This is an erotic work of fiction which describes fantasy gay sex without mentioning the use of condoms or other safe sex methods. We ignore AIDS and other sexually transmitted deseases in our fantasies, but they exist in the real world. Reading stories about fantasy sex and masturbating is safe. Indulging in unsafe sex is stupid. These stories are also written as an encouragement to young gays to identify whether they are naturally submissive and, if so, to go with it and enjoy what they are.
Chapter 1
This is the story of how I came to know myself. How I came to discover and then enjoy my natural submissiveness. The intense sexual excitement of being used, dominated, publicly humiliated, punished and, above all, made obedient to orders.
All this happened while outwardly I followed a perfectly ordered life and career. That I was a gay man I did not try to disguise, but my secret other life remained unknown to my work colleagues and other friends. Somehow it would have lost its mysterious thrilling quality if others had shared my secret of being called away to obey the wishes of the various Masters I came to know and serve.
It all really started when I was 20. I hadn't known my father and so I became the only son of a devoted mother. When she died a month after my twentieth birthday I was feeling lost. I decided to move to London from the small country town where I had been born and brought up. Impossible as it might seem, except for learning about masturbating at school, I'd had no sexual experiences. Unlike my pals, all I knew I wasn't attracted to girls. In fact I felt awkward in my dealings with young women. At the town hall where I worked as a clerk, one young woman had actually asked me if I was gay. She was not being unpleasant, simply curious. She also said it was a pity as I was the best looking guy around. I'd blushed, smiled and said nothing.
Strange how someone saying something like that can change ones life. It made me think. True, I thought, I wasn't bad looking. Small in build, but quite a handsome boy. Boy being the operative word as, much to my embarrassment, I was often mistaken for a sixteen-year-old. Only 5'6" tall with golden blond naturally curly hair, big blue eyes, long eye lashes, wide mouth with naturally red lips and softly spoken. I'm slim with a naturally muscled swimmer's body and my best feature is a prominent rounded bottom. My penis, six inches when hard is not bad. I was to learn later that my angelic choirboy look would be described as "pretty" especially when, after my mum diesd, I grew my hair down to my collar.
I applied for another town hall post in a London Borough. On a higher clerical grade and much better paid. And so the innocent arrived in the capital city. A quiet mouse living in a two-roomed Chelsea flat bought and furnished with the proceeds obtained from selling my mother's three-bedroom house. I spent my first month settling into the new job and decorating my new home. I explored the neighbourhood. More shops, coffee bars and pubs than I'd ever known. By the end of the month I'd found a cosy back street pub I particularly liked. In the evenings and at weekends it was full of men and, despite being somewhat naive, I knew they were gay. I was with my own kind.
Even so, I didn't find making friends easy. I tended to sit in a corner, nursing a glass of beer and watching everyone else chatting and laughing with each other. The same small groups of friends every night enjoying each other's company. On frequent occasions I'd realise some guy on his own was smiling at me, but being terribly shy and inexperienced I didn't return the smile. They'd give up and go off in search of more friendly prey.
One sunny Sunday morning I went off to the pub wearing jeans and a blue button down shirt. I was there before the pub became busy and sat in my corner sipping a lager and lime. One of the regular clique groups gathered at the other side of the room. Except for a few glances and giggles, they ignored me. Then I noticed a very attractive guy take a seat on a stool at the bar and order a drink. He was about 30, dark hair, brown eyes, over six feet tall, broad shoulders, muscular build and wearing cream coloured trousers, an open necked pink shirt and a dark blue blazer. I heard him order a gin and tonic from the barman. He took a swallow and then swivelled in his seat and caught me staring at him. He looked straight at me, held up his glass and smiled, showing a wonderful set of teeth. Too surprised to do anything else, I held up my glass and smiled back. He tapped the empty stool next to him and indicted with his head for me to join him. It was an invitation rather than an order, but I felt wonderful.
This hunk wanted me!
"Hi, my name's David".
Gulping slightly I said "Ian".
"I've seen you here before. Always on your own. Why's that?"
"Well er, I've only been in London a few weeks. Takes time to get to know people."
"Sure. And you're shy?" He spoke with an accent that would be regarded as posh in my hometown.
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"No need to apologise, I like shy boys. Especially cute ones like you. You do know you're cute?"
"Am I?"
"Very. Beautiful in fact. Really quite beautiful". He gazed into my eyes, smiling. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and I lowered my eyes quickly. He put out a hand and lifted my chin. "I want you to tell me all about yourself young Ian, everything."
Another order. Almost stuttering but helped by his frequent prompting I more or less told him my life story and he told me a little about himself. We had little in common. He'd been a boarder at a public school; I'd attended a grammar school. I'd obtained six GCSE's; he'd been to Oxford University. I was doing a correspondence course for my accountancy examinations; he had a degree in Philosophy, politics and economics. He was a senior account executive with an international advertising agency; I was a lowly local government clerk. He'd played cricket for the university; I had to admit I'd never played any team games. Surprisingly he didn't seem put off.
He pushed away my beer glass and bought a large gin and tonic for each of us. The pub was filling up and we were pushed closer together until our knees were touching and our hands were in each other's laps. I quickly put mine down to my sides. David smiled and used his to gently squeeze my hard-on as he continued to gaze into my eyes. I closed my eyes and sighed. I felt him move his hands, stroking each side of my face, slide them down my shoulders and then, gripping my elbows, pull me forward until my knees were between his thighs. He squeezed them together. I felt captured! I opened my eyes and smiled. He leaned forward, put his lips to mine, wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into the sort of kiss I'd never experienced before. His tongue forcing my teeth apart, exploring my mouth and pushing down my throat. I responded instinctively and sucked on his wonderful tongue. His two hands moved down to cradle and squeeze my two arse cheeks. My hands moved up to entwine around his neck.
I didn't know if everyone in the pub was watching us. I didn't care. At last he pushed me away and sat there smiling at me as I took a deep breath and smiled back timidly. A few guys around us clapped and laughed.
"Quite beautiful. I want to have you Ian. What do you say?"
I laughed nervously. I didn't know what to say. Well, I did know what I wanted to say, but well - could one just say it?
"Tell you what boy, I'll take you to Sunday lunch... and then we'll see. How about that?"
"Okay" I managed to mumble. "That would be nice David".
Lunch was in an Italian restaurant just around the corner from the pub. When the waiter handed me the menu and I looked at the prices I realised I was in the most expensive place I'd ever been to.
"I'll order". David said this very firmly. He plucked the menu from my hands, gave it the waiter and ordered the same starter and main course for both of us. Plus more gin and tonics, a bottle of white wine and a bottle of mineral water. We chatted throughout the meal. Mainly questions about me, mainly about my schooldays and teenage experiences. His questions were openly frank, but gently so. When had I first kissed another boy, my first wetdream, my first wank, did I masturbate every day, had I been fucked. The drinks helped me to relax and I was soon giving answers just as frank as his questions. No, I'd never been fucked. Yes, I had played around with another boy at school, but we'd never kissed. He continued to smile and insisted at one point that I smile at him and show my teeth. I did, knowing they were as perfect as his own.
He declined coffee when asked by the waiter and asked for the bill.
"We'll have coffee at my place, shall we?"
It was a statement more than a question and I nodded my head. I was feeling slightly tipsy and in need of a coffee.
We walked to where he'd parked his Jaguar car. He opened the passenger door for me to get in. Inside he checked my safety belt and groped my rock hard prick at the same time. He started the engine and then took my hand and placed it on his crotch. Through the fine cloth of his slacks I could feel a gigantic cock. We drove to his mews home a few streets away behind Sloane Square. Neither of us spoke as I gripped his throbbing tool.
He parked outside the ground floor garage and we went up the stairs to his flat. Me in front having my bottom fondled as we went. Once in the living room he clasped me in his arms and we exchanged another long sexy kiss. He released me and laughed.
"I need a piss. Have a look round. Back in a mo." He rushed off to the bathroom.
The furnishings were a mixture of antiques and modern. All blended to make a most comfortable very spacious room. Gilt framed pictures, modern prints, a fireplace with what I presumed was a gas fired mock log fire, fitted carpet with several large Chinese rugs, armchairs, one or two statuettes of naked athletes, a small dining table with four chairs, a 42" TV and facing it a large Chesterfield sofa. I took a seat on the leather sofa. I must have dozed off until I heard David.
"Okay sleepy head, coffee's here."
I jerked awake to see David placing two mugs of coffee on the glass topped coffee table in front of me. He'd taken off his blazer and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He flopped down on the sofa next to me and put his arm around me. Another passionate kiss. He pulled me up towards him until I was sitting in his lap. The kiss went on and on. I felt him pulling up my legs and removing my shoes, then my socks. Fingers came to my collar and unbuttoned my shirt, pulled it out from my jeans and threw it to one side. His mouth moved down to my nipples and he sucked on them in turn - sucked hard. I was moaning. His hands unzipped my jeans, pulled them down together with my briefs and pushed them over my feet.
I was completely naked while David was still dressed. This hunk of a man was handling my naked body. He started kissing me again as he cradled me in his arms with one large hand under my bottom. Between kisses he whispered in my ear about me belonging to him, being kept naked as his sex boy and doing anything he wanted.
It was impossible to describe how I felt at that moment except that I did want to belong to him and he could do anything he wanted with me. A finger of the hand under my bottom started to move into the crack of my arse, fingering my most private puckered anus. I moaned aloud and sucked on his tongue harder. He stopped kissing and inserted the big finger of one hand into my mouth. I sucked on it lovingly. He replaced the finger with his mouth and the wet finger was back touching my hole, probing, and wetting me. My cock was hard, untouched, and ready to cum. He inserted another finger, fucking me and I was bucking up and down, a bitch on heat.
David removes his fingers, stops kissing me, picks me up and bends me over the arm of the sofa. I heard his zip coming down and his pants dropping to the carpet. His fingers part my cheeks; he applys more spit and the knob of his penis presses into me slowly. I gaspe aloud as I'm entered. And I can't help a few tears as his cock slowly embeds itself in me fully, his pubic hair up against my backside. Tears of joy as much as tears of pain. Louder whimpers as he starts to pump up and down on me. I'm being fucked for the first time in my life and know this is what I need and will need again. To be a man's bitch boy.
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