Summer of Sex with Cowboy

MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY

Chapter 27

By Donny Mumford

When everyone is showered and dressed, we're on the balcony having a beer, and, right on time, Lee comes zooming up on his motorbike. Cowboy yells down, "Hey, you cute motherfucker, don't park that piece of shit bike there!" Lee looks up, grinning, giving Cowboy the finger. We chuckle, and Cowboy yells down, "You look really nice tonight, Lee."

Lee's carrying a shirt-size box wrapped in happy birthday paper as he disappears through the front door to wait for Cowboy to buzz him in.

Bruce looks at me, mumbling, "He bought me a friggin' present? Jesus, I am so not used to this, Zach. This birthday celebration is so far out of my comfort zone; it's pathetic." I'm like, "This is only strange to you, Bruce."

He goes, "I don't know what to do!" I'm like, "All you need to do is open the present and whatever is in the box, say you really like it. Another response everyone uses is... 'Oh, you didn't need to get me anything... it's so nice of you, though.' That's what everybody says. No one will think twice about it."

Nodding again, Bruce repeats what I just told him, then snorts out a chuckle, mumbling, "My fucking hands are shaking." Lee comes out on the balcony as Cowboy mutters, "Lee is making the rest of us look bad; he got dressed up." Lee makes a face at Cowboy and holds the birthday present out to Bruce, mumbling, "I didn't know what to get you, Bruce. I hope you like it. Happy Birthday." Bruce goes, "You didn't need to get me a present, Lee. That's so nice of you," then he hugs him, mumbling, "Thank you."

Okay, Bruce did that pretty well, except he's just holding the box, so I'm like, "Go ahead and open it, Bruce. Let's see what the little nerd got you." As Bruce rips off the wrapping paper, Cowboy gets his and my presents for Bruce from behind the sofa, saying, "Well, lookie here. Two more presents, Bruce." Bruce goes, "Omigod, I don't know what to say."

This is almost cruel in a way, but it's as if Bruce is in training for the real world. A world he's finally entering for the first time in his twenty-two years. He opens Lee's present and takes out a blue T-shirt with the words imprinted in gray... Friends are the family you choose.

His eyes blink a few times as he looks down. Finally, choking up, he says, "I couldn't have chosen a better family. Thank you, Lee," and he gets up and hugs Lee again with Lee looking startled, mumbling, "It's just a T-shirt. I wish I could've gotten you something better, but..." Cowboy interrupts, saying, "It's the fucking sentiment on the front, Lee. It's perfect, you sweet motherfucker you."

As he's letting go of Lee, Bruce rubs his eyes, forcing out a pretend chuckle, mumbling, "Are you guys trying to make me cry for the first time since I was two 'effing years old." Cowboy hands him the present he got for Bruce, saying, "If you almost cried over a T-shirt, you'll be bawling your eyes out when you see what I got you. It cost ten times what that 'effing T-shirt cost," and Lee goes, "Hey!" as Cowboy gets Lee in a headlock, mumbling, "I'm kidding for fuck sake."

Those two don't have any idea of Bruce's backstory, so they assume Bruce is simply one of those people who go overboard when receiving presents of any kind. Usually, it's mothers who do that, but...

Taking his time unwrapping the professionally wrapped box that Cowboy handed him, Bruce's fingers are indeed shaking, but neither Cowboy nor Lee is watching. Instead, Lee is snickering and pushing away the beer bottle that Cowboy is trying to get him to take a sip from. Cowboy's saying, "Goddammit, I'm going to get you drinking alcoholic beverages sooner or later. I don't particularly appreciate drinking alone, ya know. What will our honeymoon be like with me hammered and you totally sober trying to talk me into fulfilling my duties in bed?"

Bruce holds up both bathing suits, muttering, "Two bathing suits?" Cowboy turns around, saying, "I couldn't decide which one you'd like, so I got both of them." Bruce says, "Both of them are the best bathing suits I've ever had. Thank you, they're perfect," and he gets up and hugs Cowboy, who hugs back, muttering, "You're a sexy motherfucker, Bruce," then to me, he says, "Bruce is a nice squeeze, huh?" I roll my eyes, and Bruce says, "You're the sexy one, Cowboy!" Lee goes, "Hey, he's my sexy cowboy."

See, Cowboy and Lee think nothing of exchanging gifts with family or whomever. It's more or less routine to them. Totally different story for Bruce, who looks at me for help, and I nod, mumbling, "Nice job. Perfect." Bruce smiles and shrugs, mimicking wiping sweat off his brow. Then, I point at the small package that's left and mumble, "I got you the wallet you wanted. Happy birthday Bruce. Rip it open, and we can head out to dinner."

Cowboy is on the balcony, still teasing Lee by pretending to make him take a drag off the cigarette he just fired up. As I've said before, they act as if they're fourteen-year-olds at times. Everything is a joking situation to them as if they don't have a care in the world. They just want to hang out together, and the rest of the world is merely there when they need it.

Bruce opens the box and holds up the wallet, saying, "Thank you, Zach. It's embarrassing to admit that this is my first wallet." He gets up, and we hug. I mumble, "You handled all that like a pro, bro." He rubs my head, murmuring, "Seriously, Zach, thank you." I nod, "No problem. And now, I can hardly wait for tonight and be fucked by a twenty-two-year-old pretend boyfriend." He says, "Not pretend anymore."

My arm still around him, I call out, "Guys, let's go. We're late for our dinner reservation." They come in off the balcony as Cowboy tells me, "I'm riding with Lee on his motorbike." I stop myself from being the asshole adult telling them both it's stupid to take the motorbike when the four of us can fit easily in the BMW. Instead, I mumble, "Whatever." Bruce offers more thanks as we go downstairs and outdoors.

As we're walking to the car, Bruce has an arm around me, and I tell him, "I'm sparing you the birthday cake with singing waiters doing the happy birthday, dear Brucie, song." Getting in the car, he goes, "Thank Christ for that, although the thought previous to just now never entered my mind. I shudder to think of sitting there while everyone sang that childish song to me." I go, "Yeah, that's an awkward situation for everyone, except girls, no matter how many times you've endured it."

We drive away, followed by the boys on the motorbike. At least the bike is substantial, not some flimsy thing. Bruce is fiddling around with his wallet, discovers the two hundred dollar bills, and says, "Zach! You didn't need to." We both chuckle because that's one of my suggested responses for him to use. Then he asks, "Is this a normal gift, though?" I go, "In deference to your abhorrent view of anything that could even slightly be regarded as a charity contribution, it's a downsized gift considering some of the presents I'm familiar with. By the way, it's considered rude not to receive a well-intentioned birthday present graciously." He does a deep sigh, then goes, "Thank you, Zach. I'm speechless but very much appreciative."

Grinning, I go, "I hope you like it." He looks baffled, and I explain, "That's what asshole gift-givers say when they want more groveling thanks from the recipient of the gift they just gave the person." Bruce mumbles, "I've got a lot to learn, obviously." I go, "Not really. You did great."

The steak house is everything an upscale steak house should be. We have a birthday toast to Bruce with our first round of drinks, Lee toasting with a Coke. Ordering the drinks, Cowboy used his fake ID, and Bruce his real ID. Lee obviously didn't need to show ID. First, we have lobster bisque, then Ceasar salad for everyone, and then using our heads, we all order steaks since we are in a famous steak house.

After dinner, our waiter, a super sexy and attractive young guy in his mid-twenties, comes over with one candle on a slice of chocolate mousse cake. Bruce gives me a suspicious look until I ask Gregory, our waiter, "How'd you know?" He said, "I overheard you guys toasting this young man a happy twenty-second birthday. The cake is on the house." Bruce thanks him, and that was that, although I left a nice tip for Gregory.

Walking out, Bruce says, "Holy shit. This was wonderful, unbelievably, and I'm truly speechless... and exhausted too." I go, "Happy birthday," and he goes, "I can't wait for next year." He said that sarcastically. This was out of his comfort zone for sure, but I can tell he enjoyed the past few hours just the same.

So we've got four days until The Fourth of July. We don't do anything special. We eat at the apartment, Bruce applies for job openings, and we go to the beach. Lee only stays one night with Cowboy at the apartment, Bruce and I continue having excellent sex... then tomorrow is the Fourth of July.

Cowboy's sleeping at Lee's house tonight, so they'll both be there for Lee's family's Fourth celebration; then Cowboy and Lee will have another Fourth's cookout at our place later in the day. On the balcony, watching them go, I mutter, "Let's take a shower and then get some drinks at a bar for a change. Maybe eat out at some inexpensive joint too." Bruce goes, "Yeah, sure."

For old times' sake, I drive us to the hotel bar where we had the suite. The bar isn't large, and the eighteen or twenty men and women in here fill about half the available seating. There are some Fourth of July decorations, so that's cool. We don't see two vacant stools next to each other at the bar, so we sit at a small table in the corner. Bruce points at the corner, grinning and mumbling, "This is convenient. Ya know, for when I need to put you in the corner." I make a face, saying, "Oh, Jesus, that was psychologically a ballbuster for me. The first time you did that, it was so mind-blowingly unexpected I sort of shriveled up and became like a submissive dorky little kid."

A waitress comes over smiling like mad, "Gentleman, what can I get for you?" Bruce orders a Bud and a shot of the house bourbon. Not wanting to sound snooty by ordering a good bourbon, I mutter, "I'll have the same."

When the waitress hurries off to get our working man's shots and beers, Bruce says, "Yeah, psychological brain-fucking was Richard's area of expertise. His education was all about psychological shit, and he perverted that knowledge to control unsuspecting, sort of hopeless individuals. It sure worked perverting me, now that I'm thinking clearly about it."

This is the first time we've talked about those times since removing Bruce from the pussy boy club. I mutter, "It's scary shit, alright." Bruce shrugs, "Yeah, in hindsight it is, but in my sickness, I got a rush controlling you during your training. Little ol' me totally controlling a big strong, handsome stud like you... yeah, it was a rush, alright. I was following the manual while at the same time, I knew what I was doing to you was fucked up. " I go, "I wasn't hopeless as you said, though. I was bored and aimless, plus I was then, and I still am seriously attracted to you." He nods, "Yep, Richard told me you were looking for someone to latch onto. He manipulated the fuck out of you that first night and learned everything he needed to know to control you."

The drinks arrive, and the second the waitress leaves, Bruce picks up his shot and says, "Pick up your shot, Zach." I shrug, "Oh, yeah," and pick it up, tap Bruce's, and flash down the bourbon. Huh, it burned going down, but it wasn't the worst bourbon I've ever had, although far from the best.

Bruce sips on his beer as I gulp some of mine, then go, "Wow, wicked embarrassing what an asshole I was that night with Richard. I was totally fascinated by him, totally under his control, and liking it. That's the first time anyone, um." I glance around, then lower my voice, "First time anyone fucked me in almost five years. The weirdest part to me was, after ten minutes with him, there was no question in my mind that he was going to fuck me up the ass. To this day, I don't know how he got on top of me like that. Does he know how to hypnotize people, do you think?"

Bruce shrugs, "I don't know. He had me eating out of his hand in five minutes. After that, I was ready to do anything he said. I thought he was the coolest, smartest, best-looking, most captivating person I'd ever known, but I despise him now for what he did to me, to us."

Drinking some beer, I go, "Well, we beat him in the end, though." He mumbles, "Yeah, I guess. The thing is, it hurts deeply because I was doing a fantastic job training you. In the first week, the very first week, I had you to a point where you did whatever I said and did it immediately too, only to have it blow up in my face the way it did." I'm like, "You got screwed, Bruce."

Nodding, looking dejected, he goes, "And, ya know, you won't believe this, but even though you obviously don't need the money, if I had finished the last three weeks of your training, you would have forgotten about your trust fund and prostituted for me. And, yep, you would have done the month of street whoring in New York City exactly the way I instructed you to do it, or longer if I wanted you to go longer at it, and then been a pussy boy online doing what you're told, including jerking off on camera for the sickos, or whatever. Later, when you'd earned the privilege, I'd have taken you to Florida to be in porn videos, blowing guys initially until I could get you a part in a feature as a bottom boy. Oh, man, we would have made some good money too. "

Jesus, a chill goes through me because... could he be right about that? That thought makes me shudder and then gulp down the rest of my beer. Bruce motions at the waitress, and she comes over smiling brightly. Bruce says, "Another round, please." She's only too happy to do that. Bruce touches the back of my hand, looks me in the eyes, and says, "In fact, if I wanted to, I could still do that with you."

We've talked about this before, and I can't help wondering if he could do what he claims he could as my dick firms up... I'm so deeply into him maybe he could. When I try to say something, I gulp, then go, "Um, you don't want to, though, right?" Shaking his head, he goes, "No, of course, not! I told you that before. Knowing I could do it, though, is a sick thrill. I hate admitting that 'cause it's shitty of me for even thinking about it, but I've been living a perverted life so long old habits die hard."

And here I thought I'm the dangerous one between the two of us. Ha!

Bruce says, "You're staring at me again, Zach." I look away, mumbling, "No, I'm not." Fuck! It's like I'm as dopey around him. What's up with that? I guess being in love can be dangerous. Being in love makes me feel weak and dumb. And, love isn't a thing you can turn on and off either, so...

Staring at Bruce again, I'm thinking how I'd like to roll around in bed naked with him, wanting him to fuck me. And, christ, just looking at him gives me shivers of desire.

The second round of shots and beers arrive. Bruce says to the waitress, "Keep an eye on us; we'll be having a few more." She says, "Absolutely, guys," and goes about her waitressing as Bruce nods at my shot of bourbon; I pick it up, tap his shot glass, mumble, "To boyfriends," and flash down the not-too-bad bourbon." Bruce says, "Today has been an amazing and surprisingly great day for me, Zach. The first birthday I've ever had; I mean, the first one that anybody but me knew about. I can't thank you and the boys enough. I almost lost it when I opened Lee's present and saw what was written on the front of that cool T-shirt. Fuck, I'd have cried if I opened that present alone."

Nodding, I mumble, "No shame in crying. I cry sometimes." He drinks some beer and goes, "Are you sure you're okay with me being my bossy self with you even though, you know, we're boyfriends and not mentor and recruit? It's like, being a bossy hard-ass is how I've survived looking out for myself." I go, "I don't mind, but you weren't a bossy hard-ass when doing the prostituting and all that?" He shrugs, "Well, it was my choice not to be bossily in charge doing my man's whoring for him. Earning money for my man and me was me still being in control because it's what I'd decided to do."

Frankly, and I don't give a shit one way or the other, but Bruce is doing some serious rationalizing right there. So I'm like, "Yeah, I guess. Um, and you're my boyfriend now, right?" He shrugs, "Duh, yeah! I was stupid to deny it earlier. Switching from being your mentor/boss to being an almost equal boyfriend, um, that has taken some days to swallow. Now I see I should be grateful you even want me to be your boyfriend, and I am grateful. Seriously grateful, but there's still the bossy part I'm clinging to, which you said you're fine with."

Slowly nodding my head, I go, "And if I'd said I wasn't fine with it, what then?" He chugs some beer and grins, saying, "Then I'd try being your boyfriend without being bossy, but it wouldn't be as much fun for either of us, would it?" I grin back at him, mumbling, "No, I guess not. Actually, I like you just the way you are."

He looks me in the eyes, murmuring, "That makes me feel good. Ya know what? I'm going to let you ravish my body, licking me from my toes to the hair on my head and every part in between. It'll be another birthday present. After that, I'm going to fuck you as boyfriends fuck." I go, "And how do boyfriends fuck?" He snickers, "I don't know, I've never had a boyfriend before. I'll work on it, though."

Chuckling, I'm like, "And I accuse Cowboy and Lee of acting like fourteen-year-olds, so what's that make us, fifteen-year-old boyfriends? Neither of us knows what we're doing." He goes, "We're an odd couple alright, but I really like being with you, and you're in love with me, so I'm pretty sure we'll make it work." I go, "Yeah, we are odd. You're mature beyond your years, and I'm immature, spending my life mostly playing. Most recently playing war pretending to be a badass Navy Seal. I've led an irresponsible, spoiled life."

Exhaling a deep breath, Bruce goes, "You are immature and spoiled with that 'effing trust fund, but I'm immature in certain ways too, or I guess I'm not immature so much as I'm ignorant of things. I mean, when it comes to a normal existence the way most people know it, I'm clueless. My life has been far from normal." I mumble, "For Christ's sake, give yourself some time. You're doing great so far."

He nods, "You're right, it's my first real birthday, so I don't want to think of anything negative." Before I can congratulate him on taking a day off from worrying, the waitress is back, asking, "Ready, boys?" She's gone from addressing us as gentlemen to guys, and now boys. Bruce says, "Yep, thank you," and she goes to get us another round of shots and beers.

I say, "I'm glad you enjoyed the day, Bruce, because I did too. It's obvious as hell that I'm super psyched to have a boyfriend at my advanced age finally. Hell, you can be bossy, and I'll go along with it as far as I can because right now, I'm using all my willpower not to grab you and hold your body against mine." He goes, "Holy shit, you're an open book giving me all the leverage in our boyfriend relationship. Why don't you save a little leverage for yourself? This is almost embarrassingly easy for me... heh-heh."

I go, "You joke while I can't help myself. I can hardly wait to lick your entire body." He goes, "Jesus, you're serious, huh?" Nodding, I chuckle, "Yeah, it's both awesome and crazy at the same time. Before I met you, I didn't know it was possible to feel the way I do about you. I didn't know the way I feel existed in my range of emotions."

The drinks arrive, and I pick up my shot of bourbon right away. Bruce goes, "It's unfathomable that maybe I, too, may have that range of emotion you're experiencing. I hope I do, anyway."

He sees I'm holding the shot of bourbon and taps my shot glass, then down my throat goes the bourbon. Bruce says, "You're dead serious about all the things you're saying, aren't you?" Shrugging, I go, "Yeah, and I understand why you'd question that. I'm overdoing everything." He snorts out a laugh, then mutters, "Jesus, I'm not going to, but I could take serious advantage of you so easily. That's my street survival brain talking. I have a conscience, though, and I'll try not to take too much advantage of your friendship."

I just smile at that because I'm not as big a sucker as I've given Bruce reason to think I am. He says, "And I've recently come into some unexpected money, so I'm paying for these drinks tonight, Zach." I smile again and mutter, "Yes, Bruce." He smiles too, muttering, "I like when you say that." So, again I mutter, "Yes, Bruce," and he squeezes my hand, smiling again, then he says, "Ya know, maybe I'll fall in love with you after all." I go, "Wouldn't that be something?"

We drink some beer, then he asks, "You've told me in different ways any number of times that you're in love. I'm wicked curious about what that feels like, exactly." Shrugging and slowly shaking my head, I go, "I can't put it into words, Bruce. It's, um, the most fantastic feeling to just be with you having your undivided attention. But, um, well Christ, I did all that horrific training horseshit to be with you, didn't I? So, it's insanity too; being in love is a form of insanity, I think." He goes, "Jesus, maybe I won't fall in love then. I'm already insane enough." I go, "You're not insane. You've lived an insane life from necessity, but that doesn't make you insane; it makes you a survivor."

He goes, "Yeah, but I could have tried a straight job way before this. Instead, I took what seemed to be one of two easier routes... whoring or dealing drugs. They're the two choices you think you have when you're totally on your own out there scared to death on the mean streets of the intercity." Nodding, I mutter, "I can't envision that any more than you can envision being in love. I couldn't envision being in love either before I met you. But then, I couldn't envision being a Navy Seal, and then I was one."

Drinking more beer, he mutters, "Whatever that means." I'm staring at him again. He has perfectly shaped thin light-brown eyebrows, dainty-looking almost. Bruce makes a face, mumbling, "You're staring again." I shrug, "So what?" and Bruce snorts out a laugh, then says, "I've often wondered how the fuck you, with a strong submissive tendency, made it as a rough and tough Navy Seal. How'd you manage that?"

I go, "I've always been tough even when I was super submissive to certain boys way back in prep school. One characteristic doesn't preclude the other, although it is unusual, I suppose. Plus, having a basic submissive nature is beneficial when constantly being told what to do. Being told what to do is what life in the military as a grunt is all about, and it was also true of my life as a wingman doing what Ronny told me to do. And, um, that's another story, though. I've come around to seeing my life with Ronny differently of late."

He nods, "Yeah, Richard told me you'd be a recruit who would easily become attached to a dominant person; in this case, me. It was obvious you liked being told what to do. Well, I needed to do some initial hard handling getting you to realize I was dominant enough to bring out your natural submissiveness." I mutter, "That fucking Richard actually did me a favor 'cause the past five weeks or so has been the most relaxed I've felt in years. Well, minus the BDSM shit you put me through."

He goes, "Yes, that's another thing Richard told me. He predicted you'd be happy to get out from under the phony macho role you maintained to please your idol. Actually, considering your propensity to buckle under submissively to a dominant individual and embrace that submissive role, the fact you think you're in love with me isn't totally shocking." I mutter, "I know it probably seems weak of me, but there it is."

He goes, "No, I don't see it as weak so much as I see it as lucky for me. I'm aware you could wrap me in a ball, beat the shit out of me, or whatever physically you felt like doing any time you wanted, but luckily instead, you fell in love. Of course, that is a tad inconceivable to me, but as you said... there it is."

We have a fourth shot and beer before Bruce asks for the check, pays it, and says, "Come on, boyfriend, it's time for you to give me my last birthday present." We get up, and I say, "It's more like a present for me." Bruce grips behind my neck, saying, "Yeah, you could say that. Or you could say it's me thanking you for the most remarkable birthday I've ever had." He's a strong kid and squeezes my neck, saying, "Get going." I hunch my sliders, "Ow, Bruce. OW!" I whine but love it, and so does my dick that's firming up as we leave the bar.

Outside the bar, Bruce lets go of my neck, muttering, "Well, those were the good old days. Skinny me bullying some hot strong fuck like you, me doing whatever I wanted with and to you, but we'll have better days than those days, right Zach?" I go, "Yes, but in some ways, I miss the good old days too. As I said earlier, I didn't like the fiendish BDSM horseshit, but being submissive to you was very relaxing. I didn't need to worry about a fucking thing; I had no responsibilities except just to do what you told me. Hey, no shit, you should try being submissive some time, Bruce."

Getting in the car, he mumbles, "It's not in my DNA to be submissive." I bite my tongue because prostituting is a pretty fucking submissive act, and he's done a lot of that from an early age. I'm not bringing that up again, though, because Bruce doesn't need any more damage to his ego. He's already suffered a crushing blow when he went from, in his mind, the youngest top mentor in the world to being on his knees giving free blowjobs to middle-aged perverted men behind the hole in the wall.

Driving to the apartment, Bruce looks at me and says, "You know what? Let's play a little at the apartment." I shrug, then blow the horn at some asshole who pulled out from a convenience store right in front of us. The guy sticks his arm out the window of his pickup, giving me the finger, then roars away at high speed. Bruce mutters, "Asshole," and I ask, "What do you mean play?" He mumbles, "You'll see." I go, "Whatever, I'm game."

Parking the BMW in front of our apartment, Bruce goes, "Cowboy is out for the night, right?" We get out of the car, "Yeah, he's sleeping at Lee's tonight." Bruce grips the back of my neck again, saying, "You're my recruit for the night." Hunching my shoulders again, I go, "Ow! Not so tight, Bruce." He tightens his grip and pushes me to the front door, where I fumble my key out and let us into the building. Poor guy, he can't let the pussy boy stuff go yet. I guess talking about it at the bar brought it all back.

Going up the steps, Bruce says, "All you need to do is whatever I tell you to do." I go, "OW! Dammit, that hurts." He says, "Stop your whining," and pushes me to the apartment door where I unlock it, and inside we go. Bruce says, "Hit the light on your right," and that reminds me of going into the lockers on the boardwalk being told where the light switches were for the first time.

I flick on the overhead light, and Bruce marches me to a corner, saying, "Your nose needs to be touching the corner." I get in close, pushing my nose where the two walls meet, and he says, "Stay!" I'm half thinking it's a bad thing to go along with him and half thinking it's a way to wean him off that stuff little by little.

When he lets go of the back of my neck, I resist rubbing it and, instead, rub my crotch because my cock is very firm and quivering even as I'm trying to think what's the best way to handle this. I'm in the living room but can hear the bathroom door close in our bedroom. Even though it's role-playing, I'm getting the same delicious feeling of submissiveness to Bruce I got as his recruit. It makes me shiver and press my nose firmer into the corner and stand up straight. Obviously, I'm gonna go along with it to see what happens.

My mind goes sort of blank as I shiver again. It seems like quite a while, and then I lose track of time, just waiting for Bruce. The bathroom door opens, then the overhead light in the living room goes off, and the bedroom door closes. I'm standing in the corner in the dark as my cock gets hard as wood poking up at the waistband of my underwear, reminding me of when I had to wear that hideous jockstrap. Huh, this is somewhat hot. I don't even think about moving or think about anything now. I'm in a fuzzy fog feeling okay except for my throbbing boner's head pushing under the waistband now as it grows longer.

Well, I did tell him in the bar how effective standing me in the corner was, um, still is. Then a quick, strong grip of a hand at the back of my neck startles the shit out of me, and I yell, "Bruce!" He doesn't say anything. Instead, he marches me into the bedroom, where the light hurts my eyes after however long I was in the dark. Letting go of my neck, he says, "Turn around and get undressed." I smell his minty fresh breath, so he cleaned up and brushed his teeth; he's also gloriously naked.

As I take off and carefully fold my clothes, placing them on the desk chair, Bruce grins and says, "I recognize that hazing look in your eyes. Huh, I haven't seen that since our last awesome days as a mentor and recruit. And I see you were telling the truth about how being put in the corner gets you deeply into a submissive trance. That's so fucking cool. I never had that reaction. It pissed me off when the three mentors I ended up being a recruit for put me in a corner."

When I'm naked, he goes, "C'mon, snap out of it, Zach." I don't want to, but Bruce's relaxed tone as he's grinning at me and rubbing my head causes the delicious submissiveness to leak quickly out from my mind. Finally, I ask, "Why'd you stop?" He shrugs, "I only wanted to show you how susceptible you are after your initial three weeks of training to now falling right back into it. So, if I wanted to complete your last three weeks of training, I now know that I could. It's there if I want to pursue it, although I don't want to because I want to see if living a straight life is better. If it's not, though... heh-heh."

I go, "If it's not, what? You actually believe I'd do that prostitution thing for you?" He goes, "We'll never know, will we?" I'm like, "Yeah, after tonight, I think I know." I know he couldn't do it, but I left it vague because what's the point of debating it when it's never going to happen?

Anxious to start worshiping his body, I go, "Now, what about your last birthday present?" Bruce murmurs, "Oh, yeah, I'm looking forward to that." Of course, by now, it feels totally natural for us two to be naked together. As sick and perverted as Richard's and his stepfather's manual is, I admit that it effectively brainwashes recruits who are susceptible to that sort of thing, and I'm apparently one of the susceptible ones. Well, my over-the-top attraction to Bruce is a big factor too.

The bedroom's temperature is nicely maintained in the low seventies by the air conditioning system, so Bruce lies on the top sheet comfortably, the covers pulled down to the bottom of the bed. He's on his back with his hands behind his head... his long slender, hairless body is stunning to me. He has just enough meat on him that his ribs don't show, plus surprisingly well-developed biceps considering how slim he is--also well-formed pecs and a perfectly flat stomach with an innie belly button. Then there's his pretty seven-inch penis with the nicely-sized mushroom head, and under it is an almost round scrotum, and then his long, well-shaped legs and size-ten feet with nice-looking toes. To me, Bruce's body is how you'd draw it up if you were planning the perfect young male form.

Bruce mumbles, "You're staring at me again, Zach." Shaking my head, I go, "No, I wasn't. Um, should I start now?" He goes, "Turn out the overhead light first. There's enough light coming from the partially closed bathroom door." Oh God, trying to catch my breath, I gasp, then gulp in too much air, making me hiccup. Swell.

Turning the light out, I can still see him, but now I can't tell the difference between his tan face, arms, and legs from his whitish-pink torso. Slowly getting on the bed at Bruce's feet, on my knees with a hand on either side of his legs, I lean over and lick up the bottom of his right foot, then the left one as Bruce wiggles his toes and snickers quietly, then murmurs, "Holy shit, that felt funny."

What'd he say? Glancing up at him for a second, then I lick the toes of his right foot and suck on them. Immediately my cock, which had gone flaccid, gets wicked hard and presses against my belly, making me go, "Oh!" I touch my cock and then lick all over Bruce's feet, one than the other and suck on his toes again. This is another thing I never thought I'd do, but doing it with Bruce is somehow super sexy. Huh, surprising... no, not at all!

It's a very submissive thing to do, licking someone's feet. I lick up the soles of both feet again. Even though Bruce had a shower a few hours ago, it's him I'm tasting and not the bath gel he used. Then, with my nose against his leg and my tongue way out, I lick from his right foot up his smooth hairless leg and over his knee, somewhere along the way slipping into an incredible submissive frame of mind. It's so deep a submissiveness I shudder all over.

Bruce reaches down and rubs my head, murmuring, "This is a first for me, and, holy shit, it's wicked sexy." I sort of heard that, but I'm not sure if he said it or I did. Shuffling down to his feet again, I do the same, licking up his left leg, tasting him again. It's an indescribable taste augmented by his scent, the subtle individual scent of him. My boner throbs as I lick from his knee up to his groin, then lick back down to his knee; it's fascinating the way his scent and taste are swarming around in my brain, dominating other senses.

I do the same thigh licking on his other leg but don't lick back to his knee; instead, I lick the side of his scrotum, and Bruce begins squirming on the bed, taking a few deep breaths. Nothing else in the world matters to me now, only Bruce's body. I do fast licking where his scrotum meets his groin, then lick down the side of his scrotum, under it, and up the other side, my nose dragging on it with his scent and taste, causing me to shudder all over again. Hmm, Bruce's penis now feels hard against my cheek.

Licking all around where his pubic hairs would normally be, I then lick up his belly and suck on his belly button as precum drools from my hard cock. I get into a frenzy, licking up his chest and sucking on one nipple, then the other, and back to the first as Brude rubs my head lightly with both hands. moaning, "Oh, oh, um, ah..." My hands, I just realize, have been rubbing all over Bruce while I was licking his body. Then, afraid I'm going to cum, I lay the side of my face on his chest and take a break. Bruce rubs all over my head with both hands as he gasps and does fast breathing in and out, in and out.

My knees slowly slide down the mattress until I'm lying on Bruce, his hard cock under my stomach and mine against the side of his thigh. He keeps rubbing lightly all over my head as my heart thumps against his breastbone. Then, finally, our breathing calms down, and I think about lying like this forever until Bruce quietly murmurs, "Do more, Zach."

Lifting back up on my knees, I suck on his left nipple until it's as hard as my dick, then the same with the right one. Then, licking down his stomach again, I keep licking right down his hard cock that's up against his belly, licking down it to his balls, licking under his scrotum, lifting it, and feeling his balls against my tongue. I let his nut drop and pull his boner away from his belly with a finger so I can suck on the mushroom head before taking as much of his cock in my mouth as I can, then drag my lips over it as I pull my head back.

Precum drools down my belly as precum from Bruce drools on my tongue. Finally, he moans, "Let me turn over." I lift up, and Bruce turns over, pushing up his buttocks. Shaking with anticipation, I spread his butt cheeks the stop to notice they're almost lost all the bruising colors. Good! Then I push my face against his ass, licking like mad, beginning at his ass crack and moving over his anus and then sucking on it with my tongue in a frenzy of fast licks. My boner gets so hard it sticks straight out as Bruce groans and rolls up on his side, grunting, "Get on your hands and knees.

As I do that and Bruce rustles around getting behind me, his boner that's also sticking out straight now rubs across my buttocks, leaving a streak of his precum. We're both highly aroused, to say the least, but when he thrust his cock in past my sphincter, I scream. Neither of us gave a thought to lubricant. Too late now, and I grovel with the pain, wave after wave of it as he pushes his hard-as-steel cock, all seven inches of it, up inside my ass.

Bruce goes, "Oooh, fuck, that was tight..." and humps against my buttocks as I slip into that weird world of pretending the pain is a good thing, my brain getting confused. Shortly, the pain becomes bearable, and then slowly, ever so slowly, begins lessening until, miraculously, it's hardly there at all. I realize Bruce has been rubbing his hands up and down my sides and back going, "Shh, shh," so I guess I was still whining about the hurt, but now we're both calm. I can't describe how fantastic it feels being filled up so completely back there with Bruce's long cock. Ohh, it feels so fucking good.

Then, it hurts when he pulls it back but not all that bad, and it hurts when he slowly pushes it in but not that bad and the same for the next couple of times he does that, until... Omigod, that felt good! Bruce could tell it felt good because I let out a long, "Mmmm, oh, yes, ooh, Bruce..."

The slapping sounds begin, and it's music to my ears. Bruce is fucking me hard and fast, his precum and my anal goo helping him to slide his long sex organ back and forth in my ass with sensations bursting out, pleasure from my prostate soaring until I'm on a magic carpet ride in the stratosphere floating there with intense sexual pleasure off the 'effing charts. The foreplay and rough entry all adding to this thrilling sexual experience.

Bruce is gripping my hips as he's thrusting his hard cock inside me, grunting with the effort, my face in a pillow, my ass sticking up as high as I can get it as if it's begging for more. "Slap, slap, slap" sound like applause for this great fuck on my ass. This enormous pleasure I'm experiencing all compliments of Bruce and his awesomely hard cock!

It goes on longer than I have any right to expect it would, everything considered, but when my climax appears, it's a raging hurricane of power. I squeal like a banshee as cum explodes from my iron penis, splashing on the sheet under me with such force the spray hits both my thighs and then another blast of cum, and I'm so weak my knees slide back, and I lie on my gooey cum moaning but still trying to push my ass up for Bruce.

He blows his load thirty seconds later, and I felt it hit my bowels, a brief moment of what felt like extra warmth and extra slipperiness for Bruce's last few thrusts after the fact. Then, finally, he drops on top of my back, his heart hammering my spine and right-wing bone, or whatever it's called. His breath coming out in gasping moist warm breaths against the back of my neck.

Two or maybe three minutes of calming down, and then Bruce, still flat against my back and ass, his cock still inside me, mutters, "No, that wasn't a boyfriend fuck. I don't think it was, but, in any case, it wasn't what I had in mind."

I'm still feeling a really nice submissive sense as I murmur, "It was perfect, Bruce, you're perfect." With a hand on either side of me, Bruce does a push-up lifting off my back, then his cock pulls out of my ass when he flips over onto his back beside me, mumbling, "Thanks, but that was far from perfect. I didn't think to get lubricant involved... sorry, Zach. You deserve better than that, especially after the incredible foreplay."

Going up on my side, the sheet sticking to me for a second, I put my hand on Bruce's stomach, saying, "You tasted and smelled so good, Bruce; it was my pleasure licking your fantastic body." He snorts out a chuckle, mumbling, "You're the only person on earth who would say I have a fantastic body, but I'm glad you think it is." Supporting myself on an elbow, I lean my head down and kiss him on the lips, with Bruce kissing back. Then he puts a hand behind my head and kisses me with a lot of tongue action... a thirty-second luscious kiss. Then a quick follow-up kiss, and he says, "That's how I think boyfriends start foreplay... kissing." I go, "Oh, yeah? I'm pretty sure that'll work."

After a smile and a rub of my head, Bruce sits up and says, "Well, let me think. Hmm, which one of us needs to change the sheets when one of us makes a mess on them?" I say, "Me, but you're partially responsible because it's your creamy cum coming out my bottom." He goes, "Okay, I'll help."

As we change the sheets, I'm thinking how the kiss was romantic, and then very quickly, Bruce got down to practical matters about messy sheets. It's a start, though, another step in the right direction, and that licking routine was incredibly sexy hot! Christ, I loved that!

The bedding changed, and the bed made up; Bruce says, "No offense, but my body feels, um, not exactly sticky now but covered with someone's dried spit." I mutter, "No shit?" He goes, "Yeah, we'll have a beer and a smoke as a nightcap, then take a shower in honor of our clean sheets." I go, "Yes, Bruce," and, smiling, he says, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get the beers and my smokes, recruit." Smiling too, I go, "Yes, Bruce," and that's what I do.

On the balcony, we're both wearing only shorts without underwear as Bruce takes one of his insanely deep drags off his cigarette, and I go, "Why do you smoke like that?" He exhales a cloud of smoke and says, "It's a stupid habit I got into from being scared and nervous all the time when I was a kid on the street. I don't even notice I'm doing it anymore." Nodding, I go, "Oh, well, I'll remind you so you can stop doing it." He looks at me, "Why does it bother you?" I shrug, "Because smoking is unhealthy enough without making it worse by taking those absurdly deep inhales. Your lungs don't need that shit."

He nods, "Okay, you'll help me break the habit. That's fine with me." I pick up his arm and put it behind my neck, saying, "You're supposed to do this, so I'll remember who's in charge here." Chuckling, he goes, "Oh, yeah? Are you unsure of who's in charge?" Shaking my head, I go, "Nope, but do it anyway." He squeezes his arm, pulling my head over to kiss me. I thought, to kiss me, but instead, with my face inches from his, he says, "Don't presume to start telling me what I should do." At first, I think he's just kidding around, but realize he's serious, and my dick quiver as I murmur, "I'm sorry. I won't do that, Bruce."

Letting go of my neck, he looks pissed, mumbling, "No, I'm the one who should say I'm sorry. I shouldn't treat you that way, but please, um, just don't do that, okay?" Nodding, I go, "Okay," and he goes, "It's just that I thought I'd finally gotten past the point of ever needing to do what someone says. As a mentor with recruits, I'd be like an independent contractor with a pussy boy franchise. Sure they'd collect a percentage of my recruits earning the same as I would, but how I ran my franchise would be my business. Within guidelines, of course, but I wouldn't be answering to anyone."

He still can't drop the pussy boy shit, and I guess I'm not helping by reminding him of it. What to say, though? I try commiserating, saying, "I'm sorry it didn't turn out the way you wanted, Bruce. It's my fault, not yours." He shakes his head, "No, it's everyone's fault. I got too friendly with you and said all those nasty things about Richard, which you recorded in a drug stupor. Then, it's Richard's fault because he's a narcissistic asshole and wanted you back as his recruit, which started the ball rolling downhill from the get-go, and then it's the whole pussy boy organizations' fault for having something like that funhouse."

Rubbing my face, I mutter, "I see what you mean, but you need to look ahead at life's possibilities... think positively. You'll get a job, and we'll decide what business you and I can work together. It just takes time." He puts his arm around the back of my neck, pulling my head over, murmuring, "Okay, your pep-talk has worked," and this time he kisses me, then says, "Let's finish our beers. We need to take a shower."

Finishing our cigarettes and beers, we go to our bedroom, drop our shorts in the hamper and then go into the bathroom. I get out washcloths and towels while Bruce gets the water temperature in the shower stall the way he likes it; he smacks my ass and nods at the shower stall. Then, rubbing my butt cheek, I go in, and Bruce follows, saying, "I'm going to bathe you again," and he positions me under the showerhead. There is nothing I don't like about being bathed by Bruce.

He rubs shampoo in my hair, saying, "Your hair grows faster than mine. Jesus, it's not three weeks since your last haircut, and it's long enough to comb over, but don't comb it over. I'll tell my barber to cut your hair extra short, or even better, I'll cut it myself. I used to give haircuts to my homeless brothers using only scissors until I finally stole a pair of clippers from a drugstore."

Bruce's fingers rub my scalp harder than I ever do it, and it feels terrific. My eyes are closed, of course, as he's rubbing the shampoo all through my hair, saying, "It's funny, but when I'd do this during the later part of the three weeks training, I did it because I thought you were like a possession I owned and wanted to keep you clean and in good shape. You were my most valuable possession. That's what the guys who have boys on the street think too. Their prostitutes are theirs temporary possessions. They tell their prostitutes they're only temporary possessions because of the bogus promise that they'll be allowed to go once they'd earned X-amount of money for their man."

Yeah, there's bizarreness in this world, but I already knew that.

Pushing my head under the showerhead to rinse out the shampoo, Bruce says, "Ha, now that dream is gone, but I still think you're, in a way, still mine. I mean, you're in love with me, so..." He swipes his hands across my forehead to be sure no shampoo water gets in my eyes, mumbling, "You can open your eyes now." I do that and say, "That felt great. Thanks, Bruce."

He's putting bath gel on a washcloth, asking, "What'd you think about what I was saying?" I go, "Sure, you can give me haircuts," and he says, exasperated, "Not that. I know I can do that if I decide to. What'd you think about me feeling as if I owned you when you were my recruit?" I shrug, "I don't know. I guess you can think whatever you want, but that doesn't necessarily make it so."

He makes a face, mumbling, "Way to avoid the question," and he begins wiping the washcloth with long strokes up and down my back, then across my shoulders and my neck, then ears. He's rough with it using a finger behind the washcloth getting in my ears, and it makes me grin. It's like I'm five years old and just finished a mud fight with another five-year-old. Finally, he says, "Close your eyes and mouth," and scrubs my face.

This goes on for about six or seven minutes as I just stand here, Bruce intertwining fingers with mine, pulling my arm out to wash it and my underarm, then my other arm. He's meticulous. He gets on his knees, water splashing down on him to wash my legs and feet. Next, he washes my cock and balls with a lot of gel on his bare hand, getting my cock roaring hard, then stroking it until it's sticking straight out, so hard it doesn't move. Lastly, he uses the washcloth to clean my ass crack and anus. Finally, he stands me under the showerhead, turning me around, then rinsing me off a second time using the handheld showerhead. As I said, he's meticulous.

When I'm as clean as a person can be without going into procedures surgeons do before surgery, Bruce smacks my ass, saying, "You're done, boy. Dry yourself." I go, "No, let me bathe you." He's like, "What'd I just say?" Shrugging, I start to say 'yes, Bruce,' but I want to stop doing things that remind him of his mentoring days, so say instead, "Okay," and walk out of the stall.

Goddamn, though, I love that bathing shit. He can think he owns me all he wants if he bathes me every day. Ha!

I brush my teeth and then wait in the bathroom until Bruce is done his shower, then hand him a towel, saying, "I feel so fucking clean!" He chuckles, "You should. Get in bed; you're staring at me again." I start to say 'yes, Bruce' but catch myself again and go, "Yes, um, yeah, I'll be in bed. I'm tired." Bruce mutters, "Me too; what a cool day this had been, though. Thanks to you." Yeah, well...

It feels great getting under clean sheets after a shower. Hell, these are new sheets as well as being just washed clean sheets. Cowboy washed the second pair of sheets for each bed, claiming we should have washed the ones we made up the beds with. He's right too. There were creases from being folded in the plastic bags we bought them in. Bruce made a face, knowing we should have done that. As for me, I didn't have a clue, but these sheets do feel a lot better than the unwashed ones.

Bruce comes in the bedroom naked, and turns out the light, then crawls in bed, mumbling, "C'mon over." I slide over under his arm that he's holding out and snuggle in against him. Bruce sighs, then chuckles and says, "Has it occurred to you what a coincidence it is that I like your macho hard body against my skinny one, and you like the opposite?" I go, "No, and you're not skinny."

He makes another exasperated sound and goes, "I'm six foot one and weigh less than a hundred and fifty pounds. That's skinny." I mumble, "No, it's not. Not on your body." He goes, "You're only an inch taller. How much do you weigh, two hundred and twenty?" Frowning, then snickering, I go, "NO! Um, it was two-oh-six the last time I checked." He laughs, "Oh, big difference. You weigh at least fifty-six pounds more than me, and we're almost the same height. Are you fat?"

I mumble, "I've got a larger frame than you." He goes, "I'll say you do. Christ, your shoulders are wider and about twice as thick as mine, and you're like one big hard muscle. It's enough to give me a boner hugging you." I'm like, "Why are we discussing this?" He goes, "Good question. Go to sleep." I'm like, "What, no good night kiss for your boyfriend?" Using his arm around my neck, he pulls my head over and then gives me a sexy sloppy kiss. I go, "Nice start," and he mutters, "If I do more, you'll be wanting me to fuck you again." I mutter, "I want you to do that now, never mind after more kissing." He laughs, mumbling, "You flatter me too much, Zach. Go to sleep."

And that's what I do...

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

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