Ay: Eylül 2023

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

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

I turned off the shower and stood there for a long moment, trying to get myself to calm down. I was nervous and excited, somehow managing to both dread and look forward to what awaited me when I came out from behind the shower curtain, or should I say who was waiting for me.

Mr. Fields. Mr. Roger Field, to be exact, and from what he had told me over the course of the 100 or so miles we had ridden together after he picked me up hitchhiking, he was a 62 year old guy who didn’t usually pick up kids like me, but he said I looked like I was a nice fellow so he took a chance.

A couple of hours later, I was in room 119 of someplace called the Crestwood Motel, which was somewhere in upstate New York. Roger said that he was getting too tired to continue his trip, and told me that, while he understood if I wanted to try to get another ride, I was welcome to spend the night with him and he would take me home the next morning.

“I was hoping you would say that,” Roger said, patting me on the thigh after brushing off my comment that I didn’t have much money or anything like that. “Because I like your company, Jimmy, and I like you a lot. Do you know what I mean?”

I did know what he meant. Roger Field was a nice man, and his grandfatherly ways reminded me of my science teacher Mr. Gordon back at school, and in more ways than one. Not only was Mr. Fields a kind and gentle man with a soothing tone and manner like Mr. Gordon, his touch was similar too.

“I’m glad,” Mr. Field had said after I told him that I liked him too, and it was then that his hand had slid up my thigh and onto my lap. “Oh, that’s nice.”

Mr. Field’s hand had found what he was looking for, and after a few seconds of kneading my cock through my shorts he seemed quite pleased, at both what he had found and what was happening to what he was holding.

“Big fella, aren’t you?” he said as he pulled into the parking lot of the motel. “You ever been with a guy before?”

“Once,” I lied.

“Ever been with a old guy like me?”

“No,” I said. “But you’re not old, Mr. Field.”

“Thanks for being nice. Stay here,” Mr. Field said after reminding me that he was Roger, not Mr. Field. “I’ll be right back.”

As I watched Roger go into the office of the motel, I was struck at how similar this was to my first experience with a man last summer. His name was Walter and he had been a kind older man too, even older than Roger Field.

After that, I had tried to recapture that initial magic with a guy my own age, and while it was enjoyable, it wasn’t the same. For whatever reason I found myself drawn to older men, and that was my when my science teacher Mr. Gordon had offered to tutor me at night to make sure I aced the final exam last month, I readily accepted his offer, as well as everything else that followed.

So when I told Mr. Field that I had been with another man once before, I had under-counted by two, but for an 18 year old I didn’t feel all that promiscuous. As a matter of fact, in addition to feeling chronically horny I felt woefully inexperienced, and as I saw the shower curtain being pulled open I knew both of those things were going to change.

“There you are,” Roger said, smiling as he gestured me to come out of the shower. “Let me help you get dried off.”

Roger had already taken a shower, and had been very immodest in the process, walking around naked in front of me in a casual way. Roger was in good shape for a guy his age, his stomach still tight and probably only packing about 150 eyüp escort pounds on his 5’9″ frame.

His chest was hairy, and the sight of that silver fur was something that I really liked. It was in stark contrast to my own chest, and pretty much my whole body, which except for the little nest of curls above my dick and the modest wisps of hair under my arms, was virtually barren.

Roger was rubbing the towel under my arms, which I had raised for him, and as he dried me I felt our cocks brush against one another. It wasn’t accidental either, as Roger had moved up close to me so that his long and slender member made contact with my cock.

After he dried my armpits, he leaned forward and licked them, swirling the tiny spray of hairs with his tongue while our cocks kept rubbing together.

“You like that, don’t you Jimmy?” Roger said with a wink, as he felt my dick get hard while it pressed against him.

He kept drying me off, and after he worked the towel around my genitals my cock was standing straight out, and Roger was on his knees in an instant, her hands taking my swollen cock and bringing it to his mouth.

As his lips slid down over the bell-shaped head, Roger’s hands came up and grabbed my ass, his fingers digging into my cheeks while my cock went further into his mouth.

“Damn,” I exclaimed, running my hand through his thinning grey hair as I watched Mr. Field straining to take all 7″ into his mouth, and even though he made a little gagging sound as the tip of my neck scraped his throat, he did it.

Roger’s mouth slid back up to the head of my cock, and as he flicked the tip of my dick with his tongue, he looked at the wet cock and smiled.

“Nothing like a hot young guy with a big cock,” he said before he swallowed my cock again, and even though I wasn’t that great looking or incredibly well-endowed, never argue with a guy who’s deep throating you.

“Mr. Field,” I groaned. “I mean Roger. I’m gonna – can’t…”

My warning didn’t slow Roger down. As a matter of fact when I told him I was going to cum, that only sped him up, and as his hands churned my balls feverishly, I felt myself ejaculating into his mouth. Roger didn’t blink, and seemed to savor the flavor of my seed as I came hard and fast.

“That will take the edge off,” Roger said, and after I reached down and helped him to his feet, he led me out to the motel room.

“I only did this twice before, Mr. Field,” I said as I got onto the bed next to Roger and looked at the long pale tube that hung between his skinny thighs.

“You’ll do fine, Jimmy,” Mr. Field said, who reached down and gave his limp dick a long pull, wiggling it around before offering it to me. “Sorry I don’t have all that much for you to work with. Would you do me a favor though, son?”

“Uh – sure.”

Don’t call me Mr. Field, or even Roger,” he asked. “Would you mind calling me Grandpa?”

“Okay – uh – Grandpa,” I said tentatively, and smiled back at the old fellow.

“That’s my boy, Jimmy,” he said. “Now you said you’ve only been with two other men?”

“Yes, Grandpa,” I said, remembering what he wanted me to call him just in time, and it obviously either pleased or excited him for me to do that.

“Were the other men circumcised?” he asked.

“Yes, Grandpa,” I replied. “I never really saw one like yours before. In person, I mean.”

“Nothing to be afraid of,’ he assured me. “Here, hold my cock.”

I could see the shape of the head of his cock under his foreskin, fındıkzade escort and when I took hold of the flaccid hose, which was really soft and spongy, the head peeked out a little bit.

“There you go,” he sighed. “Play with it all you want. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Jimmy. If you’d rather not give me head, I understand.”

I could feel his dick start to get a little firmer as I continued to pull on it, and as I tried to get my nerve up, I looked back up at him.

“Don’t you want me to suck your dick, Grandpa?”

“Yes Jimmy,” Roger beamed, reaching out and putting his hand on my hip. “Grandpa would really love that.”

I took a deep breath and bowed my head, letting my mouth take it the long cone of his glans while I held the foreskin back. His cock was still rubbery, but as my mouth kept sucking on him, that was starting to change, and when I reached down and took his ping-pong ball-sized nuts in my hand and squeezed them, he groaned loud.

“That’s it, Jimmy. Work Grandpa’s balls real good. Rough them up a little bit. Grandpa likes that.”

“Am I doing okay, Grandpa?” I asked, taking my mouth off of his semi-turgid cock and looking up at him for approval.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” he said. “Here, move around a little bit so I can watch you. That’s it. Now look up at Grandpa while you suck on it. That’s it.”

Roger was up on his elbows, smiling as our eyes met, and while I kept sucking on him, his dick got longer and harder.

“Do you know what Grandpa would like to do to you after you get him all nice and hard?”

I didn’t know, but when Roger told me, I was shocked. There I was wondering if I would be able to swallow his cum when he came, and now he was telling me this.

“Didn’t you do that with the other two men?” he asked.

“No,” I said, looking down at the staff I was holding in my fist, that he wanted to put in another orifice of mine.

“Oh my, a virgin,” Roger said. “Grandpa would love to be the first for you. I would be so gentle. Here, swing around and let me taste you.”

Roger had me scoot around so that I was straddling his face, and as I leaned down to go back to sucking on his cock, I felt his hands spreading my ass cheeks apart.

“OH!” I yelped when I felt something wet rubbing around my anal ring, and that was nothing compared to what I felt when what seemed like a snake slither into my anus.

It was impossible to pay attention to what I was doing with Roger’s tongue burrowing deep into me, sending shivers down my spine, and I felt myself being pulled upright so that I was practically sitting on his face.

Whatever he was doing had an effect on me, and soon I was riding his face like it was a saddle. I felt Roger’s hand reach around and grab my cock, which was as hard as blue steel, and as he started milking me he asked me how I liked it.

“Oh, it’s so good, Grandpa,” I squealed. “Keep licking my ass. Think I’m going to cum.”

I looked down at the weathered hand which had my cock in a death grip as Roger pulled on it savagely, and then I saw my cock spurting out all over Roger as my whole body tingled.

***

It took me several minutes to get Roger hard again, and as I watched his cock get longer and longer I got more and more nervous. Despite Roger’s constant reminders of how much bigger I was than him, in fact I wasn’t, because his cock was plenty long.

“Don’t be afraid, Jimmy,” Roger said as he positioned me on all fours, maneuvering my escort şişli read end so it was up high, and after I felt him put something gooey on me back there, I felt Roger climbing up against my backside.

“I’m scared, Grandpa,” I said, and that was the truth.

“Grandpa would never hurt you,” Roger said. “You know that, right Jimmy?”

“Yes.”

“You ready?”

“Yes,” I said even though I wasn’t. “I’m ready. Put your dick in my ass, Grandpa.”

“Here you go, Jimmy,” he said, and then every slowly I felt his cock enter me.

It hurt, but because he was so slender, it wasn’t as bad as I feared, and even though it felt like he was skewering me with his long prong, I found myself liking it.

“You okay, Jimmy?” Roger asked, leaning over me.

“Yes Grandpa,” I said, feeling his sweat sprinkling my back. “Fuck me in the ass Grandpa. Put your big dick all the way in.”

It didn’t last long enough for me, but Roger said I was so tight and it felt so good that he told me later that he was surprised he lasted five minutes. By the time he came, filling my bowels with his warm seed, I had been able to take all of his cock, savoring the feeling of him fully impaling me as I pushed back against his thrusts.

“I loved it, Grandpa,” was my answer as we eased down to the bedding.

***

When it came to my turn, I couldn’t do it. I tried it, but I sensed that I was hurting Roger as I tried to get the head of my dick inside of him so I backed off.

Sorry,” I said, and told him that I couldn’t stay hard thinking that I was going to hurt him.

“You’re such a sweet boy, Jimmy,” Roger said.

“You know what you can do, Grandpa?” I said, and when I told him, Roger seemed overjoyed.

“Would I mind?” Roger said. “Are you kidding?”

“I liked it a whole lot when you sucked my dick before, Grandpa,” I said. “Nobody ever sucked it that good before.”

“I could suck this beautiful thing all night,” Roger said just before proceeding to do just that.

***

Roger took me the rest of the way home the next morning, and before we said goodbye, he gave me his address and phone number and told me that if I ever wanted to get together again, just give him a call.

“Something I want to explain before you go,” Roger said. “It’s about that Grandpa thing last night. I’m sure it seemed weird to you.”

“I dunno,” I said. “I never met either of my grandfathers, so it wasn’t creepy to me that way.”

“I never had children, so obviously I don’t have grandchildren. I did have a grandfather, and when I was your age – actually a bit younger, he would come into my room. You can guess the rest. You could say he made me the man I am today.”

He laughed at that, and I shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“I used to be mad at him for what he did, and while it did screw me up in the head for a time, when I’m honest with myself I have to admit that those were some of the greatest nights of my life,” Roger confessed. “Crazy, huh?”

“I dunno,” I said.

“Well, thanks for humoring an old man,” Roger said. “All my life I wanted to have a young man say that to me, and you seemed – I don’t know – you seemed like an understanding fellow. Good luck to you, son.”

“Thanks, Grandpa,” I said, reaching over and giving him a hug and kiss before getting out of the car. “Uh – I have a winter recess from college in December. If you want I could come up for a couple days.”

“You kidding?” Roger said, smiling at clapping his hands on the steering wheel. “You just gave me a reason to keep ticking.”

“Okay Grandpa,” I said. See you then. Love ya.”

“Love you too, Jimmy,” He said, and I thought I saw him wipe away a tear as he pulled away.

***

thanks for reading

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

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

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction. All characters involved are eighteen years of age or older. This series will include sex between brothers. Do not continue reading if you do not approve of incestuous relationships. Again, this work is fiction.

*

Aiden and I continued to talk a little bit, but when the conversation was running dry, I knew that nothing was going to happen. I decided to leave and try to control myself from doing something he didn’t want.

Just when I was about to get up, Aiden shocked me with a question, “Carter, going back to your story, you said that the next morning you woke up next to some girl…Was she your first?”

Surprised at the subject matter, I told him the truth, “Yeah, Aiden she was. And I don’t remember any of it. I just woke up half naked next to her, with a used condom on the floor and the biggest headache I’ve ever had. So I slipped out of bed to avoid the awkward conversation to follow and I never saw that girl again.”

Following my honesty, Aiden explained a story of his own, “I’d to say that I had better luck with my first time, but I didn’t. It was with this girl that I’d only known for a week, and I never really considered going that far with anyone. It happened so fast, really. One minute we were talking, and then next minute she was telling me that she was ready to lose it. So I brought her in here and we just did it. We were only in here less than 30 minutes before she got dressed and left without saying anything. And just like that, I wasn’t a virgin anymore.”

I continued to listen to Aiden’s story and was surprised at his newfound honesty. We had told each other most everything in all our years, but somehow sex was something we kept to ourselves. After all, when I was having sex, Aiden was far too young for me to be sharing. I was glad that we could finally open up about this touchy subject and now, I was willing to tell my brother anything he wanted to hear. I just knew that I had to tread carefully, trying not to end up drowning in my own words.

He continued on, “I’d like to say that I left it at that, but you know me.”

I interrupted, punching his shoulder, “Aiden, the kid who’s always escort kayaşehir had a million thoughts running through that tiny little head of yours.

He punched back, “And it’s those million thoughts that have me looking for something beyond the heaving breathing and touching.”

Wanting to see where this will lead, I asked him, “What do you mean?”

He looked over at me and explained, “I mean that all I’ve ever had was something purely physical. I meet a girl then we move forward and end up just doing it. It never meant something more than a couple nights of physical activity. There wasn’t any passion; there wasn’t anything more than two kids wanting to do the deed.”

I leaned back, ready for the long spiel that was about to come. Knowing Aiden all my life, I learned all about him. He always spoke with such intelligence, digging deep and seeing things beyond what they appeared to be. He talked about everyday situations with such poeticism that everything sounded so profound and beautiful. I could just stare at him talk all day, seeing him go off subject and get lost in his own words. I knew that I had to snap back soon before he’d give me one of his famous lectures about day-dreaming and not listening to him.

I listened as he continued to speak, “I know I’m probably reading too much into this, but for me, sex is supposed to mean something. It’s supposed to be about two people taking things to new heights by being connected in a different sort of way. Here I was thinking that maybe I just needed to find the right girl, but it’s as if every other girl is just the same as the firsts. I just want to feel something. Does that make sense?”

I looked over at my brother, gave him a comforting smile and replied, “I get you Aiden. You just need to be patient cause that feeling that you want to experience, with that person that’s meant to be with you, it’s out there; they’re out there. You’ll find it someday little bro. I’d like to say that I’ve experienced it, but I’m still waiting.”

Aiden smiled, and then continued to look off into space, “I guess I’ll just have to keep searching.”

I playfully replied, “I guess you’ll just have to fuck escort anadolu yakası everything girl out there until you find the one.”

Aiden darted back, “You’ve always been the eloquent brother.”

I laughed then continued to tease, “I’m just glad that I won’t have to hear any more of your little ‘sex-capades’.”

Aiden gave me a confused look, and then asked, “Carter, what are you talking about?”

Knowing I couldn’t take my statement back, I explained, “Aiden. We’ve been living in rooms right next to each other since I turned 13. And frankly, the walls aren’t as thick as you think. I could hear everything: all the music you play, the loud phone conversations you have, and every girl you’ve ever brought back. Trust me, I know more than you think I know.”

His eyes grew bigger as he listened to my confession, “Wait, what? You can hear everything? Well, why didn’t you say anything earlier? Damn, Carter!”

I laughed a little, trying to ease his frustration, “Calm down Aiden. I just chose to keep it to myself cause I didn’t want to ruin anything for you. Most of the time, I was already half-asleep when you’d bring someone back. The other times, those sound-proof headphones would really do the trick.”

Still dumbfounded, Aiden continued to question me, “Wow. So all this time our rooms were separated by paper-thin walls and I never knew. Wait, Carter, does this mean that mom and dad could hear me too?”

I put my hand on his shoulder and reassured him, “No, Aiden, they couldn’t hear anything. See, when you were still very young and I went through that phase of learning how to play instruments, Dad had their room sound-proofed so they wouldn’t be bothered by all the noise. And when I eventually gave up learning, they didn’t bother to take down the panels.”

Aiden breathed in relief, then raised an eyebrow and asked, “Wait. If you could hear all my escapes, then how come I could never hear any of your conquests? Don’t tell me you’ve been celibate all this time!”

I laughed, “No, no. See I knew I couldn’t just bring home girls while my fourteen year old brother was dreaming away. So I always waited for the right times: escort avrupa yakası when you’d sleep over at a friend’s house, or when you, mom and dad, would take a trip up to see grandma…Glad to know it all worked.”

Aiden shook his head, “You’ve always been the sly one, Carter. But don’t think I’m just going to let you off easy for not telling me about the walls.”

I proclaimed, “Ignorance is bliss, bro.” I gulped, knowing that if I was going to man-up and make a move, I needed to do so now. Aiden’s guard was finally down, he was sharing personal things with me and we were starting to bond even more. I just wanted to break free from every inhibition, lean into him, and plant a strong kiss on his lips. I could feel my dick stir in my pants and I started to fantasize about everything I would do to him if I had the chance. Trying to regain control of myself, I shuffled a little.

Seeing my movements, Aiden asked “Everything alright?”

I swallowed, trying not to make anything too obvious, “Yeah. I just…” I cut myself off before I could finish that sentence. I paused for a few minutes then finally replied, “It’s nothing.”

Aiden leaned in closer, examining my face, “I’m not buying any of that. What’s on your mind Carter?”

I gulped again, feeling a slight nervousness fall down throughout my body. Aiden was so close to me that I could feel the residual heat from his body on my skin. He kept staring at me, trying to figure out the reason for my weirdness. I finally looked up and for a split second, our eyes met. I looked into his striking green eyes and could see him looking back at me, as if reading my soul. My heart pounded inside my chest as I brought my hand to the base of his jaw. My movement was so fast that he didn’t even notice me touching him until I leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips. The moment our lips touched, I could feel an electricity transfer over to me. I could feel his soft lips against mine for the brief moments that they touched. The kiss that felt like it lasted hours was over in a matter of seconds. Aiden pulled away, regaining his breath and standing up. As moved back, I knew that I had crossed that line. I had broken that sibling relationship that we had built for so many years. I had finally let my urges get the better of me, and although I wasn’t prepared for the aftermath of my actions, I simply wanted more. But as Aiden looked at me with an anger in his eyes, I knew that I had done something terribly wrong.

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

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

Cum on Panties – Our phone sex is always so hot, you egg me on in so many ways. My wife has no idea how much I wear her panties not to mention her lingerie, stockings and dresses. We talk about what I’d wear when we get together as I suck your cock. You always have me send you pictures of me dressed in panties, stockings & high heels, telling me how perfectly stunning my penis looks in silky panties and you tell me what a hottie little sissy bitch I have become. I tell you when I’m lucky and find a perfectly fragrant pair of her worn panties in the laundry hamper and how exciting it is to sniff them as I jack off in another pair of her panties. Then you tell me you want me to jack off onto the panties onto the pussy soiled cotton panel and send you the pictures. Can’t ever remember being harder.

So there I am in high heels, stockings and white panties with pink trim kneeling on to the edge of the bed my cock in one hand, my wife’s fragrant soiled sexy pink silky string bikini panties pressed to my nose with the other. Really it doesn’t take long you are thanking me and telling me you are taking off work early, you’ll be there in 45 minutes.

By the time you arrive the gobs of cum have soaked into the panel but the panties are still very damp. Left in place on the bed, I have taken a few liberties to bend down and savor a few sniffs. The aroma of cum intermingled with the scent of pussy is overwhelming. I meet you at the door in my silver strappy high heel sandals, white stockings, pink & white panties and a cute little white demi-bra plus fully decked out in a blond page boy wig, full make-up with hot pink lipstick…pretty fucking gay…you love it! You admire your femme lover fondling my hottie little ass and my hard cock tenting the panties. You have other things on your mind however.

“Where are they?” you ask.

Leading you up the stairs kağıthane escort you enjoy the view looking up at me. We get to the bed but I turn around and block access.

“First things first,” I tell you as I start to take off your tie.

This drives you wild and you grab and kiss me hungrily. Soon your shirt is off, your pants are down & I am on my knees helping you out of your shoes. I reach up for your cock, it is so hard as it as you reach over to the bed and snatch up the treasure, my wife’s cum soaked pussy scented pink panties. Your cock is already deep in my mouth as you press the panties to your face and savor the tangy scent of my cum intermingled with the sweet pungent scent of my wife’s pussy. As you drink in the intoxicating aroma of the panties your cock may never have been harder as I gnaw greedily on it. You moan and hum softly as my sucking your cock coupled with the nasty scent of the damp pink panties sends you to a nether world.

As the damp erotically scented panties release the sex pheromones it reels your senses, your cock involuntarily gyrates in & out of my mouth. In a fit of unselfishness you place the panties to my nose for me to sniff as I suck your cock. Taking them in both hands your cock slips out of my mouth while I greedily sniff the wonderful dampness of the cotton panel reeking pleasantly of my cum and the scent of my wife’s pussy. While I continue to sniff the panties your cock is agitated and stabs at my face for a return to my mouth. In an exasperated huff you snatch the panties back and easily work your penis back into my cock hungry mouth. The panties smell so divine and the pleasure I am bestowing on your penis makes you feel a little guilty as it just is such a naughty, indulgent sensation. As I continue to lap lovingly on your cock the scent of the damp cum and pussy scented pink panties escort beşiktaş is too much. You are intoxicated by their sultry aroma coupled with getting your cock sucked by such a horny little sissy bitch, decked out in his wife’s sexy lingerie. You feel it build, you are getting close. Inhaling the scent deep into your nostrils with the warm wetness of my mouth on your penis the dam bursts…you ejaculate many forceful spurts of warm tasty cum into my mouth as I hungrily lap it down. Your cock pulsates cum into my mouth as my own cock drips pre cum in their own pretty silky panties. Your breathing is heavy, ragged. You are dizzy from the sensational pleasure like no other you have ever known.

It takes you a little while to come down from this remarkable high and you have trouble collecting your senses, then realizing I am still sucking hungrily on your cock. You pull me up. We kiss again passionately, both exasperated in sensory enjoyment. I take the panties from you and press them to my nose as you chuckle and play with my cock through my panties.

“Fuck! That was hot” you tell me as you continue to fondle my penis. “I want to see you cum in them again.”

We take turns drinking in long sniffs from the fantastic panties. My cock is so hard. You pull my pink & white panties down and fondle my cock with the now barley damp pink panties. That sends me. We kiss again and again as you jack me off with the panties. Then just standing there, my breath becoming agitated signalling the impending event, we watch together as you jack me off with the magic panties. I started to huff & moan. Then in waves of cum my cock ejaculates mess after mess into the panties & all over your hand.

Wow! That was hot! It’s a half an hour after you’ve left and my wife won’t be home for another 3 hours. I’m still hard. I’m still in high heels, panties, escort maslak wig and make up. I feel so femme & faggy, like I could suck 5 more cocks today and get fucked up my ass. The now damp again panties smell heavenly, though only a trace of pussy scent remains, predominated by the aroma of my semen. Laying on the bathroom floor I have a lubed vibrator humming in my tight hole and the damp panties draped over my nose as I fuck myself with one hand and jack off with the other. It’s so all consuming, I’m such a horny little sissy. I’m infatuated with the scent, the damp cum on the panties smells so good and a few strong traces of pussy scent come wafting through. Yeah, fuck I’m so hard, yeah fuck this feels so good – it takes a little longer but I cum again all over my belly. Naturally I wipe up the cum with the panties, and admire the cum soaked garment.

Wifey will be home in less than 45 minutes. I’m hard again. Watching a little porn. My boyfriend loves shemale porn but it’s too much for me, too big of fake boobs, not that real or exciting. Guess lady boys & twinks are more my turn on. Yeah twinks…pure exciting homosexual activity. Corbin Fischer & Bel Ami are very hot too… Just one…more…jack off…till…wifey…gets…home…there! Fuck! Yeah, wipe up the cum for perhaps another jack off sniff after she goes to bed. Will have to hide ’em & wash em before she does laundry.

The best laid plans…

“Honey, we have to talk,” she tells me as she walks down the stairs with the laundry basket. “Something is going on and you have to tell me the truth, I mean it. This isn’t the first time this has happened” she continues.

“What honey?” I meekly reply.

“My favorite pink panties were on top in the laundry basket when I went to work. Now they are nowhere to be found. Care to explain this one to me mister” she says sternly with more than a little bitchyness in her voice. “Let me guess. You’ve been jacking off in them all day while I’m at work. I hope you’re not gay”…Bingo!

“But, bbbuttt, but honey” is all I can manage as all I can think about is another sniff of those delightful panties.

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

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Peach bitten sweetly in the spring ripens to full cut-sleeve perfection in the summer.

P’ai had heard the sweet song of Wang-t’ao, the handsome stranger from Wuhan his father had met at the Yangtze ferry stand, many times before in the brief time Wang-t’ao had been in the village, but now it was bringing tears to his eyes. He could not be sure why, but he was trembling, knowing that something momentous was happening. Or perhaps it was the drink. He hadn’t had so much wine in all of his years. The rice wine, the chiu, was bitter at first, the more he drank, the smoother it became—and the more it relieved him of his trembling. His overheated body. The meltingly attractive Wang-t’ao—many years older than he was and hardened from ferrying workers across the Yangtze from their cliffside cave dwellings in Zigui to the fertile, alluvial-soil fields on the other side of the river. But still handsome and strong-bodied—and urbane.

It was hot in the room cut out of the cave high above the trickle of the Yangtze, in drought these past four years. The air was not moving, and the chiu was heating P’ai’s body. He loosened the sash of his cotton long coat, his ta ao, the most formal and dear clothing that his teary-eyed mu chin and fu chin had insisted he take away from his home with him on this momentous day, and pulled the edges of the crinkly material from his chest.

Wang-t’ao leaned into him and pulled the garment completely off his shoulders and it fell around his waist where he knelt before the low table just inside the shadows of the cave room entrance. Incense was burning on the table, sending wafts of smoke spiraling up the uneven rock ceiling, blackened by centuries of cooking fires.

P’ai began to shake and wrapped his arms around his chest, but Wang-t’ao smiled at him and, in a tender gesture, reached over and placed the palm of his hand on P’ai’s sternum and ran it up between P’ai’s trembling chest and his forearms. P’ai dropped his arms and Wang-t’ao gently ran long, strong, callused fingers across P’ai’s chest, following the well-muscled folds and circling the nipples, which went erect as a chill ran down P’ai’s spine. Wang-t’ao had told him he had a beautiful body. The girls of Zigui had always told him this as well. But this was the first time an important visitor from the sophisticated city had said this to him—almost as if he was worth more than a life in Zigui.

Almost as if conveying that everything was all right, Wang-t’ao smiled at P’ai again and pulled the sash on his own robe and shrugged it off his shoulders so that the folds descended on and mingled with the coarse cotton of P’ai’s ta ao. Wang-t’ao’s robe was of much finer material than P’ai’s was, as was in keeping with Wang-t’ao’s greater sophistication and position in the world. He was from Wuhan. A pleasure barge master of the Wuhan Floating World.

P’ai knew this. Wang-t’ao’s seduction was one of several months, but P’ai had not been misled. P’ai’s mu chin and fu chin had not been misled. Some things were inevitable. The pitiful trickle of water in the Yangtze determined many things that just were to be.

Autumn’s mellowing floating world whispers in melancholy of what could have been

Wang-t’ao’s voice was rich and haunting. It served him well down in Wuhan, where he sang when poling his pleasure barge on the lakes in the Floating World district while his clients were being entertained on the silken pillows in the barge’s belly.

P’ai was so warm that he moved to rise and stand for a few moments in the twilight at the entrance of the cave room to take in the evening breeze, but the chiu was making him clumsy, and he slipped and would have fallen back off the matting onto the rock floor if Wang-t’ao hadn’t quickly leaned over and encircled the youth’s shoulder in his strong arms.

He was looking down into P’ai’s face with that handsome, searching, reassuring smile of his. He was humming the melody of his signature pleasure barge poleman song to the one he had chosen to return to Wuhan with him.

P’ai lay, shoulders arched back, in Wang-t’ao’s arms. Knowing what came next, even though he had never done this before. Both welcoming and fearing it. He knew it led to Wuhan, away from this impoverished village, made too small for all of the generations here by the fickleness of the father of all Chinese rivers, the Yangtze. By the river’s failure to support the necessary harvests. And the greatest fear—that to follow the drought would be a flood, scouring away the very life of the village, its soil.

The young man shivered as Wang-t’ao’s fingers slowly glided down from his chest, across his belly, and unknotted his tuan ku. The ends of the loin cloth fell away, and P’ai gave a little lurch as Wang-t’ao’s fingers encircled his virgin staff.

Wang-t’ao’s lips came down on P’ai’s, and the youth opened to him and sighed and moaned and moved from fear and trepidation to greater heat and exhilaration, as Wang-t’ao began to slowly pump his fist on P’ai’s yang chu. P’ai initially was restless and instinctively struggled against his heavenly escort osmanbey tormentor. But he had known this was coming; he had wanted this. Wang-t’ao was strong and handsome and urbane. And Wang-t’ao had told him of all of the glories of Wuhan—in terms that made very clear to P’ai where his opportunity lay in becoming a part of Wuhan. And P’ai desperately wanted to be in Wuhan—and to be away from the shriveling Zigui.

And, Aeiiii, P’ai had had no idea that it could be like this. He had, of course, pleasured himself in the darkness of his own family’s cave room corners. But now he had no control. He could not rest. He could not pace himself; this was being done by another, entirely in the control of another. The rubbing and rhythmic pulling of his yang chu was relentless. P’ai groaned and tried to beg for mercy through the possessive kiss of Wang-t’ao, whose tongue had fully invaded P’ai’s mouth and was swabbing his inner cheeks and reaching along the roof of his mouth to the back of his throat. Darting and rubbing. Pulling P’ai’s own tongue into his mouth and sucking it.

And Wang-t’ao’s big, strong, callused hand pulling on P’ai’s yang chu. His thumb playing in the cum-slathered slit in the yang chu’s bulging head.

P’ai began to move his hips, to the extent that Wang-t’ao’ firm grip allowed. Rising and falling. Wang-t’ao loosening his grip on the yang chu, providing a sleeve for P’ai to move in, rhythmically, insistently.

Pumping, pumping, pumping. Skin sliding against skin.

Wang-t’ao released P’ai’s mouth and moved his lips and teeth down to the erect nubs on P’ai’s hard, shuddering chest, as the youth threw his head back and concentrated his gaze on the incense trails curling up to the blackened ceiling. Wang-t’ao was bringing his signature tune to a conclusion.

whispers in melancholy of what could have been on winter’s bridge of sighs.

With that, Wang-t’ao bit lightly down on P’ai’s nipple, and the youth cried out to the streams of upward spiraling smoke. His hips lurched, and he sprayed his youthful seed up onto his tight, quivering belly.

* * * *

He had said it was called becoming a cut sleeve. Mu chin and fu chin had understood service in the Floating World well enough—they had sold P’ai’s sisters into that world already. But, simple as they were, they had had no idea that a comely son would have value of this kind as well. They needed the money for the family to survive the Yangtze’s drought, which was sure to be followed by a flood. That was for sure; it was the time-worn cycle of life along the Yangtze. But when they had parted with their daughters, they had done it more for their benefit, the selling of the daughters into the Floating World. Luckily P’ai’s family members were blessed with beauty, perfectly formed bodies, straight backs and teeth, and melodious voices. So, they were their own resource and treasure. So many families in Zigui did not have even that, even though the village was legendary for its comely folk. Many of them would not survive to the killing flood.

The floating world was a world of comparatively unbelievable wealth. If the daughters had stayed here, they probably already would have starved. If P’ai did not somehow leave, he would surely drown in the inevitable flood that would follow the drought. The parents accepted the inevitability of their fate. They were village born and bound and would remain here, accepting whatever the Yangtze had to give them, no matter what.

Wang-t’ao, handsome and worldly, and relatively wealthy, was an answer to the family’s dream. And mu chin and fu chin didn’t even have to face the decision of sending their second son into the Floating World in whatever way they could. Wang-t’ao had found and cultivated P’ai—he had come to Zigui explicitly to find a new cut sleeve youth, having heard that this region up the Yangtze from Wuhan produced likely youths. And P’ai had been the most comely of those Wang-t’ao had considered for service on his Wuhan lakes pleasure barge.

For his part, P’ai had been smitten by Wang-t’ao and only briefly recoiled from what Wang-t’ao openly and honestly offered him. Smitten won out over the fears of the actual service and was only heightened by the description of Wuhan and the floating world life. P’ai had visions of his days in his rich, sophisticated, handsome lover’s arms—visions of pleasure that completely obliterated his evenings in his thoughts.

Thus, when Wang-t’ao approached mu chin and fu chin, it was with a willing and beaming P’ai at his side.

P’ai would at least survive and might even flourish—and he might, like his sisters, occasionally send something home to help undergird the family and see it through the endless cycle of drought and flood before a decade or two of bare, but tolerable subsistence in the rich alluvial-soil fields across the Yangtze.

* * * *

“Aeiii,” P’ai moaned, as he tried to spread his legs even farther apart. Wang-t’ao had promised pleasure following pain. And they had yet to come to the promised paradise.

Peach escort güngören bitten sweetly in the spring ripens to full cut-sleeve perfection in the summer.

Wang-t’ao was crooning softly in his rich, baritone voice to P’ai, while the youth stared down over the lip of the rocky ledge beyond the cave room entrance, down into the Yangtze gorge at the bare trickle of water wending down toward the desired Wuhan. P’ai had asked if they could drag the bamboo chair over and do it at the mouth of the cave room, so that he could look down on what this meant he could leave behind. He had told his mu chin and fu chin that he was sure this was what he wanted—and he knew that Wang-t’ao was the one he wanted—but he found he needed this reassurance himself upon jumping that chasm. He needed to concentrate on the reality that Zigui was not a possibility while he was spanning that chasm.

P’ai thought the pain was about over, but it was just starting. Wang-t’ao’s hand was slathered in the peach butter that he was working between P’ai’s nether cheeks while the youth was bent over the bamboo chair and gripping its rungs on either side under the straw seat cushion. Wang-t’ao had two fingers working inside P’ai, but P’ai was already tensing up and groaning and starting to writhe under the onslaught, the aroma of peach butter forever now engrained on his soul as connected with the taking.

“Aeiii!”

“Relax, my little one,” Wang-t’ao murmured from behind his bent-over protégé. “It will be well if you let yourself loosen up. Look down there. Look down in the chasm. This is what you are leaving.”

Autumn’s mellowing floating world whispers in melancholy of what could have been

Once again Wang-t’ao was singing his signature boatman song, the song he sang as he poled his pleasure barge around the Wuhan lakes, the song by which his clients identified where he was headed and where in the floating world of Wuhan they could move to meet up with what he could provide them.

P’ai felt the firm grip on his hips. Holding him fast and pulling his plump cheeks apart.

“Aeiiii!” P’ai screamed. It was too large; it would split him asunder. P’ai tried to collapse; he tried to struggle away. But the older, stronger Wang-t’ao had him imprisoned with his big, callused fists and was poling ever more deeply inside him with his throbbing yang chu. The master poleman—of boat and of men.

P’ai writhed and whimpered and cried out under the grip of Wang-t’ao as the pleasure boatman initiated his protégé into the cut sleeve life.

“Shih. Shih. Yes, yes, just like that. Each and every one who rides you,” Wang-t’ao panted out and he relentlessly drove up into his tasty virgin morsel. “Cry for each one as if he is the first lover, just like that. Shih. Shih. My fortune will be made.”

P’ai’s eyes watered, and he focused hard on the trickle of water that was the mighty Yangtze, muttering to himself over and over of how the father of all rivers had failed his family and how he would not be defeated by it. Wang-t’ao had bottomed his pole inside him now and was withdrawing and advancing, withdrawing and advancing. P’ai’s knees like rubber, the rungs of the bamboo chair snapping under his white knuckled grip. Wang-t’ao holding him in a strong, pinching grip by the hips.

Wang-t’ao panting and groaning. P’ai crying and moaning, but subsiding into whimpers from exhaustion and from new sensations. The pain indeed, as promised, translating itself into new sensations.

He was being taken by his lover. He was one now with his master. P’ai began to move with the rhythm of Wang-t’ao’s pistoning pelvis. He turned his head, and Wang-t’ao found his lips and devoured him. Not just animals taking. Lovers giving and receiving.

The bamboo chair lost its purchase on the slippery rock floor as Wang-t’ao lowered the weight of his heaving chest on P’ai’s back and reached his lips to P’ai’s. The chair skittered out onto the ledge, and P’ai saw it careen over the edge and crack with a echo once, twice, thrice, as it bounced down the cliffside into the Yangtze gorge. P’ai’s life in Zigui also crashing, echoing its demise.

Wang-t’ao caught P’ai under the armpits before the youth fell to the floor and kicked the mat by the table over underneath P’ai and slowly lowered him to the mat. All without loosing the saddle of his long, hard yang chu poling the virgin depths. Wang-t’ao pressed P’ai’s chest down onto the matting with a big fist in the small of his back; pulled the youth up on his knees, his hips encased between the master’s heavily muscled thighs; and continued fucking, fucking, fucking.

P’ai closed his eyes and moaned and sighed for his urbane Wuhan lover while Wang-t’ao went back to singing his song on the pleasure barge.

whispers in melancholy of what could have been on winter’s bridge of sighs.

The two cried out in unison in their finishing as Wang-t’ao released deep inside P’ai and P’ai gave up his youthful seed inside Wang-t’ao’s fist.

“Shih. Shih,” Wang-t’ao whispered in P’ai’s ear after kissing escort çapa him on the cheek. “Hen hao. Very good. Very, very good. Each time. Give that each time with the men on the lake, and I will be very pleased.”

P’ai exalted. He had pleased his lover. He could hardly hold back the tears. The pain was worth it. He would run and pack now, and . . .

“We rest for a few minutes,” Wang-t’ao said, standing up and giving P’ai a hardy slap on the rump. “Then I will bed you and teach you the holing of the snake position.”

* * * *

The cock was short but thick, and the fat merchant was bellowing his well-invested lust as P’ai swallowed his yang chu whole, ingested his balls as well, and sucked them into his cheek cavities. He was humming, just as Wang-t’ao had taught him to do with the small-membered clients, and the merchant was beside himself in the sensation of the warm, moist sheath and the vibrations from the humming. The client was flopping like a landed fish underneath P’ai amid the pile of pillows in the center of the pleasure barge Wang-t’ao was poling across the Wuhan lake toward the Bridge of Sighs leading into yet another lake.

The merchant lost control, tearing at P’ai’s hair with one claw and wrapping his beefy legs around the youth’s head, pulling him as close into his groin as possible—loving the full engorgement of his privates into that warm, vibrating chamber. His other claw was ripping at P’ai’s brocaded robe. Wang-t’ao broke off in his singing and poling ever so briefly as the ripping of the fabric harmonized with the merchant’s exclamations of lust against the background of the tinkling instruments and voices gliding across the shimmering water from the other floating world pleasure barges.

Then, Wang-t’ao shrugged and dug his pole into the muck of the shallow lake’s bed once more and propelled the barge toward the three arches of the gracefully upcurved Bridge of Sighs.

Peach bitten sweetly in the spring ripens to full cut-sleeve perfection in the summer.

Overcome with desire for the impossibly winsome youth in the red brocade robe, the merchant reared up for the cushions and rolled over on top of P’ai.

“Ching . . . pu. Ching . . . pu! Please, no!” P’ai pled in his most virginal voice and struggled—ever so weakly and ineffectively—as the merchant rolled between his spread legs, held the youth’s wrists in one beefy fist above his head, and plunged his other hand under P’ai’s buttocks and dug his fingers into the youth’s hole.

“Aeiii! No, please. Hen da, hen da. Too big,” P’ai moaned, further inflaming his client to prodigious power. Seemingly struggling against the merchant, P’ai actually dug his heels into the cushions and raised his pelvis to just the right angle for entry.

Feeling his power and skill and cleverness as a lover triangulate, the merchant took advantage of P’ai’s “mistake” at raising his hips to lodge his yang chu at P’ai’s opening. P’ai writhed and groaned, pleading for mercy and yelping convincingly as the bulging head of the merchant’s yang chu breached his anal ring. And it wasn’t all for show. The merchant’s yang chu made up in thickness now what it lacked in length.

P’ai cried and panted as the tool worked inside his hole, tightened to the extent he could do so through the “presenting the virgin” channel muscle exercises Wang-t’ao had taught him in the spring.

By design and excellent training, the “ravaged” youth slowly metamorphosed into the won-over lover, and P’ai laid back, arched his back, and raised his hips to the pounding of the transported merchant client’s yang chu at his forbidden entrance, as he brought the merchant’s lips and teeth to his quivering breast.

Wang-t’ao poled and sang his signature tune . . .

Autumn’s mellowing floating world whispers in melancholy of what could have been

. . . to the sounds of the muffled sucking at P’ai’s breast and slapping of belly and thighs against belly and groin. P’ai hummed along with the Wang-t’ao’s tune and raised his eyes to the underbelly of the Bridge of Sigh’s middle arch, as the pleasure barge moved under the bridge from the larger to the smaller Wuhan lake and the view of mud bricks opened up into the vast array of stars in the clear South China summer night sky.

Surely this was the last client of the night. Surely he and Wang-t’ao could now retire to Wang-t’ao’s small apartment on the lakeside shore, and it would be for Wang-t’ao that P’ai would be spreading his legs and raising his buttocks to receive the unrehearsed, unfeigned deep fucking from Wang-t’ao’s, the master poleman’s, amazing yang chu that P’ai lived for.

* * * *

The spring of P’ai’s preparation by Wang-t’ao, during which the youth fell fully under the spell of the handsome pleasure barge poleman, had turned into a cut sleeve perfection of summer on the shimmering lakes of Wuhan.

No matter what P’ai had had to feign and endure with the evening clients on Wang-t’ao’s Floating World pleasure barge, throughout the warm summer, Wang-t’ao took P’ai to his bed when they returned to the lakeside apartment and plowed him deep and long, and with the ardor that made P’ai understand that all that was transpiring in their life together was so that the two could be together as lovers—and that made P’ai never even think of leaving Want-t’ao.

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

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

I went back to my hometown to visit my parents recently. In the past my wife always joined me on these trips, but between work and various social engagements she didn’t have as much time as she used to.

It didn’t feel strange packing for one, or flying alone, or even taking a cab by myself from the airport to my parents house. I only felt the difference later that evening after turning in for the night. Behind the door of the guest bedroom I realized I hadn’t slept alone in more than ten years. I took off my clothes in the dark and crawled into bed, and with no other pair of eyes, no other body shifting about, I jerked off for the first time in a long time. It wasn’t just my first time masturbating in years — it was the first time I’d wanted to. I didn’t realize until then how much married life, life as someone’s constant companion and partner for so many years had shaped and constrained my every sexual thought. And the images that flooded my mind were terrifying in their variety.

The next day I told my parents I wanted to go puttering around town on my own. Really I just wanted to somehow continue and extend this feeling of being adrift, unfastened. I visited some old haunts — a book store, a coffee shop, the bike shop I had worked at in high school, a sports bar I frequented in college.

It was at the bar that I ran into Cal, an old friend from my parents’ neighborhood. ‘Friend’ probably isn’t the right word. We were more antagonistic than friendly. I guess the same could be said of Cal and everyone in the neighborhood at that time. There were a few periods of pleasantness between us, but they’d been the punctuation separating long stretches of hostility. He’d had a reputation as a bully, but in hindsight I knew that it wasn’t that simple.

Cal had been a large boy, towering over most of the rest of us. He had a natural predatory quality that most of us recognized and guarded against. He wasn’t athletic, never played any sports. The kids who wrestled, played football, took martial arts — these as a rule were the only kids Cal seemed to regard with caution and wariness, and in the company of these kids the rest of us tended to fear Cal a little less. It was his placement in this pecking order, just a notch or two down from the top, that lead everyone to torment Cal and regard him alternately as a coward and a bully.

I thought about all of this as I shook his hand and exchanged a few pleasantries. If Cal had been large as a boy he was now a giant of a man. He was easily 6’7″ or 6’8″, and the features that had made him intimidating then were all the more so now. His brow seemed to thrust over his eyes, further darkening the earthy color of his irises. His jaw jutted enough to give him a cruel-looking underbite. His frame was broad and powerful, even with the beginnings of a belly. As I stood there dwarfed before his massive form, I felt a strange churning in my gut, which I took to be pangs of guilt for the way I’d treated him years ago.

I told him about my job and my family and pulled out my phone to share a few pictures. He quickly caught me up on what he’d been doing since high school: a year of college out of state, another year on a fishing boat in Alaska, then a long stint as a manager of a temp agency, a title he still held. He had no pictures, or at least none that he offered to share.

After this brief exchange came the moment of awkward silence when two old acquaintances realize they have nothing else to say to each other but feel guilty parting ways again so quickly. We sucked gently at our beer bottles and pretended to watch the baseball game on the screen above us, even though I’m pretty sure neither of us knew who was playing.

I was about to make up some excuse for heading out when suddenly Cal asked me if I like stand-up comedy. He explained that a friend of his owned a new comedy club in town and could get us in without a cover charge. I had nothing else going on that night, and part of me felt I still had some vague amends to make this man, so I said sure. He told me his car was in the shop and asked if I wouldn’t mind picking him up on the way there, and again I said sure. I tipped the last few drops of beer from the bottle between my lips as he scribbled his address on the back of a paper coaster and handed it to me. We shook hands once more before parting, mine disappearing almost completely within his. We both smiled at the incongruity and he paused to promise me a great evening before releasing my hand and saying goodbye. I felt the strange churning once more as I took my hand back and walked away.

When I reached Cal’s house that night around 8:00, it was about what I expected. I slowed to a crawl before turning into his driveway, debating whether I should just keep going and head back home. He lived in a ramshackle single-wide trailer on the edge of one of the older mobile home parks in town. Two rusted out vehicles of unidentifiable make and model were planted in the yard, and I wondered which of these was supposed Sakarya Escort to be in the shop. Feeling the churning in my gut again and reminding myself once more of my past sins, I suspended judgement long enough to get out of my car and ascend the steps of his porch, making sure to press the button on my keychain to chirp the sound of my locking car into the night air. Rising up toward the insect-encrusted porch light, stepping onto the dank and discolored welcome mat, the churning seemed to quicken. At the same time I thought I felt some hint of what was on the other side of it. I couldn’t have said exactly what it was, only that I wanted to feel more.

Cal answered the door wearing a bright green t-shirt, gray exercise shorts and sandals. Not exactly club attire. He had a beer in one hand and a stereo remote in the other, which he promptly used to turn down the music he’d been blasting. His broad, animated smile and the exuberance with which he ushered me inside suggested he hadn’t really stopped drinking since I saw him at the bar.

He practically wrenched my coat off of me and offered me a drink. I asked him if he was about ready to go to the club, even though I could plainly see he wasn’t ready to go anywhere. He waived his hand at the idea as if I’d suggested going to evening Mass, and said wouldn’t it be more fun to watch the comedy marathon that was playing on HBO. Not waiting for me to answer he put a beer in my hand and shepherded me to the living room sofa, which seemed surprisingly clean and cushy. A half empty bottle of rum and another of tequila sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, along with a few opened bags of chips and nuts. The caps were off the bottles, but I couldn’t tell how much of their contents had been consumed that night.

While I had been looking forward to getting out, I had never been much of one for crowds and the idea of sitting on a comfortable couch laughing at a bunch of dirty jokes with no fear of judgement didn’t sound half bad. Cal sat down beside me, his thick blocky knees jutting a good eight inches past mine, and we drank our beers and laughed at the first few comics, and didn’t really talk.

At some point in his drinking, Cal seemed to turn a corner and he grew less cheerful and more sarcastic, tossing out mildly racist and sexist epithets at some of the comics. A little while later he even seemed to grow angry when one of the comics happened to remind him of a person he’d recently helped find a job. His anger veered away from whatever the comic was talking about to something this other person had said or done to piss him off. I’d had a few beers at this point and I couldn’t really follow what he was talking about, but I understood that I needed to agree, or at least not disagree. Every now and then he would punctuate his indignation with a slap on my knee, and over the course of an hour or so, even as he grew more agitated, he seemed to inch into me more and more, until our shoulders were mashed up against each other.

I was getting a little afraid of his moods by this time, but it was a fear that was somehow comfortable, or at least familiar. It was the same churning feeling I’d had at the bar and on the porch before entering the house. I was starting to feel more sharply the thing that was being churned and stirred, and whatever else it made me feel, it made me want to continue. That didn’t change when Cal suddenly said with menace in his voice, “You were like that, you know. You and the others. You had no respect for me, even then.”

I didn’t say anything at first, but just sipped my beer and stared at the bottle of tequila on the coffee table. His shoulder and his leg were pressed against mine.

“We shouldn’t have treated you like that. We were stupid kids,” I finally said, feeling his large inebriated eyes glowering down at me.

“Bitches is what you were. You were little bitches,” he said, knocking his knee into mine more than playfully but not quite violently.

“We were,” I said, nodding. I heaved a sigh and took a small swig of beer, sensing I had only encouraged rather than placated him.

“You were what?” he said, his voice getting more gruff. “Say it.”

“Bitches,” I said, not wanting to antagonize him by dragging out my confession. “We were little bitches. I was a little bitch.”

He looked at me as if not quite sure he believed me, then said, “You’re still a little bitch.”

We were both sunk fairly deep into the couch by this time, and I looked down at my gut as if for some visual confirmation of the churning and ache that was still trying to resolve itself there. I nodded and said, “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he said. The look in his eyes held me, restrained me every bit as powerfully as if he were pinning me to the couch with his arms. At some point the beer bottle in his hand had been replaced by the rum, and his eyes were glazed and shone with a dull ferocity.

I looked up at him and said without irony or humor, “I’m a bitch. Adapazarı Escort I’m a little bitch.”

He looked back at the TV and grew sullen and quiet, as if disappointed with how easily I had submitted to his opinion of me. The churning inside me subsided a bit, and my heart sank as the crisis seemed like it might pass. “You forgive me?” I asked, and he brought his angry gaze back to my face.

“You want my forgiveness?” he asked, visibly annoyed.

“Yes.”

“Beg for it.”

“What?”

“If my forgiveness is worth anything to you, it should be worth begging for,” he said, once more pressing his massive thigh against mine.

“Please?” I asked, eagerly.

He snarled and shoved his leg into me harder. “Is that how you beg, sitting back all smug and comfortable?”

Sensing what he was getting at, and feeling the churning inside me start up again, I leaned forward off of the couch and onto my knees. I turned myself around so I was facing Cal, kneeling between him and the coffee table. I still wasn’t completely sure where he was leading me with this, but I took a chance and placed my hands on his thighs just above the knees, and returning his dominating gaze I said again, quietly, “Please?”

“Please what?” he said.

“Please forgive me.”

“For what?” he asked, and I saw for the first time a little twitch in his shorts.

“For being a little bitch,” I said, and his shorts twitched again, this time a little higher.

“Say it again,” he said, reaching a hand forward to gently rub his cock through his shorts.

“For being a little bitch,” I said, and he lowered the waistband, bringing his semi-hard cock into view. It must have been at least 9 inches — easily twice the size of mine.

“A what?” he said, slowly squeezing it and starting to jerk it off in front of me.

“A little bitch,” I said, now so mesmerized by the sight of his cock that I didn’t notice I had leaned forward. It was only about six inches from my face. I wanted it closer.

“A little bitch,” he repeated, suddenly taking his hand off his cock, letting it wag freely from side to side. I didn’t miss a beat.

“Your little bitch,” I almost panted, moving my hand to where his had been and sliding it smoothly up and down his long, thick shaft.

We didn’t say anything more for a few minutes. He shut his eyes and let his head fall back a bit, his lip curled in a hard little smile. His cock was almost too big to fit my hand around, so I started stroking it with both hands, a move he seemed to appreciate. Every now and then he’d open his eyes and tell me again what a little fucking bitch I was, and I’d respond by giving his meaty tool a long penitent tug and confirm with a whimper that, yes, uh huh, oh fuck, I was his little bitch.

After a few minutes he took a swig of the rum and then reached down and casually pulled my hands away from his cock. It was still rock hard, throbbing there between us, and I knew what he wanted. I planted my hands in their earlier position on his legs and took the engorged head of his prick in my mouth.

I was a complete novice at giving blow jobs, but I was focused less on his pleasure than mine, hungrily taking his beautiful cock in my mouth as if it was the thing I had always wanted most in the world. At that moment it was. I slurped and slobbered all over it, withdrawing it from my mouth now and then only to run my lips and tongue along its shaft or to lick and suck his balls.

Now, my wife is a beautiful woman with a great body, and when we first started dating I could spend hours devouring every inch of her, but I’ve never worshipped anyone or anything the way I was worshipping Cal’s massive cock at that moment. The feeling of submitting to it and to him, of having my mouth and throat penetrated by his powerful, throbbing rod was more erotic and intense than anything I had ever experienced.

My enthusiasm must have made up for my lack of technique, because between the gruff little murmurs about what a bitch I was Cal was grunting and moaning the whole time. I didn’t know what he was feeling beyond the physical at that moment, but having one of his old tormenters there in his house, kneeling before him, feverishly and devoutly sucking his dick had to be a little gratifying. At least I hoped it was.

I don’t know how long we went on like that. Between the booze and the intoxicating mix of hormones flooding our brains we may as well have been in a trance. At one point he threatened to break the spell when he sat forward and growled at me to back up. For a moment I was afraid he’d suddenly sobered up and become disgusted with what we were doing, or that I was just doing it badly. He merely kicked off his shorts and sandals and stepped toward me again, and taking his cock in one hand he slapped it against my face a couple of times before thrusting it back in my mouth.

I immediately started devouring his pole again, struggling to swallow as much as I could but Serdivan Escort barely managing to get half. He didn’t seem to mind and rewarded me with a steady stream of insults like “cock-hungry little slut”, “sissy little whore”, and of course, “little fucking bitch.” Having my mouth very full I didn’t say much, except to whimper or pant my agreement every now and then. But at one point, after being called a little bitch for the umpteenth time, I couldn’t help myself anymore.

“Maybe you should have made me your little bitch a long time ago,” I offered between bobs of my head. He seemed to like the suggestion and thrust his cock forward a bit more, and I held a good six inches for a few seconds before withdrawing again.

“Maybe so,” he said as I continued. “Maybe the way to shut you up was to shove my cock in your mouth.” My head burned with lust at the thought, and I leaned forward and took another couple inches of his pulsing cock down my throat.

“That what you wanted all along?” he said. “You were just acting like a little bitch because you were secretly hoping I’d treat you like one. Should I have just caught you alone one day and made you my little bitch?”

If I’d had a free hand to touch my own cock I would have come the moment he said that. “Mmhmmm, God, fuck yeah, you should have just bent me over and made me your little bitch,” I groaned.

Suddenly his cock was out of my mouth and Cal was striding to the other end of the trailer, rustling around in another room, opening and slamming drawers. I didn’t understand what was happening, so I stayed where I was, kneeling and confused, listening to him swear as he searched frantically for something. Suddenly he was back, holding a small jar of petroleum jelly. Only then did I realize exactly what I had said.

I started to stand up, and stammered, “I’m not sure I can, um — I mean I’ve never actually –“

“That’s what this is for,” he said, setting the lube on the coffee table. He grabbed my shoulder firmly, redirecting my movement as I rose so that I found myself kneeling on the sofa with my hands gripping the back of it.

I still wasn’t sure I was ready for this, but Cal made it clear I had no choice as he reached around and roughly unbuckled my belt and pulled my pants and boxers down to my knees with one swift motion.

“Lift up,” he barked, and I lifted each knee so that he could yank the pants the rest of the way off. I was kneeling there with only my shirt on, bent over the couch, when I realized for the first time that his living room blinds had been open the entire time. The lights were on in his trailer and it was pitch black outside, so I had no idea how many of his neighbors were taking in the show. What was more surprising was that I didn’t care that much at the moment. With the lid off the lube and Cal’s hands suddenly clutching my hips I had other things to think about.

I looked back to see his enormous cock covered in the glistening jelly, and even in my petrified state I still managed to crave it. I was worried he might just try to ram it in, but he took a few minutes running the head up and down my crack to get me nice and lubricated. As soon as I felt him start to push forward with it I grabbed the couch in my fists and clenched my teeth in pain, but he backed off almost immediately.

“Gonna have to break my little bitch in slowly,” he said, and I heard him fumble with the jar again. A few seconds later he was inserting one of his large fingers into my tight little hole, and even that was rough going at first. One of his fingers was probably as thick as the average cock, and he spent a minute or two easing it in and out before adding a second, and then a third. It hurt like hell each time he inserted another one, but after he had all three in my ass for a couple minutes I had loosened up quite a bit. I still didn’t think I could take his gigantic dick, but he obviously felt I was ready to try. He reapplied the lube to his cock, and grabbing my hips again he started to ease into me.

“Push back,” he commanded, and instead of moving away from the pain like I wanted to I gritted my teeth and leaned back into it. The pain was unbelievable. His engorged head kept stretching me more and more until I thought it was going to actually tear me open. Finally I felt it pass my ring and he just held it there, letting me breathe and get used to it for a minute. I still wasn’t ready when he started pushing again, but he didn’t seem to care. I grunted in pain as he thrust it in about six inches or so — I was just guessing the depth, since I couldn’t really feel his cock, only the pain getting deeper. Then he withdrew it until just the head was inside me again. He held it there for another minute, and it wasn’t quite as bad as before.

When he pushed it inside me again the feeling was very different. It still hurt, but this time I felt him, felt his cock driving up inside of me, and my gasp of pleasure must have let him know I was ready to be fucked. He started out with half thrusts, just to make sure I could take it, then started adding another inch with each thrust. By the time he was all the way inside me he was no longer holding back, slapping his huge balls into mine and gripping the flesh on my hips with his vice-like hands.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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The two young lads ran and ran. They ran as if their very lives depended upon their speed, which it probably did. After a time they stopped, exhausted and peered over a small rise. They watched in awe as hundreds of cavalry sped to the Northeast amid clouds of dust and the pounding of many shod horses. They hid in a wash of a small, mostly dry creek which would its way north toward the river, its banks steep enough to conceal them. Not long after the pounding of hooves ceased, the two boys became aware they were not alone. They heard the distinct rustle and heavy breathing of someone concealed close by in a willow thicket.

Prest drew his gun. He knew he had only one remaining bullet, but brandished the pistol as if his ammo were unlimited. “Come out from thar whoever you are! Ah have a gun so don try nuttin’. After a long minute of delay a tall dark negro about the same age as the boys emerged from the bushes. His clothes were filthy and completely in tatters, barely concealing any of his almost purple skin.

“Don’ shoot me sah! I ain’t done nuttin’ ‘cept hide from them rebel cav’ry. Please sah lemme go. Ah gots to be on mah way. Please sah!” The tall dark African, obviously an escaped slave, kept his eyes toward the ground and continually twisted between his nervous hands a straw hat too full of holes to be properly called a hat and seemingly inadequate to shelter out any elements.

“Why shud Ah let you go?” Prest asked. You are obviously a slave who has ran away from his proper master. Ah cud prob’ly receive a fair amount of money for returnin’ you to da proper ‘thorities.

Sean interrupted the Negro’s reply, stepping between the two men and addressing Preston. Put the gun away, Prest. Can’t you see the poor negro is scared shitless! Besides there is no way you can turn him in without someone asking where you are supposed to be. Sean turned to the black man and held out his hand. “I am Sean, what is your name?”

“Well suh, Ah is happy to meet ya. Ah is called Nathan by mos folks, but now that Ah is gonna be free, Ah is gonna use mah African name what my daddy gived me, ‘Mandigo’. He were sold off down south when Ah was onliest five, but Ah ‘member what he tol’ me bout being proud of mah name.” Sean turned his head toward Preston.

“Would you please put the damn gun down! This poor dirty Negro isn’t going to hurt either of us. It looks like he can barely stand.” Well, Nathan, er Mandigo. What did you eat today?”

“Well suh Ah found me some roots and some grubs and some dandyline greens earlier today. Ah is jes fine suh, thank you all for axing.”

“Where are you headed Mandigo?”

“Ah is headed fer Kay-ro, Illinoise, suh. It ain’t too fer now. Folks along the way say Ohio be okay, but Illinois is the place fo folks lak me to be free. And I knows where there is a person in Kay-ro what cud hep me git a job an git started on mah whole new free life. You see, suh dis place Kay-ro, I figer dey mus be rat bout mah bein free dere cus Ah were told it be the same name place as the place where da ol’ ‘gyptian Farohs is from in Africa, dem ol’ black kings lak in da bible, onliest, they spell it da same, but in Illinoise they says it Kay-ro, not Ki-ro.”

“And where is this Cairo located,Mandigo?”

“Thataway!” Pointing. “Norwes’. Jes a little more North to da Hio river, den west and kinda south, I reckon, cuz dat ‘ol river she turns and twists roun’ lak an ‘ol snake. It be on t’other side, bout fitty more mile Ah guess.”

“I thought we were getting close to Louisville.”

“Ah, no suh, beggin yo pardon suh but Louaville dat way, wer dem rebel cav’ry was headed. Ya ax me dey is in a heap a trouble cuz there be Yankees all round dat place, or sos I heerd. Is you a Yankee Sean, suh?”

“Not any more, Mandigo. I don’t know what I am any more. Me and Preston here, he was a rebel. I guess we are now just free men like you wish to be. Free from north or south or war.”

“You means you is deserters? One from both sides of da war? How dat happen?”

“Well, that Sir, is a very long story. If you would care to have supper with us and spend the night with us, I will tell you the whole thing.”

“Well suh. . .

“Now jes, a daggone minute, ” Preston spoke up. We cain’t have. . . Ah mean. . . You ain’t askin’ dis Nig. . . uh. . ta eat wit’ us. Ah cain’t. . . ”

Sean and Nathan spoke at the same time. Mandigo immediately backed off a step.

“Sorry misstuh. Ah did’n mean to interrup you. Ah was jes gonna say it wudden’ be rat me eatin’ wit da white folk.”

“Kin Ah speak with you a minute, Sean?” Preston asked, grasping Sean’s arm and dragging him away a few yards to utter in a harsh whisper. “What da hell ya mean, askin’ a Nigger ta eat with us? Sides the fact that it ain’t fittin’, how you know you can trust him? He’ll prob’ly stab us in the night and steal all we have.”

“Well if he stabbed your slave owning ass in he night you would probably deserve it and that’s why you are so skittish. As for me, I never did anything in my life to hurt a Negro, so why should he hurt me? He is just another poor hungry, Sakarya Escort man as far as I am concerned and it is only right to ask him to share as we would anyone else, as I did to your Confederate ass that day by the creek. Now I asked him to stay and I am going to ask him again. If you don’t like it you can just stay a ways apart. And please, for the rest of the time he’s here, try not to say Nigger!”

Prest turned away and went about preparing a campsite for the night, mumbling under his breath, “Damn Yankee, goddam Yankee.”

“Sean, what de hell you doin’ in mah pack?”

“I know you’ve got another shirt in here and I am taking it to give to Nathan, er, Mandigo.”

“Damn fucking yankee, damnyankee,” Preston mumbled.

Sean and the negro disappeared down stream and after a while, Prest moved along behind. When he came within sight of them, Preston sat on the bank some fifty yards away and watched them.

The black and Sean were standing in the shallow river facing one another. Sean stripped off the tattered remains of the Negro’s shirt and tossed it aside. The same for Mandigo’s trousers, which were so full of holes that they fell apart as Sean stripped them off. Sean had a wash rag and a scrap of soap he began dipping in the river, laving the slave’s body, starting with the black wiry hair atop his dark head. The black youngster submitted to Sean’s ministrations like a small child, turning this way and that, lifting his arms or spreading his legs.

From his distant perch, Prest saw Sean turn the negro boy’s body and recoil in shock and disgust. Though he couldn’t see what what caused Sean’s reaction, he thought he knew. Someone somewhere in the south had whipped this slave, probably severely, leaving huge ugly scars. Though Prest’s family had always been too poor to afford slaves, Prest had always hoped some day to become wealthy enough to purchase several slaves. Now that was all over. As a deserter from the glorious Army of the Confederacy, he could never show his face down home again. He chuckled to himself as he tried to imagine “down home” folks reaction to him and Sean’s way of life. Breaking out of his reverie, Prest returned his attention to Sean and the Negro.

Sean was washing between Mandigo’s legs, laving his cock and balls and ass. The tall slave feigned disinterist, but even from his distance, Prest could see the Negro’s soft dark penis, the color of a ripe eggplant involuntarily rising and stiffening. The young rebel lad’s first reaction was revulsion that Sean would and could be so intimate with a Ni. . . Negro, but when the black’s manhood began to swell and grow, Prest felt that oh so familiar ache begin in his belly. He couldn’t believe it! Not only was he once again reacting sexually to another man, but this time to a Negro, a slave! Even this reaction was short-lived. Prest began to chuckle at himself when he realized that he was becoming jealous of Sean’s attention to the escaped slave. He watched carefully, though he was some distance away, anxious to see what would develop between the black boy and his lover. He was greatly surprised, however, when Sean merely dried off the black boy and handed him dry clothes. The two turned upstream and Sean waved to Prest as they drew near.

“Hey Prest, look at this. Mandigo doesn’t look like an escaped field hand any more, he looks like a freeman.”

“Yassur Mr Preston, Ahse got new clothes. Dese here is da fustest new clothes Ah ever did have on dis ‘ere black body. Now ah is lookn’ lak Ah is da gen-u-wine free man, not no lowly field nigger.”

Sean, pulled Mandigo by the arm and whispered something in his ear, then spoke aloud. “I have told Mandigo here that he doesn’t have to talk all that shit any more, at least not with us, that he can speak like a normal person. He apparently has been educated as well as you or I, perhaps even better. Isn’t that right Mandigo?”

“If it be awrite with you suh, I will stop playing slave now. Perhaps I will have to resume such behavior among others of your race, but Mr. Sean here assures me that neither of you will be offended if I speak in a way much more natural to me, since it is how my mother taught me to speak. She also taught me to read and write and stole or borrowed many books. You see, Sir, mama had a strong deep faith that some day I would be a free man. Her goal was to prepare me for such a time.”

“Preston was dumbfounded. In all his twenty years he had never heard no Negro speak like a damnyankee. ‘Did your mother know what she was doing was agin’ the law, dat she could’a been whipped, sold or even kilt for teaching you dat stuff?”

“Excuse me for saying so, sir, but slaves have been whipped for a damn site less than education and my daddy was sold south for no reason except profit.”

Preston’s porcelain white skin was infused with a blush so red as to nearly match his flaming hair. “Well Ah’ll be damned, Ah’ll be goddamed! Ah ain’t never heard nor seen nuttin’ lak dis in all ma born days! I have a suggestion, fine sir, (laughing at himself and the situation). Why don’t ya call yerself Adapazarı Escort Nathan Mandigo? Jes’ plain ‘Mandigo’ sounds pretty African. But Nathan souns very ‘merican. I guess we is all gonna have ta git use ta callin’ ourselfs ‘Americans after dis war is over, not no Northerner nor Southerner, Rebel nor damnyankee. Lots of. . . eh. . . Ex. . . eh. . . free. . . eh slav. . . er dat is. . .Negros. . . er . . . black folks is gonna be runnin; round with onliest one name. You gotta have two! Yer African name what yer daddy gived ya, and a ‘merican name.”

“Well, Mr. Preston, I do declare. That is one fine idea. And eloquently, if somewhat crudely stated. Thank you, Mr Preston!”

“Yer very welcome, (smiling broadly), Mr. Mandigo.” And then Prest did something he had never done before, a gesture that amazed him in its utter simplicity and . . . rightness. He held out his hand for the first time in his life to shake a black hand.

The young men, one musky dark, the other pale as ice, grinned widely and went on pumping hands for so long that Sean laughingly surmised they might bring water to the surface.

Back at the campsite, Sean and Nathan began to prepare supper, while Preston went off to practice his quick draw. His practice was somewhat ineffective, perhaps, since he had only one cartridge left, which he was not about to waste, but he had to admit, even to himself, that he was getting very fast indeed.

As he strolled back into the campsite, his gun and holster slung low and tied off just above the knee, he called the two boys over to demonstrate his rapidly improving skill. First he showed Sean that he had removed all the cartridge from the pistol, then squared Sean off in front of him. “Now Sean, When Ah say now, you clap yer hands, lak dis.” (demonstrating). “Ready? Now!”

Sean had truly clapped his hands together as quickly as he could, but amazingly, Preston had drawn the pistol from its holster and laid the muzzle between Sean’s hands more quickly than he could clap.

“Wow! Very impressive, Prest! Show me again.”

“Okey, but dis time, don’t tell me when yer gonna clap.”

Over and over again, without fail, Preston demonstrated that he could draw faster than Sean could clap, even when he didn’t know it was coming.

That night, lying together under stars so numerous as to actually shine light upon the two lovers, they discussed the events of the day. On most nights now, when the chill and the danger level permitted, the boys slept together naked beneath one set of blankets, rather than in separate bed rolls, their clothes near at hand for emergencies. Sean told Preston he was amazingly proud of the way Prest had so quickly changed his attitude toward Nathan. Preston had countered that if the Confederacy lost this war, which he had to reluctantly admit looked like the future, many many attitudes would require changing, and not only in the south. “You know, Sean, he said, “mah hole life, mah feelin’s bout everthin’ has turned upside down, ever since that day you dragged me inta dat cave and Ah is still tryin’ ta figur out if dat’s a good thang.” He laughed softly, his breath in Sean’s face. “Now dis.” he said, grasping Sean’s cock with both hands, “dis is a good thang.” He began softly stroking the huge member as he leaned closer to kiss Sean’s face. “And this!”

Sean leaned in, his lips firm, moist and hot. His fingertips went to the back of Preston’s neck drawing their faces more tightly together. When they had first kissed, months ago and months after they had first fucked one another, this most intimate of actions had felt strange to both boys, their growth of beard scratchy and weird on each others faces, but now their lips and tongues met freely, lavishly, licking and nibling and sucking ardently.

“Well, Pres,” Sean said softly, “what did you think today when you saw me washing Nathan?” As he spoke he softly kissed Pres’ cheeks and neck, ran his hands gently up and down and all over the youngsters smooth white body, caressed his slim, wrinkle free cock and tight little balls. Tickled and teased at the firm globes of his tender young ass and the soft tight fuzz covered crack between.

“Wha’dya mean, wha’did Ah think?’

“I mean, where you turned on by that nice looking body and that smooth black cock? Or were you angry and jealous that I might start something with someone else? Or were you disgusted by the whole thing?”

“Hmm. Ah think Ah’d hafta say yes to all of that.”

” My turn to say what do you mean?”

“Sssh!” Pres squirmed and writhed under Sean’s tender touch mostly caressing Sean’s huge cock with both his hands. It was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate on the conversation, but he continued. “Ah mean Ah was disgusted at first. Dis whole Negra thang is gonna be a little hard ta git used ta. But then I was worried you’d lak him and . . . you know. . . well, ya know Ah were kinda jealous.”

“So you are tellin’ me that you weren’t interested in him at all, not turned on by his body or that smooth black thing hanging there?”

“Well Ah Serdivan Escort sorta was, but ya know Ah ain’t even yet convinced that Ah lak boys instead of gals, ‘cept fer you a course!” and saying this he bent and took the swollen, plum sized head of Sean’s cock in his mouth, his cheeks bulging, his tongue swirling around and around, before returning to kiss Sean’s mouth.

“Well.” Sean said, “I was very turned on by the sight of that long thin smooth black body. But I didn’t try anything with him because of you, because I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it and I won’t do anything to endanger what we have together. Also I didn’t want to . . . you know. . . to assume that because I was white and he was a Negro that he. . .well. . . had to do . . . er. . . anything. You know what I mean? Oh Ooh, yeah do that some more!”

As their kisses intensified and roamed over checks and shoulders and necks and nipples, their bodies squirmed and rubbed and thrust against each other, both cocks rigidly upward. Each dick sliding, bumping and banging against the others moistening hardness and against bellies, thighs, legs and balls. Their hands roamed and roved and grasped and pulled and squeezed. The ardor and strength of their caresses growing ever more intense, their bodies seeking to join in fevered need. Each boy began to moan softly as the intensity of their union rose, in counterpoint to the far off sounds of wolves howling out their identities in the star filled night.

Across the campsite, in the flickering flare of the dying fire, Nathan Mandigo, the proud new African-American citizen, heard the sounds emanating from the joined couple and sighed deeply. He, too had enjoyed the fervid joining of loins, enjoyed it with members of both sexes, with black and with white.

When Mandigo had been only eleven, the son of his white master, age 20, had forced him to have sex for the first time. He had informed Nathan if he did not do as he was told, his mother would be sold South. The young slave’s first time had been extremely painful, doubly so because the young master had had no concern for nicety, or tenderness, but had simply taken him as would a brutal animal. And so it had been with all the times he had been penetrated, brutally taken, by his master. Nathan had grown to truly hate the young master. There had followed years of abuse of all kinds, until, finally, Nathan, at fifteen, had become too old. The master had then moved onto Nathan’s younger brother, Caleb. After that, Nathan had had encounters with slave women, one of whom was later the mother of his only child, Aaron, but she and the boy had indeed been sold south and now resided somewhere in the Mississippi delta country. Della, for that had been her name, had been sweet and warm and full of juice, and full of passion for Nathan.

Somehow, after that, the long years of his sexual servitude had begun to influence his choice of companions and he had chosen several male slaves for his emotional and sensual fulfillment, as well as several more luscious female companions.

And now, as he lie there in the chilling night, beneath a single blanket, his own dark smooth manhood began to rise and strengthen at the sounds wafting across from the two lovers. He reached down and began to stroke himself, picturing himself sandwiched between the two white boys, giving and receiving. His mind flicked back to earlier in the day, when the white boy, Sean had touched him, washed him in the river. Had the other boy, the southerner, not been watching, Mandigo might have reached out and touched the boy in response, but he had restrained himself. He would chance nothing that might endanger his flight to freedom and he had feared the young rebel boy.

And now the sounds from across the campsite began to intensify. The obvious sounds of two bodies slapping together with strength and urgency. One of the boys was softly crying out “OH! OH!’ over and over as if unable to contain and quiet himself. The black boy pictured a large white penis, for he had noticed the size of Sean inside his trousers. The sounds went on and on. Mandigo altered his strokes to match the sounds the boys were making, stroking himself now more swiftly, now more slowly. Harder, then more gently. He imagined Sean’s thick white dick repeatedly piercing the cute, very white behind of the smaller, younger boy. His hand flew up and down on his smooth black rod, gripping tighter and tighter, pounding faster and faster.

Drifting from across the way, the other boy’s voice crying out, also stifled but somewhat louder, “Yes, oh my God, yes,” brought the final impulse as Nathan’s slim, dark penis shot forth its stream of thick white cum, coating his black fist and splashing on his ebony chest and thighs.

Morning rose gray and uncertain, the promise of southern summer hung in the air, but a chill morning dew covered all. The boys were slow to start and slow to rise, so the sun was well up before their first coffee. Preston was somewhat easier with the presence of the Negro, but a bit startled when Sean shared his cup with the black. This was going to take some getting used to, but if the south should lose the war, which looked more and more likely, then many lives and ideas would have to change. Pres had decided some days ago that he would wear his gun on his hip now every day. He was somewhat fearful of these uncertain and violent times.

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

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

It all began three years ago, in October. I remember because my wife was visiting her sick mother for an extended period of time.

Feeling unusually alone and commonly horny I had too much time on my hands to consider the most satisfying ways to shoot jizz.

After many lonely nights of jerking off I reflected on the odd realization that many of my fantasies involved scenarios in which I found myself sucking cock. I’m not gay and I find men repulsive, but a meaty cock has always been a great fascination for me.

I always sneak a peek in the locker room – just to compare. Anyway, that’s what I have always told myself. In the end, I concluded that I might like to try cock-sucking. Maybe. Of course, I knew no one I could approach to fulfill my emerging wish.

If I were a girl I would have no problem finding a big dick to lick. Even an ugly girl can get laid whenever she wants. But, as a guy I stood a snowballs chance in hell of asking some stud to let me blow him and having him agree.

Thinking that if I dressed like a woman I could have a taste of forbidden fruit, I tried on my wife’s clothes. They fit fine and my butt and legs looked great. In fact, from the waist down and behind, I looked like a knockout. But my too broad shoulders, large hands, and rough face were ghastly.

Sadly, there was just no way I could make my more masculine features look feminine.

So I turned my focus toward other ways to find someone who would let me service his schlong. Sadly, I couldn’t think of a single plan that would work.

Resigned to a life without ever tasting a “man banana” I put the idea on a shelf and decided I would go out and see if I could pick up a cutie of the female variety for a one-night stand.

It would be Halloween in a couple of weeks and I could be completely anonymous. I searched online for costume ideas when the solution to my problem hit me all at once. It was so simple!

I pieced together a woman’s costume that would cover my manly attributes. What I ended up with was a disguise in which I was a man – dressed as a woman – dressed like a football player. I was pretty pleased with my own ingenuity.

On Halloween, I shaved my legs and face really close. Then I put on my wife’s panties, jeans, socks, bra, and halter-top. I had to buy shoes. I choose flat tennis shoes because at 5′ 7″ I was an average sized man but a tall “woman” and flats seemed best.

Next, I put on football shoulder pads and a powder puff jersey with the pink numbers “52.” Lastly, I wore one of those full-face rubber Halloween masks with an attached blonde wig, a football helmet minus the faceplate and women’s opera gloves.

Looking in the mirror I definitely looked like a girl. Tim had become Tammy.

The secret was in the details. For example, when some unsuspecting man saw me instead of seeing a wig he saw beautiful curls emerging from beneath a helmet. Men who dressed like women on Halloween wore skirts, but not me; I had panty lines. It was a more subtle and more deceptive subterfuge.

There could be no doubt I was a girl dressed like a football player. I wouldn’t win any contests for best costume but I could get into a bar and easily pass as female.

Later, as I entered the bar I ran into an unanticipated obstacle; the Bouncer wanted to see my I.D. I suddenly realized I had a man’s I.D. and a man’s voice. I really hadn’t thought this through.

The fear of getting caught petrified me. “Maybe I should just go home.” I thought. As I fumbled through my purse to buy some time the line behind me started to get long and the bouncer just waved me in.

Once in the bar I sat on a stool and with a shaky hand pointed to a picture on the coaster of a strawberry daiquiri to place my order.

It was a little hard sitting comfortably with my dick stuffed between my legs and I squirmed a bit. Needing to stand, despite my wobbly legs, I walked over to the brass rail by the dance floor to watch the action.

I was feeling edgy but glad that I was so “passable”. I was also really confident that my butt looked better than the oversized tushes of most of the women in the bar.

I guess I wasn’t the only one to think my ass looked great because it was only a moment before a man in a surgeons costume offered to buy me a drink. I nodded my head and watched him walk over to the bar to buy me my first ever gifted drink.

Now I started to feel the feelings, and think the thoughts that women must, at times like this.

I looked at the guy who was buying me a drink (surely with the expectation of something in return) and I began to wonder what he was like. What did he do for a living? Was he rich? What was his cock like?

All I knew was that he was tall and broad, with a firm butt and a rugged face. Wow, I couldn’t believe I was evaluating a guys looks. Even though I questioned if I wanted his cock, or any cock for that matter, I suspected that I didn’t want a cock that belonged to a fat ugly man.

Anyway, Sakarya Escort he looked all right. The one thing I was sure of was that he would give me his cock without a second thought.

When he came back I was nervous and giddy, like a schoolgirl. Was I really going to do this? Would I really let him put his cock in my mouth?

Meanwhile, I couldn’t talk or I would give myself away. But John (that was his name) never seemed to notice. He was so cocky that he did all the talking.

It was real easy to figure out in what ways he was successful, in what ways he was a jerk, what made him cool, and what his flaws were. I had a new perspective as a female.

His hands were all over me and he was standing so close I would have socked him if I had been dressed in my everyday clothes. I was really feeling felt up, when I decided to go with it and react as a slut would.

As soon as I leaned in and put my hands on his arms, it was like I had turned on a green light. If I thought I was being groped before – I was wrong. His hands were on the sides of my (fake) breasts and his fingers were in the crack of my ass. If we weren’t in public he would surely have discovered I had a dick too.

It dawned on me that I couldn’t leave with him without eventually being discovered. So where could we go? I couldn’t worry about that now.

Turning away from the crowd and pressing against him I put my hand in a man’s crotch for the first time in my life. He was hardening and I could feel his manhood trailing at least six inches down his leg.

I licked my lipstick painted lips trying to be sultry. This was virtually the only part of me he could see beneath my costume. I sucked on my straw. He understood my meaning instantly.

Grabbing me by my arm he led me through the crowd straight to the bathrooms. I braced my hands against the doorframe of the men’s room for fear of what was about to happen to me, to my virgin mouth.

Misunderstanding my fear, he said not to worry, that women were taken into the men’s room all the time, and that it was Halloween anyway. I knew he was a liar, as I had never seen a woman in the men’s bathroom in my life.

But the daiquiris left me buzzed and I let him pull me in. His hand stuck firmly to my butt as he compelled me to the last stall.

Once there, he swung me around and moved in to kiss me through the opening in my mask. I saw his mustached lips moving closer to mine and recoiled. Pulling away I fell back on the toilet seat to find myself level with his groin.

Regaining my composure and sense of purpose I rubbed my gloved hands up and down his thighs not daring to go any further. I had a moment of dread and a surge of regret.

Before I could change my mind, he unzipped and had whipped it out. He was half hard and pointing right at the mouth hole in my costume.

I have never seen another man’s equipment so close before. It filled my vision and it was amazing! This was a beautiful cock.

I was right about his size. He was about six inches long, same as me, and nicely thick. He was circumcised and the head of his cock flared out perfectly. I lifted it up and looked him all over. I could see various veins throbbing as they pumped life into this tool.

I was surprised at the heft as I raised the weight of a real penis inches from my trembling lips. His balls were huge too.

Would big balls pump out lots of cum? His nuts were hairless and his dick smelled clean. My thanks to John for taking good care of his johnny.

I cupped one hand under his balls and grasped his meat with my other hand. It was a little awkward with the gloves on but he didn’t seem to mind.

I stroked a cock — another first. And aimed it at my mouth. He stiffened up a bit more and came to full mast. I now estimated it to be about seven inches.

As I pumped, a clear drop of liquid appeared at the tip. I have always found my precum to be sweeter than my cum and I needed to taste his before it got worked into the skin of his shaft.

Hesitantly, I stuck my tongue out and gently licked off the single drop. It was sweet. Just like mine.

Would he be able to tell the difference between a BJ given by a woman and one given by a man?

With an intense second of reservation I overcame the urge to run as I pulled him by the balls and directed the head of his cock right to my lips. Holding just part of his dickhead between my pursed lips was a thrill and I realized my own dick was painfully hard, folded into my wife’s panties and stuck between my legs.

I swirled my tongue around what was in my mouth and pulling up on the shaft with firm pressure squeezed another drop of pre-cum onto my eager taste buds. I yanked a little faster and started to move my lips up and down.

Surprisingly, it required more saliva than I thought it would to get him sufficiently wet to glide into me easily. However, after just a few head bobs I had about three inches Adapazarı Escort going in and out readily. I grabbed his balls with both hands and pulled the rest of him in. He helped me out by pushing his hips forward – far forward.

In retrospect I can see that the inevitable result was gagging and eye-watering. I pulled off as quickly as I could; worried that I would throw-up. I fought to get control of my reflexes. So now I knew that this didn’t come without hazards. I got no sympathy from John.

Swallowing hard I resumed licking all over his cock. I licked all the way up the shaft from his balls to his slit. I licked around and around. I licked both sides. I nipped him very gently. I squeezed him with my lips and I used the flat of my tongue to rub the bottom part of his cock just under the head. He really liked that.

Feeling like I was a little more in control now I went crazy. I used my hands to stroke and pull and then started wanking him into my mouth. I looked up right into his eyes. He was looking right into mine. He had a smile on his face and he nodded as if to tell me I was doing a good job. He kept saying, “You’re beautiful” over and over.

I was shocked for a moment to see that we shared an emotional connection. Again I inserted his thick cock into my mouth and worked up and down creating a solid “O” with my lips.

This time I kept my hand wrapped around the base of this fantastic cock to limit how far he could push down my throat. Sucking as hard as I could and pumping with as much gusto as possible I felt him swell up some. My long awaited reward would finally arrive. He grunted, saying “Oh baby” and grabbed me by the back of my neck.

I suddenly felt like I had made a mistake. From the corner of my eye I saw his arms flex, his biceps bulged, and the veins in his wrists stood up. If I ever wanted to end this I wouldn’t be allowed to now. At this point the conclusion was unstoppable. I would be receiving a load of cum any time now and nothing I could do would change that.

His cock was firmly wedged in my mouth and I felt the head enlarge just before stream after stream of hot cum shot out into me. It filled every crevice in my mouth, completely engulfing me in the taste and feel of cum. It was salty and mildly bitter at the same time, but not unpleasant. It even had an unidentifiable odor.

I felt it in the back of my throat working its way down to my stomach to mix with Johnnie’s well-invested strawberry daiquiri.

I stopped bobbing my head and pushed forward as far as I could, holding him deep in my oral cavity as his spoo erupted. His balls contracted several times; his cock pulsed.

And then, his arms relaxed, no longer forcing my head onto his softening member. Slowly we let his dick slide out from between my lips to hang gracefully in front of me. It was wet and glistening with spit and cum and we were still connected by a sticky white thread.

I took a much needed breath and swallowed then licked my lips taking the rest of his load down into my stomach. I felt very satisfied knowing that I had accomplished something I had wanted to do despite my fears and worries. I had found a man to service despite the odds. I had sucked cock. I had eaten cum. I was a cock sucker and I loved it.

He told me I was pretty: such a liar, he had no idea I wasn’t a girl. And I wasn’t about to let him find out now. He asked me for my phone number. No doubt just an obligatory request to avoid feeling like a heel. I shook my head having not spoken one word yet.

The cum string broke, and looking back at his cock I saw a pearly drop suspended from the end. He thanked me for the blowjob and in response I licked off the pearl. He tucked his beautiful cock back into his pants, zipped and opened the stall door to leave.

I had forgotten we were in a men’s room. There was a small group of men standing around and now they began making comments. One told John he was lucky to have such a willing girlfriend. Then when John said he had just met me, another asked if he could have a turn. John just shrugged his shoulders.

Looking at the crowd I was afraid for my safety. What if they all decided to bang me?

So I grabbed John’s arm and had him lead me out. As we headed out the door John said, “Sorry boys I guess she’s a lady after all.” He was really quite a jerk. A slow anger built up in me and I was glad I had tricked him, really glad! John went over to a group of his friends and I snuck over to a quiet area to rest and recover.

I stayed at a table alone for about twenty minutes nursing a bottle of beer, which was a lot easier to drink through the mask than a drink in a glass. Each time I brought it to my lips I remembered how I had sucked cock and the thought kept my own cock energized within my panties.

I smiled mischievously, remembering each little event that proved I had fooled John into thinking I was a woman on the prowl.

My knees were still shaky and Serdivan Escort as soon as I could walk I would go directly home and relieve myself thinking about a seven-inch dick lodged in my throat.

Just then a man, from John’s group, appeared at my side offering to replace my empty bottle with a full one, which he held out.

He was dressed as Superman. I don’t know why but I took the bottle. I had every intention of leaving. Could it be that he was just incredibly cute?

Furthermore, from the looks of it he already had a woody straining to get out of his pants (well tights). He flashed me a smile full of straight white teeth and slid in next to me as smoothly as he expected his cock to slide into my mouth. He was much more confident than his friend and it showed in every mannerism.

I really was planning to go home. I had done what I came to do. There was nothing left to prove. He put his arm around me, which was somewhat difficult since I was wearing football shoulder pads, next he moved my hand to his lap. His bulge felt intoxicating and I melted in his arms.

“Well, do I dare go again?” I wondered. I pondered how his cock would be different. I was starting to look forward to that moment of no return when I would taste the essence of man. I wanted more salty cum. I wanted another smooth dick notched with the smudges of my lipstick like a staff notched for each accomplishment.

I also felt like it would be a way to relate to this man to whom I could not speak or risk certain discovery. I couldn’t believe I wanted to relate to him at all. But he was incredibly charming. He chatted me up, but unlike John he expected to have

an actual conversation with me.

What was I going to do? I nodded and shook my head answering only yes or no questions. After a time he acknowledged that I must be shy; he accepted me for that.

Was he naturally a warm and accepting person or did he just want the fantastic suck that John had evidently clued him in to?

I rubbed his crotch relishing the little breaks this caused in his stream of speech. I had no power to speak but I had plenty of power: power to stay or leave; power to be led to the restroom again or not; power to give a fantastic blow or power to leave him with blue balls; and lastly I had the power to make him go weak in the knees and surrender his own power to me in the form of a manly gift.

I decided I would definitely go for it. I would suck again!

He stepped out of our booth and walked a short distance. Looking back at me with a head tilt. He expected me to follow. This time I wasn’t to be dragged through the crowd but I was to be made to follow. I had to think for myself and walk to the restroom of my own will. I did it. He only took my hand at the last instant, at the doorway, a signal to the other men that he was giving me permission to enter the domain of men.

No one stopped us. In fact, the men inside cleared a path allowing us unfettered access to the last stall. I went in taking my allotted place on the toilet seat.

Steve, that was his name, stood in front of me caressing my gloved arms, hands, and fingers gently and lovingly.

With new courage I reached out and pulled the costume tights down allowing his rod to spring out. His ball sack emerged next resting atop the elastic of his underwear. He wore tighty whities, not that that matters.

His cock bounced and throbbed. It was fully hard and a darker purple color than the rest of him. John’s skin tone was the same all over so I hadn’t noticed but Steve’s cock not only was darker than his face but the head was a deeper redder purple than the shaft and there was a clear distinction in color on the fore side of his circumcision scar than on the aft

side.

The skin on his dick was stretched taut by the hardness of his erection and there was a slight pleasant musky odor which I inhaled deeply. Evidently, the smell of cock excited me as much as the smell of pussy.

He continued to rest his fingertips lightly on my upper arms allowing me to proceed at my own pace.

The first time I sucked cock I wanted to get it done, I just wanted to make him cum, but this time I wanted it to feel good for Steve, my Superman.

I opened wide and moved forward causing his dickhead to forge its way through my red lips. Dick number two was now grasped firmly within my silent mouth. Yes, I numbered it number two because I knew I would be finding a cock to serve every Halloween.

Steve was hot and hard and he tasted great. I slobbered all over his dick and rammed myself back and forth twisting, licking and sucking like a wildwoman. I didn’t worry about the slurping sounds that everyone in the room could hear. I concentrated only on giving Steve the pleasure my wife had given me so many times previously. I knew what to do and I did it to the best of my ability.

My lips were as slick as I could make them and I fastened myself tightly to his pole rocking back and forth making sure that I had exactly the right combination of slipperiness and friction.

Steve was leaning against the stall door gazing up at the ceiling. I tickled and squeezed his balls. Then I gave his balls a tongue bath knowing how good it feels to be wet and slippery all over.

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It had been a pretty wild night; I woke up parched and hungry. I only half remembered the private show I had done, parts of it came back in flashes like someone flipping through the channels while all hopped up on Red Bull.

I found the guys in my band sitting down to breakfast, so I joined them. The smell of their food turned my stomach. Normally I’m a toast and lots of coffee kind of guy, but this morning nothing seemed appetising. My mouth felt like someone had been walking through it with sweaty athletic socks.

The waitress came over to take my order and I just stared at the menu like it was in Greek. Not a damn thing appealed. Out of habit I ordered coffee and lit a cigarette. The first drag tasted odd; by the second puff I wondered who had switched the tobacco with fertiliser. I stubbed it out and took a sip of the freshly delivered coffee, and promptly wished I hadn’t. It too tasted like someone had taken a dump in it.

Just then the waitress walked past, a glass of tomato juice on her tray, that really looked good, so I caught her attention and got my order in.

“Man your eyes are totally bloodshot, and you look the living dead.” Paul looked at me over his cup of tea, “rough night, huh boss?”

I shrugged, and then took my sunglasses out of my jacket and put them on; the sun coming in through the cheap blinds of the café was giving me a headache.

“That’s what you get for gallivanting off and doing that gig on your own,” Alan laughed, “you need us to keep you out of trouble!”

Paul leaned in and pulled my shirt collar away from my neck, “whoever you were with last night was sort of rough, you have one hell of a hickey.”

Alan added “a bit of a biter, too.”

I must have looked as confused as I felt because Paul dumped his plate of scones and held up the silver platter in front of me. In the reflection I saw what they meant. I had a massive bruise just where my shoulder and neck met, and in the middle of the bruise was a couple of lovely bite marks.

I was saved from commenting by the waitress returning with the tomato juice. My mouth watered as I took the first sip, but then all the spit turned to dust, as the taste was so foul I felt like I was going to throw up. I downed the rest in one gulp, hoping that it was due to a massive hangover and maybe I just was really dehydrated.

I decided to step outside, maybe the fresh air would get the drugged out feeling from my system. The cool shadow of the building felt good, then I stepped out into the sun. The minute the sunlight hit me I felt like I was on fire. I jumped back to the shade and looked at my arms; they were red like I had fallen asleep on the beach for a few hours. “What the hell’s wrong with me?” I asked of no one in particular, so I was quite surprised to get an answer.

“You’ve been bitten by a vampire,” said the voice, I whipped around and there was the chauffeur from the night before, the one I had dubbed Mr. Sunshine.

He was standing in the greenery next to the front entrance and had obviously been waiting for me to come out.

“Yeah, right, a vampire.” I scoffed, “and what are you a werewolf?”

“No, I’m a human. I just work for a vampire.” He stepped up next to me, “Here, catch.”

He tossed a small silver cross at me and out of instinct I caught it in my right hand. As my fingers curled around it, an electrical charge jolted me; I dropped the cross and stared at it like it was going to strike me like a cobra.

“Now, will you listen?” He put his arm around my shoulder and led me to the back of the hotel, careful to stay in the shadows. He motioned for me to get into a limo, with darkly tinted windows and joined me in the backseat, “you have questions I’m sure.”

“Where do I start? OK does this make me a vampire now?” I asked.

“Not yet. You are still half human. You were fed upon but were not given all the blood that you would need to make you a full vampire. Next question?”

“Alright, how to I get back to being all human?”

“You don’t. Your options are to stay as you are or become all vampire. My employer asked me to give you the choices and let you decide. If you stay as you are, you will be able to function mostly as a human but you will not be as you were before. You can go out in Sakarya Escort the daylight provided you cover up your skin, like a vampire must, but overall you are still mortal.” He looked at me then out the window, “you may also decide to let my employer finish what he started and make you all vampire. He doesn’t bestow this gift on many; it’s an honour to be chosen. He admires you. In a lot of ways he is your number one fan. He will give you eternal life.”

“But I wouldn’t I be undead?” I countered, “and I would have to drink blood right?”

“Yes, that comes with the gift,” he waved it off like it was no big deal, “but you would also live forever. There’s no such thing as undead, you would just live on a whole different plain of existence than you are now.”

“Do I have a third option?”

“The third option, of course, is to just die. You can choose to let someone kill you or take your own life, or let nature take its course.” He leaned across me and opened the door, “You have a lot to think about, I won’t keep you. Keep in mind that my employer is awaiting your answer. Do not tarry too long in deciding. He may change his mind and make your decision for you; he is not the most patient being.”

I got out of the limo and made my way back to my hotel room. This is insane, I thought, this has to be some sort of joke. I decided to call my manager, Russ to see if he had any information on the guy that had hired me the night before.

After a few pleasantries I got down to business, I asked Russ for the name and address. He put me on hold for a few seconds, and then came back on the line, “Well, he didn’t leave an exact street address but the name on the bank transfer I got from him was U.N. Knowne.”

He spelled out the last name for me; I jotted it down, looked at it a few times and then groaned. “Russ! You moron! That is ‘unknown’ the guy gave you a false name! I can’t believe you just sent me to some whacko’s home without checking him out!”

“So you’re right.” Russ laughed, “Still, you got your money right? No harm done!”

“You mean, more importantly, that YOU got your money!” I snapped, “As for ‘no harm done’ you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Russ stopped laughing, “You OK boyo? Did something happen that I should know about?”

I was so angry I wanted to reach through the phone line and ring Russ’ neck. “Just forget it!” I yelled then I slammed the phone down.

As the handset met the cradle, the phone shattered into many little pieces and the two front legs broke off the nightstand toppling the whole mess over. Great, I thought, not only am I half leech now, I have monster strength. This is just wonderful.

“You really shouldn’t blame him,” a soft voice opined from the shadows, he stepped out of the shadows, “he did you a favour.”

At first I didn’t recognise him, then a bit of last night came rushing back, the burning red eyes boring into mine, and the feeling of him fucking me as I lost consciousness. I grabbed the lamp from the remaining bed stand and held it like a weapon, “How the hell did you get in here?”

“There are many advantages to being a vampire, one is that we have the ability to go wherever we want to go, and be seen or not seen.”

I rushed him with the lamp held high meaning to crush his skull for what he had done to me, he stepped aside at the last minute, but I whirled around and came back at him intent on inflicting harm. He reached out a hand clamped it on my shoulder and squeezed hard. The pain made me drop to my knees, he knelt down next to me, “Now, let’s be rational” he whispered in my ear, “I can see you’re upset but this won’t do.”

He loosened his grip on my shoulder and moved until he was looking me straight in the eyes, “Take a deep breath. Now go pour yourself some water and calm down”

Despite myself I did exactly as he ordered. I was in the bathroom drinking the water when he came in behind me. “I didn’t think vampires had reflections,” I said.

“Of course we do, that’s a silly old wives tale.” He laughed, “While we’re on the subject, we don’t sleep in coffins either, unless we want to that is.”

“Why me?”

“You mean why did I choose you?”

“Exactly, I mean what do you want from me?”

“Let’s Adapazarı Escort move this conversation to a more attractive surrounding.” He gestured for me to exit the bathroom before him. I sat down on the edge of the bed and he took the chair opposite me. “This is going to be hard for you to understand, so please let me finish before you ask questions.”

He ran his hand through his silver hair and adjusted his jacket before continuing, “I am not into many ‘modern’ aspects of culture, but I was in a shop and heard a song of yours on the PA. Many years ago, far too many to count really, I had a lover who was a musician. He was a mortal, and refused to let me gift him with what I am now offering you. I heard your voice, did some research on you, and I realised that you are the reincarnation of my lover.”

I waited for a few moment before speaking, hoping there was more to this story. “I don’t believe in reincarnation.”

He made a dismissive gesture, “yes, but up until today I bet you didn’t believe in vampires either.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. “I think you’ve made a mistake. I’m sorry about your lover but I’m not who you think I am.”

I expected a counter argument from him, but instead he pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and took out a small square of paper and handed it to me. As I took possession of it I realised it was a photo. An old fashioned black and white photo, fading around the edges. The man in the picture had my face down to the scar I have from the time in basic training when I caught a piece of misfired bullet on my cheek. “This is obviously some sort of trick. It’s been photo-shopped or something. That’s not proof.” I scoffed, although in my heart I knew it was genuine.

He smiled softly taking the picture back from me, “Now you know that you don’t really believe that.” He stood up and came over to me, “I will give you time to think this through.”

He opened the door to leave, but changed his mind, he came back to me and placed his hand on my neck, I felt a warm tingling sensation and then he kissed the top of my head and left.

After I was sure he was gone I stole a look in the mirror, the bruise and bite marks had totally disappeared. I tried to convince myself they were never there in the first place but wasn’t too successful in doing so.

OK this is just getting weirder and weirder I thought. Maybe if I pinch myself I’d wake up, then again, maybe I just need a lot of alcohol to make this all better. That plan appealed a lot more.

I found my way to the hotel’s bar, it was pretty empty that early in the day. Which suited me just fine. I got a bottle of whisky and took it to a corner booth. I looked at the small glass the bartender gave me and figured that wasn’t going to be big enough so I just chugged from the bottle. Classy, I know. After a while of dwelling in self-pity I heard someone clear their throat to get my attention.

“Hey boss?” Paul ventured, “You want to talk? You seem really off today, and um I was wondering if you needed anything?”

I mumbled something about needing to be left alone but he didn’t take the hint. Instead he slid into the booth across from me.

“Holy shit, did you just chug all that yourself?” Paul continued trying to take the bottle away from me. That set me off, I bit his hand then I grabbed the bottle back with a low growl. He pulled back his hand and took a deep breath calming himself. After a few minutes he broke the awkward silence, “OK boss, serious talking to time. You know I’m not a prude but when a man drinks a fifth of something for breakfast there’s something wrong.”

Here goes I thought, you asked for it. “You know that gig last night that I did?”

“Yeah.”

I took a deep breath and steadied myself, “The guy was a vampire. He hired me to play at what I think was some sort of vampire orgy. I don’t really remember all of it, but he bit me. And now I’m part one too.” I searched his face for his reaction to what I had said. Paul sat back and waited as if he expected me to tell him I was only kidding. When I didn’t he rubbed his hands on his jeans and looked away, “I have to ask, are you on something, aside from booze I mean. You gotta admit that’s kind of far fetched.”

“Do you Serdivan Escort remember pointing out that bruise on my neck at breakfast?” I leaned forward, pulling my collar away from my neck, “It’s gone now. This vampire visited me in my room and touched it and it’s gone.”

He placed his hand on my neck and felt for himself. Then he sat back, “Wow boss this is deep shit you’ve gotten into.”

“Do you still think I’m crazy?” I asked.

He laughed, “that doesn’t change, you are crazy. But if you mean do I believe you? Yes. I do.”

The relief of having someone believe me when I wasn’t exactly sure I believed it myself was overwhelming. I told Paul everything I could remember and tried to piece together what I couldn’t and he just sat silently waiting for me to finish.

“I’d offer you a drink” he joked, “But I think you’ve had enough for now. So what now boss? You got a plan?”

It sounded like someone else talking when I suggested that we just forget about all this and go back to my room and fuck. Paul’s eyes widened but he agreed readily.

He stripped hurriedly once we were in my room, already rock hard and proceeded to remove all my clothes. I couldn’t recall feeling this horny since my teen years. I tend to be more passive with a male lover but I flipped Paul on his back and licked his nipples then moved down to his hardening cock and took him deep into my throat.

I lost my self to the sensations of the soft skin over steel, the slightly salty taste of him and thought Paul was getting into it to until he sat up abruptly shoving me off of him. I sat up puzzled, as he ran into the bathroom. I could see him examining himself in the mirror, it was then I realised his cock was bleeding, and had long scratches on his hips as if he’d been mauled by a wild animal. With a slam it dawned on me that he had.

And that animal was me.

Paul came back into the room and sat down next to me. I could feel the heat of his desire but could also see what looked like fear in his eyes. He tried to make light of it, “no blood sports boss, not below the waist, OK?”

He laid me back again and held my arms over my head, resting his elbows on my chest effectively pinning me down, and kissed me. I clamped my jaw shut fighting the urge to take his lip into my teeth.

When his kisses grew more intense he settled between my legs, nudged his knees under me, lifting my hips up and in one fluid movement entered me. I drew a hard breath around his lips, as his slowly buried himself to the hilt and he let go of my arms.

He made no movement for what seemed like forever, just kept himself locked into me and pressed up against me tightly. Then he laid down on me resting his head on my shoulder, as he pulled out and slowly went back in.

I couldn’t concentrate on the feeling of his cock in my ass, I didn’t get hard, I didn’t do anything but try not to stare at the bulging vein of his neck that was exposed to me by his position. I could almost hear the blood rushing, the rhythm of his heart beat drowning out his moans and sighs.

Maybe if I just lightly kiss that vein, I reasoned, that would be enough, maybe then I could give myself over to his efforts. I bent forward and trailed my lips on his neck, but no ,that wasn’t enough.

OK, so maybe a bit harder of a kiss? I pressed my mouth to him and licked the skin feeling the vibration of his pulse. That triggered something in my brain and I had to bite something, I knew I shouldn’t bite him so I put my forearm across my face and bit down hard. Oddly it didn’t hurt, it just felt good like that first drink of water when you have been working out for a while or that first cup of coffee in the morning.

Paul stiffened and came in me and pulled out. Then he rolled over, sat up and then his eyes widened. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed and pulled my arm out of my mouth.

He yanked me off the bed and practically carried me into the bathroom turning the taps on and pulling me forward. I caught my reflection in the mirror, I had the oddest grin on my face and my mouth, and chin and neck were red with blood. My arm was just as red and it ran down to past where the mirror couldn’t reach.

When he turned the tap off and wrapped my arm in a towel, he sat down on the edge of the tub, “you can’t go on like this boss.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“I’ve read enough vampire books and seen enough movies to know that in order to free yourself, you have to kill the vampire that made you. Maybe that’s what we need to do.”

…To be continued…

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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The following is wholly fictional. Comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated!

*

Scott was your typical college male. He was around 5’9″ tall, with short tussled dirty brown hair. Scott was athletic and toned, having played baseball all throughout high school. He was also a ladies man, with a smile and sweet talk that could get almost any woman into bed.

Before freshman year, Scott and I had never met. We were randomly assigned to each other, and instantly hit it off. The pairing was great, as we had similar classes and made a mutual group of friends quickly.

One thing I learned about very quickly, was his love of women. Scott had several regular fuck buddies. They usually came to our dorm room, and I had no problem going about my business so Scott could go about his.

After freshman year, a group of us decided to get a townhouse together off campus. Scott’s exploits with the ladies became more notorious as on more than one occasion we would see two women emerge from his bedroom in the mornings.

Having lived with Scott going on two years, I did see him walk about in his boxer briefs on numerous occasions. I never thought much about it, other than he was very toned, and had a nice ass that I am sure the ladies loved.

One weekend, the guys had gone out of town for a concert, but Scott and I stayed behind. I had an exam to prepare for and Scott had lined up a few of his regular fuck buddies to come over.

I had gone to the library to study, and came into the house through the basement door, which is where my room was located. I heard the television on in the living room, so I walked up the steps to see what was going on.

Nearing the turn at the top of the steps, directly opposite from me, I saw Scott sitting on the couch, stroking his hardened cock! He was wearing only his tee shirt and boxers, with his cock out through the fly. There were around four or five beer bottles on the coffee table in front Sakarya Escort of him, so I figured he had a decent buzz on as well.

I wanted to turn away and go back downstairs, but for some reason I just couldn’t. I stood there, watching Scott stroke what I estimated to be about an 8.5″ long and decently thick cock. I could not take my eyes off of the sight before me. Before I realized it, was own cock was hard, and I had begun to stroke myself through my jeans.

After realizing that I was myself, fully hard, I began to wonder why? I had never done anything with a guy before, and to be honest the thought had never crossed my mind.

Scott continued to stroke his beautiful cock. He would work his hand along the length of the shaft, and when he would near the beautiful mushroomed head, he would close his index finger and thumb around the base of the head tightly, and pull upwards until the head popped out from between his fingers.

Without even thinking about it, my hands instinctively undid my jeans, freeing my hardened cock from its denim tomb. I slowly began to stroke my cock; my eyes totally fixated on Scott’s raging hardon.

Entranced by the sight before me, I had not even realized that I moved further up the stairs, to get an even better view of Scott working his magic. My current position would have allowed Scott a full view of me. I assumed however, that he was so focused on his gorgeous cock, that he would not notice me stroking off to his stroking off. Apparently, I was wrong.

All of a sudden Scott stopped stroking his cock. He leaned forward and said, “Andrew, what the hell are you doing there?!”

I froze, I was caught rosy palmed. Cock in hand. Scott called me out. Should I go back down the stairs, or should I just admit to what happened?

I decided that Scott was probably buzzed enough and horny enough that I could talk my way out of the situation. So I stood up, cock still rock hard, and Adapazarı Escort walked over to the couch and sat next to Scott.

Scott said, “you have quite the boner going there bro, were you downstairs watching some porn too?”

I replied, “actually, this hardon was from the live porno I was just watching.”

Scott looked confused, so I continued “I had never thought about just a guy before, but I literally could not stop looking at or stroking to the sight of your rock hard cock.”

Scott eagerly replied, “oh, so you like looking at my cock, huh? You wanna see more?” I could not help but mutter, “yes.”

Scott stood up, his amazing cock at eye level. “Touch it” was all I heard.

I reached out with an unsteady hand due to my own horniness and reservations about doing anything with another guy. As my hand gripped the shaft, I felt the pulse of his man meat throb in my hand. If my cock could have grown any harder it would have!

Brutishly Scott uttered “get down on your knees, open your mouth, and keep your hands at your sides.”

Without hesitation, I obeyed.

Scott lined up his cock to my mouth, brought the head to my lips and said “I need this more than you do.”

With that, Scott put his hands on the back of my head, and shoved his cock into my mouth. I gagged at the force with which Scott thrust his length into my mouth.

Scott pulled his cock out of my mouth and said “have you had your fill of me yet?”

Meekly I said, “no.”

Scott replied forcefully, “no, that’s all you have to say?”

I uttered, “Scott, please can I have your cock back in my mouth?”

Scott began a small grin as he said, “That’s more like it.”

With that I automatically opened my mouth and Scott thrust forth his cock into my mouth once again. Trying to focus on this new task for me, I closed my eyes.

Realizing this, Scott said greedily, “Look up at me now, while I fuck your face Serdivan Escort with my manhood!”

As I obliged, I could see the lust which filled Scott eyes. I could see in them that I was doing a good job.

Scott quickened his pace, until he pulled out of my mouth with one long pull and said “stay still and don’t move.”

I obeyed.

Scott then placed his cock along my right cheek. Moving it away from my face about six inches, he swung back towards my facing hitting it hard with his raging hardon. Switching sides, he repeated the process on the left side.

Scott then said, “my cock now owns your face.”

Scott continued, “lay down flat on the floor on your back.”

I did as I was told. Scott then positioned himself over me as if he was going to do a pushup, but with his cock lined up to my mouth.

Without even being told, I opened my mouth, and Scott thrust in. His first thrust nearly touched the back of my throat. He made sure on his second thrust that he did.

After several minutes of him thrusting and me gagging, Scott neared his breaking point. He pulled out of my mouth and sat on my chest, his cock pointed straight at my face.

He furiously began to stroke his shaft. Before I knew it, his balls contracted and he exploded onto my face. Shot after shot of thick cum flowed forth from his amazing cock, and covered my face. After the last drop of cum had been milked from his balls, Scott said “if I had known you were such a good suck toy, you would have been eating my cum a long time ago!”

He continued, “from now on, you will suck me off on command, anytime I see fit. I will expect you to be ready, willing and able to take care of my needs, is that clear?”

I replied, “yes Scott, of course.”

He furthered, “good, now go and stroke yourself off, but do not clean my cum off of your face until your done.”

I managed, “yes Scott, thank you.”

With that, Scott grabbed another beer, sat back down on the couch and continued his porn flick. I went to the room, and began stoking my cock until I exploded. I then went to get a hot shower and think about the events that just transpired and the implications they’d have for the rest of the school year.

To be continued…

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

He could not be mad at Klaus. After all, the guy was working himself to the bone. Apparently, being rich didn’t mean sitting on your butt, by a pool, eating ice cream or something. But Jake had to admit that he felt restless without being able to talk to the guy. He had wanted to call a few times but felt guilty at the thought that Klaus was getting too little sleep as it was.

A week was not that long. More than half of it was gone, anyway. Sunday, Klaus was going to be back.

And then what? They were going to have plenty of crazy sex. That was for sure. But after that? More crazy sex perhaps. Jake groaned and buried his face in the pillow. He was going to have to jerk off again, he thought his dick would be raw by Sunday if he wasn’t careful.

The cheerful chime of an incoming message made him jump and hurry for the phone.

“I am sorry we cannot talk. I gave Hans your number. I thought you might like to talk to him. And here is his.”

Jake sighed. But it was nice of Klaus to think that he was bored. And as he was a gamer, maybe he could convince Hans to play online with him. That was a good plan for killing time. So, without thinking too much, he called Hans.

“Hey, good morning cutie, thanks for calling,” Hans’s voice came through, friendly and energetic.

“Hey, man. Oh, shit, sorry. It’s like six o’clock where you live, right?”

“Seven, actually, but don’t worry. I’m an early riser.”

Jake could hear someone else’s muffled voice somewhere in the background.

“When is a good time to call? And sorry again. It sounds like you have someone over.”

“Yeah,” Hans said happily. “A very special guy.”

Now Jake could distinctively hear someone kissing. Good, now he was ruining others’ fun because he had none. He felt pretty much like an ass.

“Sorry about that,” Hans came back. “This guy is just too kissable.”

Hans obviously wanted to brag about his boyfriend. And Jake didn’t mind. Actually, he was pretty interested.

“Would you guys be interested in some PvP? You name the hour. Or maybe your boyfriend is not into that?”

“Stephen? Oh, he is. But he is not my boyfriend. Just some crazy awesome one night stand.”

Now Jake could swear that sound was a well-aimed pillow smack over Hans’s head.

“Well, like 7 or 8 one night stands, to be fair, although I’m not counting the times we did it and it was not during nighttime,” Hans joked again.

“9 nights,” Jake heard someone yell in the background.

“Wow, like coup de foudre or something,” Jake remembered Klaus’s words from that night. He had even looked it up on the Internet.

“I guess you could say that. And how are you? Did Elsa still behave like a frozen bitch around you?”

Jake roared with laughter. The sudden image of Klaus singing Let It Go, while extremely careful about his gloves was making him hysterical.

“But I suppose not,” Hans supplied his own explanation, while Jake was trying hard to regain his breathing. “What did you do to the guy, Jake? Be honest. Where do you keep your kryptonite and what is it?”

“What do you mean?” Jake managed to speak again.

“Come on, don’t be a teaser. Klaus is smitten with you.”

“He is?” Jake could feel the bubbly excitement growing inside his chest.

“Well, I don’t recall ever hearing him say that his lover must be getting bored and that he needs to do something about that. Or use any occasion to mention you, completely out of the blue.”

Jake’s ears twitched.

“Like what? Tell me.”

“Swear you’re not going to be a kill stealer and we can negotiate something,” Hans teased.

“Come on, man. You know I’m good. No kill stealing, I promise.”

“Well, for instance, just yesterday, one of his business associates, a woman in her late sixties, mind you, complemented him on his looks and told him he should be named the most beautiful man in the world. He thanked the lady and told her promptly that she would be wrong, because he had already met the most beautiful man in the world, and he found he had nothing on that guy. Guess who he was talking about? Should I give you a hint? His name starts with J.”

“He didn’t,” Jake protested, but his entire body was starting to get warmer and warmer.

“Oh, yes. And he even dared to insult my beloved to my face.”

“Oh, shit,” Jake murmured. “What did he do?”

“I introduced Stephen to him. And he just said, while still shaking his hand: My Jake is cuter.”

“Fuck me,” Jake mumbled.

“I suppose he did plenty of that, right? He had that ‘I fucked all night’ look all over him when I went to welcome him at the airport.”

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell,” Jake smiled. “But, yeah, he did.”

“I’m glad for you. You sound pretty happy,” Hans commented.

“I think I am,” Jake admitted.

“Good. It was about the damn time for him to settle down.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Jake said. “He told me we would break up.”

Hans remained silent for a moment.

“He did? That is rather strange.”

“I mean, Sakarya Escort I suppose he doesn’t want me to get all clingy and annoying. It’s okay. I mean, you warned me, too, right?”

“I guess,” Hans sighed. “But I’ve known Klaus all my life. I don’t remember him ever being like this. He might have changed his mind.”

“I can assure you he didn’t. He was pretty clear about it, too. Like he always is. You know. Serious.”

“Well, I will not fight you over this. But are you really sure, Jake? And how do you feel about it, by the way?”

“It doesn’t really matter. It’s not my choice, anyway.”

“Hmm, I beg to differ. If you managed to make the almighty Ice Lord swoon over the mere thought of you like a schoolgirl, you can change his mind, too.”

“He’s just a horny bastard,” Jake searched for an explanation.

“Horny? Maybe. But Klaus is the kind of guy who sets his sex schedule so that it doesn’t interfere with his important business deals. I’m telling you, Jake. Whether you want to or not, you are already changing him. He is sharp like always, but he even smiles from time to time now. When he speaks of you.”

“He’s only been there for like four days or so. How did you see all this?”

“Because I have spent part of my time this week helping him with this business project. He practically begged me to get involved so he could finish early and head back to you.”

“Are you recording this? Did he ask you to tell me all this? Because he seems like a totally different guy.”

“No joke, Jake. I mean it,” Hans’s voice turned serious.

“Okay,” Jake said slowly. “I trust you. You’re a cool guy. But wait, isn’t he stealing you away from your boyfriend?”

“I got Stephen to help, too. He’s a lawyer, so he has assisted me in the document review, double checking Klaus’s attorneys. So it’s just an occasion for us to spend more time together. Hey, let’s talk more a bit later? Now we have to get ready to finish our review and report back to Klaus before noon.”

“Sure thing,” Jake said.

After bidding goodbye to Hans, Jake fell into a deep sleep. In the morning, he felt like he was walking on cloud nine.

***

He was just finishing his work on Friday, when he was called over by one of the guys from his brother’s gang.

“Diaz wants to see you,” the man spoke, giving him a dark look.

He just nodded. Most of the time, he had no idea what these guys were thinking or doing. But he had felt like the little kid who was just allowed, sometimes, to play with the grownups, whenever he was with them.

“Now,” the man added, seeing that he made no sign to move.

“Okay.”

They walked in silence all the way. From time to time, he stole nervous glances in the guy’s direction. What was his brother planning now?

“Hey, little bro,” Diaz welcomed him and gestured for him to come closer. “Why didn’t you tell me Nazi boy was out of town?”

“You didn’t ask,” Jake answered, feeling defensive and taking in the gang gathered around them.

“Playing smart again?” Diaz frowned.

“No,” he shook his head quickly. “I just didn’t think it was important enough that you would want to know that.”

“We could have come around and played in that big ass pool,” Diaz grinned, and the others laughed.

“It’s not like I am in charge of the place. There are all kinds of people there. I don’t order them around and decide who gets to get in.”

“Look at you … You’re like a little dog,” Diaz grabbed his nape and shook him. “You could, though. You just don’t have the balls.”

He looked down, staring at his sneakers and not knowing what to say.

“But that’s not why I called you here. I sent for you because I must take care of you, seeing how much of a weakling you are.”

“What?” Jake’s head shot up.

Everyone laughed again and Diaz gestured for one of the guys. The man made way to show Jake a laptop set on an old table.

“Nazi boy thinks we can’t Google him,” Diaz said with satisfaction.

Jake approached the open laptop with dread deep inside his soul. He blinked a few times, unsure of what he was seeing.

“What’s this?” he turned to look at Diaz.

“Are you dumb and blind too? Can’t you see? Dude’s a fag!”

Jake placed one hand on the edge of the table to keep his balance. His blood rushed to his feet, and he felt his stomach twisting. He took another look at the screen. The picture showed Klaus, in his usual business attire, apparently laughing and having fun while another handsome man was holding one hand on his arm and was looking at him with dreamy eyes. His eyes traveled lower. The page must have been translated as he was just able to make out the strange wording. But he could understand quite clearly what past flame and rekindling meant.

“I don’t get it,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly were blurry and hard to focus.

“Your master, the dog owner, is a homo, little bro.”

“And what’s that got to do with me?” Jake said defensively.

“Are you stupid, for real? He might Adapazarı Escort want to grab your ass.”

The gang laughed again.

“Now seriously, did he touch you?” Diaz’s hand came to rest on his nape again.

Jake felt like he wanted to throw up.

“No, what the fuck!” He shook off his brother’s grip. “And even if he is gay, just look at these guys! They’re high class, not street trash, like me!”

Diaz watched him, his eyes narrowing to slits.

“Chill, little bro. I just thought to warn you, in case he tries something.”

“He has no reason to do that,” Jake blushed. “He’s got like supermodels to fuck. Would you fuck some ghetto girl after having playmates lining up to your bed?”

That argument had the power to put Diaz on the right track, it seemed.

“I guess not,” Diaz shrugged. “So, did you catch him banging someone? Maybe we could dig up some more dirt on him to use.”

Jake stared at his brother in disbelief. Diaz thought himself smart, to be capable of standing a chance to go up against Klaus.

“I told you. I barely see the guy. But thanks for the warning, I guess.”

“You don’t seem that grossed out seeing that you’re under a homo guy’s roof.”

“What’s that gotta do with anything?” Jake shrugged. “His money is good, right?”

Diaz grinned, showing teeth.

“Right. Right, just don`t sell yourself and us out at the same time, little bro, okay?”

Jake wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“I can kick his ass if he tries something,” he set his chin high.

“I suppose a pansy ass like him doesn’t have it in him to fight for real.”

“Some say that five Wanderers got it good from him one night,” one of the men talked.

Jake froze.

“Wanderers are pussies. But that’s just trash talk. Some idiots think this Metzger guy is the shit or something. So they just invent stuff.”

Jake hoped it wasn’t visible the way he exhaled in relief.

“Anything else?”

“What? In a hurry to get back to that cool ass house?”

“No. I’m just tired. I worked all day at the construction site.”

“Hey, we worked too. Come. Drink a beer. And don’t forget where you come from, all right?”

He just nodded. He didn’t want to spend time with the gang. Ever since he had met Klaus, his life had been completely different. And he liked it. But he could not say no. Not to his brother.

***

He got back late that night, murmuring some excuse to Agnes and headed to his room. And then, he started searching. If Diaz who had the Internet skills of a monkey, could Google Klaus, so could he.

He stared into the phone screen, finding multiple hits. That man had never looked bad in his life. At least, what the image search could return showed only his good side. Who was he kidding? There was no bad side for Klaus.

He hesitated for a couple of seconds, and then he went for it. Boyfriends, relationships, anything the tabloids could feed him, he began devouring it. At first, he felt at ease. It was just natural curiosity, right? But soon, his thoughts began shifting, and he became more and more uncomfortable in his skin.

What was Klaus doing with a guy like him? When he had said supermodels, he had done it just to prove a point to Diaz. But Klaus had, indeed, dated guys modeling for underwear, cologne, watches, and all kinds of stuff. And those were not the only ones. Fashionable celebrities, hip entrepreneurs and even a few actors had gone through Klaus’s bedroom.

And they were all amazingly good looking. If Klaus wanted to have a calendar with beautiful men for each year of his life, he could probably make that happen, just by rounding up the guys he had slept with.

The more frustrating part was, however, how tight-lipped everyone was about their relationships and ending things with the man. Tabloids did their fair share of taking pictures and whatnot, but there were no details, otherwise. Jake had at least half of brain and he knew what speculations were.

After two hours, he felt depressed. Klaus had come into this shithole, found nothing better to do, and decided to pick up a stray from the streets, for no other reason that he needed to get his dick wet. Jake was nurturing some stupid feelings, and the guy had been clear about not getting involved. And that was leaving him with a nasty emptiness inside his chest and a bad taste in his mouth.

What was he hoping, anyway? Nothing, he hurried to reply. He had said something stupid, and Klaus wanted to hear that again, but, otherwise, he knew very well where he stood. Soon enough, he was just going to be one in a string of lovers, and not even special in some way. Actually, he was special. In a bad way. He was, clearly, the only one without a pedigree.

“Fuck,” he murmured and closed all the tabs on the browser.

And, on top of it all, Klaus had no problem with flirting with some guy, like right now. He had seen the date in that article. It had been published this week. That means that Klaus had decided Serdivan Escort he was not going to go many days without fucking something. The guy in that picture was handsome, too. Jake had nothing on that guy.

Maybe it was for the best if he just left. Of course, not without telling the guy, because he didn’t want to cause trouble for his brother. Also, because he wanted to confront Klaus. The man always said he never lied, but that shitty picture proved the exact opposite. Klaus had promised just before he left that he was not going to fuck around.

He was not going to be the guy who got fucked on the side. It was true that he had no experience with this sort of relationship and everything, but he was sure as hell, not going to be kept as a fuck toy, and used only when there was nothing better available.

The decision was a good one. It was making him feel like crap, but it was a good one. All he had to do was to wait now, for Klaus to come back. It was going to be nasty, and he was probably going to regret everything, but he still had his pride. He was not ready to let go of it, just because Klaus was good at fucking. Or because he was taking Jake to nice places, and promising him that he could go to school and get a diploma. Or because he was so handsome. Or because he was talking to him and making him feel good about himself.

Or because Jake was terribly, hopelessly, stupidly in love with him.

***

He had gotten the message and now was waiting in Klaus’s room. It was the best course of action, seeing that he needed to get out of there and fast, and not just dally around, once he had that ugly conversation with the guy.

“No come back this time?”

He read the second message.

“Okay. Come home already.”

He hit send and waited.

“Someone is impatient.”

What could he reply to that? Klaus was playing him, like the fool he was. He could hardly wait to get this conversation over with, call it quits on this whole relationship or deal, whatever it was and get the hell out of this place. There wasn’t another message, and he chose to remain silent. Standing by the window, he began tapping his foot. His palms were getting a bit sweaty, so he began to wipe them against his jeans. Those had to be given back, too. He didn’t need anything from the guy.

The limo stopped in front of the house, and Jake could feel his heart seem to skip a beat at the sight of the man. Klaus was looking sharp as always, no one would have thought he was coming back from an exhausting business trip.

No moment like the present, he drew a deep breath. When the door opened, he was ready.

“Knock knock?” Klaus said, a small smile spreading across his lips.

He had to take some of the things he thought back. Klaus was a tad tired, but even that made him look good. He was tired in an aristocratic way or something, the tiniest shade of dark under his eyes, and nothing else.

“Hey,” he spoke, suddenly not knowing what to say.

His throat was dry, yet he could feel cold sweat pouring down his spine. Klaus’s smile began to falter, and the man placed his briefcase on a chair, then leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, and taking a long good look at Jake.

“To what do I owe this very cold welcome?” Klaus asked.

“You should know!” Jake lashed out, but immediately felt like clamping his hands over his mouth to keep from saying anything more.

Klaus frowned.

“Maybe I should, but it looks like I am at a loss right now. Please enlighten me.”

Jake was stealing nervous glances around the room.

“You know,” he said again.

“You are testing my patience, and I just returned from a long trip with one single wish in mind.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like being welcomed properly by my lover. After that little movie you sent me, I was hoping to find you in more suitable attire and sprawled on the bed. Definitely not to see you so passive-aggressive and ready to fight.”

“Maybe someone else could do what you want better than me,” Jake mumbled. “Like that Sebastian dude.”

“Sebastian?” Klaus seemed surprised.

“The guy you fucked while away,” Jake said. “You can be a cheater, I don’t care. But don’t be a fucking liar, okay?”

Klaus sighed.

“Although I must admit that I find this little jealousy scene cute, I am quite affronted. Your accusations are false. Anything else?”

Jake could not believe what he was hearing from Klaus. This guy thought he was stupid.

“Do you really think I’m retarded? I saw you! In the newspapers online!”

Klaus’s frown deepened now.

“You are the one who is insulting the other here, Jake. Do not make the mistake to anger me. You have three seconds to get naked and in bed. Otherwise, I will be very mad.”

“Be mad. I don’t care. What you gonna do? Beat me up?”

“You know very well that I am not against physical punishment. One. I will make the seconds longer, to give you time to reflect on whether you want this to be my welcome home party or not.”

“You cannot do this! You cannot treat me like this!”

“I can and I will,” Klaus took off his coat and placed it on the back of the chair. “Two,” he added as he began pulling at his tie.

“I cannot believe you! Will you just beat me because I think you’re a cheater?”

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