The Handyman

 “Where did you get those? Those look fresh. You said that Cole didn’t . . .”

“No, it wasn’t Cole. It’s OK, it doesn’t hurt much.”

Tab had called the bank and asked Ben Semple if he was interested in a nooner at the apartment.

“Always,” Ben had answered. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Ben was already stripping his shirt off as he entered his apartment, and that’s when Tab had seen the welts on his back.

“God, Ben. They’re on your butt and the backs of your thighs too,” Tab exclaimed further as Ben stripped completely down. “This was kinky sex. Who did it, if not Cole?”

“It was Avery Shern, OK? Senator Avery Shern. So, it’s just going to be OK . . . OK?”

“No, it’s not OK. Does he do this often? He fucked you too, didn’t he?”

“You asked before. I told you that I sometimes took cock. That’s what Shern wants, so that’s what Shern gets.”

“Here, lay down over here on your belly. Now I know why you have the large bottle of salve that’s in your medicine chest. Let me put some more on--”

“I came because you said you wanted to fuck.” Ben’s voice was defiant, irritated. “I didn’t come to discuss my sex life with others.”

“And so we will. But why do you let him do this?”

“This is his town. We’ve been over this before. And he’s after my little brother, if you must know. He’s barely legal and already Avery Shern is sniffing around him.”

“So, you’re trying to divert him from your younger brother. You think that’s going to work?”

Ben was on his belly on the mat in front of the French windows overlooking the marina, and Tab, naked now himself, was rubbing salve on his thighs and back. Ben sighed.

“No, not if my brother stays here,” Ben responded after a moment of contemplation. “But I’m thinking of trying to get my brother away from here. Maybe move him south for college--his grades aren’t too good, but he’s a fine athlete.”

“But he might come back to Shernhaven now and again, right?”

“Right. Oh god that feels good.”

Tab had straddled Ben’s hips loosely with his knees and was rubbing his hard cock up and down across Ben’s hole between his butt cheeks while he was applying more salve to the man’s back.

“You really think you’re going to keep Avery Shern from a Semple man he wants?”

“I suppose not. But Demonte’s barely eighteen. I can keep him away from Shern for a while longer at least. Oh, shit. Oh, holy shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

While rubbing salve on Ben’s butt cheeks, Tab had spread them, positioned his cock at Ben’s opening, pushed inside, and each of his thrusts was being answered with a “shit” from Ben.

There was no more talking for the next fifteen minutes. Just heavy breathing, moans, and grunts. Tab ran his hand under Ben’s belly and pulled him up onto his hands and knees. As Tab fucked Ben doggy style, he ran his hand below Ben’s belly and latched onto his cock and jacked him off to a mutual ejaculation.

* * * *

“So, you really are going?”

“Yep, by the time you get off at the bank this evening, I’ll be gone.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You don’t have to miss me. You could come with me?”

“I don’t see how I can. Shernhaven is all I’ve known.”

Tab moved to a more comfortable position, rolling onto his side while rolling Ben Semple with him, maintaining the purchase of his softening cock inside Ben. This placed them both overlooking the masts of sailboats in the Shernhaven harbor marina through the French windows.

“I think that’s your problem--why you’ve said you feel antsy and dissatisfied with so much in life. I think you’ve been enslaved by Shernhaven and by your boss, Trevor Cole, too. And, even by Avery Shern.”

“Well if they could see you fucking me like this, they’d certainly be angry,” Ben responded. “Cole knows what Shern does to me now and again--but he can’t say anything. It doesn’t mean he isn’t angry about it.”

“I can imagine. I’ve heard he can be violent.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve never seen it.”

“That’s because you’ve given him all he wants from you. You’ve played his slave.”

“That’s the second time you’ve used that word. That’s a pretty explosive word to use with me.”

“And I didn’t do it lightly. I think something or someone needs to get your attention. As long as you stay here in Shernhaven, you are going to be a slave to it and to the entitled families who act like they own the town. You don’t think that letting Shern chain you to a wall, beat you, and then fuck you is treating you like a slave?”

“My family’s been here almost since the founding. We have a street named after us here. How many other black families in Massachusetts can say as much?”

“And all the good it’s done you. Your family is respected, yes. Because it knows its place and keeps its place here. You know, sometimes I think our behavior is genetic--that we inherit our proclivities. You said your family operated Hernando’s, the gay bar, with its extra services, even before it was Hernando’s--when it was named Henry’s. Did it offer the same services then?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Some of my brothers and cousins still do that there.”

“And they let men fuck them? Your little brother doesn’t know about this, isn’t likely to fall into this on his own with or without Shern’s help?”

“Demonte fucks men. Already. But that doesn’t mean I want Shern at him with what he likes to do.”

“And this servicing of the white men in this town by Semple cock. How many generations has this been going on? How many generations of Cole men have had their Semple to fuck them? How many Shern men have torture-fucked a Semple?”

Ben didn’t respond.

“As I said, sometimes I think it’s genetic--that we inherit our turn-ons and our proclivities and positions--in more ways than one--in life. It’s a wonder there are so many Semples in the world--or Sherns, and Coles or Fischers, for that matter, from what I’ve heard. Their men have been so busy fucking each other down through the generation that it’s a miracle they had time, effort, and inclination to plow their wives as well.”

“As far as Semples go, we’ve always had enough steam to fuck anything we wanted.” Ben followed that up with a low laugh, as if he was taking it all as a joke. But Tab thought--hoped--that he was listening and absorbing. But he’d probed enough.

“But maybe it’s mostly environment. We’re back to you letting the environment of Shernhaven and its first families control your life. It’s you doing the fucking mostly, but even then it’s them with a leash around your balls. Who was worried when we started fucking just now that your boss would be angry that you went back to the office late?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Think about it. You know where I’m going next. I’ll be there a while. Long enough for you to decide whether you are too comfortable in the subservient role here to break free. And haven’t you told me more than once that this loan business is getting to you--that there’s no money to give out and that you find it depressing to tell people no all of the time?”

“Well. My area is accounting. It wouldn’t have to be in a bank.”

“Except that the comfortable place for you is a bank--because the man who controls you is the president of the bank. I said for you to think about it. You could be your own man. You don’t have to be the slave element of Shernhaven.”

They laid there for several minutes, each listening to the regularizing breathing of the other, the senses of each concentrated on the softening cock inside Ben--until Tab ran his fingers down Ben’s belly and took possession of the young black man’s cock and began to work it. Each of them knew where this would be going if Ben didn’t pull away to return to the bank.

“You’ve given notice at the shipyard?”

“I don’t think I have to. I think by this evening they’ll all know.”

“I have to get back to the bank.”

“I’ll bet Cole isn’t even there--that he won’t be back at the bank for hours yet.”

“You think? You just want me to fuck you.”

“Yes, I want you to fuck me. Now. It’s your turn.”

* * * *

“You’re late.”

“You could have left. You waited for me because you want it bad, don’t you? You’re panting for it.”

Trevor Cole was sitting at the bar in Hernando’s, looking quite impatient, two beer bottles on the bar between his hands, one empty, the other getting there.

“You’re an arrogant little prick, aren’t you?”

“Funny coming from you,” Tab responded in an even voice. “You’re the one who has been begging me for it. Leaving all those messages at the shipyard. Don’t think the guys down there don’t know what you are sniffing around for. This is an awfully small town, and you have cut quite a swathe across it. Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Cole turned redder--but only for a moment. He smiled, although it took him effort to do it and laid a hand on Tab’s forearm. Tab looked down at the hand, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’ve got a room upstairs.”

“It’ll cost you a hundred. For my cock. I don’t care what you have to pay for the room.”

“Christallmighty, do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yeah, I hear you’re a banker. So you have money--at least you do if you want the stud you’ve been nosing around to get to fuck you. You want to see it first? I guarantee it will make you pee your pants. You don’t want to pay, you’re wasting my time. I’ll be going back to the shipyard to finish my shift.”

“OK, OK, here. Here’s a hundred.”

Watching Trevor pull a few layers off a roll that didn’t seem to suffer any for the loss made Tab think he hadn’t asked for enough. But a hundred would be impressive for the guys in Hernando’s listening in on the conversation as well as they could.

“Barkeep,” Tab called out and a big bruiser of a Hispanic man sauntered down from the other end of the bar where he’d been jawing with two good-looking young Hispanic men who were obviously part of crew in here. One of them, clad only in a G-string had just come down from a pole on a raised stage in the back corner of the bar. When the bartender arrived, Tab leaned over the bar and signaled for the bartender to come in close, which he did, and Tab whispered something to him and gave him the hundred dollars Cole had given him.

“What was that about?” Cole asked, as Tab took his arm and pulled him down off the bar stool and pointed him toward the stairs to the rooms above the bar.

“Did you come here to gossip or to fuck?” Tab asked.

“You know, for a hundred bucks you could be a whole lot more pleasant.”

“Again, did you come here for a conversation, or for my cock? This is what you paid for.” Tab took Cole’s hand and laid it on his crotch. Cole shivered with pleasure and said no more as they climbed the stairs.

Then he broke out into a broad grin when they got to one of the small rooms above and Cole turned back toward Tab while stripping his clothes off to find Tab already stripped down to just a red bandana and construction boots.

“How did you . . . ?”

“Andy Stilton worked early summer at the shipyard. As I said, you’re pretty much a legend around here.”

Tab motioned and Cole sank down to his knees in front of Tab and drew Tab’s pelvis toward his face with guiding hands on the young man’s buttocks.

“Oh godohogod oh god, I’m gonna come.” When they’d moved to the bed, Tab had taken control and was straddling the banker front to back, each sucking the other.

“No you’re not,” Tab said as he pulled his mouth off Cole’s cock and held the other man still on the bed, not letting him twitch a muscle until the rise in the man’s juices had subsided.

It wasn’t long until Tab had pushed Cole down on his belly and mounted his hips and was plowing him from above.

“Shit! Oh holy shit! I’m gonna . . .”

“No you’re not,” Tab said, stopping the whole process dead again and holding Cole until he’d stopped writhing and trembling.

“God, you’re good. Worth every . . . where? Where are you going?”

Tab had risen off Cole and was moving toward the door into the corridor.

“Where are you going? I haven’t . . .”

“And you won’t--at least from anything I’ll do to you.”

Tab had the door open. He motioned to someone out in the corridor, and the young Hispanic who’d been on the pole downstairs slid into the room. Tab pulled the young man to him, both Tab and the young man facing Cole on the bed. Tab embraced the young man from behind and slid his hand down his belly and then on down to cover the mound of the gold lamé G-string pouch. His other hand unsnapped the string at the young man’s hip, and the pouch that had been covering the Hispanic’s “goods” was replaced by Tab’s cupped hand.

“What are you doing? I paid for you. Not for this.” Cole’s fury nearly choked off his voice.

“It’s time you learned that you can’t have everything you want, Trevor--that people here know you for what you are. I wouldn’t have you for a thousand dollars. And this is what I have to say to your hundred dollars.”

Tab virtually carried the young Hispanic to a hard-backed arm chair near the bed, pushed him into the chair, grabbed and spread his legs over the arms, and crouched down and pushed his hard cock up into the young Hispanic’s hole. The dreamy-eyed Hispanic cupped Tab’s head in his hands and brought Tab’s mouth down to his, moaning deeply, as Tab’s cock disappeared up into the young man’s passage.

When Tab had time to look up from his work, Cole was gone from the room. By then Tab was really into his work and the Hispanic was determined to give him a hundred dollars worth of trade, so Tab moved him to the bed.

Tab needed to work out his anger before he went to his next stop for the day. He needed to be calm and in full control for that. He took out that anger inside the young Hispanic, who yodeled his pleasure as the springs on the bed played a rhythmic symphony of clashing symbols and roaring cum.

* * * *

Tab sat at the bar of Hernando’s and nursed a couple of beers for an hour. He rather regretted that he’d only been here that once and now he was leaving town. The Hispanic guy had been a great lay. Tab had intended only to be at him as long as it took Cole to be insulted that his hundred dollars had gone to some other guy’s fuck and he’d been left teased but not satisfied. This was something Cole wasn’t used to--which was the main reason Tab had done it. The Hispanic youth had earned every dollar, though, and the house pimp sent him hobbling home to recover.

Half past three of the same day Tab pushed away from the bar, acknowledged the wave and blown kiss from another hopeful Hispanic guy dancing the pole, and started off on a sharply uphill walk up Upper Head Road to the Shern mansion at the end of the bluff.

He’d been told where to report in the note his supervisor had handed over to him the previous day. Up until then Tab hadn’t known just what day he’d be quitting the shipyard and moving on, but the note had been something he’d been waiting for, so receiving it brought Tab’s plans to a head.

When the shift supervisor handed Tab the note, he’d winked and told him he was a lucky guy--at least in what he’d be making off the appointment.

“Don’t think you’ll be up to comin’ to work for a few days afterward. But you’re covered, it’s OK. I recommend you get some Miller’s salve before you go up there. And remember who runs this town, in case you might be thinking about makin’ waves about it afterward.”

Tab didn’t ask why he’d need Miller’s salve. He already knew. The supervisor seemed a bit preplexed why he didn’t ask, but Tab didn’t enlighten him.

Tab just grunted and took the note, not being surprised what it said. He’d planned pretty hard to be getting such a note. He’d assessed the situation, let the supervisor fuck him a couple of times, gave him a great lay each time, and then he left it up to the supervisor to pass word up to the top of the bluff to the Shern mansion--which obviously he had done.

Senator Shern’s note told Tab where to meet him. Not in the main house but at a shed around behind the five-car garage. Tab was pleased with this. The shed would be more remote than the house. A guy like Senator Avery Shern was sure to have a bunch of servants. But he also probably wouldn’t let any of them go near his shed.

The senator was at the shed door, waiting for Tab. They went inside, where Tab saw, as he expected and was counting on, a well-appointed BDSM chamber.

Tab undressed as bidden and then redressed as requested--leather strappings criss-crossing his chest, a leather-pouched G-string, black boots to replace his combat boots, black-leather wrist bands.

Shern expressed disappointment that he had no piercings or tattoos, but Tab just laughed and said he was only into the fuck--that the fuck itself had always been enough for his partners.

Shern rechecked, and Tab confirmed he’d do it any way the senator wanted.

The senator sat on a black wooden throne with spikes coming out of the top of the seat back while Tab knelt between his thighs and sucked him to an ejaculation.

It was after that that Shern’s agenda got changed. When he motioned Tab over to the stone wall at the back of the shed and noted that the rings in Tab’s wrist bands attached to iron rings on the wall overhead, instead of letting Shern raise his arms and bind his wrists to the wall, Tab pulled off the wristbands, and, after only a cursory struggle in which the senator was overmatched, attached them to Shern’s wrists, as the senator hollered and squirmed, and trussed him up to the wall.

Within minutes, Shern’s plan to be flogging and fucking a bound Tab had been reversed. Shern obviously was much less accustomed to this role than Tab was, and he’d sworn and screamed and begged in loud tones until he was well past having any dignity or anal virginity to protect. Then he just hung there, whimpering and gurgling as Tab fucked him royally with a flexible rubber truncheon he’d found among Shern’s toys. He told Shern that he wasn’t worthy of the use of Tab’s cock, and he laughed to himself at that little joke. Just a couple of hours earlier he’d been using his cock to fuck an Hispanic male prostitute.

“I have never . . . no one has ever dared . . .” Shern growled in frustration when Tab was done.

“That’s why I did it,” Tab whispered in his ear. “Now, if you don’t want me to look around here for something really, really big to shove up your ass, I want you to tell me something. And I want you to answer truthfully. And if I find out you haven’t, I’ll be back.”

“You’ll regret this,” Shern hissed.

“Not as much as you will, senator,” Tab answered. “Answer my question. Otherwise I’ll call the police and tell them where--and how--they can find you.”

“What? What? Ask it and go,” Shern murmured in an exhausted voice. Shern didn’t seem concerned by the mention of the police. And Tab well knew he wouldn’t be. The Sherns had had the local police authorities in their pocket before there had been local police authorities.

“Where is your son? Where is Alden Shern?”

Receiving the information he wanted, Tab dressed and moved to the door. Shern cursed him and told him he was a dead man if he didn’t release him from where he was bound to the wall. Tab just laughed and walked out of the shed.

He’d been rougher than he’d intended. He’d been rough enough that he was surprised that the old man had taken it. But he wasn’t sorry. He probably wouldn’t have given it so hard if he hadn’t hooked up with Ben earlier in the afternoon and seen what the senator had done to him.

Tab walked back down the Upper Head road, turned right onto Semple and then up to Cushing, where, at the corner Hernando’s was located on, he turned left on Cushing and walked across the top of Shern Park to the bus depot at the corner of Cushing and Braintree road.

The bank was across the street from that, and when he looked, Ben Semple was standing in the window of the bank, giving him a forlorn look and a little wave of his hand.

Tab nodded his head, walked into the bus depot, and bought a ticket for Duxbury. While he was waiting for his bus, he went to the pay phone, looked up a number in the telephone book, called the local paper, and told them where they could find Senator Avery Shern, that he probably required finding sooner rather than later, and that they should send someone with an open mind and a keen sense of humor--and with a camera.

He’d said he wouldn’t notify the police if Shern answered his question; he hadn’t said anything about not notifying the local newspaper.