From: Ron aka TOPMASTER aka SILVERSTUD <topmaster@delphi.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss
Subject: An actual x-rated story from my life; have written of many
Date: Sun, 19 Jun 94 14:57:07 -0500
Organization: Delphi (info@delphi.com email, 800-695-4005 voice)
Lines: 593
Message-ID: <B2+S4gj.topmaster@delphi.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: bos1b.delphi.com

                 JUST PLAYIN' AROUND
        (a slice of the author's life story)
                   by RON DALANOR


     I like having my cock sucked, I like having my balls 
licked till they are dripping wet, I like having my ass 
rimmed till I nearly lose track of space and time, I like 
twisting, licking and chewing or a guy's tits till he begins 
leaking juice, I like the feeling of sliding my dick into a 
tight, willing mancunt, I like the sound of a guy moaning as 
I plow his hole, and, most of all, I like a guy who is 
willing to do anything to insure my satisfaction, one who is 
willing to obey my every command.
     My life in the beginning of the summer of 1976 
consisted only of work and grad school.  There really wasn't 
that much to do in Auburn, Alabama anyway.  Just as May 
turned to June, I discovered I liked having sex with men.  
The thought of my having sex with men just had never crossed 
my mind before; I thought that the sex I had been having 
with women was fully satisfying.   After some initial 
experimentation, it became very clear that I much more 
enjoyed men and dominating them sexually.  And, to boot, 
they were much more desirous and appreciative of my sexually 
dominant nature.
     I don't think you could ever say I "came out"; as 
southern as I am, I just never saw the need to discuss the 
intimate details of my sexual life with anyone, except those 
involved and my closest friends.  Unlike many, I never 
sought nor needed validation or approval about my personal 
life from others.  If it worked for me, I just didn't give a 
shit about what anyone else thought.  Guess I got that kind 
of hardcore individualism from my east Tennessee and 
Kentucky mountain ancestors.  Of course, growing up of mixed 
ancestry taught me that people could only attempt to inflict 
their values or point of view on you if you gave them the 
chance; I never did about any aspect of how I conducted my 
personal affairs.
     With no hesitation to do as I pleased and no guilt over 
what I did, you'd think that my life would have been pretty 
idyllic, and it was.  However, I made my share of mistakes.  
Perhaps, the biggest mistakes I made came out of total 
ignorance.  In those early days, all I did with men was play 
around.  It was sex and pleasure only; I thought that was 
all two men could ever have together.  Thus, for me, a lot 
of good opportunities came and went.  One of the best of 
them was Phil.
     Initially, I had no physical attraction to Phil.  Like 
far too many, I had set a silly physical agenda about what I 
desired in a man.  Luckily, the power of my sex drive soon 
taught me that an eager and willing partner was much more 
valuable and cost effective than one who had to go through 
the "pursue me mating dance".  Phil was attractive but not 
what I thought I wanted.  I preferred men who were dark, 
hairy; Phil was, at best, slightly fuzzy and blonde.  I 
preferred men who were overtly masculine as to enhance the 
thrill of dominance; Phil, though not at all feminine, was 
only subtly masculine.  On top of everything else, Phil was 
shy and not at all my intellectual equal.  We probably would 
never have gotten together except for a little pair of white 
sailor shorts.
     Phil's sister, Jenny, was one of the cocktail 
waitresses.  Jenny was a hippie wannabe.  From the crocheted 
hats and shawls to the mini-skirts, granny glasses (tinted, 
of course), and beads, she tried her best, but I always 
thought she looked better in her uniform.  She would always 
hang around the front desk for a while after the bar closed 
to chat while I did the audit.  She was as liberal in her 
thinking as she was in her dress.  She made it quite plain 
that she was interested in a roll in the hay.  However, it 
wasn't to be an ordinary roll in the hay.  She had in her 
mind a threesome between herself, her boyfriend, and me.  
Still in my exploratory stages of sexual development, the 
idea intrigued me, somewhat.  She also make it clear that 
her boyfriend, a hippie wannabe musician, and she wanted the 
same things from me.  The grand encounter between the three 
of us consisted of both of them giving me head, my fucking 
him while he ate her out, my fucking her while she sucked 
him off, and my fucking him while he fucked her.  What can I 
say; it was a memory.
     Jenny helped get her younger brother a job as a waiter 
in the restaurant, and that's where I first met him.  Phil 
was shy; he was rather boyish in his tux shirt, ass-fitting 
black pants, bow tie, and short ponytail.  Though twenty-one 
and only a couple of years younger than I, Phil seemed so 
much younger due to his childlike nature.  He was playful 
with all the customers, and he was especially good with 
families that had children.  He wasn't the brightest person 
in the world, but he was quite genuine and sincere.
     Phil would take his breaks in the office behind the 
front desk.  He'd have a cigarette and subtly flirt with me. 
All southerners - male and female, gay and straight - flirt.  
It's an unwritten law of the south; flirting is, after all, 
the third thing we learn in life.  We talk first, walk 
second, and flirt third.
     I never took Phil's flirting seriously until "Tropical 
Island Night".  It was the brainstorm of the restaurant 
manager.  She decorated the restaurant in a tropical theme 
and made the waiters and waitresses wear little nautical 
uniforms.  Phil's was all white.  White shirt, white pants, 
white socks and white shoes.  Phil wore no underwear.  This 
was the first time I looked at Phil's butt with more that 
just an appreciative eye; I wanted to get in it.  The way I 
kept looking at him whenever he came out to get clearance 
for room service orders must have tipped him off.  As he was 
getting ready to leave, he stopped by the front desk, 
reminded me that I had the next night off, offered to bring 
over Chinese food, said he like to spend the evening with me 
- longer if I wanted.  I was  almost speechless at first 
because my mind was busy bending him over the desk in the 
office and having it's way with him.  I recovered enough to 
agree. 
     The next night, Phil and I sat around eating Chinese 
carry-out and listening to James Taylor, ELO, The Four Tops, 
and the Beatles on the stereo.  As I watched him eat sitting 
cross-legged on the floor in his form fitting jeans and lime 
green tank with his sun-streaked blonde hair pulled back in 
his little ponytail, I knew that the passionate urge I had 
for him the night before had long since subsided.  As we 
chatted mindlessly, I wondered why I did not have the desire 
to bed him as I had the night before.  Phil's apparent 
shyness seemed to keep his usual flirtatious nature in 
check; thus, I was pretty sure nothing would happen.  Unless 
I felt an overwhelming desire for the guy or unless I was 
aware of the guy's overwhelming desire for me, my libido 
hibernated.  And, it seemed to be down for a long winter's 
nap.
     Phil got up from the floor with the pretense that he 
was going to clean up our mess and go to the john.  He 
grabbed one of the paper bags he had brought in with him;   
I hadn't noticed until then that it had remained unopened.  
Phil also collected the debris from our meal and stuffed it 
into another paper bag; I supposed he was going to dispose 
of the stuff on his way to the bathroom.
     When Phil came back from the bathroom, he was wearing 
the sailor-like waiter's uniform I had seen him in the night 
before.  I was double stunned into silence - stunned that he 
had changed into it (we both had the night off) and stunned 
because it was rapidly having the same effect it had on me 
the night before (there was a definite stirring in my 
briefs).
     I am sure only brief seconds passed, but I sat there 
cataloging every aspect of him.  Little by little it started 
to dawn on me that the uniform seemed to multiply his 
masculinity, and that turned me on.  It explained why an 
average looking guy in a mechanic's jumpsuit, or a plumber's 
coveralls, or a naval uniform, or a set of army fatigues, or 
a marine uniform, or a postman's uniform, or a police 
uniform, or a UPS uniform, or, in fact, almost any 
distinctive delivery man's uniform could trigger the satyr 
in me as well as why the very attractive and well groomed 
guy could not.                   
     Phil knelt down where I was sitting on the floor and 
kissed me long and hard.  His mouth sweetly tasted of soy 
sauce and cigarette smoke, and I found myself giving into 
the kiss.  I held him hard and tight and intensified the 
intimacy of the kiss.  I was trying to possess him, I wanted 
to take him fully and roughly.  Almost lost to the moment, I 
pushed him back before it was too late.
     "What's wrong?" he asked.
     "Look, you're a nice guy and all, but I don't think you 
know what you're letting yourself in for with me." I managed 
to say.
     Phil sat back, but, instead of that oft sad and 
innocent little boy look that he sported when flirting with 
me, I saw a man with determination in his eyes.
     "I'll do whatever you want, whatever you say." Phil 
said with the utmost conviction in his voice.
     The silence pushed and pulled at us both.  I stood and 
pulled him up to me.  There was little gentleness in how I 
pressed him to me, or how I raped his mouth with my tongue, 
or how I held his ass captive in my hands.  There was 
desperation in my lust for him, and nothing could halt my 
having him in every way I wanted him.
     Awkwardly and savagely we were ripping at each others 
clothes.  Unlike the porn movies you see, our clothes did 
not magically disappear.  Finally, with shirts removed, and 
my pants undone we went back into an embrace akin to that of 
a boa constrictor attempting to capture that meal of 
salvation.  My fingers caught into a hole in those white 
uniform pants of Phil's.  I ripped at it in an attempt to 
prepare an entrance way.  It did part quite easily which 
even in my fervor I thought was odd, but I needed inside him 
without caring how it was accomplished.  I probed at his 
hole which seemed strangely wet and slick.  I snagged a 
rubber from my pocket, stepped out of my shorts, tore open 
the condom, hastily put it on, pushed Phil face down onto 
the carpet, and lay on top of him.  My dick was so hard that 
it hurt from the blood pounding into it.  Without any 
fanfare, I plunged my cock into him.  He screamed, but, with 
full entry, that scream became a huge slowly fading sigh.  I 
poked fully in and out of his hole as if I were riding a 
pogo stick, and his ass rose to meet every single thrust I 
made.
     "Fuck me!  Fuck me hard!" I heard Phil yell into the 
floor.
     "Yeah, Baby, you're gonna get one mean fuckin' 
tonight!" I responded in heavy breathing gasps.
     I had never wanted to cum as quickly and as badly as I 
did at that moment, but I was far too stimulated for orgasm.  
I was into sensory overload, and it would be quite sometime 
before I got close enough to spew.  The uniform had 
triggered my excitement, but it was Phil's responsiveness 
that had thrown my libido into its super nova phase.  I had 
never been with a man who so obviously and thoroughly 
enjoyed being fucked; it was evident in every counterthrust 
he made onto my cock as well as in every moan and word he 
uttered.  I found myself biting, chewing and tasting the 
flesh of his shoulders and his neck, and his salty, sweet, 
masculine taste made me want to drive into him even deeper 
and harder.
     "Oh God!  Fuck me!  Fuck me!  Don't stop!  Fuck me!" 
Phil's voice moaned with a need as desperate as the one I 
felt.
     The olfactory mix of his sweat, his deodorant, his 
cologne, and his natural masculine scent kept me thrusting 
deep into his willing hole.  All my socialization and 
civilization had faded away; my motives were purely 
primeval.  I had to empty my load inside him, but I also had 
to leave him with a memory of this union.
     "Oh shit!  Fuck my ass!  Fuck my ass!"
     "Take my fuckin' dick, faggot!"
     "Do it to me!  You're gonna make me cum!  Fuck me 
     harder, make me cum!"
     His words brought a renewed vigor to my probing of his 
asscunt.  I poked into him as hard and as fast as I possibly 
could.  I wanted to make him cum just as I had made so many 
women reach orgasm, I wanted my dick to take him where he 
needed to go, and I wanted to feel his ass tighten on my 
cock when he got there.
     "Fuckin' dick in my ass!  You fuckin' got me!.  I'm 
      cummin', I'm cummin'!"
     "Fuckin' cum for me, bitch!  Milk my fuckin' dick!"
     Phil started shaking all over.  He sobbed, and he 
moaned.  His ass squeezed and released my dick over and over 
again.  My balls felt as if they were trying to climb out of 
the top of my head, and then it hit.  I clenched my eyes so 
tightly I saw colors, my body went rigid, and then the 
spasms of deep orgasm rummbled forward.  I just kept 
screaming "God damn!" repeatedly.  I ground into him until 
the wave of pleasure had fully dissipated.  I collapsed on 
top of him, neither of us moved, and we said nothing for 
quite some time.
     Though Phil seemed quite content, a tiny uneasiness was 
growing within me.  It was a glimmer of guilt.  I had used 
him purely for my own pleasure with little thought given to 
his needs.  As I moved to disentangle my member from him, he 
clenched at it tightly and softly moaned.  Could it be that 
Phil got as much out of this animalistic fuck as I had?  How 
could he?  How could a man enjoy receiving such brutality?  
How could I enjoy giving such brutal treatment?
     I felt awkward when I rolled off Phil, but he turned 
toward me and smiled.  He put his arms around me and kissed 
me gently, sweetly, and submissively.  Phil must have 
figured out the distressed look on my face.
     "I always wanted it that way." he said.
     "You're okay?" I asked.
     "Great!  And, I'll be even better if you use me and 
abuse me all night long." he said through the most honest 
eyes I had ever seen.
     "I'm not sure....." I began.
     "Be sure that I will do anything you order me to do, 
Sir!" he responded.
     I laid back, and Phil snuggled close to me.  I had read 
stories like this, I had heard about guys like this, but I 
never imagined this opportunity would come my way.  I mean, 
I'd been with guys who wanted their butts slapped while I 
fucked them, I'd been with guys who wanted their tits 
manhandled before and during the fuck, I'd been with guys 
who liked being forced down on my dick, I'd been with quite 
a few guys who, in general, liked me to be rough, but I had 
never before been with a guy who openly admitted he wanted 
to be my sex slave.  Part of me was scared to death, but the 
biggest part of me was burning with a life fire that had too
long been suppressed, unrealized, and undiscovered except in 
the deepest dreams and fantasies.
     My mind raced in giant ellipses as it pondered the 
possibilities.  I felt the blood surging in my temples, and, 
if it were not for my amber colored complexion, my face 
would have flushed with both anticipation as well as 
anxiety.  I could not let this chance pass me by. I took a 
deep breath, grabbed Phil by his hair, and clamped my mouth 
onto his.
     "Suck me!  Suck me hard so I can fuck that hole of 
yours some more!" I said as I pushed him down to my crotch.
     "Yes, Sir!" he responded with submissive eagerness.
     I watched him suck my condom covered cock, and my brain 
exploded with excitement.  He never questioned the order, he 
merely obeyed.  He had me semihard in no time.  And, I 
sensed he would only do what was ordered and would always 
obey.
     "Take the fuckin' rubber off!  Show me how much you 
love my dick!" I ordered.
     My dick was stripped in a flurries of finger, lip and 
tongue activity.  He licked and kissed and sucked all in an 
effort to please me.  This was hot!  I grabbed Phil by the 
hair and forced him all the way down on my rod.
     "I'm gonna teach you to suck my dick the way I like it! 
 Understand that, bitch?" I challenged.
     "Yes, sir!  I'll do anything to please you, sir!" he 
eagerly and sincerely replied.
     "I want you to go all the way up and down on my cock, 
from the tip to the base, all the way up and down, real 
slow.  I'll tell ya when to speed up.  And, keep that 
fuckin' tongue action goin'!" I explained.
     Phil complied with every little instruction.  This 
power trip I was on was driving me insane.  I had to be 
careful; he had my nuts ready to explode again.  I stepped 
away for him and starred at the puzzled look on his face.
     "If ya really want this dick, come and get it!" I 
teased.
     I held his head, keeping him at bay just inches from 
what he wanted.  He stretched his tongue for just a taste of 
my flesh, but I always made sure his attempts were in vain.  
I kept stepping away, making him crawl to get anywhere near 
my tool.
     "Please, sir!  Please let me suck your cock!  I'll do a 
good job; I'll do it anyway you like!" he pleaded.
     "Take it, bitch!" I exploded forcing it in his mouth 
and down his throat.
     Phil took the pounding I was giving his throat.  He 
slobbered, he gagged, he choked, and his eyes teared.  But, 
he never once complained; instead, he seemed to relish every 
second of my dominance over him.  I yanked Phil to his feet 
by his hair and ordered him to strip.  I pushed him down 
onto the sofa, pounced on top of him, pinned his arms down 
and began to chew at his tits.  I went easy at first, but 
the more I intensified the more he moaned and groaned in 
pleasure.  His "Oh, yeses" got louder and louder.
     "You want some more of my dick in that ass of yours, 
don't ya, bitch?"
     "Please, sir, please fuck me!"
     "Beg for it, cunt!  Make me know how much you want to 
feel my cock slide in your hole!"
     "Please, please, sir!  I need your cock!  Please I love 
your dick in my pussy!"
     "Your pussy?"
     "My asspussy belongs to you, sir!  Please rape my ass 
again!" 
     I love talking dirty to guys and making them talk dirty 
back, but this kid was wholly into this.  He was humiliating 
himself for my pleasure.  Hell, you better believe it 
worked.  I moved up and squatted over his neck to reach my 
rubbers and some lube.  He requested to lick my balls and 
ass.  Being no fool, I granted the request.  His tongue 
darted and flicked till my cock was twitching like crazy.  
You could have played follow the bouncing dick if you had 
song lyrics to run under it.  I ordered him to lube his own 
butt and put the condom on my cock.  It was only an instant 
before I had his legs in the air with my rod poised at his 
puckerhole.  I watched his ass grip and release as I rubbed 
my dick up and down his crack.
     "Please!  Please let me have it, sir!" he begged.
     I plunged forward and listened to his near scream.  We 
settled into a rough and rapid rhythm.  He was fucking back 
onto my cock as hard as I was shoving it into him.  Despite 
Phil's moaning, groaning, begging and the furious fuck pace, 
I was nowhere near to cummin'.  As hard as my throbber was 
and as much as I wanted to spill juice, I couldn't.  It had 
not been like this since the weekend with my second fiance.  
In that case, I had taken some antihistamines.  I couldn't 
get off easily or quickly, but I did fuck her into screaming 
multiples.  But, this was better, much better.  I figured 
that I'd just pound his hole for a while and then make him 
jacoff.  Phil's moaning turned into a solid sound which was 
akin to a low pitched siren.  He seemed to not breathe for a 
while and then pant for air.  His assring got tighter and 
tighter around my cock, and that, of course, made me plow 
his ass even harder.  His body went rigid.  Phil grabbed me 
around the neck and kissed me till I could barely breathe.  
I felt his cum splatter on my chest and stomach.  From out 
of what seemed like nowhere, my own orgasm came.  I felt the 
cum spasm from my cock in waves.  Each wave sent a shudder 
through my body until I had no more cum to give, and I 
collapsed in a fully spent heap.
     Thus began nearly three fully wonderful weeks of my 
life with Phil.  Phil had been playing around since he was 
sixteen, and he had found his masochistic niche.  He was 
also showing me my sadistic bent.  I'd touched my toes over 
the vanilla line a few times before I met Phil, but, with 
Phil, I was way over the line - knew it and liked it.  Phil 
was full of ideas and fantasies.  I was doing a lot more 
reacting with him than generating the action on my own.
     When I got back to my apartment from class one day, 
Phil was waiting outside for me.  I figured he wanted to go 
to dinner or something.  He told me that he had something to 
tell me.  When we got inside, he confessed that he had 
lusted after another guy that day.
     "I was bad, sir.  I had those thoughts, but I belong to 
you, sir." he stammered in a little boy voice.
     Before I could say anything, he handed me a belt, 
pulled his shorts down in the back to expose his butt, and 
laid across my lap.  He presented himself for punishment.  I 
found myself fascinated by the pale fuzziness of his butt.  
Without exactly realizing what I was doing, I had clamped my 
hand around his neck holding his head down.  I laid the belt 
aside for a bit and began lightly running my hand and 
fingers across his ass.  My touch was so light that it 
brought goose bumps to his rump as he shuddered ever so 
slightly.  I could also feel his already hard cock throb 
against my leg.  Caught up in the moment, I lashed at his 
ass until his buttcheeks were red and warm.  I ran my hand 
over them to feel the warmth, and I forced my finger inside 
to feel the heat.  I rolled Phil off my lap and onto his 
back on the floor.  I stood over him starring into his face; 
I placed my boot on his stomach and pressed an expelled 
breath from him.
     "Take off all your clothes, faggot!"
     Phil wiggled and squirmed to get out of everything but 
succeeded in doing just as I had asked.  I then placed my 
boot on his erect cock and flattened it to his stomach.  He 
grimaced in slight pain.
     "You gotta learn, son.  When you belong to me, you 
belong only to me.  You don't want to suck any cock but 
mine, and you don't want to feel any other cock in that hole 
of yours!"
     "Yes, sir!  I promise to be good, sir!"
     I forced him to his knees and brutally lubed his butt 
with only spit using my two fingers.  He moaned and pleaded 
for me to make his ass mine again.  I threw off my clothes, 
rubbered my dick and shoved into him as roughly as I could 
without really hurting him.  He screamed for the mercy of 
every deity above as I ravaged his hole with an angry lust.
     "You fuckin' cocksuckin' faggot whore!  Who do you 
belong to?" I yelled.
     "You, sir!  I'm your pussy, sir!" he managed.
     Sweat ran into my eyes and burned, and it seemed to 
drip from every part of my body.  As I changed grip areas on 
his body as I plowed into him, I felt the wetness of Phil's 
body as well.  He wasn't fucking back on my dick this time; 
it took everything he could muster just to withstand the 
throttling my dick was giving his hole.  When I felt that 
familiar gripping of his assring, I reached around and 
stroked his rod.  He came in a stream of garbled obscenities 
and pleas.  I was right behind him, and I felt my cock 
release its load.  We fell into a heap on the floor; both of 
us were clinging hard to our fantasies, to our dreams and to 
our deepening friendship.
     On several occasions, Phil led me to force him to suck 
me off in the car.  One night in particular always springs 
to mind.  We had driven out to the nearby lake to walk 
around.  It was the later part of dusk, and no one seemed to 
be around.  I sat on top of a picnic table, and Phil sat on 
the seat between my legs.  We talked for a while before Phil 
leaned back and began massaging my crotch with the back of 
his head.  He kept the gentle and intentional rubbing until 
he had me fully aroused.
     "You want it bad, don't ya, boy?" I inquired.
     "Yes, sir!  Please let me taste it, sir!" he panted.
     I hauled my dick out of my pants, made Phil turn around 
and sit facing me, and teased him by rubbing my cock all 
over his face without letting him touch it or taste it.  One 
of the things that Phil had become very adept at was sucking 
my dick.  He had perfected my instructions.  He would 
literally swallow my dick in the beginning and then slide up 
and down on it fully and slowly.  He would gradually 
increase the pace of sliding up and down on it as well as 
licking the underside with his tongue.  He could drive me 
crazy that way.  I could lay back and enjoys myself for 
hours if I wanted.  Phil would never tire or stop as long as 
he knew it pleased me.  But, on this night he did stop just 
long enough to plead his case.
     "Please, sir.  I've been a good boy.  Please let me 
taste your cum." he begged.
     I hadn't thought about it until that moment.  Phil had 
sucked me a lot, but I had never let him suck me off.  Some 
guys are fully satisfied by a blowjob, but I'm not one of 
those.  Having my dick sucked feels great, but I need to 
feel the intense hotness of fucking ass.  Thus, I pretty 
much had always considered a blowjob as foreplay more than 
anything.  However, Phil wanted to taste my load, and I had 
felt that he had more than earned the privilege.  I made 
sure my balls were outside my pants, and I relaxed back on 
my elbows in the most comfortable position I could.
     "Suck it, bitch!  Suck the cum out of my fuckin' pole!" 
I ordered.
     Phil went into a cocksucking frenzy.  He licked, he 
kissed, he nibbled, and he slobbered all up and down my 
tool.  I let euphoria take me.  All the pleasure and all the 
sensations made me feel light and floating.  Phil's hands 
moved all over me, touching, caressing and begging me to 
give in.  His finger tips stroked my balls gently.  I was 
definitely close, but I couldn't let go because it felt too 
good to let end.  However, Phil's artfulness overcame my 
resistance.  I grabbed his head and forced him all the way 
down on my dick as I began to spew.  The automatic pelvic 
thrusts sent my dick to the back of his throat as it 
finished forcing out its load.  Phil only gagged a little, 
and he held me tightly to his face.  When the spasms 
subsided, I could feel Phil still working his magic.  Like a 
soda straw at the end of the soft drink, Phil was slurping 
out every drop of cum he could.  He finally removed his 
mouth, and he squeezed and licked until the last of my juice 
was his.
     "Thank you, sir.  Thank you for letting me have your 
precious cum." he said as we regathered ourselves and headed 
for the car.
     As we slid into the car, the dome light revealed a 
large cum spot on Phil's shorts.  Satisfying me really did 
satisfy him as well.
     Though from the beginning, it was easy enough for Phil 
and I to talk and relate to each other outside our role 
playing fantasy.  Yet, it took about a week before we were 
comfortable enough to have sex of a more vanilla kind 
outside those borders.  It was really good sex, but we both 
loved the intensity of the our domination fantasy.
     One of the best and wildest sessions occurred at work, 
at the hotel.  Phil came back to the hotel after the bar 
closed.  He had brought me a box of cigars as a present.  He 
insisted that I try one.  As he lit it for me, I noticed he 
was quite aroused.  He sat in silence as I continued to do 
my work, but I was aware that he was transfixed on his cigar 
smoking partner.  Finally, temptation got the better of me.  
I walked over to where he was sitting and placed my boot in 
his crotch as I starred at him.
     "You want something, son?" I teasingly queried.
     "I'm your whore, sir.  I'll do anything you want in 
anyplace you want." he answered.
     I locked the entrances to the front desk area, set the 
switchboard to ring busy to all calls and took Phil into the 
bar.  I made him strip, and then I ordered him to fetch me a 
coke.
     "On your knees, boy!"  I commanded.
     Phil had always been swift to obey any command, and he 
wasn't slow with this one either.  I made him kneel on the 
floor in front of me as I leaned against a table, sipped my 
coke, rubbed my crotch, and took a few puffs from the cigar.  
Each time when I blew the smoke in his face, his cock bobbed 
in ecstasy.  I took my dick out and played with it, teasing 
him, tempting him.  I toyed with him that way till he began 
dripping precum.  I knew he was ready.
     "Suck it, bitch!  Get it ready for that pussy of 
yours!" I said.
     "Yes, sir!" Phil gleefully replied.
     If it could have been possible, I would have sworn that 
Phil was more eager than ever before.  He slurped my rod 
with the most sensual wetness yet.  I let him go on for a 
while, and I occasionally face fucked him to keep him from 
getting me too close to the edge.  Then I pulled him up and 
forced him backward onto the table.  I took a melting ice 
cube from my drink and worked it into his butt.  He moaned, 
so I worked in another.  Hurriedly, I slipped on a condom 
and demanded entrance into his hot-cold slippery wet hole.  
I could feel the ice cubes when I first started fucking into 
him, but they soon melted with the heat of our rutting.  
Showing so little regard for him by not even undressing for 
the blowjob and the fucking had me tremendously turned on.  
I kept the rhythm varied because I wanted to make this 
screwing last.   I would slow from time to time to take a 
sip of my coke and a drag on my stogie which I had carefully 
placed on the next table.  I would then lean forward fucking 
him deep and hard, and I would blow the cigar smoke into his 
face.  The fifth time I performed that ritual I grabbed his 
dick and squeezed.  Phil shot cum a couple of feet into the 
air and screamed at the release.  As his juice splattered on 
us both, I blew my nuts into his hole.  He thrashed, I 
thrashed, and we nearly fell to the floor.  But we held onto 
each other and enjoyed every mystical spasm.
     Being with Phil was great.  He was a great guy.  We 
were a great couple.  Sex was never dull.  Life was 
exciting, but I was in the right place at the wrong time.  
During the first week, Phil told me he loved me.  I 
responded in kind because I did love Phil as much as I 
thought one man could love another man.  By the beginning of 
week three, Phil was making life plans for us.  I remember 
the joyous expression on his face as he began to tell me 
what he envisioned our future to be.  And, I remember how 
that expression changed and saddened as I laughed at him and 
told him not to be silly.  Though I hadn't a clue, I thought 
I had all the answers about my sexuality and life.  I had 
figured that I'd mess around with men and enjoy myself until 
I found someone to fall in love with and marry.  That's the 
way I thought it was, and, so, that's what I told Phil.
     The bubble had been burst, and the fantasy was 
ruptured. We went from seeing each other everyday to seeing 
each other two or three times a week.  It then went to once 
a week, and, finally, Phil moved to Montgomery.
     Months went by before the little light bulb came on, 
and I realized what a total jerk I had been.  I hurt Phil 
without meaning to do so, and I missed out on what could 
have been a wonderful and fulfilling life with him.  I will 
always regret hurting him, but I cannot regret the rest - 
positive and negative.  For each step I have taken was 
necessary to get me to where I am today.  And, when I gaze 
into the downcast eyes of my number one "boy", the 6'9" 
ponytailed police dispatcher who loves me and will do 
anything I command to make me happy, I cannot be unhappy 
with where I am - now can I?




               ***** COPYRIGHT 1994 ******