Sure enough, the video picked up just after Ian instructed me to close my eyes, and after deep-throating his cock, any cock actually, for the first time in my life. Slimy, viscus saliva had been mined from the deep recesses of my mouth and was now visibly dribbling down my chin. My face was reddened and there was a faint shine around my eyelids and down my cheeks where tears had just been. Even on my tiny phone screen, I could plainly see how hopeless and pathetic I was. Anyone else who saw this would see the same. My dick began hardening. I hit pause.
No... focus. I needed to be watching for one reason only - no distractions. I knew what I had done was a felony in the state of Texas, but a jury would need proof. Does this video implicate me? I took a deep breath and resumed playback.
I watch Ian's member moving back and forth across my lips, the frame of view moving up and down with the gyrations. Shit. I almost forgot. He was wearing his high school's t-shirt. It was upside down, but readable. "Saddle Ridge Cougars" in stylized block font. But kids keep shirts for years, right? Plus plenty of high schoolers are legal age. I was momentarily shaken but pressed on.
And then...
I couldn't have known, he forced my eyes closed! Did he plan this, the little bastard? My stomach sank to the depths of the ocean. He switched the phone's video to front-facing! And suddenly, there he was - his baby-smooth face seeming distracted but content, almost in awe of what was happening. He suddenly pushes the phone away with his left arm to capture the right, now flexing a standard pose in his sleeveless tee. A little, round rock of muscle pops out of his bicep and I swear I see a little bead of sweat fall and dangle from his underarm. For just a couple seconds he sticks his tongue out forcing a smile of unmistakable satisfaction. I wasn't just played, I was conquered. I switched over to Google.
"indecent act minor texas penalty" - Search...
Felony. Two to twenty years. My heart started racing even faster. Even the minimum would be life-changing. Two years in prison for a young, skinny, white, queer runt? That could be a death sentence. Even if I made it out alive I would surely be a broken human being. And what would my family think? My friends? Society would mar me with the scarlet letter of "sex offender." Could I ever get a good job again? I felt a panic attack coming on. I dropped the phone and began breathing heavily.
Okay. Get it together. Think this through. You only get in trouble if... Maybe you can just wait this out. Shut Ian out going forward, but keep him happy. Maybe even convince him to delete the video? I'm sure he just made it to brag to his friends. Eventually, time would make me immune to this crime I just had to let the clock run out.
"statute of limitations indecent act minor texas" - Search...
Holy shit. Twenty years?!? The notion of being in my fifties when the specter of this video would finally be vanquished made me sick. My saliva suddenly turned warm and acrid.
Suffice it to say I didn't sleep well that night. I came close to texting Ian a few times, even writing out a few permutations of a possible response in my notes app, but nothing felt right. Plus he had school in the morning and it was way too late. I needed to catch him at the best possible ti....
....I woke up the next morning with the phone still in my hand. I stumbled downstairs and prepared my morning coffee. Ian was surely in class by now, and hopefully bored but not yet exhausted from hours of instruction. I remember how sleepy I would get in school mid-afternoon - brain fried. I got my phone out, hand shaking - from the coffee? I began tapping. I ultimately decided to keep it simple.
"Hey"
Damn. Read receipts were turned on. I thought they were a relic of the early days of smartphones but they're having a comeback weirdly. "Read" it said, almost immediately. The dreaded three dots appeared immediately and my heart started beating hard.
"Coming over today."
My dick twitched despite my mild annoyance over not having much say as to the when or how.
"Alright, thank you," I replied, intentionally avoiding the less formal "thanks," trying to sound more adult in front of him, less attached.
I knew any kind of productivity at work was out of the question. Just too fucked up from everything that transpired over the last 24 hours. Plus I needed to figure out my plan. Priority number one was understanding why he made this content, and figuring out if I could get him to delete it. Ideally, it's just jack-off material, less ideal it's his idea of a sentimental trophy, worst-case he's already shared this with his pervy friends, although the thought of a small legion of horny teens with their hands on their teenage cocks watching me looking slutty and giving their buddy a hummer gave me a real charge. If we are still in "catch and kill" territory maybe I can make it worth his effort. Kids his age think 20 bucks is significant. $100 is a real windfall. How hard could he be to buy off?
Like clockwork, 3:32 pm, the big yellow bus pulls up in front of my house, letting a stream of children off. It's as if they are seated by age and height, youngest getting off first, all scattering in myriad directions, the stream getting taller, more mature. Just when I think the last kid has exited, a few seconds later, there he is - loose tank top and uber-short running shorts, looking either like he just came from P.E. or wanted to be ready for his afternoon 5k. Backpack in tow, he takes a moment to dap another boy his age, say some parting words, and makes a quick check of his phone. Taking one last beat, he then abruptly turns and stares, as if he knew exactly where I was standing the entire time. Showtime. My adrenal glands once again kick into gear despite having been clocking in over time.
I get flustered. Maybe I meet him with a couple Cokes? He likes Coke, right? I only have Diet, but surely that's fine. I take a few steps towards the fridge but immediately have a change of heart. No. Don't pander. Don't look desperate. You need to meet him at the door, show strength. I start to turn back. Shit, I don't want it to seem like an intervention either. Maybe the Coke idea isn't the worst. I'm momentarily paralyzed by what feels like high-stakes decision-making. I realize I'm starting to sweat.
I hear the door creak open. Shit, I thought I had locked it. Ian walks straight in.
"Hey, ma.....," I stammer.
I'm in awe of his confidence. He doesn't so much as look at me as he walks straight for the couch, plopping down in the same spot as when I first met him. He chucked his heavy backpack in the seat next to him.
"Yo, can I get a Coke?," he said, pulling his phone out.
Okay, then. So I was right about the Coke.
"Uhhh...sure, dude. But I only have Diet."
He glared at me. Another beat passed.
"Yeah, whatever."
I was weirdly relieved but hated myself for caring so much at that moment. I grabbed two Diet Coke cans, cracked them, and went to pull out the same chair from our first encounter, not wanting to displace his backpack from the couch. I nearly tripped on the way back I was so nervous, but Ian was focused on his phone.
"I'm, uh... glad you came," I started. "We need to talk."
"Do we?" his quick reply.
"Yeah. So, uhhhh... listen. I'll c-cut to the chase. You, uh..., seem like a nice kid but this needs to end."
"What do you mean?"
"The video. You need to delete the video." I was momentarily struck by my sudden aggressiveness.
"Which video?" Ian responded, a wry smile slowly forming on his face.
"C'mon mannnn. Don't make me say it."
"I have a lot of videos on here, bro. Which one is it?"
"You know...the one you took yesterday of me, uh..., of me suc..."
"I'm just fucking with you, dude," Ian said with a laugh. "I dunno man, I kinda like watching it."
"I'll make this easy for you, Ian. Delete it and I'll give you $100." I felt so dirty paying this kid off but it needed to be done.
"Hmmm.....Yeah, I got ya. $100 and..." he paused for a moment, considering "...and you do my homework. Math is such a bitch."
Relief crashed over me. 100 dollars and I do his homework and this is all over tonight. My golden ticket. I haven't done schoolwork in years but how hard could it be? It's summer school for god's sake.
"Deal," I responded, not wanting to seem too eager.
We exchanged Venmo's. Are 15-year-olds even able to set up Venmo? I wasn't going to ask questions, I just wanted this over with. One....zero....zero..."private"... I tapped "send." Ian received the notification a few moments later and I witnessed his eyes light up. For a kid who hadn't shown the least bit of excitement about anything short of his cock in my mouth, his mood seemed legitimately improved by seeing my money transfer to him. A pure business transaction, sure, but with the bonus of seeing Ian act like kids should act when they get $100 they weren't expecting. And to think I was getting flustered earlier over nothing. This was almost all over.
We set up in my bedroom. Homework is done on computers these days - I almost forgot. He logged me into his school account on my laptop, saving his passwords along the way. Algebra? Elementary for a 15-year-old, right? I tried to remember where I was on the math track at that age. Trig for sure. Maybe Calculus? Western Civ would be more of a challenge for me, but no match for Google and a little common sense. American Lit? This was going to take some time but wouldn't be hard at all.
"I'm going downstairs. Don't open the door until you've finished."
I nearly protested - I hadn't had dinner after all, but he was gone and the door shut before I could even fathom a response. I realized at that moment the thought of Ian in my living room alone while I was upstairs locked away turned me on. He had access to so much of my stuff. Nothing that could get me in trouble. But it was...mine.
A moment later, I could hear him settling in. The fridge opened - a can removed, cracked, he plopped down on the couch it sounded like. Within a minute or two, he was playing YouTube videos on my TV. I guess he could have found my Apple TV but I suspected he had opted for the HDMI cable I keep loose, dangling from the TV. What was he watching? Andrew Tate. Joe Rogan. Today's real influencers. After half an hour I had dispatched with all but the last handful of math equations, the timbre of the sound downstairs changed...
"Uuuuuuuhhhh...Uuhhhhh...yeeeesssss...fuck that pussy, baby. YESSSS. YEEEEESSSSSS." I could hear it clear as day upstairs, Ian had increased the volume to nearly full-blast, making it difficult to focus on the work. My neighbors could surely hear it. I opened the door and walked a few steps down the stairs to call to him.
"Hey, can you turn that down?!" I implored.
"What's that???" I heard in return.
I continued down the stairs until I had line of sight and was immediately taken aback. There he was, completely naked, absorbed. On my couch, the first signs of sweat emanating from his pores affording his skin a little added softness, the humidity already wafting its way upstairs. On the table in front of him, four beer cans, PBRs from my personal stash. Three kicked and the tabs tore off, the fourth - still going I guess. I couldn't see the TV but I've seen enough straight porn to know what it was from the sound. He had the thin, boyish fingers of his right hand wrapped around his six-plus inches, moving quickly up and down. He seemed mesmerized - completely focused on the big screen. Breathing heavily. He finally noticed me.
"You finish?," Ian shouted, eyes still forward.
"Almost." I was straining to speak louder than the television.
"Whaaaaat's that?"
"ALMOOOOOST," giving it my best attempt now.
He stabbed at the remote with his free hand, still focused on the television, and mercifully turned the volume down low enough to talk without shouting. He was really struggling to juggle any task that wasn't making his dick feel good at this exact moment.
"What do you mean, almost?" he asked.
"I've got like three of the math problems left, man. Five more minutes, max."
"See you in five minutes then," his terse reply as he chuckled.
I began to explain the volume he had his videos at was making it difficult to concentrate on the homework, but as I stammered he jammed the volume up button on the remote again, drowning me out quickly enough to realize what a futile effort it was. I may as well have not been standing there at all. My dick moved a little in my shorts, and I wasn't exactly sure if it was watching him stroke his perfect cock or the pure arrogance of being ignored in my own home that did it. I retreated back upstairs and I swear he looked in my direction for the briefest of moments just as I was turning away.
I was down to the last problem and struggling with its more advanced difficulty. The sounds of Ian's porn was pounding in my brain and I was working hard to grab decades-old concepts from the deep recesses of my memory and increasingly stressed that every second that went by made it more likely someone would walk by my house and think of me as some kind of super perv. I'm not gonna lie, I kind of bullshitted the answer. I just wanted it done. I clicked submit and gulped. The surreality of the moment was hitting.
Upon heading back downstairs Ian was engrossed now in a new video. A petite brunette with small tits had one hand on the base of a throbbing, rigid, 8-inch member with her mouth working the rest. She seemed like such a pro, occasionally moving down to suck on the man's big, egg-like balls, a thick smuckering sound emanating whenever one would leave her lips. Things then suddenly turned more aggressive. The man grabbed her head with both hands and began forcefully moving it up and down his cock at a rapid pace. His moans suddenly became grunts. It was as if he was releasing his pent-up anger on her face, sometimes holding it against his crotch, himself now fully thrust into her throat, and holding it there for what seemed like an eternity, only to release her to immediate gasps for breath. But damnit if she didn't seem to love it.
The volume turned down suddenly.
"Pretty hot right?"
I was startled by the interruption. Ian was looking at me intently now, his eyes moving down to my tented shorts and back up again. I must have been standing there watching this for at least a minute or two.
Ian continued unprompted. "Honestly, dude. It's videos like this that make me think I like blowjobs better than the real thing."
I never liked talking about sex with my friends, if for no other reason than because it would expose how little I knew about it. I instinctively tried to change the subject.
"For sure, dude...ummm... I'm all done with your homework, by the way."
"Hell yeah, man." Ian was still sitting there, naked, hand on dick, now unmistakenly sweaty. "Hey, grab me another beer will ya. You can have one too."
I can have one too? Like I need his fucking permission. I bought the damn beer. But whatever, I did want one, and frankly, I didn't want to let him down. Ian was so much more advanced than me than I was at his age. Drinking. Sex. Shit, I could only dream of then. He was the kind of kid I would bend over backward to try to be friends with in high school. Those feelings were coming back the more I hung out with him. Like somehow checking that box would validate me as a better person.
"Sure man. I gotcha." I grabbed two more PBRs from the fridge and headed back over, handing him one.
"Crack it for me. I'm busy."
I hesitated for a moment, but cracked both and set it next to his empties. I would have bothered with a coaster but I could already see stains on the wood from where the other beers had been. I instinctively winced, and then sat down in the chair next to him.
"You've got some catching up to do. Let's see you chug it," Ian said before chuckling.
I hadn't chugged a beer since college, and I wasn't especially good at it then, but here I was, the strong instinct to want to impress this child taking over. To do as he says.
I began sucking it down.
"Hell yeah, buddy," he offered as encouragement. "Chug that shit."
I struggled to do it in a single go, coughing and gagging at a couple of points, but I got it down. I let out a belch and immediately became embarrassed to do it in front of company once the realization set in, but whatever, it was too late. I felt a little woozy from the lack of oxygen.
"Do it again," Ian commanded.
"I dunno, man. I'm honestly not the biggest drinker."
"C'mon. I've had at least three more than you. Don't be a fucking pussy."
That was all the encouragement I needed. I was primed to say yes. I grabbed another beer and chugged it right there in the kitchen, visible to Ian on the couch, who looked on with a smirk. The practice afforded by the first beer was all I needed to dispatch it with ease.
"There you go, mother fucker. Now grab another to sip on and sit down."
By now the alcohol was doing its work. Not helping was the fact that I hadn't eaten dinner yet, nor the head rush from the chug. I needed a sit after all.
I did as he instructed.
"Your turn to pick," Ian said. "What'll it be. Anal? A threesome? That fucking stepsister shit??"
"I dunno, man. The blowjob shit works for me."
"You're the boss," Ian said with a wry smile, quickly pulling up another video he seemingly had on speed-dial. Faded from two quick drinks, it took me a moment to catch up. Suddenly on my television, I was watching a youngish, cherubic boy, older than Ian, maybe 20, someone who clearly put some time in at the gym, cut but not too big, standing tall and looking at the sky in ecstasy, moaning. Below him, on their knees, a skinny runt, completely hairless from the neck down, older looking but not by much, sucking the boy's dick with reckless abandon, their own cock standing at attention. The realization hit hard.
"Waaaait a mi...what the fuck dude?"
"Shut the fuck up. This ain't anything you haven't done, haha. Just watch. You'll enjoy this," Ian retorted, his hand seemingly grabbing his own cock even harder as he pumped up and down.
I'm no stranger to twink porn, but I hadn't seen this one. I said nothing as I returned my gaze to the screen. There I continued to watch as the younger boy escalated his abuse.
"You like sucking this cock, faggot?" he said as the older boy did his best to take all eight inches presented to him.
"Yes"
"Yes, WHAT?"
"Yes, s...Sir"
"That's it fag."
My dick now being rock hard was hard to hide, and without realizing I started rubbing myself through my shorts. Just enough to enhance the viewing experience. Ian's voice suddenly punctured my focus.
"Clothes off now, fucker. Only fair."
It was true. Here he was, comfortable in his own skin in front of me for minutes now. But the idea of stripping naked in front of him assaulted every instinct in my body. Not just because he was underage and the trappings of that, but I was the kind of kid who shuttled off to a quiet corner of the locker room when changing in high school. It bothered me to my core to be naked in front of other men.
"C'mon dude. Don't leave me hanging here."
I hated feeling like such a weak shit. The slightest protest so easily quelled by this boy's insistence. But I knew, as he did, it's what I wanted, both to make the masturbation easier and to obey his order. Without another word, I stood up and began to strip awkwardly. It felt good and bad and weird for such different reasons, but I continued, the desire to please Ian slowly invading my consciousness. A moment later I was nude. I sat down and without thinking grabbed all of my five inches as I continued watching without either of us saying a word. What I saw on the television was truly shocking to someone still stuck on the endless chasm that is hot, skinnny, twinks having vanilla sex. The younger boy was forcing the sub up and down his cock, pulling him off of him every so often for air.
SMACK
He brought his hand across the sub's face, the sub emitting a guttural cry that could have been interpreted as equal parts pain, surprise, and pleasure. Before the sub could even react, the younger boy grabbed his hair again with both hands and started slamming his face down on him, holding the sub against his will with his cock breaching the furthest netherregions of the victim's throat. The alcohol continuing to take effect made it all the more comfortable for me to work my cock. Watching this sub, just a few years my junior, getting dominated was getting me harder than I can ever remember being. It was unlocking something inside me and I didn't care about anything else but stroking myself in that moment.
CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEK
Wait, that sound was from here. Distracted, I looked over at Ian. He had just used his foot to kick forward the coffee table in front of him, the one holding the computer hosting the video we were watching together, the one preventing anyone from kneeling in front of him. The space made, Ian made his intentions crystal clear.
"You're next mother fucker."
The beer had dulled my resolve, but I was still lucid enough to understand what was happening. The gooner mentality that took over my brain in the two sessions prior was now absent, hardened by experience and the few days I had to contemplate my situation. But I couldn't deny the intense desire I was feeling in that moment, if only I could excise the risk.
"No phone," is all I said. Ian chuckled slightly, almost as if he respected the foresight I was showing then He bent forward to grab his phone off the table and without having an ideal spot to stash it, he leaned over to the opposite side of the couch and stuffed it under the opposite cushion. Not completely out of reach, but impossible to grab without me knowing.
"Good?" he asked. I nodded.
"On your fucking knees then."
It was all the permission I needed. I dropped down and moved to the few feet to be below him. Without warning he violently grabbed my hair with both hands, leaned in, and pulled me within inches of his face. His smooth lips being so close to mine was intoxicating. It took every inch of my self-restraint in that state to not bring my mouth to his, to take my shot.
HHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKK
Fucking gross. From his mouth spewed a large ball of spit and phlegm that landed on my left eye, forcing me to shut it and recoil in shock and personal hurt. Reeling from the embarrassment, I instinctively used my fingers to displace as much of his gooey solution as I could in hopes of being able to at least return to stereo sight. Just as I was doing that...
WWWWWHAAAAACK
The sting of his hand cascaded against the opposite side of my face, compounding the shame, pain, and humiliation.
"ARE YOU A LITTLE FAGGOT?" Ian asked, my brain unable to comprehend the power shift happening.
"uhmmmmm, whha.."
SMMMMMMAAAAAACKKKKK
The other side of my face now joined the first in its sting. Ian seemed suddenly a boy possessed and I could barely keep up.
"I saaaaidd...are you a little faggot?"
Now reeling from pain - tipsy, confused, horny, lustful, emasculated.
"Yeeesss"
"YES?!?! You saw the same video I did. Yes, what, mother fucker??"
"Yesss. Yes, SIR"
The humiliation of calling this boy "Sir" was overwhelming. I am twice his age. I make good money. Society says I should be so much further ahead. But here I was, on my knees, admitting fealty to this little cocky shit.
"Say it again, faggot."
"Yeeesss, YES SIR!"
"Goooood boy", he murmured as he brought my mouth back down on his pulsating, six-inch cock. Ian, lost in alcohol, adrenaline, and ecstasy showed zero mercy. Pain emanated from my head where he grabbed my hair in giant locks. The sounds coming from my mouth made by him entering and exiting my throat, me desperate for air but more desperate for him were humbling, to say the least. I couldn't help but think of my friends, who would disown me in a heartbeat if they could only see what I had suddenly become. We all have our secrets but this - I couldn't imagine anyone I knew being this depraved. I was on an island to myself.
A few moments later it was over. Ian had been priming himself for nearly an hour now, ready to blow when the time was right. He was so deep in my throat I couldn't even taste it. I could only feel the slime moving down my esophagus and into my stomach. Pump after pump. The mere thought making me gag despite my senses being deprived of the usual offensive odor, smell, and taste. I coughed up some of his semen.
"What about that video?" I asked meekly, still thinking clearly enough to have concerns about my long-term well-being.
"What about it?"
"You're gonna delete it right?"
"The fuck are you talking about?"
"You...you said you would delete it if I did your homework?"
Ian laughed. "No, dipshit. You think what I have on you is worth one night of homework? Fuck off, man. No, you're doing my homework for the rest of the summer."
Have on me? A torrent of butterflies formed immediately in my stomach with the sudden realization that Ian was no longer winging this. He knew exactly the power he had over me. And now he sees exactly what he can do with that. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and now he has a taste for it.
"Do you understand, fag?"
"Wha?" Still a bit dazed.
"TELL ME YOU UNDERSTAND, FAGGOT!" he barked.
I was genuinely scared at that moment, he was a different person drunk.
"Yes, Sir," I managed to muster.
"LOUDER, DIPSHIT! I WANT THE NEIGHBORS TO HEAR YOU!"
"YES, SIR!" I yelled, disturbed by my instinctive desire to follow Ian's order.
"Fucking pathetic. Now get out of my face."
I turned and walked up the stairs, closing the door to my bedroom behind me. I laid down in bed with my world spinning around me. It could have been the alcohol I suppose, but far more likely, it was the knowledge that this was just the beginning...