Early the next morning Craig woke me. He offered to let me stay and sleep but I foolishly thought it was wise to get out of a nice warm bed, get dressed and walk home in the freezing cold. Jude had left for work by the time I returned home. Taking a long hot shower and getting dressed in a wool sweater I wondered what to do with my day. Going to the gym was out. I didn't feel like dealing with a bunch of people who didn't know what they were doing. The condo was clean, laundry was done and there wasn't any shopping that needed to be done. Walking around and looking for something to do I spot the keys. Getting dressed for another trip outside I slipped them into my pocket. Holding them in my hand didn't have the same excitement as the first time.
Taking a deep breath I slowly slid the key into the lock. The sound wasn't music to my ears. Turning the knob the door released and the fresh scent of the room deodorizer greeted me. In the past the aroma of Terry's place made me smile. It was a clean, light and airy scent that I had come to associate with him. Tentatively walking into the apartment I took another deep breath and closed the door.
Instead of the spotlessly clean home of my boyfriend I found an apartment in disarray. The furniture had been pushed out of the way. The floors and rugs were soiled from the boots of the EMT and police. There was a general mess from the activity that had taken place the last time I was here and it was negative. After taking off my coat, hat and boots I began to move the furniture back to where Terry had placed it. After I cleaned the floors and rugs and had things back in order it looked nearly as perfect as it would have been had he done it himself. There was a sense of accomplishment in cleaning up.
I wanted a drink. No alcohol, just water; I was seeing Master in a couple of hours and being drunk was unacceptable. Looking in the refrigerator I found it empty. Terry had cleaned it out. The cupboards were also barren of any food items. There was one thing Terry had not tossed, the alcohol. Normally he had a couple bottles of wine, some rum and some vodka. He had stocked the cupboards. Easily three dozen bottles of different alcohol were on the shelf.
This treasure pissed me off. How long had he planned this out? How much time did he spend cleaning out and buying booze? How many times did he look at me, have sex with me, knowing he was going to kill himself? Fucker! Slamming the cupboards shut I left the kitchen. The silence was too much so I turned on his stereo. Depeche Mode, one of his favorites. We had made love to this CD so many times and now I hear it as I wander his place alone. Fucker.
Part of me wanted to cry but I couldn't. Part of me wanted to walk out the door and never come back, let it sit empty until the lease was up and the landlord could deal with it. Part of me wanted to trash the place. Music playing I sat and looked around. It wasn't very big but had everything you needed. It was clean, bright and welcoming. I wondered how many people he had invited back to it? Had he taken guys home to fuck? Or was this his escape from his life, a place he was safe from sex for money?
My mind sifted through the things he had written in the two letters. Being neglected as a kid, taken in and turned into a prostitute, forced into a life of selling his body to support himself. What a terrible life. How could an adult do that to a kid? At sixteen the sex drive is strong but to make a teenager suck dick and get fucked for money is wrong. What does a guy do, what could Terry have done? Quit? Where would he go or who would help him? Society treats prostitutes like criminals, would someone have helped him?
Considering he was alone, except for the guys who turned him into an escort, he didn't have anyone. Yet he was not on drugs, he drank but wasn't a drunk, he had a nice place to live. He was clean. He took care of himself. Looking at him there was no sign of a young guy who was supporting himself by having sex for money. It was difficult to stay mad at him. As much as it hurt to have him gone and to have been the one to find him, I couldn't be mad at him. Maybe if I had met him a year earlier things would have been different? Maybe if I had been less selfish and more caring he wouldn't have felt the need to do what he did? Could I have done more? Been more? Cared more?
Sitting was driving me nuts. Trashing the place, leaving and never returning, these were not options. Terry arranged for me to have the place until the lease was up and I felt I owed it to him to at least visit and take care of things. Standing up I began to snoop. Is it considered snooping if it was left for you?
The time we had spent here was almost always naked and involving sex. We had eaten but it was a prelude or conclusion to sex. We hadn't watched a movie, listened to music or just sat and talked. There wasn't much in the way of furniture. He didn't have any nick knacks or bric-a-brac. The living room looked great but had as much in the way of personal items as a hotel room. The remotes sat on the ottoman or side table. There were no magazines or books or plants. Moving into the bathroom I found he had removed all his personal items. The razor, shampoo, deodorant and other items were gone. He had even tossed his toothbrush. The towels were fresh. The fucker had done laundry before he...
The bedroom was the only other room. Inside he had a queen size bed, made up with fresh sheets. There was a tall dresser, a short dresser and the nightstand. Opening the closet I found his clothing neatly arranged. Most of the clothing he had bought on the shopping spree we had gone on before Christmas. Did he know at that point what was going to happen? Was that why he bought the items that fit both of us? Granted we were the same size, he was slightly larger due to muscle but he only bought the items that were snug on him. At the time I thought it was so he could show off his body. He was ripped and looked to show off so it made sense to me.
Closing the door I went to the short dresser, six drawers, three side by side. Opening the first drawer I found socks and boxers. Not once had I seen him wear boxers, they weren't his style. He preferred boxer briefs or briefs. The next drawer appeared to have nothing but boxer briefs. He had a lot of underwear. The next drawer was filled with briefs. Neatly folded and lined up. Damn he had a lot of underwear!
The fourth drawer had more underwear. Jockstraps, thongs and underwear that was something a stripper, or porn star, would wear. The last two drawers were tee shirts. Wondering where his sweaters and jeans were I went to the tall dresser. Opening the middle drawer I didn't find clothing. I found leather. Closing it I opened the drawer underneath and found more leather. Without touching any of it I closed the drawer and open the next one. Dildos. The entire drawer had nothing but dildos in it. The next drawer was filled with more sex toys. Quickly checking all the drawers I found only items relating to sex.
Returning to the closet I looked again and further down the rod from the clothing I found some interesting clothing. Baseball uniform, football uniform, scrubs, western style shirts and a pair of chaps, one get up after another, neatly hung and waiting. Rummaging in the bottom of the closet I found more items, all related to what I assumed was his life as an escort. It made sense now. He made his living through sex. Outside of me his life was working out or in the sex trade. Now I was looking at the clothing and toys that he used for sex.
Had he not been dead I would have loved to stumble across these items. Think of all the fun role-playing and kinky sex we could have had!
That wasn't the case. Why had he left all of these things? He tossed the food and personal items but left the sex toys and clothing, it didn't make sense. My stomach grumbled. If I wanted to eat something before going to Master's I better do it now. Leaving the apartment I went to grab a light lunch. Eating alone isn't much fun. Normally I would flirt with some guy or just check out the possibilities but today I didn't feel like it. Instead I thought about nothing as I had a bowl of soup. One thing I did want was to show up and have Master train me.
The excitement built as I made my way to the loft. Part of me had come to love my visits. Having the door ajar and the table set up with items he wanted me to put on made my dick hard. The times I wasn't blindfolded I was so aroused by his body I would leak pre cum. Not once had I been allowed to touch him. His beautiful body, muscular and solid was close to me yet I wasn't allowed to touch it. Granted I had felt his cock, on my ass, inside my ass, hitting my face and in my mouth, but that was all the contact I had been lucky enough to have with him.
There was no blindfold this time. The items on the table were few. He had left a collar and a cock ring, nothing more. Naked, items on and standing in position on the mat I waited, my eyes on the floor. Hearing him enter I was tempted to look, just a peek, but didn't. He stopped two feet in front of me and raised his hand to attach a leash to my collar.
"Pick a number one thru ten." He said.
Shit! If I pick one will he be disappointed? If I pick ten will I regret it? What was the number referring to? Knowing he wasn't patient for an answer I said ten, hoping I would regret it.
He turned, walking away the leash pulled, I followed. He led me toward the wall where a solid wooden table sat. On it there were ten dildos. They were arranged from smallest to largest. Did ten mean he was going to use the tenth one? Or did it mean he would use all ten?
"You picked ten. Brave. Or did you say ten to please me? I think your motivation was to please me. This is wise of you, but not the answer I wanted."
He pulled the leash and walked toward the larger leather chair. Sitting down with his legs together he patted his knees. Not sure exactly what he wanted I risked it and positioned my body so he could spank me. It was the correct decision. He slapped my ass with force. I couldn't help but yelp. His strength, the surprise and the sting were too much. Nine slaps followed, each one as hard as the first. By the tenth I was silent, taking the punishment as if it were earned.
After the final slap he paused a moment before pushing me off of him. I fell to the floor. Thankfully he had a thick rug to land on. Not moving I remained in the position I had fallen. He stood, stepped over me and walked out of sight. Listening carefully for any clues what was to come I heard nothing. Time passed, I lay still, waiting. When he finally did return he stepped over me and took a seat on the chair.
"On your knees. Take my cock in your mouth, no hands, don't let it completely leave your mouth. Suck."
Experience had taught me not to hesitate. His cock was above average, sucking it was a joy, even if he wasn't Master I would gladly suck that cock. Master leaned back as I took the head of his cock into my mouth. Keeping my hands flat on the floor I sucked until he was fully erect. Making sure to keep at least the head in my mouth I worked on his cock. There was something different this time, not once did he touch me. His hands remained on the armrests of the chair the entire time I worked his cock.
Sucking a cock that is large and hard is a cocksuckers dream. The head was large with a firm helmet. The shaft was thick and smooth with a thick frenulum that was remarkably defined. I loved using my tongue this part of a cock as I sucked. Pressing on it, massaging it with my tongue and lower lip, it was one of my favorite parts of a cock. The skin, texture and taste of a cock, so varied yet always so exciting to have in my mouth.
"Enough." His words took me away from my dream state. I sat up and released his hard cock. What was next?
Master stood and walked away. I remained on my knees waiting for his return. Time began to pass slowly. My knees were getting sore from sitting in the same position. Wanting to shift and ease the pressure I ignored the pain and continued to wait. The silence was too much, my cock was no longer hard and I wanted him to fuck me yet nothing was happening. Considerable time had passed when I heard footsteps. Keeping my eyes to the floor I waited anxiously for Master's return and his cock inside of me.
"You can go now." Timothy's voice came from the other side of the loft.
Was that it? Ten smacks? Some time sucking his cock? Nothing else? Slowly standing up, blood rushed to the lower half of my legs. Walking to my clothing I removed the cockring and collar, neatly placed them on the table, got dressed and left. This had been the most disappointing visit I ever had at Master's.
Frustrated and horny I felt the building. What a shitty day. Stopping at a coffeehouse I sat with my java and thought. Terry leaves his apartment cleaned out of his personal things and food, yet plenty of alcohol and all his sex toys and clothing. What was the meaning of it?
Master spanks me and then has me suck his cock for about ten minutes and then leaves me kneeling on the floor for an hour before I am told to leave. What was up with that? I have no job and no boyfriend. Things didn't make sense. Why would Master tease me? A blowjob but no orgasm? I wanted his cum. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to use my body. I wanted...
Then it hit. He didn't do what I wanted. I wanted the maximum number offered, ten. He chose none. I wanted the dildos used on me. He didn't use any of them. I wanted the spanking to continue. He stopped when I started to enjoy it. I wanted to touch his body. He forbade me the use of my hands. I wanted to worship his cock, suck and stroke it. He gave me ten minutes with it continually in my mouth. I wanted to be fucked. He had me sit and wait. My visit to see him wasn't about him. It wasn't about serving him. It was about what I wanted. Now it made sense. He was teaching me that my visits were not about me, but about him. They weren't about the sex. They were about the act of serving and surrender.
Feeling better about the session, which I no longer viewed as a failure I wondered what was behind Terry's actions. His decisions to clean out some things yet leave others was a mystery. Thinking back to conversations we had I recalled how I told him I loved sex. I loved having a man inside me. I loved the thrill of a cock in my hand for the first time. I loved having men pursue me, want me. I loved being looked at, lusted after and watched. I loved the games and toys and fun of sex. I loved the restraints and leather. I was learning to love the flogging and spankings. I loved sex with men.
Terry didn't love it. He said he loved having sex with me but only with me. For him sex was a job, a chore, something he had to do. It wasn't fun for him. It wasn't exciting for him. He didn't get to chose who he had sex with, he was told who he was going to let fuck him. He knew one of the rules at Jude's was no guys. I couldn't bring a guy home to have sex. He left his apartment, lease paid up, for me. He left the sex toys and items. He left the alcohol, I was only nineteen. He left me a place to enjoy sex. A place I could bring a guy and not break Jude's rule.
Master was teaching me that sex wasn't always about what I wanted or me. On the other hand, Terry was teaching me that sex was about what I wanted. One side was about pleasing and giving to the other guy. The other side was enjoying sex for myself in ways that I enjoyed. Sex was about giving, not being selfish. Thinking of others yet enjoying it. Sex was finding ways to explore and discover the things that brought excitement and released those amazing endorphins. Sex was about the two people involved, not just me. It wasn't about getting off.
Was I crazy? Was I just a stupid young guy who didn't have a clue? Had I been selfish and greedy the entire time I had been in Boston? What was I doing here? So far I had done little outside of trying to get laid. Sure I had worked as an escort for a while, made a few friends but I hadn't really done anything outside of sex. What was I going to do? It was a new year and I had no plans or goals. Time to think of something.
One thing I knew was I had a safe place to live, two of them. I also had support from my mother and friends, good friends. I was healthy and had money but I couldn't support myself for long without getting a job. What was wrong with sex? I enjoyed it. I loved it. Did I need to give it up or cut down? Drinking the last cold swallow of my coffee I put on my coat and left.
The afternoon was sunny and there was no wind, which made it rather beautiful outside. The walk to the studio went quickly. Inside I was greeted by Evan's smile and a hug. "What brings you here today?"
"Hi Evan. Is Roger in?"
"Roger isn't in today. But Jack is here, do you want to see him?"
"Jack? Who was he?" Had I really forgotten the names of the guys who ran the studio?
"He's the main man Sam. I don't think you met him; he was out of town when you filmed. Have a seat I will see if he is busy." Evan left me in the front room.
Looking at the pictures of the men on the walls I recognized two of them from the video. Damn they looked great. There wasn't any sign of the video I had been in. There weren't any posters or postcards advertising the studio. I felt a little let down. Evan opened the door and smiled, "Follow me Sam."
He led me down the hallway to an open door. "Jack, this is Sam."
"Sam! Come in. Have a seat. It's nice to finally meet you. Feel a little bad not being here for the premier but work required me elsewhere. What can I do for you?" Jack was in his late fifties, if looks meant anything. He wasn't particularly handsome or well built. I guess the guys behind the cameras don't need to look like the guys in front of them. His smile was sincere, his handshake strong and I felt comfortable immediately.
"Hi. Nice to meet you too. I was expecting Roger."
"Roger is meeting with the distributor today. Can I help you with something?"
"I think so. Can you make Jesse Martin a porn star?"
Thus ends Sam's move to Boston. Thank you to the dedicated readers and those who sent comments. I appreciate your time and words. I hope you enjoyed my story about a young man beginning his journey into adulthood and exploring his sexuality.