Upward Mobility

It started innocently enough: We were sitting in his living room drinking wine and Danny was telling me about his high school wrestling team and how he won forty-eight straight matches. His eyes wore a glazed-over expression as he talked about his glory days.

"...and out of those forty-eight matches, I pinned thirty-one of my opponents in under a minute in the first round!" he declared, triumphantly.

"I bet you can't pin me in under a minute!" I challenged him.

He snapped out of his reverie; a slight smile spread across his lips.

"You're on," he answered, "but don't start crying when I whip your pansy-ass!"

His air conditioner had broken a few days earlier, and we'd gotten into the habit of wearing as little clothes as we could to stay cool. I wore my tiny, navy blue gym shorts, and he was in his boxers.

He had me get on my hands and knees on his carpet. He was beside me, his left hand on my left wrist, his right arm draped over my back and shoulders holding my right wrist.

He said, "One-two-three-GO!"

He tried to pull my left hand out from under me while pushing me onto my back. It didn't work—I squirmed out of his grasp.

I laughed, "Lost your touch, Danny?"

We did it again. He was able to push me to my stomach where our arms and legs twisted together, but he couldn't turn me over to pin me. Our hot bodies began glistening with sweat.

I laughed in his face, "Did you wrestle girls in those forty-eight straight matches?"

I saw the fury in his brown eyes. We did it again. This time, he grunted and groaned as he used every ounce of muscle he had. I grappled with him; clawed his back; we panted like animals; then finally, with one mighty shove he pushed me on my back and he pinned my shoulders to the carpet. He was victorious on top of me. The anger never left his eyes.

He held me pinned to the carpet. I looked down to see his boxers ballooned out in front. He had an erection. Then a thin, cruel sneer spread on his lips.

"You little bitch," he said contemptuously, "I'm gonna give you what your prick-teasing ass deserves!"

"W-What do you m-mean?" I stammered.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he took hold of both of my wrists with one strong hand, and reached down with his free hand and tugged at my shorts. I tried kicking at him but all that did was to give him enough leeway to yank my shorts all the way down my legs and off. I was naked beneath him.

"Danny!" I shouted, but it was no use. His eyes bugged-out now and he looked like a madman.

He lifted off of me just long enough to pull down his boxers. His hard cock sprang into my view. It was long and slim, six inches at the very least; a largish, purple mushroomed cockhead. He spat on his fingers, and rubbed it on the glans. I felt his cockhead push against my anus.

"Danny!....what are you doing?...Danny-DANNY!!" He lunged forward forcing his cockhead through my anus and kept pushing until his entire cock was buried deep inside my asshole.

He never gave me time to catch my breath. He pulled out so just the head was inside me then he rammed forward with all his might and energy.

"AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH...." I screamed.

He brutally fucked me like a rag doll. I felt every vein, every nuance of his cock as it pistoned in-and-out of my asshole. I was helpless beneath him. All I could do was wait until his lust was satiated.

Suddenly he gave a deep thrust and his cockhead pressed against my prostate. My own cock tingled and came to life. My eyes rolled back into their sockets; my head swayed side-to-side. I was delirious with pleasure.

"OOOHHH—GGGOOODDDD—DANNNNNYYYYYYY—FUCKME-FUCKME-FUCKME—DANNNNYYYYYYYY!!"

Sweat dripped off his face onto my chest. He was straining to cum. His cock fucked in-and-out of me. When his cockhead bumped my prostate again I exploded. I screamed and yelled and shot my cum over both of us. That triggered his orgasm. I felt his cock expand inside me then shoot load-after-load of hot jism in my ass. He collapsed on top of me. I took his face in my hands and kissed him deeply on the mouth. He kissed me back.

Suddenly, he sprang up like he was shot out-of-a-cannon.

"OH MY GOD--OH MY GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE? OH MY GOD!"

I tried to calm him. I tried to reason with him. I said it was okay...don't feel bad, I said. It felt really good, I told him.

I went to the bathroom and came back with a warm wash cloth. I tried to clean his penis but he pushed me away. He cleaned himself and slipped into his boxers. I gave him a glass of wine—he gulped it down. I poured him another. I sat beside him on the couch. He half-heartedly tried to push me away. I stroked his neck and back.

"My God, Johnny—what have I done? I've ruined our friendship—I can't do this—I like girls, damnit!"

"Danny, it's all right—we'll survive this—no one has to know, okay?"

His brown eyes were moist when he looked at me. "My God, Johnny...I raped you...I'm so-so sorry!"

I put my arm around him. "Danny...it's okay...I won't tell anyone..." I whispered to him.

I stroked his chest and thighs. I kissed his neck and blew into his ear. The stiffness returned inside his boxers. I reached my hand inside his boxers and grasped his cock.

"Johnny—what are you doing?"

I stroked his cock, and rubbed his balls. "My God, Johnny...."

We looked into each others' eyes; we kissed; a long, lingering kiss.

I got off the couch and knelt between his legs. I pulled his boxers down. I grasped the shaft of his cock with my left hand and massaged his balls with the other. I proceeded to give him the best blow-job of his life.

"Oh God, Johnny...." he moaned under my tender ministrations.

I moved into Danny's apartment the very next morning. I'd turned another straight guy queer.

Men are such chumps, I was thinking as I vacuumed our apartment one morning. Give them an encouraging word from time-to-time, sympathize with them, listen attentively to their boring thoughts, touch their arms or backs or thighs and smile at them when they droned on-and-on-and-on about trivial things, and you've got them 'hooked'. After that, give them a good suck or fuck whenever their cocks get hard, and they're putty in your hands.

I hadn't had a job since high school, and that was six years ago. I hated working. I wasn't good at it, and it seemed like a colossal waste of time. I like spending money though, so you had to 'choose' the right men; men who were smart and ambitious, and wanted to 'get ahead' in this world, but who weren't very sharp; men who could be easily led around by their dicks. Stroke their egos and they'll stoke your wallet, I always said.

I smiled as I remembered Mr. Angelar, my high school algebra teacher. I was terrible at math and science, and was going to fail his course. One day after school I went into his office thinking he'd help me with algebra, instead, I received a more valuable lesson.

We sat side-by-side at his desk. I was expressing my frustrations, waving and using my hands when I spoke, I touched his arm a couple times, then I squeezed his thigh when I was trying to make a point, and I looked at him and he had the strangest look in his eyes. When my hand 'accidentally' brushed against the erection in his trousers, well, that was the first time I'd seen that look on a man's face. It was the look of all-consuming, desire and lust.

He cleared his throat, then said, "Johnny, I don't know if I can give you adequate training here in school." He took my hand and placed it directly on his throbbing cock. "Perhaps you could earn better grades in a more suitable environment." I squeezed his cock and from then on, we met at his house twice a week where he gave me 'personal tutoring'. He even introduced me to a couple teachers I'd have in the next year, who also went out of their way to help me earn 'extra credit'. I never cracked a book my last two years in high school.

There was a sharp rapping on the door and Mr. Bell, the landlord announced himself. He was there to fix the air conditioner -- again. I was wearing my tiny gym shorts and nothing else. He stopped and looked me up and down.

He knew I was queer. Once, after I moved in with Danny and I paid the rent, with Danny's money of course, he asked, "So tell me, who's the husband and who's the wife?" I placed my hands on my hips and posed like a girl. "I thought so," he said.

He was banging on the air conditioner, trying to fix it. "Why can't we just get a new one so you won't have to keep coming over here?" I asked.

"These are expensive, little lady," he said with a smile.

I stood close by watching him. He was twenty years older than me, but not a bad looking man. He gave off a musky aroma; he must have worked hard that morning. I ran my hand up and down the back of his white cotton tee shirt. Then I rubbed his bottom-cheeks through the thin fabric of his trousers.

Suddenly, he turned around and gave me a leering grin, and said, "Well, maybe we can work something out so I can get you a new one."

I dropped to my knees, unbuckled his belt, opened his pants and pulled them and his underwear down. His cock was already hard. I kissed and licked it. I tickled the glans with my tongue. I gave long, licking strokes with my tongue on the underside of his cock. He groaned. My tongue traced a vein around his girth. By the time I wet my lips and placed them over his cockhead he was moaning incessantly.

I stroked his shaft and fondled his balls as I sucked his cock. His hips imperceptibly swayed back and forth. I took more and more of his cock into my mouth. I snuck a peak up at his face: his eyes were closed, and drool was leaking out of the corner of his mouth. I doubted if his scarecrow-of-a-wife ever did this for him. I wondered why it was called a blow-job? It wasn't a 'job' at all....

I increased my stroking and sucking tempo. I could taste his pre-cum. He reached down and held my face. He pumped his hips back-and-forth. His glistening cock slid in-and-out of my voraciously sucking mouth. He grunted and groaned, straining to cum. I felt his balls contract in my hand. I rubbed his anus with my middle finger. His hips bucked uncontrollably. He screamed as he shot his cum on my tongue. I lapped it up and swallowed every drop. Afterwards, when his shrunken penis slid from between my lips I cleaned his still-twitching cock with my tongue. When I looked up he had a huge smile on his face.

We not only got a new air conditioner that afternoon, he lowered the rent by $200 a month, as well. He was going to become a frequent visitor, but it was worth it.

"How could he raise the rent by a hundred bucks a month?" Danny shook his head in disbelief.

"I dunno," I said, "but I really love this place, we don't have to move, do we?"

"No-no...we'll stay here...."

A boy had to do whatever was needed to get ahead in this life, didn't he?

It was for Danny's benefit anyway, I was horny as hell after a visit from Mr. Bell, so I stripped off my shorts as soon as he got home from work and bent over for him. I had taught Danny how to reach around and stroke my cock while he was fucking me. We shot gobs and gobs of spunk in every room of that apartment. I may be a bitch, but my men are always sexually satisfied!

After I talked Danny into trading in his Honda for a Lexus, money became tight. We didn't go out as much as we used to; we didn't go to ballgames or concerts. And when the owner of his company, Randall, announced the company had lost money and there wouldn't be any Christmas bonus this year, Danny became very depressed. He was counting on the bonus to help pay down a credit card I had maxed-out.

One day I was going to do a wash and was going through Danny's trouser pockets. I came across a flyer advertising the company Christmas party. It was tomorrow night. When Danny got home I asked if we were going.

"I wish," he said, "...the old man's got three of us working twelve hour days starting tomorrow...a big contract came in and we have two weeks to finish it..." his eyes brightened, "but you know, I may be getting that bonus after all if we finish the job on time!"

What good does that do me? I wondered, I wanted to go to the party.

The next day after I serviced Mr. Bell, I saw the flyer again. Why should both of us suffer just because Danny had to work? I wondered. "What the hell," I said to myself and jumped into the shower.

I wore my lavender dress shirt with black slacks and black suit coat—no tie. I used the grocery money Danny had given me that morning and took a taxi to the party. It was a classy restaurant/bar in the nice section of town. Inside, a sign pointed to an area where the people from Danny's company would be.

I never met any of Danny's co-workers before; I think he was still embarrassed about his gay-thing. My heart beat fast with anticipation as I walked into the party. It was a dimly lit room with tables of food surrounded by dining tables and booths. I looked around and listened. I walked to the long bar in the corner of the room. On a bar stool was a distinguished-looking, grey-haired man of about sixty. I heard him tell the bartender, "Jameson—neat!", and he turned on his barstool to face the three people who were standing before him. I waited a minute then sat on the barstool next to him.

The bartender came over and said, "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you for your ID."

"Certainly," I said, and promptly showed it to him. I was a very young-looking twenty-four year-old.

"Very good! And what can I make for you tonight, sir?" the bartender asked.

"I'll have a Jameson's—neat!" I said.

The grey-haired man's head swiveled to look at me. I gave him my sweetest smile. "Hello," I said to him.

"Hello to you," he smiled, then turned back and spoke with his friends. In a short while, the people dispersed and left him sitting alone next to me.

He ordered another drink, and I said to the bartender: "Since you have the bottle out—you may as well pour two!"

The grey-haired man laughed, "A Jameson-man, huh? Not too many of us around!"

I smiled, "Yeah, for the price I think it beats the hell out of Bushmills and Tullamore Dew."

He eyed me curiously, "Do you work for the company?" he asked.

"No, my friend Danny does. I'm his...ah, roommate, John."

There was a twinkle in his eyes, "OOhhhh, yes, the mysterious roommate! My name is Randall—a pleasure to meet you." We shook hands—he had a nice, firm grip.

We chatted about whiskey, sports, cars, the economy...and whatever else I'd read about recently in the newspaper. We had three more Jamesons and we both were feeling no pain. He decided we needed food. He swayed when he walked so when we found a table, I asked him what he wanted from the buffet, and I fixed a plate for him. When I returned with my food I sat next to him. He liked that.

He may have been sixty but he didn't look it. He had chiseled good-looks, was probably three inches taller than me and forty pounds heavier. He had broad shoulders, a full chest, and not a pot belly to be seen. His arms and hands looked big and strong.

He asked about me and my life, and I talked for awhile, using my hands like I always do. I'd touch his arm or shoulder, and every now and then would brush it against his upper thigh. He listened with a dazed smile on his face.

When he spoke I hung on every word. At the appropriate times, I'd say things like "fascinating"—"that's interesting"—"you're a smart man". I'd laugh where needed, and frowned at the right times.

After the meal, we stayed in the booth and had a couple more Jamesons. His employees filed-by on their way out, thanking him for a wonderful party.

When we took the last swallow of our drinks, I placed my hand on his thigh and told him I took a taxi to get there, but I wasn't sure if I had enough money to get home. My hand brushed the front of his trousers—he had a massive erection.

"Don't worry about that—I'll drive you home," he said with a lust-filled grin on his handsome face.

I watched him as we left the restaurant; he draped his suit coat over his arm in front of him to hide his erection and walked fairly steady; he seemed sober enough to drive. It was dark outside. When he unlocked the doors of his new Cadillac, I climbed in on the passenger side. As soon as we were inside, I shifted over next to him; our thighs touching.

We looked into each others' eyes. I think he wanted to kiss me, but there was a battle raging in his mind. He started the car and pulled into traffic. On the way home, my fingers lightly traced circles on his inner thigh. When he pulled into the parking lot of my building, I took hold of his erection through his pants and stroked it.

"Do you want to park over there?" I asked, as I pointed to the darkest area of the parking lot.

When he parked and turned off the ignition and lights, we were in darkness. He put his arms around me and we kissed. I grasped his cock firmly now and stroked him. He groaned into my mouth. I opened the belt of his slacks and pulled down the zipper. My small hand reached into his slacks and boxers and found his huge erection. My own cock immediately became hard.

I gently pulled his pants lower and his cock sprang free. I lowered my head and smothered his cock with kisses. I worked my tongue up and down his shaft. I found his balls and held his sac. Heavy, egg-shaped balls. I wet my lips and placed them over his mushroom-sized cockhead. I sucked his cock and stroked his shaft and massaged his balls. His head fell back against the headrest, rolling from side to side. Animal-like groans came from deep in his throat. I worked furiously on his cock. I was moaning now, too.

I felt his heavy balls contract in my hand. My tongue was on his cock-slit ready for his cum.

"OH-GOD---OH-GOD---OH-GOD..." he shouted in ecstasy as his cock exploded in my mouth.

I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed but still couldn't keep up with the flood of cum his cock was shooting into my mouth. His cum dripped down my chin and into his pubic hairs. I licked his softening cock clean then buried my face in his pubes. I licked and sucked his cum out of his wet, matted pubic hairs.

Suddenly, his cell phone rang. He composed himself quickly and answered it. My face was still in his crotch.

"Y-Yes, dear?"..."No, I'll be home soon"..."Yes, it was a good party"..."Okay, then—I love you, too."

There was an awkward silence. He dressed himself. I wiped his cum off my face.

Finally, I said, "I had a good time tonight...If you want—call me sometime."

More silence. I opened the car door, climbed out and walked quickly into the building. I had just gotten undressed and brushed my teeth when I heard Danny open the front door.

He was tired and in no mood to fool around but I was so horny I coaxed an erection out of him, climbed on top of him, lowered my asshole onto his cock and rode him hard until we both emptied our balls. We fell asleep with smiles on our faces.

It had only been a few days since my front-seat tryst with Randall, but I hadn't heard from him and was beginning to think my 'feminine wiles' had failed me.

Mr. Bell was becoming more brazen in his visits with me. He now insisted we get naked, and demanded I give him two orgasms instead of one. The only consolation was I taught him to enjoy stroking my cock to climax; he did seem fascinated when he watched my semen shoot out of my cock. I decided it would be more tolerable if I could get him to take me in his mouth so I was working on that with him, too. Anyway, I was growing weary of him and was devising a plan that would get me out of our arrangement all together.

I was coming back from the pool one late morning. I grabbed the mail from our box and went inside and laid it on the kitchen counter. I made a salad and sat down to eat. The mail was mostly advertisements and a couple bills. I came across a handwritten letter with no return address. It was for me. There was a single, white sheet of ordinary computer paper folded over in the envelope. I opened it and it read: