% This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental in nature.
% Countries have various rules regarding reading or viewing adult material'. It is up to you, the reader, to research this subject, abiding by laws and conscience. The pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an `adult audience.' Bypass this warning at your own risk!
% If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex & related stuff makes you wanna barf or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story.
% Sexual safety matters. Guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection and I don't mean going out and hiring a security guard...unless he gives your nuts and bolt a jolt!
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'SiLeNTLy PoPuLAR' o3
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
Pete had stopped over, to hand his friend the copy of a report due. Little did he know he would be drained of half of the unhappy moments that plagued his mind for most of his teenaged years.
Waking up first, Kristjan found Pete to be in a deep sleep. It made it easier to crawl off his bod and slip from the bed to his feet. He found himself hard, but not as a result of something sexual. He did stop to think about it, but touching himself, 'nah', the stiffness wasn't caused by gazing down upon his friend's bod. Going to the jon, he relieved his longing. His mind was not on task. He willed himself to stop taking a leak, when it splashed on the tiled wall.
"Oh-shoot!"
While wiping the wall his mind was more on his friend. Whatever normalcy was left in his brain, he knew he had to get help and that led to hoping Flint would be on the other end of his text. Clumsily Kristjan scrubbed tiling with his right hand, his phone in his left, a thumb choosing letters like a pro. Slowly the texting won out, paper towel crumbled and in the garbage. His butt hit the cold tiles of the floor, the only thing shocking Kristjan enough to stop texting!
Lifting off the floor, it had the power of a hot stove, which being cold didn't affect the skin as much, settling down and continuing to text Flint.
Frankly, Flint hated havng to get up at the crack of dawn for another one of the rector's boring homilies. That first time he thought about what he did last night, Flint popped a smile across his face. It had him looking around the chapel, to see if any of the others noticed the silent reason he felt giddy.
First time, this was not, but that first time, Flint looked around and having that flush feeling, knowing his face was red. Upon catching one of the chaplins mimic, a hand at his pubes, thumb and fore-finger circling air, 'jerking', flint smirked, having been given the same sign at least ten or twenty times over.
The chaplain, Brother Edward, continued by sticking a finger in his mouth and licking it off. That put a toothy grin on Flint's face, but also a reprimanding, in the form of, "as with Brother Flint," followed by an 'ahem', the rector clearing his throat. Flint's ears perked up to the matters at hand.
Flint swore he would keep secrets to himself and not engage in anything sexual, unless outside the church. Well, that didn't last long, being he's grown accustomed to the chaplain sucking him off a couple of times a week now. Not without benefit, Brother Edward has covered Flint's ass, figuratively speaking, whenever he should have been there at the morning meeting of the brothers.
That was when Flint first transitioned his life, from college to his job at the church. Really, he was only interested in helping his a person, but joining a shelter, connected to a religious organization, it got him sucked in.
When Flint did get Kristjan's text, while sitting at a boring church meeting, what could have been communicated in words, was texted, 'of course I have time for you, Eddy!'
At another time, Flint could be busy at the church, receiving a text from Brother Edward, 'Can you come to my house, NOW?'
Unlike other times he's received an inquiring message, Flint texts back, 'or.' meaning Brother Edward could come to the church and they'd get it on with a quick JO in the choir room.
Flint is texted back, 'no or's... you need to get to my place, pronto!'
What a dilemma, the power of sexual suggestion weighing against a teenager's text, causes Flint to sin. Lying was better than disappointing a young guy who has put his faith in him, texting back a quick, 'I'll have to get back to you on that, Kristjan'.
Thinking fiction, while his hand was wrapped around his hard shaft, Flint is torn between reality and silent thoughts of what could be, 'I'll make an effort, but my car is in shop, Eddy,' he texts. Conscious of grammatical errors, 'I mean in the shop.'
Brother Edward texts back, 'I got what you menat the first time. your call.'
Flint hesitates, trying to gather his whits, wondering what is meant by 'menat'.
He never gets the chance to unravel the word, a text coming through, 'well be waiting for you, but if no-show hope you won't mind cut in pay nex paycheck?'
Flint ponders, like, was he meaning two men there waiting or Eddy himself? Regardless, his nuts were too hyped up to think of the possibilities. In his early college years, Flint earned college money, not worrying if one or two tongues worked his shaft over. The final word, Flint texts, 'getting myself together.'
For two years now Flint's been enjoying the extra bucks in his wallet and no way was he about to jeopardize the interruption of the cash flow. Of college days, his cell number available to a few repeat encounters, he knew the SSS drill, jumping into just Shirt, Shorts, Shoes, which made it simple to dress, grab his keys and head out. As had plagued him before, call it 'cost-of-living', Flint had to up his rates or he'd never get rid of his junk-on-wheels and invest in a new way to get around. With college debt, he could never afford something brand spanking new, but an upgrade was his best bet. Still, a used vehicle had its ups and downs.
First to hit Flint was the cut in pay. For certain he'd have to either take a loan out to get his car out of the shop. It was a handy tool for taking a dude to a secluded area of the park, throw a guy over the hood and position him so that his fat wedge fit between the legs. Depending on the work done on his car, it might entail two trips to the park.
Obvious that Brother Edward was waiting, 'well, are you coming?' Flint, a little hard over his own silent thoughts, texts back, 'I'm on my way.'
Flint laughed to himself, of the play on words, if he didn't make a decision soon, he'd be coming, and for the fact he tended to spew forth with so much goo, it was always a tedious clean up.
'Make it snappy will ya?'
Flint was perturbed about the shortness of how Brother Edward left the text, a sort of goodbye greeting, but without goodbyes. In the past, there was always a word to end a text, even if 'ok'.
There was nothing more to say or do, except spring into action.
Flint's balls were enough to drive him into doing something he hated to do. Turning around, he met with one of the other brothers.
"Seau-u-u-u-un, thank God," Flint does the sign-of-the-cross, "hey buddy, how about doing me a favor?"
It was Sean, the bucket-boy, as he was termed, a 20-year old street kid who was given a meal, pick of the clothing bin and a job, looking to someday to save up for full time college tuition. Not the first time Flint has bummed a ride off of Sean.
Before Flint could get it out, Sean says, "sure, never a problem doing you a favor, Flint!"
Sean's wink, Flint knew he sealed the deal.
Even though Flint is very straight-acting, hiding his true sex desires, Sean saw right past that cover. It's been several weeks now that Flint has been holding off from reacting to Sean's requests to give him a blow job, but now that seems like an impossible task!
"I know," Flint knew, backing away from Sean's advances, "but I'll make it up to you somehow, if you give me a ride up the street?"
Smartly, stabbing his bucket with the mop, Sean says, "if it's just up the street, why don't you walk?"
Thinking of his wallet getting lighter, Flint presses, "okay, so it's not just up the street, it's a town over. You going to take me or what?"
"Meet you around back in 15," Sean replies.
As Flint hustles away to inform the 'Father', he has to miss early morning homily, to attend to a homeless guy who frequents the shelter, "make that 5 minutes!"
It was complicated, but Flint knew Sean would figure things out from there. The twenty year old was broke, but using his own resources, Sean would come up with a set of wheels. Even though he was only seven years older, Flint thought of Sean as a 'young kid', with not much different a mentality than when he was a junior or senior in high school. Those high school years paved the way for his college years, having to scrounge around. Sometimes his debt would catch up with him, like happened as a senior in high school. 'Thank God', Flint would think, when repaying $25 lent to him. Happening in the month of May, rumors about the graduating high school senior, put Flint in a quandary about covering his debt with a blowjob.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, the rumors did get back to the church where he was thought highly of, as a servant, singing in the choir, helping with the Sunday school. He found out he was not the only one keeping sexual thoughts in the closet.
One of the assistant laymen, Dante, even though not a priest, did have quite an influence over matters of the church.
"Flint, can I speak with you a moment?"
'This was it,' Flint thought, his secret finally making it's way to the church, "of course," he remained cool, calm and collective.
Though when they entered the office and heard Dante not only close the door, but click the lock, did get clammy.
"Have a seat," Dante says, adding, "on the sofa," when Flint goes for a wooden chair.
Dante was quite the persuader, in no time working his way with words, from one end of the sofa to where Flint sat.
With Dante working his hands up the inside of Flint's tee shirt, "um?"
Dante took it for granted that Flint did this all the time, "just lie back, relax and let me do all the work."
His teen cock was already at half mast, Flint going with the flow, "um. Sure."
Flint was totally surprised, thinking Dante was on the same hierarchy as some of the priests at the church, in the way he carried himself, but after his shirt came off and his belt buckle was worked open, Dante stripping it from his pants, Flint started thinking off kilter, "are you sure you should be doing this, Dante?"
Dividing the zipper of Flint's pants, Dante replies, "I might work for the church, but I ain't no saint!"
Flint smiled at the joke, but then was brought back to reality when he was repositioned on the sofa.
Dante made a few adjustments in order to slip Flint's jeans from his butt, yanking at the leggings to pull them off. From the rumors he's heard, which by the time it got back to the church, by way of Dante hearing it from a high school senior boy he's met with in the same chambers, "from what I hear, you're quite the dominant man around the high school!"
'Dominant?' Flint thought. He didn't think sucking off a high school footballer was a dominant act, but rather the lowest thing a guy could do, for money, or something like it, "dominant, you say? Really? Like, how would that go?"
Not only with determination to get Flint naked, Dante provokes, "oh, don't go being modest Flint. Has it been only high school boys you've fucked?"
Thoughts raced through Flint's mind. He knew the differences between sucking and fucking, but it was only one time he sucked a guy and, "exactly what did you hear, Dante?"
With ulterior motives, Dante was prodding Flint to get some kind of scenario going. He loved sex coupled with roleplaying and if this is how it could get going, "precisely, how much money have you made off of your God-given talent. And just for curiosity's sake, was it the whole football team you fucked?"
All Flint could think of was repaying a footballer with a blowjob, in lieu of two tens and a five, but fielding Dante's question, nonchalantly says, "oh, prolly enough for a down payment on college tuition. And no, wasn't the whole team."
In reality, Flint hadn't a clue to how he was going to afford college. About fucking some or all of the high school football team, it was almost June and after graduation, it's not which he thought he would ever be seeing anyone from high school again, but headed in a different direction, doubt their paths would cross.
Leaving the sofa and Flint, totally naked, except for his briefs still intact, Dante walks over to a wall, swings a picture frame away from it and turns a dial attached to a safe embedded in the wall.
"If you play your cards right, Flint, after today you'll never have to worry about tuition again."
And, for the first two years of general college education, Dante remained true to his word, giving Flint blowjobs and begging the college man to fuck him, until a time came when Dante was accused by his superiors of dipping his fingers into the collection plate, wondering where all the money went. Instead of implicating Flint, Dante claimed he sent it to a shelter in Africa, and being good at explaining himself out of a bad situation, said the shelter unfortunately was just overrun by guerrillas. He was given a slap on the wrist, but for Flint, he lost his college backing and his sole outlet for sex!
Not for long though. Whereas one situation dies, another becomes available. It seems Dante was not only highly thought of at the church, until his demise, the church worker became highly thought of in the community. All it took was Flint handing the letter Dante gave him, to the director of the local golf course. Quite elaborate a place, not only was golf being played on the green, but there were locker rooms, a restaurant, bar, small cottages those who wanted to not only have a change of clothing, but get rested up for the next tournament.
The director, Mack McNally, stand there behind his desk, allowing the reference letter from Dante dangle from his fingertips. While studying it, he lifts a cup of coffee to his lips.
"Oops," he sets the cup down on his desk, after having it dribble down his shirt, "I should pay more attention, you think?"
Flint, out to snatch up a job, agrees, "probably."
He didn't want to offend, it being this is the only job he's applied to, whereas Dante has guaranteed him, not having to wait for a call back.
Sure enough, Mack says as he lays the letter down on his desk, "well, coming from my old friend, Dante, you're hired."
Years later, Flint would again be thanking Dante, for finding him a parish to serve in, after graduation from seminary.
"Excuse me for getting to the point, but where will my service be needed?"
Being this letter of recommendation was from 'Dante', Mack had an idea, "have you ever worked in hospitality?"
"Hospital? No. Never," Flint replies.
It made the thirty-seven year old giggle, crack a smile, before informing, "what I probably should have said is, have you ever worked at managing people?" Silently, it was on Mack's mind, 'what a cutie!'
That first real job Flint held, he learned much. It wasn't so much text book knowledge, but rather how to negotiate in business, how to help straight men think gay, increasing the size of a tip substantially and other off the beaten path subjects regarding temporary employment.
From a twenty-three year old's perspective, Flint became quite adept of the signals a man sends, approaching the subject of picking up guys and other matters of the heart and crotch. After four years of seminary and religious studies, his wanting and yearning overrode all those teachings, when he found out talkling about religion didn't fare well when meeting up with a dude who's mind was only on how big his hard shaft could get.
His very first guest, whom he had shown to his cottage, proved that theory. From out of town, a fasion desinger and businessman, Lorenzo Alberdelli, had come to play golf with his two buddies. All it took was a wink from the southern gentleman, a gaze to Flint's crotch and a smile, and he 'knew!'
Really, Flint's job was standing at the front desk, greeting a guest, calling over a service team member and introduce the customer, should they need further attention during their stay.
As Flint was about to call over a valet, Alberdelli says as he fans out five twenties on the counter, "there's five more in it for you, if you deliver my luggage personally," he leans in to look at the brass plate on Flint's chest, "Mr. Svensson?"
The club administrator comes over to stand next to Flint, puts a cordial hand to the, at the time, twenty-three year old's back, "of course, Mr. Alberdelli Our staff are always willing to go the extra mile to help our clientele."
Hoping to spend an easy summer job standing behind the counter and having the country club servicemen toil away at delivering heavy luggage, Flint questions, "really?"
Either McNally never heard Flint, or ignores him, Alberdelli praising the decision with delight, "excellent!"
That's how it all started, Flint's first day on the job, it becoming more about cottage-hopping, than glued to the front desk of the Marven Field Country Club. Whereas he thought his summer was going to be uneventful and a drudge, Flint proved himself wrong. He also got a lot of experience stripping out of his uniform and an expert at tying a tie!
Flint also found out why Alberdelli always picked the deluxe cottage, which deviated from containing two rooms, this one special single dwelling having four. The master bedroom was the biggest, containing a king-sized bed. An ornate iron grill was at the top of the bed near the pillows. Over the whole bed was the same iron patterned works, stanctions attached to the four corners of the bed, rising up to a square frame topping it off. It looked more like it belonged in a gym.
While Alberdelli chit-chatted with Mack McNally, one of the valets who has been there for several consecutive summers, Eric, comes over to talk with Flint.
"Oh man, did you luck out."
It left Flint's imagination reeling, "in what way?"
Before Flint's attention was drawn to the new guest, he learned from Eric, 5-twenties was nothing to what he could be tipped, amassing to at least double or tripling his salary on a weekly basis. If he was really lucky, he could earn a round trip to Italy during fashion week in Milan and stay with Alberdelli at the family villa, complete with an all-male staff!
Of course all this went to the twenty-year-old's head, Flint seeing dollar upon dollar sign silently appearing before his eyes. Not thinking, this went completely against what Flint had learned in the last few years of seminary.
Always the go-getter, when opportunity knocks, Flint says to Eric, "five twenties, you say? Well, you know what?"
Thinking he was the mentor here, Eric stands there, feet spread, arms crisscrossing his chest, "what?"
"A contest of sorts."
"Contest?" Eric's face contorts, wondering what Flint is talking about.
"By the end of the summer, we lay our cash out on the table and see who has the most."
"And the prize?"
Dropping one hand to his crotch, Eric hints of what the prize could entail.
Not exactly what Flint had in mind, "I was thinking more like ten percent of the loser's cut?"
"Fine." Eric makes up his own rules, "I lose and you get ten percent. But if you lose," his hand gently squeezes his own crotch, "and I divide it 50|50."
It didn't take advanced math for Flint to figure out which parts of the bod were of equal proportions and figuring on monetary means versus Eric's lean frame, "hmm," he shifts to leaning on one foot, "I might just want to take that 50|50 challenge on myself!"
It would only be a matter of time before both were needing to visit the community shower where male employees gathered to freshen up. Having been at the country club for a number of weeks, Eric's spotted no less than ten guys he'd to get close with, his front to their back.
"You got a deal," Eric breaks off lightly fondling his own crotch, to shake Flint's hand.
He was surprised Flint had the same idea, "I guess I won't see what I have to divvy up until shower, tomorrow."
Being he was the first to arrive at the country club for summer employment, Eric was granted the pick of the litter when it came to crew quarters. Of his choosing the only cottage which housed 2 guys and a private shower, he kept silent the second room wasn't chosen, in an attempt to wait until all the other employee rooms at the club were taken and Eric could choose a room mate. He knew other men would be arriving to fill employment slots, but Flint fascinated him, not to mention made his cock throb.
"Have you picked a room to stay?"
"Yes and I know I shouldn't complain, but..." Flint keeps silent about having to room with six other guys, of which one of the guys plays hard to get along with, "well, the truth is, even though I try to make the best of even the worst of situations, this one guy gives me the creeps."
Again Eric takes on the stance, feet shoulders width, arms folded along his pecs, "oh really. What's his name?"
"Um," Flint slips his left arm under right elbow and taps the side of his head, as if that would make him think faster. Then, it coming to him, drops both arms to his sides, "something like, 'wood'?"
Eric, though a bit lanky looking and for a fact, always wished when reaching puberty his features would pan out with a thick rug on his chest, massive hairy trail down his abs and tufts of pit hair, was disappointed none of that filled in on his bod. All he sported was a bit of hair around his nips and thin treasure trail. Not every man was created equal!
"You must mean Woodrow?"
Snapping a finger, it comes clear to Flint, "that's him!"
Of the low cut tee shirt Flint wore, Eric silently lusted over thick thatch which could seen popping out of the neckline. About the shower idea, he'd have to wait to catch the boys at the pool to check out their bods. In particular, he wanted to have Flint's barechest all to his own viewing, which has him saying, 'cmon then," he makes a hasty decision, "let's get your things. I know of one vacancy where you don't have to worry about guys like that."
"Oh?"
Nodding his head towards the other bed in the room, "that is if you don't mind sharing with me?"
Seeing only one bed in the immediate room and not the other in a separate division, leaves Flint with opinion, "moving kind of fast, are we?" he giggles.
It's what Eric eventually hoped for, to get a roomie naked and in the same bed, but levels with him, "oh no, Flint. Not what I meant. This is a private suite," he takes his new roommate by the arm and leads him to the subdivision, "there's another bed in the other room."
To throw off suspicion, a feeling Flint had that Eric was gay, he instantly says, "that's what I thought."
Eric was no dumb bunny, knowing what Flint thought, "or," he takes the opportunity of the moment to plunge, back first, onto the sturdy wooden bed, "we could share?"
By then the jig was up. Eric's invitation, added to Flint's assumptions, the feelings only thought, were reality.
Flint was beefy, not which he had much to do with it, having built in 'bear' genes. Tall, at 6-feet, 2 inches, he could tell Eric not much shorter. Thinking on overdrive, he tried to figure a clever way to peel off his shirt, "well, I guess I better get dressed in my new uniform, eh?"
From the bed, propped up on elbows, Eric gets his first view of Flint, stripping off his tee shirt, remarking like unveiling a famous painting, "shit, Flint!"
Holding his tee shirt in the crook of his left elbow, Flint pans a hand over his fuzzy chest, "you like smooth guys better?"
Frankly, ever since hair started popping out of the pores of Flint's chest, he started the habit of rubbing a hand over it, periodically to test how much hair had grown in since the last time. Even though he could view the darkness of the brown hair covering his pecs and stomach, that habit never went away. In doing so, an extra perk, he's found out just how sensitive his nips are, which eventually had him feeling both with both hands, tweaking his nips and feeling it much lower!
From resting on his elbows, Eric could not contain his emotions any longer, rocking forward and onto his butt. Once there he tumbled over onto knees.
Of his years in seminary, Flint knew just because he pledged some vows, it didn't mean his sexual life was over. Every year of his education he's met up with a guy, some individuals repeatedly. He was amazed that everyone of those men, all they wanted was to have a guy rule over them, have Flint take them over like a possession. Thinking Eric no different and taking away from prior experience, treats the twenty-five year old like the others, "I guess you want it bad?"
Eric moving to his knees, strips his shirt off overhead.
Along life's way, Flint has picked up some keenly crafted phrases, of which he has put the first one out there and when Eric doesn't respond verbally, "whenever you're ready to slip off my belt?"
Of all the guys he's met with, Flint has always favored a man named 'Ethan'. Much like Eric's build, except for more muscular definition, from the start they played a game. It's the first Flint ever heard of roleplay and at the beginning admitted he didn't know what he was doing. However, with consecutive meetups and Ethan's tutoring, Flint learned much of how a 'master' treats his 'slave'.
Anyone who knew Eric to be gay, knew he was a glorified top, but in his own mind, Eric silently thought of how it would be, owned by a man's mind, carrying out his every wish. Of this moment, he was totally blown away by Flint's beautiful, hairy bod, of which desire takes over, wondering the surroundings of Flint's cock and whether or not he shaves his balls?
"Right away."
From past encounters, Flint encourages, "that's 'sir' to you, 'boy'."
Eric was eating it up, not literally, winding his tongue around Flint's shaft, but hurrying to undo the buckle and strip the leather talon from the pants loops.
He went directly to unfurl the flaps of Flint's pants.
"Uh, hold up a minute there, boy."
It tickled Flint just how much he could wield the power of control over a man. What he learned, in particular from Ethan, even though he experimented with his dominance over other men, that lust and want could be the vehicle to get a man to do anything on a whim.
"I thought," Eric gasps.
"That's the thing," Flint draws off his learning, "you don't think. You leave that up to me."
Eric was a little stunned, yet his boiling balls wished to make whatever he did wrong, to go right, "well, ok then."
"No," Flint tries acting tough, though not all the time could he project it, this being acting out and not how he is in real life, "you'll address me as 'sir'. Remember?"
With Ethan, he instructed Flint, upon doing something wrong, even the smallest detail, he was to punch him in the stomach or slap him up aside the head. At first Flint was reluctant, but when he found Ethan's muscular abs could take a hefty punch and how favorable the moaning and groaning could be, almost equal to stroking a dude's meat, he applied more pressure.
It hit Eric, thinking of himself as Flint's boss at the Country Club, questions, "this is just fun and games, right?"
Flint knew the answer to that question, one of his past experiences with S&M roleplay, if he and his trick should happen to meet on the street, "whatever goes on in this cottage, stays here. Out there," he nods, meaning out on the club grounds, "it's the real world. And yes to your next question, out there," another nod, "you're the boss and I'm your employee."
With the mutual understanding, Eric says, "well, ok then. What do you want me to do?"
Ethan learned to love discipline, Flint not reluctant to dish it out, being he knew what the limits were. Of Eric, "every time you displease me, punishment follows."
Eric well-knew that alternative, when things like two guys had an unkept cottage and he had them literally scrub it from roof and rafters to the board flooring, "I think I can deal with that."
Thinking on what Ethan loved, to have his abs beaten, of Eric and that skinny, almost boney frame, one punch might destroy the whole rib cage, chooses what another dude likened to as punishment, "can you now?"
This was all experiment for Eric. Truthfully, he had intended on himself being the top and Flint lying on his stomach, fucking him hard. Even though he didn't work out, whereas he lacked arm and leg muscle, what he held between his legs compensated. In past years at the country club he had a reputation and by the end of the summer, rumor had it Eric had fucked every guy who worked there and many of the male guests.
Of this particular situation, Eric has never confronted the issue, "I can try it, I guess?"
At this point Flint, like other encounters, had an idea this wasn't playing out and picking up his shirt, "why don't we forget about it for now?"
Only problem, Eric was hard. Really hard.
"No. Really. I'm up for this."
How could Flint not tell, Eric on his knees and the bulge in his pants, yet the attitude wasn't there. He could resort to one of two things. Back down or rev up the action. He decides to do what he set out to do, see how far he could take things.
"Okay then," Flint proceeds slowly, "why don't we start with punishment and work our way from there?"
"Punishment? Like, what did do wrong?"
It could get complicated. From experience with guys, a boy speaking out could earn punishment in itself. But he also knew, like Eric, the throbbing of his own balls wasn't going to last forever!
"I'm surprised you didn't pick up on it," Flint left Eric even more perplexed, "you touched my pants without asking?"
It suddenly hits Eric, "what do I look like, your slave?"
Smiling, because Eric was being so cute at being dumb, "that's exactly what you are," reinforcing, "that is, when we're inside the cottage?"
Another thought, Eric says, "does that mean you're my slave outside the cottage?"
It's not which Flint hasn't played the opposite role, naked, on his knees, hands tied behind his back and made to lick balls and suck cock, "it could go that way. I don't mind playing both sides of the fence."
It pops into Eric's head, the advantages, being he could train Flint to take up the slack in the duties he performs at the country club, giving him more time to be at the pool and scope out the manflesh, "so then, what's my punishment and how much are you going to give me?"
At seminary, Flint took the opportunity to dust off the exercise room in the basement. Of Eric, he says, "have you ever stepped inside of a gym?"
"So, what you're saying," Eric guesses, as he slips knees off the bed and stands, "is I'm a skinny weakling?"
"Well," Flint runs the back of a hand against Eric's abs, "I wouldn't say you're anorexic but you certainly could use some toning up?"
Their eyes meet, Flint smiling at Eric, who is trying to process.
Before too much time lapses, Flint, his hand on the rebound from moving up and down Eric's chest, digs under the beltline, "however, I take it you have no problem toning up, down here?"
From eyes to looking down Flint's hairy trail, embedded in all that luscious brown fur, Eric stares at where the hand is lodged, "what do I do next, sir?"
"Work my pants off, boy?"
They dropped all protocol as both went to work unbuttoning pants. Whereas Flint's jeans fall to the floor, kicking out of them, he pushes Eric over onto the bed, scoots pants under the ass and yanks on the leggings, tossing them aside.
Flint spots Eric void of his underwear, "I see you're all ready for whatever comes your way?"
Sitting up, Eric reaches out and grabs Flint by the elastic waistband of his briefs, catapulting him forward.
"Oh man, Eric," Flint says, lying on top, "I thought for sure I crushed every bone in your bod?"
"I'm more resilient than you think!"
Flint wondered about that and what was propelling his mind onward was his bulging briefs constricting his robust cock and balls, shaft wanting to gain freedom from its lycra prison. He also wondered how much control he still had over his sex pig.
Straddling Eric with his knees he slides them up the bed.
Seeing those packed briefs gaining on him, moving from his stomach to his chest, Eric wonders how this is all going to unfold.
"I'm a top, you know?"
Flint rationalizes, "you mean, when you're outside the cottage?"
"Oh. I forgot about that."
But Flint didn't and enforcing his stance even more, now that his churning balls are way beyond wanting release, "which is why you need discipline. Take off my briefs with your teeth, boy."
Running through Eric's mind was, 'oh, we're back to that,' he wasn't thinking about the inevitable, but rather that massive, upfront assault of the brown forest covering Flint's chest, stomach, deep navel and treasure trail. He could only imagine the treasure he was being led to.
"Well?"
Eric knew if he kept silent and remained motionless, the opportunity could go away, which had him trying to lift his head off the bed. It was tough going, being his arms were pinned to his sides by Flint's knees.
"Like how?"
Flint knew it was a process, a guy figuring out, if he wanted something bad enough, the lengths he would have to go to get it, "okay. Being it's your first time, cutting you some slack, boy."
Knowing what a man wants and needs, Flint makes it easier on Eric, standing at the foot of the bed, legs spread, hands behind the head, flaunting those thick pits.
Eric was in a dilemma. All his life he's thought of men on their knees, begging for his cock, lusting with tongues hanging from lips, but now he was in their place. Yet, that wall of brown fur made him turn the tide.
Flint watches as Eric sits at the bottom of the bed. He knows there's thinking going on, himself at times thinking what to do, if it were the right thing, or would he regret it. Suddenly, feeling it, he looks down and confirms it, a bead of cum seeping through his briefs.
"Better hurry up boy. You already have one demerit on your slate."
That's what Flint heard a guy say, using an imaginary slate, how the demerits could accumulate.
He felt safe with Flint, yet of the word, 'punishment', Eric somewhat dreaded the implementation of it, "right away."
Not wanting to get real technical, because of the leakage, Flint quips, "you mean, right away, sir?"
"Yeah," he smiles up at Flint from down on his knees, "that's what I meant, sir."
Eric did reach out and try to get his teeth on the rim of Flint's briefs, but it was too awkward.
Almost ready to shoot his load, Flint pushes Eric away and removes his own briefs.
Stroking himself to keep hard, Flint barks, "c'mon. Up on the bed."
"I'm not sure about this," Eric says, about to have his virgin hole penetrated.
A true sign, of giving the go ahead, Flint spreads Eric's legs, as the 'boy' lifts them towards his chest.
There was little time to think, Eric feeling the tip of Flint's shaft on the entrance to his ass. He couldn't believe he was making it so easy, lifting his own legs and pulling back on them, opening up his ass cavity.
Without words, the two worked like a machine, getting ready to rev up the engine to full steam.
"Take it easy, okay?"
"Sure. No worries," Flint says as the bulb of his cock passes the point of no return.
Eric wasn't so sure of that, being Flint was using his own cum to lube up his tube, something to boast about, looking to be as long as half a man's arm!
Looks could be deceiving, especially on the receiving end and Eric, no less than four or five times, had second thoughts about handing his ass over to Flint. Yet, when his legs came to rest over his fucker's shoulders and he could reach out touch all the fur, it became total surrender.
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% Copyright 2021 T. Chase McPhee
Developing segments of 'SiLeNTLy PoPuLAR' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the author.