From a Jack to a Queen Ch. 02

He stroked my cock in time with his thrusts, and soon our bodies wriggled and contorted out-of-control. My eyes wide open; my head rolled from side-to-side. When he suddenly thrust into me with the force of a jackhammer, my cum shot out of my balls through my cock into mid-air and I felt his scalding jism fill my ass.

To say it was the best orgasm of my life would be an understatement.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night in Fred's bed. He taught me 'secrets' on how to get the most out of being 'submissive'. I listened intently to his every word, and eagerly used my hands and mouth in ways I'd never done before. It surprised me how natural it felt to put his pleasure before my own.

Both of us exhausted, we finally fell asleep. I slept soundly with my head resting on his chest; his arm on my back.

First thing in the morning, the room barely lit from sunrise, Fred turned to me and we kissed. An odd sense of well-being washed over me.

"I love having an orgasm in the morning" he said, his finger on my mouth tracing a circular pattern around my lips; my prick stiffened as I scrambled into position between his wide-split legs.

I had arrived at a new mind-set. A man I truly desired wanted me to satisfy him and I could think of no greater honor and privilege than to be subservient and give him pleasure.

Later, after we had coffee and toast, we were in the shower and Fred had me stand at the end of the tub; leaning forward--hands against the wall holding myself up, legs slightly spread apart.

He lathered his finger with soap and gently finger-fucked my asshole as his loving hand stroked my erection. I cried out when my cum splattered the wall as he brought me to another delicious orgasm.

After we dressed, he drove me back to the bar so I could get my car. We rode in silence.

"Will I see you tonight?" I asked before leaving his car.

He looked at me with an uncomfortable smile on his face. "Johnny...I like you—I like you a lot..."

My heart sank. I'd used those exact words myself to boys I'd spent the night with, but had no plans on seeing again.

He continued, "Yes...yes I want to see you—I want to see you on a regular basis...but, you know--as friends...I'm not ready for an emotional relationship right now...but now that you know what you like—and what I like--I want us to be fuck-buddies...you know, help each other out in times of need...would that be alright with you?"

I faked a smile and said, "Sure—that's fine with me—I'd like that." What else could I say?

As I started my car, tears welled in my eyes. I finally understood how my words, actions and lies had hurt some of the boys in the past that I used and threw away.

I spent the day reading a book Wesley had given me. It was fascinating and I finished it in a few hours. I looked forward to our discussion the next day at work.

I looked at the clock—it was still fairly early and I wanted to get out of the apartment so I showered and dressed and drove to the bar. A glass of wine sounded good to me.

It was a slow night business-wise. I sat at the bar alone and listened to the music and a couple of loud queers shooting pool.

Suddenly, Rafael was next to me.

"Ah, Chica...you all alone tonight? Allow me to buy your next drink and sit by your side."

I guess you could say that Raphael and I were 'rivals' in the sense we both liked beautiful boys and would often go after the same boy in the bar. It seemed to me, that more often than not, I would end up with a boy he rejected.

He was the same size as me, but in much better shape. His landscaping job made him wiry and muscular. I had always found him to be very attractive. His looks and personality made him extremely popular with the boys.

He had never kept it a secret that he desired me.

"You're too pretty to be a man, Chica," he would say. "Come out to my car and I'll show you how a real man treats his boys."

When Larry brought us our drinks we moved to a booth for more privacy. It was a circular booth and the gentleman that Raphael always is, had me slide into the middle. He followed and sat close to me.

"You look unhappy tonight, Chica, tell Raphael what is troubling you."

He had a disarming way of being able to draw conversation out of anyone.

"No...no, I'm alright...just doing a lot of thinking...." I said.

He changed the subject and we spoke of our jobs and our plans for the future. He bought another round while we talked and laughed.

After awhile he made his usual sales pitch.

"Chica, I saw Fred lead you out of here last night—did he make a proper woman of you?"

Raphael laughed when he saw my face turn red.

"It was just a matter of time...." he said.

He took my hand and placed it on his thigh then he turned to me and said, "You know I think you're the prettiest boy in here...you have always excited me..."

He moved my hand onto the bulge in his jeans then continued, "...you make my blood boil...it would be my honor if you would join me in my car."

And there it was—my first serious proposition as a 'sub'. I was both exhilarated and sad. It was a tremendous compliment that this gorgeous man desired me, yet at the same time, I knew he only wanted me to be his backseat bitch for the night.

There wasn't much to think about. I pressed my palm flat against his hard-on and rubbed up-and-down on it.

"I'd love to," I said smiling at him.

His eyes grew big—my answer surprised him. Then he smiled and we clinked our glasses together in celebration and finished our drinks.

I followed him out to the parking lot; he unlocked his car and opened the back door; I climbed inside. He was quickly beside me.

He took me in his arms and whispered, "Ohhh, Chica, you don't know how I dreamed of this moment...."

His words made me feel special--a sudden warmth rushed over me. I initiated the first kiss. His lips were soft yet firm and our mouths and tongues melded together as one.

All thoughts drained from my mind. The only thing that mattered was the here-and-now.

I rubbed his hard cock through his jeans; he moaned into my mouth. I became impatient—my fingers undid his jeans and quickly slid them and his boxers down to his knees.

I could only see the silhouette of his cock in the darkness and it excited and inflamed me. I had to have it.

When I took his prick in my hand and caressed it he groaned, "Oohhh—Chica...."

His cock was even warmer than Fred's. I guess I had never noticed how soft, smooth and hot a hard penis really is.

I couldn't wait—I went down on him before he could say a word.

He groaned and sat back as I worked on his brown, rigid pole. His aroma filled my head with lust. I loved the taste of his pre-cum.

I caressed him with my hands, lips and tongue—just the way Fred had taught me. I was rewarded with the sounds of satisfaction coming deep from within his throat, and the feel of his hand stroking my hair and the back of my neck.

I ignored the throbbing of my own hardness--my man's pleasure came first.

I was lost in the sucking. My head bobbed up-and-down on his manhood, savoring his smell and flavor and the texture of his flesh.

When he began thrusting upwards, my hand stroked his shaft faster, and I took more of his cock into my mouth.

Suddenly he reached over and squeezed my cock through my slacks. I nearly lost my mind as I emptied my balls into my shorts. I soiled my boxers with a seemingly endless stream of semen.

"OH-CHICA..." he cried out.

His cum flooded my mouth; I reveled in the taste of his creamy juice. I swallowed mouthful-after-mouthful as his hips wildly bucked and he held my head firm against his exploding cock.

When he sat back and released his grip on my head, I licked and cleaned his cock and pubic area of the cum that had escaped my mouth.

Both of us were breathing heavily. He stroked my hair.

Oohh, Chica...you're a natural...you were born to suck cock...."

I took that to be the highest compliment a bottom could receive. I was positively glowing with satisfaction.

We stayed in his backseat a long time. I held and caressed his balls while we talked.

"You are going to be a happier boy from now on, Chica," he said. "...be proud of who you are...you are free from your inhibitions now...don't take any shit from assholes—and there are a lot of them out there...you are smart and pretty—don't settle for just any hard prick!"

We both could smell the semen in my pants. It was erotic. I kissed his lips and neck and caressed his prick until he was hard again. I lowered my head and sucked him off one more time; all the while humming with contentment.

I didn't fully understand what Raphael had explained to me--I became obsessed with sucking cock. Every cock was different in a thrilling way: small, large, fat, thick, thin...and every guy's cum tasted different, too. While most was pleasant and flavorful, some tasted foul and nasty.

It seemed to me that if I thought a guy was nice—he tasted good. And guys who were assholes—well, their cum tasted like their personalities.

I canceled plans with Wes; I made excuses to myself; all so I could go to the bar and offer myself to men. I rationalized to myself that I was just making up for lost time, but in my heart I knew I was becoming just another backseat slut.

I began to feel lonely; I wanted more than one-night stands.