The Price Of Dick (11 page)

I ventured a hand to his waist. It felt small and lean and taut. He liked the sensation of my hand on him there.

“It’s how I made captain of the team. He thought I was special. I didn’t mind and it was easy. And my family was proud that I was chosen to be captain. My mom was proud of my accomplishment. Her son’s achievements filled photo albums and scrapbooks. She has trophies to dust off and show to her friends.”

I listened without a response. It wasn
’t my story to respond to.

He grabbed both my hands and put them on the cheeks of his ass. Water swirled between my fingers.

“Isn’t it amazing how this thing between our legs can change our lives? Change others’ lives. Give us what we want. Give others what they want. Shape the way we think and feel. It can make us great, or weak. Turn us into criminals with jealousy.” His mouth found my other ear to whisper. “Our dicks change the very world we live in.”

I was so turned on it was beginning to get painful
; that too tight pull in the scrotum.

“
We can make other people do anything we want if they want that something special from us. Good or bad. So, I made captain of the team because the coach wanted to jack my junk.” He bent deeper into me. “And with you, it’s friendship.”

He
’d set the parameters of our little adventure firmly in place. Between friends. We were sharing ourselves with each other. No emotional attachments.

We dried,
found our way between the sheets of the bed. I was in the role of the teacher; he the student. He responded to my directions. My kisses came first. He responded. His customary aggression was nowhere in sight. It was empowering to have that behemoth of a man under my control.

I swal
lowed to work up spit before I took his cock in my hand and inserted the plump head in and sucked on it. I could taste the residue of soap from the shower. I pulled on it harder until I drew another inch of it in. There was a long, windy exclamation. I looked, found him staring at me with a smile. My eyes locked with his as I continued down his thickness; my nose pressing firm into his curlies. A knee and moan sprung up in response. Balled fists unclenched, balled again. I kept myself down on him deep, pulling in vacuum hard. His balls crawled up the sides, tapping my chin. I released him and he fell flat, free of tension.

I pushed both his knees upright so his feet were beside my head. I could see the
avalanche of blond hair down the curves of his hamstrings. The rounded “W” of his buttocks peeked beneath the drape of his balls. There was just the barest glimpse of my target between those cheeks in the thick brush of curly hair. It puckered as if it knew I lusted for it. His eyes never left me, head propped up on pillows, the hammer of his chin dug into his chest.

I wanted him. I was going to take him.

“Turn over,” I said, my voice forceful and foreign.

He did as I commanded, quickly, cheeks bouncing. I hiked his hips up, grabbed his dick
, pulled it backwards through his legs so it could lie between them on the bed for easy stroke access. Veins popped thickly on its underskirt of circumcised flesh.

Holding temptation at bay was no longer possible. I separated the full meat of his ass
cheeks with my thumbs, worked the knot of fur aside. I bent into it and with pointed tongue had my first taste of a virgin butt. He jerked under my grip as if surprised by the feeling. I held him down and persisted, pushing past the elastic resistance until the first buds of my tongue knew what the inside of him tasted like. It was sweet and metallic-clean. He squirmed for an escape I wouldn’t permit. I pushed at the small of his back, pinning his stomach tight to the bed so I could angle my nose in deeper, squeeze my tongue in to the secret, hot space. He was salty with sweat, writhing like a man losing charge.

Burrowing his head
into the pillows, he stifled strange noises. Large fingers clawed the sheets, pulling them free from the mattress, bunching them at his sides. Misworded expletives were muffled by a bitten pillow as I made a wet trail down his balls to the tip of his dick. There was a creamy sheen beneath this trail. Molten manhood.

“
What the fuck are you doing to me?” His voice had changed octaves. It resonated something plaintive; pleading.

I pushed him back down hard. My hands held his cheeks wide so I could lap at every hidden inch of him.

“That’s crazy as shit man. I feel like I’m losing my grip. It’s doing strange shit to me.”

That
’s the idea, I thought. “Relax your muscles. Hold yourself open for me.”

He reached back and did as I asked. I could see the nerves ripple through the flesh of his ass. He still wasn
’t relaxing. I rubbed my thumb gently in small circles against the hole, now slick with spit.

Moistening my finger
more, I pushed it into him. Again he tightened, yelped. In a calm voice I instructed him again to relax. I could sense he was trying, but his body was in anticipation mode. Every limb was wound with stiffened muscle. I would have to be assertive. So I pushed my finger in. The heat inside him was radiator hot. He tried to crawl off, away from the pain. I held him down with my other hand and kept the depth constant with my finger. The hole felt small, unyielding, barely allowing my finger in. I worried that I wouldn’t get enough play to squeeze my fully erect dick inside.

My own need was boiling. I knew I had to get inside him.
Soon.

The sheepskin condom rolled down on me as silk
y as cream. I watched as I ballooned inside it. I was more than ready.

“
I don’t know if I can do this,” he sounded unsteady as he watched me prepare. He wore the fear of the damned.

“
You can do it,” I said with confidence. “I’ve done it. You just have to kick back, let it happen and enjoy it.”

He made a miserable sound of resignation.
“Okay, fuck! I’ll try. But it hurts like a motherfucker. You got to promise me you’ll go slow and if I say pull out, you will!”

Then he did something I thought I
’d never see a grown man do: he made a fist and bit it as he lay his head back down and leveraged his hips up for me.

“
Okay. Trust me and just breathe.”

I had the tip against the tight entrance, tapped it several times as a test,
then finally exerted a some force that let me penetrate him. His back rose high and fell as his head went flat into his pillow to squelch the scream. Sweat popped from the pores on his back between his shoulders. He made noises of suffering. I pushed deeper.

His head
spun up. “This is not fun!” he bellowed, then fell back into his cushioned protection.

“
It’s just because you’re a virgin,” I said. “It gets better.”

“
I’m trying,” he whimpered. “But your dick is stabbing my ass! Do you understand that?”

I was sympathetic, but determined. I
’d been in his place. I’d made it through. I’d learned to enjoy it. My pump was slow and methodical. His head rolled back and forth in its nest of pillows, noises coming from either side as I got deeper inside him. It was difficult to keep his cheeks pulled apart. His sweat made them slick. Their mass was almost a barricade. I held him firmly in place sparing him a slip out and the agony of re-penetration. He was excruciatingly tight. There was no doubt he’d never had anything bigger than his own fingers inside himself. The circumference and shape of a penis was something unique to conform to. It reached a depth that would set off jagged snaps of electricity in every limb of the body. He was seeing and feeling those sparks for the first time.

“You gotta talk me through this. Talk me through.” He was begging but not giving up. A good sign.

I looked down as I
disappeared deep inside him. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Cock deep in a real man’s ass. Watching it quake and twitch under full-length thrusts.

“
When I first saw you I thought you looked like a god,” I told him. I slowly retracted, pushed again. “I remembered those beautiful pictures of the heroes from
The Iliad
and
The Odyssey
by Homer we had in grade school. It was the first time I saw pictures, even though they were drawn, of naked men, and knew I was attracted to them.”

He groaned again
, head lobbing to the opposite side of the pillow. I saw creases in his forehead. His mouth wrinkled into his cheek as he chewed the sheet. It was wet with saliva.

“
And then you walked into the gym that day and it was like one of those heroes stepped off those pages and was right in front of me. In all his glory. Your glory.”

I kept my thrusts
full. It would be the only way he could adjust to the whole thing. “I saw the way other people looked at you too. They were seeing the same thing. The same fantasy. The girls were probably seeing their Prince Charming. The man of their dreams. Their savior who would kiss them, or glass slipper them into happily ever after.”

I felt his body unraveling slowly beneath me.
“Really?”

I pushed in deep. He rose high again, but no sounds of protest.
“You’re like everything we’re all looking for but can never have. We all settle: for what we think is the best we can have, or all that we can get. But we always look to people like you; our gods, what we want, but totally unattainable.”

He was gradually responding to my thrusts with his own tentative rhythm. I had to control my breath to talk. Every thrust brought my climax closer. I could feel my control over it slipping
away from me.

“
Looking at you, we can take our dreams to bed and masturbate to them; be jealous of the people who actually get you. Wonder what it’s like to have you. To feel what your skin feels like. To experience your nakedness as if you desired us just as much.”

He had grabbed himself from beneath and stroked as I continued in slow motion. I could feel each movement bring me nearer
to orgasm.

“
I look down right now and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Watching my cock slipping in and out of you. I keep thinking it’s not real. It can’t be actually happening. It’s too beautiful. I’ve never been with anyone so gorgeous; so desirable. I’m afraid to come because I don’t want it to end.”

I heard the words coming from my mouth
, realizing I was spilling truths I didn’t even know were inside me. The words had begun as complimentary placations meant to relax, but had turned into my own sexual confessional. He was privileged to what should have been secrets. The unexpressed ramblings we all have in our heads that are never spoken because vanity and our sense of self-protection would never allow us to give someone else so much power. I was giving it to him because of what he was giving to me.

He moved in response to me now.
“That’s starting to feel good. Really good. Go ahead. You can go deeper.” His legs spread wider. I sank deeper. He made a noise of enjoyment. Finally. I could feel the firebrand of flesh pushed up against my thigh as he pulled at himself in tempo.

“
What’s it feel like? To be in me?” his voice sounded distant, blissful.

The rest of the truth was easy.
“Like heaven,” I replied.

Our pace quickened together.
Words gargled from his mouth. I couldn’t understand. “What?” My hips were pounding faster against him.

“
Coming!” The word burst from him. “I’m coming!”

I didn
’t have to see it to feel the fluid pulsing out of him onto the bed. He fought beneath me violently like someone trapped, trying to break free. His climax clenched, held me firm, immovable inside him. It pulled my own from me. My brain disappeared into a spectral glow of sensation. The flow from me felt endless. The condom filled and threatened to lose itself from me with its weight inside him. I lay suddenly still in our messes. I battled to stay conscious.

That
’s what fantasies were like. Like fainting.

For months
afterward I dreamt of that night. I’d spotlighted it in my memory as a pivotal moment in my life; a highlight, giving him the importance he wanted. The larger than life fantasy essentially blurred any clear vision I’d have of him. My guard was down; the gates were open.

I
’m the first to admit the photo shoots became better because of him. Without his presence I wouldn’t have turned out such poignant art with the air of real romance that I’d become known for. His face would never be seen in a single photo I sold, but his handprint was all over my work. He had a knack for making every model excited to be there and comfortable in front of the camera. Whether he was in the shot himself, or helped those that were, his charm made the work easy on both ends. He got things out of these guys I knew I never could. Magazines began picking up my work, and as the gay romance genre grew, my photos began to grace cover after cover. I was gradually establishing myself as a respected name in the industry. Borrowing the cliché, we fit hand in glove. Model and photographer.

He had just enough of that devilish panache, the ability to polish the forbidden fruit and dangle it in front of these guys to get what he wanted from them. Gay or straight by claim, he could talk them into any of his sexual games after the
main photo session. His artfulness was in his ability to convince anyone that he was, indeed, straight, but gay
only
for them. Everyone believed they were getting a piece of something no one else was capable of getting. He made them feel special. As he had me. They believed that they were having a once in a lifetime experience. Gay models experienced their seventh heaven. Straight by claim guys got to satisfy their bi-curiosities with someone like themselves. He could make people believe anything. Everyone won. What a team, he and I.

So it was
, when he approached me about incorporating the business and making us partners, I found the idea exciting and accepted it with no reservations. It would bind us together in another way. He knew all the legal terms, and tax benefits and could take care of those once we secured a mutual bank account in the company’s name. We called it Pegasus after the flying horse in his favorite Harry Hamlin movie,
Clash of The Titans
. He said it would symbolize how the company would soar into the skies. He would handle all the financial affairs of the company. I wouldn’t have to worry about things I didn’t understand while my camera clicked away, making us money.

I believe anyone who starts a business with a partner does it with aspirations and highest hopes
for its success. He presented me with the picture of a long, rosy, fun-filled future together. I signed the papers without even reading them, without hesitation or a worry in the world that I was doing something that could turn bad on me. How easy my pen glided over those documents giving him access to everything I would ever earn.