My summer of sex with Cowboy

Chapter 50

I'm walking among many people on the boardwalk, trying not to notice any of them as I try to decide how I feel about that short time with Henry. I don't even know his last name, but I went full circle from not liking him on the beach to gratefully acting as his submissive bottom boy sucking his cock and submissively getting fucked hard by him to not liking him again when we parted. That little arrogant fuck, Henry, took care of my horniness, but it was the weirdest hour and ten minutes of my life.

That's the number one, most recent, thing I've been thinking about, and it leads directly to the number two thing on my mind, which is not being horny during the retraining with Jon Scheyer tomorrow morning. Because of Henry, I won't be, but the odd thing is I've lost my enthusiasm for the pussy boys. For being a pussy boy, not the boys. And I guess I can include Jon, too. I've lost my enthusiasm for him. He never had an enthusiasm for me, and that's part of why I'm starting to think... fuck you, Jon. Fuck you, Eli, and the same for Richard.

Yeah, when he was my hired pussy boy, he did a great job, and he has all the attributes I like in a pussy boy, but then he got promoted and wouldn't service my sexual needs, and then that paddling was added into my training. That got old, and I've been rationalizing away, being stupid, telling myself I liked this, and those stupid things and it was mostly because of the third thing on my mind. The BIG third thing is that I gave up on Bruce way too easily, way too soon.

That's right, my biggest rationalization was pretending I switched my romantic love for Bruce to a brotherly love, a best friend love. What bullshit! Love doesn't get switched around to accommodate anyone. I fell in love with Bruce, and, as crazy as that was, it happened, and I'm still in love him.

Bruce has had a shit-filled, scary life that has somewhat emotionally crippled him, but it's not fatal. He's responded fantastically to being released of the 'boyfriend' title and the sexual responsibilities that go along with that. Without that pressure and stress, he's blossomed and is happy and acting more and more like many twenty-something-year-old young men. He has problems but is a functioning and happy individual. It's different for Bruce than most because of his background, but he's doing good.

I need to support him emotionally and understand the handicaps he's dealing with, but at the same time, without applying pressure, let him know that I'm still in love with him. That's what I'm going to do. In the least dramatic manner possible, back away from the idiotic idea of being a pussy boy and go back to my love affair with Bruce, but without expecting anything from him. There will be no expectations of sex, no once-a-day stress on Bruce, and no expectations that he returns the love, but with hope in my heart that sometime in the future, Bruce falls in love with me, or as close to it as he can get.

I'm smiling because these are my goals, and they're easily within reach right now because there isn't a drop of horniness fucking up my priorities. So, yes, weaning myself off the constant need to get fucked has been and still is my number one priority that makes the rest much more doable. However, I'm kicking off my campaign on all three things on my mind: control my sex urges, walk away from the pussy boy training and Jon Scheyer, and reignite my love affair with Bruce, but without putting any pressure to change on him.

Whew! "That's the project, Seal... get it done! Yes, Sir!" That's what I just said out loud, and I heard grumblings and someone muttering, "Ban drunks from the boardwalk! There are young children here... blah, blah, blah..." They're right. As I turn around and head back to the lot where my car is parked,

During the twenty-minute drive home, I think that Bruce speaks of love, but when he does, I always think he's confusing gratitude for love. Bruce has been open about how grateful he is for the help I've given him, although initially, he was cautious about committing to the 'real world', but he's persevered. I think what he's accomplished is miraculous. Now, he's embracing the best friend theme, and that's a fine starting point for someday slipping from loving best friend to being in love—my impossible dream.

I mean, what the fuck? Love is one of the most studied and written about human emotions but continues to be one of the least understood. For example, is love a biological or cultural phenomenon? Heh heh, how the hell would I know that? What I do know is I want to be with Bruce and desire physical contact with him. I also care about his happiness, and there's passion involved, plus, lately, periods of euphoria as well. So, add that all up, and if that ain't love, I can't imagine what the fuck it is. Bruce has a longer journey to love than I had. His is a much longer journey, but I don't believe it's impossibly long.

While that's how I feel, I do not know how or why those emotions developed in my brain. In Bruce's case, if gratitude is the major reason he eventually feels love for me, at least he's got something concrete to base it on. And, I suppose being grateful to someone is a reason to love them, although that love is different from being in love, which is my dream 

And I don't know why I'm nitpicking this to death. Maybe because I'm sneaking up on the elephant hovering over everything... sex. Bruce has especially been fucked in this area. Not too long ago, he was having sex with me as an obligation, but that's where the stress came in, and it's the reason I settled on the best friend horseshit that didn't include sex. That's where we are starting or where I'm starting. Bruce thinks he's finished and I don't want to scare him by telling him we're going back to the boyfriend status. Not blatantly. I'll do it slowly and very friendly.  

Going back to having sex once a day is my long-range objective, but here's the catch... it needs to be Bruce who suggests it. That would be a very excellent development. Bruce developing some horniness would be a massive development in our relationship, but I still don't want to get all geared up about it only to have a big letdown later. I don't think that's going to happen.

I'm smiling again, remembering our ride home after Bruce took me to dinner. Took his best friend out to dinner, not his boyfriend. He doesn't have a boyfriend. I thought about that when he asked, "Why so quiet, Zach?" Looking over at him, I mumbled, "Um, I don't know, Bruce. I like listening to you talk, and I'm enjoying being out to dinner with you. It's very nice." 

Bruce can't help but be a tad bossy,  "Thanks, but keep your eyes on the road." Looking back at the road, I mutter, "Yeah, yeah, I know," and he goes, "So, you like hearing me talk, huh? What was I talking about before I asked why you've been so quiet?" 

Hmm, it was something about the dinner we had just finished. I shrug, "Cheese?" He goes, "Oh, you were half-listening. Yeah, those outrageously delicious cannoli. I never thought of cheese being sweet and never as a dessert."

Pulling into our apartment's parking lot, I've got tears. He was so excited tonight buying me that average eighty-dollar dinner that he thought was fancy.  He said, "It's genius making sweet cheese into a dessert, ya know?" It breaks my heart how he gets excited about things most guys in their early twenties take for granted, that's if they give it any thought at all.

I told him, "You're a lot of fun to be with, getting excited about cheese. Holy shit." He said, "I'm fun? You're the most fun person I've ever known."  

Jesus!
I'm as quiet in the bathroom as I can be, pissing, quickly showering, brushing my teeth, gargling, and putting on boxer shorts. Getting in bed with Bruce, I shed more tears for him. The poor guy has had a horrendous life until a few weeks ago, and he's so grateful to be here. I am not going to apply any pressure on him. I'll be satisfied in an unrequited love. I'll be in love with Bruce in secret.

Sounding as if he just woke up, which he did, Bruce asks, "Are you drunk, Zach? I hope you had fun?" I say, "I, um, met..." He cuts me off, "That's none of my business. I worry that you spend too much time worrying about me. You deserve to have fun, and especially with that... you know."

He meant sex. I murmur, "Thanks! Yeah, I had that fun and then felt bad about it. I need for my life to be less sexually oriented. I wish I could be more like you in that regard. I'd feel better about not depending on strangers to make me feel, um... I don't know what I'm talking about. Sorry, I woke you."

He puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him, murmuring, "I was asleep until a little while ago when I woke up and you weren't here, so I started to worry. You're a huge part of my world, my life, Zach. I'd be lost without you. Please know that I love you."

Choking up, I murmur, "I love you too, Bruce."

We say no more, and the next thing I remember is Bruce quietly saying, "Should I take the car, Zach?"  I shake my head, "No, I'm getting up. I want to drive you."

Getting out of bed, my head hurts in a minor hangover way but I don't mention that, I take a piss, quickly wash my face and hands, then brush my teeth and, without thinking about it, put on the pussy boy uniform, and go into the kitchen to take the coffee Bruce made for us and we're on our way downstairs to the car. Bruce says, "I checked Cowboy and Lee." He grins, "It's the first time I've ever peaked in their room. They sleep like we do."

Grinning at him, "They're smart because it's the best way to sleep." He asks, "Do you want me to drive?" Haha, I know that means he wants to drive because I look like I'm hungover and didn't have nearly enough sleep. I murmur, "Yes, Daddy, that's probably best."

Bruce murmurs, "Don't pout. You don't feel like driving, anyway. Do you?" "Grinning, "No, Daddy, I don't." He smiles, "Stop it," and takes the key fob. Goddamn, I love being with him, and I think he loves being with me. I mean, why would he lie about it?
 We get in the car, and Bruce expertly avoids running into anything when we get on the highway. He says, "I hate to admit this, but you guys look cool in the uniforms and those haircuts, although I'm never getting that haircut again."

I tell him, "Don't make too big a deal of this, but I've come to my senses, and I'm backing out of my foolish wish to see what it'd be like being a pussy boy." Bruce mutters, "I knew you would sooner or later. It turns out to be sooner."

Well, he didn't make too big of a deal out of it. I say, "Yeah, well, they're going to be pissed off at me again, but fuck 'em."

I can see Bruce grinning, but he doesn't say anything. I know he's happy every time I shit on the organization, which I've done repeatedly without malice aforethought, but I do it regularly, anyway. I'm either a docile, submissive dork or the proverbial bull in a China shop, often unintentionally. I'll try not to be too obnoxious bowing out ...AGAIN.

Bruce puts the car in neutral next to the boardwalk ramp we always stop at and says, "I Googled it and found out that bumping fists saying goodbye is for casual acquaintances, and we're, you and me, way more than acquaintances," and he leans over and kisses the side of my lips. I can't keep up with our goodbyes or hellos, but this works for me. Next time, I'll be ready for it.

I murmur, "I couldn't agree with you more, Bruce. Have a wonderful day, and I'll see you at the beach this afternoon."

"I'm looking forward to that, Zach. Good luck telling Eli to go fuck himself," and he gets out as I start to say, "I'm going to try being..." The door closes, and I finish with, "nice." 

Last night and this morning are great starting points for my three-point plan. The weaning from ridiculous sexual needs isn't going to be helped by me dumping the pussy boy idea. Jon lost Billy, and now me. I'd feel sorry for him, but he's never felt anything for me except making money off me as a pussy boy and now as a prostitute of the future. That dream of his is about to go bust, I'm afraid.

First, though, I've got three hours before I can quit the bogus retraining with Jon, and I only got five hours of sleep last night, and I need more than that to get rid of this hangover headache. I could drive twenty minutes back home and twenty minutes back here, losing forty minutes of sleep, or I can bust into the hotel room I paid for that Henry's in and get almost three hours of sleep, which is what I will do.

Parking the car in the regular parking lot. Paying and walking the short distance on the boardwalk, I go into last night's boardwalk hotel and hear the slot machines making their noises. Some ladies are working the slots early or late, whichever. At registration, I show my driver's license as ID, saying, "I lost the key card for the room I rented last night." 

The young man with a serious receding hairline is eager to help, although dubiously cautious. I tell him the room, and he maintains his phony smile as he checks his computer. Then he brightly says, "Of course, Mr. McMann," and produces another card key in a flash.

I use it to enter the room and see Henry and Antoine asleep in one of the beds, the other untouched. I can sleep there, but I have an idea. Yep! On the bureau is the card key for the room Henry and Antione paid for. I take it and let myself into that room, which still has a suitcase with their stuff on the unused bed. I transfer it to the bed Antoine was sleeping in with an upset stomach and get in the other bed without taking off my shorts or polo shirt.

I'm feeling rebellious this morning, which is a good way to feel, considering what I plan to do later today. Yesterday morning, I would have slept in the unused bed in the room I paid for or, better yet, get undressed and get in bed with Antoine and Henry, but this is one more new me. I was a new me after the paddling, and now I'm another new me thinking I was dead wrong about the paddling. It didn't do anything good for me as I've had a few recent violent thoughts and this morning's maneuver to get a few hours' sleep is an unnecessarily aggressive manner in which to do that.

I set my phone's alarm for eight-forty-five and the next thing I know; my alarm is going off. Did I dream? I don't know, but my headache is gone. Getting up, I take a piss in the bathroom and then wash my face and hands. I give a thought to using the toothbrush that I see in a case, but settle for gargling with Antoine's minty mouthwash. Looking at myself in the mirror over the sink, I still like the Navy Seal-like haircut, but to spite the pussy boys, I'll let my hair grow like Bruce is doing. We should probably leave Atlantic City as it's been toxic for Bruce and not that great for me, plus the boys are leaving for college in two weeks.

I was leaving the room and leaving a mystery for Antoine and Henry of who slept in the other deb to contemplate. My pussy boy uniform is very wrinkled. It looks like I slept in it. Driving to Jon's apartment, I decide again to try being nice about this. I don't hate anyone, not even Richard, and I am screwing them again, as Richard thought I would, so I have no reason to be nasty about this. I'm positive that this is the final interaction I'll ever have with the organization and maybe with the pussy boys themselves. To spite me and cut off their noses to spite themselves, they could band me from hiring pussy boys. 

I'll miss the boys, but we're leaving here as soon as Bruce finishes with Anne's Cafe in September, so no big loss if I can't hire a pussy boy. They aren't the only escort service, not by a long shot. My normal parking spot for Jon Scheyer's garden-style apartment. Garden style means each apartment has a front door off the street or sidewalk. No elevator and no second-floor apartments. It was a nice apartment complex seventy-five years ago but has hit hard times in recent years.

Smoking a cigarette and walking the block to Jon's apartment's front door, I'm not feeling much emotion. I guess I feel bad for Jon but not Eli or Richard. Benny opens the door when I knock. He looks surprised, saying, "What, did you sleep in those shorts?" I nod, "Hi, Benny. You're looking good, and, yeah, I did. I slept in my pussy boy uniform. Would you please tell Jon I'm out here?"

He squints his eyes, then asks, "How come you don't want to come in, Zippy?" Smiling, I say, "Forget that 'Zippy' horseshit, It's Zach. Ah, I'm not coming in because I don't want to break anything. I want to be nice." Benny mutters, "You're a nutty motherfucker, but okay, I'll tell him." 

Oh good. He didn't say scary motherfucker because I don't want to be scary. I was being nice. Jon comes out with a coffee mug, asking, "What did you say to Benny? He said you were a scary motherfucker, and you slept in your uniform, which I can see you did. Why'd you do that?"

I say, "I was nice to Benny, I just rejected the stupid Zippy name." Jon tries not to grin, saying, What the fuck? Anyway, I like you, Jon. Hell, you know I had a big crush on you which is most of the reason I agreed, um, I was actually anxious to do the pussy boy training with you."

Drinking from his coffee mug, Jon nods and asks, "So, what's the problem?" Shrugging, I mutter, "I don't have a crush on you anymore, so I'm not doing the pussy boy thing anymore. I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry if this screws you up."

He drinks coffee, then asks, "Can I bum a cigarette?" "Sure,' and I give him one and have another for myself, lighting Jon's first and then mine. I look expectantly at Jon for his reaction to my nice way of quitting his program. He takes a drag off his cigarette and says, "It figures. Richard wins the pool. His guess was less than two weeks. It's not fair because he initiated the mandatory paddling, which we all were shocked when you were fine with it. I knew you were infatuated with me, so my guess was two months. Not even close. Eli, well, all the mentors here in Atlantic City and some in New York threw in a hundred dollars and made their guess."

Nodding, I ask, "So, how much did Richard win?" Jon sits on the step, exhales smoke, and says, "Eleven hundred, but it's the bragging rights he covets. Like, Richard's always right about everything, and he adds his prognostication about this, too."

I say, "Prognostications? That's a big word for a high school dropout." Jon shrugs and I tell him a joke: "This guy has a bad day,. He loses his job, he gets robbed at a bar, feeling sorry for himself about getting fired, and he gets a flat tire driving home. When he gets there, his two-year-old girlfriend is moving out. He asks, "Why?" She says, "Because I found out you're a pedophile." He mutters, "Huh, that's a mighty big word for a twelve-year-old." 

Frowning, Jon mutters, "I don't get it." I say, "Forget about it. Gee, I'm proud of how mellow you are about me quitting. I'm unsurprised because I think you're a good guy and I wish you well." No hug, no fists bump, no nothing, I mutter, "Well, that's all I have to say." Jon doesn't even stand. He inhales of the cigarette, nods, and says, "You better not call Richard for a while. He forgets insults after a few weeks, but hire from another agency for a while."

I smile, but I'm disappointed I was so incidental to them. Man, I must be severely overestimating how people feel about me. They had a lottery about how long I'd stick to the second round of training. Balls! Then, as I get in my car, I laugh, "They're smarter than I gave them credit for."

A woman pushing a baby carriage says, "What? Sorry, I didn't hear all of that?"

I smile, "I was talking to myself. Have a nice day." See how nice I was to her. The old, even older me would have said something about nobody was talking to you, which is why you didn't hear the whole thing, bitch. No! I'd never say that. Driving away, I have this thought: Why am I supposed to do now? Cowboy and Lee are water skiing again today, and I won't impose on them. Bruce will be working until four or forty-four. This is a tiny bit of why I was intrigued by Jon's offer.

It's not as if I've never gotten up at five-thirty in the morning before. I did that many times in the Navy Seals, but I didn't like it then, and I don't like it any better now. Plus, doing that with a hangover this morning, no wonder I forgot to bring a bathing suit. 

Well, there isn't anything to do here without one, so I drive back to the apartment to get one. I don't need to be quiet about it because I see that the boys have left to water ski on the bay. I want to be mad that Bruce is working instead of playing with me, except I can't get mad about Bruce's job because it has been a vital part of his quick transformation from negative thinking to his current positive frame of mind. That makes getting up early each morning worth it. 

It was not until after our kiss goodbye this morning that I gave a thought about what I'd do after quitting the pussy boys. So, yeah, after getting my swimsuit, what am I going to do today? Every day for the last few weeks, I've been hiring pussy boys, Dickie being the best, but should I do that now that I can't call Richard? Hmm, Dickie never said anything about having sex this afternoon, anyway. 

No, I can't take a chance on changing my routine any more than I already have. Dickie has been satisfying my horniness, and I need to keep going with that to avoid being squirrely with horniness around Bruce, especially when he gets off work this afternoon. Of course, I'm fine now, but what about eight or nine hours from now? 

Someday, hopefully, I'll be having sex with Bruce again. That's for the future, though. Yeah, if possible, I better keep Dickie on the payroll. Yes, that's what I'll do, but I don't need to do it right now. I'll go back to the beach and read my Alexander The Great book. Then, jog and swim, getting some exercise. I haven't done nearly enough of that. 

Driving back to the city, I realize something. I've been talking about weaning myself from frequent sex, not realizing since Bruce stopped fucking me, I've gotten very horny, but it's been alleviated mainly by one sexual experience per day. Mostly with Dickie, but with other occasional sex partners, like Henry last night. He was good, but I'm mad at myself for acting so pathetic with him. Anyway, what I'm saying is, I've been having less sex for a week or so than I've had since Richard converted me to a submissive bottom. The three to four sex episodes per day are no more. It's more like one double fuck with some blowjob activity and getting sexily paddled. The pussy boys are wildly into paddling.

I'm thinking about Dickie's paddling and how it's become necessary for me to get that submissive thing working. Paddling didn't use to be necessary, though. A dominant top used to be able to bring on a deep submissive sense in me. Henry did it last night, so maybe I'm too familiar with pussy boys like Dickie. Lately, he's recognized that I wasn't experiencing the submissiveness during sex with him that he feels I'm paying for so he added the extra paddling. I was already getting paddled by Sandy each morning. 

I've got to admit that the extra humiliation had me experiencing the level of submissiveness I was previously sensing. Dickie's a professional and, as he always says, he wants to make sure I'm getting my money's worth. With hired pros like Dickie, I need to feel submissive during our sub/dom sex in order to get off, to climax with the sexual heat I'm looking for. 

Nothing of the sort was necessary when having sex with Bruce. He's dominant without making an issue of it, but we're presently not having sex, so that not relevant presently. That's obviously what I'd prefer a thousand percent over hiring pussy boys.

Back at the beach, to get my mind off everything, I'm on my way to have a late breakfast at the cafe where my favorite waiter works. Even though it's Sunday and the weekend crowds are still obviously here, it's past time for breakfast rush, and I get seated right away and watch Bruce carrying breakfast plates to a table. He sees me and gives me the kind of smile that seems to say... I'm glad to see you!

Um, yeah, that's the kind of smile he gave me. It was a much more special smile than the ones given to the customers at the table he's serving, although that was a pretty good smile too. I watch him get a pot of coffee, then come right over to me. With another smile, he says, "I'm glad you came in for breakfast this morning, Zach. You sure look rested." 

He pours coffee as I say, "Yeah, I went back to bed." I won't tell him which bed. I say, "Hey, I liked that smile you gave me when I walked in." He goes, "Uh-huh, I saved it for you. Whaddaya going to have for breakfast?" 

"Well, I'd like to have you for breakfast," and he goes, "That won't work as long as I have this job, but I won't have it forever, so maybe a miracle..."I order pancakes and bacon with scrambled eggs on the side, adding, "Ask the genius chef not to burn the scrambled eggs this time." He laughs, and off he goes. Huh, how the hell does he run around like that for eight 'effing hours every day?" 

When my breakfast is served, not being one to complain, I don't mention that there isn't real maple syrup on the pancakes, and the genius chef did overcook the scrambled eggs. I keep those thoughts to myself. Then, after eating, I leave my waiter a ridiculously large tip, and on my way out, I say, "Awesome breakfast, Bruce," and I get that smile again. That's well worth lying for.

Okay, well-rested with a full stomach, I'm ready to get my ashes hauled for today, although I still don't understand that idiom. It's not far to Dickie's apartment, so I walk there, and even though I'm still not especially horny after that time with Henry last night, I feel anticipation building because I like sub/dom sex, especially the way Dickie does it. It's great recreational sex whether I'm horny or not. And, yeah, I'm still dealing with this oversexed problem that was created, ironically, by Bruce during the three weeks he was training me to be a pussy boy. I think I've made progress on limiting my excessive horniness since Bruce and I became best friends instead of boyfriends, but I still need to stay on top of my horniness.

Sweating slightly, I walk into Dickie's apartment building without needing to be buzzed in because the front door's lock is broken. Dickie's apartment is on the left, the first floor. Feeling the back pocket of my bathing suit to be sure I have my wallet, although I knew I did, I knocked on the door, hoping Gorgon, the roommate, was out. Rubbing perspiration off my forehead, I knock again, and this time Dickie opens the door and goes, "Jesus Christ, you're like gum on my shoe! Are you stalking me?" 

"C'mon, Dickie, I'm your best client, don't break my balls." He nods his head for me to come inside, and when I do, he says, "I didn't want to talk business in the hall." 

"You were expecting me, weren't you? We've had a morning date for seven days in a row." He holds up a finger, like, 'Wait a second,' and goes to the kitchen table, picks up his cell phone, then goes, "There's no text from Richard, so no, I wasn't expecting you." 

I shrug, "Well, this morning, I thought we could bypass Richard for once... he won't find out." He goes, "Nope, I'm not cheating him out of his online fee. Call him and set it up!" 

Jeez, that got a submissive buzz running through me; he's good at this dominant stuff... consistently the hardass. I tell him about dropping out of pussy boy training and what Jon said about how I better not call Richard for a few weeks.

He has a blank expression as he asks, "What?" Shrugging, I mutter, "Yeah, but I didn't hear that from Richard. It's what Jon said after In quit." Dickie isn't physically abusive, but his demeanor is always hardass with me because he knows I'm what they call an 'S' type client, super submissive, so he stays in the dominant role from beginning to end, assuming it's what I'm paying for. 

Not now, though, Dickie shakes his head, "Oh, fuck, Zach. I can't go against Richard. He sets me up with really well-paying gigs. Easy money, um, like from you. Now I don't know..."
I go, "Please, Dickie. I don't wanna go through a lot of crap with Richard" A teapot begins whistling, and Dickie takes the pot off the stove and pours boiling water into a mug with a teabag, saying, "You'll do what you're told. Use my phone and call Richard." Sitting at the table, I pick up his phone, then try again, "Please, Dickie. I'll give you an extra-large tip." 

He sits across from me and begins spooning in sugar, one, two, three, four teaspoons of sugar, then he looks up and says, "I've got a guy coming here, a client that Richard set me up with. He's due in fifteen minutes. This guy is in Atlantic City for the weekend, so he'll be leaving for Delaware, probably later today. Here's what I'll do for you as a favor, and you better give me a huge tip for making this exception for you. If, and it's a big if, but if it's okay with this guy, I'll do you both simultaneously."

Oh, balls to that! I make a face, and he says, "It's either that or call Richard and set up a date for later this afternoon." Dickie has already created a submissive twitching in my balls. He's such a dominant prick. Yeah, the type I love to party with. Okay, what to do? 

"Can I smoke in here, Dickie?" He mutters, No," and I go, "Um, what's this other guy look like?" He sips some tea, then says, "I don't know. He's an 'S' type, though, like you, so it'll be easy for me to handle you both simultaneously. Hey, I don't need this shit, but I thought it might be fun for both of you submissive twats." 

"I don't know, Dickie. Do you think I should?" He says, "Yes, and I know you're going to, but until my client gets here, go over and stand in that corner." He points at the corner, "Do it now!" 

My dick moves in my swimsuit. Holy shit. Well, what the fuck? He's right; this could be fun... it's new. Hesitating, I squint at him, and he says, "Or don't stand in the corner, but then you'll need to call Richard and set up a date with me later. Either way, I don't really care."

He has that certain prick-quality about him that all the excellent dominant types possess. Slowly, I get up... fuck it; I go over and stand in the corner, feeling a shiver of submissiveness, and that makes me grin because this has the potential of being extra hot. I'm leaning against the wall, not actually standing in the corner per se. I glance over at the back of five-foot-eight, skinny Dickie, watching him typing on his phone and not paying any attention to me. Damn, I admire him. He's another one who's only nineteen, so how can he be so confident? I'd like to know his backstory. Then I think about him fucking me in that van in New York outside the pussy boy club weeks ago... it makes me grope my junk. He was so sexy!

I know Dickie's confidence is partially an act. Hell, I saw him the other day be obsequious to a client who insisted that he, the client, be the dominant one. It's crazy that I'm still into this sub/don shit with a hired pussy boy. It's been a couple of months now that my sub/dom fetish got reactivated by Richard. Then, as I alluded to earlier, it was perfected and firmly established in my head by Bruce! And now Bruce and I aren't having sex at all. 

Dickie's roommate, Gordon, who I sucked off yesterday, comes into the kitchen, mumbling, "You're such a fag, Dickie... drinking tea." I faced the corner when he came in and he asked, "Who's that you've put in the corner?" Dickie says, "A client, obviously, which is what you need more of." 

I hear Frosted Flakes going into a bowl as Gordon mutters, "Fuck, you've got clients following you around. How does that happen, dude? My shift starts at six tonight, and I've got to find clients like yours." Dickie mutters, "If you can."

I'm looking at the bad paint job in the corner as I hear the refrigerator open and then milk being poured on Gordon's Frosted Flakes as he's asking, "Didn't you tell me Richard set you up with an eleven o'clock client this morning? That's not him, is it?" 

Dickie says, "No, he came unexpectantly, but I'm doing a double this morning, killing two twats with one dick." Gordon sounds serious when he says, "You're amazing! Ya know, you could be one of the main pussy boy men any time you wanted. Recruiting your crew." 

Dickie says, "No shit. I don't want to do the recruiting bullshit, though. And, anyway, I like street whoring." Gordon begins eating the cereal, making many disgusting wet mouth sounds. I'm assuming he's eating Frosted Flakes because that's what he ate yesterday morning. I better keep facing the corner because Gordon can see me, and he'll squeal to Dickie if I'm just leaning on the wall. This shit is getting me hot, so I press my nose into the corner.

In less than fifteen minutes, I hear a knock on the door. Dickie slurps some tea, turns in his chair, and says to me, "Um, your name is Zach, right?" What? Did he forget my name? 

My voice sounds funny to me, like I'm timid, when I say, "Yes, Dickie," and he goes, "Answer the door, Zach, and bring the guy inside." Walking past the table, big-headed Gordon, with a mouthful of milk and Frosted Flakes, goes, "Hey, you're the guy. You didn't give me a tip yesterday after blowing me." I say, "It was too fast," and he nods, "Oh, yeah, I forgot." 

Moron!

My submissiveness floats away as I open the door and see a freckled-faced redhead about Dickie's size, who, without making eye contact, timidly mumbles, "Ah, um, I'm Clark Baker, um, is it okay that I'm five minutes early?" 

His pale red hair is pulled back into a longish ponytail that he nervously flicks up with his freckled right hand, blushing brightly. He has a goofy expression on his face, with his mouth tightly closed and his eyes squinting so only slits of green are visible. I ask, "How old are you, Clark?" He goes into the back pocket of his jeans and fumbles out a wallet, saying, "I'll be twenty in October," as he holds out his driver's license.

Dickie pushes me out of the way, saying to Clark, "Get the fuck in here." Then to me, "I told you to let him in, not interrogate him." 

He grips the back of Clark's neck hard enough that Clark hunches his shoulders as Dickie guides him to the bedroom, telling me, "C'mon, follow me." Clark can't move his head because of Dickie's hold on his neck, but Clark's eyes go from me to Dickie and back to me. He looks confused and jittery, and who can blame him?

Inside Dickie's bedroom, he says to me, "Close the door," and then, "You two sit on the edge of the bed." Clark and I do that, Clark right beside me, almost leaning on me. Dickie puts a hand on either side of Clark's skinny shoulders, "I'm your dom for this date, Clark." Nodding his head at me, he adds, "He's another client of mine. What happened is my schedule got screwed up this morning, which is why you're both here at the same time. As a favor to both of you, I'll service you and him at a reduced fee, but only if you agree." Nodding at me again, he adds, "This submissive client has agreed to that... do you?"

Clark mumbles, "I'll do whatever you say I should." Dickie mutters, "Of course, you will." He straightens up and says, "As I said, I'm reducing my normal fees, fees you'll both pay. The paddling before and after is a one-time charge of forty dollars; sucking my cock is another forty dollars, and I'll fuck both of you for seventy-five dollars each. That amounts to one-fifty from both of you," and he holds out his hand. 

Clark gets his wallet out again, counts out seven twenties and a ten, then hands the bills to Dickie. I give Dickie three fifties, and he drops all the bills on the bureau, saying, "Both of you get undressed... quickly!"

We were still sitting on the edge of the bed as Clark quickly untied his sneakers and took them off, timidly asking, "Can I stand?" Dickie rolls his eyes, jerking his hand up, and Clark stands right up and begins working at getting his belt buckle unhooked, then drops the jeans he's wearing and starts unbuttoning his short-sleeve shirt. I was naked before Clark got his sneakers off. Meanwhile, Dickie's getting the paddle from the bureau's bottom drawer.

I'm watching Clark, waiting for him to drop his underpants to see what he's got down there. Off come his underpants, white old-fashioned jockey underpants, and what he's got down there is a boring four-inch skinny dick, maybe a tiny bit shorter than Dickie's, but Clark's penis has a pointy head. The big bulbous head of Dickie's pecker is what creates all the hot sensations when he's thrusting it in my ass. Clark has a normal pubic patch of crinkly red hair, and his skinny body is a creamy pale color, devoid of hair except down there. He doesn't appear to have a muscle in his body, although, of course, he must have some. I don't see any, though. And, oh yeah, his pecker is already stiff. 

Dickie's bossy dominant behavior has aroused and turned-on 'S' type Clark already. I'm used to Dickie, so I need the paddling to really get into a submissive frame of mind, although I did get a submissive twinge in the kitchen when Dickie put me in the corner. It felt good so I'm looking forward to the paddling that will set me up submissive-wise quite nicely. That's all good, but I'm worried Clark will detract from my normal submissive high. It's not his fault, but he'll probably be a deterrent for me experiencing the full submissive vibe that Dickie typically gets me to experience.

We're both naked as Dickie takes a few practice swings with the paddle, "Swoosh, swoosh," sound as it goes through the air. "You two bend over and hold onto the bed's bottom board." As we do that, Clark makes a gasping sound, his side rubbing against my leg and side. Dickie says, "Both you cunts need to push your asses out." Clark grunts as he exaggeratingly pushes his ass out and up. I do it without the grunt, my ass a foot higher than Clark's.

"Swoosh," "Whack!" Clark screamed, "OW! OH, OW!" Dickie says, sounding bored, "If you scream that loudly again, I'll put a ball gag in your mouth and add one more whack for each scream." 

I happen to know Dickie's not bored because he gets off on a little sadistic paddling. "Swoosh," "Whack," and my buttocks quiver and sting like fire, but I expected that, so I don't say anything. "Swoosh," "Whack!" and Clark whimpers and shakes, leaning against me. His face bright red, he looks over at me, making eye contact. I smile at him, mouthing, 'Only two more.' He leans against me harder as we get, not two more, but three more whacks. The extra one for, um, whatever reason. My buttocks are molten hot! Even I need to shake a little, then shudder in a submissive fog as Dickie says, "Both of you on your knees."

Clark and I, our hands rubbing our butt cheeks, stand and then bump into each other, hurrying to turn around and get on our knees while Dickie is casually getting undressed, saying, "I'm doing you both a big favor here, but I might need to get both of you involved helping out. Just do what you're told, and I won't need to do extra paddling." 

Clark's face is still scrunched up, dealing with the first paddling pain. My butt cheeks are still hot and stinging too, but I feel awesomely submissive, mumbling, "Yes, Dickie." Clark takes a deep inhale, then, anxious to suck Dickie's cock, he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and I mean he sticks it out! What a tongue on this guy. It's long and wide, a healthy-looking rosy red color. Dickie's eyes open wide as he mutters, "That's a world-class tongue, um, what'd you say your name was?" 
The tongue goes back in his mouth as Clark says, "I'm Clark Baker," and Dickie goes, "We don't use last names, Clark." Clark hunches his shoulders, murmuring, "I'm sorry." Dickie lightly smacks the top of my head, asking me, "I'll bet you'd love to have that tongue of Clark's on your dick." 

I nod my head too fast, and he chuckles, then grabs Clark's ponytail pulling his face against Dickie's crotch. Clark's tongue comes out, and wet-sounding licking commences. I'm staring, hardly believing what I'm seeing. In my submissiveness, I sprung a semi-hard boner during my paddling, and now, watching Clark licking Dickie's privates, my dick gets harder. And so does Dickie's dick, and so does Clark's dick. 

Dickie's hard dick goes in Clark's mouth now as slurping and sucking sounds replace the wet licking ones. The sounds are similar to Gordon eating his bowl of cereal but infinitely sexier. Dickie grunts and moves his feet, then moans, and after maybe three minutes, he uses Clark's ponytail to pull his head back. When his cock is out of Clark's mouth, it sticks straight out. Yep, four inches of hard cock with its swollen head dripping precum. Dickie shakes his head, yanks on Clark's ponytail, then points at me, mutters to Clark, "Suck his cock for a minute. Let me get it together. Jesus, what a tongue!"

Clark doesn't hesitate; he leans over and does a long lick across my belly and then holds my stiff cock in two fingers at the base and licks up and down the shaft as I grunt, "Ahh, umm..." He puts my cock in his mouth, and it's like two tongues sucking and licking my boner. Now it's me scrunching up my face, my hands going to Clark's head. "Ahh, ahh, umm... fuck, umm..." Dickie grabs Clark's ponytail again and pulls his head back. My cock comes out as hard as wood, and Dickie says to me, "Your turn. Suck his cock first, then you can have a turn sucking mine."

I'm grabbing my balls, my cock throbbing as I nod my head. Of course, Clark's penis is a wooden stub now, too, as he likes sucking cock as much as I do. Clark's taking deep breaths, sitting back on his ankles, not saying anything. Leaning over, I lick the pointy head, then take his hard penis in my mouth, swirl my tongue around it, and then bob up and down the short shaft. After the fifth bob, my tongue gets coated with his precum, a lot of it, and some leaks out the side of my lips. Dickie immediately pulls my head away and moves it to his cock, which I suck into my mouth.

His cock is sloppy with Clark's saliva, but only for ten seconds. Dickie only lets me suck it for a minute, "That's enough for now," as he's pushing my head away. When I sit back, my cock is sticking straight out; all three of our cocks are sticking straight out. Clark leans over again and sucks on the head of my boner. Dickie's like, "Goddammit, I didn't say to do that," and yanks on Clark's ponytail. This is goofy, disjointed, and whacky, but it's got me crazily aroused.

Dickie lectures Clark and me as we're sitting back on our ankles. "You two are overdoing it, and that's pissing me off. You both like sucking cock too much. Anymore overdoing it, and you'll both be paddled." Clark and I look at each other, then back at Dickie, who goes, "Alright, whatever! Um, just try to be, ah, more normal, and I'll let you both suck my dick more. I always make sure you submissives get your money's worth." 

All this lecturing and chaos have our dicks losing their rock-hard condition, and I'm losing my submissive sense. Screwing up things further, Gordon sticks his head in the doorway, asking, "Can I borrow twenty bucks, Dickie?" Dickie takes a twenty off the bureau and hands it to Gordon, who mutters, "Thanks," and leaves. Clark raises his hand, and Dickie goes, "What?" Clark asks, "Can I use the bathroom?" 

Oh boy, this isn't working, and the discount from Dickie's regular fees wasn't much to start with. He mutters, "The bathroom is at the end of the hall." Clark hops up, mumbling, "Thank you, Dickie," and leaves.

Dickie sees by my expression I'm not happy, so he goes, "Okay, what the fuck... you can finish your turn sucking my cock." That's a little more like it. He's leaning against the bureau; his penis is almost flaccid by now. Since he's not coming to me, I walk on my hands and knees the four steps to him and pick his dick up in my fingers, then do long licks under his balls and on the inside of his thighs. He smells like a guy who needs a shower, but not in a totally offensive way. 

Stroking his short penis, I continue licking all around his groin area and finally feel submissiveness developing again. Mmmm, my nose pressed against the skin where his leg connects to his torso; I lap under his balls near his asshole, feeling myself sinking into a decent trance, Dickie's absently rubbing my head, probably bored. My cock sucking can't match Clark's. I'm feeling good, though. I move his cock to my lips, lick the big head and then take the whole thing in my mouth and bob up and down on it. The third bob I do extra hard, and part of the head goes in my throat. The next bob, the whole head goes in, goes in very, very tightly, making me gag, so I stop doing that. 

Dickie pushes my head away when Clark comes back and timidly asks, "Can I do that too?" Dickie mutters, "No, suck his cock. Mine's getting tender." 

Chark gently pushes on my shoulder, so I sit back on my heels. He gets on his knees, bends over, and takes my fairly hard cock in his mouth again. Bruce leaves the room, mumbling, "Be right back," and, with my cock's head in Clark's mouth, his tongue goes to town. Jesus, I hold onto his ponytail and try not to gasp, but I gasp anyway. "Ahh, ooh, umm... Clark, ah..." It's only twenty seconds, but he's created like a suction thing going on, and I need to really yank to get him to let go of my cock's head, or I'm gonna blow my load prematurely. 

I'm like, "Jesus, Clark... Gawd!" He looks down, murmuring, "Sorry," so I go, "Oh, that's okay," and rub his shoulder. Dickie's back, drinking from a bottle of water, then says, "Did you get your money's worth so far?" Clark nods vigorously, "Oh, yes, definitely, Dickie." I go, "Yeah, I guess so. It's been, um, different, but..."

He chugs more water, puts the bottle on the bureau, and says, "Clark, suck my dick for five seconds to get it hard, then stop! After that, I'll fuck both you submissive cunts until you both climax." Clark goes at it, and, hmm, Dickie lets Clark suck his cock for longer than five seconds. It's obvious Dickie is loving it. He finally pushes Clark away and says, "Good, that's good. Now both of you grab the bed's bottom board and stick your asses out. I'll get a condom," and he goes in the top bureau drawer to do that.

Clark's right arm and my left one are touching as he looks at me, making only  fleeting eye contact; he murmurs, "This is the best sex I've ever had." 

That is so 'effing sad! I lie, "Yeah, me too." Clark is growing on me, ya know? He's a nice, humble kid, and, yeah, he's kind of cute too... in a weird way. I ask, "What are you doing later?" He blushes, "Um, I could meet up with you if you want." Dickie goes, "Stop talking, you two!" Clark mumbles, "Sorry," then, "Ahhh!" as Dickie shoves his cock inside Clark's ass."

Making a gurgling noise, obviously in pain, Clark mutters, "Feels good," but he was straining to say that, so I know he still hurts from the abrupt entrance. Immediately, I hear the "Slap, slap, slap" sound of Dickie's crotch slapping again Clark's buttocks. When you have a short cock, with every thrust, you smack your bottom's ass. Fast slapping sounds with Clark moaning, "Ah, ah, ah," just as fast. It's getting me hot and bothered waiting for my turn. Then it occurs to me that when it's my turn, Dickie's condom will be covered in Clark's ass juices and maybe remnants of his feces as well. Holy shit, that's gross... but rather sexy too.

Looking back, I see Dickie with his hands on Clark's shoulders, pulling Clark back into the fast hard thrusts, Dickie's grunting with every thrust and Clark still going, "Ah, ah, ah," and it goes on for four or five minutes with me getting seriously aroused. I'm itching for my turn as Dickie stops thrusting and tells Clark, "Let go of the bedboard, and we'll both take three steps back." Then to me, "Get over where he was and we'll do a train. I'll kill two birds with one dick." I scramble over as Dickie tells Clark, "Fuck him while I'm fucking you."

He doesn't need to tell Clark twice as, "Ahh!" Clark plugs his cock in my ass. Oops, no condom. Clark starts fucking me rapidly like a dog in heat fucks a bitch in heat. Dickie snickers as Clark's rapid thrusting to and fro fucking me is also fucking himself, going back and forth on Dickie's boner. It only lasts for about twenty seconds before Clark lets out a yell, "Eeee, Aaah!" and shoots a nice creamy stream of cum that splatter against the walls of my bowels. It all happened so fast I hardly realized what was going on! I never got near climaxing!

Clark is gasping as I look back at Dickie again. He's still humping his cock in Clark's ass with his eyes closed. His groans I recognize as the sound of desperation that happens just prior to climaxing. Then, as I expected, he stops and presses hard against Clark's buttocks, "Ooh, oooh, ahhh," as he's filling up the condom with spunk. I've squirmed to the side, Clark's cock coming out of my ass as another long gasping exhales comes from Dickie. "Ahhhh, Ummm." He pulls his cock out, muttering, "Great asshole, Carl! That felt fabulous!" 

Clark shakes as he mutters, "I'm Clark, not Carl." 

Swell, but what about me? Standing, I feel Clark's cum running down the back of my legs as I go, "Hey! What the fuck is up with that, Dickie?" He holds his hands out, "I couldn't stop, so sue me. I'll give you your seventy-five bucks back. Something like this happens to me once or twice a year..." 

"Fuck, I'm all horned up here." He looks at Clark, "Um, no, he won't be any more help. Hey, I'll get Gordon to do you. Be flexible, and don't forget; I'm doing you a favor." 

I say, "Fuck, Gordon!" Then I remember he has a cock very much like Bruce's. No, I don't want a cock very much like Bruce's; it might detract from how special it is with Bruce and ruin my fantasy. Hmm, I also don't want to burn any bridges here with Dickie, so I calm down and say, "Um, no, but thanks for offering Gordon, that's okay. Um, and you can keep the seventy-five bucks." 

He says, "Thanks, I'll make it up to you, Zeek." Clark mutters, "He's Zach."

Dickie ignores that and hands me some tissues that I use to hold at my asshole. Then Dickie holds out the condom to Clark, mumbling, "Flush this." Holding the condom with two fingers, out away from him, Clark carries the gooey condom to the bathroom with me following him. He flushes it, and we wash it up as best we can. I do one final wipe on my ass, and Clark goes, "I don't see any more cum coming out."

Back in the bedroom, Dickie says, "Both of you grab the end board there at the foot of the bed, and I'll finish up by doing the second part of your paddling." Clark goes, "That's okay. You don't need to, does he, Zach?" I mumble, "I didn't even get off, so forget about that, Dickie." 

He picks up the paddle, saying sternly, "No, I'm not forgetting about it. It's part of the deal with you two 'S' type clients. If you hire me, paddling before and after is mandatory whether you reject getting fucked or not."

Shit, today was a complete disaster, but it'll just be Dickie and me tomorrow, so I don't want to screw that up. I say, "He's right, Clark. Remember, you just got a damn good double-fucking." He nods, "Okay," and we do what our dom tells us and grab the bed's bottom board, or whatever it's called, then push our asses out. As I said, Dickie has a spanking fetish and usually springs a boner from paddling his submissive clients.

There's the swooshing sound as Dickie practices swinging the paddle and then the "Whack" sound as it connects with Clark's buttocks... "WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!" as Clarks cries out, Ahh!" after each one, leaning hard against my side. Then my three "WHACKS," which feel good because I've learned to embrace the pain, plus paddling, gets me sinking into a docile and submissive frame of mind which feels good too, so when Dickie asks, "Do you feel you deserve another?" I go, "Yes, Dickie," and he gives us each another whack.

Putting the paddle in the bureau drawer, he says, "You can get up now. You're both done." Clark and I stand, rubbing our buttocks with both hands, as Dickie says, "How about a tip, Clark?" Feeling submissive to Dickie now, I'm sort of on his side, saying, "Yeah, where's his tip, Clark?" 

But then, I look at Clark and see the tears from the paddling and go, "Ah, c'mon, Dickie. Um, sorry, but can't my seventy-five dollars be Clark's tip?" Chark sniffles and says, "I only have twenty dollars left." 

Dickie's shaking his head, so I pick up my bathing suit and take a fifty out, mumbling to Clark, "I'll lend you fifty," then hand it to Dickie, asking, "Is this enough?" He takes it and says, "Yeah, it's good, but you'll need to arrange a date with me through Richard from now on. I don't want this kind of fiasco to happen again." 

"Yes, Dickie," and he mumbles, "Both of you get dressed and get outta here. I've got things to do."

What a prick! Yeah, but, as I said, Clark and I are 'S' type clients, so Dickie feels he's just doing his job. It's working too as both Clark and I hurry to get dressed, acting humble, docile, and submissive. Dickie shakes his head as if we disgust him, and then he walks into the kitchen. He's talking to Gordon and doesn't even say goodbye as we leave.

Outside, horny as a warthog now, my paddling submissive sense evaporates, unfulfilled. Taking a deep breath of humid hot air, I pat Clark's back, saying, "It's been nice meeting you, Clark." 

He looks past my shoulder, saying, "You too, but, um, don't you want to meet me later?" 

This morning has been so fucked up, and Clark's little pointy-headed dick didn't do much for me. I go, "Um, ah..." and he says, "Oh, no, that's okay if you don't want to..." Oh fuck, the poor guy. I go, "Yeah, no, I mean, yes, I want to. Um, do you have a car? I left mine in the parking lot on the twentieth street lot." 

He points at a late model Volvo, saying, "I've got Dad's car. He and mom are on the beach." I'm like, "Oh, you came to Atlantic City with your parents, huh?" Nodding, he goes, "Yeah, for the weekend. Can I give you a ride to your car?" Shrugging, I mumble, "Yeah, sure, although it's not that far."

We get in his Dad's car, and he starts the engine as I ask, "How do you know about the pussy boys?" Driving away, he says, "I've used them in Delaware, where I live... Dover, Delaware. They're less expensive there." 

"You should see the prices they charge in New York City." He drives carefully, too carefully as he's saying, "Boy, Dickie gave me my money's worth today, but I'm sorry you didn't get your money's worth. I want to thank you for letting me fuck you and for taking care of my tip 'cause Dickie sure deserved a tip." 

Oh, brother! I mutter, "It was nothing, um, your welcome, and you fucked me good, Clark." He says, "Thanks, I wish I could have done it better but I was sort of in a coma and didn't even know what I was doing. Um, if you'll give me your address, I'll mail you the fifty dollars as soon as I get paid next Friday." 

Shaking my head, I mutter, "Nah, that's okay. Forget it." He goes, "No, I want..." and I emphatically say, "Forget it! Okay?" Then, realizing I'm taking my exasperation about this morning out on Clark, talking quieter, I add, "It's my treat, Clark. I enjoyed meeting you, and, um,  everything...." He thanks me profusely as I nod, "Uh-huh, you're welcome..."

I tell him where to drive, and at the parking lot, he says, "The least I can do is let you suck my dick and then I'll try to get you off with an imitation of the fuck Dickie gave me. It'll be my treat, Zach." 

I do a fake cough covering my mouth to hide my grin and laugh. "Um, Omigod, thanks, Clark." He says, "I need to connect with my folks first, but I can meet you back here in two hours, say at two o'clock." Huh, it could help a little I suppose, so why not? 

"Thanks, Clark. I'll be on the beach directly down from that rental booth," as I point to it. He holds out his hand, so I shake it and mumble, "See you then." Clark says, "I'll do my best, although I'm not an experienced top." Swell. That's a shocker...

Getting out of the car, I'm like, "I'm sure you'll do great. I'm, ah, looking forward to it, Clark. See you at two o'clock." For the first time, he grins, which surprisingly eliminates anything I felt was cute about his face. The grin makes him look like a total toad. Gee, that's the opposite of Bruce. When he grins, and the same for Markie, that's when they look oddly cute. It's rare, but I've seen it before. The smile or grin turns an otherwise good-looking or cute face into a goofy one.

I wave as Clark pulls away, then get the towel I brought with me from my car and head for Markie's booth, feeling out of sorts after today's weird time with Dickie and Clark. And, other than superheroes, you don't meet many guys named  'Clark', do you?

At the rental booth, I find Markie reading another paperback book, so I tap on the counter. He looks up, and I go, "What are you reading, Markie?" He holds up the front cover, and I see "Alexander The Great And His Times" by Agnes Savill. I make a face, "You're into history, are you?" He puts the book down, gets up, and asks, "Where's your smile?" 

Forcing a smile because that's my book. I left it in my chair. I mutter, "I didn't have the greatest morning ever. How about you?" He goes, "I'm sick of this job. Whaddaya want, the same?" I nod and mutter, "Yeah, a chair and umbrella, but after this job, you'll be back in school." 

He sets out a beach chair, takes the ten spot I put on the counter, puts it in the register, then hoists an umbrella on his shoulder and says, "I like school." We walk to my spot on the beach, and then after Markie sets the umbrella firmly in the sand, I mutter, "Thanks," and hold out another ten-dollar bill, and he rolls his eyes, saying, "You don't need to do that. You've tipped me more than everybody else combined, um, just about." 

I mutter, "Yeah, well, buy yourself another paperback book." He does his grin, and puts the bill in his pocket, and says politely, "Thank you." Ha, see, that's a cute grin!

Naturally, I forgot sunscreen, so I sat under the umbrella, wishing I'd thought to buy another paperback book. Five minutes later, I'm joined by Cowboy and Lee, but not Henry and Antoine—thank God! They said they were leaving this morning, and I guess they have. Lee, as always, hugs me, and Cowboy kisses me, asking, "What's happening, Zach?" I asked, "How was the water skiing?" 

They set up their chairs as Lee's saying, "We didn't go. We had to get something fixed on my motorbike, and then mom texted me to come home, so we went to my house, and I had to fill out another form for college. I already did it once, but they claim otherwise. No big deal." 

"So, Cowboy, will you join Lee at his university?" He goes, "Nah, I've decided that would be too much trouble. We'll make frequent road trips, and then, during college breaks, we'll meet here with you and Bruce."

Oh shit, I was thinking of leaving Atlantic City. Not too subtle pressure there for Bruce and me to stay in the apartment. What the hell... if we need to relocate, I'll keep paying rent on the apartment for the boys to use. I go, "Um, where are the other two? Henry and Antoine." 

Lee shrugs, "They left, I guess." Cowboy mumbles, "Yeah, we didn't see them again after last night. Henry was getting obnoxious, so Carson and I are glad they left."

Even though I'm still horny, the oral sex we did took the edge off my horniness, and the boys and I talked about crazy silly stuff, laughing, and then go in for a swim. Later, Cowboy buys us pizza and sodas for lunch. At ten of two, I tell the guys I'm going for a walk and then reluctantly head up to the parking lot to intercept Clark. 

Shit, I only get halfway to the rental booth when I see Clark on his way down the beach... it's a good thing I left when I did. He doesn't see me, so I yell, "Yo, Clark!" He turns in my direction and does that goofy-looking smile, saying, "Oh, hi! Thank you for meeting me. I guess I'm anxious, huh? It's only ten of two, and I was already walking down to find you." 

Putting my arm across his shoulders, I say, "I'm early for our date too." He does his insane-looking smile again, so I'm going to try not to say anything that he might grin or smile at. Surprisingly, when I put my arm across his shoulders, buddy-buddy-like, he puts his arm around the back of my waist, like we're boyfriends. Fortunately, when walking by the rental booth, Markie reads his/my book and doesn't see us, or he'd ask me about it.

Well, it'd be awkward taking my arm away now, so I'm stuck walking like this to Clark's car. Oh, hell, it's not so bad. Haha, he's my type, right? He's youngish and cute when he doesn't smile; plus, he's slim and short. So, pretty good except for his ponytail, but that's nitpicking. He timidly says, "If you think it's alright, we can go to my motel. Mom and Dad will be on the beach till five o'clock at least."

I squeeze his shoulders, and he squeezes my waist, quietly adding, "This is awesome of you, Zach. I was really nervous about doing this, but you're awfully nice." I again mimic Cowboy's lack of modesty and go, "Everybody tells me that, Clark, but, um, you have your own room at the motel, right?" 

"No, I'm in with mom and dad." Oh, fuck... the poor kid! 

I say, "Are you positive your folks won't leave the beach early?" He shrugs, "They didn't yesterday, and we're not leaving for home until early tomorrow morning, so they probably won't." 

They probably won't, huh? That's not nearly good enough. I go, "You know what? I'll get us our own room. That'll be better." He looks up at me, "Really? For me, you'd rent a room?" I'm like, "Of course, you're worth a room rental, right?"

He frowns at that, mumbling, "I don't think, um, I hope you're expectations aren't, um..." He clears his throat, adding, "I'll try my best, but I mean, well, I've never had the opportunity to, um, be with anyone nearly as, ah, ya know, good-looking and sexy as you." 

I pretend I'm shocked, "Seriously?" Looking up at me, but his eyes are looking over my shoulder, he goes, "Yeah, I'm serious!" 

We're at his car now, so I take my arm off his shoulders and say, "Well, I think you're special. You're a cute guy, and I like slim guys like you." It's his turn to be surprised, and he puts much more emphasis on it when he asks, "Really? You mean me?" I go, "Yes, of course, I mean you." His arm is still around me as we stand here, and, yeah, it's awkward!

Shaking his head, he takes a key fob from his pocket and pushes a button that unlocks the car. After a second of him still standing here, I ask, "Should we get in the car?" He finally takes his skinny arm away and mutters, "Oh, yeah, but it's gonna be hot in there." 

We get in Clark's parents' Volvo, and Clark starts the engine, cranks up the air conditioning, and then asks, "Where do I go?" I directed him to the short distance to the same cheap hotel I always use. During the drive, for something to say, I ask, "So, how early are you and your folks leaving tomorrow morning?" 

He says, "Five o'clock at the latest. My dad and I need to be at work by eight o'clock." I'm like, "Where do you work?" He says, "Amazon. Dad got me a summer job there, but I spent most of what I earned this summer on pussy boys. That was incredibly irresponsible because what I earned was supposed to go to my spending money and books when I returned to college, but I couldn't help myself."

When we get out of the car, he puts his arm around the back of my waist again, so what the fuck can I do? I put my arm across his shoulders, and we go inside the hotel like that with me rolling my eyes, not that Clark can see me do it. Inside, I ask, "Don't you have a boyfriend or sex buddy?" He shakes his head vigorously, saying, "Nope, I'm so far in the closet no one can see me in there. No one knows I'm gay except pussy boys and, um, now you."

In the lobby, I'm like, "Would you mind waiting here for me, Clark?" He doesn't mind, and then, at the counter, the clerk recognizes me and is very friendly. Using my AMEX card, I rent a room for one night, figuring Dickie and I can use it tomorrow morning. Yeah, I've already committed myself to do what I'm told, so I'm going to do as Dickie said and arrange a date with him through Richard if Richard will allow it, and I think he might. He cares about money and he expected me to drop out of the training program, so...

I've got the key card, so I wave at Clark, pointing at the bank of elevators. We meet there, and he says, "This is so cool, Zach, renting a room. Are you rich or something?" I mutter, "Sort of," and he puts his arm around my waist again, so, jeezus, my arm goes across his slim shoulders..."

We wait for the elevator like boyfriends, then get off the fifth floor and walk down the hall with our arms around each other. It's okay, though; nobody sees us. Haha, as I said before, Clark grows on you. I hug his shoulders, and, dammit, he looks up at me with that grotesque grin of his but without making eye contact, which helps. But, Jesus, hasn't anyone ever mentioned to him his grin is, um, not good? 

At the door, he asks, "Um, Zach, shouldn't I lead the way, or, um? I should probably have the key card, too, don't you think? You need me to be the dominant top, like Dickie" He couldn't dominate a kitten! I go, "You're right, Clark," and give him the card key. He opens the door, mumbling, "I'm not going to be good at this; I just know it..." 

I mumble, "No, you were good earlier, and I'm feeling submissive already." He looks up, giving me a cute freckled face look that he probably feels is a confidant look. It's not; he looks frightened, but at least he didn't grin or smile.

I nod for him to go inside, then follow him into the room. It's a familiar generic hotel room, exactly like the last one I had here. The price is right, so I'm not complaining. Clark looks around and says, "Wow, nice room! Oh man, this is swanky!" 

Glancing at him, I started to chuckle but saw he was serious, so I faked a cough. He says, "You should see our motel room." 

No, I shouldn't, but him saying that... I don't know; I hug his skinny shoulders again because he's so pathetically innocent or incredibly naive... or something. It's snobbish of me to think that way, maybe, but I feel sad for him, okay?

He taps his foot, then puts his arm around the back of my waist again and hugs me, saying, "Should we get undressed now?" 

He changed his clothes from this morning. Instead of jeans, he's wearing a pair of nondescript shorts that appear too small even for him and a plain white Tee, usually worn under another shirt. I say, "Good idea," and he takes his arm from around my waist, then pulls his T-shirt off, mumbling, "Oh, damn! Excuse my language, but I just remembered I don't have a condom. I would buy some before meeting you at the beach, but..." 

"Damn, I forgot to bring one too." 

Tapping his foot again, he looks at the floor and asks, "Do you think it'll be alright doing it without a condom again?" Stepping out of my swimsuit, I'm like, "Yep, um, you already did it once without a condom, so, um, unless you know something I don't. Ah, you're clean, right?" 

He nods as he takes his shorts off, mumbling, "Yes, I took a shower after, um, Dickie, ah, you know." That's not what I meant, obviously, but he's only had sex with paid pussy boys who always use condoms, so he's safe. He looks at the floor, mumbling, "Do you mind if I ask why you don't have any hair around, un, your privates?" I tell him, and he says, "Wow, that's interesting. Was it hard training?" 

Oh fuck, I don't want him thinking of doing that. I said, "It's hideous, and I couldn't take it, so I quit. You don't want any part of being a pussy boy trainee!" 

He looks over my shoulder, mumbling, "Dickie's my size, and he could pass the test, but you couldn't?" I nod; "That's right." Frowning, he mutters, "But why would you even want to be a pussy boy if you're rich." 

Patting his shoulder, I go, "Good question. It's complicated, and I know now that I'd rather pay for it. I wasn't cut out to be a pussy boy."

We're naked, still just standing here. Clark, unlike Dickie, who has never felt the need to mention his short penis, says, "Ah, that is, I'm sorry about my small dick, Zach. It's what I was born with, so... um, sorry." 

I gently pull on his ponytail, mumbling, "Whaddaya talking about? You saw Dickie's dick, plus you fucked me earlier really well? Hell, I pay him to fuck me, right?" 

He quickly tells me, "I won't charge you anything." Uh-huh, that misses my point about dick sizes entirely.

To get things moving, I ask, "What should we do now, Clark? You're the boss." He shrugs, "Um, do you wanna, um, suck my dick." I say, "Yep," and get on my knees, then lean over the same way I need to with Dickie. Clark's red pubic hair patch is neat to the point it almost looks as if he grooms it, although he doesn't. It naturally grows this way, and, as I mentioned before, his cream-colored torso with freckles on his shoulders is naturally hairless and void of muscular definition.

He's very clean and smells nice as I lick up what I'll call his four-inch penis, although it's shorter than that in this flaccid state. I lick it from the pointy head to the root and into his red pubic hair, which I didn't intend to do, except the trip was so short I couldn't avoid it. Then I do it again, and he rubs my head, mumbling, "And you still have the pussy boy haircut too. The Delaware pussy boys have the same haircut."

Ignoring his ramblings, I concentrate on what I'm doing because I like doing it. I'm missing the bulbous head and girth of the shaft on Dickie's penis, but Clark's dick is the same length, so it's almost the same thing. Well, not really. That's me trying to talk myself into believing it's like Dickie's. The third time I lick up Clark's dick, it responds and tightens up noticeably, so I hold it in my fingers and lick his balls which, like Dickie's, are normal size but appear larger because of the shortish cock. Moving his lower hanging nut around with my tongue, it feels fairly heavy, so I'm not surprised he shot that big orgasm inside me earlier. 

Mmm, by now, I'm getting into this, although with zero sense of submissiveness. My dick hasn't responded much so far either, but licking the inside of Clark's thin thigh, then the side of his scrotum gets Clark grunting as his dick firms up even more in my fingers, and my cock begins firming up a little bit too. This is recreational casual sex without much in the way of high expectations. Sucking cock is simply something I enjoy doing, and, as I've said, I like Clark and feel a little sorry for him, so I want to make him feel good.

When I've covered his scrotum with saliva, I put his firmed-up penis in my mouth... all of it. With both my hands on Clark's butt cheeks, which are a bit flat, I'm swirling my tongue around the head of his cock, hoping it'll get larger, but it doesn't. Giving up on that, my lips suck up and down on the shaft, which gets his dick growing slightly longer, and then it gets very hard, very quickly. Clark is groaning and shuffling his feet so much he's making it difficult for me to keep his whole cock inside my mouth, so I begin bobbing my head. My lips coverer my teeth and put extra pressure on the shaft. I bob up and down, and the third bob, his dick head, goes partially in my throat, and subsequent bobbing gets the whole head going in and out of my throat.

In short order, Clark is pushing at my head, going, "No, ahh, I'm going to..." and I pull my head back, letting his hard cock side out of my mouth on my tongue. There's a string of precum that breaks off drifting down my chin that I try licking off, then swipe at it with my fingers. Clark goes, "That was close." My fist closes on my semi-boner, and Clark sees me do that and mutters, sounding amazed, "I get a boner from sucking cock too."

I nod, wiping my mouth again, then say, "We both like doing it, right?" He nods, "Yes, sometimes that's all I can afford, and I'll suck off a pussy boy in Dad's car." I almost laugh, "Dad would be surprised if he knew that, huh?" He mutters, "God forbid." 

We're both casually stroking our cocks as I ask, "What should I do now?" He looks around, then goes, "Jeez, we don't even have lubricant. I've read online that you should always use a lubricant. Damn, I screwed this up by not buying a condom." I say, "Check the bathroom, Clark. There might be something in there we can use among the complimentary toiletry items." 

With his boner in his fist, he scurries into the bathroom. My dick is quickly losing its partial hard-on. He comes back, his boner bobbing up and down now that he's not holding it. He shows me a small tube of hand lotion. I shrug, "Let's try it." I'm not too concerned about lube because his dick isn't that big, even as a boner; plus, there's a pointy head. Hell, it went in effortlessly earlier and should go in even easier with the hand creme helping. 

Clark is uncertain what to do now, so I get on my hands and knees, saying, "Do you want me to lube up my asshole?" Shaking his head, doing a partial goofy-looking grin, he says, "No, I should do it, right?" I mutter, "Whatever you say, boss."

He unnecessarily spreads the lotion on my butt cheeks using the palm of his hand to smooth it out, back and forth, then more lotion on both my buttocks before pressing some of it at my asshole, which is the only place that needs it. Finally, he's pressing lotion inside, opening my anus to allow his finger in there. Clark is breathing raggedly, short ragged breaths as he finger fucks my anus. I'll bet he's unaware of the prostate gland being the source of much of the pleasure in that region. He doesn't rub it, although his finger moving up and down gets my prostate sensitized, and I squirm a little as my dick gets a little firmer.

When I'm about to mention he's lubed me enough, he gasps and murmurs, "That should do it," sounding out of breath. A second later, his cock is inside me. Goddamn, it hurt a little too. No, nothing like, for example, when Richard thrust his cock inside me, but it hurt a little this time. and I didn't notice it at Dickie's, but that was all fucked up. Clark's cock is wider than his finger, pointy head or not, so his boner spreads me open. It's a fleeting pain, but it woke me up... yeah, smallish cock or nor, I'm finally getting a full fucking today, and it feels pretty good.

And, as he was earlier, Clark's an energetic fucker, so there are fast and furious "Slap, slap, slap" sounds right off the bat. My rectum tightens on his boner, and I'm soon feeling good sensations. Nerve endings aren't aware of the size of their initiator; they're being activated, and pleasure from them gets me moaning, "Um, um, um, oh, oh..." I'm soon closing my eyes and enjoying a casual wave of sexual pleasure, not intense at all, but it's constant, and it's lasting quite a while too. I don't know, maybe seven or eight minutes before I realize it's been that long. My cock is a hard boner up tight against my belly as Clark keeps humping that wooden rod back and forth inside me, and it feels good!

Finally, my climax awakens and quickly grows stronger as I increase my groaning, which sounds desperate even to me. I realize I'm going to blow my load as I moan, "Ahh, oh oh, Clark, ahh, ahh," and my climax explodes, shooting straight out, whizzing past my neck, cum spray wetting a bit under my chin. I shudder, feeling great as I tighten my stomach muscles and shoot out a final spurt, then slump a little as Clark goes, "Eeeii, ahh," and fires his second cum load of the day inside me. I didn't feel it, but immediately, his thrusting is sloppy, with some cum splattering out of my ass with each of his last three thrusts. 

He's gasping for air, lying on my back for a few seconds before lifting and pulling out. Squeezing his dick, he mutters, "Oh, wow, that worked out okay... I did way better than I expected. I've only topped one pussy boy, so this was my second attempt at topping. Um, third if you count me doing it at Dickie's." Standing, I look around and spot a box of cheap tissues. Grabbing a bunch of them, I hold them at my asshole, saying, "That was better than okay, Clark, that was great. I needed that too, so thank you." 

He's doing his unfortunate smiling again, looking at the floor, mumbling, "I'm glad 'cause I was nervous but didn't want to disappoint you. I really went at it, didn't I?" I hug his shoulder, saying, "Yep. Gee, I wish you weren't leaving tomorrow. You can top me any time." His arm, of course, is around my waist as he squeezes, saying, "You could be my submissive bottom if you lived in Delaware." Okay, let's not get carried away here...

I ask, "Should we clean up a little, do you think?" He goes, "Yeah, okay." In the bathroom washing up, he looks at the sink, asking, "Would it be alright if I took some of these toiletry things here and in the shower?" Does he want this cheap shit? I nod, "Yeah, of course." 

As he's collecting the small sample-size item that I assume he'll take to college, I go into the living room. He told Dickie he was down to his last twenty dollars. So, what means so little to me will seem so significant to him. I get his wallet from his shorts and then get all the money I have from my bathing suit. I put five-hundred-dollar bills, four fifties, and assorted twenties and tens, all the money I have on me in his wallet. Putting the wallet back in his shorts, I get dressed. 

He comes out with both hands holding lots of small toiletry items, smiling his goofy smile. Huh, his flaccid dick now looks incapable of providing the pleasure I received from it. He says, "These toiletry things are great... thanks a lot. I'll take them all to college. Save me some money." 

"Good, they'd never get used otherwise." He wistfully says, "I wish you lived near me, Zach." I mutter, "Me too," and as he puts his old-fashion white jockey underpants on, I ask, "So, why the ponytail, Clark?" 

He says as if anyone would know this, "Tonsure phobia." I'm like, "Uh-huh, what's that?" He says, "I have deep anxiety and fear about getting my hair cut." 

I'll let that pass, saying only, "Oh, I see." He's dressed and says, "Should we go?" 

Nodding and feeling as if I should offer this, I go, "Sure, um, do you wanna hang out with me on the beach?" 

Walking down the hall, he says, "Thanks, I'd like to, but my parents are wondering what I'm doing, so they want me to spend the rest of the day with them." He puts his arm around my waist, so I put my arm across his shoulders and say, "I understand. Parents are like that." This kid is almost twenty-fucking-years-old!

We pass people who give us funny looks because we make an odd couple walking as gay boyfriends, which Clark appears to be oblivious about. At his car, I take my arm away, saying, "It's only a block from here, so I'll walk to the beach. I had a great time with you, Clark. You're a terrific dominant top." 

He looks down, saying, "I did okay. I surprised myself, but I wanted to please you so bad." I say, "Well, you did!" 

He says, "If we lived close, I'll bet we'd be boyfriends. We hit it off from the start, didn't we?" 

I nod, "Absolutely. Well, it's been great." I kiss him quickly. He blushes, mumbling, "We'd be boyfriends for sure." I go, "Yep, bye, Clark." 

"Bye," and I walk away, not knowing what else I could have done. I mean, he said he needed to be with his 'effing parents. I offered to hang out with him. Fuck, I feel bad for him... that's all. I did my best, and I feel okay about it. It was a decent fuck. Well, it wasn't hot and wickedly sexy, certainly not comparable to sex with Dickie and never mind sex with Bruce. 

Every climax doesn't need to be the experience of a lifetime, though. No, while there's no comparison to sex with Bruce, I'm presently not having sex with Bruce, so that doesn't count. 

In other words, there is no comparison between a horse and a car either,  but both are modes of transportation, so if you don't have a car, a horse has value in getting you from here to there faster than walking. Sex with Clark was like that... it got the job done, sort of.

So far today, I've made good progress on my three goals. The one with Bruce takes time...

To be continued...