Straight Brad

Straight Brad

By William Monroe

Chapter One

I was getting off the 101, the Hollywood Freeway, at Sunset Blvd one afternoon in the middle of a week when I first saw him. Across the intersection was an incredibly hot-looking guy, maybe 21 or 22, with a great body, walking west on Sunset backward with his thumb out. If that wasn't enough to catch my attention, he wore a faded blue polo-style shirt, naturally well-worn jeans, cowboy boots that looked like they'd seen rough days, Aviator sunglasses, and yes, a dusty black cowboy hat. Young men who looked as if they wandered off movie lots or fashion shoots hitchhiking on surface streets throughout Hollywood, West Hollywood, and West L. A., though not as common as they were in the mid-20th century, were still thankfully to be found occasionally. My cars know what to do when we come upon one.

What really got my attention, though, well, two things, were that Brad was from Bristol, Connecticut, a fairly small, post-industrial city in my home state that had fallen on hard times but was picking itself up again. I'd met attractive young men Brad's age from Bristol. They were all straight, or so they said. Eventually, though, most proved to be eager to please. I was sure Brad would be the same. The other was that when I asked Brad where he was heading, he gave me a street number of a building on Melrose Avenue I knew was the location of the interview office for a company that produced softcore straight porn. It is amazing, some of the things I know.

I wasn't headed anywhere that couldn't wait for me to get there, and I was curious to check out the place, so I took Brad there. After I pulled my car to the curb in front of a totally nondescript, three-story, mid-budget office building, I took out my wallet and handed Brad my card before he got out. He looked at the card and then at me, a little confused.

"I know what this place is, Brad, and I'm pretty sure why you're here," I said, with a reassuring smile.

Before I got further, Brad looked at my card again, then back up at me, then said, "Hey, man, I'm straight."

"I know you are. I wouldn't have you be any other way," I assured him. "Keep the card. If you feel like it, or need something sometime, give me a call. L. A. can be a mean place. It's good to have a friend. And hey, I'm sure the folks inside will love you!"

And with that, he was gone.

Almost exactly 13 months later, Brad called. I know the date because he called four days before a not-quite-surprise birthday party at sea two friends were hosting for me on a 95-foot sailing yacht. As I expected, Brad had been snapped up and become "Stud-Cock of the Moment" in the revolving door softcore porn industry. Over the intervening time, he had soared to the top of that world and was now on his way back down. Now, straight Brad had a very used Porsche he needed to pay for and keep running, and a very nice apartment with a rent bill "Stud-Cock of the Moment" could afford, no problem; the problem was, another hot, young straight guy was now "Stud-Cock of the Moment."

I gave Brad the address of the pier in Marina Del Rey we would sail from the following Sunday morning, and told him to bring a sexy bathing suit and pack slacks and a nice shirt. We'd be partying too much for serious conversation on the boat. We would have that over a late-night dinner on shore after our cruise.

I won't bore you with details of the sail, except to say it was a typical day of play on the Pacific on a magnificent 90-plus-foot yacht outfitted with all the water toys such vessels are equipped. On board, in addition to my hosts, my partner and Boy, Ron, and I, were 14 other guests. They included two very attractive young guys I met at the Burbank Studios who were trying to become stuntmen, both of whom claimed to be straight; a soccer team member and baseball player from UCLA, both of whom were gay and stunning for eye candy, who, along with the stunt boys would make the day if nothing else, visually pleasing and possibly sexually stimulating, and my hot, problem-ridden straight softcore porn star on the way down Brad. We left Marina Del Rey at about 8:45 a. m.

The weather was gorgeous, and the day perfect for a leisurely sail. For nearly three hours, we cruised north along the Southern California coast past Santa Monica, Malibu, and my favorite restaurant, Geoffrey's, while the catering staff served light food and drinks. As we passed Geoffrey's, the whales began to breach and perform for us, as if on cue. Around then, I began to get horny and noticed Ron was up at the bow with the stunt guys, lying out and catching rays. One of the jocks flirted with me before we left, so I took him and his buddy down to the Master's Suite, which my hosts had graciously made mine for the day.

Who needs a birthday cake with candles when you can have young athletes with almost matching cocks with big, rose-colored leaking heads to blow? Having grown up on the water, I could do with missing seeing a few miles of it pass by. Instead, I spent that time with the jocks lying side by side as I bounced my mouth back and forth on soccer's cock and then baseball's, then back again, sucking, twirling my mouth, wiggling my tongue, slurping, up both boys' profusely leaking pre as the powerful boat rocked and rolled and thrust itself through the waves.

Who knows how long we were going at it before a noise made me open my eyes. When I did, as I lay on my back with a naked boy on either side of me, with one of my hands on the backs of each of their heads, holding their lips to either side of the head of my cock as they both kissed, licked, and sucked their way together up and down its eight-inch length, I looked up through the skylight hatch directly above at Ron's grinning face. Having my long-time Boy and partner -- you can read all about how we met in my story, "Ron," here on Literotica -- grinning down through the hatch while he watched two hot guys servicing his Daddy did nothing to soften my dick, but my look certainly made him leave.

After I unloaded all over my handsome sporty boys' faces and they, in turn, did a sixty-nine with each other while I occupied myself licking, kissing, and sucking on their nearly hairless balls, we showered together and dressed just in time for lunch.

Just before noon we anchored in Paradise Cove and spent an hour or so having lunch, and enjoying the quintessentially California beach boys from shore who jet-skied, windsurfed, and swam out to us to try to charm and beg their way on board. Then, at my request, we returned to Marina Del Rey, which, traveling against tide and current, was an entirely different experience from heading north, and it took nearly half again as long.

After we disembarked, Ron, as arranged, went off to spend the night at his girlfriend Jill's place. Since we were already at the beach, I had Brad follow me to a restaurant in Santa Monica. There he told me his tale of the rise and fall of Bradley Petersen. His old but not so bad-looking Porsche needed work, again; expensive work. His apartment in a new building on Holloway in West Hollywood just below Sunset Strip was more than he could afford now that he wasn't being paid top dollar anymore for the softcore straight porn he was willing to make. He already knew he might not make next month's rent.

When he finished, burning hot straight Brad, whose every inch of flesh he knew I had now seen, save about 15 square inches of crotch that his very small, tight, sheer, black bikini-style bathing suit concealed, sat across from me with his face looking so dejected. What straight Brad didn't know was that I was already intimately familiar with every inch of his body that bathing suit covered. I'd already enjoyed watching Brad's smooth, muscular straight ass flex, his big hairy when he began making movies and now very smooth balls bounce and swing, and his long, thick, hard, cut cock being stroked, and edged, and sucked, and shooting its load on demand at his director's command many times on my bedroom flat screen. Straight Brad seemed to perform very well on command.

"Oh, stop looking so glum!" I exclaimed. "We both know I'll be happy to do what I can to make those problems vanish like that," my fingers snapped, "you just have to want me to."

Brad tilted his face up and looked me in the eyes. "Dude, I told you I'm straight."

"Okay then, why did you keep my card? Why did you call me? Why did you come out on the boat today? Why are we sitting here? I'll tell you why, Brad... you know you need my help. You've already told me it's going to cost hundreds to get your car fixed, right? It will really be thousands. You're going to have to come up with, what was it, a couple thousand for rent plus utilities, and even more soon, and that's a continuing expense. And all you can say is, I'm straight? Really, is that it?"

"Can't you just help me out?"

"Brad, if you needed fifty bucks, or even a hundred bucks, and came to me with some good reason why I should lend you or even give you the money, sure, I'd consider it. Fuck, I like you, I'd probably give it to you, but we're talking about a long-term project here involving a lot of fucking money," I said, looking at him seriously.

"Okay, let me earn it..."

"Sure, buddy, I can think of several things you can do starting tonight to help yourself dig out of the mess you've made, but you don't seem to be willing to even consider them. All I keep hearing from you is, I'm straight," I laughed.

"But I am, dude..."

Time to lay the cards on the table for Brad.

"I know; you're straight. But now, you've gotten yourself into a couple of very big problems, so you have to consider your options. Do that. I'm the gay dominant top you want to help get you out of those problems. Maybe in a couple of weeks or less, while you're sitting in your broken-down car at the curb beside the pile of your shit the sheriff has hauled out of your apartment when you're evicted, you'll think about that again. Keep my card. In the meantime, I'll pay the dinner bill. I hope you enjoyed the day." And with that, I left.

Chapter Two

Less than three weeks passed before Brad called. He sounded pathetic. His car broke down on the freeway and was towed an hour before. It was now at a shop that said it could fix it, but the towing charge and repair costs were huge. As bad as that was, Brad's rent was due again in less than a week. He was already behind a month. If he didn't pay, he said the Sheriff would evict him in 15 days. Since relocating from D. C., I'd seen piles of people's belongings along the streets where Sheriff's deputies had dumped evicted tenants' stuff. It was not a nice sight.

"Calm down, Brad. Where are you?" I asked.

"Outside the shop off the 405." He sounded like he was close to hyperventilating, like he'd been running, and his words were breathy.

"Okay, I want you to try to relax and calm down."

"Okay."

"Are you still making videos?"

"Nah, they kept wanting me to do weird stuff in them, and when I wouldn't, they cut my pay again."

Weird stuff, I thought, chuckling to myself. I thought, yes, I had seen some of the "weird stuff" Brad had agreed to do.

"Did the guys at the towing shop tell you how long you have before they start charging storage for your car?"

"Five days. That sucks, man!"

"Yeah, it does, but life sucks sometimes. How long ago did they say five days?"

"Yesterday."

"Okay, so you have three more days. When life sucks, Brad, you have to just suck it up and do what you have to do. Does you calling me again after our last conversation mean you've accepted that you have to suck it up, Brad? Answer that question with a yes or no response, Bradley. I'm tired of fucking around with you," My voice made clear that it was decision time.

"Fuck..."

"Yes, or no, Brad?"

"Okay, yes, I guess so."

"You guess so, or yes?" I demanded.

"Yes."

"Call an Uber or a cab and go home... you can still get into your apartment, can't you?" it just struck me that he may have already been locked out.

"Yeah, they haven't locked me out, yet."

"Good. Take a hot shower. Stand under the water for a long time. Let it calm you down and relax you. Then dress nicely, not in some old jeans and a T-shirt. When you're ready, come to the address I'll give you. We'll talk about everything. I want to make sure you are completely clear on what I'm going to expect from you. Then we'll go out to dinner and discuss how we'll put this mess you've gotten yourself into, behind you."

"Yeah, okay, that's great. That makes me feel a lot better," Brad almost gushed, and I could tell he really was relieved. "Thanks!"

As soon as I hung up, I called Ron and asked if he could stay at his girlfriend's place that evening. Being Ron, he had to kid around.

"Hmmm, I don't know Daddy, I'll have to call her. She might have plans," he almost purred, which meant he was trying hard not to laugh.

"Remember when I used to make you wear that CB6000 24/7? Think about those times while you figure out if you can stay at Jill's," I urged with a slight chuckle barely hidden.

"Yes, Sir, I'll let her know I'm staying at her place tonight. So, Brad's finally coming over?"

"Good boy. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Oh, please remember to thank Jill again for me, for the card and flowers! I did so myself, but I want you to mention it too."

"Fuckin' A! Glad that finally happened!" Ron exclaimed. Great sub that he is; he can also switch with other guys when I let him. "Are you gonna let me tap that butt, Daddy?"

"Maybe I'll have him tap yours," I laughed as I hung up.

Brad arrived at my door just before 6 p. m. Even after only three weeks, seeing him again surprised me a little. He looked even better than when I last saw him at my birthday party.

I made Brad a drink, then took him into the small den off my home's living room where we could talk in cozier surroundings. When we were both seated and comfortable, I began.

"Okay then, you need to understand something, straight Brad, that you've kept assuring me you are for the past going on fourteen months, will continue to fuck women, just like you always have, just like Ron does. I like that Ron's fucks women, and I like that about you too, Brad. So don't worry about that at all, okay?"

I wanted Brad to get over his irrational fear that I was going to turn him into some sort of flamboyant gay sissy cocksucker. The thought of it was silly.

"Wow, okay, great!" Brad, lit up like I'd shoved a cattle prod up what I hoped and imagined was his very tight asshole. "Thanks! That makes me feel a lot better!"

"But now that you've realized that you've fucked up and have asked for my help, from now on, in addition to being straight Brad, you're going to be my Brad, too. You do understand that, right?"

"Yeaahh... but, fuck, man, what does that mean?"

"Brad, stop with the bullshit. You fucking well know what that means," I said, calmly, but directly.

"All I did was buy a bad car and rent an apartment that's too expensive..."

That was it. It was time to strip Bradley naked, so to speak; doing so literally would happen later.

"You think that's all you've done to fuck yourself up, you handsome, big dicked, straight slut?" I'd never spoken to Brad like that before. "Really? Is that really all you think you've done that will probably come back to fuck you up your fine ass?"

As Brad sat across from me, trying to find the right words with which to respond, I continued.

"How many have you made? Wait, I know, 26 videos is the correct number. Don't you think the one with you naked with a big red ball gag strapped into your wide-open drooling mouth and a doggie tail shoved up your not-virgin, young straight asshole, being led around on all fours by a woman holding a leash attached to a leather strap wrapped tightly around your shaved balls making them bulge rather painfully from the look of them, might, if seen by the wrong people, come back to burn your tight little butthole, straight boy?"

"Fuuuucccckkkk!!! You've seen that??!!" Brad yelled as he shot up off his chair.

"I think I've seen all your cinematic achievements, Brad," I admitted, the grin on my face and sarcasm in my voice doing nothing to hide how amused I was. "And it gets worse. Do you recall me just mentioning your not virgin asshole? That was because in the same movie that you were playing doggie, the Domme who led you around on a leash used her strap-on on you too. I don't know how you can possibly forget. Now, shut the fuck up, sit back down, and listen. I'm still willing to help you, but here's how it will be."

Then I laid down the law to Bradley Petersen.

"That car is history. It's going to cost thousands to fix that piece of shit car. It's not worth it. Let the tow shop keep it. We'll get you something else that you can afford. Same thing with the apartment. We'll pack up your clothes and whatever personal stuff you have and move you out. They'll officially evict you. So what? You're what, 21 or 22? Your credit rating will take a hit, but not a major one," I explained.

"Fuck... I'm so fucked..."

"Yeah, there'll be fucking, and if you're good and do as you're told, you'll still be able to do some of it. Now answer me, Bradley."

"I don't understand."

"In addition to being straight, Brad, are you now my Boy Brad too, because I'm done fucking around with you? As I said, it's a simple yes, or no answer question."

Dead air for a few seconds.

"Yes."

"Then answer me correctly. No more fuckling around. I know that you know how to do so."

"Dude..."

"You've been far too headstrong, for much too long, Brad. You've been playing at this with me for over a year, and I am done being patient. I watched you crawl, Brad. You do it too well, so stop being coy," I said flatly, laying everything out for him.

"Please don't hurt me."

"I'm waiting."

"Yes, Sir, I'm your Boy."

"Good boy. And, Brad, I will spank your fine ass when you deserve it. We both know you will deserve to be disciplined from time to time; that's your nature. You'll go out of your way to give me cause. I will never hurt you just to do so. Oh, and, Brad, how often do you masturbate?"

The silence was delightful.

"Bradley, I asked how often you jack off."

"Gezzz... man..."

"Don't be embarrassed. All you hyper-horny 22- and 23-year-old straight guys jack off more often than usual. Besides, you won't be having any secrets from me."

"Fuck, man, I don't know, once a day, I guess."

"Once a day? Really?"

"Yeah... sometimes twice..."

"Twice when you're getting laid, maybe," I laughed, unable to keep myself from doing so while viewing the level of discomfort I was generating in the hot young straight man sitting across from me. "I figure you for beating off at least three times a day, when you have time and can find the places to do it."

"Good to know. You won't be masturbating anymore unless I'm there to watch."

"Wha..."

To head off what I knew he was about to say, and to make the dejected young stud perk up a bit, I added, "Oh, after we talked earlier, I called a friend who owns Dreamrods Specialty Auto in the Valley. He's not only sure he has a job that will earn you enough money to afford a nice lifestyle, but there's also a car on his lot he thinks with my help we can get you onto."

Occasionally I met interesting people who presented me with investment opportunities. One such person was Anthony Martine, a married, bisexual guy in his early thirties who owned a small Burbank auto repair shop that serviced high-end, mostly specialty vehicles. I met Tony through friends in the BDSM and D/s scene, but that's another story.

Anthony and I became friends. Okay, I'll be honest; being part Irish, part French, and part Spanish, Anthony was sizzling hot. That he, like a surprising number of attractive, young straight guys, got off on the humiliation of being dominated by older, even slightly older gay men only made getting to know him during those times when he could get away from his wife all the more enjoyable. When Tony wanted to expand his business into specialty vehicle sales, I saw a market and knew his reputation for excellent work gave him an edge, so I invested. I also coined the name for the new business: Dreamrods Specialty Auto. Considering its owner, the guys who would be working there, and the vehicles the company would sell and service, I couldn't resist the double entendre.

Anthony handled the Service and Parts Departments, while my Boy and partner Ron worked at Dreamrods full-time, handling the front end and sales. Every so often, when I met a young guy in need of work, and I thought he would enhance the business, I had Anthony and Ron check him out. Chris and Mark, two young roofers I met while they were trying to pick up women -- and hustle gay guys -- at a West L. A. Happy Hour bar, whom you may have met in my story "Training Chris and Mark," have given up roofing and work at Dreamrods now. So does Tommy, the young burglar and car thief who made the mistake of picking my home to break into, whom I wrote about in "Correcting Tommy."

Brad and I spent another little while talking about the logistics of moving him out of his current apartment and temporarily into my home with Ron and me, and about transferring ownership of his old, broken-down Porsche to the shop where it now sat. We decided that I would handle the car's sale, and that he and Ron would take care of moving Brad. He said he had no emotional attachment to the little furniture he owned. They would put in storage what he wanted to keep, along with his boxed-up belongings, except for the clothing he would need. Then we went to dinner.

Chapter Three

I knew from almost the beginning that Brad Petersen would be a long-term project, but that was okay; I also knew that once Brad surrendered and became fully involved in his training, the Boy he would become would be well worth the wait. Brad's training began that night, after dinner, when we returned to my home. As soon as the garage door began to close, as I shut the car's engine off, and we both opened its doors and stepped out, I looked at Brad over the roof and said in a casual, normal tone of voice, "Take your shoes off, drop your pants and remove them, and your shorts."

As Brad opened his mouth to speak, I cut him off.

"Shsssshh, don't speak! Everything for you depends on you listening and now doing exactly as you're told, Brad."

"Don't say a word. Just strip off your pants and underwear, fold them, and lay them on the roof of the car."

Brad looked at me in silence for at least fifteen to twenty seconds, then he began to remove his pants. A moment later, straight Brad stood naked from the waist down with his trousers and boxer briefs folded neatly on the roof of my car.

"Good boy! Excellent! Now, stroke your cock for me, and let go inside." With that, I led Brad up the three stairs to the door leading from the garage into my home.

As we made our way down the short hall past the laundry room, kitchen, and dining room, I motioned toward the large living area, with a pool visible outside through large windows, as I continued toward my den.

"Brad, there's a large, shallow black ceramic bowl on the shelving unit in there, to the right of the bar. You can't miss it. Get it, please, and bring it back to my den. Be quick... and Brad, keep stroking your cock. I want you to get used to doing that for me."

"Oh... geezzz..." I heard Brad groan as he went off to fetch the bowl.

Training Brad was going to be great fun. Although he'd deny it, the handsome straight guy was a born pervert, and although he had no idea what was involved and didn't know he was about to start learning, straight 23-year-old Bradley Petersen was only moments away from diving into kinky gay sex head first.

Brad, who had not forgotten my admonishment to keep stroking his now steel-hard-nearly-eight-inch-cut-cock, was back quickly with the correct bowel. As soon as he arrived, Roger escorted Brad to what had once been a sitting room off his den but was now a private playroom. The room's centerpiece, literally, was a multi-purpose bench I had built for milking, fucking, and/or disciplining special young men.

"Place the bowl on the table over there, Brad," I instructed, pointing to a narrow table against the wall, "and strip off the rest of your shirt and socks. Be quick. I don't like horny straight guys like you to keep me waiting while they get naked."

Where previously Brad had been standoffish and resistant to the idea of performing sexually at even the most basic level with me or any man, now that he had finally accepted that he was in no position to protest any longer and had accepted my offer and his new status as my Boy, his former bravado dropped away with what little clothing he still wore. In less than thirty seconds, straight Brad stood before me totally naked, with his fist pumping his now rigid cock.

"Brad, don't say anything, just let me finish. Because it has taken so long for us to arrive here in this room, and because I'm sure you've thought about this moment, this night, for as long as I have, I'm not going to keep you in suspense; I'm going to tell you exactly what to expect," I said, as I walked slowly around Brad while running my hands over his body. "No, don't stop. Stand perfectly still and keep stroking your cock."

As I circled Brad, feeling him up possessively, like I was sure he'd have liked to do with a woman, I kept talking to him.

"The first thing I'm going to do tonight is milk you dry, Brad. I'm going to strap you down over that horse and milk your balls dry. That black bowl you retrieved is going to catch all your cum. After that, while you're still strapped down, I'm going to teach your straight mouth how to properly suck cock... the way I like my cock sucked. Your lesson will continue until you get it right, but I promise, I won't cum down your throat. I know you've told women that, but I really do promise. When I'm satisfied that you'll always remember how to properly give head, I'm going to use some of your cum in that bowl to lubricate your straight asshole and my spit-wet dick so you don't yell too loudly when I take your cherry. Do you have any questions?"

"Dude... fuck... please... can't I... can't you just..."

"What? Come on, tell me?' I demanded.

"Can't I just... suck your dick, or something?" Straight, naked, masturbating Brad whined so pathetically that I almost moved to him and took him into my arms.

"I'm afraid not, Bradley. This is what everything you've done, and said to me especially, since we met at Sunset and the 101 has been leading to. You know that. Give me the bowl, and then climb up on the Milking Horse, my handsome cum cow. Time to strap you down for your ride."

"Oh fuck... geezzz... cum cow... fucccckkkk..." Still obediently stroking his hard cock, Brad moved the short distance to the table and returned holding the big black bowl.

"That a boy..."

Brad didn't hesitate or complain as I guided him onto a special "Horse" I'd had built. If anything, Brad's already hard and leaking cock only leaked more profusely as he settled his muscular body onto the heavily padded saddle and leaned forward.

The horse looked a lot like a gymnastics horse, but its body was heavily padded, leather-covered, and molded much like the seat of a Japanese racing motorcycle. As with a racing motorcycle, its rider leaned far forward, resting his chest and belly against the horse's slightly upward-tilting front, as Brad did when he climbed on. Lying on his belly and chest with his fine ass lifted and thrust back above his naturally spread and lifted thighs. Brad's hard, leaking cock and his shaved balls hung conveniently and accessibly positioned at the rear, with his small, tight, very pretty, and completely exposed and vulnerable little virgin straight stud asshole clenching and puckering above.

I lifted Brad's thighs up along the sides of the horse and strapped them to it at his knees. I cuffed his hands to handles on either side of the horse at the front. A hinged arm at the front of the horse swung up and locked into place, keeping Brad's handsome face high and facing straight ahead. As I raised the arm and ordered Brad to open his mouth wide, Brad's eyes opened almost as wide as a four-inch-long rubber cock mounted at its top made Brad spread his inexperienced lips and jaws wider as it slid between them, over his tongue and deep into the straight boy's already salivating mouth. With the arm locked in place, all straight Brad could do was look up into my eyes and suck as I tousled his hair and ran my hands possessively over his naked, strapped-down body, caressed his lifted and parted butt cheeks, tickled his asshole, cupped and weighed his shaved balls, and squeezed his long, thick, drooling dick.

Once Brad was secured and I could judge where his cream would splash as he was milked, I placed the black bowl in the proper position on the floor to collect Brad's ejaculated jizz when I allowed him to cum. Then I began Brad's first milking.

No bare, wooden milking stool for me; to stay comfortable for the hour or two I'd be repeatedly jacking Brad off, I pulled a heavily padded, ergonomically correct wheeled clerical-type chair over beside the horse and sat down. There was no need for lubricant. Brad's profusely leaking precum provided more than enough pre for his first long, leisurely handjob. As my left fist pumped up and down straight Brad's nearly eight-inch-long, thick cut cock, and my palm twirled around and around the ultra-sensitive head of the twenty-three-year-old's exceptionally pretty penis, my right hand wandered up and down the underside of Brad's strapped down left thigh, occasionally sliding high enough to caress the curve of the moaning straight stud's smooth flexing left butt cheek.

"I don't suppose a man has ever felt you up like this, especially not while stroking your hard, leaking cock, has he, Bradley?" I whispered into Brad's left ear as my fingertips danced lightly up and down the spread-open crack of Brad's ass and my left palm polished the head of his cock. "Sssssshh.... don't try to talk. Just suck on that big dick in your mouth and leak some more pre for me."

And that's how it went; me caressing what my new straight cum cow had assured me for the past fourteen months was his straight ass with my fingertips sliding ever deeper into his crack, ever closer to his tight, puckering and pouting little virgin to cock asshole, whispering the naughtiest, dirtiest, most perverted things I intended to do to him into his ear while he moaned and grunted and ever more drool dripped of straight Brad's chin as he sucked on the rubber cock and his over-heated penis burped out more and more pre cum for me.

Occasionally, my hand would leave Brad's ass for just a few seconds. The boy's pleasure-fogged mind always noted its absence with a bit of surprised annoyance. But my hand returned quickly enough, which was also noted with a soft moan each time. I rewarded Brad's moans by lightly petting his tender, clenching, and pouting rosebud with my heavily precum-lubricated right index fingertip. I couldn't help but chuckle at how straight Brad moaned and tried to wiggle his gorgeous ass back and grind his newly sensitized butthole down on my fingertip when I petted and teased it while masturbating him. How quickly straight boys learn their assholes are secret erogenous zones, I mused.

Then, it was time for straight porno stud Bradley Petersen to learn his true place and cum like a horny little bitch. As I polished the head of Brad's dick while he sucked contentedly on that rubber cock, I leaned down and tickled the inside of Brad's left ear with the tip of my tongue. As expected, that surprised and shocked Brad, making him turn his handsome face and his eyes as much as possible toward me. The instant he did, while stroking the top half of his throbbing and leaking cock at what I by now judged to be Brad's ejaculation speed, I thrust my precum-slick right index finger all the way up into Brad's ass and punched his clock.

"Cum for me now Cum Cow," I whispered into Brad's ear in what was an unmistakable command as we looked into each other's eyes, and straight Brad almost instantly obeyed. There was only a second or two delay while Brad moaned so loudly he almost sounded as if he was mooing for me while my thumb pad tickled the g-spot on the underside of his cock and then long white ropes of cum began to explode from his engorged penis and splashed one after the other into the perfectly positioned black bowl. That's my good boy, Brad, give it all up for Daddy..."

My hand kept pumping Brad's cock, and my finger kept plunging in and out of Brad's tight, clenching asshole, its tip punching and sliding over my Boy Brad's prostate as one... two... three... long, thick ropes of my new Boy's cum coated the bowl, followed by two more not quite as long or thick white ribbons and two weaker, almost pathetic streams of the last remaining jizz in my Cum Cow's balls burped out of the slit at the tip of Brad's still rigid dick.

Being strapped down naked on the horse with a cock gag shoved in his mouth, while being milked for the first time by a man until he was shooting blanks, had worn Brad out. Even so, I kept him on the horse, but I loosened his restraints. In addition to allowing Brad more freedom of movement, I positioned an electro-milker at the rear of the horse, under Brad's junk, and inserted his still semi-hard cock in the machine's fuck tube. The electrically operated machine, very similar to the apparatus used to milk cows, slid rhythmically up and down Brad's increasingly hardening cock at varying speeds and with adjustable amounts of heat and pressure, expertly milking my handsome straight slut's profusely leaking penis. Despite being worn out by his first milking, it wasn't long before Brad, who remembered my admonishment not to cum without permission, was bucking on the horse and attempting desperately to get me to allow him to splash his cum into that big black bowl for me again.

And so it went during Brad's second, and third, milkings over that very long night, for Brad at least. As dawn broke, the 23-year-old hottie who would never again tell me he was straight was lying naked on his side on my bed, looking up into my eyes, kissing, licking, and sucking on my cock as I coaxed the last few drops of semen out of his overworked and weary balls.

Chapter Four

Getting Brad from his second milking, still lightly strapped down on the horse, sucking on the rubber cock while being masturbated by the electro-milker, to lying on my bed sucking on my cock while I milked the last few drops of his cum out of him was not a straight shot.

After I withdrew Brad's hard, pulsating, and throbbing penis from the fuck tube and milked his second load into the waiting bowl, I slid it back into the tube, and slid my chair around to the front of the horse, pumping up its height a little as I moved. Before the panting, sexually euphoric and enraptured young stud could even begin to recover, I released the arm that kept Brad's face in place and lowered it, removing the rubber cock from his mouth. When Brad's eyes suddenly flew open as the four-inch-long rubber dick slid out of his mouth, he was confronted by my very real eight-inch cut cock standing straight up before his face. As Brad opened his mouth to protest, the electro-milker clicked on again, and whatever Brad meant to say turned into an extended groan.

"Look up at me, Cum Cow," I ordered in a soft, firm voice.

Still softly moaning as the wicked milker slid up and down his already rigid penis, Brad didn't even hesitate.

"This will be no different than during your first two milkings," I said, looking down into Brad's eyes as I ran one hand through his hair while massaging his shoulders with the other. "Only this time you're going to be sucking on my eight-inch-cock instead of that phony four-inch rubber one. Now open your mouth. I'll feed it to you slowly so you can get used to it."

With that, I began to trace Brad's lips with the tip of my lightly leaking cock.

There is nothing quite like the hesitant, fearful, hungry, resigned, barely audible whimpering sound from deep in his guts that a guy who has long deluded himself into believing he was straight makes as he opens his mouth to suck his first cock. Bradley did that for maybe fifteen seconds or a little longer while his eyes darted back and forth between mine and my cock towering before his face, then he pressed his lips to its underside and kissed it. I don't think he meant to, but that's what he did. Then he looked back up at me, as if seeking approval. And I gave it.

"Good boy. See? You're still here... still alive... still Brad. Now lick up its underside," I directed.

Only a second or two of hesitation this time, then without even closing his eyes, as he kept them locked on mine, Bradley Petersen dragged the flat of this tongue very lightly up the underside of my cock almost to its head.

The soft sound of the electro-milker masturbating... milking yet again... Bradley in the background as I trained him to suck cock was so erotic.

"Excellent! Such a good Cum Cow, Bradley! Now, this time, from my balls, all the way up to the tip of that big head. Then keep your lips there and look up into my eyes and wait for me to give you instructions," I directed my new and, it seemed, eager-to-learn cocksucker.

"Cum cow... oh my god... oh fuucckk..." I heard Brad moan softly as he obeyed my instructions, "licking a fucking cock... oh fuucckkk..." as his still virgin to cock tongue snaked out and started to lick up my shaft.

"That's right, Cum Cow, drag your tongue all the way up my big dick to the tip of its head. Show me what a good boy you're going to be from now on." I encouraged as I massaged Brad's shoulders, he licked, and the electro-milker pumped up and down Brad's hard, throbbing cock. "Imagine how good my big juicy penis is going to feel and taste in your mouth when I let you suck on it like you were that tiny rubber cock."

Ignoring my instructions, Brad's eyes close as his pursed together lips lubricated by his spit and my pre began to slide around and around the head of my cock as the cock-worshiping recently straight stud lost himself in lip-polishing the head of my dick.

"Moo for me while you polish my knob, Cum Cow," I whispered. When Brad didn't react right away, either by revolting, or with compliance, I wasn't sure my softly whispered command had penetrated and that his sex addled mind had heard me. Before I issued the command again, though, even more softly than I'd spoken, I Brad's unmistakable response float up softly from my novice cocksucker's kissing, licking, cock knob polishing mouth "Moo... moooo... moo"

"That's my very good boy, Brad, such a good boy, you are! Now suck that big juicy cock head into your mouth, and earn another orgasm," I urged as I tossed Brad's hair. "It's time a big, handsome guy like you learns to suck a cock. But don't worry, Brad, I won't cum in your mouth, and I actually do mean that."

And that's exactly what happened. The dam within Bradley Petersen burst, and the last remaining floodgate protecting Brad's straight self-image crumbled. His mouth opened, and he gobbled up my cock, taking its entire length into his mouth and throat while looking up into my eyes, coughing and gagging to accommodate all of it. When he calmed down and became accustomed to having my cock in his throat Brad stopped, and without me telling him to, he remained still with my entire nearly eight-inch cock invisible in his previously virgin gullet.

For at least ten to fifteen seconds, I remained still, towering over Brad, looking down at his lips and nose pressed into my trimmed bush, amazed at his still untrained ability. Then, as my eyes roamed over Brad's strong back, its sleek muscles glistening with his sweat, I reached out with my right hand and slapped his left butt cheek hard as I slid my cock up and out of his throat, leaving only its big head in his mouth, resting on his tongue again. Brad gasped loudly and gulped down a deep breath of air, then I slapped his ass, and thrust my cock back down his throat again. That's how Brad came for the third time that night: on the horse, as I fucked his mouth and slapped his ass, while the electro-milker stroked a weak pathetic dribble of cum up out of his over worked balls.

Not being an innately selfish guy, I realized Brad had been behaving himself way beyond my expectations since his arrival hours earlier and deserved a reward beyond the multiple orgasms he was having. I mean, a lot of people might consider being forced to ejaculate repeatedly for the enjoyment of others more than your own pleasure to be more a form of torture, than pleasure, but hey, to each his own. Still, I wanted Bradley to enjoy being at my place.

Sliding my throat slime and pre-coated cock out of my novice cocksucker's mouth, and being sure to compliment Brad on how good his mouth and throat felt, I rolled my chair to the rear of the horse, lowering its seat this time, lifted Brad's still semi-hard cock out of the milking tube and pushed the machine aside. Brad's fourth milking of that night would be done by me, the old fashion way, by hand. To keep my handsome Cum Cow focused on his hind quarters while I was milking him, I intended to give Brad's fine muscular ass the deep tonguing, eating, fingering, and of course, spanking for having fucked with me for over a year, it so dearly deserved.

I began by telling Bard, who now that the front arm and its attached cock were not locked up in place had the freedom to turn his head and look over his shoulder to turn and look over his right shoulder. When he did so, I lifted the big black bowl containing his discharged cum off the floor so Brad could see it. With Brad's eyes on the bowl, I reached into it with my left hand and coated it with Brad's slimy jizz. I held my jizz coated hand up so Brad could see it as I placed the bowl back on the floor, then I took his now suddenly fully hard again cock into my cum coated hand. The soft, humiliated moan Brad gasped out as my cum-cover fingers encircled his penis was amazing.

"Mmmmm... I can't even imagine how many times you've beat your meat with your own fist wet and slimy with your own leaked pre or cum, boy," I teased the former straight slut as my fist coated with his own cum began to masturbate him. As soon as I said that, before Brad could even think of a response, I leaned forward and tickled the center of his asshole with the tip of my tongue.

Brad's face, still looking back over his shoulder at me in a lazy, half-assed way, snapped up and he tried to crane his neck to look back further to see what was happening as he gasped and his nearly perfect little butthole did the Watusi against my mouth, nearly spinning in a circle on the tip of my tongue. "Whatthefuck!... Oh my god!... What are you doing to me???"

Laughing, with my chortles muffled by Brad's cheeks, my left fist pumped on his now throbbing again dick, while my right thumb and index finger reached deep into my sexy boy's ass crack as my tongue continued to trace and tickle his cherry hole and pried its tender, sensitive lips open just enough for me to slip my tongue inside.

"Ooohh fuck... ooohh fuck... ooohh fuck... oh my god... oh geezzz... ahhhh, god damnit, eat me you motherfucker!"

"Ahhh, finally! There he is. Welcome to the party, Bitch," I laughed as I thrust my tongue deep up Bradley Petersen's virgin ass.

After that, I pretty much ignored Brad's whimpers, moans, and sighs as I milked his throbbing cock with one hand and pried his right butt cheek away from the small, tight ring of anal muscle. While Brad tried as hard as he could to thrust his asshole back against my mouth, I hunkered down between his muscular cheeks with my lips and my tongue working hard to transform it in the formerly straight boy's mind into his ultra-sensitive male pussy that craved to be kissed, licked, nibbled on, tongue fucked, and fucked. And eventually, after I'd slapped Brad's as so red it almost glowed while I was stroking his cock and tongue-fucking his asshole while he was struggling in his straps to thrust his fine as higher and higher to receive my palm, that's exactly what I did.

As Brad thrust his ass up and let out a louder-than-usual moan, instead of the palm he expected to have crack against his burning butt as my tongue thrust up his ass, he received my palm to distract him, but instead of my tongue it was the big head of cock already coated with his own cum that pressed to his tongue-loosened asshole and thrust up into him.

Just like before, Brad's face snapped back over his shoulder, not this time to see what was happening, because he knew.

"Aahhhgrrrrahhhh!!!!! oh my god... aahhgrrahhh!!!... oh god... oh geezzz... oh FUCK!!! ahhggrah... oh god... you're fucking me...

"Oh yeah, I am, and damn, you've got a sweet ass..." I whispered as I stroked Brad's hard, amazingly profusely leaking again, cock as my pelvis rocked, pile driving my cock in and out of his butt.

"Oh fuck... it hurts... ugh... ughmmm... ummm..."

"Your penis is saying it loves it."

"Nooooo!"

That's about when I began to long dick Brad, thrusting my cock down and then up inside him, making sure its head rode over his prostate on both the in and out strokes.

"Oh my god! Ughnnnah... What the fuck! That hurts," Brad whined.

"Does it?"

"Oh geezzz! Fucccck... What the fuck, dude! You're gonna make me piss..."

"Sir, not dude, and you're not going to piss; you only feel that way because I'm riding your prostate."

"But enough talk, Cum Cow, it's time for me to fuck another load out of you. From now on, I think you know the only sounds I want to hear out of you until your jizz splashes into the bowl. Am I right?"

"Yeah..."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, Sir..."

Reaching up, I tousled Brad's hair fondly and whispered, "See, easier each time."

Then Bradley Petersen's first fucking began. Slowly at first. My initial penetration of Brad's asshole -- plucking his cherry -- had been sudden and unexpected. I did that intentionally to let the once-arrogant, aggressively straight guy know I could be too. This entire night was meant to teach Brad that. Experience had taught me that occasionally that approach was needed to head off problems or to correct issues before they got worse. Now I would make Brad want to be fucked.

When I had the horse constructed, I built several safety systems into it. One was a quick-release system for its restraints. Buttons on all sides of the horse instantly released all the restraints and the front arm when pressed. I pressed one near me and could soon tell from a change in his body's tension that Brad knew something had changed.

A few seconds later, as my right hand gripped his hip, he softly inquired, "Sir...?"

"Yes, Brad, I've released all of the restraints," I acknowledged as I pulled his ass back on my cock, as I continued to fuck it. Standing behind Brad now, holding his right hip, reaching around his left one as I stroked his cock with him draped over the horse being fucked up his ass, I got no indication that Brad was in any hurry to get away.

"I think you're well enough trained by now, Cum Cow. What do you say when your man fucks you?"

Silence and the feeling of Brad clenching his only a few minutes earlier virgin asshole tightly around my long, thick cock as it plunges in and out of his increasingly eager to receive it body.

"I'm waiting, boy. I understand," I reminded Brad, softly.

"Yes, Sir... moo..."

"Good boy, but we both know you can do better than that. Let's both try to get you doing your best. How about that?" I encouraged, and without waiting for Brad to reply, I began to fuck his ass harder, faster, and deeper.

My first indication that Bradley was getting with the program was when he lifted himself up off the horse on extended arms and turned around to look back at me over his shoulder again in amazement as I abandoned his dick and took both of his hips in my hands. His right fist immediately flew to his cock to replace mine. When I began to grind the head of my cock against his prostate, he looked deeply into my eyes and, with his fist pumping rapidly on his dripping dick, let out his first respectable "Moooo."

That was it. I held Brad up on his toes with his fine ass impaled by my cock, fucking it hard and deep while the guy who for nearly fourteen months couldn't keep himself from telling me how fucking straight he was bellowed out "Mooooo... Mooooo... Mooooo... Mooooo..." as I fucked his ass as if it was a gutter whore's pussy until I let him cum what he could for me for the fourth time that night as I shot my load up his ass.

Later, on my bed, Brad nursed on my dick, while I milked the last dribbles out of his cock. Ron came home a little while later.

Brad's doing well now. He and Ron have become great friends. He works at Dreamrods, and is driving a not-very-old BMW. It's nice to have him around the house too. Since both he and Ron have girlfriends they often stay with, and the house doesn't lack bedrooms, the place doesn't feel crowded. Like so many "straight" guys, Brad is a bottom, not only a D/s bottom, but a Bottom, bottom, which works out great, because Ron occasionally does like to fuck, and he knows better than to try that with me.

***

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