Summer of Sex with Cowboy

MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY

Chapter 10

By Donny Mumford

I'm just noticing that Bruce has a nice summer tan working for him, and as he has stylish tan cargo shorts and a lightweight, long-sleeve white shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He's got nice clothes, unlike Richard. Leaving the top three buttons of the shirt unbuttoned, he says, "Get in that attention-standing thing again." I stand at attention, and he goes, "You need to be aware that I'm not fucking around here, so listen up. You've been fairly cooperative with me, but now we'll be interacting with the kingpin, Richard. Being fairly cooperative won't hack it with him. You need to be totally cooperative when we're with Richard, and definitely don't open your mouth unless you're asked to speak. Also, at the buffet dinner, you will stand in the buffet line fixing plates of food for all of us."

He looks at the notes on his cell phone, then says, "Um, and, oh yeah, if Richard should ask you about my mentoring, tell him I was hard on you but fair. Also, tell him you're excited about my mentoring because you can tell I'm the help you're looking for, and I made you realize you need to be a better person."

I nod my head, which one doesn't do when at attention, but Bruce doesn't know that. He adds emphatically, "And if he asks why it is you feel I was too hard on you, tell him about how I took your cigarettes and won't let you smoke at all, and that your ass is still stinging from the disciplinarian spankings, and then say, um, ah, tell him my discipline-spankings seemed excessive." I nod again, but he's not even looking at me as he says, "And lie to him if he asks have I prompted you in any way about your response to his questions. Got it?" I say, "Yes, Bruce," and he tells me to repeat everything, and when I do, he says, "Repeat all of it... again."

Satisfied that I know my place, Bruce seems, um, well, cocky now. I can tell he's getting off a little at me, standing at attention and, smirking, he takes the opportunity to walk around me, his hands clasped behind his back. Then, as I knew he would, he does a little touching. He rubs my head, which he seems to like doing, and then brazenly pats my crotch, grinning, then he crushes my nuts a little to see if I'll move. I grimace, still staring straight ahead.

I'm thinking he was definitely more confident telling me all that bull crap two minutes ago, and why wouldn't he be. I mean, I'm not giving him a hard time; hell, I'm helping him along because I'm curious about where this is leading, and, yeah, I want Richard to fuck my ass again too. Because of that, I've helped Bruce do the things Richard wanted him to do, which is why Bruce has a growing cockiness and confidence, but I can tell he's nervous too, and I'm guessing that's because we're going to see Richard, and you never know what he might do.

Checking his phone one last time, Bruce says, "Okay, um, just so you know, he, um, Richard, probably won't ask you anything, but now you know what to say if he does." He looks at me and mumbles, "Oh, you can, um, stop doing the standing stiffly thing. Whatever the order is telling you not to be at attention anymore, um, stand down, or whatever the right term is." I say, "It's 'at ease'," and he mutters, "Whatever."

Yeah, he's getting fidgety 'cause Richard scares him. Rechecking the time, he says, "Okay, let's do this. Time to go. Um, I'll be using the tight hold on the back of your neck because, If I don't, Richard will give me demerits." I nod again, and he goes, "You're doing great, but, um, can you act more humble to me when we get there? You know, as if you're worried I might discipline you again. Ah, but don't overdo it because he'll see right through that," and then he hits my forehead with his knuckle, saying, "Use your head, be smart. Can you do that for your mentor?" "Yes, Bruce, I can."

He says, "Off we go then. Get your ass moving." I move, but I can't move normally because of the butt plug. When I stumble going out the office door, Bruce squeezes my neck hard, muttering, "Watch where you're going." Fuck! I'm like, "Ow, Bruce, that hurt," and he mutters, "I've got to be rough with you to impress Richard. I want him to know he made the right decision choosing me to mentor you." Oh, it's all about you, huh? Swell.

It's a short trip, but the butt plug is making me walk oddly, bending forward with my legs almost bowlegged, and with Bruce making it worse by pushing my head forward unnaturally. I stumble a few more times before we get to the hotel, then I stumble into the bar. I don't need to fake Bruce being tough on me. Between the butt plug and his too-hard grip on my neck, my face is scrunched up from pain and discomfort.

Richard sees that and nods approvingly at Bruce, who jolts me to a stop beside Richard's bar stool, saying, "Here is the slightly improved recruit you've assigned to me, Richard. You wanted me to shape him up and, while it was no walk in the park, I made some progress bringing him down a peg or two." Richard smiles, "Yes, it appears you have. Um, hold him there for a minute, Bruce." Bruce tightens his grip on my neck as he cockily proclaims, "Yeah, sure thing Richard, no problem. He's not going anywhere."

Getting off his barstool, Richard is now smirking at me too as he says, "So, Mr. Navy Seal, your young mentor seems to have gotten on top of you a little bit. You're no longer as sure of yourself as you were when we met. Not quite the swaggering ex-Navy Seal I first encountered, huh? Am I right?" How can this little guy be so intimidating? I look down, mumbling, "Yes, Richard."

It's absurd that anyone seeing me now could think I was ever sure of myself. Standing here leaning forward at the waist, my feet unnaturally spread apart, plus Bruce has my head bent even further forward with that painful grip at the back of my neck. This unflattering picture of me is causing flickers of submissiveness in my mind, submissiveness toward Bruce, and feeling submissive is negatively affecting my body language. In other words, I'm fucked up and humiliated, but I'm not angry at Bruce. Actually, I kinda like the submissive flickers I'm experiencing, and, what the hell, he's trying his best to impress Richard and doing a damn good job of it without needing and help from me.

Sure, Bruce's earlier mentoring made me grin to myself at his cluelessness, but he's doesn't seem clueless now. He's being unnecessarily harsh, actually. Even so, compared to Richard and that fat prick, Art... Bruce is a sweetheart.

Nasty prick that he is, Richard is obviously enjoying my current humble status as he flicks a finger catching a piece of the lady's sleeveless too-big sweater I'm wearing. Then, grinning at Bruce, he snickers, then says, "A lady's sweater? Haha, that is directly from the mentoring manual. It's a classic humiliation technique... dressing a recruit in female clothing. Brilliant move, Bruce. You've been studying the handbook, haven't you?" Beaming at the compliment, Bruce goes, "Yes, Richard, actually I've memorized it."

Patting Bruce on the shoulder, Richard asks, "Well, did he give you any trouble?" Bruce says, "Yeah, some at first, but nothing I couldn't handle. Um, I may have gotten a bit too hard on him, actually. I wanted him docile when you next saw him, and as you can see, he is."

Getting back on his stool, Richard says, "Yeah, he is, and it's okay to use excessive force initially. It gets a recruit's attention. Christ, you did a better job with him than either Art or I did. I'm impressed, but, um, for now, how about if you park his ass somewhere out of earshot so you and I can have a drink while you're giving me a full report." "Yes, Richard," and then, with a push on my neck, he says to me, "Get moving."

Tightly squeezing my neck, he walks me about fifteen feet to where there's an entrance to one of the many hotel pubs. He says, "Over there, Zachery," and pushes me to where the entrance wall and barroom wall form a ninety-degree angle. In other words, he puts me in the corner and says, "Keep your nose touching where the walls meet. Seriously, I'm not joking; keep your nose touching that corner! I can see you from the bar, so keep your nose touching, or I'll come back over and smack you."

I do that, smelling stale cigarette smoke on the wallpaper from the smoke absorbed off a million cigarettes over the years." He makes sure my nose is touching, then pats the back of my head and mumbles, "Don't move. Stay just like that, and I'll move you out of here as soon as I can." Taking a few steps away, he quickly comes right back to see if I moved back from the corner. I didn't, so he pats my ass, "Be a good boy for me, or you'll be punished. That's how this works."

As he goes back to have a drink with Richard, I shudder because, Goddamn, there was no mistaking it this time. I sensed a strong stab of submissiveness, and it had Bruce's name all over it. I didn't think he could make that happen, but I'm kind of proud of him that he did.

I'm not expecting anything like a Jekyll and Hyde thing, though. Bruce is simply sucking up to Richard at my expense, and, yeah, he has definitely gained some confidence from the successes he's had with me so far. And he should because, what the hell, he got me to do everything Richard told him to do, and a little more. So, it's understandable that he's now feeling cockily good about himself. The thing I'm wondering about is my now-familiar question of how much of this is me letting him do these things, and how much of it is Bruce somehow getting into my head without me realizing it? Right now, I can't be sure, which is quite interesting.

And, I can only imagine what the people at the tables are thinking about a grown man being made to stand in the corner. Jeez, I gotta hand it to Bruce, though; standing me in the corner is a pretty effective way to bring me down another peg or two. But, parking a recruit in a corner must be in the mentor's manual because Bruce wouldn't have done it otherwise, would he?

Then, I snicker to myself because I'm surprised at how interested I am in all this crazy shit. Sure, there's the submissive/dominant relationship thing that most people have at least heard something about. I have too, but like most people, I don't really know much about it. I'd always assumed it's mostly exaggerated. But, hell, in prep school, we took turns pretended to be sub/dom kids until it got out of hand one time, and I had a wicked fistfight with one of the kids. A long time ago...

On a serious note, since Ronny left me, I want an interesting adventure of my own. With that in mind, I bumbled into Richard at this very bar, and step by step, here I am, standing in a corner. Obviously, all of this has been a challenge for my ego but what's helped immensely is knowing at any point I could tie Richard, Art, and Bruce in one big square knot and be on my way. That emboldens me and allows me the leeway to tolerate, temporarily, the humiliation without actually resorting to violence. On the plus side, as I keep telling myself, it is wicked interesting, especially seeing another side of the gay experience, and who wouldn't be curious where all this is leading.

I think what's happened with me since Ronny's death is, during the first month or so, it was the only thing I thought about. It was consuming me, occupying most of my mind, but now the trauma has faded somewhat, and I find myself searching for something. I don't know what I'm searching for, but something, and this is what I've found so far. Sure, it's a bizarre start to my search, that's for damn sure, but as I keep telling myself, I'm intrigued by all this shit. What are these assholes all about, ya know?

And, I have the time to think about that kind of thing standing in the corner like a naughty four-year-old. Then, after, well, I'm not sure, maybe ten minutes or so, someone taps me on the shoulder, asking, "Are you okay, pal? Is something wrong?" I mumble, "No, I'm good. I'm just working something out in my head, and this is the way I do it. I'm fine, thank you." Haha, what a lame reason for standing in the corner.

No one else approaches, but I hear snickers and mumblings and then raucous laughter. Not necessarily laughing at me, but probably they are. I know I'd be laughing if my situation was reversed with one of them. There are also numerous unimaginative mumbled 'bad boy' comments, and so forth. The thing is, I don't know these assholes, so I try not to let it get to me, but it is hard to ignore.

It seems a very long time before Bruce again grabs the back of my neck, saying, "Sorry it took so long, but come on, let's get moving." This is the first time I'm glad to feel his too-tight grip on my neck. Then, as we take a walk in the same hotel, I managed to lift my phone from my pocket long enough to see it's now almost nine o'clock. Huh, I must have stood in the corner for a half-hour. Swell.

It's only Bruce and me now, but then I see Richard at the restaurant's entrance talking with someone. It's a man in his early twenties with a haircut like Bruce's and mine. Gee, I guess we'll be four pussy boys for dinner.

Pushing me to the front receptionist, Bruce tells me, "Set us up for four dinners." Letting go of my neck, he gives me a final push. Those were the first words Bruce said since getting me from the corner, and I never thought of saying anything myself. Huh, that's so different from how Bruce and I were on the beach and during the inspection nonsense. Richard probably makes Bruce as uptight as he makes me.

Yeah, and I noticed a new vibe between Bruce and me. I think Bruce standing me in the corner for a half-hour has brought on a new submissive sense in me, one that's settling in permanently. Unfortunately, because of the new submissiveness, I sound like a timid geek at the front desk, saying, "Ah, could we, that is, um, excuse me, but we have, um, we need a table for four for the, ah, buffet." The guy at the desk glances at me like, 'what the fuck? Then he gets the attention of a lady with big hair who sways her fat hips side to side, walking over. The man tells her, "Party of four, I think. If it is, put them in Michael's station."

She wiggles her finger at me, saying, "This way, honey," and smiles showing some lipstick on her large upper teeth. I follow her, and a few seconds later, thank God the other three follow us. They're distracted, chuckling about something that I hope isn't me.

Immediately after getting seated, a waiter comes over, asking if we want drinks. They all order a beer, and Bruce gets carded. The waiter only gives a cursory glance at what has to be fake ID. Handing the ID back, the waiter says, "Sorry for the bother, it's house rules," and, turning to me, he asks, "What can I get for you, sir?" Bruce says, "He's not drinking. Um, just give him water."

The stranger, who appears to be in his mid-twenties now that I see him up close, doesn't get introduced to me, or me to him. He's average-looking, medium height, and build. He has a thin, very forward-pointing nose and an unhealthy-looking complexion. His pussy boy haircut is hardly necessary because of his seriously receding hairline, and he's a loudmouth. He's also a brown-nosing suck-up, very deferential to Richard. His name is Cliff, and he must have some false teeth because they click when he talks.

The beers come, and then the waiter has some things to tell us about special tonight-only items to look for at the buffet. Richard rudely waves the guy away before he's finished telling us his memorized pitch, and that's when Bruce announces, "Gentlemen, my recruit will get our plates for us." He slaps the back of my head, saying, "Listen up!"

Richard says, "Nice idea, Bruce," then he tells me what food to fetch for him and adds, "Also, choose some surprises dishes you hope I'll like." Bruce hits my shoulder, "You heard him. Get going," so I get going. In my head, I'm laughing at myself for doing this, but also laughing at what I'm capable of doing to all these losers if I have a mind to. These guys would be surprised at what I'm physically capable of, but doing that would end my adventure, and I'm not ready to let it go yet. Also, I don't want to get Bruce in trouble.

Anyway, except for the butt plug, I'm feeling fine, drifting a little in my mild submissive state of mind. It's all surreal as if I somehow was transported to a brand new bizarro world. It certainly is completely different from my prior four years in the military, or is it? If I'm honest about it, there were many absurd parts of military life, dumb and/or unnecessary things required of us grunts because that's just the way it's always been, and we never questioned anything. Well, we bitched about lots of stuff, but we followed orders too. I was never submissive in the military, per se, but I did what I was told, so what's the difference?

Richard starts eating as soon as I put the plate of food in front of him and, the seemingly impatient Cliff, huffily tells me what he wants from the buffet, shouting it, actually. Then he says to Bruce, "Tell your boy to rustle up our waiter too. I need to switch from this beer to a real drink."

Bruce says to me, "You heard him." I say, "Yes, Bruce," and feel my dick squirm in my too-small jeans. Oh boy, my dick-squirm was a result of this brand-new, Bruce-induced, submissive state of mind. It's pretty weak, but I like it, and Bruce is seemingly getting more and more confident giving me orders. He's young, but he has a sort of authoritative manner about him I hadn't noticed until now.

Anyway, as I said, I'm feeling pretty good after that submissive twinge in my dick, so off I go to fetch our waiter. I flag him down and then stand in the buffet line again, this time to get Cliff's plate of food. I can feel people gawking at me, gawking at the way I'm standing and walking because of the butt plug up my ass, but there's nothing I can do about that.

Hell, the gawking is understandable considering I'm walking as if I have a load in my pants, and these gawkers have plenty of chances to gawk because I need to do a helluva lot of walking back and forth to the buffet, plus running other errands for the big shots. Constantly on my mind is the butt plug. It's rubbing none-stop against my prostate gland, keeping me on the very edge of springing a boner, or worse, pumping out a plop of cum. Those worries seriously complicate my efforts to remember all the different food dishes each guy wants. This isn't as simple a task as it should be, in other words.

After getting Bruce's plate, he says, "Richard wants seconds," and Richard tells me to take his plate away and get him a new one and blah, blah, blah. Then Cliff wants seconds on the crab legs, and they all want another drink, so I need to find our waiter again. It's twenty-after-ten before Bruce tells me, "Get something quick for yourself; we're almost ready for desserts." I'm not hungry, but I get a little food and then run back and forth, getting desserts for my superiors.

Except for saying, "Yes, Bruce," a few times, I haven't spoken at all during dinner, and, except for Bruce giving me orders and me listening to the guys telling me what to bring them from the buffet, no one has spoken to me. Not in any conversational way. I'm just a flunky and not worth talking to.

I have heard snippets of their conversation while going back and forth to the buffet line. Mostly it's been Richard pontificating about how an ideal pussy boy should act. He also describes an upcoming outing for the ten pussy boys who had the best records over the past three months. They'll be going to the Caribbean for five days. Then he went on and on about a big trip some lucky pussy boys would be going on in September to a beach in Iceland where there is, supposedly, the best black-sand beach in the world, and blah, blah, blah with Cliff and Bruce hanging on Richard's every word.

Then, abruptly, Richard says, "We're done here! Bruce, send your boy to get our waiter." I do that, Richard pays, and then Bruce uses a rough hold on my upper arm to lead me out of the restaurant. We all go out to the boardwalk where Cliff says his goodbyes to Richard, with only a quick nod to Bruce. Then Cliff takes his clicking teeth with him and walks away without the slightest acknowledgment that I'm even here. He's obviously at a higher rank in the group's hierarchy than Bruce, and I didn't even register with him.

Richard tells Bruce, "Christ, I'm horny! Get your boy naked, lubricated, and bent over the desk in my office. He'll need a hard spanking to begin things. Um, I'll be there after I return a call to New York, which I'll do out here on the boardwalk enjoying the fresh ocean breeze." Bruce nods, "Yes, Richards," and jerks on my arm, saying, "Get moving, boy."

I'm wicked anxious to get the butt plug out, so I hustle down the boardwalk with Bruce telling me, "Slowdown, Goddammit!" Even though we're alone now, he's still using the same authoritative voice I heard in the restaurant, a much more confident one than he had before dinner. I say, "Yes, Bruce," without thinking I'd say that, and then notice another stab of submissiveness toward him. Hmm.

Inside the locker room office, he says, "Get your clothes off quickly, including the jockstrap." As I'm doing that, he tells me, "When Richard comes in here, I'm going to be spanking you pretty hard. I'll do it, so he won't think he needs to do it. He'd use the tennis racket and spank the shit out of you. I know because he did it to me, and I needed some stitches in my buttocks afterward. I'm looking out for you the best I can, Zachery, but there are rules I can't avoid."

I'm not so sure he couldn't do more, then as I pull off the gross jockstrap I've been wearing, something occurs to me, and I raise my hand, looking pleadingly into Bruce's big brown eyes. He sighs and says, "What is it now? You're not supposed to be saying anything!" I go, "I'm sorry, Bruce, but would you please talk Richard into letting you be the one who disciplines me tomorrow instead of Art?"

He makes an annoyed 'face,' then mumbles, "Maybe, but for now, pick up those damn clothes you just dropped on the floor and fold them neatly. Um, then put them over there on the side chair." I do that quickly as Bruce takes a peek out the door, I assume to see if Richard's in the building yet. Turning back to me, in the most confident voice he's used yet, he says, "No more talking, and I mean it! Lie your chest on the desk and grip the edge of the desktop on the other side." Naked, I do that and then automatically push my ass up.

Reverting to the old Bruce, the one I know better, he gasps, I suppose at seeing my ass again. I can't think of another reason he'd have for gasping. I seriously wasn't aware my ass was gasp-worthy. Whatever, he rubs my butt cheeks with both hands, massaging both cheeks, and, even with the butt plug still in place, the massage feels good. Then, taking a deep breath, he begins unscrewing the plug, and I soon feel as though I'm going to cum. I don't, but the sizzling sensations coming from my prostate are strong. I can't stop grunting and squirming on the desk, moving my feet a little. Bruce ignores that, totally preoccupied with the butt plug removal, seemingly highly aroused doing it.

Omigod, as soon as the plug is out, a rush of cold air goes up my wide-open anus making me shiver while Bruce rubs his crotch. After a breathy inhale and exhale, Bruce gets the KY Jelly from the bathroom. With a glob of it on his finger, he's making another wheezy-breathing sound moving his slippery fingertip slowly around the greatly opened circle of my asshole.

Round and round the big open circle of asshole goes his slippery finger. The circle feels to me as if it's a BIG motherfucking circle. Bruce gasps again before mumbling, "You're not as wide-open as my cock, and Richard's cock is bigger around than mine, so when he shoves it in, there will be pain. I shouldn't last long, and only from Richard. You'll be wide open enough after Richard fucks you that shoving my hard cock up there probably won't hurt either of us at all."

Then, he rubs directly on my prostate. Circling rubs with the pad on his forefinger, round and round until I go, "Awk," at a flop of cum that spurts out of my flaccid dick exactly like it did the last time he rubbed my prostate. The plop of cum drops to the flood with Bruce giggling, then saying, "That gave me a boner."

I gasp a little myself now. Yeah, that was sort of, um, a climax I just had. Conscientious Bruce is looking out the door again, this time mumbling, "He just came in, so I'm going to begin spanking you. I'm hoping that will satisfy him."

He gives my ass a hard slap, then says, "Keep your ass up through your entire spanking," and then begins hard slaps on my ass using his hand. It's not bad at first, but soon the stinging has my full attention as my buttocks begin burning hotter and hotter with every smack. Trying not to be a pussy about this, plus remembering to keep my ass up, I'm somehow able not to yell, stop!

That wouldn't have done much good anyway as Bruce never gave me a 'stop' signal, and using the one I tell my sex bottoms to use wouldn't be of any help here. Wow, though, it seems the spanking is going to go on forever, and my eyes are watering, but I'm the only one who knows that as my face is bouncing a little on the desktop with each slap on my ass. Then, with my ass about to burst into flames, I hear Richard mutter, "Um, Bruce, shouldn't you be using the tennis racket for that?"

Grunting from the effort of spanking me, Bruce goes, "I used it on him before dinner. Now I thought my hand would be a better tenderizer getting his ass loose in preparation for you to fuck him." What bullshit.

Richard buys it, though, and mutters, "Huh, good thinking." Bruce gives my ass a few more smacks, then stops. My buttocks are on fire, but I don't say a word. Moving my eyes only, I see motion and assume Bruce and Richard are taking their clothes off. They both appear to like being naked. I mean, they take their clothes off at the drop of a hat, so maybe this is also a nudist-type club.

As the hot stinging of my buttocks slowly begins to simmer down, I realize something obvious that I should have figured out sooner. It's that Bruce had learned how to keep under wraps the goofiness I witnessed in him when we were together earlier. He keeps it under wraps by not mentioning any of his freethinking ideas to Richard. Instead, Bruce goes totally by the book in his communications with Richard, who I believe actually thinks Bruce is competent. Of course, I could blow that misconception out of the water by telling Richard some of the things I know about Bruce.

No-no, though, I'm not inclined to do that because Bruce is the closest thing to an ally I've got in this, um, whatever this is. Still, I have ammunition against Bruce if he turns into Mr. Hyde, although I'd be shocked if he did. Nah, there's simply no chance of that happening because Bruce doesn't have the sadistic, cruel streak in him that both Richard and Art have.

Richard, sounding impatient, says, "If you're done spanking his ass, get him off the desk and over here. Your boy needs to lick some balls and suck some cock." With a hand at the back of my neck, Bruce drags me off the desk and pushes me onto my knees, then Richard says, "First, I need to record Zachery asking to suck some dick," and he holds his cell phone up. Sounding bored, he asks, "Zachery, dude, are you sure you want to have oral and anal sex with Bruce and me?" Bruce goes, "Speak up," and I say, "Yes, I want to suck both your cocks and then feel them in my ass." Richard mutters, "Bingo."

Bruce rubs my head, saying to Richard, "See? He's been responding very well since I got extra rough with him earlier." Then he says to me, "Go ahead, boy, pick up Richard's cock and get to it." Maybe I'll purr for Bruce the next time he rubs my head, and... what's with the recording? Who does he think he could blackmail me with that? Everybody who knows me knows I've been actively gay since I was in grade school. And, I don't need a job because of my trust fund, and I've no intention of re-upping with the Seals, not without Ronny. So, what good is the recording?

Forgetting about that, I take hold of Richard's cock, and, Omigod, it's mindboggling! This fat eight-inch cock hanging there between his short hairless legs doesn't seem real. Looking at it through slitted eyelids, it looks like one of those tube creatures discovered near volcanic hot spots half a mile deep in the ocean. I hesitate, then hear Bruce say, "What are you waiting for, boy?" so I begin licking and sucking the large head of his limp penis, then I lick all along the shaft. What I'd rather be doing is sucking Bruce's cock. That thought brings to mind something I knew in prep school and college but blanked from my mind during the Navy Seal years. It's that I liked sucking cock!

And, after spending time with Bruce, there's no doubt who I like more between him and Richard and, in fact, I guess I don't like Richard much at all now, and I don't care how good-looking or Japanese he is. His good looks, amazing looks actually, attracted me initially. Then I discovered he's ugly inside; his attractiveness is barely skin deep.

I do, however, want to experience another one of his fucks. His hard cock grows to nine inches, and, after the early pain, there is a tsunami of pleasure coming from that ginormous boner traveling in my rectum and up into my bowels, visiting areas that have never been stimulated from the outside before. It becomes a thrilling ride to a huge climax. Sure, Bruce partially drained my balls ten minutes ago with that prostate massage, and that will cut down significantly on my cum explosion, but the climax part is still going to be a huge event for me.

With those thoughts percolating in my head, I'm seriously into sucking Richard's cock, and he's into it as well. He's grunting, rubbing my head, and shuffling his feet. It isn't long before he squawks out, "Okay, good. That's good, boy! Stop..." I take his cock out of my mouth and look up at him while still holding his hard cock in my fingers, dripping with spit. He takes a deep breath and says breathlessly, "Get my nuts dripping with spit too."

This hairless thing Richard insists on is a great aid to cocksuckers, simplifying everything. I never minded a hairy male body or hairy balls, but I've found, now that I'm into sucking cock again, I like this shaved pubic hair deal better.

Bruce was staring at me the entire time I was sucking Richard's cock, his big brown eyes even bigger than normal as he played with himself. And now, he's staring at me again, his mouth slightly opened, as I lick Richard's scrotum. Each lick beginning near his asshole traveling up his scrotum with enough pressure to move his nuts around, my tongue out as far as I can get it as I lick up, up, up from the bottom of his scrotum up and over the top, then all the way to the root of his hard cock with me holding that big boner out of the way against the side of my face. I do the long scrotum licking a number of times, only stopping when a squirt of pre-cum hits my forehead and begins drooling down toward my left eye. I swipe at it with my fingers as Richard goes, "Whoops, haha. Did you see that, Bruce?" Bruce gulps, muttering, "Uh-huh, Omigod yeah, ah, I mean, yes, Richard."

Richard steps away from me, pulling his boner from my fingers. He nods at me, saying to Bruce, "Get him back on the desk." Bruce barely needs to touch me as I'm now cooperating with him without consciously thinking about it. I slide back onto the desktop, mostly on my own, with that submissive sense getting stronger in my brain. My stomach and chest are flat on the desk again, my hands holding onto the far edge of the desktop.

Because he's short, I leave my ass at desk level for Richard and wait as my heart beats fast against the desktop blotter. Richard gives my buttocks a few hard slaps; of course, he does. Then he mounts me and thank God for Bruce lubing my anus with globs of jelly lube and also for the butt plug opening me up wide. Even so, the pain when Richard forced his huge boner inside me felt almost as bad as the first time he shoved that mammoth boner up my ass.

A lot of salivae accumulates and spreads on the desktop around my chin and cheeks as I do a shuddering series of garbled sounds with my mouth against the desk, trying my best to deal with the pain without screaming. The weird sounds I'm making as the pain soars don't sound like screams to me, but Richard says, "Get that fucking ball gag, Bruce."

Bruce takes a long time doing that, on purpose, I'm guessing. Anyway, by the time he's back with that disgusting gag, I've settled down some as the pain diminished much faster than it did the first time. Now I'm only making low groans of pain, and soon not even that because I've reached the neutral zone of no real pain, but no pleasure yet either.

Richard couldn't care less what my pain level is as he's been grunting with each long thrust up inside me right from the start, and now beads of sweat from his forehead are dropping on my lower back as he leans over me, putting everything he's got into each hard, fast thrust. I don't want even to imagine what damage he could do to my ass if he were a bigger, heavier guy. If he was fifty pounds heavier with that big cock of his, he could split me in half. He's only about a hundred and thirty pounds, though, and with "Slap, slap, slap," sounds reverberate in my ears, I go, "Um, um, um," bouncing on the desktop, waiting for the sexual pleasure to round the bend.

After a minute or so, the pleasure train pulls into the station and takes over the proceedings, turning my grunts and groans into embarrassing moans of pleasure. Another two minutes of that, and I'm encouraging Richard, "Ahh, ahh, oh, oh, oh. It feels so good, ooooh! Richard fuck me."

Completely lost now in the raw sexual pleasure, I'm squirming unabashedly on the desk and not caring that I'm acting like a dork who's getting fucked for the first time. I can't stop my pathetic moaning, quiet moaning at the soaring pleasure, wave after wave of pleasure coming like a flood from my rectum spreading out all around my groin, then all over me.

However, the immense sexual pleasure of that enormous cock is the only thing differentiating this from random pick-up fuck. That's because I have no more feelings for Richard than I had for Joe Smith or any casual pick-up. Yes, I thought Richard was special the night I met him, but now he's just a big cock to me.

Now that I think about it, I never had any real feelings for him. I mean, other than being enamored by his attractiveness, but then quickly changed into, mostly, just the thought of getting fucked by that big cock, which was my only reason for wanting to see him again tonight. His good looks, to him being part Japanese, no longer has anything to do with it. Tonight was all about me validating my assumption from the first fuck that it was worth the pain, and I was right... it is.

And, no, I'm not saying I'd want a steady diet of this, and I probably have had my fill of it forever with this fuck. In fact, I think that's the case, not that I'll have a lot of say in the matter assuming I qualify, and I am going to do that for the reasons I was thinking about on the boardwalk after that dink, Art had his way with me. I'll qualify as a matter of principle if for nothing else. I mean, how the hell wouldn't I qualify if Bruce did?

Then, my climax hits, and I almost lift off the desk bringing Richard along with me as my hot creamy stream of cum, a microsecond later, is splattering against the front desk drawer with me squealing out a screechy sound and almost passing out. Omigod, I shudder all over at the after-effects swarming around me and, for a few seconds, it's as if nothing else in the universe is happening, just this climax.

Richard's huge boner continues plowing my ass for another minute or so until, with a scary gasping sound, he slams against my buttocks and humps a big load of cum up inside me as he's making disturbingly loud breathing sounds. Then, with the next hump against my buttocks, I assume he's pumping the second load of semen into my bowels. Oh man, it really feels squishy in my empty bowels, empty thanks to Bruce giving me that enema.

Still making very loud breathing noises, Richard pulls out his big boner, and then the whole world flies into my wide-open asshole. That what it felt like, a rush of air along with everything else. Bruce says excitedly, "Richard, that was fantastic to watch! And, um, what an unbelievably magnificent fuck." Brown-nosing Bruce is at it again.

Richard slaps my ass, muttering, "That's a damn good ass on your recruit, Bruce. I suggest you keep it filled up and wide open with overnight butt plugs. Just for the hell of it, if you can qualify him when you have him back in Atlantic City, I'll be using his asshole in between his assignments. You'll enjoy it too, I'm sure, but he'll belong to you, so..."

As Richard begins getting dressed, Bruce is like, "Are you done already, Richard? I thought..." but Richard cuts him off, saying, "It's this Goddamn New York trip tomorrow. I've got to be there at eight o'clock in the morning. That sucks for me but works for you. Now, you can feel free to fuck your recruit all night if you want. He's your boy." Bruce goes, "Gee, well, um, it's too bad you need to leave. I had him all prepared for you."

Pulling up his shorts, which are like the shorts he had on when I met him, reaching past his knees, Richard says, "You're doing a good job with him, Bruce, but you don't need to keep reminding me of that; every two minutes."

As they discuss me, I'm still on the desktop, forgotten. My face is wet from the spit spray I spewed out, trying not to scream, instead making those unusual non-screaming sounds.

Richard's ready to leave, which is more than fine with me. I got what I wanted from him, and now I'm happy to see him go. Strangely, he doesn't say anything to me, but I suppose that's because I'm Bruce's property now. He says to Bruce, "I'll look for your weekly progress report, and I expect progress too. No matter what you think, Bruce, I know Zachery's type, and he's playing you a little bit, taking you in. Don't fall for it. Guys like him still think they're hot shits, so you'll need to disavow him of that notion."

Bruce goes, "Yes, Richard. I'm going to do that, but, um, I've got a conflict." Richard's obviously impatient to leave, asking, "Well, what is it? I gotta get out of here." Bruce says, "I want to work with my boy tomorrow all day. The first full day you've always told us is the most important one, but he has a twelve o'clock punishment appointment with Art."

Heading for the door, Richard says over his shoulder, "You out-rant Art, tell him you'll punish the recruit yourself, and if he doesn't like it, he can go fuck himself. You have the right to all of this recruit's time. See ya," And he's gone. Now it's quiet in here, and I'm able to breathe a sigh of relief. Good, I won't need to see that fat fuck, Art, tomorrow. Way to go, Bruce!

Bruce sounds relieved Richard is gone too, saying, "Whew, I can finally relax. I've been under a lot of stress tonight." Then, in an off-hand manner, he tells me, "It's alright, you can get off the desk now."

Then, blowing out his cheeks, making a long exhale sound, he seems more like the Bruce I know from earlier; he goes, "Don't fret thinking I've forgotten. I'll be fucking you later, but not on the desk." He pulls on his dick, saying wistfully, "I prefer doing it with you leaning over, hands on your knees, desperately pushing up your ass, indicating you're anxious for me to use it any way I want. And, I will be using dildos later too. Not tonight, but that's one of the things I'm known for, Zachery... dildos." Huh, known by whom? I'm his first recruit. I don't say any of that out loud, obviously.

Sliding off the desktop, standing a lot of Richard's cum drools out of my super-wide-opened asshole, running onto the back of my legs and down to my calves. Standing now, I'm waiting for him to tell me what to do. Still squeezing his seven-inch cock that's flaccid again, he asks, "Do you think I impressed Richard?" Nodding, I say enthusiastically, "Yes, definitely, Bruce! I thought you impressed the hell out of him. You impressed me too, actually. You've been great all night."

He's nodding his head looking smug, then, as if he just remembered he's the boss, he goes, "Well, don't just stand there, get into the bathroom and clean yourself up. Ah, haha, leave some of Richard's cum up your ass. I want to fuck you sloppy seconds."

That's weird, but I go, "Yes, Bruce," and go quickly into the bathroom, snickering to myself, thinking, 'Yes, master.' In the bathroom, I turn my back to the sink and push up my ass, trying to see a reflection of how wide Richard's big cock opened me up. The mirror is too high, though. Hmm, but maybe if I... Then I hear, "Hurry up in there!" So I stop fucking around with that and hurriedly clean my buttocks and the back of my legs.

Hustling back to the office, Bruce motions with his finger for me to come over to the couch where he's sitting, still naked. He twirls his finger in a circle, saying, "Turn around. I want your back to me and then bend over. Let's see how well you cleaned yourself."

I do that, and he starts rubbing my butt cheeks, saying, "Back up more so I don't need to lean forward." I do what he says, but he still smacks my ass, saying sternly, "What do you say when I give you an order?" I mumble, "Oh, I say, yes, Bruce." He slaps me again, "Don't take it for granted that I'll let you slide on everything. That insults me." I say, "I'm sorry. I apologize, Bruce." And I am sorry. He's trying to be a good guy, and he got me out of that horseshit with Art tomorrow.

Then, without me feeling it at first, he puts his finger in my asshole, muttering, "It's still too wide open for you to feel my boner going in." He's pressing my prostate button again, mumbling, "No reason to hurry, I'll wait for your anus to close up a little." Then, being stern again, he demands, "Turn around and suck me off the way you did, Richard. In case you don't know it, you need to please me more than him. I'm your mentor, for Christ's sake! Use your head."

He has no way of knowing this, but I've been wanting to suck his dick ever since I felt that stab of submissiveness standing in the corner. It took me, by surprise, that momentary sense of submissiveness to this young kid. Totally unexpected, but quite nice and very different than when I felt something similar for Art and Richard. It was almost a sweet submissive feeling, the one I felt for Bruce.

So, anxious to taste his cock, I turn around too fast, and he goes, "Slow down, dammit! You stepped on my 'effing foot. It's nice that you're anxious to do what I said but don't anticipate. Wait for me to tell you what's next." "Yes, Bruce. Sorry."

Sitting up straighter, he goes, "Okay, forget that. Get down on your knees." As I do that, Bruce sits back further on the sofa and says, "Obviously, you'll need to lean over more than that, and I want one of your hands under my right butt cheek too. I'll be sitting on it, in other words. You'll need the other hand to lift and hold my big cock while sucking it."

His back is now against the cushion of this stupidly deep sofa, so I really do need to lean over, leaning over so far my crotch gets squished against the front of the sofa. Then, I'm trying to squeeze my hand under his buttocks. That is, until he yells, "NO! Not like that. Do it with your palm up, Zachery. How many times do I need to tell you to use your fucking head."

Pulling my hand out, I mumble a timid, "Yes, Bruce, you're right, of course," I do it with my knuckles dragging on the seat cushion until my left hand is fully under his right butt cheek." He goes, "Good, give it a squeeze," so I give it a couple of squeezes. I already knew he had a hot, cute ass.

Bruce says, "Now drop your face onto my crotch." Stretching as much as I can, I get my face over his crotch, and, with a hand behind my head, he gently pulls my head down until my face is squished against his dick and balls, my ears touching the inside of his thighs on both sides.

He says, "Do ten or twelve deep inhales, and I want to hear them. Long, deep, noisy ones, so you're getting the full smell of my crotch, groin, everything between my legs. We'll do this exercise three or four times every day for at least three weeks. After a few days, my personal smell will become your favorite smell in the world. Later, we'll do the same exercise for my ass because I'll be expecting daily deep rimming of my asshole, but I don't want to overwhelm you all at once."

Fuck that rimming idea of his, but I decided some time ago that I like his scent. One reason for that is because it's so similar to Cowboy's scent. Bruce goes on talking a blue streak, but I can't hear what he's saying because he closed his thighs tightly against my ears.

Finally, lifting my head, I hear him say, "... my own invention, well, not an invention. I meant to say innovation. A process that will get recruits, guys like you looking for someone that will lead then, be their leader in helping them better themselves. They'll want to latch onto something familiar... my smell, me. My scent will help you become fully submissive to me, which is the whole point. Richard, of course, takes the best of the recruits for the slave/master relationships he likes, but you probably can only hope to qualify for a sub/dom one with me. I intend to help you with that. You're my first recruit, so, like a mother's first child, you'll probably be my favorite pussy boy ever. What do you think about that?"

Okay, uh-huh, sure, who can argue with that logic? Jesus, just when I was beginning to really like him and that touch of submission I sensed toward him, he goes off the rails again. He had a few nutty episodes before dinner, but this one tops everything. I say, "Um, that sounds like a foolproof plan."

Bruce thinks about that, then says, "Who's the fool, Zachery? I don't like that word when referring to my innovative concept." Oh boy! Well, here goes. I say, "You're obviously not a fool. I said foolproof. Like idiot-proof, meaning even an idiot or a fool would have to agree your innovation is so clearly correct they couldn't disagree with it." He says, "I'm still not sure... Um, you're still talking too much too, and, hey, you didn't talk too much when Richard was here. If you think you're playing me for a fool, think again."

I know what's happening here. I figured it out earlier. When Bruce is with Richard, he simply follows whatever is in the, um, manual for mentors, or whatever it's called. By sticking with that, he doesn't go nutty. It's when he's free-thinking on his own; that's when the kooky Bruce appears. Yep, that's gotta, be it.

He goes, "We got sidetracked. Listen, I understand why you might think this is a crazy idea, but all innovators are called crazy at first. Anyway, it doesn't matter what you think; you'll do as I say. So, do the deep inhales of my private parts, and we'll see how crazy you think I am a week from now when you won't be able to get enough of how my body smells."

Resigned to this latest goofiness, I drop my face between his thighs as he repeats himself, "Ten big inhales!" Fine, I inhale his scent, which I've already said several times, I liked. Making heavy breathy sounds to please him, I notice that I'm not smelling anything by the third inhale. Used to his scent, it becomes unnoticeable. It's overkill. I might as well inhale air from the room. His scent is subtle to start with, as most body scents are, and instead of becoming addicted to it, I don't smell it at all after getting familiar with it. And, without realizing it, my hand is out from under Bruce's ass, and neither of us noticed that.

After doing the ten inhales, I lift my head and look at him, like, what now? He says, "Do some more," so I do three more, but that's all I'm going to do because I'm getting to the point where my oxygen/carbon dioxide exchange is going to have me hyperventilating any minute now. I mention that to Bruce, and he goes, "Oh, I didn't think of that. Okay, you did good. You're doing what you're told again. Keep it up."

Normalizing my breathing, I nod my head, which he slaps, but not hard, and I remember to mumble, "Yes, Bruce." He mutters, "You know what? I shouldn't tell you this, but I really like you, Zachery. Anyway, that's enough for now, but we'll be doing that exercise many, many times. Also, the same exercise in my buttocks/asshole area. For now, though, you get your reward. You get to suck your dom's cock." Actually, I am very anxious to do that because he has a big, really primo-looking penis. Seriously!

I need to admit that Richard's responsible for getting me back into a cock sucking frame of mind, so I give him props for that. As I've said, I did lots of cock sucking back in the day and liked doing it very much. Well, maybe not as much as Cowboy likes sucking dick, but I did get into it at prep school quite a bit, and now I'm into it again. I've always especially liked sucking cocks like Bruce's, and I don't just mean the size. It's the 'look' of it; Bruce's penis is a picture; it's almost pretty.

He gently pushes my head down again, and I use an old technique of mine to lip the head of his cock into my gripping lips without using my hands, just my tongue. That used to impress my gay prep school buddies, but with my whole face in his crotch, Bruce couldn't tell I did that, so it was kinda a wasted effort. He goes, "Give me the best blowjob you've ever given anyone. Make me proud of you."

I actually didn't need his encouragement because the fun of sucking cock has come roaring back into my memory banks. I'm already gobbling up his cock, my lips sucking the shaft and head, my tongue lapping all over it, saliva drooling off his cock, down my chin while my fingers slowly are stroking the half shaft that I can't fit in my mouth.

Bruce is hopping on the sofa cushions leaning hard against the back, lifting his hips, and rubbing my head, his fingers ruffling back my half-inch hair. And, shockingly, just like happens to Cowboy, sucking cock gets my penis quickly growing into a steel shaft with my balls churning up semen.

After a couple of minutes, Bruce's cock isn't going to get much harder than this, so I close my lip-covered teeth tightly on the shaft and bob my head back and forth, in effect jerking him off with my lips. Shortly, he lifts his hips off the sofa, spastically grunting until he makes a strangled, "Umph" sound and blows a big load of cum down my throat. My head pulls back a little, just in time for his second shorter shot of cum to blasts into my mouth, coating my tongue and cheeks with his amazingly sweet tasting creamy cum.

Holy shit, another thirty seconds, and I would have blown my load the way Cowboy sometimes does when sucking me off. Awesome oral sex on Bruce's cock. Then Bruce chirps in with, "Holy fuck, you're good! That was a dom-worthy blowjob right there. You get a gold star, recruit."

Fuck the gold star; I enjoyed the hell out of doing that! I say, "You've got one of the best dicks I've had the pleasure to blow, so part of the credit goes to you and your penis." He lifts his wet dick, mumbling, "Yep, he's a beauty, alright." He strokes his pretty penis, bringing one last bubble of com, squeezing out and glistening at the piss slit. Bruce nods his head at the cum-bubble, and I lean my head down to tongue it into my mouth. Sweet tasting, it really is.

Bruce shuffles forward on the deep couch cushion, saying, "That was excellent, Zachery! Now we'll put our shorts on and grab a cigarette outside." We both stand as he adds, "One cigarette, that's all you're allowed. I'm giving you a treat because you did an outstanding blow job for your dom." When the hell was it that he switched to referring to him as 'dom'? I'm not sure, but it probably applies anyway, so what's the harm.

Yeah, and I could definitely go for a smoke. It is, however, a bit disconcerting to me how easily I slipped back into the nicotine routine. Four years without a cigarette, then I smoked one or two, and I'm right back in the habit. Well, fuck it, I like smoking.

We put on our shorts and walk barefoot out onto the boardwalk without shirts. The night has cleared from the cloudiness of earlier, and it's another star-filled sky. Bruce has my pack of Marlboro, and, with a cigarette between his lips, he offers me one. Taking it, I mutter, "Thanks," and we light up. Bruce inhales deeply as he did with the first two cigarettes he smoked on the beach.

Exhaling, he says, "It's hard for me to believe I was so tense and apprehensive when I first saw you. Holy crap, I was thinking, I've got to break this guy down? How the fuck does Richard expect me to do that? Now, three hours later, I've done a helluva job of getting you to buckle under and do what I tell you. I'm not boasting, but it's very satisfying, and my mentoring confidence has gone through the roof."

When I don't comment, he bumps my shoulder, mumbling, "What have you to say to that?" Shrugging, I'm thinking, there goes kooky Bruce again. But then, hmm, maybe I can find out how old he is. So, I exaggerate his age ridiculously, saying, "I think you did a commendable job of getting me to know my place, especially for a guy who's probably, I'm just guessing, only twenty-four." He goes, "Twenty-four! What the fuck? I'm only nineteen! Christ, do I look twenty-four to you? Most people guess my age at seventeen, or even sixteen."

Ha, that was easy. Covering my tracks, so to speak, I say, "Oh, not your looks. I meant the way you handle yourself." He goes, "Oh, that. Yeah, I see what you mean." I add, "You're an awesome-looking nineteen, though; I'll give you that." He says, "Flattery, huh? And from someone as handsome as you. Please!" I go, "No, I'm serious, Bruce, you're a good-looking dude, cute even, if you don't mind me saying so."

We wander over to the boardwalk's far railing as Bruce drags off his cigarette so hard the ash glows a bright red, then he says, "Well, no, I don't mind you saying that. Thanks for noticing." If he could eliminate his propensity for going looney on me now and then, I could get into this kid. Or am I projecting Cowboy into my thinking? One thing I know for sure... I am definitely not involving Cowboy in any of this, um, whatever this is I'm involved in. I'm maintaining two separate worlds.

Looking pleased with himself, Bruce gazes out at the ocean while I'm thinking about what he said a minute ago about qualifying guys to perform in a slave/master relationship with Richard or, for lesser qualified pussy boys, getting them in sub/dom relationships with their mentors. That's not happening, although it may be Bruce's goal. But that can't possibly be the ultimate purpose? This is way too elaborate an operation just to find submissive guys to have sex with. Oh, excuse me, submissive guys who do what they're told to have sex with.

There's more to it than that. And the 'more' is what intrigues me. Richard is doing all this with some other purpose. The slave/master deal is perhaps a sideline, but there's something more important than that, or these guys are sadistic idiots.

Before I'm halfway finished with my cigarette, Bruce is lighting his second off the first. He goes to flick the first butt over the railing onto the beach but stops and hands the burning butt to me, saying, "I almost forgot that I put you in charge of cigarette butts."

That reminds me of something, and I go, "Um if it's not too presumptuous of me to ask, ah, do you know how I can score some weed?" He shrugs, "It's okay for you to ask me stuff, um, as long as it's not of a personal nature. I'm your leader, and you're not from around here, so you'll naturally have questions. By the way, Richard filled me in on all the information you told him about yourself the night he met you, so I know all about you."

I wait, and when he doesn't go on, I'm like, "Um, yeah, I spilled my guts to him that night, so, um, about the weed?" He goes, "Oh, yeah, no problem. I'll hook you up with a buddy I graduated high school with last spring. He's a minor drug dealer, but he's got pot coming out his ass." I go, "Does he have any that's not coming out his ass?" Bruce spits out a saliva spray as he barks out a laugh, and goes, "Holy shit, that's funny," and he hugs my shoulders adding, 'You're a hot shit, aren't you?"

If I can score some pot tomorrow, Cowboy is going to be wicked happy. That boy loves him some weed to smoke. Still chuckling, Bruce finishes his second cigarette as I'm finishing my first. He hands me that butt too, saying, "Okay, we'll go back inside, and I'll have you rim my ass really well before I fuck you, and then we'll call it a night."

I must have a startled expression because of the rimming thing. He misinterprets, pats my shoulder, saying, "Don't look so worried. You'll see plenty of me; I'm not abandoning you. I'll be working on you for six weeks. We'll continue tomorrow, and I'll expect you to be ready to go again at ten o'clock tomorrow morning at my apartment. Oh, remind me to give you the address." Then he goes on kookily, adding, "Well, to be perfectly honest, it's not my apartment as I share it with a buddy of mine, but I call it my apartment because he's away for most of the summer. That works out well for us, huh?"

I drop the three cigarette butts in a trash barrel two feet away and say, "Uh-huh, you share the apartment, but, um, about the rimming thing, ah, that's something I don't do, Bruce. Almost anything else, but that." He pats my back, chuckling, and then says, "You are so misguided, but you're a new recruit, so... Ya see, recruits do not decide what they'll do or won't do. Their mentors decide that, and you will rim my ass and like it. Now, no more of that nonsense. Things are going along too well for you to screw things up now."

Lightly holding the back of my neck, he says, "Get moving, boy." I swore I'd never rim anyone's ass, and I never have. Now, though, it looks like I'm going to do it because I don't want the night to end on a sour note either, plus I very much want Bruce to fuck me. I'm seriously into bottoming again, as my days of bottoming going back years. And I'd be wicked disappointed if I missed out on doing that with Bruce tonight. And his thirty-second fuck when he couldn't control himself doesn't count.

Inside, Bruce says, "Drop your shorts and bend over, but don't put your hands on your knees. You'll need them to spread my butt cheeks so you can get your face right in there. As a beginner to rimming, get your nose pushing on my asshole to start." Well, this is another of those things where I think... I've done so many other things already, am I going to waste all that effort and quit, or do this one extra thing, hoping it's the last one?

Of course, I'll do this one more thing. Dropping my shorts and then putting them on the chair before being told to, I bend over and wait for Bruce to tell me what comes next. He doesn't tell me anything; he just bends over and back up until his ass hits my face. Spreading his butt cheeks, I gawk at his rosebud tight anus. Huh, the hairless deal really helps here. Stiff hairs around his asshole might be a deal-breaker, and everything I've gone through would be for naught. There are no ass hairs, though, and as I've noticed all night, this kid's body is super clean and smells nice. His ass areas are no exception.

I do what he said and put my nose against his asshole and... and nothing. He has the same body smell here he has in his crotch, which is to say, a subtle, pleasant one. It's as if he doesn't shit out his ass. He says, "What are you waiting for, Zachery? Spread my buttocks and do what I told you." I already have my nose against his asshole. Does he assume I'll figures out what else to do on my own?

Bruce says, "I love this! Yeah, getting my ass rimmed I love so 'effing much, so go ahead, Zachery, lick your dom's ass really well, and you'll get some brownie points with me." Hmm, he could have used a different word than 'brownie.' Anyhow, it is kind of obvious, so here goes. I do a tentative lick, first on his left butt cheek, all pinkish-white, hairless, and clean-smelling.

Huh, that was no big deal either, so I do it again and then lick right over his anus and... and nothing again. It was like licking his belly button. The stuff I'm learning from these guys, fascinating shit. Oops, another bad choice of words. But, yeah, I'm re-learning things I used to know but submerged into my subconscious during my Navy Seal years. Not rimming because I never did that, but I'm happy to get reacquainted with sucking and bottoming.

I'd probably have remembered to start up with those things eventually anyway, but this exposure to Richard and Bruce speeded up the process. So, what the fuck, I'll make Bruce happy. I start continuous licks over his asshole and soon feel the lips quivering under my tongue. That gave me a start... It's alive! The quivering asshole lips took me by surprise, ya know?

Bruce says, "You're doing great. Try getting your tongue inside my asshole." The craziest thing is, I'm now feeling the most dreamy submissiveness and it's like flowing over me. It's obviously a result of Bruce making me lick his asshole. So, in another semi-stupor, I try fucking his ass with my tongue, realizing that I want to do this for him somewhere in my brain. My submissive feeling toward Bruce is very calming, enjoyable, so I try my best to get my tongue inside his ass. Licking his asshole real fast six times, then when it's loose, I try pushing my tongue in, but without success.

Finally, after I don't know how long, from far away, I hear Bruce saying, "Haha, you can stop now, you crazy rimming bastard, stop or I'll blow my load, and I want to shoot it up your ass. Stop it! Jesus!" Pulling my head out of his ass, or away from his buttocks at least, I'm dazed. Spit is all around my mouth, on my nose, and chin. I'm like, "Wha...?"

He doesn't realize I'm in never-never land as he says, "Omigod, I'm so hot to do this," and five seconds later, still bending over, I feel Bruce's finger pushing the KY Jelly up my ass. In my stupor, I automatically put my hands on my knees and push up my ass for Bruce, who murmurs, "That's a good recruit," and then he forces his significant boner in past my sphincter muscles, the outside and inside ones, as I'm howling, "Ahhh!"

Yeah, it hurt, but like Cowboy says, "It hurt so good!" It hurt so 'good' for a full minute, but after that first howl, I grunt and take the pain my top is causing me. And, yes, I'm now getting used to the pain the way Cowboy got used to it years ago.

With a firm hold on both sides of my hips, Bruce starts pulling me back into his full seven-in thrusts. He has an easy time of it because I'm totally docile, and he pulls me back and forth with no resistance from me, which I'm thinking Bruce is taking for granted.

His big moving boner feels so good my eyes are watering. It's wave after wave of pure pleasure, so I close my eyes, biting my lower lip moaning, "Oh, umm, ooh, Bruce, yeah, umm, umm," and I want more and more, but I can only hold off my climax for about three minutes. My orgasm blows cum at the speed of light from my cast iron boner, the cum spray again clipping my chin as it flies by before giving in to the pull of gravity, landing five feet away ignominiously dropping to the floor with a dull splat.

Bruce apparently can't hold off his climax either as he's now tight against my buttock, grunting and shooting a lot of cum into my bowels. We're both gasping in oxygen, taking fast, deep breaths. He's humping, humping against my buttocks, then Bruce steps back and slaps my ass; of course, he does. Then he's exclaiming, "Richard was correct, you've got an ass that was made for fucking," and he slaps it again, splattering his cum that's already rushing back out of my bowels. I'm not worried about that, though; I'm concentrating on those buzzing beautiful after-effects sizzles from my rectum and penis. Nice, really nice.

As I'm still enjoying that fuck, still bent over, Bruce is in the bathroom cleaning up already. I slowly straighten up with a contented sigh and then feel back there at my latest wide-open asshole. At this rate, my ass won't be made for fucking much longer. These guys will have it flabby within a week. Damn, though, I am so into bottoming now I have to wonder if I'll be any good at topping after all this.

I stagger into the bathroom and hug Bruce from behind as he stands at the sink. He goes, "Loving on your dom, huh?" I murmur, "Yeah, what a great fuck that was. You did me up really good." He goes, "And I can do it even better too. You got me so hot with the rimming I fucked you too fast." I go, "No, it was perfect."

He grabs some paper towels and, sounding stern now, says, "You're not supposed to be touching your dom unless you ask permission first. Get over there at the sink to clean your ass. I don't want to have to tell you everything ten times. Use your head, Zachery."

Letting go of him, I mutter, "Yes, Bruce," and feel the submissiveness again. It makes me smile to look at his reflection coming from the mirror above the sink. He's cute in that funny way and pretty fucking cool too. This is working out better than even my optimistic hopes for it after talking with myself on the boardwalk.

As I'm wiping my ass with wet paper towels, I try talking myself out of what I'm dying to ask but can't talk myself out of. So, I ask Bruce the same thing I asked Richard the first night; I go, "Um, dom, um, Bruce, would you do me again tonight."

In a normal conversational voice, he goes, "I'd like to, Zachery, but we've got all day tomorrow, and I'm exhausted. I was under a lot of stress earlier, and even though it's turned out to be a near-perfect first mentoring experience, the earlier stress tired me out like a motherfucker. So, I'm sorry, but no more tonight. And, don't be a nag." In my submissive frame of mind, I don't even think of nagging him. My dom said, no, so that's that. I mutter, "Yes, Bruce, I understand."

Drying my ass and the back of my legs, I add, "I'm looking forward to tomorrow." He goes, "I'm sure you are, but for now, get the clothes you were wearing when you got here hours ago and put those on. The ones from the lost and found go back in that bin. You can keep the jockstrap, though." I do that, getting dressed in cum soaked and wet clothes earlier but are now dry. Carrying the jockstrap, I go back into the office where I see Bruce typing into his cell phone, so I wait to see what he tells me to do now.

He looks up at me, saying, "Why are you carrying the jockstrap. I want you to put it on right now and wear it all day and all night. It'll be your reminder that you're my recruit, and you're to do what you're told. I say, "Yes, dom." Taking off my shorts with the dried cum stain in the back, I put on the stiff jock and get my cock and balls to fit back in the too-small cup. Fuck!

He's back to typing notes on his cell phone. Stopping again, he says, "I don't want to forget stuff for my report. Which reminds me, type my phone number into your phone, and what's your phone number? I'll text you my address. Be there at ten tomorrow morning wearing the jockstrap, and, oh, bring a bathing suit too. We'll spend time on the beach as well as continuing your mentoring training."

I tell him my number and then ask, "Um, so, should I leave now? Is that okay?" He says, "Yeah, you can take off, and, Zachery, you did good. Keep it up." I nod, mumbling, "Thanks, so I guess I'll leave then." He stops typing and says, "Yes, get the hell out of here. I need to finish this."

Walking out into the night, I see only two people still on the boardwalk at this late hour. A guy and girl leaning on the railing, lovers, I guess, their arms around one another, gazing at the endless ocean. That's a normal thing for them to be doing, while not much else tonight in my world has been normal, which is why I'm happy to see something normal like those two. I noticed them tonight, whereas I normally wouldn't have paid them the slightest bit of attention.

I'm still in a fog, I guess. Reaching for my cigarettes, then remembering Bruce has them. Huh, looking at my cell phone, I see it's almost two o'clock in the morning. That's good because Cowboy will be sleeping. Wow, the mentoring took over two hours, but it didn't seem that long with Bruce, so I guess I enjoyed him more than I thought.

Oh, yeah, Cowboy. Hmm, I need to do some thinking about that because I am definitely going to continue with Bruce. And, yeah, he's nineteen, same as Cowboy. That is so fucking cool! Imagine me having sex with two nineteen-year-old young men, one as a top and one as a bottom. That covers it pretty well, but, no, it doesn't. One of them blows me, and I blow the other, plus I'll throw in 'rimming' now, as I did for Bruce, my dom, tonight. Now, that covers it all!

No-no, I'm not even considering asking Cowboy to rim my ass. I don't need it, and I don't want him doing it, but I don't mind doing it for Bruce, not after tonight. Hell, when I did it, I found out it's no big deal. It wasn't sexually stimulating. I mean, not for me while doing it. That's unless me sliding into a submissive state is considered sexual. No, I don't think it qualifies as sexual. It was kinda sexy-hot, though.

Then there's the big negative factor, Richard. I've had all the validating I need that his ginormous boner creating more pleasure than pain. No, I don't like that smallish, extremely good-looking creep. At first, I was captivated by him, his good looks and big dick and whatnot, but he's a sadistic creature with no other positive aspects to him. On the other hand, Bruce tries to be harsh, but it isn't coming naturally to him as it does for Richard.

Yeah, I'm sure Bruce got all his mean-prick ideas from Richard's mentoring manual. On his own, Bruce can be goofy, but he's more normal, albeit oversexed, and nice-looking too. Kinda goofy-cute like Cowboy's buddy, Lee.

The walk back to the hotel isn't a long one, and in the suite, it's deadly silent, so that's good, Cowboy's asleep. I follow my previous night's routine of quietly showering and slipping into bed wearing the hideous jockstrap. Tonight, Cowboy is so deeply asleep he doesn't immediately slide over to get partially on top of me. Huh, I kinda miss that. Then, I go out like a light.

Waking the next morning, I reach over to feel Cowboy, but he's already up. Lifting up on my elbows, I listen closely and hear the shower running. Good, he's showering. I was afraid he might have already gone out. I lie back down, pissed off that we're not having our normal morning sex, not that I'm the slightest bit horny. It's what we do, though.

After ten minutes, I give up trying to go back to sleep and get out of bed. Hmm, my asshole is wicked sore. Funny, I didn't notice that while walking home. Looking around, I spot the mirror over the desk. It's low enough that I can check out my ass. Taking off the jockstrap and turning around, I gawk at my buttocks' reflection. That's not telling me anything, so I use both hands, spreading them apart and, huh? My asshole looks like a perfectly normal asshole. Jesus, after all that extreme stretching last night, it doesn't even look sore, although it is. I walk around the room, and I'm happy to find I can walk fine, walk normally, and my ass doesn't hurt enough to bother me much.

Tossing the jock on my pile of dirty clothes, I need to piss, wash up, and brush my teeth, but all of a sudden, I panic... what the fuck time is it? Shit, I'm supposed to meet Bruce at ten o'clock. Where did I throw my shorts last night? I see them under the chair next to the jock and get my cell phone from a pocket, seeing it's eight-twenty. Eight-twenty? I only had six hours of sleep? That blows, but at least I won't be late meeting Bruce. Oh, and he sent his apartment address last night. I'm in good shape.

Knocking on the bathroom door once, then opening it, I see Cowboy walking out of the shower stall. Oh, shit, there's his beautiful awesome smile that makes me grin. He goes, "Hi, night owl." I smile back, saying, "Good morning, Cowboy. How're things with you're mentoring of the virgin?" Vigorously drying himself, he goes, "Not great, but we make out and grope a lot, so it ain't too bad. How was your date last night?" As I'm taking a piss, I go, "Great, and get this; I just found out he's nineteen."

Putting toothpaste on his electric toothbrush, Cowboy mumbles, "He's lucky then 'cause you're good with boys that age, and I should know." Washing my hands at the sink next to him, I say, "Well, guess what? I'm bottoming for him." Cowboy's face lights up, "No shit? Well, you used to do that all the time. I remember when I'd meet you and Ronny at college four or five years ago, you and I would exchange bottoming experiences, so it's nothing new to you."

Gee, he's blase about me bottoming again, which I'm happy to hear, but I'll leave it at that. He rinses out his mouth, grinning and saying, "I hope you don't think that's going to get you out of fucking your ward this morning. We gotta do a quickie at least, ya know, just to keep our hitting-streak alive." I go, "As soon as I brush my teeth, you're on, bro.

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com.

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