Attorney Client Privilege

• This is a work of fiction. My experiences and likes influence all my writing, so there might be a nugget or two of truth somewhere within, but don't worry, it's carefully hidden... Any similarity with actual people or places is entirely coincidental.

• This story involves interracial sex between adult men. There is lot of crude stereotyping, role play, nasty and demeaning language and other things that might be called kinky or just plain ignorant. If any of this offends you, please leave now.

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Attorney-Client Privilege

It all started innocently enough. But power, in any form, and to any degree, is intoxicating and addicting.

It's amazing how you can go from just doing a hard day's work to an interesting opportunity. From an interesting opportunity to an abuse of power. From an abuse of power to the gluttony of someone who throws all caution and common sense to the wind the moment he gets used to getting what he wants. And it can start so innocently... Just a taste can be enough...

Call me Sy. I'm a young lawyer here in the South. Totally middle class. Good public school education. I come from a good family. My parents are still married and live at the coast. Lots of friends and a pretty full life. Like so many of my peers these days, I judge my popularity by Facebook and Instagram. My 800+ friends, most of whom of don't really know or remember, make me feel like a good guy every time I log in.

Sy is what I've been called since I was a kid. Sy may sound like an ethnic name, but I couldn't be more White Anglo-Saxon Protestant if I tried. It's short for Alfred Pearce Symington, IV. Sy was my grandfather's nickname - and with a name like Alfred I've always been happy to be called anything else. I don't come from a rich family, but one that definitely values tradition. That "fourth" at the end of my name means I've had a responsibility on my shoulders from the time I was old enough to learn something about life. My family expects great things from me. Each generation is supposed to expand on the achievements of their predecessors. So far I'm on the right path. I'm moving slowly upward - perhaps more slowly than my parents would have preferred - but I'm doing things at my own pace. I know the expected path and I'm content to go down that road, but I move deliberately and cautiously. I have some hurdles to jump over, but not many realize my path is more complicated than my friends and family can imagine.

Well, nearly all my friends...

Catherine and I have been close since college. We were friends for years before we started dating. We remained friends after the dating went nowhere. She fell in love with me. I loved her as well, but not in the same way. She wanted to get married and have a family - with me. My compass was pointing in a different direction. I cared enough about her, and grew so used to her company that I was willing to try anything. But I wasn't being honest with her and wasn't being close to honest with myself. Our relationship was doomed to failure from the jump.

The first month I got to college I acted on an impulse and attraction to men. The internet and a college town made finding sex easy. With guys you meet online it was always convenient and easy. Finding a good place to meet was the hardest part. The day I discovered the chat rooms and Craigslist I sucked my first dick. Before the sun set the very next day I had been fucked. By the end of the first month I had bought more condoms than I had packs of cigarettes. I was on my way.

I had been with my tiny share of girls. I lost my virginity to a cute blond girl my senior year in high school. I liked to cum, but sex seemed a little distant to me. I enjoyed jacking off more than I did fucking. I liked the company of women, but intimate contact made me uncomfortable. At 18 I was already fucking women like husbands who have been married to the same woman for 30 years. It was fast, dark and businesslike. They never complained (to me!) and I just assumed this was the way the world worked.

Until I got to college the idea of doing something with another dude was just a late night fantasy. It was something that embarrassed me to even think about - except for those late night moments when the urge took over and reason gave way to lust. I looked at porn videos and magazines, but I wasn't looking at tits.

I had been playing the hookup game for years by the time that Catherine and I moved from friends to lovers. Had it not been for Sam, I might have been able to pull it off with Catherine. Hell, she and I might be married by now were it not for him. Although she didn't realize it at the time, Catherine owes Sam a debt of gratitude. He saved her years - perhaps a lifetime - of a frustrating, hollow marriage.

Sam was the first dude I really fell for. Well, the first dude I became totally obsessed with. I won't call it love since I don't think that's necessarily an accurate term. But I was all up in his shit, put it like that.

Sam was a couple of years older than me. We talked online and on the phone for weeks before we finally met. I learned a lot more about him than I ever knew about any of the other dudes I fucked with. He was bi (as I considered myself at the time) and lived with his girlfriend and their young son. I didn't like meeting people at my house due to my roommate and Sam's place was obviously rarely free. The lack of a convenient hookup spot kept us from meeting just long enough for him to tell a story that pushed buttons I didn't even know I had. Sam was the first guy I was attracted to in more than just a physical way.

Sam was also a black guy. Now being totally frank, he didn't tell me he was black until after we had talked for a while. I never thought I prejudiced in a formal way, but I had never been with a black guy. Latino and Persian was as dark as I had been on the color scale. I didn't intentionally set out to exclude black guys from my online searches and hookups, but I just sort of naturally ended up between the legs of guys who looked like me. It was what I knew.

Sam changed that.

He was confident, comfortable with his desires and masculine to the bone. The night of our first chat he told me, with some feigned embarrassment, that he liked to be worshiped, to be the center of attention. He told me later that he pretended to be a little embarrassed since he wasn't sure how I would respond to that kind of bold approach. His trick worked. He might have scared me off if he had popped that on me directly. By being smooth with his game he just left me intrigued. Being the first guy who had ever talked to me about sex, rather than just talking shit to me during sex, he had me hooked before we ever met. Now I recognize and appreciate a good talk game. Back then I was just in a daze. The night we finally met in person he fucked me raw twice. I would never have dreamed of letting a dude breed me before Sam. But he didn't offer and I didn't ask. He knew I wouldn't object. He had spun that web and had me wrapped around his finger, only it wasn't his finger I was wrapped around from that day forward.

The second time I had sex with Catherine I had Sam's cum in my ass. It was his face and body I was thinking about as I was trying to fuck my best friend. Needless to say Catherine went to sleep that night unsatisfied. My mind was elsewhere.

Over the coming weeks the dissatisfaction extended beyond the bedroom. I was cancelling plans with Catherine to see Sam whenever he had a few free minutes. I missed a long-planned weekend trip to the beach with Catherine and her family so I could suck Sam's dick for five minutes in a car behind a grocery store. It seemed perfectly logical to me at the time.

The deal breaker was leaving Catherine's birthday dinner early. We were there with a dozen of her (our) friends. Sam texted and wanted to see me. Thirty minutes later she was still sitting at dinner seething and crying with her friends over me being such an asshole, when Sam was buried balls deep in my asshole. The irony was lost on me at the time.

Sam found my button. And he was pushing it hard. I had spent my whole life being popular, outspoken and friendly. I was a natural leader. I was president of several groups in school and was respected. Most likely to succeed. I went from college to law school and one day soon I would be a boss.

But Sam introduced me to submission.

I had always been a bottom. I was happier sucking dick than getting sucked. But it wasn't anything dramatic. I wasn't a queen. I considered myself masculine. Getting fucked didn't make me feel like less of a man. I just liked dick.

Sam was my first taste of a alpha dog. I learned to savor giving in. I learned the pleasure in focusing on the pleasure of others. Sam told me on day one that he liked to be worshiped. He triggered a desire in me to worship another. My sex life hasn't been the same since.

As things with Sam started to get more intense, I knew instinctively that he and I wouldn't be together for long. Submission can be fun, but when it becomes an obsession and bleeds over in to other aspects of life it can be too much. Sam was my first rodeo. He also taught me that sometimes you have to get off the bull (no pun intended) when the ride gets too dangerous.

Realizing what I had done to my best friend was what finally brought me back to the land of the living. When some of our friends cornered me and made me listen to how much pain I had caused Catherine, I finally had to reexamine my priorities. I had been willing to give up the greatest friendship of my life just to lick Sam's balls for five minutes. It was time for an intervention.

I loved Catherine enough to go out on a limb. I needed her to forgive me. I needed my friend back. I told her about the guys.

Once she realized why I couldn't commit to her, or to any girl, she immediately forgave me. She was a true friend first and foremost, so she jumped from suspicion and anger to concern and loyalty. She was, and is, a far better friend to me than I ever was to her.

I told her about sex with men. I didn't tell her about Sam.

As close as Catherine and I were, I still didn't feel comfortable telling her about Sam. I didn't mind telling her I sucked dick, but I couldn't quite tell her I was a sub bottom for an alpha black stud. I guess I was embarrassed. It was one thing to be gay or bi. It was quite another to be a freak. Regardless, Catherine was back and I was happy. No one ever tells the complete truth. We all have our secrets.

You need to meet one more friend before I really begin my story.

Everyone needs a confidant. A closeted gay or bi guy doesn't often have a friend or group of friends to talk about sex with. I didn't.

Until Duda came in to my life.

Being in the closet can be lonely. If you don't have someone to bounce ideas off of, someone to unload on, I think it can be frustrating and even corrosive. Hookup sex, especially gay hookup sex, can be very isolating. In the moment it can be awesome, but after the glow fades - and it can fade fast - you're sometimes left feeling completely alone. After a while it starts to take an effect. Plus you don't have anyone to share achievements with...

Catherine knew about me now. She knew I liked guys. She knew I got fucked. But she didn't know the grimy, taboo details of what I really enjoyed. Telling her the basics got me back in her good graces, but it didn't give me that sounding board.

One of the things about role play is that we all make assumptions, either by choice or necessity. We assume what others will like. Sure there are signals and cues that affirm or deny our assumptions, but there's still a lot of assumptions that go untested. And for me, the mental game was key. Sam made that clear. I liked getting mind-fucked too. I wanted to understand how it all worked... I needed an insider.

Thank God for Duda.

We met in school, but only barely. He was a friend of a friend. The guy you run in to at parties and the bars. I thought he was hot, but even then I knew he was straight as an arrow and, even if he leaned my way, he was out of my league. Black, medium complexion, trim but athletic build, dreadlocks and one of those broad smiles that he deployed just often enough to keep a little group of female admirers around him at all times. He also had this knowing little smart-ass smirk that I thought was very revealing. He seemed like the guy that knew stuff others didn't. Flashy but in a low-key way. Someone who was comfortable in his own skin and who recognized he was attractive, and more than just physically. People wanted to be around him.

We were barely acquaintances in college. If he even remembered my name in those days I'd be surprised. It was cool though. I admired him even then, but I didn't loose any sleep over him either. I might have jacked off wondering what his dick looked like once or twice, and maybe a fantasy about him wearing me out in one kinky way or another, but hell that could be said for hundreds of dudes I might never get close enough to smell much less feel.

In my final year of law school I saw this dude moving in to an apartment in my complex early one Saturday morning. The dreads caught my attention first and his fat ass made me keep looking. I was thinking about how much more attractive his addition was going to make my neighborhood, but I moved on to other things as he moved out of view.

Later that weekend I ran in to the dreaded newcomer in the parking lot. As soon as I got within 5 feet of him I recognized Duda. He may not have recognized me, but I made it easy for him and he was polite enough to pretend he remembered me as well.

For a few months we saw each other occasionally. One night I invited him up to watch a game and drink some beer. From that point on we started hanging out. He liked to drink a lot, and I liked to watch him get drunk. He would have four drinks to my one. By the time I was two drinks in, he was wide open and the filters were gone.

He liked to talk about sex. I liked to listen. Of course I was thinking about him fucking me like the chicks in his stories, but I knew it was just a fantasy. It was fun though. A good distraction at a minimum. He was a neighbor and we had a history, so I wasn't sweating the likelihood of sex. Frankly I just liked to hear his stories.

He was an alpha dog with the women in his life. No relationships, just lots of girls. He had girls paying his bills and cleaning his apartment and sometimes all he gave them in return was a dick in their mouth or a sore hole. I was hanging on his every word!

One night he came right out and asked me if I liked dudes. I came right out and told him yes. I figured what the fuck? He said he figured it out since I didn't come at him with my own stories of chicks to counter or at least try and compete with his. He said he was cool, that he didn't swing that way, "no homo" as he called it, but he didn't act any differently around me. We continued to hang out.

I still enjoyed his stories. I still kept him plied with alcohol in the hope he would tell me a detailed story of gagging some girl with a furious facefuck, or his favorite ass-to-mouth encounters. He was like a straight Sam. Total alpha and he loved to flaunt it.

Over time I could tell he wasn't opposed to hearing some stories about me, especially after a drink or two. I started slow. I was building him up to the final truth. I figured he was a freak with his shit, and since he wasn't grossed out at the idea of me and my sexual interests, he wouldn't pitch a fit. But still I wanted to get there in pieces, just in case.

It took me a while but eventually he figured it all out. He knew I got in to role play and that I liked to submit. He knew I liked black dudes. He even figured out that I probably liked him. He was cool about it, didn't address it directly, but just made statements like "I mean I'm not down with that shit, but I know what ya mean," or "I can see doing that to a broad." We finally had an understanding. We could talk about anything, but I wasn't getting in his pants. He knew I liked to hear his stories and he seemed at least a little interested in some of mine.

Over time I got as blunt with him about my sexual conquests as he had been with me all along. He never flinched.

One drunken evening we verbalized our arrangement. I was using him to get the alpha dog's perspective. He was using me to get the female's perspective. I wasn't offended. I hadn't really thought about it, but he was right. In his world I was playing a female role. So my thoughts and reactions were not dissimilar from those of the girls he fucked. Since he was just the type of dude I found myself attracted to, it was easy to learn from him what was happening in the mind of the alpha dom.

Duda became one of my best friends ever, and unquestionably one of my best resources. I never even got to cop a feel on him, but what I got was far better than hard dick. I got hard intel. And his company, of course.

So now you know me, something about my life and a little something about my two best friends.

Now it's time to learn about my daytime love, the law.