Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 A GENTLE MASTER - mm Mast Touching

   Copyright (c) 2009 by AL X

   -------------------------------------------------------------

   This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material.  It is NOT
suitable for minors.  If you are a minor, LEAVE NOW as it is illegal for
you to be here.  If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit
material in your community, LEAVE NOW.  If you are offended by sexually
explicit stories, LEAVE NOW.  This story and characters are purely
fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is
purely coincidental.  These stories are pure fiction and do not promote or
condone the activities described herein, especially when it comes to unsafe
sexual practices or sex between adults and minors.

   You may link to this story from non-commercial or free sites, but you
may not copy or use it for any commercial purpose.

   -------------------------------------------------------------



   Secret Sissy - Episode 3



   "A Gentle Master"



   by Al X



   It seemed innocent back then: my best friend and I were two normal
teenage boys who liked girls and football, but we also masturbated
together. Bill's parents worked nights, leaving us the privacy our activity
required, and Bill had a supply of dirty magazines and occasional cans of
beer.  He always reassured me that what we were doing was normal - "It's
what guys do," he used to say - and that we weren't fags since we didn't
touch each other.  "It's no big deal that we're doing it in the same room."

   At the time I thought that everything had occurred naturally, but
looking back I see that Bill had orchestrated everything.  He was a born
dominant (although I didn't understand that word back then) and was
executing a simple but effective plan to get me to be his submissive.

   Phase I was getting me not only comfortable with sex, but enjoying it so
much that it became an obsession with me.  I was masturbating every day -
two or three times a week at his house, and alone in my bedroom on the
other days.  He also got me to lose any inhibitions I might have had about
being naked around guys: I had no qualms about watching another boy jerk
off or having him watch me jerk off.  It became more than just natural; it
was something of a turn on.

   There was another aspect of our sessions.  Always, Bill was in control,
and I grew used to having him tell me what to do.  Sometimes his
instructions were more an order than a request, but I became accustomed to
obeying him.  Our physical positions underscored this, for Bill usually sat
on the edge of the bed while he had me sit or even kneel on the floor.  And
while he never had me touch him, often he had me staring at his cock when I
started to cum, subliminally training me to associate his cock with my
pleasure.

   It was a beautiful plan and Bill was a skilled at executing it.  He had
me where he wanted me, ready to follow where he would lead.  Soon he
executed Phase II of his plan.

   One Friday night at Bill's house, he announced a special treat.  "Check
it out," he said as he removed a half empty liquor bottle from under his
pillow "Cherry flavored vodka!  Mark got it from me."

   "Mark's a creep." I hated his bully of a cousin.

   "Yes, but look what he got me!" He shook the bottle with glee.  "Vodka!"

   We mixed the vodka with 7-Up to make a sweet, bubbly drink that got me
more buzzed than I had ever been before.  About an hour later, Bill took
out the dirty magaziness, and we started our routine.  He laid on the bed
and rubbed himself through his pants, while I sat on the floor and did the
same.  Soon after, we removed our pants and were jerking off.  Then Bill
took out the bottle of hand cream from his nightstand.

   "Here, get some," he said, and I was already crawling over to the bed
toward him.  As I sat on my haunches he tried squeezing the bottle but very
little came out.  "I need to buy more." The bottle made some farting sounds
and a few drops dripped into my open palm.

   "Is there enough for you, too?"

   "Don't worry about me." He squeezed some final drops into my hand then
tossed the empty bottle on his bed.  He placed his hand firmly around his
penis.  "Go 'head and start," he instructed.

   I needed little encouragement.  I lubed up my hard penis with the cold
cream and started to rub myself.  I tried not to look up at Bill, but I
could see that he was rubbing himself slowly.

   "Does that feel good?"

   "Yeah," was all I managed to say.

   "I'll find something to put on my cock," he said, emphasizing the word
'cock' in a way that made it sound dirty and exciting.  "But you cum - I
want to see you cum."

   I felt uncomfortable talking about what we were doing, but had no
problem listening to Bill.  In fact over the last few weeks I had gotten
used to him talking me to orgasm, and it was one of the reasons jerking off
with Bill was even better than jerking off alone at home.

   "Pump that cock of yours.  Imagine Cindy's hands down there, squeezing
your cock." Cindy was a girl in school I had the hots for.  "Or her mouth -
wouldn't you like to feel her hot, wet lips around the head of your cock?"
He was a pro, and I closed my eyes and listened to him.  "She would tickle
your balls while she licked your cock up and down.  Imagine Cindy's wet
tongue all along your cock."

   The vodka, my hand, Bill's words, the image of Cindy - they all combined
and soon I got closer and closer, and then came the rush and the thrill,
and seconds later I was sitting on the floor with a handful of cum.

   It was only after orgasm that I felt any shame or embarrassment, and as
usual I kept my head lowered and avoided the gaze of Bill.  If I thought
the experience was over, I was wrong.  Bill had other plans.

   "I still need something to lube this."

   I looked up and saw that he was pointing his cock at me.  I was on the
floor, maybe two feet away from him.  His cock was longer than mine, but
thinner.  It was erect.

   "Hey, give me what's in your hand." He pointed to my right hand, a palm
full of hot sticky cum.  "It's only fair since I gave you the last of the
cream."

   It seemed an odd request, and yet there was a strange logic to it.  It
didn't seem like a big deal, and so I reached my arm over to him.  My arm
hovered over his thigh and he moved his right hand towards it.  I thought
he would just scoop it out, but as his hand moved close to mine, he
suddenly grabbed my wrist with his other hand.

   "Put it on me," he said.  His grip was tight, but not painful.  His
voice was stern, but not angry.  I guess I could have pulled away if I
really objected, but I didn't.  (Again I'll blame the booze buzz.  And
Bill's coaxing - he was a gentle master, able to smoothly coerce me.  And,
of course, there must have been some secret desire inside of me, some dark
craving that Bill sensed and exploited.  God, he was good.) "Just put some
on me."

   He moved my arm until my hand reached his penis.  When I opened my palm
he inched it closer.  But then I took over.  I rubbed my open palm against
one side of his erection, wiping about half the cum on it, then rotated my
hand so I coat the other side.

   "Get it all over," he instructed, and I used my fingertips to spread the
cum all over him, from the base of his cock to the tip of the head.  As I
did, he stiffened more.  I could see and feel his cock flex with pleasure.

   What a strange sensation - feeling another boy's penis.  I could feel
the warmth of it, the smoothness, the tenseness of the erection.  I didn't
mind doing it.  I kind of enjoyed it.

   When I finished, I pulled my hand away from his penis, but rested my
wrist on his thigh and looked up at him.  Oh, what a submissive slut I was
becoming: I was waiting for his next command!

   "Rub it in for me.  Go head."

   Transfixed, I moved my hand back and grasped his cock firmly at the
base. I squeezed slightly, then moved it upwards, giving him a long stroke
until the tip of his cock was in my palm.  I twisted my hand a bit then did
a downward stroke.

   "Again," he commanded, and I obeyed, quicker and more smoothly this
time. And when my hand went down to the base of his cock, he said, "Keep
doing that," and I gave him what he wanted.  I started to stroke him over
and over, picking up the tempo, feeling his thin straight cock in my hand.
And when he told me to use my other hand, I grabbed the tip of his penis
with my left hand and massaged the head, never once stopping my strokes.

   "It's just like you're doing it to your own cock," he told me, as if I
needed to be reassured me that what I was doing wasn't gay.  "Pinch the
head," he instructed, and he let out a sigh when I followed his order. 
"Faster - pump my cock faster." I picked up the temp, and squeezed tighter.
"You have great hands."

   I looked up to see him smiling down at me.  I should have felt ashamed,
but I didn't.  In fact, I felt a bit proud that I was doing a good job, and
it felt good to be giving Bill pleasure.

   "Make me cum now.  You can do it." He arched his back and slid a little
closer to me, and I pumped him faster.  "I'm so close.  Get ready to catch
my cum." I cupped the tip of his cock with my left hand and pumped even
faster.  "Do it.  Do it, Do it.  Oh, god , I'm cumming."

   And then what an odd feeling - the rush of hot fluid in my hand, some of
it slipping out the cracks between my fingers.

   "Oh, god, that was awesome," he told me, as I stopped my hands but left
them still holding him.  When I opened my palm, he looked at the big sticky
mess and said, "You can use that on yourself." He motioned to my groin
where I had - to my surprise - a raging hardon.  "I can't believe you're
hard again.  Go 'head and do it."

   I was extremely turned on.  I needed to cum again.  And so I reached
down and grabbed myself.  I was still sitting on the floor between Bill's
legs, my face on an even level with his lap.  Eye level to his softening
cock.

   "Jerk your cock, Al.  Do It."

   I was both sore and horny, but my hands worked on my hardon, rubbing it
with a palmful of Bill's jism, and as I did, Bill used his hands to lightly
fondle himself.  He wasn't trying to ghet himself off; no, he was just
putting on a show for me, for my eyes were focused on his cock.  While I
was getting myself closer and closer to a second orgasm, he made sure my
visual was of his flaccid cock.  He tugged at the base and pinched the tip.
And to make sure I didn't turn away he gave me some advice: "Here's another
sensitive spot, right under the balls." He stretched his ballsack and
scratched at the skin the below it with his forefinger.  "Are you ready to
cum yet?"

   "I'm close."

   And knowing I couldn't stop now even if I wanted to, my gentle master
used his verbal powers: "You have great hands.  I love the way they felt on
my cock.  They felt way better than my own." I watched a drab of cum seep
out his pee hole.  "You didn't mind doing that, did you?" And before I
could respond, he added: "Of course not.  You got hard doing it!  But
that's OK.  It's no big deal." He used the tip of his finger to wipe the
cum drop all over his cockhead.  "I'll never tell anyone that you do that."

   I squeezed the tip of my cock with one hand and pumped the base with the
other.

   "So, go 'head.  Cum now.  Cum."

   And kneeling on the floor staring at Bill's, I jerked a few more strokes
and seconds later I felt my second orgasm of the night overtake me.  The
dizziness, the heat, the fire in my groins, and then the eruption in my
hand, a smaller load, which I cupped in my palm.

   And when the sensations passed, I couldn't look at Bill.  I was
surprised at what had just occurred, unsure of how I felt about what I had
done and what he had said about me.  Only one thing was certain - we had
gone to the next level.  And in the silence of the room, I was finally
grasping the nature of our relationship, realizing how Bill was somehow
controlling me.  For the first time I saw him not as a peer - another
14-year-old boy - but as something else, a sexual controller, a gentle
master who was turning me into what?  A secret sissy?



   For more stories by Al X and to send comments to the author, visit
www1.asstr.org/~ALX/index.html