Wasn’t his first tutoring session.
“Now pay attention.” Kent started over, reading the question from the start, and going over what should have been the correct answer. Only then did he ease the guy’s mouth off his cock. “Now you solve it.”
He held the paper for the guy as Nick stammered his way through the problem, this time getting it correct.
“Excellent. Now explain to me what you did wrong.”
The kid wasn’t stupid, he was just having trouble with some of the formulas and principles in the course. Nothing Kent hadn’t seen others do before.
“Very good, that’s right.” He reached down between the guy’s legs and held his cock, slowly stroking it.
Of course it hardened in his hand. The guy might be straight, but he was a horny jock who could pop wood in a stiff breeze. He softly moaned.
“Now work through it again,” Kent ordered, still slowly stroking him.
The kid seemed to have more trouble concentrating this time, but he made it. Operant-conditioning.
Might make them blush like a motherfucker in class while taking a test, but Kent guaranteed they’d fucking remember the lessons.
And it didn’t cost them a dime.
Just their asses and mouths.
This guy had never so much as played with his own ass, so as the evening progressed, Kent put him on his back in bed, legs spread and knees bent, reading aloud from his textbook a section he was having problems with. All the while, Ken worked two gloved fingers into the guy’s ass as he blew him to loosen him up.
It took nearly two hours until Kent could fuck him, which he did with the guy on his hands and knees and reading aloud while Kent gave him a slow reach-around. He waited until the guy came on his cock before dropping his own load inside him, and then Nick promptly fell asleep.
Sometimes that was for the best. He might retain the lesson better that way.
When Nick awakened about an hour later, Kent ordered them pizza, and then round two of studying started. And when Kent gave him a problem to work that was similar to some of the ones he’d had trouble understanding before, Nick correctly solved it the first time.
Which earned him ten minutes of Kent sucking his cock.
Stick…and carrot.
By the time they collapsed in bed late that night, Kent was worn out, and so was his latest “student.” He’d drained both of them dry in the process.
At least the guy was well on his way to pulling his grade out of the crapper, and was, so far, readily taking to Kent’s form of “training.” Some guys, it took a little longer to persuade them to let go and relax and enjoy it. In those cases, Kent took more time blowing them, rewarded them more, allowing them to let go more readily.
As he lay there and listened to the guy’s breathing while he slept, Kent struggled not to think about Vern, the guy he’d made the stupid mistake of falling in love with as a freshman, the first guy he’d ever been with, who’d been a senior.
The guy who taught him the valuable lesson that just because someone’s happy to fuck you doesn’t mean they want to spend the rest of their life with you.
Woe to the idiot who forgot that lesson, too.
* * * *
Present day
Kent sat across the table from a man he hadn’t seen in thirty years. They’d met at a little cafe in downtown Venice, seated on a veranda outside. It was a rare gorgeous late Wednesday afternoon, just a hint of breeze and temps in the low eighties, making it comfortable.
“You surprised to see me?” Vern grinned, and Kent hated that a little part of his heart still thumped with desire.
“Yeah, honestly, I am. What brings you to Venice?”
“Business, mostly. I was on Facebook last week in the alumni group and saw you and thought I’d look you up. You look good. Real good.”
Kent had seen him on the alumni group but had never gone to visit his profile, much less send him a friend request.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to block him, either, even though he knew he should have.
Kent stared at him from behind the safety of his mirrored sunglasses and considered his response. “Thanks. Time’s been good to me.”
The only reason he’d agreed to meet with Vern was because he did have a lot of pull up in Tallahassee. It figured the asshole ended up living in the same state as Kent.
“Wife? Kids?” Vern asked.
“No, and hell, no. Still gay. And through with love.” You took care of that, asshole.
But he didn’t say that. Not out loud.
“Heard you built quite a side business with the cougars before you graduated.”
Kent didn’t know who Vern had been talking to, but he wanted to strangle them. Considering it’d been Vern who’d introduced him to his first cougar, and to the fine art of “tutoring” jocks, Vern’s comment shouldn’t have pissed Kent off as much as it did.
But it did. “Old news. What’s that have to do with today?”
Vern’s gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean what’s wrong?”
“Why are you acting so defensive?”
Really? Let’s do this.
Kent leaned in and dropped his voice. “You were the first guy to fuck me, you made me think you were in love with me, then taught me a very valuable and painful lesson about guarding my heart. I haven’t heard from you in three decades, and you call me out of the blue to get together for lunch, and now you start talking about something I left in the past. I don’t know, how’s life treated you?”
“Seriously? You’re still upset over that? We were kids in college. No one takes that shit seriously.”
“Obviously some of us took it a little more seriously than others.”
Vern sat back and appeared to regard him for a moment. “Sorry. Didn’t know it meant that much to you.”
Kent sucked in a long breath so he didn’t fucking scream. “What’s today about, Vern?” He considered it a personal victory that he kept his tone steady, even.
Non-screamy.
Vern still had that playful, sexy smile he’d had back in college. Some grey in his dark blond hair, but his blue eyes sparkled with mirth even though he had more lines on his face now. And while he’d put on a little weight, he still looked good.
Damn him.
“How you spending your free time lately?” Vern asked.
“Working, mostly. You?”
“Oh, come on. We had a lot of fun. You know we did.” Vern’s smile widened. “Been thinking a lot about the monster lately.”
Oh no, he didn’t. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m in town all this week and next. Wouldn’t mind getting together, for old time’s sake. Wife and kids didn’t come with me this trip. I’m free nearly every night. Would love to…catch up.” He dropped Kent a wink.
Kent shoved aside the memory of how gorgeous Vern had looked the first time he’d tackled the monster and impaled himself on it, the victorious joy as he’d thrown his head back, moaning as he rode him, while Kent stroked his cock for him.
“Sorry, I can’t.” Kent sat back and picked up the menu to scan it, hoping to contain his rage.
“Dude, come on.” Vern’s smile widened even as his voice dropped. “I used to be able to roll your eyes back in your head. You damn sure rolled mine.”
Kent didn’t look up at him. “Unlike in my broke college days, I don’t sleep with married people without their spouse’s consent. Unless you’d like to get your wife on the phone right now so I can make sure it’s okay with her if we fuck? Tell her they really don’t make condoms my size, so breeding you raw’s cool, right? Make sure she’s not fucking around on you so I don’t catch anything?”
Vern’s smile faded. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”
“Well, you don’t have to be a douche, dude.” He closed the menu and dropped it on the table, then reached up and rubbed at the slight ache in his chest, his angina acting up again. Probably the stress. “I have a
life. I have friends and a significant other, none of whom are any of your business.”
Okay, so that last part was a lie, but fuck him. “Yet you drop in out of the blue to proposition me for sex after thirty goddamned years ago you made a fool out of me? You can order dongs online bigger than me. Get one of them and have your wife fuck you with it.”
Unable to contain his rage, Kent stood, dropped a couple of twenties on the table to cover the price of their drinks and to tip the waitress, and stared down at the guy.
I let him break my heart? “Have a good life, Vern. Please don’t contact me again.” Kent strode off, his hands trembling as he climbed into his Mercedes and pulled out of the parking lot.
He let the rage boil over on 41 on his way home, screaming at the top of his lungs inside the closed car when he was stopped at a red light. With Three Days Grace blasting at eardrum-splitting levels, hopefully no one could tell what he was doing.
Fucker.
Fucking fuckety fucking goddamned motherfucker!
How many countless hours had he cried himself to sleep over that motherfucker, all while self-medicating by fucking other guys—and married women?
Although, to be fair, technically the guys were work and it did help them, and the women were business and paid him to ride the monster.
Back then, he hadn’t thought he was hurting anyone.
With some age and perspective, he wasn’t exactly proud of himself for sleeping with married women, but they’d all been older than him, so technically he still held the moral high ground of they should have known better.
And he wasn’t trying to wreck any marriages, either, just make some money and get through college.
Motherfucker.
It was the middle of the week, and he now had a mind full of snakes to dump…somewhere.
Fuck it.
At home, he threw a few things into a duffel bag, climbed back into the Mercedes, and headed north.
He needed to vent, and he knew exactly the perfect place to fucking do it, too, on a weekday night, when he didn’t want to let the past bleed into his present.
Chapter Ten
Paul had difficulty focusing on his work all day. He’d awakened hard and horny and already under orders not to masturbate because of their plans for tonight.
Tonight!
Of course that made it more torturous. That was Tim’s intent, to mentally work Paul up as much as possible ahead of time.
Sadist.
Dammit, I love that guy.
They hadn’t been to Ybor in three months, mostly because of their workload. Despite Tim giving him spankings and devising all sorts of devious, evil torments for him at home, Paul could feel the stress pulling, weighing on him.
Last night, Tim had asked him if he wanted a night at the club, and Paul had jumped at the offer.
But only if they went together.
Going on five years together and four years married, Paul had no desire to attend the club alone, even if he knew he could more easily find the time to get over there alone and get his itch scratched. Tim had offered him that option, but the only time he’d tried it, Paul hadn’t made it out of the dressing room before turning around, getting dressed, and returning home.
The most important part of the secret sauce was Tim.
Paul needed him.
Even if all Tim did was sit there and smoke a cigar and send him out to other Tops for the evening and watch while Paul did it.
Or even if all he did was kneel at Tim’s feet all night while Tim sat there and enjoyed a drink and conversations with others.
Or if Tim took him up to the third floor, handed out condoms, and let random Tops pound their cocks into his ass.
But none of it could happen unless Tim was there and controlling it.
Paul needed the security and the release of his Daddy watching over him. There wasn’t another person in the world he trusted the way he trusted Tim, and being pup was now forever woven around and through that trust.
And he craved being his Daddy’s piggy. Even more, putting on a show for him.
Being his good boy.
Tim wore a sexy, hungry smile when he knocked on Paul’s office doorway. They’d dropped the boss and employee charade years back, not long before they’d married and became full partners in work as well as in love. “Ready to go?”
“Yes, Sir.” Paul practically bounced out of his chair and noticed Tim’s playful smile.
Tim pulled him in for a kiss. “Who’s my good piggy?” he whispered.
Paul smiled. “Me, Daddy.”
“That’s right. You’re going to be a good piggy for me tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Tim smiled up at him. “I love how sexy you look when you know you’re about to get used hard.”
Paul lost against the urge to rub his hard cock against Tim’s side and started humping him. “Can we go, please?”
Tim chuckled. “Sure, baby. Come on. Let’s go scratch your itch.”
They’d reserved their usual hotel room. Sure, it was a Wednesday night, but they were taking tomorrow morning off after several weeks of working late into the evenings and on weekends, and would return to work tomorrow morning straight from the hotel.
Not that anyone else in the office would know that.
They headed to the hotel first to drop off their stuff and change from street clothes. It’d save Tim time not having to change at the club, because he was street-legal in his jeans and black leather vest.
Paul had changed into baggy board shorts and a T-shirt. He’d pup out in the dressing room at the club, and those would be the clothes he wore back from the club later.
Tonight, Tim had brought a few implements to use on Paul’s ass. While Tim frequently gave him bare-handed spankings, Paul liked more.
Needed it.
Tonight, Tim would give it to him.
Once they were ready to head over to the club, Tim pulled him close and kissed him. “You’re going to be my good piggy tonight and do what I say, right?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Including not coming unless I give you permission to.”
Paul’s cock twitched in his board shorts. He knew Tim would make him come, but it amped up his need. He knew his tone was borderline whining now and didn’t care. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good boy. Let’s go play.”
* * * *
Kent found a parking spot in the garage, grabbed his bag, and headed toward the club. He didn’t like this option, because the monster didn’t take well to being wrapped. For starters, there was only one brand of condoms, imported from Germany, that he’d found would even marginally fit over his cock without splitting, and even then sometimes it was nearly impossible for him to come while wearing them. Rolling them on meant the equivalent of rolling on a cockring because of the excess material at the base.
Pulling out to unwrap and whack off and squirt on a guy’s ass wasn’t nearly as satisfying as finishing inside his ass.
Kent also wasn’t fond of not having control over who was present. When he threw a party, he knew his guests, had sat down and talked to them ahead of time and found them people he could at least relate to, even if he didn’t want to fuck them personally. Knew they weren’t assholes.
Saw current test results.
There would no doubt be power bottoms here tonight who would eagerly and greedily let him plow them raw without needing a lot of prep first, but he’d be damned if he’d fuck any of them bare.
But the deep level of rage seething within him right now needed an outlet, and a willing ass to unleash it on.
Over the years, it was the only thing that worked. It’d been a long time since he’d felt this…dark.
He’d used the club as a meeting spot in the past, when he’d made a connection online and needed a neutral, populated space to get together with the other person where he didn’t have to worry about who heard their conversation.
Not having them in his home, at
first.
He never invited strange guys back to his house. Especially never alone. Having them over for one of his parties was different. Plus anyone coming over for a party was referred to him by someone who knew them and who wasn’t willing to sacrifice their own party invite status for a douche.
His master bedroom and home office doors had keypad combo locks on the doors he could activate with the flip of the inside knob to keep people out. Anything he was worried about, he kept in those two rooms and locked others out. Plus, having a houseful of people meant a guy wouldn’t likely try anything stupid.
At the club, he renewed his membership and paid the entry fee. Instead of buying a drink downstairs, he headed straight for the second floor. He wanted a soda, not alcohol, and they were cheaper up on the second floor. He didn’t like to drink and play, especially away from home. That was a recipe for disaster.
Now all he had to do was scope out a willing victim for the night on whom to unleash the monster—and his aggression.
* * * *
Tim watched with a smile as Paul eagerly prepared in the second-floor dressing room. No pup butt plug tail for him tonight. One less logistics issue to deal with once they made their way up to the third floor.
He planned to make sure by the time Paul fell asleep tonight that he had a full belly, an even fuller ass—well, metaphorically speaking, because he’d make the guys wear condoms—and a very sore and well-beaten ass.
His boy had earned it and needed the mental vacation.
Paul also needed this de-stresser now, ahead of some important meetings coming up over the next several weeks and months, including several days down in Miami with Kent Corwin, talking to other companies and software vendors about licensing their logistics software package.
Tim had to stay behind for that one because of another project they were deep into. He couldn’t take that many days away from the office, but Paul could handle it without him. Paul knew the code inside and out, as well as any of their programmers. He could explain it in plain English to any corporate executives who’d also be there whose eyes might glaze over when Paul started talking specifics.