Ben Is Ept Under Control

I'd spent a wonderful night of bondage, tit play, cock-sucking and piss play with a hot older man named Carlo, but had no way of getting in touch with him for a repeat session.

Since arriving in Toronto a few months previously I'd mostly spent my nights with gay guys my own age, drinking and dancing at places that we jokingly called "S and M bars" (i.e. "Standing and Modelling") then later on having vanilla sex with one of those young men. That night with Carlo had reminded me of how much I missed his kind of adventurous sex, but being so new to the city I didn't know how to find other men who'd do the same things to me as he'd done that night.

Amazingly, two months later and totally out of the blue, my wishes suddenly came true. I'd begun a new job in a downtown office building and on my lunch hour I went downstairs to check out the shops in the basement. As I passed the barber shop, I caught the eye of a man cutting hair; it was my hot stud Carlo! He smiled and beckoned me into the salon.

"It's Ben, right? Sit right down there, I'm almost finished with this gentleman and I'm not letting you away before I do something about that awful haircut of yours."

"Er, well, I only have an hour for lunch."

"That's more than enough time for me to fix that mess. Sit down there and I'll be right with you."

I couldn't believe it; the hot guy I'd been obsessing over for the last two months remembered my face and my name! After giving me a quick cut, he told his two employees he was going out for a quick coffee. They both smirked and I heard one say, "Be sure to bring him back in one piece." I walked out of there blushing like a schoolgirl.

As we sat drinking espressos, I told him how my friend David had reacted to "our sick shit". He shook his head sadly, then pleased me by telling me how much fun he'd also had that night. Just sitting there looking at him and listening to his voice gave me a hard-on, especially when he started telling me that ever since he worked in London a decade before, he'd noticed something about certain young Englishmen.

"You know, most Englishmen are hopeless bores in bed, though there's a big fraction of you that are crazy, kinky perverts. I don't know why: Protestant guilt, single-sex schools where the masters use any excuse to cane naughty boys on their naked bums, the dark, gloomy, rainy weather? Hey - why doesn't matter - it just means there was always another submissive WASPY boy just like you to play with."

I told him I'd been jerking off to the memory of that night ever since, which didn't surprise him. I could hardly believe my ears when I got an invite to his apartment for the next Saturday night, for the first of what became a series of BDSM sessions over the next few weeks.

I'd stupidly wasted months topping other young guys in vanilla sessions, when all I needed was some time with a guy like Carlo to show me where I belonged; down on my knees, or in bondage, having my tits worked over or my balls beaten, my arse caned or paddled and a hard dick shoved up my ass.

We had a lot of fun for a couple of months, but I knew all along that he wasn't the long-term relationship type and understood when I got replaced by the next new young sub. I was sorry when the sex ceased, but happy that we remained friends. He was still my barber after all and I became a regular guest at his Friday night dinner parties, where I tried to keep up with his older friends' smart conversation while helping him serve drinks and the meal.

I was usually the youngest guy in the room, but his outgoing friends went out of their way to welcome me and make me part of the group. I must have passed some sort of a test since I was the only one of his BDSM tricks who became a regular at those Friday night shindigs; I felt honoured to graduate from Bondage Boy to Dinner Party Twink!

He continued to invite me for dinner over the winter months and then one day in the early spring he ran out to speak to me when he saw me walking past his salon.

"Hey Ben, are you free next Friday night? I'm having people over to meet an old boyfriend of mine visiting from England. I think you two have a lot in common, apart from your sexy accents. Come on baby, say yes! John and Al will be there, and I know you much you like them."

I couldn't refuse one of his dinner invitations, and of course I was intrigued by this friend of his. I wondered what it was Carlo thought we had in common, but even so when I turned up at his Wellesley Street apartment that night, I didn't really expect anything out of the ordinary. I thought it would probably be a normal evening at his place; good food, plenty of Italian wine, juicy gossip and smart conversation.

However, when I walked in, I could see two strangers in the room, one of whom turned out to be Carlo's handsome straight nephew, Marco. Apparently, he was at loose ends with his girlfriend off on a college study trip to Europe for the whole month, and his parents away, so he'd decided to take up his uncle's long-standing offer of free dinner and drinks.

Marco was a gorgeous dreamboat about my age, whose parents had come to Canada from Sicily in the nineteen fifties. He shared his uncle's dark features and hunky build, so much so that he seemed to be a young, straight version of Carlo. After graduating from college, he was learning the trade by starting at the bottom of the ladder in his family's house-building business, and the daily construction work was giving him plenty of hot-looking muscle.

Even though he was three or four inches shorter than me, his tightly muscled, chunky body probably outweighed my skinny one by twenty pounds or more. The then-current fashion for tight designer jeans showed off a fabulous bum and a thick dick running down his skin-tight trouser leg. The other guests looked shell-shocked with lust!

I was aware of him as he moved about the room, but my attention centered on the other new face; Carlo's friend Robert, who'd flown in that day from England. He was an attractive, mature man of Carlo's age, a couple of inches taller than me at six foot two, and much more heavily built than I, with brown eyes, a black moustache and short cropped hair. I was handing out drinks when I walked over to him and introduced myself. He grinned and said he was glad to meet me, since he'd heard some very interesting stuff about me from Carlo.

That surprised me and I stood in front of him tongue-tied for what felt like minutes but was only a few seconds before he turned and asked Carlo if it was OK to take me out onto the apartment balcony to look out at the city by night.

"Of course, Robert, Ben's all yours. Do whatever you like with him," was Carlo's arch reply, accompanied by a knowing wink in my direction.

I put down the tray of drinks and followed Robert onto the balcony, where we leant over the wall staring out at the downtown towers. He peppered me with leading questions, quickly getting the short version of my life story out of me, including the reasons for emigrating to Canada. Given his brisk, no-nonsense manner, I wasn't surprised to hear that he was ex-Army, who now ran a successful business with a long-time partner/lover. Soon enough he confirmed where the conversation was going and made his intentions perfectly clear.

"Ian and I run our sex life as efficiently as our business and we hate screw-ups. It's the same when we play with boys; we're in charge and we expect them to understand that. Carlo tells me you're well behaved and since I know what Carlo likes, I take it you'll do exactly what you're told."

All I could do was nod and murmur a quiet "I will sir." He was exactly my kind of take-charge guy and his brisk English style triggered memories of the dominant older men who I was used to submitting to back there. I was also proud of the fact that this meant that out of the subs he knew, Carlo had chosen me to play with his old friend.

There was a short moment of silence between us and to fill the gap I nervously asked how long he and Carlo had been boyfriends back in England. He laughed and said they'd only been "sort-of boyfriends."

"We discovered the night we met that we liked to do the same things, just not to each other, so we worked together on other people instead. That's the same as Ian and I do, except that in the past few years we've been so busy with the business and life in general that we've stopped having fun.

"That's part of the reason for this holiday. I'd been wanting to get back into the swing of things, so when Carlo invited me over, I asked him if he could find a boy to play with while I'm here. When he told me about some tall skinny lad called Tit-boy I was pretty sure you'd do."

While we talked, we'd been leaning over the balcony wall, looking out at the downtown view, and soon I felt him gradually edge closer to me until his body was touching mine. His fingers felt around below my waist until he'd pulled down the zipper on my pants. Then they moved upwards, undid the top button of my shirt, worked their way inside and started squeezing a nipple hard while he whispered in my ear,

"You're getting thoroughly fucked tonight, Tit-boy."

He tugged my upper body forward by pulling on the nipple until he had me leaning over the balcony wall with my bum sticking out behind me. I kept still, holding onto the top of the wall while his free hand pulled my unzipped trousers down to my knees, followed by my underpants. Next, he rubbed his finger around my arsehole for a few moments and then I felt him push it up inside me. Unfortunately, t was at that precise moment that Marco popped his head out the balcony door to call us into dinner.

I was mortified at being caught literally with my pants down and a finger in my ass, but Marco just grinned knowingly and went back into the living room. Robert whispered,

"Later - I promise - I'm getting in that arse - OK Ben?"

Then he stuck his finger in my mouth for me to lick clean before marching me red-faced back indoors. I went to help Carlo in in the kitchen, who looked questioningly at me with a smirk on his face. I nodded at his unspoken question and he whispered,

"I thought so! I knew I was right about you and him. I should warn you he can be a tough take-no prisoners kind of guy, but if you're a good boy, you won't come to any harm."

"Thanks for setting me up. He's almost as sexy as a certain someone else who stopped fucking me last winter!"

"Yea, well, you were a good lay, kid and I told him you'd be a perfect sub for him. Now, don't let me down, baby."

I helped him take the food to the table and everyone sat down for one of his scrumptious dinners. Carlo seated me across from Robert, so I spent most of the meal answering his questions about Toronto and about being a new Canadian. But whenever my attention strayed, Marco seemed to be looking over at me. At the time I thought it must be that I was the only other guy at the table who wasn't at least twenty years older than him, but later on I realised he was already making plans!

Mainly because of Marco's presence, Carlo's guests all hung around far later than usual, drinking far too much of his favourite red wine. Eventually when it got so late that people were forced to leave, I walked over to Robert hoping to hear his plans for the rest of the evening. My disappointment was intense when he told me that he had come down with a bad case of jetlag caused by his transatlantic flight, made worse by indulging in far too many glasses of wine!

"I'm fading badly, Ben. I feel like keeling over right here in front of you. I need a good night's sleep if I'm going to work on you the way I want to. But keep tomorrow night free, OK?"

I could tell by his eyes and the grey tone of his face that he was telling the truth, so I reluctantly joined the general exodus leaving the party, though not without giving him one last despairing look. In the hallway I found myself waiting for the elevator with Marco. We started up a conversation, still slightly embarrassed on my part after what he'd seen on the balcony, and we soon realised that we lived close to each other, within walking distance, in neighbouring high rises.

He looked and sounded really drunk and since I was pretty wasted myself, making the fifteen-minute walk home together seemed a good idea. As we strolled along, I tried to make small talk mainly about sports, but I soon found him steering the conversation around to how much he missed his girlfriend, away on her trip to Europe. Then just as we got in sight of my building, he proceeded to tell me that he'd only recently got her to suck his cock and that she wasn't any good at it yet.

On the other hand, he said, he'd always heard his college buddies say that a mouth was just a mouth and that gay guys gave great head. I was sure his friends must have said "faggots", not "gay guys", but I appreciated him cleaning up their conversation for me! I couldn't think of what to say and stayed silent as the two of us reached the front of my building. But I knew I had to answer his unspoken question, and the fact that he'd just seen me with a strange man's finger up my ass in a semi-public situation made it difficult to refuse a request for a simple blow job!

Half an hour later, from my position on the floor, I looked up and watched him pull his pants up from around his ankles and head to the door.

"Hey thanks man, that was fucking intense - the best B.J. ever. Girls always pull back at the last moment and make me finish off into my hand. I've never cum all over a face like that - wow."

I'd done my job, the future bridegroom had got his rocks off and he'd be able to swear to his future bride, on his grandmother's grave, that he hadn't touched another girl all the time she'd been away!

After our conversation earlier down in the street, I'd taken him up to my apartment and led him into my bedroom. He'd flopped onto the bed with his hands behind his head on the pillow without bothering to speak; waiting for me to get to work.

Also, without saying a word, I climbed up onto the bed, knelt between his legs, undid his belt and pulled his jeans and boxers down to his knees. Laying down between his legs I started by licking his balls, then swallowed his dark, thick and semi-hard rod. It firmed up right away and he began to lift his hips up off the mattress, bucking upwards into my mouth. When I raised my head up for a moment to get a better angle, he immediately grabbed my ears and shoved me back down on it.

"Don't stop, cock-sucker, keep that mouth on my dick until you make me nut."

He was so drunk that he was having a lot of trouble getting to orgasm, so after a while he got up off the bed in order to look down on me, the fag cocksucker on his knees below him. That seemed to get him more excited and he began flexing his hips back and forth, almost knocking me over in the process. I grabbed on to his upper thighs to steady myself, then let my hands wander upwards to grab hold of his beautiful hairy butt cheeks. But when he felt me touching him there, he pushed my hands back down; this straight boy wasn't so drunk that he was going to let a fag fondle his ass!

Standing over me and looking down at me did the trick for him; I heard him shout a few unintelligible words and then his cum came spewing out thick and fast; after swallowing the first glob I pulled off and let him spray the rest all over my face.

After he'd gone, I wiped his cum off my face, took my clothes off and lay down on my bed, telling myself I shouldn't have given in to him. Ever since coming out, I'd usually only played with other gay men; I hated that old stereotype about sex-mad gays, desperate to make out with any "real" (i.e. straight) man that came along. I liked gay men, liked being with them and loved having sex with them. I told myself that it was just the horniness caused by my attraction to Robert and being so drunk that had made me give in to this pushy straight guy.

I made a resolution: he might be heaven to look at and excitingly reminiscent of his uncle, but I wasn't going to make a habit or giving out blow jobs to drunken straight boys eager for a bit of dark-side fun. That resolution didn't even last the week! In the meantime, I needed a man. I needed Robert and thankfully I didn't have to wait too long.

I was still sleeping at noon the next day when the phone rang. I picked up, mumbled "Hello" and immediately sat upright at the sound of Robert's voice.

"Did you make any plans for the evening?"

"Not until I heard from you."

"Well, that's sensible of you, since I've made some plans. I'm having dinner with Carlo first and I'll be at your place by nine o'clock. Clean yourself out thoroughly, lube your hole and get naked before I arrive. If you don't have any on hand already, get a good bottle of Scotch. I enjoy a sip while I'm playing."

After I managed to make a noise that sounded like "Yes Sir", he put the phone down without bothering to say goodbye. I could hardly believe my luck; he looked to be the nearest thing to the masterful older man I'd craved since Carlo had stopped fucking me. I ran out to buy the best bottle of Scotch I could afford, and on my way home, stopped in at the local sex shop for a giant bottle of lube. I spent the rest of the day clock watching, wishing the time away. At eight o'clock I stepped into the shower with my douche hose and just before nine I shoved a giant gob of lube up my ass and waited.

He was exactly on time. I was grateful that none of my fifteenth-floor neighbours were waiting for the elevator in the hallway when I opened the door to him in the nude. Now that he was fully rested, he looked even more sexy than the night before. He was wearing a pair of tight Levis, a denim shirt and black boots and carrying a small leather bag. I made a nervous attempt at small talk while showing him around my small apartment, but he soon made it clear the only room he was interested in was the bedroom.

"Carlo lent me a couple of things, and I stopped in at his friendly local hardware store this afternoon for some extra supplies. Knowing what Carlo did to you means we can get right down to things and I don't have to bother with preliminaries or with nervous questions. All you have to do is obey me and keep your thoughts to yourself; no stupid questions, no nattering, no whining, no complaining; is that clear?"

He put his hands on my shoulders, turned me around and pulled my wrists firmly behind me. Getting a length of rope from the bag, he tied them together, then spun me back around and began pulling on my nipples.

"Well Tit-boy, I'm going to enjoy working these big juicy knobs. But let's get you doing some work first; down on your knees, where you belong."

I dropped onto my knees in front of him as he unbuttoned his jeans and waved a long, curved dick in my face. It was already half-hard and the foreskin had drawn back, covering only half of the crown. I licked around it quickly to get a quick taste of head cheese before he grabbed hold of my ears and pushed himself into my mouth, not stopping until it was at the back of my throat.

I choked and coughed up big gobs of phlegm, so he pulled out for a moment, but then went in deep again and again, until I was able to match his rhythm and take him all the way down. He held onto my ears and let me work on him for a long time until I thought he seemed ready to pop. But instead he pulled away, rubbed his dick all over my face, and whispered.

"Not a bad mouth, laddy, you seem to be a quick learner. Now up on the bed on your stomach; let's see about that other hole of yours."

I got up from my knees, stumbled across the room and fell face first onto the mattress with my legs apart, then lay there impatiently waiting as he took his clothes off and methodically folded them before moving over to the bed. He picked up the super-sized bottle of lube I'd bought that afternoon, poured some on his fingers and shoved one slowly but firmly up my ass, before following up with two more. He spent a few minutes loosening me up, before pulling them out and leaning forward to hold a small brown bottle against my nose.