Last Known Address Chapter 1

LAST KNOWN ADDRESS

A Seedy Criminal, S&M Love Story

by Stephen Shore

1. Apt #5C

He was drenched. Dripping. The rain let up two blocks from the address he held in his hand, but too late. He was already soaked. Shoes squished climbing the stoop.

Manetti/Prior, hand-written in faded blue ink on yellowed masking tape, ink running in splotches, evidence of at least a year exposed to weather—rain, snow, cold; now heat and steamy humidity, even now near midnight—but those names he could make out. The second, his and his brother's last name. There was a stack of buttons each with tape next to it, each tape with a name or names next to hard, rusty buttons. Manetti is who he wrote to the second time, the time he asked if he could come out and stay with him, with them. The first time he wrote to his brother directly, but Manetti, Mike Manetti, answered for his brother. Manetti wrote he didn't know where his brother was. He thought he might have gone back to his mother’s house in Long Beach. Back to California.

Chris pushed the button. He didn't hear a ring. There were only quiet sounds of a summer weeknight after a downpour in New York City. Except for a gypsy cab slowly prowling down the street, the block was abandoned, desolate. People didn't travel down past Avenue C, but what did he know? An open fire hydrant poured into the summer street. The cab's tires slushed through the puddle and drove off into the night. The facade of the streetscape was dreary, few building’s windows lit, most were boarded up. The one next to this building had a big 'Condemned' placard on the door. A movement in a trashcan at the bottom of the stoop. A rat emerged setting the lid ajar. A couple of needles lay on top of black garbage bags inside.

No, he wrote to Manetti, his brother Ben hadn't come back to California. He, Chris, Ben's younger brother, lived in Long Beach with his mother—well, had lived with her, he wasn't exactly getting along with her at the moment—well, her boyfriend actually, which is why he was trying to get a hold of his brother. The letter he sent back to Manetti was rambling. He didn't have a place to live. His mother didn't actually ask him to leave, but every morning, usually at the bathroom, Carl, his mother's new boyfriend, posed, arm on door frame, menacingly in his heavily sweat-stained underwear, pee stain in the crotch. Chris would squeezed passed him. Every day it seemed Carl took up more and more of what was left of the space in the doorway, inched his underwear's yellow bulge closer and closer to him. The day he wrote to Manetti, he felt desperate. He had felt Carl's body heat as he passed under his arm, felt a wisp of his chest hair, a brush on his shoulder from Carl's black, musky pit. He felt Carl's wetness linger on his shoulder, his residual stink. Could he crash with them? He'd pay his way. He couldn't stay at home any longer. Please, he implored in his letter.

Yes, Manetti wrote back. A single word. So Manetti. The door buzzed and Chris leaned into its weight as the bolt unlocked.

After receiving Manetti’s reply, Chris, a month shy of graduating high school, stopped at his house to pick up some clothes. For several weeks he was crashing in the back seat of his best friend's Impala. His after school mechanics job at the Chevron station didn't pay enough for him to afford an apartment, but he had saved enough for a one way ticket to New York. California didn't seem to want him, and living in a car’s back seat wasn't living. Carl was a growing menace that was about to boil over into...he didn't know what. And didn't want to know. The type of menace in Carl’s eyes was unfamiliar. Abuse, yes. His own father had been brutal to him and his brother sometimes. But there was something else he felt in his gut with Carl. Maybe lower than his gut. It stirred some excitement, but he wanted to get away from it before he knew exactly what was at its root.

Inside, the hallway was lit by a flickering fluorescent bulb. Two dogs barked in an apartment down the hall. There should have been two bulbs in the ceiling fixture, but one was flickering its way out. The hallway was dim, full of shadows. A rickety staircase filled half the narrow corridor. He climbed five floors, each landing a bit dingier than the last, heavier in graffiti as he climbed. On the top floor landing it was nearly pitch black, but a door stood open a crack and a shadow draped in a flimsy robe hovered in the door frame.

"You Chris?" a deep voice asked.

Chris set his gym bag down at the landing and said yeah, catching his breath. He felt his heart beating. There was a momentary fight or flight response he was trying to suppress. He hadn't expected that he'd be fearful upon arriving at his brother's apartment, but his brother wasn't here. Just Manetti. Manetti moved a little forward, enough so the apartment's light spilled over his broad shoulders, put a halo in back of his long brown hair. Chris made out teeth, a bit of a smile. Manetti extended his hand and the two shook. “Manetti. Mike Manetti.” His grip was firm but the skin soft, a little clammy. "And your Ben's little brother Chris. C’mere!" Manetti pulled him forward, gave him a warm friendly bear hug. Chris could have stayed there in that embrace forever. There was a familiar smell to him, a little scent of his brother. Maybe it was in the robe but some things you never forget. The strong embrace, he hadn't expected it, but he suddenly felt relief; his worry and a continent-wide anxiety melted with that embrace. Manetti released him and looked him over. "Dog shit day for you to come here, Chief. Thunderstorm didn’t even help cool us off, did it? Looks like you got the worst of it too. Get in here and take your wet sneaks off." Chris saw the robe was open and that Manetti was naked underneath. He caught a quick view of Manetti's dark hairy torso, thick uncut cock, donkey balls dangling between two muscular, wooly legs. He opened the door for Chris while at the same time knotted up his robe.

Chris carried in his gym bag, his few pitiful things: gym clothes, another pair of worn jeans, two old t-shirts (The Ramones, Adidas), underwear (dirty), socks (smelly). Manetti closed and bolted the door. Three separate locks snapped into place. "Sorry, I was thinking about going out. Didn't know if you'd get here tonight. It's pretty late."

"No, yeah. Sorry." Chris was pretty quiet generally. Didn't like to talk. Always self-conscious of saying something dumb, a leftover from an over-critical father. He looked around at the filthy kitchen—sink full of dishes, ashtray full of butts, dark grimy windows—not much different from home, actually. It was kind of reassuring in a perverse kind of way. Manetti was giving him an intense examination in the kitchen light. He felt he needed to say something to distract from his self-consciousness. "Um, I waited a long time for the bus in Newark. And then I walked to the East Village from the bus station. Lot farther than I thought. I wasn't prepared for rain. Didn’t bring an umbrella. Didn’t really think I’d need one. Dunno why. Guess I'm an idiot." His voice trailed off. Usually he never even said that much. That was probably more than he'd said in a week. He was nervous, a little frightened, and yet managed to glanced up several times to get a better look at Manetti. “Sorry, I’m going on like a moron. I’m tired I guess. It’s been a long day.”

"I can see that," Manetti said, ruffling Chris’ wet hair. “Take your things off and hang them on the window bars. Let ‘em dry out." Manetti picked up Chris' gym bag and tossed it next to the archway to the next room. The kitchen window had retractable bars. It was set at an angle to the building, faced a brick wall and shadowy darkness beyond. Chris looked up and gave Manetti a quick smile, then concentrated on kicking off his shoes. He peeled off his socks and shirt, hanging them through the diagonal bars. A light from across the airshaft flashed. The flash blinded him for a second, and maybe it was a residual image imprinted on his retina, but he thought he saw an outline of a figure lurking in the gloom across the airshaft. "Pants," said Manetti, snapping his fingers. It almost felt like an order, but Chris didn't seem to mind. He was, though, a little embarrassed especially because Manetti was so big compared to him. He looked like some of the dockworkers he'd seen in the port of Long Beach. Big and burly, a little intimidating. He felt the man's eyes running over his thin frame. He felt small, miniature even in this tiny kitchen. His pant legs dripped on the linoleum but Manetti didn't seem to care. He sat down at the dinette table in his threadbare underwear, setting his back to the window, putting his folded hands in his lap.

"Is the bag all you brought?" Manetti nodded to his gym bag.

"Yeah, not much, right? I'm not used to packing. Never really gone anywhere. I didn't have no time. Just picked up what was on my floor." Chris noticed the robe had fallen open again revealing one of Manetti's dark, hairy thighs. He quickly looked around the kitchen. "Bathtub?" he said surprised that there was a bathtub in the kitchen. It sat right smack in the middle of the kitchen, dividing the room essentially in two. Didn’t know how he could have missed it when he first walked in. A metal top made it doubled as a counter.

"Yeah, it’s pretty common in these old walk-ups. Hey, you want some soup or something? I have some left over. Just need to heat it up." Chris nodded eagerly. He hadn't realized just how starving he was. He had a cheese sandwich on the plane but that was hours ago. Manetti was nice, he thought. His furtive glances took in his deep set brown eyes and thick black brows over a smooth forehead. Long brown hair and sideburns. It was weird his brother never spoke about his roommate.

"How do you know Ben?" he asked.

Manetti went to the fridge and took out a pot and started warming it up on the stove. "Met at a bath house two years ago. Took pretty quickly to each other. He fucked me, then I flipped him. We did that all night. Didn’t hook up with anyone else. That night anyway. Then I moved in here with him a week later." Manetti gave him a once over to gauge his reaction as he stirred the soup. Then he added, "You don't really look like brothers."

Chris was surprised by how frank Manetti was about being gay, especially that part about the bath house. We wished he could be that bold. "We're step brothers. My dad adopted him when he was sixteen, but that didn’t work out," Chris said. Chris stopped himself from saying more. He listened to the metal spoon stirring in the pot. It was pretty common for people to say that they didn’t look alike. He had thin blond hair, almost white, parted on the side, was skinny and on the short side. He liked wearing his hair shoulder-length, whereas his brother had almost a lion’s mane of thick dirty blond hair he always wore in a ponytail. It was one of the first things he could recall, Ben's ponytail. Ben was tall, athletic, broad chested, ten years his senior. They both had their mother’s wide face and striking blue eyes, but that’s where the similarity ended. Ben ruled any room he was in. People flocked to him. He was magnetic. Chris was a loner, shy. Not the brightest bulb, said he dad endlessly. But he was resourceful, could figure stuff out. He was a pretty decent mechanic without ever having any real training besides a semester in shop class. It was the one 'A' he ever got.  His mother tried to shield him from his father, but she had her own demons and wasn’t always there for him. So he retreated. To his room, or the back of his friend's Impala, and now to a red Formica kitchen table sitting in his wet underwear with his hands folded in his lap.

He looked at the refrigerator across from him. A magnet held up a photo of Manetti and Ben, arms around each other’s shoulders, standing in knee-length bathing suits on a balcony that looked out at the sea. Chris wondered where they were. Manetti looked a little younger, had shorter hair and wore a huge goofy smile. He looked a little stoned. Ben's deep tan set off his blue eyes; they almost glowed. He looked happier than he ever did growing up. It must have been breezy because his long ponytail flew like a kite's tail behind him. Chris stared at it while his soup heated up. He idolized his brother. Worshiped him really. Many times after his father had given him a bad spanking, he’d sneak into Ben’s room, into his bed, and silently fall asleep on his chest refusing to shed a tear. He did cry, though, wept inconsolably really, when Ben said he couldn’t stand their house anymore and shouted he was moving to New York.

Manetti tested the soup with a loud slurp.

His mother demanded to know why New York. He'd met someone in a bar, Ben said, who'd offered him a job. What kind of job do you get offered in a bar? shouted his step father, but Ben was storming out the door raising a middle finger.

“When’s the last time you saw him?" Manetti asked. "He’s changed some, you know,” he said. "He's not that Long Beach surfer dude you used to know."

In the photo Chris saw Ben had added a bunch of tattoos. A big dragon crawled over his right shoulder, its tail re-emerging over his ribs. He saw his brother wasn't that slim teenage surfer he once was either. He was a lot more bulked up, even handsomer if that was possible. "Ben moved out right when he turned eighteen. Hated my dad. Can't blame him. My dad was pretty much of a dickhead. He was okay to me except for my whoopings. He tackled him one time, tried beating the shit out of him, but Ben wailed on him so hard my mom called the police." Chris caught himself as Manetti eyed him. He didn't like to talk about his family’s problems—not to the school counselor, and never to strangers. He rarely did talk about them, didn't even really like to think about them especially.

Manetti filled a soup bowl, grabbed a spoon from a drawer, and set it in front of him. "Yeah, I've seen him loose it. He's pretty awesome. You want a towel? You're still dripping," he said. Chris nodded and dug into the soup. Manetti popped out and then returned with a large terrycloth towel. The soup was full of large chunks of vegetables and warmed his stomach. He took the towel and mopped his head, then draped it over his shoulders. For the first time in as long as he could remember—weeks? months?—he was beginning to relax. He wasn't used to someone being nice to him. Especially someone he didn't know that well. After his dad left, his mom had turned into a basket case. And now, any day with Carl in the house was like walking through a minefield; made his dad seem like Gandhi. He must have been scowling into his soup because when he looked up, Manetti said, "You Prior boys are so serious, aren't you?" Manetti flashed him a warm smile, which he shyly returned, then went back to shoveling spoonfuls of soup.

"In your letter you said you haven't seen my brother in two weeks,” Chris said between bites, keeping his eyes in the soup bowl. “Ain't like him to just disappear. He’d split for a time but would always come back. Know where he’s at?"

Manetti sat across from him, reached in the ashtray and took out a half-burnt joint. He lit it and took a long drag and looked up at the ceiling. He exhaled, thought for a moment before offering it to Chris. Chris put down his soup, pinched the joint, and took a short toke. He exhaled, said thanks, handed it back and went back to his soup.

"Well,” said Manetti thoughtfully. “Chris Prior..." He paused, taking a long hit, taking an even longer time to reflect before exhaling. "...Ben Prior, or Big Ben, as he's called, disappears from time to time. So do I. I didn’t want to get into it in the letter, but truth is, sometimes, a client will want us for an extended period of time." Manetti took another hit. As he exhaled, he leaned in toward Chris. "Sometimes drugs are involved, so you know, we’re sometimes really out of it. Sometimes someone buys one of us for a time. Comes with the territory. We come back to each other. Eventually. But we’ve learned our partnership needs to be very open."

Chris' spoon stopped in mid-air at some point while Manetti was talking. He looked him over. Long dark wavy hair, highlights of red in the harsh kitchen light, long side burns who's points hit his high cheek bones, a wide mouth with lips like seagulls wings, brown eyes that suddenly glinted with mischief. His robe had fallen open again revealing swirling black hair over pale white skin across an expansive chest. Chris' brain twitched. Something was off. He knew stoned, and he wasn't getting stoned. Manetti scratched his chest but his fingers lingered in his mat of chest hair. Chris saw him open his robe a bit more to brush his left nipple on his massive pec; he diddled with a thin metal bar that pierced his large tit.

Chris placed the spoon in the bowl, took up the proffered joint, took a hit as casually as he could. With a clenched throat, hoping it sounded like he was being offhand, he asked, "So you're his boyfriend. You’re both hustlers?" He was confused, but not by the news that his brother turned tricks, but that Manetti’s nipple, so unusually large, looked so very appealing. He'd never seen a pierced nipple up close in real life. So much was flooding his senses at once it was hard for him to keep up with his thoughts. "Boy, this is strong shit," he said, handing back the joint. "Laced?"

"Just a bit." Manetti's grin widened displaying a beautiful row of perfectly white teeth. Why hadn't Chris noticed just how good looking Manetti was before? He had looked at him through a filter as one of his brother’s friends. But whatever the joint was laced with was magnifying Manetti's magnetism. If Manetti was a hustler he must be a very good one, thought Chris. Manetti’s smile, as it grew, highlighted his strong jaw, became the smile of a shark. Chris was easily bait.

"This soup is really good," he said, trying to snap out of his gaze. He finished up the last of it. "Uh, can I use your bathroom?"

"Other side of the bedroom. Ready for some more soup?"

Chris stood up, placing a hand on the back of the chair. For some reason he didn’t feel hungry anymore. “Nah, I’m good.” He glanced out the airshaft and again a slight paranoia gripped him as he looked into the inky darkness. In the apartment across from them something was moving. He was wobbly, but more than stoned, he was suddenly horny. He also saw he was starting to get a woody, one that was pretty evident wearing only thin underwear. Manetti noticed it too. Chris excused himself before it became even more obvious.

Suddenly, he was confused by the apartment layout. Off the kitchen was the only other room, a bedroom. Off it, a small closet, and a smaller closet with a toilet and a dinky sink. In the bedroom a sling hung over a futon on the floor. He knew what it was even though it was the first sling he'd ever encountered. He'd seen them in Ben's magazines, the ones he left behind between his mattresses. Rawhide, Stroke, Bound and Gagged, and Chris' favorite, Magnum. He saw the leg straps, the leather pillow, the wrist restraints, the mirror perched over the top. He felt himself woozy, and grabbed a leg strap to steady himself. Not the best choice, for it immediately flew away from him and with his other hand he had to grab the metal support. The whole sling set into motion a round of clanging as chains banged against metal posts.

"You okay in there?" Manetti's voice called out from the kitchen. He peered around the kitchen door to see if the kid was still standing.

"Yeah, I'm good," Chris answered stumbling to the bathroom.

"I bet you are," Manetti responded with a laugh. "Ben said you were a choir boy. That really true?"

"Really true." He shut the bathroom door, relieved that he had found a room, compact as it was, where he could compose himself. As soon as he shut the door, he struggled to get his act together. He mulled over the fact that there were only two rooms in the entire apartment—kitchen, bedroom. Where was he going to sleep? And, fuck, he couldn’t deny how horny he was for Manetti. He saw how the evening was leading in one direction, and he saw he couldn’t and didn’t want it to go any other way. But he was scared. Manetti would be gentle, he reassured himself. That first embrace in the hallway surely proved he would understand that, being his first time, his brother’s lover would be gentle, would let him take things at his own pace. But he was his brother's lover. But he was also a hustler. His brain was frazzled.

Sitting down with his underwear around his ankles he looked up at the back of the bathroom door. Taped to it was a foldout from Magnum magazine. It was Ben and Manetti sixty-nining each other with their forearms up each other's ass. Cocks dripping, Crisco smearing, Ben and Manetti were frozen in a frenzy of fists. Chris popped a rock hard boner and dropped the biggest shit of his entire life.

***

Manetti unhooked the leg straps from the end of the sling, folded it in half, then re-attached the straps to the arm hooks. That left the futon on the floor unencumbered from above. He popped in one of Drax's bareback twink videos in the VCR, grabbed the remote and laid back on the futon propping his head with an oversize pillow against the radiator. It was late but the Tina laced joint had him in a semi-energized mood. He was sure Chris must have felt similarly.

The toilet flushed and Chris emerged. The boy, still clad only in his white underwear, shirtless, flawless, a thin little scarecrow, stood at the bathroom door. Blond hair, dry now but flying every which way. A perfect skinny beach boy, ten years Ben's baby brother. Their resemblance was minimal. Whereas he and Ben worked out regularly, having pecs, necks, and 'ceps to prove it, Chris, looking around the small studio confused, seemed frail. He was more than a little intimidated by all the pornography he was discovering on the walls, porn stars Manetti and Ben had either known or worked with over the years. Most of them signed. "To Manetti / Good times, bad times, baddest times! Rich" or "Big Ben / Your name does not lie, Eric."

"Come. Sit," encouraged Manetti patting the space next to him. "How you feel? Like the joint?"

"Yeah, man," said Chris, trying to sound cool. "That's powerful dope. It's dusted?"

"Nah, a little Tina. You like?" Chris gave a single nod with a flicker in his eye that Manetti zeroed in on. He casually took a sip of water he’d brought from the kitchen. "Want to try it pure?"

Chris sat next to him cross legged. "I guess so," he said. Manetti could smell him. A little grungy, a slight smell of urine probably from the wet, dirty underwear. Ben had told Manetti he thought his little brother was on-again and off-again homeless, at least not staying at his house much 'cause of the mom's new boyfriend. Manetti grabbed a pipe from the window ledge, set his glass aside, and stuffed the pipe with a little white powder from a baggy. He handed the pipe to Chris.

"Have you blown clouds before?" Manetti knew the answer before he asked it. Chris shook his head. Up close Chris was even more striking than across the table. It was his eyes, soulful lost puppy eyes. When you first looked at him he looked just like any skinny white kid, but sitting crossed legged next to him, you could really see how lost he was. His six pack abs wasn’t from working out but from not eating enough, his ribcage was pronounced when he breathed. Hairless chest, tiny nipples, little or maybe no armpit hair. The kid didn't even look like he shaved yet. Whereas he was all hair. From his heavy five o'clock shadow that was dark even right after a morning shave, strong jaw with a cleft chin, his father’s rugged aquiline nose, shaggy, unkempt cluster of chestnut hair, and trade-famous pointed sideburns. "Just inhale it like you would hash and hold it." Chris did as he was told. The kid was nothing if not a fast learner. And obedient. The idea of introducing him to Drax crossed his mind. He brushed the thought away. The kid was much too cherry. Drax would eat him alive. Still, what was he going to do with him after tonight? He was definitely going to get in the way of his trade. As Chris was about to blow the smoke out, Manetti took the boy’s mouth and covered it with his own. He breathed in the smoke from Chris' lungs, held it for a beat before exhaling. "No need to waste it. You take it from me this time." Manetti lit the bottom of the pipe, waited for the white cloud to form, then sucked it in. Out of the corner of his eye he could tell Chris was grappling with how Manetti had grabbed his chin and brought their lips together.

Chris watched him, biting his lip with anticipation, moving closer to Manetti’s mouth. It was almost like kissing, something he'd never done with man. Manetti motioned with his finger and Chris moved in. Manetti exhaled into him, breathed a new kind of life into him. As he held it, Manetti leaned back against the pillow. "So, what's your plan, Chief?" Chris followed suit and leaned back into the large pillow he shared with Manetti. After he'd exhaled, Manetti took a long sip of water. He offered the glass to Chris.

"Don't really have one. Thanks." Chris took a sip and handed the glass back to Manetti.

"Not a really good plan, Chief--not to have a plan. Ben thought you were queer. He right?" Manetti was fixed on the TV, watching a blond dude about Chris' age but not as skinny getting sucked by a balding, stocky daddy type.

"I used to beat off to Ben's porn. So I guess, yeah. Twice, when I stayed over at my best friend Jeff's place, before his parents didn’t want me coming around anymore, we jacked off to some straight shit.” Chris looked around again at all the porn posters and photos hanging on the walls. “I think I recognize that guy in that poster there from one of them," he said pointing to a huge 'roided porn star with an extra-long dick, one with perfect hyper-masculine features perched on the hood a Rolls Royce. It was signed "To Manetti, thanks for the ride, TJ.

"Mr. No Balls? Hah! Tyler says he's straight, only does gay for pay. Don't believe him. You can shit in his mouth and he'd pay you for it." Chris barked out a surprised laugh. “No, seriously he loves twinks. I bet if I call him right now, he’d come over and ask you shit in his mouth.” Manetti made a motion like he was going to get up and call, but Chris, laughing, held him back. Chris’ hand on Manetti’ shoulder, feeling it's mass, registered quickly on both of them. Chris quickly put his hands back in his lap. Manetti added a little more white power to the pipe. "’Nother hit, Chief?" Chris nodded. His heart was already pounding and he felt flush all over. He was also pulling on his pud unconsciously, getting a little wet spot on the tip, staining his already stained underwear. Manetti took note, seeing the kid was totally unaware of what he was doing. He calmly fired up the pipe and slowly leaned into Chris. He blew into his lungs lightly adding just the tip of his tongue, and deliberately scraping the boy’s face lightly with his cheek. Chris's eyes widened. He'd never felt a beard against his face like that. "So that's it. A couple wanks with Jeff, you on one end of the couch, your best bud on the other, eyes glued straight to the TV. Aware of him but never dared to look. Am I right or am I right?"

"Yeah, something like that.” Chris’ mind spun. His next words flew out of him as if he was compelled to confess to Manetti. “Except one time this real nerd, Kyle--I never told nobody this--he helped me with some math homework. His parents both worked so we were alone at his house. Everyone knew he was a fairy. Ran like a girl. We were in his bedroom. He put his hand on my pants, which usually kind of hangs 'cause I don’t hitch ‘em up, and he pulled them right off me and gives me a blow job. Like, I didn’t even stop him even though he was sucking my dick. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” But it felt good being open with Manetti. He felt a mild release and a kind of excitement in the act.

"Did you give Kyle a blow job back?"

Chris scoffed at the thought. Then after a beat, added, “Actually, I thought about it. Sometimes late at night, jacking off under the covers, I remembered how much I liked it. How soft his mouth was. How it felt to cum into it, into this big wet thing. Like how I didn't have to hold back at all. Like how maybe I’d like to give Jeff a blow job. Give him the same feeling. Like he wouldn’t have to hold back and just cum in my mouth and I’d swallow it. Okay, shut up. Stop talking now,” he said, talking to himself in a dark voice that could have been his father's.

Manetti laughed, but made a quick U-turn and became serious. "Well, what wasn't nice, Chief, is that you should always reciprocate. Know what I mean? I mean if I gave you a blow job, I'd expect you'd give me one back. That’s only fair, right? And if I rimmed your ass, I expect you'd return the favor."

"What’s rimming?" asked Chris. Manetti looked at him sideways, saw he was honestly confused. This kid was too innocent to be believed!

“You must have seen it in one of Ben’s magazines.” Chris shook his head. Manetti found the remote control and sped the video up. "There. See what that kid’s doing?" Manetti pointed at the screen where the blond kid was under the old daddy’s hairy ass. "He’s eating man's pussy."

"The fuck out!" protested Chris but didn't take his eyes from the screen. Manetti saw the kid's boner tenting up in his shorts. "That's fucking nasty, man. Gross! Why would someone do that?" Yet the boy’s eyes couldn’t be pried from the screen with a crowbar. He was pulling again at his underwear.

"It's like getting a blow job but a hundred times better.” He motioned to Chris’ hardon. "Looks as if you like the nasty." Chris stopped pulling at his dick alarmed. “Wait. I’ll fast forward. You're gonna love this." The VHS tape sped up, then skidded to a stop. The boy was now under a rim seat with the daddy sitting on top. A close-up showed the boy lifting his head, licking the daddy’s balls then sticking his tongue deep into the daddy’s hairy ass. "I bet you’d be good under there."

Chris felt his whole skin glisten in a light sweat. His nerves felt electric. Manetti flicked off the room lamp. The room basked in the blue glow of the TV. Chris felt an imaginary blanket was enveloping him and Manetti, separating them from the world. With the light off, he had an urgent need to take off his underwear and bare himself to Manetti. Manetti sensed it and reached out and slipped off Chris' underwear.

The kid had a surprisingly nice seven inch rod, rigid and beaded with pre-cum. Very little pubic hair. Looked like he clipped it, too. His legs were hairless, thin and smooth. Such smooth pale skin got him excited and he casually opened his robe revealing his long, uncut cock angling above his firm, hairy belly. Chris looked at him achingly. He took the boy's hand and placed it on his manmeat. Chris caressed it lightly at first, the first time he'd ever touched a man’s penis. Manetti felt him quickly go from a light touch to a firm grip. He pumped a little in the boy's hand. The hand barely wrapped around his shaft. But what he did hold was like being in the grip of a cobra. His other hand aimed for Manetti’s chest. His finger ran through his chest hair making a bee-line for his pierced nipple. When he made contact, Manetti could wait no longer. He pounced, gripping Chris’ legs and spinning him around, pulling his legs into the air to expose his butthole. He dove down to engulf his sphincter and the kid let out a moan of pure pleasure, his neck arched looking up to his face. "Oh, fuck. Dude," Chris cried. "Oh, shit that feels good. Jesus. Christ! Oh shit." It coaxed Manetti to pull the boy's pursed asslips apart even more and deep dived his tongue into this virgin hole.

“Push out,” Manetti ordered. "More!" The boy hadn't wiped well and there was an acrid taste of shit around the kid's stained hole. It horned Manetti even more, driving his tongue deeper into this nasty, puckering pit. “Push fucker!”

Every nerve ending in Chris' bunghole bristled in pleasure as he pushed out his hole. Manetti's long tongue dug into the hole, which fought instinctively against entry. Manetti’s mouth was relentless, chewing, licking, sucking on the boy's ass lips. Chris tried fighting against the tongue from entering, but bit by bit he felt the pleasures of giving up his hole, physically and mentally, to push out and let this man he’d met only a few hours before, enter him in his most vulnerable spot. Manetti beard scratched his tender skin, but it felt incredible, loosened him more and more. He heard the man spit, his hole dripping wet, and felt a finger entering him. This was the first time he'd ever been penetrated, and though it was uncomfortable and hurt, at the same time it excited him. He felt conflicted, fooling around with his brother's boyfriend, afraid of where this might lead. But he knew where he wanted it to lead. Manetti held his legs firmly, looked down into his open face. Chris was afraid and yet attracted at the same time. Manetti was all hair, chest, shoulders, a black jungle around his cock, even a bit of hair on his back that he felt with his legs. Manetti held his legs over his shoulders to dig into that smooth, tasty boyhole. From that vulnerable position, Manetti sucked in a testicle, then the other, which made the kid cry out in pleasure and surprise. He then returned to that beautiful virginal, pliable, slowly opening tunnel.

The sensation of having his hole eaten was driving him wild. Hoarsely, he spat out, "Mike, I want to return the favor." Manetti looked down into the boy's face, became curious, wondering if the kid would do it or would cop out at the last minute. He released him and the kid scurried through Manetti’s legs, putting himself beneath the man's furry butt like he'd seen the twink do on TV. Manetti squatted over his face as he felt the boy’s lips surrounding his crack. The kid pulled on Manetti's legs to get him to squat lower.

"Oh, fuck yeah. You're as big of a pig as your brother. Eat my shithole, boy. Dig in, get lost in it.” Manetti ground his ass over the boy’s face. “Rank, right? Be a little toilet pig. You felt what I did, how deep I got. Return that favor. Be a sewer. Be a cell pool. Just give in to it. Get lost in there." And Chris did. His cock remained an iron pole, Manetti noted, while his tongue didn’t stop for a moment cleaning his dirty shithole.

Chris had never felt as uninhibited as this. Manetti’s whole butt was one massive trench of black hair. The crack seemed to go on forever. He licked and licked, searching to find the center. Manetti’s musky odor drove his brain into delirium. He was a boy on a mission and would not give up until he made Manetti’s hole feel as good as Manetti had made his. Minutes went by till he arrived, finding the smooth oasis of flesh through the dark brush. It pulsed with heat on his tongue, and gave off the pure scent of a man. He couldn't believe how wonderfully soft the skin felt across his tongue nor the nasty smell that reeked from his hole. Instead of being repulsed by the stench, he was in a frenzy to please Manetti but he also found he really liked it. He did what Manetti had done and lapped and circled the hole, until he found he could dart his tongue inside, which produced an animal snarl from Manetti. "Rrrrrr, fuck yes, piglet. Get in there you little fuck pig." Then something happened Chris didn't quite understand, but knew in his gut he liked right away. The hole he was chewing on opened up slightly and a vast area of Manetti's rectum pushed out with it. His mouth was confronted with his first rosebud, although at the time he didn't know what it was. Right after this mound of gelatinous flesh revealed itself to him, like some startled sea creature, it pulled back into its hole. Manetti went wild. Chris felt his legs being pulled in the air again, separated, a tongue slithered into his entrance. An infinite amount of pleasure, giving and receiving, before there was a brief pause, then a heavy hand cracked against his butt. "Say, Thank you, Sir."

"Thank you, Sir," repeated Chris, his ass stinging, feeling a sense of shame and pleasure and pride all at the same time.

"You taste so fucking good, I want to eat you up, little pig," growled Manetti. "Big bad wolf's going to make a feast of you! Let's get you in the sling. I have to bang this pretty pussy." They sprang up and he quickly showed Chris how to connect the legs chains back to the hooks. Chris rubbed his butt and felt the heat from the slap Manetti had given him. "Climb in, boy, and I'll give you the ride of your life." As Chris was figuring out how to get in, Manetti said, "You liked blowing clouds?" Chris nodded. "Then you're going to love this." He quickly poured some powder in a shot glass, mixed a little water in it and sucked it up in a plunger. "Okay, settle in. Put your legs through here.” Manetti paused, then ran a hand up and down Chris' torso, ending by fondling his cock and balls. “You happy you met me?” Chris nodded excitedly. "And you've never been fucked before?" Chris shook his head fiercely, anticipating what was to come. “Comfy?" Chris nodded again eagerly, starting to slowly rub himself against Manetti's paw. "Not so fast, boy. I want you to learn to feel it not just in your dick but also inside your hole.” Manetti pulled Chris' dick away from his body till the boy cried, then let it slap against his belly. “You gonna do whatever Sir says, yes slave?" Manetti squeezed a little lube on Chris' hole. He wet a finger in his mouth and pushed it up Chris' ass a good inch or two. It was uncomfortable for a second while Manetti twisted his finger lubing all sides of Chris’ tight cave, but Manetti kept wiggling it around and Chris not only got used to the sensation, but found himself writhing a bit on Manetti's finger, trying to get him to penetrate him further. "Okay, this'll be a little cold and might sting, but just for a minute." Manetti replaced his finger with the plunger, stuck it up Chris's canal as far as it would go, and then shot the liquid into the boy's empty hole.

Shit yes, it was cold and stung like a bitch. Chris bore down as Manetti finished injecting his ass with the cold liquid, then pulled the plunger out of him. At first he felt nothing but coldness warming up inside him. He felt a bit let down anticipating something intense. Manetti looked him over, stroked his erect dick and tweak his small nipples. “Feel anything yet?” Chris shook his head. Manetti went over to the VHS recorder and switched tapes. While it was revving up, Manetti put on a leather cap and vest over his naked hairy body. Chris was truly impressed, if not a little intimidated, by the severe transformation a few bits of clothing made to Manetti. It also altered Manetti's attitude. Manetti looked straight out of one of his brother’s leather magazines. It brought out a sense of privilege and arrogance even. Manetti went to the bookshelf and opened a box and pulled out an orange capped rig. He strapped his arm with a tourniquet, feeling for a vein against the dim TV light. He slammed himself and started breathing heavily. His mouth shaped into a round 'O' and his eyes widened in sudden astonishment.

Something was happening in Chris too, something like a serpent emanating from his hole. He felt a strong surge of desire. "You look so fucking hot, Sir. Like a god." Chris could not see Manetti’s eyes, only dark pockets where his eyes should be. Chris couldn’t help himself and started pleasuring his ass with a finger. Words flew out of him. "Or like the devil," he whispered like at confession. Something heating up inside his hole made him feel intensely desire Manetti intensely. Wanting him like he never wanted anything before.

Manetti cough. "FUCK!" Manetti shouted widening his eyes. "Christ fuck!" He could barely stand, and leaned heavily on the bookcase. "Hot damn, boy. How you feeling?” He was breathless, trying to put the orange cap back on the rig. “You feel it now?"

Manetti looked out of focus to Chris, but a feeling of euphoria was sweeping through his body, making himself pull on his cock at the same time he fingered his butthole. He felt electric, energized, wanted Manetti to touch him all over, maybe even smack him again. "I feel great, Sir,” he said. As Manetti staggered from the bookcase and came closer, he sat up in the sling and ran his hands across Manetti’s hairy chest. "I wanted to do that, Sir, the second I came in the door. Fuck, you are so hot. My ass is yours. Whatever you want to do to it. Beat me if you want to."

"Beat my ass--SIR!" returned Manetti, now holding on to the chains while he was rushing, where Chris' butt lay exposed, so desirous of being fucked for the very first time.

"Yes, SIR, beat my ass again--SIR." And Manetti did, harder than the first time. "Thank you, SIR," replied Chris, falling back against the leather pillow, pushing his ass out of the sling.

A light turned on in the room across the airshaft. Chris didn't notice, but Manetti did.

"You're welcome, boy. Let's get you settled in." With that Manetti quickly locked his leg restraints, still breathing heavily, punctuating fucks under his breath as he worked.

Before Chris knew it, Manetti had restrained his arms above his head. He gladly went along with whatever Manetti wanted to do. As long as it didn't involve needles. That was the only thing that freaked him a little but he tried not to think about it. If it wasn't for the feeling of horniness overcoming every molecule in his body he might have been spooked by the restraints. But now he was accepting everything that this hairy demon breathing over him was doing. It was easy to inhale Manetti’s pheromones, which blotted out the picture of him hunched over, shooting up. Or maybe he secretly liked that. He didn’t know what he thought anymore. He arched his head toward Manetti’s cock. It was veiny, half sheathed in foreskin. Leaking pre-cum. He licked it. A taste of salt and cheese. Nothing had ever tasted so delicious and desirable to him. He still had a trace of Manetti’s dirty ass on his lips and it mixed with salt and cheese from his foreskin.

Manetti turned on a light over the sling and flipped on a video camera propped next to the bookcase. He slowly turned the boy’s peach fuzz face to the side, checked that the view finder was in close, recording each translucent strand of blond hair on the boy's upper lip, and slid his veiny cock into the boy's mouth.

Chris swallowed half his fat nob on first try. Manetti was impressed at how much he took in. He pushed him further, getting half his shaft into the boy's mouth, feeling where the boy’s throat constricted, made him choked on his shaft, then skull-fucked him at that length for a while as his cock grew from semi-flaccid to fully engorged. Manetti withdrew his cock from his mouth, and a web of pre-cum hung like a spider web between them. He let his uncut cock trace over Chris’ pursed mouth. "Ah baby," he said looking into his eyes. "I'm going to fucking love knocking you up."

Chris felt the words echo in his head, puzzled at first by their meaning. On the TV screen a body was being pummeled by a Master with a whip, with a boy writhing in pain and ecstatically twisting under the lash. He looked back at Manetti. Beyond the harsh light shining on him, in the dim light of the room, he saw covered by the beautiful black fur surrounding Manetti's navel, the three prongs of a biohazard tattoo. Manetti placed a red ball in his mouth and tied it behind his head. Chris realized too late what the ball was for, and started fighting against his bindings. Manetti pushed in between his legs. The kid tried to close his legs but the sling and Manetti easily pried him open. He was exposed and vulnerable. Manetti greased his cock and lubed the boy's tight hole. With his first thrust his aim was true. He slid the entire length of the kid's clutching rectum, straight up to his thick black patch of pubic hairs. The girth of his shaft ripped the boy's hole apart. Manetti's hairy balls smacked into the boy's tailbone. He didn't stop till he was right up the boy's chute, fully inside.

The boy cried in anguish behind the red ball, tears in his eyes, panic running across his face. Fiercely he was breathing, spitting saliva through the ball in heaving gulps of air. Spit ran down his chin and cheek. He fought as much as he could against the thickness of Manetti’s enormous shaft, against his cuffed arms and legs, but the struggle only engorged Manetti’s immense tool more. "Fight against it, bitch. I love it." Manetti picked up his pace. The pain was unbearable but he was helpless to stop it, and with every stroke he felt his resistance falling away.

The longer it went on, and against his will, he started deriving a small bit of pleasure from the pain. Chris slowly began to unclench against Manetti’s girth. For a while, at the pinnacle of each thrust, Manetti would hold his crotch against Chris' hole, letting the boy experience the magnitude of the amount of raw flesh that filled his hole. Chris felt all the hairs of Manetti's pubis surround his hole. Manetti gyrated inside him. He felt the stiff cock push his insides around, moving everything inside, his bladder, his prostate, a gateway to an inner chamber. The sensations started owning him. Making him feel things he didn't know he could feel, sensations that were newly possible.

Manetti felt Chris’ hole beginning to open. He looked into the bound boy’s blue eyes and saw a dawning pleasure deep within him. He wasn’t sure the boy even knew he was beginning to draw pleasure from his pain, but he would know and eventually desire it in ever increasing amounts. He knew this journey well, and he would have the boy follow in his tracks. Tears were being overcome with lust as the chemicals were taking over Chris' body. The boy stopped struggling and for a moment became placid. Manetti grew annoyed with the passivity so with both hands, as hard as he could, he smacked Chris' ass with his full force. It made Chris yelp and clench his sphincter which pleased Manetti. He looked down on the boy and was surprised to see a spark of gratitude in Chris' eyes. Just a spark. He needed to work him harder.

They fell into a rhythm. For minutes that turned to hours Chris got used to the battering his hole was taking. When he went slack, Manetti slapped him to tighten him up, or twisted his small nipples until he tried to cry out in pain behind the gag. At the beginning, Chris fought the massive rod slamming into him and the occasional whipping his ass endured. But after non-stop fucking, accepting the alternating pleasure and pain, he came to desire the torpedo that was tearing him inside. The familiar walloping he received growing up, he secretly desired from Manetti. In the mirror he watched and felt his butt turn from pink, to red, to purple. At some point he got lost in it, started thrusting himself to get impaled deeper, to be slapped harder, to be punished for sins he couldn’t name.

Manetti felt Chris' entire canal loosening. The ass smacking was now built into their fucking. Chris, in fact, in a haze, began thanking him behind the red ball. Whether or not Manetti heard him was questionable, for Manetti's eyes rolled back in his head and he mindlessly fucked and abused what at times became an anonymous body splayed beneath him. Manetti occasionally snapped out of his daze and saw how much he was controlling this innocent young kid, this younger version of his partner, his boyfriend, his lover--imagined he was fucking an innocent version of Ben, one from long ago--then he would lose himself again to the sheer, dark pleasure he derived from his raw cock having its way in a stranger's body. He felt himself edging closer to a climax as his mind vacillated between thoughts of Ben and this new fresh piece of nameless meat. As he felt he was close to cumming, he broke through to awareness of Chris beneath him. He saw Chris' sweat meat never lost its erection no matter what he did to him. He started playing with the boy's dick, milking him, lightly slapping his face so that he came out of his drugged revelry. "I'm about to cum, Chris,” he said as the boy focused on his mouth and words, “but I’m not going to cum in you unless you cum first, got that? That shows you want me to give you my poz cum. Shows me you want to be my fuckhole no matter what. Let’s me own you." Through blurred eyes Chris lobbed his head from side to side no, but almost immediately started squirming his cock in Manetti clenched fist. "I can't tell if you're trying to get away from me, fuckhole, or you're jacking yourself in my hand. I think you're jacking, you little cum pig." He broke into a dark smile. "Feel how hard you are?"

Chris kept bucking, thrashing, squirming away in a sea of ecstasy and lust, both wanting this man to cum and fearing it with all his fiber, but he couldn't hold back, jacking into his fist and slamming back onto his cock, a see-saw that wouldn't end until he pushed himself over the edge. He let loose the longest stream of cum he'd ever shot. Ribbons of sperm spewed over the room. The boy’s hole clenched and spasmed as he shot, immediately triggered Manetti who gushed in rivers of ropey sperm up the boy's open chute. They both quaked in orgasms, each building on the other’s spuming bodies, until they were thrashing uncontrollably against each other, grinding bone against bone, skin against raw skin, till there was a thrust of Manetti that hung in the air, then one more, then a final lunge plunging Manetti deep inside Chris. He held it there, on the edge, feeling himself unload an afterbirth of cum.

Manetti stood dripping heavy sweat onto Chris' glistening chest. He rubbed Chris' cum all over his chest and face. He sucked the boy's small nipples, licked up and down the boy's arms, licked his pits, still hard and draining inside him.

“You still with me?” he whispered, as he loosened the ball in Chris’ mouth.

“That was fucking fantastic.” The boy’s eyes, drugged as they were, did not lie. Manetti kissed him deep, then lay on top of him feeling his heart beating against his. He rested there for a moment feeling the slickness between them, the kid’s sperm matting his chest and abs and pubes. He licked up a river of the boy’s cum welled in his sternum, and was surprised to see Chris open his mouth for him. The boy had the makings of a true pig, he thought, as he released the drool into the greedy boy's maw. He watched the lust still simmering within the boy as he swallowed. Maybe he was Drax material after all.

***

Chris leaked when Manetti squeezed his dick. His still hard purple head was covered in spooge and Manetti wanted to torture the kid for a bit, polishing his nob, just ‘cause he could. The palm of his hand went back and forth as Chris squirmed in pleasure and pain under his control. “Stop! No,” he laughed howling and thrashing. The wall phone in the kitchen immediately began to ring and light flood into their darkened room from across the airshaft. The light brought Manetti more in focus to Chris, breaking their intimacy slightly. As his mind settled back from his raging high, what they had just done started to frighten him a little. Manetti’s slimy cock slid out of Chris' ass like a fat slug. There was an audible 'plop' like a cork as it popped out of the grip of his sphincter, and he felt a small amount of liquid dribbled out his crack, down his tail bone and slide under his back.

Manetti went into the kitchen and picked up the receiver and silently listened. "Thanks," he finally said. "Yes, he definitely has a hot pussy, Master," said Manetti into the receiver. The long phone cord allowed him to come back into the room talking. "We were that loud, huh?" He gave Chris an 'oops' look. "Well, I'm glad it enticed you, Sir." Manetti paused, then was quiet for quite a while, considering the proposal from the person on the other end of the line. He grew serious looking at Chris while the voice on the other end continued speaking. There was a pause on the other end, seeming to wait for Manetti to reply. Then the voice added a few words, which brought a smile to Manetti’s lips. "Well, we were probably going to bed, but I think our boy could be convinced otherwise. What do you say, Chief?" Manetti asked the bound boy covering the mouthpiece. "Up for a drop-by to my Master’s? Could be worth your while," he said rubbing his fingers together and wiggling his dark brows. "Even might be the beginning of a long term plan. A little for you, a cut for me, and the rest for Master. Maybe the plan you were looking for, Chief." Manetti’s teeth glowed in the light from across the airshaft. Chris gave him an I-don’t-know look in return. Frankly, he'd do what Manetti wanted him to do as long as Manetti was there. Back to the phone, he said, "Sure, the kid's psyched to meet you. We’ll come over right away." He paused. "Yes, Sir, I know what you like. I'll get him prepped just like that. Right, give us a little time then." Another pause, then a finger went up Chris’ hole. “Yep, he’s still wet but his hole is tightening.” Manetti sucked his finger smiling at Chris. “Sure, I have some G. Will do.” He went back into the kitchen and hung up. "Boy, to get through this night, I think we need to up your game." Manetti came back into the room and stopped by the bookcase and picked up the box with the orange tipped needles. He came over to Chris, who suddenly became alarmed, shook his head emphatically side to side. Manetti saw the kid stressing and put his hand on his face to reassure him. “Nah, Chief, nothing like that,” he said lifting out a little vial of liquid, putting a reassuring hand on Chris’ beating heart. “Only a couple of drops of G right now to prep you.” He took an eyedropper and counted out some drops in his water glass, swirled it around, and put the class up to Chris’ mouth.

“What is it?”

“Something that’ll take the edge of the booty bump I gave you. Makes you relax. Kind of like a warm bath. Nasty tasting though,” he broke into an evil grin. “But you like nasty, right?” Chris took a sip and made a face. “Yeah, I know. Here, I’ll take some too so we’ll be on the same planet, okay?” Manetti drank and made the same face as Chris. He got Chris to drink a little more. “Drink me, Alice,” Manetti said in a tiny voice. “You’ll need it to get through the door.” Chris gave him a blank look. “Never mind. Here, take this too. It’s a muscle relaxer. I think you’ll need it.” He put a white pill on Chris' tongue, and let him wash it down with a last sip from the glass.

“Why do I need a muscle relaxer? Is he going to fuck me, Mike?”

“Most definitely, he’s going to fuck you, buddy, and he’s a lot bigger than me, and I ain’t no small zucchini, am I?”

“Oh shit.” Chris' head fell backward.

“Yeah, but on the bright side look how hard you are. I gotta warn you though, if you come with me, Master Drax does believes in everyone slamming and doesn’t take no for an answer. So rule number one: never say no. He has lots of ways to make you say yes and they aren't any fun, believe me. Second rule: don't say 'I can't.' To him that translates to 'I won't.'" Chris looked trouble. Manetti went on, "Your Catholic so you'll get this: Saying no means he can always change your mind, so to him that's a venial sin. But refusing him outright, saying you won't? That's a mortal sin. And you don't want to do that. Ever. Got it?”

“I think I wanna stay here, if that’s alright.”

“You're scared of needles ‘cause of your ma, huh?” asked Manetti, with a note of compassion. “Your brother told me she was tasting even before Carl came sniffing around. He said last time he checked in with you guys, she was living with Carl, but she was married to her H.”

“Can you untie me?” Chris asked. Manetti removed his cuffs and Chris slid out of the sling and sat on the futon crossed legged. He started looking around the room then looked at his boner. “Man, is this ever going down?” He tried to make a joke of it, but Manetti saw the G was making only a mild dent in his mood. He was playing again with himself, pinching his nipples, which seemed to be something new to him, was a tactic, thought Manetti, to try and take his mind off his family and this, Manetti saw, wasn't working. The Prior Puss was taking over the evening.

Manetti knew he had to distract the kid for a while for the G to take full effect. “Hey, how’d you like me to shave you?" Chris perked up and looked at him curiously. "I shave Ben all the time and he loves it. It’ll really calm you down. It goes well with G too. Wanna try?" His caterpillar eyebrows wiggled. "I love shaving your brother.”

“What do I do?”

“Nothing but lie there. Just look pretty." Manetti went toward the bathroom. "Like you could ever not look pretty.” The words did their job and Chris laid down smiling. Manetti went in and made preparations.

Chris lay there blushing and grinning to himself. He could see why Ben liked this guy. “But I like my bush,” he called out to Manetti in mock protest. He felt his small bush. Not much of one he had to admit.

“You clip it, baby. Think it makes you look bigger, right? Ya’know you got nothing to be ashamed of.” He came back in with a bowl of water, shaving cream, and a straight razor. "I know you'll enjoy this." He sat next to Chris, and set out his wares. "Listen: Master Drax has special tastes. We'll start with the simplest. He likes his new boys shaved. Everywhere." Manetti wrang out a wash cloth over the pan and soak the little bit of blond pubes Chris had. "You like keeping it short. But maybe you don't want them at all. Prefer to stay a boy." He sprayed foam in his hand and covered Chris' pubes. For pleasure or torture, he also coated his shaft and balls, massaging it in until Chris was squirming again in his hand. A few well-placed strokes of the razor and Chris' pubes were gone. He spent special time kneading his balls, flattening them out, squeezing them hard. Part pain and eventually part pleasure for Chris. "Lay your arms back." His pits were easy to shave. While on the second pit, Manetti said, "Man, how long since you showered, boy?"

"A month, I guess." Chris was starting to float in his body. He succumbed to the water and the warmth of the rag. With Manetti taking care of him, they were bonding closer. It was a feeling he didn't want to lose.

"A month?" he asked incredulously.

"Last gym class I took, I guess. After that I stopped going to school."

"Well, no wonder you smell like a hobo." He gave a small laugh as he scraped the last of Chris' arm pit hair. "Master's probably gonna like your smell. Once I finish your butt, I should probably douse you with a finishing touch." Chris opened his eyes to see Manetti pretending to take a wiz on him. Chris mouthed silently, fuck, yeah, agreeing to whatever came into Manetti's dirty mind. "Up, Chief. Back in the sling." Chris got up slowly, then slunk back in the sling and put his legs in the stirrups. Manetti moved down below Chris' butt hole, pulled up a stool and started soaping his crack. To Chris, the feeling was sensuous; to Manetti it was salacious. He played with the boy's hole for a while, prying it apart with two fingers up and down, and then side to side. He spat in it and pulled some of his own cum to use as lube. He stuck a finger deep inside, rubbing his prostate and generally feeling out the kid's hole. Chris head lolled to the side enjoying the sensations, looking up to the mirror occasionally catching Manetti brown head studying his anal anatomy. Soon, with a few deft strokes, his cheeks were soft and smooth. The purple hand prints on his butt were fading to pink. "Okay, hardest part. You're nicely stretched but I want you to remain totally relaxed." He took the straight razor and made micro-scrapes against the boy sphincter. Each stroke made the boy clench. He stopped for a moment, stood up, and smacked his ass hard. "I'm serious now, boy. Stop flinching or I'm going to slice you. I'm a lot more careful than Master would be, so you want me doing this, not him." Chris bit his lip. He liked when Manetti ordered him around, but he was apprehensive if he could keep his hole perfectly relaxed.

"I'll try."

"Rule three: there is no try, only do. Think Yoda. Seriously, I'm going to put this inside you," he said holding up the straight razor. "I'll be twisting it a full three-sixty. If Master finds even one hair in there I can guarantee you your ass is going to be a bloody mess when he's done. Trust me, I know. Picture my hole for a minute. Yours is a piece of cake."

Chris felt the warm washcloth wipe the remainder of soap away. He then felt Manetti's tongue circle his hole, licking the edges then spiraling deep inside. It felt fantastic. His hole relaxed even more the deeper Manetti's tongue went. Then he felt the cool razor slide ever so gently and slowly into his hole. He concentrated on how relaxed he was under Manetti's spell, how much he liked him, put all his trust in him. Thought only of that. He felt the razor slowly twisted around his open hole. Six, then seven nicks of stray hairs he felt intensely as if they were being ripped out of him. Still he remained open. "Good boy. I'm coming out." The blade fell out slowly. It almost tickled. At the last moment of contact, however, he couldn't hold back a last minute flinch. The blade pricked him only slightly, but enough to draw a small trickle of blood. It stung and his sphincter went into delayed spasms, pushing some residual cum out his hole. Manetti lapped at it without scolding him. His tongue was soothing though Chris knew blood, saliva and Manetti's cum was mixing in his wound. But the lapping tongue was hypnotic. Minutes went by silently. His sphincter stopped clenching and he lightly dozed off feeling Manetti tongue going on for eternity. Not caring what happened next. Remembering only Manetti's tongue lulling him to sleep. He would fall asleep every night like this if he was Manetti's.

***

But he wasn't Manetti's. First one hand was pulled up and buckled in place. Then the other. Still he was content and floating like a baby in a swing. "Good boy. Now for your reward."

From far away he heard the words and responded like he was still asleep. "What?" His words felt unnaturally slow coming out of him. "Wait." He realized his arms were again bound. "Wait. What...?" Through droopy eyes he saw Manetti take out a prepared point.

"Just a small one, Chief. It'll put you in the right frame of mind to meet Master. He's expecting it." Manetti tied a rubber tourniquet around Chris' small bicep and began tapping the crook of his arm. It was pretty easy to find a vein on the skinny boy. He found a juicy one and told the kid to hold still or he might hurt him. Chris stopped squirming and watched with fascinated horror as the needle found it target. "Stick. Tell me if this burns." A swirl of red flooded into the vile and slowly Manetti unloaded the liquid into Chris' vein. The boy felt nothing immediately as Manetti withdrew the needle and pressed his thumb on the point of entry. His other hand unleashed the tourniquet, just as the boy coughed. Chris panicked. Manetti stood above him, his face easing into that large shark smile he'd had before.

"That's it, my red blooded American boy." He watched the kid flush beet red, going through alternating phases. Panic turned to ecstasy, turned back to panic. "Just ride it. That's it. Enjoy it."

"Too intense." Manetti leaned over Chris' face. He knew what would help the kid. He pushed his pec out to hover over his face, unleashing one of the boy's arms. Chris put his hand on Manetti's chest, felt the muscle flexing just for him. He caressed the hair, found the pierced nipple. Manetti bent even lower to the boy. Chris started sucking away, nursing like an infant, both metal and flesh. Chris looked up at Manetti and met the shark smile with one of his own. A smile shaded with a bit of evil he'd never let out before. He struggled to get up forgetting his other hand was still bound. Manetti helped him get it off. Chris buried his face in the man's chest, inhaling him, licking him. Put his face under Manetti’s armpit. Manetti took pleasure in letting him lick the pit, then helped him get up. Chris slid off the sling and began pacing around the bedroom murmuring fuck repeatedly.

"How's that feel? You like?" Chris couldn't form any words but held up his thumb. "Go ahead and lay down. Enjoy the rush. Just ride it through."

As he sat he fell back, feeling like he was falling down a rabbit hole, that the ceiling was rising above him, his vision was crossed and he felt the rush of euphoria jet through him. He was giddy, flush with excitement, he only wished Manetti's cock was back inside him. "Fuck," he grabbed onto the only words that made sense, confessing, "I feel like a little boy with you. I want you to molest me." He felt around his smooth, wet hole and stuck a couple of fingers inside.

Manetti laugh. "You feel it don't you. Feel all those carnal urges you've buried. You want to suck a dog dick, don't you?"

"Yeah. Big horse dick. Your dick. I want to be buried in cum. I want you to fist me like those guys are doing." He flicked his head at the TV where a black guy was punch fisting a young guy in a sling. "I want you to fist me like you and Ben fist. I want you to use dildoes on me and make me have a huge cunt like yours. I want you to fist me to your elbow and your armpit. I want to feel your hairy pit rub against my hole."

"Looks like you like-y? And that's just a teeny bit. More to come at Master Drax." Manetti put the orange cap back on the syringe, and pointed the camera back on the boy as he rolled around feeling all his erogenous zones, spewing a watershed of perversions. Manetti left him to his pleasure, feeling his hole, pulling on his flaccid dick, tweeking his nipples, going at them all with abandon. He went over to the closet and pulled out chaps and put them on, then pulled out a chastity cage out of a drawer and put it in his pocket. He went into the kitchen where he took the metal lid off the bathtub.

Fuck, he heard Chris repeating, unable to contain himself. He heard a never-ending stream of fucks and perverted ideas spewing out of the kid's mouth, that he wanted Jeff to fuck him, for Carl to fuck him. He wanted to have someone at work named Shakir cover him in Valvoline oil and fuck him. He wanted to get fucked in the gas station toilet. He wanted the gas station owner named Drake to fuck him from behind while he licked the urinal. “You think I stink, man? You should smell that toilet some time. It's righteous foul!” The kid had an imagination!

He enjoyed how spun the kid was on such a little amount, how open he was to anything right now. As a test Manetti came back in the room and picked up a filthy jock strap, held it out for the boy to smell. "What do you think of this? It's your brothers." The boy sniffed it and then began to tear into it. He sucked it and his saliva made the jock wet and unlocked the odor of piss emanating from the stains. "You want to wear it over your face to meet Master? I know he'd love that. He's a nasty mother fucker like no one you've ever met." Chris was almost an unrecognizable animal in his drug frenzy, nothing at all like he was when he first came in the door. He was so into it with the jock, it looked like he hardly heard what Manetti was saying. "Ya'know, you’re lucky I took your cherry. Master Drax wouldn't have been so gentle."

"I don’t think," he managed to get out while chewing the jock strap, "that you were that gentle." He was high on piss fumes, high on the residual cum, reeling in lust sucking his brother's jock. He looked at Manetti like an idea had just struck him. "I liked it rough.”

"I'll relay that thought, boy. C'mon, get up. You’re ready to meet Master. He's got a wide variety in his stable. The rougher, the more money he'll make off you. The less limits, the more we’ll all make. Think you'll like that?"

Chris bobbed his head, agreeing to anything Manetti said to him. He sprung up and put the wet jock around his neck. Manetti steered him into the kitchen, told him to get in the tub. "You need a douse before we go."

"Douse of what?" Chris asked, stepping in.

"Master likes raunch, heavy raunch. Let's get you prepped and stinkin'. Open your mouth, pig. You know you want it."

He hadn't thought about it but was susceptible to any suggestion coming from his idol. He laid down in the tub and opened his mouth. Manetti immediately covered him in piss, going up and down the kid's naked body. Chris ran his hands up over his torso like he was washing himself. He let out a low moan of pleasure. "Warm," he sighed.

"Open." Chris stopped rubbing and opened his mouth, propping himself up on his elbows. Manetti took aim and hit his mark right on target. "Swallow." The boy obeyed. It was salty and bitter and came out of Manetti, so he guzzled the piss letting it splash in his mouth, and gulped it down into his stomach. "Good pig. You like that, pig boy?" Chris bobbed his head. Without prompting he leaned back and spread his legs to expose his hole to Manetti. "Okay, you fucking filth pig." With that, Manetti let a stream of piss hit his hole. Some went in and the kid pushed it out like a mini-geyser. "You stinkin’ fuck pig! Get up--you’re ready.” Chris scrambled getting up. They both stopped for a second regarding each other, listening to the remains of piss draining down the pipe. Two massive shark grins flashed between them. Manetti helped him step out of the tub; Chris' platinum hair yellow and flattened, his eyes electric.