Summer of Sex with Cowboy

MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY

Chapter 46

By Donny Mumford

Derick now has a room in a boardwalk hotel, so there isn't any reason I need to come back here after our date. While Bruce is showering, I put a bathing suit and towel in the trunk of my BMW. Bruce said he doesn't want to know what I'm doing during the day, but, whatever it is, I should keep doing it. He said that because I haven't been crazy horny the past four nights, and, therefore, our nighttime sex is lasting longer. The fact he wants our sex lasting longer is incredibly encouraging, especially considering not too long ago, he said sex with me felt like a job to him, an obligation. Now he's looking forward to it. Hooray for both of us!

Back in bed, I pull his pillow over to press my face on it, smelling his sexy scent. It's five-ten, so I doze off until Bruce wakes me, "C'mon, Zach, get up!" As I quickly get dressed, he makes our take-out coffees and we're off driving to Atlantic City on this nice Thursday morning. As I drive out of the parking lot, the sun slowly makes its daily appearance on the horizon. It still feels weird being up and at 'em this early in the day.

Swallowing coffee, Bruce rubs my head, saying, "I noticed your fuzzy hair last night while you were licking my dick. How about if you get a haircut before dinner tonight." I nod, mumble, "Okay, um, do you mean from you?" He shrugs, "From me or a barber. Whichever you prefer." I tell him, "I prefer you do it. And, hey, I forgot to tell you I got a text from Cowboy yesterday while waiting on the beach for you." He asks, "What'd he say?" I go, "He's sick of Europe," and we both laugh. Bruce mumbles, "Spoiled brat, huh?"

Giving Bruce my cell phone, he reads Cowboy's full text that complains about all the sightseeing Lee insists they do. Cowboy has been to Paris three times before this trip, so...

Slipping the phone in my shorts pocket for me, Bruce murmurs, "He's a funny dude. I'm going to miss those two. That's another new thing for me, ya know? I mean, actually having a friendship with both Cowboy and Lee, and missing them when they're gone." It's a sad thing to hear that's how his life has played out so far, but I can't think of anything appropriate to say about it, so I pat his shoulder and don't say anything.

When I'm idling at the ramp for the boardwalk, Bruce says, "Thanks for the ride, Zach," and then he gives me a quick kiss goodbye. Then, out of the car, he's jogging up the ramp to the boardwalk. He wants to be at the cafe's front door when the owner shows up. A real go-getter, that's what my Bruce is.

Now, it's Derick who's on my mind. When I'm with Bruce, I don't think of Derick. I do now, though as I drive the short distance to his hotel on Ocean Street. He lied about being fat with cash when I first met him, but now he is fat with cash... my cash to the tune of over $3000. There are plenty of parking spots for the hotel at this time of the morning, and I park in one of them. After locking the car, I get two thousand dollars from the truck, plus the bathing suit I put there earlier, and walk up the ramp to the boardwalk. Some early joggers run by, and there are deliveries being made, but very few tourists are up and about at six o'clock in the morning.

With my swimsuit under my arm, I walk into the hotel and it occurred to me Derick never told me his room number. At the desk, I say, "Could you tell me Derick Summers room, please." The officious desk clerk goes, "We don't give out our guest's room number." I go, "Well, he's expecting me, so please call his room and tell him I'm here. My name is Zach McGag, um, McMann." He raises his eyebrows, an annoyed expression on his face; then, he does his 'effing job. A minute later, he says into the phone, "Yes, Mr. Summers," hangs up the phone and mutters, "Room 222, second floor." Oh, room 222 is on the second floor... no shit!

I used the stairs and then found room 222 at the end of the corridor. Derick opens the door before I knock, saying, "Get in here. I only have fifteen minutes for you this morning. Um, why do you have a swimsuit." I'm like, "Fifteen minutes? Why?" He goes, "Don't whine! I know you're disappointed, but Richard texted me last night to meet him at the locker room no later than six-thirty this morning. I don't know what he wants, but when Richard tells you something, you don't ask questions."

Well, this blows!

Richard probably has a recruit for Derick. I drop my swimsuit on the desk as Derick gets the paddle out. He's wearing only boxer shorts. Hmm, I go, "Ya know what, Derick? Richard probably has a recruit for you." Swinging the paddle, "Swoosh!" he says, "More likely he needs me to work the counter. Yeah, when I quit, I had to promise to fill in if someone is sick, or whatever." I go, "Oh, yeah? I hope that's it."

The swimsuit is forgotten, Derick is impatient, "Hurry up and get undressed and in position for your paddling." So, we have fifteen minutes. Well, that's enough time to get paddled, suck a boner on him, then get a good hard fucking and another paddling. And then what... that's it for today? Hmm, maybe I'm going to be knocking on Arnold's door after all. Dammit, best intentions down the drain.

Quickly undressing, I bend over with my hands on my knees. No hesitation by Derick... right away I hear, "Swoosh," as the wood paddle moves swiftly through the air, them, "WHACK!" and I go, "OW!" but it felt good. The 'Ow' is just a reflex reaction. Three paddles only, then Derick mutters, "On your knees now." Doing everything this quickly diminishes my submissiveness, which I find so attractive, so this is very disappointing.

Umm, as soon as I do a long lick up his cock from the head to the root, continuing the lick on up to his belly button, the taste and smell of his body are all I'm thinking about now. Yeah, I'm slightly addicted to Derick, but in a sexy way only. There's no relationship other than hired pussy boy and me as his client. It's a very different thing than having sex with Bruce. With Bruce, emotions and feelings of love add to the spectacular aspects of sex. With Derick, it's just the exhilaration of sex with a desirable sex partner. Not that that isn't pretty fucking good on its own, don't get me wrong.

However, what detracts from that is Derick making an exasperated exhale sound, then saying, "C'mon, Zach, speed it up." I tried unsuccessfully to turn that into something dominant, but he simply wanted to get this over with. Quickly I do lots of licking on the head and sucking on the shaft, soon realizing that I'm hurrying instead of forming a dreamy submissive trance.

Well, hurrying or not, his cock doesn't care. It's being stimulated, and therefore it does its job... it gets wicked hard. I push it up against his belly and lick his balls, but Derick pushes my head away, mumbling, "Good job, we don't have time for extras," and holds a condom packet down to me, saying, "Roll this on." A condom? Dammit, bareback is hotter.

Ripping the condom packet open, I roll the heavily lubed condom onto his boned-up penis as he mumbles, "Doggy style." I have nothing against doggy style, but it is the least intimate and least bodily touching of almost any position for fucking I can think of. He's short, though, so with him standing and me on my hands and knees, my asshole and his dick line up pretty well. Derick doesn't plow it in the way Bruce does; he gets the head at the center of my anus and exerts pressure, pressure, pressure until, "Ahhh!" the head of his hefty cock is now tightly inside my body, "Oooh!"

I'm taking deep breaths in and out, in and out, trying to embrace the pain, which, compared to the recent paddling, isn't all that bad. That's another reason I've come around and now like the paddling. Also, obviously, it's a very submissive thing being paddled. Plus, being a bottom and willingly letting someone fuck your ass is quite a submissive matter as well, so I slide into a shallow submissive frame of mind and enjoy feeling Derick pushing his hefty boner up inside me. It hurts as he's doing that but feels good too. It's like rinsing with mouthwash after brushing... the burn of the mouthwash makes you think it must be doing some good and, therefore, even though unpleasant... it's a good burning.

There's something wrong with that simile, but I'll need to figure it out some other time. Right now, Derick has pulled his boner back and pushed it right back in, getting my prostate involved now. It's beginning to buzz with early sexual pleasure vibrations. Derick does a few more long steady thrusts, and I hear him go, "Mmmm..." Yeah, he's in a hurry, but his boner's nerve endings don't care. They function the same whether he's in a hurry or not... they radiate pleasure. That's especially true for the first sex of the day.

Soon, I hear the slapping sounds as Derick gets enamored of the pleasure coming from his hard penis, and the two of us quietly moan and groan as he humps his hard cock back and forth inside me. It'd be tough to stop now that this constant flow of pleasure is being exchanged between the two of us. "Slap, slap, slap," and "Ahh, ahh, ahh," and, "Um, um, um..." It feels so good, Derick's fingers gripping my hips tightly, pulling my ass back into the thrusting of his hard thick cock, up and back, up and back, "Slap, slap, slap."

We leave all earthly concerns behind during this sexual endeavor, thinking about nothing except how good it feels for five, six, seven minutes until the inevitable happens. I felt my climax building as I expected it would, and then it didn't disappoint; my body jolts violently as "Ahhhh!" cum explodes from my hard cock hitting the floor between my legs. Derick grunts humping his load into the condom. All climaxes are special, and this one was too, but there are degrees of special.

Derick pulls out, and goes, "Oh, man!" As for me, I'm trying to catch my breath, my heart pounding, then I grunt, "Nice, that was good." And it was good. I can't complain even though everything was rushed. Derick drops some tissues next to me, muttering, "Please wipe that up." Nodding, I do that, and standing, I drop the tissues in the trash can next to the desk, mumbling, "It always feels like a river of cum when it's shooting out, but wiping it up it's like a smear, ya know?" Derick is in the bathroom flushing the condom, ignoring my observation.

Back in the bedroom, he picks up the paddle, saying, "Thanks for going along with this speedy escort service. I appreciate it, and I'll make it up to you, um, sometime. For now, hands on your knees." I do that and get three harder than normal paddles that don't feel good at all... they're too soon after the first three.

Standing up, making a face while rubbing my ass, I go, "Ow!" Derick chuckles, asking, "How do you like my room?" He holds out my boxer shorts as I glance around and mumble, "Snazzy." He goes, "C'mon, get dressed." I take my underpants from him and put them on, asking, "How much are you paying for the room?" He says, "Too much, um, and if you're right about Richard having a recruit for me, I'll be moving my ass back to the motel 'cause I won't be able to afford this place."

Putting my cargo shorts on, I'm like, "Even with a recruit, you can still service your favorite client, right?" He nods, "I was thinking that same thing, but right now, I need to get to the locker rooms." Huh, Richard has his boys jumping when he tells them to. Dressed, standing here in my sandals, I ask, "How much are you charging me for this quickie" He grins, pats my cheek, and says, "It's on me... no charge. Does that surprise you?" Shrugging, I mumble, "Slightly, yeah, but thanks."

He mutters, "Sure, no problem, but let's get moving." We walk out of the room together. As the door locks behind us, I go, "You've got fifteen minutes to walk six blocks. What's your hurry?" He shrugs, "I don't know. Richard makes me nervous." Chuckling, I'm like, "Would you like me to beat him up for you?" He goes, "Yeah, but don't mention my name while you're doing it, okay?"

Outside, he says, "I'll text you when I know if I'll be able to see you tomorrow morning." Nodding, "I go, "And I'll keep my fingers crossed that you can." He heads to the left, saying over his shoulder, "You're a good guy, Zach." I mutter, "See ya," and walk in the opposite direction to the ramp. Halfway down the ramp, I remember my swimsuit. Ha, it's on the desk in Derick's room. Well, I'm not going to the beach at six-thirty in the morning anyway.

Signing, I drive back to the apartment and go back to bed. When I wake up at nine-thirty, I feel rested and hungry. Ha, I'll have breakfast at Bruce's cafe! That perks me up. Plus, I'm not sensing horniness, not yet, I'm not. After doing my business in the bathroom, I put on a bathing suit; I have three of them. Wearing a polo pullover short-sleeve shirt, I drive back to Atlantic City. At this hour, the drive takes longer than it did at five-thirty because of the traffic, but I'm in no hurry.

While I'm driving, I'm trying to decide if I'll take the free sex with Arnold this afternoon or maybe try hooking up with Jon and pay for it. There's no question who I'd rather have sex with, but Jon might be pissed off at me for dropping him for Derick. That's if Jon even knows I did that. Hmm...

Or, maybe I'll skip the second sex today. No, I won't do that because I'm not taking any chances of screwing up what Bruce and I have going for ourselves with bedtime sex. That's going too well to take a chance eliminating the second sex today. Bruce told me to continue doing whatever I'm doing because that relaxes and relieves my horny condition. Currently, that means two or three sex activities before bedtime. Hmm, I'm leaning toward Jon. I'll try him first, keeping Arnold as a backup.

The thing is, if Derick needs to work the counter, that means Jon is out sick. I'll try his ratty apartment first and see if he's there, but that's for later. Right now, I wanna see Bruce and have breakfast. Yeah, it's kind of sick of me to only think about two things... sex and/or Bruce. I need a hobby. I mean, in addition to my sex hobby. Something that will keep me busy and get my mind off sex for a while. Physical exercise does that, like a mile swim, for example.

Walking on the boardwalk to the cafe, I see that many people are on the beach already. In the cafe, I find that it's still bustling at ten o'clock. Bruce comes to the small table I was seated at with a pot of coffee. Smiling, he turns over the coffee cup on the table and pours me a coffee, "A rare breakfast, huh, Zach?" I go, "Yeah, um, a change of plans this morning, unexpected change of plans." He says, "I'll bet you can handle it, though," and he grins, dropping a menu in front of me.

As I peruse the menu, it occurs to me that Jon isn't an option! He has that crude recruit, Billie, to deal with. No, I'm not paying for Billie's amateurish pussy boy sex. Hell no! Going back to the menu, I decide I'm having pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Bruce is back to take my order, then asks, "Is everything okay? You're not your normal super cheerful self." I go, "You know what? I'm happy you got this job and all that, but I'll be a lot happier when it's over and we're back to spending all day and night together. I miss my leader." He goes, "You're very nice to say that, Zach. The thing is, Anne told me just this morning she needs me through October. Apparently, many people like the shore when the crowds are greatly reduced, and the weather is still nice enough for the beach. I can't let her down."

He can let me down, though. Trying to act mature, act my age for once, I go, "Sure, I understand, but I still miss you." He pats my shoulder, and off he goes. Well, the hits just keep on coming this morning. On the plus side, Cowboy and Lee will be back tomorrow to keep me company on the beach, at least. The breakfast is okay, but the atmosphere is hectic, which, for some reason, makes me eat quickly. I hate eating alone anyway, but watching Bruce do his job makes me smile, which helps.

Leaving a stupidly large tip, I wave at Bruce as I'm leaving and, on the boardwalk, realize I don't know what I want to do now. Wandering down the boards, I'm soon at the locker rooms. Well, it's only a block and a half from the cafe. Leaning on the beachside railing, I light a cigarette and stare at the locker rooms' front door. Maybe Derick or Jon will magically appear. People go inside, then come out ready for the beach, but no magic happens.

Stepping on my cigarette butt, I shrug and walk off the boardwalk to Markie's rental booth. Keeping this shitty morning rolling along in the wrong direction, Markie's not here today... it's the grumpy older man who's waiting on a married couple. I rent a chair but not an umbrella because I don't want this old codger struggling to embed it in the sand for me. Taking the chair to my normal spot, I open it and think about Bruce. He looked so cute, bustling around as a waiter, smiling cheerfully, which isn't his normal demeanor. Yeah, but he's getting better at smiling and joking around outside the cafe too. With me, I mean.

Fantasizing about us working together doing, um, something, then just the two of us in the apartment after a good day at work making dinner together while drinking shots of Jim Beam with Bud chasers, talking and planning, maybe taking turns spreading that MAN creme on one another, then Bruce being our leader giving me haircuts and us making out and making love. It'll be perfect. What a strange and wonderful thing it is to be in love. Bruce is always mentioning new experiences now that he's living a 'straight' life, but being in love is a new one for me as well.

Two young guys walk past me laughing about something, one of them carrying a beach blanket. They stop about twenty feet down from me and spread the blanket. The way they were walking closely and how they do everything tells me they're boyfriends. Straight guys don't bump against one another, giggling. Plus, they have some gay affectations moving their arms, the hand on the hip pose, the tilt of their heads. Yeah, a couple of our gay-swishers bros who aren't harming anyone, just being themselves.

They're probably Bruce's age. He turned twenty-three a few weeks ago. That makes me realize something: very few pussy boys are obviously gay like these two gay guys are. Huh, I wonder if that's on purpose or if some of the pussy boys aren't even gay. The guy Bruce spent a winter with and gave him that job in Philly isn't gay, but he survived living on the street by doing gay sex.

The two gay boys are spreading sunscreen on one another the way I spread it on Derick, meaning under the legs of their swimsuit, with lots of giggling. Well, I'm not a giggler. They're not cute, but not terrible looking either. I wonder if they'd be interested in a three-way? That's a joke, but it's fun watching them. The taller one is a light-skin African American and the other a white blond-haired guy with long hair, but not as long as Cowboy's long hair was before Lee made him get a haircut. Cowboy's hair is the opposite now... it's as short as Mr. Patrick wants to cut it every ten days or two weeks. Haha, now that I think about it, in many ways, I've turned into an older version of Cowboy this summer.

If Cowboy wasn't traveling with me this summer, would any of what's happened to me have happened? So much has happened during this summer of sex, a summer of sex like none other I've ever had. No, I don't think any of it would have happened without him. Well, I'm positive it wouldn't have been like this because I wouldn't have stayed in AC for more than a night if Cowboy hadn't met Lee and asked if we could stay here a while longer. Nope, I would never have done the things I did here if I were by myself. God forbid I'd be alone this summer! I don't even want to contemplate that.

Ha, the two gay guys just went down the beach for a swim holding hands. Brazen of them, but good for them! Holding hands is a sexy thing to do, something I can't ever imagine Bruce doing with me. His version of holding hands is gripping the back of my neck and walking me where he wants me to go. All pussy boys do that, and I guess it's a hard habit to break. It sure is dominant, while holding hands isn't.

A little later, I go in the ocean, out quite far, and do a leisurely mile swim, half a mile down and back. Walking back to my beach chair, I pass the two gay boys but resist saying anything to them. It'd be fun talking with them, but they deserve their privacy. They're up on their elbows, closely facing one another, talking and giggling, unaware of the world around them. Looks like love to me.

Checking my cell phone, I see it's only eleven-thirty, so I really need to do decide if I'm going to knock on Arnold's hotel door at one o'clock or not. Fuck, no... I'm not doing that. He's got all that red course body hair; and that turns me off. The hairless pussy boys have spoiled me. And, why didn't Derick text me? He said he would. Hmm, well, why don't I see if I can find a pussy boy? I tried that one pussy boy here in AC on the street a few weeks ago, and he wasn't too cool. There aren't many around during the day anyway. What to do?

Well, hell, I'll go to the locker rooms and see what's up with Derick, and if he's not there, maybe a pussy boy will be hanging around. Getting up, I smile, thinking what Richard will say if he sees me. Haha, he won't say shit. He saw me that day when I was hustling Jon at the counter, and he, Richard, stayed clear of me. Not that I'd hurt him again, I'm not like that. I should be grateful to him, actually, and I guess I am. He made me see who I was, the real submissive bottom boy me, plus I'd never have met Bruce if not for Richard.

Glad to have decided to do something, I leave the beach chair, get my stuff off the towel under the chair, and head for the boardwalk. There are a lot of people on the beach for a Thursday. Tomorrow is when it really gets crowded, then the weekend crowd on Saturday. Well, three more weeks in August, then Labor Day, which is pretty much the unofficial end of the summer season at the shore because the kids go back to school. Bruce and I and the pussy boys will still be here, though.

Yeah, but how long will Richard keep the locker rooms open? Huh, I hadn't thought of that until now. Richard will need to be here to run his pussy boy operation. The casinos never close, so there will be clients, but not as many. Not that I give s shit...

Walking by the cafe, I try to see Bruce through the big plate glass window, but I can't. It's the busy lunch crowd now, so he's surely running around smiling. I turn at the locker rooms a little further down and brazenly walk right in, seeing Derick behind the counter. He looks up from folding bath towels when I say, "You didn't text me." He makes a face, then mumbles, "Oh, shit. Yeah, it's been busy. I'll be here until four." Nodding, I go, "Bummer, um, can I have a date tomorrow morning?" He shakes his head, "No, I need to do this through the weekend, but I might be getting a recruit. Richard's seventy-five percent convinced that this guy who just got out of the Navy is going to commit, and he's giving him to me. A hot stud, supposedly, but shy. Haha, shy like you."

Shaking my head, I say, "I'm not shy. Listen, even if you get a recruit, you can still fit me in. For Christ's sake, trainees are only on a six-hour schedule." He says, "We'll see. Anyway, Richard is in his office. Go over and ask him to hook you up with someone. He'll happily take your money." I'm like, "Seriously?" He goes, "What don't you understand... hooking guys up with escorts is Richard's freakin' job. He doesn't hold a grudge when money's involved. Plus, he's not as bad a guy as you think."

Hmm, maybe. Then, "Would he, um, let me hire him?" He goes, "No, but he'll provide you with one of his online guys. You'll need to pay the online massage fee, and then whatever else you do with the escort... you pay extra. You know how it works."

Tapping my foot, looking at the office, trying to decide, Derick says, "Go ahead and, um, tell Richard I referred you to him. Maybe he'll slip me a finder's fee. And, text me Monday. I'll see if I can fit you in, but it probably won't be at six-fifteen in the morning." Nodding, I go, "Uh-huh, okay." Then mumble, "Yeah, I'll text you, 'cause you're not too good at texting me." He shrugs, "You're the one who wants what I can provide; so reach out for it." I mutter, "Yeah, yeah, okay," and I tap the counter, then wander over to Richard's office feeling horny. Derick made me horny.

The door is open, so I tap on the molding, saying, "Hi there, Richard. Derick suggested I see you." Looking up, he has an incredulous expression on his face, then says, "Well, look who it is. What the fuck do you want?" I walk in and sit on one of the two chairs in front of the desk, saying, "Is that any way to talk to a potential client?" He rubs his face, then mutters, "It's hard to believe you're the same extremely submissive guy I met that unfortunate night seven or eight weeks ago. You fucked up my operation here and caused havoc in New York, and now, calm as a cucumber, you saunter in here like we're old buddies."

I go, "Well, ya know, you mistreated the guy I'm in love with, and it upset me, but now I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. Consider us even. Actually, I wanted to thank you for helping me to see my sexual nature. I once knew I was a submissive bottom but forgot. And, mostly, I thank you for introducing me to Bruce Dunlop. I love him. So there, we're all caught up." He says, "This is harassment, pure and simple, and I could call the cops on you for trespassing. I told you before; you're not welcome in my establishment." Shrugging, I go, "Well, what if I were to tell the policeman you're running boy prostitutes out of here? What then? Or, how about if I dragged your ass over that desk again and smacked your pretty face? What about that, huh?"

Rubbing his nose, he starts to grin, then snorts out a laugh, muttering, "The balls on you. Jesus!" I smile at him while thinking... he might be better looking than Cowboy. Richard goes, "So, whaddya want?" I say, "I'd like to rent one of your pussy boy escorts." He shrugs, "Drive down to the circle. I've got two working there right now." Shaking my head, I'm like, "I don't want to spend all day chasing one of them on the street."

Muttering, "You are a bad trip for me, McMann," and he fires up his laptop, adding, "It's three hundred upfront for a massage, and then..." Holding my hand up, I go, "I know how it works." He goes, "Yes, I guess you do. You were throwing a lot of money around in NYC, weren't you?" Shrugging, I leave it at that, and he turns his laptop around so I can see the photo of a pussy boy. Pointing at a handsome, mature Hispanic-looking guy, Richard says, "Manuel is very popular. He could meet you at your place in two hours." Shaking my head, I mutter, "He's too old and masculine. I go for young and cute."

As he's scrolling down his laptop, he mumbles, "Manuel looks mature and handsome, but he acts and sounds like a girl. Okay, here ya go," and he points at a cute girlie-looking young guy with a huge smile on his face, "This is a real cutie. He has a big dick too, and he uses it really well." The guy looks like a girl with eye makeup and, so... no. I roll my eyes at Richard, and he scrolls down some more, bypassing two hard-looking guys who could be thirty years old. He stopped at Billy's picture, saying, "He's not fully trained yet, but I'd give you a discounted date with this cute kid." Ha, I could get Jon in trouble telling Richard I've already had an amateurish date with Billie.

Instead, I mumble, "Who else do you have?" He looks disgusted, saying, "Why the fuck don't you go to the online site and do this yourself?" Smiling again, I'm like, "I'm enjoying the personal touch of doing this with you." Taking an exasperated-sounding deep breath, he flicks through more photos, then stops at a photo of a pussy boy I know. Keeping my face blank, I ask, "What's this pussy boy's story?" It's Dickie. The kid from outside the pussy boy club in Brooklyn. He fucked me in that van in the club's parking lot. Dickie and another pussy boy, Matt, I think it was Matt, were having a smoke when I stumbled on them.

Richard says, "He's a tough little hottie who was working for Brian Day out of Philly. Brian was in a car accident and has been laid up since June. I'm running a few of his escorts, and Dickie's one of them. I've got three of his boys living in a dump on Water Street." I'm like, "He looks a little weak, and I go for the dominant type." Richard chuckles, "Yeah, I know you do, but this kid is a firecracker, and, as a matter of fact, he was probably one of our boys being disciplined at the club when you busted up the place." I mumble, "I didn't bust up shit. Um, yeah, I'll give this, um, escort a try."

Snapping the laptop shut, he says, "Give me three hundred bucks, and I'll set it up for you. You get a nice body massage, and after that, you can arrange with Dickie anything else you want. I'm only responsible for the massage and, um... Well, I'll make sure Dickie will keep you company for an hour-long date." Chuckling, I go, "I guess, after the massage, we'll just talk for the rest of the hour, huh?" He shrugs, "I don't know or care what you do after the massage. That's what the $300 is for and it's where my responsibility ends." He holds his hand out, and, making a face, I dig three hundred-dollar bills out of my pocket and toss them on the desk.

Holy shit, this will be fun! Well, yeah, Dickie's dick is less than four inches long and not especially hefty, but he gave me a good fucking with it. Richards taps a button on his cell phone, then says, "It's me, Mike. Get Dickie ready for a date with a type 'S' customer. And, you tell him I know there will be extras, so he better not try holding back my percentage like he did last night, or his ass will be back at the club." He listens, then says, "I don't care. He can tell that to someone who gives a shit 'cause I don't. I'm doing him a favor." He listens again, then goes, "No, the client will pick him up in ten minutes or so." Listening, then, "Yeah, uh-huh, I know, and I don't wanna hear about it. See ya."

Putting the money in his desk drawer, he writes an address on a Pussy Boy Escorts business card, mumbling, "Ya know, you and I could be friends under different circumstances. You're an interesting motherfucker. I've never seen anyone as submissive to me as you were, but yet you're a tough motherfucking Navy Seal asshole at other times. What's up with that?"

Taking the card and standing, I wistfully say, "I couldn't begin to tell you, Richard. I don't understand it myself," and I walk out of his office three hundred dollars poorer but kind of excited about seeing Dickie again. I remember being really excited seeing those two pussy boys because I knew I'd found the place Bruce was at. Plus, as a bonus, I needed a good fucking, anyway. Sure, I thought I'd get it from the other guy. Instead, little Dickie with his little dickie was the one who walked me to the smelly van. They take turns, and it was Dickie's turn, but it worked out well. He was dominant enough and knew how to get the most out of his dick. Man, though, seeing him again is, um, a surreal deal.

Out of Richard's office, at ten-of-twelve, I go over to Derick, "Dude, thanks for suggesting I see Richard. We worked out something." He asks, "Who with?" Shrugging, I go, "Someone named Dickie. A smallish guy about nineteen or twenty." Shaking his head, he mutters, "I think he's a New York City kid, or maybe Philly. I don't know him. Whatever, call me Monday!" Waving a hand at him, I walk out smiling. Hot damn, what are the odds of me ever seeing Dickie again?

Timewise, I'm good. It's only twelve o'clock, so I'll have a full hour with Dickie, then chill out until meeting Bruce on the beach at three-thirty. After programming the address in my GPS, I follow the directions and quickly realize it's close to the dumpy place Jon lives in. I pull up to the building and immediately see Dickie. He's sitting on the steps smoking a cigarette.

He doesn't pay any attention to me as I pull over at the other side of the street, so I tap the horn. Looking over at me, he does a double-take squinting, then slowly gets up, and the cheeky little fucker takes his good old time getting over here, the cigarette hanging from his lips. I've got the top down, so he comes to the driver's side, "I know you from somewhere, don't I?" Nodding, I go, "How could you forget that wonderful time we had in the van outside the NYC pussy boy club?" Snapping his fingers, he goes, "That's it! Yeah, hey, you're the pussy boy who was looking for your mentor and main man, right?"

As he's walking around to the passenger side, I say, "Something like that, yeah." He opens the passenger side door, and I'm like, "Lose the cigarette." He gets in, holding the cigarette in his fingers, and says, "No, why should I? You've got the top down, don't be a dick... drive on!" Swell.

As I pull away, he takes a deep drag off his cigarette, exhales the smoke in my direction, and says, "Goddamn, you're the guy who fucking walked right into the club and took your main man out with you." Nodding, I say, "And you're the dude who fucked me in the van." He inhales some smoke, then exhales as he's doing a big yawn. He goes, "Uh-huh, and now that we've taken our trip down memory lane, let's get down to business. First, can we do away with the bogus body massage bullshit?" Haha, I go, "Well, as I recall, you took charge in Brooklyn, so I assume you'll be in charge today, so you decide." He smugly says, "Well, no shit, I'm in charge, but Mike told me Richard has a rule that you as the client need to say the words... it's okay to skip the massage."

Fuck that. I say, "If you put it that way, then, no, I want the full body massage." Muttering, "Fuck...", he rests his head back on the seat and takes another drag. Jeez, Dickie was sharp-looking at the club. Clean and freshly barbered, and now he's not. His dark hair is long enough that he could comb it if he wanted to, which he obviously hasn't bothered to do. His hair is disheveled as if he just got out of bed, and looking like it hasn't been washed recently. His pussy boy uniform is wrinkled, the polo shirt has food stains on the front, and his tan cargo shorts have what appears to be piss or cum spots dried around the zipper.

He's about five-foot-eight and maybe a hundred and twenty pounds with, as I mentioned, a small penis which I tried convincing myself was four inches. It's not that long, though, and it's proportionately thin with a mushroom head instead of a pointy head that you see on most small penises. Still, he gave me a pretty good fucking with that little dick. I need a good fucking 'cause, as I said, Derick got me horny. Also, I'm interested in what Dickie has to say about what went on after I left the club with Bruce.

After flicking his cigarette butt out on the street, Dickie asks, "Where the hell we going?" I say, "Not far. I'll rent a room at a hotel I stayed at when I first got to AC." His eyes are closed as he mutters, "That'll be a nice change for me. Two o'clock this morning, a fifty-some-year-old man was fucking me in the back seat of his Mini Cooper that smelled like ass." I make a face.

Yeah, I'm renting a room because it's twenty minutes each way to my apartment, and that would only leave twenty minutes with Dickie. I ask, "What time did you get in last night?" He mutters, "Seven o'clock this morning, and then Mike wakes me up fifteen minutes ago and gets my ass off the couch because you chose me to service your sexual needs. Thanks a lot!" I mumble, "And you slept in your clothes, didn't you?" He goes, "Yep," then he sarcastically adds, "But I brushed my teeth." I mumble, "Hilarious. Um, does the concept of tipping hold any interest for you? You're almost falling asleep, plus you're giving me a lot of shit."

He shrugs, "You'll get your money's worth." I go, "As soon as we get in the room, you take an 'effing shower." He goes, "Fine by me." Hmm, I go, "You know what? I know this doesn't cost extra, so don't try saying it does, but I wanna do the pussy boy shower with you." Shrugging again, he mutters, "It's your dime, do what you want, um, within the limits that I set."

It'll be fun bathing his little body. What am I saying, "He's bigger than Jon or Derick. Not a lot bigger, but maybe an inch taller. I guess they all weigh about the same. Dickie is cute in the way youthfulness is cute. His skin looks new, and his facial features mostly go together, plus he has a heart-shaped face and sexy lips. It's his nose that's a problem. It's not too big like most guy's noses; his nose is too small, making his upper lip too long. And, yes, I know that most guys wouldn't notice that or care about it. Well, I don't care about it either... just saying.

Hmm, but he does have those sexy lips! I pull up to the hotel, the one Cowboy and I first stayed at in Atlantic City. Turning to Dickie, I ask, "Do you offer the twenty-five dollar a minute make-out?" He goes, "Yeah, of course, with a minimum of two minutes." Same price Derick charges. I nod, "I'll go for the two-minute make-out after we shower." He shrugs for the fifth time in the five minutes it took us to get here.

With Dickie sitting in the lobby, looking like he's going to fall asleep, I rent a room, not a suite. Motioning for him to meet me at the elevator, he strolls on over and says, "Give me the key card. I've gotta take charge of everything because you're what we call an 'S' type client." Gee, I wonder what the 'S' stands for? Rolling my eyes, I sarcastically mutter, "Yes, Dickie."

The elevator doors open on the fifth floor, and Dickie lazily reaches up to grip the back of my neck; his fingers dig in as he sighs like it's just another boring obligation of the job and mumbles, "Get moving." The arrow on the wall indicates room 525 is to the left, so that's where he pushes me. Walking down the corridor, I ask, "Tell me something... have you ever heard of pussy boys who include mandatory fifty dollars paddling?" He says, "Of course, for clients who enjoy being extra submissive, like you, apparently. Mike didn't say anything about paddling, though. It's not routine here, but it is in Philly and Delaware." I ask, "Do you have a paddle?" He goes, "All pussy boys need to pay for one, but no, I don't have one now. Somebody stole mine when I was at the funhouse. Why? Are you saying you wanna be paddled?" He sounded eager.

Do I want that? I don't know, so I say, "You're in charge, so..." He goes, "There's room 525." He opens the door, and we go into a generic hotel room with two double beds, a desk, plus an armchair. Letting go of me, he says, "The fifty dollars is for two paddlings. One before I fuck you and one after. If you insist on it, I can find something besides a paddle to use." I shake my head, "Nah, never mind. It's the paddle that makes it seem special. "He goes, "Who paddled you?" Waving my hand, I go, "It's not important, nobody. I just heard about it."

He goes, "Get undressed and, um, how the hell do you know about the pussy boy shower, anyway?" As I'm dropping my clothes on the floor, I go, "Some guy told me some of it." He goes, "Hey! Put your clothes on a chair, not the floor. And, who the hell is telling you all this shit; the fifty dollars paddling and the shower technique, and the twenty-five-minute make-outs?" I go, "I already told you, I forget his name. A random pussy boy on the street a couple of weeks ago."

When we're naked, I'm like... wow, he has a hotter little body than I remember, but then, it was so dim in the van I couldn't see clearly. Dickie's totally hairless, of course, but his dick looks even smaller than I thought it was. He seems perfectly comfortable with it, pulling on it, saying bossily, "Get the shower running. And, um, I don't want the water too hot."

I'm purposely not staring at his dick, but it has to be the smallest one I've ever seen. Well, I never saw another guy's dick until prep school. Then, as a thirteen-year-old gay boy, I looked at a lot of dicks in the gym showers without ever seeing a penis as small as Dickie's. He sure has the right nickname... Dickie. I wonder when he got the nickname. Probably the first time another kid saw Dickie's dickie.

I'm holding my hand under the shower's flow of water as I ask, "Is your real name, Richard?" He mutters, "No, it's Erick. Get in the shower." It's a tub shower, so I pull the shower curtain back enough that I can step into the tub without getting water on the floor. Erick, following me, says, "Turn a little more cold water on." After doing that, I get the tiny bottle of shampoo from the complimentary toiletry items at the corner of the tub, then get Dickie under the water flow. He closes his too-close-together brown eyes and turns around under the flow of water. Now that he's soaking wet, I get him positioned with his back to me, away from the main flow of water. His body language tells me he's exhausted.

As I unscrew the cap on the shampoo, he mutters, "This is on your dime, and just so ya know, the clock has been ticking on your hour from when you picked me up at noon." Who cares? I'll hire another hour if I need to, but, Goddamn, I'd like to hug and kiss this pussy boy. He seems so small compared to me. Jeez, look at his tough-looking, almost skinny body. Yeah, skinny, but it is sculpted nicely. And, Omigod, look at his cute ass! Grinning, I bend my legs to bump my junk against his cute ass, then straighten up and pour shampoo on Dickie's head. I shampoo his hair roughly, scaping his scalp with my fingers, eventually pulling the back of his head against my chest as he says, "You're too rough."

That makes me smile again. Then, with my hand full of shampoo lather, my hand moves up his forehead and back through his hair, flattening it going straight back on his nicely shaped head. All the hairs lie flat because they're all at least an inch long. Holding his head against my chest, I ask, "Why isn't Richard making you get a pussy boy haircut?" He mutters, "He hasn't seen me yet, but his lieutenant, Mike, said I need to get one tomorrow at the latest." I go, "Good, 'cause I might hire you again tomorrow, and I like the true pussy boy experience. I'm getting a haircut this afternoon from my, um, ex-mentor." He mutters, "Whoop-dee-do for you."

Turning him around, getting him under the water to rinse out the shampoo, I go, "You've got a hot little body, Erick." He goes, "Call me Dickie!" Haha! I go, "Yes, Dickie." He's a little tiger, just like he was in the parking lot, although he was nicer once we got in the van.

His hair is rinsed, so I move him out from under the water, his back to me again, then I get lots of bath gel on my hands, saying, "Close your eyes and mouth." He mutters, "No shit," and I wash his face, ears, and neck. After turning him under the flow of water, rinsing his face, then turning him back, he says, "You're pretty good at this. Do you always give your hired pussy boys a shower?"

Ignoring that, I get more gel on my hands and rub it on his shoulders and down on his hard chest. He grumpily says, "You're supposed to use a washcloth." I ignore that too and say, "How come you're not as nice as you were in the van?" He says, "I was dominant in the van." I go, "Yeah, but you were nicer." He says, "Well, I didn't know you were an 'S' type client then, did I?"

Rubbing my soapy hands down to his stomach, I say, "I like nicer dominant pussy boys, so be nicer if you want a big tip." He says, "I'm tired, so you're getting the best I got at the moment." Oh, man, he only got four hours of sleep last night. I say, "Listen, you can sleep here for an hour before we start." That will work... I'm not meeting Bruce until three-thirty, and that's a little over two hours from now. And, I wanna be totally horny-free when I meet him.

Dickie is being cooperative with the shower; I think he's enjoying it. Washing his little privates, my forefinger and thumb rubbing bath gel back and forth on his little penis, getting it hard, and it's still not four inches long. It's closer to a three-inch boner! Here's something positive, though. The head swells out to form like a hard bulge at the bottom of the head. That will ring my prostate gland's bell and get that gland vibrating with pleasure.

By now, after all this rubbing on his hot little body, needless to say, my six-inch penis is bone-hard too and bumping him now and then. My sudsy hand cup and rub his scrotum as he sighs and docilely lies back on me. Hmm, I'm beginning to wonder if he'll fall asleep before I'm done. With my arms around him, I ask, "How about that nap?" He nods his head, "Yeah, okay, but finish bathing me first. And, if you're planning to nap with me, it's a hundred bucks." Getting in front of him, going down on my knees, I wash his legs and his little size seven feet as I mutter, "Yes, I plan on napping with you." He mutters, "Good, I need the money.

I like almost all the pussy boys I've met but feel very, very sad for most of them, including Dickie. Sure, there are a few asshole pussy boys, but mostly they're all sad cases of misfortune and bad choices. After spending more time washing his butt cheeks, more time than was actually necessary, I wipe his back, get him under the water flow rinsing him off, then turn off the water. Getting out of the tub, I lift him off his feet, bringing him with me. He goes, "Hey!" but that's the extent of his protest.

He stands here and lets me dry him, then, as I quickly dry myself, he mumbles, "Money is due upfront." He can hardly keep his eyes open, but he remembers his pussy boy training... get the fucking money before anything else! I'm like, "Yeah, sure," but walk him to the bed, pull back the cover, and get in bed with him. His eyes are closed, but, from habit, he puts his arm out like every pussy boy I've ever slept with. I lie against him, and, without saying anything, he falls asleep with his arm behind my neck.

Snuggling against him, my arm across his tight chest, I fall asleep too.

Some internal clock in my brain wakes me. I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand and see it's one-ten as I slide away from him and off the bed. Padding into the bathroom, I piss, wash my hands, and then splash water on my face. Okay, I'm feeling good, although, after napping with Dickie, I'm horny as a buzzard. I mean, it's been seven hours since that fast fuck with Derick this morning.

In the bedroom, I shake Dickie's shoulder. He wakes up with a start, his body jerking as his eyes snap open, and he's immediately alert. He says, "Okay, then, let's get to it." Crawling out of bed, he goes, "It'll be upfront money. The way I see it, it's a hundred for sleeping with me, fifty dollars for the two-minute make-out you mentioned, and I expect you'll want to suck a boner on me, so that's fifty bucks, then a hundred for a good fucking on your ass. That's, um, three hundred dollars." He holds out his hand as I try not to laugh. You know, the audacity of these pussy boys!

Getting three hundred bucks from the pocket of my shorts, I hand it to him, saying, "You gotta kiss back during the make-out." He makes a face, muttering, "Duh! It wouldn't be a make-out if I didn't, would it?" I don't know why, but I really like this little pisser. As soon as he puts the money in the pocket of his stained, wrinkled cargo shorts, I put my arms around him and lean down to kiss his bow-shaped pouty lips. He kisses back, putting his arms around my waist, although they don't make it all the way around me.

I take two steps forward, and he falls back on the rumpled bedcovers, his feet still on the floor. I don't want to crush him, so I'm not fully lying on him; my arms on the bed partially support me. Dickie's arms are now around the back of my neck as his tongue moves on mine smoothly. Wow, he's a hot make-out, almost making me think he means it. I know better, though, as his little dick stays flaccid even as my much larger one is getting hard... again.

There is soon mixed spit around both our mouths and then Dickie wraps his legs around my waist, my boner poking his belly. He sucks on my upper lip, then sucks on my tongue before doing sucking kisses. My full-fledged boner touching him, my eyes closed, as I'm making low, "Umm," sounds in my throat. Then, his legs drop off me as his arms come away from my neck to push up on my shoulders, his head going to the side sliding away from my mouth smearing our combined saliva on my cheek as he says, "That was more than two minutes. Stop it, or it'll be another fifty."

It's not that I care about another fifty bucks, but the abrupt stopage makes me feel silly for getting aroused. He's good... I almost thought it was real. Standing, I go, "Hey, you're a pro, ain'tcha?" Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he says, "It didn't take much acting 'cause you're maybe the most attractive client I've ever had, and I'm surprised you need to pay for it." I mumble, "Thanks, everybody says that. But, hey, do you tell all your clients the same thing?"

He gets off the bed, "Not that, no. Other lies though, yeah, it's part of the job to make it a pleasant experience for clients... obviously." He walks away, saying, "Let's see what's in the convenient bar." Every pussy boy I've had in a hotel room or my apartment brazenly wants something to drink or eat. Dickie kneels and opens the door to see what's available in the rooms little refrigerated convenient bar, then he looks over at me and asks, "How about a beer?" Shrugging, I go, "Yeah, why not?"

We put on our shorts and then take our nine-dollar cans of beer out on the balcony, where we light two of my cigarettes. Dickie says, "You're an excellent client, um, what's your name?" I tell him, and he says, "And, yeah, Zach, we tell all the clients they're excellent, but in your case, I actually mean it. The shower and a nap were considerate of you. Um, but you're supposed to be an 'S' type client, and you're not acting submissive." I shrug, "Aren't you supposed to make me sense submissiveness somehow?" Gulping down some beer, he goes, "But you want me to be nice too, so that makes it hard to be both things."

Exhaling smoke, I go, "Actually, this is fine. I'm enjoying myself. Don't worry about it." He snorts, "I'm not worried about it. I've got three hundred dollars in my pocket... what, me worry?" I chuckle, "A Mad magazine reference, eh?" He drinks some beer and goes, "Ya know, there was a lot of improvements made at the club after you pulled your stunt of kidnapping that guy. Most of the guys didn't even know what happened; they had no idea you did that. All they knew was life got easier. Not easy, but easier."

Huh, I thought I wanted to hear about that, but I don't. That club should be burned down with the clients in it. Well, the pussy boys need to escape first, then burn it down. I put my arm across Dickie's slim shoulders and pull him against my side, asking, "Can I hire you for tomorrow?" He says, "Probably, but you need to go online or go through Richard again. I'm not allowed to freelance." Balls, going online is stupidly expensive; that extra three hundred bucks.

We finish our beers and cigarettes, and, inside again, he says, "I want to get the massaging out of the way, so take your shorts off and lie on the bed." That sounded slightly dominant, so I do what I'm told. Dickie climbs on the bed and straddles my hips, a knee on each side of me. Sitting on my privates, he says, "I should have asked you earlier, but do you want a jerk-off climax to the body massage? That's another fifty bucks." I go, "Yeah, sure. It's either that or I'll blow my load sucking a boner on you." He gets off my body, saying, "Give me the fifty bucks then." Jesus!

Making a seriously annoyed face at him, I get off the bed, pull a fifty-dollar bill from my shorts, show it to him, then stuff it in his shorts' pocket. He nods, "Good, c'mon back and get on the bed." I do that, and he straddles me again, inching up until he's on my chest. He starts by massaging my scalp, and that feels good. I also like that his tight albeit skinny body is right over my face. I can smell his personal scent through the scent of the bath gel, and he has a normal male teenager's scent... nice!

Dickie is conscientious and does a hell of a job massaging all parts of my body, leaving my private parts for last. He has strong hands and was trained well as a masseur. When done with the front parts of me, he has me turn over, and he really relaxes me doing my shoulders and back, then moves down each leg squeezing and whatever leaving me tingly all over. He gives a lot of attention to my buttocks, even rubbing my anus until I have a roaringly hard boner. When he gets me to turn over, except for my boner, I'm as limp as a wet noodle.

His hands moving around my groin, pushing and squeezing, make me moan, 'Umm, ahhh." Finally, he strokes me off. It takes only three strokes up and down my boner that's sticking straight up. I groan, scrunching my face and lifting my hips as a long stream of cum arches to the left and lands just past the side of the bed to make a dull splat on the rug.

Holy shit, I've got shivers all over me. He's off me and then off the bed and into the bathroom to wash my cum off his hand. He didn't even spring a boner, his three-inch flaccid dick moving from side to side as he walked into the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, "Just a reminder, we're down to the last twenty minutes of this date." Damn, we wasted too much time drinking beer and smoking, and then he took almost ten minutes for that fantastic body massage, but that was time well spent. I'm so loose feeling. Jesus, I'm not sure I can stand right now... and that orgasm felt awesome!

He's back, saying, "I'm feeling generous. Do you want a free spanking, just for the hell of it?" Shaking my head, I go, "Nah, I'm not in a submissive mood for some reason." He goes, "It's free, and I'll give you a really hard spanking." I go, "No thank you." He shrugs, and I mumble, "Give me a few minutes to recover from that orgasm I just had, and then I'm looking forward to sucking your junk and getting a good fuck on my ass." He goes, "Well, you've certainly hired the right pussy boy for that. Let's share a beer. That first one was tasty."

He gets another nine-dollar can of beer from the hotel's little money-maker refrigerator, and we share it while sharing a cigarette on the balcony. Jeez, I can't get over Dickie saying he's the right pussy boy to give my ass a good fucking. He left himself open for a person, not me, but some crude person to mention he's got a three-inch penis... seriously, a good fucking? Well, he did give me a decent fucking in the van that time, but for him to brag about being a stud-man, that's a bit over the top.

He talks about being transferred to Richard's group here in AC. "Richard's step-father is the real brains and, I guess, CEO of all the pussy boy organizations. Richard talked him into assigned a working pussy boy to him, to Richard, as compensation for losing a mentor, plus losing the mentor's trainee who turns out to be you. I was the one selected and assigned to Richard, and I'm fine with it because the next day, I was out of the club and in that shitty apartment where you picked me up. And, I've made fifteen hundred dollars in nine days. I go, "How much do you get to keep?" He says, "It averages out to about a third, but they bullshit us that they're putting some of their share in a CD for me, for each pussy boy, and we'll get that when we leave the organization."

Ho ho, and there's an Easter Bunny too.

Sharing the beer and cigarette, passing them back and forth, is quite intimate. As I said, I like this kid. He was hot shit in Brooklyn but kind of mild and friendly here. I guess that has something to do with his lack of sleep. Well, we've got ten minutes left, so I say, "Can we do it now?" He nods his head toward the sliding glass door, and we go inside, closing the sliding door behind us because it's hot outside.

He says, "Drop to your knees and get me hard, but stop sucking when I drool precum." Forcing a cough, my hand going over my mouth to hide a grin. Damn, I looked at his little wiener as he said that and almost laughed out loud. It's just that, well, he has to know it's tiny, right? Why doesn't he ever refer to his startling undersized penis? It's just, um...

Anyway, I don't want to laugh at him, and as I've said five or six times, he gave me an okay fucking with that little prick of his. Getting on my knees and hunching over, I get the grin off my face and mumble, "Sure, okay." Obviously, I know he's clean since I bathed him, so I don't hesitate to do my normal long licking, starting at his dick's head and going up from there to his belly button. His stomach is hard, so he stays in shape somehow, and he has a nice scent, and he's a young man, so I get into it and give his private area, especially his normal-size balls, a good tongue licking before picking up his dick. His penis firmed up a little during the tongue bath, so I put all of it in my mouth. The head doesn't reach the gag reflex area at the entrance to my throat, but I think it will as it gets harder.

Sucking and licking on his entire cock for fifteen seconds or so, I feel it getting a little longer and fatter. What I notice the most, though, is the growth of the head and especially the swelling at the bottom of the head that's already quite hard. That's what I'll notice in my ass, and I'm looking forward to it.

Backing my head off a little, I concentrate on just sucking and licking the swollen head that, from experience, I feel has gotten almost normal size while the shaft remains, um, less than in the normal range. Dickie is making lots of grunting sounds, rubbing my head, then holding my head, his scent is really noticeable now, and I like doing this even though, for the second time during sex today, I'm not the least bit submissive. Then, there's the unmistakable spurt of precum, and Dickie is pushing my head away.

He says in a breathy manner, "Get a condom from my shorts." It occurs to me that he's just as dominant as he was in the van, which is to say, not vary, and yet it affected me back then. It's not having an effect today, though, so what's up with that? Anyway, I reach in the pocket of his shorts that he put on the bed and pull out one of the same condoms he had in the van. The packet says they're for smaller penises. So there's that...

"Put it on my boner," he tells me. I rip open the packet, anxious now but still not in a submissive way, then roll on the condom. Without being told, I drop to my hands, so I'm on my hands and knees, accommodating the difference in our sizes. He mutters, "Good," and gives my ass a hard spanking for like thirty seconds until I go, "Hey! What the fuck?" When I turned my head to say that, I was looking right at his boner, and I swear it got harder during the spanking, so that gets him off, I guess. The little perv...

Whatever, he thrust his cock inside me all the way with one BANG. Yeah, it hurt! I go, "Oh, ow," and he smacked my ass again, then begins a hard fast fuck, and I'll be damned if I don't sink into a pleasant submissive sense with pain and pleasure vying for my attention. God, this feels good as the pain takes a hike, and I'm getting waves of pleasure. His cock feels a lot bigger than it is. That's because of the head, plus he's fucking me so fast I can't tell if his thrusts are seven inches or three as his cock swells up to a hard bitch of a boner.

My back arches as I go, "Ah, ah, ah, Ummm..." the slapping sounds of Dickie smacking his groin area against my buttocks, "Slap, slap, slap," happens fast as the thrusts are less than four inches long., "Slap, slap, slap," relentlessly.

No matter how long or, um, short his thrusts are, that swollen head on his boner is playing havoc with my prostate although not nearly as much with the tight lips of my asshole, though, because the boner's shaft isn't that wide, but the constant stimulation on my prostate more than makes up for that. With a screech, I blow my load faster than I did a few hours ago. Second, orgasms this close together should hold off longer. Not so, though, as I gasp out, "Ahheeeii," cum blasting from my steel cock that's been pointing straight out, meaning straight down in my doggy-fuck position. Oh man, swarms of sensations, waves of sensations of pure sexual pleasure spread out from my cock and balls, making me shudder than again as Dickie immediately pulls his wooden pencil stub of a boner out of my ass, smacks my buttocks, and mumbles, "That should do it," and he off to the bathroom to flush the condom without even climaxing.

I'm still on my hands and knees, shivering at the sweet after-effects, my dick still vibrating. Looking at the splat of cum under me, it's a miracle that an ounce or two of semen can cause so much pleasure when leaving my body. Taking a deep breath, a big smile breaks out on my face as I shake my head... hats off to Dickie. Ya know, he gives a damn good fuck considering the equipment he needs to work with, and he knows he gives a good fuck too. He's cocky, no pun intended.

Shakily, I stand up and, starting to go into the bathroom, I bump into Dickie as he's coming out. He says, "Hey, watch where you're going," and I realize I've got a nice little submissive sense going for me, muttering, "Yes, Dickie." Ha! That makes me smile again and step aside to let him by, patting his shoulder, saying, "That was really good." He looks me in the eyes, saying, "Show me your appreciation with a good tip, save the words for someone else."

Oh fuck, yeah, he can pull off the dominant prick stuff. I knew I felt some of it in the van. Today, starting with Derick, everything was just a crazy start and stop escort date. Still, not bad at all.

I clean up quickly, then use a wet washcloth to wipe up my cum splat, saying, "So, I'll arrange a date with you for tomorrow. Is that okay?" He's dressed, standing there waiting for his tip, mumbling, "I don't have much say in the matter. My main man, Richard. arranges all my dates." Quickly getting dressed, I take a hundred-dollar bill from my pocket, hand it to him, and without a thank you, he heads for the door. I stand here and say, "It's only one-thirty, so, um, how about if you freelance a date with me around three o'clock, right here for a quickie. Just between you and me. Um, say, a quick suck and fuck for, ah, like one-fifty. You can sleep here for an hour and a half, and I'll sit on the beach until three o'clock."

That gives him pause, and he stops at the door that's half-opened. Holding onto the doorknob, he goes, "Hmm, you mean like a ten-minute quickie?" Nodding, I walk over to him and hug his shoulders, muttering, "Or quicker, if you want." I'd really like to stay with him and nap and snuggle again. I won't do that, but, jeez, I get attached to my pussy boys.

Still standing at the door, he says, "I got caught holding back on Richard's cut once already, so I'm hesitant to..." I go, "Let's make it two hundred, plus a tip." He goes, "Alright, but two hundred total is enough; that includes a tip. You're special. It'll only be ten minutes, whether you cum or not. Deal?" Nodding, I pick him off his feet and kiss him on the lips for five seconds. Putting him down, I go, "Deal!"

To his credit, he grins, mumbling, "I can tell you sincerely like me, so I won't charge you for that hug and kiss, but don't do it again without paying for it. This is my livelihood, ya know?" I rub his head, saying, "And tomorrow I get a full-fledged well-rested pussy boy with clean clothes, a fresh haircut, and I can hardly wait." He grins, muttering, "I like your enthusiasm for me, but don't get ahead of yourself. I'm not going to be your boyfriend... you need to pay if you want my company."

I go, "Yeah, of course, I know that, plus I've already got a boyfriend. Remember?" He nods, "Yeah, what's his name?" I say, "Bruce, and I'm in love with him, so he's more than just a boyfriend to me." Dickie smirks, "Fuck, if this guy Bruce dumped you, you would immediately fall in love with the very next pussy boy who acted dominant with you."

Why does everyone tell me that? I go, "No, I wouldn't." He says, "Get outta here and let me get some sleep." I say, "Absolutely, and I'll be back in this hotel room at three o'clock on the dot." He makes a shooing motion with his hands, and I leave, saying, "See ya soon..."

Haha, wow, I turned this loser of a day into a winner. Dickie, with a pocket full of money now, probably feels the same way about his day.

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com.

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