BBC on Campus

My usual disclaimers:

• My experiences are in everything I write, sometimes an image that I recall, sometimes much more. This story, however, is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

• If it is illegal for you to read this story because of your age, location or some other reason, don't read it.

• This work is copyright by the author. Commercial use is prohibited without permission. Please do not republish any parts of this story without consent of the author.

• This story depicts unprotected sex. In real-life, be safe!

Consider a donation to support Nifty! Http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter finished.

If you like, love or hate the story, let me know! I enjoy hearing your reactions. Email: coltonaalto@gmail.com.

BBC ON CAMPUS

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – HONKY TONK SALOON

The restaurants around Westcliffe left much to be desired. The University Club, where I met Akili Brooks for dinner, was okay for steaks. The culinary star of the area might have been a dynamite, greasy spoon Mexican place called Casa Miguel that was popular with the college kids. Beyond that, the restaurant scene was flooded with mediocre bar food – burgers, sandwiches, burritos, generic pizza and pasta.

However, on the highway fifteen miles from town, I discovered a great deep-dish pizza place called Marco's Supper Club. The supper club name was left over from the 1930s when Marco's was a fancy restaurant. But as the years took their toll, the place had become a dive. The dining room was tiny and most of the building's space was given over to half a dozen pool tables and a big art deco bar that served cheap Pabst Blue Ribbon and Budweiser. Coors Light was the high end beer, although the bar had recently stocked a microbrew, a Scottish ale, that wasn't bad. Montana's 2009 smoking ban might have ended indoor smoking, but decades of earlier smokers had imbedded the stench of cigarette smoke in Marco's floors and woodwork.

The clientele at the bar consisted of cowboys from the surrounding ranches. They got drunk, played pool and watched sports, while chasing the few women that chanced the place. Marco's hadn't caught on with the college crowd, but that could happen at any moment, because it was the type of dive that ran the risk of becoming trendy overnight.

For some reason the chef at Marco's knew Chicago style pizza, and the place did a great take out business. When I got a craving for pizza, I suffered through the dingy dining room because the worst thing to do to a good pizza is to subject it to a cardboard box. The bar patrons gave me a wide berth, not quite knowing what to make of a 6'5" black man with long dreadlocks that worked at the University, didn't wear shit kickers, and dined alone. That was fine with me.

I made a later-than-normal run to Marco's shortly after my snowshoeing adventure. After ordering pizza and a beer, I stepped into the john, only to be greeted by a show that I never expected to see. One of the bar's cowboy patrons was leaning against a wall. His jeans and underwear were pulled down to his knees, and another man was on his knees giving the cowboy a blowjob. A third cowboy stood nearby, stroking his cock and waiting for his turn at the cocksucker's mouth. I considered turning around, but the trio was making no effort to hide or even be discreet, so I casually walked to the urinals as if nothing unusual was happening. I was to find out that, indeed, the scene wasn't unusual.

I couldn't make out the cocksucker's face until I got to the urinals, but once I did, I realized three things. First, the cocksucker was the best looking guy I had ever seen in Marco's. Second, I had seen him before. And third, the man administering the blow job was Ben, Jake's twentysomething son.

Jake Westbrooke, the University professor who owned the biggest ranch around and had taken my cock repeatedly on the wild night after the poker game at his house, had a gay son. Or at least a son that was giving blow jobs. There was no sign that Ben was slurping on the cowboy's pole involuntarily. Ben was drunk and had the dazed look of a guy on drugs.

When I met Ben briefly at Jake's, I thought he looked like a young Jake Gyllenhaal, compared to Jake's older version. Ben had Gyllenhaal's dark hair, and his face was graced by a scruffy beard, and prominent eyes.

"Yeah, suck it, cocksucker," the cowboy moaned. It frankly didn't look like the cowboy had a whole lot for Ben to suck on, but Ben knew what he was doing and the cowboy was loving it, his eyes closed and periodic moans of appreciation escaping his mouth. I got an eyeful as I drained my bladder. Maybe there was more gay sex in Montana than I assumed. Maybe too many cowboys and not that many women to go around?

Waiting for my pizza, I watched as the two cowboys exited the rest room and motioned to a buddy, who disappeared into the rest room. He was inside longer than it took to take a piss or even a shit, but just long enough to feed a load of cum to Ben. The cowboy emerged and yet another ranch hand took his turn. And then another. The parade continued as my pizza arrived and I started eating. I was almost finished when the last cowboy to take his turn exited. A few minutes later Ben emerged with glassy eyes.

He looked at me and smiled. "You're a friend of my dad's," he said, slurring his words. "You wanna blow job? I'll suck you off. I've sucked off everybody in the place that wants to drop a load. You gotta big dick?" When I didn't respond immediately, Ben continued, "Or I'll be your bitch. You can fuck me in the ass. I know how to get into the storeroom in back."

Damn, I thought. Where was this man when I needed him? A blow job or a butt fuck was exactly what I wanted for dessert, because with finals underway, Jesse and Travis were busy studying, I was three weeks away from my monthly fuck of Kent's ass, and it had been a few days since Kyle and his friends had serviced my cock at the mountain hut. Plus, Ben was hot. He resembled his father. The same strong, rugged face, broad pecs and muscular arms. His shirt was open halfway, and I could tell his chest wasn't as hairy as Jake's, but maybe in time Ben would grow the same lush rug Jake had.

Despite the opportunity dropped in my lap, I didn't accept Ben's offer. It wasn't that the setup bothered me. I had dumped plenty of loads in rest rooms – most recently in the Latin boy's ass at NYU on the trip to New York with Shane. I didn't give a shit if we had an audience, either. If guys wanted to watch my big black cock sink into some guy's holes, fine with me. Did I decline because Ben was too easy? Maybe, but probably not. As much as I like the challenge of hunting down a guy, I had fucked plenty of easy targets. Something didn't feel right about using Jake's son while he was obviously out of it.

"Maybe later," I said. Ben's eyes were unfocussed and he staggered as he took a step forward. "You wanna sit down?" I asked.

"Yeah," Ben said, easing into a chair. I ordered him a cup of coffee, and the waitress brought an entire pot. "Good luck sobering this one up," she commented wryly.

I hadn't planned to stay longer than necessary to finish what little remained of my beer, but as Ben drank the coffee, he began to talk. "Guess you didn't expect that my old man's son would be the biggest cocksucker in Montana," Ben said.

"Not really," I conceded.

"Ha! This is tame compared to what I did in college, back east," Ben said. "Five arrests for lewd behavior. I had to have my ass sewn up twice. Anal fissures, they called it. If you take enough cock up your shitter, eventually your ass gets torn. Ripped to shreds."

"I've heard that," I said. I knew a Texas kid at MIT who had been raised in a very conservative, religious family. When he came out, he went crazy and was totally obsessed with sex. He spent every night for a month in the gay cruising areas in the Fens, a natural park in Boston close to Fenway Stadium. In case the foot traffic in the Fens wasn't sufficient, the guy set his Grindr profile to advertise his smooth body and available ass. The kid was hot and had no trouble getting guys to fuck him. As the month wore on, word got out as gay men texted about the `Fen twink.'

Bizarrely, the kid kept count of the cocks he serviced with his ass, and the number went well into triple figures before the anal tears sidelined him. He was lucky that he had asked guys to use condoms. He didn't do it because he was being safe, but because he wanted to eat the cum of the guys that fucked his ass.

With the issue of anal fissures behind us, Ben launched into his story. He was 14 when he lost his virginity, to a college student at Westcliffe. Once Ben's cherry was gone, the student's cock lived in Ben's ass, and he passed Ben around to his friends, too. Ben was only too happy to service the whole group. He never knew if Jake found out about the affair, but shortly after, Jake decided Ben needed the discipline of a boarding school and shipped Ben back east.

"I was the outsider from the west in a school populated by kids from the east coast, and in the first week, I got in a fight with one of the older kids," Ben recounted. "After that, some of the seniors and juniors decided to teach the Montana ranch boy a lesson. One night in the student dorm, a couple of guys snuck up behind me and grabbed me, slapping some duct tape over my mouth and putting a black cloth bag over my head. The kind of bag you see in old pictures of men being lynched. From their voices, I pretty much knew exactly who the guys were, but I guess they didn't think to keep silent.

"The group hauled me to the woods behind school, took my clothes off and stuffed me into an inner tube that the boarding school kids used for riding the rapids in the stream nearby. The center of the tube was open, and my hands and feet were tied so that I wouldn't slip all the way through the tube. The guys hoisted the tube into the trees and tied it there. I hung three feet off the ground, with my bare ass dangling through the hole in the tube. One-by-one guys in the group stepped up and fucked my ass as I swung helplessly, my wrists and ankles bound and the bag tied over my head. Some of the kids were reluctant to do me, but cheap bourbon and peer pressure took their toll and eventually every guy in the group had dumped a load of teen cum inside me. I could feel it dripping from my ass.

"Things got worse. A police patrol spooked the group, and they split in a panic, leaving me tied in the tube, alone in the woods. The cops didn't spot me, however. After the scare, the kids didn't want to risk returning to the scene, so one of them called a teacher to report that I wasn't in the dorm, although someone had seen me walking toward the woods. The guys figured if I ratted on them, it would be my word against theirs, and since I hadn't seen any of their faces, they wouldn't get nailed.

"The rescue didn't quite work out as planned. The teacher showed up, decided that my cum soaked hole looked too good to pass up, added his own load to my pussy, and called two of his friends to join the fun. After the trio was done, the teacher left, but returned shortly to let me loose, thinking I wouldn't recognize my rescuer as the man who had just enjoyed fucking my ass. But I put two and two together and knew exactly what had happened."

Ben paused and leaned forward, looking directly in my eyes. "The thing was," he added, "I loved every minute of it. I loved it all. The kids fucking me, the teacher and his friends fucking me, even getting kidnapped. The only things that would have made it better would have been if it lasted longer and the kids had tortured me. My ass was raw and sore, but I still wanted a dick inside me.

"Given I had enjoyed the night so much, I wasn't about to rat on anyone, so I made up a story about being outside the dorm – breaking curfew – when some students from another school captured me and tied me up. The perpetrators were grateful that I hadn't fingered them, and decided I must be okay. That meant I got a free pass from more hazing, although ironically, that wasn't what I wanted. I would have been perfectly happy to become the school fuck slut, bullied into giving up my holes to every boy in the school.

"I casually passed the word to some of the older guys that I didn't mind what happened, thought it was fun, and if they wanted a blow job or as ass to fuck, I was their boy. Several kids took me up on the offer, including two guys that I serviced at least once a week until they graduated. But the ringleader of the group that kidnapped me, a guy named Ryan, was the main beneficiary of my willingness to take cock. He had spotted me on the first day of school and thought I was hot, and then planned the whole kidnapping thing in hopes of getting his cock in my ass. Not only did his scheme get him exactly what he wanted, now I was offering my teen butt to him to use at his whim, whenever he wanted.

"And he wanted it every day, at 6:00 in the morning. The boarding school staff closely supervised the student dorms at night, so while some messing around inevitably occurred, it was risky. But it never occurred to the staff that groggy teenagers would be awake at the crack of dawn, much less fucking. Ryan made me set my alarm to go off 30 minutes before the rest of the dorm got up. I had very precise instructions. First, hit the bathroom, shower and clean my ass out, and lube it up. Next, let myself into his room and strip. Finally, crawl into Ryan's bed and wake him with my mouth, sucking on his dick. As soon as Ryan's dick was hard, he would roll me on my stomach and pound my ass until he dumped his load inside me. He was usually fast. Then I had to clean his cock off with my mouth. It wasn't long before he started making me drink his morning piss, too. Ryan nicknamed me `Woodchopper.' The other kids thought it was because I was from Montana, but I knew he used the name because I serviced his morning wood."

Ben paused for a moment. "God, I loved those mornings," he mused. "I would wake up excited as could be over the prospect of getting Ryan's cock in my holes. I was the only kid in boarding school that never wanted to sleep in. Weekends were the best, because Ryan and I were on the sports teams together and he would make me suck him off after games, my nose stuffed in his sweaty pubes. A couple of times Ryan snuck me into his dorm room for the whole night so he could fuck me three or four times, but he made me sleep on the floor because he only had a twin bed.

"After two years of serving Ryan's cock virtually every morning, Ryan graduated and I was disappointed that he wouldn't be around to fuck me during my last two years of boarding school. But on the day of his graduation, Ryan had a surprise. When I entered his room early in the morning as usual, Ryan was still in bed, but he was awake and Ryan's little brother Dillon, who was in town for Ryan's graduation, was sitting in Ryan's desk chair with a smirk on his face. Surprised and embarrassed, I turned to leave, but Ryan said, Where the fuck do you think you're going? Get your clothes off and get your mouth on my morning wood, and do it NOW!' I wondered if Ryan really expected me to put on a show for his little brother, but Ryan answered that question when he said, Watch closely, bro. This is the way it works.' Then he glared at me and said, `I said, NOW, fuck brain!'

"I followed Ryan's orders, stripping and getting on his cock. Other than having an audience, it was like most other mornings, although Ryan fucked me extra hard to put on a show for his little brother. Once Ryan had nutted in my ass, he said to Dillon, `Your turn. Get your clothes off and get in my bed just like you're waking up next fall. Woodchopper, you're gonna give my little bro exactly the same service you gave me. You're his property now.'

"By that time," Ben said, "I was 6'2," and even though I was a sophomore, I played tight end and wide receiver on the varsity football team." If Ben detected the irony of playing tight end and wide receiver on the football team and being a receiver of a daily load of Ryan's cum in his tight end, he didn't let on. "Dillon was barely 5'6" and two years younger than me," Ben continued. "The kid was skinnier than a rail and I outweighed him by 80 pounds of muscle. He hadn't even started ninth grade yet. Dillion stripped and got in bed, and roughly shoved my head into his crotch and said, `Suck me, cock whore.' Ryan and his kid brother may have doubted what I would do, but after a moment of indecision, I never wavered. I was on Dillon's cock in moments, happy I was getting to suck two cocks and getting two loads in my pussy.

"Dillon got hard in no time. His body hadn't developed yet, but his junk sure had. Even before he started ninth grade, Ryan's little brother had a bigger cock than Ryan did – by quite a ways – and the kid's balls were giant. I was used to sucking cock, but I gagged and had trouble getting him down my throat. I remember being glad Ryan had opened my hole up before his little brother had his way with my ass.

"The kid rolled me on my stomach and put on a show for Ryan, fucking me as hard as he could, calling me every derogatory name he could think of. I loved servicing Ryan, getting off on the way he ordered me around and treated me like a cum dump. But I loved getting used by Dillon even more. When he came that first time, his cock felt like a fire hydrant. Those big balls must have been carrying a gallon of teen spunk. I used to walk around all day at school with tiny bits of Ryan's morning load seeping from my ass, but that day, with both Ryan's load and his little brother's dump, my ass was dripping constantly. I had to change underwear twice.

"After Dillon came in my ass, Ryan smirked at me and said, `Woodchopper, meet your new owner. My bro owns you now. I got him my old room in the dorm and I'm giving him my old cocksucking whore. You're gonna service him the same way you serviced me. First thing in the morning, every morning. But you're used to it, aren't you? It would be a shame to let your mouth and ass go to waste. We're going to keep you in the family.'"

"I followed Dillon's orders religiously for the next two years. He barely had pubes but he knew I was a whore for his big dick and he delighted in humiliating me. The kid was a sadistic little fuck, too, dreaming up all sorts of nasty things to make me do. He made me get a tattoo on my ass check that says `Dillon's Ho.' I had to wear a butt plug all night before he fucked me in the morning. I loved it all, the liked butt plug in particular because it kept my pussy stretched so Dillon's big cock didn't hurt when he rammed it in me.

"A few months into Dillon's freshman year, he bragged to his friends about how he owned me. When they expressed skepticism, he arranged a demonstration, making me suck him and then fucking my ass in front of three of his friends. He mostly did it for status, to establish himself as a stud and to show off his big cock. I was happy to have every freshman in the school know that I was a cum slut."

As Ben told the story, it occurred to me that this might have been the first time he had relived his boarding school days and talked about what went down. He was eager to get it out, happy to have someone listen who might understand.

"Mr. Connors, the teacher that fucked me in the inner tube that night in the woods was the guy I really wanted, however," Ben continued. "I would have loved it if he had kept me after class, disciplined me mercilessly and then fucked my ass. However, despite what he had done that night in the woods, Connors was careful never to abuse his authority over the boarders. I did all sorts of things to try to set up a situation where he would relent, but he never took the bait.

"In desperation, I resorted to honesty and a blatant appeal. I went to Connors's office late one night and told him I knew what he had done in the woods and had loved it, but I would never tell anyone about it. I came right out and said I really, really wanted to have sex with him and his friends again. I basically begged him to fuck me. Connors probably thought it was a sting and he was being set up. He put me off, said no, and went out of his way to ignore me. He finally relented during a holiday weekend, but only when, rather than going into town with my friends, I showed up at his house unannounced and wearing the most provocative outfit I had.

"After that weekend, I spent every Saturday night with Connors. He usually hosted his friends, and they played cards or watched sports or movies. I insisted on being naked the entire time and fetching drinks and food for the men. One-by-one the men would take me into the bedroom and fuck my holes. For my graduation, they gave me what I really wanted – two back-to-back double fucks."

Ben's story of his wild boarding school days was a little shocking. Not that I hadn't fucked plenty during high school, but my experiences with sex growing up were the exact opposite of Ben's. The difference was more than just me being a top and Ben being a bottom. I always felt I could walk away from my sexual shenanigans whenever I wanted, not that I had ever wanted to. I wasn't certain about Ben. He seemed obsessed in an uncontrolled way.

Ben continued his story, turning to his college years. College was an excuse for Ben to really let loose. As a freshman, Ben whored continually, but college dick wasn't what he craved and he began giving his ass to older men, who were only too happy to fuck a built college freshman. Halfway through the year he met a policeman and fell in love. At least Ben was in love; reading between the lines, it didn't sound like the policeman was. When the man got killed in an accident early the next year, Ben went off the deep end, slutting around in spectacular fashion until the first of his bouts with anal fissures.

The story of Ben's anal tears sounded like he followed a similar path as the kid from MIT. As Ben went into details, I kept thinking that Ben was in love with his father. He searched for older, daddy types. Unfortunately, after his boarding school teacher and the policeman, Ben's taste in men had turned toward bad actors. He went through a procession of men who were drunks, drug addicts or abusive – or all three.

Judging from Ben's current conduct – sucking off any cowboy at Marco's that wanted to get his rocks off – I wasn't too sure about the optimism Jake had expressed the night at his house that Ben would be alright. "How much does your dad know?" I asked.

Ben looked at me and said, "God, don't tell him! He knows I'm gay. He knows about the arrests, obviously. He doesn't know about my boarding school teacher or the stints in the emergency room getting my ass sewn up. He never met any of the guys I dated in college. He probably thinks they were college kids. And he doesn't know I'm the resident cocksucker of Big Sky Country."

How long would it take for Jake to hear about Ben's exploits at Marco's? It wasn't like rural Montana was New York City, where everybody is a stranger. In Montana, at least around Westcliffe, everybody knew one another. Jake was practically a God in the area, so maybe people were reluctant to say anything to him, but that would last only until the next cowboy got drunk.

Ben continued to talk and the waitress brought me another beer, even though I hadn't ordered it. I wasn't certain why – beyond loneliness perhaps – Ben was spilling his guts to me when I was virtually a complete stranger. Maybe it was because Ben felt like an outsider and I looked like an outsider. Ben knew I understood things he had experienced in college because I had been at an east coast college, too, just last year. Likely all it took to make Ben feel comfortable with me was that I knew what an anal fissure was and I didn't react with horror to his description of getting his ass `sewn up' – as he put it. I had become Ben's first confidant in a long time, maybe forever. A month ago he might not have been ready to talk. But he was now.

Ben described how Jake was urging him to move to Chicago or Seattle or Denver to get a fresh start. Ben loved Denver, but he laughed about his dad's suggestion of the city. Unknown to his father, in college Ben spent six months flying to Denver every second or third weekend, at the behest of one of his former lovers. The visits were to film gay porn for a producer in Denver specializing in college men.

Unlike most of the young men fucking for the cameras at the Denver studio, Ben actually was in college. And unlike most of the actors, who were in it for the money, Ben did it because Ben's lover got off on having a porn star boyfriend. The man loved seeing other men pound Ben's ass almost more than he liked doing it himself. During his porn days, Ben had dyed his hair blond and had shaved his body, so the current Ben's resemblance to the porn star `Danny' wasn't immediately obvious. But internet porn was a ticking time bomb. Eventually someone would make the connection and Jake would know everything.

Several of the porn stars had settled in Denver, and Ben knew that if he moved to Denver, it would only be a matter of time before he ran into one of his former fuck partners who would be only too happy to put Ben's legs in the air again. And Ben admitted it likely wouldn't be long before he succumbed to the lure of filming porn and escorting on the side.

I began to reconsider my suspicion that Ben was in love with his father. Ben wanted an authority figure, but maybe not Jake. Ben wouldn't follow Jake's every command, but he would follow other men. Ben had done exactly that since he came out, and had done it repeatedly. Plain and simple, Ben was a born sub, looking for a dom. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it became.

Being Ben's dom wasn't a job for me. I didn't have the patience I would need to train Ben as a sub. Hell, I didn't have the patience to train any sub, and Ben would need work. I was younger than most doms, and while that wouldn't be a problem, it wasn't ideal. More telling was simply where we were. Living at Westcliffe, with its small town atmosphere and my office being down the hallway from Jake's, made any thought of my involvement a nonstarter. Plain and simple, I didn't want the assignment.

But I had a perfect solution. The more I thought about it, it was superb. I set my plan in motion.

"Look," I said, turning suddenly from the patient listener to the authority figure Ben wanted. "I've heard what you want, and I'm going to tell you exactly what to do. Listen carefully. Your dad is right about one thing. You need a fresh start and I'll give it you. To start, you'll move to Chicago. Get the hell out of here, now. Pack tonight and leave tomorrow morning. Tell your dad you're taking his advice. Don't tell him you and I spoke. Driving from here to Chicago is 1,600 miles. I want you there in three days. No sucking cock or fucking on the road. You'll be on best behavior. When you reach Chicago, you'll text me for further instructions. In fact, you'll text me every morning and every night on the road and in Chicago until I tell you not to. Give me your phone."

Ben's eyes were wide, but he had a look of curiosity and excitement. I sent a text from his phone to mine to start a chain. This better work, I thought. But I was confident. "Any questions?" I asked.

Any sane person would have had reams of questions. Admittedly, Ben was drunk and drugged. He looked into my eyes and said, "What will I do in Chicago?"

I said, "You'll do exactly what I tell you to do. Until I give you instructions, don't worry about what you'll do. The only thing in your plans now is driving to Chicago. Nothing more until I say. Understand?" Ben frowned.

I paused a long minute and asked, "Do you trust me, Ben?" What I had planned for Ben wasn't going to work if he didn't blindly trust me. And, more importantly, didn't blindly trust the man to whom I would deliver Ben.

"Yes..." Ben said slowly, "I do." He sounded surprised to hear himself say it, but once he said it, I could see he was embracing it. Maybe his father's endorsement of my brains the first night we met tipped the scales. Regardless, my plan was unfolding.

"Good," I said. "It's important that you trust me, and if you do, I will give you a pathway out of where you're at. I'll get you to a much happier place."

"I trust you," Ben said, nodding. Then he laughed, the first time I had seen him give me more than a wry smile all night long. When his face lit up, he looked 10 years younger than the haggard man that had stepped out of the rest room. "What the fuck do I have to lose?" he said. Ben didn't know it, but he would lose a lot, although he would gain a lot, too.

I wanted to make sure Ben was okay to drive home, so I walked him to the door. Fortunately, he was much better than when he stumbled from the rest room. I watched his silver Porsche 911 disappear into the Montana night, wondering what had come over me. A hot guy had offered me a blow job or a fuck and I had turned him down. And I was horny! I had just let the hottest ass I had seen for weeks drive away without my cock having seeded it. It would have been easier to breed Ben than falling off a rock. What had come over me? I told myself I only let Ben escape because he was Jake's son. Was that totally it?

I called JJ in Chicago. Damn, if JJ ever found out that I hadn't fucked Ben, I would never live it down. "JJ, bro, too late to talk?" I asked.

"Nah," I heard JJ's husky voice. "Never for you. Where the hell you been?"

"Montana," I said. JJ would never understand my choosing a place like Montana for academic reasons, so I didn't bother to explain.

"Fuck, can you see Russia from there?" JJ cracked. With JJ, I could never be sure whether he was joking or serious. I ignored the question.

"JJ, I'm sending you a boy," I said. Ben was hardly a boy, but to JJ, anyone under 35 was a boy. "He should be there in three days. He might not show, but I think he will. He's raw, but ready, with a ton of potential."

"Really?" JJ replied. I could tell he was intrigued. "Might be good timing. I'm looking for a new project."

JJ's projects were raw subs needing to be trained. JJ was flat out the best dom I knew. He could dominate a man with the strength of his personality, although being a 6'8" black man with 250 pounds of muscle meant he could dominate men physically whenever he wanted. He delighted in training subs, watching them develop, bringing out the best in them. A sub trained by JJ was top quality. JJ had the care and attention to detail I would never have. He had been at it for 30 years. Hell, JJ had been training subs before Ben and I had even been born.

JJ's response left me relieved that I wasn't sending Ben into a dead end in Chicago. "By the way, JJ, he's white," I added.

"I'm used to it," JJ sighed. I closed the call and returned to Marco's to finish my beer and pay the check.

Lost in thought about Ben and wondering how Chicago would work out for him, I looked up to find a young man giving me a long, lingering stare. He was drinking a beer a couple of tables away. I was surprised the guy was still there, given how long it had been since he sat down, halfway through my long conversation with Ben. The guy gave me a shy smile as I glanced at him. Either he was fascinated by a tall black man with dreadlocks drinking in a Montana cowboy bar, or he was cruising me. The minimal odds of being cruised in a straight roadside bar in Montana made that explanation fanciful. Still...

I eventually got my blow job from Ben and fucked his ass during a trip to Chicago. Ben was living in JJ's old Victorian mansion on the South Side. When I arrived, he was naked, wearing a thick dog collar along with leather wrist and ankle cuffs. His junk was locked in a chastity cage. Ben's blue eyes, which had had a fevered look that night in Marco's, were calm and serene. His body was incredible – that's what a rigid diet and forced workouts can do – but it was completely smooth below his head. On some men smooth is hot, although it isn't a look I necessarily favor for everyone. However, JJ maintained that requiring his subs shave everything each day was important as a matter of discipline and a visual reminder of their status. JJ had even shaved Ben's head at first, but as a reward for good behavior, JJ let Ben's thick brown hair grow back.

Ben had worked his way into being a top construction engineer at a big firm downtown, a result that pleased Jake to no end. JJ's enforced discipline meant Ben got to work early, was focused and intent all day, and stayed late or went the extra mile when necessary. He was consistently polite and cooperative, and got rave reviews from his supervisors. JJ knew how to dress Ben – in custom made suits and shirts that highlighted his muscular body – so that Ben oozed sex without it being tacky. Neither women nor men could look at him without thinking, `damn, what a stud.'

But the reality was far different. Ben didn't socialize after work, instead going directly to JJ's house, stripping off his work clothes, getting on his knees, respectfully asking JJ to lock his collar in place, and spending the rest of the night doing whatever JJ commanded. Ben hadn't had a drop of alcohol since the night at Marco's. From the looks of his body, he hadn't enjoyed much sugar or fat, either.

Ben was every bit the cocksucker his dad was, deep-throating my long, thick, black meat with apparent ease. After he eagerly vacuumed a load from my balls, he got on all fours, his back in the perfect reverse arch and his ass sticking up in the air as an open invitation for me to fuck him. The small tattoo that read `Dillon's Ho' was still visible on his ass cheek. Damn! Watching a sub trained by JJ was a thing of beauty.

Whether the father or the son was the better fuck was a close question. I probably leaned slightly toward Jake because of his furry, masculine chest, his rugged, weathered face, and his presence in a room – he was the man everybody instinctively looked to. But damn, JJ had taught Ben how to use his ass in ways that were amazing, and Ben treated every fuck as if it was preparation for a final exam JJ would administer. Jake had taken my cock warily. Ben took it like he had lived his whole life just for the moments I would be inside him.

As JJ and I sipped drinks after I had seeded Ben's ass with a couple of loads, JJ asked, "I still don't get where you found this boy. Where the fuck's Montana? He's one of the best I've ever trained. They got any more ranch boys in Montana? I'm going to need me another project, `cuz this one is sold. Nice dom on the North Shore wants a new sub and likes Ben. Hell, all of my customers like him." Ben sat placidly on the floor, watching JJ closely for any hint of a command or order, with a peaceful look on his face. Ben had exactly what he had hungered for.

As I left JJ's house that night, Ben thanked me, telling me that he would always be grateful and would remember the night in Marco's as the beginning of his life. His eyes were misty.

A few months after Ben moved to Chicago, Jake pulled me aside in the faculty office building and said, "I want to thank you, Dillinger. For Ben. I found out you convinced him to go to Chicago and helped get him settled. I can't tell you how grateful I am. The kid was headed nowhere and all at once he's the man I always hoped he would become." I bit my lip, picturing Ben as I had seen him the night I fucked him at JJ's. Naked and collared, his body shaved, a chastity cage on his cock, his ass sticking in the air. I doubted that was the man Jake was envisioning.

"I was just at the right spot at the right time," I said.

"Don't be modest," Jake said. "You're a remarkable young man. Not only am I thankful for what you did for Ben, but you're also responsible for the most memorable night of my life. I've never met a man like you, but I'm certainly happy you found your way to Westcliffe."

In truth, I was, too.

TO BE CONTINUED...

I would love to hear whether you liked the story. Coltonaalto@gmail.com

Chapter Fourteen will hopefully be up in another week or so, and picks up in Marco's where Chapter Thirteen leaves off.

© Copyright Colton Aalto 2015