14 comments/ 115484 views/ 132 favorites The Toyboy Experiment By: cupbearer MONDAY I woke up, my face filmed with sweat, and had a drink from the glass of flat, room temperature water on the bedside table. I could hear the sounds of people in the pool, having a morning swim; the rasp of crickets in the grass; the chirp of birds. Through the slats in the shutter I could tell that the sky was clear as ever. Great, I thought gloomily. Another beautiful day. Going on holiday by myself had seemed like a great idea. I"d be free and unencumbered and none of my friends would be around to move in on any interesting woman I encountered. And there were plenty of interesting women at the hotel, but most of them seemed to be either married, or partnered, or 18 and looking for horny male 18-year-olds, not a horny male 28-year-old. I was in good shape and not bad-looking and I kept myself fit, but unlike a lot of the men in the hotel I didn't tan. I had dark hair and pale skin and after the first day, sunburn on my shoulders and back where I hadn't been able to reach with the sunspray. My face got a good colour but the rest of me remained obstinately pale. So that first week, I consistently went to bed alone. It wasn't for want of trying. I managed to chat to some cute women at the bar, a young, single Englishwoman who was on holiday with friends and a rather drunk Dutch girl who actually snogged me and suggested we date, and then went to the toilet and never came back. By the time I'd been in the hotel for a week, I was becoming increasingly frustrated. I had a routine. I got up, had breakfast, swam for a couple of hours, had lunch, then took a siesta in which I read, or wrote, or napped. Then I went for another swim, groomed myself, ate some dinner and hit the bars. But it seemed like nothing could shake the aura I had of Lonely Single Man. After a while, however, I became aware that someone was watching me. There were other single men at the hotel but most of them were fat, or middle-aged, or even more obviously desperate than I. But one of them was different. He was older, probably sixty, and tall, taller than I am, with short cropped silver hair and a goatee. He had a deep tan and a lean, rangy body, visible whenever he went swimming (which was often, in a pair of tight trunks that couldn't have been more different from my baggy blue swim shorts) and an air of remote amusement. And I was sure that he was watching me. Whenever I glanced his way, his eyes would be on me. Sometimes he'd return my gaze until I broke away, sometimes he'd go back to his book or stare out to sea or pretend that he hadn't been looking at me. I found this slightly unnerving, in that I had no idea why he was staring at me, unless he just found the spectacle of a young man trying to pick up girls very funny. He himself appeared to be alone, although once in a while I saw him dining with friends -- always a different set every time. He would be chatting and drinking wine and being charming, and then he would glance over at me and his gaze seemed to contain an element of taunt: don"t you wish you were doing this? After a couple of days in which his attention seemed to wander off me I decided that he'd lost interest in me. I couldn't blame him. I'd almost lost interest in myself at that point, and spent my late nights staying up and playing World of Warcraft and drinking the contents of the minibar. Then, the day I woke up and noticed with gloom that it was a beautiful day, he finally said hello. I had my customary light breakfast, read for a bit and then went back to my room and put on my trunks and headed down to the beach. It was blisteringly hot and I was, as usual, coated in sunscreen. After an hour of crawling up and down and basking and watching the wildlife, I had just about accepted that this was going to be a day like any other when all of a sudden, he surfaced next to me, blinking the water out of his eyes. He smiled. "Hello," he said. "Hello." "Another beautiful day," he said drily. I smiled. "Yeah," I said. "They can get a bit monotonous, can't they?" His accent was middle-class south of England, slightly refined; beyond that I couldn't be sure. "A little bit." "If you're with company it can be fun." "It happens that I'm not," I said. "Oh dear," he said. "Not for the want of trying, mind you," I said, feeling that I shouldn"t moan too much on a first acquaintance. "We can only try," he agreed. We floated there for a while in a peaceful silence. "Are you staying at the hotel?" I asked out of mere politeness. "Oh no," he said. "I have a house down the coast." "Ah," I said. "They let me use the beach because I have shares in the hotel," he said. "Nice," I said. "It is," he said. "Very convenient for meeting people." There was another pause. Then he said "Well, better crack on. It was nice to meet you." "You too," I said, reflecting that this was the longest conversation I'd had in days. He smiled warmly and struck off in his powerful crawl. About 20 minutes later I got out and headed for the showers. There was a shower block on the beach, a long, low building. There were sinks, and you could wash up and put your belongings in a crude locker with a key on a chain that you wore round your neck in the shower, and then you retrieved your stuff and dressed and went back to wherever you were staying. I had left it so late that there was nobody else on the beach, although there was a solitary swimmer coming in. I stood at the sink in my dripping trunks and washed my face with face scrub and cleanser. Then another man came in. It was the older guy from earlier, the guy with the house down the coast, dripping wet. He nodded and smiled at me, then quickly eased his trunks down his hips and stowed them in his locker and got under a shower. I finished washing my face, slid my swim shorts down my legs and put them in a locker, then I lathered my face with shaving foam and stood in front of the sink, naked, shaving. I didn't mind being naked among other men, especially on holiday where everyone was nearly naked most of the time. This time seemed a little different, however. Although I wasn't looking at him, I had the strangest suspicion that he was subtly checking me out. I found myself standing a little differently at the sink than I had been doing. I stood up a little straighter and squared my shoulders. If strange men were going to check me out, I didn't want to look bad. I'm not gay, and I"d never even been tempted to fool around with a guy, but on some level I felt that even a glance across the room from a possibly gay and rather elderly man was attention, and attention was what I'd been craving. And then he spoke. "You look fit," he said, washing his hair. I glanced over at him and smiled briefly in response. "Thanks," I said. I couldn't help darting the briefest of looks at his crotch, and I had to quickly look back at the mirror and continue shaving, because he had the longest penis I had ever seen, not that I'd seen all that many in my adult life -- even flaccid, it was at least five inches long, possibly longer, and narrow, but with a bulbous tip. It was as tanned as the rest of him and hung before two brown, hairless, wrinkled testicles. I"d noticed that he shaved his body. His only hair was under his arms and on his head and face. That alone served to back up my suspicion that he was gay. "Do you work out a lot?" he said politely. "Not really," I said. "I just look after myself." "You do a good job," he said. "You have a nice body." "Thanks," I said, genuinely grateful for the compliment but not particularly wanting the conversation to remain on that topic. "I must admit," he said, "I'm biased in that I prefer men"s bodies to women"s. Nothing against women as such, of course." "I think I'm the other way around," I said. "Yes," he said, smiling, "I thought so. Otherwise I'd have invited you for a drink." "Oh," I said, obscurely disappointed, and then puzzled about why I was disappointed. "Well, that would have been very nice, I'm sure, but I'm not really that way . . . you know. Inclined." "Never even been tempted?" he said, twinkling at me. I looked back at him for a moment, confused. Dammit, dammit, dammit: something about being alone, in this hot, humid, steamy room, with this man older than my father, the two of us stark naked . . . I did feel tempted. I was curious. I was also shocked at myself, for being so desperate that I'd consider a come-on from a complete stranger twice my age. I was at a loss for words. I partly wanted to just hang around him, vicariously experience some of his fun, seeing as he appeared to have more of it than I did, but without letting him think of me as someone who I wasn't. It wouldn't be fair to lead him on. "It wouldn't be fair to lead you on," I said. "How would you be leading me on?" he said easily. "Well," I fumbled, "I'm not saying I'm not curious...but I don't think I could, you know...actually do it." "Do what exactly?" he said, and then seeing my confusion and embarrassment he laughed, and the tension was broken. "I'm very sorry," he said. "It's me who's leading you on, I think. I'm sure I'm harassing you when you just want to have a shower." "No," I said. "I don't feel harassed." "Oh," he said. "I'm glad." "You seem very nice," I said. "I'm sure you're good company." "Thank you," he said, inclining his head politely. "I like to think I have my moments. Can I ask you a question?" "Of course," I said, no longer feeling embarrassed, just relieved that he was so amicable about being turned down. "If I were younger," he said, "would you be tempted then?" "Oh, it's not about your age," I said hastily. "Really?" he said. "Most young fellows I've met prefer the company of men their own age." "Right," I said. "No, it's not that at all. I think you're a good-looking guy. I think if I were attracted to men, I'd definitely be attracted to you." "But you're not," he said, smiling and staring at me. Once again, I found myself fumbling for the words. "It's not that I don't think you're attractive," I said. "It's just that I"ve never . . . done that." He shut off the water and walked towards me, slowly, smiling. I rinsed my face and turned to face him. "I have to admit that I do find you very attractive," he said with a hint of sheepishness. "Thank you," I said, my mouth dry. "Attractive," he said, "but also . . . provocative. There's something about you that just seems to invite attention. I'm sorry but there is. I hope you're not offended." "Not at all," I said softly. "It's not often you meet a younger man who's attractive, intelligent and friendly," he said. "I would have kicked myself if I hadn't at least tried something." "What have you tried?" I asked, looking him in the eyes. His eyes were green and clear. "I've tried talking to you," he said. "I've tried sweet-talking you. But I'm still getting mixed signals. You say you don't think you could do it. But you don't seem to want the conversation to end." "I don't," I said. "Why's that?" he said. "I like talking to you," I admitted. "My name's John," he said quietly. He was standing three feet from me, resting his weight on one leg. I was leaning slightly backwards, my buttocks against the sink. We were both naked. "Mine's Alex," I said. "Hello, Alex," he said, smiling. "Hello, John." I looked up at him, my lips parted, not thinking of anything except how he was looking at me. "Alex," he said, "either you walk out now or I'm going to have to kiss you." "Nobody's ever called me "provocative" before," I said quietly. We looked at each other for a moment, then he stepped up to me and took me in his arms and we kissed, our naked male bodies touching, his cock against mine, our chests pressed together, his hands caressing my body, his arms pressing me to him, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I gasped and submitted to it, moaning quietly into his mouth, letting him take me, yielding to the extraordinary new sensation of being so bodily intimate with another man. His hands came up to my head and mine went down to his bare hips and we held each other in place as we kissed. And then he let go of my face and I stared up at him, feeling myself falling into those clear green eyes. "Alex," he said, "can I buy you a drink?" "Yes please," I breathed. John smiled. "Then have a shower," he said, "and meet me in the bar this evening for a drink. Say, seven. That'll give you time to think it all over. Okay?" "We're not gonna . . . um . . . now?" I asked. John shook his head firmly. "I want to be sure you really want it," he said. "Anyway, someone might come in. See you later." He smiled, broke free from me and went to put on his clothes. I got under the shower and washed off, feeling bewildered and happy and alarmed and apprehensive. *** I spent the whole of the day in a kind of daze of anticipation, my body remembering the thrill of John taking me in his arms, my lips remembering his kiss, my cock remembering the feel of his . . . and all the while with the dark secret forbidden excitement of knowing what John wanted to do with me. It wasn't like any experience I'd had before. Until now, with one or two exceptions, I had always known what sort of basic encounter was in store. Ever since I'd lost my virginity, I had known what intercourse felt like. But now I found myself not knowing what it was going to feel like -- always assuming that John liked me enough to want to have intercourse with me. Whatever that meant. I realised, after a while, that I was in the unprecedented situation, for me, of being the person who was being pursued. Up until now, I had always been the one trying to persuade a girl to go to bed with me. But now, a guy was trying to persuade me to go to bed with him. I had lunch in a kind of daze, and spent much of siesta time surfing the internet, trying to find out as much information as possible about what exactly gay men did to each other in bed -- not that I hadn't had fantasies about it from time to time, but I had very little idea of the mechanics of it. Then, when I felt I knew enough, I went out to the hotel pharmacy and somewhat shamefacedly bought some heavy-duty condoms and a couple of tubes of lubrication, and one or two other things. I realised, of course, that to do so was potentially hexing my chances of whatever this evening was going to turn into. But I didn't want John to think that I was gauche. I went back to my room and stripped off and shaved once again, then I used one of the things I'd bought in the pharmacist to do something so intimate and embarrassing that I don't really want to go into details. Then, I took a long shower and washed the day's sweat and accumulated sunblock off myself, then when I was finished I dressed in the smartest, simplest clothes I owned and, feeling clean and cleansed and fresh inside and out, I left my room and headed down to the bar. He was in there, sitting at a table, with a glass of chilled white wine in front of him. He rose and smiled warmly and said "Hello, Alex. I'm glad you came." I blushed and smiled at him somewhat sheepishly. "So am I," I said. "You thought about it, then?" "I did. I decided that life is short." "It is. What can I get you?" I asked for a beer. It occurred to me after I'd asked for one that he might think beer was vulgar, but he just nodded approvingly and ordered me a Heineken. "So," he said after my drink had come, "you were saying that nobody had ever called you 'provocative' before." "Nope," I said. "Cute, yes, nice-looking, but not provocative. I'm still not sure what you meant." "Maybe it's just personal to me," he said. "All my life I've preferred men to women. There was just something about you that meant I had to talk to you." "It must be nice to want the same thing your whole life," I said. "It's made things simpler in some ways and very complicated in others," he said. "When I was younger it was much more difficult. You see, Alex, I'm not that much of a fan of, you know, the gay lifestyle. I don't much like dancing or dressing up and I'm not really into the scene. My trouble has always been that, basically, I'm only attracted to straight men." "Ahh," I said, feeling a pang of sympathy. "I can see how that would be difficult." "Yes," he said. "And when I was younger, people were much more straight than they are -- I mean, straight people. One of the best things about growing older is that I've lived to see a time when people who are normally straight are willing to be a little bit more, you know. Adventurous." He smiled. "That's why I came," I admitted. "I'm not totally sure what we're doing here, but basically, are we having a date?" "Yes," he said after the tiniest pause. "I thought so," I said. "Just so I know." "I don't want you to be under any illusions," he said. "I will try to seduce you." He grinned. I blushed. "I don't want you to be under any illusions, either," I said. "Since it's a regular date like any other, I'm not promising anything. We'll just see how the evening goes." "That seems fair," he said. "Shall we get some food?" We went to a restaurant down the beach. It was twilight, and a heavy pink sun was setting behind the mountains across the bay. We ordered fish and seafood and drank cold beer and talked about ourselves; he wasn't too forthcoming with details about what he did for a living but I gathered that he was independently wealthy, partly from inheritances and partly from canny investments. He was charming company, witty and interesting and interested in me and my not very exciting job. He asked me about girls and I told about my sexual history, all of which he listened to with fascination. By the end of the meal I was very happy to be in his company but a little puzzled; he hadn't touched me, or done much to flirt with me beyond looking me in the eyes and smiling a lot, and I was somewhat puzzled as to whether or not it was going well, from his point of view. When he talked about his own sexual experiences I found it intoxicating and heady to be hearing such details from someone I'd only just met. I also found it arousing to imagine him as a younger man, finding his way, meeting partners, having love affairs and brief one-night stands. By then I had had about three beers and was feeling light-headed and daring. By ten o'clock we had finished eating and he got the bill. I insisted on paying my share, which he at first resisted and then allowed. Then he suggested a walk down the beach. We talked about the night and the sea and how beautiful it was, and I told him an anecdote about how I'd once gone skinnydipping with a group of friends and he laughed and told a similar one. Then we stopped and stood gazing out to sea. "I'm a bit surprised," I said. "Why"s that?" "Well . . . we're out here and it's so romantic, and you haven't touched me." "You haven"t touched me either," he pointed out. "I don't know how it works with men," I said. "Same as anyone else," he said, smiling. "But if we were going to kiss, now would be a good time." I turned to face him, looking up at him, and he turned to face me, and he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was a long, deep kiss and he pulled me to himself and I could feel how his cock was hard. I trembled slightly. I had never been intimate with anyone so apparently physically strong before. He'd told me that he'd taken self-defence classes. He pulled out of the kiss and looked at me. I could feel myself melting. "Wow," I gasped. "That's my house," he said, indicating a large beach house with a balcony. "Would you like to come in for a nightcap?" "Yes, please," I said. The Toyboy Experiment Ch. 02 TUESDAY We had lunch on his balcony, the two of us sitting there in shorts and shirts like a father and son on holiday. Then after we'd had a read and a brief snooze in the afternoon heat, he woke me by tapping me on my knee. I opened my eyes and he was leaning over me in his shorts, bare-chested, smiling. "Let's start," he said. I smiled back, nervous, and got up. I followed him into the room, which was cool from a metal fan whirring away on a side-table. He led me into the bedroom. "Okay," he said. "Alex, just take off your clothes and lie on the bed." I obediently undressed, removing my shirt, shorts and briefs, and then I lay down, naked. It was oddly like going to the doctor, except that no doctor had ever asked me to strip naked. I looked up at him, docile and curious and excited. "You probably know a lot about women's bodies," he said. "More than I do, I'm sure, and what I know comes from what I've read or what I've been told, not from personal experience. But I can tell you that the male body has a lot of erogenous zones. You know what they are?" "Yeah," I said. "Places that are easily stimulated." "Exactly," he said. "It varies from person to person, but for pretty much everyone it's the lips . . ." He touched my lips with his finger. "The genitals . . ." He stroked my semi-erect cock and I gave a little gasp. He parted my legs slightly stroked between them and I quivered and sighed. "Then there's the perineum, which I see in your case is unusually sensitive . . ." I nodded, blushing. "Now roll over." I rolled onto my belly and he kneaded my buttocks gently. "And the buttocks," he said. "Mmmm," I agreed. He laughed, and then his fingers brushed the cleft of my buttocks and I gasped again. "Then there's the anus," he said, pushing a finger between my warm buttocks, slightly damp with sweat, and touching my arsehole. I squirmed gently, rubbing my cock into the mattress. "Some people don't feel pleasure from anyone else touching their anus, but clearly you do," he said. "That's rare and valuable. Your anus is obviously a major erogenous zone for you." "Yes," I gasped, wanting him to do more. "There's also another very important one inside your anus," he said, "but before we get to it, we have to make sure that you're clean. Did you use the bathroom after lunch?" "Yes," I said, blushing a little. "I'm very regular." "Good," he said, "but we want to make sure you're really clean, and I think that you're not unfamiliar with how we're going to do it. Put this on and let me do the work." He handed me a cheap, navy blue nylon sleep mask of the kind you can buy in airports. "Why?" I asked. "I want you to start focusing your attention to inside your rectum," he said. "Blindfolding is a good way to do it." "All right," I said and put it on. "Plus," he said, "I like blindfolding naked men and doing naughty things to them." I giggled and blushed. I felt very vulnerable, lying prone and naked on John's bed. "This is going to test your muscular control as well as clean you out," he said. "I'm going to give you an enema." "Ooohh," I sighed. "And when you feel full I want you to hold it in as long as possible. I have a bedpan you can use to empty yourself into but only when I tell you, all right?" "Okay," I said, feeling apprehensive and more than a little embarrassed. "Here's the tube," he said, and he smeared some gel around my anus and then I felt him pushing at me with a piece of something like plastic hosing. "Mmm," I grunted in protest. "Take it," he insisted. "Ohh god," I gasped as I forced myself to relax, and he fed the tube into my rectum. "I'm going to turn it on now," he said. "I'd like you to tell me how it feels so I can gauge how full you are." "Okay," I said, "nothing yet . . . still nothing . . . still nothing . . . ooohhh, there it is . . . ohhhh . . . oh god it's really filling me up, I . . . ohhh, don't know if I can take anymore . . . ohh, John, please, no more, that's enough . . ." "A little bit more," he said. "Please," I begged, "I don't want to mess up your bed, I . . . ahhhh fuck, I . . . ooooh . . . ooooh, oh god, I . . . ooooh! Please!" "Okay," he said and I felt the unbelievable volume of fluid in my bowel stop growing, and the tube was gently removed. The pressure was intense and it was incredibly humiliating. I was shaking with the effort of keeping my anus tightly shut and stopping what felt like about a gallon of now-dirty water from squirting out all over John's clean sheets. "There," he said. "That's about a pint." "That's only a pint?! God, it feels more like a gallon. Ohhhh . . ." "Plenty of women have this every day," he said mildly. "They just call it colonic irrigation." "Just tell me when I can use the bedpan, okay?" I pleaded. "You're doing very well," he said. "I'm very pleased." "Thank you," I said meekly. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it, and I lay on the bed, breathing heavily, sweating and trembling with the effort of keeping my ass closed. I heard nothing for a while and I guessed that he was timing me, and then at last he spoke. "All right, I'll help you up", he said, and lifted me up to my feet and guided me, blindfolded as I still was, to the bedpan and sat me on it. At once I gasped, "Aahhhh!", I gasped, flushing crimson with humiliation as the pint of water squirted from my ass into the pan. When I was empty John wiped me, then he guided me to the bed again and gave me another, smaller enema until he pronounced me entirely clean. He wiped me again and then wiped my ass once more with what felt like baby wipes, then he led me to the bed and had me lie down again, still with the sleep-mask over my eyes. I was sweating and I knew I was red-faced from a combination of humiliation and effort. But then I heard John's soothing voice. "Alex, you're doing wonderfully well. Now comes the reward." I felt him smearing generous quantities of gel over my throbbing anus and I sighed with something like pleasure and relief. Then he rolled me onto my back and lifted my legs in the air and started massaging my anus with his finger. I moaned. "Alex," he said, "when we were fucking last night, there was a moment at the end when it suddenly became more intense, wasn't there?" "Y-yes," I gasped. "That's because my cock touched something inside you," he said. "Your prostate gland. It's very important because it helps create semen." I felt my loosened anus loosening further, and he slipped his middle finger inside me and I felt him feeling around. I whimpered. I was rock hard. I put my fingers around my cock and he gently but decisively removed them with his other hand. I laid my hands flat on the bed, squirming and whimpering as his finger moved around inside my exposed anus. "If you massage the prostate," he said, "sometimes, something very remarkable happens." I felt his hand remove my sleep-mask and I blinked and focused on my naked body and him, still in his shorts, manipulating me. I looked at him in surprise. "This," he said. He touched something inside me, and I couldn't help it -- an uncontrollable orgasm seemed to explode from where he touched me, and I shut my eyes and cried out. "AAAAAUUGHH!", and my body flexed from the waist, pumping my hips forward, and I opened my eyes just in time to see my erect cock shooting thick ropes of semen all the way up my body and splashing over my face. "Mffblllbl!" I spat in surprise -- it was in my eyes and on my forehead and some of it had got in my open mouth. For the umpteenth time that day I went crimson with humiliation, but I had also yet another high-definition surround-sound orgasm at John's command. He pulled his finger deftly out of my anus and left me lying limp and sticky on the bed. "Oh god," I gasped, "I haven't come in my own face since I was seventeen." "I could just keep doing that to you all day, every half an hour or so," he said, grinning, "and I'd make you come every time. Eventually you'd need to eat something, and my hand would get tired, but it's an automatic reflex. Nothing you can do to stop it." He handed me a baby wipe and I wiped the semen from my face and hair. I still had some in my mouth and was trying to get it off my tongue when John said "It's your cum. You may as well swallow it." I giggled, and did so. It tasted a bit like mildly salty, undercooked egg white. He gave me a drink of water and a peach and we sat back, me naked, he still in his shorts, to rehydrate and eat fruit. He pulled out a gay sex manual and flipped through it. Some of the illustrations made my eyes widen. "Are we going to do all that stuff?" I said. "Some of it," he smiled. He came to a picture of the interior structure of the anus and rectum. "So now I know that you have good control of your anal muscle," he said, pointing to the relevant area. "That's very important, because a lot of what you can do to another man is about using that control. When a man is inside you, you can squeeze his cock with that muscle and it maximises the stimulation for him. It's called 'milking'. I'm sure you can see why." I flushed pink and rolled my eyes. "And if you like," he said, "I think that the best way for me to show you why it's so pleasurable is to do it for you." I stared at him. "You want me to fuck you?" I said. "Would that be so awful?" he said in mock sorrow. "No! No. I suppose . . . I've never been tempted." "It's not something I do very often," he said, "but if you're going to know how it should feel. I think it's important." "Okay," I said. John got off the bed, put the manual aside and stripped off, then he got back on the bed and we came together, kissing. Twenty minutes later, he was on all fours and I was kneeling behind him, nervous, about to enter his well-lubricated, loosened anus with my glistening cock. I had already had my finger inside him and was surprised that I'd managed to get hard at all, having already come twice that day. "Okay," John gasped, crouching before me, "now you can start to fuck me." I pushed my cock at John's dark, tight anus and I watched him breathing deeply and making himself relax, and he let out a low sighing moan as I penetrated him. "Oh god," he said quietly. "So good." I started to pump slowly into him, and he moved his hips back and forth, responding to my rhythm. It was tight inside his ass but I found that the sight of his rear end -- tanned, masculine and lean -- didn't turn me on. I closed my eyes and imagined a woman, such as the tall and rather languid blonde girl in her late teens I'd seen on the beach a few days earlier; she had very fair skin and hair that was almost white and she had sat on the beach and read a book and then sunbathed and then stalked into the sea and dived forward and swum by herself for an hour while I had kept an eye on her. It didn't take long for me to get aroused by the thought of the blonde girl being on all fours before me while I fucked her -- and then I felt my cock being expertly squeezed and massaged and, my eyes tight shut and in almost appalled disbelief, I felt myself coming for the third time that day, and John's ass was drawing the cum out of me, as I let myself go inside him and he groaned with pleasure. I pulled out of him carefully and he lay on the bed, prone, and I collapsed next to him. "Be honest," he said, panting, "you weren't thinking of me when you came, were you?" "No," I admitted, breathless. "Were you thinking of a woman?" "Yes." "Hmmm." His red, perspiring face watched me for a moment, then he smiled. "It's only natural. You've always preferred women, after all. Maybe that's something that we can think about. In the meantime, though, I wonder if you don't deserve a little punishment." "Punishment?" I said, blushing and smiling. "Yes," he said. "A little touch of humiliation for thinking of someone else while you're with me." "As long as it's not painful," I said, wondering what on earth he could have in mind. "It won't hurt anything except your dignity," he said. "Let's have a shower." We showered off together. I washed him tenderly, grateful that he'd given me the chance to fuck him; it made me feel like our relationship was a little more equal than it had been. We embraced and kissed in the shower and once again it felt quite natural to let this older man put his arms around me and hold my naked body to his, our cocks touching as the warm water poured over us, me sighing gently as his tongue pushed into my mouth and he reminded me once again that he was the seducer, I the seduced. I spent the rest of the day reading and being rather shamefacedly turned on by gay erotica that he gave me. We went out and had another romantic dinner, but then he went to bed early, saying that he was tired, but promising that the next day would be one that I wouldn't forget in a hurry. I stayed up late reading, a little mystified, but when I went to bed at midnight, easing my naked body between the sheets, he put his arms around me and I slept. WEDNESDAY We woke up and cuddled a bit, but when I went to make a move, John just smiled and got out of bed. "No," he said. "Today's the day for your punishment." "Are you still angry with me?" I asked. "I'm not angry," he said. "I just want to get you onto the same page. Don't worry," he added, kissing me on the lips and smiling. "It'll all work out." After breakfast we went shopping. I was wearing clothes he'd given me to wear; a polo shirt and shorts that displayed my legs. I felt a bit like it was my uniform as a man who was now visibly the partner of another man -- or was it all that visible? I wasn't sure. The town was heaving with tourists and among them were one or two same-sex couples, but if John knew them, he didn't acknowledge them. We got bread and salad and deli food and cold meats and sparkling water and wine, and then we put it all in the back of his car and we drove out of town, along the coastline. "Where are we going?" I asked. He smiled. "You'll see," he said. After half an hour of increasingly twisty roads, we pulled up at a gate and he got me to open it and drove through. Inside, some flat ground was covered with a dozen or so cars. I took the picnic basket out of the boot and John took my hand, openly for the first time in public, and led me down a sandy path through some trees to a beach. It was clearly a private beach, but John behaved as though he had access and the few people who acknowledged him smiled and greeted him in a friendly way -- and glanced at me with a smile too. I smiled back, tentatively, but as we walked to a clear area, I couldn't help noticing that every couple on the beach was same-sex. And of those same-sex couples, one of them was usually naked. My stomach fluttered as I began to get an inkling of what it was John had in mind as 'punishment'. "Here we are," he said, stopping at a bit of sand that had two recliners on it. "You can put the stuff down." I placed the bags on the sand and John reached into one of them and took out a bottle of sunscreen. We'd put some on before we left the house ninety minutes earlier, and we shouldn't have needed much more. "All right, Alex," he said, smiling at me. "Take off all your clothes and lie down." That's when it fully dawned on me. This beach was where John and his friends went when they wanted to display their toys to each other. "All of them," I asked faintly. "All of them," he said firmly. I could see a few of the nearby couples watching us with amusement; a few yards away, a gorgeous young naked guy, lying on his stomach next to a large-bellied man in swimming trunks, was watching me through his long eyelashes, and I thought I saw him give me a wry smile; hey, pal, suck it up, this is what happens. Still, it was one of my basic nightmares, to be naked among a group of complete strangers, and only John's calm authority and the presence of a dozen or naked men and women made it seem natural. I nervously took off my shirt, then my sandals, and folded them, placing them in a bag; then I slid down my shorts and put them away too. The last barrier between me and total exposure was the tight pair of Speedos I'd put on before lunch. Resignedly, and blushing all over, I loosened them and rolled them off my hips, keeping eye contact with John, who smiled unexpectedly as I got naked. He held out his hand and I gave them to him. "As long as we're on this beach," he said, "you won't be needing them," and he stuffed them deep into another bag. Feeling awkward and exposed, I sat on the recliner. "Lie back," said John. "I'll put sunscreen on you." I lay on my back, feeling acutely embarrassed, my cock and balls on display for anyone to see, and I shut my eyes as John gently but firmly massaged sunscreen into my naked body. "All right," he murmured after a few minutes, "now, on your belly." I rolled onto my stomach, feeling slightly more protected, and his strong hands rubbed sunscreen into my back and thighs and bare bottom. He handed me a book and a pair of sunglasses and I read for a while, accustoming myself to sunbathing naked on a beach. "Hello John," said a female voice. I felt myself blushing, and glanced up. Two women were standing nearby, each in light summer dresses, one of them in her mid-40s, they other about ten years younger. "Hello," said John warmly, and he got up and embraced them. "This is my friend Alex," he said, indicating me. They smiled down at me. They were indeed a couple, Janice and Andrea, although they clearly didn't have the same master-toy relationship that John and I had. I lay naked on my stomach and managed to make some small chat, as if I were totally used to hanging out naked with a clothed man old enough to be my dad. Then, to my mortification, John insisted that they hang out and have some lunch, and they accepted. There was nothing for it; I had to sit up and start handing out plates and knives, stark naked as I was. Janice and Andrea behaved as though it were perfectly normal. After a while it even started seeming normal, as we ate the delicious food and drank the cold sparkling water and wine from the cooler. I avoided the wine, wanting to stay sober, but Janice and Andrea had a couple of glasses each and sure enough, the conversation eventually got around to me. "How did you meet?" asked Andrea. She was the younger of the two, a handsome and voluptuous young woman with a bob of black hair and a ready smile. "Yesterday," I admitted, "on the beach. We sort of it hit it off." "John is very disarming," Janice said, patting my bare arm affectionately. "Alex has never been with a man before," said John mischievously, and he smiled as I blushed crimson. "You're very lucky," said Janice. "John is about as good as you can get." "I feel lucky," I said, and John smiled at me, more warmly. "John," added Janice, "is the only man I've ever been to bed with. This was a hundred years ago, before I realised that it wasn't something I really wanted to do. But I have to admit, he almost convinced me." "Convinced you of what?" said Andrea, grinning. "I 'm just saying," Janice said primly, sipping her wine, "he's the only man who's ever managed to persuade me that there's anything useful about a penis." "I can see I'll have to watch you," said Andrea, in mock indignation, and she laughed. "You have nothing to worry about," John said, and stroked my arm. "I'm fully occupied with this one at the moment." "Are you?" said Janice, and glanced at me sidelong. "For someone who's never been with a man before," said John, "he's surprisingly talented at it." "I'm sitting here," I said, smiling despite my burning face, "do you mind?" John laughed and kissed me on the cheek. The Toyboy Experiment Ch. 02 After lunch, Andrea went for a swim -- she was wearing a one-piece swimsuit under her dress -- and Janice had a nap. I went back to reading and John dozed. It all felt incredibly grown-up, and when the sun was beginning to make long shadows and both Janice and Andrea had been reading for a while, John turned to me and said "We'd probably better think about getting back." "Okay," I said. "Have a swim, though," he said. I eyed him, smiling. "Is that an order?" I murmured. He nodded. Flushing once more with exposing my nudity, I got up and walked down to the beach. Plenty of other couples were frolicking away. I made myself walk right in and as soon as I was hip-deep I dived forwards. The water was incredibly refreshing on my naked body. I felt like a healthy young animal as I swam about and ducked under and floated. I had never skinny-dipped before, and certainly hadn't dreamed that when I did, it would be in broad daylight on a crowded beach before the eyes of strangers. After 15 minutes I stood up and saw John waving, and I walked out, shivering. As I walked naked up the beach I got more than one appreciative glance from a total stranger. John came towards me holding a towel and he wrapped me in it and kissed me. "Feel better?" he said. "It's gorgeous," I gasped. "You should try it." "Another time," he said. "Let's go home." He handed me my sandals, shorts and polo shirt and once I was dry I put them on -- not without a small twinge of regret at covering myself up. John hugged Janice and Andrea and they gave me a friendly hug too, and he invited them to dinner at the weekend. I liked the idea; they had been smart, funny, warm and well-read and I'd enjoyed their company. We parted company at the car park and John drove us back to the villa. "How did you like your punishment?" he laughed as we drove. "That was the second strangest thing I've ever done," I giggled. "God. I can't believe I was sunbathing naked for what, three hours?" "You looked absolutely good enough to eat," he said. "I saw the looks you were getting. Still think you prefer girls?" "I can't help whose bums I prefer looking at," I said, and then I turned to him, genuinely contrite. "I'm sorry I was fantasising about a girl," I said. He glanced away from the windscreen at me. "It's fine," he said. "As you said, you can't help it when it's been your habit of a lifetime. I do plan, though, that by the end of this holiday, you'll have a different set of habits." "Oh, do you," I said, grinning. "I do," he said, turning the car into the driveway of his villa. We parked, and I got out and removed the bags from the trunk. I walked up to the front door and he followed me. I waited while he opened the door, and then I walked into the house and headed to the kitchen. In the kitchen, I placed the bags on the table but before I had a chance to open them and start sorting out the dirty containers and put away the leftover food and drink, John grabbed me from behind and his hand snaked inside my shorts and grasped my cock, and I gasped with shock and surprise, and his other hand turned my face and he planted his lips on mine and kissed me, roughly. I made a stifled moan of surprise. "I could hardly keep my hands off you," he gasped, "at the beach, seeing you there naked, knowing they were all looking at you, god, I wanted you so much." I moaned as he ripped open my shorts and pulled up my shirt, uncovering me, bending me forwards. I raised my arms and he pulled my polo shirt off and threw it aside. "I knew they were looking at you," he gasped as he kicked my sandals off. I squirmed as he bent me forwards over the table. "I knew they all were wondering what it would be like to fuck you. To own you. Even Janice and Andrea. I know when they fancy someone, and a bit of them was curious about you." "Oh god . . ." I gasped, my stomach tight with excitement at how John was almost forcibly taking me. His hands yanked down my shorts, uncovering my bare, lightly sunburned arse, and my stiff cock sprang free. I was naked in the kitchen, bent forward over the table. Gasping. The only sounds apart from his voice were our harsh breathing and the sound of the table straining as he pushed me so that my upper body lay face down on it. His fingers scrabbled in the butter dish and he smeared some butter between my warm, damp ass cheeks. "Oh, please . . ." I whimpered, almost wanting him not to, wanting our second time to be as romantic as our first time, but he was implacable. "I knew that the ultimate humiliation for you," he said, pushing his stiff prick between my buttocks, "would have been for me to fuck you there and then, on the beach." "Yes," I moaned. It was true. "You under me," he gasped, his finger working at my ass, and I moaned thickly with panic and arousal. "Ohhhh . . ." I shuddered. "You, the boy who'd only ever been with girls," he said, "naked on your belly underneath me while I put my cock inside your arse and made you squeal, and everyone watching knew that you loved having my cock in you . . ." "Oh god, yes," I sobbed as I felt his cock tip pushing at me. "All the women you could've been with," he whispered in my ear, "watching you submit to me. Watching you be my naked little bitch." "Yes!" "My naked little cock slut," he gasped, easing himself inside me. "AaaAAAUUHHH!" I squealed as I gave in, receiving him, and my legs flailed helplessly as John ruthlessly imposed his will on me, shoving his hips into me, he standing fully-clothed behind me as I sprawled nude on the table, gasping and sobbing as he bum-fucked me with his humbling knowledge of just how to arouse me, just how to make me want him to do this to me. God, he knew my weak spots, all right. My young body strained beneath him and he clamped his hand over my eyes. Being blind sealed my abject humiliation, my utter submission to him, and I came yet again, pumping my cum on the tiled kitchen floor even as he was cumming inside me. "OooOOOOHHHH! Oh FUCK!" I squealed, not even caring how undignified I was, a naked young man squirming on the end of an older man's cock. I milked him as he'd shown me, feeling his warm semen leaking from my anus, and I shuddered and whimpered as I came down from the sudden and utterly unexpected ass-fucking he'd given me. There was a long moment as he stood behind me, holding me, breathing deeply, and then he carefully pulled out of me. I felt my knees giving, and my upper half slid off the table. I sank to the floor and covered my face with my hands, my shoulders shaking. "Oh god," I whimpered. I felt that I had been lovingly but also brutally taught a lesson. And yet, the feel of his cock inside me had once again made pleasure rip through my body. "A good toyboy is always ready," he said softly, his hand on my shoulder. "You must understand, you're always accessible to me. As long as we have this arrangement, I can take you at any time. Do you understand that now?" I nodded my head. I felt him take my wrist and I tottered to my feet. He embraced me and kissed me, and led me off to the showers, where he washed me all over and wrapped me in a bathrobe. I felt more normal after the shower and lay on the sofa checking my emails on my iPad, while he tidied up the kitchen and prepared us some dinner. We ate dinner and watched an old movie on TV. He was very tender and affectionate, and I appreciated it; I was still somewhat unsteady from the unexpectedness of the fucking he'd given me. Afterwards we lay on the sofa, me still in the bathrobe, and talked a bit. "I almost didn't want you to take me, earlier on," I said quietly, as I lay in his arms. "I know," he said. "That was the whole idea. I admit that I really wanted you and wanted to show you what it was like without the usual . . . you know." "It was still amazing," I said, looking up at him. "I can't believe what you can do to me. I've never felt this sexual in my life." "You're very provocative," he said, shrugging and smiling. "It's easy to get someone aroused when they react the way you do." So saying, he loosened the belt of my bathrobe. "Oh no," I said, smiling but half-meaning it. "Oh yes," he said, opening it, revealing my clean body, still pink from the sun. "Oh no," I said, as John got out from under me and freed one of my arms from the robe. I squirmed but he rolled me onto my belly and I felt my breathing quicken, and I knew what he had in mind. "Oh god," I breathed. "You're insatiable." "You need it," he said, touching me between the tops of my thighs. "Ohhh, god," I moaned again as I felt him slipping out of his clothes, and then I was naked on my belly on the sofa and John was tying the towelling belt of my bathrobe over my eyes, and I clutched the fabric and breathed deeply as he pulled on my cock and kissed me and told me how beautiful I was, and then I felt his fingers and smelt the cool gel he was rubbing on my most private place, the location of my absolute submission and ecstasy, and I buried my face in the cushion and moaned as John mounted my hips and eased himself into my ass once more. I turned my head and saw our reflection in the big picture window that looked onto the darkness -- my pale young body squirming and tensing and relaxing under his tanned, lean body. A young man willingly, eagerly, tearfully letting himself be ass-fucked by an older man We fucked, slowly and tenderly, on the sofa for a long time. I had already cum three times that day, but nothing could have made me refuse him; once again, he showed me just how much I craved being buggered by him, feeling him occupy me and split me like a ripe peach, feeling him dominate me and force me to lose myself in the ecstasy of being penetrated by his cock. John held me and I shuddered and whimpered as I came, and he followed after, his cum spreading as a liquid warmth in my ass, before he pulled out of me and rolled me onto my back and lowered himself onto my limp, panting, grateful body and kissed me. We stumbled into bed and I slept in his arms until late the next day. The Toyboy Experiment He took my hand and led me up the beach to the side of the house, and he opened the door and let us in. Ten minutes later, we were on the sofa, our drinks untouched on the coffee table, and John was lying back while I sat on his lap, kissing him. His hands were unbuttoning my shirt and he took it off. I had already kicked off my sandals. I was breathless, urgent, unbuttoning his short too. He reached down and opened my shorts and I got off him and stood up and dropped them. Beneath them, I was wearing white briefs. He guided me onto my back on the sofa and then he looked down at me. I was young, eager, scared, curious, and very horny. I looked up at him, not quite knowing exactly what was coming, but feeling like I was ready for almost anything. "I want to show you something," he said. He reached over to a side table and took an envelope. He took from it a piece of paper and handed it to me. I looked at it. "What's this?" I said, and immediately felt foolish because only a few seconds" scrutiny made it obvious what it was. It had something about tests and results and there was a column on the right hand side, opposite a list of alarming diseases, and they all were marked with the word "NEGATIVE". The date was the previous week and the address was a local health centre. "It"s my latest medical test," he said. "I just wanted you to see it. I don't want you to feel that you've got anything to worry about." "I don't carry mine around with me," I said, "sorry." "You're normally heterosexual?" he said. "Until now, only." "Ever shared a needle?" "Never injected drugs." "Ever had a blood transfusion?" "No." "Good enough for me," he smiled. "There's something else you should know." "What's that," I breathed. He reached down and took the hem of my briefs in his fingers. I was a thin piece of fabric away from losing my modesty. "Not all gay men like penetrative sex," he said, staring down at me. "I know," I said. "I read about it." "Some don't like it at all. They think it demeaning. There are lots and lots of ways that two men can take pleasure in each other's body." "I know," I breathed. "I've read about some of them." He started to peel my briefs down, down my belly, over my hips, ever closer to my genitals . . . "However," he said, "it so happens that I do like penetrative sex. Very much." "Ohh," I gasped, realising exactly what he wanted to do, and feeling my stomach fluttering. "And I prefer," he said, smiling wickedly as he slowly uncovered my swollen cock and balls and the fabric peeled down over my bare bum, "to be the active partner. You know what that means, Alex?" "Yes," I gasped. "Tell me," he said, as my cock sprang free, the tip glistening with pre-cum. "It means that you want to fuck me," I said. "It means that I'm going to fuck you," John said. "Whether you want me to or not." "Ohhh god," I moaned, trembling as I stared up at him, this older, vastly more experienced man who had got me precisely where he wanted me, and who was about to do something to me that nobody had ever done. "Yes," he said, and he whipped my briefs off me, stripping me naked, and then produced a tube of lubrication and leaned down to kiss me while his other hand began to massage lube between the cheeks of my bum. I kissed him back, passionate, opening myself like I'd never done to any previous partner, letting him use me, feeling the forbidden and dark pleasure of submission. I found myself making repeated, soft, high whimpers as he pushed the lube up between my naked buttocks. "I'm going to loosen you," he murmured in my ear, and pressed with his finger on my anus. I squirmed and went "Aaahhh!" as he pushed his fingertip into me. "Why are you doing that?!" "Because if I don't, it will really hurt when I go in for real," he gasped, kissing my face as I bucked and squirmed beneath him. I felt him pushing into me, his finger violating me in a way that nobody had ever done, and the feeling that I normally had during sex with a girl, of just wanting to have that lovely tight wetness (or even tighter slipperiness) enclosing my cock, the feeling of wanting to master her and occupy her, was gone; instead there was a mad hunger to be occupied, to be filled, to be mastered. It was delicious and poignant and there was something else there, too, as John prepared me to be the passive partner -- a kind of sharp pang of humiliation, of losing my usual male pride, of becoming a sissy; of letting John make me into his bitch. I felt my anus getting a little looser and I pushed my hips down on his hand, and I was glad that I'd given myself an enema on myself earlier in the evening, before my shower, using the kit that I"d bought in the pharmacy. "God, Alex," he muttered, "I've got to have you, the thing about you that's provocative . . ." "Y-yes?" I whimpered. "It's your bum," he said. "Ever since I first saw you on the beach I've fantasised what I'm about to do to you. Your bum is the sexiest bum I have ever seen." "Oooh!" I moaned, and then to my shock and increasing nervousness he pulled his hand out of me, got off the sofa and quickly peeled his clothes off—all this while, he'd been fully dressed. Then, as I lay spread out and naked beneath him, completely exposed and vulnerable, he rolled me onto my belly and I went "OoooOOHHH!" as I felt him mounting my hips, and the thick bulb of his cock sliding easily between my slippery buttocks, and there were only a few seconds left in which I could say that I still had my anal virginity, and I opened my eyes wide in shock as he pushed, and it hurt, and I shut my eyes and went "UuuuuNNHH! Ohh JoooHHNN! Oh FUCK!" as he went in . . . And then my breath shot out of me and I went "AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaannnhhhh!" as I felt the head of his cock slip into my anus and the muscle closed around him, and then there was just the thick invading force of the warm pole of muscle thrusting up into me, and I lolled, stunned with the sweet, satisfying force of it, as John began to bugger me. I sprawled face down on the sofa, an abject male slut, moaning as he took me, my body easing back and forth with his rhythm, pushing my hips back and down on his cock as he pushed in and moving them forwards as he pulled out, the friction of the sofa on my cock and the fullness of his penis in my arse making me rock hard. It was the most animal sex I had ever had. I had never felt so purely flesh. I gave in completely to his desire to master me, to make me his bitch. My blood surged through me and my cock ached beneath me. He reached under me and pulled on my cock, and reached up and caressed my face. I shut my eyes and deliriously sucked on his fingers as John butt-fucked me, my lithe, sunburned young naked body squirming on the sofa underneath him, moans and whimpers being pumped from my mouth as I gave in to the experience. It was violent, too; the most violent sex I had ever experienced. To feel his weight pressing me down, his body actually invading mine, was to feel that I'd been overpowered by a stronger, more dominant animal. I heard rhythmic, guttural moans and realised that I was making them myself. I sounded like an animal being brutalised, or a man being methodically and comprehensively beaten up. His arms were around me, his legs tangled in mine, his strong body pushing and flexing steadily and rhythmically and mine passive, prone, giving with each pump and obediently opening up to let him into me, as far as he could go. I had a brief moment of insight; I had come on this holiday to have some uncomplicated sex with strange women, and here I was after a week, face down and stark naked on some stranger's sofa while an older man fucked me up my arse and reduced me to his whimpering toyboy. So much for my heterosexual pride. Then his cock touched something inside me and a huge orgasm exploded through me with such force that I wept shocked tears and cried "AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH!", a howl of delirious abandon, and I felt my cock spurting semen in his tight fist, as he came, gasping, deep inside my rectum. And then it was over, and it was me lying beneath him and hauling in deep breaths and weeping a little, while he sank on top of me, holding me tight, nuzzling me gently, and kissing the back of my neck softly. I may have dozed off for a moment because I opened my eyes to find my face wet with tears and the sofa beneath me sticky with my own cum. He was still on top of me, his softened cock still inside me, and he lifted his head and said quietly "Are you okay, Alex?" "That was . . . that was the most amazing sex I've ever had," I whimpered. "Oh my god." "I'm so glad," he said, and he hugged me. I felt him pulling out of me and gave a little whimper of protest as he did so, but then he got off me and sat up, looking down at me still lying prone and naked on the sofa. "I had a feeling you'd like it like that," he said. "Hard rather than soft." "I can't believe I let you do that," I sighed, "but . . . god, it was amazing." "I think we'd better get you to bed," he said. "I'm sorry about your sofa," I said, rolling on to one side and blushing with shame as I saw the mess I'd made of the throw. "It's okay," he grinned. "I'll put it in the wash. Come on, young man. You need bed." He stood up and held out his hand. I sat up gingerly and got to my feet. He smiled at me. Impulsively I put my arms around his neck and kissed him, and he hugged me. Then I let go and rested my head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling him fondly. "If you liked it that much," he said, "perhaps...you'd like to do it again?" "God, yeah," I said, grinning up at him. "But I don't think I could do it again right now." "I don't mean that," he said. "I mean, perhaps you'd like to stay for a couple of days? I could, um...show you some of the other ways to do it." "I"d love that," I said simply. "Then I'll be very happy to have you as my guest," he said. "Come on, I'll show you the facilities." We left our clothes on the living room floor and he showed me around the house. I couldn't help grinning at the strangeness of it; two naked men, one twice the age of the other, walking around a house as if the one were showing it to the other one as part of a real estate deal. Finally, he directed me to the bathroom for a shower and went to the kitchen to get us water. The house was air-conditioned and beautifully cool. I had a welcome shower in which I washed off the secretions on my body, then I dried myself and slipped along the corridor to the bedroom. He wasn't there. I slipped under the sheet of the kingsize bed and lay back, reflecting on the unexpected turn in my luck; that morning I had been a lonely straight guy trying and failing to score with women, and this evening I was a young man apparently entering on a fling with an older man. It went against most of the things I'd thought about myself. And yet, I liked him, I found him charming and I couldn't deny that he had just almost literally fucked my brains out. If he found me attractive, that was enough for now. He entered the room, carrying a tray with a jug of iced water and two glasses. He poured one for me. He was wearing a towelling bathrobe, which he took off, revealing once more his lean, tanned body; he had no tan lines, suggesting that he knew a place to sunbathe nude. We drank, looking at each other, and then he turned the light out and we lay down. I curled into him and he held me. "Thank you," I whispered. "For what?" he said. "Thank you for having me," I said with a grin, remembering the old phrase I was taught to say when saying goodbye to someone I'd visited. He obviously knew it too, for he laughed quietly. "I've always liked the old Greek tradition," he said, "in which an older man would take a younger man for his lover." "I think they were both a little younger than we are," I said. "You should be in your forties and I should be about 16." "You know the classics?" "I did them in college." "Clever as well as cute," he said and his arm around me squeezed slightly. "You can still be the older one," I said. "You could teach me a lot." "Oh, I intend to," he said. "The teaching experience is an essentially erotic one." "Especially if it involves a lot of sex," I said. "Don't be impertinent," he said. "Or you'll be punished." "Ooh, really?" I said, grinning in the dark. He was silent for a moment. "You like punishment?" he said quietly. "I think we've established that I like . . . something like that. You knew exactly what I needed and you gave it to me." "Well . . . " he said, "if you're really interested in that kind of thing, perhaps we could come to . . . some kind of arrangement." "You mean . . . " "I mean," he said softly, "if you really want, you could be my slave. I have some experience in that line of thing." I thought about this. "Maybe we could just try me staying here for a while," I said. "I'm new to this." "Of course," he said. "Get some sleep." At some point, I drifted off and I don't remember my dreams. TUESDAY I woke up alone and naked in the bed, and for a moment I didn't remember where I was. Then it came back. I had been invited on a date by a guy older than my father. I had accepted. We had had a meal, gone for a walk, and kissed. Then he had taken me to his house and stripped me naked and fucked me until I barely knew my own name. I blushed crimson with the memory of it, and John chose that moment to enter the room with a tray carrying orange juice, coffee and toast. He was wearing his bathrobe. "Hello," he said with perfect ease, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, to walk in on a naked younger man in your bed with breakfast for two. He pulled up the fly screen and opened the shutters, and sunlight streamed into the room. "Hi," I said. "Sleep well?" "Very well, thanks," I said. He put the tray on a trestle across the bed and got onto the bed, then pulled it up. I sat up, careful to keep myself covered below the waist. "I hope you like coffee," he said, "I haven't got any tea." "Great," I said. I let him pour me some. I felt unaccountably shy. He sipped his coffee and turned to me and his expression was frank and slightly amused. "Alex," he said, "I had a wonderful time last night and I think you did too. But I understand if you're having second thoughts. It's your first time with a guy. If you just want to go, that's okay. I won't be offended." "Thank you," I said softly, surprised at how well he knew what I was thinking. "But," he said delicately, "if you do want to go, maybe you should. There's nothing worse than the awkward breakfast the next day." I sat in the bed, aware that there was only a sheet between me and him. I thought about what he had done to me the night before, and how it had felt, and how there really wasn't anything he could reduce me to that he hadn't already. I had let him strip me, roll me over and fuck me senseless. I had wept and cum in front of him -- he'd made me do both. It was warm under the sheet. I kicked it down my legs so that I was sitting naked on the bed next to him, exposed. I smiled at him. "I'd like to stay," I said. He beamed. "Good," he said. We ate breakfast and then had a long lie-in, with him next to me in his bathrobe and me naked beside him, listening as he told me more stories. It was another very hot day. We lay in the heat, and he said "Tell me your sexual fantasies." "What kind?" "The stranger the better," he said. I thought for a while. He was lying behind me, dressed in his bathrobe, spooning me; his hand was on my naked hip. "I used to have this fantasy," I said. "We had this book about wildlife and it had lots of pictures of animals in and some of them were extinct. One of them was a kind of prehistoric lobster or prawn thing, anyway it was a crustacean, and it was about twelve feet long, I think. Anyway it was huge. And I had this fantasy, I remember," I said, laughing, "that I wrote it down . . . I had this fantasy that I was walking on the beach with this girl I knew who I fancied, and this lobster thing suddenly crawled out of the sea . . ." "And it grabbed your girlfriend and ravished her?" he said drily. "No," I said. "It grabbed me and stripped my clothes off and ravished me." "Goodness," he said. "Unexpected. Very kinky. Why was that arousing?" "I'm not sure," I said. "Something to do with idea of being taken by an unstoppable force, something impersonal, that didn't care what I wanted." His hand reached around me and touched my cock. "You find that arousing?" he said. "Yes," I said. And I gave a little gasp, as he took my cock in his hand and began to slowly but rhythmically pull on it. "So that your girfriend would see you being held down and raped by this huge insect?" "Y-yes," I gasped as I began to get hard. "She'd see you being forcibly aroused by this mindless creature, holding your naked body down and violating you. And you'd be aroused by it even while you were terrified and couldn't do anything about it." "Yes," I moaned, squirming gently. "How would it end?" he said. He was opening his bathrobe, and I could feel his naked body behind mine, his cock lodged between my buttocks, his chest against my back. "I . . . I didn't really think about the ending," I said breathlessly. "I'm sure you did," he said. "I'm sure there was at least one version with a rather nasty ending." "Yes," I said, my throat tightening. "I'm sure that you had one version in which the creature . . . did something else to you." His cock was between the tops of my thighs, lodged there, and his other hand came around my head and closed over my eyes. I gasped "Aaaahhh! Yes!" "Tell me what it did," he said, his hand pumping on my erect cock. "It's embarrassing," I gasped. "It's truthful," he said. "Ohhh . . . " I gasped, as he pumped me, his fist expertly pulling on me, his cock lodged so close to my most intimate place -- he could even arouse me this much without having full sex with me -- and his hand over my eyes forced me back into the humiliating memory of my fantasy. "Oooh god . . . it . . . " "Yes?" he said quietly but forcefully. "It . . . first it raped me . . . " I breathed, feeling my orgasm build. "Yes?" he said. "Then it . . . oooh god . . . it ate me," I moaned, and I couldn't hold on any longer and I felt myself starting to cum. He quickly got out from behind me and directed my cock so that my cum spurted in an arc and landed on my chest, and then with a couple of quick strokes he had made himself cum too -- right into my eyes. I blinked and gasped as his semen splashed over my face and I moaned with pleasure at how he had broken me once again, reduced me to just meat. I lay there, cum dripping off my eyes, breathing heavily, remembering the dark pleasure of imagining the insect's total use of me, astonished that he'd got me to tell him about it. "While you're with me," he said, "I am responsible for your pleasure. You aren't. The only thing you're responsible for is my pleasure, and you look after that by letting me do anything I want to you." I nodded dumbly, my eyes shut. Then I felt him wiping my eyes with some kind of scented wipe, and I blinked and looked up at him. "Anything you want?" I said softly. "Short of harm, of course," he said. "Okay," I said, nodding. "How about a shower?" he said with a wry smile, and I got off the bed and we headed for the bathroom. We showered together. I accepted my position as the submissive partner by washing him first. When he was clean, he looked me up and down and said with a wryly cocked eyebrow, "May I suggest something?" "What?" I said. "I think you'd get a lot more pleasure if you shaved yourself." The Toyboy Experiment "What," I said, "my body hair?" I looked down my body. I'm not that hairy -- just a little dark hair on my chest and legs, plus of course my pubic hair. "Skin on skin is much more sensual," he said. "I'd be happy to help." I thought for a moment. I was already involved with John, for better or for worse, and even if we broke up before the end of the holiday, I figured that my chances of getting together with anyone else could hardly be hurt by my having a smooth Hollywood chest. "Okay then," I said cheerfully. He took a can of shaving foam and lathered me all over from the neck down, except for my arms. "Nobody minds arm fuzz," he said, grinning, "except drag queens." Then we set to work, me shaving my own chest and belly and him shaving the sparse hairs on my back and buttocks, which made me giggle, and my legs. Then when those bits were done, he made me sit on the edge of the bath and he carefully shaved my genitals. When we were done, I felt incredibly cool and smooth as I stood before the mirror and shaved my own face; he sat naked on the edge of the bath watching me, in an intimate, domestic replay of the moment yesterday when he'd first approached me in the public shower. "So you really liked the sex?" he said. I blushed and smiled. "Yes," I admitted. "I loved it. I don't think I've ever been that aroused before. And when I came . . . oh god. I thought I was going to faint." "Interesting," he said. "Most guys aren't that crazy about being on the receiving end. I've known a few who are, but you seem to really take to it." "I adore it," I said simply. I rinsed my razor and splashed water on my face to wash off the remaining traces of foam. "Maybe you'd like to help me with something," he said. "Sure," I said, "what?" "I've been wondering, he said, and then gave a rather embarrassed laugh, "it's a silly idea, maybe, but for a long time now I've been wondering if it's possible to train someone to be the perfect . . . um . . . receiver, shall we say, of, of . . . cock. That is, I was wondering if it's possible to take someone who likes it and train him to be supremely good at it. There are a lot of techniques I could show you that would afford the maximum pleasure both to you and to whoever's fucking you." "To be honest," I admitted, heading for the shower, "I seriously doubt that after this holiday, I'm ever going to allow another guy to do to me what you do. I love it when you do it. I don't think I want anyone else to do it." "That's a shame," he said as I turned on the water and got beneath it, "because I could make it so that you loved it when everyone did it. And that anyone who did it to you loved doing it." I viewed him curiously, as I stood beneath the water streaming over my shaven, naked body, blinking it out of my eyes, washing myself off, wondering what exactly this man had in mind for me, wondering what exactly I was doing here, I who had always preferred going to bed with girls, preferred women's bodies with their sweet softness and curves and crevices and succulent mysteries to men's bodies with their force and angles and muscles. I could make it so that you loved it when everyone did it, he'd said. And that anyone who did it to you loved doing it. He was proposing to make into a completely different kind of sexual virtuoso to the one that I had always aspired to be. Instead of being a master of bringing a girl to orgasm at the exact moment that I myself was having one -- which is something that I'd never been terribly good at, to be honest -- he was suggesting that I become expert in controlling men's orgasms and my own in particular. It would be a hell of a lifestyle change, I thought. But after all, it wasn't as if I had to give up women. I just meant that if I ever again met a guy who I felt something for, I could be sure of being able to offer him a good time. "How long would it take," I asked timidly, "and what would I have to do?" "A few days," he said, "and you wouldn't have to do much beyond lie back and let me bugger you. A lot." I laughed and reached for the shampoo. "Okay," I said, blushing at the thought, but excited and nervous too. "Make me into your perfect toyboy."