There are some moments when a man must ponder his life. I'm certainly lucky, and I feel my luck daily- somehow, karmically, I think to maintain this great lucky streak I need to constantly remind myself how exactly I got here.
I'm speaking specifically about my relationship with my boyfriend, Trent. We are certainly a couple of contrasts. I'm a bit smaller, a bit more petite, a little more iberian in my skin and hair tone- he's a giant, small-town football player all-American type. Blonde hair and blue eyes and shy grin. I've known him since high school, and he's certainly one of the most loyal and devoted partners anyone could ask for. I see in the eyes of my friends, regardless of their gender or sexual orientation, that they desire him, or at least appreciate his image. My domestic, masculine, beautiful, deferrant and respectful, socially adept and just slightly sassy partner in life. What most of them don't know is that I actually crafted this image. Like an artist with a wet lump of clay, every appealing aspect of this man was lovingly hand-crafted by me through a process of dedication and skill, and a bit of luck.
I met him when we were young, both just 18, and about to graduate school and attend a local community college. He was straight, back then. He still is straight, at least he says, when I bother to ask him how he feels about things. A defensive end on the football team, member of a regional championship winning group of boys. He'd probably never noticed me before, I was just a young slender effete boy who existed at the very edge of his social sphere. I knew some girls who had slept with him, who swore by his tender, masculine affections. They claimed he had a giant cock, and strong, rough hands, which could bring any girl to her knees in seconds. They were charmed by his simple, well-meaning personality, which concealed a sort of animal intelligence that could only be perceived through his strategic decisions on the field and in a few of his classes. The boy was simply not manipulative, and didn't worry too much about the ulterior motives of others. The world had been kind to him. I would be kind to him, too, but first he would have to earn my kindness.
I made my move at a graduation party at a mutual friends' parents' house. He'd had a few beers, I'd had a few beers. Experimentation at this age is common. We made out in my shitty old 90s stick shift car. I was bursting from my pants and, when I reached over to his crotch, found he was still quite limp.
"Sorry," he said at the time. "I guess I'm not all that into this. You're really nice though, thanks for trying this out with me."
I laughed, and said "no big deal, it happens. Hey, before you go- do you think you could help me with this? I know you're not into it but it would be really hot for me if you'd just suck my cock for a second."
He contemplated for a second and then shrugged. "Sure!"
I unzipped my dick, which was not all that big or impressive, and gently pulled his face down onto it. He tentatively licked it while I jerked off, and came quickly onto his face.
"Whoops. Let's get that off of you."
I gingerly cleaned his face with the paper towels and sent him on his way.
By sheer happenstance, we ended up at the same school. He pursued engineering while I pursued business. Despite the awkwardness of our initial encounter, we still managed to get along, and became friends after a few weeks at school. One evening, after a few beers back at my place, we talked about our last hook-up.
"Yeah I don't know," he said, "I'm pretty sure I'm straight. Like, I can appreciate that you're a good looking person in a general sense, but I don't think I'm attracted to men in a sexual way. Like, giving you that blowjob-"
He broke off his statement and I laughed.
"You call that a blowjob? You just licked my cock a little bit. You're lucky I was so turned on having you to myself or I probably wouldn't even have cum."
He looked down, turning red.
"Well, I didn't get turned on with the blowjob per se, but after I went home the thought of sucking your dick just because you wanted me to, I felt so dirty that I got really hard and jerked off like three times. I think I might just like doing stuff that I don't like to do, if that makes sense."
I had sensed this in him all along, and it's why I put so much effort into our friendship to begin with. I knew this was my chance.
"Oh, it makes sense. You're a submissive. Doesn't make you gay or straight or anything, you just know that you're supposed to be used by others, and you know a man could use you best. Here, let's try something. Kneel down."
The color which had previously darkened his pale, scandinavian complexion drained away, but he did as he was told. A true sub. I was almost giddy, but restrained my emotions and said.
"Just lick my shoe. That's all."
He leaned forward and started licking my black leather oxford, which was relatively clean.
"You like this?"
He grunted an affirmative, and I pulled my shoe away.
"OK, so you're probably turned on right now. Why don't you jerk off for me, I think you're going to like it."
As if in a trance, clearly deep in whatever part of his mind led him to be such an easily molded toy by me, he unstrapped his thick leather belt and pulled down his blue jeans. His cock was about seven inches, cut, with a petal-pink head proudly standing forward. He was rock hard and already glistening with precum. I took my shoe off.
"OK. Sit back on your heels, I'm going to put my foot on your face. You can jack off and cum. Just see it as me returning the favor."
I watched him jerk it, waiting for a precise moment. He didn't lick my feet, just held them on his face. He was starting to kiss them, and the precum was flowing freely, when I could tell he was in the final stages of his masturbation and getting ready to blow his load.
"Hold on. I want you to suck my cock. Can you kind of take it in and suck it this time?"
He was too turned on to say no. I started gently but progressed to fucking his face while he jerked off- thankfully I was too turned on to last very long, and I came in his mouth. He held my cum in his mouth for a little while, cutely wondering what to do with it. I laughed, and said "go ahead and swallow it." As he did, he came a massive load onto the floor.
"Let's get that cleaned up," I said, and fetched some paper towels from my kitchen.
This progressed over the years, eventually to an outside eye it would appear that we were dating. Few knew that my naturally sadistic and manipulative nature were the key to this straight boy's heart. I kept things sweet for the first few months, letting him think that his acts of submission, licking my feet and sucking my cock, were favors I was doing for him, rooted in my unique understanding of his submissive nature. I helped him progress to deep throating and toe sucking by every once in a while diminishing his opinion of his skills, letting him know that he was not measuring up. Whenever he expanded his repertoire, he came especially hard. I also encouraged him to start lifting more and eating more healthy, lean protein- increasing his muscularity bit by bit thanks in part to his dedication and in part to the massive testosterone clearly latent in his early-twenties frame. I was more into cardio.