Chapter Fifteen
When I was done telling Chubby about Carl's graduation party, leaving out anything to do with gay sex, he looked confused, mumbling, "What? You didn't know anybody there? Fuck, that party sounds as boring as watching paint dry. Sorry, Dylan, but how did you stand three hours of that?"
That's a good question. Squinting my eyes, I said, as if it were a question, "Fabulous food and the spiked punch." He rolled his eyes like, whoop-de-doo! Then, "You're still trying to impress that dork, Carl Denton, but why? You've already got the job as next year's senior editor of the newspaper."
"Yes, Chub, but he's mentoring me about the job and being very helpful, plus he is not a dork, and, um, he's even said he'd give me another haircut. That's how considerate he is. You're working six days a week, so..." Chubby says, "He's a better barber than me, but you and I have been each other's barber since we were little kids." I mutter, "Well, he offered, so..."
Our evening went as usual after that; Chubby loosened up as the night went on and didn't make a big deal out of the haircut situation. He seemed relieved because he has the window washer job and he's doing things with Ricky, and he feels less guilty if I'm doing some stuff with Carl. He told me how lucky he was to have me as a best friend and how much my friendship meant to him. It caught me off guard because he's usually not that, uh, sentimental, I guess is the right word. We were in the recliner together as usual, and there was a lot of physical contact watching baseball on TV, which I thought was hot... the physical contact, not the baseball game.
During a commercial, Chubby said, "None of us is perfect, Dylan. We all do things we wish we hadn't done, right?" Omigod, what's he referring to? I could feel my face turning red as I asked, "Like what? Whaddaya mean?" Chub says, "Like anything. Hypothetically, would you stop being my best friend if I did something you might think is gross or disgusting?" He sounded so wounded it scared me.
"What's wrong, Chubby? Are you in trouble?" He got irritated then and said, "For Christ's sake, I ask a perfectly understandable hypothetical fucking question that best friends are probably always asking each other, and you throw a fucking fit. There's nothing wrong! What could be wrong? Is that what you think, that I'm doing something wrong? Well, is it?"
This was bizarre, and I yelled back at him, "Are you nuts? Why are you mad at me?" We both had furrowed eyebrows and angry looks on our faces. Then I said, "Okay, Chubby, here it is: I can't think of anything in the world that you could do that would make me not be your best friend. Okay?" Chubby said, "That's all you fucking had to say in the first place! Thank you! There wasn't any need to start accusing me of doing disgusting stuff."
Frowning at him, then relaxing, I mumble, "We're good, Chub." That job is getting him down. He nodded, satisfied with my answer, and we returned to watching the game. We were both quiet for what seemed like an hour, but was closer to ten minutes before Chubby mumbled, "Sorry, Dylan. I don't know why I'm yelling at you." I told him that was alright, and I hugged his shoulders. He turned into me more, and we had an excellent snuggling three-inning period, watching the Red Sox lose again.
On the way to school the following day, smoking our first Marlboro Light together, Chubby said, "You know how much a billion is, Dylan?" I said, "A big number! A million, millions, I think." He passed the cigarette to me, "Go back one billion minutes, and Jesus was alive on here earth, and one billion hours ago is the Stone Age." I said, "Are you sure about that? That sounds like a big old crock of shit, one that you don't expect me to check out. Something you just made up."
Chubby nods and mutters, "Uh-huh. Ya wanna bet ten dollars?" I mutter, "I guess not," and Chubby flicked that cigarette butt all the way across the street and then said, "Fucking A, you don't want to bet!" I laughed, and Chubby grinned that great grin of his. I love him. The rest of the week that followed Carl's party was dull compared to the previous couple of weeks. Carl didn't text me, so after two days, I used my haircut as a reason to text him, saying he told me to text about my haircut and then lie, lie, lie about other reasons for texting, but he didn't fall for any of my lies and didn't text back.
I didn't give a shit about the haircut, obviously; I wanted him to fuck me. This is the problem with a one-sided boyfriend arrangement; the other party isn't aware of it and is much less invested in it. Fuck! Still, there's some good news. It's the last week of school for us underclassmen! Since Carl didn't answer my texts, I'm now doing what he told me to do. I'm waiting for him to call me.
Willie and I talked three times before he flew out to L.A. He'll be gone for three weeks, living with his grandparents and sightseeing with the movie stars. That wouldn't surprise me, as Willie is highly clever and exciting. We're getting together to make out and maybe more as soon as he returns. I'm quoting Willie, who says he will be my dominant top if we have a relationship, and I believe the chances of that happening hover around a ninety-nine percent sure thing.
At school, Robby and I talked daily about the lawn mowing job we'd be doing this summer. Wow, it was fun thinking about being with Robby daily, getting sweaty together, and all that. Haha. Oh man, seriously, Robby is candy for my eyes. Thinking about his looks made me realize how I'd wasted my early teen years being oblivious to the hot-looking boys around me. Now, thanks mainly to Carl, I recognize those boys who possess hot boy beauty, so hot it can take my breath away. Carl can say boy-pussy, so I'm saying 'boy-beauty.' It was so much fun to look and dream about maybe doing this or that with some of these cute boys. And I know I'm lucky to have as many nice-looking and pretty boys in my classes as I do because most guys are NOT cute. They're not ugly, but they're not cute. My section of Framingham, Massachusetts, is the exception to the rule, so lucky me.
Robby finally invited me over for a swim on Saturday. Technically, Dodger did the inviting, but Robby was there. Dodger, Robby, and I were talking at Robby's locker, and Dodger asked his big brother, "Can we invite Dylan over for a swim, Robby?" Robby was like, "Oh, absolutely. Saturday morning, for sure." It appears Robby never thinks of stuff like inviting guys over. I'd tried before to wangle an invite out of him with no luck. It's like he's clueless.
Whatever, I've got my little buddy Dodger looking out for me. He and I exchanged smirking looks at the prospect of swimming together tomorrow and maybe Dodger crunching my nuts. I get half a stiffy from just looking at either Robby or Dodger and looking at them together equals a full-blown boner. Man, being a gay teen has its moments, a lot of them, actually!
Most days, I was still running my four miles after school, and each time I ran, I stopped in at the rest area with my asshole scrubbed, but no Tom Delcarmen, no Marine in sight. I admit I was disappointed every time he wasn't there. When I woke up Saturday morning, it was pouring rain, which meant no swimming with Robby and Dodger. Fuck! All my final exams for Junior year were completed, and every paper assignment was completed and turned in. I was good with school, so the entire day was open in front of me for all the good that would do me. Chubby was working, Carl was in Maine, and Willie was on the West Coast. I've no idea where Larry is; if I knew, I'd probably call him. The thing about being gay and experiencing gay sex is you always want more. I was horny because I've had nothing in the way of gay sex since last Monday at the party.
Jerking off was, of course, an option, and I took that option as soon as Mom left with Tris for the spa. While stroking myself of late, it was always Carl I fantasized about, thinking about the way he engulfed me in his body while fucking me with those steady four or five-inch humps of his big hips, driving that great cock head up and down my boy-pussy. Oh my God, that felt so, so good. Visualizing that scene in my head got me so hard, and I eventually shot off a long string of cum, panting and pulling on my rod for all I was worth. It was a pleasant relief but nothing like the real thing. Once you get a taste of the real thing, especially from someone who knows how to fuck you good like Carl does me, oh boy, nothing else compares. I lay there on my bed, still stroking my softening cock, mainly thinking about Carl. My boyfriend, Carl, and what would he look like seventy-five pounds lighter? Would I fall in love with him?
Then, I thought about my new friend Willie, which was a nice thing. He's so cute and so cool. I loved making out with that boy. It all made me feel lucky to have Carl looking out for me. He introduced me to Larry, and from Larry, I met Willie. Oh, they are so hot, those three. I wish I could be with Carl, Larry, and Willie right now, just like at the graduation party. That silly concern I had about including spanking in our relationship seemed like a small thing now. Fuck it, spank my ass, Carl!
So, that passed the time, but an hour later, I was so bored I jerked off again, and thanks to that memory of Carl humping my boy pussy, I got off real nice that time, too. Finally, something good!
Because of the rainy conditions, Chubby got off work at two o'clock, and we got to go to a late afternoon movie. Both of us got soaked walking there in the pouring rain because we were too cool to use an umbrella or wear a raincoat. It was a soggy time coming home, but we had a lot of laughs together. Sunday was full of sunshine, but I got no call from Robby inviting me over for a swim, but that's okay. After making our special Sunday breakfast, Chubby and I did our run. Chubby was in a great mood today like he used to be every day. It was a great morning, afternoon, and night with Chubby. Nothing special, except it all was special when I was doing it with Chubby. It was like our days before he got the window-washing job.
So, it was a good weekend with my best friend, and the next day, Monday, I got a text from Carl that I needed to be at his house right after school. Ah-ha! I'll be there, which is what I texted back to him. I'm relieved because he wasn't sure he could fit me in before leaving for Maine. That reminded me I might see him, Larry, and Willie there in a month. God! I just got a boner.
School will be a waste of time these last three days because all the tests and work projects have been completed and turned in. All day it was busy work and bullshit, but the clock finally reached two o'clock, and I was one of the first ones out the door. I jogged most of the way to Carl's, excited with a squirmy feeling in my cock and balls. I'm horny for my one-sided boyfriend. Carl doesn't know I think of him as my boyfriend; he knows I've got the hots for him, though, which I do.
Taking a deep breath, I ring Carl's doorbell, and he answers, looking good. He's got a short summer haircut, the beginning of a tan, and he's handsome. I gulp and timidly mumble, "Hi, Carl, thanks for having me..." He cut me off, "C'mon in; let's go! Don't stand there on the stoop like a stoop!"
I come in and see he's holding his cell phone against his chest, telling me, "Go upstairs to my bedroom and get undressed," and then he talks into his phone, "Sorry, someone was at the door. Um, when I get there, I expect..." and he angrily waves at me to get upstairs. I was staring at him, playing with myself. He's bigger than life to me. In his bedroom, I take everything off except my jockey underpants and look at myself in the full-length mirror on his bedroom door. I look okay and maybe better than okay. I'm squeezing my junk as Carl opens the door, muttering, "Don't play with yourself. You're not twelve years old, Christ!"
I can't catch my breath; he's so awesome, but it's impossible to ignore that he's, um, well, he's fat. His stomach hangs over the waistband of his shorts, and the handlebars on his sides bulge out his Polo shirt noticeably. I murmur, "Thanks for having me over, Carl." He points at me and says, "Never binge-text me again! Got it?" Nodding, I feel my dick getting firm. Isn't that odd? I get aroused by Carl treating me poorly. "I'm sorry, but you said I needed a haircut, and I didn't want..." He said, "You can leave your underpants on while I do your summer haircut, and then he went into his little bathroom and closed the door.
I take three slow, deep breaths and get myself under control. I hear the toilet flush and water turning on, and then Carl comes out drying his hands on a small hand towel, saying, "Look, I'm sorry for being snippy, Dylan, but I've got a lot on my mind. After your haircut, I'll give you a good hard fucking that will need to hold you over until I get back from Maine." I hold my hand up, and he says, "You're not in second grade. Whaddaya want?" I shrug, "You said maybe I could come to Maine, so..." Carl shakes his head, "I don't remember saying that. Can you water ski?"
"Water ski? No, I don't know how to do that." Carl moves the chair facing the mirror on the door, mumbling, "Sit up straight, don't slouch! Keep your head steady." I sit, my back straight like I'm at attention for the Marine. Carl takes a box containing his haircut clippers and other barber stuff off a shelf and plugs in the clipper. He looks at a few attachments, chooses one, puts it on the clippers, and runs them down the right part of my head, leaving maybe a half-inch of hair in the clipper's wake. It was so fast and so shocking; my dick boned up instantly and outshot a squirt of precum, feeling like a climax. Pushing my boner to the side, I moaned, "Ooh, Ummm," as Carl, without feeling he needed to explain, did that front-to-back run of the clippers five more times, moving the clippers over each time and then to get any hairs he missed, he does it all over again, pressing the clippers on my scalp.
I remember having a sexual reaction the last time he cut my hair, and it was the strangest thing! It's a sexy feeling, and I'm not sure if I'm reacting this way because it's Carl cutting my hair or because it's being cut without checking with me if I wanted a half-inch burr haircut. He just did it. I had no say. I'd rather not have a haircut this short, but I don't care all that much. Sure, he could have asked if I wanted my hair this short, but I wanted to please him, so no problem.
As if that wasn't bad enough, he changed the attachment to a shorter one and ran the clippers up the sides and back, leaving only eight inches of hair. My Marine would approve of this haircut. Carl was done in three minutes, and my light blond hair was shorter than ever in my life.
Unplugging the clippers and putting them away, Carl says, "That'll hold you until I get back from Maine." I guess I'm not going. Well, I usually will be cutting grass on Saturdays anyway. Carl mutters, "Get the dustpan and brush from my closet and sweep up your hair. I need a soda. Do you want one?" I'm in a trance, still sitting here, looking at myself in the full-length mirror on the door, my underpants wet with precum. Carl, clueless about anything unusual happening, mumbled, "I'll bring you one, anyway. Get busy sweeping up your hair, Newman!"
Getting a haircut in your underpants would be freaky for almost everyone, and it was for me, too. Freaky, but I've got a boner. I hear his heavy footfalls thumping downstairs. He's not in the best mood or his usual awesome self today. I can't stop gawking at my reflection in the mirror on the door. This is the first time in my life I've seen myself with a burr haircut, and I try being pissed off about not being consulted, but I can't get mad because if Carl likes it, then I like it, too! The sides are almost to the scalp, but I think it looks cool.
I know that Chubby will scuff at the haircut because he didn't do it and because Carl might as well be a professional barber; he cuts hair so well. I haven't seen anybody with a better burr haircut than mine.
Hopping up, I'm like, "Dammit," because I don't still have a boner, but the wet spot has seeped through the front of my underpants. I take them off and get the dustpan and brush. Getting aroused from a haircut is so fucked up, although all boners are appreciated, and this one felt extra good. I meticulously swept up every hair off the hardwood floor, not that there was a big pile of hair because the last haircut Carl gave me was short, too. Dumping the hair in a wastebasket, I stare at myself and nod because I like anything Carl does with me.
The cut hairs are in the trash, my boner has left the building, and I put the dustpan and brush back where I got them. I'm sitting on the desk chair again, smiling and admiring my reflection in the mirror on the door, when Carl opens the door and asks, "How do you like it?" I say, "It's my favorite summer haircut of all time." He rubs my burr head, mumbling, "You are a very likable motherfucker; I gotta give you props for that. Anyway, it's good that you like the haircut because I've decided it's your haircut until school starts again in the fall. If I'm going to be seeing you a lot this summer, I want you looking sharp." I nod in hero worship of Carl.
Then, with a finger under my chin, lifting my head, Carl says, "You need to suck a boner on me, then use this," and he holds up a tube of K-Y lube, "To lube your pussy and my boner. You, me, Larry, and his boy, Worthington, have never had sex without a condom, so as long as we stick with that, I can do you without a condom. It won't feel different for you until I drop a load in you, but I do notice the difference." I nod, kneel, and say, "We've already done it without a condom."
"I know that! I'm reinforcing that you cannot have sex with anyone without a condom. Got it?" Nodding, "I'm sorry. Yes, I understand, Carl. I won't have sex with anyone but you." Why did I say that?
He mutters, "Whatever. Give me a good blowjob, but stop when I say to stop." Picking up his average-looking penis, except for the oversized head, I ask, "Are we boyfriends yet, Carl?" He says, "No, we're not! Suck my cock. You're my cute, sex-toy boy who asks too many questions and is going to be spanked if I don't have a hard-on two minutes from now."
I almost don't want to suck a boner on Carl in two minutes so I can experience his discipline. Christ, that thought made my dick twitch. Wanting always to do what Carl says, I suck on his tasty cock, licking and stroking it, and get it bullet-hard in ninety seconds. He says, "That's good. Lube me up, but don't stroke it too much!"
Pushing gel up my ass a little, then leaving a blob of it on my anus, I stoke two fistfuls of lubricant on his boner, feeling it grow a little. It's plenty hard. "Here, use these tissues to wipe your hand, Dylan. I don't want you spreading lube on my desk." I do that, and he says, "Lean over, hands on the edge of the desk, and push your pussy up so I can mount you with a bang."
Oh, God. I'm wickedly aroused. Carl has me wrapped around his little finger. I'd do anything for him. Then I screeched, "Ahh!" as he plowed his hard cock right past both sphincter muscles and humped his cock up my ass until he was grinding his groin on my buttocks. My brain is flashing red blotches of pain, but almost immediately, the pain feels warm and manageable, the lips of my anus providing the heat, still stinging, but Carls pulls back his boner and pushes it back up my ass. He's not being rough, nor is he being gentle... he fucks his boy just right, and I'm almost purring.
Carl's fucking my ass perfectly, and the pain turns to a kind of pleasure I can't describe. Here's what I know: So far in my life, nothing comes close to how good this feels and how much I love Carl fucking me. And believe me, there are some drawbacks, like his belly fat floppy against the lower part of my back and the fat from his thighs feeling gross against the back of my skinny legs, but I ignore that because everything else is perfection. Oh, except when he climaxes and lies on my back, and his tits are bigger than my mom's. That feels, um, like a fat naked woman lying on my back. A few not-perfect things, but overall, there is nothing I like as much as getting fucked by my boyfriend, Carl.
He gets into an excellent rhythm, and I'm unto a mantra of, "Oh, oh, oh, oh," and then, "Fuck me, Carl, fuck me.... it feels so good. Then, "Smack" when he slaps the back of my head, murmuring, "Shh! My parents are downstairs." I go, "Ahhh," and climax, shuddering like mad as a strong, creamy load of cum smatters against the desk chair. Carl makes a grunting sound as he humps into me extra hard and leaves it there, humping against but butt cheeks as he fills me up with his load.
Gasping, he pulls out with his cum running out and down my buttocks, around under to my scrotum, and down the back of my legs. I stay bent over, holding onto the desk as another shudder rolls over me, and then a fabulous after-effect with shivers. Carl is pulling up his pants, out of breath, mumbling, "Get dressed," and he smacks my ass hard, "Smack!" I yelp and pick up my wet underpants, pulling them up; they're immediately soaked through in the back with Carl's cum. My precum in front and Carl's cum in back. My underpants feel wet, but I like it! Then, putting on my shorts and T-shirt, I enthusiastically say, "That was fantastic, Carl. Can I come tomorrow, please?"
Carl says, "NO! I don't know what I'll be doing. I'll text you when I want you. Hurry, get dressed!" I'm dressed, and Carl hustles me downstairs, where I see his mother coming in the side door carrying a grocery bag. She says, "Oh, you look so nice, Dilbert." Then to Carl, "Did you give him that haircut? It's so preppy and summery." Carl mutters, "Yeah, mom. His name is Dylan. Not Dilbert." I say, "That's okay," and Carl pats my ass, saying, "Okay, out you go," and walks out the side door with me, adding, "I might not see you again until after Maine. Don't worry, though; I have my barber tools, so I'll redo your summer haircut. Um, don't nag me, though. Text me once and wait for my instructions."
He ushered me out of there pretty fast. I hold onto Carl's arm, murmuring, "I was hoping we'd do something, Carl. Make out or have a second fuck or whatever. I don't get to be with you much, please... I think you're so..." He yanks his arm away, muttering, "Larry warned me I was being too nice to you. Look, I gave you a great haircut and fucked you. Jesus, we're not married! That's all for now."
I looked down, and he sighed and rubbed my head, saying in a nicer way, "Okay, I'll try to fit you in before I leave." He looked around, then hugged me. "I knew you'd fall for me. Didn't I tell you that the first day I took you under my wing? Huh, didn't I?"
I hug him back, "Yes, I remember that. You were right, too. I love you." He mutters, "Jesus," and chuckles, then lets go of me, "That's all for now, Dylan. Take off." I nod, grinning and saying, "Don't forget. You said you'd fit me in." He chuckles, "Yeah, I'll try, but do not send me forty text messages, or I won't fit you in."
Walking home, I keep running my fingers over my head, feeling my half-inch burr haircut. It still feels soft, but the sides and back resemble the Marine's haircut. So, it was only twenty minutes total with Carl, but I can't be too disappointed. I felt great about my haircut and that hot gay sex, and I begged my way into seeing him one more time before he left.
It's a half-hour walk home, and when I got home, I realized that I won't do much running this summer because I'll be working for Robby, so I better take advantage of these last two days. Because of the precum and Carl's cum inside and on me, plus the lubricant, I took a quick shower and scrubbed my ass. Dressed, I got a water bottle for the run because it was hot today.
My run was a good one! I'm feeling light on my feet and made good time for the first two miles. There's nothing like being sexually satisfied, which I am, but I'm still hoping for a Marine surprise. Whoa, what's that? Coming up to the rest area trail, I saw someone going around the bend. Oh man, it has to be Tom. And, just like that, I'm nervous with anticipation. I did a mental check: pubes shaved last night, and my ass was scrubbed less than forty-five minutes ago. They were the two things I needed to get right or get a Marine spanking again, and I did not want that. A Carl spanking is okay; a Marine spanking is not okay.
Walking up the trail, I'm thinking that I can enjoy the whole scene with Tom, understanding that it is just regular gay sex play. He's the dominant part, and I'm the submissive part. It's the same with Carl, so there's no mystery there. It's all fun!
Around the last group of trees and, yep! The Marine is pulling down his running shorts to take a piss, just like the first time I met him. A smile broke out on my face, thinking that I'm not horny, so I'm interested in how it'll feel being fucked when I'm not horny. Getting ready, I stood up straight with my hands at my side and shoulders back. I'm beginning to get a stiffy already. Adjusting my package a little, the Marine looked up, his piss stream just beginning. "Where ya been, Dylan?" he asked casually. Then, "Excellent haircut!" He was making me nervous again with those cloudy blue eyes staring right into my eyes.
Gulping, I said, "Um, thank you. My, um, friend just gave me this haircut two hours ago." Tom's pale yellow piss stream was tentative now as he finished and said, "Get over here right now." What was this, something new? But I hustled right over, and he nodded to his big penis, "Put that in your mouth." It was still dripping pee when I took it in my fingers. He said, "Bend down and put it in your mouth!"
When I bent down slightly, hesitating, he got a killer hold on the back of my neck and pulled my face right into his bush, rubbing my face around in the wiry hairs. I could smell his urine. Pulling my head back a couple of inches, he took his penis from my fingers, pushed it against my lips, "Open, Dylan." I did, and when that big, fat cock head was in my mouth, he let loose a long, strong stream of pee, saying, "Swallow it." I did, but I hiccupped, and pee sucked up my sinuses, as his cum did that time I sucked him off. Pee blew out both nostrils, and a lot of pee was streaming down my chin and the outside of my neck, rolling onto my T-shirt. It was light-yellow urine that smelled like you'd expect pee to smell.
It tasted like urine smells, too. More pee flowed from his penis, and I coughed, then inhaled more up my sinuses and out my nostrils, same deal all over again. It burned my sinuses, and I was gasping for air and splattering Tom's pee all over myself. His firm grip on my neck kept me level with his crotch. When he finally ran dry, my face and the front of my neck and chest were pretty much drenched and dripping.
"If you want to play games with a Marine like you've been doing with me, finding where I work and so forth, you've got to expect some payback like today, for example. Now, get your ass over to the bench and suck me off. The last time, you did it the way you liked, and this time, you'll do it the way I like, meaning deep throat." He walked me toward the bench, still bending me over with the grip on the back of my neck as he muttered, "I like your new haircut, so I'm going easier on you than I was thinking I'd go."
I tried to tell him that I had to pee, too, but I was too busy getting oxygen into my lungs. Finally, I grunted, "Please, Tom, I need to pee." He said, "Well, why didn't you say so when we were at our pee tree?" He dragged me back to the tree, and while I was still bent over, he used his other hand to wipe my face and neck with the little towel he always has. He got the wet pee mostly off me, but there was still plenty of pee dampness left behind. Letting go of my neck, he got his wrist under my chin, then his forearm, and jerked me upright. "Pull down your pants and pee," he said in a conversational voice.
His actions seemed like he was mad at me, but his voice sounded like he wasn't mad at anything. As I struggled to get my running shorts down, he raised his forearm under my chin, so I had to get up on my tip toes like the other times I pissed with him. His face was beside mine, and he scratched my cheek with his whiskers, muttering, "You smell like urine," but he didn't seem to mind the pee on my face. I swear to God, it felt like he was kissing the side of my head, and I think he was. My pee came gushing out as I really had to go. When my pee stream began running out, he pulled down the back of my shorts and pushed his finger way up my asshole.
Stars twirled around inside my head with pain. That finger had no lube, not even spit, and it hurt. "All done, Dylan?" he asked in this friendly, concerned voice. I grunted, "That hurt." The Marine said, "Did it? Just imagine how much it would have hurt if your ass wasn't full of lubricant. How long ago were you fucked?"
My face almost burst out in flames; it got red and hot. Tom couldn't see it, but I felt it, timidly saying, "Two hours ago," and he snickered, "I'm not all that shocked. And I missed seeing you the last couple of runs I've done." My senses were all over the place. He didn't care; I was just fucked? He seems nice, so why was he rough with the piss? When my pee stream dried up, I shook off the last few drops, and then he used that finger up my ass to pull and guide me over to the bench, and on the way, I got a painfully hard boner, and I stroked it while moaning softly.
Sitting on the bench, he said, in a pleasant conspiratorial voice, as if we were both in on this rough-housing, "I'll bet you missed this kind of mistreatment, didn't you? I could tell you liked it hard that time I spanked you, and your little dick got hard." I grunt, "It's not little," and he rubbed his mostly soft penis around my pee-stained face. I was in a fog and said nothing about that, so Tom said, "Don't pout, Dylan. I'm going to let you suck it." Without uttering a word, I got on my knees and took hold of his flaccid penis in a trance, and sucked on the head for a minute. It is a very nice penis head, and I like sucking cock, so...
Then, getting with it, I began lapping from his nuts to the head of his cock, all around it, saliva dripping off my pee-stained chin, and then sucking the head some more, amazed that it was getting longer and harder. The skin of my boner was about to split my cock was so hard. Tom grunted, cupped the back of my head with his right hand, pulled my head forward so there was a straighter avenue down my throat, and forced his bone-hard penis into my throat, the fat head spreading my esophagus making me gag like crazy as all those familiar panicky feelings occurred like the last time. This was never going to be pleasant for me, but I was stroking my boner with each penetration of my throat.
It's become evident that being dominated arouses me greatly. He knew that before I did, but there is so much to learn, ya know? It felt incredibly good to stroke my cock, and I was just able to get enough oxygen in me around his boner to survive. If I hadn't had that fabulous climax a couple of hours ago, I would have climaxed by now, but Tom pulled his cock out and did a quiet, "Ohhh, fuck..."
I looked up, and he was biting his lower lip taking short, rapid breaths, precum drooling from his hard boner as he wheezed out, "You're a sexy hot- shit, aren't you?"
It's pathetic, but I love it when he compliments me, and I grin like a dork. He said, "Okay, hottie, stand up, turn around, and bend over to grab the bench." He spread my ass cheeks, and I had a scary thought he was going to try to fuck me bareback with that huge cock of his, but no. Instead, I felt his tongue on my buttocks. He licked there for a while; it felt weird more than it felt sexy. Then a lap from just under my balls up my crack, then again and again. My softening penis began firming up when he started licking over my asshole, then on my asshole, and finally, totally unbelievably, his tongue went inside me.
What a bizarre sensation that was, but I mean in a sexy manner. Another new experience that had me squirming like mad. It was almost too odd to be sexually arousing, and yet it was. My face was scrunched up, and I wanted to stroke my boner, but Tom chose that moment to reinsert his finger up my ass, pulling on it, saying, "Come on, Dylan. We better get inside the lavatory for this next trick." Up on my toes, he fast walked with me half bent-over into the lavatory, then through the little foyer to the toilets area.
Over against a sink, Tom says, "Suck my cock first to get it real slippery." I turned around, still bent over; I took his boner and sucked the head till it was dripping with my spit. He turned me around again, and when I felt him take hold of my hips with both hands, I instinctively grabbed hold of the sink. Gritting my teeth, he pressed the fat head of his cock against my anus, increasing the pressure little by little until the head forced its way inside me. I didn't scream like a little girl. I groaned and whimpered and begged, "Wait a second, please." He pushed his big boner in little by little till about two inches of that eight-inch, fat boner was in my boy pussy. I was lucky to have the leftover lubricant from Carl's fuck inside me.
Tom pulled his boner out two inches and then back in two inches, and again and again, and it started feeling good, then better than good. I moaned, "Mmm," and he pulled his cock out of my ass, saying, "That's all for now. I just wanted you to feel it. Finish sucking me off." I'm like, "What? Why..."
He says, "Yeah, turn around, but stay bent over and finish me like that. It'll be easier taking my cock down your throat this way." I felt beat up and abused. My cock had gotten limp again, but what could I do? I put his hard cock in my mouth and was shocked to taste acrid feces from my ass. I cleaned it, but not up inside my rectum where this big cock had been. It took half a minute of severe sucking and licking before I lost the shit taste, and by then, he was deep-throating me with smooth thrusts of his hips, and shortly, my boner came back up and, against all odds, two minutes later, I had one of the hardest climaxes ever. Black dots flooded the inside of my head, and there was a little girl in the lavatory making a shrill sound when I shot off like a volcano.
The Marine climaxed in my mouth right about then, and fifteen seconds later, cum was blowing out my nostrils again. During his climax and my subsequent efforts to clear my sinuses, I never stopped stroking my cock. It was such an erotic feeling to be involved in this dominated sexual experience. I had no explanation for why; what had seemed like a nightmare when I was going through it was now incredibly sexy to me. Tom had pulled his cock out and was stroking it, saying quietly, "That was hot, wasn't it?"
I thought it odd that he didn't appear the least concerned that I might be pissed off at him for bullying me like that, and I wasn't pissed off at him, which is another odd thing. Tom went to the sink, ran water and soap from the provided canister to clean the finger he'd had up my ass, and then he wet his towel and began wiping my face, all the time talking in this friendly voice as if we'd worked together to make it a hot, sexy time. I stood there in a daze following that unbelievable climax. Tom cleaned my face and neck, then muttered, "Take off your T-shirt, and I'll rinse out the piss, Dylan. In this heat, it'll dry quickly?"
Then, looking at me, he stepped back and asked, "What's wrong, you look confused?" I told him I didn't like the way he treated me today. Tom chuckled and said, "You're kidding, right? I saw the cum fly out of your little cock, and I heard your moans of pleasure after you squealed like a cunt having her first climax." He's serious about that. He pulled my T-shirt off over my head and washed the pee out in the sink. Then, wringing it as dry as he could, he said, "Come on, Dylan, we need to talk."
Outside, he spread my T-shirt on the bench in the sun, and we stood there with me bitching about him pissing in my mouth, and he said he hadn't planned on it, but if I didn't like it, why did I do it? He was surprised I'd never tried water sports with my boyfriend. Tom said he could take them or leave them and asked, "You do have a boyfriend, right?" I nodded even though Carl said we weren't boyfriends. Then we talked about Tom's rough behavior and how he thought that's what I liked.
I used the excuse that I was new to all this and didn't know what I liked. And when we were done talking about it, he put his arm around my shoulders, and I had my arms around his waist. He said he wanted to tell me a bit about himself. He'd met his civilian wife at a Marine training facility; they fell in love, she got pregnant, and they married. He loved her, he loved their year-old daughter, and he expected to spend the rest of his life married, but he also got an itch for male-sex play occasionally, too. I was the fifth submissive partner he'd had sex with since he was sixteen years old, and he liked me the best of them all. I thought he probably told the other four the same thing.
I told him I wouldn't run this summer because I'd be working. Tom gave me his work email address and told me I'd have to email him to arrange a meeting, at which time he'd finish the fuck he started today, and I'd need to bring the condom to show him I wanted him to fuck me. He had pushed the head of his boner in me so I'd have an idea what I was in for.
He left first, and I went into the lavatory for more cleaning. I still smelled his urine and washed my face and hands using the soap dispenser. Drying with paper towels, I was positive I'd never call him and wasn't sure I believed his story. Walking out of the lavatory, I deleted his email address, and now there's no way I can email him. What am I thinking? I know where he works. It's a street I'll be sure to stay off of.
Carrying my damp T-shirt, the rest of the run wasn't that great because my asshole was sore, but I persevered, and approaching the house on this scorching day, I noticed Mom had the window air conditioning unit running for the first time this year. Inside was refreshingly cool. I heard Mom getting ready for work in her bedroom as I got a cold drink and thought about how I'd survived the Marine experience and probably had learned something, although I'm not sure what that was, if anything. I smiled because I like being a gay slut, haha.
To be continued...
