My summer of sex with Cowboy

Chapter 43

Slowly walking from Eli's apartment building to the boardwalk, I go up a ramp and over to the beachside railing, looking out at the endless Atlantic Ocean as I do a lot. Its immensity drives home how insignificant I am. The effectiveness of the sunburn spray Sandy sprayed on my paddled buttocks is wearing off, but the pain is so dulled by now and hardly worth noticing. I know from experience that after four or five daily paddling, however, the pain accumulates and will be a problem, but I don't care.

Walking away from the railing, I head for the Locker Room and my mentor/trainer, Jon Scheyer. I gave a thought to breakfast at the cafe, but no! Eli told me to report directly to Jon. I'm going to be a good recruit and do what I'm told, but to get to the locker room, I need to walk by the cafe, and I can't help but look in at my boyfriend, Bruce.

Oh, and Cowboy and Lee are coming out of the cafe. Sweet! We hug Cowboy, saying, "Bruce is waiting tables, but we had a waitress... bummer." I  ask, "Are you guys going to the beach?" Cowboy says, "Not this morning. We're renting a motorboat in Ocean City, and I'm teaching Lee how to water ski. Do you wanna join us?" 

It's tempting. I could check in with Jon to see if it would be all right. He works until five, but I promised myself not to intrude on Cowboy's and Lee's lives. It'll be more fun for them to do it alone without me butting in. And, I'll bet my left nut I'm ten times better at water skiing than Cowboy, and he should be the expert in Lee's eyes, not me. 

I shrug, "Not this time, but I'd like Bruce and me to join you guys. Maybe next time."

Lee asks me, "Can Bruce water ski?" I grin, shrugging, "I don't know, but almost certainly he can't." Funny, but I just realized how little I know about Cowboy. I wonder if Lee is Cowboy's first boyfriend, and then I immediately realize he's probably had a half dozen boyfriends before Lee. Still, this seems like a special, albeit unlikely, connection for both of them. 

"Well, have fun, guys. I'm going to have breakfast and read an 'effing book on the beach." 

Not really. I will check in with Jon and do whatever he says. Christ, it's so good to have a real leader again. No offense to Bruce, but he can't cut it as a leader like Jon, Eli, and even that Sandy guy can.

The boys walk off to their latest adventure, and I look in the door. Bruce is hustling around, and I won't bother him, but he sees me and waves for me to come inside.

Inside, he says, "I was about to text you that I'll be working tonight with Anne. She wants help with the end of the summer audit. I'll have dinner here, and Anne will give me a ride home around eight-thirty. I just found out about this today."

I shrug, "No problem, except I'll miss you. So, no beach time either, right?" 

"That's right, sorry." I smile, "I love you, bro." He shakes his head but mutters, "Thanks, I need to get back to work."

I feel a quivering sensation in my balls because I will see Jon. I'm feeling very submissive after the paddling, and that paddled any horniness I had right out of me, too. It's weird not to be ragingly horny. I'm very attracted to Jon because when I hired him, he intimidated the hell out of me, which gave me a wicked submissive sense, and, therefore, I experienced hotter sex, and I'm hooked on that. But, fuck, I'm nervous because I never know what Jon will do. 

Then I go into my pocket and pull out my money to ensure I have enough to pay him. It's an odd situation for me, being Jon's client and now his trainee. Oh shit, I've got over a thousand dollars on me. Of course, I have the money. What was I thinking? 

Taking a deep breath, I decide to have a cigarette at the ocean-side railing and calm myself down. I pull at my shorts in the back, my buttocks burning a little as I look out at the ocean again. I watch Markie at the rental booth; he's a conscientious little motherfucker making me smile. Hey, Markie's boyfriend, Jameson, works at one of these boardwalk shops, so I drift down the boardwalk looking for him but don't see him. Well, at least it got my mind settled down.

My dick felt like its old self when I saw see Bruce at the cafe doing his job. And now, on my way to see Jon, my dick is firming up like it should.  Flicking away my cigarette butt, I quickly walk through the front door of the Locker Room building and stand just inside the door, waiting for instructions from Jon. It's early, ten minutes to ten, and there are a dozen people in line, checking in for the day at the lockers. Jon doesn't even look up for fifteen minutes, but I'm used to waiting.

As usual, Jon gives me a scowl, then nods at Richard's office, and my dick, which had gotten back to its old self, now shrivels up almost as much as it did after the paddling. Dammit, I need to see Richard. Oh, well, if I'm going to be a pussy boy, I need to know my place, and that means a very humble place where Richard is concerned. With a big boy, serious expression, I nod at my mentor, Job, that I understand and walk down the hall to Richard's office. 

With my penis back to imitating a ten-year-old boy's penis, I knock on the door, and, like Eli's office, there's an outer office manned by a higher-up pussy boy. The one who answered my knock was not much taller than Richard, about five feet six. His name tag on a lanyard reads, "Butch." Very average-looking with the pussy boy haircut and summer uniform of khaki shorts and a white polo shirt.

Butch asked, "Where you been, McMann? You left Eli's a half hour ago. You were told to report here directly." 

The old Zack would have smart-assed a few insulting comments to this midget, but I'm the new pussy boy Zack, and I stand at attention, mumbling, "I'm sorry, sir," and then, like the old Zack, I lie, adding, "After my paddling, I had a nervous stomach and spent time on a toilet in the twenty-third Street public bathroom."

Making a face like he's smelled something offensive, he says, "Wait here," and closes the door in my face. Of fuck, that was a pathetic lie. I could have come up with something better, except everything makes me nervous because now I WANT to qualify as a pussy boy and not screw up.

I was still standing at attention when Butch opened the door and said, "Get in here. You can get undressed in the bathroom." 

The old Zach would seriously question why the fuck I need to get undressed, but not the new one. I mumble, "Yes, Butch," and go right into the big bathroom that's actually a small private locker room. I quickly get undressed, expecting that Richard is doing a spot body inspection to see if I'm serious or fucking with them again.

It's a good thing I was fast because Butch was in here two minutes later to grip the back of my neck. I was ready for it and hunching down to accommodate the difference in our heights. As with all the pussy boys I've met, Butch has a strong grip. He mutters, "Get going," and pushes me to Richard's door. He knocks gently, and Richard's familiar voice says, "Bring him in, Butch."

My penis is again embarrassingly shrunken because I'm again in front of an authority figure who I need and very much want to impress. I stand stiffly at attention, my fingers straight down at my sides, my head slightly up so I'm not making eye contact with my superior. Richard mutters, "Inspect him closely, Butch."

That surprises me. Richard has always humiliated me with his hands-on body inspections. Butch is hands-on, too, at one point saying, "Bend over and spread 'em." He's looking for a trace of hair, which he isn't going to find, so he makes up a criticism, saying, "You need to shave closer, McMann," and then to Richard, "He passes."

Richard says, "Look at me, Zach." I look him in the eyes, feeling my dick shrinking further as I mutter, "Yes, Richard," again stiffly at attention. Standing, then walking from behind the desk, Richard stands in front of me and deliberately smacks my face hard with his open hand, then again, "SMACK! SMACK!" It stung, and my eyes teared up, but I stayed at attention. He nods, then says, "That's for the times you've manhandled me."

Walking back to sit at his desk, he asks, "So, is this a real, sincere desire you have to be a male prostitute?" "Yes, Richard. I apologize for my past bad behavior. I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

"Well, I think you'll be great at it. I was excited about recruiting you, but between you and Dunlop, you two managed to fuck up everything. I got my stepfather to let you try again because we realized there were some outdated and sick parts to the manual and the punishment for our boys. There were some horrible aspects to it, and we've revamped many things. So, thank you, and good luck. We're starting fresh, but as I told you once before, I hope I never need to hear from you again because you've become part of our group as a productive and cooperative pussy boy, just like everyone else." He nods at Butch, who grips the back of my neck and pushes me outside both doors. Letting go of me, he says nothing and goes inside.

I look over to Jon, who is finishing with a customer and is wiggling his finger to indicate that I should come to him, which I do. Not quite standing at attention, I say, "Yes, Jon?"

He says, "I'm told you've been accepted as a recruit but that this is your last chance. Eli is firm, therefore, that I keep tight control over you, and I will. I'm taking a big chance on you  because I'll be set back six months if you bomb out as you've already done twice."

I didn't bomb out once, never mind twice. That's simply not true, but it's not my place to correct him. As he likes to do, he grabs my cock and balls, squeezing as I grunt, "Ow! Ow..." He mutters," Get behind the counter in case someone comes in. When I step behind the counter, he lets go of my junk but puts his hand up the short leg of my cargo shorts, getting my dick in his fist, stroking my cock.

Grinning at my discomfort, he says, "You'll need to go online to the Pussy Boy Store and buy pussy boy light tan khaki shorts for summer and long ones for winter, plus white Polo short sleeve shirts and long sleeves ones for winter, plus a winter coat and cap. Then have them Federal Expressed to you tonight because I want you wearing the uniform starting tomorrow."

He's been stroking my boner as he is telling me that, so I'm slightly on my toes as my dick is a ridiculously hard boner now, "Yes, Jon." Then he makes it obvious he's jerking me off, mumbling, "Because I will be pretraining you along with another guy, I won't be working the counter here starting tomorrow, so thank you for impressing Eli and Richard enough that they're giving you one last chance. It gets me off counter duty."

My face is scrunched up as I moan, "Oh, oh, ahhh!" and shoot off in my pants. Jon pulls his hand out the leg of my shorts and deliberately puts two fingers with cum on them in my mouth. I lick them clean, and Jon mumbles, "Be back here at five o'clock. I get off work then."

"Yes, Jon," and he says, "Now... scat! Get outta here!"  

"Yes, Jon," and I walk out as cum soaks through my cargo shorts at the crotch. Not caring about that, I go straight to the parking lot, get my car and drive home. Before changing my underpants and shorts, I go online and order the clothes for my pussy boy uniforms, geekily happy I'll get to wear the uniform during training. Paying a stupidly expensive extra amount, the package will be here by nine o'clock tonight. 

All along, my intention has been to tell Bruce exactly what I'm doing, except not to mention that I'm going all the way and whore on the streets for Jon. I'll sell him on the idea I want to experience something totally new and do that in the right frame of mind this time. Tell him about the paddling and everything else, just not the end part. It will probably be a relief for him and take the pressure off him of satisfying me sexually, not that he's doing that anyway. I'm not telling the boys very much, just that I'm fucking around for something to do now that Bruce is working. If the boys find out as much as I've told Bruce, so be it. They'll be going to college in a month, though, so...

Taking a coffee piss, then changing clothes, washing my face and hands, and brushing my teeth, I'm feeling good about myself as I'm driving back to the boardwalk for lunch at the cafe. I get goosebumps thinking about how hot it was being obsequious to, well, to everyone, but especially Eli and Richard. That felt so good, and even though they don't like me very much, they're beginning to respect me for changing my attitude so dramatically. Oh, boy, this has me feeling alive again. It's like being in the Navy Seals all over again.

After parking, I bring the book I bought at Target; bought seemingly in another lifetime. I walk on the boardwalk to the cafe, and the lady at the register, Anne, says, "There are a few empty tables in the back." 

I nod at her, grinning, and watch Bruce serve lunch to four adults. I walk to the back, grinning again at how serious Bruce is. He also looks cute with the little pompadour that he's been combing in his hair ever since I did it for him that time. He also has sexy hairless legs. He's slim and youthful-looking, and, to me, he's a boyfriend I'm proud of even though he doesn't like sex very much.  

A waitress puts a menu on my table and asks, "Can I get you something to drink?" What the...? I wanted Bruce to wait on me, but it might bring undue attention to him if I say that. I smile, "Yes, um, coffee, please." She's not especially attractive, but Bruce said she was a big help to him yesterday, so I'll leave her a big tip. I order an egg salad sandwich, and she brings my coffee.

As with the chicken salad sandwich I had for lunch yesterday, the egg salad sandwich is okay but nothing special. I'm almost through eating before I make eye contact with Bruce, who's very busy. He smiles and makes a cute face at me but continues doing his job. Ya know, that smile was unmistakably one that said he was really happy to see me. It was an intimate moment; he couldn't fake it. Gee, that was sweet, and I feel warm and fuzzy all over.

Huh. Yes, that was sweet, but with Jon, I get hot, sexy, submissive flashes that give me sexy chills. God! I'm getting hard thinking about it. After I finish eating my unspectacular lunch, I leave a ten-dollar bill on the table and walk up with the check to pay at the cash register. Bruce walks by, saying, "Hi, Zach! I hope you enjoyed your lunch." 

I nod, "Yeah, um, you look good." He nods and grins but goes on by with two sodas. The register clerk, Anne, doesn't know me from Adam. She gives a fake smile, asking, "Was everything alright?" As she rings up my check, I say, "Yes, thanks, it was fine."

Bruce stops me at the door, "Oh, Zach, the next couple of nights I'll be working until late helping Anne with year end inventory audit or something. I'll eat here." "Okay, Bruce. Overtime pay?" He grins, nodding, looking happy. Goddamn, good for him.

Oh man, I feel good. Bruce appeared in a friendly, positive frame of mind and was happy to see me. Still smiling, I go down to the rental booth and wait for Markie to return from doing the umbrella thing for a man and woman. Then, I smile at him, "Hi, Markie. How ya doing today, hotshot?" He grumpily says, "How can you always be so cheerful? I just got stiffed on a tip by those two old farts." 

Trying not to grin, I mumble, "Well, I won't stiff you. Let me have a chair and an umbrella." As he gets a chair from the rack, he asks, "You're alone?" 

Holding up the paperback book, I go, "Yes, just me and my book." As I walk beside him, he carries the umbrella on his skinny shoulder. I ask, "How much do you get paid hourly?" Stopping near where we always stop, he mutters, "None of your business." 

Hahaha. I'm in such a good mood that I snort out a laugh, saying, "Don't be grumpy, be happy."  He grins at me, mumbling, "Whaddaya talking about? I'm not grumpy." 

"Oh," and hand him a ten-spot, then rub his head. He goes, "You've got a thing for me, doncha?" I say, "Yes, I do. How can you tell?" He mumbles, "Duh, it's pretty fucking obvious," and then stalks off, trying not to grin.

He is a goofy-looking kid, but I've adopted him. The pocketbook is 'Alexander The Great and His Time' by Agnes Saville. Huh, it was written in 1993. No, earlier because there's a preface for the second edition. I read it, and she explained that she's corrected facts from the first edition since the first edition. There may be facts in this edition that she'll correct later. HAHA! So, I'll be reading things that may or may not be accurate. 

Yeah, but I don't read very much before I look up and gaze at the ocean, thinking about Jon's four-to-five chubby inches of hard cock inside me. He knows how to fuck with that sex organ too. I'll pay for a make-out first and then suck and lick the hell out of his cock and balls before the final thrill of him dominantly fucking me. My cock is so hard right now I need to stand up and try getting it over, pointing sideways. Oh, Gawd, that feels good. I walk around a bit, leaning over a little until I feel my pecker go down.

The problem is, I remember him saying something about another trainee. I'm not spending money on some trainees. It needs to be Jon and me when I'm his client. As his trainee, whatever he says goes.

Yeah, with Bruce not interested, I need the relief of paying for sex. It's needed! It's for a good cause above and beyond me. I mean, if I don't blow my load in less than one minute, neither will Bruce. We can experience the sexy thrill of having a longer sex act together. Sure, that's a rationalization for me needing a pussy boy, needing afternoon sex, but it's also true it could improve Bruce's and my fuck tonight. I need to be sexually satisfied to concentrate on my retraining, and that's not bullshit. I'm serious about the training!

I tried to read the book, but so far, it's all about Alexander's father, Philip, who was constantly warring with neighboring cities and whatnot. Warring is all these people do. It's tough reading because the names of the places and people in the story, except for Alexander and Philip, are unpronounceable. 

Giving up on the book after fifty pages, I go in for a swim and easily do a mile or longer. Drying off sitting in the sun, I check my cell phone and see it after two o'clock. Now I'm feeling all geeked up again for my dominant top, Jon Scheyer. Bruce doesn't make out much, and I wanna do that with Jon. He's an excellent make-out, not that I've much experience doing it myself. He does most of it, earning his money. And I'm so stupidly attracted to him that I get a sexual thrill out of his lips. The way he moves his lips and tongue, it's sexual magic.

Yeah, my dick is hard again, but not as dangerously hard as it was earlier. A paid date with Jon will be therapeutic, almost a necessity for my mental health. Well, that may be overstating it a bit, but not by much. I'm so anxious to start my retraining, too. Things are going on in my life now. Exciting things, and I need that. I'm impatient to meet with Jon, looking at the time again. Then I get up and walk around in a big circle, glancing at the people on the beach without seeing a single guy who interests me.

Then, I checked my phone and saw it was ten minutes to five. What the fuck? I can't be late! Quickly walking by Markie's booth, I drop off twenty dollars, hurriedly saying, "Markie, please get my stuff off the beach. I won't be back today, and time got away from me, or I'd have brought the stuff here myself." He waves, "Okay, Zach, thanks for the super tip. No problem." Going up the ramp, oh fuck, I can hardly breathe...

With my heart in my throat and my balls shrinking to marbles, I go up the boardwalk ramp and head for the locker rooms to meet Jon. I'm so excited and so desperate for sex with him. It makes no fucking sense that I'm feeling this nervously intimidated by Jon, but I am just the same. He dominates the shit out of me. 

Things are getting complicated. If Bruce wasn't working tonight, how would he get home? I need to be with my mentor. I like thinking about Jon giving me that pussy boy haircut, and I rub my fingers over my head. Huh? It's already lost the bristly feel it had when Jon cut it over a week ago, but damn, it was so dominant of him to do that. I felt like a submissive ten-year-old boy after Mommy forced me to get a buzz cut. 

The lure of feeling that intense submissiveness again, the inexplicable sexiness of it, has me walking quickly, then jogging to the locker room. Intellectually, I know my reaction to this encounter with Jon is insane as I'm the paying client, and, therefore, I should feel at least partially in charge of the situation. But, no, Jon's a well-trained pussy boy, and he knows how to dominate the likes of me.

At the locker room's front entrance, my heart is beating like a drum, my hand reaching for the doorknob is sweaty, and I can't catch my breath. Opening the door, I see Jon talking with another boy behind the counter. Oh yeah, he said there would be someone else. 

Jon looks up and sternly says, "Goddammit, wait outside as you were told!" I croak out, "Yes, Jon," and turn around immediately to do that. Gasping for breath, I go over to the beach-side railing and feel shaky. I don't remember him telling me to meet him outside.

Fidgety and feeling like I need to pee, I stare hard at the front door, my hand pressing against my crotch, my face hot from the humiliation of being talked to like that. And the smirking expression on that other pussy boy's face made it worse! Jon must have told him about me. With my head clearing a little, I admit that the other pussy boy had all the physical attributes that appealed to me. He's almost as short as Jon and almost cute in an unusual way, with light brown short hair, although not pussy-boy short, and he's just as slim and just as youthful-looking as Lee, too. Hmm, I wonder if Jon finally has a recruit, and it's that kid?

Jon comes out the front door and motions for me to approach him. Hurrying across the boardwalk, sidestepping people along the way, I get to Jon, and he grips the back of my neck tightly, saying, "Never just burst in on me when I'm working on a young guy I'm recruiting. Didn't Bruce train you about the recruiting formula? God, I'm disappointed in you, Zach! If I tell Eli about this, you'll be getting paddled every morning for an additional two weeks. Do you understand?"

How the hell could I be expected to know he was recruiting that kid unless he told me ahead of time, which he didn't? He didn't tell me to wait for him on the boardwalk, either. But what do I say? "Yes, Jon. I'm so sorry. Please don't tell Eli, please."

"Shape up! I won't tell him this time, but you must try harder."

"Yes, Jon, I promise I will. Thank you for not telling Eli!"

"Okay, okay. Be on your best behavior from now on. Um, the recruit's name is Derick Summers. He's another of Richard's recruited prospects from when he was in Delaware. He turns out-of-state recruiting prospects over to mentors. In this case, turned over to me. That's another reason I don't need to work the counter after today. I'm done with that. C'mon, and I'll introduce you.

He doesn't walk me with a grip on my neck. Instead, he walks me with a hard grip on my left bicep. Inside, Jon calls, "Derick, come here, please." Derick says, "In a minute, Jon. I'm texting with a bud of mine back home."

Holy shit! I can see Jon trying not to blow his stack. I look away, afraid Jon is embarrassed and will take out Derick's insolence on me. I can hear Jon noisily breathing through his nose, clenching his fists. I say NOTHING.

Dereck comes over a minute later, cheerfully saying, "Listen, Jon, I'm not blown away by what you've said. Maybe you can try harder to sell me on this stuff. I do want to move out of the house; my parents are assholes, so that's the only reason I'm even considering the pussy boys' shit. I'm gonna take off now. Shoot me a text when you can, and maybe we can talk some more. I like the randomness of whoring, haha! Sounds hot shit, dude." Jon is speechless, not used to being talked to like that. Nodding at me, the guy asks, "Um, who's this? One of your pussy boys.

Oh, jeez. This guy is in for a big surprise if he starts training with Jon, but no problem now as Jon controls his anger and says, "Yes, this is one of my boys. Say hi to Ziggy," nodding at me he says, this is Derrick. I'm hoping to work with you two at the same time."

Ziggy?

Derrick and I bump fists, muttering, "Whassup," and then Derrick lightly punches Jon's shoulder, mumbling, "It's been real, Scheyer. As I said, shoot me a text, bro," and he saunters outside.  I don't dare look at Jon, who, under his breath, is muttering, "Motherfucker is going to learn..."

It's awkward being the one present when Jon gets dumped on without respect. My body shimmers with scary nervousness about what Jon might do as I remain silent, and Jon keeps muttering. He finally grabs the back of my neck and squeezes, saying, "Don't you ever talk to me like he did; do you got that?" "Yes, Jon," and then he lets go, murmuring, Oh, fuck. I'm sorry. You didn't do anything. Where's your car?"

We walk down the boardwalk, then while going down the ramp, I mutter, "I'm sorry that rude asshole doesn't know how to act, Jon, but why did you introduce me as, Ziggy?"

"Oh, yeah. That's your name within the pussy boy organization. Richard said the name Zach sounds too harsh. He assigned you the name 'Ziggy,' and we're all to call you that, and you refer to yourself that way too. End of story. I don't want to hear any discussion about it."

"Yes, Jon. My car is in the lot, right there." 

I wouldn't think of mentioning this, but I'll bet Richard doesn't want anyone recognizing the name 'Zach' that was all over the Atlantic City pussy boy's organization when that guy named Zach broke Bruce out of the pussy boys' club in New York City. I say in my head, 'Ziggy, Ziggy, Ziggy.' It's not a name that makes you think of a serious person, but I like it's okay.

At street level, Jon says, "Here's the deal for today. I've got another recruit. Like you, he didn't finish his pussy boy training for one reason or another. Now he wants back in, but first, he wants a taste of what he'll be training for, so I'm only gonna charge you $i00 for today because he's gonna be your dominant pussy boy, not me. You can give him a blowjob, and then you'll get a sub/dom fuck from him as well. It's a bargain for you, and it'll prove to him how much work he needs before he does it all in a professional manner. You too." 

Oh, fuck, I'm all geeked up to get relief from my horniness. I say, "Um, do you mean that guy you were with in the lockers?" 

"No! You were standing right there! You heard Derrick tell me to shoot him a text. This is another recruit, as I already told you."

Why is he mad at me?" Humbly, I mutter, sounding whiny, "Oh. Ah, I'd rather pay the full price with a big tip to you, Jon. I've been looking forward to this for a week. The last time you serviced me, you were so dominantly sexy hot. You know, you did the haircut and everything. You're the best; I wanna do the..." 

He slaps the back of my head, saying, "I don't care what you want, and I'm not impressed with your bogus compliments. This past week, I've been lucking into some side business, and now I've even got a recruit, maybe two, so I don't need you. I'm doing you a favor today because you're a previous client and perspective recruit."  
Completely backing down, hardly believing I was arguing with him a little, I meekly say, "No, please, Jon. I want to do what you tell me." He mumbles, "That's what I thought you meant. We may need to use your apartment later, too." 

Nodding, I'm afraid to try talking more because I'm shaky with horniness, especially being this close to John Scheyer. And, what the hell... maybe this recruit of his will be as sexy as that guy, Derick, appeared to be.

Standing beside my car, Jon takes his cell phone out, hits a button, waits a few seconds, and then says, "Yeah, Billy, we'll pick you up in five minutes." Turning to me, he says, "Get in the car. We're picking my recruit up." Well, even if this guy, Billie, isn't as sexy as Derick, I need relief from my horniness, and this is the quickest way to get it.

Jon gives me driving directions, and in five or six minutes, he says, "Pull over here and blow the horn." I pull over at a Dunkin' shop and hit the horn. A tall, husky guy who appears to be about my age walks out. Billie's a cute name, but this guy isn't cute. He's sexy, though, and tough-looking, with long hair. Um, he has mature looks, and some would say he's good-looking, although he's not my type at all, and he's scruffy from living on the street. 

Jon tells him, "Get in the back." Nodding at me, he tells Billie, "The driver is our client, Ziggy, for this afternoon." I nod at Billie, and he says to Jon, not me, "For real? Shit, look at this fucker's car! And, um, he looks like a male model." 

Jon says, "That's enough! Shut up, Billy, and listen up. After Ziggy sucks you off, you'll be getting the pussy boy haircut, the works... actually. Only then do you get to fuck him." 

The tough-looking guy doesn't sound tough. He has a high-pitched voice, mumbling, "I know, Jon. You da man." Jon mutters to me, "I'll use Benny's clippers, so we'll definitely be at the apartment for his haircut, but he can't fuck you there, or I'd need to split a hundred bucks with my roommate.       

For no particular reason, submissiveness flows over me deliciously as I grin to myself, then mumble, "Yes, Jon." He adds, "Turn on Marble Street and pull into the first garage you see."

Pulling into the broken-down garage, Jon says, "Put the top up and turn the car off." I do that, and he says, "Get completely undressed," then he looks back at Billie, saying, "You too, everything off." We get naked as Jon watches, and then he says, "Everybody out of the car." 

Confused, Billy and I scrambled to get out, naked as the day we were born. Billie looks at me, mumbling, "Nice hot hairless body, dude." His body is covered with hair, ugh, or is it fur? I'm not used to that. Jon partially closes one of the broken garage doors, saying, "What can we do for you, Zach?" 

Huh? I look confused, so Jon says, "Pretend this is your first time hiring a pussy boy." 

Well, I'm certainly not going to ask this scruffy character for the $25 make-out, so I stutter, "Um, ah, you know, um, I'd like a hard dominant fucking." He goes, "No! First, ask if you can blow your hired pussy boy."

I do that, and Jon says, "Okay, pretend you discuss how much it costs now, then drop to your knees and suck him off." I glance at Billie's dick. It's a little bigger than Jon's, meaning it's as much as five inches long with a prominent rim at the bottom of the head, and the neck and shaft are much thinner. I get the shivers because it'll feel like a ribbed condom in my ass. Eww, though, his cock is surrounded by thick dark wiry-looking pubic hair. I go, "Ah, but Jon, he's not, ah, pussy-boy-ready. Ya know?" 

Jon mutters, "No shit. That's why I'm only charging you $100 for today." Billie holds his dick out, but I hesitate until Jon smacks my bare ass, "SMACK!" saying, "Do what you're told." 

Oh, boy, that intensified my gooey submissiveness, and I need this practice. When I'm on the street for Jon, I'll deal with more unattractive and older clients than Billy. I quickly got on my knees and smelled a dirty body. Not BO per se, but an unclean smell. Taking Billie's dick from his dirty fingers with black dirt under his nails. Well, as I assumed earlier, he's been living on the street for a while.

I'm horny as a rabbit, though, so I lick his cock. He takes hold of my head, saying, "You can do better than that." 

What an asshole... I just started! Then I think, no. I need to get used to being obsequious to my clients, and in this case, he's the pretend client. He can do no wrong. I slide his smelly cock into my mouth on my tongue and do some licking, then close my eyes so I no longer see his thick pubic bush, then suck on the neck below the head. I'm feeling that rim getting hard, and then I get my lips on the thinner neck and bob up and down, the ribbed area getting even harder, and I'm again thinking how good that will feel in my ass. 

Yeah, not bad. Then, I do many laps over the smallish-sized head and get used to his rather raunchy aroma, and, finally, I'm able to let myself get into blowing him. It's a cock, and I like sucking cock, so soon there's spit drooling down my chin as his cock grows longer and fatter, getting harder and harder. Billie moves his feet, grunting, "Jesus, umm, umm... aah!" 

Keeping my eyes closed, I take his boned-up penis out and press it to his hairy belly, the kinky hairs feeling alien against my fingers as I'm doing long licks on his hairy scrotum, remembering back to my college days when no one had shaved pubes. By now, I'm in a submissive trance, not a real deep one, but it'll do. It's like a trance I'd get from sucking and licking any random guy's cock and balls, which is what I'll be doing for money in five or six weeks. This is good training for me, never mind for Billy. 

It goes on for quite a while, me enjoying it now, but my cock isn't hard. Finally, Billie's precum begins drooling down my fingers and into his pubic hair, feeling sticky against my forehead as I moan, "Mmm, mmm." Sensing he's ready to blow his load, I put just the hard cock head back in my mouth and suck on it. Ten seconds later, Billie goes, "Ahhh," and my mouth fills with creamy cum. I need to swallow this huge load of cum twice to get most of it down, but cum is also rolling down my chin and out both sides of my mouth. In a submissive trance, I try sucking out some more cum, as he pushes my head away, going, "Ahh, ahh, oh... um, fuck...."

Sitting back on my ankles on this dirt floor, cum and spit shiny on my chin, I lick around my mouth as Jon's explaining to Billie, "That was an okay generic blowjob, but there are training videos to teach you and Ziggy how to suck cock more imaginatively. I'll also need to teach you how to recognize ultra-submissives like this guy here, but it's equally important to recognize non-submissive guys whom you'll need to deal with quite differently. When I'm done with your training, you'll be an expert." Billie's still going from foot to foot, mumbling, "Uh-huh," as he squeezes his cock.

Jon looks at me, saying, "Get up and clean that shit off your face." It's sexy-hot seeing Jon deeply into his dominant Napolean complex routine. Haha, it's fun, so I mutter, "Yes, Jon." Getting up, I try to stay in my submissive role. Mostly, though, I'm thinking how I must have been even hornier than I thought to get into sucking that scruffy guy's cock as enthusiastically as I did. 

Jon tells Billie, "For Christ's sake, let go of your pecker!" Billie lets go of it, and Jon asks, "Billy, how quick of a turnaround are you capable of? This is important." 

Billie looks proud, saying, "I'll be fully recharged in half an hour." Jon nods, "Good." Then he looks at his cell phone, muttering, "No text from my roommate yet." He sees Billie and me still standing here, so he yells, "Get dressed! Jesus, do I need to tell you to breathe, too?" 

I smiled at that, and as I put on my underpants, Jon told me, "We'll go to my apartment now and get that barber set I used on you. If my roommate hasn't finally left, I'll deal with it somehow. Heh-heh, you know all about me dealing with problems, don'cha?" 

"Yes, Jon," and he goes, "Wait! Is there anybody at your apartment?" I shake my head and step into my sandals. "Good! So, if there is someone in my apartment, I'll get Benny's barber set and go to your apartment." 

Thank God Cowboy is staying at Lee's after his overtime work. I'm committed to Jon and the pussy boys, so I shrug, "Ah, yes, Jon, whatever you say." He mumbles, " Ah, and you still have that full container of MAN creme there, right? You'll spread it on your client through all his body fur." 

Jon tells us, "You're both probably thinking we could have gone directly to the client's, in this case, Ziggy's apartment in the first place, but I wanted both of you to experience a random location of the kind you'll be servicing clients at." Both Billie and I are nodding in agreement at Jon's every word. Damn, I want to have my date with Jon, not this homeless person.

In three minutes, we're at Jon's apartment. He runs inside and comes out in one minute with Benny's barber kit. Then it's a twenty-minute drive to my apartment; Jon's turned in his seat, mentoring Billie, telling him what is expected of him tomorrow. It sounds simple enough, but I know from experience the training gets fucked up. They did revise a lot of the training manual as an offshoot of my action at the funhouse. The New York bosses, not liking what they saw and heard, began asking questions and changed training and funhouse procedures. It'd be interesting to know what changes they made because of little old me kidnapping Bruce under their noses.

Inside the apartment, Jon tells Billie, "Get completely naked," then to me, "Um, you get naked too because, well, just because I said to." I like that he remembers to do his dominant shit on me too. I mean, I'm paying for it, not Billie.

When I'm naked again, Jon tells me, "Get a dustpan and brush. He'll need those things to clean up all the disgusting hair I'm gonna cut off his head and body." Billie says in his squeaky high voice, "Why can't he clean up? It's his apartment." 

Jon goes, "He's the client, ya dumb ass! What don't you understand about that?" Billie, obviously not too bright, goes, "Oh, yeah." 

Rolling his eyes again, Jon points to a kitchen chair. Billie sits on it, and Jon uses the barber clippers with various small guides to cut off the eight-inch hair from Billie's head. Jon does it just as deliberately and quickly as he cut my hair. The finished haircut looks like mine did a week or so ago. Then it's fifteen more minutes of the clippers buzzing before Billie's body is free of hair, and he does look much better now, although he's still not good-looking at all.

Jon tells Billie, "Use the dustpan and brush to sweep up all your smelly hair." Billie frowns, then mumbles something under his breath, but gets on his knees and does what he's told. As Billie did that, Jon told me, "Get me a Coke or something." I do that, and when Billie's done the cleanup, Jon tells him, "Now go stand in that corner while I give our client a haircut," and he points to a corner in the kitchen. 

Give me a haircut? Jesus, my dick firms up. 

Meanwhile, Billie looks like he can't believe his ears, asking, "Whaddaya mean stand in the corner?" 

Grabbing the back of his neck, Jon walks him to the corner, saying, "Your nose needs to be touching the corner. Stay like that; don't move an inch until I say you can move." Billie's a tough-looking husky guy, but around much smaller Jon, he does what he's told. It's good to know I'm not the only one who does what I'm told.

Shaking his head as if he can't believe the nitwits he needs to deal with, Jon tells me, "Sit down. I'll do your haircut the way Bruce likes it." 

I could point out that Bruce said, 'When I needed a haircut,' and then said he'd let Jon give him a haircut as soon as pigs learn to fly. I don't want to say that because I'd like to experience the same extreme submissive sense I felt when Jon did my last haircut. It's so fucking tempting, except I don't need a haircut So, with that in mind, I reluctantly say, "Please, not now, Jon. I love this pussy boy haircut you gave me, but can I wait a week or so for another one?" 

Jon says, "Okay, we'll do it on a two-week basis." "Thank you, Jon." He rubs his fingers back through my hair, muttering, "It already has lost that crisp look, but I'll stick to the schedule."  

My cock feels heavy because it's incredibly sexy how diminutive Jon can get big-bodied Billie and me eating out of his hand. Jesus, I can hardly believe I just said 'no' to him. Jon says to me, "Get the MAN creme. I'll let you cover his body with it." 

Ugh, I'd like to cover Jon's hot little body with it, but sliding my hands all over Billie's stinky body isn't a sexy thought at all. Glancing at Billie, he has a pretty good body, though, and it's hairless now, so I mumble, "Right away, Jon." 

Jon gets Billy from the corner, and it takes me five minutes to quickly cover the parts of his body that need the MAN creme; then Jon, who's still drinking the Coke sitting in a chair, says, "Billie, you stand in the corner again until the creme has time to do its magic." He says to me, "As an additional bonus, I'm going to let you give him the pussy boy shower the way I trained you to do it."
"EW!

Yeah, well, the MAN creme application didn't do much for me, and I'm having a tough time maintaining the submissive sense I'm paying for, so maybe the shower will help.

When Jon's done his soda, he mutters, "Okay, let's do this." Standing in the corner has affected Billie, and he's now very compliant and docile as Jon grips his neck and walks him to the bathroom, telling him, "Do what your client tells you." In the shower, he moves where, and when I tell him as I bathe the unpleasant aroma off him using a washcloth, not my hands. Instead of gaining a submissive sense, however, I can't even maintain a boner. He has a decent body, but he stinks. Near the end, though, as I'm washing his privates on my knees using my hands, I finally get a fairly hard boner because he doesn't stink now, and I remember having his cock in my mouth, so...

I only got away with using a washcloth because Jon wasn't watching. As soon as we got going with the pussy boy Jon went into the living room to watch something on TV. As I'm stroking a boner on Billie, I hear Jon yell, "Hurry the fuck up in there. I'll be late for dinner. It's Benny's night to cook."

Jon enters the bathroom as Billie and I are drying, getting Billie standing tall for inspection. Jon tells me to lube up, which I do in the bedroom. Billie watches me do it, pulling on his dick. I quickly suck a boner on Billie, then Jon tells him, "Fuck him as hard and fast as you can with him on his hands and knees. Make it fast, as he's only paying bargain basement prices this afternoon." 

Omigod, Billie is as horny as I am as he immediately rams in his good-sized boner inside me. That took me a bit by surprise, so I made a girlie screech before trying to embrace the pain. His fucking technique is rough and amateurish, but his boner grows into an okay size, and after a minute or so, I'm moaning, "Um, um, um," at the hard thrusting with sexual sensations building nicely now, and it goes on for eight or nine minutes. By then, I'm enjoying the hell out of this fuck, although it's a generic sex act. If Jon were fucking me, the dominant component would create a much higher degree of sexual arousal and a sharper climax.

There are "Slap, slap, slap" sounds and my moaning sounds along with Billie's gasps for breath. He's slamming his boner back and forth in my ass, the rim at the bottom of the head fatter and harder than the head. It is giving my prostate a thrill, me swaying on my hands and knees until I don't care who's fucking me, and then I go, "EEiiii, aah!" blowing cum from my nuts up and out my iron boner that's pointing straight down. 

The hot stream of fast-moving cum flies out my super sensitive rock-hard penis, splashing on the floor, cum spray hitting my legs. My shoulders shudder as I close my eyes, enjoying the zipping after-effects, and smile because 'Zippy' is my new name. Billie almost knocks me on my face when he humps against my buttocks hard, then partially fills me up with semen. Not a ton of it, though. He had the big load he shot down my throat earlier, but it's enough of a cum load that I feel sloppy inside.

He pulls out, mumbling, "I thought I went blind when I blew my load," then he chuckles and asks, "So, how much did I make today?" 

Jon mutters, "Not much. You've got a lot to learn." I'm getting up with a grin on my face because the relief from horniness is obvious. It was a way-below-average fuck, but good enough to take the edge off my horniness. Taking a deep breath, I grab some tissues to hold at my asshole, then head back into the bathroom. After cleaning up, I get dressed and find Billie standing in the living room while Jon explains all the things he did wrong. Finally, Jon says, "Okay, Zip, let me have the $100, and then let's get back to AC."

I paid him. I am calmer now, so it was worth the $100. Yeah, my horniness has temporarily been eliminated, but I'm wicked disappointed it wasn't Jon who eliminated it. Instead of just being content as I am now, I'd be psyched and feeling high as a kite after good sub/dom sex with Jon. With Billie, as I said, it was merely a generic sex act, but worth doing just the same.

During the ride back to the boardwalk, Jon gives Billie forty dollars, saying, "You didn't earn this, but I know you're broke, so get something to eat with the money." Then he tries pumping Billie up about the training he'll be getting, telling him the bullshit story about how much he'll earn once he's out on the street. 

As we get out of the car in the same parking lot we left an hour and a half ago, Jon says, "Ziggy, tomorrow morning, come directly to my apartment after your paddling."

Billy mutters, "Paddling?" Jon goes, "Mind your own business." Then to me, he says, "And I want to hear from Eli that you took your paddling punishment like a good pussy boy. When you're at my apartment, I'll tell you what I'll be doing. I can tell you that I'll have Billie do you again in the morning because you both need the training, and as your reward, Ziggy, I'll do you later, but both fucks are full price plus the surcharge for your paddling expenses. No more bargains." 

Billie, looking stupid, is rubbing his closely cropped head with one hand and his private parts with his other hand. Glancing at him, I realize I'm not horny enough to want to do it again with him now. I nod, "Yes, Jon. I'll see you tomorrow, and thank you for today."

He grabs the back of Billie's neck, muttering, "Yeah, Ziggy, and, um, I'm very pleased you're going to be one of my pussy boys. Very pleased!" Then to Billy, "Get moving," and off they go, leaving me standing here. The cockiness of Jon is something that gets me rubbing my privates like Billie was doing, but Jon can be nice too, like when he said he was very happy I was going to be his pussy boy. That gave me goosebumps and shivers. It made me feel good. He's perfect!

The text from Cowboy reminds me they're sleeping at Lee's place tonight, but I remembered that. Well, I need dinner, and I don't like eating alone, but maybe I'll get take-out food from a stand on the boardwalk. I go up the ramp and onto the boardwalk and almost walk into Derick, the arrogant potential pussy boy recruit of Jon's. 

I'm not especially horny, but this guy is right up my alley. Smallish body with better muscle definition than Jon or Bruce, and this guy is a cute motherfucker too. I go, "Hey, dude, how you doing?" He turns his cute face to me and says sternly, "Are you talking to me?" I smile, "Yes, I met you earlier today with Jon Scheyer."

In a bored tone of voice, he goes, "Oh yeah, how's it going, um, Zappy. Is that right?" 

"It's Zippy, and it's going good."

With his light brown hair cut short, but not pussy boy short, and his outstanding looks, he could be the All-American boy instead of the prostitute he might be six weeks from now. I work up some nerve and say, "I'm getting something to eat. Care to join me?"

He lets out a long exhale, makes a face, and says, "No offense, pal, but I don't know you. I met you for sixty seconds, so why would I want to have dinner with you?"

I'm going to be a street prostitute, so I'll practice talking to a potential client. Shrugging, I say, "I thought maybe you'd like to party a little bit after we get something to eat or before we eat."

Frowning, "Dude, are you propositioning me?" 

I shrug again and smile invitingly. Fuck, this is weak. It's not like bar pick-ups where money isn't involved. He points at me, "Oh, yeah, I remember. Um, you were extremely submissive to Scheyer, right? You'll probably want me to spank you like you're a bad boy, and then I'll need to fuck your submissive brains out. Huh? Well, I need to ask myself how much I should charge you. Or, how much are you willing to spend? Let's start there."

What? Am I supposed to be the client or the prostitute?  He's so arrogantly smug I can't help but mutter, "I don't care to be spanked if that's okay. You're right about the other stuff, though. That's all the stuff I expect when I'm paying for it. Um, would a couple of hundred dollars be enough?"

He chuckles and asks, "Seriously? Holy shit! Scheyer was telling me the truth, except maybe this is a setup to convince me it was easy to get rich from hooking. Even if it is, that shouldn't prevent me from taking the two hundred dollars you offered." 

He rubs my shoulder, then my head, grinning and adding, "I gotta wonder, though. Um, you're hot, sexy, and handsome, so why do you need to pay me for sex?" 

I mumble, "What? No, I mean, I knew you were considering Jon's offer, and you almost bumped into me, but I don't know. I was goofing around, I guess. Okay?"

He's a cheeky sonofabitch; grinning, he puts his arm across my shoulders and rubs my head again, saying, "You're a big, strong fella, and you need to get fucked, don'cha?"

I feel the delicious submissive sense slide over me. He's another ballsy guy I could put in my pocket, except I don't want to. He says, "Hey, Scheyer said you weren't actually in his program or something like that. So, why are you keeping the pussy boy haircut? Did he put you up to this? He's a sneaky one. Cool, but I could tell he's a sneaky one."

It must occur to Derick that I'm bigger and stronger than him, and yet he's bullying me. How do guys like him know what they can get away with? It's fascinating to me. Without any obligation to explain, I say, "Oh, yeah. I didn't want the haircut, but Jon did it anyway, and now I like it."

His face lights up as he goes, "That's so cool. He gave you this haircut, knowing that you didn't want it. Did he tie you to a chair?"

He watched me grope myself, so I quickly moved my hand, muttering, "No, he just sat me down and did it."  This is getting to be too embarrassing. What if he decides to be one of Jon's recruits? I need to do something, so I step away from his arm and mutter, "Fuck this. I was goofing around with you, and you've taken it the wrong way."

He puts this cute, puzzled look on, asking, "Oh, so you don't want me spanking your cure bare ass and then fucking your brains out, right?" 
Jesus, I grope my junk again, shaking my head as if I don't want it, but ask, "Is two hundred enough, do you think?

He sees me glance at the bulge in his crotch. He smirks and mumbles, "Maybe it's not enough. I'm staying at a dumpy motel about four miles outside of AC. I guarantee that you'll be one satisfied submissive motherfucker driving home after I'm done working you out." 

I was fooling my brain that that one shitty fuck from Billy was all I needed. Dropping all pretenses to the contrary, I'm groping my junk again, "Oh, yeah, I want to do that."

"Good. You seem extra needed, though. Let's make it three hundred dollars, and I'll fix you right up."

Nodding, "But you can't tell Jon."

He knows he's totally in charge, muttering, "Hey, don't make stipulations, okay? I'll tell him if I feel like it. My shit box car is parked at a bus stop. There isn't enough parking around here. C'mon, follow me." He puts his arm around the back of my neck, pulling my head down to his level, muttering, "And don't pull away from me again. Got it?" 

My cock is cement hard, "Yes, Derick." That paddling this morning resonates in my brain. Be docile, do what you're told, submissive boy!"

Tightening his arm around my neck, me bending at the waist, we walk past my car parked in the lot. I mutter, "My car," pointing at it. He says, "We'll take my car."

This is the kind of dominance I can't get enough of, and as uncomfortable as it is to walk bent over like this, I docilely do it moaning quietly, so sexually aroused I feel a wet spot in my underpants from precum dripping from my cement penis.

I'm highly psyched to do it with him and fuck the money. He must have had a similar thought, and when we stop at an old Volkswagen, Derick lets go of me and says, "No offense intended, but it's just occurred to me that most guys don't have three hundred dollars on their person, so how are you expecting to pay me for my sexual favors?"

He's cute, but not amazingly cute; just a little cute. He has a natural bully-type dominance that's attractive to me. I'm hooked on him, in other words. I say, "No, I'll pay you right now," and put my hand in my pocket as he grins, muttering, "Yeah, that'll work."

As I give him three hundred-dollar bills and ask, "You'll give me a ride back, right?"

Putting the money in his pocket, he knows he's got a real submissive sucker under control, muttering, "Don't worry about it. Get in the car and be quiet. I need to absorb my good fortune. Things don't usually work out this well for me. And I've been horny for a week, so fasten your seatbelt, Zappy; I'm ready to rock and roll on your pussy."

"It's Zippy."

He drives away, "Zippy, huh?" 

Oh man, I'm so excited, so horny, and I think I'm the lucky one." It's a ten-minute ride to the motel, and it is dumpy. Inside his room, without being told to, I get a condom from my wallet, and Derick says, "Hold onto that, Zip. Um, go ahead and get undressed." 

I'm trembling with anticipation, incongruously mad at Bruce for losing interest in sex and reducing me to this level of horniness. We're both naked in sixty seconds, only wearing shorts and T-shirts. Derick nods at a spot in front of him. I get on my knees, grateful he has this natural dominant air about him, although I don't think he realizes it fully. He sensed my submissiveness to him, and I don't know how he could miss it once he got slightly on top of me, I babbled, and he probably thought, 'This is too easy.' 

My cock is hard before I even put Derick's cock in my mouth.  Mmm, he smells good too, and his cock is so perfect-looking. Sliding the head into my mouth, I suck on it gently and then move the head against the warm, moist, soft parts in my mouth, against the inside of my cheeks, back and forth on my tongue, then pull a few inches of his penis's shaft inside my mouth with the head. My tongue licks as much of it as possible, feeling it getting hard as Derick rubs his fingers on my head, and I'm so fucking glad I accepted his dominant arrogance and did what he said. Why don't I always do what I'm told? It works out best when I do.

Shortly, both our cocks are hard as metal; I take his out of my mouth and hold it in my fingers as I lick and suck on his balls and scrotum until he quietly says, "I'm going to cum, Zap. Stop..."  Pressing my face to his crotch, I take a deep inhale before reluctantly sitting back on my heels and looking at him, me still holding his hard boner, precum drooling down my fingers. He goes, "Oh boy, it was hard to say stop, but I want to fuck you now." 

He wants me lying on my back, my ass at the end of the bed, my knees pulled back, and my legs spread, an arm around each one. He takes the condom from my fingers, nodding and smirking at my submissive position, me patiently waiting to be fucked. With a moan from my throat of desire, Derick reached over and stroked my boner until it was pointing straight up, then two more strokes as if he owned it. Smirking and taking his time, he then rolled the condom on his six-inch, chubby boner. 

I let out another moan, and, without any hesitation, he pushes his hard cock's head in past my sphincter muscle, the condom's lubricant helping greatly. There's pain, of course, but it's the best pain kind of pain: sexual pain that's almost like pleasure. I moan, "Ooh, umm. Ahh, Derick..." 

He looks serious now, nodding and pushing all six-plus inches of hard penis inside my body, then he leans heavily against my buttocks. With a hand on the bed on either side of me, he bends over until the side of his face is against mine. He murmurs, "This feels so fucking good it's hard to believe." He licks my forehead and humps against my buttocks once, twice, three times, moaning, "Mmm, mmm, mmm." Each hump moved his boner slightly inside my body as the pain faded away.
Lifting off me, he pulls his cock back; shivers of pleasure coming off my prostate make me squirm on the bed, my eyes closed to concentrate on every bit of it. Derick does three steady but slow penetrations, each one making me moan, Ahhh, ooh..." and shake and shudder at the sexual pleasure that soars from my rectum and all around my groin. Then he begins fucking me fast and hard, and I'm in ecstasy, moaning, "Um, um, um, oh, Derick..." calling his name as if we're lovers. Then letting go of my legs, I reach up, getting my hands behind his neck as he thrust, thrust, thrust his engorged penis back and forth in my rectum, my prostate, and anus in a frenzy of pleasure sensations and me shuddering with pleasure seemingly all over my body.

It's a thrill ride of pleasure with a stranger. Unable to control my climax, I blow my load while squealing a screechy squeal and not even being embarrassed about it. My cum shoots straight up, just missing hitting Derick in the face. It's a strong cum stream that gets caught by the force of gravity and comes down to land on the floor next to where Derick is standing, and he blows his load immediately after I blow mine. 

He does a quiet moan, pulls his cock out of my ass, mumbling, "Okay, Zappy, that should give you your money's worth." H steps back, and I mumble, "It's Zippy."

With a chuckle, he mutters, "Zippy. Right," and goes into the bathroom to flush the condom. 

Looking for something to use wiping the lubricant off my butt cheeks and anus, I settle for toilet paper, muttering, "Yeah, that was good, but it was too quick." Pulling on his underpants, Derick mumbles, "No refunds," then, "That's a good pussy for fucking. You should do okay as a street prostitute."

"Really? Thanks, Derick. Are you following through and joining Jon as a recruit? I am, and it'd be cool if we could do the training together."

He pulls on the T-shirt, saying, "Nah. You're queer, so it's not as big a deal for you. I'm slightly bisexual but mostly straight. Whoring is a crazy idea I had, but I'm not following through on it, and you're safe. I won't tell Jon you sold your pussy. I probably won't see him again, but I'd hang around for a couple of weeks if you're interested in me fucking you for two or three hundred bucks two or three times a week or more often." 

I'm not horny now, so I'm not out of my mind. I say, "Thanks, but I need to follow Jon's rules, and fucking on the side is a no-no in the pussy boy organization; sorry about that because I liked your fucking technique." 

I'm lying because it was an okay fuck, but not anything special, and I don't know if that bullshit I said about pussy boys' rules is true or not. I don't want to get in trouble and have Eli learn of it.

He drives me back to my car, and we bump fists, me three hundred dollars poorer and Derick with enough money to return to Delaware thinking he had a successful trip. Whatever.

During the twenty-minute drive to our apartment, I'm really being hard on myself for being so pitiful with Derick. Jesus, I was pathetic! I scream out loud, "WHY DID YOU TRY SOLICTING HIM? WHY?" Good God, I, of all people, thought I could pull that off. Yeah, well, I learned that I have a LOT to learn about being a prostitute. I'll be a good student/trainee for Jon. If I needed any more motivation than I already had after the paddling the past two mornings, I got it tonight trying to do something on my own and again realizing I suck on my own!

When I enter the apartment, I hear the shower running, so Bruce is home. It's eight-ten, so he just got here. Oops, I see the FED EX package from the pussy boy store. Bruce opened it, and two white Polo shirts and pale tan khaki shorts were spread out on the sofa. There's a computer-printed note saying the winter clothes aren't in yet. Huh!

I was going to tell Bruce about my pussy boy plans anyway, so I guess I need to do it now. That will be, um, awkward.

For a second, I feel sorry for myself. I'm a fuck up without Ronny as my leader. How can a six-foot-two, well-built, tough, good-looking guy like me act like a cunt to pint-sized arrogant gay guys? I don't have an answer, and it's humiliating to admit that I'm like that, but I also LIKE being this way. Do I act as I'm expected to or as it pleases me? I'm going to try pleasing myself for once.

Liquor will be needed. The shower stops, and I get shots of bourbon, Jim Beam, and two cans of Bud ready for when Bruce comes out of the bathroom. Meanwhile, I picked up one of the polo shirts and saw ZIPPY stitched on the left side under the shoulder. So, they're monogrammed the T-shirts now. That's cool! Well, not the name, but I'm stuck with it. Richard thought about me enough to change my name so the name 'Zach' wouldn't bring back bad memories to the boys. For some reason, that makes my dick tighten up. I'm Zippy; that sounds like 'Dippy,' which might have been behind Richard's thinking.

Bruce says, as a question, "Zach?" I turn, "Oh, Bruce, how are you?"

Wearing only boxer shorts, his hair still damp, he mumbles, "I'm tired but feeling good. I made a hundred dollars today. Um, Anne was very grateful for my help. She's so nice. I think she has a thing for me. Should I tell her I'm gay, do you think?"

"Yeah, in a subtle way, you should tell her so you don't hurt her later. Um, what do you think of this order from the pussy boy store?"

"Who is Zippy?"

"Let's have a shot and a beer." Holding out shot glasses up, I mutter, "To friendship," and we flash the burning booze down. I said 'friendship' because I think Bruce and I are destined to be best friends, not lovers. As we drink the beer I explain I've had a complete change of mind about pussy boys, and I'm going to be Jon Scheyer's trainee until the end of the summer. 

I explain that with him working at the cafe all day and Cowboy and Lee going away to college in a month, I need something to do, and I'm very curious about the revamped pussy boy training and blah, blah, blame, and how enamored I've become of Jon Scheyer, not that he has any feelings for me. He simply wants me as a recruit. After the training, I didn't know what I'd do, and blah, blah, blah.

Bruce finished his beer and said, "Against my better judgment, because I have work tomorrow, let's have another shot and beer anyway." We do with him saying, "To friendship," as we flash down the shot of bourbon. Then, he says, "You're the best friend I've ever had, Zach. Know that for sure, and I hope we're best friends for life. Um, Jon and other trainees fucking you during your training, um, does this mean I'm off the hook as your primary sex relief outlet? Not that we can't have sex once in a while, but for now, I can relax, right?"

That hurts! I collect my thoughts so I don't sound as disappointed as I am that he is so relieved he won't have to fuck me once a day, then nod, "Yes, Bruce, but I'm counting on what you said about doing it once in a while. Whenever you feel like it, Bruce, I'll be your sex outlet, and I'm thrilled to be your best friend."

Then, I tell him I need to be paddled for the problems I caused the organization and Richard in particular. Bruce shakes his head, "I caused the problems, Zack. You're getting paddled because of me."

Well, Bruce paddled me himself, unnecessarily several times, but why hurt his feelings by reminding him of that? He says, "I'll buy pain-reducing cream and apply it to your buttocks, Zack." 

Nodding, "Thanks, Bruce." Then I tell him about Richard changing my name to 'Zippy' and he laughs, muttering, "That's a dippy name, Zach." "Yeah, I know, so please don't tell the boys."

We joked about my new name and agreed on why Richard had changed it. Then, we hug, and, for different reasons, both shed a few tears, but I've never felt closer to Bruce, who is finally clingy. I've always wanted him to want to cling to me. Ha! Then, surprising me, Bruce talks about the business I've said I'll finance. He talks excitedly, "My research indicates what this city needs is a UPS store. There isn't one within twenty miles in any direction. The franchise fee, training, machines, etc., etc., will cost a quarter million dollars, but the annual income from the 5200 American UPS stores is blah, blah, blah. "

I'm nodding encouragingly, so Bruce says, "Zach, the initial upfront money can be as low as one hundred thousand; the rest is deferred and mortgaged and blah, blah, blah." Bruce continues selling the idea unnecessarily because, in my mind, I've already agreed to it. From the years in the Navy Seals, my old trust fund accumulated three hundred thousand in my Vanguard account, and now, every year, my new trust fund pays another two hundred thousand. Money has never concerned me for obvious reasons, and Bruce is talking casually about a quarter million shows how out of touch he is about money, never having any of it. We cancel each other out on that score, and I'll pay whatever it takes to get him into a legitimate business.

We don't have sex before going to sleep. I'm not horny anyway after Derick fucked me pretty well, and I can't remember a night Bruce was as relaxed as he was tonight. We snuggled while drifting off to sleep but without any sexual tension. Nobody wants to be a whore as their first choice for a career, but I needed a hobby, and this interests me because it's all about sex.

And, yeah, I get a hardon being near Job Scheyer!

To be continued...