Freeing David

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, real places or real circumstances is purely coincidental.

The story contains both male/male sex and power and surrender (S/M) scenes. If you object to such content or are not of a legal age for your jurisdiction to read them, please exit now.

Many thanks to my proofreaders/editors w1nner and Dirk M for their sharp

eyes and useful suggestions.

The copyright is retained by the author. Do not distribute without written permission.

Freeing David 7

When David's car came down the drive I was ready to play the sheriff scene we had talked about earlier in the day. He parked and I walked up to his car window, ready to order him out of the car, but noticed he was still wearing the clothes he had worn to work, and he looked . well, about ready to explode.

"Can we just cuddle and talk for a while, Michael?" He seemed very upbeat and excited.

"Sure. Want to do it naked under the stars?"

"Yeah! Let me get a blanket." He went inside and took a little longer than I expected, but when he came out he was naked and carrying a large blanket. Between the two of us we got it spread on the grass quickly, and as he stretched out on the soft surface I stripped, then joined him. We met in the middle for a good hug and soft kiss. This wasn't about sex; not yet, anyway.

"So, what's up?"

"I can't believe it, it WAS a fun day at work. When I first got there my mother went into this tirade about my not working last night. 'How could you do that to me? I need some time to rest! I can't believe a son of mine is so selfish. We're giving you the cabin for the summer and you're just lazing around.' All the usual guilt stuff she has used on me. This time I recognized what she was doing, and I didn't start feeling guilty.

"Finally I interrupted her. 'Well, you told me when I agreed to work this summer that I could have two nights a week off.'

"That put her off stride. She isn't used to anyone debating with her. 'Yes, but you should feel some responsibility. A business doesn't just run itself you know.'

"That's a line she's used for ages. She bought the motel and expected my father and me to provide free labor. 'It isn't my motel, mother. None of its income comes to me.' They pay me a little under minimum wage, since I get the cabin for free for the summer. That really lit her fuse. She started telling me how ungrateful I was for all the money I had cost them over the years, all the trouble I'd been as a kid, that sort of thing.

"Finally I interrupted, 'Besides, you split the time with Father, didn't you?' She opened her mouth and nothing came out. She could hardly tell me that she had sent him to spy on me or that he got led on a wild goose chase.

"Finally she said, 'No, he had a meeting last night.'

" 'A meeting?' I said. 'He hasn't been to a nighttime meeting in fifteen years. What are you not telling me, Mother?' It's true, too. He hates nighttime meetings for some reason. He just refuses to go. She blushed. I've never seen her blush before, but she blushed really red. At that point she just turned and stomped out of the room and slammed the door, and I still didn't feel guilty. Not only that, I started to see how she's been using me for years. Part of the time I get really pissed at that, and part of the time I'm able to just realize it and know I need to change it."

"That's great, David."

"Yeah!!" He hugged me really hard, just out of pure joy. "A lot of the credit goes to you, too."

"How's that?"

"You started calling me 'David.'"

He was on the right track I thought, but I played dumb. "Soooo?"

" 'Paul', she even called me 'Paulie' at one point tonight, was the kid that grew up under her control. He was the one that always gave in to her wheedling and whining; he was the one they taught to fear other people; he was the one they taught homosexuality was bad. 'David' was a little piece of my Uncle David. That part of me never really bought it. The tree even called me David when it told me I was perfectly OK. I just hadn't been able to be David in my own mind. Then when I told you I wanted to be called David, that 's what you called me. And I've been 'David' with you. I did things Paul would be terrified of. I trusted you, and you upheld that trust. You held me when I cried, and told me it was perfectly OK. You let me experiment with giving you control, but let me keep the right to take it back, and I didn't have to. You told 'David' you were proud of him. Even though she was calling me 'Paul' tonight, it was 'David' listening. You've set 'David' free, Michael."

I hugged him just as hard has he'd hugged me earlier. "David's a very neat man, too." I told him.

"And now I know what the end of the dream meant, too."

"You do?"

"Yeah, don't you see? It was 'Paul' who was choking on your cock. 'David' gets it down his throat just fine." He reached down and played with my cock. " 'David' really likes your cock, too." It lengthened a little. "And there's more."

"More cock?"

"No, silly." He pinched the head of my cock and let it go. "About tonight. My father came in about 4:30 - a little late for him. He told me the sheriff had told him that some cattle had gotten loose from a truck and asked if I'd seen any. I knew immediately he'd seen your bull. I told him I hadn't, but that I'd keep a watch out. He couldn't very well tell me he'd been to the lane without admitting he was trying to spy on me, so he let that rest. So I hit him about his meeting. 'I didn't know you ever went to night meetings, Father. What got you out last night?'

"He got out of that one pretty easily. 'Oh, it was a business meeting over in Centerville your mother thought I should go to.'

" 'Did you meet anyone interesting?' I asked, remembering your description of what Rafe would probably do. I've never seen anything like it. He turned bright red, he sort of gasped and looked like he was about to faint. He managed to get out a strangled 'No!!' as he almost ran out of the room. I almost felt sorry for him. I'd love to know what really happened last

night." I felt David looking at me in the darkness.

"Who knows? Your speculations may be a lot more fun than knowing the drab details." Actually, Rafe and I had talked after David left for work. David' s father . well make that 'Paul's' father, had shot a big load in his shorts after a little kissing and crotch fondling with Rafe, and he hadn't resisted doing either one. After he made his mess, though, he got quite embarrassed and upset. He almost pushed Rafe out of the car and took off for home. I was real curious how he explained his shorts to his wife; but again, my speculations might be more fun that the truth. I hoped he'd be able to tell David about it sometime, but I suspected that in his mind the event was already well on its way to total suppression.

"Then there was one final event that was, .. well, interesting. This fellow rode up on his big Harley, parked in front and came in to ask about a room. When he saw me he just kept staring. At first it was flattering, then it got a little embarrassing. Finally I asked, 'Did I put my nose on upside down this morning?' He was embarrassed then.

" 'Oh, sorry, I guess I was staring quite a bit. It's just that you look so much like someone I know; it's pretty amazing.' He looked at my name tag. 'P. D. Perkins. I'll have to ask him if he has any Perkins in his family tree.'

"He was cute, too, so I wanted to make things, so I explained. 'That's for Paul and David. I prefer David.' I looked at his registration card. He was Russ Harper from Clearville, Illinois, so I asked, 'Where's Clearville, Russ?'" Paul would never ever have asked a good-looking guy something like that.

" 'Oh, it's a little town northwest of Chicago. Not very exciting. Well, I need to be on my way early in the morning, but I'll be sure to ask my friend if he knows he has a look alike in Iowa. Take care.' He flashed a great smile and I smiled back. That was something else Paul wouldn't have done. As I said, it was a good evening!" He took a deep breath and sort of puffed it out.

"I figured out a couple of things about myself during the evening, too."

"Like?"

"I think 'David' has to leave here soon. After you leave I need to get away from them. 'David' needs room to grow without being stunted by their . poison. That is a harsh way to put it, but it's how I feel."

"It's pretty accurate, actually. Where will you go?"

"I want to see if I can find my Uncle David. If I can and if he'll have me around, I think 'David' can do much better with him than he can here. I managed to save some money from the restaurant job; I didn't send any extra home the way my mother wanted me to, so I can get by for the rest of the summer before school starts."

"Where will you look?"

"I think I'll start in Chicago. I think that was where he was living when he came through that summer. Actually, I'll find a computer terminal and use the Internet to see where all the 'David A. Perkins' are. I'm sure now he was gay and into some rough stuff, so unless he's changed he's probably close to a big city some place. Of course, .." He held me tightly, burying his head in my shoulder.

"You're afraid he may have died?" A nod.

"A lot of men have, David, but I have a feeling he's doing fine."

"How long will you stay?"

"I need to move on tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll miss you. I'll miss you a lot. You set David free. I'll never be the same, thank God."

"I'm not going to vanish. I'll stay in touch and be around occasionally. You 're too neat a man to lose touch with."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Well, . you aren't .... I just wasn't sure, errrr, . I wasn't sure what you 'd want."

"I want to stay in touch, David, and I want to see how you grow. I want to be around if there are rough spots you need help with."

"Thanks." He snuggled into me tighter, his head sort of against my chest. "That makes trying to find Uncle David and all that stuff seem a lot less scary."

"Thanks for sharing the story of your evening, David."

"I had to. I was going to bust with all the news if I didn't." We lay there contentedly for a few minutes, then he pushed back from me. "I think I'm going to back the car up the lane, put on some clothes and become a teenaged, punk-nerd and drive back down here. If I find a naked sheriff hanging around I may die laughing." He pinched one of my nipples hard and jumped up and ran to his car. Surprised by the change of mood, I grinned to myself. I would be the nasty sheriff by the time he got here.

..

It took David longer than I expected, but eventually his car came back down the lane and halted a little further back from the house and at a different angle than usual, the headlights lighting a patch of grass. I walked up to the open driver's window. "I thought I might find you here, punk."

"What'cha want, asshole?" He didn't even look at me. He was wearing a shirt that only a mother that didn't want her son to be an adult would have bought him. It might have looked OK on a fourteen-year old.

"That's no way to talk to an officer of the law, shithead. Let me see your driver's license."

"I don' have it with me. It's at home."

"Bet you don't even have one, punk. You don't look old enough, to me. Smells like you've been drinking, too."

"Have not!!"

"Get out of the car, punk. Slowly." He just sat in the car, like he didn't hear me. I grabbed the door handle and jerked it open. "I said, GET OUT OF THE CAR, PUNK." I emphasized each word. He leaned over a little and spit on the ground, barely missing my boot.

"Why? I ain't done nothin." He was playing a sullen teenager very well. I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the car. He hit his butt on the ground before he got his feet out.

"Oww!! That hurt, fucker," he yelled. I grabbed him by the hair and pulled up.

"Stand up and put your hands against the car, punk." It was awkward, because I kept pulling, but he finally managed to stand up. I used his hair to pull him out of the way and slammed the door. "Hands on the car. Now!!" He stepped forward so he was within an arms' length of the car and put his hands on the roof, standing straight up. He was doing all he could to play the dumb teenager and antagonize an officer. I moved beside him, hanging on to his hair and kicked him none-to-gently in the shin. "Feet back, legs spread, arms apart, you stupid shit. Lean on the car."

"Owww!! You bastard, I ain't done nothin!!" He did take the position I wanted, though. I let go of his hair and started a very methodical search. His pants were baggier than I would have expected his uptight mother to buy, but again they were appropriate for a much younger kid. My hands slid up his arms, down his chest and stomach and down to check his crotch carefully. My crotch was leaning on his butt at this point, and I moved it so he could feel my hard cock. I wasn't alone; his cock was straining in the confines of his briefs. "What'cha checkin' for, pervert?"

"Some punks tape drugs to their balls. They think we won't find them. Well, we ain't afraid of a guy's balls. We check'em." I squeezed hard enough to make him grunt.

"Fuckin' pervert!!" He grumbled.

I moved my hands back up and slid them down his sides and the outsides of his legs, up the insides of his legs, pushing the baggy pants up as I moved my hands clear up beside his balls. Only then did I detect something taped to the inside of his leg; something on each side, in fact. "I thought you said you hadn't done anything, punk. It's pretty stupid taping your drugs there."

"It ain't drugs." It was an amazingly good teenager whine. I finished the search, checking out the fronts of his legs, the back of his legs and getting a good feel of his butt. I was satisfied he didn't have a weapon - not a lethal weapon anyway.

"Move over in the headlights and strip, punk. I want to see what all you got taped to your body. And don't try any fast stuff - you've got your old man's car, and I don't think he'd like me impounding it."

"In your dreams, pervert. I ain't strippin' for any fat-assed ball grabber. Call my dad. I'm not putting up with this bullshit." He'd started to stand up, so I pushed him back against the car, hard.

"You should cooperate and make things easy for yourself, punk, but I see I gotta teach ya a lesson. Spread your arms again." He was startled but did as I asked. I grabbed the back of the neck of his shirt and pulled down hard. The entire back panel of the shirt ripped out, pulling the front up tight against his throat.

"Hey, fucker, my mom got me this shirt."

"Tough shit, punk." I again stood and rubbed my crotch against his butt, reached around and grabbed the collar in front and jerked down hard enough to tear the front loose, leaving tattered connections to the sleeves. "Now, leave your feet where they are and lean your head on the car and put your hands behind your back."

"I ain't gotta do that, man." It was a defiant whine. I pulled my belt out of its loops, doubled it and hit him hard across his butt. "Oww!!" but he didn't move.

"I'll stop when you take the position, you stupid punk." He let me hit him about a dozen times before he gave in.

"OK, OK, I'll do it. My dad'll get you for this. I'll show him the bruises. This is police brutality." He slowly leaned into the car and crossed his wrists behind his back to be tied. I pulled out my handcuffs and snapped one on his right wrist, then positioned his arms so I could do the left. I made sure they were tight enough to annoy him but not bad enough to cause damage.

"Now, you little shit, we're going to get you in the headlights." I grabbed his hair and pulled. "Stand up." I pulled back hard enough so he could stand upright. "Now move." I pulled in the direction I wanted him to go, but he surprised me by turning toward me and trying to knee me in the groin. He meant it when he told me he was going to play rough, too. He missed my balls because I managed to twist out of the way, but barely. My leg would have a bruise where his knee hit me. In the scuffle I'd let go of his hair, so he turned and started to run. That's pretty awkward when you don't have free use of your arms. I quickly caught him by the arm and spun him toward me and grabbed his crotch hard. His balls were held out by the ball stretcher so they were easy to grab. "You try that again, you little shit, and I'll squeeze all the sperm out of these guys." I squeezed hard enough so he gasped. "Got it?"

"Yeah." It was a gasp. I squeezed harder.

"I think I deserve a little more respect, punk. What did you say?"

"Yeah." He glared at me." I squeezed again. "Aaaaaghhh. Yes, Sir." It was a whisper. I squeezed harder. This guy was a 'tough little shit,' just like he told himself this morning.

"I didn't quite hear you, punk."

"Yes, Sir." he yelled. I let go of his balls but kept my hand on his arm and pointed at the brightly lit grass in front of his car.

"Over there, punk." He walked quietly to the grass, mumbling sort of under his breath about his balls hurting. When we got to the middle of the lighted area I stopped him and pulled a long switchblade out of my pocket. I let it snap open in front of his face. He looked from it to me, a little fear showing in his eyes. Slowly, I scraped the very sharp blade down a little of his chest, taking off the hairs. His eyes got very wide while he watched. "I want you to stand very still, punk, so I don't slip and cut you with this." He nodded. "I didn't hear you, punk!" I stopped moving the knife and pressed it harder against his skin.

"Yes, Sir. I'll stand still, Sir."

"Gooood." I used the knife to slice off the rest of his shirt. I wanted him to see how sharp it really was. Next I went behind him, stuck one finger in the waist of his pants and pulled back enough to slide the knife down the back seam, letting the back of it rub along his spine down toward his tail bone. He stiffened but held still. With a little pressure I split his pants enough so they fell down his legs. They lodged just above his knees, so I went to the front and slit down from the waist band along the zipper to give them enough freedom to fall to his ankles. Only about an inch of cloth was holding them together. I could easily tear that later if I needed to. The pouches he'd taped to his inner thighs were clearly visible, as was the bulge where his cock was straining against his briefs. A wet spot was showing where the tip was pressing against the white fabric.

Using the back of the knife to rub over all three pouches, I asked, "What are you keeping in these things, punk?" He took a very shaky breath.

"Some things I don't want my mother to see, Sir." Clever answer. Apparently he wasn't going to insult me as long as I had the knife out. He seemed more than a little worried about it, but he hadn't used the safe word yet, so his fear wasn't overwhelming.

"Let's check them out." I slipped my finger in the front of the waistband of his shorts and again slid the knife in, this time the back against his belly but the tip heading toward the top of his restrained cock. He watched, not even breathing. He gasped slightly as the tip touched him. I looked up, and he was staring at me with an odd mixture of fear and trust. I pulled the knife forward, and his shorts split from the top down. I stopped before his cock could spring free, folded the knife and put it back in my pocket. I grasped the two sides of the split waistband and pulled outward, ripping the fabric enough so his shorts could fall to his knees. His cock sprang out from his body. Even the close encounter with the knife hadn't deflated it, and with its freedom it quickly inflated to its full size. I grabbed his balls in one hand and cock in the other. "No wonder you didn't want your mother to see these. It's still a boycock hanging around with boyballs."

"You seem to like having your hands on'm, old man. They probably feel bigger 'n yours."

"What'cha got this collar on your ball sack for, Boy? Trying to make them stick out further so the bulge in your pants looks man sized?" I squeezed his balls again as I asked the question. He reverted to being more polite.

"No, Sir. My balls don't hang very low. I'm trying to stretch the sack."

"Well, if you had manballs, they'd hang lower, Boy." I played with his cock a little, and precum appeared in his pee slit. "I think you like this, punk. I think you like a man handling your boycock. You one of them fairies?"

"Am not!!! I'm hard most of the time anyways, even watching the news on TV. It's that way with young guys."

"Yeah, right, punk. Let's see what's in these other pouches." He pulled his legs together and tried to turn away.

"No, Sir!! You don't have to do that, Sir. It's nothin' important."

"Then you shouldn't mind me see'n it, punk." I grabbed the gauze and pulled on one of them. He yelped when the tape pulled off. Two condoms fell out. "What were you going to use these for, punk?"

"I had a date, Sir." He even blushed a little.

"Yeah, with some hot dude, I'll bet."

"Was not!!!" he yelled. I grabbed the other pouch and pulled it off. Two tiny plastic containers of lube fell out.

"Well, you don't need this stuff if you're doing it with a girl, punk. If you didn't have a date with a hot dude, you must have been hoping to meet up with some guy who was going to bust your virgin asshole."

"WAS NOT!!!"

"Well, since you supplied everything I need, I think I'll just make your wish come true." I stood in front of him and slowly stripped. David clearly enjoyed my show. His cock got even harder, and occasional drops of precum trailed toward the ground. I grasped his cock again. "I like your enthusiasm, punk. Now, bend over like you're going to grab your ankles. I want to see your cherry asshole." I walked behind him, but he didn't bend over.

"You're nothin but an old fag, are you? You have to tie up young guys so they hold still while you get your jollies. You're a real mess, old man." I retrieved my belt and stood behind him.

"Let me remind you what I do when you don't follow orders, punk." I hit his butt quite firmly with a bunch of blows.

"OK, OK, I'll do it! I'll do it!!" When I stopped his butt had a bunch of red stripes, and some would probably leave him the bruises he had fantasized about.

"Down on your knees, you stupid punk, and put your face in the grass." It was awkward, but he complied. His ass was in the air, and I could see his pink pucker. Having his legs restrained by his pants was getting in the way, so I finished ripping them and his shorts apart. "Move your knees apart more." He held still. "Do I need to get my belt again, punk?"

"No, Sir!" He moved his knees a little further apart. I opened a foil pack and rolled the condom down my cock. It had been ready for this for some time, and added its own lubricant to the inside of the latex. I tore off the end of the lube tube, worked a little of it around and in his hole, not being very gentle this time, then spread the rest on my cock. I placed its head against his pucker and pushed a little. Since we'd done this last night, he started to relax pretty quickly. When the head was about three quarters of the way in, I thrust hard and sank in to the base.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!! You fucker!! That hurts!! Take it out, take it out!!" He tried to get away from me by stretching out flat on the ground, sliding his head along the grass, but I followed him and let my full weight rest on him for a minute. He was groaning and moaning, and I could see a tear running from his eye across his nose, but no safe word, so I pulled most of the way out and thrust all the way in again. "Aaaaaaaa!!" The next time all I got was a groan, then silence as I continued. I gradually changed my angle so I was rubbing his prostate on each thrust, and he started moaning, the volume building as I continued. Then he started thrusting his ass back at me as I thrust in. Finally he went over the edge. "AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Ooooooooghhhhhhh!! Unnnhhhhh!!"

I pulled out in one quick move, leaving him empty. "Oooooohhh unnnnngh!!! Put it back!!" I got up, jerked the condom off, went to his head, grabbed his hair and pulled up.

"On your knees, punk!!" He was still out of it from cumming and from the empty feeling in his ass, but he struggled to comply. When he was in position I used his chin to tilt his head up to look at me. "Did I tell you you could cum, punk?" I used my most threatening tone. I noticed his cock was still hard.

"I couldn't help it. You made me do it."

"I haven't cum yet, punk. I don't like that!"

"So what. Old men like you probably only cum once a month anyway."

"Your mouth and throat are going to give me the service I need now, punk, and you probably noticed I like my cock all the way in. Your nose is going to be in my pubes and my man cock is going to be down your throat, you little shit. Open up." I saw raw fear in his eyes for a few seconds, then it slowly turned to clear determination.

"I'll bite it off, you faggot. You'll be safer using my other end."

I went to my pants and pulled out the knife and snapped it open as I came back to where he was kneeling. He was staring at the blade in fascination if not fear. I put it flat against his chest just above his nipple. He shrunk back, but I grabbed his hair so he couldn't go far. "Hair isn't the only thing this will remove, cocksucker, and you are going to be a nice cocksucker for me, aren't you?" I slid the blade a smidgen closer to his tit.

"Yes, Sir. I'll suck your cock, Sir!" He almost yelled it, then opened his mouth for my cock. His hard cock was bobbing between his legs.

"This is for that traffic light you drove through, too, punk." I wanted to make sure he wasn't so rattled he had forgotten he could stop me if he didn' t want to take on a rough face fucking session with his hands cuffed behind his back.

"That was a green light and you know it, you faggot. You just want to fuck my mouth. So fuck it!" The corners of his mouth twitched slightly before he opened his mouth again. I pressed the back of the blade on his chest to close the knife again and tossed it over on top of my pants.

"Don't think I don't know where that is, punk. I'll get it and use it if I need to." I knelt in front of him and batted his hard cock back and forth then reached under and massaged his balls roughly enough to make him grunt. "Looks like you are doin' pretty well, punk. I think you like this."

"You gonna fuck my face, or are you waiting till your month is up, old man?"

I stood in front of him. "Open up, punk. I'm going to bury this pole in your throat."

"Pole? I've seen gherkins bigger than that." He was my smartass punk again, but he opened his mouth. I pointed my cock at his mouth, held his head still and pushed in so the head hit the back of his throat on the first thrust. He gagged slightly. I pulled out slowly to give him some recovery time, then a little sooner than he would have liked I thrust and hit the back again. And again.

"You'd better open up and relax, punk, 'cause I'm gonna bury your nose in my pubes soon, whether you're ready or not."

"Mmm."

"I want you to cum again when I bury my cock and squirt my jizz into your stomach. Think you can do that?"

"Mmmmmm." I had no idea whether that meant 'yes' or 'no', but it wasn't an unhappy noise. On the next thrust his throat was more open, and I pushed into it a little before backing out and doing a couple of short strokes. That seemed to work for him, so I set up a rhythm like that for a minute or so.

"You're good, cocksucker. Most guys can't take my cock like that. You must have had practice."

"Mmmm."

"Get ready, punk, you're going to take it all." On that thrust, I pushed all the way in. His nose was in my pubes. I held it for a few seconds and backed out so he could breathe. He had a little trouble, but didn't gag. I followed the same pattern - all the way in, back out and a couple of short strokes, then all the way in again. He was breathing rapidly through his nose whenever he had a chance. When I pulled back I could see his cock was still hard and precum oozing out the tip, almost like I was massaging his prostate. "You like my mancock in your throat, don'cha, punk. You're cock is dripping."

"Mmmm."

I reached down with one hand and started pinching and rolling his tit while I held his head with the other. "Maybe I should call one of my deputies so we can have someone fucking your ass while I do this. He's big, he'd stretch your hole even more than I did. He likes to slap asses when he fucks, too, and he gets pretty rough with the guy's balls, pulling on'm and slapin'm around."

"Mmmmmm!" I could tell he was getting really hot.

"He'd like that little leather collar, it'd let him really stretch your bag. When he gets close to cumming he usually starts jacking the punk, too. Pretty rough, though. Some guys can't take it and get all soft. If they do that he starts fucking them really hard. Really bounces them around, he does."

"Mmmmmmmmmm!" It was amazing how much he managed to hum while his throat was empty.

"You 'bout ready, punk? I am. In a minute my mancock is gonna swell up and lodge in your throat and I'm gonna shoot my load right into your belly. You ready, punk?"

"Mmmm! Mmmmm!" He even managed a slight nod. "Mmmmmm! MMMM." I choked the rest off as I thrust one last time into his throat and held his nose against my belly. I yelled and nearly fell over as my knees went weak. I could tell from the way he was jerking around he was cumming, too.

I really wanted to just collapse at that point, but I needed to make sure this was challenging to my boy in a good way. I kept him pressed against me with his throat blocked for many seconds - twenty or thirty, I guessed - and he still wasn't trying to pull back. I was starting to wonder how long he could hold his breath when I felt him make a slight attempt to back off. I held him another ten seconds or so then pulled out all at once. He blew out a breath and gasped a big one back in. I held his head to balance him while he panted. When his breathing slowed down, I tilted his face up toward mine.

"Can you stay there for a couple of moments, Boy?" He was bleary eyed from the experience, but he nodded. I let go of him, got the blanket and spread it on the grass and went and turned his headlights out. By the time I got back to him he'd walked to the blanket on his knees and collapsed onto it. "Want the handcuffs off?"

"Hold me." Almost a little boy voice.

I lay down beside him, pulled him tightly to my chest and rolled onto my back so he was lying on top of me. He laid his head on my chest and just went totally limp, still panting a little. It felt like he was giving me a body hug, just without arms. His cock was against my leg, finally mostly soft. "Mmmmmmmmmmm!!" After a little more time he sort of wiggled against me. "That was fantastic! I may never find another man I trust enough to do that again. Thank you, Michael."

"You're a pretty convincing sullen, punk teenager, David. You sure that isn' t the real you?"

He chuckled. "When I actually was a teenager I pulled the sullen stuff on my parents a lot." After a moment's thought he snorted. " 'David' thinks they deserved it, too."

"From what you've told me, they did." He relaxed on top of me a little longer then lifted his head and looked at me.

"Hey, you old faggot, you've had your jollies, how about taking these fucking handcuffs off." It was a teenager whine. I slapped his ass hard enough to sting. He yelped.

"Not until I get some respect, punk."

"Sniffle, sniffle. Would you take the handcuffs off, please, Sir. I'd really appreciate it, Sir. Sniffle." Even with very little light I could tell he was grinning. I held onto him and gently rolled to the side to get him off me, then went to find the keys. I dug through the sheriff's clothes, and dug and dug and dug.

"I was sure I had keys earlier." I muttered, just barely loud enough for him to hear. He couldn't see my smile. I dug some more. "Ahhhh." I heard a sigh of relief from David. He turned on his stomach for me and I started trying keys. "Nope, not that one. Nope, not that one. Nope, not that one." I kept muttering. "I wonder if the right one is on here." Finally one slipped in the lock, but it didn't work. Then another and another. Finally one turned and released the cuff's grip. He sighed, but held his other arm still for me until it was free, too.

"That was mean, Michael." I could tell he had a smile.

"What?"

"I was starting to get worried, then I realized you had never been sloppy in anything we'd done, so it had to be an act." He rolled over on his back and pulled me down on top of him and hugged me hard.

"If you had shown a little more respect, maybe I could have found the right key sooner, punk." It was his turn to slap my butt.

"OK, old man, Sir, shall we take showers?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Comments are greatly appreciated. They are part of what keeps all the writers here writing. If you like it, tell me. If you don't and can provide some constructive comments about why, I want to hear that, too. The story is mostly written, so suggestions for story lines are not likely to show up in this piece, though they might be included in a later one.

Comments can be sent to. jwray000@ameritech.net