by Brandon Witt
He bucked once in my hold before realizing what I had said. Startled, he raised his head in query. “What? Don’t you want to…?”
He looked astonished and more than a little bit hurt. Could he be unsure about my arousal for him? I thought it was pretty obvious from the hardness of my erection threatening to bust my zipper. I dropped a quick peck on his mouth to reassure him without getting lost in the amazement of his lips again. “Of course I want to! Can’t you feel this?” I rotated my hips into his to emphasize my point. “But the fact is, I’m on the clock. I have never once in my life had sex while I should’ve been working and I don’t want to start today.”
Patrick clutched me even tighter to him. “I don’t care about that. I’m paying you, so it doesn’t matter what you do, does it?”
The words sunk into my subconscious, and I reacted even before I could blink. I forcefully pushed him away, retreated to the other side of the table where I could think, and pressed down on my erection, willing it away. Patrick stumbled where I had shoved him, caught his heels on the open dishwasher, and had to fling out a hand to keep from falling. I felt terrible about pushing him, but I needed to get away from the physical sensations he created in me so I could clear my head.
“Jake?” he queried in confusion. “What did I say?”
I was working hard not to let the ghosts of Darren Saunders or Old Mr. Graham overtake me. I rubbed my eyes and told myself that Patrick didn’t mean it like it sounded. That Patrick wouldn’t be so low as to think of me like that. That Patrick was too much of a gentleman to think such a thing.
“Jake?”
I whirled on him and involuntarily spat the words out. “You’re paying me so it doesn’t matter what I do? Isn’t that what you said? So you’re paying me and can tell me what to do? And I have to do it? So what is it, Prostitute Day? Today you want to fuck me so I should just take it because you’re paying me? And of course, I’m gay so it isn’t going to matter to me, is it? A little fuck up the arse will be a bonus to my work day. It doesn’t matter who the dick belongs to, does it?”
With one part of my brain I could see that Patrick looked appalled at what I was saying, but the majority of my thinking had cycled back to the past. I could see Darren Saunders with his huge leer and even bigger cock telling me to bend over and enjoy it, all because he was paying me. And behind Darren was Mr. Graham with his beady, evil eyes, telling me that his customer had requested I spend some time with him, and I would have to if I wanted to keep my job.
Patrick’s whispered words brought me back to the present. “Someone told you that?”
I blinked a couple times to clear my vision and realized with dread what I had shouted. I apologized instantly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”
Patrick shrugged off the apology and stuck with the rest. “I can’t believe that someone would expect you to….”
I shook my head at his naïveté. “Patrick, I’m a poor, gay boy. I get paid minimum wage because I don’t have any other choice. If I demand more money, then I get fired and some poor other dolt is hired. If I were a woman, I could cry sexual harassment, but no one is going to take a poor, gay guy seriously—especially a gay guy with no connections, making claims against his boss who is perceived to be straight and an upstanding citizen. It’s my word against theirs.”
“When did this happen?”
I didn’t even pretend that it hadn’t happened to me. Patrick was too smart not to see through my lies if I suddenly started backpedaling. I folded my arms across my chest, hugging myself, telling myself that it was all in the past and those men couldn’t affect me anymore. “Which time?”
“It happened more than once?” Patrick’s voice rose in pitch.
I sighed. “It happens, mate. Even Charlie hired me because he wanted some cute gay guy to flirt with the customers. It’s good for business.”
He frowned. “Charlie expects you to…?”
I tried to calm his distress. “Of course he doesn’t expect me to actually have sex with the customers, and definitely not on his time, but he expects me to flirt. A man trying to get into my pants is going to buy more beers than one who is shot down at the first suggestive remark.”
Patrick tore at the tie that was somehow still around his neck, stripping it off and throwing it on the table. “So when I suggested we…. You thought I was telling you I’d pay you for sex?”
“Yes. Sorry. I know I overreacted.”
He shook his head forcibly at me. “No way. Don’t apologize to me. In a way I was suggesting it—suggesting that I didn’t care what you did on my dime, anyway. I definitely wasn’t suggesting that I pay you for sex. But I can see what you mean. No fooling around between 9:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. I’ve got it now.”
I relaxed when I understood he wasn’t going to push the issue. The tension between us dispelled and I saw the funny side of the situation. “Besides, man. How the hell would I explain being naked in the kitchen with you if Mrs. Martha West dropped in to check on me?”
He paled and turned to me. “Oh, God. Don’t even put that thought in my head. Tell me something? Does she look the same way as she sounds?”
I laughed. “How does she sound?”
“Like a dried up old prune who used to be in the army.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Then, yes, she does look as she sounds.” He shuddered dramatically. I pushed him out of the kitchen. “Now, piss off. I have work to do.”
My heart rate had dropped, no longer racing in arousal or fear. I would need to work on my breathing a bit and kicking Patrick out of the kitchen would be a good start.
“Oh, yes. About that….” he started. “I have something I need you to do for me today. Can you be ready in about twenty minutes?”
“Sure. Ready for what? What do you need me to do?”
“Shopping.”
IT TURNED out to be shopping at the pet and gardening supply store on South Street. Patrick called a taxi to take us there, and then asked the driver to return to pick us up forty minutes later. He climbed out of the taxi with Gregor’s harness in one hand and took my elbow.
“Lead on, Oh Great One,” he mocked me. He wanted to play, did he? I was the expert in playing.
“Lead on? To where? I can see a large water feature over there that you might be interested in making a personal acquaintance with,” I teased.
His answering smile was radiant and just a little bit naughty. “Don’t despair. I’ll let you get me all wet in the shower later. There’s no need to be tripping me into a pond to get me to strip off naked.”
Fuck. “For God’s sake, Patrick,” I whispered furiously in his direction. “A little decorum, please? You say things like that in public and they’ll be pointing and laughing at the stiffy I just struck.”
The bastard was not repentant.
It turned out to be a fun trip. We found food for Gregor—extra-large, twenty-five kilo sacks that I hoisted into our rickety trolley, as well as worming tablets and some treatment for fleas. Patrick spent ages touching all the dog toys and making them squeak and rattle, much to my embarrassment. At one stage he picked up a toy and ran his fingers all over it before turning to me and asking, “Jake, what’s this?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a dildo. What the hell do you think it is? We’re in a bloody pet store.”
“Idiot. I mean what’s the shape meant to be? This one’s a doggie bone, and this one’s shaped like a meat steak. So what’s this?”
“It’s a sausage.”
“Oh. You’re right. It would work better as a dildo.”
I choked on my tongue, but that didn’t stop him, and the sexual innuendos began falling thick and fast while I ground my teeth and kept silent.
“Ooh. I like this dog collar. Would it fit you, do you think?
“Do you think I’d be arrested if I gave my dog a boner?
“What color are these? I think I have a serious case of blue balls over here.
“Jake, come here and feel this hairy snake.
“Look! Two fluffy balls!
“What the hell is this? It feels like a whip with a feather on the end of it.”
In exasperation I snatched the cat toy off him.
“It’s a feather you dangle for a cat to play with,” I growled.
His eyebrows went up. “I like things that dangle too. Do I get to play?”
The man is going to drive me insane!
Of course there were the blind jokes too.
“Fish. I think I should get some fish, don’t you think, Jake? Every blind man should have some fish to watch. Oh, wait…. Never mind.
“This stuff smells better than what I get from the shop. You should just chuck a couple of these in the biscuit tin and I’ll never know the difference!
“They have snakes for sale here? Cool! Can you take me? I always wanted to see one. Oh, wait…. Never mind.
“Do they have doggie sunglasses here, Jake? I want to get Gregor a pair so we can match. I’d love to see people’s reaction as they try to work out if it’s me or Gregor who is the blind one!
“Do you think I could get a rooster? I know you’re not allowed a rooster in the suburbs because they crow all the time. I could tell the Council that it’s my ‘seeing-eye rooster.’ He looks and tells me when the sun comes up.”
There was a giggle behind me, and I looked to see a teenager eavesdropping and stealing admiring looks at Patrick. Oh, dear God. Save me!
It was another ten minutes until the taxi was due back, but I pushed Patrick toward the checkout anyway and unpacked the trolley full of goodies. Another giggly young woman served us, and Patrick flirted outrageously, asking her if she thought a pink ball or a green ball would be better for his dog and telling her he thought she smelled divine. She tittered and blushed, stammering out her answers.
Then Patrick leaned in close to her and gestured in my direction, asking the young woman, “What do you think of my friend here? He tells me he’s ugly and twenty kilos overweight. Is that true?”
The girl with the large name tag proclaiming that she was Bec and she would be very happy to help me, shot me a look from under her lashes and whispered back, “He’s not as handsome as you, but if he asked me on a date, I’d say yes in an instant.”
I hefted the twenty-five kilo bag of dog biscuits and turned away from Patrick’s smug grin. But I couldn’t help but overhear Patrick’s murmured reply, “Hmm. I’d better say yes, then. That is, if he ever asks me on a date.” I fled before I could hear anything more.
As I waited for Gregor and Patrick to join me outside the store, I checked my phone for the time. Shit! Twenty-five minutes until 3:00 p.m.! In twenty-five minutes I would officially be off the clock, no longer in Patrick’s employ, and no longer with anything to hold me back. Did Patrick want to pick up where we left off in the kitchen? Did he really want me? Or did he just feel embarrassed that he’d asked me to bring him off the other night? Was I a willing body, or did he really like me for who I was? Was it a one-off, or something more? Did I even care?
Shit! I was due at Ellie’s house after work.
I stared at the minutes slowly ticking over on my phone and heard Patrick move up beside me. Gregor stood watchfully between us.
“Is the taxi here yet?” he asked.
“No.”
I stared at his handsome profile and then did something that I had never done in my entire life. Twenty-six years and I had never, ever done what I was about to do. I thumbed the contact list in my phone, and with a couple of taps, I sent my sister a message telling her some job had come up and I needed to work. Twenty-six years and I’d always put my family first—family over friendship, over education, over recreation. And now, with a glance at a man who had somehow become important in my life, I was blowing off my sister.
For sex.
You fucking horny bastard, Jake!
THE MINUTES ticked by with excruciating slowness. Once home, I labeled the dog food tins with the braille labeler and put the items on the shelf. I inspected each of the rooms in the house and made sure I had put all the items away. I had my head in the fridge, checking Patrick had enough supplies for the morning, when a sound behind me had me spinning around.
A heavy footfall, and then an electronic voice intoned, “The-time-is…three-oh-one-pee-em.”
I looked up to see Patrick pressing the button on the clock. He had a cute but leering grin as he looked at me expectantly. “Are you finished for the day, yet? Have I stopped paying for your time now?”
My feet fairly flew across the room, and within a second I had Patrick’s face between my hands and was pulling him down for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. In the back of my mind, I was yelling to myself to take it slow, make sure that this was what the guy wanted, but Patrick clutched me tight and kissed me back with fervor. Any objections I had flew out the window.
I found myself pushed up against the wall and being kissed within inches of my life. Patrick may’ve been blind, but he sure knew how to kiss. His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue erotically making forays into my mouth. His body was thin, but surprisingly strong, as he pushed up against me and held me in place so that he could rub against me in a full body contact. I clutched his shoulders and tried to keep up. He frantically rotated his hips, showing me how aroused he was.
“Patrick… wait… the bedroom….” I could hardly get the words out, and as soon as they were, I forgot all about them. The bedroom? Who needs a bedroom?
I felt Patrick’s hands at my belt and moaned my encouragement. He fumbled and lost his grip a couple of times because my hips wouldn’t stop moving, but finally he drew down my zipper and pushed aside my cotton underwear, shoving them down my thighs so he could reach my flesh. It was all I could do to concentrate on not coming at that moment. We had been building up to this for hours and I was ready to blow, but I controlled myself with effort and concentrated on the touch of his smooth fingers wrapping themselves around my cock.
“Oh, God! Yes, Patrick.”
He pumped me several times, up and down, up and down. I could only just remember how to move my lips and continue to kiss as the sensation of a hand that wasn’t mine registered with my brain. In the previous hours, I had idly calculated when I’d last been with someone. Regrettably for my bad-ass image, I could only remember one encounter in the past four months, and that had been an anonymous blowjob. But I had been masturbating once a day before I met Patrick and then triple that for the past weeks.
And now the guy I’d fantasized about had his hand on my cock. Oh, bliss!
His dexterity with his own pants was far superior and I barely had time to register the loss of touch before Patrick’s cock was lined up against mine where he could pump us both, all the while kissing me stupid. I broke away from his mouth in order to groan loudly and urge him on faster.
“Like this?” he asked me, speeding up. I could only hold on and let him drive. Our bodies were fused together with just enough room for his moving hand. He abandoned my mouth and dived for that sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet.
“Oh, God. Fuck, Patrick. Yes!”
Not exactly a verbal genius at the best of times, I was reduced very quickly to single syllable sentences, mostly containing the word “yes.” It felt like the top of my head was lifting off, and in a huge rush I came, ejaculating all over Patrick’s hand and his shirt. He continued to pump, pulling the semen out of me until I had to halt his hand, as I was too sensitive for him to continue.
I glanced down and saw he was still gloriously erect and still rocking his hips into mine, searching for pressure and friction. My mouth began to water and I dropped to my knees. His cock was beautiful and I vowed to examine it thoroughly—but later. Much, much later.
I dropped my head and drew him into my mouth. The taste of my own fluid hit my tongue, but it wasn’t the first time I’d tasted myself and it wouldn’t be the last. I sucked him in deep, allowing my saliva to coat his cock b
efore circling his hardness with my tongue.
“Oh, Jake….”
Yep. I still had the knack and I renewed my efforts, sucking him in, bobbing my head to simulate the sexual act that we had yet to get to. I fervently hoped that that sex act wouldn’t be too far away. He pushed himself into my mouth and I allowed him to thrust in, opening my lips wide until he was hitting the back of my throat. He groaned and worked his hips faster into my waiting mouth.
Finally, I needed to breathe and grabbed his dick, pulling off in order to stick my tongue in the tiny slit at the head. I was rewarded with an intense flavor, pure Patrick, bursting on my taste buds. I licked frantically, trying to get more.
I looked up under hooded lids to see his face tightened in pleasure, eyes screwed up as he concentrated on the sensations I was providing.
“Do you want to come in my mouth?” I asked. I was startled by the ice blue of his eyes as they flew open and peered sightlessly at me. It was as if a bright blue fire had been lit in them, and it was all because of me.
“Can I?”
It was a risk I had been taught to take seriously. Doctors lectured you on HIV and STDs, websites continuously changed their minds about the level of risk you had with different sex acts, and you always knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who had contracted something from an innocent lapse in judgment. But it had been a while since I’d been with someone who was more than just a familiar face across the room. I didn’t think Patrick would dick me around. He would tell me upfront if he was a risk. And I had no open sores in my mouth. And fuck it, I wanted his taste.
“Come for me now, baby. In my mouth where I can taste you.”
I encircled his erection once again and provided suction. Using my tongue to increase the pressure on the underside of his arousal, I began to bob. Patrick found my hair with his hand and ran through the short spikes, urging me on faster and deeper.
“Jake!”
His shout was my warning before jets of fluid filled my mouth. I swallowed desperately, trying to get it all, but Patrick must’ve been saving it for me for days because it felt like liters of ejaculate, and it ended up spilling from my mouth and dribbling down my chin. I fucking loved it!
