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This story continues right from Part 1. You don’t really need to read it, but it wouldn’t hurt.

___________________________

As I’m ferociously tugging at my cock, I suddenly hear his voice in my head, “only I tell you when you get to cum”.

I drop my cock, it stands straight up, leaking a small drop of precum, begging to be touched, begging to cum again.

I remember his rules. I remember that he needs to trust me, and I need to trust him.

I look over at the clock, and it’s about the time I would get home if I actually lived three hours away.

I opened my app, sent a message that I arrived home safely.

His reply was quick, “Good boy. You made good time. Hope you didn’t speed too much. Can’t have my sexy leather boy getting into a car wreck.”

“Yes Sir, I will be mindful of my speed next time.”

“Good boy,” he replied, “When can you submit to me again? I’ve thought about you since you left, and I haven’t left my chair, or gotten my cock to go down.”

“Well Sir, how about this next Saturday, I could drive over again.”

“I like that boy, I sure wish you lived closer so I could see you more often, I need some release.”

“Me too Sir. Me too. I’m going to head off to bed Sir. Good night.”

“Good night boy.”

The next several days went by about as slow as humanly possible. I couldn’t wait for Friday to arrive to see him. I still needed to keep my distance before I let him in.

We’ve messaged with each other all week, some fetish talk, some regular talk. I wanted to touch myself every night, but have resisted the ure. I still need to remember to tell him about when I did touch myself. Honesty, I thought, is the best policy.

Friday night, and I was lying in bed, thinking of the next day. Thinking of the ways he was going to need me. He wasn’t using me, at least that’s not how I felt it. I was giving my submission, and he was enjoying the service.

I received a message, “Good evening boy, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Arrive by 11:00 am, wear only a leather jockstrap under your sweat suit, the hood and the rest of your uniform will be waiting for you, and so will I. You might get to please this throbbing cock of mine tomorrow.”

“Yes Sir. I will see you at 11:00 am.”

I hardly slept again that night, and woke up early. I put on my favorite leather jockstrap with the red codpiece, jumped into the sweat suit, and drove to his house.”

I arrived right at 10:45, I parked down the street, walked up to his house, and noticed a different car on the street than had been there last time. I hope they were visiting the neighbors.

I walked into the garage, shed my sweat suit, and placed the hood over my head, but left the strings. I walked to the garage door to the house, and there was a sign. “Enter when ready boy, then kneel on the floor in the kitchen, ring the bell when you’re ready to present yourself to your Sir.”

I opened the door, and heard multiple male voices, I slightly panicked, ran back through the door, stripped the hood, jumped into my sweatsuit and sprinted to my car. I was not ready for more than one person. I was not prepared to deal with this. Too much, too fast.

I opened my app and saw a message, “Was that you boy that ran out of here? What happened?”

I replied, “I heard another man’s voice when I entered the kitchen, and I am not prepared for more than one man. It’s too much for me Sir.”

“Oh,” he replied, “I understand, however, the man you heard was my tailor. He makes custom leather clothing for me and my boy using precise measurements. He’s the best guy within 100 miles of here. When you’re ready, please come back inside.”

“Yes Sir.”

I took several deep breaths, tried to calm my nerves. I needed to trust him. I had no reason not to. He has had great patience with me, had great gentleness with me, and it was time I let a wall down.

I got back into the garage, hood on, in just my jockstrap. I opened the kitchen door, and walked in. I got down on my knees, took a breath, and rang the bell.

I soon heard his leather boots thumping the floor as he walked near me. I kept my face aimed at the floor.

He reaches down and grabs my chin, pulling me up to my feet. He wrapped his arms around me, he was wearing chaps, a jock strap, boots, a full body harness, gloves, and his cap.

“I’m glad you came back in. Let’s get you completely secure.”

“Yes Sir. I…um… think I’ve used this guy to tailor some of my leather, he might recognize my tattoos on my body.”

“Let’s cover them then boy.”

He grabs my shoulder, spins me around, and proceeds to tighten the strings in the back of the hood.

He then grabs soft black tape and covers each of my tattoos completely. He puts his arm around my waist and leads me into the living room.

“Mr. James, meet my latest boy. He needs some measurements taken for some special clothing that suit my tastes.”

There’s a short block in the middle of the living room where Mr. elazığ escort James motions for me to stand. I step up on the block, and he begins taking my measurements.

“Sir, may I ask a question?”

He sits on the leather reclining chair in the corner eyeing me, “you may ask it boy.”

“What exactly is he measuring me for Sir?”

“Just a few items that I wish my boys to wear when I want them to. Some leather, some not.”

“Respectfully Sir, I have my own leather clothes, and not leather clothes, you don’t have to spend your money on things for me Sir.”

“Okay boy, what do you have that’s leather. I figured you had some regular clothes, I just wanted to have easier access here to those clothes if it was needed.”

“Sir, I have several pairs of pants, two pairs of chaps, several button down shirts, long and short sleeves, jock straps, and two pairs of gloves.”

“See boy, you don’t have what I require my boys to wear in my home. Let him finish measuring you, he will make the shorts, and I will provide for my boy. It’s my job as your dominant to make sure you have what I want and what I need for you to service me.”

“Sir, what if we don’t, I don’t know, work out” I ask?

“Then we will have an option for you to purchase the clothing from me, or I will return them to Mr. James, he will clean them, and repurpose them or sell them himself. I get a partial refund if it comes to that.”

He gets up from his chair, walks over to me, “But I hope we ‘work out’. I rather enjoy getting to play with this body, and I can’t wait to let you service me later. Let Mr. James finish, boy, and that’s a command.”

He walks back to his chair and sits down, Mr. James continues my measurements, and scribbles down in his notepad what he needs.

“I’m all set,” he says.

“Thank you Mr. James, you can see yourself out if you don’t mind. I have some business to attend to.”

“No problem.”

Mr. James leaves the house and Sir comes to me, puts his leather gloved hand on the nape of my neck, and leads me to the special room. I don’t want to call it a dungeon, because it’s not a dungeon, so I’m going to call it a special room.

Once in the room, he pushes down to my knees, gently, but commanding in that special touch he has.

“Okay boy. Time for your inspection. First we’ll do an oral one, then a physical one. Tell me, how has your behavior been the last week?”

“Good Sir.” I replied, shakily.

“Nothing you need to tell me? Remember boy, we need to be honest and trust each other, regardless of outcome.”

“Well, Sir, I did play with myself when I got home last week Sir. I didn’t cum, but I badly wanted to, but I did play with my cock when I got home.”

“Okay boy. Anything else?”

“Oh, and I forgot the ball stretcher at my home on my nightstand Sir.”

“Is that all boy?” The tone of disappointment in his voice was strong.

“That’s all Sir.”

“Well boy, I know you know what this means, tell me.”

“I need to be punished for breaking the rules Sir.”

“That’s correct, and punishments are not meant to be enjoyable, so since pain is something you don’t enjoy, a simple spanking will do. Stand boy.”

I do, and he leads me to his chair, bends me over so that I’m lying across the arms. He walks to a corner of the room, and I know better than to look right now. I hate being a disappointment.

He comes back and stands in front of me, he holds a thin paddle in front of my eyes. It’s made of leather with holes in it.

“This is going to hurt some boy, but not break you. I think five for each infraction this time will suffice, don’t you?”

“Yes Sir,” I said with a shaky voice.

He walks behind me and I wait for it, the first smack, left cheek, “Ouch Sir.”

“Did I give you permission to speak? Did I tell you to count or respond boy? Accept your punishment quietly and think about what you did to have to be punished. I don’t want you to forget, I will start again.”

He smacks me again and this time it was the right cheek. He alternates cheeks, but they weren’t light. They hurt, but not enough to use the safe words because I knew that I had broken the rules, and that this pain would soon be done and gone.

Once he finishes the now twelve smacks, I had made a noise after the second one, he grabs my arm and pulls me up to him. He pushes me in front of him, places both hands on my now sore cheeks, “I hope I don’t have to do that again. I only like administering pain when it pleasures my boy, but you need to be reminded of my rules.”

“Yes Sir,” I whimper.

“Now boy, get down on your knees, and prepare to actually enjoy being in my house. I want you to get down on all fours and clean my boots.”

“Yes Sir.”

I drop to the floor, he sits down in his chair, and lights his cigar that’s waiting for him. I immediately begin licking the left boot, cleaning the leather, inhaling the scent. As I’m getting every millimeter of leather erzincan escort to shine, he reaches down under my chin and pulls me to his face.

“I forgot my scotch, go into the kitchen boy and grab me a glass of it. Two ice cubes and fill it about half full.”

“Yes Sir.”

I wasn’t sure if I’m allowed to get up and walk or crawl to the kitchen, I opt to crawl.

Once I reach the door and grab the handle, he speaks up, “You may get up and walk once you’re in the hallway, but return to your knees after you’ve given my drink to me.”

I open the door, and grab his drink.

I return to the room with it, hand it to him, and drop down to his boots again. This leather god in front of me smells amazing, I want nothing more than to find his cock in my mouth.

I began cleaning his right boot this time. Repeating the process now that I have time to get some saliva built up, I could hear his leather glove rubbing against his leather pouch and I begin to push mine out with my stiffening cock.

“Alright boy, that’s enough. Time for your physical inspection. Stand up and present yourself.”

I do, and step back from him. I spread my legs apart and put my hands up behind my head.

“Actually, boy, I want your hands behind your back, holding your wrists together. I don’t care much for armpits.”

I adjust my arms, and keep my eyes on the floor.

He gets up from his chair, walks over to something in the distance, comes back to me, and stands behind me. I can feel his breathing on the back of my neck.

He pulls up my arms so they’re parallel to each other across my back, he then quickly ties my arms together with rope, then attaching that rope across my biceps. Once the rope is tight he grabs the rope in the middle of my back.

“Try and move boy, I need to see how these ropes are on you. I have to ensure you don’t lose feeling in any limbs.”

I shift around, nope, not going anywhere. He is slipping fingers between the ropes and my body in various places.

He puts his body up against mine, exploring the front of me with his gloved hands. He reaches up with his right hand and covers my mouth and nose. His left hand reaches down and grabs my junk through my codpiece.

“You feel that boy? I’m in control of your body, and soon, I will be in control of your mind, and I hope someday to be in control of everything about you boy. You serve me well, and so far, are exactly what I need in a boy. Let’s not rush it though, I want you to drop down to your knees in front of the chair, and put your torso on the chair while I explore my tight little hole back here.”

He releases me, and I step forward towards the chair. I slowly drop down to my knees and lean forward into the chair. My face is on the soft leather, and I can smell his musk. I can smell where he sat. I inhale deeply and the smell is intoxicating.

“That’s it boy, take it in, you’ll soon be needing that scent so much, you’ll never want to leave.”

He leans down, and rubs my ass cheeks, “the redness is beginning to fade boy, you should be fine by the time you leave today. Let’s see this boy hole.”

He spreads both of my cheeks apart and rubs a finger against my hole. It’s been many many years since someone has been down there. I haven’t even done anything to myself.

“Damn boy, that’s a tight fucking hole. When’s the last time you were properly fucked?”

“Honestly Sir, I don’t even remember. It’s been so long.”

“Well boy, I’m going to have to stretch you out, I don’t think you can take me yet. We’ll have to work on this. I’m going to use my fingers, then put a plug in your hole. Every day, after you arrive home from work, you will go into the bathroom and insert this plug, and then attach my ball stretcher for these nuts. I want them to hang low for me. The stretcher must stay on for at least an hour, and the plug should stay in until the following morning when you get up. Understand boy?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good, now, when I put my finger in, you need to push out, don’t clench.”

He reaches around and shoves his leather finger in my mouth, “Give me some lube boy.”

I suckle on his finger, getting it nice and wet with my spit. He pulls the finger back and I feel him push into my hole, “AAAARRGGGHH!”

“I told you not to clench, now you need to push out boy.”

I attempt to push, like I’m trying to push his finger out of me and my hole begins to hurt less. He just waits behind me.

“That’s better boy, keep doing that.”

He begins to work his finger in and out of my hole, loosening me little by little.

He removes his finger, and walks away from me, when he returns, he squirts some liquid on my crack, which slowly drips down to my hole. He pushes his finger back in once it reaches my hole. It’s very slick and makes it easier for his finger to go in and out of my hole. I then feel it stretching, I think he’s got two fingers in there now.

I moan into his leather chair, “thank you Sir.” erzurum escort

“I’ll forgive that indiscretion of speaking, boy. Keep quiet, I’ll give you permission to moan when I can get my cock in here.”

He smacks my ass cheek with his free hand.

I don’t dare make a noise, I remember how this works.

“Okay boy, now I’m going to work the plug into you. Pay attention how I do this because you’re going to have to do this yourself.”

He removes his fingers, then I feel something firm against my hole, then it enters me. This isn’t bad, but as the plug gets further and further into me, it’s getting tighter and tighter. I reach a point where I feel like I’m going to rip in half, and he pulls the plug back. I guess my writhing around gave him a clue. He pulls the plug back almost all the way out, then pushes it back in me.

It gets further, then that sensation returns and he pulls back again.

“You’re almost there boy. Once the base is in, you’ll relax around it.”

He pushes the plug forward after another application of his liquid substance. The plug slides and slides, and then I feel a quick POP.

“There, all the way in. Very good boy.”

He reaches his arms down under my stomach and pulls me upwards to my feet. He spins me around to face him. He plants his lips on mine, and pushes his tongue into my mouth. As he reaches his hands down my back side, he taps the end of the plug. I grunt into his mouth.

I can hear and feel him chuckle. He continues kissing me, tapping the plug repeatedly.

He pulls back just a bit, “Okay boy, are you ready to get those sexy lips around my cock? Sir desperately needs to release a load.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Remember your manners boy, you must ask permission to put your mouth on my cock. It’s a privilege to serve me the way I want.”

“Sir, may I please suck your cock? I want to take your load in my mouth Sir.”

“Of course you do boy. A good little sub boy always wants a cock in his mouth, always needs a load in his throat. He truly isn’t happy without it. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

He swiftly picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, which isn’t an easy task because I’m not a small guy.

We walk through the hallway and into the bedroom, we reach the bed and he gently lays me on it. He then grabs both of my ankles, pulling me down towards the bottom of the bed. I’m in a nice four poster bed with a leather sheet on it.

He grabs some rope from under the bed and attaches the rope to each ankle, and ties it quickly to the corresponding post.

With my arms behind my back, and legs now secure, I am truly tied down. He reaches down and rips the codpiece off my jock and I spring free.

“There’s that lovely set of boy cock and balls.”

He reaches down, grabs my balls and cock in one hand and tugs gently.

“Are you comfortable boy? Does this feel good?”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”

“Good. I bet you’re wondering how you’re going to service my cock like this. Well, I’m going to sit up on your chest and feed you my cock that way. I love looking down and seeing a boy’s mouth stretching around my fat cock.”

He lets go of my cock and balls, and walks away. When he returns, I feel something being put around my balls, then a string is attached to the end of the stretcher and he pulls the rope on the left side to my left foot, securing it around my big toe. He does the same on the right, and my balls are pulled just the right amount of distance. Any further, and this would hurt. I guess I better not move my feet.

He reaches down and places a blindfold over my eyes, “You don’t need to see anything.”

I feel him grab my cock and start stroking me. I arch my back in response, which pulls my balls away from my feet, I grunt, groan, and moan at the same time.

He releases my cock and laughs, “There, now you really can’t go anywhere.”

I hear him walking around the room but can’t tell what he’s doing. I soon feel the side of the bed go down and feel his breath on my chest. He soon leans down and grabs my left nipple with his mouth and the right with his gloved hand. I do my best not to moan because I don’t have permission.

He gets up and straddles me across my stomach and grabs both of my nipples with his hands and pulls.

“You know boy, these nipples would look much better with rings in them. Would you be opposed to eventually having them pierced?”

“I don’t know Sir. Never really thought about it.”

“Well, it’s a quick pinch, and you have tattoos, so it’s not bad. But the choice is yours.”

“Yes Sir. I will think about it.”

He then releases my nipples and scoots forward up to my chest, almost on my neck.

I feel his pouch against my mouth. I stick my tongue out and attempt to lick it clean.

“That’s good boy, now, you should be able to reach an edge with your teeth, so, I want you to pull my pouch off if you want this cock in your mouth.”

I reach around with my tongue looking for an edge, I find one, get my teeth around the edge, and pull my head back as hard as I can and the snap comes open. I use my tongue to find the other edge and remove that snap.

“Only eight more to go,” I think to myself.

He reaches down and pulls the codpiece off, “You got most of it.”

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

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

[Author’s Note: This chaptered novel was originally tagged as running to 15 chapters, but a chapter of the original was split in two for Literotica postings, so there will be 16 chapters. Thus, this is not the final chapter that will post.]

*

“Ricky? Is that really you?”

“Yes, Mom, it’s me. I’d doin’ fine, Mom. Trying to get settled. I want you to come out when I do.”

“Settled? Where are you?”

“Albuquerque. Albuquerque, New Mexico. I’d told you I wanted to settle out here and work on cars. And that I wanted you to come out too.”

Silence for several seconds.

“He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone, Mom?”

No immediate response.

“Pete? Is Pete gone?”

“Yes, he left right after you did. Called me a silly old cow and cleared out.”

“Mom, I tried to tell you.” Rick, of course, wasn’t surprised. This was the option he’d assumed Pete would take.

“Why’d you tell them all that, Ricky? The men came lookin’ for Pete, but he was already gone. They said the most vile things. Why’d you tell them—?”

“Because it was true, Mom. I tried to tell you. You didn’t want to see it or hear it. But Pete didn’t leave because of you. He left because of me. You’re better off without . . . but what did they say when they came lookin’ for him? Are they lookin’ for me too? Because I jumped probation?”

“No, one of them—I think he said he was your probation officer—seemed relieved that Pete was gone. And he told me that no one would pursue your case. That he was seein’ to it. That as long as you kept your nose clean, it would go away. Only if you show up in the system again . . . Ricky you’re not—?”

“I’m keepin’ clean, Mom. And savin’ money. It’s nice out here. You’d like it. And there are medical jobs advertised in the papers all of the time. We could manage out here.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

“We’ll talk about that sometime. Thanks for callin’ to tell me you ain’t dead—although you took your time with it. Let me know when you’ve made your first million, and we’ll talk about it again. Nice you got dreams still; mine ain’t doin’ so well. It’s good to hear your voice, son. But it gets so lonely here . . . alone. I wish that Pete . . . but I gotta go now. I’ve got a shift to get to.”

“I love you, Mom. And there’s a place for you here with me.”

“That’s good to hear, son.”

* * * *

Albuquerque was the first place in four months that put any sort of stability into Rick’s life—the first place where men weren’t almost constantly putting their hands on his hips and moving in real close and telling him how nice he was, how much they wanted him—and then taking him. It wasn’t all their fault, of course. Rick liked to be wanted and he liked to be taken. It had become as much an obsession with him as with them. It was only now, though, when he’d gotten to Albuquerque and found a niche where the men swirling around him weren’t constantly looking at him for what he could give them, how he could scratch their sexual itch, that Rick started to see what a normal life could be and began to settle in to what every other young man enjoyed from life.

Albuquerque was the first city justifying being called that since Rick had been through Dallas, which now seemed to be a lifetime ago. Certainly then he was much less world experienced and weary than he was now. Albuquerque had an old town plaza area as most of the towns in the region did, but, as one of the first railroad hubs in the West, it also had a new city and even a few high-rise buildings. More important for Rick, it had people and automobiles and freeways. Lots of automobiles. And it had car dealerships with large service departments and auto body shops. And, as he had been told in Santa Fe, it had a shortage of auto mechanics.

Rick was able, almost immediately, to find an assistant oil monkey position at a small body shop, which led, by way of a Mexican supervisor who saw that Rick knew more about what he was doing than most wanting work there, thanks to his auto mechanics classes in Baltimore—to Rick being recommended to the guy’s cousin who worked in the service department of Miller’s, a large GMC dealership on the east side of Albuquerque.

That cousin, Luis, a large-framed Mexican with a quick humor, a gift for teaching and for patience, and an encyclopedia knowledge of Chevrolets, Buicks, and Cadillacs, took Rick under his wing, and Rick began to blossom under the tutelage of the first man in his life who had no apparent sexual interests—in him or anyone else, it seemed. Luis’s mistresses were all vintage automobiles, and the longer Rick worked with him, the more Rick was thusly inclined as well. The other mechanics were mostly Hispanics and mostly related to each other, but they were friendly to Rick—anyone all right with Luis being all right with them too. Although they mostly kept to themselves and rattled Spanish off to each other throughout the working day, Rick didn’t feel like he was being frozen out of anything.

Rick was making good money and found a small studio apartment near the diyarbakır escort car dealership, within walking distance. Here too all he heard around him was Spanish from large Hispanic families crawling all over the neighborhood, jovially chattering to each other incessantly, hanging wash out on every available hook, and celebrating each sunset out in the courtyards with large family gatherings, guitar music, and laughter and food.

They were friendly to Rick but they more or less left him alone, and he liked it that way. He came home in the evening with service manuals under his arm and whatever else he could find on auto mechanics, and he spent his evenings poring over those. He didn’t so much forget what had brought him this far from Baltimore as that he was replacing sex with the entirely different arousal of figuring out the mysteries under the hoods of automobiles.

His weekends were spent discovering Albuquerque on foot. He had been held prisoner for so long indoors, it felt good to be able to walk out into the open air, free, and able to make his own decisions and do things on whim and eat what he wanted when he wanted. He joined a gym and worked his body hard, using that to release tension. As chance would have it, the gym was on the fringes of the Central Avenue gay district, which he had also found early in his strolls and had had a little trouble resisting exploring further. At the gym he saw hookups that invariably gave him pause and twitched his butt in memory, but he was determined to take on a new life, revolving around cars that needed help, and he resisted. He was frequently hit on when he first started at the gym, but soon the regulars got the message and left him to himself.

The dealership—in addition to two others—was owned by three brothers. Rick almost never saw the oldest brother, Ted, who was running the Ford dealership. Roy, who managed this one, was the epitome of a used car salesman—at the door with a hand out and a big smile on his face whenever a potential customer was walking along the street. Behind the scenes he was a demanding boss who Luis and the other older guys in the service department continually warned would be a good one to stay the hell away from. That didn’t pose a problem. Roy never came into the service department, and, the men joked, probably didn’t know where the hood latch was on any of the cars he sold.

The younger brother, Jess, seemed to just float around from dealership to dealership, although Luis had told Rick that he managed the car empire’s smaller, exclusively foreign sports car resales dealership on the better side of the town.

Jess was the “golden touch” brother from, Luis told Rick, a younger wife than the other two brothers. He was a lot better looking and much trimmer and significantly younger than the other two. He wore cowboy shirts and a ten-gallon hat much more convincingly than either of his two brothers did, and his smile was more convincing too. When he shook your hand he was looking into your eyes with pale blue ones of his own that made you happy and tingly all at once. He irritated Roy noticeably when he came around the GMC dealership in his vintage baby-blue Cadillac convertible, because he could glide through the showroom in those tooled cowboy boots of his and sell five cars effortlessly.

Everyone wanted to be his friend. He was a poster child for success, and he was always being asked when he was going to run for city council. He often brought his model-perfect blonde wife in with him, his three perfect tow-headed children following along like ducks in a row, and everyone in the dealership—except Roy—snapped to and brightened up in his wake. Every family visit was like a video commercial for him running for office.

And, unlike Roy, Jess didn’t stint on the service department. Whenever he showed up, he’d end up in the service department, he and Luis peering under the hood of Jess’s beloved Cadillac convertible and worshiping this and that in the engine compartment. He had time to talk to each of the guys in the service area, to ask about their families and to shake their hands. He was especially attentive to Rick and was happy discussing auto parts with him, careful not to rub it in that he knew more than Rick did, and each time leaving Rick knowing more about the automotive industry than he had before Jess had walked through. Once even, Luis had come into work early, as he always did, to find both Rick and Jess already there. Luis spied four legs under the chassis of a car, and both young men came out from underneath it with grease on their hands and their faces and flush from the celebration of, together, having located the source of an oil leak and stopping it up.

Everything was going just fine until Rick saw the quarter-page ad in the Sunday paper. It was for a film series showing at a local club. Sponsored by the local gay community, through an organization called Closet Cinema, the top-rated films of the year’s Mirage gay film festival were going to be shown, with short film runs of edirne escort each, over a two-week period. Without thinking, Rick looked at the list of films being shown. Journey to Mirage wasn’t hard to find. As the festival grand winner, it was at the top of the list. There were more than a dozen showings he could catch at a local club called the Albuquerque Mining Company. Rick knew where it was—in the middle of the Central Avenue gay district. He hadn’t gone inside ever, but he’d been tempted to.

He told himself he wasn’t tempted to go see the film that had taken so much out of him and yet fulfilled so many fantasies of his. But even then he knew he would.

He picked a Thursday afternoon, taking off from work—the first day he’d ever asked for, so Luis saw no reason not to give it to him. Rick reasoned that there would be fewer patrons at the club then. He could slip in, see the film, and slip out again.

The film was mesmerizing. He relived every moment, every fantasy, every fuck. He was both exhausted and drained and, at the same time, keyed up and his balls aching from buildup, the need for release, as he came out of the movie and into the blinding light. His eyes were having trouble adjusting to the glare and he almost stumbled into someone standing firmly in his line of exit.

“Um, sorry,” he muttered as he moved to the left to get around the figure. But the figure moved with him, and Rick looked down and saw cowboy boots he recognized and his new world collapsed around his now-leaden feet.

“It was you. That really was you. You’re Randy Lane.”

Rick looked up into those pale-blue eyes of Jess Miller, and he felt like dissolving into the baking sidewalk.

“Uh. No, not me . . . not—”

“Come with me, please.” Jess had him firmly in a hold on his arm and was marching him toward a nearby parking garage. Rick followed along in shock, imaging all sorts of bad outcomes from this. Exposure. Worse, being hauled back to stand before Luis and Roy for the accusation and the very public dress down and firing.

Rick saw the bull horn ornament grinning at him from the front of the Cadillac convertible as he was hustled up the ramp. Jess opened the passenger side of the door and pushed Rick in and went around to the other side and drove at high speed down to the ticket booth and then at higher speed through the city.

It didn’t take Rick long, though, to see that they weren’t driving toward the GMC dealership. Maybe the auto group had some sort of corporate offices? Or was the police department in this direction? But Rick couldn’t figure out what the police would have to do with anything. He hadn’t broken any laws or anything. And he hadn’t misrepresented himself to get the job. He hadn’t even applied for a job at the GMC dealership; he’d been recommended and taken on faith. Taken on faith, Rick thought, and then he gave a nervous little laugh. Would Luis have taken him on if he had known about Rick’s past? And there was probably an outstanding warrant on him back in Maryland. But he hadn’t misrepresented himself. His name wasn’t Randy Lane; it was Rick Hernandez. And he was a damn good auto mechanic now. He was doing the job he was being paid for.

“Mr. Miller,” he said in a low voice, trying to break the frosty silence that had hung over them from the beginning. Maybe trying to come up with an explanation that would make it all go away.

“Shut up and be quiet, Rick—or Randy, or whoever you are. Just shut up. I had no idea. I . . .” But then he shut up himself.

They were out of the city now, driving out onto the ranges, where the ranches were starting to get spaced farther apart. He turned onto a dirt road and they were riding between two spreads with cattle on either side and back into the scrub a couple of miles farther. The road ended at a small compound with an adobe house and a few outbuildings. The house didn’t look derelict, but it didn’t exactly look like anyone lived there now, either. The outbuildings were in a bit worse shape, except for a garage that looked fairly new.

Jess drove around to the back of the house, to where the Cadillac couldn’t be seen from the front, and he turned off the motor and sat there for a moment, trembling—Rick assumed from rage—for a moment and looking down at the hands in his lap, which were also trembling slightly.

“Mr. Miller. That isn’t me now. I’m a good mechanic.”

“I . . . asked . . . you not to speak,” Jess hissed through almost closed lips. And then he turned and looked into Rick’s eyes. And Rick saw the wildness in the eyes and he saw something else, something all too familiar.

Like a cat leaping following an eternity of watching and twitching its tail, Jess had leaned into Rick and grabbed the hair at the back of Rick’s head and snapped his head back and was at Rick’s mouth with his own, greedily possessing it, while his other hand was fumbling with Rick’s belt buckle and zipper and was digging for Rick’s cock.

Mere seconds later, Jess’s face was in Rick’s lap and Jess was slurping edirne escort bayan on Rick’s cock. He was pushing Rick’s briefs and jeans off his legs with a hand that then dug under his balls, searching for Rick’s channel. Rick moaned and rolled his hips up to give Jess’s long, strong fingers access. Rick’s hands were on the back of Jess’s head, holding him and guiding him in the suck.

It had been so long, and the movie had keyed him up so high. Rick had told himself he didn’t need this anymore. But it had been a lie. He’d lied to himself.

“Mr. Miller,” he murmured. “Oh, god. Oh, shit. Yesss. Ohhh FUCK!”

It had been so obvious. Why hadn’t he known? He was there. Jess Miller was there. How would he have recognized Rick in the movie, if he hadn’t been there himself, watching the movie?

“In the back. Now.” Jess said, his voice thick with want.

“We shouldn’t,” Rick objected to weakly. “You don’t want to . . . your family.” But he went no further. He wanted it. And Jess was a wild man. Rick knew Jess had to have it. And here, now, so did Rick.

Jess was fumbling with the buttons on Rick’s cowboy shirt, nearly ripping it off his back. Jess’s teeth went to an exposed nipple and Rick yelped at the bite. “Now!” Jess demanded. He was out of the car, dragging Rick with him with one hand and tearing at his own clothes with the other then shoving him into the backseat.

Miller sat on the trunk of the car, legs spread and descending into the backseat compartment, the soles of his feet, still clad in the cowboy boots, leveraging off the cushy seat cushion, while he slow pumped his cock up into Rick’s enveloping mouth cavity. When he couldn’t take any more, he pulled Rick up from between his legs, reversed their position, with Rick belly down on the lid of the trunk, head pointed at the tailpipes. Jess stood, reversed on the backseat, crouched over Rick’s hips, his cock crammed up inside Rick’s channel, and pumped and pumped and pumped until, giving a little cry of release, he collapsed onto Rick’s back, where they both lay, panting and murmuring wonders of the fuck to each other.

“Come into the house. Let me put the Caddie in the garage and then come into the house with me.”

“I don’t know . . . we shouldn’t have—”

“I’ll put the Caddie away and then we’ll go into the house.”

Both still naked except for their boots, Jess led Rick in through the back door. They entered a well-appointed kitchen that belied the aged look of the outside of the house. Beyond that was a living and dining room combined that was furnished well and was clean and uncluttered. A small hall to the right gave access to two bedrooms, one on the front of the house and one on the back, with a bathroom between them.

“It’s nice, Mr. Miller. But I don’t understand—”

“Come into the back bedroom. I want to show you your bed.”

My bed. The phrase shot through Rick’s brain, and he was suddenly thinking of Bill Grimes. And his blood ran cold.

But Jess’s blood wasn’t cold. He was still very much in heat and, Rick could clearly see, very much in erection again.

The bed was a brass headboarded one, just like so many others Rick had known. It creaked and groaned just as badly as the one at the Big C ranch had while Jess missionary fucked Rick with animalistic fury and intensity—and with great stamina—while Rick reached for the brass pillars in the headboard and hung on for dear life, enough into the fuck, though, to meet every upward thrust of Jess’s cock with a downward thrust of his own hips.

An eternity later, when they were lying in each other’s arms, the sweat still pouring off both, Jess spoke through heaving breaths.

“The place is mine. I keep it for my . . . for my men. But it will be just for you now. You won’t have to work anymore. You can stay out here and I’ll bring everything to you. It’ll be good. There’s a TV and the radio . . . a computer. And I’ll bring you any books you need and anything else. I’ll bring your cars to tinker with while I’m away. We’ll have a ball.”

“Sounds like . . . like paradise,” Rick answered back, thinking that it sounded more like yet another mirage, yet another prison. “I’ll have to go back to town, though, to get my things and to let Luis know—”

“I’ll take care of Luis. He’ll understand. He told me all along you’d probably be a great lay. Said he’d make it happen for me. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in that movie. Went back three times, not believing my eyes. And then, today, there you were.”

“Luis? He procures . . . for you?”

“Shush. I don’t think I’ll need anyone else for some time now. God, you’ve got a sweet ass. And that movie. We’ll have to buy a copy. I want to do so much of that with you.”

“Uh, I’ll want to go back to my apartment for my things, and in a few days. . . . but now maybe we should get dressed and . . .”

“Now? Not yet. I want you again.”

Rick groaned, but when Jess nudged him, he rolled onto his stomach himself. And he himself reached for his butt cheeks and spread them for Jess. He too wanted it again now. He had only been fooling himself about being able to go without it. Jess’s cock was only average. But it was there. Fully erect once more for him. And Jess’s body was so beautiful. The man had charisma to spare—he absolutely overpowered Rick with his commanding presence.

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

Jeremy felt a hand moving softly and delicately through his hair, disentangling them while caressing him simultaneously. He stirred but kept his eyes closed. He was snuggled under the blankets, warm and cosy and had no intention of getting up. He was still half asleep and had no idea who was caressing him; all he cared about was the good feeling of being touched with love. The soft hand was now on his cheek, softly plucking it and delicately touching. Then a low husky voice followed.

“It’s morning, babe. You need to get up, else you’ll be late.”

As if someone had taken two drums and banged them above his head, Jeremy sat up straight throwing the covers away. However, the swift jerking didn’t work out as he instantly felt dizzy and unfocussed. A few minutes passed before he relaxed and could focus. He fixed his eyes on Jacob looking at him with an amused expression on his face. Apparently, he had just showered because his towel was wrapped around his waist, his hair was damp and fell on his forehead (unlike the usual spiked look), and he looked fresh, sexy and smelled great. Jeremy felt like shit on watching him. However, his embarrassment and mild shock turned into a full blown shock when he saw a breakfast tray kept on a stand near him.

He looked at the tray and then at Jacob. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He was dead sure he was dreaming and about to lie down and throw the covers over himself when Jacob ruffled his hair and laughed. “Get up, lazy-bum!”

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile and rubbed his eyes like a kid. Jacob simply adored the cute sleepy guy on his bed. He loved that this boy was his and his alone. He loved to be the only one in his life; the sole protector, the only one the boy had; the only one Jeremy could come to. He loved to pamper him, to caress him, to make him happy, to spoil him; but he didn’t like if someone else even thought of spoiling their little world.

“I’m going to dress now. You better be done before I get ready!” Jacob instructed Jeremy with a smile and a wink.

Jeremy looked at Jacob and smiled widely. He stretched and took his cup of coffee with hazelnut flavour. Taking a sip of the delicious and reviving drink he looked around the room. It was their bedroom. It was huge and beautiful with class and grandeur etched into every feature. Their bed was king-size and made of very polished ebony with ultra-soft mattresses and pillows; covered with white silk covers. The general hue of the room walls was dark brilliant blue except the wall against çorum escort the bed. It was a crimson red painted in the manner to give it a rough dotted exterior. On this wall hung a big framed picture of the couple. The photo had been clicked on a trip to Bahamas. Against the backdrop of a raging sea, and the flaming setting sun which had casted a burning hue in the sky, stood the couple. Dressed in a black shirt unbuttoned to the abs and shorts, Jacob had his hand around Jeremy, who was clad in a sky blue t-shirt and capris. Jeremy stood smiling sweetly as the wind played with his hair while Jacob stood straight with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow holding the former as firmly as possible. Jeremy looked at the photo reflected in the huge mirror opposite to their bed. He distinctly remembered that night when Jacob had gone down on his knee and proposed. How he had been over-whelmed with emotion and had fallen into his arms. Engaged, they were now living together.

His gaze now turned to the paintings on the other walls. Jacob was a connoisseur of art and had got some great paintings from his trips to Paris and Venice. They were interesting and amazing. However, one painting which always intrigued Jeremy was one Jacob had painted in jest. Jeremy had been laughing at Jacob’s painting mania and challenged him to paint one. Jacob had taken his paints and after an hour wherein his white tee got a splash of colour stains he had made a weird blast of colours on the canvass. The painting had turned out to be a hard splash of deep red and black splashed on the canvass as if the two colours were intertwining and yet separated creating a storm or a whirlwind like pattern. Jeremy had looked at it, and laughed his head off, colouring Jacob’s nose red with a little paint and running away. Jacob had caught him and both had fallen on the bed where after things had become hot.

Jeremy looked at the panting and remembering the night smiled and took the final sip of his coffee. He got out of the bed and moved towards the windows. Beautiful and rich velvet curtains imparted a royal look to their room. He held the curtains and swung them away to let the day in. He was blinded by the bright sun whose brightness was magnified by the pure white snow covering the roads, pavements and buildings around. Jeremy grabbed a coat and walked into the balcony. The sun was shining bright heralding a new day. He shivered at the chill in the air but the warmth of the sun felt great against his skin. denizli escort He looked at the road covered with snow which the trucks were trying to remove. People armed with shovels had come out of their houses to scrape the snow from their porch. Children were laughing loudly as they tried to make the best architecture of childhood- the Snowman. They laughed as they fell in the snow smashing the tummy or the head of their snowman or throwing snowballs at each other. Jeremy looked at the kids and felt warmth surging in his chest. Bliss and happiness soon replaced sorrow as he saw a kid shouting, “Daddy, look I made a snowman!”

A slight tear escaped his eye but froze midway. The wind was chilly. Jeremy sighed and turned away from the kid who was now on his father’s shoulders pretending to be a jumbo jet. He walked into the room to look if Jacob was dressed.

*****

Jeremy grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He was already late for college and there was some impatient jerk relentlessly ringing the bell. Usually, as per rules Jacob dropped him at college but today he had to attend an important meeting. So he had been left on his own without a Porsche to drive him to the college. He had lost sense of time without Jacob’s routinized presence and had got late.

The doorbell rang for the seventh time now and Jeremy was annoyed beyond control. He reached the door and flung it open; and came face to face with a bouquet of white roses. Taken back Jeremy jerked his head away.

“What the hell?”

The bouquet of roses moved aside and Chris surfaced grinning widely. Jeremy looked from Chris to the roses and back again not understanding what to do. Chris however took his silent confusion as an invitation to enter the apartment. He walked past Jeremy leaving the roses in his grasp and looked around.

“That’s a great place you got here.” He concluded.

“What are you doing here?” Jeremy shot at him bewildered.

Chris turned to look at him surprised. However, comprehension dawned on him and reflected on his face. “Oh! My bad; I came to check how you’re doing. How’s the snooty ass?”

“Excuse me!” Jeremy exclaimed in indignation. Chris merely chuckled and moved to sit on the armchair. He started rocking it and soon made it a kid’s game.

Jeremy who would have got amused in a normal situation was not pleased. “What are you, twelve?”

Chris stopped his rapid rocking and turned to him. With his tongue between his teeth düzce escort he got up and scratching the back of his head said, “Sorry.”

Jeremy inwardly smiled at the cuteness but maintained his show of a stern expression. Chris now came close to Jeremy and with his face inches away from the latter’s face asked,” So, how are you feeling?”

A bit uneasy Jeremy stammered, “I…I’m fine.”

Chris smiled and withdrew. He gave Jeremy an x-raying look from top to toe lingering at the lips and the region which the towel surreptitiously covered. Jeremy suddenly became conscious of his nudity and crossed his arms in front of his chest taking a more defensive stance.

The clock struck nine and Jeremy started. Hell! He was very late now!

“Listen, I’m getting late for college. It was nice of you to have come. See you.” Jeremy shot at Chris.

“Will you have lunch with me?” Chris replied.

“What? Why? No!” Jeremy replied in haste as he began ushering Chris to the exit.

Chris, however, continued his questions while being ushered to the door.

“Dinner?”

“No! I’m getting late!”

“Please! Tonight at 8!”

“What part of No don’t you understand?”

“I’ll pick you up at 7.45! Please!”

“No dude! I’m engaged!”

“Please! It’s a friend thing! Please! Please! Please!

“Fine! Now just go!”

“See you at 7.45 then! Bye!”

Jeremy slammed the door in his face and rushed to his room. As he threw a shirt and jeans on he quickly thought over what he’d just got himself into- dinner with a stranger. This wouldn’t go down well with Jacob. What would he do now? He had to think of something. But for now college!

*****

Jacob looked at Jeremy shutting the door and running to the bedroom. He now appeared in the bedroom quickly dressing in a t-shirt and jeans. Within minutes he was ready and having grabbed his bag, he had rushed out of the apartment. Jacob’s jaw was clenched as he switched off the laptop. It was a good idea that he had got the entire apartment under surveillance. He could keep track of every activity Jeremy did. This guy was getting too close to Jeremy. And how could the boy be ready to go out on dinner with a random man.

Jacob stared into the black screen of the laptop. Why did Jeremy make it so difficult? Why did he have to create problems? Couldn’t he just stay away from anyone and everyone who was a threat to their relationship? Didn’t he realize how important their relationship was? Didn’t he realize how important Jacob was in his life? Didn’t he realize it was he who had come to his aid and supported him in the most testing phase of his life?

Jeremy had to realize that he was with Jacob now. He was Jacob’s and no one else’. He had to learn this lesson. And tonight he would learn it.

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

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

He was stunned when I told him and pleaded with me to reconsider. We had had sex in our usual way, and we were both very loving, not having met for a number of months. In the four years that we had been meeting I think the most we ever met was five or six times a year. This was because our work schedules and times free from family responsibilities rarely coincided and our homes were twenty miles apart. In some ways we were very different. He was seven years older than me (I was 38 when we started) and was self-employed. In fact he was the boss of a small electrical firm, while I was just an employee in a large factory. These differences, and the difference in our education, only added to the excitement of our meetings – and we had much more in common on the sexual front. Neither of us was much experienced with other men but both of us enjoyed wanking; and both of us enjoyed wanking each other. Sometimes we met at his home, sometimes at mine, but after my son was born and my girl-friend (now my wife) moved full-time into my home, my house was not possible, so we sometimes met in my car, down a deserted lane. Usually it was night-time but we once had sex in the car in full daylight and I was terrified that a passing car would see me, my dick sticking out of my trousers and Bernard bending over it, wanking it. After about two years we graduated to sucking each other but withdrawing before we came. Usually I came first, saying “Berny … Berny … I’m going to cum” and he would finish me off with his hand. My orgasms with him were incredibly intense and the results messy. I would have to clean up before I turned my attention and my mouth to him. He never lasted long once I got going, and he liked to keep his hand round my softened dick while I moved my lips up and down his swollen knob. He would gasp “I’m close, Darren … very close …. Here it cums!” and I would withdraw my lips and watch his sperm fountain out of him.

Talking of sperm, my girlfriend – as she then was – wanted to have a baby. She was 35 and said she didn’t mind if I married her or not but she wanted a baby by me. We had been trying for several months before I first met Bernard and we went on trying, but without result. We thought maybe it was my fault so I applied through my doctor to have a sperm test. I told Bernard I was having this done and he just laughed. He had three children himself and he said he’d never seen anyone more fertile than me.

He proved to be right. When the results of the test came back the doctor told me I had enough sperm in the sample I’d given to populate a village.

Doing the test was quite embarrassing because the sample had to be fresh. When I arrived at the hospital I was given a small, sterilised jar like a jam jar with quite a small opening at the top and told by a nurse to go into a curtained waiting area (with a bed) to produce my sample. Not only was this rather embarrassing but figuring out how to get my first jump into the bottle presented problems because I spurt quite high. In fact I took much longer to cum than usual and I partly missed with my first spurt but managed to get most of the next – and the next – into the glass jar. I handed over my sample when I came out with the reddest face I’ve ever had, refused a cup of tea and made a rapid escape to my car in the car-park. As I’d got time off work to have the test I suddenly realized that because it was over so quickly it might be safe for me to visit Bernard, so I phoned him on my mobile and told him I’d just done the test.

“How do you feel ?” he asked, so I told him “All right.”

“Come along and see me, then” he said “And I’ll add some more juice to your little pot. Meet me at my home in half an hour. Don’t worry if you can’t cum again. Just come.” And with that he switched his mobile off.

We bursa escort met half an hour later at his home. He gave me a big hug and offered me a cup of coffee, which I accepted. Usually our meetings could only last about half an hour but today I didn’t need to be back at work for two hours so we could take our time. But we didn’t linger over the coffee – or taking our clothes off once we were in the bedroom. I’d had plenty of time to recover and I was as stiff as a poker. So was he. We stood there, in the bedroom, and embraced, our stiff dicks pinned to our thighs by our mutual pressure. Then I dropped to my knees and took his knob, all wet with pre-cum, into my mouth. He was so excited that he said he was in danger of cumming there and then, so we transferred to the bed, lying there on our sides with our fingers clasped round each other’s dicks. I could tell immediately that I would be able to cum again but he invited me to suck him first by rolling onto his back. He came very quickly in great jets of spunk; then said that he might be able to cum again in a few minutes, so we talked quietly for a bit until we found we were both stiff again. This time we did a hand job on each other, both at the same time, and I soon felt the unmistakable sensation of cumming. As my sperm burst out for the second time that day I said “And I thought it was you who were going to cum again.” I don’t think there was so much juice this time, but even so there was still quite a lot, and this time I felt satisfied and tired – too tired, too satisfied to finish the job on him. He didn’t mind. He just said “That’s great, Darren. For a second go you’ve produced a huge amount of spunk. We’d better clean up and get back to work.”

It was not long after that first sperm sample that my girlfriend told me she thought she was pregnant and it was confirmed a month later. During the seven months that remained of her pregnancy I met Bernard twice and each time he asked after her health with real concern. The same happened two years later when my daughter was on the way and it was from Bernie that I took the advice to have the vasectomy after she was born. It did seem odd to be having this affair while I was also having a family, but I can only say that we were genuinely fond of each other and shared similar feelings about sex. We were also very well tuned to each other whenever we were able to meet, which was not often. That’s not to say that we didn’t like sex with our wives too. We did – but we enjoyed each other’s dicks too. I usually came first when we were together, hoping to keep the best – Bernie’s cum – to the end. I think he thought mine was the best, so we were well matched.

Writing this reminds me of three years later when I had had both my kids and had my vasectomy. After the op I had to wait five days, using a rubber when I had sex with my wife, and then give a sperm sample to test that there were no live sperms in the spunk. It was the same hospital and I had the same small bottle to produce my spunk in. This time I knew the ropes and was less embarrassed about it, but it gave me another opportunity to see Bernard with a safe excuse for being away from home. So I phoned him on his mobile and he said he would go to his home and wait for me there. Half an hour later we were in each other’s arms and about ten minutes after that we were both shooting wads. He was a passionate but gentle lover and I always felt safe with him. It never took either of us long to cum once we were lying down together.

It had, of course, to end. And it was Bernie who wept after I told him. There were no reproaches. He thanked me for everything we had done together and said I had always been as honest with him as he had been with me. I got into my car and drove away with sadness in çanakkale escort my heart, but also relieved that the affair was now over and I wouldn’t have to tell any more lies about where I was going. My wife had begun to be suspicious about my going out and wondered if I was meeting another woman now that she was tied up with a young family. I asked him not to phone me, and he kept his promise. For three years I often thought about him but all communication between us was at end. Then one day, while I was having a week’s holiday from work, I was in a large DIY store when suddenly I saw him come in through the main doors with a woman by his side. My feelings were all confused. Part of me wanted to hide – but where ? I was in the row which contained all the paints and I didn’t know where he would be heading. But another, deeper part of me wanted to meet him. I had never felt guilty about what we had done together. It had seemed totally natural, I had been fond of him and still thought about him quite often.

He stopped near the entrance and I could see him talking with the woman and pointing down one of the aisles. Then they separated and she went in the direction he had pointed at and he came towards the shelves of paints. At least I had some forewarning, whilst he had none. I was reaching up for a tin of paint (to hide my confusion) when he saw who I was. There was a start of recognition and then he said in a low voice “My God – Darren !”

I put the tin back on the shelf and turned towards him. “Hi !” I said, simply.

He put his hand out as if to shake mine, then thought better of it and – turning to see if the woman had disappeared – said quickly, “Meet me outside in two minutes by my car. It’s parked to the left of the entrance.” And he turned and went through the exit, leaving me to follow him after he was out of sight. I never thought of not doing so. His request had been too urgent for that. He had opened his car door when I reached him and was pretending to look for something. He straightened up when he saw me and this time he did shake my hand. “It’s great to see you again, Darren.”

“It’s great to see you too,” I stammered.

“Look, we haven’t got long” he said, urgently. “My wife returned to me two years ago and she’s in the store there. We had such a good thing going, you and me. Do you think you could bear to meet me again – even if it’s only once per year ?”

How could I resist ? The warmth of his voice and the pressure of his hand caused an instant swelling in my groin. I couldn’t say no because all my feelings for him – as his for me – were returning in full flood. “I’m on holiday at the moment” I replied. “That’s why I’m here. I’m buying paint to redecorate the downstairs of my house.”

“And your kids – and your wife – are they well ?” he asked.

“Yes – fine. How are you ?”

“I miss you – I’ve always missed you” he said. “Otherwise fine. Look, if you’re on holiday, is there any chance you could come over tomorrow ? My wife is going shopping all morning. You could take a tin, the wrong shade of paint, back home and say you’ll get it replaced with the right shade tomorrow. I’ll get the shade you really want and you can come directly to my home and take it back when we’ve finished.”

It seemed like a pretty good idea to me because it gave me a good excuse. “OK” I said, “About eleven o’clock then ?”

He nodded, and we went back separately into the store, met again near the paint tins and I took the wrong shade and he took the right one. Then, without further speech, we went in different directions down the aisle and he rejoined his wife while I went to the checkout.

That night I could hardly sleep. After my wife got up to give the kids their breakfast I was sorely tempted çankırı escort to have a wank but I managed to avoid doing so by going to the bathroom and running myself a cool bath. Even then my stiff dick stood up and looked at me questioningly, as if pleading to be pulled off there and then. Somehow I managed to stop myself and somehow I remembered to put the tin of paint in the car before I set off.

The journey took nearly forty minutes and he was at the door to meet me. As soon as he had closed it behind me he took me into his strong arms, hugged me and kissed me on the lips. Then he ran his fingers through my hair as we both pressed our bodies against each other. I got an immediate erection and felt with my free hand down to his crotch to see if he had one too. He did, of course, and there was only one place to go – and to go there at once. Once in his bedroom it was a matter of seconds to take off our clothes and there we were again, after three years, stark naked and facing each other with dicks sticking out in excitement. We embraced in the space at the foot of the bed, pressing our dicks into each other and after a minute or two I slithered to the floor onto my knees and wrapped my fist round his long pole while my lips closed softly over his knob. He drew his breath in deeply as I did this, then gently withdrew his dick, saying that he was so excited that if he was not careful he would cum all over the carpet.

We climbed onto the bed, where he took charge. His fingers had all their old magic as they explored my chest, my nipples, my belly and my thighs, and I was almost ready to burst by the time he placed his hand on my dick. As he did so he moved down the bed so that he could enfold my knob with his lips while he stroked my shaft with his hand. I lasted about thirty seconds before telling him I was going to cum. He withdrew his lips and I spurted onto my belly. It was the quickest I had ever cum in my life. While I was still pumping he kept stroking me gently, then, when I had finished, he placed his lips softly again on my throbbing knob. It was a kind of heaven and I groaned and laughed with the same breath. Then, when my dick had subsided, he put his finger in one of the pools of spunk and rubbed it into the skin of my belly, joining up all the separate pools in the process. After that he handed me a piece of kitchen paper he had brought up with him and I cleaned up, while he lay back waiting for me to attend to him.

He didn’t last very long either. If it was twice as long as me it was still only a minute ! He came with a bucking of his hips and a massive shudder. “You’ve been saving that up, haven’t you !” I said and he agreed, saying he had been looking forward to it for the last three years. I then treated him as he had treated me – gently caressing the softening knob with my lips and spreading his spunk all over his belly. We talked quietly for a few minutes, relaxed and at peace with each other, until we reckoned I would have to go. We agreed we would try to meet once per year and I gave him my new mobile phone number, but I already knew once a year would be too little and that twice would be more likely, however difficult it was to find a time which suited us both. And he remembered to give me the tin of paint, which I might otherwise have forgotten.

A few weeks later he phoned me on my mobile when I was finishing work – the time we had agreed for any communication. It was to wish me a happy 46th birthday. He asked after my house painting and told me how his wife had been looking in the cupboard where he kept his tins of paint and had said – all unsuspectingly – “I thought you had got a darker shade than this ?” We both laughed at this.

In my car on the way back home a dog ran out into the road in front of me and I had to brake sharply to avoid it. Now that I was a little older than he had been when we first met, surely it wasn’t true that you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks – so long as the “old dog” was human. He was 53. It really is never too late to learn – if you enjoy the good things that life has to offer !

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

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

I love my master’s cock. In fact, I worship it, and him. I am in love with him. I will do anything to please him, including kneeling before him, showering his cock with my love.

He loves to have me suck his huge, beautiful uncut cock everyday. He always makes me take his sweet, salty semen on my face, in my asshole, or in my mouth. It is never wasted. In the time we have been together as Master/Husband and Slave/Mistress/Slut, I have taken gallons of his sperm into or onto my body. If I were a woman, he would have made me pregnant with his child dozens of times.

I am completely submissive with him, and he is more than just my Master. He is my lover and my protector. I live to serve and please him. If I do not please him fully, I am disciplined. If I am not behaving correctly, I am disciplined. I take care of his sexual needs and urges, and anything else he requires me to do.

I live in his home with him. He allows me full run of the house while he is at work, but I must complete my chores, and be showered and waiting for him at the front door when he arrives home, dressed in whichever outfit he has ordered me to be wearing. It is always something sexy, erotic, or feminine, or it may be nothing but my black patent leather 5″ spiked heels. My Master loves me in high heels, so I am always required to wear them, never taking them off except to shower or bathe.

If I unintentionally break one of Master’s rules, I am always punished in some way. He is very creative in his choice of punishments, and while he is fair, he is very stern. He does not like to be challenged, questioned, or disobeyed. Punishment may consist of only a spanking with his hand, all the way up to confinement in the Cage.

The Cage is the strictest punishment. It is just tall enough for me to kneel or sit in. A small stool is bolted in the center. Attached to it is a very, very large butt plug, which I am forced to sit on completely. My ankles are then pulled back and tied securely to the sides of the Cage with ropes. Leather straps are places around my thighs, which are then pulled apart and tied to the Cage walls. My arms are pulled to the top of the Cage with my elbows and forearms touching the cage ceiling, my hands pointing behind me. Ropes are used to bind my wrists and elbows tightly to the bars. A thick leather garter belt is placed around my waist, and chains attached to it are pulled down behind me and fastened to the Cage. If I have not correctly pushed myself firmly onto the Plug, it is now forced deeply into my asshole. Then my Master gags me with either a ball gag or penis gag. Then he attaches nipple clamps to me, which are pulled forward and up, attached to the bars in front.

I am now in a very uncomfortable position, but if I had not disobeyed Master, I would not be in this situation. My back is very erect, my rectum is stretched and filled completely, and my nipples are tightly protruding from my chest. The bindings allow only very slight movement, but doing so sends waves of pain shooting through my nipples or my asshole.

Master may leave me here for anywhere from two hours up to a full day, payment for the worst infractions.

Master likes me to act and look feminine. I am not allowed to wear jeans or pants. If he wishes me to be fully clothed so we may go out, I am required to wear one of many dresses or skirts that he has purchased for me, or Daisy Duke shorts and halter tops. I sometimes am required to wear these at home, but usually I am wearing lingerie, bikini bathing suits, a French Maid’s uniform, or just my high heels. Master likes me to wear lipstick and eye shadow, and other types of makeup according to his whims. He regularly shaves me, because he likes me smooth. bitlis escort When I am told it is time to be shaven, I must quickly strip and assume the position.

He often brings guests home. Depending on their purpose, I may be chained in the Dungeon, or required to serve or service them.

Master’s cock is very beautiful. It is nine and one-half inches long and five and three-quarters around. It is uncut, and one of my chores is to wash his foreskin each day. It is topped by a bulbous, blunt, purple mushroom head. His balls are about the size of golf balls, and are contained in a thick, hairy sac. I adore his cock, and I love to suck it for him. I would suck it all day long if I were allowed. My Master will let me suck it gently, just taking a few inches into my mouth so I can flick my tongue across the head, or he may hold me by my hair and force-fuck all the way down my throat.

Master owns my asshole. He has said so. It is his asshole to do with as he pleases, when he pleases. Sometimes he makes love to me gently, slowly, and tenderly, holding and caressing my body as if we were newlyweds. Other times he is abusive, forceful, and demanding. He may fuck me in all sorts of positions, or tie me up and fuck me over and over for hours until my (His) asshole is raw.

We live in the suburbs of a big city. There are several wooded acres behind the house, and we have good neighbors. None of them suspect that we are anything more than a quiet, reserved couple. If the weather is nice, we go for a nightly walk in the woods after dinner, holding hands and kissing, or just talking. Sometimes he doesn’t fuck me, but usually he wants me to suck him off, or bend over a fallen log and take his cock up my asshole. We sometimes play bondage games in the woods. I can usually tell what to expect from him during our walks based on the clothing he wants me to wear, but not always. He is very careful to keep me guessing. If I am wearing only lingerie, leather, or a nightgown, I am to be fucked. If I am wearing a sundress or shorts, I will likely only be required to suck his long, hard penis until his jizz explodes in my mouth. Either way, whenever we walk in the woods, I am wearing my high heeled shoes.

At bedtime, after we have finished having sex, I remove whatever clothing I have been wearing, except for my heels, and he helps me fit into a black leather corset with an attached cock-and-ball cage. I give my Master a massage until he falls asleep. Then, I am allowed to go to sleep also.

In the morning, I am to be awake before him, and have his breakfast ready when he comes downstairs. Before he leaves for work, he removes the corset and cock cage, and gives me my instructions for the day. He gives me a goodbye kiss, and I go about my chores.

On weekends, we may go out, invite friends over, or stay home alone. I almost always get fucked on weekends, sometimes many times, by many men. Master often brings black men home to sample me. They are always extremely well hung, sometimes longer and thicker than Master, and are very aggressive and demanding in bed. They do not tolerate mistakes.

They do not like foreplay, and they often enjoy tying me up into various positions before filling me with their thick cocks. Like Master, they demand that every drop of their sperm be shot inside my body.

If Master and I are alone, and he needs to come but doesn’t wish to get up from watching television, he may direct me to take his cock while sitting on his lap. Or, he may request that I simply kneel and suck him off.

When we are out in public together, I am always required to wear a corset and girdle. He may hold my hand if he is feeling loving, or just wants bolu escort me to know his dominance. If he is not holding my hand, I am to walk a step behind him, and I may not speak without permission. Otherwise, I am permitted to show him affection and obedience.

We often shop at Lingerie Boutiques, women’s clothing aisles, and adult book stores. Sometimes, he orders me to kneel, take out his cock, and place my tongue under his balls, resting his beautiful cock on my forehead. I am not to move until I am told, at which time I must tip my open mouth up to him, allowing his cock head to fall against my tongue, without letting it drop. He then pumps my mouth until I am rewarded with his scrumptious cream. We get many unbelieving looks when we do this, and although I may be embarrassed, I know that if I fail him I will be punished. I do not want to fail my Master. I willingly submit to any punishment he sees fit to administer, but I am upset if he is angry with me. To lose Master’s love and guidance would crush my spirit.

I am punished regularly for slight infractions. He is disappointed with my imperfections, so I strive very hard to learn from him.

I was last punished severely on July 22, 2001. He came home early, and I did not hear him pull into the garage. I was not kneeling at the door, head downcast, legs spread, hands on my thighs with my pals upwards. As the door opened, I raced to my position, but it was too late.

My punishment was to include a fisting and a severe flogging with the Cat o’ Nine Tails whip.

First, I was led to Master’s basement dungeon, and ordered onto the examination table. This is a cushioned, three-way folding bench that raises and lowers. The frame is made of chrome tubes, so it is easy for him to bind me in any position necessary. Master instructed me to assume Position # 31, which is on my knees, my arms straight down below the surface of the table, with my face turned to the side and my cheek flat on the table. My ass must be jutting out towards him, so that he does not need to reach.

He then cuffed my ankles together, and tied my wrists to the sides of the table. I lay very still, awaiting the first caress from Master’s loving whip.

CRACK!

The first kiss of the whip stung me directly across both cheeks, sending a shiver up my spine and causing my toes to point, straining in the heels.

CRACK!

Landing in exactly the same place, Master’s whip flicked savagely across my butt. I knew now that he was sorely disappointed with me, and I felt ashamed. If only he would let me suck his wonderful cock….

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Three hard blows in rapid succession. I flinched with pain, my ankles rising a bit from the table, but I dare not whimper. My ass cheeks were stinging and growing hotter with each caress. Master paused for a moment, and then he changed hands, coming around so that I could see him behind me. He looked blankly at me, and I pleaded with my eyes for forgiveness. I only wished to please him, but the whipping was his way of showing me his love. I knew that he cared for me.

CRAAAACK!

The last blow is always the hardest, so that I may know when the whipping has reached its conclusion. Using both hands, Master drew back as if he were swinging a baseball bat at a 95mph fastball, and the final kiss swept over my reddened ass. A cry of pain caught in my throat, but I managed to let only a puff of air escape my lips.

“I love you, Master”, I said. This was permitted.

He did not speak. I remained still, awaiting the final stage of my punishment, the fisting. He went over to the wall, and removed the fisting harness he had made. It was a studded leather burdur escort affair, with straps that go around my thighs and hooking under the cheeks of my ass. Four additional straps ran from these loops, two in front and two in back, up to a collar around my neck. Once in place, the straps could be cinched tightly, forcing my ass to be spread wide apart. This apparatus also makes my asshole pucker out towards him.

Once I was fully strapped into the harness, Master began to slather me with lubricant. My ass cheeks were burning with pain, but he seemed oblivious to my torment as he began working his fingers inside me. Since this was meant as punishment, not pleasure, he did not take his time. He pushed and jabbed at my hole, forcing more fingers in with each thrust, deeper and deeper. I tried to relax, but it was difficult, as I knew I must press back towards him and not shy away from his intentions.

I felt him stop poking me with his fingers, and I knew he must have the fingertips on their way inside. From this point on, I could expect only a simple, slow, forward thrust. I knew he would not damage me, but if I were to be taught a lesson in obedience, I must receive a fisting I would not soon forget….or enjoy.

My legs stiffened as Master pushed forward. The pain began as I felt myself being stretched, first by his thumb, then his palm. I am permitted to cry out during a fisting, as long as I am not too loud.

“UUUHHHH!” I groaned, biting my lip. He was not quite fully in, which is the widest and most painful part of his fist. As good as it would soon feel to be clenching only his thick wrist, I knew the worst was yet to come….pulling back out.

At that moment, Master smacked me sharply across the ass with his free hand while driving his fist fully into me. I cried out again as his hand slid completely inside me. Now, his left hand massaging my thigh, the fingers of his right began massaging my prostate until I began to come erect. I knew he did not like this, but I had no control over it.

He did not say a word. I hoped that it would be over soon. I knew that the longer he stayed still, the tighter my asshole would clench around his wrist, making his exit excruciatingly painful.

Though it seemed like forever, eventually he began to twist his fist back and forth, the signal that it was about to be removed. As he pulled back, the bluntness of his fist quickly forced my anus to its widest, again causing me to cry out, just for a moment, followed by the relief of his fingers tapering back out. It was finally over. My punishment was complete. I would not soon forget my transgression.

Before I was released from my bonds, Master stated his desire to have my asshole. Once untied, I was to go immediately to the mattress and assume Position # 5. I would be on my knees, face down on the mattress, with my hands reaching back between my legs to hold my ass open for him.

I was then untied, and I stiffly, but quickly, walked to the sex mattress and placed myself on it, in position. My asshole was on fire, and very tender, even to my own touch. Master was feeling sadistic tonight. I knew that if he wanted my ass again so soon after such a severe punishment, I could expect no mercy. I was going to be fucked brutally.

With my back to him, I did not see his approach, nor did I see him remove his clothing. Still, I was sure that his massive 9+” cock was already erect and straining towards the ceiling. In a few short minutes I would feel its anger.

Master stepped onto the sex mattress as I patiently, obediently waited for his loving touch. Stepping behind me, he crouched down and gripped my waist with his strong hands. I quivered with the anticipation of accepting his magnificent penis inside my body. Silently, he bent at the knees, and his tool was first in my crack, the mushroom head searching, grinding against me. Then, suddenly, a hard thrust, and he was in me!

Oh, YES! My Master’s cock was inside my asshole, where it belonged!

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

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

Part Two! Thank you all for your feedback on the Part One! You are all great and I appreciate your diligence through the slow start. So, as promised, the next instalment is here!

Please enjoy! Xx

*****

Movie Night

Jacks: 2005

I let Raymond ahead of me to pick our seats. He heads straight for the back of the theater, which I appreciate. Just when I think that he’s going for the very last row, he quickly moves to the two seats by themselves on the left side of the isle. My buddies and I call these the “lovers chairs.” I feel the nerves hit my stomach again, the butterflies threatening to escape. There has to be a furious blush across my face. I’m suddenly very thankful for the dim lighting in the theater.

We settle into our seats and he immediately breaks into his candy, and I start in on the popcorn. It’s quiet, but far from awkward. It’s comfortable. I take notice to the fact that we’ve both put our drinks away from each other, leaving the middle armrest empty.

Why am I so nervous? This isn’t a date.

Even as I continue to repeat this in my head, I can’t help but feeling that I’m wrong. But it’s presumptuous of me. Just because I’m feeling this attracted to this boy doesn’t mean that he feels anything near the same for me. What am I feeling?

Stop overthinking!

The lights go down rather quickly. I’m thankful for the complete darkness. I steal a glance at him, even his profile is beautiful.

As the previews begin to play, something unexpected also begins- his commentary. For every trailer that plays, the jokes role, very quietly and only for me to hear. I try as hard as I can to stifle my laughter. I grip the armrest between us to keep my composure. My laughter gets caught in my throat as I feel his hand remove my fingers from the armrest and tangle them with his. My heart threatens to break through my rib cage.

I wasn’t wrong! I’m not alone in this!

Then the pull begins. Suddenly I just want to be closer to him. I shift in my seat so that I’m as close as the armrest will allow. I look up just in time to see the look of relief on his face before he looks over to me and gives me a beaming grin. My face matches his as I turn back to the screen. His commentary picks up right where is left off, and I’m in stitches. But, this time his warm breath on my ears feels much different than it had. It sends a shiver up my spine and goosebumps down my arm; it fuels the pull.

We’re mid-way through the movie, and I’m quite comfortable- even though we’ve both made ourselves as close to each other as we can manage with the damn armrest pushing into my ribs. His movement pulls my attention to him. He uses his other hand to pull the armrest back, taking the separation from between our seats.

He leans even closer to whisper that, “the damn thing hurt.”

Now our bodies are touching and I have to actively fight the pull that I still feel. I go back to pretending to watch the movie in an attempt to distract myself from how good the heat of his body feels next to me. I try to concentrate for about twenty minutes before I sneak another glance in his direction.

I turn and find that I’m staring into his beautiful brown eyes. They shine from the reflection of the screen, looking as if they’re on fire. I see the need that has to be a direct reflection of my own. As soon as he sees it, he moves so quickly that it takes my mind a few moments before I can process what’s happening. His hand tangles into my hair, he’s only bayburt escort centimeters from my face. His eyes are pleading. I don’t let myself think, I give in to the pull.

I close my eyes and I feel him inhale sharply as his lips meet mine.

Reunion

Jacks: 2017

He clears his throat, bringing me back to the current setting. I quickly release his hand and immediately miss his touch. I gesture toward the chairs in front of my desk, “make yourself comfortable.”

He follows my orders rather mechanically. I can’t blame him for being a bit uncomfortable. It’s been so long. A million and one questions cloud my mind as I take my place behind my desk.

Where did you go? Why did you leave? Did I do something? If I did, what was it? Can I make it right? Did you ever need me the way that I so desperately needed you? Was there- is there somebody else?

The last question makes me flinch a little, and I hope that he hasn’t noticed.

“So,” I begin as impartially and formal as I can with the man that has haunted my dreams for years, “How are you, Mr. Santiago?”

He coughs a laugh at the sound of his last name, “I’m well. I was nervous. Now I see that there isn’t a need for that,” the right side of his mouth comes up in a wry grin.

“Oh isn’t there?” I’m glad that we’re attempting lightheartedness.

His smile immediately falls, and the previous pain retakes it’s place on his beautiful face.

Shit. What did I do?

I quickly change the subject, “Hey, there’s a time and a place. It isn’t here or now,” I start, “but there is going to be one,” I clarify. I will get the answers that I need. But not now, “So, you got Harvard.”

It’s not a question, but he answers anyways, “Yes. Harvard. I graduated at the top of my class.”

My memory hasn’t done his beautiful face any justice. I have to look down at his resume that I’ve kept in front of me. This way I’m not gawking, “yes I see that. I’m surprised that it’s taken you this long to find us,” I raise my brow at him, challenging.

“I didn’t exactly have to find you. I’ve had my eye on M&A since I applied at Harvard,” He chuckles- it’s an addictive sound-” But my resume had some beefing up to do.”

When I look up, his eyes are narrowed at me. Almost accusatory. But he quickly looks at a spot over my shoulder so that I can’t make eye contact. I don’t need to see his eyes to know what he’s thinking. ‘Yeah, I had to beef up my resume with some wins, yet here you sit. A year younger than me, and somehow you’re the head of the firm. How does that work?’ It’s exactly what everybody thinks. It was blind faith on Monroe’s part- and the one good thing that my father ever did for me. But that doesn’t mean that it’s been all smooth sailing. From the second that I stepped into this office I’ve had to prove myself. I’ve had to prove that I deserve what I’ve got. And I’ve done a damn good job. Not a single loss to my name, and I keep to myself.

I’ve been quiet too long, “You’ve done a good job of it. Not a single loss. You’re good,” I slip in the complement in, and before I can stop myself I add, “I knew that you would be.”

When I meet his eyes again, they’re blazing.

Movie Night

Remmy: 2007

He’s laughing. So I don’t stop. My friends hate my sarcastic side comments through the trailers, but my beautiful boy enjoys it. I could not be more pleased. It gives me confidence that I’m not reading the situation wrong. He’s attracted bilecik escort to me. I wonder if he feels it, too- the magnetic pull. In a moment of pure bravery, I reach over to where his hand in gripping the armrest and tangle our fingers together. His laughter stops, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he gently squeezes my fingers in confirmation. He immediately shifts in his seat so that our arms are pressed more firmly together. I look up to meet his eyes, and I can’t fight my smile.

He returns my smile for a moment before he turns his eyes back to the screen. I lean in- a bit closer this time- and continue my tacky retorts to the clichés filling each trailer. But they’re not nearly as good as before. He doesn’t seem to notice that I’m distracted. All of my senses are consumed by him: his delicious smell, his hushed laughter, the heat radiating off of his body. I can’t focus. Even as the movie begins and we are silent. I can’t seem to pay any mind to the plot at all. All that I can think of is how badly I want to be closer to him.

He seems to feel the same. The closer I adjust myself to him, the closer he gets to me. The damn armrest digs into my ribcage. I have to get it out of my way. I whisper that it’s hurting me by way of explanation to why I’m moving it, but that’s not even half of it. Now there’s nothing keeping me from him. We’re as pressed together as public decency will allow. But the pull doesn’t stop. It isn’t satisfied. It wants more. I want more.

I can’t take my eyes off of him long enough to even pretend to watch the movie. The light coming off of the screen lights his face, making him look dark and mysterious. I try to commit his profile to memory: straight nose, shinning blue eyes, strong jaw, and those damn delicious looking full lips.

It takes me a moment to realize that his full lips are facing me. I meet his eyes for only a second before I can’t fight it anymore. I tangle my hands into his hair and pause not a hair’s breath from his lips, begging for his permission. He closes his eyes in surrender, and I can’t stand it any longer. My mouth is on his.

Finally.

I try to control myself, to be gentle and slow. But it seems that Jacks wants none of that. His kiss is hard and desperate. I don’t mind one bit. I open my mouth to him, and his tongue is immediately tangling with mine. My body feels as if it’s on fire as I pull his body to mine. But it still isn’t enough. I need to be closer to him. But not here. Not in public. It will only be a matter of time before somebody sees our indecency. We need to get out of here. But his mouth just feels so damn good on mine. I can’t stop the sensual movement of our lips.

Somebody somewhere behind us clears their throat, and I’m snapped out of the trance that my beautiful boy’s kisses have put me under. I pull far enough away from him to meet my eyes. His are wild with need. I register the hurt in them from my pulling away. Our breathing is ragged as I grab our jackets and his hand. He gives me a questioning look, but doesn’t hesitate to follow me down the stairs as quickly as my shaking legs will carry me. Once in the lobby, I slow my pace so we don’t attract any unneeded attention. I try to let go of his hand, but he only squeezes mine tighter. I look up at his flushed face, and he’s giving me a face-splitting grin with very kiss swollen lips.

I pick the pace right back up.

Once outside he asks, “where are we going.”

It almost stops me in bingöl escort my tracks. I hadn’t really thought it through. I just know that I have to be alone with him, “I’m not completely sure. I hadn’t gotten that far,” I admit.

We both start laughing, and I pull him to my truck. He doesn’t hesitate to get into the passenger side. I’m peeling out of the lot before he can finish buckling in. He doesn’t say anything in the short drive to a lot behind an abandoned strip a few blocks away. The silence doesn’t have time to get awkward. The anticipation is like electricity sparking in the air. I put my truck in park and before I even have a chance to toss my keys to the side, he’s made his way across the bench. He unbuckles my seatbelt for me and quickly pulls my body flush to his.

His mouth is on mine just as fierce as before. Within seconds my pants are uncomfortable, my erection straining against my zipper. His tongue tastes of movie theater butter, and I find myself immediately addicted to the taste that I’ve never before been fond of. But it’s mixed with a flavor that can’t be anything but 100% Jacks. He’s delicious. I release his hair and move them to his hips, guiding him to lay back. The movement gives me euphoric joy as it presses our crotches together. I’m pleased to learn that he’s just as turned on as I am.

I start to grind my pelvis into his- which sends the most delicious shock through my system- and he pulls back just long enough to moan, “Remmy.”

Remmy?

I’m not one for nicknames, but his lust filled rendition of my name is my new favorite.

I take a second to really look at him in this state: eyes wild, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, beneath me.

I press my lips against his again. This time slow, passionate in a different way than a few seconds ago. His lips move expertly against mine, “you’re good,” I can’t help but tell him, but then again, “I knew you would be.”

Reunion

Remmy: 2017

I can’t control my expression as he says to me my lustful confession from that night. It seems like a lifetime ago. Hell, it was a lifetime ago. And all that time has done nothing but make him more beautiful. My heart aches harder the longer that I look at him- but I can’t seem to stop. He’s trying his hardest to keep it professional, for which I am grateful. I struggle to follow suit. There is just so much that I want to say. But as he so well put it, there is a time and a place. The promise that he made after so justly pointing that out has my stomach in even tighter knots.

Speak you idiot, “thank you,” I quickly brush off his compliment and move on, “after graduation I started to train my eye.”

He cocks his head to the side, and I don’t think the gesture is suppose to be as alluring as I find it, “training your eye for what?”

Good. He’s sticking to the interview, “cases that will win, and the ones that…won’t. I need only a quick overview of a client before I decide if it’s a valuable use of my time or not.”

“You seem pretty proud of your methods. To what do you owe all of your success?” They way that he cocks his brow, I know that he is challenging me.

Bring it on Mr. Andrews. I clear my throat and sit back in my chair, a movement that may have come across too cocky to anybody else, but not Jack. I steeple my fingers together and rest my elbows on the arms of the chair, “I pride myself on being good at people.That being said, I know a winner when I see one,” I give him a very pointed look.”

“Do you, now?” He raises both eyebrows, and we’re back to lightheartedness. He returns my pointed look and replies, “I’d like to believe that I, too, have this talent. That being said,” he stands behind his desk and extends his hand toward me, “Welcome aboard Mr. Santiago.”

Holy shit.

What???

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

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

This story involves acts of both sex and romance between consenting adult males, so if that’s not allowed where you live then you should march in the streets. If you enjoy the story, I’d love to hear from you. Thanks for reading.

* * *

It wasn’t the explosion that alarmed him. It was the silence.

In the aftermath, as the dust–and metal, and body parts–settled, he heard nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a muffled, muted facsimile of the screams and sirens and shouts that surrounded him, surrounded them all.

Silence.

The explosion had ruptured his eardrums and so shocked his auditory nerves that he wouldn’t hear for days, and never again as well as he had before. As he looked around, trying to sort out what had happened, trying to move, he saw a silent film of devastation. Grizz, who had been at the big gun, took the worst of it. There was little left to be sent home; the biggest parts were still gripping the handles of the gun. A pink mist descended; he looked up to see where it came from, and knew that it was all that was left of Grizz and who knows how many other guys–he wasn’t sure who had been closest to the IED when it detonated.

He could smell burning. Oil, fabric, flesh.

Someone touched him on the leg, shook it hard. He couldn’t hear them shout his name, he couldn’t feel them pulling his legs to get him out of the burning remains of the transport. He felt himself moving, then spinning, and then darkness came as if his eyes had given up too.

Silence.

* * *

“Will? Will, can you hear me?”

Light. Too much light. And what was that? A voice?

“Will, I need to you to focus. Can you hear me?”

It was a voice. He could hear, a little. One side, anyway.

“I … ah–“

“No, no, don’t try to talk. You sucked in some bad fumes there. Your throat’s going to be a bit rough for a while. Can you open your eyes for me?”

He tried, but they were stuck. He felt a warm, wet cloth swab over his eyes, and then he could open, and blink, and try to focus.

“Good. Can you see okay?”

He nodded.

“Do you know where you are?”

He smiled weakly. Where else in the entire world would something like this happen to somebody?

“Afgha–,” he croaked out, painfully.

The nurse nodded once, and made a note on the clipboard.

“Well, you were, until about 5 days ago. You were brought here after the attack, and we’ve been waiting for you to come around. Welcome back, soldier.”

“Thanks,” he coughed, and then fell silent.

“I’ll let you rest. You have some work ahead of you, Will. But we’ll get you patched up and on your way as soon as we can.”

He lapsed back into unconsciousness, to experience an endless, silent replay of the explosion, as he had non-stop for the last 5 days.

A few hours later a buddy from his unit stopped by his bed. Their conversation was a simple one.

“Grizz?”

A shake of the head.

“Peters?”

A slow shake.

“Donnelly?”

A tear ran down the cheek as it rocked from side to side.

Silence.

* * *

The next morning, he was better able to hear, more willing to see, and eager to talk. He waited until the same nurse came by to check on him, and then he tried out his voice again.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he said, his voice sounding scratchy and higher than he remembered it being.

“Yes?” she asked, coming close to him, her head cocked, smiling.

“Juliet.” He said the word like a prayer, like a wish.

She squinted at him a moment, and then realized what he meant.

“Oh, your wife! Yes, of course. The doctor spoke to her the first night you were here, and then again after the surgery. She’s aware of your condition. In fact,” she leaned closer to him, speaking more quietly, “He said that she’s taking it real well.” She smiled, as if she knew this was something he was worried about.

He fixed her with a puzzled gaze. She paled.

“Oh–oh my. Has the doctor spoken to you? Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I assumed that–I marked on your chart that you were conscious and responsive, and when they see that they always come by to talk with you. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“What … is … it?” He pled with his eyes to be told, to know what it was that his wife of only a year was taking well.

“Let me get the doctor, honey,” she said, and in an instant was up and gone.

Advances in surgical technique have revolutionized battlefield medicine, but every human endeavor has its bounds. There was nothing the doctors could do to reverse the paralysis that would leave Will’s legs useless for the rest of his life. The considered him extremely “lucky,” however, in that his paraplegia did not seem to have completely disabled his lower abdominal systems. He was continent, could control his bowels, and there was a chance, his urologist assured him brightly, that he might someday regain sexual function.

Will did not feel lucky.

Heaped with bad news, he was shipped home for several months of rehab at a VA hospital near balıkesir escort his hometown–if you consider two states away to be “near.” Juliet joined him there, and was involved in his treatment, at least at first. She had been relieved to see that he looked pretty much the same as when she saw him off for his tour 6 months earlier. He had always been the most handsome man in the room, any room, and he still was: a shock of brown hair, clear golden-brown eyes, the wide smile and the broad shoulders. Just that now he was in a wheelchair. Forever.

He worked as hard at physical therapy as he worked at everything he did in life: school, jobs, the service. If he was going to be in a wheelchair, he was going to go strong. He lifted weights every day, building what had been a lithe and defined torso into a sculpture of muscle and tendon. He built up his endurance in the wheelchair, until the staff, inspired by his dedication, took up a collection for a racing chair so that he could rack up the miles smoothly. And his legs remained still.

As Will worked to regain his strength, Juliet’s focus turned to the family she had hoped to start. She pushed the urological team to come up with new options to restore his virility; surgery failed, Viagra left his heart fibrillating, an implanted pump would be useless without the muscles for ejaculation. She pushed and pushed and when that came to nothing she nagged and cried. Finally the team made one more suggestion: that she manually stimulate his prostate in order to encourage an erection and jump-start the ejaculatory system. It was a somewhat unlikely prospect, but it was the last thing they could offer.

“You want me to what?” she asked in a flat monotone.

“Mrs. Patchett, it’s a very simple procedure. You simply lubricate and insert your finger–“

“Oh my god you cannot be serious. Did you just use the word ‘insert’? He’s a man, for god’s sake!”

“Yes, Mrs. Patchett, he is. And this may help him feel even more a man. Once you have inserted your finger, you simply locate the prostate gland by–“

“I’m going to be sick! There’s no way I’m going to diddle my husband like a prom date. You people are out of your minds.”

“Please calm down. Now, if manual stimulation is out of the question, you can also use an electrical stimulator that you simply insert–“

“A dildo? An electric goddamn dildo? I can’t listen to any more of this. I’m leaving.”

And she did, leaving the urological team–and Will–out of options.

That night, the nightmare replay of the explosion was replaced with a new horror. Will found himself, in his chair, naked, surrounded by people he knew. As he focused in on them, he saw that they were friends of his from the army, from college, all the way back to high school. Then he noticed they were all naked, and sporting enormous erections. They laughed and pointed at his tiny, shriveled member as they stroked their own grotesquely large cocks. Meanwhile, Juliet made her way around the circle, pausing to lick or kiss or suck each prick, sighing and moaning as she went. Suddenly, the heat and noise rose to an unbearable pitch, and Will saw the cocks start to shoot. Long, flowing streams of white jetted out of every one, arcing high in the air and landing on him, covering with smelly, sticky spunk. He sat, soaked, in the middle, knowing that he would never experience sex again. He awoke in a sweat–a flaccid, panting sweat. He realized then–felt the truth of it in his gut–that he would never again experience sex.

Will eventually settled into a long-term rehab routine with a new therapist at the VA across the city he called home. Lucas was Will’s age, and they hit it off immediately, both as therapist and patient and, soon, as friends. After working in the clinic for a couple of weeks they started running together, Will in his racing chair and Lucas running barefoot alongside.

For the first time Will started to feel as strong as he had been before the explosion, and he sometimes could go hours without remembering that he was a paraplegic. His spirits were lifting. He felt it was time to push on something that Juliet had been unwilling to do.

“Come on, hon, just give it a try. For me?”

“No, Will. It’s disgusting.”

“But if it works, we could start a family. Do you really want to give that up?”

She looked at him, unconvinced.

“Look, it’ll be easy,” he said, as he lifted himself off of his chair and onto the bed. He pulled his sweats off, as well as his shirt, and he sat before her, naked. He moved his legs apart, and lay back a bit.

His body still had the power to move her. From his head down to his waist, he was completely normal–more than normal, in fact. The wheelchair work had built his upper body to a steely strength that was breathtaking; his pectorals were slabs of pure muscle, and his abs were tightly cut into an eight-pack. His cock, of course, he had not been exercising, but it was still the long, silky wonder that it had always been. She started to bartın escort think that perhaps she could figure out a way to make this work.

“Just give it a go, okay?” he pleaded.

“Oh, all right,” she finally said. “But I’m going to stop if it gets too weird.”

“Okay. Whatever you say,” he assured her.

She took the bottle of lube from him, and greased up her finger. She brought it to his anus, and began to push. Her finger suddenly slid in, all the way. He gasped and jumped a bit, and she panicked and pulled out.

“That was great! I could totally feel you in there! That’s a good sign, they said. It means that some of the nerves are still connected.”

But Juliet was looking at her finger, slick and shiny with lube, and at Will’s ass, spread wide and pink from the friction of his first penetration. She suddenly retched and bolted from the bed, to the bathroom, where she could throw up in peace.

Will was devastated. He slid back over onto his chair and wheeled to the bathroom. he pushed the door open, and saw her sitting on the edge of the bathtub, crying. She looked over at him, naked and pathetic, his pale, withered legs sitting hanging uselessly, his cock curled, flaccid, in his lap. She saw him for the first time as the sad case he was: he’ll never walk, never fuck, never do anything worth doing. And now there were tears rolling down his cheeks to complete the look.

“Juliet, I know it’s hard–“

“No, it’s not hard, and that’s the problem,” she spat at him. She saw this pain this caused him, and she backed off. A bit. “Look, I love you, but I can’t do this. I just can’t. I’m going to pack a bag and get out of here for a few days, and then we’ll work stuff out when I come back.”

She never came back.

* * *

Will waited for three days, knowing in his heart that she would not return. But he didn’t leave the house, in case she decided to do what she had said she would. By the time Lucas called to find out why Will had missed several therapy appointments, he had admitted to himself that it was over.

“She left? Just like that?” Lucas asked, in disbelief.

“Yeah. Just like that. I don’t know where she is, or if she’s even coming back for her stuff. I’ve just been sitting here, waiting.”

“You mean you haven’t left the house in three days? What have you been eating?”

“Oh, there was some stuff in the kitchen. It’s mostly gone now. Hey, I had to learn how to do this stuff on my own sometime, right? I guess now is the time.”

“Look, I’m going to swing by and see how you’re doing, okay? Just sit tight.”

“Lucas, there’s no need for that. I can take care of myself. If I’ve learned anything through this experience, it’s that.”

“I’d feel better if I could see for myself that you’re okay. I’ll be by in 15 minutes.”

Given that Will lived 20 minutes from the hospital, he was impressed by Lucas’s determination to get there in 15.

He was there 12 minutes later.

Will rolled to the door, opened it, and let in a distraught Lucas.

“Oh my god, Will, are you okay? What can I do?” Lucas paused to breathe. “Okay, so we know what’s first. You smell like the Green Bay Packers’ laundry hamper. We need to get you in the shower, pronto. Now, where’s the bathroom?”

Will chuckled at Lucas’s boisterous entrance, and pointed down the hall.

“Let’s roll,” Lucas called as he pushed Will briskly toward the bath.

The house had not yet been modified to accommodate Will’s chair, so he had indeed not been able to bathe himself without Juliet’s help. Arriving in the bathroom, Lucas started the water going, and then he helped Will undress and lifted him out of his chair and onto a jury-rigged shower bench. Slipping into his professional role, Lucas began to tend to Will.

“Dude, I can wash my own hair,” Will protested as Lucas worked his scalp into a froth.

“Oh, sorry!” Lucas laughed. “I got carried away. I’ll step out now and leave you to it.”

“Will you stay in the room, though? It’s been pretty lonely here.”

“Of course. I just feel so bad about what happened with Juliet. I don’t mean to pry, but–okay, I’m going to pry. What the fuck happened?”

“I think it was building for a while. She really wanted a family, and this,” he pointed to his legs, “means that I can’t give her that. I guess she kind of snapped. I’m not the man she married.”

“That’s horrible. You’re every bit the man you have always been. Anyone can see that.”

“Well, the one who needed to see it the most didn’t, so now that’s over.”

Will finished his shower, and Lucas helped him dry and dress.

“Look, Will, you can’t stay by yourself in this house. Nothing’s been set up for you to live alone here. You can’t get your chair near enough to the shower, and the kitchen needs to be reworked, and there’s no way you can get to the second floor.”

“Yeah, but what am I supposed to do, check into a motel? I can’t afford that.”

Lucas knew he shouldn’t, but he went ahead anyway.

“Come batman escort stay with me.”

Will looked up at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“I said, come stay with me. My place is all set up for a chair. My older brother was in one–he’s the reason I went into physical therapy. He lived with me for years.”

“But there’s no reason why you should have to take care of me. I mean, your brother, that’s one thing, that’s family, but–“

“And Juliet was your family, and she decided not to do it. So, here I am, and I want to help. Please take me up on it.”

Will considered this. It had been depressing being alone in the house, not to mention frustrating–the coffee was on a high shelf, which he tried to reach for two days before grabbing a broom and whacking everything off of it at once. It would be a relief not to have to do everything himself.

“Okay, for one night. But tomorrow I’m going to get some stuff changed around here so I can be here on my own again.”

“Deal. Now, what do you need to take?”

Will gathered up clothes, and medicine, and his toiletry kit, and was pretty much ready to move in two minutes–like a good soldier. Last to go in was the laptop, which reminded him that he hadn’t checked his email since before Juliet left. He opened the laptop and saw that she was still logged in. Her email was up on the screen. He was about to log her out when a phrase caught his eye:

“He wakes up screaming, which is bad enough, but when he doesn’t wake up it’s even worse, because he thrashes around. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me.”

What the fuck? Juliet wrote this to her sister, about a week ago. There was more, much more:

“They say that PTSD shows up about four to six months after this kind of injury. That’s what it’s been, and I’m noticing changes. PTSD is the only thing that explains his anger at being paralyzed.”

“He’s just wasting away. I mean, his legs just dangle there. I cry myself to sleep every night thinking of what he was when I married him.”

And, finally:

“He’s sinking into depression, and once that happens I know I won’t be safe here. It’s one thing not to be able to have the kids I’ve always wanted, but it’s something else to feel like my life is at risk.”

Hot tears filled Will’s eyes, and ran down his cheeks. Was he really the monster that Juliet claimed he was? Could he have hurt her in his sleep? Was he “sinking”? His pride in what he had accomplished despite his injuries evaporated, and was replaced with shame and doubt and guilt. He had ruined his marriage. He had driven her away.

“Ready to go, Will?” called Lucas from the front door.

Will cleared his throat, and replied.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way. Just needed to grab a couple last things. Be right there.”

He shut the laptop and rolled down the hall.

The drive to Lucas’s house was less than an hour, and they got there just before dinner time. They stowed Will’s pack in the guest room, which had been Lucas’s brother’s, and then settled on the back porch with a six-pack and a sunset. They were polishing off the beer before either spoke.

“So, what do you want to eat?” Lucas asked, in the most upbeat tone he could muster.

Will was silent.

“She left me, dude. She just left.”

“Yeah, she did. Do you think she’s coming back?”

Will snorted. “Hell no. Once she does something, it stays done. She’s gone 6 years not talking to her cousin because she borrowed a dress of hers without asking. Something like this? Never. She’s gone for good.” Will tipped up his third beer. “And this is fine for dinner. Chewing is overrated anyway.”

“You have to eat. I’m guessing you’re not vegan?” Lucas grinned.

“Heh. No, not really. Anything would be fine. I’m not picky, I’m Army.”

“Well, I’ll try to scare up something that will be better than MREs. And I’ll grab another of these,” he said, picking up the paperboard beer holder.

Lucas grilled, Will ate, they both drank. And they were thankful for the company–Will because he needed to know that someone would be willing to stay in his presence despite the risks, and Lucas because his house had felt empty since Michael finally succumbed to his illness last year. He enjoyed having someone to care for, and Will was smart and funny and easy to get along with.

A cat entered the screen porch, meowing insistently. Will reached a hand down and rubbed its head, and it purred contentedly.

“Cat person, huh?” he asked Lucas.

“No, not really. Michael was, though. She was sort of a companion animal for him. She was always with him, even after he ran over her tail a couple of times. Since he’s been gone, she just wanders around complaining at me.”

“She’s nice. What’s her name?”

“Pebbles. But if you want her to come, all you need to do is open a can of something. I gave her tuna once, and from then on she hears the can opener, she’s there. Drives me up the wall. But she reminds me of Michael, and having her around is like a link to him.”

“You miss him,” Will said simply, not a question.

Lucas sighed. “I do. Even though I took care of him most of my life, he was always my big brother. After our parents were gone, he was all I had.”

Will raised his glass–they had switched to whiskey sours after dinner–and said, “To Michael.”

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I’m so sorry that this has taken so long. I’ve been incredibly busy with school. I’m not sure whether this will be the ending that everyone has been hoping for or not. However, I hope you enjoy it. I won’t be writing for a while after this is posted because I’ll be finishing up my last year at college. Sorry! Let me know your thoughts as always. Thank you for your time!

I quit my job. I just quit with no warning and no plan. It was two days ago after I got back from Brawnee Falls. Originally, I planned on using my remaining vacation time as “me time”. Then I realized that I didn’t really want to spend time with “me” right now. So I called my office and planned to end my vacation early. I started that day like any other. I wasn’t happy with my job, but it paid the bills and I was good at it. However, that day, everything felt wrong. Everything that had previously irritated me felt increased tenfold.

I started thinking Why am I here? What purpose is this serving? I deserve better than this. If the whole Bryson debacle taught me anything, it’s that I deserve to be happy. I decided right then that I wouldn’t ever be happy with my life as a whole if I was unhappy with any aspect of it. I needed to find work that made me feel purposeful. Work would never be a party, but it could at least feel better than this. I got up from my desk and moved towards my boss’s office. We had a very brief discussion. I had never had much of an effect at the office because I had been so unhappy there. He didn’t argue to keep me, but he did say that he would miss such a hard worker. I would work for the next two weeks and then my time would be my own. After I got out of work that day, I called Alex.

I heard Alex’s voice say “Hello?”

“I quit my job.”

“Well, hello then. I think that’s a good thing. You hated it anyway. Do you have any idea what you’re going to do?”

“Not exactly. I decided today that I wanted to quit so I just…did it. I’ve never made a decision like that before. It’s kind of exhilarating. I’ve been thinking about it, though. I have enough savings to last me for a while. I’m going to take my time and look for a job that really interests me. I think I might like to do something more in the lines of advertising and less direct PR. I don’t really know, though.” I had been thinking about it ever since I quit that day. I enjoyed the marketing aspects of my job. There was something else that I’d been thinking about and I brought that up to Alex. “I also think I might want to move out of the city?”

“And go where?” Alex asked

“I don’t know. Anywhere. I’ve been thinking that it might be nice to move a little closer to home. It was really nice seeing my family.”

“Then, do it! Move here to Brawnee Falls, Noah. You can be happy here. I’ve almost got 75% of the town smiling at me in public. I’m making so much progress.” Alex joked.

“You know I can’t move to Brawnee Falls, Alex. Bryson is in Brawnee Falls. I just meant somewhere near there.” I finished with a cringe. It still hurt when I said his name.

“Oh, did he get Brawnee Falls in the divorce? That’s ridiculous, Noah. This is your hometown, too.” Alex huffed.

“I’ll think about it.” I said, but I knew that I wouldn’t think about it. I wasn’t ready to move back to Brawnee Falls and see Bryson every day.

I got off the phone with Alex right as I was arriving at my apartment. After I entered my apartment and closed the door, I sighed and looked around. My apartment was kind of a mess. I suppose it was some sort of analogy for how my heart and mind were at the moment. Being that my mission was to stop just accepting unhappiness, I decided to clean up. For the past couple nights, I had been sitting here sulking and thinking of Bryson.

After I cleaned up, I began my search for a new job. I did research into different jobs and decided that I was definitely looking for something in the marketing/advertising field. The next two weeks passed pretty quickly. Besides researching potential jobs, I had to research places to live. I knew I didn’t want to stay in Chicago. I wasn’t happy here and I had very little tying me here besides my apartment, for which I had to find a sub-letter. I talked to Alex multiple times and he always tried to persuade me to move back to Brawnee Falls, even going so far as to give my name and number to a friend of his who owned an advertising agency in the town over. I could live in Brawnee Falls and commute there in 15 minutes. I was tempted, but then I would consider the pain that would accompany seeing Bryson again and I would reconsider. Finally, I decided that it couldn’t hurt to call the owner and get an idea of what the job would entail. The owner’s name was John and I could tell 5 minutes into the conversation that this job was an awesome opportunity. It was a better salary and more interesting work. John seemed great and we really got along. He offered me the job, but I wasn’t ready to commit. I asked him if I could think about it and get back to him. I hung up the phone and sat on my floor. I had already ardahan escort started packing some stuff up and, as I looked around my apartment, I realized just how alone I was. I deserved to be around people that loved me. I had so much waiting for me in Brawnee Falls: my parents, my brother, and my newfound friendship with Alex. I didn’t have to see Bryson if I didn’t want to. I could live in the town that the agency was in and just drive the 15 minutes to go see my family. I could insure that Bryson wasn’t there when I went to visit. I had made my decision. I was going to live my life for me now. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that I would eventually see Bryson, but I would cross that bridge when I came to it. I called John back and accepted the job. I planned to start in a month, which gave me enough time to sublet my apartment and find an apartment down there.

I called Alex to tell him the good news.

“You took the job? So you’ll be living in Brawnee Falls?”, he asked.

“No. I’m going to live in Fairfield, where the agency is, but I’ll come see you guys all the time.”

“Noah, I know I’ve been pushing you towards this. But are you sure you’re ready?” he asked, with concern in his voice. “You know what, Alex? If I don’t do it now, I never will. I want to do this and I’m not going to let Bryson affect my decisions anymore. You heard what happened. He screwed up, not me. It’s been a month. He knows where I live. If he wanted me back, he would have done something. He wasn’t ready to come out. I can’t blame him. It’s not like I’m open about my sexuality either. I just thought that it meant more, you know? I need to get over him, for good this time. He’s my brother’s best friend. I’ll never be able to avoid him entirely.” I said with a confidence I didn’t know I had. I believed the words as I spoke them. I loved Bryson, but I couldn’t let him destroy me.

“That’s good. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to take a week and find someone to sublet your apartment and then you come down here and stay with me until we can find you a place in Fairfield. You can hide out from Bryson if you want, but I want to hang out with you. Plus, I never liked the idea of you all alone with no friends up there in Chicago.” I laughed at Alex’s mother hen behavior.

“Ok, Mom. Sounds good.”

“You’re a smart ass. I don’t know why I’m friends with you. I’m a saint, I guess” Alex joked.

“Goodbye, Saint Alex” I said and hang up.

It only took me a week to get my apartment sorted out. I packed all of my stuff in my car. It was amazing how little belongings I actually had. I had rented a furnished apartment, so I only had knick-knacks to move. I would have to buy all new furniture when I got down to Fairfield. Maybe my mom could help me find that stuff. The thought of my mom sprucing up my apartment made me really happy. It gave me a sense of home that I hadn’t had in a really long time.

As I drove to Brawnee Falls, I considered my future. I needed to be open about my sexuality. I’d always thought that being open was shoving it down peoples’ throats. I never wanted attention and I thought that, by admitting I was gay, I would be drawing everyone’s attention to me. I never wanted to be defined by my sexuality. That was my biggest fear. I never wanted to be described as “gay” because that wasn’t all that I was. Now, however, my experiences had taught me that, while I still don’t want to be described only as “gay, it’s nothing to be ashamed. I should be proud of who I am. Yes, I am a gay man. I’m also a smart, strong, creative, loving, caring, friendly, and funny man. The right people would describe me with the right adjectives. And I shouldn’t worry about the wrong people. They could describe me however they want because I won’t listen long enough to know. Brawnee Falls may not be ready for me to be gay, but I was ready to be gay in Brawnee Falls. If Alex could do it, then I could too. Granted Alex wasn’t from Brawnee Falls, so there would be significantly more scandal once people found out that one of Brawnee Fall’s own was a homosexual. I can’t even imagine the uproar that would occur if Bryson ever came out, which was unlikely.

I arrived at back in Brawnee Falls approximately a month after I’d left in such an emotional flurry. I felt a little tug on my heartstrings, but I wasn’t as destroyed as I thought I’d be. I was learning more and more that I was stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. When I got to Alex’s house, I grabbed my overnight bag and walked to the door. I knocked on the door and waited. I heard the shuffling of foot and a muffled curse as he ran into something. The door opened and all I could see was Alex’s big smile and his outstretched arms. I dropped my bag and accepted a big hug. It was the first time I’d seen Alex since the whole Bryson debacle. Although we’d kept in touch and I considered him to be my best friend at the moment. As I stepped back from the hug and was reminded of just how attractive Alex was, I cursed my stupid mind and heart for not being sensible artvin escort and just falling in love with Alex. He was clearly the better option. Alas, the heart wants what it wants. Better men than I have tried and failed to change their hearts.

“How are you, kid?” Alex asked as he grabbed my bag from the floor and dragged me inside.

“I’m…alright, I guess.” I said.

“Well, that’s enthusiastic.” Alex deadpanned.

“I’m really actually fine. It hurts. Of course it does. It was like your favorite fairytale coming true only to crash around you later. I’m surprising myself, though. I’m stronger than I thought.”

“Of course you are. You’re a strong person, Noah. You can get over him, assuming you actually want to get over him. There’s no chance of reconciliation?” Alex asked hopefully. Alex had strangely always been a supporter of Grayson. He understood Grayson’s shortcomings, but he always wanted to see the best in people. He always said that he felt possibility for Grayson and me. I didn’t share his optimism, but I wanted to.

“I don’t think so. Who knows? I didn’t think there was a chance of me sleeping with him either and look how that turned out.”

“Touché. Let’s go get something to eat.” Alex said while putting his arm around me.

For the next week, Alex and I looked at apartments around my workplace. Everything was either too small, too shabby, or the apartment building was inhabited by creatures from the blue lagoon. Not exactly what I was looking for. I was getting very disheartened.

As we were driving back from looking at an apartment that looked like it belonged on Law and Order, I started seriously reconsidering my decision to move out here. Was it stupid? Was I doing the right thing? Would I be happ-

“STOP!” I practically screamed.

Alex jammed on the brakes. Thank god there was nobody on the road behind us. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the window. I was looking at my home. In front of the car was a two-story Victorian house that was the perfect size with a wraparound porch. The most perfect part about it was the “For Sale” sign in the front yard. It looked old, but recently renovated. I walked up to the house and felt an instant connection. As I walked up the stairs and ran my hand along the railing, I was enraptured by the tale I had spun only a couple months ago involving Bryson, me, and our family on a wraparound porch that was very similar. Perhaps what I liked most about this house was that it reminded me of him. Maybe not healthy, but I didn’t have to admit that to anyone but myself. As I pulled myself out of my reverie, I looked over at Alex.

“Is this the one?”

“I think so. I need to call the agent. I want this house.”

“You haven’t even seen the inside. What if it’s falling apart?”

“Well, then, I know a strapping young gentleman, and by that I mean you, that will help me fix it up.” I looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Alright. Let’s go back to my place. You can call the agent on the way.”

I placed the call to the agent and we made plans for me to see the house the very next day. It was perfect because I really wanted to get things settled before I started work the day after next. After I hung up with the agent, I went into the kitchen to find Alex. He was working on dinner.

“Well, I have plans to go see it tomorrow. Want to come?”

“Sure, if you go before I have to work at 3.” He said while stirring the noodles.

“I never understood your work hours. People really go to a strip club at 3 in the afternoon?” I questioned.

“You’d be surprised.” Alex laughed.

“Honestly, Alex, why are you working there? I don’t mean to insult you, but you’re so smart. Why aren’t you doing something more than being a bartender?” I asked. It wasn’t especially tactful, but I was stumped as to why Alex was working at a job that is so below his intellectual capabilities.

“I’m just in transition, I guess. I can’t figure out what I want out of my life. One day, I want to be a writer. The next day, I want to be a travel photographer. I’m too varied. I’ll figure it out eventually, though.” Alex shrugged.

I didn’t have anything to say to that, so I moved on. We talked about music, history, and movies. After a delicious dinner, we grabbed our glasses of wine and sat on the couch. We sat facing each other and talked about our hobbies. As our conversation tapered off, our eyes met. I was overwhelmed by how much we had in common and the urge to just be with someone who cared. We both leaned forward and our lips met. His lips were soft and warm. He was a good kisser.

“So…that was…” I stammered.

“Yeah, there was nothing there, was there?” Alex finished.

“No. I’m sorry. I wanted there to be something there, but there’s just no…spark. God, that’s so cliché.” I winced.

“It’s fine, Noah. We’re friends. If there was something romantic between us, that would be an added bonus. I’m just happy to have you as a friend.”

“Alright, I’m going bodrum escort to bed. We’re meeting the real estate agent at the house at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning.”

I hugged Alex and went to the guest room. As I lay in bed, I thought of Bryson. I haven’t seen him in over a month and he still lingers in my life. I was doomed. I just have to accept my fate. Maybe once I’ll get the house, I can buy 37 cats and turn into the crazy old man with a bunch of cats. I rolled over and tried to fall asleep. I had a big day tomorrow.

In the morning, Alex and I met the real estate agent, Ashley, outside the house. She was a kind, middle-aged woman in a skirt suit. I got the same feeling I got yesterday when I drove by the house. It felt like a place that had meaning for me. I didn’t know why.

We walked in the front door and we were met with a small foyer that had a hallway with arches leading to the living room and dining room and a swinging door leading to the kitchen. There was a small bathroom downstairs, as well. There was a wooden staircase leading upstairs where there were two bedrooms and a bathroom. Every room was beautiful. The house had wooden floors throughout, except the wonderful tile floors in the bathrooms. Alex and I commented on each room and planned where furniture could go. I decided then and there to take the house. I knew these decisions were generally supposed to be more well thought out, but I’d been making well thought out decisions for the majority of my life and look at where that got me. I was standing in the living room while Ashley went to grab the paperwork when I felt arms surround me from behind.

“You’re going to be very happy here. It’s a beautiful house. Ashley told me that it was just completely redone.” Alex said as he hugged me.

“Thank you.” I said as I put my hands on the arms wrapped around my shoulders.

We heard a little gasp and turned around to see Ashley standing there. I panicked. I had never let someone in Brawnee Falls see me with a man. This was a huge turning point. I decided not to be ashamed of it, though. Even though Alex and I weren’t technically a couple, I had nothing to hide. I stared Ashley in the eye and dared her to question us.

“I didn’t realize you guys were a couple! Oh, that’s so exciting! You guys are too cute. This house is perfect for a young couple. The neighborhood has a lot of kids too, if you are ever planning on adopting. Although, I read that a lot of gay couples are hiring surrogates nowadays.” Ashley gushed.

I moved to correct her about our relationship status, when Alex kissed me on the cheek and said, “We’re still deciding on kids, but we love the house. It’s the perfect place to start our life together.”

I gawked at him and noticed the mischievous glint in his eye. He was playing a prank on poor sweet Ashley. I figured there was no harm in it so I played along. I hugged, flirted, and stared adoringly in all the right places. Ashley was dutifully charmed by our pretend love. She left the room and came back with all of the paperwork in her hand.

“Well, everything looks to be in order. Only one more thing, the renovator of the house had one stipulation in selling the house. He wants to meet the people that are buying it beforehand to make sure that they’re good people.” I panicked once again at the thought of some burly construction worker denying me my house because we were a gay couple. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ve just called him and discussed the fact that you two are homosexuals and he doesn’t care. He said he just wants people who will treasure the house. I think you’ll pass that test with flying colors. We’ll meet at the house again tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”

We made plans to meet tomorrow at 10 in the morning. I worried the whole night. After Alex went to work, I sat on the couch and thought of a laundry list of things that I could do wrong tomorrow. They ran the gamut from throwing up on the renovator to setting the house ablaze accidentally. Completely ridiculous, but still in the realm of possibility. I finally wore myself out to the point that I could retire to bed. In the morning, I awoke with renewed energy and confidence. I would get this house if it killed me.

We met at the house and Alex and I resumed our loving couple act. Alex thought it was funny and I obliged because I thought it was harmless. It seemed to truly fascinate Ashley. We were hugging and discussing our plans for children, when I heard someone clear their throat. I turned and my arms fell to my sides as all the blood left my face. Standing there was Bryson Ganton, love of my life, with an equally shocked look on his face. I saw the pain in his eyes as he looked from me to Alex. Oh god, Ashley told him we were a gay couple and he walked in on us planning our children’s names. He doesn’t know this is just a game. As I looked back into his face, he put up a stony wall. He moved into the room and said, “Well, this won’t take as long as I thought. I know these two. They’ll be great homeowners. Very happy together. Go ahead, Ash. Sell it to them. I wish them the best.” He said the last part with a little bitterness as he was heading out of the door. I heard the front door open and close. I couldn’t take it so I ran after him. As I pulled open the front door, I saw Bryson resting his head on his arms on the hood of his truck.

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

I’ve always thought of myself as being straight. Yet, here I am sitting on a chair in your kitchen, with your hands on the back of my head forcing your hard cock deep inside my throat, while my middle finger slides in and out of your asshole, fucking it. I smell the musky odor of your crotch as you finally bottom out inside me and your balls slap against my chin. How did I let you talk me into this? If I’m so straight, why is my dick so hard?

You pull your prick out of my mouth and caress my cheeks. “Would you like me to talk dirty to you?”

I nod my head yes.

Your eyes gleam. “Kiss my cockhead, you dirty little cocksucker. You love having my shaft shoved between your sexy lips, don’t you?”

I can feel my cheeks getting hot from blushing. I give your cockhead a soft kiss on the tip, then I wrap my lips around the head and slowly slide my tongue along the underside, back and forth, teasing you. I taste your salty, slightly sour precum in my mouth, and feel it coating my lips. My middle finger inside your ass must be hitting your prostate, because you groan and rapidly pump just your cockhead between my lips. I tighten my lips and apply more pressure to the silky skin of your head as it slips in and out, my lips kissing the tip on the outstroke and then sliding over the ridge of the helmet as you push back in.

You reach inside my shirt and knead my shoulders, then work lower onto my shoulder blades. I moan. The vibration from the moaning must feel good on your cock because you grunt and thrust your shaft deep inside my throat. I’m gagging a bit, but it feels good to be giving you so much pleasure, and even better to have my back muscles rubbed, taking away the soreness from my workout at the gym today.

I remember how we met at the gym today, when you offered to spot me while I bench-pressed. I remember how I started to get a bit hard, looking up at the weights and seeing the bulge in your shorts as you stood over me, your hands poised to catch the heavy bar laden with weights, your eyes giving my crotch an amused look and then grinning at me while I blushed in confusion. I remember how we talked afterwards, and your deep voice oh-so-innocently suggested I come to your house and have a beer with you. I remember the knowing, not-so-innocent gleam in your eye when I hesitantly accepted.

I snap out of my reverie when you say, “Unnh. You better stop sucking, or you’re gonna have a mouth full of cum. Or do you want to take my cum inside your slutty little mouth?”

I shake my head no, which is a bit of tactical mistake, since your cock is still inside my mouth and the vibration from shaking my head is liable to release your sperm.

You give one last pump, then pull out. “Stand up.”

I stand, and you slide my shirt off, then lean in to kiss me.

I turn my head aside, refusing.

You laugh. “You’re OK with my prick shoved between those sexy lips, but my tongue is too intimate?”

It sounds kind of silly when you put it that way, so when you press against me and push your tongue against my lips, I part them for you and your tongue slips inside. It’s not a gentle kiss. You’re fucking me with your tongue, letting me know you’re in charge here. I let you take me in my mouth. I let you push your cock against my groin. I let one of your hands reach around me and knead my aching back while the other unzips aksaray escort my pants and slips inside. You fuck me with your tongue and stroke my stiff cock while I wonder at how you managed to get me to agree to allow all these intimate, dirty things to be done to me.

You quit kissing me and say, “Turn around and let me rub oil on your back. Put your hands on that countertop.”

I do so.

You open a cabinet and take out a bottle of vegetable oil, then step behind me. “Spread your legs.”

I look over my shoulder. Oh, no. Why does he want me to do that? “I — I don’t think I should –”

You slap my ass hard enough to make it sting. “I said spread them, bitch.”

I meekly comply, opening them a bit for you.

“That’s better, you little tart. Any more backtalk, I’ll swat your ass again.” You put your strong hands on my inner thighs and push, and I spread them wider. I watch over my shoulder as you pull your T-shirt over your head, then unbutton the waistband of your pants. The pants drop to the floor, and now you’re naked except for the socks on your feet. Your kick the pants free of your feet, then step between my legs and rub your stiff dick against the cotton sheathing my hard buttocks. You kiss my cheek and say, “Better. Look at my little virgin blush. Never had a man do this to you, hunh?”

I shake my head no.

You keep rubbing your cock into my ass while you open the bottle of oil and drizzle some onto my back. You start rubbing it in, your strong hands grabbing and kneading my shoulders and spine and the sides of my ribcage.

“Oohh,” I say. “Don’t stop. It feels so good.”

You reach around and rub some oil onto my cock and start to stroke it. You press your chest against my back, your skin hot from the pumped up metabolism you get after a workout. Your other hand slides around to my front and rubs oil onto my tiny nipples while you kiss my neck.

“Huuh,” I grunt. “That feels good. Please don’t stop.” I close my eyes and moan.

You rub my nipples until they get hard, as your cock keeps rubbing into my ass and you stroke my dick. Then you unbutton my pants and slide them off me.

You put your lips to my ear and whisper, “Bend over.”

“What — why do you want –”

“I want to rub your ass, that’s all. Do you want me to slap you again?” You push down on my back, and I reluctantly bend over. I feel so vulnerable, naked and gleaming with oil, bent over a countertop with my legs parted and your hard cock pressing against my asscheek, but it’s exciting, too. I’m hard as a rock, and waiting for your hands to touch my ass and make my buns shiny with oil, too.

You step back a bit and pour oil on my lower back. A lot of oil. It runs down over my buttocks and down my asscrack, and some of it trickles down my legs, tickling my leg hair. Your warm hands cup my buttocks for a moment, then you begin spreading the oil all over my butt and my hips. You stroke my cock and I wiggle my hips with pleasure. Your other hand presses into my lower back, easing the tension from the workout.

Your hand slides down from my lower back and into the cleft between my partly opened cheeks. I gasp from the shock. A finger starts circling my hole.

“Oh, no,” I say. “Not there. Please.”

You pull your hand out, and I feel a moment of relief. amasya escort Then you swat my ass hard.

“OW!”

“I said no backtalk. Want another slap, bitch?”

“Please. Don’t. I’ll be quiet.”

“You better.” Your hand invades my cleft again, and now your finger is pushing against my hole. I try to escape the pressure, but I’m bent over with my hips pressed against the countertop and there’s nowhere to go. Your finger slips inside, and I bite my lip against the pain. I don’t say anything, though — my buttocks must be red already from the two slaps you gave them, and I don’t want to provoke another.

You start pushing inside. “Do you like my finger inside your virgin hole?”

I stay silent, blinking back tears.

“Do you want me to take it out?”

I nod.

Your finger slides out.

I sigh in relief, thinking you’re done, but then you start pushing your cock between my cheeks.

“No, please — not in my ass.” I tense, waiting for another slap, but it doesn’t come.

You grasp my hips. “I won’t put it inside you, I promise. I just want to slide it up and down between those sweet cheeks of yours. It’ll feel good, I promise. OK?”

I look over my shoulder and meet your eyes. “I — I — I guess so.”

“Good girl. You’ll enjoy this.” You begin sliding your hard cock up and down my slit, and you’re right. It does feel good. It feels so sexy having your cockhead brush against my rosebud, over and over, while I’m bent over and vulnerable and giving you such pleasure. You’re grunting and thrusting, and your hips and hard belly are sliding up and down my buttocks, warming them. You press your hand against one of my legs, and I take the hint and let you lift it up and place the knee on the countertop. This opens my asscheeks even wider, and it feels so sexy and erotic to be open and waiting for the strong hard man who’s behind me, taking his pleasure.

Your cockhead pauses in the middle of a stroke, pauses on my asshole, and now you’re grasping your shaft and rubbing your cock in circles around my hole and muttering, “Does this feel good, slut? Do you like my cockhead slipping around your sweet puckered hole?”

I groan with pleasure. “Yes. Yes, rim me. I like feeling your cockhead against me.”

“Is your sweet boypussy tingling?”

“Oh, god, yes. Don’t stop.”

And then you start pressing in.

“What the fuck? You promised you wouldn’t.”

The pressure increases. “I just want to put the head inside. Unnh. Unnh. It won’t hurt, I promise. Open up for me, dammit. Take my head inside your ass.”

I wriggle and try to stop you, but I’m helpless. You’ve grabbed my knee that’s up on the countertop and you’ve pinned it in place. And, you’ve got your other hand pressing down on my back. And, you’re right, it does feel good despite the mounting pressure. God help me, it feels so sexy to be vulnerable and waiting to take your cock inside me like a woman.

“OK,” I gasp. “But just the head. Be gentle. Please.”

You press harder, and your cockhead pops inside me. You pause with it buried inside me.

“Unnh. Ow. Ow. Arrg,” I grunt. “It hurts. You lied.” I look over my shoulder into your grinning eyes.

“I didn’t lie. It doesn’t hurt me a bit.”

“You lying son-of-a-bitch!”

“Shhh. OK, I’ll take it out.” antalya escort

Your cockhead slips out, and I sigh in relief. But then I feel more oil drizzling onto my open hole, and you slip inside again.

You release the hand that’s been pinning my spine to the countertop, and rest your chest on my back and whisper in my ear, “Is it feeling better?”

And you’re right. It doesn’t hurt so much. It’s actually starting to feel good, having you inside me.

You murmur, “Do you like being my woman? Do you want my cock in your ass?” You kiss my neck and stroke my hair, and your other hand slips between my hips and the countertop and touches my now flaccid cock. My cock stirs.

“Yes,” I hear myself saying. “Yes, I like being your woman.”

“Good. Now let me put some of the shaft in your pussy. You’ll let your man do that, won’t you? You want me to feel good, right?”

I sigh, loving the feel of your hand on my stiffening cock. “OK. But, please be gentle.”

“OK. Here we go. I’m going to start fucking you slowly. Tell me if it’s going too fast.”

It feels surreal. A few hours ago, I was a straight man working out in a gym, and now I’m oiled up and bent over, and I’m telling you to fuck my ass, take me like a woman. How did you manage to talk me into this?

You start pushing into my ass. It stings a little, but I’m starting to feel a warmth and tingling in my core spreading out to my extremities as my dick responds to your hand sliding up and down. You inch inside, bit by bit, until you bottom out. You begin rubbing oil on my balls as you slide all the way out except for the tip of your cock.

“Beg for it,” you say. “Beg me to fuck you.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

You grasp my hip with your free hand and plunge inside. I hear a slapping, squishing noise as you bottom out and your hard belly smacks against my buns. You start fucking me, pumping in and out, slowly at first then picking up the pace. “Are you my bitch?” you ask.

“I’m your bitch.”

“Take my cock, slut. Take it all the way inside your cunt.” You take your hand off my cock and grab one of my shoulders, seeking more leverage so you can drive your hard prick as deeply as possible inside my ass. You’re grunting and sweating and slamming into me at top speed, and I’m bent over and taking my man’s lust, letting him fill me with his hardness. I love being your woman. I love being taken roughly and unleashing your desires.

“I’m cumming,” you shout. “Aaaah.” You grab my hips with both hands and thrust as you cum deep inside me, shooting your sperm into my depths. “Ooooh.” You sigh and collapse on my back. Your sweat mingles with the oil on my back.

Then you reach around and touch my stiff cock, and that’s all I need to go over the edge. I moan and spurt my seed on the cool countertop beneath me.

We lie there, panting for breath. You reach down with your free hand and give my buns an affectionate squeeze, while your hand on my softening prick squeezes and milks the last of the cum out.

“Mmmm,” you murmur into my ear, and nibble on an earlobe. “That was a great fuck. We’ll have to do that again.”

I lie there, feeling your racing heart pounding against my back. I slip my leg down from the counter, enjoying the feel of your legs between mine, and your cock softening inside my boypussy.

“Yes,” I say. “I want to be fucked like a woman again.”

We lie locked together on your sticky countertop, and I lazily wonder what other things I can do to please you and stir your lust.

You stroke my hair. “My sweet bitch. I love being in your cunt like this.”

I love it too.

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

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

The last thing Brady expected when he walked in to the band room was to fall in love. He was going to ask the band director to find a recording of the National Anthem to play at a weight lifting fundraiser, but of course the eccentric woman wasn’t there. Brady was in no rush to return to class and he figured that as a senior juggling student council and football, he had earned the right to be a lazy bum. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, feeling like passing out from the exhaustion of his hectic life.

Piano music drifted from one of the practice rooms. It was a slow, melancholy piece that made chill bumps rise up on his arms. He followed the sound, almost helpless under its power. He had to hear more of it, see where it came from.

He found the source of the sound. A thin, pale boy with dark hair that was longer than most boys in the small town of Westmore wore their hair. It looked soft though, shiny. The boy’s eyes were like a starless night sky and seemed to focus on nothing in particular. Brady watched his hands move across the keyboard. It was almost erotic the way his fingers made the music.

Brady stopped himself right there. What was he thinking? Erotic? Brady was straight. He liked girls. He liked how they looked and how they smelled and felt. But then…he watched the piano boy playing…and he loved the way he looked and he wondered how he smelled and felt.

He couldn’t have those thoughts. His mother and stepfather would kill him. What would people think of him? “No,” he said to himself. Blinking several times and turning his eyes away.

“What?” a voice behind him asked. Oh, how Brady hated freshman.

“Who is that?” he asked.

The pudgy girl with unfortunate skin squinted her eyes and looked into the room. “Ezra, the new kid. He’s in your class.”

Brady examined the boy again. Ezra was much smaller than any senior guy that Brady had ever seen. But that didn’t really matter. Ezra looked like an angel and the music he played was nearly as beautiful as he was. Again, Brady mentally slapped himself. He shouldn’t be calling another guy beautiful. He was not gay.

The freshman girl had been talking the whole time Brady was lost in thought and he had to ask her to repeat herself.

“He’s like weird,” the girl said. “He doesn’t talk or anything. I think he’s like special ed or something.”

**

Later Brady’s eyes were drawn to Ezra as he walked across the cafeteria. Standing, Ezra looked even smaller than Brady had first guessed. He was about five foot one and maybe a little over a hundred pounds. His clothes were all black or grey and his eyes showed the same vacant expression Brady had seen when Ezra was playing the piano.

“Hey,” he said to his friends, “did you guys hear there’s a new senior?”

“Yeah, some piano guy,” Bryan said, before resuming the process of shoveling food into his mouth.

His friends didn’t seem interested in the topic, but Brady did not give up. “Do any of you guys have a class with him?” he asked.

Bryan’s smart girlfriend piped up. “He’s in advanced math with me.”

“What do you think of him?”

Paul laughed and said, “Why so interested, Walker? Got a little crush on him.”

“Shut up,” Brady snapped. He and Paul had always been rivals when it came to sports and girls. More often than not, Brady won, but Paul never failed to make life difficult for him.

“I didn’t know you swung that way,” Paul continued, and soon half of the group at the table was snickering.

“I don’t, just ask your girlfriend,” Brady said. Their lunch companions were loving the conflict and all of them reacted to what Brady said with a simultaneous “Ohhh!”

Paul’s smile dropped and he stood, slamming his fists against the adana escort table. “Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

Bryan sensed the situation escalating and intervened, “Easy now, no need to get into that.” At that moment the bell rang, but Brady knew his comment would not go unpunished.

**

After school, Brady paced in front of the band room, debating going in. He wasn’t even sure Ezra was there, but he just wanted a chance to see him again. Finally, he went in.

“Brady!” the band director said loudly, rushing over to him. “How are you? How is your mom? Great job in the game last Friday! You know you’re the band’s favorite!!”

He smiled, and accepted the compliment, but the truth was he kind of hated the attention sometimes. “I’m good and so is my mom. Mrs. S, I was wondering if you had a recording of The Star-Spangled Banner. The principal wants it played before the fundraiser this weekend.”

The older woman made a great show of thinking about his request. “Well, I don’t believe we have any recordings, but I could have one made. In fact…”

Without finishing her thought, Mrs. Smith started walking away from him. Brady followed uncertainly. She stopped in front of the piano room, where a fast and complicated melody was playing. She spoke to the person inside and then stepped out. “We’ll have your recording in a moment.”

Ezra emerged from the practice room and Brady felt a chill at the sight of him. Ezra didn’t seem to notice Brady.

Brady knew he didn’t have to stick around, but he took a seat and watched as Mrs. S set up the recording equipment. Ezra disappeared into a room and returned with two silver trumpets and sheet music.

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. S handed Brady a CD and sent both boys on their way.

“So, when did you move here?” Brady asked.

Ezra didn’t answer and continued to walk towards the parking lot.

Brady normally parked by the athletic complex, but he followed Ezra anyway.

“Hey, I think its cool how you play music and stuff like that. I tried to back in elementary, but I was no good at it. My parents didn’t want me to be in band. They wanted me to be in sports. My dad…well stepdad, he was always pushing me to do football. I don’t really like it though.”

Brady stopped rambling and realized he had just told Ezra something he hadn’t told anyone before. Ezra still wasn’t speaking, but Brady noticed that he had started to look over at him. That seemed like a good sign.

“So, when did you start playing piano like that?”

No reply.

“Hey, since you’re new and all do you want to go do something? I could show you a good place to eat if you’re hungry.”

Still no reply.

“Are you hungry?”

Finally, a nod.

**

Ezra hadn’t said a word through their meal and as Brady drove him back to his vehicle at the high school he started to wonder why. As he studied Ezra’s eyes, it seemed less like it was detachment they reflected, but some unspeakable pain. Brady wanted to hold him close and he didn’t care anymore what others would think. He’d given up fighting the attraction he felt.

“Ezra, I got something to say. Please don’t freak out.”

Ezra nodded absently. Brady parked his truck next to the only remaining car in the high school parking lot.

Brady took a deep breath and started to pour his heart out. “I have these feelings for you that I don’t understand. I’m not gay, I swear, but you make me…I mean I don’t know where this came from. I saw you today and I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. I want to know everything about you. I want to hold you and…other things. Are you as freaked out as I am? Because I don’t understand why I feel this way. All I know ankara escort is I want you.”

Ezra was staring at Brady now, still no words.

Brady sighed. “Well…I guess let me help you out of the truck.”

Brady went to the passenger side and opened the door. Ezra used Brady’s arm to step out of the truck, but he didn’t let go. Brady was bent down to eye level with the boy that was a foot shorter than him.

Ezra softly kissed Brady’s cheek, smiled distantly, and then got into his car. Brady was still standing dumbfounded as Ezra drove away.

**

Brady’s light brown hair was curly and wet as he stepped out of the locker room. He drifted over to where the band was quickly and efficiently storing their equipment and returning it to the band room. Ezra was there, as Brady knew he would be. He had been sort of stalking his classmate since that sweet kiss on the cheek. He knew it wasn’t much, but he’d relived it a thousand times since then. There was something about Ezra that made Brady want to share all his secrets. Brady waited until Ezra started to walk towards the parking lot.

“Hey, wait up!” he called.

Ezra turned and Brady jogged to catch up to him. Brady couldn’t figure out if Ezra even liked seeing him, but for Brady there was no option. He had to.

“You know, I can never figure out what you’re thinking,” Brady said. “Do you even like me? At all?”

Ezra nodded.

“OK, well I was wondering…I mean I don’t know if this is something you would like but I know this place no one goes. I just thought maybe you would want to come and just hang out. Just me and you.”

They reached Brady’s truck and Ezra smiled. Brady helped him into the truck and drove down the country back roads, so far in the middle of nowhere that none of his friends would dare go back there for their drunken parties.

Brady parked next to a pond that was like black glass that reflected the full moon and stars above them. He went to the passenger side and opened the door. Ezra looked uncertain and didn’t remove his seatbelt to step outside of the vehicle.

“It’s alright. Trust me.” Brady held out his hand. Ezra was frozen for a moment, several emotions swirling in his eyes, but finally he unbuckled and took Brady’s hand.

They sat in the truck bed and looked at the stars for a while.

“Man, I really like you,” Brady said. “I couldn’t do this with any of my friends. They just don’t appreciate this. Do you like this? Was this a good idea?” Brady glanced in Ezra’s direction and saw him shivering. He fumbled trying to remove his letterman jacket but finally got out of it and wrapped it around Ezra’s shoulders. He couldn’t resist kissing Ezra on the forehead. Ezra looked at him for a moment and then returned his gaze to the stars, but Brady noticed that Ezra had slightly shifted to be closer to him.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” Brady said and then he laughed a little. “I still can’t get used to this. I always thought I was straight. But I don’t know what I am now. You’re all I think about, honestly. I haven’t thought about a girl since I saw you that day when you were playing the piano. You’re just unbelievably beautiful.” He laughed again. “Imagine if anyone knew I was saying this. My stepdad would beat the crap out of me. I mean, if he could. I don’t let him do that anymore.” Brady realized he was rambling again and stopped talking for a moment. “You know, I don’t get how you say nothing and I’m telling you all my secrets.”

Ezra was looking at Brady, with a half smile on his face and his eyes unreadable. Brady thought for a moment they might kiss, but then pain flared in his back and he couldn’t manage to cover his reaction. Ezra’s eyebrows came closer adıyaman escort together and the look in his eyes seemed to ask ‘What’s wrong?’

“My back. I’ve had this pain ever since my stepdad threw me off the porch when I was ten. It only hurts after a long practice or a game. I forgot to bring my pills for it too.”

Ezra scooted and situated himself behind Brady and started to rub his small, warm hands over Brady’s back. Brady recalled how those hands could bring music from the piano so beautifully and he felt warmth in his stomach that spread over his body as Ezra’s hands worked the knots out of his back. Brady felt himself growing hard and finally he couldn’t resist turning his body to face Ezra. Their eyes met for a moment and Brady put his hand under Ezra’s chin.

After what felt like forever, Brady brought Ezra close to him and their lips met. Brady slipped his tongue into Ezra’s mouth and it tasted sweeter than he’d dreamt about. He put his arms around Ezra, feeling his small body surrounded by the thick material of the jacket. Brady wanted to be as close as possible. He slipped his arms into the jacket. Ezra made a soft moaning sound and pressed himself closer to Brady, his small hands now digging into Brady’s shoulders.

Brady started to work his fingers under Ezra’s layers of shirts, finally reaching the warm skin of his back. He wanted to rip the cloth away and kiss Ezra everywhere on his body. His finger brushed a slightly raised area, softer than the skin around it. Ezra’s body went stiff and he started to push Brady away.

Brady removed his hand and started to panic. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Ezra had retreated all the way to the back of the truck bed and a single tear ran down his face.

“I’m sorry,” Brady said softly, approaching him slowly. He felt like a cold fist was clenching his stomach and his throat was tight. “I didn’t mean to. I won’t touch you again unless you want me too. Please don’t be upset.”

Finally Brady was beside Ezra. “I’m sorry. Was that a scar? I’m sorry. I don’t want to know unless you want me to. You’re in control, Ezra, I swear.”

A few more tears had made their way on to Ezra’s cheeks and he wouldn’t look at Brady.

“Can I wipe your tears away? I swear that’s all I want.”

Ezra didn’t react, but Brady slowly raised his hand and wiped away the glistening tears. “I’m sorry. I always felt like there was something about you. Is that why you never talk? Look, I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give.”

Ezra flew into Brady’s arms, kissing him all over his face, crying even more. He curled himself against Brady, kissing his neck and putting his arms around him tightly.

Brady smiled wider than he ever remembered. He rubbed his hand over Ezra’s back. He didn’t like that there was so much cloth between their skin, but still the moment was intimate. Finally Ezra let out a long, shuddering breath. Not only had he stopped crying, but he had fallen asleep.Ezra looked completely different while he slept. He looked much younger than he was and the innocent way he sucked on his index finger with his head on Brady’s chest made Brady feel protective. Brady kissed his forehead for the second time that night.

Carefully, he carried Ezra from the bed of the truck, to the passenger seat. He drove slowly back to the farm-to-market road, back to the school, back to reality. He let his truck idle in the parking space next to Ezra’s car.

He was feeling something unbelievable and exhilarating. It was love.

He glanced over at Ezra, curled up in Brady’s letterman jacket that was like a blanket on him. He smiled and leaned over to kiss Ezra’s cheek. As he was settling himself back in the driver’s seat, he saw the clock in the corner of his eye. It was three o’ clock. Two hours past curfew.

“I’m dead,” Brady said. “Fuck.”

He stepped out of the truck and went to the passenger side. He hated to wake Ezra, but the longer he sat there the drunker his stepdad would be and the worse the fight would be.

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