Improper Advances Ch. 04

**

The next morning on my way out the door to go to work, Marty came out of his bedroom looking somewhat tired and his hair disheveled.

I quipped, "Oooo, looks like someone got lucky last night!"

He managed a small smile and said, "Yeah, but then I drank too much afterward..."

"I bought a new bottle of aspirin," I said.

"Good...oh, I'm doing laundry today - you need anything washed?" he asked.

"Yeah, my basket is full but I'll do it when I get home," I said.

"Don't worry about it, I'll get it done!" he said.

"Oh, thanks!" I said.

Walking to my car I was acutely aware of the soreness in the backs of my legs. I sheepishly smiled to myself. My calves always get sore whenever I masturbate too many times.

All day long I thought about the night before. Marty's story had fueled my imagination. I now had the perfect fantasy...being blackmailed into gay sex!

The troubling aspect of the fantasy was, I needed to picture someone I knew for it to work. For no particular reason, I chose Mike to be the antagonist in my story.

My best fantasies begin with a grain of truth:

It was the night Mike and Cheryl walked in on me while I was sucking Bruce's cock. I can hear Mike say, "At least he TRIES to swallow cum!"

I imagine Cheryl's response to be "Maybe you should have Johnny blow you a couple times a day - it would sure save me the trouble of doing it!"

A few days after Mike had moved out, he calls and I agree to meet him for lunch even though I am still humiliated by him catching me on my knees.

We have a pleasant time. It was like old times. He never mentioned what he'd seen me doing. He even paid for the meal.

On the way to our cars we made small talk. Then he pointed to his car and said, "Get inside!"

"Huh? Why?" I asked him.

"We need to talk about the other night," he says.

"Look, I'm sorry-" I say but he interrupts me.

"GET IN THE CAR!" he says quite loud.

I am nervous by his sudden change in demeanor. I climb into the front seat.

In a calm but firm voice he says to me: "Here is how it is going to be, fag boy..."

"Mike, please don't call me that," I protest.

"You're right," he says, "you're not only a fag boy but a sissy as well - you're a panty-wearing sissy-fag-boy!"

I can't believe my ears!

"Mike, please-" he cuts me off again.

"Did you know Cheryl used her phone and took a video of you sucking cock the other night?" he asks me.

OH MY HELL...a violent, icy shiver races up and down my spine.

"If you don't want me to post it online for everyone we know to see it, including your parent's, then you better listen carefully to me..."

My heart is pounding. I am gripped with a fear so strong I see stars dancing before my eyes.

"You know, Cheryl actually said something that made a lot of sense," he said.

"W-What w-was t-that?" I ask him trembling with fear.

"Remember when she said I should have you blow me instead of her? She hates doing it anyway, and from the expression on your face on the video you were really 'into it'."

OH MY HELL - is he about to say what I think he's about to say?

"It's very simple - I won't post that video online as long as you keep me happy," he says with a smile.

"W-What does that mean?" I ask.

"Well, my little sissy-fag-boy, it means whenever I call you you're going to drop whatever it is you're doing and hustle your faggot-ass to wherever I tell you and give me a blowjob...oh, and naturally you'll swallow everything I give you!"

"Mike, no, please don''t make me do that!" I plead with him.

"Too late, sissy-fag-boy, in fact, you're going to come over to me right now...you're going to open my jeans, take out my cock and you're going to suck it the best you know how...and judging from Bruce's expression the other night, I imagine you're one helluva cocksucker!"

"Mike, nooooo..." I whine.

He pulls out his cell phone, and brings up the video. He shows it to me and says, "If you don't have my cock in your mouth in twenty-seconds, I am posting this video!"

What choice did I have? If I don't submit to his blackmail my life will be ruined!

I couldn't believe how excited I got from the blackmail fantasy. The second time I made up a variation of it. The third time another one. There is definitely plenty of material I can create with many different twists and turns to the plot.

Now I can fantasize about gay sex without guilt or shame - I'm not gay - I'm being 'forced' to perform these acts!

**

When I got home from work I was greeted with the delicious aroma of a roast in the crockpot.

The radio in the living room was playing rather loud. On my way to turn it down, my nostrils were assaulted by a strong odor of marijuana; on the coffee table was an empty wine bottle, and two glasses which were still half-full.

My ears pricked up. Are those voices coming from Marty's bedroom?

I didn't touch the radio; I walked slowly to the hallway between our bedrooms.

Marty's door was cracked open enough for me to see inside his room - OH MY HELL - Marty was standing naked with his back to me; his hands tightly gripping the waist of a slender naked guy on all-fours on the end of his bed.

I stared at his powerful, manly buttocks straining, quickly moving to-and-fro as he buried his cock in-and-out of the guys ass.

They were grunting and groaning so loud I instinctively knew they were both close to orgasm.

My brain said 'Leave them alone' but my body remained frozen in place.

I couldn't tear my eyes from Marty's spectacular buttocks thrusting ever more rapidly back and forth.

Marty is my size, but I never realized he had such a fantastic physique. He has kept himself in great shape long after leaving the Marines.

His left arm suddenly dropped underneath his lover, and from his movements, I knew he was stroking the guys prick in time with the thrusting of his hips.

The guy getting fucked in the ass suddenly raised his head and bellowed, "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS..." and a split second later Marty cried out as well.

I watched their bodies wildly buck and thrash about and decided it was time I left them alone.

I went into my bedroom and shut the door. I sat on the bed, squeezed my hard-on thru my slacks and listened intently until I could no longer hear their shouts of pleasure.

The urge to masturbate was so strong I opened my slacks, reached into my briefs and took hold of my dick, but suddenly stopped out of fear of being caught.

I took a deep breath and began to change out of my work clothes. I removed my shirt and went to the laundry basket and - oh good - it was empty, Marty did indeed wash my clothes.

Before I pulled on some shorts I could feel the wetness seeping thru my briefs. I was surprised by the amount of pre-cum I leaked while watching Marty. I stripped off the briefs and tossed them in the basket, opened the top drawer of the bureau then stared at the neatly folded undies.

I never folded my socks or undies. I smiled at Marty's thoroughness.

Suddenly my body flinched. My eyes grew wide as saucers. I stared slack-jawed at the pink panties neatly folded on top of the pile.

I snatched up the panties and buried them deep underneath the other undies.

A little late for that, don't you think, John?

I quickly grabbed a pair of briefs, slipped into them and sat on the bed to think up excuses I could tell Marty.

Three raps on my door awoke me from my reverie.

"John, I'm sorry about that..." he said thru the door. "I lost track of the time...c'mon out and have a glass of wine with me."

"Uh, yeah, I'll be right out," I answered.

I settled on a story about how my ex-girlfriend liked to masturbate me with her panties, and she must have forgotten them here one night.

I pulled on shorts and a tee shirt and rather sheepishly joined Marty on the sofa. He handed me a glass of wine and I took a healthy swallow.

"John, I'm sorry...I didn't know he was coming over...we drank some wine - smoked a couple bowls - one thing led to another and, well..."

"No, no...there's nothing to be sorry about," I said. "You live here, you have every right to have friends come over."

"I should have at least closed my door...did you, uh, see what we were doing?" he asked.

I think my red face gave him the answer.

"Again, I'm sorry, but Davy knows how to push all my buttons..."

Without thinking, I blurted out, "I thought his name is Peter?"

Marty's eyes grew wide.

"Oh my God, were you awake the other night when I brought Peter home?" he asked.

John, think before you speak! I scolded myself.

I didn't want to give him the time or a reason to mention the panties, so I playfully said, "Wow, you're a stud, Marty! How many guys are you going out with?"

The sad expression on his face puzzled me.

"Too many..." he quietly said.

We finished our wine in silence. Marty refilled our glasses.

"You know, John, gay men and straight guys have more in common than you might think," he said. "When we're young all we want is some fun and hopefully get laid - no strings attached...when we reach our early and mid-twenties, one-by-one we see our best friends getting into serious relationships until they no longer want to hang-out like the old days...it isn't long before you're going to the bars by yourself."

He was drinking his wine fast and I tried to keep up with him.

"...and before you know what happened, you're pushing thirty and doing the exact same things you did when you were twenty while your friends are married or in a meaningful relationship...let me tell you, John, there is nothing more pathetic than a single, aging queer."

"What do you mean?" I asked him. "You are not old, Marty."

"Heh-heh, what are you? Ten years younger than me? Eleven? John, my best advice to you is, yes, you are young, have fun, shop around, don't settle for just anyone - BUT - should someone you really like and enjoy being with comes along, don't be afraid to show them how you feel...if you open your heart to them they just might open their heart to you."

I didn't tell him that person may have already come and gone in my life.

**

I was so buzzed by the wine even the slightly dry pot roast tasted delicious.

Marty likes to talk and I like listening to his stories. He reminds me of Bruce in some ways. They both have fully accepted their sexuality, as if it was normal, and I guess, well, I kind of envied their openness.

After awhile, though, some of his stories didn't make sense to me. If I'd been sober, I never would have questioned him.

"Marty, I'm a little confused," I said then took another swallow of wine.

"What about?" he asked me.

"Well, in some of your stories you're the 'bottom' and in others you're the 'top'...how can that be?" I asked him.

He flashed me his beautiful smile.

"Oh, good catch!" he said. "I don't know how other gay guys decide what they are, but in my case, I guess you could say I learned by trial and error, hahahahaha..."

"You know, John, when you're very young, like your age, you're usually too afraid to initiate contact with a guy...for one thing, you're scared to death he may not be gay even though he gives off signals that he is...so that summer I told you about, I cruised the park because I knew all those guys were gay...but I was shy, and never made the first move...it was always the other guys coming on to me, and almost all the time they wanted to know if I sucked cock..."

His language didn't embarrass me any more.

"Well, you know, I had made a conscious choice to be there and since I knew I was gay I figured it meant I like to suck cock," he said.

"Okay, I understand that," I said, "but the other night it was, you know, Peter was the one sucking you, and today, well, you were the one who was, uh..."

"Ramming my cock in-and-out of Davy's sweet ass!" he finished my sentence.

This time I did blush.

"Uh, yeah...when did you decide to be a 'top'?" I asked.

He chuckled and replied, "Like anything else in life, as you go along you discover what you like best...I don't mind sucking a nice dick, but it simply feels natural to me to be the dominant one in a relationship...it's like an old fashioned man-woman relationship where the woman was expected to submit to her man...I can't explain it, but I love submissive boys who need a strong man to help them thru the vagaries of gay life...I feel a sense of responsibility for the happiness of my boys."

Memories of the pleasure I received from submitting to Bruce flooded my mind and I had to avert my eyes from Marty.

"Something wrong?" asked Marty.

"No, uh, no..." I mumbled.

I suddenly had a strong urge to change the subject. There was still the matter of the panties to be dealt with. I hate unfinished business. No matter how embarrassing it is, I didn't want to be side-stepping this issue for who-knows-how-long.

"Thanks for doing my laundry today, " I said.

"Oh, sure, you did mine last week. We both cook and clean. We enjoy hanging out and talking. I think we make good roommates, don't you?" he said.

"Uh, yeah, I think we do, too," I agreed.

I got the impression he wasn't going to bring up that subject, but I couldn't leave it unsettled.

"You, uh, probably noticed the panties in my laundry," I said and immediately felt like a fool for stating the obvious.

He smiled and said, "Yeah, there's probably an interesting story about them."

I forced a smile and said, "Yeah, my ex-girlfriend would like to use them when she masturbated me."

He simply said, "Yes, I figured it was something like that" and the subject never came up again.

**

The very next night, I'm not sure why or how it happened, my blackmailed-into-gay-sex fantasy suddenly changed.

It began as usual, Mike threatening that if I didn't suck his cock he'd tell everyone I knew about the night he caught me with Bruce.

Inexplicably, instead of picturing Mike, I suddenly saw Marty's handsome, smiling face when I walked inside the apartment. I returned his smile, but when he held up my pink panties before him, a cold chill raced up-and-down my spine.

"W-What are you doing?" I asked in a quivering voice.

"Well, cutie, I got to thinking," he began, "why should I have to go out at night to get my rocks off when I have you here?"

"What do you mean? You know I'm not queer..." I say to him.

He laughs at me.

"Oh, that doesn't matter to me - a mouth is a mouth!" he says still smiling.

I begin to protest but he stops me.

"Listen to me, cutie, I like you - I like you a lot!" he says. "I've wanted to feel your lips wrapped around my dick ever since I moved in...so here's how it's going to be: whenever I tell you, you're going to get on your knees and suck my cock or I will tell the world you love wearing women's panties!"

"MARTY, NO...please don't do that!" I protest loudly. "No, please don't tell anyone..."

"It's up to you, cutie, your perverted little secret will remain safe with me...all you have to do is take these from me, go into your bedroom and strip then come back out here wearing nothing but your pretty pink panties!"

I hang my head in shame. I realize he's got me between a rock and a hard place. I'd simply die if people knew my secret.

I snatch the panties from him and go into my bedroom. When I come out, he is standing near the sofa wearing nothing but his tight briefs. I swallow hard as I stare at the large bulge tenting out the material.

With a beautiful smile on his face, he simply crooks his finger at me to come to him.

I am trembling like never before. I know there is nothing I can say or do to talk him out of this. I walk to him a defeated man. I see the intense fire of lust burning in his blue eyes.

I gaze into his eyes for mercy but they simply lower then raise...he is indicating for me to drop to my knees and proceed with what he wants from me.

I obey his silent command. I hook my fingers into his briefs and slowly pull them down. I gasp when his hard cock springs into my view. I resign myself to my fate and slide my lips over the velvety cockhead.

The rest of the fantasy becomes blurred as Marty thrusts his cock in-and-out of my madly sucking mouth.

I feverishly stroke my hard prick as his manly aroma overwhelms my senses.

**

For the second consecutive night, I find myself sitting in my dark car, staring intently down the gently sloped hill at the cart path that circles the small pond. My eyes are searching for any signs of, well, I'm not sure what I am hoping or expecting to see.

From the stories and rumors I'd heard about the park for so long, I guess I expect to see hordes of desperate and horny men hooking up with one another for wild and uninhibited gay sex.

Except for the occasional solitary figure I see slowly walking around the pond, the park seems mostly deserted and peaceful. To be honest, I am disappointed.

It had been over a week since the night Marty explained his sexuality to me. He promised he wouldn't bring guys to the apartment anymore even though I said it was fine with me.

"No, it's not right for me to flaunt my lifestyle and expose you to something you're not comfortable with," he'd said.

"No, uh, really, it's okay with me," I insisted.

But he held true to his word, and on the rare nights he went to his favorite bar, he didn't return home until early in the morning.

I never asked him, but I was sure he hooked-up with someone and either went to the other guys place or they did it in the car.

On the nights he stayed home, he and I would drink wine and talk about everything until midnight. He is the most comfortable person to be with I'd ever known. I began to be more open with him.

One night the wine got the best of me and I accidentally let it slip that I'd once had sex with a guy.

"Well, a lot of guys experiment...there's nothing unusual about that...so what did you think? Did you like it?" he said without a trace of judgment or moral superiority. When I mumbled, "Well, uh, you know..." and blushed a deep red he simply changed the subject to ease my embarrassment.

I really like him...alot. I consider him my new best friend, but I refuse to admit to myself that I might have 'feelings' for him.

Head lights shone in the rear-view mirror so I scrunched down in the seat to avoid detection. The car slowed to a crawl then parallel parked in front of me.

When the car was parked and the lights turned off, I remain scrunched down in the seat but am able to see the car door open, and out step what looked like a real old guy.

He appeared to be my dad's age, maybe fifty. He closed the car door, furtively looked around then opened the back door and disappeared inside.

I was disappointed he didn't go down the hill into the park. I wanted to see what happened once he was down there.

Almost immediately, a person emerged from the darkness next to me, went to the car, opened the back door and climbed inside.

It was so fast and dark, all I could see was that he was young, maybe around my age.

My pulse began racing. I figured I was going to see some hot 'man-on-man action' right in front of me.

I could see their silhouettes hugging and then they kiss which surprises me. I knew I couldn't bring myself to kiss a stranger, so I figured this had been their arrangement for awhile.

Their faces were pressed together a long time. I found myself envious of them. It had been so long since Bruce and I embraced and kissed as passionately as these two that I felt a deep yearning in the pit of my belly. I miss the intimate touches of another human being.

Suddenly, the younger guy disappeared from my view. I knew darn well what he was doing and was disappointed I could not see his head bobbing up and down the old man's cock.