Date: Mon, 2 Aug 2021 20:25:46 +0000 (UTC) From: ropingtop@aol.com Subject: Frank's Wager - installment 1 (authoritarian) Frank Mattone was a solid man. He learned from his parents that "Mattone" meant "brick" in their native Italian, and "brick" was a good word for describing Frank. On the positive side, you know all the phrases for describing a solid, muscular body that use brick. If anything, Frank was two, or even three bricks piled on top of each other. He was 6'4". His parents, who were both short, joked that clearly there was a giant in their background, because no one in the family had ever come close to being that big. He was a classic mesomorph, and some of his friends would say that "his muscles had muscles." In high school, rather than playing team sports, he lifted. And he lifted big. At his job - it's no surprise that he was a personal trainer, specializing in body builders - Frank could deadlift just over 500 pounds. He couldn't do it more than 3 times, but he was still a young man - just 29. He had been at the body building since the first time he had seen a gym. That was nearly 15 years ago, and all the effort showed. There are negative terms for someone which involve "brick" and they applied to Frank as well. They factored into a problem, that had become a BIG problem. However good a personal trainer Frank was (and his clients adored him), he was NOT a good gambler, although he kept on trying. And that's how a small problem became a big problem. He was in to the neighborhood bookie, a guy named Louie Lumaca, for over 80 grand. EVERYONE knew Louie: his nickname was "no neck," because of the way he carried his shoulders. It was said that "Lumaca," a snail, was a great last name for him, because when he went hiding, you couldn't get him out. Police had tried. Angry debtors had. Nope. He was a neighborhood fixture, welcome nowhere, but seen everywhere. He saw Frank one Monday. "Ciao, Frankie, how're your folks." "They're fine Mr. Lumaca." Lumaca laughed. "Freddy, we're pals. Call me Louie, huh? No one in your family ever calls me Mr." "Ok. I'll do that Mr. Lumaca. SORRY. I mean Louie." "THAT'S BETTER CHAMP!" He reached out and squeezed Frank's left bicep. "NICE. You know, every time I see those monster guns of yours, I'm amazed." "Well, thank you Louie. I've worked hard on them." "You know what else amazes me, Frankie? Two things actually " (Lumaca said "dings"). One is: why you ain't workin for me. I could use you in my organization in a BIG way. Do well for your family's restaurant too." "Well, thank you Louie but, I really like my job." "I understand that big man. I do. I think they probably don't pay you enough though, because... see, that's the second thing I don't understand. You don't make enough to pay me back, and that I REALLY don't understand, given that I know your folks, I know your sisters (Frank had two, and no brothers), and the whole neighborhood." Frank began to get red. "Louie. I know. I'm trying to put together a payment." "That's what you said last time, Frankie." "I know, I know. Something came up." Lumaca looked down at his shoes, his hands thrust in his pockets. "Ya know Frankie, I think I've been patient. Maybe as patient as a saint. But I can't wait no longer. I gotta see payment. I gotta see it in full. And I gotta see it in a week." "LOUIE! Where the hell am I gonna find that kinda money?" Lumaca held out his hands at the side. "I dunno. I gave you a week to think it through. " He smiled. "C'mon! A big smart guy like you HAS to be able to figure out how to get the money. I COULD ask your folks you know. Didn't they just finish paying off the mortgages on the restaurant and the house?" "NO LOUIE NO! PLEASE. DON'T TALK TO THEM." Lumaca smiled. "I won't Frankie. They're good people. I won't talk to them for a week. Come up with the cash young man. Even half will do. " He looked at his Rolex. "Gotta go Frankie. Business calls. Take care." "FUCK! " Frank muttered under his breath. He had gotten himself into a lot of shit. What could he do? He didn't know, so he did what he always did when he had something stuck in his head: he went to the gym to lift. "HEY HANDSOME. " Frank heard Charlene's voice. Charlene was his best friend - NOT his girlfriend, but his best friend. She worked out hard too - not as hard as Frank, but if he were going to find anyone at the gym, it was going to be Charlee as he called her. "Girl. What up?" He asked. She looked at him. "You tell me. I just saw what happened. YOU couldn't get a 250 pound lift going. YOU? I think you benched 250 when you were 10." "Well, 12 actually," Frank laughed. "But yeah, Charl, I got myself in some serious shit and... I don't know what to do." "Tell Charlee, Tank (she called him Frank the Tank). I can usually figure things out. As he told her, Frank could see her mind working. She was trying to suppress her surprise at the story, and she wasn't doing a very good job. "WOW Tankster. That's almost 100 grand. I don't think I'll ever have that kinda money in my life." Frank laughed uncomfortably. "I know. I feel the same way. My folks do but... GEEZ, that's their RETIREMENT money. I can't let Louie talk to them." "They'd pay off the debt?" "They would. And they wouldn't say a word. They'd just give me "mal'occhio," the evil eye, for about six months. Charlene got quiet for a minute. Then she looked up. "You know, I have an idea. You may not like it, but... you know that guy Vinnie Squillo?" "Vinnie the Squid?" He had gotten his nickname because rumor had it that Vinnie couldn't keep his hands off what he liked. "Yeah, Vinnie. You know he's loaded. And maybe you don't know: you ever heard of something called the dinner blanc party?" "Yeah, that thing they do every year. Invitation only, wear white, bring your own dishes, yadda yadda. Never understood it." "Guess who has two invitations? " She smiled. "I don't understand" Frank answered. "Vinnie Squillo is going to be there too, and I know he's recruiting. The word is, he pays well. Maybe you could talk to him." "I dunno Charl. They say a lotta things about Vinnie." "Well, you don't have to do nuthin, but... you might just talk. Maybe he has a suggestion." She smiled. "And you get to be my date." Frank laughed. "People are gonna be saying all kindsa things. " "Let em talk. They're also gonna be jealous as hell at how good we look in white. Like two virgins." "Well, like one," Frank thought. All that lifting left him no time for... other things. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Charlene helped Frank pick what he was wearing. He had a white shirt - several of them - but he had never thought about getting or wearing white pants. Now, as he was squeezing into the dress jeans Charlene had picked out for him, he thought "The shirt is not getting tucked in." He rolled back the sleeves, opened a second button because, even though it was the largest size he could get, it was snug, and then put the white canvas belt around his middle. White shoes were easy: it was an Italian American neighborhood. White socks? He had athletic wear, but Charlene told him not to wear any. "YOU LOOK GOOD FRANK. My own knight in shining armor." He was standing in Charlene's apartment because, if she came to his parents' house, where Frank still lived, he'd never hear the end of their questions. "You look hot too Charlene. How RED is that lipstick?" She puckered. "Momma's on the prowl, handsome. Don't get in her way." Frank turned out to enjoy the party in spite of himself. Charlene knew a lot of people he didn't know, and the conversation went all over the place. Frank liked politics, he just didn't know a lot about it, so he listened. It was also quite possible that he had picked up 2 or 3 new clients. "Gee, that means I... still owe Lumaca way too much money," Frank thought. As he finished the thought, he felt Charlene's hands on his shoulders. "Folks, we're gonna excuse ourselves for a bit. I want Frank to meet someone ." "OH. Going for the big time? Some rich daddy?" one of the guys asked. Frank got that a lot. All the body building, all the gym work, a lot of people assumed: he was gay. Or worse. He learned what "trade" meant when someone had called him "a fucking piece of trash trade" at another party, after Frank had turned down 250.00 for getting a blow job from the guy. "Well... rich, sure..." Charlene said. "Frank's Daddy? NAH. Momma here is gonna make sure. Let's go big man." She took Frank's hand and led him away from the table. "Hey thanks, Charl. I wanted to belt that guy." She smiled. "Eric. Yeah, he's a piece of work. I think the only thing he has sex with is a mirror. So self involved it isn't funny. Just jealous. He WISHES he could land a sugar daddy." "Is he gay?" "Ha ha ha. The way he puts it, he's 'available to the highest bidder.' Just your typical corporate whore. THIS WAY. GOOD. Vinnie seems to be just breaking up a meeting now." As they approached, Frank saw the familiar figure of Vinnie Squillo. He was what the guys at the gym would call a "classic wimp." Out of shape, thin, balding, you name it. BUT... Rumor had it that Vinnie had a business that grossed in excess of 7 million dollars a year. No one really knew what the business was, but they knew Vinnie had a new Mercedes every year, he lived alone in a 16 room house just outside of town, wore white gold and platinum jewelry, and pretty much had anything he wanted. "Hey Vinnie," Charlene called, and Vinnie got up and smiled. "BELLA. BELLA CHARLENE. SO NICE YOU COME AND SAY HELLO TO YOUR UNCLE. " "How could I not, caro? You got me the tickets. I've been wanting to come to this thing for years." "And how come Zio Vinnie didn't know, huh?" "Well, you already paid for college, and for my prom dress and..... I can't ask you for anything, Zio. You find out and you get it. I can't even say 'want' around you, you take care of it." Vinnie smiled. "Well, you're my GIRL Charlee. " He looked at Frank. "I got nephews. I got other nieces. Dis one: she's the only one who visits. Even brings me health cookies . I don't eat them." He laughed. "I bet you can tell." He looked Frank over. "I've seen you around . You're the Mattone boy, aren't you?" "That's me Sir. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand and tried not to hide the squeamishness when he felt the limp, wet touch that Vinnie had. He also tried to ignore how Vinnie held his hand just a little too long. "So, you dating this big old specimen, Charl? Come to get my permission?" "Ha ha. No Zio Vincenzo, not like that at all. Frank works at the gym where I go, and we were talking. He's looking to make some extra money, and I know you were talking last week about maybe finding some guy to help you out on a regular basis." Vinnie smiled. His niece was a sharp cookie, but sometimes... But on the other hand, she had just put this dream boat in front of him... This could work. "Frank, sit down, let's talk." He looked at his niece. "Charl, maybe you could let us have a bit of a chat on our own." "SURE Vinnie. Frank, come and find us when you're done, ok?" After Charlene walked off, Vinnie leaned back in his chair and smiled. His white jacket didn't fit him well, and he was too old to have all those buttons opened, or all those chains around his neck. "You know, Frank. If Charlee hadn't ordered me to stop, this is when I'd take a big cigar, and offer you one too." Frank laughed a little. His hands were clasped in front of him, leaning forward to hear Vinnie's words. "Yeah, my dad always wants all the ladies out of the room before he smokes his cigar for the night." "Your dad's a good man, Franco." Vinnie used the old pronunciation of Frank's name. "Proud one too. Still smoking. You didn't try to get him to give it up, did ya?" "No Sir. I would never do that. My dad's in charge. No ifs ands or buts." "GOOD BOY. I like to hear that some of our young people actually know their manners." He smiled. "So, young man, you're in deep to Louie aren't ya?" Frank blushed. He didn't know how Vinnie knew, but he couldn't lie about this. "Yes sir. That's why I'm looking for work. Maybe start to bring down the balance." Vinnie began to laugh. "From what he told me, it's a shit load of money, Franco. You're gonna need some REALLY lucrative work to make that money back." Frank looked down. He was ashamed, and he didn't have an answer. "I like you Frank. And I think I may have something lucrative for you. It's transactional, rather than a salaried job or anything like that." "Transactional? I don't think I understand Sir." "SURE YA DO. You take a private client on the side, she pays you 100 bucks an hour, end of discussion. That's transactional." "Oh, ok. I see. But... a personal trainer doesn't really make THAT kind of money." "I'm not talking about personal training Frank. Well, maybe, in a roundabout way." "I'm sorry Sir, I'm really confused." Vinnie smiled. "Such a baby, in so many words, caro. You kids.... " He paused. "You heard the rumors about Vinnie Squillo, haven't you?" "Some of them Sir. Like, you have to be doing something illegal to make that kind of money.." "NAH. It's not illegal Frankie. It's just something that the pastor would have issues with if he knew. You know what a brothel is don't you?" "Uh, yes sir. My mom always threatened to send my sisters to one if they didn't behave." "HA HA. Good for your mom. They'd be lucky to be working at one of mine. My girls are kept really clean, and happy." He paused. "So are my boys." Frank gulped. "Sir, are you suggesting that....." Vinnie smiled and shook his head no. "Nah, and I knew you were gonna think that. I got something else in mind for you Franco. Remember when Charlee said I had told her I needed some guy to help me out on a regular basis?" He sat back and smiled. Frank thought he really DID look like someone smoking a cigar. Frank began to put things together. "Sir, let me ask. Are you looking for your OWN call boy? Someone to 'help you out' like Charlee said?" Now Vinnie was smiling broadly. "That's exactly right Frank. And I think you'd do fine. Just fine." "I'm... I'm flattered Sir," Frank liked. "But... I have to be honest. I've never had sex with a man before." "Well, I HAVE Franco, and I'm a good teacher. We'd start with easy stuff, move on to more complicated stuff, and ... let's see. We'd start with blowjobs, move on from there. I don't normally do this, but... I'll pay you 500. bucks for the first one, and depending on how good you are, we'll determine a rate." "For you to blow me?" "Ha ha hahaha. No silly boy. For YOU to blow ME. That's how this is gonna work if you do it. " He paused again. "You a virgin, Franco?" "Uh, is that your business Sir?" "It is if I'm willing to pay 5 grand to be the one to take it from you." Frank had no answer to that. "I... I feel like my head is exploding, Sir. These numbers, these ideas..." Vinnie didn't move very much. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took out 5 100 dollar bills, and put them on Frank's knee. "Pre payment. Think about it. You gotta decide by tomorrow night. Here's my card. It's got my address on it. " Vinnie looked over to Charlene's table. "It looks like your friends are leaving Franco. Better get back to them. Yes or no, keep the 5 C notes. Excellent conversation. A presto, bello." "A presto Vinnie." Frank got up and took Vinnie's limp hand again. Then he went back to the table. He gave vague answers to questions about the conversation. He'd think about it more when he got home. Frank didn't sleep well that night. He didn't know what to do. He didn't seem to have any options. If he tried to run away, Lumaca had made clear: his parents' restaurant was the target. They had bought the restaurant just about the time that his mother gave birth to him: 30 years of sweat and blood in the place. How bad could it be to just try it? He got up earlier than usual, put on his earplugs so no one would know what he was watching, and plugged "gay blow jobs" into his search engine. "I'm not getting hard. It's a piss hard on," he told himself. But he watched about six of them. He wanted to earn that 500 bucks. After his last session that afternoon, he called Squillo and got the man's voice mail. "Hey Mr. Squillo. Frank here. I just wanted to confirm. I'll be by at around 9 if that's ok. Let me know if it's not. I'll see you then." In fact, Vinnie Squillo was there when the call came in. He had a feeling, and his almost weasel like smile formed as he heard the message. Nine would be just fine. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx "What do I wear to my first sex job?" Frank was thinking as he frantically got ready that night. His folks were at the restaurant, so he wouldn't have to explain anything. His sisters? Busy on their own social media. He put on a tight dark blue polo shirt, and some jeans that even Charlene had said "made his ass look fuckable." Then he got into his car, and drove to Squillo's address. It was not nearby: it would take him about half an hour to get there. "Good. No chance of anyone in the neighborhood seeing me," he thought. And soon, there he was. A parking space right in front of the house. He took a deep breath. "500 bucks is 500 bucks Frankie," he told himself. "Time to start your new life." He got out of the car and rang the doorbell. He heard Squillo make his way and open the door. He smiled. "Frankie! So nice that you could come. Please.." He showed Frank into the huge living room. He looked around: some of the stuff in the room looked like objects he had studied in his high school text books. He felt a hand on his right shoulder. "Most of it is from Italy Frank. Maybe we'll get to a point where we'll go. You can be my companion. For now though..." Squillo's stare was powerful. Frank couldn't match it. There was a power that he didn't understand, but he heard the low voice say "it'll be easier if you get on your knees, frank." "yes sir," frank answered, and he saw Squillo smile. "You're a natural. Now, open my zipper, but do it slowly, and gently. I've been hard for a while, thinking about our first time. " When frank opened the zipper on Squillo's pants, and his cock jumped out, frank remembered some of the other rumors he had heard about Squillo: that his cock could be called "calamarone," or "the big squid." It WAS pretty huge: thicker than the calamari he saw come into his folks restaurant. "Is your mouth dry frank? Because there's a glass of water if you need to.. lubricate." "I... I think I'm fine Sir." "Ok. Then let's start. Now, first, take my cock in your non dominant hand. Bring it to your mouth. " frank did what he was told. "Good. Now... OH... I thought you were a rookie." frank had started licking Squillo's cockhead. He had seen that in the videos, and he saw how guys liked it. "YES. EXCELLENT. VERY FINE . Now... Nice and slow. No deep throating. YET. " frank's gag reflex was still very strong, and he had to work slowly. Squillo smiled when it was happening. He expected that it wouldn't go as smoothly as with a professional, but he had plans for this big slab of beef, and if it took a while, so be it. "MMMMMM. I'd say you're a natural frankie. Frankie takes a frankie.... " Even Mattone had to laugh a little at that, but he moved forward, taking more of Squillo into him. "I could bite it off, but what good would that do.. And why am I getting hard?" was going through Frank's mind as he got all of the shaft into his mouth. He felt Squillo's hand on the back of his head. "I'm just gonna hold you there, sweetie. OH YES. OH YES. Your mouth is so soft. So moist. So... WONDERFUL." He began sliding his cock back and forth. It was getting faster and faster. Frank realized: they hadn't negotiated whether he'd swallow or not. It was too late. Squillo began moaning as he slid back and forth, faster and faster and then... the thick, salty fluid began to bathe frank's throat. He wanted to gag but he didn't. He thought of all those awful medicines his mother gave him as a kid: this wasn't any worse. In fact.... "WHY AM I SO FUCKING HARD?" he thought, feeling his cock up against his jock." Vinnie was pulling his cock out of frank's mouth. He was smiling. "You earned EVERY bit of that 500.00 frank. EVERY bit of it." "Thank you Sir. You made it easy." "Ha ha. I won't always. That's part of the fun. Do you need help getting up?" "No Sir. I'll be fine. " frank's quads were strong, and he got up. That was the first time he realized: he was shorter than Squillo. "One second, franco. Two things." Vinnie turned to a small table at the side. "Let's schedule a second session frankie, ok?" "Ok Sir. Another blowjob?" Vinnie grinned. "We'll talk about it when you're here. Maybe a blowjob and more. Of course, you'll be paid accordingly. And speaking of." He handed frank 3 more hundred dollar bills. "You're a brave young man, frank. And, one more thing. You swallowed. While I hope you never take anyone else's cock but mine, always insist on more if you swallow. Ok?" "Ok Sir. I'll remember that." "And if the john - that's what they call a guy like me - wants a kiss - that's extra too." "I'll keep that in mind sir. " Frank cracked a big grin. "This one is on the house if you want it." "I'll want it next time. Now franco, let me ask you something... Actually no... Let me find out..." Squillo brought up his hands and brushed them against the very pointy nipples that stuck out of frank's tight shirt. "OH. WOW. OH GOD SIR." Squillo put down his hands. "For next time. Nipple play can be a lot of fun. " He looked at his book. "Thursday night ? Same time?" "Yes sir. I'll be here." "Drive safely franco. Be well." On the way back home, frank's phone rang. He had a remote to answer it. "Hello? This is Frank." "Frank... Louie here." "Oh, Hi Louie. I'm trying. I thought I had until next week." "You're good Frank. Dat's why I was calling you. I don't know what you did, but that cheap bastard Squillo just paid off your debt." "HE DID?" "To the penny. You sound surprised. " "I am. A little." "Well, listen Frank. I don't usually give this advice, but I'm going to because you're a good kid: stop playing the ponies stud. You'll never win." "Vinnie told me the same thing." "Vinnie's a smart guy. Sorta like a chess player. Thinking three moves ahead all the time. None of us are as smart as he is." "I agree Louie. Thanks for calling." "Thinking three moves ahead of us. " Frank laughed as he repeated those words. "More like five." He got home and got to his bedroom. He had his own bathroom, and he brushed his teeth, used mouthwash. Then, he made sure the door was closed tightly, and he turned up his stereo so no one would hear him yell. He masturbated furiously. Harder than he had since he was in his teens. Then he began to cry.