"What did you have in mind?" he asked timidly over his drink.
"I was thinking I'd make it a surprise," I replied.
He looked off into the distance and pondered a while. His name was Taylor and I'd been chatting him up for the last hour or so. We were sitting by ourselves in a booth at this bar, the name of which I hadn't bothered to commit to memory. I don't go prowling for guys very often. Usually they come to me. But this was a special case.
I was looking for someone young, impressionable, open-minded, and sexy of course, to satisfy my urge for narcissistic conditioning. At 21 years and 17 days old (he told me precisely as much; I didn't ask why he was counting), Taylor was just young enough to be open to suggestion while still knowing what he was doing. I estimated he was about 5'9" and 130 pounds. His modestly cute face and slightly grown jet-black hair in the emo style that's so popular these days comfortably satisfied the sexiness criterion. On his feet were well-worn low-cut black Converse sneakers, the kind of shoes you can smell just by looking at them.
He wasn't as extroverted as his attire would suggest. When I came up to him he seemed a little intimidated (not new for me), and it took him a while to start speaking to me in polysyllabic words, then complete sentences. But I'm nothing if not charming, and he soon warmed up to me well enough. We both knew where this was ideally going to go, so I wasn't shy about bringing up our prospects for the evening.
After a bit of casual prying I'd discovered he was very sexually adventurous, a necessity if I was going to convince him to do something most people consider to be disgusting or comical, if not both. He said he was into bondage, which didn't surprise me much given his dark attire laden with various metal accessories. Nothing extravagant; a belt holding up his jeans, a chain hanging out of his pocket that I assumed was attached to a wallet.
I'd mentioned to him that I had an extremely uncommon fetish, and that seemed to pique his interest. I decided not to tell him exactly what it was straight away; I wanted to get him into it in the heat of the moment, in an attempt to keep him from backing out. I thought if I told him right then that I wanted him to be obsessively sexually attracted to himself that he would probably walk away, a reaction to which I am certainly not accustomed.
He turned his head back around to me. "Alright," he said. "You've got me interested...and very curious."
We made our way back to my car. I hadn't been drinking that night, as I wanted the psychological advantage. As I drove us to my place, I dropped a few direct compliments here and there, hoping to stroke his ego in preparation for what was to come.
"You sure are a handsome one," I said, briefly turning my head to look at him.
He laughed quietly and blushed a little. "If you say so," he murmured.
Upon reaching our destination, I led him into my bedroom and sat on the bed, well-made. I laid back and relaxed as he somewhat awkwardly walked toward me.
"So when are you planning on telling me?" he asked. For all his meekness, he was being awfully anticipatory.
"In time, don't worry. For now why don't you keep things simple and get on your knees?"
If I didn't know any better, I'd think he'd forgotten all about my surprise by the look in his eye. He quickly did as he was told and began undressing my lower half. Pretty much every guy I get with is visibly grateful for having me, and Taylor was no exception. I was seriously looking forward to his reaction when he pulled out my huge dick.
"Oh my god," he said as he unzipped my pants and pulled out my nearly-hard eight inches. Taylor was my first lay in a while who hadn't seen my cock on the internet first. He stared at it reverentially for a few moments, slowly stroking it, seeing if he could make it even bigger. I was more than happy to oblige. I promptly became completely erect, and my nine inch dick stood beautifully in his hand.
"This is easily the biggest dick I've ever had my hands on," he said, a little short of breath.
"Yeah, I get that a lot," I responded, smirking at myself in the full-length sliding mirror door that concealed my closet to the side of the bed. Taylor was too wrapped up in my hard-on to notice. "Well, are you gonna put it in your mouth or just stare at it?"
Taylor's body jumped slightly, as if removed from a daze. He shook himself alert and immediately wrapped his lips around the head of my cock, getting the head and a small portion of the shaft wet and ready. Once he had me sufficiently lubricated, he began happily sucking up and down my dick, getting progressively deeper with every few bobs. He took in as much of it as he could, with both small, supple hands wrapped around the shaft. Taylor was an amazing cocksucker, and he was perfectly content servicing me for a good 15 minutes. He was so beautiful sucking me off, and I couldn't wait to make him understand just how beautiful he was.
I really couldn't wait.
"Alright Taylor, I think you're ready for your surprise."
He pulled his tight little mouth off of my dick with a loud pop. "Oh man, I can't wait," he said, breathing heavily after just giving one hell of a blowjob.
"Stand up," I said, and he gingerly, excitedly, got up off of his knees. I followed, pulling up my pants a little as I stood. "Now stand over there," I said, motioning toward the mirror on the wall. I followed him over to it and made a quick gesture toward his reflection. "Now look in there."
Starting to look confused now, Taylor nonetheless did as he was told and looked into the tall, reflective rectangle of glass. As he adjusted himself to this mildly embarrassing situation, I began my approach. "Taylor," I asked cautiously, "have you ever thought about how sexy you are?"
"Um, what do you mean?" he mumbled. His eyes veered toward my reflection, standing behind his.
"Have you ever looked in the mirror and really stopped to appreciate your gorgeous features?" I asked, as I began lightly stroking each of his slim, defined arms from behind.
"Uh...I don't know, not really. I don't think so."
"You're telling me you've never stopped and realized how incredibly gorgeous you are?"
"I...I don't..." His voice trailed off as his eyes went to the ground.
"Shh, shh, it's okay, just relax. Everything's alright, it's just you and me here." While I was largely trying to sway this boy for my sexual interests, I sincerely felt the need to comfort him as well. He was so vulnerable and helpless and beautiful. "Just you and me talking. Okay?"
"...Yeah." Back to single syllables again.
"Now, you can't tell me you don't even know how handsome you are."
His eyes stayed on the floor, and he pouted just slightly. He was quiet for a long moment. "I mean," he began hesitantly, "I know I look okay and everything but I don't stare at myself in the mirror or whatever."
"Why not?"
"I...because that's weird."
"I don't think it's weird."
He continued staring at the ground uncomfortably, apparently unsure of what to say.
"Come on," I said, trying to be encouraging, "you can't honestly tell me that when you look in that mirror you don't see an incredibly sexy young man." He wouldn't look, so I delicately grabbed him by the chin and pointed his eyes forward. "How many guys have you been with, Taylor?"
"A few," he muttered.
