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Twenty Minutes To Midnight
I looked at my watch, then at the light rain that pelted the windshield of my black late model sedan. I had only five minutes left until it was time, time to enter the club across the street, Mr. X. The club belonged to a friend of mine, an older man, Xavier Chase. It was a combination dance, bar and sex club. Sex club? Those were allowed now-a-days? Yes. Taxed, controlled and monitored, but allowed.
Xavier once advised me to never enter any after-hours club until twenty minutes to midnight. Any earlier and they would think you were too anxious and needy, any later and you might miss out on the best part of any evening, especially on the weekend, the chiming of midnight, the hour that suddenly, everything changed from old to new, a new day, but still night and a chance to meet "that special someone." I had no such belief. There was no Mr. Right, no "special someone" or single person to satisfy this man's needs, not in a bar or club anyway.
I sighed, there would be no dry entry this night, the light rain had turned into a sudden torrential down-pouring; but it was time, twenty minutes to midnight. I locked my car as I left it and headed the half block to the cross-walk, the collar of my leather jacket pulled up around my neck. The traffic was, as always for a Friday night, murderous. Better to be hit in a legal crossing zone than risk a J-walking citation, however. Those were expensive now-a-days.
I made it to the corner just as the cross-walk sign turned green. That seemed good luck, a sign perhaps, but then again, wasn't everything a sign of luck now-a-days, good or bad? I didn't believe in luck anyway, save for the luck you made for yourself through hard work. I took one step onto the street and then I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye and stopped and stepped back. The light turned red shortly after.
Stunning. What could I say otherwise? He looked young and stunning. I guessed seventeen years old, maybe even sixteen; an age usually far too young for me, far too stupid, dangerous and inexperienced in most cases. I didn't mind a boy who didn't know the ropes, didn't know the first thing about pleasing another man's sexual needs, but he needed to at least be out of diapers.
This one I judged not only to be a rank amateur, but an invitation to adoption papers as well; a runaway perhaps? Young drug fiend? There was a lot of youth in those circumstances in recent years despite all of the governmental laws, shelters and programs. But this kid didn't really fit that bill. Maybe his suburban Mommy and Daddy did not approve of their son's habits or proclivities, especially sexual; there was still a lot of that too, despite laws that were now decades old banning any kind of distinction or preeminence of one orientation versus another.
He looked at me, the rain having wet his blonde hair down in a mat that resembled a porn star's I had once dated during a photo shoot. That's what I did. I was a pornography photographer for an underground magazine called just that, "Porn Magazine," a strangely plain and old-fashioned name, but effective. This was the age of simple, one word or one letter names for everything, just like the club across the street, Mr. X.
"Looking for a date?" he asked, his voice trying to be deeper than it really was. Was that his come-on line? I almost laughed, but didn't. I didn't approve of trolling for young flesh for myself; it was too addictive and a weakness of mine, but I still did it from time to time to the limits of so-called legality. "How old are you anyway kid?" I responded, way too paternally for even my tastes. At age twenty-seven, I had no reason or motivation to have a family of any kind. I was a loner and a maverick, it was what drove my business and my pleasures.
"I'm….just twenty-on, um, just yesterday," he said with all the confidence of a thiretten year old. His face was pristine, even pretty, his lips red and formed in a way that made him photographically almost classic. "Are you a model by chance?" I asked, then kicked myself. Why was I in business mode?
"Well no, but I'll try anything once." He replied with a cute dimpled smile. I looked at his clothes, definitely not poor, nor rich. Yup, he was likely from about twenty-five miles out from the center of the city, a suburb laced with toxic parents who exuded sameness, yet their son was not the same, that's why he was here tonight. And I doubted he had tried anything once even.
"You're not twenty-one, you have to be at least eighteen to gain entrance to Mr.X and I don't think you're even that, kid." I said, knowing that's what he really wanted. He looked away from me and across the street. Yup, busted. "I am too, I have ID" and pulled it out and gave it to me. I looked at it. It was a poor imitation. I had seen worse, but a lot better too. His would never pass Benjamin, the doorman and bouncer for Xavier's club.
"This is crap," I said and tossed it into the street, and a car ran it over in a second. He looked crushed. He must have spent at least $500.00 for it, a lot of money even now, but it was to teach him a lesson, push his tail between his knees and force him to crawl back to where he came from, the suburbs, where individuality goes to die. His head dipped down, "I'm … only eighteen."
That was better. But the way his head dipped and his lips curled downward, gave my photographer's eye a whole other view, a classic pose. I loved it. Where was my camera when I needed it most sometimes? "Try again," I said. "OK … I'm really seventeen," and he looked up at me, begging me to take him with me, into Mr. X if possible. Was it possible? Of course. Everything was possible if you knew the right people. That had never changed.
"And you want to go in there?" I said looking across the street where no less than two-hundred males and females of the correct age minimum waited to get past Benjamin, a large black man, and his two other very large white male assistants. "Yes, with you," he replied with the obvious. "Why me?" I challenged. "Because … it's … it's what I want … every guy wants to go in there for a hundred miles around." I knew that. "Yes, but why me, why tonight?" His head dipped down, "I have to try something. I can't go home." Now I was curious, "Why not?"
"My parents, they caught me, with another boy in my bed." Like I said, that sort of thing still existed. There was no law against being stupid or raising kids in an oppressive environment; just don't let the government catch you with an ignorant parental decision like that. You might get audited by child services or sent an extra large tax bill. Still, not my problem. "Look kid, I'm sorry. Go to The Mission," the place where orphans and runaways under twenty-one could go for safe shelter, food and placement in a foster home if needed.
"I don't want to go there. That's not where I belong." Not where he belongs? That was novel. I sighed, "Sorry kid." and started to walk across the street again with the green indicator. The rain had thankfully stopped. "Please! … Please Mr. Sears, don't turn me down. I have nowhere to go!" He knew my name. "So, you know who I am, so you?" I asked, probably not surprised. "Yes, are you kidding me? Every kid in my high school class knows who Thurman Sears is, if they're cool and hip that is."
"Cool" and "hip." Did they still use words like that in high schools? "Good, then tell them that Thurman Sears does not pick up on underage boys." A partial lie but a useful one in this case. "I don't want sex, just … " and I could hardly wait to hear what it was he did want, "Just what?" That was always the pick-up line, then the sex after the negotiation was always the best ever. He looked down, "I read the story attached to the photo-shoot you did for Porn Magazine two issues ago at Mr. X, "A Case Of Denial"
"A Case Of Denial," was written by Y.Z. Abernathy, my ghost-writer's name. And yes, I wrote erotic fiction, mostly about sex laced with corporal punishment and control themes. That issue of "Porn" had sold out in less than 24 hours, a run of 2.2 million copies, just like that. Legal? Oh yes. Taxed, monitored and carefully distributed, but legal. I had no doubt that various issues of Porn fell into underage hands here and there.
"Hmm, turn you on did it?" I asked a bit sarcastically. The story was about a boy, about this boy's age, who got more or less kidnapped into a white slavery scam. It was base and simple fiction but effective. That's what still sold, always had. "Yes, it did. I loved it, please Mr.Sears, take me in there with you." I sighed, "Look, what's your name?"
"Ethan, Ethan Hendrick," he replied. "Well, Ethan Hendrick. That photo shoot at Mr. X was phony, but what goes on inside of Mr. X is not. You could end up, well, quite painfully exposed to some rather sophisticated activities that I doubt even your imagination could inspire." He firmed his reply, "But I do it anyway, to myself."
"Do what?" I said glancing at my watch. It was now almost ten minutes past midnight. I had violated Xavier's ironclad rule. "I spank myself, with a small hairbrush." I stood there. I had done that. Young Thurman "Tad" Sears had done that so many years ago. No kid, no matter how fake his ID was or what age, would say a thing like that unless he really did it. I looked around us. Should I or should I not? "Ethan, look, I'm sorry. I just can't, OK?"
Ethan's face fell a moment, then he looked up, "Then pay me for that ID you threw away please. I spent ten months of allowance on it."I did the math. Cheap fucking parents, especially for now-a-days. But I was unmoved. "Too bad kid. You used poor judgment tonight. Go home, earn more allowance, but spend it on something more useful, OK?"
"Easy for you to say, you city types are all alike aren't you? You talk about big city individuality and criticize suburbanites. But when somebody like me comes along without any means and tries to be different, to fit into the unusual, be my own man instead of the ordinary, you just toss me out. Sounds like a crap-load of hypocrisy to me."
Well, at least he had a brain and was using it. No sale. I reached into my pocket, found a wad of 20's and threw a bunch at him and finding the crossing light green, took off across the street and didn't look at him. He shouted after me, "Thanks for nothing Mr.Rich Man!"
* * * * * * * * * *
Benjamin whisked me into the din of the club with all its lighting, hard dense dance music, alcohol and other synthetic pharmaceutical niceties, If one so desired. I plowed through the madding crowds of party-goers, talked briefly to a few friends and then found my way upstairs to the VIP lounge. Xavier Chase was there, surrounded by his young men, some very young, as young as Ethan whom I left out on the street. The difference from Ethan was that these boys had grown up on Xavier's teat as it were. And by "grown up," I mean that Xavier was The Mission's main private financial sponsor.
I had never been about making any kind of moral judgment on any man, including Xavier's habit of plucking up just the pretty boys who ended up at The Mission for his own purposes. He poured the kind of money into that social night-mare of an agency that it desperately needed to survive and if he could induce a boy or two to his side from that place, good for them both, I suppose.
He was kind to them and they in turn, knew how or learned how to please him and his friends. I guess I could not complain as one sidled immediately over to me, a boy I was grooming to be one of my models for the magazine. His name was Roderick, or Roddy. I had no idea if that was his real name. Models or potential models had no last names or I didn't have to know them at any rate. Roddy was a very hot number indeed, about eighteen years and six months old if I recalled correctly.
"Mr.Sears, I thought you'd never show up, you're late," He smiled seductively at me. He knew that a Porn Magazine model made bank and that I was the key to that bank. Lucky me. "So what Roddy, are you going to spank me?" I replied with my usual sarcasm. "No sir, you're going to spank me, if I'm lucky."
"Don't tease Mr.Sears, Roddy, not unless you intend to do it. You know the rules." I looked over at Xavier and smiled, "How's my favorite night club owner?" I smiled back through his chemical haze, "Fit as a fiddle Tad, fit as a fiddle and as you can see, very occupied."
Few were allowed to call me Tad. Let's see, there was Xavier and oh yes, Kline Carter, the owner of Porn Magazine, yes, that's about it. And yes, Xavier was occupied, by five other naked boys, all looking fairly trim and very hot, like Roddy and like Roddy, all dressed just in jock-straps of course, some of them already with very red bare bottoms. Xavier and I believed and practiced the same religion, the church of discipline for fun and pleasure that is. I looked down. Roddy's bottom was pristine. He saw me, "Mr.Chase told me I had to wait for my candy tonight, from you Mr.Sears."
Roddy's intellect left something to be desired, that was for sure, but his bare bottom did not leave anything lacking, not for what I wanted it for. I fastened my hand to the back of Roddy's neck, squeezing it just a little, "Go get me a Manhattan Roddy, and a diet soda for you, then we'll see." He grinned back with a very nice set of white pearlies, another nice trait of a Xavier Chase boy, "Yes sir!" both of us knowing what would soon happen and ran off downstairs to the bar. I walked over to my old friend and sat, "So, how is business Xavier?"
"Very good as always, though I've been thinking. Maybe I should sell this place and open a new one." I chuckled to myself, Xavier was always scheming, "Sell it? I thought you told me never to leverage wild success against any risk. Besides, you have the only license around for miles. Who would buy it under those circumstances?" He grinned, "Nobody. It was just a thought, but I have bought the building next door to expand." I grinned back, "As always Chase, you're two steps ahead of us all."
And by then, Roddy was already back upstairs with my drink, the bartender having anticipated my desire. Then as Roddy handed me the Manhattan, he spilled just a drop of it on my leather jacket. That was a huge no-no and Roddy knew it, "Oh, I am so sorry Mr. Sears!" but bent over and gently licked the droplet off my jacket. "Tsk, tsk Roddy, now ask Mr. Sears for punishment," Xavier advised. "Please Mr. Sears, please punish me for my clumsiness," he requested of me, quite sincerely in fact. "Oh you will be punished Roddy …" I assured him, "… and speaking of that, run downstairs to room number ten, as usual and wait for me."
"Yes sir!" and off he ran, me observing his beautiful buttocks as they bounced out the doorway. I waited a short while, said goodbye to Xavier for the evening and made my way downstairs to room number ten, tapped in the passcode to the door and entered, blotting out the club's din in an instant. It was heaven what Xavier had created in terms of private rooms for sexual purposes. The room was equipped with everything a man could desire or at least the things that I desired. Roddy was fully naked now, standing and waiting for me, holding a plain leather belt in his hand.
I ignored him for the moment, went over to a small area and removed my jacket, kicked off my shoes and removed my pants, shirt and basically got as naked as Roddy was in just a few moments of time. My penis was raging hard and needed release, but we were a ways off from that yet. Roddy's was as well. I said nothing, pointed to my feet and he came over immediately, kneeling and holding up the leather belt to me. The walls around us were filled with various implements, actually hundreds of them.
A lot of them were just decorations, but every one of them was functional. I didn't care, I preferred simplicity and a touch of domestic flavor as well. Things such as whips and chains did not please me at all. A leather belt, an old fashioned hairbrush and even my own hand sufficed for my purposes, sometimes a cane or a strap as well. Roddy knew this of course. I took the belt and put my hand under his chin, lifting it up in my grasp, "Spilling drinks sloppily on the customers are we?"
"Yes Mr. Sears," he said. I loathed apologies and Roddy pleased me with his response. "You do want that modeling contract with the magazine don't you?" I said, just as a tease, not a threat. "More than anything Sir!" he replied quickly. "You also know that a contract will not absolve you from your other duties to your future boss, me?" He smiled. Roddy was so much more appealing with a gentle and unforced smile, "Of course not sir."
"Stand up." I commanded. He obeyed. I loved using the belt from all angles and directions, with and without furniture. I looked down; Roddy's penis was as rigid as I had ever seen it. I was well pleased. I just moved into him, chest to chest, caressed the back of his head into my shoulder and felt our hard penises collide. The rest was easy and elegant. I doubled up the belt and lashed it across his naked buttocks as hard as I could from that angle ten times. Roddy's hands clutched at my hips, his finger tips curling around to the top of my bare buttocks, digging in hard and pressured with every cut.
Then I paused and moved him slightly away from me, caressing his chin once again and lifting it up, looked at his face. It was red and two tears streaming down from his eyes. These were honest tears, the kind that moved even a hard man as I perceived myself to be sometimes. I had a home gymnasium and worked my upper body obsessively. I could flick that belt with a lot of force, even standing as we were, "That was for your error Roderick, are you sorry?"
"Yes Mr.Sears, it won't happen again." he said sincerely. "See that it doesn't," then I tossed the belt aside. Even I knew better than to get carried away with anything other than my hand with buttocks as beautiful and tender as Roddy's. "Hug me then," I commanded and he did. Then I caressed his body, especially his bare bottom. He was still rock hard despite the pain, a necessary characteristic for any of my models at the magazine. I squeezed his buttocks gently, and whispered in his ear, "If you behave yourself tonight and please me, I may even take you home with me."
"Oh please yes Mr.Sears, I want that more than anything!" he said fairly effectively. "Don't lie to me. What you want more than anything is that contract." I challenged him and he quickly gave in, "Yes sir," he said, caught in his harmless lie and I instantly forgave him. This was after all, business. His business was to please me to get a very valuable contract with me at the magazine; my business was to enjoy myself at his expense and decide whether I wanted him or not. I know, it sounds cold and heartless, go figure.
"I've decided I'm going to give you a very hard spanking, then we are going to dance our butts off outside and then I will take you home with me, happy now?" He grinned, "Very!" And so we did just that. I took Roddy with me over to a leather couch, sat and drew him across my knees. I spanked his bare bottom slowly and methodically. I wanted his behind beet red for the dance floor. It would thrill the patrons, naturally. I wanted to fuck him later, I didn't care about getting off right then. But I was not him. About halfway through the spanking, Roddy reared up and ejaculated his semen, all over my leg. He didn't know it, but that sealed the deal for me. He would have his contract, but I would not tell him till much later.
He cleaned me up and helped me dress, and then we left the room, and went out to the dance floor, him in his jock-strap to the pleasure of the crowds around us. But as we danced, the image of Ethan popped into my mind. I wondered what he had done, gone home or was still out on the streets. I don't know why I thought of him, I was usually immune to such emotions, but I guess I was just getting older and mellowing. In any case, I called the dance session off short that night, telling Roddy that we would go to my place just a bit sooner than expected and to get dressed for the trip. He certainly seemed to enjoy that decision and complied quickly. We went once more back up to say goodnight to Xavier, and then headed for the door. I noticed the time was now about two hours after I had entered, my how time passes quickly at the clubs.
Xavier had a marvelous ventilation system at the club, but it was still good to get outside to fresh air. The rain had stopped and the skies were refreshed and so was the air. I was happy, that is until I saw Ethan across the street sitting up against a building, looking cold and miserable. I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath. Roddy looked at me and I at him, "See that boy over there?" Roddy nodded, "Yes sir, Mr.Sears."
"We're going to cross the street right by him. If he approaches me, I want you to ask him, politely, to go away. He tried to solicit me earlier. I don't want any physicality, understand?" Roddy's face grew serious, "Yes Mr. Sears, perfectly." Roddy and I crossed the street and Ethan stood up. I walked faster and passed him. Then I heard the voices and stopped. Roddy told him that I was not interested in him. He persisted. I turned, "Go home Ethan!"
"I did, I tried, my parents changed all the passcodes on the house door. Don't you understand? They locked me out. I can't go home and you're the only person I know down here!" Oh god, I rolled my eyes, "Then go to The Mission. They will start legal proceedings in the morning, your parents cannot do that."
"They don't want me, they hate me! I won't go to The Mission!" Unfortunately, Roddy all too well understood Ethan's position and looked at me, empathizing with Ethan. I sighed, I had lost the battle, kudos to the kid I suppose, "One night only, do you understand me?" Even Roddy looked happy with my decision. I was not, but what could I do? I was a cold and heartless man, but not that cold and heartless.
I made Ethan ride in the back seat of my sedan, to let him know what his place was, way behind Roderick and very impermanent. The ride was short. My apartment was close by and I drove my car into the underground parking garage and the boys followed me to the private elevator and up to the 50th floor on the southwest corner where my apartment and studio was.
I didn't care that it was a mess. It would have been Roddy's job to clean and organize it in the morning anyway, that is after I told him his contract was secure. Nothing like a little contract at Porn Magazine with Thurman Sears to motivate a lot of that kind of practical gratitude, hey?
I wasn't sure what to do with Ethan at first, until we reached the apartment. Then his physical condition, wet and shabby clothing made it quite clear, "Roddy? Please attend to him. Give him a hot shower, clean him up and feed him. I'll be in my studio. And no hanky-panky, unless you don't want that contract, understand?" I said, blurting it out at the last second. "You mean I have a contract with you, Mr. Sears?" Roddy's eyes gleamed as Ethan looked on. "Unless you're deaf, yes, now get to work!"
"Yes sir Mr.Sears, right away Mr.Sears!" Roddy looked ecstatic. Male models. Can't live with them, can't live without them.
No man is completely devoid of at least the possibility of humanity, but there are some that come quite close. To me, humanity is like toilet paper. Everyone has some, some of us have a lot more than others. Some of us have more than we're willing to admit, that would be me I suppose. You don't talk about it, especially how much you have or don't have. It actually is quite necessary in order to survive and without it, things get messy in a very unpleasant way. I didn't like people to know how much toilet paper I really did have stored in my closet, much like my humanity. My industry did not care about that sort of thing, not really.
To be honest, I was much more interested in what was happening with Ethan and Roddy, than anything I had in my studio. That was just a ruse. Once again, I counted this all as a process of aging, maybe I was getting soft. But I was patient and let Roddy do his job as I instructed him. That would tell me something about Roddy, although I really didn't know how much. He was, like me, motivated by money, aren't we all.
I then casually wandered out when I thought the time was right and I saw Ethan sitting in my kitchen, eating a fairly large and generous sandwich with a large glass of milk. He was eating it ravenously and carefully, leaving no crumbs, his eyes not wandering aimlessly about. For some reason, that convinced me that his parents had done what he said, and locked this young man out of his home. Roddy had found him a very large T-shirt of mine to wear and I must admit, with him all clean and fixed up, he was still the stunning boy I recalled much earlier in the evening.
Roddy came over to me as Ethan ate, "Well, what now Mr.Sears?" I thought a moment, "Make him a place to sleep on the couch and then you get into my bedroom, I'll be waiting for you." Roddy nodded, "Yes sir Mr.Sears," but as we stepped away from each other, Roddy turned, "Mr.Sears?" "Yes Roddy?" I replied, "Um … " and then he got this look on his face. I rolled my eyes, "Yes, yes, yes … fine, you're welcome," and turned just as Roddy smiled his reply back to me.
* * * * * * * * * *
I'll have to say, Roderick was a wild man that night in bed. I had fucked him three times before and something was missing those other times in comparison. Was it the contract? I doubted it. Usually, after a contract was achieved, most models in my stable lost that extra effort and verve or forgot how to hide their nonchalance. Why do you think I dribbled the process out so long? I had a notion rather that my handling of Ethan's dilemma pleased Roddy, him being so close to Ethan in age. It was confirmed to me, after the second butt-fucking within an hour, Roddy was laying on top of me, kind of cross-wise, both of us spent, "I wonder how Ethan is doing out there, shall I check?"
"And who made you into this … this big brother so suddenly?" I lightly chided him. "Nobody, Mr.Sears. I won't check if you don't want me too." Oh good Lord, "Go and check on him," I said trying not to sound very interested. Roddy jumped up and practically ran out of the bedroom. I shook my head. I suppose I was obligated to feel pleased that Roddy was doing my "caring" for me. So maybe I was, just a little. Almost as quickly as he had left, Roddy reappeared at the doorway, "Please come quick Mr.Sears, he's sick or something!"
I bolted up from bed. Great, just great. We found Ethan in the bathroom throwing up most of his meal. I thought he had simply wolfed it down too fast, but I found it suspicious nonetheless. He finally stopped the awful process and admitted immediately that it was the first food he had eaten in four days. "Four days Ethan?! But I thought your parents just kicked you out tonight?" I barked at him, after he was OK and we were all sitting down in my front room. "I … lied about that. It's been six really. I stayed with friends the last five nights, the most I could get out of them, then I came downtown, last night … but I hadn't eaten much until now, I was too depressed."
This was not good, not good at all. "But I'm OK now sir …. I'll be fine. I won't disturb you anymore and I'll leave in the morning." My toilet paper metaphor came to mind. I looked at Roderick. He knew what I was thinking before I did. Was I now that transparent too? "If you say anything about this to anyone Roderick, I'll take that contract and shred it with my teeth and if you hire an attorney to defend it, I'll see to it that you never work on the planet again, understand me?"
"Yes Mr.Sears! Crystal clear," Roddy said excitedly. "Fine, OK, here's the deal Ethan. Until I can figure out what this whole mess is about and how to fix it, you are confined to this apartment. You will not leave it for any reason. You will have Roderick's cell phone number and call him for any problems. You will make it your immediate purpose to keep this place clean and orderly while you are here and god help you if you do anything that displeases me. Roderick will fill you in on those details, have I made myself clear?"
Ethan's face lit up into a smile that made me cringe, it was far too happy for my purposes, "Yes sir Mr.Sears!!" I looked at Roderick. He was trying, mostly successfully, to not show his delight. I looked at Roddy next, "And as for you? If you conspire or collude with him in any way, I will make your backside a perfect picture of misery and you know I can." Roddy quickly nodded, "Yes Mr. Sears, I do know that and you'll not find me in harm's way."
"See to it then," and then I sighed. What had I just done? This could not come to any good, only in the movies and even I knew that life was not a movie, even in my business. I started to walk back to my bedroom alone and then stopped. I was not about to sleep alone. That was part of Roddy's job. I turned. There were now two "Roddys" standing next to each other or may as well have been. I had been had, that quickly too! The real Roddy just looked at me with his admittedly handsome brown eyes. Ethan's were very blue, my favorite eye color. This was getting out of control and I was in my apartment, my world completely. "OK, I give up. Both of you, inside now!"
And I at least got some pleasure out of swatting at one pair of buttocks as two pair raced passed me. I watched them jump onto my outrageously large, custom-made double-king mattress and then Roddy whispered something conspiratorially into Ethan's ear, right in front of me as well and both boys grinned widely. "What is this already? Roderick?" I said with diminishing displeasure. "Nothing sir! I was just telling Ethan that you love three-ways, that's all." I rolled my eyes around, "This is not about that Roderick!"
"Of course not sir!" He said with a maddening smile. I sighed again, made sure my security systems were all intact and then walked back into the bedroom. I was greeted by two boys laying on their sides facing each other and just off the center of the bed. They looked expectantly, as if waiting for me to anoint the middle. They were buck naked. I had to admit, Ethan Hendrick looked very good with my new model. My mind went into photographer's mode, instantly imagining all sorts of shots and angles with the two of them together and had to turn my photography mind off as I peeled off my robe and indeed slid into the middle of the good looking pair.
I looked at Roddy first and he looked at me and then over at Ethan. Then I looked at Ethan, "How many boys did you say you've been with?" He gave me a classic sheepish smile, "None sir." My eyebrows shot up, "What? You said your parents caught you in bed with another boy?" and he still got the last word, technically that is, "They did. We never had a chance to really do anything sir."
I shook my head and adopted a sarcastic tone, "Well, isn't that a surprise. Not. Come on then, I don't know how I got into this, but I am going to finish it. Both of you, up on your knees over me. Roderick, teach the boy how to kiss properly. I'll watch and let you know when to involve me and wake me up if I go to sleep. It's exhausting to be a social service worker and a boss and run the department at the magazine."
So I watched, but not for long. Ethan was a quick study as they say, a natural. Their kissing above me elicited a kind of picture in my photographer's mind, out on a yacht or on a Greek Island or someplace exotic and old, the two boys locked up in half naked flowing white robes, embracing, kissing and eventually acting in very improper ways. Their penises were both rigidly upright, as was mine. Who was I kidding? I wanted to fuck Ethan and make him mine before morning, after I did other things to him, of course.
I was sitting up in bed, my back to the gigantic bed-board. As the kiss broke, I ordered another and then looked up, "OK, I've seen enough, you Ethan, you said you have spanked yourself with a hairbrush. Are you going to tell me that it was just a wet noodle now?" He giggled a little, "No sir … " He grinned, " … that was real, very real."
"Fine, I'll take your word on that. Roddy, go get me that old brush of mine. It's time to see if Ethan is really as real as he says he is." Roddy's face lit up a bit more than it already was, "Yes sir!" and hopped from the bed. "You, lay across my knees," I instructed Ethan. He did so quickly and his erection rubbed nicely into my thighs. Roddy was back in an instant and handed me the brush and then was on his knees just the other side of Ethan, a big grin of satisfaction on his face. The grin irritated me, "You know what? You both have been a pain in my ass tonight, over my knees next to him, Roddy."
Roddy did not stop grinning as he slipped his naked buttocks across as well, Ethan cuddling up very close to me. Now I had four bare teenage buns to blister. I have to admit, I was happy now and I started to paddle their bottoms, like bongos, one after the other, my penis very happy with this exercise. Neither boy disappointed either. Even Ethan managed to keep his penis very erect and his bottom high and very fetching as I turned his and Roddy's more experienced derriere, very deep shades of red with an appropriate amount of verbal grunts, groans and the occasional offer for me to stop the paddling.
I did not stop until I was satisfied that I was still the boss of this operation and any boy who thought otherwise could leave and find their own way in life. Funny, nobody left and I could have paddled for another hour if I had wished. I did not wish that. I had a model or was it now two models to keep in photographic shape. At the end, both boys were panting but I noticed that they were also holding hands, mostly Roddy keeping Ethan's from flying back to his fiery behind.
"You ,come up here and kiss me, " I said looking at Ethan, "You, suck my dick," I instructed Roddy. Both boys obeyed. I petted and caressed Ethan's red bottom and stroked his penis as we kissed. It was delicious. He was delicious. Roddy was as usual, in good form. Ethan was using his hands in suspiciously experienced ways, caressing my ears and my torso, even my nipples in a way that pleased me. I did the same to him and his reactions seemed overly interested.
Had he lied about being with the boy his parents saw, minimizing it? Were any of his stories real? Maybe he, like my profession and the magazine, was just a paper thin view of something very unreal and staged. Or, just maybe, he was a natural at this. That was, after all, a possibility. If that was the case, I was in luck, but then again, so was he. No matter. I broke the kiss, "You know I want to fuck you Ethan."
"I know. I want you too Mr.Sears, fuck me hard and make me one of your boys, please?" he said with suspicious confidence. "Are you really a virgin?" I asked flatly. "Only if you don't count all those dildos I've used on myself." I made a face and the boys laughed. I hated those synthetic things. I was allergic to them myself. "No, they don't count. You are about to lose your virginity, just count yourself lucky that I don't feel like getting my cameras on you. Virgins are rare these days at a shoot."
"I'll wait if you want me too," He said. I looked at Roddy, "What do you think?" I asked in a serious fashion, "Hmmm … it's not easy to find that kind of model anymore sir. You could have Manny shoot it, although Ethan is not eighteen yet, so the layouts will just be for your private vault." He was right. I appreciated his clear thinking, "I know. Well, too bad. So, we don't have a virgin yet at Porn, I don't care. Ethan, prepare to become one of my boys anyway, sans photos."
"Yes sir Mr.Sears!!" Ethan said with a lot of very sexy enthusiasm. Fucking a virgin is kind of like trying on a great looking pair of new shoes. You get all excited about it and then the new stiff shoes hurt your feet. Virgins cannot really fuck, they can only really just learn how to begin to pretend to fuck, at least in the way I like to fuck a boy, which is two-thirds his work and mine one third or less.
But Roddy helped and Ethan took it like a proper "Sears boy," he at least pretended he liked his first time. I understood. I have a huge dick and his butt was not nearly ready for it. But nobody was hurt and in the end, I made sure everyone got off. Aren't I caring?
Seriously though, I ended up in the middle of two young men, Roddy spooning me at my rear as I spooned Ethan's back. I actually lay there ready for sleep and for the first time, allowed that I had done well that evening, with Ethan I mean. I guessed that my pantry closet must be overflowing with toilet paper, literally and figuratively. And so what if it was? Sue me. No man can live on guile and cash alone, so if you'll excuse me, the night is very old and I find sleep a very pleasant idea. So, now I must … <deep yawn> …
© Copyright PJ Franklin August 8, 2008
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