Golden Boy Two-Volume Set

by Claire Thompson

  Eric felt lust like a snake writhing through his body. His selfish inclination was to ignore Johnny. To keep on sucking the life out of him, to make him come hard, his nipples pulled and tortured, completely under Eric’s control. But even in the most intense scene, Eric’s nature would not permit him to risk his sub’s safety. Agreeing with Johnny’s assessment, he released the clips as Johnny sighed his relief.

  Turning back to the delicious task at hand, Eric suckled and teased his lover, quickly bringing him to the edge of release. “Oh!” Johnny cried, “I’m going to come. Please, Sir, may I?”

  “Yes,” Eric said, his response muffled by the cock in his mouth. Johnny grabbed his head again, holding him tight as he shot his hot, sweet seed down Eric’s throat. Eric wrapped his arms around Johnny, holding him as he recovered himself, his body shaking, his fingers still entwined in Eric’s hair.

  Slowly Johnny sank to the soft lambskin rug beneath his feet, completely spent. Eric lay next to him, his own cock still on fire with unrequited lust. He allowed Johnny to rest a while, stroking his strong bare back with one hand, his own cock with the other. Johnny rolled over toward him, his expression dreamy. He smiled down at Eric’s hard, thick cock. All Eric had to do was point. His slave knew just what to do.

  Later they lay together in Eric’s bed, Johnny dozing lightly, Eric just resting as he smoothed Johnny’s rich golden hair and admired the planes and angles of his face in repose. Johnny was becoming a very good submissive, he had to admit. Not only could he take pain well, and with obvious pleasure, but he was learning to obey without question, to trust without demanding explanation. That would be essential if they were to play again in public, if they were to “redeem themselves”, as Johnny said, at The Cavern.

  Johnny’s cell phone, sitting next to Eric’s on the night table, began to ring. Johnny stirred a little and said, “Can you get that?”

  Eric reached for the phone, reading the caller ID information as it scrolled across the little screen. “It says Billy Wilson. Do you want to take the call?”

  Chapter 3

  Johnny glanced at his watch as he leaned against the storefront of the old deli in Williamsburg, only a few blocks from their father’s garage. Billy should be there in five minutes. As he walked through the familiar neighborhood, Johnny felt at once at home and out of place. Instead of the old denim work shirt he would have been wearing over old baggy blue jeans, he was dressed in a yellow T-shirt and brown lightweight linen pants with dark brown leather sandals. Around his neck was a thick silver chain placed there by his lover, secured by a little padlock shaped like a heart. Only Eric had the key.

  As Johnny waited, he pulled on the padlock, sliding it around behind his neck. The hoops at his nipples broke the smooth line of fabric over his pecs. Johnny pulled at the shirt, stretching it out and dropping it down again, wishing he’d worn something looser.

  No. He wasn’t going to hide anymore. He wasn’t going to pretend to be something he wasn’t. Billy knew the truth now anyway. He knew Johnny was gay and been informed by their father Johnny was a “filthy perverted faggot homo” with the photos to prove it.

  Johnny flushed as he relived that horrible moment. He’d just left Eric, their relationship hanging by a thread and very nearly over, Johnny confused and hurt. Letting himself into his efficiency late that night, he’d at first thought someone must have broken in until he saw his mother’s casserole dish beside the open album, its pages bent, the cover cracked as if it had been slammed against something.

  The feeling of violation had been sickening, made a thousand times worse by the fact it was his parents. He missed his mom but didn’t see how he could face her again. He missed Billy and Sandy, and their kids Jack and Emma. It was good he was seeing Billy today. He wanted to mend the tears in their family at least partially if he could. His dad and Hank could go to hell as far as he was concerned.

  “Hey, little brother!” Johnny glanced up, grinning despite his nervousness as he saw Billy striding toward him. He hadn’t been prepared for the emotion that welled over him at the sight of his brother after all these months. He wanted to grab him in a bear hug and never let him go but he was shy. Maybe Billy didn’t want a gay man touching him.

  Billy, beaming as he approached, apparently had no such reservations. Taking Johnny’s offered hand, he held it tightly, pulling Johnny into his arms. He reached up, ruffling Johnny’s hair as he said into his shoulder, “God, it’s good to see you, little brother. I’ve missed you. We’ve all missed you so much.”

  Johnny, who had held himself stiff as Billy had grabbed him, now returned the hug, tears clouding his vision. “Oh I’ve missed you too. You have no idea.” They stood in an embrace a few more moments. Johnny was the first to pull away. “Better cut it out, Billy. People will think you’re queer.”

  Billy laughed and they walked together into the deli. Over huge corned beef sandwiches, Billy filled Johnny in on the day-to-day life of Johnny’s favorite niece and nephew. They talked of little things—sports scores and the latest angry customer story at the shop. A few times Johnny started to bring up what had happened but Billy managed to change the subject. Whatever had happened was water under the dam. Good old Billy, who avoided confrontation at all costs, hadn’t changed, or so it seemed.

  “So you’ll come over this Saturday, right? Just low-key, we’ll grill some burgers, hang out.”

  “Just you and Sandy, right? No one else?”

  “No one else. Unless you want someone else?”

  “No, no. I’m not even sure I’m ready to see Sandy, to tell you the truth. I don’t think I can sit there and pretend everything’s the same, Billy. It’s not the same.” Billy started to protest, to say he didn’t need to say anything. Johnny pushed on, determined. “I live with a man, Billy. A man I’m in love with.” As Billy winced, Johnny went on, “You haven’t even asked me about him. You haven’t asked me a thing about my new life.”

  “Listen, Johnny. Sandy and I don’t judge you. You’re an adult. How you choose to live your life is your business.”

  “Even if it’s perverted and filthy, right?” Johnny meant to be funny, but his words came out bitter, tinged with anger.

  Billy flushed a little, looking down at his plate. “Well, those pictures, Dad said they were pretty, um, graphic. But hey, if you choose to be gay that’s—”

  “You don’t choose to be gay, any more than you choose to be left-handed,” Johnny interjected. “Shit, Billy. I spent my life so shut down and confused I didn’t even know I was gay, for crying out loud! It wasn’t an option. You did things Dad’s way. There was no other way. Period. If there’s any judging to be done, how about Dad? Is it right for a parent to dictate the behavior and choices for his kids? To decide unilaterally they will be a certain way, act a certain way, choose a certain career? Is that what you want for your kids? Would you have chosen to be a mechanic?” He waited but Billy didn’t answer. “You don’t even know, because it was chosen for you. Your whole life was written out for you and you’ve lived it like a good boy, Wilson & Sons ’til death do you part.”

  Johnny knew he was stepping over the line, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “The one thing you did right, in my opinion, was knock up Sandy when you were kids.” Billy started to interrupt, his expression offended. Ignoring the family’s unspoken edict that one never spoke hard truths aloud, Johnny was determined to say what was on his mind. “No, hear me out. You stood your ground because Sandy mattered. The love you felt for each other mattered. When you lost the baby,” his tone was softer, “everyone assumed you’d dump her. It would have been okay then, even expected. But you didn’t. Because you loved her and she loved you.

  “I’m in love.” Johnny couldn’t help but smile as the image of Eric wrapped warmly around him in his mind. “His name is Eric Méndez. He’s a psychologist in the city. He’s warm, loving, funny, handsome and smart. He makes me happy. I’m going to school now, Billy. College! I’m studying graphic design. I work in an ar
t gallery. I’m actually happy. How come none of this seems to matter? How come all the family seems able to focus on are some photos that were nobody’s business in the first place?”

  Billy stared at Johnny as if he didn’t know him. For a second Johnny wanted to take it all back. To rewind to where Billy “forgave” him for being gay and they would leave it at that—enough said. To his surprise, Billy said, “You’re right, Johnny. I apologize on behalf of all the Wilsons for how we’ve treated you. Not just now, but before. You’ve never been allowed to just be you. It must have been very hard for you all these years.”

  Now it was Johnny’s turn to stare. Warmth rushed through his veins and he felt his gut unclench just a little. He blinked away tears. “Well, yeah. It’s been hard. It’s not your fault. I mean, you’ve always been there for me, Billy. Even when nobody else was. You don’t need to take the weight for Dad and Hank. But I appreciate what you’re trying to say. It’s not even their faults really. I mean, Dad is Dad. And Hank never had the ego strength to get out from under his thumb.”

  “Ego strength, what is that? Some psycho-jargon from your fancy Manhattan boyfriend?” Johnny glanced up sharply, newly ready to be offended, but Billy was grinning, his expression friendly and teasing.

  Johnny relaxed. “Yeah, I guess so. He’s taught me a lot. There’s a whole world out there, Billy, beyond Brooklyn, beyond the garage. You don’t have to stay there, you know. It might not seem like it from where you’re sitting, but you have options. You don’t have to be a mechanic in your father’s garage for the rest of your life.”

  Billy smiled and leaned back. “No, because Dad won’t be there forever. Which means Hank and I will own the shop one day. He’s already drawn up the papers and showed them to us. Fifty-percent partners, once he retires, which he hopes to do in the next five years or so.” Billy sat forward, his elbows on the table. “I’m not like you, Johnny. I’m not smart and I don’t have dreams that go much beyond making my wife and kids happy, safe and comfortable. Sure, I’d like more money. I’d like it if Sandy didn’t have to work part-time as a nurse. And you’re right, I don’t stand up to Dad like I probably should. Hank doesn’t either. But to tell you the truth, I like my life. I like working with cars, taking something broken and solving the mystery of why and making it work again. I like where I’m at. I like knowing someday the son on the Wilson & Sons sign might be Jack.”

  Johnny nodded. Their worlds, in the space of a few short months, now seemed a planet apart. Johnny understood where Billy was coming from. Billy would never understand Johnny’s chosen lifestyle. Not in a thousand years. But maybe that was okay. It wasn’t Billy’s business about Johnny’s private sex life, just as he didn’t want to know about what Billy and his wife did in the bedroom. At least they were talking again and Billy seemed ready to accept Johnny for who he was.

  Billy looked at the clock over the deli counter. “Shit, I’m late. I told them I’d only be an hour at the most. Gotta run, little brother. See you Saturday, okay?”

  “You got it.” Billy reached into his pocket for his wallet but Johnny said, “It’s on me. And, Billy, thanks.”

  ~*~

  “That was good, but you seemed to struggle a little. Let’s try it again. Remember, the key is to totally relax your throat. Anyone can suck off a guy, but to do it with submissive grace is a very different thing. The key is to relax. To completely open yourself to your master.” Eric stood over Johnny, who was kneeling naked on the soft sheepskin rug in their playroom. Eric’s jeans were open and pushed just below his hips, his thick, hard cock wet with Johnny’s saliva.

  The lesson in the art of submissive fellatio was in full swing. “When you gag, that signals you are still holding something of yourself back. A true sub holds nothing back from his master. A true sub becomes the extension of his master, a malleable, obedient slave. That doesn’t mean a mindless robot, far from it.

  “It’s more subtle than simply obeying every directive. It’s a spiritual connection between two people where one leads and guides, the other follows and accepts. I know most players in the scene are impressed by how severe a whipping you can take or how big a cock you can take down your throat, or how big a dildo you’ll let someone shove up your ass. That stuff can be hot, I don’t deny it, but that isn’t what erotic submission is about. Not in my book anyway.

  “For us, grace enters the equation. When we go back to The Cavern, I want to show you off, sexy boy. And I will. So let’s try again. I’m going to slide this cock down your throat. Show me your grace. Accept my offering and worship it as you were born to do.”

  Johnny couldn’t control the shiver of anticipation. He was on his knees, kneeling up, his hands tied with rope behind his back. He was blindfolded, his lips parted as he waited to feel the soft, spongy head of his master’s thick cock. When the tip touched his lips, he greedily began to move over the shaft, his own cock tingling with need.

  “No. You stay still this time. Open your mouth and stay perfectly still. Whatever I do, don’t pull back, do you understand?” Johnny nodded, forcing himself to let go of Eric’s cock. He opened his mouth wide and waited.

  Slowly Eric began to slide the shaft past his lover’s lips, his teeth, over his tongue, down his throat. Johnny tried to imagine something very peaceful. He tried not to focus on the thick, long object lodging in his throat, as every time he thought about it directly, he invariably gagged. Eric did not like it when he gagged—he said it was the sign of a poorly trained slave.

  Think of clouds and water flowing in a stream, he told himself as he tried to keep his throat muscles open and relaxed. Eric pressed deeper so Johnny’s nose was now touching his master’s pubic bone. He was completely impaled on the thick shaft, his windpipe blocked. He couldn’t breathe but he didn’t pull away.

  Eric remained still, lightly touching the sides of Johnny’s face with his fingers. “Good, slave. Don’t move. This is what I want. I’m going to teach you to do this without thinking about it. And you’ll do it not only for me but for any man I choose to have you service.” Eric’s voice was low and sensual, taking on that husky sensual quality it acquired when he was very aroused.

  Johnny tried to focus on Eric’s sexy voice. He needed to breathe. He couldn’t hold his breath much longer. Surely Eric knew that. Surely just a second or two more and Eric would pull back, remove the block to Johnny’s airways and let him breathe again. Still Eric remained in position. Johnny felt his heart pounding, his chest heaving. He didn’t want to pull back but he had to breathe!

  A fraction of a second before he pushed Eric away Eric withdrew. Johnny gasped for breath, gratefully filling his lungs. He could hear Eric zipping his jeans. Eric removed his blindfold and knelt in front of him so they were eye to eye. “That was good, slave. I could see you fighting to maintain your self-control. And you won. But true grace will come only when the fight is gone. When you’re literally willing to die for me. Do you understand that?”

  Johnny didn’t respond. Was Eric seriously suggesting a submissive lover should be willing to die for his master? Didn’t that seem a bit extreme, to say the least? Or was Eric speaking metaphorically, poetically? Johnny wasn’t sure.

  Eric sighed very slightly and then kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Lesson over for tonight. Come try my homemade coconut ice cream. Maybe we’ll take a walk and you can wear the new butt plug I got for you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, slut boy?”

  Johnny shook his head, blushing. Eric only laughed. “Well, that’s okay. Because I would like it and that’s what matters, isn’t it?” Johnny sighed, feeling Eric’s hot words like a caress over his pierced nipples and his erect cock. Though he didn’t like to have a plastic or rubber dildo lodged in his ass when they went out, the delicious humiliation of knowing he had submitted at the hands of his lover left him with a raging hard-on. This, Eric told him, was proof he was a slut, a slut who needed to be reminded of what he was and who he belonged to. When Eric spoke to him like this, Johnny felt him
self lifted to a higher plane, an exalted, secret place where he felt all-powerful in his submission.

  He tried to understand this feeling, to figure out why he would be so turned on by being treated in a way that would have insulted and enraged a “normal person”. He tried to research it online, to see if others felt as he did and to understand why. He did find many, many others who shared this submissive sensibility, but he didn’t find a satisfactory explanation. Eric, laughing gently, had suggested a number of times it didn’t matter why. What mattered was it pleased and excited them both.

  After two large bowls of Eric’s delicious ice cream, Johnny was forced to kneel on the floor of the kitchen, lewdly spreading his own ass cheeks while he waited for Eric to return with his newest butt plug. As he waited, kneeling submissively, his cock erect as usual, Johnny remembered that first embarrassing, difficult time when Eric had ordered him to drop his pants and spread his cheeks for the narrow little dildo Johnny had purchased, his face on fire with embarrassment, at a local sex shop. Johnny had been too afraid then, his virgin asshole clenched too tight to accept the puny phallus. Eric had been very patient, letting him off the hook, saying it was his fault for pushing him.

  Of course now Johnny, used to Eric’s thick, hard cock thrusting into his nether hole, could easily accommodate a butt plug, at least the ones they owned. But Eric had bought something new, he had told Johnny earlier that evening over dinner. It was a battery-operated butt plug with a remote control. Eric, of course, would have the remote in his pocket as they took their little walk.

  Eric returned with the silicone phallus in his hand. Johnny started to lift his head but Eric said, “Forehead on the floor, ass up.” Johnny assumed the position, trying not to betray his nervousness. Though he loved the feel of Eric’s hot, perfect cock inside of him, he had never been able to fully acclimate himself to something foreign in his body. He didn’t like butt plugs, not for their own sake. Yet by the same token, submitting to this was arousing—he couldn’t deny it, nor could his cock, now springing to attention as Eric daubed some lubricant on his asshole before pressing the phallus carefully into Johnny’s ass.