Date: Fri, 23 Jan 2004 15:12:25 -0800 (PST)
From: Max Hewitt <lilperv76@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Punking Mike," ch. 9

This story involves sex between guys.  If you shouldn't be reading stuff
like that, move on.  In this story, the characters don't use condoms.  In
the real world, anybody who doesn't practice safe sex is a menace to
himself and society.  Don't be a menace.  It's okay to print this story out
or save it to a disc, but don't transfer it to another website or archive
without my permission, please.

Thanks to TW for doing the beta reading here.

Again, thanks to Al for suggesting some of the things that happen in this
chapter.

Lilperv76@yahoo.com

Chapter 9

[MC = Mike Cronin; JC = James Cronin SW = Seth Watkins]

MC:

I didn't see Marcy again.  I got an email from her the following week
saying while she didn't have anything against gays and watching Jason and
me get it on was hot, she just didn't want to date a gay guy.  I wondered
if she'd ever heard the term "bisexual."  She told me she hoped Jason and I
would be happy together.

What was I going to do?  Seth would shit a brick if I told her he was
blackmailing Jase and me.  Besides, I wasn't sure at that point whether I'd
have been willing to give up having sex with other guys just to remain
Marcy's boyfriend.  So I emailed her back, apologized for the surprise of
it all, and managed to suggest that Seth was behind everything without ever
accusing him specifically of anything.  I wished her well.

The following week Seth made Jase and me rehearse each evening.  He had us
doing our routine to Ravel's "Bolero."  Jason was to be the master, and I
was the slave.  Seth made us practice the whole thing wearing jocks and our
slave collars.  He always made us take a Viagra before we rehearsed.  He
told us we'd have "costumes," but he didn't show them to us.  That week,
though, he told us Friday was performance day, and he made me do my part
blindfolded.  He'd gotten me a new, wider collar, and I was to be led in by
a leash attached to it.

The routine got Jason and me so hot I didn't think we needed the Viagra,
but Seth insisted.  It was really frustrating because neither of us got
off.  By the time we came to our finale and the music finished, both our
cocks were hot, hard, sticking up out of our jocks, and leaking.  But Seth
wouldn't let us come.  On Tuesday night after practice, we drove to a local
make-out place and Jason fucked me in the back seat of my car.  (It's just
as awkward as everybody says it is, by the way.)  Then he sucked me off and
we went to our separate homes.

The next night, however, Jason forgot himself and said something to Seth
which pissed him off.  When we had gone through our routine enough that
Seth was satisfied, he made us go over and fool around on the pool table
while he took some stills for our website.  Then he handed me a tube of
4Play and told me to put some in Jason's ass.  Then he handed me a pool cue
and made me fuck Jason with the blunt end while he took more pictures.
Then he took off his cargoes and climbed up on the table, where he fucked
Jase both ways, on all fours and on his back.  I was supposed to diddle
myself and cum at the same time he did.  It was hard holding back because I
got so hot watching the two of them.  I almost made it.  In fact, when I
began to make noises as I felt my orgasm beginning, I think that set off
Seth, so he dumped a load of jizz into Jase just after I came.  By now I
knew what to do.  I caught my cum in my hand and then ate it.  Seth shoved
a butt plug in Jason's ass and told him to keep it there until rehearsal
the next night.

When Friday night came, we went to Seth's about 9:00.  He made us both
shave each other all over, and I had to do Jason's head and eyebrows for
him.  He made us both wear blindfolds so we wouldn't know where we were
going, and he took us in his car to where we were to do our "act."  We were
wearing our slut outfits, the cut off tees, the raggedy cut off jeans, and
the work boots.

When we stopped, he got us out of the car.  "Hey, Seth, this is tonight's
entertainment?"

Seth chuckled. "Yeah, man, and I think your friends are gonna love it."

"Well, we can't argue about the price, but these guys are expecting a good
show.  I hope these amateurs can live up to their expectations."

"I don't think you'll be sorry."

With that we were led into a building of some sort.  When we got inside,
Seth took off our blindfolds.  We were in what looked like a library or
good-sized study.  There was a big walnut desk at one end, lots of leather
chairs in brown, and books all along three of the walls.  The other wall
had a large window with those diamond shaped panes.  It was dark by then,
and I couldn't see what was outside.  I could guess, though, that we were
in the home of someone with a lot of money.

Seth told us to strip.  Then he gave us our costumes.  Mine consisted of my
collar, which I already had on, a black leather jockstrap, my nip rings
with their connecting chain, and a leather hood.  He had me try the hood on
to get used to it, and then let me take it off until time to go onstage.
There were small holes by the ears, so I could hear.  There were nose
holes.  There was a larger hole for my mouth, so that my lips would show.
But the eye holes were closed.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  I would be
anonymous.  No one would know who I was.

Jason was to wear black leather chaps which had a removable pouch for his
tackle and was open in the back so his butt showed.  He had a black leather
chest harness and a Lone Ranger type black leather mask.  He, too, was
barefoot.

Seth gave us each our pills.  Then he gave each of us a glass of what
turned out to be straight scotch.

"This is to loosen you up, boys.  You've rehearsed this thing enough that
you should be able to do a good job.  Don't worry about the audience.  Just
get into what you're doing.  But, Mikey, there's one thing I haven't told
you about.  There's a special guest at this affair tonight.  When the dance
part of your show is over, Jason will lead you over to this guy.

"Jason, I'll point him out to you before you two go on.  And when Mike is
standing in front of him, put your hand on his shoulder.  Then, Mike,
that's your cue to drop to your knees.  You reach up, find the guy's fly.
Open up his pants and unzip them.  Then, if he doesn't raise his ass so you
can pull down his boxers or briefs or whatever, you pull his cock out of
his shorts and give him the best blowjob you know how to do.  When the guy
comes, swallow it.  Then you say, `Thank you, master,' and Jason will lead
you back here."

"Cronin, you got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Kinsey, got it?"

"Yes."

After we'd been there about a half an hour, a guy stuck his head in the
door and said "Show time!"


JC:

First of all, you should know this.  I wasn't lying when I told Mike I had
never been unfaithful to his mother.  That doesn't mean, however, that I'm
dead or that I don't get hard when I see a nice looking guy.  I just wanted
to establish that I've looked and admired and enjoyed, but I've never even
touched, except for the one kiss with Darren that was so unfortunately
photographed.

I had been aware of the Cadre, as they called themselves, for several
years.  It was a closely-knit and secretive group of movers and shakers in
the city.  I had heard other things about them, too.  They got together one
Friday night a month and played poker.  Then, according to the rumors, they
had some sort of entertainment.  No one who was passing the rumors on to me
had ever been there, so it was all purely hearsay.  They weren't telling me
about this, I hasten to say, in my capacity as District Attorney.  This was
just office scuttlebutt.

I was getting ready to go home late one afternoon.  It had been a rare slow
day for us, and I was looking forward to a cold shower and a nice scotch
before dinner.  Just as I was closing my briefcase, which contained the
usual stuff I had to look through after dinner, Gerry Bowman came in and
asked if I had a minute.

Gerry, an assistant DA, had always been ambitious.  I think he wanted my
job, but he did his so well, I had no complaints.  When I left office I
thought he'd be a good replacement, in fact.  He was just a little pushy,
sometimes, for my taste.

I gestured him to a chair.  "As the kids say, Gerry, `What's up?'"

"We're all eager to get out of here, Jim, so I won't keep you long.  And
this isn't an office matter."

"Okay."

"Have you heard of a group called `The Cadre'?"

"Yeah, who hasn't?"

"You know they play poker one Friday night a month?"

"Yeah, that's what I've heard."

"You're a poker player, aren't you?"

"Well, I used to do it a lot in college and even in law school.  But I
haven't played much lately."

"I don't think you forget how to play poker.  It's like riding a bike."

"I suppose you're right. Now, Gerry, what's this all about?"

"I've been asked to invite you to a meeting of the Cadre this Friday
evening.  You'd be the special guest, and I can tell you that I expect
you'll be invited to join."

"You're a member?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"I never knew that."

"Well, that's not something we broadcast."

"That's interesting.  So why me?"

"Well, these guys are all pretty influential people around town.  Their
poker isn't played for money.  It's just an excuse to relax, have some
drinks, have a little fun."

"And trade favors?"

"Honestly, Jim, I don't think that's why you were invited to sit in Friday,
if that's what you're thinking.  I've been a member for three years.  I'm
the youngest guy there, by the way.  And not once has anyone ever tried to
take advantage of my being in this office."

"Okay, let me ask you again.  Why me?"

"Some friends of yours are members.  They would like you to join the fun."

"What kind of fun?"

"Well, here's where it gets sticky.  You have to promise me not to tell
anyone what I'm about to tell you.  The Cadre guards its privacy pretty
carefully, and I wouldn't have approached you if I didn't think I could
count on your discretion."

"So long as you aren't going to tell me about anything illegal, I'll
promise to keep mum about anything I hear."

He gave me a reproachful look.  "Jim, I'm a member of the bar and of the
DA's staff.  You know me well enough to know that I wouldn't try to lure
you into anything illegal or even tell you about things you'd have to do
something about in your official capacity.  Okay?"

I relaxed and grinned.  "Sorry about that, Gerry.  It goes with the job, I
guess."

He smiled back and said, "Tell me about it."  Then he continued, "Our guys
enjoy playing cards, having a few drinks, exchanging ideas and sometimes
information.  It's a time to kick back and forget the work week.  You'll be
surprised who you see there.  A judge.  A member of the city council.
Several doctors and a dentist.  A prominent architect.  People in high
profile, high pressure jobs."

"I see."

"The whole evening is to let guys kick back, relax, and just be guys.
After the cards, we usually have some sort of entertainment."

"Like what?"

"Well, sometimes a really primo porn video.  Once in a while we get in some
"live" entertainment."

"God, don't tell me it turns into an orgy!"

He held up his hands in a placating way.  "No, Jim, nothing like that.  The
only time the members ever touch a guest is occasionally to stuff money
into a stripper's g-string . . . or jock.  So, big guy, what do you say?
Wanna give it a try?"

"Did you say `jock'?"

He grinned again.  "Yeah.  We have diverse tastes, so our entertainment is
sometimes female, sometimes male."

He looked him straight in the eye.  "Is this some sort of gay club?"

"No, not really.  A couple of the members are gay.  Several are bi, I
think.  Some are straight, I know, but they are also pretty flexible about
what they like to watch."

"No strings, right?  I won't be pressured to join the group if I decide
it's not for me?"

"Absolutely no strings.  Just come and be with us Friday, and then we'll
see what happens.  I think I can promise you a memorable evening.  After a
pause, he continued, "So, the other guys and I would really like you to
check us out.  What do you say?"

I took a deep breath and, against my better judgment, said, "Sure.  I think
that sounds interesting.  When and where?"

"I'll pick you up at your house at 8:00, okay?  Oh, and this is very
informal.  Jeans or khakis are fine, but no shorts."

"Sure."


Friday night came.  Gerry took me to a section of town where the very
wealthy lived.  When we arrived at a large tudor-style house, we were
greeted by Harvey Blakemore, a legal colleague, senior member of a large
downtown firm.  Reminding me to call him Harve, he took me into a huge room
off the foyer and introduced me to the others.  I'd say there were about
fifteen men there, all my age or older except for Gerry, who is a half
dozen years younger than me, say in his late thirties.  I already knew some
of them casually, and I knew who all of them were.  They were very
friendly.

After the introductions, Harvey took me to a bar recessed in one wall of
the room and asked me what I wanted to drink.  I asked for and got my usual
Talisker.

The conversation was light, lively, fascinating.  These were interesting
guys, obviously comfortable together.  There was a camaraderie among them
that I sensed immediately.  It would be nice, I thought, to be a part of a
group like this.  I wondered if it was perhaps the second scotch, but I
also noticed that they were all very good looking guys.  I suppose it was
important in their respective professions, but they all obviously worked
out or played sports to keep themselves trim.

As the evening wore on, I was glad they didn't play for money.  They would
have cleaned me out.  They were convivial, but they were sharks about their
poker.  I was obviously the all-round loser by the time we quit, and I took
some good-natured ribbing about that.

"Gentlemen, please get refills for your drinks before the entertainment
begins," Harve said.  There was a general movement toward the bar.  I
thought at the time two scotches were enough, but Gerry handed me another.
Then he held his glass up to clink it against mine, and I had a swallow of
the whisky.  I thanked him and turned around to see what would happen next.

At the opposite end of the room, a couple of guys, not members of the
group, obviously, were arranging comfortable chairs in two semicircles
around a cleared area that would obviously serve as a stage.  When they
were finished, Harve said to me, "Jim, since you're the guest of honor
tonight, we want you to sit front row center."  He led me to a chair and
gestured for me to sit down.  Then he said, quietly, "Seats, please,
gentlemen."  Gerry sat on my left and Harve on my right.

As the others took their seats, the lights dimmed so that only the "stage"
area was brightly lit.  Then from speakers that must have been all around
the room came the quiet opening strains of Ravel's "Bolero."

SW:

As I sat "backstage" with Cronin and Kinsey, waiting for them to do their
routine, I couldn't help gloating.  It had all worked out perfectly.  I had
let that toady Bowman think I was acting on orders from my dad.  Bowman had
always been Dad's mole in the DA's office, so it was easy enough to make
him think that while the `rents were away on their cruise I was in charge.

Mike and Jason had, I must say, learned the routine to perfection.  I was
proud of myself for thinking up the whole thing, and really pleased that
they had gotten so good at performing it.

And now here we were.  My dad's nemesis, James Cronin, District Attorney,
was sitting out there, totally unaware that his career was about to be
over.  He'd not be making things difficult for Watkins Enterprises,
Inc. any more.  I was going to take pictures of him and Mike, and those
pictures, once we established that the guy in the hood was Mike, would ruin
Cronin in this city.  Maybe mean he'd lose his right to practice law.  It
was all working out perfectly!  My old man was going to be so proud of me!

JC:

Just after the music established the mood, entering from our left came two
guys, neither more than twenty, I'd guess, though I couldn't see their
faces for reasons which I'll explain in a moment.  I made a mental note to
check with Harve and make sure the boys were both at least 18, but then I
realized he wouldn't risk everything he had at stake to use underage boys
in a situation like that.

The first guy, 5'9" or so, had his head shaved.  He was wearing a leather
chest harness and black leather chaps.  His genitals were enclosed in a
sort of zipper pouch, and, as we were soon to discover, his ass ware bare.
He had on a black mask of the sort one might wear to a masked ball.  It hid
enough of his face to disguise his identity, but didn't cover his mouth.
My cock twitched as soon as I saw him.  His arms, chest and pits had no
hair.  His lithe body was nicely tanned, even his beautiful ass.

But the second guy was the one who really took my eye.  He was being led by
a leash fastened to a slave collar.  Two or three inches taller than the
first guy, he had a slightly more muscular upper body.  He, too, had a nice
tan, and we could see just about all of it.  In addition to the slave
collar, he had nipple rings which were connected by a chain which seemed to
be tight enough to pull constantly on the rings, making the wearer always
feel them, I imagine.  The "slave" had only two other items of apparel, a
black leather pouch, and a black leather hood.  Quite clearly he had no
body hair at all.  I couldn't see his head or face, but everything from the
neck down has been shaved.  He was being led, presumably, because the eye
openings in the hood were closed.  Obviously he could breathe and hear.
There was also an ample opening for his mouth.

The cock pouch of the first guy, "the master," was bulging obscenely.  He
obviously had a full-fledged erection.  The slave's cock was also very
hard.  We could see a good portion of it sticking up above his pouch.

When they came to center stage, they were greeted by a round of polite
applause from the onlookers.  There were no catcalls or hoots or anything
like that.

Now, I should remind you that "Bolero" starts softly.  The rhythm is
incredibly sexy, and the music rises in volume and intensity very gradually
for, I'd guess, fifteen minutes.  By the time it ends, it sounds absolutely
orgiastic, wonderfully appropriate for what was going on in front of us.  I
was beginning to feel warm all over, flushed perhaps.  The Talisker was
getting to me more than usual, and I was becoming aroused, perhaps from the
combination of the scotch, the music, and the scene I was watching.

The master unhooked the leash and cast it aside.  Then he stuck two fingers
in the slave's mouth to be sucked.  The slave sucked them eagerly.  I was
getting hotter and harder watching the little kid dominate the bigger one,
especially since the slave seemed to throw himself into his role.  Slowly,
so slowly, the master put the slave through his paces, as if he were
showing off a gaited riding horse.

I can't remember the exact sequence, but the slave first lay down and
kissed each of the master's feet.  Then the slave got up on his knees and
the master turned his delicious little bare ass toward the slave.  The
slave kissed each cheek.  Nothing very suggestive there, just a kiss of
"respect."  Both boys had beautiful asses, asses that made my mouth water.
I had to adjust my cock.  Gerry noticed and grinned.  I saw him put his
hand to his own crotch.

Next the two did some side by side dancing, the sort of things dancers in
strip clubs do, with lots of wiggling and pelvis thrusting, and I had to
squirm in my seat to adjust my cock again.  I was wearing boxers, and I
hoped I wasn't leaking enough to show through the khakis I'd elected to
wear instead of jeans.

There was a ripple of applause after the boys quit dancing.  With a touch
on the shoulder, the slave knelt.  He unfastened the chaps so the master
stood there only in his harness and a black pouch.  Obviously he had no
body hair either.  My mouth was dry, and I took another swallow of my
drink.  I was surprised to find that the glass was empty, so I set it on
the floor next to my chair.

What followed was an incredible job of simulating sex between men, all done
to the throbbing rhythms of the music and the throbbing of my dick.  The
slave nuzzled the master's pouch and then would pull back and make his lips
into an O, but he never put his lips on the pouch.  When the master
presented his backside, the slave licked his butt cheeks very suggestively.
Then he pulled back, took the master's cheeks and spread them apart with
his hands.  He stuck his tongue out and made licking motions with it, but
an inch or so from actually touching the crack.

Then the master turned and smiled down at the slave kneeling at his feet.
I was blown away by the smile.  There wasn't a hint of cruelty to it.  I
couldn't see his eyes because of the mask, but I'd swear his was proud of
his partner, even that he loved him.

He held out his hands to the slave.  The slave took the master's hands.
This must have been carefully rehearsed, for the slave had no way of seeing
his master.  Holding his master's hands, he stood up.

Then the two began to slide their hands over each other's bodies.  They
licked each other's necks, they stood, one behind the other, and simulated
fucking.  I was ready to blow my wad at that point.  I should have been
uncomfortable, embarrassed by my hard on and my inability to keep from
adjusting my cock, but I felt very relaxed and happy.  I was thoroughly
enjoying myself.  So much so, in fact, that I became aware that I was
moaning quietly as I watched.

As I said, I was sitting between Harve and Gerry.  Harve had a broad smile
on his face, but he wasn't moving around or wiggling and moaning like me.
Why was I moaning?  Because of the show I was watching, but why just me?
Gerry leaned over and asked, "Enjoying this, Jim?"

"Oh, yeah," I groaned, rubbing my stiff rod through my pants.  I felt a
moist spot and looked down.  Yep, I'd leaked through.  "Oh, what the hell,"
I said to myself and turned my attention back to the boys on the stage.

Now they were facing each other, heads back, mouths open, arms flailing,
and pelvises thrusting towards each other.  Both had erections sticking up
out of their pouches, and I could see that both their cockheads were shiny
with precum.

As the music came to its crashing conclusion, both boys dropped their
pouches to the floor and faced the audience, standing side by side, their
hard pricks bobbing and dripping in front of them.  I almost came on the
spot.

There was much more vigorous applause at that point, and they took several
bows.

Then Harve stood and faced the audience.  "Gentlemen, as is our custom, we
have a special treat for our guest."  He put his hand on my shoulder to
keep me from standing, I suppose.  "Jim, we're sure you're going to enjoy
their encore."

The little guy took the bigger one by the hand and led him directly to me.
When the slave was right in front of me, a touch on the butt signaled him
to kneel in front of me.

Speaking to me, the master said, "My slave has many talents.  He'd like to
show you one of them, if you don't object."

I couldn't have said no at that moment if my life had depended on it.
(Little did I know how much of the rest of my life DID depend on my actions
there.)  I swallowed and nodded at the speaker.

The slave, kneeling in front of me, not a hair on his body, cock hard, red,
throbbing to his heartbeat, and dripping, reached for and found my belt
buckle.  He unfastened it, undid the top button of my khakis, and pulled
down the zip.

The little guy said, "Sir, will you let my slave pull down your trousers?"

I lifted my butt, and the kneeling slave pulled down my pants and boxers to
my ankles.  Then he grabbed my cock and went after it like a Hoover.  I
must say he was very talented.  He knew where to lick for maximum effect,
and he alternated sucking with swirling his tongue and licking my most
sensitive places.  I zoned out.  I didn't want him ever to quit.  This was
far and away the best blow job I'd ever had.

The others were getting into it now, muttering encouragement softly, to me
and to the cocksucker.  Many of them were rubbing their cocks as they
watched.

Truth to say, however, it didn't last very long because I was already too
aroused from their routine on stage.  All too soon I erupted.  I don't
think I ever came that long, that hard, or that much, but the slave,
obviously an experienced cocksucker, swallowed it all, not missing a drop.

I took a minute or so to get my breath.  Then I couldn't help myself.  The
slave was still kneeling between my legs, and I had to see the boy's face.
He started to say something, but I reached down and pulled off his hood.

"Dad!"

"My God!  Mike!"


EPILOGUE

The aftermath to these events was complicated, and there's no need to go
into all the details here.  Some of the end results are as follows.

Unbeknownst to anyone at the time, Seth took pictures of Mike sucking his
father, including one just at the moment when Jim pulled off the mask and
the two recognized each other.  Those pictures surfaced lots of places.
Marta Cronin received copies by express courier.  Copies showed up at the
DA's office, at the office of the rector of the church the Cronins
attended, at the offices of both of the city's newspapers, and at the local
bar association headquarters.

Gerald Bowman left the DA's staff to become head counsel for Watkins
Enterprises, Inc.

Insisting that her husband had been unfaithful to her while having
incestuous relations with their son, Marta Cronin filed for divorce.

James Cronin resigned as District Attorney, and his second in command,
Martha Sexton, took over his job.  She oversaw the legal actions that came
about after everything hit the fan.

Willie's mother, claiming she had no idea Seth was going to inveigle Willie
into telling the lies he had to Mike and Jason, admitted that Seth had paid
off her mortgage.  Mike and Jason gave depositions.  As a result, Seth was
charged with an assortment of things, including kidnapping, blackmail,
contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and when he tried to influence
Mrs. Daniels and Willie to change their testimony, subornation of perjury.

Bart Watkins didn't want a long trial of his son with its attendant
negative publicity, so he persuaded Seth to plea bargain.  Seth is now at a
downstate prison where, word has it, with his tanned body, blond hair, and
blue eyes, he's very popular with certain of the inmates.

Jim Cronin didn't contest the divorce.  He is now practicing law in San
Jose.

The website Seth had set up was closed down, and the sale of the cd's
halted.  But, fearing the damage had been done, Jason decided not to enroll
at State that fall.  He's now living with relatives in Berkeley and
attending the University of California, where he's already found a circle
of gay friends.

Mike was devastated.  He had lost his girlfriend.  His roommate from the
previous year had watched him performing sex acts with Jason.  He had
performed naked in front of the Cadre, some of the city's most influential
men.  He had been subjected to every sort of humiliation and degradation
the devious mind of Seth Watkins could come up with.  Pictures of him doing
these things had been posted to the web, literally hundreds of them.  Sales
of the cd had been phenomenal during the few weeks it was available.  And,
perhaps worst of all, he had publicly given his own father a blowjob and
had been photographed doing it.  Marta said she couldn't bear to see her
son again after she saw the pictures of him sucking his father's dick.

Taking what money he could scrape up and a duffel of clothing, he drove to
Key West.  He lived in the cheapest motel he could find until his money ran
out.  Then he lived either in his car or on the beach.  Eventually, he took
to turning tricks.

At last report he was the slave boy of a stockbroker in Pittsburgh.

THE END


This was my first extended venture into this kind of story.  You have been
generous in your emails and your kind comments.  I have tried to answer
each email I've received.  If I have missed anyone, I apologize.  Thanks to
everyone who's written me!  Special thanks go to Al, who suggested that
this would have been a more interesting story if Mike were truly straight.
I think he's probably right, but too much of the story had been written by
that time to change it.  As I've said in the prefaces, however, I did use
some of his ideas in the later chapters, and I am grateful to him for them.
-Max