Reluctant Gladiator

RELUCTANT GLADIATOR - Part Twenty Five A story by Pete Brown (petebrownuk @ yahoo.com)

Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

We went back to Jon and Anne's apartment, then they insisted we went out to dinner "to celebrate". It was a really fancy place, the kind I'd never been in before, and even though I was wearing the same sort of expensively casual clothes as Jon, I felt totally out of place - I'm a beer kind of guy, but we had three different wines with dinner, and I couldn't join in with Anne and Jon when they sat there saying how wonderful they were as I didn't have the right words to use. We had artichokes to start - I only ordered them because Anne and Jon were exclaiming about them and how they were the first of the new season, but of course I didn't know how to eat them and when the waiter put mine in front of me I started to try to cut it with my knife, and pour some of the stuff from the finger bowl over it as I thought it was a sauce! And I made a mistake, and used the wrong knives and forks and so on throughout the meal. I knew I was blushing furiously because of all these gaffes, and yet Anne and Jon seemed totally unconcerned - perhaps that's what having a lot of money gives you, that assurance that it doesn't really matter what you do as long as you're enjoying yourself.

To compensate, I suppose, I kept drinking the wine - Anne and Jon had a modest glass each from the three bottles - and the consequence of this was that when we got back to the apartment I wasn't in full control. You've got to remember that I hadn't had any alcohol for almost five years (except for the beers the day before), and my body wasn't used to it. Still, that's no excuse, is it? A man ought to be in control of his own body. When Anne suggested that I fucked her again "just to make sure" I'd fertilised her, I couldn't see any reason for not agreeing (eve though I'd rather have fucked Jon again! - but the moment I went to enter her, I lost my erection! That had never happened to me before when I was going with a woman, and I was so ashamed. Anne was very kind and gentle with me, though, and let me lie there with my head on her tits as she stroked my hair gently and told me that it was OK, and that it happened to all men occasionally. Well I didn't make me feel all that much better, as it hadn't happened before, and although I could almost blame the alcohol, I couldn't help thinking that it was probably ore to do with wanting to fuck Jon, rather than her.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a raging thirst, as you do after a lot of wine, I guess, and stumbled out of bed and went to the kitchen and drank a couple of pints of water. As I walked back into the bedroom and saw Jon sprawled there on the bed, his butt in the air, I knew I was going hard, and when I slipped back into the bed all I wanted to do was plunge my dick into him and fuck and fuck. But Anne half woke up and reached for me, and as her hands explored my body and found my hard dick, she rolled over on to me, and so I ended up fucking her anyway.

The next morning I wasn't feeling too good. I had a headache, and my stomach was churning around. Jon laughed and told me I was sung over, but I reckon it was all the strange fancy food I'd eaten - a man like me needs steak and potatoes and stuff, not all the fancy things they'd ordered for me the night before (or, rather, I'd ordered for myself, not really knowing what some of the stuff was!). Anne made me toast and coffee and orange juice, but then got dressed and went off to the office, then Jon said casually "If you're not feeling so good, perhaps you should go back to bed." That seemed like a good idea, so I went and lay down again, but then Jon got in with me and wanted to start kissing me - I felt uneasy and didn't want his tongue in my mouth and all that stuff, and when he stated to playfully bite at my nips and grip my dick, I told him to stop as all I really wanted to do was lie there quietly. He seemed to take this as encouragement, as if it was some sort of game when I turned him down and then had to be "persuaded" to have sex, and he redoubled his efforts to play with my body.

I wasn't having it. I'd had five years of not being in control, of not being able to make my own mind up about what I did and did not want to do, so I told him again to stop, and that I was serious about it. It only encouraged him more and drove him into a frenzy of lust, and I could see his hard dick bobbing up and down with excitement as his head moved around, trying to nip at my tits and then to get my dick into his mouth. I told him again to stop - a lot more sharply this time - and then when he didn't, I got really pissed off. Look, I was a gladiator, right? The Champion, in fact, and I was used to having the younger gladiators obey me - not that Jon was a gladiator or younger, but his slim, "swimmer's body reminded me of the youngest guys at the school. So I suppose it was reflex that made me act as I did - as he kept on tickling and groping at me, I lashed out at him as I would at one of the young gladiators, then grabbed his arm, held him, and slapped him hard (very hard - I'm strong and muscular, as you know) on the butt.

Well that did stop him, and he got out of bed and went and looked at himself in the mirror where we could both see the two big red hand prints on the white skin of his ass (he was a nice tan everywhere else, but as a free man I suppose he couldn't lie on the beach naked). He turned and came back to the bed, his dick so hard that it was almost touching his navel, and threw himself on me. "Fuck me, Steve, fuck me....", he panted. "I need a man like you to control me..." He simply wouldn't take no for an answer, and when I slapped him a couple more times, that only excited him more! I was feeling really bad - my head was aching, my guts were churning, and I really didn't like hitting Jon (I reckon it's OK to hit the young gladiators as they need toughening up, but I wasn't sure I liked the way Jon was taking it, so sexually). So I turned over on my back and lay there, and let Jon start to nibble and suck at my dick, and then when he'd aroused me - well, you try not going hard when there's a guy nibbling and sucking at you like that - he straddled me and pushed my dick up into him and began to rock up and down.

You can guess what happened, can't you? In spite of feeling like shit initially, when my dick was being gripped by Jon's ass there was no way I couldn't respond, and soon I was thrusting upwards to slam into him, and we went on and on until I quite roughly pushed him off me as I wanted to stroke myself a couple of times before I shot my load: funny, that - I suppose it's a control thing, really. And it is really sexy, isn't it, to stroke your dick those last few times when you're right on the edge of cumming?

I felt a whole lot better after that and lay there and held Jon against me, wrapping my arm around his shoulders as he jerked himself off - over my belly, which I wasn't all that pleased about, until I realised it gave me the chance to make him lick it all up, and I enjoyed feeling his tongue sliding over me). Until he started to "play", and stick his tongue deep into my navel, and you know how that can be a bit unpleasant, so I slapped his butt again to remind him that I was in charge, and he pressed himself close to me and whispered "You're fantastic, Steve. I like a man that's in control."

"Oh come on! You're a hot shot lawyer, you make all this money. And I was a slave, and before that just a grunt marine..."

"Steve, you don't get it, do you? Sure, when I go in to see my clients - even if it's the Chief Executive of a major corporation - I make the running, tell them what they have to do, and all that: it's my job. But when I'm in bed, having fun, I want a man to take charge so I can let go. And you do, don't you - take charge, that is? You didn't want to fuck, and when I persisted, you slapped me..."

I nodded. "Yes, but that's what a man does..."

"Some men do, Steve."

I cold see that this business of sex with another guy was a whole lot more complicated that just fucking a woman, where it was obvious who was in control, so I lay there and thought about it a bit whilst Jon continued to press his body close to mine. I'm a man who likes action, though, and I cant lie in bed all day, so after a few minutes I pushed him aside and got up and went to have a piss. He came in to the bathroom as I was standing there aiming my dick at the bowl and stood behind me, pressing his naked body into mine and putting his arms around me and kissing my shoulders. It felt so strange - I mean, no one had never done stuff like that to me before, especially when I was doing something private like taking a piss, but at the same time it felt kind of right, and so I let him carry on. But when I'd finished pissing and went to get into the shower, he said "No, Steve, come back to bed...."

"Jon, I reckon I need to be moving on. I've got to find a job, find a place to stay. It's two months until I can collect Jamie...."

"You can stay here, with us."

"I don't reckon that would be right. There's no way I could stay here, with you always after my body. Anne would be bound to find out."

He seemed to be concerned, and sad. "I suppose you're right. But getting a job and a place to stay isn't going to be easy, you know.... What qualifications do you have?"

"I was a marine. And I'm a champion gladiator..."

"Neither piece of experience will bet very useful, I'm afraid. There aren't a lot of jobs that need the qualities of a fighter! Times have changed, Steve, and jobs are scarce anyway. But let's shower, and I'll think about it."

I had to slap him a couple of times - not hard, just as warnings - when he tried to play with my dick rather than just concentrating on the job in hand and washing me as we showered, then afterwards he pulled on some of his casual clothes and sat there watching me as I put on the same stuff as I'd worn he day before - that doesn't bother me, as I don't mind a bit of male scent, but Jon looked worried.

"We'll have to get you some more stuff", he told me. "But it's a job I'm worried about - you've never worked in an office...."

"No. But I'm not afraid of hard work, and I'm tough and strong, as you know. So I could work construction, something like that...."

"It's mostly slaves who do that stuff now, Steve. They started to import big niggas from Africa and a lot of really tough South Americans... Why should anyone employ you to do labouring, and have all your social security and medical cover and all that stuff when they could get a slave and not have to bother?"

"You're joking, aren't you?"

"Not really, Steve. A whole lot of stuff that guys like you used to do, guys without a college degree, is now done by slaves. Almost the only thing available if you're not qualified for office work is to join the forces - they don't use slaves - but you were discharged from them and I think that means you can't reapply."

"Well, a truck driver? Something like that... Surely they don't trust slaves to take a rig out by themselves?"

"You don't have a licence."

"Yes I do. I got one as soon as I was old enough."

"But then you were indentured. And in many ways that's exactly like being a slave, except for getting free at the end. So all sorts of stuff like driving licences are cancelled. You'll have to take a test again, and that takes time... I reckon the best thing for you to do would be to take a vacation for the next two months, work the slave thing out of the system, we can fix for a driving test...."

"..and meanwhile stay here and fuck you?"

Jon grinned. "No, Steve, you're right. It's one thing for us to have a bit of fun - I do that with guys often - but if you were here for two months I don't see how I could help falling for you big time, and as you say, Anne would be bound to find out. And I need to think about our child... I'm not throwing all that away now we've gone so far to make that happen... So go off to the beach and relax...."

"I don't do that - I don't lie around and do nothing. And it's OK for you to talk about a vacation, but I don't have any money. I need to work...."

"Don't worry about money! The stud fee will be enough for you to vacation on."

"Stud fee?"

"You fucked Anne again last night. I think we should pay you at least as much as we had to pay Philips' Fighters when we hired you for the first night. You're expensive, you know - or so they said: a Champion fetches a premium price at stud."

I really didn't like hearing myself being talked about like this. Jon was a nice guy, but I could see that deep down he simply saw me a a slave, an object, something that he could hire, something he could use.

"Hey, no! Anne's a really nice woman. She was kind to me. No way am I going to get paid for fucking her."

"We already did pay for you to do it once, and I can't see the problem in you accepting the same fee for a repeat performance."

"Well you might not see a problem, but I do. So I won't take money for that."

Jon smiled at me again. "You're a strange guy, Steve. But you can't refuse to take my money - money for fucking me." Seeing the look of total amazement that came over my face he went on "A young guy like you with a big dick that he knows how to use, and a hard body - you could go down to most of the gay clubs and there'd be a queue of guys like me who'd pay you for an hour of your time. That's what I normally do - well, I pick them off the internet, actually - and there's a lot of men like me who pay for sex. You could set up as an escort...."

"No way!"

"Well, even if you don't want that as a profession, I insist on paying you what I'd normally pay an escort. But then you've done 'overnights', haven't you, and those are a lot more expensive..."

"I'm not going to get paid as an escort! No way!"

"Well then, I insist we pay you as a stud. A man like you can't object to having been chosen because of his strength and looks to do what a man is supposed to do.... But this is stupid - if I tell Anne you won't take our money, all she'll do is argue and negotiate with you, and you'll end up taking it. So as it's inevitable, why not accept it? Then I can take you shopping for new clothes - I like that manly scent from you, but by tomorrow it would be too strong..."

As we were talking Jon had come and stood right next to me, and he was now rubbing at my crotch suggestively. I really didn't want to fuck again that morning, and the only way I could think of to get out of it was to agree to go shopping. Then I had a great idea: "I know what - I'll go and visit Jamie's father, tell him the good news...." I hesitated, then realised there was a problem "...but I don't know where he lives, don't even know his name. All I ever called Jamie was 'Jamie'."

"You know nothing else about him? Why are you so keen on him anyway? I suppose he's got a stunning body, but you are supposedly not interested in men..."

So I told Jon about how I'd met Jamie, and he looked serious. "It will be difficult, Steve. I don't think Philips' Fighters will let you go and ask Jamie, not after the way Anne dealt with them. And everything relating to enslavement is sealed away from public interrogation: the idea is that families should not be able to find out where their sons have gone, so all the court records are not accessible, the slave processing centres are always a couple of states away so there won't be any personal recognition..."

"That's right! I wasn't processed anywhere near the base. We were a couple of days on the road...."

Jon nodded. "You said he had a big truck, though, where you and Jamie could lie when Jamie's father collected you from this punishment facility initially. A working truck, or a hobby truck?"

"It was all new and shiny. And a lot of chrome..."

"Well there you are! You know where the punishment centre was, in the same town as your base. And although you can't get at any of the records to find the names, you know that Jamie's dad must be quite wealthy - if he wasn't, he couldn't afford to run a big truck for fun. So all you have to do is go to the town and scout around all the rich folk until you spot him. That sounds as if you have the makings of a vacation to me..."

I nodded, and Jon got even more excited. "So now we need to shop for clothes and so on. You can't drive, so we'll have to look at bus times, get you a ticket. You don't have any credit cards, and that will make it difficult... But we can get you one of the prepay ones: folk will look at it a bit odd as they're normally only for folks who don't have a good credit record, but fuck 'em!"

We had a great morning. Jon took me to all the fancy shops again, but I felt stronger now and simply refused to let him buy me the kind of "dressy" clothes he wanted to. Instead we went to a cheap "warehouse" kind of place and I got all the stuff I thought I'd need: some tough "workmen" jeans, a few pairs of socks, some plain cotton briefs, a couple of Ts, a couple of hard-wearing shirts, a tough jacket, and a plain canvas holdall to carry it all in. Jon kept looking at the stuff I chose in dismay, but I told him I wanted to save money, and to make sure I didn't look out of place on the road. He discovered a benefit when we got back to the apartment, though: I changed into my new stuff, then Jon found it really exciting to have a "real" man, in rough clothes, fuck him!

As luck would have it the best bus for me was leaving that evening. Anne thought it ridiculous and wanted me to stay another evening with them, but I was eager to get away, so they took me to the bus station and when I was there she kissed me goodbye, and slipped something into my hand as she did so "Thank you, Steve", she murmured into my ear. "Thank you for being a really nice guy. Take this... Don't tell Jon."

Jon was getting me a coffee as she did this, and I looked at the tightly rolled up roll of bills I was holding. "No. I don't need this.... I've got the 'stud fee' already...."

"But this is extra, Steve. A special gift from me from being so very gentle, and such a good lover. If I didn't have Jon, you're just the man I'd want to marry."

Well I wasn't sure about taking payment like that - it made me feel as if I was some sort of prostitute. But she was so insistent, and Jon was returning, so I muttered back "Thanks - but it's a loan....", and that made me feel a bit better.

Sleeping on a bus has never been easy, but, frankly, I was so tired that I could have slept anywhere - the exertions in bed had meant I hadn't slept all that well, so it was good to be able to slump there and sleep. And the bus wasn't full anyway, so I could spread myself out over a couple of seats - and I suppose I'd got used to sleeping anywhere when I was in the marines, and at Philips' Fighters the beds were narrow and hard, so it wasn't a particular problem. The following morning we made a comfort stop and I had a big juicy burger for breakfast (a real treat, as I had had "healthy" food for so long that I'd almost forgotten how good really greasy food is. Then a boring day, relatively, as we sped along.

It was night by the time we got to the town where my old base was, and I remembered that there used to be some of those cheap motels clustered along one of the highways - mostly there for us guys who'd picked up a whore and needed a room for an hour or so, but I knew they did do "proper" lettings as some of the guys without a lot of money used to put their wives and girlfriends there if they came up to visit during our initial training. I had a big pizza and a couple of beers, then slept all night really well - although I did hear a lot of swearing, and some unmistakable sounds of fucking, early on in the night, but what do you expect?

The following day though I realised what a difficult task I had on hand - even a relatively small town, clustered around the base, had hundreds of acres of homes and such like - how on earth was I going to locate Jamie's father, especially as I was mostly on foot? I bought myself a bike so I was a bit more mobile, and then it occurred to me that there was really only one gas station in the place, so that if I watched it, sooner or later he'd have to stop by. Of course that might be "later", much later, but fortunately there was another motel across the way from it so I moved there.

I know you see spies and people like that doing it in the movies and on TV, but keeping watch on a place is really boring. You have to be alert all the time - especially as I didn't really know what kind of vehicle Jamie's dad would be driving: almost certainly he'd have changed the SUV he had five years ago, so I was relying on looking out for a guy who looked like I remembered him, driving some sort of expensive flashy machine. By the late evening I was so bored, and frustrated, that I needed t o go out, so I biked "downtown" to a bar that I used to go to when I was at the base. It had changed, though: the windows onto the street were now all covered over, and inside the previously dim lighting was even darker. After I'd ordered a beer I noticed another big difference, too: the people in there were all guys, whereas when I'd drunk there before there had been a fair spattering of women (mostly looking to be picked up by one of us for sex).

It didn't take me long to recognise that the people had changed, but the primary purpose of the bar had not. You didn't simply go there to drink, you went there to pick up someone for sex, but now that was another guy! Most of the men were from the base - young, hard-looking soldiers in training in their jeans and Ts - but there were a number of older men who were dressed differently. There was a lot of standing around "looking" seriously at each other, and I began to realise that the soldiers could be classified into two types: those who were looking to hook up with each other, and those who were looking to hook up with one of the older guys. It was really interesting, actually, to watch the exchanges going on - at first hesitantly, and then getting more and more "serious". I stood there at the bar minding my own business, but I have to say that I began to feel my dick stiffening as I looked at some of the men.

I got propositioned after about half an hour by one of the older guys. He was quite blatant about it - came up to me, said "Haven't seen you in here before....", then when I nodded, went on "You must be one of the trainers at the base - it's not often we see one of you in here, it's mostly the recruits....."

I shook my head and muttered "No, I'm out of the forces for five years now."

"...but still remembering the life, eh? And still in great shape! So what are you doing tonight?"

Look, I didn't want to be rude, but there was no way I was going to fuck with an old out-of-shape guy like him. So I said quite clearly, so there'd be no mistake "I'm going to pick up one of those young guys and fuck the brains out of him." There. I'd said it. I'd been open about what I really wanted to do, and I suppose that it was easier to do it like that to a complete stranger, in a place I'd probably not go to again.

The guy smiled. "Same as me, then. Still, you'd better have plenty of cash - you might strike lucky, but most of them are here to earn a few bucks to supplement their pay."

Seeing me looking surprised, he went on "Some of them only want to hook up with other guys their own age, but the others - those who will go with an older guy - they think they may as well sell it. And where's the harm, I guess? They've got something we want, and we've got something they want - cash." He stepped back a bit and looked at me, then went on "You may be lucky, though - a guy like me almost always has to pay one of them. But you might appeal to them - nice body you have!"

I nodded, but I didn't really want to carry on talking like this as it made me feel uncomfortable as I wasn't ready yet I suppose to think about guys going to bars to pick up other guys, so I nodded politely to him, wished him "Good hunting", and moved away.

My erection was raging now, and the easiest thing would have been to have left and go back to my motel and jerk off. But somehow being in this male atmosphere, and with a couple of beers inside me, I didn't want to. I kept looking at all those hard young guys, and realised I wanted to fuck, wanted to fuck when it was me who chose the other guy, with "no strings" attached: no gladiator I was rooming with, no Jon who'd initially selected me as a stud for his wife - just a simple, uncomplicated fuck with another guy, where I'd selected him. Most of the guys there were young trainees and although I knew they'd be OK, somehow they didn't appeal to me. But then I saw him - standing at the other end of the bar and somehow "alone", not in a group like some of the guys, simply standing there nursing his beer. The more I looked, the more I liked what I saw - he was tall (but shorter than me, I reckoned), and I could see strong muscled arms as he lifted his beer. His jeans were tight, showing me he had a hard flat belly and a butt which jutted out excitingly. I almost shot my load when he casually reached down and adjusted his jeans around his crotch - I could tell that he was hard, as I was, and there was an impressive bulge there.

I was scared, I admit it (and that's hard for me to do, as I'm not often scared, and when I am, I don't tell anyone). I wanted to go over to him and get together, but I didn't know how to do it. What were you supposed to say to a guy n a bar that you wanted to fuck? It's stupid, I know - I'd just spent five years fighting, and before that I'd been a marine - and yet here I was, scared, scared of doing or saying the wrong thing! But then I thought what did it matter? Suppose he was straight and hit out at me if I said we should go and fuck - even if he was a marine off the base I knew that my five years as a gladiator would mean that I was more than a match for him. So the worse that could happen would be a few punches, then I could walk away and never go there again, so it didn't matter what all the other guys thought about me. And, anyway, they were all here for the same thing, weren't they ? Look, I'm pretty much of a guy who can make himself do anything once he's worked out all the angles, so, still with some inner uncertainty and doubt, I walked over and stood next to him.

We stood there side by side in silence for a minute or so, both nursing our drinks. Then I gestured at the bartender and at my glass, and after it had been refilled, I said "And give my friend here one, too." And that was all I had to do, really, it was as simple as that: he needed to say thank you for the beer, and once we'd started talking, the rest was easy. We exchanged a few words about life in the marines, and then I said casually "It's so noisy in here - all these recruits...."

"Yes, I'm sick of them. Spend all day training them, and in the evening I'd like a bit of adult company...."

So, screwing up my courage, I said, trying to sound as casual as possible "So why don't we go back to my place - you can be away from the base, and the trainees...."

I saw his eyes raking over my body, then he smiled at me and nodded.

It felt odd taking a guy back to the motel where in the past I'd taken whores, but once I'd closed the room door, it was easy - he fell on each other, kissing: the taste of the beer added extra excitement to the thrust of our tongues. Then we almost tore each others clothes off and rolled around on the bed, still kissing but now with our hands scrabbling over each others bodies as we enjoyed the feeling of the hard muscles and the animal scents of each other. He broke away and started to suck my dick, and it was so amazing that I couldn't help putting my hand on his head and pushing him down so that my entire shaft was in him, and the tip of my dick was sending back incredible sensations as it rubbed against the hot, slimy back of his throat. He was scrabbling frantically at me then, and I let him go - he was gagging and choking, and my dick was covered in slime. At first I thought he'd be angry, but he rested there, breathing hard with drool and slime coming out of his mouth and nose, then he smiled at me and went back down on to me!

When I let him up again, he lay against me, his chest still heaving. I wondered if I ought to suck his dick, but he muttered "I like a man who's in control, like you. I usually have to make all the running.... The younger guys sort of expect it."

Well, with an invitation like that, what else did I need? I rolled him over on to his back and lifted his ankles onto my shoulders. Spitting in my fingers I leaned down and probed at his hole for a bit to stretch and relax him, all the time watching the expressions on his face as I did so. Then I slathered my fingers with spit again and transferred it onto my dick, and shuffled forward so my dick could touch his hole. "Whoa....", he called out. "There's a condom in my jeans."

I was astounded. I never liked condoms, and after I'd left high school where all the girls I'd fucked had sort of insisted on them (I can still remember how embarrassed I was when I had to go in and buy them!), I'd never used them - after all, if a whore doesn't want to get knocked up by her clients, she should take a pill. And why should a guy have to lose all that sensation by covering his dick in plastic? At Philips' Fighters there'd never been any mention of them at all. I thought about going ahead and fucking him anyway, but then I reasoned he might try to stop me and put up some sort of fight - and although I knew I could win, we'd been getting on well and I didn't want to have to hurt him (but, I have to admit, I could feel my excitement rising at the thought of a fight - no longer being a gladiator, I realised I missed overpowering another guy). So I stopped, and fumbled around as he watched me pick up his jeans and feel in the pockets, and then roll the hated thing on over my dick.

He needed to be taught some sort of lesson, though, so I only made a token effort at sliming my condom'd dick with spit, and then was far from gentle in pushing myself into him. He seemed to like hard fucking, though, as however hard I thrust and slammed in and out of him, he only cried out with that odd mixture of joy and pain, and not as if he was really hurting. Half way through, I got the better of him - I hauled him to the edge of the bed and flipped him over on to his belly so I could fuck him "doggy style", and as I did this I pulled the condom off so I could slide into him properly - it was much, much better for me then as I got all the sensation of his warn, slimy asshole against my dick, and I enjoyed it so much more. Mind you, there's one problem with fucking like that - I did have to go and clean his shit off my dick when I'd cum.

I didn't see any reason for him to be so angry afterwards - he had, as you remembered, said he liked going with a guy who's in control. I watched him as he lay against me jerking himself off, and thought we'd probably fuck again later that night - he seemed to be enjoying himself. But then he saw the empty condom on the floor, and realised what I'd done, and he challenged me and began to shout. Frankly, I thought he was being stupid - he liked a guy to take control, he'd said, and that's what I'd done: I'd decided to fuck him bare. And I enjoyed it, and I know he did. So I slapped him a couple of times to shut him up, and he went to strike me back - then realised he was naked. It's no problem for me to fight nude, but he clearly felt very vulnerable so he pulled his clothes on and went out, slamming the door.

After a boring time the following day keeping the gas station under observation, I was ready for sex again, and I'm a quick learner. So when I went back into the bar the next night I knew what I needed to do - I stood there with my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my jeans and my fingers pointing towards my crotch in that classic aggressive "I'm a man and I'm ready for anything" stance, and looked around the room slowly and deliberately, so that it was obvious that I was surveying the guys as they stood there. Then I raised the hem of my T and scratched my belly, to let them get a good look at my physique. I knew then which men were interested - a whole lot of them - so I picked one I liked the look of, took a couple of steps towards him, and simply said "You'll do. Follow me out."

It was that easy! And so it was every night I was there - I fucked a different guy every night, and at last realised what I'd been missing so many years ago. All that effort, all that time, and all that money I'd spent on bitches and whores, trying to seduce them, trying to get them interested, and all I had to do for really great sex was stand there in a bar and pick out the men I fancied.

End Of Part Twenty Five