MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY
Chapter 47
By Donny Mumford
Thursday, I walk out of the hotel at one-thirty, leaving Dickie in the room so he can sleep for an hour and a half. I'll probably need to wake him for our ten-minute follow-up quickie. And, after that, I expect I'll be calm and relaxed meeting Bruce on the beach at three-thirty. Plus, I have the room until eleven o'clock tomorrow, so we'll use it tomorrow as well. Man, today started sucky, but I kept at it, and it's turned into an exciting and enjoyable day so far. The best part is I'm not horny. I want to stay that way, which is one reason for the daytime sex... another reason is, I like it.
It's a two-minute drive to the beach parking lot; then I walk by the rental booth seeing Markie's still absent, which is disappointing. Resting in my beach chair, I'm feeling good. Dickie came through for me and, as I said I'm not horny, but I've still got a little bit of an itch for one more hard fuck today. Sure, it'd be better if Dickie had a bigger cock, but he gets all there is to get out of the small one Nature provided him. It's a little different with him, but he still managed to get me slightly submissive, and I had a good climax. Nothing remarkable, but it was okay.
But, ya know, it's funny how quickly I become enamored with confident pussy boys, like Dickie, and Derick, and Jon too. They all have their different dominant ways, but then, that's the exciting part. Dickie's wrong, though. He said if Bruce ever dumped me, I'd fall in love with the very next guy who provided me with sub/dom sex, and with few exceptions, that's not true. Okay, Derick would sort of fall into a category of someone I could fall for, perhaps. Not Jon, though, I don't think, and not Dickie. Well, maybe Dickie now that I think about it. He's fun to be with.
So, yeah, I guess he's partially correct because there have been a couple of pussy boys who I've had the thought... if I wasn't in love with Bruce, I could be happy with so-and-so as my leader. You know, an attractive, dominant top, meaning young and on the smaller side. Come to think of it, more than one guy has said that same thing about me falling for the next guy up. Not that it matters if they're right or wrong because I am in love with Bruce, and I know he isn't going to dump me. It is curious, though, how susceptible I am to falling for dominant younger guys.
Surprisingly, that fact doesn't bother me all that much because I now know what I like, whereas I was floundering before by living a lie with Ronny. And, hell, Cowboy is a perfect specimen of a younger guy, who's also beautiful, but I never fell head over heels for him. I think that's because I'm too much like him, meaning we're both happiest being submissive bottoms.
And Cowboy's not dominant; he's more the sweetheart type, an almost perfect young gay guy who enjoys life to the fullest. Sure, it helps that he's independently wealthy, but so am I, and it's taken me years to get into a similar, positive, sort of happy-go-lucky frame of mind. Cowboy has had that outlook for as long as I've known him. Ha, and right now he and Lee are in puppy love, and if it doesn't work out long term, which it probably won't, they'll be broken-hearted for a month or so and then move on to fall in love again. They've only recently turned nineteen, so they have all the time in the world to rebound and fall in love all over again.
Lucky bastards, but I've blamed myself many times this summer for wasting my youth trying to be someone I'm not... now I'm done with that. I'm doing my best catching up on as much of the things I've missed as possible, and, consequently, I've been happy this summer, even with all its ups and downs.
While I believe all of the above is true, the most important factor is that Bruce is now a constant in my life, and I'm better for it. I want to make our relationship work, and part of making it work is getting my horniness under control, which I'm working on. I'm doing that by taking baby steps, first maintaining the status quo without increasing it. Then, O'll be gradually reducing my need for multiple sex acts each day until my leader, Bruce, is comfortable with more sex than we've been having together. At that point, I won't need sex with anyone but him.
Of course, Bruce needs to want to have sex with me, which he only recently decided he does. Previously, he felt it was an obligation because I've helped him with an alternative lifestyle. He's made excellent progress, especially since getting the waiter job, but unfortunately, his job means I'm on my own for too much of the day, and I miss him. On the other hand, it gives me the time to deal with my horniness, so...
So, here I am. It'd be hypocritical of me not to admit I like the process of reducing my need for lots of sex. It's been as sexually hot as the hubs of hell, which I feel guilty about, but there it is anyhow. And, here is maybe the most exciting development in all of this. Yes, presently I want and need a dominant sex partner, but the dominant factor is secondary to the love factor when having sex with Bruce. I'm not concerned with him being especially dominant... the dominant factor doesn't play with my mind when we're having sex together. To me, it's inferred that Bruce is the dominant one between the two of us. No, he doesn't need to be demonstrative about it; we both know he's our leader. When I'm having sex with others, though, they do need to be extra dominant because I don't love them. They're paid to do it with me. Huge difference.
Yes, that's the most exciting revelation that I've come up with since going all the way back to when Richard first fucked and dominated me into the disclosure, the realization that I've been pretending I was a dominant top. Acting the part of a dominant top and not enjoying it much, not when compared to how much I appreciate the bottom role. After saying that, I don't need to switch all the way, one-hundred-eighty-degrees, from a dominant top to a submissive bottom BANG! I can settle into preferring to the bottom role without being stupidly submissive about it. Lately, that's how I've noticed I am with Bruce, so, with him at least there's some prgress on my part too.
Hmm, all these thoughts swirls around my brain, contradicting and confusing me until I stand and yell at myself, "Stop it!" Oh shit, haha, everyone in the vicinity turns to look at me, including the two gay swisher lovers, who I smile at, then sit back down. That was random...
Clearing my head, I go for a swim, then I leave the beach to buy a hotdog and Coke on the boardwalk. While walking back to the ramp and my car, I eat and drink my lunch. Dropping the Coke's paper cup in the trash, I drive the short distance to the hotel Dickie is sleeping at. I probably could have walked but I said I'd knock on the door at precisely three o'clock and I wanted to be sure I'm on time.
Waking down the corridor to the room at five of three, I'm smiling and excited but not incredibly horny. This sex is probably unnecessary, except it's available, so why not? After another good fucking from Dickie, I'll be as relaxed and contented as a pussy cat sleeping on someone's lap, which is perfect for when I meet Bruce. After all my musings on the topic of me and sex, two objectives haven't changed. One, weaning myself of feeling as if I 'need' sex three or four times a day. The second, a result of the first is making sure I'm not frantically horny for sex with Bruce at night. That way, he can enjoy it, and eventually, theoretically, he'll want to do it more often. In other words, we're working, sex-wise, to meet in the middle from our different perspectives.
I need to knock on the door three times before a sleepy-eyed Dickie opens the door wearing only jockey underwear, asking, "Is it three o'clock already?" He makes me smile, and, as happens with me, the more often I see the same pussy boy, the cuter he seems. I rub his too-long hair, too long for a pussy boy, saying, "Yep, three o'clock on the dot." Ignoring me, he leaves me standing at the door as he goes into the bathroom. Huh, I walk into the room and close the door behind me.
Dicky comes out of the bathroom looking awake now after washing his face and slicking down his hair. He's taking off his underpants, saying, "You've only got ten minutes so let me have the two bills upfront, and we'll get right to it." After dropping, two hundred-dollar bills on the bed, I quickly got undressed, then fell to my knees in front of him. Again I need to stifle a snicker when I gawk at his three-inch penis with the oddly large head. He immediately takes hold of my head with both hands, the head on my shoulders, and pulls it down to his junk, then presses my face against that and rubs my face around a little, saying, "I need to do a better job of earning my money. I was too buddy-buddy with you earlier... I need to be more dominant when serving an 'S' type client such as yourself."
Well, yeah, sure he does since I don't even love him a little bit... haha. My nose rubs tightly on his belly where his pubic hairs would typically be as my lips drag over his cock, my chin hitting his scrotum. He's slowly moving my face back and forth on his privates while I'm acting docile, letting him do as he wants 'cause I just felt an inkling of submissiveness. Letting myself go with it, I'm not thinking much about anything except Dickie's hands on my head and the feel of his naked privates' area against my face, plus his scent... it's becoming nicely dominant of him and sexy.
He says, "The clock is ticking," so with my face squished against his privates, I try to lap the head of his cock into my mouth. He's still moving my face a little this way and that as I get my tongue out all the way and lick the abnormally big head of his otherwise tiny penis. It takes five or six good licks before I feel it stir under my tongue. Alright, now that I've activated some erectile fluids, they begin flowing into his sex organ, such as it is.
I do a few more long licks, and his dick firms up a little more, and then a lucky lick gets under the head, and I grip the neck of his dick between my lips. Using very little force, I move my head up slightly, and his cock slides inside my mouth on my tongue, all of it. Dickie goes, "Ummm." I've got it now and go to town licking the head while sucking on the skinny shaft turning his baby-dick into a hard spike with a blunt head. Needing oxygen, I turn my head slightly to the side to inhale a deep breath through my nose. He lets up on my head now, shuffling his feet, and now I'm able to bob up and down on his steel spike.
Precum soon drools out, and he's pushing my head away, saying, "Assume the position." I drop my hands to the floor. Then, I start to push up my ass from habit but quickly realize that's not what Dickie needs. He's too short to want that, so I lower my ass a little, and he spanks the hell out of it with his hand. I'm embracing the submissive sense I felt when he held my face squished against his crotch, and now letting the submissiveness expand during my spanking. While spanking my ass, Dickie makes aroused sounds, sexual arousal moans, "Oh, oh umm, oh," as if he's getting off by spanking me. Hmm, a spanking fetish?
When the stinging gets too much, I start walking on my hands and knees to get away from his spanking hand. In my deepening delicious submissiveness, I don't think of complaining about my stinging buttocks. Then, unexpectantly, he rams his cock inside, firing the head in past my sphincter muscle, and I go, "Aiiieee," as he grabs my hips and begins humping his boner back and forth inside me like a mad man, "Slap, slap, slap!"
The pain quickly fades as I stay still for him, allowing the pounding in my ass with my eyes wide open as I make little quick moaning sounds, "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ooh, umm..." Great pleasure is bursting off my prostate; that's in a constant state of super stimulations.
Everything he's done was unexpected, and I'm highly aroused, feeling pleasantly dominated. It's a quick three-minute thrill ride, then my back arches, and I squeal embarrassingly as my wooden boner spurts out one, two, then a third hot creamy streak of cum. Not long lines, but the sensations take my breath away. The second Dickie heard my squeal, he pulled his cock out, leaving me shivering and shuddering, not knowing what happened for a second there. It was such an unexpected abrupt entrance and then an abrupt withdrawal; it was all so, um, all so startling.
Swaying on my hands and knees as the after-effects of that climax swarm over me, shivers going down my spine to my toes, I feel weak but good too. I look over when I hear the faucet turn on in the bathroom and see Dickie washing up at the sink, and only then do I notice cum drooling out my ass and down the inside of my left thigh. Yeah, he didn't have time to put on a condom, so he fucked me bareback. I'll bet he got so aroused from spanking me, he lost it and went crazy. Awesome!
I start to stand as he comes out of the bathroom, Dickie saying sternly, "Stay down!" I get back on my hands and knees, looking down and feeling that awesome submissiveness again. Looking at the floor, I see the three little blobs of my climax. Little nuggets of cum that felt like long streams of creamy semen when coming out. He grips and squeezes the back of my neck, saying, "Good, you did what you're told. Was that dominant enough for you?" I say, "Yes, Dickie."
He pats my head, mumbling, "I told you you'd get your money's worth. You can get up now." Letting out a long-held breath, one I didn't know I was holding in, I get up, and he points at the droplets of cum, saying, "Clean that up."
As I do that, he gets another nine-dollar can of beer from the little convenience bar, sits down, and asks, "Did you set up a date with me tomorrow?" The submissiveness drains away rather quickly, and I get embarrassed for becoming that submissive to little Dickie, um, the person, not his... oh, never mind.
Well, it's what I wanted, right? I say, "You didn't use a condom," which doesn't have anything to do with what he asked me. He goes, "That's right, but no extra charge. I felt like it, that's all. So, did you set up a date for tomorrow?" I go, "Not yet, but I definitely will." Still a bit foggy, I'm just standing here holding the tissues I used to clean up my cum droplets as his large deposit of cum continues drooling down the back of my legs.
Dickie swallows some beer, totally comfortable being in charge. He points to the bathroom, "Go clean your ass, and then I have a suggestion for you." I nod and go into the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it, then wiping his cum off my butt cheeks, anus, and legs. It's still leaking out, though, so I hold a few tissues at my asshole, only now realizing how terrific I feel. With the tissues held at my ass, I walk back to the bedroom, asking, "What's your idea?"
He goes, "First, how'd you like my escort service?" I grin and say, "Top notch, excellent but too fast." He goes, "Hey, you're the one who blew his load first, then I blew mine seeing how aroused I'd gotten you. It was a turn-on."
That's a lie. He had to blow his load first because he pulled out the second I squealed at my climax. And, I could mention the real turn-on for him was his spanking fetish, but I won't because I don't want to embarrass him. Instead, I say, "You surprised me about three times... it was hot sex, Dickie, scorching hot sex."
He says, "Okay, then, I did my job. Now, here's my idea. You arrange another date with me, an overnight date this time, and I stay here where I'll be available to you at whatever it's convenient for you." I ask, "How much will that cost?" He shrugs, "My main man will decide that. You'll need to ask Richard." I'm like, "But I won't be able to stay here with you, so I'll be paying extra for nothing." He goes, "Oh, that's right. I forgot you have a boyfriend. So, how about this. Just arrange a date with me for tomorrow; I'll finish my shift online at seven o'clock tonight, then come over here and spend the night alone. That's a better idea anyway."
It's my turn to shrug, "Sure, I won't be using the room so you can use it, but won't they wonder where you are tonight if you don't sleep at the apartment?" He finishes the beer, standing and saying, "They don't care as long as I do my ten-hour shift, which I'm into now." Right on cue, his cell phone rings. He gets it and answers, "Yeah?" Listening, then, "What type and where?" Then he says, "Well, fuck, I just now finished with that 'S' type client you hooked me up with." Listening, then he goes, "Five hundred... and that's every penny."
Ending the call, he says, "Yeah, that was Richard, and I told him how much I made so far; I included the freelance thingie here too. I don't want to cheat him. Anyway, he's got another client for me... a sixty-something-year-old guy who's waiting for me at a casino hotel. I can easily walk to the hotel from here. It's only ten blocks or so." I'm nodding while checking to see if his cum is still drooling out of me.
He adds, "Wait for a few hours before calling to set us up for tomorrow. Do we have a deal?" I go, "Sure, great idea, but I'll be here early tomorrow; around six tomorrow morning." Shrugging again, he says, "Well, I'll be here too." We both get dressed; he takes the key card with him, mumbling, "This is great. After my shift, I'll get a change of clothes and my toiletry stuff, then come here and have a good night's sleep for once."
Dickie opens the door, then turns back and asks, "You won't mind if I charge a little something from room service for my dinner, will you?" I wave a hand, "Of course not. See you tomorrow morning." When the door closes, I check one more time to make sure no more of Dickie's cum is leaking out of my ass. Nope, I'm good.
Ten minutes later, I'm sitting in my beach chair waiting for my future lover boy, Bruce. Currently, he's my hot sex-buddy, and that's fine for now, but I'm becoming more and more optimistic each day that he's inching towards a facsimile of love. Considering his brutal past, that could take a while, but we're definitely friends, even sort of boyfriends now, which is one of the many steps necessary for eventually falling in love. Duh!
It's a good thing I'm not fanatical about Bruce being in love with me because it may never happen. I realize it could be an unrequited love situation forever as he may not be capable of love. He may not be able to love himself, not after the life he's led the past seven years. Yeah, but that can change if I'm patient. There isn't anything I can do to make him love me; I know that. It's impossible to make someone love you.
Hmm, Dickie said to wait a couple of hours before calling Richard to set up an escort date with him. Fuck that, though; I'll do it now. Looking up the phone number, I call and Richard answers all business-like, acting as if he doesn't know me. Fine by me. I give him a credit card number, and he gives me the bullshit line that the $250 includes a massage and lasts an hour. Swell.
Okay, I set that up, and I spent a minute thinking about the semi-hot time I had with Dickie. Most of it was okay, and there was some dominance involved. Maybe his dominance, psychologically, is enhanced because of him being so much smaller than me, plus his small penis. Ya know, acting submissive to that. Yeah, it's kind of crazy.
And, where's Bruce? Looking back to the boardwalk, then checking my cell phone, I'm wondering where Bruce is. It's twenty of four, and he's always here by now. Hmm, yeah, and why is it so crucial that Bruce ever fall in love with me? Plus, am I really a person who habitually falls in love, as I've been accused of doing by some? Do I catch love as if it is a virus of some sort? Do I need to be loved as a self-esteem thing? And why am I asking myself these questions when I know I don't have the answer to any of them?
Love hurts so good; sometimes it don't feel like it should. Huh? Grinning to myself, I turn around again and this time see Bruce renting a beach chair. He's also carrying a bag from McDonald's, so I'm up out of my chair and hurrying to help him move everything. He looks up with a smile on his face, holding out the McDonald's bag, saying, "I thought you might like an afternoon snack." Taking the bag, I open it and see two Big Macs and a bag of fries plus a plastic cup of Coke that's tightly lidded.
I go, "Awesome, thanks, Bruce," and we head for my beach chair as he tells me, "I thought of you while waiting on two young gay lads during the lunch hour. They were my size, except they were cute with a capital 'C.'" I go, "You're cute, Bruce. Whaddaya talking about?" He mutters, "You're the only person who has ever told me that." I go, "Um, were they pussy boys? The two cute guys at lunch?" He snickers, "They were about fourteen, but obviously gay. I'm only messin' with you."
We sit down, and I pass him a Big Mac, saying, "It doesn't matter anyway because I'm only interested in you, boyfriend." He mutters, "I know," and we eat the burgers sharing the Coke and fries. Finished our tasty snack, Bruce relaxes sitting back, his feet stretched out in front of him, saying, "Man, I know I'm beating a dead horse here, but I can hardly believe how good I feel, and I can thank you for that. Damn, this is a life of less stress than at any point in my 'effing life. I'm not taking it for granted either."
Nice to hear. I say, "You probably won't believe me, but I could say the same thing. You make me happy, Zach, and I can't recall being all that happy before meeting you." He mumbles, "You're right; I don't believe you." I'm leaving it at that, but I told him the truth. I want to get over constantly beating myself up for making so many wrong choices over the years. My infatuation with Ronny seems so misguided to me now, and I can't explain why it didn't seem misguided when Ronny was alive. I've been a mess for a long time, but I feel as if I'm on the right road now, but a year from now will I look back and feel I made more wrong choices? That's the question? How do we, any of us, know?
Sighing, I decide to go with my gut feeling and be happy. I'm not faking being happiest when I'm with Bruce, and I'm not faking loving Cowboy and Lee like brothers either, so I'm not going to worry about it. Glancing at Bruce, I see his eyes are closed, and he looks, his facial expression looks comfortable and relaxed. It didn't use to look that way, not until a week or so ago. As I've realized before, I'll never be able to put myself in Bruce's place the same way he can't put himself in mine, so we both need to deal with the here and now; it's as simply as that. And, every indication is the here and now is working pretty fucking well.
Later, Bruce wants to do the mile swim, so we do. I can see him struggling after maybe a quarter mile, so I'm like, "Let's float awhile before doing the half-mile back." He nods, gasping for air as he catches his breath, then says, "A half-mile is a long way." Nodding, I go, "Uh-huh, but you're getting there." He doesn't know what a half-mile is, and why would he? Very few people can swim a quarter-mile, never mind a half-mile or mile. It's hard!
When he looks rested, I go, "Ready?" He nods, and I keep a slow pace, swimming back. Coming out of the water at the lifeguard stand that I use as my marker, I put my arm across his shoulders as we walk up the beach, telling him, "There's maybe only one person out of all these people you see on the beach who could do the swim we just did." He gives me a grin, "Really?" I nod, "Yep, really. Be proud of yourself." He goes, "I thought of myself as athletic as a teenager, but never put in the work to be on a team or anything like that." I can see he has a natural athletic God-given body, so I believe him. He's slim, but like Dickie, he has a sculpted body, although Bruce is four inches or so taller than Dickie. I think Bruce is perfect.
We stay on the beach until six-thirty, then stop on the way home for Chinese take-out for dinner... again. At the apartment, I put the unique Chinese take-out containers in a warm oven, and we have a shot of Jim Beam with a can of Bud chaser, then take the beers to the balcony for a smoke. Lighting two cigarettes, I pass one to Bruce, who smiles and says, "You like doing things for me, doncha?" I go, "How can you tell?" and grin at him, adding, "You're my leader-boyfriend, so, yeah, I get off doing shit for you." He says, "Thank you, but you're way too good for me." I hug his waist, murmuring, "Stop putting yourself down. I love you."
Holy shit, he looks away, rubbing his eyes, sounding choked up, saying, "I wish I believed in God so I could pray my thanks for you." I mutter, "Ditto for me," and he leans against me, wistfully murmuring, "I do wish I knew how to thank you properly, Zach. I really do." I go, "You've thanked me plenty, Bruce. Over thanked me actually because everything I try to do for you is for me too. I don't want to lose you, so I have a selfish motivation for trying to please you." He looks at me, "It's working like a motherfucker, boyfriend. You please the shit out of me." We chuckle, both glad that Bruce got us off the maudlin road to awkwardness.
We finished our beers and cigarettes; then have another shot and beer, as Bruce says, "Are you serious about wanting me to give you a haircut, a pussy boy haircut? I mean, there's no need for it on my account. Personally, I'm never getting that haircut again." He's cleaning up after dinner, throwing the containers in the trash, then pulling out the full trash bag, adding, "I'll dump this in the dipsy dumpster and be right back."
I'm like, "Okay, but I do want the haircut. It reminds me of being your trainee and, anyway, it's kind of intimate having you as my barber." He goes, "Whatever..." and takes the trash bag out. Yeah, I like Bruce fucking with my hair... it is an intimate boyfriend thing to do. And, I couldn't give a shit less about having short hair after four years in the Seals. I like it. Yeah, but Bruce has sure changed his tune from a few weeks ago when he bought the barber clipper insisting I get the haircut of the pussy boys. I didn't care then, and I don't care now, but it's fascinating how different Bruce's attitude has become since getting that waiter's job and having money he earns from working there in his pocket, paying his way.
While he dumps the trash, I get out the barber equipment and take off my shirt. I should go online and buy a barber's cape, or maybe Lee's father has an old one he'd let us have. I'm putting in a new tall kitchen bag in the trash can as Bruce comes in, saying, "Jeez, have you ever seen our next-door neighbor?" Shrugging, I go, "No, I haven't seen anyone who lives in this building. I assumed it was mostly empty and will fill up when the college semester starts up." He says, "Yeah, this kid looked like a college student. A big husky handsome-looking dude. Very friendly too. His name is Karl Martin." A husky handsome-looking fellow? I feel a stab of jealousy and mumble, "Is that your type?" He grins, "You're a big handsome-looking fellow, so yeah, I guess it is. Good to know I have a type. I didn't know I did."
That sounds promising, so I'll leave it at that. Pulling a kitchen chair to the edge of the kitchen, away from the counter, I plug in the barber clippers and sit in the chain, mumbling, "A pussy boy haircut, please." He laughs as he rubs my bare shoulder, then says, "You are growing on me leaps and bounds. You are one likable motherfucker, ain'tcha?" I mutter, "I'm glad you think so." He goes, "Yep, I think so," Then, "Sit up, don't slouch, you're an ex-Navy Seal after all." I go, "Yes, sir," and sit up at an exaggerated attention position. He snickers and goes, "I could lead you around on a leash if I wanted to, but I must get thoughts such as that one out of my mind now that I'm a normal law-abiding citizen." I mutter, "There ya go."
He puts an attachment on the clippers, "This is a quarter-inch guide for the top, and I'll use an eight-inch one for the sides and back, okay?" I shrug, relaxing a little from my absurd attention position, mumbling, "I don't know. That sounds okay to me, though." I hear the sound of buzzing clippers, then Bruce stands behind me and moves the clippers from my forehead back to the crown of my head. I feel half-inch hair clippings drifts down my back.
It only takes him five minutes to do the entire haircut, which is disappointing. He's too fast. He turns off the clippers, asking, "How often do you expect me to do this?" I answer with a question, "Don't you like doing it?" He says, "Actually, it's kind of fun, so I don't mind. How often, though?" Getting up and rubbing my hands briskly over my head getting lots of random clipping to fly out, I'm like, "Lee's dad gives the boys haircuts every other day, it seems. It's actually every ten days or two weeks. Something like that." Bruce mumbles, "Fine. You tell me when," and he uses a little brush on the clipper blades. He does things like that... neatness things.
Looking in the mirror, I say, "Next time, maybe not this short." He laughs and rubs my head, mumbling, "Good idea." Fuck, I don't care. He puts the barber stuff away and asks, "What do you think about how I'd look with a ponytail." I must have an incredulous expression because he laughs, mumbling, "I'm messin' with you again," and he hugs me, adding, "I really, really like you, Zach McMann. Sometimes I feel as though you need taking care of, though." I'm like, "I do, so take fucking care of me."
Wow, all his joking around lately! It always catches me unaware because it's so new for him to do that. After all those years of him taking care of himself, he's become a natural take-charge-type guy, and it shows at times as bossiness. I don't think he even realizes it, like right now when he says, "Get us a couple of beers, Zach, and we'll have a cigarette on the balcony." See, a little bossy, but that's okay.
Bringing the beers and my cigarettes to the balcony, joining Bruce, who's already out there, I hand him a beer and ask, "Do you positively need to work this weekend?" He nods, "Yeah, Anne's in a bind. She couldn't hire the replacement for the girl she fired. No one was interested in working the last three weeks of the summer, and the other waiter and waitress go back to school after Labor Day." I make a face, mumbling, "That sucks." He gives the back of my neck a squeeze which I interpret as an affectionate squeeze. He goes, "After October, you'll have me twenty-four-seven, and then you'll probably be wishing I was still working the waiter's job."
I go, "Ha! No way, I'm going to find us a business we can work together." He uses the hand at the back of my neck to pull my head over, then kissed me on the lips, murmuring, "No one has ever made me feel wanted, feel special like you do, Zach," and he kisses me on the lips again. This time for a few seconds leaving me speechless... with a hardon in my pants. I'm just staring at him, so he justles my head a little, saying, "What's wrong? Aren't boyfriends allowed to kiss when they feel like it?" I nod, "Uh-huh, they do that, I think, yeah."
Taking his hand away, he pops the snap-top opener on the beer, saying, "I thought so," and with a grin, he takes a long swallow of beer. I haven't opened my can yet, saying, "You took me by surprise, that's why I was staring, um, in awe. I loved those two kisses," then I pop open my beer and drink some. He rubs my back, saying, "You better get used to it because I'm seriously into this boyfriend bullshit now, and this time I actually mean that." I go, "Good," and drink some more beer to keep from saying something embarrassing.
We finish this beer, and I get us two more as Bruce is in a more talkative mood than I've seen before. He's telling funny things that happened at the cafe again, and, as he did the last time, he's self-deprecating telling stuff on himself that was embarrassing at the time but funny after the fact. He has a humorously way of telling things, and we laugh and have an excellent time.
Then, by nine o'clock, we've done our bathroom stuff and we're in bed right on time. I'm anxiously looking forward to having sex with Bruce, although I'm not especially horny. To me, it's lovers' sex when we do it. His arms go around my neck and we get into a sexy three-minute make-out which is entirely out of the ordinary. Bruce takes his mouth away, murmuring, "Now, give my cock and balls a good sucking." I can hardly catch my breath, muttering, "Yes, of course, Bruce."
Pushing the cover down, I get between his legs, look up at him and see him grinning and nodding his head encouragingly. Then, here's the best part, his dick is already firm, meaning he got sexually aroused during our short make-out. Fascinating development!
Holding his firm dick against his belly, I lick and suck on his balls as his dick gets harder and harder under my fingers. Meanwhile, my heart pounds fast, and my dick gets hard. It's a hard boner pointing up and tight against my belly. Licking under his scrotum gets Bruce squirming on the bed, lifting his hip, and grunting, "Ah, ah! Umm..." I'm getting overly excited and need to stop everything until I get my breathing under control. I was gasping and gulping but force myself to calm the fuck down. The unexpected make-out and then seeing Bruce aroused by it has me a little rattled. Things are moving along fantastically faster than I could have hoped for.
One more steady deep breath, and I've controlled my emotions enough to proceed. Pulling his boner away from his body, I lick it from his balls up to the head of his long hard boner, all seven inches of it, then put the head in my mouth, close my eyes and suck on it. Immediately a long drool of precum slides out, and Bruce gently but steadily is pushing at my head, groaning, "Ah, umm, ah, that's good, stop, that was perfect."
Reluctantly letting go of his engorged penis, I slide up next to Bruce, who murmurs, "Get on your side, Zach," and he sucks in a breath, chuckles, and says, "Whoa, I'm losing my composure here." He meant for me to get on my side facing away from him, which I do with great anticipation. His right arm comes over my side, his hand pressed against my stomach. Then, he moves the wet head of his boner across my butt cheek until it is poking my asshole, then, "Ahh!" he humps his cock inside me, the swollen head sliding tightly against, then past my prostate gland. A shiver of pleasure momentarily overwhelms the pain from the abruptly opening of my anus, then the pain gains control again.
The pain has my attention for a bit, and, consequently, my dick loses some of its intensity, but I embrace the pain as Bruce slides the side of his face against mine, murmuring, "Sorry it hurt you." That's another first, as he's never given a thought before about the pain his slam/bam entries cause me. I grunt, "No, no, it feels good..." He murmurs, "I'd like to believe you, but..." and he slowly pushes his big boy dick, all seven inches of it, up inside my rectum.
As he does that, I hold my breath during the three seconds it takes, and then, fully impaled now, we don't move as the hurt fades into oblivion, and my anus settles down. I go, "Ahhh..." at the stirrings of pleasure that begin to creep into the picture. Those stirring grow stronger as Bruce moves only his hips pulling back his hard boner. It slides backward, every inch sliding tightly against my prostate, making me gasp, "Ooh, umm," as my cock gets roaringly hard again.
He exhales, and I feel his warm moist breath on my cheek, smelling like minty toothpaste. Right away, he pushes his excellent hard penis back inside me, and my shoulders shudder as pleasure is king again, and I moan, "Ooh, Bruce... feels good." Another steady, unrushed withdrawal and insertion as a wave of pleasure gives me a series of shivers while he tightens his arm over my side, holding me tightly against his chest. I feel his heart beating against my back as he starts long, fast thrusting. And, again, I'm off on a magic carpet ride with sexual pleasure in waves, seemingly sensitizing every nerve ending in my body.
It never leaves my mind that it's Bruce providing me this intense pleasure as his thrusting gets faster and faster, both of us soon aware our climaxes will be taking over our worlds. Fast hard thrusting at maximum speed with him slapping against my buttocks with each thrust, "Slap, slap, slap." Ah, yes, the music of males fucking.
Soon, Bruce is grunting, "Umpt!" with each hump of his hard cock way up inside me as I float with him moaning, "Umm, umm, umm..." I've had three orgasms today and can, therefore, hold off for five, six, seven minutes, and maybe longer, but Bruce can't. With a desperate-sounding, "Ooh!" he slams against me, squeezing me against him so hard I can't catch my breath as he blows his load of cum inside my bowels. I felt it!
I can picture in my mind the quivering piss-slit at the head of his cock spurting out a long stream of semen as Bruce holds his breath, his body stiff as a wooden statue, then a gasp from him as his body relaxes, then it's my body becoming rigid. My eyes open wide, I grunt. "Ahh!" hump my hips and blow cum out onto the sheets squealing my goofy squeal, "Eeeeiii." My whole body shuddering as Bruce holds me tight against him.
We don't move for five seconds; then Bruce relaxes his arm that's holding me. He exhales and says, "I blew my load before you this time, Zach. Wow, now about that...?" On the surface, the apparent reason for that is I've blown three loads before this one, and he knows I'm having afternoon sex as well as I do, but neither of us mentions that. I murmur, "It proves that your plan is working, huh?"
Instead of letting go of me, he pulls me with him as he lies over onto his back, then wraps his other arm around me. Hugging me, he goes, "Something is working, that's for sure. Damn, that was, um, really sexy and nice. I liked that, boyfriend." He sounds shocked, pleasantly shocked, but pleased as well. I'm not sure how to respond, so I only murmur, "It felt fantastic, Bruce, really felt fantastic to me."
He says, "Slide down a little." We rustle around until he goes, "There, that's good." Yeah, it is because we're in our normal before-sleeping position, except tonight he has both arms around me. Because he's only maybe two inches shorter than me, it's comfortable resting the side of my face on his shoulder, whereas with shorter pussy boys I've slept with or napped with, it's awkward.
Inhaling his scent, I murmur, "I love you, Bruce." He tightens his arms around me for a second, then says, "I know you do, but you don't want me to lie that I'm in love with you, do you?" I mutter, "You can if you want." He chuckles, then goes, "You're winning me over. If I'm capable of loving anyone, um, well, we'll see, won't we?" The feel of his body is so perfect to me. I mutter, "Yes, we'll see," then, I ask, "Aren't you going to take your unnecessary second shower?" He laughs, "Yeah, I was just about to, but I like what we're doing right now too much to stop."
Oh boy, this is super-good. I wait a few seconds, then mumble, "Me too, but your cum is drooling out of me, and my cum is on the sheets right in back of me." He asks, "Do you care?" I go, "Haha, you know I don't care, but I'm thinking about you." He snickers, mumbling, "Fuck it. You'll get up with me at five tomorrow morning and shower with me. Now, go to sleep." I snuggle in a little more, mumble, "Yes, Bruce," and fall asleep with a smile on my face.
As usual, we separate during the night, so Bruce reaches over to me at five o'clock in the morning to shake my shoulder and wake me. He says, "C'mon, let's take that shower." Oh, fuck! It seemed like a good idea last night, but this morning... not so much. I mutter, "I'm lying in my crusty dried cum from last night." He snickers, "You should have cleaned it up." I go, "Hey, you said..." and he goes, "I know, I was joking... get up."
We're naked, of course, and when I get out of bed, Bruce, from habit, grips the back of my neck as we're walking into the bathroom. Haha, that made my dick wake up. We shower together, washing ourselves instead of each other. While doing that, Bruce is much cheerier than me. I'm used to getting an extra half-hours sleep, but he's used to this early routine. His good mood, however, is more good news for me. Last night was easily the most intimate night we've had together and, frankly, that surprised me. I mean, he's only been free of the pussy boy stranglehold for seven or eight weeks. Still, he has fantastic recuperative abilities making great strides in assimilating himself into this different, more-or-less usual way of life.
Later, in the car drinking our take-out coffees, he's chatty during the twenty-minute drive to the boardwalk. Mostly, he's talking about how Anne, the cafe owner, is thinking about selling the business and how maybe we could buy it and keep it open year-round. He goes, "It's only a block and a half from the big group of casino hotels, and if we advertise it properly as an alternative to the high-cost breakfasts in the hotels, we could have a thriving business. Same for lunch, especially if we can get a liquor license. Then, why not keep it open for dinner too, ya know?"
I'm mumbling, "Uh-huh, hmm, yeah, I see what you mean," but I'm not crazy about this idea at all. I don't want to work in a restaurant! I was thinking of an online business with Bruce and me working together at maybe a partner's desk. Something like that where we'd make our own hours. Some kind of business that requires a lot of travel to interesting foreign places. We'd travel first class and stay at five-star hotels. For now, I'll let Bruce's cafe idea die a slow death as I'm assuming, in time, he'll talk himself out of it without me needing to drop a wet blanket on his idea.
At the ramp, I say, "We'll give a lot of thought to your restaurant idea these last five and a half weeks that Anne's keeping the cafe open." He says, "But you think it's a possibility, right?" I nod, "Sure. it'd be cool." He grins, "It would be, thanks," and he leans over to give me what's become an every-morning kiss goodbye, adding, "I'll see you at three-thirty, Zach." I nod, "That's my favorite part of the day." He snickers, "Oh, sure... see ya."
Watching him jogging up the ramp and turn the corner, I smile, feeling good about how well he's handling himself as a young gay man in this new life of more or less normalcy. I don't want to do anything to fuck that up, so I'm going to do the same things today that I did yesterday. I'll start by driving to the hotel Dickie's staying at.
Last night with Bruce was just about perfect. It was notable that Bruce seems to have turned a corner in his capacity to participate in a relationship, our relationship. I think that goes hand in hand with the success he's experiencing in his new life. A new life for him after years of existing in the survival of the fittest life on the mean streets of prostitution and the low self-image that entails.
I'm not horny now, but sex is fun, plus today's sex with Dickie will ensure that I don't get horny later. When Bruce comes around and we start having a morning go at it, plus our bedtime sex, I'll be set me up for all day. Until then, I'll supplement our bedtime sex with some paid pussy boy sex. The pussy boy sex is not nearly as potent as sex with Bruce and therefore requires two doses of dominant paid sex to equal even one dose of boyfriend/lover's sex with Bruce.
When I knock on the door of the room I rented, Dickie opens it looking as if he's still asleep. He nods his head, muttering, "Hi, c'mon, get in here." Walking into the room, I go, "Good morning! Did you get a good night's sleep?" He got a haircut yesterday, although it's not as short as mine. Dickie mumbles, "No, I didn't get a great night's sleep yet. It's ten after 'effing six in the morning. Give me a hundred dollars, and you can sleep with me a couple of hours."
Hmm, yesterday it was nip and tuck sensing submissiveness with Dickie, which I'm paying for while not getting much of it. I'm like, "No, I'm not paying for you to get two more hours of sleep." I could go for a couple of hours of sleep myself, but I'm not a big enough sucker to pay a hundred dollars so Dickie can get two more hours of sleep in the 'effing hotel room I paid for. He slept naked, which I approve of, and I would like to sleep with him, but not pay a hundred dollars.
Dickie scratches his balls, which are standard size even though his penis isn't, and mumbles, "I got a text yesterday that you set up this date with my main man, but you didn't wait a couple of hours as I told you to." Shrugging, I go, 'What's the dif?" Shaking his head, he goes, "Get undressed. I have a surprise for you." Kicking off my sandals, then pulling my T-shirt over my head, I go, "We can sleep a couple of hours, but we'll do it before our escort date starts."
As I drop my shorts and underpants, he gets a paddle out of the satchel he has his change of clothes in. He yawns, then says, "I went to the trouble of borrowing this paddle because when you mentioned it yesterday, there was something in the way you talked about paddling that told me you liked being paddled." Shaking my head, I go, "Wrong! I just heard about it from a random pussy boy a couple of weeks ago. Look, we're getting off on the wrong foot this morning. Let's get in bed and sleep for a couple of hours, then start fresh. Whaddaya say?"
He says, "Nope. I'm in charge, and we start now. The paddling will cost you fifty bucks and then a hundred for sleeping with me. Let me have the hundred and fifty, I'll paddle you, and we'll get to bed all paid up through the nap. After that, we'll talk again, and you can arrange for more." Goddammit, he wasn't very dominant yesterday, not until the very end anyway, and now he's acting dominant, and I'm bulking at it. That's kind of dumb.
He's standing there, the paddle resting on his shoulder as he goes, "Or, you can try getting your money back from Richard, and we'll forget about the date." Well, I'm not doing that, so I make a face, then get a hundred and fifty dollars from my cargo shorts and hold it out to him. He says, "Bring it over to me." Oh, I get a submissive twinge in my nuts. Well, okay then, good. This is what I'm paying for.
Walking the for steps to Dickie, I hand him the money, mumbling, "Sorry, I, um, ah..." and pretending I don't know how this works, asking, "Well, what do I do now?" He tosses the money on the bureau, then says, "You bend over, hands on your knees, and push your ass out." I do that, and he taps my ass with the paddle, mumbling, "I said to push your ass out, not up." I do that, and he goes, "Don't fucking move."
Same as with Derick, I hear, "Swoosh" as he swings the smooth wooden paddle, then, "WHACK!" it connects with my buttocks, and I go, "Oooh!" He gives me four hard paddles, then says, "Stay," and that one word after being paddled puts me into a deep submissive frame of mind, my buttocks quivering, feeling red hot, and stinging.
Dickie saunters around in front of me and says, "Huh, we both got our pussy boy haircut yesterday, but you're not a pussy boy, are you? I think in your heart and soul you wish you could be, but you couldn't hack it." Dragging the paddle along my spine, he walks back to his position and "Swoosh" "Whack!" then he says, "You're done, you can get in bed." Reaching back to rub my buttocks, I mumble, "Yes, Dickie," and scramble, almost tripping over my own feet to get in bed and under the covers, my ass feeling raw, still stinging like a motherfucker.
Dickie takes his time closing the curtains, blocking out daylight, then gets in bed, holds out his arm, and I slide right over to lie the back of my neck on his arm. He pulls my head over, saying, "I don't want to hear a word out of you unless I tell you to talk." We wrestle around a little until he's comfortable and stays, "Stay still." It's awkward because he's so much smaller than me, but I like the feel of his body and finally relax, then feel really good. My ass still stings, but Dickie did an excellent dominant job this morning and earned his money. I feel properly submissive to him as I snuggle in just a little bit more, my leg against his shorter one, my forehead against his chin. He smells good too.
When I think about it, I admire the moxie of pussy boys like Dickie, small of stature, and in Dickie's case with a small penis, and yet he can pull something like this off. Of course, he couldn't pull it off unless his client wanted him to, which super 'S' types like me want, but it is still interesting to witness him doing it first hand.
That's my last thought before falling asleep. Sure, I got almost eight hours sleep with Bruce last night, but there's something about getting up at five o'clock in the morning that makes me think I need more rest. Whatever, I sleep until eight-thirty and wake up seeing Dickie's still deep asleep. He probably was up late watching TV and running up the room service charges. Umm, his body feels good, though, and I squirm against him a little, getting my hundred dollars worth.
It'd be great if Bruce and I could lie together in bed until we felt like getting up instead of the five in the morning horseshit. Morning sex, ahh yeah, that will be fabulous with Bruce. Well, it'll be pretty damn good with Dickie too, but in an entirely different way. Gee, he does have a nice little body. I'm looking at his chest, thinking he must do some weight lifting, then moving my head so I can look at his face and see his sexy pouty lips. Right now I've decided I'm paying for a make-out. He did that, the make out, hot and sexy yesterday. It's so fucking strange I'm even here with him. I mean, he was outside that piece of shit pussy boy club in Brooklyn, then fucking me in that stinky van, and now we're in bed together in Atlantic City. Weird world...
Dickie's eyes open slowly, then he sort of jerks when he sees me. Only for a second, though, before saying. "Let's talk business. What are you up for? And, um, the paddling is mandatory. I had to go through some trouble borrowing the paddle." Putting my arm across his chest, not moving away from him, I mumble, "I kind of want it all, Dickie. The make-out, sucking you off, then a dominant fucking." He goes, "And the fifty dollars paddling before and after." I go, "But, um, I already paid for the paddling." He snorts, "Don't try nickel and diming me. That was before sleeping with me. And, you still get the after sleep paddling when we get out of bed, but you still need to pay for the new date's before and after paddling."
Oh, jeez, that got my submissiveness reactivating, and I go, "Oh, yes, of course, Dickie. Sorry." He says, "Order breakfast for us, and then I'll paddle you, and we can get the making-out part done while we're waiting for breakfast." I'm like, "Okay, but what should I order for breakfast?" He's pushing me away from him, muttering, "I want pancakes, scrambled eggs, ham, a sweet roll, orange juice, and coffee."
Getting out of bed, I call room service and order what he said, then just coffee for me. Dickie's got some excellent dominant vibes going for him this morning, and that's what I'm concentrating on, so I'm not hungry. I haven't been in the mood to be this submissive in quite a while, and it's kind of exciting to revisit it to this degree.
I look over at Dickie when he says, "Get in position for your paddling." Wow, it's like an electric shock just ran through me as another submissive vibration resonated in me. Quickly, I bend over, grabbing my knees, and push out my ass so he has a level target to hit with the paddle. Out of bed now, he mutters, "Stay," and he goes into the bathroom. I'm quivering with anticipation but grinning to myself because this is cool, hot, and submissively sexy. I'm in the mood for this sub/dom experience, as I said, and obviously Dickie's entirely up for it as well.
I hear him taking a piss, then washing his hands... that's good. He comes back into the bedroom, saying, "I should have thought to ask if you wanted some golden shower play. I mean, before I took that piss. Do you?" Holy shit, I'm really into my submissive role, gulping, then mumbling, "I'm up for whatever you want to do." He swings the paddle twice, then says, "We'll add the cost up when we're finished with this sleeping date."
He gives me four paddles, "Swoosh," "WHACK!" four times, then he leans the paddle against the bed, muttering, "Stay like that." Tears ran down my face but not from crying. I've experienced much worse pain than that, but it still made me sweat and my eyes watered getting salty perspiration in them. Anyway, the paddling did its job of getting me into a perfect, deep, submissive frame of mind. So much so, I wouldn't think of moving my hand to wipe away the leaking tears.
Dickie pulls on his three-inch-oddly-big-headed penis, saying, "Okay, we'll plan our new escort date now that the sleeping with your escort is completed. Um, a new round of paddling before and after cost you fifty bucks, the two-minute make-out is fifty, then I'll do a quick urine play of some sort for you which I'll only charge fifty for, then fifty for sucking my cock, and a hundred for a hard dominant fuck on your ass. Is that about it?" I can hardly find my voice to say, "Yes, Dickie." He goes, "It's pretty much like yesterday, meaning the total is three hundred. You can stand now and get me my money."
I quickly do that, and he puts the money on the bureau with the first hundred and fifty. He says, "I changed my mind. We'll have breakfast before we start. You've just been paddled, and another round is unfair to you." Nodding at him, he goes, "Are you feeling submissive? I mean, I'm doing my best here." I say, "Yes, Dickie. It's working this morning." He mumbles, "Good, I thought so," and he wraps his hand around my stiff dick, stroking it twice, murmuring, "That paddling gave you a boner." I didn't realize I had a boner until this second.
Letting go of my boner, he grins, "I won't charge you for those couple of boner-strokes. Anyway, I was off my game during the early stuff yesterday. I wanted to make it up to you today by being extremely dominant." I don't feel like talking, so I nod, and he says, "Come with me." I go follow him to the bedside table where he pulls some tissues from a box of tissues and wipes my tears, murmuring, "You're a pleasure to service, so I almost don't feel I need to mention this, but I will anyway. Um, don't forget a nice tip when we're done. I get to keep all of the tips I receive." "Yes, Dickie."
Done wiping my face, he says, "Okay, then. Um, I need to check in with my main man now. Richard gets to work early, so I know he's there. Turn around," I don't even give a thought to ask why; I just do what I'm told. He goes, "Uh-huh, there are still two welts on your right butt cheek that haven't gone down yet, so lie on your stomach on the bed while I take care of my daily call to Richard."
Lying on the bed, my ass still burning, I think back to when Bruce paddled me as his recruit, and there's not much to compare with how Derick or Dickie do the paddling. Sure, it hurts temporarily when Derick or Dickie paddle my ass, but when Bruce did it, he did it two or three times as hard, and that was not sexy at all. These pussy boys realize they're paddling to get clients like me submissive as that's what we're paying for... a sub/dom sexual experience. And they keep any contempt for pathetic like us out of their eyes. I imagine they, like most people, including me, can't understand why anyone would want to feel submissive on purpose. Not in a sexual way, but many people feel submissive to someone in a higher position than themselves, and, while they don't like it, they need to be that way for their job or for some other reason, such as living under a dictatorship with no human rights.
Dickie talks on the phone for maybe five minutes, then says to me, "Last night it was forty-five minutes before room service showed up, so I changed my mind again. Let's get the two minutes make-out done; then, after breakfast, you'll get your first paddling for our second session. After that, I'm not sure, but I'll probably get the golden shower out of the way too."
Hmm, I like his confident attitude this morning, and the way he definitively says everything, knowing I'll do whatever he decides. That's the way, within reason, of course, it should work in sub/dom situations. So, knowing my role, I immediately get off the bed, ready to do what I'm told.
He says, "The difference in our sizes makes it harder for me to do a proper make-out with you, and I'd be within my rights to add a surcharge of ten percent, but I won't because you're a cooperative 'S' type client. Some aren't if you can believe that. I mean, they defeat the whole 'effing point when they start complaining and not doing what they're told." I'm nodding, still not talking, just enjoying this dreamy submissive world without responsibility other than doing what I'm told. He asks, "How's your ass? Can you sit?" I reach back and feel both butt cheeks, mumbling, "Yes, Dickie."
He has me sit in the arm-less desk chair; then he sits on my lap facing me and grins, saying, "I feel like a little kid sitting like this." He may feel that way, but, once he starts, he doesn't make out like a little kid. I can't remember anyone making out as hot and sexy as Dickie. His arms around my neck, he almost convinces me he's hot for me. He has a perfect size, very pink tongue, perfect firmness, and it's very active. Soon he needs to shimmy his ass back a little on my lap because I quickly get a hard boner sticking up between us. His make-out leaves me gasping and grabbing my boner as he gets off my lap, saying, "Don't touch yourself."
My hand comes off my boner, "Put your shorts on so you can answer the door when room service gets here." As I grab my cargo shorts, there's a knock on the door. Dickie mutters, "Oh, this is much faster service than I got last night." He's still naked, so he goes into the bathroom as I open the door. An older waiter rolls in a cart, saying, "Your breakfast, sir." I sign for it leaving my usual absurdly large tip, which he doesn't see because he's too polite to look. It'll be a pleasant surprise for him when he's outside the room.
Dickie tells me to pull the armchair over as he sits on the desk chair, then goes, "Didn't you order any breakfast for yourself?" Shaking my head, I say, "I'm not hungry." Shrugging, he digs in as I sip lukewarm coffee. Hmm, maybe I tipped the guy too much.
The breakfast is still hot, though, and I know this because Dickie feeds me pancakes and scrambled eggs every third mouthful he takes for himself. It's sexy sharing the same fork, and I soon have maple syrup running down my chin and another boner. Dickie is a friendly dominant partner. He takes good care of his clients, or maybe he simply likes me. All I know is that he's taking good care of me. I feel good, I feel submissive, and I'm excited for what's coming next. And, yep, today I'm most definitely getting my money's worth.
I'm glad I mentioned the paddling to Dickie. Derick set me on the right path with his mandatory paddling because that gets me off in a submissive frame of mind immediately, and Dickie's picked it up from there. Christ, I sprung a boner the last time Dickie paddled my ass, and, as I said, the pain isn't anything like Bruce's paddling. The pain from Dickie's paddling doesn't last long... maybe ten minutes, and then it's forgotten. What isn't forgotten is the floating submissive sense the paddling put me in. It's an excellent stepping-off point for Dickie's nice easy form of dominance.
Done with breakfast, I push the cart out to the hall. Dickie's brushing his teeth, and I go into the bathroom to piss out some of the two cups of coffee I drank. He rinses his mouth out, then says, "After you wash up, brush your teeth," and he holds out his toothbrush. He's the second or third pussy boy who insists I share their toothbrush, or mine, which is something I wouldn't think of doing normally. In my current frame of mind, however, I don't think of not doing it.
Finished with that, I get paddled and slip right back into a deep dreamy submission to Dickie, who's very relaxed and comfortable, taking his time doing everything. He reads texts on his phone as I wait on my knees, rubbing my paddled ass, ready and eager to suck him off. Finally, after texting back to a few people, he walks over, his tiny penis bobbing with each step as the oversized head seems to get the skinny thing moving.
Standing in front of me, he says, "Pick it up and put it in your mouth." When I do that, he pees in my mouth for about five seconds, me swallowing three times. He goes, "Ahh, I was holding that in for you. Later, if you want, I can pee on you in the bathtub, but it's up to you. I've had clients that all I did was drink iced tea and pee on them. Crazy!"
I've enough sense that I'm not doing that! Instead, I lick and suck his cock and balls until we both have hard boners, then he grips my ears like last time, but this time he humps his hips fucking my mouth, his cock sliding back and forth on my tongue, my lips-covered teeth clamping on his short penis shaft until cum first shoots out from my hard boner in a long stream between his legs. Then he blows a large load of his cum in my mouth, and, again, I need to swallow three times, clearing it all out.
He grunted and groaned the whole time and went, "Oooh, fuck, yeah," when he climaxed. He goes, "Stay," and gets tissues to wipe first his dick, then, using the same tissue he wipes cum off my chin and at the edge of my lips. We put on shorts, then drink nine-dollar cans of beer from the convenience bar, smoking cigarettes on the balcony as he rubs my back, talking soothingly about me being his favorite client ever. It sounded a little be too rote, as if he said it to all his clients, but it kept me in my submissive frame of mind.
I'm sort of in a daze and losing some time because the next thing I know, Dickie is fucking me fast and hard. The hard sloped ring-type thing at the bottom of his penis's head is causing havoc with my prostate, wave after wave of pleasure soaring from it as I'm going, "Um, um, um, um... Dickie, oh, oh oh..." Then cum comes roaring out my straight-out boner to make a little 'Splat' sound dropping on the hardwood floor near the door. It felt like it came roaring out, but it was just a plop of watery cum.
After the hardest paddling yet, Dickie wants me to hurry to get dressed, telling me, "Rent this room another day and arrange another escort date for tomorrow." He's getting dressed too, adding, "I'm hurrying us because the chambermaid is due any minute now."
Then, I find myself in the hall outside the door, alone. I'm dizzy with submissiveness, smiling, my feet barely touching the floor as I walk to the elevator. What an excellent escort date! Dickie's the very best! Oh, man, that was perfection for a sub/dom pussy boy date. I can't think of a better one. At the front desk, I rent the room for two more days, Saturday and Sunday, because Bruce works both days. Oh, God, I feel good walking out into a day that's clouding over. Dammit, not today! I want to sit on the beach in the sun and relive this date with Dickie.
In my car, my buttock still tender, I do what I'm told and call Richard to reserve Dickie for tomorrow. Richard handles it very professionally, saying, "I'm happy your escort pleased you. Would you like me to use the same credit card number?" I say, "Yes, please." He goes, "Thank you for your business. You're all set for tomorrow, sir."
Cloudy or not, I go to the rental tent and rent a chair, asking the old codger, "Where's Markie?" He goes, "He'll be back tomorrow." Which didn't answer my question, but I'm still feeling too docile to press the point. Going to my spot on the beach, I sit on my paddled buttocks and marvel at how well the date with Dickie went today. Horny? Ha, get serious, I'm not horny! feel marvelous.
The sun peeks out behind a lot of clouds, and the seagulls do their squawking, the ocean does its rolling waves that run out of steam and retreat back, endlessly. Experiencing the beach, I'm feeling so relaxed I feel loose and carefree waiting for Bruce. Yes, Bruce, and I think how different making love with him is compared to that sub/dom sex I paid for the last few hours with pussy boy Dickie. It was fun being submissive and rolling with whatever Dickie had us doing, had me doing, but it was merely sex to get off on, sex for sex's sake. With Bruce, it's all of that, but much more too... it's beautiful, it's intimate. It's so much better because we want to do something sexual together, we want to share the sensations we're giving each other. Hell, most times the pussy boys pull out their dicks without even climaxing.
Holy shit, my submissive trance disappears and blows out to sea. I'm not saying it wasn't a worthwhile couple of hours with Dickie, it's that I tend to blow it all out of proportion to what it was. It was hired sex with a pussy boy who knows how to satisfy an 'S' type client. Huh, just like that my head is clear and I see everything differently. I'm not saying it wasn't good sexy fun because it was. And, yeah, the paddling puts it over the top, but Bruce doesn't need to do any of that. Dickie does, but it's an artificial tricked-up way to get my cookies off. So, I need to keep things in proportion.
Real sex with Bruce is what I spend my time on the beach thinking about, not reliving the sub/dom artificial sex with Dickie as I thought I'd be doing. It's thrilling to think about how Bruce will surprise me tonight in bed. How will he top last night? If it is just as good tonight as it was last night, I'll be very happy with that.
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com
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