Brains Over Brawn
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I arrived at Ryan's house, parked beside the maroon Saab coupe sitting in front of the garage, and walked up to the front step. I knew that the cum on my pants, fresh from my public jerk off session at the mall, was visible to anyone in line of sight, but I wasn't in a big hurry to strip naked outside Ryan's front door. Nevertheless, I stripped down; sweatshirt, khakis, socks and shoes, until all that was left was the collar around my neck. Freezing in the cold morning air, I anxiously rang the bell. I covered my crotch with my hands and turned my back -- and my bare ass -- to the door.
"Who is it?" I heard through the door after a minute that felt like an hour.
"Come on, Sir! It's Alex, and I'm freezing!" I hopped from foot to foot.
"Alex? I can't see anything but the back of someone's head," he taunted. I turned my ass back out to the world and faced the peephole. "Hey, all I see is my faggot whore," the voice said. "Who is it again?"
"It's your faggot whore, Sir!" It came out louder than I had intended, but damn it was cold. The door opened. Ryan stood there in the outfit I'd seen him wearing at the mall, but he had a Gore-Tex wind breaker over the turtleneck. He handed me my trench coat back.
"Put that on," he ordered and walked passed me. I eagerly donned the coat, both for cover and warmth. I was a bit perplexed though as Ryan walked down the driveway to the Saab. I didn't know whether to stay put or follow him until he turned to me, glared, and pointed to the driver's door. I dashed down the steps and opened the door for him. He got in and pointed to the passenger's seat. I was getting a bit worried. I wasn't dressed for an outing and the fact that Ryan was driving -- meaning I wouldn't know the destination until we arrived -- had me ill at ease.
We drove in silence until we arrived at the porn store we'd visited two days before. "Go inside and get the bag the clerk is holding under your name. Don't open the bag, and don't ask what's inside of it."
"Sir, I haven't got any money to pay for it," I reminded him. My wallet was in my pants, still on Ryan's doorstep.
"It's paid for. It's the money the guy held out Saturday when he was giving you grief about the credit card," Ryan replied. He had never taken his eyes off the road. I remembered the $150 bucks the cashier had added to my bill on my last visit, presumably a merchant fee for using a credit card plus bit more for hush money after he said his grandson knew me from soccer. I reached down to button my coat closed but Ryan saw me. "You can hold that closed. Get out and get your present!"
With growing trepidation, I opened the door and stepped out. The street wasn't particularly busy, but I felt conspicuous wearing a trench coat over my naked, shaved body, my now-smooth legs extending passed the bottom hem from mid-calf down to my bare feet, and the exposed patch of my chest where the open front flapped a bit in the breeze. I held the coat closed over my crotch by wrapping my arms tightly around my waist. I quickly ducked inside the store.
The old guy wasn't there. An androgynously dressed girl about my age, with green hair and pierced lip and nose, stood behind the register. I inwardly cringed. Add another person to the "I've been outed to" list. "I'm picking up a package," I told the girl. She looked me over with a wry smile on her face. It was like I wasn't even wearing the trench coat.
"Name?" she asked, eventually.
"Alex," I answered. She looked behind her at the brown bag on the counter. It was the only package there.
"Sorry, Alex who? I wouldn't want to give you the wrong one."
"Cheswick," I mumbled to the floor as my face flushed crimson.
"Kind of cute," she said, eyeing me again before she tauntingly licked her lips with her pierced tongue. "Too bad. From what's in that bag, I guess you wouldn't be interested." She laid the bag in front of me. I reached out and snatched it and turned for the door. When I stepped to it, the shoplifting alarm went off. I whirled around at the girl, both of us knowing the only thing I had was what was in the bag. "Sorry, Alex, I'm going to have to see what you've got in your coat."
"What? You know I don't have anything but what's in the fucking bag!" I argued.
"OK. I can call the cops and let you explain it to them," she grinned sarcastically.
Great. The cops. While I'm naked in a porn shop. "Fine," I seethed. I tossed the bag onto the counter, and the girl ignored it. She stepped from behind the counter, took a lapel in each hand, and pulled my coat open. She laughed as soon as she saw I had no body hair. I could feel every inch of my skin burning with embarrassment. My thigh, balls, and cock still showed the streaks of cum, now dry, from my mall masturbation. She reached down and stroked the smooth area between my hips, causing me to gasp and my cock to twitch.
She looked up at me coyly. "Don't worry, mine's shaved too. But, I have a pussy. You have a cock." She picked up my bag from the counter and handed it to me again but paused before her hand released it to me. "Then again, I guess you have a pussy, too, don't you, Alex?" I looked at her, my eyes wide, and then turned and fled through the door, ignoring the alarm as it sounded. I flung open the door to the Saab and fell into the seat. Ryan was laughing and said nothing as he put the car in gear and drove. I sulked silently as he made his way back to his house.
He made me surrender my coat to him on his front step when arrived at his house. He wouldn't even unlock the door until I was stark naked, wearing nothing but the thin leather collar around my neck. "Upstairs. Now!" he ordered as soon as we crossed the threshold. He carried the brown bag we'd just finished collecting. On entering his room, he put the package on his desk and turned to face me.
"You've gotten off this morning. Do you feel better?" I nodded my answer to his question. He scowled and I remembered.
"Yes Sir, I feel better now that I've cum, Sir," I answered aloud.
"Wasn't it nice of me to allow you some relief?" he asked.
"Yes Sir, thank you, Sir," I responded, looking down to my feet.
"I'm feeling generous today. Maybe it's the Christmas season. All those corny carols playing at the mall, and all those merry, milling shoppers. I think that I'm going to give you a chance to earn a fuck this morning, too." He reached over and raised my chin with his hand until our eyes met. I looked at him blankly. "If you earn it, that is."
We stared at each other for a minute or so as I awaited my orders. I was wondering why he wasn't telling me what to do to earn his cock in my ass when he tilted his head and cocked his eyebrows expectantly. My eyes widened as I realized he wasn't going to give me an order, he was waiting for me to take the initiative. He wanted me to come up with some way to earn being fucked. As I looked at his face, I felt something inside me give. I didn't know what it was, and I think I only subconsciously felt it at the time. I lifted my hands to his head, and his face registered surprise as his head jerked back in an instinctively defensive maneuver. Gently, I took his glasses between my fingers near his temples and slid them from behind his ears. I carefully folded them and laid them on his desk.
When I looked back to his face, there was still a look of puzzlement and surprise. I felt my tongue softly wet my lips and my hands went to the tail of his turtleneck. I pulled the soft lambswool up his sides and he wordlessly raised his arms over his head so I could slip it off. I repeated the process with his white undershirt while his arms remained up. I dropped them both carelessly on the floor and my eyes were drawn to the pale yellow flesh of his torso. Without thinking, I began to slowly brush the back of my fingers up over this stomach to his chest with one hand while the other gently rested on his hip above the crest of his jeans.
It was as if I'd lost all conscious control over my body. I was standing there, naked, all but hairless, but I felt warm inside as this unseen force directed my movement. I moved in towards him and wrapped my arms behind him as my mouth closed on his. He stood rigid for a moment, and then I felt the heat of his body as he pressed into me. His bare chest against mine as I felt his lips open and his tongue brush mine. His hands went to my hips as I molded myself against him, and my hands began to move over his smooth, hot back. There was almost no part of my brain that felt conscious or alert, but somewhere I recognized the intense warmth Ryan's body was generating. I'd never touched anyone whose skin felt so warm to the touch.
I broke the kiss and my mouth moved to his neck. I kissed him there as my hands fell to the mounds of his ass. I could feel his cock rising, so I reached between us to grope him through the denim that covered it. By the looseness of the material and the freedom with which his package could move inside it, I could tell he wasn't wearing underwear and for some reason this intensified my passion. My lips moved down to one of his firm, pink nipples, and I flicked my tongue over it before taking it inside my mouth. I gently raked my teeth over it, alternately sucking and licking as I had done to girls a dozen times. My hands were at the button of his jeans, then at his fly, then pulling the waistband down over the curve of his ass and the length of his thighs, passed his knees.
I kissed my way softly down to his navel, which I worshipped with my tongue and lips, as I feel to my knees in front of him. His jeans were puddled at his ankles as I tilted my face to his to see him watching me intently, but there was something in his eyes, something on his brow beneath the gentle wave of his blond bangs, that looked unsettled, discontent. I looked up at him, eyes pleading for permission as my face and the head of his cock were separated by inches. His approval wasn't forthcoming. I could almost see the wheels and cogs of his brain whirling. He was too distracted by his thoughts to give in to me, so I boldly took the shaft of his cock in one hand and, while firmly stroking it, leaned in and under to lap at his sack with my tongue.
I heard him draw in a deep, ragged breath as I sucked his balls into my mouth. I ran my tongue over the salty skin, breathing in the erotic musk of his crotch. I alternated between running my tongue over every inch of his scrotum and rolling each nut around in my mouth. All the while, I stroked his shaft, never touching the head, just firmly gripping his thick cock at the base, then running my hand back and forth over the length to the flared, purple ridge. I pulled away from his sack and stuck my tongue out, barely brushing over the head of his cock while I held it still with my hand. His hips pulled back from the stimulation and he jumped.
"On the bed," he muttered hoarsely. "On your hands and knees." I leapt to my feet and assumed the position as instructed. I saw his hand go for the bottle of lube on the shelf-like headboard, heard the top pop open, and soon felt the cold goo on his finger as it smeared over my hole. In a flash he was behind me, one hand just below my navel as the other lined up his cock. He sank into me in one fluid motion, not a harsh thrust as much as a familiar and determined sheathing of his dick into my ass. Like a sword into a scabbard. I moaned softly as the craving for his cock was sated. My guts were like a perfect glove for his rod as it slid home inside me. As his pubes hit my cheeks, I heard him sigh hard above me. As he began to withdraw, I felt his mouth on the back of my neck. He kissed me with his lips, then with his tongue, as he continued fucking his cock into and out of me.
He had developed a slowly accelerating rhythm, each thrust firm and eager, each withdrawal slow and reluctant. We both knew that the place for his cock was deep inside me. We both knew that that's where it felt best, both for me and for him. On one thrust, he rammed in particularly hard and as I cried out in surprise, I felt his teeth close on the tender flesh where my neck met my shoulder, just at the collarbone. He nipped there and at the back of my neck as he fucked me, one hand still pressing against my abs under my navel.
The feeling of his fucking was sheer ecstacy, the length of his thick cock sliding first in and then out of my tight sphincter, the ring of muscle seemingly attuned to each vein, craving each pulse. His cockhead plowed into my soft, velvety ass, each time bluntly brushing my prostate. I was writhing, my cock hard and drooling, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to my skin he punctuated the silence with an occasional, animal grunt or elicited from me a primal moan of lust. His thighs frequently slapped against mine or I would feel the inertia of his balls swing his sack up against the spot between my ass and my own balls.
I yelped as I felt the first slap. His cock was buried completely inside me and his free hand connected with my nuts, drawn tightly up to my crotch. It wasn't a hard strike, and there was no sharp pain, but it caused my cock to twitch, my abs to tighten, and most importantly, my ass clenched hard around his cock as he slid it back from within my depths. I could feel the warm, dull ache deep in my gut as he punched his dick back into me. Then came another slap, and more tightening around his cock. I realized that he was feeling my instinctive response not only around his cock, but he could feel my abs rippling with the hand he pressed under my navel. He incorporated this into his rhythm, each time his cockhead was at its deepest inside me, he slapped my nuts, making me milk him hard on his outstroke.
I was too wrapped up in the erotic haze to appreciate the calculation of those slaps. Never enough to cause sharp pain, never enough to seriously hurt me, just enough to cause that dull ache and produce the primative muscular response. It had been painful at first, more from the surprise I think, but as the sexual endorphins enveloped my senses and as the repetition set in, I felt myself becoming immersed in the sensation. The ache was a complement to the feeling of his cock so deep inside me.
His climax, when it came, came too soon. I had begun to feel like a sailor on the tropic sea, being rocked by gentle waves of lust and pain and pleasure, a haze of heat and desperation. His orgasm was no surprise, because he began grunting loudly and regularly, then calling out to me. "Fuck, Alex, fuck! God damn it, I'm fucking my senior jock whore! Fuck! I'm going to blow my load inside your ass! Your ass is milking my fucking rod, you want it so bad, you slut!" He closed his fist around my nuts, not clenching, but enough to let me know it was there, and he rammed his cock deep inside me as it began to pump his seed. He held himself there, panting silently as he unloaded into me. When it was over, he fell limp over my back.
"Get down and turn over," he ordered. I rolled and lay down on my back, and he fell on top of me. As his crotch pressed into mine, I could feel my lower abs spasming from the abuse he'd inflicted on my nuts as he had fucked me. The muscles there and in my sphincter were in overdrive, twitching and convulsing. My ass was empty, and I could feel the warm, wet cum beginning to ooze down into my crack. He was covered in sweat and his mouth came to mine as he propped himself up on his elbows. I felt like I was being devoured as he kissed me, and our tongues grappled in my mouth. At last he lowered himself, exhausted, onto my chest. I could feel his heart racing as his breastbone rested on mine. He was breathing deeply, and I thought he might fall asleep on top of me.
I gently rested my hands on his shoulder blades and rolled him onto his back. I curled myself against him, my head on his chest, as he caught his breath and his heartbeat returned to normal. I found my hands softly stroking his inner thighs, then up, over his stomach, and back down. I looked at his shrinking cock, wet with his cum and lube. Without thinking, I moved my mouth to it and took it in. It tasted somewhat more bitter than after a blow job, no doubt from my ass, but it didn't taste filthy or unclean as I removed his cum and the lube. He gasped when he felt my tongue on his sack, and I slowly kissed my way over his stomach to his chest.
"Why are you doing that?" he asked, and I looked up with a start. "You've already earned your fuck." He was looking at me with the same clouded, confused look he had given me earlier.
"I don't know," I answered sincerely. "It's just felt like something I wanted to do."
"But when you were doing it earlier, you were just doing it to get me hot to fuck you," he said.
"I don't think I was even thinking about that," I told him.
He was looking at me skeptically. "Jerk off," he told me. My cock was raging. I'd gotten off at the mall not two hours earlier, but the fucking had definitely gotten me up again. I didn't need to be told twice. I reached down, grabbed my cock, and started pounding. It didn't take more than a minute or two to get to the edge. "Catch your cum in your hand," he ordered as he watched me and saw the signs of my approaching orgasm. With a loud cry, I felt my cum boil up from my abused balls and shoot out of my throbbing cock into my waiting hand. As I lay there, panting in the afterglow of my climax, I felt Ryan take my wrist, move my cum filled hand to my face, and begin smearing my juice all over my face and hair with my own hand. I felt the coating of slime cover my cheeks, nose and forehead, even my eyelids.
"That looks about right for a cock slut," Ryan smirked. "Now keep your eyes closed, because it's time for your surprise. No peeking!"
With that, I heard the rustling of paper. In a minute, I felt Ryan's hands on my balls and softened cock, manipulating them with a cold, hard object. He was pulling first my balls and then my cock through a ring and then sliding it tightly up to my crotch. Then I felt something else on my cock, also cold and hard, sliding up around it, and then I heard a sharp click. "There," I heard Ryan say in a satisfied tone. I opened my eyes and looked down to see my cock locked inside a plastic cage. I clear plastic ring, like a cock ring, was firmly against my crotch, and through it Ryan had pulled my balls and my cock. Then, he had taken the plastic cage, a series of rings that progressively narrowed and were connected by short, plastic rods, slid it over my cock, and locked it to the base ring. My balls were trapped loosely between the cockring-like base, and the ring around the root of my cock that locked to it. I couldn't slip the cage off my cock without ripping my balls off.
"What the fuck is that?!" I yelled.
"It's a chastity device, Alex. It's called a CB-2000. I decided you needed one after you told me that you almost disobeyed my order not to ejaculate without my permission, and that I would never have known that you had if you did. Now, quite simply, you can't. Not without me knowing. If you do, you either have to cut off the lock, here," he said, pointing to the small padlock that held my cock trapped, "or cut the plastic rods or rings. Either of which would be very obvious.
"The best thing about this particular device, compared to its competitors, is that it allows you to go to the bathroom and shower, and do all the other things you might want to do without calling and pestering me. The only thing you can't do is jerk off. Oh, it might be a little obvious under your clothes, I guess, since the cock ring kind of lifts your cock and balls up and out. I'm sure that if you're not comfortable with that, you could wear a jock strap. That might help mold everything back down."
I jumped off the bed. "Take it off! Come on, I can't wear this thing! How long are you going to keep me from jacking off anyway?"
"You will wear it, Alex, until I take it off of you. Unless you break yourself free, like I said. But you know what the consequences of that will be. No more cock. Not from me. No more to suck. No more up your ass. None." He smiled wickedly. "Of course, you know you can break it off anytime. Be careful, though, you wouldn't want to damage yourself. If you decide you can't take celibacy, that's your choice. Just take it off. It won't matter to me, as long as you never call me again and you never expect me to satisfy your cock slut needs. If you take it off, and I ever hear from you again, your DVD goes public."
I looked down at the contraption locking my dick. I was adjusting to the new weight and closeness. It wasn't uncomfortable it was just unusual. And a little heavy, mainly from the padlock I guess. He said I could go to the bathroom in it, and I guess the open spaces between the rods would easily accommodate that, and it was plastic, so I could shower it in. It wouldn't be that much of a restriction on my life, really, except that it would be there. I would have given him ownership and control over my dick. It would be his, and every minute that I wore this device would be a minute that I conceded his authority over me.
I could feel his cum leaking out of my ass, which was still throbbing from his earlier fuck. I'd just cum, and already I missed his cock inside me. I missed lying on the bed with him, the smell of him, his warmth, the smoothness of his soft skin. I looked up at him and resigned myself to my fate. I would let him control my cock. I already let him control my ass, my mouth, my dignity. I'd give him this, too, because I needed him in ways I couldn't understand. I was gay. I was Ryan's fuck toy. And I knew it.
Ryan had been watching, and he recognized the signs of my mental surrender. "Good," he said. "I see you've come to terms with this. Now get out of my house. Your punishment for calling me by name is that you don't get to clean yourself up. You can drive home with cum all over your face, and in your hair, and leaking from your ass. You can think about how embarrassed you feel under all the looks and stares of the drivers in the cars you pass, and evaluate which is more intolerable, being a cum soaked whore or calling me Sir. Now go," he ordered.
My mouth fell open with the shock. Cum was all over my face, still drying, and in my hair. I'd reek of mansex when I got home -- at least my parents were still at work -- and anyone who saw me at a stop light would be able to see the signs of my station. Cum whore. Faggot slut. Ryan's face was unyielding, and I knew better to argue. I shuffled out of his room, down the stairs, and onto the doorstep. I mechanically put on my clothes, descended to the car, got in, and began the trip home.