“Don’t do this to me,” Johann uttered my real name in seemingly a suppressed mix of astoundment, hopelessness, and disorientation as I was walking away from him. He was still naked, with a hard on, lying flat in bed with gaze fixing on me as if it were pleading for a fading presence. I cracked a smile since it was all intentional.
I took Johann to the theater since I wanted a cinema blowjob. Beurre gave me a hand job inside a screening room before but never a blowjob. He eagerly said yes and confirmed he would love to swallow as well, which is strange since he has always been a bit cocky, demanding and conservative.
The movie was packed so nothing happened. On the way home, I asked him to give me a back rub while sitting behind my ride. As relaxing as it was, he reached his hand from behind my back to my belly and slowly slide them through the layer of my boxers, reaching my semi-erected penis. “Give me a full massage later,” I said.
He asked me to shower and not to eat. Typical Johann. Always controlling and talking non-stop. Always proud of his submissive-boy collection that he stored in his phone. Always order them around to feed his pleasure. He even fucked my friend, despite my warning, the friend that later I found out also slept with FJ. I refrained at first since I had been dead tired but he kept on dragging my feet out of the bed.
“I just want a fucking massage!”
“Then take the fucking shower! Why are you in such grumpy mood?”
Slowly I dragged myself out of bed and to the cold shower. It was refreshing somehow, or at least refreshing enough for me to be able to go back into bed and enjoy the massage. “You’re so tense,” he said as his hands were pressing hard against my back muscle.
It was no sooner than that that he was already down on my cock, sucking for dear life. He had never let me cum in his mouth before. Nor had I allow myself to put my cock inside him. It was our card that we held back to gain leverage on each other. From my case, it wasn’t that difficult since he didn’t hold such physical appeal.
A bit of getting head put me back in the game. I turned over and pressed his body down to bed, locking his hands up his head while charging my cock up his throat and shoving it down with my whole lower body weight. He wasn’t able to move away and therefore kept on gagging, spurting saliva all over the unoccupied crack of his mouth. I had never fucked his throat that hard before.
I let go when his face turned red and there was this tear running down his cheekbone. “I want your cock inside me,” that’s all I could make out from his whispering.
“What did you say again?”
“I want your cock.”
“You forgot one word.”
“I want your cock, please.”
“What’s my name?”
“And who are you?”
“No, who are you tonight?”
“I’m your boy.”
I teased with his hole a little bit with my cock while thrusting on top of him, then getting him blindfolded and filmed with my cock drawing imaginary traces over his face. Then I stood up by the bed, putting one leg on his face as he had always wanted to lick the crack between my toes.
It could have gone on but my body didn’t want to play anymore. I got what I wanted. His consent. His will to put himself in the submissive position. His obedience. There gotta be something to top that. With such idea in mind, when he was about to reach climax, I retreated my body and left. “I want food.” He stopped, begged me to stay and
Now that was the point where I cracked a smile. A victorious one, silently. But then, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I didn’t know if it’s the character I was playing or it’s me. Why did it matter, putting him in the reverted position? Why did I have to do it since after all, he was my friend? Was it really a victory or a loss?