Pet Sitting
Pet Rescue
A Short Leash
Rude Mechanicals Exotic Pets
Catch and Release
A Secret Vice
Samhain

Sol Invictus
Saturnalia
Teacher's Pet
Let the Games Begin
Epithalamion
Deeper Submission
Attitude Adjustments

But I do go to Dilly’s. When I reach for my wallet, I find twink has slipped a pack of condoms in my jacket. He’s a sweet little shit. Before I even finish my scotch, some pushy bottom approaches me. Frankly, any boy who’d be that forward is not going to get anywhere with me. I kick myself mentally. There’s a productive approach, John. You are meant to at least try to find someone new.

I look around. There’s a cute kid playing pool. He gives me a shy look from underneath a spectacular set of eyelashes. He makes sure his next shot shows me his ass. I catch his gaze just long enough, and leave. I dawdle checking my Harley, and sure enough the kid is there as I swing into the saddle.

“Need a ride home?”

He climbs on without a word, and taps left or right to guide me and we end up at his apartment with no trouble.

It’s a scruffy little studio. I frown at the mess, but I’m just here for some fun, not to train him. He stands in position in front of me, and bows his head. He’s dark-haired like Rob, but not pale. He’s got a Mediterranean look. I flip his shirt collar with my forefinger.

“No fancy stripping. Just get naked.”

He undresses without hesitation, and folds his clothes neatly. I’m surprised; given the state of his room, I thought he’d toss them aside. Perhaps he only has discipline while in scene. I must be out of practice with this desire thing: I’m looking at how he’s folded his clothes, not at him. I give him an appraising toe to head sweep of my gaze. Damn, okay, the desire thing is still here.

He’s beautiful. Golden skin -- not a tan, it’s his natural shade -- toned but not pumped body. Flat nipples, round ass, and, ah, he’s uncut. And a nice bruise on his ass to show he knows what he’s getting into. It looks about a week old to me. I point, and raise my eyebrow. He just grins.

I consider how to place a matching bruise on his other cheek to pay for his sass. I can tell he wants to shuffle, but I leave him standing naked while I stroll into the kitchen for a glass of water. Damn, his place is disgusting. I’ll have my work cut out here. Wait. Wait. He’s a quickie.

I look him up and down again. It’s been a while since I just played.

“Safe word?”

“Banana, sir.”

I sigh. Okay, so you don’t want a word that’ll normally come up or that is too hard to remember. But, banana? I guess I do take life too seriously, but frivolous words for a scene annoy me. Oh well, he’s not my boy.

I repeat it back to show I heard him, and then point to the ground. He kneels and then carries on down to rest on his elbows with his ass in the air. He likes the leather daddy stuff I guess because he’s licking my boots. But I didn’t tell him to do it so I step back, and snarl.

“You don’t act without instructions, boy.”

He shivers, and I see him settle into more into the role.


From Sol Invictus

I feel a wave of grief as I remember my last good Christmas.  Rob and I in a rented room. Mac-and-cheese for Christmas dinner.  A single Satsuma segment by segment for dessert.  We’d spent all our money on my textbooks for next quarter and mailing presents to Rob’s family.  He’d still hoped right through Christmas morning that they’d call and say, “come for Christmas, son.”  They were only forty miles away.  I’d made sure to have my Christmas call to mom while Rob showered.

He was a good boy though even when he was sad and disappointed.  He’d giggled as we teased each other with orange pieces, and then placed the orange peel to dry on the window sill so we could sniff at it.  I’d bought him a big sketch pad and a box of pencils.  I had to slap his ass when he burst into tears at the sight of them.  He was snorting and gasping something silly about how did I know and dad said art was faggy and he didn’t have anything for me and he thought he wasn’t allowed to and…

I’d held him close, said I’d seen him drawing on scraps while I studied, his father was a dick, how can a possession give anything to its owner, and if I ever caught him thinking he wasn’t allowed to use his talents, I’d skin his butt.

His tears turned to giggles at my threat, and we’d spent the afternoon fucking and being enough for each other.  I can still smell the orange peel and hear his sweet cries of: sir, hurts, sir, I love you.