The Potter's Studio

"Oh God, fuck's sake, I'm gonna, shit, I'm cumming!" Jeremy howled into the room, gripping Kyle's head with his hands and desperately pushing him deeper into his pelvis. His legs curled around Kyle's neck and also tried to impale the potter onto his mast. Every muscle of his torso, powerful thighs and arms was tense, completely dedicated to the proposition that Kyle should be held there, frozen in place, to take every last drop of ejaculate his body had just produced. It felt like the longest lasting nut he had ever emitted. His muscles only relaxed when he felt a strong convulsion building. He let go of Kyle and rode the long wave of good feelings as Kyle continued to gently nurse the last of his babies out of his slowly softening hose.

Josh saw this and intensified his thrusting. "You're going to get bred from all ends today, master potter. How do you want my cum? Deep in your hole or at the gate so you can play with it all day, sloshing around between your cheeks as you walk around the studio? Fuck this is tight! Jeremy, you gotta get this next time, shit, look at you, that was some fucking nut!"

Kyle began to flex the muscles on his pelvic floor, squeezing his sphincter around the cock that had become accustomed to a fully dilated shitter. "Oh, what is that?" Josh trembled and had to grip Kyle's hips to not lose his balance. "Do that again with your pussy!"

Kyle gripped again, this time holding for as long as he could before his muscles demanded he release the tension. Just as he did, he heard and felt Kyle releasing a thick volley of spunk deep in his rectum. The warmth and pressure from the strong stream were both incredibly pleasurable sensations. Kyle laid his head down next to Jeremy's cock and let the river of cum continue to flood his tube in waves.

"Arrrghhhh! The fuck! Delicious fucking cunt! Take my load you fucking cum dump! Take every fucking drop and hold it in your hole, remember my cock and how tight you were when we started! Grrrrrrr! Fucking warm cunt, I don't want to pull out of it, it so warm and sloppy in there. How does that feel Kyle? Am I forgiven?" Kyle asked, as he slowly pumped his cock an inch or so in and out, just enough to feel the creamy slush inside of the warm tunnel.

"I'd need a kiss to seal the deal on that apology," Kyle said, his words were a satisfied drawl, almost southern. He was exhausted and completely satiated with the feel-good hormones the body generates to reward excellent sex.

Josh smiled and leaned over Kyle, turning his head back towards him. He kissed him, their mouths opened for a brief second, a tiny taste of brine and salt and sweet cream as Josh learnt, for the first time, what his friend tasted like.

"Did you cum, Kyle?" Jeremy asked, starting to return from Elysium.

"Twice," Kyle replied, smiling. "Come on, let's clean up before Roger gets here for night class."

"Too late!" a voice from the other side of the room called out. Roger was standing there, Amanda close behind.

"Fuck me!" Kyle cried out.

"Oh, we saw, they have!" Amanda chortled.

Josh was still inside Kyle, his cock slow to return to its flaccid state and Jeremy made no effort to hide his cock or get up off the table, both men were still panting a bit and did not see the point in rushing to hide what was already exposed and clearly being enjoyed.

Both visitors stepped close. Roger looked at Jeremy's eyes for permission, he nodded and the glaze artist gasped as he held the thing in his hands, slowly weighing, evaluating it, caressing it and giving it the slightest kiss before setting the soft cock back down exactly where he had found it.

Roger was walking as if on a delicate sheet of glass, slowly, cautiously, wanting to preserve this memory and not do anything that would scare the straight-out-of-a-fantasy-movie hunks away. He noticed for the first time that Kyle still had a cock inside him. He gasped and clutched at his chest. "Amanda!"

The two saw, in fascinated horror and lust, as Kyle pushed out Josh's semi-hard dick, the splat sounds of cum splashing on the floor immediately followed.

"Do you want to clean it?" Josh asked Roger. Roger was clearly conflicted but shook his head, ass to mouth on his ass was one thing, this felt like it was another thing, yet he wanted to so badly he could feel his resolve melting.

"No thank, you," he said, his voice shaking as he turned and fled the room as quickly as he could, Amanda silently following, both looked back repeatedly, bumping into work benches, stools and eventually hitting the door with their faces before they realized the door had to be opened in order to function properly.

When they finally exited, all three men burst out laughing. The laughter pushed out the rest of Josh's load from Kyle and each splash made them all burst out howling again.

"Were you really going to let him suck you?" Kyle asked.

Josh smiled, insouciant as he had been from the moment he walked into the studio, "Yeah, I mean, he was going to try to razz you for the rest of your life, I thought knowing he swallowed your ass juice might help you punch back." He winked.

"But dude," Josh added, "can I tell you that was the best fucking blowjob ever? And the best ass I ever fucked too! My mind wants pussy but my body is like, that was fucking mind-blowing!"

"You've got my address, my holes are yours anytime," Kyle smiled as he changed underwear and shorts, slipping into a spare set of clothing he kept in case the ceramics work got too dirty.

Jeremy laughed, "Dude, you can't say that to everybody, someone is going to think you're a slut."

"I have said that to two people, and they are best buds and they are both fucking straight up stunning! And they both have, in their own way, magical fuck sticks that I want in me for as long as they'll shove them inside. If you have more friends like you, I could expand that beyond two, but if I am a slut, it's literally just for the people in this room," Kyle replied. Both men smiled and gave him a peck on the lips.

The Potter's Studio Ch 4: The Show

Two months had passed since Josh's first visit to The Potter's Studio. In that time, Jeremy's work had progressed quickly, and Kyle was more than impressed with the shapes he was able to constantly produce on the wheel. He had learned online, watching some Japanese potters, that one philosophy of bowl making centered on the idea that the perfect shape for a bowl is any shape made by holding two ends of a string on each hand and expanding or contracting the distance between the hands. The curvature of the string was perfect and natural, according to those potters, and bowls should follow those lines, without boxy corners, excess curves or other distractions.

Jeremy loved the concept and began to work on wide bowls, using a string that was 18 inches long and making bowls that were 14 inches in diameter at the rim. He had made ten of them and the pieces were extraordinarily simple and beautiful at the same time. He then worked to where he could throw pieces modeled after a 24 inch string and after a few days was creating stunning shapes. He had also begun working with Roger to develop a crystalline glaze of his own. He wanted the background to be a plum or violet blue color, nearly black, while they worked through six iterations until they found a blue that matched his eyes. This would be his signature glaze for this series, though both artists encouraged him to produce dozens of variations both in crystalline and in standard glazes as some people would want to use the bowls and the spectacular effects of the crystals forming on the glaze also meant those pieces were not food safe, as those minerals could easily react with and leech onto food.

With Kyle's help, Jeremy had enough materials to host his first sale, a special one-time show at the smaller of the two events galleries in The Studio. The co-op board agreed to this easily, Jeremy had become a beloved figure both when he stepped in to help beginner classes, and behind the scenes, in the artists' workspaces. He was friendly, impossibly optimistic, kind and helpful and, as everyone had to admit, he was mind-numbingly hot. Those who were not won over by his persistent habit of throwing pots shirtless or loading and unloading the kilns in a flimsy tank top that was immediately drenched in sweat, were won over by the fact that he was loading and unloading kilns, taking on a ton of work that the assistants could not during finals and summer break, when many went home. He was tireless and affable, there was no one on the entire staff or board who did not immediately fall in love.

The smaller pieces from early in his apprenticeship were already glazed and ready. In pottery, most pots are fired twice. The bisque fire is at a lower temperature than the glaze fire. During this first process, the clay is heated and all the water is driven out of the piece. But the result is not usable yet as it remains porous and highly brittle. Glazes are then painted onto the piece, or they can be applied by dipping the item in a bucket of glaze or even with a pressure sprayer. The porous surface absorbs the glaze and this is then fired a second time. In this final firing, the structure of the clay is forever changed as the materials vitrify, making the piece impermeable and usable for carrying food and liquids.

Rows and rows of mugs, bowls, dishes, butter and sugar saucers with tiny gripping handles, all adorned Jeremy's shelves in the back of Kyle's workspace. He had over 200 pieces ready to sell. But in the three kilns firing at the moment were his first series as an artist and not just a craftsman. They were a deeper expression of a concept - the idea of a perfect curve - and not specifically meant for daily use as were the items already completed. He had taken the same 18 inch and 24 inch strings and thrown ten different shapes, from platters to vases, ranging the gap between his hands from 6 to 18 inches. The final pieces were those with the widest rims. They were by far the most challenging and, to create just five with such a wide diameter, took him a full week with ten failures per successful piece. He had quickly picked up the art of recycling clay so this was not an issue, but the breakthrough came when Kyle helped him tweak the clay recipe to make it a bit more resilient.

As Kyle was working on the next iteration of his Zephyr line, as he had decided to name his floating silk pitcher series, he decided to focus on the famous Marilyn Monroe picture where the gust of air from the subway grate blows up her skirt. He decided he would make 15 pitchers and end the series there. The first 14 were in honor of the 14 takes Marilyn had done in New York, where the scene was first filmed. It caused so much of a stir that thousands watched as she was filming and this attention so upset her husband at the time, Joe DiMaggio, that the two had a violent argument at their hotel later than night and Marilyn filed for divorce when she returned to California. In spite of the cost to her personal life, none of those scenes were usable because of the noise of the crowd and the nearly 100 independent photographers that also showed up to grab an image of the iconic star. The take that made it into the movie, the 15th take, was shot on a studio lot in Los Angeles.

The biggest challenge in these final pieces was the pleating on Marilyn's skirt. Somehow Kyle had to convey both the free movement of the thin satin fabric and the tension of the symmetrical pleating that marked the full length of the gown she had worn. Luckily, he had time. The fire was still not at its peak temperature, it required a manual bump in the gas line every few hours and the kiln with the crystalline glazes would require bumps down at timed intervals. They would be here for at least another 24 hours, probably 30, and Jeremy refused to leave. Kyle then refused to leave Jeremy alone in this important first-time process. Roger too volunteered to come help, though he was in and out all day, returning just for the temperature adjustments.

As he worked, Kyle suddenly felt two strong arms sliding around his torso from behind him. Jeremy's scent was unmistakable, but he was rarely affectionate. He hugged him and held him tight, kissing him gently on his neck and cheek. "Thank you," he said.

Kyle turned on his work stool, Jeremy's hands had dropped onto Kyles thighs. "I can't thank you enough for what you are doing for me. Four months ago I was going blind and had to abandon a dream. Next week we will be hosting my first art show." Tears began to stream down his face though his voice remained steady and offered no other indication of the depth of emotion he felt.

"It's been an honor, Jeremy," Kyle replied, holding the young man's face in his hands. He leaned forward and placed his forehead on Jeremy's. "I will always regret how we met, I was crude and I used you, I can't apologize enough for how I behaved, but I will never regret that we met."

Jeremy smiled, "It's my ass that takes the apologies, deliver them there."

Kyle almost fell off his stool which sent Jeremy laughing on the floor. "The look on your face!" he chortled.

"Jeremy, you can't just say things like that, I'm made of flesh, if you prick me, do I not bleed?" Kyle pleaded.

"Tell you what," Jeremy said, standing up and moving close to Kyle again. "Right now I am focused on this firing but, if you are ok with it, I will prick you later and we will find out if indeed you bleed or maybe it's other liquids that get pushed out of you. How does that sound?"

Jeremy had continued to offer himself up for exquisite blowjobs from time to time. Kyle was always happy to oblige and at times Josh would join the two. Josh was also happy to pump his meat into Kyle's ass and he had suggested it to Jeremy a few times, but Jeremy so far had not shown interest. The rhythm of their experimentation and enjoyment of each other was natural, spontaneous and always satisfying to all three men but Jeremy had so far limited his involvement to feeding Kyle cock and balls, the occasional peck, a few fingers up his hole, and a helping hand now and again to make sure his favorite cocksucker got his proper finish as well. But proper fucking had not been on the list of options.

"Really?" Kyle asked, this was an exciting development, but Kyle always worried Jeremy's gratitude was pushing him into sexual experiences he might not truly want or regret down the road. "I did not think that interested you."

"Of course it does!" Jeremy exclaimed. "Seeing how Josh's eyes roll to the back of his head and he goes into mindless cursing rants, the way he describes your hole here and when we drive home, he loves your pussy, all of that is absolutely going to make me want to fuck you. It's just..."

"What is it, Jeremy? You can tell me anything, you know this," Kyle urged him on.

"I don't want to hurt you and I have hurt girls before, they bled," he said, his head slumping. "I felt like shit and broke up with them afterwards from the guilt."

"That happens at times," Kyle confessed. "It's not great and you don't want to keep fucking afterwards until the fissures heal, but you can almost always prevent them. It can be done safely and where we all enjoy it, I promise."

"I'll do everything you ask, Kyle, I want it to be perfect for you and I want to finish inside you. Fucking Josh has me all riled up with his fucking tales of an ass that grips your cock and swallows the whole thing," Jeremy had clearly given this some thought, his tone a blend of pleading and lust.

"Well, we'll put it off for now, as you said. But one of the things that helps is to make sure your bottom is excited and eager to take you in. I hear kissing helps," Kyle said, biting his lower lip and smiling.

Jeremy leaned in and kissed Kyle, slowly, both mouths open, creating a space for their tongues to wrestle and slip and slither all over each other. Kyle was immediately hard but he knew this was not the moment for more, Roger was due back any minute. He pulled away from the kiss, smiled and gave Jeremy a peck on the cheek. Jeremy squeezed Kyle's cock through his shorts, a few drops of precum soaking through the fabric. "I think my bottom is quite excited," he said, tauntingly.

As he went back towards the kilns to check on them, the two heard the main door to the workspace opening, "Hi boys, what did I miss?" Roger crooned.

"Just headed to the kilns now," Jeremy replied, turning to flex for Roger. His biceps thick and round like softballs, the veins on his forearms popping as if they might burst, his abs tensed, bursting and defined under his taut, youthful, nearly hairless skin. "Wanna follow me?" he asked innocently.

"Kyle, you brought a demon into this peaceful village, you fucking cock-hungry cunt!" Roger snapped, but meekly followed the handsome, blue-eyed demon.

When they returned, Amanda had joined them. She was holding her purse in the crook of her elbow and her phone in her hand.

"So, what did you want to tell us?" Jeremy asked, as the three sat down around Kyle's worktable with open soft drinks in front of them. Jeremy had picked up a sparkling water from the common drinks fridge and set it in front of Kyle. Kyle could not resist and grabbed his hand, kissing it. Jeremy winked and patted his cheek.

"Ok, don't be pissed, but I did something," Amanda started, though she was clearly excited and showed little concern anyone would actually be pissed. "You know how I have been taking lots of pictures and Kyle has been taking videos of you throwing, trimming, unloading the kiln, etc.?"

"Yeah, you said it was for me to review my form, and it has helped me a lot, except for the videos unloading the kiln or during the raku firings, those are just me lifting stuff and sweating like a pig," he replied.

"About that," she continued, "I took the liberty of creating an Instagram account for you, and a TikTok. I have been uploading content for six weeks now. Two of your videos have gone fuck shit viral."

"What is fuck shit viral?" Kyle asked.

"Well, 12 and 17 million views each," she replied, clapping her hands excitedly.

Jeremy's mouth fell open, he stared at Amanda unable to form words while Roger and Kyle cheered and slapped him on the back and squeezed his arms.

"Well," Amanda asked, for the first time a glint of worry coming across her face, "are you upset?"

Jeremy looked at her, tears again streaming down his face, "17 million people saw me throw? You're not fucking with me Amanda, are you? That would suck right now."

"Well no, I'm not fucking with you, but the 17 million views was not you throwing, that was the 12 million viral video. The big one is you doing Raku. I pulled a few stills and did a five shot series with a slow motion video set to, 'I'm on Fire,' by Springsteen. Wanna see?" she said excitedly.

She opened her phone and pulled up the images. They were taken from below, almost floor level at first. The first shot was of him wearing a tank top and blue jeans tucked into a pair of fire boots, his hands protected by large firemen's gloves. He was pulling out a glowing-hot bowl from an open kiln firing at nearly 1800 degrees Fahrenheit, the entire inside of the kiln glowing as if the viewer were staring into the sun itself, except the faint outlines of the pieces in the kiln could still be seen. The bowl was one of his first 'String Theory' pieces, as the series would be known.

The second shot was of him depositing the piece onto a nest of wood chips, saw dust and newspaper. The piece immediately setting it all ablaze. The third shot was of him lowering a large upside down trash can over the fire, flames wicking up the sides of the can, the piece barely visible inside the blazing tongues of fire, smoke and soot, his body tense and formidable, his tank top now clinging to every single indentation and curvature of his muscular and defined form, drops of sweat dripping from his head and chest, his face frozen in a pose that revealed nothing but determination and strength. The fourth item was the video, a thirty second slow motion piece that pulled the scene together, puffs of smoke and sparks flying everywhere as he finally dropped the trash can to starve the fire of oxygen and extinguish the flames. The final image was of the piece itself. Jeremy was holding it out to the camera in one hand, his arm and face slightly out of focus. His fingers stained with ash, his fingernails dirty with soot. The piece itself stunning. They had used a copper based glaze, and radiant streaks of oranges and greens played and intertwined with spots of pure black - in the areas which had been purposefully left without glaze. It was a stunning piece, delicate in shape and form, held by the hand of a man who could easily destroy it with just the strength of his fingertips.