Jimmy understood what was expected, but he wasn’t sure exactly what to do. He hesitantly rocked his head, his mind still reeling with the fact that he had somehow been convinced to take a cock in his mouth. He thought of what his father might say and grew anxious. He panicked. Leaning back in his chair, Jimmy let Bogdon’s penis fall from his mouth.
“Can I stop?” Jimmy whispered, his breath coming heavy. “Is that good? Can I go home now?” Bogdon chuckled softly. He shook his wet cock. Sighed. He pointed to one of the monitors mounted on the wall where a host of similar small black-and-white monitors were mounted. “You see here?” Bogdon said. Jimmy saw a uniformed security guard walking down a long corridor.
“Now watch here,” Bogdon said, pointing to another monitor that showed a different corridor somewhere. “Wait, wait. Watch,” Bogdon said, as he saw Jimmy’s interest wane. As they waited, Bogdon rummaged through the bottom drawer of an old wooden desk and dug out a magazine, which he kept folded in half in his hand.
“You see,” Bogdon said, his attention back on the monitor. The same uniformed guard from the earlier monitor appeared and ambled down the hall. “That is my partner,” Bogdon smiled. He let his T-shirt fall down over his stomach. His pants were still open, and the T-shirt covered much of his crotch as well. “He will be here, in this room, in, ah, maybe…” Bogdon looked at the monitors and considered. “Twenty minutes?” He shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, give or take a few minutes.
“We must be finished before he arrives,” Bogdon said. As he said this, he moved closer to Jimmy in the chair. “And to finish,” Bogdon smiled down at Jimmy. “You must make me come.”
Jimmy swallowed hard. “And if I don’t make it?” Jimmy asked. He felt pretty sure he already knew the answer.
“Deal off,” Bogdon said. “Partner here, I must call police.” Bogdon opened his magazine and began to leaf through its pages. He sighed, reached between his legs and lazily stroked himself. Jimmy could see the cover of the magazine in Bogdon’s hands featured a buxom blonde on her knees with a ball gag in her mouth.
Jimmy thought about his options. He could let himself get arrested and then tell the police Bogdon had asked him to suck cock. Was that even a crime? Jimmy doubted it. And even if it were, his father and the recruiter were both sure to find out. Not to mention all of his friends at school. Jimmy sighed. He’d already had Bogdon’s cock in his mouth. Even if he got busted for stealing, nothing could change the fact that he’d already sucked a cock. He was a cocksucker. Jimmy became aware of his own erection in his pants. He squeezed his legs together and enjoyed the feeling of his thighs pressing against his shaft. He would just have to finish. It was his only recourse. As soon as he thought it, he knew it was the right decision.
Leaning forward, Jimmy took Bogdon back into his mouth. Bogdon sighed. He reached down and raised his T-shirt to give Jimmy better access to his cock, but otherwise he kept his head in his magazine. Jimmy knew everything depended upon his own ability to quickly pick up cocksucking skills. It was all up to him. He had to suck this old man off. He started to work his head methodically back and forth. He quickly realized his biggest problem: he needed his hands.
“Bogdon,” Jimmy said, looking up. “Free my hands.” Bogdon tilted his magazine back to see the boy’s face. He grinned. He turned the magazine over to show Jimmy the picture he was looking at: a woman on her knees with her hands bound behind her back, her mouth on the cock of a man standing in front of her.
Bogdon chuckled. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so,” and resumed his reading. Jimmy licked his lips. Bogdon was being cruel, but Jimmy couldn’t worry about that now. He went into problem solving mode. Any apprehension he had felt about sucking cock was gone, replaced by the logistical challenges and limitations before him. While Jimmy was an inexperienced cocksucker, Bogdon was already pretty hard. And he’d been stiff for a while. Jimmy felt that his best shot was to make his mouth as wet as possible, and then use his slippery mouth to get in as many strokes as he could.
Jimmy scooped Bogdon’s cock back into his mouth. He nuzzled it, letting his mouth fill with saliva. He started to rock his head. Soon he could hear wet noises and felt his own spit dribbling down his chin. Occasionally Jimmy would stop sucking, open his mouth, and slurp the spit that was leaking out of his mouth. He did this to keep his mouth well-lubricated: he was a boy-powered, cocksucking machine. The muscles in his neck began to ache. Jimmy mewled and moaned with Bogdon’s cock in his mouth. At first, Jimmy made these noises because his own cock was hard, and it was rubbing against his underwear, and it made him feel so wonderful that he just had to moan. But then Jimmy eventually realized that Bogdon was enjoying his moans, too. Whether it was the sound of Jimmy’s moaning that turned on Bogdon, or the vibrations from Jimmy’s mouth on Bogdon’s hard cock, Jimmy couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he needed to continue moaning, as much for Bogdon’s pleasure as for his own. Jimmy put all he had into sucking the fat cock in his mouth.
Bogdon sighed. He tossed away his magazine and raised his shirt. He grabbed his cock in his hand, and put the other hand on the top of Jimmy’s head. Bogdon positioned himself so that only the head of his cock was in Jimmy’s mouth. Jimmy felt relieved and stopped bobbing his head. Jimmy could feel the saliva running freely down his chin.
“Okay,” Bogdon said. “Okay” Jimmy rested. His jaw hurt, his neck was sore. He wondered how much longer he could have sustained the pace that he had set for himself. He felt so grateful to let it all go. To simply sit in the chair and let Bogdon take over. “Okay,” Bogdon said again, in the clipped cadence of a man working himself towards orgasm, fucking Jimmy’s mouth with short, quick thrusts. Jimmy knew what was coming: Bogdon would soon fill his mouth with warm cum. He had known that was coming all along, but had forced the thought to the back of his mind. Everything had happened so fast. There was no time to negotiate. And now his choice seemed gone: if Jimmy pulled his head back now, Bogdon might not finish before his partner arrived. And besides the timing, there was also no guarantee that Bogdon would throw his effort into the mix were Jimmy to stop once more. Jimmy didn’t think he had it in him to bring Bogdon to the brink again, solo. No, it was far too risky for Jimmy to ask for a halt. Jimmy thought it might be best to just let things run their course. To take whatever the old man had to give. To receive his load.
While Jimmy secretly relished the idea of being forced to swallow, he also felt a little terrified. He allowed himself to whimper. Jimmy looked up at Bogdon with big brown moist eyes, and Bogdon had to have known what was in the boy’s heart. Perhaps it was even this very knowledge that sent Bogdon over the edge.
“Swallow,” Bogdon said softly, his voice thick with lust. Jimmy felt the warm cum at the back of his throat. And swallow he did. He gulped, in fact, to prevent himself from choking. And he twisted in his seat, all the better to feel the erection in his pants, rubbing against his thighs. “Swallow it all, little dove,” Bogdon said. “Swallow it all for me.” Jimmy flexed his buttocks, pressing his cock into his jeans. He swallowed numerous times, as many as it took, until Bogdon finally stopped shooting into Jimmy’s mouth. When Bogdon’s orgasm finished, he sighed heavily, then softly chuckled. He reassembled his clothes and looked to the monitors to assess his remaining time.
And Jimmy sat quietly, still swallowing; only this time it was his own saliva he accepted, a bid to temper the salty aftertaste in his mouth. When Bogdon had finished with his clothing, he leaned against the table. He put both his hands in his lap. He sighed.
“Stand,” he said, addressing the boy. Jimmy did as he was told, his head hanging. “Will you unlock me?” he asked. He did not look up.
“Soon,” Bogdon said. “Come first.” Bogdon waved him forward with small finger motions. Jimmy wasn’t sure what Bogdon wanted. The space was small. The place where he was standing was only a pace or two away from Bogdon. “Come,” Bogdon said. Jimmy took a step forward.
Bogdon reached out and grabbed the belt buc
kle of Jimmy’s pants. He gently tugged the boy forward, until Jimmy had to straddle Bogdon’s thigh. Jimmy looked up, his eyes wet.
“I’m not gay,” Jimmy hissed. Bogdon did not laugh. He simply took Jimmy’s hips in his hands and pulled the boy against his own sturdy thigh. Jimmy could feel his hard cock pressed against the man’s warm leg. Jimmy squirmed in protest, but it did little good to win his release: his hands were still locked behind his back and Bogdon held him in his powerful arms.
“Come,” Bogdon whispered. “Come for me.” Jimmy finally realized Bogdon wanted him to come. To shoot his cum into his pants. That was okay with Jimmy. He wanted to come. Badly. He wanted to stain his underwear and his pants. His protestations turned into awkward attempts to rub himself against Bogdon. But Jimmy found his position awkward. The only way that he could get his hips to move in the way he needed was to let himself go. To let the man before him take his full body weight. Jimmy knew there was very little time left. After a few unsuccessful bids to start a rhythm on his feet, he finally did it. He let himself go. He fell into Bogdon’s big tattooed arms.
And the big man held Jimmy as he squirmed, and his orgasm came quickly. Bogdon laughed as he felt the boy’s body stiffen. Jimmy nuzzled his face into Bogdon’s neck. Jimmy made a satisfied groan and came in his pants, feeling the warm semen spread against his own groin and leg. Bogdon held Jimmy for what felt to Jimmy like an eternity, a blissful infinity. Jimmy could smell the old man’s cologne. He let it fill his head.
Finally Bogdon pulled the boy to his feet. He stood behind Jimmy, turning him toward the door. Bogdon reached into his pants pocket and then whispered into Jimmy’s ear: “Listen to me: Do not. Hit me.” Jimmy hadn’t expected that warning. He craned his neck.
Bogdon unlocked his wrists. When his hands were free, Jimmy rubbed them.
“Go,” Bogdon said. “Hurry. Partner coming.” Jimmy opened the door. He stood on the threshold for a moment. His pants were wet. The cum was cooling and he felt vaguely embarrassed to wear a huge stain of cum out into the mall. He looked back into the little room, where Bogdon still stood; and something swelled in Jimmy’s chest. He opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it. Instead, he raced the few steps between him and Bogdon. The big man flinched in surprise. He leaned back with his eyebrows high. Throwing his arms around Bogdon’s neck, Jimmy let his body follow, pressing himself up against the big man’s sturdy frame. Jimmy held Bogdon for a moment, then Jimmy stepped back and let his hands come down over Bogdon’s stubbly cheeks.
With his hands framing Bogdon’s face, Jimmy stood on tiptoe and kissed Bogdon full on the mouth. Jimmy pressed his tongue against Bogdon’s lips, but the old man wouldn’t kiss Jimmy back that way, whether it was because the kiss was too much of a surprise, or because Bogdon didn’t kiss men with an open mouth, Jimmy couldn’t say for sure.
Jimmy laughed. Didn’t matter. He raced from the little room and then down the dimly lit hall that was for employees only and finally out into Murphy Mart. He passed the security guard he’d seen in the monitor, and Jimmy waved his fingers and just kept right on running. He ran until he reached the other side of the mall and then he stopped running and started laughing. Jimmy briefly considered stealing a pair of jeans to replace his cum-stained pants. But he knew he had to stay out of trouble. He knew he had to keep his nose clean. But now he also knew that sometimes a little bit of risk could be a good thing.
Sometimes a little jeopardy was exactly what a boy needed most.
MY BEST FRIEND’S DAD
J. M. Snyder
The first man I ever fell in love with was my best friend’s dad. Mikey didn’t know about it, of course, and neither did Mr. Pierce.
The dad was nothing like the son. I’d known Mikey since kindergarten, when he pushed me off the swing set on the school playground and had to sit in time-out for the rest of recess. His dad had a hard voice: rough, burned out from too many late evenings with his friends huddled around the dining room table, cigarette smoke stinging their throats and watering their eyes as they played hand after hand of poker. Whenever I stayed over on one of those nights, Mikey and I were confined to his room upstairs, out of the way, though not out of earshot. The men’s raucous laughter and coarse language made us envious. How I longed to have Mr. Pierce call me a dirty bastard one second, then clap me on the back and roar with approval at something I’d said the next.
Though most boys outgrew sleepovers once they reached high school, I still stayed at Mikey’s house a few nights every month. It got me out of my own home, and it gave me a chance to be close to Mr. Pierce, who probably never said two words to us on the nights I was there, but any small glimpse, any gesture, fueled my teenage crush. I wasn’t too worried about the kids at school finding out I slept over at Mikey’s, because we’d been friends for so long most people assumed we were a set. Wherever Mikey went, I wasn’t far behind.
The last time I spent the night was the Saturday before I left for college. My mother had begun to get weepy whenever she saw me, sniffling into a tissue and babbling about losing her “baby boy.” Please, I was eighteen, and the college I’d be attending was only a two-hour drive away, but to hear her tell it, I was practically taking classes on the moon. When Mikey called to see if I wanted to come on over, just for pizza and a movie, I couldn’t pack an overnight bag fast enough.
Sleeping over at Mikey’s meant an evening leafing through porno mags, playing video games and watching horror movies on DVD. Mr. Pierce’s poker buddies started showing up around six. While Mikey and I duked it out on one of his wrestling games for the PlayStation and kicked the shit out of each other, I could hear the men downstairs laughing and cussing. As much as I liked Mikey’s company, I wished I could join them.
We lost track of time. Finally Mikey tossed the controller aside and gave me a wicked grin. “How about you sneak downstairs and grab some beers out of the fridge?”
I gave him an incredulous look. “What? Hell, no. What if someone sees me?”
Mikey stood, stretched, and flopped sideways onto his bed, the springs creaking beneath his weight. Flicking up the bottom of his curtain, he craned his neck to look out at the street below. “Two of the cars are gone,” he said as he rolled onto his back. “It’s kind of late. I think the card game’s over. No one will see you.”
“Your dad,” I argued. I hadn’t heard Mr. Pierce’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, which meant he hadn’t gone to bed.
But Mikey shrugged that off, too. “Probably passed out on the couch in the den. You’ll be fine. Just go down, grab two bottles and run back up here. If he sees you, tell him you’re getting something to drink. He doesn’t have to know what.”
I still didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t see any flaws in Mikey’s logic or any reason why I couldn’t do it without looking bad.
“Come on,” Mikey cajoled. “What’s he going to say? You probably won’t even see him.”
Pushing myself up on my feet, I announced, “I have to take a leak.” I’d worry about the beers when I came back from the bathroom.
The moment I stepped into the hall, Mikey’s braying laugh erupted behind me as he shoved the bedroom door shut. I heard the insidious click as he locked me out. Angry, I stormed across the hall into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind me. “Asshole.”
Looked like I was going downstairs after all.
I considered hammering on Mikey’s door until he had no other choice but to open up. Then I figured Mr. Pierce would hear the commotion and come upstairs to yell at us, so I settled for hitting Mikey’s closed door with my fist, which set him snickering inside the bedroom—I know, I heard him when I pressed my ear to the wood. “You’re dead,” I growled, my mouth against the doorjamb. “See if I bring you any beer.”
“You better!” Mikey hollered. The closeness of his voice startled me—he was right on the other side of the door. I wriggled the knob but it didn’t turn, which meant he held it tight to keep it from rattling. “Yo
u ain’t getting back in here without at least two beers. One for each of us.”
I waited, silent, until I could hear him breathing; he must’ve pressed an ear to the door, listening to see if I’d left or not. So I hit the door again, harder this time, and heard a satisfying “Ow!”
Before he could open the door to retaliate, I hurried downstairs.
The first few steps disappeared quickly beneath my feet, but halfway down I paused. The darkness wasn’t as complete as I had first thought. The lights in the living room were out, and if I moved a little to the left, I saw the kitchen was dark as well. But another step brought me closer to the bottom of the stairs, where I saw a warm glow of light spread in a small circle from the doorway where the living room and dining room met. As I crept closer, one step at a time, I realized that the folding louvered doors separating one room from the next had been pulled shut.
That gave me pause. The glow I saw came from under the door, where the wood was warped just enough that it didn’t sit flush against the floor.
Straining to hear anything, I held my breath and listened. Someone cleared his throat, a discreet sound that told me Mr. Pierce was still in the dining room. Cards purred as he shuffled them, and a few poker chips clattered to the table as if he’d been stacking them out of boredom and they’d finally fallen over. But there was no other sound—no one talking to him, no nervous scuffling, nothing to indicate he wasn’t alone in there. If he caught me…
At the bottom of the stairs, I peeked around the wall to get a good look in the kitchen. To my surprise, those louvered doors were also shut, though they didn’t close all the way and the gap they left between the wall and the door allowed a shaft of light to penetrate the darkened kitchen. It illuminated an empty beer bottle that had been left on the counter so it cast an amber glow over the sink’s faucet. If I were quick, I could probably sneak in there, open the fridge really slowly so it wouldn’t make any noise, grab two bottles of beer and dash back upstairs before Mr. Pierce even knew I was there.
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