Date: Sun, 2 Mar 2008 21:27:34 -0800 (PST)
From: Derek W <omksc@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Garden Apartment - Part 1

The Garden Apartment
By Derek W
Part 1

This story contains authoritarian themes.  If that doesn't interest you,
please move on.  Comments are appreciated; email me at omksc@yahoo.com



I wasn't sure which one of them would answer the door.  The voicemail
message had been brief, and since they'd only been living there a couple of
weeks, and sounded a little alike, I couldn't always tell them apart on the
phone.  Whoever it was had simply said there was a leak in the kitchen and
could I come down and fix it.  So here I was, tools in hand, ready to
tackle one of my first fix-up duties as a landlord.

I had bought the house two months ago, the week after my thirtieth
birthday, a modest home in an up-and-coming Brooklyn neighborhood, having
lived in one dumpy apartment after the next throughout my twenties to save
enough money.  There were two upper floors for me, and a decent-sized
two-bedroom garden apartment I had rented out.  My part was still a
work-in-progress, as I had spent what little money I had left over after
the purchase on renovating the apartment so that I could acquire the rental
income I needed to manage the mortgage as soon as possible.  It rented
fast, to two guys just out of college starting out in New York.  I gathered
they were college friends, but hadn't really gotten to know them at all.

You entered the garden apartment down a couple of stairs beneath the stoop
that led into the main part of the house, where I lived.  And it was there
I was standing, waiting for someone to respond to my knock.  After a minute
or so the door opened, and it was Danny.  Danny had shaggy blond hair,
piercing green eyes, and a California surfer vibe.  He must have been the
one who had called me.

"Hey," I said.  "I got your message," and held the toolbox up.

"Yeah, okay, good, man," he said and stepped back into the apartment.  I
followed him as he led me to the kitchen.  He was wearing faded jeans and a
plain gray T-shirt, no shoes or socks, no belt.  The T-shirt fit him
loosely, but it sort of hung off the muscles of his upper-body, which in
some way made them as prominent as a tighter shirt might have.  I watched
the curves of his strong shoulder and back muscles as I walked behind him.
The hard, rounded shape of his upper arms.  He was very well-built, but not
overly muscular like the guys taking steroids.  Clearly very strong, very
powerful, with a natural, masculine grace.

In the kitchen he pointed to under the sink.  "It's been leaking under
there.  I wiped up the water, but it's still leaking."  He reached up
behind his head and scratched the back of his neck.  This pulled his
T-shirt up, exposing a thin band of taut, tan skin just above his jeans,
and my eyes automatically went there to drink in the sight of his
well-muscled midsection.  I looked up his torso to where his bended arm was
showing off the firm, round bulge of his tricep, and just a hint of dark
armpit beneath the sleeve of his shirt.  When I looked up at his face, I
wondered if he'd noticed my gazing, and he had a bit of a smirking
expression that suggested maybe he had.

"I'll take a look," I said as I knelt down and opened the cupboard doors
beneath the sink.  There was a very slow leak, and after only a minute or
so I realized that it was from a loose nut where the piping to the
ice-maker was attached.  I tightened it, and that was that.

"All set," I said as I pulled my head out from under the sink.  "Anything
else I can do for you while I'm down here?"

When I looked back up at him he had pulled off his T-shirt.  He was leaning
back against the counter, and from down where I knelt my gaze swept him
from bottom to top.  His perfectly formed bare feet jutted out of his
jeans, which were just tight enough that I could sense the strong legs
under them.  His crotch suggested a sizable package, and his chest was
smooth and muscular.  Two wide pecs with quarter-sized nipples, and a
perfectly flat stomach, which had just a light trail of hair down its
center and disappearing into the top of his jeans.

He laughed when I said that, a kind of sneering, bemused laugh.  I realized
how it must have sounded, and said, stammering a little "I mean, you know,
while I'm down here in your apartment."

He nodded, looking down on me with a knowing glance.  "Well, I have this
awful itch in my right foot.  Why don't you scratch it for me, you know,
while you're down there."  He folded his powerful arms across his chest,
and stuck out his foot a little.  I hesitated, feeling pretty sure this
situation was getting way out of control.  But something inside of me kept
me down there, on my knees in front of him.  "Go ahead," he said, kind of
nodding and smirking at me.  "Do it."

I reached out with my hand and rubbed the side of his foot.  I had no idea
what I was doing, and I was starting to sweat.  But when I looked up and
saw this unbelievably sexy stud towering over me, my dick started to get
very hard.  "Like this?" I asked.

"Not quite.  Use both hands."  I took my other hand and scratched along the
inside of his foot.  After a few seconds he said, "Can you even see what
you're doing down there?  Lean over so you can get a good look."

I was still on my knees from being under the sink, resting my body back on
my lower legs.  When he said this, I leaned forward, put my head down
towards the floor.  He had beautiful feet.  A small amount of very light
blond hair on the top side, barely visible unless you were fairly close.  I
took a good look at his foot as I rubbed it now between my two hands.  From
the corner of my vision I could see his other foot lift up, and then a
second later I felt it against the back of my neck.  "Get down there," he
said as he pushed my face into his foot.  "Use your tongue."

My nose collided with the top of his foot.  It gave off the faintest smell,
not at all unpleasant.  In fact, the feeling of his foot on my neck and
pressing my face against his other foot sent another jolt to my cock.  But
still.  "Uh, hey, Danny," I said, mumbled really.  "Maybe uh wait a--"

"Lick it," he said sharply, cutting me off.  "Get down there and lick it."
He pushed again against the back of my head with his foot for good measure.
I reached out with my tongue and licked his foot, a good long lick from his
toes to where his foot disappeared into his jeans.  When I did he let out a
little sigh.  Whether it was from the physical sensation or from the mental
power trip of having just made me lick his foot, I wasn't sure.  And then I
gave myself over to this hot jock stud, and licked his foot ravenously.  He
lifted it up and told me to suck his toes, which I did.  He pushed it
against my face, rubbing the bottom of his foot hard all over my face.
After a minute or two, he kind of wrapped his foot around my neck and
thrust my head down to his left foot.  "Now do that one, bitch," he
demanded, and I started in sucking and licking it.

After a little while he lifted up his foot and placed it against my
forehead and gave me a firm push back.  I settled back on my knees and
looked up at him.  His shirtless body looked glorious, and I thought that
if my dick got any harder I would burst.  He had an obvious hard-on
himself, a thick tube bulging against the crotch of his jeans.

"I see what you're looking at."  Danny brought his hand down to rest at the
opening of his jeans, let it hang there as if above to graze his dick.  "Is
that what you want?" he asked, staring hard into my eyes.  I just looked up
at him.  "Huh?" he asked again, "is that what you want," and then, after a
brief pause, "cocksucker?"

No one had ever called me that before, and he'd said it in such a sneering
and disdainful tone of voice, but at that moment I felt like my sole
purpose in life was to be Danny's cocksucker.  My mouth
watered--literally--and I knelt forward and reached for the button on his
jeans.

But he threw my hands away, hard.  "Whoa, cocksucker!  I didn't say you
could do that.  You don't put your hands on my body like that unless I tell
you to.  IF I tell you to."  He bit off the word "If" hard, and I was
confused and startled, suddenly worried that I might not get to suck his
cock which, of course, I had thought about since the day he and his
roommate Jake first came by to look at the apartment.  "Let's get a couple
of things straight.  If you're going to be my personal cocksucker, you need
to understand that I call the shots.  You got that?"

I nodded eagerly.  His personal cocksucker?  Was that what I was going to
be?

"Close your eyes," Danny said to me.  I thought about it, for maybe a
second, and then I closed them.  I'm sure it was only a few seconds that I
stayed like that, kneeling before him with my eyes closed, unsure what was
going to happen, but it felt like forever.  I heard him move a little,
maybe the sound of denim rubbing, but I couldn't be sure what it was.  And
then, all at once, as I took a breath I breathed in the scent of his cock.
A masculine, heady smell, a little sweaty, and that odor that can only come
from a man's crotch.  It intoxicated me.  I wanted to open my eyes and see
what was right in front of my face but I didn't.  I breathed in the
delicious smell of him and waited.

Then I felt the head of his dick bang hard against my cheek.  Startled, I
opened my eyes, and there before me was the most beautiful, hard cut cock,
held tightly in his strong hand.  "You opened your eyes, bitch," he said
and slapped his cock hard against my face.

"I'm sorry," I said.  "It just happened."

He started slapping his cock over and over on my cheek.  Suddenly he
shouted, "How many times should I dickslap you, bitch?"

"What?  I don't know..."

Again he shouted, "how many times?"

I have no idea why, but without thinking I said "Twenty."

Then he grabbed me by the hair and turned my head to the side and continued
hitting me in the face with his cock.  Against my forehead, my eyes, my
nose, my mouth, my cheeks.  After a few seconds he said, "Are you
counting?"  I hadn't been, and so I started counting the slaps.  When I got
to about ten, he said, "Count them out loud, you stupid cocksucker."

Jesus.  "Ten, eleven..."

"No, you have to start counting out loud at one," he said.  And gave me an
extra hard dickslap across the side of my face.  So I counted them out
loud, each time the firm shaft of his cock connected with my skin.  When I
got to about fifteen, he started hitting my in the mouth exclusively,
against my lips and tongue, so that my numbers were muffled.  "It's hard to
understand what you're saying, cocksucker," he said.  "How will I know when
we get to twenty?"  I just kept counting out loud, and then at twenty he
stopped.  I was surprised, thinking he would keep going with the excuse
that he couldn't understand what I was saying.  But instead he just stepped
back.  His dick was jutting out from his open jeans and for the first time
I could get a good view of the whole package.  It was large, kind of fat,
probably a good seven to eight inches long.  He had two big, low-hanging
balls dangling enticingly.  The whole area was surrounded by a modest
dusting of blond hair, which I guessed he trimmed to keep it tidy. Like the
rest of him, his physical endowment was virtual perfection.

By now I was practically a puddle of unrestrainable desire.  The
dickslapping hadn't hurt at all, but with each pound of his cock against my
face it was as if he were imprinting its impression on me, marking my face
as the personal playground for his dick.  And my own dick received the
message loud and clear.  It was all I could do to not just undo my pants,
grab my cock, and start jerking it like mad.

"Okay, cocksucker," Danny said, leaning back against the counter and again
folding his arms against his chest.  "Blow me."

I leaned in and nuzzled my face into his crotch, his cock rubbing against
my cheek and his balls against my chin.  I stuck out my tongue and gave it
a good lick.  It tasted delicious, and I licked him up and down, paying
special attention to the sensitive spot just under the head.  When he'd had
a good licking, I rose up and engulfed the head, closing my lips around his
dick for the first time and sucking it into my mouth.  I felt the thick,
juicy head invade my mouth, moving all around in there as if checking out
its new home, as if it owned the place.  I lavished attention on his dick
and reached up and started to fondle his balls.  "No hands," he said, and I
felt him pull my wrists off him.  Then his hands were on the back of my
head, holding me steady as he gave a firm thrust of his cock into my mouth.
Though only a little more than the head was in my mouth, I wasn't prepared
for the sudden jerking motion and sputtered and gagged a little.  His cock
slipped out.  "Oh, come on, cocksucker," he said.  "That was nothing.  You
hardly even had my dick in your mouth."  He placed a hand tightly against
my neck.  "I plan on getting the tip of my cock all the way down here in
your throat."  With the other hand he slapped my face with his dick a
couple more times as I caught my breath.  "Okay, bitch, time for you to get
face-fucked."

He pushed his cock into my mouth and again grabbed the back of my head with
both hands.  He started slowly at first, a steady fucking rhythm pushing
his cock into my mouth and then pulling out again, holding my head tight
between his hands so that he could perfectly control how much of his cock
he had thrust inside my face.  He kept it up, back and forth, me taking
little gasps of breath whenever I could.  The head of his cock always
stayed in my mouth, as he would force the shaft in over and over, a little
more each time.  But still not all the way, despite what he had said
earlier.  He was only stuffing about half of his cock into my mouth at this
point, but it was with such an intense and relentless power I was starting
to feel almost overcome.  I reached up and grabbed the backs of his upper
legs, my hands taking hold of his firm, muscular legs for balance.  "Get
your hands off me, cocksucker," he said immediately, not breaking stride in
his fucking motion at all.  I dropped them to my sides.

I felt him start to tense up.  He slid his hands forward to grab my head on
both sides, and all at once I felt a huge shot of cum blast against the
back of my throat.  I gagged a little from the volume of it, but then
quickly swallowed it down.  He pulled out a little, leaving just the head
in my mouth as more cum shot out, hosing the top and sides of my mouth.
Then his dick plopped out, a last burst of cum landing across my cheek.
Danny leaned back, spent.  I swallowed the last bits of his cum, reached
out with my tongue for the trail that was dripping off my face.

He looked down towards the floor.  Some cum had landed on his foot.  He
looked at me, hard, and then at his foot, which he moved towards me.  He
didn't need to say it.  I bent way over and licked the last delicious drops
of his cum from his perfect foot.

"Good cocksucker," he said.  Then Danny stood up straight, and grabbed his
softening dick.  He leaned over towards me, and said, "Open your mouth,
bitch."  I knelt there, mouth open.  He squeezed his cock and one final
pearly drop of cum bubbled out.  I reached out my tongue to lick it off him
but he pulled away.  "Um, no, actually.  Close your cocksucking mouth."  I
did, and then Danny leaned in again and wiped his dick on my upper lip,
depositing that last drop of cum right at the entrance to my nose.  The
smell of it was strong, a vital, powerful odor that totally overtook me.
After he'd finished, he took his dick, glistening from his cum and my
saliva, and dried it off against my hair.  Then he walked out of the
kitchen, his jeans still open.  I heard the door to his bedroom close, and
I knelt there for a moment, reflecting on what had happened, in a kind of
bewildered bliss.  Then I gathered up my tools, and quietly made my way
out.



Comments, suggestions, feedback welcome.  Please email me at
omksc@yahoo.com