WARNING

This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage where ever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional, the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.

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Craigslist-->Help Wanted-->Houseboy

 

Great opportunity here for the right guy.

 

I'm a good-looking, discreet 38yo masculine professional. I'm looking for a good-looking, single jock. You should be in very good shape, clean-cut, and between the ages of 18-22. Open to different possibilities.

 

You must be a good cook, and able to efficiently clean a house. You must also like to travel, and be highly organized, as you will manage my schedule. Sexual orientation is not an issue for me, and should not be one for you; there will be sexual responsibilities. In order to be happy in this position, you must be both sexually adventurous and submissive. Corporal punishment will be applied for misbehavior. No drugs.

 

Ideal candidate will be a high-school graduate, no more than 5'7" tall. Asian a plus. Students welcome.

 

The right candidate will receive room and board, health insurance and a generous salary.

 

If interested, please do the following:

 

1. Tell me a little bit about yourself, your background, your experience, what you're looking for.

 

2. Send a picture, at least a face pic, and face with body attached preferably.

 

3. Make sure "houseboy" is in the subject line of your email.

 

I will get back to all serious inquiries.

 

 

Thanks

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My ad, now three days old, had generated about a dozen responses, all unsuitable. Some are older than I want. Some are dating -- unavailable. Some are just not very attractive -- to me. Many are hustlers.

Then he calls.

"Hi. I'm...umm...responding to your Craigslist ad." There was the faintest trace of an accent, but I couldn't tell from where.

"Hi. What's your name?"

"Jason," he responds, after a few seconds.

"Hi, Jason. How old are you?"

"I'm 19."

"And, where do you live?"

"I'm in Mountain View." He sounds nervous.

I'd included both a phone number and an e-mail address in the ad. I was expecting that the first contact would be an e-mail. Jason's the first one who's elected to call first, which I think is interesting. Slightly more pro-active than the rest, although less convenient.

"So, Jason, tell me a little about yourself."

He pauses. "I graduated from St. Francis last year. I'm 5'6" tall and weigh 110 pounds. I like to read, bicycle, skateboard and play tennis. I'm in pretty good shape, I think. I run, and lift weights. Oh, and I like to cook."

"What's your sexual preference, Jason?"

"My sexual..."

"Are you gay, straight, bi?"

He paused. "I'm not really sure. I haven't had much experience..."

"Are you a virgin?" I say this with absolutely no inflection. This is not a judgment question.

Long pause. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Okay. So, why do you think this job would be right for you?"

"Well, I really need a job. I need to get out of my parents' house. I don't want to flip burgers. I'd like to go to college some day, but I'd like to do something that makes me feel useful. And, then, your ad...umm...sort of...umm...mentioned...umm...sexual duties that...umm...sound interesting."

This boy sounds interesting. I try to sound even and calm, a little chirpy. "Okay. Why don't we meet for an interview? You say you're in Mountain View?"

"Yeah."

"Where's the nearest coffee shop?"

"Umm...I don't know. There's a Peet's at Town and Country Village in Palo Alto."

"Yeah, I know it. Can we meet there tomorrow?"

"Okay. What time?"

"How about 10am?"

"Okay. 10am at Peet's at Town and Country. Great. I'll see you then." He sounds happy. Hopeful. We hang up. This is either going to be a triumph, or a total waste of time. I should have asked him for a picture first. I should have asked him about the accent. Shit. I didn't even set up the meeting. How would I know who the hell Jason was? Oh, well...

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I arrive at Peet's a little before 10am, and look around for someone who looks 19. No one. I get in line to order. Just as I reach the head of the line, a rather petit Asian guy comes in, looking around as though hoping to find someone. He is a knockout! About 5'6", straight dark hair, round face with high cheekbones, single-fold eye-lids, and perfect, creamy skin. After looking around for a few seconds, he gets in line. I order my coffee, and move to the creamer station to give it a blast of half-and-half. Then, I move to the end of the line, just behind this very cute Asian guy.

"Excuse me, but I'm expecting to meet someone here, someone I don't know. Is your name Jason?"

He turns abruptly. "Yes. Did we speak yesterday?"

"I sure hope so," I say with a laugh. "I was such an idiot. I didn't make any arrangements for how we'd meet or recognize each other. I'm Tim." I extend my hand, and he takes it, shaking. "I'm going to find us a table outside. Get your drink, and then we can talk." He's all smiles, and has dazzlingly white teeth, made to look all the whiter by his dazzlingly bronze complexion. He is gorgeous.

I grab the table furthest from the door and wait, sipping my coffee. In about five minutes, Jason emerges from the coffee shop, looks around, spies me, and hurries to the table. He's dressed in faded jeans, a white De Young Museum t-shirt, and orange sneakers. His left ear is pierced and he wears two small, silver hoops and a puka-shell necklace. Jesus Christ!

He sits and smiles.

"So, just to be clear," I say, "you're interested in the job I advertised on Craigslist."

"Yes." He smiles.

"The `Houseboy'."

"Yes."

"Great. So, let me describe myself and what I'm looking for. I'm an entrepreneur living in San Jose. I write software, and I do that from an office in my house. Game software mostly. This is stuff that you're going to run on an Iphone or a PDA. I write this software whenever I'm awake, which is unpredictable. My hours are erratic. I've never been able to sleep through the night, so I get up at odd hours and work. So, I need someone who will cook and clean for me, but those are the least important duties." I smile.

Jason nods, sipping his tea.

"Before I go on about myself, why don't you tell me what your interests are."

He looks confused, but dives in. "I want to go to college. I want to start living on my own. I've lived my entire life with my parents. It's time for me to move on. I've tried modeling, and enjoyed it, but it's not something I want to do long term and, frankly, in this country the demand for Asian models is pretty finite. I'm interested in computers and programming. I'm fascinated with gaming, and am really interested in what you do. Other than that, I like to ski, play tennis and skate."

"Okay." I pause. "Who are you sexually?" I pause. He looks confused. Too open-ended a question. "Here's the deal -- I'm gay. I don't care whether you're gay or straight, but if I hire you, one of the things you'll have to do is have sex with me. Is that a problem?"

He pauses. "No," he replies.

"Do you know what you are?"

He pauses. "No," he replies. "As I said, I haven't really had enough experience to know for sure. I have no philosophical or religious bias against homosexuality, though."

"Okay." I pause. "When you jerk off, what do your fanaticize about?"

He looks embarrassed.

"I'm trying to figure out whether we're going to work well together. If you work for me, I'm gonna want to fuck you. Is that going to be a problem?"

He pauses. "No, I don't think so."

"And I may want to spank you, and worse."

He pauses, sips his tea, thinks. "I see what you're asking. I chose your ad from about ten that were out there for "home services" because I found it erotic, not overtly sexual, but certainly erotic. I don't know what I like, but your ad excited me. I was spanked as a child, and while I'd never admit this to my parents, I like it. It wasn't so much the pain that I liked -- although that was part of it -- but I liked submitting to someone more powerful than me. I liked giving up control of my body to someone else. I'd like to try that with someone other than my father." He laughs. "I'd like to try that in a sexual context.

Bingo. I've hit the jackpot.

Trying to sound measured and calm. "Okay, so here it is. If you work for me, I'll want you to live with me. I'll provide room and board. Actually, you'll provide the board because you'll do the cooking. I'll want you naked when you're in the house. Actually, I'm naked most of the time as well, so you won't feel too much out of place. But, if company comes over, you may find yourself naked while everyone else is clothed. Embarrassing? Probably, but that's how it is. When you're in the house, you're naked. End of discussion. Infractions and misbehavior will be punished by spankings and other forms of corporal punishment, some of it pretty sexualized. I will enjoy causing you pain. In some cases, I'll punish you with no provocation. If you refuse me anything I ask, you'll be fired. But I will never do anything to you that will cause injury or long term damage. In return, you'll get room and board, a salary of $1500 a month, and college tuition -- and if your grades aren't all A's, you'll be punished. Oh, you'll also have the use of a car."

He's stunned. He's holding his cup somewhere midway between the table and his mouth. He sets it down, slowly, his mind reeling. "College tuition to where," he asks, dazed?

"Anywhere you want to go. Anywhere you get accepted. Stanford, UC, San Francisco State. Wherever."

He's aghast.

"Don't think this will be easy. There will be a lot of work and a lot of pain. I will cause you pain. But, as sexually ambivalent as you are, I will also give you a great deal of pleasure, a great deal of sexual gratification. How often do you jerk off?"

He pauses, and then stammers. "Umm... I don't really..."

"Bullshit. Everyone jerks off. How often?"

He blushes. "Couple of times a day."

"Has anyone every gotten you off? Have you had any sexual experience with anyone else, female or male?"

"No."

"Well, you will now. No masturbation allowed on this job. If you work for me, you will be responsible for my sexual gratification, and I'll be responsible for yours, getting you off as often as you want -- as long as your obedient. If you misbehave, I reserve the right to withhold sex."

I pause. Maybe what we need is `A Day in the Life'. Come to my place tomorrow, and we'll play `A Day in the Life'. You can see what this new life will be like, and we can get a better sense of whether we're compatible. Okay?"

He looks intrigued. "Okay."

I give him my card, and we agree on 9am as a start time. I prepare to leave.

"You're very pretty, Justin. I've never been especially attracted to Asian guys before, but I am especially attracted to you. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

I think he's blushing, though his beautiful bronze complexion hides it.

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At 9:00am on the button the doorbell rings. Looking through the peep-hole, I see that it's Jason, and open the door with a smile. He, too, smiles as he comes in. We hug, and as I let him go, I'm amazed at what comes next -- he begins taking off his clothes, folding them, and laying them neatly in the chair by the door. Having left his shoes outside -- a very Asian gesture -- he discards his socks, t-shirt, tennis shorts, underwear, and is soon naked, standing in my entryway. Sensing my surprise, he says "You said I was to be naked in the house at all times, right?"

"Right," I smiled. "Let me show you around."

Let me say here and now that he is just beautiful. Yesterday he was pretty. Today he's gorgeous. He is by no means skinny. At 5'6", he has a very compact build, meaty but not fat. He'd mentioned that he works out regularly, and that's evident because he's very well toned, very muscular, but not muscle-bound. And, of course, that beautiful skin. I'm very turned on by really beautiful skin, and his is bronze and stunning, and because he's essentially hairless -- the only body hair his pubic bush and underarms -- I'm free to admire at my leisure. In fact, I guess I've admired it a little too much, because he becomes self-conscious, moving his hands to cover his genitals.

"I'm sorry. I'm staring. I'm very impressed that you remembered to get naked on this first visit. I'm impressed that you're serious enough to want to make this first day a real test of our compatibility, a real "test-drive." I want my houseboys to be naked because I want them to remember the hierarchy of power within the house, and because they are -- you are -- very attractive. I want to admire them. So, please don't cover yourself like that. I want you to be naked, and to feel naked and vulnerable."

He smiles and drops his hands to his side.

I show him around the house -- kitchen, TV room, living room, back yard with the sauna and large lap pool, my bedroom, and finally the room that will be his if he's hired. His room has a desk and relatively new computer, as well as a very narrow twin bed and dresser. "This is where I'll sleep," he muses.

"No. You'll never sleep here. This isn't really a bed," I laugh, lifting the spread, showing him four flimsy wooden legs attached to a piece of ply wood. "This is a prop," chuckling. "When I first came out, I was living with a closet-case who told his parents that I was living in his second bedroom until my place was re-modeled. Trouble is, when they peeked in the second bedroom one day, there was no bed in there. It was an office. He was instantly out."

"You'll either sleep with me, or in the punishment room downstairs, when you've really pissed me off." This doesn't seem to phase him, except that

his dick fills out a bit. The last room I take him to is the basement, which contains a washer and dryer and the punishment room, containing an array of paddles, floggers and other equipment hanging on the wall, as well as a table with restraining straps for the arms, legs and torso. The look on his face is one of amazement, though not, I think, of fear. He's wide-eyed.

"What happens here?"

"You get punished."

He nods, slowly. His dick has plumped-up further, almost fully erect.

"Have you ever had fantasies about punishment," I ask him?

He nods, slowly. "I told you that I like to be spanked. I've had other fantasies involving...umm...other forms of...umm...punishment."

"Good. We'll have to explore those when you're more comfortable with me. You need to understand that if you take this job you will be subject to my sexual whims, and that implies a great deal of vulnerability, and while there will be considerable pain, I will never do anything to you that will cause any kind of permanent damage. You will be safe with me. I promise you that."

He nods, still gazing at all the stuff hanging on the wall, still gazing at the restraining table. He's fully erect, now, and embarrassed, but doesn't try to cover the erection. He just blushes, his penis bouncing up and down as we walk upstairs.

We sit down in the kitchen. "That's the house. What do you think?"

"Really beautiful. Will I be allowed to use the pool?"

"Of course. And there's also a small gym in the basement that I forgot to show you. It's got weights, a tread-mill, and a couple of other exercise machines. I'll expect you to keep in shape." I smile.

This boy is hard for me to read. There's a foreignness to him that I can't quite penetrate. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but I really have no idea. "What do you think so far?"

"It's a lot to take in," he says, honestly. "What would a typical day look like? What would I do?"

"Well, as I said, my hours are totally unpredictable. I might wake up at midnight, at 4am, or any time, and I usually start working as soon as I wake up. I would expect you to start your day at around 6am, making coffee and breakfast for both of us. After breakfast, you'll attend to household chores -- dusting, cleaning, laundry -- for a couple of hours, as well as attending to my schedule and various other clerical responsibility, ultimately making our lunch at around noon. After lunch, it's likely I'll want to fuck you, so we may have to go to bed for a couple of hours, and then, just before dinner is when I typically take care of any punishment you will have earned. Then, of course, dinner and an evening of music, videos, movies, maybe hitting the dance clubs -- some form of entertainment."

He's very pensive, thinking hard. "What else can I tell you," I ask. "What concerns do you have?" I know exactly what's worrying, and want him to surface that.

"Well...umm...I'm a little concerned about the pain part..." Good for you, I think to myself. "Obviously, it excites me. Your dungeon had my...umm...had me pretty hard."

I snaugh.

"I'm just not sure how much pain I can take."

"I think you'll be fine. Again, I'll never do anything that will damage you, or anything that goes beyond the limits of what I think you can take. Over time we may want to expand those limits, but that's something that will indeed be over time. Pain, for me, is mostly a control thing rather than about the discomfort involved. If you work for me, you will never be in control, so a real desire for submission is the most important thing. But you said you were into that, right?"

"Yes, I am."

"Great. I'm into dominance. I expect to basically own your body, and your mind, and I will do things that express that ownership. That might be a spanking, that might be an enema, or that might be something as simple as fondling your dick in front of guests. Your nakedness in the house is an expression of that ownership; it's something you will have no control of. Ultimately, if you're truly submissive, there's every chance that we'll fall in love. That's my desired outcome. I want to fall in love with my houseboy. And I want for you to love me. What do you want? Are you looking for something more than money? Because, if you're not, this job is probably not the best choice you could make. There're a lot of things you can do just to make money that'll be a lot easier than this."

"Yeah, I know. As I said, I answered your Craigslist ad mostly because it excited me. And, I'm still excited, frankly," he said, glancing down at his half-erect dick and smiling. I'm just trying to figure out whether...umm...I'll be able to perform."

I snaugh again, and he chuckles. Smiling, "What can I do to reassure you?"

He looks at the floor and blushes deeply behind bronze skin. "Could you...umm..." Long pause.

"What," I ask?

"Would you mind...umm...fucking me...umm...so I know what that's like? And also...umm...could you spank me?"

He surprises me. I didn't think we'd get to this today. I'm impressed.

"Yup. We can do both those things. Which first?"

He thinks. "I think the spanking should be first, because I think it'll get me excited.

I smile. "Sure. A couple of question, first. Are you seriously interested in the job? I'm certainly willing to `audition', but I'd like to get a sense of how interested you are because my hopes are running pretty high right now."

He smiles. "I'm really interested. I'll be ready to make a decision today. You seem very nice and...umm...exciting."

I smile, relieved. "Next: where were you born?"

He looks confused...and a little worried.

"I'm intrigued by the accent. I'm usually pretty good at accents, but yours is so slight that I can't place it, and you speak English like a native."

"I'm from Hong Kong originally. Although I've been here since I was three, we speak Mandarin at home." He pauses, and smiles. "I honestly didn't know I had an accent."

"Yeah, it's pretty faint. I'm very sensitive to speech patterns, though. I've done several simulations for computer games. I have a pretty good ear. So, do you cook mostly Chinese food, or other stuff as well?"

"I do cook a lot of Chinese dishes, like my mother taught me. Some Vietnamese and Thai. I've been broadening my range with Italian and some Mexican. Anything with garlic and chili peppers," he laughs. "Umm..." worried "do you like garlic and chili peppers?"

"Oh, yeah. The spicier the better." He sighs, relieved.

"Okay," I say, getting up from the kitchen table. "Let's get you spanked and fucked. First, though, if you're really serious about the job..."

"I am really serious."

"Okay. Wanna do something else that'll give you a taste of life as my houseboy?"

He looks a little confused, but nods.

"Great." I take him to the bathroom, the largest of the three, attached to my bedroom. I motion him to sit on the counter while I collect an electric hair clipper, a disposable razor, shaving cream and a wash cloth. All of these I place on the counter next to him.

"That's gotta go," I say, pointing to his pubic bush. "And also the hair under your arms. You're so beautiful, Jason, and your skin is perfect; I want you smooth at all times. As I told you, if you take this job, I'll expect to basically own your body, and I'll do things that express that ownership. Are you okay with this?"

He doesn't miss a beat. He smiles. "If this is what you want, I'm fine with it." I think we may have just sealed the deal.

I get him to stand on a stool, place a towel between his legs to catch the hair, plug in the clippers, and mow his bush, moving next to his underarms. I ask him to turn, and spread his butt cheeks, but they're hairless, as is the rest of his body. I get him to turn again, apply a generous coating of menthol shaving cream (which clearly excites him) and begin shaving away the stubble.

"Do you shave, Jason?"

He looks confused.

"Sorry. Your face. Do you shave your face?"

He smiles. "No. I don't have any beard. My father doesn't either. Some stereotypes are actually true. The stereotype of Asians as being basically hairless, in my case, is true. You're removing the only body hair I have," he said, chuckling. "Please don't shave my head, though. I paid a lot for this haircut, and I don't think I'd look good bald."

I smile up at him. "Agreed."

I move next to his underarms, shaving them clean. Rinsing off the residual shaving cream, I stand back to get the full effect. He is gorgeous, and looks about 14. "If you accept the job, you'll need to do this daily, I imagine. It's all in the front, though, so it shouldn't be a big deal."

He turns and looks at himself in the large mirror on the wall behind him. "Wow! That does look better, hunh? I look a lot younger, don't I?"

"Umm...yeah."

"Was that the point?"

"Not exactly. It's another control thing," I say, reaching out and fondling his dick. He's surprised, galvanized by my touch, but does nothing to stop me.

"Let's get you spanked."

I lead him to the basement and have him lie face down on the table, his cock and balls dangling through a hole in the middle. I attach the straps to his wrists, arms, ankles, thighs and, finally, across the middle of his back. The only thing he can move is his head.

"So, how would you like to be spanked?"

He looks confused.

"There really isn't a `typical' spanking, and I assume that's what you're looking for. Spankings are a result of misbehavior. The severity is a result of the `crime.' What crime do you have in mind? What are you paying for?"

He thinks a minute.

"What's a minor crime?"

"Something like not doing the dishes after dinner, or forgetting a chore."

"And what would be the punishment for that?"

"Probably four strokes with the razor strop."

"What's a major crime?"

"Masturbation. Cumming without permission."

"And the punishment?"

"Twelve strokes with the razor strop, and six with the cane."

"My crime's masturbation," he says, calmly.

"Are you sure?" I'm incredulous. "You won't even have enjoyed the fruits of your crime. You want that much pain the first time out?"

"I need to know what this feels like. I need to know how bad this can be."

"But, this isn't realistic. You're not going to misbehave enough to deserve this much punishment. I'm really afraid to scare you away with this much punishment. I've started to like you. I've started to hope that you'll take the job."

"I need to know how bad it can be."

I sigh. "Okay, but if it's too much for you, you let me know and we'll stop."

"No," he says, quietly. "No matter what I say, I want all twelve strokes of the razor strop, and all six strokes of the cane. Really. Even if I beg, I need to know how much pain I might take at any given time. If you won't do this, then I'm afraid I'll have to refuse the job, and, by the way, I really want this job, just so you know.

I look at him, very worried. This could be the last I see of this very attractive, sweet boy.

Shaking my head, I take the razor strop off the wall. It's about three inches wide, inch thick, and two feet long. I like razor strops because they provide a lot of sting without too much physical damage. Moving back to the table, I touch his ass for the first time. So smooth. Standing back, I swing the strop and bring it down hard across his ass cheeks. He gasps. I strike again, and again he gasps. He doesn't bruise easily, and it isn't until the fourth stroke that he begins to show much redness. On the sixth stroke, his breathing becomes ragged. On the eighth stroke, I can see tears beginning to pool up in his eyes. On the twelfth stroke, he's crying softly. His ass is red, but not bruised. I return the razor strop to its hook and grab a thin, whippy plastic cane. Returning to the table, I apply the first three strokes to his reddened ass. He's sobbing now, his nose snotty. Two more strokes and he's twitching, waiting for the last blow. Glancing under the table, I see that his dick is hard and oozing, throbbing to the beat of his heart. Interesting. I apply the last blow, and catch him in the crease of his legs. He screams.

Returning the cane to the wall, I grab a tube of topical ointment, and gently spread some on his crimson ass. He's still crying, but, reaching beneath the table, he's hard as a rock. I stroke his dick, slowly, and he begins to calm down.

"You okay," I ask him?

He nods, catching his breath.

"Did that convince you not to take the job," I ask, nervous?

He shakes his head, swallowing hard, trying to get control of himself, as I release the straps that bind him. "No," he finally says, turning to one side, sitting up, cringing as his ass makes contact with the surface of the table. "It just reminded me that I like to be spanked," he says, caressing his rampant dick.

"So, does that mean that it's time to get you fucked," I ask, smiling, still looking concerned?

He laughs, wiping away the tears. "I guess that's what it means."

I help him off the table, and before we go upstairs, I hug him. He hugs me back.

"If you decide to take this job, I'll consider your body to be my property, and will not feel compelled to ask permission to touch you. For the moment, though, you're a free agent. So, let me ask you: may I kiss you?"

He looks surprised. "Yes, please."

He looks up, into my eyes, and I move my lips to his, kissing him gently at first, then more passionately. His dick is poking me in the thighs. We kiss for several minutes, and then I completely surprise him by lifting him into my arms and carrying him up the stairs and into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, I lay him gently on the bed, and then begin to undress. I'm in very good shape, working out daily with weights and cardio. I'm 5'11" tall, and weigh in at 160 pounds. I have well defined abs and pecs, muscular thighs and calves, and glutes I'm really proud of. I've worked hard. I don't drink or smoke, and have been a vegetarian for years. So, my complexion is pretty good and my hair blond and bushy. By the time I'm naked, Jason is at full attention.

Taking a bottle of lotion from the night stand, I ask Jason to turn over on his stomach, and place a pillow under him to elevate his butt. "We're going to take this really slow because anal sex can be pretty painful the first few times, and I want you to enjoy this. I will always want to get you off, always to give you maximum pleasure when you've performed as well as you have today." I'm rock hard, have been for the last hour, if truth be known. This boy really turns me on.

I crawl between his legs, spread his ass cheeks, and sniff. He's clean, with the residual scent of roses. Interesting. I begin to lick around his asshole, and he begins to moan, to pant. His eyes are screwed tightly shut. Circling his hole with my tongue, I finally make contact with the pucker. He gasps. His dick is bent down between his legs, and is red and swollen. It has started to throb with his heartbeat.

I continue to lick him, nibbling on his perineum, lapping at his balls. He moans in pleasure. Finally, I squirt some lotion onto my fingers, and begin to spread it liberally on his hole. Slowly I begin to enter him with just the tip of my forefinger, watching his expression. He grimaces just a bit, and I withdraw. I give him a moment, and then enter him again, getting further before he grimaces again; I withdraw. "Concentrate on that muscle, the one that's causing you the discomfort," I command. "Concentrate on relaxing there." I continue to enter and withdraw, applying more lotion. After a few minutes I have my forefinger fully inside him, and he's breathing normally. I begin to massage his prostate, and he moans. I withdraw, and begin again with two fingers. Several minutes later, I've fully penetrated him with two fingers and, again, am massaging his prostate. Finally, I'm able to get three fingers into him, and to spread the sphincter. He's panting a bit, but moaning contentedly.

"Ready for the main course," I ask?

"I think so," he replies, a little breathless.

I roll on a condom, and, as gently as I can, I lie on top of him, line up my dick, and start the final assault, pulling out at the least hint of pain. After maybe ten minutes, I've penetrated him fully, and he is moaning loudly. "Oh, my god," he exclaims. I begin to withdraw, and then to push back in, establishing a rhythm and adjusting the angle of my penis aiming for his prostate. "Oh...oh...oh..." His eyes are clamped shut and he's tossing his head back and forth. And, best of all, he's figured out how to manipulate the angles so that I hit his special spot with every thrust, raising his ass just a bit to achieve the zing.

I continue to fuck him for probably ten minutes before he starts to cry softly. "Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my God..." And then he cums...and cums...and cums without my even having touched his dick, and as he cums, I begin to cum and we both cry out in stereo.

I really don't want to pull out of him, and if he worked for me, if his body was mine, I wouldn't. But the relationship's still fragile, and this is his first sexual experience with another person. I pull out of him and roll to one side, looking at his beautiful face. His eyes are wet, his breathing ragged. As he opens his eyes, more tears spill out.

"You okay," I ask with some concern. He reaches for me, and then stops himself.

"Can I hug you?"

"Sure."

He wraps his arms around me, nuzzling my neck, and then seals his lips to mine in a very passionate kiss that seems to last forever. Finally breaking the kiss, he lays his head next to mine, staring into my eyes, dazed.

After a few minutes, I ask, "Well, was that okay."

He smiles, rather sleepily. "I've never felt like this before. And I've never felt anything like that before. I expected that to hurt...a lot. I expected that you'd want to hurt me, that this was another form of punishment. I wanted this so I could figure out whether I can take the pain, but there wasn't, only sheer pleasure. You made love to me."

"There are a lot of ways I'll enjoy hurting you, but sex isn't one of them. It's important to me to bring you pleasure. As I say, I want to fall in love. I can't do that by brutally raping you, although I will be brutal to you sometimes. That spanking was brutal. I'm proud of how you handled it."

He nuzzles me again, and kisses me, almost longingly. I smile back at him. "So, you said you weren't sure of your sexual orientation. Have you clarified that a bit?"

"Oh, I think so."

"Is this really your first sexual experience?"

"Yup. You're my first. I've dated a few times before...girls...but I've never really been interested in going beyond a casual kiss. Now I know why. For that, I'm totally grateful."

"So, do you want the job?"

"Yes," he said, softly, "but I need to figure out how to break it to my conservative Asian parents. I don't want to tell them too much, because it will make them very unhappy, but I need them to understand that I'll be living here as your...umm...servant. I need to work this out. Would you mind meeting them?"

"I guess not... In what capacity?"

"As my employer."

"No, of course not."

"And, when they come to meet you, can I be wearing clothes in the house."

I laugh. "Yes, of course."

He looks relieved. "I really want this job. I will always strive to please you, and will accept the punishments you decide are appropriate. But I need to figure out how to deal with my parents...without destroying them. Can you give me a day or two before I start?"

"Sure," I reply, kissing him. "Today is Wednesday. When would you like to begin?"

He thinks. "Let's say Saturday, officially, but I'll try to get things settled by Friday. Okay?"

"Yup. That'll be fine. And if there's anything I can do to help you get through this, including renting a truck and helping you move your stuff, just let me know. My only worry, frankly, besides that you might change your mind before moving in, is that I'll lose interest in punishing you. You're just that cute."

He looked suddenly amazed. "You think I'm cute?"

"Umm... Yeah."

"Wow. I've never thought of myself as particularly attractive."

"Great. Hold that thought," I say, kissing him. He kisses me back, passionately, his flaccid dick coming to life again, poking me in the thighs.

"I'm not going to change my mind," he says, breaking the kiss, "and I probably should be going soon, but..." He looks suddenly coy.

"What?"

"Could we do that last part again?"

I laugh. He's going to have to be explicit. "What last part?"

He laughs. "The part where you fucked me?"

"Yeah. I think I could probably, out of the goodness of my heart, find the wherewithal to do that."

Nuzzling me, he kisses me again, and then turns on his stomach, awaiting my dick.

Published first at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Nemo-stories/