The Bottom Apartment by Short Guy
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The Bottom Apartment Part 1
I had just graduated from college and gotten a job in the clerk's office in a county courthouse in northern New Jersey. The pay was enough to get an apartment by myself. No roommates. I was pumped. I'd never lived by myself before. And deep in the closet as I was, I had never been able to invite a guy to my place. Roommates killed that idea. Getting my own place meant no worries about anyone judging me. No one listening in as a handsome hunk fucked me. No fear of being outed by some guy who thought my liking guys made me a despicable faggot. I was going to be able to bring a guy home to my place and, well, do whatever we wanted. And the apartment was in a town just over the George Washington Bridge from New York City. A short bus ride would get me to Times Square and its seedy theatres and porn shops that filled the area in the 1970s. There were places I could meet other guys who wanted to have sex with guys. I might finally get to be with another guy.
I found an ad for what looked like a great apartment. The location was great, only a ten minute drive from the court house. My Dad had given me his old car. It was on its last legs but still worked. The apartment was in a nice working class neighborhood around the corner from a gas station. I was making just enough to be able to afford the place without having to worry about paying for food and other necessities. The building was a three-decker. The landlord lived in the second floor apartment and rented out the first and third floors. Pretty unusual. Most landlords would want the ground floor and rent the two on top.
I had called the number in the ad and talked to the landlord, Aleksy Angelis. He had a deep resonant voice which made me shiver imagining what he looked like. He spoke with an accent (sounded Greek) and his grammar was off. Not a native English speaker. His deep voice made me imagine him. His first name must be a variant of Alexander which made me think of Alexander the Great which made me think about books I had read about Alexander the Great having a passionate relationship with a young man named Patroclus which made me imagine this powerful king and this young man... Well, you can guess what it made me imagine. The king kissing the boy. The general fucking the stud soldier. The... Well, we made an appointment to meet at the apartment the next day.
I rang the doorbell to the second floor where Mr. Angelis lived so he could show me the ground floor apartment that was advertised for rent. He opened the door and I froze. Alexander, my ass. He fucking looked like the Greek god Zeus. He was about 50 but had a full head of flowing silky white hair that draped just over his collar and fell over his forehead combed to the right so that it just touched his eye. It was like those anime or manga characters you see today with guys that have long hair in front that covers half the forehead and overhangs one of their eyes. And the length of his hair and the way it flowed made him look like one of those hunky guys on the cover of romance novels you see in the grocery store. And damn those eyes. Greenish-blue, clear, beautiful. He was short enough that I could look into his eyes easily without having to look up too much, the way I did with most guys. I'm five feet two inches (yeah I know--fucking short). But he must have been only about four inches taller than me. He was old enough to be my dad but he was so fucking handsome, I gasped when I saw him. Smooth move huh?
As I said, the first things I noticed were his beautiful, manly face, his piercing beautiful eyes, and that flowing white hair. But then my eyes moved down and holy shit, he was wearing a muscle shirt that showed off his powerful naked shoulder muscles, his broad pecs with the nipples pressing against the shirt, and his bulging biceps even when his arms were at rest. His shirt was both fitted and tucked in so I could see his incredible V-shape. He had broad shoulders and a small waist. He was a fucking body-builder. Older guys have a lot more trouble keeping the weight off and putting on muscle but this guy was like a professional--didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on him. I was standing in front of Zeus.
I couldn't help it. My mouth dropped open as I stared at his shoulders, his biceps, and that prominent thick chest. My cock twitched. I was in fucking trouble, I knew it. He was the guy I would be thinking about when I jerked off from here on. The thought of him just upstairs, fucking his wife, maybe in the bedroom right above mine...... Shit I felt like asking to use the john so I could shoot a load right then.
"You here for bottom apartment," he said. There was that deep voice with the Greek accent.
"Yes," I croaked. "Mr. Angelis?"
"Yes," he said. And I swear to God he took a deep breath and puffed up his chest. It was impressive before but with that move, it was as if his pecs had gotten twice as big. It was a fucking body builder move. I couldn't help it; I stared at his pecs. They were beautiful. They were powerful. They were all man.
Fuck it, I was staring at him, my mouth open. I looked up into his eyes and saw him regarding me.
And then it happened.
He smiled as if I had passed a test. Holy shit, did he do that on purpose to see if I was the kind of guy whose mouth would drop open as those pecs muscled up right in front of me? Was he trying to see if I was fixated on his body? Did he really mean to find out if that move would cause me to stare hungrily at his powerful pecs? Was he testing to see if I was floored by how muscular he was? Was he trying to figure out if I was a faggot?
I was nervous, you see. Not just because I was in the closet, but because getting outed could be a fucking disaster. Back in those days, it was not easy. Not that it's easy now with that asshole Trump about to move into the White House with his Cabinet full of homophobes. I feared that if people knew about me, I'd lose all my friends. It was 1977 and I was deep deep deep in the closet. My parents loved me and I had been so messed up when I was 14 that I told them I got aroused by men. They promptly sent me to a psychiatrist to cure me of my homosexuality. I saw the doc all four years of high school and during vacations in college and now that I was back from college my loving parents had set up new appointments with him for me. The therapy had been a total flop. I did realize that I was attracted to some women as well as men but that put me only like a 5 on the Kinsey scale. When I walked down the street, when I saw movies or TV, it was the guys I focused on. Their faces, their pecs, their biceps, their hunky muscular butts, and their mysterious bulging packages. Damn did I fixate on their crotches. I had to be careful walking down the street so no one would catch me staring at their magic pouches.
Could Mr. Angelis tell that I was attracted to him? Did that pose with the chest mean that he wanted me to be attracted to him? Was it a fucking dare? An invitation?
He was smiling. That was good. Probably he's not going to beat me up. He put out his hand. Fucking A, that smile made his handsome face even more appealing. In a daze, I found myself shaking his hand.
Oh God almost immediately he was caressing my fingers with his thumb, holding my hand gently, as he gazed into my eyes. It was not the way a man shook someone's hand. It was not the way you said hello to a prospective tenant. It was not a rough grip showing me how strong he was or what a macho guy he was. His hands were muscular as hell but his grip was gentle. He was gripping me; I could not have removed my hand if I had wanted to. But his touch was tender. It was fucking seductive. My heart started racing. I got a warm feeling in my chest. And, truth be told, that warm feeling spread to my crotch.
"You're Guy, right?" he asked, holding my hand and stroking my fingers with his thumb--gently, lovingly, ... lovingly? What the fuck? I tried to keep it together. My psychiatrist had told me how to handle situations like this. I was not supposed to be staring at handsome men like this, especially not if it was someone I might be living under... Living under? Fuck me, I pictured him on top of me moving close to kiss me, his beautiful dark eyes approaching, his lips inches from my own, his pecs about to touch mine... Fuck it, stop it, you idiot, I told myself. He's gonna find you out, man. He can't be into me. He's married for God's sake. And look at him... he's a fucking Greek God. He can't be a homosexual like me...
Of course, all these thoughts conflicted with my desire to have a room of my own so I could finally find a guy to fuck me. That doctor had done his best to mess with my head but my fundamental sexual desires were chiseled in stone. But at this moment I thought I had to suppress my instinct to stare, to give myself away to this hunk of a man. He couldn't be into me, not someone as manly as that. I have to put my thoughts aside, save them for my alone time with my throbbing cock.
And yet, there was his thumb moving, always moving, caressing my hand like ... like what? like I was his son? or like I was his wife? I couldn't reconcile my attraction to him, my certainty that he couldn't be into guys, and the tender touch of his moving thumb. It was confusing as hell. But one thing was certain. My cock was now rock hard.
As these confusing thoughts raced through me and I realized I should respond.
"Uh, yeah, I'm Guy. I'm here to look at the apartment."
"Bottom apartment?" Mr. Angelis asked.
"Yeah, the ground floor apartment you advertised," I said.
"Yes," he said, "bottom apartment. You want to be on bottom?"
Holy mother of God, what is he talking about? Was he asking...? No, he couldn't... There was no way... It must be innocent... He couldn't mean it. Of course he didn't mean it. He's asking about the bottom apartment not whether I want to bottom for him. But then, as his thumb caressed my right hand, he put his left hand on my right shoulder and squeezed it gently. He held it there like I was his son.
He said nothing, waiting for me to respond. He was squeezing my shoulder again, massaging it. This if fucking inappropriate, I thought. This is... Oh fuck it felt good. Fuck fuck fuck.
But what was I supposed to say? What did he fucking mean? What did wanting to be on the bottom mean?
"I'm not sure I understand," I stuttered.
"I learn English only few years. Sometimes I say words wrong. I am on top," he said, releasing my shoulder and pointing up. "You..." he said, moving his hand down and touching my chest, "are on bottom."
First of all, the touch of his finger on my chest nearly made me faint. He touched me and... he kept his finger there, in contact with my chest, which was moving rapidly from my heavy breathing. His hand now relaxed and his palm rested gently on my chest. Shit shit shit it felt good. It felt so good.
Second, I couldn't fucking tell if he was having trouble with English or messing with me. Did he mean that he had the second floor apartment and he was offering me the ground floor apartment? Or was it something else? Could it mean? Could he be telling me... He was touching me. He was feeling my chest. He was... Holy shit, could you imagine if he wanted ... His fingers were moving on my chest, two of them surrounding my nipple, caressing, now circling my nipple, now gently stroking it.
I started to hyperventilate. What the fuck was happening? I was thinking about his gentle teasing of my nipple. I was thinking about him on top of me. I was thinking about his muscular torso encasing my smaller one.
Fuck it all to hell--damn my doctor--the truth was that I would fucking love to be on the bottom. I was so totally turned on by older masculine men, much more so that guys my age. Maybe it was a father/son thing or just attraction to what I thought was masculinity which older men exuded and younger guys were still trying to achieve. This guy was not only attractive. He was exactly the kind of man that turned me on. And his fingers were caressing my erect nipple as if there was nothing unusual about that.
I was at total war with myself. I was so fucking attracted to this guy it made my head spin. But I was also trying so fucking hard to repress my attraction to men and never never never to let a stranger know that I was into him. But if I lived here, if I lived "on the bottom," would this hunk of a daddy corrupt me? Would he put me on the bottom for real? Would I get to find out what it's like to spread my legs and ...?
Oh fuck it, let's see the fucking apartment and let me spend some more time near this Greek God so I can look at him and feel what's it like to be close to him. At least I can get a host of images to jack off to.
"OK, yes, I am on the bottom," I said, not exactly sure what I was saying or what he would think it would mean.
"Good boy," he said. "Good good good. Bottom is good."
I had no idea what he thought I had just agreed to. I had no idea what he meant by "bottom is good" but his smile and his gentle touch on my chest was making my cock throb.
"Come. I show," he said. And suddenly he released my hand and put his right arm around my shoulder. Oh God oh God oh God oh God, it felt so fucking good. I looked up at him like he was the sun in December. I looked at him like he was my father and I loved him. He was embracing me as if I were his son or his nephew. Or was it more? Was it really more? He physically moved me into the apartment and walked me from room to room. My pants were uncomfortable because my dick was trying to poke its way through the fucking zipper. My heart was racing as I felt the warmth of his arm around me and his hand on my shoulder.
As we walked around he looked at me ever so often. But his arm never left me. It's like I was his best friend. It was surprisingly intimate. It was inappropriate. Maybe it was a cultural thing, a Greek thing. But it felt fucking great. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. Having a grown man embracing me like this, acting as if it were normal, as if every landlord took his tenant under his wing, under his powerful, muscular arm, under... Fuck my mind was racing again. And there was the issue of my rock hard cock. My pants were sticking out. If he looked down, there would be no question his touch, his handsome face, his godlike body had given me a raging hard on. He walked me around. He led me. I let him take me where he wanted. We saw the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, and then we entered the bedroom.
Holy shit, there was a bed there. The apartment was empty. There was no furniture at all in the rest of the apartment. But in this one room there was one piece of furniture. A fucking bed. It was all I could do to stop myself from imagining him throwing me down on the bed and fucking my virgin boy ass.
"You like?" he said, looking me in the eyes.
"You mean do I like the apartment?" I asked.
"Yes but..." Mr. Angelis said, nodding to the bed.
What?
"Yes you like apartment? You also like bed? Bottom apartment comes with bed," he said.
The bed had a carved wooden headboard. There were figures. They looked like Greek gods. They were Greek gods. There was Zeus and Hermes and Poseidon. Damnation. Wooden sculptures of naked guys with muscular bodies just like the landlord. Only one goddess I could see--probably Athena. I stared at the naked muscular men, complete with penises.
"You like," he said. "I can tell."
Fucking shit did he just see me ogling the naked muscles on those guys? Noticing their dangling cocks?
"You're saying the apartment comes with the bed?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"Yes," he answered. "Was bed of my parents. They had in house where I born. Was wedding present from my father of my father. Was bed my parents used every night of their lives."
He looked at me, his arm still around me, his hand on my shoulder. He squeezed my shoulder and moved his face close to mine. He gazed into my eyes, massaging my shoulder.
"My mother die two years ago, my father last year. No more. But bed remains and I want to keep. No room in my place so keep here."
His face was a foot from my own. His arm was around my shoulder. The bed of his parents was in the room. He was looking deep into my eyes.
"Every night," he said quietly. "My parents use bed every night. Since day of marriage. First night of marriage here. First time in bed together. Where father make mother a woman. You understand?"
My heart was about to jump out of my chest. He was thinking about the first time his father made love with his mother. It was a tender memory. But I was a fucking pervert and all I could think about was the godlike father of this godlike guy fucking his mother, penetrating her cunt, and fucking her blind as she screamed with pleasure.
"When I look at this bed, I see my parents as if still here. I see them hug. I see them kiss. I remember when I was child." He looked at me intently. "I see father on top."
Time stopped.
Holy fuck. He did mean it. He fucking did mean it.
He was remembering seeing his father fucking his mother. Right in this fucking bed. And he wanted me to know that is what the bed reminded him of. His father on top. Where did that put me? Fucking hell, it put me on the bottom...
And holy hell if all this didn't make my cock start to leak precum. This bed was where this Greek god's father impregnated his mother. It was where his dad slid his thick cock up inside his mom slippery wet pussy. It's where he fucked her. It's where his father's sperm shot into his mother. It's where he was conceived.
It was enough to make me faint. And not only that, this handsome stud of a daddy was gazing into my eyes as he saw me absorb this information, as he saw me imagine his father "on top," his cock moving in and out of his mother's cunt.
Mr. Angelis's eyes were beautiful, radiant, deep set, with full, lush eyelashes. His eyebrows were thick. His hair was full, no hint of balding. It was soft, it fell over his forehead, it hung over his collar. The shock of seeing his soft, flowing hair spilling over his manly forehead, his eyes fixed on mine. It was like looking at Zeus. He was a fucking God. God almighty I almost lost it.
"So," he said quietly, "you like apartment?"
He squeezed my shoulder as he asked me his question. He was looking into my eyes as if worried about how I would respond. As if the invitation were for something more...
Mr. Angelis saw me thinking. He saw me hesitating. He moved his face closer to mine. His lips were six inches away. Fucking A, he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
"Hard to find good boys," he said. "You a good boy. I can tell. You a good good boy. I will be good lord for you."
Oh God, did he just say that? I know he has trouble with English but did he say he wants to be my landlord or my... lord? God, can you imagine, him being the lord of the castle and I'm ... what am I? His servant? His vassal? His tenant? Didn't medieval lords have rights to fuck the daughters of their tenants? And didn't Greek gods fuck boys as well as girls?
He had moved in front of me, putting both his hands on my shoulders. He was caressing them. And then, oh God oh God oh God, he lifted his hands to my face. He was cradling my face the way you would a child you love. His lips were inches from mine. He was tenderly stroking my cheeks. He was now stroking the hair on my head. He was fucking seducing me.
He was talking some more, quietly, practically whispering.
"I live just upstairs. Here whenever you need me. Me on top, you on bottom. You take my father's bed. Good bed. Good place for you. I take care of you. I take good care. You bottom, I on top. When my father die, I take his place. I become man of family. Head man. Man on top. You take bed son. You take bottom apartment. You take and I on top."
My cock was leaking precum so freely that I felt my pants getting wet. I was fucking about to cum just from his touching my face. And telling me... telling me... what? Could he mean...? Could it mean that I was not only taking the apartment but taking a lover? And not just any lover--a grown man who was going to take my virginity. A married man who was going to sneak down at night while his wife was asleep. A man who had a key. A man who would be my landlord. A man who had my life in his hands. A man who was going to fuck my tight, muscular, virgin ass.
I hesitated. The angel on one shoulder spoke in the voice of my psychiatrist. "Say no! Run away! This is the worst thing you could do right now! He's just upstairs. He's going to fuck you. He's going to fuck you every night! You move here and you become a homosexual. Say no! no! no! no!"
I listened to the angel but what I heard was not what the angel wanted me to here. I heard: "he's going to fuck you every night!" And then it was not the angel saying that but the devil repeating. "He's going to fuck you every night! How fucking amazing is that? How could you even think about saying no? Are you fucking crazy? This stud is a fucking god! He is exactly, but exactly, the kind of guy who turns you on. And he fucking wants you! You! A skinny, short... You know what you are. LIsten buddy, you've been jerking off your whole fucking life thinking about this moment. Your cock is ready to jump out of your pants. You want him like you've never wanted anything or anyone before. He's Zeus come to life and he wants to be on top! Say yes you idiot! Say yes! yes! yes! yes!"
Mr. Angelis saw me hesitating. "Please take," he said, caressing my face and looking into my eyes. His lips were now almost touching mine. "Good bottom apartment. You good on bottom. I can tell. You good bottom. I like you. I be your lord, you be my boy."
And then, oh God oh God oh God oh God, his lips touched mine and we fucking kissed. We fucking kissed! I gave in. I gave up. The devil won. I put my arms around him and returned the kiss. His tongue entered my mouth. It was strong, it was wet, warm, sensual, powerful. He was fucking my mouth with his tongue. I was sucking his tongue, feeling it go in and out of my mouth, penetrating me, claiming me. His hand was on my ass. His crotch was pressed against my own.
It was too much. It was too fucking much.
As I sucked his tongue and felt his hard package against my crotch and his hand squeezing my boy butt, I shot my load right then and there. I shot and shot and shot and shot and shot and shot. It was as if the world had exploded, as if all my dreams had come true. It was the hottest, best orgasm of my young life.
And when it was over, he took his tongue out of my mouth and kissed me on my eyes, one at a time. I heard him chuckling as he kissed me. He had felt it. He had felt me spasming against him. He had felt my cock shoot my boy load just from feeling his tongue fucking my mouth. He knew. He knew that I would fucking do anything to be with him. He knew I would take the bottom apartment. He knew I would lay back in his parents' bed. He knew that I would look up as his mother did, that I would look into his eyes, that I would kiss him, that I would suck on his powerful tongue, and that his cock would enter me the way his father's cock had entered his mother. He knew I would take the bottom apartment. He knew I would be his bottom.
He looked down at my wet pants. He stepped back and passed his hand over his chest, caressing his own pecs.
"I'm glad you like. Good boy. Good bottom. Now we talk about rent."
The bottom apartment part 2
Holy fuck, Mr. Angelis had just kissed me. No, he had seduced me very slowly, and then he had fucked my mouth. And I had hungrily sucked on his tongue. His muscular, wet, soft and hard at the same time manly tongue. Fuck me but I couldn't help it. I had shot a load so huge it was leaking out of my pants which were obviously wet. And he saw. He saw my wet pants. He felt my spasms as he held me in his arms. He felt me shooting as I sucked his daddy tongue. He heard me moaning. And he said it was good. He said I was good.
The whole thing was incredible. Both that it happened and that he seemed to like...me? I had never considered myself that good looking or sexy. It's true my parents said I was good looking and my best friend in high school and my psychiatrist and... They all had told me but I didn't believe them. I guess some guys just fucking know they're hot. Me, I didn't know. Years later -- and many men later -- I now accept that I'm handsome. I can see in my early pictures that what I thought was a skinny body was actually toned and muscular. What I thought made me an ordinary guy made others turn their heads and look at me as I walked down the street. I had been so busy trying not to let others guys know I was staring at their packages that I had not see all the guys lusting after me, drooling at the sight of my boy butt. I now realize my ass was amazing, high, pert, firm, round, taut, inviting... It stuck out so far that any red-blooded man would drop anything to shove his cock up between my bubble butt cheeks. And my dark brown hair falling over my collar and my own forehead was just as sexy as the white shock of hair of Mr. Angelis. I was a stud but I didn't know it.
But at that moment I found it hard to accept that Mr. Angelis was attracted to me. Maybe it was that he was so fucking horny all the time that he needed someplace to shove his fat cock. And maybe he realized, when I gaped at his puffed up muscular pecs that I was just the kind of guy who could be persuaded to assume the position... on my knees, his cock in front of my face, his handsome face looking down at me and telling me to ...
Jesus my mind was wandering.
What had I just agreed to? Had I agreed to take the apartment? Or had I agreed to be a "good bottom for Mr. Angelis and take his thick Greek cock up my virgin ass? Had I agreed to be fucked on the bed where he was conceived? Had I agreed that he would be my lord and I would be his boy? Did he really mean to fuck me on the bed where his father fucked his mother, to take his father's place, on top, where he belonged?
And had I just blown eight fucking years of therapy? I had been doing a fair job of repressing my homosexual desires. Sure ,I fantasized about guys when I jerked off. Sure my heart raced when I saw a thick package on a cute dude. But I had refrained from doing anything about it. I had averted my gaze. I had tried to think about girls. I had a lot of girl friends. I loved girls. They were cool. They were easy to talk to. I had thought I was at least moved on the Kinsey scale from a 5 to at least a 4. But fuck me if this Greek god of a man had not seduced me as thoroughly as if he really were the god Zeus.
Thoughts were racing through my head. I felt guilty. I felt elated. I felt so attracted to Mr. Angelis that I couldn't see straight.
We were in the kitchen and the lease was on the counter. Mr. Angelis was explaining the rent and that it was a year long lease. No subletting without his permission. I could have a roommate move in but only if he approved.
"You understand?" he said. "Visitors fine but if roommate moves in I say yes or no. Can be boy or girl. But I must test roommate to see if good for bottom."
Goddam it, was he saying that if I got a boyfriend or a girlfriend he was actually going to fuck them? That it was really was like the fabled droit de seigneur when the lord would deflower the bride on her wedding night before the husband could fuck her?
Or was it just the English language thing... Did he mean to say he had a right to see whether someone was suitable as a new tenant. Or did he mean...?
Well I was not imagining having a permanent roommate at this point, anyway. I was so looking forward to living by myself. Of course seeing Mr. Angelis fucking another guy would be fucking hot... It would... Oh hell, let me sign the damn contract already... but he was talking again.
"Here says I can come into apartment to inspect. You understand? I have key and I can come in?"
I nodded yes. I knew landlords could do that and the lease said so.
"You agree here?" he pointed to the lease. I read it and it was a form lease that said he had to give me 24 hours notice before entering the apartment unless it was an emergency. But holy hell he had crossed that part out! The words that were left said he could enter. Any time. Any time at all. With no warning.
"You crossed this part out," I said, wondering if it meant what I thought it meant.
"Yes, I come in when I need to. Too hard to tell before when I need to come. I come to apartment when I need to come. I have key. I come."
My head was spinning. Did he say "come" or "cum"? Was he saying he would enter my apartment whenever he wanted to fuck me? Day or night? He was fucking married. Would he be coming in whenever his wife was out? When she was asleep? Would I be waking up in the middle of the night to find his cock embedded in my ass? He needed to come in without notice in case of an emergency. Was being so horned up he needed to fuck my ass in the middle of the night the kind of emergency he was talking about?
The thought of all this was both frightening and incredibly arousing.
"I come when emergency. When I need to see you. When I need to enter bottom apartment. When I need my good boy."
He did mean it. He did mean it. He fucking meant it.
"Bottom apartment, good rent, good to be close to landlord, good to be close to my boy. I take good care. I take care of you," he said raising his hand to caress my face. "You young. You need man to look out for you. I be your man."
Holy mother of God, my cock was getting hard again.
I coughed.
"I'm just not sure I want you to come in any time at all. Suppose I have a friend visiting? Can you give me some notice before you come in? Like a phone call?" I asked.
"Need to come to bottom apartment in emergency. No notice." Mr. Angelis looked at me with those beautiful eyes. "I come when I need to come."
He looked down at my wet crotch.
"I think we already start good. You like apartment. You like Aleksy," he said pointing to himself. And fuck me, then he put his arms up, flexed his biceps like he wanted to show me how big they were... until they popped so large I thought they would burst like balloons,.He breathed in and put his shoulders back, as if he was just stretching, casually, innocently in front of me.
Innocent my ass. He was demonstrating again how fucking sexy he was. He was showing me what a man he was. He was showing me that he really was a Greek god. He was making sure I realized how much I wanted him. He was making the decision for me.
And now he moved toward me, his face a few inches from mine. He put his hands on both of my cheeks, cradled my face and looked into my eyes. I was getting lost in his greenish-blue eyes. I was getting hot again from the gentle feel of his muscular hands on my face. I was fucking starting to get hard again for God's sake.
"You good boy. I good lord. I gentle. I take care. Like my son. My boy."
He kissed my forehead so gently his lips barely touched me. It was the kiss of a father who loves his son. It was the kiss of a very very very good lover.
He whispered. "Sign."
I began to hear my psychiatrist's voice rising in my head telling me to.. telling me... Fuck that shit, I thought. Sign, my landlord had said.
And so I did.
The bottom apartment part 3
I had just signed the lease to the bottom apartment. I signed a check for the first month's rent.
"You need a separate check for the security deposit, right?" I asked. It was my first time getting an apartment on my own and I wasn't sure how things worked in north Jersey.
Mr. Angelis looked at me.
"You give me deposit, I give you deposit."
What the hell? "What do you mean?" I asked. "I don't understand."
"You write check and then I show," he said, and as he did so he caressed my face.
I shivered in response to his touch.
"You good boy. You safe with me. Security two months rent. But for you..." his caress of my face continued. "For my boy, one month only. I trust." And fuck me his kissed my forehead again. I couldn't help it. I moved my face closer to his hand so I could feel his power, his warmth, his tenderness on the very skin of my cheek. He chuckled, apparently at the way the lightest contact with him made me like putty in his hands. He understood the power he had over me. He was showing me. He was teaching me. He saw right through me. He was showing me what I was, what I wanted, what I was willing to do.
Shit, I was rock hard again and ready to cum. I signed the check for the security deposit and handed it to him.
"Good boy. I be like father to you. I take care. Boy call father Daddy in English. in Greek is babas. You call me 'babas' so you know I take care of you. I be your babas while you here."
His face lowered from my forehead where he had been kisising me. His lips were right in front of mine. He breathed through his mouth so I could feel his warm breath on me. It was like feeling the breath of God.
"I be your babas. Yes?"
And his lips touched mine. He kissed me. He fucking kissed me.
Holy fucking hell. "Yes," I said. "My babas."
He waited a moment and then kissed me again. Again--so gently I could barely feel his lips. Then more pressure, more. His tongue on my lips. His tongue entering my mouth. Oh God his tongue in my mouth. Hot wet strong soft. Farther in. Farther in. God his tongue was long. God it was soft. God it was insistent, invading my mouth, taking power over me, moving in and out, in and out. I sucked on his tongue. It was fucking incredible. It was sensuous, sexy, loving, powerful. He was my babas. I was his boy.
He moved away. He looked at me.
"Now we try bed to make sure it good for you. Yes?"
And with that he stood up, took my hand as if I was his young son -- or his boyfriend -- and he led me to the bedroom.
I realized that not only was the bed there but that it was fully loaded with sheets and pillows and blankets and a comforter. And those sculptures of naked Greek gods with muscular torsos and naked penises.
"We try, no?" he said. "See if good bed for you. I sleep no clothes. Better that way. You too. Try. See if good."
And with that he began a slow seductive striptease. He sat down on the bed and undid the laces on his shoes.
"You help?" he said, holding his right foot out in the air. Fuck he wanted me to take off his shoe. I found myself sinking to my knees in front of him. I looked up at him. He was so fucking beautiful, so fucking manly, fatherly, godlike. I slipped off his shoe. He wiggled his toes as if he was stretching.
"Now sock," he said. Holy fuck i got to touch his strong foot and slip his sock off. I couldn't stop myself from holding his foot, touching it, massaging it. It was well-formed, muscular, powerful. He was clearly enjoying my massaging his foot. "Good boy," he said. "Good good son."
His foot was smooth, strong, supple. His toes were well-formed, his bit toe large, round, soft. My face was right in front of his toes as I massaged his foot. His big toe was right there. i couldn't stop... I couldn't... Fuck me I attacked his big toe as if it was a popsicle. I fucking sucked on that big toe like it would save my life.
God oh God. It was so fucking hot being at his feet sucking on that soft, round, supple appendage. His hand caressed my hair as I sucked him.
"Yes, yes, yes. Good boy. Good boy."
I released his toe, stunned at what I had done. He was smiling. He was not pissed. He had liked it. He had fucking liked that I wanted to suck on this big toe. To kneel at his feet.
He put up his other foot and I did the same. I removed his shoe and his sock and I sucked his other toe. I saw stars. I saw his eyes looking down at me as I serviced his foot.
And then as I knelt on the floor before him, he removed his foot, he stood up and before I knew what had happened, he had undone his belt, put his hands under his briefs and shoved down his pants and his briefs at the same time, unleashing his thick cock right in front of my face. He stepped out of his pants and as he did so his semi-hard cock brushed my face. I gasped and looked at it, then up at him. As I did so, he slipped off his muscle shirt.
He was totally naked. His cock was poised at my mouth. His muscular pecs were full and heavy above me. His eyes were piercing. His hand caressed the long hair on my head.
We were supposed to be testing the bed weren't we? We were supposed to...
I couldn't help myself. I fucking couldn't help it. I had waited my whole fucking life for something like this to happen. I had waited long enough.
I opened my mouth as if to speak. But my babas knew me. He could read my mind. He knew what I wanted. He knew what I longed for. He knew why I was on my knees. He knew why I had eagerly assumed the position just because he asked me to. He knew, he knew, he knew, he knew.
Seeing a hot young boy kneeling before him, the boy's pants still wet with his own cum from kissing his new lord, he did what any horny muscle man would do. He moved forward and gently pushed his cock into my mouth.
I saw stars. It was heaven. It was a dream come true. God's cock was in my mouth. His sperm shoot was sliding over my young tongue. His slit was oozing liquid. His penis was throbbing with desire. My penis was throbbing with desire. I looked up at him, at my babas, at my lord, and I sucked his friggin' cock.
It was not the best blow job in the world. It was my first, for godsake. But holy fuck do I still get hard remembering the first feel of that Zeus cock between my lips and on my tongue. The sensation of him rocking back and forth. In and out. In and out. Caressing my hair, my face. Fucking my boy mouth. Insistently. Gently. Lovingly. Getting what he needed. Giving me what I needed.
I sucked him for a long time. He was tenacious and lasted and lasted. He caressed my head and said "my boy my boy" over and over again and I sucked and sucked and sucked and sucked.
And then he pulled out.
"You wait," he said.
I watched as he walked to the kitchen. He took something out of a drawer. It was KY lotion. It was fucking KY lotion. This was it. This was the moment. My landlord was going to take my virginity. Right here. Right now. In the bed where he was conceived. Zeus had returned and it was time to bend over and serve.
He walked back to me, put the lotion on the bed and slowly began to undress me. Each time my bare skin appeared he moved his face toward me and kissed. He kissed my chest when he took off my shirt. He licked my nipples. He sucked on my toes after he removed my shoes and socks. He kissed my inner thighs after he removed my pants. And when he pulled down my briefs, he turned me around and kissed my ass. He fucking kissed my ass. He licked my taut butt cheeks. He pushed me forward onto the bed. I leaned forward and lay my torso on the bed, my chest on the soft comforter, my feet still on the floor, my ass open and naked before my lord. He licked and licked. He got closer to my asshole. He got closer. Closer. Closer. And then...
Oh God oh God oh God oh God. He was licking my asshole. He was licking my asshole. I had never in my fucking life felt anything so good. He licked around it, in it, in it, in it. His tongue penetrated me. His tongue was in me. His powerful tongue was fucking me. His tongue was fucking me. HIs tongue was strong. It was insistent. It was inside. Fucking God in heaven, it felt good. Oh God it felt good.
And then he opened the lube and wiped it around my asshole. He massaged. He circled. He massaged. And slowly I relaxed. I relaxed. I relaxed. And his finger entered my ass. It slipped right in. No pain. No pain. Just a feeling of fullness. It felt right. And he was moving in and out, continuing to massage my asshole. And I relaxed at his touch. I relaxed even though his finger was giving me such a such a rock hard hardon that I thought my dick would burst from the pressure.
He was skilled. He was patient. He was slow. He was gentle. He knew how to make a virgin ready. He opened me up so slowly that there was no pain at all. I know that it is hard to believe. Virgins are tight and pain is par for the course. But Mr. Angelis -- my landlord, my babas -- he knew how to treat a boy. He knew how to make sure I would want him to come again, to come often, to come any time. He wanted to make fucking sure that he would have a boy to fuck whenever he wanted. He wanted to make sure that he could climb into my bed in the middle of the night and fuck my boy hole until he shot his god cum into me. He knew how to make me beg for it, to want it, to fucking beg him to fuck me. He knew what he was doing. He opened me gently. He got me ready. He prepared the table for the feast. He warmed the plate. He was a snowplow opening a path for the passage of solid moving objects.
And when I was ready, when I was comfortable with four fingers in my rectum, Mr. Angelis put lube on his thick cock. He put more lube on my asshole and he entered me. His penis slipped in like it belonged there, like it was at home, like it was where it needed to be. His cock filled me like it was the missing piece of me, like it was the key in the hole that unlocked me. The feeling of his cock in me was magical. It was wondrous. It was a miracle.
He started to fuck me and the miracle increased. There was a God after all. There was a God. This feeling was so wonderful that it was like seeing the face of God. Mr. Angelis fucked me slowly, carefully, tenderly. And as I got completely used to being filled with his throbbing Greek sword, he started fucking me in earnest. He was fucking me and fucking me and fucking me and fucking me.
"My boy. My good boy. My good bottom boy."
Holy fuck was it amazing to have him compliment me, to tell me I was good, to tell me my ass was good, to tell me that it felt as good for him as it did for me. He was a fucking god who had come down to earth. And of all the people, all the women, all the men, all the girls, all the boys, he had chosen me. He had chosen me. He wanted me to be his boy.
I shuddered and breathed heavily as I felt him shoving his thick cock in and out of me.
And then, he removed his cock. I felt bereft. I felt empty. I felt...
He lifted me up and placed me on my back, my head on the pillow.
He pushed my legs back and back and back until they were on my shoulders, my asshole open and ready for his dick. He lowered himself and kissed me on the mouth.
"Pillow was the one my mother used on wedding night. Bed where she lay when my father took her. When father cock entered her for first time. My father on top." He kissed me again. "Now me." And he speared me with his penis, looking into my eyes as he did so. He started fucking again, slowly at first, then faster. His face approached mine. My ankles were on his shoulders. I was bent in two, my shoulders on my chest, my ankles over his shoulders, his muscular Zeus-like pecs pressed on mine, his lips on my own, his cock in my asshole.
"Now me," he said, over and over again. "Now me. Now me. Now me. Now me."
And with each "now me" he shoved his cock into me as deep as it would go.
And then when his fucking reached a new intensity, he said, "You give deposit. I give deposit." And with that declaration, he shot his silky cum deep in my bowels. He shot and shot and shot and shot and shot and shot and shot and shot. I felt the cum hurling out of his penis. I felt it hitting my insides, like a burst of water from a firehose. I felt that power of his forceful thrusts. I felt the impact of his liquid spurts. He filled me with his deposit.
And sometime during these thrusts of Greek semen into me, my own cock had exploded. We had cum at the same time. We had cum at the same time.
When it was over, his thick cock still embedded in me, he kissed my forehead and then, very very gently, my lips.
"You like bed?" he asked, his lips moving on mine.
"Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes." I couldn't stop saying yes. I had just lost my virginity. I had just sucked my first dick. I had just been fucked for the first time. And it was good. I saw what it was to be a homosexual and I saw that it was good. Fuck the psychiatrist. Fuck it all. I was a boy. I was the landlord's boy.
"I like the bed. I like the apartment. And I fucking love you," I said, surprised by my own ferocity.
He kissed me again. He licked my lips. He looked in my eyes, his cock still throbbing in my ass.
"Good boy. Good tenant. Good bottom apartment. Good bottom. I like too. I like too."
And that's how I got my first apartment.
Short Guy Stories
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/driving-instructor
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/play-like-a-man
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/office-hours
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/will-you-be-my-buddy
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/encounters/daddy-issues