Ay: Ekim 2023

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

{Emerson & the Lion}
Part 5

*******************
Now that we can hear that sound
Now that you can hold me down
You can pull me under
You can raze everything to the ground
Everything I can arrange
Every part of me you change
Just hold me together
Tell me you’ll always want me to stay

It’s shaking the sky
And I’m following lightning
I’ll recover if you keep me alive
Don’t leave me behind
can you see me, I’m shining
And it’s you that I’ve been waiting to find…
-“Shine” by Years & Years
*******************

We got up with the sunrise the next morning. Ali had packed two giant rolling suitcases for the both of us, and they waited expectantly by the door. He’d packed a bag for Kadir too with his food, bowls, and the toys I liked to play with him. We took a quick shower and Ali put me in a long-sleeved tight thermal burgundy top and some grey jeans that ended in the elastic band at the ankles that guys are all about these days. He had on a grey long-sleeved t-shirt that clung to his muscles with a low, scoop neck and some burgundy pants. He always had to show off his hard work.

We looked like young father and adopted son in our matching outfits and how he always had a hand on my back or shoulder. In a way it was quite fitting.

Before we left, Ali gave me a box. Inside was a simple leather wallet. It contained my new identification card. It was thick with gold trim. His family crest was in the corner. Below my picture was his picture, a thick smile across his handsome face. My name was printed with his last name attached to the end. Emerson Hamad sounded very confusing. The wallet also had an ATM card for my new bank account back home. It had my American name on it.

He took the wallet back and slipped it into the smallest travel bag along with my cellphone. I didn’t even ask to hold on to either, knowing he would say, “You have no use for them when you’re with me.”

He rolled our suitcases out and loaded them in the back of the SUV and then came back for me and Kadir who was milling around in the yard doing his business. Ali grabbed a few small bags of things and handed me my stuffed lion and a small blanket for the car as he pushed me out the door.

Samir and Caleb were by the car. Caleb held up a pillow with a smile when he saw me carrying the blanket and my stuffed lion. Samir was putting their bags in the back and then went to open the back door for Caleb. He climbed in and Samir closed the door and then went to close the back of the SUV with a button on the remote.

Samir hugged me good morning. Ali loaded me in next to Caleb and Kadir laid down at my feet with his head up on the seat for attention from the two of us.

As we pulled out to the main road, Ali told us we were going to a resort for a few meetings he had. It would be important for us to have the henna tattoos to mark that we were taken and by whom. Younger men who were out roaming alone without the markings were assumed to be open and looking for sex.

It would be dangerous for us to go out alone but even worse if we weren’t marked. A boy who was marked was not allowed to roam freely at the resort without his chaperone or owner. He wouldn’t be touched sexually, but security would be alerted and he would be escorted back to his chaperone who would administer appropriate punishment. This was to protect the marked boys but also allow the free men to engage with each other without worry.

As he and Samir had business to attend to, he wanted to make sure we were comfortable and looked after. Caleb translated all this and then excitedly signed, “That sounds hot!”

“No!! Why would we want to go there? We will have to stay in the room the whole time?” I signed to Caleb who spoke for me.

“Ali says we will have our own private villa with a pool and we only have to stay there while they are in meetings. Otherwise we will be able to enjoy the waterpark. They have a waterpark!” Caleb translated. He was getting way too excited for this. “Ali says he only has a few meetings each day and promises you won’t get bored for long.”

************

The resort was over the mountains and through a border checkpoint. Caleb and I had fallen asleep in the back of the SUV and were woken up by soldiers who made us get out of the vehicle. Ali lifted me out and set me sleepily on my feet as I leaned back against the side of the SUV.

The soldier leaned down and started speaking, but then stopped and looked up at Ali who must have interrupted to tell him I am deaf. The soldier looked at me with suspicion. Ali lifted my shirt up and over my head and I felt his finger swipe across the tattoo with his name on it. When Ali let my shirt fall back down, I caught the soldier eyeing me with more than national security on his mind. He gave me a smile and a wink. It felt super creepy.

He said something over my head and Caleb came around and looked at me.

Caleb signed the soldier’s question. “These men say you and the other light boy, are their personal Kadıköy travesti property. Do you affirm that you are his property and accept his responsibility for you during your time in this country?” I quickly nodded, thinking that was a really strange question. The soldier made me speak and I croaked out a very dry “Yes” and nervously backed into Ali’s waiting arms.

The soldier adjusted his machine gun and ruffled my hair with his hand before nodding for me to get back in the SUV. Ali gave me an apologetic look and a kiss as he buckled me in and then closed the door.

Back on the road, Ali explained that it was illegal for unowned white Europeans and Americans to come through this kingdom since a bitter trade dispute many years ago resulted in abandonment of western relations. The kingdom still made tons of money off of oil and off its large resorts that were nearly free of any “annoying” English speakers. The soldier hated having to use English to verify our situation, but it is their pleasure to see English speakers degrade themselves and be owned by an Arab.

So now we were headed to a resort that didn’t like us, or at least me and Caleb, in a kingdom that didn’t like us. Yeah I definitely wish I’d seen a brochure for this place before heading here on vacation. But I knew we would be safe with Ali.

Caleb and I fell asleep sharing his pillow and my blanket while Kadir stood up to look out the window, wagging his tail happily.

*********************

I woke up with Ali shaking me gently. Caleb had put his head on my chest, Samir lifted him off of me and I sat up, scooted to the edge and was lifted up into Ali’s chest. We were parked in front of a one-story mediterranean style house with white stucco and intricate tiles forming rings around the walls. Ali carried me down the path as I had one arm around his neck and the other hugging Ali-cub, the stuffed lion. Kadir ran around the small grass area stretching his legs and peeing on anything that looked interesting.

A man about six inches taller than Ali with huge muscles came out and went to bring in our suitcases. He was dressed in a small pair of white satin shorts that hung low on his waist. Samir was behind us. He had one hand on Caleb’s shoulder as Caleb hugged his pillow and followed us into the house.

The common area was one large room with a kitchen to the left, a dining table for 6, two large couches, and a huge flat screen tv on the wall. It was decorated in arabian style with large rugs, oversized curtains pulled back to show windows and a sliding glass door at the back. The entryways were that swooped up arch design that ends in a sharp point at the top.

There were two large bedrooms and two smaller ones. Ali carried me to the largest one all the way at the back with corner views of huge mountains behind us. He laid me on the bed and went into the bathroom to the toilet. He left the door open and I saw him whip his dick out and let go of the journey’s build up as the servant came in wheeling our bags. He placed them in the closet and opened them to hang up our clothes. He didn’t look at me at all.

Ali washed up and slipped his shoes off as he jumped on the bed beside me.

“Alone at last,” Ali typed to me on his phone and pulled me into his chest.

I nodded towards the servant in our closet unpacking our things. Ali shrugged and typed, “Trust me, he’s seen the whole spectrum of odd behavior. If he bothers you, I can have him stay out of sight. He is here for guests’ viewing pleasure, maybe more. But I have no need of his physical services. I’ve instructed him not to touch you or Caleb as well. I don’t think Samir would be interested either.” He gave my butt a squeeze and kissed my cheek.

We changed into some workout clothes. I had on a small thin tank top that showed off most of his name on my chest, light running shorts, and nikes as we headed out. Ali slung a bag of clothes for our after workout.

Caleb and Samir were splashing around in the pool. Ali wanted some alone time with me. We walked behind the house and I saw the view. We were on a hillside overlooking about 100 other villas similar to our own. At the base of the hill was a large building and the waterpark. I saw several big slides that looked like fun.

We went out the back gate and down a dirt trail that went behind other villas and wound down the hill. At the base, we got to the big building. Ali pointed to a map on the wall showing restaurants, a nightclub, meeting rooms, movie theater, bowling alley, the gym, and a convenience store. This place had it all.

Inside, it looked like a mall. Everyone was male from the employees to the guests. Ali had told me not to look anyone directly in the eye and always keep to his side with my eyes on him or the floor. He guided me through a long tile walkway and into the fitness center where he checked us in.

We saw all kinds of pairs of guys working out together. There were older guys with older partners, older with younger, young with young. Kurtköy travesti They were mostly Arab, but a few Asian and African as well. I was the only blonde one and it attracted eyes. I kept looking but then quickly darting my eyes to Ali’s shoes. He put his arm around me as he lead me to our machines.

Our area was private and out of sight of the main area. We started on side by side treadmills and did a quick 5 minutes of light running. We got off and he showed me the stretches he wanted me to do. When we finished, he put me back on the treadmill as he started with the weights.

When I was drenched in sweat and looking at him with pleading eyes he finished his last lift and came over to put me through the cool down routine. My machine finally came to a stop and Ali laid a towel down on a yoga mat for me and I collapsed on to it.

Ali laid down next to me on his side and rubbed my tummy. He leaned over to kiss me, and his sweat dripped down my already soaked chest. It felt kind of weird doing stuff there in the open, but no one was walking by.

Sensing my hesitation, he reached for a towel and covered his lap with it. He took my hand and rubbed it down the front of his shorts. I felt him, ready as ever, as he guided my hand and bit softly on my ear.

He slipped my hand inside his waistband and down over his throbbing prize. It was wet and warm from the workout. I leaned into his neck. His cologne mixed with sweat and hit my nose. I don’t know why but there’s something about the way he smells when sweating that drives me to him. I bit and kissed the nape of his neck and he squirmed, rubbing his cock against my hand as I gripped him firmly.

He pushed my head down, under the towel. His shorts were pushed down and I put my lips on the head. Down here, his scent was more powerful. It overwhelmed my nose and my eyes started to water as he pushed into me.

His cock rubbed my tongue to clean off the workout. I tasted a little bit of his piss from earlier. It was water, a bit of coffee which made it bitter and I gagged a little. I’m sure he heard me, but he had pressing business with my mouth and wasn’t letting me up. He pet my hair, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth.

He started sliding it in and out, not too quickly, but deep. His head pushed against my throat, making me “Uhhh!” each time. I had to breathe through my nose which didn’t help as it pressed against his steamy pubes. He had my head and his lap covered with the towel which just held in the smells.

As uncomfortable as it sounds, I was rock hard in my shorts. He couldn’t reach my hole from our position, and I knew better than to touch my dick, so it would have to wait. Right now was about him. He started sliding in and out of me faster as I clamped my lips closed in a tight circle around his shaft. My tongue was working circles around his dick as my throat massaged the tip.

He didn’t last too long, maybe from the excitement of being out in the open. He pushed deep into me when he started to erupt and it filled my mouth and shot down my throat. I swallowed it all, and coughed on his cock as some of it went down the wrong way. He was bucking into me to milk the last of it with his hands clamped onto my head.

He laid back when he finished, pulled me up to his chest. I reached down under the towel and squeezed his cock, pulling it softly. The last little bit of his juice trickled out onto my fingers and I brought them up and sucked them clean.

****************************

We made our way through the locker room with Ali covering my eyes. There must have been a lot to see in there. He guided me into a small private restroom with a shower stall.

He lifted my shirt off and kissed at my nipples, then traced his tongue over my tattoo with his name. He brought my dick back to attention quickly and pulled me into him as I rubbed it against his stomach. He slipped off my shorts and reached behind to turn on the water as he leaned in to kiss me. I pushed up his tank top and he raised his arms, allowing me to slip it up. He’s taller than I am, so he had to help me with the last few inches.

I pushed his shorts down to the floor and his cock, half hard, pounced at me. He reached behind me and cupped my cheeks in his hands, lifting my butt as the rest of me followed. I wrapped my legs around him and my arms around his neck as he backed into the shower, warm water pouring between us.

He backed up against the tile wall of the shower and then set me down on my feet. He turned me around and pulled me back against his chest. His hard cock rubbed down between my cheeks as his hands explored my chest and tummy.

He let one hand slide down and he gripped my cock. It was the first time he had ever held it like that. I leaned back against him and he started to fist it.

It made me want to move my hips, push my cock into his grip, but he pulled me tightly back against him, holding me still. I knew instinctively he wouldn’t want his cub emulating fucking. My pleasure was Pendik travesti to come from him inside me. I felt confused as he jerked me off, but I went still and allowed him to explore me. It was his right.

Unfortunately, I wouldn’t last long. He had his head down over my shoulder, watching his own hand rubbing me off as he kissed and nibbled on my neck. His other hand covered the right side of my chest. He held a nipple between two fingers and started twisting and pinching it roughly. He alternated between the two nipples, working them into little angry puffs.

He started jerking my cock and twisting my nipples harder. I was confused by the mix of pleasure and punishment. Was I supposed to have cum from sucking his cock? I squirmed and whimpered, but felt the cum rising in me. I was close, why was he making it hurt?

The pleasure side of me won the battle and I started shooting thick ropes up my chest, fighting against the shower stream. My cum went up and the water dripped it back down, but some of it stayed. My body twisted and jerked in his tight grip and he gave an especially painful squeeze to my other nipple.

I came down in his arms and relaxed against his chest. He brought his fingers to my lips and I sucked my own cum, cleaning the fingers thoroughly. He traced his other hand around my chest, scooping up the remains of my juice and fed them to me as well.

I turned to face him, looking confusedly into his eyes. “Ow,” I mouthed and he let a little smile break across his lips. He mouthed, “baby,” and gave me a kiss. He rubbed body wash and shampoo all over us and paid extra attention to my hole, cleaning me for later use.

We got cleaned up and headed out in matching shorts and crisp, white tank tops leaving the dirty workout clothes and the bag in the little restroom. My tank top had his name written across the front in black leather applique that matched the script of his name on my chest. Ali signaled a worker who collected our things to be washed and sent to our villa.

********************

We went back to the mall area and and got a table on the patio of a juice bar on the top level. The sun was intense but they had shade and blowing misters. Ali ordered us juices and checked emails on his phone while stroking my hair.

In the corner there was this pretty good looking arab guy, maybe a year or two older than Ali. Beside him was this shorter, fat, older asian man with a hand in the younger guys lap. The arab one had these loose basketball shorts and a tight black tank top. The older guy was rubbing on his package and saying something to him. The arab guy didn’t look especially interested, but he did nothing to stop the older guy. The older guy pulled up the right leg of the basketball shorts and was reaching under there now.

I nudged Ali and pointed at them. He very quickly reached over and pulled my chair beside his so that they were out of view. He shook his head at me and put his arm across my shoulders to pull me into his side before going back to his emails.

The waiter came back with two juices in beautiful blue tinted glasses. He set them in front of us and then set a tray of meats, cheeses, nuts, and fruit in front of us with a small basket of flat breads. It looked awesome, but then he set a small bowl in front of me of salad with a sparse amount of grilled chicken on top. It looked dry and tasteless.

I signed [NO, NOT WANT] and pointed at the bowl. I was feeling like a dog getting the same chow at every meal.

Ali looked confused, but gave a gentle smile and patted my back. He lifted his cell phone and typed out, “It’s good for your tummy. This has the right mix of vegetables so you have energy but don’t feel too full. I had a nutritionist look you over and review your health and blood samples when you were out. He said this mix is the optimal healthy balance for you. You do get variety at breakfast when your body needs a solid meal.”

“But every other meal?” I typed back, “I’m not a dog.”

Ali started to type back, but then set his phone down and jumped out of his chair. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. I felt a strange hand on my head, petting my hair. I turned to see that someone had walked up to my right.

I looked up and saw two large brown eyes staring down at me with a warm smile as though he knew me. I stood up, backed towards Ali, and gave a him a cautious smile. He was maybe a few inches taller than Ali and had lighter skin. His black hair was gelled back in a more grown up look with an expensive pair of gold sunglasses crowning the top. Soft pink lips were framed by a trimmed beard shaved down to his jawline and around his mouth. He was stacked hard with thick muscles and an air of power.

Ali pushed me gently to the side and gave a forced smile and reluctant handshake to the man. He pointed to the chair across the table and the man sat down. Ali took his seat again and pushed me down into the chair between them.

The man had on a tight polo shirt that showed his muscular chest and just enough buttons open to expose a few black chest hairs. He slid forward a bit and leaned back against the chair showing a not too subtle bulge in his tight khaki shorts. It was hidden by the table so Ali couldn’t see it. He gave it a few tugs when he noticed me looking.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

This is the true story of my first bisexual experience. See I am a 30 years old bisexual male and have been that way for about 10 years. I am 5’10” 175 lbs. nice ass and tight bas athletic muscular build and go to the gym 6 times a week.

It started when I was in college when I first got a computer and was exposed to the internet. I began looking at female porn first, then discovered she males and TV’s and I was strangely aroused. I then started to look into gay and bisexual sexual porn and was very aroused. I would jerk off to movies and pictures while sticking any and everything I could find in my ass. I began to experiment with cross dressing and hot erotic phone sex with guys I had met online. I began to dream, want and desire another man’s cock. Don’t get me wrong I love to be with women but I just had to know what it was like to have another man’s cock grow inside my mouth, to feel his full erection, and to taste his sweet cum on the back of my throat.

Many years went by without ever getting the courage to be with a guy I was attracted to or in a situation I felt would be discreet. See I became a police officer in a town of about 70 thousand people and I have to be very discreet… which meant the local gay bars were off limits. So I went about my private life of phone sex, gay porn, tasting my own sperm, buying toys and dressing in heels and lingerie, which I might say I look very good in… until one night while I was at work something great happened.

I was working the midnight shift and was getting pretty tired of it after about 6 months. It was 3:15 am and I received a call reference to a B&E Larceny ( breaking and entering with theft ) in a local apartment complex near the college. At this time of night things start to really slow down and you are fighting boredom, so I was happy to get a call to wake me up.

I arrived at the apartment, gathered my reports and headed to the door where the victim had called from. I rang the bell and was pleased to see an attractive man standing in front of me wearing jeans and a white tight tee shirt. See I like those men that are on the cover of Men’s Health magazines, and this guy fit the bill. He was 39 and at that time I was 26 years old. He was 6′ about 190 lbs. with a killer athletic body, sandy blond hair and green eyes.

I introduced myself as Officer Smith and he said his name was Heath. He invited me into his apartment and I started my report. I could not help but keep checking this guy out while he walked around his apartment showing me what was missing. He had a very nice ass that looked great in a pair of jeans as well as a muscular upper body.

He explained that he was out with friends down at the bars and came home to discover his back sliding glass door standing wide open so he called 911. Heath had his mountain bike and sonly play station stolen but he stated that he did not see anything Göztepe travesti else missing. I called for I.D. to come out to take photos and fingerprints of the apartment.

Heath asked me if I wanted something to drink while we waited. I said sure and asked for coffee. He went into the kitchen and I positioned myself so I could see his sexy body. I thought to myself, this guy is sexy and wished I could see him naked. I knew he was either gay or bisexual because I just got that feeling that all guys are blessed with… I call it Gaydar. I was getting erect in my polyester pants just watching this guy and trust me it is very hard to disguise a hard on in uniform pants.

I was staring at Heath’s ass when he caught me looking… might I add several times. He finished making the coffee and brought me a cup at the table. As he sat down he brushed my leg and said excuse me. With the thoughts I was having I nearly came in my pants at his mere touch.

We made casual conversation for about 10 minutes when Heath asked me where I worked out. I cleared my throat and I told him Gold’s Gym. He complimented me on my physique and stated that he was a fitness trainer at Worlds Gym. I thanked him after an awkward moment of silence, when I.D. arrived. We both stood up from the table and I saw Heath looking at my erection in my pants. I was immediately embarrassed and turned away. I.D. began to take their photographs and check for finger prints while I covered my groin with my notebook. After I.D. was finished I told Heath good night and thanked him for the coffee. I walked out with I.D. got in my patrol car and left.

For the next 30 minutes I was consumed with thoughts of Heath. I asked myself was he flirting with me, did he notice my erection, did he see me looking at his ass, was he checking me out. I was going crazy and my cock was so fucking hard. I was angry with myself thinking about how attracted to this guy I was. Why didn’t I make a move? After dwelling on it for sometime I finally wrote the experience off, telling myself I would jerk off for weeks just thinking about him.

It was about 45 minutes after I had left when I was dispatched back to the Heath’s apartment because he had discovered more items stolen and needed a supplemental report. I was overwhelmed with excitement. I would not blow this chance I told myself, this guy is perfect take a chance.

I arrived in front of the door feeling nervous, anxious and scared but before I could even ring the bell Heath opened the door. I was amazed with what he was wearing. He had a pair of champion shorts on, clearly showing his bulge and a tight gray tank top. He immediately apologized for having me come back out to his place. I told him not to worry because I did not get off till 6am and things were really slow.

I asked him what else he had found that was taken. Heath stated Küçükyalı travesti that he was kind of embarrassed to even report it but they were worth a lot of money. I asked again what it was and reassured him that it was not a big deal. As we walked into the back bedroom I could feel the pre cum in my pants. I was very nervous and could feel my heart pounding in my chest trying to figure out how to make my move. I noticed a nice king size bed and in front of it was a Armoire with a huge TV inside it. Heath said that he was getting ready for bed and was going to watch a movie to relax from the earlier events when he opened up his draw and discovered that all his VHS tapes had be taken.

I could not help but stare at the bulge in his shorts wondering how big he was. I asked how many tapes were taken and he said approximately thirty. I documented the amount while trying not to show my hard on.

Heath said that the only tape that was not taken, thank god, was his favorite which was still in the VCR. As I asked which movie it was but he was already pushing the play button. The first thing I saw were three sexy muscular men going at it. There was a guy in the middle with a cock in his ass and another cock in his mouth. I was so aroused and nervous, my heart was racing and I did not know what to do.

Heath said do you like what you see. I stumbled not being able to say a word still staring at the screen. Heath asked again do you like what you see because I thought you would with you checking out my ass and cock every chance you got. I told him that I had never done this before and his response was what do you want to do? I said have never been with a guy before. Heath said but you want to don’t you and I said yes very much so.

With that Heath walked toward me and grabbed my cock. I wanted to do this the first time I saw you at my door he said. I nearly feel to my knees with excitement. Heath then stepped back and took of his tank top and shorts to reveal a sexy pair of white thong undies with a huge bulge in them. You want this he said grabbing his bulge. I said hell yes I do, I want it in my mouth please. He said it is all yours as he laid back on the bed with his legs hanging off the side. I took my radio off as quickly as possible and laid it on the dresser. I slowly began touching his cock through the thongs. His body was perfect not a hair anywhere but his legs. My mouth found its way to his cock licking him through his undies till the head of his cock poked out the top. I pulled his thongs down to his ankles and picked his cock up with my hand. It was huge and thick I thought to myself, almost 8 inches of clean shaven cut cock. It was finally going to happen… I thought as my mouth slowly took his cock in.

I was in heaven, experiencing every emotion possible. There I was, in uniform on my knees sucking this beautiful guy’s cock Avrupa yakası travesti with the sound of three guys fucking on a porn behind me. I was licking and sucking on Heath’s cock now really enjoying myself while he was moaning like crazy. Heath look down at me and said that I was a natural and I squeezed his balls while bouncing my head up and down on his beautiful cock. I milked his cock with my hands and licked the pre cum off the tip and he just moaned. His cock was perfect and was covered in my saliva.

I had been enjoying his cock for about 15 minutes when I heard my radio call me asking if I was 10-30, which means they were checking to see if I were ok. Without missing a beat, I told Heath to hit the mute button. I grabbed my radio with one had and Heath’s cock still in the other and said 10-4. I put the radio down and began sucking when Heath let out a chuckle and so did I thinking about if dispatch new how ok I really was. I loved this guys cock and it felt so good in my mouth. His cock was so wet with my saliva and the sound my mouth was making working this cock in and out was about to make be cum also.

I could feel Heath’s cock begin to pulsate in my mouth and I knew he was going to cum. I took my mouth off him and was stroking him wildly telling him to cum.. I want you to cum in my mouth… tell me when. With that he screamed I cumming and I sealed my mouth around his cock taking a huge load in the back of my mouth. I gladly swallowed his first shot and let the rest of his cum lay in my mouth. Heath was moaning and screaming wildly while grabbing at his bed sheets. I took my mouth off his cock still filled with a lot of cum. I wanted to savor the taste and feel of his cum in my mouth. He looked at me and only said one word WOW. I smiled and opened my mouth and showed him my prize… then I swallowed and showed him that it was gone.

He asked how was it and I told him better than I had ever hoped. He then told me that he was glad that his apartment was broken into. There I was still on my knees licking Heath’s cock clean not believing that I finally did it, I felt so relieved. Heath asked how long I had been wanting a cock and I told him longer than I was willing to admit. He said that he would be glad to help with anything else I wanted to try. I told him I would love that but it would need to be discreet and he agreed. He said I have just one more question before I suck you off and I said what? Are you a top or bottom… I gladly answered bottom slut. He laughed and said this is going to be fun. With that he opened my fly pulled my cock out and sucked me off and it was an amazing blow job.

While I was walking to the door Heath said don’t bother filing that last report about the VCR tapes. I looked at him and said why? Heath laughed and said because they are not stolen, I hide them in my closet. What do you mean I said. Heath continued to laugh and told me that he spent 45 minutes trying to figure out a way to get me back to his apartment and in my pants. This was the idea I came up with he said.

We both laughed and I left with his number, his sweet taste still in my mouth and a date for another movie on Friday.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

“…And protect us from evil, Lord, whatever form it takes,” Mr. Carpenter said with his head bowed and eyes closed.

Sid looked around the table. His father at one end, brothers and sisters, a few aunts, uncles, and cousins, and Zach, his best friend. They were all bowing their heads and holding their hands as his father prayed over the Thanksgiving dinner.

Sid looked down at Zach’s hand. It was soft and delicate. He had a sudden urge to slide his thumb across Zach’s fingers but ignored it. He glanced up and saw Zach looking at him. He rolled his eyes and they both smiled. Or maybe Zach had been smiling at him when he looked up? He ignored that, too. They were both just waiting for the ending.

Sid bowed his head again before his father finished the prayer so no one at the table would notice. He wasn’t religious like his father was, but he didn’t feel the need to be rude about it. He would go through the motions and his father would be happy and everybody would get along.

Zach wasn’t technically part of the family, but he and Sid had been best friends for as long as either of them could remember. Sid knew Zach’s family was broken but never really asked all the details. He knew Zach lived with his mom in a run-down house a few blocks away. Zach’s father occasionally came into town but Zach did his best to avoid him.

Sid and Zach had gone to the same schools growing up. When they were kids, they would sleep over at each other’s houses almost every week. When they were older, Zach would ride his bike over to Sid’s house and they would hang out. They would play video games and listen to music in Sid’s bedroom. Or, if Sid wanted to get away from his family’s stringent rules, they would head to Zach’s house. Sid’s mother hadn’t liked him going over to Zach’s house at first but she relented over time and now didn’t bother saying anything about it. Since Sid’s family was better off than Zach’s, they spent most of their time at Sid’s house, anyway.

Since he was over so often, the Carpenter’s tended to treat him like family and had invited him to their Thanksgiving meal. Zach’s dad was in town, and his mom wasn’t much of a cook, so it all worked out.

“Amen,” Mr. Carpenter said.

The rest of the family echoed him and then dove into the huge meal they had all helped prepare. The room was full of talking and laughing as the family got caught up with one another. It was the first time they had all gotten together in recent years. Once his older siblings had started getting into college it had become harder to get everyone together but they had all managed to take the time this Thanksgiving.

“Sid! Zach!” one of Sid’s uncles yelled over the din, “You boys got any girlfriends, yet?” He chuckled along with several others but Sid’s father just looked at them silently from across the table.

“No, sir. Not yet,” Sid said with a smile. He wanted a girlfriend. Just as much as the next high school senior. But he couldn’t imagine trying to go out with anyone while he was living at home. His dad was way too uptight.

“Ha, when I was your age, I had a girlfriend in every class! I had to write down their names to remember them!” He laughed and some of the cousins laughed but Sid’s father didn’t look amused.

Sid’s parents were born about fifty years too late. They were alright most of the time, and he loved them, but they were definitely out of touch, especially about girls. Sid’s father was always going on about the clothes women wore on TV as if they should be wearing dresses that went down to their ankles. And that was when the TV wasn’t on some old preacher talking about people going to hell.

“What about you, Zach?”

“Oh, no, not me,” Zach chuckled, looking down at his plate.

“Not even one?” the uncle asked.

Zach chuckled, again. A light, beautiful laugh. “No,” he said, “Well… there was someone, but I don’t think they know it.”

Sid hadn’t realized Zach was into anyone. Zach had never said anything about it even though Sid had often told Zach about the girls he liked or fantasized about. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember any time Zach had talked about any girl like that. Sid thought it was strange, considering how popular Zach was. He had always assumed Zach had a lot more experience with girls than he did. Maybe Zach just didn’t like talking about it? Sid glanced over to find Zach staring back at him. Sid swallowed as he looked at Zach’s deep brown eyes. Their gaze lingered for a second before they both looked away.

Sid’s uncle was laughing again and boasting about his accomplishments from decades ago while Sid kept his head down and hoped no one would notice him for a moment. He had gotten a boner and his stiff cock was pushing against his underwear and dress slacks. He tried not to think about it so that it would go away. He glanced around the table so that it would seem like he was paying attention to the conversation but tried not to make eye contact with anyone. When he looked at his father, though, Ataşehir Travesti Mr. Carpenter was frowning at him grimly.

He was looking back down at his plate of food when Zach nudged him.

“Dude, did you see that trailer for Lord of the Rings?” Zach said.

Sid looked at Zach again. His friend was grinning and Sid felt like he had just been rescued. He glanced around and saw his father talking to one of his aunts and his uncle was doing lame magic tricks for some of the younger cousins.

“Yes! Oh man, just a few more months!” Sid laughed excitedly and Zach joined him.

They slipped into a familiar conversation about video games, action movies, and fantasy books.

*** *** ***

Sid leaned back in the old office chair in his room as the green Xbox menu popped up on the screen and he selected the Music tab. He scrolled through the handful of CDs he had ripped onto it and chose Century Child by Nightwish. He punched the volume on the TV till it was a good level and then turned his chair back around to his desk. He pushed the power button on his old Compaq and dialed into the internet.

“Geez, man, when are you gonna get rid of that thing?” Zach asked him.

“When I can afford a new one,” Sid said, turning to his friend and laughing. “My dad won’t even get cable internet so there’s not much of a point anyway. Teachers shouldn’t be allowed to assign homework the first day after winter break.”

“For real,” Zach agreed.

Zach was laying on Sid’s bed reading a fantasy novel. He was on his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His t-shirt had gotten pulled a little and exposed his hip. The edge of his snug, red briefs showed just above the waistband of his jeans. A lock of his dark hair had fallen across his face but he didn’t seem to care.

That lock of hair annoyed Sid. He didn’t know why. He knew he wouldn’t want his hair falling in front of his eyes all the time, and he assumed Zach would feel the same way, but Zach just laid there with his pretty hair hanging over his pretty face. He supposed it didn’t make much sense to be annoyed at Zach’s hair. He supposed Zach could choose to fix it if he wanted. Still, the more Sid looked at it the more he wanted to get up, walk over, and brush the lock of hair away from Zach’s face.

Zach was lucky. When they were younger Sid had always assumed he had a better life than Zach. He lived in a nicer house and both his parents were around and nobody was drunk or high or anything like that. Now, Sid felt like Zach was the lucky one. Zach was pretty and smart and funny. Sid wished he looked like Zach. Or that he was as cool or as popular as Zach. If he was in Zach’s place he knew that he would have had a girlfriend by now. And he probably wouldn’t have been a virgin.

Zach didn’t seem to like any of the girls at school. He didn’t even talk to Sid about girls even though they all seemed to get along with him. He just hung out with his little circle of friends, Sid most of all, and that was it.

Sid sighed. He couldn’t stay annoyed with Zach. Zach was his favorite person. Even if he let his stupid hair fall all over his face. Maybe because if it. It was cute. Like, girls would think it was cute, he told himself. Girls would swoon over Zach if he ever gave them a reason to think he was interested.

***

Sid’s tongue was sticking out of his mouth. It wasn’t on purpose. He sometimes ran his tongue over his front teeth when he was concentrating. At the moment he was concentrating on the game he was playing.

“No, no, no!” he said.

Zach laughed beside him, “I’ve got you…”

“No… no… you don’t,” Sid said tapping buttons on the controller as quickly as he could.

Despite the flurry of action, Sid lost the game, much to Zach’s amusement.

“I told you,” Zach said.

“So close,” Sid growled, shaking his controller in mock anger.

“Not really!” Zach grinned, leaning over and poking Sid in the ribs.

“Ah!” Sid cried, trying to bend away from Zach’s finger.

He looked over and Zach was kind of leering at him. Sid shook his head and held up his hands defensively but Zach kept grinning.

Zach dropped his controller and lunged at Sid with both hands outstretched. Sid squealed, tossed his own controller aside, and tried to fend off Zach’s fingers or to counter with jabs of his own aimed at Zach’s stomach. They laughed and traded half a dozen strikes but Zach quickly gained the upper hand. Zach was grabbing Sid’s ribs and side and hip and Sid was laughing so hard he could barely breathe and holding his arms to his chest, trying to cover himself against Zach’s onslaught.

Sid had been sitting cross-legged and trying to lean away from Zach’s stabbing fingers. Soon, he stretched so far over that he lost his balance and tipped on to his side. He found himself curled up on the floor with Zach looming over him, ready to continue the assault.

“No more,” Sid said between gasps and put his hand on Zach’s shoulder Anadolu yakası travesti to hold him back.

Zach growled and made one last threatening gesture before relenting. He dropped to his hands and knees above Sid and they both laughed. They stayed like that a moment, catching their breath.

Sid turned his shoulders so that he could face his friend. He looked up at Zach’s beautiful brown eyes and rosy lips and smiled. He was happy. He didn’t ever want to stop being happy. He and Zach had made plans to go to the same college in the fall. They wanted to share a dorm and maybe get an apartment off campus the year after. That seemed perfect to him.

His hand was on Zach’s shoulder and he stretched his fingers out he could feel Zach’s body. Zach was breathing deeply and looking into his eyes. Sid felt Zach touch his hip. He felt Zach’s hand slid up his side to his ribs and gently squeeze. Sid felt his penis stir. It swelled in his pants, growing longer and thicker, aroused by the sensual touch. Sid scowled.

Zach saw the look on Sid’s face immediately. He quickly crawled off his friend and sat back down on the carpet a few feet away. He picked up the controllers and offered one to Sid.

“Another round?” he asked, “Or do you want to do something else?”

Sid sat up and looked at his friend. Zach was smiling a little, but trying to avoid eye contact and Sid could feel the tension between them. He hadn’t wanted Zach to notice him getting hard but he didn’t want Zach to think he was angry about them horsing around.

“Yeah,” he said, taking the controller and scooting closer to his friend. “But, I’m gonna get you this time,” Sid said, leaning over and bumping Zach’s shoulder with his own. He looked at Zach and saw the worry in his friend’s eyes disappear.

“No, you won’t,” Zach said with a smile, nudging Sid with his elbow.

They laughed away the tension, at least for now, and got back into the game. They were best friends and it would take a lot to drive them apart. But Sid knew that there was something unspoken between them. Something they both knew but were afraid to admit because of what it might mean for their friendship. Actually, Sid knew what it would mean. He knew he needed to talk to Zach about it. He needed to show Zach that he would stick around no matter what.

***

“Zach, are you gay?” Sid asked his best friend later that evening after they had played games and eaten dinner and started a movie. He glanced over but then turned his face back to the TV. From the corner of his eye, he could see Zach looking at him. He could sense that Zach was nervous and tried to look as relaxed as possible.

Zach turned to look at the TV, as well. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“That’s cool,” Sid said with a shrug. He wasn’t surprised. He knew what it meant when a guy wasn’t interested in girls. He also didn’t think it mattered. His dad was always going on about some sinful thing or another that people did but Sid thought that people should be able to do what they wanted. It’s not like being gay or lesbian or whatever was hurting anybody. People should mind their own business.

“Um… what about you?” Zach asked him.

“Me? No way, my dad would kill me,” Sid chuckled. He wondered why Zach had even asked, Sid talked about the girls at school all the time. Zach knew he wasn’t… like that. “I like girls,” he added, deciding the matter was settled once and for all.

“Oh,” Zach said

Zach quietly went back to watching the movie. Sid glanced over at his friend, again. He had felt the tension growing between them the last few years. Especially the last few months. Once he had realized Zach was probably gay it made sense to him but it had still been there. Now, it was out in the open. They understood each other and didn’t have to be awkward around each other anymore. Sid felt proud of himself.

*** *** ***

“Hey, dad,” Sid asked his father between mouthfuls of meatloaf, “Can I go to Zach’s house this weekend?”

“Mmm?” Mr. Carpenter mumbled without looking up from the book he had laying next to his plate.

“Can I go to Zach’s house this weekend?”

“That’s fine. Just be home by 11.”

“No,” Sid sighed, “Can I spent the night? Friday night?”

Mr. Carpenter looked up from his book and with a frown.

“Is his mother going to be there?” Mr. Carpenter asked.

“Yes,” Sid answered. His heart was racing and he had to focus to keep breathing at a normal pace. He looked down at his food and hoped he didn’t look suspicious.

“Will his father be there?”

“No,” Sid said.

“What will you be doing?”

“Just playing some games. Then going to the beach in the morning,” Sid said. At least that part wasn’t a lie.

“Do you have any homework?” Mr. Carpenter asked, looking back down at his book. Sid sighed, relieved. He knew his father would say yes as long as there were no other surprises.

“Only a little. I can do it Saturday, it’s no big deal.”

“When Bursa Travesti will you be home?” Mr. Carpenter asked.

“Saturday afternoon. No later than 3:00.”

“Alright. Well, don’t stay up too late and be sure to call if anything changes.”

“I will!” Sid said, beaming. He finished his supper quickly and went to call Zach to tell him.

***

“Your old man is so strict,” Zach said with a little grunt at the end.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have to deal with it much longer. I just don’t want to get on his bad side before I get to college,” Sid said looking down at his best friend.

Zach grimaced and let out another small grunt.

“Come on, only a little more,” Sid chuckled.

“Nah,” Zach said pushing the barbell up one last time and setting it on the rack above the weight bench, “I’m not trying to break any world records.”

Sid added some weight to the barbell while Zach stood up from the bench and drank some water. He stepped around the rack and lay down on the bench. Zach stepped around behind the rack as Sid lifted the barbell and began his first set.

“I probably shouldn’t even have you spot me,” Sid said. “You probably couldn’t pick up the bar if I let it go.”

“Hey, I could manage. I wouldn’t let my best friend die in his own garage. That would make a terrible obituary,” Zach laughed.

Sid chuckled and kept counting his reps. He glanced up at his friend. Zach was wearing a black A-shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts. Even though Zach didn’t push himself as hard as Sid did, they still worked out several times a week. Sid had gotten into it after taking a weight lifting class in 10th grade. He wasn’t into wrestling or other sports but he liked how weight lifting made him look and feel. He wanted to be big and strong and was well on his way two years later. Zach, on the other hand, was smaller and did a lot more running than Sid. The time they spent at the weight bench meant Zach had some good definition even if he was a bit skinny.

Sid tried to focus on his lifting but his eyes were drawn to Zach’s body. Zach’s shirt clung to his chest and abs. He had square shoulders and his waist was a bit narrower than his hips. Sid’s mind wandered and he started thinking about what Zach would look without clothes. Zach’s skin was smooth and tan. His chest would be broad and curved with small dark nipples and no hair at all. His stomach would be flat and his abs would be just barely visible. Below them, Sid began to visualize a dark patch of curly hair just above Zach’s flaccid penis. He thought about his friend’s balls hanging relaxed behind it.

By the time Sid realized his mistake it was too late. He felt his own balls rising closer to his body and his dick started to swell in his basketball shorts. He quickly focused on his work out and tried to will away his coming erection but could feel it climbing, unhindered by his loose-fitting clothing. He pushed the barbell up harder and faster. He hoped the exertion might diminish his arousal but after a few moments, he knew it wasn’t working. His cock must have been clearly visible. He glanced up at Zach and saw his best friend’s eyes were focused on his crotch.

Sid was expecting it to be awkward, but it wasn’t. Instead of embarrassment, he felt excitement. He didn’t know why. He knew he must be straight because he liked girls. But seeing Zach staring at his crotch aroused him. He kept pressing the barbell up even though he had already gone past his usual reps. He watched Zach watching his throbbing erection. Looked at his dark eyes and cute lips. He suddenly pictured those lips wrapped around the end of his dick. His cock twitched and Zach suddenly looked down at him. Suddenly, Sid’s playful excitement was forgotten and all he could think about was escaping.

Sid coughed, quickly put the barbell on the rack, and sat up. He rested a moment, wondering why he had been fantasizing about his friend and why he hadn’t just stopped working out when he started getting horny. He wasn’t sure why he had gotten hard in the first place. He and Zach had just been working out. Nothing exciting about that.

Sid stood and turned to find Zach standing in front of him. Zach’s long hair had fallen across his face again and obscured his eyes. Zach stepped forward and embraced Sid, wrapping his arms around Sid’s waist. Sid could hear his own heart beating as Zach’s body pressed against his chest and stomach. Sid could feel his erect cock between them. The underside of it was pressing against Zach’s groin. It was pulsing with his heartbeat and he was sure they both felt it. He looked down at his best friend and Zach tilted his face up to look into Sid’s eyes. Sid gazed at Zach’s dark brown hair, the low curve of his cheekbones, his round chin, and his full, pink lips. Sid’s emotions were overwhelming. His heart was pounding. Zach closed his eyes and pursed his lips.

“I, uh, need a shower,” Sid said, putting his hands on Zach’s arms and pushing his friend away. Zach crossed his arms and looked at the floor of the garage.

“Yeah, me too,” Zach said with a frown. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”

“Do you want me to give you a ride?”

“It’s not a long walk.”

“OK. I’ll see you Friday, right?” Sid asked. He hoped Zach wasn’t mad at him.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I grew restless, lying there on my back in my rented house in the northern Wilmington, Delaware, fringe and watching the light from the lighthouse in back sweep across my bed through the window, leave me, and then when I almost had gone to sleep, sweep across me again. I’d taken enough Benadryl before going to bed to knock out a horse, but it wasn’t putting me to sleep.

I rose from the bed and went over to the window to pull the curtains closed, only to find the curtains didn’t close; they were just narrow panels at each side of the window. I had rented the place furnished, such as it was. Looking out into the backyard and, beyond that, into the yard behind mine, to the square-cornered concrete lighthouse incongruously located there, I saw him. At least I intuitively assumed it was a “him.”

The door at the base of the lighthouse was open, emitting light from the interior and illuminating the figure of a stocky man. He was just standing there, the only notable feature of him other than his burly figure being the rampant bush of hair on his head. I couldn’t tell what color it was in the darkness of the night, but, again intuitively, I knew it was flaming red. I knew that just as I knew that he was looking at me. He shouldn’t be able to see me, of course, I reasoned. But I knew he could. I knew he was looking straight at me, seeing me, and willing me to come to him.

I was in Edgemoor, in a Wilmington residential area high above the Delaware River, although the river couldn’t be seen from here, which made the presence of a functioning lighthouse eerie. When I’d walked across the backyard of the Brandywine Boulevard house I’d rented to the backyard of the lighthouse on Lighthouse Road, the man was holding out his hand to me. I couldn’t see the features of his face. All I could see was that, indeed, his bushy hair was flaming red. His attire wasn’t of this era. He wore a billowy white cotton shirt, open in front to show a hairy, muscular chest, and britches, with a codpiece, the britches being so tight that the material followed his muscular legs closely to end mid-calf. He was barefoot.

I didn’t seem to be disconcerted that his dress wasn’t of the current era. Everything about this was surreal.

I put my hand in his and he led me into the lighthouse. We took the stairs that wound around two sides of the interior, up and up, concrete stairs, cold concrete walls and floors, empty spaces. Three staircases took us up to a circular room that was furnished for habitation, but stark, bare. The atmosphere was one awash in a reddish glow. An iron ladder went up the wall of this room to the level above. The open hatch to that level was the source of the red light, which pulsated from strong to dimmer, as the lighthouse beacon revolved above our heads.

An iron-frame bed protruded from one wall, and, without prompting, I lay down on the mattress on my back. I raised my arms above my head to let the stocky man with the red, bushy hair tie my wrists to the iron pipe running along the top of the headboard. I had come to him in just my sleeping pants. He pulled those off my legs, and I was naked to him. Standing over me beside the bed, he unlaced his codpiece and freed a thick erection protruding from a red pubic bush. I watched him stroke himself a couple of times. I heard myself moan as if from a distance.

“Yes, inside me,” I heard someone moan as if from a distance, only half realizing that it was me.

Without an answering word from him, he positioned my legs, spreading them and bending them, placing my feet flat on the mattress. I gave him no resistance, just lying there and watching his erection as he swayed beside me.

“Yes, now. Fuck me now,” the familiar voice murmured.

He came up on the bed on his knees, between my spread legs. I sensed as much as felt his hand fondling my balls and then pressing under them, sliding along my taint. I knew when he penetrated me with a finger, although, again, it was something I sensed more than felt. He leaned over, looking down into my face, but his face was still a blur to me. The red bush of his hair, though, was quite distinctive. I sensed each separate strand, just as I had done with the rampant hairs of his bush as he had been manipulating my legs. I intuitively knew his finger was inside me, moving, in and out, in and out, and I moaned—again sounding as if it were from across the room. I rocked my pelvis against the heel of his hand pressed into my taint.

There was no scent from him. I usually tuned into that with a man, searching for a scent of the man’s sex, of his want, his arousal. Now it was all touch and only a slightly detached hint of that.

I sensed the finger being removed and the pressure of the bulb of his cock at my entrance, as he hovered over my chest, placing an arm on either side of me on the bed. I whimpered and arched my back, raising my pelvis to him, clutching his buttocks with my hands, squeezing and pulling him into me. “Now, now. Inside me. Deep,” the voice murmured. This despite also being frightened by Maltepe travesti having seen how thick he was. I groaned for the thrust I knew was coming. I still couldn’t discern his facial features but I knew, as well as I knew anything, that he would be cruel.

At no time did I think of resisting him. I groaned and gave a little jerk as he penetrated, breaching, violating, thrusting. I knew he was inside me, but that too was more a sense of being stretched and filled than the sensation of a cock moving inside me, a feeling I was not a stranger to. Hovering over me, he rocked back and forth, fucking me, breathing harder, grunting, rocking more rapidly, tensing and jerking, coming inside me. At no time did I think of resisting him. I didn’t even have the sensation that I was fully there.

I had set my hips in motion, going with him, surrendering and submissive to the cock, leveraging the balls of my feet and the muscles of my thighs to push up as he thrust down, his throbbing cock pushing deeper, moving faster, my senses concentrating totally on the shaft possessing me and moving inside me—coming nearly simultaneously with him with a small cry of release and satiation—and a slightly bitter aftertaste of embarrassment and guilt that I had been so easily conquered, had wanted it so badly.

At his climax, clutching his buttocks to me, I had called out “Do it! Take it. Take it!” And I released again too. But the satisfaction from the release of the ejaculation deep inside me was being tainted by the guilt washing over me that I had given it, that I had fully submitted, had wanted it so much. That I had wanted it from him, knowing full well that this hadn’t been about sex; it had been about control, about submission.

* * * *

I woke with a start, the pass of the lighthouse light blinding me when my eyelids flipped open. I was lying in my bed, soaked in sweat. My pajama pants were on the floor beside the bed. I was hard and had been stroking myself—and had just come.

With a groan, I rolled out of the bed and went to the adjacent bathroom, the window of which overlooked the backyard. I turned on the light, opened the medicine chest above the sink, and took out the packet of Benadryl tablets.

The light from the lighthouse panned across the window, bringing a red glow into the room. I turned to the window, to pull down the shade, but the shade stuck. I looked across the backyard toward the lighthouse in the neighboring yard. The door at the base of the lighthouse was open, allowing the light from the interior to spill out onto the concrete pad outside the door. I looked around for the figure of a man, assuming there should be one there. There wasn’t. But, as I was turning away, I thought I saw the figure in the doorway of the lighthouse. It was just a fleeting sense that someone had been there. When I looked fully back on the scene, no one was there. But now the door was shut and no light shone from the lighthouse except for the incessant revolving red-lit beacon at the top of the square-cornered concrete tower.

I had the bathroom light on, though. If anyone had been out there, he could clearly see me backlit in the bathroom window.

Groaning, in a daze, I tossed two more Benadryl tablets down the hatch, turned off the bathroom light, struggled back to the bedroom, fell into the bed naked, and slept the sleep of the dead.

* * * *

“Bad news, Craig?”

I looked across my desk to Paul Dewitt’s facing desk in the New York Times features section. Yes, it was bad news, but it was balanced by good news. My request for a year’s sabbatical at half salary as long as I provided a feature a week had been granted. The not-so-good news on that was that I hadn’t counted on getting it, had not planned for it, and it started in four weeks. I’d have to have some features ideas to negotiate with the editor before I took off—wherever it was I’d take off to. I knew I couldn’t get my novel finished by staying here in New York. There were too many distractions, most of which involved day-long hangovers.

“Some bad news, yes,” I answered. “The short story I submitted to the New Yorker has been rejected.” Maybe I was shooting too high, but I thought that, being at the Times and in town . . .

“Tough. It happens to us all,” Paul said with a breezy tone.

“Not to everyone,” I answered, a bit gloomily. I’d be on half salary for the sabbatical, but that wouldn’t be enough to live on. I’d have to get some acceptances backed up by checks. It was tough trying to make the transition from newspaper features to literary short stories. But it was a new arrow I wanted to put in my quiver.

“Probably to everyone. It happened to F. Scott Fitzgerald here.” He lifted up the box of manuscripts and letters by the writer that had been bequeathed to the Times and that our editor wanted a feature done on. Paul wasn’t that interested in working on that, but he had been rummaging around in the box.

“It never,” I answered.

“It did,” Paul insisted. “It happened to Ümraniye travesti Fitzgerald too. Here’s a short story he wrote that was rejected by Collier’s back in 1929. He had to fall back on trying to sell short stories after The Great Gatsby didn’t take off and before Zelda started going gaga and gave him the inspiration for Tender Is the Night.”

“A rejection? Never,” I said. “Let me see that.”

“Here. The story was titled ‘In the Lighthouse,’ and here’s his cover letter giving background. He said it was inspired by something that happened where he and Zelda were living when he was really down. Fred seems to think this might be the central nub of a feature somehow.”

I stood and reached across the desks for the manuscript and the two letters. Sure enough, Collier’s had sent him a form letter, saying just about the same thing my rejection letter from the New Yorker said, and with just about the same wording, even though the letters were sent nearly ninety years apart: “Shows promise, with work; not what we’re looking for at this time; feel free to submit something else.” Blah, blah, blah.

The cover letter said that the story was based in real events, concerning the disappearance of young men in Fitzgerald’s neighborhood in the northern, hilly section of Wilmington, Delaware, ten years before the Fitzgeralds lived there. The mystery was connected to a lighthouse being completed in the winter of 1919 above the Delaware River. The contractor for the lighthouse was kidnapping young men, sexually assaulting them in the lighthouse, and murdering them. He was only caught when one of the young men escaped. Until then the authorities had been baffled by the disappearances. A yellowed newspaper article was attached to the letter. The contractor was identified as an Irish immigrant who often appeared in historical pageants in nearby Philadelphia, where he lived. He was in his forties, a loner, and his distinctive features were his stocky build and an unruly head of red hair.

I read the short story. It twisted the facts of the case into a paranormal Halloween-type story that played off the man’s red hair and the costumes he wore in the Philadelphia historical pageants. The writing was quite good, but Fitzgerald seemed to be trying out a Poe-style horror mystery technique that wasn’t at all vintage Fitzgerald and that he probably abandoned altogether, for good reason, after this unsuccessful outing. Still, Fred wanted something done with this treasure trove—something could be researched to be published at the end of 2019, a hundred years after the lighthouse was built. It was interesting news to me—and thus probably to readers as well—that Fitzgerald had ever lived in Wilmington. I needed some features ideas to take to Fred before I went on sabbatical. And Wilmington was not New York but was not that far from New York, and there was no trouble in ginning up interest in F. Scott Fitzgerald among New Yorkers. I thought the proximity to New York meant Wilmington would be a good place to go for my sabbatical.

“Did I hear you tell Fred you weren’t too enthused about working up a feature on Fitzgerald and the stuff in this box?” I asked Paul.

“Nope. I have my heart on writing something about the U.S. Tennis Open and the Flushing Meadows site,” he answered.

“Do you mind if I—?”

“Be my guest, Craig. I’d stand you a drink to jump in on this.”

My first question was where in Wilmington Fitzgerald was when he wrote this. Where was the lighthouse? I went to google. What I found had me going in to see Fred and pitching the story idea. The Fitzgeralds lived on the banks of the Delaware River north of downtown Wilmington from 1927 to 1929 in a stately old mansion in the Edgemoor area called Ellerslie. Fitzgerald was back on the East Coast, licking his wounds at the cool reception The Great Gatsby got when it was published and from not doing well at his first cut at Hollywood. Tragically, the novel didn’t become a candidate for “greatest American novel” until after he died. The house was knocked down in 1973 to make way for a large and ugly DuPont chemical plant. That would be an interesting element of the story and would energize the historical preservationists.

The lighthouse provided an interesting element too. It was still there and it was still beaming its light to ships entering the Delaware River on their way up to Philadelphia. Even more interesting was that it existed as a surprise. The hilly terrain around it, the Edgemoor and Bellefont areas, had built up into a treed suburban area. When you were at the lighthouse, on Lighthouse Road between Lore and Haines Avenues, you would have no idea there was a body of water needing a lighthouse anywhere in the area if you didn’t know the Delaware River was down the hill. The lightkeeper’s two-and-a-half-story red-brick Colonial Revival house was now boarded up and the lighthouse was unmanned. But it was still in operation, beaming its light out over the Wilmington suburbs and down to the Delaware River.

The potentials Tuzla travesti for this feature were delicious, I thought, with multiple angles to explore.

* * * *

The euphoria from seeing the way ahead clearer led me, perhaps, to be a bit too open and available that night at the gym. The gym was one that gay guys used a lot and I went there with that as a side benefit too, I’ll have to admit, more to be in a comfortable element than to cruise or anything. I was gay and I occasionally did hook up, but I wasn’t actively promiscuous or anything. I just had needs like everyone else.

There was a guy who often was at the gym the same time I was—he was muscular enough that I figured he spent most of his time at a gym. He was in his forties and was compact and hard bodied, built close to the ground but solid, not fat. His face wasn’t anything to write home about but he had a great body that commanded attention. I did look at his body with admiration, which he apparently took as having a sexual interest. That wasn’t what I meant at all, but he buzzed around me when I was at the gym with the apparent understanding we could get it on. There was something about him that made me stand off from him. He had a great body and all, but he had a manner that made me feel he would be controlling—that he would demand total submission.

That night at the gym, I must have been flirting with him more than usual because he was bold enough to suggest that we catch a bite to eat together afterward. My euphoria from getting a sabbatical and picking up a feature’s idea earlier in the day led me to say yes.

The “bite to eat” in a local steak house was OK, but this led to a stop behind an abandoned warehouse short of his promised dropping me off at my Manhattan apartment. I lived full time in Manhattan. I didn’t have a car, although now I’d have to buy one for my sabbatical away from the city. He had a Ford double-cab truck elevated on fat tires.

I was on a happy high and feeling a little randy myself, so I went with the stop and the kissing and a bit of foundling. And then I went with the freeing of cocks and the mutual hand jobbing. I was ready for some mutual getting off. Before I knew it, he had his face in my lap and I was lying back in the passenger seat.

“The lever there, at the side, between the seat and the door. Recline your seat,” he said.

“I don’t know. Maybe just a hand job jack-off tonight,” I said, deciding already that this would be the only night. He was a bit scary intense.

“Do it,” he growled.

I did it, and I laid back in the reclined seat, with my hands holding his head, as he gave me head. Every time I indicated, or he sensed, that I was going to come, he backed off, edging me until my balls ached.

When he came up for air, he said, “Turn around in the seat. Move your knees into seat and lean over the seatback. Give me your ass.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “You’re pretty thick. I haven’t—” I didn’t sign up to be fucked by this guy. That obviously was where he was heading with this.

“Kneel over the seat. Give me your asshole,” he commanded.

He was getting all master and slave on me. He was kind of a crazy guy anyway, even at the gym, fast to heat up. And he was such a muscular power guy. He could break me in two, if he wanted. And it had been a while since I’d been fucked. I convinced myself I wanted it. And, truth be known and even though it embarrassed me and made me mad at myself, I responded to be ordered about. Being submissive aroused me. Having a guy so aroused by me, wanting to fuck me so bad that he he’d go cave man on me, gave me a high. Usually I saw that trouble coming and avoided it. But here I was in isolation in a commanding guy’s truck sitting high off the ground and having orders growled at me to move into a position I hadn’t been in for a while and, to be honest, wanted to be in.

He sat back up on the driver’s side, pulling a condom packet out from somewhere and crowning his cock, while I turned and rose in the passenger seat, my knees buried in the back edge of the cushion, my arms dangling over the back of the reclined seat, and my butt projecting out. He came over on top of me and penetrated me with a lubed finger, opening me up.

I whimpered and turned my face to his. “You’ll take it slow, won’t you?” I asked. “You’re pretty big.” He, in fact, was. I’d seen him in the showers at the gym. He’d made sure I’d seen him.

“I’ll give it to you good,” he responded.

I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t want to know what that meant. I was in position. I wanted it now.

We kissed while he finger fucked me more open. And then, as I groaned and he grunted, he was stuffing me with his cock and fucking me with strong, rhythmic thrusts. Finding that I could handle him—and wanting to handle him—I went with the fuck, moving my buttocks with him in his thrusting, aroused by being controlled by a strong man, his body closely covering mine and his fists gripping my wrists, holding me enslaved as his thick cock stretched and worked me. It was a good, satisfying fuck—as much for him as for me, if the sounds of an animal in rut he was making and the strength of his jerking and releasing were any indication. He slapped me on the rump and growled, “Nice job, baby,” as he pulled out of me.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

*Hello!

I have a few chapters of this finished, but I will try to release them one every two weeks, so I will have time to finish further chapters. I’m working on a few other things, and I’m pretty busy with finals, but don’t worry. I wont post anything that I’m not completely sure I can finish.

All characters are 18+*

*

My lips were sealed. Sealed around his limp wrinkled member.

I massaged the soft glans with my tongue. He was old, so it took a while. I buried my lips in his scant wiry pubic hair. It was mostly grey, with a few streaks of pure white. I massaged the limp little three-inch nub of soft unresponsive flesh with my lips and tongue.

He groaned and put his hands on my head. His limp cock was starting to fill. It was about four inches long now. It still stretched slightly when I withdrew my head, holding the tip of it in my lips. I reached between his skinny old-man legs and cradled his ballsack. It was lukewarm and dangly. I cradled it up to a normal height and continued my careful oral manipulations. My jaw was starting to get sore, along with my knees. I had been kneeling here in this dark back room for almost ten minutes already.

The semi-turgid tip of his cock pressed against the back of my throat, but with no real urgency. When I tried to move forwards, his cock was still too soft to penetrate. I had to muffle a frustrated sigh of relief when he finally got hard. When he finally started to bump his skinny hips, a sure sign that he was ready, that he was almost done.

I increased the tempo of my bobbing head. The head of his cock hit the back of my throat over and over. I gagged a little as his cock pushed past my gag reflex.

“Neil!” He gasped. I took the hint and quickly withdrew. I rubbed his slick cock with my left hand while grabbing for a tissue.

I was too late. I had been hoping to cover his cock with the tissue before he came, but nope. His come squirted onto my cheek and hand and the shoulder of my blue uniform shirt. I gritted my teeth and swore silently. I wiped my face and shirt and hand with the tissue, hoping that it wouldn’t leave a stain.

Mr. Browning pulled up his slacks, panting. He put the apron back on over his pants and work shirt.

I blinked in the light outside the dark storage room. I went to the front of the little gas station/convenience and flipped the paper sign that he had hung on the door. The sign said ‘Back in 5’. It used to be ‘Out for lunch’ but then I started working the evening shifts. It was getting dark outside. Ben and the rest would be expecting me soon.

A young woman came in and looked through the glass cases holding all of the drinks. It was a stinking-hot day and the glass was frosted with beads of water from the humidity. I watched her open the door and close her eyes in the draft of cool air from inside, wiping her sweaty forehead.

Mr. Browning looked at the clock on the wall. It had a crack in the glass and the second-hand was broken.

His voice was quiet. “You can head home Neil.”

I sighed and took off my plastic name-tag, tossing it in a small plastic basket under the register. I clocked out and dug the tough string shopping bag from my pocket. I untangled the strings and went through the little grocery section, looking for things that we absolutely needed.

I bagged a 12-pack of Kraft macaroni. I grabbed a heavy bag of apples that was a dollar off with this coupon I had clipped from the paper. I took a half-gallon of whole milk from the frosty beverage coolers, closing my eyes in the brief cool puff of air.

At the tiny section of over-the-counter medication, I picked up the cheapest brand of Tylenol knockoffs. I stuffed it all in the string bag and rang it up at the register with Mr. Browning. We ran a tab with him. Every month Mr. Browning ‘accidentally’ charged us twenty or thirty dollars less. That was my contribution to the family. Along with two part-time jobs and trying to keep the peace.

I walked out and it was the time of day where the sun was disappearing, but the temperature was still boiling, barely starting to cool.

I swiped my wrist across my forehead, feeling droplets of moisture drip off. It had been a long day. And it was only eight.

—

The elevator in my apartment had been broken for as long as I could remember. I heaved my way up ten flights of stairs, feeling the sweat-stains on my blue work-shirt expand. I could hear Lisse crying from the ninth floor. I swore softly and hurried, ignoring the way my legs burned for a break.

I burst into apartment 1012. Lisse was sitting in her playpen, crying. It was the weak tired kind of crying, and I knew that she would quit soon, if only from sheer exhaustion. She had a bloody nose and her little face was scrunched up and red. I could hear Calvin watching TV in the other room, turned up loud to what sounded like a cartoon. Ben was sitting on the worn couch with his textbooks spread in front of him, clutching his hair in his fists. I could smell something Travesti burning.

I ran to the kitchen, and Celia was in there all alone, tears running down her face as she tried to wash something burnt and blackened out of the saucepan into the sink. She saw me and started to cry harder.

“I’m sorry Neil! I tried to make Ben do it but he wont because he’s studying for his stupid tests and he yelled at me! Calvin wont help at all, he just said that he needs to watch some dumb show. I tried to make Lisse stop crying but she just w-w-wont stop!”

My frail ten-year-old half-sister collapsed and started to cry uncontrollably, going into minor hysterics. I was so full of pent-up rage at my brothers that I felt like I would explode.

Instead I put the groceries on the table. “Celia? Put the groceries away, then go to Ben’s room and lie down on the big bed for a few minutes with the lights off. I want you to calm down and take deep breaths, okay?”

I left the chaotic kitchen, the charred smell making me feel sick. I scooped up Lisse from her playpen, feeling her sagging diaper for weight. I despaired at the stink. How could one toddler produce so much shit?

I walked down the hallway. Calvin was sitting on the edge of his bunk bed. He was Celia’s twin, husky and mohawked, staring intently at a cartoon on the screen.

“Calvin, why didn’t you help your sister? She is so stressed out right now and she isn’t the only one. The house is falling apart and you are just sitting on your lazy ass in here watching a show about fucking ninja turtles. Meanwhile, your little sister has been screaming for god knows how long with shit in her diaper.”

Calvin glared at me. “Why doesn’t Ben do anything? All he ever does is read his books. Why couldn’t Celia do it?”

I just about snapped. “Celia was in the kitchen trying to make dinner for your sorry ass, and Ben is studying for his finals. What have you contributed? Jack-motherfucking-shit.”

Calvin was red-faced when I turned off the TV and yanked the cord from the outlet. “You never yell at them, you JERK. You make me do ALL of the work here.”

I bounced Lisse in my arms, smelling her stink and trying not to murder my half-brother. “You never do anything for this family Calvin. All I’m asking you is to go into the kitchen and help your sister put away the groceries and set the table.”

Calvin whispered something under his breath that sounded a lot like ‘motherfucker’ but I didn’t care. I was just too tired already. I went into the bathroom and changed Lisse’s diaper and cleaned up her face. She looked just purely exhausted. I wished we could afford to put on the AC once in a while, but that was just too much on top of everything else. Her baby-fine hair was matted with sweat and her skin was sticky with it.

I filled her sippy cup with cold water and gave it to her before putting her back in the too-small playpen. She sipped thirstily. At least we didn’t have to buy formula for her anymore. The cancer had consumed my mother’s energy, and Lisse had only breastfed for three months before my mother had nothing left to give. Mom lost the fight a few days before Lisse turned one, but she hadn’t been able to speak to anyone for weeks.

Celia moved past me, her eyes red and socketed from her stressful weeping. Calvin was sullenly putting out five plates and cups and sets of silverware. I gingerly stepped up to Ben, who looked less stressed then before, but not by much. It was his junior year, and studies to become an engineer getting harder, and the loans were stacking up.

“Do you need anything?” I asked softly.

He buried his face in his hands, running his hands through his dark short hair. “Thanks for shutting them up. I just need a good ten hours to look this over before the test tomorrow.” His sarcasm was bitter, scalding.

I made up my mind. I closed his textbook, saving his place with a folder. “Take a break. You wont learn anything if you’re so mad.” For a second he looked like he wanted to punch me, but then he just relaxed. “You’re right. I’ll help you make dinner.”

—

Ben was three years older then me, and the smartest guy in the family for sure, but he couldn’t cook worth a damn. I had him slicing up apples while I made two boxes of macaroni. He poured us each half a cup of milk and put a dash of water in each cup to make the milk last longer. He poured some water in the jug, shook it up, and put it back in the fridge. I put a lump of macaroni on everybody’s plate and called everyone to the kitchen, where we ate on a folded-out card table.

I hefted Lisse into her high chair. Celia looked calmer, but her eyes were hollow and stressed. Calvin looked sullen and hungry. Lisse just looked exhausted. Ben was slightly better, but he had that look in his eyes that told me that he was depressed and angry.

“Let’s say grace everybody.” He murmured. We all bowed our heads and clasped our hands. “Thank you Lord, for this food you have set before us. We pray that I will İstanbul Travesti do good on my tests tomorrow, that Calvin and Celia do good in their schoolwork, and that Lisse can get toilet trained as soon as possible.” Celia and Calvin chuckled. I had a weary smile. I changed most of her diapers.

“And we pray that Toby is safe, and for his safe return. It’s just another few weeks.”

I saw Calvin fidget, and I wanted to beat his skull in. I didn’t move, I just waited for Ben to be done, and then I started to eat.

What little extra there was went to Lisse and Ben. The apple slices tasted good, we hadn’t had fruit in a while.

—

It was nine, and all of the younger ones were going to bed. Calvin, Celia, and Lisse all slept in one room. Me and Ben split the big bed.

Calvin’s pajamas were too small. He was curling up in the top bunk. I visited him. “Hey buddy. I’m sorry about earlier, we were just very stressed out. And it was a long day.”

He glared at me. “It’s always a long day. You’re always stressed.”

I sighed and pressed my forehead against the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I know. I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys, okay? Maybe sometime soon we can eat out.”

He grinned. He had my mom’s eyes. Calvin frustrated me, but I could never hate him or Celia, or Lisse. They were a part of me. “Really?”

I ruffled his dumb mohawk. “Really.”

I crouched so I could talk to Celia. She was wearing one of Toby’s old t-shirts that sagged down to her knees.

“Hey Celie-belie.” I whispered, tickling her stomach. She giggled. “Thanks for helping today, but be careful in the kitchen. If these lazy bums wont help, then just wait for me to get back, okay? Goodnight Celie-belie.”

“Goodnight Neilie-belie.” She whispered, turning over to sleep. She looked more like her father. She had his dark hair and eyes. She even had the heavy straight line of his brows, and she frowned in the same way. I loved her, but sometimes the faint resemblance to him made me uneasy.

I made sure that Lisse was sleeping and had her sippy cup with her in the too-small crib. It had finally cooled down a little, with all of the windows open and the old fan on full blast. Her hair was still sticky with sweat. I would give her a bath in the morning.

I went to the kitchen, where Ben was studying again. “I’m gonna turn in, kay? I have to get up early to get to the factory. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

He nodded. “Neil? Thanks for helping out tonight. It was a real mess here.”

I hugged him. “No problem. Go to bed before midnight.”

—

I worked at a factory that made IV fluid. For my shifts, I slit open hundred-pound bags of powder and dumped it into a gigantic vat of boiling water. It got to be monotonous, almost meditative. But my shift at the IV factory didn’t start until eleven. I woke up at six with him snoring next to me. I packed three lunches, one for each of the twins and one for me. Cheese sandwiches with a plastic bag of olives each. I wrote a note for our neighbor Rosa who came over to babysit Lisse a few hours a day. She was nice, and all she asked was thirty bucks a week and a meal a day. A better deal then anyone else we could find, plus she was always available, since her kids had moved away.

I started walking down the highway. It was an eight-mile walk to the county jail.

—

I had arranged for a visit with Toby the week before. They were pretty lax about visiting hours. You had to arrange them at least three days in advance, but they could lose visiting privilege for bad behavior. It seemed like Toby was always in trouble.

But when I got there they welcomed me in and I waited in a dingy little room while they brought him to the visiting center. A cop ran a metal-detecter over me, quickly went through my bag, and let me in. It was a casual check. Toby was only in for another couple of weeks, and they weren’t worried about him breaking out now.

The visiting room was small and bright. A table and two chairs and a bright fluorescent light made up the whole thing. My oldest brother was sitting in one of the chairs, all 240 lean muscular pounds of him. He was the spitting image of my father. Every time I saw him, I was shocked by how dangerous he looked. He had a mop of unruly pale brown hair and a carefully trimmed brown beard and wild blue eyes and a scar on his cheek. The scar was new, taped shut with butterfly stitches.

He stood up in a fluid motion, grinning. “Neil!” He hugged me tightly and I hugged him back, my cheek against the rough canvas of his blue jacket. “It’s good to see you Bro.” He growled, and I could hear a hint of tearfulness in his voice.

I dug in my backpack as soon as he let me go. I gave him three books that I had bought for ten cents each at a garage sale. I took out the saran-wrapped loaf of banana bread that Celia had made for him. I had some crayon drawings (bright scribbles mostly) from Lisse, and Ben had enclosed a folder of glossy magazine Ankara Travesti pictures cut out from Penthouse and Hustler. I had a ziplock bag of candy that was supposed to be from Calvin, but that didn’t fool him.

“That kid hates me. You don’t have to keep pretending to bring presents from him.”

I shrugged. “He’ll warm up to you. What happened to your cheek?”

Toby looked through the folder of pictures, grunting with approval. I chuckled. “Got into a fight. He started it, so that’s why I can still visit you.”

I bit my lip. “Be careful Toby. You’re going to get out soon.”

He sighed. “Soon? Three weeks ain’t soon enough.”

I glanced at the clock. We only had ten more minutes. I grabbed his hand. “You haven’t been out for more than three years. We need you. Don’t get yourself shivved or killed in the home stretch.” I felt tears beading up in my eyes. “I miss you.”

He looked at me and his eyes were sad. He got up and hugged me again. He smelled like soap and sweat. I missed him so bad. “You’re the only one who does Bro. Ben visits sometimes, but he’s busy with his life and his girl. Celia’s a sweetheart, but how much can even the sweetest kid in the world like the man who killed their father?”

I squeezed him. “You shouldn’t be here. He was a monster.” I started to cry and he rubbed my back. I had to work so hard at home. I was always the one that had my head. I was the one who took care of everything. It was only when I visited Toby that I got to let go, got to be a kid. I had been a surrogate parent since mom died. I had quit school my Junior year to work two jobs, when Ben had lost his.

The intercom crackled. “Time’s up. Toby, you leave first.”

I slipped a five-dollar bill into his hand. He tried to shove it back, but I closed his fingers. “For a rainy day.” I whispered, wiping my face. “It isn’t much, just take it!”

He took his gifts and stepped out of the electronic door, waving goodbye.

—

“Neil!” Browning grunted. This time I managed to wrap the tip of his cock with the tissue first.

I threw the twist of tissue into the waste bin and got out of the back room to look through the grocery section and see if there was anything I needed. Browning was zipping his fly, turning the sign, and then he answered the telephone, which was buzzing like a massive fly.

I stacked Hungry Man TV dinners in the string bag. They were on sale, ten for twenty dollars, and I knew I couldn’t pass that up. All they had was fried chicken, and Celia hated fried chicken, but maybe I could find something else…

“Neil? It’s your brother, he says it’s an emergency.”

I ran to the phone, dropping the string shopping bag where I had been standing. I pressed the warm plastic to my ear.

“Hello? Hello? Ben? What’s going on?”

Ben’s voice was weary more then anything else. “Calvin’s hurt.” He said dully. “When the twins were walking to school, this pit bull was loose… He had some broken twine around it’s collar. They’ve killed the dog, but it savaged and broke Calvin’s arm. We’re in the emergency room now. Celia’s at the apartment with Lisse and Rosa, she had a panic attack.”

I could feel my heart sinking. This latest blow would mean more money to be spent. More money then we had. Also, a visit from the social worker. “Do you want me to come there…?” I asked.

“Don’t bother. Calvin’s staying the night. Just get back to Celia and Lisse, Kay? Also, win the lottery.” He was trying to be funny, but I could hear the despair behind his words, the worry.

When I hung up, Browning was looking at me timidly. “I’m sorry Neil… are you going to be okay?”

He rung up the Hungry Man dinners automatically. I forced myself to speak cheerfully. “He didn’t get hurt bad, we can take care of it.”

He looked at me sadly. He could see right through me. He had bitten his lip, as if he were thinking hard about saying something, but afraid to say it.

“Neil? Can I tell you something? Please don’t take it the wrong way.”

My heart was in my throat, and I could feel tears pressing close to the surface. Was he going to tell me that he didn’t want my blowjobs anymore? Sometimes the ‘forgotten’ twenty dollars on our tab was all that kept us from going without some necessity or another.

“Before… Before our arrangement I wasn’t exactly celibate.” He spoke very softly, glancing at the door, ready to stop if anyone came in. “There is a place downtown, a mile or so from here. There are four or five boys that hang out around the lamp post at the corner. Rent boys.”

I stared at him. I had never heard that term before, but I knew what he meant from the context. Male hookers, who serviced men. I stared at him warily.

“They waited at the corner, and you would come up, pay them and go to this shabby apartment behind them and choose a room.” He watched me nervously and licked his lips. “If you needed extra money…” He trailed off, his eyes shifting. He was afraid that I would get angry.

‘I suppose you saved a lot of money when you hired me.’ I thought bitterly. I just couldn’t handle it, I had too much to think about.

I started to leave without saying anything. Browning told me the address as I stepped out. He looked so old all of a sudden.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

All he could think of was the pain. It was a long time since something had hurt this much but he was determined that he would not give them the satisfaction of knowing it. So he curled up in a foetal ball and tried not to let them kick him to death, or damage his face too much. When he had given them the missive for this job he had specified that they did not touch his face, but you could never guarantee that someone doing a thing for money you’d already paid them would stick to the rules. He closed his eyes tightly and focussed on the video shoot earlier this afternoon. That was where the idea had come from of course. Well, in truth, the germ of it was planted in his mind during the spring when they did that Adam photo shoot for the album and he’d first come up with the Animorous concept.

Peter Adam was a famous photographer, notorious even. In Barcelona, promoting the first single, Rayne Wylde, glamorous lead vocalist with the notoriously bisexual Glam Rock band Whipsnade, had met up with Adam’s people, who insisted that the snapper desperately wanted to take his picture. SOLD, Wylde’s record label was moderately enthusiastic about it. Adam had a reputation for risqué material and this fitted in quite snugly with Whipsnade’s existing portfolio.

Consequently, Rayne Wylde found himself posing nude for the first time in over ten years. It was Adam himself who had brought the matter up. He was an ebullient fellow; a big, blond German with a rack of impressive muscles and a seriously warped genius to boot. He invited Rayne to his studio in Barcelona and in his no-nonsense way proceeded to regale the singer with tales of his time making porn movies and running sex clubs in Berlin prior to becoming a photographer. The walls of his office and studios were covered in framed prints of his work, including a spectacular shot of one very famous young male model and It-Boy kneeling in mud to his mid-thighs, in a pig pen, splattered with filth, masturbating vigorously whilst some pigs and an old man and a little boy in peasant clothing looked on impassively.

“You have done porno before, no?” Peter Adam asked as Rayne was beginning to enjoy himself.

“Er… no,” the singer assured him, moments before his companion produced a slim portfolio and flicked it open, slapping a number of cuttings and pictures onto the desk between them.

His heart had performed a back flip at the sight of them.

“Is you?” said Adam, pointing to the face of a boy he had not seen for fifteen years.

Rayne just blinked at them in astonishment.

“Where did you get these?” he wanted to know.

Adam shrugged and smiled wickedly; “Ah, you know… I collect, over the years.”

Rayne studied each clipping with wide, pale, horrified eyes. His hair had been bottle blond back then, a near-white, floppy cow’s-lick tumbling around his sharp-boned, sixteen-year old face. He could recall everything about the shoot from having his makeup applied (the make-up girl had been amazed by his naturally long, thick, black eyelashes) to walking out into a room where two strangers were waiting to have sex with him whilst a third photographed the proceedings. It had been very amateurish, when all was said and done; just a semi-detached house in Willesden. He had been prepared in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the toilet seat and the session took place in a near empty back bedroom, stripped of all furnishings except for a spartan bed and a simple, wooden chair.

He pulled his thoughts back to the present smartly, lifting his head to meet Peter Adam’s shrewd gaze.

“Is this why you wanted to take my picture?”

“You photograph well,” the older man said with another shrug. “You have a good face. The camera loves you.”

He did not argue. It was true he supposed. Some of the promotional pictures for the last album had to be seen to be believed. No one who had known Raymond Wilde as a skinny, rebellious child would ever recognize the man he had become.

“I’m not sure this is what the record company are after,” he said mildly, his soft, husky voice recovering some of its gravity as he pushed a black and white photograph back across the desk. It depicted his naked, teenaged self sprawled supine on a mattress with his knees over the shoulders of one tattooed, muscular skinhead and his lips wrapped around the hard cock of another, who was holding him roughly by the hair. He shifted a little in his seat to try to disguise the fact that the overt physicality of the image was making him very aroused.

Adam grinned wickedly at once.

“Is no problem,” he reassured his potential sitter. “We make nice pictures for SOLD; sanitized pictures that do not offend the mothers of your little kiddy fans. Then we make other portraits, more…” he paused and sucked on his teeth for a moment, considering the word he wanted; “…more explicit portraits, for my own portfolio, no?”

Rayne raised one eyebrow cynically.

“You want to take dirty pictures of me?”

Peter Adam looked massively offended. He huffed and puffed and sat back in his vast leather chair with a martyred expression İzmir Travesti on his face.

“I do not take dirty pictures, Mr. Wylde! I am a professional.”

“Ahh…” Rayne nodded slowly, his eyes wandering around the walls, taking in the images hanging there. A few were innocuous enough; curiously phallic shots of tall buildings in black and white and a misty picture of a naked woman with long blonde hair sitting astride a massively well-endowed white stallion like some modern-day Lady Godiva. In contrast there was the pig-pen print (blown up almost to life-sized proportions); and two smaller portraits of a black-skinned male, his muscles gleaming as though he had been polished with wax, standing framed by the vast window of a tower-block apartment, high above some anonymous cityscape. In both pictures he was completely nude; the first depicted him standing with his back to the camera showing off the perfect curves of his firm backside; in the other he had half turned to look at the camera, displaying his muscular, hairless physique and massive, erect phallus. “Is that Warren Miller the baseball player?” he asked, indicating the pair of prints.

“It is,” Peter nodded, delightedly. “Is he not a beautiful specimen of manhood? Warren wished to come out as a homosexual and he decided that he would commission these pictures as a celebration of his sexuality.”

“Lovely,” Rayne drawled with a wry smile. “Does the US Baseball Federation know about that?”

“I believe his team use them to terrify the opposition!” Adam said, deadpan.

The singer laughed appreciatively.

Now Peter Adam added; “I am told by certain sources that you are promiscuous with other men, is this true?”

Rayne cleared his throat.

“I have been known to indulge from time to time.”

“It would give me pleasure to photograph you unclothed,” the other man informed him bluntly. “Are you shy about going naked in front of strangers?”

The singer shook his head at once.

“In that case,” Peter told him enthusiastically, “I have some very excellent cocaine in my desk. If you would like to share a couple of lines with me and then remove your clothing, I will take some test shots and we can set up a proper session.”

The tester session took most of the afternoon. Rayne still had some prints of the pictures, half of which were taken with him sitting shirtless and wasted in Peter’s leather chair with his fly unfastened and his prick hanging out in various stages of erection. In the others he was fully nude, either sprawled in the chair with his legs spread or bent over the desk, licking residual traces of coke off the leather surface. He was mildly embarrassed by this, coke invariably made him do crazy things that he knew he would regret. So it was that when Peter Adam set up the camera on a tripod and a timer and unfastened his pants, telling his subject that he was so beautiful it was making him furiously horny, Rayne was quite willing to go with the flow. The sex was quick and brutal and his rectum ached for days afterwards but the pictures gave him a hard on every time he looked at them.

That had begun it. Since his very early twenties Rayne had not been involved in a relationship with another man in which he was not the dominant partner but Peter was somehow so very in control of things that it seemed impossible to deny him what he wanted. Whilst the band were in Spain, Adam came along with the entourage and whenever there were a few hours free he photographed Whipsnade’s glamorous lead singer in a variety of erotic poses. Some were relatively innocuous as he had promised SOLD they would be, although the underlying theme of them was one of submission and domination. The album shots were taken with a pair of beautiful black panthers on loan from a unit which trained animals for movie shoots and featured Rayne in heavy make-up, chains and manacles, and very little else. His entire body was waxed, (which was agony, although the cocaine he had snorted earlier helped) and then draped in emerald green silk. The panthers were posed to firstly seem as if they were mauling him, then finally curling around him and protecting him as tenderly as two lovers.

In a second session based upon the panther shoot, the two creatures were replaced by oiled, naked, black bodybuilders in studded collars and Rayne was collared and manacled on a green-silk draped bed within a cage, blindfolded with a skein of black silk and used vigorously by both men in an echo of the skinhead photograph Adam had shown him earlier. The photographer also video-recorded this hour-long session and took his own turn between Rayne’s legs once both black studs had coupled with the singer.

The cage theme recurred in a lot of Peter Adam’s work. He took pictures of Rayne in the role of tortured martyr, imprisoned and dripping blood from faked wounds on his head and body. He was dressed in a flimsy toga-like garment which was gradually removed during a session which saw him bound to the cage bars in a cruciform pose by three models in Romanesque apparel and flogged with apparent vigor. As his Konya Travesti assailants whipped him they grew visibly more excited. At last, unable to constrain their erections they forced him to his knees with his wrists still bound to the bars, stripping the last rags of clothing from his battered body and gang-raping him violently. In all of these sessions, the sexual intercourse was real and deeply penetrative. The models wore discreet rubbers and little else. Peter Adam always went bareback and Rayne never objected.

That had awoken something dormant in him for a long time. He returned to London with the past preying on his mind. In April of that year, Whipsnade filmed the video for Animorous on the London Underground at four in the morning. Adam directed, using a theme that echoed his panther prints. A pair of shadowy black cats stalked the band through the tunnels. In the ultimate moments of the video (which were promptly banned by MTV and most terrestrial channels too) Rayne fled into an empty elevator compartment and was cornered there by the cats, who metamorphosed into nude, muscular, feline-looking men who stripped him half-naked and pushed him roughly to his knees. As the doors closed, Rayne was apparently being forced to submit to oral and anal sex.

The uncensored version of the video was cut throughout with brief glimpses of writhing, naked bodies and moments of penetrative action. The ending was extended and a silent, fifty second sequence filmed from the ceiling of the lift compartment showed Rayne sexually satisfying his two male assailants, who came simultaneously whilst fucking him as the singer wanked himself off.

Naturally, this version never made the TV, but bootleg copies did the rounds for unspeakable sums of money. Peter Adam, it was claimed, possessed a seven minute version of the elevator rape sequence, which was exactly how long the scene took to film. Once the doors closed, three cameras tracked the action within the lift operated remotely from outside. Adam directed the movement of each camera and within the cubicle his three performers fucked hard for seven whole minutes. By the culmination, Rayne’s mouth was running with cum and the spunk trickled down his naked thighs from his own cock and the one that pulsed between his arse cheeks.

That was a set up, of course and the ‘cum’ was mayonnaise and flour and water.

After the shoot was over, Rayne Wylde paid two gay black bouncers from a nightclub to attack him in a toilet cubicle at the club and rape him for real. He shivered with perverse pleasure as they beat him bloody and ripped his clothing apart with rough hands. When he cried out in genuine pain one of them gagged him with a strip from his own shirt. Once he was unresisting and utterly submissive they forced him astride the toilet bowl and took turns to fuck him violently up the arse. He struggled and his wrists were then tied to the down pipe from the old-fashioned porcelain cistern for his pains so that his assailants did not have to hold him down.

Once they had him arranged to their satisfaction, naked except for his jewelry and boots, they operated a tag system whereby one stood and watched, masturbating vigorously as the other bucked his way into the singer’s hot, tight anus without the aid of lube. Rayne yelped and grunted, his protests muffled by the gag in his mouth. His attackers did not seem to mind. In fact, they quickly settled into a rhythm. After about five minutes, the ‘observer’ would tap his colleague on the shoulder to indicate that he was ready for some action and they swapped over. Rayne resisted the first couple of times that he felt rough fingers spreading his buttocks but by the fourth or fifth penetration his own penis was rock hard and dribbling a constant flow of cum.

As he writhed in pleasure, riding one of their chunky black dicks, they seemed to catch on to the fact that their ‘victim’ was loving his punishment and grinned at one another. Rayne was freed of his gag and his mouth quickly pulled onto the currently ‘redundant’ cock of the watchman. He sucked willingly and the bouncer’s fingers tightened in his silken black hair, pulling his erect phallus deep into the singer’s throat and pulsing hard and fast there. His colleague was thrusting away fiercely behind the lean, good looking young pop star and this time it sounded like he was going to cream himself up the kid’s well-fucked hole.

Rayne trembled with ecstasy. He was so close that it felt as though he would explode any moment now. The gold watch on the wrist of the man he was deep-throating told him that they had been screwing him for about forty minutes, non-stop. His balls felt rock hard and heavy and the tip of his cock was hot and engorged. His rectum felt stretched beyond recall but the trickling sensation of pleasure from his roughly tormented prostate more than made up for it.

The Blow Job was trying to get his nuts into Rayne’s mouth before he came. Rayne obliged him; the fellow’s cock was meaty and thick, but not long. He figured there was room for those big, black balls as well. He was almost twisted around Antalya Travesti on his side by now, with one knee on the rim of the toilet bowl and the other foot on the ground as the guy behind him rammed it in over and over, holding him firmly by the hips so that his ball sac bumped against Rayne’s as they fucked. Rayne quivered repeatedly, rapid spasms of heat and cold that made his head spin and his ears buzz with pressure. He was seeing stars as he began to cum hard; hot creamy gouts of spunk that splashed on the rim of the bog and splattered Blow Job’s trouser leg. The burly Afro-Caribbean stiffened and moaned as urgently as Rayne Wylde. A flood of hot jism welled up in the singer’s mouth, curiously sweet and spicy and he swallowed as much of it down as he could. The bouncer kept hold of his hair and Rayne did not stop sucking, it felt too good to let go.

From behind him he felt the other guy push eight and a half rock hard inches up into him hard and keep it there for the longest time. He uttered a little grunt of astonishment and release, as Rayne’s alimentary canal was abruptly pumped full of prime Jamaican semen. In the singer’s mouth, Blow Job’s cock was quickly getting hard again. He withdrew it as his colleague jacked off into the white boy’s arse hole and slipped out of him, letting the cum trickle down Rayne’s naked thighs and over his scrotum and balls.

“Ahhh… you’s a good fuck!” he gasped at last, the first words he had spoken since they dragged Rayne in here and began to kick him and strip him off.

Blow Job was still rock hard and lowered his pants now, sitting on the bowl.

“Come an’ sit on my boner, Top of the Pops,” he invited now.

As Rayne’s wrists were still fastened tightly to the pipe behind his head, this was not an easy instruction to disobey. He was pulled forcefully into his attacker’s lap with his arms around the big man’s head, his naked body close against a muscular black chest and shoulders. Strong hands lifted and parted his knees and at once he was manoeuvred down onto six chunky inches of spit and spunk-lubed dick. Rayne gasped and moaned as it slipped into him without resistance. He was grasped around the waist and eased slowly up and down on the two inch-thick phallus inside him. Immediately he began to get a hard on.

So did the other bouncer who had been watching this with hungry eyes. He stroked Rayne’s hair with one hand and his erection with the other as he stared at the naked singer with blatant longing.

“There’s a good little whore,” his colleague crooned as Rayne Wylde rode him faster and harder.

“You gonna suck me nice and clean, whore-boy?” the first asked, guiding Rayne’s dark head down to his stiffening tool. It was sticky with drying spunk, mucus and flecks of dark, dry fecal matter but Rayne had dealt with worse and he licked the Jamaican’s long, hard shaft skillfully, pausing to spit every few strokes until the tall, black bouncer grew impatient and made him swallow some cock.

“Oh yeah…” he moaned, over and over as the pretty-faced white boy gave him the best head of his life. You could see it in his face; sucking dick was almost a religious experience for this kid. He was sick in the brain for sure, but right now, his assailant did not care; watching Wylde take it was getting him so horny.

He withdrew before he was close to coming and the young man’s pale green eyes lifted to his face, puzzled and a little bit disappointed. He was as beautiful as a girl with his shoulder length, ebony bangs, rumpled and sweat-soaked and flecked with semen. There was drying cum on his lips and chin and his bare chest and the sweat ran down from his hair, mingling with it so that it dribbled from his face. He just looked so sexy; so dirty. He was totally begging for what they were gonna do to him next.

Rayne caught his breath as the taller guy moved behind him again and touched rough fingertips to his anus, bending down to look closely as his partner’s cock pumped in and out of that snug orifice. One of those fingers pressed into him suddenly and he cried out in astonishment, then another that sent him writhing upward in shock as it spread him wider. The man sitting beneath him hauled him back down again roughly and kept on pulling him down until Rayne Wylde had four probing fingers inside him, in addition to his assailant’s thrusting cock. He keened like an injured animal, tearing himself back and forth, thrashing uselessly against the tightening strip of cloth that bound his wrists, almost cutting into tender flesh as he struggled. The Jamaican stuffed the gag back into his mouth to shut him up as his rectum was stretched and manipulated. They toyed with him this way until his sphincter was elastic enough to take a second prick.

Rayne bucked and moaned incoherently as he felt the swollen, spunk-wet head nudge steadily into him from behind. He bit down on the gag and groaned huskily deep in his throat, closing his eyes tight shut as he was doubly penetrated by his merciless captors. The tall guy was straddling his colleague’s thighs, bracing himself against the other man’s legs and the toilet bowl as he urged his cock upward with long, determined thrusts that felt as if they were splitting Rayne apart. He was no virgin but this was agony and he yelped and fought them in vain as his second rapist penetrated deeper and began pulsing more urgently.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32