Date: Sat, 2 Apr 2005 15:40:35 -0800 (PST)
From: ds elliot <dselliot28@yahoo.com>
Subject: Tim's Return  -  Part I  (Gay male/Beginnings section)

Tim's Return - Part I

by ds elliot


This is a story about consensual sex between two adult males. If you are
adverse to reading such stories, if you are not supposed to be reading
stories of this nature because you are not of legal age, or if stories of
this nature are illegal for you to read in your part of the world...
please navigate to another site now.

This story may not be posted to any other site without the express
written permission of the author. The author retains all rights to this
story and holds the Copyright 2005.

I do appreciate hearing from the readers. Please contact me and tell me
what you think. I always appreciate your comments, suggestions, and
constructive criticism. You can contact me at: dselliot28@yahoo.com


and now to the story...


My life hasn't been easy. I guess I need to give you some background
information so you can understand how I ended up at Joe's that Saturday
afternoon. Believe me it wasn't easy to go there. It was even harder to
ask for his help. Hardest of all was to take what he offered on his
terms. I suppose on some level I knew it wouldn't be easy... hell, I was
fairly sure he probably would turn me away and laugh in my face. I would
probably deserve that along with his "I told you so" comments. He had
every right to say that because it was true. He did tell me, but I just
wouldn't listen. Damn, I really wish I'd listened to him back then.

I'm the third child of an unhappy marriage. My parents were separated
prior to my conception. I'd been told that the pregnancy is what brought
them back together. My older brother and sister blamed me for that -- and
still do to this day. My family is about as screwed up as any family
could be -- always has been and probably always will be. I left home the
first time at 16. I'd been kicked out of high school for fighting. There
were lots of reasons they could have kicked me out of high school. I'm
surprised it took them as long as it did. My parents weren't happy with
that at all. That evening there was a huge argument at home that ended
with my dad beating the crap out of me. It wasn't the first time he did
that, but I decided it was the last time. I left.

My old man was a great guy when he was sober, but give him a drink or two
and he got mean. If he wasn't verbally abusive, he was physically
abusive. More often than not, he was both. No one was above or beyond the
reach of his behavior when he was drinking. I never saw him hit my mom,
but it wasn't uncommon to hear them yelling at each other and to hear
things breaking during the argument. The result was that we didn't have
matching dishes or lamps that lasted very long at our house.

I remember once at 13 when my dad was drunk. I was the target that
evening. I was already crying when he sent me to my room to wait for him.
I don't recall what I did, but when he sent one of us to our room we knew
a beating was coming soon. I always prayed that he'd forget about me, but
he never did. That night he came to my room about an hour later. I was
still sniveling when he walked in and slammed the door behind him. He
grabbed me by the arm and yanked me off the bed. He sat down as he told
me to get ready. Getting ready meant getting him the strap that hung on
the back of the door and dropping your pants. I was crying as I handed
him the strap. I was fumbling with my own belt mostly because I couldn't
see through the tears in my eyes. He was impatient and grabbed me by the
shirt pulling me towards him. The buttons went flying as he drug me
between his legs. He opened my belt and pulled my pants and shorts down.
He pulled my shirt off over my head. I was standing there with my pants
and shorts around my ankles as he drug me to the desk chair and had me
bend over the back of it. I'd been in his position before. I was scared.

I hung onto the the legs of that chair as he wailed away at my bare ass.
I don't know how many times he hit me, but I do remember that my ass was
sore for days after. The worst part of it all was when he was finished
beating me and forced me to stand in front of him. He told me that I was
lucky that he didn't just kick me out since I wasn't even his kid anyway.
What a fucking low blow! Nothing anyone could ever do could hurt worse
than hearing that statement come out of the mouth of the man you believe
to be your dad. I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
I couldn't breathe. I just collapsed on the floor in a heap as I
continued to sob. He just laughed as he got to his feet and slapped me
hard on my sore ass before he left the room.

I bounced around from one friend to another after I left home at 16. It
wasn't an easy life, but it was better than being beaten. At one point
during my 18th year my parents and I reconciled our differences. They
wanted me to come back home, get my GED, and get a job. I'd been sleeping
on the floor at a run down old house so the idea of sleeping in my own
bed and regular access to food sounded great. I went back home. I did get
my GED in only a few months. I had found a job too. It didn't pay much,
but it was work and some much needed money. I thought everything was
going pretty good until I came home one day to find my dad sitting in his
car. It was parked in the driveway with the motor running, but he wasn't
moving. I banged on the roof of the car, but he didn't stir. I opened the
door to find blood and bits of his skull in the backseat. He was still
holding the gun in his lap.

I was totally freaked! I don't know what I did after that. I remember my
mom sitting next to me as I was lying on a bed in the hospital. I found
out it had been four days since I'd found my dad dead. I was in shock.
Once awake and eating on my own, I was sent home with instructions to see
a psychiatrist. I tried that, but it just didn't work for me. I hated the
woman and didn't like her sick questions or probing to find out how I
felt. It was none of her fucking business how I felt.

Things just seemed to go from bad to worse at that point. I was fighting
with my mom all the time. I stopped going to work. I stopped seeing my
friends. I started to drink and smoke weed much more heavily than before.
I slept all day and drank, smoked, and fucked any bitch I could get to
come home with me. My mom called the police on me more than once because
of my violent behavior towards her. That finally ended with her getting a
restraining order to keep me away from her and the house. I spent a few
days in jail to 'cool off'. When I got out of jail I just bummed around.
I worked when I needed to, but mostly I sold weed and ripped off anyone I
could along the way. It was a living.

I got busted for a fight in a convenience store. I spent that weekend in
jail but was released until my trial date at the arraignment. I didn't
bother to show up for that. I was nearly 20 when that warrant caught up
with me. I spent 30 days in jail for the fight and failure to appear.
When I got out I decided to try to get my shit together. I ran into a
high school girl friend. She offered me a place to crash. I took it.
While staying with her I got a temp job. That is where I met Joe.

Joe was one of the owners of this construction company. They did high end
home construction and needed some extra labor. I wasn't but a gofer for
the crew, but it was decent enough work. Joe was a stern and demanding
boss, but he was fair. Everyone liked Joe. He was a man's man and wasn't
afraid to get his hands dirty doing whatever needed to be done at the job
site. He worked as hard if not harder than the rest of the crew. I
admired the way that he worked and commanded the respect of everyone
including the people who were paying for the house. As I look back on
those days, I guess I had a bad case of hero worship going on then with
Joe. I really wanted to be just like him.

When the temp job was finished, Joe sat me down for a talk. He wanted to
know where I was headed in life. No one had ever asked me that before so
I really didn't know how to answer. The gist of what Joe was trying to
tell me is that if I was interested, worked hard, applied myself, and
showed commitment, I could grow with his company and learn valuable
skills in the process. He was offering me a chance to succeed. I was damn
excited about the prospects and promised to always do my best for him and
the company. I got a full time position that paid darn good for someone
without any skills.

My next job at the company was with another crew so I didn't see much of
Joe. Things at home were getting bad fast. I'd been banging on the chick
I was living with but to me at least it wasn't anything serious -- just
getting us both off. She seemed to have other ideas and wanted some sort
of commitment. Shit, I sure as hell didn't see that coming. When I wasn't
able to commit or refused to commit, she told me I had until the end of
the month to get out. I asked all the guys at work if any of then
wanted/needed a roommate or knew anyone who did. No one seemed to have
any ideas.

By the time I started to panic, it was three days until the end of the
month. I went to see Joe after my shift. He didn't have any ideas or know
anyone who might want a roommate. I was practically begging him to let me
camp out in his backyard or garage just until I found a place. He
eventually relented and said I could stay on a temporary basis. I thanked
him and asked if I could move my things that weekend. He agreed to help
me on Saturday morning.

When Joe arrived with his pickup truck at 9:00 Saturday morning, I was
still crashed out on the couch. I could tell that Joe was pissed. I was
supposed to be packed up and ready to load the truck. Nothing was fucking
packed. I didn't even have boxes or anything. I told him I was sorry and
tried to make excuses, but he wasn't interested. He told me he would be
back at 10:30. If I didn't have my shit ready, he wasn't hanging around
to wait.

I never moved to fucking fast in my whole life. I was cramming clothes
into trash bags and piling up my things at the door. I didn't have a lot
of stuff, but I did have clothes, pillows and blankets, shoes, a small
tv, an old computer, some books, and a few other odds and ends. I was out
of breath and basically ready when Joe pulled back up to the house. I
don't think I stopped apologizing the entire time it took to load the
truck. Joe finally told me he was tired of listening to my apologies and
wasn't interested in them. I didn't want Joe to be mad at me.

We made small talk as we drove to his place. I had no idea where he
lived, but I soon got the idea that it wasn't in the city. It took about
45 minutes to get to Joe's. It was out in the country. I couldn't believe
the place! It was huge. He told me that he designed and built it himself.
I couldn't believe it. The driveway to the house was well over two
football fields long. He pulled into the four car garage and closed the
door. He had two other hot cars in the garage -- an old muscle car from
the 70's that was completely restored and a newer Mercedes 560. In the
last bay was a power boat. Damn! He had all the toys. He had all the
things I wanted.

I followed him into the house. It was afternoon so my stomach was
rumbling despite my efforts to control it. Joe asked if I was hungry. I
told him I was starved. He didn't say much as he started to prepare lunch
for the both of us. Usually I ate fast food and junk food, but Joe didn't
have any junk food in the house and hated fast food joints. The meal he
prepared was great, but way different than I was accustomed to eating.
When we finished I just got up and started to walk away from the table.
Joe informed me that I had to wash dishes. I didn't like the idea, but I
gathered the plates and glasses and silverware and took them to the sink.
To me -- the way I was raised -- this shit was womens work. Men didn't do
this shit, but I guess without any women in the house we'd both be doing
this stuff. I still didn't like it, but I washed and dried the dishes and
utensils as Joe sat at the table sipping coffee and telling me where to
put things.

He then took me upstairs to the room I would get to use while I was
there. It was a great room with a view of the huge front yard. He saw how
my clothes were packed so he told me that I could only bring clean
clothes into the room. Most of the clothes were dirty anyway so I spent
the rest of Saturday afternoon washing, drying, folding, and hanging up
my clothes. I hated to do this, but Joe didn't give me a choice in the
matter. I did it with a fair amount of bitching.

After dinner that evening Joe told me the rules. He had one hell of a lot
of rules. I didn't like rules. My dad had rules, and those rules were the
cause of most of our problems. The difference here was that Joe laid out
the rules right at the start. With my dad I usually didn't know about the
rule until I broke it and was being beaten or belittled or both. I
couldn't smoke weed or have it in the house. I couldn't have anyone over.
I had to respect his home and his things. Even though I'd be paying for
the room while I was there I'd have chores to do and things to help with
around the house and yard. Since I didn't know the first thing about
cooking, he would teach me when he cooked. When he cooked I had to clean
up the kitchen. I had to do my own laundry on a regular basis -- at least
weekly. I had to shower daily and shave daily. He also didn't want to
hear any bitching about the rules or the work. There were other rules
too, but these were the ones I hated the most. I mean the shower thing
wasn't a problem. I showered daily, but I didn't see why I had to shave
every day. I'm blond so the facial hair doesn't show up like Joe's heavy
black whiskers do every afternoon.

I did my best to meet Joe's rules and demands even though they were
sometimes hard for me. Joe didn't sleep in on the weekends so I didn't
get to either. Every Saturday morning I spent on his riding mower cutting
the grass. His yard was fucking huge! Saturday afternoon I spent doing my
laundry from the week before and even had to change the bed and wash my
own towels. The rest of the day was spent cleaning my room and doing any
other chores with Joe. It isn't like he made me do all the work. While I
was doing my shit, he was doing his. We got along, but I hated the work
involved.

I guess when I met Tara I saw her as my ticket to an easier life. We
started to date about the sixth month I lived with Joe. She hated the
fact that I lived so far from the city. I began to not like it either
because it was a hassle hooking up with her. Towards the start of the
seventh month I started to spend the weekends with Tara at her apartment.
Staying there meant that I wasn't home to do my chores on Saturday. That
pissed Joe off. We argued about it one evening. He told me exactly what
he thought about what I was doing. Further he told me that he didn't
think that Tara was anything more than a slut. That pissed me off, but
I'm not really sure why. I mean I knew she was a slut. Shit, the first
time we had sex was in a dark parking lot with her bent over the hood of
her car. I guess I just didn't like hearing it from him. The whole thing
ended with me deciding to move out at the end of the seventh month. Joe
told me I was making a huge mistake, but as usual I didn't listen.

Life with Tara was great for about two weeks. We partied like animals on
the weekends -- drinking, smoking weed, and doing whatever the hell we
felt like doing. By the third week I was nearly out of clean clothes.
Tara did some laundry, but she never did do it all. It was about that
time that I found myself rummaging through the dirty clothes for the
least dirty things to wear. I was back on a diet of junk food and soda.
It wasn't even a month and I'd reverted back to my old ways. There were
times when I hated that fact, but catching a buzz caused those thoughts
to go away quickly. I'd been gone from Joe's for six weeks when I missed
work for the third time. It was my last unexcused absence so I got fired.
I was pissed at first and wanted to blame Joe for it, but I knew deep
inside that it was my fault I fucked that job up. I didn't get another
job for a few weeks. I'd saved some money with Joe's help so had a
cushion to fall back on while not working. The problem was that once I
started to take out money from the savings account, the money just seemed
to disappear. I used some for rent, but I don't know where the rest went.
I was back to working at McDonald's and selling weed when things with
Tara started to fall apart.

Tara came home one evening pissed and fucked up. She was looking for a
fight. I was playing a computer game and ignored her. That was my first
mistake. She hit me and kicked me several times before she slapped me
across the face. That hurt like hell and pissed me off. In the process of
trying to hold her down and calm her down I got kneed in the nuts and
kicked a few more times. We were yelling at each other so neither of us
heard the front door open. My first clue that we weren't alone in the
apartment was when the cop dragged me off Tara and cuffed my hands behind
my back. The other cop talked with Tara. The bitch gave this sob story
about the fight showing them bruises on her arms, legs, and neck where
she claimed I tried to choke her. When the cop asked if she was raped,
the bitch told them that I had rough sex with her but it wasn't rape.
They called an ambulance to take her to the hospital to make sure there
were not serious problems. Me they took to jail. I was only wearing a
pair of jeans and a torn pair of boxers when it all started so they
grabbed my shoes and hooded sweatshirt for me as they walked me to the
police car with all the fucking neighbors watching the scene.

I didn't get out of jail at the arraignment because of the previous
failure to appear problem so there I sat with a bunch of fucking hoodlums
and criminals. About the fifth day I got to see a public defender. He
showed me the evidence that would be presented at trial. There were three
witnesses to the verbal part of the fight -- the apartment walls were
paper thin. There were a dozen big color pictures of bruises that Tara
had after the altercation. Then there was a statement from the doctor
that described in detail what could only be considered rough sex. It was
at that point that I realized that the bitch had been banging some other
guy. I was pissed! The public defender told me that my best bet was to
take an Alfred plea if the judge would allow it. He explained what that
was and said I'd likely get a reduced sentence. I agreed to follow his
advice. What it got me was 60 days in jail.

Jail fucking sucked! I hated every second of it because it seemed that I
spent all my time watching my back and trying to stay off everyone's
radar. It's hard to hide when you're a blond white boy. There was lots of
shit said, but no one really tried anything. No one that is until near
the end of my time. I had two weeks left to serve when some prick thought
he could mess with me. There was a fight. We both were busted. We both
were sent to solitary for five days each.

Solitary was great the first day. I had a room to myself. I think I slept
all day... the first real sleep I got in that hell hole. The second day
was just plain boring with no one to talk with and not a damn thing to
do. The third day found me contemplating the fucking mess I'd made of my
life. I spent the rest of my time in solitary thinking about where I was
and what I planned to do next. I already knew that I couldn't go to
Tara's place without the police present because of the restraining order
that had been placed on me. I decided that I really didn't want to go
back there anyway. I started to list my options. It wasn't a long list.
What it finally came down to was begging Joe to let me stay there again.
Even that wasn't a good option. I didn't think he was likely to take me
back into his home. When I left he told me not to bother trying to come
back when I finally figured out I'd fucked up. I didn't want to admit
that he was right. I didn't want to admit that I'd fucked up again. The
sad fact was that I didn't have anywhere else to go. If Joe didn't take
me back, I'd be on the streets. I could swallow my pride and admit that
he was right and I was wrong, but I was sure that wouldn't be enough. I
remember Joe telling me once when I first worked on his crew that he
believed in giving everyone a chance.... one chance. What I did with that
chance was up to me. I blew that chance. I fucked up badly this time. I
just wasn't sure he'd give me another even if I begged. By the time my
days in solitary were over, I'd decided that I would get down on my knees
and beg Joe for a second chance. I decided I do anything he said no
matter what just to get that second chance.

Getting out of jail was a wonderful experience. I spent the afternoon
just wandering around the city looking at buildings, trees, flowers,
cars... all the things I'd missed while locked up. I knew that I never
wanted to relive that experience. I knew that I really needed to turn my
life around if I didn't want to go back. I needed to get serious, but I
just couldn't go crawling back to Joe... not just yet anyway. I called
someone I met in jail who offered a place to crash for a few days. It was
that place I left from as I hitched out to see Joe that Saturday morning.
It seemed the walk from the road was the longest I'd ever experienced. I
believed that my chance at a different life was behind that front door.
The problem was that I doubted I'd get the chance to enter and try again.

I rang the bell. When there wasn't an answer I rang it again and again. I
think it was nerves more than anything at that point. I was feeling
frazzled and scared and hopeful all at the same time. Joe pulled open the
door looking pretty pissed and said,

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I just thought I'd stop by to see an old friend."

"That's just pure bullshit, Tim. You've been gone for what... eight or
nine months now. I haven't heard a word from you in all that time so what
the hell do you really want?"

"Joe, I just thought it would be good to see you again. It's been a long
time. Aren't you gonna at least invite me in? I had to walk over a mile
from the highway just to get here. I could really use something cold to
drink. At least give me a soda or ice tea."

"Alright. Come in." he said as he stepped back to allow me to enter..

I followed Joe to the kitchen. He told me to have a seat as he opened the
fridge to get me a coke. He set the can in front of me as he poured
another glass of iced tea for himself. He sat opposite me at the kitchen
table and said,

"Okay... Tell me again why you're here, and this time try telling me the
truth. I've got more yard work to finish today and don't want to waste
the day bullshitting with you."

"Shit! Aren't you even a little glad to see me after all this time?"

"As I recall, you didn't exactly leave here on good terms. In fact I
seem to remember telling you at the time that if you left I didn't want
you to come back. Did you think I was just kidding when I told you
that?"

"Actually I figured you were just really pissed. I thought you'd get
over it by now."

"You thought wrong. I've got things to do so why don't you take that
soda with you as you head back to the highway."

"Damn, Joe... Can't we just talk for a while? I've missed talking with
you."

"Tim, you are so full of shit. You know the phone number here. If you
really wanted to talk that badly you could have called. If you missed me
that much you certainly would have come before now. So what do you want?
You didn't come all the way out here just to visit me. I know you better
than that. My guess is that you want money. I'll tell you up front not to
even ask cause I'm not giving you any money for any reason."

"Joe, I'm all fucked up. I came to ask you for help. If you have any
work you need done around the place, I'd gladly work for you. If you know
anyone who is looking for help, I'd appreciate it if you'd help me get a
job."

"I've helped you get two jobs already, and you fucked up both of them.
I'm not recommending you to anyone I know. I don't have anything around
here that you can do. So why are you all fucked up this time? What kind
of a mess are you in now? Are the police looking for you?"

"I.. I just got out of jail this week. I was in for sixty days. When I
got out the bitch I was living with moved. She took everything or tossed
my stuff. All I've got is what I'm wearing. I need a place to stay. I
need a job. I can't believe that fucking bitch..."

"Hate to say it Timmy, but I told you so. You were just to stupid to
listen. It serves you right. Maybe this time you'll learn. What were you
in jail for this time?"

"Domestic violence. I didn't even do anything but hold her down so she'd
stop hitting and kicking me. The neighbors called the cops, and I got
hauled away. She had bruises on her arms and a mark on her face. She
pressed charges. Since it was the second time I got locked up. I swear I
never hit her or anything. I don't know what the fuck she was so pissed
about. She was just trippin'."

"I don't have the desire to try to make a decent man out of you. I spent
the six months you lived here trying to teach you things you needed to
know, but you just didn't listen. I don't need a roommate. I certainly
don't need a fucked up roommate. Tim, you're a loser plain and simple.
You don't care about anything more than weed, booze, and bimbos. I don't
need that in my life."

"I'm not a loser! I can change. I don't have to smoke weed or drink. I'm
not an addict. I can get my shit together, but I need a little help to do
that. That's why I came to see you. You're the only one who can help me
do that."

"You had about $700.00 in the bank when you left here. Where did that
money go?"

"Some went to pay rent when I lost my job. I bought that bitch a
birthday present with some of it. I don't know where the rest went."

"That just says loser to me, Tim. How many times have you been in this
same situation? This is the same place you were at when you first came
here. What makes you think you'll change this time?"

"Stop calling me a loser." I said with tears in my eyes. "I'm not a
fucking loser!"

"What would you call someone who at 22 doesn't have anything more than
the ratty jeans, dirty hooded sweatshirt, and old tennis shoes he's
wearing? What would you call a guy who hasn't managed to keep a job for
more than six months? What would you call a guy who is homeless and has
no prospects for a place to live? What would you call a guy who probably
hasn't even got a dime in his pocket and is depending on the kindness of
others for his next meal? I call that guy a loser, and that guy is you
Tim."

"I'm just down on my luck is all. Lots of people have hard times. That
doesn't mean that I'm a loser."

"Before you left here you had some money in the bank and a job. I don't
even have to ask what happened to the job. I know right now that you were
up all night partying -- smoking weed and drinking and who knows what
else -- and just didn't get up for work in the morning. Have you ever had
a job you left on good terms? I know the answer is no so don't even try
telling me different. You fuck up everything that comes your way -- every
job, every opportunity to get your shit together, every relationship with
people who try to help, everything. That spells loser."

"Fuck you!" I blurted out before I put my head in my hands and cried. I
tried to muffle the sobs, but it was obvious that I was feeling bad about
myself and my situation. As the crying subsided, I looked up and said,

"Alright... I'm a fucking loser. Does that make you happy?"

"No it doesn't, Tim. When I let you stay here I did it because I thought
you had some promise. I thought with some direction and guidance you
could change your situation. At the time I thought that was really what
you wanted, but you proved me wrong. You had the promise, but you didn't
have the desire to change. You ran off at the first opportunity despite
me telling you that it was a mistake. Look where it got you. You're worse
off now than you were then. Now you have absolutely nothing but the
clothes on your back and no prospects for a better life. I'd be very
surprised if you could even get a minimum wage at McDonald's."

"I know, Joe. I know... Please help me. I know I'm a fuck up, but I want
to change. I'm tired of living like this. I spent two months in jail
doing nothing but thinking about my situation. I wanted to call you from
there, but I knew you probably wouldn't take the collect call so I didn't
even try. Do you know how hard it was to come here today? I knew you'd
say all this shit to me. It hurts to hear it. It isn't like I don't know
I'm a fuck up, but it hurts to hear it from you."

"I'm not gonna blow smoke up you ass and tell you everything is gonna be
fine cause that just ain't likely to happen. Hell, you don't even have
the money to buy a lottery ticket. How the hell are you gonna straighten
out the mess you're in? I don't think you can, and I don't think you'll
listen to me when I tell you what you need to do. You didn't listen the
last time."

"I did listen, Joe. I was doin' pretty good too until I met that bitch.
I should have listened to you then too, but I was thinkin' with my dick I
guess. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. If you let me stay here I swear
I'll listen this time and do exactly what you tell me."

"Why don't you talk to your family... ask them to help you out. It isn't
my job to fix your mess. I tired once. That was enough for me. I feel
like I wasted all that time and energy and effort. I've got better things
to do with my time."

"My family doesn't give a shit. I called my mom from jail. She said it
was good that I was there. Fuck that! I didn't need to be in jail for two
months to know I didn't want to be there. My asshole brother doesn't give
a shit. I called him when I got out to see if I could stay there, and he
told me not to call him. My sister doesn't even want me to come to her
house because she doesn't want me around her kids. No one fucking cares.
I hoped you would."

"You've burned too many bridges in the past. That just isn't a good
thing to do, and now you know why. You're going to have to learn that the
world doesn't revolve around you. You have to realize that the world and
the people in it don't own you a damn thing. You need to understand that
you've got to earn what you get and that includes respect and
forgiveness. How many times did you rip your mom off before she wouldn't
let you back in her house? You wrecked your brother's car when you took
it without his permission. How would you expect him to react to you? I
don't know what the hell happened between you and your sister, but I'd
bet money that you probably did something to her that caused her to not
want you around."

"Yeah, I know it's my fault that my family doesn't want me around. I've
been fucked up since my dad killed himself. You'd think they'd cut me
some slack. They knew how hard it was for me."

"You use that excuse as a reason for your bad behavior and fuck ups.
That excuse might have worked for a year or two, but that happened nearly
five years ago. You went to a therapist to work out those issues. If you
didn't take her help, it's your fault not your mom, brother, or sister.
You need to stop making excuses for your behavior and take some
responsibility for your situation. Nothing will change until you own up
to the fact that all of this is your fault and no one else shares the
blame."

"Finding my dad dead in his car really fucked me up, man. You don't even
know..."

"You're right, I don't know. What I do know though is that you can't
keep using that as a crutch the rest of your life. Look where it's gotten
you so far? You're dad killed himself. So it wasn't pleasant. It hurt you
on many levels. Move on. Get over it."

I cried some more as we sat at the table. After several minutes I looked
up, wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand and said,

"Please let me stay with you, Joe. I swear I'll listen to everything you
say. I swear I'll do whatever you say. I'll do anything you say...
anything. Just please give me one more chance. Fuck man, I'm begging you
to please help me. You're the only one I've got to turn to. I'm tired of
living like I have been. I don't want to be in situations where I end up
in jail. I don't want to be homeless. I don't want to beg for money for
food. I don't want to be on the streets. I don't want to steal. I don't
want to sell weed or drugs. I swear to you that I won't smoke weed again.
You can even do urine tests on me if you don't believe me. I'll do
whatever you say. Just please, Joe, give me another chance."

"Tim... if I did give you another chance there would be a long list of
rules you'd have to follow. If you didn't follow the rules, you'd be
punished. If you thought getting a spanking from your old man was rough,
you haven't experienced a whipping from me. You act like a spoiled brat.
That won't cut it with me. I'll beat your ass until you can't sit for a
week."

"If that is what it takes to get to stay here, fine. I'm not some little
kid, but if that is what you want... fine."

"That is only the start."

"What else do you want?"

"First of all we are going to get you into better physical shape. You're
6'2" and weigh probably 160 if that? You are going to spend a part of
each day working to improve your physical condition. There will be a
combination of physical labor, weight training, and running to get you in
shape and build some muscle and strength. Second, you will get a job. You
will show up for work every damn day no matter what. You will be on time
and you will give the job a 100% effort each and every day. If you don't,
you will be punished. Third, there will be no more of your punk
rocker/skater boy look. You will wear the clothes that I pick out for
you. No more baggy pants, gang wanna be outfits, or ratty clothes. Forth,
you will have household chores to accomplish each day. I will teach you
what to do, and you will do it from there. Failure will get you punished.
Fifth, when I tell you to do something you will do it immediately. If you
whine or bitch and moan about it, if you procrastinate or do a poor job,
you will be punished. Sixth, any money you make will be turned over to me
each payday. Together we will pay your bills including rent, utilities,
and food. Any personal items you need will be budgeted for by the two of
us. Other items will have to be approved before any money is spent.
Seventh, you won't be hanging out or seeing your old friends. You need to
make new friends who don't smoke weed and aren't losers. Eighth, I'm
gonna fuck your ass. My fee for all of this is your ass or mouth whenever
I want it. If I say suck my dick, you best be on your knees and getting
my dick out of my pants within a minute. If I tell you I'm gonna fuck up,
you only need to drop your drawers and ask what position."

"I'll do all of that, but I don't want to get fucked. I'll do everything
but that. I'll suck your dick whenever you want, but I don't want to get
fucked. I ain't queer."

"It's an all or nothing deal, Tim. It isn't negotiable."

"Aww.. come on, man. Be reasonable. I don't wanna get fucked. I ain't
into that."

"I didn't ask if you were into it or not. I think I'm being completely
reasonable. If you really want to change then you'll go for the whole
package regardless of what is required. If you refuse any part of the
deal, I'll know you aren't really serious about changing."

"I am serious, but I don't want to do that. Please don't make me do
that."

"I'm not making you do anything. It's your choice. Take the deal or
leave it. It doesn't really matter to me."

"Damn you, Joe. Isn't there something else I could do instead of that?"

"No there really isn't. You think about it while I take a leak."

Joe left the table for the bathroom. He gave me about five minutes alone
to think over the proposition. I hated what he was asking me to do. It
was about the worst thing I could think of. He'd tried to get me to
bottom for him when I stayed with him before, but I never would. The
first time I sucked Joe's dick was to get him to buy an XBOX system and
two games. He bought one for his nephew. I really wanted one so he told
me that he wanted a blow job. I asked him if I'd get the system and games
if I did that. He told me he would if it was a good blow job. It was a
good blow job. He bought the system. From that day on he got me to
service him about once each week. I didn't mind all that much though I
did whine about it on most occasions. I'm not really sure what I expected
the first time, but it really wasn't all that bad. Joe had a big thick
dick, but it was clean. I didn't plan to take his load in my mouth that
first time -- and even told him that. What I wanted didn't really matter
to Joe. He let me suck and slurp on his dick for about 15 minutes before
he took over and started to fuck my face. He wasn't excessively rough,
but I did think I was gonna choke on that monster dick of his when he
started to force it down my throat. Somehow he got that damn thing in my
throat and kept deep dicking me until he was close. When he shot his dick
was in my throat. I could feel his cum shooting down into my gut. He
eased up his hold on my head which allowed me to pull back some. At that
point he finished cumming in my mouth. I didn't even think about it at
the time. I just swallowed. I really didn't want to get fucked. It was
like taking away what little manhood I had left. If I didn't let him do
it I knew I wouldn't be staying. I argued with myself while he was in the
bathroom still not knowing for sure what to do.

When Joe sat back down at the table across from me, my head was resting
on his arms on the table. I didn't say anything until I looked up at him
with a tear streaked face. I wiped the tears away with the back of my
hand and said,

"Fine. You win. I want this chance enough that I'll give it up. I swear
I'll do what you want when you want. I'll listen to you and do as you
tell me."

"Damn... I was sure you'd be out the door by now. I can't believe you're
really gonna do it."

"What choice do I have? It isn't what I want to do, but I understand why
you're doing it. I probably wouldn't believe me either. I've lied to a
lot of people and conned plenty over the years. It's what I gotta do.
Besides... I trust you, and I respect you. I know I haven't always acted
like I do, but I do. You've done more for me than anyone -- even my
family. I know I can't do this alone, and you're the only one I'll listen
to. I also know you will follow through on the punishment. I don't get
why you have to do that though."

"You won't get punished if you do what you're told and always do your
best. You need to know that less than your best isn't good enough. The
punishment will help you remember that the next time you're tempted to
slack off."

"So now what?"

"First of all you need to go to the laundry room and strip off. Leave
the dirty clothes you're wearing in there and we'll clean them later.
Then you need a shower. When you've cleaned up, shaved, and brushed your
teeth, I'll have something for you to eat. Once you've eaten we'll start.
Oh, and no jacking off in the shower or anywhere else for that matter."

"Aww... come on man... it's been a hella long time since I got off."

"You're whining already. You're supposed to do what I say without
question. That's the deal."

"Sorry... I wasn't whining though. I was just asking."

"It sounded like whining to me. Now go take your shower and follow my
instructions before I change my mind about all of this.

"Sure... Thanks Joe! You won't regret this." I said as I headed to the
laundry room.

I came back into the kitchen a few minutes later completely naked. He'd
seen me like this before so it wasn't a shock or surprise for either of
us, but Joe was amazed that I looked even skinnier than before. I'd lost
some weight since I last saw him. He took me to the bathroom in his
bedroom to shower and shave. He got out a fresh razor and the shaving
cream for me as well as a new toothbrush. He told me to clean good
because there'd be an inspection when I was finished. As he turned to
leave the bathroom I said,

"Yes sir."

Joe put together a couple of sandwiches while I showered. By the time I
came into the kitchen with the towel wrapped around my waist he had
dished up some macaroni salad and fresh fruit to go with the sandwiches
and poured a large glass of milk. As Joe stood behind the chair he said,

"Are you ready for your inspection?"

Joe tugged the towel from my waist. I didn't flinch as he took my chin in
his hand and turned my face from side to side. He checked my ears and
then grabbed my dick. I wasn't circumcised so he retracted my foreskin
and ran his finger behind the head of my dick. I didn't try to pull away
or argue. I'm sure Joe was surprised. He walked behind me and told him to
bend over. I did immediately. I sucked in a deep breath when he took a
cheek in each hand and spread them open. Before he let me have my food he
ran his finger from behind my balls to the top of my crack. My whole body
shuddered as his finger ran over my hole, but I didn't say a word. When
Joe was finished with the inspection he told me to sit down and eat my
lunch. I sat at the table naked and ate like I hadn't had a decent meal
in weeks -- it had actually been since I moved out. Joe was a great cook.
I always could eat.

When I finished I took my dishes to the sink and rinsed them before
placing them in the dishwasher. I wiped up the table and asked,

"What's next?"

"I think I'd like to fuck your ass."

"I figured you'd want that before you let me eat. Thanks for lunch by
the way. It was great!"

"You're welcome."

"So where do you want to do this?

"You aren't gonna whine and cry about it?"

"No. I told you I'd do it whenever you wanted. It's part of the deal.
I'm keeping my word to you. I don't like the idea, but it's not the worst
thing that could happen to me. I've been living the worst thing that
could happen to me the last few months. Besides, I trust you. I know you
aren't gonna hurt me. I mean I expect it's gonna hurt some, but I know
you aren't gonna hurt me just because you can."

"Lets do it on the bed in my room."

"Okay... lead the way."

We walked down the hallway to the bedroom. I'm sure Joe was expecting me
to wimp out on the deal, but I followed him into the room and asked,

"How do we do this? I haven't done this before so I don't exactly know
what I'm supposed to do."

Joe directed me to lay on my back. He got a towel and lube from the
bathroom and placed them on the nightstand. He had me pull my knees to my
chest while he applied lube to my tightly puckered opening. As Joe moved
his finger around the hole getting it all slick he told me to relax. I
closed my eyes and let out a long breath as he worked one finger inside.
It wasn't too long before I had two fingers stretching my hole. The third
finger caused me to take a deep breath, but I soon relaxed again as his
three fingers twisted around inside stretching me for what was to come. I
watched as Joe stripped down. He had an excellent body for a man at any
age. He was solid muscle. I'd forgotten how big is dick was. I was so
close to running when I saw that monster pointing out in front of him as
he climbed onto the bed between my legs.

Joe coated his dick with lube and grabbed my thighs, pressing them
further back and down towards my chest, as he positioned his dick at the
opening. He told me to relax and push out as I felt him pushing in. I
didn't open my eyes, but I did nod my head in understanding. Joe applied
gentle pressure against my hole, and I pushed out. His dick slipped
inside. I gasped and sucked in air. As I expelled it I said,

"Oh man, Joe... it hurts. Oh, fuck... it hurts..."

"Relax Tim. It's bound to hurt a little until you get use to it. The
pain will stop when your muscles adjust to the stretching."

"Fuck... I don't think I'll ever get use to this. Promise it will stop
hurting soon."

"I promise... just relax and breathe. Once the pain stops you're gonna
like it."

"Ain't no way I'm liking this..."

After a few minutes the tightness in my ass muscles relaxed. Joe was able
to ease more of my dick inside. I didn't seem to be nearly as stressed as
he sank all of his thick nine inch dick inside. Joe did give me a bit of
time to adjust to the full feeling he knew I was experiencing before he
started to move his hips around just to let me get the full sensation of
having a dick deep inside. I didn't say anything as I kept my eyes closed
and endured this first experience. Joe pulled out most of the way and
then eased it all back in. It felt like he was splitting me wide open. I
was sure my asshole would never close again. It hurt so fucking bad at
first, but the intense pain did ease up. After a short while it didn't
feel bad though it was a damn long way from feeling good.

I kept my eyes closed and tried to think about anything other than what
was happening. That was nearly impossible especially with Joe doing his
sex talk routine. I'd been listening for a while before I realized he was
sayin' the same shit to me that I'd probably be tellin' some bitch. At
least he was enjoying this. All I had to do was get through it. Joe had
been very slow and gentle. I'd overheard him with a few other partners
when I stayed with him before. The sex Joe had with them seemed to be
anything but slow and gentle. There were a few occasions when I heard a
guy beg him to stop, but I don't think Joe ever did until he busted his
nut. We never talked about it, but I just assumed that Joe liked rough
sex. He was such a strong, masculine man -- always the boss... always in
control... always on top in every situation. I was expecting and fearing
that Joe would start to be rough with me, but that never happened. He
really was gentle -- as concerned about my comfort this first time as he
was about his own needs.

I don't know how long Joe had been plowing away at my ass when I noticed
that I was seeing stars and my body was tingling. His dick was poking and
rubbing along some spot in my ass that was making me hot and horny. Each
time he eased his big dick inside, he would jab at that spot then the
length of his shaft would slide along it driving me nuts. I was off in my
own little world enjoying the sensation. Enjoying the sensation? My eyes
flew open at that realization that I was enjoying this. The muscles had
relaxed enough that Joe's movements in and out of me weren't painful. The
problem was that I was finding them pleasurable... so pleasurable that my
dick was hard and throbbing away as it rested on my stomach. Fuck! This
wasn't supposed to be happening. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the hell is wrong
with me? I'm a fucking man and this shit ain't supposed to be even a
little bit fun... but it is. It's feeling damn good!

Every time Joe pumped that thick dick inside me I was moaning. My body
was liking this. Without even thinking about it my ass was raising up to
meet his thrusts. I could feel my sphincter muscles gripping his dick in
an attempt to hold it inside. The worst part is that my damn dick was so
hard it hurt. Joe could see that I was liking this... My dick was leaking
all over my stomach and twitching away all on it's own. My body was
tingling. My nuts were ready to unload. I was sweating and panting and
groaning in pleasure. I was beyond trying to exercise any form of control
over my body. I was just along for the ride. My body was responding to
the pure physical stimulation. I was lost to the sensations Joe was
hammering into my body. Suddenly I could tell that I was getting close. I
couldn't believe that I was gonna cum without touching my dick. Joe was
talking dirty to me making it all even worse. He was telling me how hot
my throbbing dick looked. He was telling me that he was gonna fuck the
cum out of my nuts. He leaned down closer to me. I felt the taught
muscles of his stomach rubbing over my dick as he nibbled on my earlobe.
That was all it took. My dick was twitching wildly as I felt the fire in
my nuts reach the point of exploding. The damn thing went off like a
rocket! My dick was spraying cum like never before. I don't know how many
times I shot, but it seemed to go on forever. My dick was just standing
up on it's own and spraying wildly.

My whole body was drained, but Joe wasn't finished yet. He picked up his
pace and was pounding my ass with a fury of rapid strokes. I was holding
on to him with both arms wrapped around his neck. His powerful thrusts
were moving me further up the bed. When he slammed in hard I could feel
the top of my head banging into the headboard of his bed. The sounds of
our naked bodies slapping together was so hot it kept me hard despite
just having the biggest climax of my life. In the past I always went soft
right after I shot my load, but not this time. If my balls didn't ache
from dumping out so much cum, I'm sure I'd have shot another load. Joe's
rhythm became more erratic as he pistoned away. I knew he had to be
close. My hole seemed to be stretched even more as his dick swelled
inside me. With a loud grunt and moaning, he emptied his balls inside me.
He was still pumping away. I felt even fuller than before as he buried
his face at my neck and gasped for breath. All I could think was 'Wow'.
On some level I felt like I had a lot to think about, but my brain was
frazzled and too clouded to care. All I wanted to do was sleep.

Joe stayed hard inside me for a little longer shifting his hips and
occasionally thrusting inside me just to let me know he was still there.
I have no doubt in my mind that he could have done it all again, but I
was sure that I couldn't. I was beat. I needed to recoup my strength. He
eventually slid out of me. When he did he grabbed the towel and mopped up
the cum from my chest and stomach then proceeded to clean up himself. He
cleaned off his dick then wiped the excess lube and cum from my ass. He
leaned down when he was finished and whispered,

"Sleep baby... sleep." Then he pulled the comforter over me and kissed
my cheek.

I was asleep before he left the room.



And that brings me to the end of Part I.

Thank you for reading my story. I hope you've enjoyed yourself. As
always, I would sincerely appreciate hearing your comments, suggestions,
and constructive criticism. You can reach me at: dselliot28@yahoo.com.

If you did like this story and haven't read any of the others I've posted
at Nifty, I would sincerely appreciate it if you'd check out the others.
You can find a complete list by going to the 'Authors' section and
scrolling down to my name: ds elliot.

Thanks!


Thanks for reading my submissions!

Peace and Love.

ds elliot