Special Inducements

I was reluctant, but my ex-boyfriend Brian talked me into going to his younger brothers graduation pool party. We were sitting in my car in the parking lot of the liquor store. He had bought two kegs of beer and I helped load them in the car.

"Why should I torture myself staring at all those eighteen year-old hard bodies?" I jokingly asked him.

"Because you'll get to stare at all those eighteen year-old hard bodies," he laughed, "...and they're legal now. Who knows, you have the best gaydar of anyone I know, I'm sure one or two of them are queer but don't know it yet!"

I had to smile at Brian's lack of self-awareness. We had met when he was eighteen and at that time he didn't know he was gay himself.

"Besides," he added, "my parents are out of town and I promised them there would be adult supervision at the party."

"So who are the adults going to be?" I asked with a smile.

"John," he whined in that sing-song voice he always uses when he wants to get his way, "...if you do this for me I'll spend a Sunday afternoon kneeling between your legs like the old days!"

Ohhhh, yes, I remembered...once I had taken him to the lake cabin for ten-days and trained him in the fine art of pleasuring men, Sunday afternoons with him became simply delightful!

"Oh, alright," I said, "but on one condition: thinking about all those boys wearing nothing but skimpy swim trunks has given me a raging hard-on...I'll go if you suck me off right now in the car."

"You're incorrigible," he sighed. "I've never met a guy who gets so many hard-ons!"

I simply smiled and pointed to the bulge in my slacks. Like I do with all my boys, I sat back and had Brian do the work of opening my pants and taking out my cock.

He scooched over to me, and while he was fumbling with the clasp and the zipper, I saw his eyes glaze-over with that familiar look of hunger and lust for my penis.

I silently congratulated myself for training such an obedient and proficient cock-sucker.

***

"I'll be back at four," I told him once we'd unloaded the kegs and placed them in his backyard.

"But the party starts at two," he said.

"I know, I want to give the boys a couple hours of beer drinking to loosen them up," I replied.

I heard him chuckling as I walked away.

I drove to the car lot to get some paperwork done and make an appearance. I like to be involved with all my salesmen. I give them encouragement. Each one makes boatloads of money which in turn makes me boatloads of money.

I have the busiest Toyota dealership in the state. I have fifteen salesmen and two full-time lot boys and two part-timers. The salesmen are all highly motivated by greed so they don't need someone looking over their shoulders. The lot boys are another matter. If they're not watched closely, they will disappear and hide.

My boys are gay and horny. I've caught them diddling each other during working hours and have constantly warned there will be hell-to-pay if they have sex on company time with someone other than me.

Timmy and Eddie are naturally gay. I didn't have to offer them any 'special inducements' to become my bitches. Sammy and Jimmy though were another matter.

They fiercely clung to their 'I'm not gay' meme, but after each one spent a week with me at my lake cabin, they understood and accepted their true sexuality.

Their rewards were full tuition to the university; jobs at the car lot for spending money; and living free in my house.

For eighteen year-old boys still grappling with their sexual identity and insisting they are straight, the 'special inducements' have convinced several boys they had been wrong about their sexuality.

I don't consider myself a bad man, but sometimes I lose control of my inner demons when a boy stubbornly persists he is straight.

A few years ago a reluctant boy I fell head-over-heels in love with made me so mad that when I finally turned him out, it wasn't good enough for me.

No, I exacted my revenge by making him a total sissy complete with bras, panties, nighties, even skirts and dresses. When I tired of him, a friend of mine took him into his house. The boy is now my friends 'personal maid.' I understand he must wear a French maids costume during working hours.

As far as I know all the salesmen are straight, but from time-to-time they will let a lot boy suck them off. The lot boys are well aware how much money the older men earn and can't help themselves trying to seduce them, or at least get into their pants and make them happy and, uh, 'appreciative.'

When I turned the corner and saw how many customers were strolling the car lot my prick stirred inside my boxers. Nothing gets me more excited than a pretty, teenage boy, or the sight of a large crowd of potential car buyers.

I slowed down and even stopped a couple times as I made my way to my parking spot. I waved and smiled at the salesmen who were gently herding the buyers out of my way.

When I got out of the car, little Timmy was running towards me. Even after a year, he was still fresh-faced and eager to please.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Evans? Can I wash your car for you?" he asked excitedly.

"No, that's okay, sweetie...business looks good today," I said.

"Oh, you won't believe it -- Mr. Graham just told me we've already sold fourteen cars and it's only one in the afternoon!" he excitedly exclaimed.

My prick stiffened inside my boxers. I wasn't sure if it was due to the cute little fucker standing before me, or the imaginary 'CHA-CHING' of the cash register in my head.

Timmy suddenly lowered his voice and shyly asked as he stared at the bulge in my slacks, "May I take care of that for you, Mr. Evans?"

"Yes you may, but not now...come to my office at three!" I said firmly to him.

"Yes sir, I'll be there at three, thank you sir!" he said enthusiastically.

I watched his cute bubble-butt as he quickly sauntered away from me. A year ago, Timmy had been one of those boys who refused to believe he was gay, and now, quite frankly, he can't get enough of my cock.

I went inside the showroom. The hushed tones of the salesmen pitching deals to their potential buyers made me smile. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my Sales Manager, Bobby Graham closing in on me.

"John, guess what?" he said excitedly. "Wally Buford is here -- he wants to update his entire fleet!"

"WOW -- that's twelve pickup trucks -- that's fantastic! Where is he? I'll go meet with him," I said.

"He's kind of busy right now. Eddie is 'entertaining' him in your office," he said.

"Oh, good...." I replied. Eddie is another of my lot boys.

Bobby checked his watch and said, "It shouldn't be too much longer...unless he goes for seconds."

I chuckled and said, "Oh, he'll definitely go for seconds!"

Eddie was another boy who wouldn't admit he was gay until I proved to him he was wrong. Like Timmy, it took me a full seven-days at the cabin to turn him out. Now however, he has the most talented mouth of any of my boys.

You'd be wrong if you think I pimp-out my boys to special customers. They don't have to do anything they don't want to do. Of course, I do offer them 'performance-related' bonuses for services above and beyond their regular duties. That is simply good business.

My two part-time lot boys, Sammy and Jimmy, came in the front door loaded down with pastries and small sandwiches and replenished the refreshment table.

Sammy gave me a weak smile when he saw me. I could tell he was tired from the previous night. He and I and Timmy had a nice threesome. The only problem was when the satin sheet became so slick and wet with our copious spendings, I ended up sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms.

I may as well say something nice about Jimmy since I mentioned the other three boys: Jimmy taught himself, along with encouragement from me, how to close the velvet walls of his boycunt around a hard cock and milk it for all it's worth. The feeling is simply exquisite. A rare boy and special talent for sure.

***

Driving to the pool party I was not only basking in the afterglow of orgasm, but also the heady success of a major business deal.

Wally bragged he had a record year and I convinced him into adding two more pickups to his fleet. I sold him fourteen pickup trucks! CHA-CHING!!

I was so excited by the deal, when Timmy came into my office at three, it took less than two-minutes before I shot four heavy spurts into his mouth. Luckily, my dick remained hard and I made him work another fifteen-minutes before I rewarded his efforts with even more mouthfuls of spooge.

So counting the early morning blowjob I always insist upon from one of my boys: I had cum in Sammy's mouth once, Brian's mouth in my car, and Timmy's mouth twice in my office. Five orgasms and it was only 3:30. Not a record but the day was still young.

However, I was not expecting much from the boys at the party. I need more time and privacy to convince a reluctant boy to get on his knees. They need reassurance that simply taking my cock into their hands and mouths does not necessarily mean they are homosexual.

I figured after a few hours of ogling the nearly naked bodies of young boys I would be sufficiently excited and once they all left the party I would have Brian suck me off one or two more times.

***

There were so many cars on the street I had to park more than half-way down the block from the house.

The closer I walked to the back gate of the yard the louder the noise grew.

There was the splashing of water and the shrill and playful screams of females in make-believe distress, and of course, the boasting and taunts of overly confident, testosterone-filled eighteen year-old boys.

When I sauntered through the gate I saw heads turning to check out the new arrival. As soon as they saw I was old their interest waned immediately. Teenagers live in their own little world and if you're over thirty you become invisible to them.

Smoke from the barbecue grill to my left wafted upwards catching my attention. Brian and his brother Michael were busy flipping burgers and hot dogs. I walked towards them.

Michael noticed me first and waved. I waved back. Brian smiled and nodded and pointed to a nearby table. I placed my small bag on the ground, pulled off my shirt and sat in one of the lawn chairs at the table facing the pool.

Brian called out: "The keg and cups are over there...burgers and dogs are ready...you want cheese on your burger?"

He remembered I hated hot dogs. I smiled and nodded 'Yes.'

I drank in the hard bodies as I walked slowly to the keg. Most of the boys had been on the swim team with Michael and were gorgeous with sculpted chests and firm, smooth, hairless flesh.

It was smart I'd worn a jockstrap under my baggy swim trunks because my dick stiffened immediately at the sight of all the fresh, young meat. My erection would be noticeable only to those who looked closely at my crotch.

Two girls were filling their cups with beer and oblivious I was standing behind them.

Both wore rather skimpy bikini's. The brunette was on the chunky side, but I figured most of it was still baby-fat and she'd look pretty good in a year or two. The blonde was so skinny I wondered if she was anorexic.

The brunette whispered excitedly: "Did you see Nicky's hard-on pressing against his trunks?"

The blonde girl replied: "Well, duh, I'm not blind!"

Brunette: "Didn't you two hook-up a couple years ago?"

Blonde: "Yahhh, but his dick wasn't that big then."

Brunette: "Todd is always saying 'Anymore than a mouthful is a waste anyway.'"

Blonde (giggling): "He used to say that to me too."

Brunette: "Guys are sooo insecure about the size of their dicks!"

Blonde: "Oh-my-God -- yes -- sooo true!"

Brunette: "Although, it would be nice to know what it feels like to have someone as big as Nicky inside me."

Blonde (giggling): "Well, girlfriend, we got all summer to find out!"

Women! Sheesh....

While pouring beer into the cup, my eyes followed the girls to where they were sitting. I looked around them trying to guess which of the boys was 'Nicky.' I wanted to see his hard-on, too! Hahahaha....

***

Brian sat eating at the table with me. We didn't say much. Our eyeballs carefully scanned each boy in the pool, and the ones sitting around it.

I surreptitiously moved a hand beneath the table. I suspected what it would find, and sure enough, when I suddenly grasped and squeezed Brian's throbbing erection thru his swim trunks he nearly leaped off the seat.

"OH," he cried out in surprise.

I laughed and said, "When all the beefcake is gone, you and I are going to meet behind the gazebo!"

He laughed and said, "You can count on it!"

When he and I were dating, I would sometimes come here and swim.

We'd get each other worked-up in the pool and I would press his hand against my bulge and tell him, "Meet me behind the gazebo!"

That was the only area in the backyard that offered privacy. The added danger of being caught by his father while he was blowing me gave us fantastic orgasms.

Our lust-filled reverie was suddenly interrupted by a booming voice shouting "WE'RE OUTTA BEER!"

Brian left me alone to hook-up the other keg. When his brother came near, I said, "Michael, I've got a couple questions for you" and he sat down beside me.

I pointed at a boy sitting on the edge of the pool dangling his legs in the water.

"I've been watching that boy off by himself for half-an-hour...he never talks with anyone and no one talks to him...he sits there sulking like a lost puppy - what's up with him?" I asked.

He looked at where I was pointing and said, "Oh, that's Brad...he lives on the next street down. He and I had been best friends since kindergarten...until a couple years ago, that is..."

"What happened a couple years ago?" I asked him.

"Well, I'm not very proud of it -- I don't like to talk about it," he said mysteriously.

I looked at Michael's watery eyes and his slightly swaying body and could tell he was tipsy from the beer.

"C'mon Michael, it's me -- you used to tell me everything," I said to him.

"Well...I set him up with Mandy, an old girlfriend of mine figuring he would finally get laid...." he said then suddenly stopped.

"Okay, that's good. What happened?" I pressed him.

"Well, they were parked in his car and things were getting hot, and, well you know..." he said then abruptly stopped again.

"No, I don't know. You can't start a story without finishing it. What happened next?" I gently scolded him.

"Well, Mandy is kind of a slut. She gets so horny she'll practically tear a guys clothes off...anyway, she opens his jeans and when she takes out his dick she starts laughing..." he said.

"Ohhh, that's not good..." I said.

"No, it's not...anyway she told me when she stopped laughing, she asked him: 'Who the hell do you think you can satisfy with that tiny thing?"

"That's brutal -- my God, what a bitch!" I said.

"Yes she is, and that's not the worst of it...she told her girlfriends and they all started calling Brad 'needle-dick'...even to his face!" said Michael.

"That's terrible," I said.

"Well, you know how it is...word gets out and pretty soon all the guys are laughing and calling him 'ND' for short...I'm afraid I did too...he didn't speak to me for over a year," he said.

"That poor baby," I said. "He's cute as a bug and doesn't look a day over sixteen. This is the time of his life when he should be having fun without a single care to think about!"

Michael stared at me with his wide, bloodshot eyes and said, "John, Brad is not gay, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking!"

I smiled and replied, "A guy can fantasize, can't he?"

While Michael laughed a memory came to mind.

Two-years ago I was sitting at this exact table watching Brian and Michael swimming and I fantasized what it would be like to have them both naked and servicing me in my bed.

Ooooo, yes...brothers kneeling between my legs taking turns sucking my cock! A guy can dream, can't he?

"I'm surprised he came here today," I said. "The boy has guts!"

Michael cleared his throat, averted his eyes from mine and said, "Well, I kinda told him he might be able to score some pot at this party...."

My ears pricked up.

He continued: "He began smoking dope a few months ago...after his dad, uh...."

"After his dad did what?" I asked.

"His dad lost a fortune investing in some kinda financial deal...his dad lost all the money that was meant to pay for Brad's college...it's a real shame. Brad has like a 3.9999 GPA and won't be able to go to school...that's when he began smoking..."

"Go on..." I said to Michael.

"John, I knew you'd be here, and I know you always have some with you..." he said sheepishly. ""Don't be mad, okay?"

Mad? I was elated! There was now a tenable reason to be introduced to the boy without suspicion that my motive was for my own sexual satisfaction. Unwittingly, Michael made it that much easier for me to get into the little cutie's pants.

"Alright, I'm not mad..." I said to Michael, "...the boy's life has fallen apart -- I can sympathize. Go ahead, bring him over and let me meet him."

"Oh, that's great -- thanks, John!" Michael said enthusiastically.

I watched Michael lean over the boy and whisper in his ear. The boy's head snapped around to look at me. Did the little cutie blush when he saw me smiling at him?

Introductions were made and I sent Michael on his way.

"I understand you and I have something in common, Bradley," I said to him.

"Oh, uh, it's 'Brad' -- I prefer being called 'Brad'," he said softly.

"Oh, of course," I answered. "I just happened to have brought with me the finest weed I have ever smoked. Would you like to try it, Bradley?"

I stared into his beautiful, baby blue eyes waiting for him to respond. He ever-so-slightly nodded his head at me without saying a word.

I thought, 'Cutie-pie is a shy one...this boy is going to take some effort!'

"We need some privacy..." I abruptly announced rising from the table. I opened my bag and brought out a smaller one. "Come on and follow me, Bradley."

My back was to him but I heard him weakly say, "Uh, I prefer 'Brad.'"

Walking towards the gazebo I took note that not a single person was watching us. Why would they? Why should they care about Needledick following some old guy into the bushes? Hahaha....

On the other side of the gazebo was a wooden bench. It was protected by large shrubs and bushes to ensure privacy.

My prick began to stiffen when I sat down. I had many fond memories of the bench.

This was where Brian and I shared our first kiss. This was where I masturbated him for the first time. This was where I had convinced him sucking my cock didn't necessarily mean he was gay.

"So tell me about yourself, Bradley," I said to the boy as I reached into the bag.

"It's, uh, 'Brad'," he said.

"Of course," I replied.

"I understand you won't be able to go to the university in the fall, is that true?" I asked him.

"Well, uh, um...." mumbled the boy.

The boy was so tongue-tied I decided to fire-up the joint right away. I was hoping it would put him at ease and he'd be able to speak.

Five-minutes later I sat back with a smile on my lips as I listened to him talk...and talk...and talk.

I would ask a question and he would tell me everything he could. On my part I offered praise when it was called for...and sympathy and understanding when it was appropriate.

"Mister Evans, I really want to thank you for listening to me...I've been going on-and-on-and-on...." he said.

"Bradley, call me 'John' -- all my friends do!" I said.

He had stopped trying to correct me over his name.

The longer I had listened to him, the more I realized his non-stop talking was a form of therapy.

From what Michael had told me, and now Bradley himself, I had deduced the boy to be so lonely that he would even tell a man sixteen years older than he every little detail of his lonely and pathetic life.