OLIVER'S ADVENTURES
Chapter 24 (Frankie and Aaron)
by Donny Mumford
My reunion with Frankie is full of unexpected surprises, but then Frankie's always been unpredictable. Frankie's got a hip hop side to him now, he's let his hair grow out to stubby ponytail length, his personal hygiene has slipped noticeably, he's got a gay fuck buddy named Toby, and he's apparently imitating the bossy way Toby fucks him while he and I have sex together. I'm not complaining about last change because it works with my submissive nature where gay sex is involved, but the other changes are not improvements, if you ask me. This next change sounds good initially; it's that Frankie's claiming I'm his boyfriend now. That's something I've wanted since the beginning of last summer, but he's lost some of his sweetness, although it peeks out from time to time. He hasn't lost his looks however, still so cute I get squirmy just looking at him. He tastes as good as ever too so I'm a fairly happy camper at the moment although I prefer the old Frankie to the new one. We've made out, danced together, drank beers with a couple of shots of whiskey, and shaved our pubes. That's for starters. Since then I've sucked his balls, then his cock, and just finished rimming him for five or six minutes and we're both sexually hot like an erupting volcano. Frankie's just ordered me to get a condom; he's ready to fuck me now, which is one of the good changes.
When we'd come upstairs a half hour ago Frankie threw the six pack of condoms I'd bought for him on the middle of the wrinkled sheets on his bed. I grab the pack and open it, fumbling to get one ready while continuing to stare disbelievingly at the swollen head of Frankie's cock, thinking, 'I don't remembering it ever being that big'. It's dripping, throbbing, and fat. Frankie's absently stroking it and rubbing his nipples. "Hurry up, Oliver, what's the fucking problem." See, the old Frankie never talked to me like that. Just as he's about to grab the condom out of my hand I get the thing out of the plastic wrapper and unroll it onto Frankie's cock. It goes down two-thirds of the way; that boner of his looks dangerous. "Grab the top bureau drawer there and hold on, I'm gonna do you like that. You're gonna get it good, hard, and fast this time and I'll see how I feel about it afterwards; maybe I'll do you later too." Bending at the waist, then pulling the top drawer of that bureau out to get a good hold, a shiver of anticipation zigzags through me even as I'm disappointed in the way Frankie's acting. Frankie smacks my ass twice, then gets a firm hold on my hips and without hesitating he pushes that swollen cock head against my anus hard. My sphincter muscle holds out for a second, but Frankie's determined and that fat cock head slowly slides in past the lips of my anus and it's a very painful, burning feeling. I grimace, my head hanging between my arms, my anus on fire. Frankie grunts, "You weren't this tight last time I fucked ya, were you?" I can't talk with the pain or I'd explain that the reason I wasn't so tight last time was he did it little by little, loosening me up first. Frankie pushes that big thing all the way up inside me, muttering, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," with each inch of progress as his monster cock plows relentlessly inside my rectum stretching it painfully as it goes inside me. His fingers squeeze tightly on my hips pulling me back towards him hurt too. It's almost like he's mad at me or punishing me for something.
Once in, Frankie slowly drags his big cock all the way out. And I do mean all the way out. The swollen cock head makes a, "plop," sound slipping past my sphincter muscle as it pops out of my hole. I can't imagine why he'd pull all the way out, but before I can say anything his cock is at my ring putting pressure on it again and soon he's inside me doing it all over again, just like the first trip. Then he pulls all the way out with another, "plop,". I manage to grunt out, "What are you doing, Frankie?" He snaps back, "Shut up. This is how Toby does me; I'm teaching ya something new," and in it goes plowing up my rectum. Then, "plop," it's out of me again and right back at my entrance for a return engagement. After a half dozen times I have to admit I'm loosened up really well; it's one way to loosen a sphincter ring maybe, but it isn't the most painless method by a long shot. Frankie's satisfied my hole's flexible enough to suit him and he goes to town fucking me with long, tight strokes, pulling me into him as he thrust forward. It's damn hot now and I forget the rude beginning to enjoy being fucked hard as his fat hog plows my rectum roughly for two minutes with the steady, "Slap," "Slap," "Slap," sounds of his crotch smacking against my ass cheeks, plus our grunts of pleasure which fill his bedroom with, "ooh, aahh, ooh, mmmm, sounds. Unmistakable sounds of anal intercourse in progress. He stops with his boner fully impaling me, and goes, "Get your ass up, pussy," as he's spreading my legs so he'll now be driving his boner up into me instead of straight ahead. It feels even better this way. No doubt about it, Frankie has had gained experience, either from being fucked or from doing the fucking. In either case I'm really getting off on it by now; it's rough but hot. His boner's boring up my ass smoothly now creating scintillating sensations exploding inside me with my boner bobbing stiffly between my legs as he roughly continues thrusting his cock into me jostling my body with each hard penetration. I last maybe six minutes before I'm squealing with sexual pleasure while peeing cum. That's my climax, a long hard stream of cum instead of spurts. Strange climax, and it's my second one in three hours so the amount of creamy pee/cum surprises me, but it feels awesome. With each of my squeals Frankie would say something like, "This what you were hoping for, Oliver?" or "Ya want it harder, do ya cunt?" or "You love this big cock in your pussy, don't ya, bitch?" I can't speak because it really does feel fantastic, but I need to ignore his crude, inappropriate comment; this is a new way to climax for me. The entire fuck is sexually arousing in many ways, but the verbal 'rap' he puts out during the fuck is not one of the positve parts for me.
If I felt I could let go of the drawer to stroke my cock I would have, but Frankie is being so rough I'd probably crack my head on the edge of that ancient walnut bureau if I let go. He fucks me for five minutes after my own climax, me moaning with pleasure the whole time and Frankie continuing his rap, "How you like my big cock, bitch?" and "You got the best pussy in town, cunt," and that sort of crude and rude stuff that's not like the Frankie I know at all. What's happened to him? Like I said, even with his crude talk this is still an awesome fuck and I hope it continues, but Frankie gasps shoving his cock in my ass so hard I almost loose my grip on the bureau. Holding his boner way up inside me he humps against my buttocks with whimpering sounds as he fills the condom with his spunk. It felt great the whole time and too bad he couldn't have held out longer. Lots of deep breathing noises from Frankie with each of his cum squirts. I miss out on that squishy, cumy feeling of his cum inside me, and while I wish I could have felt all Frankie's cum shoot up inside me, it wouldn't be very smart with him obviously being sexually active with at least this Toby character; not a safe thing to do at all. When his big balls are empty he presses his crotch hard against my ass cheeks and does a slow grind, moaning like a wounded animal, then he smacks my ass twice as he pulls out asking, out of breath, "How'd you like that, Oliver. You happy you came to visit me and my big cock?" He's talking in a breathy, good natured way, but still we're sort of back to that 'doing me a favor thing,' and what's with all the smacking my ass and the jive talk? I let it slide and instead concentrated on doing what I always seem to do with Frankie: tell him how hot he is and what a hot, sexy fuck he'd just put on my ass and all the one-way compliments I can think of. As always, Frankie accepts the compliments as his due without returning any to me. We clean up a little in a bathroom that could use a little cleaning itself. Frankie hands me a previously used washcloth, to put it nicely, and I scrub my hole to get the dripping lube off. The funky wash rag is kind of freaking me out, and then the toilet clogs-up with Frankie's cum-filled condom mixed in with the toilet paper we used to dry ourselves with. It's hard to believe Frankie lives in this squalor. He plunges the mess down the toilet using a big black plunger that's sitting there next to the sink, close to a row of three tooth brushes. Yuck!
Getting over my used washcloth freak-out, and wearing a smelly bathrobe of Frankie's, and him with a thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders, we journey down to the kitchen to share a beer and smoke a cigarette. Frankie's glowing and acting like a big shot; he's the stud and I'm his bitch. That sort of thing. He goes into a speech, "Bet you never been fucked that good before, Oliver. Toby does me just like that and our cocks are very close to the same size; not small like yours, so I know how good it feels when someone fucks you properly. Hey, wouldn't it be a blast to get Toby to join us some time? Maybe Christmas break. Oh man, he'll have you walking the walk and talking the talk. Toby don't take no shit from nobody. Haha, he'd spank your ass raw too the first time. Toby's one dominant motherfucker alright." There isn't much I can to say to that. Instead I try asking about Toby: what's he look like, how old is he, what kind of guy is he and things like that, but now Frankie doesn't want to talk about Toby anymore, and says, "Oh, he's just some kid I goof around with. Just thought it would be fun for you to have him do you like he does me. For christ sakes, I didn't expect the third degree about him." A bit later he gets excited again; this time telling me about these two cool freshman guys at college who he eats lunch with every day. Richie something and his boyfriend. Frankie says he wants a boyfriend who's just like Richie. He said he'd treat his boyfriend just like Richie gets treated by his hot, tough boyfriend. It sounds like that submissive/dominant thing that I like too, but my feelings are hurt that Frankie doesn't think I'd as good a boyfriend as this kid Richie is for his boyfriend. Wonder what I can do better? Frankie's enthralled with the relationship that those two lunch mates have together. I ask if he were sure they were gay boyfriends and Frankie says, "Of course they are, Oliver, aren't you paying attention." Then Frankie does give me sort of a compliment, "Tell ya something else too, that Richie kid really reminds me of you, Oliver." Then he goes into this thing about if I transfer to West Chester University I can be his 'Richie' and he'd, of course, be the tough kid in charge of me. I tell I'll think about it. Frankie's off in never-never land again.
Lighting another cigarette Frankie tells me he'll probably be doing me again a little later, but on my back this time; then he jumps up and insists I lay across the big arm of a huge sofa so he can see if the height is good. I wouldn't mind getting fucked again, but I'm hoping Frankie will let me have a go at fucking him. This Toby seems to be doing it regularly, but I guess I don't qualify. Laying across the sofa's arm like he wants me to, I'm thinking that Frankie's just bossy enough to intrigue me, but his newly acquired crudeness is a problem. "Yeah, this will work" he says, "You'll wrap your legs around my waist while I'm fucking you and I'll give ya one hell of a good fucking. I know how much you want that, right?" I mutter, "I guess," and he says, "Yeah, Oliver, as a special favor for you, this fuck is going to last a lot longer than the first one. Just remember what I said, absolutely no pulling your pud while I'm doing you. I do not allow that," and he smacks my ass through the smelly bathrobe. I'm thinking, 'Oh man, he's off the deep end again.' Frankie's cell phone rings from the kitchen table as I'm still laying across the arm of the sofa. As his phone continues ringing, he lifts my legs and the smelly bathrobe falls away from me, then Frankie smacks my bare ass three times, hard. In a happy voice, he says, " Just stay the fuck here for a minute while I get that. Ain't this fun?" and off he hustles to answer his cell phone. I slip off the sofa's arm and sit on that big sofa in the family room with my smacked ass stinging. I'm thinking, 'More smacks on my ass, damn they hurt, but I almost got a boner too.' Then my thought is, 'Could maybe Frankie's mom afford a slip cover for this filthy thing.' The sofa's covered with stains. It's so odd that Frankie keeps morphing into different personalities; it's disconcerting, and can't be good for his own mental health either. In the kitchen Frankie's raising his voice; what is it now? My cigarettes are in the kitchen so I get up and wander towards the kitchen. Just outside the kitchen doorway I hear Frankie say, "Please, Toby." Hmmmm, I really shouldn't be listening in on someone else's conversation, but I stand still and do just that. Frankie says, "You know I always do what you want, Toby, please don't be mad at me. I'll get there somehow. Hey, can you pick me up at the convenience store? I'll hitch a ride over there." Toby's talking and then Frankie, says, "How much will Fallon pay and who's the guy that'll be fucking me?" Then, "I don't think I know him. Is he that big black guy?"
My heart's pounding just hearing that name again, Fallon. Frankie's a call boy still? Daddy/Glen's mob contact straightened Fallon out months ago. Frankie says, "Yeah, no shit! I know for sure I can use the money, Toby. What the hell, as long as you're part of it, won't be too bad. Maybe you can give me a hard fucking when the black guy's done with me." Frankie listens for a minute, before saying, "I know you don't ever want to take it up the ass,Toby, you don't have to tell me every fucking day. I know that's my job." Then, "I love you too, man. See you in fifteen minutes." I get back real quick and I'm sitting on the edge of the sofa when Frankie hurries in. "Oh, ah, um, Oliver. That was my mother. I've got to go down and help them out where she works; gotta work tonight because, ah, somebody didn't show up at work or something. I won't be able to give you that second fuck after all, but I'll owe ya one. Hey! don't look so disappointed, you'll get it another time. Let's get dressed real fast, I gotta hurry." I wasn't looking disappointed about not getting fucked, I was looking disappointed because I am getting fucked again by Frankie; it's just another kind of fucking. We hustle upstairs and get dressed in silence. My boxers are stiff with my own dried cum from our make-out a couple hours ago, my ass is sore from Frankie's rough fuck a little while ago, and my ass cheeks still sting and burn from Franking spanking me. Why do I think this is hot? It's not when everything's considered. Mostly my feelings are hurt and I guess my heart is hurt too, but I don't want to say anything to Frankie at the moment. He isn't who I keep pretending he is, not even close. He said he needs me to drive him some place and he promises to call me, or email me, or something in a few days. "Could ya hurry, Oliver. For fuck sakes, this is important." And out the door on the run we go to hop in the car and take off with the tires squealing. It's only a ten minute drive to drop Frankie off. No kiss, no hug, no nothing 'cause I'm old news now, so all I hear is a quick, "Call me or something," and Frankie's gone in a flash. Driving away I'm thinking how screwed up our reunion was and then I get really lost trying to back-track and to the main highway, the tears don't help anything either. That lying bastard!
No music on the ride home. My entire experience with Frankie, from the first day on the job, has been a roller coaster ride. Today was no different; from the high of that surprise make-out when he greeted me; the one that ending with me spontaneously cuming in my pants, and that's the most luscious feeling. I really loved that, but then we go down deep into the pits with Frankie lying about; well, lying about everything and then he gets back to being his old self and we have that hot dance party together and the fun pubic shaving party. Frankie with his hot BO then gets a little bossy and fucks me a new asshole and we're way back up high at the top of the roller coaster again, only two minute later to drop like a fucking rock after that phone call from that kid Toby, and with Fallon involved in pimping out those two; those poor stupid fucked-up losers! Driving along, I come to the conclusion that it's time I give up my dream of Frankie and me being boyfriends. It's always been just a dream anyway, never realistic, but I still love him. I can't just turn it off, so I shed some more tears because love hurts. He's too fucked up and he's letting himself go badly. Pimping himself out for money when I got him free of Fallon once already. I should feel relief realizing that it's over between Frankie and me, and it is as over as over can get, but my heart is still broken and I feel pity for cute Frankie and his terrible life style. Maybe I knew it in the back of my mind long ago; knew it was never going to work out between Frankie and me. Frankie, of course, would be content to go on like this forever because in his distorted mind he isn't doing anything wrong. He probably thinks I am his best friend, who he loves. Only problem there, well there are two actually: One, he doesn't know the meaning of the word friend and two, ditto for the word love. Other than those two minor items, he's probably one hundred percent correct about us. He's always been narcissistic, but I refused to see that. Pulling over to a rest area I do some dry heaving, but no vomiting. Feeling beat up and stupid, I drive the rest of the way home without thinking about Frankie. Maybe I can get home in time to go with my parents to pick-up Christian at the airport.
Wiping my leaking eyes, not done crying yet, I admit to myself that I've been acting like a damn fool. Falling in love with Frankie the first day I met him, and then maintaining an image of him in my mind that's never matched in reality; I'd say that qualifies for acting the fool. In real life he's rarely matched the image I have of him in my head, he's always been unreliable and scatterbrained; I never knew which Frankie was going to show up from one day to the next. I wanted a fairytale romance with a boy who fit my fantasy of the perfect gay boy, appearance wise. Frankie came damn close to matching that, but except for his looks, which he seems hell bent on ruining by ignoring little things like personal hygiene and drinking shots and beers, he's about as far from perfect as a person can be and still stay out of jail. He's a liar too, telling the truth only when it's convenient, but his most dangerous trait is probably that he's self-destructive. Speaking of being self-destruction, I'm driving too fast, but I don't give much of a shit about that. My objective is to get home in time to go with mom and dad to the airport. I want to be there to greet my brother when he gets off the plane; Christian I can always depend on, which is the complete opposite of Frankie.
As it turns-out I get home in time to shower before we leave for the airport. It's a fairly long ride from our house to the airport in the first place, but listening to the music dad has on the radio makes the trip that much longer and I'm rethinking my decision to come with them after the first fifteen minutes. Dad never goes over the speed limit either, so cars are whizzing past us and I finally need to close my eyes and get control of my building frustration. I would have been there by now if I were driving. Hating on myself for criticizing dad's driving and choice of music, we finally get there; dad drives around looking for the perfect parking spot until I could scream, but we're finally out of the car and we meet Christian just as he walks into the baggage claim area. Kisses and hugs all the way around, then Christian keeps his arm around my shoulders as we stand in front of the carousal waiting for the luggage to arrive. He squeezes me into his side from time to time 'cause unlike Frankie, my brother knows what love is. I never feel as safe anywhere or with anybody as I do when I'm with Christian, and it's been that way as far back as my memory goes. He's always full of compliments, gifts, and praise for me too. It's exactly what I need to help me survive the travesty of the unhappy ending to my reunion with Frankie. After getting his luggage, and dad again driving painfully slow, we arrive back at the house safely. Later Christian takes us out to dinner. It's fun being with him, and getting my mind off Frankie for awhile. Christian knows how to handle every situation and it just makes it wicked relaxing for me. With mom and dad I often get the feeling they're not really sure what to do next, or how something is suppose to be done; they're always asking questions of strangers. No wonder I never had any self confidence myself. But, all that changes when Christian's around because he takes charge and I feel proud of the way people defer to him, saying, "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. My pleasure, Sir." Stuff like that. It makes me feel kind of important being with Christian. Lot's of talk during dinner because Christian's an interesting person and he keeps the conversation lively, saying funny things that sometime only he and I know are funny. He orders after-dinner drinks for him, mom, and dad as I eat a chocolate mousse. Back home again we all go to bed around ten o'clock. It's strange being in our little bedroom with my brother again. After washing up, peeing, and brushing my teeth I hop in bed with concern that Christian might want to do some brotherly buddy sex. After Christian does everything I did in the bathroom, he turns out the light, and says, "I sure could use some cuddles from my little brother." Christian can handle just about every other thing in the world except this brother sex thing. I say, "In my whole life I never expect to love anyone as fully as I love you Christian, but the brotherly sexy weekend we had together needs to be a cherished memory for us and nothing more. I hate to disappoint you, but I don't feel right about repeating it; once was wonderful because I love you, but I'm not in love with you so please understand, and please don't be mad at me." Then I sort of choked-up and can't go on because I think what I said hurt Christian's feelings.
We're both quiet for a few seconds; he apparently isn't going to say anything so to break the silence I tell him in one long breathless sentence how special our time together in Seattle had been, a very special loving brotherly time together I'll never forget, but I need him to be my big brother, and when we're doing our brotherly sex ,it seems at times that I'm the big brother and I can't handle that role "You need to be the big brother, Christian, always and forever. I've always needed you to be that person and I still do" Taking a deep breath now, waiting for him to say something and when he does starts talking he doesn't seem to be angry at all, "You probably think I have a glamorous life, Oliver. Rich and successful with all the boyfriends I want, or can buy. The truth is I'm lonely a lot, I work eighty hours a week and frankly don't have much of a social life. Daddy and I do our role-playing maybe twice a month and I pay for boys to keep me company once in a while, but I don't really like them although they pretend to like me because tips rock their world". He's very pensive, but very accepting of things too, "That weekend with you was the best weekend of my life. I was pretty sure you'd say no tonight, but nothing could stop me from asking. That being said, I totally respect your choice and maybe I'm even a little relieved. So, big brother it is from now on, Oliver. Hey, why do you need a big brother right now anyway? I can tell from the sound of your voice that you do; something's gone wrong in your life, and fairly recently too. What is it, Oliver?" He knows me so well; he's always known me better than mom and dad. Without hesitating I tell Christian about Frankie, starting way back to the beginning of last summer. After a few minutes he interrupts, "Wait a minute, Oliver. Are you telling me that you're actually living a full-blown, no pun intended, gay lifestyle? I thought you had a girlfriend and were living a 'straight' life style; that's the impression you left with me in Seattle." I tell him I'd purposely mislead him because I wasn't ready to discuss it last summer. "The truth is I've been gay from the first second I knew what sex is and I should have made that clear in Seattle, but wasn't brave enough to do it then". Christian says he can understand that, and goes, "So, what about the redhead?" The more I tell him about Frankie the more some of the other boys in my life slip into the conversation, strictly for comparison reasons. All of a sudden Christian stops me again. He sits up in bed and turns on our little bedside lamp. In the dim light he looks so handsome, as he asks, "Oliver, how many boys are you having sex with?" The tone of his voice warns me to back-up a little, so I lie, "Just three." That number just popped in my head.
He looked at me blankly, and asks, "Three, at the same time? You've mentioned Alexander, Bobby, Frankie, someone named, was it Spunky, and your roommate, whats-his-name. Which of those aren't you having sex with? Oh yeah, wait a minute, that kid from Penn on your senior class trip too, the one you first had sex with. So, which three out of those six aren't you going to bed with?" I start crying quietly. He asks again, "Who are your straight friends from that group, Oliver? They're not all gay are they?" Without a word, I turn over onto my stomach and put the pillow over my head and cry some more. Christian gets out of his bed to sit on the edge of mine and pat my shoulder, saying, "Okay, I'm sorry, Oliver. Shhhh, don't cry. Please talk to me; you're fine" He gets me to turn over and sit up a little so he can hug me with one arm around my shoulders while he says, "Really, it's okay to experiment with two or three guys. You're young and if you've experimented three times in the past six months, or however long it's been, that's not unheard of. I just got scared for a second there that you were jumping in bed with every guy you met, that's all. Actually, as soon as you said you were actively participating in gay sex I got scared for you; but jeez, two or three guys, that's not a big deal. Let's just say I'm jealous. I'm having a difficult time thinking of you fully engaged in the gay lifestyle, that's all." I mutter, "Why is it so odd that I'm gay, Christian? You are, and so are millions of others?" My tears have finally dried up along with my desire to mention any other gay boys I've had sex with during the past nine months. Christian quietly says, "I'm a little bit afraid for you, Oliver. I mean, look at yourself; you're a cute, desirable chicken out there living a gay life style, probably the most desirable boy any chickenhawk's ever seen. You're damn lucky you've only had three different sex partners." I protest that I'm skinny and not really all that cute, purposely not mentioning the boys who have told me I am. Then, to get off that topic, I ask, "And, what's a chicken anyway?" He explains about youthful, tight bodied gay boys who are sought after by certain types of gay men. As to why he felt I was lucky not to have attracted those types, Christian says, "Well, Oliver, it's like this: after your senior class trip you were different, you still had your cute face of course, but you were projecting a certain something that's more than just being cute. Your demeanor, your facial expression, your body language, your everything really, it was kind of like you were advertising, 'I want to please, lets be friends'. It's charming, but you're innocent and the fact you had a lonely, rough childhood makes you vulnerable. After that senior trip it's like you were determined to turn your high school experience completely around, and so you might have a tendency to go overboard with things and being sexually active you might find yourself getting in over your head."
This might be hitting too close to the truth, so I ask, "Um, what do you mean by 'going overboard', Christian?" He hugs my shoulders tighter and says, "Oh, I don't know, it's just that you began projecting a friendly little half smile all the time, and because you appear so innocence with your wide-eyed happy expression and that big grin you have for virtually anyone who acknowledges your existence; well, basically you might as well be walking around with a sign around your neck saying, 'I want to be liked and I'll do anything you want if you'll like me'." This gets me mad because I actually see what he means, but don't like the picture, so I shout, "Shut up, Christian!" He stops with his mouth half open. I say, "God damnit you, that is so unfair! It sounds like you're saying I'm a slut or a whore or something. You're just trying to hurt my feelings because I won't go to bed with you," and I start quietly crying again because I am like he described and it scares me. Christian has had to deal with so many of my crisis situations over the years, he knows what to do. First, soothing sounds and hugs or back rubs, and then he talks quietly, starting off with compliments, "Please Oliver, you know how I feel about you. There's no way I'd do anything to hurt you intentionally. You're very, very special. I'm worried, that's all; hell, it scared me when you said you were being openly gay. I mean at college, not with mom and dad. All this time I thought you were doing the straight routine, so ya know, when a gay boy or man made a move on you, which I knew was going to happen, I assumed you'd react in a negative way to that. You being straight and all, you'd be safe. A small rebuff is enough to deter the great majority of gay guys. Us gays expect ninety percent of guys we meet to be straight to start with. Now that you tell me you're gay, and sexually active, it's my big brother responsibility to warn you of possible dangers. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings at all."
My head's against his shoulder listening to him, it's like I love being babied by Christian and, God knows, he's had to do a lot of it, especially after Tyler's death. He continues quietly explaining that since I'm not in the closet now, and in fact I'm actively looking for gay partners, he's surprised I've only connected with two other gay guys since my senior trip. He emphasizes that my open faced look is an invitation to gays. Gay guys know each other's 'look' for the most part, and he reiterates that my 'look' is saying, 'Let's get together'. Hmmmm, so now I know part of the reason why so many gay guys come on to me. Good to know, but I'm not sure what to do with the information yet. Referencing Frankie, Christian talks about lost love and broken hearts and how it happens to everyone. He talks at length about Frankie's many problems and about how some people are hell-bent on fucking up their lives and no matter how much you want to help them, it's never enough. It's almost impossible to change a person's nature, especially as a nineteen year old when the person's had years to get to be the way they are. We change the subject discussing the probability of two brothers, five years apart, both being gay, and what to do about telling our parents. Then I describe a little about what I'm looking for in a boyfriend and I mention things like: a boy around my age who's thin, cute, with a nice smile, and so on. Christian's calmed me down by now and he doesn't seem as worried about his little brother going out in the big bad gay world as he was earlier. He says he likes that I'm interested in a peer boyfriend because that's best for me; older men might take advantage of me. It's going along great until I make the mistake of saying how hot I think it is for my sex partner to be the dominant figure in our relationship. He goes, "What? You're actively looking for a dominant sex partner? Are any of the three you've met so far dominant?" I'm immediately like, "No, no, no, nothing like that. I was half joking Christian, it's just fun to fantasize about different stuff, you know. Like you and Daddy-Glen and all. Nothing specific." Christian has a hand on each of my shoulders and turns me around to face him, "Listen to me Oliver. This is a very dangerous road you're traveling. You are going to attract a lot of gay admirers and some of them are going to be the dominant type and maybe even the predator type. You could find yourself walking behind one of these hypnotic, dominant types with a dog collar around your neck being led around naked on a leash." Angry again, I shrug my shoulders to twist out of his grip, saying, "Don't be ridiculous, Christian, no one is led around by a leash. Certainly not me"
When I said that thing about being led around on a leash, my dick twitched. I'd seen something like that on a porn site and thought it was kind of exciting; when done as role playing, I mean. Christian insists it happens more than I think. He, himself, was very much into the submissive role playing with Daddy, so he knows what he's talking about. "If you're submissive in sexual play you need to be very self confident in matters outside of sex and be mature enough to know your limitations, Oliver. If not, and I don't think you are yet, you can find yourself in trouble. Believe me, I know. You can't be a naive little gay boy in that world or you'll get eaten alive." He feels better about things when I tell him none of the three guys is dominant and that I'd be alert to that type from now on. Christian's serious, "This is no joke, Oliver. Glen told me what happened with your surprise visit in Seattle; Daddy thought you were the hired boy for the night so he was getting you ready for our games. He said it took him less then two minutes to have you totally under his control. You were docile and ready to have your head and body shaved, and whatever else Daddy wanted you to do. Am I right?" I tell him that's ridiculous, that I knew Daddy would find out who I was because I was just about to tell him. We discussed the dangers I could run into if I'm not careful, and we talked about it until I was exhausted with the subject. Finally Christian kissed me goodnight, on my forehead, and we shut it down for the night. There's a lot for me to think about here. The first thing is that Daddy/Glen did have me totally docile and ready to do his bidding, so I do need to watch out for that. I remember how it was so peaceful just giving in to Daddy, being totally under his control, peaceful and very exciting too. You know, wondering what was coming next; what did this dominant figure intend doing with me? Hard to explain the feeling to guys who aren't submissive. The fact that I immediately started getting a boner thinking about being captured by Daddy was a further warning for me to be very careful. Alexander is someone who is getting into more of that dominant role lately, which just may be why I like those Delaware trips so much. Of course, with Alexander it isn't role playing, but I have confidence that if I say 'stop,' he will. I feel physically safe with Alexander even though on my dates with him I do end up with some goofy haircuts and in some strange situations, wearing odd outfits and stuff like that, but it's fun. Also, all that other general stuff Christian discussed is helpful and needs to be thought about more deeply. It seems, without realizing it, I'm sort of advertising for gay playmates. And apparently other gays can pick-up that signal fairly easily. Maybe I'm picking up their signals without knowing it too, and maybe that combination of factors goes a long way to explaining why I come in contact with so many gay boys. I come in contact with lots and lots of kids now anyway, from the hoards at Wildwood, to the inflated numbers of young males at last summer's part-time job, to the hundreds at Penn that I see everyday. The great majority are straight of course, but I'm not connecting with many of those; I'm connecting with the much smaller group who are gay. Being completely honest with myself, I need to admit there are dominant types among the gays I've had sex with, other than just Alexander I mean. Randy for sure, and that Aaron kid the other night at the hoagie shop is dominant for sure; even though I haven't had sex with him, I know I'd like too. Alexander didn't start out being dominant, but he's grown into it. Others too, I think; maybe Myers and I noticed Frankie getting like that earlier today. I'm somehow unintentionally advertising I want to be dominated. Who else is bering dominant, or at least has shown a tendency to be like that? Well, I'll give it some more thought tomorrow, too tired now. Naturally I'm not going to worry Christian about all this. It's something for me to be aware of, and for now that's enough.
Next day is a typical Thanksgiving with my family; we watch football, greet our Aunt, Uncle, and two girl cousins, age 12 and 13 who are totally obnoxious, and our Grandmother, who's not obnoxious. The woman all help put together the Thanksgiving dinner and the men drink alcoholic beverages and watch the football games. Christian is very social with everyone and it's well known in the family that Christian is super successful and wicked rich so they treat him deferentially. Me they treat like I'm still a kid which I guess I am for the most part. I'm drinking vodka and grapefruit juice thanks to Christian convincing my dad I'm old enough, as long as I'm not driving later. A couple of cigarettes in the back yard with Uncle Carl and Christian. We're the only smokers and I get a pass from my parents on the smoking because, for some crazy reason, they think a college kid should try everything once, even cigarettes; or some logic like that. Frankie got me started on the Marlboro Lights and now I'm hooked, but I don't want to think about him because it hurts, to be honest. I'm working on convincing myself I don't love him, but my feelings of love for him ain't going away easily. Thanksgiving day isn't a hell of a lot of fun mostly because I spend a great deal of the day answering questions. That's what people do when they don't know you well enough to have a conversation; they ask about your private life. That night I go to bed before Christian without any kind of serious conversation about last night's topic, and I'm glad of that because I still have a lot to think about from our first night's talk. Christian needs to get right back to work so a limo takes him to the airport early Friday morning. Both my folks are back at work on Friday too. While still in bed, I'd given Christian a brotherly kiss goodbye and we'll see each other soon during the Christmas holidays. The next time I wake up it's noon. I find two one-hundred dollar bills under my pillow. I guess Christian put them there when we kissed goodbye. Two hundred bucks, sweet!!
Tomorrow I'll see sexy Myers and I really want to fuck him like I did the last time I saw him; that might be just what I need. Most of Friday is spent mauling over how it all went wrong with Frankie; can't get it off my mind. There's a element of relief too; relief I'm finally getting over the idea that I'm in love with him. I probably have never been in love with him; perhaps I was more in love with the idea of being in love with Frankie than actually being in love with him. Not sure if that makes any sense, but it's what I'm telling myself at the moment. It's not a happy place for me right now because Frankie leaves a big hole in the picture I had of myself. Guess I'm not in love with anyone now and probably never have been. Well, except that puppy love I had for Tyler; that was real. I watch a movie on cable and then drive around the neighborhood before taking my Mini through the car wash, just killing time. Checking my emails and answering the ones from the Twins, and one funny one from Bobby who ends it with, 'Love Bobby,' so he don't know what love is anymore than I do. Nothing from Joey, but he told me his family is spending Thanksgiving with his grandparents, so maybe they don't even have a PC. I'll see him in a few days and I'm looking forward to that. Guess Joey never even got that mushy email I sent him a few days ago. He'll get it eventually. After a dinner at home, mom and dad ask me to help them pick-out a new high definition TV for their bedroom. That's going to be their main Christmas present to each other. See what I mean about my parents not being self confident; they need their nineteen year old son to go with them to the mall picking out a TV. It drags on and drags on until almost mall closing time, but they finally decide on the one they want. It's after ten o'clock by the time we get back to the house. I don't want to hang around at home so I tell the folks I'm yearning for a cheesesteak from The Townline Hoagie shop. Off I go, smoking and wondering if Aaron's there.
As usual it's crowded at The Townline, and yes, Aaron's serving tonight. Damn, I feel a little nervous, and it's weird I'm stalking him; it's also like I'm playing with fire. Telling myself he's interesting, that's all. Waiting until a seat is vacant at the counter, I saunter over, my heart beating a bit fast as I sit down with a jittery feeing in the pit my stomach. Almost immediately he's there in front of me, all business, "What are you going to have?" I come out with, "Hey, Aaron. Wha's up?" He says, "We're real busy tonight, what's it going to be?" I order the cheesesteak and a cherry coke, not feeling nervous anymore. He didn't even act like he remembered me. That's okay, it's just a week ago that we meant, he remembers me. Feeling reckless and a little horny too, five minutes later as he's putting down the plastic basket with my cheesesteak in it, I pretend to reach for it, but purposely get hold of his hand instead and squeeze it lightly. His skin's so smooth and tight. He looks at me and asks as plain as day, "Are you coming on to me now, Oliver? You're suppose to tell me if you are, remember?" Gulping I pull my hand away so quickly the basket and cheesestate tumbles over. Aaron doesn't give a shit about anything! There are people on both sides of me, they had to have heard him. Aaron, in a smart-ass way, adds, "Do you want me to get you another cheesesteak, or is this one okay?" He picks up the basket, the wax paper, and the sandwich, which looks fine. I wheeze out, "This is fine, thank you," and away he goes. Taking a deep breath, I look straight ahead. My hands are a little shaky, but as usual the cheesesteak's delicious and I calm down by the time I finish eating it. Aaron looks as hot tonight as he did last Saturday night. Actually he looks hotter because he's had a haircut, probably his mother nagged him to get one for Thanksgiving. It's the same style as before, moused clumps sticking up on top, but now the hair's only half as long and not over his ears or collar. He looks younger, neater, and cuter too. Maybe I have a thing for Japanese boys now; if they're all like Aaron, oh man! After finishing my sandwich I want to wait for Aaron to reappear, but can't drag out my stay in this seat because other guys are mumbling about getting seats at the counter, so I leave money on the check and am almost out the door when there he is. Aaron walks quickly down my side of the counter wearing a fleece pull over in deference to the outside weather conditions. He says, "Same spot, Oliver." I follow him outside taking out my pack of smokes as I walk. A feeling of excited anticipation comes over me, and once more I have a nervous feeling in the pit my stomach.
Aaron's near the kitchen door, like last time, and like last time he's pointing at the spot he wants me to stand in. It's weird, but so cool of him too. It's fun and sexy playing along, so I stand up real straight exactly where he pointed to with my hands at my sides. He points at my hand holding the pack of cigarettes, and says, "Your turn to share." I offer my open box of Marlboro Lights, he takes one and lights it. When I start to get one out, he holds up his hand to stop me. With smoke streaming out of his mouth, he asks, "Were you coming on to me by grabbing my hand?" With a little grin, I nod my head slightly, and mumbled, "I guess." He stares in my eyes until I look down, and damn, why do I always look away from his stare. Taking another drag, he does that thing with his finger, like last time; the thing where he rubs the pad of his finger against my teeth, this time under my upper lip. He says, "Open," and when I do he puts two fingers in my mouth, "Suck my fingers," and I do that while feeling myself getting close to one of those trance-like states I can get in; my dick stirring in my pants. Aaron looks me in the eyes again, with the same result, I look down and this time I move my whole head down a little bit, still sucking on his fingers. Somehow it seems right to act subservient to him. Five seconds later he takes his fingers from my mouth and pushed them against my upper lip, turning it out, and flicks his fingers up the front of my nose soaking my nostrils with saliva from his two spit-soaked fingers. While demonstrating his dominance with that finger activity, he continues casually smoking my Marlboro Light, wiping his wet fingers on my sweatshirt and ordering me to put my cigarettes away, brazenly telling me I won't be having one for a while. I slip then in the front pocket of my jeans, still looking down. He sounds exasperated when he says, "Okay, what the hell. Come with me, Oliver. It'll have to be kinda quick though," and he hooks his index finger in the neck of my sweatshirt and half pulls, half leads me around back. Pointing at a door at the very back of the building he tells me it connects to the hoagie shop's dry goods supply room. "We're going inside there Oliver and you're going to do exactly what I tell you to do or you'll get a bare ass spanking, which you'd probably enjoy." Squeezing my chin between his thumb and index finger, he lifts my head, adding, "Okay, Oliver?" I nod at him dumbly, not really getting it at all. Aaron explains that on the other side of the supply room's back wall are the hot grills for the kitchen and they keep the room very warm.
Unlocking the door, he says, "Oh yeah, there are two large and noisy exhaust fans for the grills inside the supply room behind a wall made of quarter inch of plywood, so it's wicked loud in there. This place is far from ideal, but we'll have to make do. It's for sure we won't be able to hear each inside." He unlocks the door and pulls me in. It's about eighty degrees and, like he said, very loud; sort of a hollow bonging noise in my ears. I'm not at all sure what Aaron exactly has in mind, but I'm hoping for a make-out at least; the thought of kissing those lips makes my dick move in my pants. It's impossible to explain to someone without a submissive nature what a turn-on it is to be dominated by a sexy boy, especially one that's two years younger and who's shorter than you; don't ask me why, it just is. He leads me over to a heavy wood shelving unit and indicates I should put my arms under the second shelf and around a two by four inch wood support. I need to bend over at my waist to do that, and when he clasps his hands together, I do that too. He takes a thin counter wipe from a stack of them on a higher shelf and with a few flips has my wrists tied together on the other side of the post. I go, "Hey, what...," but I can't even hear myself say it. Pulling on the clothe only tightens the knot on my wrists, some type of slip knot. Looking behind me Aaron already had pulled off his fleece top, the shirt under that, and is stepping out of his low cut Nikes. Pulling down his pleated kaiki slacks reveal that he doesn't wear underwear. He steps back into his sneakers, totally naked. No surprise that his body is slim, tight and smooth; as far as I'm concerned, it's a perfect body. The only possible imperfect aspect is his large cock; it has a curve upward. His nut sac is unusually large and low-hanging. Regular black pubic bush and a small patch of black hair under his arms, other than that his body is free of hair. Instead of wondering about my predicament, my mind is instead fixated on Aaron, just staring at him. Not paying attention to me at the moment he strokes his large member, getting it to grow and it stiffens significantly. Probably making out with me isn't what he has in mind; I'm gonna get fucked, fer sure. He comes over to me, undoes my jeans and pulls them and my boxer shorts down to my knees. My knees are slightly bent because the shelf isn't more that thirty inches off the floor, so my jeans bunched right there were my knees bend. He rubs my ass cheeks and fondles my cock and balls, and just that little bit of touching gets my dick stiffening up like his. I feel totally under Aaron's control, and the part about that I mainly concentrated on, is that he wants to control me, not someone else; I'm the one he's willing to do this with. That's how I see it and I'm very aroused by thinking he wants to do me. Aaron isn't hurrying, but he isn't wasting time either. He turns the bottom part of my sweatshirt and my Nike mock turtle inside-out and pulls it up my back so that half my back and my belly up to my chest is bare. Rubbing my bare body with both hands from my nipples down to my knees makes me tremble, and say, "Oh, that feels so good, Aaron," but nobody, including me, hears it as the noise from the exhaust fans thunders in the room, echoing in my ears.
Aaron glances over at the supplies on the shelves and grabs a plastic squeeze bottle marked, VEGETABLE OIL. He flicks off the little nozzle cap, squeezes four lines of the oil just above my buttocks and begins spreading it all over my lower back and then around on my belly and strokes my cock with his oily hand. My dick gets ridiculously hard and I'm reduced to taking short, fast breaths. I swear I can't ever remember being so squirmy with anticipation. No doubt Aaron's huge cock is going up my ass, even I can figure that out. I must admit that the way he's going about all this is so sexy it makes me feel faint, and the need for Aaron to be inside me has me going from one foot to the other whining a whine no one can hear. The squeeze bottles of vegetable oil are used by the cooks to grease the grill before putting on the shaved steak and onions for cheesesteaks. Aaron has another use for his. After squirting three more lines of oil, on my buttocks, Aaron puts the bottle down and uses both hands massaging that slippery stuff all over my ass, in my crack and all the way under to the back of my ball sac. My nuts are hard as walnut shells and contracted to just about that size too. Aaron feels them with his oily hands, squeezes them as I scream a scream no one hears; then he strokes my boner again and my shoulders shudder as shivers run around my groin and I gasp in pleasure, with the strong need to feel my cum speeding up from my walnut sized nuts to fly out of my pipe-hard cock and get that indescribably delicious feeling around my crotch from my orgasm. I can hardly wait for Aaron to do me. My legs are shaky, my hole quivers and itches as the oil on my body drools over me with my body heat diluting it and making it runny. It doesn't matter to me that the room's too hot and too loud because now I can't speak anyway. Every dominant move Aaron makes causes me to gasp for my next breath trying to inhale enough air to just keep from passing out. Pulling on my bonds without thinking, I further tighten the material around my wrists as Aaron methodically goes about his business squeezing three more lines of vegetable oil on my groin and really massaging it into my shaved pubes and then fists my nut sac and hard cock again, this time pulling up with both members enclosed in his hand and when my nut sac drops back he continues up to the head of my cock and strokes it with that ridiculously oily hand. I'm blowing spit out onto the napkin refills on the shelf in front of me, grunting and saying, "Stroke it again, stroke it again," but neither of us hears the words as those exhaust fans roar in our ears.
Not more than five minutes had elapsed since coming in here, but it seems much longer to me and my sexual appetite is as high as it's ever been. The hell with Delaware, this is twice as hot in every way I can think of. Aaron pushes just the tip of his finger in my hole and pulls up on it some, then put his lips right against my ear and shouts, "I want your pussy up in the air. Get it up in the air and push it out," and he follows those orders with a slap on my ass leaving it stinging and quivering, but the noise of the slap on my oily ass cheek isn't heard. Wanting desperately to please him, I do the best I can by getting my pussy, er, my ass up higher and push it out as much as I can, as Aaron yells, with his lips wetting my ear this time, "Good. Keep it just like that," and he pushes the nozzle of the squeeze bottle in my asshole and squeezes a lot of vegetable oil up my ass; so much that a lot rolls out and runs down both my legs. My body has further warmed all the oil he'd spread on me earlier and it's running down from my back, ass, and belly to soak into my boxers and jeans that are bunched around my knees. I don't care about anything except how sexually hot he's got me. He smears some of the oil that drained out of my asshole around my buttocks and then pushes the squeeze bottle inside my anus again and empties the plastic bottle up inside me, then throws it into a trash bin; vegetable oil covers me from my nipples to my bunched-up underwear and jeans at my knees, and from way up my back down to the back of my knees with my asshole drooling with the slippery substance. Looking over my shoulder I see Aaron's back is to me as he's stroking his big cock, so I relax my posture some. It's hard keeping my ass pushed up and back like Aaron wants it, and I'm sweating like mad in this hot room with the effort of doing that. Ten seconds later, while thinking how much that monster cock is going to hurt going in me, I again don't hear them, but I sure feel the hard stinging smacks on my ass and see the beads of vegetable oil that fly off my buttocks from Aaron's spanking me; now both ass cheeks sting like bumblebee stings, quivering with raised goose bumps. Some of the oil beads from the smacks reach the back of my neck. He's spanking me with his wet oily hand, directly on my wet oily ass cheeks and it hurts. If we could hear the spanking it would sound like, "Splat, splat, splat, splat, splat ,splat!" real fast, and all against my bare ass with his open hand bringing tears to my eyes as I scream, "Stop! I'm sorry," pushing my ass back and up for all I'm worth; not that Aaron heard my pleas for mercy.
After half a dozen smacks get tears running down my face, a terrible memory of the wrestler Phil spanking me like this flashes across my brain; he spanked me because I'd fucked up his laundry. Odd that when Phil did it I concentrated on dealing with the pain and Phil got a boner, but now that it's Aaron spanking me I try ignoring the pain and get a harder and harder boner myself. Soon I'm groaning with the pain of my cock's skin stretched beyond reason, my boner is so hard and big it threatens to split the skin; my ass stings badly, but is secondary to my aching boner; aching so good I mean. Aaron puts his lips against my ear again and sternly yells for me to keep my pussy where I was told to keep it. I'd already got my ass up and pushed back where he wants it, as he shouts in my ear, "You love this don't you? Don't you?" demanding an answer from me. I can't believe it myself, but I nod my head up and down like a fool. He turns my head with his hands to look at him, getting oil on my face, and I read his lips this time; I think he said something like, "You're going to be fine, and you're awful cute," but I'm not positive about that last part although I sure hope that's what he said. Then he leans down to my level and with the side of my face turned toward him, he drooled a big wad of spit in my ear and pokes it in with his little finger. It clogs up my hearing even more. He pushes his little finger in my mouth and I sucked it clean of his spit, using my spit. Then, with oil covered hands he arranges my hair the way he wants it, and mouths, "Cute do". My head hangs between my arms after that because I'm so limp the only bone in my body seems to be my boner, so under Aaron's complete control, so docile for him it's scary. In my mind I pretend I belonged to Aaron, and it's so fucking hot!
Behind me now, he grabs my hips and pulls me onto his huge boner. Tough going pushing in the swollen head of his big cock, but in it goes with me screaming into the noise of the exhaust fans again as even more sweat breaks out on my face. Aaron steadily pushed his fat, curvy shaped boner way up inside me. I think, 'No condom,' and right away that thought is replaced with 'Aaron's cock is bigger than Frankie, but still not as big as Pete's'. Aaron gets it all up inside me, my hole stretched to a painful degree trying to accommodate it. Especially painful when the swollen head popped in, that process really burned and hurt really bad for the first minute or so. Seemingly unconcerned about my pain, Aaron never slows up for a second while pushing his large boner inside me, and he immediately begins fucking me steadily. That big fat cock plows up my ass and my rectum has no choice but to expand accommodating Aaron's relentless humping. It accommodates with resistants at first, but the thrusts get easier after a bit; in and out, in and out, in and out. That big curved cock plowing so far up inside me I felt it was at my throat and within minutes it quickly becomes the most erotic fucking I'd ever experienced and I'm squealing with every penetration, humping back into his groin trying to get it deeper into me. I have no idea if he's enjoying this or if he's making moaning sounds or, for that matter, if he's screaming out curse words; the exhaust fans are just too loud to hear anything but them. Not being able to hear is good in one way because Aaron can't hear me squealing like a piglet, my mouth wide open, squealing as loudly as I can, pulling against the clothe that binds my wrists. This isn't an out of control or hurried fucking like Bobby's in his mom's shitbox car, this is simply a quick and steady pace for the pleasure of Aaron. When Aaron, fifteen minutes ago dragged me back here by my collar, he'd told me he was only on a short break so we'd have to make it fast. I didn't know what he meant by that at the time, but I know now. It took him less then ten minutes to tie my hands, get us undressed, oil my body and spank me. Now, a few minutes into the fuck and I'm feeling hot and sexy and so good, my ass is aching but my cock is harder than it's ever been, poking straight out from my shaved groin like a steel spike. It began dripping when Aaron began lubing my body with the vegetable oil and it never stopped after that. I felt as though I'm going to climax from just being spanked by Aaron, and when he entered me, even though the hurt was bad, I still thought I was going to shoot my load any second; that's the amount of sexual excitement Aaron brought on me. His fucking is sexually stimulating every sensor in my ass, balls, and cock; his cock in my ass has ignited electric buzzing sensations all over my body every second of this fuck, and I'm so aroused by everything he's done I'm struggling to hold off climaxing, but in less then five minutes of ecstasy I'm literally screaming, my mouth as wide open as it can get, as my orgasm comes up from my nuts, tantalizing my cock with a highly pressurized thin stream of cum pouring out of my boner and nothing has ever felt like that. It's almost painful and the first stream of cum is followed by four pressurized hard thin streams of cum that spatter on items in front of me on the shelf. In my ear I sound like a girl squealing and there's echoes of my girlie squeals in the ear Aaron's spit in. The dominance of Aaron, tying my hands, the vegetable oil, the oily body massage, and especially Aaron's huge cock all combine to create a new sexual experience for me, one I'll do anything to repeat. A taste of the forbidden fruit, being sexually submissive could easily be addictive to me; my brother's right about that.
My body's still sizzling from the enormous climax Aaron fucked out of me, my stiff cock bounces between my legs, and my rectum throbbing as Aaron continues driving his huge, hard curved organ up my ass. His thrusts are coming faster and wilder now so his climax is probably announcing itself to his brain and even a boy as cool as Aaron looses his cool at orgasm. Climaxing's a powerful thing; an awesome reward from the gods for enduring the trials of living. Two minutes after my climax, Aaron slams into my buttocks, leans over me gripping my shoulders, holding me immobile and I actually feel the pulsating stream of his cum shoot deep up in my bowels and it gives me shivers all around my groin, as he humps again with his big nuts sending more sunk up my ass. If we could hear in this room, I'd love to have heard his moans of pleasure at climax. Then the realization our time together is almost over brings me down a little; I'd be happy to accommodate two or three more fucks from Aaron; tonight, I mean. What other things could we do together, what other ways could he dominant me; that's the sexiest part. Lots of gay boys can fuck me, but how many can do it in the dominant manner Aaron can do it? Although Aaron shot a lot of cum up inside me, some of which I'd actually felt hit deep inside me, I can't get over how weird it is to get fucked to a huge climax without hearing my dominant boy's reactions. But, so loud is the thundering of those restaurant exhaust fans, that it's almost like dead silence in here, or maybe it's like Aaron and me are deaf. As I stare at a gallon jar of sliced hot cherry peppers, watching my big gob of cum drool down the side, I'm hoping Aaron enjoyed fucking me and will want to do it again. That last hard thrust by Aaron, just before he filled me up with his cum, lifted me off my feet for two seconds; now he's grinding against my buttocks, savoring his sexual high. Then, within thirty seconds of his climax, he pulls out of my ass leaving my hole gaping open and his cum running out of my ass and down the back of my legs. Quite a lot of his cum, along with more vegetable oil and some of my ass juices and sweat, drool out of my ass to run down my thighs and soak into my pants, joining the earlier oil.
My chest's still heaving and I'd really enjoy stroking my dick after that great climax if my hands weren't tied. I try tightening my groin like I do when climaxing, trying to increase a tiny bit that wonderful feeling that's still buzzing around my cock and balls. Looking back at Aaron from my bent over position I see him wiping his crotch with those thin, cotton counter rags and then he wipes his semi-hard cock. He puts his clothes on, then pulls my oily, cum saturated boxers up and smacks my ass getting my shorts to plaster against my buttocks in the wetness of Aaron's cum and vegetable oil. He reaches around to mold my shorts against my semi-stiff cock and then pulls my sweatshirt and undershirt down to my waist, plastering then against the oil he'd rubbed on my body earlier. Lastly, he pulls my jeans up, snaps them and pats all over my ass getting the jeans sticking against me too. Everything on me is pretty much soaked with sweat, cum, and vegetable oil. There's a loose end to the rag around my wrists that he gives one sharp tug to, and the slip knot comes undone with the rag falling to the floor, landing in my cum drippings that followed my great climax, and I'm free. Aaron hooks two fingers in my collar again and pulls me roughly outside. My asshole's hurting now, so I try shuffling with short steps, but he yanks on my collar and I stumble after him. It makes me think about the doggie collar and leash thing Christian mentioned Wednesday night. Outside, away from the deafening noise of the exhaust fans, the quiet of the night roars in our ears. Little by little I begin hearing distant, distinct sounds like a far away laugh, or car horn and traffic noises. Aaron pushes on my chest to back me against a waist high fence separating the walk way from the parking lot. I look at him with my eyes open wide as if I'm amazed about something, and maybe I am at that. He has a neutral expression on his cute face and I desperately want to kiss him, or thank him, or please him. Taking a chance of making a fool of myself, I ask, "Was I okay for you, Aaron?" He ignores that, and says, "Tomorrow night, right here. You need to get here no later then eleven forty-five. I'll be coming from the inside of that room I just fucked you in. You wait for me out here. And, oh yeah, shave down around your cock and balls before tomorrow night, it's beginning to feel like sandpaper around that little cock of yours." I look at him, not really believing my ears. "You mean tomorrow night, Aaron? I have a date." He tells me to work it out anyway I want, but to be here. Then he says, "Move your head back a little," and he leans in to me for what I thing will be a kiss. It isn't though as Aaron's great tongue licks from under my chin, up and over it, across my lips, and up the front of my nose. He'd worked up a lot of saliva making me think fleetingly of Frankie. He goes, "Sniff in!" and when I do a lot of his saliva goes up my sinuses making me cough, then sneeze. I'll be smelling Aaron's spit from up my sinuses all the way home. He puts his hand on the back of my neck and squeezes too hard before rubbing the hickey Frankie gave me Wednesday, saying, "Absolutely no more hickeys, Oliver. I can't stand hickeys. Ya got that?" I squirm because he's squeezing the back of my neck too hard, gasping, I mumble, "Yes, Aaron." Using his hold at the back of my neck he pushes me roughly towards the parking lot. Stumbling a few steps forward, hurting my asshole, I grimace, but don't complain. Looking back to see what he wants me to do now, he says, "Be here on time tomorrow. Drive slowly, you're a little overwhelmed right now." I nod, and Aaron adds, "You were more than okay, Oliver," as he walks away taking his cell phone from his pocket, and lighting a cigarette at the same time. I've been dismissed with my orders, so I watch him walk around the side of the building, then shuffle to my car down near the back of the parking lot. Smelling Aaron in my sinuses, I think, 'He said I did better than okay'. Saying that to myself over and over, I take small shuffling steps back to my car, conscience of the pain in my rectum, but not caring. Before sitting down, I take off my sweatshirt to put on the seat because it's soft for one thing, and for another thing I don't want to get the leather seat stained with Aaron's cum, and the vegetable oil. It hurts to sit down in spite of the sweatshirt and it's squishy as a lot of Aaron's cum has leaked out of me and onto my boxers by now.
My hands are shaky as I start up the car, revving the engine and shivering while waiting for some heat to pour from the heater. Still shivering when heat floods out, I'm groping myself thinking that I've never experienced anything as hot as Aaron. He's smaller and younger than me, but he's the best dominant personality I've ever had sex with. Yeah, I know what Christian said about the dangers inherent in being totally submissive to a dominant sex partner, but Aaron's a good guy, not some kind of predator. Oh my God, that was so hot. I drive slowly home, like Aaron told me to do. During the ride I revisit every step Aaron put me through in our fifteen minutes of ecstasy; ecstasy for me anyway. I was totally under Aaron's control in that supply room. My hands tied and I couldn't have gotten loose if I wanted to, and screaming couldn't be heard so he had me under his control for real. What a rush to have no choice but to wait for what comes next; we weren't role playing, it was real and I've never felt such an erotic turn-on, such a sexual high or climax like I experienced during that adventure with Aaron. And, oh my God, Aaron himself is unbelievably hot. His confidence, the manner he handles himself, and his looks! He never had a doubt I'd do exactly what he told me to do. Alexander has some of that, but Aaron is the one hundred percent real deal. By the time I've driven the short distance home I'm really sexually worked-up again. Just going over that supply room fuck has me so hot all over it's stupid. The thought of driving back and waiting for Aaron to get off work enters my mind, but he might get pissed-off at me if I did that. Instead I shuffle from my car, taking small steps in deference to my sore ass, and quietly go inside the dark house and up the squeaking stairs to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I'm breathing fast and groping myself, thinking about Aaron. Into my little bathroom I go and peel down my wet boxers and jeans to my knees pulling up my sweatshirt, like he'd had them; then, bending over to grip my sink with one hand and stick my pussy out and up like Aaron wanted it, I jerk off with my eyes tightly closed thinking about Aaron big cock up inside me, and about my hands tied together around that two by four support. I don't last even as long as I did in the supply room. Cum splatters against the front of the sink. Gasping for air and whining with the thrill of it all, I pull on my cock till the head is sore, suddenly realizing I'm finally satisfied. Opening my eyes, breathing deeply now, looking in the mirror above the sink at my pathetic reflection. Sweat on my forehead, my face contorted from the climax, my ugly hair in clumps like Aaron's, my soft dick in my hand, and the absurd position I'd got myself in. My asshole hurts and now so does my dick, and I'm sticky with vegetable oil from my chest down to the tops of my feet, and from the middle of my back down to my heels; vegetable oil shines on my body. Aaron drenched me in oil because he could, no other reason. When my pants are pulled up I realize something else: my ass cheeks still stings from the spanking Aaron laid on me.
Now I'm thinking, 'What the fuck's wrong with me?' Pulling my pants down again, twisting around to see the reflection of my ass in the mirror and both my buttocks are still bright red from the spanking, and shiny with vegetable oil. The head of my cock is dark red because I'd squeezed it too tightly and stroked it too hard, and I feel like a piece of shit. Then I actually need to take a shit. Aaron was so far up my bowels it's brought on the need to take a crap. It hurts passing a stool and wiping myself really hurts too. In a daze I wrap up all my oily and cum stained clothes in a towel and stuff them in my satchel to be washed at school. I don't want mom to ask how my clothes got saturated in vegetable oil and sperm; that might be a tad embarrassing. Moving in slow motion now, trying not to think about anything, I get in the shower and scrub the oil and cum off my body and out of my hair. Drying myself I notice my cum splat on the sink and wipe it clean with the towel. Naked, I'm looking in my chest of drawers for pajamas to sleep in, and I never sleep in pajamas, but feel like wearing them tonight. Finding a pair I've had since eighth grade, I put them on; maybe because I'm feeling like a little boy after the way Aaron dominated me. My wrist and ankles stick out the sleeves and legs of my small pajamas. Tears are running silently down my face as I get in bed thinking, 'I've got a problem, and I need help'. After crying like a little kid for awhile, I try to analyze my situation, which is: I'm sexually out of control. I'm a nymphomaniac and that's not good; that's humiliating and embarrassing even to admit to myself, but it's basically true. Especially when there's a cute, dominant boy involved. And, I have absolutely zero will power. It's impossible be too hard on myself when evaluating my sexual behavior because it's obvious when looked at objectively; I seek out boys who will fuck me or let me suck them off, or if they prefer, I'll fuck them. When did I ever turn down a sexual advance? Well, I ask myself, when did you? I guess I did with Anthony last Friday night after he cut my hair, but I can't think of another one. Oh yeah, when I was sixteen in that rest stop and a forty year old man tried to proposition me; I ran from him, but every other time I've had the chance for gay sex I embraced it. What to do about it though? That's the big question; what the fuck should I do. First, call up and cancel my date with Pattie; not because of her, because of Myers. Obviously I've had my last hoagie at the Townline for the foreseeable future. Who can help me? Nobody, that's who. Certainly not Christian after all the lies I've told him about my sex life. Forget mom and dad. The only guys I know are the ones I've had sex with. I'm seriously screwed and that's an ironic choice of words; I'm screwed because I get fucked too much. Then it's obvious, like a dark blanket lifts off my head and I can see a bright blue sun-shiny day: Joey Gallo will save me. I've been taking care of him for three months, now he can take care of me. He's got the cast off his arms and leg, and he's said he loves me. We're roommates, with the same courses, so we can be together almost all the time; he'll keep an eye on me. I'll confess all to Joey because it's vital I be totally honest with him. It's important I admit to myself I need help, and I've just done that. It's equally important I come totally clean with Joey so he can appreciate how seriously I need his help, and the most important part is that Joey's gotta save me from myself. I don't know about love, I really don't, but I do know I have a chance with Joey; he and me working together is my best chance right now to start working towards a somewhat normal future.
Going over it in my head a dozen times, Joey's still my best hope. I'll have to be tested first to see if I've been infected, and then Joey and I can have exclusive sex together. And another thing: Joey even mentioned I might be surprised at how dominant he can be once he's free of his handicap. To make this work properly Joey will have to make me account for my time when we're apart. I'll learn to have self control because that's what this is all about, self control. I need to be answering to somebody and it'll be Joey who I'll explain my actions and get punished for missteps. There's going to have to be a lot more thought to all this; a lot of things worked-out, but it's a relief knowing I've got some plan at least. It all seems so clear to me now; how's that song go? I remember immediately Tyler and I singing it together in church; just the two of us. It's the most popular hymn in the English language, "Amazing Grace". People cry in church when we sang that song and so did Tyler, although I never knew why.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see
That's the line; was blind, but now I see. Damn, I remember singing that with Tyler many times and the applause we'd get with Tyler and me hugging as the people in the pews cheered, we were so young and innocent and I loved him so much. Now Tyler's sadly long gone and my innocence is long gone too, 'Was blind, but now I see'. That's me. I'm only nineteen and I've already had to acknowledge I have a serious sexual problem, but I'm also making plans for a solution to that problem, so I'm not totally 'lost' yet. I have hope and my hope is named, Joey Gallo. He's my amazing grace and I'm aware of the larger meaning of that phrase, but I leave that for others because I stopped believing when Tyler died. It's late when I drift off to sleep with my last thought being, 'I can't wait to start being mature, being responsible, and Joey will save me, I know he will.'
to be continued... Chapter 25 (backsliding)
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
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