Date: Sat, 13 Aug 2016 14:32:34 +0100 (BST)
From: "rampage938@btinternet.com" <rampage938@btinternet.com>
Subject: WILL I EVER LEARN?  Part 3 - Fulfilment

I was determined to track Him down so I made sure of getting to the club
early that Saturday. It had been on a Saturday when I had first encountered
Him in that downstairs club toilet. There were a few of the other guys
around, some that I might have been attracted to a month or so ago. Gerry
was there and I caught a glimpse of Nick up to his prick teasing antics
with a youngster who looked as if he was as naïve as I had
been. Very soon the place began filling up and everyone who approached me
seemed very matey that night, stopping to chat and one or two feeling my
crotch. Most of them thought my shirt and jeans were "... the business
man. Cool." Others simply said, "Like the hair, Arnie." They all asked me,
"You wiv anyone tonight, Arnie?" They seemed to be genuinely disappointed
when I hinted I was meeting someone special. However, some were not so
impressed, "Just who the fuck are you trying to be, cunt?" was a common
reaction amongst the usual crowd of jealous faggots. I ignored them and
found somewhere to sit close to the stairs leading down to the basement and
toilets. I sat staring into space with a flat, warm lager untasted beside
me. My cock was throbbing like crazy inside my jeans and my brain was in
serious danger of exploding, shrieking with lust for Him. Christ, I was so
horny! In the past, I'd listened with half an ear as lads moaned on about
how hot for sex they were, how some horny guy made them feel so randy. I
had tended to be superior, looking down on them, thinking they were sad
cases. Well, now I was being hoist on my own petard, as the saying goes. I
was the sad case. Available and fuckable guys were all round me but I
didn't see them. I just sat there hot, hard as a bull's horn and out of my
mind with raging lust.

In my state of sexual anguish I almost missed Him. I didn't see Him at
first, not until He moved into the light spill from behind the bar. I
suppose I had expected Him to be in His tight, dirty jeans and His body
fitting Chelsea shirt. I'd been stupid enough not to realise He would have
more than one look and I was surprised to see Him in black leather jeans
and a white Spurs first team soccer top. He stood with His back to me,
chatting to Chas the barman. I could see how round and tight His arse
looked in those skin tight leather jeans, hugging every muscle. He seemed
to be alone, although He responded amiably enough to people's
greetings. Chas was called away to the other end of the bar to serve some
guys and He half turned round, scanning the crowd. He looked over in my
direction and His eyes lingered over me for a few seconds. He looked away
again and turned back to continue His conversation with Chas. My heart was
pumping so fast I felt as if I had just completed a full marathon. My belly
had an army of booted elephants marching through it. Had He recognised me,
or not? A few minutes later He looked over again. He caught my gaze, slowly
lifted His glass and took a slow, agonisingly slow, drink then moved
towards me. The crowd between us seemed to part like the Red Sea. I was
glued to my stool.

"You look different," He said quietly, no introduction needed. "Those jeans
look good on you. See you've had your hair fucked up, too. Looks good." He
took another slow mouthful of His drink. I simply sat there, like a dumb
pet dog gazing adoringly at its master and owner. He looked good, too. The
leather jeans had a lace-up fly and it had been pulled up tight, bulging
out the crotch. I knew it wasn't that big in reality but it looked tasty
from where I sat. The shiny leather bulged and stretched invitingly. He
spoke again, still quietly and evenly.

"I had hoped you might have called me. When you didn't, I thought you
weren't interested in any more action with me?" He made it sound like a
question. He seemed quite calm about it, as if he had grown accustomed to
guys losing interest after the initial burst of lust had receded. He was,
after all, quite one of the oldest regulars in this club and must be used
to not so gentle letdowns.

"I lost your number. Sorry." How lame, how ridiculous I sounded even to
myself. He gave a wry kind of grin, picked up my glass of stale, warm
Fosters and walked back over to the bar. My cock was still throbbing,
painfully. These fucking 'new' jeans were proving to be a tad uncomfortable
right now. My stomach was growling like an angry cat finding a rival on his
patch. It was churning as if it were trying to make butter out of my
intestines. My discomfiture was almost as great as my burning desire for
Him. For what seemed to be a long few minutes as I waited for Him to
return, I wondered how to continue. This was so unlike our last
encounter. He looked very different, but still horny.

"Here you go, Arnie. You'll enjoy this one more than that Fosters crap." I
had been in such a daze I had not noticed his return from the bar. He
placed a foaming tankard where the glass of lager had been and as his arm
withdrew, his hand brushed across my chest, catching my erect nipples on
the way. A shiver of something ran down my groin into my ball sac, causing
havoc on the way. "Was there a problem?"

He looked quizzically at me. Now I had to grasp this nettle and decided to
tell him the truth, not complicate things with stories and fantasies. "The
card got caught up in the rubbish and was carted away by the bin men. I did
want to call you but I didn't even know your name." My voice trembled
slightly. He seemed to notice it and put His right hand on my left buttock,
squeezing gently and reassuringly. There still remained an echo of awkward
silence between us. He leaned closer, placing His mouth close to my ear,
and whispered.

"You fancy some action now?" I nodded. "Have you been in the back room
toilet here?" This was one of the four toilets in this club and I had
always made it a strict rule to keep away from there. I'd heard too many
terrifyingly detailed accounts of what went on in there.

"No, I haven't." Even someone as dim as me should have known what would
happen next.

Two minutes later we found ourselves in the club's subterranean back
room. It was three-quarters dark in there but I could just make out some
two dozen guys hanging around in what had once been a public
convenience. All the fittings had been removed, including the urinals and
the toilets in the five stalls, although the cubicle partitions and doors
remained. At first, I thought we were the only men down there, as it seemed
so quiet. Gradually, however, my ears became attuned, catching the soft
susurrations of men indulging in no holds barred sex. I became aware of the
muted thump of disco music from the club above us, filtering through the
ceiling and walls. Three of the stalls were already occupied with guys well
into whatever they were getting into. I heard sporadic stifled groans and
the leathery smack of something hitting naked flesh. A moan from someone
who seemed to be in pain was followed by a harshly hissed instruction to
"Shut up, dog!" Then... silence. It was the unsettling feeling of subdued
silence with an accompanying threat of repressed violence that disturbed
me. I began to imagine my already swollen cock, which had been hard from
the moment we descended the stairs, acquiring an extreme feeling of
rigidity and arousal. The shrouded sight, enigmatic smells and esoteric
sounds of all-male sex reminded me of the dirty porn mags I had been
devouring. I would never have believed I would ever witness or participate
in scenes of such depravity and perversion in reality.

I felt Him take hold of my sweaty hand and pull me into one of the
unoccupied stalls, locking the door behind us. The cubicle was even darker
than outside. There was only a very limited amount of light to see Him
by. He looked even hornier now. My hands stroked His leather jeans,
following the contours of His pubic region and tight, firm buttocks. My own
body was shuddering and shaking, as if I was going down with an attack of
some virulent tropical fever. His mouth closed hard on mine, grinding into
my lips. His tongue pushed hard into me. I was not sure what to do, but
decided to mirror everything He did that turned me on. I felt iron fingers
dig hard into the arse of my jeans as His other hand gripped my tight balls
in a vice like hold, squeezing and slightly twisting them. It could hardly
be described as painful but my breath was taken away and my sense of
arousal increased. My blood was surging through my veins. My cock was at
maximum hardness and strength in my jeans. His hand rubbed it firmly
through the fabric and I experienced the first burst of sex pain I had ever
encountered. I must have pulled back slightly because the next thing I felt
was His hand inside my shirt, tugging and twisting my nipples. He pulled my
treasured Fred Perry off me, tossing it to one side as if it were a
discarded cleaning rag. His hands felt like emery paper as He ran them
roughly up and down my back. I felt His teeth nibbling on my erect, rubbery
nipples sending bolts of electricity racing through my upper bodywork. I
was now submerged in a deluge of new sensations.

I never knew how I came to be on my knees in front of His laced up groin,
His hands gripping my head, pulling my face forcefully into His packet,
snuffling, smelling... I recalled odours from before, as well as a couple
of new ones. I could detect leather, feral and depraved. I could almost
taste piss and freshly spilled spunk. I licked the leather and forced my
nose deep into the bulge of His balls. The tension I had been feeling ever
since He'd seen me across the bar slipped away as I began working hard on
His packet, using my teeth to unlace His jeans, using my tongue on His
unfettered cock. I realised in a blinding flash I was unencumbered with my
past, unhindered with the baggage of my step-father stealing into my room
at night to grope my pre-adolescent dick and balls and stuff his smelly
dick up my protesting arse. All my hang-ups and doubts dropped from my
shoulders to leave me free to explore my own sexuality.

His cock was in my face and I swallowed it in one go, just as He had done
with mine. One mouthful of sweaty, spunky cock sent me into free-fall. He
stood with legs spread apart, His hand on the back of my head to guide me
over His ultra stiff cock. His odours were just as dirty as the first time
we had been together and were enhanced now with the addition of leather. He
was a dirty pervert and I was devotedly servicing His cock. In my ecstasy I
closed my eyes and had an instant vision of His saliva coated manhood
plunging into my arsehole, His balls rapping a tattoo against my
buttocks. Apart from my step-father's cock raping me, I had never been
truly fucked. I had never wanted it, but I did now. Here, in this filthy
back room. I wanted Him to fuck me to within an inch of sanity. Who knows
where that vision, that thought came from. Working feverishly on His cock,
I felt it hit the back of my throat. I did not even think about gagging. He
continued to tug and fondle my nipples in a way that no one else had ever
done. My cock was huge, trapped in those over-tight jeans and I had to get
it free. I simply grabbed His thighs and took more of His cock. I never
noticed Him slide the collar round my neck, not until I felt his fingers
buckle it tight.

I gripped His legs harder and sucked Him deeper, feeling a heavy linked
chain lock on to the collar as He rocked back and pulled His cock roughly
out of my mouth, detonating cum into my face. I tried to get out of the
firing line but the collar and chain pulled me back as more squirts hit my
cheeks. He groaned loudly as He discharged more spunk at me. His juice
trickled on to my lips and my tongue lapped it up. It was my first ever
taste of spunk. His spunk was now dripping off my face and splattering on
to my bare chest as He squeezed the last drops of His essence from His cock
slit. I felt His right boot grind into my rigid cock, sending shock waves
of lust into my jeans. The ribbed sole of His boot was going to take me
towards a climax I would never have reached otherwise, but He kept a tight
grip on the chain attached to my collar. I was only now accepting its
presence around my throat.

Grabbing His cock with His right hand He ground His boot harder into my
cock. He started to piss, using His cock like a hose to wash away His cum
from my face. He directed the jet all around my mouth and on to my
shoulders, the forceful stream of piss smacking against my skin. I closed
my eyes to try and visualise what was happening. Instantly, I felt my balls
tighten hard and my cock press urgently against His boot. A deep, primeval
bestial sound exploded from the depths of my stomach. I could not control
my climax as white hot sperm streamed into my jeans, my cock lurching and
pulsing against His hard boot as His piss dribbled down my back, soaking
into the denim. I was squealing and moaning in my lust just like the others
in this subterranean den of vice. I could not escape even if I had wanted
to - and I did not want to. I was in the grip of something ancient rooted
in Man's prehuman past. It had flooded through my entire body and I knew
deep in my viscera that I would never be the same man again.

My cock took ages to return to normality and my whole body simply shook
with pleasure for upwards of an hour afterwards. I smiled a stupid Mona
Lisa smile when He whispered in my ear, "Get those wet jeans off. I'm going
to fuck that tight arse of yours. Understand?" I did not hesitate. "Yes,
Master!" From that moment, He was the undisputed Master and I His
unquestioning acolyte, my first lesson well and truly learnt.

Laurie Page, August 2016