Hal chowed down on his steak like he hadn't eaten in a week. When I gave him unrestricted

choice, he had ordered a Porterhouse, medium rare, along with wild rice, steamed snow peas, and

desert, if he wanted it. I had lost my appetite just by being in the presence of Dr. Sleazeball,

so I ordered a Chicken Caesar salad, with dressing on the side, to pick through as I watched Hal

eat.

I hadn't engaged him in much conversation since we left the restroom; I knew he needed

to vent, to purge, to get off his chest a great deal of information that he was holding in side,

but I wanted it to be on his terms, and at a when he was ready to share.

We had engaged in small talk on the way to the restaurant, and also when we had been

seated. I found out that he too was pursuing a teaching degree, and that although he was taking

many of the same classes as me, we hadn't been in any of the same ones yet. He also had to

retake one class, but he didn't divulge why. He just looked ashamed as he abruptly cut off the

conversation after sharing that bit of information, and he excused himself to the restroom.

Since the steak had arrived, he had looked at me several times during the meal, but didn't

offer any more conversation. I just sat and watched him eat, wondering how anyone could treat

such an angelic young man in the horrible way I had stumbled on him yesterday. I thanked my

lucky stars that it had been me to use that restroom, and not some sexual predator. It hadn't

looked like he had much choice over who was going to be the recipient of the restroom blowjob,

and maybe both of us were lucky that it had been me.

"How's the steak?" I inquired, hoping to strike up some conversation now that the meal

was nearly finished. He speared one of the few pieces remaining on his plate, and held it out

for me to try. He offered not a word.

I wondered if he was suffering from a form of shock, like the victims of sexual assault

often displayed, and that maybe he couldn't compel himself to speak. My eyes began to fill with

tears, and I thought I was going to lose it right there. I had to put on a brave face as I

moved around the bench in the booth where we were seated to get closer to him. He maintained

his posture, holding out the steak for me to sample. I moved closer, watching to see if he

involuntarily might retreat a little. He didn't.

When I was within a few inches of his leg, I stopped, and waited. He again offered the

steak. I reached out my hand and covered his, slowing lowering the hand and steak to the table.

Then I leaned in, and slowly touched my lips to his, pressing so gently that I could almost not

feel the contact. Without thinking, my tongue snaked out of my mouth, and licked the steak

sauce from the corner of his mouth. Damn it! Even now, my gift wanted to get into action. I

must have the horniest tongue on the planet!

I waited for Hal to move away, but he didn't. My tongue circled his lips, tasting the

juices from the meat. Again I waited, but only for a moment, as Hal brought his lips to mine,

just as gently as I had just done. His lips touched mine, then gently pressed in harder. I

could feel his lips parting, offering access. Right here in the restaurant!

Mr. Tongue jumped at the invitation and prepared to breach Hal's mouth. But before he

could get close, he stopped. Hal was depositing, into my mouth, a piece of steak he had been

holding in his. He pushed it in with his tongue, then withdrew. He backed away from my face

slightly, waiting to see if his offering was going to be accepted or rejected. The fear of

rejection almost jumped out of his eyes as they searched mine for a reaction.

I chewed and swallowed the porterhouse morsel, then leaned in and gave him the kiss he

deserved. It was a good thing that I had only eaten part of my salad, because when I was done

with this kid, I was going to have a stomach full of Hal's mouth! I couldn't stop kissing him,

and it didn't appear that Hal wanted me to stop, either!

The server for our table came over and tapped me on the shoulder and said that we needed

to leave. The couple at the next table had requested that we get a room so that they could

continue eating. I considered walking over and slapping both of them, but thought that I'd

already created enough of a scene.

I asked the server for the bill so that we could go, and threw the two twenties down on

the table. If only Doc knew that his money was helping Hal to be happy. He'd probably choke!

"The bill's been paid," the server informed me.

"I don't understand. Was that couple so eager to get rid of us......"

"No, sir, the owner paid your bill." Fuck! Now I'd never be able to come back to this

restaurant, and it was one of my favorites! I'll be barred!

The server leaned in to whisper in my ear, "The owner is gay, and wanted to thank you for

your display of affection. He doesn't know the extent of your relationship, but he said he

noticed the two of you when you came in, and he knew something was wrong. But not anymore. He

wants me to extend his sincere thank you for showing him that love for mankind is still alive

and well in the world today. And he wanted me to give you these."

The server shoved two business cards in my hand, and then he hurried both Hall and I out

the door, with the parting words, "I only hope that I can find someone to love like either of

you. It would be a great blessing."

Outside, we looked at the cards. They were the personal business cards of the owner, and

he had signed his name on the back, right below the words that he'd written: MY FRIENDS ARE

WELCOMED BACK ANY TIME. NO CHARGE. ANYTHING THEY WANT, TILL I DIE.

Honestly, I didn't know what to say. Hal broke the silence.

"He doesn't know us. How can he be so generous? I didn't know that there were people

this nice still around." His words told me more than he knew. The pain in Hall ran deep, and

he couldn't understand genuine respect and love. It might take a long time, but I was going to

stick around until Hall had replaced all those feelings of pain, low self-esteem, and sadness

with true happiness.

We went to the car and began talking. We drove around the city, giving Hal time to unload

the burdens of his soul. Doc was Dr. Thorne, a relatively new Professor of Education at the

university. He had recognized Hal as vulnerable in the first class Hall took. Being short and

thin for his age, he could pass for fourteen and everyone treated him like that.

Hal had been a major disappointment to his parents, unlike his two older brothers who had

been star athletes in high school and college, and who had gone on to get degrees in business.

Hal was clumsy and small, with no athletic prowess. He was a top scholar at his high school,

but not the valedictorian, so that didn't resonate with his parents. When he informed his

parents that he'd been accepted to UNLV to become a special education teacher, they wished him

luck and basically threw him out. Although his family lived in Las Vegas, he had to move into

university housing or be homeless. If not for financial aid, he would be homeless.

Other students didn't give Hal a second glance, except to make him the butt of jokes. In

classes, he was never chosen to join a group. And when professors assigned him work partners,

he was treated as an intrusion.

Doc had been able to recognize his vulnerability, and pretended to take Hal under his

wing, becoming his academic advisor, and even helping Hal to transfer to sections of classes

that he was teaching. Eventually, he effectively cut Hall off from others at the University who

could have helped, and he became Hal's sole emotional support.

Doc began to make demands on Hal, and began subtle threats about getting the grades needed

to pass his classes. The work had to always be better than it was. Doc could be very demanding

academically. Soon the demands became sexual, and since Hal had nowhere to turn, and Doc was

controlling whether he was earning credits, he went along until the situation had gotten to the

point of a "master/slave" relationship. Doc had even failed Hal in one class as a consequence

for stalling when Doc wanted his cherry. Hal was informed that it would forever be on his

academic record as a reminder that he better do what he was told when he was told to do it.

It had taken Doc only a year to get Hal to the point of offering anonymous sex in public

because Hal wanted to desperately get a degree and move away. Without the degree, he couldn't

support himself. And he was so emotionally dependent on Doc that he couldn't see any other way

out. It was like a job; he needed to get it done. And all of that brought him, Doc, and the

Smartphone to the restroom on Tuesday, where they had a chance encounter with me.

Hal told me that he had never experienced the kindness I had shown him when I indicated

to him that I was going to help him please his master, finish within the time limit, and not get

punished. He was thanking me for making him perform sex on me! My god, what had this monster

done to this young man? Right then, if I had access to Doc's address, and a gun, I might have

done something I would regret for the rest of my life. Mad doesn't begin to describe how I

felt right then.

When he had finished talking, Hal began quietly sobbing. I thought maybe it was emotional

release, but then he looked up at me with sad eyes and asked, "What do I do now? I have to go

back. He still controls my grades." The sobbing had been the result of the terror he felt.

Holy fuck! That had never crossed my mind! When I walked Hal out of the restroom, I

thought it was over. Doc would be reluctant to post the videos, or use them against Hal because

I had planted in his mind that he would lose Hal quicker by doing that. To hold on, he had to

let go of some of the stranglehold he had over Hal.

But I had walked a slave away from his master, and now he had to go back. Inadvertently,

I had made things immensely worse.

"Maybe you can live with me," I offered, "and you can hide out."

"I'd have to go to another university, and there aren't any nearby that offer a BS and MS

in Special education. Master still has control of my grades."

"Well, we can stay in contact by phone and I can make myself available to come get you

any time you're in danger, or asked to do something you don't want to do." I was going to need

to get that gun I had thought about earlier.

"Master took away my phone."

What an animal! Denying communication to a child of the technological age? He might j

ust as well have cut off both hands and had Hal's mouth sewn shut!

"I'm not sure what we're going to do to get you free from that jackal, but I want you to

know that you are not going to go unprotected. Let's go get you another phone!"

We drove a short distance to the store that sold me my phone, and I had him go in to pick

out what he wanted. I ran next door to "All Things Poetic," and eclectic poetry shop that also

sold bestsellers, magazines, and various other supplies. One thing that they sold, which I

wanted right now, was "safe" books. It looked like a book, bound in leather with a clasp that

could be locked, but open it up, and it had a place carved out of the pages to hold something

you wanted to hide; money, jewels, etc. easily fit within the book. You could hide things in

plain sight, while someone thought you were reading the classics. I picked one that would hold

a Smartphone, paid for it, and joined Hal next door where he was getting ready to choose his

phone.

"Get one with a good vibration," I suggested. "You're never going to want it to ring, so

you need that vibration to let you know you've got calls coming in, especially if you have it

inside this." I handed him the copy of Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' that I had picked up next

door.

"How did you know that I liked Shakespeare?"

"Just a guess. Open it."

Hal unclasped the book and spread the cover open. A strange frown crossed his face.

"It's been damaged."

'No, silly, the Smartphone fits in here, and no one knows you've got it, not even one

highly educated asshole that we know."

It took a moment to register in his brain, and when it did, Hal began crying, almost

uncontrollably, right there in the store. He fell forward into my arms. Several store

employees looked at us strangely. I offered, "It's our anniversary, so I thought it deserved

a gift."

One young lady walked over and extended her hand for a handshake. "So how long has it

been?"

"Two days," I replied. The strange look reappeared on her face. I was ready to usher

Hal out of the store when I remembered we hadn't paid yet, so we approached the counter to

finish the transaction. "Can we add a cover for the Smartphone?" I asked the salesman. "We'll

take that purple one right there," and I pointed to the one I wanted. Hal erupted in louder

crying.

"Gotta get him home. Past his bedtime!"

I paid, and we hurried out.

"Okay, Hal, I get the crying about the phone and the "safe" book, but the purple cover?

Can you explain?"

He couldn't find his voice. He just kept sobbing.

"Did you want a different color?"

He shook his head no, emphatically.

"I picked purple because I thought I saw some lavender showing through you beautiful blue

eyes, and thought it might help to bring out the beauty and sparkle." His crying increased in

intensity again. Maybe I said the wrong thing. Maybe I need to shut up and give him time.

Jeez, I was acting like I was trying to close a sale. I needed to give him space!

After a few minutes, Hal had calmed enough that he could begin to tell me what was going

on. He hadn't gotten a gift from anyone since Christmas of his senior year in high school.

Shortly after that, he had announced his plans to become a teacher, and all affection from his

parents, what little there had been, had stopped.

And the purple Smartphone cover? When Doc had taken control, he changed Hal's clothing to

non-descript styles and colors. Previously he had worn purple, yellow, bright orange, and

colors like that, but Doc didn't allow it anymore. The choice of purple had triggered a memory

he'd buried.

The man was even telling Hal how to dress. He had no opportunity to express anything

other than what Doc wanted--servitude. The idea about the gun crossed my mind again. Maybe

there was another way.

"Where do you want to sleep tonight? Are you living with Doc?"

"No, at the dorm. I at least have that place to myself."

"Will you be okay there tonight?"

"Yes, but can I please have your phone number so that I feel safe."

Now it was my turn to cry.

After dropping Hal at his dorm, I drove home to my apartment off Desert Inn Road. I

parked in my assigned place right behind the building, and walked around to the front door,

where I found Anthony waiting for me. He jumped up and greeted me with a smile, and a

sexy, "Hi!"

"Anthony, how long have you been waiting here?"

"Oh, not long," he offered. He didn't sound convincing.

"How long?" I repeated.

"I walked over right after class this afternoon."

"Jeez, you walked five miles in this heat! Are you crazy?" He gave me a stupid grin and

shrugged his shoulders. I leaned in for a smell. Most of the perspiration had dried, but he

stunk! He was in need of a shower, really soon!

"When did you last eat?"

"Breakfast?"

Fuck, I better get him inside and feed the boy. If he passed out here on the steps, I'd

never get him inside. He had me by at least four inches and probably seventy five pounds!

"Let's go. Shower first, then food. Quickly, quickly!"

The bad thing about a one bedroom, one bath apartment is that if two people need to use

the bathroom, the rule is that one has to wait. The good thing? Rules were made to be broken.

Anthony headed for the bathroom and stripped while I turned on the shower for him. Then I

stripped to sponge off before changing into some comfortable workout shorts. As Anthony stepped

into the shower, he tried to pull me in with him, but I told him, "No time for games right now.

I have to prepare to feed a ravenous stud!" He laughed, then pulled the shower curtain closed

and got to work. I really did want to join him, but went out to the kitchen instead.

I pulled two tubs of chili out of the freezer. They were my special recipe three bean

chili; black and pinto beans, along with hot chili beans. The sauce was a green, tomatillo

sauce that really helped to bring out the flavors of all the ingredients. Cubes of sirloin steak,

sauted onion, celery and summer squash, along with one roasted, mashed jalapeno pepper, helped to

make this a recipe I really enjoyed to make, as well as consume. I hoped that Anthony would

like it.

As I put them in the microwave to begin thawing, I reassessed the situation and pulled

out one more tub of chili. My guess was that Anthony probably could eat a lot, especially

if he liked it.

I began to whip up a batch of cornbread at the counter, and was putting it in a cast

iron skillet to bake in the oven when two arms reached around me and a set of warm lips began

to nuzzle my neck.

"Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes," I informed Anthony. "I hope that

chili and cornbread will be okay."

"And you?"

I turned, expecting to see Anthony wrapped in a towel, but there he stood, in all his

glory. It was the first time I had seen his magnificent body naked; the body that I had lusted

for, even before I knew I was lusting for it, was now unwrapped like a gift on Christmas morning,

and the look in his eyes told me that it was all mine to play with. Bur first, dinner!

"No, I thought we'd have rocky road ice cream for dessert."

He smiled, scaulding me with the hotness of his gaze. "I'd rather have Denny cream

for dessert." Anthony took a few steps forward, crushing his massive cock into my package

being contained within the workout shorts. I felt myself finish the "bone-up" process that had

begun with the nuzzling.

"Let's handle the food first, entertainment later, okay?" I would gladly entertain that

picture perfect man tool, right down my throat. It was soft, stiff, rigid, thick, long,

dripping.....and I was making myself drool. I could feel the edge of the large mushroom head

rubbing against my leg, and it took every ounce of control I had to not throw him down on the

floor and engulf that monster!

Anthony raised my chin to look into my eyes. "I can live on love." Just then, his

stomach growled, and he screwed his face into a silly grin while shrugging his shoulders, as

though he had no idea where that noise had come from.

"You are not fooling anyone, buddy. Let's eat first, then talk." I was losing my

resolve. Hell, I didn't even sound convincing to me! But I moved away to give the chili more

time on the microwave, and stopped at the fridge for a few ingredients.

"Do you want to help finish the preparations," I asked him. Anthony shrugged his

shoulders and responded, "I'm totally horrible in the kitchen. I burn water. I can't even

make mac and cheese out of a box without goofing it up."

"Well, today we change that!" I grabbed a long kitchen hand towel and wrapped it

around his waist, knotting it at the back, then turned him toward the cupboard. I took his

hands in mine while standing behind him, intending to make a honey-butter spread for the

cornbread. But because Anthony is taller, wider and more muscular than I, I couldn't see

anything.

"This isn't going to work. Change places," I commanded.

"May I suggest the bedroom? You know, as the place to change to."

Anthony was just not going to give up. I got between him and the cupboard, and again

took his arms around my waist and his hands in mine so that he was doing the work, but I was

guiding. He rested his chin on my shoulder so that he could see what he was doing. He rested

his chest against my back, none to gently.

"Wait. Zee chef needs zee atmosphere to be jus-s-s-s right," Anthony blurted with as

good of a fake accent as he could muster. With that, he took back his right hand, removed the

towel from his waist, and pulled my shorts down to my knees. Then he moved back into me,

wedging his cock in my ass trench. "Okay, begin!"

I was giggling, but tried to get myself under control so that I could explain what I was

doing.

"You take about half a stick of butter that's been at room temperature, and put it in

the bowl. You don't want it too stiff or you can't make it do what you want."

Anthony gave a little push with his hips.

"Take the honey and drizzle it over the entire half stick. You want it coated in a

thin sheen of sparkling liquid."

Anthony wiggled his ass, and rubbed his pubic area all over my ass cheeks.

"Now we'll take a fork and fold the two together, lifting from the bottom and folding up

over the top."

Anthony was rubbing his man tool up and down in my crack.

"You have to be careful to not whip it. Too many people spoil the final product by

overworking it, instead of just letting the two join together effortlessly, blending in so that

you can't tell where one begins and the other ends."

Ass wiggling again. Along with a little dry humping.

"You know its right when the whole sticky thing blends together, but doesn't look like

one big glob. You can see the strands and strings of clear and opaque creaminess through the

mixture, and when you pull out the fork, you can create a long string which just hangs from it.

Then, dip the fork back in and start all over."

Anthony's breath was getting ragged, and I was sweating. The kitchen was warm from the

oven being turned on high to bake the cornbread. Soon the cornbread would be done. I needed to

finish.

"Finally, the secret ingredient. Hot Sauce. Flamin' hot, sweat-inducing, searing

liquid hot sauce."

Anthony was making little jabs with his hips. I found it hard to speak.

"The hot sauce makes the sweetness sizzle with a tang that can take your breath away."

I was beginning to pant for air. Anthony's up and down rubbing was increasing in speed.

"Just a quick dash into the mix, and voila!"

Anthony gasped, then squealed as he dumped a load of cum into the valley between my

mounds. His body broke into involuntary up and down spasms, and he groaned directly into my

ear. His chin had never left my shoulder, but the rest of his body had gone elsewhere.

As I backed away from the cupboard, it was apparent that I, too, had finished. All

down the cabinet door.

Anthony backed away from me, looked at me sheepishly, and went to retrieve a towel from

the bathroom. As he lovingly wiped up the mess he and I had made, he got a devilish look in

his eye. "Do you think the honey-butter needs another special ingredient?" he asked as he began

to wipe my cum from the door.

"My god, are you insatiable? I'm starving and you should be! Get over here and eat!

The food, I mean."

Anthony sat his naked butt down on a dining room chair, and proceeded to devour two and

a half tubs of chili and most of the cornbread. With honey-butter on each piece!

That evening, we sucked ourselves into oblivion, doing a sixty-nine several times. I

used my gift to bring him pleasure, once keeping him edged for over half an hour while he begged

for release. Anthony also begged me to fuck him until I gave in. Even with my undersized tool,

he came buckets when he climaxed.

But I didn't give up my cherry. I wasn't ready yet. I did ask Anthony why he bottomed

so much when he was hung like a horse. He said he had topped both girls and guys when he was

younger. I had to laugh; a twenty-year-old talking about when he was younger.

Anyway, it had become boring for him, because he couldn't really tell if the pleasure

he seemed to be providing was real or fake. The thought had entered his mind when he overheard

some of his high school girlfriends talking about faking their orgasms. He overheard this

numerous times, about numerous orgasms. So topping didn't seem as much fun anymore. Oh sure,

the top gets off, but for Anthony, a good deal of his pleasure came from pleasuring others.

Real pleasure, exciting pleasure, freakin' mind-blowing pleasure; not something faked. Maybe

that's what he meant when he told me the very first night we met that the best sex is from the

neck up, and it involves giving pleasure as well as getting it.

I don't know if he thought that our conversation was going to lead to him topping me,

but it didn't. But I did cum twice and Anthony came three times; once more each, if you count

the kitchen. I guess I'll never make honey-butter again without thinking about the other sticky

spread that we made together.

.......to be continued.............

 

DJ

[email protected]

Top


Rate Story Choose rating between 1 (worst) and 10 (best).

Bookmark and Share

blog comments powered by Disqus