This story is the long awaited sequel to 'Pony Boy' and, if you haven't read that, then please do so first. Quite a bit of the story refers back to events in the first part and it won't make much sense if you read them out of order.
And, of course, there are the usual disclaimers; anyone involved in sexual acts is over eighteen and we're all fictional.
Chapter 02 - Back to the Races
It was well gone noon when I finally woke after a fitful night's, or should that be morning's sleep. I made my way to the bathroom and started on my morning ablutions. My backside was sore where the 'tail' had been but it was nothing compared to how tender my balls were. I sat on the toilet, gently recuperating and thought back over the previous evening.
What had I got myself into! How naïve had I been to somehow think that all I would be doing was a little 'pony' racing. I had never dreamt that I was, effectively becoming a rent boy for the night. So much for Mr H's promise that I wouldn't have to get involved in more than 'a certain amount of groping'; I had both given and received blow jobs. What's more, I had had some vision of the punters as dirty old men in raincoats, creepy but hardly threatening. The reality had been a massive wake up call. Arthur and his friends had been bad enough but Archie was positively terrifying.
Still, it didn't really matter. I had survived and I was still in one piece, just. I would never want to do it again, whatever the cash on offer. Honest I wouldn't, honest!
But, as I thought over the things I had done I found that, despite the bruised and battered state of my balls, I was getting hard. Whether I went back or not, there were some aspects of what had happened that had shaken my concept of what I was and what I wanted. Take, for example, when I had been sat on Arthur's lap, playing the moxie. When he had slid his hand up my thigh and into my shorts I had been genuinely excited. As he had played with my prick I hadn't had to fake my response and, when I had kissed his nipple, for all that he had been a fat, ugly, slob, it had thrilled me as much as him.
And then, on my knees, being abused by Si, that had touched a nerve deep, deep inside me. By rights I should have been appalled. I had been tricked, hoodwinked, into a position where I was forced to give complete strangers blow jobs and yet, and yet, even now I could feel his prick filling my mouth and hear the words he used. Why did it thrill me so? Why did I ache to do it again?
In fact the whole pony boy experience had been so, so far from what I had expected. Andy had suggested that it was just young men parading around naked for the sexual gratification of dirty old perverts. What I hadn't bargained on was finding myself just as aroused as the 'perverts'. What did that make me?
Just thinking about what I had done was making me hard and I ended up gingerly stroking my prick but my balls were far too sore and I had to stop. Aroused or not, I wasn't going to be doing any wanking for a day or two. What's more, the day was fast slipping away. I had already missed the two lectures I had set for that morning, and, academically, I had nothing else in my diary. Part of me just wanted to go back to bed but Mr H still owed me money and, for that, I needed to go to his office. I wondered what he had meant by 'we have to talk'. That's never a phrase that bodes well. I gave myself a lick and a promise, scraped a razor over my face, got dressed in the loosest pair of sweatpants I could find, bunged on a tee shirt and went down to my car so as to drive to the Acme East offices.
"Hello, Ben! How's the old meat and veg?" Tracy said as soon as I entered.
I must have looked blank, I certainly felt it.
"Meat and veg? Family jewels? Your balls, sweetie, your balls. From what I heard Archie did quite a job on you. That'll put a stop to your wanking for a day or two."
I just blushed, much to Tracy's amusement.
"Is Mr H...?" I asked.
"Hang on," she said before pressing a button on her phone.
"Harold," she said when it was answered. "There's a young man with a squeaky voice come to see you. Yeah, that's the one. OK, Will do." She turned back to me. "Go on through, darlin', go on through. He's expecting you."
I went through to the back office and there was Mr H behind his desk.
"Well, if it isn't my little pony. Which one are you, I wonder, Fluttershy, maybe?" he laughed. "How's the balls. Drop the keks and show Uncle Harold."
I nearly protested but, let's face it, he'd already seen it all and more and it was a bit late for modesty. I sighed deeply, undid the drawstring of my jogging bottoms and pushed them, along with my boxers, down to my knees.
"Come here, sonny, I can't see from over here."
Waddling somewhat with my trousers around my ankles I made my way over to the side of his desk. He beckoned me closer until I was standing right next to him. He reached down and, quite gently, gave them a feel. Even so I winced at the touch.
"Have you taken a piss yet? How was it?"
"I had one this morning, Mr H. It was fine," I replied.
"No blood in the urine?"
"No, none at all."
"You're OK. Just a bit bruised. Go and see a doctor if you want but he won't tell you anything different. Take it easy and you'll be fine by the day after tomorrow. Now, pull your pants up and take a pew."
I did as I was told and, as I was getting organised, he opened his desk drawer and pulled out a cash box and a note book.
"First things first; let's get the cash sorted. Now, let me see," he said looking through the notebook. "Turning up, that's eighty, three races in the main event, that's another sixty which makes ton forty all together. Then there's the two hundred for winning a post meet race plus tips totalling forty, sixty, ton twenty, ton sixty, ton eighty, two forty, two sixty. I make that four sixty from which I take twenty five percent or ton fifteen leaving three forty five for you. Add on the original ton forty makes a grand total four hundred and eighty five quid. Tell you what, I did pretty well out of you last night so I'll round it up to the full five hundred, can't say fairer than that, can I?"
"Five hundred! Thank you, Mr H!" Suddenly Malaysian beaches seemed a heck of a lot closer.
He took a pile of bills and peeled off fifties and twenties galore until he had made up five hundred pounds and then he handed it over. As I held the cash in my hand my balls didn't seem to hurt so badly. I put the money away in my wallet.
"So, the next meeting," Mr H started.
"Err... about that," I cut across.
"What about it?"
I thought of the money in my wallet and my resolve faltered but, really, I had been all but castrated. "I'm not sure... I'm not sure I want to do it again." I said after a while.
"Let me guess. You're not too keen on giving Archie another shot at crushing your balls, is that it?"
"Something like that. I'd like to have children one day."
"Yeah, he was a bit rough," Mr H laughed. "But apart from that? Apart from Archie you didn't seem to be having any problems at all. You seemed to be having a fair old time with Arthur and his friends. Blow jobs all round, wasn't it?"
"Apart from Archie, the rest of it was... yeah, I guess it was OK," I replied. I was far too confused about how I felt to explain it to myself, let alone Mr H. Mind you, even with Archie I was actually tempted. Five hundred quid! Malaysia, here we go! If I could pick up that sort of money then the new iPhone was also on the cards. But, whatever the cash, I knew I should just walk away. The only viable option was to take the five hundred and write everything else off to experience. Why was walking away so hard, why was there was part of me that didn't want to?
