MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY
Chapter 45
By Donny Mumford
On the beach Wednesday, I'm smiling to myself, truly contented with the way things are trending in my life. I've just had my fourth double escort session with Derick, four mornings in a row now, and he certainly hasn't disappointed. Moving my sore ass forward on the beach chair, relieving discomfort on my buttocks somewhat, I grope my junk remembering how, even after a fantastic second fuck this morning, I still sprung a boner getting my last paddling from Derick. It hurt so good!
What it is, is that I'm in a pleasant stress-free submissive frame of mind... relaxed and sexually satisfied. I've felt this way since my first double escort date with Derick Sunday morning. And, as I hoped would happen, Bruce and I are having very good bedtime sex of six to eight-minute fucks. Yeah, and last night, Bruce even tolerated my short make-out with him before snuggling and eventually falling asleep. We've both been in the best mood lately.
And, haha, it didn't surprise me at all when Derick told me just before I left this morning that I'm to meet him at a new address tomorrow. He's rented a nice room in a hotel, not a cheesy motel. The hotel is on the boardwalk, so it's much more expensive, but I've paid him three thousand dollars since Sunday, so he certainly can afford the better accommodations.
It's still a day-to-day thing with him, though, meaning I need to ask for another date each morning; see if he's available. He's promised me a date tomorrow, so I'm good through Thursday at least. Yeah, I'm dependent on him for morning sex now. I get shaky thinking he might recruit someone to mentor and, therefore, won't be available to me.
Eventually, Derick will recruit someone, or Richard will assign someone to him. That will mean he most likely would drop me as his client so I've considered becoming his recruit. He's asked me to do that which entails training six hours a day, and that's doable because Bruce works eight hours a day. What wouldn't be doable is me wearing a dildo and/or a dog collar home after training sessions the way I had to as Bruce's trainee, but the most troubling thing about faking being a trainee again is I'd be deceiving Derick, as well as Bruce. I mean, whoring for Derick is out of the question, and that's the only reason he'd want me as his recruit. The bottom line... being Derick's recruit is not a feasible option.
So, I'm left hoping he doesn't find a recruit. As I said, though, he'll get one sooner or later because he has charisma, he's adorable with a hot body, and he's a natural dominant leader-type. If I weren't in love with Bruce, I'd be thrilled to be Derick's boyfriend or, much more likely, his recruit. I'd even whore for him in the manner I anticipated whoring for Bruce, meaning I'd only pretend to do it. Ya know, that was my plan before the shit hit the fan, sending Bruce to the funhouse. On the street, I'd pretend I blew five guys and got fucked twice, handing over the supposed money I earned to my main man, Bruce, or Derick, the money coming out of my own pocket.
Granted, that's a feeble plan and couldn't work for very long anyway. Plus, it's deceitful to the person I want to be with. It's a moot point because I am in love with Bruce, so I'll waste no more time fucking around with this dumb idea.
Sighing, I opened my book about Alexander The Great and read a page, and then realize none of it registered. Looking up, I'm thinking about how much I miss Cowboy and Lee. I better get used to that because when they get back from the trip to Europe with Cowboy's parents, there will only be three weeks left of this summer of sex with Cowboy. He and Lee will be off to college. I've become very attached to them both, but especially my young buddy, Cowboy... AKA Carson Myers. I feel guilty for missing Cowboy more than I miss his brother, although I'm broken-hearted. Ronny is dead. That sounds like a contradiction, I know.
Here's something I just thought of doing. I'll bring a bathing suit with me tomorrow morning and, after my last paddling, I'll put the bathing suit on and come right to the beach instead of driving home to do that. Hmm, why didn't I think of doing that before this? I know why. It's because how could I explain to Bruce bringing a bathing suit with me while dropping him off for work at five minutes of seven? Hmm, I guess I could have put the bathing suit in the car's trunk while Bruce was showering.
That's sneaky, but he doesn't want to know about the sex I'm getting to wean me off needing sex three or four times a day. Not that I've done any weaning yet, but it's only been four 'effing days. Wait, I have done some weaning as I'm only having sex twice with Derick and once with Bruce.... that's three times a day. So, I've weaned myself down to three times a day, not four.
After saying that, if Derick were willing to go for a triple escort date, I'd do that. Embarrassingly, I tried talking him into doing that yesterday morning, and he flatly refused. So, he's doing more weaning for me than I am. On the other hand, I'm not going out searching for a fourth fuck as I'm sexually satisfied after Derick's sex. Hey, maybe that final paddling reinforces in my head that, no, I'm not horny at all now. The final paddling surely lingers in my mind; that's for sure, and not necessarily in a bad way.
Anyway, I'll take the credit for weaning myself off the need for more sex than I'm presently getting. That eliminates the fourth daily sex, and maybe two weeks from now, I'll make it a single date with Derick, or someone, thereby eliminating the third one. Hmm, right now, that seems inconceivable because Derick is close to being an addiction I simply must have twice a day. Letting him become an addiction is sort of the opposite of weaning myself off the twice-a-morning sex with him so it's a bit of a conundrum.
Getting up off the chair, I walk down to the ocean, giving my sore buttocks a break. Yeah, thinking back on it, Derick paddled me extra good there at the end and I got a hard-on, so...
Shit, when I think back to all the screaming I did getting paddled by Bruce, it seems silly now. Psychologically, it was punishment back then when now it's Derick accomodating extra-submissive clients such as me. That change in attitude makes all the difference in the world, um, psychologically. That, plus Derick doesn't paddle as violently as Bruce did. Bruce was brainwashed into believing, as a recruit, I needed the discipline, plus he was afraid Richard would disapprove of him doing moderate paddling.
That's ancient history, though. Bruce is so much different now. He has a totally different mindset than when he was under the influence of Richard's brainwashing. Looking up the beach to the boardwalk, I can't see the cafe, but Bruce is there close by, and, as I've done every day, I'm going to see him for lunch in an hour or so. That's a nice thing to look forward to.
After meandering along the wet sand from the ocean runoff, I walk in the dry, warm sand, thinking positive thoughts about Derick's escort routine. My ass is feeling better, so I turn around to head back to my rented beach chair and bump into a tall guy who goes, "McGag? Is that my bottom boy, McGag?" Shocked, I stare at the guy, then go, "What the...? Arnold? Arnold Decrich?" He bumps fists with me, saying, "That's me, McGag! What the fuck are you doing in Atlantic City?" That's what he always called me at prep school... McGag instead of McMann. It's a nickname he gave me because I'd always gag when he was deep throating me.
And, at prep, everyone called one another by last names. Not close friends, but I didn't have any close friends, just the gay group for sex when I wasn't tagging after Ronny. I tell Arnold, "I'm just chillin'. How 'bout you, are you on vacation?" He says, "Nah, I'm here on business."
I don't know how I feel about this. He was my most dominant top at prep school, but now he looks too old to have gone to prep school with me. Well, he's always looked much older than he was. He could buy beer as a sixteen-year-old kid, and now he looks as though he could be forty-something. He was two years ahead of me and a huge prick of a bully, but I spent a lot of time sucking his cock and getting fucked by him anyhow.
He roughly rubs my hair and says, "That's a shitty haircut, McGag, but I heard you joined the Navy Seals with that buddy of yours; that kid you ran errands for, Myers, um, Bobby Myers, right? And, I see you're still a Seal." My hand goes to my hair as I mumble, "Um, I just finished my enlistment, actually. And, it was Ronny Myers, not Bobby." He nods, looking just as arrogant as I remember, as he mutters, "You always did what that Myers prick told you, didn't you?" I frown at him. not feeling I need to defend my friendship with Ronny. Arnold roughly rubs my head again, asking, "Did any of those Navy Seals assholes convert you to their side of the sexual aisle?" I mutter, "No, not really."
He puts his arm across my shoulders to roughly bump me against his side, saying, "Working on Wall Street hasn't converted me either. I'm still queer, although neither my wife nor anyone I work with knows it." He's at least three inches taller and has maybe seventy pounds on me. Same light-red hair and bright, almost scary-looking green eyes that always appeared frantic to me. He's got a summer tan now, but when I knew him back at prep, he was so pale he almost looked like an albino.
He says, "Ya know, McGag, when we were kids, you were my favorite bottom boy to torture, heh heh. Remember how I always put my dirtiest sweat sock in your mouth when I cornholed you?" I shrug, and he goes, "You survived, though, didn't you? Well, hell, you're quite the good-looking stud now, and I see you got your buck teeth fixed."
I give him a quizzical look and mumble, "I never had buck teeth." We're walking in the direction Arnold was walking when I bump into him, meaning away from where I was going. His arm across my shoulders is uncomfortably tight as he goes, I probably should apologize for the rough treatment and bullying I did when fucking you, but I won't because you liked it too much, so you should thank me. Hell, you basically asked for it, so you mostly deserved what you got. Don't ya think?"
God, I remember it so well. I mutter, "No, not really," and do a nervous snicker because it's like we're back in prep school. It wasn't only me; Arnold intimidated everybody by his size and bigger-than-life personality, which included a big arrogance and big bullying element. Still, he was always smiling and had a way about him that made a person feel important while being bullied or humiliated. I always felt inferior to him and, at the same time, felt sort of honored he was paying more attention to me than anyone else.
He asks, "So, I'm guessing a gay fairy such as yourself never got married, but how in the fuck did you ever get in the 'effing Navy Seals?" I go, "You're the only one who knew what a fairy I was." He goes, "Oh, no! Mitchell knew, and so did that fat fag kid, Birkenstock. They were there that time I made you dress like a girl and then blow all of us. Remember?" Oh, fuck, yeah, I do remember now that he mentioned it. I had that humiliation nicely suppressed until now.
All of a sudden, we're walking up the beach toward the boardwalk. I try stopping, and he pulls me forward. I go, "Arnold, I have a luncheon date in fifteen minutes, and I'm way up the beach from where I need to be." He goes, "This won't take long. All I need is a blow job before my next appointment. I had a breakfast appointment and another at one o'clock; my next one is at three o'clock, then a nine o'clock meeting tonight with a bunch of losers who want to know how to get rich in the stock market. As if I'd tell them... haha, ya know?"
No, I don't know. He goes, "So, a blow job will do for today, but you'll meet me at my hotel room tomorrow, and we'll recreate old times." Yeah, Arnold was my number one dominant top for three straight years! He wasn't my only dominant top, but he never took no for an answer, and, as I said, I felt flattered he chose me to bully and dominate sexually. He had a half dozen choices, and he fucked them all sooner or later, but I was number one.
Like back in prep school, I'm giving in to what Arnold wants, sliding right back into my role, not that he's giving me much choice. I mean, I'm not about to get in a fistfight on the beach with him, although I know I could kick his ass. That wouldn't be fair, though, because he's right... I liked his bullying treatment back then. We're adults now, though, and he does seem much more obnoxious than I thought he was years ago.
Arnold walks us into a classy boardwalk hotel, his arm still firmly across my shoulders as he's saying, "I met up with Mitchell, Mark Mitchell, remember him?" I nod, "Yes, he wore glasses, and he was the one with buck teeth." He goes, "Was it him? Anyway, he doesn't have buck teeth now. We were at the same huge financial conference in Hawaii about eighteen months ago. The fucker made a fortune from a dumb-ass marketing strategy for some kind of glue product he sold through TV ads. He sold millions of units of the stuff." We're waiting for the elevator in the lobby. I go, "Huh," and he goes, "The cunt pretended he's straight now. Said he was married with two kids."
The elevator door opens, and in we go, then up to the tenth-first floor. Getting out, he says, "My suite is just down here. Tracy, my admin assistant, got me a shitty suite. I mean, the view isn't forward overlooking the ocean; it looks at that huge parking lot in the back. The dumb bitch." He stops, "Here we are."
Inside, he looks at his big ugly Rolex watch and says, "I've only got time for like a ten-minute blow job, but I want you to at least be naked for old time sake. You always had a good body and a nice-looking dick."
I look around the room unable to think how I can avoid doing this, so I sigh, then pull my T-shirt over my head and drop my swimsuit to the floor, then get on my knees in front of him. Meanwhile, he's unbuttoned the shorts he's wearing, and smirks saying, "I'll be flying back to New York City Friday, so you'll need to make the best of it while you can." I'm trying to remember what I used to do, so he goes, "You remember what I like, right, McGag? Pull my 'effing shorts down, dummy!" Nodding, I do that.
How could I forget what he likes? I must have blown him a hundred times in the three years I knew him. I met him just before I turned fourteen. I was in eighth grade, and he was in tenth grade. Then, during his senior year, he transferred to another prep school on the west coast 'cause his father got transferred there. God, I remember wildly missing him!
Anyway, it was always my job to pull his shorts down, proving it was my idea to suck him off if we ever got caught doing it. Memories flood my brain. As soon as his underpants are down, oh, shit! That's right, Arnold is the hairiest kid I ever knew, even as a sixteen-year-old. All that hideous crinkly stiff red body hair and, of course, his thick pubic hair. It's startling, almost frightening to see all this hair after being with the hairless pussy boys I've been blowing for two months.
He gets short hairs at my bangs between his fingers, pulling it hard until I go, "Ow, please, Arnold." Chuckling, he lets go and says in a conversational voice, "After I left, you must have grown a couple of inches, McGag. I don't remember you being this tall." Picking up his big heavy cock, I mumble, "You're right. I had a late growth spurt that my family doctor said was pretty friggin' rare at my age." My old man said the same thing happened to him.
Arnold hits the top of my head with a knuckle, saying, "Drop my cock, knucklehead, and start like you're supposed to by flattening all my unruly pubic hair." I did forget that. Oh man, I start doing long wet licks from the root of his cock up the mass of red pubic hairs, then drag my tongue through his stomach hair to his belly button. I'll have a half dozen curly red pubic hairs in my mouth by the time his pubic bush is saturated with my saliva and plastered to his belly. He mutters, "Uh-huh, yep, that's the way you used to do it. Press your nose into it too." He gets two fingers on each of my ears and holds my face against his crotch, just the way he did it back then.
After the fifth or sixth lap in his pubic hairs, I slip into deeper submissiveness than the one he already had me in and, in a trance now, work up lots of spit to help flatten his pubic bush. He does a short laugh and says, "You haven't lost a step, McGag; you still know how to do what you're told." Why does that sound familiar?
He finally says, "Nice job, fairy boy," and he laughs, adding, "Even after all these years, you're still my favorite cock sucker, so, go ahead, enjoy yourself. Yeah, it's okay, you can suck my cock now... you earned the right." I pick up his cock in a dizzy fog and begin licking the big blunt head, then up and down the heavy shaft. His cock is a little over six inches long and thick, but not as thick as Derick's, although thicker than Bruce's cock.
Still speaking conversationally as if he's talking about the weather, he goes, "Remember that time I made you blow me in the stands at that pep rally. Right in the fucking football stands. Haha, I made you take it out and suck me off right there. Christ, you were so thrilled I invited you to sit with my boys and me. That was so fucking naive of you. Of course, I was considerate and pulled your hoodie over your head, so it looked like, um, well, it looked like you were blowing me. Hahaha, Jesus, that was so random."
With my lips carefully covering my teeth, I'm bobbing up and down on his now iron-hard penis, precum drooling out as he goes on with his reminiscing. "Of course, my posse boys were sitting around us in the stands shielding us a little, all of them hammered like motherfuckers. Me too, plus Wilkinson had that super shit we all smoked as well. Christ, those were the days, huh?"
My cock is as hard as Arnold's now and, making a gasping sound, he puts both hands behind my head, pulling my face tightly against his crotch, then begins to hump his hips driving his fat iron boner down my throat, over and over with me gagging at every thrust, which, as I said, is why he calls me McGag.
In thirty seconds, which feels to me like a half-hour, his cock head expands as precum drools from his boner and mine. Then, making a breathy groan, he blows his load just as he's pulling his cock from my throat. He goes, "Ahhh! Umm, motherfucker, oooh, yeah..." cum shooting, a huge load of it into my mouth, some of it drooling out the sides to roll down my chin. Creamy, warm, thick semen and lots of it. The volume, when swallowed, took most of the pubic hairs in my mouth down my throat.
As I'm sitting back on my heels, swishing my tongue around in my mouth, then picking inside my mouth at a couple of pubic hair that I didn't swallow. Arnold steps back, taking a deep breath; he laughs and points at my boner, saying, "Holy fuck, McGag, I forgot you're the cocksucker who always got a boner while blowing me. You're the only one who did that." I resist stroking my boner, snorting out a chuckle myself. Hell, that brought back some memories, alright!
Lying like a sailor, I tell him, "You're the only guy who ever gave me a boner during a blowjob." He wipes at a cum bubble forming at his cock's piss slit, then pulls up his underwear and shorts, saying, "And you blew everybody back then, but dude, you used to climax before I did." Yeah, I did do that, but, no, I didn't blow everybody, unless he means the four or five gay guys from the entire prep school who I knew about. Plus, yes, I would have blown my load during this deep-throating except for Derick draining my balls earlier.
Well, now that I think about it, yes, Arnold did make me blow some of his friends; guys I didn't know. I had to blow his roommate too, um, about a dozen times actually, and his roommate was straight as an arrow! Even though he was straight, Arnold bullied him into letting me blow him. After the third or fourth time, the roommate didn't need to be talked into it very much. He had a nice dick too, and he was kinda cute as well, but he had a girlfriend and was definitely straight.
Arnold pushes his forefinger under my nose and yanks it upward, smearing the cum from his finger, the cum smear going in my nostrils, him laughing and saying, "I believe that belongs to you. It's the rest of my load for you to swallow. Fuck, this was great fun, McGag." Wiping my nose, then breathing hard out my nose with a few snorts, I stand up, muttering, "Yeah, great fun."
He picks up my bathing suit and throws it at me, saying, "I gotta shower and get ready for my appointment, so you need to leave now, but be back here at one o'clock tomorrow. I'll have finished my eleven o'clock appointment by then." I go, "I don't know about that because..." and he says, "Just be here. Now go!" He pushes my back as I hop on one foot, trying to put my bathing suit on. Arnold drapes my T-shirt over my shoulder and opens the door just as I'm pulling up my swimsuit. Pushing my back, he goes, "I'll see you tomorrow, McGag, and you can do the oral sex all over again, plus I've got a sweat sock for your mouth. It's one I stuffed in a whore boy's mouth I hired on the New York streets, so ya better hope you don't catch anything from him. You'll be getting a good fucking on your ass too. Okay?"
Before I can say if it's okay or not, he slams the door behind me. I pull my T-shirt over my head and walk down the corridor, not sure how I feel right now. As trashy as he was with me, it was considerate treatment compared to how he treated me at prep school. Although more bellicose and obnoxious, he's mellowed too, which tells me what a horrendous bully he was then.
As I leave the hotel and walk across the boardwalk, then down the steps to the beach, I try convincing myself this wasn't having sex for the third time today. That would mean it'll be a four-sex day after Bruce fucks me tonight. I'm going in the wrong direction as far as weaning myself from multiple sex acts goes. I didn't climax, so maybe it doesn't count. No, it was sex number three today; who am I kidding? Dammit!
Walking back down the beach toward my beach chair, it was just bad luck, bad random luck to run into him after all these years. Yeah, but it brought back some hot sexy memories. He was, and apparently still is, a terrible person. Yet, he was the one who taught me, who insisted actually that I become super submissive to him, and, hell, I grew to like being submissive during sex and still do today. Hmm, do I like it even more now than I did at prep school. No, I liked it more back then when my conscience wasn't as developed.
If I show up at his hotel room tomorrow, it'll be a fully qualified four-sex day. Yeah, okay, today will be one too, but he said he'd be going back to New York on Friday, so I can legitimately wean myself down to three-sex days then; I mean, what are the chances I'll run into another somebody like him? Then I can concentrate on dropping down to two-sex days in, um, a couple of weeks maybe. Yeah, before the end of the summer anyway. Good plan, so, yeah, I'll stop in to meet Arnold tomorrow and wean myself down to three fucks a day after that. Wow, though, those glory days at prep school were something alright.
Thinking those rationalized thoughts, I head back to where my beach chair and umbrella are set up while trying to get the last red pubic hair from my mouth. It's actually partially in my throat, I think. Swallowing exaggeratedly, then getting two fingers in my mouth, reaching as far back as possible, but come up empty when I pull my fingers out. Dammit!
Giving up, I shake my head, then I swallow, swallow, swallow, but it still feels like one pubic hair is in there. Hmm, I suppose it could be a phantom hair I'm imagining is in there. Giving up again, I plop down on my chair and go over in my head the strange happenings with my first dominant top, Arnold. First of all, it was so odd that he insisted on being called Arnold at age sixteen. Not Arnie or Art; it had to be either Decrich or Arnold.
I was gay and open about it, at prep well, not open. More like I wasn't hiding it as so many gay guys do, so Arnold had an easy target in me. He didn't waste any time either. My second week after gym class, he showed up and pretended to befriend me. As I said, I was flattered by his attention and, within a week, I was in his room blowing him. Two weeks after that, his big boner was up my ass, and from then on, he pretty much owned me. He taught me submissiveness to him by putting me across his lap, both of us butt naked, my penis between his hairy thighs, and he'd spank me as I jerked off. The spanking continued until I climaxed. That, and other humiliating activities like dressing me like a girl, or putting girl's makeup on me, and then sending me to fetch shit for him. That was later, though. The first semester I was so proud to be his bottom boy, and it wasn't until the third semester that he became abusive. The smelly sweat socks in my mouth when he fucked me or making me blow him as Ricardo Commaro fucked me. Then I had to suck off his roommate and anyone he said, and so forth.
Almost three years of that, but I came to accept and expect it and didn't complain because I kinda liked it, sort of. Plus, I was getting into my idolization of Ronny then as well, and, yeah, in retrospect, I was Ronny's flunky just as Richard analyzed that first night he had me under his influence, and I told him my darkest secrets. Well, I eventually got the best of Richard, but after all these years, Arnold still has me doing what he wants. How sick is that? Haha, some therapist or psychiatrist will have quite a challenge helping me figure me out, um, when I get around to seeking help.
The more I think about this, though, I can do a little something to help myself right now by NOT going to Arnold's room tomorrow. Why do I need to do that, ya know? There's no reason. I like the idea of Arnold looking at his big ugly Rolex frowning, totally expected his fairy-flunky submissive dink to show up... except I'm gonna be a no-show. Yeah, it'll be one teeny-weeny victory for me after one-hundred-and-one losses in a row. I'm never likely ever to see that dominant prick again, so I'll have one teeny-weeny win in overtime, so to speak.
Now all I need to do is follow through on that, and I think I'm going to. I'm pretty sure I'm going to. For now, it's lunch with my one-sider lover boy. While walking up the beach putting on my T-shirt, I'm making a long gagging sound trying to dislodge that fucking pubic hair either at the back of my mouth or the top of my throat. Fuck!
In the cafe, smiling, I get seated in Bruce's section and watch him running around serving lunch. It's one o'clock, so it's hectic in the cafe. Bruce comes over smiling and saying, "Hi, boyfriend. You're looking, um, awfully contented." I shrug, "That's because you're so close I could kiss you if I were quick about it you." He goes, "Uh-huh, but don't. There's no fraternizing with the customers, so you'd only get me in trouble." I'm smirking at him as he plops a menu on the small table for two I'm at, and says, "I'll be right back to take your order, sir."
Seeing Bruce nails it down tight. I'm going to start weaning my sexual excesses! Arnold has seen the last of me. I will not let myself down, and, anyway, I'll have had all I need by the time Derick is through with me. That extra hard last paddling before he excuses me tomorrow morning at around eleven-thirty will be my reminder not to go knocking on Arnold's hotel room door. That's what I'll think about as Derick swings that paddle. It's actually a shame I need to use the paddling for that purpose, though, because the last couple of days, I've been thinking how great the sex with Derick was during the paddling. It makes the paddling so good.
Between my two escort dates with Derick this morning, we didn't go for breakfast, so I'm hungry now and have a cheesesteak and fried for lunch. Leaving my usual exorbitant tip for Bruce, I wink at him as I'm leaving, getting his cute smile in return. Goddamn, he's a different guy since getting this job at the cafe. Yes, in honor of Bruce, I'm going to stiff that stiff Arnold.
Feeling good about that, I stop at the rental stand and say to Markie, who is reading another paperback book, "Young dude, when does school start for you?" Looking up, he mutters, "September third, why?" I go, "In three weeks, huh? Gee, it's just that I realized I won't see you after that until next summer. That's disturbing." He cheekily goes, "I might not work here next summer, so you might never see me again. How do you like that?" I say, "I think I'll stalk you," and I point at him, adding, "Yep, that's what I'm gonna do." He says, "I'll call the cops on your ass if you do." Chuckling, I walk away thinking how much more normal Markie is than I was at his age. He's a gay kid with a boyfriend but not obsessed with it as I was, as I still am. Huh...
Sitting in my beach chair, my ass isn't sore anymore, so that's encouraging. Derick knows what he's doing; he knows how to paddle properly. That's true, but I'm thinking about the last smile I got from Bruce, which makes me think about our sex before bed tonight. See, I'm obsessed with sex. I should be thinking about Bruce's progress in all the other aspects of his life. The sex is eight minutes long if we're lucky. So, how about the other 1432 minutes of each day? I should be proud of helping Bruce deal with all 1440 minutes. He's told me many times how much he appreciates my help.
Hmm, but am I helping for his benefit or mine? Well, it's both, right? You see, I can't function very well on my own. I don't know what to do with myself, so I think up crazy shit to doubt myself about. Crazy shit to worry about. I'm either doing that or I'm fixated on sex.
Where's my book? Somebody stole my 'effing book! Fuck this! I go for a long swim concentrating on finishing a whole mile, and I do. Jesus, that's exhausting but feels good too. Now I'm able to relax in the beach chair and not think about too much. Just watch the scene in front of me as a normal person does. Then, holy fuck, here comes Derick with his beach towel, saying, "Hey, Zack, wassup?" Oh yeah, I perk up, "Yo, my favorite pussy boy. How ya doing, Derick? You're looking terrific." He spreads his beach towel out ten feet from my chair, not right next to it, saying, "I'm good, especially now that I've got this awesome client who's making me rich."
Nodding, I go, "Do tell. That doesn't surprise me, though, you being a super attractive dude and all." Lying down, he says, "Spread some sunblock on my back," and he holds out a bottle of Beach & Sport 100% Mineral Sunscreen. Damn, the bossy way he basically ordered me to do that made me grope my junk before hopping up and kneeling in the sand next to him, saying, "Of course, Derick. My pleasure." He snickers and says, "I know it is."
Oh man, spreading the sunscreen on his back and shoulders gives me another boner. Wow, his body, while smallish, is so fucking hot. I relive the tough sex he laid on me this morning... twice. And our making out! And the sexy paddling.
Lying on his beach towel, he has his hands together under his chin, saying, "How hard is your dick about now?" I laugh, "Wicked hard, that's how hard it is." He goes, "I figured as much. Hey, I quit the locker room job by telling Richard I wanted to concentrate on hiring a recruit." Spreading the sunscreen down the back of his legs, I ask, "How'd that go?" He shrugs, "You know Richard. He let me quit the job, but then dragged me into his office, and I had to blow him as a pretend punishment for quitting. He's my main man. Richard hired me but had other recruits so he sent me to the Delaware pussy boys. A friend of Richard trained me and put me on the street and so forth, now I'm back working for Richard, so I do what he says..."
I mutter, "He's an asshole." Derick goes, "Yeah, everybody knows that, but he's pretty cool too. I enjoy giving him oral sex, and he knows I do." I'm like, "That's interesting. Are you, um, submissive to him?" He goes, "Whadda, you think? Of course, I am. Well, not as submissive as you are to me, few people are as submissive as that, but he dominates me, yeah. Everybody has somebody who they're submissive to in one way or another."
Rubbing sunscreen down his other leg, I mutter, "Yeah, I agree," and he says, "That's enough with the sunscreen, or I'll need to charge you for fondling me." I go, "Yes, Derick," and put the cap on the tube. I'd like to lie on him the way we cuddle during our nap. Reading my mind, he says, "Go sit in your chair now, don't even think about lying with me on my beach towel." Sitting down, I go, "Ha, that thought never entered my mind." He mumbles, "Yes, it did. What would Bruce think if he saw that?" Holy shit, Bruce will be coming down here in a half-hour!
Staring at Derick's closely-cropped blond hair, it's obvious he's a pussy boy. Well, not to the casual observer, but Bruce will know. I'm like, "Does Bruce know you?" Derick mumbles, "No, how the hell would he know me?" That's right; he transferred here from Delaware. I go, "Um, don't say anything, okay. I mean about you and me." He looks over at me and says, "I won't, but he'll know because he knows what you're like."
I go, "Why are you trying to get me in trouble?" He snickers, then says, "I'm just fucking with you, Zach. Richard gave me a client from the locker room who will be coming down to join me any minute now. We'll move away from here when he shows up. You're so easy! Haha." I'm like, "I knew you were breaking my balls. Hey, how'd you know my boyfriend will be here soon?" He goes, "Because you told me about Bruce. Plus, I just connected the dots on something. I figured out that it was you two who fucked up the New York pussy boy cub. Today Richard alluded to it while talking on the phone as I was rinsing my mouth out after blowing him."
Thinking about that, I'm like... so what? So, I ask, "What do you think about that?" He goes, "I like you even more now. I think that was awesome!" Oh, good. I start to tell him about it but stop when a guy about forty-five or so stops next to Derick and says, "There you are." Derick sits up and goes, "Oh, hi, Bob. I'm here for you." Derick stands and takes the beach chair from the pot-bellied guy, saying, "Where would you like to set up on the beach?" The older guy says, "For one thing, you should have waited for me at the rental booth. I did not appreciate needing to look for you, and I thought you said your hotel was on Ocean Street. Why are we three blocks from there."
Derick apologizes as he gathers his beach towel, mumbling, "This is the closest to the locker room, so I thought..." and Bob goes, "Let me do the thinking. We'll walk down the beach to Ocean Street and set up there." As they walk away, Bob says, "Three hundred dollars for three hours! I expect better than this." The last thing I hear is, "Yes, Bob, I'm sorry."
Huh, obviously Bob isn't submissive, so the pussy boy becomes so. Just doing his job, but three hundred dollars for three hours? I'm paying almost three times that for about three hours. Well, maybe Bob isn't getting the paddling or the make-out, and he certainly isn't getting to sleep with Derick. All that shit costs money. He's paying for sitting in a beach chair with Derick lying next to him, then I suppose Bob gets his dick sucked and he fucks Derick. Three hundred sounds about right for that.
Then, there's Bruce! A big smile broke out on my face when I turned around to look just as he was leaving the rental booth. How'd I know he was there? I could sense his presence. Getting up, I meet him halfway, mumbling, "Let me take that for you, boyfriend," and pull the beach chair from his hand. He chuckles, "Yeah, okay, thanks." Walking next to him, I bump against his side, asking, "Did you have a good day?" He chuckles again, saying, "Yeah, I made almost fifty dollars in tips. This one dude left me twenty bucks." I snicker, "Jesus, he must be a sap, huh?" He goes, "That kid at the rental booth said you were in your usual cheerful frame of mind, and I see that you are. How'd he know I'm with you?"
Setting up his chair, I go, "He doesn't miss anything. He's noticed you with me together before, and I told you about me beating up the homophobes who abused him and his boyfriend." Sitting down, Bruce says, "Oh, yeah. And now I remember him saying one time he liked me better than another guy you were with." Yeah, the other guy was Jon, who, like Derick, works in the locker rooms. I should change the subject, but Bruce does that for me, asking, "Do you have cigarettes on you?" I give him one, and we smoke, discussing what to have for dinner tonight. Ah, domestic shit with my boyfriend. I feel so good being with him.
He's been on his feet for hours, so we spend two hours simply sitting on the beach chairs without talking much. Bruce looks very relaxed, and we finally take a long swim and chill out some more, not leaving the beach until almost seven o'clock. Markie is long gone by then, so we leave the chairs and umbrella on the beach for the late crew to collect them. If Markie is there, we help him out by bringing the stuff to the rental place.
Back at the apartment, we're in the bathroom naked, Bruce humoring me by letting me do the pussy boy bathing of him as if he's my client. I take my time and then when he gets out of the shower stall to dry himself, I shampoo and wash, later joining him in the kitchen for shots of Jim Beam with Budweiser chasers. Bruce says, "Ya know what, Zach? Order us a pizza for dinner; keep it simple." I do that, and put my arms around him, telling him how sexy and good-looking he is, especially with his longer hair. Bruce shrugs, mumbling, "C'mon, Zach, you're the good-looking one, not me." Finger combing his hair off his forehead, I say, "You're beautiful to me."
We take our beers out on the balcony to smoke a cigarette, and when we're done, I put my arm around him again and lean over to kiss him on the lips. Bruce kisses back and then smiles, murmuring, "You're growing on me by leaps and bounds, Zach," and he kisses me, adding, "I'm even enjoying kissing, which I never thought I would. I don't mean just with you; I mean with any guy. You're changing my mind about many things."
I hug him with the side of our faces touching, staying like this until we see the pizza delivery car double park below us. Bruce nods his head at the sliding glass doors, and I go in to buzz the delivery kid into the building, then open our apartment door slightly and wait for him. Bruce only likes cheese pizza, so that's what I ordered. After paying and over-tipping, I take the pizza into the kitchen and get out the round-bladed pizza cutter to finish the job the pizzeria should have done. I've never had a pizza that was fully cut into wedges... ever.
We have another beer and sit at the kitchen table eating the pizza right from the box. Bruce says, "You're staring at me again," and I go, "I love you, Bruce." He goes, "I know you do, and I'm glad you do, but you don't need to stare at me all the time." I go, "Yes, I do." He snorts out a laugh, muttering, "Oh, I didn't realize that." I'm like, "I can't wait until we're in bed." He says, "Let me clean up the kitchen a little, and then you won't need to wait until bedtime." I go, "Really?" He mumbles, "Yes, really."
He stands up, collects the paper napkins we've used, puts them in the pizza box with uneaten crust pieces, and after bending the box in half, sticks it in the trash. He gets the beer cans, saves them for recycling, then spays the table with kitchen cleaner and wipes it down with paper towels. Done that, he grips behind my neck, murmuring, "Come with me, boyfriend," and heads me toward the bedroom.
Quickly undressing, we look at one another as I lick my lips. He motions with his hand for me to get down in front of him. I slowly drop to my knees, lean over to push my face against his cock, inhaling mostly the scent of bath gel. I shouldn't have bathed him so well. My arms go around his ass, and I squeeze my face against his privates as he rubs my hair, saying, "You make me feel special, Zach. Another new experience for me, but I swear to God I don't know how you can love me after the things I put you through."
Looking up at him, I murmur, "I kept coming back for more because I wanted to be with you, so don't blame yourself; you were only doing your job." He goes, "A horrible job." I'm like, "And now it's over, and you're making up for everything I had to do by being with me." He shakes his head, mumbling, "You're determined to make me love you, aren't you?" I nod, "Uh-huh," and he goes, "You're winning the race too, but get into sucking my dick now. I've been waiting all day for this." I grin, "Yes, Bruce." He chuckles, "Well, do it."
What a pleasure it is to do intimate things with Bruce's body. Compared to that hairy ape Arnold, well, there is no comparison. I did that for old-time sake and to avoid a confrontation. Sure, I like sucking cock and getting fucked by guys, even Arnold, but doing those things with Bruce is on such a higher level, as I said, there's no comparison. Even delicious Derick, with all his attributes that I admire and find to be extremely attractive, he too is at a lower level, um, somewhere between Arnold and the perfect one (for me) Bruce.
Holding Bruce's penis in my fingers, I lick all around it and immediately spring a boner. With my nose pressed against his hairless pubic area, I'm doing long licks beginning under his scrotum then up to the root of his cock, doing it all around and under his nuts. Ummm, he tastes good. I especially like licking the inside of his leg with his scrotum against my cheek and feeling his hard lower nut. I wonder if Bruce would let me lick and suck his feet as Derick did? I'll bet it would make Bruce feel self-conscious.
Straining my head back, I try getting my tongue to reach his asshole, but from the front, I can't quite reach it. Bruce is taking deep breaths, his fingers never stopping going back through my short hair. When I finally put the head of his penis in my mouth and lick it with my tongue Bruce gasps, and shuffles his feet. His dick was getting hard when I was licking his balls and all around them, and now it grows as hard as granite, poking up. I bob up and down on it until Bruce steps back, pushing gently at my head. A string of precum stretches from the piss slit of his cock to my lips, then breaks off and swings down to stick to his seven wickedly hard inch boner. I lean over and lick up his hard cock getting most of the precum on my tongue.
On my knees, I'm staring at his perfect-looking boner as Bruce grunts, "Lube your ass, quickly!" Oh boy, he's still got it. He's another natural dominant top, or maybe he reverted to being my stern training mentor without thinking. In any case, I liked it and hopped up to quickly do as I'm told. He shakes his head, muttering, "That didn't come out the right way. Sorry."
Pushing lube inside my rectum and then a glob on my anus, I go, "No, it was just right, Bruce. You need to stay on top of me as our leader." He mutters, "No, I don't. I need to be your boyfriend." I go, "My leader boyfriend," and he shakes his head again, chuckling and mumbling, "Yeah, okay. Get your ass over here." Grinning, I do that, and he turns me around and gets an arm around me. His other hand guides his boner to my asshole, and I go, "Aaahhh, yeaaah..." as he humps it inside me.
Oh, yeah, I saw some stars there for a minute. Whew, that hurt, but like I've been noticing for a while now... it hurt so good! Damn, I wish I hadn't convinced Bruce that the spankings weren't doing anything for me. Derick's paddling adds a lot to the sex; it really does. Oh, Christ, haha, I'm turning into Cowboy. Yeah, but I think the reason it adds a lot is that Derick insisted on it, um, dominantly. Bruce didn't insist; he thought he was doing me a favor, which is the opposite of dominant.
What is dominant about Bruce is that he always rams his entire boner up inside my ass, BANG! That's just the way he does it, and I like it. I also like that he leaves it up there, merely doing little humps against my buttocks. I'm not positive about this, I'll have to ask him, but I think he does that to give the head of his boner time to recover after it did the heavy lifting of opening my reluctant anus and rectum sufficiently to accommodate his hard sex organ that, from my rectum's point of view, came in the wrong way. My ass isn't pleased, and it protests by causing pain, but as his penis head recovers, conveniently, so does my rectum.
He has both arms around me now, and as I begin relaxing, so does Bruce. It's a simpatico situation right there. With his lips close to my left ear, he murmurs, "You are very special to me, Zach. I'm feeling emotions I've read about but never expected to experience. I didn't even totally believe they existed, and then you dropped into my life." He pulls his perfect boner back and steadily pushes it in, making a 'Ummm' sound, and then he does it again. The pain faded quickly, even before he moved his boner, so as Bruce was moaning, "Ummm," I was moaning too, "Mmm, ahh," because it feels so good to me too.
I've had this thought before, and it still puzzles me that there are pleasure nerve endings in my ass. It's obvious why the penis is jam-packed with nerve endings, but why the rectum? Hmm? Wondering about that is like the meme 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth,' so I'll simply accept the gift. Bruce has activated and energized the anal pleasure zones with steady thrusting of his pleasure-giving sex organ, pleasure for him and me.
But, wait... I think I'm the recipient of double-the-pleasure as it's coming from my rectum and my pulsating hard penis. It is a pleasure someone should write a book about.
Our bodies are almost like one as Bruce's smoothly-moving, very hard sex organ goes back and forth inside me generating a tsunami of sexual pleasure that is so obvious I can almost see it as well as feel it. I'm limply bumping against him, the back of my head on his shoulder as he moves only his hips driving all seven inches of hard cock back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in my ass with my quiet mantra of, "Ooh, ooh, ooh," slipping from my throat, my eyes closed as I'm floating in Bruce's cloud of pleasure.
Steady and hypnotic waves of pleasure, his soft sounds of breathing close to my ear, the scent of him in my head, the feel of his arms around me, my back against his chest as he takes care of me on this magic carpet ride that I never want to end. But there are rumblings ahead as our climaxes build on their own, growing into disturbingly loud noises that can't be ignored. Bruce makes a grunting sound and begins thrusting faster, and then harder too until the slapping sound of his crotch smacking into my buttocks ring out, "Slap, slap, slap," and everything becomes desperate, including my moans that now are, "Ahh, ahh, ahh, oh Bruce..." but he's humping a hundred miles an hour down a dead-end street trying to outrun his climax. It can't be done, and I hump my hips, "Eeeiii, aaahhh!" cum exploding from my hard, straight out penis.
It's a streak, a blast of semen, burning my piss slit coming out with great force four feet in front of me to land "Splat!" against the second from the bottom drawer of the bureau. Sensations blind me for a second, and then pleasure spreads out from my groin even as pleasure blossoms brightly in my rectum before fading out. Then, Bruce gasps, humps once against my buttocks, gasps again, and fills me up with his creamy hot cum. A weaker humps and a weaker groan from Bruce, and we're both limp, him leaning forward and me backward, against one another.
A murmured, "Omigod," from Bruce, then he takes a deep breath and murmurs, "Omigod," again, before stepping back, his cock slipping out of me as he's saying, "That was, um, gooily spectacular. I got lost in it for a minute." I'm nodding, still shivering from the sizzling after-effects of my orgasm. Gulping and turning around, I go, "Wow, what a climax, huh? I can't remember a better one."
Bruce nods, looking confused, then grips the back of my neck, mumbling, "Let's clean up, but, yeah, that was really good. See, it's getting hotter reach night. I really got off on that." He's sounding excited as he lightly pushes me into the bathroom, adding, "It's so great to be actually looking forward to sex, Zach. Oh, I know that's nothing new to you, for you, whatever, but it is to me. Our nightly sex is, um, it's fun and awesome."
He has a washcloth wiping at my butt cheeks, saying, "Don't you agree?" I enthusiastically say, "Absolutely, but I never knew you weren't enjoying our sex before." Now he's using the same washcloth wiping his dick, still sounding excited, saying, "It was more like I felt it was my responsibility before... like a job. Then, these past few nights, it's felt as if, ah, I don't know... something I wanted to do. Sure, climaxing always feels good. It felt good when I was on the job, but now it feels better. Mutual pleasure or something like that. I don't want to analyze it; I just want to enjoy the hell out of it. It's new for me, Zach!"
I'm drying my ass, mumbling, "I understand, really I do, and I'm thrilled with all of it." He turns on the shower for his unnecessary nightly shower, saying, "Whatever you're doing during the day, and I don't want to know what it is, it's working because our climaxes hold off, and the pleasure goes on twice as long. Keep it up, um, if you need to." Nodding, but not wanting to further this discussion, I go, "Do you want me to shower with you?" He chuckles, "No, you don't need to, and I know you don't think I need to either, but I like showering."
While he does that, I go into the bedroom and pull on my cargo shorts, then in the kitchen, I get a beer and have a smoke on the balcony, grinning and feeling good about everything. This is working. I can't guess when Bruce will decide he'd like an afternoon sex act to go with the bedtime sex, but he will. And, the key words there are want to. He'll want to, I always want to, but him wanting to do it with me means love could be right around the corner. Maybe...
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com.
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