The Toyboy Experiment

He took my hand and led me up the beach to the side of the house, and he opened the door and let us in.

Ten minutes later, we were on the sofa, our drinks untouched on the coffee table, and John was lying back while I sat on his lap, kissing him. His hands were unbuttoning my shirt and he took it off. I had already kicked off my sandals. I was breathless, urgent, unbuttoning his short too. He reached down and opened my shorts and I got off him and stood up and dropped them. Beneath them, I was wearing white briefs.

He guided me onto my back on the sofa and then he looked down at me. I was young, eager, scared, curious, and very horny. I looked up at him, not quite knowing exactly what was coming, but feeling like I was ready for almost anything.

"I want to show you something," he said. He reached over to a side table and took an envelope. He took from it a piece of paper and handed it to me. I looked at it.

"What's this?" I said, and immediately felt foolish because only a few seconds" scrutiny made it obvious what it was. It had something about tests and results and there was a column on the right hand side, opposite a list of alarming diseases, and they all were marked with the word "NEGATIVE". The date was the previous week and the address was a local health centre.

"It"s my latest medical test," he said. "I just wanted you to see it. I don't want you to feel that you've got anything to worry about."

"I don't carry mine around with me," I said, "sorry."

"You're normally heterosexual?" he said.

"Until now, only."

"Ever shared a needle?"

"Never injected drugs."

"Ever had a blood transfusion?"

"No."

"Good enough for me," he smiled. "There's something else you should know."

"What's that," I breathed. He reached down and took the hem of my briefs in his fingers. I was a thin piece of fabric away from losing my modesty.

"Not all gay men like penetrative sex," he said, staring down at me.

"I know," I said. "I read about it."

"Some don't like it at all. They think it demeaning. There are lots and lots of ways that two men can take pleasure in each other's body."

"I know," I breathed. "I've read about some of them."

He started to peel my briefs down, down my belly, over my hips, ever closer to my genitals . . .

"However," he said, "it so happens that I do like penetrative sex. Very much."

"Ohh," I gasped, realising exactly what he wanted to do, and feeling my stomach fluttering.

"And I prefer," he said, smiling wickedly as he slowly uncovered my swollen cock and balls and the fabric peeled down over my bare bum, "to be the active partner. You know what that means, Alex?"

"Yes," I gasped.

"Tell me," he said, as my cock sprang free, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

"It means that you want to fuck me," I said.

"It means that I'm going to fuck you," John said. "Whether you want me to or not."

"Ohhh god," I moaned, trembling as I stared up at him, this older, vastly more experienced man who had got me precisely where he wanted me, and who was about to do something to me that nobody had ever done.

"Yes," he said, and he whipped my briefs off me, stripping me naked, and then produced a tube of lubrication and leaned down to kiss me while his other hand began to massage lube between the cheeks of my bum.

I kissed him back, passionate, opening myself like I'd never done to any previous partner, letting him use me, feeling the forbidden and dark pleasure of submission. I found myself making repeated, soft, high whimpers as he pushed the lube up between my naked buttocks.

"I'm going to loosen you," he murmured in my ear, and pressed with his finger on my anus. I squirmed and went "Aaahhh!" as he pushed his fingertip into me. "Why are you doing that?!"

"Because if I don't, it will really hurt when I go in for real," he gasped, kissing my face as I bucked and squirmed beneath him. I felt him pushing into me, his finger violating me in a way that nobody had ever done, and the feeling that I normally had during sex with a girl, of just wanting to have that lovely tight wetness (or even tighter slipperiness) enclosing my cock, the feeling of wanting to master her and occupy her, was gone; instead there was a mad hunger to be occupied, to be filled, to be mastered. It was delicious and poignant and there was something else there, too, as John prepared me to be the passive partner -- a kind of sharp pang of humiliation, of losing my usual male pride, of becoming a sissy; of letting John make me into his bitch. I felt my anus getting a little looser and I pushed my hips down on his hand, and I was glad that I'd given myself an enema on myself earlier in the evening, before my shower, using the kit that I"d bought in the pharmacy.

"God, Alex," he muttered, "I've got to have you, the thing about you that's provocative . . ."

"Y-yes?" I whimpered.

"It's your bum," he said. "Ever since I first saw you on the beach I've fantasised what I'm about to do to you. Your bum is the sexiest bum I have ever seen."

"Oooh!" I moaned, and then to my shock and increasing nervousness he pulled his hand out of me, got off the sofa and quickly peeled his clothes off—all this while, he'd been fully dressed. Then, as I lay spread out and naked beneath him, completely exposed and vulnerable, he rolled me onto my belly and I went "OoooOOHHH!" as I felt him mounting my hips, and the thick bulb of his cock sliding easily between my slippery buttocks, and there were only a few seconds left in which I could say that I still had my anal virginity, and I opened my eyes wide in shock as he pushed, and it hurt, and I shut my eyes and went "UuuuuNNHH! Ohh JoooHHNN! Oh FUCK!" as he went in . . .

And then my breath shot out of me and I went "AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaannnhhhh!" as I felt the head of his cock slip into my anus and the muscle closed around him, and then there was just the thick invading force of the warm pole of muscle thrusting up into me, and I lolled, stunned with the sweet, satisfying force of it, as John began to bugger me.

I sprawled face down on the sofa, an abject male slut, moaning as he took me, my body easing back and forth with his rhythm, pushing my hips back and down on his cock as he pushed in and moving them forwards as he pulled out, the friction of the sofa on my cock and the fullness of his penis in my arse making me rock hard. It was the most animal sex I had ever had. I had never felt so purely flesh. I gave in completely to his desire to master me, to make me his bitch. My blood surged through me and my cock ached beneath me.

He reached under me and pulled on my cock, and reached up and caressed my face. I shut my eyes and deliriously sucked on his fingers as John butt-fucked me, my lithe, sunburned young naked body squirming on the sofa underneath him, moans and whimpers being pumped from my mouth as I gave in to the experience.

It was violent, too; the most violent sex I had ever experienced. To feel his weight pressing me down, his body actually invading mine, was to feel that I'd been overpowered by a stronger, more dominant animal. I heard rhythmic, guttural moans and realised that I was making them myself. I sounded like an animal being brutalised, or a man being methodically and comprehensively beaten up.

His arms were around me, his legs tangled in mine, his strong body pushing and flexing steadily and rhythmically and mine passive, prone, giving with each pump and obediently opening up to let him into me, as far as he could go.

I had a brief moment of insight; I had come on this holiday to have some uncomplicated sex with strange women, and here I was after a week, face down and stark naked on some stranger's sofa while an older man fucked me up my arse and reduced me to his whimpering toyboy. So much for my heterosexual pride.

Then his cock touched something inside me and a huge orgasm exploded through me with such force that I wept shocked tears and cried "AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH!", a howl of delirious abandon, and I felt my cock spurting semen in his tight fist, as he came, gasping, deep inside my rectum.

And then it was over, and it was me lying beneath him and hauling in deep breaths and weeping a little, while he sank on top of me, holding me tight, nuzzling me gently, and kissing the back of my neck softly.

I may have dozed off for a moment because I opened my eyes to find my face wet with tears and the sofa beneath me sticky with my own cum. He was still on top of me, his softened cock still inside me, and he lifted his head and said quietly "Are you okay, Alex?"

"That was . . . that was the most amazing sex I've ever had," I whimpered. "Oh my god."

"I'm so glad," he said, and he hugged me. I felt him pulling out of me and gave a little whimper of protest as he did so, but then he got off me and sat up, looking down at me still lying prone and naked on the sofa.

"I had a feeling you'd like it like that," he said. "Hard rather than soft."

"I can't believe I let you do that," I sighed, "but . . . god, it was amazing."

"I think we'd better get you to bed," he said.

"I'm sorry about your sofa," I said, rolling on to one side and blushing with shame as I saw the mess I'd made of the throw.

"It's okay," he grinned. "I'll put it in the wash. Come on, young man. You need bed."

He stood up and held out his hand. I sat up gingerly and got to my feet. He smiled at me.

Impulsively I put my arms around his neck and kissed him, and he hugged me. Then I let go and rested my head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling him fondly.

"If you liked it that much," he said, "perhaps...you'd like to do it again?"

"God, yeah," I said, grinning up at him. "But I don't think I could do it again right now."

"I don't mean that," he said. "I mean, perhaps you'd like to stay for a couple of days? I could, um...show you some of the other ways to do it."

"I"d love that," I said simply.

"Then I'll be very happy to have you as my guest," he said. "Come on, I'll show you the facilities."

We left our clothes on the living room floor and he showed me around the house. I couldn't help grinning at the strangeness of it; two naked men, one twice the age of the other, walking around a house as if the one were showing it to the other one as part of a real estate deal. Finally, he directed me to the bathroom for a shower and went to the kitchen to get us water.

The house was air-conditioned and beautifully cool. I had a welcome shower in which I washed off the secretions on my body, then I dried myself and slipped along the corridor to the bedroom.

He wasn't there. I slipped under the sheet of the kingsize bed and lay back, reflecting on the unexpected turn in my luck; that morning I had been a lonely straight guy trying and failing to score with women, and this evening I was a young man apparently entering on a fling with an older man. It went against most of the things I'd thought about myself.

And yet, I liked him, I found him charming and I couldn't deny that he had just almost literally fucked my brains out. If he found me attractive, that was enough for now.

He entered the room, carrying a tray with a jug of iced water and two glasses. He poured one for me. He was wearing a towelling bathrobe, which he took off, revealing once more his lean, tanned body; he had no tan lines, suggesting that he knew a place to sunbathe nude. We drank, looking at each other, and then he turned the light out and we lay down. I curled into him and he held me.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"For what?" he said.

"Thank you for having me," I said with a grin, remembering the old phrase I was taught to say when saying goodbye to someone I'd visited. He obviously knew it too, for he laughed quietly.

"I've always liked the old Greek tradition," he said, "in which an older man would take a younger man for his lover."

"I think they were both a little younger than we are," I said. "You should be in your forties and I should be about 16."

"You know the classics?"

"I did them in college."

"Clever as well as cute," he said and his arm around me squeezed slightly.

"You can still be the older one," I said. "You could teach me a lot."

"Oh, I intend to," he said. "The teaching experience is an essentially erotic one."

"Especially if it involves a lot of sex," I said.

"Don't be impertinent," he said. "Or you'll be punished."

"Ooh, really?" I said, grinning in the dark. He was silent for a moment.

"You like punishment?" he said quietly.

"I think we've established that I like . . . something like that. You knew exactly what I needed and you gave it to me."

"Well . . . " he said, "if you're really interested in that kind of thing, perhaps we could come to . . . some kind of arrangement."

"You mean . . . "

"I mean," he said softly, "if you really want, you could be my slave. I have some experience in that line of thing."

I thought about this.

"Maybe we could just try me staying here for a while," I said. "I'm new to this."

"Of course," he said. "Get some sleep."

At some point, I drifted off and I don't remember my dreams.

TUESDAY

I woke up alone and naked in the bed, and for a moment I didn't remember where I was.

Then it came back. I had been invited on a date by a guy older than my father. I had accepted. We had had a meal, gone for a walk, and kissed. Then he had taken me to his house and stripped me naked and fucked me until I barely knew my own name.

I blushed crimson with the memory of it, and John chose that moment to enter the room with a tray carrying orange juice, coffee and toast. He was wearing his bathrobe.

"Hello," he said with perfect ease, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, to walk in on a naked younger man in your bed with breakfast for two. He pulled up the fly screen and opened the shutters, and sunlight streamed into the room.

"Hi," I said.

"Sleep well?"

"Very well, thanks," I said. He put the tray on a trestle across the bed and got onto the bed, then pulled it up. I sat up, careful to keep myself covered below the waist.

"I hope you like coffee," he said, "I haven't got any tea."

"Great," I said. I let him pour me some. I felt unaccountably shy. He sipped his coffee and turned to me and his expression was frank and slightly amused.

"Alex," he said, "I had a wonderful time last night and I think you did too. But I understand if you're having second thoughts. It's your first time with a guy. If you just want to go, that's okay. I won't be offended."

"Thank you," I said softly, surprised at how well he knew what I was thinking.

"But," he said delicately, "if you do want to go, maybe you should. There's nothing worse than the awkward breakfast the next day."

I sat in the bed, aware that there was only a sheet between me and him.

I thought about what he had done to me the night before, and how it had felt, and how there really wasn't anything he could reduce me to that he hadn't already. I had let him strip me, roll me over and fuck me senseless. I had wept and cum in front of him -- he'd made me do both.

It was warm under the sheet. I kicked it down my legs so that I was sitting naked on the bed next to him, exposed. I smiled at him.

"I'd like to stay," I said. He beamed.

"Good," he said.

We ate breakfast and then had a long lie-in, with him next to me in his bathrobe and me naked beside him, listening as he told me more stories. It was another very hot day.

We lay in the heat, and he said "Tell me your sexual fantasies."

"What kind?"

"The stranger the better," he said.

I thought for a while. He was lying behind me, dressed in his bathrobe, spooning me; his hand was on my naked hip.

"I used to have this fantasy," I said. "We had this book about wildlife and it had lots of pictures of animals in and some of them were extinct. One of them was a kind of prehistoric lobster or prawn thing, anyway it was a crustacean, and it was about twelve feet long, I think. Anyway it was huge. And I had this fantasy, I remember," I said, laughing, "that I wrote it down . . . I had this fantasy that I was walking on the beach with this girl I knew who I fancied, and this lobster thing suddenly crawled out of the sea . . ."

"And it grabbed your girlfriend and ravished her?" he said drily.

"No," I said. "It grabbed me and stripped my clothes off and ravished me."

"Goodness," he said. "Unexpected. Very kinky. Why was that arousing?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "Something to do with idea of being taken by an unstoppable force, something impersonal, that didn't care what I wanted."

His hand reached around me and touched my cock.

"You find that arousing?" he said.

"Yes," I said. And I gave a little gasp, as he took my cock in his hand and began to slowly but rhythmically pull on it.

"So that your girfriend would see you being held down and raped by this huge insect?"

"Y-yes," I gasped as I began to get hard.

"She'd see you being forcibly aroused by this mindless creature, holding your naked body down and violating you. And you'd be aroused by it even while you were terrified and couldn't do anything about it."

"Yes," I moaned, squirming gently.

"How would it end?" he said. He was opening his bathrobe, and I could feel his naked body behind mine, his cock lodged between my buttocks, his chest against my back.

"I . . . I didn't really think about the ending," I said breathlessly.

"I'm sure you did," he said. "I'm sure there was at least one version with a rather nasty ending."

"Yes," I said, my throat tightening.

"I'm sure that you had one version in which the creature . . . did something else to you."

His cock was between the tops of my thighs, lodged there, and his other hand came around my head and closed over my eyes. I gasped "Aaaahhh! Yes!"

"Tell me what it did," he said, his hand pumping on my erect cock.

"It's embarrassing," I gasped.

"It's truthful," he said.

"Ohhh . . . " I gasped, as he pumped me, his fist expertly pulling on me, his cock lodged so close to my most intimate place -- he could even arouse me this much without having full sex with me -- and his hand over my eyes forced me back into the humiliating memory of my fantasy. "Oooh god . . . it . . . "

"Yes?" he said quietly but forcefully.

"It . . . first it raped me . . . " I breathed, feeling my orgasm build.

"Yes?" he said.

"Then it . . . oooh god . . . it ate me," I moaned, and I couldn't hold on any longer and I felt myself starting to cum.

He quickly got out from behind me and directed my cock so that my cum spurted in an arc and landed on my chest, and then with a couple of quick strokes he had made himself cum too -- right into my eyes. I blinked and gasped as his semen splashed over my face and I moaned with pleasure at how he had broken me once again, reduced me to just meat.

I lay there, cum dripping off my eyes, breathing heavily, remembering the dark pleasure of imagining the insect's total use of me, astonished that he'd got me to tell him about it.

"While you're with me," he said, "I am responsible for your pleasure. You aren't. The only thing you're responsible for is my pleasure, and you look after that by letting me do anything I want to you."

I nodded dumbly, my eyes shut. Then I felt him wiping my eyes with some kind of scented wipe, and I blinked and looked up at him.

"Anything you want?" I said softly.

"Short of harm, of course," he said.

"Okay," I said, nodding.

"How about a shower?" he said with a wry smile, and I got off the bed and we headed for the bathroom.

We showered together. I accepted my position as the submissive partner by washing him first. When he was clean, he looked me up and down and said with a wryly cocked eyebrow, "May I suggest something?"

"What?" I said.

"I think you'd get a lot more pleasure if you shaved yourself."