Not That Dopey

The refrigerator door slammed shut with an uncharacteristic crack, and Cliff could hear something falling inside.

"Oh, fuck."

He knew he should open it and survey the damage, but he didn't have the time. And he didn't have the inclination. He was royally pissed.

Zack hadn't come home the previous night.

This wasn't the first time this had happened. Zack was too cocky. He thought too much of that big black cock of his—assuming too much of its control over Cliff. But that wasn't what really pissed Cliff off. What really pissed him off was that he knew he was lying—that he was, in fact, letting Zack lead him around by that big, black cock of his. His was pissed because Zack wasn't inside him right now.

Cliff pushed the stop button on the coffee machine—or at least thought he had. The blue light was still on. He reached over and jerked the plug out of the wall.

"Fixed that," he growled. And indeed he had. No lights were showing now, and he'd tried to stop it too fast. There was no coffee in the slot either.

"Fuck it," he said and sat at the kitchen island and stuffed the dry toast in his mouth.

He was conflicted. Despite wanting Zack to be fucking him now, Cliff was getting to where he didn't want Zack at him so much of the time—or at least that's what he had thought he felt. Now that Zack had been out all night, Cliff had accepted that he'd become addicted to big, black cock. And a lot of it.

Well, he had to pull himself together. He had to go see that Waters boy today and determine whether he was the menace to society that that old bitty, Mrs. Watson, had testified to. But Waters wasn't really a boy. He was a young man. And his employers had declared that he was a good worker and was quiet and decent.

Cliff snorted at that, though. Those two fairies? he thought. With what Mrs. Watson was alluding to, having the guy working and living with them might be just the reason he needed to be bundled off to a school where they helped the slow, as his regulations now said he had to refer to it. Just how slow was he, though? Cliff wondered.

Well, he thought, as he stood up from the island counter and sighed. That's what Cliff was supposed to determine by visiting him today.

As Cliff was getting into his car, he looked up at the entrance to his apartment house and saw Zack entering it. But Zack wasn't alone. There was a young white guy with him—and Zack was guiding him toward the apartment entrance with the palm of a hand cupping the young man's butt cheek.

"Shit!" Cliff exclaimed to the steering wheel and slammed his car door hard. He's going to fuck him in my bed, I'll bet. Waited for me to leave and then couldn't wait to get him upstairs in my bed. Well, we'll see about that when I get back this evening.

As he walked down the driveway between the white Victorian house on Washington Street and Mrs. Watson's house—obviously the complaining bitty's house, because he saw her peeking out of her kitchen window—Cliff was still thinking about both having to throw Zack out, which he knew he'd have to do, and wondering whether he could get along without Zack's big, black cock, which he also knew wasn't likely.

He knocked on the door to the building at the end of the driveway, and nearly dropped his jaw when it was answered by the most beautiful, hunky young man dressed only in a gold sock bathing suit that didn't contain everything it was supposed to. He'd seen the guy briefly at the antique store earlier in the week, but he hadn't registered then as the hunk that he exhibited now. Of course, he was wearing clothes then.

"Hi? You the social worker guy?" Luther asked, with a big smile on his face.

"Yes, yes, Cliff Trent. But let's go inside." He pressed his hand against the chest of the young hunk to move him out of the doorway. A zap of screaming nerves went through his body at the feel of the hard flesh. While he was pushing, he was looking around, trying to see if they could be viewed by Mrs. Watson from her kitchen window. He didn't think so.

Luther had retreated backward. "You OK?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, of course. I just didn't expect . . . What are you're wearing?"

"You don't like it? Pamela and Jonathan bought it for me. To go riding them in their yacht. But if you don't like it, I can . . ."

"No, no . . . oh, sweet crap . . . oh, oh. Is that all yours?"

Luther had gone ahead and stripped off the sock. Cliff feel on his knees in front of him.

"Oh, god, oh, god. I've got . . ." he had taken Luther's cock in his hands—lovingly—and was rubbing it on his cheeks. "Oh god. Big. Black. The biggest I've . . . oh, my."

"Tim and Alfred told me to be nice to you. They said you wanted to be my friend. If you like we can fuck fuck on my table over other. Tim told me to use it."

"Ummm, ummm," was all Cliff could manage. He already was trying to stuff as much of the cock in his mouth as possible.

Luther fucked him from behind, bent over Luther's special table. Luther was holding Cliff in place with a hand palming his belly and the other cupping his throat, pulling his head back onto Luther's shoulder.

"Oh shit, oh fuck, oh, god, yes," Cliff was stroking his own cock with one hand, palming Luther's butt cheek behind him with the other, and whimpering as Luther pumped his cock up into him from behind.

"You like to fuck fuck with me?"

"Oh, god, yes. But do you know what would be the best?"

"No, what?"

"Bound. I like to be bound when I'm fucked."

"Oh, you want to be a special friend, then? That's what Keith says when he wants to be tied up to my bed in my room. Tim said I shouldn't take anyone into my room. But Keith, he said it was OK for special friends. And Tim told me to be nice to you. You want to go into my room and fuck fuck tied up?"

"Oh fuck yes!"

* * * *

Cliff was laying on his back, his wrists tied to the rails of the brass headboard above him. Luther was sitting on his hips and idly playing with holding their cocks together and slapping them on Cliff's belly.

"So, we are friends now?" he looked down into Cliff's face and asked shyly.

"Yes, Luther we are very good friends now."

"And you will come back to work out with me on my fuck fuck table?"

"Yes, I surely will, Luther."

"And I don't have to go away to some dumb-people's school?"

"No, you don't have to go away to school, Luther."

* * * *

Luther's steps became more halting as he approached Keith's lifeguard stand on the Cape May beach that afternoon. He was coming to coordinate with Keith on his appointment the next day to have his cock glans pierced for a cock ring, and, since that would put Luther out of commission for a couple of weeks, he was hoping Keith would go back with him to the Washington Street house for a good cocking.

But Keith wasn't alone. He was standing beside his station, looking out to the ocean, but there was an older man standing there too—very close to Keith.

Luther sauntered up to them, though, and touched Keith's arm.

"Oh, hi there, big guy," Keith said. "So the Pink Poodle twins have let you free for a while?"

"I'm not working today, Keith," Luther said. He was talking to Keith, but he was looking at the man standing next to his special friend. "I wanted to talk about the doctor time tomorrow, and I thought maybe if you could come over to my house, 'cause, you know, after tomorrow . . . for a while . . ."

"This is Hamilton, Luther," Keith said, it being obvious Luther wanted to know. "Isn't he cute? He lives in South Carolina . . ."

"In Charleston," the man who Luther might say was rich looking and handsome, for a man that old, but not cute, interjected in a smooth Kentucky Bourbon voice.

". . . and he's here just for the summer. We've become good friends."

The "good friends" comment hit Luther like a ton of bricks. He knew what "good friends" meant. And as if to accentuate his distress, the man put an arm around Keith's waist and gave Luther a big smile.

"He says I can call him Ham, though. Isn't that cute?"

That disturbing "cute" crap again. "So, about tomorrow . . ."

"Sorry, Luther, I forgot about that. You still have the appointment, but Ham's invited me to go check out an Atlantic City casino with him. Isn't that great? He's got the most flash Jaguar convertible you've ever seen. You went with me to the doctor's office already. I'm sure you can find it and can get a ride home. Have you ever been to a casino? I haven't."

"Umm, well, OK. I gotta go now. I'm late to getting back to work."

Luther turned and walked away, leaving Keith looking a little confused. Hadn't Luther just said he had the day off? Keith thought. The tall, thin, older man of distinguished demeanor and a silky smooth southern accent voice leaned down and whispered in Keith's ear and then kissed him on the earlobe. Keith gave a little laugh and the man moved his hand to Keith's butt cheek and squeezed it.

Luther went straight to the Pink Poodle antique store, where Tim and Alfred quizzed him on how the visit that morning went with the social worker.

"Great," he said. "We're good friends now."

"But did he say anything about—?" Alfred started to ask.

"He said I don't have to go away to any school. He likes me right here. We're special friends."

"Let me get this straight; did he—?"

"Let it go, Alfred," Tim interceded. "He said the social worker isn't sending him away. We told Luther he should try for this result. Let's not worry how he did it."

Luther then asked if there was anything he could do here, but Tim told him to go home and get some sleep.

"You're going night fishing with Rob Leighton," he said. "You'd be good to get some sleep before you go."

Luther hadn't told Tim and Alfred about getting his cock ring on Wednesday—he thought they'd just fret. And maybe even tell him he couldn't. But he might have to ask them about taking him home from there. Now that Keith couldn't. Now that Keith had a new friend. Luther wondered if that meant Keith wasn't his special friend any more.

He trudged home, waving to Mrs. Watson's ruffling curtains as he passed her kitchen window, and went directly to his bed, where he lay and worried about Keith, and masturbated himself into a troubled nap.

* * * *

"There, I think that sets all of the nets, lines, and pots. Now is the time for patience. A good four hours, I think. I will go below." Rob stood there, looking in some purposeful way at Luther for a good ten seconds.

Luther looked over at Rob and smiled while he was being scrutinized. He was sitting on a padded bench on the port side of the well of the boat and watching the last fingers of red, orange, and purple light of the sunset. It made him think of the night Keith and he had gone into the water off the Cape May beach and fucked as the lights of the town flickered on for the evening. The thought of this made him sad.

He was thinking too of the next day—getting the cock ring put in. He hadn't thought before of the possible pain of having that done. But now, when Keith wasn't going to be there with him, he was beginning to think he should have given this more thought. Still, though, Pamela had said she wanted to fuck fuck with it. And Jonathan too. They'd bought him some clothes to wear when they went out on the yacht. He didn't want to disappoint them.

"So, I'm going below now," Rob repeated. "I'll take a shower."

"Yeah sure," Luther said, and then he turned his face back to the sunset.

Then Rob turned and clumped down the steep stairway in the hatchway to the cabin below.

The sea was calm, and there was very little pitching. Luther felt his body moving in rhythm with the rise and fall of the boat on the waves moving in toward the Jersey shore.

Luther sat and watched the distant shoreline for about a half hour. Then he stood and stripped off the shorts and briefs he'd been wearing, moved to the hatch to the cabin below, and descended.

It was almost totally dark in the cabin, but he'd been here several times before and he knew what was where.

He could hear the heavy breathing, and he moved around to the left in the cabin, making sure he didn't upset anything and thus reveal where he was. The breathing was to his right now.

He turned and lunged, extending his arms. He encountered man flesh. Rob yelped in the dark, as Luther embraced his body and pulled him in. The two began to struggle in the dark, to wrestle on the floor of the bobbing boat, set in a rolling motion by the lurching and grasping and lunging of the two strong bodies.

Slowly, though, ever so slowly, Rob gave way to the strength and superior wrestling prowess of the younger man. Luther trapped Rob's body below his on the floor. Rob was panting and moaning his exhaustion. Luther stood, his feet straddling Rob's hips. He leaned down, scooped his arms around Rob's belly, and pulled his torso off the floor. Rob was so exhausted he dangled there between Luther's legs, his head hanging down, his arms swaying with the movement of the boat, the tops of his feet resting on the decking.

Luther started working his cock inside Rob's channel, and the older man groaned and burbled a reaction that could either be begging for relief or moaning for the fuck. Rob whimpered and groaned and spilled his seed on the deck between Luther's feet as Luther slow pumped him to his own ejaculation.

Shortly thereafter, Rob was laying, in the dark, on his belly on the bunk, his wrists tied to the headboard, and his legs bent up with restraints on his ankles attached to the bottom of the bunk overhead. He was babbling and sobbing once again as Luther straddled his hips and rode his ass to another ejaculation by each.

Afterward, Rob no longer bound, the two lay on their sides on the bunk, Rob cuddled inside Luther's lap.

"God, it seemed like an eternity before we could get out here," Rob murmured.

"You liked the fucking?"

"I always like your fucking, Luther."

"But still we have to do it in the dark, and you make me fight you for it and tie you up."

"Yes, Luther. You know how I feel about that. The guilt. I want it—oh shit how I want this big cock of yours—but I can't do it without the feeling that it's been taken from me and I can't do anything about it. And it must be in the dark. I can't be seen in the dark. It's not really happening if it's in the dark."

"I like fucking you. You were one of my first fuck friends. Tim told me I should only do it with him and Alfred. But you were one of my first fuck friends before I went with Tim and Alfred. So you don't count."

"One of your first fuck friends?"

"Yeah sure. You and Father Paul."

"Ah, Father Paul. Do you and Father Paul . . .?"

"No, Not any more. He said he has to be very careful."

"Luther. Do you ever feel like you want to get away from Cape May?"

"Get away? Why?"

"I know that people take advantage of you here—and that they treat you like you were a dummy."

"The joke is on them then, isn't it, Rob? I'm slow, but I'm not a dummy."

"No, Luther, you're not a dummy. I've known you for so long, been close to you for so long. But taking advantage of you . . ."

"You think you are taking advantage of me? Who do you think started our fuckings? Did you think you were taking advantage of me?"

"Well, yes, a little."

Luther laughed. "I picked you, Rob, I wanted to fuck you. I pick them all. A little dummy talk, and they think they are fooling me. But they are fooling me to do what I want to do with them. I fuck and people give me what I want. Leave Cape May? No, I have everything I want here."

"Who do you fuck, Luther?"

"Anyone I want. They see my cock, and they lay down and open their legs to me. They beg me to fuck them."

"I certainly did, didn't I? But women. I know you fuck men, but women? Do you fuck them too?"

"Yeah sure. They have holes, don't they? I like them, I fuck them."

"And the girls; do you fuck them too?"

"No, not girls—or boys either. Too dangerous. I want to stay in Cape May."

"You certainly are no dummy, Luther." Rob made the mental note to keep fighting Madge off on Luther being a danger to their girls or anyone else's. He believed Luther. Luther acted differently when the two of them were alone; he believed that Luther laid it on thicker than reality in public. "You said Cape May has everything you want. Everything? You don't want riches and all of the good things in life?"

Luther laughed again. "Well, tomorrow I'm having a cock ring put in my dickhead. Then I'll have everything I want. Cape May gives me everything I need or want."

Rob shuddered within Luther's embrace. "A cock ring?"

"Yes, a big, thick, silver one—to go with my big, thick dick."

"Oh, god, Luther, you're going to make me come again."

"OK, if you want."

The next twenty minutes featured no talking. Luther was side splitting Rob from behind and stroking his cock until Rob cried and came for him once again—safely in the dark.

"That cock ring, Luther. Can I be the first one to feel it inside me?"

"If you want. You're my first real friend—I don't think Father Paul is a real friend He's so nice, nice. But not a real nice."

"I'll be happy to pay for it, Luther—the cock ring operation. And, if you don't have anyone else to take you to the doctor's and then to take you home, I'll do it."

"Thank you, Rob. You're a special friend."

"But you'll let me be the first you use it with, won't you?"

"Yeah, sure, you're a special friend."

Luther smiled in the dark, knowing that Rob didn't know what a special friend was to him, already imagining them in his bed, Rob bound, the lights off, the bed groaning and bouncing up and down, and Luther punishing Rob's channel deep with the feel of his new cock ring.

And that concern was put to rest too. Not only was someone going to be with him for the operation and to take him home, but he was going to pay for it too. All of those people just didn't get it. They thought they were taking advantage of him, when they were providing him everything he wanted and needed. All because they wanted his big, black cock inside them. Luther didn't know his daddy, but he thanked him almost every night for the big, black cock.