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WBPBMS_3 What Began Playfully Became More Serious_ PART THREE
FIRST CONTACT
He was asleep on his back. I, spread eagle on his chest. We were that close that I could feel his breathing. Some time he woke up hard in the night; he quickly ejaculated between my legs and fell back to sleep so that his sperm spread between our bodies and stuck us together.
First thing he did in the morning was he fucked me again. But it was like he was still asleep because he just came onto me, pushed my face into the bed and hammer fucked me. When he came with a long slow grunt he lay on me for a long time, his heart racing took ages to calm down. Then he just pulled out and got up. He said to make coffee and toast while he showered. I wandered round the flat. It felt strange to explore his kitchen like it was another aspect of his body. He reappeared, sat on a stool, wearing a towelling robe which he adjusted occasionally, and watched me, smiling playfully, pointing out cupboards and equipment when I got confused. And as I stood there preparing his breakfast, his cum was dribbling down the leg of my shorts.
"You're a great fuck. Good fun. I feel like I'm really emptying my balls when I cum in you," said Joseph. "Me too," I said "Yeah?" He seemed surprised and pleased. "I feel like I should be pleasing you," he said, "it's like my job as your top to make you satisfied and craving for my prick." "I am, I said. Do you like being dominant?" "Yes I do. Do you like being submissive?" We were talking so childishly! "It's my way I suppose. I like it when a guy knows what he wants and what he is doing." "I like being top. I like to be in control of things. I like to feel my power flow into another man and feel him receive it gratefully. I suppose. Deep inside him." "We are suited to each other," I said. "In that sense, I suppose we are. But it's only sex. I'm looking for something more. Aren't you?" "I don't know." "I think you are." "Why?" "Cause everybody is."
We sat - well, he sat, drinking the coffee and eating the toast which he shared with me, a single cup and a single plate; I stood, cum dribbling down my legs, watching him eat. I enjoyed that he let me eat what he was eating and drink what he was drinking; it made me feel even more special. He drew attention to crumbs on my face. I stood in front of him in my underwear. "Your shorts ride up between your legs and outline your buttocks perfectly," he said eyeing me as he finished, wiping crumbs from his face and then running a finger through my moustache. Standing, winding his arms around me, he stroked the shiny silk covering my hairy skin and smiled as though he was thinking something. A secret. Then he gave me a gentle spank. I felt it. "Don't worry," he said, grinning, "Your pain is not my pain." I didn't know what that meant.
He rubbed my chest and stomach through my vest, with his palm, like I was a statue he had found in the beach ... "Hmmm you got terrific shape, abs, pecs. This." His finger slid, found my bellybutton and poked it, seeking fluff. I looked down, then I looked at his chest. "So have you," I said, stupidly. "What I like about you, your trust and passivity. You were like that at school. Do you remember?" "Sort of. We didn't do anything." "You were a bit distant. But I used to fantasise." "You did?" "All the things I'd like to do." "Did we flirt? I trusted you, I suppose. I trusted your friendship." "All the things I'd like to do to you. I liked your smile. Do you still trust me?" "I suppose so. You're still the same." "Am I?" "You haven't changed," I said, grinning. "Oh, I've changed," he said. "I've changed, for definitely." He was suddenly very serious. "Are you for real?" I asked. "Oh I am very much for real," he said. "And you know it ... the things I'd like to do ..." (Our cocks, not hard, but still swollen, were visible through our clothes and when he rubbed against me, they touched.) "Hmmm you got terrific shape," he said again. "Much better than when you were at school. You were a bit podgy then. You liked your books. Still do?" "Yeah, but I've found out that weights and cardio," I said, "keeping fit, exercise and good physical shape, sharpens the intellect." "And gets you laid!" he laughed, "didn't seem to work with our classmates' intellects; the more sporty and outgoing they were the more mentally cramped they seemed. Those retards. That's why I always liked you: intelligent and thoughtful always; just a bit too thoughtful sometimes." "You were one of them," I said, "one of the retards!" He momentarily went red and I saw his jawline tighten. His face was close to mine. "I don't want to think about it." "Long time ago," I said. "Still, keep it up. A good body's a good fuck, I say," he said promisingly. He said, "I like your style. You stand up straight." I stood. "Stand up straight." I stood up straight; it didn't sound like an order. "I like telling you to stand up straight. Let's get them clothes off." He helped me remove my vest. I dropped my shorts and lifted a leg to remove them. He fondled my buttock as I did so and touched my wet hole with his fingertips. "I do stand up straight," I said. "Not always when I tell you. Like now. I'm telling you."
I pushed out my chest. I was proud of my body and I wanted to show it off. My pecs were pronounced, my arms were strong, my back was broad, I had a thick but flexible waist, my stomach was covered in smooth, softly rounded squares like a pillow. I clasped my hands behind my back, sort of automatically. "That's good. You got such a great body. Great development. I like looking at it. I've let myself go a little bit." "No you haven't!" "Well, that's an odd thing to say. I say one thing and you just contradict me. Especially when we both know it's true." "You look great!" "Yeah. But your body makes me want to do things to you. Stand up straight then. Stand up straight!" "I am standing up straight." "No you're not. Jeez. Expand your chest, square your shoulders, lift your head, harden your legs, stick out your arse, feel it in your spine. Look, put your hands behind your head, it'll help." I tried to do all of those things. With my hands behind my head and my elbows pointed out I could feel the difference and wondered how it looked. "A bit better. Practice." I relaxed. "No, practice." "You what?" "Practice it now. Do it now. Look, just practice standing up. I'm coming back in a few minutes and when I do I'd really like to see some improvement ..." He left the room. I was left standing, trying to think what was going on. Then I just sort of automatically stood as he had told me and tried to get my posture right - Or what he thought right. It had made me hard to be talked at like that. He had ignored my dick, but it was pointing up now and I couldn't stop thinking I'd like to touch myself. I held my hands behind my head and stretched so that I was in correct posture. Then I waited.
I was about to release my hands and touch my dick when I heard a noise behind me and he re-entered the room. He walked behind me and put his arms round me and felt my chest, smoothing it down, making every fingertip impress the pert buds of my nipples. Breathing into my neck he squeezed my waist and then held my biceps to get their width. "That's good." He stepped back and ran his hands over my arms, my shoulders, my back and then my buttocks which he patted and squeezed like fruit at the supermarket. "A bit better." I was super excited. I loved to feel ahis judgement. "Do you like what you see?" I said, fishing shamelessly. "It's ok. It really is. But I'd like to see you do more. This is good but you can do a lot better I think. With work." Face to face and my hands on my head, he put his arms round me and slid his hands down my back until they rested on my buttocks and just sort of patted them again. "Nice dimples," he said thoughtfully. I liked being in that position; a thing he held, his hands just gently exploring and enjoying my body, and his skin and his erection touching me. He seemed to like my bottom best. He was breathing slowly and deeply. "Hmmmm I'd really like to do things to you. Do you..." he said, "do you like being spanked? I laughed, "I don't know ... yes?" "You never tried it?" I grinned. "What do you mean? It's a bit kinky isn't it? What are you talking about? I mean, not hard-core. That's a bit kinky." "Is it? Oh come on! not really." "You into that?" "I dunno. I guess. Your arse just sort of begs for it you know. It's just that I'd like to. When I stroke it. Your cheeks are so plump and pale and I could make them all red and pretty ... So yeah, I'd just like to, you know, just a little bit." He tapped my buttocks gently as though that's all there is to it. "D'y'like that?" "I don't know," I said stupidly. He patted my cheeks a few times and then slapped them a little harder - even making a little sound and I felt it. He grinned. "See. It's nice. Did that hurt?" "No." "Again?" "Yeah, I guess if you want." He slapped my cheeks a couple more times. It didn't hurt. We both laughed. It made me aware of my arse in a new way and also aware of letting him do something to me that wasn't fucking me or petting me, but might hurt and that he needed my trust. He was looking at my face. "You ok?" "Yeasupposeso. Is that how it's supposed to be done?" "What do you mean?" I mean I knew what spanking is, but I wanted him to take the lead, "Aren't I supposed to lie across your knees like a naughty schooler or something?" He smiled. "Oh yeah. Well, we could. I could sit here." He sat on a dining chair. "You kneel and then lie across my knees." He was hard as fuck. "What about that?" I pointed at his erection. "I'll hold it out of the way. Let you rest your weight there. It'll feel good." He put his hand over his cock whilst I knelt and then leaned forward and kind of clambered over his knees which were spread to present a kind of level to support my middle.
I felt a lot silly because I'm, like, a man and he's, like, a man and we're more or less the same size more or less and I was just lying over his knees like some naughty kid. It was silly, but I was so into it. It's mad because it's stupid really. So even before he started spanking me I felt kinda idiotic but at the same time I wanted to do it. I just liked that we were doing something kinky like that and it wasn't as if I asked him to spank me out of the blue and he thought I was strange. It was his suggestion! And he was going to spank me. And I wanted it!
My bottom was cool and exposed. He immediately started stroking me and smoothing me like he was making a bed for his hand to lie on, gently smoothing and stroking then patting and then slapping me harder but not very hard. "S'that ok?" "Yeah," I said. I was staring at his feet. "Want more?" "Yeah," I said. "Harder?" "Yeah, otherwise what's the point?" "Ok then," he laughed. His hardon was pushed against me so I could constantly feel it, and my cock was hard too, bobbing and occasionally touching his leg. SLAP! "Wouch!" I said and would have squirmed except that he had his other hand on my upper back and neck and was just steadying me. "S'ok. I got ya." He rubbed my bottom quickly. "Ok?" "Mm yeah," I said. "Ready?" "Yeah." "Hard?" "Yeah," I said, not ready yet when SLAP! and SLAP! "How's that?" "That hurt!" I said. "Well, it's a spank," he said, "it's supposed to hurt, otherwise what's the point?" He laughed "You ok?" "Yeah." I decided I'd concentrate on his feet. He had beautiful feet. His hand rubbing my bottom made it feel better and had the strange effect of making me crave the next stroke. "You like it?" "Yeah it's not bad. It's fine." SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! He held my neck fast. Three strikes in quick succession had me squirming and squealing. He immediately administered his stroking hand, rubbing the sore parts and saying, "Shh, shhhhh. That's good. You're ok. Had enough?" He kissed my neck I hadn't had enough. "No. I'm fine." I wanted even more now. "More?" "Yeah. Ok." "Harder?" "Yeah, I think so." I lifted my arse to give him more of a target. I found myself craving it. It was an oddly gratifying feeling in itself, desiring to be hurt ... "Your bottom's gone pink," he said, smoothing it, holding my neck in a very firm grip and SLAP!!! S-LAAP!!! SS-LLAAPP!! "FUCK!!" I screamed. "Fuck! No! Stop!" "You don't want me to stop do you? Your bottom's gone bright red. It's so cute. Does it hurt still?" He was rubbing super hard and squeezing the pain out of me. "Yeah! Fuck. It does. That fucking does." "One more?" I took a deep breath but just as I was about to answer he landed a huge forcefull slap on my buttocks that hurt so much I thought I was going to die. "FUUUUUK MAN! Stop! Let me go!" "Hey, hey, hey," he said. "Hold on. I'll stop. You did well. Come on, let me kiss it better." He kissed my buttocks - which didn't make any difference, but it was nice. I was twisting in his arms, frightened that he was going to hit me some more, and harder. "Don't do it any more," I said, struggling. "Please. Just stop." "Hey there," he said, "I liked that, but hey, don't worry, I'll stop. I'll stop. You ask me nicely, I'll stop." "Owweeee that hurts." "It's just a bit of fun." "Just fucking stop!" "Ask me nicely." He held me down with strong arms so that I literally I couldn't move. I wanted him to hurt me more, but also the hurt had me shaking and resentful. He had me in a grip that made it difficult to resist, had he wanted to inflict me with more. "Just, ask nicely," he said. "Please," I said, trying to remain calm, "please stop now. It hurts. Please stop." What did he want? He patted my bottom and kissed my back, in the hollow between my shoulder blades, then let me get up; he held onto my arms and pulled me towards him into a hug. "That was fun," he said. "That was nice. Wasn't it?" "It hurt." "I know it did. But it was ..." He kissed my face and held onto my buttocks where they hurt. "... exciting wasn't it?" It was. We were both super excited and I returned his kisses with a hunger I hadn't felt before. "I'd really like to fuck you now," he said. "Yeah yeah," I said, desperately wanting it. Without realising it I was becoming more and more hungry for his attention, more and more hungry for his cock. He became suddenly serious. "I like that you think you have a meaningful choice now you are my boyfriend." "Boyfriend?" I said. He was very serious. He squeezed my balls tight. "Does that hurt?" "A bit." "That's nice." He sat me down on the couch. Was I his boyfriend already?
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END OF What Began Playfully Became More Serious - PART THREE