Date: Tue, 22 Jun 2021 21:58:55 +0000 (UTC)
From: ropingtop@aol.com
Subject: Seaman  Terry Whicher - installment 5

Paul could see it:  terry was getting restive.  It made sense.  It had
been a few months since Paul had taken him.  terry had adapted at first
the same way a new pet, or a newborn adapts to his situation:  EVERYTHING
is new, EVERYTHING is an adventure.  But terry wasn't a pet or a newborn,
and he began to need more than he was getting, being with Paul and only
Paul.

To be clear, Paul never had any intention of sharing terry sexually with
anyone else.  If terry needed "variety" in his sex life, he'd have to get
over it, and so far, Paul didn't see any inklings of that.  But terry was
a young man.  He was at the house every day while Paul went to "the City"
to work, sometimes for 12 hours or more, 4 days a week.  terry had
finished doing the brick work in the garden, he had planted, he had
painted the house, and here he was, alone.

Paul had seen the first signs when he had taken the steps he now realized
were misbegotten, of having terry's hair cut.  He had first thought of
having it colored, "just in case" anyone looked for the golden haired
sailor who went AWOL.  Paul realized that one of the reasons he fixated
on terry was his hair color.  He LOVED it.  What he didn't realize, until
it was temporarily too late, was that terry's gorgeous curls, somewhat
reminiscent of the Greek statues Paul had studied in art classes, also
drew him in.   The crew cut he had gotten terry was a disaster.  terry
fought hard not to cry:  "I've ALWAYS  had curls Sir.  PLEASE..."  while
Paul just told the barber to get to work.  terry was less than an
enthusiastic bed partner for the first few days.    "Ok Sir.  I'll roll
over," he would say in a dead voice.  After about a week, Paul sat him
down one night.

"Listen up boy.  I'm enough of a man to admit that I made a mistake.
Cutting your hair was a mistake.  It'll grow back in, at least we know
that.  " He laughed.  "I ain't EVER gonna cut it again.  You're gonna
have to take charge of that yourself:  you tell ME when you need a trim.
"  He smiled.  "I'll let YOU know when you need a trim elsewhere.  " He
held terry's face in his hands.
"We got a deal?"  terry's eyes were big, shiny and sincere.
"Yes sir.  Thank you sir."
"Now kiss me sailor boy.  Make me want ya even more than I do."  terry
did.  And then Paul did.

Anyhow, the day Paul took terry to town for the cut, he saw the boy's
neck turning and craning, and taking everything in.
"FUCK ME"  Paul thought later that day.  "He went from a small town, to
the navy, to two whole days in NYC, and then the country.  He ain't HAD
any life.  Let me see.  Hmmmmm."

First, he got terry a job at a marina not far away.  He didn't tell terry
where they were going that day, he just said  "Daddy Paul's gonna take
you to do something I think you're gonna like."  He introduced terry to
his friend Ross, who ran the marina.
"You know anything about ships and boats, kid?"  Ross looked like an
older, heavier version of Paul.
"Yes sir.  Some. "
"Let's see."  He brought terry to a motor boat that really needed minor
repairs.  They were the kind of repairs that Ross normally didn't take
on:  too small a job.
"Take a look.  What do we need to do?"
terry got down in the boat, and looked around the motor.
"Some of the screws are loose Sir.  If you could give me a screw driver,
and a little lube, I'll get it fixed.  Won't take fifteen minutes. "
Ross turned to Paul  "Screw driver and lube?  Sounds like a night at your
house," and the old friends laughed.  And terry had a job.  He was
earning some of his own money,  and Paul would leave him off at the
Marina every morning, whether he was working or not.  Ross would drive
him back home.  That worked, because Paul didn't want to have terry apply
for a drivers' license and get found out.  One day, terry came up with a
solution
"Sir, can I use some of my money to buy a bike?  It'd mean you and Ross
wouldn't have to waste time with ferrying me here and there."
Paul smiled:  why the hell hadn't he thought of it.?
"Well, boy, I never felt put out by driving you to work.  More time to
spend with ya."  He grinned, and terry blushed.  "But I think a bike is a
good idea for ya. Get you to get around, and it ain't so fast that you
can get away without me finding ya. "  (What Paul didn't know was that
there was no risk about that:  however bored or lonely he was,  terry was
falling in love with Daddy Paul).

After the bike, Paul did some more investigating.
"So boy, you ever play sports back home?"
"Oh, YES SIR I did!"  terry smiled.  "I played baseball, softball.  I
wasn't much for soccer, and football, well.. not big enough and not fast
enough, so I did that.  If we had a heavy snow, we skied.
Baseball.  Softball.  Weren't there leagues in town?  There were.   There
were LGBT leagues.  Paul made some calls.
"Boy, you wanna try out for a baseball league? "  terry's expressive face
showed his delight.
"You'd let me Sir?  I mean, it would be ok..."
"Yeah, there's practice a few nights a week in season, and then there's
usually a game on Saturday or Sunday.  I think we could fit it in."
When Paul saw terry's gaze drop, he wondered:  "did I say something
wrong?"
"SPEAK BOY.  YOU CAN'T LIE TO OLE PAUL HERE."
"I'm sorry Sir.  It's nothing.  It really isn't."
Paul looked at him.  "Now terry boy, you can fess up, or we can play the
"I'm not ticklish" game again, and I can forget how to hear you give
up."
Now THAT was a hard one for terry to decide what to do.  He really HATED
being tickled, and when Paul found out he was... he knew he was in
trouble.  The way Paul did it though, terry was always hard, and couldn't
wait for the sex that followed.   He smiled, and looked at Paul.
"Can we still play the game if I tell you, Sir?"  Now THAT got a rise out
of Paul.
"Start talkin."
"Well, Sundays, Sir.  I know it's not fashionable, but... I miss church."
"YOU MISS CHURCH?  SONOF A.... Now that's something I wouldn't have
guessed.  What's your denomination?"
"I was raised Lutheran Sir."
"Well, I know there's a Lutheran church in town.  I think maybe you can
ride your bike over there on Sunday morning. "  terry looked at him.
"Sir.... I was wondering if we could go, well, together."
Paul laughed harder than terry had ever heard.  "Boy, don't press your
luck.  I'm letting you go stag.  You wanna or not."
"yes sir.  Thank you Sir."
"Now get your ass in that bedroom.  You're gonna prove you ain't
ticklish.  "
After Paul had terry roped down, tight, and got to work, if you had
driven by , you might have heard a little of the howling and yelping.  Or
maybe even the moans when they were done, and Paul had his cock firmly up
terry's ass and terry began to moan and beg for him to keep going.
"Boy, you're turning into as big a horndog as me."  Paul laughed.
"Thank you Sir.  I can't get enough."
THAT was something that worried Paul.  He put it aside for the time
being.  And that Sunday, when terry put on his white shirt, one of Paul's
neckties, his tweed jacket and his jeans, Paul was thinking  "DAMN, I'm
gonna be plucking a chicken for lunch and fucking a chicken after."


"So Terr, you're Paul's boy?"  Connor, one of his baseball teammates
asked him. "
"Uh, yeah.  Why do you ask? "
Connor shrugged his shoulders.  "Just curious.  Guess you're not 30 yet."
"I'm not.  Why?"
"Oh, Paul likes em young.  Be careful.  As you get closer to 30, you may
find him inviting  "nephews" or cousins" over to lunch.  At least that's
the story."
"I'll keep it in mind," Terry answered.  He had a while to worry about
something like that.  He liked the team.  He met a whole bunch of young
gay guys, and some older ones:  the "coaches."  One of the coaches was
the Daddy to their regular third baseman.  When he watched the two of
them interact, terry thought  "reminds me of us."    After he had played
on the team for about three months,  and was fielding at first base, he
heard a yell.

"BOY, GET INTO A BETTER CROUCH.  HOW THE HELL ARE WE GONNA ADMIRE THAT
FINE ASS OF YOURS?"  terry heard the laughter and turned around.  Paul
had come to one of the games!  It was inspiration for terry when he got
to the plate and he laid into the ball. He homered.  There were two men
on base.
"DAMN BOY.  YOU DO KNOW HOW TO HANDLE BALLS."   was what Paul yelled, as
terry made it around the bases, blushing all the way .   Paul loaded
terry's bike into the backseat of the car after the game and drove home.
"Sir, it meant a lot to me that you came today."
"HA HA.  And it's gonna mean a lot to me that I cum in ya when we get
home, stud.. NICE JOB!  Third base may be the hot  corner, but the hot
ass is on first."
When they got into the house,  Paul got his arm around terry's middle.
He was still in his uniform t shirt:  long blue sleeves, white front, and
his uniform pants.
"Feels like an anaconda got me Sir."
"One did.  And he's gonna start with this ear.  HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS"
When Paul rubbed his scratchy beard on terry's ear, terry was finished.
Paul knew just about EVERY spot on terry's body that would simply drive
him crazy and make him helpless. This was one of them.  He began to
nibble as he wrenched terry's arms behind his back. terry could feel the
hard bulge from Paul pushing against him.  He whimpered. "Yes sir.  yes
sir.  I'm your boy.  Fuck your boy Daddy.  FUCK ME.  FUCK ME .  I DON'T
DESERVE IT, BUT PLEASE SIR. PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME."   terry was going to
the gym, and working out with the team, but Paul could still overpower
him, and he was on his back on the bed, as Paul's tongue began snaking
down his throat.  Paul's hands were working terry's sweats down, and then
his thumb found terry's ass.
"OH SHIT SIR.  OH SHIT.  I'm.. I'm.. OH GOD I'M SORRY SIR."   terry
exploded.  He had been feeling aroused since Paul had commented on his
ass at the game.  There were at least three guys on the team who were
jealous of who terry went home with, and it just got to be too much...
"Heh heh.  We'll have to come to some punishment, boy, but for now...
GRAB YOUR ANKLES CUNT."
"Yes sir."  terry reached down and pulled up his long legs.  His hole,
exposed, became a target for Paul's fat cock, and he took his boy,
pounding him.  He pushed in and kept his cock there, then started
powering back and forth.
"OH SHIT SIR.  OH SHIT.  YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME SHOOT AGAIN."
"You better not boy wonder, or....  You're gonna find yourself
tickleman's captive!"   terry just lay back and felt the dreamy feel of
Paul fucking him.  GOD, was there anything better than this?
That night, after they had eaten the chicken Paul had cooked , they were
just relaxing watching an old movie.  It was one of Paul's favorites.
"Actually, there's only one scene I like"  he told terry.  The movie was
"Hopscotch."  Paul loved the scene where Sam Waterston got tied up and
gagged.
"YUM!  He said, pulling terry closer to him.  "Only thing wrong with this
scene is Walter Matthieu didn't fuck him ."
"Sir, you like Sam Waterston?"
"OH hell yeah boy.  He's been one of my lifetime crushes."
"But..in this movie.. how old is he?"
"Well, older than you boy.  By considerable.  I think he was 40."
terry was quiet.  Then he felt Paul's fingers poke into his armpit.
"I'm gonna keep them there until you tell me what's going on. I think I
know, but... I wanna hear it from you."
"Hahahahahahahaahaha.  Ok Sir. I'll tell you but..
hahahahahahahahahaaha"  I cant' talk if.. haahahahahahahahahahahaha."
"Ok, you got ten minutes.
"Sir, some of the guys told me that you don't like men older than 30."
Paul looked at him. He scrunched his eyes.
"Now I am probably happier you told me that than I have been since the
day I laid eyes on you boy."  He kissed terry gently.
"First of all, that ain't true.  No fucking way.  Yes, it's true.  Folks
have seen me with young guys, and you're not an exception. But.... know
what?  My not being with an older guy ain't for lack of trying.  You
young guys.. you get antsy.  You want variety.  You wanna top, you wanna
sleep with other guys.  That ain't me.  My boy is MY boy.  No one here
has seen me with more than, oh, two, maybe three guys before you. One of
them ran away.  I caught one in bed with a guy doing work on the house.
Third one.... well, third one.  He did something REALLY stupid.  He told
me we could both be versatile or it was over.  I told a joke.  I told him
to me, versatile meant my boy took it on his belly or his back.  He
wasn't amused, and he tried to flip me. "
"It didn't work Sir?"
"Nope.  Did my flipping days in the Navy.  Done with that."
"Are you ever gonna tell me about when you were in the Navy Sir?"
"Prolly not, boy.  It ain't important.  What's important now... is we get
a good night's sleep."
There had been one night, about two months before, when terry had gotten
up to go to the bathroom, and when he came back to bed, instead of
spooning into Paul, he put his head on Paul's hairy chest and fell asleep
there.  Paul saw the smile on terry's face the next morning, and he never
went back to the spoon position.

That night, after terry put his head on Paul's chest, and Paul wrapped
his arm around the boy, terry began to think of a night, a few weeks
back, when they had gone out to one of the bars in the nearest town.
Some of the members of the baseball team were there that night, and they
were still talking about what had happened.  Paul had left terry with
some of his friends from the team, to go and get them a couple beers.
(Paul was trying to, as he put it  "refine terry's tastes" by getting him
to drink wine, and other harder spirits, but terry was still a beer man,
and at least at a bar like this, Paul was fine with him having beer.  The
line was long, and Paul was gone for a while.  During the time he was
away, a man came up to the ball players.  He made a bee line for terry.

"Hey.  Do I know you?  Because If I don't, I'd like to." terry smiled.
"No, I don't think you do. "
"Well, how about maybe getting to know each other.  Can I get you a
drink?"  The guy probably didn't see the fear in terry's eyes, as Paul's
hand came down on the man's shoulder.
"I think the boy isn't interested.  Move on bud"
The guy wasn't giving ground.  "Who the hell are you? I'll talk to him if
I please."
Paul planted his feet, put the beers down and looked the man in the eye.
"Mister, let me explain.  That boy belongs to ME.  I'M THE ONE  who
decides who he talks to and doesn't.  And I've decided about you.
SCRAM."  The look on Paul's face reminded terry of the time he caught him
jerking off.  It was scary.  The guy looked away.
"Dude, misunderstanding.  Don't leave your toys out, or they may
disappear on you."
At first, terry had mixed feelings.  "The boy belongs to ME" kind of
intimidated him.  He never thought of himself as being OWNED by Paul.  He
knew some of the other guys wore choker collars, or had tattoos, or some
sign that showed that they had Masters, or Doms, or  Daddies.  Paul
hadn't done that to him.  While he was still scared by what COULD have
happened - what if the guy had a knife, or worse, a gun, or something -
after it was over, and he began to realize what Paul meant, he felt,
well, much better.  And aroused.  VERY aroused.  Every time Paul did
something that made clear who was in charge it got terry hot.  Now, as he
sort of drifted into sleep, thinking about that, he snuggled closer to
Paul, and Paul moved his hand down to terry's ass.
"I think you may need to take care of one thing before you go to sleep,
boy."
"What's that Sir?"
"Heh heh.  Look under the covers."
terry moved them aside, and saw that Sir Paul had a raging hard on.
"Do you want me to sit on it, Sir?
"No.  I want you to suck it.  I want you to drain every last bit of seed
out of my balls.  EVERY last bit. "
"OH YES SIR."  terry smiled.  When he sucked Paul, he felt like he had at
least a little bit of control, even if Paul could just shove his face
down and make it clear:  any thoughts he had about control were an
illusion.
"YES BABY BOY.  SUCK THAT COCK.  DRAIN YOUR DADDY.  Make him start all
over in the morining.  "  Paul was smiling.  terry's cocksucker lips were
perfect for the job, and he was pumping his hips.  He smiled inside when
he saw terry move his hand toward his own cock, and then move it away.
The training was working.  Paul bucked his hips one more time, hard, and
the jizz started flowing down terry's throat.
"MMMMMM.  boy, you have a job here forever if you keep doing that as well
as you do."
terry smiled.  "Thank you Sir.  It's a fun job."  Paul pulled on the back
of terry's hair and smiled.  "Go clean out your mouth.  When I kiss you
tomorrow, I wanna taste YOU, not me."
"Yes sir.  OH YES SIR."   Paul seemed to be asleep when terry came back
and he put his head on Paul's chest.  He felt Paul's strong arm surround
him.  Paul's breathing was slow and regular, as if he were sleeping.
terry whispered something very low.
"I love you Sir."  He didn't think Paul would hear him.  Then he heard
the bass whisper back.
"And I love you boy."  He saw Paul smile a big smile before he really did
go to sleep.

The next day, on his lunch break from the marina, terry pulled out his
phone and looked up "hopscotch." He found the scene Paul loved so much
and went off to shop for clothes as close to what the guy was wearing as
he could find.  He was gonna create a scene for his Daddy/lover.  He
hoped Sir Paul would like it.

He did.  You'll read about it.... soon.