My summer of sex with Cowboy

Chapter 52

I'm not sure how I feel about this sex I'm having with Dickie. My ass is still sore from all the paddling, but it's not that. It won't be painful in an hour, and it's not a problem now. The ironic thing about the extra paddling is it's intended to increase my submissiveness, but it's making me question if I even need sub/dom sex.  

Morning sex with pussy boys is to eliminate horniness from developing during the day but maybe it doesn't need to be of the sub/dom variety. Hell, it's been almost three months since Richard, then Bruce, sexually dominated me into craving sub/dom sex the way I used to crave it back in prep school, but that effect should be wearing off by now I should think. 

Yeah, except I'm not giving it a chance to wear off because I keep doing it with Dickie. So, I need to stop that and do a trial run to see if I get my rocks off sufficiently with normal sex, which I don't think Dickie will go along with because he has a preconceived notion that so-called 'S' type clients like me need paddling. Well, maybe I need to hire a pussy boy who doesn't have that preconceived notion, except I paid in advance for Dickie all week.

Pondering that, I leave the hotel at eleven-thirty and walk to the beach, where I rent a chair and umbrella from Markie. He's extra grumpy today, so I'm guessing the poor kid is having trouble with his boyfriend again. He doesn't want to banter with me, so I give him a break and don't bother him too much. It's a beautiful day, but I'm missing the company of Cowboy and Lee, who are off waterskiing in Ocean City. They were supposed to do that yesterday, but Lee had problems with his motorbike. Waterskiing sounds like fun, so I'm going to try talking Bruce into doing that with me if he ever has a day off work. 

Okay, so how do I feel? Hmm, I feel pretty fucking good, and that's a big part of the problem. Dickie's a super-hot dom, and the paddling gets me feeling so fucking submissive I'm groveling in our sub/dom sex. Saying no to that won't be easy, but I'm committed to doing it. Tomorrow will likely be a dud of a sex day for me if I tell Dickie what I'm thinking, as he has already made it clear he doesn't need my business, so I don't see him budging from his insistence on paddling. I expect him to reject my idea of having regular sex, which will leave me without morning sex tomorrow, and I'll forfeit the money. That's not too cool, but... 

Wait, though, I can't take a chance of being horny all the time I'm with Bruce when everything is finally going in the right direction with him. Before I reject Dickie's dominant sex, I'll call Richard to positively have an alternative. A pussy boy who won't do dominant, although we'll probably end up doing it in my car because I'm not throwing Dickie out of the room again. I don't care about the room and prepaid Dickie as I'm psyched to see where I might stand without the sub/dom sex. I shouldn't NEED it.

Later, Bruce and I have a good afternoon on the beach without any further 'boyfriend' discussions. No pressure on Bruce to perform sexually. That's my promise. I feel a different vibe from Bruce, though. It's knowing glances with grins, little touching, and just a warm, affectionate atmosphere with him. We have a very domestic-type 'family' evening. After showering, we defrost steaks for dinner. Cowboy cooks the steaks on the grill, and Lee makes French fries from frozen ones. Bruce's salad and corn on the cob are included, so, yeah, we're eating very well in the neighborhood. Totally relaxed evening... it's nice.

We clean up the kitchen, then smoke pot on the balcony, all four of us getting into a giggling fit. Then, Bruce and I are in bed later than usual and do twenty minutes of cuddling and murmuring about how well we feel things are shaping up before drifting off to sleep without sex. Then, of course, we were extra tired Tuesday morning because we didn't get to sleep until after ten o'clock. 

After his shower, Bruce gets me up at five-twenty and, like a zombie, I dress in a bathing suit and T-shirt, then off we go to get Bruce to work on time. He dozes off during the half-hour drive to Atlantic City, we do a kiss goodbye, which feels just right, and he goes to work while I sit in the car feeling nervous about telling Dickie what I need to tell him. Fuck, why do I make everything so complicated?

Parking at the hotel, I take two deep breaths, building determination because I need to be firm about this, and then get out of the car and go directly to the hotel room. Merely tapping on the door gets Dickie to open it right away, saying, "Good, you're on time." Gripping the back of my neck, squeezing hard, he says, "C'mon, get in here!" 

This morning he looks very rested, the perfect example of a clean-cut pussy boy. He's also all business, wearing only jockey shorts, ready to do his job. Both beds are made, so I can't tell which one he slept in last night. He's a neat freak.

He taps my ass with the paddle, saying, "Two hundred dollars." Without thinking, I give him two hundred-dollar bills, and he turns away to drop them on the bureau, saying, "Get undressed!" I'm taking my shirt off and realize, fuck it, I'm not going to say anything this morning. Fifteen seconds later, I'm holding the bottom bed board, pushing my ass out, and, "Swoosh," WHACK!"

"Ow!" and slip into a submissive trance, one that gets deeper and deeper with each "Swoosh, WHACK!" Six of them, then he asks, "Do you deserve another?" In a timid voice, I go, "Yes, Dickie, please," and I eventually get three more.

The next thing I know, I'm sucking and licking Dickie's cock and balls like a madman, getting even more submissive, my cock an iron rod so hard it doesn't move. I'm submissively higher than I've been in weeks. Deliriously submissive, thinking Dickie is the coolest, sexiest, hottest dominant 'top' I've ever known, and I'm grateful to him.

He has me docile as a lamb holding the bedboard at the foot of the bed, again, my ass pushed out and up, getting paddled, groveling in submissiveness again, my cock sticking straight out and throbbing. This time, Dickie won't do extra paddling. After the sixth one, he mutters, "Your buttocks look puffy, so six is all you get this time." My buttocks are burning like lighted matches, so I go, "Yes, Dickie."

He says, "Stay there, don't move a muscle." I hear him ripping open a condom, and two seconds later, he rams his cock inside me. Omigod, two plops of precum drop to the floor; I almost climax, and then it's three or four minutes of exotic pleasure with his crotch slapping against my hot, hurting butt cheeks, and it feels good, too, to believe.

A huge quickly-building climax follows, and I'm soon blowing a super-hot load of cum in a screaming fast stream directly at the end of the mattress. Then my after-fuck paddling, "Swoosh, WHACK! and I'm off again floating in an ocean of submissiveness, each whack feeling better than the one before it. My buttocks are quivering, the pain coming in waves as I scrunch my face, dealing with it, but I'm so high on submissiveness I don't utter a word.

Finished the final paddling of this date, Dickie casually says, "Well, okay, this was a good date, and you were a damn good client. Stand up now, and I'll reward you for being a good boy." As I slowly let go of the bed board and stand, he says, "I'm feeling great being able to provide you with what you need. I've discovered the proper formula for you." When I'm fully standing, both my hand goes immediately to my butt cheeks, which feel very hot. 

Standing in front of me, Dickie puts both hands behind my neck, pulls my head down, and gives me one of his talented kisses that usually cost twenty-five bucks a minute. My hands are still caressing my butt cheeks, or I'd have given his tight smallish body the hug of his life. It's a tongue-in-my-mouth kiss done like a professional pussy boy, and it got my dick, still dripping a droplet of cum, hard again.

He takes his mouth away and lets go of me, saying, "This is how our dates should go every time. You were very obedient today, even doing what you were supposed to before I needed to tell you. And I like that you didn't have a lot to say. That's the way it should be when you're with your dom. Now, get dressed and give me a tip, then get outta here. You're done." 

"Yes, Dickie." I get dressed quickly, give him a hundred-dollar bill, then leave as he's saying, "Same time, same station, tomorrow," and the room door slams shut. 

In a trance, I'm riding down in the same elevator that fifteen minutes ago I got off. My butt cheeks are still smarting and burning, but what a tremendous fifteen minutes that was. It was otherworldly, a new experience of fast and furious paddling before and after both my oral and anal sex. Omigod, it was so hot I started shivering... what a fucking thrill ride that was!

Sitting in the car on my sore, paddled ass, I have after-effects, shaking so hard I can't light a cigarette. My butt cheeks are burning, so I get out of the car and stand as the shaking subsides, and I feel fabulous. Omigod, Dickie let me suck his cock for five or six minutes until I got a nice smear of his precum on my tongue. He smelled and felt so good today, and the orgasm I had was phenomenal. Thinking about it makes me shudder. What a dominant stud he was this morning.

It's too early to get breakfast at the cafe. Christ, it's only six-twenty-five! How ironic is it that I leave Jon Scheyer's training program that included Sandy paddling the shit out of me, not literally, and now Dickie insists it's exactly what I need? My ass is too sore to sit on the car seat for twenty-minute drive back home, so, leaving the car, I walk to the beach in a fog, but a super good fog, still dripping with submissiveness. Gee, usually I lose submissiveness as soon as Dickie leaves, or I leave. Plus, I got a bonus kiss from Dickie to go with this bonus submissiveness. 

Walking down the beach to the ocean, I'm wading aimlessly in water only to my ankles for like ten minutes before it hits me that this morning with Dickie wasn't supposed to happen the way it happened, not at all! What the fuck? Shaking my head, I scream, "You dumb ass!" My submissive trance dissolves in the wind as I glance around to see if anyone heard me scream. No, there's only one dumb ass walking in the ankle-deep ocean water at six-thirty in the morning, and that dumb ass is me. Balls! 

Turning around, I stalk back to my car and to hell with my sore ass; I get in the car and drive away, tires squealing. I'm so pissed off I almost sideswipe a seafood delivery truck. The driver blasts his horn while screaming red-faced at me, not that I can hear him with both our windows up. That near-miss brings me back to my senses, and I force myself to slow down, then pull over at a Dunkin' store for a large coffee.

The coffee shop is part of a strip mall with six other stores, so I drink the coffee while wandering down the sidewalk past the other stores as I run over what happened in the hotel room. I thought I was committed to telling him I wanted to try regular sex, eliminating the sub/dom aspect that we've been doing for the past ten days. I wasn't nearly as committed to doing that as I thought because I got caught up in his well-rested, hyper-energetic dominance and fell right in line doing what I was told.

Hmm, subconsciously, I must have wanted to experience his sub/dom sex again, and I must admit it was our best date ever... the best submissiveness I've ever experienced, and then a fabulous orgasm. Still, it was only a fifteen-minute date for two hundred dollars, a date that didn't even highlight the sex as much as it did the submissiveness. 

That isn't worth two hundred, is it? And, no, with the tip, it was three hundred dollars! I was in a fog and can barely remember a lot of it. Well, I remember my climax because it was off-the-charts spectacular. Hmm, I guess I did get my money's worth when I considered the climax I had. I'd be hard-pressed to make an argument with Dickie that I didn't get my money's worth.

Yeah, he did his job, but it's not the job I wanted. I can't blame him, though. I never got around to telling him what I wanted. Maybe I don't want what I think I want. Yeah, why rush into this? Wow, I just got another shiver thinking about doing it Wednesday the same way it went today. Or, I could send Dickie a text right now explaining my idea of testing to see if I'm over the need for sub/dom sex. I'd explain how I still want sex in the morning, but regular old-fashioned gay anal intercourse. Well, plus oral sex first to get us going. 

Sitting on a bench at a bus stop, I finish my coffee and, holding the empty paper cup, decide I don't want to send Dickie that text. Why should I? If he stretched out our date a little tomorrow, that would give me a little more for my money. What's the harm in doing one more day of that sub/dom experience with him? I mean, it was extraordinary and something to remember. I can't imagine it'll be as good as it was today, but I've paid Richard already, and he's not in the business of refunding money, so I'll do it with Dickie on Thursday too, but that will be the last time. Friday would be free anyway, and if Dickie won't do regular sex, perhaps Richard will assign another pussy boy since I did pay the four days in a row.

Hmm, I'm bullshitting myself 'cause the money is insignificant. I'm trying to justify to myself that I should finish out the week with Dickie because I've already paid for it when the truth is I'm enthralled with the idea of having more dates with Dickie like the one we had today. And why shouldn't I? I sure as shit am not the least bit horny, which is the reason for having this sex in the morning. 

Getting off the bench, I rub my buttocks vigorously to get the blood flowing, feeling relieved, feeling excited about tomorrow morning. Yeah, it took me by surprise this morning, but tomorrow, I'll know what to expect and be able to appreciate the whole process rather than just the final result of a massive orgasm. Walking to my car, I'm rubbing my ass again. It's tender, but I just sat on that hard bench for ten minutes without thinking about my ass, so how bad could it be?

Getting in the car, thinking about the paddlings Dickie gave me this morning, I feel my dick getting firm. Yeah, the last couple of paddlings were almost sexual. I remember being disappointed when he refused to do the extra whacks, plus I already had a hard-on when I started sucking and licking his privates. It's a miracle I didn't blow my load performing the oral sex. Tomorrow, I want to try staying more clearheaded, so I can appreciate each dominant step Dickie takes, each phase of the sub/dom sex, and I mean right from the initial paddling right on through to the final one, getting the full joy of the oral and anal sex in between.

This frame of mind is far superior to the mopey one of chastising me for continuing with Dickie's elevated dominance. I mean, it's just for a few more days. Hell, Bruce could be working for almost six more weeks, which gives me plenty of time to test my need, or lack of need for sub/dom sex next week. I'm still very interested in my hypothesis that after three months, I probably don't need sub/dom sex anymore, but there isn't any rush about it. I'll set a firm date for experimenting with that, um, Saturday. That's when I'll try regular generic sex, if necessary, with someone other than Dickie. I feel excellent about this revised agenda. Whew, that's a load off my mind!

Back at the apartment, I see Cowboy's and Lee's bedroom door is closed, so they're still sleeping. And why wouldn't they still be sleeping at seven-thirty? I'm still too riled up to sleep even though we went to sleep late last night and were still up at five-thirty. My butt cheeks are fine now, as I knew they would be. 

Smoking a cigarette on the balcony, I get a boner thinking about those fifteen minutes with Dickie. I wish I could remember more details as it went by so fast, and some of it is a blur. I could go for a second round with Dickie right now. Remembering how he looked this morning is arousing. He was the perfect pussy boy for my tastes. I can't visualize a better one, but there's something niggling at the back of my mind. What is it? Oh, it's the two hundred dollars Dickie's been charging me for ten to fifteen minutes. Why in the hell am I even thinking about that, though? It must be Bruce's money-conscious influence!

I'm calm enough to get in bed for a couple of hours. Hey, maybe tomorrow I'll pay an extra fifty to nap with Dickie. Yep, that's what I'll do. Jeez, I'm looking forward to tomorrow. Surprisingly, I slept until ten minutes of eleven and was super rested. I felt even more fantastic than before I took a nap. I'm not as hyper as I was before going to sleep, but I still feel the same way about finishing the week with Dickie. Then, on Saturday, I'll follow through with my plan to test if I need the sub/dom sex. That's firm!

I take a shower, brush my teeth again, and, in the best mood ever, I'm ready to have a great day. Then, in the kitchen, I see a note from Cowboy saying they're off to Wildwood to have one last day on the boardwalk there before college. Shit, I was looking forward to spending time with them on the beach. I like listening to them and watching how they get along, imagining how it could have been for me as a nineteen-year-old gay guy if I hadn't hooked up with Ronny,  pretending I was a badass like him.

Drinking a can of Coke, I Google 'Waterskiing in Atlantic City. Hmm, Bruce, and my best option is Ocean City, twenty miles from AC. Waterskiing on the bay there, and I see ads for rental places offering motorboats and skis. There are lessons, too if Bruce wants one. I already know how to waterski. Okay, now I've got some details to tell Bruce, hoping he'll have off work Saturday and he'll want to learn how to waterski. It's easy.... 

Putting the top down, I drive back to Atlantic City; I'm again thinking about this morning's date with Dickie and how I could go for a second date with him right now. Wow, that would set me up unbelievably fantastic. Or is that overdoing it? I'm supposed to be weaning myself off multiple sexual activities. Ah, shit, it would be overdoing a good thing to go for seconds today. God, I'd like to, though, haha! I just feel so fucking good, that's what it is.

Parking at the lot near the boardwalk ramp and the beach chair rental booth, I pay the attendant at the parking lot's entrance, asking, "How are you this morning, Bill?" 

He's a fat, bald guy in his forties. He takes my money, mumbling, "Well, aren't you in a cheerful mood today." I go, "Yep, um, what do you do after Labor Day?" Giving me change from a twenty, he says, "I'm a middle school science teacher at Cape May High School." 

I cheerfully ask, "Are you looking forward to getting back at that?" He hesitates, then goes, "Yeah, I think I am." I nod, "Good luck," and drive into the lot, park, and put the top up, smiling to myself, feeling, as Bill said, cheerful.

Carrying a towel, I walk to the rental booth, put a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, and say, "Good morning, Markie! Beautiful day, huh?" He's sitting, counting money from the register, then writing something in a ledger. Jesus, he has another terrible haircut. Without looking up, he says, "Just a second." 

"Yeah, no problem. Um, I see your boyfriend has been cutting your hair again." He blushes, looks up, and goes, "Gee, how can you tell?" Shrugging, I go, "It's not as bad as the last time."

Standing, he says, "Not that it's any of your business. We argued the night before, and we made up last night. This is a make-up haircut. We needed haircuts anyway, ya know, for going back to school." 

I'm like, "And you like school, so I guess you're psyched about going back, huh?" Nodding, he gives me the change from my twenty, then sets out a chair in front of the counter. I grab him and hug him kissing him on his cheek, saying, "I'm going to miss you!" He tries not to grin as I let go of him. Wiping his cheek, he mutters, "You can come to school with me as my bodyguard. I already told you that."

He shoulders an umbrella and, carrying the chair, I follow him down the beach, saying, "That's tempting, Markie, except it sounds boring. I'd beat up some kid, then what would I do the rest of the day?" 

He says, "You'd probably flirt with every boy you see." I mutter, "Nope, you're the only boy I flirt with. I've got a boyfriend." As he grunts, pushing the umbrella deep in the sand, he mutters, "Lucky me." Rubbing his butchered hair, I give him ten bucks, saying, "You're fun to flirt with, and I'm serious; I'm going to miss seeing you every day and flirting with you." 

He grins, making him look cute for a flash there as he mumbles, "Me too, and thanks for all your generosity." Opening the beach chair, I mutter, "You're welcome," and he trudges through the hot sand back to the rental booth. He's an independent kid and quite the hot shit too, and I will miss him for real.

It's insane how good I feel, and why wouldn't I feel like this? Things are obviously getting better between Bruce and me, and when he's done working at the cafe in five or six weeks, maybe it'll be him and me having sex exclusively. If that's too optimistic, I'll deal with it. 

Sooner or later, being honest about it, I'll miss sub/dom sex when Bruce and I are making love. Well, oh man, this has been, hands down, the best summer of sex I've ever had in my life, and the pussy boys have been a significant part of it. I never thought I'd be grateful to Richard, but he made it all possible, with the result being me in a possible, probable real-life love affair with Bruce. Making love with him is the next step, but to get there, I'm still dependent on pussy boys keeping my oversexed horniness under control.

My dick tightens up as I again relive in my head this morning with Dickie. With my fingers shaking a little, I light a cigarette and reconfirm that no matter how awesome it might be, my last date with Dickie will be Friday. Then, I'll be going cold turkey, which, for me, is something like I imagine it is for drug addicts giving up cocaine or some other drug addiction, but I need to do it for my self-image. I need to prove to myself I've got sufficient willpower to carry through and do something I said I would do. I didn't do it today, and I'm not doing it all week, but Saturday is the next big test.

I'm so relaxed, so calm, I find myself smiling at nothing in particular, it's just a feeling-good smile. There were two girls on a beach blanket ten feet to my right, and one of them saw me smiling. It was the one with a dragon tattoo on her leg. She says, "Hey, Navy Seal, you've got a nice smile." 

She noticed the tattoo of the Seal Trident on my arm. It's only an inch and a half, so she's got good eyesight; plus, she must know at least one guy in the Navy Seals to recognize what my tattoo represents.

I'm usually friendly when a young lady strikes up a conversation, and today, I'm especially friendly, saying, "Well, aren't you nice? And you recognized the trident as a Navy Seal insignia, so your boyfriend is a Seal, right?" 

She sits up and says, "No, he's just a guy I know from the neighborhood. He'd sometimes show up in uniform at neighborhood picnics. He's five years older than me, and I had a crush on him back in the day." 

Back in the day couldn't have been too long ago as she doesn't appear to be older than twenty-one, at the most. Her girlfriend, about the same age but cuter, smiles and goes,  "You're waiting for your girlfriend, right?" 

I grin, "Nope; I don't have a girlfriend." She sits up and says, "Do you want one? I'm available." The three of us banter back and forth for ten minutes before I tell them I'm gay. The first girl goes, "Oh, poo! The good ones are either married or gay." 

Not an original line, but I like that they weren't shocked when I said I was gay. Alternative sexual orientation is becoming more accepted. The cute one asks, "Well, do you have a boyfriend?" 

"Yep that I do have of those," and she goes, "Of course, you do. You're hot." I say, "Yes, it is hot today. I'm going in for a swim to cool off." She snickers, mumbling, "You know what I meant."

Swimming out far enough to get the lifeguard standing in his highchair and waving at me while blowing his whistle, I then start my swim and do more than a mile. When I get back to my chair, the girls are gone, probably having lunch somewhere. Hey, I'm hungry too. No breakfast today, so after drying off, I have lunch at the cafe. And, oh boy, I get that smile from Bruce as soon as I walk into the cafe!

It's not busy in here because it's past the lunch hour rush, plus it's Tuesday, and the weekenders are long gone. Bruce comes right over and says, "Well, will ya look at the smile on your face! You are one good-looking motherfucker, ain'tcha?" 

"I don't know about that, but a couple of girls on the beach tried to pick me up." He says, "I don't doubt that for a second, but I might need to scratch a couple of bitches eyes out if they're not careful who they flirt with." We chuckle, then I ask him about waterskiing, and he reminds me we tried that weeks ago, but he's up for doing it tomorrow after work. Well, okay then, I'll reserve a motorboat and skis.

I have a cheesesteak for lunch with a Coke. The Coke is good, but not the cheesesteak, although I eat the whole thing. When I'm walking out, Bruce stops me and whispers, "I'm horny for you again." I stop, my heart goes bong, bong, bong. "What?"

"It makes me nervous, but I have desire for you, Zach. You're too good to be true and I wanna make you happy." 

"But, will it make you happy, Bruce?"  "Yes, I want to try it again." I smile, "I'm thrilled, but you decide when. There's no rush."

Later, when Bruce joins me on the beach, we talk more about our plans to go waterskiing tomorrow, but not about 'that,' although we're very boyfriend-ish, smiling too much and making a sexy thing out of spreading sunblock.

I got a text from Cowboy saying we shouldn't wait for Lee and him for dinner tonight. Bruce and I decide we'll eat out, and then we do our half-mile swim, which I claim is a mile. We finally leave the beach at six, with Bruce acting very touchy-feely and bumping against me as we walk to the car, saying, "Maybe we can lay together and cuddle a little, Zach."

Man, this is Bruce's fourth or fifth incarnation, with a different personality and view of the world around him, and this latest one is encouraging. It seems like something he wants to happen, something he's initiated. Taking a big chance, I ask, "Are you sure this isn't too soon, Bruce?"

"I don't know. I know I want us to be more, um, I don't know. Try it with me, okay?"

During these past three months, he's changed incrementally from a street tough to a fantastic lover, but that was acting as if he felt he had an obligation to satisfy me sexually after all I've done for him, etc. Then, he was honest that he wasn't enjoying sex all that much, and we tried having sex only once a day, but that was stressful to him as it still felt like an obligation, so we'd had no sex at all. Then, a few days ago, he wanted us to be boyfriends again, and now this. 

"I'll try anything with you, Bruce." A tear runs down his cheek this time. A tear ran down my cheek last time, so we're even tear-wise. We don't say anything else as we drive to the apartment. When we are inside, he smiles and takes my hand, pulling me to the bedroom.

After slowly undressing and maintaining eye contact, we make out gently, and I immediately notice the difference. Bruce has no tension in him. Every other time we made out, he was tense. It didn't matter how sexy and hot he got; he never relaxed, and now there is no tension. It's mind-boggling.

Standing, we make out and hug gently, and I fall into this dreamy and pleasant rhythm of kissing and hugging, everything feeling unhurried. After a few minutes, I feel a great relief when it's Bruce who directs us subtly to lie on the bed, never leaving each other's arms. I've never made out with anyone like this before. It's gently passionate where I'm used to hot and furious, our mouths smearing wetness as our hands are rubbing and gripping buttocks, grinding our hips, our boners straight up and tight between our bellies. Breathtaking make-outs, sexuality almost out of control. precum dripping boners, etc., etc.

This is nothing like that, except we have boners. A quiet moan of arousal from Bruce was when I felt his boner next to mine, and then he whispered, "Would you get a condom for me, Zach?
When we slowly fell over onto the bed, Bruce was on top of me. I reached out to the nightstand next to me, pulled the drawer out, reached in for a condom, and passed it to Bruce, who smiled at me. He looked calm as he took a deep breath, sat up, and tore open the condom packet, still looking at me. Everything seemed fuzzy and, um, very nice. That's what it was... very nice, but sexy enough for Bruce and I to have erections.

The lubricated Condon on his nice-looking boner, Bruce raises his eyebrows, nods, and, in a dream state, I pull my legs back, then pull them back harder, my back arching. I stifled a moan of arousal as Bruce, his knees spread, guided his boner to my anus, and his eyes shone with tears as he pushed his slippery boner inside me. We both gasped when the head spread me wide open, forcing its way inside, then pushing in, all seven engorged inches. 

Staring into his eyes, it was the most erotic entry I can ever remember, and precum, a lot of it, drooling down the shaft of my boner. Bruce slowly fucked me with full seven-inch entries and withdrawals that felt indescribably sexy, and I shuddered and shivered, pulling my legs back as if it meant life or death, continuing to stare at him as if I'd never been fucked before. 

Pleasure flowed from my prostate, my anus itching with pleasure as Bruce's slow-moving rock of a penis hit every nerve ending in its way. Leaning over me, above me, his hands on my shoulders, I felt dominated, although Bruce was as gentle as I've ever been fucked, and it went on for an incredibly long time, my cock turning to iron and pulsating, sticking straight up, the wet head bumping Bruce's belly every other slow thrust of his hips. 

Only after a gasping two minutes of thinking that I'd climax any second but couldn't did it get to be bothersome as the need to cum began running wild, but Bruce wouldn't speed up the thrusting. A few minutes ago, he closed his eyes; I think he entered a different wheel of existence or something. I'm squirming and grunting, 'Ah, ah, ooh, Bruce, I..." Slow thrust, thrust, thrust, and finally I felt my climax getting over the top, and then BANG, I squealed and let go of my legs thrashing around so much Bruce's cock came out of my ass, but I could see the ball of cum at the end, so he had climaxed with me or before me and was still thrusting to get me 'off.'

Bruce murmured, "I almost passed out. What a relief! I mean, that was, um... I can't believe how good that felt." It was so unusual that I shuddered again, stretching out my legs. Bruce had slid off the end of the bed and padded into the bathroom. My cum shot had hit him in the chest. I quickly got up and followed him into the bathroom, muttering, "That was magical, Bruce. Sorry about blasting you with cum."

He's already flushed the condom and is washing his torso, saying, "It was very special, Zach. Um, but could we please not talk about it now? I love you, but please let me absorb that special experience, and we'll talk about it later."

Nodding, I murmur, "Sure, of course." I'm washing up next to him and catch his eyes in the mirror. He smiles a little smile and looks away. I wonder if this is how someone having sex for the first time might act; not sure if it was as good as she/he thinks it was. Needs to think about it.

I don't know, but I'm very encouraged. Thinking about it, being honest about it, my climax wasn't, for instance, nearly as explosive as this morning's climax with Dickie was. Not even close, but I love Bruce, and I barely like Dickie, so this climax I prefer of the two. And that's weird but true.
We don't speak of it, and Bruce wants to shower again, so he showers first, and then I go second. We get dressed and Bruce murmurs, "Thanks, Bruce. It was good, wasn't it."

"Very good, Bruce. Should we toast ourselves?" 

"We'd be fools not to." 

It's his smiles at me that are encouraging me almost as much as that sex. Recently, there has been love in his smile I never saw before. We have a shot of Jim Beam and a can of Bud, discussing where we'll eat tonight. Not wanting to drive back to Atlantic City, we eat at a Friendly's restaurant three miles from the apartment, having sandwiches and milkshakes. It is a nice change from drinking booze at dinner. Back home, we smoke two joints and, in a fog of marijuana, go to sleep at nine.

Wednesday morning, we leave the apartment at five-twenty-five and get to Atlantic City at ten-of-six. Then, the BMW idling at the ramp to the boardwalk, Bruce kisses me goodbye with extra lip action, and my heart thumps as I watch him jogging up the ramp. 

Rubbing my face, I try contemplating NOT going to the hotel for morning sub/dom sex with Dickie. It might seem to many crazy for me even to be considering Dickie sex after Bruce finally provided sex last night, except they forget that I had that wonderful sex with Dickie yesterday morning. So I wasn't climbing the walls horny and was more than content with that slow sex, that was sweet and loving but almost beginner's sex with Bruce. Climbing the walls horny, I would have ruined it.

Still sitting in my top-down idling car, I can't lie to myself, though; I know I'm going to the hotel. I could tell myself I'm doing it for Bruce so that I won't be uncontrollably itching for sex when I see him around four o'clock, but that wouldn't be the whole story. I do want to be sexually satisfied to the point of not climbing the walls the next time Bruce and I do it. The thing is, I do not expect him to want to do tonight. So, yes, I want to be in a proper sexual frame of mind for next time with Bruce, that is part of it, but Dickie's enhanced sub/dom sex is molten hot lately, and I want to see, um, I NEED to know if he can duplicate yesterday's experience. I want Bruce to be good with life, but I need to take care of me, too.

And today, as I told myself yesterday, I want to be more alert to every part of the sub/dom sex. I missed some of it yesterday by allowing myself to be too submissive, foggily submissive. Dickie's right; he has found the formula with extra paddling that, crazy as it seems, I'm looking forward to.  Walking, I can take a shortcut, so it's only a block and a half from the boardwalk.

I don't want to walk, though, so I force myself to drive cautiously because now I'm caught up in anticipation of it and the need for my 'fix.' Dickie's sub/dom sex is my addictive drug, and I'm seriously jittery going up in the elevator but filled with excitement too. Walking down the hall, I'm unconsciously rubbing my ass, then knocking on the door. Dickie opens it, again this morning wearing only underpants, but he's disheveled and needs a shave. 

Gripping the back of my neck, he pulls me into the room and roughly walks me to the corner, the one he's put me in before, saying, "No talking! Stay here with your nose touching while I finish my overnight date with this 'D' type client."

Huh? What'd he say? Submissiveness is already flowing over me as I put a hand on each wall, my nose pressing at the intersection of both. Dropping my right hand, I grope my junk, hearing a deep voice saying, "Bend over more than that, faggot!" Then, the slapping sounds of a hand smacking flesh and Dickie going, "Ow, ow, Goddammit, ow!" Then, "Awww!" and I smell ass. Grunts, then the unique slapping sounds that can only come from males fucking.

Dickie has programmed me so well by now I don't even think about moving my head and glancing at what's going on. I know what's going on... some man is fucking Dickie. The grunting and slapping sounds go on for a seemingly long time before the deep voice goes, "Ahh, yes, yeah!" and then a wheezy sigh from him and two loud smacks against flesh with Dickie timidly saying, "Thank you, Will, that was spectacular." 

The deep voice, "Did I get you off, pussy boy? I always get you pussies off." Dickie's probably lying, "Fabulously, thank you."

Water goes on in the bathroom, then some getting dressed sounds as Dickie's mumbling, "I hope you got your money's worth, Will. If you did, please give good feedback to my mentor, Richard," 

Will gruffly says, "Yeah, sure. You want a tip, right?" Dickie, sounding like me, says timidly, "It's appreciated, yes, but..." Will mocks Dickie by repeating, in a girlie-sounding voice, what Dickie just said, "It's appreciated," then Dickie goes, "Oh, thank you very much, Will." The door opens, and Will mutters, "If Carmen isn't available when I'm in town next month, I'll ask for you. You did okay." 

The door closes, and Dickie, sounding more like himself now, mutters, "A measly fifty bucks tip for an overnighter. Cheap motherfucker." 

Then to me, "I'll be with you in fifteen minutes. I need a hot shower!" With that, he closes the bathroom door, and I hear the shower going on. Well, I should be royally pissed off, but instead, I'm shivering with anxiousness for my turn with Dickie. Part of my anticipation is knowing Dickie will be extra dominant after playing the submissive role to deep-voiced Will.

I'm so impatient I start going up on my toes, then down, up and down, my nose leaving a wet spot at the corner of the walls as I grope my junk. Finally, the bathroom door opens, and the smell of bath gel and aftershave floods the room. I hear the rustling of sheets as Dickie makes the bed, but finally, he grips the back of my neck, pulling me away from the corner, mumbling, "Two hundred dollars," holding out his hand. 

"Yes, Dickie." I get two hundred dollar bills out and hand them to Dickie, now the perfect, clean-cut pussy boy. He even got his hair cut yesterday, and I like the way it looks. Hmm, I'll probably stick with that type of haircut myself. I keep saying I'll change it, but after four Navy Seal years and my on-again off, again pussy boy training, I'm used to this haircut.

Bruce drops the money on the bureau with the other bills, saying, "Get undressed quickly and assume the position." I'm out of my T-shirt and swimsuit in five seconds and then scramble to get over to the bottom of the bed, grabbing the bedboard. "Shoosh, WHACK!" "Ow," and I slip into a submissive trance, my cock getting hard, and, after six whacks, I answer Dickie's question if I deserve more, "Yes, please, Dickie!"
For the next ten minutes, my cock never loses its hardness. Dickie paddles the hell out of me before and after I suck and lick his cock and balls, and then more paddling before and after, he fucks me hard and fast, finally ending with me blowing an intense climax against the end of the mattress. In a daze, I'm handing over another hundred dollars. Then I'm back in the elevator, shivering with submissiveness again while barely touching my red-hot buttocks, my hands close to my buttocks, feeling the heat through my swimsuit.

I don't even try sitting; instead, I will do what I did yesterday. I walk slowly on the beach, trying to remember everything about the hot time I just spent with Dickie. As happened yesterday, a lot of it is a blur. What I remember most is the climax I had. My dick's piss slit still burns from that explosion of cum sizzling out at the speed of light. After walking in ocean water up to my ankles for, well, I don't know how long before my body stops vibrating. Then, what I notice most are my sore buttocks. Dickie didn't get around to me until six-forty because of his other client and then his shower, but once he started on me, I think we were done in ten minutes, and I thought yesterday's fifteen-minute date was too fast.

Huh, I don't recall any more of it today than I did yesterday. My head is clearing, and I say, "This is outrageous!" I don't even bother looking around to see if anyone heard me talking to myself. I'm pissed off now! The massage dates are supposed to be an hour. That's what I pay Richard for. 

That's what I should be bullshit mad about, but instead, I'm mad because I forgot to ask if I could pay fifty dollars to nap with him. No, I don't mean nap with him in the bed he slept in with deep-voiced Will, but the other bed. Turning around, I head back to the hotel. Hell, I wore my bathing suit because I planned to catch up on sleep with Dickie, then go to the beach. He owes me that much.

As soon as I get on the elevator, I start losing my confidence and feel a submissive vibe leaking into my head. My buttocks have recovered enough by now that I can at least rub them as I walk down the hall to Dickie's room, um, my room. No, it's Dickie's room; who am I kidding? Feeling timid now, I hesitate, then tentatively tap on the door. Dickie, opens the door looking quizzical, saying, "Zach?" I go, "I want to nap with you." He shrugs, "Um, I don't need a nap. Hey, are you okay?"

See, he can act human when he's not working. I say, "Can I talk with you?" He nods his head that I should come in, and, on the spur of the moment, I tell him what I'm trying to do about weaning off the sub/dom sex. He says, "Jesus, I don't want to lose you as a client. I've had great luck ever since the first time you hired me. You changed my luck, and I've made more money recently than ever before, so I feel a commitment to you. Here's what I'll do. Tomorrow we do a routine suck and fuck without the paddling. You can see if that gets your oversexed horniness under control. If it doesn't, we'll try something else, okay?"

Huh, I never expected he'd be so willing to cooperate like this. The thing is, I'm having a hard time committing to his generous offer. I go, "Oh, um, ah, I'm not sure I can give up on your sub/dom sex quite yet, Dickie. Ah, can we do it again tomorrow and then Friday try what you said?"

He shakes his head, "No, you'll just say the same thing tomorrow. You'll want it again." I'm like, "Oh, um, please, just one more day, Dickie. I'll prepare myself mentally better by then." 

He goes, "No, let's try it tomorrow." I go, "Please, please... one more day." He goes, "Well, I can see that you've got it bad for me. Hell, I already knew that. Okay, one more day, but with reduced paddling."

I'm thinking, hesitating, until he goes, "Well, do you agree?" I make a face, mumbling, "Please, Dickie, just one more day with full paddling." 

He's pissed, "Oh, for Christ's sake, you're the client. I was trying to help you out. So, one more day like today, and then that's it unless you have a better idea." 

Nodding, I go, "I just had a brainstorm. How about if tomorrow you do all the paddling, then one less paddle on Friday, and one less the next day, and so forth? It'll take another week doing it, one paddling less each day. How about that?" 

He's like, "Seven more days?" 

I nod, "Yes, please. You're special, Dickie." 

"Okay, for you, I'll do it. You'll need to arrange for Richard to hire me for the next seven days. On the seventh day, you'll do a normal suck, and I'll do a normal fuck for you. Rent this hotel room through a week from now." 

"Yes, thank you, Dickie. Um, can I take a nap with you, please?" He holds his hand out, "Fifty dollars, and you can nap for the rest of your hour's date, meaning forty-five minutes."

"I meant to mention that, um..."

To be continued...