I Like Head/Chapter 2 By Joe Justice lexdude34@gmail.com
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I Like Head/Chapter 2
Nobody fucks with my boys. I should say, "with my fags." It doesn't hurt that 2,500 miles from Philly, I have an Italian family name that sounds to lot like a certain famous TV mob family. I said "sounds like." People make assumptions, and I don't confirm or deny. It also doesn't hurt that I'm jacked, and a varsity wrestler. Is someone really gonna even try to take me in a fight? So it never comes to that. If one of my fags gets bothered, and I find out about it, I make sure the shithead who's buggin' my boy gets the message. I will track him down, get close to his ear, and make it clear that he stays clear of my fag, and shuts his mouth about it too. My boys are protected.
"What'd you have for breakfast?" Stee was cooking up some eggs and bacon for me at my stove, just an apron on, his perfect ass exposed. 'Stee' is Steven, my main boy now. (He'd prefer "Steven," all prissy-like, but since when do fags get to choose what they're called?) I'd hammered two loads up his cunt last night, plus the one he swallowed right after the Korean fag split, then sent him to bed. His bed. Downstairs from me. Like a bunny, Stee was up early, getting my breakfast ready in my kitchen. He put the coffee on the table in front of me, as I lazily strolled in and pulled up a seat.
"What you told me to, y'know, cottage cheese and melon," he said, with just a little peev in the tone. I was sitting back in the chair, my legs splayed open, my junk airing out. Two of my favorite things were right in front of me: an extremely fuckable fag, and service with a smile.
"Hey, you are sooo close to target, why do you want to spoil it by getting fat?"
"Boss, only you call a 27-inch waist fat..." I like it when he calls me Boss.
"Well, when you get to 26 and stay there, bitch, then you can eat whatever you want." A beat. Stee was an okay gymnast here, so he showed up with a tight gymnast's body, but I'm super particular about how my boys should look. I took that body and shaped it, with real precise lifting notes. Stee's already fine butt has gotten bigger, his waist smaller, and his upper body way leaner and softer. I don't let him work his arms and shoulders too much. A 5'6" fag should look like a fag, not a miniature man, y'know?
Stee loaded up my plate and put in down on the table in front of me. "Besides, you're not getting enough protein," I taunted, with a smirk and a raised brow and a long slow pull on my meat.
He paused at that remark, looked right at me. And then he did a classic Stee. He reached behind him, and very deliberately untied the apron strings, and shucked his covering. Without breaking eye contact, he knelt between my legs, clasped his hands behind his back, and reverently began tonguing the big head of my dick. He pulled off just for a moment to softly whisper, "Boss, I can never get too much protein...," and started deep diving on my hog, with loads of soft tongue, lips and worshipful eyes. "They say it's part of a balanced diet, boss, along with melon and cottage cheese." That last whispered with a wink.
Oh, God, this boy could suck the life back into a dead man! Stee was mapping out all the places he knew would get me going. I was rock hard, but gonna let this one be super kicked back. I sipped my coffee "Let the fag do the work," is how one of my DL buds, Benny, told me years ago back in Rehobeth. I've already told you I'm about eight-and-half inches long, but it's the thickness that does the trick when I'm up some boy's twat. Like a Red Bull can, so say, six-and-half inches, with an outsized mushroom head and ropy veins all over. Not a pretty cock. A club. Stee just opens his throat, and hoovers me in. Was he weaned on dick instead of his mamma's titty? Why am I even asking? Stee told me himself why he was so good - all those dicks sucked at the Officer's Club.
The phone pinged. "What's up, dude?" My buddy, Phil. "I'm having my breakfast while the finest piece of ass on College Street blows me. Yeah, really! Who else, dude. Oh, fuck, bro! This mouth should not be legal! Here, look." I turned the cam on Stee's loving oral attention. "You see what I'm sayin' bro?" Stee looked at the cam, winked again and went back to work. He still hadn't used his hands.
"Three. Two in the pussy, one swallow. Bitch made breakfast. Not gonna happen, bro, bitch has a full plate with this. Can't you see? Gotta run, bro."
"Phil wants a piece," I told Stee. He was on Planet Stee, between my legs, totally focused on pulling the first load of the morning outta me. My nuts were starting to pull up. I was gonna leave my hands off him this time. "Jesus, Stee....baby, nobody does that like you, you know that?" And then he took me over the edge. "Oh FUUUUUCCK, oh man, godDAMN, Stee." My hips bucked up and I almost lost control of the coffee cup. I shot a huge load into Stee's mouth and onto his face. Now, he used his fingers to swipe the spooge into his mouth. His cock was hard and still untouched.
While I lay back panting, Stee smiled indulgently, picked himself up in that precise gymnast way of his, put his apron back on, and went back to the kitchen sink, all business now. "You need more coffee, or you good? Y'know, his girlfriend's gonna find out? You know that, right?," Stee said, coming back to the table and pulling up a seat at the table to watch me eat.
"Well, if she does, it ain't gonna come from me, and it ain't gonna come from you. He's got the DL thing down. Dudes at Kappa still don't know...." That's where I met Phil. He lived down the hall at Kappa, and he was the one brother from the house who I could pretty much talk to about anything, and know he could keep his mouth shut. When I decided to move out to uh, set up house here with Stee, he was the first guy I told, and the only bro there I told why.
"How big's his dick anyway?"
"You ever think about anything else?"
"Yeah, Boss, I think about your keeping your books all neat, and taking the cash to the bank for you, and cleaning your house, and buying your groceries, and what I'm gonna tell my folks the next time they ask why I'm still here in Cabbageville and not going to school and not working. Yeah, I think about those things, Boss. And, yeah, how big any guy's dick is, and will I get to suck it." He was in sensible housewife mode now, putting things away. "You got customers coming over at 3:30, remember? You want me to put out some food?" I hit a nerve. The "folks" issue.
"Yeah, nothing too special. And I wanna talk to you about your folks, right now. I want you to get on Skype and tell them who you are."
"What!?"
"You heard me. This is bullshit. I gave you three months to tell them, but you wanna keep stringing them along, like you're gonna move home and get married. You're married to me, bitch...and the sooner your folks know it, the better." Ok, I let it slip out...just broke Fag Management rule number 14 (Rehobeth Edition): always keep the fag guessing about where he stands.
"You want me to say 'Mom and Dad, I'm not coming home because I've given up my career to be some hot dude's bitch.' My Dad will be here on the next flight."
Now it was my turn to get firm. I raised my voice a bit. "Your Dad is a former Army officer, right? I've been holding this back, little one. I bet you he surprises you. You really think he doesn't know you're a fag? Not just gay, a fag. You're pop is a real man, who's been ordering other men around his whole adult life. He ordered you around, and you tell me you liked it. You think he really had no idea about you sucking all that cock at the Officer's Club pool? You told me it was like for five years. And he had no idea? Really?" I had him now. Stee was silent, eyes on floor, flushed.
I was on a roll. "I know how men like him think. And I'll tell ya' what. I think he protected you, until you were ready to accept who you were. He had the clout to keep all that stuff on base quiet -- you told me that. He let you be a cocksucker, because he knew that's what you are, and he wanted you to accept it, and he wanted you to find a man who'd keep you safe. He's been waiting for this call. I promise you." That was rough, but it needed to be said. Stee was crying softly now.
"C'mere." I patted my leg, and he sat on it. "I'm your man, you know that, right?" Sniffles and nodding. "I'm exactly the kind of guy your dad wants you with." More sniffles. "I know it. We're gonna do this right after those clowns leave with their weed. Go get on the phone now and tell your folks you need to Skype about something important, at 7 tonight. Do it. And then let's review the books for the month before the customers get here. Got it?"
"Yes, Boss," he said, more quiet than usual. I'll bet he didn't figure on this talk as his reward for the morning blowjob.
I was in the weeds here. Getting feelings for my fag. All those things Benny schooled me about in Rehobeth. Fuck Uncle Gino and all the damn relatives. Stee was my girl. I wanted to walk her on some gay beach in a thong, with that awesome ass sticking out, watching all the dudes pant like wolves, and know that I was splitting that pussy nine ways from unday. I wanted to knock Stee up and have him carry my babies. Okay, reader, I said it. Yeah, Benny would flip out. Phil would flip out. "You can't be friends with a fag, bro," was the mantra. "Those bitches only understand cock and a firm hand." There was some truth to that, but fuck it, no way was I letting Stee get away from me.
That's why he was gonna out himself to his folks tonight. His folks don't get the "checking out my options" explanation for sticking around here, when he coulda been in grad school. The fact is, Steven's "option" is me, hammering his cunt or riding his mouth like a saddle, as often as he can stand it.
I yelled, "Hey, the sheets gotta get changed. Somebody made a mess in there last night. You listening to me?"
"I heard you, Boss," he yelled back from the bedroom. "Call folks. Change sheets. Check accounts. Lay out food for customers. Get ready for Skype call. Eat more cottage cheese and melon." Then a beat. "And try not to think about how big Phil's dick is." A beat, while I chuckled. "Did I get that right? Did I leave off anything, Boss?"
"Nope. You got everything. I'm gonna shower now..."
Is Stee a slave, who just obeys without question? Well, Stee would be the first to say he's a slave to my dick, but the word itself sounds kinda harsh. I mean, like I said, I make sure no one hassles him, and he lives downstairs rent free. He cleans my place, cooks for me, and takes care of all sorts of small shit I can't be bothered with. And I don't let him work a job (cause his job is serving me) or have sex with anyone else unless I tell him to. And yeah, I have total say about what he wears, and his exercise and his diet. He's probably taken two of my loads, average, every day since we hooked up 18 months ago. But "slave"? All I know is he was one of those fags who was desperate to submit to a man, and I was the man who saw through his "confident little jock" bit and turned him out. But hey, I let him sleep in my bed on his birthday. Do slaves get to do that?
(to be continued)