Date: Thu, 29 Mar 2018 21:06:17 -0400 From: Bill Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR SUMMER Chapter 30 DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR Chapter 30 by Donny Mumford Tuesday morning I wake-up and... huh, Rob's not in bed or the bedroom. I almost said 'our' bedroom. A year from now, or soon thereafter, I expect there will be an 'our' bedroom in ourWestborough townhouse. Jeez... a year from now! That realization would have given me pause a few months ago but during this summer I've come to embrace the idea of marrying Robby and fulfilling most of those plans he outlined for us a few years back when they were his dreams. Now they've become our dreams... dreams of a lifetime together. Corny-sounding to those who never had young-lovers'-dreams, but it's not corny to us. It took some maturing on my part to realize we have an opportunity together that very few people our age ever have, which is to make all our dreams become reality at a relatively young age. Yep, we'll be one of those rare stories you hear about where high school sweethearts are still happily married years later. At some arbitrary advanced age, someone we meet will ask the casual question, 'How'd you two meet anyway?' and Rob will say, 'We were boyfriends in high school twenty-some years ago.' The hypothetical acquaintance will go, 'No shit? That's amazing. I thought you gays were flirty, jumping in and out of beds like fleas, totally unfaithful...' and Rob will say, 'Hey, go fuck yourself, you ignorant...' and then, interrupting my daydreaming Rob comes in the bedroom, saying, "Dylan, we're running late! The bathroom is all yours." Getting out of bed I check my wristwatch and discover it's twenty-minutes earlier than we normally get up, "Oh, so you need to be in the office even earlier than usual, Rob?" He nods, "Yeah, babe. Some of the smaller sub-contractors we use will be emailing two-days' worth of confirmations and billings because of the holiday tomorrow." I shrug picking-up my toiletry kit and, without thinking too much about it, pad down the hall to the hall bathroom. Inside the bathroom it hits me: Hey, I didn't make a drama out of going to the hall bathroom this morning. Hot shit! I'm finally getting more comfortable here! Eliminating that nonsensical fear of being seen by Rob's Mom going to the hall bathroom is another step towards being more comfortable here. Ya know, so what if once-in-a-blue-moon one of his parents sees me in my underwear? They raised two boys in this house and probably saw them in their underwear more than once. Washing my face and hands, then brushing my teeth I'm thinking about Rob and me being married and living in the Westborough townhouse. So, will we still be doing buddy-sex, and if so, for how long after we're married? Indefinitely? Not indefinitely I wouldn't imagine, but we probably will partake of occasional buddy-sex within our close-knit group for a while. Its already begun happening actually as I've noticed this summer my side-sex has been almost eliminated and replaced with sporadic buddy-sex. I wouldn't be surprised if that trend continues in some form or another until it eventually peters-out completely. Peter's-out... that's a weird phrase. Anyway, it seems likely side-sex is on its last legs for me because it's been petering-out the last year-or-so. Yeah but the petering-out in both cases could take some time, so there's that... Fact is I'm feeling fine about things presently as well as what my probable future holds as far as buddy and side-sex go. Full disclosure though, I'd feel even finer if I could experience just one or two more 'really dominant' sub/dom sexual experiences. There's been none of that at all for me, and I mean for quite some time now. I think it'd be a blast experiencing an intense sub/dom sex act like the old days. Unfortunately, as I've concluded a number of times recently, true sub/dom sex is unlikely to happen again for me even though I wish it would. Danny and Hayden are both okay with taking-charge during buddy-sex... more or less. Rob is too but there's no 'for-real' sub/dom sex possibilities among those three. They're all basically too nice to pull it off. A person needs to be a bit of a 'prick' to be a committed dominant sex partner. Egos are involved and usually the 'dom' is ridiculously overconfident with a seriously over-evaluated sense of his own importance in his submissive-sex-partner's life. Huh, and just how long has it been since I've experienced a really dominant side-sex partner? It at least goes way back to last summer in Georgia with Ryan. Yeah but was he a side-sex partner or a buddy-sex partner? There's a difference although not a monumentally major one. With Ryan, it's hard to separate the two because at times he was my buddy while other times he made me feel more like his sex slave, or a much younger sex-apprentice. The 'slave' reference is probably overstating it a bit, ha ha, but he knew how to make me feel pretty fucking submissive; submissive as well as inferior which is part of the experience I suppose. Maybe a quick trip to Marietta would cure my itch for real dominant sex. More likely it'd probably remind me more of why real dominant sex is something I shouldn't experience often. I tend to remember mostly the good parts of past experiences, both the sexual ones as well as non-sexual ones. I think we all subconsciously block-out the bad parts of the past as much as we can. The shower's running hot water now so putting one foot over the edge of the bathtub followed by the other I get under the shower's flow forgetting for now my musings about true sub/dom sex. Instead I concentrate on my sex life so far this summer which consist pretty much exclusively of sex with Robby. That's been pretty fucking good though! He's become an even better 'lover' than he was before this summer, and he was awfully hot to start with. It's just that he gets more aroused about our sex now than ever before and he more frequently initiates it too. His extemporaneous sport-fucking has really been hot lately and our lover's sex is so perfect it makes me want to cry with happiness. Sex with Rob has really been smoking/smoldering hot since he's taken it up a notch or two this summer... and then these sleep-overs have been icing on the fucking cake! Just last night Rob was uber horny and fucked me with confidence in the manner of his choosing, which is the way I want him to do it. Hmmm, wait a second... does the fact he's doing things in my preferred manner mean he's not so much doing it in a manner of his choosing so much as he's doing it in a manner of my choosing? Now why in the hell would I bring that complicated question up? I'm always overanalyzing everything! A better way of looking at it is we've both without consciously being aware of it learned how to provide each other with deep sexual pleasure. Hell, we've had over four years to get it right. And as awesome as its been I can't accurately articulate what it feels like to be in love the way Rob and I are, but then neither have poets been able to throughout the ages. Love is wonderful and weird at the same time but no one can describe falling in love, being in love, or for that matter falling out of love. It just seems to fuckin' happen on its own. Falling out of love with Rob seems inconceivable to me, and after all this time it's probably nearly an impossibility. Two people after a six-month romance that leads to marriage are much more likely to fall out of love than two people who have built-up a love affair over years like Rob's and my love. Who would argue with that? While drying myself I'm grinning and wondering what Rob will fuss over me about this morning. Being with him is fun and it never gets old! With a towel around my waist and carrying my toiletry kit I walk back to the bedroom and find Robby tying his tie. He's in his all-business frame of mind like every work-day. "Hurry-up and get dressed, Dylan. I'll meet you downstairs." He puts his suit jacket on and then, dropping his 'all-business attitude, he gives me a grin and a pinch on my side, saying, "Let's go, bro!" and then a pat on my cheek and a quick kiss before he adds, "Oh, and g'morning to you by the way," and then he's on his way out the bedroom door. I stand here listening to him going downstairs real fast like he always does. Ha ha, thump, thump, thump down the steps. Sucking on my lips I'm remembering his kiss. Sweet! Yeah, but after all my thoughts of the two of us being so much in love, Rob doesn't even stay with me to check-up on how tight my tie-knot is, or if the collar of my suit jacket is up against the back collar of my dress shirt. Okay, being in love doesn't mean forgetting the rest of life's realities! Everybody knows that. Shrugging, I take the towel from around my waist and drop it on the floor and begin getting dressed. The whole time I'm doing that I keep glancing at the towel on the floor until, fuck it! I pick it up, fold it, and then plop it on top of Rob's folded towel. I get dressed in like three-minutes and then take a quick look at myself in the mirror. Wow, this suit Rob gave me is so fucking cool-looking it almost makes it worthwhile wearing a suit. Almost... Hurrying downstairs, carry my clothes and stuff from yesterday, I hear Rob saying, "Why do I need to always remind you to warm the maple syrup, Mom? Gawd!" Stepping into the kitchen that smells like coffee and breakfast, Mrs. Dickers says, "Good morning, good Looking. Hope you like waffles, that's today's breakfast." Who doesn't like waffles? I look at Rob as I say, "G'morning, Mrs. D., you make the best breakfasts ever!" She mumbles, "Tell your boyfriend, he doesn't realize that." Rob ignores her, saying to me, "Do ya wanna take your stuff out to the pickup before sitting down, Dylan?" He said it as a question but I know it wasn't one, so I nod my head and hump everything out to the pickup. Back inside Rob says, "Look at this, babe," and he shows me a computer sheet titled: 'Employee Morale Survey'. He says, "This year I'll be in charge of this fucking thing," and his Mom goes, "Language, Rob!" as he continues, "Bob McCarty, who has been doing these surveys for like five-years now told me morale surveys never turn-out good." I don't know why he's telling me this until he adds, "Heh heh, but I have a secret weapon this year that maybe will get a positive result from a moral survey for once." I go, "What is it?" Mrs. Dickers interrupts by putting plates of waffles and Canadian bacon in front of Rob and the place at the table that's become where I always sit as she's saying, "Put that away, Rob, and eat your breakfast. Go ahead, Dylan, sit down." I sit and see butter melting on a thick waffle that look delicious. The Canadian bacon I happen to know is sliced from the eye of the loin and has almost no fat and it's tender and delicious. As I cut a slice of Canadian bacon we hear the microwave 'beeps' and then Rob's Mom puts a small pitcher of warmed maple syrup on the table. Rob looks at me and then the syrup, muttering, "Go ahead, babe." I pour some on my waffle and watch it mixed-in with the melted butter... and they shine together. I say, "This looks awesome, Mrs. D." and realize I've called her that twice this morning. Danny's been the only guy who refers to her as Mrs. D., and now me too. She doesn't seem to notice though. I go, "The maple syrup is nice and hot." Rob grins at me as he slides an entire slice of Canadian bacon into his mouth, chews it and swallows and then and then mutters, "Yeah, thanks for the hot maple syrup, Emily." She pats Rob's shoulder, mumbling, "Emily, huh?" and kisses the top of his head, adding, "You and your father. Two peas in a pod." Rob's annoyed at that, shrugging his shoulders, muttering, "Mom! Jeezusss!" She pays no attention. Like everything she cooks for breakfast, this morning's breakfast is delicious. I had my doubts about her cooking after eating Ryan's mother's cooking, which was exceptional, but Mrs. D. is catching-up fast! And you know what? I better pay attention to what she prepares because Rob doesn't give his Mom the credit she deserves, cooking-wise, but when I'm cooking for Rob he'll notice the difference. And I'll be doing most of the cooking for us; well make that all of the food preparation, not most of it. Rob may not be big on complimenting his Mom's cooking but he always eats everything on his plate, so in a way that's a compliment. The type of compliment she's apparently content with as she never says a sincere disparaging word about Rob's lack of appreciation. Any criticism she directs at Rob is in a joking format. Yeah, she jokes about it like it's 'cute' of Rob to be gruff. Like he can do no wrong. When we've eaten everything, Rob says, "Thanks, Mom," and he gives her cheek a quick kiss 'goodbye'. I say, "It's was delicious as usual, Mrs. Dickers." She nods her head, saying, "Thank you, Dylan. I'm glad you enjoyed it." Like Robby, I leave my dish, silverware, cup and cloth napkin on the table for his Mom to clean-up. Very unusual for me and it doesn't seem right, but when in Rome, ya know... During the drive to work Rob tells me his secret weapon against another negative morale survey, and it's me! "You see, Dylan, I'll pass-out these morale survey forms after you've completed your reviews with everyone about the new benefits. Hell, everyone thinks you're awesome to begin with so I expect the best moral survey ever!" Damn, why put the results on me? What if they turn out negative again? I'm hoping for a good job with Dickers & Son after college. After thinking about that for a second, I go, "It's not just my reviews, Rob, is it?" He goes, "Nah, but people tend to score company morale, good or bad, on the most recent events at work rather than the whole year, and you're the most recent event for most of them." I go, "Well, from my experiences so far I think you've got some good employees... for the most part." He goes, "Really? I intermingle with so few of them I don't know what they're like. I know there are some assholes though because I've met them." I'm like, "Well yeah, a couple of assholes; that goes without saying but overall they seem like good people. That's what I meant." I get dropped-off at the normal spot and while smoking a cigarette in the back picnic area I think about tonight's date with Marty West, concluding I'm pretty much committed to try side-sex with him. Can't call it buddy-sex because we're not buddies. We're acquaintances, which is more than I can say for Tomas and me. I considerate it side-sex if I've just met, or maybe I've known the guy for some time but not very well. And then, yeah, side-sex sometimes is done with total strangers. Not recently for me obviously, Tomas notwithstanding. He's the exception this summer and that's the biggest difference between this summer and the four summers before this one. Side-sex was a much bigger part of my sexual outlet during past summers. I miss it a little, the variety I mean. What am I to do though? I mean the opportunities just haven't fallen in my lap like they used to. Something to do with getting older I suppose, or maybe it's always been pure happenstance. All morning I finish-up interviewing stragglers from the Accounting Department, ones who were sick or on vacation earlier, as well as supervisors and people with job-titles that equate to supervisors. I think companies tend to give employees better job 'titles' rather than pay increases. Egos, ya know... At lunch, I order the over-priced cheeseburger platter. Rob and I are alone at a table in the cafeteria as he says, "So, just to be sure... are we on the same page tonight, babe? You're still not gonna go with Danny and me to the basketball games, right?" I nod, "Yeah, I'm passing that up. I've been there three times already this summer. You'll get a night off from me." He says, "I don't want a night off from you," which is a nice thing for him to say. After a short discussion, we agree that tonight we're doing separate things and I'll text him tomorrow when I find out about the Fourth of July cook-out. That'll be at my future father-in-law's condo. After lunch, for a change, Rob joins me outside for a smoke. He goes, "Dad doesn't like managers smoking on company property and he includes me in that group, but fuck it, I need a nicotine fix." He says that but he keeps looking around like someone will see him so I don't know how much he's enjoying the cigarette. I'm enjoying watching him smoke it though. His mouth, those rosy red lips of his and... oh, never mind. Then the afternoon is a busy one with me doing interviews for the rest of the management group. I find the management group, as a whole, not to be as casual about the new benefit programs as their employees often are. Of course, there were some managers who simply said, 'I know about the new benefits. Let me sign the card, Dylan, I need to get back to work.' Or words to that effect, but then there are those men and women asking more questions than their employees and I think it's to cover their own asses. That's a full-time job for many people who are in-charge of others; covering their own asses. Ya know, the managers ask me a million questions in case new employees have questions for them, or maybe in case the President and CEO of the company asks them questions about the new benefits. It made for a stressful afternoon at times for me. Surviving it though, I'm waiting for Rob in the back parking lot while feeling strangely nervous about tonight's date with Marty. I have this thing where I'm hoping he turns into a real dominant type, but at the same time I can't picture that because he was Seth's boyfriend and I can't conceive of Seth being so submissive he'd submit to a really dominant sex-partner. So I'm thinking there's no way Marty could be really dominant, while on the other hand, I'm kinda nervously-excited that he might actually be really dominant and what if I find out I don't care for that anymore. That'll blow-up my long-time fantasy about really dominant sex partners being perfect for side-sex. I'll miss out on even fantasying about it in the future, and... Oh, here comes Rob now. Rob seems his normal happy-to-see-me self, saying, "How'd your afternoon play out, boyfriend?" I tell him about the managers and he says, "I haven't heard a single negative comment from any of them, babe. Don't worry about the managers, they're mostly interested in covering their own asses but overall they're not a bad group of men and women." Huh, that's the same thing I thought. Maybe I'm getting the hang of the business world finally. When at my place we do a quick hug at the curb with Rob mumbling, "Text me about the cook-out tomorrow," and then, "Do you need help getting your stuff up to your place?" I shake my head, "Nah, thanks for the ride, babe!" He chuckles, "You're welcome, babe," and he pulls away leaving me with a smile on my lips. Rob is so much more fun now that he's more relaxed and I guess totally himself. Oh fuck! I forgot to ask him about Marty's haircut! I'll try to remember to call him when he gets home. Ya know, the other day I forgot to ask Rob about Chub's haircut too. I wonder if it's a subconscious thing like I subconsciously don't want these guys getting haircuts from anyone but me. Well fuck subconscious; I'll admit openly that I wish it was me doing their haircuts. I guess I'll need to follow-through and have Rob teach me how to do that stupid 'fade' haircut, or whatever it's called now. No, it's not stupid though! I've come around and like the haircut myself. I just don't know how I let that style slip by me. It probably had something to do with the bad taste left in my mouth from Ryan giving me basically 'forced' versions of that haircut the last half of sophomore year and then ten-weeks last summer; like punishment haircuts. Yeah but there's some movement in my shorts just thinking about those haircuts from him. Huh, see, that's the urge to be dominated sexually the way Ryan used to do it. For me even those haircuts were sexual dominance because of my fetish; both the haircut one and the submissiveness to allow Ryan to do it. After the haircut he'd fuck me hard, usually after a hard spanking so it was triple-sexual. He was a hard-nose prick about it too, but it was so submissively sexy-hot! Holy shit! Yes, it'd be like that for an hour or so and then Ryan knew how to get back in his routine of bull-shitting me about how awesome I was. Kept me off balance, ya know? Ryan knows how to do that dominant stuff pretty fucking well because he has more than a little 'prick' in him. He never hesitated being a 'prick' to me when he felt it was necessary. He was that way with a number of the guys we hung-out with that summer, not just me. Weird how he could get away with it. I carry my clothes and things up the steps and into my condo where I drop everything on the sofa and open a bottle of cold Coke Classic. I actually can't tell the difference between Coke Classic and the other thousand-types of Cokes they sell. Yeah whatever. Tonight Chubby and I aren't eating dinner together obviously, and that was confirmed earlier today. I was going to text him that I wouldn't be home for dinner tonight but he beat me to it telling me he'd be working late tonight. He probably needs to work late because tomorrow's a holiday. Chub's always 'up' for overtime pay! Taking my half-bottle of Coke to the balcony I light a cigarette thinking again about tonight. The crazy thing is I'm not horny. Rob's been seeing to that, but damn I'm still interested in variety and that's where the side-sex department comes in. Its sort of the sexual toy department of life, so to speak. Side-sex in my life has, metaphorically speaking, replaced playing with toys when I was a kid. That's how important, or unimportant, it is depending on how I want to look at it. Side-sex is almost always fun and who doesn't like having fun, but at the same time it's not any more meaningful than a favorite toy used to be when I was seven-years-old. To continue the metaphor, some toys are more fun than others and for me sex with a dominant partner is the more fun than regular side-sex. Yeah, dominant side-sex is like my favorite toy, although now I can't recall what my actual favorite toy was way back when I was a kid. Huh! Well I can barely recall what being truly dominated during sex is like either, so it evens out... sort of. Since I'm going on a 'date' tonight I definitely should take a shower and look the part. Marty insists on calling it a 'date' when we go out someplace together. Standing in my steamy bathroom after a quick shower I brush my teeth wondering why the air-conditioning is so weak in bathrooms? Not only mine, but Rob's too. What's that all about? More importantly though I'm wondering what I should wear tonight. Oh fuck it, I'll wear pressed cargo shorts and a pull-over Polo golf shirt. For my feet Tommy Hilfiger's Boat Shoes, that I call Docksiders. My David Yurman necklace goes around my neck but inside the shirt, and then I'll wear my cool leather bracelet plus my little hoop earrings... and that's it for accessories. After spending way more time fixing my hair than I should need to considering its length, I'm as ready to go as I'll ever be for a date with Marty West. Oh wait: he doesn't like cigarettes or even a hint of the smell so I won't smoke the cigarette I was just about to have. In fact, to be safe, I'll chew gum even though I brushed my teeth after my last smoke. Basically, I'm trying to convince myself this date could turn out to be a good time so I need to be in a positive frame mind! I'm basing my hopes this will be a good time on very little however; primarily on his making-out in the car after the basketball date, which isn't much to go on. Hmmm, did Marty tell me Seth dumped him or the other way around? I think Seth dumped Marty. That doesn't sound encouraging, does it? Yeah, but I'd still like to experience a new sex-partner even though it might not set-off any bells and whistles. At least then I'll know, ya know? Ha, Marty is probably having most of these same thoughts about me. There's a knock at the door. Looking at my watch I see it's six-thirty. Marty's right on time and when I open the door he looks, um, okay. He's shiny clean-looking anyway. He shaved, which I was hoping he wouldn't do. I saw him last week in the back parking lot when he was dropping off a form at the office and he had on his lawn-cutting hat. Now without a hat I see his hair has grown-out so that the previous buzz cut is history. Oh fuck, I never called Rob about Marty's haircut. He has his hair on top combed-down and flipped up in front; the haircut he originally asked me to cut for him. He smiles, saying, "You look awesome, Dylan. Um, can we get the awkward first kiss out of the way?" Before I can say anything about that, he plants a sloppy kiss on my mouth, and then says, "Juicy Fruit!" I chuckle because that's the gum I'm chewing. Returning his initial compliment, I go, "You're looking, um, good yourself, Marty." He acts a little awkward, muttering, "Dude, thanks, um..." I motion to the door, saying, "Should we go?" He looks around, saying, "Nice place," and I get the feeling he wants to fuck me before dinner. Since I don't want to do that, I open the door and he goes, "Yeah, I guess we're leaving," and steps outside. Why'd I do that? Why'd I open the door? Maybe because I'm not expecting the sex will get me rocking 'n rolling and I want to keep the faint possibility it might throughout dinner. Maintain the hope, the illusion that our side-sex will be'real' sub/dom sex. Have something to look forward to even though it's probably only a pipe-dream. Pipe-dream, what the fuck does that actually mean? As we go down the steps to the curb I'm just now remembering Marty's big cock. How'd I forget that? Hell, he basically showed it to me in the Men's Room that time. How bad could sex be with that big cock? Damn, I missed another opportunity to find out two-minutes ago! I need to get better at thinking things out in advance! He says, "I borrowed my Mom's car to impress you." I see a late model Cadillac sedan at the curb. I'm not impressed at all, although I say, "Cool ride, Marty." During the drive to the Beef & Ale House he tells me he talked with Seth last night. He was hoping to get some pointers about having sex with me but Seth told him he didn't want to discuss it. I ask, "Are you guys on good terms now, um, after he dumped you." Marty glances at me and then back at the road, saying, "Yes, unless Seth's told you something different. We talk once or twice a week and I think we're friends." That's a plus for Marty as far as I'm concerned. I can't imagine Seth being friends with a complete asshole, but then I already know Marty's not that. Inside the restaurant Marty wants to sit at a table instead of at the bar, which makes sense since this is supposed to be a dinner date. A waitress gets us a couple of icy-mugs of beer plus menus and Marty tells her, "Thanks, we'll order a little later." It's not much of a menu consisting of a few kinds of roast beef sandwiches and ham sandwiches, plus a few side choices. There's a big ham and big roast beef in steaming trays behind the bar that the 'chef' will carved from for each sandwich. Marty's not a conversation-starter, but then neither am I so we both look at the brief menus for a minute and then drink some beer as I think, 'Oh no! Say something, Dylan!' I finally say, "Hey, I made Framingham's summer-league baseball team," and he appears interested in that so we talk about it for a while. He confesses he's never been much of an athlete or an especially big sports fan, so that discussion fades out. Jeez, I don't remember our first date being awkward. In desperation, I ask, "How long did you say you and Seth were going out together?" On that topic, we both have some background, Marty brightens-up, saying, "Not as long as I was hoping for. I really had a crush on Seth, one like I'd never experienced before actually. To answer your question though, it was almost five-months before he told me it was over. He told me that in such a gently manner I wasn't sure it was 'final' until later when I tried remembering everything he said. Ha ha, I guess I didn't want to believe it. True to his word though we've stayed friends." He motions for two more beers and I ask, "What was the, um, reason he wanted to break-up?" Seth shrugs, "Sex. He said I was too aggressive or something. Seth's sorta into vanilla sex. I asked you about that on our first date, remember?" I do recall something like that but I was determined on that occasion not to have sex with Marty so I wasn't paying as much attention to what he was saying as I am now. I go, "Well, different strokes for different folks. That's what they say." He goes, "Who says that?" and I'm like, "I don't fucking know, Marty. Somebody said it!" He asks, "What's your favorite, um, kind of sex, Dylan?" I say, "Lover's sex with Rob. We've been doing it a long time now." He nods, "Yeah, you mentioned that a few-hundred-times on our first date." I go, "No, I didn't!" Getting contentious probably isn't going to help matters much so I drop that topic. Marty keeps saying 'our first date'. I don't know why that's annoying to me. Maybe because I never considered it a 'date' until he called it that, and even then, it wasn't a date to me. It was going to watch basketball with an acquaintance. Our second beers arrive and Marty asks, "Are you getting the roast beef sandwich?" I go, "Yep, more than one probably." He says to the waitress, "Two roast beef sandwiches to start with and an order of those potato wedges too." She smiles as she leaves, taking our empty mugs with her. Marty says, "I like rough sex best, with me always the 'top'. I've never liked being the 'bottom' and only put up with it for a short time. Um, I know that might sound arrogant. It's just that I can't wrap my head around a guy's cock in my ass. Ha ha, ironically my cock in a guy's ass is what I think about way too much," and he laughs. Yeah, there is a certain arrogance in him saying that to me when he totally expects me to take his cock up my ass. Like taking a cock up the ass is way beneath him, but just right for me. Or am I being too sensitive? Since he already mentioned he knows it's arrogant of him I guess there's no need for me to harp on that except I can't help mentioning, "Yeah, it was a bit of an arrogant statement on your part, and maybe slightly obnoxious and off-putting too." He's grinning, "Feel free to say whatever's on your mind, Dylan. No need hold back... jeez!" I go, "Just saying..." and then I ask, "How old were you when you tried being a 'bottom'?" He shrugs, saying, "I forget but it was a long time ago. Ya know though, I've always thought the submissive partner is the most important person for sub/dom sex anyway. He makes it all work, obviously." Not a bad recovery, Marty. I just 'think' that, not say it. And oh yeah, he used the words 'sub/dom' sex. I go, "Yeah well, I prefer 'bottoming' and I like being submissive during sex myself, so..." He goes, "Yes, I figured that out for myself. Ha ha, Seth wasn't even aware of sub/dom sex, and I was doing it with him." I go, "Oh yeah? How so?" He waves a dismissive hand at me, mumbling, "Oh nothing extreme at all. Seth just did what I said, to a point. You know, he's so nice, so accommodating, he'd try the positions I told him to get into and he'd suck my dick when I wanted him to and so forth, rim my ass. Like that." He didn't rim Marty's ass! I can't picture Seth doing that. I would have thought Marty would be the one sucking Seth's dick and rimming his ass. That's my prejudice showing though because, well because I'd do that for Seth in a second but wouldn't expect him to do it. Fact is I didn't do any of that two-years-ago because I thought it'd scare Seth half to death. Our sandwiches arrive and we eat then in silence and then Marty orders two more and says, "How about you, Dylan. Do you have any hang-ups about sucking my dick or rimming my ass?" I give him a startled 'look' and he adds, "Um, that sounds crude maybe, but I don't know how else to ask it. Just trying to establish some ground rules for later." Wow, that's presumptuous of him! Nah, actually it isn't really. I mean, why'd I accept going out with him for a second time if I wasn't expecting sex? He sure made it clear that's what he wanted the first time we went out together, so I'm like, "I consider rimming an advanced submissive act that I don't do with just anyone. I have however, heh heh, always liked sucking a young guy's cock." He grins and says, "This discussion is awkward, isn't it?" I shrug, saying, "You're the one leading the discussion, Marty." He goes, "It's just that asking these questions and sorting things out now, while awkward now, it will eliminate awkwardness later. Ya know what I mean?" I nod, muttering, "I guess," and we eat our second roast beef sandwiches, and damn they're good too! I don't put anything on my roast beef but Marty heaps horseradish on his. Done the second sandwich we get another mug of beer and Marty says, "You mention you're into being 'submissive' a while back." I'm like, "Yes, and I also said rimming is pretty much the ultimate submissive sex act and, while I've done it a number of times, I don't do it with just anybody." He presses on, "I can understand that, but would you do it for me? That's what I'm trying to establish. For later, right?" Oh boy, this is so ballsy, and pushy of him! I mutter, "I can't say, Marty. I'm not a big planner of what's going to happen during sex." He says, "Oh, dude, I really am! It makes everything go so much smoother without misunderstandings or hard feelings. I think sex is the ultimate fun thing in the world to do and I like it to go off without complications, a few surprises too perhaps, but no awkward complications. I'm pretty good at knowing what a guy likes or might like especially when both parties are on the same page and know their place." Well I can either think of that as Marty being confident or him being a total asshole. What the fuck though, I'll take it as him simply having a dominant way of saying things. I'm looking for dominance anyway so why is all this somehow grating on my nerves? If I want him to be dominant it shouldn't be grating, so I mutter, "Yeah, me too." He nods, "Good to hear you agree. Hey, do you want a shot of whiskey?" Surprising myself I go, "Sure, if you do." Damn, he's putting me on the defensive here but if I'm being fair, his logic is pretty good. I've just never had a discussion about what I'm going to do with someone during side-sex, not before this one that is. Marty waves to get the waitress's attention while asking me, "Another sandwich, Dylan?" I go, "Are you having one?" He shakes his head, so I don't get one either. They're big sandwiches. When the waitress brings her smile over to us Marty orders two more beers and two shots of Old Grand Dad, which is a bourbon. Then he goes, "Make that four shots of Old Grand Dad." The waitress smiles, saying, "Why not!" and goes off to get the drinks. Marty smiles at me and then looks me in the eyes, seriously asking, "Would you be okay if I handcuffed you?" Holy shit! I go, "Well fuck, what exactly do you have in mind for tonight, Marty? Why not just tell me what it is instead of hinting at one thing at a time?" He goes, "Please! I don't want to upset you or come off like a sex fiend. Seth wouldn't tell me anything about, um, sex with you and I want to do whatever you like best, honestly! That's all I'm trying to find out. What you like the best so maybe you'll want to do it with me again." He is being very sincere and I actually believe him, although he has a weird way of going about everything. No, not weird, it's just very direct which should be a good thing actually. Ya know, if I'm thinking positively. Our booze arrives: two shots each and a fourth beer for both of us. I pick-up a shot glass and say, "Okay, here's to finding out what each of us likes," and after a quick glance around I lower my voice and add, "Sexually speaking." We both down the shots and my reaction to it isn't as bad as it used to be, but drinking shots isn't pleasant. Also I realize I didn't need to lower my voice because we've both been talking quietly ever since we sat down, and why wouldn't we? Our topic has primarily been about gay sex. No one wants or needs to hear that. Marty's making a 'face' after the shot and then picks up the other one, saying, "Please, let's get this one down too and then I'm done drinking except for this last beer." I nod and we flash the second shot down without a 'toast', both of us guzzles down beer immediately after swallowing the shots. I'm feeling the booze by now so I'm with him; I'm not drinking anymore either. Taking a deep breath, I reach over and snag one off the three potatoes wedges left on the plate, cold by now but I eat it anyway hoping to further get the taste of bourbon out of my mouth. Marty asks, "Are you okay with us furthering our discussion about sex tonight?" I nod, "Yeah, sure," and I come right out with, "Um, do you ever do really dominant sex?" He says, "Rarely because most guys don't like it. I wasn't doing hardly any of it with Seth and he still thought I was being 'crude'. That's what he called it... crude." Hmmmm! Finishing his last beer and then motioning for the waitress, Marty asks for the check and then asks me, "So, what exactly do you mean by 'really dominant' sex. I mean, dominant sex is dominant sex. One guy, in this case me, dominates his submissive partner," and he grins, "In this case you, and you simply do what you're told. That's as dominant as I know about." He shakes his head, "No, that part about you doing what you're told; that did sound crude, didn't it? Ha ha, sorry." The waitress is back with the check and Marty gives her a 'card'; debit or credit, I didn't notice. Not that I care. She goes off again as I say, "Thanks for the dinner and drinks, Marty." He smiles, "You're welcome. I, um, really am happy you're here with me. Thank you." A little awkward again, but the waitress is right back and Marty signs, writes a tip in, and we get up together. On the way out Marty has his hand on my shoulder sort of leading me while quietly saying, "I hope that didn't freak you out; me saying you'd need to do what you're told 'cause I didn't mean it like it sounded." Actually I almost wish he did mean it exactly like it sounded. I mutter, "Nah, no problem, Marty. Hey, those sandwiches were good, huh?" He says, "This place is one of my favorites for pub food," and his hand grips the back of my neck now, possessively, as he asks, "Are we gonna do a little sub/dom sex tonight, Dylan?" and with his hold on the back of my neck he gives my head a little shake. Oh man, I get a little buzzing in my shorts as I mutter, "Yeah, I guess we are." Marty's about my height although heavier and stockier. I glance at him with a little smile and he gives me a 'look' that I can't decipher. Damn though, I've been thinking about 'real dominant' sub/dom sex for a week or more so why not go for it. Maybe Marry actually has what it takes. Letting out a long exhale, I say, "The hell with maybe, Marty, let's do it." He gives the back of my neck a harder squeeze and then let's go and drops his whole arm around the back of my neck now, pulling me against his side, mumbling, "Yeah, Dylan, and crude or not you'll need to start doing what you're told, ain't that right?" I assume that's a rhetorical question but he tightens his arm around my neck and pulls my head roughly against the side of his head, repeating, "Right, Dylan?" I gulp muttering, "Right, Marty." He chuckles, and in a friendly way says, "Hell, and I didn't even need to buy you dinner in Boston." He's apparently feeling a cocky now and he is being slightly dominant in the way he holds my head awkwardly over towards his as we walk. Well, maybe I need to be careful what I wish for but it remains to be seen how he carries this off. I'm still not convinced he can, but I'm open-minded about the possibility because I'm already feeling a bit submissive allowing him to make us walk like this. Emphasizing that last thought, Marty hugs me against his side tighter while glancing at my face to make sure I'm not upset about it and I almost stumble. He chuckles and, giving my neck yet another tug, says, "I can't say I'm real surprised you're already embracing a submissive role for me, Dylan. On the surface, you're quick with the smart-ass remarks but underneath you want someone like me to spank that smart-ass shit outta you, right?" Well fuck, that just ruined it for me. He went too far and I go, "No, and please get your arm off my fucking neck." He keeps it there kinda chuckling and muttering, "This should be fun for both of us. It's rare that two guys match up this well, ya know?" Huh, I don't say anything to that because I don't know how well we match up, but I'm feeling an excited nervousness about his refusal to take his arm away. Without thinking about doing it my arm goes around the back of his waist and he murmurs, "Good boy. That's getting with the program," and then we're at his Mom's Cadillac. Holy shit, I can't believe my arm just went around the back of his waist on its own. Omigod, it makes me think back to Willie's early training me to be openly gay in public. He wanted the world to know I was his submissive boyfriend. I fought it then but I'd love to go through those days again with him. I mean, knowing what I know now! Marty takes his arm off me to unlocks the car doors, saying, "Your house, right Dylan?" I nod realizing I'm a little bit drunk; him too, but neither of us is seriously impaired. That thought I had about my first boyfriend, Willie, has me in a more receptive, more positive frame of mind for accepting some of Marty's over-the-top exclamations. Ignoring the unimportant shit like his comment about spanking, or whatever it was he said, plus the booze has me in a pretty good mood. It's a positive sign Marty ignored my protest and kept his arm where it was. He wasn't intimidated and instead brushed it off in an inoffensive manner. That's perfect actually because he maintained his dominant position without coming back with some stern bullshit that I'd probably feel I had to make an issue out of. His possessive arm around my neck was no big deal in the first place. During the drive to my place, he bumps my thigh with his fist, asking, "Did you ever answer me about the handcuffs?" I go, "No, I guess I didn't, but I've been handcuffed before," and he says, "Good, I'll stop at my house and get some sex toys if you're okay with that." There's a much more confident attitude coming from Marty now as compared to the early part of our so-called date. He's relaxed now seeing I'm okay with him being in-charge. Still, I can hardly believe he's gonna be able to pull this off entirely. I'm trying to remember all my musings earlier about dominant sex, telling myself to try being more willing to put up with crap like I used to; let the dominant partner do the thinking. Be more accepting, and... what else? Yeah, get in the proper frame of mind. Marty's in-charge so just let myself go along with what he likes until I don't like it enough to stop whatever it is we're doing. Okay, fuck though, this just might end up being exciting! I hope to hell he hasn't built-up my hopes for nothing. Hmmm, even if Marty's excellent at being a dominant sex-partner there's the iron-clad safety valve that it can't last a long time. Even if I can't get enough of it, which is extremely doubtful, at the end of the summer we both go our separate ways by necessity, so no long-term commitment. Jesus, do you get ahead of yourself much, Dylan? Ya goof! Relax and see what he's got, but don't let your expectations get too high. Marty goes, "You're awfully quiet, Dylan. Seriously, I don't need to stop at my place if you'd rather I didn't get us into sex-toy play." When's the last time I had a dom using sex toys? Like never the last two-years. I look at him all innocent like, saying, "No, Marty, you're in charge, dude. You decide." He grins, "Are you breaking my balls now?" I shake my head, "Nope, I'd like a really submissive experience tonight. Go for it, Marty." He reaches over to rub my head, "You're awesome! Okay then, we'll work together on this. Damn, this is gonna be good!" I smile to myself, hoping he's right! And now I'm sensing the kind of nervous anticipation I used to get with Ryan. Pulling into the driveway of a regular looking house at the end of a cul-de-sac, Marty goes, "Wait here, I'll only be a minute, Dylan," and he's out the door. I'm looking around at this middle class neighborhood seeing four teenage boys playing basketball in the driveway two houses away. The basketball backboard is nailed to the front of their garage. Across the street some adults are drinking cocktails with a charcoal grill smoking away. I hear an f-bomb from the four kids but nothing from the adults. Pretty nice neighborhood. Marty's back in like two-minutes. He tosses a canvas satchel in the back seat, saying, "They're my sex toys, such as they are. We can use them or not, depending mostly on you." I brazenly say, "Depending on you! You decide if we use them or not." Backing out of his driveway, he says, "You're leaving it up to me, huh?" I nod, "Yeah, tonight you're the guy in-charge unless you get crazy and I need to hit you over the head with something." He chuckles and says, "Would you please simply tell me to stop before hitting me over the head?" I go, "Probably not," and he goes, "Ya know, most submissive sex partners don't seem to understand that they're actually in charge and only pretending the dom is. You get that, right?" I go, "I've heard it described before but I can't say I actually get it, no." He chuckles again, mumbling, "Yep, you're breaking my balls like I thought earlier. That's okay though." Unfortunately, I've lost any of the submissive sense I felt during our walk from the restaurant to the car. It's because Marty's dropped his dominant attitude and is now trying to please me. That's not how you do it, Marty! So I have my doubts again that he can pull this off. At my house, I have Marty park behind the condo. Going in through the basement with Marty carrying his satchel of sex toys, he says, "Hey, down here is better than your bedroom, for starters anyway. Don't ya think?" I go, "Why's that?" He shrugs, "We'll be in your bedroom later, but for now the bedroom is a room you're super comfortable in. Down here I feel more on equal ground with you; more a neutral playing field." He puts the satchel down assuming that's settled, and says, "Okay, how about if you strip now. I need you naked. I'll keep my clothes on to emphasize your submissive role." Yeah, don't they all want me naked while they stay dressed? Actually, an encouraging start by Marty-boy. As I pull the Polo shirt over my head, I'm like, "You shouldn't need to explain why you want me to do stuff, Marty." He shrugs, "Alright then, I won't. You're verifying that you're going to do what the fuck you're told. Am I right?" I nod, "Pretty much as long as you don't try castrating me or something." He goes, "Seriously, Dylan, nothing I've ever done with anyone would cause permanent harm," and he laughs, adding, "I mean, any harm." As I undress I'm looking at Marty and unfortunately not getting turned-on. Damn, and he qualifies for at least average in the looks and body department. He's wearing a short-sleeve button-up-the-front shirt and baggy shorts with sneakers and sweat socks. Guess I was overdressed for our date. As I'm pulling off my boxer shorts Marty's taking handcuffs from his canvas satchel, a satchel that looks about fifty-years old. He turns around and goes, "Holy shit! You shave your pubic hairs. That's so cool!" I've decided not to talk unless I need to answer him. That's because I'm still hoping there's a possibility Marty actually knows what he's doing, although he's being too damn polite about everything. Reinforcing my last thought, he says, "Please put your arms behind you," instead of simply, 'Get your arms behind you, boy!' Ha ha, a small thing maybe, but... Clasping my hands behind me Marty closes the handcuffs around my wrist, asking, "That's not too tight, is it?" I shake my head as he pulls his baggy shorts down reveling no underwear and that big dick of his. Yeah, for sure I remember that big-boy from the quick glance I had of it in the Men's Room at work. He says, "This," and he points to his eight-inches of floppy cock, "Gets bigger when it gets hard. Your pretty eyes are telling me you want to suck it but I won't allow you to just yet. You need to earn that right, so maybe that'll be for later... if you're good. For now, if you'd be so kind as to get on your knees I'll let you lick my big hairy nuts. Do that really well and I might be more inclined towards letting you taste my cock." Hairy' balls indeed! In fact, he has the biggest patch of pubic hairs I can ever recall seeing on anyone. I don't know why I haven't noticed this earlier but his legs are very hairy too and he has big feet. Guess I'm just now noticing in-depth details about Marty for the first time. If he were a slim cute guy I'd have already noticed everything about him. Getting awkwardly onto my knees, not as easy as it sounds with my hands handcuffed behind me, I glance up at him but he just gives me a 'look'. Oh, he won't step over to me huh? Fine, I walk on my knees right up to where he's standing on the tile floor section of the basement in front of the washer/dryer. It's where I do haircuts down here. Marty puts a hand lightly on my head, saying, "I want to mention that when I fuck you I'll use a condom each time. Not because I think you have a communicable disease or anything like that. I just think condoms are less messy and I like the feel of them on my cock. For now though you need to start licking every inch of my nuts." Not really feeling 'it' yet, I lean in and do a big lick on his hairy scrotum feeling his large, heavy nuts move slightly inside their sack. His scent is very clean-smelling. Bath gel mostly, or bath soap. His hand on the back of my head keeps my face about an inch from his crotch so my nose is in his thick pubic hairs. I like male sex organs so this is not a problem and after an initial hesitation due to a general lack of interest in Marty I get over that hurtle and begin licking his balls in earnest. My eyes are closed because this close my vision is blurred. He has a lot of pubic hair extending from all around his crotch continuing up his stomach under his shirt. I hear a stifled grunt as Marty shuffles his feet a little while pulling my face even closer to his body and then he adjusts his shirttail over my head, saying, "There, you're in a private space to do your love-making to my big balls." That should have annoyed me or got my brain thinking 'submissive thoughts' but mostly I'm still in a frame of mind where I want this to be a hot submissive experience, but so far I'm only neutrally going along with it. I want this to work though so I pick-up the pace of my licking. His large heavy cock is sliding across my face as I move my head to better lick all around his scrotum getting his nuts dripping with spit and all the thick pubic hairs plastered against his crotch. Inside this cocoon I begin licking at the inside of his thighs where his fat nuts are so big they must slide against the inside of his thighs when he walks. The inside of his thighs are also very pubic-hair-intensive areas. I'm feeling a sort of trance now with my nose against his saliva-wet skin and my face pretty much covered in my own spit from rubbing against his balls and belly moving from one side to the other with his heavy cock, now stiffening-up, still dragging across my face getting wet with saliva too. In my darken space I lose track of time and only barely notice Marty's feet shuffling constantly now while he's breathing noisily with occasional gasps of encouragement, "That's my boy! Get under those nuts. Good job, boy!" His big cock continually flops around on my face as I am definitely sensing a nice submissive trance and now almost breaking my neck bending it backwards to lick past his scrotum onto his perineum; which is the short body part between his scrotum and rectum. It can be very sensitive and is a pleasure zone on men if you know what you're doing. So okay, I'm in a trance and enjoying doing this but without thinking anything about who I'm doing it with, so that's not ideal. By now it's barely registering whose nuts I'm licking but my cock doesn't care; it's so hard it's almost sticking straight out from my groin. I lap and suck on his perineum and scrotum, almost reaching his asshole. Everything down here smells clean and manly, lots of manly pubic-like-hairs under his legs and they too are pretty much sticking to his body in my spit. I'm content to do this for quite a while but Marty has had all he can take for the moment apparently as he steps back away from me, his shirts pulling over my head to flop against his saliva-wet crotch as he groans, bends-over, and mutters, "Give me a second, oooh, fuck..." Sitting back on my ankles with spit drooling down my chin, my eyes half closed, I take a couple of quiet deep breaths feeling a submissive sense right on the brink of being something special. Not quite though as Marty gasps, "Never in my life... holy shit, that was... omigod awesome!" Glancing over past him I see the washer and dryer thinking, 'I could be in almost any basement," even though I know in the back of my head it's my basement. I can't push the trance further, not with Marty's gasping compliments. The trance fades as reality comes storming back into the picture. Whatever, I want to stroke my stone boner but when I pull on my arms; oh yeah, the handcuffs. Marty's saying stuff but it's not registering as I realize I've mostly conned myself into this trance. Except for the handcuffs, Marty hasn't done anything noticeably dominant, and even with the handcuffs he was concerned if they were too tight. No, it's my over-the-top licking of his scrotum and nuts that created that temporary submissive trance... self-induced mostly. Paying attention to what Marty's saying now, I hear, "...so, if you don't mind, we'll do that in a minute. I need to catch my breath first though." What's he talking about? He takes another deep breath and says, "Holy shit, do you regularly get guys blowing their loads just from you licking their balls?" Frowning at him I almost chuckle, he looks so, um, excited. He goes, "I've never experienced anything like that before. It was awesome, Dylan." There's my name and the little remnants remaining of my trance drifts away. He's helping me up on my feet, saying, "Let's go over to the sofa. I'll lean over the arm to give you full access to my ass. I've only been rimmed once before and, damn, this'll be awesome." Huh, when did I say anything about rimming? He stops and says, "Open your mouth," and I do it without thinking. He looks in my mouth closely and says, "Yeah, I'm not surprised. Heh heh, I'm a hairy fucker. Let me get those pubic hairs out of your mouth. They must be driving you crazy." I didn't notice. He looks around and sees my shorts on the floor with a corner of my handkerchief sticking out of the back pocket. Grabbing that he uses the handkerchief in his fingers to pull out the hairs, mumbling, "They're slippery with spit." With a pat on my head, he goes, "I got 'em all. C'mon with me." Thinking I should be sensing something more than I am, I follow him as he shuffles over to the basement sofa, his shorts still around his knees. We had a chaise lounge down here for years until the Christmas holidays this past year when Mom bought a new sofa for upstairs. The delivery men carried the old sofa down here and took the worm, old chaise lounge with them. I miss that damn thing. Chubby and I cuddled on that chaise lounge a thousand times watching TV together when we were kids. Marty leans over the upholstered-arm of the sofa while pulling his shirttails up his back exposing his hairy ass, saying, "I might need to hop up if I get close to blowing my load. I don't want to cum on this sofa, so be prepared for me jumping back." Well that isn't very dominant, Marty! But I mutter, "Huh?" He's looking so anxious though. He's expecting me to rim him is due mostly to my encouraging him after the Ale house to be in-charge, so what the fuck, I lean forward and lick his hairy butt cheek, telling myself, ' if I'm gonna experience a real deep sub/dom experience it'll need to be mostly my own doings, which isn't 'real' at all actually.' Marty looks back, "Go ahead, boy." That was said without conviction...weak! This is probably my last shot at a real sub/dom sex act even if I'll need to provide most of the juice myself so I persevere. Normally I'd spread his butt cheeks but with my hands not available, what are ya gonna do? I get on my knees behind him and lap up between his nicely firm butt cheeks, albeit very hairy ones. The sides of my tongue sliding along the inside of both butt cheeks as I pass up and over his asshole that quivers under my tongue. It's not a long trip going over his perineum, asshole, and then to the top of his ass crack. When I do it again his whole body shakes. Doing it a third time with my nose leading the way up his ass crack I get my sense of smell joining my sense of taste and both senses register... clean; it tastes and smells clean down here. Marty's a clean guy. After a half-dozen laps over his asshole I leave my tongue right on top of it sucking and licking his hole and I finally feel myself falling back into a pleasant submissive trance again. My eyes close and I'm feeling sexy all over, my cock again gets as hard as earlier but when I get the tip of my tongue in his rectum Marty jumps up grabbing his cock, his ass gets pushed against my face as he staggers-up and steps away gasping and holding his boner tightly in his fist, walking around stiff-legged, muttering to himself, "Don't cum, don't fucking cum..." There goes my tentative submissive trance as I watch him like I'm watching a foreign film looking for the sub-titles. What the fuck? If my hands were free though I'm pretty sure I'd stroke myself off. Self-inflicted or not, extended oral sex on a guy gets all my instincts for orgasm boiling, especially seeing how aroused it got my sex partner here. Jesus! Again I think: if Marty were a slim cute guy, seeing him aroused like this would probably cause a spontaneous climax and I wouldn't even need to stroke myself off. He's not though... Marty's standing up straight, grinning and shaking his head, pointing at me, "You're very accomplished at that, aren't you, Dylan? Did someone teach you how to do all that?" I shake my head, my weak trance only a weak memory again as I mumble, "Self taught, Marty. I like doing oral sex." He nods, "I'll say! Um, do you think you're ready for my cock now?" What a question! Well, the eternal optimist, I'm still holding out hope this will work, so I go, "Sure. That's an excellent looking penis ya got there." He smiles, "Thanks," and adds, "On your knees again, please. Over here," as he points to the tile area, saying, "I know I'm gonna cum and I don't want to shoot-off on your carpet." Yeah, that's really dominant of you, Marty! I don't say that though. I carefully get on my knees with my armpits dripping perspiration from being confined against my sides this long. Walking over on my knees until his crotch is almost touching my face, he spreads his legs a little, saying, "I'm going to put the head of my big cock on your tongue, but do not suck it until I say you can." That's more like it Marty! I don't say that either though. Instead I nod my head, imitating a submissiveness I'm not feeling, as he's asking, "Is there a bathroom down here?" I nod my head at the door to the half-bath, muttering, "In there." Marty mumbles, "Good, we might need the tub a little later and we'll have a place to clean-up down here." Tub? There's no tub, and why would we need it if there was one? He pulls his shorts down to his ankles and, holding out his cut-penis that's almost in its flaccid state again, he goes, "Open your mouth and cover your bottom teeth with your tongue." No shit! I do that and he lays the head of his cock in past my teeth, saying, "Close your lips firmly and suck very gently." I do that wondering what the fuck is this, blow-job training? He adjusts his feet and lightly places his hands on either side of my head as I suck on his cock's head a little and, surprisingly, pre-cum stream out on my tongue already. Wait a fucking second! This isn't pre-cum! Marty says, "It's ninety-five percent water and one-hundred-percent sterilized. I'm pissing in your submissive mouth and I want you to swallow it boy," and he lets a much stronger flow of urine flow into my mouth as I'm struggling now but he holds my head tightly, saying very authoritatively, for once, "Just do what you're told, boy!" and an immediate for-real submissiveness drifts over me without me acknowledging that it's real; it's a very dominated sensation. The flow stops, my mouth filled with his urine, as he says again, "Swallow it, boy!" My eyes blink as I look up into his eyes, "Swallow it!" I gulp down a mouthful of piss that has a strong taste of beer. "Good," he goes, "You actually are able to do what you're told." I can see him relax his body as a stronger flow of piss again pours into my mouth with me swallowing as fast as I can but it runs out the sides of my mouth too. Marty's head goes back and I hear him go, "Aaaah," as my body slouches and I'm fully engaged at being submissive to the dominant Marty. He lets go of my head and I move it forward, not backward, to better keep the flow of piss in my mouth instead of running down my chin and onto my chest. His hands are on his hips now, his crotch pushed out as the piss keeps flowing and he mumbles, "Good boy." Finally his piss flow begins lessening until there's just dribbles. "Suck it out, boy," and with my head swimming with obedience I suck on the head until the dribbles stop completely. Marty rubs my head saying, "Look up at me." I dreamily look up still tasting nothing except his beery piss. "You've earned the privilege of sucking my big cock now." I can hardly keep my eyes open, but with his cock still in my mouth my tongue begins moving seemingly on its own until I get really into it and begin sucking his cock's head so hard it draws some shaft inside my mouth. My lips suck as my tongue moves over and around the head that's now very hard and swollen, and big. I'm leaning my head forward until the head of his boner bumps the back of my throat and then it's past my gag reflex area and into my throat. Marty humps his hips and I'm gagging like mad as three-inches of boner goes down my throat but I never stop sucking or licking the underside of the hard shaft as much as my lips and tongue can reach. Sucking and licking it even as he pulls it from my throat and my nostril suck in air. Then down it goes again with Marty moaning and pulling it up and then thrusting it down and the third time he pulls it back I make a squealing sound humping my hips as cum shoots from my stone-hard boner that's sticking straight out from my groin, one long stream of cum shooting out with me now too weak to even lick his cock and then a shuddering follow-up stream of cum tantalizes my cock as I shudder with sexual pleasure. Marty needs to hold my loose head between his hands because my orgasm has left me limp as a dishrag. He's thrusting his cock in my throat as the last drools of my orgasm make my whole body shake and shiver. As I'm limply sagging on my knees my whole body has little sexy sparkling tingling sensations that feel so good and my cock throbs with pleasure as it gets soft. All around my groin there's buzzing although it's fading quickly. I try sighing but can't with his hard-as-steel boner thrusting back and forth on my tongue and in and out of my throat until Marty stops so quickly I look up and see his face all scrunched-up as he gasps, humps his hip sporadically and cums in my mouth while pulling his boner out with his fingers. The next spurt of cum hits my bottom lip as he groans and shakes trying to get his cock back in my wet warm mouth. Another long string of cum hit's my face but he has a hand behind my head and he's able to guide his cock back in my mouth now and I suck on it feeling pretty fucking submissive by now. He finally steps back pulling his cock from my mouth looking at me with a shocked expression like I just shot him in the heart, and he sits slowly down on the floor almost falling completely on his back before steadying himself. He apparently forgot his shorts were down around his ankles. In a daze I'm sitting back again, my handcuffed hand touching my heels. We stare at each other like the basic strangers we are, me still feeling a real submissiveness as I move my tongue tasting piss. His cum either had no taste or the taste wasn't strong enough to override the taste of urine. After some heavy breathing Marty shakes his head and, apparently getting his bearings again, smiles asking, "Was that dominant enough for you, Dylan?" There's my name again. A submissive sense remains but it's evaporating due to Marty's smiling conversational manner. I cough and mumble, "What?" He laughs as he struggles to his feet, saying, "That was the hardest I've ever climaxed in my life." He's reaching down to help me up, adding, "You're a spectacular submissive sex partner, Dylan. I feel like a complete novice at this compared to you. That was awesomely unbelievable!" He pulls his pants up with his sloppy cock bouncing twice before returning to its hiding place. While he's wiping his cum off my face using the handkerchief he used earlier I'm doing some, hopefully, inconspicuous deep breathing as well, and even though I'm still handcuffed my consciousness is returning to something closer to reality. Okay, that was a couple-of-minutes of a real submissive sense and Marty was a for-real dominant sex partner pissing down my throat and then deep throating me. I admit I'm not sure what to think about the urination stuff. It was shocking for sure and I never expected Marty would have the balls to do that. Hell, I never gave urination a thought, period. He never mentioned it. I don't know whether to admire that move or despise it. I'm conflicted I guess you could say. He got me there for sure. Marty's got the key to the handcuffs, unlocking my wrists and then he takes hold of my bicep pulling me towards the half-bath, asking, "Is it too much to asks you not to wash anymore of my cum and piss off your face just yet?" He looks closer and chuckles, "Not all of it though. That was something, wasn't it?" " Still off my game a little because of his unexpected piss and cum action, I'm like, "What?" Guess I'm not completely out of my trance yet. He almost pushes me into the half-bath, and says, "Your face... ha ha. Can we leave the rest of my cum and piss there until it dries?" I'm losing lots of submissiveness by the second now, muttering, "You can't be serious," and he nods, "Yeah, I am. I'll be fucking you in like a half-hour and it's be like the biggest turn-on for me if you'd leave my cum and piss to dry on your face until after I fuck you." As he said that he's getting his dick out again and he starts taking a piss; this time in the toilet. I'm frowning at that wondering if this guy is a camel the way he stores all that liquid in his bladder. I mean, he pissed a gallon of urine down my throat and then I realize I've got to piss too, and I mean like a fucking race horse. Standing next to Marty my piss-steam is strong, pouring both mine and Marty's piss out in a fat stream. Holy shit! Yeah, but okay I'm ready to admit that was a submissive experience. It didn't last more than a couple of minutes but it was definitely a trance I was in. Kudos to Marty. He asks, "What are you thinking? Is it that you're pissing-out both our urine?" I nod and he goes, "Can you believe I needed to take another piss? Ha ha, I never took a leak after our drinks at the Ale House." It's another good strong stream of piss from his big dick, not as strong as mine though and I'm glad he's doing it in the toilet. Without thinking I swish my tongue in my mouth still tasting his first piss tonight. Seeing me watch him piss, he somehow stops, like he did when pissing in my mouth. How's he do that? My piss is still streaming out. Stopping a piss in mid-stream ain't easy. He asks, all joking aside; he's serious; "When you're done pissing do you want me to fill you up again? Do you wanna another taste, Dylan? Or," and he looks around, still holding in his piss-stream, saying, "Oh, there's no shower or bathtub in here, huh? I could do a golden shower for you if there was at least a shower-stall, although a tub is ideal." I can feel the look of incredulousness forming on my face as I mutter, "Fuck no," adding, "Are you out of your fucking mind?" He shrugs, still looking serious, saying, "I'm sorry. I thought... well, I thought wrong obviously, but give it some thought. We can do that almost any place and if you don't mind me saying, you liked me pissing in your mouth. You did," and he begins pissing in the toilet again. No I didn't, did I? He's finishing his latest piss watching me as I'm running water in the sink soaping my face and then scrubbing it with my hands. That's my answer to his 'leave the piss and cum drying on my face' question. Rinsing off, I do it all over again purposely letting some soap get in my mouth to wash out the taste of his piss from earlier. Big mistake though as I gag and then rinse my mouth out with water about ten times. Marty's not saying anything watching me go a little nuts at the sink. Finally satisfied I've washed enough I'm leaning-over, my hands on the rim of the sink just staring at the bottom of the sink, water dripping off my face as I try to remember if the submissiveness I felt during the urine/oral sex and blow-job was worth it. It was a different submissive sense than I've ever had before. Mostly unexpected shock maybe. Marty meekly says, "Here's a hand towel, Dylan." I'm like, "Wha... oh, yeah," taking the hand towel I dry my face and hands letting the towel drop in the sink and then look at Marty and, in a calm voice, ask, "Why did you think it would be okay to piss in my mouth?" He shrugs, "I don't know. I've done it before and my buddy liked it. I thought a submissive guy like yourself might like it too, and I believe you did. Right now you don't want to admit to yourself you liked it, I understand that. I think you'll be asking me to do it again fairly soon though. That's my 'take' on your reaction anyway. I mean, you didn't fight it after being surprised. Yeah you struggled a little bit at first but I held your head in place until you could get used to the idea and then let go of your head and you didn't pull your head away. You pushed it forward to take more of my piss-hose in your mouth. What am I supposed to think?" I've got no response to that because he's right about my reaction but I need to think about it. It was such a shock I didn't know what the hell to do. He waits a second and then adds, "Are you saying now that you didn't like it?" Not hearing an objection from me he pats my shoulder, saying, "C'mon, admit you haven't felt that submissive in a while; maybe ever... heh heh. Am I right?" I mutter, "I don't know. Fuck though, pissing down my throat... Jesus!" He says, "Urine is sterile! Can't hurt you, and like I said to you before, it's ninety-five percent water." With an arm across my shoulders, he goes, "Let's go back in the basement. I've got some sex-toys to show you now. I'm kinda thinking maybe you wanna reconsider joining me in some urine play again later. I can chug a couple of beers.... Anyway, if you want to just ask me, okay?" Fuck, I'm not doing that! I want him to stay confident though so I don't tell him to shove it. I seriously doubt we'll see any additional urine in play involving me, but I was looking for something new and that pissing down my throat was certainly new. I took some of Rob's pee in my mouth a long time ago and thought it was kinda sexy, but that was with my lover! He didn't want to continue though so that was the last time for that until now. If Marty was a young slim cute guy though, would I try it again? I don't know, I really don't. Then I think of that twerp, J.J. Benintendi, who is not cute and slim either so I'm not interested but I say, "Hey Marty, I don't think I'm the guy you want for urine stuff, butI know someone who claims he's into urination and if you want I'll ask him if I can give you his cellphone number." Marty's excited, "Really? Yeah, please do that. I'd appreciate it! It's hard to find guys into that sort of thing." No shit, and no pun intended. He adds, "I'd rather hold out hope you'll want to though, and I think you will," and he pinches my side looking playful. Dream on. Marty sees I'm not responding to that so he goes, "Let's get you handcuffed again, okay?" I shrug thinking this has partially been successful already. I mean being honest about it. Sure, I needed to swallow his pee in order to sense that deep submission and that's too big a price to pay but if I keep an open mind maybe Marty has something else up his sleeve that will finally approach a really sub/dom affair like I experienced during my days of old. Smacking my bare ass, SMACK!" Marty mutters, "C'mon over to the sofa where my satchel is." I'm still naked of course and he's still got his clothes on. A lot of guys would be self-conscious about that but I like being naked and apparently so does Marty; like me being naked I mean. As if reading my mind, he goes, "You've got a super-sexy body, by the way," and he rubs down my back to give my ass another little smack, "Smack," and a squeeze on my left butt cheek. I give him a 'look' and he mutters, "Sorry, but you're so fucking hot-looking and sexy, Dylan. Ya know, it's hard to keep my hands off you, but I'm trying, dude." I mutter, "Try harder." Picking the handcuffs up off the sofa where he threw them earlier, he puts them back on me handcuffing my hands behind my back. He chuckles as he's taking a thick dog collar from the satchel. Jesus, its the usual suspect items for anyone with a sex-toy bag. Not that many of us have a sex-toy bag of course. Looking at the dog collar, he goes, "Jeez, look at this! I haven't used this for a while. It's basically a training collar for sub/dom play that the submissive, you in this situation, will wear it to insure you'll give your dom, meaning me, your full attention. Here, I'll put it on you." He holds it up, saying, "Lift your head back because it's high in the front." As he buckles it behind my neck I need to keep my chin way up because the front piece of hard, old leather cuts into the underside of my chin if I don't. I ask, "How old is this thing?" He goes, "I don't know. I bought everything second-hand off a guy when I was in high school. That was almost six-years ago now." I ask, "Did the guy you bought it off of use this shit on you?" He makes a 'face' mumbling, "Yeah, this collar especially, but then all the stuff was used on me until I had my fill of being the, um, submissive dog... ha ha. The two guys I was screwing around with were both a few years older than me. They were life guards at the pool my family belonged to. Pool and tennis club actually. Me being the submissive 'bottom' was something that got old quick for me though and I decided I'm the fucking dominant guy for all future sex, and I have been too." Whatever, I'm mostly realizing this collar is no laughing matter. All I can do is grunt, and then complain, "This is wicked uncomfortable, Marty." He smacks my ass hard, "You'll get used to it," and then he goes back to reminiscing, murmuring, "Yeah, that was a summer I'll never forget! I still remember those hot lifeguards too! Huh, it was actually awesome at first, but I outgrew that shit fast." That sinks in as I grunt again, rubbing my stinging ass with the back of my handcuffed hands, mumbling, "And you're saying I haven't outgrown it." He sees me rubbing my ass and lifts my hands away, saying, "Lean forward!" When I do he spanks my ass a few more times with loud, 'SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!" sounds ringing out in the basement. Dropping my arms, he says, "Don't rub your ass or I'll spank you again." No fooling around now, huh? I feel a definite submissive sense drift over me after that spanking as I murmur, "Okay, sorry," and he pats my head and then rubs my hair back flat on my head, saying, "You can straighten up now." Hell, I forgot I was leaning over. I straighten up as he whacks my ass again, "SMACK!" with him muttering, "No touching, okay?" I yelp this time because he hits hard. He's rummaging through the bag, mumbling, "You're getting the picture now, huh? Wearing the collar with your hands handcuffed behind you and getting spanked hard, which I might do at any second," and he lifts my handcuffed hands away from my ass again as I go, "no,, I'm..." but he goes, "SMACK!SMACK!SMACK! with the sounds ringing out and me trying to walk forward but he holds onto my handcuffs so I'm not going anywhere, as he asks, "So you tell me, Dylan, are you feeling submissive yet," and he chuckles dropping my hands and then adjusting the collar a little bit tighter as he mumbles, "Yeah, now you'll really need to keep you chin up even higher." I gulp as he asks, "I asked you a fucking question, boy. Do you feel submissive to me yet?" I mutter, "Yes," and he goes, "That fucking dog collar gets 'em every time. That and some hard whacks on your ass." It's definitely a submissive trance I'm in but not a dreamy, floating one like I've had in the past. And my ass really stings and burns. Marty runs his hand over my head and down across my shoulders, quietly asking, "Do you think you might be okay as my portable toilet if I need to take another piss again?" My face gets red with embarrassment at this situation I let myself get in. Another hard smack on my ass as he asks again, "Do you? " Not wanting any more smacks on my ass, I gasp out, "I guess," and he chuckles, adding, "Don't worry. We already did that so I probably won't need to 'go' again." This dog collar is large and extremely uncomfortable, much like the one Billy made me wear in New York. I more easily fell into submissiveness back then although this collar of Marty's is doing its job on me tonight. Billy claimed it was John who insisted I wear that hard training collar but I saw very little of John. Later I figured out that sweet-boy, Billy, cuter than anything, was having his fun with me and blaming it on big-bad John, who was a bad one alright when I did see him. Huh, I'd love to run into Billy again. That's a crazy thought... Moving my head the little bit to see what Marty's doing now, and I shout, "Ow!" as the collar bites into where my chin meets my neck. Marty mumbles, "Christ, just keep your chin up! How hard is that to remember?" That was dominant of him alright, but this isn't doing it for me somehow. I've already lost that deep submissiveness and I think it's because I'm too uncomfortable with this fucking collar biting into me. With Billy I just took it, but now... I don't know, I'm different. Fuck it, I'll persevere a little longer anyway so that tomorrow I'm not pissed at myself for giving up too soon. Marty lifts a grungy-looking ball-gag from the satchel holding it up high so I can see it. "It's a ball gag," he says and I think, 'No shit' but don't say that out loud because he hits hard when he spanks my ass. He starts to say something but snorts out a laugh instead, and then with a serious expression, he says, "Sorry for laughing but you're gonna need to open your mouth wicked wide to get this in. Let's try it." I try shaking my head 'no' but the collar prevents almost all head movement, so I go, "Nah, please, that looks disgusting. The ball part of the gag is gross. What's that stuff dried on the ball?" He looks at it and frowns before mumbling, "Saliva maybe? And then he chuckles again, adding, "Maybe cum. Hell, I don't know." I can't see it now as he dropped it below my head. I go, "I don't want to put that in my mouth." Marty says sweetly, "Okay, we'll spend the time with me spanking you. Lean over," and I go, "Wait... um, " and he goes, "At least try it, Dylan. C'mon, we haven't really done any sub/dom sex yet." I go, "You pissed in my mouth and spanked the shit out of me." He mutters, "Oral sex and some discipline. That's nothing. That was just to get us started." Shit, well I was thinking I wanted this experience, so I give in, "Yeah, okay, no more spanking... really! I'll put that filthy thing in my mouth, but just to see how it feels," and I open my mouth wide. The ball is still hitting my teeth. "Wider, Dylan!" Jesus, I try opening my mouth wider and hear a subtle cracking sound at the corners of my jaw, but before I can ask what that was Marty's forced the ball in past my teeth. It's big! How the fuck's he gonna get it out is what I initial think, but my biggest concern becomes a feeling of claustrophobia. I don't know why but for some reason it streams over me. Maybe because it's almost impossible to breath around this awful tasting ball and I can't swallow either. My face gets red and I feel panic coming on. Claustrophobia is a terrible feeling! I can't speak with this gross ball pressing my tongue to the bottom of my mouth and its bunching my tongue a little at the back of my throat. Trying to move the ball in my mouth pushes it ever so slightly on the back of my tongue against the gag reflex area in my throat and I gag like mad, thinking I'm going to throw-up. My face gets redder as I'm gagging and bumping against Marty with my shoulders, really panicking now. He holds around my shoulders, calmly saying, "Oh for Christ sakes. I didn't carry on like you're doing and I had that thing in mouth ten fucking times. Okay, don't struggle. Breathe deeply through your nose and relax. You need to calm the fuck down! For Chrissakes, I have you, you'll be fine in a minute or so. Breath through your nose, Dylan. Stop being a pussy about this. It was your idea!!" He puts me on the sofa next to his satchel and then sits next to me wiping the sweat off my forehead. I'm desperately breathing through my nose feeling my nostrils expanding as he soothingly says, "That's it, breath through your nose and calm down. Jeez, I'm here taking care of my submissive boy, aren't I? It'll be fine in a minute, and you'll love how everything feels... you'll see." One of his arms holds me around the shoulders pulling me almost facing him as he wipes more sweat off my forehead, chuckling again. Sweat just breaks out as my heart thuds in my chest and my mind fixates on Marty taking care of me and how much I need him to. He goes, "Sorry for laughing but you're making a much bigger deal out of this than it is," and he snorts out another laugh. "Sorry, Dylan, but you look... well, you'll be fine." Marty's face is close to mine as he quietly adds, "There ya go, that's it, you're doing fine. Keep your head up too. Keep it off your collar." I make a gulping sound and in a sterner voice he adds, "You'll do a helluva lot better if you just do what the fuck I'm telling you. Face it, you don't have any other options. Right? Now keep your fucking chin up. Jesus, this is supposed to go a lot smoother!" I try doing what he says, my eyes wildly looking around trying to think what I can do and realize he's right; my options are limited. With my hands handcuffed behind me there not much I can do. I need to rely on him and as soon as I admit that to myself a drape of submissiveness once again slides over me like warm blanket, calming me and it's so much more pleasant just getting docile. He must see something in my body language and maybe my eyes as he smirks, "Yes, you need to listen to me and do what you're told like a good boy. You know what? You look like a 'boy' too. Damn you are so young-looking... cute as a teenager." I'm just staring up at the ceiling and sort of leaning against Marty. He talks quietly in a soothing voice, "Didn't I tell you it'd be okay if you do what I say?" Not daring to try speaking I'm limp, my frenzy drifted off and everything is okay. Marty keeps lightly rubbing my forehead and hugging my shoulders, murmuring, "Good boy, you're doing better already. It does take some getting used to though, doesn't it?" Thank God Marty knows what he's doing and he was able to calm me down. I've closed my eyes now as he continues rubbing up my forehead and back into my hair until my hair is wet with my sweat and lying back flat on my skull. I'm feeling very calm now as he holds me in an affectionate manner, hugging me against his chest with my torso twisted towards him as we sit side-by-side. It's a tremendous relief to feel calm. If Marty had panicked like I did two-minutes ago it might have been disastrous. He's talking quietly, saying, "My big fear was you'd throw-up, but if you did no worries 'cause I know how to get the ball out quickly. Just lie against me a little longer and get even more relaxed. We'll do some great sub/dom sex like you wanted me to do and we'll both be glad we were able to persevere through your initial over-reaction to the big ball-gag." Steadily breathing through my nose now, Marty's calming influence has my panic just a memory, one that's left me feeling very submissive again which somewhere in my brain I recall is what I was hoping for. That first two-minutes though; I wouldn't want to go through that again. My main thing now is I need to stop thinking about the terrible mildew-taste coming off the ball and the saliva that keeps running down my throat. The big gag-ball is making it difficult to swallow so I'm making gulping sounds every ten seconds. First his piss and now this mildew saliva! Marty quietly says, "Don't gulp, Dylan, that's annoying to me. Just let the spit drool down your throat," and he rubs my throat lightly, murmuring, "Let it run down there on its own." I gulp again and get a, "SMACK!" on the top of my leg as he says, "Stop that!" We sit together like this with not gulping and him lightly rubbing my head and murmuring encouraging words including some compliments that I'm his good boy. Using the word 'boy' is to emphasize I'm inferior and need to listen to him and do what I'm told. All 'doms' use the 'boy' reference. He was saying something about my youthful appearance earlier too which was more reinforcement that I need to pay attention to 'daddy'. With Marty that hasn't had much of an effect on me but with other guys in the past it's worked to an embarrassing degree; embarrassing to me when later I thought about it. I'm limply lying against Marty's chest with him murmuring in my ear for maybe two-or-three-minutes until I'm feeling calmly hypnotized. It's the way I get at times. I'm completely calm breathing through my nose with my eyes closed feeling pleasantly docile and totally dominated for the second time this evening. So that's pretty good. He says, "Open your eyes, Dylan," and when I do he looks me in the eyes, asking, "Are you my good boy now? Don't try to talk though. Blink your eyes twice if you are." I blink twice and he says, "Okay then, I'm gonna let go of you and I want you to get up and lie over the arm of the sofa. The big soft arm I was on when you were sucking on my asshole, and remember to keep both your chin and your pussy up high. Do that now." Man, it's hard to gage what type of submissive trance I'm in because it's kind of a new ebb and flow situation. When Marty says stuff like he just said I think it's registering as quite dominant while earlier some of the things he said irritated me more than anything. So my submissiveness comes and goes, which isn't ideal. In any case I get up, as he's saying, "I'll be twisting a dildo up your pussy to open it up some so when I fuck you my big cock won't be a shock to you. The dildo will give your boy-cunt time to partially adjust. It'll be a quicker transition to pleasure for you with a lot less initial pain, you know, from taking my extra large boner up there. Okay?" Lying over the arm of the sofa I'm still feeling dreamy and weirdly contented although somewhere in my brain I know I'm not completely helpless because I could make such a fuss thrashing around and whatnot, that he'd take out the ball gag and that would be the end of it. Marty's not some crazed sex fiend who is making me his slave. It's nothing like that. He's doing sub/dom sex as he perceives it, encouraged by my discussion at the Al House. His pussy/cunt routine is weak but it's another thing dom's say. It used to bother me but I don't pay any attention to it anymore. One thing I'm pretty sure of is I don't intend doing any of this again with him, but I'd be lying not to admit Marty had been clever sneaking in the pissing in my mouth routine and then the manner in which he got me in this helpless situation... that was pretty clever too. So props to him that he's managed to do his dominant part as well as anyone's done it with sex toys in a couple of years. Thinking about all that while I'm lying on my stomach over the arm of the sofa with my bare ass sticking-up as much as possible, not from him telling me to do that as much as its from habit, almost sticking up without me thinking about it. Marty says, "I always use condoms, like I mentioned before, even with dildos. Eliminates the need to clean them. I have three dildos," and he says, "Look at what I'm holding, boy! Which one do you choose?" He holds then in front of my eyes because I can't move my head. I see a huge curved black dildo, a pink one that's smallish and one that looks to be about the size of my dick. I stare at that one and he goes, "This one?" pointing at the one I meant. I blink my eyes twice. It's all I can do. Unwrapping a condom, Marty says, "You chicken-shit, you!" and he chuckles, adding, "I was hoping you'd want the black one. Do you think it's a racial thing that they sell the biggest dildo as a black one?" Hoping that's a rhetorical question, but I try to turn my head a little towards him in case its not and the dog collar digs into my neck. He's not paying attention to me as he sits on the sofa right in front of my head getting the dildo encased in the condom and then he shows it to me, asking, "You feeling okay?" That's nice of him but it fucks-up the sub/dom atmosphere a little bit. He gets his eyes looking into mind, asking again, "You okay?" I blink twice and he gets up to stand behind me. Pushes my handcuffed-hands to the side he screws the dildo head in past my sphincter. It hurts and I stupidly try groaning which moves the ball against my tongue and the back of my tongue moves against my gag reflex area in my throat again. I begin moving around and struggling feeling the panic coming on me. Leaving the dildo in my ass Marty quickly rubs my shoulders, saying, "Breath through your nose and calm down." And this time he has a very soothing way about him and in a few seconds, I'm back to exaggerating my inhaling and exhaling through my nose as the ball in my mouth settlers down. Marty coos, "Don't try to talk, boy. I told you that before. Do you want another spanking? If not, do what I tell you," and a hard smack on the side of my ass, "SMACK!' which moves the dildo against my prostate and that felt good. I'm calm again but now I can't tell if I'm in a submissive trance or not. I'm in some kind of trance, I know that much. As I thought earlier, this is very different than I've experienced before, submissive trance-wise, but it feels good in my ass with the dildo's head against my prostate, so... whatever. I think the trick for me is to not think about anything except how good that dildo feels. Marty reaches over me giving my head a last sort of rough rub and a push, saying, "Stay still,", like maybe he's getting frustrated I'm having these panic attacks. Then, with no hesitation he twists the dildo further up my ass with my back arching because it hurts spreading the walls of my rectum and rubbing against the stretched lips of my asshole. I make sure not to make any sound that might move the gag-ball though, and the pain quickly fades. He leaves the dildo there as I hear the rustling of clothes and when Marty drops his clothes on the sofa I see he's finally getting undressed. He gets completely naked and sits down on the sofa in front of me to pull off his socks. Straining my eyes downward I see his naked body for the first time. Holy shit, this guy is one hairy dude! Lots of chest and shoulder hair, hair on his stomach that connects with his significant pubic hair. I look at his big flaccid cock and my dick moves against the arm of the sofa. It was great sucking that thing and my eyes glance at his nuts remembering the trance I was in licking those big hairy boys. The hairs have all dried and are crinkly and looking normal again, very full and bushy all around his cock and balls. He gets up as I'm thinking, 'Jeez, I have the urge to suck him off again even if I need to swallow his piss... wait! What am I thinking? Gee, maybe he did do a dominant number on me with all that stuff earlier'. Maybe, but the other thing that I'm noticing is that I feel absolutely no animosity towards him, and in fact I liked the way he was so conscientious about comforting me and all that. Of course I wouldn't have needed comforting if he didn't handcuff me, put this horrible dog collar on me and then this gross ball-gag in my mouth. Oh fuck, thinking about the ball gag gets the panic feeling coming back. I fight it off telling myself what Marty says, 'Be calm and breath through your nose. Calm, be calm, breath through your nose,' and get myself under control. Marty begins pulling and pushing the dildo and, in my mind, I see Danny fucking me. The dildo is the size of Danny's cock but of course it doesn't grow inside me like Danny's does so the similarities end quickly. Not that it matters all that much because Marty is already pulling it out. He drops it in his satchel with the condom still on it. From his heavy breathing, I'm guessing he's very aroused and when he moves next to me my eyes strain to the side and I see his big cock is very hard. He strokes up and down it with his butchered foreskin totally off the head, a cock head that's now very engorged. Marty's totally into himself now looking at my ass. He's staring at it intently as he's ripping open another condom wrapper. I think I'm feeling submissive but still without any of the dreamy qualities I've experienced in the past, so I'm not sure what fucking frame of mind I'm in. I know I'm not sensing any of the sublime awesome floating sensations I've felt in the past when deeply in a submissive trance with my early 'doms'. This is quite different and not what I was looking for actually, but I'm into it too far to back out now. The condom is on that large cock of his and when he steps back I can't see him anymore. I sure feel him though when he does some more whacking on my butt cheeks, "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! and then, after murmuring, "A little tenderizing to get that pussy of yours cooperating," he does two more smacks, "SMACK! SMACK!" and my ass burns and stings making me squirm on the arm of the sofa. He mutters, "Stop that or you'll get a harder spanking." He's trying for stern but it sounded more like he's concerned that he spanked my ass too hard, than stern. I don't think he has enough 'prick' in his make-up to be a hard, dominant type. He substitutes the sex toys for him being a hard-ass. Even so his whacks on my ass left my buttocks stinging like a bee sting but his spanking still lacked the intensity I've felt from others. Marty is very much in-charge at the moment though, so that's something at least. He pushes the fat head of his hard boner in and it hurts because it's fatter than the dildo, but it doesn't hurt a lot. I'm looking forward to being fucked fast and hard but he's pushing his boner in slow with the pain constant as his fat cock spreads the walls of my rectum up in there about seven-inches until the final hump and I make a snorting sound through my nose making sure not to move anything in my mouth. My nostrils expand with each inhale and exhale but most of my concentration shifts to my ass that's quickly feeling sexy and stimulated as nerve endings begin percolating-out some sensational pleasure vibrations. Marty humps against my buttocks as I feel his cock grows thicker and maybe a tad longer. In my head, I'm moaning because now it's a really feeling good and my entire rectum is glowing with pleasure that's increasing quickly. Feels sooooo good already and then he starts thrusting but not so his groin is smacking into my butt cheeks. It's a steady six-inch thrust without the sound of males fucking. I kinda miss that. Instead of the slapping sounds Marty's got a mantra of quiet moans, "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh, yeah,' with each thrust. His hands press on my back while his thickish hips smoothly drive his boner back and forth inside me and I start squirming on the arm of the sofa because this feels really good, like it always does. It's a new boner to me and a new style of thrusting and new moans coming from a new side-sex partner. Its obvious as hell that everything would be better without this horrible ball gag that's not adding to my submissiveness now, instead it's detracting from the sexuality of this anal sex act. I miss hearing my moans of sexual arousal even as I'm enjoying the sensations popping in my ass and especially around the lips of my anus that's stretched almost as much as they're able. I'm thinking moans of sexual pleasure in my head but that's not nearly as good as hearing them. That's something I'm discovering for the first time; my own moans add to the sexuality of getting fucked. His thrusting is getting more pronounced and I'm bouncing on the arm of the sofa without my hands to help control my body's movements. His thrusting has pushed me up against the side of the sofa so tightly my boner is pressed between my belly and the sofa's arm. Marty's thrusting is steady until he gasps and reaches over me to cup my shoulders with both hands and begins pulling me back into this hard, much faster thrusting, and the "Slapslapslap," sounds bursts onto the scene with Marty changing his manta to, "Oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh, ooooh!" and now he's against my ass humping hard and apparently blowing his orgasm into the condom. I picture that in my head and cum spurts up between my belly and the material covering the arm of the sofa, some of the cum stream splashing into my stomach and then another stream has me dizzy with pleasure as I struggle and make the mistake of trying to squeal. That changes the ball gag so I'm in a panic of claustrophobia again as Marty sighs and lazily thrust in my ass after his climax. He groans, "Aaaah, man, that was spectacular," with me twisting my body and falling to the side and completely off the sofa's arm, his cock pulling out of my ass. My eyes are wild with my face hot and feeling bright red. Marty's eyes open wide now too as he gets on his knees and with his sloppy lubricated condom-covered cock sliding against my side he reaches past my lips and pulls something. I hear a "Hiss," and the ball gag gets a little smaller. Reaching behind my head he pulls on a strap and I hear a Velcro ripping sound. Oh, I thought he buckled it back there. The ball gag comes out much easier than it went in as Marty asks, for like the fifth time tonight, "You okay, Dylan?" I'm working my jaw slowly because both sides ache from being open too wide for too long. He's saying, "This ball gag has a quarter-inch of hard air that I blow up with a pump and a second ago I let the air out." Huh, he did say he could get it out fast if needed to, so why'd he wait so long to do it? I'm trying to keep myself from getting really pissed-off as he says excitedly, "I just had another awesome climax! Fuck, awesome may be understating it and yet it didn't match the one during our oral foreplay." He looks down and sees my soft cock with string of cum still hanging off the head, and then his gaze goes to the sofa where most of my cum load is drooling down the side. He grins, "I should have put a condom on you too, huh?" He doesn't comprehend my distress during that sex, obviously. He gets the handcuff key, mumbling, "Let me get those cuffs of you," and he unlocks them. I swing my arms around and then rub my wrists as he's beginning to get the drift that I'm not enthusiastic about things in general. Hesitantly, he asks, "It didn't work for you, Dylan?" I try getting up and Marty's Johnny-on-the-spot helping me do that as I mutter, "No, it didn't thrill me." Can't put all the blame on him though because I willingly tried everything he attempted doing in hopes I'd get really submissive. Hell, maybe I would have gotten into a deep submissive trance a couple of years ago. Not now though... mostly the ball gag was too big and dominated the proceedings more than Marty. There were some high points though I guess. Oh, sure there were, being honest with myself. I'm still naked as I walk towards the half-bath with Marty right behind, his cock still in the condom and flopping as he walks, asking, "Can I do anything to help?" I go, "Yeah, wipe the lubricant off my ass and help me clean my cum off the sofa." He goes, "Sure, of course." Oh fuck, I'm not mad at him as much as I'm mad at myself. It isn't just the ball gag and handcuffs, it needs to be the right guy being dominant and Marty's not that guy. Yeah, this was an artificial attempt to pass him off as a really dominant guy. He had his moments, I'll give him that although it only amounts to about five-minutes' worth before he'd do something to ruin the mood. Like I thought earlier; it was hit and miss all evening. Something really good and then something annoyingly bad. I can't make Marty into a for-real 'dominant guy' just because I want to replicate a past sexual experience! Okay, so I learned that tonight too. I guess I've never given enough credit to my dominant sex partners of the past. Oh jeez, there was that Marine too; the one in Parkers Park. Holy shit yeah, he was something! We get cleaned up and I get dressed trying to be a good guy about tonight even though very little of tonight lived up to my expectations, but once again I don't blame it all on him. We get dressed and I ask, "Ya want a beer, Marty?" and now he's acting kinda sheepish putting as away his sex toys, mumbling, "That'd be great, Dylan. Thanks." We go upstairs to the kitchen with me feeling foolish. I tried too hard and maybe so did Marty, and again I need to give him credit for those five-minutes or so when he was really good with that dominant shit. He appears to have had a great time though and I'm glad he did! In the kitchen, I open a couple of beers and get out a bag of Lays Potato Chips. Sitting at the kitchen bar we drink some beer along with crunching on potato chips silently. I'm thinking this was ultimately a failed experiment, but Marty did everything he could think of and there were absolutely some points tonight where I felt really submissive. Overall though tonight is nothing I'd want to repeat. Marty just doesn't have that mysterious something that registers in my brain as a true dominant side-sex partner. Glancing at him as he's eating a handful of potato chips I picture his naked hairy body. Forget true sub/dom sex, it'd be kinda hot having regular side-sex with him. Yeah, maybe naked in bed feeling all that manly hair all over me with Marty being an aggressive 'top'. I can't even call it 'buddy-sex' with Marty because we're not buddies. We're sexually interested acquaintances who have now had sex together a total of once. He grins at me, real friendly-like now, asking, "I don't suppose you'd consider getting undressed again and hopping in your bed with me for a normal sex act without worrying about it being sub/dom sex, um, would you? I'd love that!" He tried his best tonight and he took some chances too, that urine routine for one; that was ballsy of him. Plus, being honest I led us into that rough sex with my conversation at the Ale House speaking about 'serious' sub/dom sex. He jumped at it right away of course, but I started it. I shrug, "Not tonight, Marty. Sorry but I'm beat and need some sleep. I've got some barbecues tomorrow and, you know." He nods, "Yeah, me too." He gets a pleasantly excited expression on his face then, saying, "So you're not saying 'no' to regular sex sometime, just not now, right?" It's nice being desired. I nod, "Sure, some other time." We finish our beers as I'm thinking that Marty's body isn't especially 'hot' but it's very hairy and that's unique in my experience. Yeah, I'd probably have regular side-sex with him some time. I can't think of a good reason not to. I mean, what other side-sex am I getting this summer? Huh, I wish Sonny would call me asking for a haircut... ha ha. That's how far down the side-sex ladder I've fallen, reduced to hoping Sonny calls. I'm not calling him obviously because I'm stubborn like that. False pride or something. Okay, great sub/dom side-sex is still eluding me... and maybe it will forever, but I had it once or twice, or fifty times in the past so it's not like I haven't experienced it. Marty goes, "We'll, I hope I didn't fuck things up too much tonight, Dylan. I gave it my best shot but I'm pretty sure it wasn't exactly a huge turn-on for you. Still I gotta say that this was a highlight for me, sex-wise, and I thank you for being a good sport about it." We get off the bar stool with me saying, "Oh, tonight definitely had some highlights for me too, Marty... seriously! Any short-comings are more my fault than yours for sure." He smiles, "Always the good guy, huh Dylan?" I make a 'face'," not sure what he meant by that. Self-deprecatingly, he goes, "This wasn't one of your best date ever, huh?" I go, "Jeez, it was really good. I never rank, um, dates." He grins, "The highlights you mentioned wouldn't be those roast beef sandwiches, would they?" Patting his back, I chuckle and then mumble, "Don't put yourself down, the sex was excellent." He goes, "Is it okay if I give you a kiss goodnight?" We kiss for like five seconds, and then he says, "Thanks! I'll call you," and I walk him to the door. The front door closes and I flop on the sofa in the living room. Actually I'm not very tired or drunk. A pleasant buzz from the booze but it's like overall tonight was less than a smashing success so it's kind of a downer. Marty's sex toys almost seemed sophomoric to me although there's no reason I should think that. Gay men, straight men, and women too for that matter use sex toys at all ages, not just when they're young. Actually sex toys are probably used more at older ages because it takes some balls, some experience, to play with certain of those things. For me though they didn't resonate much tonight and that's partially, maybe more than partially, because I simply don't have a 'thing' for Marty like I've had for other dominant guys in the past. Willie or Ryan immediately come to mind, but there have been others as well. Something in my subconscious has rules I guess, ones I'm obviously unaware of and they control this sort of thing. It's frustrating that I can't just want something to work; it will or it won't work no matter what I want. It looks like I need to give-up on the super-dominant sex expectations and settle for the closest thing that feels real. That would include Hayden who has created the closest approximation of a sort of real sub/dom experience. More than anyone else I'm currently sexually active with. That's if I can even consider Hayden and me as being sexually active; hard to be sure since we've been together only twice and not recently... far from it. He has that mysterious indescribable 'something' that sets the tone for me. I find it easy to slip submissively into the proper frame of mind for sub/dom sex with him. Yeah, Hayden, of all people and I'm not knocking or dissing him. It's just that he's atypical of my past more successful dominant partners of distant fame... he's not really all that dominant actually. He's got that voice and... well the voice. Hayden, the short and skinny redhead with the unusual looks. Actually I think he's unique-looking; not cute or handsome, but, um, unique-looking and sometimes in my head I even think he's 'cute' even though he isn't. Not goofy-cute like I think some younger guys can be, but interesting-looking. Oh fuck, I don't know how to describe him even to myself. I like his little shinny body and his 'looks' and his light-red hair and his big cock, and especially his hypnotic voice. Yeah, his voice. Not the one I hear him using with everyone and not the sometimes exaggerated gay voice he uses. No not those voices, I mean the one he uses when he and I are alone, which is very rare. Hell, I can see where a lot of people would consider the Hayden voice I'm referring to as being too droning, lacking inflection. That's especially true when he's talking to me in one of his long discourses about something I usually couldn't care less about. It's not necessarily what he says, although when he gets absurdly bossy with me that's sexy too, but mostly it's his tone of voice. And he's not the only one who can almost hypnotize me with their voice, mostly it happens in non-sexual environments like college Professors, certain professors anyway, or my dentist or other random people who have that voice, that way of speaking that can put me in a trance. I need to let the voice put me in a trance or it won't happen. It's weird I know, but I usually let the voice do its thing to me because it's so cool being in a hypnotized state of mind. The other night when Hayden and I were sitting in the director-type chairs in the pool house waiting for Danny and Rob to get back with the beer, I was chilling and listening to Hayden and I let his voice put me into a nice trance. I can't even remember one single thing he was talking about either. It was just his voice. He has an inkling he can do that, I think because at one point he got up and, with me docile and pleasantly hypnotized, he did one of his awesome magical kisses on my mouth and then sat back down saying something about that being just a little bit of what I missed. He was referring to me turning down his offer of sex that night. And why the fuck did I turn it down? Some stupid rule in my head about not conspiring behind Rob's back. A niggling point that I couldn't get past. Ha ha, yeah, Hayden can provide as close as I'm going to get to that old-time religion known as really dominant sub/dom sex. After thinking all that, the fact is that sub/dom sex can't compare to my sex with Rob. Not at all, but dominant sex is something I used to really enjoy, and without realizing at the time it would have a relatively short shelf life. I realize now how lucky I was to have been acquainted and became very fond of a few of those real-dominant types. The ones who had a natural dominance about them during sex. That's the important part right there! It has to come naturally to them and I've already admitted that means they need to be a bit of a self-centered prick to pull it off. It's their attitudes and harmless insults that they heap on their submissive sex partner. They talk 'smack' and call the submissive partner names like, cunt or girl or whatever, plus refer to the guy's ass as 'boy-pussy' or just 'pussy'. Hey, Marty did a little of that too, but the manner he said it unfortunately had very little effect on me, like none. Oh man, you also need to be okay with yourself to endure a dominant sex-partner. When I was less sure of myself in my younger days that name-calling bothered me. Not the last couple of years though; it's part of the play-acting that's not always play-acting. It's hard to explain; you either get it or you don't, and I do. So there's that and, oh yeah, the true 'doms' always have a big cock too, which Marty has, but he didn't have enough of the other attribute to be a natural dominant guy. Not in my mind anyway and my mind is the only one that counts for me, obviously. Huh, yeah a big cock is important... heh heh. It establishes their credentials right off the bat as 'the man' who's running the show and us submissive 'bottoms' need to respect that. Damn, I love that shit with the right dominant partner. And oh yeah, Ray is another natural dom. How'd I forget Ray? Hmmm. Well enough of that because tomorrow is the Fourth of July cook-out at the condo of my Mom's fiancé so I'd better get to bed and be bright eyed and chipper for that. In bed I'm thinking... Ray Reeves, huh! Maybe there's my shot at one last big-time sub/dom sex experience.... maybe. It'd be easier than flying to Georgia, that's for sure... to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com ====================================================== Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you. Donny Mumford ======================================================== Hey guys, how about making a small (or large, go for it!) tax deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty. They could use your help covering the expenses inherent in maintaining a free story site this size. Easy directions about how to do that on their 'home page'. Thanks! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html