Page 35 of A Long Con

“Oh yeah?” Berkeley finally nudged a fingertip inside me. I was panting heavily by now, absolutely craving his abuse.

“Slap me again,” I said hoarsely. “Spank me with your finger in my ass.”

But Berkeley had other ideas. “I want you to tell me how badly you craved that boy. How much you wanted him to gulp your beautiful meat.”

And just as he spoke about my meat, he was tying some kind of cock ring on it!

“Oh! God!” I barked. As I relaxed into the tight, stinging feeling, I realized my prick tingled even more. It pulsated with my heartbeat, just hanging on the air like that. Chris talked about girls too. He had a giant hard-on as he jacked himself. It seemed we might have a circle jerk for a second, our spunk arcing onto each other’s stomachs where we could secretly feel and rub our hands around in it.

“Why didn’t you suck his cock?” Berkeley was applying lube to my dick now, too. What was up? “Isn’t that your scene? Pleasuring other men?”

“It is now, but back then I wanted to dominate. To experiment. So finally, I put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to the tiles. It was amazing seeing this boy, his eyes pleading with desire, his mouth just inches from my huge erection.”

“Like this?” Berkeley teased. And he slapped my cock. He slapped my cock!

“Kanapapiki!” I grunted. It hurt at first. It stung me to the very core. But the next few slaps turned me on. Fucking turned me on. Again, precome spurted from my slit.

“You shoved your cock down his throat?” Berkeley urged.

“I did,” I groaned. “Water from the shower head was pouring onto his face, and I choked him further with my big dick.”

“You do have a big dick,” Berkeley said mildly. Slap. Slap. “A big. Beautiful. Dick. Just dying to be spanked.”

“Oh, please,” I begged now. “Let me come.”

“Not so fast.” Now Berkeley wiggled the entirety of a finger, maybe his index finger, up my channel. He was a cunt hair away from stroking my gland, that sensitive area that never failed to blow one’s load. “Tell me about Chris. Was he eager to suck you?”

“Oh God yes.” Slap. “He suckled me so eagerly, like a baby at the tit. He used his entire tongue to stroke the bottom of my rod. Just like I do to you.”

“You’re the best dick-sucker in history.” Slap. Slap. “You’re the best because you’re the most motivated. You. Love. Dick.”

“God I love it.” My ragged breathing was making me light-headed, and every time Berkeley spanked my cock some jism gushed from my slit. It was like having a dozen mini-orgasms, and at the hands of a stud like him was unthinkable. “I love cock. And I think you do too.”

“Of course I do.” Slap. Slap. “Every time I rim your hole you get harder. Every time I slap you, you get harder. It’s almost as though you want—”

“Oh God! Don’t fucking stop! Rub my gland! Spank my dick until I come! Just don’t fucking stop!”

He had found my sweet spot higher up inside my channel, the p-spot where, when massaged correctly, makes men’s eyes cross with lust, has them blasting their loads. When he did that, he grasped my erection and gave me a few tight strokes.

“Come on, Royal. You know you love it. You know you love another man sucking your cock. You know you like taking it up the ass from another man. You know you love me jacking you off, slapping this cock.”

That was all it took. I emptied my load forcefully against the hotel wall as Berkeley massaged my prostate and jacked me off. It was like being back in that shower room plunging my meat into that poor boy’s throat, not caring that I was choking him. My sadistic side came out that day. Maybe someday soon . . . Berkeley and I could turn the tables . . .

It was almost as if I blacked out for a few seconds there. The orgasm seemed to last forever, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting back on the bed, sort of sobbing. Panting jagged breaths as I braced my cuffed wrists together behind my neck. My eyes squeezed shut because I couldn’t look him in the face. I was at a total loss with an utter absence of power.

I was Berkeley’s slave.

“Okay,” I gasped, “you made your fucking point, Berkeley. You can remove these cuffs.”

I could tell by his voice he was amused. Victorious. “Are you still going to sit there and tell me you’re not gay?” I could tell he had his hands on his hips, and his erection was pulsating in his jeans. Delicious. Delectable. “Next time I’m going to chain your collar to the wall.”

I tried to measure my breaths. “Take. The fucking handcuffs. Off.”

He laughed in disbelief. “Fuck you, buddy! Not until you admit you’re gay. Fucking admit it. You got a yen in you before you even fucked that boy’s mouth in the shower. Tell me you love cock. Tell me you love my cock, and I’ll let you go.”

I don’t know what got into me. What spurred me to leap to my feet, still completely helpless with cock dangling like a fire hose between my legs, and bellow, “Fucking take the cuffs off, asshole!”

Whoa. Berkeley’s teasing smile vanished. What the fuck had I done? I must’ve looked more the Samoan Slammer than ever, squiggles of long hair flowing, devilish eyebrows arching, missing a loincloth.