Saturday, April 19, 2014

The Bohemians - (Continued)

The furniture store seemed a mere distraction as Kurt went through the motions of his day.  He could not stop thinking about what kind of "reward" the kid he watched at the bar last night was going to be given by the Bohemians.  He suspected that Max would not be the only guy doing the rewarding either.

His day seemed to drag on and on, and though his customers didn't seem to notice, he struggled with an on and off again erection through the day as the scene from last night played over in his mind.  He was fascinated how Max had taken control of the kid and how his severity seemed tempered with a good dose of common sense and care.  Max didn't want to hurt the boy. He wanted to use him for their mutual pleasure.

That was a skill Kurt wanted to hone.  He had dabbled with rough sex, both as a bottom and a Top, but the Top role was what gave him the most pleasure.  He liked being the motivator in a scene, the guy in charge, something far removed from his daily routine.  Here at the store, he worked for his customers, and though he gently nudged them toward the items that would bring him the most commission, he was still serving their best interests.

He daydreamed about being someone like Max, a full-fledged leatherman Top, a guy who could attract hot men like flies to sugar.  On his break he practiced his severe look in the mirror of the bathroom.  Imagining a cigar in his teeth, he looked at every angle of his face and worked to bring out the most sinister expression.  Still, it didn't work.  He just looked like a junior serial killer.  Eyes full of anger and his jaw set in a clenched pose.  That's when he realized he looks silly, and he started to chuckle.

And, that was when he saw it!  A leatherman, dressed in a white shirt and tie, but still the impression of one.  It was the smile that made it work.  Max took joy in what he was and what he did.  It wasn't all intimidation and cold calculated aggression.  The thing that made Max so attractive to bottoms was not just his physique, which was impressive, but his attitude. Confident, assertive and yet tempered with good natured humor. That was the key, and from that time forward, Kurt would remember not to take himself too seriously.

That night when he got back to his apartment, Kurt was so filled with pent up sexual frustration that he stripped off his clothes and grabbed an old issue of Drummer Magazine.  The pages worn from being thumbed through hundreds of times, he looked at some of the illustrations and grabbed his swollen cock.

The over exaggerated features of the men in the drawings emphasized their bubble butts and immense genitalia.  As he stroked himself he looked closely at the faces the artist had drawn.  All had an expression of not just sexual excitement, but smiles.  They were enjoying themselves even if it was forcing their partners to do things that might not seem pleasurable.  The guy with the round ass, getting fucked by the impossibly muscular cop was sweating, and grinning.  The cop chewed a cigar and smirked as he slapped the boy's ass leaving an illustrated hand print.

Kurt fell back on his bed and closed his eyes.  Suddenly he was that cop.  Dressed in leather, with a huge cock, he was splitting the ass of a bubble-butted blond boy. And he was laughing.  He slapped the boy's ass over and over as he fucked him.  Then pulling the boys hair, he pulled his huge cock from his ass with a pop and spun him around.  Pointing his pulsing dick at the boy's face he barked an order.
"Open your hole!"

The boy in his imagination responded dutifully and eagerly opened his mouth awaiting the reward.

Kurt held his throbbing cock pointed right at the blonde's face as he felt his orgasm building from deep inside him.  It rushed through his body, contracting his balls, pulsing his prostate, throbbing in his hand and exploding from his cock showering the blond man kneeling before him with hot sticky cum.

It seemed to last forever, and yet it was only a few seconds.  Finally he opened his eyes, expecting to see a handsome face, drenched in cum looking up at him.  Instead he saw the ceiling fan turning slowly over his bed.

He caught his breath as his cock deflated, but the vivid image was imprinted on his mind.  He would become that leatherman.  He knew what he wanted and it went beyond a jerk off fantasy.  He would someday wear that club patch on his back, and he and Max and his club brothers would share the kinds of scenarios that would become the stuff of other men's fantasies.

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