by Blake Dawson* <email@example.com>
From the Preface to Chapter 1:
If you like to read this kind of story but are concerned about possible legal implications, work to change the law! If you don’t, why are you here?
*Blake Dawson is the person the otherwise anonymous author would be if “trading places” became magically possible.
With cricket off my mind for a while, I found myself spending more and more time helping with mum’s business. Never recognising personal limits, I took a natural interest in issues that in other places might have been left to directors or senior management. In particular I provided a bit of a balance to mum’s easy acceptance of anybody who put their hand up as a prospective client or a casual sub-contractor—providing her, over what had become our regular 8 o’clock dinner together, with some serious research which more than once saved her from getting tangled up with proven parasites and helped her to more quickly bring to an end arrangements which were not working. The frequent short periods of think time one gets in a rigidly timetabled school system as often as not found me thinking about the business in terms of any new idea which may have passed my way, and one autumn afternoon it struck me that for a public relations company we did precious little for our own public relations.
I quickly persuaded mum that instead of bothering with some indulgent celebration of the calendar finally recognising me as a teenager, that we should instead put on a function for our most important clients and sub-contractors plus a few of our industry partners and sought after prospects in each category. If we went for late Wednesday afternoon when they weren’t on tour, enough members of Lukie’s band would turn up to provide a bit of entertainment, and by making use of both the office areas and our living areas, we could reasonably cater for 30-40. Before we set the date I needed to make sure that Malcolm Forsyth would be able to accept his personal invitation. Mum even recruited a couple of the more active women she knew from the cricket club to help with the catering and serving, and they took the very different menu and format in their stride.
The whole show went off spectacularly well, and as soon as the crowd had broken up the cricket ladies had everything packed away and tidied up, leaving Lucas, Malcolm, mum and I sitting around a table with final drinks and coffee. My conversation with Malcolm soon produced an excuse to check something on the Net from the computer in my room, and I knew our departure would hasten the other two heading for the other end of the house. In the few short metres from our dining room to my bed-study I had to complete a rapid regression from business host to playful pre-teen, a condition I was supposed to have finally put behind me a few days earlier.
Malcolm seemed more than happy to play along with my sudden boyish pranksterism, although I don’t think either of us ever bothered to resolve how much was charades and how much was us each doing exactly what we felt like doing. Our games became quite physical though not at first affectionate and soon landed us on my oversized bed which was the only space that lent itself to unpredictable movement. We gradually descended to an unannounced contest as to who could tap the other person where without the other trapping their hand in action, and before long Malcolm’s tap on my far hip was withdrawn just slowly enough that I trapped his hand square on my already firm but not much grown dick and successfully resisted his feeble attempts to get it away. At first he just left it there passively except for the occasional flexing as if to move it, while we tried to continue the game with our free hands. In the process, I rolled over towards him, trapping his hand almost underneath me while our movements somehow conspired to get his thumb under my waist band to the point where its tip was brushing the tip of my dick, at the same time as I managed to throw my leg across his body and rub the inside of my knee across his equally firm and much bigger dick. We stayed in that position just long enough for the sexual contacts to be indisputable and then I jumped right on top of him face to face, hugging his shoulders and burying my face in his neck. His arms quickly engulfed me and his hands started to knead my buttocks and soon we were rubbing our still fully clothed bodies together in an obviously sexual motion. I soon climaxed and he insisted he needed to go to the toilet, from which I demanded he return promptly.
I timed his return so that I was just stepping out of my jocks and into some light weight pyjamas, and said that I would really like to talk to him for a while, but seeing the time it might be best we talked in bed. He didn’t demur and retrieved a pair of silky boxer shorts from his briefcase, which he proceeded to change into directly in front of my gaze, before sliding into the far side of my bed. I knew we were both a long way from sleep and genuinely wanted to talk about business management, which we must have done for over half an hour before even our hands made tentative contact. I soon changed that to interlocked fingers gripped tightly, while pursuing the conversation uninterrupted. Reckoning on the next wave of sleepiness not being far away, I rolled over close and at the same time turned my hand so that it was cupped inside his. Realising the possibilities, he drew my hand to within centimetres of the front of his boxers, and I responded with tentative touching at the same time as bringing our cheeks close. When I lightly grasped his shaft, he let go the back of my hand and moved to find and start fondling my dick, at which point our conversation petered out and we masturbated each other to a climax, kissed briefly and were soon sleeping.
Waking a couple of hours later, I snuggled into Malcolm forcefully enough to wake him without him being sure whether I was actually awake. His hands were soon cautiously exploring my body and with a couple of spasms of movement, I managed to position his head on my chest which he started gently kissing and licking. My forearm clumsily pushed on the back of his head and so directed the attention of his mouth to my groin area, where he discovered my hard little dick which quickly became the subject of his mouth’s attention. I soon ceased any pretences of sleep and moved with more care into a 69 position which he happily joined. Having both climaxed, I kissed him deeply then turned and snuggled my back into his arms which happily wrapped around me before I again feigned sleep.
Within minutes his hands were again fondling me and while my dick was quickly erect, my body stayed limp. I may even drifted into and out of sleep over the next little session but I was certainly aware of what was going on in an almost detached fashion. He was soon sucking me again and when only my dick showed any response, I noticed him fiddling for something off the bed and soon felt a couple of well lubricated fingers probing between my buttock cheeks. The tip of one finger settled on my ring and I let myself concentrate a little on keeping it tight enough for that finger to have to earn its entry. As soon as he felt his finger elicit a reflex thrust from my dick, he withdrew both his mouth and finger and again reached off the bed for what I was sure would be a condom that was soon probing my buttock cheeks. I used my buttock muscles to grab and hold his dick, making sure he really felt he was earning the first contact of his dick against my ring. Once he found that position and I showed no reaction he went back to careful probing, along my crack and around the hole, before starting to push in. I extended the game for quite a while before his knob finally slipped through my ring which immediately grabbed him tight and it became his turn to play for time with a boy he must have still half believed was asleep. Eventually he started to press in again very tentatively to which I only put up token resistance, especially after he returned his grip to my throbbing dick to push my body back even tighter against his. He only ever managed a few slow thrusts before I climaxed strongly and precipitated him to follow. As soon as he withdrew, I rolled onto him face down and kissed him passionately and he returned with equal force.
Breaking for breath, he reluctantly suggested that maybe he should leave in a few minutes. I agreed that I needed some real sleep and suggested that he might sleep better in a familiar bed. I thanked him with total sincerity for the long discussion we had shared on business, explaining that I wanted to be able to give my mother the best possible advice as she was inexperienced at many of the behind the scenes tasks needed to run even a small business and that at least I got to have a decent talk with her most every day. He said that he fully knew I was now in a position to make him do anything I wanted: “even walk across the Harbour Bridge on my hands.” I said I knew that before we entered my room, but for that night my wish had been simply for him to do whatever he wanted to do. I also told him that while I had enjoyed what we had shared that night as much as he had, that I was not in the market for a regular older partner because I was not prepared to accept anybody with even the best intentions thinking that they had to try to substitute for the father I didn’t have: “The oldest of my regular lovers is probably right now screwing the arse of my mother up the other end of the house, but he is a brother not a father and that’s the way I’m going to keep it. However, I do want you to promise me one thing—if you ever have any problems with the work we are doing for your company, you must ring me personally and give me enough time to get it fixed. And once in a while I wouldn’t mind spending a bit of time at your place to further my knowledge of business and whatever else we feel like at the time.” I finally rolled off him so he could get out of bed and prepare to leave.
After we warmly bade farewell I remembered the school yard tale about the debonaire young man and his glamorous companion: “Would you share your bed with me if I was to give you a million dollars?” “I would be more than pleased to.” “Well would you still if all I could give you was twenty dollars?” “What do you think I am, a whore?” “You have already established that, and now I’m just haggling about the price.” For the first time in my life, I knew I had prostituted myself with Malcolm Forsyth, not that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy it, but the truth was that I had set the whole thing up and carried it out for purely mercenary reasons. And I thought my price was nearer the top of that range.
I awoke for a piss in time to decide I could make it to school. In between eating party leftovers for breakfast and packing more party leftovers for lunch, I barged into mum’s room and announced: “Hey, Lukie. I just wanted to let you know that you now have an appointment to fuck my arse tonight,” and ducked out even quicker.