What Choice Did I Have?

"He WANTS to be blackmailed into sex with men?" asked Tommy.

"Deep inside, I think he does..." she answered. "It takes all the pressure off of him if he can convince himself he HAS to do it---that he doesn't have a choice...in his mind, if he is being forced into sex with men, then it is perfectly acceptable."

"You know, Karen, sometimes you put your doctorate in Psychology to good use ...I have wondered why a guy like Johnny---intelligent, funny, personable and good-looking would move so far away from his family and friends at the tender age of twenty-one...from what you're saying his 'secret' is so embarrassing and shameful to him, he HAD to leave home?" said Tommy.

"...and by moving here, he doesn't have to worry about family and friends discovering his sinful obsession!" answered Karen. "...yes, I think he made a conscious decision to move here to meet a dominant man who would introduce him to the world he suspects he belongs, but would NEVER have the courage to explore back home."

After a moment of silence, Tommy asked, "Why play games with him? Why shouldn't I simply tell him I'm interested in him and ask him out?"

"His immediate response would be reflexive---he would be shocked and humiliated if he thought you suspected he was homosexual...you would drive him deeper into denial...no, he has to believe he has no other choice than to have sex with you...like it did with Timmy, it may take weeks before he willingly accepts his sexuality," explained Karen.

Then she added: "I know boy's like Timmy and Johnny can be frustrating, but isn't half the fun in the conquest itself?"

Tommy smiled and said, "Yes, there is a great deal of satisfaction watching a boy go from complete denial into a cock-craving slut---I think Johnny may take to cock even better than Timmy!"

"Heh-heh-heh..." chuckled Karen. "I took the liberty and fingered Johnny's 'pussy'---nice and tight---definite virgin...I can guess his mouth is virgin, too...he's probably given a handjob or two to guys, but at this stage of his life he would never submit to being assfucked or sucking cock with being blackmailed---that would be TOO GAY for his fragile ego...but I can guarantee you, he fantasizes about those things when he masturbates!"

Then she added: "Tommy, you have a major responsibility here---Johnny's future is truly up to you...you can make or break him...it all depends what sort of relationship you want with him...do you like him enough to consider him a long-term boyfriend, maybe even morphing into a lifetime commitment? Or, do you want to turn him out in a humiliating fashion, shatter his confidence and self-image---make him a cum-slut—have your fun with him---then give him away to the next man in line?....it's all up to you, Tommy!"

Chapter 1 -- The Grass is Always Greener....

The Fletcher Park Garden Apartment complex in Tampa is near both the university and Busch Gardens, not that either of those places matter in my life, but I do like the location.

I had done extensive internet research before moving here...apartments, employment, shopping, restaurants and bars...and this area is convenient for everything, especially bars...quite a few are within walking distance from the apartment complex, which is important---I can't afford yet another DUI (don't let my honesty surprise you---that's just the way I am).

My name is John, and I'm twenty-one-years old. I moved here from Minnesota to get away from cold and snow, and---just to see if I could do it---sometimes I have relied on family and friends to such an extent, I want to find out if I'm man enough to make it on my own.

I went to college after high school, but found I was more interested in my independence than education. I quit school, found a job, and moved into an apartment with a high school buddy, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Now though, I have very different challenges. The main one being money. Unskilled jobs in Florida don't pay nearly what they do back home, and rent doesn't seem any cheaper, either. I pay more than half my monthly income for rent, so I have to be very careful with what's left-over.

Luckily, my mother not only taught me how to cook, but how to shop for bargains, as well (my Dad was out of town on business quite a bit). I don't mind eating most of my meals at home, and it gives me more money when I go out and shoot pool at the bars.

The apartment complex has a rec room with two pool tables, and when the money gets tight, I go there to play...and drink, hahaha....

I work at a nearby big-box liquor store in the warehouse. Before 9 a.m. we stock the shelves, after that it's unloading trucks, cleaning up, and re-stocking coolers and shelves as needed.

I'm fortunate I have a job where I can move around, and not deal directly with the public...some mornings, well, I'm not exactly feeling my very best, if you know what I mean...yes, I know what you're thinking...maybe I shouldn't overdue it at night, but hey, I'm young and I love to 'party'...hahaha....

The great thing about starting work at 5 a.m. is I'm home by 2:00....it gives me plenty of time to sit by the swimming pool and watch my quirky neighbors. Most everyone is under thirty, but there are a few exceptions.

Take Karen, for example...so I'm laying back on a chaise lounge my second day there, and I watch this beautiful woman come out of the building and into the pool area. She's wearing a rather skimpy bikini and---OH MY GOD---what a body! Great boobs---not overly huge, but shapely, and she's showing plenty of cleavage.

Anyway, I can't take my eyes off her boobs, and the way her hips swayed in the tiny bikini bottom...and before I knew it, she was standing directly in front of me, staring at me thru her dark sunglasses.

She smiled and said, "Hey, cutie, anyone sitting next to you?"

I felt myself blush, but the worst part was I couldn't come up with words---I just mumbled, "Uh, well, uh, no..."

My goodness, John---what a dork! I said to myself as I watched her sit down beside me.

Well, to make a long story short, she introduced herself, we chatted (mostly her), and little-by-little I became comfortable talking with a gorgeous woman who was probably ten-years older than me and way out of my league. She had a daily routine, weather permitting, and I made sure to save the chair next to mine for Karen.

Behind our large, framed sunglasses, we watched everyone come and go from the pool, and the adjacent workout room. Karen was never shy about commenting on our neighbors physical appearances; and, since she had lived at the complex a long time, she knew personal and intimate details of their lives, as well.

Let me say, from some of the scathing comments she made, I'm glad I was her friend---I certainly wouldn't want her as an enemy.

I am always quite shy, and reticent about speaking when I first meet people. If I'm not 100% comfortable with the person I'm with, I am afraid they'll find me stupid, and my opinions wrong. To me, there is nothing worse than making what I think is an astute, or funny comment, only to be greeted with an icy silence.

I learned this from my father; he would constantly remind me of his favorite Abraham Lincoln quote: "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt." And that is pretty much how I act around strangers.

The other piece of wisdom he planted firmly in my head was, if you want to turn a stranger into a friend, never talk about yourself; instead, ask questions and have the other person talk about themselves. "After all..." he would say, "EVERYONE loves talking about themselves!"

Over the years I have found that not everyone enjoys talking about themselves---some think I'm getting nosy and too personal---but there ARE plenty of people with inflated opinions of themselves who will go on-and-on....

The one thing I've discovered that truly bothers me is after I'm finished asking questions, and have drawn the person out, they've told me way more about themselves than I wanted to know---99.9% of them never ask me a single question about myself; they seem to have zero interest in knowing anything at all about me. It's a wonder I have any confidence and self-esteem, at all.

Anyway, I'm straying off-course here...Karen is one of the few people who ever expressed interest in me, and my life. As soon as she answers a question from me, she fires back with a question of her own. I like it---she keeps my mind alert, and let's face it---I like talking about myself as much as the next person.

We had known each other only a few days when she added a new topic to our talks---sex. She humorously made known her frustrations with "lack of properly functioning dicks" comments.

One afternoon, when all the poolside chairs were occupied by almost entirely guys, she made a grand, sweeping gesture with her hand and said, "This is a crying shame!"

I took the bait and asked her, "What's wrong?"

She said, "All these beautiful men here, and NOT ONE properly functioning dick---I'd have better luck offering my pussy to a roomful of Amish women than to these guys!"

She made a serious face, stared into my eyes and said, "Oh---I'm sorry if I offended you, Sweetie!" then broke out with laughter.

My face turned fifty shades of red. I was confused; not sure if she was serious. "No-no, that's fine," I said, trying to smile along with her. "Lots of people have wondered if I'm gay."

She winked one eye at me and said, "And what do you tell them?"

My face turned an even brighter red; my eyes filled with moisture.

"N-No, I'm NOT gay!" I protested, but as soon as I heard the words come out of my mouth, I felt compelled to add, with a forced smile, "...but if I were, this would certainly be the place to live, right?"

Karen laughed and nodded her head then changed the subject.

***

Thru Karen, I met many of my neighbors and residents of the apartments. It soon became apparent to me I had moved into a gay and lesbian apartment complex.

She'd lived there almost ten-years, and seemed to know everyone...even the musclemen who worked out in the weight room most days.

There were four of them who hung out together. They laughed and joked around, and spotted each other while lifting.

Now I don't think it's gay to say I can appreciate beauty, not only in women, but men, as well. Maybe it's envy I feel when I see a well-developed male, but in all honesty, I thought three of the four musclemen looked more grotesque, than manly. Their chests and biceps were appallingly huge, and over-developed. I couldn't understand why they'd want to look that way.

The fourth guy, Tommy, would stop by every day and chat with Karen. That's how I met him. I considered his chest and muscles almost perfect, and there wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere to be seen on him. Also, he was, in Karen's own words, "Drop dead gorgeous!"

One day, after he had stopped by to say 'hi' to me and chat with Karen, I watched him walk back into the apartment complex, I turned to Karen and asked, "Have you two ever hooked-up?"

She lifted the sunglasses off her nose, stared at me thru furrowed eyebrows and said, "Sweetie, you have a better chance of hooking up with him than I do!"

"OH," I said as the crimson spread across my cheeks one more time.

"Johnny, I'll let you in on a little secret," she said to me softly.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Tommy likes you...has he come on to you yet?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, uh no, he and I have been playing pool at night, but uh, no...." I mumbled and stuttered with a beet red glow on my face.

She laughed then changed the subject by asking more questions about why I had chosen Tampa as my new home.

"Well, it's warm here all year...it's a big city but not too big...and it's a short drive to a large body of water," I answered.

"Have you been to the Gulf yet?" she asked.

"Oh, uh, no, not yet...been too busy working but I'll get over there soon," I said.

"Johnny," she began even though I had told her three times I prefer 'John', "you are smart, outgoing, you come up with funny lines that make girls laugh and my goodness, you're as cute as a boy can be...I guess I still don't understand why a boy like you would move a thousand miles away from home...surely you had a girlfriend who didn't want you to leave."

"Well, uh, she broke up with me a year ago...I guess I haven't gotten completely over it yet," I said.

"Ohhh, sweetie, that's so sad..." she said sympathetically.

She suddenly added: "Oh hey, it's almost happy hour -- you want to come to my place for a glass of wine?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," I answered.

She stood and walked towards the building. I followed close behind, admiring her shapely and jiggling butt.

***

The next morning at the store I tried to stay as busy as I could so I wouldn't think about the previous evening with Karen.

It didn't work. The shame and self recriminations lasted until lunch time.

What is wrong with me? How could I have done that? I asked myself over-and-over.

There I was with a beautiful and sexy woman who willingly wanted to have sex with me, who in fact, was the aggressor, and I'd gotten so excited I blew my load in my underwear...oh my God...how humiliating is that?

Worse yet, I was so embarrassed I ran out of her apartment without so much as saying good-bye.

What the hell is wrong with me?

An hour before quitting time a salesman came into the warehouse and said to me, "Hey John, there's a hot babe who wants to talk with you...my God man, are you two getting it on? You dog you...."

Oh no, I thought, how do I get out of this? I can't possibly face her after last night, can I? Why is she here?

I hesitated so long the salesman said, "Hurry up, man, why would you keep a sexy lady like that waiting?"

There was no good option. The guys in the warehouse were always poking fun at queers and faggots so I had better go talk with Karen or I might be included in their ridicule.

I took a deep breath and screwed a smile on my face.

"She has a smokin' hot body, doesn't she?" I said to the salesman.

"Damn straight, you dog!" he said in return.

My heart pounded in my chest as I walked towards her. She didn't appear to be mad. She actually had a pleasant smile on her face.

"Johnny," she said, "I have a roast in the crock pot and dinner will be at six."

"Oh, uh, I, uh...." I mumbled.

She held up two bottles of wine she was buying and said, "Come over at five for happy hour, okay?"

"Well, uh---" I stammered.

"I said, come over at five for happy hour, okay?" she said sternly.

All I could think of to say was, "Oh, uh, sure, okay."

***

I knocked on her door at one minute to five. She opened the door and instantly offered me a glass of red wine.

"Here, sweetie," she said with a smile. "Go sit on the couch while I do a couple things in the kitchen."

"Oh, uh, yeah sure, thanks," I replied.

When she joined me in the living room she sat very close to me. The wine was relaxing me. I didn't feel as self conscious as when I was knocking on her door.

"I want to talk about last night," she said.

Oh no. My hands began to tremble.

"You know, sweetie, what happened is nothing to be embarrassed about -- as a matter of fact, it was flattering that you found me so exciting you couldn't control yourself."

My face was beet red. My eyes downcast.

"Johnny, look at me," she said.

It took every ounce of courage I could muster to look into her eyes.

"I like you a lot and want us to be close friends...I want to be able for us to talk about anything and everything...you and I have similar minds and we laugh at the same things...I don't have many girlfriends so it would be comforting to know I can confide in you and what we say to one another will remain strictly between us, okay?"

I was confused. Did she just refer to me as a girlfriend?

"Sweetie, whatever I tell you and whatever deep, dark thoughts you tell me will remain our little secrets, okay?" she said sincerely.

Deep, dark thoughts? What does she mean by that?

"Oh, uh, okay," I said.

Dinner was delicious and I was just about finished cleaning the kitchen when I heard her call out from her bedroom, "Johnny, would you please come here?"

"Okay," I said loudly.

I dried my hands; started the dishwasher then walked to her bedroom. She seemed to spring out of nowhere.

Oh my hell...my eyes bugged open wide and my jaw almost dropped to the floor. She stood before me wearing a flimsy, red babydoll nightie and matching red, diaphanous panties.

My penis began rising as I stared at her outfit.

***

It's funny how in one day you can go from the depths of despair and the very next day you feel on top of the world.

Even the salesman from the day before noticed the silly grin I wore on my face in the morning.

He chuckled and said, "You got some last night, didn't you?"

I neither confirmed nor denied it and he said, "You dog -- way to go!" and left chuckling and shaking his head.

I was proud of myself. I had given her not one, but two orgasms, and she screamed her pleasure both times.

Not only that, but she made sure I was satisfied, too.

When she wrapped her nylon panties around my raging hard-on and furiously masturbated me, it didn't take long for me to have one of the best orgasms of my life.

She caught my explosive ejaculations in the folds of her panties and the mess it made didn't bother her one bit.

Yes, we had developed a special bond between us. I was happy I now had a friend I could confide in who wouldn't be critical, or judge my thoughts and feelings.

Chapter 2 -- Between a Rock and a Hard Place

A couple days later I was entering the pool area and I saw Karen and Tommy engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. When they saw me they suddenly stopped talking.

When I was standing next to them Tommy said, "Hey, cutie, you're looking good today!"

I blushed and replied, "Oh, uh, thanks..."

He lingered then smiled and said, "I have to work-out -- you guys have fun!"

He swiveled his head to me and asked, "Johnny, are we still on for pool at the usual time?"

"Oh yeah," I replied. "I'm going to kick your butt tonight."

He smiled and said, "Sure you are, kid...it hasn't happened yet but who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky tonight."

He and I had been shooting stick for five nights in a row. It had been an unexpected thrill when he first came to my door and asked me to shoot pool with him. I have to admit, I've come to like him very much in a short period of time.

Karen and I settled into the chaise lounges and she asked about my day. I felt so comfortable with her the words flowed out of my mouth.

Our conversation lasted an hour before she suddenly announced, "Oh, I almost forgot -- I have to do laundry today. Did you do your laundry yesterday like you said you were?"

I sheepishly replied, "No, I forgot."

"Sweetie, would you let me go first? I'm going out tonight and don't have much time," she said. "I'll let you know when I take my clothes out of the washer then you can use it."

"Oh, sure, okay," I replied.

Our building has three floors and at the end of each floor is a laundry room, but they only have two washers and two dryers. Sometimes it's a pain in the butt to get an open washer.

Forty-minutes later Karen knocked on my door to tell me the washer was free. I picked up my basket and followed her down the hallway into the laundry room.

I watched her remove a lot of bras and panties from the washer.

She turned to me and said smiling, "Yes -- it is the day to wash all of my 'unmentionables'.

She laughed and I nervously chuckled, too. I hoped she hadn't noticed me staring at her sexy undies.

When she was finished unloading the washer she cheerfully announced, "Okay -- your turn."