Roger's Coming Out

Roger's Coming Out Ch 01

Designing Intern

All characters portrayed in this completely fictional story are over 18. In this first chapter, a bigger-than-life alpha hunk trains a mousy twink--opening him to his inner desire and professional potential. Warning: Arguably there is non-consensual sex in this chapter. © Brunosden, 2025. All rights reserved.

First person, in Roger's voice...

Colby Johnson, my summer intern, arrives today. I work for ARM, a large comprehensive design firm in New York: architectural design, interiors, and graphic design. Typically ARM employs six or more interns each summer, recruited from all the top art and design schools--Pratt, RISD, SCAD, Harvard, Penn, Chicago for example. Interns were typically seen as extra-work burdens by the employees to whom they were assigned--since they required more instruction and supervision than the work that they accomplished merited. But, virtually all of our new hires had been interns first with us--and we were growing and needed to hire.

So, of course, the mentors were all typically junior members of the ARM team, like me--and the supervision time was added on to our assignments (not replacing them). The only perk: we got to charge occasional lunches and dinners to ARM throughout the summer.

I'm Roger Stoneman, an architect/designer. I've been at ARM for just about two years--and I had interned there as well. It has really been my only job, save some summer work during college.

Colby is a would-be architect, with one more year at Penn to complete his M. Arch. He's 24, about my age. Colby had received terrific recommendations from his profs. He was described as "thorough, creative, confident, and brilliant--a self-starter, take-charge young man, performing like someone years older." The description was a little puzzling for a grad student--but in these days when a negative report is legally actionable and where profs are trying to distinguish their best for plum jobs, we didn't give it much further thought. He was potentially a star that we might want--or perhaps it was just exaggeration from a prof who had been infatuated with him.

It's going to be my job to determine whether he lives up to his recs and rep. But, it was also going to be a tough summer for me. I was starting my first project as project leader--with a team of three, designing a portfolio of eight model residences and a clubhouse for a section of a new planned community in Jersey. One of the upstart golf clubs had gone bankrupt, been purchased by Toller Bros, and was being reworked into one of their suburban mega-communities--keeping just nine holes of the original course to make room for the homes. The preliminary floor plans were due by Friday.

I hadn't interviewed Colby--and so we would meet today. He was in HR right now signing his life away. And being bored with recitations of dos and don'ts at ARM. They'll bring him to me when they finish. Poor guy. Nobody should have to go through that shit.

Since we're going to be together for a little while as I tell you this story, I guess I should give you a little background about me. I'm 24, a transplant New Yorker--a reluctant resident of this incredibly aggressive and noisy city. I moved here when I started with ARM. They were and are my preferred employer, and they are in New York, which may be just a little too much for me. I am originally from York, PA where I excelled academically, following a completely STEM curriculum, finishing at 16, a nerd--yeah with the dark-rimmed glasses. I failed miserably in the social setting. I was the exact opposite of a teen's definition of an alpha male. I started at RPI and did my architecture work at Virginia. I'm six foot, slim and not very athletic. I run and do use the gym from time to time, not as often as I should. So I'm not muscled. I weigh in at about 165. So I'm naturally cut. I'm pretty much a loner and passive. But, I'm known for delivering the goods when the instructions are clear.

I'm not currently attached or dating. I guess you could say that I'm not really a sexual guy. I dated a bit at RPI, but engineering majors were considered nerds and generally found it difficult to date. And, of course, I was a few years younger than my class mates. The curriculum was intense and required hours of work. Since I dated little, even though reasonably attractive, a few of my male classmates hit on me from time to time--including one roommate. Most of them were bigger and more muscular. And I did enjoy a joint-jerk, and an occasional blow, provided he initiated the encounter--and made me feel like I had to. Once or twice, a classmate would suggest that we try something more (actually that he should try something more). But, I ran from the potential experience. Since I've been in New York, I've been celibate. 24/7 work doesn't leave much time for anything else. Actually that's a lie. I do have time, but not the inclination to put myself out there to find someone in this hyper-aggressive environment. In our part of New York, if you frequent a gym or go to a club or bar alone, you are assumed to be advertising for companionship and more. And if you're my size, they assume you are a bottom and probably a cock-hungry twink.

I've spent the morning slaving over a new idea for a floor plan--one that "feels like 3000 square feet, but is in reality 2000 square feet." Building costs have skyrocketed. Buyers still want space--but they can't afford the massive floor plans that were popular a few years ago. So we've developed techniques--larger windows, "open" floor plans, uniform "luxury vinyl" flooring, removal of doors and moldings--all to give the illusion of more space than was there. I tend to like more traditional ideas--real rooms, nice moldings, hardwood floors. So this has not been a great morning for my creative juices. I've been struggling. And the Toller account partner in charge has been hovering nervously--even though I've only had three hours so far to tackle the job. He's not sure I'm the guy for this project, and they are a very important client.

There was a "knock" on the frame of my cubicle. I looked up. Terry, from HR, was there. She introduced Colby, said her farewell/welcome, and quickly left him with me. I pointed to the only other chair in my space. He's way over my height (about six-four), deeply tanned, cleanly shaved--but with evidence of a definite four-o'clock shadow although it was only eleven, a wide athlete's face, blue eyes, and mahogany hair with blonde highlights--carefully done to suggest casualness, the light streaks probably from a bottle. He was wearing a navy polo that strained to cover a massive chest, chinos and Dockers. He was a hulk and a hunk. He must weigh over 220. And filled the cubicle with his personality before he even said a word. As he sat uncomfortably in the small chair, he smiled, and our eyes made contact. I jolted, I hope not visibly. I think every nerve in my body must have vibrated. His eyes seemed to look right through me. He was insanely beautiful. No one--man or woman--had ever had such an impact on me before. He was one hell of a man.

I stuck out my hand in welcome. And when he took it, his massive mitt dwarfed my hand. He held it tight for a few seconds, we both felt the spark and the tension. It was unreal. I was speechless and motionless for what seemed like hours (but was probably less than a minute) as his gaze drilled into me. Fuck! He's reading my mind, undressing me and examining my soul. And my soul is not exactly pure at the moment. I was already melting in lust for this Adonis. And, what's more, I'm pretty sure he knows it. He definitely must know the impact he has on people.

Finally, I snapped. I welcomed him to ARM and briefly described what I was currently doing. He filled me in a little on his background, with one of the deepest drawls I had ever heard. Exactly the tone and languor that could lead to a plantation boudoir. Then I walked him over to the bullpen. I'm sure I felt his eyes burning a hole in the seat of my baggy cargoes--that revealed nothing. I showed him the center space with comfortable chairs and tables used for small conferences and study. Then we entered the drafting bullpen. He selected a desk (really a drafting table with a hydraulic lift, so he could sit or stand and work). One other intern was already there. She froze and stared. Then stammered to introduce herself. She too had felt the magnetic sexual energy that seemed to radiate from him.

I handed him a folder (about Toller and its carefully sculpted "philosophy" of building), explained that I was currently working on floor plans for new construction, and left him to read about them and the assignment. "I guess your first project will be to work with me on these plans. I'll be by to pick you up for lunch in a few minutes at 12:30. First day is on ARM. Feel free to interrupt me with questions anytime. Welcome to ARM. I hope you'll profit from your summer with us." He didn't say anything-- his eyes had said it all. Then I headed back to my desk--by way of the toilets. I wanted to see if my color had darkened. (It hadn't, but I did fuss over my blonde hair for longer than usual, and then I had to rearrange my stuff in my trunks. I was very pleased that the cargoes were a size too large. I had a semi, moving toward a full on erection.)

Lunch was in a nice place, but not too formal, a block away from the Chrysler Building where ARM had two floors of offices. Actually, the whole building had developed sort of a vibe for design firms. It had become a tower of creative people. We each even had a glass of wine (on ARM).

At lunch, we got the vitals out of the way, man-style (i. e. short and sweet). Me: single, living in New York in a rented loft two blocks away, folks in Pennsylvania, one sister, older than me, football fan (college not pro), runner, no significant other at present. My roommate (in whose name the loft was rented) had gone off to London for a three month consulting assignment--but he kept up his share of the loft for his return. Not much social life, but, I did "hang" with several of the other ARM designers on Fridays after work.

Him: single, only child, father died a few years ago, beach-bum, sailor, swimmer, really all water-sports, high school football star, gym-rat, no current significant other. (The smirk when he revealed that suggested however that although there was no single "other" at present, he was definitely a player.) He was currently crashing on the couch of a really small apartment being sub-leased by four other Penn guys for the summer--and was looking for something more comfortable that he could afford. A few further remarks suggested that at least one of the guys in the apartment had already succumbed to his charms--so it wasn't always the couch.

More than once, his knee touched my inner thigh. And I think he was actually enjoying the jolt it produced. Each time, his eyebrows lifted in question and the corners of his lips turned up. He was a tease. An aggressive tease. Normally, not my type. Such guys terrify me.

Then, he talked about hobbies, TV shows and games. He asked what I watched. I smiled shyly, and admitted that, when it wasn't the news or sports, I loved Romcoms. (He perked up at the references. I think that I was admitting to being gay or at least curious.) Colby admitted to similar tastes, but wasn't too specific except to note that he loved internet games where there was one on one aggression. And that he was really good.

The afternoon went by very slowly. I couldn't concentrate. Colby started a rough floor plan exercise, and I think I'm close to a final on my second house. He came by my desk several times to ask questions about the work. He often looked over my shoulder, placing a heavy hand right there, and once he even offered a suggestion. When he did, his head bent over my shoulder and I could feel his heat and I think I could detect his musk--and had trouble vocalizing a response. But he was a perfect gentleman (or maybe a perfect seducer). He left me confused, but wanting more. My crotch, hidden under the drafting table, seemed awfully tight each time he left.

By the end of the day, I had decided that if I was going to get anything done over the coming summer, I needed to get my act together vis a vis Colby. I needed to establish the ground rules. I intended to make it clear that office relationships were taboo--which actually wasn't entirely true. But, before I could do so, he took the matter out of my hands. He came by the office, dropped a few sheets of floor plans on my desk, and invited himself back to my place. I can't remember how he actually did it, but before I realized it, I had agreed. He had asked if I had plans for the evening. Then, silently stared as I considered my options. I think it was all in his eyes. And he looked so hungry. So I invited him for a drink. He accepted and referenced the loft, not the pub that I had meant.

We walked over and went up in the ancient industrial elevator. At my floor, I inserted a key, then another, and struggled to open the heavy metal door. I motioned him in. By New York standards, it was palatial. A giant "great room" occupied most of the space with raw brick and stone walls, scarred wooden floors, and large windows. At the back of the space, a loft divided it vertically into two rooms--one above the other--creating bedrooms. Mine was up. Phil's was down--and currently empty save some storage that I had dumped there. The only bath was on the main floor, but it was modern and large--no tub, but a walk-in shower.

His eyes lit when he looked around. I guess it was really pretty special. And enormous for one person. "This place is pretty masculine--did you design it? And you're all alone here now?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked to the sofa as though the place were his and sat.

"Wine or beer or water?"

"Beer."

Later, as we sat on the sofa, he filled in a few more details on his life. Actually, he wasn't from Charleston, but one of the non-touristy barrier islands very nearby. He was a beach bum and totally into that lifestyle. Everyone on the island knew everyone else. Everyone knew who had slept with whom. He claimed to have slept with most of the girls and fucked many of the boys in his class. And many of the teachers. Most marriages were young, often forced by pregnancy, and semi-incestuous. He needed to get out--for at least a little while. His Momma had warned him about New York, but he needed to see what it would be like in a big Northern city. Very pointedly, he mentioned that he was looking forward to joining the sexual experiment that young New Yorkers were enjoying--frequent, anonymous sex with various partners of both sexes. Unlike me, the city didn't terrify him. It was a jungle and he was an apex predator. It was teeming with prey.

I didn't talk much. I was enthralled with his drawl--and with him. He seemed really innocent and naïve--but I had this deep feeling that he was a secret giant alpha, seducing me. Maybe that's a feeling that you get when in the presence of a smooth, beautiful guy who was totally comfortable in his skin. I got up to pour myself more wine, and when I sat, I noted that he had moved toward where I had been sitting. I felt like he was the spider and I the fly in this, my own house. His magnetism was irresistible. The web was already stretched around me.

He continued to speak in that slow melodious drawl. Then, to make a point, his hand moved to my thigh--and squeezed. The conversation continued as his hand moved--to the inner thigh, and then brushed my stuff. Fuck, I was hard. And now Colby knew it too. He set his can on the large cluttered cocktail table and turned to face me. "I thought so. I'm hardly ever wrong about these things." Then, he drew me slowly in and our lips met. His lips were thick, sweet and pillowy--like a girl's, but simultaneously hard and demanding. He used them expertly to open me so his tongue could invade. No one, male or female, had ever kissed me like that. He literally was taking my breath away.

One hand went to the back of my neck and held me close. The other reached around and pulled me into his chest, as my legs straddled, and I lowered onto his lap. Every motion was so smooth that I had no time to think or resist. I wanted this. Fuck, I wanted this! Without any conscious thought, my own tongue began to duel with his and my lips sucked hard onto his. Soon, we were breathing together. My eyes were closed. It was all about feeling--the feeling of being overwhelmed. I felt as though I was falling and falling deeper and deeper into a vortex.

I opened my eyes to find him staring intently into my face. "You are a very good looking boy, Roger. Almost angelic." I swear he had already taken me prisoner. And his eyes were projecting his dominance. His dick was rock hard, nestled in my crack, and seemed huge, even confined within the chinos.

(Angel? Was that supposed to be a compliment? I'm not sure. Perhaps he was the devil, sent to tempt me. But, I was certainly enjoying the temptation so far.)

Without asking, he pushed me over onto the sofa and stretched out above me, pinning me to the soft cushions. We necked and ground together for what seemed forever. Then, he drew back, and using both hands, drew my polo off and cast it away. His lips were back--but this time they were sucking on my tits. The electricity was like thunder and lightning on a hot summer night, flashing, rumbling, striking. I was dazed.

He moved again, releasing me momentarily as his hands moved to my belt and zipper. He backed away and drew my cargoes--and my trunks from me, leaving me totally naked before his fully clothed kneeling figure. My leaking dick stood tall, betraying once and for all my interest--and surrender. Thank god that I'm not small in that department--a respectable seven plus and uncut.

"Nice dick! He looks so beautiful.... and so harmless. Just like his owner. But, I bet he has his moments."

He pulled off his polo, revealing pronounced hairless chest muscles and a deep six-pac. He attacked again. His hands went behind my knees and lifted, placing my calves on his shoulders. His lips were on me.... again. Licking, then suckling the peachy head of my cock--now rigidly erect. I was speechless and paralyzed before his aggression. Never before in my life had someone so beautiful, so dominant, so forceful taken an interest in me. With such magical results. He pulled my crotch tight to his face. His athletic tongue swiped down and then up the shaft, circled the corona and sucked me in again. Then he inhaled the balls, one at a time. And finally, after he pushed me higher, his tongue circled the rim and into my hole. By then, I was writhing under his furious onslaught. And leaking big time.

"Stop! Stop! I'm not gay."

"Are you saying that to convince me or you? You've been inviting me, leading me on all day. Your rock hard little dick is actually saying something else. You are definitely one gay boy, Roger. I'm gonna prove it to you."

Little? I'm seven and half. Reasonably thick. And a shower. And quite pleased with my size, thank you.

Breathlessly, I tried another tack. "We can't do this. You work for me. It violates the rules. No "special friends" within the firm. You need to go now."

"Are you really sure? I can leave now if you want me to. And we'll keep this summer a total hands-off experience for both of us. But, I don't think you're quite so sure." A spit-coated finger circled my anus and plunged. There was pain, but he kept up the pressure, and after he had penetrated most of the way in, he touched me in a way that I had never been touched before. I screamed, at first with surprise, then with pleasure. The lightning had moved from the atmosphere to inside me. I was sparkling with a kind of intense pleasure than I had never before felt. I think I actually raised my ass into his face to urge him further. I guess I had changed my mind--or at least little brain had taken over. Something inside me had communicated with my dickhead. I guess it was anything he wanted. Anything.

He released my legs, apparently getting ready to leave. But something deep inside (besides his long talented finger) recoiled. My legs moved automatically to surround his neck and hold him to me. In response, he licked the tip of my shaft.

He pulled back and relaxed into the sofa. He pulled open his belt and started to open his chinos. I fell to my knees to worship his manhood. But, he held me off. "We're gonna do this right the first time, boy. I'm feelin' the need to seed! You can suck me later."

His eyes turned very deep blue. Except for the bright fiery light deep inside--perhaps a glimpse of the inferno. "I thought so. Let's take this to your bed. We're going to have some real fun. We can talk later. He pulled me up and into his lap as my arms reached around his neck. Then he stood and headed for the stairs, as I clung tightly to him. He paused and looked into Phil's room. I motioned up. So he put me down and I started to climb. He followed right behind, touching my globes with each step while I warily wondered what I had gotten myself into. He moved to the bed, sat on it and pulled off his chinos. He was commando--but the white "shadow" of a bikini Speedo on a beach bum shone in contrast to his darker tanned body. On him, the skin contrast was absolutely obscene. Manicured pubes framed a big uncut cock--maybe eight inches plus and thick. It was a bigger than mine--and it seemed huge. I think it was the way he held it. It was rigid and bounced off his abs. A trophy that fit his muscled physique.

He stood and pushed me onto the bed on my belly. A hand went to the small of my back to hold me there--as though I were going to move. "Where's the lube, boy. A hot little piece like you must have it at the ready."

"End table. Top drawer. With the condoms."

Seconds later, his cool lubed fingers were opening me as his other hand pulled my pillowy ass cheeks apart.

"Shit. I guess I was wrong. I thought you were a slut. You're so fuckin' hot for my dick. But it seems you're a closet bottom. I'm guessing this hole is virgin, isn't it? It's pink, tight and moist. Trembling in anticipation. Just waiting for someone like me to open it up. This is definitely going to be fun--for both of us."

He didn't wait for an answer, but added another finger, reached deep, tapped the nut and began to finger fuck. Who would ever have guessed that a hunk could turn you on so completely and own your body with just a couple of talented digits in the right place? I must have tried to squirm and push back into the pleasure he was producing. He swatted my ass cheeks a few times, making it clear who was in control. Then I felt his hard chest on my back. The fingers withdrew. His hands went to my shoulders to hold me against him. And the hard head, which somehow he had sheathed and lubed, began to push against my anus. "Breathe boy. Push down. It'll make it easier. I promise you are going to love this. My cock is a fuckin' magic wand. It turns boys who think they're straight into my gay cum-dumps."

Then he pushed through the ring, and I felt the searing pain. I was about to shout, but his musky hand covered my mouth as his thumb pulled my lower lip down and he forced the two fingers he had used in my ass inside. "Suck on these boy. Concentrate on the sucking; the pain will fade." He had obviously done this before and knew the impact he had on guys like me. He had me totally under control--his muscled body holding mine to the bed, one hand squelching any protest, his musk intoxicating my senses and the other holding me tight to his crotch.

So I went limp as he began to drive his cock deep inside. The pain soon faded and was replaced with incredible pleasure. His fullness stretching my chute seemed totally natural, completing me. I loved feeling him inside. And the throbbing maleness of his shaft on my prostate was like no other pleasure I had ever experienced. Just imagining the beauty on top of me made me shiver with pleasure.

Then he released the pressure on my back and stood at the edge of the bed--which gave him greater hip leverage to drive and bottom. My limpness gave way to participation. My ass rose repeatedly to meet his strokes. As I moaned in pleasure, even using encouraging words for him to go deeper. He had terrific stamina. Pounding me again and again. Softening my chute. Stretching the walls to fit him like a wet suit. Punishing my nut. Raising my temperature. And testing the limits of my endurance for both pain and pleasure. He kept up the taunting, "Fuck, what a little slut," "This ass is so hungry for my cock," "Take it boy, take it deep," "Like that, squeeze it," "Yeah, take it my little Yankee Doodle."

Finally, I felt his thighs tense and his gut draw in. Then he drove again, froze deep inside, and began to fill the bulb in my inner gut with his hot Southern-boy spunk. It came and came in spurt after hot spurt. That pushed me over. My entire body shook, then stiffened. It was like his cock was touching every nerve in my body. I was ready to explode with the intensity of the pleasure. I spasmed into the bed. Then, from deep in my balls, I felt the orgasm building. My legs tensed. My glutes clamped hard. My dick stretched long and thick. I even felt the spunk moving up the shaft, hot and forceful. Until I blasted into the sheet. I think I may have momentarily lost consciousness. Then, it hit me. He had brought me off without touching my dick. The biggest load that I had ever dropped. I was his. Anytime. Anywhere. Just do it again.

Then, just as I was relishing his fullness in my ass--and the emptiness in my balls, he pulled out, climbed over me stretched out on the bed. "Not bad for your first, boy. You'll get better with practice. You've got a lot to learn. Now clean me up."

It was a command, not a request. But, somehow something clicked, and I responded. I rose and was headed for the stairs to retrieve a towel from the bath downstairs. "No, boy. Use your tongue." I recoiled at the audacity, but then I looked over at his body stretched out on my bed, his muscles pumped with the exertion of the fuck and his dark cock still semi-hard towering over the whiteness of his secret flesh. I definitely wanted more of that. His darkened eyes stared into me--no through me. And I was sunk. He had me again. Anything he wanted.

Later, after I cleaned him--as he had carefully directed my "work," he pulled me into a bear hug. His hands spread over my back and my ass cheeks, massaging me until I was hungry for more. I thought we were ready for another bout. Certainly, I was ready. Then, abruptly he released me. "What are you making us for dinner, Roger? You've made me very hungry. I'll be down in a minute, and I'd like another beer."

"And we're going to have a long talk about your mentorship for this summer. Somehow, I think we're going to have a great summer--and that ARM is going to be offering me a job next year when it's over. The tables are about to be turned. You're gonna love my dick--in your mouth and in your hole. You're gonna love it. I'm gonna prove that you can't live without it. Without me."

I had a flash of fear at what I had done. But, it immediately dissolved. He was promising me a summer of incredible sex.

"By the way, thanks for inviting me to spend the summer with you in this loft. I've had two nights on that sofa. And that's enough for me."

We had dinner. Then we went to his place to get his stuff. And that night he moved in with me. It had taken less than twelve hours for him to take over my life. He fucked me again. This time bareback, claiming that he had nothing to fear from a virgin like me. And I think I now understood his "take charge" recommendation. I had known him less than a day, and he was already running my life. This was going to be one hell of a summer. So different from what I had anticipated. But, in the back of my mind, I thought, so welcome. I needed someone like Colby to move me out of my comfort zone and my ennui. Maybe I'd learn a few things this summer too. The thought of the shame of becoming his sub didn't even occur to me. An Adonis had picked me as his mate! Fuck, he had called me his angel. What could be better?

The next few days and weeks were the most intensely lived of my entire life. At work, Colby effectively took over the project, suggesting tasks to me and the other team members--not demanding, but casually and tentatively suggesting ideas that we always adopted. (The dom attitude he showed in the loft was held in check at the office. He took direction, was deferential and careful. Somehow, he knew not to embarrass me in the office. He was a totally professional actor and manipulator.) He was talented; he almost had an instinct for the correct placement of a line or an opening. We made progress, tremendous progress. The floor plans were really creative and the elevations were unusual and beautiful.

At home, I cooked and cleaned. We always showered together and dried with fluffy terry. I knelt to accept his rigid dick whenever he wished--in the shower, on the sofa or even in bed. And positioned myself in his lap or on the sofa or in the bed for his use. At first he orchestrated my service, but after a few weeks, he began to reciprocate the blows. He said he was vers--and that after he had established his alpha role, he always wanted his subs to service his ass. I ate him, sucked his balls, deep-throated his dick, swallowed his cum. He asked me to fuck him, but I refused. I was very content to be his bottom. And feared that I could never do for him what he was doing for me. So he taught me to use my mouth and my fingers.

He selected my daily outfits--tighter, more flamboyant and more suggestive than I would ever had chosen. After the first week, I naturally fell into dressing the new sexier me. I moved exclusively to button up shirts, fitted and deeply veed at the neck. I was in trunks with cock pockets--or commando. We visited a downtown barber who carefully sculpted my pubes and removed all of my chest hair. Then he stocked douches, plugs, flavored lubes and tit clamps. Finally came the silk panties and thongs. In a few weeks, he changed me--from a passive asexual nerd to a good-looking dude, a twink hungry for cock, ready to stretch out for him anytime. I was getting stares on the street, and the few times we went to bars, guys would hit on me. Colby beat them off. But I had the feeling he was like my fairy god-father--or maybe the devil.

We (no he) found me a gym and a trainer. I worked out every day and did double squats--all at his insistence. "My dick likes a nice tight bubble. You need to make that happen, boy."

He fucked me every day--in the morning with his wakening urgent wood and at night more slowly and roughly with his musky pole. He spooned me every night. And began to edge me mercilessly and control when I came.

And I ate it all up. No one had ever taken care of me like this before. He was a professional sex machine and taught me more positions and moves than I thought were possible. I was gaining body definition. My ass learned to love his dick. It actually began to protest after a few hours of his dick's absence. I had it bad. Real bad.

Even our conversation at home changed. My "Roger" disappeared to be replaced by "boy," "babe" or "bitch." All in all, it was the sexiest, most enjoyable summer of my life. I had discovered my natural sub.

Near the end of the summer, I got an email from Phil. He was returning to New York Labor Day weekend and looked forward to working his way back into the easy life we had led. (Phil too had been secret about his sex life. He hadn't dated--or at least if he had, it had been discreet and away from the loft. I knew he was a strong, forceful personality who typically got what he wanted. But, he hadn't ever initiated anything with me, thought. But looking back at our year together, I realized he was probably quietly seducing me--and I had been oblivious to his desires.) Fortunately, Colby was due to leave a few days before then--so Phil and he would never meet.

Despite having to mentor a new guy, my productivity during the summer increased dramatically. And my confidence in presentation meetings increased. It was a paradox: by releasing my inner sexual submissiveness at home and in bed, Colby had brought out my professional confident work persona at the firm.

On Monday of his last week with us, Colby got his permanent offer from ARM. So he would return to school with guaranteed employment with us upon graduation. I took him to dinner that night. Colby had not needed the summer internship. He was already operating at a full employee level. Nevertheless, he thanked me for my mentoring. Then, I looked deep into his eyes and I thanked him for my summer internship. He laughed. He had helped me to discover myself. I was definitely gay, now grooming myself as a target at the clubs and bars we visited, and typically a sub and bottom. He fucked me for the last time that night. I had gone from being a passive fearful twink to a power bottom. Colby had created me--and I owed him more than he could ever imagine.

Later that night, when we spooned, he whispered, "Next year when I return, you're going to take the next steps. I'm going to make you into top. Or at least vers."

I doubted it.

But, Phil was coming home to a new roommate. I wonder if he'll appreciate the transformation. Tolerate the new me? Or ask me to leave--it is his lease after all.

TBC

BD