Summer of Sex with Cowboy

MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY

Chapter 23

By Donny Mumford

Bruce wants to cool off, so he and I walk into the ocean, shivering. The water is up to our waist when a large wave comes rolling in, and there go Cowboy and Lee riding it to shore. We dive into the wave; that's the quickest way to get used to the water temperature that's maybe fifteen degrees cooler than the air. The water feels fine now, and I go, "C'mon, Bruce, let's go out further where we can swim. We can't swim here with these people wading or standing in our way." Bruce says, "No, I'm not going out further." Floating on my back, I'm like, "Why not?" He goes, "I'm not a very good swimmer, that's why not. C'mere."

I wade over, giving him a 'look,' and he says, "What would have happened if you gave me that arrogant 'look' when you were in training?" I mutter, "Seriously?" He goes, "Yes, seriously." Shrugging, I go, "You'd probably make me stand in the corner, but we're done with that, right? We're just having a fun fucking day on the beach." He goes, "Yeah, and you're still using bad judgment wanting to swim out further than anyone else like some irresponsible daredevil fourteen-year-old who thinks it'd be fun showing off swimming with the 'effing sharks."

Smiling, trying to lighten up this awkward situation, I go, "You're my man, Bruce, and I'm just your wingman, but can't you lighten up a little once in a while? Let your wingman have a little fun," and I goofily mimic swimming with my arms, adding, "Outrun the sharks and all that shit..."

Bruce goes, "Come over here!" Jeez, my balls get tight as I feel that twinge of submissiveness that's so enticing. Maybe I need to put up with this if I want to feel submissive in sexual situations. I can't expect him to turn it on and off to suit me. We've never had a quote-unquote normal relationship. It's been all about that dumb-ass training. He's expressed his gratitude for me getting him out of that shit storm, and now that he's recovering from that insanity we're in new territory, relationship-wise.

So, groping my crotch, I wade over to stand in front of him, and he says, "I'm not going to lighten up. I'm not going to throw away the progress I've made with you during those three weeks of pussy boy training." Gee, people around us, can hear him, and they're turning to look. Bruce adds, "I gave everything I had into getting you to know your place. I hammered into your arrogant head that just because you're handsome and have an excellent hot body, you don't automatically deserve a special place in the world. You're not that special; you didn't have a fucking thing to do with your God-given looks or your hot body, so get over yourself."

What the fuck? I beg to differ! I had a lot to do with my hot body, thank you very much. I worked out for years, and, yes, I had a good body to start with, but it was my hard work that turned it into what most people think is just about perfection. It's not a weightlifter's ugly body; it's more modest but, um, sculpted. Ronny was always jealous that no matter how much weight he lifted or how often he worked out, his body never looked as good as mine. Not that he ever gave me credit for it. He claimed my body was a freak of nature.

While all that is true, what would be the point of making that logical argument to Bruce? Plus, most of all, I do not want to prolong this discussion! And, of course, he's right about my good looks; I had nothing to do with my face except once in a while shaving my scattered whiskers and maybe getting a little color on it from sunbathing.

Bruce gets his fingers on the back of my neck, pulling my head down, mercifully lowering his voice, saying, "This is our arrangement, remember? I'm your leader. Did you argue with your leader Tommy? May he rest in peace. Did you argue when he decided what was best?" I mutter, "It's Ronny; he was Ronny, not Tommy, and, no, I guess I didn't, but..." He goes, "But, what?" I go, "Um, okay, I went along with Ronny's choices, but it was different. Um, it felt different, anyway."

Then, to hell with the onlookers, I grin and put my arms around Bruce, hugging around his waist, his slim body feeling sexy in my arms, as I say, "The huge difference is, Ronny wasn't my boyfriend, and you are. You agreed we're boyfriends, so that's different, very different."

He shakes his head, chuckling a little, then muttering, "You got me there, Zach, except you know we're not really boyfriends. I said you could think of me like that if you insist." Still grinning at him, I move my arms up his back to squeeze his chest against mine, our faces two inches apart, "Well, my pretend boyfriend, your body excites me, and I'm pretending my body excites you too," and I kiss his lips.

He's not struggling or pushing me away, so I kiss his lips again, making him grin. I go, "See what's happening here? We're being perceived as two overly demonstrative gay boyfriends flaunting our gayness in the face of all these straight folks who are gawking at us because they overheard you chastising me." Bruce glances around, then says, "I couldn't give a shit less what the straight people around us think. I'm torn between being flattered you like me so much and knowing it's irresponsible of me to play along with this madness."

Other than how he acted the early days after being rescued, this is as normal-acting as I've ever seen Bruce be. I'm still grinning at him and holding him against me as I say, "Here's a plan. You keep pretending you're my boyfriend, and I'll keep pretending you're my leader." He goes, "I am your leader, though. That part isn't pretending."

This entire exchange has taken less than a minute, but, of course, the gawkers are whispering behind their hands... look at those two queers! Then Cowboy swims up and says, "You guys are making a spectacle of yourselves. And, that's so cool of you!" I let go of Bruce, and he says to Cowboy, "I'm an innocent bystander. Zach is reliving his early teen years pretending he has a crush on me." I go, "I'm not pretending about that," and Lee swims up now, asking, "What's going on?" Cowboy goes, "Nothing. These two hot dudes are fucking around with the straights, that's all.

Then, Cowboy gets his arms around Lee the way I had mine around Bruces and holds him tightly, his face close to Lee's, saying, "Kiss me, Lee." Lee kisses him, and Cowboy says, "That's what they were doing." Every time I see Cowboy and Lee in an obvious gay boyfriend situation, I marvel at how relaxed Lee is with it. Nothing Cowboy does surprise me, but Lee was in the closet only a month ago, and now he's out to the world with the only exception, as I said earlier, being his parents.

I say to Bruce, "So, seriously, do you wanna swim out further? We can have a mile swim getting some much-needed exercise." He has a bemused expression on his face, slowly shaking his head. He goes, "You're like a little nagging kid making me feel as if I'm a forty years old grouch." I swim around him, saying, "Are you saying you don't want to swim out further?" He laughs and goes, "Yes, that's what I'm saying. You've had your pretend-boyfriend fun; now let me have my pretend-leader fun. Right now, you're coming with me to sit in our chairs and dry off."

I go, "Okay, boss," and Bruce grips the back of my neck, I drop my feet to the ocean floor, and he walks me through the water to the beach gripping the back of my neck as if he's a high school teacher taking me to the principal's office because I said fuck no to something the teacher told me to do. Oh boy, this really gets my dick buzzing, and it firms up pretty good by the time we're back at our chairs. Bruce smirks at me, lets go of my neck, muttering, "There are no corners here on the beach for me to make you stand in, but pretend there are and be a good boy."

See, I tapped into the goofy Bruce, and he was magnanimous enough to go along with my goofiness. Sitting down, he goes, "I've gotta admit I liked the affectionate part of pretending we're boyfriends. In real life, you'd be a trophy boyfriend for a skinny kid like me." I go, "You're not skinny! And this is real life, um, except for the trophy part."

The arms of our beach chairs are touching, as Bruce insists they do, so we're sitting like boyfriends even though that hasn't occurred to him yet. Grinning at him, I put my arm across his shoulders, and he makes a 'face' rolling his eyes as I say, "If anything, you're the trophy boyfriend for a guy who just turned twenty-eight." Bruce goes, "I didn't think of that." I go, "We've both got trophy boyfriends. We're a couple of hot shits."

Taking an exasperated-sounding deep breath, he mumbles, "You're winning the pretend game so far; the score is a 100 to naught." I go, "Naught? That's because you're a sweetheart who's letting me win." He goes, "Well then, fair is fair, so you need to let me win the pretend I'm your leader game now."

He doesn't shrug my arm off his shoulders, so I mutter, "Sure thing, boss." Cowboy and Lee are shaking their heads as they walk up to us, Cowboy saying, "You're both an embarrassment to the gay community. Why not take your act to the bedroom, for Christ's sake?" Bruce says, "It's him. He won't leave me alone." Cowboy and Lee sit in their beach chairs, the arms of their chairs touching too. Cowboy puts his arm across Lee's shoulders, smirking and saying, "Well then, I guess... fuck the straights if they can't take a joke, huh?"

I leave my arm on Bruce's shoulders as we talk about leasing an apartment, deciding we'll do it tomorrow. Cowboy says, "Whatever you decide, Zach. Whatever place you and Bruce decide on, I'm good with it. I'm looking forward to cooking for you guys." I'm like, "Who named you the chef?" Then it's blah, blah, blah...

Later, leaving the beach, carrying our chairs, Bruce goes, "Ya know what, Zach? I think I've been confusing mentoring you with being your leader. That's what's screwing up my thinking." I go, "Uh-huh," and he says, "You're doing the pretend boyfriend thing just right, but I was overdoing the leader thing, and... blah, blah, blah, more self-analysis by my boyfriend. This is looking very promising for me.

In the suite, Cowboy and Lee go into their room as I play the wingman part, asking, "Can we have a beer before showering?" Bruce nods, "We can have more than one and a cigarette, more importantly, though, we need to work out an equitable way for me to pay my part. I feel like a charity case the last four or five days."

Getting a couple of Heineken from the little refrigerator, I say, "We'll figure something out, Bruce, but for now can't you allow yourself to be Cowboy's and my guest for a few days?" He goes, "That feels alien to me. Nobody has ever treated me to anything before in my life."

Popping the cap on one of the bottles, I pass it to Bruce, mumbling, "I can't even put into words how happy I am that you're here with me. Think of it as doing me a favor and relax knowing how much I'm enjoying your company." I flip the cap on my beer and then pick up my Marlboro pack and lighter as we go out on the balcony. Giving Bruce a cigarette, I say, "Great view out here of the parking lot, huh?"

He mutters, "Yeah, I guess." I light his cigarette, then mine as Bruce says wistfully, "I've never known anyone remotely like you. It's like I don't know how to act around you. I mean, now that I'm not training you to be the best pussy boy ever, what's my purpose in life?" He takes one of his insanely deep drags off the cigarette. After exhaling the smoke, he looks at me and says, "The thing is, I know I'm a good influence on you, and I know, even if you don't, that you want a replacement of sorts for your life-long leader, Ronny."

I put my hand on his bare shoulder, getting a shiver just touching his taut skin, and say, "There's no specific purpose to being friends, Bruce, but actually, you made me realize several things, and you are a good influence on me. And, you're right, I am immature."

I like that he doesn't mind my hand on his shoulder, so I move it across to his other shoulder and pull his side against mine as we stand at the railing, looking down at the parking lot. We both swallow from our beer bottles and then take too-deep drags off our cigarette as Bruce subtly relaxes against my side. It's me; the pretend boyfriend, who keeps winning this game.

Looking at the side of his uniquely cute face, I murmur, "I love you, Bruce. I meant to say; I'm in love with you." He looks straight ahead, mumbling, "That's hard for me to believe and, actually, I think you're mistaken. You'll need to excuse me for doubting you. No one's ever said they love me before, so I'm at a loss. It's one more thing I don't know how to respond to properly. The situations in which I don't know how to act are mounting up rapidly." I quietly say, "I think you're acting just right about everything." He looks at me, "Thanks, I wish I did."

Cowboy comes out on the balcony with a beer, asking, "Did you take my smokes, bro?" I go, "Oh, I thought they were mine." Taking my hand off Bruce, I get the pack of Marlboro from my pocket and give it to Cowboy, who flicks a finger hitting the back of Bruce's head, saying, "Zach can't keep his hands off you, can he Bruce? You're lucky, dude, and so is Lee because I'm the same way with that cute fucker." Neither Bruce nor I have anything to say to that. I'll bet it's been a long time since anyone flicked a finger against the back of Bruce's head and got away with it.

Lighting a cigarette, Cowboy asks, "So, where are we eating dinner tonight, Zach?" I've come to love Cowboy and his natural unforced loving-life personality. Loving him like a friend or a brother highlights the different love I have for Bruce. Whether he believes it or not, I'm in love with him, which is a very different thing than loving my buddy Cowboy.

After two beers and two cigarettes, talking about what's involved in leasing an apartment, and Bruce having all the experience with that, we leave the balcony to shower and get ready to go out for dinner. In the bedroom, Bruce can't help being bossy, saying, "I saw an ironing board and iron in the closet, so I'll take my shower first while you iron our clothes for dinner." I look at him as if he just flew in from the moon. He doesn't notice that, though. He's picking out clothes to wear. He lays cargo shorts and a button-down short-sleeve shirt on the bed, "This is what I'll wear. The shirt especially needs ironing."

Fully expecting I'll do the ironing for him, he mutters, "I won't be long," and goes into the bathroom. I've never ironed anything in my life. Getting undressed, I get my half-empty container of KY Jelly from my toiletry kit and take it with me into the bathroom. Opening the shower door, I put the lubricant on a shelf next to the bath gel and shampoo, then step under the water flow with Bruce. He goes, "Can I believe this? More pretend boyfriend shit, huh?"

He tries not to grin but grins anyway, adding, "You're already way ahead on points." Purposely not looking at his discolored tortured buttocks, I stand behind him and wrap my arms around his waist and kiss the side of his neck, murmuring, "Didn't you hear Cowboy? I can't keep my hands off you."

He leans back against me, mumbling, "I did notice that, yes," and I whisper in his ear, "Bruce, I need a good hard fucking. Train me to be a good follower of your pretend leadership," then lick his neck and kiss it again as his hand comes over to rub my head, then he murmurs, "You're a needy pretend boyfriend. You know that?" Turning him around, I get on my knees and pick up his long cock, water splashing off it and off of my head.

He takes a step forward, so the water isn't hitting me directly. I stroke his cock a few times, and he moans quietly, his hands resting on my head. It's extremely sexually arousing, licking his seven-inch penis from his balls to the mushroom head, licking it all around, and then licking his balls as water spatters off Bruce's head, dripping down on me. Our cocks are both rock hard in less than a minute, and then Bruce takes over. Holding my head, he begins humping his hips driving his hard cock deep into my throat while I concentrate on not gagging and not blowing my load. A deep submissiveness swarms over my brain as my cock throbs and gets even harder. So hard it moves away from my stomach to stick straight out defiantly.

I'm shaking with submissiveness, my climax quickly reaching the tipping point, my mouth slimy with Bruce's pre-cum... then he pulls his cock out completely and tells me, "Stand up, put your hands on the tile wall, bend over pushing your ass up the way I trained you to do it." Gasping and shaking with desire, I do what I'm told. Bruce spotted the Jelly and is pushing the lubricant up my ass, finger full after finger full.

I can hardly breathe. I'm so aroused groveling in a submissive trance so potent it threatens to ignite my climax before Bruce even mounts me. Then he does, and I scream out one time. He has a strong grip on my hips as he pushes his entire boner up inside my body and humps hard against my buttocks. I go, "Ahh, oooh, Bruce..." He smacks my ass, "Splat," and it stings more than usual because his hand is wet.

Bruce smacks my ass again, saying, "Get it up higher," and I go up on my toes, totally dominated. Omigod, it's fantastically sexy being dominated like this by Bruce. Quick fast short thrusts, his cock feeling fatter than I remember. He groans, sounding almost as aroused as I am. He starts doing the long seven-inch thrusts, and I feel vibrations in my nuts as cum accumulates quickly, seemingly swelling my balls and making them heavy in my scrotum, dragging it down, although all that is probably just in my head. Bruce's hard long boner feels so good thrusting back and forth in my rectum I can't think rationally.

He bends forward, gets his arms around my stomach, then pulls me up, so my back is against his chest; the back of my head lulls on his shoulder as his hips, humping hard, send his cock inside me. The thrust is so forceful it almost flops my limp body around. Bruce grunts, the water all around us hitting our bodies and splashing off, as he lifts me off my feet, his back curving and his cock fully impaling me. I feel him trying to hump against my buttocks as he climaxes a load of creamy cum into my bowels. It hits me that he blew his load without a condom. Oh, yeah, he just filled my bowels with his juicy semen, and that turns me on so much my climax explodes; I yell at what I initially think is searing pain, but instead, it's an extreme pleasure that boggles my mind, my mouth filling up with water, so my yell comes out sounding as if I'm gargling with mouthwash.

My cum shoots out blazing hot and fast; it's a big arc coming down on the wall I was leaning on. It mixes with the water pouring on us and runs down to circle with the water on the shower stall's floor, then heads for the drain at the other end. I'm shuddering, making those gargling sounds. Bruce lets go of me, and we both grab our cocks stroking out the last remnants of spunk, bumping into each other as we do it.

Omigod, that was incredible; my shoulders are still shuddering as Bruce says, "Jesus H Christ, what the hell kind of fuck was that?" Shivering at the after-effects circling my groin, my balls clanging together, I go, "What's the H stand for?" and he burst out laughing.

My asshole is wide open, and I reach back there to feel Bruce's gooey cum drooling out. What a turn-on it is that Bruce's cum is coming out of my body! I wrap my arms around him, face to face this time, and he hugs back, mumbling, "You're gonna give me a fucking heart attack." It's a short three-second hug, and then we go back to pulling on our dicks. I sound like Cowboy, saying, "Nobody can fuck as good as you, Bruce!" That's what Cowboy told me every time we fucked.

Bruce gives me a 'look' mumbling, "It helps to have a long cock, but no one has ever been as enthused about me fucking them as you are... nobody has come close to your enthusiastic endorsement." Then, unexpectantly, he squeezes shampoo on my head, adding, "Just stand there and close your eyes and mouth."

I do what I'm told, and he shampoos my short hair as he tells me, "Tomorrow we're going to do the Men creme on our bodies thing again, and get another haircut. It'll only be eight days since we did both of those things, but I want to start fresh as if those horrid five days in between never happened."

He moves my head under the showerhead rinsing out the shampoo. I wipe my face, saying, "But why do we need to do it at all, Bruce. We're not members of the pussy boy organization anymore." He mutters, "Because I said so." I go, "Oh, that's why. Well, yeah, I do like the hairless aspect, but why can't we have any hairstyle we want?"

Bruce is squirting bath gel on a washcloth, saying, "We're doing both things, so shut up about it. Now, close your eyes and mouth again," and he washes my face, ears, and neck then gets my face under the showerhead. When I'm rinsed, he begins bathing my body as I mumble, "This is giving me another boner. Um, would you lose the washcloth and use your hands instead?"

He shakes his head, muttering, "You're incorrigible. You act like your fourteen and showering with another boy for the first time in your life." I go, "No, it's you, Bruce. You bring out the fourteen-year-old in me." He goes, "Be quiet, please. And, so that you know, I've had this haircut for almost two years and I like it." I go, "I've had a worse haircut than this one for four years in the Seals and never learned to like it."

Instead of arguing further, I'm staring at his face and his slim hairless pinkish sexy body, his long cock swinging between his legs. I'm not only in love with him but I'm also infatuated, enthralled with him as well. It's kind of exhausting, actually. So much emotion is involved. I've never come close to feeling this way about anyone before Bruce. Oh Gawd, I just want to lie in bed hugging and kissing him, sucking his cock and licking his feet, and, when it heals, rimming his ass until he swoons with pleasure. Yeah, as I said, it's a bit exhausting...

When he's bathed every inch of me and rinsed every drop of bath gel off me, I'm shimmering clean, shining clean, and my cock is hard as a rock, my skin tingling all over. He smacks my ass and says, "Get out and dry yourself; I can't do everything for you." I enjoyed that so much I'm speechless but manage to say, "Can't I bath you now?" He says, "No, get out and do what you're told," and then he chuckles, adding, "That felt good... telling you to do what you're told."

Holy fuck! In a daze, I get out of the shower stall and grab a bath towel, dabbing at myself as I smile. A fabulous shower fuck... and then Bruce bathed me! If he's trying to dissuade me from thinking I love him, he's going about it all wrong.

It's a glass shower stall, but it's too fogged up to see him shampooing and washing, so I finish drying, and by then, my boner has gone down. I go into the bedroom and get out the ironing board. Fuck, then I discover ironing isn't complicated. I have Bruce's shorts and shirt ironed before he comes out of the bathroom. He says, "Thanks," and I iron my shirt. This is easy.

Hell, the boyfriend game has been super awesome, so Bruce deserves an awesome time as my bossy leader. Hell, I like that too, although I notice I'm much less conscientious about ironing my shorts and polo shirt than I was with Bruce's clothes. When I start to unplug the iron, Bruce goes, "No! Don't slack off. Iron your shorts the right way." Making a face, I mutter, "Oh, fuck," but it's fun fucking around with this nonsense.

I'll need to cool it when Cowboy and Lee are around, though. It's one thing when it's between Bruce and me, but others might not get that it's a game of sorts that we're playing. The big part of it is a sexy game, and the smaller part, well, I'm not sure what the fuck that is. In other words, I'm not sure between Bruce and me who's the cat and who's the mouse.

Bruce is dressed before me, and he goes into the living room, where I hear him talking with Lee. Of course, Lee would be ready to go before Cowboy. When I'm finished ironing and putting it away, I get dressed and join them.

Lee says, "Hey, Zach, Bruce has never played video games. Can you believe that?" I go, "Yeah, I can. I've rarely played them myself. The few times I got a chance to do it at prep school and college, I thought it was wicked cool and fun, though. Carson's brother, however, felt playing video games was a ginormous waste of time, so we never got into them. We were odd like that as video games were a big deal at college. Everyone except Ronny and me played them a couple of hours every 'effing day. Especially that Fortnite one." Lee goes, "Well, hell yeah, obviously! That's what Carson and I play all the time."

We have dinner at the Italian restaurant because Cowboy wanted to go there. I know he and Lee think it's their special place because I heard Lee say to Cowboy it's there that they fell in love. Uh-huh, whatever. Well, I do like to please those two, so when Cowboy said to me, "Let's go to the Italian restaurant. I mean, if it's okay with you and Bruce, Zach." I, without thinking, looked to Bruce for his approval. When he nodded his head, I said, "That's fine with us. Let's get going," then was pissed at myself for checking with Bruce, but habits die hard.

The dinner is a huge success, and when I ask for the check, the waitress says, "It's been taken care of," and she looked at Bruce. Then Lee goes, "Thank you, Bruce," and Cowboy goes, "Yeah, thanks, dude." Huh, when he went to the men's room, Bruce must have slipped a credit card to the waitress. That's how it's done, but I never thought Bruce would have a credit card!

Walking out of the restaurant, three of us light cigarettes, Lee waving his hand at the second-hand smoke as I ask Cowboy, "What are you guys planning on doing now?" He goes, "Are you kidding? We're anxious to get back to the Steel Pier." Then he says to Bruce, "Zach isn't big on amusement rides, but do you want to join Lee and me?" Bruce shakes his head, "No, thanks. Zach and I are meeting up with a buddy of mine to shoot some pool and get drunk drinking shots and beers." That's news to me, but I nod my head in agreement as if I knew about it.

Cowboy puts his arm around the back of Lee's neck, saying, "Well then, Lee and I will check you guys out later," and they walk off going to the boardwalk that's two short blocks away. I turn to Bruce and say, "Is that what we're doing for real, or is it that you don't want to be seen on the boardwalk?"

He takes a huge drag off his cigarette, exhales, and says, "It's what we're doing. Eli Barnes texted me. Fuck, his mind was totally blown when he heard about our exploits in New York. We're meeting him in Mays Landing at a bar he and I used to frequent after Richard got me the fake ID." I go, "Oh, Eli is the pussy boy who you had helping me with my training, right?" He goes, "He's the one."

We finish our cigarettes, then Bruce says, "I saw your dog collar under the bed and put it in the drawer of the bedside table. I want you to run up there and get it so you can wear it tonight." I go, "Really?" and he goes, "Yes, really, please. I want to impress Eli that even though we're out of the organization, you're, ya know, still my boy. Just for tonight, okay?" I look at him a minute, feeling bad that he still needs the pussy boy shit, then mutter, "Okay, Bruce, but this is the last time."

When I get back, wearing the collar, he checks the tightness, and I go, "C'mon, Bruce, it's tight enough." Walking to the car parked at the hotel, Bruce gives the back of my neck a hard squeeze, saying, "It feels weird walking with you and not doing the pussy boy walk, gripping the back of your neck." I go, "You did that when we were coming out of the ocean today." He goes, "Yeah, ha-ha, I only realized I did that after we sat down. As you said, habits are hard to break."

Feeling my balls tighten up, I mumble, "I like when you do it," and he grins as he gets a tight grip at the back of my neck, just above the collar, and forces me to walk a little bit in front of him, making me stumble when he pushes me to walk faster. I have a boner by the time we get to the car. Bruce says, "Yeah, that felt like old times. You wearing your collar and me doing the pussy boy walk with you."

We get in the car, and Bruce gives me directions, telling me it's like a twenty-five-minute drive. He says, "Shouldn't you put the top down?" I do that and drive away, then he says, "Keeping the facade going, please don't talk when we're with Eli. I want to impress him that I trained you well enough in three weeks that you still do know your place, okay Zach?" I nod, going along with him, happy he's regaining some of his old misguided self," and as a bonus, I feel a delicious little shiver of submissiveness. He goes, "I really appreciate this."

It's not high-speed driving, so we can carry on a conversation, although it's one-sided, with Bruce doing most of the talking. He's impressed with how Cowboy and Lee accepted him as a friend of mine. Especially without any third-degree questions. He says, "I'm rarely comfortable with people I don't know, but those guys are easy to like, and it's easy to see how much they like and trust you. That impresses me."

Then he tries clarifying how he sees our relationship. He says, "I think of you as a friend, Zach. It surprises me that I do because I've been trained to separate friends from recruits. You're not a recruit now, obviously, but in a way, you still are, ya know?" I go, "If you want to stretch the point to the max, I sort of know what you mean, but I'm in love with you too." He goes, "Stop saying that! It's just an overreaction to my effective training, not real love." I go, "We'll need to agree to disagree about that."

On the surface, Bruce wanting me to act as a humble recruit for Eli is a ridiculous request, except what else does Bruce have other than his supposed status as a mentor in the pussy boys. That, and the fact he took care of himself for most of his nineteen years. Sure, he's a little fucked up thinking-wise, but in a fairly good mental state considering everything. Obviously, he was hooking on the streets on his own for a few years before Richard recruited him and promised him riches. Bruce was cocky and proud of himself for being the youngest mentor, and now he's not even that.

Plus, it's no big thing as far as I'm concerned. I'll help Bruce impress Eli, who, by the way, helped get Bruce to lighten up on some aspects of my so-called training. Eli seemed to be a good guy, so I'm not surprised Bruce likes him and sort of admires him.

The bar Bruce directs me to is big but kind of a rundown-looking place from the outside. Without hesitating, when we're out of the car, Bruce grips the back of my neck firmly and walks me inside the bar. Inside it looks as rundown as it looked outside, but it's fairly large with four pool tables, a half dozen tables with four chairs each, and a twenty-foot bar with two bartenders. I notice immediately there are only men here, so I'm assuming it's primarily a gay establishment. Three pool tables are in use, and guys are sitting at two tables, plus eight guys at the bar. Music is playing, and two guys are slow dancing together.

Eli's eyebrows go up when Bruce marches me over to him at the end of the bar. Bruce tells me, "Have a seat," and then he and Eli hug and do a quick kiss. Eli goes, "Jesus, Bruce, escape from Alcatraz, huh?" Bruce shakes his head, saying, "My boy here couldn't let his man be disrespected like that." Eli goes, "You were doing blowjobs behind the hole in the wall, is what I heard." Bruce nods and mutters, "Yeah, but I'd rather not talk about that. What I want to know is, what's Richard's reaction."

They sit at the bar, Eli next to me, and then Bruce. The bartender comes down, putting a cardboard coaster in front of each of us, asking, "What'll it be, gents?" Eli says, "We'll all have a draft beer, Tony, and a bowl of those spicy nuts." Tony goes, "I heard you've got spicy nuts yourself, Eli," and they laugh harder than that warranted.

Eli nods in my direction, saying to Bruce, "You are one conscientious motherfucker continuing to mentor your boy even after getting bounced from the club." Bruce goes, "He needs more mentoring. And, it's the least I can do, after all, he did rescue me from that meat factory. I could never have made it through two months. I was beaten, Eli, totally beaten. And, paddled like a fucking junkyard dog too." Eli shakes his head, muttering, "That is so counterproductive and stupid of them."

The beers and spicy nuts arrive, and we all take a big swallow of beer, then Eli says, "We need three shots of Old Forrester too, Tony." Three shot glasses appear like magic, and Tony pours rotgut bourbon in each one. Bruce nods at me, and I pick up the shot glass and flash it down as they're doing the same. Ghastly! We all gulp some beer.

Eli gets a handful of spicy nuts and tosses a few in his mouth, saying, "So, obviously, you're planning on putting your boy out on the street as an independent." Bruce goes, "I haven't told him that yet, but yeah, that's what I'm going to do. Not here in Atlantic City, though. I'm not that stupid." Eli nods his head and eats some more nuts, then says, "Yeah, your best bet is to get him on the street out of state. If I were you, I'd take him to the west coast. He'd keep you afloat money-wise while you recruit some street kids. Give them a place to live and food to eat. Hell, you're smart, Bruce; you can get yourself set up pretty sweet as an independent. Fuck the pussy boys organization."

They discuss that for a while; we have another shot and beer, then Bruce grips my neck and walks me over to stand and watch him and Eli shoot pool, best out of three games. The loser of each game gives me money and sends me to the bar for shots and beers. I haven't spoken a single word since walking in here. After two hours, the realization sort of drifts in on me that I'm in a deep but pleasant submissive frame of mind, plus I'm getting drunk.

Eli is two or three years older than Bruce, and Bruce defers to him about everything. Eli decided what we'll drink; he decided when they'd play pool and when they stopped. He goes, "That's enough pool, Bruce. You've gotten better at it, I see," and he pats Bruce on the shoulder. Bruce has to take another piss, so Eli grips my neck, saying, "I'll take your boy back to his barstool." Then, pushing on my neck, he mumbles, "Get moving," and he walks me back to the barstool, "Sit." I sit, and he says, "Stay!"

I stay and he goes over to bump fists and talk with a guy dressed as a woman with a full beard. They're laughing their balls off at something. Bruce joins them, and Eli tells the bearded man/lady about Bruce's escape from the funhouse. Then the music stops as they change the tape I guess. Now I can hear them at the table and the bearded man/lady asks Eli, "How many boys are working for you, sweetheart?" Eli goes, "I've only got two in the street over there around the Tiger Bar. Mostly on the twenty-fourth street circle, then two pussy boys online. They're making me about four thousand a month but I gotta get some more recruits." Bruce says, "Is the pretty black boy still with you. He got my dick..." but the music comes back on and I can't hear what they're saying again.

I'm looking right at them, like a dog patiently waiting for his master. Mostly, I'm thinking about my, heh-heh, master fucking me in bed tonight. The bartender puts a beer in front of me, saying, "Your man sent this over for you." I look over, and Eli, not Bruce, nods at me, and I nod back. He's a stocky, strong guy about five foot eight with a strange sort of musical voice. He has that rare combination of dark hair and dark blue eyes but with an ashen pale, almost white complexion. That's striking, although he's not good-looking.

Two other not-good-looking guys join them at the table, pulling over a chair from another table. They take turns telling stories, all of which they laugh at hardily. Coming back from the lavatory, Eli stops to tell me, "If you need to, it's okay to take a piss but come straight back here." I get up, saying, "Yeah okay, Eli," and do I ever need to take a piss. Two guys are making out in the lavatory, and someone is getting a blowjob in one of the toilet stalls. Plus, there's a used condom hanging half in and half out of the wastebasket. Swell.

After pissing, I take my time washing my hands, trying to analyze if I'm sober enough to drive. If I don't drink anymore, I'll be alright. Back at my perch on the barstool, I let my glass of beer go flat. It's one-thirty when Bruce comes over whispering, "I'm really sorry this lasted so long. I couldn't get away from those guys. Eli is leaving now, so we'll leave too."

A minute later, Eli comes back from the lavatory, and Bruce grips the back of my neck; I slide off the barstool, and off we go with me leading the way. On the way out, Eli says to Bruce, "Don't you dare leave without saying goodbye," and Bruce says, "I'd never do that, Eli. I'll be around the rest of the summer. Richard doesn't scare me." HA!

He puts me in the car, and Eli goes, "How the fuck can a pussy boy recruit afford a car like this? Is it stolen?" Bruce mumbles, "It's not stolen, but I've yet to hear an explanation from my boy about that. I guess I don't give a damn how he's affording it." They hug and kiss as I start the engine.

Bruce gets in and immediately asks, "That wasn't too bad of a night for you, was it?" I say, "Yeah, it was, Bruce," and he goes, "I said I was sorry, um, are you okay to drive?" I go, "Yes, of course, I am." He goes, "Don't be angry, I'm sorry." I shrug, "Forget it. It's over now."

As we drive along, he's very chatty, telling me a couple of funny stories the lady/man with the beard told and had them all laughing. Fifteen minutes into the ride, I can feel myself coming out of my funk and get angry. I interrupt what Bruce was saying, to tell him, "Don't ask me to do that again. If you're going out with those guys, leave me out of it." He goes, "I knew you'd be pissed, so why did you tell me to forget it?" I mumble, "I don't know. Just don't do it again." He mutters, "Now I'm sorry I threw the paddle out." Looking at him, I go, "Neither of us is ever getting paddled again. That's sadistic BDSM shit, and you're a better person than that."

Thinking about that for a minute, he goes, "You're right. It was in the manual, though." I mutter, "The manual is a piece of shit written by perverts and sadists." He goes, "You're right about that too, and you realize I was lying to Eli about being an independent, um...," and I say, "Pimp." He shrugs, and we don't talk until we're at the hotel and I'm parking the car. As we're getting out, he says, "Even though I did tell you I was sorry I stayed so long... I apologize again."

Going inside the hotel, I'm like, "Let's forget about it." I see his arm start to reach up, going for a hold on my neck, but he drops it and glances at me to see if I noticed. I pretend I didn't. Inside the suite, the boys' bedroom door is closed, and the lights are out. They're not night owls, they're usually in before midnight.

Bruce and I go into the bathroom and stand next to each other at the toilet, pissing out the beer and cheap bourbon. Then, washing our hands at the sink, Bruce says, "I don't know why I always try impressing Eli. He wouldn't have cared if I didn't have you with me, but he did think I was bitchin' cool for staying on top of you like that. Thanks for going along with that, Zach. I won't do it again." I nod, "It's okay. I'm over it now." I did get some good submissive chills for a while, but it was way too long sitting at the bar like a pussy boy manikin.

After brushing our teeth, we get undressed, and I ask, "Do you want to sleep naked?" He goes, "Yes, always." Standing here naked, it occurs to me that I've been naked in front of Bruce so often I feel totally comfortable with it. I look at him, and he holds his arm out. Walking into his hug, I forgive him everything. The feel of his body as we hug takes my breath away. He hugs, rubbing his hands up and down my back, and then rubbing my head, murmuring, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me in my entire life," and he kisses the side of my face, adding, "As long as you need me around, I promise to be here for you." Oh fuck, he doesn't realize what he's committing himself to... how about a lifetime?

It's like I want to crawl inside his skin. His body feels so good and looks so good and smells so good. This is totally new to me. I've never been anywhere nearly this enamored with anyone in my life, not the way I am with Bruce. When he realizes I'd hug him all night if he'd let me, he says, "C'mon, we'll get under the covers, and you can blow me." I squeeze him, and he says, sterner now, "C'mon, Zach," but he doesn't finish with 'do as you're told' as he probably wanted to.

Letting go of him, I mumble, "Sure," and get in bed. He turns out the light, and as soon as he gets under the covers, I'm right against him. This is what I fantasized about fifty different times, never believing it would happen, and now here he is in bed with me every night. I want to kiss him but still have it in my head to let Bruce will decide what we do. He murmurs, "Suck my dick, Zach. Go ahead..." I slide down under the covers, where his unique scent is stronger and pleasant, and sexy. I lick all around his hairless pubic area, then down the inside of his left thigh, his scrotum rubbing my cheek, both nuts inside feeling hard.

In fifteen seconds, my cock is a wooden dowel hard up against my belly. Licking across his scrotum to his other leg, then down the side of his scrotum, it's all so familiar to me. I know every inch of his privates, and I'm beginning to detect a faint taste to him, to his skin. There's no way to put the taste into descriptive words other than to say it taste like Bruce. Sucking on one of his nuts, a squirt of pre-cum shoots out. Out of my boner, not Bruce's. It slides down my belly right next to my boner, and a shiver zips around my body.

Bruce is squirming on the bed, both his hands rubbing my short hair and the back of my neck, then my shoulders, and it feels good. It's pitch black under the covers, but it doesn't matter because my eyes are closed to concentrate on the taste and feel of his body on my tongue with his subtle scent in my head. It's really a remarkable, deeply erotic experience. His penis is very firm by the time I begin sucking on it. Long sucks up and down three-quarters of its length, my lips dragging on it as my tongue laps around the head.

A big spurt of pre-cum plops onto my tongue, and Bruice pulls on my head, so I come out from under the covers. He takes a deep breath and says, "Get the jelly and lubricated your asshole. I want to do you bareback again." "Yes, Bruce," and I do that, then with lube on my fingers, I stroke his hard as granite boner to get it lubed as much as my asshole. The mushroom head feels swollen and extra-large tonight. He gasps, muttering, "That's enough. Lie on your side, facing away from me. This is the slow boyfriend fuck I promised you before all the troubles happened."

Lying on my side, my knees pulled up, in my head, I'm pushing out my ass, but in reality, it's just there. Bruce's long hard cock slides across my buttocks as he gets in position behind me, then the mushroom head spreads first my butt cheeks and then my anus. He forces open my anus steadily, and the pain parade begins, but I embrace it the way Cowboy does, and then the head pops inside me, and my anus closes tightly around the thinner neck below the head, closes like a vice on it. I moan, "Umm, ooh," and Bruce begins sliding his boner up my rectum inch by inch, and my body does an involuntary shudder. I had no control over it.

Bruce's arm is over my side; his finger is fiddling with my right nipple getting it as hard as my dick. When all seven inches are inside me, Bruce gets his arm around my waist, the head of my boner bumping his wrist as he pulls me against him, his boner sliding in another half inch. I moan again, "Ooh, umm, Bruce..." He goes, "Shhh..." and licks my neck in back, then does it again, a long lick up past my hairline, and my entire body shudders with chills and goosebumps making me shake uncontrollably. Bruce smacks my ass hard, muttering, "Stop shaking! You're not a dog in heat..."

Then he pulls his cock back and drives it right back in until his crotch bumps my buttocks but not hard enough to make the slap sound I like hearing and feeling. Two more steady withdrawals and push backs, and then his hips get involved, and it's a faster, harder thrusting until, yes, there's the steady "Slap, slap, slap" sound. I moan, "Ahh," at each thrust, "Ah, ah, ah, ooh, Bruce, ah..." This is our most intimate fuck by far, and it's his skin, the skin of his hard long cock, not latex, rubbing the walls of my rectum.

As my climax is building quickly, I begin shaking with anticipation, and then BANG! I blow my load. It makes a dull thud sound hitting the sheet. Bruce flips me onto my stomach, his cock never pulling totally out as he gets between my legs and drives his engorged boner in hard five or six times, then leave it there as he fills me up with his seed. I feel a sudden warmth and wetness as he lays on me, breathing deeply for a minute. Then, lifting like he's doing a pushup, he begins thrusting his cock in my sloppy ass; the cum he shot inside me is spurting out around his cock as he thrusts hard and fast, wetting my buttocks with slimy cum. I wish I could lick my own butt cheeks and swallow his cum.

Rolling off me, Bruce groans and breathes deeply again. I pull myself over to partially lay on him, murmuring, "That was the best sex I've ever had." I rest the side of my head on his chest and feel his heart beating hard. I can hear it thumping away, pumping his blood to where it needs to be. A while ago, it needed to go to his penis.

Bruce's fingers lazily rub my hair; he takes one last deep breath and says, "Get us a hand towel or something we can use to wipe this cum up with." It's still drolling out my ass, and I got some of my cum on me, and I think I spread some of that on Bruce.

Reluctantly, I get off Bruce, get out of bed, and do what I'm told. When I hurry back, Bruce says, "Don't turn on the light. Let me have the towel." I give it to him, and he wipes his side then hands it to me, saying, "Wipe your ass and the end of the sheet where you shot your load." He can't help but be bossy, but he says everything in a nice voice, not harsh at all.

When I've done what he told me to do, I get back in bed, and he holds his arm out so I can get lie on him. He wraps his arm around me and says, "That was excellent sex. We'll have to do it that way more often." Those are the last words spoken tonight... we go to sleep quickly. And, who says dreams don't come true?

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

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