by

Quark Master

Copyright 1998, 2000

Joey slowly, almost negligently, ran his index finger up the girl's spine. Softly, barely brushing the bare skin, just enough to make her shiver. A soft moan escaped her lips. He glanced up, over her shoulder into the mirror they both stood facing.

The girl, Julie, stood naked, bare, her soft, pale skin fully exposed to the revealing power of the mirror. The mirror was wide, the back of a sliding closet door. The wide view gave Joey, what he liked to see. The girl, soft and pale, with smooth satin like skin, stood facing it, hands at her side, head slightly tilted, mouth just barely open. Full, firm, yet pert breasts, not large or heavy, breasts with large, silver dollar sized nipples, just starting to contract to small cones. Narrowing rib cage, to a thin tapered waist, flaring hips taught with muscle, yet with just a thin layer of fat to make them soft to the touch, yet firm. A small patch of pubic hair between her legs, highlighting the smooth joining of her two soft, yet firm and shapely legs. Her pose, relaxed, feeling his touch, submitting to his hand.

In the mirror, behind her was Joey, a bit taller smiling over her shoulder at the image. The girl was probably 5'6", Joey, about 5'9". She was eighteen with long brown hair, Joey twenty with dark black, slightly curly hair, halfway to his shoulders. His lightly smiling lips brushed her shoulder slightly, before his arms moved to lightly enfold her arms. His hands moved around her, to cup lightly under her breasts. One hand to each firm mound, cupping, supporting. He cocked his thumbs so that he could brush the edges of her nipples with the tips of his thumbs, tracing a slow circle around them. Lightly, gently, cause a moan of pleasure to escape from the girl's lips as she shifted to lean back against his shoulder. The dark hair covering his chest visible over her shoulder in the mirror as she closed her eyes and rested her head on his right shoulder. As she leaned back, his throbbing penis pushed up the back of the crack of her ass, sliding up the curve between the cheeks of her butt.

Lightly he flicked the tips of her nipples, causing them to contract even more, harden with pleasure. Erect little nipples, sticking up, bumping against his circling thumbs. He rubbed them lightly, over the tops, causing more moans to escape her lips. He loved this part, causing pleasure, making the girl moan in waves of intense physical sensation. He loved staring at himself in the mirror while he held the girl, any girl. His strong arms, and hairy, masculine chest accentuating his maleness, making him feel filled with power. Dominating her with his inherent maleness. His was the strength, the power, she submissive to his will, he controlling her emotions, her pleasure. Taking control of her body, of the sensations she felt. It gave him a rush like no other.

He moved his thumbs to the side of her nipples, and slowly eased the pressure of his hands on her breasts until the tips of his finger only lightly brushed against her creamy, hairless skin. The dark hairs on the back of his hands providing a stark contrast to the girl's smooth skin, gave him a tingle of pleasure near the base of his spine as he watch his hands begin to trace the curve of her body in the mirror. His hands moved slowly downward, angling them to point his fingers down in the direction of motion. Lightly, just barely brushing the skin he slowly, carressingly, slid his hands down her sides, sweeping inward towards her crotch. The girl shivered again as his touch brought tingling sensations to her body. Joey smiled some more as he used his chin to gently brush her long brown hair to the side of his face.

His hands moved, almost of their own volition, downward tracing the top contours of her thighs. He lifted all but the middle finger, the 'bird' finger, his 'fucking' finger, of each hand, so that only the 'fuck' fingers traced her skin. Down the sides of her crotch towards the folded flesh between her legs. Her mound already slightly swollen with blood in anticipation. As he traced down the top of her legs, between thigh and groin, he began slowly increasing pressure on his fingers, letting the brush become a touch, and then gentle almost massage-like pressure. He stopped his right hand, with the finger just resting on the small mound of flesh between her legs. He lowered the rest of his right hand to press her right thigh against his own. His left finger moved on, into the softly folded flesh, gently stroking, lightly massaging her clit, causing her to gasp at the sensation.

"Mmm, like that baby?" Joey whispered in her ear as he rubbed his dick up and down the back of her ass, and massaging her from the front with his finger.

"Oh, god, yeah" she moaned. She began rubbing up and down against him on her own. Using his left arm to keep her thigh pinned against him while he stroked her, he repositioned his right arm. He moved it back and then under her right arm, hugging her with his forearm across her ribcage, bringing his right hand up to cup her left breast, and once again began stroking her now erect nipple with his thumb. With his tongue, he traced the curve of her neck, lightly brushing her long hair aside to tease her ear with his tongue.

Joey could feel the moisture building in her hot hole, he slid his finger farther back, slipping it and his forefinger inside her, while maintaining a constant massaging pressure on her clit. Slowly, he began moving his fingers in and out, finger fucking her.

"Do I got your hole moving? Does my girl like that?" Joey whispered. He sucked lightly on her earlobe with his lips. "Does she like what her man can do for her?"

"Unghh, uhh, ohhh, huhh." Julie couldn't speak, only moan in pleasure. Joey, shifted his weight slightly, bringing his hips back and bending his knees to move his dick in to slide downward this time, down her crack, between her legs this time. Julie shifted slightly to spread her legs some more. Joey almost smiled thinking of the first time he'd tried something like this, he and the girl, Susan was it? had both fallen over on the carpet. It wasn't as easy to try to hit all the right spots on a girl the first time. It had taken quite a bit of practice. But then, as Joey like to say, practice makes perfect. Joey prided himself on knowing how to get a girl going. How to hit her spots, make her beg for it.

"That's it, that's my little girl." Joey crooned softly in her ear as he tried sliding a third finger in. "Oh yeah, my baby likes the way a real man can make her feel." Julie was too lost in pleasure to do more than heave breath after breath. "Likes a man that can make her feel complete, like a woman." Joey glanced back in the mirror at the two of them. He behind her, holding her, supporting her, massaging and bringing her to the edge. In complete control, of both their bodies, her body was his to do as he pleased.

"Does my baby girl need more?" Julie just moaned as he increased the pressure on her nipple, gently twisting it between thumb and forefinger. This was like it should be, Joey, the man, in control, dominating the woman. As nature intended, the strong controlling the weak. Joey, the dominant male preparing to mount the submissive female. In control of her every sensation, making her weak and defenseless, ready for penetration. Ready to implant his seed in the fertile ground he was working to ecstasy.

"So, does my girl want her pussy filled? Need a man to give her what she needs?" Joey asked, huskily.

"Oh god, yes, please," Julie breathed.

"Please what? darling." Joey teased, he needed her to say it.

"Please Joey, fuck me! Fuck Me! Be my man, fuck my pussy! Please!" Julie cried.

"Anything my baby wants," Joey told her as his head moved over her shoulder, his lips seeking hers.

Julie snuggled with her eyes closed in Joey's right arm while she rested her head on his shoulder, the two of them lying in bed. Drowsily, she ran her fingers through the soft, fairly long hairs on his chest. He permitted her to do this after sex, she seemed to like it. Joey wasn't sure if he liked it. It gave him a weird sensation, having his chest hairs rubbed, and he wasn't sure it was all that manly a sensation, so he didn't allow it during foreplay. Afterwards, he was generally relaxed and tired enough that he let the women who wanted to play with his chest hairs do so.

Not that he was sensitive about his chest hairs, to the contrary. He mused staring down at his torso as they lay together in the darkened room. The light of the full moon streamed in the open window, splashing across the bed, highlighting their naked bodies in puddles of light and dark. He was damn proud of those hairs, it was part of his Italian ancestry, gave him a feeling of masculinity, of being grown up. He remembered as a teen, wearing tank tops to show off his burgeoning chest hairs. It gave him a sense of superiority over the other boys in class, all going through puberty together. Like he was more of a man than they, because he had more hair. Not that he was that hairy, it was just that the fine pattern of hair across his chest and stomach was composed of exceptionally dark hairs to match those on his head and legs, and were surprisingly long. They came up to his collarbone and then stopped, not running over his back or anything like that.

His pubic hair was a wiry mess, looking down between his legs at his now relaxed cock. It was what they called a 'meat cock' one of those that didn't shrivel up to nothing when it wasn't erect. As a consequence people always thought he had a big dick. Unfortunately, it didn't get as much bigger erect as the 'blood cocks' did, so it wasn't really huge, like some of the boys in the shower room had thought. But it was about 7" when erect, and that was above average, so that was good. He was bigger then most of his friends. Not that he noticed such things, only fags did that, but growing up, a guy is always comparing himself to the competition, Joey thought to himself. Gotta know what you're up against. Only fags let it be an obsession.

Lots of hair on his legs too, long and dark like his chest hair. Quite a bit between his crack too. Not that anybody was ever gonna notice something like that, but Joey paid attention to it anyway, 'you gotta know your merchandise' his father used to say back in his small town grocery store. Not that Joey would sell himself or anything, he thought quickly to himself, but for the girls, you gotta know what your letting them get when you fuck em.

With his left hand he idly scratched left pec. Decent build, he thought to himself, not muscle-bound, but strong firm biceps and forearm, strong thighs and calves and a pretty muscular chest. He worked out, had to keep in shape for the girls. He'd done some sports in high school, he wasn't real fond of football, but had played because it was the thing to do. He tried wrestling for a while, but it made him nervous. Guys squirming around on a mat like that was a bit much. You didn't want people thinking you were queer or something. But anyway, it didn't take much to keep his muscles, he had one of those metabolisms and builds that just naturally put on a lot of muscle without trying So it didn't take much to keep his bod looking good for the ladies. He liked his body the way it was, didn't want to do too much weight lifting, if he did, he'd bulk up and look too much like some sort of male sex object. That wouldn't be good. Sure it was important to look good for your women, but you didn't want to get too obsessed with your body.

Overall, his only complaint was his nipples. Actually, he didn't like thinking of them as his nipples, but he couldn't think of another word for them, girls had tits, men had nipples. But even that sounded weird. Whatever, they were too big. A consequence of being naturally muscular he guessed. Lifter's who used steroids got big swollen nipples, 'bitch tits' as they were called. Joey didn't do steroids and didn't lift much, but he guessed he must have a lot of testosterone and male hormones, which is what gave him the decent build and hair without working too hard. Whatever the case, his nipples had been a source of some embarrassment for him. They were big, bigger than a quarter, maybe close to a half dollar, and way too often they were kind of puffy and were way too noticeable when he wore a tight shirt. Which is why he didn't wear a lot of tight shirts.

Shit, enough of this, Joey thought. He didn't know why he always had to go on like this when he started thinking about his body. He was grown up now, a man, and unlike gawky adolescents in the throws of puberty, real men didn't have to worry about how their body looked. Real men, looked like real men and that was it. And that was definitely what he was and how he looked, as his inspection had once again shown him. Still it bugged him that he felt the need to justify his manliness.

Certainly Julie didn't. Nor did any of the other women he'd been with during late high school and his time at college. They knew a real man when they saw one, and they all agreed Joey was a real man. He still had them begging him, he could give them what they wanted better than any of the other guys on campus. Jesus, it wasn't a stereotype, women were slaves to their emotions. If they found a guy who could turn them on like Joey could, they became slaves to their cunts and tits. That was the problem with women, they were too easily enslaved by the sensations their bodies could produce. Guys on the other hand only had one erotic zone, their dick, and that was easily enough controlled. Just feed it a little pussy now and then and it was happy. Guys could control their cravings. True, some guys seemed to go a little crazy and sleep with anything that moved, but they could stop if they wanted to. You really couldn't make them do stuff they knew was bad for them by offering them the right turn ons and physical manipulations like you could women.

Women also got their emotions all tied up with their body. Too often they confused sex and love. Joey couldn't understand why. Sex was an act, every guy knew that, it didn't mean much. But for a woman, it seemed like good sex meant good love. Fuck them good, and pretty soon they're convinced they're in love with you and want to be with you for ever. Julie was a perfect example, she was a great fuck, and a decent person to take out on a date, but Joey just couldn't see himself with her forever. This bit about women giving themselves up, unconditionally, was something he just didn't get. Joey shook his head, if guys could understand women like they could each other, then things sure would be a lot easier.

One

What a shitty day, Joey thought as he ordered a beer. Technically he wasn't old enough yet to get beer, but what guy who'd been to college didn't have a fake id. Been to college, that was the operative phrase. What a sucky six month it had been.

Shortly after he'd dumped Julie his life had gone to hell. He'd gotten a couple bad grades and had to change majors again, and his parents had got pissed and decided he should work for a while. Get his life together, they were pissed about the fact that he been in college three years but as far a majors went was only a sophomore. True, he had changed majors about five times and had a couple D's. No F's or anything. He just couldn't decide what he wanted to do, and those classes had just been to much of a hassle. More hard work than he really wanted to screw with.

So he'd told them fine, if they were going to be that way, he'd work. But he wasn't going back to podunksville to work in the store. He'd get a job in the city and make it on his own. That was the guy thing to do. A friend of his, who'd graduated the year before and was living in the city had said he could get Joey on as an intern where he worked and so Joey'd packed up his shit and moved to the city. Not that he had much to move but clothes and a couple trophies. He'd moved in with Lyle, gotten the position and worked at it for about a month. It was pretty decent, but then the company 'resized' and Lyle was told to relocate or quit and Joey was just laid off.

Lyle relocated, transferring the lease on the small furnished apartment to Joey, and Joey had started looking for a new job. That was nearly four months ago. He hadn't found anything yet. Anything decent required a college degree, even if the degree meant shit. He wasn't going to be a janitor or McDonaloid scraping burgers. He was going for a corporate internship or something similar. Unfortunately he was short on money. He'd only saved enough money to cover one month's food and rent and that had been it. At the moment he was making do with a short term loan from a guy he'd found in the classifieds. The nerve wracking part was that that was almost gone, and the loan about up with no way to repay it. He was a month behind on the rent, having decided to eat instead, and the next month coming up in a couple days. Who would have thought getting a job would be so tough? Of course, having been let go after only a month on his last job didn't help, even if it wasn't his fault.

He shouldn't have been spending money on a beer, but today had been even more frustrating than normal. He'd come halfway across town for two different job interviews, in the same area. He sat through an average 4 hours of waiting and interviews at both places, only to be told in both places he needed the degree. So here he was, at wit's end, exhausted in a strange neighborhood with it being evening already and horny as hell.

Horny definitely was an operative word. He hadn't had a girl to fuck since he broke up with Julie. All the hassles at the semester's end, only two days after breaking up, had meant he'd been too busy to go hunting. Then when he'd moved here, he'd spent about 60 hours a week on the job and the few women he had time to meet had been stuck up bitches who didn't want to put out without a lot of effort he didn't have time to devote. Then losing his job, with almost no money in the bank, he couldn't afford even one date with any woman, assuming he'd even get lucky. He'd been hoping to get a job quickly and get back on the scene, but no luck.

So, anyway, here he was in some bar in a strange neighborhood he'd never set foot in before this morning. He took the beer from the bar tender and wandered over to an overstuffed couch. As he sat down he looked around the place. He'd chosen this bar because it looked like the best one around. A couple bars he'd passed had been clubs, video or dance bars, and he didn't feel like that, he wanted quiet, plus it was too early. Some of the other's were really odd, seedy looking dives, sort of place Hell's Angels might hang out. What was odd was that they were sitting in what looked like a fairly affluent neighborhood, at least as he'd come to judge such things since moving to the city. Who knows, Joey thought as he sipped his beer.

This place had seemed something like one of those lounge type places from the seventies, crossed with a small town tavern. Rather dark, but comfortable. In any event he'd been surprised to find it had a huge bar with a rather impressive array of expensive liquors and damn good micro brew selection. The clientele were pretty mixed, mainly men dressed anywhere from yuppie to business casual, very few women though. Obviously a "man's bar," maybe a hold over from the men only business clubs of the first half of the century. Just as well, Joey figured, he could barely afford his own drink, not to mention a woman's.

Nearing the end of his beer, Joey sat his beer down on a end table by the couch, to rub his head in his hands, clear his wits and figure out what to do next. As he raised his head to reach for his beer, he was surprised to find a man sitting in a big overstuffed chair that was sitting at a right angle to the couch he was on, forming sort of a conversation area. He hadn't heard the man sit down.

Man was certainly the word for this guy. Joey was almost slightly intimidated by the guy. He was dressed very well, in slacks and an expensive button down shirt, about thirty years old and built like a tank. He was clean shaven with a marine style haircut, and while it was hard to judge sitting down, Joey guessed the guy was about 6'2" or taller. The guy had sort of a rugged look to him, and very well built, but without the over-pumped clumsiness that body builder's often seem to have. More like someone used to a lot of hard work, except that he was dressed too well to be a construction worker or something similar.

Joey nodded to the man, who returned the nod with slightly less emphasis. It was odd, but as Joey reached for his beer, he found he couldn't seem to let go of the man's eyes. The guy was staring him straight in the eyes, almost daring him to look away. That was weird and rude, but Joey didn't feel like backing down. He picked up his beer without removing his eyes from the other man's. He took a sip, at a loss for what to do. He was starting to feel very uncomfortable, what was up with this guy. Finally, in frustration, he glanced down at his beer and then back up at the man, who seemed to have nodded in some sort of recognition.

"Hi, I, uhm, am Joey, I mean Joe." Joey said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and for some reason in need of using the non diminutive form of his name. He normally always went by Joey, but for some reason he felt he needed to prove something. His manliness or something.

"Hello Joey," the man replied. "I'm Richard," the man made no movement to shake Joey's hand, so Joey, who'd started to extend his hand, quickly brought it back in confusion. "So, Joey," the man said comfortably, as if trying to make Joey feel a little more at ease. "I don't believe I've seen you around here before? New to the area?" He had a real deep voice, almost mesmerizing, certainly commanding, like a marine sergeant only not so rough. Maybe like a Shakespearean actor.

"Uhm, no. I mean I'm not really from the area, I live quite a ways from here, and was just in the area for a job interview and thought I'd stop in for a drink. I've never been to this part of town before."

"Really," the man said, as if he knew something Joey didn't. Richard noticed Joey's empty bottle. "Can I get you another?" he said pointing to Joey's beer. Joey was slightly startled by the offer. It almost sounded like something he might have said to a girl in a bar.

Joey had a sudden tightening of the gut, wondering if this was some fag trying to pick him up. Joey blinked, realizing how silly that was. This guy was obviously not a fag. He was too self possessed, to much a real man to be a fag. Fags were skinny whiny types who wore tight clothes kind of like a woman. "Um, OK, sure, thanks."

Richard made a motion to the bartender, who almost seemed to be expecting the motion as he hurried over with another beer and a glass. The waiter set the beer and glass down, took the empty bottle and returned to the bar without even asking for money. Joey was so startled by the bartender's performance, specifically not asking for money, that he didn't even notice when Richard began pouring the beer into a glass for him.

As Richard put the empty bottle down, and leaned back in his chair to sip on his own drink, some sort of mixed thing on the rocks, Joey squirmed slightly. He was a bit discomfited by the man's action. Not knowing what else to do, he took a drink. "Thanks."

"My pleasure. Any luck with your interview? What are you looking for?" Joey began to answer him in vague terms. Somehow, the man made Joey feel unusually comfortable, relaxed as it were. Within a few minutes, he'd forgotten his discomfort over the second beer. The man asked him all sorts of question about himself, and seemed genuinely interested. That was the odd part. The guy seemed to know exactly what questions to ask to get Joey to open up. Before long, Joey found himself practically telling the guy his life story.

Joey became so wrapped up in the conversation, and telling his story that he didn't even notice the repeat performances of bartender bringing him beers at Richard's wave, after nods from Joey. He even sort of got used to Richard pouring the beer for him.

Eventually, after Joey'd had about six or seven beers and no food, while only vaguely noting that Richard was only on his second or third mixed drink, Joey found himself talking about his experiences with women. Not so much from the historical perspective, which he'd pretty much spilled earlier, but more from the philosophical point. Practice and technique, as Joey like to think of it.

"You see, women like a man who's in charge. Who's not afraid to take control. It's a whole question of power. Dominance and submission. It's part of nature, a pecking order if you will. Men dominate and women submit. They like to submit to a strong man." Joey explained.

"Really, but what about the ERA stuff, their demands for equality? Are you saying women like to be subservient to men." Richard asked.

"Well, I'm not really talking about the work place or so. I think, on the job, professionally, they probably like to be treated as fairly as anyone else. It's just in the relationship, and the bedroom."

"Why then do they all say that they want sensitive men? Men who'll treat them as equals, not sex objects." Richard sipped on his drink after asking this.

"I think, intellectually, they do want that. But my experience is that the nice sensitive guys never get the women. It's the take charge guys. Women want someone to tell them what to do in a relationship and guys don't. Guys like to be in control."

"All the time?" Richard asked, "wouldn't that be a strain on the relationship, if one person was always 'On Top' and the other 'On the Bottom' in terms of a chain of command."

"Not at all, like I said, women are naturally passive, men active. Women like to have someone to guide them, to make the difficult decisions for them." Joey argued.

"What about men? Do they always like to be in control? Are they always active? Not passive?"

"Yes, men always have to be in control. It's their nature. Men aren't passive."

Richard leaned forward, once again staring into Joey's eyes. As if peering into the depths of his soul, searching for truth. "But don't you, Joey, get tired of always being in control? Are you telling me, you never have moments when you'd like to relinquish control, absolve yourself of responsibility, let someone else deal with the hassles of life?"

Joey felt himself almost lost in the man's eyes, for some reason, it must be the alcohol he thought. The man's question seemed to ring in his ears. He started to answer with his automatic response, but something about the man's eyes compelled a sort of honesty. "I...I don't know." He admitted. "Men don't do that. I mean sure, it might be nice once in a while not to be the one who has to bear the brunt. But it's just not done." Joey was silent for a moment, Richard just continued to stare into his eyes. "For one thing it would be too frightening to give up control."

Joey felt himself getting lost, confused. He broke I contact and shook his head. "Anyway," he went on. "The point is, its the way of nature. There has to be a pecking order. Men dominate, and women submit. That's how it's happened in nature forever. Like wolves."

"Like wolves," Richard looked thoughtful. "OK, Joey, I see your argument with women, perhaps. But you bring up wolves and wolfpacks. What about when there are two males in the pack? What then?"

Joey was slightly confused. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Well," Richard answered, "in a wolf pack, only one male can be dominant, all the other wolves must submit."

"I guess..." Joey was feeling on uncertain ground here not sure where things were going.

"So if that's the case, and the analogy holds, wouldn't less dominant males have to submit to more dominant males in human society as well?"

Joey couldn't dispute the logic. "I guess, yes that makes sense." Suddenly things started to click in his own life. "Maybe that's it. Maybe all my life a lot of what I've been doing is trying to establish my own place in the pecking order." Joey said more to himself than Richard. Maybe part of his obsessive need to compare himself to other guys was part of his way of showing dominance. He was verifying for himself he was the dominant male. That explained his desire to be the best at screwing women. He'd always wanted to be the one the women came to, maybe that was just expressing his dominance, not only over women but men as well.

Richard simply looked on, stirring his drink with a straw, as the intoxicated young man, tried to come to some realizations. Finally, Joey returned from his thoughts. "Yeah, what you say makes a lot of sense, I'll agree with you on that.:

"Good, so here's my next question for you." Richard smiled. "How do you tell the dominant male in any given situation?"

"Easy, that's the more manly one, the one who takes control and doesn't let others take control."

"OK, but according to you, every man would be trying to do that. All men try to take control. So what do you do if everyone wants to be in charge? Fight it out?"

"Hmm, I don't know for sure, but..." Joey had just noticed a young man across the bar wearing a really tight T-shirt and even tighter jeans. He decided to change the topic to safer ground. "Not all men want to take charge. I was just talking about real men. That guy over there is an example." Joey pointed to the young man. "I mean, that's the thing about fags. They don't want to take control. None of them, so they're the submissive males in our society."

Richard glanced at where Joey pointed his head. "Perhaps, some of them. But not all 'fags' are submissive." Joey looked confused. "And between men how do you determine what is submissive. Previously you used the term submissive and passive as the same thing, but is that always true?"

Joey shook his head, not understanding. "What do you mean of course they're the same."

Richard smiled. "OK, let's talk about fags then. I said not all are submissive, and in fact the whole question of who is dominating who when two men have sex can get complicated on that point."

Joey was starting to squirm slightly, talk of sex reminded him how horny he was, and this talk of homosexual sex was making him slightly uncomfortable. "How?"

"Well, what about a blowjob? A guy who gives another guy a blow job, is obviously being submissive right? He's sucking the other guy's cock? From what you've told me, I'd guess that you'd agree that if a guy is sucking your cock, you're dominant over him, forcing him to this lower position, correct?"

Talk of getting a blowjob was only adding to Joey's horniness, he suddenly realized he had a hard on. Shit, here he was talking to a guy in a bar about fags sucking cock and he had a hard on. What was wrong with him? Lack of women and alcohol. Normally he'd just get up and walk out at this sort of faggy talk. But when Richard talked about it, it didn't sound faggy. Anything but, and the mesmerizing tone of his deep voice made Joey very uncomfortable. "Yes, that's right." He could at least agree that sucking cock was a subservient position, that was obvious.

"OK, but by your own arguments earlier, when men and women are together, it's the man who takes control. The dominant partner controls the feelings and pleasure of the submissive. The active or dominant person who gives the pleasure to the submissive partner."

Joey was getting turned around, the alcohol was really making it hard to logically follow and argue with Richard. "Yes, that's what I've said."

"OK then, in the case of the guy sucking cock, who is supposedly the submissive partner,. it's him that is regulating the pleasure of the guy getting the blowjob. The cocksucker is controlling the pleasure centers of the person he's blowing, and in fact is taking the active role."

That penetrated slightly. It was confusing, it didn't make sense, but in his current state, Joey couldn't find the flaw in the argument. "You mean the cocksucker is the dominant partner? but he's the one on his knees, doing what the guy getting it wants."

"According to your earlier arguments, the guy sucking cock is the dominant one. However, all I am saying is that the issue isn't clear. Questions of dominance and submission are not black and white. There is a wide gray line between the dominator and the submitter."

That seemed safe, Joey could agree with that. "Yeah, yeah, you're right." He didn't know what to think, he did know that it was getting late, and he was feeling really odd, alcohol or not. He went to loosen his tie and shirt, feeling just too hot. Only to realize that he'd already loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt to below his diaphragm some time ago. He looked at his watch. 3:07! Shit where had the time gone. He stood suddenly, feeling he needed to leave.

Unfortunately, he misjudged how much he had drunk and started to loose his balance. Before he could flail to capture himself, Richard was on his feet, with a sturdy hand on Joey's shoulder. Thumb crossing the opening of his shirt resting gently but firmly on Joey's exposed chest. Suddenly Joey was sensitive to how far his shirt was unbuttoned and how much chest hair he was showing. Confusion overwhelmed him for a second. Why should that bother him. It never had before. All he knew is that he was acutely aware of Richard's large hand on his shoulder, his thumb on his collarbone. Richard standing beside him, supporting, yet seeming even larger and taller than Joey had guessed, or perhaps forgotten.

The room swayed around Joey from the alcohol, yet Richard seemed a fixed point in the spinning room. A rock or anchor of strength and support. Joey felt odd all of the sudden, slightly weak, his stomach slightly off. But then slowly it passed, he started to sort out the intense feelings and realized they were just effects of the beer.

"Shorry. Sorry" Joey corrected, suddenly aware of his voice being slightly slurred.

"Nothing to be sorry for, you just stood up too fast." Richard smiled, Joey stared at the smile for a moment. His mouth felt dry.

"I...I've got to be going. Gotta get home. It's late." Joey said, trying to move away. Richard's sturdy hand stayed firm on his shoulder.

"How did you get here? Did you drive? You're in no condition to drive." Joey shook his head.

"No, bus. I took the bus." Joey said slightly confused for a second as he tried to remember for sure how he had gotten to this place. This time.

Richard shook his head. "That's right, you mentioned that earlier." He had? "I'm sorry, I've kept you too late. That line stopped at midnight. While you can still get home by bus or train, you'll have to make several changes, I'm not sure that's a good idea for you at the moment."

"But what will I do?" Joey, suddenly felt concerned about getting home, the alcohol, he was sure. "I gotta go home, I don't think I've got enough cash for a taxi." He tried to rummage through his pants for his money.

"I know. I've got a spare bedroom at my place. Since it was my fault, you can stay the night at my place." Richard volunteered.

"I don't know, that's too nice, I hardly know you. You don't know me, I'm a complete stranger."

"Well, not complete, you've pretty much told me your life story." Richard winked at him, Joey suddenly felt both like laughing at the conspiratorial wink and embarrassed. He had told the man everything about himself. "And while it's true you don't know me, most of these people" he waved to the crowd still in the bar, "do, and can vouch for me. I'm not a psycho."

Joey didn't know, he hated to impose on the guy, but he knew he couldn't get home on his own. He needed some place to sleep. Shit, it wasn't like he'd never gone to someone else's place from a bar. But that had always been a woman and for sex, this was neither. Thinking of which, he was feeling very horny, he looked around the bar but could find no women to pick up, even if he could by them a drink.

He reached up and rested his hand on Richard's arm, which was still supporting him. It felt like granite. "Well, if you're sure it won't be an imposition."

"Not at all."

Joey stared up at the light on the ceiling. He could barely remember the trip to Richard's house. House, he thought it was a house. Big graystone/brownstone like thing, might be a condo, he couldn't tell. Richard had shown him to the guest room, and said something about needing to take a shower, and wandered off. Joey had collapsed on the bed, only managing to get his suit coat off, resting for a moment. Preparing to take his clothes off.

The conversation with Richard at the bar kept going through his head. Some of it almost turned his head upside down. He felt a little less drunk now, after laying for a moment, but he didn't feel sober enough to really sort out the hidden meanings.

"Just lying there?" Richard's voice said from the doorway. "I was going to my room and noticed your light still on. Like, I thought, you were going to need some help getting into bed."

Joey started to protest that he didn't, he raised his head towards the doorway to respond, but, when he caught site of Richard, he forgot what he was going to say. Apparently Richard had gone to take a shower, as he'd said. He was standing in the doorway, still slightly damp and wearing only a towel that looked way too small on his large body. Having played a number of sports, Joey had seen his fair share of naked and semi-naked men in the locker room, but whether it was the alcohol, his frustrated sexual state or whatever, Richard seemed to make them all look like little boys.

The man almost radiated a palpable aura or rugged masculinity, that Joey, ever conscious of such things in himself found almost overwhelming. Joey was positive any woman he'd ever laid, would dump Joey in an instant upon seeing Richard as he stood now. Richard was at least six-four, and almost a sculptured work of musculature. Richard's biceps were nearly as large as Joey's thighs. Richard's thighs, when Joey could look below the towel, were pillars of banded iron. His calves were highly defined and flared from the thin base of his ankles. While nearly 10 years his senior, Richard's stomach wasn't exactly flat however, it bulged slightly, not from a beer or weight, but from finely detailed musculature that seemed carved from stone. Joey could hardly look at Richard's chest. Huge pectoral muscles, as good or better than any body builder capped his chest. He appeared to have large nipples as well, but those Joey had trouble seeing due to the thick mat of hair covering his chest, running down his abdomen, nearly obscuring his navel, disappearing into the clean white towel, only to reappear on his thighs below the towel.

Joey had seen many body builders, but unlike body builders, part of what struck Joey about Richard, was that while body builders go for an hour glass shape, much like women, Richard was more cylindrical. Rather than a thin narrow waist, Richard's midline was thickly muscled. While his hips were covered by the towel, Joey could tell that while not large like a woman's they were not thin and narrow like a boy's. They were more in matching with the overall girth of Richard's thighs and abdomen, probably thickly muscled. Richard's left arm was resting on the knot of his towel on his left hip. Joey traced the large, sturdy hands upward over the almost wiry forearm hairs to the thick shoulder and heavily muscled neck, finally meeting Richard's ever-present eyes.

An almost sinking feeling went through Joey's stomach making him feel almost weak and inadequate, when looking at Richard. All this time, he'd prided himself on his strong masculinity, and here was Richard who so casually, without even realizing it, made Joey feel like a 10 year old boy. No shaved body builder of however big of muscles, nor hairy brute of a Neanderthal from the gym had ever made Joey feel this way. He was taken completely at a loss.

Richard frowned slightly in concern, after Joey had been silent too long, "Are you all right?"

Joey realized he'd been staring at Richard's body, like a woman in heat. His felt his face turn scarlet in shame and embarrassment. What was he thinking? What had come over him? This was a fucking guy. Joey was a guy. Jesus. What would people think, if they knew he was acting like this.

Before he could come up with a response, Richard was striding over towards the bed. "Here, you've had a long hard day. Let me help you get ready for bed." Joey simply stared as Richard's hand brushed against his shirt, down to the remaining buttoned buttons.

"No, no, I can manage, you don't need to help." Joey protested, weakly.

Richard smiled and laughed slightly. "I left you in here twenty minutes ago and you haven't moved. I think we better get you in bed." After pulling the tails of the shirt from Joey's pants, Richard finished unbuttoning the shirt as Joey squirmed slightly, almost as if he were unable to move. As Richard parted the shirt to pull Joey's left arm's out, Richard's knuckles grazed against Joey's left nipple. Something like electricity seemed to shoot in a spiraling pattern from Joey's nipple, running over his chest and up into his brain. Unconsciously, Joey gasped. As he realized he'd gasped, Joey started to turn red again, before realizing Richard had apparently noticed nothing. Richard was simply pulling his arm out of the sleeve, murmuring soft comments about boys who drink too much.

When Joey's left arm was free, Richard kneeling on the bed behind Joey reached his arm over Joey's shoulder to pull the right arm out. Joey stared in fascination at Richard's arm, hoping and fearing that the motion was too much like an embrace by the big strong arm. This time as Richard's hand pulled the shirt back, it was Richard finger nail that scraped along Joey's right nipple. Joey shuddered as a similar yet different feeling of electricity radiated out from this nipple.

Joey breathed heavily, not knowing what was wrong with him. How much had he drank? Why was he feeling this way? As he tried to sort this out, Richard was suddenly standing in front of him, Joey's eyes dead on level with Richard's crotch. He found his eyes unconsciously searching for lines of definition in the bulge in the towel only a foot from his face.

"Lay back," Richard seemed to command, placing his thickly veined hand dead center on Joey's chest and pushing him backwards. Joey's eyes followed the hand inward as it came to rest, slightly stirring a few of his chest hairs as the hand began to push on his ribcage.

"What?" Joey asked weakly in concern.

"We've got to get your shoes off boy. You don't think I want dirty shoes on my guest bed do you?"

Joey blushed slightly again, embarrassed and frightened by the thoughts that had run through his head. He laid down, resting his head on the mattress. He almost didn't breath until the big man's hand pulled away from his chest. The other hand reaching down to pull up his leg.

A quick tug on a lace, a yank and shoe one was off. To Joey's mind, the man seemed to almost slowly, methodically lower his left leg, and the raise is right. Tug, yank and his other shoe was gone. Rather than lower Joey's right foot, Richard seemed to knead Joey's toes under his socks, searching perhaps, Joey told himself for a grip on the sock. Richard's right arm came up and pushed Joey's pant leg up, Engulfing Joey's lower leg below the calf, but above the sock in his big hand. With a few short tugs, Richard had the boy's sock off, but still he held the leg. Richard's grip was firm, but fairly loose. Every now and then sliding slightly on his leg, causing the hair on Joey's leg to bend one way or the other, sending strange signals up Joey's leg and spinal column.

"Pounding the pavement for a job, I bet your feet get tired." Richard began massaging Joey's foot. Joey could say nothing, only lie and stare at the hand holding his foot and the thumb and fingers of the other hand working their way between the bones and sinews of his foot, in what seemed an almost painful, yet soothing manner.

Too soon, but after way more time than was proper, Richard lowered Joey's leg and lifted the other. Once again he grasped Joey's leg, and yanked the sock off. This time as Richard kneaded his foot, Joey could only stare into Richard's eyes. He felt like a deer trapped in the headlights of a car. Lost, floating, the room still spinning gently around him from the beer.

Slowly, yet suddenly Joey realized that Richard was no longer massaging his foot, but instead the eyes were coming closer. Joey held his breath. "Pants," Richard stated, as he began unbuckling Joey's belt. Joey shook his head, knowing something was wrong, but not able to pinpoint what. There was a reason he didn't want Richard to pull his pants off, he just couldn't remember what. The belt came open, Richard's hand slipped behind the waist of his pants, rubbing against the long hairs tracing the route from Joey's groin to stomach. Joey closed his eyes for a moment as a sensation he couldn't describe washed over him. Joey felt and heard rather than saw Richard unzip his pants and unfasten the button and hook of his pants.

He sensed Richard's presence move back slightly, but he couldn't open his eyes. He lay there thinking of how drunk he was that he couldn't even help Richard get his pants off. Sensing the tug on pant leg, Joey tried to leverage his butt off the bed so the pants could be pulled off. The pants slid off, the flopping belt, still in the loops bounced softly on his swollen prick, tenting up his underwear.

Joey's eyes opened in alarm! He struggled to rise even as Richard was pulling his pants off. Now he knew why he couldn't let Richard take his pants off. He had a fucking boner. His dick was swollen, it ached almost. It felt tighter, more bloated than it had in years. Joey, in his befuddled alcohol muddled state, panicked. Shit if Richard saw that, he'd get the wrong idea, he'd think Joey was a faggot. He'd think he was some perverted queerboy trying to come on to him. "No, no that's all right, I can get my pants myself." Joey was half sitting up, trying to reach for his now nearly off pants, and cover his bloated member with his arms at the same time.

Richard yanked his pants off, tossing them on the floor. "Hush, hush. It's all right." Richard put his hand on Joey's shoulder, trying to push him back on the bed. Joey struggled to keep the tented underwear hidden beneath his elbows. "I know you've got a hard-on." Joey went white then quickly red faced again as Richard soothing penetrated his panic.

"Look, I understand, you told me all about it." Joey looked up into Richard's eyes, seeking some reassurance. Eyes wide with receding panic, like a frightened doe. "You've had a rough six months and are real horny. You haven't been laid in a long time. It's only natural for you to be aroused, at just about anything. Now just lay back and relax a little. We'll get you to bed where you can rest soon enough."

Somehow, whether it was the words or something in the big man's eyes, Joey's panic receded, nearly as quickly as it came. He slowly leaned back, still embarrassed, despite the reassurance about the tent in his briefs.

"Besides, it's not like I've never seen a boy with hard prick before." Joey's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "We've all been to gym class, and seen someone get embarrassed." Joey nodded. Richard smiled and looked down at Joey's tent. He frowned slightly and shook his head.

"What?" Joey asked, suddenly nervous again.

"You've messed yourself, a little, there's a big wet stain over the front of your underwear."

Joey reached for the front of his underwear, surely he hadn't come. The underwear at the tip of his penis was wet, had he pissed himself? In his drunken state he was finding it hard to think too straight.

"Here, you'll be sore in the morning after it dries with that boner, rubbing on it all night. Let's change them." Joey shook his head, no. But could do little more in protest as Richard's hairy chest suddenly leaned over his legs and the man's hands went to Joey's waistband. In slipped the fingers, tugging at his briefs. Joey tried to brush the hands away, but couldn't get enough strength to do so. Tug right, tug left went the hands on his briefs. The man's knuckles and fingers rubbing up against the smooth flesh of Joey's thighs. The waistband snagged on the tip of his dick, then was up and over. It slid smoothly down his thighs and calves. Somehow it almost felt obscenely sensual, more so than when he took them off himself.

The briefs were off. Joey lay there, not knowing what to think, almost numb. He lay on the bed, arms slightly spread from his side. Legs slightly apart, laying almost limply where they'd flopped when the underwear had snapped past his feet. In the center of it all, Joey was aware of his prick. Throbbing in time with his heart beat. He looked down his body, over the forest of hair on his chest, past those damn nipples of his, pointing upward like a fuckin woman's, down to his groin. He looked at his cock almost as if it was a different dick than the one he'd known all his life. It was hard, painfully hard. The tip glared a sullen red, almost throbbing, the piss slit dripping precum down onto his wiry bush of pubic hair. He began to wonder if it would explode. Shit how long had it been? He never remembered it getting this hard before. It felt like it was about to burst.

Suddenly he remembered Richard, how could he have forgotten? Shit what had gotten into him. He looked up, realizing that Richard had been following Joey's eyes with his own. What would the man think. His head rotated slightly as he watched Richard come around the side of the bed. Eyes locked. "Yes, my little Joey, it's been a long time for you. You've got a big piece of meat down there that needs some satisfaction. Unfortunately, you don't have a girl around to relieve your tension." Joey simply nodded his head.

"I do..." Richard reached down with his arm and began slowly petting Joey's chest, lightly stroking the fur, like Joey was a pet dog. Joey had to close his eyes for a second at the sensation. When he opened them, Richard continued, "...know some ways to relieve the pressure."

His thumb slid across one of Joey's nipples, making him gasp uncontrollably in surprise. The electric sensation was there again.

"Yes, my handsome young boy, I do know some alternatives." Joey had been so lost in the new sensations, things he'd never felt before, never allowed himself to feel, that it took a second to realize what Richard was talking about. He didn't quite panic, he was too relaxed, too enthralled by the petting sensation.

He shook his head from side to side. "I'm not a fag. I don't do that sort of thing. I'm a man, men don't submit like women."

Richard smiled, and ran his index finger down the Joey's breastbone tickling his chest hair, his finger swirling around Joey's belly button. Joey sucked in his breath, still weakly trying to shake his head. His bloated prick seemed to be bobbing on its own. "I never said you were." Richard soothed.

"I can tell looking at your hot, hairy body that you're a real man." He ran all his fingers across Joey's chest, stirring the hairs almost painfully. "You've got an incredible hairy chest, great pecs," his finger nail brushed the underside of Joey's left pectoral muscle, he felt his left nipple contracting. "Great biceps," he ran the tip of his finger down the inside of Joey's bicep, tracing a throbbing vein. "No, you are a man all right. But I think I can give you the sort of release you need, like a man. You can be dominant." Joey's eyes locked on Richard's, his head not moving.

"You can control my pleasure. I'll submit, I'll let you regulate the pleasure I receive. You can do that, it's not much different from what you'd do with a woman is it? If you're in charge of the pleasure." His hand brushed over Joey's left nipple, then his right.

"What?" Joey asked somewhat breathlessly.

"Just like we talked about in the bar. I'll let you control my pleasure."

"You mean..." Joey's eyes slid from Richard's, down the man's massively hairy chest, downward over the stomach to the towel. The towel was stirring, as if alive. It was big. Richard moved one of his hands, not the one petting Joey. The towel slid to the floor, briefly catching on what was beneath it.

Joey swallowed. Hard. What was beneath the towel took his breath away. The hair covering Richard's stomach flowed uninterrupted downward, covering the front of his groin and thighs, and on down the legs. Tightly wound black pubic hair mounded around the center of Richard's groin, swirling around his ballsack and disappearing between his legs. Joey couldn't quite follows the path of the hair, there was too much in the way.

Richard's member was big. Like all of him. Joey had trouble breathing just looking at it. It wasn't yet fully tumescent, it was still growing. It was big, big, was all Joey could think. Joey thought his own was big at 7", Richard's was much bigger and it was quickly getting larger. Joey watched it grow, mesmerized as the veins pumped blood in to the massive member. Watched the hairy stock of the shaft go first perpendicular and then upward from the groin.

The tip had been partially sheathed by foreskin, but as blood swelled it in length and girth, the foreskin retracted, the bright shiny head emerging like a snake from its layer. The crown was thick and full, standing out from the stalk, slightly rough around the edges but shiny slick as the skin climbed up to the piss slit. Joey remember to swallow again. Trying to break his fascination, he looked downward. Eggs, Richard's ballsack hung fairly low from his dick, the wrinkled skin as hairy as the rest of him. But even though the sack went low, the balls didn't. Or rather, the balls did, but they were so huge they seemed to almost fill the sack. Each one nearly larger than both of Joey's together. Suddenly Joey had a nearly irresistible urge to suck on them. He shook his head slightly, what was wrong with him?

Joey tried to bring his eyes back up to Richard's, but his gaze stopped as it passed over the tip of Richard's penis. The piss slit had spread wide, the head taught with tension. From out of the slit, something clear had startled to bubble. Precum, Richard's prick was oozing precum, just like his own still aching member. Thinking of it, he could almost feel the precum oozing over the tip of his own penis.

Richard's massive dick, easily 13" long, Joey guessed in his inebriated state, seemed to move forward on its own, until it was only an inch or two from Joey's nose. Joey had never seen another man's prick this close before. He was familiar inside and out with his own, but it wasn't the same. Richard's swollen member held an unspeakable fascination in Joey's mind. He'd never seen another man's piss slit pull wide with the taughtened skin. Never seen another man's ooze that sweet looking sticky substance. He'd never seen such a massive piece of manly perfection. This was what it meant to be a man. Richard was a man, with a man's stature, a man's arms and legs, a man's hairy chest, unquestionably a man's dick and balls, and perhaps most of all, a man's self confidence and assurance.

"I...I can't..." Joey breathed weakly.

"You can." Richard stated firmly. "You will be in control, you will be giving the pleasure, you will be dominant." Joey bit his lip. "You've gone down on a woman haven't you?" Joey nodded weakly. "You were in control then..." Joey nodded slightly, "and so you will be now." The massive piece of man flesh moved forward. Joey's eyes locked on the oozing dribble of precum spilling from the slit.

He tilted his eyes downward as the tip approached his lips. The head stopped right under his nose. His mouth parted slightly He couldn't see the pearly drop at the tip, but he could feel it. Feel his breath bouncing off the tip, reflecting the sweet yet tangy man scent back to him. It was there. Waiting. He closed his eyes. Hesitantly, carefully, his tongue slipped, almost with a will of its own, from between his lips. It didn't have to stretch far, it struck something soft, something wet, something salty, something both slick and yet clingy. His tongue recoiled into his mouth. But it was too late, the drop had attached to his tongue. He pulled the warm fluid of manhood into his mouth.

It tasted...sweet, tangy, slimy, bitter...all these flavors and more he couldn't specify. His stomach lurched, something shifted, something indefinable. He felt like a babe at teat. He puckered his lips, quickly they encounter the soft, satin like head. Joey's tongue darted between his lips, into the crevice, down the piss slit. It couldn't reach far, but his tongue relished the texture, the feeling of the inside of the slit, the slightly sweet-tangy fluid still slowly burbling from the slit. His lips stretched, suckling on the tip.

The dick was big, bigger than anything he'd ever put in his mouth. There was no way he could fit the hole thing in his mouth. He tried, he stretched, with a slight pop, the head was in. Joey tried not to let his teeth touch the head, but he couldn't help it, slightly they touched it, dragging gently along the edge of the crown. In his mouth he swirled his tongue around the soft spongy tip. It was like a giant strawberry, but with a spongy outside, hard core. He lapped all over the tip and around the edges. Breathing only through his nose, there was no room for air around the tight seal of his lips pressed tightly long the veined flesh.

Caught up in the incredible sensation in his mouth, Joey only vaguely began to feel the slight tugging and twisting of his nipples. It felt good. God, did it feel good. He let his breath out through his nose and began to suck, suck on the head of the massive prick lodged in his mouth. The tugging on his nipples became more insistent, somewhere between a small pain and a great pleasure. Joey felt his cock bobbing in time with his sucking. His groin felt moist and sticky from his own boy juice spilling from his little prick.

Suddenly there was almost a sharp pain from both of his nipples. Joey's eyes went wide open as he gasped. As he gasped, suddenly the massive crown of Richard's penis made a dive for the back of Joey's throat. Tears welled from Joey's eyes as the mammoth piece of manhood pounded on the back of his throat. He thought his jaw was going to break. The pain in his nipples was forgotten. Only the agony of his jaw remained, that and the pressure at the back of his throat. Pressure almost cutting off his air. Insistent pressure, cutting off air. Panic! and then Relief! the pressure eased, sliding forward in his mouth, sucking air in through his nostrils. Pressure again. the pounding at the back of his throat, then relief, air. Pressure, relief, pressure, relief. Over an over, Joey could see little through the tears in his eyes. Every now and then he would feel a tickling at his nose as wiry pubic hair from the base of Richard's penis rubbed against his nose. Even pounding on the back of his throat, Joey realized Richard's huge meat was only halfway swallowed. The tugging on his nipples was still there, an insistent dull aching pleasure, but not painful.

As the cycle went, on, somehow, Joey figured out how to breath as the mammoth cock plowed his mouth. Eventually he figured out how to still use his tongue on the undershaft, even while it pulled back and forth. The rhythm went on, and on steady, reassuring. Joey's jaw ceased aching and as saliva built in his mouth and his tongue found it's place. Joey suddenly discovered his whole body was moving in rhythm with the pounding in his throat. His breathing, his slurping, the tugging on his nipples, the bobbing of his cock and even, it seemed, the beating of his heart.

Within only a few moments of this realization, Joey felt something change, the rhythm shifted. The rhythm was faster, yet shallower. Quicker almost brutal, but he kept with it. In Out In Out. And then it happened, at the back of his throat. Richard's cock seemed to swell even larger, if that were possible. What was happening?

Even as the motion had stopped at the moment of swelling, it dawned on Joey what was happening. The huge appendage lodged in Joey's mouth was throbbing in hard spasms, as it backed part way out, Joey could feel hot salty fluid pumping from the piss slit. Pumping into his mouth. Richard had come in his mouth. A man was fucking coming in Joey's mouth. As the realization hit him, so too did his own orgasm. A huge electric current swept from the base of Joey's balls up his prick, simultaneously jolting up his spine to the base of his skull. The incessant throbbing of his own dick seemed to merge with the throbbing organ in his throat. Joey's muscles locked in an orgasmic spasm, his toes curling has his spurting prick covered his furry stomach in jism. Frantically Joey gulped the hot salty nectar of manhood pumping down his throat, feeling suddenly desperate not to lose a drop.

After a few moments the huge cock in his mouth, now not quite so rigid began to withdraw. Joey sucked on it, trying to keep it from leaving. Trying to draw the last bit of man juice from the slit that he could. To no avail, the huge piece that had felt so good in his throat was gone, as was the tugging on his nipples.

Eyes closed he felt Richard withdraw from beside the bed. Joey sobbed slightly. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to be left alone. The room went dark as the lights went out. Then he felt the bed shift beside him, as Richard climbed onto the bed. Gently the big man rolled Joey onto his side, so that Joey's back was to Richard.

Joey felt a large weight press against his back as Richard's came over his own arm to embrace him in a tight hug. Richard's large hand reached between Joey's arms and came to rest over his left pectoral, gently cupping it. Holding Joey tight, and safe.

Two

The dull reddish glow of sun light on his eyelids finally woke Joey. "Shit." Joey said bringing his hand to his forehead to massage the ache behind his eyes. "Too much to drink." How much had he drank last night? He bought one, and the Richard had bought at least 7 more beers. Richard! The night came back to him. Fuck! what had he done? Joey looked quickly around for the big man, but found he was alone in the bedroom with early afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

Joey sat up slowly. Crap! He, Joey, had sucked another guys dick! What had gotten into him. He smacked his mouth again trying to wash away the spongy cotton mouth of the beer's after effects and the other stuff he'd swallowed. That made him wince. Richard had come in his mouth. He'd drunk another guys cum. His stomach wrenched slowly, not with the thought of the action, but rather with sudden cold realization that he had sort of liked it even. What had happened to him. Was he a fag?

No! he wasn't no queer. He'd been drunk. That was it. And horny, very horny. Richard had sort of taken advantage of him. That was it, his mind wanted to. Unfortunately, it wasn't completely convinced. His mind's eye could still see Richard's oozing cock, and even now, he could still remember the feeling almost like hunger it had caused in him.

Whatever the case, he wasn't a fag. It was just one time, sort of an exploration like thing. Just drunk, horny curiosity that was all. Lot of guys fiddled around in their teens. Joey hadn't, but he'd heard of guys that had, and they weren't all fags. So Joey was a little late. It didn't matter, he knew what he really wanted. Women, like any normal guy. He rubbed his dick at the thought. Unfortunately, it seemed a little worn out at the moment.

He looked around the room again. What about Richard? Where was he? There was no way Joey felt like seeing him. What would he say? Christ. As he looked around the room, he noticed his clothes folded neatly on a chair in the corner. On top was a note.

Joey got up and walked over to the clothes. He picked up the note.

Joey,

Had to go to work this morning. Sorry to just disappear like that, but I didn't want to wake you. There are towels in the bathroom and help yourself to some food in the fridge. I probably won't be home until late tonight, so I'd appreciate it if you could lock the door as when you leave.

However, I enjoyed our conversation at the bar last night, and if you ever want to continue it, just stop by the bar and ask for me. The bartender will either know where I am, or be able to get a hold of me.

Sincerely,

 

Richard

 

Joey wasn't sure whether to be relieved or anxious that Richard wasn't there. At least it made things easier. Joey didn't think he'd ever be able to face the guy again. Joey wasn't a fag, but he knew Richard would probably think he was. Shit, he'd sucked the man's dick. So what if Richard said that made him dominant, real men didn't routinely run around sucking each other's cocks.

Joey was feeling rather queasy and uncertain by this point. He didn't want to stick around any longer than necessary, so he decided to skip the shower. He quickly dressed in his suit. After dressing he headed down the stairs and out the front door. He locked it on his way out. Now if he could just figure out where the bus stop was.

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