Date: Sun, 19 Sep 2021 16:13:17 -0700 From: Timmy Elliot Subject: A kept man in China, part 7 ----- Readers: This is a completely fictional multi-part story involving a 25 year old white American man who finds himself at the beck and call of an increasingly confident 14 year old Chinese boy, while he is living and working in China. If you find this subject matter objectionable, please stop reading now. If you enjoy it, I hope you'll reach out with your thoughts and comments, I am at east.meets.west.te@gmail.com. Finally, please do consider making a donation to Nifty, to support the editors who make this site possible and allow this fiction to be published! ----- Xiaobo's moan sent a tingle down my spine and radiating out to the tips of my limbs. Before that moment, his reaction to everything we'd done had been inscrutable. When he encouraged me to slide my briefs down in the kitchen, or when he pressed his cock against mine in the bathroom, I knew it turned me on tremendously -- I could hear my own heart beating in my ears. The best I could do is assume it turned him on the same way... if he was like me. No sooner had I made that assumption, then he seemed to make a point of pulling back from me the way I was utterly incapable of pulling back from him him, proving me wrong. It was a whipsaw. Now, for the first time, he revealed pleasure in our intimacy. There was no mistaking that moan, it was spoken in an international language of arousal. I felt powerfully connected to him, and my thoughts accelerated. He liked this, and I liked this, and neither of us was forcing it on the other. I was offering it to him, and he was accepting. But what was I offering? Right now, just a foot massage. I wanted to offer something much more. Taking a chance that the "not a servant right now" status was still in effect, I again followed my own desire without asking permission. Leaning down, I brought my lips to the sole of his foot, and kissed it. His foot wriggled in my hand briefly, but he made no effort to withdraw it, and eventually I felt it relax in my hand. Then that wasn't enough. I moved my lips to his big toe, and gently let it slip inside my mouth. Now I heard him gasp, and I looked up from between his legs to see his face in the dim view of the bedroom. I could see his mouth hanging agape and his eyes wide in surprise. I kept sucking his big toe until I finally elicited another moan from the boy, this one louder and less restrained than the first. Thoughts were tumbling over and over in my head, but my mouth was filled so I said nothing. Amidst the hungry slurping sounds, he was the one to break the silence. "Why are you doing this?" The question didn't indicate disapproval, just curiosity or even surprise. I let Xiaobo's toe slide out of my mouth. "Does it feel good?" I asked. "Yes," he answered immediately. "I want to make you feel good," I answered swiftly. "What else will you do?" he asked, his voice now trembling. This was an invitation. I bent my head down, but now I placed gentle kisses on the top of his foot, then on his ankle, then ever so slowly up his calf. As my lips planted their gifts on his shin, my hands gently stroked the back of his calf. It was silky smooth in my hand. Now I could hear Xiaobo breathing more heavily. "Does this bring you pleasure?" I asked, pausing my kisses to look up into his eyes, while still caressing his calf. "Yessss..." In saying the long, drawn-out word, his voice wavered, obviously modulated by his pounding heart. "I want to give you pleasure," I responded, proud that I had such good answers to match his. I lowered my head to kiss his knee, and as I did, my eyes swept past his tight briefs. The glow of the nearby alarm clock display cast enough light to show the definite outline of his Chinese cock, rigid and girthy inside the fabric, and jutting off to the right. In that moment, I knew I wanted to give him something much more than pleasure. I wanted to give this young Chinese boy the honor of destroying my last barrier. I wanted to give him myself. And when this happened, it would not be because he defeated me, it would be because I would surrender it. Slowly, seductively, gently, I started kissing my way up his hairless, young thigh. Occasionally, he'd flex his quadriceps underneath my lips, and they turned rigid and powerful. Now I grabbed the bulk of his thigh and drew it towards myself as I pressed down hard with my lips. We were grinding into each other. With each kiss my heart raced faster in the dread that he might pull away and put a stop to this yet again. But he didn't. With each inch my lips travelled, my whole body grew numb because I knew there was no going back from what I was about to do. When my lips came to rest against the elastic band edge of the leghole in his briefs, I stopped and craned my neck to look up at him. "Xiaobo..." I whispered, plaintively, meekly, docilely. My voice was laden with desire. He fixed me with his piercing Asian eyes, and his answer was just one word. For the first time since I signed the contract, he spoke my name. My fate was sealed...