My Fantasies Ch. 10
by BJ Michaels
The Saddest Three Words
I parked in darkness across the street from the apartment building and saw his lights were on thru the curtains but I couldn't work up the nerve to go inside.
I was paralyzed with fear and doubt...mainly fear - okay, it was ALL fear. I had no doubt whatsoever about wanting to have homo sex with him again, but was petrified of what might happen if I let down my guard...he might, you know, turn me into an actual homo....
The more I thought about that night the harder my dick became. I had crossed the rubicon. I can no longer claim I'm simply experimenting with homo sex -- that it doesn't mean a thing - that I'm just curious about it...no, I cannot honestly say that anymore.
My blinders were crushed and destroyed the night when I stroked him to climax and I had an orgasm so powerful I almost passed out. As the song goes, "I can see clearly now...."
There is no easy way to say this but it's time to confront the ugly truth head-on so here goes: I think I'm a faggot -- a fruit -- a fudge-packer...I think I am one of those guys I used to point at and laugh and call them names whenever I spotted one.
What's worse is I'm not even a manly faggot, no, I'm the lowest of the low -- I'm one step away from being a woman...yup, I get off on being USED by manly faggots...dominated by them -- under their complete control...at least that's the kind of sissy-boy I am in my fantasies when I jerk-off every night.
As I stared at his window the battle inside me raged. I want to go inside -- I really do, but how could I ever look my friends in the eyes again and still insist I'm NOT a homo?
Gimme a break, John, I argued with myself, you've been lying to your friends so long I'm pretty sure they already know you have sugar in your pockets...haven't you seen them all roll their eyes whenever you blurt out, "I'M NOT GAY"?
I checked my phone -- 10:45 -- he'll be going to bed soon. If I don't make my move now I'll miss out again.
I suddenly hear my girlfriends voice in my head:
"Are you sure you're not gay?" she asked me the night she broke up with me. "You know, Johnny, being gay is nothing to be ashamed of -- it's not your fault you like sex with guys more than girls -- you were born that way!"
I regret how enraged I became when she said that to me. "I'M NOT GAY...HOW CAN YOU ACCUSE ME OF SUCH A TERRIBLE THING?"
I looked at the time and saw I'd been sitting in my car for an hour.
"He's going to bed real soon, John, if you don't go upstairs you're gonna miss out again," I told myself.
My blood began to run hot. My hands shook and my heart was in my throat. I reached to open the car door then suddenly his apartment lights went out. I'd waited too long again.
I started the car and took one last glance at his window and said out loud, "Maybe tomorrow night...."
28 Steps
His indifference is infuriating. He acts like I need him more than he needs me. I'm the one who initiates our meetings -- I'm the one who drives five-miles to his building and I'm the one who has to climb those damn 28 steps to knock on his door.
It gets even more frustrating when he opens the door a crack and peers at me as though he has no idea who I am. He gives me a disinterested grunt and just stands there until I have to ask him to let me inside. I can hear two men huffing and puffing on television so I know he's watching gay porn again.
He stares down at my feet. That's his way of telling me to take off my shoes and socks.
I go to the kitchen to uncork the wine I brought. As usual there are no clean glasses so I rinse out a couple of the least offensive ones and fill them half way.
When I turn and see him on the sofa he has already stripped-off his shirt and slacks and wears only boxer briefs. So much for any pretense of romance. He takes the two glasses from me and glares at me expectantly. I quickly remove my shirt and slacks.
I sit beside him in my yellow, string bikini briefs across from the disheveled double bed. We watch the two guys going at it on television.
The room being small, we sit sideways to the tv at the end of the sofa and have to turn our heads to watch. He is closest to the tv which enables me to not only watch the screen, but also sneak glances at the crotch of his thin boxer briefs for signs of his arousal.
I'm beginning to like his very small studio apartment. It's warm and cozy and everything is close by...but if I lived there, I'd take a vacuum to the floor once-in-a-while and maybe throw a blanket over the bed to cover-up the who-knows-how-old, crusty semen splotches.
Just like the last two nights, with his eyes fixed on the television, he reaches towards me and finds my hand and places it high on this thigh. I slowly caress his hot flesh back-and-forth watching the lump in his shorts gradually grow into a manly hardness poking out the thin material. It takes my breath away again.
My own prick stiffens to its full four-inches inside my briefs and like before, he shows no interest whatsoever in touching my boner...but I understand now how truly selfish this guy is so I don't expect him to reciprocate. I was there for HIS pleasure only!
He swivels his head towards me and gives me 'that look.' I have become good at comprehending his nonverbal commands so I slide my hand beneath the waistband of his shorts and wrap my smallish hand around his hot and pulsating manly cock.
Oh-gawwwd, the heat and texture of his hot pole of flesh almost makes me cum inside my string, bikini briefs like I did last night. I do my best to shut out my excitement and concentrate solely on his.
His upper body suddenly pivots towards me and my heart flutters thinking he's going to take me in his arms, but no, he simply lifts his lower body off the sofa and gives me 'that look' so I yank down his shorts exposing his hard, manly prick to my hungry eyes.
Oh-gawwwd, there it is again - it is soooo beautiful....
I close my hand around his hot boner and begin masturbating him but he stops my arm. I give him a hurt, quizzical look and he presses a finger to my mouth and moves it slowly back-and-forth across my slightly parted lips.
Yes, I am new to homo sex, but I instinctively know what the finger rubbing my lips means.
My heart races as I think, 'It's now or never, John, what are you going to do? You didn't climb those 28 steps to simply feel his cock in your hands again, did you?' But then I tell myself if I go thru with this I am no better than those fags, fairies and sissies I watch online - 'I'll become one of THOSE guys....'
I think to myself: I've got news for you, John - you already ARE one of those guys!
My heart pounds harder and faster as I take a deep breath, moisten my lips with my tongue and slide them over his bulbous, purple cockhead. I involuntarily moan at the softness and heat from his hard, manly penis.
***
I climb those 28 steps three, sometimes four nights a week. He makes me do unspeakable things for him -- homo things. If I utter the slightest protest he barks "GET OUT" and that is threat enough to ensure my cooperation and obedience.
I tell myself I'm not really a faggot, that I'm just experimenting and when the right girl comes along I'll go back to hetero sex...of course you will, snarls my sarcastic alter ego.
I begin counting on the first step up to his apartment. 'One -- two -- three -- four...' and by the time I reach 28 my throbbing boner has leaked so much pre-cum a silver-dollar sized wet spot has formed on the front of my slacks.
A Nice Night with Billy
I have this little problem and it's kinda embarrassing: I have to wear women's panties all day long now instead of only at bedtime...actually, I have TWO problems - the other one is named Billy...he's the little prick who discovered my lingerie fetish and is demanding I pay a steep price for his silence. If I don't masturbate him whenever he wants he will blab my humiliating secret to all our friends and I'll be the laughingstock of our small town.
I don't know how he did it, but the little asshole planted camera's in my bedroom and he's got a boatload of incriminating photos of me wearing bras and panties and garter belts and nylon stockings and sheer negligees and babydoll nighties, and oh yeah, I almost forgot -- he now has photos and even a video of me playing with his dick and massaging his balls -- I am DOOMED!!!
***
Billy is being nice to me tonight. He didn't even make me jerk him off before we went out to dinner. He was smiling and witty and funny and the steak and lobster were delicious, but I had an uneasy feeling the whole time...Billy isn't nice to anyone unless he wants something in return.
Afterwards, in the front seat of his car he tells me to sit beside him and I think, 'Okay, here it comes -- he's gonna demand homo sex from me again!'
I was just grateful it was dark outside so no one would be able to see me stroking his dick.
It surprised me though when he blurted out, "Open my pants and take out my cock!"
WHOA -- where did THAT come from? The meek little twerp has never talked that forcefully to anyone much less me!
It's okay, I thought, I'll play along. He did buy me a nice dinner after all.
My heart leaped in my throat when he sprang a boner while I opened his slacks. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a fagboy like he is, but doesn't everyone experience a certain thrill when they're able to sexually arouse another person?
Like the other times, I fondle and caress his balls with my right hand and begin jerking him off with my left. His balls feel unusually heavy tonight.
He immediately stops me and says, "You're already pretty good with your hands -- it's time to break in your mouth!"
Huh? WHAT? The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight in shock and fear.
"No-no-no-no," I protest, "that's not part of our deal -- you said I wouldn't have to do that if I jerk you off whenever you want!"
In the darkness I hear his smug voice say, "I lied -- so sue me!"
***
I'm not sure what's worse: Is it when he crudely orders me to go down on him or when he's cumming in my mouth and yells out loud "SWALLOW IT, BABY -- SWALLOW IT ALL?"
No, I know what's worse: it's when he makes me watch the full videos of me sucking him off and he won't let me look away. I simply cannot explain the blissful, dreamy expression on my face as I eagerly slide my lips up-and-down his beautiful, manly cock.
Self Awareness
"All ya gotta do is give Eddie a handjob after your photo shoot -- that's all -- no other homo stuff, I swear!" said Little Larry trying to convince me to model for his boss, a professional photographer.
