Ben, Robert and Ian previously appeared in "Ben is Kept Under Control".
It was late in the afternoon on a cold and wet Sunday in Toronto in October 1974 and I'd spent a dreary day doing backed-up laundry and cleaning my apartment when the phone rang. When I heard the voice on the line my mood instantly changed for the better.
It was Robert calling from London; a leather top who was the subject of my regular jerk-off sessions ever since I'd met him earlier in the year. He'd stayed on my mind and in my dreams because I was a twenty- four-year old submissive boy who got off on being dominated by older men, especially one who was tall, dark and handsome with a well-muscled body and a big cock.
We'd met when he'd stayed with my friend Carlo, who knew him from playing around together in the "Swinging London" of the Nineteen-Sixties. When Carlo heard Robert would be visiting for a couple of weeks, he promised to find him a submissive boy to use while in town.
Carlo and I had been an item earlier that winter, so he thought of me, aware of Robert's preference for tall, thin, dark haired, smooth young men. I was brown haired and blue-eyed, with a skinny 160 pounds on a six-foot tall frame, very little body hair other than around my groin, a plump fuckable bum and an average sized dick that was no rival to Robert's real big one.
Robert had liked me well enough that he spent a couple of weekends tying me up, spanking and caning me, letting me suck his dick and drink his piss and fucking me again and again. I'd jerked off so many times thinking about him since then that I could hardly believe what he was telling me.
He and his partner Ian planned to celebrate their fifteenth anniversary as a couple with a holiday in New York City in early November and the hotel room they'd booked was big enough for three; so he wanted me to get off work and join them for a long weekend. When I didn't answer for a moment, since this was coming completely out of the blue and my mind was reeling, he mistook the reason for my hesitation.
"This was my idea, Ben, but don't worry, Ian's OK with you being around. You're the kind of submissive boy we both love playing with, plus you won't be the only one. We'll be doing a lot more than just sight-seeing while we're in New York."
All I had to do was get there and then they'd be picking up the tab, which meant I'd be their rent boy for the weekend. But what the heck; I'd let older men pick up the cheque at restaurants before and paid them back with sex. This time, other than the cost of a bus ticket, I was getting a free vacation in the Big Apple! I could swallow my pride as easily as their dicks if it got me a trip to New York!
Even though I wasn't sure how enthusiastic Ian might be about the idea, I agreed immediately and promised to be there on the first Friday in November.
First thing Monday morning, I asked for the time off from my boss and went to the bus station on my lunch hour to look up ticket prices and schedules, When I called them back that night. Robert gave the name of their hotel on Washington Square and then Ian came on the line. He told me to pack lightly; just a pair of leather pants and a leather shirt, a couple jockstraps and a toothbrush. That and the clothes on my back would be all I'd need, since I was going to naked most of the time anyway!
Four p.m. on the first Thursday in November, I boarded the Greyhound to New York City, scheduled to arrive at six am the next morning at Port Authority Bus Terminal on Eighth Avenue. I got some sleep after we crossed the border at Buffalo, but after being woken up at the Albany bus station I stayed awake for the rest of the night, aware of the hard-on in my jeans caused by thoughts of the upcoming weekend.
The bus was on time at Port Authority and I stepped, eager to enjoy my first day in the Big Apple. I'd told the guys that I wanted to do some sight-seeing before getting to their hotel at midday, which was fine by them since they were enjoying the luxury of sleeping-in late on their vacation.
Before doing anything else, I had to find a bathroom, since I hated bus toilets and as I crossed the concourse looking for one, I caught sight of my first real-life New York leather man! He was a slim, brown-eyed guy in his late thirties, about my height, with a dark curly bead and full head of black hair, wearing black leather pants, a denim shirt with a black leather tie, engineer boots and a leather biker jacket.
All that was exciting enough but my eyes focused in on the impressive bulge in the front of his pants. My stare must have been so obvious that when I looked up into his face, he stopped talking to the guy he was with and winked at me, making me blush at being caught out.
Looking quickly away, I concentrated on the matter at hand and headed straight for the washrooms. I spent a few successful minutes in a stall before going over to the sink to wash my hands. Feeling grungy from sitting on an over-heated bus for twelve hours, I pulled off my t-shirt and threw some soapy water at my chest and under my arms. As I stood drying myself on the roller towel, I realised that the same leather man I'd cruised a few minutes ago, was standing at a urinal, leering at me with a big, half-hard dick in his hand.
This was crazy; it was six-thirty in the morning, I'd been in New York City for all of fifteen minutes and already some random guy was waving his dick at me! But it looked like a very nice dick and he was exactly my kind of hot older man and there was no one else around at that moment. I didn't put my shirt back on as I turned towards him with a questioning look. He nodded at me and walked over to an empty stall without bothering to tuck his dick away; he was asking for a blow job and I was so sexed-up that I was going to give him one.
But suddenly. out of the corner of my eye I saw a security guard heading in our direction and I panicked. At Robert's insistence, I was in my regular outfit for going out to the bars; worn Levi 501's, tight white t-shirt, black leather biker jacket and boots. It was OK for late nights in gay town, but under the cold fluorescent light of a bus station bathroom I knew I must look like nothing less than a gay hustler on the game.
Did this hot leather man really want a blow job or was he a decoy in one of the police department's daily fag-catching set-ups? Like most gay men in those days I knew all about the so-called "Vice squads" or "Morality Bureaus" in very big city police department that regularly entrapped homosexuals and the NYPD's reputation as the nation's leader in that dirty business.
I turned away immediately, picked up my backpack, pulled my shirt and jacket back on and ran out of the bathroom and out of the Terminal, without looking back.
By the time I was standing on the corner of Eighth Avenue and 42nd Street, I'd calmed down and got over my panic. Now that my heart had stopped thumping and my breathing had got back to normal, I pulled out the Manhattan street map I'd bought in Toronto and began to follow the route I'd drawn on it, which led from the Bus Terminal to the guys' hotel on Washington Square.
