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On Loving Men Ch. 01

By: bjmichaels



"Do you want the job or not—stop wasting my time—I have ten other boys I can interview—do you want the job?"

I stood there speechless; stunned. I couldn't believe my ears. His words reverberated through my mind. It was the most bizarre description of job duties I'd ever heard.

The older man had just said: "The job is dishwasher. You'll wash all dishes and pots and pans and then mop the kitchen floor. In addition to your pay, you'll receive two free meals every day. Now, when I inspect your work, if I am dissatisfied in any way, I will take corrective measures. You will be required to submit to a spanking. I will bring you here, to my office; you will undress then lie across my lap. I will spank you with either my hand, or a leather belt. I will spank you hard and long--you will not make the same mistake twice. If during the course of the spanking you cause me to have an erection, you will use your hands to bring me relief. Do you want the job or not?"

I searched his eyes for some sign that he was joking with me—I saw nothing but his cold, brown eyes burning a hole through me.

In the past five days I had been to over twenty businesses in the area. No one was hiring. I knew the economy was bad, but I didn't think it was this bad. The money my mother had given me was running out. I had to have an income, and this was the only job that was offered me. 

"If you think about reporting me to anyone remember this: I have been a well-respected business owner here for thirty years. Who would the authorities believe? Me, or a wet-behind-the-ears punk kid? This might be your only opportunity for work in this job market. What will it be? Do you want the job or not?"

He was right. I was eighteen with no talent or skills. If I turned this down, I could very easily end up sleeping in my car. The pay was minimum wage, but two meals a day was extremely important. Besides, I'm a good worker, if I do my job, he wouldn't have a reason to spank me.

"Okay—yeah, I want the job."

"And you accept the conditions I told you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You'll begin today at three—come in at 2:30 and you can eat before you start work."

He didn't offer to shake hands so I left and walked home.

I thought about my mother and how hard she struggled to keep me and my younger sisters clothed and fed. My father had worked for the electric company and was killed while working on a power pole. My mother received a small lump sum payment and she had a good job so our family didn't suffer. But when she got laid-off from work our lives changed dramatically.

She was forced to do menial, part-time work to keep us going, and most of the time that wasn't enough. Then I began to notice that strange men would come to the house and they would disappear into her bedroom for awhile. I suspected what they were doing, but my sisters were too young to understand. 

Through it all my mother remained positive and always had a smile on her face although I saw her once crying in her room. I asked her what was wrong and her face immediately brightened and she smiled and said, "Nothing, sweetie—I just miss your dad."

When I graduated from high school she came to me and said it was time I found a job and move out of the house; she couldn't afford me living there anymore. It was the second time I saw her break down and cry.

"Sweetie," she said as I was preparing to leave the house for good, "it's a tough world out there and you're going to have to do things you may not want to, but you have to survive. Do you understand me? Do whatever you have to do to survive!"

I assured her I would I do my very best.

The restaurant wasn't very busy when I showed up for work. I went to the counter and a waitress in her forties asked if she could help me.

"Ah, hi, my name is John—I'm the new dishwasher—I'm supposed to start work today."

Her eyes looked me up and down then a wry smile spread across her thin lips.

"Oh my," she said. "You are a pretty one, aren't you? I gotta admit The Old Man still has good taste in his boys."

I followed her to the kitchen wondering about her comment. She introduced me to a cook and his first reaction was to smile, too. He prepared a plate of food for me and directed me to a small break room and told me to eat in there.

I was hungry and the food was delicious. I hadn't eaten anything but ramen noodles for a week. 

When I was finished eating the cook introduced me to the daytime dishwasher, Bob. He found me an apron and showed me what my duties were. I was grateful he stayed an extra hour to teach me.

I caught on quickly, it wasn't exactly rocket science. I finished up the last of the lunchtime dishes and pots and pans and then the dinner rush began. The dishes and glasses and silverware began stacking up, but I did my best to keep up and made sure everything was sparkling clean.

At 7 o'clock the cook handed me a plate with my dinner. The food was excellent again. I began to feel good about taking this job.

Everything began piling up again. Sometimes it felt like I was fighting a losing battle but I managed to keep up. Then the cooks brought me the pots and pans; they were grimy with burnt food stuck to the insides. I had to use all my strength to get them clean. I was falling behind.

"John," the head cook said, "The Old Man doesn't pay overtime so if you're here past eleven you're working on your own time."

I thanked him for the info and told him I'd get faster as I learned the job. It was half-past eleven when I finally finished mopping the floors. I double-checked my work and didn't find any mistakes. I felt good about my first day on the job.

The Old Man inspected my work. He made approving comments then he examined one of the large pots. 

I heard him click his tongue and he said, "Uh-oh".

He motioned me over and I looked into the pot: sure enough, there was burnt food still stuck to the bottom. My heart sank and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight as he watched me clean the pot.

When I was done he said, "Follow me."

As I walked behind him I felt like a kid going to the principal's office after getting caught misbehaving in school. I began to tremble.

He sat on his leather couch as I stood before him.

"You did a pretty good job for your first day, but you missed that pot—you made a mistake—what did we agree to this morning if you made a mistake?"

"Ah, I...that I would get a spanking if I made a mistake, sir."

"Do you agree that you deserve a spanking?"

"Y-yes, sir—I deserve to be spanked," I said. I thought total honesty might impress him and he wouldn't spank me too hard.

"What must you do now?" he asked.

I was confused, but finally said, "I have to take off my clothes."

"Very good," he said. "What are you waiting for?"

My face flushed and remained beet-red as I stripped in front of him. When I was naked he had me stand directly in front of him close to his knees. He instructed me to clasp my hands behind my neck and spread my legs apart. I was acutely aware of him ogling my body and specifically my dangling penis and scrotum.

He cupped my balls in his hand; I thought I would die from shame. He squeezed my balls until I winced in pain. He chuckled. 

"Boy," he said. "One thing I didn't tell you was you have a choice. You will either accept a spanking, or you can choose to bend over for me and take my penis in your bottom. If you choose to bend over, I won't spank you and on paydays, I will give you an extra twenty dollars in cash. Now tell me, do you want me to spank you, or do you want to bend over and take my penis in your bottom?"

What kind of a choice is that? I asked myself. This is unreal. How does this dirty old man get away with this?

"Answer me, boy. What do you want?"

"I want you to spank me, sir."

He smiled and had me lie across his lap. I was scared—I had never received a spanking in my life.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw his hand raised above his head then I heard a whoosh of air when he brought it down hard on my bottom.

SMACK...

That wasn't so bad, I thought. He was old and would probably tire easily.

SMACK...SMACK...SMACK...SMACK...SMACK...SMACK...SMACK....

Tears formed in my eyes but I was determined not to cry. The spanking went on for a long time. I could feel my bottom-cheeks burning. 

Suddenly I felt something press against my belly. I knew what it was—he had an erection. I shuddered at the thought of what was coming next.

The spanking stopped. He stroked my bottom-cheeks. I squirmed under his touch; my cheeks were on fire and his hand made it worse.

Suddenly I felt an oily substance on my bottom and he massaged it onto my burning flesh. 

"This will help ease the pain and heal your skin," he explained.

He poured more oil on my cheeks. Then I felt an oily finger slip between my crack and begin to rub my anus. He applied more oil and massaged my anus and perineum. I couldn't help myself—my penis became stiff. 

I heard him softly laugh. His fingertip pushed at my opening and it entered my asshole. I wriggled my hips trying to escape the intruding finger but he held me still. He applied more oil and slowly pushed his entire finger inside me until I felt the palm of his hand on my cheeks.

"Relax," he said. "Loosen yourself and it won't hurt."

He was still for a moment then withdrew his finger to the tip then pushed it inside me again. He began to finger-fuck me. It was the most incredible sensation I'd ever felt. My hard penis had a mind of its own and began to throb.

He suddenly removed his finger and made me stand before him again. I was red with shame and humiliation as I stood in front of him with a raging boner. He took it in his hand and stroked it a few times. I don't know why I didn't protest.

He removed his hand and opened his slacks and pulled them down to his knees along with his boxers. His erection sprang into view. It was the first hard penis I'd seen outside of my own. 

He saw me staring at it and asked, "Do you like it?"

Once again my face flushed a deep scarlet color. 

"What hand do you use to masturbate with?" he asked.

I was speechless. Here was this strange, old man asking me a deeply private question.

"I, ah..." I stammered.

"SPEAK UP, BOY!!"

"Ah, my left hand," I said.

He had me sit on the edge of the couch to his right. He told me to hold out my hands and he poured oil on them and I rubbed the oil into my hands. He took my left hand and placed it around his erection. His penis was six inches long but slender, my small hand fit easily around it.

"Hold my balls in your other hand," he instructed.

His ball sac was heavy. He told me to rub his balls and stroke his penis. My hand moved quickly trying to get it over with, but he told me to slow down.

"I'll tell you when to go faster," he said then added, "and look at it while you jerk me off."

I was both horrified and fascinated at what I was doing. His penis was hot and smooth in my hand. I felt his veins and small bumps as I squeezed it tighter. I settled into a steady rhythm, and stared at his cock. My own erection began to throb again; much to my dismay, I was getting excited at the feel of a man's penis in my hand.

He sat back as I stroked his cock and massaged his balls. I began hoping he'd touch me. I wanted him to masturbate me while I did him. All the while I stared at his cock.

"GO FASTER," he commanded. 

My hand became a blur on his cock. I found myself excited at the prospect of watching a grown mans penis shoot cum.

I felt his balls contract in my hand and I squeezed his cock tighter and stroked it faster. Suddenly he cried out and I was mesmerized by the sight of semen gushing from his slit. I kept stroking him and his cock continued to explode cum. 

By the time he pushed my hand away I was sweating and breathing hard. I felt an odd sense of satisfaction at making him cum.

"That was pretty good, boy—you must have done this before."

I blushed. "No, no I never did this before."

He laughed at my discomfort then said, "Go get a warm wash cloth and clean up this mess."

I walked naked to the bathroom extremely conscious of my erection bobbing in front of me. 

As I cleaned up his semen he put his arm around me.

"You're a beautiful boy--I think we'll get along just fine."

I was blushing the whole time I dressed. I was ashamed and confused that I had begun to enjoy the feeling of his hard cock in my hand. 

Before I left he said, "When you masturbate tonight—and you will—think of my penis—imagine the feel of my cock in your hand."

I was in a daze the entire walk home. I wondered what kind of guy I was that I had liked beating-off an old man; that I had enjoyed stroking his hard cock. 

Am I queer? I'd never ever thought about cocks before, but now all I could think about was the sight and feel of his six-inch hard cock. 

When I went to bed I was determined not to masturbate. I tossed and turned and couldn't fall asleep. Finally I said, "To hell with it" and stroked myself to the most explosive orgasm of my life while picturing his hard, six-inch cock. 

I dunno, I thought, maybe I am queer.

In the morning I looked at my butt in the mirror—it was glowing red. I was determined to be very careful at work. I would not give him any reason to spank me again.

When I went to work and the cook handed me my food he said, "Go sit in the break room—if you can sit, that is." And he laughed.

I blushed. It became clear to me that my co-workers were fully aware of the relationship between The Old Man and the night dishwasher. I tried not to think about it. Lunch and dinner were very good. It felt great to have a full stomach two days in a row.

My heart pounded as he inspected my work. I was positive he wouldn't find anything wrong. When I saw the dour look on his face and he motioned to me my face went white and the hair on my neck stood out.

"You missed this area with the mop. Clean it up then come to my office."

I was overwhelmed with foreboding. He was right: I had skipped a small area—it was a stupid mistake and I cursed myself for it.

He was sitting on the couch wearing only his boxers. A sense of utter helplessness flooded over me.

"You know what to do," he said.

I stripped naked before him and stood with my hands clasped behind my neck. He fondled my private parts again. He rolled my balls in his fingers. I was glad my penis didn't respond.

"Since the spanking last night obviously didn't correct your mistakes, from now on I'll have to use the belt on you," he stated flatly. "Go take the belt off the wall and bring it to me."

I saw where he was pointing. When I lifted the belt off the hook on the wall the weight of it surprised. It didn't look like any belt that someone could wear; it was at least four-inches wide—it scared the hell out of me. 

This was really going to hurt, I thought.

"Do you want me to spank you?" he asked, "or do you want to bend over and take my hard cock in your ass?"

"I want you to spank me, sir," I said softly.

"If that's your choice—get over here."

To say that the spanking was painful would be a huge understatement. After just four whacks of the belt I began to quietly sob. By the time he was finished I was crying loudly with a river of tears flowing down my face. It was, by far, the most painful experience of my life.

I continued crying as he applied oil to my bottom and gently stroked my cheeks. When he oiled my anus and pushed his finger inside me I gasped for air. He finger-fucked my asshole until my penis betrayed me and became erect.

My bottom recoiled in pain when I tried to sit beside him. I had to kneel on the floor to masturbate him. I watched myself caress his penis and balls. Once again I found myself fascinated with his cock. The heat from his penis seemed to shoot through my hand directly to my crotch. 

I was kneeling so close to him that when his balls erupted and his cock spewed shot-after-shot of cum some of it landed on my chest and belly. Once again I stroked him until he pushed my hand away. I was breathing hard and perspiring; my cock throbbed and begged for release. I felt totally degraded by my reaction.

He stroked my face and hair then said: "You know, boy, if you make another mistake tomorrow—I don't think your bottom could take another belt-whipping. You may want to consider the alternative."

And with that he told me to clean-up and get dressed. It was difficult to even walk home. Every stride brought a painful reminder of my blistered bottom-cheeks. There was nothing I could do or say to anyone to change my circumstances. I had never felt so alone in my life.

I had to masturbate lying on my side. I closed my eyes and pictured his cock as I pumped my shaft. I had another exquisite orgasm.

I had to sleep on my stomach. The next day I couldn't sit down. My cheeks were one big mass of purplish-black bruises. I was terrified of going to work and making another mistake. I began to consider the other option. How bad could it be? I wondered.

My co-workers laughed when they saw me eat my food standing. Once again I thought I did my job perfectly. Everything was clean and spotless. When he found a speck of dirt in the garbage can and told me to clean it then come to his office tears welled in my eyes.

It finally occurred to me that he would find a mistake every night. I finally understood what this was all about, and what he wanted from me. I had a decision to make: I could meekly go to his office and surrender to him, or I could leave without getting paid, and be out on the streets looking for another job.

He was sitting on the couch in his boxers. I stripped naked and stood before him. He fondled my penis and balls.

"Do you want me to belt-whip you, or do you want to bend over and take my hard cock in your bottom?" he asked.

I took a deep breath and replied: "I want to bend over and take your hard cock in my bottom, sir."

His face remained impassive. "Tell me you want me to fuck you in the ass."

"I want you to fuck me in the ass," I said softly while looking at the floor.

"Look me in the eyes and say it again! I want to be sure it's what you want."

I was petrified. I stared into his cold, brown eyes and repeated: "I want you to fuck me in the ass, sir," I gulped, "please fuck me in the ass."

A small victory smile crept across his lips.

"Good boy," he said, "I have a feeling you might like this as much as I will."

I blushed then followed his instructions. I bent over and placed my hands on the couch then spread my legs wide apart. I immediately felt his hands on my sore flesh. 

He poured oil on my bottom and worked it over the bruised and battered skin. I felt his finger at my anus. He applied oil until his finger was inside me to the hilt. He finger-fucked me a long time until he was satisfied my passage was well-oiled and ready for his penis.

"Reach back and show me how much you want it, boy," he said. "Take hold of my cock and put it inside you."

I reached between my legs and found his hardness. I guided it to my hole and felt the mushroom-sized cockhead press against my anus. I pushed my hips backwards until his cockhead was inside me. I waited to get accustomed to his size; I relaxed my sphincter then thrust my hips back against him impaling myself on his cock.

I could feel every inch of his cock inside me. I fought to keep my asshole relaxed. I felt full—felt like I needed a bowel movement. My penis stiffened when he grabbed the side of my hips and began to slowly fuck me.

He pushed my hips forward until just the tip of his cock was inside me then he pulled me back hard impaling me over-and-over again. One time he thrust so hard he bumped my prostate and I screamed out in pleasure.

"I knew you'd like it, boy..."

I did like it—okay, I LOVED IT!! I LOVEDTHE FEEL OF A MAN'S COCK FUCKING MY ASSHOLE!!!


On Loving Men Ch. 01



Animal-like noises escaped my throat as he thrust into me harder-and-harder. There was no pain—only sweet, indescribably delicious pleasure. I felt every nuance of his cock on the walls of my asshole. I groaned and babbled incoherently as the cum churned inside my balls. I pushed back hard against him reveling in the heat from his cock.

A steady moan came from deep within him. He fucked me hard with long jerking strokes: I knew he was getting close. His hips began to buck wildly as his cock expanded inside me. He screamed then I felt his scalding cum fill my asshole. I cried out when my own balls exploded and my cum shot out of my cock falling everywhere around us. 

His limp prick slipped out of my asshole with a pop. His cum dribbled out of my hole and down my thighs. He told me to sit on the toilet and clean myself out. 

His cum oozed from my hole into the toilet bowl. My degradation was complete—I begged a man to fuck me and I loved it. I even had an orgasm without being touched. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. All I knew was that it was a helluva lot better to be fucked than spanked. 

That was the night I became convinced I was queer.

The next night The Old Man didn't even go through the pretense of inspecting my work. He just told me to come to his office when I was done. 

He was naked when I got there. I stroked his thighs and cock and balls to get him hard. He loved it when I begged him to fuck me. His cock became super-hard when he heard my words. I orgasmed every time we fucked. 

I worked six days a week. The restaurant was closed on Sundays. After he fucked me on Saturday night he gave me my paycheck and the extra twenty dollar bill. I was thrilled.

"You know, boy," he said. "You can earn an extra sixty dollars a week if you do something else for me."

I knew what he had on his mind but I wanted to hear him say it.

"If you want to suck my cock every day I'll give you an extra sixty a week," he said. He studied my reaction.

"I, ah...maybe," I said. "I'll think about it, is that alright?"

"Sure—sure," he said. "But if I give you the sixty, I'll want you in here before AND after work, understand me, boy?"

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"I'll give you to Monday to decide...if you want to suck my cock be here at 2 o'clock Monday--got it, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

I thought about his proposal the entire walk home. I pictured myself kneeling between his legs kissing and licking the smooth, hot flesh of his cock. I imagined what it would be like to slide my lips over his cockhead and suck on his prick until he came in my mouth. I wondered what his cum would taste like.

By the time I got home I had a raging boner. I quickly stripped off my clothes and lay on the bed. I stroked my four-inch hard-on but it didn't seem to be enough. I turned and lay on my side and took the middle finger of my right hand in my mouth and coated it with saliva. I pressed it against my anus--a thrill ran up and down my spine. 

My God, John, what are you doing? I wondered. My actions took me completely by surprise.

I didn't care. Having a man's cock in my ass had awakened something deep within me—I was finally free from my inhibitions. 

My hand became a blur on my shaft as I massaged my anus. I felt the familiar churning in my balls. I stroked my cock faster. Instinctively, I pushed my finger half-way into my asshole and my hips suddenly began to buck wildly as the cum raced out of my balls and shot great streams of semen onto the bedspread. 

Just before I dozed off I felt incredibly happy that The Old Man had shown me my true nature. My orgasms were getting stronger and more intense and I felt like this was just the beginning of a wonderful new life.

I looked forward to Monday—I couldn't wait to kneel between a man's legs and take his hard cock into my mouth.

About a block away from the restaurant was a photography studio. Every day I walked by I just glanced at the photos. On my way to work on Monday I stopped and studied them. I noticed that all of the photos were of boys who were close to my age. Some of the boys were ruggedly handsome while the others, I thought, looked fresh and pretty. 

I liked them all—they made me feel good. I was impressed with the photographer.

The Old Man was behind the counter counting the lunch receipts. When he looked up and saw me he smiled and motioned me over.

He whispered to me: "Why are you here so early?"

I blushed and was momentarily confused but then I understood.

"I want to suck your cock," I said softly.

"Go to my office and take off your clothes. Wait for me on your knees beside the couch—I want you to have an erection when I get there."

"Yes, sir."

The tone of his voice—the abrupt command—the absolute crudeness excited me. A wave of lust and desire washed over me--my cock became semi-hard inside my pants.

The head cook saw me walk through the kitchen. I noticed him checking his watch then a wry smile appeared on his lips. He knew, I'm sure they all knew why I was there early. I didn't care.

I stripped and neatly placed my clothes on a chair. I went to my knees in front of the couch. I wasn't sure which way I should be facing. I turned and faced the door so he would see me as soon as he came into the room.

I began playing with my cock and balls. I was so overwhelmed with excitement and anticipation that it didn't take long for my cock to stand straight out. I absentmindedly stroked my erection while I waited for him.

When he entered the room he said, "Clasp your hands behind your neck."

He went to his desk, sat down, and shuffled some papers. He made me wait a couple minutes before he came over and stood directly in front of me. He looked down at me—I looked up at him.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I want to suck your cock, sir."

"What if I don't want you to?"

"No—please, sir. Please let me suck your cock—please teach me how to suck your cock, sir," I pleaded as my own penis began to throb.

"Do you want to do whatever I tell you to do? Do you want to obey me?"

"Ohh, yes sir—I want to do everything you tell me—I want to obey you."

"Good," he said, "I expect to find you in this position every day at 2 o'clock whether I'm in this room or not—if I'm here, do not say a word—don't talk to me, just strip and get into position, do you understand, boy?"

"Yes, sir—I understand--I'll be here, sir."

"And after you finish your work at night do the same thing—come in here—get ready for me—and don't talk to me until I talk to you—do you want to do this for me, boy?"

"Yes, sir—I want to do this for you, sir."

"Good, boy...there are two more conditions you must agree to...first, not a word will be said during our 2 o'clock meeting...you will get on your knees and wait for me...when I come to you, you will open my slacks and pull them and my boxers down to my knees...you will then cup my balls in your right hand and take hold of the base of my cock with your left...you will kiss and lick my cock all over until I am fully hard...when I'm hard you will wet your lips and place them around my glans...you will then begin sucking my cock and massaging my balls—remember—I expect to feel your tongue on my cock at all times—when I cum in your mouth you will swallow every drop—when I pull my penis from your mouth you will use your lips and tongue to clean it—you will then replace my clothing, get dressed and go have your lunch before work—do you want to do this for me, boy?"

"Ohhh, yes, sir—oh yes I want to do this for you," the desperation in my voice surprised me. I was becoming a completely different person and I loved it.

"If you disobey me—or if you fail to swallow all of my sperm—you will receive a spanking, and I know you remember how unpleasant for you that was—do you still want to do this, boy?"

My head was swimming in lust, "Oh God, yes sir—I want to do this for you, sir."

He patted my head and said, "Good, boy—take out my cock and suck me off—I'll teach you what to do and then you'll be on your own—do it now, boy—suck my cock."

"Yes, sir—thank you, sir."

My hands trembled as I fumbled with his belt. The sound his zipper made when I pulled it down was so sexy I swooned in delight. I pulled his clothes to his knees and cradled his balls in my right hand and took hold of his cock with my left. I immediately pressed my lips and tongue to his cock-flesh—I kissed it all over. His manly aroma filled my nostrils and made my cock throb even more.

In a soft, yet firm voice he gave me a non-stop litany of instructions. He was my guide—my coach—my mentor and I listened, absorbed and followed every command. 

My balls ached when I got my first taste of his pre-cum on my tongue. When I closed my lips around his cockhead I moaned and my mind thought of nothing else but his deliciously soft flesh.

I began bobbing my head back-and-forth on his cock. I took as much of his shaft into my mouth as I could, licking every inch of it. His cock was hot and smooth and I reveled in the texture and flavor. 

I gently massaged his balls while my mouth worked on his shaft. I stroked the lower half of his cock while greedily sucking the head and upper shaft. A steady groan came from my throat--I was lost in the sucking—his soft flesh and manly aroma was all-consuming. 

He began pumping his hips—pushing his cock deeper-and-deeper into my mouth. His balls were heavy in my hand and I knew they were full of hot cum that would soon be gushing down my willing throat.

Suddenly, he grasped my head in his hands and held me still. He wildly thrust his cock in-and-out of my mouth. My lips and tongue found a rhythm to the face-fucking. I felt his balls contract in my hand and I readied myself for the onslaught of his sperm. 

The first stream of cum hit the back of my throat—I fought hard not to gag and swallowed it. Then shot-after-shot of hot cum filled my desperately sucking mouth. I struggled to keep up with his massive load but was able to swallow most of his creamy discharge. 

His body suddenly became still—his hardness deflated. He slowly pulled his cock out of my mouth and presented it to my face. I used my lips and tongue to clean-off the excess semen. I could feel a stream of cum on my chin—I had failed to swallow every drop.

I replaced his clothing and waited. 

"Boy," he said, "you are a natural born cocksucker...I'll let you slide this time on the spilled cum...now get dressed and get out of here."

He had told me not to say a word so I didn't. 

I dressed and then had lunch. My cock and balls ached inside my blue jeans. While I ate lunch I hoped and prayed that after work he would fuck me in the ass.

One thing I had to admit was that the spankings had instilled a strong work ethic in me. Even though I knew he wouldn't be inspecting my work anymore, I still did the very best I could. Besides, focusing on the job took my mind off my heavy balls and my constantly semi-erect cock. The time went faster, too.

The Old Man was seated at his desk, wearing a robe when I entered his office. I didn't say a word--I stripped naked, went to my knees and clasped my hands behind my head. Then I remembered his instructions and coated my finger with saliva and rubbed it over my anus until my cock sprang a boner. Now I was ready for him.

He made me wait several minutes. When he stood before me he removed his robe, he was naked underneath. I ignored his old, wrinkled flesh and concentrated on his dangling ball sac and cock. 

"Why are you here, boy?"

"I want to suck your cock and swallow your cum, sir."

"Oh, I don't know...."

"Please let me suck your cock, sir—please let me taste your cum."

I saw his penis visibly twitch when I begged him.

"Suck me off, boy—suck my cock."

"Yes, sir—thank you, sir."

My lips and tongue went to work. He was hard in an instant and I took his bulbous cockhead into my mouth. I became lost in the sucking again. With his hot flesh in my mouth and manly aroma filling my nostrils, my mind drifted to 'my happy place' where nothing mattered but giving pleasure to a man and satisfying his carnal desires.

When his hips began pushing his cock further into my mouth I worked harder and faster. As his balls contracted in my hand I was ready for him this time. I flattened my tongue on his cock-slit and lapped-up and swallowed every drop of cum he shot into my mouth. He presented his cock to my face and I licked it clean. I was pleased and proud of myself. 

He sat on the edge of the couch.

"Suck my balls, boy—take my balls in your mouth."

"Yes, sir."

His scrotum had a thin layer of perspiration as my tongue lathered his ball sac. His balls barely fit in my mouth—I had to breathe deeply through my nose and when I inhaled his strong aroma my head swooned and my cock pulsated.

After a few minutes he pushed my head away, sat back, pulled up his legs and pushed them wide apart. I was staring directly at his puckered anus.

"Lick my asshole, boy—push your tongue inside my asshole—fuck me with your tongue, boy."

I gulped, "Yes, sir."

I wasn't sure about doing this. It never occurred to me that people did this—it seemed a little perverted to me, but I was his 'boy' now so I had to obey him.

The smell wasn't too bad. My tongue wasn't very long so I had to press my face to his ass in order for it to enter his anus. The walls of his asshole felt like sandpaper on my tongue. He had me tongue-fuck his asshole for a good ten minutes. By the time he tapped me on my head, his cock was hard again.

He had me stand by his desk then gently pushed me forward until my chest and belly were lying on the desktop. I spread my legs wide apart without him saying anything. 

I felt his oily finger on my anus. I couldn't help moaning when his finger entered my asshole. He took his time getting me ready; I think he enjoyed hearing the animal-like noises he elicited from my throat as he oiled me.

By the time he pushed his cock inside me I was trembling with pent-up lust. With each thrust of his hips my cock pressed against the wooden desk. My head rolled from side-to-side, my mouth open with drool dripping on the desktop. 

He fucked me faster and harder. I cried out whenever his cock bumped my prostate. I didn't think of myself as a slut or a whore—I just loved the feel of his cock inside me. 

I admired his stamina; he fucked me for a full ten minutes before I felt his cock expand inside me and he cried out and unloaded his balls in my asshole. I screamed and shouted as my own balls erupted and load-after-load of cum splashed on the side of his desk. He collapsed on my back and we rested, gulping for air.

When he got off me I hurried to the bathroom, his cum dripping down my legs; he followed me. I used a warm wash cloth to clean his cock and scrotum as his cum flowed out of my hole into the toilet.

I cleaned the side of his desk and the floor where my semen had made a mess. We dressed in silence—words were not needed. We smiled at each other as I walked out the door.

The next day as I walked by the photography studio something caught my eye. There was a new photo in the window. I stood and stared at the boy in the picture—he was gorgeous—I couldn't take my eyes off him.

Suddenly the front door opened and I snapped out of my reverie. A big, hairy man came outside and greeted me. 

"Hey there, young man, are you interested in photography?" he asked.

"Ah, I...ah, yeah—you have some nice pictures here," I stammered and blushed.

He studied me. "Have we met? You look familiar...wait, do you work at the restaurant?"

"Yeah, ah...I'm a dishwasher there."

He smiled. "Ohhhh, yeah...you're The Old Man's new 'dishwasher'...I eat there every day—I've seen you there. How do you like it so far?"

There was something about the look on his face and the tone of his voice that made me think he knew what I really did for The Old Man. In this neighborhood there weren't many secrets.

"Ah, it's okay," I said shyly.

"You know, son, you're a very good-looking boy. Have you ever been a model?"

"Well, ah...no...."

"Would you like to try it? Would you like to see your photo in my window?"

I blushed again. "Well, I wouldn't know what to do..."

"It's very easy—I'll guide you through the photo shoot...I'll even pay you twenty dollars...it'll only take an hour or so."

"Twenty dollars?" I asked. "For an hour?" He nodded yes. "Ah, yeah, sure—I'd like that."

"My name is Barry," he said, and I told him my name and we shook hands. "How about tomorrow at eleven?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll be here."

"Great," he said then went inside.

He's going to pay me twenty dollars? I wondered. I always thought you had to pay the photographer?

He's not a very good businessman, I thought.

After work that night The Old Man sat on the couch and had me face away from him. I positioned my asshole on his cock and had to raise and lower myself on him. It was a lot of work but I loved the sensations he gave me—my prostate was stimulated with each thrust and I shot the most cum ever. I thanked him profusely when I left.

As is my habit, I was ten minutes early for my 'photo shoot'. There was no one in the front of the store but I heard voices coming somewhere from the back. A curtain covered a doorway and I peeked inside.

There were bright lights and when my eyes focused I saw what appeared to be a mother and her two young daughters posing for Barry. He was very professional—I was impressed.

They must have been there awhile because in a minute or so Barry announced he was done. He turned off the lights and they headed for the front. I stood in the store and looked at more of his work. He was pleased to see me.

I waited while the woman wrote a check and left with her kids. Barry locked the door.

"I don't like to be disturbed during a shoot," he explained.

I followed him into the studio but was immediately confused. We walked all the way past where I'd seen the woman and kids posing and he led me through a door into a room in the back of the studio. 

"I'm going to turn on the lights—it's going to be very bright," he warned me.

"Okay," I said.

Sure enough—the lights were blindingly bright. I shielded my eyes and gradually got accustomed to it.

I surveyed the room: a long couch against one wall, and a huge bed in the middle against another wall. The bed had a black sheet on it, and the walls were covered by dark red wallpaper. Huge light stands stood in front of the bed. It looked pretty cheesy and for a moment I wondered if I'd made a mistake.

He saw my alarm and tried to put me at ease.

"Johnny," he said, "...don't worry about a thing—you won't have to do anything you don't want."

He then explained what he wanted: "Johnny, I'm going to take some test shots to make sure the lighting is just right...then when I tell you, I want you to slowly unbutton your shirt, okay?"

"Unbutton my shirt?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes, this will all be done very tastefully...you know, I mentioned to The Old Man that you were going to pose for me and he assured me that you are a cooperative boy."

My heart sank. Barry obviously knew I was The Old Man's boy, and I could imagine Barry complaining to him if I didn't go along. I felt like I was trapped between a rock and a hard place.

I resigned myself to my fate reminding myself about the twenty dollars I would get afterwards.

Barry began shooting me. Over and over he told me to relax and enjoy myself. At first I had to force a smile, but it wasn't long before I was into it, and my smile came naturally.

"Okay, Johnny, I'm ready...go ahead and unbutton your shirt—slowly."

He kept up a running commentary: "That's good—very good—two buttons to go---excellent—just let your shirt dangle open for a minute—yeah, that's it—put your hands at your sides—perfect—now open your shirt and take it off—slowly—yeah—good—now throw it at the couch—oh yeah—very good—sit on the bed and take off your shoes and socks—good—good—now stand up and unfasten your belt—slowly—very good—pull down your zipper—oh yeah—very sexy—you're a beautiful boy Johnny—now very slow—wriggle your hips and push your jeans to the floor."




On Loving Men Ch. 01



He was so professional in his direction and demeanor I became totally relaxed and decided I would do whatever he asked. When I pushed down my jeans and he had me step out of them I felt like the sexiest boy alive. I stood before him in my red string, bikini briefs, my penis began twitching in my briefs. I followed his directions.

"Oh, Johnny—you're beautiful—you're gorgeous—open your legs and run your hands up and down your thighs—that's it—perfect—God you're a sweet boy, Johnny—you are a sweetie—yes—you're getting excited—oh that's beautiful sweetie—oh yes—you're fully aroused—very sexy—you're trying to burst out of your briefs—perfect—take hold of it sweetie—take hold of it and squeeze it—nice—NICE—stroke it sweetie—slowly—I can see you breathing hard sweetie—very good—hook your thumbs in your briefs and slowly push them down—slowly—excellent—it's about to come free sweetie—real slow now—push your briefs lower—good—lower—excellent—there it is sweetie—it's gorgeous—you have a gorgeous cock sweetie—push your briefs to your knees and leave them there—excellent—put your left hand on your hip and rub your balls with your other hand—nice—very good—you are such a sweet boy Johnny—keep rubbing your balls—nice—now use your other hand and hold your cock—point it at the camera sweetie—beautiful—now stroke it for me sweetie—slowly—keep rubbing your balls sweetie—good—now stroke your cock faster sweetie—nice—very good—that's a good rhythm—keep going—you are a sweet boy Johnny—keep going—close your eyes and tilt your head back—no-no too much—oh yeah—much better—stroke it faster sweetie—that's it—good—good—faster sweetie—I know you want to cum sweetie—go faster—that's it—good boy—cum for me sweetie—let it go Johnny—show me your cum baby—THAT'S IT—OH YEAH—OH YEAH SWEETIE—OH YEAH—GET IT ALL OUT SWEETIE—OH YEAH—BEAUTIFUL—BEAUTIFUL—nice job sweetie—you were great—just great—go ahead and wipe yourself Johnny—good job—you were great Johnny."

I couldn't believe I just masturbated in front of a stranger, and I didn't feel any shame or remorse. What was I turning into? I wondered.

I was still gasping for air as I dressed. I felt great—my head was clear and I was happy.

He shut off the bright lights. There was a dim overhead light still on. He came to where I was standing. He had the widest smile I'd ever seen. He put his hands on my shoulders.

"Johnny, you were fantastic—you're a natural—very realistic—you're so hot you could have a big future in modeling—look at what you did to me," he said and pointed to his crotch.

I lowered my eyes and blushed. There was an enormous bulge in the front of his slacks. He put his arms around me and pulled me close. We hugged. He kissed my forehead and cheeks. Suddenly he pressed his lips against mine. He kissed me—it was the first time I'd kissed a man. I kissed him back.

He took my hand and placed it on his bulge. He pressed my hand against it then ran my hand along the entire length of it. I had just had a wonderful orgasm but my penis began twitching already inside my pants. His cock was huge. I wanted to see it—hold it—caress it—kiss it. I didn't know what to do—what to say.

He saw my indecision—my uncertainty. 

He said, "Believe it or not, the session only took thirty minutes...there's still plenty of time before you have to go to work."

My hand was still on his cock. I squeezed it. I just had to see this monster.

He read my thoughts and opened his slacks and pushed them and his boxers to his knees.

He heard me take a deep gulp of air as I saw his cock for the first time.

My eyes flew wide open. His cock was ten inches long and had to be three inches around. I held it with both hands. I ran my hand down to his balls. They were very heavy in my small hand. We kissed again. My own cock grew stiff.

We looked into each others' eyes. We both felt the same thing. We hurriedly stripped off our clothes and he gently laid me on the bed. His chest and back were completely covered with hair. He was a huge, hairy bear of a man. 

He lay on top of me and I tried to put my arms around him. They only made it half-way.

We kissed—our tongues melded together. He rolled us over until I was on top of him. His huge weapon pressed insistently against my flesh. I reached down and stroked it. It was alive to my touch. It jumped and trembled in my hand.

I kissed my way down his hairy chest and belly until I was kneeling between his legs. I was hypnotized by his cock. I kissed it all over. I breathed his aroma and it sent chills up and down my spine. I kissed and licked his huge balls. I tried to get one in my mouth but it was too big. 

I couldn't get his cockhead in my mouth either so I glued my lips and tongue to his hot flesh and stroked his shaft with both hands. He lay back and moaned his approval.

His scent drove me crazy. I greedily lapped-up his pre-cum—it was delicious—I desperately wanted him to cum in my mouth. 

My hands pushed and pulled his monster shaft. I slobbered over his cockhead. My head was swimming in a fog of lust I'd never known before. His hips began to jerk and he cried out. 

I pressed my lips over his cock-slit and took his barrage of cum in my mouth. I frantically swallowed all I could. He filled my mouth four or five times with his salty but sweet jism and I managed to swallow a good amount of it. 

When his groaning and jerking subsided, I licked his cockhead clean. I buried my face in his cum-matted belly hair and savored his nectar. 

My own balls ached and cried out for release but I decided to postpone my pleasure. 

I gave his penis one last kiss and then we dressed. He kissed my cum-slick lips as we walked to the front of the store. He gave me a twenty dollar bill. I almost felt guilty taking it.

"Do you have any more work for me," I asked shyly.

"Well, not really, unless..." he said then abruptly stopped.

"Unless what?" I asked.

"Well," he said, looking rather sheepish. "I already have enough photos of you by yourself...if you want to pose with another boy—then yes, I can get you more work."

"What does that mean? What kind of 'posing' would I do with another boy?"

"Well," he said then cleared his throat. "You'd have sex with the boy...you would satisfy him with your hands and mouth then...you know...."

"Then what?" I pressed him.

"Then you would bend over and take him in your bottom."

"Oh," I said.

He explained further: "None of the boys I work with are 'overly-endowed', if you know what I mean...it wouldn't be anything like if I did that to you—no, I would never even try such a thing—I'd split you in half...all I can tell you is I'd never have you do anything that I thought would hurt you."

"Oh..." I said.

"Think about it...you would make a hundred dollars a session and you could have as many as three sessions a week...think about it and let me know, okay?"

"Oh...yeah—okay."

When I left the store I stopped and looked at the photo of the beautiful boy I'd seen earlier. I wondered if he would be one of my 'partners'.

When I bent over for The Old Man that night, I dreamt of the beautiful boy, and, I imagined it was Barry's huge cock pumping in and out of me. My orgasm was spectacular.

For three-days-in-a-row I knocked on Barry's door, but he wasn't there.

On the fourth day, he opened the door and let me in.

"'I'd like to do it," I said.

His huge smile warmed my heart.

On Loving Men Ch. 1