This story involves sex between guys. If you shouldn't be reading stuff like that, move on. In this story, the characters don't use condoms. In the real world, anybody who doesn't practice safe sex is a menace to himself and society. Don't be a menace. It's okay to print this story out or save it to a disc, but don't transfer it to another website or archive without my permission, please.
Thanks to TW for doing the beta reading here.
Again, thanks to Al for suggesting some of the things that happen in this chapter.
Lilperv76@yahoo.com
Chapter 9
[MC = Mike Cronin; JC = James Cronin SW = Seth Watkins]
MC:
I didn't see Marcy again. I got an email from her the following week saying while she didn't have anything against gays and watching Jason and me get it on was hot, she just didn't want to date a gay guy. I wondered if she'd ever heard the term "bisexual." She told me she hoped Jason and I would be happy together.
What was I going to do? Seth would shit a brick if I told her he was blackmailing Jase and me. Besides, I wasn't sure at that point whether I'd have been willing to give up having sex with other guys just to remain Marcy's boyfriend. So I emailed her back, apologized for the surprise of it all, and managed to suggest that Seth was behind everything without ever accusing him specifically of anything. I wished her well.
The following week Seth made Jase and me rehearse each evening. He had us doing our routine to Ravel's "Bolero." Jason was to be the master, and I was the slave. Seth made us practice the whole thing wearing jocks and our slave collars. He always made us take a Viagra before we rehearsed. He told us we'd have "costumes," but he didn't show them to us. That week, though, he told us Friday was performance day, and he made me do my part blindfolded. He'd gotten me a new, wider collar, and I was to be led in by a leash attached to it.
The routine got Jason and me so hot I didn't think we needed the Viagra, but Seth insisted. It was really frustrating because neither of us got off. By the time we came to our finale and the music finished, both our cocks were hot, hard, sticking up out of our jocks, and leaking. But Seth wouldn't let us come. On Tuesday night after practice, we drove to a local make-out place and Jason fucked me in the back seat of my car. (It's just as awkward as everybody says it is, by the way.) Then he sucked me off and we went to our separate homes.
The next night, however, Jason forgot himself and said something to Seth which pissed him off. When we had gone through our routine enough that Seth was satisfied, he made us go over and fool around on the pool table while he took some stills for our website. Then he handed me a tube of 4Play and told me to put some in Jason's ass. Then he handed me a pool cue and made me fuck Jason with the blunt end while he took more pictures. Then he took off his cargoes and climbed up on the table, where he fucked Jase both ways, on all fours and on his back. I was supposed to diddle myself and cum at the same time he did. It was hard holding back because I got so hot watching the two of them. I almost made it. In fact, when I began to make noises as I felt my orgasm beginning, I think that set off Seth, so he dumped a load of jizz into Jase just after I came. By now I knew what to do. I caught my cum in my hand and then ate it. Seth shoved a butt plug in Jason's ass and told him to keep it there until rehearsal the next night.
When Friday night came, we went to Seth's about 9:00. He made us both shave each other all over, and I had to do Jason's head and eyebrows for him. He made us both wear blindfolds so we wouldn't know where we were going, and he took us in his car to where we were to do our "act." We were wearing our slut outfits, the cut off tees, the raggedy cut off jeans, and the work boots.
When we stopped, he got us out of the car. "Hey, Seth, this is tonight's entertainment?"
Seth chuckled. "Yeah, man, and I think your friends are gonna love it."
"Well, we can't argue about the price, but these guys are expecting a good show. I hope these amateurs can live up to their expectations."
"I don't think you'll be sorry."
With that we were led into a building of some sort. When we got inside, Seth took off our blindfolds. We were in what looked like a library or good-sized study. There was a big walnut desk at one end, lots of leather chairs in brown, and books all along three of the walls. The other wall had a large window with those diamond shaped panes. It was dark by then, and I couldn't see what was outside. I could guess, though, that we were in the home of someone with a lot of money.
Seth told us to strip. Then he gave us our costumes. Mine consisted of my collar, which I already had on, a black leather jockstrap, my nip rings with their connecting chain, and a leather hood. He had me try the hood on to get used to it, and then let me take it off until time to go onstage. There were small holes by the ears, so I could hear. There were nose holes. There was a larger hole for my mouth, so that my lips would show. But the eye holes were closed. I breathed a sigh of relief. I would be anonymous. No one would know who I was.
Jason was to wear black leather chaps which had a removable pouch for his tackle and was open in the back so his butt showed. He had a black leather chest harness and a Lone Ranger type black leather mask. He, too, was barefoot.
Seth gave us each our pills. Then he gave each of us a glass of what turned out to be straight scotch.
"This is to loosen you up, boys. You've rehearsed this thing enough that you should be able to do a good job. Don't worry about the audience. Just get into what you're doing. But, Mikey, there's one thing I haven't told you about. There's a special guest at this affair tonight. When the dance part of your show is over, Jason will lead you over to this guy.
"Jason, I'll point him out to you before you two go on. And when Mike is standing in front of him, put your hand on his shoulder. Then, Mike, that's your cue to drop to your knees. You reach up, find the guy's fly. Open up his pants and unzip them. Then, if he doesn't raise his ass so you can pull down his boxers or briefs or whatever, you pull his cock out of his shorts and give him the best blowjob you know how to do. When the guy comes, swallow it. Then you say, `Thank you, master,' and Jason will lead you back here."
"Cronin, you got it?"
"Yeah, I got it."
"Kinsey, got it?"
"Yes."
After we'd been there about a half an hour, a guy stuck his head in the door and said "Show time!"
JC:
First of all, you should know this. I wasn't lying when I told Mike I had never been unfaithful to his mother. That doesn't mean, however, that I'm dead or that I don't get hard when I see a nice looking guy. I just wanted to establish that I've looked and admired and enjoyed, but I've never even touched, except for the one kiss with Darren that was so unfortunately photographed.
I had been aware of the Cadre, as they called themselves, for several years. It was a closely-knit and secretive group of movers and shakers in the city. I had heard other things about them, too. They got together one Friday night a month and played poker. Then, according to the rumors, they had some sort of entertainment. No one who was passing the rumors on to me had ever been there, so it was all purely hearsay. They weren't telling me about this, I hasten to say, in my capacity as District Attorney. This was just office scuttlebutt.
I was getting ready to go home late one afternoon. It had been a rare slow day for us, and I was looking forward to a cold shower and a nice scotch before dinner. Just as I was closing my briefcase, which contained the usual stuff I had to look through after dinner, Gerry Bowman came in and asked if I had a minute.
Gerry, an assistant DA, had always been ambitious. I think he wanted my job, but he did his so well, I had no complaints. When I left office I thought he'd be a good replacement, in fact. He was just a little pushy, sometimes, for my taste.
I gestured him to a chair. "As the kids say, Gerry, `What's up?'"
"We're all eager to get out of here, Jim, so I won't keep you long. And this isn't an office matter."
"Okay."
"Have you heard of a group called `The Cadre'?"
"Yeah, who hasn't?"
"You know they play poker one Friday night a month?"
"Yeah, that's what I've heard."
"You're a poker player, aren't you?"
"Well, I used to do it a lot in college and even in law school. But I haven't played much lately."
"I don't think you forget how to play poker. It's like riding a bike."
"I suppose you're right. Now, Gerry, what's this all about?"
"I've been asked to invite you to a meeting of the Cadre this Friday evening. You'd be the special guest, and I can tell you that I expect you'll be invited to join."
"You're a member?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"I never knew that."
"Well, that's not something we broadcast."
"That's interesting. So why me?"
"Well, these guys are all pretty influential people around town. Their poker isn't played for money. It's just an excuse to relax, have some drinks, have a little fun."
"And trade favors?"
"Honestly, Jim, I don't think that's why you were invited to sit in Friday, if that's what you're thinking. I've been a member for three years. I'm the youngest guy there, by the way. And not once has anyone ever tried to take advantage of my being in this office."
"Okay, let me ask you again. Why me?"
"Some friends of yours are members. They would like you to join the fun."
"What kind of fun?"
"Well, here's where it gets sticky. You have to promise me not to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you. The Cadre guards its privacy pretty carefully, and I wouldn't have approached you if I didn't think I could count on your discretion."
"So long as you aren't going to tell me about anything illegal, I'll promise to keep mum about anything I hear."
He gave me a reproachful look. "Jim, I'm a member of the bar and of the DA's staff. You know me well enough to know that I wouldn't try to lure you into anything illegal or even tell you about things you'd have to do something about in your official capacity. Okay?"
I relaxed and grinned. "Sorry about that, Gerry. It goes with the job, I guess."
He smiled back and said, "Tell me about it." Then he continued, "Our guys enjoy playing cards, having a few drinks, exchanging ideas and sometimes information. It's a time to kick back and forget the work week. You'll be surprised who you see there. A judge. A member of the city council. Several doctors and a dentist. A prominent architect. People in high profile, high pressure jobs."
"I see."
"The whole evening is to let guys kick back, relax, and just be guys. After the cards, we usually have some sort of entertainment."
"Like what?"
"Well, sometimes a really primo porn video. Once in a while we get in some "live" entertainment."
"God, don't tell me it turns into an orgy!"
He held up his hands in a placating way. "No, Jim, nothing like that. The only time the members ever touch a guest is occasionally to stuff money into a stripper's g-string . . . or jock. So, big guy, what do you say? Wanna give it a try?"
"Did you say `jock'?"
He grinned again. "Yeah. We have diverse tastes, so our entertainment is sometimes female, sometimes male."
He looked him straight in the eye. "Is this some sort of gay club?"
"No, not really. A couple of the members are gay. Several are bi, I think. Some are straight, I know, but they are also pretty flexible about what they like to watch."
"No strings, right? I won't be pressured to join the group if I decide it's not for me?"
"Absolutely no strings. Just come and be with us Friday, and then we'll see what happens. I think I can promise you a memorable evening. After a pause, he continued, "So, the other guys and I would really like you to check us out. What do you say?"
I took a deep breath and, against my better judgment, said, "Sure. I think that sounds interesting. When and where?"
"I'll pick you up at your house at 8:00, okay? Oh, and this is very informal. Jeans or khakis are fine, but no shorts."
"Sure."
Friday night came. Gerry took me to a section of town where the very wealthy lived. When we arrived at a large tudor-style house, we were greeted by Harvey Blakemore, a legal colleague, senior member of a large downtown firm. Reminding me to call him Harve, he took me into a huge room off the foyer and introduced me to the others. I'd say there were about fifteen men there, all my age or older except for Gerry, who is a half dozen years younger than me, say in his late thirties. I already knew some of them casually, and I knew who all of them were. They were very friendly.
After the introductions, Harvey took me to a bar recessed in one wall of the room and asked me what I wanted to drink. I asked for and got my usual Talisker.
The conversation was light, lively, fascinating. These were interesting guys, obviously comfortable together. There was a camaraderie among them that I sensed immediately. It would be nice, I thought, to be a part of a group like this. I wondered if it was perhaps the second scotch, but I also noticed that they were all very good looking guys. I suppose it was important in their respective professions, but they all obviously worked out or played sports to keep themselves trim.
As the evening wore on, I was glad they didn't play for money. They would have cleaned me out. They were convivial, but they were sharks about their poker. I was obviously the all-round loser by the time we quit, and I took some good-natured ribbing about that.
"Gentlemen, please get refills for your drinks before the entertainment begins," Harve said. There was a general movement toward the bar. I thought at the time two scotches were enough, but Gerry handed me another. Then he held his glass up to clink it against mine, and I had a swallow of the whisky. I thanked him and turned around to see what would happen next.
At the opposite end of the room, a couple of guys, not members of the group, obviously, were arranging comfortable chairs in two semicircles around a cleared area that would obviously serve as a stage. When they were finished, Harve said to me, "Jim, since you're the guest of honor tonight, we want you to sit front row center." He led me to a chair and gestured for me to sit down. Then he said, quietly, "Seats, please, gentlemen." Gerry sat on my left and Harve on my right.
As the others took their seats, the lights dimmed so that only the "stage" area was brightly lit. Then from speakers that must have been all around the room came the quiet opening strains of Ravel's "Bolero."
SW:
As I sat "backstage" with Cronin and Kinsey, waiting for them to do their routine, I couldn't help gloating. It had all worked out perfectly. I had let that toady Bowman think I was acting on orders from my dad. Bowman had always been Dad's mole in the DA's office, so it was easy enough to make him think that while the `rents were away on their cruise I was in charge.
Mike and Jason had, I must say, learned the routine to perfection. I was proud of myself for thinking up the whole thing, and really pleased that they had gotten so good at performing it.
And now here we were. My dad's nemesis, James Cronin, District Attorney, was sitting out there, totally unaware that his career was about to be over. He'd not be making things difficult for Watkins Enterprises, Inc. any more. I was going to take pictures of him and Mike, and those pictures, once we established that the guy in the hood was Mike, would ruin Cronin in this city. Maybe mean he'd lose his right to practice law. It was all working out perfectly! My old man was going to be so proud of me!
JC:
Just after the music established the mood, entering from our left came two guys, neither more than twenty, I'd guess, though I couldn't see their faces for reasons which I'll explain in a moment. I made a mental note to check with Harve and make sure the boys were both at least 18, but then I realized he wouldn't risk everything he had at stake to use underage boys in a situation like that.
The first guy, 5'9" or so, had his head shaved. He was wearing a leather chest harness and black leather chaps. His genitals were enclosed in a sort of zipper pouch, and, as we were soon to discover, his ass ware bare. He had on a black mask of the sort one might wear to a masked ball. It hid enough of his face to disguise his identity, but didn't cover his mouth. My cock twitched as soon as I saw him. His arms, chest and pits had no hair. His lithe body was nicely tanned, even his beautiful ass.
But the second guy was the one who really took my eye. He was being led by a leash fastened to a slave collar. Two or three inches taller than the first guy, he had a slightly more muscular upper body. He, too, had a nice tan, and we could see just about all of it. In addition to the slave collar, he had nipple rings which were connected by a chain which seemed to be tight enough to pull constantly on the rings, making the wearer always feel them, I imagine. The "slave" had only two other items of apparel, a black leather pouch, and a black leather hood. Quite clearly he had no body hair at all. I couldn't see his head or face, but everything from the neck down has been shaved. He was being led, presumably, because the eye openings in the hood were closed. Obviously he could breathe and hear. There was also an ample opening for his mouth.
The cock pouch of the first guy, "the master," was bulging obscenely. He obviously had a full-fledged erection. The slave's cock was also very hard. We could see a good portion of it sticking up above his pouch.
When they came to center stage, they were greeted by a round of polite applause from the onlookers. There were no catcalls or hoots or anything like that.
Now, I should remind you that "Bolero" starts softly. The rhythm is incredibly sexy, and the music rises in volume and intensity very gradually for, I'd guess, fifteen minutes. By the time it ends, it sounds absolutely orgiastic, wonderfully appropriate for what was going on in front of us. I was beginning to feel warm all over, flushed perhaps. The Talisker was getting to me more than usual, and I was becoming aroused, perhaps from the combination of the scotch, the music, and the scene I was watching.
The master unhooked the leash and cast it aside. Then he stuck two fingers in the slave's mouth to be sucked. The slave sucked them eagerly. I was getting hotter and harder watching the little kid dominate the bigger one, especially since the slave seemed to throw himself into his role. Slowly, so slowly, the master put the slave through his paces, as if he were showing off a gaited riding horse.
I can't remember the exact sequence, but the slave first lay down and kissed each of the master's feet. Then the slave got up on his knees and the master turned his delicious little bare ass toward the slave. The slave kissed each cheek. Nothing very suggestive there, just a kiss of "respect." Both boys had beautiful asses, asses that made my mouth water. I had to adjust my cock. Gerry noticed and grinned. I saw him put his hand to his own crotch.
Next the two did some side by side dancing, the sort of things dancers in strip clubs do, with lots of wiggling and pelvis thrusting, and I had to squirm in my seat to adjust my cock again. I was wearing boxers, and I hoped I wasn't leaking enough to show through the khakis I'd elected to wear instead of jeans.
There was a ripple of applause after the boys quit dancing. With a touch on the shoulder, the slave knelt. He unfastened the chaps so the master stood there only in his harness and a black pouch. Obviously he had no body hair either. My mouth was dry, and I took another swallow of my drink. I was surprised to find that the glass was empty, so I set it on the floor next to my chair.
What followed was an incredible job of simulating sex between men, all done to the throbbing rhythms of the music and the throbbing of my dick. The slave nuzzled the master's pouch and then would pull back and make his lips into an O, but he never put his lips on the pouch. When the master presented his backside, the slave licked his butt cheeks very suggestively. Then he pulled back, took the master's cheeks and spread them apart with his hands. He stuck his tongue out and made licking motions with it, but an inch or so from actually touching the crack.
Then the master turned and smiled down at the slave kneeling at his feet. I was blown away by the smile. There wasn't a hint of cruelty to it. I couldn't see his eyes because of the mask, but I'd swear his was proud of his partner, even that he loved him.
He held out his hands to the slave. The slave took the master's hands. This must have been carefully rehearsed, for the slave had no way of seeing his master. Holding his master's hands, he stood up.
Then the two began to slide their hands over each other's bodies. They licked each other's necks, they stood, one behind the other, and simulated fucking. I was ready to blow my wad at that point. I should have been uncomfortable, embarrassed by my hard on and my inability to keep from adjusting my cock, but I felt very relaxed and happy. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. So much so, in fact, that I became aware that I was moaning quietly as I watched.
As I said, I was sitting between Harve and Gerry. Harve had a broad smile on his face, but he wasn't moving around or wiggling and moaning like me. Why was I moaning? Because of the show I was watching, but why just me? Gerry leaned over and asked, "Enjoying this, Jim?"
"Oh, yeah," I groaned, rubbing my stiff rod through my pants. I felt a moist spot and looked down. Yep, I'd leaked through. "Oh, what the hell," I said to myself and turned my attention back to the boys on the stage.
Now they were facing each other, heads back, mouths open, arms flailing, and pelvises thrusting towards each other. Both had erections sticking up out of their pouches, and I could see that both their cockheads were shiny with precum.
As the music came to its crashing conclusion, both boys dropped their pouches to the floor and faced the audience, standing side by side, their hard pricks bobbing and dripping in front of them. I almost came on the spot.
There was much more vigorous applause at that point, and they took several bows.
Then Harve stood and faced the audience. "Gentlemen, as is our custom, we have a special treat for our guest." He put his hand on my shoulder to keep me from standing, I suppose. "Jim, we're sure you're going to enjoy their encore."
The little guy took the bigger one by the hand and led him directly to me. When the slave was right in front of me, a touch on the butt signaled him to kneel in front of me.
Speaking to me, the master said, "My slave has many talents. He'd like to show you one of them, if you don't object."
I couldn't have said no at that moment if my life had depended on it. (Little did I know how much of the rest of my life DID depend on my actions there.) I swallowed and nodded at the speaker.
The slave, kneeling in front of me, not a hair on his body, cock hard, red, throbbing to his heartbeat, and dripping, reached for and found my belt buckle. He unfastened it, undid the top button of my khakis, and pulled down the zip.
The little guy said, "Sir, will you let my slave pull down your trousers?"
I lifted my butt, and the kneeling slave pulled down my pants and boxers to my ankles. Then he grabbed my cock and went after it like a Hoover. I must say he was very talented. He knew where to lick for maximum effect, and he alternated sucking with swirling his tongue and licking my most sensitive places. I zoned out. I didn't want him ever to quit. This was far and away the best blow job I'd ever had.
The others were getting into it now, muttering encouragement softly, to me and to the cocksucker. Many of them were rubbing their cocks as they watched.
Truth to say, however, it didn't last very long because I was already too aroused from their routine on stage. All too soon I erupted. I don't think I ever came that long, that hard, or that much, but the slave, obviously an experienced cocksucker, swallowed it all, not missing a drop.
I took a minute or so to get my breath. Then I couldn't help myself. The slave was still kneeling between my legs, and I had to see the boy's face. He started to say something, but I reached down and pulled off his hood.
"Dad!"
"My God! Mike!"
EPILOGUE
The aftermath to these events was complicated, and there's no need to go into all the details here. Some of the end results are as follows.
Unbeknownst to anyone at the time, Seth took pictures of Mike sucking his father, including one just at the moment when Jim pulled off the mask and the two recognized each other. Those pictures surfaced lots of places. Marta Cronin received copies by express courier. Copies showed up at the DA's office, at the office of the rector of the church the Cronins attended, at the offices of both of the city's newspapers, and at the local bar association headquarters.
Gerald Bowman left the DA's staff to become head counsel for Watkins Enterprises, Inc.
Insisting that her husband had been unfaithful to her while having incestuous relations with their son, Marta Cronin filed for divorce.
James Cronin resigned as District Attorney, and his second in command, Martha Sexton, took over his job. She oversaw the legal actions that came about after everything hit the fan.
Willie's mother, claiming she had no idea Seth was going to inveigle Willie into telling the lies he had to Mike and Jason, admitted that Seth had paid off her mortgage. Mike and Jason gave depositions. As a result, Seth was charged with an assortment of things, including kidnapping, blackmail, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and when he tried to influence Mrs. Daniels and Willie to change their testimony, subornation of perjury.
Bart Watkins didn't want a long trial of his son with its attendant negative publicity, so he persuaded Seth to plea bargain. Seth is now at a downstate prison where, word has it, with his tanned body, blond hair, and blue eyes, he's very popular with certain of the inmates.
Jim Cronin didn't contest the divorce. He is now practicing law in San Jose.
The website Seth had set up was closed down, and the sale of the cd's halted. But, fearing the damage had been done, Jason decided not to enroll at State that fall. He's now living with relatives in Berkeley and attending the University of California, where he's already found a circle of gay friends.
Mike was devastated. He had lost his girlfriend. His roommate from the previous year had watched him performing sex acts with Jason. He had performed naked in front of the Cadre, some of the city's most influential men. He had been subjected to every sort of humiliation and degradation the devious mind of Seth Watkins could come up with. Pictures of him doing these things had been posted to the web, literally hundreds of them. Sales of the cd had been phenomenal during the few weeks it was available. And, perhaps worst of all, he had publicly given his own father a blowjob and had been photographed doing it. Marta said she couldn't bear to see her son again after she saw the pictures of him sucking his father's dick.
Taking what money he could scrape up and a duffel of clothing, he drove to Key West. He lived in the cheapest motel he could find until his money ran out. Then he lived either in his car or on the beach. Eventually, he took to turning tricks.
At last report he was the slave boy of a stockbroker in Pittsburgh.
THE END
This was my first extended venture into this kind of story. You have been generous in your emails and your kind comments. I have tried to answer each email I've received. If I have missed anyone, I apologize. Thanks to everyone who's written me! Special thanks go to Al, who suggested that this would have been a more interesting story if Mike were truly straight. I think he's probably right, but too much of the story had been written by that time to change it. As I've said in the prefaces, however, I did use some of his ideas in the later chapters, and I am grateful to him for them. -Max