I Was Putty in His Hands

This is a story involving two men, one mostly dominant and the other submissive. Please look at the story tags at the end should you desire more information on the story content.

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The year was 1978, and I was a skinny 18 year old who was insecure and uncertain about myself. To say I was easily impressionable would be an understatement, and when I fell for somebody, either male or female, I fell of them and fell hard.

Since I was neither confident, good looking or very well off, it was rare when anyone would give me a second look, and since I lacked the testicular fortitude to make my feelings known to the one I was madly in love with, you can imagine what my love life was like.

Then came Tom. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I was hooked. I saw him in the gym, lifting weights while reclining on a bench, and even though I was a bony kid who packed only about 135 pounds on an close to 6' frame, I started to hang around that part of the gym whenever I would see him there. I looked as out-of place as you could imagine.

Still, I fiddled around with some of the weights, even though my eyes were on the prize, the prize being Tom. He looked to be a little shorter than me, but he was all muscle, especially his upper torso. His biceps were, without exaggeration, as big as my thighs, and when he would get really pumped up, with veins bulging and tendons rippling, it was a sight to see.

I thought it was weird that I would get infatuated by somebody like this, because I had never been drawn to anybody like that before. Maybe it was because Tom, like me, seemed very shy and kept to himself. He never looked at anyone while he worked out, and just kept lifting weights and doing stuff with the various machines.

Actually, that's not quite true. He did look at one person. Himself. He was fond of watching himself in the mirror, checking out his body while he lifted absurd amounts of weights with relatively little strain. I couldn't blame him, and often cringed when I saw my own reflection in the mirror.

The mirror was what led me to meeting Tom, and it was because he caught me staring at him. My eyes were fixed on his bulging biceps, as they often were, but I happened to glance up and saw him watching me watching him. A little grin formed at the corners of his mouth, and I read the look he gave me as contempt.

I tried to keep my distance for the rest of the day, and the next day I vowed to make sure I wasn't so obvious, but I was startled when a voice came up from behind me.

"Hey," said the voice, which I had never heard but sounded just like the body it came from. "I need a spot."

I knew little about weightlifting, but knew enough that what my hero was asking was for me to stand over him behind the slanted bench and be ready to grab the bar in case he needed help for some reason, like losing a grip in the bar.

"I can't - too much weight," I mumbled, trying to explain that I couldn't be of much help, given the amount of iron on the bar, but he acted like he didn't hear me and waited for me to follow him.

"What's your name?" he asked as he looked me over.

"Eric," I squeaked, and when he extended his hand and told me his name was Tom, like a fool I extended mine.

He didn't break any bones in my hand, but I could tell he enjoyed my discomfort. When he let me go I tried to tell him that I could never lift that much weight off his neck if it ever fell on him, but she shook his head.

"Ever hear about people who lift cars off kids? About people doing inhuman things when they had to?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Well, that's what you'll do too if you have too," Tom said matter-of-factly, and after he put rosin on his hands and got onto the bench, he continued. "After all, if I broke my neck, who else in here would you have left to stare at?"

"You'll get a better look from here anyway," Tom concluded with a knowing grin as my face probably turned crimson, but still I stood behind him as he lifted the bar off the brackets.

He was right. I was able to get a better look, and while he started lifting I got interrogated. Yes, I was a freshman, 18, and lived with my folks because the college was only about 2 miles from home.

In return I learned that Tom was a junior and 3 years my senior, and as he finished his brief biography all of sudden the bar started shaking and his eyes bulged.

"Losing it," he gasped, looking for me for help, and I grabbed at the bar and pulled up with all my might.

It was a titanic struggle, but after a few seconds I could tell my the look on Tom's face that he was only kidding and had still been in control. Effortlessly, he jerked the bar up and put it back in place before rolling off the bench to put more weights on the bar.

"Just testing you. Wanted to see whether you would piss your pants or run," he informed me, and while I hadn't done either, I did lose the hard on that I had gotten from staring at Tom from above.

The hard on returned as Tom went back to lifting, and I had to press it down between my legs so it wasn't obvious. Toward the end of the workout, I had figured out that Tom was not only tolerating my staring at him, he was enjoying it, feeding off of it.

It wasn't boring, just standing there watching. I could stare at Tom's shoulders and arms all day, enjoying the rippling of the muscles and the animal-like grunts he would let out. Being up-close, I got to see the little wisps of hair that grew deep in the hollows of his armpits.

From a distance, I had thought he must shave his body hair, maybe for body building or something. The few hairs were a light red, so light it was almost invisible, and as I watched trickles of sweat roll down his sides I was tempted to towel him off.

My eyes went down to Tom's baggy shorts, and I let my imagination wander at what wonders they held, and just then Tom announced that the workout was over.

"Let's hit the showers," Tom said, and a shiver went down my spine.

I usually avoided the showers because they were so public. Not that being naked in front of guys bothered me, but seeing other guys naked would often give me an erection, and that doesn't usually go over too well. Now, the prospect of taking a shower with Tom was giving me mixed feelings, and I was tempted to go into a toilet stall and jerk off first so I didn't have to worry about that.

As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. I ran in the the shower room, made sure the temperature of the water would be cool enough to made an erection tough to happen, and stood under the spray for a while. A shower wasn't really necessary because I hadn't even worked up a sweat, but I stood there and waited for Tom to come in.

After a couple minutes I stepped out and dried off a little before going to my locker. Tom was down there in that direction and was putting on sweat pants, having just dropped his shorts, and I got a nice view of his muscular butt but missed seeing anything else.

"Get dressed and you can come to my place and give me a rubdown," Tom informed me. "You ever do that?"

"No," I said and I got dressed in a hurry, not only because the idea excited me but before Tom was staring at me.

My body was nothing much to look at, but Tom seemed interested on one particular part of me, and I needed to get my boxer shorts on fast because his attention was getting me rather excited.

While I wasn't blessed physically in very many ways, I do have a big cock. Big as in long, that is. It's slender, embarrassingly so, and in my eyes it resembles one of those foot-longs you get at a ballpark. I'm used to having guys do double takes (along with an occasional snicker I must admit) when they see my dick flopping around, but if I had my druthers I'd trade half the length for a doubling of the girth.

Tom didn't snicker, and that made me happy. It also made me wonder if he was gay, instead of being just a shameless narcissist. Was he looking at me as a potential lover, or just in the market for a fawning personal assistant? As for me, I didn't much care which. He was gorgeous.

I was young, immature and plenty shallow myself. Considering that I was far from being a prize package myself, I didn't really have the right to be that way, but that was the truth. As the saying goes, I was young, dumb and full of cum.

After I got dressed Tom led me out of the locker room and down the street toward what was known as the student ghetto of the town. It was a less than charming but very accurate description of the area, and as we walked Tom answered a lot of my questions on the way.

"You should get a haircut," Tom informed me, and he was probably right. I wore it long in the fashion of the times, and it could have used a little work, but there was no way I would get it cut short like Tom's was, which was close to a crew cut.

"You are queer, right?" Tom asked after I mumbled agreement about my hair styling, and his bluntness put me back on my heels.

I mumbled my standard response, which was that I was sort of playing the field, which consisted of both teams, although I had very little luck with either gender.

"You ever suck cock?" Tom asked, clearly annoyed at my response, and when I mumbled that I had, he concluded, "Then you're queer."

"Um - er - um," I said on the way to asking him if he was homosexual.

"Some stuff I do and some stuff I don't do," Tom said as he ushered me up some rickety stairs that led to his apartment. "You'll learn."

Tom's apartment was a studio that was very sparsely furnished. A little kitchen table with two chairs, a ratty looking couch, a TV with a coat hanger as an antenna, and a bed.

"Get undressed," Tom said before ducking into the bathroom.

This was hardly the romantic moment I had imagined, but I obediently took my clothes off, except for my boxer shorts. When Tom emerged from the bathroom he told me to take my underwear off while throwing a tube of lotion at me, but I barely heard him because I was staring at him.

Tom was naked, and while his physique was amazing, what caught my attention was his dick. I was expecting something magnificent, along the lines of the rest of him, so as he walked over to the bed and fell down on his stomach I did my best to keep a shocked expression off my face.

All I could think of was the statue "David" by Michelangelo, only compared to Tom, David was well hung. I told myself that it probably looked small because the rest of him was so massive, and while that might have been part of it, the simple fact was that Tom had a small penis.

This did not bother me, and to be honest it kind of turned me on. For one thing, his dick looked beautiful regardless of the size, at least in the brief time I had seen it before he got onto his stomach. He was circumcised, I had noticed, and he had a tiny tuft of red hair above his dick which was cute too.

I took my boxers down and walked over to the bed, with Tom's eyes following my swinging dick doing the metronome thing, and when I got to the side of the bed Tom told me to put some lotion on my dick.

"Grease it up good," Tom said as I fumbled with the cap of the tube of lotion. "You got a real big one. How long is it hard?"

"Uh, I dunno," I replied.

"Bullshit," Tom said. "That's it, Pull on it. Damn. Never had one that big before. Skin it back. That's it. Don't cum, just get it up."

Despite the awkwardness of the moment, I had no problem getting hard simply because I was looking at Tom's naked backside. A backside that I was about to massage, starting from the feet and working upward, according to Tom's instructions.

"Harder," Tom said as I rubbed his feet on my way to his ankles. "Dig in hard. I need to feel it."

I dug my fingers into Tom's flesh as best I could, but it was like massaging a statue. Rock hard with very little give, and after I got up past Tom's calves he told me to get on the bed and straddle him.

My dick was bouncing like a diving board as I climbed onto the foot of the bed, and as I dug into the backs of Tom's thighs I felt the light down that grew on the backs of them. It struck me how little body hair Tom had, and that was something I liked, never being very fond of the overly generous amount I had ended up with that made me feel like a Sasquatch.

I felt a bit embarrassed when my hairy legs rubbed against Tom's smooth ones, but if it bothered Tom he didn't show it. Now my hands were up to his ass and since they were now dry I reached for the lotion.

"You like my ass?" Tom said.

"Yes," I assured him, and before the long string of pre-cum dangling from my dick ended up landing on him I swiped at it with the back of my hand.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"Kinda nervous," I admitted.

"I know. You're doing good though, Eric," Tom said, sighing when my greased hands dug into his butt, which had a little give to it. "You open-minded?"

"About what?" I asked.

"Things," Tom said generically.

"I guess."

"Good," Tom said. "Some of the stuff I'm going to have you doing might be new to you."

I waited for Tom to continue talking, to maybe tell me that if he suggested something that I found objectionable, I should just say so, but Tom didn't say that and never would. The implication was clear. Whatever he wanted me to do, I was going to do.

"Put a finger in my ass," Tom said as I pondered what he was going to have me do, and because I had done very little in my 18 years so far, his prediction about things being new to me would probably be right.

I had done this before, so putting my finger between his firm buttocks was nothing knew. My digit pushed into the snug ring, and as I moved it in as far as I could Tom groaned at told me to put another one in.

"Like that?" Tom asked, and I admitted that I did. His ass was warm and tight and I had a perfect view. What was not to like?

I did this for about a minute or so before Tom told me to go back to massaging him externally, so up I went to the small of his back, and when I got to the part I was looking forward to, his broad back and shoulders, I was faced with a dilemma because while my cock was so hard it was practically pinned to my stomach, my balls were about to start rubbing his ass.

"Your cock still hard?" Tom asked, and when I told him it was he asked again how long it was. "And don't give me that you don't know bullshit either."

"I don't, not really," I protested, not mentioning that a kid measured it one time and he said it was almost 11", but he was pushing the ruler into me.

"Ten inches seems about right to me," Tom said, probably guessing accurately. "Bet you'd like to check my oil with that dipstick, wouldn't you?"

"What?" I asked, confused about his jargon.

"I said I bet you were thinking that you wished your cock was doing what your fingers were a minute ago," Tom said. "Anybody ever able to take all of you?"

"Huh? No. I mean, I never did that," I said, and that was the truth. I knew about what he was talking about but had never done it, a tribute to my lack of experience.

"Well, if you treat me right maybe you'll get the chance later," Tom said. "Now really work my shoulders because they ache."

I slid up, my balls running along the crack of Tom's ass, and as my aching hands dug into Tom's chiseled shoulders and neck I though about what he said he might let me do. It sounded exciting but I didn't have the slightest idea about how to do it, a commentary about my inexperience and ignorance at the time.

Tom's neck. As my fingers worked along the back of his neck I tried to figure out what size shirt collar he wore. I wore a 14 1/2" neck, and tried to figure out if they even made shirts to fit a neck like Tom's, which was bull like.

As for his arms, which I kneaded passionately, while his sleeve length might not be overly long, they had better be baggy sleeves. It wasn't very hard to fantasize about Tom flexing his arms and having his shirt sleeves tear open, like The Incredible Hulk or something, and I was certain that if he wanted to, he could put me in a bear hug that could kill me.

"Okay Eric," Tom said. "Get up so I can roll over. From the feet up again."

I climbed off the bed and fiddled with the lotion while going to the end of the bed, and after Tom rolled onto his back he lay there looking magnificent, with his hands linked behind his neck while he waited for me to make his front side glisten like his back had.

As I massaged Tom's feet, I was aware of his looking at me. I couldn't help noticing that Tom's penis was no longer little and limp. It was hard and arching back onto his little nest of pubic hair, and while it was now erect it was still small.

I had thought that Tom might have been a grower, one of those guys who gets a whole lot bigger when hard, but that wasn't the case with Tom. I tried not to look at it, because as I massaged Tom's ankles I knew that I would be up close and personal with it soon enough, but I did take peeks in that direction.

Tom's balls were big, that much was for sure, and the size of that meaty pouch made his dick seem even smaller. I had never been much on size anyway, and for whatever reason, I found his small cock very erotic looking.

It looked out of place, both because of his Adonis-like physique and because he was a 21 year old man with a penis that might have been 4" long at best, and no thicker than my own needle dick.

Tom seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but that wasn't my nature. Besides, he looked beautiful to me in every way, and I also loved the way he made no effort to hide or apologize for the way he was, and that was something I would have loved to have been able to do.

So my hands went up the fronts of Tom's calves, the down on the insides of his bulging calves soft and sexy to the touch, and when I got up to his massive thighs I climbed back up on the bed without being asked, something that Tom seemed to appreciate.

"Your hands getting tired, Eric?" Tom asked, and I lied and said no.

"You're doing great, as you can tell," Tom said, nodding down at his dick, with sported a bead of pre-cum on the tip of the gumdrop head. "Massage everything but my cock. Don't touch that yet."

I nodded and after filling my palm with lotion I ran my hands up Tom's upper things and past his cock, and after A couple more passes Tom told me to massage his balls.

"Don't be gentle," Tom said. "Work my nuts over good."

"Don't want to hurt you," I said as the golf-ball sized balls rolled in my palm.

"You won't. Hard."

Tom's legs were spreading apart, which had the dual effect of making it easier to play with his balls but also having me almost doing a split to stay straddled over his thighs. I wondered if it was possible to pull a hamstring like this, and hoped that I wouldn't cramp up in this awkward position.

My right hand kept squeezing Tom's scrotum while my left hand spun in the area around his cock without touching, and he kept telling me to play with his nuts harder. Sweat was pouring off of Tom and he was turning beet red as my hand practically yanked his balls off his body, when suddenly he let out a bellow.

His dick sprang upright and then back down to his pubic hair, and when it rose again it started squirting jets of cum into the hair, mostly landing on his six pack abs, and when he stopped cumming he told me I could let go of his nuts.

"That took the edge off," Tom said before telling me to clean up the mess I had helped cause, but when I reached up with my hand he shook his head.

"Not that way," Tom said, and then I realized what he wanted me to do.

His seed was tart, aided by the sweat that covered his body where the lotion hadn't reached, and I could feel his eyes on me as I lapped up the ropes of semen until it was gone.

There was a little cum on his dick and bush, and before I could get the words out Tom nodded. I put my lips around Tom's dick, which now resembled a toad stool, and as I sucked on his stem, pulling it upright a bit as I did so, it was a strange feeling indeed.