Alex's Profession

Chapter 1

My name is Alex; I am twenty-five years old. I am what, in innocuously polite language, is called A Male Escort, which is a mealy-mouthed name for the type of male prostitute I really am: a very up-market rent-boy, who sells his body for sexual purposes to other men. The thing which differentiates me and my ilk – for I am far from being alone in what I do for a living – from the average rent-boy, is that we male escorts – and I, in particular, thanks to my exceptional sexual endowment – are able to charge our well-heeled clients much, much more for our services.

I say our well-heeled clients,as my personal strategy has always been to concentrate my efforts on the top end of the market and leave what one might call the hoi-polloi of anal thrill seekers to others. But as in life in general, there are horses for courses. Sex is not related to wealth: rich and poor alike need it. It’s just that my target clientele is decidedly up-market and can afford to pay the eye-wateringly large sums I charge for my services, which, as I will explain later, are truly exceptional as my horse is a thorough-bred, both in appearance and performance.

I am sure that many of my co-Male Escorts, will take umbrage when I class us as male prostitutes, as prostitution is normally an activity attributed to females; but realistically, when the chips are down, that is in fact, what we are; we sell our bodies for sexual purposes as do our female counterparts. Just as men seek sex with female prostitutes, so certain men, in all walks of life, seek what I suppose we think of as gay sex with the likes of us. So calling a spade a spade, we are exactly the same as our female homologues; male or female; we both sell our bodies for sex.

I see I said: what I suppose we think of as gay sex;but this is not always the case, as several of my regular clients are happily married men – at least they claim to be both married and happy – who, nevertheless, occasionally like to have sex with another man. I am never quite sure what the relationship between an acknowledged, gay sex-worker, such as me and a straightguy, constitutes: what it should be called; if it has a name, it is one which has escaped me.

But there is an important difference between a male escort and a female prostitute whose clients are solely men willing to pay for a quick fuck. A male escort’s clients are uniquely other men; so if he is what is usually known in the trade as a full service escort, then his services include both fucking and being fucked by his clients. So in terms of his sexual services, the full service escortis faced with a question more complex than Shakespeare’s Hamlet in his famous soliloquy, which, transmogrified to meet the problems facing a male escort as he tries to determine what exactly his prospective client wants, might read as follows: “To fuck or to be fucked? That is the question.”

Of course not all male escorts offer both of the two key sexual services for which men are looking: to fuck or to be fucked. Some escorts, known as actives, simply offer the use of their cocks; they fuck their clients but do not allow their clients to fuck them. Then there are those who describe themselves as submissives, who offer uniquely their anuses rather than their cocks for sale, much as does a humble rent-boy; their clients fuck them and not vice-versa. And finally there are guys, who like me, offer both possibilities to clients. But to round out their services, some escorts, including me, also offer corporal punishment with a variety of implements, including both the traditional paddle and the dreaded rattan cane. I never cease to be amazed by the number of clients who are willing to pay extra for the doubtful – to me at least – pleasure of having their ass flogged before sex. And in such cases, the sex, when it finally occurs, involves the escrow fucking his client and not vice-versa.

In view of my generous endowment, which has brought me both fame – or do I mean notoriety? – and fortune, most of my clients want me to fuck them rather than the inverse. They come to me because they want to have their anuses reamed out by a really big penis, which I happen, by the bounty of nature, to possess. But for me, as a purveyor of sexual services, my most favourite commission is to be requested by a client to cane him prior to fucking him. I get as much pleasure from performing these two, sequential acts as does the client himself; and, to boot, I get paid for my pleasure.

What one might call the true male prostitute, a man who services women in much the same way as his female counterpart services men, is a very rare bird indeed. Nevertheless there are a few, who ply their unusual trade in discreet and luxurious, male brothels, often located in genteel areas of cities, where a lady in search of sexual congress – a polite way of saying looking for a fuck – can be sure of discretion. I won’t go into the reasons why such guys are as rare as hen’s teeth. Suffice it to say, that that indispensable piece of kit, a man’s cock, may be his most precious possession, but as we all know it has a mind of its own and will not always play ball, especially where females are concerned. So I leave it to the reader’s imagination as to the potential problems facing a man, who has been selected by a woman, whom he finds unattractive, to service her sexual needs.

As I said at the outset, my name is Alex, which is the name I use for business. My card is very discreet and gives only my name and my mobile telephone number.

Alex

Full Service Male Escort

Telephone: xxxxxxx

This card and word-of-mouth have proved enough to provide me with more clients than I can deal with; and a very lucrative living indeed. So as I have already explained above, the significance of the words, Full Service, on my card indicate that I function as both a top and a bottom; to be quite clear I fuck my clients; but I also, which is not always the case in my profession, allow my clients to fuck me – for an additional fee, of course. But it does not stop there; for as a full service escort, I also provide, what is known as CCPS – Consensual Corporal Punishment Services.

Having had my own ass paddled quite often when I was still at school, I have never understood why any man should want to feel the pain of a cane – never mind the paddle – across his naked ass prior to having sex; but quite a few do. I have to say, that I actually quite enjoy the act of applying the cane to a guy’s naked ass if, as is usually the case, I then go on to fuck him. In fact, I find that I really enjoy caning a guy and then fucking him, as both he and I get a really good fuck, for wielding the cane really turns me on sexually. You will by now have understood that the role of Male Escort, is one in which the escort gets paid for rendering a service which also gives him great pleasure. Corporal punishment and sex seem to go hand-in-hand together; at at least that’s the way it is with me.

So how did I, now aged twenty-five and at the top of my profession, ever come to be one of the best known and most sought-after male escorts in the Chicago area? The answer is, totally by accident. I was born and christened William Stanley Przewalsky in a lower-working-class neighbourhood of Chicago. In spite of my unpronounceable Polish surname, I am the fourth generation of the typical mishmash of ethnic mixing so common in the USA, which has made the country the melting pot which it today and given us the culture we call American. It has made me personally what I consider myself to be today: as American as apple-pie. My basic culture – a grand word is ever there was one – is that of a lower, working-class American, brought up in a run-down neighbourhood of one of America’s biggest cities. Note I did say was; Today by hard-work, aided by considerable, natural, physical endowment, which I have carefully nurtured, I have pulled myself out of the dump into which I was born and now lead what I consider to be a comfortable life with my partner, Carlo.

My great-grandfather, Stanislaw Przewalsky, was a Polish immigrant to America in the late nineteenth century, who eventually settled in Chicago, along with many of his countrymen. But instead of wedding a Polish girl, he married – and what a scandal that must then have caused – an immigrant from Ireland no less! But there was one minor consolation for the religiously devout Polish community; at least she was Catholic. Together they produced an only child, my ethnically half-Polish, half-Irish grandfather, to whom they gave the fascination combination of names Seamus Stanislaw. Already the family was becoming totally American as the small family spoke only English, which my great grandfather had barely mastered; or so I am told. So when he eventually died, the only thing Polish left was the family name as neither his wife nor his son spoke a word of Polish, which is a dauntingly difficult language to learn. I speak, of course, from hear-say, never having been tempted myself to attempt to learn the language of my forbears.

My grandfather, Seamus Stanislaw Przewalsky committed what I suppose Poles would consider an even greater sin than his father; he married a protestantgirl from Sweden. They too, like my great-grandfather and his wife, were fated to produce only one child: a son, my father, whom they named Sven-Erik Stanley: Sven-Erik in deference to his Swedish mother and Stanley, as I suppose, an Anglicisation of Stanislaw. On the insistence of his Swedish, protestant mother, my father was raised a protestant. So as you can see, my father, with the cumbersomely unattractive monicker of Sven-Erik Stanley Przewalsky, was already far from being a pure-blooded, devout-catholic Pole. In fact, as far as I could see, my father, who, as far as religion is concerned, is what might best be described as a devout alcoholic, with the result that I myself was never even christened or set foot in a church; although like many heathens, I have read large tracts of the Bible, am familiar with the principle biblical myths and consider myself a Christian. And, just for the record, unlike my rarely sober, alcohol-soaked father, I hardly drink at all.

When my father met and married my mother, who was of pure English extraction, with the very down-to-earth name of Jane Smith, fate again decreed that they again produce only one child, me, to whom, as I have already revealed to you, they gave the not exactly entrancing names: William Stanley. So as you can see, the Przewalsky Polish blood had been so diluted by the time I was born and that the only indication of my Polish ancestry was my unpronounceable surname. I do occasionally ask myself, in view of the unbroken line of one male child per generation, if I had ever married, whether I too would have been condemned by nature to produce but one child, a male. However in me, I am afraid that the illustrious line – if one can call it that – of the Przewalskys’ will end, as given my own, uniquely homosexual proclivities, I shall not produce any children at all.

Out of curiosity, I Googled my surname on the net, to learn that the name was originally of Russian origin. In the mid-nineteenth century a Russian named Colonel Nikolai Przhevalsky, re-discovered a wild horse, which until this day has never been domesticated and which bears my own modified Polish version of his original Russian name: Przewalski. At school I was called Pritivalsky, by the teachers and Stan, by my classmates. So you can easily understand why I chose a different business name, which, frankly, I just picked out of the blue.

I did not have a happy childhood. Frankly, my often-out-of-work, alcoholic father and my – and I hate to say this, but it is true – slovenly mother, quarrelled perpetually. Neither of them gave me any attention at all and I am not even sure if most of the time they were really aware that they had a son around the house. And school, for me, was just as bad. I was probably genetically one of those people who was never intended to study and with no encouragement from my parents, I had no had no incentive to even attempt to do well at school. Not that there was much effort expended either by the teachers to encourage their students; like many, run-down state schools in depressed inner areas of America’s big cities, my worn-out, dregs of a local high-school had difficulty in recruiting any dedicated teaching staff.

And what staff it did have were, on the whole, a set of apathetic, has-beens, who would have found it difficult, if not impossible, to get a teaching place in a better school. So they treated what was should have been a vocational occupation as a nine-to-five, repetitively boring, factory job, but with long, paid vacations. As far as I could see, not one of them cared two hoots whether their pupils learned anything not. Not surprisingly, at least half of the final year pupils, including me, left, aged eighteen, without a high-school diploma or academic qualifications of any sort. In a nutshell, my school specialised in turning out ill-educated failures, of whom, in this so-called, land of opportunities, the majority would remain at the bottom of the pile.

As the old saying has it: The devil makes work for idle hands;and itwas never truer than when applied to me. I was in constant trouble, which meant that my ass and the principal’s paddle were frequent interlocutors. The conversation for what it was, was always the same and very one-sided. It began with the paddle singing its way down, with the air whistling through the holes drilled through it, to ensure that when it came to an abrupt stop on mating with my ass, it transmitted its inimitable message both aurally, in the form of a loud crack and as a sharp pain to my poor, attendant buns.

The school’s principal, a decidedly nasty, forty-five year old, muscular bully, and I had long been sworn enemies. My punishment visits to his office, which in my younger years had been only marginally unpleasant, in that he gave me three or four swats across my trouser covered rump with the dreaded paddle, had gradually built up over the years to what might well be called concert pitch. But it all ended suddenly when I was seventeen, in a confrontation, which changed my life totally. I had been sent to him for a paddling, quite justifiably, I admit, as I had been abominably rude to an elderly female teacher, whom, for some reason I have long forgotten, I had had had the audacity to call a fucking old troutto her face.In fact ,she was an old trout, but that was no justification for me calling her that and adding that unfortunate epithet.

Well, on this occasion I was in for the quite justifiable high-jump. Trousers and underpants down, my naked ass held high across the back of a chair in the principal’s office, I was treated to a twelve stroke paddling, the severity of which, defies description. However I admitted to myself that I totally deserved the severe paddling I had just received. Assuming, after twelve painful swats, that he had finished roasting my buns, I made as if to stand up, only to be told to stay down as he said – and these his very words: “Stay exactly as you are, Pritivalsky, I haven’t done with you yet; you, boy, need to be taught a real lesson; and I am, right now, just in the mood to do it.”

The next thing I knew was that his hands were on my painful, naked buns and his fingers were descending into my crack and then into my anus, which I felt they were attempting to stretch open. I then heard what was clearly a trouser zip being undone, to be followed a few seconds later by the feel of the moist tip of his cock pushing against my anal entry port.

Aged seventeen, as then I was, this was my first, live experience of sex. I was, in every sense of the word, still a physical virgin; but with my schoolmates, at our age, sex was a key topic of discussion and with internet access to porn sites, which I surreptitiously investigated in the school’s computer room, I was sufficiently up to speed with an understanding of the mechanics of sex to know that I was in the process of being anally raped. But with the principal on top of me, holding me firmly down, his clear experience and superior weight made short work of my muscular resistance as he roughly pushed what felt like a foot-long stick into my rectum. And then, having just given my ass a monumental paddling, he proceeded to give my hole an equally sound pummelling with what felt like a jackhammer; I speak figuratively, of course, as I had no experience of ever having

been fucked by a jackhammer – or even a guy’s cock for that matter.

Losing my anal virginity in such a dramatic and unexpected way, was quite an experience, which was made even more so by the fury with which he attacked my hole. Like a man possessed – perhaps he was – he thrust his penis roughly in and out of my rectum with ever increasing speed and force until he suddenly withdrew himself completely before vigorously thrusting his full length back inside me, at which point, he climaxed and dumped his entire load into me in a series of heavy, ejaculative jerks. As I felt his warm jism being injected into me, I suddenly realised that his pounding had also brought me to a state of sexual arousal; and if I did not myself have an actual orgasm, I felt my own penis, which had already become hard from the paddling, exuding drops of cum. Why, I wondered, is it that corporal punishment and sex seem to be such indissociable mates?

When he was finally done with me, the principal said: “Well there you are, boy; that should have taught you a lesson. Now, pull your pants up and get out of here.” As I was pulling up my underpants I suddenly felt something wet on my fingers, which I saw was his semen, speckled with drops of my blood, leaking out of my anus! The bastard had fucked my ass so hard that he had ruptured my skin somewhere internally and I was leaking his blood-flecked semen from my anus. It was at that moment I saw red and lashed out verbally at him.

“You may be the head of this school, but do you know what you are? Well, let me tell you; you are the worst kind of bastard; the worst kind of pervert: a fucking paedophile. You have just violated one of your pupils and you know as well as I do that I am nowhere near the age of consent. You took a seventeen-year-old boy, whose ass you had just paddled almost to death and then raped him. Moreover, not only have you violated my ass, but you have fucked me so hard that you have left me bleeding from my hole. What a bullying, fucking bastard you really are. And d’you know what I am going to do right now? Well I’m going straight to the police and I’m going to tell them what you have just done to me. And d’you know what they will do? They will get a doctor to examine me and patch up the damage you have done to my ass with your fucking cock and they will see that I am telling the truth and you will be arrested and gaoled in a prison for sex offenders for violating a minor.”

“You will not get away with denying it, as they will take a sample of your spunk from inside me and do a DNA test on it, which will prove that I am telling the truth. And you know what men in prison do to men like you when they learn what you did to an under-age boy like me? Well they will fuck the living daylights out of your ass whilst the guards look on in pleasure; and then you will see for yourself what it feels like to be raped really hard until you bleed. It’s just exactly what you deserve, you filthy pervert.”

On and on I railed, totally consumed by, and unable to control my raging anger at what he had done to me. How I found the courage or the words, as a seventeen-year-old to say the things I did, I have no idea; but the fact of the matter is that I did. And after I had finished my diatribe against him, I saw from the pallor of his face that he was much shaken; I had got through to him; my comments had hit home and he was visibly frightened to the core at the thought of the potential consequences of what he had just done. I did not know whether I was the only boy whom he had raped from among his pupils, but I suspected at he was a serial paedophile and that I was just one of many; but I was determined that he would never touch me again.

Complete silence reigned for a few moments after I had finished berating him. Then, in an attempt to save his skin, he suddenly became all sweet light and in a wheedling sort of voice said: “Stanley, I really don’t know what possessed me to do what I just did to you; it’s something I have never done before, which I now deeply regret, young man; and I am truly sorry if I have hurt you But before you go rushing off to the police, could we not discuss the matter, man-to-man so to speak, and come to some arrangement between us, without involving anyone else?”

Sensing that I had the upper-hand, I said: “I don’t believe a word you have just said, you bastard; it’s a load of stinking garbage and you are just a fucking, bullying, lying pervert. We both know (I had no idea whether it was true or not, but I said it anyway) that I am not the first boy you have raped and I intend to make you pay for what you have just done to me. You are nothing but a fucking paedophile; a rapist, hiding behind your position as a schoolteacher. No, I’m off to the police right now. Your days as a school teacher are numbered and you will soon find yourself behind bars which are exactly where a fucking lump of shit like you belongs.”

By this time I could see that the principal was in a blind panic as he attempted to control himself: In the most emollient of tones, he began: “Look here, Stan,” Stanley had now become Stan, which is what my schoolmates called me, “There is really no reason for this unfortunate business to go any further as it might be bad for both of us. After all, people might think that you egged me on to do what I did. There are boys your age who do that, you know. Look, why don’t we come to some sort of arrangement? I could make it worth your while if you would agree to let me the whole matter drop.”

“What d’you mean, when you say that you could make it worth my while if I let the matter drop? You have just fucked me and made me bleed; and now you want to come to some arrangement with me to let the matter drop. Well you can stick that idea where a monkey keeps its nuts. You still don’t get it yet, do you, you jerk? I’m going to the police: and you’re going to gaol.”

“Now look here, Stan; let’s not be hasty; there is really no need for the police become involved. I am sure you could use a little extra cash to supplement your pocket money. So if I were to give you, say, $100, how about it; could we consider the incident closed?”

I saw that I now had him firmly by the short and curlies; so I went in for the kill. I knew, even then, aged but seventeen, that I should have stuck to my guns and done as I had threatened: gone to the police and taken this man out of circulation. But having practically no cash, as my father grudgingly gave me minimal pocket money, I succumbed to the temptation and decided to attempt to extract the maximum from him. I realise later, as my conscience constantly reminded me, that this had not been my finest hour, as what I did smacked of blackmail. But he had violated me and had changed me forever, so I set about screwing him financially as hard as he had screwed me physically and damaged my anus. I later tried to assuaged my conscience, which was really bothering me about what I had done, by telling myself – and it, as if one can talk to one’s conscience – that this was a one off payment and that I would not go back for more.

I really wanted to kick the principal in the teeth for what he had one to me, but instead of getting violent, I stormed on contemptuously: “Screw you, you fucking pervert; you are living in cloud cuckoo land, you fucking pederast, if you think you can buy me off for $100 after what you have just done to me. You deserve to be gaoled for what you did; so you can stick your $100 up your ass; as I told you, I’m off to the police and you are going to gaol for what you did to me. And once the police get their hands on you, it will all come out exactly how many of us boys you have raped over the years. Frankly you couldn’t buy me off for ten times the money you have just offered me.”

I had, of course, no idea whether what I had just said about his sodomising other boys in addition me was correct or not; but judging from the look of sheer desperation on his face, which indicated that he was figuratively on the verge of shitting bricks, I knew that I had hit a home run. He had desperation written large across his face as he contemplated how much I would accept to drop the matter; so he upped his offer and said: “So if I were to offer you $1000 to drop the matter, that wouldn’t interest you?”

Invigorated by the release of adrenaline and by now on a high, I went on relentlessly and pressed home my advantage. Just think of it; I, a seventeen-year-old schoolboy, swearing like a trooper, was daring to face down the principal of my school for grave wrongdoing; and moreover, I knew I had him on the run; and even more importantly, he knew that I had him on the run. From the look of panic on his face, I knew knew that everything I had just said to him was correct. So I continued: “If you think you can buy my silence to avoid a twenty-year stretch behind bars for a mere $1000, you, asshole, had better think again. Buggering under-age boys is a serious crime for which and you will find yourself locked up for a long time ifI go to the police.”

He had clearly latched onto the word, if, when I had said: if I go to the police.In that one word, he saw that I had indicated that I was willing to negotiate. So he said: “Well, as you think $1000 is not enough to buy your silence – his very words – how much do you think is enough for us to settle this affair amicably?” Now, for the first time time since I had begun venting my spleen on him, I felt slightly uncertain of my ground. I knew that I should have gone straight to the police; I knew that this man was a dangerous paedophile and should be taken out of circulation. But the lure of money, to an impecunious boy like me, who had barely ten cents to his name, was enough to make me stray from the straight and narrow. So the question now was, just how much was he prepared to pay me for my silence.

Already I had a firm offer of $1000, which I can tell you, to a boy like me, was an enormous, undreamed-of sum. But he had asked me how much would be enough to keep me quiet, so I said: “Well, I if you double your offer, we have a deal.”

He thought for a moment before deciding to settle. So he said: “OK, you fucking little extortionist; we have a deal; I will pay you $2000 to buy your silence. Come back here at the end of the school day and I will have the cash to give to you then. You will understand that I do not have such a large sum of cash on me, so unless you want me to write you a check right now, I need time to go to the bank.”

“OK, I’ll see you after school. But have the cash available in tens and twenties; I don’t want any fifty and hundred dollar bills. And don’t try to cheat me. After school today, I want $2000 cash on the nail, otherwise I go straight to the police and tell them what you did to me. And don’t think that you can weasel your way out of it by telling the police that I was attempting to blackmail you, which is just hear-say. Remember that I have proof positive of what you did to me inside of me still: your fucking spunk mixed with my blood!”

That evening with two-hundred crisp $10 bills in my school-bag, I walked home as if on air. I was rich beyond my wildest dreams. It was more or less then that I formulated a plan, which was to come to fruition only a year later when I reached eighteen and finally became my own man. I would save my money and the day I reached my majority, I would leave both my parents, for whom I cared as little as they had cared for me over the years, together with the miserable place I had called home all my life and strike out on my own. So for the next year-and-a-bit, I worked Saturday all day and all my vacations at the local supermarket as general dogsbody, a gofer, and saved more or less all the pittance they paid me. So by the time I was eighteen I had nickel and dimed my savings into $4000, all of which I kept concealed from my parents as I was sure that my alcohol-soddended father, given half a chance, would have taken the lot and spent it on booze.

Chapter 2

I suppose that I was about fourteen when I first realised that I had eyes only for members of my own sex. The school I attended, having no access to playing fields, had no organised sports other than basket-ball, which was played in the run-down school’s equally run-down gym. But I took every opportunity I could to watch the older boys playing and to try to imagine what they looked like naked in the showers. I have already told you how little interested I was in learning anything at all; but I was keen gymnast and looked forward to the twice weekly PE classes, which were taken by the youngest member of the school’s staff, the only person among the entire lot of the school’s teaching staff who still seemed to be alive.

In fact, from the age of fourteen onward, I had become visually totally obsessed with the male body. Whereas my classmates had already started looking at soft-porn magazines and viewing videos on the internet of naked women being fucked and sucking cock, I had eyes only for young, muscular men. But let me be quite clear; my taste was not for those steroid enhanced monsters weighing half a ton – I exaggerate – with bulging, balloon-like muscles. Indeed my taste was essentially for well-ripped natural looking bodies, which owed their beauty to hard work and a sensible, hamburger-and-French-fries-free-diet which avoided any chemical stimulants whatsoever.

The involuntary loss of my anal virginity to the school’s principal when I was seventeen, although a shock, set me thinking. Although I already knew that I was what I suppose might best be described as a gay-guy in waiting, my only sexual activity beyond thinking about what I would like to do, had been in jerking off; and jerking off in private in my own bed, as I had never even got so far as having any joint masturbation sessions with any of my classmates. I knew that I was, by any standards, well equipped with the necessary tackle as I was regularly enviously chivvied by my classmates in the showers after gym, that I was hung like a horse and should be careful not to trip over my dong.

Already, at seventeen I was blessed with the biggest cock of anyone in my class, which included three African Americans, who as black guys are always reputed to out-class us whites as far as size is concerned. Well, I am not being boastful – well, perhaps I am a bit – when I tell you that size-wise I outdid even them. But there was one other thing besides my impressive size of my endowment, which set me apart from my classmates. In a country where most men, are circumcised shortly after birth, my penis was still totally intact; not only was it uncut, but it was embellished by the longest, most outrageously oversized piece of foreskin imaginable. My sizeable cockhead was generously clothed in this membranous prepuce, which followed the contours of my corona and faithfully profiled the head. But it did not finish there, as the end of the skin continued like a nozzle for well over an inch, generously covering my piss-slit, making my cock, when it was erect look like a huge syringe.

So perfectly contoured was my foreskin to my cockhead and its rim that these important aspects of my kit, looked almost as if they had been shrink-wrapped. But as my foreskin extended, nozzle like, a good inch beyond my cockhead, my man-meat looked even longer than its true speaking length, which was already an impressive seven inches long, even when soft. But even well equipped as I was, and enviously admired by my classmates, the presence of that massive foreskin made me feel uncomfortable. I felt that I was the odd man out; no, let me correct that; I wasthe odd man out. Like all teenagers I worshipped at the altar of conformity –you know; the right brand of trainers; the right T shirt and so on – and so I felt as if I was deformed.

I was not, of course, deformed, as my penis was the way that nature had intended it to be. But I absolutely hated the fact that my cockhead was clothed in what had become, in my eyes, that loathsome tube of foreskin. “Oh why, oh why,” I lamented silently to myself, “Had I not been cut at birth like all the other guys I knew?” And then there was the question of my balls; basically they were of a size commensurate with my penis; but somehow, to me, they hung a little too low; they sort of flapped in the breeze; what I really wanted was them to be held more tightly against the root of my cock.

Although I had been raped and suffered minor damage from the attack on my anus, viewed in retrospect, in a somewhat cooler light, the fact of the matter was that I now realised I had actually enjoyed being fucked. And so I came to terms with the fact, which had been staring me in the face for some time, that I was gay and that I desperately wanted to have sex with another guy; so unless I wanted to remain a lone masturbator all my life, I had better do something about it. I don’t know if any of my classmates knew that I was gay. I certainly did not see any partner among them with whom I could explore what I perceived to be the delights of gay sex, with which I was visually, if not physically, intimately familiar from the internet porn sites.

Fate was kind to me, for spurred on by my admiration for well-ripped studs, whose bodies I wished to emulate, I had commenced serious training in the gym after school hours, with a view to making my own body look like one of my many internet idols. The school allowed us older boys to use the gym and the showers for two hours in the early evening, three times a week after classes finished at four. We were then a base group of five boys who regularly worked out, three evenings a week, two of whom were a year younger than me and two a year older. But from time to time we were joined by other guys, who came intermittently, and worked out in the gym.

That is how I first met Carlo Brenner, an American of Italo-German extraction, whom I knew instantly, from the moment I first set eyes on him, was the stud with whom I would like to break sexual bread for the first time. But the question, to which I had no immediate answer, was: was he, like me, gay? There is a saying; it takes one to know one.Well all I can say is that as an undeclared gay myself at the time, I had no idea at all whether my putative partner was of the same sexual orientation as me or not. All I knew was that I myself wanted to have sex with him at first sight. I suppose I was like a dog, scenting a bitch on heat and wanted Carlo just as much as a dog wants the bitch.

He was a year ahead of me in the school and I had seen him around, but never really taken much notice of him until I saw him in his gym kit for the first time that evening. Then the attraction suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. He was sinfully handsome in a way that few men are; he had inherited his fair complexion and height from his German father; but thanks to an Italian mother, his face was reminiscent of that of young men one sees in Florentine renaissance paintings. And what a superb combination it was; his gorgeously handsome features enhanced his already superb musculature. Beauty, it is said, is in the eyes of the beholder; well believe me when I say as the beholder, I found Carlo incredibly attractive; exactly my idea of a perfect young stud. Never having spoken a word to him, I prayed that he would be of the same sexual orientation as me.

I had noticed Carlo before he had seen me; in fact, from the moment he had come into the gym, I had had my eyes riveted on him. Then he suddenly turned and saw me and we found ourselves gazing at each other; and as our eyes met for the first time, I knew from the look he gave me, that the gods were with me; with both of us, I suppose; for in that brief exchange of looks, I divined immediately that he was my alter ego, a kindred spirit; he and I were cast in the same mould; or better put, in view of what homosexual relationships involve physically, like two halves of a cleanly broken whole, which when brought together mate perfectly.

How does one know these things? Well the fact of the matter is that one just does; or more exactly put: I just did. As I looked at him and he looked at me, I sensed that he, like me, knew immediately what we both wanted. In my mind, it was all already done and dusted: a fait-accompli;it was just a question of overcoming the awkwardness of our first meeting and getting down to talking turkey. We had not yet met; not even exchanged a single word, you understand; but I just knew, with no shadow of doubt, that the outcome was a foregone conclusion.

As a naïve young gay, totally inexperienced, I had no idea how to make my wishes known to this God-given object of my sexual desires. How did I begin to express my most earnest wish: both to fuck him and be fucked by him? Anyway, to cut to the chase, it was all taken out of my hands when, as we went to shower, Carlo took the initiative and said: “Hi, Stan; I’m Carlo; we know each other only by sight; correct me if I am wrong, but from the way you’ve been giving me the glad eye for the last half-hour, unless I’ve totally misread you, you are seriously looking for action. And when I say action, I presume you know what I am talking about.”

What was I supposed to say in answer to this? Here I was sexually totally inexperienced, being offered sex by my dream guy, more or less on a plate; and I really had no idea what to answer. But my suspicions that Carlo wanted me just as much as I wanted him were confirmed as he went on. “I guess from your shyness that you are probably beginner; but you can relax, as I am not a man-eater, whatever you may have hard about me (I had heard not a word). In fact, I am considered by the guys who know me, to be really gentle. So why don’t we get into the shower and then go together and have a burger some place where we can exchange our life histories so far. Then, if I have not frightened you off with my descriptions of my dastardly deeds, we can take it from there. Of course, if you are still shit scared about taking the first step, which from the way you have been looking at me, I suspect you desperately want to take; we can call it a day and part friends.”

By the time Carlo and I got to the showers, our classmates were already in the changing room getting dressed to leave; so we had the showers to ourselves. Neither of us was shy in stripping off in front of the other, but I did ask myself when before had two prospective… What is the word I am looking for; certainly not lovers? You know, I cannot find one single word accurately to describe what we were at that moment in time, other than two guys who had just met and between whom the immediate attraction had been so strong that they both were already lusting over the thought of having sex with the other.…guysstripped off for mutual inspection of each other’s credentials before taking a decision on whether to fornicate together. Ostensibly we were there to wash away the sweat of our exertions and that is exactly what we did; but we looked one another over to see if we approved of what we saw, before, figuratively speaking, committing to buying the merchandise on display.

And for me, at least, what a mouth-watering display it was! Carlo was one year older than me –he still is! – but he and I were about the same height and the fact that we both worked out regularly showed, as we were both already well on the road to that much desired look, which is usually referred to as well-ripped. And as we were both physically mesomorphic, we were already a well-matched pair, both within spitting distance of that much desired goal of ripped, muscular perfection. But the great revelation was that naked as we now were, we were able to inspect each other’s vital parts,hitherto hidden under our gym shorts. I had no qualms myself about showing off my own kit, which although as yet unshared sexually with anyone except my own hand, I considered, with no false modesty, eminently fit-for-purpose. I knew from regular visual comparisons with my classmates in the showers after PE class, that I possessed what I secretly and proudly thought of as a world-class cock. Uncut, it was true, and grossly over-endowed with foreskin; but, if ever push came to shove, as now appeared might be the case, when primed for purpose, it was nevertheless visually, a mouth-wateringly attractive piece of man-meat to be reckoned with.

Whilst Carlo was taking in, and hopefully approving of what I had to offer, I was making the same sort of evaluation of his kit. I had never envisaged that I would be confronted with such a splendid sight; so much so that I felt my own meat stirring as I feasted my eyes on his magnificent piece of sexual equipment. Now I was proud enough of my own offering; but Carlo’s too, was quite inspirational, not to mention arousing! His balls were held high close to his body, which was what I really liked. And then his phallus, which must have been at least seven inches in length, descended in a graceful, rubbery arc over his balls. The girth was commensurate with its length, and was something just over two inches in diameter and had been perfectly circumcised, setting off what was a huge cockhead with a well defined rim from the shaft. I was utterly stunned by what I was seeing and wondered what on earth this already mouth-watering piece of man-meat would look like when it was hard erect and ready for action.

Then I, the shrinking violet that I had always thought I was, a young man who had never ever sexually touched another man – or a woman, for that matter – simply could not resist the temptation offered by the proximity of such a magnificent piece of delectable flesh, suddenly had the courage of my convictions. So I knelt in front of Carlo under the running water of the shower, took the head of his flaccid penis in my mouth and proceeded to suck him off. Carlo did nothing to resist and within a few seconds of contact, I felt his cock hardening as he helped me in my task to suck him off to orgasm by gently face-fucking me, which sort of indicated how ready he had been to have his cock serviced; and not only serviced; but serviced by me.

When he climaxed, which happened without warning and much sooner than I had expected, I took the copious gobbets of semen, which he ejaculated with tremendous force in several spasmic jerks, directly across my face and in my mouth. I was in seventh heaven as I tasted another man’s jism for the very first time and a sense of euphoria coursed through my body as I realised that I had myself taken the first step to initiate sexual contact between us.

Carlo sprayed water from the shower over my face to wash away the remnants of his own creamy emission. “There you go; that really wasn’t so difficult, was it? I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. So now that you have got me aroused and in the mood for a fuck, I may as well continue.” Then, without saying another word he turned off the shower, pulled me to my feet, applied a little soap to his dick which was still rock-hard from my efforts and really was a magnificent sight to behold in all its rampant glory: truly a piece of man-meat fully worthy of the epithet, fuck-stick. Having lubricated himself with soap, he then spun me around and whispered into my ear: “Spread your legs a bit so can get my shaft into you.” I willingly complied with his request and then with no hesitation, he slid his huge, hard manhood gently into my anus and proceeded to fuck me, standing there in the shower stall, with long gentle strokes, until he brought both me and himself to orgasm simultaneously within a few brief minutes.

As he climaxed, I felt him pumping his second, massive load of spunk of the evening; this time into my rectum. Until now, I had never experienced an orgasm and ejaculated my own sperm other than by jerking myself off. So when I too climaxed at the same time as Carlo, that brief, but exquisitely wonderful feeling, which coursed through my body as I shot my own load, was so much more intense than I had ever before generated alone under my own steam. I was astounded at both the explosive violence with which I expressed my own seed, as well as the quantity I produced; it seemed as if my jerking out of thick, viscous gobbets of my own cum would never end.

Of course, it was all over in few seconds; but what a seemingly endless age those few seconds had been for me! I shall never, ever forget that first orgasm induced by what had been my first act of consensual sex with another man. In my naivety, I had not until then realised what a rewarding act allowing another man to fuck me, could be. Somehow I had always imagined my first experience – and I knew it would have to happen one day soon – would be of me fucking another guy and not the inverse. I had had no idea at all until it actually happened to me that it was possible for a bottom, as I soon learned was gay-speak for the role I had just played, to be fucked through to orgasm by his partner. I had seen lots of porn videos where guys fucked one another. What normally seemed to happen was that the guy performing the act, who, in my naivety, I only now learned from Carlo, was called the top,banged away frenetically at his partner’s ass, the bottom, before finally withdrawing his cock and proceeding to jerk himself off manually to completion.

So it was a revelation to me, being fucked for the first time – I discounted the rape – to find that Carlos, my first-ever, sex partner, took both of us through to simultaneous climaxes. I had a lot to learn about gay sex; no, let me restate that as it truly was; at that very moment, I had everything to learn about gay sex. And I mentally thanked my lucky star that I seemed, by chance, to have fallen on my feet, as I would have Carlo to teach me. And lessons had already begun, as Carlo turned on the shower to wash my spunk off the tiles of the shower stall. As I was to learn, Carlo had a neat and tidy frame of mind, which as I got to know him better, I saw he always practised. And I am happy to say that with him as my mentor, his habits have rubbed off onto me.

Chapter 3

We sat at a small table in the hamburger joint greedily wolfing down what should really have been considered forbidden food, given our obvious shared objective of honing our bodies to the peak of physical perfection. It does seem to be a fact that once you get yourself hooked on something, you live and sleep it. And until I met Carlos, working-out in the school gym to achieve a well ripped look, had become the be-all and end-all of my life. However that was to change with a vengeance as I prepared to add another string to my bow: gay sex!

I had already brought Carlo up to speed on my quasi-non-existent sex life – if you could even call it that. With some considerable embarrassment I had finally concluded, somewhat nervously: “So you see that other than the two times I have had my ass fucked, the first time by being raped and the second time by you just this evening, other than the blow job I did on you, that is the sum total of my sexual experiences with another warm body to date.” I had not revealed to Carlo the name of the person who had raped me, nor that I had finessed a considerable sum of money from the perpetrator. But Carlo was curious to hear more about what had been my first, albeit unexpected and unwilling, sexual encounter with another man. I really had not wanted to go any further, but Carlo persisted until he eventually had wheedled out of me, chapter and verse of exactly what had happened.

I had told Carlo I had been raped at school, which was his first clue. But once he had the scent, he was like a blood-hound and went on relentlessly until he had pieced together the whole story. “So you were raped at school. Just let me guess by whom; and I bet I am right first time. It was our revered principal who shafted you, wasn’t it? Come on Stan; ’fess up; I am right, aren’t I? He’s an absolute piece of shit, who makes a habit of fucking any lad whose ass takes his fancy when he’s finished paddling it in his office. I bet a dime to a dollar, that is what happened to you. He paddled you, didn’t he and then went on and fucked you?”

“Carlo, how did you know it was the principal who fucked me? You’re spot on, in fact; but how did you guess?”

“Easy my friend; it is a well known fact that the guy is a serial boy- molester. Just let me tell you something; he also raped me after a paddling he gave me when I was only fifteen. What beats me is that no one ever denounces the guy for what he is: a pederast; a guy who preys on his pupils and who, quite frankly, should be behind bars. How he gets away with it time after time, God alone knows. But you and I are just the tip of the iceberg; he’s been at it for years. But that’s the way things happen; the victims, the likes of you and me, are both too frightened and too ashamed of what happened to them that they keep silent. And so, lumps of perverted shit like our principal get away with it. Believe me, Stan, he’s not the only one in the teaching profession, who fucks his pupils. There are lots of them all over this country; and the sad thing is that most of them get away with what they are doing as their victims, like you and I, are just too damned scared to say anything.”

So I told Carlo that what he had guessed was, in fact, really what had happened to me. I also told him that I had been so violently assaulted by the school principal that I was bleeding from my anus when he finally let me go. “I deserved the paddling for what I had said in anger to the woman teacher, but not what he did to me afterwards.”

Carlo then said: “So even after what was a very severe traumatic introduction to anal sex, you still allowed me to do the same to you just now.”

“But Carlo, what we just did together was quite different; it was something quite wonderful; at least for me, it was. I knew that I wanted to have sex with you from the instant our eyes met in the gym; and I guessed from the way you were looking back at me, that you wanted the same. You see, Carlo, I do think that there is some chemistry between us, which made us want each other for the moment our eyes first met. And as things have turned out so far you have to admit that I was right. Well I suppose that you could say I was sort of right. After all we have just had sex together, even though it was you fucking me and not the other way round. And you did let me give you a blow job, which is the first time I have ever touched another guy sexually; that is, if we disregard the rape.”

“Come on, Stan, let’s get back to my place and we will try to even out the score and let your cock see some action too.”

“So what about your parents? You can’t just take me to your house and tell them that you have brought home a guy you have just met and that you and he are going to spend the evening having sex together.”

“One way or another, I guess that they are going to have to find out sometime that their only child, their son and heir, is gay and that they will not have any have any grandchildren to look forward to. But you are quite right Stan; tonight is not the time to tell them. However, fret not your little head, as the house will be totally empty apart from you, me and the cat! You see, my father is a long-distance truck driver and he’s away on a six day trip to LA. And my mother is a nurse at Cooke County Hospital and is on nights this month. So we shall have the place to ourselves; so as we are not intending to be good, we had better be careful. Now move your ass and let’s get going, as we are wasting valuable copulation time sitting around here chewing the fat and we have a lot to get through, if I am to teach you which end is up when it comes to gay sex before tomorrow morning,” he concluded with a laugh.

I have to say, compared to the slovenly place in which I myself lived with my parents, the Brenner house, located in the same run-down neighbourhood, south of the Chicago Loop, where I myself lived, was an eye-opener to me. The house, which was no bigger than our place, was a revelation. The whole place was clean and tidy and in good order and when we went upstairs to Carlo’s bedroom, where what was to be my master-class in gay sex was to take place, as soon as I entered his room, I saw immediately that, here too Ordnung, that sense of order, which people of German ancestry often have, reigned.

I had already had a foretaste, of Carlo’s attention to detail in the showers, when he had taken the trouble to wash away all traces of my copious emission of semen, leaving the tiles where it had landed clean. But whereas I tended to leave my clothes scattered around the floor in my room at home, Carlo obviously put his things away, as no clutter at all, not even his pyjamas – did he wear any, I wondered – were visible. And in contradistinction to my own bed, which was never made, his was neat and tidy. I realised, as I took all this in, that I had entered a totally different world and was with a guy who held himself to standards radically different from those to which I had hitherto lived myself.

As I was a guest in his house, I waited for him to make the first move. We both knew why we were there together, but in spite of our immediate previous intimacy, there was, as ever, a slight awkwardness in getting underway with the activity, which we both knew we desired. Our first sexual congress together in the showers had developed quite naturally. I, craving sex, had been so seduced by the sight of Carlo’s magnificent nakedness that I had spontaneously fallen to my knees in front of him and given him a blow job, which had then led, quite naturally it had seemed, to his shafting my anus. But here, in the cold light of his bedroom, things were anything but spontaneous.

So after a moment’s silence, it was again me, the beginner in search of enlightenment in the ways of gay sex, who took the initiative. It seemed to me, that the most important thing was to establish body contact between us as I had done in the shower, sucking him off. But here we both were, fully clothed, and standing awkwardly apart, although it was patently evident that our mission that evening was one which required both of us to be naked; so as a start I went up to Carlo, threw my arms around his neck, kissed him fully on the lips and whispered into his ear: “Come on Carlo, as you said a little while ago, we are wasting valuable fucking time; so let’s get started.” And by way of encouragement, I took the bottom hem of his torso-hugging T shirt in my hands and started to pull it off over his head.

How I, the pupil, as it were, had found the courage to make such a dramatic move – well it seemed dramatic to me at the time – I do not know; but I did. And what is more, it did the trick and broke the silent barrier between us, which had appeared as if out of nowhere. In seconds both Carlo and I had shed all our clothes; and as those ever faithful indicators of sexual readiness between our legs were already telling us, we were all primed to go. Looking at Carlo as he stood there in all his glory, his massive cock totally rigid held at an angle of 45 degrees to his belly, I could not believe my good fortune that I was and about to relinquish what was left of my virginity, by sinking my cock into the anus of such a gorgeous stud.

But it was now Carlo, who was again in control, as he said formally to me, making his words sound like those, which I, an utter heathen who had never been in a church in his life, imagined a priest saying to boy about to make his first holy communion: “Stan, this is a unique moment in your life; one, which you will remember, and I hope, cherish, for the rest of your days. You are about to surrender your virginity to me, which I consider to be a great honour. Enjoy the occasion; it’s a unique act, which a man can only ever do once in his life; once done, it’s gone forever and can never be repeated.”

And what he said was quite true; it was a unique occasion, one which any man can experience but once in his life. But the words Carlo had used to express his thoughts on the subject were delivered in such a way as to imbue them with an almost religious significance. And I suppose he was right in his thinking; for that first act of sexual intercourse for a young man of my age, whether with another man or with a woman, marks the end of his boyhood; he has become a man and can never, ever recover his boyhood.

“Listen, Stan, you’re completely new to this game, which, let me tell you before you begin, is much like gambling; it is completely addictive; once you have tasted the pleasure it gives you, you can never get enough of it. There is a saying which goes: sex is a toy, which never, ever, fails to please. Well, never was a truer word ever spoken.Believe me, Stan, and I speak as a confirmed gay, who is a regular practitioner of what I consider to be the noble art of anal copulation, both as a top and a bottom. Since I started fucking a couple of years ago, anal sex has become an absolutely indispensible part of my life; I simply cannot live without it. And let me just say that since I started copulating regularly, I have never been happier. You have already tasted the delights of having your ass fucked for the first time; and I think it is safe to say from your reaction that you enjoyed the experience. I am, of course, speaking of my own efforts and not the rape you endured from our beloved principal. So let’s try and get you up to speed so that you can consider yourself a fully operative gay.”

“Now I have told you that I am particularly careful every time I have sex with anyone in view of the risk of HIV; so I always use a condom when I fuck a guy and when a guy fucks me, I always insist that he use a condom. But it goes further than that; gay sexual intercourse, if done properly and taken through to its natural conclusion, which is what I did to you in the shower, inevitably leads to the bottom guy also having an orgasm and spraying his cum everywhere, as you did just now in the shower. And so I always insist that both parties to the act, both top and bottom, use a condom to avoid infection and for both top and bottom and to allow the guy who is the bottom to catch his jism and not spray it everywhere.”

“I know, I know, I know exactly what you are going to say: we didn’t use condoms just now. But that was because what we did was not planned; it was entirely spontaneous; when we went into the shower, I had no idea at all that you were going to give me a blow job, which got me all aroused, with the delightful consequences for both of us, which ensued entirely as a result of your impromptu action. Now as you had never had sex with anyone other than our principal, I don’t think there was any risk for either of us. But what I wanted to tell you is that taking you bare-back as I did, I had the most tremendous orgasm I can ever remember having; and believe me Stan, I’ve been around for a while and have had plenty.”

“As I was not using a rubber, I filled you up with my cream, which serves no useful purpose as it might have done had you been a female. But psychologically, I think it did fulfil a purpose: it created a physical bond between us, as part of me was inside of you. So I want you to do the same for me when you have your very first fuck a few minutes from now and surrender forever the virginity of your cock to my anus. I want you to do it bareback and shoot your wad into me so that I have part of you inside of me. That way we shall have established a unique bond between us.”

I was astonished by what I had just heard. Here was a man, a sexually highly active gay, who had had sex, and who, I presumed still intended to go on having sex, with multiple partners, wanting to establish what he called a physical bondbetween us. For me personally, seeing Carlo for the first time across the gym floor, it had been a case of love at first sight. Now, I had discerned from the way he had returned my look in the gym that he was interested in me. But could it be that Carlo was as smitten by me as I was by him?

It seemed to be the inevitable conclusion to be drawn from his remarks. Couple this with what he had just said to me: “I had the most tremendous orgasm I can ever remember having.”Even to me, naïve as I was in matters sexual, it did seem that we had somehow established a remarkable bond between us; and this, based on one blow job and one bout of anal copulation, in which he had fucked me. But now he was proposing that I, on what was to be my maiden act of copulation, should deposit my semen inside of him to establish a bond between us. Was I hearing this aright? This was the stuff fairy stories were made of.

But Carlo was still not done with his discourse, as in a clinical sort of way, as if he wanted to leave nothing to chance, he went on to instruct me on how I should approach his anus with my penis in what was to be my maiden fuck, in which I was destined to surrender my last vestige of my somewhat disjointed virginity to him.

“Probably the most important thing about fucking butt is adequate lubrication. You see, Stan, unlike the female vagina, which automatically lubricates itself to facilitate penetration by the guy’s cock, a guy’s anal passage does not auto-lubricate when being fucked. So you always need to use a lubricant before penetration. That’s why, when the principal raped you, he drew blood. And once you get inside your partner, make haste slowly. Think of it like this; gay, anal copulation is not a speed-trial, in which you see how quick you can fuck yourself to climax; it is an act design to give the ultimate pleasure of orgasm to both top and bottom partners.”

“Now as this will be your first time, you may climax prematurely and not be able to take me through to orgasm. But don’t worry; just shoot your load into to me as I want to have part of you inside of me just as you have my jism inside of you; I know it’s absurd; but that’s what I want; so just accept it; I feel it will somehow bind us closer together. But, Stan, whenever you have sex with a guy and are the top, whoever he is and even if it is just a one-night-stand, your aim should always be to take both of you to a simultaneous climax. Now most casual encounters never achieve this state of perfection. In fact, sex as a recreational activity between guys who have just met in a bar or club or somewhere and might never see one another again, usually ends up with both top and bottom jerking themselves off to completion; so neither of them really benefits from the ultimate pleasure of the act, which nevertheless, when well performed, is probably the most enjoyable pastime in which a gay man can indulge.”

I wondered how many prospective first-timershad ever been given the benefit of such a verbal teach-in on the dos and don’ts of anal sex. I suppose that for a moment, I was put off my stride by such a detailed tutorial prior to what was to be my maiden sexual experience as a top with Carlo. But once he was finished with his discourse, he tore open the foil of a Trojan condom packet and rolled the rubber onto his own massively erect dick. He handed me a tube of lubricant called Anolube, which he told me was designed exactly for guys like us who indulge in anal sex and told me to apply a generous quantity to my own hard tool, which, with that mind of its own, which brooks no argument, was already under starter’s orders, straining at the reins, already exuding precum in anticipation of its maiden performance. Carlo than came across to me, embraced me, sandwiching our two erect members between us. As he kissed me fully on the lips any doubts I might have still had about what I was about to do disappeared, as my desire to fuck the guy came flooding back with a vengeance.$$$

Carlo manoeuvred me towards his bed, onto which we fell as one, as he was still so firmly embracing me. Then, after what I suppose we have to call foreplay, in which he fondled my cock and balls, almost making me cum there and then, whilst never taking his lips off my body, he settled himself on his back, bent his knees and opened his legs, giving me my very first view of his fundamental orifice, his anus, which, although I did not know it at that precise moment, was to play an extremely important role in my future life.

As I gazed, for the first time ever, at a man’s anus, it seemed to me that I was about to commit a terrible sin. I was about to sink my meat into what was at first sight, the holiest of holies; or perhaps better put: the holiest of holes. I was about to deposit a sample of the most precious, life-giving part of me into another human being. It was for me, a totally irreligious guy, a profoundly significant moment, as I prepare myself to take that first step, in which I would relinquish my virginity to Carlo, turning me from a boy into a man. And as the tip of my rock-hard man-meat, touched what had figuratively become for me the gates of heaven, I felt almost that I was about to deposit my seed in a receptacle which had become, in my mind, the equivalent of the Holy Grail.

This fanciful day-dreaming quickly vanished, when I was faced with the task of opening the gate to gain entry to the paradise within. As I told you previously, I am particularly well endowed sexually in that I have a sizeable piece of uncircumcised flesh between my legs. Not only was I, on this my debut into the world of anal sex, then still uncut, but in keeping with the size of my kit, my cockhead was still generously covered with what can but be described as a massive tube of foreskin. The fact that I was uncut in a country where the vast majority of men were circumcised at birth had made me the odd man out in my class at school. Proud as I was, of having the biggest cock by far among my classmates, I earnestly wished that I conformed to the accepted norm and that I too had been cut at birth. But the simple fact of the matter was that here I was faced with an anus, to which I was about to sacrifice my virginity, but which looked dauntingly tight and small for a guy with a cock as big as mine.

My cock was rock-hard and raring to go; but that tube of foreskin which projected from my cockhead, was, as ever, completely soft; and as I pushed the tip of my cock against Carlo’s tight anal pucker the foreskin folded itself over under the pressure and inconveniently made my tool into a blunt instrument, which I was trying desperately to insert into a small hole into which it refused to go. To be exact, there was not even a hole visible, as Carlo, in spite of his vaunted expertise at anal sex, had managed to keep his anal sphincters in shape which kept his anus firmly closed. With the clumsy, floppy end on my dick, and I felt as if I was trying, in biblical terms, to push a camel through the eye of needle. Can you imagine how embarrassed I was? Here I was at a critical point, physically handicapped and unable to perform the one act, which, at that very moment, was indispensible to the success or failure of my immediate future sex life.

As I gazed down, panic-stricken, at my cock, I wondered what Carlo was thinking; surely that he had placed his money on a loser. In desperation, I wondered what I could do; then it came to me like a flash out of the blue: a gift from heaven. I pulled back the foreskin just enough to expose the hard tip off my cockhead and was able, with little or no difficulty to take my first step, by stretching his anus enough to allow my sizeable cockhead to penetrate my partner. Once that critical step was complete, I was able, thanks to the generous amount of lubricant on my shaft, to slide my full length into Carlo. It was a euphoric moment for me. My cock had finally arrived at its

destination; I had left my boyhood behind and had become a man; I was actually doing what men do: I was fucking Carlo!

I cannot tell you how relieved I felt not to have messed up this unique moment in my life. However, in the midst of all this, one thing had become clear to me. If I wanted to have sex with other men – which I desperately did – then I had to get rid of that hindrance: my foreskin; it truly was the spanner in the works; it just had to go. With an internal shudder, I knew that sometime soon I would have to bite the bullet and allow myself to be circumcised. It was a frightening thought to have to submit one’s most precious possession to the knife. But I knew already that sex was to be such an important factor in my life and I was not prepared to allow an over-sized endowment in foreskin to become a regular encumbrance to my sex life.

So, now that I had successfully accomplished my first anal penetration, I could not sit back and rest on my laurels with my cock simply embedded deeply inside of Carlo. Carlo had said in his sermon, that the secret was to make haste slowly; that copulation was not a speed trial, but one of the most enjoyable pastimes in which a man can indulge. So with these words still ringing in my ears, I set about showing him that beginner though I might be, I was also a quick learner. And so as I started the reciprocal movements, which induce the desired arousal and hopefully, ultimately lead to two simultaneous, orgasmic climaxes, I was very conscious of the ultimate aim.

After having overcome the problems of penetration, I was now comfortably inside of Carlo and what came next seemed completely natural. In fact, although I did not realise it at the time, I was already beginning to develop what was to become my own signature copulation technique. Based on Carlo’s instructions, I began very gently fucking him, thrusting and partially withdrawing my penis from his rectum. As I withdrew, Carlo relaxed his anal muscles and then reclenched them as thrust myself back into him, thereby giving my cock the necessary pleasurable resistance, which is so necessary to building up to orgasm. And then, as minutes passed, I automatically increased both the force and frequency of my movements, by which time the friction I was feeling from Carlo’s muscular participation was moving me rapidly towards my own climax. When Carlo started emitting encouraging sounds of appreciation, I knew that I was on the road to making a success of my first sex act. Could I keep on rogering Carlo and bring him, my very first sex partner, to a climax at the same time as my own? Or would I have to capitulate to the demands of nature, which were becoming ever more insistent and allow myself to climax solo and dump my load?

But I was determined to bring the act to the desired, mutually satisfactory conclusion. It seemed to me that it was much easier for me as a top, to bring myself to orgasm than it was for me to take my partner with me to a simultaneous climax. I was determined to show Carlo, that beginner at gay sex though I undoubtedly was, I had the stamina to see that he, the very first guy I had ever fucked, was not left in the lurch with the need of his own manual assistance to climax.

And I was helped in my resolve, as I heard Carlo murmur: “Don’t stop now; please don’t stop: I’m almost there; so please don’t stop.”

Encouraged by these words, but with myself on the knife edge of climaxing, I had to make a very great and conscious effort to control my senses and stop myself shooting my load. But, by now, the demands being made my on body were becoming uncontrollable, so in sheer desperation, I increased both the force and the speed of my steam-piston of a cock; then I suddenly knew – ask me not how – that moment had arrived and that with one final thrust, I could take both Carlo and myself to that state of utter bliss, which only simultaneous orgasms produced by sexual union between two people, whether between a man and a man or between a man and a woman, can produce. As I gave him my final thrust, we both exploded into a veritable tsunami of cum; I could see Carlo jerking out his seed and filling the rubber was wearing to capacity, whilst I, for my part, shot my considerable whole inside of my partner, exactly as he had wanted. So there we lay; with me, drenched in sweat due to the tremendous effort I had just made, on top of a still trembling Carlo.

After what had been a rather sticky start, I had persisted in my efforts and had succeeded, in the maiden act of my sex life, my very first fuck ever, of delaying my own climax until I was certain of also of taking Carlo with me all the way to an orgasm simultaneous with my own. I can say that forr me it was triumph of mind over matter: my mind over what my body had told me it wanted. I had made a great effort to please Carlo and was justifiably proud of what I had just achieved.

Once Carlo had recovered from the battering I had given him, he said: “Jeezus H. Christ, Stan, where did you learn to fuck like that? If that was your first fuck ever, and I believe you when you say it was, what the fuck are you going to be like once you get a bit of experience You, my friend, and I kid you not, are just the greatest young fucker since the invention of sliced bread. What you just did to me just now, was mind-bendingly awesome. I tell you, Stan, you are a phenomenal cocksman; you are one of those guys has been born to fuck his way to stardom. That, Stan, was one of the greatest sexual experiences of my life; and believe me, I’ve had plenty; but none comparable to what you just did to me.”

“You, Stan, are just a great cocks-man from the word go: an undiscovered treasure! And I consider myself privileged to have had the honour to be the guy to whose anus you relinquished your virginity. You do appreciate, don’t you, that this was a unique occasion for both of us: for you because you can never, ever regain what you have just lost – welcome to the club by the way – and for me, because I have never before been party to a guy’s first fuck. And what a glorious first fuck it turned out to be! It is an occasion which we shall both remember for the rest of our lives.”

So, overwhelmed with the obvious success of my first attempt at gay sex and the fulsome praise of my partner, what did I do? Well I struck whilst the iron was hot. Still drenched in sweat from my first first efforts, I pulled myself up into the kneeling position, slid off the bed onto the floor. I then pulled Carlo by his legs to the edge of the bed, placed a pillow under his lower back to raise him to a convenient height for penetration and lifted his legs over my shoulders and pushed my still hard cock vigorously into his anus for a second time. For some reason I gave no thought to the problem my foreskin had posed on my maiden act of copulation. Possibly partly because Carlo and I were more in tune with each other and we were both more relaxed and partly because of the excessive amount of lubricating semen on my cock, I was able smoothly and easily to sink my full length into him. And so, for the second time in half an hour, I took both of us to heaven again.

My introduction to gay sex was completed next morning when we both managed to cram ourselves into the shower. Carlo soaped-down my back before again sliding himself bare-back into me. What an incredible way to start a school day!

Chapter 4

My first time experiences with Carlo had already changed me and were the happiest few hours I had ever had in my entire life. I could see from my brief experience with him, why he had said sex was addictive; it was; and I could not wait to assure myself that I had already become addicted. I found myself praying – not an act to which which I then often resorted – that the time I had spent with Carlo would not prove to be just a one-night-stand. I was acutely aware that our meeting had been accidental and that I, an absolute beginner at gay sex, had fortuitously caught the eye of a guy who was already an experienced operator.

In the event, my fears were totally unfounded as it was Carlo who came running after me and not the inverse. And so what had been my one-night introduction to gay sex with Carlo sex became a more-or-less twice or often three times weekly event. Thanks to the unusual working hours of his truck-driver father and his nursing mother, Carlo and I somehow managed to get together, usually at his place, for sex on a regular basis. Even if I did not stay the night, we nevertheless always seemed to have enough time to satisfy each other’s lusts. So, to coin a phrase, I rapidly became what I frivolously thought of as a CCC: a completely competent copulator.

However, there was one aspect of our relationship which annoyed the hell out of me, as Carlo and I drew ever closer together and I began to think of us as an item. This was Carlo’s free and easy dilettante approach to gay sex. Before he and I had got together, Carlo had been foot-loose-and-fancy-free when it came to his sex life. But after he and I started our relationship he still continued to frequent the gay clubs and bars indulging his passion erotic exercise. To broaden my sexual experience, he wanted me to come with him on what he laughingly referred to as his hunting expeditions,an invitation which I never accepted, as I was still too embarrassed by the potential problems which my excessively generous foreskin might cause when push came to shove in a one night stand with an unknown partner less understanding than Carlo. So in one way I felt a bit like Cinderella, who was forced by her two ugly sisters to remain at home, slaving away in the kitchen whilst they were at the ball.

Of course it was not truly like that, for I knew that I was a Cinderella of my own making; I had chosen, for personal reasons not to accompany Carlo when he went out and tripped the light fantastic in search of casual sex with studs whom neither he nor I knew. To sum up my feelings, I was totally jealous of a series of guys, none of whom I knew, nor would I ever know, but with whom my lover – and yes, I had already become possessive enough to think of Carlo as my lover – was sharing his most precious possessions: possessions which, in my eyes, I desperately wanted to be reserved for me alone. What would happen if he found someone he preferred to me? Would he drop me and move onto what he saw as greener pastures? In my tiny obsessive mind, I wanted Carlo to be mine – and mine alone; even though I rationally understood that we had not taken a vow of mutual faithfulness and I knew I was being totally unreasonable in my thoughts. Nonetheless, they were there and I had to live with them.

The fact that Carlo was still continuing to have casual sex with a string of gays whom I did not know, made me insane with jealousy; so much so that I could barely see straight anymore. As you will have gathered from this outpouring, I was head-over-heels in love with the guy! I was like a love-sick teenage girl, who sees her boy friend flirting with someone else. So what did I do; what, in fact, could I do when faced with a fait accompli? I did not own Carlo, so I could not stop him continuing with the free and easy sex life he had pursued before our relationship began, which he clearly still enjoyed. So I could do none other than grin and bear it.

So that is exactly what I did; I grinned and bore it. The only alternative was to call it quits with Carlo; and that was, for me, an unthinkable option. As Carlo had said: “Sex is an addictive pleasure.” And, my god; how right he was! I quickly became an addict, who could no longer envisage living without it. But my addiction was to one person only; to Carlo, who had taught me everything I knew about the practical side of gay sex and who was the only person with whom I had ever had sex. I cursed myself for my timidity in not allowing Carlo to introduce me to the joys of casual gay sex and to participate in the free and easy gay sex life he obviously still enjoyed in the gay community. But in spite of Carlo’s assurances that when it came to fucking, I was the nearest thing on earth to the Greek God Eros, I simply could not shake off the handicap, as I saw it, of my excessive endowment in foreskin. And so, until I reached the age of eighteen and finally left school, and even sometime later, I remained totally faithful to him.

For what was Carlo’s last year at school, he and I worked out regularly in the gym in three evenings each week and by the end of the school year, when Carlo, one year older than me, left school, by dint of regular, hard training we had both honed our bodies into that state of well-ripped, muscular perfection, which was the envy of those of our schoolmates who also frequented the gym after school hours. Quite frequently, when our schoolmates finished their exertions before we did, Carlo and I found ourselves alone in the showers. So one of our greatest pleasures was to have a rerun of our first fuck together under the running water of the the shower as Carlo had done to me the day our liaison began. The fact that we might get caught in the act, added extra spice to what we did. In reality, I don’t think that either of us gave a toss to the fact that we might be caught at it. Carlo was already eighteen and would leave at the end of the year anyway; and frankly, I would have been glad to have been expelled to free me from the tyrannical tedium of my final year at a school where I was learning nothing.

My first thoughts when Carlo left school was what would happen to our close relationship, which had been forged and reinforced by the regular, evening, work-out sessions in the school’s gym. But my immediate fears were unfounded, as Carlo, with no high-school diploma to his name, but with a magnificently ripped body, found himself a congenial job as an apprentice trainer in one of Chicago’s premier gyms. Ostensibly a normal commercial gym where young men went to keep themselves in shape, as I was to learn it served as a homosexual knocking shop for young gays in search of sex.

Carlo managed to persuade the gym manager – ask me not how; but I had my suspicions, as Carlo, even with our ever-closer sexual relationship was still foot-loose and fancy-free when it come to casual sex – to allow him to bring his training partner – me, of course – to work-out in the evenings when he had finished his shift for the day. And so this professional establishment became the place where Carlo and I continued our collaborative body-building together and I abandoned my evening workouts in the school gym during my final year at school.

Of course, Carlo’s workplace became much more than a gym for us, for as I quickly learned from him, beyond the main, public, exercise room, there were a number of so-called massage cubicles where gym clients could conduct their business in private. Each lavishly equipped with a padded massagetable and a shower, with towels, condoms and lubricants provided, the true purpose of these cubicles was self- evident: they were designed for private indulgence in possibly the finest things life has to offer to gay men: anal copulation! They rapidly became the place where Carlo and I were able to satisfy our sexual lust for each other in complete comfort without being disturbed.

It was there, thanks to the professional, padded massage tables, whose height could be adjusted, that I discovered what was to become my favourite sex position, both as a top and a bottom. Carlo, a highly talented instructor, had taught me, in a series of what I can but describe as master classes, everything I presently knew about gay sex. The key message, which Carlo had pumped into me, both verbally and physically, was that both partners to the sex-act, should ways be completely satisfied. So, both Carlo and I, whenever we fucked each other, whoever was the top always endeavoured to take the bottom partner through to orgasm. In fact, from the word go, the basis of our sexual relationship had been not only mutually to relieve the tension of our individual sexual needs by fucking each other, but in so doing to make love.

However, there are occasions when even the most amorous of partners, both feel the need for a bout of rough sex. Needs must when the devil drives and there is something infinitely satisfying for both parties about the occasional jack-hammer approach to anal intercourse, where the active partner simply thrusts his rock-hard meat, with long hard strokes at every increasing speed and with ever greater force in and out of his partner’s anus. He literally hammers his partner’s ass in the way a jack-hammer attacks a concrete slab to be broken up.

This technique, which is what many rapists use to satisfy their uncontrollable lust for sex, can nevertheless be very satisfying if that is what both parties to the act want. So why am I telling you this? Well my very favourite position for anal sex is also the one which, to me at least, best allows the active partner, the top, to hammer his partner’s hole the hardest in a no-holds-barred act of gay abandon between two consenting adults, which closely approximates to rape in its sheer ferocity of attack; an attack based on pure sexual lust from which the concept of tender-loving-care is totally absent, but which can be totally exhilarating for both participants.

It was made possible by the availability of the massage table, which I first adjust to suit the height of my cock standing there and on which I hade Carlo lie on his back with his ass right on the edge with his legs bent and his feet also on the edge of the table. Then after attending to the essential preliminary of lubrication, I would take Carlo’s legs and hold them vertical against my chest with my arms firmly around them before shafting him. The reason I describe this technique in such detail is that the table height can be adjusted, so that Carlo’s anus was exactly aligned with the height of my cock as I stood there holding his legs.

I think that this position is the most comfortable one I know for both the bottom and the top participants in the act of anal copulation; the the top can slide his cock easily inside of his partner’s rectum without the need to resort to any awkward gymnastics or contorted body positions, whilst the bottom is also comfortably lying on his back. I am sure most readers will agree with me, when I say, that anal sex, the most satisfying act of union between two gay men, the results of which once tasted are totally addictive, is not rendered very easy by the awkward location of the two key body parts involved in the act sex: to wit, the penis of the one and the anus of the other protagonist.

I find this modified mission position most satisfying. By firmly holding your partner’s legs vertical against your own body, you are able to hold him immobile no matter how hard you hammer his anus with your erect man-meat. It is, in my eyes, the perfect position for all anal sex and the best one to allow such perfectly firm control by the top active partner of his bottom partner in really rough sex. And I finally found that even when I hammered Carlo as hard as I could, I was still able to control myself and continue fucking his anus until I saw he was ready to climax. Then it that one, final, monumental thrust of my cock, I was able to us together over the top into that state of nirvana of intense orgasms accompanied by a tsunami of cum. So even in really rough sex, we were both totally satisfied and never need to resort to our hands to reach that sublime orgasmic climax.

Well, I see that I have strayed from the straight and narrow story of the development of my sex-life with Carlo. Until I left school at eighteen, other than occasional nights of bliss sent with him in his bed when both his parents were away from home, he and I benefitted enormously from his job at the gym where I became a regular evening visitor. So much so that when the gym manager, inadvertently burst in on us whilst Carlo was stimulating my ass in one of the cubicles, he looked on with obvious admiration at Carlo, was in process of hammering my anus and said to him: “I wish you would use some of that energy on me. But I guess from the time you two seem to spend fucking each other that you are an item and I shall never get a look in.”

I figuratively jumped for joy when I heard Carlo answer: “I guess you could say that we are more or less that.” This was the first intimation from him that I was more than just a reliable fuck: someone he could rely on to be there after one of his regular, casually promiscuous visits to Chicago’s gay spots in search of a quick, one-off fuck had been less than successful. But now, I had the first indication that our relationship was more stable than I had hitherto thought it to be. Carlo had said, in my presence, to another man that he guessed we were more or less and item. At no time during our relationship had I felt such a wave of love for my sex partner as at that precise moment. As it happened, I was bottoming for Carlo when the manager had caught us in the act. But never as then, had I felt such a strong urge that I wanted to reverse our roles and fuck my partner with all my strength to show him just how deep my feelings for him were.

Anyway, fortified by that statement I decided it was up to me to turn the remark from a guess into a positive affirmation of our status together. I knew that I had only myself to blame for not accepting his repeated offers to introduce me to the undoubted pleasures and excitement of casual sex with unknown partners; and I vowed, to myself, there and then, that once I reached the age of eighteen and was my own man, and free to do as I wished, I would liberate myself – and my cock – once and for all from that tyrannical, unnatural, overblown lump of unnecessary foreskin, which had for so long inhibited me from enjoying my undoubted homosexuality to the full. No longer would I allow the foreskin of my cock to be a perpetual embarrassment to me; it had to go!

Chapter 5

Carlo, had left school forever at the end the school year in June and had, as I have already related found himself a job as a trainer in a gym in downtown Chicago, in the Loop. In the autumn, I started what was to be my own final year at school and I could barely wait until the day came when I could leave that hated place and be done with the sadistic principal and his mentally run-down teaching-staff forever. It was then that it suddenly hit me. My eighteenth birthday would be on February 2 nd, making me the eldest in my class. State – or was it federal law? – made school attendance obligatory until the age of eighteen; but is said nothing about completing the school year in which you became eighteen.

Normally, students in their final year at school remained there until the end of the school year in which they reached the age of eighteen. But there was nothing in law, to prevent a student from leaving the place the day he attained his legal majority, which in my case was February 2nd. Now, Carlo and I had not hitherto discussed leaving home and moving in together. Carlo was still living with his parents. and I with mine. However, encouraged by Carlo’s remark, I decided to bite the bullet and find out exactly where we stood together.

There was no doubt about it, Carlo and I had a super sex-live together – well at least I thought we did – especially since he had left school and had been working at the gym. For some reason, sex in those cubicles at the gym had made the act even more satisfying for me; and also for Carlo, I hoped. But my own sex life was totally focussed on Carlo, whereas, in spite of what I personally saw as our ever closer relationship, he still regularly played the field and casually fucked around with other guys. Frankly, although I accepted it, as I had been totally in love with the guy from the word go, even if it meant, as it did at the moment, sharing him with others, of whom, although I did not know any of them, I was insanely jealous.

My only consolation – if you even could call it that – was that Carlo and I occasionally still did have bareback sex together, whereas given his Germanic preoccupation with hygiene, I was pretty sure that he and his one-night-stand partners used condoms. This, in my mind, put me in a different class, to them as I was the only one to have that all-important intimate flesh-to-flesh contact.

I would have moved heaven and earth to maintain our relationship. Carlo was still my only sex partner. He had taught me everything I knew about gay sex and who, apart from being raped by the odious school principal, was the only guy, who had ever fucked me and whom I myself had ever fucked. So perhaps you can appreciate how vulnerable I felt. I confess that I was curious to know what sex would be like with other men but, unless I got the question of my embarrassing foreskin sorted, sex with anyone but Carlo seemed a remote possibility, even with his compliments on my sexual prowess.

However, I had already worked out a clear plan for what I hoped would be our future relationship in my own mind. But having decided to bite the bullet and settle things as to where Carlo and I stood together, I had great difficulty in knowing where to start. It was in early November of my final school year when I eventually plucked up enough courage to touch on the present state of my relationship with Carlo, who had truly become, in a few short months, my alter ego. I had already spent a great deal of thought about where I wanted our relationship to go as soon as I reached the age of eighteen in early February the following year and was legally able to make decisions for myself.

I began after a particularly agreeable session of copulation with Carlo one evening in one of the private cubicles at the gym where he worked. When I had finished fucking him, with a certain amount of trepidation, I began: “Carlo, there is something important I would like to discuss with you. The other day as you were fucking me, we were interrupted by the gym manager and in response to his remark that he guessed that you and I were an item you said: I guess you could say that we are more or less that.I have to ask you if you really did mean that or was it just an off-the-cuff remark.”

“Of course I really mean it; otherwise I would not have said it”

“So, can it take it that you consider us to be an item?”

“Yes! In my view we have been more or less an item since we started our relationship in the shower of the school gym that day several months ago. I told you then, Stan that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me sexually. You may have been a raw beginner, totally uninitiated in to the joys of gay sex, but you took to it like a duck takes to water. The way you fuck is, not to make a pun, absolutely fucking amazing. I remember the exact words I said to you after you had fucked me for the first time: You, my friend, are just the greatest young fucker since the invention of sliced bread.I realise now that that was not exactly a flattering comparison. But your performances in our copulative partnership since then have confirmed to me that you are one of the greatest young cocks-men ever. So, Stan, as sex is such an essential part of my life – of both our lives, I think – I cannot think of another guy, whom I would prefer as a stable, long-term partner you.”

“I just regret that you have never joined me in my other sexual, prospecting activities visiting some of the gay bars clubs and night spots that this amazing city has to offer young studs like us. I really appreciate that I have a stable partner in you. But nevertheless, young guys like us need something for light entertainment. You see, Stan, I find the odd, frivolous, non-serious fuck with some guy you have just met and will never, ever see again, adds a little spice to the daily grind, which is why I do it. We each have our preferences; but if playing the field is not your thing and if you don’t want to come with me, you don’t have to feel guilty about it as I would never try to persuade you into doing something you did not like. The way I look on it, given your undoubted talent for sex, I have you all to myself. The sort of guys with whom I have recreational sex, don’t know what they are missing. But as the saying has it: What the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve over.”

My heart jumped for joy when I heard Carlo that he had thought of us as an item from the first day of our relationship when we were both still at school; we had just simply clicked together like a press-stud. I had never explained my reason for refusing to go with Carlo on his sexual foraging expeditions. Nor had he ever alluded to that bête- noireat the end of my cock: my embarrassingly large foreskin. But given that he had openly said that he already considered us as an item I decided that this was the moment to lay all my cards on the table and go for broke. I knew exactly in my own mind what I wanted to achieve; but in what order should I play my cards to give me the greatest chance of success?

So I began: “Carlo, when we first got together, it was like a miracle for me. I knew as soon as I saw you in the gym that day that I had already fallen in love with you at first sight. Don’t ask me how I knew; just accept it for what it was and for what it has since become; in my view, an unbreakable bond between us. As you realised I was completely green when it came to sex; not only gay sex, but sex in general. Other than having been raped by the principal I had never touched or been touched by another human being, male or female, other than by my parents when I was small.”

“How I knew that I had to suck you off under the shower and allow you to face-fuck me, I have no idea. But I did it; in fact, we did it together; and then you went on and showed me just how good anal sex could be and dumped your cream into my rectum. And since then everything has developed between us and we have become inseparable sex partners: an item as you have just said. I have to tell you, Carlo, that, other than being raped by the principal, I have never had sex with anyone but you. Since we started having sex together, I have not fucked around – played the field – at all; you have been and still are my only sex-partner and I absolutely adore you.”

“I know that you have been disappointed that I have never come with you on your recreational, sexual foraging visits in search of one-off-fucks in gay clubs and bars in the city. But that was not because I disapprove of what you were doing, but because I have, what I personally see, as a handicap. Now you may laugh and tell me that I am being stupid; but you have seen my cock often enough and must have realised that I was one of those rare birds, who had not been cut a birth as most American men have been. And not only am I now going on eighteen, still uncircumcised, but my foreskin is totally excessive. In a word my cock ends in a gross amount of flabby flesh, which I personally find extremely embarrassing. Now when you and I have sex, and I fuck you, as I frequently do, I have developed a technique for getting around what I see as an encumbrance. And that, Carlo, is why I have never gone with you clubbing in search of casual sex; I am just too embarrassed that I will mess things up. So my friend, as I have just said, you have been my only sex partner ever.”

“Anyway, here is what I wanted to say to you. Two months from now, on February 2nd next year, I shall be eighteen year old and free to make my own decisions in this world. I have decided that I am wasting my time going to that dump of a school, which you have, fortunately already left and where I am learning nothing. So come February 3rd next year, I have decided that I will quit going to school for good. I know it’s not a normal time to leave, but the law simply says that we have to attend school until we reach the age of eighteen. It says nothing about staying until the end of the school term in which we reach that age. And so come February 3rd, I’m off. And not only am I leaving school, but I am also intending to leave what passes for my home and my parents, who do not give a toss for me; nor vice-versa I might add. I have decided to get myself a small apartment somewhere in a less run-down part of this city than that in which you and I both, still live.”

“So what I wanted to ask you is if you would be interested in shacking up with me. Carlo, I am not exaggerating when I say I have been in love with you since the moment we met. Carlo, you are my whole life and I can imagine nothing better than you and I living and sharing our life together. And you have just confirmed that you see us as an item; so why not move in together?”

“But there is something much more personal about myself, that I have to tell you, as it will effect what I hope will be our life, especially our sex life, together. I have finally decided that once I reach the age of eighteen, I will get my cock circumcised, to get rid of that embarrassing foreskin, which, quite frankly has been the plague of my sex life to date. I don’t want to brag about the size of my cock, but I know that I do have a very large and desirable penis – as do you too. Once free of the embarrassing constraints of that fucking foreskin, which has been the bane of my sex-life to date, it will be liberated and free to compete for a place in the sun. Carlo, I hope you understand there is nothing I would have liked more than to go with you on your clubbing expeditions looking for casual sex as a recreational activity, but I have been held back by what I see as an embarrassing impediment. Call me stupid if you wish; but that the way I feel.”

“So Carlo, my closest friend and only lover – and I do consider when we fuck each other, as we very frequently do, that we are not just getting physical but are also making love to each other – what is your first reaction to my suggestion that we shack-up together.”

His reaction to what I thought had been mybrilliant idea was both laconically positive and comfortingly reassuring.

“Great minds clearly think alike,” he said, “I had been thinking much along the same lines myself. It’s just that I had seen you staying on at school until the start of the long summer vacation. I had not foreseen that you would up sticks and run the day you reached eighteen. But if you are up for it then so am I. My parents do not yet know that I am gay and I am sure that they still fondly labour under the false illusion that I will settle down, marry some girl or other and produce a few grandchildren for them. But, I’m afraid I’m made the same as you and that is a dream which will never be realised. They have to learn sometime that my life will be with another man.”

“When they learn that their only child is gay, the shit will hit the fan as I already know what my father thinks about the likes of us. It will be a bitter blow for him to find that his son is one of them. Like many others of his generation, that is unfortunately how he thinks of us gays:we arethem:a totally unspeakable group of men.But, whatever my parents think, it will not change my sexual orientation and make me conform to what they themselves consider as good and proper. They have to find out the truth about their son’s sexuality sometime; and as I see it, there is no good time to break the bad news to them; so now is as good a time as any other. They will just have to swallow, what for them will be, a very bitter pill when they learn that their only child, their son, proposing to live, in what they consider as sin, with another man, with whom he will have what, in their view, are unspeakable and un-natural physical relations. They will just have to learn to live with the fact that some men, including their own flesh and blood, have sexual relations with other men.”

Carlo then added laughingly: “But, you know my philosophy about sex, don’t you? Never waste time chewing the fat when it could be more profitable spent copulating! So let’s get on with it, shall we?

So how about your folks? Do they know that you are one of them?Do they know that you are gay or do they too have a horrible reality shock coming to them?”

“Frankly, Carlo, I don’t give a fuck what my parents know or don’t know, even though they made me by their joint efforts. They have never treated me like a son and I sometimes wonder if they are aware that I am still around. So I don’t care two hoots about them as they have never cared two hoots about me. As soon as I am eighteen, I shall be out of their lives as quickly as possible. I shall just pack what few possessions I have and leave them a note telling them that I have gone for good and that they need not bother looking for me. But knowing them as I do, that last phrase: they need not look for me; will probably be a waste of ink. It is sad to say, that physically although they are my parents and I owe my existence to them, that is literally all we have in common.”

Chapter 6

So the fateful decision had been made: I would leave school in early February and find a job. Carlo and I would both leave home for good, find an apartment, the rent of which we could afford and move in together, thereby consolidating our states as an item. And then there was the question of attending to the urgent need – as I saw it – of my cock. I had decided to have myself cut and I had to find a qualified surgeon who would do this operation for me at a price which I could afford to pay. I had not yet told Carlo about my nest egg of a little of over $4000, which I had managed to build up over the past eighteen months, based on the sum I had received to keep silent about the school principal raping me, augmented by my earnings at weekends and vacations in the local supermarket. But whatever the cost, I was determined to find the money, as I had to get my cock put in order, if ever I was to have the peace of mind and be able to live the sort of gay sex life which, even with my limited sexual experience, was my undoubted future.

So the first imperative for me was to find a job, which for someone with my lack of qualifications was not easy. Carlo with his lack of professional qualifications had been lucky to find the job at the gym and was relatively well paid for his services. So to have at least a stable income and be able to pay my share of living expenses, I took a job as store assistant at the supermarket where I had worked weekends and vacation for the past two years. It wasn’t much of a job but it would do until I found something better to keep the wolf from the door. You will understand that aged nearly eighteen, as I then was, my prime objectives were to get away from my parents, move in with Carlo and get my cock problems sorted once and for all.

We manage to find a small, furnished two roomed apartment, with a small kitchen and bathroom which we could afford on the on the top floor of an old commercial building in the Chicago Loop. It was very convenient for Carlo as the gym at which he worked was within walking distance. For me it was less convenient as the local supermarket, which had set me on, was in the run-down area south of the Loop, where both Carlo and I had previously lived and gone to school. I counted myself lucky when I managed to find another job at a very upmarket supermarket inside the Loop, so that both Carlo and I, neither of us with cars and neither of us with a driving licence, nor with enough disposable cash to even think of buying a car, could walk to work. In fact, we had become city-centre-livers and could lead a pedestrian life for the most part.

But the real joy of our new life is that we were finally together: an item! I cannot tell you how much we enjoyed each other’s bodies in that first week together in our new apartment. We slept together in our one bed, naked – in fact, neither of us even possessed a pair of pyjamas – and fucked each other, as the saying has it: till the cows come home.But our coupling was not simply about the physical side of sex, satisfying and necessary though that is, as we genuinely made love to each other. And moreover, during that first month of our co-habiting, which took on the trappings of an extended honeymoon, in spite of Carlo’s strictures about bareback sex, whichever of us was playing the active role always fucked the other bareback, whilst the receiver of the anal stimulation, the bottom – the fuckee, to coin a word – always wore a condom to catch his emissions and keep the bed dry.

It was during that first idyllic month together that we both perfected the technique of being consistently able, every time we had sex together, to take the passive partner right through to climax on every single fuck. I count that first month with Carlo as the happiest time of my life and though it had no physiological effect on either of us, the fact that whenever we copulated, the active partner always deposited his sperm inside of the rectum of the other, somehow made the bond which was holding is together ever tighter and drew us emotionally closer together. We were totally and utterly in love with each other and, aged but eighteen and nineteen respectively, we had succeeded in forging a bond between us which was seemingly unbreakable.

The only problem on the horizon was to get my cock problems sorted so that Carlo and I could enjoy our life together and I could participate in the recreational sex life which Carlo had practised for several years and which I had come to consider as important next step in my sexual coming-of-age. You see the bind I was in; here I was, just eighteen, shacked up, fucking like a rabbit, the guy who had taught me all I knew about gay sex and who was still the only guy to date with whom I had ever had sex. It felt as if my sex education had been cut short; and the thing that was doing the cutting was my embarrassment at that overgenerous endowment of foreskin I had at the end of my cock. So you can see why it had to go.

I have to confess that although I had taken a firm decision to submit my most precious possession to a surgeon’s scalpel, it was a prospect which still filled me with dread. But it had to be done! However, I dithered for almost a year before I finally decided take the plunge, shortly after my nineteenth birthday. The first thing to do was to find a surgeon would rid me of my pesky foreskin at a price I could afford to pay. I was ready to invest my entire nest egg of $4000 in my cock if necessary. Carlo and I had by now no secrets from each other and he knew about my wish to have myself circumcised; and I had also told him that I had the $4000 in cash to hand to pay for the operation. So he discretely enquired around the gym where he worked and came up with a young surgeon named Dr. Alan Greenberg, who apparently specialised in adult circumcision. As his name sounded Jewish and as the Jews were noted for relieving their male offspring of their foreskins shortly after birth, he sounded as good a bet as any.

And so it was with some considerable trepidation, I made an appointment to allow Dr. Greenberg to examine my crown jewels and see what he could do for me. His office was in an apartment on the second floor of the prestigious Lake Point Tower, a building inspired by Mies van der Rohe, which towers over the – to my mind at least – bleak expanse of Lake Michigan. To my surprise, Dr Greenberg, in spite of his Jewish sounding name, turned out to be an attractively handsome, blond Aryan type, at a guess, not more than twenty five years old. Judging from the suggestive photographs of young studs on the walls of his waiting room, I immediately painted him as gay. But whether gay or straight, as the photos on the walls, this guy clearly had a deep interest in the male figure.

As I stripped off to let him examine me, I his eyes widened at the first sight of my kit. As I told you at the time I first met Carlo, I was already sexually the best equipped of my class when it came to cock size. But in the intervening eighteen months, as I had matured from late adolescence into young manhood, my body had filled out and my cock had increased in length from seven to eight inches when soft – as it now was – with a diameter, which I estimated at well over 2 inches: a formidable fuck-stick by any standards. Add to this, that bane of my life, my huge foreskin and my man-meat looked mightily impressive, to say the very least. In fact, as I saw my reflection in a full length mirror in the examination room, I realised, for the very first time, what a well-ripped and sexually superbly equipped young stud I had become; all that hard work in the gym over the past two years had certainly paid off.

Dr. Greenberg made a detailed examination of my penis and agreed with me that I would do well to get rid of that over-generous terminal appendage. Apparently there would be no problem in removing the prepuceas he called it– foreskin to you and me – to expose what he told me was my generously well-proportioned glans penis – in layman’s speak, my cockhead – which, he said would be offset from the penile shaft itself by a well-defined corona – the rim of the cockhead to the uninitiated like me. But he also picked up on my low-hanging balls.

“Well, Mr. Przewalsky, you certainly have a penis, whose appearance will benefit greatly from total removal of the foreskin as you have requested. I can see that it might have been causing you difficulties in the sexual relationships in which I presume a young man like you is indulging. It would be a shame for you not to be comfortable when you share your quite exceptional endowment with a partner. However, I have noticed that in addition to the excessive foreskin which has brought you here today to seek my help, your testicles are somewhat pendulous.”

“From what I have seen of you, I have the impression that you are a young man who takes pride in his body. Not to put too fine a point on it, Mr. Przewalsky, you are well-ripped and sexually exceptionally well-equipped young-man. I don’t know how you would feel if I suggested to you that I surgically adjust your scrotum to pull your testicles closer to you body, so that your penis descends over them in an aesthetically pleasing curve. I think you would find yourself more satisfied with your already absolutely stellar equipment if you were to agree to what is in fact, a minor piece of additional, cosmetic surgery; it can be performed here in my offices at the same time as I perform your circumcision. I have a small operating room here, which I use for minor surgery such as yours, which does not warrant a total anaesthetic or a stay in hospital. So, how do you feel about my suggestion?”

Dr. Greenberg had seized upon the one other thing about my sexual kit which had always vaguely annoyed me. As I said earlier, I had myself thought for quite some time that my balls were too low and that I would look better if they were held closer to my body rather than then slapping around when I was fucking Carlo. And now here I had confirmation of the same, from a man, whom I began to realise was a keen observer of the male figure. However, until now, I had not realised that anything could be done about it. But as he explained to me, it was just a question of removing a small sliver of flesh from the back of my scrotum to produce the desired effect.

To say the least I was delighted by the suggestion. In fact Dr. Greenberg had whetted my appetite to achieve aesthetic perfection of my physique and in so doing had touched inadvertently on a point of my character which I tried assiduously to conceal from others, Carlo included. But there was no denying it to myself as I knew in my own heart that I was narcissistically vain. But I also saw that Dr, Greenberg was an astute man, who had clearly realised that I was embarrassed when I had sex, although he was discrete enough never to mention it..

So a date the following week was fixed for the procedure. I then decided that I had better pose the key question: How much was it going to cost?Medical costs are eye-wateringly high in the USA and I trembled internally as I waited to hear what I was sure would be the bad news. You understand that I was ready to spend my entire nest-egg of $4000 on myself to achieve the end I wanted. After all, some guys spend thousands on a pair of trainers; so why shouldn’t I spend my nest egg, all of it, if I had to, to achieve what in my eyes, would be a perfect sex kit. I fervently hoped that it would not cost that much; but I had heard horrific stories of medical bills which had bankrupted families.

In the the event I was agreeably surprised by what Dr. Greenberg said. “My standard fee for an adult circumcision is $500 and the same for the scrotum adjustment: but if you have the scrotum adjustment done at the same time, I will do that for a reduced fee of $250.” So there I had it; for $750.- I could get my crown jewelstotally re-polished; my cock and balls finally put in order. Having dithered around in my decision for so long, I now found that I could barely wait to let him get started with his scalpel!

Chapter 7

The fateful day for my execution,when what I had come to think of as the decapitation of my cock would take place, had finally arrived. I can tell you that even wanting the operation as much as I did, I was nevertheless trembling like a leaf as I entered the doctor’s office. I was taken straight through to a preparation room by a white-clad male-nurse: Jeremy, from his name tag, who began by giving me some sort of pill to swallow. “It will stop you having an erection during the operation as your penis.” He used the proper polite word for the part of me which was shortly to be on the firing line. “Must remain flaccid during the operation to avoid excessive bleeding.”

He then asked me to strip off completely and lie down on a table so that he could shave off my pubic hair and prepare me for the knife. I saw the gob-smacked look on his face, tinged with envy, as he gazed for the first time at my massive endowment. Like Dr. Greenberg, I assessed him as being gay. He lathered up my crotch with shaving foam and then proceeded to shave away all my pubic hair with some sort of safety razor. He was very thorough as he removed every last suspicion of hair from my lower abdomen and scrotum, before telling me to turn over onto my stomach and spread my legs. He then shaved away all hair from the inside of my cheeks and anal area, before anointing me with some very stringent, antiseptic fluid which made me wince as it touched my skin. Then I was again on my back again, having the same antiseptic treatment applied to to my lower abdomen and genitalia. Jeremy finally left me, fully prepped, as he called it. I lay there for about fifteen minutes, contemplating the decision I had made, before Jeremy re-appeared and wheeled me into what I suppose we have to call the operating theatre: the room where what I had come to think of as my execution would be carried out.

Dr. Greenberg was enveloped in a green gown and was wearing a cotton cap on his head. I cannot describe what happened to me then, other than that I received several shots of local anaesthetic, in my crotch area, which within seconds had removed any feeling I had had in my cock and balls. I was then covered totally in a voluminous sheet with a cut-out area to allow the surgeon access to my vital parts, so I saw nothing of what was being done to me. I could feel that my cock and balls were being worked on but there was no pain at all and so I was finally able to relax and accept the surgeon’s assurances that this was a minor procedure. The whole thing took no longer then about fifteen minutes, in which time I lost that hated foreskin and had my scrotum reduced to draw my balls closer to my body.

When I was finally allowed my first glimpse of what I already thought of as my new self, I was sorely disappointed, for I found my genitalia encased in bandages. I say bandages for want of another word; but my scrotum was clothed in a small cloth bag with drawstrings to keep it in place and my cock was similarly encased in a padded tube, also held in place by strings which had been looped around the root of my cock and my scrotum. Additionally, the cock sleeve, let us call it, culminated in a tube, one end of which had been pushed, so Jeremy told me, into what he referred to as my meatus,pronounced mee-atus – my piss-slit to us non- professionals – allowing me to urinate with the whole protective package still in place. So I was deprived of the pleasure of seeing the bloody, post-operative state of my modified and hopefully, improved penis and scrotum.

Dr. Greenberg came to see me a few minutes later, and gave me small bottles of two different pills, to be taken on a daily basis; the one to avoid post-operative infection and the other to ensure that I did not have an erection. “You cannot have sex for two weeks,” he said, “As the circumcision cuts must be allowed time to heal completely. I have removed your foreskin completely which has totally exposed your glans (my cockhead) and you must allow time for the scar tissue to form completely before you have sex again. So, young man, I am afraid you will have to be patient, as will also your partner if you have one; she will just have to be patient and look forward to the pleasures to come.”

This was the first mention of sex, and I noticed right away that he had said she. I immediately asked myself if this had been a loaded remark, aimed at determining whether or not I was homosexual, as it was the first time that the question of sexual relations had been brought up. So I quickly corrected him: “Actually, it’s he not she doctor,” which told him of my sexual orientation. Whether that had been the reason for his question or not, I not know. But he now knew, for a fact, that his patient was gay.

“I see, I see.” He said. Then after a brief pause he continued: “I don’t wish to pry into the exact nature of your sexual relationship with your partner (which is, in fact, exactly what he did want to do) but if, in the interest of conjugal harmony, you wish to play bottom to his top, during your convalescence, I see no reason for you to deny him access. We are all young men, and I fully understand that two weeks without sex when you have a regular partner can seem like a lifetime. So I see no reason for you not to allow him access, if you are so inclined. I know from personal experience how insistently demanding partners can be.” “Was this,” I asked myself, “A quid-pro-quo: a discrete intimation to me, of his own sexuality?”

“The most important thing is that you yourself must not have an erection for at least two weeks; and that, young-man, is a non-negotiable order. You must take the pills I gave every day without fail; otherwise your body will revert back to normal within a few hours and you risk becoming sexually aroused by all the normal stimulae to which a man is subjected in his daily life, which could lead to a haemorrhage of your circumcision wound. Now, I want you back here in two days, when Jeremy will change the dressings for you. And then, in two weeks, I will, see you again myself and hopefully, discharge you from my care, up and running and fit for purpose with your revised equipment ready for a lifetime of service to others.”

I left his office feel slightly sore, but no more. I was, however, bitterly disappointed not to have seen my cock after the operation. But in two days’ time, when Jeremy changed my dressings, I would see my man-meat in all its new-found glory. I could hardly wait; but wait I did, as there was no alternative.

That evening, Carlo looked at my bandaged sex kit and said, laughingly, that he thought I looked like a candidate mummy. So in the light of his comment, I told him that there was to be no sex between us for two weeks, before relenting and telling him that during that period it was he who had to do the honours if he wanted to consort – good word, I thought – with me; to which he readily agreed. And so that night in bed together, Carlo showed me just how gentle he could be – I suspect he thought I was a sort of invalid, as he made true love to me, fucking me three times bareback and depositing his three loads inside my rectum.

When we finally fell asleep in each other’s arms, I don’t believe I had ever felt as contented as I did that night. Carlo, by his actions, had proved to me beyond any doubt that he and I enjoyed a match made in heaven. And for the next two weeks whilst my cock convalesced and prepared itself for action again, he treated my anus to the tender loving care, which only a true over knows how to give his partner. In fact as it worked out, the anti-erection pills I was taking prevented me from making any sperm of my own and so the wounds on my penis healed for two weeks in complete tranquillity.

Two days later, I returned to Dr. Greenberg’s office and Jeremy removed the bandages from my cock and scrotum, allowing me – and him too – to see the chef d’oeuvre:the masterpiece of a silk purse, which which Dr. Greenberg, by his surgical skill, had created from what I had always seen as my sort of sow’s ear of a cock. Within the two days since the operation, the initial rawness had already commenced to calm down and my massive cock head was clearly visible, separated from my shaft by the step created by the head’s well-defined rim.

Where my unloved foreskin had originally been attached to my shaft circumferentially, there was now only a neat row of small stitches, holding together the two edges of the last traces of what had been the inside and outside faces of my foreskin. That was the only cut which had been necessary to necessary to rid me forever of that hated, cumbersome lump of flesh and which needed to heal completely before I could put my cock back into service.

As Dr. Greenberg had said; it was a very minor piece of cosmetic surgery. But as I admire his handiwork, I realised how much that minor piece of surgery had done for my my self-esteem. But there was another agreeable surprise, which revealed itself as Jeremy helped me to my feet and stood me in front of the large wall mirror so that I could see myself, full length and narcissistically admire my naked body in all its post-operative glory. And, with no false modesty, I was amazed at the difference the operation had wrought.

The impressive eight inches of uncontrollable flesh of my man-meat, meat, liberated from the encumbrance that hated foreskin, now flaccidly descended gracefully in a curve over my balls, which, thanks to Dr. Greenberg were now tucked neatly against my pelvis. To say I was delighted with my new appearance was the understatement of all time. I was utterly over the moon and would happily have paid Dr. Greenberg anything he had asked. He had liberated me from what was a true sexual hang-up caused by what I had, rightly or wrongly seen as a deformity of my male organ. And as everyone knows, a happy sex-life is worth all the tea in China; especially if you are like me and don’t drink tea at all!

Jeremy, who was clearly overawed by the magnificent size of the kit he was dealing with, carefully cleaned both cock and scrotum wounds with a disinfectant before applying what he told me was a cicatrising cream to promote the production of good scar tissue. He then put on two, new, tubular bandages and before I left, repeated the warning me that I should not even think of having sex with my cock until Dr. Greenberg had discharged me after my final visit in twelve days time. He made another appointment for me to see him in six days time to have my dressings changed a second time.

From the longing, admiring looks he gave me as he worked on my kit, I was sure that he would have like to have a put his name down for a trial run with it himself, to confirm that everything was in full working order. You know, on the principle that the proof of the pudding is in the eating, which is why a garage mechanic will take your car out on the road after he has service it to ensure that everything is in order. I was sure as I left that Dr. Greenberg and his nurse, Jeremy, were both gay and would both happily sample my wares. And I have to say that I did not find that idea, although far-fetched, disagreeable.

The day finally arrived when Dr. Greenberg himself was to inspect his work and, hopefully, discharge me with my kit in full working-order and fit for purpose. Surprisingly he had fixed the final appointment for 5:30 on a Friday afternoon, by which time, in my utter naivety, I had imagined he would have been be long gone.

Chapter 8

I was received, as ever, by Jeremy, who asked me to strip and then went on to remove what I hoped would be the final dressings from my cock and balls. The operation wounds had scarred over completely and were barely visible at all anymore. And as I stood, yet again, in front of that large wall mirror gazing at what I now thought of as my renovated tool kit, a wave of satisfaction coursed through my veins as I realised that it had all been very worth-while. Here I was, a very sexually active ninteen-year-old gay stud, at the beginning of my adult life, with a huge, well-proportioned penis descending proudly like a rubbery sausage over my balls, which were now, thanks to Dr. Greenberg, tightly held against my pelvis.

The removal of that foreskin, which had plagued my life to date, had made me what I now thought of as normal. I told myself that I was now like any other normal American stud: a regular, sexually active guy, who, like most other men of my generation, had been circumcised. But I knew I was kidding myself, as my cock was anything but normal in size, a fact I had known since my school days. But whereas I had formerly been embarrassed at the way it looked, even though it had nevertheless been admired by everyone who saw it because of its size, now, standing in front of that mirror and seeing myself for the first time in my life as others saw me, I was truly proud of my appearance.

Devoid of any pubic hair to detract from what, to my eyes at least, had been transformed into what I now thought of as my magnificent sex cannon, I was myself bowled over by the way my cock and balls looked. I particularly liked the way in which my newly exposed cockhead, encumbered no longer by even the slightest remnants of that hated foreskin, stood out proudly with its well-defined rim, from what was a magnificently proportioned shaft, which even though still flaccid, had what I thought of as a presence;it certainly made a statement of purpose to anyone who saw it.. My cock did not hang there like a limp rag, as is so often the case, but, even soft as it now was, somehow gave the observer the message that it was ready for its next call to duty, which to my great surprise was to be much sooner than I had ever anticipated.

I was unaware of it at that precise moment as I narcissistically wallowed in a few moments of self admiration; but what I had thought would be my sign-off meeting with Dr. Greenberg, in the event proved to be anything but that. In fact, what happened next was to change my entire life fundamentally. Jeremy, having prepped me for my final examination by the great man himself, had left me alone to wait for Dr. Greenberg’s arrival, contemplating not my proverbial navel, but my most precious bodily accoutrements: to wit, my cock and balls. The surgeon arrived and I could see from his eyes as he examined my cock that he was totally enthralled by the sheer size of what he was examining. Having finished his examination and pronouncing it again fit for purpose, he stood back and looked at me for a few moments before saying:

“Well, young-man, I hope that you are as satisfied as I myself am with the results of the cosmetic modifications, which I have made to what I am sure you consider your most precious parts of your body. Now, Stan – it was the first time he had used my name, which immediately alerted me to a change in our hitherto, strictly professional relationship – I have a proposition to make to you, which you are free to accept or reject as you best see fit. But I do hope, basically for my own selfish sake, I will freely admit, that you will accept it. And, by the way, I think it might be easier from now on, if you called me Alan rather than Dr. Greenberg.”

So there I had it; we were now Stan and Alan. I sat, metaphorically, glued to the edge of my seat – actually I was standing-up as he said these words – wondering what he was about to propose to me, but with the tingling excitement provoked by a sudden release of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“What I had in mind, was that if you were willing to allow me to be the first person to be privileged to experience what I think of as the sexual delights of your new self– that was the strange way in which he began his proposition – then I would be happy to waive my entire fees for my services.” That was how he put it. So there I had it in a nutshell; he wanted me to fuck him; for which service he was willing to pay $750.-: the fee he had proposed to me and which I had accepted for his professional services.

Well, yes; but that was not quite all, as he then went on and added a rider. “As you will have gathered by now, if it had not occurred to you earlier, I am myself, like you, a practising gay. So, Stan, dealing with sexual problems like yours is part and parcel of my daily life; it is what I do to earn my living. And so I see a lot of young men’s sexual meat. But I can tell you categorically, that what you possess between your legs is unlike anything I have ever seen in my entire career to date. You just have what I think has to be one of the most perfect penises in the world. Certainly I have never personally seen anything even remotely to compare with its glory. And that is why, Stan, I would like to be the first person, putting it in polite language, to have congress with it.”

“But in addition to being gay, I also have another little perversion, vice, foible; call it what you will. I actually enjoy having my bare buttocks caned – and I mean caned really hard – before sex. So if you agree, what I want you to do, is to give me twelve really good cuts with a cane across my bare ass and then go on and fuck me as hard as you can. And then as I have said, for those two acts, rendered on just one occasion with no strings attached, I will forgo the $750.- fee I proposed to charge you for my professional services. It’s what is known as a quid pro quo;in simpler language; you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. So, Stan, what do you say? Will you give it a whirl or not?”

I was completely surprised by this proposition, which had come like a bolt out of the blue. My god, had he only known, I would have gladly fucked him free, gratis and for nothing and paid his professional fees into the bargain for what he had done for my self-esteem. But here he was, proposing to pay me what amounted to a fee of $750.-, an enormous sum for me, for a service which would give me as much pleasure as I supposed it would give to him. Having experienced the pain of a naked- ass paddling only once in my school career, I found it hard to believe that anyone in his right mind would voluntarily offer his own, bare backside for such punishment; and with a cane yet!

What a severe punishment he was proposing that I inflict on him. Like most Americans, I had no experience of the cane, but I could see by its very nature, concentrating the force of the blow on a small area compared with the wide spread, which the traditional, American school-paddle achieved, would be an excruciatingly painful experience. But there are horses for courses; and if that is what he wanted, then who was I, a naïve, nineteen-year-old, with little or no experience of life outside the narrow orbit in which I had lived and operated all my life to date, to question him? However, one thing I had learned from his request was that I still had a lot to learn about gay sex and its wider ramifications.

But Alan needed an answer to his question; would I or would I not play ball? So I did what I suppose anyone might have done in my position; I prevaricated: “Alan, I have to point out to you that have no experience whatsoever of administering any form of corporal punishment to anyone and I am not sure that I am capable of doing what you have requested. Also, I do not possess a cane, which is the implement with which you apparently wish to have your backside beaten. But I also have to point out to you that even though I am an active gay, and like you totally homosexual in my sex life, I am not a foot-loose-and-fancy-free-type who regularly fucks around.”

“For your information, I must tell that I have one partner only, and that we both consider ourselves to be an item. Moreover my partner is to date, the only person with whom I have ever had sex. So you see, Alan, you are, in fact, requesting a complete novice in matters sexual to do what you have just proposed. But, when, I might ask, if I were to agree to your request, where and when would the desired – I hesitated before I said the word – congress between us take place?”

“Well,” he replied, “I see no point in letting the grass grow under our feet; so if you are agreeable, why not here right now?”

He obviously had the bit between his teeth and was not in any mood to be deflected from his objective, which he pursued with a single-mindedness of purpose, which verged on obsession. So when I pleaded incapacity to be physically able to perform the task, saying: “But Alan, I am not sure if, at this precise moment, I am physically capable of raising the flag,” he was not to be deflected from his objective, as he replied: “Stan, don’t worry about that; I can take care of it and I guaranteed that within five minutes of your acceptance, I can have you rock-hard and raring to go. So, Stanley – my full name now – what’s your answer? Will you or won’t you do it? Come on, Stan; you know you want to; so why not try out your newly reconditioned kit here and now? After two weeks of enforced celibacy, you must be absolutely dying for a fuck. Come on, Stan; break your fast with me; I just know you’ll enjoy it; in fact, we both will.”

The point of no return had been reached and I had to say yes or no to his proposition. What would Carlo think of me if I said yes? He would have to know what had happened: what I had done; my conscience would not allow me to keep anything from him. Would he see it as a betrayal of our relationship, which to me was the most precious thing in the world? But then I thought of his continued disappointment that I had not hitherto felt able to join him on his cruising of the gay night spots in Chicago in search of casual, recreational sex. What Alan had done for me physically had also liberated me from any psychological inhibitions I had hitherto had, of having sex with guys other than Carlos and becoming an active member of that part of the gay community which Carlos frequented, as an integral part of his life and in which I felt I would now be able to participate.

Any sexual activity I would have with Alan would be nothing more than a physical act; no doubt pleasurable for both of us, but as devoid of any emotional commitment as were the recreational sex acts in which Carlo himself regularly indulged. I was not and never had been jealous of Carlo’s sexual activity over and beyond our personal relationship; and so, I reasoned to myself, as I prepared to accept Alan’s proposition, Carlo would have no need to feel jealous of was, after all, nothing more than a commercial transaction. And so, I said that I accepted his proposition. Not to have done so would truly have been to look a gift horse in the mouth.

From my point of view, providing that I had not misjudged Carlo’s potential response to – let us call it, for want of a better word – my delinquency, as far as I could see, I was in a win-win position. I would be $750.- better off; I would have dipped my sleek, new oar into welcoming waters; and I would have added a complementary string to my bow: that of administering corporal punishment. I was still amazed that anyone would offer his body voluntarily to be beaten, but I found myself looking forward to the actual performance of the act of flagellation. Naïve though I still was, I was aware of the fact that whenever I myself had been paddled at school, I had always experienced an embarrassing erection, with my cock pushing hard against the crotch of my pants. So I was acutely aware of the relationship between corporal punishment and sex and found myself looking forward to wielding the cane across Alan’s naked ass before going on to fuck him. The decision taken, I could barely wait to get started.

Chapter 9

Alan smiled broadly at my acceptance of his offer and said: “That’s absolutely great, Stan; come one let’s get started; we have jawed on long enough about this; now is the time for action. Leave your clothes here. You can come back and collect them later after the deed is done; so follow me. Look, just let me give you an injection to nullify the effects of the stuff you have been taking for the past two weeks to avoid an erection. The time has come for you to see and test-out your re-worked meat in all its rampant glory as that is what we both need right now. Within minutes, Stan, you will be ready to go as never before, believe me.”

He led me through a door giving onto what was clearly a private part of his vast apartment; into what he referred to as his recreation room.Corporal punishment was obviously a regular part of his life for hanging from hooks on one wall were several long, slender canes of varying diameters, of which the largest appeared to be just less than half an inch. The room had a few, low, leather-covered couches and what looked like a padded medical examination table, also leather covered, the height of which, as I immediately saw, could be adjusted by some sort of electrical mechanism. There were also several full-length mirrors on the walls.

The good doctor was not slow in readying himself for what he clearly considered the pleasures of the cane and rapidly discarded all his clothes, revealing a physique which, like mine, testified to regular work-outs in the gym. I felt a twinge of excitement run through my body as I saw, that my partner was a very attractive, sexy looking guy, whose penis, although not in any way comparable to mine, was a respectable size and, was already indicating its readiness for what was about to happen. I felt my own cock beginning to stir at the sight of the attractive sex partner which Alan had now revealed himself to be. He then went across and selected the heaviest of the canes from the wall and handed it to me.

“I know you were shocked when I told you want I wanted you to do to me. But I think that once you get started, you might enjoy the act of inflicting pain on someone else. Believe me, Stan, it will turn both of us on sexually; you do know, don’t you, that sex and corporal punishment are partners crime and go hand-in-hand? Just look at that automatic thermometer between your legs; its temperature is already rising just at the thought of what you are about to do to me; it is telling you that it wants to play ball, Stan; so why not just let it? Look, Stan, why don’t you try giving a few practice strokes with the cane to the back of that armchair over there to get the feel of the thing before you address my backside with it?”

“What I want you to do is to give my ass a really thorough whacking with the cane I have just handed you. I want you to use maximum force as you bring the cane down through the air. Don’t worry if you break my skin and there are spots of blood; it’s all grist for the mill; part of the overall experience for both of us. So don’t hold back, as I really want to feel that I have been well and properly beaten. This is not make-believe; I want to feel real pain; but I also want you to enjoy giving it to me just as much as I will in receiving it. Believe me, Stan, once you get started, you will find that you quickly get the taste for it. As you will see, it is a very erotic experience in itself and an excellent prelude to sex. I bet you a dime to a dollar that by the time you have given me two cuts with the cane, you cock will be rock-hard and raring to exercise its true destiny.”

“Now, I want you to give me twelve cuts, ten of which you should place from top to bottom of my ass, as parallel as you can manage it; and then as the coup de grace; I want you to place the final two cuts as a diagonal cross, to complete what I hope will be a truly artistic – if somewhat temporary – picture on my backside. If you succeed, I will be the proud possessor of what is known in the CCP circles, which I frequent, as a well beaten ass;and your cock will testify to the satisfaction you have yourself derived from creating a minor masterpiece of flagellative art, by exuding a little of your life-giving juice, as an indication of its readiness to carry through the drama to its completion, which will be achieved when you fuck me.”

I listened, somewhat, mesmerised, to what had been a truly eloquent, if somewhat direct statement of intent. He had left no doubt whatsoever in my mind, but that he was deadly serious about the pain he wanted me to inflict on his ass. So, even with my initial misgivings, on the principle, that he who pays the piper calls the tune, I was now ready to do what he wanted. And, my cock, newly liberated from its forced celibacy of two weeks by the shot he had just given me, was already indicating its readiness for action; it had already started on it upward journey and would soon be straining at the leash to be let free to fulfil its assuage its immediate desire. With all my initial misgivings, I knew from what my cock was telling me, that I was actually looking forward to both parts of the deal which I had agreed with Alan. After all this verbal foreplay, I now knew that I wanted to cane him hard, as he had requested and then go on to fuck him, exactly as much as I had wanted to have sex with Carlo when we first met in the school’s gym.

Alan went across to the table and bent over the end of it, grasping the edges with his hands and pulling himself forward so that his beautifully rounded ass was ready to receive the cane. As I prepared myself for what was to be my first act ever of flagellation, I saw that his bubble-buns bore traces of what had clearly been a previous beating, as the marks left on his skin by the cane were still faintly visible. I looked down at my own rigidity and saw what was by any standards, my magnificent fuck-stick with its superb head now fully exposed thanks to Alan’s skill with the scalpel, already exuding the first drops of cum in anticipation of the pleasures to come. I suddenly saw that the caning I was about to give my partner – for that was what we had become to each other by the complicity of our actions – could be considered as erotic foreplay for what I was to do to him, once I had finished striping his ass with the cane.

Those few seconds which I spent contemplating my partner’s beautiful buttocks before I brought down the cane for the first time, confirmed to me with a vengeance, as if any confirmation had still been necessary, the strong relationship between corporal punishment and anal sex, which, unbeknown to me at that moment, was to come to dominate my life from now on.

As I raised the cane above my head to apply the first stroke in what was to become my maiden act of flagellation, I had that feeling of exhilaration, which the release of adrenaline into the system creates in a split second, so much so that I could barely control myself, so strong was the urging of my cock to be allowed to start its part in the action. Frankly, I had never been in such a psyched-up state of sexual readiness as I was at that moment. I just felt – no, I just knew – that this was to be a unique experience like no other, in my limited, but nonetheless, very satisfactory sex-life to date. What I did not realise at that specific moment, was that what I was about do to, but also with, Alan, was about to change my life forever.

The cane landed on the crown of Alan’s waiting buttocks with what I was quickly to learn was the characteristic crack of well-seasoned rattan mating with what many connoisseurs observers consider to be its god-given destiny; the naked flesh of a young-man’s buttocks. I was amazed by the speed at which the furrow, which I had just ploughed across his ass, coloured up to a vivid red and I saw that with my first stroke, I had managed to break the skin in the odd place, from which blood was already oozing. For a moment I thought that I had possibly already gone too far with the vigour of my attack; but I was reassured as my victim,for at that moment, that is exactly how I suddenly thought of him, let out a cry: “There you go, Stan; you see it’s not at all difficult once you get started. You, young-man, have all the makings of a first class disciplinarian. Believe me, Stan, when I say that a man with your obvious talent will be in great demand. But for the moment, kindly continue the good work; one down and eleven to go!”

“In great demand by whom?”, I thought to myself, as I continued with the caning, attempting to provide him with that much desired – at least by him – well-beaten-ass, I was sort of appalled – but not completely – with myself, when I found myself truly enjoying what I was doing: inflicting severe pain on a guy who had done me no wrong and who, unbelievably was actually paying me to beat the hell out of his backside. It totally beggared belief, but there it was; so as we both appeared to be enjoying what I was doing – he the pain and me the giving of it – I gave my all to the job to hand.

After I had landed the twelfth and final stroke, I stood back to admire my handiwork. I have admit that, never before having used a cane in my life, I was both shocked at the the raw mess I had made of his ass, but at the same time satisfied that I had, so far, been able to keep my part of the bargain. At the same time my conscience was bothering me as I felt I should not be enjoying what I was doing. But there was no gainsaying what I knew in my heart to be true. I had just discovered that I had a sadistic streak, of which I had, until now, been totally unaware: a streak which had just given me great erotic pleasure in administering pain to someone. I was ashamed of myself, but no amount of soul searching was going to change the fact that I had thoroughly enjoyed beating the hell out of Alan’s ass. And my rock-hard cock, which clearly had less conscience than it owner, was showing it obvious approval of what its owner – me – had just done, by its liberal, oozing emissions of semen.

Frankly, as I stood there partially appalled by what I had just done, but also quite pleased with the results I had achieved, judging from the positive reaction of the recipient of my first effort at the not-so-gentle-art of flagellation. And what exactly had Alan meant when he had said that I had all the makings of a first class disciplinarian and that my obvious talent would be in great demand? This was a one-off agreement between him and me and not something which was destined to become a routine activity part of my life.

We moved now into territory on which I felt on much firmer ground: that of anal copulation. I had hoped to allow Carlo, the only person with whom I had hitherto ever had sex, to have the honour of being what I fancifully had thought of as the godfather to my improved man-meat; but this was not to be, as I had succumbed to the temptation of money and agreed that Alan should have that pleasure. And as both he and I were catching our respective breaths after the beating I had just given him, it suddenly hit me; I had sold my body to him for money! In agreeing to his demands, I had prostituted myself; that, was the long and short of it. What I was in process of doing with Alan was an act of prostitution.

The sexual act I was about to perform with him had nothing whatsoever to do with any feelings of love between us, as had been the case between Carlo and me from the word go. This was a cold, professional deal in which I was being paid, what for me was a small fortune, to fuck a guy; a man, who was simply attracted by my cock and not not by me personally. I was a prostitute and he was my client. I was a bitter pill for me to swallow. But facts are facts and there was no denying the implication of what I was in the process of doing.

As I have already told you, I was blessed by nature with a particularly generous piece of meat between my legs. And now that I had got rid of that irksome foreskin, which for so long has annoyed me like hell, there was no denying, as I could see for myself, looking down at my rigid ten inches, crowned by a gleaming cock head, that I had, by any standards, a magnificently attractive fuck-stick. I could see why Alan, a practising gay as he undoubtedly was, was attracted by the possibility of experiencing in action an exceptionally large penis on which he had just worked his magic; and moreover, he was prepared to pay well over the odds for the privilege. Had I wanted to refuse his request, I could have said so at the outset. But the thought of $750.- had been just too strong an incentive for an impoverished guy like me to turn down.

And so, as I prepared myself to fuck Alan, I found myself in a position of self-doubt entirely of my own making. I hated the fact that I was in a situation that could potentially compromise my relationship with Carlo. After I had finished caning Alan, an act, which as I have already said, I had really enjoyed, I could have have withdrawn from the deal, leaving him sexually unsatisfied and disappointed, and paid him the $750.- for his surgical services. But at that very moment, as I looked down at my cock, I saw from its still rock-hard stiffness – it had stood to erection to witness the beating and had then chosen to to remain like that – that it was now signalling to me its desire to play its part in the drama. Even though I knew that I could ignore the base animal instincts I was experiencing, I suddenly looked myself figuratively in the face and accepted a fact, which I had not manage to acknowledge to myself until now; with or without the signals from my cock, I desperately wanted to have sex with Alan.

As I tried in my own mind to rationalise my decision, I knew in my heart of hearts that it was now sheer sexual lust of one man for another which was attracting me to Alan Once the ball had started rolling with the caning, which I had reluctantly finally admitted to myself that I had enjoyed, I just knew I had to go on; in fact, being completely honest with myself, I knew now that I wanted to go on. I suppose one of the reasons I used mentally to justify my actions to myself, was the fact that I desperately wanted to have sex with a man other than Carlo. And so why not with Alan, who had the advantage of also wanting to have sex with me and was physically attractive to boot? So, mentally, having rationalised to myself my own desire to have sex with him as best I could, I turned to him to him to ask him how he wanted to proceed. My cock, which was pointing directly at him, like an enormous accusatory finger, said it all about its readiness to serve; and I could see from the gleam in his eyes that he was looking forward with obvious pleasure, to the moment when I would actually shaft him.

“Stan, you may not be aware of the fact, but I took a sample of your blood during surgery, which I have tested for HIV. I am happy to tell you that you tested negative and are, therefore, not a carrier. I have to tell you that as a practising gay myself, I regularly check my own blood to make sure that I myself have not become contaminated in any of my recent dalliances. However, young man, both you and I are, as the saying goes, as pure as Caesar’s wife.Stan, you are a very attractive sexy, young man, with a world-beater of a penis, which frankly, from the moment I first examined you, I knew I wanted to sample. Now, whenever I have sex, which like most practising gays I do quite often, I always insist that both parties to the act, myself and my partner, use a condom. However, as you and I are both HIV negative, and there is no risk of infection for either of us, I want to ask you how you would feel about having sex with me bareback.”

“You do understand, I am sure, that I want you to fuck me (Alan did not hesitate to use the F word to say what he wanted) and as I am sure you will agree, there is no substitute for the pleasure of a flesh to flesh encounter. So what do you say? Are you on for it? Do not hesitate to say no, if you would feel more comfortable using a condom, as there is nothing in our agreement about having sex bare-back. It’s just, and I am sure you will agree with me, that bare-back sex is so much better for both participants. So will you do it?”

I was knocked off balance by his request, which had some like a bolt out of the blue. I agreed with his sentiment that bare-back sex was the pinnacle of the act of gay anal copulation; but by acceding to his request, I would be depositing my semen inside him, which seemed to render the act more intimate; and I did not see our proposed union as other than a commercial proposition. I had no idea exactly what he was hoping to experience with me, other than that he wanted to experience my huge endowment, flesh on flesh up his ass. I had learned from looking at gay porn sites on the internet, that when guys fucked each other, usually the top did not climax inside of his partner during the act and that his partner, the bottom, normally masturbated himself whilst he was being fucked. In fact, what appeared normally to be the case, to reach orgasm, both partners finally worked their cocks manually; so when they climaxed, it was independently of each other and they shot their loads anywhere and everywhere. The end result, which between Carlo and me, whether bare-back or not, always led to mutual orgasm which bound us together as an item, was totally absent from most acts of casual sex, as far as I could see.

Anyway I agreed that I would fuck him bare-back as he was paying right royally for the privilege and asked him as if he had any preferred position. “Any position is OK with me, so long as you are able to fuck me really hard, as I want to feel the full effect of your battering ram of a dick and I adore rough sex when I am playing bottom.”

So I decided that as the choice was left to me, I would take him in what was my own favourite position: lying on his back, with his ass to the edge of the table, with me holding his legs vertical, firmly against my body. It was the position I always adopted with Carlo whenever he wanted me – as he often did – to be really rough with him. I found with Carlo in that position I was able to hold him firmly and address his anus with my cock with considerable force from that standing position. By way of preparation, I asked Alan to place his feet on the edge of the table, from which position I saw for the first time his tight, little anus, which I duly lubricated to ensure smooth entry. Then having generously lubricated my own rock-hard stick, I pulled his legs into the air and prepared to shaft him. My gleaming cock-head made short shrift of the automatic clenching of his anal sphincter muscles and once my cockhead was inside of him, I was able in one, long, firm but smooth and unhurried thrust, to give Alan his first, desired taste of my thick, rigidly-erect fuck-stick.

As I bottomed my pelvis firmly against his ass, giving him my full ten inches, I heard him emit a groan of contentment as he felt the pleasure for the first time, of what I imagined to be the deepest penetration he had ever experienced. But you also have to remember that this was a sort of double-first for me too: the first time I was exercising my modified cock on anyone; and the first time I was having sex with anyone other than Carlo. I cannot tell you what a relief it was to feel my now gorgeously unencumbered cockhead stretch my new partner’s anal muscles and slide smoothly inside him.

Alan turned out to be a master in the art of bottoming, if such expertise exists. As soon as my cockhead itself was inside of him, he clenched his sphincters sharply, gripped my shaft directly below the rim of the head and momentarily gave my cock a sort of welcoming embrace with what were his obviously highly-trained anal muscles. He then, maintained his grip on my shaft and made me work hard to achieve full penetration. Exquisite is a word I rarely use; but I know of no other word to express the feeling of utter pleasure that I experienced from the simple act of achieving that initial full penetration.

I was, of course, keen to show Alan just how good anal sex could be in the hands of an expert top, which, not boasting, I knew I was. But Alan, an obvious connoisseur of the finer points of anal sex, had pipped me at the post, by showing me just how much an expert bottom could contribute to the mutual pleasure of the act of gay sex. On the numerous occasions I had fucked Carlo, I had never experienced anything quite like it. We remained together for a full minute, enjoying the pleasure that just the act of penetration had clearly given both of us. He then said to me: “Well Stan, that took you by surprise, didn’t it. I am sure you were not expecting the guy, who is playing bitch to your dog, to pull a trick like that out of the bag. Now, young man, it’s your turn to surprise me. Remember, I would like some really rough, hard sex from you; you have the equipment to do it; so let me see if you really can deliver.”

As a matter of pride, since I now saw that I was having sex with a true connoisseur of anal intercourse, I had every intention of fulfilling his wish to the full. However, at the same I decided that I would not simply sacrifice my own inimitable technique, which I had honed – as I myself saw it – to the peak of perfection in my numerous sexual communions with Carlo. I would not abandon my standard approach to anal copulation on the altar of brutality, by going hell-for-leather at his anus in the way I had seen happen so many times in porno-videos on the internet. I intended to show Alan that even though this was in all likelihood a one-off occasion between the two of us, he had fortuitously chosen, out of pure lust for an exceptional penis, a partner of quality and sensibility, who would inject a feeling of mutuality into what was for both of us nothing more than a lustful carnal act, devoid of any higher feelings between us; but an act, which, if sensitively performed, could lead to one of the most sublime sensations for both partners, which any man could ever experience.

The generous size of my cock allowed me to give my partner strokes of exceptional length, not physically possible to a guy with a more normal endowment. And so, I began in my usual manner by withdrawing myself almost completely from my partner before gently thrusting my full length back into him. I saw immediately that as I had commenced fucking him that he had started working his cock with his right hand, as bottoms always seem to do, at least in the porn-videos I had seen on the internet. “Sir,” I said, (Why I addressed the guy I was fucking as sir, I had no idea; but I did) “Allow me to assure you, sir, that you will have no need to assist me in taking you through to a climax. So if you would kindly stop masturbating yourself and leave everything to me, I assure you, sir, that your wildest dreams will be realised. So please leave everything to me, sir, as I have no need of any assistance. The only thing I would ask you to do, is to hold your kit out of the way of my pounding as I would hate accidentally to crush your balls as I build up my force.”

He did as I had requested and I gradually built up the speed and force of my strokes to satisfy his wish for hard sex. But I also took great care to ensure that every single stroke was of the full-length of my stick. And so I built up the tension between us until I was pounding Alan’s anus as hard as I could. I could see and hear that he was in seventh heaven as he repeatedly urged me not to stop. But, of course, things had to be brought to the ultimate climax; so when I saw that even he, in the submissive position of bottom, was on the edge of the precipice and could hold himself back no longer from jumping, I gave him that one final thrust, to bring us both to a simultaneous climax, thereby giving us both those few, mind-bendingly marvellous, fleeting seconds which only an orgasm can give to a man.

It is a feeling like no other and is as addictive as heroine, without any of the inherent dangers associated with the taking of drugs. As I pumped my ever generous load into him, so he simultaneously ejaculated his own, thick, creamy spunk, which landed all over my chest and lower torso in a series of violent, incontrollable jerks. I was completely satisfied with my performance, which I considered had been a triumph of my first venture into the field of one-off, casualsex.

“My god,” he said, as I finally withdrew my by now flagging cock from his anus, “That, Stan, was one hell of a performance, the likes of which I have never before experienced; and just let me tell you that I have experienced a lot. Stan, I kid you not, but I have never before been in a clinch where I was bottoming and was taken right through to the most intense orgasm I have ever had in my life, without having to give my cock some manual assistance. But I don’t only mean when I was bottoming, as I just was with you. You have just given me the greatest and most intense orgasm I have ever had in my life, including the many occasions when I myself was acting as top and doing the job on my partner’s ass that you just did on me.”

“That is now the benchmark against which all others will henceforth be measured by me. Frankly, I doubt that I shall ever experience the like again, unless it is in a repeat session with you. You, Stan, are utterly amazing; you are not only exceptionally well equipped for the job – my god, what a cock you have; but I don’t think I need to tell you that – but you also know how to use it. You, Stan, are a grand-master at the art of anal sex. Come on, young man; let’s get ourselves cleaned up after all that hard work; and then I will buy you dinner; this place has a good restaurant on the first floor.”

Chapter 10

Getting ourselves cleaned-up took place in a large shower room off the room where the action we had just enjoyed together had taken place. It was obvious that Alan gave larger parties than the tête-à-tête, or possibly better put, cock-to-anus congress, which we had just enjoyed together, as there was a large, walk-in shower with three independent shower heads with enough space comfortably to accommodate six guys at one time. So it seemed obvious to me, that the good doctor exercised his sexual libido in the companyof like minded friends. And here occurred what I can but describe as a repeat performance of my initial introduction to gay sex which I had had with Carlo when he robbed me of my anal virginity under the showers in the school gym, thereby introducing me to the joys of anal sex.

Alan was standing behind me under the shower and we were both soaped up when he suddenly, without any warning, gripped my hips with both hands and thrust his own hard cock between my buttocks and straight into my anus. Caught, as I was, utterly unaware, I did nothing to resist his onslaught as he rapidly fucked me, evidently to satisfy his own need, which I guess was to show me that he too was capable of being a firm and decisive top. But what he did not succeed in doing as he went hell for leather at me with his cock, was to take me through to orgasm with him. The episode ended as he dumped his second load of the evening deep inside me, leaving me to jerk myself off to completion.

So my experience with Alan, who had just become only the second man with whom I had ever had sex, gave me the feeling that I truly did have something special to offer: something, which he, even with his extensive experience, could not himself achieve. I can tell you that the sexual experiences I had just gone through with Alan, even though they had been precipitated by his personal desire, as a dedicated gay, to experience my exceptional sexual endowment, had done more for me and my self-confidence than he could ever have imagined. Alan was only the second person with whom I had ever had sex in my life, but after what we had done together, I felt that I now had the confidence to acquit myself successfully in any sexual encounter I might have. I knew that I had arrived with a vengeance on the gay scene and looked forward to the pleasures that it would no doubt offer me as an active player. But nothing we had just done, prepared me for what was about to happen over dinner with Alan.

A little later, relaxing together over an excellent meal in the restaurant, Alan asked me for the first time, what did for a living, a subject on which, as doctor and patient, we had not hitherto touched. When I told him that I worked in a supermarket he pulled a face and said: “Listen, Stan, and I am being completely serious, having just sampled myself the merchandise you have to offer, that magnificent piece of man-meat you have between your legs, in my view, is worth its weight in gold to you. Look my friend, you claim to be naïve and inexperienced when it comes to sex and tell me that I am only the second guy in your life with whom you have had sex. Well, just let me tell you that inexperienced though you may be, when it comes to fucking, you are an absolute star. This is not said to flatter you; and I kid you not. You, Stan, just gave me the absolute, greatest, sexual experience of my life; and believe me; I’ve had plenty; so you can take my word for it, as I know what I am talking about.”

“Look, why don’t you try your hand – or perhaps I should I say, your cock – as a male escort.” As Alan said this, I had no idea what a male escort was, but I soon found out as he continued: “This city is loaded with guys who have very deep pockets into which they are prepared to delve for services such as you have just rendered me.There is an unbelievable undercurrent of homosexuality and corporal punishment just waiting to be tapped by guys with your capability. You would be amaze how many men, sometimes happily married – or so they claim – enjoy having sex with another guy.”

“Take me as an example; I am a successful surgeon, but I am as gay as a coot and enjoy having sex with other guys, some of which I pay for and some of which I get for free from my friends. But I can tell you, quite categorically, Stan, that you, young man, are a very rare bird; not only are you a handsome young stud with a well-ripped body, but you have mind-blowing equipment and really know how to use it. So why not consider using it to your financial advantage by going professional? With my eyes closed, I can tell you here and now, you will be a star. It’s a darned sight more interesting than working in a supermarket. And from what I have just sampled of your capability, one thing is sure: you really do enjoy exercising your cock on another guy’s ass: and it shows.”

It now hit me what Alan was proposing. He was suggesting that I sell my body for sex as a means of making a living!My first reaction was one of horror; what he was suggesting was that I prostitute myself, an activity which had never even crossed my mind. Sure, I knew that I enjoyed sex, which thanks to Carlo had become an important part of my life. And the work I had had done on my penis had been specifically so that could join him in the foot-loose-and-fancy-free life style which he practised, meant that gay sex would, in the near future become an even more important factor in my life. That I enjoyed sex, there was no question but; but that was not the point; to see it, as Alan had suggested, as a means of earning my living, seemed beyond the pale.

“Alan, if I understand you correctly, what you are suggesting, is that I become a male prostitute. Look, I admit that I do enjoy gay sex, both as a top and a bottom, but I don’t think I would be willing to sell myself for money to earn my living.”

“But that, my dear Stan, is precisely what you have just done with me. I have paid you $750.- for your services; so you have taken money in exchange for sex. In cold, hard terms, you have, to use your word, prostituted yourself. And don’t try to tell me that you didn’t enjoy the experience just as much as I did; so why don’t you face the fact and just admit it. Stan, for better or for worse, you have a natural gift and you know how to use it to perfection for its intended purpose. And since both you and your first client – that’s me, by the way – enjoyed it, why not do it professionally?”

“Face the facts, Stan, you could not afford to turn your back on the money I offered you to cane me and fuck my ass; and in accepting my cash, you sold me your body. If it makes you feel any better, I can tell you that if I had been in your shoes, I would have done exactly the same. I think you could earn a good living as a male escort, doing something which also gives you great pleasure. It takes all sorts to make the world in which we live, Selling sex for money is just one profession, which has always been around; it is as old as man himself. You have the gift for gay sex; so why not use it to your advantage?”

“Look, Stan, All you need to get started is an independent mobile phone dedicated to your, let us call them business calls. Give me the number and I can put it around in the right circles where it really counts, that there is a new star on the horizon. It’s a sort of suck it and see approach. If you get no calls, then you have not lost much. But my guess is that with the sort of build up in the right ears that I will be able to give you, you will not have to wait long for your first client. And once the ball gets rolling and word gets around as to what you have to offer, I think you will be swamped with business. You cannot imagine the number of high-level businessmen who are out there and are looking for an exceptional sexual experience, for which they are prepared to shell out top dollar. What you have between your legs is a machine which will allow you to print money; lots of it!”

“I understand that the present going rate in Chicago for upmarket male escorts is $350 to $450; and that is just for sex. If a guy wants CP as well, then you can charge more. With what you have to offer, I would think for the whole enchilada, which is what you have just given me, you could charge as a minimum what I paid you to sample your wares: $750.- . Just to put your mind at rest, I am completely satisfied with what you did for me and thought it was well worth the cash. Stan, you have to understand that you are totally exceptional when it comes to anal sex; you have a tool which few men, if indeed any, can equal; and when you use it, well, I cannot begin to tell you what a superbly unique cocks-man you are. I can tell you honestly that I have never, ever had an experience like the one you gave me this evening.”

I left Alan with his glowing comments about my unique capability, ringing in my ears. His fulsome praise, coupled with the similar comments about my sexual dexterity which Carlo had lavished on me, were now making me think that there was possibly something special about me. They were both so positive in their comments, that by the time I got back to our apartment, I was well on the way to believing them. Carlo was, of course, eager to see the results of my operation. And as soon as he saw the magnificent job Alan had done on my penis, I was immediately obliged to allow him to sample it, in what he obviously thought was its maiden voyage after a refit.

Not until I had finished fucking him and we were lying together in bed as a pair of sexually utterly satisfied lovers, did I tell him, not without considerable trepidation, of what had happened with Alan. I had had no idea what Carlo would think of what I myself considered as an act of betrayal. Here was I, having undergone a surgical procedure whose sole objective at time had been to improve our joint sex-life as an item. And what had I done? I had sold myself and allowed a third party to have the first taste of my new cock; an act which I knew should have been reserved for Carlo, my partner, to whom I owed my entire present life.

To my intense relief, Carlo’s reaction was laconically relaxed. I suppose as a man, who was living with his lover as a solid item, but who nevertheless still wanted to continue to play the field in search of casual sex, he felt very secure. So he took a broader, unconcerned view of my dalliance with Alan than I, a sinner in my own eyes, imagined he would. He quite simply said: “Well finally, Stan, you felt able to have sex with someone other than me, which has liberated you from your greatest hang-up; and, into the bargain, you manage to turn a profit out of it. You, Stan, never cease to amaze me; and from what you have just told me about Alan’s comments, you also amazed him.”

“Stan, as both Alan and I have told you, you do have that something special which we lesser mortals do not have. Not only do you have a quite exceptional piece of man-meat, but you know how to use it in a way, of which few of us are capable. So just accept, Stan, that you are something special when it comes to gay sex; you have a natural gift, which sets you on a pedestal above us mere mortals. It is easy to see why Alan suggested that you should consider using it professionally. Look at it this way; you would be sharing a rare gift with lots of guys who would experience something unique.”

“But Carlo, if I do as Alan has suggested, I shall be prostituting myself; selling my body for money; and that seems morally wrong to me.”

“Listen Stan, get your feet firmly on the ground and cut the moralising bullshit. You have already prostituted yourself, by taking Alan for $750.- . So if you feel bad about it and need to clear your conscience, just go back to him and pay him the $750.- you owe him for the operation. But my reading of the situation is that you do not, in fact, feel bad about what you did with Alan; On the contrary, both you and he feel good about what you did together; you both enjoyed yourselves. Just note I said: what you did with Alan and not what you did to Alan. Do you know what I think, Stan? I think that Alan, by getting you to do what you did, showed you your true self.”

“You were totally inhibited because of your cock until Alan worked his surgical magic on it for you. And then, having done that for you – and I have to say that in my opinion he did a superb job, as you now have a cock to die for: a one in a million piece of kit – he went on and showed you what you could do with it. And, not only did he show you how to use it, but he paid you $750.- to boot. In my view, Alan is little short of a saint in what he has done for you. Not only did he correct what you saw as a physical deformity of your penis, but he also went on a showed you your true self.”

“Look, Stan, you like sex; it is a key activity in your life, as I know full well. But you also have a gift that few of us have; we can all fuck butt, but not in the way that you do; so my view is that you should go ahead and use it. And if it turns out that it is a means of earning a good living, then why not? Come on face facts, Stan; you like to fuck and if you can do what you really enjoy and get paid for it, well, it has to be better than working in a supermarket. And now that you have shared yourself with another guy, there is no reason that you should not join me on one of my recreational sex trawls, as I have long urged you to do.”

“But, Carlo, if I do as Alan and you suggest, what will that do to our personal relationship?”

“Absolutely nothing! Look, what we have together, is rock-solid; we are two, mating halves of anitem, as you choose to call it, which as far as I am concerned, wild horses could not pull apart. Stan, just look at yourself for a second; you put up with my philandering in search of casual sex with other guys; and why? Don’t you realise that the thing we have together; the thing, which hold us together, is called love. When we have sex together, it goes beyond the mere physical coupling, as it is an act of love; and that, my friend, is what holds us together: the spiritual bond of love for each other.”

“So whether I continue to seek casual sex beyond our relationship; or whether or not you now decide to joint me on my foraging adventures; or whether I occasionally give a client the odd quickie in one of those private rooms at the gym, which I confess I do, by the way: or whether you decide to earn your living by selling your body as a male escort, are all irrelevant to our personal relationship, They are all simply physical acts of carnality, which have nothing at all to do with the sort of relationship which you and I have together.”

So you can easily see how Alan’s suggestion that I attempt to capitalise on my quite exceptional sexual equipment and my unique ability in using it, bolstered by the positive position taken by Carlo, persuaded me to give the idea a whirl. As Carlo had said, it had to be better than working on a supermarket. So I did as Alan had suggested. I got myself a second mobile phone dedicated to my nascent business and chose, out of the blue, my business name, Alex, which sounded so much more sexily appropriate then either Stan or Stanley.

Need I say, that my business took off very quickly and that now, writing this, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, I am considered the doyen – good word that – of male escorts in the Chicago area. Whether I am or not, does not really matter, for I have made myself very rich. I never cease to be amazed just how much cash men are willing to shell out, to satisfy their sexual fantasies. For business, I rent a large studio apartment with a secluded, totally un-overlooked roof terrace, where I meet those of my clients who want corporal punishment in addition to sex, both of which, in warm weather, can be done al-fresco. It is difficult for a guy like me to arrive at a client’s office or his hotel, if a client wants me to thrash his ass in addition to sex. So if a client wants me to cane him, as many do, then he has to come to my studio, where I have all the necessary accoutrements to hand.

But I find that I conduct my business in the offices of many senior executives who use my services as well as in the hotel rooms of visiting businessmen to Chicago, many of whom claim to be straight, but who are searching for that anal experience which their wives cannot give them.

Carlo and I are still together and as much in love as were the first day we met each other in the school gym. We now live in a spacious spacious new condominium apartment which I bought for us, overlooking the Drake Hotel and the Playboy Building at the top of North Michigan Avenue. And we still enjoy together a recreational, casual-sex life, which adds spice to our settled life together. But whomever I fuck, either in my business or casually on the sexual cruising, which which Carlo and I regularly indulge in together, I am always thankful to go to bed every night with him, whether or not we have sex together, which I am happy to say, we still often do. I count myself very lucky to have found my life’s partner while we were both still at school.

I will end this account of how I became, quite by accident, a male escort at the suggestion of Alan Greenberg, by returning to him. Alan has a special place in my heart as he is only the second person with whom I had sex, which led me to where I am today. I still see him on a regular basis. At his request, as a good friend, I treat his ass to the thorough caning he adores, before I give him the ploughing, both of which I think he truly deserves as the godfather of my success.

THE END