From A Jack To A Queen Ch 02

I lie in bed, eyes wide open, staring into the darkness; my mind a whirling kaleidoscope of images and colors. Mainly one image and one sensation: Fred's smile and the feel of his cock in my hand.

I had no doubt he was a 'special someone' but was he destined to be that 'someone' for me?

When he had used the exact same phrases I used and I blindly obeyed him up until his final command it was like I belonged to him. It felt natural to do his bidding. It thrilled me at the time but now I was confused and slightly uncomfortable and scared.

Who am I? I wondered.

Ever since I came out I have always been the aggressor—the 'top'. Boys would do whatever I said—not the other way around. I was always in control.

But tonight with Fred, I felt different when he made the demands. I actually wanted to please him. I wanted to make him happy.

It worried me though. Could I do everything for him I knew he would expect? Could I use my mouth and bottom to satisfy him after steadfastly refusing all other boys access? Could I find peace of mind if I became his 'bottom'?

My instincts are to rebel against anyone who 'orders me around', would I be able to accept his power over me? Could I submit to him at the expense of my own pleasure and ego?

It was getting late and I wasn't any closer to sleep. My prick had been stiff for some time remembering the feel of his cock and the smell of his semen. He had admonished me against masturbating, but how would he ever know if I played with myself?

I used the hand I used on Fred. I thought I felt it still tingling; when I wrapped my fingers around my now-aching prick jolts of electricity shot throughout my body. I fantasized about kissing and licking his magic cock.

My orgasm was quick and intense and I immediately fell into a deep, contented sleep.

I work at a book/art supply store near the university. My boss, Wesley, started the business 20 years ago and built it up into the most successful business of its type in the area.

Students purchase all their required books and supplies there, not to mention the following Wes has garnered through the years with the academic-types: professors, artists, writers, etc.

He hired me fresh out of high school, five years ago, and although I could have moved on to a better paying job, I felt a special bond and loyalty to Wes. He is somewhat of a mentor to me.

During slow periods he will pull me aside and show and teach me various aspects of the art world and art history. Wes is a fascinating and intelligent man. Even after work, over the years, he's invited me to special functions, dinners, concerts, sporting events—you name it—we've gone many places together.

I'm pretty sure he's gay, and maybe, possibly, he might be interested in me. I've heard 'comments' from his friends, chiding him about 'robbing the cradle' whenever we appear together at an event. He never seems to miss an opportunity when we're alone to put his arm around my shoulder or even stroke my back.

As much as I admire and respect him he is pretty old—he must be fifty—and although he has a wonderful personality and attitude, and it always makes me feel good whenever we are together, I've never looked at him as anyone other than my boss.

Wes was out of town on business so I concentrated hard on what I knew needed to be done. Aside from Wes, I'm the only one there who knows every aspect of the business. We have a total of ten sales clerks and me and Wes. So while the clerks take care of the customers, Wes and I perform all the behind-the-scenes duties.

I had to do the purchasing, payroll, and stock the shelves with the items we'd received on Friday so my day was full. I was glad: I didn't want to think too much about Fred, and if whether or not I was actually going to show up at the bar tonight.

I stayed busy up until 2 o'clock then I just finished up little odds and ends. That's when I couldn't keep from thinking about that night.

I didn't understand why I was so nervous about seeing Fred again. I was a free-man who possessed free-will—I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to do. I guess my dilemma was that I didn't know what-it-was that I wanted to do.

It came down to one question: Am I as open-minded and adventurous as I think I am?

When I got home after work I made a small supper and tried to eat in peace but my mind kept asking "Are you going there tonight?"

After washing the dishes, I checked the tv listings and saw there was nothing I wanted to watch—there usually wasn't—I watch very little tv.

For some reason, my hands began to tremble. I looked at the clock—there was one hour to go before Fred would be at the bar. Normally, I only showered in the morning but I made a quick decision and stripped and took a shower. The hot water felt comforting.

I dressed and drove to the bar. I figured it wouldn't hurt to see what Fred had to say.

The place was about half full and I saw Fred across the room at a pool table. He saw me immediately and smiled and waved; I waved to him and sat on an empty stool at bar.

I felt my heart pounding; that smile of his was so radiant and charming you couldn't help but feel good when he flashed it your way.

I ordered a glass of red wine and sipped it. To pass time and calm my nerves, my mind sang along with the music from the jukebox. It amazed me how I knew the words to all of the songs.

When I felt a strong hand caress my neck then down my back, I knew it was Fred. I hoped he didn't notice the shiver that ran up-and-down my spine.

"Hi Johnny, I 'm glad you came—you look especially hot tonight," he whispered in my ear as he sat on the bar stool next to me.

I felt myself blush. Those were the exact words I had used to different boys on many nights, but I had to admit they made me feel good and put me at ease.

"Hi Fred," I smiled back at him. I was stunned—he was so much better looking than I'd remembered. He seemed bigger than last night, too.

"So what do you think, Johnny—are you ready to try something new?" he asked in a calm, not-pressuring voice. "Or are you happy with just dominating the faggotty boys you pick up here?"

That was as blunt and direct as I'd ever heard. And I appreciated it, too. I didn't like to play games with people either.

I smiled and chuckled. "How do you know what type of boys I like?"

"I've watched you for a long time—I've seen how you operate," he said.

"I've never seen you in here before the other night," I countered.

"Sure you have," he said. "Remember the guy with the huge, bushy beard and moustache? The guy you wouldn't even give the time of day to?"

My eyes grew big. "That was you?"

"Yeah, I shaved it all off a week ago—I needed to for a job."

I studied him closely. Sure enough, I recognized him now.

He laughed and draped his arm around my shoulders. "Anyway, I don't think you're the boy you think you are...I think you dominate boys to try and hide your true feelings...I think deep down you are a submissive faggot just like the boys you pick up—you're too afraid to admit to yourself who you really are."

I felt my face redden. How could he say these things? He didn't know me.

"I'm not like that—I don't treat people that way," I protested.

"I'm not saying you treat boys badly...I'm saying you treat them as well as you need to in order to get what you want."

This was getting too heavy and intense for me. He seemed to be twisting words around and I couldn't keep up with him. I had to change the subject.

"W-Why do you want me? Revenge? Because I never paid attention to you?" I stammered.

That beautiful smile returned to his face. "No, nothing like that...I have heard you talk—I think you're very intelligent...you make people laugh—you're fun to be with...mostly though, you're one of the prettiest boys I've ever seen and my dick gets hard whenever I'm near you!"

I couldn't help but blush again. I don't take compliments very well.

There was a long silence. Fred ordered two more drinks for us.

Finally I asked, "Where do we go from here?—I mean, we both like the same things...."

He chuckled. "Okay, how about we shoot a game of pool and the winner gets...well, the winner gets whatever the winner wants."

"I dunno...you're a lot better pool player than I am," I protested.

"That's probably true," he agreed. "Okay, how about this: Larry the Bartender has a deck of cards behind the bar...we cut the cards—high card wins—no skill involved--strictly a game of chance?"

"So you won't mind being my 'bottom' tonight?" I smile.

He laughs. "Variety is the spice of life...you know damn well I'd be the best bottom you've ever had!"

We both laugh and sip at our drinks.

"Let's do it," I say.

Fred calls to the bartender, "Larry, my good man—a deck of cards, please!"

Fred shuffles the cards slowly. We stare into each others' eyes. My hands begin to tremble again.

When the cards are shuffled and the deck is sitting in front of us, I say to Fred, "Go ahead and cut the deck--age before beauty."

He smiles and says, "No, ladies first."

My face reddens yet again, and it's all I can do to get my fingers to firmly grip the cards. I cut about half-way into the deck then show us both the Queen of Hearts.

"OOhhh, very nice," Fred says. "That'll be tough to beat."

I have mixed feelings about cutting that card.

Fred fondles the cards, closes his eyes and then cuts the deck. He waits a few seconds before showing the King of Spades.

For some unexplainable reason, I feel relieved.

Fred smiles and leans over and whispers into my ear.

"Drink up cutie—we're going to my place and I'm going to make you my 'bitch' tonight!"

Right there, inside the bar, for all my friends and acquaintances to see, Fred claims his prize and takes my small hand in his and leads me out the front door. An adrenaline rush of fear and excitement raced through my veins. I had never felt so alive.

We stood beside his car in the parking lot. He took me in his arms, caressed my face and hair; he kissed me full on the lips. Our lips pressed tightly together. I welcomed his tongue inside my mouth. When he broke off the kiss my breathing was labored and I had an erection.

He opened the car door and motioned for me to get inside. Once seated beside him he turned and kissed me one more time then whispered in my ear.

"Open my pants and hold my balls in your tiny, girly-hand."

My cock throbbed in my pants. His command took my breath away. It never occurred to me not to obey him. I fumbled with his slacks then slid my hand beneath his boxer shorts. I gently held his heavy ball sac in my hand the entire ride to his apartment. His scrotum was smooth; his flesh was hot.

We were still inside his car after he parked at his building.

"Johnny," he said softly, "...my point has been made—you are a submissive—not a dominate man."

"I, ah...what do you mean?" I was confused.

"Would a dominate man hold another man's balls?"

Not in a million years, I thought to myself.

He held my hand again as we walked into his apartment building. I was beginning to enjoy the control he had over me.

I sat on a thick, rich leather couch while he poured wine for us. His apartment wasn't large, but it was tastefully furnished. Photographs and paintings were evenly spaced on the walls. They piqued my interest and I decided I would look at them closer when I had the opportunity to do so.

When he returned he sat close enough to me that our thighs touched. We both took large swallows of the wine. It was delicious.

He set his glass on a small table beside the couch and put his arm around. He took the glass from my hand and set that down as well. He put his arm around me and pulled me close to him.

"God, you're beautiful..." he said softly as he gazed into my eyes. "You have the prettiest blue eyes I've ever seen..."

I felt my heart leap with joy as our lips came together for a long, unhurried kiss. His lips were soft and pliant; we French-kissed until I began to see stars before my eyes.

He took my hand and placed it on the bulge in his slacks. I curled my fingers around his erection and slowly stroked it. His cock was blazing hot even through the fabric of his pants.

"I want to see you naked..." he said breathlessly. "Take your clothes off for me."

From that moment on my mind drifted on puffy, billowy clouds; I was in a dream-like trance that would last the rest of the night.

I removed my shoes and socks then he had me stand before him and strip off my clothes. I watched his eyes—they were wide with wonderment and appreciation. He repeated how beautiful I was and I felt beautiful. I was proud and thrilled to stand naked before him--my five-inch prick erect, and pointing straight at him.

He took hold of my penis and my body jerked and spasmed to the thrill of his touch. His fingers gently stroked my dick. My eyes glazed-over with desire.

"I want to be naked with you..." he whispered, once again staring into my eyes. "Would you help me undress?—take off my shoes and socks, okay?"

"O-Okay...." I said, my voice catching slightly in my throat.

I knelt on the carpeting and carefully untied his smartly-polished black shoes. I removed one shoe and stocking then the other. When I looked up he was stripping off his shirt. I drank in his finely sculpted chest.

From the position I was in, the bulge in his slacks seemed more pronounced, larger-than-life, his cock threatened to burst from his pants. I felt a deep need and hunger to free it from its confines and caress and fondle it.

"Open my pants, Johnny—open my pants and take down my slacks and underwear."

His words were music to my ears. He must have been reading my mind.

My hands and fingers were firm and steady as they opened his pants and pulled downward on his slacks and boxer shorts. I nearly swooned when his gorgeous cock sprang into view. I finished removing his clothes with my eyes fixed on his manhood.

Now this was a real cock, I marveled. Not at all like the puny thing I carried around.

"Get closer to it and breathe deeply through your nose..." he said, obviously aware of my fixed-stare on his prick.

His manly aroma filled my nostrils and invaded my head. I became intoxicated by his smell. I became dizzy and disorientated.

"Kiss it, Johnny—kiss the head then work downwards..." he whispered. "When you reach the base, kiss up to the head again—cover my cock with kisses, Johnny—press your lips to my cock."

I couldn't wait to feel his cockflesh on my lips. I kissed the glans then worked my way down his shaft.

"Johnny, open your eyes and look at my cock whenever you kiss and lick it, okay?"

"Okay...." I breathlessly replied.

When his cock glistened from my wet kisses he told me to use my tongue. I bathed his pulsating man-flesh with my eager tongue. The tip of my tongue traced a vein down-and-up. My ever-busy tongue made his cock throb and elicited groans of pleasure from deep within his throat.

"Johnny," he said, his breathing becoming labored, "...wet your lips and wrap them around the head—suck my cockhead into your mouth."

I took as much of his cock into my mouth as I could. My mouth stretched wide, I began to bob up-and-down on his cock.

"Use your tongue—your tongue should always be moving on my cock."

Where have I heard those words before? I briefly wondered. Oh yeah, I would say those same words to the boys I picked up.

All thoughts, ideas, preconceived notions and prejudices drained from my mind. I was fully and completely engrossed with the wonderful rod of flesh in my mouth.

Instinctively, I held and fondled his balls in one hand while I stroked his shaft with the other. I knew deep-down what made for a great blowjob and I was bound and determined to give him a shattering, mind-numbing orgasm.

When I became accustomed to his size, I fell into a steady rhythm of sucking-and-stroking.

His hips began a series of small, upward thrusts pushing his cock deeper into my mouth. His cockhead banged against the back of my throat, but instead of gagging, I tried hard to welcome his cock into my throat. This caused him to cry out and his hips jerked and pumped wildly forcing his cock deeper-and-deeper.

Suddenly, I felt his balls contract in my hand and felt the first salvo of his cum shoot into my waiting mouth.

"OH-MY-GOD—OH-MY-GOD—OH-MY-GOD...." he shouted his pleasure.

Thick streams of cum erupted from his cock and filled my mouth. I swallowed as much as I could but much of it dribbled down my chin back onto his cock and balls.

When his spasms subsided, his deflating cock slid from my lips. Without being told, I licked and cleaned his cock and balls of cum I had failed to swallow. All the while I heard him mumbling as he patted my head and stroked my hair.

When his breathing returned to normal he asked: "Johnny, do you still think you're a 'top'?"

And for the first time in my life I came face-to-face with my true sexuality. "No, I am not," I quietly replied. I felt a warm glow inside me knowing I finally admitted the truth.

I won't bore you with the graphic details of the remainder of that night, but I will say that Fred certainly followed through with his earlier promise of "...making me his 'bitch'."

When we moved to the bedroom and he had me kneel between his wide-spread thighs, my lips and tongue explored regions of his body where I had never imagined my lips and tongue would go.

When I begged him to allow me to orgasm he asked: "Did you masturbate last night?"

My face went white and I lied, "N-No—no I didn't!"

He smiled and said, "You're lying to me."

How did he know? I wondered.

I sheepishly admitted I did lie. He asked me if I thought I deserved to be punished for lying and all I could say was "Yes...yes, I deserve to be punished."

Fred sat on the side of the bed and made me lie across his lap. His big hand came down hard on my bottomcheeks. He was very thorough. He spanked me until I had tears in my eyes then he had me kneel between his legs and pleasure him with my mouth.

A while later, after I had roused him to a full erection once again—he took my virginity.

He was extremely gentle with me. He coated my hole and his cock with oil, and worked his fingers in-and-out of me until my hole was stretched-open enough to take his beautiful prick. He had me stand by the side of the bed and bend over.

He told me to reach back and I grasped his cock and placed his glans against my anus. Then he ordered me to push my hips backwards, and in reality, I de-flowered myself.

It was a strange and thrilling sensation to feel a man's burning rod enter my rear. I fought hard to ease my sphincter and I felt I had gained some sort of victory when his cock was buried all the way inside me and I felt his pubic hairs pressed against the soft flesh of my bottomcheeks.

It was uncomfortable at first, even painful at times, but he went slowly, and my rectum gradually became accustomed to his length and girth.

I began a slow fucking motion, impaling myself over-and-over on his manhood until the cum in my balls began to boil.

By this time, I was delirious with unbridled lust. I was moaning and panting and begging for release. Each thrust of his manly weapon brought "OOOO's" and "AAAHHHH's" from my mouth. When I couldn't wait any longer, I took hold of my throbbing cock with my own hand.

"STOP IT! DID I SAY YOU COULD PLAY WITH YOURSELF FAGGOT?" he shouted.

The harshness of his voice startled me. I immediately removed my hand from my prick. I felt like a naughty child caught doing something forbidden.

"Your man is in control of your pleasure...he will tell you what you are allowed to do and when to do it!"

I whimpered with frustration but immediately removed my hand from my cock.

A short time later Fred reached around me and took hold of my prick--I nearly jumped out of my skin from his touch.