Oh Marcie, thank you for being the nosy and insistent darling you are. Your love means so much to me. I never thought the day you saw me in the dorm bathroom stomp into one of the shower stalls for a place to jerk off would lead to events that would grow into a fast friendship between us. You are probably the best friend I have ever had. That is why I have agreed to write down this account of my adventure into a torrid sex life, all be it a dangerous one. You know our agreements and for purposes of this correspondence, I am just “Blonde”.
Bruce! Where do I start about a starved-for-sex creepy dude like him? I guess that restaurant in Georgetown in the middle of the week during happy hour where we met alone for the first time ~ that was when I finally threw in the towel and let a “boy luver” pervert seduce me. His law office was the best place to score some not too difficult bucks in the temp circuit. Too bad I can’ t work there anymore.
Yeah, no surprise there where physical attractions are concerned. I had seen it since I was 12. Men, at least in their late 20s would stare at me in a public setting. Never blinking, there is always that hungry expression on their faces. I’m cute to the point of being desirable beyond the wildest imaginations of so many perverts. It has been a slow transformation over months and years to become that confident beautiful boy toy finally starting at about 19. You know how to keep my blonde locks fashioned at just the too-sweet-to-resist Dutch boy cut that fulfills my mission of being the optimum tease for all those perverted daddies ~ and there are so many of them ~ people have no idea.
Now I can hardly imagine a life without the thrill of older men, sometimes much older, stripping me naked with their eyes. Those looks speak volumes beyond the capability of spoken language ~ nothing furtive or hesitant there. I sense all my clothes being desperately yanked off me, especially my underwear. Even in the hot summer, everything seems to suddenly become very drafty ~ and I love it. Destiny has privileged me a life of sensual exhilarations and I know it is all the more gratifying to me that their foundations are rooted in what many would regard as unthinkable perversion ~ way beyond just the merely decadent. I can hardly imagine my life like this ever ending short of some twisted and frenzied sexually motivated murder.
But Bruce had the look of lusting desire that would thicken my dick to stand at aching drooling attention more than anyone else ever had. Whenever he looked at me, his mouth would curl into an impossibly subtle, but knowing sneer ~ as if to communicate to me that he knew the essence of who and what I am even before I could fully come to terms with it, myself. You know I am still a waif of a kid and Bruce seemed such a big dude to me in his early 40s. I’ve got some definition in muscles and chest here, but still narrow shouldered, only 5′ 5″ in bare feet.
Speaking of feet, they are only 9 1/2 shoe size but appear much smaller in sandals, which I always wear at the sports stadiums and to and from the gym in any kind of warm weather. My hands are broad but small with stumpy fingers. You have helped me most of all with those baby blue-eyed impish but curious expressions.
You have helped me find those cargo pants and other short pants or trousers that flatter my boy buns without being too tight or obvious. Those get checked out the most seriously and I know the hot tight secret that hides between them is what enlivens fat daddy dicks into thick truncheons of male flesh.
Bruce would wear such a fierce expression when he would check out those buns, always walking behind me when we would step out after work for a drink or bite to eat. I know the other people in his office must have caught him ogling me that way. At a booth or a table, he would hardly ever say anything. He would sit and stare, flashing that knowing look of unconcealed lust. My cock would throb and strain all the while.
That time we sat alone across from each other at the little out-of-the way booth, he asked me personal questions for the first time. Did I have a girl friend? What girls were I attracted to? Was I ever attracted to boys or men? I confided to him something I had never told anyone. You know from the psychology courses we have taken, that young kids go through a long latency period, but there are little events that reveal some inert sexual feelings. I told Bruce, that when I was young, I was often embarrassed to change out of my swim trunks with friends or men. Nonetheless, I would have a recurring nightmare from about 5 to 10 that wasn’t really a nightmare. It was frightening but delicious.
A great beast would come into my bedroom to assault me. Either that or I would be lost somewhere with almost no clothes on when it would come after me. It was never terribly well defined, but the ogre would snarl and growl, but also make a purring noise at the same time. It was more like a wolf than a cat, but kaçak iddaa very shaggy. I would be lying on my bed or on the ground just paralyzed with fear. But it would come up all terriby fierce, and with hand like claws, eagerly pull off my little pajamas or my little white briefs. As the garment slid off that revealed my little boy naked parts to it, the light in its eyes would glow brighter and it would start making little gravelly howling noises.
It would toss those briefs or pjs aside as if to signal that I was completely helpless and disposed to its intentions to me. Better I succumb to this monster whatever its fiendish designs, than ever suffer the degrading embarrassment of being rescued by a stranger in such a compromising circumstance. Those eyes would shine ever brighter as it ogled my naked frame, especially as it would focus on my sex parts. The only function I could muster was something I could not resist. I would raise my legs open and apart, so that it could also feast its eyes on my little boy buns as well. Before it would lay its hairy paws anywhere on me, I would wake up.
Eventually the dream changed where when it would pull off my pj bottoms or little white briefs, I would kick my legs in such a way as to assist it in pulling the covering off and away from me. My knees would be bent and legs spread apart so it could see everything. I think one time the dream had the variant where it pulled off the brief with me facing down and I involuntarily assumed a doggy pose in front of it.
When I stopped relating this very personal confidence about my childhood, he just looked me in the eye with that expression without speaking for what seemed like minutes. I felt more degraded by him then I had up to this point and I was really scared I was going to jizz my jeans without ever even touching myself. He pulled out one of his business cards and wrote something on the back of it before finally speaking up. “You don’t have any heavy exams or term papers coming up soon, do you?” Before I could answer, he continued. “Listen to me real carefully. On Friday night, you are going to come to my apartment. We are going to spend the weekend together. You are going to do exactly what I want you to do the whole time we are together, and you are going to love every second of it. You are going to find that submitting yourself to a real beast is to live your life ~ to really live it. This will be no dream. It will be the best weekend of your life. No other time will compare to it.”
He waited for me to respond, but I was just too stunned to speak from a brain stuffed with emotional conflict. He handed me the card he had just written on. “Your parents are paying for a very expensive education. . . This weekend you are going to get perhaps an even more valuable education they will never pay a penny for. You are going to learn just who and what you really are. Forget the idea of ever getting it on with a girlfriend, Blonde. That is just a pointless pursuit that was premised on a dream that was never really there.” He slapped down a $50.00 bill. “With the change, buy yourself some things that will look nice coming off you, not quite so childish as in your dream. . . Friday night at my apartment door no later than 8:00 PM. Something tells me you will be there earlier, though.” He flashed me his knowing sneer one more time before he walked out. That was when you saw me punch open the bathroom door, Marcie when no one was in there but us two. I only said a quick hello and stomped off to the last shower stall in the lineup. I needed to bust my nut so bad, I did not even go back to my dorm room to get a towel. As I was frantically tearing my clothes off to get myself under the shower head and stroking, I heard you say something like “I guess you really feel the need for that shower, huh?”
“Yup! I worked too late today.” I thought about the way you looked at me when I marched right to the stall. I wondered whether you figured out what I was going to be doing. I wondered if you noticed my still rock hard bulge in my pants, or figured out I was hornier than a mad dog because of my near sprint to the stall and I did not even have a towel. I didn’t hear the door squeal, so I knew you were still in the room when I dropped my boxers. The entire front and some of the back was soaked with the flow seeping from my pee hole and I wondered whether you could smell it.
We were all used to the girls using the dorm bathrooms. Hell, I have peed into a urinal when girls have been there 100s of times. Everyone just takes it in stride. But after I came a gusher load of cum and finished my shower, the beers at the restaurant were running through me and I needed to pee in the worst way but didn’t have a towel. So I stepped out shivering dripping wet to pee. As I was peeing into the urinal naked that way, I heard a couple of girls walk in. I’m sure they saw me bare assed, but I know other guys have used the urinals naked when girls have come in. They went about their business kaçak bahis as if I was not even there. But I swear it was the longest pee of my life and they must have wondered why I was shimmering wet, dripping little puddles on the floor. I think they were the ones who told other residents on the floor that I probably needed a towel, because my roommate came in and handed me one seconds after they left.
Now you know something else very personal about me. NO, I don’t pee in the shower.
Yes, you can imagine how hard I was when I showed up at Bruce’s spacious condo apartment that following Friday evening ~ all spotless hardwood floors and simple but comfortable leather furniture. I was there at 6:30 PM and he greeted me with that expression that nearly made me cum again. I was so distracted fantasizing about this rendezvous, I had found it hard to focus in class for the rest of the week. He told me with authority that the beer and food could wait until later.
He directed me to stand in front of his leather sofa. He sat down in one of the plush modern arm chairs and told me to take off my hooded sweat shirt and anything else underneath. I was to sit down just long enough to take off shoes and socks. When I stood up I was to be barefoot and naked above the waist. I was only supposed to unbuckle the belt of my jeans. I felt his eyes study my every move. My jeans were not so tight that he could notice the little flinches of my cock bouncing against the fabric, all a little dance with the excitement of the moment.
He told me to turn around and bend over to brace myself on the back of the couch. I could hold the soft leather covered end of the couch with my left hand, if I thought that would give me better support. He stood right behind me and I could feel his arms and hands reach around. The big fingers of his right hand felt for the zipper lever and he unzipped. He gave me one or two tender squeezes at my bulge that nearly sent me into a frenzy. It was the first time a man had ever touched me like that. He stealthily unbuttoned my new jeans and easily pulled them down for me to step away. Each item of my clothes as they came off were flung to the other side of the room. Once off, they were not going to be put on again, perhaps never if that was his inclination.
He saw I was only wearing a pair of white briefs two sizes to small. They almost could have been for a little boy. My straining hardon was causing the fabric in the back to stretch such that the top of my crack was exposed and the outline of the rest was tight against the stretched fabric. I could feel him smile as he chuckled. “Yes, my sweet little cutie. You are definitely getting the hang of this whole situation.”
I felt his big fingers tug at the band of the briefs and start to pull them down. I was breathing heavily from my nervousness and let out a noisy sigh of exhalation as they were half way down my legs. They were down and he helped me step out of them softly caressing my bare feet. As I heard him sniff the odor of the stimulated discharge on the fabric before he flung the last vestige of my pathetic modesty away, I felt this profound warm tingle all over and my heart beat like the crescendo of a symphony. The sense of beauty came over me that more than submitting myself to him willingly naked and vulnerable to all his lecherous aspirations, it was to be the paramount joy of my life to surrender to him this way. I was to be that special treasured boy who would dote on him and accommodate each of his terrible perversions. The wisdom of his observations sank heavily upon me. Seeking out female physical companionship was futile now. I was to be a very different person than all that and my life would be enriched beyond my imagination for it.
When he first caressed and then groped one of my boy buns, I became a faint mass of goose flesh and I weakened at the knees. I exhaled another noisy sigh. He was happy to allow me to widen my stance a few inches. I heard him step about and crouch behind me. I felt his hot breath, wet tongue, and nibbling teeth on my innocent back pair that were about to be corrupted into lascivious pleasures that only a man can accomplish. “You disgusting little slut. These sweet cheeks are mine. Never forget that this pair of boy cheeks belong to me now.” I started moaning, but he gave them some firm slaps. That caused me to clench them. He liked that and slapped them more lightly. He was sitting on the floor and leaning against one of my legs. He softly but firmly caressed the inner thigh of that leg while he continued to nibble and kiss the lower end of my cheeks. Every time his big finger or hairy hand would brush up against my electrically charged nuts in their sac, I was scared stupefied that I would start shooting. I was just a delirious pile of pleasure pit. With just the big fingers and thumb of his right hand, he parted the crack so that my twitching pucker was visible in the soft light of the room. I could tell he illegal bahis shifted his face real close and sniffed with his big nose. He dove in with out-stretched tongue apparently as if he was going to rape me with it. I gasped and groaned with the aggressive attention to what I would later discover is both the spiritual and physical entry to my centered being. I both clenched and flexed, intent to acquaint myself to all the amazing sensations to my acquiring love hole.
I sensed him pull back. “No more pretty boy play. It is time to learn how a man hungers for boy bitches like you.” He would slap me hard on a cheek if I would start to crane my head to look back. I heard him unbuckle his belt, unzip, and his pants fall to the floor. Seconds later, I heard a squirting sound and felt his fingers at my pucker with cold lube on them. Instinctively, I flexed and they breached easily. They cramped a little, but I just embraced the feeling being explored up there that way was so right. To have my most personal orifice poked and prodded by a big man, a fierce and demanding man was an important part of my life and I had been in denial about features of my personality that defined my existence so profoundly. With two fingers he rubbed what I would later knew to be my ‘p’ spot just a few inches up against my pubic bone. I squealed like a girl and nearly shot again, and again, I experienced a ‘color me beautiful’ moment.
He withdrew his fingers. Mind you, I was still mostly bent over. “Alright, my little sweet cheeks. Let ‘s see how hot and tight your little hole is where it really counts.” Marcie, when he spread me open and lined up the end of his hot pulsing amazingly thick man meat to my little virgin pucker, I was yearning for it. I mean I was at the point where I craved it. He slammed it into me up to his hilt all at once. It knocked the wind out me for a second, but I had another epiphany. It didn’t matter that it hurt and burned some. This was the primal sensation of the linings of my tight little hole having to stretch and spread so wide and so tight all at once, through my bowels and into my guts, embracing the hottest and most aggressive excitement of a big man. This amazing experience was essential to living my life the way it is supposed to be lived.
Well, he started jabbing and slamming me. He grunted and snorted in his labored breathing. Again I felt beautiful for being tight and hot for his magnificent organ. He pummeled me so hard on every forward stroke, I had to step about and make an effort to keep standing, so he would not thrust me to the back of the sofa. I really thought he might split me in two and kill me. But I would get spent so viciously for having lived so ecstatically, regardless of how short a time. “You got some mean hot tight ass there kid. . . . This ass is mine. Got that?”
I could barely reply, he throttled me so. He pulled back some and shifted so that he was able to crash into my ‘p’ spot, and just as I thought I was going to shoot, he would go deep and long again. Each stroke was a sort of abusive heaven. When he finally shifted again to crashing into my ‘p’ spot, it was like something snapped inside of me. I lost control for melting into a 1000 hot shudders and great squirts of my stinking load of jizz shot against the clean dry leather surface of his impeccable couch. The girl inside me squealed and screamed her agonizing delight.
The clamp and clench that was my climax gripped his monster meat still pounding into me. He thrust his final hard stroke as deep as he could and growled his unsurpassed pleasure. I felt the silky warm wet mess pour into me. The throbs of his orgasm which just seemed to continue without end would flex my battered hole just a little more again and again. I wanted to be flooded. I didn’t want it to ever end. I was his for the asking and he was mine for the begging. He had planted his powerful flag in me. I was to be obedient to his hegemony. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Marcie, I really forgot how we disentangled ourselves. We were both wallowing in the sticky cum on the couch. I loved it and I was head over heals in love with him. He held me in his strong warm arms and kissed me. But I really could not be sure if he loved me or just wanted to possess me. He fucked me that way again that weekend and other ways as well.
But now, before I forget, I would like to remind you of how we cemented our own relationship, which is so important to me.
A few weeks later, I was studying for a paper I wrote for my anthropology class. It had to do with mythologies in religions of different cultures. Well I was in the library and I had one of the old books on the Greco-Roman pantheon out and studying it. Well those Victorians were full of homo erotic subterfuge because I was looking at all those illustrations of naked gods from Mt. Olympus and the naked people they favored. The males were in tip-top condition and I fell into a gay fantasy, that book open to those graphic pages. I did not realize that I stretched out when the chair was pulled back from the table and my hard and bursting bulge in my pants would be visible to anyone who passed by.