Date: Mon, 2 Mar 2015 17:03:40 -0700
From: Ken Duxbury <kenduxbury52@gmail.com>
Subject: His Twin, Authoritarian

This story is being written as I am starting to come full circle in life.
It involves legal, consent aged men, with titles (such as Sir/boy) denoting
Dominant or submissive persons.  SOME of the names have been changed, as to
protect identities of the guys that I know will read this.  Some haven't,
as I doubt it really matters.  As for the events: Some of it is absolute
truth.  Some of it is fantasy.  Some of it is the truth with sugar
frosting.  Some of it is happening now, and some of it has happened in the
past.  Some of it has not and will not happen.  That, I shed tears over,
but such is life.  This isn't just for the reader's enjoyment, it's for my
enjoyment as well.  I'm finally having the time of my life again after so
many years, and a word of advice to younger readers: accept who you are.
If you're just an average run of the mill gay guy, be happy with that and
be happy with life.  It's who you are.  If you're a Dominant Alpha Male, be
happy with that.  If you're a submissive male, be happy with that.  Again,
that's who you are.  Don't waste your life worrying about what your friends
and family will think.  If they love you, they won't care.  Recognize
yourself early.  Trust me, when you reach your middle age, you will not
have a regret if you do.  This work is not to be recreated or copied
without approval from me, the author, Kenneth P Duxbury, and the usual
legal mumbo jumbo applies – if you are not 18 or it is illegal to read
adult erotica where you live, close this out now, etc.

His Twin

PRELUDE

	My name is Ken.  I look in the mirror now days, and I see the same
face that has been staring back for the past 20 years.  Give or take some
facial hair, gray hair, and one or two extra lines.  I'm a handsome guy, I
won't bullshit, but I'm not stuck on myself.  Looks aren't everything.  I
did some modeling down south a number of years ago and decided it wasn't
for me.  Too much drugs, too little sleep, and my coworkers were about as
vapid and conceited as could be.  Definitely not me.
	My skin tone is a dark olive.  Most people think I'm Italian (I am
not however; English with just enough Native American to give my white boy
features a splash of exotic).  I take good care of myself, I go to the gym
7 days a week, have for years, although honestly I've never been able to
gain much mass.  I stay the same body wise; nice, proportionate, small
waist however that runs into a relatively large bubble butt, 6'4", toned
and defined.  I have been called "lithe" on quite a few occasions, but I'm
not quite that skinny.  A full head of black, straight hair.  Not much in
the way of body hair either.  A bit around my nipples, no "glory trail",
normal amount of pubic hair, smooth back and ass and hole, and a light
dusting of hair on my lower legs and forearms, and hairless feet.  And
then, the huge brown eyes.  Puppy dog style, framed by very long and
lustrous eyelashes.  Not feminine in my opinion...just very accentuated
masculine.  A lot of women tell me they would kill for my eyelashes.  My
junk isn't something to really be proud of.  Flaccid I'm 1 inch.  Hard, my
cock is under average length and thickness, and about average sized balls.
I always made the excuse "I'm a grower, not a shower."  While it was true,
I never mentioned it just didn't get much bigger.  But I know how to use
it, and actually have never had many complaints, save for the guys that
laughed at it.

GARY

	I was in the US Air Force, 91 – 95.  I served overseas, after a
brief boot camp and technical school stint in the states. I arrived at my
base in England, an 18 year old nearly hyperventilating from culture shock.
My "sponsor" from the base didn't greet me at Heathrow as he was supposed
to.  Oh well.  I'm not entirely stupid, and at least they speak English.
	It was disconcerting riding in a vehicle on the opposite side of
the road that I was used to.  We got out of the heavily populated areas,
weaving around round-abouts (I would learn later that stop signs are pretty
much non-existent in England) as the bus never stopped.  The English
countryside was stunningly beautiful.  Green for as far as I could see once
the bus had left the populated areas.  The day was pleasantly sunny, or so
the old woman I was sitting next to told me.
	I asked her if it was often foggy, and she nodded.  She had a very
pale complexion, which I surveyed the other passengers of the bus, noting
they were more or less the same.  She asked me where I was from and I told
her.  She smiled and said that she hoped I enjoyed her country, and that I
would find the people to be warm and accepting.  She was right, as I would
find out.  I decided then to try my best to embrace the culture and accept
the differences.
	I found my way to base, of course, and after checking in with my
new Master Sergeant, got settled in my room, and there was a knock at my
door.  I open it, and there stood a guy, probably a couple years older than
me, wearing nothing but white board shorts, very well-muscled body, smiling
with an outstretched hand.  I shook it as he spoke.
 	"Hi!  Are you Ken?"
 	"Yes."
 	"Hi, my name is Gary.  Can I come in?"
	 "Umm...I was unpac..."
	And he strode right on past.  I stood there for a few moments, a
little surprised and agitated from the intrusion, but figured oh well.
Roll with it.  I didn't know anyone there yet, and maybe it wouldn't hurt
to make an acquaintance.  "Sure." I mumbled, as I shut my door.  Gary:
"Look, one of my friends was supposed to be your sponsor and pick you up at
the airport.  He got drunk last night, and he's still sleeping it off..."
	"Well, isn't that thoughtful of him?"  I said, a slight tone of
irritation in my voice.  I looked at Gary again, and a queasy feeling hit
my stomach once again.  His full head of hair, mousy brown and wavy, cut in
a traditional air force cut (that is to say, professional and clean), big
green eyes, kind of cocky half grin, muscular upper body, bit of hair
leading down into the waistband of his shorts...  I shook my head and
thought what the hell are you doing?
	He stood there with the half smile on his face for a minute or so,
just looking directly in my eyes.  Staring.  Penetrating.  I tried to match
the stare, but eventually had to look away.
	"Look, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to be rude.  I was kind of
pissed...they told me someone would be waiting for me, but no one was..."
(story of my life) "...I had a hell of a time trying to find out where the
fuck I was going..."  I stammered, still trying to keep my eyes off him.
He was making me feel something I always ran away from.  It was like I was
back in the locker room in high school, trying not to look at the other
boys.
	"Nah, don't worry about it."  I looked up and those green eyes were
still boring into me.  "But, remember that I'm not the one that stood you
up."  Strange choice of words, I thought.  "So, you're from Montana?"  I
nodded.  "I hear it's beautiful there.  I'm from New York City."  That
caught my interest.  I always wanted to hear about big cities, and had even
visited one.  So I started asking him questions about it, anything that
could come to mind, what it was like growing up there, going to school, on
and on.  He seemed to be happy entertaining my questions.  But didn't go
overboard with information either.  He just kept staring while talking.

	I was busy unpacking my underwear, which were scattered on my bed,
when Gary barged in.  I started taking out my shirts from the suitcase, as
he wandered over to my bed and picked up a pair of black, semi sheer string
bikinis.  I looked up, saw them hanging off his finger doing a slight
twirl, and had to have turned every shade of red possible.  Annoyed, I
reached over and snatched them off his fingertip, but said nothing.
	"Hey, look, I didn't mean to be rude.  They just
looked...interesting."  My face was pointed down at my suitcase, still felt
hot, and then I felt an erection starting to grow.  What.  The.  Fuck.  I
didn't like this at all.
	"Yeah, ok, whatever.  So, I've got a lot of unpacking to do..."  I
said as I stood up and looked slightly down at him.  He was probably about
6', I guessed.  "And I'm really tired from the flight and trying to get
myself to a base that was 2 hours away from the airport, so...?"  Not
really wanting to be rude, I let it kind of linger.
	"Whatever dude.  I'll leave you to your unpacking.  And you seem
like you need a little nap."  He said it like a parent would their bratty
kid.  "When you wake up in a better mood, come over to my room, 217, 4
doors down.  We can go get something to eat in Shefford.  I know some good
restaurants.  Later."
	He didn't wait for a response, just opened the door, walked out and
closed the door kind of hard.  I just stood there...looking down at the
black sheer Brazilian cut bikini he was toying with, my face still flush,
and with a noticeable tent in my shorts and a wet spot at the tip of the
tent.  I didn't realize it until then.  What the fuck was going on?
	You need to understand where I came from.  There is a lot that I
won't tell.  A lot that I have never told anyone.  We all need our secrets,
and I have dealt with mine.  But, I digress.  My father was the rough and
tough cowboy type.  Real asshole, and to be honest as lazy as they came.
My mother, being a hard worker, supported the whole family (just her, me
and him at that time) on her lone salary, while he toyed with his "horse
ranch".  I still don't speak to my biological father; I have little use for
someone that just coasts along on his wife's apron strings.  Anyway, I have
a lot of respect for my mother in many things.  One of them is not her
rampant, evangelical attitude towards religion.  So, on top of being raised
with the expectation of being the emotionless "strong man" type cowboy, I
also had the bible crammed down my throat for 18 years of my life.  I was
so deep in the closet back then I was sniffing last year's socks.  I
wouldn't even admit it to myself.  The feelings I was having were
"unnatural" and "hedonistic" and "evil".  I just laugh to myself now days,
wondering how I could have possibly been so stupid.  But, then again, I've
never been the smartest guy around.  I try, definitely, but I'm not so big
as to not be able to admit I come up relatively short in the brains
department.  But.  It's ok.  That's who I am, after all.  Trying is more
important sometimes than succeeding.  Remember that, kids.  Seriously.
Back to the `rents.  They got divorced just before I started high school.
Which was fine by me.  I did cry.  Only because I was thankful he was gone.
Sounds mean?  Oh well.  When a man literally kicks you, hits your head on a
regular basis, and tells you you're nothing but a pile of shit (really),
that person tends to loose favor in your heart.  Mom remarried a couple
years later and had another son with her new husband.  19 years separated
us, and many miles, but I felt as though I knew him (and come to find out
later he DID know me).  Though all of this, I'm surprised, looking back on
it, that I ever came out of the closet to begin with.  The gay closet, that
is.  We will get to the other closet later.  Suffice it to say coming out
wasn't easy.  I fought myself on so many things, for so long.  But,
finally, 3 weeks after having met Gary, my attraction for men became
evident.
	I had turned down all requests by him, and a few from his friends,
to join them in this or that activity.  We only chatted infrequently at
work, where I couldn't avoid him.  He would ask me about home, what life
was like before enlisting, all the normal stuff.  Whenever I asked him a
question, and IF I did get an answer it would be vague or noncommittal at
best.  I would see Gary out and about on the base.  Every time I would stop
and stare if he wasn't looking my way.  Then my dick would start to harden
up.  I caught myself breathing kind of hard one time, just looking at him,
thinking he's really attractive.  Then I chastised myself, promising to say
extra prayers that night for the bad thoughts I was having.
	Finally, one day, I was woken up by knocking on my door.  I had a
hell of a hangover (it was legal to drink in the UK at the age of 18, and I
did so...often).  I jumped up out of bed, adjusted myself in the red bikini
I had passed out in, and cracked open my door.  Gary, once again, just
barged right in.  I said a "Well, come in why don't you?"  He didn't find
that amusing, grabbed me by my shoulders, and forced me to sit on my bed.
Then he spoke.
	"Ok, listen you little dicked cock tease.  I saw you out last
night.  I wanted to talk to you, but you were just as drunk as could be.
So we're going to have that talk now, and I don't give a shit how bad your
head hurts.  I'm going to speak.  You're going to listen."
	I sat there, completely taken off guard.  And in my still somewhat
drunken stupor, I did as he said.
	"One question.  Are you gay?"
	"Fuck no.  Not even remotely, dude."
	"Ok, that's going to make the rest of this hard for you then."
	"Dude, I'm strai..."
	He slapped my face hard, a hand over my mouth.  Then continued.
"Look, Ken, I know what it must have been like for you growing up.  But,
you're going to have to admit it to yourself sooner or later.  You're gay.
There's no shame in that.  I know you get hard when you see me around base.
I know about the little wet spots on your uniform.  Fuck, you're wet now.
And look at that tiny cock!!!!!!!  It's like a couple Vienna sausages
trying to imitate a sequoia, leaking fuck juice all over!  You think anyone
wants to get fucked by that?"
	"It's not that small..."  I tried to interject.
	He laughed, then continued.  "I know that your breathing gets
rapid.  I know you want me.  You just need to know it yourself.  Stop being
such a fucking douche bag coward.  You are who you are, be proud of that!"
	He stopped his tirade at that point.  I was on the verge of tears,
his hand moving away from my mouth.  I was starting to shake, and I pulled
my legs up on my bed, hugging them into my chest.  I just simply said "Get
out."
	"Fine.  But.  This Friday, I'm having a party in the TV room on the
third floor.  You will be there.  You will be wearing those cute little
khaki shorts that make your ass look so fuckable, flip flops, and a tight t
shirt.  Under it, those sexy little black bikinis.  Also, go to the BX and
get a Fleet Enema 4 pack.  At 5, use one bottle. Then after that one is
done, use another.  Just follow the instructions.  Oh.  Very Important.  No
jacking off till we talk Friday.  I will know if you do."  I tried to
interject, but he wouldn't have it.  "I'm not asking.  Either you have your
ass there by 8pm or I'm talking to the C.O. about your gawking and wet
spots and little tiny hardons.  ALL of it.  Do as I'm telling you, and this
is staying between us.  You don't have a choice, bitch.  Now get yourself
cleaned up.  It smells like feet and ass in here."  He put his hands on the
sides of my face, bent over and roughly kissed me, forcing his tongue in my
mouth, biting my lips.  If there was such a thing as mouth on mouth rape,
this was it.  "Do what I tell you, and everything will be fine."  With that
said, he opened the door, marched out, and slammed it behind him.
	I was so shaken up I actually jumped when he slammed the door, not
looking at him, just lying there on my bed, hugging my legs into me,
staring out my window at a tree slightly swaying in the wind, and started
to sob as I felt a steel hard erection and a wet spot on my tight little
underwear, feeling the truth of his words in my heart.

THE PARTY

	Time went by quick.  I was desperately horny for the couple days
leading up to the party.  I actually did as he said and hadn't jacked off.
I was kind of proud of that, really.  But it had been torturous, even
though time seemed to whiz by.  Then, thankfully, it was 5 pm on Friday,
and there I was reading the instructions on the enema package.  I followed
them, finding that it actually didn't feel bad.  I used the second one, and
noticed nothing came out.  I hoped that was normal, then showered, shaved,
brushed my teeth, then back to my room to get dressed.  I dressed exactly
as he had said; slipping the black sheer undies up, noticing how the seat
covered only half of my cheeks and the sheer material exposed my already
hard little cock.  I slipped a black tight t shirt on, and pulled up my
knee length khaki shorts (which were so worn and washed out you could see
the black undies outlined under, as they hugged my bubble butt).
	Then, for an added a splash of taste, I put on some of the
expensive Channel Egoiste Platinum cologne I had picked up at the duty free
shops in the airport while waiting for the sponsor that never arrived.
This took a while, and I was fidgeting and fussing over my choice of t
shirts and flip flops to wear, which extended the whole ordeal.  Finally, I
looked at myself in my wall mirror, and actually thought I looked kind of
good.  I liked the colors together, and seeing a faint outline of the
skimpy underwear through the faded khaki material made my dick jump a bit.
I looked somewhat preppy, with my hair teased up slightly.  My stomach was
in knots over it all, but my image boosted my confidence a bit.  Why was I
getting so worked up over this I asked myself?  I'm preening myself like a
bitch.  It took forever with all the fussing and I looked at the clock and
it read 7:50.  Ok, I thought, 10 minutes early, gotta just go and get this
over with.
	I made my way up to the TV and rec room, and walked in.  Gary was
nowhere to be seen so I went over to a cooler that I suspected might have
some beer in it.  As I bent over to fish a beer out, *slap* went a hand on
my ass.  I jerked up and almost threw the beer, turned around and there was
Gary, smiling.
	"I'm glad you came Ken.  And yes, help yourself."  He said, still
not having removed his hand from my buttock.  I looked around nervously,
but he said "Don't be so uptight man.  Everyone knows about me.  It's all
cool, and everyone keeps these kinds of things on the down low.  No one
would rat me out to Major, and if you stop being such an uptight bitch, no
one is going to rat you out either."
	"What are you throwing this party for?"  I asked, slightly less
nervous after taking a couple sips of beer.
	"Why, you, of course.  This is your coming out party, ken."  He
smiled.  Funny thing is, his smile was warm and sincere.
	My eyes bulged out.  "Man, I told you, I'm not gay."
	"Stop fighting it Ken.  Think about it man.  You get hard looking
at me.  Fuck, you even get wet looking at me.  Most gay men don't get wet
from looking at another guy.  Let me ask you a couple questions before
people start getting here, ok?  And if, after you answer honestly, I think
I might have been wrong, then you will be free to leave.  Cool?"  I nodded
quickly and got a smirk.  But I would be honest.
	"Do you get hard looking at me?"  I couldn't fight it.
	"Yes, I suppose..."
	"Do you admit that you lose precum when looking at me?"
	I looked down at the front of my khakis, my cock only partially
stiff behind the thin fabrics, and sure enough.  "Yes."  I sighed.  The
smirk disappeared.
	"What happens..."  And he put his arms around me, not roughly, but
gently, maybe not to scare me?  I don't know.  Then he leaned in.  Opened
his mouth.  I couldn't fight it.  I did the same.  It felt natural.  He
locked his lips on mine.  His tongue was so gently pushing mine, and then
he sucked my tongue in his mouth.  We stayed locked in that passionate kiss
for a long time.  My eyes, which were wide open with fear to begin with,
slowly closed.  It felt so good and so right.  At one point I went limp,
and Gary pushed me back up against the wall, never breaking that amazing,
electrifying lip lock.  His hands were roaming my body, tearing at my
nipples, caressing my thighs and abs, then reaching back around an kneeding
my ass checks roughly.  I was panting through my nose, moaning in his
mouth, shaking with feelings I never had before.  I had chills and heat
waves running rampant throughout my body, and he broke the kiss, but only
to plant his mouth on my neck and start nibbling and kissing all over.
This went on for what felt like hours but was probably less than half an
hour.  He moved up to my ear lobes.  Nibble, suck, bite, lick, chew.  I was
starting to really pant and moan.  Fuck it felt good.  Then his tented out
trousers brushed my tented out trouser.  And bang, just that touch, while
he was chewing on my ears and neck, was all it took.  I almost screamed,
but he planted a hand over my mouth, and all that came out was a muffled
"Mmmmmmphhhhhh..." as I had an orgasm.  I felt it wet down my shorts and
undies.  I smelled cum.  I was in heaven.  He slowed his kissing, until he
finally leaned back, still holding me (actually supporting me, I had no
strength in my legs), and finished his question.
	"...when I do that?"

	I couldn't answer.  I looked into those green eyes, and I knew.  I
was most certainly gay.  I had some tears well up in my eyes, but I wasn't
actually sad.  I felt free, after a long life of being in the darkest room
of the darkest house on the darkest planet in the darkest galaxy, I finally
saw colors and light, I was free.  It took me a minute, all the while he
stood there.  His strong muscles keeping me upright.  Finally, I had the
courage to speak.
	"Gary...I never knew...I'm so sorry..."
	"I know, baby boy, I know."  He smiled as he said that, and gave me
one last, light kiss on the mouth.  He looked down at my spot and giggled,
kind of naughtily, and looked up at me with mischief in his eyes.  "I hope
that happens a lot.  But let's get you cleaned up before people get here."
	The party started.  I knew I had a big wet spot on the front of
me...but for some reason I didn't care.  People either didn't notice, or
didn't care either.  Maybe they knew Gary had planned and hoped for that.
Maybe it was a common thing for gay guys.  I don't know.  It was all so new
to me.  What mattered is that I didn't care.  And neither did Gary.  He
spent the entire evening with his arm draped over my shoulder.  This person
or that person would come over and congratulate me on finally coming out.
We were all a little drunk after a few hours.  The party seemed to go on
forever, and the coolers never seemed to run down much on beer.  I didn't
get very drunk that night for some reason, however.  And neither did Gary.
I got pleasantly tipsy and just held it.  Someone had brought a bottle of
tequila toward the end, to which Gary and I did a couple shots each of.
Then, as people were still having fun, Gary slipped me out and down to his
room.
	We were in his room, frantically tearing our clothes off, him
completely tearing up and off my khakis, pulling my t shirt above my head
and on my arms, but stopping before pulling it off.  The, gently, he
maneuvered my arms around my back, midway up, and gently twisted the t
shirt several times until it was tight on my wrists, and my arms were
immobilized.
	"Do you trust me?"
	"Yes, but what..."
	"Then trust me.  Don't talk, just trust that I need to do this and
will not ever harm you.  OK?"
	"Ok..." and quickly added "I'm a virgin, Gary..."
	He flashed a wicked smile and "I know, now hush."
	The tequila shots had done their magic, my inhibitions gone, and
Gary's somewhat domineering manner completely turning me on, I did what he
asked and just trusted him.  He pulled the seat of my Brazilian cuts aside
(which wasn't hard...there's not that much covering anything with that
cut...might as well just wear a thong), exposing my hole, then gently laid
me on my chest on his bed, pulling my ass up and making me arch my back,
spreading my knees.  "Stay like that.  I want your cock and balls not
touching anything so you can last as long as possible."  It was an order,
kind of like when a superior officer would just bluntly tell you to do
something, without saying `and that's an order'.
	And then he laid on top of me, his pelvic area raised up just like
mine but with a much different purpose, his muscular legs spread out and
draped over my thighs, his muscular chest pressing into my back, every so
often nipping somewhat hard on my ear lobes and neck.  I could feel his
cock between my ass cheeks.  It felt enormous.  I didn't know how big I was
or how big other guys were in comparison at that point.  I did my best to
look away from other guys in the showers and locker rooms.  I didn't watch
porn, being the goody two shoes church boy that I had been.  But I could
feel his size.  It felt as big as my whole, plump ass.  It felt monstrous.
Powerful.  I had a suspicion of what was going to happen, but I was feeling
so good, riding such a high from the events of the night, that I was loose
and accepting of what was going on.
	"I'm going to fuck you, baby boy.  It's going to hurt you.  But at
the end, you're going to feel better than you ever have before.  I need to
fuck you, Ken, I need to be inside you, I need to mark you as mine."
	And as he finished his last sentence I could feel his cock starting
to enter my ring.  I could feel the massive size of the cock head.  I was
loose from the booze, but not that loose.  "Oh god, I can't, Gary I can't
take it, it hurts!!!"  I started to scream, he put a pillow on my mouth.
"Shhhh...now baby, you're going to get fucked, I have to have you.  I have
to take your cherry.  That beautiful ass...never seen anything so nice and
round and so..."  He pushed further in, as my screams into the pillow got
louder.  "...perfectly made to be fucked as your ass...yeah baby boy, feel
it..."  I continued to pant and scream into the pillow, aware at least that
I didn't want to attract too much attention from his (and my) neighbors.
"Aw, fuuuuuccckkkkk, my baby boy, my little fuck toy, my little pussy,
yeah..."
	Gary started pushing in and out slowly.  It felt like every time he
would push back in, there was more.  I couldn't believe it, I thought my
ass was going to blow apart.  It felt so stretched.  That's when the first
ping of pleasure came back there.  He hit something inside me, and I
reacted.  "OH...yeah, got ya that time, didn't I?  That was your ass pussy,
that's your happy spot...I `ll show you, you'll never want to jack off
again..."  He continued to rub in certain ways as he pulled in and out.  I
think I finally felt him bottom out in me, I felt light scratching on my
hairless cheeks, must have been his pubes.  And I felt so fucking full.
	But every time his cock would rub in and out, move around, it would
hit that little happy spot he told me about, and I would writhe under him.
I pushed the pillow out of the way, as at this point I was moaning in
pleasure and only every so often grunting in pain.  He kept his up, but
started to speed up.  I was going wild under him, although I couldn't do
anything but wiggle and squirm underneath his more muscular body.  I
started to feel that hot flush again, the one where you know you have a
load building inside and it's going to come blasting out your dick.  I was
bucking back into him at that point, almost screaming "please don't ever
stop..." and "oh fffffffuuuuuuccccckkkkk meeeeeeee..." abbreviated by the
fast jabs of his, making it sound like I was being shook while trying to
talk.  "Yeah bitch!!!"  He did yell.  "Yeah, that's what it feels like when
a real man fucks your cunt!!!  You like that?  Huh?!?!?  Answer me!!!"
	I was gasping and panting "Aaaahhhhhh...fuck yes I love
it...pleaaasee...ahhhhhh...fffffuuuuucccckkkk my cuuuunnnnntttt..." I said
in between thrusts, trying to answer him coherently, but just sounding like
I was attached to a paint mixer or a wash machine that was violently out of
control.  I stopped speaking, I stopped thinking, and then flash bang I
exploded with so much force it hurt my cock and balls.  "I'm cummming!!!!!
Oh yeah I'm cumming!!!!  Ohhhh ohhhh ouahhhh!!"
	He continued pounding, the strokes getting fiercer, and his nuts
would slap against mine painfully as he savagely thrust inside my battered
hole.  `I'm cumming' would be the last coherent thought that night from me.
I didn't remember anything after that except intense pain and immeasurable
pleasure.  I could hear his talk, somewhat feel his nips on my tender
flesh, and I was aware of everything, but it's like it was so far away, and
all that mattered was the pain and pleasure of that fuck.
	The next morning, I remember waking up, no hangover.  Just a
serious throbbing in my backside.  I felt back there, hissed and winced at
the pain, and brought my hand back.  My fingers were slick with cum.  It
was still wet back there.  There was also some blood.  But not too much,
not enough to freak out about.  I gently laid back down on the bed, on my
stomach.  I felt a huge wet spot under my junk.  I must have cum more than
once, then just collapsed where I was.  I looked around, Gary wasn't there.
I reached back and gingerly pulled the seat of my skimpy bikini back over
to the other cheek, once again covering half of my ass.  I decided to just
lay there for a bit, in his bed, smelling his masculine odor on the sheets
and pillow.
	As I did, I thought back to last night and all that led up to my
current, cum covered self.  I had an awesome time at the party.  No 18 year
old, in my opinion, had ever had that much fun.  I giggled.  If my church
members could see me now...I laughed at that.  "You know what?  So what if
they could?  Fuck the hypocritical bastards.  I won't be like that ever
again."
	"Well, thank every-fucking-thing that is good.  I'm glad to hear
that baby boy."  I was a bit surprised, as Gary snuck in the room and his
friend (that I was kind of wary of, he looked a little sharky, but I would
later learn I had nothing to fear from him) Andrew followed right behind,
closing the door.
	Andrew's eyes got huge.  "Fuck, Gary, can the poor boy even walk???
Look at his ass, and that's only from the fucking side!!!!  What the fuck
did you do??"
	Gary laughed loudly, "Well, I fucked him, I took his cherry,
dipshit.  You know how big my dick is.  His is so small, it's pretty
useless so I showed him how a real man fucks.  And fucks.  And then fucks
some more."
	Andrew was laughing hard, and Gary had a sardonic grin on his
beautiful face.  I was actually a little put off by this, and tried to pull
a blanket up over me but winced in pain at the sudden movement and
tenderized boyhole.  So I just scowled at Andrew and Gary.
	"How big...or small...is he?"  Andrew asked.
	"One inch flaccid, about 4 inches hard."  Gary giggled.  Andrew
roared.
	"Man...I can't wait to tell everyone that this big guy is
so...underdeveloped down there..."  He was laughing.
	Gary chuckled when he saw my look.  "Baby, don't worry.  You got
nothing to hide.  Andrew is cool.  Fuck, trying to hide this beautiful ass
should be a crime.  And there's nothing wrong with a bottom boy being tiny.
Just a fact, get used to it."  He sat down by my head on the bed and pulled
the blanket off me completely.
	Andrew plopped down in a chair and quickly pitched in with a big
smile and said "That's no shit ken.  That's one gorgeous ass."  Licking his
lips and rubbing his crotch a bit, making me back down from my scowl and
think maybe I should just try to get up.  "I mean seriously, even as
wrecked as it is right now, that's just so hot..."
	"Get your own, Andy, this one is mine."  As he painfully slapped my
buttocks, eliciting a yelp from me, and a "Sorry, babe" from him.  I just
smiled at him.  He handed me a cup of coffee and told me to just keep lying
there like that and he would feed me the breakfast sandwich they had picked
up for me.  And he did.  I nibbled little bits of it as he fed them to me,
sipped the wonderful hot coffee.  I thought to myself `For once in my life,
I think I might know what the emotion "content" truly is', and as I looked
up to Gary, feeding me, staring back down at me with those luscious green
eyes, so full of warmth (and what looked like love?) I thought to myself
"No.  I KNOW what content is."
	The following two years would be the most memorable of my life.
The happiest of my life.  Of course, there were both ups and downs.  And we
had to be careful at times.  Gary wasn't a disciplinarian.  But, there were
things he was strict about.  I wasn't "allowed" to masturbate.  He wanted
my pleasure to coincide with his pleasure, as he explained to me.
	We would go off base, find a fish & chips stand, get some lunch or
find a kabob shop and chow down.  One of our favorite things was to take
the train into London and go clubbing all night, dancing with each other
and occasionally with some Brit guy.  He would buy me a pair of underwear
for the night, usually something that covered very little and was entirely
or mostly sheer.  His favorites were thongs and Brazilian cut bikinis.  I
would end up stripped to just those and my shoes at a club most often.  He
just loved to showcase my ass.
	I was a naïve kid.  But he protected me.  He was only 2 years
older than me, but he felt like more of a dad to me than my biological
father.  He taught me.  He cared for me, nurtured me.  He knew me, right
from the start.  He could see the hesitance and submission, veiled behind
my anger that first day.
	He knew I wasn't the kind of guy that would stand up for himself
much.  I may be tall and decently built, but I was a scared kid inside.
And scarred.  He knew this, but loved me anyway.  Our sex was always mind
blowing.  At times, he would bind me.  It thrilled me.  At times he would
fuck me hard.  Other times he would make love.  But, never once, did I ever
masturbate and break his rule.  And occasionally I would climax just from
feeling him inside me, rubbing against my happy spot.  He was right, I
didn't need it anymore.  All I needed was his love and manhood, deep inside
me.  That pleasure to me, was worth more than all the times I had ever
touched myself for pleasure.
	I was faithful to his demands from the beginning.  Why?  Because of
the look in those eyes, that morning after.  That is something precious,
the most precious thing imaginable.  Master Sergeant even let us become
roommates, of course giving us a knowing smile, and an admonishment to keep
it out of public eye from then on.  Come to find out later, his son was
gay.  We happily complied.
	Which made our parting so very, very hard.  I tried to get assigned
to his base when our base was closing.  When that failed and I was in
tears, he went down immediately to talk to Sarge, try and get himself
transferred to the base I was headed to.  The answer took a while, a few
days of torturous waiting, and finally Sarge called Gary down one day after
work.  The answer was no.  We were both in tears for hours, and then even a
couple weeks after that I had a tough time to control it.  I would have to
go to the restroom every time someone mentioned the base closing or
reassignments or something of the sort, and find a stall and soundlessly
cry, even if it was just a little bit.
	So, we made a pact.  We wouldn't be sad with each other for our
remaining 3 months.  We would enjoy every single day.  I did something I
shouldn't however, and didn't tell Gary.  I went to the Master Sergeant and
tried to get an early-out.  I desperately wanted to be with Gary.  I was
willing to give up my job, my livelihood, even a potential career, just to
be with the man that had justified my existence.  But, even that came back
a solid, resounding "no".  I couldn't help it and started crying right
there, a few days after I initially requested it from Sarge.  He
surprisingly, or maybe not so, got up and came around and hugged me until I
stopped.  He kept his hand on my shoulder and stepped back.
	He said "Son, I know about you two.  I know what this means to you.
But you signed a contract with the US Government.  That takes precedence.
Don't do anything stupid.  Life does this some times.  There's nothing you
can do, and it is unfair and it really hurts, but there's nothing you can
do.  This was your last means of staying together.  I know, I've been down
similar roads myself.  If I could help, hell if Major could help, we would.
What you can do however, is cherish each day with each other.  Don't waste
it.  Make memories.  It may be that you two end up back together at some
point in your lives, and you will have no regrets, you'll have been honest
and true to both yourselves and each other.  Remember that, son. That is
what is important.  Now, clean up, and dismissed."  I looked up at him, and
got a little teared up again but fought it back.  I said "Yes, Sarge."  I
turned sharply, not forgetting my dignity, and got to the door.  I stopped
and said.  "There's no way I can possibly thank you enough for trying,
Sarge.  But thank you."  And walked out.
	The next 3 months, thankfully, went by slow.  Gary and I went to
London every week.  We took pictures with each other everywhere.  We bought
each other sexy little things to wear, him silk boxers or boxer briefs and
me the skimpy little things he so loved to see and fuck me in.  We even got
new boots there.  I still have those boots.  They've had 5 soles replaced.
We went to clubs, danced and drank and kissed...even made love anywhere we
could in the city.  Well, ok, sometimes he just fucked my brains out.  But
hey, I was getting some!  And definitely wouldn't complain about either.  I
think Gary and I walked that entire city.  We would hold hands, walking
down the Thames river, just taking in the beauty of it all, and the beauty
of each other and what we had together.
	The fateful day came.  Gary's bus to Heathrow was leaving a half
hour earlier than mine to Gatwick.  I stood there, only a couple people
around us, with him.  I threw caution to the wind.  We were off base
anyway.  In the chill and fog of that morning, standing there beside the
bus stop outside of the base, the beautiful English countryside rolling off
in 3 directions, I stepped close, he started smiling, and I reached my arm
out to him, both his came around me, and we locked our lips.  Like that
first night.  Damn anyone that didn't like it.  We heard the bus coming,
and broke our kiss.
	"Don't ever forget me Gary, because I never will be able forget
you."
	"That's something you shouldn't ever worry about, Ken.  You are
unforgettable, baby boy."
	"I love you."  I croaked.
	"I love you."  He croaked back.  And stepped on the bus.
	I stood there, as he got a window seat, sat down and looked out at
me, eyes red, waving.  I stood there trying to compose myself, knowing my
eyes were red as well.  I waved back, pointed at my heart and then at him.
He did the same, as the bus pulled off.  I stood there like a fool, waving
as the bus drove down the road and out of site.  I lost it.  I started
silently sobbing, and just couldn't stop, even when I got on my bus, took a
look back toward the base, our base, I could only hold the sobs back, but
the tears kept flowing.  All the way to Gatwick, and all the way across the
ocean, to my port of St. Louis, the on to San Francisco, and up to Montana
for a month of leave.  That entire way, the tears flowed, but silently and
slowly.
	We promised to write.  For a year, we wrote back and forth.  His
tone in the letters changed toward the 11th month.  The 13th month, I got a
letter from Gary.  It read heartbreakingly: "Ken; What can I say to you?
You had my heart from that first day.  I am pretty sure I had yours almost
as soon.  A friend of yours from tech school had a picture of you and her.
I saw it.  I knew you almost instantly.  And I knew I wanted to be with
you.  I am staying in the Air Force, Ken.  I know you were thinking about
getting out, and I think you should really think about that.  Maybe it
would be good for you to stay in.  But, whatever choice you make, remember
what I told you.  Be proud of yourself.  This is the part that I really
don't want to say, and have been putting off for a couple months now.  You
know I love you.  You know there will be no other like you in my life.
What we shared, I wouldn't trade for the rest of my life.  But, holding on,
for a year, it has been very hard on me.  And I think it's been very hard
on you.  I can tell from your letters.  At least I think I can.  I got to
know you very well.  We need to see other people, Ken.  We need to move on.
Don't lose the memories, what we had.  Remember it, and don't lose it.
There will be others, different than us, but there will be others.  Go out,
and find a new love.  I'm going to.  At least try.  I don't know if I will
be successful or not, but I'm going to try.  You need to too Ken.  I do
hope our paths cross again.  Love you, my baby boy.  Forever.  Gary."
	I won't bore with the details.  Fact of the matter is, I can't
write them.  I can't write what life was life the following few months.  I
was a lovesick, broken hearted kid.  Maybe I'm different, but I didn't go
out and have sex with as many people as I could.  I didn't have sex at all.
To be truthful, I didn't masturbate for a month, at least.  I don't
remember exact days.  It's hard to remember exact days when you are in an
endless fog.
	Gradually, I saw that he was right.  Once again.  Gradually, I came
out of my shell and started hanging out with new friends.  Time heals, old
wounds remain.  And they can be brought to the surface so suddenly, as I
would find out later in life.

Chapter 1 End.


Author's note:

This is the first chapter.  I'm hoping that people enjoy it.  It will
advance to have a lot more kink and domination, although the domination at
this point in my life was very limited.  It was both fun and disturbing to
write.  So many emotions...I have since begun explaining to "His twin"
everything (in real life), and that will be one of the last chapters.  So,
it is naturally, still as yet unwritten.  I'm not sure how things will
progress, as he is just SO damned tough to read as a person.  Sometimes I
feel like he's in love with me, the next I feel like he's disgusted by me.
Anyway...  The second chapter is almost finished, and I will have that
ready in a few days.  I haven't set a limit on how many chapters this story
will be, but it will ultimately have to have a conclusion where I have to
leave off at the point in life I am at now.  But, without a doubt, there
will be more chapters coming.  I've had a wild ride so far, and I hope you
enjoy it as much as I have.  If you have questions or comments, my email is
kenduxbury52@gmail.com Feel free to drop me a note, and I will reply as
soon as possible!  This work is not to be copied, reproduced, or used in
anyway except for personal reading, without my expressed permission.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!  Kenneth P Duxbury