Oh, Mr King! Pt. 01

Mr King was a short, effeminate, man in his mid-fifties. He worked in the same department store where I had just landed my first job after high school. If you were to see Mr King sitting in a bar or a diner he would not attract your attention. There was nothing special about him at all, in fact, he was an insignificant, little man, whom most people dismissed as a nobody. Mr King very much kept to himself. He was unmarried, a little overweight and starting to lose his jet-black hair. He had a little thin moustache, wore spectacles and was always impeccably dressed. His bow tie was his trade mark.

My name is Julian and as the new boy on the shop floor, I was to work with him to learn the ropes, so to speak, and while he was not particularly friendly, Mr King was always polite and helpful. In return I knew my place. I was to work under him, as he was my boss and despite his aloofness, I found his affectations and mannerisms, strangely attractive. I was a very impressionable nineteen-year-old. He was an excellent salesperson, who treated his customers with respect and dignity and was popular with the older gents, who frequently shopped in our place of work. I learned a lot from him.

I have to admit that I liked Mr King and found myself adapting his easy way with our customers. Like a lot of young people, I was in denial about my true nature. I liked girls but I also found myself drawn to men, older men in particular. They just seemed so self-confident to me a, a characteristic I sorely lacked. I was curious about sex and wanted to try things, of course, but unlike the majority of boys, I had not grown tall or filled out. I was not athletic nor was I academic. Maturation did not come to me and I was tormented by my lack of physical development.

Bitter experience had taught me that I was invisible to girls my age and therefore, I no longer bothered asking any of them out. The last thing I needed was another rejection from some attractive girl. I had no male friends either. I did not enjoy the company of boys my age. I found them to be rude, crude, rough and mean. I was a loner and that suited me. I spent my evenings on my computer with my cock in my hand looking at all kinds of porn on-line.

The more porn I watched, the more I became obsessed with older men, with really hairy bodies, their beautiful daddy cocks, being sucked by beautiful young women. These were women beyond my reach so, I began to hate them as much as I loved them. I ended up wondering what it would be like, to be in their shoes, getting fed a lovely, big, leaking cock. I started to want to be an object of manly desire and I regarded this growing urge as my dirty little secret. There was nothing wrong with having a variety of lustful thoughts. They just made masturbation better.

Yes, I was masturbating my nights away and had convinced myself that my increasing cock obsession, was just a harmless fantasy. Then, one night, about a week after I had started working under Mr King, the strangest thing happened to me that shook me to my core. I was lying in bed, masturbating. I was fantasizing about a scene from a gay clip I had watched earlier, when Mr King's face crossed my mind and inexplicably, I pictured him as the man whose fat cock was being sucked. I had an incredibly, intense orgasm. My cum went everywhere. I was shocked that such an image should cross my mind.

The next morning, I awoke before the alarm went off. My cock was so hard I had to touch it. I started stroking myself slowly and while pleasuring myself, I could not get the image of Mr King out of my mind so, I just went with the flow of the fantasy. I pictured him naked, a big, hairy, circumcised cock in his hand, smiling at me, leaning over me, waving it at me, enticingly, menacingly, invitingly. "You want this cock, don't you? Tell me you want it, princess!" In my mind I screamed out "Yes, yes." and I came all over myself, even more intensely than I had done the night before. I was appalled at myself and full of self-loathing. How can this be turning me on so much? I just couldn't believe what was happening to me.

Little did I know, that across the city, at that exact same moment, Mr King was lying awake in his bed, his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly, but persistently, to images of me, Julian, walking naked into his bedroom, lying across him on the bed, lowering my head on to his engorged member, flicking at it with my tongue. In his fantasy, Mr King slapped my lips with his cock head as I begged him, pleaded with him, to please, let me suck it. In his fantasy I wantonly and willingly, sucked his lovely, purple knob, into my warm, wet and welcoming mouth. That was when he released several pulses of hot creamy cum. Mr King believed that this would happen.

When I went in to work that day, I could hardly look Mr king in the eye when he spoke to me. I wondered what on earth was wrong with me. However, as the day wore on, I found myself sneaking little glances at him, taking in the minor details of his face, his hands, the shape of his body. To my shame, I even cast several glances at his crotch area, in the hope of detecting the outline of his masculinity, demanding it to be as wonderful as it had been, in my early morning fantasy. I did not realise that he was doing the same thing to me.

That afternoon Mr King witnessed me serving an older gent. When the gentleman left with his purchase I felt a hand gently squeeze my shoulder. It was Mr King and he was smiling at me.

"You are settling in well, young Julian," he said. "I like the way you are handling yourself. You are very polite and respectful to the customers and you are deferential to your bosses and to me. That is a good thing and not a common trait among young men or boys today. I like watching how you handle yourself."

He continued to squeeze my shoulder in a warm and friendly way. I was basking in his lavish praise and enjoying his tender touch. This was the first time he had laid a hand on me and I felt all tingly as if there were pins and needles in my shoulder. Part of me was scared to death and although I am ashamed to admit it, another part of me wanted to kiss his hand.

"Thank you, sir," I replied, returning his gaze.

"Yes," he continued, "You are not like the other boys here, are you? You do not harass the girls and you have manners. I like that, yes, I like that very much indeed. Carry on, then."

He did not release his grip on me, rather, he stared straight into my eyes and ran his hand up and down my upper arm, squeezing it delicately. I felt myself blush. Was he reading my mind. I could feel the blood stirring in my cock. My throat felt dry and I could not speak. I felt everyone must be staring at us. Then he released my arm, looked me up and down, muttered something to himself, that sounded like, "temptation" and turned and walked away.

I did not know where to look. No one had ever singled me out for praise like that. I could still sense his touch on my shoulder and my arm and hoped that the feeling would not go away. Those piercing blue eyes seemed to have looked right through me, to read my mind. Oh God, what if he could read my thoughts? What would he think if he knew what was in my dirty, little mind, this morning as I masturbated about him? I wanted to tell him everything but, how could I? He would only be disgusted at me and reject me out of hand. I felt so confused.

Now, unbeknown to me, Mr King was having his own little crisis. He wanted to tell me about his feelings for me but, wary of rejection, he was afraid to open himself up to me. Mr King did not see himself as an attractive man. Since the day I started, he had taken an immediate shinning to me and was secretly delighted, that he had been entrusted, with the training of what he saw as a delicate and fragile, young man. He had actually thought that I was younger, by several years, than my stated age and had even been up to personnel to check my file.

Yes, Mr Richard King, Dickie to his special friends, found himself harbouring intense, feelings for me, his young protégé. He had not felt this way about anyone for quite some time. These feelings were not just romantic. The more he saw me, the more he felt those old, familiar, lustful desires. He had a longing, deep down inside, to introduce Julian, (what a lovely name he thought,) to the pleasures of the flesh. Mr King was obsessed by me.

If only he could take Julian in his arms, he thought. He longed to kiss his sweet lips, run his fingers through his beautiful, blonde hair, slide his hands gently up and down his soft little body. He wanted to caress and kiss him all over and more than anything else in the world, he yearned to possess him, heart and mind, body and soul. The question was, how could he fulfil these desires?

How would that innocent youth respond to any advance he should make? How would Julian react when he discovered the full extent of his perversions? You see, Dickie, our dapper Mr King, was a pervert, who had lost other possible lovers, when he introduced them to his bizarre predilections. He had rushed them when he should have taken his time and so he lost them. No, this time, he should exercise patience and restraint. This time he would tease the boy along, slowly, carefully, delicately, before he reeled him in, inch by inch. Yes, he would use whatever ploy necessary, to lure Julian into his bed.

That blonde-haired cutie, he thought to himself, that soft body, those beautiful green eyes... I just have to have him. I must have him. I shall have him, and that evening, Mr King pictured me pleasuring him and being pleasured by him, in every possible way. Hand in hand, face to face, cock to cock, cuddling, kissing, embracing, licking, lapping, sucking, until finally, deliciously, becoming one. As his seed issued forth he imagined it flooding Julian's little, round, white bum. He did not want to feel this frustration. He needed a cunning plan.

That night I went home disgusted at myself for how I had spent the day leering at Mr King and enjoying his touch. I vowed that I would not allow myself to be weak like that again and when I finally went on line I only looked at straight porn. I did not imagine myself as the girl in the clips, as was my wont and when I climbed into bed I did not masturbate at all.

Alas, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. My morning wood did not understand good intentions. It called my hand to it. It demanded to be stroked and as I did so, images of Mr King came into my mind, yet again. I swear to you that I tried to ignore him but, I failed. I failed because thoughts of him enhanced the pleasure of my arousal. Why did these images make my pleasure greater? This time, in this bizarre fantasy, he was straddling me. His fat cock was in his hand. I was trapped under him. I could smell his muskiness. Up close, his cock seemed huge, angry, powerful. He was stroking it slowly, under my nose. I watched his pee hole expand and contract. Oh God, it was winking at me and I yearned for it. I wanted this.

He moved his hands to my shoulders. His fingertips tenderly running up and down my shoulders and upper arms. Our eyes locked. I saw raw, naked, desire in his eyes. He sneered at me. "Open your pussy mouth," he ordered. I obeyed. His thick cock grew bigger and began to pulse. His creamy cum squirted into my mouth, up my nose, into my eyes. Pulse after pulse erupted from his slit until my face was white with his seed. When he said "Suck me clean, little whore." I shot my load all over my belly. I lay there, exhausted and overwhelmed.

Meanwhile, across town, Mr King was not masturbating. He was lying awake, thinking, planning, scheming and smiling inwardly. He had decided what he was going to do. This plan was perfect, flawless. Time for a shower and breakfast he said to himself.

Ch. 2

It was raining heavily as I stood at the staff exit at the end of the working day.

"Let me give you a ride home, Julian, save you getting soaked to the skin," I heard a voice say. It was Mr King.

I felt strangely anxious as we walked quickly to his car. Once inside the car Mr King was so friendly and chatty. He asked me where I lived and I gave him directions. He said he knew that area well. He kept smiling at me. I soon felt less anxious and answered his questions about work, freely. After complaining about the heavy rain and the equally heavy traffic, his questions, became more personal. Occasionally he shortened my name or else he just mispronounced it.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Julian? He asked.

"No sir," I replied. I did not like this type of questioning. I was embarrassed and he noticed.

"Neither do I," he said and chuckled. "More trouble than they are worth."

"Any hobbies, Julie? he asked.

"It's Julian, not Julie," I retorted. "Bullies at school made fun of my name, and I hated it. I hate my stupid name."

"Sorry Julian, I am so sorry. I swear to you the name Julie, just slipped out. I would never make fun of your name, in fact I really like it. Julian, Julian, Julian," he said imitating Cary Grant's voice and touching his hand lightly, on my thigh. "I suppose you spend your time playing games on the computer or something..." He left that statement hanging in the air. I had to respond.

"Yes," I replied. I wasn't going to tell him that I spent my time looking at porn. My incessant masturbating could hardly be counted as a hobby.

"Would you be interested in photography, Julian? That's one of my pastimes. I love taking photographs. I have a little studio at home and my own darkroom. I call it my dungeon. You can make a bit of extra cash from it, too."

He pulled up outside the apartment block where I lived and switched the engine off.

"Have you ever considered being a model?" he asked.

"Me?" I gasped in astonishment. I don't have the build. Who would want to look at me as a model?"

"You are wrong there, Julian. I think the camera will love you. You have great features, blonde hair and beautiful green eyes. As for your physique, you would be surprised how many people would love to be as slim as you. Your pale skin is a bonus too. In fact, if you don't mind me saying so, you are quite a little cutie. You should give it a try. Look put your hair behind your ear and hold your hand there. Keep looking forward."

"Like this?" I asked him, placing my hand to my hair and feeling rather foolish.

"No. Allow me." He moved my hand from my face, ran his hand through my hair, several times, until he was satisfied. He did not move his hand from my face. His touch thrilled me and I had to stifle a moan. I turned my head around to face him.

Looking me straight in the eyes he said..."Perfect. My camera could do amazing things with this face. Why don't you give it a try? If you don't like it, you can stop. Think about it, Julian, there is money in this for me... I mean for us. Have a good look at yourself in the mirror this evening and try out some poses, if you can draw yourself away from your computer, that is."

His hand moved from my face and dropped to my thigh. He was patting it gently.

"I have to go," I said. "My mum is expecting me."

"Promise me you will think about it." He repeated.

"I will". I said, closing the car door.

After dinner I went to my room, as usual, where I switched on my computer and opened a favourite porn site. Time flew by and feeling really tired, I stripped for bed. I walked to the mirror and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Me, a model? I don't think so. If I don't like the way I look, how would anyone else? Mr King must be crazy to want me to model for him. He did say the camera would love me. He said my eyes were beautiful. Is it possible he likes me, like that? Is he gay? Fuck! Am I gay? I need to be careful here.

I tried to sleep but couldn't. I was picturing what it would be like, to pose for photographs. What would I be wearing? What if he wants to photograph me in speedos, or nude? My cock stirred. I had to touch it, to appease it's demands. I did not want the thoughts that came into my mind but, was powerless to resist the sexual images that flooded in, as I stroked myself again.

I was in Mr King's studio, stark naked, reclining on a couch, posing lewdly. One hand was on my hip and I was pouting at him. "I like seeing you naked," he said. "Can you get hard for me. Go on! Touch your lovely cock and get it hard for me." I did as he told me. He came towards me and dropped the robe he was wearing to the floor. His fat cock was protruding obscenely, below a mass of black, pubic hair. As he approached me, it wobbled from left to right. It was beautiful. He sat naked on the edge of the couch. He ran one hand through my hair and with the other, tickled my balls. I moaned loudly.

"Touch my cock Julie." I gave his cock a light touch, then took a hold of it. "Sit up and stroke me, Julie and I will stroke you, too." I sat up and we stroked each other, slowly, teasingly, delightfully. He pulled my face to his. He stared into my eyes. "Oh Julie!" he gasped and our lips grazed each other's. I felt his tongue on my bottom lip. I parted my lips to invite his tongue in to my mouth. We kissed passionately. He cupped my balls and tickled them. I felt his cock pulse and spurt and so too did mine. I fell asleep in my own sticky mess, full of guilt, angst and confusion.

Meanwhile, unbeknown to me, on the other side of town, Mr King, Dickie, to his special friends, was lying in his bed, remembering the softness of the skin on my face and thinking how good it would feel, to rub his fat cock against it, to shoot his creamy load into my hair. "Patience, Dickie. Patience. Feed his ego. Soon he will be lying here beside you. You shall have him serve you. You shall have him doing your bidding, worshipping you, wanting you and you, my fine, fat cock, will have your pleasure in his hands, in his mouth and up that lovely bum of his. I shall have the photographs and he will have no choice but to do my bidding." Oh Julie, he thought, you have no idea what lovely plans I have for you!"

Before falling into a restful sleep Mr King played with himself for a little while. He began to reminisce about the older man, who had introduced him, to the pleasures of gay sex, when he was the same age, as Julian is now. He remembered how easily he fell prey, to the lovely gent, whom he met in the public toilets, down town. He had been such a curious teen, who longed to see, what it would be like, to be with a man. This gentleman, his name was James, was already standing at the urinal, when Mr King entered. The place was empty but for him. Mr King chose to stand next to him in order to see his cock. James took a step back, his swollen cock in his hand. It was the most exciting moment of Mr King's young life and he could remember every word, every action, every detail.

"Take a good look, then sonny. You like to look, I can tell. See how big it gets. It is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," Mr King had gasped.

"Let me see yours, then." James had said. "You do want to show me your lovely cock, don't you?

Mr King complied. He played with his cock to please James. His eyes were fixed on James' engorged member. He was entranced at its beauty.

"My place, then? James had said and Mr King could only nod. "Follow me, now, and we shall have lots of naked fun. I am James, by the way, and you are?

"Richard, but, my friends call me Dickie."

"Dickie, it is. Tonight, you shall be mine, little Dickie. Let's go."

Mr King walked to James' place unable to control his throbbing erection. He couldn't wait to get acquainted with his new friend.

Jim took Dickie straight to his bedroom and told him to strip. Dickie complied. He could not wait to get rid of his clothes. James was naked in a jiffy.

"Eager little beaver, aren't you Dickie. Look at you. Hard as a rock. You just can't wait, can you? Come to me now."