My summer of sex with Cowboy

Chapter 37

As Jon and I leave the apartment, Lee and Cowboy start cooking their breakfast. Walking out to my car, Jon gets a phone call and steps away from me to answer it. I stand by the car, and in less than a minute, he's back, saying, "You're not a recruit yet, so I've decided to give you a pass on the neck pressure when moving you around. I liked how you've accepted without much whining that you're basically already in my program. You've handled the transition from being the client to being a subservient trainee very well. It's almost as if you're relieved I took over for Bruce. That's quite a turnaround in less than twenty-four hours." 

He's basically patting himself on the back for getting on top of me so easily, although what he said is accurate. Anyway, I say, "Thank you, Jon," and mean it because the nerves at the back of my neck need a break. Jon is small but strong when he overdoes, squeezing the back of my neck when we're going from one place to another. The little fucker gives me a boner, acting so confident and in charge.

As I'm unlocking the car, he says, "I know we don't start the real training for two or three weeks, but I'm going to stay on top of you with little things to make it easier for you to accept full-fledged training status again." I'm nodding, starting the car, then the top is going down, as he adds, "So, what I'm saying is, accept that you're partially in the program right now. Not the full training day, obviously, but I'll keep on top of you to reinforce what you've committed yourself to do. I'm not sure it's totally sunk into your head yet that you've committed yourself to me."

I shrug, "I gave my word of honor, but it still isn't one hundred percent that Bruce will want to do this. He's been getting acclimated to a normal life up until now. Just saying..." 

Jon mumbles, "As I've already told you, Zack, when he hears about Richard giving him another chance, he'll jump at the opportunity to make amends."

That's very disappointing to think about.

He taps my shoulder, saying, "What you need to come to grips with is you've fully committed to my program, not just for three weeks. You don't believe it now, and that's okay, but by the end of the three weeks, you will be working the street the same as Bruce. Just saying..."

I smirk at him for throwing the smart ass 'Just saying' back in my face. Then he goes on, "And my friend, you will have at least a three-year commitment to me, and more likely four. It depends on how much money you earn. Big earners get options. After you meet your three-year quota, you can stay as one of my online pussy boys, or you're free to go out on your own to do, um, whatever. That doesn't include hooking in my territory, though. I'm being completely transparent about all this because I've got no reason not to be."

Nodding that I understand, I'm determined to make the best of this and do it with a positive attitude. It's already paying off, as he's stopped doing the stupid neck squeezing. I say, "Jon, ah, I want you to know I agree with what you said a while ago about me benefitting from this. At nineteen, you're more mature than I am at twenty-three, so I'm going to be conscientious during your training and listen to what you tell me. And, of course, do what I'm told. That's my promise to you." 

He pats my shoulder, "Yeah, I know you will because you already know that it can get unpleasant for you if you screw up. The corrective discipline, well, let's avoid that."

You see, that was a misstep on his part. He didn't need to add the implied threat of severe discipline. He should have encouraged me instead, but he's not perfect. Well, neither am I since I lied by inferring I'd do the street part after the three weeks of training, but I told the truth about the training part. 

After Jon gave me directions to his barbershop, we arrived at the same barbershop Bruce used. It's not a big surprise. Thank God it's too early for pizza because he might want to go to that mediocre pizza shop, too. I say, "I'll wait for you in the car." 

Shaking his head, he goes, "No, you're coming in with me. Get out of the car."

Shit, I could never give orders and sound as confident doing it as Jon just did. And, being honest, he has a better way of being bossy than Bruce. Bruce is bossy, don't get me wrong, but Jon's more natural about giving orders. And I know why that is. It's that Jon's more relaxed as if he has no doubt that I'll do exactly what he says. He's right, too; I will. And I'll bet he's not the least surprised by that.

I see two barbers inside the shop today, one cutting a little boy's hair, his mother sitting on the edge of her seat, watching the process closely. The other barber sits in the other barber chair with his legs crossed, drinking a take-out coffee. He looks over at us, sort of sighs, and then slowly gets up. Standing, he motions for Jon to go over. Obviously, I don't need a haircut. Jon swaggers over, and I'm noticing his swagger for the first time. I'm sure I'll notice lots of things about him over the coming weeks. 

Jon mutters something to the barber, and before I sit down, the barber motions for me to come over to them. At first, I look behind me to see if he's motioning to someone there. I mean, why would he want me to go over there? Jon says, "Get over here, Zach!" 

I walk over, and the barber examines my haircut. Then, sarcastically, he asks Jon, "Do you want me to leave the line around your head between the two different length cuts like his?"

"Not if you can help it." The barber pats Jon's shoulder, mumbling, "I'll see what I can do." Then, to me, he mutters, "You can sit down." As I walk away, he says to Jon, "That's a number 1 on the upper sides and a number 2 on top, right?" Jon nods and gets in the barber chair. I go over and sit one chair away from the lady.

Ya know, I never paid much attention to haircutting before I got involved with the pussy boys. No one gave it a thought in the Seals, but it's a big deal for the pussy boys because it differentiates them from other male prostitutes out there. It's easy to spot them, as I've done several times. Anyway, I watch Jon's haircut, and, holy shit, what a major transformation in his appearance. I guess it was for me, too, but I only see myself, usually, two times a day when brushing my teeth or shaving. I see Jon all the time, so notice the difference in his appearance, much more than mine.

In less than ten minutes, we're walking out of the shop. Jon's apparently not thinking about his haircut, but he looks different without his light-brown hair. His haircut is pretty much like the one he gave me, and, um... he looked better with longer hair. Now I'm noticing the shape of his head and the features of his face more, and... well, he looked better with hair, that's all. 

When, after five minutes or so, he still hasn't mentioned anything about it, I lie and say, "You look cool with that pussy boy haircut, Jon. As you predicted last night, now we're twins... heh heh." 

He makes a rude sound and then says, "You're too familiar with me, Zach. Plus, I don't appreciate any form of brown-nosing. Got it?" 

"Yes, Jon." Oh, fuck, my cock tightened up, getting chastised like that. 

When I start the car, he touches my arm, saying, "Um, well, thank you. Sorry, I keep forgetting you're still a recruit waiting. My bad for snapping at you like that." 

"That's alright. You didn't ask for my opinion, so..." He nods, "Good answer," and I pull away, asking, "Do you want me to drive to your place now?" 

He says, "No, that last phone call was from Richard. He wants to see us five minutes from now, so speed it up." Holy fuck, my balls shrink to marble-size ice balls... Richard? What does he want? 

I'm not afraid of him, but I remember how much trouble I caused by acting surly to him. It got all the paddling horseshit started, which eventually led to Bruce getting sent to the funhouse. Damn, the last time I was presented to Richard, Bruce had to paddle me and give me a drug so I'd appear appropriately humble. I say, sounding timid, which pisses me off, but there it is, "I know I shouldn't question you, Jon, but why do I need to see Richard? He doesn't like me." 

He looks at me and says, "I know all about the history you've had with him. He's our ultimate boss, so we do what we're told." 

"How does Richard even know you've recruited me? It was just last night!"  

He casually mumbles, "Eli called him and filled him in last night after I called Eli and told him you've totally committed to my program. Obviously, it was a late call. It was right after we finished with your training about pussy boy shower etiquette. You were still showering when I called him. He's my upline main man, and he contacted Richard, who's his upline boss."

I drive for a minute in silence and then say, "But what should I do or say when we get there?" 

"Be very respectful and humble. And don't say anything unless he tells you to speak. He reads emotions in our eyes, so don't think bad thoughts. Got it?" 

"Yes, Jon." It's so cool how, without even trying, Jon can give me a boner. He's so fucking calmly in charge, doing it effortlessly. I glance at him, trying to get used to his new appearance. 

When I pull onto the street that's closest to the locker rooms, Jon complains, "This is my fucking day off, and I've gotta come back here," then he chuckles, adding, "That's life. Okay, you are already a pussy boy as far as Richard's concerned, so act like a recruit who is about to see the big boss, and it's okay to be nervous. We both know that Richard is an intimidating bastard." 

Well, now he is making me nervous, which will help, actually. I'm nervous that I'll screw this up for Jon and Bruce. At least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself is the case.

Jon says, "Park next to the fire hydrant. We won't be here long." 

I park there, and we walk up the same ramp under which I beat up those bullies. On the boardwalk, a block from the lockers, Jon tells me, "I know I just told you I'm not doing the neck squeeze anymore, but we're seeing Richard, so I need to squeeze the back of your neck dominantly, so he'll see that you've accepted your place as a pussy boy trainee hoping to get qualified." 

I nod, "Yes, Jon." 

He doesn't grip my neck until we get to the front door, where I docilely lean down a little, and he grips the back of my neck hard. I try not to squawk out but can't stop from hunching down, scrunching my face because it really hurts! "Jon, please, not so hard..."
When we go through the door, he squeezes harder, and I'm hunching down so much now our shoulders are almost level. Looking almost straight down, I can't see where we're walking. Jon stops after ten steps and says, "Good morning, Richard." 
Richard mutters, "Oh, you're here already, Scheyer, and you got a perfect pussy boy haircut too. And, um, oh yeah, you've got the ex-Navy Seal under control, I see. Take him to my office. I need to handle a customer complaint; then I'll be in to deal with this fuck-head." 

I can't even see him because I'm looking at the 'effing floor. In the office, Jon mumbles, "Wow, I could tell he was impressed with you being docile. Excellent!" He means it was excellent for him. Richard was impressed with him. He still hates me.

Loosening his hold a lot, Jon goes, "Stay hunched like that as if I'm squeezing the shit out of your neck. He'll want me to keep doing this until he tells me to let you go." 

I hate to admit this even to myself, but I am nervous about what Richard will do to me. He likes severe paddling for discipline, and I thought I'd never be paddled again. What kind of revenge might he want for the humiliation I caused him? Right now, I need to figure out how much shit from him I'm willing to put up with to keep Bruce's and Jon's dreams alive, and I guess mine, too, although mine are quite different.

Then the door opens, and Richard says, "Well, Scheyer, I congratulate you for getting this gangster under control." 

Jon says, "We don't officially begin for two to three weeks, but he's agreed to take some training to be closer to Bruce's experience. He already knows his place. We're waiting for Dunlop to finish an obligation, then I'll do them together." 

Richard mumbles, "Yeah, I know all that. And, I want you to bring that prick, Bruce, in to see me when you get hold of him. Where's he at, anyway. Eli told me, but I forget." Jon says, "Philly. He's working construction, but when he finds out you're going to allow him to be a trainee again, he'll be thrilled."

All I can see of Richard are his feet. He's wearing sandals and white socks. He dresses like shit... no style at all. I'm not a clothes horse either, but come on! White socks with sandals? His feet come around in front of me and stop. He snickers, then mutters, "Let go of him."
Jon let go of my neck, and I slowly straightened up, rubbing my neck and averting my eyes. Richard, who's the same height as Jon, grips my chin, jerking my head down, saying, "Hello again, you puke. What do you have to say for yourself?" 

Shocking me, my voice quivers as I murmur, "I want to thank you for giving me another chance, Richard. I'm very sorry I did what I did. I know an apology is nowhere near enough, but I do apologize, and I'm ready to accept my punishment."

He says, "What a crock of bullshit!" and he swats the side of my head hard. He looks me in the eyes, and my eyes slowly move down to look at the floor, and he swats my head again, "Look me in the eyes!" 
I quickly look into his beautiful eyes, and he says, "Well, look at you now, ya freaky Navy Seal. You're not so hot now, are you? And you weren't so hot the last time I saw you either. So, which is a tougher bunch, pussy Navy Seals like you or us pussy boys?" 

"You're tougher, Richard," and then, looking away because my eyes are stinging, a tear runs down my face. Goddammit!

Richard looks incredulous, yelling at Jon, "What the fuck have you been doing to him? Jesus Christ, Jon, he's a mess and no good to us in this fucking condition." 

Jon sounds defensive, almost whining, "I've still got a few weeks to shape him up. He needed to be punished, though." 

Richard says, "Fuck, you're smaller than me. What, he just let you paddle him or whatever the fuck you did?" Richard sounds legitimately pissed at Jon.

I'm still a little slumped, hoping this way, the difference in our sizes isn't so obvious. These two are dwarfs, compared to me, and not just their heights either. They're little guys. Richard pushes up on my chin again, saying, "Stand up, let me see you." 

Then to Jon, "You and that Goddamn Dunlop are sadists, ya know that? Bruce brought this asshole in to see me after paddling his ass like a madman. His butt looked like a road map with welts and blood blister... disgusting." 

Jon says, "I didn't paddle him. I used psychological shit that I learned from you." 

That makes Richard snicker again, then mumble, "Yeah, fuck with his head, fuck with his dreams and self-image, and whatnot." He moves my head from side to side using a grip on my chin, then mumbles, "I like that you both got fresh haircuts, so that impresses me. I'll assume, because of that, he realizes his situation."

Then he goes, "Not that I don't trust you, Scheyer. You say you didn't paddle him, but take his shorts off so I can inspect his ass and the back of his legs." 

Jon bumps me, saying, "You heard him." 

"Yes, Jon," and I pull my shorts and underpants down to my knees. Richard says, "Pull your T-shirt up." I'm standing almost straight now, looking down at the top of Richard's head. He needs a fresh pussy boy haircut himself, but I decide not to mention that. And, as I've said before, you better get used to being naked if you wannabe be in the pussy boy group.

Richard, as casually as you please, picks up my dick, saying to Jon, "He needs a MAN creme treatment." Then to me, "Turn around," and with my pants around my ankles, I need to take many little steps to do that. Richard's hand gropes my left butt cheek as he mutters, "Smooth as a baby's butt." He smacks my ass, but not hard, saying, "Pull your shorts up," then to Jon, "I believed you, Jon. Trust, but verify, ya know?"

When I've got my shorts back in place, Richard says to Jon, "Okay, you've done a fantastic job of fucking him up, and now I'm begging you to finish training him and then get his ass on the street without me ever needing to see or hear about him again. He caused me a lot of trouble with my stepfather, although some good came out of it. We cracked down hard on that sick motherfucker, Bill Gimus, who was running that fucked up funhouse. Jesus H Christ, what perversion! So he's out of the club because of the way he was treating our pussy boys, and, haha, he fell down the steps a couple of times when our securities dickheads accidentally tripped him twice while dragging his ass out."

Jon asks, "Um, don't you have discipline plans for McMann here?" 

Richard sits at his desk, "Yeah, I had some, but you've done such a great job of humbling him; I'm happy to be done with this pain in the ass. I do wanna see that Dunlop prick as soon as you get him under control, though." 

Richard's phone rings, and he picks it up, mumbling to Jon, "Get him outta here." Nodding, Jon grips my neck, but not hard; I hunch over as if it hurts, and out we go. On the boardwalk, he lets go of me entirely, saying, "Holy shit, that was an Academy Award performance, Zach. My hats off to you, dude." 

I shrug, glad it's over.

Walking down the ramp, I'm happy he thought I was acting... I wasn't. I'm embarrassed at the way I let Richard intimidate and smack me around. It didn't hurt at all, but it was humiliating. It was a far different story the last time I saw him, which Richard conveniently forgot. He was referred to the last time Bruce brought me to see him after paddling me and giving me that drug. The actual last time I saw Richard, I was enraged, and I slapped the shit out of him for sending Bruce to the funhouse. He's blanked that from his brain, apparently.

But the big difference this time is that I needed something from Richard, which made him powerful and me weak. I needed to meet him with my hat in hand to humbly suck up, basically begging him to allow me to continue as a pussy boy trainee. If he saw through my false apology and lack of sincerity, it could negatively affect Bruce's chances of being forgiven, assuming he wants to be forgiven. Jon is so positive Bruce will want that, and I believe him now. 

Richard could logically consider Bruce and me the same problem and conclude we're mocking him for the third time. The first time was Bruce's video dissing Richard, and the second time was me breaking Bruce out of the funhouse. 
Because I'll be with Jon and Bruce, I'll do the training crap if it'll help them. I'm crazy about both of them and what else do I have going in my life? Bruce and Jon are the closest facsimiles to friends I have. I mean, other than Cowboy and Lee, whose lives I don't want to intrude on, they'll be off to college before I know it anyway. So, in effect, I was begging Richard to give me another chance, and consequently, I acted pathetically weird!

At the car, Jon says what I was thinking, "I didn't want to put any extra pressure on you, but if he said no to you, that would be the same as a double no that includes Bruce and me. He thinks you two, you and Bruce, were cohorts trying to humiliate him." 

I shrug but have nothing to say because I feel a little sick to my stomach. Jon looks at me and says, "What's wrong? You did great." I nod and mutter, "Thanks." When we're in the car, he says,  "Okay, we'll go to my place now." 

Before I get moving, my cell phone rings. I think it's Bruce confirming I'm meeting him at five thirty, but it's not. There's a telephone number, not a name, on the caller ID. 

Jon asks, "Who was that?" Frowning, I mumble, "I don't know. It's a robot sales pitch, probably. I ignore calls from those who won't identify themselves, don't you?" 

He mutters, "Yeah, of course." 

As I start the car, my phone rings again, and it's the same number on the caller ID. I look at Jon, shrug, and answer, "Hello?" It is Bruce! 

He says, "Zach, I only have a minute. Jesus Christ, finding a fucking pay phone is almost impossible. Um, my cell phone got crushed at the construction site two days ago. Remember this address... it's where I'm staying now and where I'll meet you tonight at five-thirty." He rattles off an address in Philly, and I'm like, "Wait! Why aren't you at your friend's place?" He sounds very rushed, saying, "I don't have time for this shit, Zach. Meet me at the address I gave you, and I'll explain everything then."

Jon stares at me, wondering what's going on, so I mouth, 'It's Bruce,' and he says, "Great, give me the phone!" Meanwhile, Bruce repeats the address and says, "I gotta go," and hangs up. 

I hold the phone out like, 'what the fuck?' and Jon takes it, saying, "Bruce?" I mumble, "He hung up, saying he had to go somewhere or... I don't know. He gave me a different address to meet him at, saying he'll explain when I see him." 

"Why didn't you tell him about Richard and, you know, all the shit we're going through?" I mumble, "He didn't give me a chance. It was a one-sided conversation."

He nods, then asks, "Do you remember the address?" I mutter, "Yeah. It's simple enough, 110 Broad Street." 

Jon says, "Hmm, maybe I'll go with you." As I pull away from the curb, I mumble, "Yeah, really? I was hoping you would, Jon." 

He points, saying, "Turn here; it's a quicker way to my apartment."

Obviously, I know where he lives as I've been there twice. His apartment is close to the lockers, not far from the dumpy apartment where Bruce did my training. I park on the street as close as I can to his place. We go in, and Peanut, wearing only red knee socks, his penis no more than three inches long, says, "Where you been, Scheyer? Gene showed up last night dealing candy for discount prices. Premium grass too for only... hey, why's this dipshit here?" 

Jon mumbles, "Go fuck yourself, Peanut, you're totally wasted again." Then to me, "C'mon, Zach, help me get my shit, and we'll get out of this dump. Peanut grabs my arm, grins at me, slurring his words, saying, "Um, hey dude, didn't I know you that time we were with that cunt, whatshername with the shaved head? You know, when they shut down, um, fuck, I forget what I was gonna say..." 

Pulling me into the bedroom Jon shares with Corndog, basically a large closet with a double bed and many hooks on the wall from which clothes are hanging—a wall bureau. Jon has a green trash bag he's using as a suitcase. Pulling clothes off hooks, he stuffs them in the bag. Then, handing me the bag, he mutters, "I'll get my toiletry shit, and we're out of here."

In the bathroom, he throws things into a small plastic bag with RITE AID printed on it. Into the bag go a stick of Mennen deodorant, Crest toothpaste, a Bic razor, a can of shaving cream, nail clippers, and whatever else. I stopped watching to look around in horror at the horrendous condition of the bathtub with its shower curtain hanging on two rings. How can people live like this? 

Jon chuckles and goes, "Look at this fucking thing." I glance over to see he's holding up a regular old-fashioned toothbrush. He says, "I'll bring it, but we'll continue sharing your electric toothbrush. I love that thing, ya know...?" 

I nod, "Uh-huh, swell." 

Goddammit, obviously, I'm going to need to buy another 'effing electric toothbrush! Who was the other guy that used my toothbrush? Hmm, it wasn't Danny, was it?" 

Jon is looking in the medicine cabinet over the sink. I'm impatient, mumbling, "Gee, you almost done, Jon? I can't get out of this pigsty fast enough." 

 "I had a brand new bottle of Tylenol and..." I cut him off, "Seriously, whatever you don't have in that bag by now, I'll buy new shit for you." He says, "Hey, this is where I live," and then he laughs, adding, "Yeah, let's get the fuck out of here."

As we head for the front door, Benny comes out of the bedroom; the one Jon fucked me in. "Hey, Scheyer, can ya lend me fifty bucks until Tuesday?" To my surprise, Jon stops and goes into his pocket. Benny is wearing the same jockey underwear I saw him wearing yesterday. Jon hands him one of the hundred-dollar bills I paid him with, saying, "Tuesday! I'm trusting you." Benny says, "Yeah, I'm working all weekend starting at two o'clock." 

Finally, we're outside. I take a deep breath, looking at Jon, and he mutters, "Don't ask. It's, um..." he shakes his head, and I leave it at that. When I got into the car, I felt like I needed a shower after spending time in Jon's apartment. I also feel bad he lives like that, but I'm sure he doesn't feel real good about it either. Kind of moping, I'm still feeling the humiliation of groveling for forgiveness from Richard and all his insulting comments about me. The arrogance of him... beyond belief!

Driving back to my apartment, we're both quiet. Jon may feel embarrassed that he needs to live like that, and I'm embarrassed about my wet-eyed humbling at Richard's office, so neither of us wants to talk about the last hour's events. It's about a twenty-minute drive to our college-type apartment. In silence, I came up with some small positives from my humbling by Richard. It's that even though he was dominant and confident like a motherfucker, I had no sexual reaction to it. The first time I met him, his persona and dominance got my dick hard as a rock, and hell, normally, any dominant guy will get my dick moving around in my jockey shorts, but not this morning with Richard. So, that's a good thing. That, and the fact I got what I wanted from him. Yeah, as pathetic as my performance was, this could be considered another victory over Richard. What a price to pay, though.

I should be wondering what's up with Bruce, but getting humbled by Richard and seeing up close Jon's horrendous living conditions are both too fresh in my mind at the moment. It's only eleven o'clock, so I've got the rest of the day to wonder about Bruce. Christ, I was missing Bruce like mad earlier in the week, then I met Jon, and since then, he's been on my mind more than Bruce. Jon has that mysterious something that resonates in me solidly. I'm as attracted to him as I am to Bruce, but I'm missing Bruce as well. Jesus, I'm fucked up.

In the apartment, Jon mutters, "I guess the guys are at the beach." I nod, "Uh-huh, ah, can I get anything for you, Jon?" 

He asks, "Is it okay if I make another cup of coffee?" 

"Of course! Please, be comfortable. Make yourself at home, seriously. I'm glad you're here, and, um, you can stay as long as you want. We'll buy a good cot when Bruce returns, and we'll take turns using it. Ya know, the three of us will share the bedroom." 

He looks shocked, "Really? You're serious?" 

"Yes, Cowboy won't mind. He's as easy-going a kid as you'll ever run into." 

Jon says, "I'm flabbergasted. Thank you, Zach, but once your training begins, I'm not sure all three of us living together will work." 

"Sure it will; Bruce and I will know you're the boss even after training hours." 

He mutters, "Hmm, yeah, maybe."

He makes a cup of coffee as I take the bedspread from the dryer and then put the sheets in it and get that going. Jon puts six or seven teaspoons of sugar in his coffee as I carry the bedspread, saying, "I'm going to make up our bed. Bruce was smart and insisted we buy two sets of sheets for all the beds." 

He nods, "Uh-huh, Bruce is organized."

With Bruce on my mind now, I make up the bed, doing it the way he does it, which is how we did it in the Navy. I'm satisfied there isn't a wrinkle in the fitted sheet; I make sure the top sheet is tight and wrinkle-free, too. Then, the blanket and bedspread. Perfect! It's too early for a beer, but this morning has been a bitch, so I get a beer and mumble, "Um, Jon, I'm not sure, ah, well, is it okay with you if I have a smoke on the balcony?" 

"I guess for now, but close the sliding doors behind you and use breath mints or something." I nod and take my beer and cigarette to the balcony, closing the sliding door. He doesn't want to smell the cigarette smoke or my ashtray breath. Swell. What the fuck? I'll cut down on my smoking to please Jon, but will Bruce be as big a pushover as me? 

Well, he won't have a choice because Jon is our mentor/trainer/leader. Bruce will need to do what he's told, just like I will. I get in a position so the breeze blows the exhaled cigarette smoke away from me and my clothes. I don't want to smell like a cigarette around Jon. Glancing back into the apartment, I see him at the kitchen counter drinking his coffee and thinking about, well, I wonder what he's thinking about? I feel as though I've known him for years when I actually hardly know anything about him at all. 

The beer and nicotine have me in a better mood, and why wouldn't I be in a better mood? I mean, we were successful with our Richard mission. Jon will be staying with me, and I know the time and place to meet Bruce. I'm glad that Jon is coming with me to Philly. All of that is good news. Sure, I'm ambivalent about being a pussy boy again, but I want to do it because this time it's with Bruce and Jon. I liked Bruce being my leader, and now Jon is a good leader for me as well. If the last three weeks of so-called training don't have any ridiculous frat house initiation-type humiliations, it might be fun doing it with Bruce beside me and Jon in charge. I consider them friends, and maybe someday they'll think of me that way.

After I've had my beer, I flick the cigarette and go inside, feeling a lot more optimistic about things than I did ten minutes ago. Jon is putting his coffee mug in the dishwasher, saying, "This is a handy appliance. Living at home, I took our dishwasher for granted, but after years without one, it seems a luxury to have one again." 

That's so sad, but he's grinning, so he's okay. I ask, "Um, this is awkward, but, ah, since you're staying here, um, do I still need to pay for your sexual services? Ya know, I will if you want, um..." 

He grins, "Holy fuck, I was thinking about that exact thing a few minutes ago."

Snorting out a chuckle, "What'd you decide, boss?" He shrugs as he's making a face, mumbling, "Well, it is my job, ya know?" 

"Uh-huh, and...?" It's Jon's turn to snort out a short laugh, then he goes, "I thought that if I give you a free fuck and let you suck me off each day, that might equal a cover for my room charge, and we'd all share the cost of the board; the food. Sexual favors after that, you'll pay for. Whaddaya think?" 

"Very fair! You got yourself a deal." He snickers, "You're so easy." 

Huh, that's what Bruce says, too.

Bumping his side, I say, "Of course, once a day isn't what Bruce trained me to think was enough." 

Jon nods, "Uh-huh, I was sort of thinking that's what you'd be thinking." 

Shrugging, I'm like, "So, then it's you're normal fee after the freebie, right?" He nods, "Yeah, um, plus a tip if I'm any good." 

That makes me laugh out loud, then mutter, "And we both know you're plenty good." He holds up his fist, and I bump it with mine as he says, "Zach, you're maybe the nicest guy I've ever known personally. Eli said you were, and he said Bruce told him the same thing, and they're both right." 

I mumble, "Hey, thanks." He says, "But during training, being likable is measured by how well you're performing with the training." 

"Yes, Jon, I know."

We needed food, so Jon came with me to the grocery store. I find out, haha, that he's no more adept at knowing what we should buy than I am. Bruce knows what he's doing domestically, which was necessary when we set up the apartment, but Jon and I bumble along going up and down the aisles. At least we have Cowboy, who cooks a little because he likes doing it and did it at home. Plus, Lee can grill and make breakfasts really well because he did it all the time for himself at his house, but I'm not talented at any of that stuff, and it's looking like Jon isn't either.

We see what's on the shelves and in the refrigerated areas, buying Cokes, lunch meats, hamburgers that are already formed, and American cheese with each piece in plastic wrap. Then, there are steaks and chicken, produce for salads, two kinds of bottled salad dressing, three different kinds of prepared potatoes, ears of corn, milk and cream, butter, white bread, and rolls. Jon goes, "This is fun, huh?" I look at him, assuming he's being sarcastic. He says, "Well, it is. Let's buy ice cream." 

As I push the cart to the frozen food section, I mumble, "I don't imagine there's much cooking done at your apartment, huh?" 

"Unfortunately, there's too much cooking going on there. Those animals will eat anything. Someone will make a big pot of spaghetti, add a sauce from a jar, and then eat it from the pot. Afterward, no one wants to clean up."

Jon splits the cost of the groceries with me using the money I paid him for sex, I assume. Then, back at the apartment, we make thick ham and cheese sandwiches with tomato slices on bulky rolls and eat them, sharing a bag of potato chips. Jon eats noisily with his mouth open, which isn't cool. That's the first thing about him I don't find attractive. 

Well, he's not very good-looking either, but I don't care; I like his face. He has very smooth pale skin and those pouty bow-shaped lips like Cowboy's, plus white teeth that I see a lot of because I can't stop staring at him. I'm so attracted to him; it makes me feel dizzy. I think it's love. It took longer to fall in love with Bruce, although I was captivated by him right off the bat.

Jon swallows some Coke, then says, "Stop staring at me; you're making me self-conscious." 

That's what Bruce is always telling me, too. It's their youthfulness that's so attractive. I mumble, "Sorry, Jon. I'm very attracted to you; that's what it is." 

He says, "There was a guy I worked the streets with who said the same thing to me. You and he are the only two guys I've met in my entire life who feel that way. So, I guess, thanks, but being attracted to me will make it more awkward for you when we get into the training program, and I need to discipline you." 

Ignoring that, I ask, "Will you do me a big favor and let me have my sex freebies as soon as we finish lunch?" 

He says, "I don't want to be a hard-ass about it, but I am a hard-ass, so it'll be me who will decide when you get the freebies. You can decide when you want me to provide you sex as long as you're paying for it." 

Nodding, I swallow and say, "Okay, that's fair. I'd like to hire your sex services right now if that's okay with you." 

He says, "Let me finish my lunch." 

"Of course, but after lunch, is it alright with you if we get naked and I suck you off; then, when you recharge your batteries, you fuck me on all fours while walking me around the room the way you did it yesterday?" 

"You're the client, so you get to choose, but I'd expect a nice tip for that walking-on-all-fours fuck. That takes some extra energy from me." 

I nod, "Of course."

I stare at him as he finishes his sandwich. Jon is still making smacking sounds with his open mouth as he chews. He has very narrow eyebrows and longish eyelashes that curve up. Taking a potato chip, he says, "You're staring at me again." 

Squeezing my junk, I mutter, "I know... sorry." He has shiny hazel-colored eyes, but they're too far apart. Finishing my sandwich, I ask, "Is it okay with you if I spend a hundred bucks kissing you?" 

He snickers, then looks at me, mumbling, "A hundred bucks gets you five kisses. Well, only four if you want me to participate." 

I nod, "Uh-huh, I think I'll go with the four. I'd really like you to kiss back." He says, "Okay, do you wanna do that before you suck me off or after? If it's after, you'll need to brush your teeth first." 

"I'm going to brush my teeth right now. Does that count?"

He snorts out a laugh, mumbling, "You're crazy, you know that?" 

Standing up, I go, "Fuck brushing my teeth; I want one of those kisses right now." 

He says, "The twenty-five-dollar variety or the twenty?" Grinning, I go, "Twenty-five, if that's okay with you." 

He mutters, "The customer is always right, um, sometimes," and he stands, motioning for me to come to him, which I do. Jon's five or six inches shorter than me, and I like that. Bruce is almost as tall as me, so this is a cool change. I rub my hand over his closely cropped hair, which feels just like mine. Then, my forearms rest on his slim shoulder as I lean my head down to rub my nose with him and then kiss him. Jon kisses back deliciously. He reaches up to hold my head between his hands, and for someone who claims guys don't kiss, he seems an excellent kisser. He actually takes over the kiss, turning it into a tongue-sliding sloppy kiss with our mixed saliva drooling down both our chins.

It only lasts for maybe five seconds but was worth the twenty-five dollars. My cock is poking out the front of my shorts, which Jon assumed it would be, and without looking down, he squeezes it, and my face scrunches up as I go, "Mmm, ooh, Jon." It was just a quick squeeze, but it sent a sexy shiver up my back. He mumbled, "Did you get your twenty-five dollars worth?" Taking a deep breath, I murmur, "With you, I always get my money's worth. Thank you, Jon." 

Christ, after that, I feel as if I'm going to cum in my pants. Yeah, I'd feel disloyal to Bruce doing this stuff with Jon, except Bruce won't care one way or another. He doesn't think of me the way I think of him, and obviously, neither does Jon.

We leave the plates and an open bag of potato chips on the table as Jon puts a hand on the back of my neck, guiding me into the bedroom. Without squeezing my neck, he says, "It's hard to resist squeezing your neck tightly, but I promised I wouldn't, so I won't." 

"Yes, I've found that the best promises are the ones that are kept." In the bedroom, Jon holds out his hand, and I go, "What? You don't trust me?" 

He says, "Pussy boys do not offer credit. We're like insurance companies; we get paid in advance." 

"Okay. Let's see, fifty for sucking you off, a hundred for a fuck, and then four kisses with you participating is another hundred." 

"Plus a tip." I mutter, "I'm out of money, but I know where to get some."
Jon looks at me blankly, and I say, "I'll be right back." Hustling, I go down to my BMW, open the trunk, put two thousand dollars in fifties and hundreds in my pocket, and am back in front of Jon in four minutes. He gives me a look. like, "Well?" I give him three hundred dollars, and he mutters, "You're getting a bargain." 

Grinning, "Yeah, you're basically giving it away." As we quickly strip, I ask, "Hypothetically speaking, before Bruce and I become your trainees, if I hired both of you to service me at the same time, would you each get half?" 

He says, "Get serious! In that situation, and once in a while, a client will want two pussy boys at the same time; each gets the full fee." 

"Wow, that'd be expensive! Yeah, but you two would be worth it." 

We get naked, and he adjusts his chubby cock, saying, "That's not going to happen, though. I couldn't do your training properly while maintaining a camaraderie-type relationship with you or Bruce. Ya, see, I intend to be strict with both of you, so there will probably be times when you two trainees will be hating on me, but that's unavoidable." 

I shrug, "I can't imagine hating on you, Jon. Ah, how about after you've trained the shit out of Bruce and me... what will our relationship be then."

He cups my balls and squeezes slightly, saying, "Steady, Zach, you'll get used to the feel of my hand." 

I nod and ask again, "How about after we qualify as your pussy boys?" 

He says, "I'm always going to be at a higher level than you and Bruce. This time we're having together for a couple of weeks is the only time you'll be almost my equal. Even now, I'm in charge, and you're basically going to do what you're told because that's, um, that's how you're wired, right?" 

Nodding, I go, "Yes, I know you're in charge." 

He lets go of my balls, adding, "We'll have a little closer relationship after I qualify you to represent me as one of my escort boys, but you need to think of it this way: you and Bruce will be my employees, and I'll be your boss."

"How does someone become as confident as Jon? I can't imagine having the balls to come right out, looking right at someone, and telling them they'll always be inferior to me."

Jon makes a face, displeased with something, and reaches over, pulling my hand away from my privates. I didn't realize I was playing with myself, but he told me that he'd always be superior to me, and he said it so dominantly it got me turned on hearing him explain the facts of pussy boy life to me. He says, "In case you're wondering, as your main man, I'll be rewarding my good-earning boys. You'll be a good one, so I'll still be fucking you and letting you suck and rim me from time to time as a reward for you making me money. Obviously, the sex with me won't cost you a dime when you're a good earner." 

I mutter, "Oh, great," knowing I'm not going to be a good earner.
Patting my bare ass, he says, "It usually takes a week or two before a trainee falls in love with his mentor/trainer, but you're already in love with me."

"I know, Jon, with Bruce, too."

He says, "It won't get you special treatment from me. Okay, are you ready?" 

Nodding, I follow him to the bed. He gets on it, saying, "Get a big bath towel. We'll try doing this without you needing to rewash the bedspread. 

"Yes, Jon." Christ, as I walk to the bathroom, my heart beats too fast, and my cock is already stiff enough to list off to the side. Jon turns me on more than Bruce, yet I can't wait to see Bruce. I didn't expect this to happen, this infatuation I have for Jon. When I saw him in the locker room, sure, I liked his size and his resemblance to Lee, but after our sex in that dumpy apartment, I had no inclination I'd be falling for him eight hours later. I only went back that night because it was the most convenient way to get my rocks off.

Yeah, then we came here, and he had the normal pussy boy confidence during our first fuck. Still, he took the confidence up a notch afterward and then another notch, becoming bossier and dominant when recognizing that I was letting him get away with it. That's when I started really noticing him, and my feelings for him took off. They haven't stopped building yet, and I'm at a point where, as crazy as it sounds, even to me... I think I'm in love with him, too.  

I see one of Lee's beach towels in the linen closet. It's big, so I bring that back to the bed. Jon mumbles, "Perfect," and pulls his legs back so hard his back is curved like a gymnast, which brings his asshole into view. I lick my lips as I push the end of the towel under him. He drops his legs, and I crawl up on the bed, my dick fairly stiff. On my knees between his legs, I glance at Jon. He nods at his junk, and I grin at him. He rolls his eyes 'cause he isn't into boyfriend feelings as I am, and neither was Bruce at first. Lately, Bruce has been pretending we're boyfriends to humor me.

Using my thumb and forefinger, I pick up his penis and bend over to lick it, then suck on the head, tasting urine for just an instant. Just a quick taste of piss, then there isn't any taste at all. Using my finger and thumb, I stroke the chubby shaft while licking and sucking the head, then stop stroking it and use my fingers to move his cock around inside my mouth, pushing the head against my cheek and then over the ridges on the roof of my mouth to my other cheek while making sure the shaft is sliding on my smooth, warm wet tongue. Jon goes, "Umm," and lifts his ass off the bed for a second as he rubs my head, moaning, "Umm," again.

Covering my teeth with my lips, I begin bobbing up and down on his cock. I bob up to the neck and then all the way down until my nose is pressed into his hairless pubic area, and then do it over and over for almost a minute. Obviously, he's recently used the MAN cream, as there isn't a hint of pubic hair. His groin is as hairless as a newborn babe.

I've got his cock into pretty good boner status now, so I take it from my mouth and watch it go tightly up against his belly. Oh, boy, now I really get into licking his roundish, perfectly hairless scrotum. Licking, licking, licking, then moving each of his nuts with my tongue before lifting his whole set of balls, scrotum and all, and Jon goes, "Aaah, aah," and squirms with both his hands on the back of my head holding my face against his crotch area. He could save himself the trouble because I have no intentions of moving my face away from his delicious-smelling cock and balls.

With my nose rubbing against his pubic area and then over his saliva-wet boner, I lick the inside of his leg next to his balls and then lick down halfway to his knee; his body's scent is driving me crazy with desire. Nature gave him the gift of sexy-smelling skin, sweet and sexy like nothing I've encountered before in my life. Yes, Bruce smells good, too, but Jon's skin smells even better and sexier. I can't describe the smell... it's Jon's scent, that's all. Plus, the skin all over his body is like the skin on his face. It's pale and smooth without so much as a freckle or tiny blemish. It's so taut and perfect; it's somewhat hard to believe, actually. 

He taps my skull, murmuring, "Just a second," then gets an arm around both his legs pulling them back the way he did five minutes ago, and with his back curved, his asshole comes into view again. He does that easily; I think again that he has a skinny but very hot gymnast's body.  I don't mean skinny as if his ribs show. Sure, I can count them with a finger, but they don't show. What shows is the appropriate amount of muscle tone, almost subtly.

With his asshole looking at me, I can't resist licking up his short ass crack, then stopping to press my tongue on his asshole. Yep, right on his rosy-colored tight anus, pushing against the tight lips of his clean asshole. I almost wish it wasn't so immaculate. Just a hint of his excrement on my tongue would be like a firecracker going off in my head, leaving no doubt that I'm licking his ass, and licking a guy's asshole intensifies my submissive sense. 

Yeah, just a hint of it would be like that brief taste of urine I noticed with the first lick on the head of his dick. Oh yeah, that announced in my head, yeah, that's right, you're sucking a guy's penis that he pisses through, and had it up guys' asses too. It gives authenticity to a cock sucking submissive like me the same way a quick hint of his shit would intensify the fact I'm an ass-rimming submissive, which would get me further aroused. Jon's too clean, though, and that makes me wish I had an opportunity to suck his cock and lick his asshole after one of those days he spent on the street whoring for Eli. That'd be something to experience! 

Yeah, but right now, my cock is so hard it's straight out from my body, feeling heavy as it bobs and sways slightly when I move to do long licks on each of Jon's butt cheeks, continuing the licks down his ass crack and over his asshole. Umm, so sexy, and now I'm sucking on his asshole lips, getting them to loosen up while in the background, I hear Jon's pleasure moans as he squirms on the bed, which is causing the towel to bunch up under his lower back. 

As I said, I get aroused by his scent, and when I add to that the deeply submissive nature of this oral sex, it's a miracle I haven't climaxed already. My climax has been creeping up on me and gaining power by the second, and Jon's moans are getting more desperate sounding, plus he's tensing the muscles around his groin. Oh no, I lick up past the edge of his scrotum and see his boner almost sticking out as straight as mine. I grab it and get my mouth on it as Jon goes, "Ahhh, oooh..." and blows a hard stream of cum off the roof of my mouth that splatters all around in there, and then I've got the head in my throat as he sort of humps his hips again. Hmm, I don't know if he shot cum down my throat, but Omigod, my climax is on me! I barely get his cock out in time to screech like an old lady as a mouse runs up her leg. Cum blasts out as I shake while shooting a long streak of cum hitting Jon's belly button, some of it splattering back on me.

In a sexual frenzy, I lick my own cum off Jon's stomach and suck out remnants from the creases of his belly button. He's going, "Ohh, fuck..." pushing at my head until I calm down enough to back off and grab my cock, then squeeze bubbles of cum out left behind after the big bang. 

Jon mutters, "Jesus, Zach, with your enthusiasm for sex, you're going to make a lot of money on the street. I never knew anyone who gets into it as enthusiastically as you do. And you're this good even before you learn all the secret techniques of giving men pleasure in ways clients never expect." 

Still aroused, I get ballsy and lie on him, the side of my face against his, hugging his gymnast body, cum squishy between us. He pushes at me roughly, saying, "For fuck sake, get it together. Get off me! You got your money's worth already." 

Rolling off him, I stroke my cock a few times, murmuring, "You must have made a lot of money for Eli, too, being so desirable and sexy." 

He says, "Not as much as you think. Not everyone is content with my undersized cock. Mostly I was bottoming and doing oral sex and rimming guys in the back seat of cars and then in hotel rooms when I earned the right to be an online pussy boy. I did the bottom boy stuff pretty well but didn't like it very much. I wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as you are as a bottom or a top, for that matter. I've never been half as enthusiastic as you are about sex."

Looking at him for a second, ignoring everything he said, I happily mutter, "I'll have another twenty-five-dollar kiss now." 

He goes up on an elbow, then leans down, giving me a lesser version of his first kiss, but it was still pretty fucking good. Lying back down, he says, "You're already a pretty good bottom boy, but you need skills as a top as well. As I mentioned to you, it's convenient to have two of you in training. You'll perfect your topping skills with Bruce as your bottom." 

See, Jon goes right back to business matters as if the oral sex and kiss meant nothing to him. Well, it meant a hundred-and-twenty-five dollars to him.

Bruce my bottom, though? I'm like, "What if he doesn't want to be my bottom boy?"

Jon laughs, then mutters, "You're being funny, right? Bruce will do what I say the same as you. Now, get the MAN creme. It'd be just like Richard to have me bring you back in this afternoon to verify I followed his orders to MAN creme you." 

"Yes, Jon." 
I get the hair-dissolving creme, and then it's a most delightful time feeling Jon's hand spreading the creme on me in all the right places. He says, "Lift your arms so I can get the underarm hair." 

"Bruce said I didn't need to eliminate the underarm hair 'cause I don't have much of it." 

He stares at me for a few seconds, and I slowly lift my arms, mumbling, "But Bruce isn't my trainer now; you are." 

He wipes MAN creme under my arms, rolling his eyes at me, like... duh! He says, "Lift your legs and spread your butt cheeks." I do that, and he wipes creme around my anus, muttering, "Keep your legs up for five minutes. Spread them now." He uses lots of creme around my cock and balls, all over my scrotum, and then circles my cock with his hand pulling up, mumbling, "Just in case there's a random hair on your dick." After creaming my legs, he heads for the bathroom to wash his hands, saying over his shoulder, "Stay like that until I get back." My legs spread, my feet in the air; I hear him pissing and then washing his hands.

Damn, I'd love to play with his piss!

Back in the bedroom, he mumbles, "I've got your cum on me again, so we'll need to shower, but first, you get in the shower and wash off the creme and tiny amount of hair growth, then we'll have another lesson on how pussy boys bathe clients in the shower." 

Oh, boy!

In the shower, I use a washcloth and bath gel to wash off the MAN creme energetically, then wash all over, including shampooing my head. Thoroughly rinsing, I get out and dry myself before walking back to the bedroom, shiny, clean, and totally hairless except for the quarter-inch hair on my head. It all feels terrific. too. Jon's sitting naked at my desk texting. Looking up, he goes, "I just texted Richard that you've been MAN creamed, but he hasn't texted back, so that's good. I half expected him to tell me to bring you right back to the lockers for inspection."

I don't know why he'd think that. Richard said he didn't want to ever see or hear about me again. By now, though, I've learned that saying less gets me in less trouble, so I don't mention that. Jon gets up, mumbling, "Let me check you out, though, just to be safe." 

I stand at attention, and he picks up my dick, looking closely, murmuring, "Good," and then rubs his hand on my chest and stomach where I don't have hair even without the MAN creme, but he doesn't know that. He has me raise my arms and then bend over and spread my butt cheeks. He smacks my ass, muttering, "Good, you're good to go. Helluva body, too. Excellent." 

Christ, that made me feel good! Jon praising me... awesome!

Jon wants me to practice the pussy boy bathing technique for clients, so we're in the shower again with me following his instructions, starting with shampooing his almost hairless head. Remembering last night and how it hurt when he'd hit my boner's head, I don't spring a boner until I'm bathing his chest, standing behind him with my junk pressing against his back just above his hot buttocks. I feel my penis growing and getting harder and harder until my cock is a steel rod. I know what's coming, and then it comes. Jon casually twists around and flicks two fingers at the head, the fingernails hard, and I screech out, "OW! Ah, ow, shit," and my dick is quickly flaccid again.

Concentrating on not springing another boner takes a lot away from the thrill of rubbing my hands on his hot gymnast body. Then, Jon is displeased when I finish, saying, "Goddammit, you did that worse than the first time!" He adds, "Start from the beginning and do it all again." 

We only get to the part where I'm kneeling doing his legs when the hot water gives out, and it's only cold now. He mutters, "Fuck! Okay, stop..." We get out, and I start to dry him, but he grabs the towel, mumbling, "I'll do it."

In the bedroom getting dressed, he says in a calmer voice, "It's good we have this time to work on things. As you know, Bruce has been through all the training courses and will be much better at everything than you because of that. You'd be left behind, so that's why I'm trying to get you a little closer to his experience level using this gift of two to three weeks. And I still need to work in the locker room. I'm hoping Richard will let me out of that commitment so I can spend the time helping you get up to speed. I mean, shit, with you as my paying client, the minimum wage Richard is paying me is chicken feed." 

I mumbled, "Thank you for helping me with this pretraining, and I'm gonna definitely be your client, um, regularly." 

He actually smiles at me for once and then pats my shoulder, murmuring, "Yeah, well, I know that. I'm surprised but glad you've accepted your fate so well. Plus, I can tell you're trying to please me, so I'm happy to help you with the early  training." 

Oh, I got that friendly smile from him! Well, he said he likes me. So do Bruce and Eli, so I feel really fucking good about that. I wasn't sure they did, but it was not until Jon told me straight out that they did. He's a manipulative person, but he speaks his mind, and I believe he is transparent about all pussy boy-related matters, so I pretty much know where I stand.

He gets a Coke from the refrigerator, saying, "I need about an hour of private time to work out a plan for how to approach this pre-training for you. So, find something to occupy yourself with." 

I ask, "Is it okay if I have a cigarette and a beer on the balcony while getting some sun out there?" 

He gets an aggravated 'look' on his face, then says, "If you must smoke, have one, but forget about the beer. I'm not sure what we'll be doing later." Unable to resist, I squeezed my junk because that was perfect dominance. Natural dominance from Jon about a casual matter, and he said it dismissively as if that's that. I manage to say, "Yes, Jon," and go out on the deck, grinning to myself, my dick hard in my pants.

Lighting a cigarette, then taking a deep drag the way Bruce does it, I shake my head, knowing I have a psychological disorder. It's not normal behavior the way I get aroused being bossed around, especially by someone nine years younger than me. The bossing me around part could result from losing Ronny, who bossed me around for fifteen years, and I'm also probably missing the discipline I experienced in the Navy Seals for four years. Yeah, I know, amateur self-analysis isn't worth much.

As for the nine-years-younger part, that might be my subconscious attraction to Cowboy and Lee. I say subconscious because, consciously, I'd never do anything to intrude on their relationship. Sure, I was fucking Cowboy regularly for two months, but that was at his insistence. And I only began thinking of him as more than Ronny's little brother a few days before meeting Richard. I was beginning to think maybe Cowboy and I might become something more than buddy-sex partners. Then Cowboy discovered Lee, and I fell for Bruce, and everything changed. 

None of that changes the fact that I'm not right in the head. I've admitted before that I need professional help. I need to regularly see a therapist or psychiatrist—somebody to help me understand myself, or however they would phrase it. Psychoanalyze me, figure out reasons for my behavior, whatever the hell that entails. I thought I'd do that at age forty, but now I don't believe I can wait that long. Still, maybe it would be better if I have a couple more years of my behavior for the therapist to analyze, ya know? Heh-heh. Yep, the extra years of behavior concept is copout bullshit; I know that. It's rationalizing, but I'm going with it for a while.

Finishing my cigarette, I went inside for my sunglasses, then opened the refrigerator. Jon looks over at me, and I hold up a can of Coke. He goes back to his laptop, and I go out on the balcony again. That was cool. Jon checked to make sure I wasn't getting a beer. Because of him, I'll cut back on smoking and day drinking, which will be good for me, although not any fun. As I thought with Bruce, I don't believe the concept of fun plays a big part in Jon's life, if at all. I mean, Jon thought he had fun grocery shopping. I guess because he never has any fun, he doesn't know what fun is. Those two should join me on the psychiatrist's couch. We're all fucked up, although considering their histories, they have a legitimate reason for being fucked up. What's my excuse?

I doze off outside on the chaise lounge and come awake with a jolt when Jon touches my shoulder, saying, "We've got three hours before we need to leave for Philly. Let's relax on the beach for an hour or so." 

Jumping up, "Oh, great, sure!" Well, he wasn't asking if I wanted to do that as he already had his swimsuit on, a very old one. He rubs my shoulder, mumbling, "I'm still getting used to how big and studly you are, Zach." Patting my back, he adds, "Hurry up now, get your swim trunks on and bring whatever we need. It's been a while since I've been on the beach to do, um, well, nothing except relaxing."

Putting on a swimsuit, then getting sunscreen and a bath towel, still wearing my shades, I say, "When we get there, I'll rent us a couple of beach chairs, and we'll be all set." 

It's a twenty-minute ride back to the boardwalk and beach, followed by a two-minute walk to the rental booth. Markie almost smiles when he sees me; then, he frowns at Jon. He's probably wondering if I've got a new boyfriend after coming to the beach with Bruce eight or nine times.

"Hiya doing, hotshot?" He says, "Your other friends are back." 

"And how would you know that since you claimed you didn't know who they were when I asked you that time..." 

He cuts me off, mumbling, "I lied that time. They have an umbrella. Do you want two beach chairs?" I say, "Yes, that's it exactly," and go to plop a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, then remember I don't have any. "Do you have change for a fifty?'

He does, of course, but Markie appears unsure about Jon, so he gives us two of the old chairs. Picking up a chair in each hand, I say to Markie, "I'll see you later, buddy." Jon takes a chair from me and asks, "Where to?" Nodding to where the boys probably are, we trudge through the sand in our sandals, glad to have them on because the sand is hot. 

Walking up behind Lee, who's sitting under the umbrella, his chair right next to Cowboy's, I rub his head. He turns around smiling, saying, "Hi, Zach. Hey, Jon." Cowboy's smoking a cigarette. He looks back and goes, "Oh, man. I was hoping you'd bring something cold to drink, bro." 

Jon and I set our chairs up outside the umbrella as I said, "I'm happy to go up to the boards and get drinks. Whaddaya want to drink?" 

Cowboy mumbles, "Nah, I'll go. I wanna get the real lemonade they make in that booth on the next block. They squeeze the lemons right in front of you." Lee says, "I'll go with you, Cowboy." Jon holds up a twenty-dollar bill from last night, saying, "I'll treat. Ice-cold lemonade sounds good." 

Lee looks at Cowboy to see if he should take the twenty from Jon. Cowboy shrugs and nods, so Lee takes it, saying, "Thanks, Jon," and off they go. I expected a smirk or something from Jon since that twenty was for last night's kiss, but he did not react. As far as he's concerned, they're his twenties, and they are, but...oh, hell, I don't know, it could have been a shared secret chuckle, that's all. And he says I'm the one with no sense of humor, ha!

He looks after Cowboy and Lee, then turns to me, saying, "They're my contemporaries; we're all nineteen, but to me, they seem like children. And I meant no offense by that at all. Hell, it must be nice to be so innocent; I'm jealous, I suppose." 

I nod, "Yeah, I feel as though I'm closer to their age than what I perceive your age to be considering your maturity level, and I mean no offense by that."

He shakes his head slightly, then mumbles, "I don't believe you realize it, but you say things that could easily be taken as smartass remarks. You'll do well to watch yourself in that regard when training starts. Save your smartass remarks for when you're working the streets. Not when you're with your mentor, who will be the main man you answer to after graduating." 

He said that in almost a monotone. There was no vitriol in his voice, but I felt a chilling spike of submissiveness zip around my nuts, so I murmured, "I'm sorry, Jon. but I wasn't being a smartass. I wish the hell I was as mature as you are, that's all... really."

He says, "No problem."  

I keep my mouth shut and settle for being quiet and staring at the side of Jon's face and body. I just realized that he doesn't do the chairs thing; the ones we're sitting in need to be right next to each other, as Bruce insists. I like Bruce's way because our arms are touching. Oh, fuck, how mature is that? Jesus!

As I stare at him, I think it's interesting how Jon, like Bruce, can be perfectly still and quiet and appear totally comfortable with that, while other times they're jittery, antsy, as Jon was when we had those things to do this morning. I wonder what that means if anything. After a couple of minutes, I say, "Um, Jon, excuse me, but are you mad at me?" 

Turning his head to look at me, he says, "No." Nodding, I shrug, and he continues looking at me, so I go, "Oh, good, um..." His head turns forward, looking at what? The seemingly endless Atlantic Ocean... maybe seeing eternity.

Fuck, he's making me nervous, then I hear Lee's cheerful voice telling Cowboy, "Oh, yeah, I'd love that, Cowboy. What kind will you get?" 

It sounds strange hearing Lee say Cowboy after calling him Carson for weeks. Cowboy says, "I was thinking about a Mini Cooper, except they're not good in the snow. So, something that's good in the snow." 

They're each carrying big 32-ounce take-out cups of lemonade. Lee gives one to me and the other to Jon, saying, "Cowboy's buying a car to take to Yale with him. He's going to drive it to see me at Notre Dame a couple of times during the first semester." 

Cowboy gives one of the lemonades he's holding to Lee, saying, "It's only a ten-hour road trip. It'll be fun." 

After taking two big swallows of lemonade, I say, "Are you sure freshmen are allowed to have cars at Yale?" 

He shrugs and sits down, muttering, "No, but I'll get around that. Anyway, I'm not living on campus, so they can go fuck themselves with that no car for freshmen rule, um, if they have that rule." 

Jon has an incredulous expression on his face, and I'm guessing it's probably because he finds this conversation inconceivably frivolous and, well, inconceivable. That's just a guess because of the life he's led. In any case, he has nothing to say about it. 

Later, both Lee and Cowboy get those incredibly annoying computer solicitation calls that try to con you into giving some vital credit card information by lying about a big charge posted on your account. They tell the sucker who believes them to press 1 for the security department. Cowboy goes, "How stupid do they think we are? The Internet is getting scary. This shit is getting out of hand. They want to steal our identity." 

Lee says, "Way back before the Internet got humming along, Phillip Agre predicted dire happenings if strict laws weren't enacted to control it." 

Haha, Lee refers to the Internet as if it were invented WAY back in the 1960s or something instead of the early 1990s. That's when a few used it, soon to be used by the hundreds of millions.... by terrorists too, and anyone on this planet.  It's been around all Lee's life, though, which is mostly all he cares about. Cell phones, too. 

Hell, I could almost say the same about myself. I had a PC when I was seven. It was not like the ones now, but it was a PC. Plus, I had a cell phone at prep school, so I shouldn't be making fun of Lee. Anyway, Lee's a brainiac and probably knows much more about the history of the Internet than I do.

Lee, in his sweet way, somehow gets Jon talking. And, oh God, it's about one of Lee's random sixteen million interests, in this case, UFOs. And jeez, it's apparently right in Jon's limited areas of interest outside of the pussy boy organization. I'm glad to see he's interested in something else. They're talking about a government coverup involving area Area 54 where aliens were examined and... blah, blah, blah.

Cowboy and I are talking about what car he should buy. I don't know about cars, although that doesn't stop me from advising him to buy an expensive, flashy car because it impresses the bar pick-up dudes. Cowboy says, "Yeah, but, bro, get serious; you know I've never had to pick up a guy in my life." 

"Never, huh?" He says, "Nope, and now I'm all about Lee's sex anyway." 

Two lucky young lucky fuckers!

At three-thirty, Jon goes, "We better get going, Zach." Hmm, we have two hours before meeting Bruce. Twenty minutes to the apartment, and it's an hour's drive to Philly, which leaves forty minutes to do what? I'm hoping it's to give me my sex freebie for today!

To be continued...