Craigslist 22
WARNING
This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage where ever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional, the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.
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Chapter 22
Jason, Kenny, Ian and I have fallen into a regular routine that seems to be beneficial to all of us. Regular spankings certainly seem to have benefitted Ian, whose moodiness, especially after the bullying, has all but disappeared. We never knew which Ian we were going to see. Initially, I started spanking him once a week, but increased it to twice a week the more he pissed me off with his attitude. That seems to be the charm. He doesn't usually get much, typically six good strokes of the razor strop, enough to make him cry. Like Jason and Kenny, he seems to need to cry; it evens out his temperament. As a result, he's become more happy-go-lucky and less pensive, less introspective, which is a big problem for a teenager. The only severe punishment he's gotten was for a B in French, previously his best subject. Laziness. He got 15 with the razor strop and six to the asshole with the junior cane for that grade, an experience he absolutely hated, and will never forget. Everyone has their most hated punishment. Jason's is the razor strop in any flavor. Ian hates the cane to the asshole more than death. Good to know. We've been speaking French in the house since that day. Jason and I are fluent, and Ian is improving. It does piss Kenny off a bit, because his French is not that good, but Kenny is so sweet that I was having trouble making up excuses to punish him. The French thing is now my most frequent excuse for his spankings. Now he sobs in French. Very cute.
The other result of Ian's presence is that we have a lot more group sex. I blush to admit it, but I'm not as young as I once was, and these boys, especially Ian and Jason, are sexually...well...active. They like to get off multiple times a day. The two rules I'm not willing to change are the no masturbation rule, and the rule against cumming without permission (which is not given unless I'm involved in the...activity). Yeah...yeah...yeah. You may think this is draconian, but it's my house, and I'm the primary bread-winner. The boys understand, and whole-heartedly support the rules (though Ian, the youngest, has a wandering eye now and again. Kenny and Jason are strictly monogamous, strictly mine. Ian, I think, would like to get off any way he can, but loves the three of us so much that he's not willing to "cheat.") So, the question is how to get them off as often as they need to without changing the rules. Do the math. If Jason wants to cum twice a say, and Ian needs to cum three times, and Kenny wants to cum once, and I'm involved in all of those separately, that's six orgasms for me a day. I'm good, but not that good. Group sex seemed the only answer. Kenny is versatile in terms of fucking; Jason and Ian are not. But, obviously, fucking is not the only thing we do, and I'm willing to help them get off without reaching orgasm myself each time. Jesus. More than willing. So, much of the time we have sex together. A mini-Santa-Cruz we call it. Ian has no idea what that means, but Jason and Kenny do. The only one to object to this is Jason, who wants me all to himself, and so I'm very well fed – mostly three times a day with one or more of the boys. They're all simply adorable, so what's the big deal? They don't much care, and about once a week I get fucked myself because Kenny's in the mood. What could be better?
On Thursday, Ian brings home a little friend. "Little" is a diminution in all senses of the word except size. He's not diminutive at all. He's taller than me, and hunky-chunkier. He is drop-dead-gorgeous. I should probably explain my current esthetic. My ideal of beauty is currently Jason, with Kenny as a close second. But, I'm not a rice queen (a gay guy who only dates Asian males). I've dated nearly everyone. It's the quality of their skin that attracts me, their personalities, their face and build, and their very full, kissable lips. Well, their bubble butts help, too. Alejandro, Ian's friend, is not Asian. He was born in Mexico, apparently, to Mexican parents who later emigrated to the US – legally, by the way. He is one of the most beautiful boys I've ever seen, right up there with Jason and Kenny, though larger than I like them. He's bronze, like them, with sultry eyes, very full lips, and an amazing ass. Like Jason and Kenny, he speaks with just the hint of an accent, and so when I'm introduced, I try Spanish, in which I'm fluent. He smiles broadly, and we chatter away, something that pisses off Ian, who doesn't speak Spanish at all. Jason and Kenny do, though, and they join in the conversation before we all switch to English, for Ian's sake. "You'll just have to learn the language, Gringo," Alejandro giggles, reaching over and tenderly kissing a sullen Ian squarely on the lips. This draws a quizzical look from me, to which Ian shakes his head – they haven't slept together.
As it's now 11:30am, Jason, Kenny and Ian go off to make lunch, leaving me with Alejandro, who seems very comfortable with himself, and very gay.
A friend of mine is a photographer. He does a lot of coverage for a local gay magazine, "Out Now" or ON. He shoots the covers, a lot of the ads, the usual stuff. One cover I remember was of a rather cute blond boy, a boy with no expression. I hadn't really liked the photo because it showed nothing about who he was, but I did think that he was cute. When I mentioned the photo to Charlie , he giggled. "You have no idea how long it took me to get that single shot. That boy is seriously...fey. I had to butch him up quite a bit before I could get something that was usable." That's Alejandro in a nutshell. When he arrived, he had butched himself up. But after half an hour, when he realized that it was safe to be who he actually is, his voice got an octave higher, his gestures a good deal broader, and it was obvious how he and Ian had found each other. I should add that he has a great sense of humor, about himself and the world, a good thing because the world has not always had a great sense of humor about him, hence the butch act. We chat for maybe 45 minutes while the boys pull lunch together, and I learn that he's pulled a full scholarship to San Jose State, that he wants to be a painter and has actually had an exhibition as part of local artists' guild, that he speaks three languages, including, of all things, Mandarin (because his grandmother, who helped to raise him, is Chinese), and (though he didn't tell me this) that he's in love with Ian. What's not to love?
Just as we're getting into politics, Kenny comes to the living room, calling us to lunch, and Alejandro suddenly looks self-conscious. "Umm..."
I wait a beat or two, and then ask. "A problem?"
He flushes a bit, and then spits it out. "Ian and your other friends are...naked. Should I be...umm...naked?"
I laugh. "Ian brought you home out of the blue. He's supposed to let us know when he's bringing someone home so we can...prepare. He didn't. He'll pay for that tomorrow night. Thankfully, you don't seem to be especially bothered by our...lifestyle. You're a guest. You can be any way you want to be."
Alejandro looks at his feet, thinking, and then goes to the entryway and strips, much to my amazement, and, subsequently, in the dining room, much to the amazement of Kenny, Jason, and Ian. He is absolutely flushed, but more comfortable, I think, in solidarity with the boys. The meal is amazing, and nothing that Alejandro has ever had before. Sautéed clam meat with choi sum, shrimp with black mushrooms, steamed halibut with ham and mushrooms, yam noodles, and sweet-bean soup for dessert. This is a Jason menu if ever there was one, and just fucking delicious. Alejandro is a bit put off, especially by the bean soup, but tries everything, and I think ultimately really likes it. (Well, maybe not the dessert, but he clearly likes the rest.) Kenny is nearly beside himself. He's by far the more adventurous of the two in terms of what he likes to cook, straying far more broadly into western cuisine, but he loves Chinese, and considers Jason the best Chinese cook he's ever met. He's told me that more than once.
After lunch, the boys carry the dishes back to the kitchen and start the clean-up process, even Alejandro participating. After about ten minutes, Ian emerges and comes to the office to find me. Closing the door, he sits in front of my desk, looking somehow forlorn and excited at the same time. "Tim, can Alejandro...umm...play with us?"
I give him a long, long look, a look that clearly makes him very nervous. "What are you asking me, Ian."
He stares at the rug just in front of his feet. "Umm...I'm really...umm...attracted to...Alejandro."
Ian is so cute, but I can't resist playing with him a little. "He's an attractive boy."
"Yeah...and I'd...umm...like to... like to..."
"Like to what, Ian?"
He looks up at me, and realizes that I'm playing with him. He giggles. "Can we...umm...have sex with him?"
I smile. He's finally gotten it out. "Do you think he wants to have sex with us?"
"Umm...yeah. He...sort of...couldn't take his eyes off you during the entire meal, and he's...umm asked me to..."
"...have sex with him," I complete the sentence?
"Yeah. I told him I'd have to ask...permission."
"Did that surprise him?"
"I think it did at first, but then I sort of explained how we...live... and he got sort of...excited."
I laugh. "How old is he?"
"He's 19, he says."
"Can he prove it?"
He pauses. "I guess. He's got a driver's license."
"Where does he live? With his folks?"
"Umm...no. They threw him out when they figured out...who he was."
"You mean that he's gay?"
"Yeah.
"So, where's he live?"
"I think he lives with friends, mostly. Sometimes I think he lives on the...umm...street."
That last answer worries me; it worries me a lot. "Go back to the kitchen and help Kenny and Jason with the dishes, and send Alejandro to me."
Ian leaves, looking apprehensive, and about two minutes later there's a knock on the door.
"Come on in," I shout.
Alejandro opens the door, comes in, and sits in the big chair in front of the desk. He smiles. We look at each other for several seconds.
"So, Alejandro, Ian says you'd like to play with us."
He flushes, but holds my gaze. "I would. I am very attracted to you, and to him."
"How old are you, Alejandro?"
"19."
"Can you prove it?"
He gets up, and leaves the office, returning with his wallet, extracting his driver's license, which he hands to me. He is 19 and four months.
"Where do you live? Ian says that you and your parents are not...close."
Again, he smiles, but sadly this time. "It's true. My parents will have nothing to do with me since they concluded that I'm...gay."
"So where do you live?"
"Mostly I live with friends. Sometimes, when I cannot find anywhere else, I live under the overpass at Saratoga and 280."
I give him a very long look. "And, how do you afford food?"
Finally, he gets it. "I do not sell my body, Mr. Jensen, and I do not sell drugs. I have a job, although a bad one. It does not pay me enough to rent an apartment, though I can usually afford food."
"I'm sorry, Alejandro, but I have to protect my family. How sexually active have you been?"
He smiles. "I've had one sexual relationship."
"Have you been tested for HIV?"
"Yes. After the relationship ended, about seven months ago, I was tested."
"And..."
"Negative."
Never, never, never believe anyone's claims to negativity. Believe only what you know, only what you can prove with certainty. As my father used to say, "Trust everyone, but always cut the cards." We've never used condoms. (Not true. After Andrew's death, we used condoms because we couldn't guarantee our own negativity.) But we are all three monogamous. I realize this will sound absurd to the christian elite, who believe that all gay men have 1000 sex partners a year (according to a recent article on OneNewsNow.com, a website out of Missi-fucking-sippi, a state where they still lynch black people, I believe) but I've had only six in my lifetime, and Jason and Kenny have had fewer than that. Asked about the lack of infidelity in his marriage, Paul Newman asked the interviewer "If you have steak at home, why go looking for hamburger." That, I think, is how we all four feel. I love Jason and Kenny more than anyone on this earth, and I think they share those feelings. I've come to love Ian in the same way. I am, frankly, very concerned about letting anyone into this relationship, but Ian is in love, I think. I look at him very skeptically. "I want you tested again. My doctor. I'll pay. Tomorrow. And, if Ian is in love with you, I want you to live here. It's a controllable environment, and I am, if nothing else, a control freak."
"I know," he replies.
I laugh. "What has Ian told you about me," I ask?
He thinks. "Well, that you are a dominating force in the relationship, that he loves you, adores you...more than he loves me, that you've `rescued him from adversity' several times, and that he won't...umm...do anything with me...without your permission."
"And that makes you feel...how?"
He stops, dead. Long, long pause. "I'd like to be honest..."
"You haven't been up to now?"
"No, I mean..."
I laugh and smile. "I understand. Please..."
"When Ian described to me the relationship you have with him and the other...guys, I was at first surprised. But as I thought about it, I realized how lucky he is. I have many goals, stuff I'd like to do with my life. But, I'm not very..."
"Self-motivated?"
"Yes," he says, bowing his head. "I'm not very self-motivated. I mean, sometimes I am, but I am not...consistent. Ian is very...focused, very intent on achieving what he sets out to do. He is incredibly determined about his grades, for example, always prepared for his classes. He is very intense. He says that is because of you. I am not sure how you achieve that, but I would like that kind of...guidance."
I smile at him, and then giggle. "I achieve that in two ways. The first is that I spank him...rigorously...religiously...every Monday and Friday. He can count on six strokes of my razor strop to keep him on target. It inevitably and always makes him cry, which is why six is his minimum number, because at six strokes he's sobbing, which is something he likes to do. It's an emotional release that effectively focuses him. If he's misbehaved during the week, if he brings me a mediocre grade report (by which I mean, in his case, any grade less than an A), if he fails to help the other boys, he gets additional strokes, sometimes a lot of additional strokes. Ian is very focused on his grades because I am very focused on his grades, and will take it out on his ass for anything less than what I know he's capable of, which is perfection. I also control his sexual activity, something you need to understand. No one gets off in this house without my permission – and usually, my participation. Ian likes to cum two to three times a day, and usually does, because he's very focused on pleasing me, on good grades, on helping with housework, on achieving. If he fails me, he may find himself in a `dry spell.' There's no masturbation allowed here. We get off together, or we don't get off at all. I'm very serious about this, Alejandro. If you live with us, you'll get off because I let you. If you get off any other way, and I find out (and I will) the punishment will be very severe, or you'll be out. Cumming without permission is one of the worst transgressions in the house."
He looks a little surprised, wide-eyed, but in the course of my lecture, he's plumped up quite a bit, and is nearly erect. "You will spank me until I cry, twice a week," he asks, moving his hands to cover his genitals.
"I will. Only twice a week, unless you try to cover yourself, in which case the spankings will be more frequent and more severe."
He parses this last statement slowly, a totally confused look on his face, and then gets it, dropping his hands, allowing his erection to spring to attention as he flushes.
"I need to cum at least twice a day," he whines.
"Yes, I know, like most guys your age. That's your motivation to achieve." I smile.
He looks worried as we pause in the conversation. Finally he looks up at me, pensively. "This is going to sound really strange..."
I know exactly where this is going. I've been here before, months and months and months ago, with Jason. I just wait for the request to materialize.
"Umm...I'm concerned about...the...spankings. Umm...could you..."
"Yes. I could and I will. We'll `audition' each other to see if this is something you really want. First, though, if you want to live here, you'll need some personal grooming tips. Besides the fact that they're naked, have you noticed anything else about the boys?"
"Umm...you mean that they have no pubic hair?"
"Yup. House rule. You ready for that?"
He smiles. "Sure." Then, looking a little embarrassed, "I actually did that to myself several years ago. Why do you like it?"
"It's a control issue, like being naked in the house. I want you to remember that you're submissive to me. I want you to feel vulnerable. When you did it to yourself, how'd you like it?"
"I liked it, but I thought it made me look like a baby. It made it really sensitive down there, but kind of itchy after a while."
"You have to keep at it. You can't go back and forth or it'll make you crazy. Is your ass hairy?"
"I guess."
"So, you'll have to get one of the boys to help you. Kenny has a hairy ass crack, so Jason helps him every morning. Maybe Ian can help you. Let's go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up."
I get up from behind the desk, and motion for him to follow me down the hall and through the bedroom, onto a stool in the master bath. With an electric clipper I cut his pubic bush, the hair under his arms, and his ass crack (which is, indeed, hairy) and then shave away the stubble so that his body is completely smooth. Stunning. "The other advantage of this, of course, is that you have such beautiful skin. Why not show it off?" I lick his pubic area to check that he's smooth. He is as flushed as he can be. Terribly embarrassed, and rock hard from the manipulation of his dick as I've shaved him. I look up into his eyes and smile. "Wanna get off," I ask?" He gets a shade or two darker.
"Yes, please..."
I start to suck him, and he starts to pant...almost instantly. It doesn't take more than three or four minutes until he's blasting into my mouth, and as he comes down from his orgasm, he's nearly crying. "Please, can I touch you? Can I kiss you?"
I look up at him, quizzically. "Of course."
He seals his mouth to mine, in a long and sensual kiss that last for minutes. Finally, he breaks the kiss, panting in my ear. "Jesus, I've wanted to do that all day."
"I don't know about you, but I think kissing is the most intimate sex act of all. I can fuck someone casually, but a kiss, face to face, is just too much."
"Yes," he replies.
"We're going to use condoms for the foreseeable future, Alejandro, at least six months, because I don't trust you, yet. I'm sorry, but I have to protect my family."
He nods. "Yes, I understand."
"Now, let's get you spanked.
I take Alejandro downstairs, to the punishment table. I've no idea how he's going to respond to this. His dick through the hole in the middle of the table, aimed at a pail, he's unlikely to soil anything. I strap him in place, and ask him just what I asked Jason, many moons ago. "What are you paying for? How much punishment do you want?" He answers differently, after thinking about the question.
"I'd like you to spank me until I sob like Ian does after six. That'll give me an idea of what my average is likely to be...if I'm good."
This is such an intelligent answer. It tells me so much about him, so much I need to know. I nod, and grab the razor strop off the wall, and lay into him with the first five in rapid succession. He is absolutely stoic, silent, although I notice that his breathing changes, is much more rapid. The next five I deliver more slowly, although harder, and by ten, he's sniffling. He has a high tolerance for pain, apparently. But, by five more, fifteen total, he's sobbing, weeping. I return the razor strop to the wall, unfasten him, and carry him to the chair in the corner, hugging him, where he continues to weep for maybe 20 minutes, draped over my shoulder. "You did very well; maybe too well." I continue to pet him, stroking his back, his hair.
Finally, regaining control, he pulls back, looking me in the eye, and starts to cry again. "Okay. I can take this. But...can we...pull back a little. I was a little...too...macho."
I laugh, and kiss him on the face. "Yeah, I thought that was a little too...intense. Go lie on your belly on the table again," I order, and go and get the lotion, coating his bruised and crimson ass with some Lubriderm. Then I carry him back to the lounge chair, and cuddle with him for the next twenty minutes.
"So, are you in or out?"
Still sniffing back tears. "I'm in, but I think maybe...14...should be my default."
"Actually, I think we'll start with 13."
"And, is this is how the session usually ends? Me sitting on your lap?"
"Yeah, usually."
"No wonder Ian doesn't mind." Alejandro hugs me, and I hug him back. And he stays draped over my left shoulder for another ten minutes, finally getting up and presenting himself to the boys, groomed, red-assed and ready. I assign Ian to help with his ongoing grooming.
There are five of us in bed tonight. I have what's called a "California King size," which amounts to two twin-size beds shoved together. It's a little tight, but not bad. From left to right it's Kenny, me, Jason, Ian and Alejandro. We've spent the last three hours fucking, with condoms (to nobody's pleasure), and the positions have changed frequently. Alejandro, like Kenny, I find, is "versatile." Like me. Jason, and Ian are not. But three out of five ain't bad. I've fucked Alejandro, and he's fucked Ian – so tenderly, so carefully. You can just see the love between them. Kenny has fucked me, and I've fucked Jason. Three hours. This just might work. Jason is my worry. I know that he's not big on group sex, and the group is getting bigger. He wants me all to himself. Later, I take him aside, propelling him into the office, closing the door. I take him to the over-stuffed chair in the corner, and set him on my lap. "You know how much I love you, don't you?"
He nods.
"No. You know that I adore you?"
He nods again.
"No." I whisper in his ear, "You know that you're my favorite, right?"
He immediately tears up.
"If you ever tell Kenny I said that, I'll beat you within an inch of your life," I laugh. "But I swear to god, Jason, I love you more than life. You're so sweet and thoughtful. And, of course, you're gorgeous. I couldn't live without you. I am so fucking in love with you..." We hug, and I kiss him passionately.
Breaking the kiss, I look into his eyes. "I never expected this, Jason. I mean, I hoped to fall in love with you, but I don't think I knew what that meant. Yeah, I've been in relationships before, and, yeah, I've been in love, or what I thought was love, but it's never been like this before. I honestly couldn't live without you." I'm crying. This is genuine. I just fucking adore him.
Yeah...yeah...yeah... I know. There are people who need to be in love, and there are people who don't. I've always thought that the latter are stronger, more independent, somehow better people. But I've never been able to be like them. I need to be in love, and I've never been more in love that I am now. I love this boy more than I've ever loved anyone, and I think if he were taken away from me, I'd have to kill myself.
Now he's crying, sobbing, draped over my shoulder. "I love you so much, baby, so much...so fucking much."
He nods, and continues to cry, and so do I.
So fucking much.
Published first at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Nemo-stories/