Full Circle-Jerk

“Don’t even think about it!” I protest. But the handsome young jock ignores me. I might have guessed he would. Having whipped the glass of wine with which he was leading me crawling around the room after from out of my reach and grabbing his phone off the bedside table, this sumptuous young buck now proceeds to capture my undignified position on camera. Oh boy. How did it come to this? I’m a 42year old man, bare-arsed on my hands and knees, pleasantly tipsy from the liquor flowing at my mate David’s celebration bash for his new theatre gig at his house, most of the my old pals and other guests in similar states of booziness and similarly engaged with some of the fresh ‘talent’ David has invited along as entertainment, making a bloody fool of myself to get some of this fit lad who now seems ready to upload and share my humiliation with his mates. Oh , and wearing a pair of pink bunny ears that Eric (the said young man) has made me don for his amusement. Fuck.

But then again, I was no stranger to this kind of thing when I was his age. In fact, this October evenings delights put me in mind of a jarringly similar situation 22years ago...

In late 2001, an extremely rich and obscenely egomaniacal American businessman arrived on the scene of my hometown. We’ll call him Mike. He was a party animal on a gargantuan scale. About the same age as I am now. He threw his money and equally considerable weight around like no one I’d ever encountered before. And he had a passion for us young scene bucks. I think he probably went through all of us. But we were so dazzled by his wealth that we went along. He crowned this, his first foray onto our scene with a huge party in his penthouse suite of the exclusive hotel where he must have invited every lad under 25 and a few of his select older buddies which was basically an excuse for a gang bang. We performed then as we were expected. Being American suppose he liked a variety of types in his young lovers. Back then I was kinda gothy in the broad, gay scene sense. I basically dressed very un-scene-queen boy-bandishly. I actually looked a lot like the lead singer of a popular indie-rock band called Ash at that time. Anyway, that was my apparent flavour, but as I say, he liked a smorgasbord of youth. Being type cast as said edgy ‘goth’ I indulged in a bit of BDSM with Mike, to both please him and entertain my mates and his other guests in a kind of floorshow at the party. Stripped down to my boxers (Mike was wearing his shirt and nothing else) I teased the heaving middle aged millionaire pile of meat around, crawling on the carpet, administering occasional cracks of a leather flail across his face and voluminous arse whenever he got too close. He whinged and moaned, but basically he was loving it. If we had camera phones back then however, I doubt if he would have been too happy with me snapping a video of him in this state.

Which is where I was now with Eric. Eric isn’t a goth, or emo, or grungy whatever. He’s just my type; an athletic blonde 20year old. His ass is divine. Tight, muscular, pale and without blemish. Faint treasure trail down his 6-packed torso to his healthy young whopper of a dick. Eric and the other nights entertainment who my friend David has invited isn’t an escort. He’s just one of that clique of young-fellas who surround David now that he’s got a high profile position in acting and theatre circles. They occupy much the same position as me and my mates (some of whom are also at this party) did back in ‘001. And he’s playing with me like I did with Mike. There’s no way he actually fancies me. Like I say, I’m a middle aged man now, all boyish good looks gone the way of all things. But he’s happy to play around and humour me (and himself of course). But I ain’t happy about having this plastered online for his young mates to laugh at!

“No Eric, I’m not cool with this!” I exclaim as I begin to stumble back to my feet, knocking the embarrassing bunny ears off my shaven head.

“Down piggy piggy” snickers Eric, planting a foot down on my shoulders and sending me thumping to the floor again.

“Eric!!” I cough “no!”

 Eric puts down the phone (thankfully!) and scooping up the bunny ears, gently fixes them back on my head with mock sympathy.

“Angry little daddy-piggy is going all red and bothered” he leans forward and delicately gives me a sensual, sloppy kiss. I’m still panting. My tool is rock hard again. “piggy want more candy?” Eric wafts his beautifully musky, sticky knob in my face. I lean forward and bury my face in his delicious young ballsack.

Meanwhile, Eric downs the glass of wine I have been thirsting for.

Then he slaps me across the face. I moan

“alright daddy-pig, I won’t make you a web porn star (I wonder if Eric is aware I was actually once a porn actor). But I gotta make you work a bit harder for this”

He turns, squats and presents me with beautiful, stinky boyhole. My enthusiasm has returned.

“How about a good old fashioned theatre show?”

My enthusiasm is once again checked. I don’t like the sound of this. What is the lad up to?

To cut it short, what Eric had in mind, and what I eventually conceded in doing, was that he lead me on a make-shift leash (his belt), through the house and the rest of the party (many if not most of whom were now down to getting their rocks off with Eric’s pals) bunny ears and all, and displaying my lumpy middle aged arse and cock for shaming and amusement.  

He had me sit on my hunkers and beg like a puppy-dog, teasing me with that ass of his I longed to get my tongue into. “fat stinky daddy-pig want a taste?” Ah! Maybe now. Eric squats, hands on his knees and presents me with that sizzlingly boyhole of his. I lean in, tongue at the ready....he farts in my face and giggles. Everyone is laughing. I groan and wince. He swings around and delivers a stinging smack across my cheeks. “daddy-piggy is forgetting his place. If he wants to get his puffy, sweaty face in the treasure trove, he has to behave himself “ I wail at the strike, but I obey and dutifully get into position again.

Ok. That was acceptable. When he’d finished and I had been sufficiently humiliated, he sat backways across a chair, those succulent arse-cheeks of his parted, and allowed this horny old goat a feast of his savoury young jock-bussy as I finally, and joyously jerked my load onto the kitchen floor.

Wow. The circle-jerk of life.