Content/trigger warning: This series contains bullying, homophobic language, and non-consensual sexual acts, but they are integral to the plot and character development so please take them in context.
DUSTY
"Please... sir."
Two little words, but just saying them is like leaping off of a cliff into the unknown. No parachute, no idea if anything will slow my fall let alone catch me at the bottom, or if I'll wind up a broken jumbled up mess of blood and bones.
Why did I ask him to give me his piss again? And why did I give in to his commands? The relief of being given my life back with zero obligations after a long afternoon thinking my life was over, those hours of agony were like looking death in the face. But instead of death, I'm face to face with him, and this intense eye contact with him, like he can read my mind, the shining bright light in his hazel eyes... The deep desire to give into my curiosity, the deep need to find out more, experience more of what I'd only had a small taste of, literally... The stillness of the night, the darkness like a cover, like a secret invitation, telling me that just this one time, just this once, I can let myself be... free. Just this one time I can say, "Yes, I want this".
That "Please, sir", so hard to get out, but once it was out it felt so natural, so right. It doesn't make any sense. I'm the one who should be above him. In a flash in my mind I see that image from a week ago, that moment that awakened all of... this. I realize just now that the sight of him being covered in blood and my piss wasn't what set me off. All these revelations, all this wanting, it all came from looking down at him at that moment and seeing myself in his position. That I was the one who should be covered in blood and his piss. That I'm the weak one who deserves to be abused.
This man, so much more worthy of respect than me, for sure, but also more worthy than all my teachers, my coaches, even the preacher, even my daddy. All of those "yes, sirs", every one I've ever said up to now, those were all out of obligation, deferring to adults 'cause of their age and position instead of their true worth. I've seen their true natures and I've seen their lives full of pettiness, ego, hypocrisy. While this man has already seen me at my most vulnerable and stripped bare, and he's shown me mercy. Somehow instead of feeling looked down upon, weak, worthless, I feel... safe.
Obeying him actually makes perfect sense. He's the one who's so much better than me. He's the one who's strong, noble, good. This man has seen me at my absolute worst, been on the receiving end even, of all my explosive anger and just plain pointless meanness, and somehow he can still forgive me and still want me, or at least forgive me enough to give me what I want, what I need, in this moment, what I need more than anything else. Even if he wants it too, even if he's getting into this kinky ass shit too, it still amazes me that he would be able to see me in this different way.
That "Please, sir". That push from him to submit to his commands, that gentle push. No, I realize, not even a push. He... Jesse... He's not the bully I am. He let me decide. He just brought me to the doorway and invited me to step through and see what was on the other side. And he wouldn't have judged me if I'd pulled back. Well, I can't be sure about that, but when I said he's strong and decent and good, I meant it. He's like from another era, one where men and women had manners, were brave, he's noble, good, like a... like a gentleman. A Southern gentleman. Not showy, just proud, calm, and as strong and solid as an oak tree.
I'm only able to put all this into words looking back on it. Right now, all of this is rushing over me in a crazy quilt patchwork of impressions, but pretty soon all that gets swept aside and I'm distracted by him, Jesse, breaking our locked eyes by standing and starting to pull off his shirt over his head. "Take off your trunks," he says, his voice a little husky like he's holding himself back.
I'm still kneeling, but I quickly work my trunks down with both hands, my rock hard eight-inch cock getting pulled down by my trunks against my thigh before swinging free and up, standing straight out from my crotch like a damn flagpole. Jesse openly admires my body and cock this time, and I find myself blushing with a mix of pleasure and pride.
Soon it's my turn to admire, though, because his shirt is off and I'm seeing his slim smooth body again for the first time since last week. He hesitates for the briefest moment, and then his trunks are off in one movement and I can't help but catch my breath at the first sight of his cock. It's hard, like mine, and nearly as big as mine, maybe seven and a half inches, but it's noticeably thicker. Mine is a good thickness pretty much the same all the way down and paler than the rest of my body which has been out in the sun all summer, but his is a little darker than his body and gets slightly thicker as it gets to the base where there's a light set of dark pubes. I realize that he's uncut, which I haven't seen much before, and that he's pulled his foreskin back, and his cockhead has a big meaty mushroom head, more of a helmet on it than on mine. His dick is also veinier than mine. I'm almost calling it beautiful in my head, but I quickly squash that thought.
I immediately start salivating for the taste of piss and I'm feeling like a fucking dirty bastard, and I would be feeling more conflicted about that and trying to stifle that too if I weren't so damn horny.
