Reunited

Originally published in the Bruno Gmunder anthology Whipping Boys

Reunited by Natty Soltesz

Chuck Fisher. There he was, drinking a cheap beer under the dim lights of the Groom Ramada's Bay Field Hall. I let the door swish shut behind me and when I looked again his brown eyes were right on mine.

I looked back. Let him see me, let me see him. He tilted his face to the floor, sucked in the mouth of his bottle. Then he peeked back up at me.

I moved on, looking past and around him to the crowd of about a hundred, the badly-dressed and almost middle-aged lot of them. My class. Groom Senior High Class of 1993.

There was Monica Berretz, slurping a Long Island iced tea, makeup thick as buttercream frosting on her tore-down face. Oh she'd been a bitch to me, particularly in our junior-year history class. We reported on a pop-culture figure from the sixties/seventies, I did David Bowie. I mentioned his bisexuality and she said something like, "Well now we all know why Shane did his report on him."

She was talking to a short, round woman whose name I couldn't remember, getting in her face, making some sort of point by poking a skeletal finger at her.

Phew. I needed a drink if I was going to get through this so I sidled up to the bar and ordered a martini from the sorta-cute bartender. "And a shot of whisky," I added on second thought.

"Shane. Shane Scully?" I looked to my right. A string bean of a woman looked back at me. She had a nest of curly hair on her head, bright orange earrings.

"Molly Ignario," I said.

"As I live and breathe," she said, and embraced me. She held me out, looked me over. "You have held up well. I like those shoes."

"Thanks," I said. The shoes – bright pink as just as expensive as my tailored suit and hot pink tie, thank you very much – had been a color-as-message masterstroke. It said Hola motherfuckers, I'm gayer and more successful than you'll ever be, so suck it up. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Pff." She leaned into me, her hand held up next to her mouth conspiratorially. "Better than some of these folks, that's for sure." I laughed. I liked Molly. She'd always been nice to me. "I saw your article – The New York Times...that's large potatoes, mister. Congratulations."

"Eh, it was just a profile. Sunday edition." She rolled her eyes and jabbed her elbow into my side.

"Still, that must be great for your business. Christ I'm practically selling my soul to get a mention in the Groom Gazette. Though, all in all, my store is doing pretty well, I mean I can honestly say that I'm doing better than some of the small business owners out there..."

Her voice drifted to the back of my brain. He was looking at me again. Chuck fucking Fisher.

Talk about holding up well: Chuck had matured into exactly my type. Or maybe he'd been my prototype, despite the fact that I'd considered him my worst enemy in high school.

He was with four other guys all of whom I unfortunately remembered. The douchebag brigade – they'd all harassed me at one point or another in high school. Brody Ravenstal, Jim Gallaway. Chuck was shorter than any of them – shorter than I remembered, muscled and fit, with a barrel-wide chest (hair peeking from the collar of his beige oxford shirt). He was poured into his Dockers, with thick thighs and an ass that looked better than I remembered, cheeks thick and plump as succulent chicken breasts. A big round bulge up front.

Nobody had been worse to me than Chuck. I knew that part of the reason I was at the damn reunion (and looking so fly) was because of the chance that he might be there. I wanted him to lap it up.

Now he was, like a thirsty dog in the heat of summer, and it made me a little uncomfortable. While Chuck had never been physically violent to me, he'd been plenty threatening. He'd called me every name in the queerbasher's handbook. The douchebag crew in the hall, Chuck right up front: "Hey Shane, how much cum did you swallow last night?" Not a high school day had gone by without Chuck asserting that I had less worth than the crust on the bottom of his shoe. I dreaded coming to school. I threw up nearly every morning of my sophomore year, mostly because of him. Now he was staring me down and I felt helpless all over again. I couldn't be sure of what his gaze implied, but it was persistent.

"So yeah, that's my life in a nutshell." Molly, still talking. I turned to her, nodded, and when I turned back Chuck was walking toward us. Toward me, his tits leading the way, his tight core contracting as he maneuvered his way through the crowd. Molly looked at me, looked at Chuck, and shut up.

"Hi Shane," he said.

"Chuck." He glanced at Molly for a moment. She got the message and slipped away.

"I'm glad to see you here," he said in low, confident voice. A familiar voice. It was the way he'd say faggot in my ear when passing me in the hall, a low rumble. "You look good."

"Thanks."

"Look..." he said. I looked. "I know in high school I was a dick to you." I nodded. He held out his hands. "I'm sorry. I just want to say that."

"Okay," I said. My defenses were hard as steel. "Thank you." It was hard to reconcile the contrite man in front of me with the sneering bully I remembered, but there was something in his eyes that stuck – a fierce, kinky gleam I'd forgotten about.

"I'll see ya around," he said, and walked back to his friends.

I ordered another drink. I caught my breath. I caught up with some old friends, mingled.

He never stopped looking at me. I tried to ignore it at first – smiled at him, nodded – but it wouldn't stop. I started to see it for what it was – not hostility, not even anxiety; more like curiosity. Maybe even interest. Was I getting cruised by Chuck Fisher?

Everyone got drunker. Chuck stuck with his posse. God I hated those guys. They slapped him on the back but Chuck seemed above it, on a different wavelength. I suppose he seemed that way to me in high school – the leader, the alpha – but I got the distinct sense that I was the alpha in the room now, at least in his eyes.

I went outside to smoke a cigarette. I listened to the lonely sound of highway, cars rushing past. The door opened, I turned and there was Chuck.

Was I surprised? Not exactly.

"Hey," he said. "Can I bum a cigarette?" I paused. I shook one out for him. He held it between his fingers. "Got a light?" I produced a lighter. He leaned forward, touched the tip to the flame, inhaled. It crackled and glowed. He nodded thanks.

"What do you do these days, Chuck?"

"I run an insurance company. Big company, out in Denver."

"Married?"

"Yeah."

"Kids?"

"No." We sucked our cigarettes. "Are you married?" he said.

"Nope."

"Got a...partner?"

"A couple boyfriends." Chuck paused as if to gauge my seriousness. Then he snickered - not out of malice. He just seemed tickled. "So your wife didn't come with you?"

"She works for a tech company," he said. "An upstart. It's hard for her to get away." He looked at me and I knew. I just knew.

Over the years I've gotten better at spotting ones like Chuck. It's surprising how many there are out there: guys in high-powered, high-stress positions who spend ninety percent of their time at their jobs and juggle family life at the same time. They're so high up on the totem pole and so inured to erotic domination that a dominatrix just won't do it anymore. They need the total humiliation and release they can only get from a man. They need to be fucked, frankly.

These kinds of guys have become my specialty because I know what they want. Also, I don't question them. If they want to call themselves straight, so be it, as long as they're taking my cock and following my orders.

"Too bad she's not here," I said. Chuck didn't say anything. His gaze was anything but level. "You know what, Chuck?"

"Yes?"

"I'm gonna let you see it, since you've been after it all night," I said.

"See what?" Acting like the virgin innocent but not doing a good job of it.

"My cock," I said, hefting the bulge my pants. It was the moment of truth and Chuck was right there in it. I took my hand away. My rising cock jerked in my pants and Chuck eyed it, excited and frightened. "C'mon," I said.

He followed me around the side of the building, away from the street. I took him by the shoulders and spun him around. He used his hands to brace himself against the brick wall of the building. I grabbed the cleft of his substantial ass, the ass he used to parade around in gym class. I swear he did it to drive me crazy - strutting around in the locker room, big hairy chest leading the way, cock swinging between his legs, tight, cocky butt following him like his own personal procession, perky cheeks flexing as he snapped towels and talked about the girl he was going to fuck that night and about what a fag I was.

"Does your wife know you like cock?" I whispered into his ear.

"Yes."

"Does she fuck your ass?"

"Just once, she did."

"That's not enough for a little straight cunt like you though, is it? Is it?" He shook his head and pressed the hot center of his ass back into my hand. "Say it."

"It's not enough."

"For?"

"For a straight cunt like me." Those words, coming out of Chuck Fisher's mouth, may as well have been the crooning of angels. I turned him to face me. He was breathless, flushed. I looked into his eyes; took hold of his face and brought it to mine. I pressed my mouth to his and shoved my tongue between his lips. He sucked it in as he exhaled. Kissing isn't something I normally spring on my straight slaves, at least not in the early going, but I had no intention of beating around the bush with this one.

While I kissed him I slid my hand down his back, past his tucked-in shirt and the belted waist of his pants. I felt silky underwear. The waistband was thin, frilly. "Well well well," I said, and reached for his belt buckle. I took his pants down to get a good look. His panties were pale pink, with a darling little bow on the front. His cock didn't fit in them; it hung out of the leg hole, just as hairy as I remembered and a lot harder.

"Are these your wife's?"

"Yes."

"Does she know her husband's a pussy boy who likes to wear her panties?"

"Yes sir." I was tickled. He was more ready for this than I realized. Probably he had another queer daddy in his life who'd taught him the ropes. I slipped my hand under his panties and felt his hot, hairy asshole which instantly relaxed against my finger. Chuck pressed a hand to my crotch.

"Uh-uh," I said, swiping his hand away. "You don't get to touch it yet. But I did promise you could see it. On your knees." He dutifully dropped to the pebbly black top, eyes trained on my crotch as I took my time unbuckling, unzipping. I have a massive prick - always have, though I went to great pains to hide it in the high school locker room. I lowered the waistband of my briefs slowly, revealing the thick root of it, the shaft like a Roman column. I wasn't even fully hard. His eyes widened. He gulped.

"That's right, slut. That's what's going inside of you. Are you excited?"

"Yes sir."

"A little scared?"

"Yes sir."

"You should be."

I had him follow me to my room. The elevators were a few feet from the entrance to the banquet hall and the doors were closing when Molly walked up and saw us in there, together. Her eyes widened, the doors shut. I looked at Chuck, savored his red-faced embarrassment.

We went into my room. "Strip."

He complied. His body was gorgeous. "Take out my cock." Chuck knelt and took down my pants. "Now suck it."

It was a sight. Chuck Fisher buck naked and sucking my cock like a common whore, his cock hard as a railroad spike and standing straight up from his bush. He did a good job of it, too, keeping his teeth in check, his masculine bearded face bobbing up and down, lips stretching to accommodate my girthy cock. He was loving it. He started stroking his cock while he sucked. I slapped him across the face.

"No touching yourself. Focus on me. Focus on being a good cocksucker." It only turned him on more. He ate my cock like a fifty-dollar steak, grunting and groaning as he took every inch, his watery eyes glancing up at me.

I pulled my cock out of his mouth, slapped his face with it. "Keep your mouth open," I said. Chuck did as he was told. I jacked off. I got a nice drop of precum on the tip. "Lick it off," I said.

"Yes sir." Moaning with delight as he ate my precum.

"Like that?"

"Mm, yes." I fed him some more, then I was ready to taste him.

"On all fours." His hard cock led the way as he got on the bed and arranged himself doggy-style. I savored the sight of his solid, muscular body arranged like a table for me to eat off of. And that legendary ass in all its spread-wide glory, round as the sun with a dark stripe of hair down the crack and a gorgeous pink hole.

I cupped one substantial cheek in my hand. Chuck's flesh went covered with quivery goosebumps. I gave it a good slap.

"This is my ass now."

"Yes sir. It's all yours. Use it however you want." I pressed the tip of my finger to his slot, pushed in just a bit. His hole relaxed for me. "Man that's a hot cunt."

"It's yours."

"I'm gonna fuck it."

"Yes sir. Please."

"But not yet." I got in close, sniffed around. He smelled like cologne and I wondered if he hadn't slapped some right on his asshole before he went out, like he wanted it to be as fresh as possible for whatever cock came along.

I had to get a taste. I licked up his thighs first. Chuck moaned immediately. "You want my tongue in there? Opening up your hole?"

"Yes please."

"Yes please what?" He knew the answer and corrected himself. I gave his ass a hard, stinging slap. "Don't make that mistake again."

I licked all around that gorgeous ass and finally wiggled the tip of my tongue around the slick skin of his asshole. You would've thought I dipped his dick in honey the way he moaned and pressed his ass against my face. I held his cock, felt it get harder the deeper I dug my tongue into him. I ate him out for a good fifteen minutes. His cock dripped a small puddle of precum on to the bed spread. That's when I reached for my suitcase.

I pulled out a bright red butt plug, medium-sized, and held it in front of his eyes. "Get it ready," I said. Chuck opened his mouth and sucked it in. I reached back and pressed a spit-slicked finger to his hole. He moaned around the plug as I slid the finger inside his tight chute. He took his mouth away.

"Oh fuck, oh god, that's so good."

"Keep sucking," I said, and shoved the plug back in his mouth to shut him up. When it was nice and wet I brought it back to his asshole and plugged it into him. His hole closed around the narrow end of it, the red disk of the handle pressed against his body.

"Get up," I said. He stood, looking confused. "Get dressed."

"Sir?"

"We're going back downstairs. You don't want to miss the reunion, do you?"

I laid out the rules as I got dressed. "We're going to socialize for at least another two hours. I'm going to tap you on the shoulder at some point, and when I do you'll excuse yourself to the bathroom, go into a stall, and fuck yourself with the plug for five minutes. I'll time you, and I may come into the bathroom to listen. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." He was looking just past me, at his clothes on the bed. His cock was so hard, still. I put a finger under his chin, tilted his head upward, and kissed him. As I tongued his mouth I reached behind him and grabbed the plug with my fingers, pulling it out and plugging it right back in. Chuck groaned. I broke the kiss, slapped his ass and told him to get dressed.

Back at the reunion I mingled, had some more drinks. The tension was lifted and I realized I was having a pretty grand time. It was funny, when I first got there I'd been holding on to my pride so hard, trying to project it. I was so hungry for respect I'd lost sight of everything else. Like the fact that these were humans who were probably just as insecure as I was, and that I'd been friends with some of them, and many of them were actually quite funny.

I kept an eye on Chuck, of course. He seemed relaxed, too. At least he wasn't looking at me every other minute. Now we were joined by the plug in his ass, a persistent reminder that he was mine for the night, that I was inside him.

After a half hour I tapped his shoulder, trying to be surreptitious but his idiot friend Brody noticed. Chuck didn't miss a beat. He went to the bathroom as ordered, came back five minutes later looking a little flushed. I watched him from across the room as he rejoined his friends. Brody said something to him, glanced at me. Chuck shrugged it off but you could tell Brody was suspicious. It was fun to watch.

The second time I followed him in the bathroom and when the coast was clear I joined him in the stall, fucked him with the plug. Two guys came in while we were in there. I kept pumping. I loved watching his ass stretch around it, listening to him try to stay quiet while I got rougher and rougher.

"I'm gonna enjoy fucking your ass, Chuck," I whispered in his ear.

"Yes sir. I just want to please you."

"We could've had so much fun in high school, you know? If I'd known what a cunt you were back then," I said, alternating shallow thrusts of the plug with pulling it all the way out and back in. "Did you know back then that your ass was made to be used?"

"Sorta," Chuck said breathlessly. "I used to stick markers up my ass." I laughed.

"Anything else?"

"Cucumbers, sometimes."

"A cock is what you need, though."

"Yes sir."

"When did you get your first cock up there?"

"A few years ago. A guy my wife and I met online."

"He was lucky to get first crack at your ass. But I'm gonna make sure I get mine."

"It's yours all night, sir. Use me as much as you want." I jacked his cock as I fucked his ass with the plug, getting him just to the edge and backing off.

We went back to the party and hung out for a while longer. People were getting trashed. I was well lubricated myself. Things were starting to break apart, with the lightweights leaving and the partiers doubling down.

I tapped Chuck on the ass when it was time to go. I said my goodbyes while he said his. Molly and a couple other guys gave me their phone numbers. I really felt like I might stay in touch.

Of course the real reunion was just beginning. I didn't waste time when I we got to my room again. My cock wanted to be in that ass. In some way my whole life from adolescence onward had been leading to this. I ripped his clothes off, enjoyed Chuck's look of shock when his shirt buttons went flying. I tossed him onto his back and chewed and sucked his hairy tits, made his nipples red and tender. His cock was so leaky and wet, I couldn't resist a taste. I trailed my tongue down his flat and hairy midsection, licking around his abs and down to his hairy crotch. I sucked the tip of his cock, licking off the juice there, savoring it. Then I took his cock all the way down my throat, letting it fill me up, going back up and down again.

"Thank you sir," he kept saying.

I put him over my knee, took out the plug and tossed it aside.

"You were a good boy tonight but you weren't such a good boy in high school."

"I know, sir."

"So you agree that you deserve to be punished?"

"Yes sir. Please punish me. I deserve it." His substantial ass was right there, practically quivering, perched atop my thighs, his hard cock pressed into the side of my leg. I reared back my hand and slapped him hard. Whack! I did it again and again, in quick succession. Then I shoved two fingers inside him, pumping his hole while I gave his reddened cheeks a rest.

"This is what you're good for. You kept it a secret back then but now I know. Say it."

"I'm a cunt. For you to use."

"For all cock."

"For all cock." Whack! Another five hard slaps. His ass was getting welts, but Chuck took it like the tough bitch he was.

It was time. I pushed him off of me and positioned him like a doggy, with his face and chest pressed into the bed and his rear wagging up high. I rolled on a condom and lubed up my fat cock. His ass was gaping and spread just for me. I savored the moment, swiping my cockhead against his hole, pushing in just slightly. Then I pushed it home. Chuck moaned as I bottomed out inside of him, going slow so that he could feel every inch of my massive piece. He was panting, squealing. When I got all the way inside him I reached down to feel his cock - it was completely hard. I didn't intend on paying it much attention.

I started off with a sure and steady hump, pounding the full length of my prong in and out of Chuck's fleshy ass, enjoying the sight of his firm cheeks rippling each time I pounded in. Chuck kept up a steady stream of squeals.

Despite Chuck's considerable musculature I was almost a foot taller and had a good twenty pounds on him, which made it fun as I turned him into a total fuck toy. I pulled him back so that he was sitting up onto my cock, then I raised him by grasping on to his waist, lifting him off my pole before dropping him right back down. I could hear his hard cock slapping against his belly and thighs as I speared him like a rotisserie chicken. Chuck found his footing and began doing most of the work, impaling his ass on my cock again and again. I pinched his tits, rolling his hard nips between my fingers and telling him what a hot slut he was.

"I'm gonna..." was all he got out. He was going crazy on my cock, riding me like a prize-winning pony, fucking himself on me again and again. I looked around his torso just in time to see his hard cock start spurting cum, unbidden, spraying jizz all over the bed as his boner swung around like an out-of-control garden hose.

There's nothing that gets me off more than a slut who loves to get fucked, and this was just too much. I shot my own load into the condom, in Chuck's hole, bruising his tits with my hands and sucking hard on his neck, intent on leaving a mark.

We lay down for a bit. I think we both fell asleep. I woke up to Chuck playing with my cock.

"Can't get enough, can you?"

"No sir." I tossed him on his stomach and fucked him again, this time making him keep his ass raised up so that my hips pounded those fat cheeks down with every thrust. I had him stand up and fucked him that way and it was rough and unforgiving, a revenge fuck if there ever was one. Chuck wasn't moaning so much whimpering and holding on to the wall for dear life as I ravaged his ass. I slapped him good, even whacked him across the back of the head a few times for good measure.

"Thank you sir," he said. I had him repeat after me: "I exist to be used. I'm worthless except as a vessel for men to stick in their cocks."

"Apologize to me again," I said, grabbing him by the hair, my nuts slapping against his ass with each thrust.

"I'm sorry," he said, near crying. "I'm so sorry, sir. I'm sorry." That made me cum the second time.

I made him take a shower in the morning before I fucked him a third and last time. This time was slower and sweeter, almost romantic. I kissed him a lot, with tons of tongue, and he gave it right back to me. I even jacked him off as I fucked, timing it so that we came at exactly the same time.

We didn't talk much as we got dressed, Chuck having to put on the panties he'd worn last night and his button-less shirt. I gave him a kiss and he went off to his room to pack.

The hotel had a continental breakfast and many of my classmates were there, looking rough and hung over. I suppose I looked as bad as any of them, though I may have had the glow of the freshly laid. Chuck came in a few minutes after me and after getting his bagel and fruit, he sat next to me, ignoring the douchebag contingent who were sitting just a few tables away. He had a bit of that glow himself.

"Come to New York," I said. "Bring your wife. She can watch."

"Okay," Chuck said, smiling at me. Some balance had been achieved between us, and it felt good. I got up to leave. He stood and put out his hand. I ignored it and kissed him full on the lips. The douchebags looked at us with dropped jaws. You could've heard a pin drop. It almost made the hell that was high school seem worth it.

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