A Long Shadow

                     A Long Shadow

There is nothing about my physical body that I can do much about save keep it in shape, clean and let others wonder. what’s under my Hanes. Yeah, I’m the ‘Long Shadow’, the professor someone thought they saw naked and hard so the ‘shadow’ was my cock. Thereafter the questions about what lay under my pants grew from modest curiosity to down right interfering discussion. I knew this had reached a point beyond which something would have to be done when the Dean sent a note asking for a ‘few minutes of my time, when convenient.’ Okay, off to see the Dean.

Couldn’t have been friendlier, it was late afternoon, he suggested that beyond educational related materials in his desk he kept a modest bar for….late afternoon. Would I care for something? At best I’m a two beer man but….this is the Dean, he’s offering and I need to accept. I regretted his asking “my pleasure?” for the answer to that would be in my car on my way home, not the proper response. Bourbon, neat?

“Two fingers?”

“Great.”

The Dean must have never been a bartender in his collegiate days, his concept of ‘two fingers’ was more in the range of half a glass full.

“Chaser?”

Big smile as I accepted more liquor than I’d had all term. “Thanks, no.”

Sip, smile, congratulate him on truly fine stuff. (It was, too.)

As I’d feared, this led him to a story of a ‘special’ place where they always had a few bottles of this very exclusive……..

I tuned him back in as he said, “...yes, it’s expensive but, I think you’ll agree, worth it.”

Smiled my agreement, took another sip, wondered when we’d come to why I’d been asked to ‘stop by’ and figured it was not to find sources for alcohol which, after all, was banned on campus.

He settled into his chair, leaned back seemed to contemplate something on his ceiling, opened and closed his mouth then opened it again.

“Jack, uhm, strange thing, just the other day...you know Phillips? Chemistry?”

I nodded that I knew him, well, knew of him. Most people did after an experiment literally backfired taking out a lot of glass in the windows, a door as well as hair, eyelashes, eyebrows, substantial pieces if clothing of students in the front row. Phillips suffered second degree burns plus the humiliation of having caused the incident. So, yeah, I knew Phillips...as the little toady he was reputed to be.

“He dropped by and told me an interesting bit of campus scuttlebutt….about you.”

Aw Shit, here it comes, the long shadow story and Phillips, ever anxious to detract from his own reputation, would be only too glad to tell the Dean.  “Really, Sir?”

“Uh, yeah, uhm, little personal….”

“I’m over 21.”

He chuckled. “Yep and….according to what’s going round, almost that in other ways. Any truth in that? Phillips says your penis is more like a tree branch…?”

Best offense is a good defense. “Sir, if there’s a problem regarding my anatomy, then probably the best thing for me to do is drop trou and let you draw your own conclusions...I’ve heard this crap and, Sir, you as Dean, and I’d appreciate it, could help me stop it just by telling the next person who ‘shares’ that rumor with you that this is a university, not  a school for scandal…or anatomy.” Didn’t wait for him to answer, put my drink on a table, stood up, undid my belt, unzipped then, grasping my Hanes briefs, pushed everything down giving the man a clear view of my equipment both front and in profile.

“Holy Shi...I mean, there is quite a lot there….I can see...that is to say, uhm, if you’d like to pull your….”

I stuffed everything back where it usually lived, got back to the way things were and sat down.

“Is there a problem?”

“Uh, no, of course not just that this stupid rumor….”

“Yes, Sir, as I said…..I didn’t start it, don’t appreciate it and wish to hell, sorry Sir, it would go away. For reasons, now pretty obvious, I don’t use the gym or the facilities there, try and find restrooms vacant when I need one plus wear pants that do not display anything more than a ‘Dockers’ tag on the back. The last thing I want is for this to become, and I guess it already has, a subject of campus speculation….” I was really steamed and he could see it. “How about if I dropped by the art department, stripped and had someone there do a representation of Michelangelo's  ‘David’ but with my cock and balls-I always thought he got short changed in that department-no need to wonder or chatter about it, just make them hang some pictures of this ‘art’ and scuttle any further discussion….Sorry, Sir...I’m just sick of it and that it’s come to you….”  

He could not have been more solicitous, apologetic, certainly he understood...just unfortunate…..which is about where I tuned out-again-only circumspectly listening for those words that I knew concluded with what amounted to an informal apology plus the offer to ‘do what I can’.

Horse shit. Not for nothing was he widely, and correctly, known as ‘Jangle Jaws’, the man to whom the word ‘secret’ was without meaning.

Thanked him, approximated leaning back myself, again complimented him on the quality and flavor of the booze then brought up the sagging fortunes of the Lacrosse team….Safe territory, men, sports, liquor….Half an hour later, having refused a ‘refill’ but encouraged him to have one, I got up, we shook, made some dumb remarks about a ‘lunch date to discuss something’ and left him, both of us smiling.  

I don’t like driving after I’ve had a drink and particularly when it’s one that, I know, would cause me to blow over the legal limit if I were faced with a breathalyzer test. What then? Tell the officer to call the Dean? He did it, he gave me too much, his fault. In short I got home in a less than cheery mood forgetting Bryce would be there.

He’d decided to meet me at the back door which….was a poor idea as I shoved it open with enough force that it caught him off balance almost causing him to do a face plant.

Covering his semi-wounded cheek with his hand, “I take it this is not the end of a perfect day…”

“Sorry, babe, the Dean Shanghaied me….” Kissed him.

He sniffed. “Bourbon”?

“From some expensive place...I got the whole story.”

“And? Mission accomplished?”

“Yep, shucked off my pants, gave him the full view, even from the side; He seemed impressed.”

Bryce put his hand lovingly over where he knew the long pole was. “How tired are you?”

I put my arms around his shoulders, our foreheads together. “Hungry?”

I heard the zip which stood in for an answer also, as he slid South he undid the buttons on my shirt assuming I could remove the rest of it while he sucked me off.

Welcome home.

Easy to get out of my loafers, Bryce had my pants and my briefs on the floor so just kicked them away, jacket and shirt were easy to dispense-I thought the loosened tie around my neck looked good, just lean back, let gravity help and, unless you counted the tie and socks as full dress, naked in my own kitchen.

“Tired? Wanta sit on something? Or get it like a man standing up?” He was already at the prime target so whatever I did only caused him to move. Went sideways, leaned against a wall, did the soldier thing, rigid body, spade handed salute. He grabbed my nuts, gave them a good yank, kept nibbling down my long pole….leaving me to try and retain my Ten Hut! While he took an occasional chomp with his teeth. (One of his requests was that I have the corona around my dick head tattooed with his bite marks, just as reference points. Not a bad idea, might go with the Prince Albert I was considering, sort of turning the pole into a place to tie up people while otherwise involved-not everything I did, or liked to do, involved my dick.) Spanking for example, both giving and receiving. (Once, and more painfully than I’d thought it might be, I swatted Bryce’s tail with my very stiff staff. Big Mistake.)

My favorite sex pal was in particularly good tongue-maybe I should be late oftener. Of course his goal in life was to deep throat me, all thirteen inches, when really stiff, but, to date, that remained a goal unfulfilled although ‘somehow’ word got out there was a sort of prize to the man who finally did it. Sort of a Guinness record sort of thing however, in this case, there was a charge to try as well as….not mentioned, a photograph of the attempt. What’s the saying? “Many have called but few have chosen to take the whole thing….” Happy to take on all who will pay the fee...I allow three tries over two hours-faculty salaries are notoriously low; Practically every other man I knew had some second job; Sex and my cock were mine. Beat working at one of the local slaughter houses or getting minimal wage working in a store selling whatever they sold. Oh, and the bottom of the barrel, insurance which you attempted to hawk to your friends with little success save they grew wary of you suspecting a potential sales pitch.

The best contestants , and closest, were  the guys in the fraternity of which I was the faculty sponsor. All in good fun, of course, but they raised a grand then selected their five best suckers to give it a go. Gotta say, one kid-I swear he was going into oral science-got to ten inches  looked like he had it knocked….but, darn it, gag reflex took him out. Nice guys, told them, as a fund raiser, I’d let them try it again. Oh, and, just for them, if you tried and failed….well the unlucky losers had to ‘pay’ a forfeit, taking it in the ass by some of the guys who had paid money for that privilege. Gotta say, fair is fair, I got a shot at a couple who now know just how much cock they can take up their tail….apparently more than one of them felt they needed additional practice which meant calling me to make an appointment with me,  their advisor, to see if he was up for an interview. To keep my hands from being sullied, Bryce always took their money before they appeared, naked, fully greased, ready for an informal pop quiz.

I scouted around for something to put on while Bryce served dinner. Really good beef stew made the all day way, hard to even tell there was meat but off the chain in taste.

“What about the Dean?”

“Jangle Jaws? Best PR I could get. It’s Thursday so give him a weekend to tell anyone he meets, in confidence of course, about his professor with the monster dick, he can attest to it, he’s seen it.”

“Stroke of brilliance getting in to see him…..”

“Are you kidding, the guys at the Frat almost broke down his door telling him about their advisor with the hot dog dong...after that….just a matter of time until I  got the call.” I chewed for a moment. “Do something different to the corn bread? Really good.”

“Used Mayonnaise instead of oil, added a little sugar….makes it less crumbly, firmer...tastes better, yep, I agree.” He searched the table for the ketchup.

“You want to rent the usual motel rooms? It’s the ‘big game’ this weekend, I can smell land office  business...unless you’ve got papers to grade?”

I burped. “Call Ben at the frat….uh...tell him I’m going to need eight suckers and five fuckers….do the usual, put up the plywood with the glory holes in one room….” I thought about it. “Whattaya think? Two fuckers per room? Get twin beds? Maybe some bondage? Two of them tied down? Guys during games aren’t there for the long haul, in, out, out the door.” I thought some more… “Course….remember that guy, had a buddy, they wanted a room for the game and tail ready to be rolled after it was over, an all nighter...wish that kid hadn’t graduated, he could take it hard, deep and often. Ask Ben if anyone has been practicing with those graduated Dildos I sent over….fuck, ask Ben what he’s ready for; He’s their president, their leader, if he can take it in the ass, while blowing a guy, just tell him to recruit a couple like him.”

Bryce had that sneaky look that usually meant he had an idea, an idea I was going to like and find profitable.

“Wonder if they’ve got any virgins over there? Need their cherries punched? High dollars for that….even if we have to...uh...well...”

“Cuff ‘em?”

“Yeah.”

“Helluva an idea, just a helluva an idea. Even if Ben doesn’t have a virgin, he’s a clever lad, bet he could find one or two-tell them they’re going to meet Alums and this is part of fraternity initiation….fuck this is a big campus, so every guy has jacked off but when you get to guys who take in their butt...not that many, even less who are thinking about doing it but haven’t.”

“The cops?”

“Isn’t Manley usually assigned to lead security for the games? Hell, if things slow down directing traffic to the mens’ can, sell him. Men in uniform are big movers and who doesn’t want to get even with a cop for something? Call him….hey...run the virgin thing past him….maybe something like a get out of jail free for one little passing go...on your back...or front. Last time we put him in, he scored big….didn’t he screw the coach from the visiting team?”

“Uh, yeah but….they’d lost, he’d bet his ass if they did he’d take it in the dumpster…”

We spent an hour on the phone calling to set up this and that, getting a hold of people, telling the frat guys not to get slopped on Friday night cuz it really hurts to have cocks stuck in you with a hangover….sucking is no better…”

“Jesus, remember the time the guy was giving head and threw up on him?”

“I’d rather forget that one...”

The phone rang.

“Little late...”

Bryce answered.

“Talk….”

A voice, he didn’t know, but introduced himself as ‘a friend of the Dean’. Covered the phone with his hand, waved at me, pointed at the phone and, still preventing anyone at the other end from hearing what he said, “Friend of the Dean, you take it.”

“Sorry, dropped the phone, this is Professor Dryden...who’s this?”

“Uh, you don’t know me but I’m a friend, well, an acquaintance really, of the Dean and...uh..uhm….he told me something…”

“Sir, who is this, please?”

“Oh, me, uh, my name is, uh, Jack Smith”.

I almost did drop the phone. Pressing it to my chest I said to Bryce, “It’s Jack Smith”.

Bryce registered either surprize or confusion then rolled his eyes to Jesus.

“Okay, Mr. Smith, how may I help you? Your child a student of mine?”

“No, I don’t have...I mean...that’s not why I called...uhm...the Dean told me an interesting thing and I just wondered, uhm, whether…..”

“Cut to the chase, man, what did the Dean tell you?”

Startled, he blurted out, “You have a dick”.

“The Dean told you that? Gee, well, he should know, most men have one, bet he does himself….so, what’s your point?”

Jack II was having a hard time pulling it together. Jack I, me, was no help and, fuck, the Dean told him this guy had a schlong that belonged in a museum….so...what he wanted was, he thought, a shot at it.

There had been a pause that went a little too long. “Listen, buddy, yeah, I got a big, long, hefty dick, use it to move pig iron...is that something you wanted to know? Strikes me as odd the Dean would bother telling anyone I had a dong worth mentioning so, since he did, or so you say, what is you want?”

“I want to see it.”

“Mister I am one punch from sending you to electronic heaven. Why in hell would you call me, use a dumb ass name, then, citing my own Dean, ask to take a gander at what’s in my pants?”

There was almost no voice but the one that spoke next was very quiet. “I’m a cock sucker...I want to suck your cock….bad.”

“Is this a gag?” But I knew it wasn’t...this was just preparation for what I knew would come very soon.

“No, no, no….I love cocks, love the jizz in them, love balls, love that little slit...I just, well, you know...”

“No, I don’t know. Get to your point if there is one.”

“I want to suck that cock the Dean says looks like it was rightly on a horse.”

“Well, go find a horse, suck its cock if what you want is a horse cock...”

“Please, I’m real serious….I look for guys with cocks...all sorts...big, well, that’s the holy grail but ones that bend sideways...”

“That’s Peyronie’s Disease, it’s curable.”

That threw him. Apparently he and the good Dr. Peyronie were not on close terms...if he’d even heard of him. To fill the void I reached down, started working on the object of conversation….just in case.

“I’m doing this all backwards, I really collect cocks...”

“Sorry, mines attached.”

“No, I mean I collect sucking them...even bring a camera so that, you know, I’ll remember….”

“Sort of scrap book? Full of cocks with numbers and vitals? Sounds more like a perverted police line up just no faces….”

“...but mine….I gotta prove it was me, I did it….”
“Jesus, mister, is there some sort of group? Are you on a scavenger hunt for the biggest or longest or heaviest or….whatever you can track down? And, just so I’ll understand, how did my Dean happen to mention this? It’s not part of the core curriculum or any business of the school or, for that, his business.”

“I heard him tell somebody….he was at that quicky mart place...and he was telling the guy behind the counter that one of his professors was hung like a horse.”

Took less time than I’d thought. Jangle Jaws, bless him, is making my reputation, and sales pitch faster than even I thought. Better yet, coming from an eminent person such as a dean at a university...how could it not be true? Plus, since he will say he’s seen the object in question? Well, hell yes he will, right in his office, Thursday afternoon….Would a Dean lie?

Okay, just what I’d kinda hoped he’d do, not sure telling kids working at a service station was my target audience but, what the hell, they passed on crap like that….One thing, and it was clear he’d done it, gave my name….if he’d checked university files he could have provided my date of birth, Social Security number, height, weight, color of hair and eyes, that I’d been in the National Guard...everything but my sperm count.

(My stint in the Guard was still paying dividends; Not only had the Feds financed my education, made the payment on my house, but, like the Dean, the guys I’d served with had great memories, stories to tell, references to give…..although it wasn’t on our uniform tunics, my dick was the company mascot and, this is a no brainer, for lots of reasons, I was the company commander.)

I really did owe the Dean a favor, maybe hit that expensive grog shop and send him a bottle of that Bourbon. Hell, buy a bottle myself, it really was good….but to the telephonic topic in hand. For dinner I’d grabbed some briefs as well as a T-already had a tie and socks-so whatever “John Smith” wanted, I was stripped for action.

“Run this by me again; You want to give me a blow job, photograph it….want an autograph as well?”

“So...will you?”

“What the hell, if you’re good, and based on what you say you collect you probably are, any guy likes to get sucked. Let me guess...you’re parked out front. Want me to open a curtain and wave what you crave at you?”
I knew he’d be taken aback at my knowing (informed guess) that he was out front. If nothing else, that shortened the time, he already knew where I lived so no point in trying to lead him astray….I winked at Bryce.

“Be naked at my front door in five….”

“But...”

“The usual, get the tag number, check to see if it’s unlocked….as we know, they’ll be something personal laying around….lift it….he’ll leave his clothes as close to the front door as possible so...find his pants, get his keys and….drop them in the bush where he peeled.”

“Are we gonna call the cops?”

“Hmmm. Manley? See if he wants a quick screw in suburbia, sure, why not. My treat. Tell him to use an unmarked, come in through the garage, he’s got the code, you’ll be by the pool or someplace easy to find...tell him I’m getting a blow job in the front hall, that ought to give him a laugh.”

Bryce stood at the back door to watch for his chance to scoot out then do what we’d planned while I hit the kitchen sink, washed the object of his obsession, waited more than five minutes, thought about turning on the porch light, decided that was cruel….fun, but cruel, I’d save cruel for his next, and there would be, a next visit. The time when we blew him with a milking machine. Three times.

In my tie and socks, plus a pretty good body, I stood behind the door in the front hall idly fooling with my stick, getting it up just enough to inspire rabid desire then, faster than Dorothy tugging the farm house door to Oz, snapped it open. As instructed, one naked Jack Smith.

His opening statement revealed a caution unusual in those who solicit sex over the telephone. “Jesus, you’ve got the light on…..”

I reached behind his neck then, concurrently, pulled him through the door, pushed it shut with my foot and pressed him to his knees. Eye to eye, so to speak, with what he came to see.

“We need to talk money.” That tossed him.

“Huh?”

“I’m a professional cocksman, you want to suck, you pay for the privilege. Buddy, if he were in your place, I’d charge the Dean.”

“How….how much?”

I put the free hand under my buddy, hoisted it, shucked it a bit….He had to cross his eyes to see the whole length. It had the appearance I’d come (sorry, poor choice of words) to expect.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph….it’s long.”

He had a taste for the obvious that, in polite conversation, could quickly become boring.

“Yeah, I know that, it lives with me.”

He stared. I practiced patience but even in a now dim foyer, I could see Bryce moving around his car, pad in hand-he had a rotten memory for numbers; After three months of being, more or less, in residence, he had not been able to memorize my phone number. It was suggested that it be tattooed on the sole of his foot...a suggestion that caused him to learn it.

“Buddy, its been a long day, what you see is what you said you want. What I’m saying is everything has a price…..you won’t find one like this at the carnival in the ring toss booth so…..what’s your offer?”

“Do you take American Express?”

Pissed off, dumb founded, startled, mad, “Sure, every where I go. But if you mean, and you must be a cretin if you think this, that I accept cards from every man who wants to orally shake the weasel, you are a sick person. No. Cash, I take that everywhere I go as well.”

We, well he, was at an impasse plus he had me royally pissed off. But his next question almost blew him back through the door.

“Is there an ATM around here?”

I just stared at him. Could not think of a thing to say, well, one thing, in anticipation, did fall from my stricken mouth…

“Before you asked, I don’t take checks, personal or corporate.”

Peripheral vision shows me that Bryce is now beating the bushes, holds up his clothes, reaches in a pocket, pulls something out, tosses it then hot foots back around the house. If it had been possible, as irked as I was, to have him just take his clothes, AMEX card and all. As is, I knew something he didn’t which was if he wanted to drive to an ATM, and I did know where a couple were, first he was going to have to find his keys.

A plot formed in my deviant mind.

Trying to overcome being livid, I switch to calm. “Lets settle on a price after which I’ll tell you where there’s an ATM...maybe two or three of them. Now, here’s what you’ll pay for the privilege of sucking my cock; One Thousand Dollars, cash, nothing over a fifty...too hard to off load hundreds at pizza joints.

He seemed surprised.

“What did you expect? A buck ninety nine and two egg rolls? Look at this poker, you say you collect cocks you’ve sucked? Well, this should, probably would be the prize of your collection and, Mister, for every prize there’s a cost, a big one. That grand is mine so...pay it or get out.”

‘Listen, could we work something out?”

Dumb struck. I just stared at him.

No point in even answering. At least not that question, time to move ahead.

“Go get your clothes, wherever you tossed them, find your billfold and your Amex, Visa,  I don’t give a fuck, one that makes a machine spit money.  Leave your duds with me, here, on the floor. After that, just like you are now, stark naked, in your car, find one at a drive up, get the money then come back whereupon you can suck my dick, take pictures, whatever but that’s the be all and the end all. Go to it IF you want a long slurp of what you see in front of you.

He took instructions well. Out the door, scurried around, brought back some slacks, shirt, underpants then handed them, holding onto his billfold,  to me as if he’d just made an offering at the temple of the Penis God.

“Down the street, first main intersection, turn right, two blocks, Bank of Something or other...they’ve got a line of ATMs. Get cash, get back, get this stuck in your mouth for whatever you want just no teeth.”

Didn’t give him time to think, just shoved him out the door, slammed, locked then, to encourage him along, turned on the porch light.

Oh God did I want to peek out and see him run to his car, realize he didn’t have the keys, run back to the bushes...almost fall in trying to spot them.

Bryce put his arms around me, tickling both nipples which...had an effect on an organ recently under discussion.

“I think you got poison ivy in there.”

I could have kissed him…..so I did.

It took a little longer than I had expected for “John Smith” to complete his tasks. Needless to say, given what Bryce had, we now knew who what and where, in other words as much about Sam Bronsen, aka “Jack Smith” as we needed to know. Bryce mentioned pictures of kiddies and a really ugly wife which would go a long way toward his giving blow jobs….bet he never got one unless he was a whizz with the Hoover.

Hand cuffs clanking make a distinct sound saying that Officer Manley had accessed the bunk house and was looking for an open tail. Bunk or otherwise. I turned Bryce, gave the cop a thumbs up, then stuck it in Bryce’s ass just to get things going, and shoved him off to do his legal best.

Manley seemed pleased….sorry he’d come casually, I don’t know but...there might be an upcoming moment when an officer in uniform, even if he was holding his pants and was bare assed, might be not only convenient but interesting.

Sam/Jack finally crept back. I heard his car so the front door was open, waiting, unlit...he’d already had a bad day for which he was going to pay.

“All they give is 20’s.” He thrust a stack of crisp bills at me, only a few of which fell to the floor.

“Pick ‘em up.” Military training helped, he responded to orders.

He did. “Lets see your camera….how are you gonna set this up, and don’t show me a Polaroid or a Brownie from your kid….”

The mention of a ‘kid’ gave him a start.

“What kid?”

“I donno, just the sort of kid many guys have who have a cheap camera...”

He produced a fancy Nikon, also a tripod which, I assumed, allowed him to be in the pictures he wished to take. I was impressed; Most guys who wanted to suck me off just did so, probably preferring that their picture and my meat did not appear together. Anywhere.

Yep, he had the grand in twenties so, there in the entrance, I shucked out of my briefs, held his prize under one hand, pointed it at him saying, “Okay, buddy, it’s all yours, go for it.”

Ever watched someone caress an object which they deemed to be of great value? That they were even allowed to touch it was, well, a gift from the gods, that was Jack/Sam fingering the length of my bone, encouraging it to get harder….all the time with an expression that suggested he needed a psych evaluation for some form of mania. One thing, when he said he collected cocks, I believed him. What must have been frustrating was that once done, played with, admired, he had to leave them where he found them. In a bizarre sort of way, I could see his ‘man cave’ only instead of stuffed animal heads, just stuffed heads of guy’s dicks.

He was on his knees otherwise I’d have been tempted to reach over then give his nuts a good squeeze and jerk. Call it encouraging but ‘encouraging’ him was something I did not need to do.

Truth here. Getting blown for money by some dude you don’t even know is not all that sexy. Yeah, you get hard, yeah you’ll blow creme, yeah there is some sense of orgasm but, I don’t know this, ask anyone who whores themselves, after the first however many, it’s just another moment of your time you’ve sold when, in fact, you have better things to do. Just then, I could have joined Manley, probably double fucking Bryce. Think about it, with what I had, I was the perfect partner to join another guy; I didn’t even have to be that close to give the bottom deep penetration.

Jack/Sam having fondled the thing he wanted, it was now time to open his mouth to begin insertion. I could-and have been-a lot stiffer but for the purpose at/in hand, too much more and he would have difficulties even getting it a little in; A certain flexibility helped and, I’m no Scrooge, the guy had paid for this, I was willing to be cooperative.

He gave the head a good washing then leaned back. “Forgot to ask….is there a time limit?”

Just stared at him…..

“I mean, I forgot to ask.”

“Times up when you feel a sloshing of cum on your tongue…..” Seemed a fair answer to a stupid question.

It is hard to feign even modest interest while some guy romances your stiffy only because that’s his thing. Bryce, even when half asleep, could get down there and because I have real feelings for him, had to be careful or the ‘sproing’ my tool would make hardening up could have done damage to his jaw. Jack/Sam, while deeply engrossed in what he was doing, forgot he was eating a man’s penis so….to get the most for the money he’d paid, might help if he appeared to be at least slightly interested in the guy. Fondle his nuts, rub his abdomen, reach around and maybe stick a finger up his ass but not Jack/Sam. Nope. He was fixated on the experience of having his mouth around the longest cock he’d ever seen...or probably would see until he came back as I was sure he would.

Tried to be helpful.

“Hey, want a picture of it squirting? You’re getting there. Nice shot of your tongue curled like a log flume letting the good stuff roll down it...”

He had done this before. Without so much as curling a lip, he positioned the camera, held the trigger then fired away. More anxious than a wedding photographer and equally anxious to not be in the way of the happy couple, he crab walked around the floor getting angles, set ups, taking pictures….explained how that for something this long, he needed a sort of triangulation shot going from my crotch to tip. Okay, fine. I’ll store that should anyone every want to know how to photograph it all.

We’d past the finish line; I had more in me but, knowing of activities in the house, I was saving something for later. Sam/Jack, too, seemed to be, reluctantly, at a quitting point; I half expected him to pet it, say “Nice Horsey”.

Well, he was, but I was not. “He, you paid for it, might as well get the whole experience.  Turn around, let me lube you then….”

Jack/Sam almost annealed himself against the door. “You, you want to….stick that thing in me?”

This wasn’t exactly the response I’d expected however….

“Yeah, all the guys like it, pretty much insist on it...see how much they can take and, I can promise you, your prostate is an easy reach….”

This did not compute-his bug eyed expression said that.

“Up my ass?”

I thought for a minute...realizing that, inadvertently, life was about to squeeze lemonade from a lemon.

“You’re a virgin back there, never been butt fucked.”

He shook his head.

“Ever wanted to be...it kinda goes with the territory, you know, all the things you can do with a dick, suck, fuck, pierce….”

The last doubled his shudder factor.

I took a quick pause while I added a new face and a very new activity to the activities surrounding ‘The Big Game”. Of course, now he was big game, just needed to tell him...but slowly.

“Ever been to a glory hole? I mean, been one of the guys who are on their knees doing the sucking….done anything like that.”

Deer in the headlights. Nope.

“Tell you what, this weekend some buddies and I run a sort of concession by the stadium and I think I just found an A number 1 sucker to work one of the holes. You just proved you’ve got endurance, can swallow….”

He started to rise, ready to make a quick retreat. Of course he had yet to discover that I had a touch pad for a lock for those moments you forgot your key.  Now since he had neither a key or the fingers that would touch the pad correctly, he was now a ‘guest’. Not a happy one but, compared to what was coming, right now, all was well.

“Tell you what, SAM….”

You don’t see many men cringe.

“What...what did you say….??”

“Sam, you, SAM Bronsen….want your address? Fuck Jack Smith, you are Sam Bronsen...”

“How…..?”

“Do you think I let anyone, let alone someone who calls up, wants to eat my meat, in this house without knowing who they are? Want to try denying you’re Sam? Wife? Three kids? I’d tell you where you live but I’m betting you know that.

He had one half of a Mexican stand off which disappeared when I told him to squat on the floor, sit on his hands.

I run a full service home, anticipate what guests might need, want, which, in this case was a pair of police issue cuffs kept in a small drawer in a hall table. Got them out, told him to stand, turn, palms out. Click and Click.

“Get comfortable, I’ll be right back.” Would be, too.

Wandering idly through the house as much to give Sam time to ‘think things over’ as to give me time to decide how to play this, I heard familiar noises that indicated a couple of men I knew were involved in a game of slap and tickle, adult version. Sticking my head around the corner into the screened in porch, yep, there were Bryce and Manley.

I said I have a full equipped home. I also have two cats who, given no supervision, would reduce the upholstery, chair legs, really anything to shreds. To avert this I keep a selection of loaded squirt guns which the cats do not like when fired upon. They’re also good for breaking up formative trysts which is what I did.

“Jesus, Jack, what the fuck.”

“Sorry to interrupt but...I got a hot flash bagged up in the front hall. Remember how we discussed what the going price for a virgin might be?….”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, my cocksucker has never been cherried out but I do believe his moment is about to appear.” I paused, looked at Manley-who was well worth looking at- “by some chance do you have a uniform?”

“Does what I have in laundry I was going to drop off count?”

I smiled.

Some minutes later, after a briefing and allowances for laughter and some minor plotting, I reappeared in my hall where Sam, not surprizingly, had gone...no where. Of course I wasn’t alone.

“This the one? Certified virgin?”

“Check if you want to.”

Sam seemed not only puzzled but frightened at the sight of an officer in uniform accompanying a, still, naked me.

“Got your keys? I wanta switch out.”

We did.

He squatted down as only the police, and particularly motorcycle officers, can. “Here’s the deal. I can take you in for solicitation, probably find enough to run it up to a class three felony or….you can spend Saturday with a group of great guys enjoying sex. Jack here tells me you’re a professional cocksucker but, to us, your greater value is your untouched ass.”

Manley put it right on the line.

“Do you know what some guys will pay to fuck a virgin, particularly one that looks like you, no kid, a man, you got an idea what you’ll go for?”

He didn’t but the tears that were beginning to trace down his cheeks suggested whatever he was worth to someone else, he was worth more to him. I think we both knew what was coming.

“I’ll pay, I’ll pay anything if you won’t….make me….I...”

“Stud, you are going to be sign, sealed and delivered to the highest bidder, one virgin ass, tied down..”

“Oh, God”

“Greased”

“Oh, God, God”

“Ready for someone with a good pig sticker, you deserve a man’s dick shoved up you, not some kid or short dicked jerk...hell, here’s an idea, wonder what people would pay to see Jack rip out that pitted cherry? Now that’d be a show worth real big money.” He stopped, wondering.

“Jack? You willing? Roll him and spread him, lets see what we’re working with.”

Sam was not with the program. Inverted he surprised us all, one good looking tail, nicely firm, good long split….and a virgin.

“For the right person, ten grand, easy.”

“...and if you did the first fuck, audience? Bring him in like a pig to be roasted...whattya think?”

Visions of dollar signs danced in my head however...my long shadow, noted as it was, could be over exposed. It was one thing for the Dean to know I hung a good distance in my pants, it would be another for him to get word of a public performance...I passed.

“What now?”

Jesus cops can be devious. “Well, given all the cum he’s swallowed….he did swallow didn’t he?”

“Finest kind, Grade A Milk down his throat.”

“Then...given his upcoming presentation, only fair he join the boys club in other ways...anyone who sucks cocks just has to like giving as well as receiving.”

I looked at him?

“See, what he needs is an old fashioned edging party, see how many times he can blow, get him in the spirit for whatever’s gonna happen to him.”

Bryce and I looked at each other and grinned; There was one moment of hesitation.

“What if he doesn’t show up at home...eventually?”

Manley tried to look serious. “Well, gentlemen, Sam has seen a very serious something or other and must be kept in protective custody until he’s completely uh, de-briefed. Easy to call home, explain it, have his car towed to the police lot, simple.”

“Yeah, but what do we do with him  between now and Saturday?”

God I love a shit eating grin. “Jaime...”

Jaime, of course, this man knows his  bars and bondage, fact is, he had a cell in his basement...along with quite a number of other things. He’d be up to having a prisoner, so that was solved.

“We’re gonna need para cord...a good jizzing always feels better if you’re restrained and, for edging...when he starts to flop around and holler….para-cord.”

“Basement or bed?”

“We got the sex couch down there, just made for this sort of occasion.”

Sam was not pleased to see anyone, particularly us. It seemed a good idea to gag him, at least while he was near windows or anything that transmitted sound so, after that was done, his next several hours and days were explained to him as he was scooped up then frog marched to the steps to the cellar where his next foray into involvement with cocks waited.

“Lets shave him first….” He didn’t seem pleased even though we all complimented him on how much bigger his equipment looked now that it was out of the bushes.

That done, well secured to the couch, we got comfortable while the non-stop jerk began. Good thing there were three of us...we’ve all pulled the pork but for long term non-stop jacking, three hands, well, six, just prevents tired wrists.

Sam was not cooperative although, as every guy knows, once your prostate and sexual drive slip in, resistance is almost impossible….his first was quick, productive, somewhat intense but it was then he found that edging means you don’t stop, not even to clean up, that’s when it hurts like fury….and more the second and third time.

We were about to begin round four when the jerkee passed out. Seemed a good stopping point, also a good moment to begin the transfer to Jaime who, as expected, was delighted to have a resident for his cell; Even asked for his approximate size so he’d have his Orange jumpsuit ready.

I’d never seen his set up so was impressed with the great number of things available for the sexual adventurer. Even had a hand built rack, could accommodate prisoners up to seven feet tall. Knowing that Sam wouldn’t lack for...anything we went home, tired, it had been a long night, then flipped a coin as to who would sleep next to whom. As the visitor, we put Manley in the middle.

The next day I called in sick, Manley picked out the troops he knew would work well with us and our private concession while Ben was summoned for a pow wow regarding Saturday, the Frat, who he had lined up and, oh yeah, put out the word we’d have a virgin...for a price.

“No shit, where’d you find him?”

“He was delivered to the front door…..”

NEXT….

The big game and other diversions plus Sam meets his “fate worse than death”….