So, some of you who are dinosaurs, like me, will remember that there WAS a time when we didn't have email, or personal computers, or cell phones, or texting... NUTHIN. How did we live? An almost necessary accessory for every gay man, though, was an answering machine: a big, bulky metallic "thing" that sat under your landline (we had those), and recorded messages when you were out. IF you had one of the fancier ones, you could go to a pay phone (google it), and punch in the numbers to see if you had any messages. Good times. Just by way of background here, because after that evening with timmy, where I let the "love" word slip, I didn't hear from him. It was well over a week. I called timmy, left messages, but never got an answer back. Now, timmy wasn't the most communicative person in the world, but when he didn't answer the message that said "Call me, bottom, and that's an order!", I began to get concerned. I was having brunch with my "living lesbian" as she called herself (Laura), on the Sunday, and I brought it up. Laura is remarkably clear thinking, and direct. Restaurant servers hated her, because she gave very explicit, very clear instructions about how she wanted her food, and when she didn't get it, well... let me just say: try not to piss off a Latina lesbian.
"So, John, what did you say to him? Did you insult him?" "No, not that I know of. The last thing I said to him was...." and I summarized the chat, and I did tell her about "the one who truly loves you." She put down her coffee, took a breath and stared right at me. "I don't think of you as stupid John, but that may be the stupidest thing you've ever done." I looked at her "Huh? I was teasing him." "You work with human resources and you don't think about what your words carry? Remind me to work somewhere else. YOU SCARED HIM. YOU SCARED HIM BIG TIME." "Laura, you're scaring me." "GOOD. Because your favorite dyke is gonna tell you what you need to do. And in return, in PARTIAL return, you're going to pay for brunch including the second drink she's gonna have right now." She gave me good advice. To sum up, she told me that what I had done, in her view, was to show a crack in my "top man" persona, or at least the one timmy wanted. It was ok for me to love him: it just wasn't ok for me to TELL him that, when he was thinking of me as his conqueror, his owner, etc. When I asked her what to do , she had solid advice. And as you'll now read, it worked.
One thing Laura said struck me. "It's one thing to make your bottom come to you whenever you get together, but just because it's a fucking hike doesn't mean you can't go out there and get him." So, while it took 2 hours, I did what she suggested. I waited until Friday, because this "plan" (scheme would be better) would take a few days. I packed a bag with what I'd need for one or two days: clothes and toys, put on my leather jacket, and started the public transportation commute to his home. I had waited until Friday as well, so I could leave early: I wanted to be there when he got home.
timmy lived in one of those old style houses with a stoop. I did get there before he got home (I knew, because I didn't see his bike around), and parked myself on the stoop. I had a book with me, so it was fine: it was one of those days when summer is becoming autumn (one writer described that kind of day as "when you start forgetting about iced tea and remembering hot coffee"), and it was still light. I knew the sound of timmy's bike by heart, and I just sat there and read, until I heard it about a block away. That's when I put the book away, closed my overnight bag, and sat there, staring.
timmy drove up, and I could tell he wasn't sure if it were me. He took off his helmet and got off the bike. You know, I've made some bad choices, and some good choices. timmy was a good choice. And my taste was never more evident than that late afternoon. He was wearing his denim jacket: he must have had it since high school: tight and worn, and faded, with a pair of old 501s that he had rolled at the cuff. And the blue polo shirt I had bought him. I was ready to fuck him on the stoop. He was walking toward me, and he had a sheepish smile.
"JOHN! This is a surprise. " I stood up. "WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?" I saw the color go out of his face. "I'm sorry Sir. Sir John. This is a surprise." "Get in the house. Now. We got some talking to do, but we got some fucking to do first." "yes sir." He barely whispered. "Can I carry your bag Sir?" "You can open the door and do as you're told. " "yes sir." When he opened the door I realized: I had never been to his home before. Rent was cheaper where he lived than I did, but I didn't know it was THAT much cheaper. His place was at least four times the size of mine. I looked around. I saw it right away: I didn't know he kept any photos of us, but there was one, in a frame, on the table next to his sofa. He was sitting, smiling big time. I was standing behind him, looking as stern as I could (which isn't very), with my arms around him. He didn't say anything. I just said "Where's the bedroom? Unless you want me to FUCK you right on the floor. " "This way Sir." GEEZ. His BEDROOM was bigger than my whole apartment. Four poster bed too. Why wasn't I tying him up here? Anyhow, the ropes came later. For now, we had to just get "reacquainted" . "UNBUCKLE YOUR PANTS, THEN GET ON THE BED . FACE DOWN." "yes sir, " he answered meekly. I don't know if he heard the "woosh" as I pulled my dress belt from my pants, or the sound of me folding it, but I know he felt it when I began the lashing. I had thought I would do 20, but as we went along, his moans, and his twistings, got me hotter and hotter. I stopped after 35. He felt it. "I'm sorry Sir. I shouldn't have..." "SHUT UP BOTTOM BOY" I responded. " I reached underneath and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down. "Well, well, well. Look who's wearing SUPERMAN speedos today. Isn't that cute? And I've got my kryptonite cock. You'll get it. After you get my kryptonite tongue." Maybe because his ass was so sore from the beating, but when I pushed his cheeks apart, timmy already began moaning. When I got my tongue in, I was glad I had forgotten to gag him. GOD were those sounds music to my ears. "Please SIR. PLEASE. I don't deserve it, but... FUCK ME. FUCK YOUR BITCH" "You know why you're getting fucked, boy? It's not because you WANT it. It's because I WANT IT." Yes sir. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH." I gave him no warning and spat into his crack before I shoved in my dick, full length, all at once. "Like a fucking corn dog, BITCH. That's what you are. " "Yes sir. NNNNNNNNNG." He was whining. Remember, he still had the chastity cage on, and it would stay on for most of the weekend, and he was getting really, REALLY hard. I was BRUTAL. After I had taken about 15 thrusts, I grunted. "You have a SHITLOAD of explaining to do, ass wipe. And if I find out that you spent any of this time with another man, well... you think that FIRST beating was severe? "Sir. I promise. I save my ass for you." NO BITCH. YOU DENY ME YOUR ASS UNLESS I COME AND TAKE IT. AND I'M GONNA MAKE UP FOR WHAT I MISSED THIS WEEKEND. "Oh GOD. yes sir," was the answer I got back, as my cock pumped faster, and faster. I thought of how he looked when he came home that day. If I were cute, he was HOT. Thinking about what I planned to do to those nipples of his... that pushed me over the top. I grabbed his hair, pulled back his head so if he looked upward he could just see me and I said, no screamed.
"WHEN I CALL YOU, YOU ANSWER. AND IF I TELL YOU TO COME, YOU COME. GOT IT BITCH?" "YES SIR!" It seemed that this was what he was waiting for, because it was the first time he answered in a loud voice. Then he began whimpering again, as I shot into him. "YES SIR. TAKE MY WORTHLESS ASS. TAKE IT . OWN IT. " I heard a sniffle, then I heard timmy crying into the bed a little. I rubbed the back of his neck, something he really liked. It calmed him down. "Roll over timmy . Pull up your jeans if you want. I'm gonna lay here next to you and listen to whatever you need to tell me. "Can you hold me Sir? Even for a little bit?" "As long as you want timmy . As long as you want." He didnt' see me grin as I pulled him into me. Part of the grin was feeling his cage against my knee. The other was the scent of his cologne: he still used Old Spice. "Sir. I... I freaked out. I'm sorry." I pulled his hair back and looked into his eyes. "Because I said I was the one who truly loved you?" He began sniffling again. "Yes sir. I wasn't... I'm not... ready for that. I just." "It's okay, timmy, it's ok. Forget I ever said it." "No Sir. I can't. I mean.. I was so happy when you did but then I realized... I don't know what that means, and..." "SHHHHH Silly wabbit" I ran my finger down his nose. "I'm gonna feel about you the way I feel about you. And I saw the picture in the living room." He blushed. "It's hard. I know. It's really tough. We'll do this little by little, ok timmy?" "Ok Sir." "And GEEZ. The first part of it might be me moving in here. DAMN you live in a palace. " He laughed. "One of the reasons I can't come over that often, Sir, is because I get a break on the rent, but in return, I act as the building custodian." I raised my eyes. "You mean you get hot and sweaty in a janitor's uniform?" "yes sir." "You have to work this weekend?" "No Sir." "Well, you're gonna wear the uniform for me before the weekend is over. And I'm staying. Don't argue with me." "Well, ok Sir. But there's a race on Sunday." "Then I'll learn about motorcycle races. I'll just refer to you as my motorcycle moll if anyone asks." He turned beet red, and I laughed. "Just kidding you stud. Just kidding. " Then I grabbed his nipples. "MMMMM. You went over a week without these being worked. Good thing I brought clamps."
One of the things that Laura had suggested was that I pick up groceries. She knew that timmy was no cook. I was pretty good, and I didn't know the local restaurants, or if there even were any. An hour later, I had a simple spaghetti with a meat sauce in front of us (timmy didn't consider it a meal without meat), a salad, and some red wine. timmy was so cute: when he ate spaghetti, he'd tuck a napkin into his shirt front, and it killed me, but he cut the spaghetti with a knife and fork before he ate it. It was clear though, that he enjoyed it. I enjoyed watching him eat, and began wondering how I was gonna need to change my plans beyond making him model that janitor's outfit for me. "How do you like wearing the cage, timmy? "I hate it Sir. I like jerking off." "You want me to take it off? " He smiled. "Yes sir." "Well, this is what it's gonna take. You're gonna wash the dishes. But you're gonna wash them in that janitor's uniform. And when you're done, I'm gonna have my way with this buildings hot janitor. "GRRRRRRRRRRRRR" He made a face, and got up and changed. Now, call it strange, but I have a thing for janitors. And you combine that with my man, and the fact that he made everything he wore look better, and... "Fuck the dishes. We'll clean up tomorrow." I pinned his arms behind his back. "Get in the chair. Sit until I get the restraints." "yes sir." I came back and roped him. I tied his wrists behind his back, then I ran three or four loops of rope around his middle. Then I spread his legs and tied them. I had a ball gag with me and used that too. Now, his khaki janitor shirt was too baggy to show off his nipples, so I opened buttons until they were exposed. When he saw the tit clamps, he began to moan. "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH." They were not the ones I used at my place: they were nastier. More like needle nose pliers. They went on. They had a particularly long chain, so I yanked it up and put it OVER his head. Now, if he moved too much, well.. I had found a small spatula in the kitchen, and it was PERFECT for what I had in mind. I slid it, slowly and gently, over his crotch. He knew what was coming. "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMHHHHHHH" and I laughed. "Why should your ass be the only part of you that's sore timmy? I can't think of a single reason. "MMMMMMMNPGMFPFFFFFFFFFFFFFPFPFFPF" came out of him. I had no idea what he was trying to say and I didn't care. I beat his cock more gently than his ass, but he got 35 slaps just the same. And every time he jerked back, well.. the chain would only stretch so far, and his tits went with it. When I was done beating his balls, I began running my hand over his whole crotch. "So, janitor man. You the top?" He shook his head no, and reacted in pain when the chain pulled. I laughed. "You the bottom?" He caught on, and moaned "Mmmph hmmmmmmmmm" "Keep that in mind sexy." I got up because I couldn't help myself. I began kissing him through the ball gag. "I want you again. DAMN I want you again. " "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH." he tried to look down at his crotch, trying to signal me that it was HIS turn. I had every intention of getting him off first, but HE didn't know that. "Ok, my motorcycle janitor bitch. Let's get you out of that chair. " I undid the ankle restraints, and the ropes around his middle. I think he expected the clamps would come off. Not just yet. Bound, gagged, clamped, he got dragged back to the bedroom. I opened the gag. "Well, here's the deal timmy. You still need to be punished, but.... I can take off the clamps, or I can take off the cage, but not both. Which is it gonna be?" He whimpered as he answered. "The cage Sir." "The cage it will be." I moved the chain back so that it hung in front of him. I could make him put it in his mouth at some point if I wanted to, but for now... I opened the cage. He sighed in relief. "THANK YOU SIR. THANK YOU SIR. " He began to move his hand to his cock and I pushed it back. "Nope. Nope. I'm gonna bring you off. You're gonna be using your hands to... twist the clamps. And if I don't think you're doing a good enough job... I'll stop stroking you." He groaned but answered "yes sir." I waited until his hands went up to the clamps and I saw him visibly twisting them before I opened the cage. His dick did pop out the way one would expect one locked up for a week, and I couldn't tell how much of his moaning was from my careful, deliberate stroking, or his twisting. "You do that so well Sir. SO WELL. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH. I'm gonna shoot. Is that ok, Sir?" I smiled, stroked his hair, and kissed him. "Make it big, studmuffin." He did. He gave a yell that I learned on Sunday was the yell he gave when he won a bike race, and shoot he did. "Don't need to go to Yellowstone anymore, stud. I just saw Old Faithful." He smiled. "I'm not that old Sir. " I laughed as I pushed his hands away from his nipples and twisted them harder. "You're fucking ancient. You're the old pretty one in this relationship. I'm the young smart one." He smiled. I continued. "I'm smart because I GOT ya before someone else did." When I said that and looked at his face, I thought "OH SHIT. That was like the love comment." "Can you kiss me Sir? I wanna see if you mean it." "I mean it, but I'm gonna kiss you anyway. Cause when I'm done, you're blowing me. And I don't wanna taste my own cum." I took the clamps off, and covered his mouth before he could howl from the blood going back. I don't think I ever had, or ever have, kissed a man as long as I kissed timmy that night. And when I was done, his eyes rolled and he gave out a "WOOOOOOOOOOOO" . "Shut up and take care of this." I pointed to my cock. It was hard again. Almost as hard as it was when we got in the house. "Yes sir." He got on his knees in front of me, put his hands behind his back and got to work. I tell ya, if the man rode a hog as well as he sucked a cock, I would have been fucking a world champion. I was trying to focus on what else I had in mind for him that weekend. As I closed my eyes, I began to think how he'd look in that denim outfit, if he had a dress shirt on? Did I want to pierce him (SO BADLY. And I never did). Was there a bar nearby where we could go (Yes. You get what you pay for. The Manhattan bars were better). But mostly... I was thinking about how good his ass felt. And it was mine. My orgasm was "substantial," and so was the one I had when I was sleeping, timmy locked in my arms. The weekend was starting out pretty damn good. I owed Laura at least one more brunch.