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By Dudley Jarvis-North
Dennis waves me over from his booth at the back of Kirby's Diner in Uphams Corner, far from the eyes of nosey locals. I recently turned 18 and he's 30 or thereabouts. To say I'm nervous is an understatement, but I'm too excited to turn tail and run. He is wearing a pale yellow shortsleeved shirt that complements the blond hair on his arms.
Dennis is lanky, about 6 feet tall, 180 pounds I guess, with a full head of dirty blond hair, meaning not whitish blond but dark honey blond. He has brown eyes and a confident smile. Like the night when I ogled him at the bowladrome, he hasn't shaved and is scruffy.
After chitchat and two cups of coffee, we leave. I can feel my scrotum tighten. He picks up on that. "No need to be nervous, Pete. We won't do anything you don't want to do."
So my fantasy is going to come true. I am going to have sex with this glorious hunk of manhood.
We walk to Dennis's apartment and up to the top floor of a typical Boston three-decker. In Bostonese, that means three floors comprise the blocky building with one apartment on each floor.
He gets both of us Budweisers and sits beside me on the couch. He peels off his shirt and I see his naked chest, which looks even hairier than I expected.
"This apartment gets too hot in the summer and I'm sweating," he says, but there is no need for an explanation. There are huge sweat stains at the armpits of his shirt, and I couldn't be more thrilled to see his naked chest. "You can take yours off, too," he says, but I decide to leave mine on.
Dennis's fur covers his chest all the way down to a lush treasure trail. His nipples are as big as silver dollars. He is not muscular but naturally buff, the way a working man should be. I am so excited, I am having trouble getting my words out, which is not like my usual loquacious self.
"I've never been on a date," I stutter. "This is a date, right?" I ask meekly.
Dennis points to the bulge at my crotch and laughs. "It looks like you have a hard-on, Pete. That means you're on a date."
He raises his Budweiser and we clink bottles. "To new adventures," and he stares at me lustily.
A few sips of beer and I am less anxious.
"Let's get some stuff out of the way first," he declares. "You seem to be into guys -- your eyes were drilling holes in me at the bowling alley -- but I need to know that you're absolutely sure about that. I have no interest in seducing straight guys."
My answer is to lay my hand on his crotch. He laughs again.
"Thanks for looking out for me, Dennis, but I am totally into guys."
More questions follow.
"Then how much experience have you had, if you don't mind my asking?"
I blurt out the few details from my sordid past.
"I sucked off a few guys in the back row of the Strand Theater. That's it. That's the total of my sexual experience."
"So you have never been one on one with a guy in his apartment? You haven't been naked, with a guy doing, ya know, other things besides sucking dick?
"Not yet," I say and add, "But I'm here now."
His next question startles me. "How would you feel about having rough sex with a guy?"
"Rough sex? You mean like S&M?"
"Not like S&M. Actual S&M. Let me tell you a bit about me. I get off pushing sexual limits, especially with an inexperienced guy like you. I want to teach you how pleasurable it can be to submit and let me have my way with you, to show you how to be open to doing things you might not have imagined. Do you think you can handle that?"
This date has veered spectacularly into uncharted territory. The idea of "rough sex" appeals to me, but how rough does he want to get? And what does he mean by "things I might not have imagined?" I'm smitten by him, but have never done anything kinky and I'm loathe to disappoint him.
"I admit to having fantasies, Dennis, especially since I started reading Drummer. You must know that magazine. I wonder what it would be like to submit to an older guy like you."
Dennis's face lights up. Everything I just said fits his sexual agenda. He pushes me backward on the couch and lands on my body. He grips my wrists and forcibly jerks my arms above my head. He has already gotten rough.
"Let's get started," he says. His lips meet mine. "Do what I'm doing with my mouth and tongue," he says. "This is your first lesson."
His lips feel warm and taste like Budweiser as he sucks my lips, pokes his tongue in my mouth and uses it to caress my cheeks inside. This is interesting, I think. I have never kissed anyone, much less like this. Then he sucks on my tongue.
"Do you like deep kissing, Pete? I answer by sucking his tongue.
"Let's get this off." Dennis pulls my T-shirt over my head. I'm self-conscious about my skinny body, which is why I didn't remove my shirt earlier. I'm 5-7 and weigh 130 pounds. As he takes in my chest and belly, in no way does he seem disappointed.
"You have a hot Italian boy body, like the olive-skinned kids in Baron von Gloeden's photos." When I look puzzled, he says, "I'll show you his books some time. He would have liked you. He had a thing for Sicilian boys."
His tongue licks one of my nipples, then the other. My dick hardens and my whole body trembles.
"Your nips go right to your dick, I see. Let's find out how much you can take." He leans into me and bites one of them. I'm trembling and think I'm going to cum in my Hanes undies right there. I have never played with my nipples, nor has anyone else.
"Dennis bites them harder while he rubs the front of my jeans. "Why are these still on?" he asks somewhat rhetorically, and pulls off my Levis, socks and shoes. I am lying on the sofa in just a pair of white briefs.
He attacks my underwear and soon they are wet with his spittle. They were already moist with sweat because I have been sitting in this 90-degree apartment and his ministrations have pushed me to the boiling point.
Dennis unbuckles his belt and his khakis slide to the floor. He is wearing striped boxer shorts, a perfectly reasonable choice for a working man on a hot summer day, but I am disappointed that he is not wearing BVDs like the ones he wore at the bowling alley. I have a fetish for tighty-whiteys, but no way could he know that.
"WHAT!?" he barks, annoyed at my sad face. I let him know that I was hoping he'd be wearing my favorite underwear as he did at the bowladrome, that his boxers don't cut it for me.
"Ya know, Pete, those BVDs are on the floor in my bedroom. I can put them on if you want, but they don't have a washer or dryer in this building, so I push it before I do my clothes at the laundromat. "I've been wearing those undies in the heat all week. You know what that means?"
"In that case," I say mischievously, "Why don't you get them and glue them to my face?"
He gives me a look that says he is shocked by how piggy I am.
Dennis heads to the bedroom and some 10 minutes later, he reenters the living room wearing the BVDs, but not just those. Framing them is a pair of black leather chaps that seem painted onto his body.
I am tongue-tied again, dazzled by how hot he is and how lucky I am.
Dennis reaches under the sofa and pulls out what looks to be a mask. It is actually a black leather hood. "Let's see how this looks on you," he says, and he works the strings that tighten it on my head.It has a hole where my mouth is and one for my nose, but none where my eyes are.
I'm a little scared. I can't see anything and things are happening so fast.
"You are wearing this hood because I want you to use your other senses -- you can touch, smell, taste and worship me, but you won't be able to see me. You might not know it yet, Pete, but you are a submissive waiting to blossom and want to be told what to do."
I think he's right.
Dennis's hands rip off my briefs -- I feel him literally finger the fly and tear the front in two -- then he squeezes my dick and balls until they hurt. "Nice cock, Pete, I didn't know you were uncircumcised, just like the boys in von Gloeden's photos. Now give me your hands. I want you to feel something."
Is this the moment that I am going to feel the dick I long to touch? Sadly, that's not what I get. The something he promised is hard and plastic, a short tube of some kind. "Wrap your hand around it," he orders. "You're going to be wearing this."
He feeds my dick into the tube -- even soft, it's a tight fit -- then with his other hand squeezes my balls together and encircles them with something that feels like a plastic ring. Then I hear a snap -- it sounds like a lock -- and when he removes his hands, my junk is heavier and is being pulled downward.
"You're in a chastity cage," he says. "You won't be able to get an erection until I take it off. Do you understand?"
"Jeesh, I hadn't read anything about chastity cages in the
stories I've read. He must be even kinkier than the guys who write for Drummer.
"You're also wearing the hood for my own special reason," he explains. "I want you to worship me without seeing me. It's part of your training. Got it?"
Dennis orders me to kneel and pushes his body against my face. I breathe in the distinct scent of leather before my nose lands on his thighs. "Lick," he commands and my tongue obeys. I polish one thigh and then the other. The taste of leather makes me crazy. My tongue works all the way down to his knees and back up to his thighs. Now I know why dudes love leather.
Dennis guides my head onto his white briefs, although before I was hooded I saw that they weren't all that white. And not because he doesn't use bleach. He wasn't kidding about wearing them all week. They smell strongly of sweat, precum and piss.
"In my head I thank Sid's Cigar Store where, too embarrassed to buy them, I stole the Drummer magazines that have helped me find myself and get this far.
Dennis has gotten progressively bossier. "You wanted me to wear these filthy BVDs," he scolds me, "Now you can eat them." And he bangs my face into his crotch. Unless I'm imagining it, I can smell his dick through the cotton, but that could be wishful thinking, given his underwear smell is also filling my nostrils. I hope he didn't shower for our date. I'll find out soon enough if he did or didn't.
"Clean my undies with your spit," he orders, and he slaps the side of my head, startling me. I m giving you a challenge, Pete."I want your breath smelling like my BVDs and I want my BVDs smelling clean. If you get that done, I might let you take my dick out."
His words propel me into action. The cleaner I get them, the faster I hope I'll get to touch his cock, although I am disappointed I won't be seeing it.
I work on his BVDs until I can no longer smell the juices from his body on them. They are drenched with my spit, but as I grab the elastic band planning to slide them off, he slaps my hands and pulls me up from my kneeling position, pushing me back on the sofa.
"Not so fast, young man. You have more work to do before you get the privilege of my dick."
(to be continued)
Other stories I've posted on nifty:
Encounters:
The Bass Player,
The Pact (both Sept. 13,'17),
James (Jan. 26, '18),
At the Underwear Rack, 2 parts, April 23 `19
Aleksandr 2 parts (Aug. 20, '20
Shane the Barber
Michigan Mitch (Aug. 27 20220
Dennis My Menace (Feb. 5 2023)
Urination:
Drink It (2 parts, Sept. 24, '18)
Lesson at Rock River (Nov. 6, '18)
Adult Youth:
Aaron's Basement (Jan. 12, '18);
Authoritarian
Taken in the Woods (May 28, '18),
Forced Reenactment (Dec. 14 '19);
The Punishment that Wasn't (April 2, 2020)
Camping:
Camping with Josh, 5 parts (Sept. 24, '18);
High School
William the Great, 3 parts, Jan, 16, '19)
Incest
How Did My Bro Know? (March 20 '20).
Greek Reunion, 3 parts, (Aug. 20 '21)