Date: Sat, 14 Apr 2012 16:02:59 +0100 (BST)
From: TomJon Smith <tomjonsmith@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: The Bouncer Part 4

The Bouncer (Part 4)
By TomJon Smith

The drive back from Oleg's mansion gave me time to reflect. Perhaps this
had been a bad move. Now I was on the Russian's radar and I had no idea if
he trusted me or not.  Jan had been tossed aside without a moment's
thought. Oleg was as ruthless as he was rampant. I didn't want to think
what would happen to Jan. True, he was no friend of mine, but you did not
want to be on the wrong side of men like Oleg Vazov. I felt suddenly sick
that I had put a nail in his coffin just by revealing to Vazov that I knew
what was going on.

My head felt fuzzy and disordered from the cocaine. As I drove, I had to
come up with a plan. My mind was racing.

Maybe the police would take care of Jan. But if there was one thing I had
learnt in my life, you could not trust the fuzz to do the right thing. They
had their own motives.

Then suddenly it struck me. If Jan was in trouble then so was
Danny. Drug-dealing, especially in a set-up as large as this, would see him
go to jail. I wasn't dealing, all I had done was fail to report a crime,
but I had previous form and the police had me by the balls. I'd done time
before and I knew I could handle it if I really had to. But Danny... He was
not built for prison. Everything sweet about him would be made sour. My
stomach clenched at the thought of what would happen to him.

I was only a kid really when I got involved with the kind of people your
mum wouldn't approve of. It was nothing at first, a bit of shoplifting. But
it escalated. Soon it was cars.  And then there was the robbery.

As luck would have it, I was not involved directly but I was at the meeting
point working on one of the stolen vehicles when the boys getaway van came
screeching around the corner. They'd been chased by the police but had
managed to lose them. They were jubilant, punching the air. The back of the
van was stuffed with booty. What I didn't know at the time was that two of
the lads had sawn-off shotguns. And when I heard the sirens blare it was
too late to do a runner.

I was sent down for eighteen months. Some of the boys got ten years for
armed robbery.  Like I said, I was lucky to have sat that one out.

Prison was a wake up call. You get lots of time to think in prison. I'd
never acknowledged that I prefer lads to lasses, but it dawned on me that
suppressing that part of myself had probably led to all of the other
things; wanting to be macho, wanting to one of the lads.  We egged each
other on to worse and worse crimes.


In prison, I had three different cellmates and they were all ok
guys. Mikey, the first one, was a big man and he'd first got me doing
weights. He was a nice lad, a bit slow perhaps, but sweet in his own
way. He had photos of Pamela Anderson by his bunk and many a night I would
wake up to the squeak of his bed springs as his huge fist would pump his
dick to completion.

My last cellmate, Benny, was the first guy I ever loved. I knew he'd done
something bad but I never asked. We talked a lot, all night sometimes. I
think I told him everything about myself in those short months. One night
he crept down from the top bunk and under my blanket. I was inside him in a
matter of seconds. We made love every night after that, silently and
gently, holding each other afterwards. We never spoke about it.

I promised to write to him every week once I was on the outside. I never
did. I don't know where he is now but I dream about him sometimes. He was
the first person to make me feel whole and to make me believe that I could
be a good person.

When I got out I changed my name and moved away from my old city. I wanted
a fresh start. Because I was a big guy, I got work on the doors easily. The
only good thing about prison is the gym. I'd worked out a bit before being
sent down, but I came out twice the man. Your body is like a shield. The
bigger you are, the less likely you are to have someone have a pop at
you. The occasional drunk will take a swing at you when you're working but
that's all part and parcel of bouncing. I hadn't intended on working the
doors but you meet other people at the gym, you make friends and work finds
its way to you.

In prison the gym was normally quite empty, so on coming out it was good to
work out with other people. A lot of doormen work out together. It becomes
a bit of a brotherhood.  I suppose that was what I was looking for when I
got mixed up in a bad crowd.  Back then, not many questions were asked. A
lot of the bouncers had less than rosy pasts. But if you did your job you
were ok.

Danny would not be able to cope with prison: the way Jan had treated him
was exactly what he had in store if he was sent down. I had to do
something. As far as I knew, the police had no idea that anyone beyond Jan
was dealing in the club. And I was going to keep it that way.


/

A day later and I stood on the doorstep, waiting. The house was large and
modern: glass and steel, very different from Vazov's country pile. This
place was very Mal. I felt uncomfortable even standing outside of the
building.

The door opened.

Steve could not be much more different to Danny. My attraction to Danny
surprised me.  Slim, twinky, dark-haired and olive-skinned, he really was
the opposite of curvy, blonde Steve.

`Well, I was not expecting to see you today.' He was surprised but masking
it with an ironic tone. `Don't just stand there. Come in.'

I shuffled in awkwardly. It looked like the kind of house where you had to
take your shoes off: cream carpets, thick rugs. I followed Steve through to
the kitchen. Chrome, granite and glass covered every surface. It looked
like a kitchen straight out of an advert.

Steve was looking good. I hadn't seen him since he had picked up his stuff
from my flat.  He was just as beautiful as he was then, like a grown up
cherub. As he put the kettle on, I couldn't help but remember our naked
bodies together. A pulse of misery washed over me.

`What can I do for you?' he said, leaning against the granite counter.

`I wanted to see Mal. We have business to discuss,' I replied, as curtly as
I could.

`I've missed you,' he said, stepping closer. `I think about you all the
time, how you used to make me laugh, how you used to make me smile.'

I knew where this was going but I felt powerless to stop it. He was
touching my hand.

`You made me truly happy, I realise that now.'

`What about Mal?' I asked, gruffly.

`Mal only makes himself happy. He hardly touches me now. And when he does
it's all over in the blink of an eye.'

Hearing that made me happy, knowing that I fucked this boy better than Mal
knew how to. But was it a lie? Was this all a lie? What did Steve want?

`I want you to take me back. I want to be with you again, like we used to
be.' His hand reached for my groin. I didn't stop him as he gently pulled
open the zip. His soft lips were pressing against mine and I felt myself
kissing him back. Familiar but strange, forgotten but dreamed of: his
skilful mouth. His fingers crept inside my fly and encountered the
stiffening cock within. Suddenly, he was on his knees and those pink,
cushiony lips that were a moment ago against mine were now easing back the
skin over my reddening cockhead.

How I had missed those lips! How many mornings had I woken up with this boy
sucking me off! He was always hungry for cock in the early days of our
relationship. I'd fucked him on trains, in the middle of the woods, in the
toilets of a National Trust country house.  Even in the club, in the same
room I had watched Jan mercilessly fuck Danny. The thought of Danny
momentarily derailed me, but as Steve's tongue, slimy with spittle,
wriggled against my bell-end, it was only Steve I could think of.

His fingers unbuckled the belt of my trousers and worked loose the button,
finally tugging down the boxer shorts. As he sucked on my dick, his hands
rediscovered my body, the short thatch of pubic hair that I trimmed every
week, the satin skin of my sack.

When I had last been with Steve my body was hard and toned, landscaped with
brawn.  But I had softened in the months that had passed; a fleshier layer
covered my stomach and buttocks. I was more comfortable in my own skin than
I had been. His hands slapped my fleshy arse cheeks and a finger, damp with
his spit, burrowed between them and found my slit. As he entered me with
that finger I let out a gasp. I was strictly a top but he knew how much I
loved a finger pushed into me during a blowjob. He waggled it playfully as
his mouth pleasured my dick. We were reliving a moment we had shared so
many times before.

Holding my veiny shaft, he pushed his lips over my glistening red helmet,
his tongue slurping noisily. I looked down at his face, as beautiful and
cherubic as I had remembered it, his short curly hair and chubby cheeks,
the dimpled chin and snub nose.  It was a face I had fallen in love with as
soon as I saw him.

And then I wanted to be inside him again.

He'd been a virgin when we'd met. He was shy but willing, coy but
eager. Being on the chubby side, he was embarrassed by his body, but the
things he was ashamed of were the things that made him beautiful. The first
time we went to bed I didn't even put my dick in him. I kissed his body,
sucked his beautiful tits and tongued his arsehole, entering him with my
fingers, feeling his body adjust to me. The second time we went to bed he
begged me to fuck him and I relented. It must have hurt when I entered him
that first time but he tried not to show it and after a few uncomfortable
minutes of feeling his arsehole trying to expel me, we found a rhythm and I
lost myself in his tightness, exploding into his guts and burying my head
in his bosom while the orgasm subsided, enjoying the warm dampness of each
other's bodies.

And now I knew that someone else had been with him and felt his arsehole
cling to their cock. My anger turned to sheer lust. I pulled him up from
his knees and began to rip the clothes from his body. I wanted to fuck him
hard, make him feel my cock replunder his anus, feel my jism spurt deep in
his belly and extinguish the betrayal I had endured.

Roughly, I got him on to the couch. The flimsy material of his briefs was
no match for my lustful strength and I tore them to shreds. And before me
was his arse, as beautiful as I remembered it in my dreams. Each cheek was
rounded and heavy. My hands roved over the silky skin, grabbing handfuls of
his pliable flesh.

`Fuck me!' he begged, just as had done on that second night when I had
taken his virginity.

I spat down on my dick. It was straining in its own skin, hungry to taste
his arse again.  Steve held his cheeks apart and I could see the wrinkle of
his ring. My dick in hand, I pushed against him. The familiar tautness of
his anus squeezed over my engorged head and with a vicious thrust I pushed
down into his guts. He cried out but I was deaf to him this time. With
brutal thrusts I fucked him like a whore, pillaging the hole that had once
been mine. With a mixture of anger and lust I took him, my pelvis slapping
against his cheeks, my big smooth balls smacking against him.

The tightness of him! He was as tight as the first time, perhaps tighter
with the new skills he had acquired since then. He could make even the
unluckiest of men feel like a stallion. He gripped me as I pulled out each
time, sending divine shudders of pleasure up through my body like a
lightening rod.

Wanting to feel his body against mine, I positioned him facedown on the
sofa, arse on the air and I lay on top of him, my arms locking under his,
my hands over his mouth as I rode him. His soft body rippled beneath me. It
had been my favourite way to take him, sliding my body over his, my dick
lodged deep within him, moving only millimetres, but feeling every
sensation as my knob was smothered by his tight tunnel.

He mumbled ecstasies into my hand as I took him. I licked his nape, tasting
the sweet, salty flavour of his sweat.

We stayed like this for some time: my arse drilling down into his tight
spongy anus, my bell-end mining his crevice.

I could have spunked inside him, as I always used to. Even though his mouth
was covered now, I could tell he was begging for my seed. It would be an
affirmation, a reignition of our relationship.

But I didn't want that. Now I knew I could have him if I wanted him, and
with my cock now impaled within him, I knew I didn't want him anymore.

I yanked myself out and told him I was going to come over his face and
tits. There was disappointment in his eyes, but he rolled over
nevertheless. On his knees before me, he looked up through his long
eyelashes, ready for the assault. He stroked his tits, the large cherry-red
nipples swollen with longing.

I stood over him, pumping my meat with my hand. I felt the orgasm swell in
my loins and let it crash over my body like a wave. Holding my dick by the
helmet I felt the involuntary jolts of ejaculation as semen shot out of me,
thick white streaks of it. The first spurts splattered across his face,
splashing his cheeks and lips and chin. Then, as the orgasm began to
subside, weaker squirts landed across his chest. He was so splattered with
my icing, he looked like an accident at a cake factory.

I let out a long, satisfied sigh. I hadn't come that much for a long
time. Steve looked up at me. My softening cock was expelling a thick
droplet of semen from it's slit. Lovingly, he pressed his lips around the
head and sucked out the last of the sticky treat.

Staring down at him, my lust turned into disgust. The anger of betrayal
still burned inside me. This would be the last time he would taste my
spunk.

I reached for my trousers. He looked confused.

`Don't go. Let's shower. We could get something to eat maybe. Mal won't be
home for hours.'

`No.' I said, tugging the trousers up and tucking my cock back inside my
briefs.

`Please stay. I want you. I want to be with you.' His eyes were tearful and
truthful. I could feel myself melting.

`What about Mal?'

`He's been different lately. There's something at work, something to do
with the firm.  He's involved with something dodgy, I know he is. He won't
talk about it. He won't talk to me. I think he's going to leave me. I want
you. I need you.'

And there was the truth. Steve was terrified of being on his own again. He
left me because Mal offered something more exciting and he had a lot of
cash to splash. Now he thought Mal was tiring of him, he wanted to come
running back to me.

I looked at him, his beautiful face and body still streaked with my
spunk. I'd loved him so much once but now I felt nothing. That fuck had
gotten him out of my system. I pulled my shirt on and left, Steve pleading
for me stay. But now I was free. Free from all the pain he had caused me,
free from my own longing and free to sort out this whole mess once and for
all.