The pristine black leather of Richard's Aston Martin was warm as I climbed into the passenger seat and chucked my rucksack behind.
`What a cock magnet,' I said, pulling on my seatbelt and relaxing into the soothing heat caressing my arse, thighs and balls from below.
Closing the driver's door before messing with his already immaculate salt-and-pepper hair in the rear-view mirror, he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Said, `Sorry handsome, did you say something?'
`This car. Total cock magnet.'
`Even the seat's still warm.'
`So maybe I'm not the first lucky boy to go for a ride with daddy today. Kick him out before you spotted me, did you?'
Chuckling he reached out a thick index finger and fired the car's start button. The engine purred awake, smooth and expensive but, regardless how little I knew about cars, undoubtedly powerful. I could feel it through my body. In my muscles and bones like I was strapped to a designer catapult, primed to fling me over the horizon.
Then he said, `Seat warmers, my boy.'
Expertly turning the wheel with the flat of his right hand, he placed his left arm behind my backrest and reversed us out of the street-side parking space. As the smell of his body, clean, sweet and sexy, sparked memories of our night and day together, in one swift movement we were on the road. Then, the black-grey, Sunday tarmac empty in front of us, we were flying onwards, naught to sixty in the blink of an eye as blood rushed south even faster.
`If you want,' he said, the street flitting quietly behind his profile through expensive glass. `We could always get one.'
`You know what.'
`Yeah,' he said without looking at me; his eyes on the road; his lips pulled into a devious smirk.
`Like an escort?' I said.
`No, no. Just a lad I have in mind. Haven't seen him in a while but, damn, the two of you together, now that'll draw a crowd.'
`He's your age. Blonde, toned, twinky.'
My age? Blonde? Twinky? Oh fuck. No way. It can't be.
`What's his name?' I said, my stomach bunching fast and tight like he'd reached into my gut and squeezed.
Breathing out a silent sigh of relief, I smiled wide.
That was close. Literally two letters away from being a class-ten shit storm.
`I'm not enough for you?' I said, reaching out and running my hand up Richard's leg, curling my fingers under his inner thigh until my little finger pressed against his bulge.
`Of course you are!' he said, this time looking at me with his gorgeously brown eyes and warm smile. `I don't even have to call my friends, I just thought.'
`I'm messing with you,' I said. `Tell me more about Henry.'
Letting out a growl and shuffling in his seat, his crotch pushing against my hand, he said, `Apart from a hole tight enough to cut your blood supply, I don't really know him. We've met a few times. At The Cellar mainly. He's more Jason's friend.'
`My doctor mate I told you about yesterday.'
`The one with the fat cock?'
He laughed. Said, `I was going to say the one who gave us PEP, but sure, that one.'
Shrugging I said, `Tell me more about him.'
Don't get me wrong, if it wasn't Harry, I was all for bringing another lad into the mix. At some point.
Unlike The Cellar on a Sunday, teaming with all kinds of adonises vying for clandestine attention, at Daddy Dick's I would be in control of the situation. So as long as whoever we picked up understood I was the main event, and they were simply a one-time extra, I was open to anything.
Sometimes there's nothing quite like an angelic face wincing and moaning and turning redder and redder as your legs are held open and two more pairs of strong hands hungrily busy themselves in ways that make your eyes water like the boy's inches from your own.
But it was too soon in mine and Richard's relationship. If I wanted to wrap my new daddy around my finger like a strawberry lace, sucking on his sweetest whenever I wished, I knew I had to follow a very specific plan. A plan that had been forming ever since he'd suggested we go back to his.
A simple plan, but for its simplicity, it was crucial: I had no choice but to make the best first impression I could.
Stand fresh and ready in Richard's apartment, the biggest smile plastered from ear to ear, eager and ravenous for the arrivals. But with no distractions from me. No other boys to divert attentions from new meat.
With all eyes primed I would be free to blow minds as well as cocks. Charm and seduce and capitalise on the situation before cementing my position in the party so, no matter what pretty, young thing joined in the future, from then on, I would always be the alpha showing the beta bottoms how it's done.
The one they call first. Never second.
And, honestly, I wasn't an exclusive bottom. I was versatile.
Lying back and being gang fucked by Richard and his mates was a wonderful treat, truly, but my tastes varied. I knew, that if this group had the potential I was hoping for – comprised of successful, powerful men whose power and success equated to potential future contacts willing to share knowledge or point a knowing finger toward opportunity – one day I would want to be a part of the grunting crowd. Be among the boys. Brother to brother, arm-in-arm, circling and restraining and sweating.
But, if I wanted to ensure prolonged benefit, long after today, tomorrow and many more days after using my nineteen-year-old hole, I would need to create a hierarchy immediately. Place myself as the number one, go-to boy by blissfully searing memories in their minds and teaching techniques they'll take forever.
It's hard to stand out in a crowd, especially with the prospect of being easily replaced by a tighter, younger specimen constantly looming. Like Henry, whoever the hell he is.
So, as Richard glided in and out of the lazy trickle of weekend traffic on the five-minute drive back to his high-rise apartment, I pushed Henry out of the picture. Forced Richard to focus on the task at hand by getting him to divulge the details of who he was hoping would share my body with him.
Funny thing was, I didn't even listen. Didn't need to at this stage. It's far better to meet people in person and ask questions yourself so you don't have to fake surprise or interest. And, with each name from Richard's mouth, came all the right words.
Tall, handsome, big, strong, toned, older, hung. Stamina, strength, power and pace. Adjectives that fuelled my engines and ignited my pistons and flooded my body with delicious anticipation regardless of who he was describing.
Names floating in and out of my head. Jason, Steve, Michael, Rob, Nelson, Laurie. Each one a tantalising surprise.
Even when the sunlight streaming through the wide sunroof snuffed into blackness, the sporadically lit, concrete roof of his underground parking lot appeared overhead, and he parked up, opened his boot and lifted out two plastic bags of shopping, I still hadn't tuned back in.
As he prattled on about who was who and how he knew them, I nodded and made convincing noises at the right times, but I was too preoccupied by all sorts of steamy images and ideas sparking and sizzling and flashing like fireworks behind my eyes. Some huge and dazzling and bright and colourful. Others slow burners, fogging up my mind, golden and bright.
It wasn't until we were back in Richard's stunning, open-plan apartment and he was busying himself with shopping, pulling open gleaming, gloss-finished cupboards and stainless-steel fridge doors, did I have to tear myself away from day dreams.
Shaking my head, I said, `Sorry, what did you say?'
`I said do you want to shower now? Or are you hungry?'
He smirked. Said, `Food.'
`No. I need an empty stomach.'
Growling like he'd done in the car, low and deep, he put the bottle of Bollinger in his hands inside the top drawer of his freezer, closed the door with his foot and walked over to me. Wrapping his hands around my waist he pulled me in for a kiss.
Fifteen or so seconds later he said, `You are the best boy I've had in a long, long time.'
`What makes you say that?'
`You're so thoughtful,' he said, reaching down, cupping my bulge and squeezing my growing cock.
`I try,' I said, relishing the pulse of pleasure before pushing myself out of his arms and lifting myself up and onto the counter to perch on the gleaming marble worktop; the chill of stone through my thin jeans sending delightful shivers up my spine.
`Mmm, I can't wait to see what the boys think of you,' he said, his hands back around my waist but my legs wrapped around his.
`They all coming?'
`Probably not at such short notice, but I've had three replies so far. Rob and Nelson are confirmed, and should be getting here in twenty or so minutes. Laurie can't make it. He has his god-daughter's Christening.'
`Yeah, can you imagine standing in a dreary church while your mates take it in turns to plough a cock-hungry twink? We'll have to take some photos for him.'
`Plough me? What am I, a field?'
Chuckling he kissed my neck and stroked my flanks. Up and down, tracing the ridges of my muscles with his fingers as he went. Then he whispered in my ear, `Yeah. Especially if you take my seed again.'
Biting my bottom lip as my hole clenched in ecstatic reminiscence of his load streaming inside of me, my arms and legs tied to his bed, I moaned long and deep, grasping his bulging shoulders and pulling him close.
`I don't think I can wait for them to get here,' he said, his hands still running up and down my body; his lips soft but ravenous; his breath hot and heavy.
`I need to shower,' I said but linking my feet behind him and squeezing him tighter all the same.
`Just a little longer,' he said, one hand smoothing over my t-shirt and up my chest, the other squeezing my thigh.
`Ok,' I said, my head hanging backwards as his thick fingers wrapped around my throat.
`We'll start by stretching this open,' he said, his grip still on my neck but his thumb stroking the smooth, white skin over my Adam's apple. `I know how hard you can take it.'
I nodded in his grip and said nothing, as quiet moans dripped from my lips and my cock reached its full size, running across my leg and pushing up a long, thick mound of black denim.
`I want you on your knees over there on the rug. Your hands tied behind your back. Mouth open. I might even blindfold you, so you don't know which one of us is using your mouth.'
`That would be phenomenal,' I said.
`Hmm, but then again,' he said, wrenching my head to the side with a flick of his wrist. `Maybe you should watch. Especially with those big blues. Wide open and watering.'
My neck muscles straining a pain that rippled through me and transformed to pleasure by the time it had reached my balls, I locked my stare on him and opened my mouth. Ever-so-slightly stuck out my tongue.
Letting go of my throat he ran a fingertip up over my chin and around my lips. Then pushing my jaw wider, he forced three fingers down. Down over my tongue.
`Good boy,' he said, his tips pushing rough and rigid into the back of my throat as his eyes widened in excitement. `Very good. But I want to hear you gag.'
Grabbing him by the arm I pulled him deeper inside of me until my body had no choice but to convulse and splutter. Then pulling out, his fingers gleaming in the afternoon sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling glass spanning a full length of his apartment, he held them out for me to suck clean.
I did. Then, wiping away a single tear that had ran down my cheek, I said, `What else are you going to do to me?'
`Fuck you until you can't walk.'
He slapped me. Slow but hard across the face, so a clap rang out through the apartment and heat prickled over my cheek.
`Who do you think, boy?'
Reaching round and grabbing me by the scruff of the neck he shook me. Then, his eyes piercing into mine, he smiled devilishly. Letting go he smoothed the hair at the back of my head.
`You better go wash up. We'll have company soon,' he said, putting his hands under my armpits, stepping back and simultaneously lifting me up and onto my feet.
`Of course, Daddy,' I said as he reached round and grabbed my arse, wide and tight; his fingers pushing my jeans up and into my crack.
`Use my en-suite. In the top drawer of the cabinet you'll find what you need. It's in a black leather washbag.'
Nodding, I thanked him and made my way past the dining table, through the living room, over the plush rug of his bedroom and into his en-suite bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, fully flushed through and stepping under the pouring torrent of his oversized showerhead, I heard the faint buzz of the intercom. Over the course of washing myself it rang out three more times.
When I'd towel-dried my hair, I could hear the low tones of men talking from the other room. Glasses clinking. Inaudible words morphing into a rumble that made my cock swell and my heart beat hard as steam danced around me, ethereal in the crisp downlighting.
Picking up my underwear I went to put them on but stopped. Looked at myself in a small patch of unmisted mirror. At my pecs and shoulders and arms. Ran a hand over the ridges of my six-pack. Down further until I was holding myself hot and thick and hard.
Thirty seconds later I was back in the living room with nothing but a small white towel around my waist. Richard was the first to notice. He looked up from his perch at the end of the dining table and smiled wide.
A second later the chatting voices stopped silent: the fizz of five freshly poured champagnes the only sounds effervescing through the apartment. Ten new eyes on me and only me as my towel hit the floor.
The first in my Australian series of erotic tales, Oscar Down Under: Part One, is out now. Find it on Amazon US here, Amazon UK here and Amazon Australia here. Or simply search for `Jack Ladd' on the Amazon homepage. Also available on iBooks, Barnes & Noble and more.
Want a FREE book? Download my prequel novel, Oscar, for absolutely nothing here.
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Copyright Jack Ladd 2018
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