Valuable Lessons

Meeting Erik and being seduced by him did wonders for my self-confidence as well as keeping me sexually sated. I visited him at regular intervals for the next couple of years, usually once or twice every two-three months. Not that I didn't want to have male sex more often than that, but he taught me something about building up expectations and the effect of abstinence. Oh I jerked off (a lot) and had sex with girls now and then, but I did nothing about the craving to be fucked. I didn't even use my dildos, because doing without made me needy and eager, and I knew that Erik loved that. And I loved the fabulous orgasms he gave me.

However, I also saw Erik on occasions when we were not having sex. It turned out that he'd been serious about his offer to get me a job as a model. I'd written his question off as a smooth pick-up line, so I was very surprised when he arranged for me to meet Claude. He was a French photographer living part time in Copenhagen (and part time in Paris), and he was very professional. He was also fifty-something, short, wiry, temperamental and the first feminine gay man I'd met.

Getting almost naked in front of him, except for the underwear I was modelling, and having him boss me around and arrange my body the way he wanted it, had me blushing like mad for the first half hour. But in spite of the fact that his hands touched me almost everywhere, there was nothing sexual about it. Indeed Claude impressed me immensely, because there was no hint of him coming on to me and his behavior made me forget my embarrassment. Soon I was comfortable with being nearly nude in the spot light (literally) and just focused on doing my best with the job.

Other modelling jobs included more clothes and various photographers, and on occasion Erik would be there for those. With time the consequences of this opportunity turned out to be much more important that just making some money while studying. Don't get me wrong, I didn't suddenly become a successful model. Most of my work was meant for advertising catalogues, and I was just one amongst a host of good looking but rather anonymous guys doing this stuff. I rarely got used by magazines, and I didn't do shows (you know the catwalk and such). I did do some nude modelling but that's another story, and those pictures were certainly not for public consumption!

No, the gain was something else, and looking back I now know that it was more to do with Erik than modelling. He used the opportunity to mold me or maybe help me is a better word. When I met him, my main assets were youth, my typical Nordic features (blue eyes, blond hair, nice body), a fair dose of charm, and a certain amount of intelligence. But I'd no idea how to dress well, how to make the most of myself, both physically and mentally, and how to improve my manners and understanding of the world around me. By his example and subtle guiding I learnt how to act as a grown-up, a mature, attractive and attentive man.

I got to keep the clothes that I wore when modelling, unless I really disliked them, or Erik thought they weren't right. He'd also send me to shops where he knew the owner, and I'm sure I paid lower than normal prices for the things they chose for me. Erik also gave me small gifts like aftershave, body lotion or underwear, but made it seem casual. He might rub lotion on my body after we had a shower and tell me to take the bottle home. Or he'd ask me to wear specific articles of clothing "because I'd like to take those off you later, Anders".

So it never felt like payment for sex -- and in any case I should have been the one to pay him as my tutor. Erik certainly didn't act like he considered me as a kept lover, either, even if I was his 'boy' in bed. Very little in his manner towards me outside the bedroom let on to our private relationship, and he taught me the same restraint. Being in control of your feelings, thinking about your actions beforehand, and not letting secrets slip were useful abilities which Erik valued and helped instill in me. It sure wasn't from any shame on his part, because he was proud to display me as his companion in the right context.

I found out, when he insisted on taking me to a gay club he liked. I know what you're probably thinking now, and I'll admit that your suspicions are not without merit. But Erik took me to a fairly normal gay bar/club, not unlike the place where I met him, just more exclusive. He asked me to come to his place first and stay the night after, and I gladly agreed. It was our third time together, and I'd only done one or two modelling jobs with Claude. So my wardrobe was still pretty standard for a twenty-year-old student with low cash funds, and Erik insisted on providing my outfit for the night.

"I'm the one who wants to go out, Anders, and I'd love to see your tight ass in these when you're dancing. Especially knowing that I'll get to fuck it when we come back." My protests died and I blushed even more than when he'd shown me the skin tight leather pants and skimpy underwear to go with them. The latter wasn't much more than a firm pouch to hold my intimate parts in place, and the thought of having the narrow elastic straps outlining my bare butt and sitting deep in the cleft was making me cringe. It almost caused me to forget about the top which was just as revealing.

Erik had me stand in front of his mirrors as he undressed me and helped with the outfit. Of course his hands on me turned me on, and he chuckled as my dick engorged and finally escaped the confinement of the pouch, while he'd been busy settling the strap between my butt cheeks. "You'll never get your new pants on like that, Anders." His body was suddenly up against my back, and I could feel his hidden cock rubbing my naked ass. Standing exposed in front of the mirror with my dominant lover fully dressed behind me, while he fondled my balls and squeezed my nipples, had me gasping and begging in no time.

"You want me to take care of this, min dreng?" Erik's hand enclosed the shaft of my throbbing dick, and I cried out and tried to thrust my hips. The deep voice held me in thrall, just as his strong arms trapped me against the manly body. "Naughty boy, you know better than that." My eyes closed as I tilted my head back on his shoulder and tried not to whimper. Fuck, it was unbelievable the way Erik could make me horny and desperate with a few words and touches. "Open your eyes, Anders." The firm order had me shivering and I immediately obeyed.

Erik made me observe every moment in the mirror as he played my body, stroked me, teased me, told me how sexy I looked, how much he liked my tight ass. Not that I doubted the last part from the way he was grinding his hard-on into my crevice. When he finally let me decorate the mirror with sticky splotches of cum, I'd once again been reduced to wantonly pleading boytoy. With one of Erik's fingers buried in my ass and the other hand roaming over the front of my body, he watched me stroke my dick at the end, desperate for the orgasm he'd been denying me for more than ten minutes.

Once it was over, we helped each other clean up, and then I got dressed. Erik stayed hard the whole time and he made sure I was aware of it. I knew better than to ask or take any action to help him out. Two nights in Erik's arms had taught me that he decided what would happen in relation to sex. I could beg for my own pleasure, but he didn't appreciate me initiating or pushing things with him. And as I'd discovered that first time, my dominant lover would enforce his wishes with a light slap on appropriate parts of my anatomy, if I was disobedient. Just a playful pat, quickly forgotten in the subsequent delights.

Yep, I was still naïve, feel free to laugh, because even the events later that night didn't make me connect the dots. Although the initial part of that evening's education in the world of gay men and sex was quite innocent, if rather confusing and complicated at first. Erik and I took a taxi to the club; he paid our entrance, got me a drink, and led me on tour of the facilities. The bar was separate from the dancing part of the club, but connected by a short but wide corridor to accommodate the constant flow of guys back and forth. The music was loud, but it was still possible to talk in the bar area.

To my surprise Erik took my hand once we'd left our coats at the manned cloak room desk. At first I didn't dare to remove it, I was still caught up in my role from the recent scene in his bedroom. But then my pride and independence reasserted themselves, and I lagged behind and tugged gently. Erik's grip tightened, but he stopped immediately and turned to me. I stared into his eyes for a moment, let my gaze drop to our joint hands, and looked back up at the handsome face of my lover. He got the point, but instead of letting go, he pulled me to the wall, so people could pass, and bent to talk quietly in my ear.

"Would you prefer to be an object of desire for half the unattached men in this place? Going into that club unattended, as a new and mostly clueless visitor, looking the way you do, and I can guarantee that you'll have most males above 35 chasing your cute ass every minute we're here. Even being my companion -- and I can assure you no one will think of us as boyfriends, if that's what you're worried about -- even with me as your chaperone, I promise you that you'll get more attention and chances to flirt than you can handle. But it will be harmless and without peril, so you can enjoy it as much as you like."

Oh. Right. OK, put that way, I'd be better off following Erik meekly into the bar, so that's what I did. We wandered around after getting our drinks, occasionally stopping to talk to people he knew. If they studied me with interest, he'd introduce me, but otherwise I was free to look around. He usually let my hand go, only to take it again as we moved on. But in a few cases he kept hold of me, and after the second time I noticed that on those occasions he'd introduce me as "one of Claude's new models". This invariably sparked a closer scrutiny from the man or men in question, and I wondered why.

Once we'd made the rounds, Erik asked if I wanted to dance. I declined and he found us a table in the bar, where we could talk. During the next hour he educated me in the dynamics of gay men's interactions, pointing out various people and telling me to watch how they acted. This included the men who dropped by to flirt with me or him, mine almost all older, confident guys and his young or at least fairly diffident. It took me a while, but the comments he made to go with my observations finally clued me in. "So you're saying that the reason I get hit on by mature guys is because I'm sending out signals like the boys trying get your attention? Bottom vibes?"

Erik nodded. "Yes, but it's more complicated than that. And you needn't looked so annoyed, Anders. As I've said before, you have the potential to attract both groups. It depends on your attitude and with more experience and a bit of confidence, you'll project top signals -- or even versatile vibes, if you prefer. But right now, dressed like that and in my company, most guys will label you as a bottom and most likely submissive. Try going here on your own and in another type of clothes -- and I've got a couple of outfits you can try -- and you'll have a very different experience." He didn't have to add that it would only happen if I behaved otherwise too, and that I should study the guys I wanted to emulate.

Once I got over my wounded pride, it was actually rather fun. It reminded me a bit of the time I tried to figure out how to catch Kristine at the college dance. Only this time I was studying the predators as well as the prey and trying to work out how to act, depending on the role I wanted to take on. And I had to admit that I enjoyed being free to flirt without worrying about offending anyone by refusing to follow through. Even when I began to accept offers to dance, I felt safe. Erik always appeared next to the dance floor a few minutes after I'd left with a guy and his eyes on my body both reassured me and turned me on.

The one time a man hit on me persistently and refused to back down, finally groping me blatantly on the dance floor, I wrenched away from his grasp and fled to the safety of my lover's arms. Erik immediately took me back to the bar, and we joined a couple he'd introduced me to earlier in the evening. He slid his arm around my waist and kept me close, while we chatted casually with his friends. When my pursuer walked through the room and spotted us, his face twisted in an annoyed sneer, but he kept going and disappeared into corridor leading to the toilets.

Shortly after that the couple with us got up to dance, and to my surprise Erik pulled me up to follow them. Luckily the music playing was something I really liked, and I gave myself over to the beat, dancing with my eyes closed, secure in the knowledge that my protector's eyes and hands were on me all the time. As it turned out, it may have been more than just Erik whose fingers teased my wriggling ass or ghosted across the exposed parts of my torso and tickled my leather encased bulge. When I opened my eyes at the end of the song, I was surrounded by all three men, and I immediately blushed when the gay couple in front of me grinned appreciatively.

Erik's hard body was suddenly up against my back, and the velvet of his voice worked its magic. "Time to go home, Anders. I think you've tantalized the wolves enough for one night, boy." The last word was an almost inaudible whisper in my ear, as he bit my lobe gently. In fact, it may have been just my overwrought libido supplying the epithet, but I still got totally horny and needy in a split second. I barely managed to nod goodbye to Erik's friends before I was tagging along like an obedient puppy behind his master, eager for the promised treat. But at least my lover was just as much in a hurry.

Maybe that was why I never felt inferior, even when I deferred and submitted to Erik. He clearly appreciated my company, showing it with words, looks and touches. He never humiliated me or mocked me, and even when he dominated me sexually, there was an unspoken regard for my wellbeing, both physically and mentally. My lover made me feel like the hottest guy in town, and I'd no objection to him showing me off in the club and to his friends. Having Erik spend time with me and look proud of being in my company boosted my self-esteem and confidence immensely.

The moment we closed the door to his apartment, he had me pinned to the wall in the corridor. His kisses ravished my mouth, and his hands held my neck and my butt in a firm grip. At some point during the evening I'd asked him whether he normally preferred smaller guys, and Erik had laughed. "No, Anders, I'm quite content that you're my height, strong and fit. I like that you're a man and capable of holding your own with other people. It's much more of a challenge and better fun to subdue you, than if you just rolled over and gave in." From that answer I'd concluded that he wouldn't mind if I resisted a bit.

The only problem with this notion was that Erik's kisses and hands on my body turned my knees to jelly. Funny contrast, 'cause my dick was stone hard and painfully trapped in my tight leather pants. I groaned in relief as my lover deftly unbuttoned and unzipped, then gasped as he spun me around and tugged until my cheeks were exposed. "You drive me mad, Anders. When we were dancing, I just wanted to bend you over and fuck your pretty, provoking ass." His finger slid down and found my entrance. My whole body went taut, partly in terror that Erik would take me raw right there and then, and partly because I almost wanted him to.

"Go take a shower and make yourself ready, boy. Then come find me in the bedroom, and I want you naked and obedient, do you understand?" I gulped and nodded, relieved, then fled along the corridor and into Erik's bathroom. I'd prepared myself before I came over, of course, but after spending several hours at the club, dancing and sweating, I needed a quick repeat. Once I was clean and ready inside and out, I walked across the hall to the bedroom. Erik was waiting for me, sitting on the bed in front of the two large mirrors on the wall.

He was still fully dressed, and when I approached, he spread his legs and guided me in between them. My dick was hard and just his look made it twitch with anticipation. Erik caressed me gently, and bent forward to run his tongue over the head. I had to clench my hands into fists to stop myself from grabbing hold of his head and ram my manhood into his mouth. Such an act would definitely not be well received, no sir. After teasing me for little while, my lover sat up straight and undid his pants. "Kneel down," the order was soft and calm, but still unmistakable. So I knelt and Erik buried a hand in my blond curls and guided my head to his cock.

As soon as the tip prodded my lips, I opened them and accepted his manhood in my mouth. He let me control how deep I wanted to go, and I sucked and hummed with pleasure, as I worshipped the rod that would soon impale me. Or at least I hoped so. I needed to be fucked so badly, and I had the feeling that Erik would give me a long, hard ride tonight. He let me play for a while, then pulled me off his manhood and helped me stand up. A long possessive kiss followed by: "Get in position, Anders," had me scrambling on to the bed almost shaking with anticipation.

My second encounter with Erik had taught me what that order meant. He wanted me on all fours, exposed and eager, and then he'd give me the most intimate delight of all: an expert rimming. A lesson I'd been most happy and grateful to receive, and the term itself was new knowledge too. When Mark and Michael had licked me, I'd enjoyed it, but I hadn't really appreciated what an agile tongue could do to me. Erik teased my puckered star with small flicks of a wet tip. He ran lips and tongue up my thighs and nibbled on my butt. Hot breath on my balls and slowly moving up my ass crack had me moaning and begging for more.

All the nerve endings collected in my tight sphincter vibrated with need. Every lick and kiss and prodding of my entrance fired them up and sent bursts of pleasure up my spine and my dick. When my lover finally opened me up with two fingers and lube, I was more than ready to be taken. But to my utter frustration, he didn't. He slipped a small butt plug into my ass and told me to turn over. Then his mouth worked its magic on my manhood, but whenever I was close to coming, he moved up my body and fed me his cock. The third time he left me on the edge, I voiced my desperation: "Fuck no, please let me come, Erik, please. I'll do anything, just make me..."

I think that was what Erik was waiting for. He immediately swallowed my whole shaft and his fingers pushed the butt plug in such a way that it hit the sweet spot inside me. Once again he had me screaming in ecstasy as I came hard, and he drank every spurt of my prolonged ejaculation. The most amazing part was that I stayed erect and when Erik removed the butt plug, I spread my legs wide, hoping to be fucked. But still he tantalized me with fingers and mouth, slowly working me into a second frenzy. I even tried to suggest that I could ride him, if he wanted me to, but that just earned me a swat on my butt. Okay, I guess it was silly to think he'd let me be on top.

Finally, I got so desperate that I jumped out of bed and repeated my vow to do anything. I just stood there with my back to the mirrors and my throbbing dick pointing at Erik and begged him to tell me what I could do to make him fuck me. Moments later he was next to me, a soft white silk rope in one hand and a black blindfold in the other. "

Anything?

Do you really mean that, Anders?" His voice was almost a purr, and when I nodded, he wasted no time tying my hands behind my back and the black cloth over my eyes. I couldn't see anything as he led me out of his bedroom.