The following Monday I returned to his neighborhood. I wasn't used to being out this early, driving around in the sunlight for anyone to see. I felt exposed, a raw nerve - but it was for a good reason. I parked the car a block away and walked down the sidewalk, my hands in my pockets, whistling softly. I was not wearing my usual dark clothes, oh no. I wore a white, button-up collared shirt, loose jeans, and loafers. I carried a simple bag over my shoulder that looked as if it held nothing more innocuous than a laptop. I'd trimmed the edges of my stubble. My eyes were bright and my smile friendly, and I was very, very white. None of the few people out and about looked twice at me as I strolled through his front gate and walked around to his back porch.
No one was home, of course. The blinds were shut, shades drawn. They didn't own a dog. I tried the doorknob. It was as old as the house, and would have easily been bypassed with a credit card - but they had a deadbolt just above it. I looked around the porch. Lots of potted plants. I looked under each of them until I found it - a spare key, inexpertly hidden beneath a rosemary bush. How quaint. I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
His house smelled like old flowers and Fabreeze. I crossed the little blue kitchen with its table-for-two and its black and white checkered tiles. The living room was full of framed movie posters from the fifties and potted aloe plants and funky paintings of large predatory cats. Their sofa was even covered with tiger print throws. I ignored it and went into the bedroom. I could smell him here, under his wife's powdery scent. It made me a little hard, but I had work to do.
I saw a perfect spot next to their messy queen-sized bed - a tall bookshelf against the opposing wall, next to the window. I checked the books - they were covered in light coating of dust. The corner was very much out of mind. I opened my bag and went to work.
As I was finishing up I noticed something that might have been interesting - a photo album, on the bottom shelf. I pulled it out, brushed it off, sat on the bed and opened it. It was as I'd hoped - pictures of Ben in high school, back before the world was recording everything in digital form. He'd been quite the looker, if a little smoother and slightly rounded with baby fat than he was now, but just as athletic. I flipped through pages of him in bulky lacrosse gear, even a few of him shirtless and plastered at a garage party, which was nice. I stopped and studied a series of photos taken at some watering hole in the woods. There were plenty of kids there, but one kept showing up in almost each photo. He was a tall, broad kid I recognized from other photos of Ben's lacrosse team. He had a big grin and messy blond hair. There was more than one shot of Ben wrestling with him in the water, and one in particular...the two of them were standing at the top of the waterfall, young and proud. The bond guy was raising one fist into the air, whooping. Ben was very close to him, one hand a fist at his waist, and the other draped around the guy's shoulder. The way he was looking at him...
I closed the album and put it away. I'd spent too much time there. I slipped out the back, locked the door, and returned the key to the underside of the rosemary bush. I whistled softly as I walked through the front gate and made my way back to my van. Once behind its tinted windows I pulled my laptop out of the footlocker and turned it on. In a few short moments I had a clear image on its screen of Ben's bedroom, a perfect view of the bed and the open door of the bathroom beyond. The hidden camera, the motion sensors, and the programs that recorded whenever a person moved in front of them were things I used in various odd jobs for seedy people. This was the first time I was using them for myself, and I couldn't wait to see what results they would yield.
There was a brief nagging feeling at the back of my mind. Watching the video of this couple's home, this blatant incursion on their privacy. It made me feel strange, perhaps a little...guilty?
No. This was just another invasion of his private places, and not nearly as brutal an invasion as my cock had been. I had nothing to be ashamed of.
I left him alone the following weekend, let him stew in his worry while allowing my balls fill up with juice. I watched him and his wife through the camera lens for three nights in a row. He and his wife cuddled plenty, but they weren't having sex. Unfortunately for me, whatever masturbating he was doing was being done in the shower. Hey, don't judge. I didn't have any jobs to worry about at the time, and I think I was developing a serious crush, like the kind of thing a guy might feel for a fantastic hooker he saw regularly. So sue me. I'm not the best person, but I'm not the worst.
I was kind to him the following weekend. I waited until Saturday night, when his wife went out with a gaggle of her girlfriends. He stayed at home, working on a project in his living room. He answered immediately when I rang, but paused before speaking. "...yeah?"
"Got any plans for the evening?"
I heard him huff. "Fuck you, man. Not interested. I've been thinking, you know. If you really had any pictures off my phone, you probably would've shown them to me, yeah? How do I know you're not just one of Tammy's fucked up fairy friends, that she didn't get mouthy at the club one night and tell you - "
He stopped to check the text I'd just sent him. It was a rather incriminating image of Tammy's mouth around his hard cock. The pubes in the image were that telltale golden brown, the same color as that on his head. "What do you want me to do?" he asked flatly.
I told him where to meet me, told him to take a big shit and a shower, told him to be quick about it, all with a raging boner in my pants. He arrived on the side street near his house wearing a blue t-shirt and loose white linen shorts. The street lamps bounced off his glasses like liquid silver. The night wind whipped around him, pressing the thin fabric of his summer clothes against the rolling landscape of his body. I saw more to him now - a former high school jock, a meat head who had reformed himself into a hip graphic designer. He didn't walk like an artist, oh no. He had a conditioned confidence to his stride - chest out, shoulders thrown back, something one usually only saw in an athlete, a person who had been at the top of some social hierarchy in high school. He suddenly reminded me of all those nasty jocks I'd dealt with growing up, those clean-shaven gods who dangled their beauty in front of me unknowingly, tainting it with their cruelty. How wonderful it was that this particular one was under my control, already gaining a taste for my cock inside of him... Tonight would be quite enjoyable.
We drove into the city in silence. He was refusing to even look at me, as if he'd been hoping the entire ordeal in the barn had been a bad dream, as if maybe I was going to leave him be once I'd gotten my rocks off. No such luck, Benjamin.
"So I'm curious..." I began. He was leaning into the passenger door, looking out the window. I saw his head tilt slightly, listening. "How have you been feeling about our last...meeting?"
He snorted impolitely, posturing like only desperate males can. "I'm not interested in talking about feelings. If you want to fuck me, fuck me. We aren't going to be friends."
I patted his thigh, and he stiffened. "No need to be rude about it. Just trying to make conversation. But really, now...I want to know how you feel about it, and you should tell me. I don't want to think for a second that you're refusing to cooperate with me. We talked about that, didn't we?"
His head whipped around, mouth a snarl, ready to insult me in a fit of impotent rage. It faded almost immediately, though it smoldered under the surface, ever threatening to burn out of control if I fed the fire a hair too much. "Embarrassed," he said softly.
"What was that?"
"Fucking embarrassed." He crossed his arms, watched the taillights of the car in front of us. "I acted like a...like a complete bitch. I knew I was doing it, but that just turned me on. What the fuck does that say about me?" He frowned bitterly, shook his head. "I hate you. I fucking hate you." He went back to staring out the window, wordless and flustered. This was just fine.
It wasn't long before we'd arrived at a fine set of condos just north of downtown. They were very nice, very expensive, bathed in golden streetlight. Ben looked up at them with a vaguely impressed nod. "You live here? I wouldn't have guessed it."
I pulled my backpack over my shoulder and locked the van up. "Nope, sure don't. I don't live anywhere but here, remember?" I patted the side of my van. "This is another friend's place, a good friend." I patted his shoulder and crossed the street. He followed with his hands in his pockets. "I called in two favors in two weeks for your sweet butt," I said over my shoulder. "Take it as a compliment."
We bypassed the doorman and entered through the laundry facilities around the side. We climbed three flights of red-carpeted stairs to the top floor. I was a little winded by the end of it, but he, of course, wasn't. I kept my breathing even, not wanting him to notice. I don't think he would have either way - he was glancing around like a nervous deer, completely unsure of what was waiting for him here.
I unlocked the first door we came to and went inside. He followed cautiously, and I locked the door behind him, turned on the low orange lights. The condo was wide and open. The living room, kitchen, and dining room were combined into a single echoing chamber with tanned walls and dark hardwood floors. A dim hallway led to the bathroom and the bedroom. A long leather couch sat in front of a wide fireplace, a glass coffee table between them. On the walls and the end tables were curios and art pieces of a tribal nature, some west African jungle motif that I wasn't even sure was authentic. The better part of the condo was the massive set of windows that opened onto a small balcony, granting us a stunning view of the glowing cityscape.
He took it in, impressed. "You've got a pretty wide variety of friends, huh?" he asked.
"Shoes off," I said. He stepped out of his sandals and walked across the cool floor. I left my own shoes by the door and went into the kitchen. I produced a bottle of fine red wine from my backpack and popped it open, filled up two wine glasses. I took them and joined him next to the couch, where he was looking out the wide windows with his hands on his hips. "I hope you like red."
He glanced sideways at them, at me. He began to reach for one, but I stepped back. "Your shirt. Take it off first. It'll make you more comfortable, I think."
He gritted his teeth. "How's it supposed to make me feel more comfortable?"
I shrugged. "Maybe it won't. May as well get the ball rolling, though. It'll happen eventually, won't it?" I cocked my head. "It's not like I haven't seen it before, anyway."
He hesitated. I put the glasses of wine on the coffee table and pulled my own shirt over my head. As I brought it down and tossed it behind the couch I caught his eyes on me. So he was still into me. That was nice. Very nice. I couldn't help but feel flattered. "There. Now your turn. Only fair, right?"
He glanced at the wine and sighed. He took off his glasses and tossed them on the couch. He pulled his shirt off, and I whistled softly as his glorious body was exposed to me once more. It really was perfect, as far as I was concerned. Thick and adequately muscled, but curvy and soft where it needed to be. Mostly smooth, but lightly hairy where it needed to be. He tossed the shirt away, put his glasses back on. His linen shorts sagged below his belly, accentuating the luscious curve of his hips. He opened his hands as if to say happy now? I was, very much so.
I handed him his wine and took my own, and we sat on the couch. It couldn't have been much more awkward. He was sucking down the wine too quickly, obviously brimming with questions, with bitterness, with...well, to be honest, much of what he was feeling was an enigma to me, and I liked it that way. All that truly mattered was that he was choosing to set his feelings aside, that he was willing to let me do what I liked despite any reservations he might have, and all because of a few collections of pixels. Though, the longer I watched him, and the more I thought about how easy it had been to get him into bed...and how thoroughly he'd enjoyed being fucked...it was as obvious as it had ever been that he was loving all of this on some level, carnal or otherwise.
He raised his empty glass. "I need another, I think." I got the bottle from the kitchen, filled his cup again. "First whiskey in a barn, and now wine in a fancy condo." He took a long sip. "Did you plan it that way?"
I finished my own glass too quickly and poured the rest of the bottle into it. I was already feeling hot and tipsy, which was fine. Why didn't I have a boner yet? Why did I feel so awkward, like this was some sort of date? This man was nothing but a fuck hole. "Definitely not, no. Like you said, I have a wide variety of friends, that's all. I take the favors as they come."
"Why are you doing this?" he asked abruptly.
I looked over at him. The wine had loosened him up substantially. He was reclined across his half of the couch, one leg resting on a knee, both hands holding the wine glass in front of his long, bare torso, spinning it absently in lopsided circles as the red liquid dipped back and forth. I shrugged. "I...I saw you that day at the parking garage, you know. When you dropped your phone." I formed my words carefully, deliberately, afraid of saying the wrong thing. "I even thought about flagging you down to return it, but...you've seen yourself in the mirror, right? I guess I just got...infatuated." I grinned in a way I knew was disarming. "I had to see if there was a chance...any chance. It was...kind of thrilling."
"So you waited all those hours just to maybe lure me into your van?" He laughed, with no small amount of scorn. "That is so creepy. You really are a fucked up individual. You know that?"
I said nothing. His words stung, but I didn't let it show. I knew just how fucked up an individual I was. I knew what I was doing was terrible - but I'd done it before. I'd even had it done to me more than once, though that wasn't something I'd ever tell him. "Yeah, well, you're just ridiculously hot. That's all. I had to try. Maybe it's the only way I know how to come onto a guy, I don't know..." I turned to him, ravaged his half-naked body with my eyes, let him see it. "It worked, and that's all I care about. It's not like I raped you. I was nice to you, wasn't I? You liked it, didn't you?"
There was a long silence. Something had softened in his expression. He was looking me over now, sipping his wine much more slowly as he enjoyed his buzz. "Your hair got longer," he said, changing the subject.
I ran my fingers over the thick stubble on my scalp. "Yeah, haven't had a chance to shave it."
Ben shrugged, drank more wine. "It's not a bad thing. You've still got plenty of hairline. It suits you. It makes you look...younger."
I sniffed at that. "I'm only thirty-three, you know."
He raised his eyebrows. "Alright. It makes you look thirty-two, then."
I reached over the rim of his glass and stroked the shallow valley between his pecs. I liked the feel of his light fur there, the radiant warmth of his body heat that pulsed with the beat of his heart. He watched me as I fondled him, his expression giving nothing away. I took my hand back. "Sorry. Guess I'm getting a little impatient."
He shrugged, sneered. That moment of softness he'd let slip was gone in an instant, replaced by the acidic, outraged version of himself that he'd been presenting all night. "Well, by all means, let's get this over with. The night's not getting any younger." I got up and pulled the handcuffs from my backpack. "Ugh, this bullshit again?" He rolled his eyes, glared at the cuffs. "You can't get off unless I'm tied up, huh? Afraid I'll finally get fed up and kick your faggot ass?" He smirked. The wine was making him cocky.
I jingled the cuffs above his head. "You're kind of pissing me off with that mouth of yours."
He feigned fear, put his hands up as if to fend of an attacker. "Oh no, what are you going to do? Fuck me?" He practically spit. "Oh yeah - you were going to do that anyway. You've already done it, even. So what? What could possibly be worse?"
I didn't let his childish antics derail me. "This is what I want. It's going to happen. Just skip past all this whining you're doing and put your hands behind your back. Be a man."
He sighed belligerently, finished his wine, and set the glass on the coffee table. He stood up, turned around, and crossed his wrists over the small of his back. I latched the cuffs over his wrists, and he was mine again. The sight of this tall, buxom man standing there in nothing but his white linen shorts made me as hard as I'd ever been. The ripple of his back as those ropes of muscle bulged against each other between the hills of his shoulders, the perky mounds of ass beneath his bound wrists...
"Stay like that. Just like that." I ran my hands up his muscly arms and massaged his broad shoulders. His skin was quite warm, almost hot, and his body was very, very tense. I felt around his chest, down the front of his torso. I grabbed one of his tits, stuck my finger in his naval, and grunted with pleasure. He grunted as well, his body relaxing as my hands enjoyed it. "You like that, you pervert?" he snarled.
I grabbed his crotch, made him gasp. It was hot and hard under his loose shorts. "About as much as you like it," I said. That shut him up.
I threaded my arms under each of his bent elbows and around the front of his waist. My bare chest rubbed against his back, and I reveled in the thrill of skin on skin. I undid the button of his shorts and invaded the exceedingly warm space between them and his crotch. To my surprise and delight, he wasn't wearing any underwear. "Nice intuition," I whispered into his ear. "I love having such easy access to my toys." He only stood there silently - but his body was shivering a little as I cupped his hot balls, grasped his hard cock, massaged his furry groin.
I pressed my own crotch into his ass through the thin fabric of his shorts, ground on it unabashedly while I molested him. "Remember what that felt like, stud?"
He only grunted, but I could tell his body was aching for it. There was already the telltale touch of precum on my palm.
I pushed his shorts down to the middle of his thighs, taking the opportunity to feel up those meaty trunks of muscle as well. This exposed his bare ass to my grinding crotch. My cock was huge and hard, and I knew he could feel it rubbing against his ass through my jeans.
I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled my cock out. I pushed it into the cleft of his ass. He stiffened, expecting me to go further - but I didn't. I merely spread his cheeks and rubbed the head of my cock on the rim of his warm, tight hole. "That thing's just as pretty as I remembered it." I spit on my finger and rubbed his hole, pushed into it a little bit. It gave way begrudgingly, but only slightly. He hissed and clenched his cheeks.
I pushed my jeans down and stepped out of them. I went to the couch and sat down, lay back with my legs open. My cock was huge and hard, pointing straight at the ceiling through the slit in my boxers. He looked at it, at me, waiting for direction. "Come on down." I patted my crotch and tapped the floor in front of me with my bare foot. "I don't think I've yet had the pleasure of your lips around my cock."
This took him by surprise, and it showed. His blue eyes widened behind his glasses, and his mouth hung open. "Hey man, I don't think..."
"That's right, you don't. You only do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Remember?" He nodded mutely. "Besides, I bet you remember my own mouth doing all sorts of awesome things for you below the belt, no? Just think of it as returning the favor." I grinned at him. "And don't worry - I'll have that ass of yours filled up before the night's over. This is just...a little fun beforehand. You might even like it, if you let yourself"
He fumbled awkwardly as he lowered himself to his knees in front of me. His cuffed wrists made for a bumbling lack of balance that titillated and aroused me further, an involuntary display of vulnerability. Once he was in position between my knees he looked over my cock and licked his lips, unsure of himself. "Just put your lips around it. You know what a blowjob is supposed to feel like, yes?" He nodded. "All you have to do is make me feel like you feel whenever you get one. Think that's doable? Or are you gonna pussy out on me?"
His eyes fired up again. "It's doable. Sure." He lowered his head to my dick. I felt his hot breath there, then the scratchy roughness of his stubble on my nut sack, then his hot mouth closing around my cock.
"That's right..." He took the head of my cock in his mouth, licked at it with his tongue while his lips tightened around my shaft. Good lord, he was a natural. His hot, wet mouth explored my sex haltingly as he breathed heavily through his nose. His eyes were clenched shut, but he was eager enough.
I ran my hands through his hair, grabbed a handful of it, urged him to bob his maw on my dick. He gagged as the head of my cock hit the back of his throat, but I wouldn't let him pull away. The sensation was too delicious, hot and wet and soft as silk. I pushed my cock as far as it would go, and he really did gag then. My cock popped out of his mouth wetly, a string of spit and precum stretching between it and his lips as he coughed. "Fuck, man!" he cried. "I can't fucking deep throat you on my first try!"
I nudged it against his lips as he glared at me with red, leaking eyes. "You can try, though. Right?"
His eyes were on fire. "Yeah. Sure." I pushed it into his mouth, and he went down on me with gusto, almost hatefully. I leaned forward, gagging him again as I pushed my cock deeper into his throat. His nose was pressed into my boxers, giving him a good whiff of my crotch. I pushed my hands down the slope of his back. His ass was down there, spread just slightly under his cuffed hands, teasing me. I pushed my finger into the valley of it, found his hot hole pulsing against it as he did his best to work my cock without throwing up. I spit onto the small of his back, watched it slide over his skin and into his ass crack. I rubbed it over his hole with my fingers. I pulled his ass cheek back with one hand and pushed into his hole again with the other, up to the first knuckle. A heavy, muffled groan enveloped my cock with hot breath and vibration as I lightly finger-fucked him. I spit again, and again, and now I was up to the second knuckle. He'd let my cock slide out of his mouth, but he was still doing his best to nibble on it between gasps. Playing with his ass was like pressing a button, a pretty pink button that deleted the brazen little shit he'd been earlier and replaced it with this wanton cock slut. I nearly laughed.
I pulled my fingers out and slapped his bare ass. "You're pretty good at that!" I pushed him away from my crotch and pulled him to his feet. His face was red and streaked with tears from all the gagging he'd been doing. His glasses were crooked on his face, and he looked dazed. I took them off and put them on the coffee table, taking note of his dick. It was hard and thick and leaking above the tangled white mess of his shorts. I knelt and pushed his shorts down to his ankles, nibbling and licking along the slope of his stomach and the curve of his hips. This brought him out of his stupor with a jerk, legs planted firmly apart, body twitching as I teased it.
I yanked on his cock to make him step out of his shorts. He was now fully nude, cuffed and panting. Again I felt the urge to attack him outright, force him onto the floor and take what I wanted without any regard for his pleasure. I wanted to bite his nipples, slap his face, choke him a little, taste his blood. But again, something stopped me. This one was too special for that sort of treatment - far too special, whatever that meant. I went to him and pushed his pecs together like tits, thumbed his nipples as I watched him bite his lip. He met my gaze as I did so, and his glare faded as I fondled him.
I grabbed his wrists where they were cuffed and pushed him over the couch face first. He planted his knees on the cushions, draped the front of his torso over the back of the couch as I directed. I spread his legs, and this opened his ass to the air. It was just as fuckable as I remembered it, pale cheeks smooth and firm, the valley of it tinged with golden-brown hair, a supple pink hole in the middle. I bent down and shoved my face into it greedily, spitting and tonguing and gorging myself until he was moaning throatily. His hole loosened and tightened in pulses, unsure of whether to open itself to the intruder, or put up the defenses. It was leaking spit before long, wet and open.
I got to my feet and grabbed his wrists again, held him steady as I deliberately pushed my cock into his hole. It gave way mainly because I had given him no warning. I'd only gotten the head of it inside him before his sphincter tightened up around it, squeezing it mightily and making me groan with pleasure.
He bucked and cursed, but I held onto his wrists, kept him off balance and under control. "Fuck man! I thought I told you to fucking warn me?!? You piece of shit!"
I squeezed his ass. "Sorry, must have forgotten. Still..." I tightened my grip on his wrists, pushed his reddening face into the couch cushions. "I don't really need any permission from you, do I? Nah, and I don't need any of that lip either." I moved my hips ever so slightly. I didn't push into him much further, but he felt it. I could tell. I grabbed his hair and held him down. "I could just take you right here, couldn't I? Fuck you dry, make you beg me to stop. I've seen it done. It's not pretty."
"Fuck you, man..."
I pulled his hair. "I'd be easy. I could do it. Couldn't I?"
"Yes!" he shouted. Then, softer: "Yeah, you could. You can do anything you want. Is that what you want to hear?" His voice was shaking, ready to crack. "I'll...I'll be nicer, okay? I'm...I'm sorry."
He was shivering in my grip. I left his hair alone and felt beneath his bent hips. His cock was still hard, still leaking. What a kinky bastard! "Good boy."
I let the muscles of his sphincter pop my cock out of him. I pulled him to his feet, where he stumbled before righting himself. I produced another toy from my backpack - a simple leather collar, the perfect size for his neck. I clamped it around his throat without asking, and his eyes widened. "What - what is this?" It looked very nice over his fair, golden skin, with his thick stubble above it.
"Relax." I attached a long leather leash to the collar, gave it a light tug to make sure it was secure. "It won't get any tighter than that, okay?" I grinned, not sure if I was telling the truth.
"Whatever you say," he said softly, thoroughly cowed.
"Come on. I don't' think you've seen the bedroom yet." I led him by the leash down the narrow hall and into the back bedroom, a windowless room that smelled slightly of mothballs. It was large with dark walls, lit by dim golden lamps. In the center was a huge king-sized bed that dominated the floor, covered in gold and brown comforters and a pile of fine pillows. The best thing about the room, however, were the mirrors. The bed had no headboard, only a monstrous mirror. Each wall had a huge mirror on it. Even the ceiling was covered in reflective glass. Whatever happened on that bed would be seen by both of us from all angles, repeated into infinity.
"Jesus Christ," Ben breathed. "Your friend is a freak."
"Yeah...he's got a wild side." The condo belonged to an old bachelor with a mansion outside the city. He only used this apartment to impress expensive prostitutes. Which was almost what was happening now.
I grabbed the back of Ben's neck and took him to the bed. I turned him around and shoved him onto his back. He bounced on the comforters, long legs flailing. He was looking around in all directions, seeing himself laid naked and prostrate from eight different angles. I grabbed one of the pillows above his head and tapped his hip. "Raise your ass in the air." He did so awkwardly, his hard cock bobbing above his arced torso as his legs and his back strained. I put the pillow under his ass and pushed him down, let him relax. His stomach was curved upward, his hips raised lewdly above the rest of him by the huge pillow under his rear. His knees were bent, thighs spread, and all the while his hard cock hovered between them in a bed of bushy golden-brown brown hair, begging for attention.
I pulled off my shirt and dropped my boxers around my ankles. He watched me move between his thighs, his hard cock rising and falling between our faces. I bent to him, grabbed his balls in one hand. They bulged as I squeezed the base of his sack, and he yelped. I ran my tongue over the velvety skin of his scrotum, took both of his balls into my mouth. My tongue did laps around them while he jerked and moaned. My other hand kneaded his taint, thumb getting closer to his hole with each massage until it was poking into the valley of it.
I glanced at him. He looked amazing, groaning and twisting slightly as I attacked his loins with my fingers and my tongue. His face was red and blushing above the black collar. His eyes were watching the mirrored ceiling.
I looked up. He was such a fine sight, prone with his hands bound behind his back, spread-eagled in all his glory, every intimate inch of him exposed in the golden lamplight. His crotch was covered by my head. My long, pale back was draped between his large thighs while I did my work. I watched his face in the mirror as I ran my hands up his body and cupped his bulging pecs, tweaked his nipples mercilessly. His face crumpled, and he shrieked before he could stop himself. I filed every second of it away to memory.
I put my hands behind his knees and pushed his legs back, exposed his ass. It wasn't pink anymore after my earlier intrusion but a bright, supple red. I spit into it generously before lapping at it with my tongue. He tasted of salt and thick musk, sweet sweat and sour man stench. His sphincter pulsed and pushed out immediately, remembering what my probing tongue could do to it. He huffed and stiffened above me, but his cock was thick and hard. I pushed my whole face into his ass, smelled deeply of his hanging balls. I devoured his hole with relish, tasted every inch, every edge, made him moan in a high voice, like a chick getting her pussy eaten. Before long he'd opened up like a flower, and I pushed a lubed up finger into him. He gasped in surprise and wriggled like a worm on a hook. I pushed as much lube into his chute as I could, going about my business without care for his nerve endings - though of course, being the hungry bottom that he was, Ben was groaning and arching his back as I did so.
"Fuck...fuck," he gasped as I widened him out. "I thought it'd be easier this time."
I pulled at his hole, made him squeal under his breath. "Nah, it always hurts at first. It's just the price you've got to pay to have the best orgasm of your life." It was only half a lie. He'd learn to relish this pain, to perceive it as its own sort of pleasure. In the meantime, I wouldn't have to worry about him complaining over every little poke and prod.
I stood up and nudged his wet hole with the head of my cock. "You ready?"
"No..." But he was. I held his legs still and pushed into him slowly, steadily, firmly. The intense warmth of his ass enveloped my cock in short order, and even with the lube it was still as tight as it had been when he was a virgin. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, grunting with pain. I watched his dick go slightly soft, but I didn't care. There would be plenty of time for his pleasure later. This moment was all about my own cock.
His legs spasmed a bit as I fully impaled him, toes curling tightly. I settled inside of him, sighed with pleasure. My cock had gone deep enough into him that there wasn't even any lube, only the ridiculously hot cradle of his heavenly ass. "Hunngh," he complained. "Ugh, fuck, fuuuck..." His cock was only half-hard now, flopping across his clenching belly. I smiled and pulled out a bit, then pushed into him again. He gasped and strained, asshole clamping around me, and I loved it. It was almost as good as the first time.
I took hold of his softening cock and began to stroke it, thumbing the underside of his shaft. He didn't seem to notice. I buried myself in him again, felt him clench, listened to him squeal. "You've got a great body," I told him. "How'd you get into such nice shape?"
He exhaled with a whimper before he could answer, more than a little distracted by the sharp pain of my rod penetrating his rear end. "I - huwaaah, lacrosse, in high school, and - houuugh, and college. I agh, ugh, still run..."
I nodded knowingly, appreciating his form with my fingers, stroking his shaft while my other hand rubbed his chest, his belly. "It shows. I worked on a farm myself, until I was fifteen. I still work out - some - but mostly I just stay active, hike a lot..." He was barely paying attention, eyes shut, mouth open and turned downward in a silent moan. His ass was pulsing wetly around my slowly thrusting cock, remembering how to take a fucking. The more attention I paid to his body, the harder his cock got in my hand. All that said, his hole was still as tight as ever. His face was red, lips pursed, brow furrowed. As much as I enjoyed his pain, I knew it shouldn't last forever.
I pinched his nipples, and he jolted out of his stupor, blue eyes bright and clear. "You need to relax," I told him as I thumbed his hard, pink nipple. "I know you were pretty plastered last time, but you figured it out then. Remember?" I kept my slow, deliberate pace inside of him, loving the pressure of his tight chute, enjoying that particular sensation while I could. "Just push out when I push in. Try it."
I pulled my cock out of him, left his cunt red, wet, and inflamed. I doused my shaft with more lube and pushed some inside of him. I could tell from the pulsing of his hole that he was trying to follow my instructions. "Nah...push out. This is why I had you take that shit earlier, so feel free to let yourself go, okay?" I put two fingers into him. I felt his insides loosen, collapse, and then swell as he pushed them to meet my probing fingers. "There you go..."
I pulled my digits from him and pushed his ass cheeks aside. His hole was slightly looser, glistening inside the ring of wet, matted fur. His cock was hard between his raised legs, and he was staring at his reflection in the ceiling again. His mouth was a thin, determined line. "Push out for me." His hole opened up, widened on its own as I watched intently. "That's it. That's right. Now keep it that way for a second..." I held his legs and pushed my cock into him again. It felt just as tight, but it was somehow easier. "Have you always liked guys? I asked him, thumbing his hard nipples and rubbing my fingers into the sweaty cleft of his arm pits.
"Nah...not really, I guess..."
I waited for an opening and thrust into him, made him cry out lustily and spasm around my cock. "Could have fooled me," I said. I played with the leash, and his eyes followed it wearily. "You sure about that? Never even had one little crush on a guy? A natural bottom like you doesn't just happen overnight, you know." He looked away, embarrassed and flushed, and I couldn't help pushing a few more pained squeaks from him with my hungry cock. "You can tell me, you know. It won't leave this room. Scout's honor."
"Randy," he all but whispered.
"Randy, huh? Sounds like a boy next door." I licked my finger and pushed it into his stretched navel, got it slick. "Was he on your lacrosse team?"
His eyes seemed to mist over, remembering. "Yeah...in high school. He was...he was really nice to me. He made me feel...special. He really saw me, who I really was, and he didn't care. He liked me, and I liked him. I was glad we were friends."
"Did you two ever...?" I began to fuck him a little harder. His ass was starting to loosen up to it.
"No - hhhaaaaah, easy - no. Never even talked about it, but I think he knew..."
"Couldn't let any of your friends find out, huh? God forbid anyone figure out you liked cock, a big proud jock like you." I slapped the broad expanse of taut flesh where his ass met his thigh. "Well look at you now, bitch." I grinned at him, and he shut his eyes. "What would you have done to him, huh? If you could have. If he'd let you." I grabbed his meaty thighs in both hands and rammed into him lazily. "Tell me. It'll be hot. Would you have ripped off his dirty little jock strap and fucked his bubble butt?" I was really turned on, almost losing myself in the nexus of slippery flesh where my cock was throbbing against the heaving walls of his man cunt.
I didn't think he could blush any deeper, but he did. It had spread to his shoulders, his chest. "No..." he breathed. "I..."
"You would have let him fuck you." I admit I was jealous old Randy for a second. I leaned into Ben and began to rail on his ass, my hips smacking against his glorious gluts. He moaned deeply, squinting in pain, watching my body thrust into his open form in the mirror above our heads. "Just imagine he's the one fucking you now, if that helps." I leaned in and bit his ear a little. "Does it help?"
His back arched, and he cried out as my pace increased. "Yes," he gasped, eyes clenched shut.
I pulled out completely, watched his hole pucker and pulse, then began to push my cock back into him. He hissed - tightened a bit for just a millisecond - and then his hole let me slide right in, as if my cock had been living there its whole life. He arched his back and let out a deep, vocal groan as my pubes raked against his smooth ass cheeks. "Oooohhh my god, fuuuuuck..."
I grinned and grabbed his cock. It was hard as a rock. "There you go! Perfect. That was perfect. You feel so good..."
Even with the lube and his newly learned skill set, my cock was certainly making its presence known. He was sweating slightly, eyes shut, concentrating fully on remaining loose for me, no doubt imagining Randy's young cock ravaging him rather than my own. I held his hips in place and began to fuck him again, more than a little bit harder than before. He shivered, gasping under his breath. His hole felt amazing, pulsing with barely contained power, ready to constrict completely at any moment. I changed pace, wove my hips in a circle, stirring the ravaged meat of his man cunt with my long, stiff rod.
I looked down at him. He groaned, eyes opening slightly to watch my sinewy torso flex while I worked. The specter of old Randy was gone now. It was my cock inside of him, and he was accepting it. It was me pulling these delicious sounds from his lips, and it seemed like he was even enjoying making them. I held his jaw, grabbed the collar around his neck...found the leather leash attached to it.
I pulled the leash tight and really picked up the pace. His eyes widened, and his moan was cut short by the pressure of the collar on his throat. I stroked his cock - he was still quite hard. "You like that?" I asked him, letting up on the leash for a moment.
He coughed, a look of utter apprehension on his face. "I...I don't know..."
"I'll take that as a yes for now." I pulled the leash tight again, stabbed into him. He gasped, red-faced and heaving while I drilled him and choked him just enough to be interesting. I took his cock in hand and began to jerk him off, slowly at first, then fast enough to be dangerous. He squirmed on the end of my cock. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna..." I felt his sex lurch in my hand and I stopped, pinched the head of his cock just hard enough. His spine stiffened as he shuttered, mouth open in a silent bellow - and he didn't come. "Ohhhh god damn it, god-fucking-damn you..."
I winked at him, kept fucking him. "Man, I'm glad that worked out! Never tried that before."
He fumed at me hotly, mouth open as he panted. His cock was huge, leaking and engorged and ready to pop, ricocheting of his inner thighs in time with my pounding. I wouldn't be able to touch it for a while, and I was very glad he was in handcuffs.
I pulled out. "Flip yourself over. I want your ass in the air." He wriggled and squirmed to turn himself over, and I did nothing to help him. I enjoyed watching his thick body work from every angle the mirrors provided, muscles like living creatures under his lightly fuzzed skin. Before long he was bent over on his knees, his chest on the bed, his used ass high in the air.
I went to him and slapped his ass cheek as hard as I could. The entire thing rippled under the force, and even the sound of it stung. I watched his hole clench tightly with the rest of his body. He shrieked in surprise, nearly fell off the bed. "What'd you do that for?!?"
I rubbed his ass. It was already getting quite red. "Do you even have to ask?" I put the pillow he'd been laying on under his chest, raising his upper half a little and allowing him to look around. I went to the head of the bed and knocked off all the pillows. There was no headboard, only the mirrored wall. I wanted him see everything, and I wanted to watch his face while it happened. He was looking at himself even now, restrained with his ass in the air like some breeding sow, a sex slave bought and paid for, blushing deeply and frowning like a child.
I climbed onto the bed and got on my knees behind him, holding his strong hips for support. I nudged his tight ass with my cock, and he loosened up for me without being told to. I impaled him completely with one thrust, and he wailed in the most manly way he knew how. His eyes were shut, but the wanton shape of his mouth told me everything. "You're getting good at this," I told him. He didn't answer.
I pumped once, twice, and then I was fucking him hard again. I savored the wet slaps of my hips on his ass, the impotent groans coming from his open mouth, the hot, slippery mess of his asshole. My balls were smashing into his, invoking a dull ache that I was sure he shared. I reared back and slapped his ass again. His entire chute clenched around my cock deliciously, and he squealed again. "Fuck, man!" I ignored him and slapped the other cheek, forcing him to milk my cock reflexively. He growled throatily and bucked against me almost spitefully, and I groaned with pleasure at this new, intense, momentary tightness. He was a giant toy for me to play with, utterly at my mercy - and the mercy of his own reflexes.
I grabbed his bound wrists and fucked him hard, took the leash in my other hand and pulled back. I heard his grunts dissolve into a faint choke, watched his eyes squint and get watery. "Look up," I told him. "I want you to watch." He did. He got a full view of me riding him like a horse, his sweaty form gasping at the end of the leash like the beast of burden he was. I slapped his ass again and he mewled like a victim, red-faced and straining, so far from the confident jock of yesteryear. I shuttered as his hole constricted around my thrusting cock. Everything between the leash and my pummeling dick was twisting and squirming, sweating and straining, a wondrous landscape of monopolized man meat. "God, Benjamin...you're such a class-A fuck. There are people who'd pay more than what you make in a year to do just what I'm doing right now..." I dropped the leash and squeezed his ass cheeks in both hands, loving the inflamed redness of them. I pulled them apart and watched my cock disappear into his pliant hole again and again, the tender flesh of it stretching and retracting like putty. Before long my grunts of effort and ecstasy were joined by his, and I reveled in our carnal joining.
I looked at him in the mirror. He was watching it all through squinting eyes, grimacing but groaning like a bitch. His hands were clenching and unclenching with my thrusts, helpless in the cuffs. I could feel the swinging vibrations of his huge, hard cock being tossed around under his hips, pulling at the flesh of his groin, his ass. He was really enjoying himself, though of course he wasn't going to say so outright.
I tapped his rump and let up on the fucking. "Here. You might like this even better." I pulled the leash until he was upright on his knees, stunned and listless, his hair disheveled in such a way as to make me swoon inwardly. I pulled out and circled him on the bed. I put the pillow under my head and lay on my back next to him. My cock was a monstrous exclamation point between my legs. I tapped his thigh. "Hop on. I rode you, now you can ride me. Fair's fair." He looked me over, his mind reforming behind his eyes. I could tell this new position intrigued him, the thought of having more control over the rhythm of his fucking. He lifted one sweaty thigh over my torso and straddled my lap, his hard cock and floppy balls dangling over my stomach. My own cock was soon between his ass cheeks again, my thighs supporting his back as he settled between them. I tossed the leash over his shoulder and ran my hands up his thick thighs and his open hips, thumbed his navel. "Lift yourself up a second." I reached under him and guided my cock home, the tip of it sliding in easily. "Now...sit on it."
He bit his lip and lowered himself onto my cock. He was loose enough, and already tenderized. He'd impaled himself in less than a second. He took a deep, shaky breath, and sighed heavily. I licked my lips. My hands kept up their patrol of his body, so close, so defenseless, so exposed. He quivered at the end of my cock as my hips gyrated lazily underneath him, worming my shaft deeper into his bowels. "Go on," I told him.
He looked down at me. "What...?"
I slapped his flank. "Fuck yourself. Ride it." He blushed again, not meeting my eyes. "You'll get the hang of it," I told him. "Just fuck yourself...like you want to be fucked. Use my cock."
This seemed to interest him. "You're a kinky dude." His hips began to pump slowly, cautiously. A perfect pearl of precum sat on the head of his cock as it weaved with his awkward motions, and it was all I could do not to squeeze it dry. He hissed as gravity allowed my dick to find new and previously unexplored regions of his nethers, but he kept these sensations at bay by lifting himself on his thighs whenever I went too deep. I kept my own ass and thighs tight, kept my cock on an even plane, and held onto his hips. Every now and then I'd meet one of his thrusts with one of my own, and he would gasp and whimper at the unexpected attack on his prostate. His drooling cock was hard and bobbing the whole time, now dripping precum onto my stomach, where it mingled with my sweat. "Keep going," I encouraged him. "You're doing fucking great."
I watched his muscles flex in the mirrored wall behind him, the hills of his shoulders and back so wide and round between my knees. I watched his long flanks strain as he fucked himself, pure sex from knee to armpit in the mirrors on either side. He'd found his rhythm, and it was picking up pace. I met his pace with my own. As his body crashed down, mine thrust upward, the fleshy force of both meeting at his prostate. He was yelping and groaning, totally in heat, his meaty body bouncing up and down on my cock. I grabbed the leash and held it tight, as much to keep him from falling of the bed as anything else. His back arched, and he was outright bucking like a seasoned power bottom. "Unngh, fuck yeah, fuck yes, that feels so fucking amazing...!" There was no filter on him anymore, none at all.
"Tell me about it, you fine slut." I pushed my thumb into his happy trail, that long, stretched plane of flesh between his navel and his pubic hair, pinning his prostate between the muscles of his diaphragm and my penetrating cock. He wailed loudly, beside himself, his hips pumping of their own volition while I kneaded him into submission. There wasn't a need for the handcuffs any longer.
I slowed my pace, reached behind him. "You feel like getting out of these things?"
His eyes came back into focus, and he looked confused. "What?"
I jerked on the handcuffs. "Want out of these?"
He kept his lower half moving, wanting to keep the sensation going. He shook his head. "Nah, it'd take too long. The key's in the other room..."
I undid the cuffs, and they popped off easily. His hips slowed to a stop. He rubbed his freed wrists as I tossed the cuffs aside and resumed feeling him up. "How'd you do that without a key?" he asked, dumbfounded.
I twisted his nipples a little, and he gasped. "Trick handcuffs. Like a magician uses. All you have to do is undo the latch."
The dazed confusion quickly gave way to anger. "Bastard!" he cried. He shoved me into the bed. I laughed and stabbed up into him. He arced his back and bellowed, but his eyes were still burning into me. "Fucking liar! The whole fucking time? Even at the barn?"
I ran my hands up his belly and across his chest. "The whole fucking time."
He shivered as I pushed his hips down into my crotch and started fucking him again. "No, goddamn it!" He lurched forward and pushed me into the bed, bringing his considerable strength to bare. I was suddenly very much aware that this man could overpower me at the drop of a hat, that my defenses were mostly abstract - mostly.
I grabbed the leash and yanked. Hard. He reared back, choking and clawing at the collar. "Calm down!" I roared. His cock was softening slightly, and panic rippled across his reddening face - but he wasn't coming after me anymore, so that was fine. "You're damned lucky, you know that?" I let up on the leash a little, and he gasped in a lungful of air before I tightened it again. I pinched his nipple hard, and he bucked against me. "You could have gotten it so much worse. I know guys who would get you in bed the same way I did, but they'd just tear your ass apart. They'd use you and break you and beat you to a pulp if you even thought about getting a stiffy." I seized his cock, and it hardened in my grip. Even choking and abused, naked and at my mercy, he was turned on. "Then they'd cut you open and let you bleed out. They're the real bastards, those guys. All I did was mess with your head, and...I guess I'm..."
That odd feeling again, troublesome and unwanted. I looked up at him as the pressure on the leash loosened. He was breathing evenly and shallowly, one hand at the collar around his neck and the other on my forearm. The anger was gone, and he was looking down at me with some wordless question in his eyes. Why was I feeling anything other than lust for this tool, however special his body and his mindset might be?
I let go of the leash. I reached up and undid the clasp, let the collar fall away. "I just want to make you forget your own name, that's all. I just want to make you feel...pretty." I massaged his pecs, his stomach, his cock. My own cock was still hard inside him, and his hole was quickly loosening.
He caught his breath, wheezing and huffing as he found his lungs again. The look on his face...he was still angry, still humiliated, but his mouth was half open, and his huffing was transforming into the low groans of sardonic pleasure he'd been making before. His cock was still hard.
To my surprise, his hands closed around mine as I ran them over his body. They guided me to his nipples, his naval, his hips, the top of his ass, the small of his back. He was quivering with pleasure, his eyes on mine. "You're still a sick fucking bastard," he breathed, and I rolled my hips up into him, made him grunt. "You know that, right?"
"I've always known that."
"Kinky piece of shit." His hands left mine and ran over my own body, grabbed my nipples and twisted. I hissed at the sudden pain, and he grinned. It was strange, seeing him smile so genuinely. It was the first time it had really happened since we'd started...whatever it was that I was doing to him.
I held his hips, elbows at his knees, and started fucking him hard again. His grin turned into furrowed concentration, and his transitory cockiness melted away into low snarls of pleasure. It was such a manly sound compared to the high pitched wails he'd let loose in the barn, and I enjoyed it very much. He reached behind himself, straining on his thighs, and pulled his ass cheeks apart. I took the cue and punched into him as deep as I could. He pushed his lower half into the assault with eager gusto, groaning wildly. His cock was practically pumping precum onto me, almost purple at the tip.
"Put your arms up and flex for me," I ordered. He did so without a thought, smirking, watching me watching him. "That's right. Now - grab my ankle and leave the other arm up. Lick your pit while I fuck you. Smell it, yeah. I love how your pits smell. Get a good whiff. It's like aged scotch." All the while I watched him pose for me in the mirrors, his rippling back, his sweaty torso, his handsome face - it was quite a show.
"You think I'm pretty, huh?" he asked between moans, tweaking his own nipples as I'd told him to, shoulders shaking as I drilled him from below.
"Finest thing I've seen," I said truthfully, reveling in the warmth of the blush those words produced. His pain and humiliation were sweet things, but this was sweeter still.
Before we'd finished I had him on his back again with his legs in the air, balls deep in his ass. I was really hitting him hard, right in his sweet spot, and he was barely holding himself together. It was actually pretty nice having his hands free. The feeling of his thick arms wrapped around my back was stimulating, and his hands were holding on to all parts of me for dear life. The sounds I was pulling out of him...
I pushed his legs back and leaned into him, drove it home as fast and as hard as I could. He wailed, and both of his hands slapped each side of my pummeling ass quite hard - though I was so intent on seeding him I barely felt it. I roared as I came, filled him up to the brim with hot juice. At no point did I stop fucking him, and it was just as well. When I pulled away to finish him off with a hand job, I found that he'd already climaxed, chest and belly drenched with a bucket of creamy cum. He flushed sheepishly, chest heaving with one hand on his hip. I reached down and squeezed the last bits of jizz from his sensitive cock, made him shiver and bat my hand away. "That's impressive," I said as I pulled out. "You managed to come just from getting fucked. Never seen it firsthand."
He remained on the bed, basking in the afterglow, staring at himself in the mirrored ceiling, or maybe staring at nothing in particular. "So...who's impressive again?" he asked.
I went about picking up the scattered pillows. "Both of us," I said.
I left him to unwind on the bed while I showered off. By the time I got out, whatever warmth he'd gained from our fuck session had dissipated, and he was back to his old cold self. I sent him to the shower and cleaned up the apartment as best I could. I knew my friend would have a maid service over here before he even thought about using it again, so I didn't fret.
Ben emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel, a lovely sight, shiny and clean. He began searching the living room for his discarded clothes. "I folded them," I said. "They're stacked on the counter." He nodded curtly and grabbed them. He glanced back toward the bathroom, thought for a moment. He then dropped his towel and got dressed in front of me, and I can't say I minded too much.
He wasn't very talkative until we were already halfway back to his place. "That was a really dickish thing for you to do, you know," he said as he watched the city pass outside the passenger window.
"What's that? The handcuffs?"
"The handcuffs." He glared at me. "I think this whole thing is beyond fucked up, and I don't like being blackmailed...but that weird mind game stuff? I thought I was...uncomfortable before, but that... Just don't fucking lie to me, okay? I already feel like enough of an idiot as it is." The words spilled out of him like tumbling mud, an admission of vulnerability more than the stern rebuke he'd intended.
I suppressed a smile. "Alright, I admit it. It was incredibly dickish. I was just having a little fun."
"You were just fucking with my head."
I shrugged. "Well...it looked like you enjoyed the end result. Am I right about that? I mean...at the end there..." I ran my hand over his thigh. "I can't remember having a better fuck at the moment. Can you?"
He crossed his arms and went back to staring out the window, but I saw the slight smile on his face before he turned it away. "That doesn't matter. Just...if you're gonna keep on with this shit, don't make it any worse for me. If you mess with me too much I might decide that telling my wife about Tammy isn't the worst thing that I could go through."
I could hear the bluff in his voice, but of course I said nothing. "Okay then, no more lying, no more mind games - at least, other than the one I'm already playing with you. Cross my heart."
"Crazy dick," was all he said, and I was fine with that.
I watched him go into his house, enjoying even the slope of his bare calves under his white shorts. The dark windows brightened as he turned on the lights - his wife still wasn't home. I pulled around behind the park and let the van idle. I took out my laptop and watched the video feed from his room. He was there, taking off his clothes. I pulled out my hard cock and began to stroke it, marveling at how much libido this guy had awakened in me.
He was naked now, stuffing his soiled clothes into a laundry basket. He took the whole thing out of the room, presumably to put them in the wash, or burn them, or whatever. He was back not long after, checking his phone wearing nothing but his glasses. Even in the silent, cruddy resolution of the video feed I could make out his smooth curves, his muscled flanks, his semi-hard cock, and all of it quite nicely. I squeezed my cock, watched intently.
He put his phone down, and I saw that his cock was fully hard. Good lord! How much did he have left in him? He sat down on the edge of the bed facing the camera with his legs open, and I nearly came then. He touched his cock, pushed it down and let it bounce back into place. He was staring off at nothing, pondering all that had happened to him I was sure. He turned and laid back on the bed, spread his legs. I was watching all of it in profile, but that was just fine. He was gorgeous from any angle.
He began to stroke himself, eyes closed, knees bent. His other hand roamed over his body, cupped his balls...fingered his ass a little. Whose hands was he imagining? Whose lips around his cock? This was better than I could have hoped.
A car pulled up to his house, a tiny thing bursting with loud, drunk young ladies. His wife spilled out of it onto the lawn, laughing, saying goodbye to everyone. I almost didn't notice, so enraptured was I with Ben pleasuring himself.
She went up to the door, pulling her keys out. Ben heard it, his entire body suddenly stiff and still. He propelled himself off the bed and into the bathroom, shut the door. Most likely, hopefully, to take another shower and wash whatever lingering smell of me was still on him.
I finished imagining him finishing in the shower, his drunk wife talking to him about her night through the locked door.