“I’m just here to restock on the essentials. If you ever need advice, just let me know. I’m happy to help a boy in need.” His words were kind, but when he called me a boy, something in me just begged for more.
“Oh, thanks. I am new here. I guess you’re good at spotting the boys in need.” Did I just call myself boy?
John pulled his phone out of his pocket, and did the expected unexpectedly. “If you want to give me your number, we can stay in contact. I’ve got most of this stuff at home if you find something you want to try before you buy.” I glanced around the store, wondering how someone could have all of these things let alone find a use for them.
“Sure,” I said trying not to sound too excited, and entered my phone number. I flashed him my box of rings again. “So these are a good start?” I asked, trying to be innocent in my intentions, but still wondering what giving him my phone number might lead to.
“Yeah, decent. A good starter pack. Personally I prefer metal, but only because the rubber pulls on hair.” It took me a second to realize he was talking about hair not on your head. “Tell you what, if you have something around here you’re curious about, I can tell you how it works. I am free for the rest of the evening.” I took this as more of a suggestion than an offer of assistance. Where would I start in this store of endless possibilities?
I didn’t realize that in our conversation, my dick had gotten soft, slipping from my waistband, and then hard again, standing almost perfectly straight out. “You have, a uh, there’s something you need to attend to,” John said softly, glancing downward. I could feel a panic rise within me, and without thinking shoved my hand into my underwear to straighten things out.
Oh my god. You just touched yourself in a public space. You are a fucking idiot. I couldn’t stop my cheeks from turning red and my face from letting off a look of pure shock.
“You’re too funny,” John laughed. “Tell you what, I’m not usually this forward, but if you want a more private spot to browse where you don’t have to worry about that, you can come to my place.”
I stopped and wondered. Could I go to his place? This man that I just met? I thought even more, and it didn’t take me long to remind myself about the feeling of him calling me boy, the feeling of my dick throbbing, and I knew that it wasn’t my brain making the decisions anymore.
“Sure, I think that would be fun,” I said, surprising even myself.
“It’s a deal then. I’ll check out, and we can head to my place. I’ll get those for you,” he said, taking the small box out of my hand. I followed him to the same man that gave me my orientation of the store. John checked out, taking his intriguing different types of lube, gloves and what I learned to guess were poppers home in a brown paper bag. I followed him to the parking lot, unsure where I’d be going and what was next.
“Do you want to follow me or should I give you a ride, boy?” He said, again with my new name, making me ponder what I was getting myself into.
“I guess you can drive. How far is your place?”
“About 20 minutes. Hop in,” he almost commanded as lights flashed on a black Escalade across the parking lot. Had that been here when I came in?
The ride to John’s house was pleasant, and I spent most of my time staring at his massive hands and strong arms effortlessly driving us to our destination. The small talk was casual and easy, giving no indication that we just met between silicone fists and oversized cocks. John worked in law for a while, but freelances as an advisor when he needs extra work. He’s 37 and was married once, when he fell in love at 19, but divorced only a few years later. He grew up in Texas, which explains his soft accent, but moved around the country for work, finally settling here. He’s single now, and he likes it that way.
I got so enamored with his life experiences that I didn’t realize we pulled into his driveway. It was a cute house, not small by any sense, but looked comfortable. It was secluded, wooded on all sides, with a porch that wrapped around the front.
“This is it. Sorry if it’s a mess,” he said getting out of the car. I followed him to the door and into the small foyer.
“Shoes off please,” he asked as I entered. It looked like a normal house. I figured if he had everything from The Secret Room, dildos and chains and leather would be everywhere. There was a living room to the left, which was clean and modern. A dining room to the right, and as he led me down the hall, a granite-filled kitchen with not a single thing out of place.
“Yeah wow, this place is a sty,” I joked, trying to hide any hint of nervousness I had left.
John gestured to the island, and I took a seat. He leaned over the counter opposite me. “So, if we’re going to do this, we have to trust each other. Let’s get all the hard things out of the way. I’m STD tested negative, I only fuck raw if I’m in a monogamous relationship and as much as I want you to be my submissive bitch, setting boundaries means you need to tell me what is good and not.”
I was shocked. Submissive bitch. That was very different than boy. I expected myself to hate it, but coming from him it meant something else. Something almost romantic.
I choked out my response. “Uh. Yes. I’ve never been tested, but I’ve never done anything raw.” I tried to mimic his language so maybe he wouldn’t think I was as inexperienced as I really was. “And I think I can tell you what’s good, but it all seems good, so maybe you can help… figure it out,” I trailed off, trying to find the line between too eager and too shy.
“Great! Why don’t I show you the basement then?”
He led me down a narrow stairway and flicked on a light. The basement was open, unfinished but developed. The walls had shelves lined neatly with things I’d seen in the store. Dildos, plugs, metal rods and rings, handcuffs and leather straps. At the center was a thick leather sling in a heavy metal frame. Behind it were hooks on a flat wall. I was overwhelmed, and didn’t know what to say. I found what I thought was a bed, but the sheets were surprisingly rubber, and sat down.
“This is… a lot.” What am I getting myself into?
“This is what some might call a dungeon, but I don’t want you to think I’m keeping you captive. There’s a lot of stuff here, so don’t get overwhelmed. Why don’t we start simple. You pick something you like, I’ll trying giving you a few commands and then we can get dinner.” John sat next to me on the bed, giving me a nod and a nudge.
I walked to the row of shelves and looked even closer. It was hard to walk and observe without feeling my hard cock pressing against the seams of my underwear. I knew John would notice, and when I looked back at him, I could see that he was watching me intently, his hand holding his bulge through his shorts.
I picked up a leather collar with fur on the inside. A small gold lock kept it shut. “How about this?”
“Ah, it’s a little too early for that. That’s for boys who dedicate themselves to their Master. Like a kinky engagement ring.”
I blushed, and thought about a boy who would wear it.
“You picked your item, now it’s my turn to see what you’ve got.” He rubbed his bulge ever so slightly, and I questioned the intentions of his turn.
“The start to any session is an inspection. A way for the Master to see and understand his boy. To make plans. So let’s start with your inspection. Undress – completely – and I will give you a look over.”
I stood for a second, but knew that deep down I wanted him to look at me. I took off my t-shirt, not taking time to wonder if I did it awkwardly or perfectly. I threw it down on the floor, to an immediate dissatisfaction.
“Just because you strip, boy, doesn’t mean we make a mess. Fold it, and set it here,” he said, gesturing to his lap.
I picked up my shirt and folded it as best I could, setting it down gently in his lap. I didn’t know what to say, so I stepped back and took off my socks, again setting them on his lap. Then my shorts, giving them a quick fold, and realized I was standing there in nothing but tight red boxer briefs, the outline of my cock clearer and harder than ever.
Finally, I slid down my briefs, trying not to bend over too much, and picked them off the floor. I folded them, placing them on John’s lap, my cock standing freely, almost staring at John with a mind of it’s own.
John grabbed my underwear, brought it to his face and took a deep inhale followed by a deep exhale with a soft moan. I stood, waiting, enamored that this man just had his face so incredibly close to my junk.
“Good boy,” he smiled at me. “Ground rule number one. Down here, you refer to me as Sir. Upstairs and elsewhere, you refer to me as John. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” I let out. The first time I said it felt natural, and I could tell the first time John heard it only deepened his desires.
John got up, leaving my clothes on the bed in a pile, my underwear the only garment out of form. He grabbed my dick and I reached for his bulge. As I did, I could feel that it was bigger than I expected. Not just hard cock, but also massive, soft balls. He stuck his tongue in my mouth, and I returned the volley. He pulled back, giving me my clothes.
“A nice start. You’ve got an excellent body. Time for dinner?”
And just like that, I was clothed and sitting in his kitchen again. He asked about takeout and all I could think about was the feeling of his hand on my hard dick. The feeling of his junk, bigger than I imagined. And I felt myself longing to go back into the basement to find out what was next.
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