My summer of sex with Cowboy

Chapter 36

To me, the submissive/dominant sex dynamic is a game, one Jon is terrific at, by the way, although I don't believe he sees it as a game. The relatively few guys I've run into who have challenged big cities' mean streets as prostitutes and managed to rise above their situation by hooking up (no pun intended) with a well-paying version of their previous deplorable lifestyle become extremely confident young men with serious in-charge-type personalities. They have a combination of inborn capabilities and hard-won big balls.

They have no conscience about manipulating the shit out of you whenever they can. They're dominant types who never doubt themselves about much of anything. I'm speaking specifically about a certain type of gay male prostitute, although there are many individuals of this type in the straight world as well. 

It's the gay ones, though, that intrigue me greatly, fascinate me, and have often had their way with me. Much to my delight, I should add.

It's been about two months now that I've been exposing myself to this type of individual, paying them a lot of money to spend ten minutes or an hour with me. Lately, after rediscovering my submissive nature, I find I'm becoming addicted to dominated sexual experiences. Most of my experiences in this regard have been short, intense ones that leave me breathlessly satisfied, and then we both go on our way. There are two exceptions to that, though. One is Bruce, and the other is my current paid-for pussy boy prostitute, Jon Scheyer.

There is a physical appearance reason these two stand out and, obviously, sexual reasons, but most of the reasons I am very much attracted to them are subconscious ones. With both of them, I continually ask myself: Why am I so enamored of this skinny young man? Why aren't I able to resist them? Why don't I WANT to resist them?

After the sub/dom sex with these two, I then carry over a lot of my submissiveness during the regular activities we engage in. They boss me around in a friendly but stern and confident manner while seeing nothing unusual about that. I need to go back to my prep school days to recall a similar experience with a dominant eleventh-grader. I rarely do hard drugs, but being submissive to these two dominant young men has an effect on me that a hard drug would have... I'm addicted to it. 

I can't resist getting thrillingly 'off' in a sexual manner, from being submissive to Bruce and Jon, especially in sexual matters. Sure, there is a point where it's too much, and I'll exert myself to bring the proceedings to a temporary halt. I try to avoid doing that. I can get away with that because I'm a tough guy capable of doing physical harm if I choose to. Still, they're clever, and when they perceive they've gone too far, they always back off momentarily, waiting for an opportunity to regain control and be in charge again because, well, that's what they covet; it's what they know how to do.

An example happened a few minutes ago when I rejected Jon's order not to smoke. I ignored him and went out on the balcony to smoke, and, of course, Jon followed me, claiming he was joking when he said that. He said I obviously could smoke a disgusting cigarette any fucking time I felt like it. He was merely concerned with my health and blah, blah, blah. 

We both recognized that as bullshit. I've had experience with dominant guys like Jon and know what to expect. After smoked my cigarette, I flicked the butt away, and we talked nicely while drinking our drinks. Jon had a rum and Coke, and I was drinking beer. When I wanted to go to bed, Jon shook his head and said he'd decide when we'd do that. See, he retook charge of the situation, and since I'd already had my little victory, I went back to enjoying Jon's dominance. 

As we talked, little by little, Jon got on top of me again. In the beginning, I could have resisted, except that wasn't any fun, so I let him continue until I could feel my balls buzzing sexually, and that felt too good to resist. It's sexual to grovel in my submissiveness, accepting young Jon as dominant. So, we're back got in our proper roles, and another delicious submissive sense began to build in me higher and higher; plus, I'm anxiously anticipating my reward for being good, which is Jon fucking me up good before we go to sleep. 

When he decided it was bedtime, Jon reached up, gripping the back of my neck extra hard, and said, "Let's go recruit." He won't fuckin' give up on the recruit shit because, like Bruce, the pussy boy organization gave him more status than they'd ever hoped to have. Still, he wants me to agree to something that's insane, and why would I ever get back involved with that craziness? 

Yeah, Jon's only about five-feet-seven and needs to reach up to grip the back of my neck, but he's a strong little fucker, and gripping my neck as hard as he can get me hunching over, grumbling, "Ow, Jon, c'mon, that hurts, man." 

He doesn't need to reach up much now as I'm hunched down to his height, which was his intention. He slides open the balcony's glass doors, pushing me inside, saying, "What's your problem, Zack? Is there no pleasing you? You wanted to get to bed, and now that's what we're doing." 

He doesn't let up, "You don't know what you want, do you? You act docilely submissive and then pull that macho shit on me a while ago. What am I supposed to think? I'll just be myself, and you can like it or not."

My hand is up, trying to pry one of his fingers loose, mumbling, "I'm sorry, Jon. I don't know, um, it can't go all your way, right?" 

I don't need to go over this again, but he knows, and I know that I could break his wrist or his whole arm in less than a second, and then that would be the end of him gripping the back of my neck. It would also be the end of our relationship, which I don't want to end. It would also be unfair of me because it's not how the game is played. If he's playing the game, the submissive dope, me, needs to let the dominant player, Jon, be dominant regardless of who is the strongest.

In the bedroom, Jon says in a conversational manner, "You brought this on yourself, Zach," as he squeezes extra hard, then lets go of my neck, mumbling, "It was unfair of you to use your scary demeanor about the smoking a while ago. Big bad you, twice my size and ten times as strong." 

I shrug, "No, it wasn't fair, but I just wanted a short break. I'd never hurt you even though you're prone to going a little overboard with your neck squeezing. It's one thing if I'm actually your recruit and another thing when I'm your client, and we're doing sub/dom sex. Um, which you're very adept at, by the way."

He nods his head once, then murmurs, "Get over here." Hmm, I take the two steps it takes to 'get over here,' then he says, "I'm sorry for overdoing gripping your neck so hard," and he wraps his arms around me, hugging a little, mumbling, "We'll start fresh now, okay?" 

I can't pass up this chance to hug the shit out of him, lifting him off the floor and kissing the top of his head. I really do like him, and I still can't figure out why that is. He says, "Okay, that's cool, Zach." I hug him some more and kiss the side of his face as he's struggling now, saying, "That's enough! I'm not into making out with guys. Guys are good to fuck, but they do not make out like cunts." 

Dropping him to the floor and taking my arms away, I mutter, "Unless you're getting paid to do it, right?" He makes a face as if I'm an idiot, then says, "Dude, get serious... that's not making out! It is me allowing you to kiss me for money. It's my job." 

"I guess." He does an exasperated-sounding noisy exhale, then says,  "Okay, we need to start over again. We'll try it a third time." 

That makes me grin, "Let me start our third time." He raises his eyebrows, and I say cheerfully, "Here goes my third attempt. Um, well, Jon, I like the haircut you did for me. Um, and you're as good, or better than any dominant top who's ever fucked me. So, what should we do now?" 

He rubs his hand over his face and mutters, "Yeah, okay, that'll do. Get undressed." I get undressed stupidly fast, kicking my shorts off. In a serious manner, he says, "I want to give you a really good fuck tonight for your hundred bucks, but you keep screwing around like, um, like some dork. You're not a dork, Zack."

Well, that hurt, but then, Jon is doing a sleepover for free. I paid for a fuck, but sleeping with a pussy boy is a thousand dollars.  

I say, "Well, what do you want me to do differently?" 

"Fuck, I don't know. We've had so many ups and downs tonight. I guess I shouldn't have said I'd spend the night." 

I'm naked while he's still got his shorts and polo shirt on. Now I feel bad because he feels bad. Trying to get his spirits up, I say, "I'm thrilled you're staying, Jon. Okay, I'll try again," and leave the bedroom. After five seconds in the living room, I get a serious expression on my face, walk back into the bedroom, and say, "Jon, you're the boss. Tell me what to do."

He stares at my face, making sure I'm not breaking his balls, then pulls his polo shirt off over his head as he's asking, "You have some kind of lubricant, I assume." Maintaining my serious frame of mind, I say, "Yes, of course. I have the jelly, or..." 

"Yeah, fine. Use that to lube your asshole really good because I'm going to fuck you without a condom tonight and again tomorrow morning. In the morning, I don't want you scrambling around for lube. Tonight's lube will do for tomorrow, too. You've already paid for a morning fuck, so we'll prepare for it ahead of time." 

I'm feeling as I usually do when he gets seriously into his bossy mode. I shiver, thinking of sleeping naked with him tonight. Then he snaps, "For Christ's sake, Zack, for once will you just do what you're told!" 

"Um, yeah, of course. Sorry, Jon," and get the lube. Jon drops his shorts and underpants, mumbling, "And I assume you know what you need to do with this," as he wags his dick which doesn't wag too much because it's too chubby. 

"Yes, that's my pleasure," and I feel the first strands of a submissive sensation roll over me like a warm, gooey lotion. He sees my demeanor change, recognizing it for what it is, and murmurs, "It's about time you learned your place tonight." 

I nod, murmuring, "I know," as my cock firms up, making me gasp quietly. Oh, yeah, this is what it's about for me. Pushing the lube inside me an inch or so, I then get another glob and push that in, too. Jon's watching me do this, his hands on his hips, a stern expression on his face. Omigod, I could eat him up. He's so sure of himself, and his toned skinny hairless body is so freakin' hot.

I've got another big glob of gel on my finger when Jon, with a scowl on his face, says, "That's enough, Zach!" I scrape the gel off my finger on the side of the container, not trusting my voice to say anything. I'm sinking further into submission to his bossy, stern self, so I'm afraid anything I'd say would sound like the voice of a timid ten-year-old. 

With me willingly going along with him, Jon is getting me into a very submissive frame of mind, and it's happening fast, like in the last two minutes, because I'm being very cooperative and embracing it. Almost simultaneously, we both look at the damp cum stain on the bedspread from our earlier fuck. I look at Jon for instructions, then ask, "Should I take the bedspread off the bed?" 

He's still pissed off at me and goes, "Why? So we can fuck up the blanket next?" 

I sort of cringe, sinking deeper into submission as my balls buzz, feeling good. Without realizing I'm doing it, I'm groping myself, my cock almost a boner. Ooh, already, I can hardly catch my breath; that's how good this feels. Avoiding the cum spot, Jon gets on the bed, mumbling, "Do I need to tell you what to do... again?" 

I shake my head, murmuring, "No," and climb on the bed. He again is lying on his back, his knees up and spread, his chubby cock waiting for me to get it hard. I'm so anxious to do that I almost drool. On my knees, I pick up his penis, lean over and gently lick the smooth head, then lick up the shortish plump shaft, my cock firming up into a hard boner up against my stomach.

Sucking his entire cock in my mouth, I lick over as much as I can reach with my tongue, my lips sucking on it, and it firms up nicely. Bobbing my head forward until my face is squished against his belly, I inhale his scent, which by now smells strongly of an unwashed young male's body odor, but not offensively. It's covering up his sweet, normal scent, though. The head of his cock in my throat swells a little, and I gag, pulling my head back.

Jon is lazily rubbing the back of his finger against the grain of my newly barbered pussy boy haircut, and I like how his fingers feel as he slowly moves them back on my scalp. My dick jerks when I think of Jon's dominance doing my haircut. Cutting it exactly how he wanted it without the slightest concern about what I might want. He did everything so casually and quickly in such a manner that it brainwashed me into thinking it was exactly what I wanted as well. 

Taking his hard cock from my mouth, I hold it against his belly and lick his balls until my climax is right at the tipping point, then back off and look up at Jon for approval. He says, "Yeah, that was very well done," and he gets an arm around his legs pulling back until his asshole is off the bed. He doesn't need to tell me; I get my head right down and lick his asshole. Lick it over and over, then lick up and down his ass crack, and then suck on his anus.

Jon moans, "Ummm, ooh, fuck..." and drops his legs on either side of my head, mumbling, "That's enough. You did that pretty good. Now lie up here on your side. Right here beside me," pointing at the cum spot that hasn't dried yet. 

I hesitate, admiring his wicked hard cock, sticking straight out and looking fatter than ever. He says again, "Right there," and I get on my side, facing away from him, the damp cum under my left thigh with submissiveness roaring in my head, making me moan, "Mmmm.. ooh... mmm." 

He gets on his side behind me, rubbing my head again, murmuring, "You're doing okay, but try calming down a little. Take a couple of deep breaths." See, Jon recognizes the submissive state I'm in and knows how to handle submissive bottom boys getting in too deep by pretending to be nice, soothing a bottom boy who is overdosing on submission. 

I nod and do what he says, feeling calmer and able to breathe almost normally, although my heart is thumping extra hard in my chest, anticipating Jon mounting me and driving his hard boner up inside me. He coos, "That's it, that's a good recruit," and I almost feel as if I actually am his recruit and almost wish I was as well.

His smallish skinny body is pressed against my back, his hand lightly rubbing my shoulder, his hard cock head bumping my top right butt cheek, smearing precum on it. This is almost like a lover's foreplay, and I know I could easily fall in love with him. Bruce told me I was susceptible to falling in love with a strong personality, a leader type. I like any very dominant top with whom I spend some time.

Jon has an arm over my side. It's thin, except I feel how hard his bicep muscle is against my arm. He takes that arm away, and I feel the back of his knuckles against my buttocks as he moves his chubby boner until the precum-wet head is against my anus, right at the tightly closed center of it. What a fabulous sensation for me to feel completely under Jon's control. I wouldn't think of moving any more than I'd think to yodel.

Feeling pressure from his cock head, barely enough even to be noticed, I whimper, "Ahh, Jon..." He goes, "Shh," and puts more pressure on my tightly closed asshole. It's at least a minute before I feel the head slide very tightly inside me, with only a minor pain at the very end when the fattest part of the head bursts on through. I go, "Oooh!" and shudder. Jon's arm is back over my side again, pinning my arm, his fingers lightly rubbing my right nipple.

I'm concentrating on his cock in my ass, concentrating so hard I don't realize my nipple is getting as hard as my penis. Jon takes another minute to push his boner all the way inside me, his hairless crotch finally tight against my buttocks, and it was all done so considerately, so intimately, my mind is about to explode. I've been fucked probably a hundred times but never like this, and lover thoughts skitter around my brain again. I know without a doubt Jon no more loves me than he loves a cow, but one can pretend what one wants.

He grinds his boner, doing little hip rotations, getting me to moan his name, "Jon... ahh, ahh, Jon, it's... um." His arm over my side tightly, he begins slowly moving his hips back, pulling his boner out the way it came, but not entirely. The neck of his cock's head is in the tight grip of my anus lips as he teases he's pulling out altogether, but then slowly, very tightly, pushing it back inside me all the way, sliding against my prostate, making my shoulders shudder.

This goes on minute after minute, slow penetrations, then even slower ones, and I don't know how long my climax has been teetering at the point of no return. I'm constantly shuddering, and the need to climax has grown to levels that I'd probably stroke myself off, except I'm lying on my left arm, and Jon's arm over my side has my right arm pressed against my side, plus I wouldn't dream of moving unless my dominant top told me too. This is exactly how he wants me, and it's exactly how I'll remain until told differently. 

More minutes go by, his boner never stopping its slow trip back and forth, pressing continuously against my prostate, getting it in a constant state of quivering pleasure. I'm into a mantra of quiet pleasure moans, "Oh, oh, oh, Jon... oh, oh, oh, Jon..." constant quiet moans of extreme pleasure that sound in my ears as if they're coming from far-off as I float in a warm sea of sexual pleasure until I'm not sure who is providing this unimaginable condition where my prostate seems detached and hovering over me quivering as it glows with pleasure. My anus is now owned by this wonderful hard chubby penis as if they're the lovers.

Oh, chubby penis... yes, it's my new lover, Jon Scheyer, who is giving me the longest, best anal sex of my life. Jon is making even quieter moans of pleasure than me as his warm, moist breath bathes the back of my neck. Suppose it weren't for the consistent insistence from my climax that it's way past the time for an orgasm, an orgasm of mammoth proportion. In that case, I'd be content to experience this treasure trove of pleasure in a state of gratification forever. 

Climaxes are a force of nature, however, and mine is insistent in a powerful way now, making me whine, "Jon, please, umm, umm, ahh, I need to climax, please..." He soothingly says, "Just a little longer," and he actually slows his thrusting even more, and I go, "Ooh, ooh, ooooh, Ummm, please, umm, umm, aah, aaah..." My prostate gland is in a state of euphoria by now, and it feels swollen as it pulsates wave after wave of pleasure until I could scream.

"Please, Jon!" He pulls his cock all the way out as I go, "Noo, don't.." He calmly says, "Get up on your knees, your face in the pillow, quickly..." 

I scramble up so fast I almost fall off the side of the bed, then, "Aaahhhh," as he slides his cock back up inside me. Right away, it's, "SLAP, SLAP, SLAP" for twenty seconds, and I squeal, "Ooooh, eeeiii!" as I'm humping my hips, releasing a hard creamy long stream of semen, my balls aching in their effort to come out with the cum, my piss slit burning at the rush of this orgasm.

Shaking all over, I squeeze my penis and then squeeze it again as Jon hammers his hard cock inside me; stops, gasps, and I feel something like a pointer hitting inside me. In a fraction of a second, something poked my bowel; then I realized Jon had shot his load inside me, and his stream of cum was as desperate to get out as mine was. He's lying on me, his cock still inside. I'm still moaning, although my shaking has reduced to shivers.

Gasping again, Jon pulls his cock out, gets an arm under my stomach, and flips me over away from the edge of the bed. I'm as limp as a ragdoll and continue rolling onto my back as Jon gets a knee on either side of me, pinning my arms over my head, a hand on each of my wrists. His face is a foot above mine as he asks, "Are you going to be my recruit?" 

"Um, Jon, ah, I can't. It's not fair asking me that now after, um..." He leans down and kisses my mouth. I open my mouth slightly, and our tongues slide together. He's the hottest, coolest person ever.

He pulls his lips off mine, "Will you be my recruit? The last three weeks of training aren't anything like the first three. The first three are intended to weed out weaklings, and the last three are about technique. Will you do me this immense favor so I can get back in Richard's good graces?" 

His eyes stare into mine, and I want to do anything, everything for him. I go, "Um, if Bruce says he'll do it, so will I." 

"Give me your word of honor." I nod, "You have my word of honor on that." He gets off me and then off the bed, saying, "Take that cum saturated bedspread off the bed." 

What? Just like that? In a fog, I do that as his cum is drooling out to run down the back of my legs. Lots of it, so he had as big a load as I did. Omigod, that fuck was historically fabulous. Putting the bedspread in a heap on the floor. Christ, Bruce would have a shit fit about that. Then I walk up behind Jon and hug him, murmuring, "I've never had sex as good as that, Jon. Not even close; it was perfect. Thank you."

He lets me hug him, mumbling, "It was a bitch getting through to you, but finally I can say mission accomplished. You can begin your training as soon as tomorrow, but I assume you'll want to wait until Bruce is finished with the job he's doing and do the last three weeks with him." 

I let go of him and stepped back, "Um, you know, he needs to agree first." 

Jon turns around and grins, then pats my cheek, saying, "He'll jump through hoops at the chance. He never thought he'd be accepted back; that's what he told Eli. Bruce is going to kiss my ass that I got Richard to let him back in the fold. The pussy boy's organization is what Bruce knows, what he's most comfortable with."

Not wanting to believe that, I'm stunned, mumbling, "But Bruce came with me, um, he didn't hesitate to leave that club, that funhouse." Acting very much the dominant person in charge, Jon says, "Stop whining, Zach; you'll be fine. I'm doing you a favor by allowing you to wait and do the training with Bruce. I could insist you do the training without him. I've got your word of honor on it, but, as I already said, I'll let you do it with him."

Stunned, I go, "Um, I, ah... well." Then think, 'Bruce won't want to do this, right?' and reality sets in that maybe Jon is right. Bruce still hasn't let go of his mentor mentality with me, not totally. I'm like, "Yes, thank you, Jon. I appreciate that." 

He nods and says, "Does this place have a washer/dryer?" He's just going on about his business as if I hadn't given my word of honor to be his recruit if Bruce will do it, too. This is a great victory for Jon, but he acts as if he expected it would end like this. That's why he said he'd spend the night with me.

I mumble, "Washer/dryer? Oh, uh-huh, they're behind those two doors next to Cowboy's room."  

"Well, put the bedspread in the washer and get it going, then we'll shower together. I'll teach you how a pussy boy showers with a client. You are months away from going online, but some dudes pay good money to have a shower with a pussy boy. Especially a hot stud like you or a cool slim dude like Bruce. You'll be surprised what some men will pay for."

Even as I acknowledge that Jon may be right about Bruce happily doing three weeks of training to get back into the organization, I don't want to do that. Jon manipulated me like a motherfucker getting me to give my word of honor? So, why am I still thinking of Jon in the most favorable way? 

Well, I admire him for the way he tenaciously went about getting what he wanted, but when I went after him tonight, there's no way he could have planned to recruit me. He didn't know I'd be back asking him for more. Christ, I didn't know until I was actually at his apartment. Maybe he had an inkling I'd back for seconds from how I reacted at our lunchtime sex.

I'm still trying to figure out what happened as I'm bundling the bedspread in my arms, doing what I'm told. I get it in the washing machine, then hurry back to see what Jon wants me to do now. In the bathroom, he says, "Close the door, Zack," then, "Before you get the shower water up to temperature, we'll brush our teeth. You especially need to do that with the ashtray breath you're breathing out all over the place. 

I mutter, "Sorry," and hope he doesn't say I need to quit smoking right now. I hope he at least waits until I'm officially his recruit. What? That's not going to happen. Bruce will stick by my side.

Jon, as casually relaxed and confident as a person can be, asks, "Which of these toothbrushes is yours?" I point at it, and he picks it up, saying, "Tomorrow, we'll get a lot of my stuff from my place. Enough for three weeks. Is that about how long Bruce has left on the job?" 

As he puts toothpaste on the toothbrush, I nod, then say, "Jon, I sincerely want you to stay here, but I really should talk with Cowboy about it. He pays his share of the rent." He reaches up and squeezes the back of my neck, mumbling, "Figure it out, Zach. You're a big boy, and the beautiful Cowboy looks up to you. I could see that, so whatever you say, he'll go along with it." 

I'm nodding again, mumbling, "Okay, I guess." He turns on the electric toothbrush, and I watch him brush his teeth as I try to process what's happened here tonight. All I decide is that I'm really into Jon and want to please him. Even though I desperately don't want to do it, I'm already accepting and getting used to the idea of being his recruit. But Bruce won't agree, right? 

Christ, Jon makes my penis move in my shorts whenever he does the hard-ass leadership thing with me. I'd follow him as my leader. I'm wicked impressed with how he handles himself and the way he handles me. It makes me want to do something stupid, like telling him how much I admire him and that I'm happy he wants me as his recruit. It's crazy, but maybe I'm falling in love with him. He won't like hearing that any more than Bruce did. It complicates things for them. I'm just an employee to them, and this is just their job. And, I know my thinking is distorted because he's gotten me into such a submissive frame of mind, and I know he won't let up... he'll keep it up until I'm eating out of his hand like a puppy dog accepting a doggy treat.

How in the hell did I get entangled in the pussy boy organization anyway? My life was relatively simple: grieving for my dead idol, Ronny, while looking out for Cowboy. Actually, Cowboy and I were helping each other, and the next thing I knew, I was involved with this. Oh, yeah, it was Richard, obviously! Fuck! Yeah, but be honest, Zack. You've had the biggest sexual thrills of your life in the past three months. Yeah, well, there's that...

Haha, well, right now, I am watching Jon brush his teeth like a puppy dog watches his master. He pays me no mind. He's aware he's got me where he wants me... under his control. After he finished brushing his teeth, he handed me the vibrating toothbrush and used one of the plastic cups Bruce had bought to fill with water and rinse his mouth out. I use the toothbrush with Jon's saliva and leftover toothpaste, and it almost gives me a boner. This is how I was with Bruce, and now I'm doing it all over again with Jon. I want to hate it, but I love it instead.

Jon's got the water running in the shower stall, saying, "Hurry it up!" One thing about pussy boys, you quickly get used to being naked with them. That's, of course, on purpose, so we'll feel super comfortable getting naked for clients. I still carry a lot of submissive feelings for Jon, but only about half of what I experienced when I thought I'd fooled him by agreeing to do his training program if Bruce would do it, too. I didn't think there was a chance in hell Bruce would subjugate himself to be Jon's trainee and then work for Jon whoring on the street. I mean, he did that already and so forth, but Jon knew better. Maybe he'll be wrong, though. I vacillate back and forth on that.

Stepping into the shower stall, Bruce tells me, "I'll be the client who went online and chose you to shower with before having sex. The sex you'll be getting paid for, um... forty percent of it, and you'll get ten percent of the online fee. A shower with a pussy boy is one hundred dollars, so a ten spot would automatically go to your computer account. Got it?" 

Nodding, I mutter, "Uh-huh," and he says, "Okay, you may as well get used to saying, "Yes, Jon... not, uh-huh. I'm sure Bruce covered that basic trainee requirement, did he not?" Nodding, "Yes, Jon," and saying that felt so good, too. I can feel myself slipping into my pussy boy training mode, and it has its high points. I let myself be deliciously submissive to the degree my eyes sting.

With a strong flow of shower water bouncing off his shoulders and back, Jon says, "You stand behind the client with you under the flow of water, and the client is just a bit out of it. When you rinse him off, you gently pull him under the flow with you. Lots of touching at all times. Got it?" 

"Yes, Jon." He says, "So, what's wrong with our client/pussy boy situation here?" I say, "We need to change places." He goes, "Good." So, I moved around to where he was. 

Following his instructions, I shampoo Jon's hair while he teaches me to subtly bump my junk against his ass and bump into his back, letting the client know I find his body attractive. That's easy with Jon's body, and I kept springing a boner. Each time he feels it bump him, Jon turns and flicks his index finger's fingernail at the head of my boner, and each time I cried out, "OW!" and lost my boner. He says, "You don't spring boners; the clients do!" 

"Yes, Jon." This is fun for me because I'm so crazy about Jon.

Except for the boner episodes, and it only took three times before I stopped springing boners, it was a lovely and sexy time bathing his excellent skinny but taut body. After rinsing the shampoo, I reached for a washcloth, and Jon said, "No, no. They want to feel your hands all over them, soapy and smooth and constantly touching and caressing. You'll be revolted by some of the older men's bodies, but you'll learn in your upcoming training how to make them think you can't get enough of their old flabby, hairy, gross bodies."

That makes me gag, but I'm most definitely not revolted by Jon's body. I wash his face the way he tells me to do it, then his perfectly-shaped ears and his neck and shoulders, his slim back and tight-as-hell butt cheeks. My hands slid over him once, twice, and three times in each area, per Jon's instructions. He said, "You'll spend a lot of time moving your fingers back and forth in your client's ass crack, plus fingering his anus, but don't penetrate. You don't want bath gel up there. Lots of rubbing the outside of his anus with a finger will be expected, though."

 I do that for Jon and then kneel to do his legs, both hands encircling each leg going up and down, making sure to pump his privates when going up, as instructed.  He tells me to carefully, without inconveniencing the client, get in front of him now and spend a lot of time on each foot with the client holding onto my head to steady himself on one foot. Then it's rubbing up and down both his legs again with my hands encircling each leg, and then the most important area... his cock and balls. 

Jon demonstrates on my cock and balls how pussy boys are to wash client's privates. With a good lather of gel worked up between his hands, he bathes my cock with gentle strokes and keeps doing it until I have a raging bone. Jon goes, "Never look up to see how your client likes it. He'll tell you if he doesn't, and he'll tell you if he wants you to suck him off now too. Seventy-five percent of clients will want that. Take your time, drag it out, giving him his money's worth. That is another few bucks in your pocket. Forty percent of fifty bucks is twenty dollars. Then, with as hard a boner as the client can get, work carefully on his balls, squeezing just hard enough that he makes quiet grunting sounds. If you squeeze too hard, he'll tell you. It's a cooperative activity."

The instructions go on and on, but I don't care. I loved washing Jon's body; his arms were only two-thirds as long as mine, and I spent extra time rubbing, bathing the hard bicep muscle in each arm, the right one bigger than the left. Spreading his hand out against mine, my fingers are an inch and a half longer than his, and his palm is half the size of mine, but then, I have large hands.

We're finally done, and I've rinsed him off. Jon says, "That wasn't very smooth, but you'll take turns with Bruce daily until you're both experts at bathing clients. That's a benefit of training two of you at the same time; I don't need to participate in every single exercise." He gets out of the shower stall, mumbling, "Quickly bathe yourself now. It's getting late, and I'm tired as hell." 

"Yes, Jon."
As I do that, and realize I was in the deepest submissive trance ever when, earlier, Jon was doing what turned out to be a twenty-eight-minute fuck. He timed it, saying he didn't think it would take that long to get me so submissive I'd agree to the training. What the hell? I'm almost looking forward to it now. I've decided I'm going to have a positive attitude about the training, but of course, I'm never going to do the whoring, and I never said I would. Well, he didn't ask, but he doesn't care what I say now anyway. Like Bruce, Jon's convinced no matter what I think now, by the time he's through with the three weeks, I'll do what I'm told and whore for him.

After drying, I come into the bedroom, and Jon says, "Turn out the light, Zack, and get in bed." I do that, and he says, "Over here," and puts his arm out. I fall asleep with my forehead touching his chin and my left leg between his legs, his cock pushed against my thigh. Jon smells excellent, and he's like his old self again. I guess I rinsed him off enough to get the bath gel scent eliminated, as a trained pussy boy should. 

Hell, accepting Jon's bossiness is easy. Bruce broke me in on the concept of doing what I'm told, so Jon had an easy job getting me to knuckle under and know my place. He's my leader until Bruce gets back, and then Jon will be Bruce's leader, too.  

During the night, we moved apart, so when I woke up, I immediately looked over and saw Jon sleeping on his stomach with one arm at his side and the other sort of hugging his pillow. Huh, I shampooed his hair last night, and now I see its shiny light-brown hair... a million fine hairs that are almost as long as mine were before he gave me this haircut. I reach up and run my fingers over my head, and I like how it feels. I've always had shorter hair than most of my contemporaries. That's because I got my haircut with Ronny and got it cut exactly as he did. Oh, Ronny, you didn't do right by me, your best friend, but I forgive you.

My head is clear as a bell this morning. No submissive hangover like I felt a couple of times last night. Sliding over to Jon, I get against his skinny side and lightly rub my fingers on his silky skin. He's only nineteen, small and skinny, but he's muscular and toned too... very fit for a skinny, short guy. I can only see the side of his face, but I know he's not cute; well, most young guys are cute in one way or another because of their, um, their youth. Considering his leadership qualities, determination, and self-confidence, Jon could have been something special if he had had better guidance in his formative years. Yeah, well, that's true, but maybe those traits are because he dropped out and survived on the mean streets. 

Huh, Jon is sure Bruce would be ecstatic about the opportunity to get back in the club, and I didn't. Jon told me why, and it makes sense. When it comes to street boys and whores, I'm 'effing clueless, obviously. I thought that I had Bruce on board with my plans for us. HA! That's a good one! These guys have their plans that are completely out of my purview. Until very recently, I had zero experience in the male prostitution world. I have a little experience in the past few months. Bruce's and Jon's experiences with that world and any number of other things way out there in never-never land are experiences I can't imagine. 

Jon turns over and says in his sleep, "Gasamut," and I see his face. No, neither a girl nor a gay guy would say Jon's really cute, but he's nice-looking. I think he is anyway, plus he's healthy-looking too. He looks good. He can be my leader if Bruce doesn't want the job. Of course, haha, neither of them is interested in me one-tenth as much as I'm interested in them. They see me as a product that can make money for them. Bruce made no apologies about it, and neither did Jon. I know how they feel, but I can't help myself from getting all gooey around them, even to the point of falling in love. 

Lightly running my fingers through Jon's super clean silky hair, I'm aware that something's missing in me that would normally prevent me from so easily falling under their influence and liking it to the point I want these two societal misfits to be my leader. Even with a clear head, I still can't get pissed that Jon manipulated me. He doesn't give it a second thought because it's what he wanted, and he got what he wanted. He said I was easy.  And he's right about that, too. He's been right about most things, including staying the night. 

Anyway, he said the last three weeks' training doesn't include those stupid fraternity initiation-like tricks and humiliations. It's about whoring techniques that the run-of-the-mill street guys can't conceive of, and that's what makes pussy boys the classy boy whores, and the other boys just dirty street trash that offer bargain prices for sex. The clients can go cheap or go top shelf. I know personally that I had much better luck going top shelf. Not one hundred percent, but close to it.

Being with Bruce as Jon's recruit could be fun now that I contemplate it with a clear head instead of one distorted by deep submission to my super-dom, Jon Scheyer. I get a shiver down my back thinking about last night's sex. He had me fooled into thinking we were sharing the sex, but he was setting me up to agree to what Jon wanted. Still, it was the best fuck I've ever had in my life. Now he owns me. He got me to think I might fall in love with him, but that's on me... not him.  

Even being fully aware that he used me and took advantage of me, I still can't resist leaning over to kiss his cheek and smell his clean, sexy scent. He opens his eyes and smiles, murmuring, "Ah, my first recruit. Falling in love with me already, are you Zach? It happens a lot, I'm told." 

Embarrassed, I pull my head back, muttering, "No, I just, um, appreciated that awesome sex you laid on me last night." 

"That was business, and so was your initial client bathing lesson. How'd you like that? It's an example of what you can expect in your three-week training. It's mostly about pleasure techniques with some discipline that you need a lot of thrown in to remind you to know your place. Nothing too major." 

Smiling, I twirl a strand of his hair with my finger, saying, "Yes, that bathing thing was, um, fun because it was you who I practiced on." 

He says in a much less playful voice, "Don't assume we're equals, Zach. That would be a mistake on your part and get you in trouble. Think of it this way. Would you play with your superior officer's hair in the Navy Seals the way you're doing with mine?" 

Startled, I go, "No, of course not, but..." 

He holds up a finger to stop me from talking and says, "There are no 'butts' about it, my friend. I'm your superior officer in our pussy boy world. I own you. You're my recruit in waiting. Don't presume anything. Do you understand the position your word of honor has put you in?" 

Nodding, resigned, I say firmly, "Yes, Jon, I know my place now."

He says, "You'll be fine. Money aside, you need this training. It'll help you grow up. Yeah, it'll be a very worthwhile three or four years. You'll be twenty-six or seven when I retire you from my service, and by then, you'll have had ten times the worldly experience than you've had your first twenty-three years. Your Seal's experiences were playtime years for you, weren't they?" 

He sounds like my old man, except Mac never gave me the submissive sense that Jon's one-minute lecture has. I mumble, "Yes, Jon, they were playtime years."

He pats my shoulder, saying, "No more sneaking kisses on my cheek or playing with my hair. Got it?" 

"Yes, Jon." 

He stretches, yawns, and says, "Hell, I've had twice the real-world experiences you've had, and I'm only nineteen. I'm an adult, and you're still a child, but you won't be six months from now. You'll grow up real fast on the street eight hours a day blowing and getting fucked by pathetic losers." 

I cringe, and he says, "It's an underground world, Zach, but I'll be there to guide you through it. Don't look so frightened." 

I say, "I'm not the least bit frightened." 

He rubs my head, nodding, "We'll see about that, my number one recruit." It never ceases to amaze me how some guys, like Jon, can be so fucking confident. I can't even imagine being like that. He came right out and insulted the shit out of me, and I ended up admiring him. He's got brass balls, considering I could bounce him on his head like a pogo stick.

Stretching again, Jon mumbles, "That was the best night's sleep I've had in six months." He looks at me and grins, saying, "Let's finish our business. Get on your knees, your face on your pillow." 

I do that immediately as Jon yawns again, then lets out a long exhale as if his work is never done. Shit, and I thought he was just as turned on by our sex last night as I was. To him, it was probably just doing his job. Hoping I'm wrong about that, I look back and timidly ask, "Was last night's sex as good for you as it was for me?" 

Getting behind me, Jon stands, bending his knees, mumbling, "What? Oh, um, yes it was really special, as you are, Zach. For now, though, get your fucking pussy down to my level. Don't make me tell you that again," and he smacks my ass hard, adding, "I'm your mentor/trainer and you, Zach, are the recruit in waiting who is getting special attention from your mentor, but only because you paid for it. Got it?" 

"Yes, Jon."

I'd happily suck a boner on his pretty chubby penis, but he rubs it across my buttocks instead. When it's barely firm enough, he plugs it in hard, and I screech out, "Ahhh! Ow!" He smacks my ass, grunting, "Stop it!" and pushes his cock inside me. I feel it growing bigger and getting harder with each inch it goes into my body. The initial pain of insertion took me by surprise. I mean, after last night's painless sex, this was a cherry bomb going off in my ass by comparison. 

Jon accomplished his goal of recruiting me last night, and now he wants to balance the books by completing this prepaid fuck from his client. Get it out of the way. There is plenty of lubricant from last night still in my rectum, so after that initial thrust, there isn't much pain, and soon, there isn't any at all.

Jeez, I gotta give him props; Jon gets more from his four-plus-inch cock than some guys can manage with a much bigger one. Goddamn, this feels good! "Slap, slap, slap" as the pleasure rolls over me. It gets intense, and I'm soon rubbing my face in the pillow, moaning, "Ah, ahh, ahhh! Fuck my ass, Jon." It's been fast, hard thrusting right from the start. None of last night's pace; this is like buddy sex to get us both off. It works too, as I moan, "Mmm, mmm, ooh, umm," with ballooning sexual sensations vibrating all around and inside my rectum, my cock like a granite pole. 

This is good old-fashioned rough sex, the kind you have with bar pick-up guys, or, in this case, the kind of sex you get when you pay for it. I'm not complaining because it's good value, as the waves of rough sexual pleasure and my building climax will set me up for the day. I'm not going to be horny all morning. Jon's chubby hard boner has my prostate ringing its bell and my anus gripping his fast-moving hard pudgy penis. He's grunting, doing what he's paid to do as I grovel in the pleasure of getting fucked hard and fast. Last night, I thought it was sex for mutual pleasure, but now I know better. Now, Jon's earning the hundred dollars I prepaid him for this morning's fuck.

My climax doesn't much care about which business role Jon is functioning in; his cock has my impending climax stimulated enough to blow, and with a reflex hump of my hips and muffled squeal into the pillow, cum streaks out from my iron cock with sizzling vibrations spreading out from my balls. It's electrifying pleasure that's pulsating seemingly all over me as I shake and shudder, then moan quietly as calmness replaces that volcano of sensations.

Jon had no interest in climaxing himself. He pulled his cock out of my ass as soon as he'd completed the job he was paid to do. I'm shuddering a little from the after-effects of what was an average orgasm. Jon pats my ass, saying, "Nice ass for fucking, Zack." 

Everybody says that. Oh man, that was an average orgasm, but, Goddamn, they all feel good to me. 

As he walks into the bathroom, he says over his shoulder, "Either change the sheets or tonight you sleep on the part of the sheet you just blew your load on. I'm sleeping on the other side." 

Huh, he's pretty much like Bruce. As I'm getting out of bed, I hear my electric toothbrush making its buzzing sound. It makes me smile that I'm such a sap. These pussy boys play me like a fiddle. Jon's right; compared to him and Bruce, I am a child. I hope they don't find out I'm five years older than they think I am. That'd be even more embarrassing.

After putting on clean underwear and shorts, I strip the bed and carry the sheets to the washer/dryer, where I put the bedspread in the dryer and the sheets in the washing machine. Cowboy touches my bare shoulder, and I go, "Ah!" 

He grins, "Gotcha! How ya doing this morning, bro?" I nod, "Real good, um, Jon spent the night." 

He shrugs, then asks, "Can I make a mug of coffee for you?" I mumble, "Yeah, thanks. What's Lee doing?" 

Putting a K-cup in the coffee makers, Cowboy says, "He's still sleeping. Oh, that boy is something special, though. He fucked me so good last night I couldn't stop hugging and kissing him afterward. It's so odd, Zach. Ya know, he's like my man when we're in bed, and then I'm his man out of bed. Do you know what I mean?"

"Sure I do. You two are great together, and great for each other. Um, I need to ask you something. Ah, would it be alright with you if Jon moved in for three weeks? Just until Bruce gets back from Philly." 
Cowboy passes me the mug of coffee and puts in another K-cup, saying, "You don't need to ask my permission. Fuck, gay sex freaks like us need our man fucking us, right?" 

I grin, "That's true for me, yeah. Jon fucks really good too. Um, so you don't mind?"

Cowboy gets half and half from the refrigerator and says, "No, I don't mind, but I don't like to see your boyfriends, Bruce or Jon, treating you disrespectfully." 
Shaking my head, I go, "Nah, it's not like that. I like playing the submissive role with them. I like it when they act like my man." He puts five teaspoons of sugar in his mug of coffee, mumbling, "You mean like my brother was to you?" 

"Not exactly. Ronny was my leader, anyone could see that, but we never so much as had a brotherly kiss together never mind any sex. These boys are my leader, but they're also fucking my brains out." He chuckles, "Christ, I'm getting hot just thinking about those little twits fucking you."

Adding cream to my coffee and two sugars, I say, "Believe me, Cowboy, neither one of those boys is a twit." 

Jon comes into the kitchen smiling, "Good morning, Cowboy. I hope it's okay with you that I bunk in with Zach for a week or two." Cowboy says, "Sure, as long as you take good care of my favorite bro in the world." 

I get up to make Jon coffee, and he sits in my seat, picks up my cup, and then swallows. Adding three more teaspoons of sugar, he says, "I'll try to make Zach happy, Cowboy, but it'll be him who will need to say if I'm doing a good job of it or not."

Waiting for the machine to finish my coffee, I say, "You know Goddamn well you're doing an A+ job of taking care of my sexual needs, Jon." 

He looks at me with a smirk on his face, mumbling, "Gee, thanks." 

Then, I can't help myself... even though I'm just a recruit to Jon, he turns me on, and as I sit down with my coffee, I drag my hand across his slim shoulders, wanting to lie in bed with him again. He gives me a knowing grin. I'm so obvious about it; he knows he has me under his control, and he knows I'm stupidly attracted to him. As Bruce says, I'm inclined to give away all my leverage to my dominant tops.

Lee walks out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes, mumbling, "Good morning," then leans over and kisses Cowboy on the lips, murmuring, "I love you." 

We mutter, "Hey, Lee, G'morning to you too." He plucks a K-cup in the coffee maker as Cowboy says to Lee, "Jon's staying with Zach a couple of weeks, so with you fucking me ten times a night and Jon fucking up Zach like a motherfucker this place is going to smell like a whore house." 

Lee cringes, muttering, "Please, don't be crude, Cowboy." Yeah, Lee's not calling Cowboy his given name of Carson. It sounds funny, but I'll get used to it quickly. Cowboy gets up, grinning, and hugs Lee, picking him up off the floor as Jon's phone rings.

He gets it out of the pocket of his wrinkled shorts, mumbling, "Excuse me," and heads for the balcony. All I hear is, "Yo, Eli, my man..." and then Jon's out past the sliding doors to the balcony. Huh. I guess he'll be telling Eli how he conquered me, and I gave my word of honor I'll be his pussy boy recruit. I only gave my word to do the three weeks of training, but they think they'll turn me during the three weeks, and I'll be out on the street with Bruce. Fuck that, but as I said before, I kind of like the idea of Bruce, Jon, and me together for three weeks. Hey, I won't do the whoring, but I can be Bruce's best customer!

Jon sticks his head in and asks me, "What's Bruce's cell phone number, Zach?" I tell him, and he steps back out on the balcony. Hmm, Cowboy and Lee are messing around doing grab-ass over at the counter, so I wander over and listen to Jon talking to Eli. He says, "How would I know? That's the same number he gave me. Maybe his phone isn't charged." 

He listens, then chuckles and says, "Oh fuck, he was easy. I gave him the old lover's fuck, and he folded like a pup tent," then a few seconds later, "Yeah, he's impossible not to like. Very immature, but whaddya expects considering his life of riches." He listens, then goes, "I don't know, but you need to talk to Bruce. He's gonna cream in his knickers when he hears I got him back in the club. Keep calling him Eli." Listening, then, "Uh-huh, you too. Call me when you've talked to him." 

I step back and sit at the table. Jon comes in, saying, "That was Eli. Um, he can't get Bruce on the phone. Bruce won't answer, and the calls don't go to an answering service, so Eli thinks Bruce must have lost his phone or broken it at that construction site." I nod, "Oh, jeez. Well, I know where he's staying, and, um, I'll see him in about eight hours, so..."

So, Eli already knew Jon had recruited me. Jon must have called him last night, maybe when I was showering. It's not like they planned anything ahead of time because no one knew, me included, that I was going to show up at Jon's apartment last night. Breaking into my thoughts, Jon taps the back of my hand with a finger, saying, "Hey, let's get moving. I need you to drive me to a barbershop and then my place so I can get my stuff and bring it back here." 

He stands up, saying to Cowboy and Lee, "We'll see you guys later." Lee asks, "Are you guys coming to the beach today?" Jon mumbles, "I don't know. We'll see," and he pats my ass, "Let's go, Zach. Get a shirt and something on your feet." 

He follows me into the bedroom, where I say, "Is it okay if I take a piss and brush my teeth first? We're not in that much of a rush, are we, Jon?" 

He mutters, "Not really. I get antsy to get stuff done, though."

"Yes, Jon." Well, here I go again, off the fucking rails...

To be continued...