Runaway Houseboy

I sat in the corner of a coffee shop Saturday morning, watching the local news on my tablet, earbud in my ear, when a man walked up to me. He wore a bright smile and a beige pea coat with silver buttons, skinny jeans and ankle height navy blue suede boots with a grey, 3 inch wooden heel. His hair was shaved on one side and flipped over against his shoulder on the other.

If you told me, when I was a straight male 6 months ago that I'd find this twink both pretty and desirable, I would have laughed.

"It sucks to find a handsome one like you and see that you're taken." He said with a flamboyant lilt to his voice. Not too much, but noticeable. He jerked his chin towards me, eyes on the leather strap hanging around my neck with a small padlock through the d-rings on each end of it.

"Something like that." I said, pulling the earbuds from my ears. I wound the cord around my hand and folded it on top of my tablet. "But I don't mind a chat."

The stranger took a seat across from me and he crossed his legs. I looked into those baby blue eyes, catlike with the perfect wing eyeliner.

6 months ago, I would have laughed at him and called him a faggot. It always made me feel so guilty about being friendly now, knowing how I would have treated him, had my life not taken the turn it did.

We probably never even would have said hello, or noticed each other either.

"Care to elaborate?" He asked, to which I followed up with a confused, "Sorry?"

"What do you mean, 'something like that'." He repeated. Oh. He wanted a story.

I shrugged. "I am a houseboy." I was shown off so often that the word was a fact of life, and he had no shame left to hide it away with. Besides, there were worse things to be called.

"You're far from looking like the usual submissive twink." He said with a laugh.

"And you look like the exact definition of a submissive twink." I smirked. "I play soccer. So I'm athletic."

"Soccer! Fun fun."

"You hate sports." It wasn't a question, but a frank observation.

"No, no... Hate is a strong word. Let's just say I'm willing to watch the boys and I can get halfway through any game and not even know what ball they're tossing back and forth."

I laughed at that, and crossed my arms across my chest absentmindedly. My coffee time companion must have enjoyed the way it emphasized my chest and arms because when his eyes moved down, he made a satisfied kind of "mm" sound.

"I have a small feeling that going from jock to houseboy wasn't on your bucket list."

"Your gaydar seemed to light up when you saw me, what makes you say that?"

"Sweetie, gaydar isn't a thing." he shook his head. "For all I know, you could have been some poor cuck with a wife getting in someone else's pants and letting you lick her load."

"Fair enough, fair enough." I said, almost too dismissively.

"Whoredar, however, I'll claim that's a thing. Wait, you're not really a cuck are you?"

I turned red and stared over his shoulder through the narrow windows at the front of the shop. "Isn't that when you can't have sex and your partner has as much as they want?" I asked. Half a year into this lifestyle, I was still learning about some of the kinkier stuff. And I didn't want to admit to this guy how inexperienced I was, despite how loose my ass was from servicing the house.

"That's right." he narrowed his eyes. "See? This conversation would be a lot less entertaining if this whole thing had been on your bucket list for 15 year old you creaming into a sock."

"I... ah...." I sighed, throwing my hands up. "Fine! Yeah, you're right. I was kind of given no choice in this." I rubbed the back of my neck, slightly embarrassed by his pointed questions.

"No choice?" his eyes furrowed. He looked like he was ready to kick someones ass. I couldn't imagine a man of his size would do much damage against anyone in the house, especially in those boots. He didn't even know me, I actually felt honored.

"Oh! No, no, nothing like that. Its just, I um..." I looked up into his baby blue eyes, lost for a moment. I was opening up to him pretty fast, considering how guarded I've always been in my life. "I had to trade, well, services... for some help in school."

"Oh! oh... Oh! So the epitome of jock stereotype does exist." he jabbed, laughing goodheartedly.

I chuckled with him. "Yeah, yeah. Well... I uh... I can't read." I swallowed. "So... there's that."

"What! No! Scandal! How did you even get through highschool?"

"I fucked half my teachers." I said, rubbing the stubble on my chin. "And I fucked the Valedictorian. And then I found out the Dean was sleeping with one of the female students and blackmailed him to get through my state tests. Plus a few other unworthy moments." I shrugged. "Then I got a full ride scholarship to the University, and I realized that high school is nothing like the real world."

"Why did you never learn?"

"My asshole dad, partially. He hated books, didn't allow any reading in the house, and so I hated reading because it always resulted in bad times. And then I fell through the cracks of the shitty dump of a public school system. My mom ditched my dad, married a rich guy, he sent me off to private school." I furrowed my brow. "I think my story has come full circle." Why the hell was I oversharing?

"Man. Thats a load. Well, you still have your insanely good looks. So how did you go from just trading favors to full blown house boy? Wait. When you say university, and houseboy... Don't tell me its the whole house!"

I didn't acknowledge that question with a direct answer. "I started trading favors to Bret, Bret told Jay, Marcus walked in on us, and on it went until the president found out. I was sure I was gonna get kicked, but he said if I became his bitch and serviced whoever he told me to, he would make sure my work got done and let me stay. But it wasn't enough because tests were still in class. I dropped out last semester. I'm only at the house until June when everyone goes home for the summer."

A playfully wicked grin cracked across this guys lips. It made me nervous. "So you're telling me you're a housebroken prostitute with nowhere to go."

I sighed. I wouldn't say all that. But I didn't dispute his declaration.

"Come on. You have to actually agree with me." He said.

I scoffed, "why would I call myself a prostitute? I don't do it for money."

"You're doing it for a roof over your head, and you've got a pimple telling you who to fuck. What else would you call it?

A pimple?" I laughed, but it was just to cover up my embarrassment. Damn he may be right.

"Pimple. A dick of a pimp. Come on. Say it." He stared unblinking at my face, an eyebrow cocked, waiting quite confidently.

"I'm a housebroken prostitute with nowhere to go." I grumbled reluctantly. I furrowed my brow in frustration before I snapped my head up, glaring at him. "Why am I saying that anyway? You're nobody to me, it's not your lock around my neck." I stood suddenly, my chair squealing as it pushed backward and banged into the wall behind me. I shoved my headphones into my pocket and reached for my tablet.

The boys hand slammed down over mine. His expression was wicked. "I can get you out of there and the only person you'd have to serve is me." He said. "You can continue being an unpaid prostitute, or you can come be a real houseboy, be spoiled, be adored."

I stared down at him. "Why would you do that?"

He shrugged. "I kind of like you, it's not often I can find a sub bigger than I am. And I have no problem being a sugar daddy. I live modestly with a pretty dispensable income."

"What, are you a nest egg baby?"

"Sweetie, I'm Lossy Silver. My clothing line is international." He shrugged, gesturing to his outfit. "I don't blow my money and so I can do whatever I wish. And right now, I'm looking for a model for the online thumbnails my new athletics line." He shrugged. "Win win, don't you think?"

"So do you want to keep me or hire me?" I glanced down at him, hesitant and nervous. All if it seemed too good to be true.

"Does it matter? Come on, get in my car, grab your stuff from the frat house and let's go."

I paused, and shook my head. "No... I don't want any of my things. You said you'll be my sugar daddy right?" I stepped around the table and leaned down to his ear. "Maybe you can dress me. And that way i can burn the bridge and start fresh. Start over."

---------

The next few days were a whirlwind. I seriously did it. The only thing I held on to was my phone, tablet and headphones. I drove into the city with a stranger I met at the coffee shop 30 minutes before with the windows rolled down and didn't look back. For the first 3 days, his old frat boys called a few times a day, but they didn't anymore.

I stood now leaning against an enormous jet black Shire horse with clothes from the new Lossy line out at the farm. His real name was Erik, and I still rode there high of being here. Erik had me working during the day, sometimes he left me at his estate when he went out, other times we were out shopping. At night they drove an hour back to the countryside where he owned farmland and the horses he used in his shoots. And then I would pass out in my own bedroom.

Erik and I hadn't done anything so far. I made him breakfast every morning, and packed his lunch. Something he didn't ask for, but always said he appreciated. The first day he strolled into the kitchen, he had balked, confused at the gesture. He said I made the best eggs he's ever had.

I laid back on my bed, on top of the covers in a pair of shorts they bought the night before. When I looked up, he was leaning against the door frame. I sat up, my heart racing, resting my arm across a raised knee.

He laughed. "Don't look like I'm gonna take you out back and shoot you. Geez." He said with a laugh.

I shook my head. "I'm not, I just..." I shrugged. I didn't even know.

"We'll get up. What are you wearing, boxers?"

I nodded, and slid my feet on the hard wood and stood.

"Strip."

I did. I didn't look him in the face as my cock popped half mast from it's confinement.

"You reminded me of my horses when I saw you in the shop. Well kept, elegant, strong. I said before but, it's not often I find a sub larger than me.Most subs are my size or smaller that I find attractive."

I swallowed, feeling his eyes examining my body. He looked feminine and petite, barefoot now, wearing leggings and a tight fitting blank tank top. His comfort clothes.

He approached me and leaned his slender body into mine. His hands pulled my arms, telling me how he liked to be held. He tilted his head away from me and stroked his neck with his painted fingertips, his finger sliding over his own shoulder and pulling the strap of his top down.

My breath hitched.

"I've never really done... Intimate things... Y'know, before." I whispered, my

voice like sand paper.

"You've never kissed a girl on the neck, a star athlete like you?" He teased, winding his hands around my waist.

Ah. I was acting like this was foreign, wasn't I?. I knew foreplay, with girls. What he was asking was no different.

I tilted my lips against his neck just behind his ear, pulling against his skin with a suck of my breath. I pulled away with a smack and kissed him again, lower this time, following the trail he made with his finger tip.

He smiled and pulled against me, swaying as he enjoyed the feelings I drew to the surface of his skin. "Use your teeth... Lightly now..." He whispered, showing me how to gauge exactly how much pressure he wanted.

I found my rhythm, and as soon as he was satisfied with the work I did with my mouth, he pushed me back onto the bed.

"You're used to big boys turning you over and having their way, aren't you?" He said, crawling forward on his knees and straddling my hips.

"I'm guessing you prefer to do it face to face." I guessed. I felt the rough callous on his thumb, worn and thickened from always pushing a needle through dense fabric brush over my nipple, sending a shiver down my spine.

He leaned forward, the long strands at the top of his head swinging down and brushing my forehead. "Not always. But today I'd like to see the look on your face."

Standing upright, the bed indenting under his feet as he stood straddled over me, he pushed his leggings down, letting his cock bounce free.

With how feminine he was, I half expected him to not even have one. But it was just as meaty and impressive as all the "straight" boys who had used me before. My own twitched, and despite the size differences in our bodies, our cocks compared.

He bent over at the hips, shooting me a sly grin and taking my cock in his hands. My body arched and I groaned through my teeth as he played me like a musical instrument.

Erik lowered down on his knees and twisted his body, reaching into the nightstand I thought was empty. From it he pulled an expensive looking tube of lubricant.

I thought he would start to coat his own cock, ready to fuck me and so I moved to sit up, and extricate myself from under his legs, find out what position he preferred. But he grabbed my cock instead with the cold lubed palm, which stopped me in my tracks.

"Going somewhere?" He asked with a chuckle.

"I, er... No. I just. I'm not sure what to do."

"Shhh." Erik said sharply. "If you can't tell, I'm nothing like the douchebags who used to use you. I'm here to fuck you. Not to pound you in the mattress and leave you feeling used. I'm going to fuck you. And later you're going to fuck me how I like it and you're going to truly enjoy it this time." He began to shift his weight and I finally understood what he meant.

I'd never been inside of a man before.

I'd never even done anal with old girlfriends.

Still, I thought I was prepared.

As he raised on his knees and slowly slid his knees apart, pressing his little brown asshole down against the head of my cock, I could have had a preemie right there. After a glorious handjob, slick with the lube and his saliva, I was ready to burst.

But once at the hilt, he stopped, apparently relishing in the feeling if being filled by me. I gripped his thighs, seeing his cock bounce beautifully in front of me. It gave me a moment to compose myself.

"Do you like?"

I laughed, a quick chuckle. "Y-yeah." I said, shuddering. I looked up into those pretty blue eyes.

Erik rode me hard after giving me a few good moments to acclimate. And for the first time I came while having gay sex. My nails dug into his skin, hooked behind his knees in an attempt to pull him closer.

He didn't come yet, but his hand was around his cock and I could see he was so close. But my cock was so swollen and sensitive, I could see the hue darken with every pull. I clenched my teeth as he milked my cock for all it was worth, a high pitched whine in my throat. My toes curled and I arched my back just as his semen shot across my chest and neck.

Pulling free with a solid pop, he collapsed beside me, pressing his sweating body against my side. I rolled against him and wound my arms around his body, burying my face in his neck.

"Thank you." I whispered, shuddering. "Thank you for giving that to me."

"More to come, for as long as you're here." Erik whispered back.