Date: Mon, 30 Nov 2020 06:31:08 -0500 From: MC VT Subject: Used Goods Used Goods © MCVT2017 October 14, 2020 Queen in shining spandex offers the deal of a lifetime to a West Texas twink. You, too can be a hero through a generous donation to Nifty: http://donate.nifty.org/ 100% fiction, adult content, bt, Mt, MM, coming of age, inc. ===================================================================== Mom called it a lifestyle. Dad called it an addiction. I thought it was scary cause of the rats and snakes. My brother called it crap. Gene knew all the dirty words. Parents laughed when he said bad words. Gene was five years older than me, he got away with it because he was cute. Mom's sandy-haired jewel; Dad's first born, strong and blue-eyed; Mom called me mousey. I looked like crap. Gene was smart, a good brother. Good as he was, good as I was, didn't alter our lifestyle or straighten out the clutter at home, our lives, and sifted through the gossip in town. Mom was a hoarder; we didn't know any better. ... It began before I was born. Mom started hitting up yard sales for baby clothes. After I came, I started growing--another need to go "saleing" for boys' clothes. Can't remember wearing anything new except underwear. My used clothing was rank with the smell of bleach. Phew! Mom couldn't resist a bargain. She progressed from yard sales to flea markets, then weekend sales that featured tables and booths. Hours, Gene and I traipsed behind her pulling our carts filled with more junk. "I have a plan, you'll see." She'd remind us when we complained. Never satisfied, she moved to purchasing contents of storage sheds. She promised they were filled with treasures from the servicemen who'd forgotten to pay their fees. Always sent Gene and me in first with a stick to clear out the varmints. Though exasperated, Dad drove us in the old red truck to the storage units north of town. Mom lied. She told the storage business owners we were cleaners, and could get a space empty within the day--for a fee and haul off the contents at no extra cost. In a hundred-and-ten-degree heat of Kermit, Gene and I pulled out boxes and bins, Dad packed the trash on one side of the truck, keepers on the other. Shed emptied, Gene and I swept while Mom went for her check. She showed us a speck of generosity. After we paid the landfill fees and went home to unload that week's pile of discards, she'd order pizza. Noticed she started writing in an old green book, keeping track of something. Dad wasn't allowed to see her figures, Gene and I snickered when he tried. "Let's see what she does with it." Gene advised. ... What did she do? She bought herself a used truck and a trailer, darn it. Still used Gene and I as free labor, and now we went north into the Lubbock, west into New Mexico and south to open-air markets that sold food along with the flotsam of life. Met other kids, our kindred spirits, helping their families haul more castoffs across the planet--we weren't alone in our servitude to the ragged gods of odds and ends. Shoulda seen Mom--wheelin' and dealin' cutting a deal right and left. She came home with more money and always more junk. Dad shut up, but threatened to let the air out of her truck tires if the IRS found out about her cash. ... With a second truck, Gene, Dad and I were introduced to estate sales. Same ol' stuff without "Made in China" on the bottom. Mom rented a storage unit for the high-end detritus. Packing and hauling now included labeling, meticulous sorting. What a pain. Rush job came in. We were called to an unoccupied condo of a musician. We found two pianos and an anemic one. Looked skinny, and kinda peaked for a piano. Gene said it was a harpsichord. On top of the puny piano was a blue sticker; professional movers would come for it. I sneaked a finger under the cover and touched a key. Sounded as rangy as it looked, poor little piano. "I know how it feels to be the littlest." One, two, three rooms cluttered with books, even in the towel closet in the bath, books everywhere. Gene, being almost fourteen and smarter than me, went to check out the books by the bed immediately. Slipped his hand between the mattress and box springs and voila! He said it was a dildo; softish, flesh-colored plastic. Caught him sniffing all the weird stuff he found. Hard to pull Dad away from the video collection, but I saw Dad and Gene packing things in a bag, stashing them behind the seat of the truck. Well, if they could do it, I could too. Found a stack of comic books about composers, I asked Mom if I could have them. "There goes your pizza tonight." I put them back. ... Like a jackalope afire, Mom got a huge storage unit, almost a warehouse--she was on her fifth ledger now, keeping detailed notes. Strangely, through the next weeks, our house emptied. Disconcerted everyone as we hauled the old boxes and bags away. For the first time Gene and I saw the actual corners of rooms. My bedroom was extremely altered when I found a desk under all the crates. We had an expansive, red formica table and no one had to stand by the sink to eat any longer when four matching chairs were uncovered. Couldn't understand why Dad was upset that night. They argued into the evening, all hushed. ... In Gene's room, I found him looking through his magazines from the musician's condo. Not looking up, he patted the space next to him. I gasped at what I saw on the pages. Photos of completely naked adults. Women with no trace of motherliness; men with steely, determined glances and huge peenies sticking straight out. My god! This was enthralling. One photo showed a woman swallowing a man's rigid member, looking up at him. She seemed to have a mischievously cute expression. Didn't she know that's where pee comes from? Gene saw my face, "Mom and Dad do all this sexy stuff at night. You never heard `em banging?" "Sometimes Mom has bad dreams..." I started, but realized she wasn't having nightmares. She lied to me. "How do you think we got here, spit-wad? Mom's gonna have another bad dream tonight, trust me. That's how she gets Dad to do her schlepping." "What's she trying to get Dad to haul now?" "Haul his butt to the bank and apply for a loan with her. She wants to open an antique shop." "We don't have antiques." "Not now. Looks like she's keeping all her crap--aging the junk to up the price." Gene explained some of the photos, I didn't believe adults really did that. He assured me they did and told me what he knew. Said it wasn't nasty or disgusting, but fun, felt great. "I'll show you sometime." The handsome men caught my heart, they were so, so masculine. Those photos became my addiction when Gene showed me how to rub one out. One night, he got that dildo out and put it in his butt. Went off like a geyser--jizz flew all over the place. Waited till he was gone, and got the dildo, shoved it up my butt. Took a while--I had to contort till I got it in. Gene caught me, he didn't yell at me for swiping his stuff, he laughed. We had some great times with that dildo, then Gene wanted to give it some "realism," he called it. Fake peenie ditched for his teen peenie. It was better. If we were in a time pinch, we'd suck each other off. Yep, I did the "mischievously cute" expression for him but he seldom returned it. He said I didn't have enough to suck, so I had to take it in my butt again. Sex ed at its finest. ... The big bang happened. Mom got her loan, opened a shop in an empty building--had plans on reviving our deserted downtown, she said. "'Tiques an' Treasures" the sign read. Spacious shop, back room smelled like tarnished copper and aged leather; racks of clothes stunk like farts of the dead. By this time, Gene and I negotiated a paltry wage--there was a reason we weren't paid minimum wage. Mom and Dad had a rule: when Gene and I had enough money to date we could. There were few other jobs in town. We were economically cornered in West Odessa. Gene tried getting the girls to pay for their dates--he said he was glad to find out they were tightwads before he made is big moves. Our parent's pinch play forced us to put our nights to good use making up scenarios about the people in his magazines and became good, though ridiculous porn actors. ... Taking pity on Gene, Dad started taking him to work with him. Dad sold fertilizer, they visited some of the ranchers but mostly office work. Mostly Gene answered the phone, stuffed envelopes. I worked with Mom. Mom's junk shop was doing well, opened the back room of the shop for all the cruddy stuff, mangled sports equipment. Learned the cash register and how to lie like our 100% Persian rugs from an e-mur's palace. "Instant heirloom, from an estate sale. Yessiree sir, that old couple lived in a castle in England before they retired in Wink." Mom'd spin a tale lightning-fast if someone moseyed near the Wedgwood. Came to enjoy Saturdays at the shop, read all the books, dusted a little while Mom brought more to replenish her stock. Still "saleing" on the sly; functional addict. ... Mom advertised on the net, I packaged her `tiques and shipped them. Business was steady. When Gene graduated high school, her plan was revealed: She had enough money to pay for Gene's tuition at State. He had to live with relatives outside Dallas while he studied, but he could get a degree. All those hours sweating, all that hard labor, were for Gene's education. He began his first semester with Dad's old truck and a bag full of "lightly-worns," left home in a mist of disinfectant. I missed my brother, and began working with Mom after school, took over the online sales hoping I could go to the university too. It wasn't in the cards. Gene came home over the holidays saying he wanted to go into the military instead. He didn't like campus life. The three of them argued day and night. I was glad to get out of the dismal atmosphere at home and start the holiday music at the shop, talk to customers. ... Mom and Dad weren't as happy as before, their dreams for their first-born were obliterated when Gene was accepted in the Air Force. Somber described my parents though I hoped some of the attention that went to Gene would come my way. It didn't, I guess they didn't want to be let down again. They would be. Through my brother and his magazines, I figured out I was queer. Difficult being queer in a small town, I'd keep it to myself. Didn't have much of a choice about it in the pit of West Texas conservatism. Working, saving for tuition was a good excuse for avoiding the girls. Set my sites on college somewhere, anywhere to leave and be myself. There were no lavender clubs, no rainbows within miles. No open hatred, but an undercurrent of fear of perversity. That weighed on me, I began to withdraw until I came across a Peterson's field guide in the bargain bin. Began watching and identifying the different birds, writing the dates by the photos. Every morning I sat on the roof and watched for birds through an old pair of WWII binoculars. Mom said they were almost free they were so cheap. Of course, one lens was cracked. Waited till Mom was doing her books, hoping she'd fork a little my way for school. All my plans were dashed by one statement when I announced my college plans: "Why bother, sweetie? One day all this will be yours!" Damn, she hustled her own son. Again. They took their funds and joined a vacation club. Used Goods Part 2 My senior year, Mom and Dad flew to Tacoma to visit with Gene. I stayed to watch the shop. "Where's the lady that runs this place--she's your mom, isn't she?" A customer asked, giving me a suspicious eye. "Yeah." We began an interesting conversation, he said people were talking about me. "Word is you've got binoculars, get on the roof looking into my yard, the neighbors' windows. Voyeur, peeping tom--against the law." "I don't even know where your yard is, mister. I'm bird-watching." How offensive, "I'm not peeking." He looked at me like he didn't believe me. "Oh, really? That's what they all tell the judge." "What?" Had to think fast, I was stuck in the shop, "If you bring a hamburger and fries, we'll have lunch. I'll show you." Handed him a twenty from the till. "No pickles." When he left, I brought my bird books and binoculars from the truck. ... The man's name was Napoleon, Leon to the locals. He looked through my notes, I held up my binoculars. "I'm not spying on anyone, and I've never seen you before. Where do you live? I'll find another lookout." "Don't do that. There're bird feeders in my back yard. Watch if you like." As we ate, he laughed, told me about the birds' antics, "They all have different personalities. If you close before sunset, come over, you'll see." As soon as the clock hit seven, I turned my keys in the ignition. Leon swept the drive as I pulled in. He welcomed me around the side of the house. Had a cooler of and a bag of chips sitting between two lawn chairs. We sat watching the birds. Leon me all kinds of interesting things I'd never knew about West Texas plants and animals. My family wasn't outdoorsy unless there were improvised tables covered with broken shit labeled with prices. ... Sunday morning at dawn, stayed at my bedroom window watching Leon's yard. Didn't care so much about the birds as him. Filled his feeders, birds fluttering around. Spoke softly, from a barrel-like chest; tall man, heavy. Curious combination, being so big and drawn to the tiny, winged creatures. Broom and bucket, Leon pulled his shirt off and cleaned the patio--hair on his shoulders and chest glimmered, silver strands mixed with dark. Then, he went inside. Sat by the window to watch, sipping coffee. He picked up his binoculars. He aimed them to my window and waved, signaled me to come over. Pulled one off in record time, and left immediately. Nice house, filled with furniture that matched. He said it was his parent's house. Took me to his bedroom, "If you want extra work, I need to pack two closets of women's clothes. "Too small." I thought I heard him mutter. No designer labels; custom made. Called Mom to tell her I was closing the shop next Sunday to help Leon take his junk to a consignment shop in El Paso. She wanted me to pick up Mexican pottery; I promised but didn't mean it. ... His truck loaded, we left for El Paso. Leon explained he worked for the oil companies most his life, buying mineral rights, then moved back to care for his parents. He didn't like West Texas very much, wanted to go back to Houston for the culture. Leon was a drag queen, cross-dresser. To my amazement, he said his parents didn't mind that he performed in drag, they thought he was a beautiful woman. They didn't mind that he dressed in drag around the house. They didn't mind that he dressed in drag and went to the gay bar between Midland and Odessa, "The one with the big fence around the parking lot." For years I thought that place was a junk yard--it was a gay nightclub! As soon as I was twenty-one, I was there. Had to block that thought, I didn't have an apartment or any place to bring a date. I'd never earn enough to be anything more than a ragman. ... El Paso is a busy town, old, crowded, noisy. We wound through the narrow streets to a small house with a two-story add-on. Inside we found an empty changing room and lots of mirrors. Leon disappeared into another room, came back out and told me to bring the truck to the back. The dealing began. A short man named Fredrico peeked in the boxes, examined a few of the sequined, satin costumes with matching, accessories and wigs. He down-talked everything, making his bargain, calculating costs for resale. Kept a running total mentally. I'd seen my mother with the same look on her face. On the way back I tried to imagine Leon dressed as a woman. Smooth skin, not much beard but thick brown hair in tight waves. His facial features weren't very delicate; his body would make a stocky woman--maybe he wore shapers of some kind. I knew drag shows were rainbowish, "If you cross-dress, does that mean you're queer?" He didn't answer for a moment. "Not all cross dressers are men, and not all them are queer. For me, yes. I'm homosexual, does that upset you?" Looking out over the sage brush, wasn't sure if I should tell him--I never told anyone about being gay. "No, you probably would have tried something before now if you wanted to." Noticed my briefs were becoming uncomfortable. Got a hard-on just riding next to a gay man. Photos of those steely-eyed men from the magazines came to mind. "Turkey vulture, gray hawk... There's a flock of mourning doves over there." He pointed to the west. "I'm queer." I half whispered. "Then those doves have nothing to mourn about. Good for you." He winked, put his hand on my shoulder, "That was hard to say out loud, wasn't it?" For some reason, my eyes burned. "Next time's easier. Have you told your parents?" Didn't answer. ... Over barbeque in Wink, I explained the recycled fiasco that was my childhood. He listened patiently. "Why not go to the community college for an associate degree in business? You're already experienced with marketing." I almost laughed, but wound up snorting tea out my nose. "The junior college isn't expensive. You could open your own business." "Soon as I graduate high school, Mom'll make me work the shop while she's buying. I'll never earn enough to leave or get ahead." "Not if you're in school. Trust me, if you want a degree, we'll find a way." Suddenly I had hope. ... Leon started showing up at the shop on Saturdays, he spoke with Mom in the back room. The first Saturday, before she left, "You know, you're free to join the military, like Gene." "Thanks, but no thanks." I answered, puzzled. The second Saturday she dismissed Leon by saying we didn't carry CDs on employment law. That devil, Leon said he needed to confirm the statutes; asked nonchalantly if employees were paid minimum wage and got their breaks, "I have friends in Austin who could help you understand the law." Slick move, and my pay just doubled and I got an hour for lunch and two fifteeners. Surprisingly, Mom told me I could leave at five that afternoon. The third Saturday Mom told him she had the right to refuse service to anyone and pointed at the door. Again, he took her to the side for another business ethics lecture. This man was improving my life every week. Mom came out following Leon, her face was white. "See you at six." He winked on his way out, "Big man on campus." ... Darn right I was over at his place at six. He called me into the computer room. "Gotta shop. Men haven't worn bell bottoms in years." He measured my waist, then squatted to get my inseam. "I got a raise, my hours reduced, and Mom's paying my tuition? What happened?" "Hang around long enough and your luck is bound to change." He flicked my nose. "Your Mom owes you. I tallied the books she wasn't keeping, my man." "Did you tell her I'm queer?" "That's your responsibility." We went online to the junior college application. Not much to fill in, very small campus. When I told him I handled the online sales, he suggested I study computers with my business classes. "I'll make sure you've got plenty of work." He slung his arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek. ... After dinner, "Thanks for everything." I gave him a hug. He held me against him, this big professional and clearly powerful man. Powerful man with a huge hardon that made my peenie swell. I looked at him, wanted to ask, but didn't know how. He kissed my forehead, looked down at me and smiled, "What is it?" His eyebrows jumped in question. "I--I," Horniness overcame me, I was sweating and the images of bare skin, hunky men, then I remembered this huge man's hairy shoulders, his chest and his torso, "...want a..." Did his hair go all the way down to his peenie? Crazy thoughts, "...bang." "I want a bang?" Sounded like an idiot child. He didn't move for a long time, just held me against him. "Fresh out of gunpowder, and I'd like some affection, if you're willing." I could only nod, too embarrassed to look at his face. ... My first night with Leon, was a comedy he turned into lessons. Gay Sex 101 till eleven-thirty. Gently took me by the bed and began undressing me, slowly, while he kissed me. "I'm not sure what a bang involves, but I'm an old romantic. I want to be made love to. Do you know what that means?" Quivering hard dick, shaky voice, "Sex?" "Not always. Starts with touching." Unbuttoned my shirt, took my tee shirt off, then his. Pressed our chests together. I felt small next to him, and the smell of his sweat was intoxicating. "Your skin is so smooth," His hands rubbed along my back, "Beautiful man." Sitting on the bed, he very gently tried to unsnap my pants. Reached down and took the rubber band out of the safety pin and staples, "The snap was broken, then it tore." He smiled, continued. Cool air on my legs, I kicked my shoes off. In only my briefs with a huge wet spot; I could smell myself. He rubbed his face on my briefs, then took the head of my peenie in his teeth and bit gently through the fabric. Almost shot off, I was anxious, rigid and about to cry I needed to cum so much. Slipped his hands into the legs of my briefs, my knees trembled. "Don't, I'm gonna..." Too late, I was dripping on his hands, down my leg. He looked up at me and smiled, licked my cum and stood to kiss me. I didn't taste too bad. Leon never laughed, though I was chuckling with embarrassment. We lay on the bed after he undressed, "I probably need a shower." Sweat, cum, I was a soggy knot of anxiety with a hyper peenie waving around for more attention. "You smell wonderful." He kissed me, like real kissing. Tongue snaked into my mouth, damn, I was hard again. We kissed for a long time; I learned more by the moment. Skin damp, heart racing, I slid my hand to his groin. He was huge--felt as thick as the thermos in a kiddie lunch box. "Relax, let me love you." Leon did the sexiest thing ever. He told me he'd been watching me, hoping for a chance to talk to me. Waiting, waiting, then he saw me through the window of the shop. For the first time in my life someone thought I was handsome, smart, and even desirable. He held me against him, grabbing both our dicks with his hand and stroked. It was great, slippery and smelled masculine. My hips began hunching. "Slow down." "Can't." Another load jumped out; I was still hard. He swiped his fingers through the mess I'd made, "Turn on your back and open your legs. Whimpering with excitement, I rolled, lifted my knee. "Kiss me." He took his wet fingers and rubbed between my legs, came back for more juice and started working it around my hole. My breathing went wild; his other hand held my lips against his. I caught on quickly, the movements of his tongue were like what his finger was doing in my rear. Felt funny. rapped my arms around his neck, then, rolled him over to lay on his chest, resting my head at his neck. "More." I shoved my tongue in his mouth as far as I could. Think I came again while he fingered me. Something like fireworks felt like they were going off inside me. Wasn't so much a hard cum as an on-going easy cum, smooth, going on and on.... "Do you like that, sweet man?" I couldn't answer. Then, he began pressing harder, rubbing deeper. My back arched and I came hard. Another big mess. I didn't move. He pulled his fingers out and rubbed my rear. When I calmed down, "Like that?" "It'd probably be better with your--uh, peenie." "My big ol' peenie, huh?" He just kissed me, "I'll find you a butt plug." "I have a dildo." "You have sex toys?" He was surprised. "My brother found it at a musician's condo." I nestled into his chest. "I'll get you a plug. That musician may come looking for it--he may want it Bach." ... Went home that night and saw a familiar minivan in the drive, inside, I found Mom and Dad banging. They were loud; I listened carefully, there were different voices. Group bang goin' on. They didn't join a vacation club, they were swinging. Lied to again, but I'd transactionally parented: Stood in the hall and hollered, "I won't tell anyone you're screwing the Sandersons if you don't say anything about me being gay." From somewhere on the far side of a full bed, "Deal." My mother's voice called out. Used Goods Part 4 Mom recruited Dad for Sundays while she went "saleing." Saturday at five, I left work and stopped by the bakery for two fresh pastries before I went to Leon's hoping we'd have them for breakfast. Went around back to find Leon in his shorts refilling the baths. "Any new birds this week?" "Not yet." He took me in the house. "Are you hungry?" "I'm excited." We went inside. "Not yet." He brought sodas and print outs to the table by the window. Had all the listings of kinds of porn by topic. "Your Mom's still got the child filter on your computer, right?" "What computer? We only have one in the shop." "Okay. Got to learn the lingo, sweet man." When he called me "sweet man," I'd do anything. Cocks, dicks, balls, all kinds of words and I learned about all the different kinds of bangs. There was a lot I wanted to try--drew a star by those words. He laughed and started underlining his favorites. ... This was the night I learned about "the rinse." Wasn't too bad, but rinsing him was amazing. He had curly hair in his cleft, all over his butt. Showed me different kinds of lubes and condoms, explained which went with which; latex is particular and some rubbers don't have lube. "Have you been with the boys in high school? Someone in the..." He looked at my thin body, "debate club?" "Only my brother Gene... several years ago." Can't explain what happened. Almost forgot I was in my body as Leon held me, kissed me and whispered to me. Zippy shudders ran through me, I came, well several more times on us, all over the bed, us, then Leon stopped. "Don't you have to go home?" My high crashed when he asked that. Explaining the deal with my mother sent him into spasms of laughter, "The Sandersons? Ain't that a hoot! Smitty Sanderson's cock is so curved, he could screw his wife from around the corner." "How do you know?" "Some of the guys know him from the park. He likes giving head, getting a hand job in the last stall." Leon held me against him. "Hard to keep secrets in a small town." "Which park?" My ignorance piqued. "You want any action, you come over here." Leon gave me a serious look. I wanted his dick, and only got a fingering that night. We met every weekend for several months. Since my parents were very busy on the weekends, I stayed with Leon. ... The next Saturday, I finished work and headed for Leon's. Decked out in new clothes, we were going out for my birthday. Fancy restaurant, waiters scurrying around, big steaks and birthday cake. Leon got me a laptop. Sailing high that night with fizzy drinks and a toast to me! He explained age of consent, then invited me to live with him. Mellow mood broke in the truck. Odessa Police Department called. Rattled me, I turned my phone off. "Shit, the police called." "Probably a wrong number--better check." Leon prodded me. Called back on speaker. I was asked to identify myself, my home address, then asked me where I was for the evening. "With a friend at a restaurant." The investigator told me that I might have to prove it. "No problem." I glanced at Leon. "Why are you calling? Are my parents okay?" There was a fire downtown, Mom lost her entire inventory, "Do you know anyone who holds hard feelings against her?" "Not really. I think most people like her. If they don't, they ignore her." "Well, she lost everything.... Almost burned the whole block." Immediately, Leon headed downtown. The two shops that flanked the shop were in rubble. `Tiques and Treasures was seared from the planet. Blackened piles of charred bits, plumbing still stood, a few bricks. Alleyway was blocked off--must have started back there. Maybe transients, though I seldom saw any homeless people. "What do you think?" Leon asked. "Old wiring? None of us smoke." Texted Mom and Dad, they wouldn't answer a call. ... Went home that night to see Mom and Dad talking quietly in the kitchen. "You heard?" "Yep. Gonna start over?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't try to rope me into another scheme. "We're discussing that now. Sorry you lost your future. Maybe some good will come of this." Didn't feel too bad about losing my job. I wanted to stock in the campus bookstore, there was a post for a work-study student. The next week, I packed a bag and moved in with Leon. Didn't bring much, all I owned was junk to begin with. Left a note for Mom telling her I'd call her when I got a new phone. ... I didn't know much of kindness to make any comparisons in my life; I knew Leon was incredibly nice and very gentle with me, no "banging around." He wanted me to seduce him. Never had to ask me for sex, he put on his favorite jazz and waited for me to wander into the bedroom and begin undressing. Attentive audience, sheets turned down, candlelight, everything except what I wanted. He was afraid he'd hurt me; his tool was over double my constantly-rigid cock. When I was eighteen, and after almost two years of hand jobs, bjs, rubbing shafts, fingering, I wanted the big bang. Big bang, no anemic dildo, no plugs even if they vibrated. I wanted my man. All of him and it didn't come easy, "Are you afraid you can't keep it up? You don't have that problem." I asked. "I couldn't keep it up if I hurt you. We'd both be disappointed." He poured me another glass of milk, "Can't hurt my man." "We got plenty of lube." "Sweetie, I'm a bottom." Thought about negotiating a deal but dismissed it for a better plan, "Okay, I love you wherever you are." That got several kisses, fast retreat to the bedroom. Music playing, I began wiggling, cavorting around the bed trying to look sexy. He liked sucking my underwear; I tossed it to him while my hard dick bobbed to a staccato beat. He was hard--I continued prancing around shaking my butt, then leaned over and let him watch me lube my hole, "You want a little of this?" I asked. "Can't." He demurred. "Men have walked out after seeing my monster." Slipped a leg over him, sitting on his belly, determined to get some hot action. Big as a fencepost, I worked his rod at my hole. I tried; wasn't happening. Tried till my thighs were sore, only able to take about half an inch, maybe a full inch, couldn't get past his corona. Laid on his belly with him helping. My butt was burning, I was frustrated. Quickly, he opened his legs, "Since you're down there...." He smiled and I nestled my hips between his legs. Took a lot of lube to get all his hair slippery enough. "Slowly, my man." This was the way we progressed sexually, learning by hit-and-miss. His expertise and my naivete was laughable. It was about to mesh perfectly. My first touch to his hole, I felt it kiss my straining glans. Hot. Got too slippery down there, had to rearrange myself to get a grip. Aimed. Pushed. Stopped. Lay my head on Leon's chest, listening to his heartbeat going crazy. His hands rubbed my hair, neck, shoulders, back. When I heard him humming, I figured it was time. Plunge. The most incredible sensations emanated from my groin as I slipped myself deeper--better than anything I'd ever felt. Hot, wetness grasped my cock He groaned, turned his head to the side and grabbed behind his knees. That huge man curled himself tightly into a frog-like pose to get more of me. I took all I could get then more. Hot, sweaty, I pumped, now understanding brother Gene's excitement. It was great--more than great. Fantastic, and fantasies end. "Can't wait," I started cumming, muscles jerking wildly as I plowed into him. Wanted that to go on forever. Sweat flew, jizz squished, jagged streaks of pleasure and extreme sensitivity shot up my spine, flickering, sparky currents bounced around inside me in my rush to empty myself as far inside him as I could. "Don't stop." He was gasping and moaning. Squinched my eyes and pistoned into him as hard, for as long as I could, through the slipperiness between us, dripping, my balls hitting his tailbone. Not sure if I came again, but I peeked down at his chest to see Lake Leon oozing the last few shots out of his dick. He let go of his legs, they wrapped around me, pulling us together, his arms grabbed my head and he kissed me again and again. Best sex of my entire life. ... On campus, I found the classes informal--enjoyed meeting new people. Some of them knew me from "Tiques--made me cringe to think of that place. New job, new people, new information in the classes, lots of new things in my life. Most days I was on campus either in class, or working. Leon reviewed contracts for drilling companies and land owners from home. We had a good life, calm and stable. Twenty-four months passed quickly; I was excited to be in my last semester. Before my final exams, I'd already sent my resume out to several companies. Almost twenty years old, and I had the world in front of me, ready to be conquered. Rode high on my successes--not the valedictorian, but I'd made the Dean's List several times, and had the support of the bookstore manager and my professors. ... Saturdays, we cleaned the bird baths, and hosed the patio. Stopped our fun when two uniforms appeared from the side of the yard. Cops walked around the side of the house when no one answered the door. "Leon, good to see you. Miss your parents, they were good citizens--great folks." They shook hands playing the good ol' boys. One came to me, "You're Cameron Willis, right?" He took me to the side, inspecting my half-naked, wet body. He smiled. Leon wasn't a jealous man, but I saw him glance at the officer. "Why are you here? We don't have any problems in the neighborhood, do we?" They fidgeted around a little, then the older cop said something came up.... Seems my parent's garage was burned last week, "Lost their riding mower, lots of inventory, several appliances. There was that big fire a coupla years ago... we were sent out to ask if you know anything about it." "What specifically do you want to know?" Leon asked. "We're here to ask Cameron a few questions about last Friday." At that moment, I was glad Leon was a big man, he made me feel safe. Pulled my phone out to show them my calendar, "At the bookshop from nine till noon, and after that, Accounting, then to the lab till four thirty and came home." Leon signaled me to stop there. I shut up. "Alright." The one cop began, "Don't leave town without letting us know." "What do you mean? You suspect Cam had something to do with the fire?" Leon asked. "We'll let the arson department work it out." They left. All afternoon Leon was on the phone with people with friends and got the scoop. I called Mom, she was distraught, it seemed. Not too distraught to tell me they were going to move. I'd ruined her life. Didn't understand that, but Leon assured me it would work out. ... Monday morning, an insurance investigator called, wanted to meet me. "Sure--on campus between classes. I'll get a study room in the library." I followed Leon's plan perfectly and texted him every step. Meeting on neutral turf allowed me to walk out if I wanted. Leon showed up for my interview with a file of papers and his laptop. He wasn't being sneaky, but helpful. The investigator asked me a lot of questions like if I had friends, recent trauma, if I played with matches, and if I would submit to a psychiatric examination. I refused that. Then he asked about the contents of the garage. My mother didn't have any inventory at home I knew of, and a riding mower and appliances? None I'd ever seen that worked. Didn't know my parent's friends or what they were into any longer, only said they visited with friends. Things were becoming clearer. The conversation turned to the night the shop burned. Leon stepped in and asked the investigator for his email address and sent him a photo of his receipt from the fancy restaurant, suggested he ask them for a copy of their security camera on the parking lot, "We celebrated that night." He offered more information, but the investigator turned him down, "If we need any more, I'll call." As he put his recorder and papers in his attaché, "Is there anything else I should know about--anything to help me sort this out." "Nope." Shook his hand and we were done. Went home that night, called my parents, told them I'd been interviewed by an insurance company investigator, "What did you say?" Mom sounded jumpy. "I told the truth. Have they spoken with you yet?" That was a short conversation, and it got to be a nasty conversation when Mom called back. Told me if I took the rap, she wouldn't tell anyone I was a "ho-mo-sex-shul." "What?" I laughed. She wasn't burning me again. I was proud of my life with Leon, didn't care who knew. Wasn't long before Mom and Dad moved to the Huntsville area, serving ten-years. Sold their house to pay the lawyers, big stink all over Odessa. They could have hurt someone in their schemes, and I was even more proud of myself staying cool during the whole thing. ... Leon was a good bottom, or perhaps he was a subtle instructor with an avid student. There was one position I loved. It was like he was riding me, facing away but we were both on our sides. Deep, hot, he'd moan and I'd push telling him how masculine, strong he was. Learned how to seduce, make love with him and lost a lot of genetic material in the process. Side of the bed, over the seat of the truck out on the desert, in the park watching the guys come and go from the restroom, parking lot of the bar. Twenty-one years old, I felt like I had it all. Learned when I didn't try to make a trade, offer a deal, life got better. I got this new feeling called trust. Great stuff when you mix it with simply asking for what you want. Best parts of life have no substitutes, equivalents or prices, can't cut deals for love, respect and kindness. Life with Leon was a hoot-a-minute when we moved to Houston. His friends from the Highest Royal Imperial Galactic Court came by; instant friends. Why, at times I even got to bed Miss Leonyka in her red leather bra and g-string. ... Some might say Leon was used goods--he was simply born before me. That difference made a lot of humor in our lives. He always liked being admired, I gave him plenty of that after a lot of love. I needed his stability and patience and all the attention to finish growing up, learning I wasn't crap. Used Goods MCVT2017@gmail.com