Too defiant to Abuse

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

Introduction:

Longer-read: After college, the 23-year-old Michael J Cox moved clear across the country. Finding a new house, job, and a heap of trouble. Getting to know the friends and enemies he encountered. And the great sex he had with both. However much he liked the thuggish type, the defiant Mikey Mike hates to be dominated, bound, or abused. 
This is a 9-part dramatic depiction of what Mike had to endure setting up shop.

Disclaimer:
This story is strictly fictional and contains male-on-male (gay) sexual content, both implied and explicit. 

• If this offends you, please do not continue. 
• If you are under 16 years of age, please exit this story now. 

All character names, implied situations, parties, or locations are strictly fictional. Any similarities with real people are unintentional and purely coincidental. This fictional story is the author's imagination and is not based on real-life events or people. The author does not endorse any products or parties named in this story.

Copyright:
Any and all copyrights to this story remain strictly that of the author. No other publication, use, or reproduction of this story or parts of this story is allowed without the author's written consent. 

Too defiant to Abuse - Part 2.

Michael sighed and looked around the heart of town. Around four, Brandon drove his truck around the back of Grunnings, a mom-and-pop store that sold a bit of everything. The thunderous footfalls of Michael's heavy boots echoed between the warehouse and the store. He had jumped out of the cab right in front of Frank Grunnings. The 66-year-old mister Grunnings was as stunned as Michael was at the booming sound he had made. Brandon walked around the cab, greeting the store owner of Grunnings.
"Hey, Frank... Brought me a helper today... This is Michael J Cox... The guy I've been telling you about..." said Brandon as he clapped a hand on Mikey's shoulder.

Michael's face had turned red. He wasn't ready to be introduced to mister Grunnings like this. Feeling that he wasn't appropriately dressed. Mike wasn't even sure if he would apply for the job. But the damage was done. So he took off his glove and stuck his hand out to greet mister Grunnings. However, mister Grunnings only looked at the young man for a bit. Leaving Michael hanging. Saying sternly: "Oh... My wife won't like the look of you... You would remind her of those..." mister Grunnings suddenly stopped talking. 

Michael knew what '... those...' meant and said: "Ah, not to worry... I won't come dressed like this during office hours, sir... These are just some work clothes Brandon Hardman lent me to help him out... Ha... I have not even officially applied for the job jet... So why don't we unload first, and you can show me the store later... The lunchroom smells nice... Do you bake your own donuts and pies, mister Grunnings?... Brandon... We must visit it... I am hungry already..." said Michael with a friendly smile. This melted Frank Grunnings's heart, who happily shook Mike's hand now.

Together the men unloaded the supplies into the store's warehouse. The amount of stock mister Grunnings kept back there was a little overwhelming. Just as much as the information Frank Grunnings gave Michael about the store's history. Frank, and his wife Ellise, took it on 40 years ago. But now, they were in their sixties and ready to take it a bit slower. Hoping a new manager would eventually buy it from them so they could retire completely. After a quick run through the store, the three men bumped into Ellise in the lunchroom. A busy place. Not in the least since half the police department seemed to be there.

"Ellise, dearest... I want you to meet this young man... He is going to be our new manager..." said Frank, a little bit too firmly.
"Is he now?..." said Ellise as she turned around and saw the butch leather-clad boy. Her reaction was precisely as Frank had predicted. Ellise Grunnings had a defiant 'OH NO, HE IS NOT'-kind of look on her face.
Michael knew what to do. He beamed friendly at her and said: "Well, I would need to submit an application first... And this is not what I normally would wear to work, of course... I am helping out Brandon... So I borrowed his clothes... I like this jacket, though... And I have not even been to the hairdressers yet... I just left college... But here is a folder with my grades and references..." said Michael warmly. Handing his jacket to Brandon. Spotting a tall black police sergeant that stood next to him. Listening to everything that was said.

Michael did the shortest of double takes. Looking at the assertive, sexy smooth-skinned ebony stud in uniform. Raised his eyebrows to Brandon. Asking the trucker wordlessly: "Is this him?... WOW..." Brandon just gave a quick nod and a slight grin. Michael grinned as well when he saw the sergeant giving him an approving look back.

Frank told Michael they could only offer him a part-time job. But Mike had different worries. Saying: "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here... I don't even have a place to live yet... As soon as I do, I will apply for a job here... It has potential... And I already have some ideas I would love to run by the two of you... First though... I need something to eat... I have not had anything since breakfast..." said Mike looking at the food on display in the lunchroom.

"Ah... I can drop you off at Steels Realtors... I know they have some cheap homes in the Bush street area... If you don't mind fixing it up..." said the kind police sergeant. Showing Brandon and Mike to the booth he was sitting at. "But don't order too much... I think Hardman wants to take us to dinner at the T-Bone later..." Sitting down in the booth, Roy Peterson grabbed Michael's hand, making him sit next to him. Ordering a round of fresh apple pie with cream and coffee for the lot. 

Brandon introduced Michael to Roy. The men talked about Grunnings, the town's troubles with the skinhead hooligans, and how they met. Michael told an abbreviated life story and how he met Brandon. And the longer they talked, the more impressed sergeant Roy Peterson became with the boy. Frank and Ellise Grunnings stopped by and asked if Michael was sure he wanted to work for them. Asking if he had any questions before he applied for the job.

"Well... Now you ask me... Yeah... I have a few... Do you mind male employees with earrings?... I am thinking of getting a haircut, an earring, or a tattoo... Nothing too obvious, of course... But I am gay..." Michael said it with slightly squinting eyes. Watching Ellise's reaction. It did not come. But Frank said he was okay with it.
"The other thing is... Are you open to making some changes around here?... Invest a little money?..." This time Michael watched Frank more closely. Again Frank said he would love all the input Michael had. He looked forward to the ideas.
"How about the accounting?... What system do you use?..." He watched Ellise now. Since she kept the store's books. This time it was Ellise who reacted. Telling Mike she had a computer. But still kept the paper books up-to-date as well.

Michael knew enough. His help and skills were needed here. And he liked the challenge of bringing Grunnings into the twenty-first century. But the last thing he asked stunned the lot of them. Even the sergeant gasped when Mike asked Frank directly. Whispering: "Sorry... But I have to ask... Are you being extorted by the fools that terrorize this town?... I need to know what I am getting myself into..."
Frank gave Mike a reluctant stare. Saying: "They have been in here... But no, they don't dare to do stuff like that in broad daylight in a busy store... With cops in the back 24-7..."

"Okay... You got yourself a new manager... But do update your security cameras and fire suppression... I'll see about a new house... And let you know when I can start..."
"Damn, kid... Good attitude... I like that..." boomed Roy Peterson. Ellise and Frank Grunnings agreed wholeheartedly. Telling Michael, they were starting to worry no one would apply for the job. 

When the Grunnings's left, Roy put his thickly muscled arm around Mike's back. Sneakily putting his big hand on Mike's trapezius muscle. The grip turned into a mean squeeze of the muscle on top of Michael's shoulder. Mike winced in discomfort. Sliding his ass diagonally toward the black hunk in an attempt to get away from the pain. And that was the whole idea behind this attack. Roy Peterson put his arm around Mike's midsection. Preventing the boy from moving back. He whispered extremely softly: "That's it, crawl onto your master's lap, boy!..."

Stunned, Michael looked at Brandon across the table. Then moved his hand into Roy's crotch. Squeezing so hard, Mike feared he could squash Peterson's black nuts. Whispering equally quiet: "... We're not going to hurt each other... Are we officer?... It would be a shame if I needed to do some damage before we got to know each other... Now, do we, sergeant?..." Mike slackened the grip a little. But kept a firm hold. Feeling the sergeant strain as his dick grew harder and harder. Muttering: "Impressive... 10-pounder?..."
Brandon nearly swallowed his fist to prevent the outburst of laughter. Roy just put his hand over Mike's and moved it up and down its entire length. 

Muttering straight into Mike's ear: "11 and a bit... And too wide for most... But it's yours if you want to try it on for size..."
Mike grinned and let go. Saying: "WOW... Amazing... but I think I am not up for tactics like that... I prefer the more subtle approach... I don't need a master... Can do with some friends, though..."
"10-4... Buddy... I can do that too... Shell, we hook you up with a home?... That realtor Steel is much rougher than me, though... And he is being extorted by those skinheads... He just doesn't want to admit it..." said Roy Peterson.

Michael said goodbye to Brandon and left with Roy in his police car. They had a dinner date later that evening. Time enough for Mike to check out the homes for rent or sale in the area. Roy dropped him off at Steel's Realtors and said: "I'll wait here... Don't scare his receptionist... She has an alarm button to call the police... So don't act like a skinhead... Just pick a few houses you like and ask for an appointment with Rick Steel... Hand her a business card if you have one... That should break the ice..."

Not one foot inside the office, and the red button got pressed. Mike could hear the police radio light up with emergency traffic and Roy calming things down. Michael J Cox graciously introduced himself. Keeping his distance from the nervous young woman. Pointing out the police car in front of the office waiting for him. Mike asked friendly if he could give her his card. He told her that he was looking to buy a house he could fix up. 

And she got brave enough to hand him some prospectuses of homes in the Bush street area. While Michael thumbed through them, he chatted with the receptionist a bit. Telling her that he was the new manager at Grunnings. She calmed completely down when Michael asked for an appointment with mister Steel. Mike had seen the price of a family home on the top of the hill at Bush street that he liked. In walking distance of the city center. The price was ridiculously low. He could pay that amount three times in cash, Mike thought. When he asked why it was this cheap, the receptionist told him Steel was selling off all the homes there. And Michael understood why this was, but he did not say anything.

Seven minutes later, he took a seat next to Roy. Showed the sergeant the home he wanted to buy. Telling him about the appointment for the following day. But Michael had two more things he wanted to know. So he asked: "Roy... You're probably not allowed to tell the public... But what's with that tag I keep seeing?... What does the B I H stand for?..."
"Could be anything... Our best guess it's something like... Uhmmm... Burn In Hell..." said Sergeant Peterson openly.
"So... Uhmmm... it could also be... Born In Heaven?..." suggested Michael. Seeing Roy's puzzled look, Mike explained: "I had a frat mate that wore the same H-symbol as a necklace... We suspected that Texan asshole to be part of a sect or something... He even had a tattoo with B I H worked in it... When we asked, he said it meant Born In Heaven..." said Michael unsurely.

"Well, now... That's a thought... I will certainly look into that... Any idea what town or region he came from?... Then I can check in with the police there..." asked the sergeant. Roy added: "Dude... you know... If this leads to their apprehension, you're entitled to a hundred thousand dollar reward..." said Roy Peterson.

"But it might just as well be the brand mark of a horse farm... The asshole came from somewhere north of Dalhart, I think... Near the Olka-homo border... " sniggered Michael childishly. "But there is something else I wanted to ask, Roy... It's about that Rick Steel... Everyone keeps warning me about him... Wassup with that?..."

"Ah... Roderick Steel is a good businessman... But in his spare time, he runs a motorcycle gang of alpha guys... The type of gang you don't want to mess with... But since those punks started squeezing Steel, he has gotten much worse... I used to ride with them... But now all they do is hunt ass and abuse them... So yeah... Not the most admirable master... But I don't think you need to worry about him during business hours..." laughed Roy Peterson. Clapping a hand on Michael's neck and giving it a warm squeeze.

Roy brought Michael back to the T-Bone, where they met up with Brandon near the café. The trucker said goodbye to his boyfriend, who had to return to the police station to look into Michael's tips.
Michael told Brandon that he needed to swing by his truck to pick up his shoes. But Brandon simply smiled. Saying: "I think you earned those boots, kid... You wear them well... But we can pick up your stuff for sure... I have another delivery to make this night... And won't be back until Wednesday..."
"Oh man,... Thanks... I do like this look... The only thing missing is a fucking cool Harley or a nasty dirt bike..." laughed Mike.

"Well, there is another reason..." said Brandon slyly. "The guy I'd like you to meet, Tomas Johnson, the owner of the T-Bone, is a bit of an alpha himself... I hope he will join us for dinner... but he told me once that he doesn't like college twinks... And despite your new outfit and the hot muscular body... Well,... Uhmmm..." Brandon did not know how to say what he wanted to say.
"Ha... Asshole... Yeah... I know... I am still a bit too boyish looking... Ain't I?..." laughed Mikey. "But unlike that Tomas guy... Roy seemed to be into my white twinky bubble butt... Is he really more than eleven inches?... How the hell do you handle it... It sounds damned painful, Brandy..."
"Right!... Roy can be mean... Especially when I piss him off... But compared to Rick Steel, Roy is an angel..." said Brandon.
"Shit... Really?... Should I bring some protection... I have an appointment with that Steel fellow in the morning... But what am I saying... I don't have a gun... Heck, I don't even own a pocket knife..." said Michael worriedly.

"I doubt he'll do his alpha BDSM master party trick during business hours..." laughed Brandon. "But I can hook you up with a knife... Even if you only use it to open cardboard boxes, a knife is a handy thing to have on you at all times, Mike..." said Brandon, very brotherly to Michael. Pulling out three of the knives he kept hidden in the driverside door. The first was a nasty-looking twelve-inch survival dagger. Complete with serrations and a blood groove. The second was an eight-inch knife with built-in brass knuckles. The third was a relatively small boy scout pocket knife.

Michael had no words. So Brandon just said: "It's okay, little bro... I don't expect you need shit like this to protect yourself... But they are handy to have around... Pick one... I want you to have one, Mikey..." So Michael picked the brass-knuckled one. It was mat-black, and the eight-inch hardened knife shot out the front if you pressed the lever. "Good choice... Easy to carry around..." said the blond trucker to his best friend.

Laying side by side on Brandon's bed, they talked for an hour. Michael lay half on Brandon's chest. Getting cuddled nicely by his blond trucker mate. But he looked him straight in the eye and asked: "Won't Roy get mad if he finds out you fucked me in the shower block, Brandon?..."
"Not at all... He actually expects me to fuck around... We have an open relationship... And he loves me to tell him what dirty deeds I've done... So he'll be hearing all about us... He would probably only get mad if I served another master without his permission... I do like the three of him..." grinned Brandon

"Huh?... The three of him?... What do you mean?..." asked the puzzled boy.
"Well, there is the bald-headed black police sergeant... He is friends with everyone... The everyday buff Roy Peterson... And well... Uhmmm... The best fucking brutal alpha stallion with his eleven-inch horse cock... I've never been one to fall in love... But I fell for Roy... I fell for him hard... Now that the T-Bone motel is closed, I sometimes sleep at his place... Even though we are not quite ready yet to move in with each other..." beamed Brandon. 

"Brandon?..." said Michael tentatively.
"Yeah?... Wassup, little brother?..." asked Brandon as he kissed Mike's forehead.
"You do know I don't like to get hooked up... Why is it important for me to dress like this... Don't get me wrong... I like this leather jacket and those cool boots... But... Uhmmm... Why?... Who is that Tomas guy anyway?..." asked Michael, a little unsure and defiantly.

"Ah... Well, I am glad you like the look... But that's more for Tomas Johnson's benefit than yours... I hope to tease him out of his shell a bit... If you don't mind... I feel sorry for the guy... He's been through a lot... And if you don't like him... Then there is no harm done... Besides... It's just a bite to eat with friends... You said you wanted to meet a few people... Didn't you?..." said Brandon warmly.
"Ha... And if I do like him?... Is he seeing someone?..." asked Michael.
"Hahaha... No... You can have him..." smirked Brandon.

The two friends heard Roy's pickup truck stop beside Brandon's big rig. Brandon and Mike got a lift to the side of the T-Bone truck stop restaurant. Michael's mouth dropped to the ground when he saw Roy in his everyday casual outfit. The black hunk wore a tight pair of leather jeans, cowboy boots, and a tight black tank top. The gun holster he wore was only partially concealed by the stone-washed light gray denim jacket. Mikey actually had started to drool when Brandon closed his mouth for him. The casual-looking Roy was a true god. With his bald plate and smooth, dark-ebony skin. Michael never went for darker men. But fuck, he wanted a piece of this meat.

The three walked into the restaurant, laughing at Michael's apparent infatuation with this tall sexy stallion. Michael, the shortest of the three, walked between Brandon and Roy. They held the 23-year-old tightly around the neck and waist. Roy's horny look had taken Michael by surprise. He looked very different from the imposingly uniformed police sergeant. Mike could even imagine Roy dressed as a master in a full-leather outfit. Torturing Brandon in some hot BDSM roleplay adventure.

Inside, it took Michael some time to snap out of his daydream. But he jumped from one to another. Tomas Johnson got greeted by Brandon Hardman. The two bro-hugged a long time. When Tomas looked over Brandon's shoulder and saw the butchly dressed Cox, he let go. Where Tomas Johnson seemed eager to be introduced to Michael, Mike was a little starstruck. Well, a lot, actually.

Roy officially introduced the two twinks. Telling Michael that Tomas was the owner of the T-Bone truck stop. The six-foot-three hunk looked stern and buff, not as big as Roy's or Brandon's bulky bodybuilder look. But still, not someone you wanted to cross in a dark alley, either. Tomas's short-trimmed black hair had a sexy longer tuft above his forehead. He wore a butch black earring in his right ear. The cool thing had a tiny chain with a cross hanging from it. And he was dressed cool too, thought Michael in awe. Tomas wore black pants, a tight black shirt, and a leather vest. The white apron he wore could not conceal his excitement seeing the three.

It was not until Tomas spoke that Michael figured his starstruck feeling out. He had seen this guy starring in a few of his favorite porn movies. Tomas Johnson was, or at least used to be, a pornstar, thought Michael elated. This got him aroused as well. When Mikey held out a hand for him to shake, Tomas actually pulled him into a bro-hug. Clapping Michael warmly on the back before lowering the hand to the boy's firm butt cheek. Giving it a little squeeze. Mikey just let out the tiniest little moan. Just enough for Tomas to figure the boy out. The fact that Mike did not oppose to his forward behavior told Tomas a lot about Mike.

There was no way in hell Michael would have objected. It was not every day you meet your favorite pornstar in public, thought Michael hornily. The whole idea got Mike's blood pumping. But somehow or other, there was an instant click between the two. If you believe in love at first sight, then this was definitely it. 

Tomas let go and put an arm around Mikey. Guiding them to a booth next to the bar and the kitchen doors. That booth had four place settings laid out already. This pleased Brandon and Roy. They did not have to twist Tomas's arm to get him to join them that evening. Tomas sat down last. Picking the seat facing the bar and the door to the restaurant so he could keep an eye on things.

The four guys had a lovely evening eating a lot and drinking a little. Making jokes and exchanging dirty anecdotes. The guys hit it off marvelously. The longer the evening went on, the closer Tomas scooted himself to Mikey. But not once let Michael slip that he knew Johnson had been a pornstar. Mike did not know if Roy or Brandon knew this. And he did not want to embarrass his new friend. Nor did he directly refer to the trouble the T-Bone had previously seen. But the four made their sexual preferences very clear without actually taking the words into their mouths. Tomas was a little reluctant when the subject came to bear. So the friends dropped it. They knew Michael understood, and that was enough.

In the setting sun, Michael Cox saw a battered old station wagon pull up to the restaurant. Three of the four guys got out. Making their way over to the doors. Looking constantly over their shoulders as if they feared they were being followed. When the three skinheads walked inside, Mikey excused himself. He needed a piss but took his rucksack with him. This got the police sergeant's attention.

When Michael returned, the three skinheads were screaming and shouting at Tomas Johnson. They threatened to knock Tomas's face in, using the baseball bats they brought. Telling him, Tomas had promised to denounce his wicked ways. Wanting to get paid for having to remind him all gays were evil. And shit like that. Tomas took the abuse quite well. Sitting upright and trying to defuse the situation. Ordering the customers and staff to stay back.

Mike walked behind the skinheads, heading straight for the door. One of those assholes shouted after Michael: "Where do you think your going faggot?..." It took Mike a lot of effort not to retort to that. He would have loved to drop-kick the bald fucker straight in his mouth. Kicking his teeth in for calling him a faggot. But Mike kept walking. And once he was at the door, the guy returned his attention to Tomas, Brandon, and Roy.
Apparently, they did not know that Roy was a police officer. But the entire truck stop was in an uproar now. There were only three of them against thirty truckers and T-Bone staff. Once the skinhead fools realized this, they left in rather a hurry. Nearly knocking Mike on his ass as they exited the restaurant on the run.

Mike sat next to Tomas, who lay slumped over the table. Covering his face with both hands. Trembling like a leaf. Half the restaurant stood around the booth. All wanted to know if Tomas was okay. Roy snarled to Mike: "Where the hell have you been?..."
"I remembered I had a GPS tracker in my rucksack... So I snuck outside and glued it on the inside of their bumper... Taking a few photos of the car and those idiots while they left... The driver looked nothing like those skinheads, though..." said Mike in an urgent whisper.

Brandon asked the staff and the other truckers to give them some privacy. Thanking them for sticking up for Tomas. Michael put a hand on Tomas's back and gently rubbed it up and down. Whispering softly to the guy. Asking if he wanted to go somewhere more private. Somehow, Mike's calming voice gave Tomas the strength to sit up and look at him. Asking: "What must you think of me?... Not able to stand up for myself... I am sorry, Mikey..."
"Shhh... I know more than you think I do... Do you have a private room?... Let's go there... Too many ears around here..." asked Michael.

As the two hunky twinks walked away, Mike quickly said goodbye to Roy and Brandon. Telling Roy: "I'll text you the GPS tracker link... Maybe it helps..." Saying to Brandon: "Thanks for the introduction... I've got this... See you later, bud..." Both men understood and winked at Michael. 

Tomas took Mike to his apartment. A tiny but comfortable place. It connected the restaurant and the motel to each other. When he closed the door behind Mikey, Tomas fell sobbing in his arms. There was nothing over from the butch front that Tomas had kept up all evening. Michael just let him whale on his shoulder.
Once Tomas calmed down, he looked at Michael. He opened his mouth to mutter yet another apology. But Mikey forstalled him. Kissing Tomas gently on the cheek. "It's okay... I am not going to leave you... Unless you want me to, Tomas... I've got an appointment at 10 AM... But until breakfast, you can have me if you want, T-man..."

The stud started to smile. "Oh, you know about that?... Thought you didn't know..." muttered Tomas apologetically.
"Shut up... Those videos taught me a thing or two growing up... I loved watching those domination porn videos of yours... Fuck... I loved all of them..." said Mikey as he saw the smile return to Tomas's face. "But if you want me to leave... Then I'd need an address for a cheap hotel... On the other hand... If you can use a friend to keep an eye on you... Then... I guess... I'd need a place to park my car... I'd hate for those assholes to set it alight... Awe... Sorry, man... I should not have put it that way..." said Mikey with a tremble in his voice.

Tomas looked at the floor for a few seconds. Thinking hard. "Drive your car around front... I'll open up the gate... and you can park it in one of my garages..." he said with a heavy sigh. "And Mikey... Please stay... I don't want to be by myself tonight... My bed feels way too cold to sleep in it alone..."

Tomas took Michael out back to where Mike had parked his hot hatchback. Then went back inside to open the gate to his private parking spot on the other side of his apartment. Opening one of the three garage bays. When Michael had put his car inside, the two guys gravitated toward each other again. But Mikey's mouth fell open. Johnson owned a black Pontiac Trans Am. It was clear this was Tomas's pride and joy. He had spent a shit load of cash on it rebuilding the thing. It had all the bells and whistles. But that was not all. Tomas also had a full motorbike workshop. A Harley bobber and a mat black street legal Honda dirt bike. Michael had wet dreams about owning something like that Honda.

When Tomas saw Mikey's glazed look, he said: "Go on, sit on it... Try it on for size..."
Mikey nearly dropped a load in his pants when his nuts got crushed between the tank and the leather seat. Not made any easier when Tomas jumped on the back. Sticking the key in the ignition and revving up the bike. Holding on to Michael. One hand over the boy's heart, the other between his legs.
"Want to try me on for size too, Mikey?... I could do with a bit of worshiping myself..." grunted Tomas in his ear.

The only thought that spooked through Michael's horny brain was: "SCORE!..." Back inside the cozy apartment, Mikey put his hands into Tomas's. Pulled him in close and pouted his lips. Tomas tilted his head and planted his own onto Michael's. What followed was the hottest kissing session Mikey had ever experienced. It took the two hot twinky hunks ages to break apart. And even then. Their lips locked right back together as if they had swallowed magnets.

Tomas started to undress Michael. And Mikey loved that Tomas took control. Somehow or other, he knew Tomas would not take advantage of him but that he was in for the hottest night of his life. The excitement got the better of them. Tomas put his arm around Mikey's back and hooked the other behind his knees, lifting the naked curly head twink up effortlessly. Dropping Mike, from a height, onto the kingsized bed. Michael knew Tomas was well hung. But he got a little scared when the ten-inch dick slapped onto his face. Tomas grinned: "Don't worry... I'll take it nice and slow... Those domination videos only showed one side of me... Unless you want to get tied up and abused, of course..."

"Fucking hell, NO!... I am a little afraid of bondage shit like that... I do like to get told what needs doing... But even that... O fuck... I don't know how to explain it..." said Mikey worriedly.
"Dude... your not afraid of bondage... Nor of domination... You just fear not being in complete control... I had the same issue!... That's why I became a top... But for you, buddy... I will let you ride me to heaven and back..." replied Tomas.

"Awe, man... No... Take my ass... Fuck me raw if you want it... Hold on to me and split me in two... I'll tell you if you need to tap the brakes a little... If you're going to command me... Then know I might chicken out... Ignore that and do it anyway..." sighed Michael as he felt Tomas glide his body back. Laying down on top of the boy.
Tomas softly whispered to Mike: "It's been a while for me... So forgive me if I cum too quickly..."
"Dude... Don't worry about it... Use any whole you like..." said Mikey hotly.

However, it was like riding a bike for Tomas. After the initial penetration, it came back to him in floods. He started talking dirty and making demanding comments. Tomas got quite rude about the whole thing. But he made sure Mikey understood they were only words. The sex itself was amazingly tender and long-lasting. The two flip-fucked each other for nearly two hours. Trying more exciting positions than ever. Tommy went deeper than Michael had ever expected to take the ten-pounder. T-man rudely fucked his mind, body, and soul. Dominating the shit out of Mikey. Making him feel loved at the same time.

Hours later, Mikey's cock was still buried deep in T-man's horny ass. Exhausted, the studs lay spooned on their sides. Sperm was dripping from every body orifice. Mike grabbed his phone a took a few selfies with Tomas. But when it took too long, Johnson looked over his shoulder, asking Michael: "What are you doing, honey?..."
"I forgot to text the GPS tracker link to Roy Peterson... And well... This photo... Can I send it to Brandon?..." Mikey answered.
"Hell yeah... He'd get a kick out of that..." said T-man. "But... buddy... You are fucking amazing... And I am not just saying that either... I have done many guys... But this was bloody enjoyable... I do hope we can do this again sometime..."

"I do think we can... I am planning on buying a house here... I have a part-time job lined up at Grunnings... And well, I just fucked my favorite pornstar... So... Hell yeah... You can dominate the shit out of me anytime you want, Tommy... Heck, if you want... You can teach me the doubtful joy of getting tied up while you do me..." said Michael with a heavy grunt as he finally slid out of Tomas.

"Cool... Let's jump in the shower... Then we only have 5 hours to sleep..." grinned Tomas. Rolling over to kiss Mikey in thanks.
Mikey asked where Tomas kept clean sheets for the bed. While Mike switched the bedding, Tommy jumped in the shower. When Mikey got back, Tommy was already anticipating him. Stroking his big dick seductively. Watching how Mikey toweled his thick curly hair dry. When Michael crawled next to Tomas, he dove under the sheets and gave the ten-pounder a well-deserved goodnight kiss. Drained and happy, Mikey fell asleep in Tommy's broad arms. 

< Continued in chapter 3 >

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And if your hands are not too dirty from all the spunk! ;-)

(C) StrykerJ - 09-2022