tagGay MaleJoanie Ch. 01

Joanie Ch. 01

bybjmichaels©

"You look very nice today, Joanie," Mister B said to me as I climbed into his car.

"Thank you," I replied, not even bothering trying to correct him yet again.

My name is 'John' but since the day we met he has called me 'Joan' or 'Joanie.' He claims I misunderstand him due to his thick, southern accent, but I don't know, it sure sounds like 'Joanie' to me.

He continued: "Those new shorts I bought you really accentuate your cute little butt..."

I no longer blush when he makes these crude, highly personal comments.

"Well, they are really tight," I replied, "and really short."

He started the car but before he changed gear, he brazenly stared at my crotch and added, "The shorts even make that little package of yours look bigger between your legs."

Okay, I did blush that time.

I had moved to Florida from up north over a month ago and seemed to have spent an inordinate amount of time with my landlord, Mister B. I had no friends my own age, unless you count my neighbors, Jessie and Mike. We've gotten together a few times but I get uncomfortable when they begin kissing and feeling each other up.

Don't get me wrong, I'm as open-minded as can be, but please don't do your gay-thing when I'm around.

I know Mister B has been wanting my ass, so to speak, from day one, but he is too much of a gentleman to force himself on me. I think he uses those vulgar comments and lewd stares in hopes of breaking me down, but that's not going to happen.

I play along with him because of the very cheap rent he charges me, and the dinners and gifts he showers me with, and he did after all, find me a job the first week I was here.

I have to admit, I am very flattered by all his attention. I also have to acknowledge the past couple of weeks I've begun looking at him in a new light.

I no longer see him as this fifty-something year old queer, but rather a somewhat handsome man who keeps himself in great shape. I love his full head of white hair that compliments the few hairs on his sculpted chest.

He has an indoor pool in his backyard, that's how I know about his chest. I never enjoyed swimming until now. Mister B has been a kind and patient teacher even though it seems his hands are all over my body far more than necessary.

Today is our weekly golf match. He belongs to an exclusive country club. Everything is paid for otherwise I couldn't afford it. Yes, I do feel like I owe him big-time, but as of yet, he hasn't pressured me into doing anything I don't want to do.

Sure, of course I know he'd love to get into my pants. He more times than not, springs boners when we're together. I know because out of natural curiosity I have seen the manly bulges in his slacks. I don't get upset. Again, I find it all rather flattering.

Truth be told, I am not homophobic. I am amoral - I don't care what any two people do in private - just don't make a public spectacle out of it.

I guess I don't swing that way because of my upbringing. My dad was a bigot AND homophobe.

He constantly reminded me and my older brother, "If I ever find out you play with other guys dicks I'll beat the living shit out of you!" We knew he would do it, too!

While Mister B checked with the starter in the pro shop, I browsed the clothing and equipment. I am a left-handed golfer even though I do most everything else right-handed; I spotted a set of left-handed clubs so I investigated.

When I saw the price tag my eyes bugged-open wide. I would never have that kind of money to waste on golf clubs!

I started when I felt Mister B's hand on my shoulder. He said in a voice only he and I could hear: "Joanie, if you make me a happy man, I will buy these clubs for you!"

I blushed because I knew what I would have to do to make him a happy man.

***

There weren't many golfers on the course. We played at a quick pace, the way we liked it.

After nine-holes I was up three-shots. For a little guy, I can hit the ball a good distance and score well too.

We were standing on number ten tee box and Mister B smiled at me and said, "Care to make this nine more interesting?"

I knew he was referring to a wager.

This was the fourth round we've played together, and he never once beat me on any nine-holes.

"Sure, why not?" I said with confidence.

"If you beat me on this nine, I will buy you the set of clubs you were looking at in the pro shop," he said.

HUH? WHAT? Oh my goodness...

He added with an even larger smile, "If I win, well, you know what I want from you..."

I guess I paused too long because he finally said, "What about it, Joanie? Are you man enough to accept the bet?"

My hands trembled as I mulled over the offer.

What the hell, John, he's never beaten you - he hasn't come close to beating you...what's the worst thing that could happen? You'd have to give him a handjob? So what? You already did that with that guy last year and you didn't go to hell. Good God man, wouldn't you love to own a set of clubs like those?

"Let's do it," I said and offered my hand and we shook on the bet.

I had won the last hole so I had the honors to tee off first. I stood over the ball longer than normal, backed-away, took a deep breath then resumed my stance. I hit the ball hard, but it was going left and then it began to fade even further left.

Uh-oh, I thought, then my heart sank when I saw it sail over the out-of-bounds fence.

"Too bad, Joan, you hit it well," said Mister B. as he set-up to tee off.

I watched him take a couple practice swings and thought, 'What's he doing? He's using a driver instead of his three-wood - he's never hit a driver playing with me!'

To my amazement, he cracked a long and straight shot. I re-teed and hit a beauty down the middle. When we got to my ball, I was a good twenty-yards behind his ball.

What the heck? I thought, then told myself, 'Calm down, John, it's only the first hole!'

I put the next shot twenty-feet from the pin; he put his inside of mine. What's going on here? I wondered. He's not this good...

We both two-putted so he was already two strokes ahead of me. He used his driver again on the next hole and smacked another long and straight drive. I hit one as good as I could and was again twenty-yards behind him.

My stomach began churning as I wondered if he had set me up. Calm down, there's a long way to go.

We both hit the green in regulation but my hands were still slightly trembling and I three-putted the green. He two-putted for another par and I was now down three-strokes.

My imagination was beginning to run wild. I clearly remembered my encounter with that man a year ago.

There is a park in my hometown where at night it's a place for queers to find hook-ups. My curiosity got the better of me one night and I went there. I sat in the car a long time before I mustered up the nerve to walk down the small hill to the walking path.

Anyway, to make a long story short: a man came out of the shadows and said he lived across the street and would I like to go to his place with him. I agreed and soon found myself standing in a studio apartment. The bed starkly stood out in the middle of the room.

I had no idea what the protocol is when two guys who don't know one another hook-up for anonymous sex. I waited for him to tell me to undress or undress me himself. He did neither. There was a very uncomfortable moment of silence.

He finally motioned for me to sit on his sofa and I waited there while he poured two short glasses of wine and brought me one of them. I nervously sipped and intentionally avoided eye contact with him.

A joint appeared out of nowhere and he lit it and handed it to me. I coughed on the first inhale, but managed to keep down the next two before I gave it back to him.

When the joint was gone, I didn't feel any different. I remember thinking 'That's some pretty bad stuff.'

He suddenly took my head and very awkwardly pressed his lips to mine. He looked at me expectantly, like I was the one who should make the next move. I simply sat there in silence waiting for him to do something.

He then brought out a deck of cards and said, "Want to play strip poker?"

Huh? What kind of queer is this guy? Why doesn't he order me to get naked or strip me himself?

Anyway, we played a few hands until we were both down to our undies. His erection was tenting out the crotch of his briefs but I did my best not to look at it directly. The intensity of the moment was beginning to make me feel lightheaded. It was the first time I had ever been in such a clearly sexual situation with another guy.

I caught him dealing from the bottom of the deck but didn't say anything. Why would he have to cheat? We were both going to end up naked anyway, right? He won the hand so I stood up from the sofa to remove my briefs and without looking at him pushed them to the floor exposing myself to him.

He stood and tentatively took me in his arms and held me close to him. He kissed me full on the lips and I didn't pull away.

He said, "Feel how hard you have gotten me!"

I thought: Good, he's finally being assertive!

Slowly, I lowered my hand until it brushed against the front of his briefs. I paused, took a deep breath then curled my fingers around his erection. It was very strange feeling a guys hard cock in my hand, but very exhilarating.

He kissed me again and said, "You're a good kisser."

This time it wasn't forced or hurried. I was actually enjoying the kiss but he abruptly ended it and pushed me towards the bathroom.

He pulled out a long and thin tube from the medicine cabinet and coated it with baby oil.

"Place your hands on the sink and bend over," he said. "Spread your feet wide apart - no, wider!"

Ohhh, yes...where has this forceful man been?

I discovered something about myself that night...something so dark and disturbing I have kept it a secret, afraid other men might be able to pick up on it: and that awful secret is I loved it when he became forceful with me - I enjoyed it when he told me what to do, and I knew enough about the queer-world to know a guy who likes to obey other men is considered a 'submissive' or 'bottom.'

I was aroused and ashamed at the same time. Isn't a 'bottom' a guy who willingly goes to his knees or bends over to sexually satisfy another man? Isn't a 'bottom' more like a girl than a guy? I vowed then and there to take my dirty secret to the grave with me!

I obeyed him and soon felt the slippery tube against my anus. Anyway, after he slid it into me and pushed it all the way inside, that's when I sprung a boner.

Once the stranger had thoroughly lubed my hole he led me to the end of his bed.

"Get on all-fours," he said in a raspy voice causing my prick to twitch.

I did as I was told and found myself on my hands and knees with my butt hanging over the end of the bed. I turned my head to see what he was doing. He was coating his hard cock with the oil then approached me and placed a hand on my hip.

"Spread your legs wider," he said, and again I felt another surge of adrenaline when I obeyed him.

I felt the fat knob of his erection pressing on my hole. He hooked an arm around me and pulled me backwards while he tried to slide his cockhead past my virgin sphincter.

Slowly, he managed to get maybe a quarter-of-an-inch inside me but it was a heckuva lot more painful than I imagined it would be.

"It hurts too much - I can't take it," I cried out.

"I'll go slowly," he said and continued pushing into me.

The pain only got worse. "No, please - I can't do this!" I pleaded with him.

The vulnerable position I was in, he could have easily plowed his dick all the way inside me but he stopped and withdrew followed by a loud string of four-letter curse words.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he said angrily. "You came here willingly - you said you wanted to - what kind of a cock-tease are you?"

I saw him holding his hard-on waving it at me.

"Are you going to leave me like this, you little prick-teaser?" he demanded to know.

I watched him drape a small towel over his erection as he plopped down on the sofa and began masturbating.

I felt bad. I certainly hadn't intended to lead him on. I sat naked beside him and pushed his hand away and grasped his shaft thru the towel and began jerking him off. I figured it was the least I could do.

A few minutes of stroking his manly shaft and another shameful and disturbing thought entered my mind. I wondered why he didn't remove the towel and tell me to take his cock in my mouth? Worse, I began hoping he would order me to suck his cock...but he never did.

I thought, just my luck: I get picked up by the only shy faggot in the park!

I jerked him off until he shot his load into the towel.

Anyway, I was four-down after five holes when Mister B slammed a big slice out-of-bounds and I picked up two shots. On the par three sixteenth, I put a five-iron four-feet from the hole and drained the birdie putt. Mister B bogeyed and the match was even.

On the next tee I noticed there was no longer a huge bulge in his slacks. He'd lost his hard-on when he had lost the hole. I felt strangely disappointed. What the hell is wrong with me?

We both had five's on seventeen and were standing on the 18th tee box even-up. He came up behind me and placed a hand on my ass, giving each cheek a playful pinch.

I felt his hot breath in my ear and heard him whisper, "Joanie, you need to figure out what you want most...a set of new golf clubs...or my hard cock in your mouth?"

IN MY MOUTH? I thought we were playing for a handjob. Now he's telling me I'll have to suck it for him?

He massaged my asscheeks until I sprung a boner.

He chuckled and said, "That's a good boy...we both know what you really want, don't we?"

I flushed a deep red and was at a loss for words. My hands began trembling again. I took a deep breath and smacked my best drive of the day.

'There - that will show him what I really want,' I thought triumphantly.

He hit another good drive past my ball. My second shot was pretty good - it was only about ten yards short of the green. Mister B pulled his shot left but it was long enough and landed thirty-feet from the hole.

Okay, the pressure was now on. I figured he would two-putt for par. That meant I needed to get my chip shot close to the flag. I did. It was only five-feet away and I'm a good putter.

Mister B indeed two-putted for a par and I stood over my par putt with confidence I'd make it and we'd push the match.

Mister B played with my head by standing directly on my line on the other side of the hole. I stared down the line and hesitated. Suddenly, I saw his hand massaging his cock thru his slacks.

Oh my goodness, the bulge in his slacks was quite impressive. For a brief moment I wondered what it looked like.

I fought hard to concentrate on the putt and make a good stroke. I made a perfect pass thru the ball confident it was going into the hole.

The ball made an abrupt stop an inch from the hole. WTF??? My blood began to boil. I saw stars dancing before my eyes. Game over - I lost the bet!

I slammed my putter in the bag and slouched over on the seat not looking at Mister B. His hand suddenly took mine and pressed it against his hard-on. He laughed when I pulled it away as fast as I could.

We usually stop for something to eat and drink so when he drove by the clubhouse I looked at him with a puzzled expression on my face.

He smiled, winked at me, and said, "If I don't shoot a load real quick, I'll blow in my slacks..."

My mind wondered: How could he say something so dirty to me? But my prick stiffened and my balls began to ache.

We loaded the clubs into the trunk of his car and a cart boy drove the cart away.

I turned to go to the passenger door but instead he pulled me to the rear door on the drivers side, opened it, and in an authoritative voice ordered me to "Get inside!"

My prick throbbed in my briefs. I had to gasp for air.

He sat close beside me, took me in his arms and kissed me hard. I tried to back away but he glowered at me and warned, "Never pull away from me again!"

Our lips melded into one. He forced his tongue in my mouth and licked at my own. It was getting incredibly hot inside the car.

He ended the kiss and said, "The man was right - you ARE a good kisser!"

Huh? What man?

Mister B then said, "Feel how hard you have gotten me!"

Huh? That sounded vaguely familiar. Well, a bet is a bet. I missed the putt and now I have to pay the price for it.

I found the bulge in his slacks and curled my fingers around it, paused then squeezed it and slowly moved my hand up and down.

"Open my pants and take out my cock!" he said forcefully.

I groaned into his mouth and obeyed his command. When I freed his hard cock and swollen balls, his manly aroma wafted up into my nostrils and I groaned again. I took his naked cock into my hand and immediately began stroking it.

It was sooo hot and hard and smooth to the touch I couldn't help but moan into his mouth again. My hand moved faster and faster. I wanted him to cum. I wanted to fulfill my part of the wager. Not only that, but I was getting extremely excited with his cock in my hand.

What is wrong with me? I wondered.

His hot breath was in my ear. "We both know what you want...you've been dreaming of this moment for a long time..."

I didn't know what he was talking about. How could I have been dreaming of this for a long time? Until now, I had always refused his sexual advances towards me.

"...we both know you're dying to find out what it feels like in your mouth...you can't wait to lick every inch of it..."

Oh my goodness - I saw the stars dancing before my eyes again. My balls were about to explode in my shorts.

"Joanie, wet your lips and slide them over my cock..."

I was so dizzy I became paralyzed with fear and anxiety. How could I do what he wanted? It's unnatural - I'm not that kind of a guy!

"Joanie, I assure you I am not a SHY faggot..."

OH MY GOD - HE KNOWS ABOUT THE STRANGER IN THE PARK!!

"Joanie, wet your lips and slide them over the glans...do it now - SUCK MY COCK, BOY!!"

In Chapter 2, John learns more than he bargained for from Mister B.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous09/12/18

Really well written ...

You're amazingly in tune with the way an inexperienced bisexual man feels. I remember my hesitation to embrace those feelings. You have a fan! Please continue.

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