Ted is repulsed and excited, disgusted and thrilled. Torn between fear and desire. He wants to throw the photos in Larry’s face and run from the room. He wants to get down on his hands and knees and crawl between Larry’s legs and beg to suck his big dick. Ted is paralyzed, unable to move. Larry decides for him.
“Shit. Telling that story’s got me hot. Got my dick all big and stiff in my pants. I bet you’d like to see it, wouldn’t you, cocksucker?”
Ted moves his mouth, trying to answer, but nothing comes out.
Larry doesn’t wait for an answer. “Stand up. Get out of that chair and get your ass over here.” Larry settles back, edging his chair away from the table, leaning back and crossing his hands behind his neck.
Ted moves in slow motion. The air in the room seems thick as molasses. Finally he stands before Larry, fists clenched at his sides, breathing hard, staring down at Larry’s crotch. “Take off your clothes, cocksucker.”
Ted tries to pull his T-shirt out of his shorts, but his fingers are like putty, stiff and awkward.
“Come on, you shy or something? It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked, plenty of times. Yeah, don’t think I didn’t know. You think last night was the first time I caught you watching me, drooling out your window and playing with yourself? You’ve been doing it for months. So now it’s my turn. Turnabout’s fair play, huh, faggot? Show me what you got.”
Ted blushes as he peels the shirt up to his neck and over his shoulders. His naked chest burns as hot as his face. His nipples tingle and tighten, drawing up stiff and erect.
He swallows hard and undoes the clasp of his loose, baggy shorts, feels them slide down his legs and pool around his ankles.
He glances down at his crotch. His cock is hard as a bone inside his underwear, impossible to hide; a peanut compared to the bulge in Larry’s pants. He takes a shallow breath and bends over, slipping the underwear down his thighs, feeling his cock snap up against his belly, feeling the cool, refrigerated air of the room on his naked ass. For a moment he stays like that, bent double with his ass in the air, staring at the tops of Larry’s boots, feeling somehow hidden and safe. Then he slowly straightens up, exposing himself to Larry’s stare.
For a long moment Larry just sits in the chair and looks at him. Watching Ted’s chest rise and fall, unable to catch a breath. Watching his hard cock bobbing and twitching in time with his heartbeat. Ted glances into his eyes for instant, then looks away. Larry’s eyes give back nothing—no approval, no desire, not even curiosity.
Ted suddenly feels ridiculous, ashamed of his nudity. His body is still a boy’s body, shapeless and soft in the places where Larry bulges with muscle, small and stunted in the parts where Larry is so big and hard. He’s embarrassed to have Larry see his cock, such a tiny, useless thing compared to the truncheon of meat between Larry’s legs. What pleasure could Larry have in looking at his naked body, when Larry is so perfect and Ted is so plain?
Of course Ted knows why Larry is interested in him. Because Ted is a cocksucker and a faggot. Because Ted has a tight ass and a cock-hungry mouth, two holes that Larry can use any way he wants to make his big dick feel good.
Larry gets up from the chair and slowly circles him. Ted can hear the click of his boots against the hard tile floor. He imagines he can feel a touch on his ass and flinches, then realizes it’s only his imagination, raising goose bumps on his flesh. Larry’s voice is warm and moist in his ear.
“Seems to me I told you a while back to start calling me
sir.
Seems to me you haven’t been doing what I told you to. Seems to me you’ve been a bad little faggot. What do you say, Teddy boy—you been a bad little faggot?”
Ted screws up his face and pouts his lips. “Yes. Yes, sir.”
“That’s right. Cocksuckers who wanna see my big dick call me
sir.
You still wanna see my dick, Teddyboy? Maybe touch it with your tongue, huh? Maybe hold it in your mouth? Find out if your jaw can open wide enough for me to cram the whole fucking thing down your throat?”
The room is spinning. “Yes, sir.”
“Then I’m gonna have to punish you first.” Larry steps in front of him, reaches over, and takes the paddle from the wall. Plants his booted feet far apart. Grabs the zipper at his fly and slowly pulls it down. The zipper reaches bottom, Larry wiggles his hips, and the big cock comes tumbling out.
Ted sucks in his breath. He had thought that Larry’s cock was already fully hard, but that was only an illusion, because of the size. Fully stiff, the tight jeans could never have accommodated it. It hangs from the fly of Larry’s pants, not hard but not soft either; plump and rubbery, drooping slightly, thick as a cucumber.
Larry stands before him. Chest glazed with a thin sheen of perspiration. Arms at his sides, the paddle dangling from his right hand. His fly undone, his cock exposed, his open jeans clinging tight to the big muscles of his ass and thighs.
He catches Ted staring at his dick. “What do you say, cocksucker? You think it’s worth twenty big ones from the paddle?”
Ted shudders. His hands latch on to his thighs, digging in with his fingernails to try to stop the shaking. His voice breaks, starting with a croak and ending in a whine. “Yes, sir.”
Larry nods, slapping the paddle against the palm of his hand. His eyes rake over the nude body before him, as if searching for a suitable target. Then, without warning, the paddle comes down, slamming the tip of Ted’s hard cock.
“Just to show you what I think of your little weenie, cocksucker,” Larry mutters. “Just so you don’t get any ideas.”
Ted gasps and bends forward, clutching his thighs. Tears well up in his eyes and run down his cheeks. His cock bobs and twitches in the air. A glob of semen squirts from the tip and lands on the floor with a splat. Almost coming, but not quite. He tightens every muscle, desperately holding back. Not yet. Not yet—
And then the phone rings. Ted can hear it vaguely through the pounding in his temples, jangling softly in another room.
Larry ignores it for a moment. He looks down at the glob of semen at his feet. “I’ll make you clean that up later, Teddy boy. With your tongue. While I’m fucking your ass.”
Ted quivers. His cock throbs from the pain of the blow, his knees are wobbly from almost coming. Larry steps toward him and he flinches, expecting another blow. Instead, Larry hangs the paddle on his hard cock, using it like a peg; not looping the strap against the base of his cock, but hooking it just behind the ridge of the head. The paddle is heavy, but Ted’s cock is so hard it refuses to bend.
“You stay just like that, cocksucker. I’ll take care of you when I get back. And don’t drop the paddle—unless you want me to get out the cattle prod.”
And Larry leaves him like that—standing nude and erect at attention in the center of the room, with the paddle hanging from the head of his dick. Leaves him to answer the phone in the bedroom. Puts him in his place—not even important enough to let the phone call pass.
The bedroom door is half shut. From the corner of his eye Ted can catch only a glimpse of Larry seated in a chair by the bed, the phone raised to his ear. He strains to listen.
“Gary—hey man, how you doing?…Busy? Maybe. Got a cocksucker waiting in the other room—No, I’m not kidding you. Faggot neighbor of mine, I’ve told you about him—the peeping Tom—
“Naked with a hard-on. I was just about to start paddling his ass—Sure, come on over. Be like old times—we’ll get out the cattle prod…”
Ted catches his breath. Gooseflesh runs up his spine. He leans back and peers into the bedroom, unable to see Larry’s face. Spins his head around and stares at the door to the stairway.
Now or never, while Larry is still on the phone. He could grab his shorts and pull them up, scoop his shirt off the floor, make a run for the door. Leave and never come back.
Then he hears a soft ping. The click of the thermostat. The whole room seems to sigh as the air-conditioning comes on. The sudden change in pressure is just enough to push the bedroom door open another inch or two. Just enough to bring Larry’s face into view, along with Larry’s cock.
Larry looks up. Sees him. And goes about his business, holding the phone to his ear in one hand, slowly stroking his cock with the other. Fully hard now. A club of naked flesh jutting up from his hips, glistening with spit. Larger than life, thicker than his stroking hand can encircle. Larry looks him in the eye and smirks—and the decision is made.
Ted can’t stop himself. He doesn’t try. Keeping his eyes on Larry’s cock, he slowly drops to his knees, careful not to drop the paddle. He falls forward onto his hands and begins to crawl. He has to shuffle, his feet hobbled by his shorts. The paddle pulls against the head of his dick, knocks against his legs. It rattles against the tile floor, then falls silent as he crosses the threshold and crawls across the plush carpet toward Larry’s waiting dick. Larry speaks—“Yeah, see you here in fifteen minutes”—then hangs up the phone.
Ted crawls. Closer and closer, until the big cock is only inches from his face. Larry tilts it down, aiming it toward his lips.
Ted opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, touches it against the smooth, blunt tip. Opens wider—how wide will he have to open for Larry to cram the whole thing down his throat? He presses his lips against the crown, giving it a kiss. He groans and shuts his eyes—
And suddenly finds himself knocked to his side on the floor, his ears ringing.
“I told you to stay in the other room, cocksucker. You’re really asking for it, aren’t you? Looks like I’m gonna have to use the prod on you after all. But we’ll wait for Gary to get here first. Meantime, you can hand me that paddle. That’s it. Yeah, stay down there on your hands and knees like a good little cocksucker. Now turn around and show me that butt. Yeah, stick that faggot butt way up, Teddy boy, aim that asshole toward my dick. But you’re not getting it yet. First you’re getting twenty big ones. Queerboy. Peeping Tom. Motherfucker. Yeah, your punishment’s way overdue…”
*
Ted’s stuffy little apartment in the attic of the boarding house is empty. No peeping Tom by the window, peering into Larry’s bedroom. No one to witness the spectacle that unfolds in the rooms of Larry’s plush, air-conditioned condo across the way.
If there were a watcher, he would see a show that outstrips all the wildest fantasies that clouded Ted’s brain on all the nights he crouched here, naked and alone with a dildo up his ass and his dick in his fist, his nose pressed against the window screen, watching Larry in secret and beating his meat.
He would see two young men in their mid-twenties, clean-cut, broad-shouldered and stacked with muscle, stripped down to their jeans and boots with big cocks jutting from their open flies—
and a third figure, boyish and naked, with longer hair on his head but no hair at all between his legs, his crotch shaved bald. Teddy boy, nude and glistening with sweat. Clothespins on his nipples, his hands held obediently behind his back while they use him for a punching bag—bending over and clutching his ankles while they take turns blistering his naked ass with the paddle…
Down on his hands and knees, cantering from room to room while one of them takes a ride on his back and the other follows behind, kicking his ass…
Stretched across the butcher block table, his head and ass dangling over the edges, plugged with dick at both ends—crouching on Larry’s bed, his ass raised high—reaching back to pull his cheeks apart while Larry pokes the cattle prod into the crack of his ass, and Gary crams his big cock down Teddy’s throat to muffle the screams…
The show continues as twilight falls, and goes on long into the night. Ted would have given his right arm to watch such a spectacle, kneeling by the window, furtively masturbating in the safety of his room. But the room remains empty, eyeless, blind. Ted is not there to see it. Ted is Teddy boy now, a toy for the Gods.
Daddy’s Boys
Nic P. Ramsies
It was three days until his rent was due and Kevin was $500 short. He thought about asking one of his roommates to front him the cash, but they weren’t too happy with him and he was pretty sure that would be the last straw. He also thought about going to the Fenway where on the paths in the neatly manicured community gardens gay men, married bisexuals, closeted guys, and those in denial for many reasons hooked up for fun or pay, or both. In the tall reeds that lined the garden and bordered the winding river, a blowjob could net him $20 each. He did the math: twenty-five blowjobs or eight a night and he could have rent. But he ruled the idea out. It wasn’t that he minded giving so many; he hated that awkward moment that happened every seven or so guys when the john, some desperate man or some married guy, usually wanted to start a conversation or exchange numbers. And frankly, spending three nights in the Fenway despite how much he liked to suck cock seemed unbearable. There had to be a quicker, more interesting way for him to make $500.
He’d been lazy this month, spending too much time and money taking the ferry to P-town, hanging out at bars, buying drinks and fancy dinners instead of working the streets or play parties. He’d lost track of how much cash he had left. He’d been at Copley Square ready to go out for the night yet again for fun not work when he went to the ATM and got the shocking news that he was out of cash.
He shook his head at his foolishness. He was smarter than this. Then he remembered the guy he’d met two nights before in P-town, Steve. Steve was a street boy like Kevin, only he had a great setup with a Daddy who paid him to work fancy parties in his big house in Arlington, outside Boston. Kevin had taken Steve’s number but hadn’t planned on calling. Steve had been a lot of fun and had told Kevin his Daddy would hire him in a second. But Kevin hated the idea of anyone owning him—for more than fifteen minutes, anyway. The thought of Steve’s Daddy’s cash made Kevin sort through the pile of discarded numbers written on slips of paper napkins and mixed in with grocery and to-do lists next to his bed.