Date: Sun, 1 Nov 2015 13:37:39 -0800 From: Emri S. Subject: Lincoln's Pride- 2 Send comments to: tarzanacide@gmail.com Thanks for reading and remember to donate to nifty archive to keep it free and accessible! +[Lincoln's Pride}+ Part 2 "You're not trying, boy, struggle Lincoln, fight for yourself. You need to learn to defend yourself," He had his lips against my ear, encouraging me and occasionally pulling at my earlobes with his thick, Arab lips. It didn't feel sexual, more like adding humiliation of a man taking another by force. He was playing with me. "Against who, sir? The only one attacking me is you," I struggled against his hold as he had me pinned back against his chest. I thought of kicking him but that wasn't ok to do to your boss and he was still my employer. I tried to do the move he showed me, but he was holding me so tightly against his chest. Yet he didn't seem strained in the least. ********* Over the next few days, Mr. Hamad went through the list of everything I was responsible for with him. He was a very organized man and seemed to know exactly how he wanted things with his business and exactly what he expected of me. He was impatient and didn't like showing me how to do something again. I quickly learned to follow the patterns of his workday and I surprised him by how quickly I caught on to how he wanted things done. I was finishing work in less time than he expected and I was earning his respect. Outside of work was the other Mr. Hamad. He was very chill and didn't try to crowd my space too much. I had some times to myself to go swim or hit the hotel gym while he finished up business calls. At times he was playful, especially when he had his nightly drink. He would do things to prove his strength with me. I'd never had any problems keeping up in competitions, but he lived for the element of surprise. Sometimes he would pass by me and pull me into a hold. He had shown me a few times some of his wrestling moves. He loved wrestling. The competitive raw nature of using only your body with the intent to fully subdue the opponent. "You don't need balls, goals, hoops, weapons, or anything other than two bodies," he explained. "You have nothing else on which to rely than your strength and cunning." He liked wrestling, and so we wrestled. I wasn't usually prepared for it and sometimes he would just fake me out. He would pass me slowly, give me an eye, and then laugh and pinch my nipple or clap my shoulder. One time he was pacing slowly behind me, talking on the phone in Arabic using his little headset. I was sitting at the table in his hotel room working on my laptop, entering his data. Suddenly, I felt two hands reach from under my armpits and pull me backwards. The chair flipped over and I was on my feet suddenly. He pinned me back against his chest, his hands pulling my arms painfully back. It was a hot afternoon and we had the sliding doors to the suite open to catch the Pacific breeze. We both had on tank tops and shorts. My smooth back was against his hairy, rippled chest. It was unexpectedly soft for chest hair. I don't have much, but for some reason I assumed his would be wiry like pubes. His chest was moderately covered with the thick, dark short hairs. He was holding on to me, but didn't seem too disappointed when I couldn't move away. I was certainly trying, but that sweat and cologne smell hit me, the same smell I'd jerked off to with his jock on the bathroom floor. It hit my nose again and distracted me from my struggle. "You're not trying, boy, struggle Lincoln, fight for yourself. You need to learn to defend yourself," He had his lips against my ear, encouraging me and occasionally pulling at my earlobes with his thick, Arab lips. It didn't feel sexual, more like humiliation. Like a hazing game some players did with younger teammates or with teammates they saw as lesser. He was playing with me. He was toying with me to find out where I fit on the totem. I wasn't too far down from him and I wanted to prove it. "Against who, sir? The only one attacking me is you," I struggled against his hold as he had me pinned back against his chest. Using one hand to rub my tummy gently, again to show that he only really needed one hand to restrain me. I thought of kicking him but that wasn't ok to do to your boss and he was still my employer. I tried to do the move he showed me, but he was holding me so tightly against his chest. Yet he didn't seem strained in the least. He pressed into my ass like you would do to a girl you expected to fuck. I swear I felt his bulge harden as he rocked against me a few times and laughed. That laugh is what did it. I decided struggling wasn't going to get me out of this. If he wanted to toy with me and make me feel less than, well I could give it back to him. I relaxed back against his chest and went limp in his hold. He stopped rocking against me, but I still felt him hard. I reached a hand behind me and squeezed between his legs at the thick snake that went unexpectedly far to the right in his pants. "Does that turn you on... sir?" I used my best gay impression. It worked. He released me and spun me around to face him. I kept a straight face, widened my eyes as big as they would go and stared into his eyes with a slight, inquiring smirk. He froze and the look in his eyes changed from playfulness to hunger. We stared into each other for a minute before I couldn't hold out any longer. I busted out laughing and backed away from his grip. "Was that good, sir? I got away. I win?" I beamed at him and saw his coffee eyes sink for just a minute. "That is not how men fight," He seemed disappointed for a minute and then shrugged it off. "If stroking cock is your only survival move, then you really shouldn't get into a fight outside of West Hollywood." With that, he went to change and headed off to the gym, giving me another small pile of work to do while he worked out. Sometimes his trainer would walk him back up to the room and they would go into Mr. Hamad's hotel room in the suite to measure his progress or weigh him or something. All I knew was they spent some time while I finished work and then the guy would leave and Mr. Hamad would head to she shower. I'd gotten into another routine the last few days, a filthy one. He always left his gym clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor crowned with his sweaty jock on top. I knew I shouldn't do it, but every night when it was my turn in the bathroom, I'd grab it and jerk off to it's scent. The second to last day before we were to leave for Satra, his home country, Mr. Hamad came back from his workout with his trainer in tow. He introduced me to him as I was finishing up work. His name was Derek and he was huge, maybe 6'5' with big green eyes and tousled red hair. This man was solid steel and had a slight California tan. He had on a thin, tight, grey tank top that hugged every contour of his physique and green camouflage workout tights that didn't camouflage his bulge. He gave me a disinterested nod but came to shake my hand. It turned into another competition of strength as he squeezed my hand too hard and I returned his grip. For some reason he didn't like me. He towered over me and eyed me like yesterday's trash as he gripped my hand and pumped it harshly. I squeezed his hand back as hard as I could, I'm an alpha too We froze there for a minute staring each other down with a mutual "Nice to meet you, bro." I looked past him to Mr. Hamad who gave a smile and a shrug but then pulled Derek away from me with a firm, "That's enough, boy." Mr. Hamad's tone was low and soft, but it made Derek stand up straight and snap his eyes away from me and back towards the voice. He backed away under Mr. Hamad's hand on his steel shoulder, but soon returned his eyes to stare me down as if to say, "I was here first." I shrugged it off, I wasn't sure what we were competing for. I turned my eyes back towards the work I had finished. The two of them retreated to Mr. Hamad's room and he told me to join them. I followed behind, not sure what was to happen. He told me I had five minutes to get ready for bed and get out. I quickly grabbed my sleep clothes and went into the bathroom, brushing my teeth under the shower head to combine jobs. I came back out in loose, jogging shorts. I skipped the t-shirt to show off my own proud muscles to Derek. I puffed up and flexed as I lumbered across the room. Mr. Hamad and Derek were going through a workout plan. Mr. Hamad was lounged back in a captain's chair and Derek was knelt beside him going through a folder. Mr. Hamad ignored me, but Derek looked up and I swear I heard him growl as I passed. I gave him an odd look, but headed for the door. "You can watch a little TV, but get to bed early, we have a full day tomorrow," Mr. Hamad said to me with a hand raised. Derek flashed annoyed green eyes at me and raised a middle finger towards me against his side where Mr. Hamad couldn't see. "Yes sir," I paused and looked at him to show I was listening to his instructions. "And Lincoln, sleep well," he added with a very parental tone that elicited another low growl from Derek. That dude looked fucking crazy. "Thank you sir, you too," I nodded at Mr. Hamad and gave Derek a little wave. Something about that dude just wasn't right, but I was excited about having a night on the couch with TV and no work. I closed the door behind me, got my blanket, and laid on the couch. The TV in the small living room had endless channels. I found an action movie my dad took me to see a few summers ago. Every few minutes in the movie something was blowing up. A boat, a building, a hot dog stand, even the park bench where the hero had been sitting blew up. It was awesome! I didn't watch the ending, I passed out under the warm blanket. ********* "Aww fuck please, please put it in me, daddy please," I woke up to hear pleading from the next room. "Yeah, stretch that white pussy for this big brown cock. Beg for it in your little pink hole," growled another voice that sounded like Mr. Hamad. What the hell was going on. I sat up and scratched my chest. "Please daddy, please fuck me," the voice whined in Derek's low growl. It sounded strange, the words didn't match the voice. He was begging like a bitch from behind Mr Hamad's bedroom door. "Beg for it, bitch, beg for the cock," Mr. Hamad's voice was deeper than usual, forceful, impatient. I got off the couch and crept towards the bedroom door. I saw light coming from under the door but also from the sides. The door was ajar. I remembered closing it to give Mr. Hamad his privacy while I watched the movie. I hadn't heard anything going on, but now the door was cracked an inch or so and all of their noise filtered through. I got closer and there was enough room in the crack for me to see the bed. Mr. Hamad was beside it, waving the biggest, darkest cock I'd ever seen. It had to be at least a foot long. It was thick, fat and heavy. It arced up towards his stomach and he would grab it, lower it down and then let it go. It would bounce a few times, so heavy it struggled to raise up. Derek was on his hands and knees in front of him with his head tilted up towards the cock. He had his tongue stretched out as far as it would go, but Mr. Hamad was swinging his cock just out of reach. Derek was whimpering and the sound filled me with disgust. Derek was naked except for the gold tie Mr. Hamad had worn that day tied in a tight knot around his neck. Mr. Hamad held the long side in his hand, yanking Derek hard by the neck. Derek coughed as Mr. Hamad raised it upwards, pulling back on his neck to choke him. It was the strangest scene I ever beheld. Mr. Hamad pulled back hard, choking the man who was gasping for breath with his mouth open wide. He would hold it just enough for the color to drain from Derek's face and then let it slack a bit so Derek's head fell forward as he gasped for air. But Derek didn't move, didn't fight for himself. His hands were free but he kept them clasped behind his back. "What a freak," I thought to myself. In between these attacks on his air, Derek would regain his breath and resume begging to suck Mr. Hamad. What made a man his size go down like that? How could he be into this? This huge mass of man was whimpering on the floor in front of Mr. Hamad, begging for his cock. Mr. Hamad swiped it across the beggar's lips. Derek lapped excitedly at the tip. "You'd better hope that pussy is ready for this meat," Mr. Hamad told him. He leaned down and put his hands on Derek's chin, lifting him up by the head and then spitting into his open mouth. "Thank you sir," Derek simpered. It was pretty disgusting. How could this big tower of manhood be on his hands and knees begging for cock. "Up," Mr. Hamad ordered and pulled Derek by the leash. He had his hands up on the bed, his chest against a towel someone had laid out against the comforter. Derek arched his back and wiggled his ass. "Please fuck me sir, please fuck me." "Why would I waste my seed on a dirty whore? You see the boy I have in training." Mr. Hamad said in a low, calm voice. I stepped back at that. Was he talking about me? I was no one's whore. I certainly didn't want his seed. Sure his dirty jock got me off, but that was different. I don't know how, but my mind sorted it out as being different. Taking a cock is definitely gay. Sniffing a jock is... questionable. "Please sir. I can take you like that little bitch never could. I can take you as deep as you want to go sir. Please fuck me," he was practically crying now. It was pretty gross, but I started to tent in my shorts. It wasn't the scene, it was the way Mr. Hamad exerted himself over the trainer. How did he get a guy that size to whine like a bitch? "Shut the fuck up. You talking does nothing for me." Mr. Hamad ordered and pushed Derek down against the towel on the bed. "Stick that pink hole out for me, spread your legs." And then Mr. Hamad slicked up his cock and started shoving into him. I didn't know how this was supposed to go but it looked painful. Derek let out a cry to indicate this wasn't the normal pace of things. "Please sir, Ow, sir," he started whining. "The fuck did I tell you?" Mr. Hamad reached down to the floor and grabbed Derek's sock and shoved it into the whiny mass of muscle's mouth. He slammed into the man and I heard a muffled scream and saw tears stream down his cheek. Seeing the jock go into his mouth, that was mine. That was for me. I felt an odd jealousy fall over me. I was leaning against the door frame in the shadows, but that caused me to lean forward a little and the door cracked open more. Derek turned and saw me, but Mr. Hamad didn't notice. Derek let out a muffled scream to try to let him know I was watching, but Mr. Hamad had the sock fully in his mouth and had tied the other sock around Derek's head and knotted it tightly in the back. It pulled his cheeks in and had wet tear stains on it. He had Derek's arms pinned behind his back, holding him firmly as he continued to forcefuck him. Derek made eyes at me to fuck off, turn away. Knowing it bothered him to be watched brought a smile across my face as my cock filled out my shorts to full mast. I reached down and gave it a pet, mindlessly enjoying the scene in front of me. "Oh fuck yeah," Mr. Hamad growled as he slammed in and out of the "whore's hole" with pleasure. I was cheering him on in my head. I hoped he was making it hurt. "MMMMM!!!" Derek was moaning into the socks and kept eyeing me angrily. I watched as I stole his joy. He wanted this private, between him and Mr. Hamad. I reached into my shorts and stroked my cock, imagining myself conquering this big beefy bitch. He may have been built, but he was definitely not a man. Anyone who could take a cock like that and moan and beg for more was a full on bitch. I knew I would never do that. I would never lower myself like that. I cheered on Mr. Hamad in my head as I watched his firm muscular ass push in and out as he destroyed the thick trainer's hole. It looked like it hurt like hell. Derek was squirming and screaming into the sock. There were tears down his reddened cheeks and spit coming out of his mouth. All the time his eyes burned at me. Mr. Hamad gave one last slam as his body started to jerk and twist. A deep growl erupted from his chest as he slammed into the man, flinging his sweat down over Derek's muscled back. "FUCK YEAH, take my seed. Take it while I breed your little pink hole. I own that pussy," Mr. Hamad growled and it sent me over the edge. I creamed in my shorts, bucking back against the door frame and trying to keep my noise level down. Behind me, the last explosion of the movie sounded on the tv. I lurched forward as my cock fired off in my shorts. My knees gave out as my body twisted and I fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor. I landed with a thud. It was the best fucking cum I'd had in a long time. I looked back up from the shadows and Mr. Hamad was looking out towards the door, but over my head. I scrambled away from his view and I didn't hear anything. I looked back and saw Mr. Hamad lay down on the bed and kick Derek off. The muscle mass landed on his feet but fell down on his ass. His knees must have been weakened from holding that position too long. "Mmmf," I heard him whine again. I saw him untie the sock gag from around his head. His red hair was messy and matched his teary face. "Thank you sir," he said rising up from the floor. "I thought you left. Why are you still here? I'm finished. You should go... and don't wake the boy," Mr. Hamad said coldly and I heard him flip on the TV. I crawled away from them and got up on my feet. I went to the little kitchen area and washed my hands and cleaned the cum off my shorts. Derek came out just as I was wiping my hands dry on the towel. He had on his clothes but held his shoes. He didn't look at me or say a word, but he gave a sniffle when he went to open the door. "You're awake," Mr. Hamad's voice sounded back from the bedroom doorway. I snapped my eyes to him and swallowed hard. "I woke up from some explosion scene in the movie and I got thirsty, needed water," I reached for a glass and filled it under the tap. "Would you like some, sir?" "No," he was wearing a small pair of boxers. "Thank you. You're sleeping ok?" "Yes sir," I adjusted myself in my jogging shorts. "It's cold out here. Would you like an extra blanket?" He offered and moved towards me. His dark furry chest heaved a sigh as he closed in on me. I looked in his eyes in the dim light. He looked at me with a little sadness. I got the feeling he didn't entirely enjoy what he'd just done with Derek. "I'm ok, thank you. Derek left?" I asked with a soft tone. "That is none of your concern," Mr. Hamad growled and stiffened his back. He didn't like my question. He turned back towards the bedroom and walked away from me. He paused at the door frame. He turned back towards me, putting his hands on the insides of the doorframe and leaned forward, stretching his arm and chest muscles. He did a few pushups against the door frame. It pushed his hard chest out to regain his pride. His voice softened again, "Let me know if you need anything in the night, Lincoln. If you need the bathroom, come through. I realize you need your own space. You'll have a little more personal space when we get home." "Thank you sir. I'm ok sharing your space. I'm used to a lot of people in small quarters. It doesn't bother me, sir... It's comforting to hear you snore like my brothers... good night," I sipped my water and gave a half smile. He nodded to me with a smile and pushed back from the door frame. ************ The next morning we had breakfast and Mr. Hamad said we should do a workout outside today. "There is a park close to here. I got you new workout clothes. Shower up and they are on the dresser." He told me as I was setting our plates outside our suite door. I went to shower and found a small, tight white t-shirt, a pink jockstrap, and some short white soccer shorts. I pulled them on, feeling a little on display as the shorts hugged my ass. Looking in the mirror, I could make out a hint of the pink straps and pouch showing through the white shorts. He had on a brown tank top that matched his skin color and showed off his chest. It was tucked into small white shorts that showed a hint of a black jockstrap. We pulled on matching pairs of new nikes and he tucked the card key to the room into a small pocket in the shorts. I grabbed my backpack, and he gave me an odd look. "We aren't going far. What do you need to bring with you?" He asked. "I... nothing, sir. Just sunblock, my phone, if something with your business happens I want to be on top of it. It's not heavy," I said and did a few squats as I slipped it on one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at me, "Very well, Lincoln. Take water bottles for us too. But I expect you to keep up with me." ************ We drove the three blocks down to the park which was odd since we were going to work out. I left my backpack in the trunk, but took the water for us. I noticed it was almost completely guys in the park this morning. I know this is the gay part of LA, but I thought maybe there would be a girl or two or some families. Some guys were holding hands and a few were laying together on blankets under the trees. A group was playing basketball and a few were running around with earbuds in their ears. As tight and revealing as our clothes were, I noticed they fit in well in this park. We got a few looks as Mr. Hamad led me over to a tree and showed me the stretches he did. "Harder Lincoln, you need to be loose for our run. I don't want you holding me back," he said and pressed down on my back as I was stretching my right calf muscles. "I won't be an issue, sir," I said and looked up at him, pushing my blonde hair back off my forehead. But he kept his hand on my back anyway, making sure I was pushing to his satisfaction. I caught the eye of two latino guys who were checking us out from behind. I guess this position left my ass on display. He raised a short nod to me with a smile and his tongue took a quick tap at his lip. I looked up at Mr. Hamad again, this time with a blush. He had noticed the guys. He looked slightly amused at my modesty. "It's how things are here, Lincoln. Time to grow up." With that, we were off. we ran down through the park and then up to Santa Monica Blvd. We got stuck by the light, but then made our way up the steep hill of San Vicente. I was keeping up with him and only fell behind because he kept seeming like he was going to dart off on some side street. This was his route, I fell behind and followed inches behind him so he would know I was there and not holding him back. We went down Sunset, or up, it seemed like all we were doing was climbing. My legs weren't used to this and I was glad every time we got stuck at a No Walk sign. But he just jogged in place and looked back at me to indicate I should do the same. "Don't lose your heart rate, keep going," he said sounding a little out of breath himself. Down Sunset we crossed into Beverly Hills and Mr. Hamad followed the sidewalk as it splintered off into a side street. I rounded the corner behind him and my heart sank. It went almost vertical. I was dripping sweat and the sun was pounding overhead. I'd put on sunblock and a little was dripping down into my left eye. It was stinging and got worse when I wiped at it with my sweaty hand. But I followed. I wasn't going to be the one to end this and prove him right. My legs were burning as we loped up the hill. He was breathing heavy too, looking at me with coffee colored eyes that seemed to say, "Damnit, give up!" I wasn't going to do it. I forced a smile and jogged up to his side, pushing past my screaming muscles. I wanted to vomit and if I'd slowed down, I probably would have. We made it to the top of the hill and the street plateaued and jogged to the right. We paused there and slowed to a walk as he tried to hide his gasps for air. "This... this is what I... wanted... you... to see..." Mr. Hamad held his chest trying to look leisurely. He spread a hand behind me and I turned to see the view of the LA basin. It was really something spectacular. We kept walking down the street and soon it opened up to another long view, this time towards downtown. "Pretty awesome," I said, between deep breaths. "Definitely worth it," I lied. I wanted to lay down and die here. My body was drenched, my lungs felt fire, and my stomach twisted like I'd eaten leftover sushi from a dumpster. No I've never done that, but it's the worst thing I could picture. We kept walking, very slowly. We were both experienced enough athletes to know that sitting down would likely lead to throwing up. The phrase "walk it off" really does have some tread on it. We got to the end of it where the street met a gate leading up to a huge stone mansion. We headed back to the park. We did catch our breath and ran the last mile or so back. The heat was getting bad now and the tourists were out in full force as we made our way through Beverly Hills. We stopped at a juice bar and Mr. Hamad got us green smoothies as we headed back towards our car. We were sopping wet and my shirt was now transparent against my pale skin. It didn't show much skin, just the contour of my muscles and the pink of my hardened nipples. The shorts though, they pretty much displayed the pink jock. I noticed it when we got back to the park and the guys were now looking down there instead of my face. I turned to Mr. Hamad who looked a little guilty. He'd planned this little humiliation. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction though. I puffed out my chest and walked on. I was determined to meet his every challenge. When we got into the thick of the park gays, I told Mr. Hamad we should stretch out for recovery. I did my best to keep my ass on display as I exaggerated some of his stretches and kept asking him, "Is this ok, Mr. Hamad? Is this how we do it? My ass feels funny." I laughed to myself and noticed we were drawing a small crowd. They were damn shameless here. "That's enough Lincoln," he said without humor and moved behind me. "That's what you wanted, right sir? You wanted to show me off?" I looked behind me and up to meet his serious eyes. "I said that's enough, let's go," he said coldly and walked off towards the car. He paused by the tree to let me catch up. "Damn it, go away," he waved a hand next to his ear and swatted at something, "I hate bees." I froze as I saw the bee angrily buzz away from him and it headed right towards me. I thought if I froze it would leave me alone, but a split second later I felt a piercing sting on my arm. "Ahhhh!" I let out a scream and the crowd that was starting to disperse turned and looked at us. "It's just a bee, Lincoln, don't be such a baby," Mr. Hamad said, annoyed and angry with me. "I..." I felt my heart pounding in my ear now and my throat was starting to swell. I gasped for air and felt lumps filling out and closing off my airway. "Backpack... pen... allergy... die," I croaked out and he suddenly looked at me seriously. He started towards me, but then my words registered with him. "Reaction! He's having a reaction. Epinephrine. The backpack? Trunk! Watch him, please! Someone help while I get it." He took off towards the car, jumping over picnics and swearing loudly. "Fuck Fuck Fuck! Move Queer! Emergency!" I sank down against the tree, gasping for air and a thin blonde man came towards me. "Lay back," he said with authority. He laid my head on the grass and tore off my t-shirt. He tilted my head back and took hold of one wrist, holding it up to check my pulse. "Relax, your boyfriend is going for your allergy pen, just relax," he stroked my chest, pushing against my abs to help me get some air. And then he was back, Mr. Hamad threw my backpack down and dug into it tossing all of my things around on the grass. He took out the pen and sat next to me against the tree and then pulled me into a sitting position in his lap. He pushed at my shorts and the thin blonde man helped slide them off of me. I had a sudden worry that everyone was seeing me in the pink jockstrap. Mr. Hamad raised my left leg, exposing my smooth pink asshole to the growing crowd. He put the pen to his lips and tore off the cap to expose the needle. He jabbed it into the inside of my thigh and depressed the plunger to give me the medicine. I laid back against his chest as he finished. I looked over at him as he stared down at my thigh, his face full of worry. I laid my head against his strong shoulder. His left hand was wrapped around me and held my abs as his right hand worked the needle. He finished and slowly slid it out. He started to set it down, but the blonde man shook his head. "There's a needle disposal near the bathrooms, I'll take it there." He stood up and looked down at me, "You'll be ok sweetie." "Thank you," I gasped, feeling my throat start to open a little. Mr. Hamad stroked my stomach with his left hand and pulled my legs closed with his right. He folded my knees up into my chest and secured them with his arms. He protected my modesty, to the disappointment of the onlookers. "Breathe with me, sweet boy," his deep whisper into my ear as his lips brushed back and forth over my earlobe. He turned my face up to look at his. He inhaled slow and deep, then exhaled blowing into my lips. We did this a few times until my head stopped throbbing so much. "Your color is returning," a small grin crept across his lips. He gave my nose a kiss. We laid there together and Mr. Hamad waved the crowd away. Some lingered and others slunk off but tried to watch us discreetly. I guess a teen muscle stud in a pink jockstrap was something of a gift to these guys. I smiled to myself at that. We must have looked pretty funny. Two strong guys, holding each other under a tree. I noticed the contrast of our skin. He was a little older, rougher, dark, hairy. I was smooth, pale, a whiter shade of white. There was something about the way his arms slid around me though, protectively, not how he'd touched Derek. But i wasn't his "whore" either. "You lied to me," he whispered firmly. "I'm sorry sir. I really wanted this job. I promise it won't happen again," I said softly. "You can't make promises for bees, idiot. You lied and it almost cost you your life. You are a very stupid child for going off without that pen in your pocket. You try to prove you can be as much of a man as I am, but you're still just a child, Lincoln." He stung me worse than the bee. "I'm sorry, sir. Please don't fire me. I'm ok now, sir. See? I can stand," I tried to stand up, but instantly felt light headed. I started to stumble towards where the man had folded my shorts. I reached for them and stumbled forward. Mr. Hamad caught me before I faceplanted in the grass. "Just a child," he said again and put an arm behind my knees, sweeping me off my feet like a groom carries his bride across the threshold. I held my shorts and he carried me over to his car. ********* He raced to the clinic and parked in a red zone right near the entrance. He came around and pulled me out, lifting me from the seat. "Please let me walk," I begged and he reluctantly set me on my feet. I'm not the lightest guy. I was in awe of how easily he swept me up. I'm also about an inch taller than he is and I'm not finished growing. But I still felt small standing next to him. Size isn't always about measurement. "Wait Lincoln, put the shorts on," he held up the white shorts and I looked down to recall that all I had on was a pink jockstrap and new, white nikes. "Oh," I blushed. He squatted down to help me and I stepped into the shorts, now torn and dirty. He pulled them up and cupped my ass in a two-handed squeeze after he'd pulled the waistband over it. I was getting used to his touch, his uninvited explorations. It added a level of brotherhood I'd had playing baseball. My teammates never hesitated to smack a butt or rub a back or squeeze wherever. It just felt natural. I took a step forward and my legs felt weak again so he put an arm around my waist and had me lean into his side for support. His sweat was starting to dry up and it left a super potent smell on him. My mind flashed to the sweaty jock he was preparing for me in his shorts right now. My cock started to fill out in my jock as I breathed him. I would miss that most if he fired me. We went inside and, of course, he immediately demanded service. "He's had a bad allergic reaction. He needs immediate care!" He yelled to an empty waiting room. A dark haired, Indian man who looked to be about Mr. Hamad's age popped his head around a corner yelling back with an annoyed tone, "Have a seat!... oh," he stepped out and looked us up and down with a smile. "Yes, well let's get him checked out." He reached for me, but Mr. Hamad didn't let me go from his side. "Sir, you'll have to wait out here and fill out some forms. I'll get him set up for the doctor. I promise I'll take good care of your... boyfriend?" The nurse said. "No, no sir, he's not my boyfriend, he's my," I croaked out with a dry voice and Mr. Hamad interrupted me. "Father, he's 16. I'm his guardian," Mr. Hamad lied without a hint of stress in his voice. "I'll go back with him. You can bring me whatever form to fill out back there." The nurse shrugged and led us back to a small exam room. He patted the paper-lined leather exam table and I hopped up with help from Mr. Hamad. The nurse went to get the forms and my body gave a deep shiver as the cool air conditioning hit my sweaty skin. "I'd give you my tank top, but it's pretty soaked as well," Mr. Hamad started to look around for a blanket or something to cover me with. "What seems to be the problem?" A voice sounded as the door opened and an older Arab guy walked in. He eyed us both, sweaty and dirty. A half-naked muscled blonde teen on his exam table with the band of his pink jock peeking out above the band of the torn and tiny shorts. A mid-20's furry, muscled arab man looking worried about his boy. I'm sure the story-line in his head was quite exciting. He smiled at us. "Some sexual mishap?" he guessed with a chuckle. "No!," Mr. Hamad and I exclaimed in unison. "Relax, I get those all the time in this neighborhood, nothing to be ashamed about. Square peg, round hole, simple enough, just get the shorts off and I'll have a look," The doctor went for rubber gloves. "My son had a severe allergic reaction and I injected him with epinephrine. He needs to be checked out. His hole was not involved," Mr. Hamad said flatly. He turned and said something in a foreign language and Mr. Hamad answered back in the same sounding language. They talked back and forth and the doctor came towards me and lifted my leg. He took an alcohol swab and rubbed around where Mr. Hamad had injected me and was pointing something out on my thigh and speaking in that language. I was getting annoyed and feeling like a dog at the vet. "I'm feeling better," I interrupted as the doctor held up one of my arms and was pointing out something to Mr. Hamad about my right armpit. They stopped and turned to me, remembering I was there. "You are lucky to be alive," the doctor admonished. "You should always inform the people around you if you have a medical need, especially to your guardian." I turned and looked at Mr. Hamad, "I'm sorry sir. Am I going to be ok?" "For now, you will feel pretty weak and out of it until this works out of your system in the next few hours. I'm prescribing something to help, a new epipen and some pills to help you sleep on the long flight you have tomorrow," the doctor said to me and then went back to talking with Mr. Hamad in the language I guessed must be Arabic. Mr. Hamad came to sit next to me on the exam table as the doctor put his stethoscope to different parts of me and explored me like Mr. Hamad had done in my interview. Mr. Hamad rubbed my back and I was grateful for his warm touch. He and the doctor continued on as though they were old friends. And then finally it hit me, "Wait, so I get to go with you? I'm not fired, sir?" I said with surprise. "Again he interrupts the men trying to help him," the doctor said with an annoyed tone as his rough hands felt my pecs, squeezing them. "He has much to learn about respect... and obedience," Mr. Hamad said, "But I think he can be trained." I closed my mouth and lowered my head as Mr. Hamad rubbed my back muscles. They were sore and tense from the medicine in me. I laid back into his grip and he took my shoulders, roughly massaging them. I felt a chill over me and my dick stirred in my shorts. The two men continued on in Arabic and I went back to being the puppy in the vet's office being soothed and pet by his owner. The doctor leaned in to my face and lifted my eyelids as I was getting lost in the rough massage. He checked out my eyes and gave me a soft smile. "Looks like you will survive this time," he said. He called in the nurse and told him what drugs we would need. The nurse never did bring those forms for Mr. Hamad to fill out. He returned a few minutes later and handed a bag to the doctor who looked in there and threw in some samples of things from his cabinet. He handed them to Mr. Hamad who handed back a small wad of cash. The doctor put a pill on my tongue and gave me a glass of water to swallow it. "This will help you heal." We both thanked him and he gave me a squeeze on the shoulder. He shook hands with Mr. Hamad and then Mr. Hamad pushed me to my feet and steadied me on one arm as he took the bag in the other. We got back to the hotel suite and he filled the giant bathroom tub with hot water and a mix of things that made it fill with bubbles and pop and fizz. He pushed off my clothes and helped me to get in. I laid back, looking up at him and said, "Thank you, sir." I closed my eyes and started sinking down into the water feeling exhausted. The pill was knocking me out as it fought against the other drug in my system. I slipped under the water and then felt Mr. Hamad pull me back up to sitting position. "Damnit Lincoln, are you determined to die today?" he laughed. He pulled me up and sat my bare ass on the ledge of the tub, leaning me against the cold tile wall. My legs opened and my soft cock sat against my heavy balls on the cold marble ledge of the tub. "Let me help you," he said and stood and stripped off his tank top. In my stupor, I watched him, maybe a little too hungrily. When he pushed off his shorts, I saw the jock he had on. "That one's my favorite," I heard the words float out of my mouth and then I raised both hands and clapped them over my mouth. Shit. I was busted. "I know," he said matter of factly. He gave me a laugh and then pushed it to the ground, freeing that big brown monster he kept down there. It was soft but swung loose and flopped out over his heavy, hairy low-hangers. Those nuts were huge. He flicked the jock towards the counter. He stepped into the bathtub and laid back where I had been. He patted his chest and I sank into the water again. He pulled me into him so my back was against his chest. We were even now in the water and his head was right behind mine. He pushed me to the side a bit so I could lay my head back against his shoulder. I turned to inhale him. He hadn't washed his neck yet and it was a stronger scent than the expensive bath stuff he had in here. In my drugged bravado I stuck my tongue out and touched it to his neck to taste his salty man juice. He laughed and pushed me away playfully. "Settle down, dopey little boy. I just need to clean you and get you to bed. You will be back to normal tomorrow and probably not remember any of this," he said, not sounding sexed up in the least. He was in control of himself and it made me impatient. "Are you going to fuck me?" I asked crudely and lifted off of him, looking back to stare into his eyes. "No. I most certainly am not. This is not acceptable talk Lincoln," He turned me back around and pulled me back against his chest again. His hands took the small washcloth from the ledge and rubbed the cake of soap inside it. "You don't want me like you wanted Derek? Then why did you tell him you already had another boy?" I inquired knowing I was pushing way beyond acceptable limits today. "I most definitely do NOT want you like I did Derek. He is a hungry and filthy toy. That is not what I hired you for. Someday I may take you, but it won't be because you are drugged or desperate to save your job. I wouldn't take advantage of someone in a helpless state. That's called rape. When I take you, it will be because you want it and beg me for it." He washed me with the soapy cloth that felt soft on my skin and made my body tingle with goosebumps. My cock was rock hard under the bubbles but he didn't touch it. "I'm not gay though," I said to remind myself. "No, of course not, sweet one," he chuckled in his deep, commanding voice and brought the washcloth down to soap up my ass. I squirmed on it and his finger, from behind the rag, poked gently at my hole. I felt his thick brown lips chew gently on my shoulder. I closed my eyes and waves washed over me. "No sir, not gay," I mumbled and fell asleep in his arms, "Not no homo..." ******* Thanks for reading, let me know what you think please: tarzanacide@gmail.com