Golden Boy Two-Volume Set

by Claire Thompson

  As his seed streamed in hot spurts against Eric’s tongue and down his throat, he wrapped his arms around Johnny’s ass, pushing at the phallus between his cheeks to heighten Johnny’s pleasure. Johnny shuddered and trembled, his knees buckling in the aftermath of his orgasm. With strong arms Eric eased him to the ground. As Johnny lay panting, Eric knelt next to him and said, “You aren’t done yet, boy. Now we’ll exchange the phallus for my cock and you’ll show me your grace.”

  Though he’d only just orgasmed a few minutes before, Johnny could feel his cock tingle with anticipation as Eric knelt behind him, rolling a condom onto his own erect shaft. After Johnny had recovered a little, Eric instructed, “I want you to crawl behind me, slave,” Johnny’s cock, nearly flaccid after his strong orgasm, at once perked up at this command. He felt himself descending—or was it ascending—into the delicious submissive place in his psyche where he was less than—or was it more than—human—an object of his master’s pleasure and devious whims.

  His cock rose with the rejuvenation of youth and lust as Eric attached a leash to the chain at his nipples and gently tugged him out of the room. Johnny admired Eric’s well-shaped ass as he strode in front of him down the hall, his legs strong and tan. Johnny scrambled behind him on all fours, the dildo still lodged deep in his ass.

  First Eric led him into the bathroom. As Eric filled the sink with hot soapy water he said, “Take that out and drop it in here. You can clean it properly later.” Johnny obeyed, feeling the hot submissive shame that always mingled with a powerful lust as he pulled the dildo from his ass and leaned up to drop it hurriedly into the sink.

  With a yank to the leash, Eric indicated Johnny should again assume his doggy position on the ground. Pulling the leash, Eric moved back to the bedroom, Johnny right behind him, his cock now rigid.

  Eric stopped by the side of the bed and pulled Johnny gently up on his knees. “Serve me,” Eric said, looking down at his own erect shaft. Johnny didn’t need to be told twice. Eagerly he knelt up, taking Eric’s thick, throbbing member into his mouth, sucking it a moment with relish before letting it slide out. Slowly he teased Eric’s cock, twirling his tongue along the shaft as if following the painted lines of a barber pole.

  When he was satisfied Eric’s cock was completely engorged, he slid his lips down it, creating friction as he went, wresting a moan from his lover that thrilled him. Eagerly he took Eric’s shaft deep into his throat, trying to take it as far as Eric had, trying to get his nose into Eric’s nest of dark curling pubic hair. Though he still lacked the skill Eric did when it came to fellatio, Johnny hoped he made up for it in enthusiasm. He loved the feel of Eric’s shaft in his mouth. He loved the power of making his dominant lover moan and arch against him, for that one moment completely at his mercy.

  But Eric pulled away, laughing a little. “Don’t be so eager, slut boy. You’ll make me come before I’m ready. I’m saving my seed for your hot little ass. You know that. Now get up on the bed and present yourself to me.”

  Eagerly Johnny obeyed. Lust and a desire to please Eric outweighed any lingering nervousness. Though the dildo he’d had up his ass was smaller than Eric’s erect cock, it was less yielding than warm human flesh. He had taken it with grace! Johnny couldn’t help but grin at the realization. He had managed to get that thing all the way into his ass without protesting, without shamefacedly begging Eric not to make him do it as he had too many times before.

  How unexpected yet how incredibly hot it had been when Eric knelt before him, sucking his cock, even letting him come! Eric usually withheld Johnny’s orgasm until after he had had his own pleasure. He had explained this would keep Johnny more on the edge of submissive attentiveness. Yet now, though Eric had permitted him to come, he was again on fire, ready and eager, even desperate to please his master with his newfound grace.

  Eric stood next to him, taking the leash in his hand. Johnny expected him to unclip it from the chain. Instead he hooked the end of it to a loop of rope they always kept tied on each of the iron posts of Eric’s large bed. Johnny gasped a little as Eric pulled lightly on the leash, drawing the chain between his pierced nipples taut.

  “Now when I fuck you, you’ll feel each thrust in your nipples, slave boy. It will help you remember the erotic dichotomy of pleasure and pain.” Johnny’s cock throbbed at these hot, dominant words. Eric knew how to instantly put him into a submissive headspace.

  As he knelt tethered by his pierced nipples, Johnny dared to glance back at Eric, who was squirting a small dollop of lubricant over the head of his sheathed cock. Johnny wished he wouldn’t use a condom, but Eric had always insisted, explaining he’d been with many men over his lifetime, and though he’d always practiced safe sex and always tested negative, he felt the precaution wise until they’d been monogamous for at least a year.

  He had said that during lovemaking and it wasn’t until later Johnny processed the import of his statement. Monogamous for at least a year. For a man like Eric, once one of the hottest players on the gay scene, the statement was extraordinary indeed. Johnny still burned with a quiet pride at the thought he was the one Eric had chosen at last.

  As Eric’s cock head touched his anus, Johnny felt his body start to clench out of habit. Through sheer force of will he commanded himself to relax, to open himself, to give himself to his master. “Yes,” Eric said softly. Johnny could feel his strong fingers grip his hips as Eric began to press his cock between Johnny’s ass cheeks. Johnny moved back to receive him, the tug against his nipple rings sending sweet spirals of pain to mingle with the pleasure in his loins.

  As Eric penetrated his body, using him in this most intimate of ways, Johnny felt himself ascending fully to a submissive headspace, his body at ease, his blood thrumming with passion, his cock hot to the touch, aching with desire. He began to move and sway in rhythm to Eric’s thrusts, his panting a harmony to Eric’s moans. When he felt Eric’s fingers curl around his cock, sliding up and down the shaft as he moved deep inside Johnny’s body, Johnny’s pleasure was complete. He actually felt if he died at just that moment, it would be the right time.

  Love, lust, passion, submission, grace. It all came together for the first time in such a potent combination Johnny felt he might faint from the intensity. Eric’s strong hand held him by the hip while his other hand wrought nearly unbearable pleasure. As Eric’s tempo increased, his breathing labored, his hand fell from Johnny’s cock.

  Reaching around him, Eric released the leash from its chain. Grabbing Johnny by both hips he slammed into him, no trace of gentleness left as lust overcame him completely. “Jesus, Johnny! Jesus!” Eric slammed into him one last time, the force of his thrust pushing Johnny down onto the bed. He felt his own orgasm wrenched from him as Eric came inside of him, his creamy ejaculate spurting beneath him as he fell.

  They lay as they had fallen, a tangle of legs and arms, beating hearts, mingled sweat and whispered sweetness.

  ~*~

  “J! I thought you’d died and gone to queer heaven!” Johnny laughed. It had been too long since he’d seen his dear friend Amanda Forrestal. After befriending him in a public library the year before, she’d managed to slip past his usual defenses, impervious to his charms. It had taken him a while to figure out she was gay, a fact that amused her until she’d learned just how repressed and unaware he was of his own sexuality.

  Amanda, with her pierced lip and eyebrow, her short spiky hair always tinted a different color and that wild snake tattoo curving up her arm, was so different from anyone Johnny had ever known or at least befriended. It wasn’t just the fact she was openly gay that had intrigued him. It was her honesty more than anything that had captured his heart. That, and the relief he’d felt being with a woman who wasn’t sexually attracted to him. He knew the feelings she had for him held no ulterior motive based on his blond good looks or his green-gold eyes.

  She’d known he was gay before he did. Or more accurately, she’d admitted it sooner. She’d seen him through the worst
of his angst and terror, a steadfast and loyal friend. And when he’d nearly let Eric go, hurt and embarrassed by events and his family’s discovery of his “perversions”, Amanda had been the one to step in, to insist he grow up and be true to his heart instead of his fears.

  These past months, with school, the part-time job and his burgeoning love affair with Eric, Johnny had let his friendship with Amanda idle and drift. He knew she’d been hurt by his absence, though she told him she understood. “I was young once,” she had quipped, though in fact she was younger than he was.

  Amanda had been in a monogamous relationship with her partner Marlon for several years. They lived together and spent every moment they could with each other, but Marlon worked nights as a bartender and Amanda worked days. Johnny and Amanda had had a standing Wednesday night out and Johnny missed that connection. Now that the spring session at college had ended, Johnny had more time on his hands. He planned to sign up for summer classes but meanwhile he thought he’d give Amanda a call. Eric knew Amanda and agreed it would be a great idea for Johnny to reconnect. He didn’t mind a night home alone, he assured Johnny. “As long as you’re next to me when I go to sleep,” he’d said, smiling.

  They agreed to meet that Wednesday for dinner and catch up on their lives. When Johnny saw Amanda waving toward him from a table at the burger joint they used to hang out at, he broke into a broad grin, waving back. Her hair was still cut short, today dyed shades of blue and green. She was dressed in her usual batik silks with the black leather boots and long dangling earrings.

  They embraced and she sat again. “You’re late. I ordered us a pitcher of beer.” She held up her own mug, already half empty.

  “I’m sorry,” Johnny said. “The subway ride took longer than I was expecting from Eric’s, er, from our place.”

  “Shacking up, eh?” Amanda grinned. Of course she knew Johnny had moved in with Eric and had applauded the move. “You don’t really know someone ’til you live with them,” she’d said. “Take Marlon for example. I had no idea she wore dentures, slept in a flannel nightie and curlers and owned thirty-six cats.”

  Even gullible Johnny hadn’t been taken in by that one. Unlike the delicate, willowy Amanda, Marlon was more what Johnny had thought of as a “typical lesbian” before he’d learned better. At nearly six feet, she wore her dark hair cut mannishly short and dressed in men’s denim or flannel shirts and jeans. Johnny liked Marlon a lot and knew how much she loved Amanda. He used to dream of finding the kind of closeness they’d seemed to share until he’d met his own true love.

  Over huge burgers and real onion rings, the friends caught up on each other’s lives. Between spoonfuls of hot fudge sundae, Amanda said, “So how’s the family with all this? Pop finally come around to his boy being a homo?”

  Johnny frowned. “I haven’t seen him since I came out. I’ve heard through the family grapevine he intends to shoot me on sight. Frankly I wouldn’t care if I never saw the bastard again.”

  Amanda put her hand lightly on Johnny’s arm, her expression sympathetic. Johnny was surprised at the sudden hot tears behind his lids. Angrily he shook his head, forcing himself to be calm. “I have seen my brother and sister-in-law pretty recently. And my mom is making overtures, again through the grapevine, that she’d like some kind of reconciliation.”

  “That’s great news! I know how hard it is when your family, the people you thought would love you through thick and thin, can suddenly turn on you, rejecting you for finally being truthful. It’s a horrible irony a lot of us have had to go through. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

  “I’m seeing her next Saturday actually. Sandy and Billy have invited us.”

  “Us? As in you and Eric? The new young couple?” Amanda raised her eyebrows.

  “You got it. When I saw them, I said next time we got together, it was both of us or not at all. A package deal. They wouldn’t ask me to leave my live-in girlfriend at home. Why should they expect me to leave Eric?”

  “Hey, J. You’re preaching to the choir on that one! I’m just a little surprised is all. I guess I didn’t give you enough credit! You really have come around since you abandoned me.” She grinned and ducked her head as Johnny swatted at her. “Will your dad be there as well?”

  “Jesus, I sure hope not,” Johnny answered.

  ~*~

  “You’re going where? Who’s going to be there?” Frank’s beefy face was redder than usual. His bushy eyebrows bunched over his eyes, his mouth a clench of disapproval.

  At once Ann mentally chided herself. She shouldn’t have told him—what had she been thinking? Yet if she hadn’t told him, he would have wanted to come too and she couldn’t allow him to just walk in and see Johnny. God only knew what hell would break loose then.

  Her new therapist Dr. Linda Gregory had been encouraging her to be more honest with her husband. “You have a pattern of interaction with each other you need to change,” the therapist had offered during their second session. “You don’t confide in one another. You don’t communicate. Then when something big happens, you’re both stunned at each other’s reactions. You can’t change him, not directly. But you can work on yourself, Ann. You can work toward being more honest and open in your dealings and gently encourage Frank to do the same.”

  Easy for her to say. Dr. Gregory didn’t know Frank Wilson! Though things had actually been better lately. Linda had given Ann “tools”, as she called them. Tools to communicate more effectively without putting her husband on the defensive. Ann had even broached the subject of Johnny, telling Frank one evening as they snuggled together after a rare but satisfying night of making love, she missed him.

  “You know, Frank. He’s still the same Johnny. Still the same good, kind boy he was before we found out. Lots of people are gay, you know. It isn’t a crime.”

  “It is where I come from,” Frank had spat. But then he’d added, “The shop isn’t the same without him. He could handle the difficult engine jobs better than any of us. This kid I got to replace him doesn’t hold a candle to Johnny. I didn’t like to swell his head, but he was a damn good mechanic.” It was as close as Frank would get to admitting he missed him too and perhaps Ann had read too much into it.

  Trying to be more honest and open, she’d said, “I’m going to see Billy and the kids on Saturday. Johnny’s going to be there.”

  “I forbid you to go!” Frank shouted.

  A month ago Ann would have capitulated. But just these few sessions with Linda, not to mention the first one with Eric, had begun to empower her. She hadn’t yet told Frank about the therapy but knew she would soon have to as her secret funds were running low. She’d been relieved when Eric had referred her to someone else, easily accepting her explanation that she wanted to see someone local.

  It had been the strangest experience of her life, coming to spy on her son’s lover, ready to judge and condemn him out of hand. What a shock to discover the kind, gentle man sitting in his warm, comfortable office. How disarmed she’d been by his discerning insights into her own life. She’d found herself telling him things she’d barely been aware of on a conscious level, much less would consider sharing with a total stranger! She’d wanted to continue the exploration after that first session but knew she didn’t dare carry on the charade. Yet the floodgates they’d opened together couldn’t be shut just because she wanted it so and Ann had called him back, asking for another appointment.

  Linda Gregory, a dumpy woman in her forties with a practice in Brooklyn much more convenient to Ann, had turned out to be wonderful in her own way. In truth, Ann was more comfortable with a woman than with a gay man, especially a man who happened to be her son’s boyfriend!

  She tried to figure out what tool Linda would suggest she use to diffuse Frank’s rising anger. “I can see you’re distressed,” she offered.

  “Distressed?” Frank thundered. “Johnny’s coming over to Billy’s place and I assume not for the first time? How long have you been sneaking around behind my ba
ck? Do you go to Johnny’s faggot lover’s house too? Do you all sit around and exchange recipes and sewing ideas?”

  Ann climbed out of the bed, any lingering sweetness between them now forgotten. “Frank, stop it. First of all, he’s my son! I don’t have to have your permission to see my own son.” She moved toward the bathroom to wash her face. Frank followed.

  “He’s a pervert of the worst kind. You saw the pictures! He isn’t just a pansy, he’s a—I don’t even know what he is! A male prostitute! A sicko involved in some kind of twisted sado-masochistic den of filth! He’s no son of mine! You will not go to Billy’s house. I can’t control Billy, though God knows I intend to give him a piece of my mind! Just like you, he always coddled that boy—the two of you kept him from being a man!”

  Frank’s face was a dull red, his eyes flashing as he advanced toward Ann, who shrank back against the bathroom wall. “You are my wife. You will do as I say. Do you understand?” His voice was hard, the anger surging beneath it. Ann knew the warning signs. Now was the time to apologize. To beg him to calm down. To get away as fast as she could.

  Instead, her voice trembling, Ann asserted, “Johnny’s my son. He’s our son. We let him down by shutting him out. We’ve been letting him down for a long time, Frank. He’s with a nice man—a good man. He’s happy for the first time in his life! The first time! And all you can focus on is those photos. Photos that were none of our damn business! You’ve lost your own child because of your prejudice and narrow-minded bigotry!”

  As Frank advanced upon her, she felt the back of his hand smash across her cheek but she felt no pain. Instead she felt curiously elated, never having dared speak so bluntly to her husband in her life. They had let Johnny down, and she for one wasn’t going to let it continue. As she touched the place he’d struck her, she stared wide-eyed at the man she’d spent her life trying to placate. He moved to hit her again, his face contorted with rage.