Date: Tue, 29 May 2012 21:05:50 -0500
From: Steve Street <rssmaster@cox.net>
Subject: The faint aroma of soap

I walk into the kitchen not stopping until my chest presses against his
back. I put my arms around his chest and hug him hard and kiss his neck. I
tell him to continue working as I am very hungry. Boy starts the blender as
I walk back and sit at the kitchen table. Taking down two large glasses
from the cupboard, boy pours the rich mixture from the blender, filling
each glass to the brim. He carries the two glasses over the table and I
motion for him to sit as he places the glasses down. We drink the soothing
and nutritious mixture and I feel satisfied. I tell boy to clean up the
kitchen and come into the den. When he walks into the den a few minutes
later, I am sitting in the chair and I notion for him to sit between my
knees with his back against the chair seat. I put my legs under his arms
and around his chest and give him the I-pod I had picked up from the desk
as I walked in. I told him he could play any of his favorite games. He
switched the I-pod on and was quickly engrossed in a game. I know that he
will happily play games as long as I let him, and sat back to enjoy the
warmth of his body against my legs.

I pick up the novel I have been reading, but I find myself engrossed
thinking about boy and our relationship, and put the book down into my
lap. I hear boy letting out soft yelps or moans depending on whether he has
won or lost in the game he is playing. He is enjoying himself, and I wish I
could read his mind. What does he think? I ask myself. After all, his life
now is entirely focused on obediently doing whatever I ask of him and
giving me pleasure when I want it. He cannot have any pleasure without
pleasing me, but he can suffer punishment when he disobeys or displeases
me. I keep him naked; he only wears clothes, of my choosing, when we leave
the house to walk or run, to go shopping, to eat out or go to a movie. He
has no say in any aspect of his physical life, He eats what and when I want
him to eat. He must have my permission to perform any bodily function,
including relieving his bladder or bowels. He cannot choose any activity on
his own, as I make the decision as to when or where or how he is to walk,
run, sit, kneel or lay down. He must remain silent, speaking only with my
permission or when I ask him a question. I wonder what he thinks of
himself, or if he thinks about that at all. I know I have never had as
enjoyable sex as I have had with boy, and I think he enjoys the sex as
much, maybe more, than I do.  I ask myself whether being my virtual slave
gives him a sense of fulfillment, or deep down, in his thoughts, does he
feel degraded.  In the months he has been under my control, I have never
perceived even a hint of reluctance from him. After all, I tell myself,
there is nothing stopping him from pulling on some clothes and walking out
of the house at any time. Of course, he has no money and no transportation,
but if he had strong negative feelings about his situation, he could leave
on his own volition.

I lean over and run my right hand gently over boy's cheek. Boy turns his
head slightly and plants a firm but quick kiss on the palm of my hand and
just as quickly returns his attention to the game he has been playing. I
press my legs tighter against his chest and picking up the remote, turn on
the stereo tuning in a classical music station. The music plays and I
resume reading the novel. When I finish the novel, I put the book down and
look at the clock - it is just a little before 8:00, Boy is still engrossed
in his game, but I lean over and put my hand on the I-pod. I tell him to
turn the machine off as we must eat something. With reluctance, he turns
the power off on the I-pod and hands it to me. I tell him to go into the
kitchen and microwave two of the frozen chicken dinners, to take the cheese
cake from the refrigerator and to brew a fresh pot of coffee. Boy pushes
himself up from the floor and walks out of the den.

I stay in my chair enjoying the music - one of Mozart's quartets is
playing. When the quartet is finished, I power off the stereo, get up and
walk to the kitchen. When I walk in the kitchen entrance boy is on his
knees next to the table. Two plates are on the table, steam from the cooked
chicken dinner wafting up.  I walk over and sit down at the table and
motion boy to do the same. Boy gets up and sits in a chair in front of his
plate with his hands at his side. When I start eating, he brings up his
hands and starts eating. In a short time, I have eaten the last of the
chicken dinner on my plate and I tell boy to bring over a slice of cheese
cake for each of us and to pour two cups of coffee. I tell him that I want
my coffee in the large cup and to fill the cup only 3/4 full. Boy gets up,
picks up the dinner plates and walks over the counter putting the plates
into the dishwasher. He walks back with two smaller plates, each with a
well-proportioned slice of cheese cake. He puts the plates on the table,
returns to the counter and pours the two cups of coffee as instructed.

He walks back and puts the large cup in front of me and the smaller one
next to his plate. I tell boy to remain standing. I take a deliberate sip
of the coffee, wait for a moment, and then tell boy the coffee is good, as
expected, but that it needs something more. I took another sip, and then
tell him that the coffee needs fresh cream. I instruct boy to go to the
counter and bring back the plastic bottle of KY and hand it to me. As he
retrieves the KY, I turn my chair slightly away from the table. After he
hands me the KY, I tell boy to stand in front of me with his legs spread
and his hands behind his head. As I pop the lid of the KY bottle open with
the thumb of my right hand, I place my left hand under his cock and gently
push it up. His cock thickening at my touch, I tell boy that his cream is
better tasting, in my considered opinion, than any cream from even the best
of cows. So, I said, I am going to enjoy massaging his cock until he
ejaculates his sweet cream into my coffee cup.  I pour the KY liquid onto
his cock, put the KY bottle on the table, and close my fist around his
cock. With the palm of my left hand around his now slick cock, I start
slowly moving my hand back and forth, his cock head poking out of his
foreskin with each back stroke. Using the fingers of my right hand, I
gently rub the lubricant around his exposed cock head. Boy's muscles
tighten, and he lets out a moan of pleasure. In little more than a minute
of massaging, I can tell boy is on the verge of orgasm. I pick up my coffee
cup with my right hand and hold it near his cock head while increasing the
pace of strokes on his cock with my left hand. Within moments, a stream of
milky cum squirts from his cock into my cup, followed quickly by a second,
shorter squirt. Boy pants from the orgasm as I take my hand away from his
cock and take a sip of the coffee. I tell boy that his fresh cream has
brought my coffee to near perfection in taste, and that he now can sit to
enjoy his dessert. His oily cock, still thick, hangs down heavily as he
steps over to the chair and carefully sits down.

I finish the cheese cake and drink the last of the creamy coffee, I
instruct boy to clean up the kitchen and then to come into the den. As boy
stands up and is stacking the plates, I walk over to the counter and pour
myself another cup of coffee.  I smile at boy as I turn around, telling him
that, this time, I will forego the pleasure of his cream in my coffee and
just drink it black. I walk out of the kitchen and into the den, sit at my
desk, put the coffee cup down, and turn on the computer. I am reading my
e-mail when boy walks in, quickly kneeling by the side of my chair. I
finish the e-mail and pick up the I-pod and tell boy to sit with his back
against the side of my chair. He turns, sits on his ass with his legs
straight out in front of him. I look down at his cock, which is now fully
deflated. I hand boy the I-pod and tell him to have fun.

-to be continued-