Previously: It's Saturday afternoon. JT and Sam are sharing an intimate moment.
JT slowly leaned over until our lips brushed against each other. And he began to kiss me.
I had little experience with kissing. Some gay guys do not kiss. In my experience over the decades and years, the best lovers do engage in a lot of kissing. But not everyone likes it, and not everyone does it the same way. I like it aggressive and sloppy and on the rough side, if I have a partner who shares my proclivities. But I've learned to be versatile about my expectations.
JT kissed me pretty gently. He would eventually train me to understand and comply with his own kissing preferences. With JT, there was basically a "top" and a "bottom." One person was actively sucking, tonguing, and penetrating. The other person needed to keep their mouth relaxed, loose, and open. Normally, JT wanted me to be the recipient of his kissing, but occasionally he wanted me to be the top kisser. When you are JT's sub, you quickly learn that the Dominant is not always the top, and the submissive is not always the bottom. More often than not, the sub is the bottom. But a sub can be the top and still remain in a state of submission, at least in JT's world.
JT was using his tongue, probing and tasting my mouth. And I was doing the same with him. I had savored every inch of his body, including nasty parts that other people would not consider, like his feet, his armpits, and his asshole. I loved the nasty parts most of all because those parts proved his physical excellence. Every inch of him was manly and delicious and appetizing. Every inch.
Several of us in the Hot Shots were brass musicians—JT, Jim, Wayne, Mark, and myself. It's a common misunderstanding that we "blow" our horns. But the sound of our horns is made with our lips. We blow through our lips, creating a buzz. It's all in the lips. JT and Jim were highly talented trumpeters—they must have had extraordinary lip control. And the scrumptiously attractive Mark—aka "Dimples" — played the most difficult horn of all, the French Horn. His lips must have possessed divine qualities. Anyway, their lips literally made music. Their lips literally created beauty. So to touch those lips with my own was indeed an honor. Like I said, every inch of JT was pure virility. Every inch.
I was laying on my back, and Jim was propped up on one elbow. I tilted my head toward him, and he leaned down upon me while we kissed. With his free hand he slowly began stroking my cock. I was beyond horny. I had not come since the previous evening. I had taken two loads from JT since then, one in my mouth and one in my ass. I had taken two loads in the ass from Jeff. I had experienced all of the sensations of my first enema. I had been overstimulated for hours, and it would not take long for me to shoot my load.
I began to pant and moan as my body surged toward orgasm. JT lifted his mouth off of mine and said, "Give it up, boy. Give it up for your Master." Before I could say anything, his mouth covered mine again. After commanding me to give it up, JT did two things simultaneously. He relaxed his grip on my cock and he pressed his mouth hard against mine. The firm stroking motion on the shaft of my cock instantaneously became like feathers grazing and teasing. It was as though JT had withdrawn his touch. My pelvis involuntarily bucked upward as my cock desperately chased for the firm grip that had suddenly disappeared.
JT's stroking continued, but it was so delicate that I felt my orgasm more than his grip. It was intense. It was acute pleasure. I felt each pulse of my fluid going up from the root of my cock and out the tip. There were five big pulses, followed by some smaller ones.
Meanwhile, JT forcefully devoured my mouth, thrusting his tongue aggressively around my lips and gums, slopping saliva onto my chin and cheeks.
The effect was staggering. The rough kissing established a vigorous physical domination. The feather stroking triggered a crazed orgasm. The intensity of my ejaculation caused me to shriek loudly, but JT's powerful mouth muffled the sound.
After the last drop had oozed out of me, the grip of JT's mouth released me. I was panting and making soft whimpering noises. JT was serene and smiling. It had been a few minutes of effortless fun for him, but a NASA space rocket blastoff for me.
"The beauty of discipline," JT finally spoke. "A submissive boy will experience incredible orgasms. When you turn control over to your Sir, you liberate your body.
"Your body normally functions under your control," JT continued. "Your mind, your will, your ego. But when a Sir takes charge of your mind and will and ego, your body is unrestrained. Your body experiences pleasure and ecstasy without any inhibitions or restraints. It's the gift of discipline. The more deeply you submit, the more intense your feelings and sensations become."
As usual, JT seemed wise and his words made sense. He had a great deal more to teach me, and I had a lot more training ahead of me, although in that moment I had no idea how much more.
JT used his hand to scoop up some of my cum. He licked it off of his hand and fingers, and then bent over to kiss me. My own cum joined with our saliva to make for some messy, nasty, wonderful kissing. When it had all dissolved and disappeared, JT scooped up the rest of my cum and we repeated the whole thing.
"I love your boy juice," JT said. "I love the taste of it. And I love the fun I have when I extract it."
"So here's the plan for the rest of the weekend," JT went on. "I'm going to practice for a while. You can watch TV or read or whatever you want. About four, I'm going to milk you again. And then about five, I'm going to milk you a third time. Eventually, I need to figure out how much you can come, and how often."
I smiled. "You always have a plan, Sir."
"How often do you masturbate, Sam?"
"I know the rule, Sir. Be honest." I said it before he could remind me. "I would do it more if I had privacy. I usually do it in the shower, locked in the bathroom. I'd say about three times a week. If my family weren't around, it would be much, much more."
"I will eventually take control of that, Sam. I will give you some rules for masturbation. And you'll have to keep track of it when we are not together. Then, when we get together, you'll report how many times you jerked off, and when. Obviously, you'll be reporting all of your other sexual activities to me, as well."
"Sir, I can't imagine that I'm going to be doing stuff with other guys."
"You may be surprised, Sam. Anyway, for now you have my permission to do whatever you want with other guys. So long as you report it to me."
"Yes, Sir. It sounds good. I think I'm going to like it that way."
JT got up and started getting ready to practice his trumpet. He got back into his boxer shorts, and then he found his t-shirt and got back into that as well. He told me that he'd be in his room. I realized that I should have brought my trombone so that I could practice as well. The Hot Shots were all dedicated to their music. I'd had two very good practice sessions with Wayne, and it was intimidating. I had been getting by in junior high band without much effort, treating band like a fun hobby. High school band was an entirely different league. I was learning from Wayne just how serious the Hot Shots were about music. Wayne was the second chair trombone, and he was extremely good. It was a major benefit of the Hot Shots that he was mentoring me.
After washing the residual cum off of my stomach and pubes, I went to the living room and turned on the TV. I laid down on the couch to watch a boring Saturday afternoon movie rerun. Almost immediately, I dozed off.
Sam is going to be milked two more times. JT apparently has big plans for Sam's sex life and libido. There will be much more training and much more action ahead.
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