“Yes, Sir.”
He undresses beside me every evening before our shower and changes clothing in front of me too. I remind him of that, then ask, “Why does this feel different?” I have my own suspicions, but I’d like to hear his reasoning.
“You’re watching me.”
“I always watch you.”
He crosses his arms to shield himself from my view. “I want you to like what you see.”
His shame is a block of marble that I will slowly chisel away. “Has no one ever told you you’re beautiful?” I ask.
He shrugs. “No one who mattered.”
I take his hand to draw him nearer. I rest my lips against his navel, a subtle claim. “You are beautiful. I love seeing you naked. I want you to be comfortable being nude in front of me because I’d like to see more of your skin. To catch you lounging around my apartment, reading or watching television, wearing nothing at all, ignorant to my attention, that would arouse me greatly.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” he says shyly.
I sit back against the couch to offer him some space to maneuver. “I’m going to be asking you to strip for me often, so let me tell you exactly how I want it done. Unbutton your pants.” He follows my order without any hesitation. “Unzip. Very good. Now push your pants and your underwear down to your knees without touching your cock.”
His dick bobs enthusiastically and slaps his stomach, leaving a glossy smear on his near-hairless belly. I motion to my lap. Giovanni perches there, perhaps worried he might be too heavy.
“I’m used to having boys bigger than you on my lap,” I assure him. “Put your arm around my shoulders.” He anchors one arm around my neck and leans into me, sighing against the side of my face. I breathe in the scent of his skin—sunshine and the sweet tang of boy sweat. “What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I really want you to touch me,” he whispers like it’s a delicious secret. His finger hooks on the top button of my shirt and brushes against my chest hair, eyelashes whispering against my cheek.
“Your service pleased me greatly. I loved seeing you on your knees. You followed my instructions very well and took my cock so beautifully.”
“Thank you, Sir,” he says as the flush in his cheeks deepens. My hand strokes along his back. His skin is warm and so receptive.
“Now, I’d like you to show me what else your body can do for me. Are you ready?” He nods, and I grab hold of his blushing dick and give it a few tugs. He’s circumcised so I grab some lube from the end table drawer. Once my hand is slick, I go back to stroking him. Slowly, my wrist turns as I rise from the base of his shaft to the top of his pretty bell-shaped head, then down again.
“You have a lovely cock, Giovanni. Like a shiny golden scepter gliding along my palm.” His knees pinch together on a particularly good stroke, and it takes him a moment to recover.
“I like yours too. I’ve been wanting to suck you for a while, but you probably knew that already.”
I don’t think he could fake such enthusiasm, so perhaps I should give him credit for knowing his own desires. “Did you enjoy taking my cock in that way?”
“Yes, Sir. It made me feel useful.”
Usefulis an interesting expression and one I’ll likely try to dissect later.
“You have many more uses than that, and many more talents, but I’m glad it felt good to serve me.”
“I want to serve you, Sir, in all ways.”
“That’s a risky proposition, sweetheart,” I refocus my mind on the task at hand before my fantasies carry me away. “Tell me, when’s the last time you came?”
“Yesterday morning after you left for work.”
My mouth tightens, and a familiar possessiveness flares. “And what’s our new rule about that?”
“Boys aren’t allowed to touch themselves erotically,” he says, eyes trained on the steady motion of my hand gliding over his smooth prick. “I only come when you allow it, when I’ve earned it.”
“That’s right. Does this feel good?” His response is little more than a whimper. “Do you feel as though you’ve earned the right to come?”
“Yes, Sir. Please?”
“Please what,tesoro?”
