Date: Fri, 14 Sep 2007 12:59:25 -0700 (PDT)
From: Morpheus Rose <morpheus.rose@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mr. Walkowski

I had been mowing Mr. Walkowski's lawn for years now but this was the first
time he had ever invited me in.  I had just killed the lawn mowers engine
and was loading it back up onto my truck (somehow, even though this was the
summer before my sophomore year in college I was still mowing lawns for
money - go figure) when he walked over to me.

	"Sure is hot today. Why don't you come inside?" He said.  Then he
turned and walked back into the house. I stared at his big broad shoulders
as he walked away. Um, okay, I thought to myself.  Mr. Walkowski has never
been one to shoot the shit. When he first hired me, he shook my fifteen
year-old hand and then briefly described how he wanted his yard mowed. Then
he walked back into his house and came out again only when I was done with
my check. He would occasionally ask about school but there was always this
professionalism with him, even when he was being casual with me.

The problem always was, though, I had trouble saying anything back to him.
He was so hot.  He had wide, muscular shoulders, with beautiful bicep arms
and a back that tapers to a trim waste. His chest was developed with a bit
of hair and below were abs that were slightly obscured by his stomach.  He
had thick dark brown hair, flecked with grey and sharp, probing blue
eyes. I always managed to cover, but I was so powerfully attracted to him
that my brain truly had difficulty functioning.

	I followed him into his house. It was sparsely furnished but
tastefully done in subdued colors.  He indicated I should sit at the
kitchen table and he poured me a glass of water. I drank it gratefully.  He
stood behind me and unsure of what was going on, I kept slowly sipping the
water.

	"I asked you in here," he began, "to talk about what you want."

	Danger. I didn't know what to say, was this some sort of weird
interview? Then I suddenly felt his two warm hands on my neck. I
immediately tensed up and then slowly relaxed as he rubbed my neck muscles.

	"Yet I see that you are full of fear." As if to accent that he
reached one of his hands forward and wrapped it firmly around my neck.
Then he released and sat in the chair next to me, looking me straight in
the eye.  The room went still.

	"What do you want?" he asked me.

	"A car and good grades?" I replied.  He gave a minute shake of his
handsome head. "Josh, you've mowed my lawn for four years.  Almost every
month I watched you, this kid, mow my lawn.  I've seen the way you look at
me. Now you're not a kid anymore. I know what I want. The question is: what
do you want ... from me?" He repeated.

           I was trapped. I couldn't pull myself away from his tractor-beam
gaze and I felt something rise up from deep inside of me. What did he want
from me? What did I want from him? Oh, but I knew that. I knew what I
wanted from him. I'd known it every since I felt his hand grasp mine that
very first time. Something that I never thought I would say or acknowledge.
And then somehow, independent of my will, I heard my voice say:

	"I really want you to fuck me."

	Silence.

	His expression was unreadable.  He leaned forward.  The gap between
us shrunk so that now all I could see were his eyes and all I could feel
was his breath and the heat radiating him.

	"I know baby boy." He said. Then he kissed me. His lips were soft
and powerful at the same time. They sucked on my lower lip, then pressed on
mine and drew me into his.  I reached up so I wouldn't flail about and put
my hand on his shoulder. It was warm and solid and filled my grasp. I
pulled myself into him and he wrapped his strong arms around me. He pulled
me up on my feet as he stood up and then kissed me on my cheeks, on my
forehead, on my ears and on my eyes. He snaked one hand down to fondle the
mounds of my ass. He pushed on my ass to grind his crotch into mine. Then
he pulled back and looked at me and said

	"You are a beautiful young man."

	Then he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder and carried me
into his bedroom.  He tossed me onto the bed and then pounced on top of
me. At last I could feel that delicious weight of him. I spread my legs and
wrapped them around him. He rubbed himself up and down on me, burying his
face in to my neck. I clutched his back, his arms, and the tops of his
tight bubble butt. His cock was like a lead pipe churning into my upper
thigh.  I reached down one hand to grasp it. It was huge. A cudgel made of
rock. Kind of like mine.

	We were finally stripped, I got to see him in all his manly glory
and there I was in mine. He reached down and rolled me on my side. And
gently started to lube my ass. The pressure down there, as he ran his
fingers in circles around and around my pucker felt so yummy. I started
wiggling my butt in response. Then he finally pushed a finger into me and
something strange happened. I got a little less turned on.  He gently
worked a second finger in and I felt uncomfortable. By his third finger I
didn't like it all.  He laid me on my back and said, "Are you ready baby?"
and he positioned the tip of his cock head at the entrance to my anus. I
shouted out

	"Wait, stop!" He stopped and rubbed my legs.

	"Why?" he asked.

	"It doesn't feel good." I said. He just looked at me.

	"Why not?" He asked again. Fuck him, I thought, frustrated, I don't
know why it doesn't feel good, it just doesn't, even though this is exactly
what I've wanted for four years.

	"Joshua, tell me why." He repeated, this time stroking my hair.

	"I'm afraid it's going to hurt." I said, the words not wanting to
come out.

	"It may, the pain will subside and then you'll feel good. All you
have to do is relax and trust me."

	"No!" I said, the word ripping out of me.  He looked up at
me. "Josh," he said, "tell me the real reason why it doesn't feel good." I
suddenly felt very vulnerable, lying there prone and naked with this hulk
of a man above me.

	"I'm afraid to get fucked," I began and my fucking eyes got watery,
but I kept going; the words tore my chest open, "because it will make me
girly. I don't want to be your bitch or anyone's. I hate that I want to get
fucked b/c I hate feeling weak and girly."

	He didn't speak at first, just kept gently stroking my chest. Then
he looked in my eyes.

	"Listen, you're gay, like me. You have a feminine side." He said.

I squirmed, but he just nodded.  "This feminine side is wonderful - we
somehow get taught by this stupid society that being feminine is a bad
thing - but it's great, it allows to think and feel in so many different
ways.  It helps us love and it makes you strong and resilient. Just because
you have a feminine side doesn't mean you're weaker than anyone else,
you're a strong, loving guy."

	"But I hate myself for being weak." My insides were all wadded
tight like a ball of aluminum. The last thing I wanted to do was unravel
them.  He looked at me again with that expression that was paradoxically
blank yet somehow compassionate and said:

	"Let it go." He stroked the inside of my legs, my balls, my
cock. He caressed the ripples of my abs and tweaked my nipples. Then,
lastly, he put one hand by my cheek and rubbed the back of my head.  We
looked at each other for minutes, and then, oddly, I nodded.  He aimed the
tip of his cock and pushed at my sphincter.  He pushed slowly, ever so
slowly. It felt like a warm pressure, relentlessly going into me, somehow
my body found ways to keep stretching and accommodating it.  I liked it, it
felt like all the unexplained wet dreams I'd ever had - good but different
from the feelings I get from my cock.

	Then he pushed in through the outer ring and hit a wall.  As if
outside of my control I spasmed and clenched my ass tightly.  He held my
sides and made eye contact with me.

	"Let me in." He said softly. "Let me in, baby." My ass blossomed
and he slipped in farther, carrying that pressure deeper inside of me.  It
felt warm and hot, I felt it in the back of my head, like a fever ache. I
sucked in my breath and clenched again. My eyes were closed and I felt his
fingers on my jaw, massaging it.  "Relax baby, let me in." He spoke to
me. "Relax, baby, trust me." I didn't even realize I was grinding my teeth
until I stopped. I took a deep breath and looked at him. "It's me,
Mr. Walkowski, Joshua. Let me in baby." The stillness of those words, their
meaning, soaked me beneath my skin. I smiled. Then I felt it.  His massive
tree root of a cock slid all the way into me.  It wasn't an invasion; it
was the completion of a circuit.  His pubic hair mingled with me.

	He smiled at me. I don't think I'd ever seen his smile before it
changed his entire face.  Then he winked "Hey sexy baby." He said. The
unbearable pressure disappeared and I laughed back.  Then he pulled on his
cock and then pushed and suddenly I came alive down there.

	"Oh my God!" I said. It was that deep resonating pleasure inside of
me - like waves of hot dripping goodness.

	"You like that baby?" he asked. I did, I really fucking did. He
began to increase his rhythm, jolting my prostate every time he touched it
and I stayed as loose and receptive as a goose.

	"Mr. Walkowski, slide that monster into me!"  He started to pump me
faster and faster. This was it, this was my dessert. "Oh baby," he kept
chanting like it was a mantra. "Oh baby."

	I could not fucking believe it. There was nothing I could do but
ride that tidal wave cock. "Do it to me baby!" I shouted. I groaned. I
writhed - my arms were writhing about - there was nothing to hold on to -
there was nothing to do, except to just feel it. Oh baby.  I dove into it
and let go. I felt it build. It was independent of me, like I was on the
sidelines watching the coming storm, but I knew I was about fall through
the floor and shoot through the sky.

"Ah man, Mr. Walkowski, Fuck me, baby! Fuck me harder!"  He bent over and
scooped me in his arms. He ploughed my ass.  Oh baby. I wrapped myself
around him and he dug his face into my neck, licking and shouting and
moaning - it was beyond him also. Then finally three quick jabs with his
hips - I came on the second one. I shot all over myself. My eyes rolled
back in my head and all I could do was scream and hold on to him and hoped
that I would come back down. I felt him cum inside my ass, one of his arms
smashed my hips into his while his crotch spasmed again and again into
mine.

	Then it was over. For the longest time we lay there, him on top of
me, crunched together.  All I could feel was the beating of my heart. All I
could hear was the him breathing raggedly into my ear. Then slowly, ever so
slowly, I came back to me and he came back to him. We were able to
disengage and rolled slightly to my side. Then it was lot's of kisses. The
most wonderful, sweaty, tender kisses all over my face, his neck.

	He drew a lazy line down from my neck into a circle around my
chest.  I finally recovered the ability to speak.

	"That was," I paused, gathering my thoughts, "the fucking hottest
psychotherapy ever."

	He laughed and laughed and jumped on top of me and kissed me again.
His dick started to twitch in between my legs.

	"Mr. Walkowski," I whispered, "I have wanted to have sex with you
in your kitchen, on your lawn in your shower, in my room" He smiled
again. The most glorious thing.

	"We have all summer." He said.