MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY
Chapter 42
by Donny Mumford
After dropping Bruce off at the boardwalk cafe, I go back to the apartment, take some Tylenol to ward off a bit of a whiskey/wine hangover and get back in bed wearing only boxer shorts. Falling quickly asleep on Bruce's pillow, smelling his subtle scent, I sleep until almost eleven o'clock. Dammit, I did not mean to sleep that long. Not when we'll be going to bed at nine tonight. Well, my hangover is gone, so that's good, but what isn't good is it's raining.
Wondering how Bruce is doing, I get dressed in baggy shorts and a T-shirt, step into my sandals, get my keys, and go off to Target to buy a couple of paperback books. In the store, without taking much time, I chose a random detective novel and a nonfiction book about Alexander The Great. I'll see how great he was.
It's still raining, so, with nothing better to do, I go back to the apartment, make a sandwich, and eat it with a Coke while reading the detective story. On the cover, it says it's a Robert B Parker, Spenser novel, but written by someone named Ace Atkins. Ace? That's a little curious, so I Google the name Robert B Parker and find out he's dead, but he'd written thirty-two novels about someone named Spenser who's a private detective, a private eye in Boston. The other guy, Ace Atkins, now writes about this Spenser guy.
Huh, by the time I've finished with my sandwich and Coke, I've lost interest in the story. Looking outside, I see the rain has let up, so I go on the balcony and smoke a cigarette, thinking about having a beer while again wondering how Bruce is doing. It's only one-thirty, and Bruce doesn't get off work until three-thirty, but I will drive over there early.
During the twenty-minute drive, I try to determine if I'm horny and decide that if I need to think about it, I must not be horny. Plus, I'll be in bed with Bruce again in less than eight hours, so this is encouraging. Yes, it is, and with Bruce being firm about having sex only once a day and me not being especially horny now, I might be okay with this arrangement after a week or two... hopefully. Bruce isn't going to change his mind; I know that and I'm committed to making our boyfriend relationship work, so maybe that's all it takes to accept that this is how it's going to be... for now at least.
Perhaps I won't need a sex clinic after all. All I need is Bruce saying 'no!' to multiple daily sex acts, thereby thwarting my oversexed condition. Can it be that simple, though? No, it can't be because I don't want to go the rest of my life being so horny by nine o'clock each night I cum in less than two minutes. That's no way to live. What's so wrong with multiple sex acts each day anyway? Who says that's wrong?
Parking in the lot closest to the boardwalk ramp near the cafe, I pay the parking lot attendant, then go up onto the boardwalk and go over to the ocean-side railing to light a cigarette. People are drifting onto the breach now that the sun has burned off the gray clouds, but the rental booth for beach chairs is still closed. Turning around, leaning my back against the railing, I look down a few stores, and there the cafe. It makes me smile thinking that Bruce is in there waiting on tables, and, hopefully, he remembers to smile at the customers. That makes me smile and rub my crotch. Oh, it seems my thoughts about Bruce are getting me horny, and, without realizing it, I'm now looking further down the boardwalk at Richard's locker room business where Jon Scheyer works.
Yeah, Jon will be in there working the counter. Staying close to the railing, I walk up the boards until I'm even with the cafe, then try seeing Bruce through the big plate glass window. I see motion on the other side of the window, but with the sun glare off the window, it could be anyone walking around in there. Slowly walking further down the boardwalk, I stop across from the locker room and watch a few Atlantic City day-trip visitors going into the locker room to rent lockers so they can change into bathing suits. I picture Jon's chubby five-inch cock in my head, remembering very well that he knows how to get the most out of it. Oh, yeah, he fucks me really good, really well... whatever.
Damn, I was positive Bruce would jump at the chance to get back in the pussy boys, which is why I became committed to being Jon's trainee in preparation for that. And, wow, he had the best form of dominance I've experienced. It's because he's so small; that's what made his dominance seem as hot as the hubs of hell. He really got in my head too. Rubbing my crotch again, I realize I'm boned-up from thinking about those days not too long ago, those days of Jon dominating me in an incredibly sexy manner. His arrogance is sexy hot to me.
Yeah, I only realized after the fact that I was disappointed when Bruce emphatically rejected the offer to re-join the pussy boys. I wanted to have those three weeks with Jon running Bruce and me through the training. My boner is throbbing now as I remember Jon dominantly pissing in my mouth and cutting my hair. He knew how to make me feel like a little kid, with Jon as my big bad mentor. Jesus, I'm so fucking horny now!
Adjusting my boner and moving it to the side, I walk across the boards and try to see Jon at the counter through the locker room's big front window. People are blocking my view, and then they move off, and there he is! Holy shit, the way he moves is even arrogant. Guiltily, I look down toward the cafe as if Bruce can see me here. Well, what am I worried about? Bruce told me to wean myself. It's his idea!
I'm so nervous my hand is shaking as I open the door and then step back as a woman and man come out wearing bathing suits and carrying beach towels and a large beach bag. The man mumbles, "Excuse us," and they brush by me. Then, Jon and I are looking at each other. He's smirking, then motions with his hand for me to come in. I take a few steps toward him, feeling that familiar submissive sense I always get when I'm around him. He says, "Get over here. Don't worry, Richard's in New York." I shrug as my cock throbs. When I swallow, it makes an audible gulping sound. I say, "Hi, Jon," with my voice unusually high and odd-sounding.
He snickers, then snap out to me in an irritated manner, "Step over there so I can take care of these customers," and he points to a spot at the end of the counter. People came in behind me, so I quickly stepped to where Jon pointed, and he nodded his head officiously. As he deals with the customers, I'm trying to figure out why I came in here. Thank God for these people, though... it's giving me time to compose myself. Jon makes me nervous and horny in equal parts, and as I've said a hundred times, I don't understand my attraction to him, but it's a real thing.
It takes two minutes for Jon to take the fee and explain how things work, then the man, woman, and two kids go into the locker room section. Jon wiggles his finger for me to come back over standing fright in front of him, and when I do, he asks, "What are you doing here? You don't have anything to change into, so..." Calmer now, I shrug and say, "I just wanted to say 'hi' and see that you're alright." He goes, "Why wouldn't I be alright?" I shrug again, feeling the submissiveness returning. It's the way he says things, the confidence, the arrogance; it makes my dick move in my underpants. I go, "I don't know."
"Get your ass around behind the counter, Zach." I frown, "Wha...?" He's got a grin on his face as he snaps at me, "Now, get around here now, Zach!" I quickly go around the end of the long counter and walk over to him, asking, "Why do you...?" and he grips my junk in a tight hold. I'm like, Ow!" He snickers again, "I knew you'd be hard down here. I can read you like a book. It's okay, though; we both enjoy our place. I taught you your place, didn't I?" I go, "Ah, um..." He says, "Yeah, I did. Be quiet and listen. I have a client tonight, but I'll service you tomorrow during my lunch hour. Now get out of here and let me do my job." Letting go of my cock and balls, he says, "Scat on out of here." In a trace, I mumble, "Yes, Jon," and scat on out of there with a red face... humiliated by him again. He's five-foot-seven, a hundred and twenty pounds, and only nineteen years old, but he's as dominant a personality as I can think of! Gawd!
Outside, I gasp in the ocean-scented air, pushing at my boner that's now poking out the lap of my shorts. An older woman walking with a cane mutters, "That's disgusting." In a trance, I walk over to the railing and lean over it, looking at the vast Atlantic, trying not to confront my behavior these last five minutes. Finally, I say out loud, "I am not coming here tomorrow; I am not doing that!"
What in the name of fuck was that all about, anyway? Rubbing my face with both hands, I shudder and get mad at myself for my lack of willpower. Why am I so intimidated by that little arrogant fuck! Pushing off the railing, I walk back down the boards to the cafe and sit on a beach-side bench looking out at the beach, seething with anger at myself. How can he make me that pathetic? I've done some pretty pathetic things around pussy boys, but he takes the cake. What was I thinking? Omigod, I take a few deep breaths and finally calm down. Then, snorting out a laugh, I tell myself... 'self, do not come on the boardwalk tomorrow. Wait on the beach for Bruce to join you after work as he said he would'.
That's what I'll do tomorrow. Wow, that was, um, I don't know what... haha, what an asshole I was! Tying to analyze that little bizarre incidence, I'm thinking maybe I need to wean myself off of my propensity for submissiveness in addition to weaning off my oversexed condition. Bruce is in charge, but he hasn't been particularly dominant for a while now. He's an in-charge boyfriend instead of a dominant mentor. So, subconsciously, I must be craving a dominant mentor. Bruce was that for three weeks, and Jon was for the parts of three days I was with him.
Okay, so I learned something about my subconscious mind, something that I need to be aware of, and I will be. It's easy enough to steer clear of danger, meaning steering clear of Jon Scheyer and sticking close to my leader, Bruce Dunlop. Speaking of that, I look at my phone and see it is two-thirty. I have an hour to kill before meeting Bruce. As soon as he gets off work, I'm going to talk him into stopping at a bar because I definitely need a drink after that little bit of nonsense I got myself into with Jon. Yeah, I need a drink, so why wait an hour?
The sun is blaring hot now as I leave the boardwalk, then walk three blocks to a local joint, Benny's Bar and Grill. It's dim inside and very air-conditioned. There's a TV over the bar with the sound off of a horse racing show of some sort. Three college-age girls are drinking and talking loudly at a table, plus three men at the bar. They're not together, though; they're drinking alone with empty stools between them. I sit at the end of the bar, and the bartender, an older guy with a large potbelly, asks, "What'll it be, pal?" Without thinking, I go, "Um, a draft beer and a shot of Jim Beam." Ha! That's Bruce's favorite drink.
Putting a twenty on the bar, I watch him pouring an eight-ounce draft beer, then a shot of bourbon. Fashing the shot down, I swallow some beer, and, damn, I feel better already. Okay, I acted like a geek with Jon, but that submissive sense I had with him was the best one I've experienced since, um, since the last time I was with him. Hmm, what's so bad about that, though? It took me totally by surprise, but looking back on it... it was sexy.
Damn, stop thinking about that. Let's see, hmm, here's an idea. The Target store is ten minutes from here, so why don't I go there and buy bathing suits for Bruce and me? Then we can spend a couple of hours on the beach! Yeah, but where would we change? I know where we won't change, haha. Yeah, but that's not the only locker room on the boardwalk. It's either I go to Target and buy some bathing suits or have another shot and beer right here. Hmm?
Nah, one more would lead to one more, and I do not want to meet Bruce drunk. He thinks I drink too much as it is. Leaving two bucks for a tip, I walk to my car. Bruce needs a spare bathing suit, so anyway, so what the fuck? That's what I'm going to do. At Target, I bought two bathing suits, one with a 32-inch waist and the other with a 30-inch waist for Bruce. Then two large beach towels.
Then, back at the boardwalk, I'm standing at the beach-side railing across from the cafe at three-twenty, waiting for Bruce to come out. Sucking on four Tic Tac mints, I try blocking that submissive experience with Jon from my mind, but the more I think about it, the more I think it was quite cool and sexy. He was in a friendly, playful mood while I was overreacting. Oh man, I tend to fuck up when I'm on my own. I get in less trouble with Bruce as my leader... haha. Then, there he is. When Bruce walked out the front door, he looked around. Looking for me?
I yell, "Yo, Bruce!" He waves and gives me a little smile, then motions that I should go over to him. Well, of course, I go to him... haha. Huh, that was a little bit dominant of him, and I haven't seen much of that recently. I haven't been experiencing much submissiveness with him lately, either. That's probably why I got fucked up and acted like a fool responding to Jon's natural dominant behavior. Whatever, I'm giddily happy to see Bruce.
I go over, and he pats my shoulder, saying, "There you are. I knew you'd be here." I go, "So, how was your first day?" From habit, he puts his hand on the back of my neck, getting us walking as he says, "Kinda boring because it was slow, but it was an okay first day overall. And, even though Anne said we had half the normal customers today, I still made twenty-two bucks in tips, plus the forty bucks in hourly wage. It's Friday, so Anne paid me that as well. Um, I do need to work tomorrow and Sunday, though. Sorry." Always it's about the money with Bruce, but he sounds upbeat about everything. I go, "I thought you'd probably be working this weekend."
When I tell him about the bathing suits and beach towels I bought, he goes, "Awesome! Um, where are they." I'm like, "They're in the car. We can drive to that locker room on 50th street." Bruce makes a face, then says, "What? No, we'll use the locker room down the block here," pointing at Richard's locker room. When I look hesitant, he goes, "You're not afraid of running into him, and neither am I. C'mon, let's get the bathing suits."
What else can I do except say, "Yeah, you're right." I paid again to park in the lot, so it's a short walk to the car. As we walk, Bruce's hand on the back of my neck feels good; it feels just right. He tells me about some of the rude people he waited on at the cafe. I nod and mutter, "Jeez," but, mostly I'm thinking about how awkward it's going to be seeing Jon again. I mean because of the way I acted earlier with him.
Getting the Target bag from the backseat, we walk up the ramp again, and I watch the old guy opening the chair rental place on the beach. I'd rent chairs if Markie were there, but I am not renting them from that old bastard. We'll use the beach towels.
At the locker room, Bruce lets go of my neck and walks inside ahead of me. Initially, Jon appears startled. Then, he smiles and goes, "Bruce, no hard feelings?" and he holds out his fist for Bruce to bump; Bruce bumps fists, saying, "There's no reason for hard feelings. We need a locker for a few hours." Jon fakes, surprised to see me, going, "Oh, hey, hi there, Zach, whassup?" I nod, mumbling, "Not much, Jon," feeling my nuts shrinking as a submissive blanket seems to drift down over me, and I feel my face getting hot. Damn!
Jon stares into my eyes for a second, which feels like much longer, so I look down, breaking eye contact, rubbing my crotch. Chuckling, he goes, "Sure, here ya go, Bruce," and hands him a locker key, adding, "It's on the house." Bruce says, "Hey, thanks," and he looks at me, saying, "Scheyer's comping us on the locker." Then turning back to Jon, he goes, "Thanks, and, by the way, that's a perfect haircut you gave Zach." Jon goes, "Yeah, it's perfect for him, alright. Hey, invite me over some time, and I'll give him another one just like it." Bruce mumbles, "Yeah? I cut it for him last time, but I like the way you did it so, I'll take you up on that when he needs a haircut. See ya, Jon."
As I follow Bruce toward the locker room section, I glance at Jon, who mouths the words... 'Be here at twelve tomorrow.' Without thinking, I nod my head really fast, agreeing with him. Oh shit, I think I'm going to do it too. Bruce hits my arm and mutters, "The day pigs fly, that's when I'll invite that dink to do anything." I go, "Uh-huh."
It's not all that complicated. It's like this; I experienced a strong submissive sense during my earlier encounter with Jon, making me horny for him. I didn't think I was horny this morning, and then I was when I stupidly walked into the locker room and saw him. But, so what? I like feeling horny and submissive, especially when there's a plan for hot sub/dom sex that will eliminate the horniness while I'm experiencing sexy submissiveness that elevates the heat of my climax. So, why not do it with Jon at lunch tomorrow? The possibility gives me an excited but sexy scary feeling in my nuts.
It's now twenty of four, so Bruce won't be fucking me for five hours, and now I'm horny as a mouse. When Bruce opens the locker, I put my arms around him, murmuring, "We didn't hug like boyfriends when you got out of work." I hug him and kiss him on the lips. He doesn't kiss back, but he doesn't get nasty about it either, saying, "I need to work into the affectionate boyfriend stuff slowly, Zach. Don't be too pushy, okay?" I'm like, "Okay, but can we do the bedtime sex as soon as we get back to the apartment?" He chuckles, then mutters, "No! It wouldn't be bedtime sex then, would it?"
Muttering, "I guess not," we then change into our new swimsuits. Carrying the beach towels, my wallet, cigarettes, and lighter, I follow Bruce out of the locker room, and, even though I shouldn't, I glance at Jon as we're heading for the door. He gives me a smirking look pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. I gulp, imagining his cock pushing out the inside of my cheek.
Bruce and I sit on the beach towels smoking as he tells me more about his first day as a waiter. He screwed up more than a few times, mostly during breakfast, but tells about his screw-ups in a self-deprecating, humorous way. Seemingly simple things such as refilling coffee cups to overflowing or serving breakfast plates to the wrong table. Embarrassing stuff like that. He says, "It looks simple seeing waiters and waitresses doing it, but when it got busy for an hour or so, I really had to concentrate."
I try being attentive, try caring, but I'm horny and find myself staring at Bruce, wanting to jump his bones instead of listening to his restaurant/waiter tales. As we sit here on the beach, I can't keep my hands off him doing little things like finger-comb his hair off his forehead and rubbing his shoulder, telling him how much I missed him and how hot I think he is. As I've noticed before, Bruce doesn't do any of those boyfriend-type things. He doesn't do any of the things I do. Things I'd expect a true boyfriend would do, such as touch me now and then as he's telling his story, or tell me he missed me today, or anything like that.
After a while, we lie back on the beach towels, and Bruce murmurs, "This is a nice idea you had, Zach." I go up on my side to look at him as I say, "You make me horny, Bruce. You know how needy I am, so can't you take pity on your boyfriend and relieve my horniness when we get home?" He makes a face, then turns his head to look at me, saying, "We already discussed that. Look, I understand you're horny, Zach, but can't you take pity on me and realize I'm struggling to get over my lurid past? I sincerely like having sex with you, but I'm stretching it as much as I can even to do it every night. Please don't ruin that for me because it's something I look forward to. And, it's only been a few days that I've felt joy doing sex, and that's thanks to you. Can you give me some time?"
Well, he's got me there. I go, "Of course, I'm sorry for nagging you. I look forward to it too." No need to add sarcastically... I enjoy both minutes of it. Lying on my back, I look up at the sky, thinking how selfish I'm being. He's got a shit load of baggage he's dealing with psychologically, and I'm just oversexed-horny, which is some psychological baggage of my own, but small potatoes compared to his baggage. The thing is, I wasn't like this before getting involved with the pussy boys, so that's my excuse. It's their fault I'm oversexed; their fucking training techniques worked on me, so...
Now I'm thinking of the way Lee and Cowboy lie together on the beach. That's how I'd love to do it with Bruce, and maybe someday we will be like that. I hope so, but for now, Bruce is just barely into this new world existence instead of whoring, trying to be boyfriends with me. So, yeah, I need to give him time to adjust as he's told me ten times. He's also told me to wean myself from the need to fuck three or more times a day, so I'll try to do that. Why am I making it more difficult than it needs to be? My best intention of going cold turkey for Bruce is just putting extra stress on him and me. The pussy boys put me in this situation, so I'll use them to get me out of it.
Hmm, how do I go about that, though? Continuing to have sex three or more times each day just maintains the status quo, so I'll start by augmenting Bruce's bedtime sex with one afternoon fuck and see if that improves our bedtime sex. Or, should I start by maybe going two weeks of morning sex and one afternoon sex to go along with the bedtime sex? Or, never more than three times a day, and then cutting down to just the afternoon and bedtime sex? Yeah, I'll start with an afternoon fuck, although it doesn't need to be with Jon, and if a morning opportunity occurs, do that too. See how it goes for a couple of weeks.
Taking a deep breath, I nod my head at my conclusion. Because it's convenient and already set up, I'll hire Jon tomorrow and see if that takes care of my runaway horniness and thereby makes sex with Bruce better and longer-lasting before bed. Grinning to myself, I flip over to lie on my stomach because I'm getting a boner thinking about tomorrow's afternoon sex. It's guilt-free because it's Bruce-approved as long as I don't tell him about it, which I won't. Whew, I feel better now that I've made a decision.
We go for a swim, but a shorter one than normal, then stay on the beach until six o'clock. Jon is off counter-duty when we change back into shorts and T-shirts in the locker room, which avoids another awkward experience with him. On the way home, Bruce asks, "What are we going to do for dinner?" I go, "I'm not sure. Cowboy and Lee will be home when we get there, so maybe they're working on dinner."
And when we get home, you'd think the boys were away for a month from the greeting we get from them. Big smiles, hugs, and kisses from both Cowboy and Lee. Gee, that's really a nice feeling. Bruce goes, "Wow, you boys got another haircut!" Lee says, "My dad sits us down for haircuts every ten days or so." Cowboy is drinking a beer, he swallows and says, "I tried politely begging off when I first visited, but Mr. Patrick can be very insistent." I mumble, "Yeah, I was at his barbershop like two months ago and couldn't help but notice he doesn't concern himself a whole lot with what his customers want." Lee goes, "That's because most of his clients are from that military prep school across the street from his shop, and he gives them the same short haircut every time." Looking at beautiful Cowboy, I recall his long girlish hairdo before he met Lee... this is way better!
After showering together and getting dressed in shorts and T-shirts, Bruce and I have a shot of Jim Beam and a Bud. I flash down the shot and ask the boys, "So, what'll we do for dinner?" Cowboy goes, "Well, I saw in the refrigerator that you guys bought steaks yesterday, right?" I nod, "Oh, yeah, that's right. Bruce picked out some primo-looking Angus beef steaks." Cowboy shrugs, "So, I'll grill them, and Lee can do potatoes." Lee says, "We've got baking potatoes, so I'll make twice-baked potatoes." I'm like, "Whatever they are, I'm sure we'll like them." Lee goes, "I bake them and then scoop out the potato and mash it like mashed potatoes, then put it back in the skins and rebake them. Lots of butter, half and half, salt and pepper... you'll like 'em."
Bruce and I make a salad and have two more shots and beers, then Lee's right, we like the potato. The steaks are grilled just right, and it's a damn nice dinner with Bruce retelling his first day as a waiter tales for the boys. Bruce insists on cleaning up after dinner, so that's a chore he does that I forgot. Ya know, he wants to carry his weight in every way, it seems.
The boys go to the boardwalk while Bruce and I stay in and watch the Mets' game until nine o'clock. I'm super jumpy by now, horny as a toad. Bruce seems anxious, too, but I'm not sure if he's that way for my benefit or is actually anxious to have sex with me.
We're both naked in the bathroom, taking a piss, then washing up and brushing our teeth without much chit-chat going on. Done all that, Bruce grips the back of my neck, nodding at me, saying, "See how special this feels, Zach?" I go, "I'll say!"
He squeezes the back of my neck, getting us walking out of the bathroom, murmuring, "I know I've told you this before, but you probably find it hard to believe that sex, for me, was just a pleasureless job. A means to an end until recently when your constant kindness made me want to have sex with you. I thank you for that... it's a brand new experience for me in this brand new world you've made possible for me to live in."
I'm like, "You're an important part of my life now, Bruce, so don't give me too much credit." Letting go of my neck in the bedroom, he murmurs, "Thank you for that. I'm getting an inkling what it's like being normal, and I like it a lot, and I'm looking forward to getting more and more normal with you and for you." Unless he's an outstanding actor that sounded completely sincere, I nod and ask, "What should I do now?" He grins, "Well, whaddya think?" I snort out a chuckle, "Oh, yeah, I'll lube up my ass for starters." I do that, then ask, "Okay, if I suck a boner on you now?" He grins again, "I've been waiting all day for that."
I don't want to say there isn't any reason he needed to wait all day for it. That would just be another needy way of indicating I'd like to have sex more often, and we've been over that already. With my ass gooey with lube, I drop to my knees and do my normal licking and sucking on his cock and balls until all around his groin is shiny with my saliva and his penis is hard enough to drive nails with. He backs up, going, "Oh, umm, yeah, that's perfect."
Looking up at him as I sit back on my ankles and rub my boner that's tight against my belly. He takes a few deep breaths and says, "Let's do it standing again." I get up, and Bruce gets behind me with his left arm around my waist. I feel the big head of his boner hit and then plow inside me as familiar pain from my anus blows up in my head. I scrunch up my face dealing with it by convincing myself it felt good. The um, 'good' feeling continues as Bruce pushes his boner up inside me, then he goes, "Ahh, um," and humps against my buttocks, murmuring, "It's so different wanting to do this, Zach. You have no idea what a big deal that is for me."
It is hard for me to imagine this not feeling good even if you're doing it as a job, but then, he didn't say it didn't feel good when he was doing his job. He said he'd prefer doing without sex except for me. I've been underestimating that point. Underestimating how special it is that he wants to have sex with me even after his life of whoring. I've been oversexed for only ten weeks, whereas he's been disliking sex for six years. Well, I understand that fact now, sort of. If I can stop nagging him for more, then I'll be totally supportive of his position. Plus, he never said this is all he'll ever be capable of enjoying. With time passing, I believe he'll want more, and I'll need less, and we'll meet in the middle.
For now, Bruce does a few slow long thrusts as the pain fades, then the quick jabbing three-inch thrusts creating the "Slap, slap, slap," sounds along with me going, "Um, um, um," as my boner tightens more and pulls away to stick straight out hard as wood and throbbing with the piss slit gaping open and closed getting ready to spurt out the load of semen that percolating in my balls.
Oh fuck, now it's fast full seven-inch thrusting with pleasure sensations soaring to almost unbearable heights, my climax screaming to a crescendo. I gasp, then squeal, "Eiiii! Ahhh..." and blow my load straight out four feet shuddering and shaking in Bruce's arms as he's tightly holding me around my waist. He grunts, humps against my buttocks, and fills me up with his jism. It was an excellent orgasm, but, like last night, it happened in less than two minutes. A spectacular two minutes, sure, but that's too fast. I need it to last longer. So does Bruce as he goes, "Oh, fuck. Too fast again!"
I've still got deliciously sexy shivers from the after-effects of that climax, murmuring, "Felt fantastic though, Bruce." That's a better response than me bitching it was too fast. I'm determined to be more supportive. He goes, "Oh, I'm glad for that, Zach. Yeah, it did feel super hot." He's passing me Kleenex, adding, "It wasn't as fast as last night, right?" The poor guy. It might have been quicker tonight, but I say, "Yep, a little bit longer sex tonight." I'm holding the tissue against my asshole as Bruce puts his arm across my shoulders, saying, "See, it'll be a little longer each night; I feel awesome." I go, "Me too," and he hugs my shoulders.
We cleaned up in the bathroom without telling each other any more lies, although it did feel great; that wasn't a lie. I get a hand towel from the hamper and wipe my cum shot off the floor; then we get in bed to snuggle together. Bruce sighs and then hugs me, murmuring, "Ah, that was great. Good night." I say, "Yes, it was," and kiss the side of his neck.
This morning, Bruce got up at five-fifteen and never had a nap, so he fell asleep quickly. His breathing is steady, and he's motionless. On the other hand, I went back to bed and slept until eleven, so it was maybe an hour before I fell asleep. It's a pleasant hour, though, enjoying Bruce's subtle scent and the feel of his sexy body.
Then, the next morning at five-fifteen, the phone alarm goes off, and Bruce is up and at 'em immediately. He takes another unnecessary shower, shaves, and while he's brushing his teeth, I'm just now crawling out of bed. He's getting dressed, muttering, "Hurry up, Zach."
He has our coffee in take-out cups ready to go, and we take them to the car, drinking them during the twenty-minute ride to the boardwalk on this bright sunny day. Bruce is much more chatty this morning, saying, "Everything was new to me yesterday, but Carla, the waitress who's working with me, was super helpful. Anne was too, so today I'm feeling much better than I did at this time yesterday. Just knowing where everything is will make today easier, totally different than yesterday."
When we're idling next to the boardwalk ramp, he says, "Okay, here goes," and, taking me by surprise, he leans over, giving me a quick kiss on the side of my mouth, then mumbles, "Thanks for the ride," and he's out of the car carrying his bathing suit in a plastic bag. I go, "Oh! Um, I'll see you on the beach this afternoon, Bruce. Have a great day..." He waves and jogs up the ramp and out of sight, turning left at the boardwalk.
Sitting here, I'm pissed that I didn't remember the boyfriend kiss goodbye. Hell, it was me who made a big deal about it yesterday morning, and then I was in a fog this morning, acting surprised by the kiss. Christ, that probably confused Bruce, who is trying so hard to be, um, to be a normal person and boyfriend, I guess. Except I don't know what 'normal' is or if it even exists. We're both from extremely unusual backgrounds, me being a lifelong trust fund baby and Bruce living on his own from age sixteen as a male prostitute. Neither of our backgrounds would the vast majority of people consider as normal. We'll make our own normal.
Sighing at a warm, loving feeling for Bruce, I drive to the apartment and go back to bed, but this time I set the alarm on my phone for nine o'clock. Waking at the sound of the alarm, I turn it off and lie here feeling good. My first thought is... I'll have breakfast at the cafe. After my bathroom routine, I get dressed and join Cowboy and Lee in the kitchen. They're huggers, so we do a quick hug muttering, "Good morning," then Lee asks, "Where's Bruce?" I go, "Working," and Cowboy goes, "On the weekend?"
I tell them that Bruce won't work weekends when his boss hires another waiter or waitress, then ask, "Do you guys wanna join me for breakfast at the cafe?" Cowboy goes, "Not this morning. We're renting a motorboat in Ocean City, and I'm teaching Lee how to water ski. Do you wanna join us?" It's tempting, but I promised myself not to intrude on their lives. It'll be more fun for them to do it alone without me butting in. And, I'll bet my left nut I'm ten times better at water skiing than Cowboy, and he should be the expert in Lee's eyes, not me. I shrug, "Not this time, but I'd like it if Bruce and I could join you guys. Maybe next time."
Lee asks, "Can Bruce water ski?" I go, "I don't know, but it's doubtful." They're eating donuts and drinking coffee as I hesitate to leave, finally asking, "Um, you're not driving there on Lee's motorbike, are you?" Cowboy goes, "Yeah, of course, we are. It's only like nineteen miles. A half-hour ride at the most." I sound like an old fart, but I go, "Why don't you rent a car or buy one, Cowboy. Fucking motorbikes are fine around town, but on the highway.." He cuts me off, "We'll be fine, mommy. Don't worry about us." I mutter, "I do worry. Why don't you want to buy a car?" He shrugs, "I like hugging Lee riding behind him, that's why." Lee grins as Cowboy hugs him, lifting him off the floor. Fuck...
Huh, I wonder if Lee is Cowboy's first boyfriend, then I immediately realize he's probably had a half dozen boyfriends before Lee. Still, this seems like a special, albeit unlikely, connection for both of them. I go, "Well, have fun. I'm going to have breakfast and read an 'effing book on the beach." Smirking, Cowboy goes, "I'll have to try that sometime. Maybe when I'm old like you, Zach." Rubbing his head, I mumble, "Bite me," and get my car keys, "I hope I'll see you, boys, later." Lee goes, "We'll be on the beach this afternoon, Zach."
Driving back to the boardwalk, it hits me that I'm supposed to meet Jon at noon. Holy shit, how'd I not think of that until just now? Omigod, am I actually going to do that? I feel a quivering sensation in my balls as I realize, as of this moment, I think I am going to do that. Yesterday, it's what I planned to do, so, yeah, I thought it through yesterday and decided it makes the most sense. It'll be an experiment, if nothing else, to see if it results in better sex with Bruce before bed. You know, if I'm not ragingly horny, maybe I won't blow my load in ninety seconds.
Parking in the lot next to the boardwalk ramp, I pay the parking lot attendant and, carrying my book about Alexander The Great, start walking up the ramp with a crazy scaring feeling buzzing around my balls. Jon intimidates the hell out of me, but that gets me submissive, and, therefore, I experience hotter sex. Fuck, I'm nervous, though, because I never know what Jon will do. Then I go into my pocket and pull out my money to ensure I have enough to pay him. Oh shit, I've got over a thousand dollars on me. Of course, I have the money. What was I thinking? Fucking money is the least of my concerns, but now I feel guilty having Jon on my mind going into the cafe for breakfast. I should have Bruce on my mind.
Taking a deep breath, I decide to have a cigarette at the ocean-side railing and get myself calmed down. Looking out at the ocean, smoking a cigarette, I watch Markie at the rental booth doing his job. He's a conscientious little motherfucker making me smile. Hey, Markie's boyfriend, Jameson, works at one of these boardwalk shops, so I drift down the boardwalk looking for him but don't see him. Well, at least it got my mind settled down and off thinking too much about meeting Jon at noon. I'm going to do it but being nervous about it seems silly. There's no reason I should be nervous. Get 'effing real, Zach!
What I want to do is see my boyfriend waiting on tables, so, flicking away my cigarette butt, I quickly walk back down the boards to the cafe and go inside. The lady at the register, Anne, says, "There are a few empty tables in the back." I nod at her, grinning and watching Bruce serving breakfast to four adults; I walk to the back. He's not smiling, though; he looks serious. He also looks cute with the little pompadour that he's been combing in his hair ever since I did it for him that time. He also has sexy hairless legs. He's slim and wicked youthful-looking, and, to me, he's eatable. No one would believe that boy lived the life he lived up till now.
I'm so proud of him, and then a waitress puts a menu on my table, asking, "Can I get you coffee?" What the...? I wanted Bruce to wait on me, but it might bring undue attention to him if I say that. I smile, "Yes, coffee, please." She's not especially attractive, but Bruce said she was a big help to him yesterday, so I'll leave her a big tip. I order eggs over easy, ham, and white toast when she comes back with my coffee.
As with the chicken salad sandwich I had for lunch here, the breakfast is okay but nothing special. I'm almost through eating before I make eye contact with Bruce, who's very busy. He smiles and makes a cute face at me but continues doing his job. Ya know, that smile was unmistakably one that said he was really happy to see me. It was an intimate moment as if he and I had a secret that only we knew. He couldn't fake that! It made me feel warm and fuzzy all over.
Finished eating my unspectacular breakfast, I leave a ten-dollar bill on the table and walk up with the check to pay at the cash register. Bruce walks by, saying, "Hi, Zach! I'll meet you on the beach after work." I nod, "Yeah, um, you look good enough to eat." He nods and grins but goes on by with a pot of coffee. The register clerk, Anne, doesn't know me from Adam. She gives a fake smile, asking, "Was everything alright?" As she rings up my check, I say, "Yes, thanks, it was fine."
Oh man, I feel good. Bruce appeared in a friendly, positive frame of mind and was happy to see me. Still smiling, I go down to the rental booth and wait for Markie to return from doing the umbrella thing for a man and woman, then smile at him, "Hi, Markie. How ya doing today, hotshot?" He grumpily says, "How can you always be so 'effing cheerful? I just got stiffed on a tip by those two old farts." I'm like, "Well, I'm not going to stiff you. Let me have a chair and an umbrella."
As he gets a chair from the rack, he asks, "You're alone?" Holding up the paperback book, I go, "Yes, just me and my book." As I walk beside him as he carries the umbrella on his skinny shoulder, I ask, "How much do you get paid hourly to do this job?" Stopping near where we always stop, he mutters, "None of your business." I snort out a laugh, saying, "Why are you back to being grumpy all of a sudden?" He grins at me, mumbling, "Whaddaya talking about? I'm not grumpy." I go, "Oh," and hand him a ten-spot, then rub his head. He goes, "You've got a thing for me, doncha?" I say, "Yes, I do. How can you tell?" He mumbles, "Duh, it's pretty fucking obvious," and then stalks off, trying not to grin.
Goofy-looking kid, but I've adopted him, I guess. The pocketbook is titled 'Alexander The Great and His Time' by Agnes Saville. Huh, it was written in 1993. No, earlier because there's a preface for the second edition. I read it, and she explains that she's corrected facts from the first edition since the first edition. Well, maybe there are facts in this edition that she'll correct in a later edition. So, I'll be reading things that may or may not be accurate.
Yeah, but I don't read very much before I look up and gaze at the ocean, thinking about Jon's five chubby inches of hard cock inside me. He knows how to fuck with that sex organ too. I know, I'll pay for a make-out first and then suck and lick the hell out of his cock and balls before the final thrill of him dominantly fucking me. My cock is so hard right now I need to stand up and try getting it over, pointing sideways. Oh, Gawd, that feels good. I walk around a bit, leaning over a little until I feel my pecker go down.
Picking up the book from where I dropped in on the chair, I sit down again and take a deep breath. Yeah, I need the relief of paying for sex. Definitely needed! It's for a good cause above and beyond me simply needing it for myself. I mean, if I don't blow my load in less than two minutes, neither will Bruce. We can experience the sexy thrill of having a longer sex act together. Sure, that's a rationalization for me needing, really needing this afternoon sex, but it's also true it could improve Bruce's and my fuck tonight. And, it could be perhaps the first step necessary to slowly wean me off multiple daily sex acts, although I still don't see what's wrong with fucking more than once a day.
Not that Bruce and I will forever only be fucking once a day. Eventually, he'll want to do it more frequently, and the keywords there are 'want to.' He's very capable of fucking several times a day, but wanting to is another thing altogether. That's what we're working on.
I try to read the book, but so far, it's all about Alexander's father, Philip, who was constantly warring with neighboring cities and whatnot. Warring is all these people do, apparently. It's tough reading because the names of the places and people in the story, except for Alexander and Philip, are unpronounceable. Giving up on the book after fifty pages, I go in for a swim and easily do a half-mile or longer. Drying off sitting in the sun, I check my cell phone and see it ten-after eleven. Now I'm feeling all geeked up again for my dominant top, Jon Scheyer. Bruce doesn't make out, not yet he doesn't, and I wanna do that with Jon. He's an excellent make-out, not that I've much experience doing it myself. He does most of it, earning his money. And, I'm so stupidly attracted to him I get a sexual thrill out of him doing it. The way he moves his lips and tongue, it's sexual magic.
Yeah, my dick is hard again, but not as dangerously hard as it was earlier. Meeting Jon will almost be a therapeutic experience, almost a necessity for my mental health. Well, that may be overstating it a bit, but not by much. I'm impatient, looking at the time again. Then I get up and walk around in a big circle glancing at the people on the beach without seeing a single guy who interests me.
Then, I check my phone and see it's ten minutes of twelve. Walking by Markie's booth, I say, "Watch my shit for me, Markie. I'm gonna get some lunch." He waves, "Okay, Zach." Going up the ramp, oh fuck, I can hardly breathe...
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com.
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