Date: Mon, 21 Nov 2011 18:18:05 -0800 (PST)
From: CJDenton <mcitywriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Clayton's Acquisition

--<*<Clayton's Acquisition>*>--
- Authoritarian, eventually.

Clayton Hendrix must have thought I was either a total dumbass or a
disinterested punk; staring down shyly at the holes in my converse that
matched the holes in my jeans and the hole in the gray t-shirt I'd someday
grow in to. But here I was to receive his "mentoring." Something my tenth
grade counselor made me go to after I'd been beat up for the third time
this year. This time they were kind enough to spell out my problems using a
marker on my cheeks. "Cocksucker" written across my face like an ad stunt
by the time the gym coach made his way over to me to see what all the noise
was about in the locker room.

Mr. Rorvik, the counselor, handed me a tub of baby wipes and turned to make
some calls. It wouldn't have normally warranted such attention, but some
gay on the northside who had been bullied brought a gun to school last
month. So now we were all marked code red. Anyways, so now on Fridays, I
got the afternoon off from school so long as I walked the three blocks to
the blue line and headed downtown to meet with my new mentor, someone who
was supposed to guide me past my troubled teen existence as a poverty
stricken gay white kid trapped in a southside majority cholo high school.

So this afternoon I'd hiked it past the hookers on Whitney Pkwy. and down
to the train then up 75 floors to Mr. Hendrix' firm. It had a big glass
door with his name etched into it and expensive prints of happy looking
people on the walls. I waited twenty minutes with his secretary who had
brought me a cup of juice... really? juice? I knew this was going to suck,
but an afternoon out of school was worth whatever loser Mr. Rorvik wanted
to parade in to my life.

Finally he stepped out of his office. Clayton Hendrix, well over six feet,
olive skin, black hair gelled for success, a suit that probably cost three
times the rent my uncle usually avoided paying on the tiny efficiency we
shared. Clayton Hendrix, the kind of masculinity and confidence you don't
usually find outside tv action heroes.

He looked down at me and his soft pink lips curved up in to a smirk,
electric green eyes appraising the disheveled young queerling he was
supposed to spend his charity hours on. I felt like a soup kitchen, a
second hand pile of donation items. I quickly looked down at my shoes until
he called my name.

"You must be Tarrant, is that right? TARE-ent?" He smiled down at me,
putting a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Y-yes, um, yeah....sir.... Mr. ... Hendrix." I stammered as I got to my
feet, almost a foot shorter than him.

"Clay, call me Clay…. for now," he said, "What do your friends call
you?"

"Um...my dad called me Tare." I said softly, with the undertones that I
certainly didn't have a friend to make that assessment.

"Right....Tare, Ok, let's go get you some lunch." He put his hand on my
shoulder and softly pushed me towards the door.

And now here we were, a fancy sidewalk cafe on Ripley Square. I remembered
this plaza because it was the last place my dad took me. I was six and we
took the bus uptown to watch the bats fly out from under the Luna bridge at
sunset to feed on mosquitos for the evening. A week later the gas station
he worked at was robbed, he was never one to go down without a fight.

I must have looked distracted, Mr. Hendrix... Clay, stopped in mid sentence
on some story of how different things were when he graduated high school
twelve years ago.

"Look... Tare, I know you probably don't want to be here and I know it's
really hard right now for you to see how you'll ever get through high
school or find people who know what you're going through, but you can talk
to me about anything. I know it sounds cliche, but it does get better," he
said and then laughed, "Ok that wasn't meant to sound that cliche."

I smiled at that. I looked up, he stared so intently at me. I'd never seen
that gaze. The look that went right through me, like a spotlight, like
anything I would say right now would really be listened to and important.

"That smile," he paused, "you're going to break a lot of hearts with that
smile," cheesy but effective. He leaned in to me, putting his arm across
the back of my chair.  I blushed, then took a sip of cherry coke to hide
it.

And we talked, I'd never had anyone listen like that or care or ask
questions that probed past the point of making sure I wasn't going to kill
myself or take out a government class. We talked through lunch, then talked
through a long walk around the Katterin district and made it back to his
office as the last of the sun was going down. I don't think either of us
realized the time. Every time I finished some long rant or story, he'd ask
another question, soaking it all in like I was someone important; like I
mattered.

His office had cleared out for the day and I found my backpack resting on a
chair in his office. He gathered a few black leather notebooks and packed
them along with a laptop into his case.

"Well, thanks Mr.... um Clay," I said, taking my backpack and heading for
the door.

"Woah, hey, Tare" he started as I walked away. "I'll give you a ride
home. The train's not safe this late. Especially not in...." he trailed
off, not wanting to offend.

"Oh uh..." I suddenly remembered who I was and where I lived. I know it
sounds stupid, I mean he was there to mentor a hood kid and all, but I
suddenly thought that if he actually saw how poor I was he'd realize just
how not special I really was. "I ahh, I'm good, not going far!"

"No!" he called with an authority that stopped me in my tracks.  "You're in
my care until you get home safely. Ellis, er... 'Mr. Rorvick' as you call
him said I was supposed to send you home by 4 and it's 8:30. Your family
must be worried."

Hmm, my family. If my uncle was home, he was drunk by now and sharing
cigarettes with the neighbor talking about how badly life had treated
them. He wasn't abusive or even mean, just kind of a whiner who'd never
done much with his life. That was another sight I didn't want Clay to
encounter.... But he put his hand on my shoulder, like a dad would do and
guided me towards the elevator.

Clay tried to cover his apprehension as his Range Rover glided down the
patchy roads of my neighborhood; sighing uneasily at each red light that
stopped us. I sat happily in a warm leather seat, resting my arm next to
his on the center console watching the hookers eye us jealously. He rolled
to a stop outside the three unit building that had unlikely seen better
days. The third door was ours. I'm pretty sure at some point it had been a
garage, the whole building was dark and eerily silent.

I tried to quickly say goodbye and hop out, but he turned the engine off
and grabbed my arm pulling me back into the car, insisting on joining me in
my perilous walk to the door. I dug my keys out of my backpack and he
followed me. The door was ajar to the dark apartment. Not like we had
anything to take.

"How many people live here?" Clay asked with more than a hint of disgust as
I flicked on the light to show an old couch, a mattress in the corner, a
small kitchenette and a small bathroom just behind the card table we
sometimes ate at. "No, Tare, this... no... and where is your family?"

"My Uncle probably got paid, must be down at the bar. He'll come back
Sunday when he's broke. He's rarely here on weekends when he has a
job... or unemployment," I dismissed with a laugh.

"No..." he exhaled, putting his fist up to his mouth with a pensive
sigh. He thought for a minute and then shook his head again. "Get some
clothes together and whatever you need. I'll leave him a note and he can
call when he gets back. I can't leave a boy alone in.... this. This is
bad."

A boy? I thought. Something inside me liked the sound of it.

I started to protest, to point out that we didn't have a phone, but his
confidence returned and he found an old pizza box and a marker and began to
write. I knew I should have told him no, but the thought of climbing back
into his warm leather world where gay people had respect and privilege
seemed a better alternative than hiding out waiting for my uncle to come
home, pretending the gunshots were fireworks. I stuffed the few shirts and
the sweatshirt and the stuffed turtle I'd hugged every night as my world
had crumbled around me into my backpack just as Clay was attempting to find
a clean spot on the couch to sit and wait.

Within the hour, we were in a new and beautiful world a few miles on the
other side of the skyline. He drove confidently down familiar twisty roads
up in the hills, through a security gate and up a steep road that ended in
a small circle with a huge spreading oak in the middle of it. Three modern
houses, separated by large, immaculate yards, clung to the hillside around
the cul-de-sac. Clay pulled in to the last one and in to an oversized
garage with an empty spot between a convertible and a large pick-up
truck. The door slid down noiselessly behind us and Clay grabbed my
backpack.

His house was beautiful, large, dark, masculine leather furniture. Not a
single flower or shade of femininity in the place. The biggest tv I'd ever
seen hung over a huge stone fireplace. The back of the house was all glass,
giving a spectacular view of the millions of glittering lights of the city,
all the way to the other side of the valley. My deceased mother's voice
popped into my head saying, "Don't touch anything!"

I stopped too long to take everything in because Clay put his hand in the
small of my back and guided me through the living room and past a twelve
foot tall warrior statue down a staircase to the lower level. He opened a
door to a small guest bedroom with a double bed, dresser, flat screen tv on
the wall and another doorway to a bathroom. He flicked on the lights and
pointed at the shower and toilet and pantry with towels; naming them as if
I'd never seen such things. He set my backpack on the bed and said I could
take a shower and get into my pajamas if i wanted.

"I'll go upstairs and make some cocoa while you get cleaned up," he said
and then turned me to face him, his hands on my shoulders, eyes staring
down at me with concern, "Don't worry Tare, I'm sure we'll get in touch
with your uncle, we'll get this sorted."

I wasn't worried and I knew my uncle wouldn't be either. But this
beautiful, powerful man had taken an interest in me and that was completely
foreign to me. He left and I took a quick shower, sampling each and every
name brand product in the tub. I toweled off and walked around the room
naked, turning the lights off since the huge windows didn't leave much
privacy. I fished some semi clean briefs out of my bag and a questionable
shirt. I had clean gym shorts since I had gotten to skip gym this
afternoon.

Back up the stairs found Clay stretched out on the couch. He'd changed too
and his thin white tank top and small shorts exposed a beautifully sculpted
physique. I caught a soft smatter of chest hair across his pecs as he sat
up and stretched, smiling at me. He'd turned on the fireplace and had two
cups of cocoa set on the coffee table as he flipped through the sports
channels.

"You like baseball?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," I lied, never having watched a game, but I settled in next to
him as he prattled on about what players were doing what and so on. I tried
to keep up, but eventually a yawn betrayed me. He paused and laughed, the
jig was up. He pulled a soft blanket from a drawer in the coffee table and
whisked it over me. I slid over and leaned against a hard muscular arm and
he lifted it up, pulling me in to his side, pushing my head against his
chest. I yawned again as the game he was watching went in to overtime or
over innings or something like that. He softly stroked my head, eliciting
more yawns and soon my last blink as his warmth overtook me.

I woke up some time later as I felt his hands hook under my shoulders and
he easily lifted me up into his chest. I settled my head into his shoulder.

"Tare?" he whispered to see if he'd awoken me. But I kept my mouth shut,
except for a small sigh and settled into him. He carried me downstairs
again and paused at the door of the guest room. "no no no," I screamed
silently in my thoughts.

He pushed open the door and walked in but didn't set me down. Instead he
balanced me on one arm and I heard my backpack unzip. He fished something
out and then carried me back in to the hallway.

Clay carried me down to another door and opened it with his semi free
hand. He laid me down against a soft comforter, slipped off my jeans,
covered me under the warm comforter and then put the stuffed turtle I'd
packed in-between my arms. I hugged it and rolled over as Clay went about
getting himself ready for bed.

I peeked open one eye and saw him slide out of his shirt in the dim light
of a lamp across the room. He slipped off his shorts and paused to fold
them leaving him in only a pair of grey boxers with a sizable bulge in the
front. He flicked off the lamp and crept back over to the bed, easing in
next to me. He laid on his side, propped on an arm, staring down at me. I
snapped my eye closed and felt a hand rest on top of my head, it slid down
slowly, caressing my cheek with his thumb. "Beautiful," he whispered to
himself.

He took his hand back and laid down next to me and inched a little
closer. I rolled over towards him and my head came to rest on his chest, my
arm slid across his abs. He slipped an arm around me and I felt his lips
kiss my hair. For the first time, I really understood my attraction to
guys. It wasn't just sneaking a look at a cock in the locker room (probably
what had gotten me beat up the first time), but the warmth and protection
another guy could offer. I felt safe in his bed.

                                             ************Saturday*****************

The morning crept up over the mountains and across the bed. I kept my eyes
closed, feeling a soft heartbeat against my ear. I was afraid to move,
afraid he'd disappear and the heartbeat was really my alarm clock sending
me back to a Monday morning full of being invisible or targeted. But it was
Saturday and the strong arm that held me tightly against a warm warrior
wasn't letting me go. I was ok with this, delighted with this, for a few
minutes until I realized I desperately needed to piss.

I tried to wiggle out from his embrace, but he snored lightly and held on
firmly. This was not good.

"I... um... Mister... Clay," I whispered, trying to wake him just enough to
let me up. I finally tried it again a little louder.

"Yeah Huh? What?" Clay awoke with a start.

"I um... have to um... restroom." I said weakly.

"Oh, heh, yeah." He let me go and rolled over.

I took care of needs and returned to find him on his side, hugging the
pillow where I'd been; The stuffed turtle tucked against his chest. I
decided to explore a little and went to get dressed, pulling on another
worn tshirt and the jeans from yesterday.

I went further down the hall and discovered another downward
staircase. This level was one big room. One side had an office and the
other had every piece of gym equipment a man could want. There was a small
bathroom and a closet of workout stuff and a few filing cabinets.

The large glass windows along one side had a sliding door in the middle
that led out to a patio that wrapped around to a pool nestled into the
hillside. On the other side was a big stone bar with a built in grill and a
table with six chairs around it. A low metal railing separated the patio
from the steep hillside that led down to the less fortunate people.

The wind had picked up and the temperatures had dropped over night casting
gray clouds over the city below. I leaned against the railing and just
stared down, trying for the longest time to find my neighborhood. Surely
people up here wouldn't be bothered with such unsightly things. I shivered
a little, and as if on queue, a warm pair of arms slipped around me,
gripping the rail on either side of me. I felt soft lips against my ear and
a nibble of teeth on my lobe. I shivered again, this time from his touch.

"Morning, Tare... how's my boy?" It was the first time he called me his boy
and the last time he called me by my given name. I leaned back against his
bare chest, closing my eyes as his touch became more important than the
view. His arms slipped around my waist, a hand rubbed up my tummy, inside
my shirt. "You're so thin, let's get some breakfast in my boy."

Clay put on some clothes and asked if I wanted to change before we went out
for breakfast. I looked down, blushing, as I admitted this was all I
had. "We'll get you some new things," he promised, hooking a finger under
my chin and lifting it towards him. New things, that was something I'd
never had.

He slipped on a leather jacket and then fished around in his closet for a
minute, bringing out a sweatshirt that said "Reiken Park Rugby," a local
prep school. It was too big for me, but he said it was the smallest he had
and hadn't worn it since high school.

We climbed in to his pick up truck, another place with dark leather and a
zillion gadgets. He coasted down through the hills and in to the city, down
clean streets.

Three stores later, we'd filled the backseat of the truck with bags. I'd
left my old jeans, tshirt and briefs in a trashcan outside store number
two. He'd chosen the clothes with a little help from the store guys who
knew him by name and seemed to have fun making me try on nearly half the
inventory. I started to feel uncomfortable after the first store when he
simply handed the sales guy his credit card without ever going to a
register or seeing a price. In Store two, I left wearing a blue addidas
jock with jeans (it's weird to feel your ass against denim) and a light
blue long sleeve henley with a soft pair of red suede pumas.

Finally we ended the block at a small salon where another friend of his
worked. The gayest man I'd ever met whisked me off to a chair while he and
Clay debated what should be done with my hair. I realized I hadn't made a
decision since taking a tshirt out of my backpack this morning. They
settled on chopping off most of my light blonde hair and leaving enough on
top to make some messy spikes. He said it brought out the blue of my eyes
and gave "depth" to my pale skin, whatever the hell that meant.

At nearly lunchtime, we made it to the breakfast place. Clay ordered a
bunch of food. I picked at the fruit plate but he kept insisting I try a
little of the omelet and bacon he'd ordered. I normally ate the free cereal
bars they gave out in the morning to kids walking in the door at my school
and then the free PB&J sandwich the cafeteria gave out for kids who
couldn't afford to buy lunch. My body wasn't used to real food or fat, but
he wasn't really open for negotiation.

After brunch, we went to one more store where he bought me running shoes
and workout clothes and a pair of flannel pants with some sports team logo
on them. He never once mentioned checking to see if my uncle had called.

Back at the house, he carried most of the bags down to his bedroom, leaving
me with the shoebox for my new trainers to follow him. He set the bags in
the closet and started to organize the clothes into an empty corner of his
cavernous closet. He pulled out the workout shorts and a sleeveless extra
small muscle shirt. I didn't really have a chest to show off, but he
thought it would look cute on me.

"Go ahead and put these on and we'll head down to the gym." he said without
a hint of question. He handed them to me and stood back, waiting to see how
they'd look. I fidgeted for a minute, I'd never really gotten naked in
front of anyone. At school, I'd changed in a bathroom stall before and
after gym, avoiding the showers.

"Oh," he laughed, "Ok, I'll go change too." he left me alone and went
around the corner to get his own gym clothes. I quickly changed, then
peeked around the corner, disappointed to find him already pulling on his
shorts. He skipped the shirt and slid on his nikes and then looked around
for me. I felt goofy in the form fitting sleeveless shirt; a thin, silky,
white fabric. He nodded approvingly as I laced up my new shoes.

We went down to the gym and he put me on the treadmill, setting it at a
light run and then he turned on some dancey music and went to his
weights. I ran along, watching him huff and puff, flex and stretch. He
obviously did this quite often. After he'd finished, he came over and
stopped my treadmill and then led me to the weight bench.

"Oh uh I... I've," I started.

"Really? I couldn't tell," he joked, "Cmon, I got ya." he patted the bench
and I laid down. He took all of the weights off the bar and stood over me,
his shorts brushing against my forehead. He lowered it down to me and I put
my hands up, trying to hold it. He eased it down against my chest and
that's where it stayed, well, almost stayed. I couldn't quite hold on to it
and it slipped off to the right. He grabbed it quickly and lifted it up on
to the support frames. He thought for a minute and then went to a closet in
the corner and brought back a smaller, lighter bar. This time I lifted it,
not far but enough to bring an approving smile.

"There we go, baby, soon you'll get the regular one." He guided me through
several lifts until my chest burned and my arms ached slightly. The rest of
the weight machines were easier and could be adjusted for me. I was a
sweaty red mess when we finished. Clay was his usual adonis form, with a
mist of sweat across him.

We finished up and he saw how sore I was from my first adventure in
health. We headed back up to his bedroom and into a large bathroom I hadn't
seen yet. A bathtub that could easily hold a family of six was in one
corner, next to a glass enclosed walk in shower area with four water heads
mounted in different areas. He turned on three different water heads in the
tub and slid his shorts down and stepped out of them. Clay apparently
didn't use a jockstrap when he worked out. A large soft cock hung down
between two golf ball sized nuts with a light dusting of hair. I stared. I
couldn't help it. He wasn't embarrassed in the least.

"Cmon, the water will make your muscles feel better and heal stronger," he
said gently.

"Um, huh," I squirmed. Clay came over to me and rubbed my arms gently. I
winced at his touch. "It's ok baby," he whispered down to me. He kissed my
forehead and then my cheek, his hand sliding down to the bottom of my
shirt. He slid it up slowly and then up and off my arms.

I looked up at his intent stare. "I got you baby," he said and his hands
slipped down to the waistband of my shorts, slipping them down a
little. His hands found my ass and then slid down my legs, taking the
shorts with them. They fell to my feet.

Clay leaned in and kissed me on the lips, soft but aggressive. His lips bit
lightly at mine. A chill waved through me and I surrendered to him as his
hands slipped the jockstrap down and off. He lifted me up in to him, our
warm sweaty bodies rubbing together. He stepped over to the tub and sat
down, positioning me between his legs, turning me around so my back was
against his chest.

The warm water did its job on my achy body as Clay rubbed soap over my
chest. He nibbled at my ears as he playfully soaped circles around my
nipples. His teeth rubbed down the side of my neck and he bit softly on my
shoulder. His hands worked their way down my tummy, I closed my eyes and
relaxed but inhaled sharply as one hand gripped my cock. It was rock hard
and poled proudly at it's full six inches. He must have thought it was tiny
compared to what he had, but he massaged it with respect.

"Mmmm," I bit my lip softly, "I... yeah…. uh huh..."

"You like that boy?" a deep voice growled just below my ear.

"Y-yes sir," I said instinctively relaxing and laying back against his
heart beat.

I felt the familiar sensation every teenage boy knows when he's about to
cum well before fully enjoying the experience.

"I'm... gonna..." I said in between heavy breaths.

"Yeah, cum for daddy," Clay whispered encouragingly into my ear. "Come for
me baby, come for daddy."

My chest tensed up, breathing stopped, back arched and I started to spray
my chest with cum as my chest jerked tensely.

"Oh shit," Clay reared back as I shot him in the face, "Fuck yeah," he
laughed as a second volley caught him on the ear. I laughed too, body still
jerking in pleasure. That's a weird combination.

"Ahhh, fuhhhh!" I jerked out a few more spurts as his hands slid up and
around my waist. We laid there, me breathing heavily as Clay gingerly
rubbed the cum around my tummy.

"Oh um, mess." I said when I recovered. Clay laughed, "It was worth it." He
kissed the side of my cheek and grabbed the soap, cleaning me all over
again.

I leaned forward so he could soap up my back and that's when I felt the
huge hard cock sandwiched between my ass.

"Woah," I said, scooting forward and turning around. His cock was rock hard
and a good 9 or 10 inches (I'm not good at comparing sizes), but it was
nearly twice the size and thickness of my own.

"Come here, let me finish cleaning you," Clayton pulled me back to him. He
rubbed the soap down and around my cock, under my nuts and down towards my
hole. I jumped a little when his finger brushed over it.

He held me firmly with one arm while his other went between my legs. He let
go of the soap and began to trace a finger around my hole. I wiggled when
it got too close. I'd never had anything in there. His finger began to
probe gently at my hole, pushing it in and twisting his finger lightly.

"Damn, that's tight," he whispered, "you never play with it?"

"No... sir, never," I blushed at the topic.

"That's good, it's more fun that way," Clay whispered, kissing down my
neck, distracting me from the soapy finger trying to work its way inside
me. He got the tip in and then let it stay for a minute as his other hand
turned my head to the side so our lips met.

His finger began to wiggle slowly, tracing the ring from the inside as his
tongue worked its way past my lips. My cock was rock hard again. It bounced
up to my tummy and flexed each time he worked his finger in a little
deeper. His tongue wrestled mine inside my mouth. I felt completely
defeated, but safe in his arms, reassured by his kiss.

And then he stopped, "Cmon, let's finish up in here." He quickly soaped me
up and then cleaned himself. We finished up in the tub and then dried off
with a big, soft towel. We padded across his room and he pulled me down
onto the bed. He pulled me on top of him and then flipped me over so I was
pinned beneath him. He leaned in and kissed me roughly, then gave a sweet
peck to my nose.

"You're adorable, baby," he praised, "Now flip over."

I did as told and he pushed me up the bed, my head against a pillow. He
parted my legs and then did something I'd never heard of, he buried his
face between my cheeks and I felt his warm, wet tongue work its way into my
hole. My first thought was, "Gross."

"Um... uh... Ohh!" It quickly hit me, I don't know what happened, but he
hit the spot and my body responded. "Ohhhh UHHHH OHHMMM FUHHH DADDDDYYYYY!"

"Yeah that's my boy," Clay praised, raising his head momentarily. He
quickly went back to work, tonguing slow deliberate circles around the spot
that drove me wild. My cock poled up again at full mast, forgetting it had
recently erupted, it slithered up between my tummy and the comforter.

He pulled his tongue out when I said I was about to cum again, flipped me
over and pushed my legs up and over. I secured them behind my arms, giving
him full exposure to the hole he was doing awesome work on. He stared up at
me from between my legs. Clay was a pro at this new world. I stared down
dopily at him, raggedly gasping for air, not caring how stupid I must have
looked.

He kissed over to my thigh and then up and around my cock, then up my chest
and nibbled playfully on my sensitive nipples. He kissed his way up to my
shoulder, then up my neck, across my cheek and back to my lips. He pinned
me down as he tongue wrestled me and I felt his hard shaft pressing against
my hole.

Oh shit, was he planning on putting that inside me? He backed off me for a
minute and stared down at my face, reading my concern.

He gripped his cock and put the tip against my hole and then pressed it a
little. "Not today baby, You'll need a lot more work before we get to
that," he laughed.

Clay pushed up onto his knees and arched his back in a stretch, his proud
full cock falling between his legs. I reached up and took it, pumping his
hard shaft a few times. He took my hand away and gripped his cock proudly,
giving me a come and take it smile.

I crawled over on all fours and looked up at him with expectant eyes. He
pushed up and touched the tip of his cock to my lips before tracing it
around my mouth. I opened my lips and my tongue found his tip, the first
cock I'd ever tasted. I felt a hand grab my hair and he pulled my head back
gently so our eyes met. He traced a thumb down my face and then put it to
my lips. His thumb pushed into my mouth and I sucked at it, bringing a
smirk to his face.

Clay took his thumb out and rubbed a ring of spit around my lips. He wiped
the rest along his shaft as he gave it a pump and put it back to my lips. I
started to put my tongue out to suck it, but as soon as I opened my mouth,
he shoved in the first three inches of his thick cock. I opened wide to
accommodate it, feeling a little stuffed. Clay rubbed the back of my hair,
encouraging me to take more. His thumb massaged my jaw, prodding it to open
wider.

I took another inch or so before it hit my reflex, making me jerk back, but
his hand held my head in place as he started to slowly slide in and out a
bit.

"Breathe through your nose baby, go slow, you can take it," he
encouraged. I nodded with my eyes, not having full control over my head.

"Yeah baby, take daddy's cock," he prodded, sliding more of his cock in and
out of my mouth. I tongued around his shaft, feeling uncomfortable every
time he got a little too far in. I wanted to make him proud, prove I was
worth the money he'd spent, the attention he'd given.

It got a little easier. He barely got half his cock in my mouth, but I
think I did ok for my first time because soon he pulled out of my mouth and
shot across my chest. A few thick, hot white stripes sprayed across me as
his body rocked and jerked, his breathing heavy as his proud eyes looked
down over me. I smiled up at him, biting my lip and stretching my achy jaw.

"Fuck yeah, baby, ohhh yeah," he praised, exhaling sharply. He knelt in
front of me, sitting back on his heels as he recovered his breath. He
leaned in for a kiss and then swiped a finger across my chest to bring a
sample of his seed to my lips. I sucked his finger into my mouth, quickly
swallowing his offering.

"That's my boy," he smiled, then kissed my forehead proudly.

We took a quick shower and then I got to go through the clothes he had
picked out. Clay was seriously in to jocks on boys. He'd bought me straps
in every color; red, green, yellow, black, blue, gray, even two pink
ones. He laughed when I held those up.

"Sometimes I just need a good pussyboy," he laughed, rubbing a warm hand
over my bare ass. "You'll get there."

I thought about what that meant. How long was he planning on me being here?
What would happen tomorrow when I had to go home? Or monday when I had to
go to school? Would I get to keep the clothes? I shrugged it off. "Don't
ruin this, Tare," I told myself, "Enjoy right now."

I pulled on the yellow one and then a long-sleeve warm shirt and the
flannel sleep pants. I padded up to the kitchen to find Clay making salads
and grilled chicken with some kind of sweet dressing on it. He made a
smaller bowl for me and we spent the evening on the couch watching dumb
comedies until I fell asleep against his chest.

By Sunday afternoon, I was worried. Clay left for a few hours to catch up
on some work at his office. He left me to workout and then had a list of
cleaning for me to do. He came back about 5 and sat me down to lay out
rules of how our week would go.

"But, I... I'm going home today?" I asked cautiously.

"I don't think that environment is safe for you. You're here now," Clay
said dismissively.

"But what about my uncle?" I pushed. Clay looked a little annoyed at that.

"I had a talk with him and we agreed you would be better off here. I gave
him some money to help out and I'll give him more every few weeks and he
signed a few simple guardianship forms." Clay sounded a little annoyed to
have to explain this to me.

"Oh, but…" I started to ask about school but Clay held up a hand to
silence me. He put his hand on the back of my head and rubbed my hair
lightly.

"Do you really want to go back to that? That's no way for a boy to grow
up. You're here for right now, but you can go back anytime you want. Just
say the word," He softened; the first hint of insecurity I'd heard from
him.

"I can stay here?" I said, the wonder of it all hitting me
suddenly. Safety, clothes, no cold nights on a mattress or getting pushed
around and beaten at school. I took a minute to soak it in.

"I knew when Ellis (Mr. Rorvik the counselor) told me about you that you
needed a mentor. When I saw you, I knew what you needed. I can give that to
you, baby. If you want to be my boy, I'll give you the daddy you need."
Clay said with a little more authority.

I bit my lip for a minute and then nodded. Clay leaned in to me and kissed
me softly, rubbing my back soothingly.

"Ok then. Well let's get to the rules," Clay began, standing up and pushing
away from the table. He motioned for me to follow and then began to walk
towards the downward stairs.

"You will live here and finish high school, then we'll decide on what kind
of college is right for you. You'll take your classes on the computer down
in the office while I'm out for the morning." He led me down to the lowest
level with the office and gym set up.

"Everything you need while I'm out is down here. You'll stay down here
until I return, doing your workout, schoolwork, cleaning up down
here. There's water in the mini fridge and protein bars in the cabinet. You
will not leave this area while I'm out of the house." Clay turned to where
the stairs ended by the office and slid a panel out from the wall that
covered the access to upstairs.

"This locks from the other side. If there's a fire or earthquake, you go
out the sliding doors to the patio and there's a stone path down the hill
to a safe area to wait for me. You will have five hours to do a full
workout and all of your school work, mondays through fridays. I work here
from home in the afternoons so you'll be finished with everything by then
and ready to clean the upstairs while I work."

Woah, I thought, this seemed like a crazy set up. I'd never been locked in
anywhere. He showed me a small bathroom down there that I'd use during the
morning and then he slid the panel back into the wall and we went to the
bedroom level.

"There's four bedrooms and three bathrooms here. You'll keep every last one
of them looking spotless. I did have a cleaning gay who comes once a week,
but I think it's something you can handle." He toured me around showing me
how he liked things done and where to find cleaning supplies in the third
bedroom closet.

When he'd finished with the last level, he checked his phone for the time,
"Ok let's get you cleaned up."

I opened my mouth to ask why, but he put a finger to my lips, "My boy
doesn't ask questions. Know you'll always be where I want you, doing what I
say and you'll never have to worry."

I nodded and followed him to the shower.

He picked out a gray long-sleeve t-shirt with a pink polo over it and one
of the nice pairs of jeans he'd gotten me. I gelled my blonde hair into
"messy spikes" that the stylist guy had shown me how to do. Clay wore a
nice pair of jeans with a white button up shirt and blue sport coat.

We ended up back in the city, a curbside valet stand in front of a big
black gate that opened to an outdoor restaurant with no artificial
lighting. The entire place was awash in torches, candles, lanterns. The
waiter led us through a tightly packed area of small tables crowded with a
mixed bag of the city's wealthiest young gays.

Clay walked just behind me, hand at my back guiding me through the
crowd. We ended up near the center at a larger, less crowded table with six
guys who looked to be around Clay's income and lifestyle group. They
stopped their conversation when we approached.

Clay ignored their stares and pulled out a chair for me in a corner of the
table, away from the appraising eyes.

"So I missed the adoption fair?" One of them joked.

"He's adorable! I want one!" laughed another.

"Nope, all mine," Clay laughed and slid his arm around me to show that
things were ok. Eventually they stopped staring except for occasional looks
that quickly turned when they caught my eye.

The conversation turned to other things. I didn't get their jokes or
references. I did get Clay staring down at me, almost watching my every
move. He'd smile when I looked up at him as I wondered what I'd done to
deserve the vigilance.

I don't think I said a word the whole evening. I picked at the fancy salad
of strange vegetables I couldn't name. All the while I processed how
completely my world had changed in the last two days. Where would this go
and how long would I keep his attention?

I didn't realize how cold it had turned as we'd sat through dinner until
Clay nudged me, slipped his coat around me and pulled me back in to his
chest.

"You're shivering baby, are you ok?"

"Yes sir," I nodded slowly, "I am..."

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