A gay story: Neighbourhood Ch. 03 All characters are over 18.
*****
A few days after my encounter with Mr. Temple, there was a knock at my apartment door and, for a change, I was neither naked nor jerking off. I approached the door with anticipation, thinking of the seduction that had taken place the last time I had a visitor.
I opened the door on Mary Miller: neighbour; stunning goth girl; object of my crush and, like me, a willing slave to the bachelors who lived in the brown bungalow down the street. I was curious why she was here since she had never expressed anything for me but contempt.
She came to the point without a greeting. “Carlo has called a meeting at the house and we’re to attend.”
Mention of Carlo turned my legs to rubber. The black man had talked me to my knees and into taking cock in my throat and up my ass. Mick and Marty, his roommates, had likewise filled my holes to my great satisfaction. I’d been dealing with the transformation I’d made from straight boy to biddable queer bottom-boy over the past few days and not without difficulty, but I had no real religious hang-ups and pleasure had won me over. I was starting to accept that I was bisexual.
It was a warm day, so I was fine to go out in the shorts and t-shirt I was wearing. I slipped into my sandals and locked my apartment door behind us. As we headed for the sidewalk, I questioned Mary.
“What’s the meeting about?”
“You’ll see,” Mary said.
The brown bungalow was only a few doors down. We were there in a little over two minutes: not enough time to talk to Mary about how she was adapting to life as a convenient whore to the three bachelors. I would hardly have asked in a judgemental fashion; after all, I was in the same position. She might have been seduced, but her whole notion of her sexuality hadn’t been turned over as mine had been. A few days ago, I was confidently straight. Now I was giving my ass to any man who demanded it. My thoughts lingered on my encounter with Mr. Temple, who lacked the obvious sex appeal of the younger men but fired me up anyway.
As usual, Carlo, Mick and Marty were sitting out on their porch, filling the ratty old sofa which was the only comfortable place to sit. Mary and I would be expected to sit on cardboard cases filled with empty beer bottles alongside four other people I didn’t know. Carlo introduced everyone. There was a curvy thirties-ish MILF with red hair and freckles named Wanda; a forties-ish buttoned-up woman in a plaid skirt and glasses with her brown hair pulled back in a bun who for all the world looked like the stereotype of an old-time spinster librarian and who name was Leni; a vivacious, curly-haired blonde named Jessica who might have been fifty, who was dressed like a country music singer, right down to a flannel shirt which was partly unbuttoned to show off an ample bosom; and finally, Dennis, a slightly chunky, heavily-built man of perhaps thirty, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.
“Okay,” said Carlo. “I called this meeting because a problem has been brought to my attention. Do any of you know this man?” Carlo turned his cellphone screen-out toward the group. The screen capture was not high-resolution, but the rounded edges of the figure were clear enough, as was the leering face.
I recognized him immediately as Mr. Temple, who lived across the street from the brown house. He had also banged me into oblivion the other day. I was reluctant to admit to this in a group made up of masters and strangers in almost equal measure.
“I know him,” Mary said. The disdain was strong in her voice. For some reason, her admission made me confess.
“I know him too. It’s Mr. Temple.”
None of the rest of the group spoke up. I wondered about them. If they were called to this meeting, were they all willing slaves like Mary and me?
“How do you know him?” Carlo asked me.
The whole truth came out despite my reluctance. I told them how the man appeared at my door a couple of days ago and blackmailed me into sex using video of me with the bachelors, which he claimed he would send to all my contacts if I didn’t do exactly what he asked. Some of the other willing slaves looked at me with a touch of interest, as if that was something they might like to have seen.
“And Mary?” Carlo prompted her.
“He came banging on my door this afternoon, and demanded I have sex with him or he would send a video of me with you guys out to all my contacts.” She held up her phone and played the full video from her porch security camera. It was clearly the source video for the screen capture Carlo had shown. There was no sound but Mr. Temple was quite aggressive, attempting to grab Mary and managing to tear the neck of her t-shirt, exposing a naked breast, before she shoved him away from the door and slammed it in her face.
When Carlo was satisfied that none of his other willing slaves had been accosted by Mr. Temple, he dismissed Wanda, Leni, Jessica and Dennis, reassuring them that Mr. Temple would not become a problem for them.
When those four were gone, Carlo said it was time to visit Mr. Temple.
“Do you want us all to come?” Mick asked.
“No need. He won’t want to talk on his doorstep about any of this and if we come in force, he might be alarmed. I’ll bring him back here.” Carlo turned to face Mary and me. “Come with me.”
Mary and I followed Carlo across the street to Mr. Temple’s house. I would never have had the nerve to go there by myself, but in Carlo’s shadow, I was filled only with curiosity. How would the bully take his own medicine?
We mounted the steps to Mr. Temple’s porch and Carlo confidently knocked at the door. After a moment, a woman answered the door. She was probably about fifty-five. Her black hair was shot through with a little grey. She wore an apron over her dress. She was the picture of feminine domesticity from a bygone age.
“Mrs. Temple?” Carlo said.
“Yes.” Her answer was tentative. She may have recognized the black man from the notorious house across the street.
“I’ve come to see Mr. Temple. Is he in?”
“Yes, of course.” It was subtle but I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment on her fact that this solid, handsome man did not have business with her and once more I marveled at the charisma of Carlo and his friends. She turned into the house and called once for “Gus”.
Mr. Temple filled the doorway from behind. He was a former jock gone to seed. He wore a loud shirt of many colours and a pair of shorts. His wife seemed to have locked eyes with Carlo. Mr. Temple cleared his throat and his wife realized he was there.
“Thanks, Elke,” Mr. Temple said. “I got this. You can go back to peeling your carrots.” I took this to mean she was making supper. The time of day was about right.
“Yes, dear,” she said. She gave Carlo a little nod of courtesy and retired deeper into the house. Mr. Temple spoke in a harsh whisper when his wife was out of range.
“So, what do you three want?”
“Mr. Temple, we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Carlo.” The black man did not match the older man’s whisper; he spoke openly in a voice that carried. He held out his hand to the plump blackmailer but Mr. Temple did not reach back. “I believe you know my friends here.”
“I know who you all are. What do you want?”
“I want to talk about blackmail.”
“For Christ’s sake, keep your voice down.” Mr. Temple stepped out of the house and closed the door.
“I’m not going to whisper. I intend to be heard. If you can’t speak freely here, come across the street and we’ll settle it over there.”
A flash of fear crossed Mr. Temple’s face, but he quickly saw that he had no choice. There were sandals on the porch. Mr. Temple slipped them on. “Alright then.” He opened the door and stuck his head in the house, calling out to his wife. “I’m going out for a while. Keep my dinner warm.” There was an agreeable, if weary, acknowledgement from the kitchen.
Once situated in the living room of the little brown house, Mr. Temple had a chair of his own, but found himself surrounded. With Carlo, Mick and Marty, plus Mary and me, he was pretty isolated and maybe he realized that he was in over his head. He tried to bluff his way through with a courage that seemed, even to me, a trifle forced.
“So, you heard I got a piece of your action, and you’re pissed, is that it?”
“No,” said Carlo. “We don’t own anybody. They can screw whoever they want, like we do. And we do it by persuading them they want it until they can’t resist it. You, though, you’re a blackmailer. You force people into having sex with you.”
“Ah, we’re not so different. We both take what we want. We’re alike.”
“We’re nothing alike.” Carlo gestured to Mary and she played back the security camera footage of Mr. Temple’s assault on her. Temple winced. He clearly had not known he had been acting out on camera. Carlo pointed to me and recounted in summary what Temple had done to me. I have to admit I felt conflicted, because though I’d been blackmailed, I enjoyed every minute of satisfying Mr. Temple’s lust.
“So, what do you want me to say? I won’t do it again? Fine, I won’t do it again.”
“That’s a good start. We’re making progress. Now we need to deal with what you’ve already done. Mary, how much does he owe you for that torn shirt?”
“Sixty dollars.”
Carlo looked expectantly at Mr. Temple. The older man sighed and pulled out his wallet. He counted out sixty dollars and passed it to Mary.
“Now, there’s the tricky matter of what to do about what you did to him.” Carlo pointed at me.
“Aw, give me a break,” Carlo said. “He loved it.”
“Yes, he said he enjoyed it. That’s the only reason we’re not going hard on you. That wouldn’t be so tricky. What we need to do is level the playing field. The only way we can trust you not to put your blackmail threat into action is if we have some equal leverage against you. Mutually Assured Destruction, as they used to say. Normally, I would never force anyone into anything uncomfortable but for a blackmailer, anything goes. I suggest you go along with us.”
“What–what do you intend to do to me?”
“Same as you did to him.”
“Look, I’m a retired cop. I’ve got friends. If you do this to me, your life will be Hell.”
“Ah, yes. So you told Mary and our boy here. Only I have a friend too, and he’s something of a hacker. It turns out you’re a former security guard, not a cop. You didn’t even carry a gun. I hear you got caught on security tape with a hooker at one of your jobs. You were fired and you’ve been living on your wife’s family’s money ever since.”
Mr. Temple blanched.
“Mrs. Temple seems nice. I liked her instantly and I could tell she liked me. I’m sure if she’s completely happy in her marriage, she’d be likely to stand by you after I show her this recording of you accosting a girl barely out of her teens. Or after I tell her about you and our boy here.”
Mr. Temple cracked instantly. “Don’t tell her. I can’t manage without her.”
“Then we have an understanding. You will do exactly as we say. Or we will do exactly what we say.”
Mr. Temple broke down into a blubbering mass and I almost felt sorry for him. I could easily forget how he treated me in view of the pleasure of the occasion and the lack of any consequences for me but I could never forget that footage of him tearing Mary’s shirt while trying to blackmail her into bed with him.
When Carlo spoke, he sounded surprisingly compassionate.
“Gus, it’s alright. You’re going to get off easy. We’re going to fuck you and we’re going to film you. Then you can’t blackmail us, we can’t blackmail you. All is fair.”
“What if, what if I delete all the footage I took?”
“In the digital age? We could never be sure you didn’t keep a copy somewhere. No, it’s better this way, Gus.”
The occasion was a rare one as the bachelors had turned off their music for the meeting. As a consequence, Mr. Temple’s sobs filled the room for a few moments until Carlo told him it was enough. Temple’s display was beginning to irritate him.
“Okay, Gus, be a man about it,” Carlo said, raising his phone up and turning on the video record feature. “Stand up and strip. Slowly.”
I was amazed at the change in Mr. Temple. He went on automatic, rising to his feet and looking at the camera. He unbuttoned his loud, Hawaiian shirt, revealing a hairy chest and swollen man-boobs above a trail of hair from his chest to his waistline that flared around the navel before disappearing beneath his pants. When he took the shirt off, hair could be seen standing off his shoulders and the full extent of his gut could be appreciated. He kicked off the sandals.
“Introduce yourself to the camera,” Carlo said. Mr. Temple obeyed as conscientiously as any actor wanting to get it right in one take.
“I’m Gus Temple.”
“What’s Gus short for?”
“August.”
“Okay, Gus. Take off those shorts.”
Mr. Temple obeyed and to his apparent horror, the same thing happened to him as happened to me. He had an erection.
“A boner from taking orders to strip? Are you sure you’re a top?”
Temple mumbled something incomprehensible. Carlo didn’t ask him to repeat it.
“Okay, now, Gus. You’ve been a very bad boy. I think you need to apologize to the young lady, don’t you think?”
“Okay.”
He started to stammer that he was sorry, but Carlo told him to wait that out a minute. There was a proper way to apologize to a woman wronged. Carlo directed Mary to step forward before telling Mr. Temple to drop to his knees in front of her. Temple complied and on Carlo’s command, the older man, supporting himself on knees and elbows began to lick Mary’s black leather boots, interspersing licks with words of apology. Maybe he hoped this would be the extent of the humiliation in store for him. It could have been, Carlo let him work at it long enough, never letting the camera catch a view of her above the knees. Her anonymity in the video was safe.
“Okay, Gus,” Carlo said. “Time for you to make a cocksleeve for my friends here.”
Mr. Temple raised his face from Mary’s boots, but Carlo redirected him back to licking the leather.
“Springing that boner makes me think maybe you’ve been a bottom before.”
Mr. Temple continued licking Mary’s boots but his denial was clear. Perhaps he hoped for mercy.
“Whatever, here comes cock number one.” Mick had already pulled his pants down to his knees and freed his tool from his underwear. He had been prepared for his task, coming ready with wood and lube. Mr. Temple was still on his knees and elbows and it was easy for Mick to position himself behind the bully’s ass. Mick slathered a bit of lube in Mr. Temple’s anus and the older man shuddered, with fear or anticipation, only he could say.
“Alright, Gus, this is the part where you look at the camera.” The older man turned his dreamy gaze on Carlo and his phone. “Tell the audience what you want. You know what you want, don’t you?”
“I want cock.” Mr. Temple spoke softly. He had been completely broken.
“Where do you want it?”
“I want a cock in my ass.” I felt my own dick twitch in quiet correspondence with Mr. Temple’s as he said these words.
“Do you like having meat shoved up your arse?”
“Yes, I love it.”
“You know that with a word from you this can stop instantly?”
“Yes. I don’t want to stop. I want my asshole filled with his dick.”
“Don’t you mean all of our dicks?”
“Yes, please. Please just don’t show my wife. I love her and need her so much.”
“If you do as you’re told, nobody will ever see it. Tell the man behind you when you’re ready for a spear of flesh in your backside and then go back to licking her boots.”
Listening as Mr. Temple begged Mick to impale his ass was a powerful turn-on to me. Perhaps, it was the sympathetic response of my own recent submissive streak or maybe I was just turned on at the sight of that mountain of flesh quivering as Mick’s cock entered him. Even as Mr. Temple continued to lap at Mary’s leather-shod feet, he issued grunts and groans, first of pain and then with a surprised pleasure.
“How’s that, Gus?” Carlo said.
Mr. Temple looked at the camera-phone and said something unintelligible. Gus told him to repeat it. It came forth like a release, like a secret guiltily held for so long and finally shared.
“It feels so good,” Mr. Temple said.
Carlo paused the recording and asked Mary if she’d had enough back from Mr. Temple. She thought about it. He’d replaced the value of the torn shirt and he was paying now in spades for the indignity he inflicted upon her. She nodded to say that she was satisfied.
“Good,” Carlo said to her. Then he addressed me. “I know you enjoyed what he did to you, but you must appreciate he took unfair advantage of you.” (I didn’t interrupt to tell him that was half the fun.) “It’s your turn to enjoy him at his disadvantage.”
I don’t think I’m the kind of person who would ever force someone to do anything against his will or blackmail anyone, but the trembling mound of flesh that was Mr. Temple turned me on as much when he was submissive to me as when he had been dominant over me. Now, as he was firmly fucked from behind, his cock hungry and hard, he had desire in his eyes and I responded to it. I had wood.
“Take his mouth,” Carlo said.
I knelt in front of the prostrate former security guard and would-be blackmailer and pulled down my shorts and underwear. I was not self-conscious of being exposed in a group anymore, as the four men here had all fucked me and the one woman here had seen me fucked before. She would think no worse of me for this. I leaned in toward Mr. Temples head, which, thanks to the vigorous plowing of his ass, was already bobbing in a rhythm that would be useful in giving me head. The older man’s lips closed around mine and it was instantly apparent from his technique that he had never conceived of performing fellatio. I gave a firm instruction to my newly-minted cocksucker to be careful of his teeth on my pecker.
I looked over at Carlo, who looked back with amusement. He was enjoying the humbling of Mr. Temple. The camera-phone was aimed down and I imagined the picture on Carlo’s screen: a large, balding and hairy man with his orifices filled with cock. Neither Mick nor I had our faces in the picture.
For several minutes, I just enjoyed the stimulation as Mr. Temple grunted and groaned, even choked, on my dick, but then, Mick must have passed the point of no return because he started really flexing his hips against the older man’s ass, sinking his cock in as deep as he could go and practically out again over and over again. Mick’s breath was telling, and after a few gasps and a deep groan, he pulled out, causing Mr. Temple to groan with overwhelming sensation as his ass was evacuated. Mick held his penis at the root, aiming carefully in order to stripe Mr. Temple’s back with strings of semen. Mick gave his erstwhile bottom’s ass a slap and he laughed as the man’s cheeks and rolls jiggled like Jell-O. The camera would not lie if it was forced to tell the world that the middle-aged man had rolled over hard for cock.
Mick withdrew, but another male body replaced him in the camera viewfinder. The face was once more invisible to the recording device, but Marty could easily be identified by the distinctive cock he rolled out of his pants. I was still getting a blowjob but there was stimulation as well in what I had to look at: Marty’s beer-can-shaped cock was gradually widening Mr. Temple’s hole as he was impaled on it. Having felt that hard stub in my ass, I remembered how filling it was, how it seemed to make space for itself in the narrow tunnel of my asshole. Mr. Temple was struggling to accommodate the sheer girth of this foreign flesh, but I could tell the exact moment when the struggle was won. Mr. Temple’s eyes went wide as he was filled and Marty groaned as he buried his cylinder in the now-welcoming hole. With that, Marty’s ass-fucking set a pace for all of the participants of Carlo’s movie. Mr. Temple rocked back and forth on hands and knees, trying to withstand the onslaught against his backside. I sawed in and out of the man’s mouth, enjoying the sensation, but far from ready to pop.
“Enjoying cock in your ass and mouth, Gus?”
Mr. Temple nodded. I could feel that through his blowjob, but Carlo wasn’t satisfied with a nod.
“Need you to say it, Cocksucker.”
Mr. Temple stopped blowing me long enough to look at the camera and answer, though the barrage on his arse made him grunt.
“Unh… It feels so good… unh… having cock in my… unh… ass and mouth… unh…”
“Do you like being fucked by us better than being fucked by your wife?”
“Unh… yes, this is… unh… so much better… unh… please don’t tell her!”
“That all depends on you, Gus.”
“Uhn… I’ll do anything… unh… whatever you say… unh…”
“I like your attitude, Gus. Maybe if you push back hard against that ass-whipping you’re getting, it’ll get Marty off.”
“Unh… okay… anything…” Mr. Temple was as good as his word, shoving back against every thrust to maximize Marty’s stimulation. The blowjob suffered a bit, but I was content for now to enjoy the show as Mr. Temple licked and sucked my cock.
With the added stimulation, Marty couldn’t last long. He withdrew, stood up and stroked his cock maybe half-a-dozen times over Mr. Temple’s back, and then he was shooting with a loud moan of pleasure. Once more, a cock glazed the older man’s back, but this time instead of stripes, the ejaculation took the form of a shower, each spurt dividing into dozens of pearly-white droplets. And then Marty was gone, and Carlo was kneeling in the place his friend vacated. I looked behind me and saw that Mick was minding the camera now, but Carlo required no direction. He pressed his own better-than-average-sized cock into the expanded cavity, feeling little until the walls of Mr. Temple’s arse closed a little from the stretching Mick had given it. Then he picked up speed almost immediately, saying to Mr. Temple, “You’re not really my type, so I want to get this over with quickly. You sleeping up there? You’re supposed to be sucking that cock, not just nipping at it. Get on with it.”
I felt a renewed passion for my cock from Mr. Temple as he took Carlo’s words to heart. He inhaled my erection and began to give me some proper attention but it seemed it was at the cost of the work he was doing behind him.
“Okay, you’re blowing him alright again, but you’re not moving your hips. If you can’t do the jobs together, we might try to get someone who can. Might check with Mrs. Temple and see if she is up to the work.”
“Please… unh… Please leave her alone… unh… I’m doing what you asked!” There was a note of panic.
“Relax, Gus. Just a little reminder that the little lady doing your carrots right now could find out about this if you make one wrong move, and then she could be doing… our carrots.”
Mr. Temple didn’t need further motivation. He maintained a strong cocksucking pressure while pressing back and forth to meet the thrusts of the black man in his ass. Carlo rammed that back end for all it was worth, almost as if he treated this as a distasteful job that needed to be done, while Mr. Temple matched his pace, slapping his ass back against Carlo’s thighs.
I was watching Carlo’s face when his eyes glazed over and his groans began. He pulled out as his friends had and his dick twitched in his hand as he directed his semen over the man’s frosted back. From where I was kneeling, in front of Mr. Temple’s ministering face, the jerking cock slung a dozen strings of semen over the canvas of flesh on which Mick and Marty had already painted.
Carlo wiped his dick against the older man’s buttocks, drying it off before he put it back in his pants. He stood up, took back the camera-phone and paused the recording to address Mary.
“What about it, Mary? Do you want to peg the old man? We’ve got the gear if you want it.”
Mary was not interested. She said she was satisfied seeming him humiliated.
“Okay, Bottom,” Carlo said to me. “You want a crack at that ass? You’ve a right.”
I was glad to be asked, but not quite as comfortable violating him as the others were.
“What do you say, Mr. Temple?” I asked.
There was no hesitation. Whether he spoke from desperation to please Carlo or some authentic place was something I couldn’t be sure of. I remembered my own consensual transformation into a cum bucket for the three bachelors. I would have done anything for them. “Yes, please,” he said to Carlo before looking up at me and begging me to fill his asshole.
“Looks like we have a true believer here. Fuck him, Bottom.”
I honestly think Carlo called me “Bottom” because he couldn’t remember my real name half the time.
I took my place behind the fat man, still positioned on his knees and elbows, ass-up. I had one other concern. Though my arse had been used many times now, I had not yet penetrated another man. Mr. Temple was going to be my first. I leveled my cock at his asshole and realized there would be no problem as the older man’s ass had been broken in by my predecessors. I could slide right in, and that’s just what I did. I wasn’t as large as the men of the house, but I could tell I was felt inside him. He moaned.
Perhaps the spectators realized this was a momentous occasion for me, as they started to cheer me on. “Fuck his ass! Fuck his ass!” Even Mary cheered me on and I was accustomed to being ignored by her.
As I fell into a rhythm, the attraction for fucking an ass really became apparent to me. Even after being busted wide open, there was still a tightness here, and the lube left over from the others made my passage easy. After a few minutes of glorious sensation and the sounds of a groaning newly-coined bottom beneath me, I felt the pressure in my loins beginning to build. The cheering squad took up a new refrain: “Fas-ter, fas-ter, fas-ter!”
I did what I assumed was expected and pulled my cock out of his ass when I was ready to come. I let out a long exhalation and held my dick steady as it whipped the man’s semen-glazed back with new lines of milky cum. Mr. Temple collapsed and groaned. I wondered if he came through any part of his ordeal. Mary, Mick, Marty and Carlo cheered the completion of the act.
Carlo looked down at Mr. Temple and smiled. “Remember, we have this on video. You’re ours now. Not the way Mary or the Bottom there are ours: they’re volunteers and can quit anytime they want. You, though, you do exactly what we say and when we say it. Right now, I want you to get up, wipe the cum off you like a respectable gentleman and go mow our lawn.”
“Mow the lawn?” Mr. Temple repeated the phrase like he didn’t know what it meant. Marty threw him a towel that was apparently used for a cum-rag and the fat man began to rub it across his back.
“Well, even our volunteers have their jobs around here. Why shouldn’t the slaves? But from now on, you know the score. You keep your videos secret and so will we. Share yours and we share ours. And once a week, you mow the lawn. If you’re lucky, one of us might throw you a mercy fuck. Agreed?”
“Okay, as long as my wife doesn’t know about it, and you leave her alone, agreed.”
“Well, your wife need never know about our arrangements, but I kind of liked the looks of her. Solid build. Nice rack. Pretty eyes. I don’t promise not to go over and see about borrowing a cup of sugar, but that impulse might not arise if you stick to the agreement. Any questions?”
“Where’s the lawnmower?”
“We don’t have one. Use yours. And your gas.”
“Okay.” Mr. Temple was utterly broken. Any pretence of superiority was gone. There was something new though, a look in his eye that suggested he had discovered something very important.
“Good, better get started. Your wife will be wondering when you’re coming home for dinner, and you’re not eating a bite until that lawn is cut.”
“Okay,” he said again.
“And the rest of us are more than ready for a beer, so get going.”
Mary and I joined the bachelors for a few beers. Mary left while the old man was cutting the grass and I left shortly after. It didn’t take Mr. Temple very long to do the work and he rolled his lawnmower back across the street. We all wondered what the man would tell his wife about why he had been called away and why he had cut the lawn across the street. In the end, nobody doubted he’d lie his way out of it. This was the first time I drank with the bachelors without being fucked by one or all of them, but I didn’t let it go to my head. I left the house shortly after Mr. Temple went back to his wife and his waiting supper.
Around nine that night, there was a knock at my apartment door and once again I was clothed and abstinent from my usual custom of jerking off. I went to the door and moved the curtain aside to look out the window. It was Mr. Temple.
My first impulse was to be afraid. This man had come to my door before and blackmailed me into sex. Now the tables had turned on him and he was the one being blackmailed. Was this some desperate attempt to enlist me in a plot to procure the evidence? Was he here to take revenge on me for fucking him with the others today? His face, lit through the glass, showed no threat but rather an expression that was almost humble.
I flung open the door and said his name.
“Hi,” he said. “I dropped by to see if you’re interested in an apology.”
That was unexpected. So was the case of beer under his arm. He proffered it toward me.
“To help make amends,” he said. He must have been in my refrigerator the last time he visited because he had bought my favourite brand.
“I thought this afternoon was your apology.”
“That was forced. Couldn’t blame you if you thought it was insincere. Beer makes everything sincere.”
I let him in. He kicked his sandals off at the door. I didn’t take the offered case of beer, instead letting him bring it in and place it in my typically empty bachelor fridge. It had occurred to me that handing someone something heavy in trust and then punching them in the gut would be a good way in if you were out for blood. I was still a little suspicious. Mr. Temple pulled two cans of beer out of the case and asked if I wanted one. To suspect him of poisoning a can was paranoid, not suspicious, and a beer would go down a treat for my nerves.
We both popped tabs and sipped the head off the drinks. Finally, I offered Mr. Temple a place to sit on the couch in my living room. I took a cautious pose on the opposite side.
“I won’t take much of your time,” he said. “I just want to tell you that I’m sorry for how I treated you, blackmailing you like that. It was wrong.”
Frankly, I was over it. The pleasure of our first encounter overrode my outrage at being blackmailed really, but any lingering concern about the blackmail had been canceled by this afternoon’s counter-blackmail solution. I was confident that I was safe from Mr. Temple’s use of video evidence to expose me to my friends and family.
“I accept your apology. Thanks for the beer.”
“Carlo said you enjoyed our time together.”
“I did.”
“It sounds like I could have just knocked and propositioned you.” His tone turned light.
“About right.” I smiled.
“In that case, and I have no right to ask, and I have no intention of trying to compel you, but, in that case, are you interested in continuing relations?”
I stared at him in surprise, but he may have taken my expression as a suggestion that he was crazy.
“I’m just thinking, since you apparently enjoyed our last encounter, and since the men at the house there said you were nobody’s property, maybe you’re not off-limits.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “You’re really persistent. And horny as Hell. Didn’t you go home and throw one in the old lady after getting so thoroughly fucked?”
“Nah, when I got home, she was in a snit about me being late for dinner and doing the lawn for our least favourite neighbours. It’ll be a while before she comes around, but better that than she should discover what I was up to.”
“So, let me guess. You’ve got blue balls.”
“The worst case ever.”
“Why didn’t you jerk off?”
“I never jerk off. Someone walked in on me once when I was young and it ruined the whole practice for me.”
“You came here to get blown, didn’t you?”
“I came here… to apologize… and to get blown.”
We both laughed and it was like there had been no tension between us. We had an understanding and we were each safe from the other now. True equality. Or perhaps, not quite.
“If this is going to continue,” I said, “I have some terms and conditions.”
He was listening as only a desperately horny man can, always hoping for he wants to hear.
“Once in a while, it will be me that taps your ass.”
“Agreed… but not today. I’m a bit sore down there. That one son of a bitch is really big.”
“Fair enough.”
I reached with both hands across the couch and unbuttoned Mr. Temple’s shirt, another loud one, but distinct from the one he wore in the afternoon. When Mr. Temple leaned forward, I slid the shirt off his shoulders and took in the scent of his body wash. Not surprisingly after his cum bath and after mowing the lawn, the older man had showered.
I stood and placed the shirt neatly at the top of the couch. I pulled my own shirt over my head before stepping out of my shorts and underwear a moment later. I beckoned to him to stand up and he let me pull his own shorts and boxers down, exposing his fully erect knob. I know he was expecting me to drop to my knees before his dick, to service him to his much-needed relief, but while we were all re-evaluating and resetting relationships today, I was going to make a point of making a few things clear in this one. I had some control and I intended to use it.
“Now, if you expect me to suck your cock, you’re going to have to kiss me first. You know, put me in the mood.”
“Kid, you’re a tease.”
He leaned forward and took me in an embrace while we locked lips. His tongue brutally explored my mouth. His hands wandered over my back as mine did over his. The hair growing on his shoulder blades turned me on and I liked to rub my palms over the fine hairs. Once in a while, one of us would lightly touch the other’s ass before going back up. Our erections touched, kissing in their own way.
After a few minutes, I leaned back, out of the embrace, and gently pushed my naked guest down onto the couch. Standing between his bare feet, I placed my palms on his shoulders and began to gently caress the hairy skin, first in circles and then in a line toward his pecs. I cupped his prodigious, hairy man-boobs in each hand, squeezing the breasts and chafing against the nipples, eliciting a slight moan from Mr. Temple. So it continued for a few moments more until I dropped to my knees before him. My hands fell to his large, hairy belly, which I scratched gently up and down with my nails. I leaned in and begin probing his belly button through the coarse curly hair that grew around it.
“Jeez, kid… I said you’re a tease, but it wasn’t a request.”
I laughed, letting my hands drop to his thighs, rubbing and kneading them. His erection strained out of his crotch toward me, but I was still intent on making him wait that out. My hands slipped to his knees and I made as if to lean in and take his cock in my mouth, but at the last second, I turned and began lapping alternately at the inside of one leg and then the other. He groaned, but with pleasure or frustration, or both, I wasn’t sure. I considered carrying on down to his feet but I thought the point was made. He needed me for relief, and he would have it only when I gave it. If he didn’t like it, he could try his luck at Mary’s door.
“Okay, big boy, I want to suck your cock.”
“Yes, please.”
“Oh? You want me to? A man half your age or less?”
“Oh, yes, please. Please suck me.”
I licked a pearl of pre-cum off the tip of his cock.
“What will you do for me if I suck you off?”
“I’ll blow you.”
“Well, you’ll have to do better than this afternoon.”
“I’m sorry. I was distracted–all the dick in my ass.”
“There’s no dick in your ass tonight.”
“That’s right. I’ll do better. Please blow me.”
“How do I know you won’t change your mind? Maybe I should have you blow me first.”
“Oh, but I need to come so bad.”
“You’d do anything to come, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, anything.”
“Blow me.”
Mr. Temple clicked his tongue, a sound of frustration perhaps. He stood up and let me sit down and then he knelt between my legs.
“Are you sure you want to? I want to hear it.”
“I want to.”
“Want to what?”
“Suck you. I want to blow you. Please let me blow you. I need to get off so badly.”
“Okay,” I said, and I lay back on the couch with my eyes facing the ceiling as the older man went to town on my dick. He worked hard, jacking me with one hand and pinching my nipple with the other. His mouth never stopped, his tongue rotating and showing all sorts of promise that it had not offered earlier that afternoon. After a few minutes of this intensity, I began to feel the familiar alignment of my testicles as they tightened and prepared to shoot a load.
“Oh, Gus, I’m going to come.” It was the first time I ever used Mr. Temple’s first name.
He carried on sucking me as my sperm crashed against his tongue, his taste buds and his tonsils before sliding down his throat. He worked me until I was dry and then he almost forced me to my feet. He took the seat again and I didn’t tease him anymore, but worked him hard with my hand and mouth. It took just over one minute for him to explode and I had never swallowed an ejaculation like that before. It was enormous. At one point, I choked and semen came out of my nose.
“Wow,” I said when my throat was clear. “That was a lot of cum.”
“I have more to give,” he said, rising to his feet and surprising me by swooping down and picking me up like a damsel in distress. He planted a wet kiss on my lips and carried me to the bedroom. He fucked me face-to-face, pressing me hard into the mattress, forcing the cum out of me again before he blew his load up my arse. He collapsed on top of me with his full weight, his softening cock slipping out of my ass while my own wet hard-on pressed against his lower belly.
Within minutes, the older man’s breathing became deep and regular and it was clear he’d fallen asleep on top of me. I rubbed his back with my palms, enjoying the feeling of those soft hairs that grew on his shoulders. After half-an-hour or so, he woke up, kissed me hard on the mouth and rose up to get dressed. It seemed his wife would be missing him if he wasn’t home soon, but I talked him into having another beer with me before putting his clothes back on.
After all, I still had a hard-on…