Date: Thu, 14 Oct 2021 20:57:22 +0000 From: donny mumford Subject: My Summer of Sex With Cowboy Chapter 24 By Donny Mumford MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY Chapter 24 By Donny Mumford Bruce isn't the only guy I've slept in the same bed with all night, but he's my favorite. Waking up, I stare at Bruce's uniquely cute face and his clear, very pale complexion. He says he's nineteen, but it's as if his skin belongs on someone ten years younger; that's how, um, youthful-looking and taut his skin is. People with a pale complexion often have blond hair, and he does too. It's very light blond with natural streaks of darker blond, like Cowboy's hair, both with very short haircuts. His big brown eyes are closed, of course, but I can see them in my mind. There's often a desperate look to his eyes like a wary animal on the alert for, um, something. That's understandable, I guess, considering the hard life he's led. Nobody else ever looked out for Bruce, but I'm going to if he'll let me. The roadblock there is he likely won't want anything to do with me when I confess my big lie. I suppose I should be embarrassed for playing along with Bruce as my leader, but his chronological age is deceiving. His biological age is somewhere closer to thirty as far as I can tell. Sure, there's a young cluelessness there too, but most of Bruce's mental functions are those of someone much older than nineteen. In any case, no, I'm not embarrassed about being bossed around a little bit by him. Anyway, it's our relationship's sexual component that's a much more significant factor than our ages or his bossiness. Obviously, if I weren't insanely infatuated sexually with him, I wouldn't be so amendable to his bossiness, but I am infatuated sexually with him, so... Oddly, I never thought of my prior leader, Ronny, as being bossy. I think that's because I was used to doing what he said going way back to when I was twelve or thirteen. He had a huge personality and was confident about every-fucking-thing, so he became my leader early on and sort of my idol. I was so proud to be Ronny's wingman, but that was a completely different thing from my relationship with Bruce. Actually, I feel guilty that I so easily replaced Ronny with Bruce. And, yeah, I've been thinking differently about Ronny and me this past month or so. Oddly, it was that dick-head, Richard, who first got me re-evaluating some of my previously held convictions about Ronny's and my friendship. I'll never agree that Ronny and I weren't best friends, although now, in retrospect, it seems I was a better best friend to him than he was to me. That's okay; I'm still sick in my heart about his death, and I refuse to spend time analyzing our relationship in hindsight because I fear negative factors will occur to me that I'll never be able to get out of my mind. I don't want to remember Ronny negatively. Negative thinking about the past is a waste of time anyway. You can't change it, so thinking about the future makes more sense, and Bruce may just be my future. I'm winning him over, although I don't believe I'll ever change his bossy personality completely, although I'm hoping he tones it down some. It's not Bruce's bossy nature that could fuck everything up, it's my big lie that will likely do that. As I said, I can't change the past, so I've got to somehow make amends for my big lie of omission very soon. Bruce's eyes blink, and then he opens them. I smile, and he nods his head slightly, saying, "Jesus H Christ, I just dreamed you were staring at me, and you are staring at me!" I go, "You dreamed about me!" He goes, "Holy fuck, I guess I did. What the hell?" I slide over to him, and, without thinking, Bruce holds his arm out so I can snuggle against him the way we did for that dumb-ass training exercise. He puts his arm over me, muttering, "I guess you win. I guess we are boyfriends. How can I pretend we're not?" Well, what the fuck else would we be if not boyfriends? We're always together with bundles of intimacy and multiple sex acts daily. I murmur, "Yep, I win that one, but on your side of the ledger, you're our leader." He sighs, "I guess so, but do you realize you're the first boyfriend I've ever had, and it feels, um, it feels like a responsibility, actually." I'm like, "How lovely. You're my first boyfriend too. Ronny and I did everything together which took up most of my time, so I never could get close enough to anyone to be their boyfriend. Not even way back at prep school." He says, "Not to disparage the dead, but your best bud there, whatshisname, Ronny; he kept you under tight wraps for his convenience. You having a boyfriend wouldn't be convenient to him as you wouldn't be around to act as his flunky." Oh, that pisses me off! Remaining calm, however, I go, "If you don't mind too much, please don't talk about Ronny." He mutters, "Alright, I won't." We're quiet for a few minutes, then Bruce goes, "We've got things to do today, so let's get to it. First up, we'll do the Man creme body hair treatment." Resigned, I mutter, "Okay." I said okay because I like all the touching involved in spreading the hair depilatory creme. So what if there isn't any hair to remove. After opening a new bottle of Man creme, I pull the covers off Bruce, and, jeez, his body always makes my dick twitch. His skin is so pure and tight and feels so sexy when I'm rubbing my hands on it. There's been no noticeable pubic hair growth, and neither of us has body hair on our torsos to start with, but we're doing this anyway, and, needless to say, I take my time spreading this stuff on Bruce's hot body. I suppose most guys wouldn't think Bruce's body is hot. He's very slim, six feet tall, with a hairless body of pale-toned skin and only subtle muscle definition. That's what's sexy to me, though. On the other hand, I think my own body is too mature, too muscular. In other words, if Bruce had my body, he wouldn't be as sexy to me, although I'm hoping my mature body excites him. I'm not sure it does, though, because the only reference to my body I can recall him making was a backhanded compliment formed negatively, sort of. Anyway, I'm spreading the creme on Bruce, and when I'm using a fingertip to spread the creme around his asshole, I need to blur my vision so as not to look too closely at his still battered-looking many-colored buttocks. Even dragging out the entire creme spreading procedure, it's still completed in ten minutes. Then Bruce takes a mere five minutes to do my body. A little later we shower together again, each of us bathing ourselves this time. Then, coming out of the shower, our bodies are now so hairless they shine like a baby's. As we're drying, I casually ask, "Um, would you like me to suck your dick for you?" He snorts out a chuckle, then says, "Sure, why not? We're boyfriends. That's what boyfriends do, right?" I'm not so sure he's fully committed to the boyfriend concept; it seems more like a silly affectation to him... so far. Perhaps he considers it too childish, but the word 'boyfriend' in a gay sense refers to guys who like each other and possibly are sexually active with one another, and who spend a lot of time together; stuff like that. There's no age limit on it. Anyway, in the bedroom, I'm on my knees again with Bruce's penis in my fingers holding it out of the way as I lick his balls. Doing this gives me a hardon quicker than I can lick and suck one on him. To me, no joking around, Bruce is my trophy nineteen-year-old boyfriend. As I said, his youthful appearance and youthful body are both huge turn-ons for me... and I haven't even mentioned his seven-inch penis that fucks me so excellently. During my four years in the Seals, I was hellbent on being a top. I had to have my dick in some guy's ass with pick-up sex, or I wouldn't have sex with the pickup guy. And, exclusively, the pickup guys were at least my age and often older. I've recently admitted I did that to impress Ronny because he told me after college if I insisted on continuing with, as he put it, my childish gay affectation, I need to at least be the male part of my sexual encounters. It wasn't a gay affectation, but he so influenced me that I believed him. My happiest days as a gay were my prep school years when I was going both ways, being versatile as a top and bottom, and, truth be told, I much preferred submissively taking my gay classmate's cocks up my ass. Luckily for me, there was a group more than willing to accommodate me with that, and now I'm finally back to being myself and enjoying submissive bottoming all over again. In an entirely different manner, I was a submissive bottom for Ronny in my capacity as his co-pilot/funky who agreed with and did whatever he said. Asshole Richard, with all his faults, correctly assessed my situation in that regard and he gets the credit for reigniting my passion for being a submissive bottom too, so I've gotta reluctantly give Richard credit for a couple of major changes of direction in my life. And, I hate giving Richard credit because I dislike him greatly, but he's the one who set me on my present course, then Bruce took it from there. Bruce had it easy because I was already committed to resurrecting my prep school sex life. The sexual heat I get from being dominated during sex is otherworldly. That doesn't seem strange to me, but I can understand why it would to some, maybe to most. And, I couldn't conjure up in my mind a better dominant sex partner/boyfriend than Bruce. To me, he's perfect. He may never be in love with me; he may never love anyone after what he's lived through, but admitting we're boyfriends, even if he feels it's silly, is a beginning. And, it'll be enough for me, if that's as far as he can go. Right now, having Bruce's penis in my mouth, getting it hard as stone while hearing his quiet groans and moans of pleasure, is an exquisite sexual pleasure for me. I do all the tricks with my tongue and lips, some light teeth action too, that I learned from the training videos about oral sex. It's arousing, licking up and down Bruce's seven-inch penis and licking and sucking the mushroom head until it's so hard and swollen it's almost bursting out of its skin. On my knees, in front of Bruce, I can't see his pulverized buttocks nor his anus. But, with my head way back, his boner resting on my face next to my nose, the head of it on my forehead, I stretch my tongue out as far as I can and lick across Bruce's asshole. Trembling with arousal, I press my tongue against those tightly closed anus lips, press my tongue up against the tightest part of Bruce's rectum until my aching tongue feels his anus quiver and loosen. Bruce groans and I feel him tremble; then, when I can't hold my tongue there any longer, I pull my head away. Bruce's boner slides off my face and leans heavily down to the left. Staring at it, I suck in oxygen and then glance at my own boner... it's an iron rod straight out from my shiny hairless groin. Bruce murmurs, "Rim my ass again, Zach. That tease felt amazing." Tease? He turns around and bends over. Omigod, his poor buttocks are right in my face! Well, the swelling's gone down, and the welts are barely visible now. Great improvement. When I spread his butt cheeks, I ask, "Does this hurt?" He mumbles, "Nah, not at all. I want your best rimming. It's been too long in between your rimming exercises." He keeps slipping back into mentoring training. I hear him murmur, "Damn," because he just now realized that. No matter, I'd rim his ass the best I can whether he told me to or not. Rimming his asshole is what brings on the most deliciously sexy submissiveness there is. I'm ignoring his multi-colored butt cheek, although it pains me not to be able to lick all over them and kiss each one. Instead, I concentrate on his ass crack and asshole. Thoroughly licking the short length of his ass crack, licking it until it's slippery with spit. Then, it wets my face when I push my face in between his butt cheeks, my nose going to the top of the crack. My tongue easily reaches his asshole from back here and then my tongue becomes an out-of-control licking machine. Not a trace of asshole hair to deal with. Yep, it's a thrill to lick this private part of Bruce's body. Private to all except him and me. Many quick licks get his asshole loose so my tongue can now start exploring up inside his rectum. Oh, damn, there's an acrid taste of feces because he wasn't expecting rimming so soon after his ordeal. I know he regularly uses those wet toilet wipes to clean an inch inside his rectum, pushing his finger there. Not recently, though, plus I seriously doubt the funhouse provides wipes for the hole-in-the-wall boys. Pulling my tongue out, I suck on it to get the shit taste off. Yuck, I can't help but make a face, the acrid taste slowly dissipating. Yeah, my tongue took the place of the wipes. Now I get my tongue in his asshole an inch or maybe not quite that much, but it's in there, and there's no more acrid taste. My tongue goes in and out, in and out, in and out until Bruce makes a screeching sound walking away, my tongue pulling out with the lips of his asshole, gripping it, trying to hold it inside. I watch, between Bruce's legs, his climax shooting out in a long streak of cum. Then it drops to the carpet as a three-foot wet streak of shiny creamy white that quickly sinks into the carpet pile. Bruce goes, "Jesus!" and strokes his cock getting a bubble of cum to drool out. He turns, holds it out to me, and my tongue comes out to lick it off. Bruce's face is red as he mutters, "Awesome orgasm. Wow, that felt really, really good." Turning back around, he says, "Do it some more," and bends over, his hands on his knees again. With my eyes closed, I spread his seriously bruised butt cheeks and get right to it, my tongue savaging his asshole. Bruce is quietly moaning and moving his ass into my face, then away, then back as the sensations coming off his anus's many nerve endings must be a pulsating pleasure. Yeah, my super active and now aching tongue can get the pleasure rolling out of an asshole. In less than two minutes, he steps forward a few feet, muttering, "I can't believe how great that feels... jeezus!" Sitting back on my heels, my boner sticking up, I lick my lips, so aroused I've got blue balls. Balls overloaded with cum but not stimulated enough to blow out through my six-inch boner, and I'm surprised that that's the case. I usually blow my load before Bruce blows his, or at the same time, anyway. He has both hands behind him, cupping a butt cheek in each hand, saying, "Incredible. Did you know I've never had my asshole rimmed until you did it during your training?" Shaking my head, I mutter, "Um, no shit?" I need to cum so bad I can hardly breathe. Letting go of his colorful butt cheeks, he goes, "That's true, although, of course, I personally rimmed about a hundred guys' asses. That prick Richard had me rim his ass twenty times during the two weeks he mentored me. And he didn't wipe well after taking a crap. I'm sure it was on purpose." I'm in a blue balls daze, still sitting on the floor. Bruce comes over, mumbling, "C'mon, I'll help you get up," and he lifts me with a hand on each of my arms. Then, as he often does, he rubs my head, and says, "You're the best oral sex pussy boy I've ever run into. Well, you're not actually a pussy boy, but you know what I meant. I never was nearly as good at rimming as you." Finding my voice, my blue boys heavy in their sack, I say, "It's your training, Bruce. Plus the video of tongue exercises you had me watch ten times." He frowns and mumbles, "No, it has to be more than that. Stick out your tongue." I stick it out, and he leans over, looking closely at my tongue and then putting two fingers on my tongue, stretching it. Letting go, he says, "Your tongue looks normal. Maybe a little thinner than most tongues, but that's good. Thick tongues are gross." Nodding, I go, "Um, Bruce, I'm kinda hanging here needing to cum, if you know what I mean. Rimming you is incredibly arousing to me, and I thought I'd blow my load and was right at the tipping point, and..." He goes, "Oh, jeez, yeah, I've been there. Um, give me half an hour, and I'll take care of you." A half-hour? I reject the thought of jerking off and follow Bruce into the bathroom to do my normal morning bathroom routine. We're ridiculously comfortable with one another after the naked snuggling training intended to get me used to bodily contact, which was just another idiotic concept that, in my case, got me so used to Bruce's contact I've fallen in love with him. When we've done everything we needed to do in the bathroom, with minty fresh breath, we go back to the bedroom, still naked. Bruce sits on the edge of the bed, pulls on his long dick, and says, "Zach, you're an extraordinarily sexual guy. Um, you perform fabulously being a bottom, and your oral sex skills are off the fucking charts." I'm still dealing with my blue balls, but they've accepted they'll need to wait and aren't as big a problem now. I nod, "Thanks, Bruce. That's cool of you to say." He shrugs, "Well, it's all true. Ah, obviously, I was bullshitting Eli about us, you and me, ya know, actually being an independent escort service with you as my boy on the street." I go, "Yeah, I knew that." He goes, "I've been thinking though, Eli knows about the business, and he wouldn't have said all that if he weren't positive it would be successful for you and me. I'd, of course, be watching over you when you're with a customer, and I'd also be recruiting street boys. But with your sex skills, you'd be fantastically popular and therefore attracting many repeat customers, making us money hand over fist." I'm looking at him, hardly believing where this is going. He's getting excited, saying, "What I'm suggesting is, maybe we should actually do that. Not here, but you could sell that gaudy car, and that would be our stake. Ya know, to get us started in a new place. I'd do all the scoping out the best spot to set you on the street and all the technical stuff. It could work big time." He hasn't been this animated and excited since we fooled Richard when I was paddled and high on some drug. Bruce's eyes look alive with possibilities. I can't burst his bubble yet. I hesitantly mumble, "But I'm not ready to meet the street traffic. Those men will be experienced dealing with street whores while I'm not experienced dealing with them." Getting off the bed, Bruce comes over, putting his arm around me, saying, "I know that. I'll train you how to act, make eye contact, know when a guy is a real possibility or just a window shopper: all that stuff, and much more. For christ's sake, Zach, you only finished half the training program. By the time I do your last three weeks, you'll be confident knowing how it all works." Nodding, I go, "If you think I can do it, Bruce, um..." Omigod, why don't I tell him the truth? He says, "Well, you still need a lot of work; that's a fact. I hate admitting that Richard's right about anything, but he's right that you've still got a look in your eyes that makes it blatantly obvious when you don't like someone. We've got to eliminate that because you won't like most of your clients, but you need to make them think you do." Nodding again, I go, "Uh-huh," and Bruce hugs be swaying to and fro, murmuring, "We're back in the game." Then he talks seriously, saying, "Okay, we won't have videos or the online chat and show. No credit card business with you naked online jerking off for a hundred bucks, or whatever. We won't have that to supplicate our street income, so you'll need to be committed to long hours. Me too, I'll be there backing you up, um, you know, when I'm not off recruiting a street kid. If he had fucked me and relieved my blue balls, I probably would have played along with his insane idea for maybe another week because that's the kind of deceitful shithead I am. He didn't take care of my blue balls, though. Instead, he's off fantasizing about him being my man with me whoring for him on the street while he recruits a string of boy whores. That's not happening, so I hold up my hand. He stops talking a blue streak and asks, "What?" This is going to fuck up both our fantasies. MIne of being his boyfriend and his of being my man with me on the street whoring for him. I say, "I'm not doing that, Bruce, although, in a way, I wish I could do it for you. I wish I were a street urchin and so desperate that sucking strangers' dicks and being fucked up the ass by them would sound better than what I presently had going for myself." He has a weird expression, asking, "What are you saying?" I go, "The truth, Bruce. I'm telling the truth for once. Here it is... I'm a trust fund baby, and my trust fund, this year and every year going forward as long as I live, will pay me two hundred thousand dollars a year whether I do something or I do nothing at all. I'm sorry, truly sorry I've been deceiving you for the entire time I've known you. It's not a valid excuse, but I was fascinated by you and eventually fell in love with you, I think. As much as I know about love, anyhow." He looks at me frowning, then goes, "Huh? Are you saying you don't want to do the independent escort business? We'd never make two hundred thousand a year, forget that. What exactly do you mean, you deceived me." I've never felt so bad about anything I've done in my life. This poor guy, this courageous boy, clueless sometimes but mature beyond his years, has tried whatever was available to survive. Even high hopes of maybe being successful at something. No blue balls for me now as they have shriveled to pea-size. I'm ashamed of myself for fucking with Bruce's life to satisfy my own sexual needs. He's like, "Start over. What does all of that mean, Zach? I don't understand." Looking around, I see the shorts I neatly folded last night because he made me fold them. They're on the chair. Picking the shorts up, I step into them, saying, "I'm a fraud, Bruce. I pretended I wanted to be a pussy boy because I liked being with you. I never had the slightest intention of ever whoring on the street or anywhere else. I deceived you for my own selfish reasons. I suck as a human being for deceiving you, and I have no excuse. I'll be sorry forever for doing that to you." I don't know why, but I'm in a frenzy to get dressed. I'm pulling out bureau drawers looking for a shirt to wear. Maybe I just want to get away. Bruce shakes his head, saying, "Are you telling me you went through all that distasteful humiliating training shit just to be with me?" I nod, "Yes, that's it exactly. I wasted your time and inferred things I'd do for you that I never intended doing." He goes, "And, are you saying you're rich?" Nodding my head, I go, "Rich? Um, relatively speaking, yeah, but not rich-rich. Well off, I'm well off financially is more like it." And why is he so calm about this? He goes, "I'll be a sonofabitch. It was right in front of my face and should have been obvious to me that you've got money. Obvious to anyone considering your new $80,000 car and the Waldorf suite and this suite we're in right now." I mutter, "It cost more than $80,000." He ignores that, and, as I'm pulling on a t-shirt, I ask, "Why the fuck aren't you furious with me?" He shrugs, "Ha, do you think this is the worse thing that's ever happened to me? It isn't by a long shot. Hell, I suck too. I was planning to take advantage of you. Did you ever think of that?" Shaking my head, I mumble, "No, you were just doing what you felt needed to be done to survive. It was your job." He goes, "Yeah, my job was to use you to make money for me." Huh, what the fuck is going on here? Shaking my head, I say, "But I never intended to do that." He shrugs, "You couldn't have done it anyway, as it turns out 'cause I'm out of the pussy boys. And, what did I do just now? I tried getting you to make money for me as an independent escort. You should be pissed off at me. We both suck. We're quite a pair, actually." This reaction of Bruce's, to say the least, is unexpected. I say, "No, you're not to blame. You're just doing whatever you can to survive. Which reminds me, here's the other thing I want to bring up to you... a real truthful thing. I want to make my deceit up to you by getting you started in a legitimate business. One you'd like." He goes, "And what business would that be?" Shrugging, I go, "I don't know. You and I would figure that out." He rubs his face, but I do not see the fury he should have about me deceiving him. He goes, "Throw me my shorts, Zach." I toss his shorts to him, and he puts them on, saying, "Yeah, you mentioned that once before. It still sounds like charity to me." I go, "No, it's a business arrangement. We'd split the profits. I put up the capital, and you work the business. When my half of the profits pay back the money I put up, plus interest, then you own the business outright." Bruce mumbles, "We'll see about that. Hey, I promised to give you a good fucking? So, why are we putting our friggin' shorts on?" Can I believe this? I go, "You are one flexible motherfucker, aren't you?" He goes, "Yep, it's how I've survived this long, and look where it's gotten me." I go, "I know, I'm sorry." He goes, "Don't be sorry. It's gotten me a boyfriend who has a $200,000 a year trust fund. What do either of us have to be sorry about?" Holy fuck! Grinning, I mutter, "When you put it that way, yeah, I see your point." Then I ask, "Um, the boyfriend thing, though, are you serious about that?" He goes, "Oh, are you wondering if I'm deceiving you about being your boyfriend the way you deceived me about you being a pussy boy? Is that what you mean?" Hmm, I go, "Well, um, are you deceiving me?" He snickers, "Of course not. Or, I could be deceiving you by saying, of course not, so, in there lies the rub." I'm like, "Seriously, though." He grins, "Of course, I'm your boyfriend. How could I not be, you trust fund baby, you?" Smirking at him, I mumble, "So, you're saying the game continues, except now I have a better idea who's the mouse and who's the cat." He says, "Whatever that means. Get your shorts off and suck a boner on your boyfriend's dick so he can give you a hard and fast boyfriend fuck." I mumble, "Yes, boyfriend," as I drop my shorts, still unsure what's going on here. Serves me right too. Actually, this couldn't possibly have worked out better for me. I mean, nothing's lost. Before this, I didn't know for sure Bruce's true feelings about us being boyfriends any more than I know it now. Nothing was lost there, plus I unburdened my conscience, and I'm in a better place because of it. He's turned the tables on me, but fair is fair. My only concern is, obviously, Bruce is better at this game than me. That mostly is true, as I'm not even sure what the game is by now. I'm on my knees again, so that hasn't changed. Then Bruce clarifies our situation a little by saying, as he's running his fingers back through my short hair, "We're still visiting my favorite barber right after this, then we're looking at apartments, and we need to find a job for me that I can work at right now. And, as you've probably surmised, I'm still the leader-boyfriend, and you will still need to do what you're told, more or less. Are you okay with that?" I mutter, "More or less, yes," and then pick up his awesome cock. It's still a little damp from me sucking it a half-hour ago. I lick up from his balls to the mushroom head as it occurs to me that I know Bruce's cock better than I know my own. Plus, I'm experiencing a feeling of joy as strong as I've ever felt in my life; it's surging through me, and I can't help but smile around Bruce's penis. My big lie was shrugged off by Bruce, who confessed his intentions weren't honorable either, and he just said we'd be looking for apartments, meaning he's staying with me. I don't care if he's only pretending we're boyfriends, not as long as he continues our sex life and stays with me. I get into the sucking and licking on his great penis so deeply I lose all sense of time. Finally, Bruce pushes my head away, saying, "You're going to make me cum again, Zach!" Panting, my cock as hard as it's ever been, I sit back on my heels looking at him, then wipe Bruce's precum off my lips with a swipe of my hand. He says nicely, "Get in bed now, boyfriend, and we'll recreate last night's sex." Nodding, I do that as he crawls in bed on the other side. He quietly murmurs, "Let yourself off the hook about deceiving me. We're even now... starting fresh." I nod, and he wiggles his finger, so I slide over, and he gets his arms around me and gives me an open mouth kiss, then his tongue goes into my mouth. We suck on each other's upper lip and kiss again. Then, Bruce moves his head back a little, saying, "I'm not very good at making out because I rarely do it, so I'll follow your lead." I go, "I've hardly ever done it either, now that you mention it." He grins, "What kind of trophy boyfriends don't know how to make out? We'll practice." He seems like an excellent kisser to me. In two minutes, I'm like, "Bruce; I'm gonna cum." We breathe deeply, and the crisis passes. Bruce says, "Get on your side like last night. Do you need more jelly lube?" I can't catch my fucking breath, so I shake my head, hoping there enough remnants from all the lube Bruce pushed up there last night. He murmurs, "I'm into this no-condom fucking, so we'll get tested just to be safe." I nod again as I lie on my side with my legs pulled up. Hmm, Bruce is not as gentle as he was last night. I'm hoping that's because he's as anxious for this sex as I am and not because he's harboring ill will towards me. When he humps the mushroom head inside me, I squawk out in pain, and all the muscles in my body get tight. I just realized when we took a shower after the hair removal creme application any lube left around my anus got washed off. Inside my rectum, there's enough lube left from last night, and maybe some of Bruce's creamy cum too, that allows his cock to slide easily inside my rectum, all seven inches of it. Bruce grunts and humps hard against my buttock, then gets his arms around my waist, pulling me against his groin tightly, as he murmurs, "This feels so fucking good," and he squeezes me tighter. My asshole still aches from being stretched by the mushroom head, but I embrace the pain feeling again that this day couldn't have gone any better. He keeps my ass very tightly against his crotch for maybe thirty seconds, and by then, my stretched asshole is getting used to Bruce's boner. In fact, while it hurt at first, it was nothing like the pain I'd feel when Bruce first started fucking me. He lets out a long exhale and then loosens his hold around my waist as he pulls his cock back, and I get my first taste of pleasure compliments of my prostate, and I shudder a little. Seven inches is an excellent boner for fucking, and Bruce starts steadily doing that. Not fast at first, just the steady seven-inch insertions, and I feel each inch going up and then back in my rectum. When he withdraws his boner, the swollen mushroom head is caught by the tight lips of my asshole. Bruce teases at pulling it all the way out, but my asshole holds onto the big head that's half again as wide as the shaft. After four steady thrusts, my anus starts that tickling, itchy feeling that gives me shivers. My body has relaxed now that Bruce has my anus under control, and he's opened up my rectum enough to begins fucking me fast and hard. He starts thrusting for real, and it's, "Oh, oh, oh, Bruce, ah, ah," "Slap, slap, slap," the big head plowing up my bowels relentlessly. Waves of sexual pleasure are what it's all about now. Bruce's arms holding me, his hips pumping that great cock of his back and forth inside me. What a rush to have his bare cock giving me pleasure so intense it can't be described, just experienced. Naturally, I don't last three minutes once he starts fucking me in earnest. My climax comes roaring up on me, stops for two seconds at the tipping point, me holding my breath in anticipation, and then worlds collide when my climax bursts out with cum sizzling from my throbbing hard cock. I make a screeching sound shaking and humping my hips as if that matters. Another scintillating shot of cum follows, and then the after-effects have me shaking in Bruce's arms. He's grunting and thrusting like mad, then stops, humps once against my buttocks, and climaxes, although I don't feel it this time. It had to be a small one since he had a big orgasm earlier. I push my ass back, wanting his cock to stay in me a while longer, but he pulls it out, mumbling, "Christ, that felt good." Then he rubs my head energetically, saying, "That's a million-dollar ass you've got there, boy, um, I mean, Zach." My shoulders shudder again, and I go, "Thanks," still feeling buzzing from my ass and dick. Feels really good too. Bruce sits up, saying, "You have the most explosive climaxes I've ever seen. I'd like to think it's me who's causing that, but I have a sneaking suspicion most guys could give you the same explosive results." Inhaling a deep breath, feeling fantastic, I roll onto my back, saying, "Nope, it's you." Hopping off the bed, Bruce goes, "Whatever, I like fucking you. Damn, that was a good time." Sitting up, I'm like, "It was the foreplay intensifying the sex." He snickers, "You'd like to think that, I'm sure. I guess the make-out foreplay was okay." Obviously, he isn't into me as much as I'm into him, but that's okay. I can't imagine sex with Bruce being much better than it already is, and we're going to be doing it for the foreseeable future, it appears. Yep, I feel fantastic! Bruce says, "C'mon, we'll wash up and get something to eat, then it's the barbershop." Getting a third haircut in a little more than three weeks is insane, but I'm not going to argue because too many other things have gone so well for me this morning. Cleaned up and dressed, we go into the living room and notice the boys' bedroom door is open. They're not in there, so they're already on the beach. Yesterday Lee said he would be staying at home a few nights to calm his parents' fears that he's left home for good. I don't know what their problem is since they've been away for the last two weeks themselves. It's none of my business, obviously, so I had nothing to say to that. Cowboy did, but that's between those two. We get a light breakfast that Bruce insists on paying for. As we're walking to the car, he says, "Okay, in the interest of full transparency, here's my money situation. I'm got fifty-five dollars in my pocket, and after treating everyone to dinner the other night, I've got three hundred and change left in my bank account. So I need to find work." I'm like, "What about my idea of starting a business of some sort?" He says, "That's a longer-range plan, and I'd only do it if you work side by side with me." I go, "I'd like that." I don't need directions to the barbershop since this is, as I said, the third time I've driven there in three weeks. It's not a long drive, and soon we're walking out of the shop just as scalped as we were a week ago. The barber is consistent; I'll give him that. No personality at all, but he gives a consistently short haircut. While walking past the pizza shop, and I'm glad we're not eating there this time, Bruce goes, "Okay, last week has been erased from our minds. It's as if it never happened." I'm like, "And how about my confession of deceit?" He goes, "Your deceit never happened either." In the car, Bruce gives me directions to the apartments opposite the college, where he's positive we can rent a furnished apartment. He says, "And these apartments are only four years old, so the irresponsible college kids haven't had time to destroy them yet." I go, "College kids are your age, Bruce." He mutters, "Only chronologically." Wow, I was just thinking that exact thing a few hours ago. At a red light, I look at Bruce, asking, "And we're boyfriends, right?" He says, "If you say so, but has it ever occurred to you that I'm the first guy you've had anything like a relationship with since your best friend died, and you immediately fell for me and made me your new leader? Did you ever consider the possibility that maybe you'd have had the same reaction if it were someone other than me? It's as though you either consciously or subconsciously needed to replace whatshisname in your life as soon as you could?" Huh? Actually, that's a possibility, except Bruce isn't the first one I had any kind of a meaningful relationship with. Cowboy was first, and I was falling for him. That's until Richard's dominance set me off on an entirely different track. And then, very early on, I wanted to please, to ingratiate myself, to Bruce. But, wait a second. With Cowboy, I was topping during sex so that doesn't fit him being my leader scenario. Cowboy is a committed bottom. Well, after I rediscovered the thrill of being dominated during sex, I'm a committed bottom now too. Plus, Bruce fits my image of a leader to perfection. His age was the only drawback, and I've rationalized that away thinking what he alluded to a minute ago. His mental age is far ahead of his chronological age. I tell Bruce, "I've never thought about that until just now. So, you think I'd have latched on to just anyone?" He goes, "No, not just anyone. You rejected Richard after one, um, date with him. I was your very next relationship, though. You latched onto me almost immediately." I shrug, "Um, well, so what if it's true. What do you think it all means as far as you and I are concerned?" He goes, "Hell, I don't know. I'm merely suggesting you pump the breaks on the concept that you're in love with me... why not put that topic on hold. Can you settle for being my boyfriend and primo sex buddy?" I nod, "Yeah, sure, I'd consider that a privilege." He snorts out a laugh, then says, "Christ, if you're trying to give me a big head, you're doing a good job of it. You're in love with me, but if that doesn't work, you feel privileged I'll have you as a boyfriend and primo sex buddy. I must be really something." I go, "Well, you are really something, Bruce; you just don't see it." He mutters, "I'm a realist, not a romantic. Life is hard for me. I can't afford to take anything for granted, that's all." Driving into the apartment complex, Bruce points to the left, saying, "The rental office is down that street." I park, and Bruce touches my arm, saying, "Listen, Zack. Ah, seriously though, I'm flattered you think so highly of me and that you like me so much. I've told you before, but I'll tell you again... you're the best luck, the best thing that's ever happened to me. Your little deceit is nothing compared to the things you've given me." I'm startled. He grins, "That was hard for me to admit, so don't expect me to be this sincerely nice very often. It's easier faking being nice" Nodding, I can only mumble, "Faking? Oh, um, well, thanks, Bruce, I think," and he's out of the car. Then, it's interesting to see that Bruce is just as bossy and pushy with the real estate agent, or whatever her title is, as he is with me at times. He handles everything with her, neither of them consulting with me about anything, which is good as I have zero experience renting anything but a car. I'm good at that. In the next twenty minutes, we look at the four available apartments, and Bruce chooses one, although they all looked the same to me. The one he chose costs fifty dollars a month more than the others, but it takes Bruce only five minutes to talk the lady into the same monthly rent as the others. He signs some papers and then has me sign some. Done that, he turns to me and says, "She needs the first month's rent and a deposit for possible damage that's refundable. The rent is eighteen hundred a month, a good price, plus a thousand dollars deposit. A credit card is preferable." The lady doesn't want American Express, though, so I give her a Visa card. Zip, sign, and we're out of there with the keys to the place in Bruce's hand. In the car, he says, "So, we're splitting it three ways, right? You, me, and Cowboy. That means I'm already into you for almost a thousand bucks." I shrug, "You can owe it to me," and he goes, "No, I'll give it to you in a week." I shrug again, muttering, "You don't need to." Naturally, the first thought I have is that Bruce will put himself on the street, but he reads my mind, saying, "If you think I meant hooking for the thousand, you're wrong. I did that, and I'm not doing it again. That bonfire came to a dead end, so fuck that way of life. I'm getting a straight job as I should have done years ago." I don't know how the hell he thinks he can get a job that pays a thousand dollars a week. I go, "This is insanity, Bruce. For Christ's sake, can't you let me do something for you? Why do you need to be such a hardass? I already told you I've got more than two hundred thousand dollars in the 'effing bank." He says, "Okay, I'll pay you back and have next month's rent in thirty days." I mumble, "Much more reasonable." He mutters, "Thank you for being so generous." I drive to a Target store because Bruce says we need things I hadn't thought of, like bed linens and towels, stuff like that. There's a queen-size bed in the larger bedroom and twin beds in the other bedroom. I don't know what to buy, but Bruce does. He puts bulky mattress toppers in our shopping cart for all three beds, new pillows, and two sets of sheets for each bed, plus blankets. Handing me the armload of blankets, Bruce says, "Get another cart, Zach." The blankets go in the second cart, along with many towels and washcloths, plus bath gel and shampoo for both bathrooms. There's a bathroom off the large bedroom, and whoever gets the small bedroom will need to use the bathroom in the hall. I put the charge on my AMEX card, and Bruce mumbles, "That another two hundred I owe you. Stuffing everything in the truck, I drive us back to the apartment, where we unload everything. Bruce says, "We'll deal with this stuff later." Back at the hotel, we changed into swimsuits and join the boys on the beach. Bruce grabbed a brochure from the rental office that diagrams the apartment's layout, and he shows Cowboy, who goes. "Who gets the bigger bedroom with its own bathroom?" Before I can open my mouth, Bruce says, "We'll flip for it." Cowboy goes, "Nah, you and Zach can have it. Lee isn't staying with me except a couple of nights a week, so you guys take it." Since my confession, Bruce has been awesome taking care of many details and getting things done. The good deal the hotel gave me for a monthly suite charge was $5000 a month, which is one-third what a normal per night charge would be for the suite. This hotel is a block from the beach with a view of a parking lot and not near its capacity, so it was a good deal for both of us. The apartment at $1800 a month, with twice the space and a full kitchen, is obviously more sensible. So, that's taken care of. We'll stay in the hotel the last two nights and then move our act to the apartment for the next two months, after which the boys go off to their respective universities and Bruce, and I can decide what we want to do. Sitting on beach chairs, the arms of the chairs touching, Bruce seems contented, happy even. I squeeze his shoulder, saying, "You handled that apartment and then buying all the shit we needed, making it look easy. I'd still be trying to decide which apartment to take and not knowing what I was deciding." He shrugs, "I took the end unit because it has two extra windows, and we only have one apartment next to us instead of being in the middle of two." I go, "Oh." He's texting now, giving me the opportunity to stare at him again, which I like to do. I have stronger feelings for him now than ever, and no matter what he says, I know this feeling I have for him has got to be love, and lust too. He's so fucking cool-looking with his shades on and his long legs casually crossed at the ankles, his bare chest, and his almost skinny body. I want to lay in the sand with him, on top of him. I want him to fuck me in the sand like I fucked that Charlie guy on the beach one night. In the background are Cowboy and Lee, who never run out of things to talk about or laugh about. I'm quietly mesmerized by Bruce. I can't get enough of him. He covers his cell phone inside one of the towels he brought with him from the new ones we got at Target, and says, "C'mon, Zach, let's cool off in the water, then we'll go back to the room." He sees my eyes light up, and he lowers his voice, saying, "We need to see if we can maintain our three-a-day sexual training schedule." That can only mean one thing. I try acting cool, muttering, "It seems a reasonable goal, boyfriend." He smiles and nods at the ocean, and we get up and go in for a swim. Bruce initiates some grab-ass in the water, and I'm getting the feeling he actually thinks of me as his boyfriend now. Jeez, can this day get any better? When we get back to the hotel, both of us sandy and smelling of the ocean, Bruce grips my arm and says, "Okay, I'm buying into this bullshit boyfriend thing of yours, buying into it hook, line, and sinker, but I'm having a hard time with you being rich and me being a pauper, so we need to make sure we don't do or buy anything I can't pay my share. I don't want to feel I'm being bought to keep you sexually happy." I nod, "Sure, okay," and he goes, "For example, I can't afford eating out, so if you and Cowboy want to have dinner at a restaurant, I'm not going with you unless I can pay my share. That won't be for quite a while considering I don't have a job yet." Shrugging, I mutter, "We'll eat at the apartment, no problem." He says, "Plus, right or wrong; it'll take me time to get used to the idea we're, um, equals for lack of a better word. I'm used to mentoring you and disciplining you and so forth and in my head that is still resonating." I'm like, "You're the leader, Bruce. We work well together like that." He nods, saying, "When it doesn't work well, I'll leave. I'm hoping before that happens, I'll get used to being a nobody again, so being the leader won't be an issue. I just want to be clear that we understand one another." I go, "Bruce, you'll never be a nobody, and I'm thrilled we're staying together." He takes his hands off me and goes, "Take off your swimsuit." I quickly do that and pull off my t-shirt, looking at Bruce with a grin on my face as he drops his swimsuit, then picks it up and puts it on a chair. Standing naked, he goes, "Bend over, hands on your knees." I do that, and he goes, "I'm going to give you a spanking because I know you like feeling submissive, and this should start you off on that track." I go, "Um, seriously?" I'm thinking that Cowboy insists on a spanking before sex, but I don't believe it has anything to do with being submissive. I have no idea, actually, why he likes it. He doesn't either... Bruce goes, "Yes, seriously. I find myself in a position that I'm uncomfortable with. My ego has been crushed recently, and your submissiveness of accepting a spanking simply because I feel it makes sense will pump me up." I start to say something, and he says, "No, don't say anything unless it's to tell me you won't put up with my well-meaning gesture that'll be beneficial to us both." I shrug, "Well, since you put it that way," and I say no more. He spanks away with his hand, perhaps a little more energetically than necessary. Soon, it begins stinging a lot but I endure it, not especially feeling submissive so much as I feel kinda silly. And, as happens with me when I was spanking Cowboy, Bruce's arm gets tired and he stops, grunting out, "There, I feel better and I hope it was good for you too." I go, "Uh-huh, swell." He snickers, then says, "I'm such an ass. Um, let's do it now." When I take the lubricant from the bedside table, Bruce says, "Lube yourself up," and he strokes his dick a few times. After pushing lube up my ass and putting a glob right on my tight anus, I hold my hand up, and Bruce nods at his cock, so I get my lubed hand around it and stroke it into a boner while covering it with lube. Bruce nods again, and I let go as he murmurs, "Thanks for going along with that, Zach. I don't know why you put up with me, but that helped me a lot. Now lean over with your hands on your knees again, and I'll spank you some more." I look startled, and he grins, "I'm kidding about spanking you more, but not about you leaning over." When I lean over and put my hands on my knees, he immediately thrust his mushroom-headed boner in past my sphincter, and, with a hand on each of my shoulders, he pushes his cock in the full seven inches. I yelp out, but almost as much at the pain as how surprisingly little it hurt. My spanked ass sort of canceled out a lot of the pain caused by Bruce's hard cock opening my asshole so abruptly. He gives me a really, really hard fucking; I know he's not mad at me, so maybe Bruce is mad at himself. He got his frustration out on me as his recruit for three weeks, but it's been more than a week since we've been mentor and recruit, and in between that time and now, he was humiliated and abused royally, so his tortured ego needed something to keep it alive, and spanking me was all he could think of, I suppose. This sex, though, it's all good... better than good. It has me quickly forgetting all about being spanked, and instead, I'm thinking only good thoughts of Bruce and his seven-inch boner and his strong hips. The long tight thrusts of hard cock, skin to skin, generates a tsunami, wave after wave of incredible sensations, pleasure from nerve endings around my asshole and especially my prostate, but it's more than that. It's sex with Bruce, who is pretty much my nineteen-year-old man, my trophy boyfriend, and while he doesn't believe it, my lover too. That has a great deal to do with the pleasure quotient I get being fucked by Bruce. Sex with him is better because of the way I feel about him. That's where the brain comes in, but his long hard naked cock fucking my ass is mostly responsible for my intense sexual pleasure. His energetic thrusting has me rocking forward with every hump up my ass, each of the seven inches registering in my brain's eye. I visualize his mushroom head opening up my bowels as it quickly goes in and just as quickly moves out. Oh, it feels so good, and, of course, my climax notices this too and insists on getting in the show by roaring up on me and taking over my brain. Me on all fours, Bruce against my buttocks doing one last hump firing his semen inside me. I make a startling squeal as my orgasm erupts, emptying my balls of all their cum, sizzling for a second at the launching spot, and then blowing out the piss slit of my cement-hard boner. I lift my head gasping as the string of cum whizzes under my chin to hit with a thud on my bathing suit hanging on the desk chair. Bruce and I both tremble from our climaxes that exploded together, my shoulders shuddering like crazy. Then with another gasp, Bruce thrust his still firm penis in my cum-sloppy ass a half dozen times before pulling out his cock, breathing deeply, then saying, "I'm becoming addicted to your ass, boyfriend." I straighten up and squeeze my pecker, murmuring, "Oh God, Bruce, that was hot sex. Maybe you should spank me every time you fuck me." He says, "I knew you'd like the spanking! Ya know, as my boyfriend, you need to help me get over shit, right? I feel like a dick for spanking you, though." I've got some Kleenex wiping my asshole and catching Bruce's cum that's drooling out, mumbling, "Cowboy insists on being spanked before getting fucked. He doesn't know why." Bruce has tissues too, wiping his dick, saying, "He told me you two used to screw all the time before you met me." I mutter, "I wouldn't say all the time. Anyway, since he met Lee, ya know..." Bruce goes, "Well, spanking your ass relieved a lot of tension in me, so it means a lot to me that you were willing to do that." I shrug, "Well fuck, it was nothing compared to some of the shit you put me through when I was your pussy boy recruit." He says defensively, "I was just following the 'effing manual, even lightening up on the training every time I could get away with it." He takes hold of my arm, and we walk into the bathroom, with him saying, "I'll bathe you again. I gotta take care of my submissive boyfriend, right?" I go, "Yeah, and I'll need a lot of taking care of too." He gets the shower running, and when he likes the water temperature, we step into the stall and turn around completely, getting soaking wet. As Bruce squirts shampoo onto my head, I ask, "Have you ever played the submissive part during sex?" He goes, "Close your eyes," and he rubs the shampoo in my really short hair, saying, "Yeah, of course, I've been submissive getting fucked many times servicing clients. I've been Eli's bottom maybe twenty times. When he wants sex, he doesn't get it in the street anymore. He's management now, so he'll tell me to come over to his place, and he dominates the shit out of me, not figuratively. I've always looked up to him the way you do to me." He uses the handheld showerhead to rinse the shampoo out, adding, "It was obvious as hell the first day I met you that you were submissive. I would have known that even if Richard hadn't told me beforehand. I don't know how many times you've been the top during sex, but you're a born submissive and you should stick with that. You'll be a submissive bottom as long as we're together." I go, "I wouldn't have it any other way." He snorts out a chuckle, "Yeah, you love it. I haven't had sex with anyone as submissive as you, ever. I guess that's not surprising knowing your history with your friend that got killed." I don't want to talk about that, about Ronny, so I go, "What's it feel like when you're submissive to Eli?" He's using his hands and lots of bath gel washing my shoulders and chest, saying, "How's it feel? It feels great; you should know that." I go, "Yeah, of course, I do. I'm interested in how you feel being submissive to someone." He goes, "I don't know, um, it's mostly that I like it when Eli wants to fuck me. I want him to enjoy it, and I get kind of feeling inferior or something... submissive, ya know. Christ, I can't explain it." I can't explain it either, although I think it's awesome being submissive to Bruce. I ask, "Um, do you wish Eli would be your boyfriend?" He goes, "No, I prefer you, but if you don't stop asking me questions, I'm going to put you in the corner." Then he does a lot of rubbing around my ass and a lot around my crotch until my cock is a hard boner again. Snickering, he points at it, saying, "Don't touch it," and he kneels to wash my legs and feet. I'm thinking Bruce can spank me every night if he makes up for it by bathing me. This is fantastic. Using the handheld faucet again, with the sharp needle spray, he rinses me off completely, and I'm like, "Jeez, I love getting bathed like this," and he goes, "I feel bad taking my ego problems out on you, so I'm glad you enjoyed me bathing your macho body. I kind of like doing it 'cause you're hot, boyfriend." He smacks my ass, mumbling, 'You're done. Get dried off," and, as I step out of the shower stall, he says, "And, iron shorts and a button-down shirt for me to wear tonight." I go, "Yeah, okay." Naked, super-clean, and dry, I pick out one of Bruce's tan khaki shorts and a white short-sleeve shirt and iron both very carefully for him as I'm thinking, "I can hardly believe what a fantastic day this has been! To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com. Hey guys, please consider making a tax-deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty to help cover the expenses of maintaining this huge free story site. Five or ten dollars, or go large, everything helps. Easy instructions at Nifty.org. Thank you.