I think any gay guy will agree that one of the greatest sexual kicks you can get is when you avail yourself of the unavailable. There’s a lot of prime steak out there on the human meat market. Too often, though, it’s stored away under the counter where you can’t see it, or on the top shelf where you can’t reach it. Worse still, it may be in the ice box so you have to spend a lot of time thawing it out, always supposing you can get your hands on it in the first place. I went through so much of every cut, on and off the bone, in my late teens and early twenties that I almost turned vegetarian and started banging girls.
Although I must admit I’m straying a little from the true facts here, in that I actually got myself involved in the threesome as I wanted to get my hands on the lady’s husband. My dick was a key that opened many doors, but his had banged shut in my face on far too many occasions. He was the manager of a strip joint where girls and boys pole danced and lap danced, and also led you a dance as they did everything except let you touch or kiss them. I know because I was one of them for nearly three years, six sordid nights a week, and Max had watched me most of those nights. He was straight, or so they said, and he was also straight off the cover of a Men’s Health magazine. He could easily have made a fortune as a soap opera star or a porno star or a male escort, but I guess he was making too much damned dough running the club, together with one or two other similar establishments he had invested in. Besides he never mixed business with pleasure, although when you find yourself in this business of simulated sex and dishonest orgasms, you can become very jaded very soon and often live a quieter life than a cloistered nun when you’re off duty. It also does a great deal of damage to your dignity as you’re forced to offer your g-stringed dick or pussy as a sexual money box for men and women, old and young, to stuff dollar bills into.
Anyway, as I said, I’d been working there for nearly three years and making a mint of money as I was one of Max’s Maximum Men, and he rented me out for “special occasions.” I’d shake my butt at private parties and wiggle my dick in clients’ faces and drive them absolutely wild as I have what they call a drop dead gorgeous body and a to-die-for face. But business was business, and we boys, and girls, were only allowed to go so far and no further. If we went further for that little bit of extra money, we lost our jobs. However, money is the root of all evil and, as they say, some people would even sell their mother for a buck, so I ended up in a million buck threesome with Max’s wife and a Greek guy who was richer, and older, than Cressus. It was a bit like that Robert Redford/Demi Moore film and equally indecent. I think Max must have been going through severe financial difficulties to even consider such a thing, although now in retrospect I’m so glad he did, for it changed my life.
He called me into his office and explained the ‘delicate’ situation. It seems that the old Greek had set his beady eyes on Silvia in the club and had made an offer to Max, not realizing that the girl in question was his wife. The more Max protested, the more the Greek increased the offer, until they arrived at some phenomenal figure. Max finally agreed on the condition that there was a third person present. Since I was the hottest male number in the club, and Greeks are famous for fucking everything in sight, including goats, he suggested me. I didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. Anyway, the old lecher had accepted and Max told me it was up to me to create a diversion, even if that meant sucking him, or fucking him, or taking it up the ass, or whatever. I just had to stop him from going all the way with Silvia. He, too, made me an offer I couldn’t refuse plus an extra bonus. “What kind of bonus?” I asked. “Anything within reason,” he said. “Absolutely anything that’s within my power to give you.” I looked him straight in the eye. “You realize you’re asking a lot of me, don’t you?” I said. “You know I’m putting myself on the line for you.” He looked straight back at me, and said, “Anything you want. I’ll do it.” I knew then that he understood exactly what I was talking about and that I hadn’t been wrong in wondering why he was always out there watching me strut my stuff.
Well, I’ll skip all the sleazy details as to how the three of us fucked through the night to leave you some energy to hear about my ‘bonus’. Suffice to say it was literally a hairy experience and very, very difficult, tortuous and disgusting. Of course Silvia and I had age on our side and both of us had been very well schooled as to how to make a client think he was getting more than we were actually giving him. I did have to suck his dick and take it up the ass, and I couldn’t keep him from pawing Silvia, sucking her tits, sticking his tongue down her throat and making himself generally loathsome, but he didn’t actually get his dick inside her. I saw to that. The pair of us plied him with so much really vintage champagne that he eventually passed out and, when he woke up, his dick was so limp he was convinced he had fucked her. So all was well, Max got his money and so did I. Then I had the longest shower ever, gargled with the strongest mouthwash I could find, washed my ass out with disinfectant and looked forward to my bonus. By some perverse coincidence, next day was my birthday. Max invited me into his office, shook my hand and thanked me profusely for the help I’d given him. It was just as if we were celebrating a successful business deal we’d concluded together. When I informed him that it was my birthday, he told me to skip work that evening, since he was inviting me out to dinner. He did me proud. Took me to one of the best restaurants in town and wined me and dined me like I was his most important client. It was great.
All in all we had a very pleasant evening, and in three hours got to know each other better than in three years. Still, I was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that maybe this was my bonus and he hadn’t really understood me at all. Not to worry. He paid the check and asked for a cab. Then he took me to a luxury penthouse apartment and fucked the ass off me without saying another word. No preliminaries. No foreplay. Not even happy returns of the day. Just trousers off and dick in. But I’m pleased to say it was the beginning of a very special friendship, as we met often and I became his regular bum boy. Nobody ever knew. Not even his wife. My birthday bonus gave me infinitely more pleasure than the wad of money he’d handed me after that hateful night.
The great consideration he showed me made me feel like a lord rather than a sex slave, because sex slave was what I eventually became. We worked out his fantasies together, and I got to do all those things I used to scoff at. Such as dressing up in leather and whipping him, or being handcuffed to the bed as he fucked me and sometimes whipped me. Once he stood on the bed high above me, masturbated all over me and I opened my mouth to drink his creamy cum drops as they rained down upon me. And of course the more we did these things and the more daringly creative we became, the more attached we got to each other. Literally, sometimes.
Our sexual relationship was continuously evolving until, after a month together, he stopped being Mr. Macho Man and let me fuck him. I’m proud to say I drove him delirious as I marvelled at the fact that I was inside my boss’s butt, he was completely at my control, and entreating me to suck his tits. That was a little difficult at the time as I was fucking him from behind, but I managed somehow to get him on his back, then suck his juicy cherries, lick between his pecs, work his dick and spit into his mouth. I fucked him at the same time until we were both in a lather of sweat, slipping and slithering to a climax when I got a bonus dose of his creamy cumdrops.
So for a while he became my bum boy, and we did things to each other that no adult movie would ever dream of. Yet in the club we were as formal and cold to each other as before, and nobody would ever have imagined what our relationship really was. Not that we really knew ourselves, since it was constantly changing. Of course his wife was beginning to complain that she didn’t see enough of him, and maybe didn’t get very much off him either, as I absorbed all his energy. Before long I had to leave the club, since I was always skipping nights in order to fuck him or be fucked by him. He pretended to make a scene and bawled me out in front of everyone, so I told him to go fuck himself and stormed out. I got a real kick out of that. If only they’d known the real meaning of those words and where I’d stormed off to. His penthouse.
So then I became his kept bum boy. I moved into the penthouse and waited for him to bring me breakfast in the morning and champagne at night. Strangely enough, neither of us got tired of the sex games, or of each other. The only problem was that we couldn’t go out to dinner any more or be seen in public, but not even that seemed to matter. We conversed incessantly, especially when we were in mid-fuck, and we’d turn each other on by relating our frustrated fantasies about each other. He told me how he’d lusted for me as he watched me bumping and grinding in front of the clients, and that his coldness to me had been just a cover to disguise his true feelings. I told him what a dickhead he was, how I had undressed him with my eyes every time I saw him and then tried to undo his shirt mentally to see his body. I told him how much I wanted it to be him dancing half naked in front of me and to feel the heat of his dick as I thrust the money deep into his wad of a pouch.
I also told him of how I used to cum at night, grasping my throbbing dick and imagining myself thrusting it into his alabaster butt as if it were hard cash. He said how excited he’d felt when I’d talked about my bonus without saying what it was I wanted, when he knew all the time. I told him how gracious he’d been taking me out to celebrate my birthday, how impressed I’d been by the consideration he showed me and how scared I was to think that the dinner was maybe my birthday bonus. He confessed his shame for what he had put me and Silvia through just for the sake of filthy lucre, and I smiled wickedly and said,” It paid for the penthouse, didn’t it?” He blushed because his wife didn’t know anything about the penthouse.
We talked and fucked, and fucked and talked until at last we realized we were in a real fucking relationship. We communicated so well, orally and anally. Of course there were moments of panic when I feared we’d talk and fuck ourselves dry and then I’d have to leave the penthouse and he’d go back to his wife. But another year went blithely by and we were still together. Max had left his wife, or rather she’d left him, and he decided to officially “come out” so we could go out and celebrate my twenty fifth birthday. The world took on new meaning although I felt a little bit guilty about stealing him from Silvia, but that’s life I suppose. We had oysters and all sorts of good things for my birthday and his “coming out.” He kissed me in front of everyone in the restaurant and handed me a small box with a silver key. The key to his new club. He smiled and told me he was tired of keeping me as his bum boy and that I had to go to work as manager of the new club which was to be called the Double B. Only he and I knew that stood for Birthday Bonus. Looking back at it all, I must say I’m almost grateful to that decrepit old Greek for making it all possible. I mean it was he that helped me attain the unattainable and avail myself of the unavailable, wasn’t it? To be continued. I hope.
The Badpuppy.com model in these pictures is Bo Dennis
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