Date: Thu, 25 Nov 2004 20:31:56 -0800 (PST)
From: Jake K <sublawyer1965@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Real Me Part 1 (MM BD)

This is a work of fiction. It involves sex between two men, including some
non-consenual acts. If such would offend you, or if reading such is illegal
for you due to location or age, please do not continue. Direct all comments
or suggestions to sublawyer1965@yahoo.com - and please enjoy!!!

*****

I was not a party-boy... hell, I was no longer ANY kind of boy. At 36 I was
ancient by typical gay circuit-boy standards. But I looked younger, and I
worked out to keep myself in great shape. I was 6 foot 3 inches tall, and I
weighed in at 183 pounds -- all muscle, covered in a light dusting of hair.
My hair is mid-length black, and my five o'clock shadow typically shows up
about noon. I have been told I am goodlooking, but I like to think I am
more the ruggedly handsome guy who you cannot exactly say -WHY- he is
handsome, but you just know he is.

I went to a local leather bar often enough to be a regular -- the bartender
knew who I was and did not need to ask my order. I always get a fair amount
of attention. I had a reputation as an aggressive top, who played very
rough but safe, and concerned for my bottoms. Everyone assumed I was some
sort of construction guy, simply because of my attitude and the fact that I
never wore new clothes or anything high fashion.  I never corrected their
wrong impressions.

What amused me about it, however, was I was one of the highest paid lawyers
in the city. I was part of a firm that handled the movers and shakers in
the area, and I had all their numbers in my Palm Pilot. At work, I dressed
in hand-made suits, drove flashy cars, lived in a great house on the
lake... and truthfully, I did not like the lifestyle. I loved my job, but
the showmanship it took to do it well was the price I paid. Given a chance
I would be in jeans and boots, working in the yard or playing ball with
some friends.

It was fairly busy when I got there, it looked like it was a college night.
Inwardly I groaned -- the bar had changed owners recently and to make more
money they started appealing to college guys who were posers in leather and
denim. I was not a overly-experienced guy in terms of bondage and
discipline, but at least for me it was a real interest. For most of these
guys, it was a titillating diversion, doing something forbidden before
going back to the frat house and getting bombed with their friends.

I went to the bar and ordered a beer, and took it to the side, sitting on a
bar stool and watching the crowd. Of course I expected to see loads of
pretty boys who I would never ever take home -- I wanted someone who looked
like he did not need two hours to get ready to go out. Someone like me - I
wore fitted but broken in jeans, a sleeveless tee tight neough to show off
the gym-work, and a pair of worn but solid work boots. A few guys I knew
came and we talked a bit but they were leaving, said the crowd was too
kiddy for them. After another half hour I was thinking they were right and
deciding to leave when I saw him.

He was 5 foot 8 inches, short enough to stand out in the crowd. From his
face, he had to be about 23 or 24, not a kid anymore, but still young. His
hair was blonde, but naturally so, not some hair salon dye job. Tanned,
athletic body, and his eyes...bright green that even in the dimmed light
seemed electric. He wore a pair of jeans that were tight enough to show off
every curve on his frame, from the bubble butt to an extremely impressive
bulge in the front.

But what really got my attention was how he walked -- he moved like he
owned the place. Men just moved out of his way without thinking or
stopping, and he went by them without even noticing them. Every now and
then someone would try to talk to him, but he would look at them, and in a
heartbeat decide he was not interested, and move on thru the crowd. When he
looked at me, our eyes seemed to lock, and for the first time he grinned --
not to sound too girly but he was so fucking sexy with that grin I wanted
to melt into the wall.

He walked over to me, and stood against the wall, looking out at the
crowd. Without a word he took my beer, drank a swig then handed it
back. Still not looking at me, he said "You're Jake, been looking for you."
It was not a question - he knew who I was before he spoke to me.

And oh man, was I happy my reputation proceeded me now. "Yeah, but sorry to
say no idea who you are...?"

"Name is Scott, know a couple of guys I know who told me about you, said
you were one of the big dogs here." He took my beer back and took another
drink. Holding it up to the light to se ehow much was left he said,
"Looking like this is gonna be empty soon, Jake, go get us a couple more
and let's talk."

It was not til I was at the bar and paying for the two beers that I
realized ... he had ordered me to get them, and I had just done it. What the
fuck? I had not taken orders from anyone since I left my parents' house at
17.

I went back, and handed him a beer, then decided I needed to put this kid
in his place. "So Scotty-boy, how old are you? Look older then the rest of
these guys."

He grinned, and drank some of the beer. "Well, you will probably be amazed
when I tell you I am only 18. And it is Scott, no boy on there." As he said
that he slapped my right ass cheek, just hard enough to sting. "Got that,
Jake?" He left his hand on my ass, and massaged it thru my jeans.

As he did, I felt my cock tingling. What the hell was this, some kid young
enough to be my son was slapping my ass, ordering me around, and my cock
LIKED it? What the fuck was going on with me? I moved away from him, not
speaking, trying to put a stern look on my face. He just grinned.

"See, my friends told me you topped them but they said there was
something... diffident about you. When I fucked them, they said they could
tell the difference, Jake - they saw a guy who did what he wanted, and they
went along because they really had no choice. But I kept meeting guys you
messed around with, and the more they told me about you, the more I wanted
to meet you, and see what this almost-top-stud was like. Jason ... you
remember him, right?... he said you were always asking how he felt and what
he wanted, instead of taking what you wanted. And now that I have, I can
see it myself -- you are just in need of someone to show you your place."

"Fuck off, punk. I have been fucking ass since before you were born, I do
not need you to try and tell me I am not a top." Even as I said it, I heard
the shrill tone in my voice. The kid had gotten to me. Thinking back on it,
I do remember asking Jason how he felt a lot -- but that was just me being
concerned, right...any good dom thought about his sub. I did do that with
all the guys I fucked, but it was what I was supposed to do, right? A voice
in the back of my head, however, kept saying a good dom took care of his
sub, but he did not need to ask him anything -- he KNEW and he TOOK because
he knew the sub wanted it that way. And a true dom did not do something
because he was SUPPOSED to do it, he made his own rules.

Scott moved closer, and his hand again caressed my ass, kneading the flesh.
I was so lost in my own thoughts I did not even notice, and even moved
closer to him. It was when he laughed again that I realized what I had
done. My face turned beet red.

His hand reached up to my shoulder, and he pulled me down some, so he could
whisper in my ear. "It is okay, Jake, sometimes we become something because
we THINK it is was we should be, and believe me, most guys would think a
tall stud like you would be a top. But what you NEED is to have a guy take
control, don't you?" As he was talking his hand went down the back of my
jeans, and he worked his finger into my crack and found my hole. As he
spoke, he rubbed it, pushing against it roughly. I could not help it, I
moaned quietly -- if he were not right next to me, he would not have heard
it - but he was, he did, and he chuckled at it.

"See, I have known I was a dominant guy since I was 14, Jake. I used to
make high school seniors blow me -- even as small as I was, I had some of
the football team on their knees. It is just my place. And I love it, Jake.
I love being in control -- making the decisions of where to go, what to do,
movies to see, all the choices you hate to make."

My mind was foggy, with his finger working into my ass, but I had to admit,
I DID hate making choices. All I did all damn day long was decide things
for clients who were too meek to stand up and take a risk, so they asked me
to tell them what to do. Buy this land, offer this deal, stand firm and
fight it out in court... everyone wanted me to do it all.

His other hand went into my front pocket and he pulled my keys out. "Let's
go to your place, Jake, and ... get to know one another. I think you need
it, yes?" As he said this he jabbed deep into me, hitting my prostate. I
had never been fucked or fingered before this, so the wave of pleasure that
shot thru me was intense -- and all I could do was nod my head in agreement
as I moaned again. He pulled his hand out of my jeans, which left me oddly
deflated, and started towards the door. He did not look back at me, simply
assuming I would follow. At first I stood still, still fighting with
myself. But in a few seconds I walked after him. He did have my keys, after
all.

Yeah, sure, it was just to get the keys...

*****

This is my first story, so any and all feedback is welcome -- and though I
have some ideas where this is going to go (it is based somewhat on what I
would like to find in real life {hint hint guys}) any thoughts on where you
would like it to go? Just go easy on the first-timer, okay guys? -
Sublawyer1965@yahoo.com