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My name is Shaun Jacobs and this is the story of my first sexual experience and my first time falling in love.

I am twenty one years old, 6′ 2″, slim build, short dark brown hair and green eyes. I have light skin and bit of a stubbly beard.

I have never had a serious relationship before and I am still a virgin, which is embarrassing at this age I know. Throughout my teenage years I guess I was mainly attracted to girls at school but was too shy to ever really do anything about it. When I was alone I would experiment with different porn and at about age seventeen found myself starting to like gay porn. I think because I was such a shy person on the outside but was craving to try all new things on the inside that I became somewhat obsessed with porn, wishing that it could be me doing these hot, sexy things. It was like I just wanted to know more and more.

I never thought of myself as ugly but I guess I never had the self-confidence either. I would consider myself to be a little nerdy and awkward. I had goods friends in high school but after it was over everyone seemed to drift away and I became a loner. I spend most of my weekends playing video games with my little brother Jason. I have a good relationship with my family and still live at home with mom, dad and Jason. After high school I started to work as an apprentice painter. After three years I got my qualification and started working for a new company and started saving for my own place.

Everyone has always assumed I was straight and never asked otherwise and I have never really brought up the subject to anyone before. Although mom would make the occasional comment about how she’d love me to bring home a girl for them to meet someday. Which I would just brush off.

Our family isn’t very open about talking about sex and relationships and I think my parents just wanted to give me my privacy about that topic and they didn’t pry, (not that there was anything to pry into anyway). Over the past four years I slowly stopped being attracted to girls and now I only notice guys. I guess I know inside that I am gay but I can’t admit it until I get up the courage to actually try it out for real. I feel that if one day I was to bring a guy home my family would be accepting of that. But I still am not ready to say anything yet.

Today was the first day of work starting with this new company and I was looking forward to it, hoping to possibly make some work friends. The job was painting houses which I enjoyed doing. This was quite a large company and I arrived at their head office at 7am. I met my new boss and found out that I would be working with just one other person who I would be partnered with from now on and it would be just the two of us working on each house alone together.

I thought to myself I hope I get along with this other person otherwise this job will suck if I have to spend so much time alone with someone who I don’t like. My boss told me that Matthew was running a few minutes late and would be here soon. Then he walked in, oh my god I have never seen such a beautiful human being before. He was tall (about 6′ 4″) and I could tell he worked out. He had lovely tan skin, short brown hair and blue eyes. Those eyes were mesmerizing, he was absolutely gorgeous.

All I could do was force an awkward smile and shyly say, “Hi”.

He walked straight up to me and held out his hand for me to shake and said, “Hi you must be Shaun, I’m Matthew”.

I thought to myself oh no I bet my palms are sweaty, but I stuck out my hand and firmly shook his and said, “Nice to meet you”.

Wow his hand felt so strong I thought to myself.

“You to,” he replied.

“Well we better get on the road to the first house then,” said Matthew.

We walked out to the work truck and got in (Matthew was driving) and started to drive the thirty minute journey to my first house of this new job. Straight away he started to make conversation and asked me how old I was and I found out he was twenty three and had worked with this company for two years.

There is something about this guy, my god I just wanted to stare at him! But knew I would look ridiculous if I did, so I tried to focus on the road. He had such a deep manly voice that I thought I could listen to forever. Could I have my first ‘real’ crush on this guy after knowing him for just ten minutes? Okay time for me to try and make some conversation, I thought.

“What area do you live in?” I finally said.

“Pine Hills, you?” He replied.

“Oh I live five minutes from there in Blue Haven”.

“We will have to hang out and grab a beer sometime,” Matthew said.

“Yeah, sounds good,” I replied.

We spent the day working hard and exchanging small talk and throughout the day I slowly built up the confidence to talk more and more. I found out that he had his own apartment and was single at the moment. He mentioned briefly that it had only been a few months bayrampaşa escort since he got out of a two and a half year relationship and was happy it was over because his ex-girlfriend was a bit of a psycho. Oh no he said ‘girlfriend’, I guess it would have been too good to be true if he was gay I thought and I couldn’t help but feel sad about that. I also found out he was really into video games like me and we played pretty much the same ones.

A few weeks went by and we had gotten to know each other quite well, and we worked really well together too. My desire for him became stronger and stronger every day we worked together. And every night when I masturbated I didn’t put porn on anymore, I only thought of him.

The subject of my sexuality had never come up between us, I did tell him one day that I had a few girlfriends in high school but nothing serious (which was a lie). I couldn’t let him know I was a virgin who had never been in a relationship, I was so ashamed of that. My favorite part of our days at work was lunch, when we would usually just sit in the work truck together and eat and talk.

I loved being so close to him when we were in the car. I often thought about how amazing it would feel to have his strong arms wrapped around me. I was really cautious about how I acted around him, I really didn’t want him to know how badly I wanted him. So I held in every compliment I wanted to give him and tried even harder not to stare. But on occasion when he bent down to pick something up off the ground I couldn’t help myself. He had the most perfect arse which looked so hot in his work pants. Oh I want him, I want him more than I have ever wanted something in my entire life!

It was Friday today and work was almost over for the weekend, we had now been working together for 3 weeks. We finished the job around 3pm, packed up for the day and got in the car to drive back to the office.

As we were driving back Matthew asked, “Do you have any plans over the weekend?”

“No not really, I was just going to have a gaming marathon,” I replied.

“How about you come round my place and bring your computer and we could battle and have a few beers and get junk food?” He asked.

I was stunned for a second, my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest, and I just wanted to scream yes, yes, yes! But I kept my cool and casually said, “Yeah that sounds awesome”.

We got back to the office and he wrote down his address for me. I got in my car and headed home. We planned for me to go round to his place about 6pm that night. Once I was in my car driving home I couldn’t help but smile the whole time, I was so excited to spend time with Matthew outside of work, and at his house no less.

Nothing could make me happier right now. And then I thought to myself was I sleeping over? These gaming marathons go on for hours, even all night so I guess I would be there for a while. I couldn’t help but picture him asking me to sleep in his bed with him, okay calm down Shaun, jeez that’s never going to happen you idiot.

I arrived home at about 4pm and hopped straight in the shower, the thoughts of being alone at Matthew’s house with him were too much to handle. As I started to soap up my body and run my hands over my dick I was picturing Matthew in the shower with me. I became rock hard quickly, and started to wank myself off.

It was so steamy in the shower and all I was thinking about was Matthews body, his arse, oh his arse, how it would feel squeezed in my hands. I thought about his lips, how full they were, I wanted them pressed against mine. I wanted him to stroke my dick. The thoughts excited me too much and I was so close to cumming, fuck yeah, make me cum Mathew I thought and I shot my load all over the shower wall.

After my shower I went into my bedroom to figure out what I was going to wear, after going back and forth a few times I decided on black Calvin Klein boxer briefs, jeans, an Adidas t-shirt and Nike shoes. I brushed my teeth and put on cologne. I packed my car with my computer stuff and a bottle of Jack Daniels which I had gotten for my birthday and hadn’t had the opportunity to drink yet.

I still had an hour before I had to leave so I sat on the lounge watching TV hoping time would pass quickly. Mom and Dad arrived home before I was about to leave and seemed shocked to notice I was actually going out somewhere for a change. I told them not to get too excited for me as I was just going to play video games at a work mates place. I told them I probably would be gone all weekend as we were having a huge gaming marathon (I hoped I would be there the whole weekend). Then I thought should I pack extra clothes or would that look too eager. I decided to throw another t-shirt and a pair of underwear in my back pack with my keyboard, mouse, computer cords and the bottle of Jack Daniels.

It was 5:55pm and I got in the car to beykoz escort drive the five minutes to his place, wait will it look weird if I get there exactly on 6pm? I thought. I decided to do an extra few laps around the area before getting to his apartment building at 6:03pm. I got out of the car and threw on my back pack and carried my computer monitor and modem up the stairs to his apartment door. I had to put my monitor on the ground so I had a free hand to knock. I had butterflies, I knocked and he quickly opened the door.

Wow he looked so hot, I had never seen him out of work clothes before, even though he only had comfy sweat pants, a Quicksilver t-shirt and socks on. I could tell he had just gotten out of the shower as his hair was still wet and I could smell his cologne.

“Hey, want me to help you with that?” He said pointing to my monitor on the ground.

“Hey, yeah thanks,” I replied.

His apartment was nice, it looked clean and organized. I am neat freak so this made me happy. In the lounge room/study area he had a huge desk which he had cleared off space for me to put my computer and put a chair in front for me. Yes! We are going to be sitting side by side the entire time, I thought to myself which intensified my stomach butterflies.

He told me to set up my computer and then showed me around his place. It was just a one bedroom apartment and he showed me his bedroom quickly. He had a huge bed which looked really comfy. For a brief second I thought, where will I sleep if I stay over?

I remembered the Jacks I brought over and said, “Look I brought this,” pulling it out of my backpack.

“Awesome, I’ve got coke,” said Matthew.

We had a few drinks and gamed for about three hours, time goes so quick while playing. Although it was hard for me to concentrate because my heart was racing just being so close to him. We laughed together and we were really having fun.

Matthew paused the game and turned to me and said, “Are you hungry? Want to order a pizza?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” I replied.

Once the pizza arrived we had a break from the computer and sat on the lounge to watch some TV while we ate.

All of a sudden I could hear claps of thunder outside and also heard it start to rain.

“I love storms,” I told Matthew.

“Yeah me too, they make you feel so cozy,” he replied.

Aww that was such cute thing for him to say I thought to myself. As we were starting to almost finish the pizza the storm got closer and flashes of lightning lit up the windows. The thunder was so loud now and we were starting to get a bit drunk, were laughing so much. Then all of a sudden with a huge clap of thunder the power went out.

It was almost completely pitch black.

“Fuck, what are going to do now?” Said Matthew.

“Do you have any candles or anything?” I asked.

“Yeah somewhere, you wait here and I’ll go try and find them”.

Matthew stumbled up from the lounge and went to get the candles, I could hear him rummaging through stuff and it sounded like he was making quite a mess in the dark.

“Use the light on your phone,” I shouted to him.

“Oh I didn’t think of that,” he said laughing.

Me and Matthew alone in the dark together with a few candles, this is going to be so hot, I was thinking to myself and I felt my dick start to harden slightly, I tried to think of something else to get my mind off it. He came back with about six small candles that he lit and placed around the lounge room and then sat back on the couch.

“We will just have to get drunk to entertain ourselves,” I said.

“Yeah I’ll go pour us more drinks,” he laughed.

He came back and handed me a drink and sat down on the lounge with me.

I took a sip and it tasted so strong.

“Did you pour me a double shot?” I asked.

“Yep, you said we have to get drunk,” he said and we laughed.

We just sat together drinking and talking which was really nice.

“Did you bring any other pants? Those jeans look uncomfortable,” Matthew asked.

“Nah I didn’t,” I replied.

“I’ll go get you a pair of sweat pants, or would you prefer shorts?” He asked.

“Sweat pants will be fine, thanks”.

He went to his room to get them for me. I’m going to be wearing his pants! I was so happy. He came back and handed me the pair of sweats.

I said, “Thanks,” and went to the bathroom to change.

I wonder if it would have been okay to change in the lounge room, I was thinking as I changed into his cozy soft pants. I stood there for a second thinking about how I was actually wearing his pants and I felt my dick start to stiffen again. Oh no go away, I tried to take my mind off it. I was probably in there way too long.

After about five minutes I went back to the lounge room where Matthew was sitting and looking on his phone. I was starting to feel quite beyşehir escort drunk now. At least he wouldn’t expect me to drive home after drinking which means I am definitely sleeping here. The storm was still going crazy outside.

I sat back down next to Matthew and he said, “I was just looking on the web and it says the power will be off for at least five more hours in this area”.

“Oh my god that’s ages!” I said.

“I’m going to Google what to do in a black out or games to play or something,” Matthew told me.

“Okay good idea,” I said.

As he was looking on his phone Matthew said, “I found a truth or dare App that asks the questions for us that we could play”.

My heart started to race, did he just say that?!

“Sure,” I said like it wasn’t a big deal.

He handed me his phone and said, “You go first”.

I took the phone and it had two options of truth or dare.

I asked him, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he answered.

I clicked truth and then I had to shake the phone for three seconds before it landed on a question I had to ask him.

The question read how old were you when you lost your virginity? I was so turned on just by this question that I felt my dick start to harden again.

I casually read the question out to him and he replied, “Sixteen”.

“Is this an adult version or something?” I asked him

“Yeah I think it’s mostly a bunch of sex questions actually,” Matthew replied.

I felt like my fantasies were becoming a reality. I would have never thought I would be playing truth or dare with him in the dark like this. This is already the best night of my life. Then I realized what if he asked me when I lost my virginity. What would I say? I would have to tell him the embarrassing truth that I am a virgin.

“I know it’s a lame game that thirteen year olds play but what else would we do,” Matthew said laughing.

“Yeah I don’t mind,” I said smiling as I handed him back the phone.

“Truth or dare?” He asked me.

I said, “I’ll pick truth as well,” and he shook the phone.

“Have you ever been attracted to someone of the same sex,” Matthew asked me.

Oh god what am I going to say, this is crazy! Even in the dark he probably noticed how bright red I went.

“Umm yes,” I said in shaky soft voice.

“Who?!” He asked as if he was really interested to know.

“Hay, that wasn’t part of the question,” I said laughing.

“I want more details though,” he said as he handed me back the phone.

“Well you will have to wait to see if it comes up in another question,” I said in a smart arse tone.

So I asked him once again, “Truth or dare?”

“I’ll pick dare this time”.

I clicked dare and shook the phone. Oh my god I love this game I thought to myself as I seen what the dare was that it landed on. It read kiss the neck of the person closest to you.

I laughed and said, “Umm it says kiss the neck of the person closest to you”.

“Okay I’ll do it, if it’s okay with you?”

“Umm okay,” I said in the most nervous voice I could possibly come out with.

My dick began to harden even more so I quickly grabbed a pillow off the lounge to pretend to hug it to hide my boner.

Matthew slowly moved closer, he tilted his head and moved it close to my neck. I could feel his warm breath on me and he lightly pressed his lips on the side of my neck. It felt like nothing I had felt before. My entire body tingled and my dick was definitely hard now. It was just a peck but it felt like he lingered for a second and then sat back in his spot. I couldn’t say anything, I was too stunned.

I just handed him the phone and he smiled and just said, “Truth or dare?”

“I’ll go dare this time,” I replied.

We were both still drinking and I think I would have been even more of a nervous wreck if it wasn’t for the alcohol.

Matthew started laughing a little and said, “It says lick the stomach of the person closest to you for five seconds”.

My eyes widened and I just sat there for a second. I’ve never even seen him with his shirt off and now I am going to lick his abs, oh my god this is too much. My dick is rock hard now and throbbing.

“Alright,” I said in such a soft voice, I could barely get the word out.

And then he giggled a bit and lifted up his shirt. I was right, he definitely worked out. He had great abs that I could tell he was tensing.

I moved closer to him and slowly moved my head down to be level with his stomach. I couldn’t help but stare at his bulge. If I didn’t know any better it looked like he had a semi hard on, I could just make it out through his pants. I bet he’s got a huge dick, does he have a hard on for me, no he couldn’t, I was thinking to myself and I slowly started to stick out my tongue, I gently started at his belly button and softly licked up towards his nipples. His skin felt so nice against my tongue and he tasted amazing, I don’t know what like though but I loved it. Five seconds was up too quick and I thought I better stop. As I pulled my head away I stared at his dick again and I could definitely tell it was hard this time. I looked away quick hoping he didn’t notice me staring.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Six months ago to the day. That’s how long it had been since I had seen Mike. I remembered the date exactly, mostly because the image of my digital bedside clock is burned into my mind’s eye, the electric blue numbers, denoting the date and time that my life as I knew it ended.

I can still hear the door closing downstairs, the distinctive sound of Shannon coming in, dropping her keys loudly in the small porcelain tray by our front door, the mail following them, softer, flat. I remember the moment of sheer panic that took me, not so much washing over me, or enveloping me – one moment I was laying there, basking in post-orgasm bliss, mind dulled, every muscle relaxed, feeling Mike’s hard body on mine, his hard cock buried up inside me, the next moment I was absolutely, totally paralyzed. The adrenaline that surged through me that moment had the reverse effect that adrenalin is supposed to. Normally it should allow a person to handle an unusually difficult situation, provide that extra burst. In this case I was overloaded. I went from total relaxation to total and utter brain lock instantly. My mind emptied, I nearly blacked out.

I could barely see Mike above me, looking down, panic in his face, but confusion as well. He knew something was wrong, but he hadn’t quite grasped it. When you live with someone in the same house for years, you know every single sound, whether made by a person or just something that emanates from the house or the environment. You know exactly what it sounds like when your girlfriend comes home. Mike didn’t know. He just knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I felt him slowly draw out of me, and the pain and sudden emptiness stirred me. I pushed him off me, violently, rolling out from under him as he started to speak, and I turned to him and slapped a hand over his mouth, pointing desperately towards the door, shaking my head. I saw recognition in his eyes a millisecond before we both heard Shannon’s voice from below, “Baby? Are you home?”

I pulled my hand away and looked around the room, barely able to think. Our clothes were everywhere. The bed was a mess. The room must have reeked of sex and man and sweat and cum. I could feel my own cum drying and sticky on my stomach, and I could feel Mike’s hot cum leaking perversely from my still clenched asshole. At any other time I would have relished the feeling, would have masturbated to that sensation a hundred times down the road, but right now it made me want to scream, but I couldn’t. All I could do was to frantically grab at clothes, throw them at Mike. He was doing the same, grabbing for clothes, mine or his, it didn’t matter, grabbing them and looking around at the same time, trying to figure out where he would go. I heard her again, “Babe?”

Mike stared at me, hard, his muscles clenched, his jaw tight. “I’ll be right down Sweetie!” My voice was barely a squeak. But her footsteps were already on the stairs. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I grabbed Mike and pushed him towards the bathroom, then grabbed and pushed him back towards the bed, to the floor, trying to get him to roll under the bed, desperate, my mind screaming, my blood pounding, and then Shannon was in the doorway and she saw me, standing naked, she saw Mike, naked on the floor, clothes scattered everywhere. She stood there for a long, long moment, staring mostly at Mike – it was almost funny, the expression on her face, I could see her mental contortions on her face as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing. No one spoke, Mike just laid there, half under the bed, and then I saw it click in Shannon’s eyes and she made a soft gurgling sound and retched once, hard, nothing coming from her body, then again, and then she was on her knees, vomiting onto the bedroom floor.

Mike left quickly, not saying a word, and I wanted to leave too, not with him, just to leave, to run away, but I knew I couldn’t. So I stayed, I got dressed as Shannon emptied her stomach and then collapsed to the floor, broken, sobbing. I tried to put a hand on her bayrampaşa escort heaving shoulder and she nearly ripped my fingers off, her eyes flashing. I backed away without speaking, gathering my clothes, and went downstairs, still naked. I stood in the foyer for ten minutes, trying to think, piecing together everything that had happened and that was about to happen. Shannon was friendly with my family, but particularly with my younger sister. My sister would know. My parents would know. Our friends would know. I could feel my heart racing, and I almost had to kneel down, my head was so weak. My life was over. Everyone was going to know, everyone. And they did.

Shannon told my family everything. She kicked me out of our house when she finally made it downstairs. She didn’t wait to hear anything, and I don’t know what I would have said had she listened. She told me to get out, I did. I think I wanted to leave as much as she wanted me gone.

I checked into a motel, went back the next day, let myself in and grabbed some clothes and personal items. I got a call that evening from my sister, and then from my mom. I didn’t answer either. My mom called five more times that night.

And six months later, I’m living in a one-bedroom apartment in Alexandria. I haven’t seen Mike since that day. He called a couple times but I didn’t answer. I’ve been avoiding everyone I know. I finally answered my mom’s call a couple weeks later after she had left a few sobbing voicemails, but she hung up as soon as I said hello. Shannon and I spoke just long enough to arrange for me to clear my stuff out of the house one day while she was at a friend’s house.

I’ve been with two other men since then.

Both I met off Craigslist. About two months after that day, I answered an ad for a “Str8 guy for cock.” Sounded like me. I was still thinking of myself as straight. I ended up meeting up with this guy, a little younger then me, much more experienced. I stroked his dick, he sucked mine, I wanted to scream. I came home and took an hour-long shower, woke up the next morning seriously contemplating suicide. The feeling wore off before I did anything about it.

About two weeks later I posted an ad myself, going into detail as to what I was looking for. A fit handsome guy around my age, maybe a little older, athletic, strong, not “gay-acting” – whatever the fuck I thought that meant – with a nice cock. I was basically looking for Mike. I didn’t find him. I got about two dozen replies, I answered a few, I met up with one. He came over, good-looking guy named Steven, insisted on being called Steven, not Steve. He was in great shape, great body, nice thick cock, big enough, but it was so fucking weird. I felt myself being attracted to him, but he just totally rubbed the wrong way, just seemed off somehow, and I couldn’t relax, couldn’t get comfortable. He kept pushing me to let him fuck me, kept calling me “Baby” and telling me how he was going to make me his bitch, but all nice and softly and gentle, but it made me want to throw up, it felt so wrong. I ended up stroking him off so he would cum and leave, and he did, buttoning up and getting out of there before I could even ask him to go. I didn’t even get to cum.

And it’s six months after that day, and my phone rings and it’s Mike. I turn away, leaving it lying on the table, picturing him, his naked body, remembering how it felt to have him on me, in me, thrusting, and I feel myself responding for the first time in a long time. I grab the phone, my heart pounding, and whisper, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, softly, apologetically. “How’s it going?” As if we had just spoken last week.

“Not bad,” I lie. “What’s up with you?”

“Not much. Same old.” His breath catches.

I pause, blood rushing to my head, decide to let him have it. “Must be nice, the ‘same old.’ “

I hear him swallow through the phone, measuring his words. “I tried to call. To apologize. You wouldn’t answer.”

“An apology doesn’t do much, does it?”

“It’s beykoz escort all I could do. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Yeah, well, so am I, Mike, so am I.” Part of me wants to hang up, and if it had been an old-fashioned phone with a satisfying clanging bell and a big old plastic handpiece, I might have, but touching an imaginary button on a screen doesn’t have the same effect, so I waited.

“I don’t know what to say, except to apologize, as often as you’ll let me. I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through.”

“Shannon kicked me out. We’re through. I’ve barely spoken to my family. I haven’t spoken to my friends. I assume they know, but I can’t face them.”

I hear him sigh. Neither of us speaks for a minute. We both just sit there, listening to each other’s breathing. A couple times I hear Mike about to speak, making the small noise that you subconsciously know means a person is about to say something, gathering breath to talk, but he stops each time. And I know that he knows that I know what he’s doing, that he’s trying to tell me that he wants to say something but he wants me to go first, and finally I do. “Make it up to me. Buy me a drink.”

I never knew you could hear a smile through a phone.

We meet at a bar in my new neighborhood, a place I’ve gone a few times to feel sorry for myself, kind of a dive, but a respectable dive. I walk in and see Mike’s already there, a half-empty beer in front of him, sitting in a booth by himself. I can stop from thinking that he looks good. He’s wearing a short-cropped beard, salt-and-pepper, and his hair is the same. Olive green t-shirt, tight around his broad shoulders and chest, and jeans. He stands up as I walk over and smiles, shakes my hand. I can see the veins popping in his forearms. We sit, and he speaks first. “How are you, man?”

“Okay. Really. I’ll survive.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Shot and a beer.” Always heard guys say that in movies, and suddenly it sounds like exactly what I need. Mike smiles, seemingly knowing my thoughts, and ambles to the bar, bringing back two shot glasses of something dark and a pint of something darker.

“Cheers.” I lift my shot, he does the same, we clink glasses and I toss mine back, shuddering just a little as the fiery liquid slides down my throat, a lovely burn in its wake. “God, good, ” I manage, reaching for my beer.

“It’ll put some hair on your chest, that’s for sure,” says Mike, as he gulps his shot down smoothly, barely reacting.

“You must’ve been drinking this for a while now then, huh?” I can’t help myself.

He grins, big, straight white teeth, full lips. “Guess so, yeah. Want another?”

“Please.” He slides out of the booth again and comes back with another round, and we clink again, tossing them back. The second one goes down smoother. I finish my beer. We’ve barely spoken, but our eyes keep meeting across the table, and he’s doing the “almost-speaking” thing again. I feel the liquor creeping up my back, warming me from the inside, making me feel good for the first time in a long time. I want to feel this way more often. All the time. It’s not just the liquor though. I can feel myself straining against my jeans, feel my face flushing. I glance up at Mike, and see him smiling at me, his eyes dancing. He somehow knows exactly what I’m thinking. I can barely breathe.

“Let’s go.” I don’t know what he’s talking about for a moment, but then he’s on his feet and moving towards the door. Somehow my first thought is for the tab, then I realize he must have paid it when he got the last round. And he’s almost to the door, so I find my feet and follow. He holds the door for me. I step outside, into the cool evening air.

“You live alone?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Nearby.”

“I’ll follow you.” He steps towards a black pickup, looks pretty new, and I turn and get into my car, starting it up, my lungs desperate for air. Somehow I get home, pull into a spot, let myself in. Mike follows, not speaking. beyşehir escort We get inside my apartment and I stop, feeling the alcohol buzzing me just a little, keeping me warm, and then Mike’s behind me, his hands on my waist, pushing me down, bending me over. I whimper, “Yes. Yes.” This is how it has to be. This is how it’s going to happen. I reach for my waist, undo my belt, unbutton my jeans, feel him yanking them down off me, taking my black boxer briefs with them, cool air conditioning washing over my naked bottom, my legs, stepping out of my jeans, my lower half naked in front of him.

I don’t look back, don’t speak, I just find the wall with my hands and spread my feet and drop my head. I hear a spitting sound, repeatedly, hear Mike behind me rubbing his saliva over himself, and then more spitting, feel his fingers on me, in me, rubbing over me and I nearly collapse. I feel myself wet and cold, and then warmth as Mike rubs his swollen head against my asshole, and I feel myself losing control, unable to think, needing this, and then he’s pressing against me, pushing, pushing, harder, harder, harder, and he pops inside and I pass out for just a moment, a tiny moment, he doesn’t even notice, and then he’s inside me and my knees almost give out. He’s pushing into me, slowly, not all the way, taking his time. I’m whimpering softly to him, moaning, in so much pain but loving every moment of it, grabbing my cock with one hand and pumping myself slow and hard, feeling Mike’s cock sliding up into my asshole, filling me. I feel tears running down my cheeks and I’ve never felt so good, so full, and I want to tell him but all I can say is “God, yes. Mike.”

He grunts in response, and I feel him thrust forward, barely pressing hips against me, and my knees almost give out, I want him, more, deeper, he feels so thick, like he’s bigger then I remember. I can smell him, his sweat, his body, his cock, and I hear myself groan like some kind of bear, unnatural sounds as he pushes into me. My hand is gripping my cock tightly, not even moving, just holding myself as Mike thrusts into me again and again, so slowly, moaning softly somewhere far behind me, pushing me forward just a little each time, his hips beginning to grind against me as he enters me completely.

As he moves up inside me all the way, he stops, his hips pressed tightly against my ass and I feel like I could die right now, and then he rears back, pulls nearly out of me, and then he’s driving into me and I cry out in pain, and then he does it again and it feels so fucking good, hurts, don’t stop, I’m crying now, moaning, grabbing at the wall, back at his hips, clawing at him as he fucks me, really fucks me. He grabs my hips, pulls me back against him, impaling me on him and I feel him surging inside me, hear him grunting, and I know he’s cumming and then I feel him filling me and I call his name, over and over as he cums inside me.

When it’s over, I fall forward as he pulls out, my body in so much pain. I lay on the carpet for a moment, and he’s kneeling beside me. I realize his jeans are still around his ankles. He fucked me up against the wall without even taking his clothes off, hard, from behind, and it was exactly what I needed. I look up at him, want to tell him. He beats me to it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like that. Not the first time.”

I shake my head. “It had to be that way. I needed you to do it that way. I needed that, I needed you, but if you had given me a way out I would have probably taken it. It’s fucking scary. All this. It’s new and it’s different and it’s scary, and if you had given me time to think about it I would have walked away and hated myself for it. You needed to do that to me.”

His hands are on my hips, running over my stomach, gently tracing his fingertips along the length of my cock. “Can you forgive me?”

I smile, feeling his bare legs nestling against me from behind, feel him laying himself down behind me, spooning my naked lower body with his, feel him pressing against me, his fingers wrapping around my cock, his breath in my ear. I feel his beard on my neck, his hand on me cock, and I smile, for real, for the first time in months. I turn my neck and kiss him, hard, and his fingers start to work on me, and I moan in his mouth, pulling back just enough to groan, “Fuck, yes, Mike. Yes.”

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!29f_UseMyBf – I want you to slap him around good. don’t hold back. make him cry. and don’t let him cum, okay? it’s all selfish. all about you. okay?

hungBristol24 – yea – where is he? does he have flatmates or anything?

!29f_UseMyBf – He’s staying alone. The address is no. XX Graining Pl, BSXX XXJD. Just knock loudly, and when he asks who it is, say you’re a friend of Jamie’s. That’s the name of the guy he’s house-sitting for. Say you left your coat and you want to get it back. That you talked to Jamie and he said it was okay for you to swing by. Once he lets you in, do what you like.

hungBristol24 – Has he been fucked before?

!29f_UseMyBf – Once, I think.

hungBristol24 – Why are you doing this?

!29f_UseMyBf – I’ve been watching his history. He’s been on the gay chat every night this week. Gay porn. Sissy porn. He’s a faggoty bitch and I want him to get what he wants. And the money.

hungBristol24 – Not very much money.

!29f_UseMyBf – …not my ass 😉 Besides, he’s always on about how macho he is, talking shit. homophobic. but look at what he watches when he’s jacking off his little dicklet.

hungBristol24 – What if he calls the police or screams or something?

!29f_UseMyBf – Just cover his mouth. Slap his ass and push him into the mattress, and once you’re buried balls deep in his ass, tell him Sars sent you. Tell him all about this conversation. I don’t care. Tell him you won’t be the last ‘guest’ he’s going to get.

hungBristol24 – mmmmmm

!29f_UseMyBf – Besides, if he gets lippy or anything, smack him one good and point at his throbbing erection. tough to argue principles with a hardon.

hungBristol24 – mmmmm 😉

!29f_UseMyBf – Yea! So… u going?

————————————————-

The knock on the door was urgent and rapid. Tim hastily minimized his browser and got up, adjusting his pants to hide his erection. He looked through the peephole to see a youngish guy with dark hair, clean-shaven, and a friendly face on the other side.

“Who is it?”

“Hi, Tim? It’s Perry; Jamie’s mate. He told me I could come by and pick up my coat.”

“Ummm,” Tim hesitated a moment.

“Didn’t he text through? He said he was going to let you know.”

“No, he didn’t text or anything,” Tim unlocked the door, “but never mind. Come on in.” He opened the door and stood back to let the younger man in. Perry was taller, and more well built. As Tim swung the door shut, he was caught by surprise. Perry immediately gripped him by the arm and, pulling him over, wrapped an arm around his midsection, clamping him close.

“What the-” Perry smacked his face hard before slapping a meaty hand across Tim’s mouth, muffling his cries. As Tim struggled, Perry’s grip tightened, the arm clamping his chest cinching tighter and tighter and making it harder for Tim to breathe. He was muscled through a doorway and down the corridor to a bedroom, struggling all the way.

“Shut up, you little bitch,” Perry’s voice was like warm honey as he whispered into Tim’s ear. “We’re just going to have a little fun.” He shoved Tim through the doorway and moved to block the exit, releasing his grip. Tim immediately moved away, glancing around the room and back at Perry.

“No point in fighting me,” Perry purred, “or thinking about calling the police. Sars sent me.” He smirked. “A present, of sorts. I’m going to make your dirty little fucked up fantasies come true.” He shut the bedroom door and turned back around to stare down Tim, who had frozen on the spot at the mention of Sars’ name. “And silivri escort there’s nothing you can do about it.” He turned back to the door and snapped the lock shut, then turning once more, took a step towards Tim, glancing down at the stiff cock outlined within his trousers. “And from the looks of it, that’s got you pretty excited, faggot.”

Tim looked down and winced. His cock was rock hard. This stranger was in his bedroom, blocking his only exit, and he knew Sars. What was going on? Perry, still between him and the door, had moved over to the desk and flipped open his laptop, pulling up his web browser. Tim winced again.

“What’s this? ‘Sissy Cock-Sucking’? ‘Surrender to Cock’? ‘Gay Sex Chat’, hmm what do we have here?” He skimmed through the chat windows’ contents. “Someone’s been a very, very naughty fucking little boy, hasn’t he?”

Tim stammered a bit but couldn’t managed to get anything out; his mind was still spinning as he tried to catch up.

“I said hasn’t he?” Perry crossed over in two swift steps, savagely gripped Tim by his hair, and marched him over, crying out in pain, to shove his face into the chat windows, like a pet owner rubbing an errant dog’s nose in its own mess. “You have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

“I-“

“What was that? I said you have a girlfriend, don’t you fag? Sars. That’s your GIRLFRIEND. What’re you looking at all this for, huh faggot? Let’s see here… ‘I wanna be used like a cheap slut. I wanna be cummed in and left with an aching hardon. I want you to smack my ass and pass me around to your friends-I wanna have cum dribbling outta both ends’-I think we can just about deliver on that, Timmy… All of that and more. Wanna be used, bitch? I’m gonna turn your ass inside out. I’m gonna use you up and wear you out; I’m gonna own your ass, your mouth,” he eased his grip on Tim’s hair as his left hand shot out and grabbed Tim’s testicles through the thin material of his trousers, “and that excuse for a cock you got hidden between your legs, and you’re not going to do a thing about it because Sars gave you to me, and because I’ve got an entire lifetime of dirt on you she’ll be only to happy to show all of your friends and colleagues if you don’t play along, and because I think you’ve been wishing for all of this for a long time anyway, now how’s that sound, huh?”

He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down revealing an impossible bulge in a pair of tight blue Aussibum pants.

I said ‘how’s that sound,’ huh boy? We’re going to have to teach you how to answer when you’re asked a question.” Tim gasped as Perry’s grip on his balls tightened in an instant motion that sent pain rippling through his whole body as his legs gave out. Perry released them as quickly as he had crushed them and buried his hands in Tim’s hair once more, tightening his grasp and pushing Tim down onto his knees.

“One more time,” he pulled Tim’s face closer to the bulge in his pants with each word, “How’s… That… Sound… Huh, boy?” Tim’s face was crushed against the meaty package, his head held in place by a hand like a compactor. He tried to say something but the sound was muffled as Perry’s bulge pressed into his mouth. “Smells good, huh boy?” Perry murmured. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of that ahead of you.”

Tim’s eyes went wide with terror as he felt the toe of Perry’s boot begin to bear down on his crotch.

“And don’t get any ideas while you’re down there. One wrong move and I will turn you into a soprano faster than you can say brokeback, got it?”

Tim’s affirmative reply was again muffled tuzla escort by Perry’s mammoth bulge.

“Fine, fine,” Perry said, easing up his vice-like grip just slightly, “Don’t you worry, Timmy, I’m here to answer your prayers, boy. You wanted cock? I’ve got cock for you. Now let’s get started. Why don’t you reach up there, pop that sucker outta those pants, and see what you can do for me to make me your friend.”

Tim’s hands were shaking as they went to the waistband of Perry’s briefs and slipped under the elastic, pulling them down hesitantly. When the cock tucked inside was fully free of the stretchy material, his eyes went wide again and his own much smaller member gave an involuntary spasm. He licked his lips, nervously wetting the parched skin, and moved to take the behemoth in his hands when Perry’s grip on him tightened once more.

“Now hold on there, this isn’t right.” He was yanked up onto his feet again. “Get those trousers off. Naked for me. Now! You’re mine now and I want to take a look.” He let go of Tim’s hair and took a step back. Tim stood there for a second, looking at Perry, trying to size up the situation. “Well get a move on!”

The bigger man feinted forward and Tim jumped, then hastily started to undress. As he pulled off his shirt, Perry absently pulled open one of the desk drawers, examining the contents. Tim started pulling off his socks and shoes. Perry opened another drawer. Next Tim started removing his trousers; Perry opened the bottom drawer.

“Well! Look at this!” He bent to retrieve a bright pink buttplug, straightening up and dangling it from his thumb and forefinger like a prize catch. “What have we here? Oh, Timmy! This is too much! You like this? We are going to have so much fun, you and I! Well what’s the matter?” Tim was standing in just his pants, waiting for Perry, hands trying vainly to cover his little erection. “Naked, bitch! Bare fuckin’ flesh! I wanna see that ass!” Tim slowly pulled down his pants to stand, shivering slightly. Perry walked around him slowly, looking him up and down, before coming to a rest beside him.

“Hands and knees, boy! Now!” He started to get to the floor. “I said NOW!” Perry slapped his ass so hard he let out a yelp as he dropped down to all fours. A glowing red handprint was starting to raise up against the fair skin of his bottom. Perry admired the view for a moment. Tim’s ass was a girly ass; faintly rounded hips blossoming into a slight bubble butt, lightly dusted in fine blond hairs that were almost invisible. Using the toe of his boot, he nudged Tim’s knees apart, opening up his ass for view, and then dropped to his haunches to get a closer look, putting the pink buttplug on the floor beside him. Tim’s anus was clean, puckered, pink, and tightly clenched.

“That’s a pretty ass you got there, bitch,” Perry said softly. He stuck his forefinger into his own mouth to wet it slightly and then pressed it unceremoniously into the pucker, sending a grunt out of Tim’s trembling lips. “Don’t worry, we’re going to loosen that up.” He pulled his finger back out again.

Perry picked up the buttplug and placed it against Tim’s clenched hole and started screwing it in. “Better let loose or this is going to really hurt, boy.” Tim gasped as the buttplug felt like it would tear his asshole apart, trying desperately to relax his muscles and let the rubber plug in. Perry just kept twisting it in like a machine pressing the ever expanding point into him faster than he could release his grip on his sphincter. Beads of sweat sprang from his pores as he clenched his üsküdar escort teeth against the searing sensation, and perspiration dripped from his nose but still Perry pressed on, merciless, relentless, pitiless. Just as it felt like his ring was going to rip open, the plug popped inside and his ass clamped shut around it, spasms of pain shivering back and forth through his body, his breath coming in little ragged gasps.

“Good boy,” Perry beamed, “It looks pretty with that little pink bulb sticking out like that. My ass,” he gave the other cheek a slap to match the first. Tim’s asshole kept clenching and quivering around the unyielding rubber buried in it as Perry got to his feet again and circled back, absently stroking his half-erect member, and stopped once more in front of Tim.

“Suck my cock.”

Tim stared up for a second.

“You don’t want me to have to tell you again,” the threat was like molasses. Wincing with pain, Tim raised himself up into a kneeling position and, with hands shaking, reached for Perry’s cock, guiding it to his mouth. Tears streaked his face as he opened wide and started taking it into his mouth. It was huge. With his jaws wide open it was just possible for him to get the first inch or two into his mouth before he gagged, coughing and spluttering as he pulled back. Perry’s foot pressed threateningly onto his balls.

“I’d get to work if I were you,” he said quietly. Tim opened his mouth again and took Perry’s bell end in, then eased a bit more of it into his mouth while both his hands gripped the rubbery thing like a railing. Sighing with a bit of exasperation, Perry bucked his hips, sending several more inches into Tim’s wide open mouth. “Come on,” he said as he began fucking the mouth hole, “it’s not some kind of science project. It’s cock sucking, and you’re going to get a whole lot better at it if you know what’s good for you.”

Tim was choking and gagging but Perry had him by the hair again, his right foot was still pressing Tim’s balls into the floor as he continued fucking the mouth slowly.

“This is your life now,” he said as he thrust in, sending his manhood coursing for Tim’s tightly constricted throat. “You’re my piece of ass, faggot.” He emphasized the word with another full-on pump. “You wanted to play both ends and you pissed off Sars, and now you’re mine. And when you go back to London, I’ll be there too. You are my cum dumpster now. My bitch. My faggot… It’s everything you dreamed of. You are going to fall in love with my cock, worship that bitch, suck it and fuck it and take it whenever I feel like it. You’re going to be my on-call hole.” He began pumping faster, the head bumping the back of Tim’s throat making him convulse as he choked repeatedly. Perry’s breath was coming faster and faster.

“My bitch, my bitch! My hole, my little faggot hole.” He fucked the mouth hole faster and faster. “My pussy my ass my bitch you’re mine, unh, unh, unh,” he pounded his cock home over and over and over again as Tim focused his whole concentration on not biting down, “fuuucckk yeeeaah biiitch… fuck fuck fuuuunhk fuuu yeah”

The first spurt of cum went straight down Tim’s throat, catching in his esophagus as the second load sprayed into his mouth, coating his tongue. He choked and a string of cum shot out of his nose as more and more pumped into his mouth while Perry held his head still and bucked his hips. Finally, his urgency eased, and he stopped fucking, pulling out to leave Tim with a gaping jaw and cum draining from his sinuses.

“Yeah,” Perry said, “my bitch.” He wiped himself on Tim’s shirt, pulled on his pants and trousers, and walked out. “See you again soon, bitch,” he called over his shoulder as the door swung shut behind him.

Tim blew his nose into the shirt and then sat back, feeling the buttplug still buried in his ass. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he started masturbating.

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The Three Bitches, as a good many of the older ladies of the Summerside retirement community in Melbourne, Florida, referred to Annelise, Becky, and Karen, watched with barely suppressed sighs as new fellow resident, Phil, walked between their lounge beds and the edge of the community pool en route to the tennis courts. He did his best not to do more than nod, mumble “Ladies,” and give a tight little smile. He knew that if he showed more interest than that the three would be on him like cats on a wounded sparrow, which he thought a particularly apt image.

“What a hunk,” Becky muttered behind her Kindle after he’d walked by. “Have either of you . . .?”

“Not me,” Karen quickly answered.

“Me neither . . . not quite yet, although I think I might be getting somewhere with him,” Annelise volunteered.

Annelise was ever the more optimistic and forward of the three, even though, at sixty-one, she was the oldest. She was the more manufacturedly perfect of the three, though, having had a fortune to spend on uplifts and tummy tucks and cosmetic miracles. The other two were not yet sixty, which made the three the youngest women in the community—and, thus, the disapproval gossip target of the other spinsters and widows who made up nearly 80 percent of the owners of manufactured homes surrounding the artificial finger lake of the community. The animosity went deeper than just their ages, though. The three hadn’t given up yet. They hadn’t given up on toning their bodies and beating off old age, and they hadn’t given up on landing that last husband or sugar daddy. None of the three had given up on using the “fuck” word as more than just an explicative—or on doing it whenever they could maneuver a man who could get hard into their clutches.

Ever since Phil had moved in five weeks earlier, he had been the center of their attention as the newly minted most eligible man of the lot—this despite that he had recently hit seventy. It was a very well-preserved seventy, though, and neither of the Three Bitches were aware he was that old. He had always been a trim and handsome man who spent more than his share of time in the gym. And, as significant as anything else, thanks to his mother’s genes, he’d kept a full head of hair that had turned a luminous shade of gray.

“You’re putting us on about getting closer to him,” Karen said, lowering her sunglasses to show Annelise that she was putting on a mock glower.

“If you think that then how would I know that he recently lost his wife? Her name was Lynn, she was younger than he is—about our age, which we should take as a sign, ladies—and he’s devastated. It’s not that he isn’t interested, I’m sure. He’s just still in shock and mourning.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping him get past mourning,” Becky said, using a cooing voice tone. “He’s one well-preserved man.”

“He was a professional tennis player once, you know,” Annelise said, determined to dole out the information she’d gleaned in the sales office slowly and with the inference she’d gotten it straight from him.

“Do tell?” Becky said. “His body certainly bears that out.”

“Speaking of hunks,” Karen muttered under her breath. “Look see who appeareth now. We’re getting a parade of the best men in complex.”

Heads swiveled as another man, in tennis togs, appeared from the same direction Phil had appeared and moved toward the same destination—the tennis court that adjoined the swimming pool. This man, Sergio, the recreation director of the community, was even hunkier than Phil was. Of course he was twenty years younger than Phil was. A Brazilian, with an accent that the women of the community swooned over, Sergio was all muscle—for his age—and deeply tanned.

The Three Bitches adjusted their lounge beds slightly to get a better view of the tennis courts, and they swooned and sighed in unison as both men took off their shirts and moved to opposite sides of the court to start warming up.

“Oh, god, what I’d give to be fucked by that Brazilian,” Becky cooed.

“I’d happily open my legs for either one of them,” Karen chimed in.

“Best concentrate on Phil,” Annelise said with a knowing smirk, “Sergio wouldn’t be interested.”

“Oh, how would you know that?” Karen challenged her. “Lots of men wear an earring like that—although I’m a little leery of the nipple ring. But if you ask me, it’s very sexy. In fact, they’re both very sexy. I’m melting.”

“You’ve been out in this sun too long. You’re beginning to take on the cast of old leather.” Becky turned back to Annelise then. “You know that because you hit on him and he didn’t bite? Not every man who’s straight will want to get into your bikini bottoms, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I know what I know,” Annelise persisted.

“I still say I’d open my legs for either one of them,” Karen said in a dreamy voice, her eyes plastered on the tennis court, her attention bouncing back and forth between the two shirtless men along with the movement of the tennis ball.

* * * *

“You let me win,” Sergio said when he alsancak escort and Phil had finished their match on the tennis court and were swigging bottled water by the bench where they had stashed their gear. “With what I’d heard about you having been on the pro circuit, I thought I didn’t have a chance.”

“The pro circuit was decades ago, Sergio,” Phil answered. “I’m just an old man today. I ran out of steam, and you’re a much younger man. And you play very well too.” Phil was rotating an arm at the shoulder and wincing a bit, not yet stowing his gear away as Sergio was busy doing.

“I’m not a young man either,” Sergio said with a laugh.

“Twenty years or so, I’d say,” Phil countered. “It makes a difference.”

“Not twenty years, surely” Sergio said, with a laugh, but happy that Phil seemed to think he was about forty. “I’m fifty, and you’re probably the most fit sixty-year-old in the community.”

“Seventy,” Phil interjected.

Sergio whistled appreciatively. “I would never have guessed,” he said, “and I can see why I won the match now. You’re having trouble with those shoulder muscles, aren’t you?”

“It’s what age—and inactivity—will do for you,” Phil answered, the tone of regret and defeat coming through loud and clear in his voice.

Sergio gave him a sharp look and then turned and finished stowing his gear away. “I promised I’d come by and help you get your computer hooked up,” he said, not looking at Phil, who was still looking dejected as he pulled a Polo shirt over his torso and starting putting his tennis stuff in his bag. “Any time convenient for you that I can come over to do that?”

“Sure, any time you can schedule it,” Phil answered, his voice flat. And then he continued in a somewhat faraway voice, “Any time at all. I’m not going anywhere . . . any more. I have all the time in the world now.”

“How about tomorrow afternoon at 4:00 p.m.? I have an exercise class to give at 2:00. I’d have plenty of time to wrap that up and get showered.”

“4:00 it is then,” Phil said as he turned to walk away. “And . . . thanks for helping with the computer. I’m a dunce at that. It was always taken care of by . . . let’s just say that anything electronic is way beyond me. And thanks for the tennis game too. I’d gotten rusty.”

“I’m the one who should thank you for the tennis. Now I can say I’ve played a pro—and I’m willing to bet this is the last time I win. And the help with the computer is just one of my jobs here. Happy to do it.” Sergio didn’t turn to watch Phil depart until Phil was almost at the gate in the tall, chain-link fence surrounding the tennis court. Phil hesitated, perhaps thinking of turning to say something, but then he resumed moving through the gate and toward the swimming pool, his body in a stance of dejection.

Sergio had meant this tennis game to be something to lift the new resident’s spirits. As soon as he’d heard that Phil had been a professional tennis player when he was younger, Sergio had thought this would be a way to help the man settle in at Summerside. Many coming here as their first stop in a retirement community had trouble adjusting to the life. And it was part of Sergio’s job, as the recreational director, to do what he could to get them settled in. Phil was more forlorn and withdrawn than most. Of course, Sergio had been told that Phil was here because he was recently widowed and had had a spouse who did almost everything for him.

Such residents usually were the toughest ones to fit in.

Beyond doing his duty, Sergio was attracted to Phil. Really good-looking man, Sergio thought. There’s no way he would have guessed Phil had hit seventy. He had kept himself in great shape—probably a function of having been a professional athlete—and he was quite a handsome man. Yes, quite a handsome man indeed, Sergio thought.

The Three Bitches interrupted their chattering as Karen noticed that the tennis game was over and Phil was walking by between them and the side of the pool again. She nudged the other two and they went into a “we don’t notice you at all, we don’t even see you” pose as they scrutinized Phil’s progress behind Kindles and magazines across their field of sight.

“He looks sad,” Becky whispered.

“I’d still jump his bones in a nanosecond,” Karen whispered back.

“He’s well worth it,” Annelise said smugly. “He’s hung.”

“You’ve never,” Becky hissed. “You’re just putting us on.”

“You just don’t know how to interpret sweaty tennis shorts,” Annelise answered with a sniff in her voice.

The three giggled into their tanned, manicured hands. Phil just kept on walking, not looking around, although the giggles were loud enough to reach his ears. He had no time for the women of the Summerside retirement community—to him, the last stop in this life—and, considering the depth of the grief of his recent loss, his stay here couldn’t possibly be too short.

* * * *

“The computer is in the bedroom,” Phil said when he opened the door to Sergio altıeylül escort the next afternoon. “And thanks for doing this. I know that if I tried to hook it up, I’d blow the electricity for the entire community. I’ll go make us some coffee. I think staying out of the way would be my best contribution to this.”

“You might be right,” Sergio said as he entered the manufactured home, “there are some people who are quite talented otherwise who just don’t seem to be able to get along with electronics.”

“That would be me,” Phil answered, moving toward the kitchen at the right, as Sergio headed toward the door to the master bedroom to the left. “I had someone to take care of all of that for me. I had Lynn.”

Was that a catch in Phil’s voice Sergio heard? He kept his eyes turned away from Phil and toward his destination, the master bedroom. This was a retirement community he was working in. He was accustomed to the older folks coming here not long after the loss of their spouse—or not long before they themselves passed on. It wasn’t just any depression they might feel from moving from a substantial suburban home to what, essentially, was a glorified trailer park. It was too much change too late in life—an awareness that life had passed them by.

Sergio couldn’t see the housing units here as anything but fancy trailers. Once inside Phil’s unit, though, he could see that it was as solid looking as any stick-built home. But if you looked carefully you could see that the walls weren’t wood or brick but some other man-made board covered in vinyl wallpaper. The interior was commodious enough, for one person, with the hub of the building being a kitchen-dining area-family room section, with a large master bedroom and bath and a smaller guest room and main bathroom off the family room. To the right, beyond the kitchen and dining areas was a large living room, which looked like it was used mainly as a transit room to a screened porch, facing the lake. Phil had managed to snarf up one of the premium lots right on the water.

Phil himself looked in better spirits today than yesterday. And to Sergio he looked good—trim, but well muscled, still causing Sergio to disbelieve that the man was seventy. He still had a full head of hair, which always helped to keep a man looking younger, even though it had gone fully to gray. He was wearing a close-fitting white T-shirt over white shorts today, which contrasted nicely with the tan he was developing. He might have lost steam on the tennis court yesterday, Sergio thought, and left dejected for some reason, but exercising out in the sun was benefiting him—and making him look hot to someone like Sergio in more ways than temperature.

The computer desk was set in the corner of what was a pretty large bedroom, dominated by a queen-sized bed. All the modules needed were there, but Sergio could tell from the tangle of wires that Phil had made a half-hearted effort to hook it up himself but had stopped quickly in frustration. Computer support was key to Sergio’s recreation services job, though, so he had no trouble seeing what needed to be done and getting down to doing it.

There was a shelf above the computer desk. A few books laying on their backs and stacked on top of each other, but there were photographs too—of Phil, some younger, some recent—and also of who must be Lynn. Sergio did a double take at seeing the photos and began to readjust his thinking about Phil—and his own attitude toward Phil.

Phil had arrived with a cup of coffee for Sergio. “Is it a hopeless mess?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Sergio answered. “We should have you up and running in no time.”

“Thanks,” Phil said. Sergio was looking up at him and saw Phil wince. The older man put his own cup of coffee down on the top of a nearby bureau and rotated the same arm he was having trouble with at the close of the match the previous day. The expression on his face showed that he was in some pain.

“Your shoulder. It’s still hurting you?”

“Yes, a little. Just getting to be too old for tennis. Too old for much of anything.”

“Nonsense. You’re too good a player to give it up this young. You’ve kept in great shape. A massage could take care of that.”

“I suppose,” Phil answered noncommittally. He picked up his coffee cup and turned to leave. “You’ll do better without me to jinx the computer build,” he said. “Trust me on that. I’ll be in the other room, marinating a steak for dinner.”

“I see you have photographs,” Sergio said, arresting Phil’s departure. “You and Lynn, I take it?”

Phil’s gaze went to the photographs as if seeing them for the first time, just now realizing he’d left them there. There was a nervous pause and then he sighed and said, “Yes, that’s us. That’s Lynn. Much younger than me. It should have been me who went first.”

“I understand,” Sergio said, saying so much in that phrase, saying enough to be able to see some of the tension draining out of Phil that had suddenly arisen at the realization that altınordu escort he hadn’t put those photographs away before Sergio arrived.

“I’ll . . . I’ll be in the kitchen if there’s anything you’re missing here that I might be able to find for you.”

“I don’t think I’m missing anything,” Sergio said. “Everything’s fine. I mean it, Phil. Everything’s fine.”

Phil gave him a look with a touch of surprise in it and then left the room.

After he got the computer going and hooked up to the Internet, Sergio tested the machine out on some of his own favorite Web sites—just to be sure. And when he found that everything was as he expected, everything was fine.

“So, how did it go?” Phil asked, as Sergio came out of the bedroom. “Find everything you needed?”

“Yes, thanks, I found out all I needed to know. And you’re good to go now.”

He had taken his time. He could see, looking the full length of the home to the bay window in the living room opening to a lake view, that twilight was beginning to descend. While he’d been working on the computer, he’d decided that he’d like it to be close to dinnertime before he finished.

“What do I owe you?” Phil asked. “You’re a lifesaver. A guy can’t be without the Internet—even an old guy like me. Especially an old guy like me—suddenly living alone.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s part of my job. But I would have been happy to have done it for you anyway.”

“Well, we’re well into happy hour,” Phil said, after a pause during which Sergio hadn’t moved toward the front door. “How about a drink out on the screen porch before you go? Although it seems you deserve more than that for getting me hooked up.”

“A drink would be nice, thanks. And, well, if it’s not asking too much, I see that you have two steaks marinating there. I live alone myself . . . and it’s getting toward supper time . . .”

“Yes, of course. I should have invited you myself. I haven’t been too swift lately in my thinking. Let’s have the drink—or maybe a couple—out on the screened porch and then I’ll put the steaks on. We can eat on the porch too. I spend a lot of time out there—alone—watching the lake. Getting this lot was the best decision I made in moving here.”

They had two drinks before Phil put the steaks on, and the conversation had become loose and warm as they watched the sun sink over the lake. Phil obviously hadn’t had anyone to talk to for some time, and Sergio studiously was being the good listener. There still were areas, facets of Phil’s life, that he didn’t go into, but Sergio was being very open about his own life—and his preferences.

He wanted Phil to know.

As they were finishing their steaks, Sergio brought up Phil’s problem with his shoulder again. He obviously was in pain even from the slightest use of it while setting up and breaking down the supper elements. “I think that a massage would do that a world of good. I don’t want you to stop playing tennis. I want to play more with you myself.”

“I suppose. I guess I could check around to see—”

“I’m a trained masseur. I could take care of that for you myself.”

“You could?” Phil’s expression was one of surprise, as if he’d never considered this before and that it was significant information.

Sergio put his drink down and turned serious eyes on Phil. “Yes. I can help you. I want to help you.”

The seriousness of Sergio’s expression wasn’t lost on Phil. They’d been dancing around the topic for a couple of hours now, honing ever closer to the center of the issue, and Phil had made no suggestion that it was time for Sergio to leave. “I’m an old man, Sergio. I’m past all that. But thanks for the offer.”

“Screw the old man stuff,” Sergio spat out. “You are only as old as you want to be. I can give you a good massage, a special massage. I want to.”

“Here, now?” Phil said, a note of panic in his voice.

“No, not tonight. We’re both liquored up tonight. I wouldn’t want any part of my massage to hurt you or be what you didn’t want. I’ll be back tomorrow, same time. That will give you plenty of time to decide whether you want a massage. If not, though, it isn’t because you are an old man and can’t take the sort of massage that would do you good.”

* * * *

“God, you’re as good as Lynn. You’re better than Lynn,” Phil gasped. He was lying, face down on a portable massage table in the middle of his living room, naked other than a towel draped over his buttocks. Sergio, stripped to the waist, was standing above him, working Phil’s shoulder muscles with a deep-tissue massage.

“Lynn gave you massages then, did he?” Sergio asked in low, thick voice. He still couldn’t believe that Phil was seventy. He had the body of a much younger man. He was thickening, yes, but he was still solid and had muscle tone.

“Yes, Lynn did everything for me. Lynn was everything for and to me.”

“I can’t replace Lynn; I don’t want to replace him,” Sergio answered—he, in fact, thought he could replace Phil’s younger, male lover, and he wanted to, but this wasn’t the time to assert that—”but I can give you massages. And,” he boldly added, “I could give you so much more.”

Surely Phil wasn’t so slow on the uptake not to know what Sergio was offering, the Brazilian thought. If Phil was going to reject the offer, this is where it should occur.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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On my patrols I had seen him playing his guitar around downtown; in the plazas and parks with his case open for tips. Though tonight was the first time I saw him when I was off duty. I sat at the bar, sipping my hard cider and listening to him play. The bar often had undiscovered musicians perform on the weekends and I enjoyed the fact that this was the first time I could listen to a full song. His voice was soothing, and lulled his listeners into a relaxed state. He sang about lost innocents and as he filled the bar with his soft vocals and calming notes, his lyrics seemed sincere.

“Pretty good, right?” Joe the bartender leaned across the bar, wiping down the counter with his bar rag.

“Yeah. I think he’s probably the best one I’ve heard in here so far,” I took another sip from my amber bottle.

“I’m actually thinking of having him here regularly. I’ve gotten more positive feedback on this kid, than all my other performers combined.”

“Won’t that upset the other musicians? They usually are here on rotation, right?”

“Yeah, but none of them are half as good. Plus, the kid is good looking. If the patrons don’t love listening, they love looking,” Joe admitted.

“I see,” I said with a smile, remembering how much of a business man Joe was. Though, I also agreed with his assumption that the singer was in fact cute. He didn’t seem much older than twenty, though he had to be at least twenty-one for Joe to let him perform in the bar. His skin was a sun burnt tan, making his light grey eyes more startling. His brown hair was combed back under a grey beanie, giving him a true laid back musician look. From his tattered t-shirt and over shirt to his hole-filled blue jeans, he just screamed empty wallet. Over all, the kid looked like a helpless puppy and it pulled at my heart strings. But that could just be the cop in me.

“Not to mention, he could probably really use the money,” Joe added. He, too, noticed the singer’s rough appearance.

“Yeah, the kid does look like he could use a fresh set of clothes,” I held my bottle up to my lip. Joe smiled.

“Kid? You’re still a year or so shy of thirty. Not much older,” Joe began to arrange bottles behind the bar.

“For one, I showed you my ID for alcohol. Not so you could remind me how old I am. And two, there’s a big difference from your early twenties to your late twenties. At that age, you still think the world is yours to conquer,” I shook my head in dismay, and took another swig of my drink.

“And at this age?” Joe asked.

“At this age…” I held up my bottle like I was looking for the answer in the brown glass. “At this age, you realize the world has a lot more bad than good to go around.”

“Talk about depressing,” Joe grabbed some bottles and they clanked against each other.

“Just saying how it is.” The music then stopped.

“Hey guys, I’m just taking a short break. So don’t go away,” the musician sat down his guitar and grabbed the tips from his case.

“Hey, Justice,” Joe greeted the kid as he came to sit at the bar.

“Hi, Joe. Could I get a Pepsi?” he took the stool one seat down from me.

“Sure,” Joe began to fill a glass off the tap. “By the way, Justice, this is my friend Westley Harnath.”

“Nice to meet you,” Justice held out his hand and I shook it.

“Like wise.” I returned to my drink.

“I think I’ve seen you around,” Justice commented.

“You’re often on my patrol route.” The young man gave a thoughtful look.

“Westley, here, is a cop,” Joe said while placing the Pepsi in front of the singer.

“Oh,” Justice gave a look that I couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was unease or surprise, perhaps both.

“And a damn good one,” Joe added. I shot him a look, and gave an uncomfortable cough.

“So, Justice. Are you a local?” I tried to change the subject.

“Uh, no. I moved here a few months back,” the singer eyed his soda.

“Where from?” I asked.

“I’ve lived lots of places, never for very long. Anyways, I think I better get back,” he took a quick drink from his glass and returned to the stage.

“That wasn’t much of an answer,” I said, taking a drink.

“You scared the kid off,” Joe took the Pepsi glass away.

“He’s hiding something,” I finished off my hard cider.

“Probably, but don’t go running off my best performer.”

“Fine. Fine,” I tossed a few bucks on the bar and headed towards the exit. As I passed by the stage, I leaned in to drop a twenty in the case. I glanced up at the kid, and he smiled down at me as he continued to sing about a home long behind him. A knot formed in my stomach, but that could have been the alcohol.

“Hey again,” I greeted the musician. He sat cross legged on the sidewalk, his case open for tips. It had been at least a week since I had seen him perform in the bar.

“Hi. On patrol?” Justice smiled up at me. His guitar sat in his lap, and his fingers were in a resting position.

“Yeah, but I was thinking of taking a lunch soon.” I glanced at his guitar case, which keçiören escort was practically empty except for a few small bills. “Would you, umm, like to join me?” The kid looked up at me with an uncomfortable look.

“I- I’m not sure…”

“Is it the uniform?” I joked, pulling on my shirt collar.

“No, no, no. Just-”

“Then come on, there’s a sandwich shop at the end of the block.” I started toward the restaurant, and Justice quickly put away his guitar and followed me with his case in tow.

On reaching the sandwich shop, we got in line with ten or so people in front of us.

“I appreciate this Officer Harnath, but-“

“Call me Westley.”

“Westley, but I don’t exactly have money on me for lunch,” he held his guitar case tightly in his hands.

“I’ll cover it, no worries,” the lined moved forward.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Hey, it’s lunch between friends. Not a big deal,” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Friends?” he looked up at me skeptically.

“Yeah. And friends buy each other lunch.”

“Uh, okay. Yeah. Friends,” the kid smiled. “But I promise to pay you back.”

“Fine, then. Let’s order,” we stepped forward in line.

After getting our sandwiches, we went outside to sit on a bench. Justice laid his guitar case on the ground next to us and placed one leg over it, protectively.

“Sure keep that thing close on hand,” I gestured towards the case.

“Oh, Matilda. Yeah, she’s the only constant in my life,” the white wrapping paper crinkled as he took a large bite from his sandwich.

“Matilda?” I asked, taking a bite from my own sandwich.

“Yeah,” he spoke through a mouth full of bread.

“Why Matilda?” I turned towards him, and leaned my elbow on the back of the bench.

“It’s a personal thing,” he looked down, hiding his eyes from me.

“Sorry for butting in. I think it’s the cop in me,” I looked away and he turned towards me.

“I can understand that. I mean it’s your job.”

“It is. But Joe says I scare people off with my constant questioning and paranoia.”

“But isn’t that how you solve cases? And people’s problems?” he took another mouth stuffing bite. I turned to look at the kid, and for a second he appeared completely innocent. The opposite of what his appearance and behavior would suggest.

“Very true,” I smiled. Justice gave a confident nod, since his mouth was still full. “I hate to say it, but I have to get back to it.”

“Really?” Justice watched me get up from the bench, mustard around his mouth. His sandwich was long gone now, and the wrapper was balled up on the bench.

“Yeah. And I don’t like to waste, so do you want what’s left of my sandwich?” I held out my half eaten lunch.

“Sure!” he quickly took it from me. Don’t ask me why, but I instinctively leaned forward and wiped the mustard off his lips with my thumb. For a couple seconds I was within a few inches of his face. I could feel his breath.

“Thank you for joining me for lunch,” I quickly stepped back and started down the sidewalk. “Hey,” I called back to him, and he looked up at me with a blank expression. “Make sure you throw away your trash!” He gave me a grin and nodded.

It was the end of the week, and several days since my lunch with Justice. I sat down at Joe’s bar, and waited for my usual apple beer.

“Here you go,” Joe sat down my bottle.

“Hey. I see he’s here again. Did you decided to actually make him permanent?” I nodded towards Justice playing on the small stage.

“Yeah, though my other musicians aren’t too happy.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, they’re all just as desperate for that dollar but not nearly as talented,” Joe started drying glasses.

“I agree,” I turned to watch the young man play. Another soft ballad about pain. This was becoming a regular theme with him.

“I heard you had lunch with him the other day,” Joe spoke nonchalantly.

“Yeah, what of it?” I didn’t take my eyes off the musician. I watched his mouth move as he sang softly into the microphone.

“Are you sweet on him?” Joe asked. I glanced at him, and he raised an eyebrow at me.

“I took him to lunch is all,” I retorted.

“Because if you are, you know that I’ve never had a problem with your lifestyle.”

“I know Joe.”

“So, are you?” he asked. I didn’t respond; I simply gave him an annoyed look and took a drink of my hard cider. “Fine, be that way,” Joe pretended to be insulted.

A few hours went by, and I was still at the bar listening to Justice singing. I had nowhere to be in the morning, and Justice’s performance was the highlight to my week.

“Last call everyone!” Joe called out.

“Too bad, I was getting comfortable,” I joked.

“That’s what I was worried about,” Joe took away my empty bottle. I had only two, but all the same, I was glad that I walked to the bar.

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming and listening tonight. Have a safe trip home,” Justice said into the mic küçükçekmece escort before getting off his stool and packing up his guitar.

“He always say that?” I asked.

“Every night,” Joe smiled. Justice approached the bar.

“Hey Joe. Westley,” he smiled at me, and I felt something in my stomach roll over.

“Hey Justice,” I greeted.

“Here’s your pay, bud,” Joe handed over an envelope.

“Thanks. Well, I guess I’m out. Have a good night guys,” Justice headed for the door.

“Wish I could pay him more,” Joe added after the musician had gone outside.

“How much is he making playing for you?”

“Seventy-five bucks a night,” Joe couldn’t hide the guilt in his voice.

“That is not enough to live off of. Where the hell is he staying?”

“I have no idea, and I tried to ask but he wouldn’t say.” I let out a groan. “Oh come on, Harnath. What am I supposed to do? Interrogate the kid till he tells me his life story?”

“No, no. Just…”

“What?” Joe asked gruffly.

“Nothing. Have a good night, Joe.” I laid a twenty on the bar and made my exit. Once outside, I felt the cold chill and I pulled up my coat collar. I started down the block when I heard noise from the alley.

“Punk ass bitch!” I heard a female voice. On reaching the entrance, I saw three people with someone pinned against the wall. A fist flew through the air and landed against their victim’s face.

“Hey!” I shouted. Suddenly a face looked out at me with light grey eyes. At that horrified glance, I fell into a dead run towards them. They let go and he slumped down against the wall. I chased the group to the end of the alley and then they scattered out of view. I returned to Justice, a small pile on the ground. “Look at me,” I said, turning his face towards me. He looked up at me, his eyes filled to the brim with tears. “I know you’re not okay, so I won’t ask. But can you walk?” He nodded. “Kay, come on then.” I helped him up and place his arm over my shoulder, and wrapped my arm around his waist.

“Matilda. Don’t forget Matilda,” he said drowsily. I looked around and saw his guitar case was open and his guitar had been smashed. Probably by someone’s boot. I bent slightly and closed the case, grasping the handle in my free hand.

“I got her,” I assured, moving us forward in the direction of my apartment.

We took the elevator up and I had to balance Justice and Matilda in one arm, and open the apartment with the other. My studio apartment was too small for both a couch and bed. I sat Justice on the end of my bed, and put Matilda in the closet. I didn’t want him finding his guitar all broken like that. I quickly grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom and returned to Justice. I sat the kit on the floor and knelt in front of him.

“This will sting,” I dampened a cotton ball with peroxide. I touched a cut above his eye and he winced but held his position.

“Thank you,” he looked down at me.

“It’s nothing,” I pulled out a bandage and began to place it over his cut.

“I’m not talking about the first aid,” he frowned.

“I know,” was all I said as I began to clean his fat lip.

“They were some of Joe’s old performers. They weren’t happy about me taking their spots.”

“Probably jealous of your talent, as well,” I added.

“I highly doubt that,” he looked down embarrassed. I grabbed his chin and made him look up at me.

“You are an exceptional musician. And don’t you doubt that,” I locked eyes with him, and I could literally feel the tension. Joe was right, I was sweet on him. But not because he was good looking, though that helped; he intrigued me. He was a mystery; he obviously had a rough life that he refused to speak about, but he was kind and polite to everyone just the same. Aware that we had been staring back at each other for several moments, I broke away and cleared my throat. “I’ll go throw these away,” I picked up the dirty cotton balls and empty bandage wrappers. Making my way into the kitchen, which was nothing more than a short row of counters along the far wall, I threw the trash in the garbage next to the fridge. “Are you hungry, or anything?”

“I’m a bit thirsty,” Justice answered shyly. Afraid to inconvenience me, I assumed.

“I have beer-“

“I don’t drink,” he quickly responded, cutting me off mid-sentence. I could see by his body shift, he regretted the way he reacted.

“That’s alright. How does water sound?” I asked, pulling a glass from the cupboard.

“Sounds good, thank you,” Justice watched me from his seat on the bed, his grey eyes still vigilant though one was slowly beginning to swell from the beating. I joined him on the bed, handing him the glass. He looked up at me as he took a drink from his glass. I watched as the water lapped at his pale lips and as he pulled the glass away from his mouth, all I wanted to do was touch them with my own.

“I’m going to go get you some aspirin,” I quickly ducked into the bathroom, shutting kurtköy escort the door behind me. I stared at myself in the mirror, asking myself to cool my shit. A pair of blue eyes stared back at me, filled with the loneliness I had come use to seeing every morning. The problem with being a cop is that you find the worst in people. You don’t even mean to, but somehow it happens. And that caused me to become unenchanted with love. I had my chances, and plenty of them. I was good looking, with my short blonde hair which I combed slightly to the side like I was still in the academy. My face was thin and smooth, all tied together with high cheek bones and a firm jaw. I was lean but muscular, all thanks to the training I did twice a week at the department gym. Based on my looks I got plenty of offers, but that’s not what I wanted. I wasn’t the type to sleep around, and my police brain made relationships difficult. Guys don’t find it sexy when you give them tickets for expired plates or kill their party mood when you won’t smoke weed with them. Twenty-eight years old, and undeniably single. But no matter how lonely I was, Justice needed my help. Pursuing him now would be wrong. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the aspirin from the cabinet and returned to the living room. “Here you go,” I spoke, handing him the bottle.

“Thank you,” he gave me one of his glorious smiles, though this one drooped in one corner due to his fat lip. It made him even more attractive in a way. Shutting down the sexual part of my mind was going to be harder than I thought, especially if he kept smiling at me.

“No problem,” I said, though I could hear myself internally screaming that there was a big fucking problem. Everything about him made me either want to kiss him seductively or hold him protectively. Either way, I’d probably scare the guy. He took two pills and washed them down with his water.

“I should get going. Thank you for taking care of me,” he stood up and I watched his legs shake a bit.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to sit back down. He looked up at me with startled grey eyes. Quickly I explained, “You are in no condition to be going anywhere. Tomorrow, I’ll take you home. Tonight, you sleep here.”

“There’s only one bed,” he pointed out. We could share it, I said to myself but thought better not. I opened the closet and pulled a sleeping bag from the top shelf.

“I’ll take the floor,” I placed the sleeping bag at the foot of the bed.

“You don’t hav-” he started.

“Here,” I pulled a t-shirt and pair of sweats from the dresser and tossed them to him. “They say NYPD, but that’s all I got. Sorry,” I pulled out a second set of pants for myself. I got too warm easily, and didn’t wear shirts to bed.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he stared down at the shirt with a small smile on his face. Again, I felt something inside me stir.

“Good,” I pulled my shirt over my head and I glanced over as Justice did the same. His chest was smooth sept for a small trail of hair from his navel that disappeared below his pant line. I noticed a scar that started on the left side of his chest and went over his shoulder. Before I could see anymore, he slid the NYPD top over his head. I turned away as we both took off our bottoms. Probably best if I didn’t see any more of him. It was a struggle to keep my hands to myself just looking at his face. When I turned around, he was standing next to the bed in his new PJs. If he didn’t seem fragile before, he did now. His shoulders didn’t quite fill the shirt sleeves and his chest didn’t push against the fabric like mine did. My legs were obviously longer than his, so the sweats gathered at his ankles. He had taken off his beanie, revealing shagging brown hair that reached a little passed his ears. He was cute… “Night then,” I quickly crawled into the sleeping bag.

“Night, Westley,” Justice spoke, and I didn’t have to look to know he was smiling. Damn… this was going to be hard.

My body automatically woke up at six every morning, no matter what time I had gone to sleep. I felt the aches in my back and ribs as I crawled out of my sleeping bag. As I got to my feet, I looked over at Justice still asleep in my bed. His hair stuck up every which way, and I couldn’t help but watch him breath softly. I almost regretted promising him I’d take him home today, but he’d be back to playing his guitar on street corners and in the bar. That’s when I remembered the smashed instrument in my closest. Quietly I got dressed and grabbed the guitar case, before heading down stairs. I pulled up Google on my phone and made my way several blocks down and a few blocks over. A large painted sign appeared above a brick building; Kevin’s Guitars. As I stepped inside, the door chime went off.

“What can I do for you?” a thin, older man stepped out from the back. Grey hair reached his shoulders and a gold earring hung from one ear.

“I need a guitar repaired,” I placed the case on his counter and opened the lid. The neck was broken and few of the strings were snapped. It had looked much worse to me last night, but that was also in the dark.

“Well I could easily fix the neck, but this guitar is pretty rough. Aged. Are you sure wouldn’t rather just buy a new one?” he asked.

“No. This guitar means a lot to him,” I just didn’t know why, yet…

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

When I was a sophomore in college I moved into a house with my cousin and some of his buddies. I wouldn’t have found a place to live on my own as I was painfully shy and didn’t really have any close friends. I only got into the place because my mom had implored my aunt to convince him to let me move in.

My cousin and his roommates were older, juniors and seniors, and wouldn’t have otherwise been thrilled at having an awkward, lame underclassman living with them. I remember moving in and not feeling totally welcome by my cousin James, but figured I’d make the best of it, as I didn’t have any other options.

In all, there were four of us, each in our own bedroom. Rob, a senior in his fifth year, which was normal given he was in an engineering program that typically took that long, had the largest bedroom and his own bathroom. I don’t recall ever doing anything to piss him off, because I was intimidated by him immediately and didn’t even really have the nerve to say much to him, seemed to take pleasure in mocking me right off the bat. At that point I was still a virgin and hadn’t even so much as kissed or touched a girl’s breast, and that’s a point Rob seemed to pick up on right away.

The first weekend we were hanging out drinking some beers and smoking a little weed, and as we were sitting in the living room on the couches he loudly announced to some girls who just arrived that they didn’t have to worry about me as I preferred sausages, which got a big laugh from everybody. I remember the stinging embarrassment and I knew I should have said something … anything … in that moment, but I just sat there in stunned silence.

Rob fucked one of the girls that night, a thin blonde with almond shaped blue eyes, a light tan and a nice round ass.

At that time, I wasn’t sure about my sexuality, and I definitely wasn’t confident about it. I found women attractive but just never had the nerve to act on it. Rob was the opposite. He was a big, athletic guy with green eyes, a square jaw, broad shoulders and a muscular chest. He was outgoing and charismatic, and people wanted to be his friend and be liked by him.

While good looking, I had softer features and was shorter, thinner and weaker. Rob was a former high school athlete, popular and outgoing. I wasn’t. The guy was pretty much a jerk though, often talking shit to his friends. He didn’t have a girlfriend, but he slept with quite a few.

He often chose me as a target. One night, we were drinking beers in the kitchen, I took a swig and the beer fizzed up and out through the top of the bottle.

“That’s cause Cory drinks beer like he’s sucking a cock,” Rob bellowed, and everyone laughed.

Everyone always laughed at his jokes. Later that night, I was talking to a girl named Sandy, who I had a bit of a crush and had invited over. She was cute and friendly, a brunette with wide brown eyes and round cheeks. She was easy for me to talk to and I even thought it might lead to something.

But when I got up to go to the bathroom, I returned to find Rob sitting next to her. It had taken me weeks to get up the nerve to talk to her, but there he was, sitting right next to her with his hand on her thigh. The next day, he told all of us how she was a pretty good cocksucker, but he’d flipped her around and fucked her from behind when her teeth glanced against his dick.

So it got to a point where I generally tried avoiding him, though that was pretty much impossible given we lived together. The other problem was I started to fantasize about sucking cock and couldn’t get it out of my mind.

We liked smoking weed in the apartment, and that only made things worse because it made me even hornier. Not to mention that when I’d take hits from our bong, if Rob happened to be around, he’d always say how good I was at handling a shaft. I could generally only muster a meager “fuck you” in response, to which he’d reply “Fucked any chicks lately? Then shut up.”

One day I heard Rob talking to our other roommate Chris about his conquests.

“You know, sometimes I even keep a souvenir,” he said.

“No shit,” replied Chris.

“Yeah, underwear, a thong, some booty shorts. I keep it in the back of my bottom drawer. I’ll show you if you want!”

“No, no, man! That’s totally unnecessary,” Chris laughed.

I was intrigued though because I’d recently become interested not only in going down a guy, but also wearing women’s soft and silky clothing. I could only imagine how sexy it would feel to be wearing revealing clothing and kneeling before a man to give him the ultimate pleasure.

The thought of it put knots in my stomach. So I waited until a Thursday, when I knew everybody would be out of the house. On that day, all the guys had classes from the morning until the evening, while I only had one in the afternoon, so I typically had hours to myself. I waited until everyone was gone and locked the front door, just to be safe, so it would seem as if the house was empty. Then I crept into Rob’s bedroom. He’d left the door a crack open and I remembered just bahçelievler escort the right angle to leave it.

Once inside, with his clothes strewn about the floor, his bed unmade and rumpled, I could sense a musky manliness that heated my lower belly. I snuck quickly to his chest of drawers and opened the bottom one, taking a mental note to leave the belongings as undisturbed as I could. Though I doubt it could have mattered. His things weren’t unkempt, but he was no neat freak.

I shuffled through his belongings until toward the back of the drawer I found a cluster of women’s undergarments, knotted black and white thongs, lace boyshorts and panties, and sheer briefs. I felt a bit of a rush as I pulled out a black thong and denim shorts, cut to a size not much longer than a pair of tight boxers.

Unable to contain my excitement, I dropped my shorts to the floor—I’d gone without underwear in anticipation—and stepped into the thong, relishing the feeling as the satiny fabric slid up against my privates. Then I pulled up the shorts and wedged them on tight so they barely covered my ass and left the bottom of my cheeks exposed. I left the top button open and folded them over as I’d seen girls do when they want to reveal as much skin as possible.

Looking around the room I saw a pair of Rob’s underwear on the floor and couldn’t help myself. I picked them up, got on my knees on the carpet and held them close to my face so I could catch a whiff of his manly odor.

It was then then I heard a bang at the door as someone tested the lock and the jangle of keys. Panicked, I darted into the bathroom, leaving my shorts and the bottom drawer open, despite my careful planning to leave everything as I’d found it. I hoped it wasn’t Rob and after a few moments I’d be able to put everything in place, but then I heard his door open. After a few moments, he must have noticed something amiss.

“What the fuck?” I heard him mutter “IS SOMEONE IN HERE?”

My heart pounded in my chest and my face burned red, ‘please just let him walk away,’ I thought, knowing there was little possibility of that happening. I sensed he was looking around his room and then could hear footsteps coming toward me.

“WHO THE FUCK IS IN HERE?” Rob growled, popping open the bathroom door. I stood there, frozen, before him. It took him a moment to realize what was going on.

“Dude, what are you … no shit,” he said, then started laughing. “Are … you wearing?”

“Man, please don’t tell anyone about this,” was all I could manage to say. I could feel Rob’s gaze piercing me as I stood before him in clothes that only moments before had me feeling totally sexy, but now left me feeling embarrassedly exposed.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Rob said, with a snide smile on his face. “I mean, look Cory, I’m not a total asshole, but dude, you were going through my stuff?”

“I’m really sorry …”

“Alright, but you gotta make it up to me man,” Rob said.

Make it up to him? I thought wondering if this might end up with something interesting happening. Is he going to want me to …?

“You actually don’t look bad in those shorts. Turn around,” Rob suddenly belted out.

“You want me to?”

“Do it,” he said. I turned around slowly, with my back arched, so I could peak out my ass. “Tell you what,” Rob said. “You can keep those, just do my laundry once a week and I won’t tell anyone. But wear the shorts when you do it.”

While I was relieved to get out of the situation with Rob, I knew I was now much more vulnerable to him, and part of me had hoped he would have asked for even more. This, of course, turned me on and when I got back to my room, I lay on my bed and stroked my cock until a heaving spray of cum shot across my chest and stomach. I used my T-shirt to clean it up, not wanting to stain newly won thong and shorts.

…

The next Sunday, when I knew everyone was out except Rob, I slipped on the thong and shorts and scampered over to his room. The door was slightly open, so I knocked lightly, pushed it open and peered inside, hoping to move in quickly given the revealing state I was in. Rob lay on his unmade bed looking at his phone, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, with his legs spread open wide and bent at the knees with a bunch of pillows behind his head.

He nodded his approval for me to enter, and I scurried inside, looking around for something to gather the clothes he’d tossed about the room throughout the week. Not seeing anything right away, I figured I’d just gather them in a pile, so I started picking them up and putting them on the floor in the center of the room.

Once most had been gathered, I got on my knees and bent over, which allowed me to both pull together the clothes and expose my ass to Rob. I looked over my shoulder, hoping he may have noticed, and was pleased to see I’d gotten his attention and he was staring directly at me.

“You know what,” he suddenly said, swinging around his legs to sit on the edge of his bed. “You should bakırköy escort wash these socks I’m wearing also.”

He kicked out his feet, resting his heels on the carpet. As I was only a few feet away from him and already on my knees, I knew there was no point in getting up to move toward him. I crawled over and peeled his socks off. I was close enough for the momentary sour smell to hit my nostrils and already on all fours with my head about level with his knees I looked toward him to see if he would signal the next cue. But he only scooted back onto his bed, turning his attention back to his phone, leaving me to finish his laundry.

And that’s how it proceeded the next few weeks.

It was maybe a month later when something different happened. Rob had been having a bit of a dry spell with the ladies. I’d been going out of my way not to talk to him too much other than when I was taking care of his piles of dirty clothes, but the other guys had been riling him about it. He said he was taking a break from all that shit to clear his mind and he could turn it back on whenever he wanted. I, for one, had no reason to doubt him.

My fascination with blowing guys had only been increasing over time and given my lack of experience I’d even begun to research techniques to maximize enjoyment. The bottom line, it seemed, was enthusiasm. The guy likes a blowjob most when the cocksucker is truly getting off on worshipping his shaft and there’s no sign of reluctance. I had little doubt I could deliver in that respect.

Also of significant interest to me was swallowing. I knew this was important because there were many women who wouldn’t do it. But I realized it to be an essential component of a complete blowjob: letting a man finish in your mouth and taking his seed down your throat. I’d heard the guys talk about it, and it was pretty much a defining characteristic between a girl they considered uniquely slutty and one who was just down to hook up.

For me there was no question, I’d resolved myself to let the guy cum in my mouth. The idea was super hot to me. And the cock I thought about most belonged to the very guy who’d spent much of the time I’d known him tormenting me, to Rob.

The Sunday when things started to change, began as they always had, with me darting over to Rob’s room, him on his bed or at his computer, largely ignoring me, and me on my hands and knees gathering his clothes to put in the washer. He rarely bothered with small talk, but on this Sunday, he leaned up from his phone and started talking.

“You know, I don’t really think I’m getting enough out of this deal.”

“What do you mean?” I said. On the one hand I was nervous about what more he could possibly want, but on the other hand I eagerly anticipated whatever it was he might request.

“Yeah, I mean, I got a pretty big secret on what a flaming pussy you are, and you’re in here only doing my laundry.”

“Yeah, but … what else could you want me to do?”

He paused a moment as I looked at him.

“You know what, you should really be cleaning my bathroom,” he replied. “Yeah, I got some Windex and shit under the sink. So go ahead and scrub the tub and toilet.”

I was flummoxed for a moment. In that moment, I’d mentally prepared myself to satisfy him orally, and had felt a rush through my body at the thought of it, only to be disappointed. But, at the same time, I knew there was no refusing him and gained a certain level of erotic pleasure knowing I’d be cleaning a space so intimate to him.

After I’d finished putting his clothes to wash, I started cleaning his bathroom. I scrubbed his sink, and wiped down his mirror, both had a good deal of gunk on them, as being a typical college student he didn’t clean his bathroom that often. Then I wiped the yellow dots of urine off the rim and sides of his toilet. The hardest work came with scrubbing the tub, and while a part of it did feel sexy as I was on all fours wearing clothing that wedged into my nether regions, Rob was nowhere around. My own dick had softened to near nothing when I was almost done. But as I was nearly finishing the job, Rob entered the bathroom.

Is he coming in to check on the job I’m doing? I wondered. On this particular day, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, leaving his pecks and only slight paunch exposed. He was in shape, but he liked to drink, so his stomach wasn’t what anyone would call shredded, though he had enough strength to easily overpower me. I looked up at him, as I was crouched with my arms in the tub and my knees on a bath mat outside of it, clearly in a vulnerable position, but not necessarily one I was reluctant to be caught in.

He only glanced at me and then stood in front of the toilet, pulling down the waistband of athletic shorts and underwear to reveal his cock, which dangled thickly from his triangle of curly pubic hairs. I’d never seen another man’s penis so close; less than two feet from my face and while I was on my knees no less. I couldn’t look away as the golden shimmering stream flowed başakşehir escort from his hose. Clearly, I was excited to be in his proximity, though again not in a way I had anticipated. And then as he was near finished, he loudly declared “Oops!” and intentionally directed the stream away from the water, so the last of it sprayed along the rim of the toilet and spilled onto the sides and the floor.

“Yeah, you’re going to need to clean that up,” he said, sliding his shorts back up. He then walked back over and leaned against the doorjamb, looking at me as if to gauge my reaction. I took just a moment to finish wiping up his tub and turned on a trickle of water to rinse my hands. I kneeled on the bathmat, wiping my hands on the shorts to soak off the excess water and then shuffled over toward the sink to grab some cleaning wipes to reclean the toilet.

“You know what, just take the shorts off while you do it,” he said as I turned back to the porcelain bowl.

For a second, I froze, not sure what exactly to do. I was wearing only the shorts, the black satin thong and a white T-shirt that had shrunk to the point it only reached the top of my pants. ‘He wants me to clean his fucking toilet wearing only this black thong,’ I thought.

“Come on bitch, do it,” he said, glaring at me intently. I stood up and faced him, he was taller than 6 feet and while he wasn’t fat, easily weighed more than 200 pounds. I was closer to average at about 5-1/2 feet, but was thin and, as I mentioned before, nowhere near as strong and athletic.

It was evident I was going to do whatever he said, especially with the manipulative power he held over me. I unbuttoned the shorts, they dropped to my ankles and I stepped out of them. Now only in the thong, it was impossible to hide my own member, which had begun to throb. Though at less than five inches erect it never was anything that gave me any self-assurance. Rob’s had appeared about as large when it was flaccid enough for him to piss through. Of course I knew that wasn’t a feature of mine that was going to impress Rob, considering his obvious enjoyment of women.

I adjusted the thong, pulling it higher on my hips, turned around and got on my knees to complete the task I’d been given. I gave a quick glance backward, to ensure Rob was still watching. He was; he even slid his hand into his shorts to adjust himself, a fact that encouraged me I was doing something right. Then I wiped up his piss and once he saw I was done, he walked out of the bathroom.

I rinsed at his sink, being careful to leave it clean. At this point, my weekly chores were done and I was beginning to achingly wonder what kind of cue I might get from Rob. When I walked out of the bathroom, still only in the T-shirt and thong, I found him standing in the middle of his bedroom with his legs a little more than shoulder width apart, with one hand in his shorts massaging himself. I gazed at his chest, his nipples, and the hair on his belly . My eyes locked on his crotch and I almost unconsciously licked my lips.

“You know,” he said. “I haven’t had a blowjob in a couple weeks.”

“Uhhh ..” I replied.

“You ever had one?” he asked me.

“I mean, yeah, of course,” I lied.

“No, no, you’ve never had one. You’re pretty much a pussy when it comes to talking to girls.”

“I just want to get to know them.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. So, you wanna see my cock, right?”

Suddenly I realized he was standing in front of his large floor length mirror and if anyone happened to kneel in front of him, he’d have a pleasing view of all their angles.

“You’d let me see it?” I asked, walking toward him and getting on my knees, so my head was only inches from his waist. He took his hand out of his pants and put it on the back of my head, rustling the back of my hair.

“Go ahead,” he said and I reached up and slid his shorts and underwear down around his knees until they slipped and fell to his ankles. I helped him step out of them, then grabbed his briefs and held them up, smiling. It might have been the first time I’d relaxed in his presence.

“So you need me to wash these?” I joked.

“What do you think?” he said, pushing them into my face for a moment. “Nah, they’ll be fine until next week,” he said as he took them from my grasp and tossed them aside.

By now his cock was only half erect. It had grown thicker and longer but still dangled downward. I wanted to take him in my mouth but resisted the urge as I figured the rush would be greater for him when he had a full-on boner. I leaned forward to the side of his crotch, taking in the manly scent that emanated from him and began to kiss and lick up to the side of his pubic area. He kept his hand on the back of my head, not really guiding me but evidently approving my movements.

My hands had moved to his thighs, and as my lips swept across his lower belly, I reached around and cupped his bottom with my left hand and I grabbed his cock with my right, pumping it ever so gently. It was hot, thick and growing thicker, and much bigger than mine. I made my way down the other side of his crotch to where I was nearly licking his balls and stroking his stiffening member. I began licking the underside of his upper thigh and decided to go for it, taking his balls, one by one, into my mouth while stroking his cock, immersing myself into his spicy body odor.

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It has been a year since that night at the gym. A lot has changed in my life. In finished my courses and graduated. I have a full-time career job with a tax company. I don’t work at the gym anymore, but now I am a paying member. I still live in the same apartment, but now I have enough disposable income to afford my needs easily and save some extra along the way.

With school behind me and just work to fill my days, I find myself with free time on my hands. This is new to me and my evenings and weekends can get lonely. I am 23 now and I it’s time to think about dating. I have only been on a couple of dates in my life, each one with different girls. First dates only, never anything further. The last few years, there had been no time for a social life with full-time work and school.

Now that I have realized that I am gay, I am even more unsure of how to go about meeting someone. There are a couple of good looking guys at my gym. I know nothing about their personalities or their interests. How would I know if they’re open to being with another guy? I am at this new phase of my life but I am inexperienced and clueless.

I made a decision. I pulled out that phone number that I had hidden away a year ago. That number that I didn’t think I would ever call. I still thought about that night at the gym. Honestly, not a single day goes by without thinking about it. I didn’t think I’d ever call this number, but then again something made me hold on to it. Believe it or not I didn’t even know his name. He spent 3 hours that night performing personal acts on me, tickling me, violating me, humiliating me and giving me the most intense sexual release of my life. But I still don’t know his name.

I do know that he asked, practically begged me, to call him sometime. Why not now? I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me that night. In a strange way I kind of feel like he protected me from real harm. Between his bigger partner in crime and their angry boss, things could have gone very differently in a bad way. But he was there and things went his way. Now I found myself dialing his number.

In a gruff, hurried and irritated tone, he answered. I recognized his voice. What do I say? How do I address him? I felt like an idiot. I began, “Uh, hi. This… is uh…”

He cut me off, “I know who this is.” His tone immediately changes. Softened. “I was starting to think you’d never call.” I could hear the big smile on his face as he spoke.

“I…well…I think I want…” I stammered on.

“You want…”

“I want to see you.”

“I’d be glad to. I am free this weekend. That work for you?” he asked.

I said, “Yes.”

He said, “Where and when Little Dude?”

I knew he knew my name. He knew where I lived. He knew where I worked at the time. He and his cohorts had broken in to my apartment and searched every inch of it. But they never said my nameor each other’s . This one referred to me as “Little Dude” a few times. I responded, “How about Saturday at noon at the coffee shop next to the gym? You remember where the gym…?”

He cut in again, “I remember. I’ll be there.”

I said, “I don’t know your name.”

He chuckled, “My name is Dan. I will see you Saturday, Eric,” and he disconnected the call.

I suddenly felt a wave of fear. What have I done? What if I just re-started something that I would regret? What if this turned out to be dangerous? Torturous? What if I misread this guy, Dan? Was there a way out? Should I just not show up Saturday? No, he probably remembers where my apartment is. Should I call him back and tell him to forget it?

I spent the next few hours thinking, contemplating the situation. I decided that it was time for my life to begin. I had just come to realize a year ago that I am gay. I have now crossed a bridge from one part of my life to another. But I was stuck, just treading water. Not only was I clueless about how to even begin the process of meeting someone, but I also hadn’t even publicly come out as gay yet. I haven’t told my mom or my younger brothers. No one at work knew. Meeting up with Dan would help get me going. I won’t cancel or bail.

Just then my phone pinged – an incoming text. It wasn’t from one of my saved contacts, but I recognized the number from having dialed it earlier. Dan. The message read: “Do you still have those same beat up, smelly old sneakers from last year? Wear them on Saturday.”

I flushed with embarrassment at the memory. Now that I had some disposable income, I had in fact bought myself a long overdue new pair of sneakers. I had not, however, thrown out my old tattered pair. Of course I would do as he said and wear them.

Saturday came and I showed up early at the coffee shop. I hung out on the sidewalk until just before noon and then went in and took a booth. As I sat there waiting for Dan, I thought about what I really wanted to get out this unlikely reconnection. I know he isn’t likely to be a dating or relationship expert, full of advice and tips. I guess fatih escort I was hoping he could help me with the physical side of my emerging sexuality. I have never been with a man. I have zero experience. A little knowledge and skill would boost my confidence. And Dan would probably enjoy teaching me.

Just then, I saw him come through the door. He looked exactly the same. I had changed a little over the past year. With more time on my hands I was working out more, trading time on the treadmill for time with the weights. I hadn’t transformed into a bodybuilder or anything, but I had added a little toning to my previously little-boy figure. I am 5′ 10″ and just about 150 pounds. I recently added an inch to waist going from a 29 to a 30. Would Dan notice the changes? He found me and slid into the booth across from me.

“Little Dude,” he said.

“Hi Dan. You didn’t bring your big friend.”

“Were you hoping I would?” he asked.

“Actually, no. I only wanted you. I just wasn’t sure what to expect.”

The waitress came by and we ordered sandwiches and water. When she walked away, Dan explained, “Steve wouldn’t have been interested in whatever this is. That night last year work to him. He was doing his job…well maybe his job plus a little extra, but it was a job he was paid to do none the less. Whatever this thing now turns out to be, it’s not Steve’s thing.”

So his name is Steve. I said, “Okay, he sure seemed to be enjoying himself that night. At my expense.”

Dan said, “Sure. Work is usually not fun. That night was different. A break from the usual routine. Steve is not gay. My theory is that everyone has at least a little bisexual curiosity in them. You know, varying degrees for each person. Steve dipped a toe in that end of the pool that night. He had fun for a few hours, but he probably hasn’t given that night much thought since. Now me on the other hand? I think about that night every day.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Sure it does. Look, I am gay,” Dan continued. “But I find myself attracted to the occasional beautiful woman. Not everything has to have strict boundaries.”

I nodded. In fact from what I remember about my brief time with Dan, he is definitely not one to worry about boundaries.

He asked me, “So what brings us here? Why did you call and what can I do for you?”

The waitress brought our lunches. While we ate, I explained the crossroads my life seemed to be in. How even though I now know who I am, I don’t know what to do or how to proceed. That I have zero experience, and therefore, zero confidence. I told Dan I was hoping he would be willing to help out so I wouldn’t be a clueless idiot when an opportunity arose. I was trying to talk discreetly among the lunchtime crowd, but the couple at the table across from us seemed interest and amused by our conversation.

We finished eating and Dan suddenly got up, crossed to my side of the booth and slid in next to me. He leaned in and said confidentially, “Helping you out with your problem would be my pleasure, literally. Shall we go back to your place and let the lessons begin?”

“O – okay.” I figured there was a chance that Dan would agree and that we would start right away, but I wasn’t sure if, when or how it would happen. But Dan is nothing if not decisive. Now I was getting a little nervous.

He said to me, “Before we go, there’s something you need to show me. I’ve sat here patiently with you for 45 minutes now. You have continued to hide from me what I have been dreaming about seeing again for a year now. Show me the cutest belly button on the planet.”

I reddened a little. “Here? In the coffee shop? How about back at my place?”

Again, Dan had made up his mind. “I need a glimpse to tide over. Just a quick flash and we can go.”

I knew there was no point in further debate. I twisted on the seat toward him, arched my back a little to stretch out the creases and folds from sitting and lifted my shirt. A smile spread across Dan’s face as he took in the sight for the 3 or so seconds I allowed. He commented, “The extra few pounds you’ve put are nicely distributed. I approve and I can’t wait to see more.”

He had only ever seen me the one time and that was for just 3 hours and it was a year ago. Yet still he noticed a difference. Then I remembered that he had been taking photos and video throughout the evening at the gym. He already admitted that he thought about that night every day. He probably saved and viewed those recordings.

I put my shirt back down and noticed the couple across the aisle was enjoying the display as well. Dan said, “Let’s roll.” We got up and as passed the couple, Dan said, “Show’s over folks. Hope you enjoyed it.”

To this point I have spent not more than 4 hours of my life with this man, and yet somehow he has caused me to blush in embarrassment from something he did or said more than anyone else I have ever known. As we crossed the street to my apartment, he led güngören escort the way. Of course he remembered my building and exactly which apartment was mine.

I unlocked my door and stepped inside. Dan followed closely and closed the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and hugged me. His hands found their way under my shirt and he explored my chest and abdomen like a blind man. I sprung goosebumps all over. He spun me around to face him and, without warning, kissed me. His tongue parted my lips, swirled around in my mouth and rubbed against my own tongue. I had never been kissed by another man before and the sensation was amazing. In response I felt a surge in my pants.

We went to the couch and sat. He reached down, grabbed ahold of my left ankle and pulled my foot onto his lap. Seemingly beginning the lessons he said to me, “One thing I like to do is take charge. Be surprising. Don’t just think about doing something. Make it happen.” While he was talking, he removed my shoe and began to rub my foot. He continued, “Foreplay is important. If I remember correctly, stamina is something you need to improve. Foreplay helps.”

I flushed again remembering the humiliation of that night a year ago. He continued to massage my foot. He was not tickling me, like last year. He was making me feel good. I asked him, “Why did you want me to wear the same sneakers?”

He replied, “Your scent was pleasant surprise. When we searched your apartment that night, there was no discernable smell to the shoes we found there. Later when we searched you, these old things were pungent. I know I kidded you about it then, but I liked that ripe, musty scent coming off of your big feet.”

My feet are the only thing about me that is bigger than him. I am an 11 and I think Dan is a little jealous. As we sat on the couch now with one shoe off, I caught a slight whiff of that scent. I don’t get it, but just then he cupped my socked foot by the heel in his palm, raised me up a little and buried his face into the arch, inhaling deeply. I twitched and giggled a little from the sensation. He exhaled inhaled and smiled in pleasure, like he just took a hit off some good weed. Dan pulled my other foot up, slipped off the second shoe and continued the foot rub. I relaxed some, put head back and closed my eyes.

After a few minutes he moved across the couch, hovered above me and kissed me again. This time it lasted longer, we were making out. I was kissing him back, my tongue as active as his. This went on for 20 minutes and he began kissing down my neck. I again sprung goosebumps and he started unbuttoning my shirt. His warm, wet mouth worked its way down my chest and eventually to my navel. He lavished some extra attention there and then he unbuttoned my jeans.

Trying to be a good student I pushed my inhibitions aside and began undoing his pants. We wrestled with each other’s zippers and eventually wormed our way out. He pulled his shirt off in one neat, fluid motion and I ogled his chiseled, lean body. Wow. He couldn’t have had more that 1% body fat. His belly button was an innie too, but not nearly as deep as mine. How could it be with no padding around it? We both had formed tents in our underwear from our erections and quickly discarded those as well.

Now we were both completely naked. This was his second time seeing me naked, but my first seeing him. He was like a Greek god. We knew from last year (they measured me) that I sported a 5.5 inch erect penis. Dan was at least 7 inches. An inch and a half doesn’t actually sound like that much of a difference, but it was much thicker too. Side by side the comparison was comical. I stared in fascination.

He reached out and took my modest member in his hand. I gasped and flinched at the shock of the touch. I reached out and took ahold of him. He barely reacted, though I could feel it pulsating in my hand. We each started stroking and I couldn’t believe this was happening.

Dan told me that we would take turns and he instructed me to lie down. I let go of his throbbing cock and did what I was told. Dan knelt between my legs and began pulling and rubbing on me. He told me to last as long I could. I still had little experience in this arena and I was already feeling close. He worked me like he was kneading pizza dough, his rough manly hands pulling and twisting on my sensitive, virgin shaft. He moved his left hand down to my balls and began to lightly scratch at them. The combination of the two sensations proved to be too much for me and I spurt out my load.

In the end, I lasted more than the 60 seconds I managed last year in the gym, but I still only made it to 2 minutes. Dan said, “We are going to have to work on that. Practice makes perfect.” He wasn’t humiliating me this time around. He was being kind and helpful. My teacher. I used tissues to wipe up my mess.

Dan said, “In addition to learning how to be touched, you need to get comfortable handling your partner kadıköy escort as well.” Dan leaned back across the couch and said, “Give it a try.”

He had softened slightly during “my turn”, but I as I began to stroke him he quickly sprang back to full length. He told me, “Think about the most pleasurable parts of the penis. You have the same equipment. You know what feels good.” I started brushing across his mushroom cap at the top of my strokes. He was so big that I was using two hands. He was reacting to the attention I was paying to his sensitive tip.

I still couldn’t believe this was happening. I’d only fantasized about an encounter like this. Now I was living it. After a few more minutes, I used one hand to fondle his balls. He seemed to react positively. With the other hand I gripped the higher half of his shaft and began to massage concentric circles into the sensitive underside just below the head. It took a long time, but in concert with the fondling of his scrotum, those circles got him. His load was bigger than mine and a little got on the couch. He lasted a full 30 minutes. He said to me, “Not bad. As it went on you made some smart adjustments. My endurance time is something you can aspire to.”

We took a break on the couch. I offered him something to eat or drink. We each settled for cold bottles of water. We began to casually chat. It was like we were becoming actual friends. We absentmindedly rubbed each other’s feet and calves while we talked. He asked me, “How often do you jerk off?” Again, blunt and direct.

I answered, “Before last year, not often at all, but since that night, almost every day.”

He followed up, “That’s good. What do you think about when you’re doing it and how long do your sessions last?”

Oh my god. I didn’t want to tell him that what turned me on the most was being humiliated and mocked by him and his friend about how small my penis was compared to their manly members. Instead I told a partial truth, “Basically I think about that night; the first time another man ever touched me and made me cum. As for how long, I guess it depends on my mood? I don’t know. I guess I do it until, you know…”

Dan said, “You need to use that time to work on building stamina. Do you know what edging is? Tease yourself. Get close to climax and back off. Try to last as long as you can. Over time you will last longer and longer.”

I’d never thought of it like that, but it sounded like good advice. I said to him, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go.”

“That night at the gym, which souvenir did you take?”

Now it was his turn to blush a little. He answered, “I have both of them.” He saw the confusion on my face and continued, “At first, I took your underwear and Steve took a sock. In the car afterwards, I stole the sock from him when he wasn’t paying attention. Like I said before, to him it was just going to something he did in the moment. It wasn’t going to mean anything to him. I am sure he never gave that sock a second thought and never even realized it was missing. For me, I’ll never forget that night. It was more than work to me.”

He seemed to almost get a little misty. He shook it off and announced, “Break’s over. You’ve recovered from round 1. Let’s get back to it.” He lifted my left foot up and began to kiss it up and down the arch. It tickled but not in a tortuous way. He used his tongue all over the top and bottom before sucking each toe individually. Again, I was surprised by the sensation having never felt anything like it before. He moved on to my right foot and performed the same routine before working his way up my legs. He used both his mouth and his hands as he continued higher, past the knees, up the inner thighs. I was tingling and in anticipation, my cock was quickly stiffening.

As he reached his target he surprised me again. He took my entire sack into his mouth. Another first experience me. He sucked my balls and I moaned in pleasure. He was skilled. He knew what he was doing. It would have been easy to have been too rough and turn pleasure into pain, but that didn’t happen. I was taking mental notes and learning from his technique.

After an appropriate amount of time, he assessed my awaiting shaft. At the tip I was moist with precum. He parted his lips and took me in. I threw my head back and gasped involuntarily. It was wet, warm and wonderful. He swallowed my whole length with his lips wrapping around my base. His magical moving tongue was massaging my underside and it was almost too much. He realized I was close again and he eased up. He teased me by sliding his mouth on and off. Then he switched gears and began sucking hard. Another new sensation for me and I lasted only a few more seconds before he sucked down my seed. He reduced the suction but kept at it until I was spent and my convulsions had ceased. I lasted a little longer than earlier, but not by much.

I laid there like a wet rag. It was pure ecstasy, but I was drained. Literally. After catching my breath I understood what the next part of the lesson would be. I had received and now it was time to give. This part was as important as the first part. I wouldn’t want the future me to reach this point and, in that moment, fail or chicken out. I needed this experience. I needed to learn how to give pleasure.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

PART I: BAD BOYS GET PUNISHED

“Close the door behind you,” he said. He looked like he could have been a fireman in his younger days. That’s because he was large with a big body frame. Perhaps he had been in-shape at one point but now he was a decidedly heavyset man. Because firemen, when they reach a certain age and become fire chiefs and sit behind desks instead of running into burning buildings, well, they tend to let themselves go. And they all have mustaches. And this man, he was a large, overweight man with a mustache. But he never had been a fireman. He had been a teacher. And now he was a principal.

Peter closed the door behind him.

“Sit down,” the gray mustached man, Principal Kelly, instructed.

Peter sat down. Earlier in the day, Peter had pummeled two kids senseless in the boy’s bathroom. He stuck one of their heads in the toilet and flushed it. Peter was known for being the type not to mess with, partly because of his age, mostly because of his attitude. He was a real badass.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Peter stared at the burly man on the other side of the desk and said nothing. Then he stretched his jeaned legs forward, crossed them, turned his head to the side and rolled his eyes; the type of move a James Dean might pull were he caught up in the same circumstances.

“You don’t want to tell me? That’s okay. I already know. Nurse Steiner is in the other room bandaging up one of the boys you attacked.”

“Had it comin’,” Peter mumbled.

“I’m sure he did, I’m sure he did.” Mr. Kelly’s tone thus far was not what Peter had expected. Not strict. Not stern. Somewhat bemused. Perhaps a bit condescending.

“You do realize that because of your age… those boy’s parents have a right to go to the police? I’ll bet you hadn’t thought of that.”

Peter hadn’t thought of that.

“Up until today it was just graffiti, talking back to teachers… but now you’ve got yourself in a real pickle. Oh my, yes you have, Peter. You might be facing assault charges. And that doesn’t mean detention, or a light vacation in juvie. No, Peter. Not at your age. At your age, if convicted, that means prison time. And do you know what happens to young, skinny men like you in prison?”

Peter un-stretched his jeaned legs and pulled them back to a regular sitting stance. Principal Kelly had gotten his attention.

“Peter… you’re 19-years-old. You should have graduated two years ago. Now you’re an adult in a child’s world pretending to still be a child. But you’ve gone too far this time. You’ve seriously hurt those boys. And there are consequences for this type of destructive behavior.”

There was still something off about his voice. There was a lilt to it, and Peter couldn’t understand why, unless the old coot was just so happy to finally be able to get rid of him.

“Now… this is the important part, Peter. Peter: the perennial high schooler. I can either call up the boys’ parents and let them know that you will be dealt with, sternly. Let them know that there will be serious repercussions for your actions. Assure them that I will personally handle the matter. And maybe, just maybe, that will satisfy them and they won’t feel the need to reach out to involve any type of law enforcement agencies.

Or… I can not make that call. And you can end up as prison meat.”

He left it at that. He left it floating. He wasn’t out and out grinning, but the far edges of his mouth were slightly curled upward. Peter stared forward in bewilderment, knowing full well there was something here that wasn’t added up. Mr. Kelly sat, pleasant expression, hands folded and resting on his desk. Peter continued to stare at him. It was almost now as if they were playing a game of chicken… neither one breaking the silence. It was a power play. Finally, Peter gave in.

“I don’t understand. You’re going to call them and tell them not to call the cops on me? Not to press charges?”

“That’s right,” said a slightly smug Principal Kelly, taking satisfaction in winning the war of silence.

Peter studied the floor, a moment of reflection, and then looked up. “But why is that? I mean, what are the serious repercussions?”

“Peter… for too long you’ve strutted through these hallowed halls like you own the place. Like you were some sort of alpha male, top dog. A hoodlum king. This isn’t a back alley though Peter, this is a place of education. All of your outrageous posturing and backtalk has caused so many disruptions… I get complaints from teachers about you daily. Quite frankly, your attitude has to change. And I,” Kelly smiled, “I happen to be an attitude adjuster.”

Peter wondered what he meant.

“You see, in the case of minor infractions like missing homeworks, too many tardy slips, a day or two of playing hooky, writing on bathroom stalls… well, detentions were in order. Notes home to your parents. Conferences with social workers. But this latest outburst… oh my. We’re way past all that. This, this calls for something a bit more drastic.”

“Like çekmeköy escort what?”

“Like what? Like a good old fashioned spanking, Peter. Like the kind your father should have been giving you all along.” Peter had no father. At least, not one he had ever known. “You need to be put over someone’s knee and spanked like the petulant child you are.”

“No way. You can’t be serious.”

“For the past several years you’ve insulted us… your educators. Your teachers, your guidance counselors, your principals, the nurses here, Ms. May, my secretary… you’ve given us all lip. You’ve gone out of your way to be defiant. To be snide and rude and crude. But now the tide has turned. You’re past your prime Peter. You’ve been retained twice, and we’re at the midway point of this school year and your grades are still just as low as they’ve ever been. At this rate you will never receive a high school diploma unless I pull the strings to make it so. And if you don’t get a high school diploma, never mind not going to college… you can say goodbye to ever holding down a decent job in any capacity anywhere in town. Which means no money, no family. Which means a shopping cart full of your belongings and wearing piss stained pants while you waste away on the side of the road begging for pennies and hot dog buns. Basically, the quality of the entire rest of your life lies in my hands, Peter. Let that sink in.”

Peter let it sink in. He imagined himself shuffling around the neighborhood, the town derelict, the Hoodie of the next generation. Hoodie was the obese homeless man who hung down at the train station. Peter had spent many an afternoon throwing empty soda cans at Hoodie, laughing as Hoodie mumbled loudly and incoherently in response to the torment.

“So what’s it going to be, Peter? Possible prison sentence followed by a wasted, aimless life? Or one final shot at making something of yourself? A or B? Spanking or no spanking?”

A moment passed. Principal Kelly finally had him right where he wanted him. Peter’s head lowered. “The spanking, sir,” he mumbled.

“Speak up, boy. And you look me in the eye when you speak to me.”

Peter looked up. “The spanking, Sir.”

Principal Kelly moved for the first time since Peter stepped in. He pushed back in his chair, creating a wealth of space between his knees and his desk.

“Come here to me.”

Peter walked around to the other side of the desk. And stood in front of his principal, the man who had been his principal ever since he was five years old. Mr. Kelly undid Peter’s belt buckle. He unzipped Peter’s pants. Peter stood somewhat frozen. Mr. Kelly slid the denim jeans down past Peter’s bottom, down over Peter’s legs and let them drop around the teen’s ankles. He then did the same to Peter’s boxer briefs, revealing Peter’s round, lily-white backside. Baby plump. Peter simultaneously felt shame and a cool breeze.

Principal Kelly took pleasure in not physically forcing anything upon Peter… but in giving him choices. Choices that soon turned to orders. And he reveled in Peter having to follow them.

“Now… over my knees,” he instructed calmly.

Peter took a deep breath and then bent down, slowly and quietly, still having a hard time believing that this was actually happening to him. It all seemed so surreal. Like it was happening in slow motion. Principal Kelly stared down at the perfectly positioned buttocks now in his lap and grinned. A blank canvas. He had waited for this moment… to teach this punk boy a lesson, this boy who had been the thorn in the side of every teacher of the school for much, much too long. He was going to teach this boy. Going to mold him. He was going to make a fine, fine student of him, and then some. He raised his hand high in the air, and then, he brought it down with an forceful surge of momentum.

Peter felt the warm slap on his bottom. His eyes widened. It was the first spank he had ever gotten. And then… the rest followed. One after the other. Big fat smacks from the big, flat strong hand of his superior elder. SMACK. Three seconds. SMACK. Three seconds. SMACK three seconds. Just enough time in between each smack for Peter to really grasp what was happening. He was able to vote, able to go to war and die for his country, able to purchase cigars an pornography, able to rent his own apartment, able to hold a job, able to get married if he should want… but instead, he was still in school… and he was lying over his principal’s lap with his pants and undies down around his ankles getting spanked for being a bad boy. He started to tear up.

Principal Kelly heard Peter’s first sniffle. “You go ahead and cry if you have to. Cry like a little boy,” SMACK, “Because this is what you need for you to understand your situation, Peter.” Peter did start to cry. It wasn’t the pain, although the heavy swats did sting… it was the realization of what he was doing with his life… absolutely nothing. And then he felt his penis getting hard.

SMACK. “Oh wow, now what do I feel here, çeşme escort Peter? Something getting hard pressing up against my leg?” SMACK. “Maybe I should tell your mother about what happened to your penis when I punished you?” Peter’s face turned very red as the tears continued to stream down his cheeks… redness from crying mixed with the redness of embarrassment… his face now the same color that his backside had slowly been turning.

SMACK.

The smacks continued as Peter squirmed. Principal Kelly would squeeze and hold him tight with his other arm… hold him tightly in position. Principal Kelly could feel the boy’s little hard cock rubbing into his lap as he fruitlessly squirmed and tried to escape.

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.

He began picking up the pace, spanking faster, harder… Stopping only every so often as to give the weeping brat a small breather. During those “breathers,” no words were spoken. The lad lay quivering over his knee, weeping, and Kelly’s hand rested on his warm right butt cheek until he was ready to smack that naughty ass again.

And he did. He spanked it nice and hard, his beefy flat hand crashing down on the boy’s smooth plump butt over and over again, the loud spanks echoing throughout the room, harder and harder. 10-minutes went by, this time, no breathers. Continuous spanking, and with each passing minute, the force behind the spanks increased… harder, and harder, and harder, until Peter’s ass was red hot and glowing, leaving Peter unsure of just how much more he could even take.

And then, the spanking abruptly stopped.

Finally. He’s finished, thought Peter, who was breathing heavily.

Principal Kelly calmly reached over the top of the teen’s back and picked up the phone receiver from atop his desk. He hit one button on the phone’s keypad and raised the receiver to his ear/mouth. A quick moment passed.

“Ms. May? Yes. Will you please bring me my paddle?”

Peter’s face trembled with disbelief.

“Thank you.” Kelly hung up the phone. He placed his hand back to rest on Peter’s hot cheek. He patted it ever so slightly and lightly as they waited in silence… like the tender tapping of a baseball player’s hand on his teammate’s bum meant to congratulate him on a successful bunt.

The door opened and Peter was mortified, slumped over his Principal’s lap, his bare bottom exposed, now a deep shade of red. For some reason his cock hardened even further, which further embarrassed him, which further hardened the cock, which further embarrassed him. A vicious cycle.

Ms. May, Mr. Kelly’s secretary, entered the room. A woman of 65-years of age, wearing a bun, wrinkled face… she had worked at the school for a forever and had also known Peter since he was five. And they had had their share of run-ins. Peter had mouthed off to her plenty of times while he sat and waited outside of Kelly’s office.

She sashayed over to her boss, slowly, her hips swaying and the clip-clop of her high heels the only sound in the room. In her hands was the thick oak paddle. She presented it to Principal Kelly. He took it from her. “Thank you, Ms. May.” Peter tried not to look, tried to keep his head down, his face glued to the floor, but it was almost outside of his control. As he heard the clip-clopping of the heels leaving the room, he glanced up ever so quickly. His eyes immediately made contact with hers. She had been staring right at him, her neck twisted backwards as she walked towards the door… a thick lipstick-ed smirk on her face. Peter’s head shot back down in embarrassment. She closed the door behind her.

WHACK!

No warning. Peter’s head jerked back up, his eyelids clenched tight, and his face twisted in surprised agony. He let out a loud, pained yelp.

He heard a chuckle from the other side of the door… Ms. May.

WHACK, WHACK!

Peter never thought he would be wishing for his principal’s hand to be slapping his butt, but now, as the sting of the thick paddle came crashing down against his tenderized cheeks, he began to beg for it.

“Please, please, please use the hand.”

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK.

Tears again, harder than before, streaming down his beat red face. This time, not embarrassed tears, but tears born of a deep physical pain.

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK!

The boy cried out again. He was no longer to shy to speak out. The paddle had cured him of that. “No! Pleaaasee, no, Sir! Please no, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please stop!” But the principal didn’t stop. The principal just paddled harder. He paddled until he bruised the round, cushy flesh of the boy’s bottom, until he tore into it, and until the wiggling, squirming boy was drenched in sweat and nearly screaming, “please sir, please sir, please!”

“Are you a bad boy?” asked his principal, WHACK, WHACK!

“YES! Yes, I’m a bad boy!”

“A naughty little boy?” WHACK, WHACK.

“Yes! Yes, I’m a naughty little boy.”

“Are you going to stop cihangir escort fighting?” WHACK.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to stop talking back to your teachers?” WHACK, WHACK, WHACK!

“YES!! Yes, yes, I’m going to stop fighting and I’m going to stop talking back to all of my teachers, I promise. I’ll do anything you want from now on, anything. I’ll be a good boy, a very good boy and I’ll never be bad again, I promise, I promise, I promise,” he managed to yelp through heavy tears.

Principal Kelly places the oak paddle down on the desk with a thud, and Peter’s body finally relaxed in a near collapse. All of his energy disappeared and he was now left a crying lump of flesh slumped over his masculine principal’s knee. Principal Kelly sat there and let the boy cry for several minutes. The two longtime adversaries now closer than ever. Peter had a strange urge to suck his own thumb as he had when he was but a boy.

When Peter’s cries had finally dissipated into mere little sniffles, his principal spoke to him yet again. “And now I want you to stand up, you little crying boy,” said Principal Kelly sternly, with authority. Peter stood. It was the first time he had sounded legitimately mad during this whole ordeal. Almost as if he was disgusted with the sad display of a creature before him. “Look at you. You used to be so tough. Look at you now. Crying your eyes out and begging me. Standing there with your pants around your ankles and a bright red backside. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Peter rubbed his stinging, hot cheeks slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he may have actually meant it.

“I’ll bet you are.”

The two stared into each other’s eyes, Peter’s swollen, red and tearing, Kelly’s stern, cold and unforgiving.

“Peter the Queer,” said Principal Kelly.

“Wh-what?”

Hearing that was a shock, and just his being shocked was a shock in it of itself for Peter had thought he was beyond the point of ever being shocked again. Those words slapped him hard in the face. Could he possibly have heard him correctly? That phrase… those words in that order… he hadn’t heard that since-

“Peter the Queer. Isn’t that what they used to call you?”

It was.

And it all came flooding back. The bigger boys circling him in the playground, chanting it. The giggling girls whispering it into his ear from the desks behind him. All the times he would find it written in black sharpie marker on his notebooks or locker. Peter the Queer.

He didn’t think Principal Kelly would have remembered that. He didn’t think anyone would have. So much time had gone by since he had been Peter the Queer. And he had reinvented himself. He remembered the day, much like when a young Bruce Wayne declared, “from this day forward I will pledge my life to crime-fighting, I will be… BATMAN,” the day where he had said, “that’s it. I’m done being picked on, done being called a sissy. From this day forward, I will never be called Peter the Queer again!” Lightning strike.

The following day, instead of pleading, “stop it, stop it,” to the other boys as they circled around him in the schoolyard chanting that dreadful moniker, he mauled one of them and bit off a part of his nose. A few more instances like that, and the boys finally stopped calling him it. He even slapped a girl once who didn’t get the memo that Peter the Queer was dead. Slapped her right across her stupid cunt face as soon as the last syllable had left her mouth. She never said it again either. A few years later, in 5th grade, he took up smoking. By seventh grade he was a leather-jacket wearing smartass who had been left back once. Being left back was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Most kids never want to repeat a grade, but now he was the oldest. He was top dog. All the kids who had ever called him… that name… were gone from his classes. He could forge a 100 percent new identity for himself. By the time he hit the high school grades, he had been left back once more and he was a completely different person than he had been all those years ago. At least he thought he was.

“Are you, Peter?”

Peter was stunned and didn’t know what the question meant.

“Am I- am I… what?”

“Are you a queer?”

His face turned a crimson red. He couldn’t believe that his principal remembered. And now, couldn’t believe that his principal was using it against him.

“Peter, I’m married. I have a wife and kids of my own. I’m a real man, there’s no doubt about that. You’ll never find me getting an erection while another man spanks me. Because I would never let another man do to me what I just did to you. We’re different people, you and I. I’m a successful principal in charge of a school and a loving, responsible family man. You on the other hand, you’re a little snot-nosed punk who had to be taught to respect. And I can tell by your hard little penis staring me in the face that even though I hurt you, you liked it… you liked being controlled… and being half naked around another man. So, I’m going to give you another choice.

We’re going to continue to have these spanking sessions until I make sure you get on the right track. No discussion there. Now here comes the choice part. Whether I use just my hand, or the paddle,” just hearing the word paddle made Peter wince, “is entirely up to you.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Smack! The surprise blow landed across the right side of my face just as I opened the door. Immensely stinging, right away I closed my hand over the exact spot that had just been hit. Finding the nearest wall behind me I slid down it and sat on the wooden floor, now painted black with the darkness of the moonlight.

Tears immediately welled up in my eyes. I wanted to scream. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I didn’t even know who had hit me. A voice broke the tearful silence and spoke sadly while trying to hold and comfort me.

“Hunter, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Dark brown eyes came into focus, along with perfectly coifed brown hair. It was Charlie, my ex-boyfriend. Who had been labeled an ‘ex’ as of noon that same day.

“Get off me! Why are you here!” I let out in a sort of shriek.

“But, I didn’t mean t- I was just mad! You know what? Never mind. Fuck you! You deserved it,” Charlie spat to me.

Tears began flowing in bountiful masses from my eyes and down my cheeks just before he spoke once again.

“You’ve been acting like such a little bitch to be honest. And, little do you know, I had a new little twink sucking on this pipe, cause you didn’t want to.” Charlie said while grabbing his crotch obscenely.

“Go away, just go… Please.” I asked him slowly.

“I’ll go when I’m good and ready.”

A second voice came along clear as day, interrupting this anger filled, one-sided maltepe escort conversation.

“Which should be right now.”

I looked up to see the face of my neighbor, the godly recluse from 3C who moved in a couple months ago, he looked confused at the scene unfolding before him and then suddenly stone-faced and looking hard at Charlie.

“Who the fuck are you, man?! Mind your business.” Charlie spoke with look of disdain crossing his face.

“I’m Hunters neighbor, and his friend. And I think it’s time for you to get your ass off of this property.”

“Nobody asked you for thoughts, fuck-face.”

Charlie threw a hand over his shoulder as if to shoo the Neighbor-god away. But just as his hand came across the front of the neighbor, it was like Neighbor-god had cat like reflexes.

He grabbed Charlie’s hand, turning it full circle so that it was underneath Charlie’s back. Holding Charlie’s arm in this position he pulled him into the hall between both apartments and slammed his face against the door of the apartment across the hall. Leaning in real close he said barely audible.

“Look here, piece of shit. Don’t you come back here messin’ with this kid, or I’ll hunt you down. You got it?” He told Charlie, basically screaming the last part into his ear.

His voice thick with some type of southern accent. It was so new, in all my 19 years of life had I been turned on by manavgat escort a southern accent. But here I was feeling the all-familiar tingle in my groin. After some time, Charlie remained silent. Neighbor god spoke again.

“And I’m willing to bet I could get your address from Hunter here.” He finished with a smirk on his face.

This moment was a new type of moment because knowing Charlie, I knew he didn’t want to give up this fight but in this position. And with his arm mobility becoming a chance of luck, he had no choice.

From my angle I could see that this randomly reclusive hero could’ve easily broken this abusive boyfriends arm, but maybe that’s what charlie needed. A lesson in manners and how to treat people.

I sat there quietly, tears still streaming down my face, but I didn’t sob I just cried and watched as my neighbor came to my rescue while letting my mind flutter back to the thoughts of:

‘What if this guy wouldn’t have been passing through the hall? What if he hadn’t been here at all? What would’ve happened? Could Charlie really have been capable of serious damage?’

I was brought out my state of overanalyzing when I heard Charlie’s voice speak in a pained tone saying

“Alright man, fuck. I’ll go!”

He was let go without a moment’s notice and dropped to the floor still clutching his hurt arm in his lap. He lifted off of his knees and shook it off. marmaris escort While dusting his leather jacket for imaginary dirt, he looked at me like I was nothing and spat

“We’re done. Bitch.” Before leaving a second later.

I just sat there staring at the ground in front of my shoes until his voice broke my hurt-induced trance, he came down onto a knee to look directly into my eyes. I felt captured immediately.

This man was gorgeous & masculine. A lovely new distraction. Yup, that’s what he was, a distraction. One of the purest kinds. One without pain, a beautiful one with bright blonde hair and slight curls that framed his face. a left dimple and a small beauty mark right below his right cheek. He has shockingly blue eyes, not dark blue, but light almost turquoise.

Looking into his face made me feel like a helicopter approaching a deserted island complete with nothing but clear waters and palm tree canopies filled with birds singing summer songs. Laying on the beach underneath his muscular frame as his cock finds my most sensitive spot and slides inside me. Scratching at his broad shoulders as the pain subsides. He looks at me with caring eyes.

“Are you alright hunt?”

I nodded a slow yes, trying to bring myself away from staring. Slowly, clothes start to reappear and we’re no longer on the beach… just my apartment.

“Who was that? …a friend? your drug dealer?”

He spoke slowly on the last part not knowing whether he should cross the line.

I simply nodded

He looked at me shocked

“Well no, I don’t do drugs.”

I took one long look at his beautifully constructed face before clearing my throat and continuing.

“He was my boyfriend.”

To be continued.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

This story is dedicated to all the real Super Heroes of our time – The Service men and women of our Armed Forces and First Responders.

This story is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental, and no harm or slanderous intent is implied or intentional.

I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments or ideas that may inspire new work, please feel free to contact me – all E-mails will be answered to the best of my ability.

Please send a donation to the site you are reading this on. Money is needed to keep this site “Up and Running”.

End of Chapter 35

“Good! I was wondering when the truth would come out,” Jesse smiled back at him and leaned in and kissed his lips.

“And they say we Arabs are blood thirsty…”

“Well, I am my father’s son and you Arabs have trained me…”

Chapter 36

Monday, after returning to the city and on a secure phone, Rashid again called the Caliph trying to set up a meeting between him and Jesse.

“Look, I am going to permit Jesse to marry my niece! What more proof would you want than that? Do you think I would allow someone that was not committed to Allah and Islam to even touch her?”

“We are well aware of your feelings for her as well as Yethro’s feelings for him. Yethro has already reported that he is happy with the match and certain of his son’s commitment to Allah. He also reported the hefty bridal price he was forced to pay you. He says you drive a hard bargain. We are proud of you. There are few people who can say that they took that crafty old Bedouin to the cleaners, as the Americans say.”

“Well, Jesse is a “good catch’. He is on his way to both the Governorship of the state and later, when he is old enough; He will run and win the Presidency of the country. When he takes that office, he will replace this constitutional law with Sharia law and establish the western branch of the Caliphate. As his Uncle-in-law, I will be able to keep a close eye on him. He relies on me now for advice and will continue to do so in the future even more.”

“I thought Yethro was his ‘controller’.”

“Actually, no one is his controller. Both Yethro and I talk to him and offer suggestions and he follows most of our suggestions and recommendations.” Rashid said. “He has been learning Islamic religion and law and attends Mosque and classes every Friday. The Imam is very impressed with him and loves to debate points of law with him. He is trying to learn Arabic, but finds that difficult. He even comes up with ideas that are interesting.”

“Hmmmmmmm! That could be dangerous! We would rather have someone who is committed to us and will follow the orders sent out by the Caliphate.”

“If that is what you were hopping for, you can forget about ever establishing an American Caliphate up here. If there is one thing that Yethro was right about, it was that the United States would never welcome Allah or the Caliphate blindly. In fact, they will never accept any law except their own constitutional law. He has told you this over and over. You and I never believed him and that is the one overwhelming reason you sent me here. Well, I have been here for a while now and the longer I study the situation, the more I come to the conclusion that Yethro was right. America is different! The old methods will not work here. If we are to extend our Caliphate here, it will have to be done by an entirely new method. It must be done ‘The American Way’. We must allow them to set up their own Caliphate and only later can we absorb it into our world Caliphate. Or better yet, maybe we can join in their Caliphate!”

“Watch yourself! You are treading on blasphemy and treason. If you are not careful… Well, do I have to remind you what will happen to you and your family?”

“You do not have to warn me of consequences! I know them only too well, but with all due respect, what I am telling you is the truth. You must accept this fact! If you do not want to believe it, that is your problem. That is the way it is and you had better face up to it or you will never have any kind of Caliphate here. You and I both know that the Caliphate must continue to expand. Without expansion, without the entire world under Islam, we will be lost. Even if one individual is left to exercise his own free will, we will have to admit that the infidel can be right. There is no alternative – expansion or death and the demise of our own Caliphate. Once that caliphate is established and running here in the United States, then we take over and absorb it into one grand Islamic World Caliphate.” Rashid almost shouted into the phone.

“Relax… don’t get so upset. Until now, our methods have worked in every other place; it is hard to believe that it will not work there. However I am willing to listen.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, for buca escort you, and at one time it was for me also. As much as I disliked Yethro, he is not only right but he has just about convinced the majority of State Governors in this country that there is a future for Islam here. And believe me that is no small accomplishment. Not only that, and the facts do bear this out, if he had been born here in the United States, he would be the run-a-way choice for the presidency today. And that would be without forceful methods.”

“Since when are you against the use of force?” the caller laughed. “You were always the one that was the first to draw your blade or gum.”

“Well I have since learned that while it is easy to cut the throat of an unarmed non believer or to put a bullet in the back of his head while his hands are bound behind him, it does not change his mind nor does it endear you to his relatives. And we must not only win over the people but their children as well. There are too many armed Americans to contend with. We must win the hearts and minds of these people. We must make them WANT to join with us. We cannot militarily defeat them and then expect them to lay down their weapons. They are full of incongruities. They profess to be a ‘Christian people’, yet they separate church and state. And they truly feel that this is good. We must convince them that Islam is the wave of the future and make them willing to cast off this Christian cloak that is strangling them. These people are all childish customers who, like Jesse, have entered our Middle Eastern Bazaar and have to be sold on Islam. We can sell it to them and we are doing just that.”

“I don’t know. It seems like ever one we send there is sort of corrupted by just living there.”

“Yes, it is a corrupting atmosphere, but neither Yethro nor I have been corrupted. We are just facing reality and trying to do the job we were sent to do,” Rashid explained. “If you don’t believe me, recall me and I’ll be glad to come home.”

“No, that will not be necessary. While I don’t agree with everything that you have said, perhaps you are right and, in fact, I think it just might be time for your Caliph to meet with this Jesse. Let us meet and see what you are all talking about. Yes, it is time. I will meet with him and see if I can observe what you and Yethro see in him. Perhaps, in addition to this, He and I can arrange the sort of formal alliance whereby he is bound to The Caliphate. That way, while we do trust both you and Yethro, we also will have formed a physical bond between us.”

Breathing a silent sigh of relief yet still cautious, he said. “Yes I’m sure once you meet him, you too, will recognize and see what we see in him. However, there is really no need for you to create a formal alliance with him. He is already bound to us by the payment of the “Bride Price’ for my niece, he is now part of my family both in blood and soul.”

“Yes, that may be true-for you, but not for the leadership of the Caliphate. Ronia and you are not of our blood and all the members of the Grand Council of Caliphates should be related by blood preferably. If not that, then by formal marriage or treaty.”

“Since when has this been the custom?” Rashid demanded to know.

“Idiot! What better way to insure the success than by blood? You know that has always been the case. It is written; the Caliph would have to come from the blood of the prophet. Unless your father, mother, or your sister’s husband are from that line, Jesse will have to marry into it before we will allow him to be a member.”

“Then all this is a fucking waste of time.”

“Not really, Yethro is of that line and while his adoption of Jesse has not been officially authorized as yet, we could get official recognition.”

“We have permitted non-converts to enter our community before. There have been many of them.” Rashid stated.

“Yes, we have, and most have been very helpful to us. And there is a chance we may do that with Jesse. It remains to be seen. Look, I admit that this is all very complicated. But these conditions and traditions must be met and respected,” his contact said. “However, in order to make sure that he is worthy, I would like to meet this young man. Who knows, if he lives up to what you say he is¬-maybe we can work something out. It has been known that the Compassionate and Merciful Caliphate has ways to resolve things of this nature,” he laughed.

“Good, I will arrange something and let you know. You do the same and let me know,” Rashid said and hung up. Damn, he thought, they always find ways to complicate things.

Meanwhile, on another secure phone, Jesse was talking to the President and telling him about Rashid’s plan to introduce him to the Caliph.

“Do you think that is such a good idea? It could be dangerous,” the President said. “I do not feel that we should move so fast.”

“Good idea or not, it has to happen sooner or later and I think sooner is better.”

“How çağlayan escort so?”

“If nothing happens, they are going to find others to carry out their program. Make no mistake about it! One way or the other there has been and will continue to be a concerted effort to take over our government. If not me, then they will use someone else. This way, I can make sure that we control the outcome.”

“You are right. It’s just that I have only a short time left in office and I wanted to see this settled once and for all!” The President said.

“So do I, but you can forget about a quick solution to this, This will go on and on for many years and there is not much we can do about it except to keep plugging away and hope something will happen that will tip the balance in our favor”, Jesse sighed. “I really hate to say this but I’m afraid that even if we ‘win’ this battle, we will find that we only won a small part of the war. There are billions of these nuts out there. While they might not all be crazy, the nuts do lead the sane ones and until the sane take over this will go on and on and on.”

“You are not very encouraging, but you are most likely right. Well keep me informed and thanks again!”

“I will do that, sir,” Jesse said and hung up.

During the week Jesse was called into Yethro’s office. As he sat down Yethro said, “I have a surprise for you. You can’t tell anyone about this. How would you like to go fishing in Lake Huron this weekend? Just the two of us. Friday we can stop by the lake and hitch up the old Chris-Craft Corsair and bring her up to Bay City, put her in the lake Friday evening and take her out Saturday morning for a day of real fishing. Have you ever been fishing on the big lake?”

“No. Is there anything different about it?”

“Not really. But the fish tend to be bigger and the water rougher. I think you will like it. In any event ¬¬¬- we will be able to get away from business for a few hours. We need some time to ourselves. And the State can take care of itself for a few days. Besides, Dan can run things for a while and just in case he needs me, there is always the cell phone plus the ship to shore radio. You know that you and I have not had a few hours off since I took this office and I think we deserve a break. What do you say?”

“That sounds wonderful. I was going to take Ronnie out but I guess I can always do that. I mean, how many chances do you and I get to be alone? You know, I was just wondering if you were getting tired of me or maybe you were playing around on the side.”

Yethro jumped up and grabbed Jesse by the arm, spun him around, forced him over the desk and swatted him on the ass. Then he ran his fingers around over his backside and whispered, “I will never get tired of you and this sweet arse of yours.” And after a few playful squeezes and rubs, he let him up.

Jesse laughed and playfully rubbed his ass, “Now that you have warmed it up, it seems a shame to let it cool down.”

“I agree but there isn’t any time for that now. Maybe you should take some Dramamine this weekend. I plan to pound the crap out of you and all that bouncing on the water is going to make you seasick. Oh! One other thing-don’t forget to bring your passport. We might stray into Canadian waters and while I’m well known, even I have to show my passport if they ask me to. Now get back to work while I make all the arrangements. Don’t tell anyone about this or we might have the National Enquirer for bedfellows.”

“If you are afraid of that, why not invite Rashid,” Jess joked. “That way he can keep an eye on me and report to his niece that we are really going fishing and not going to meet with any other women. She thinks I’m still fooling around with Phyllis and that way it will cool her down about our not going out this weekend.”

“You, my son, are acting like an American hen-pecked husband. You are my son and as such are of Bedouin stock. You do not have to explain your actions to a woman-least of all to one that is your wife.”

“I can’t help it, Yethro, I do care for her and don’t wish to see her hurt. She never asked to be dragged into this! She is so young and inexperienced in things of the world.”

“You hurt Phyllis and it did not phase you in the least. Don’t worry about Ronnie. Both she and Rashid are of good Arab stock and will do fine. You just enjoy yourself and get as much sex as you can. It will only help in the marriage bed. And give serious thought about your conversion. I would not want you to go right from the knife of circumcision to the marriage bed. It will take time for you to heal and the blood on the marriage bed must be hers – not yours.” Yethro chided him.

Wednesday, Rashid got a call from the Caliph. “Rashid, my friend, I have decided to meet with this Jesse of yours!”

“Great! I will be looking forward to seeing you again,” Rashid said.

“Unfortunately, you will not be there this time,” he said. “I have talked to Yethro the other çankaya escort day and we decided to have a meeting between the three of us. Any more people will surely attract too much attention. Yethro will bring him to us, and if we think he is what we want, we will approve of Yethro’s adoption. Then, since he will be Yethro’s son, he will also be of the line of the prophet. I am sure that even if we do not approve, some other way would be found. I myself have a daughter that I’m sure Jesse would find desirable,” the Caliph laughed. “And I’m sure later on he may want to take her as his second wife just to seal the deal.”

“While I’m sure he would be honored to have her in his household-I’m not so sure either my niece nor the American public would appreciate another woman in his bed!” Rashid said.

“But if he replaces American law with Sharia law, it would be permitted and expected that he take another wife. Besides, from what I hear and read many American political figures do have many bed partners. All we do is legalize, authorize and permit it.”

“I’m sure the daughter of the Caliph would not like to be seen as a ‘second wife’! There must be hundreds of men willing to jump at the chance of marrying her, your Eminence.”

“Yes, there are many, but none with the potential of this Jesse. Hmmmmmm! Now that gives me an idea, Rashid, I wonder why I did not think of it before! You will marry her!! That will close the circle. As your wife, my daughter can report back to me and be my personal representative to the American Caliphate. It also puts the blood of the prophet in your lifeline and ties the two Caliphates together in a strong knot.”

Rashid almost choked, but hoping that he was joking, he kept his mouth closed and said nothing.

“I see. Am I to understand that by your silence, you do not agree to this?”

After a while he said, “I was just shocked and humbled that your Eminence would even consider such a poor low-born person as me… I do not have words to express my feelings at this honor. However, I do not have the bridal price that would justify your daughter’s hand.”

“That is not really true. From what I hear you have a lot of money in a Swiss bank account that will become yours when Jesse marries your niece. However, I would require only a small portion of it to compensate me for the loss of my daughter. After all, I would not want to leave my daughter’s husband unable to support her.”

“But I will not be able to pay you right away.” Rashid pleaded. “The honor of our families will be besmirched.”

“Now, now, my dear friend let us not worry about that, my future son-in-law. Just provide me with male grandchildren that I can bounce on my knee… and do it quickly… Now tell me if we have a deal…

“How can I refuse”…

“Good I knew you would accept my offer. Then it is all settled. I am going to arrange a meeting between Yethro, Jesse and myself and if I find him acceptable then he will be approved and welcomed into our inner circle. Good bye for now Rashid.” The Caliph smiled and put down the phone and said to his second in command who had been listening on an extention, “Now we shall see what this Jesse is made of…”

“What do you mean by that?” asked his assistant. “If he is anything like Yethro, he should be a horny homosexual.”

“I know it is the rumor that Yethro purchased him from that bordello, but he also freed him and then adopted him. No Bedouin would ever do that! How would you know that?”

“Yethro is capable of doing anything. Are you forgetting? It was that rotten son of a bitch that sold me into sexual slavery when I was in that hellhole of a prison. He and that bastard relative of his, Dan, hand picked, interviewed and even tried me out before shipping me over seas to be sold.”

“Now, now, my friend, I cannot find fault with them for doing that. After all you were serving a life term for multi-murders and never would have been set free under any circumstance. You were lucky that they spotted you as a prime example of manly flesh and realized that it was a waste of taxpayers’ money keep you penned up. Had he not sold you to the slavers, I would never of had the opportunity to find such a rare gem as you. Just look at what you have become since you accepted the true faith. While it is true that you can never return to the United State, you are now a free man and no longer a slave. I even treat you like my second in command and you act as well as a trusted advisor to not only me, but to the counsel members. Who knows there might even come a day when this Jesse sets up his ‘American Caliphate’ that I might even convince him to restore you to your place in the United States. Would you like to go back there?”

“I will never go back there. I like it here and I like serving you and our people.”

“Well. Be that as it may, I think that I will have a special job coming up for you.”

“And what is that, Master?”

“I love when you call me that!” the Caliph said and reached out and ran his fingertips along his lieutenant’s chin line and over his lips. “I like the way that beard is coming in. It changes your entire face and I don’t think, your mother or anyone else would recognize you as an ex-convict. Therefore, I have decided to take you with me on a big trip.”

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