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Freshman year in college, I thought I would try to impress my professor in Sociology of Gender by writing a paper on the inner working of mobile gay hookup apps. Really, I was just looking for an easy topic to write about for my final paper, that I wouldn't have to do too much research for. I ended up writing exclusively about Grindr and its colorful inhabitants.
First, I explained, there are four basic types of profiles: the sexually explicit-to the point profile, the looking for relationship/friends (LTR,LFF) types, the artsy/ethereal weird guys and finally the blank, little to no information profiles. There would occasionally be bleed over from one type into another, but most usually fit into those defined parameters.
The running joke for the sexy profiles was they used a ton of acronyms and initialisms. You'd see BB, BBC, DDF, PNP, DFW, and a myriad of other comical letter pairing spelling out a hilarious variety of sex preferences and acts. I hate to stereotype, and I also don't judge, but my experience with these types of guys was that they were shallow, not super bright and often had underlying issues that you didn't want to dig too deeply into.
I fell into the second category. At 18, I finished my first year at college hopeful that my year of random sexual encounters with young men of varying quality would lead to something more substantial next year; something that could last more than one night. My profile gave my basic stats: 18, six foot tall, 130 pounds, twink, and had a picture of me in an American flag tank top. The title read "Into other young good looking men."
I know arrogant, right? Anyways, the body of my profile stated that I was masc, looking for the same and open to a LTR. It went on to tell the grindr boys not to be shy about messaging me. Pretty par for the Grindr course.
The most intriguing profiles were the non-conformist list makers. They'd tell you about their Netflix queue, their favorite transcendentalist artists, how much they love yoga or Pilates, how they were just passengers on this train called life. I found these guys might give you a blow job and good sex, but they were just as likely to get wine drunk and tell you how they wish they had been born in Athens 2500 years ago.
The last Grindr archetype was the easiest to spot, and in my case the easiest to avoid. Their profile pictures either had the boring grey mask that the app defaulted you to or some random picture of nature like a cloud, a waterfall or a lightning storm in a desert. Information on these profiles was scant. Some had no identifying marks at all, others just an age, still some only a height and weight. Experience told me that these guys were either catfish (people not willing to show themselves because they think they're ugly), closet cases (guys who want to fuck you on Saturday night and sit in the front row of Church on Sunday morning) or old guys who just came out and didn't know how to work apps on their phones.
With all that exposition out of the way, let me tell you how my profile got me into trouble.
I'm the type of guy who isn't all about that Grindr life. I don't have notifications turned on, and I mostly only look at the app when I go to the bathroom. Some people read magazines, I look at cute boys. I always got a kick at looking how far away the nearest guy was to me and how recently they'd been online. Once the guy in the stall next to me had the little green dot indicating he was online and the app told me he was 15 feet away. Ironically we didn't end up fucking, but did become friends and he helped me with some of his experiences for my paper.
So after being away for a year at school, I moved back home for the summer with the intention of relaxing, working out, maybe getting a tan. That lasted a whopping three days because it turns out I'm not hard wired to sit around and do nothing. The thing was, I didn't want to get some boring job either. I wanted to be independent and find my own way.
That's how I ended up looking on the Craigslist Gigs section for random odd jobs.
The first few I found were okay. I mowed a lawn for twenty bucks. I helped an old lady polish her silver, impressed that she knew how to use the internet and that she trusted a random kid to clean her valuable silverware. When I landed a long term gig, it was both great and not so great all at once.
My eye was caught more by the pay than the actual job. Two hundred dollars a day is a lot of money to a college freshman. The ad stated that the guy was building a garden in his back yard and needed someone to pick all the rocks and weeds out of the ground that he had tilled up. I've never done anything like that, so I thought I'd give it a shot.
Jim Edgerton was the very nice, and equally as quirky, man who listed the ad. His house was in one of those American Castle type neighborhoods with the obnoxious home owners associations. No surprise, his house stuck out like a sore thumb. While all the other borderline mansions in his community sported the same red brick, white trim, blue shutter cookie cutteresque style, his home was clearly that of a modern progressive.
When I first met him, he went out of his way to tell me how he wanted to be environmentally conscious. He had installed solar panels on the roof (the HOA tried to make him take them down), gotten energy efficient windows installed (the HOA fined him, he never paid them), placed 8 rain water barrels in his back yard (also against the rules) and finally, as a last stroke of defiance, he had tilled up his once immaculate back yard lawn to build a garden for fresh vegetables.
He explained that the work would be pretty simple. I would need to be there by 9:00am and work until noon picking out rocks, breaking up clumps of dirt and picking out weeds and grass from the soil. At lunchtime, he'd let me into his air-conditioned patio to have whatever delicious creation his wife had cooked up that day (some days a simple sandwich, others elaborate fruit salads or wraps). He'd let me take the whole hour before having me go back out until 5:00pm, when his wife would have dinner ready for me to take home in eco-friendly tupperware.
All in all, the pay was way too much for the work. This guy and his wife were so nice too. He had two teenaged boys, 14 and 15, who he always kept busy doing inside projects. They were also very nice, in the limited interactions that I had with them. The hitch for me was my bathroom breaks.
Jim told me early on that if I needed to run to the bathroom, to just take my shoes off and use the toilet right inside the patio door. I will admit that I took a few more breaks than I needed because kneeling, standing, sitting, crouching and hauling off rocks and weeds is not fun work. After the second day on the job, I also started working shirtless to build up a tan. The sun sapped a ton of my energy, but after a few days of light burns, I started building up a golden tone on my back, arms and chest.
A week after beginning my digging in the dirt gig, I was in the bathroom doing what I always did: cooling my butt on the frigid porcelain of the toilet seat and looking at Grindr. I saw the usual suspects, but in the first slot, next to my profile was a new, blank profile. It was online and 100 feet away. If you're familiar with geolocation, that means the person was practically right on top of me.
I decided it was best to stop my bathroom Grindr breaks to avoid whoever the new arrival on the hookup app was. In my mind, it was either Jim, the happily married forty something father of two or one of his holier than though HOA neighbors who would out me to Jim and get me fired. It was a fair sacrifice for me to take the $1000 a week and just wait until I got home to look at what cute boys were nearby.
June 20th was the day that things got weird. Jim told me that morning that he and his wife would be heading out of town, and that his kids would be staying in the house with his neighbor coming over to check on them every night. He said that he was happy with my progress on his garden and showed me some pictures of the frames he wanted me to build to section off different area for different produce once I was done clearing out debris.
The reason I remember June 20th was my birthday is June 27th. I was always the youngest kid in class because I had that odd summer birthday and my parents wanted me to be a year ahead instead of a year behind. Anyway, with Jim out of town, I decided to chance a look at Grindr during my morning potty break.
The blank profile was still there, only this time, much like the bathroom in the dorm, it was 15 feet away.
"Oh shit," I said out loud, pulling up my dirty jeans, washing my hands and heading out the bathroom door to the patio.
"Where you headed?" said the voice of Jim's oldest son sitting on the patio.
I knew I was busted but tried to play it off.
"Back to the old grind," I replied realizing instantly that saying "grind" was a poor choice of words.
"I see you like to grind on my Dad's dime, don't you?" he said standing up to block the path to the doorway. "I bet my Dad wouldn't like you wasting time on fake bathroom breaks so you can try to get off with other dudes."
This kid had me frozen. I stood there like an idiot with my mouth opening and closing trying and failing to form words. He took another step towards me.
"That's what I thought," he smugly stated. "Here's what's going to happen: my brother is at a friend's house until lunch. Between now and then, I want the best blow job you've ever given. Once you're done, you can go back to work until I decide it's time to use you again."
There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen.
"Look man, I don't know what you think you have over me but I'm not going to do that," I said only half believing myself. "I'm just going to go back to work and you can tell your Dad whatever when he gets back."
I tried to get to the door outside, but as I neared the younger boy, he stepped into me with his body, wrapping his hand around my wrist, his other arm around my neck and planted a leg behind mine and flipped me pover in one seemingly effortless motion onto the ground. My back slapped into the cold tile of the floor and I shivered as he landed with a thud on top of me.
"Did you think it was gonna be that easy?" the boy taunted me. "My Dad maybe a hippy pacifist liberal, but that doesn't mean he didn't make sure his kids were trained to stand up for ourselves. I've been going to Judo since I was six and I'm guessing you've never been in a fight in your life."
He wasn't wrong. Try as I might, and I did try, I couldn't get out of his grip. Still, I was determined not to let this teenager have his way with me.
"You're right dude, I've never been in a fight and you can probably beat me up, but I'm not going to give you head. You're like 15 and I could go to jail," I tried to reason with him. "Please just let me go so I can do my job."
He shifted his weight on top of me and pulled me into a headlock.
"First off, it's not dude," he began tightening his grip on my neck. "My name's Luke. You can call me Luke, or Sir. Second, I'd have to tell someone you forced me into something for you to get in trouble. And third, if you don't get on your knees, put my dick in your mouth and suck like there's no tomorrow in the next twenty seconds, I'm not going to beat you up; I'm going to beat your ass."
Squeezing my neck one more time, he pushed me away and rolled to a standing position. I went to stand but he grabbed my hair and forced me back onto my knees. He pressed my face into his shorts, red nylon brushing against my face.
"You know you want this," he taunted, jerking my head from one side of his crotch to the other.
The thing was, Luke was super attractive. He had reddish brown hair, freckles that would have made him look boyish if not for his strong square jaw line, five foot eight with room to grow and a body that was way more developed than the average boy his age. Against my will, I found my jeans tighten as my cock expanded.
But I still wasn't going to give in.
"I'm done man," I yelled pushing away from him with both hands. "I'm getting the fuck out of here!"
He let me struggle to my feet, releasing his grip on my hair. I thought for the briefest moment that I might get out of there but his arm around my neck three seconds ended that illusion.
Using the exact same maneuver he had a moment before, he subdued me again, throwing me face down this time onto the two seater wicker bench that overlooked the garden. Somehow he twisted my body across the length of the bench with my head held tightly in his arm, my face pressed into his abs.
None of this was helping my erection.
Luke let go of my head and I again tried to get away, only to again effortlessly reposition over his lap. His left hand grasped a clump of hair on the back of my head while his right leg quickly moved over my own legs and locked them into place. How Judo is even legal, I don't know…
If I wasn't panicking before, this was where I lost it. I kicked and pushed and screamed and flopped to no avail. This kid had me at his mercy over his knees.
"You done?" he snickered after establishing that I wasn't getting away. "I'm going to spank your ass now until you do what I say, or my brother gets home, whichever happens first."
I gave one last effort to get free, but at this point, it was almost comical how pathetically outmatched I was. He bent his right knee, which forced me to arch my back and reached underneath me. With surprising deftness, he unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants and pushed them as low as they would go with his legs blocking their path.
As I stated before, at six foot, 130, I wasn't exactly built for strength. My frame also made it hard to shop for clothes, particularly underwear given that the adult small sizes I had tried were too baggy and didn't fit right. Which left me with the option of buying older kids underwear, of the 14-16 youth variety. Not knowing I was going to get spanked by a boy three years younger than me that day, I couldn't have chosen a worse pair.
"Seriously," he laughed on seeing them. "The Boy Wonder? You're wearing little kids underoos?"
I thought my Robin underwear were cute but Luke seemed to find them infantilizing. There were images of the classic Robin, with his bare legs, green trunks and yellow cape all over the fabric covering my butt. And in case you're wondering, it did in fact say "The Boy Wonder" in comic book print right across the middle.
"Please dude, just let me up," I begged. "I'll never tell anyone and I'll never come back just please let me go."
That plea was met with a hard smack in the center of my Robin boy briefs.
"Owww!" I cried out, reaching behind me to shield my upturned bottom.
Luke grabbed my forearm and twisted it into the small of my back. I was now completely immobile.
"I told you," Luke said sternly, applying a second spank to the same spot he had just struck. "It's Luke or Sir."
Another swat landed hard against my left cheek.
"Although maybe now, you should just stick with Sir, okay boy?"
Who was this kid? Stalking me on Grindr, blackmailing me to give him oral sex, overpowering me like I was a ragdoll and now spanking me like a chastised child.
"Please Sir," I plead in desperation. "I just want to go home."
There was an edge of fear and anticipation in my voice. He'd only struck me three times and already I could feel my buns warming up. To make matters worse, my traitor of a dick was at full mast, trying desperately to escape the confines of my Robin undies.
"That's better," he said planting another swat on the seat of my rump. "You can go home when I'm done with you, and you're done with your work."
He continued the spanking giving hard, deliberate strokes at random. More humiliating than the spanking was the lecture he gave me throughout.
"Don't pretend you're not enjoying this either boy," he mocked me, picking up his pace. "I felt your hard on when I took your pants down. You're getting off on this just as much as I am."
Four blows in rapid succession made me flex my buttocks which got a giggle out of my spanker.
"Just think," he continued spanking and talking. "You could be having a good time with a… How did you put it? Masc guy for LTR, whatever the fuck that means."
My butt was starting to burn as he carried on his lecture, alternating between swift sharp pops with his cupped hand and slow hard burning swats that make it feel as if his hand was a two by four.
"I mean, it's not like you don't want to suck my dick," Luke inferred. "You're hard as a rock under your little kids briefs; I can feel it."
Ashamed and embarrassed, I pleaded with him to stop.
"Luke, please," my voice cracked warning that I was close to tears. "I'm sorry, please stop spanking me!"
That set him off. He squeezed his legs tighter around mine and hauled my arm up my back almost to the shoulder blade before leaning in to demolish my cloth clad ass. I could barely make out between the quickly delivered sounds of his hand meeting my tender flesh as he instilled in me a lesson that I would not forget.
"Call me Sir you little shit!" he shouted, carrying on as if I had insulted his mother or something. "I'm going to break you and make you mine if it takes all afternoon."
I don't remember if it was the prospect of an hours long spanking from Luke, or a moment later when he gingerly slid my briefs off my butt, down to my thighs, but I do remember starting to cry like I hadn't since I was a kid and Ole Yeller died.
"Please Sir! I'm sorry Sir! I'll do whatever you want Sir! Please stop!" I sobbed into the seat of the wicker bench.
None of that had any effect on him except to steel his resolve to make me his bitch. At that point, I would have given him the blow job to make him stop. I probably would have let him fuck me to be honest; anything to stop him from harming my now crimson bottom any further.
"Yeah, that's right," he stated triumphantly. "You will do what I want."
More spanks rained down on my now bare ass. Some I didn't even feel, but for the vibrations they sent up my back and down my legs. He must have been spanking me for a good 10 minutes and my butt was starting to go numb and yet somehow hurt more all at the same time.
"I'll let you go right now," he offered while still apply his palm to my cheeks. "If you take what you've got coming without fighting it."
It's not like I could have refused at that point. I gave the best response I could.
"Yassir," I gasped between the now deep, heaving sobs my body was experiencing. "Thank you Sir!"
He tentatively let go of my arm, I assume to see if I would fight him. I didn't. I couldn't. Next he removed his legs. Again he paused before lifting me off of his lap onto my knees.
I couldn't bring myself to look into his eyes as I knew that now that he had broken me, he was going to use me how he wanted to in the first place. He surprised me though, by standing and walking past me. With a tenderness I hadn't expected, he gently pushed my upper body onto the bench, which in turn forced my bottom into a completely exposed position.
Only when I heard the jingle of my belt buckle did I lose my resolve. Rather than trying to run as I had earlier, I resigned myself to my unjust fate and waited for him to apply leather to skin. And by resigned myself, I mean I cried even harder, bringing my arms into a nest of sorts that I buried my face in as I bawled.
Whether out of mercy, cruelty or just to prolong the agony, Luke waited until I stopped crying before he whipped the belt across my ass. The sound of the crack against my skin scared me almost as much as the pain that felt like a searing belt shaped brand was being burned into my already burning backside.
I wailed anew, but made no move to escape for fear of what other tortures he might have me endure. In all, he belted me only six times, each time waiting until my cries abated before refreshing them with another crack. The pathetic mass draped over the bench that used to be me didn't even have the strength to get up when I was told to.
"Stand up boy," Luke ordered, but not with the cruel tone he'd delivered his other words with.
Along with my sore ass, my knees, calves and thighs were also in pain from kneeling, flailing around during my punishment and being squeezed tightly throughout. I faltered in standing and felt strong hands grab me under my arms. Luke lifted me to my feet and stood me upright.
"Go to the corner," he directed, turning me to the wall where the patio met the house. "Put your hands on your head and wait there."
I walked, or rather hobbled, to the corner with my jeans bunched around my ankles, my pathetic comic book underoos clinging about my knees. Luke watched with great interest as I turned, making no effort to cover the shame of my hard dick, slick with precum. Through my tears, I saw him licking his lips while looking at my member, which only served to encourage me to hustle to the corner.
Once I was in place, my hands clasped behind my head, one elbow touching each wall, he came up behind me and pressed my nose into the corner. That had the effect of forcing me to arch my back and stick out my butt, which made contact with the sheer material of Luke's shorts. The feeling was electric and I shuddered a deep sigh as he backed away, leaving a void where silky basketball shorts were to be filled with the lingering pain of a well spanked bottom.
I heard him leave the room briefly, not daring to look, before returning and taking a seat. I heard the uncapping of a bottle. I heard the unmistakable sound of lubricant being applied to his cock. I heard the savage wanton moans of a teenage boy in heat as he stroked his meat. I heard the splat as his cum made contact with something, followed by five more splats and then a momentary dribble.
Finally, he left the room again and I chanced a look behind me. In the reflection of the window, I saw not only the crimson shade of red that lit up my ass, but shades of purple and blue where the belt had cut so deep into my skin that it bruised. When I heard Luke return, I snapped my head back into the corner.
He walked up behind me and knelt. Slowly, he lifted my Boy Wonder briefs up, reaching around in front of me to tuck my hard dick inside of them. He then stood, turned me around and laughed at the big R symbol that dominated the front of the underwear. The outline of my cock warped the shape of the circle around the letter to more of an oval.
"Pull your pants up," he said smirking at me. "Here's your belt."
I yanked up my jeans and slid the belt through the loops, doing my best to ignore the half stinging/half burning sensation coming from the seat of my pants. I zipped, buttoned and buckled myself up and only then had the courage to look at the young man standing in front of me.
"You've got work to do," Luke told me, as if he hadn't just treated me like a toddler. "It's already 11:15, so lunch is in 45 minutes. I suggest you pick up your pace so my Dad doesn't wonder why your productivity dropped off while he was gone."
For the second time that day, I froze. Was he really just going to send me back out like nothing had happened. My mouth moved to form words again, but there was no air behind them. He smirked again.
"Say Yes Sir and go outside."
What else could I do?
"Yes Sir," I responded and he moved out of the way as I walked out the door.
The thought of fleeing from him entered and just as rapidly exited my mind as I feared what that little sadist might do to me if I tried to run. I put my shoes back on and set about my work as best I could, not being nearly as productive as I should have. At noon, Luke tapped on the window, his brother standing next to him, and they waved me in.
I hurried inside, hoping to scarf down whatever lunch Mrs. Edgerton had left for me and get back to work. Luke was standing at the kitchen counter cutting sandwiches. His brother was sitting at the table, lazily playing on his Nintendo DS. Clearly, he didn't sense the tension between Luke and I or pick up the fact that his brother was looking my shirtless body over.
"Sup man," the youngest boy greeted me. "I'm Ben."
"Nic," I said, realizing that Luke up to this point didn't even know my name. I sat down not realizing how much it would hurt. When I winced, Ben looked up.
"How long is Dad going to make you dig in the dirt?" Ben asked, looking back down at his game.
"I'm not sure, he seems to think all summer," I answered as Luke materialized between us setting a plate in front of each of us. "Your Dad's pretty cool," I said hoping to engage Ben in conversation to avoid having to talk to Luke.
"Yeah, I guess," the 14 year old said dismissively. "We could do worse."
"I hear he's paying you pretty good," Luke said setting his own plate on the table. "Like a grand a week right Nicky?"
I hated being called that.
"Holy shit," Ben said putting his game down. "Really? Why didn't I agree to do that when he asked me?"
"He wouldn't have paid us that much squirt," the older boy told his brother, tussling his hair. "Besides, I'm sure Nicky here can use the money, right?"
He continued to use the infantile form of my name and directed the question daring me to say the wrong thing.
"Yes Sir," I said trying not to draw attention to my choice of words. "I need the money for college."
Ben guffawed.
"Dude, you don't have to call him Sir, he's only a year older than me," he said incredulously.
I tried to keep my cool.
"It's just a respect thing," I said, taking a bite of the sandwich in front of me. The mayo had a weird taste to it… Luke's eyes met my own.
"Like it?" he asked mischievously.
Luckily Ben had lost interest in our conversation and was eating with one hand and gaming with the other because I shot an outraged look at his older sibling. Luke just shook his head slowly and mouthed "Eat it all" before starting on his own lunch.
I did my best to just scarf the sandwich down, but Luke made me slow down by saying: "If you like it that much, I'm sure I can make you another." After that, I was forced to savor every bite of the sandwich that he had clearly laced with his semen from earlier.
When Ben finished and went to his room, Luke was left sitting next to me. I stood to leave but he grabbed my arm.
"Sit boy," he ordered as if I was his pet. "Tell me how you liked your lunch."
My face must have turned as red as a fire engine.
"Sir, if it's okay, I'd like to get back to work," I told him, trying to suppress my anger. "Thank you for lunch."
Again I tried to stand and this time he let me, but followed me out of the kitchen onto the patio. Before I could exit, he grabbed my arm and turned me to face him.
"Unless you'd like a repeat of this morning, you'd better tell me how much you enjoyed your cum sandwich and thank me properly for it," Luke whispered in a husky voice.
I knew that my only option was to appease this little tyrant so I made a production out of dropping to my knees and clasping my hands together.
"Thank you Sir for the delicious cum and turkey sandwich," I said in an almost solemn voice. "It was so good that I couldn't stop stuffing my face with it Sir. Please may I kiss your feet to thank you Sir?"
My best bet was that would catch him off guard. I was right.
"Make it quick boy," he said accepting my surrender. "And use your tongue," he added for effect.
I hunched over and pressed my open mouth onto his bare left foot and swirled my tongue around it three times before moving to the right. While Luke didn't moan, he did sigh, letting me know that he was getting off on having an older boy almost literally under his heel.
"Get out," he said as he lifted his foot short of kicking me in the jaw. "If I don't see you tonight, you better not be late tomorrow. Understand me Nicky?" Luke asked as he stood menacingly over me.
"Yes Sir!" I panted, a little louder than I meant to, scurrying to my feet and out the door.
The rest of the day I toiled in the soil like usual, even working a little extra time to make up for the time that I'd lost being the victim of my employer's son. I couldn't help but wonder what would make a kid his age so sadistic. Clearly his home life wasn't driving it. It was also unfortunate that his father's good intentions for him to protect himself were perverted into the offensive skills he used to subdue me.
Those thoughts made for a long day and as I was leaving, Ben came outside with a ziplock and a note.
"Hey man," he said handing me both. "I know Mom usually makes you dinner, but this was all Luke could come up with before he left."
"Thanks Ben," I said taking them and moving on to my car.
Once I eased myself into the seat, I opened the note. It was just a phone number and the words "Text me at 9." I drove home horrified of what the rest of the summer held for me.
© Copyright Nicholas Patrick June 27, 2015
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Last updated: June 27, 2015