I have been a very lucky man: my parents could afford to send me through college and school-work came easy for me; fresh out of college I landed a prestigious and lucrative position in a major law office; when my father passed-away I inherited the family business; with little effort I built the business up to the point where a competitor bought me out and I made a huge profit;
I took that money and made a killing on the stock market and was able to retire at the ripe old age of forty.
I’ve been lucky in love, too. For the longest time I concentrated on school and then work. I didn’t allow myself the luxury of personal relationships. I knew early on that I was gay, and would socialize at clubs, and inevitably go home at closing time with the prettiest boy in the club.
My mother recently passed-away (no, that was not lucky) and I moved into her house until I decided what I wanted to do with it. It was a small two-bedroom with a nice screened-in porch. I loved watching the world go by inside that porch.
One day I was sipping a glass of wine on the porch while watching a new boy move into the house next to me. The house was a four-plex, and he was renting the downstairs apartment immediately next to my house.
He was a young and pretty thing and I decided then and there that I would seduce him–just looking at him gave me an erection. I had turned fifty the day before and this boy would make a nice birthday present.
On the pretext of going to see the owners of the house, Floyd and Lavita, I casually introduced myself to the boy. We chatted and I invited him over for a beer when he was finished.
His eyes lit up at the mention of beer, I guessed he wasn’t old enough to legally drink. Floyd invited me inside when he opened his door.
“So what’s the new kid’s story?” I asked.
A wry smile came over Floyd’s face. “You never let the cute ones get by your radar, do you? You know,” he continued, “it took me three months to rent out that apartment—and now you want to take him from me?”
I laughed. “You rich old bastard, you don’t need the money…besides, you said yourself you think he’s cute.”
“He sure is a pretty boy, but I don’t think you can turn him like you did the last one,” he said.
Floyd was referring to Billy, a previous tenet of his who I seduced and is now my part-time boy-toy.
“Maybe I can’t, but what if I do turn him? Wouldn’t you like a piece of the action?” I asked.
A glazed look came over Floyd’s face. “Yeah…I really would like a crack at him…”
“I’ll give you the same deal we had the last time,” I told him.
Floyd smiled and shook his head, “Okay-okay…if you can get that boy to kneel between our legs it would be worth losing another tenet.”
Floyd made a copy of the boy’s apartment application and questionnaire and gave them to me.
“Happy hunting,” he said as I left.
“That’s half the fun,” I smiled.
I held the door open for the boy as he struggled with a large box.
“Looks like you’re building up a powerful thirst…” I said as I noticed the sheen of perspiration covering his exposed flesh. “I’ve got the coldest beer in town.”
He smiled. “That’ll be great, Mister Jones—I’m almost done—maybe I should take a shower before I come over?”
“No—don’t bother—a little sweat never hurt anyone.”
I went home, poured a glass of wine, filled an ice bucket with three bottles of beer and ice then sat on the porch reading the papers Floyd had given me.
‘John’ was from a large northern city and moved here to attend college. He went to school for only one semester then it appeared he took a job at a grocery store. He didn’t have any local references. On the application he listed his folks, a brother, a sister and four friends–all of them living a thousand miles away from here.
Oh my—the possibilities for this boy excited me. My cock became semi-erect in my shorts. I found myself hoping that I found ‘Johnny’ interesting enough to make him my live-in boy.
I studied him as he approached my house. I guessed him to be 5’7″, and 140 pounds; light brown hair and a slender frame. When we shook hands earlier, I noticed he was rather small-boned—my hand dwarfed his. He had delicate features.
He knocked on my screen door—the screen prevented anyone from seeing inside the porch.
“Come in,” I said.
I opened a beer for him and he sat in the chair across from the loveseat where I was sitting.
“So Johnny—do you prefer ‘John’ or ‘Johnny’?” I asked.
“Well, I guess I prefer ‘John’, ” he said.
“Would you mind if I called you ‘Johnny’?”
“Ah…well…no—I guess not.”
“What do you do? Do you work?…go to school?…or are you independently wealthy?”
He laughed—he had a beautiful smile and laugh.
“No, ah, I work at Pantry Pride—I stock the shelves.”
“Sounds like a good job.”
“Well…it doesn’t pay much…not like the grocery stores back home.”
“Where are you from?” I asked. He told me. “You were probably in a union up there—we’re a right-to-work state—if you don’t have a college degree I’m afraid you won’t find a good paying job here. Ever thought about going back to school?”
He shifted uneasily in his chair. “Well, actually…I moved here to go to school—I lasted one semester—then I had to find a job.”
“I don’t mean to be nosey, but what happened? Why did you quit school?”
He blushed. “Well…they kicked me out of the dormitory for drinking…I couldn’t afford a place of my own and my folks wouldn’t help me out—they said I needed to learn a lesson…I had to quit school when I got this job.”
He finished the beer quickly so I opened him another. Everyone has at least one major character flaw—something that grounds them in reality—something that stops them from being over-confident and cocky about life. His was obviously alcohol.
I found his honesty very refreshing. I liked him.
“Do you have any hobbies?” I asked him. “What do you like to do when you’re not working?”
“I’m always on the internet at home…I like to read a lot of different websites—usually political stuff.”
I mentioned websites I liked and he perked-up—we had similar interests and views. Midway through his second beer I noticed his eyes getting watery, and he was becoming excitable.
A cheap date, I mused.
He was relaxed and talking freely. We made each other laugh. He was a smart boy with an open personality but he definitely had a drinking problem. When he finished his third beer I asked him if he wanted another or maybe a glass of wine.
“Well…ah, actually I’ve never had wine….”
“There’s a first time for everything—would you like to try a glass?”
I had him follow me to the kitchen—he was a little unsteady on his feet. He made a joke about how clumsy he was. I poured him a glass of sauvignon blanc and refilled mine. We sat on the couch in the living room. I decided it was time to ask him about his sex life.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked.
“Ah…no…not right now….”
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“Well, yeah-sure…of course….”
He appeared to be uncomfortable with this conversation.
“Are you a virgin?”
His face flushed beet-red. “No-no-no—I’ve had sex.”
He took two large swallows of wine then continued.
“You know…I kinda have a hard time meeting girls…I don’t know what to say to them…I don’t know what they want.”
“Hmmm, who does? Maybe you’re gay,” I said, wanting to see his reaction.
“Oh no—no I’m not gay—I like girls.”
“Have you ever been naked with another boy—or a man?”
His face remained red. “God no, Mister Jones—I could never do that.”
It was time to change the subject. I asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner.
“I have a couple steaks and baked potatoes—are you interested?”
“Yeah, sure—I’m getting hungry.”
“Me, too,” I said. “C’mon, let’s go out back and fire-up the grill.”
When we went through the kitchen I refilled his glass.
It was during dinner when I told Johnny I was gay. He tried hard not to be shocked, but his demeanor changed immediately.
“I don’t have a problem with that,” he said. “I think whatever anyone does in private is their own business.”
I smiled at him, and said, “Well, of course I agree…as a matter-of-fact—I find you very attractive.”
He blushed again and I changed the subject.
While Johnny was clearing the table and loading the dish washer I called Billy and told him to come over in an hour.
I refilled our glasses and we sat on the porch again.
“Johnny, I won’t bite you if you sit next to me—it’s a better view from here.”
He reluctantly sat beside me on the loveseat.
“The grass is growing fast—seems like I just mowed it.”
“It is kinda long.”
“Hey,” I said, “want to earn forty bucks? I’ll pay you forty dollars to cut my grass—I’ve got a riding mower and it would only take about a half hour to do the whole yard.”
“That’s a lot of money for a half-hours-worth of work, Mister Jones” he answered.
“Johnny, I can afford it—I just don’t want to do it myself. Interested?”
“How about tomorrow morning? When do you have to go back to work?”
“Not til three in the afternoon—yeah, I’ll cut it in the morning—thanks.”
We watched as Billy walked up to the door. He knocked twice then walked inside.
“Johnny—this is Billy.”
They shook hands then Billy leaned over in front of me and planted a long kiss on my lips. Johnny pretended not to look, but I saw him watching us out of the corner of his eye.
“I’ll be right back,” Billy said and disappeared into the house.
“C’mon—let’s go back inside,” I said to Johnny.
Not long after we settled on the couch Billy joined us in the living room. He was naked except for a brown leather jockstrap. He twirled around so we could see the thin strip of leather between his bottom-cheeks. Then he sat on my lap and I pulled him to me and we kissed again.
Johnny’s face was flushed, but he didn’t say a word. He watched us. Billy reached down and caressed the unmistakable bulge in my pants. Billy slowly worked my zipper down and reached inside my slacks and found my erection and stroked it. Johnny’s eyes were wide open. His breath caught in his throat.
Finally he said, “Ah, I, ah…I guess I better get going….”
“See you in the morning?” I called after him.
“Yeah-yeah—how’s eight-o’clock?” he asked.
“Fine—just fine,” I said and we watched him hurry out the door.
I gave Billy a kiss. “Good boy,” I said.
Johnny knocked on my door at eight-o’clock sharp the next morning. I answered the door wearing only boxer shorts. He was wearing blue-jeans and a tee shirt. I invited him inside. He tried hard not to look at my shorts.
“Johnny, you can’t work out doors in this heat like that—the humidity will kill you. Wait here.”
I retrieved Billy’s old gym shorts and gave them to Johnny. He protested.
“Johnny, trust me—you’ll ruin your clothes with all your sweat. Go in the bathroom and put these on.”
He slowly went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. When he emerged wearing the shorts, he still had on his tee shirt.
“Johnny—take that off—you’ll stain it—you’re not accustomed to this kind of heat.”
He pulled it over his head and gave it to me.
“That’s better—c’mon—I’ll show you where everything is.”
When I walked behind him I had trouble controlling myself. He was one hot and sexy boy; covered only by the tiny gym shorts. My cock grew stiff in my boxers. I don’t think he noticed.
I showed him what needed to be done and left him alone.
When I knew he was finished I stood in the doorway to one of the bedrooms about thirty feet from the front door. I had Billy on his knees sucking my cock. To Johnny, it would appear we were trying to be discreet, but he would still be able to see us.
Johnny came inside without knocking. I was sure that coming in from the glaring sunlight Johnny wouldn’t be able to focus his eyes right away. He stood in the doorway of the porch and I watched his face tighten in disbelief as he saw us. I acted as though I didn’t see him.
He stood watching us as Billy sucked my cock and stroked my shaft. His other hand massaged my balls. Billy brought me to the verge of climax before Johnny came through the door. We tried to time it so Johnny would see me shoot my load into Billy’s mouth. Billy had assisted me in seducing other boys in the past.
It took longer than I’d planned, but much to my delight Johnny stood motionless watching us the whole time. Billy has a wonderful mouth so I closed my eyes—a smile on my lips. Suddenly I felt the familiar explosion in my balls.
“I’M-CUMMING-I’M-CUMMING-I’M-CUMMING….” I shouted as Billy swallowed my load.
Johnny didn’t leave until my deflated penis slipped from Billy’s cum-slicked lips.
I patted Billy on the head and said, “Good boy.”
I allowed a decent interval of time to elapse before I knocked on Johnny’s apartment door. It took a while for him to answer. When the door finally opened his breathing was irregular and he was slightly disheveled. I knew what he’d been doing and it secretly thrilled me.
“Johnny, you forgot to get your money,” I said as I handed him two twenty-dollar bills.
“Oh, ah…thank you, Mister Jones,” he mumbled.
When he reached for the money I took the opportunity to casually step around him and strolled a few feet into his living room. Having been in the apartment before, I knew the layout. His bedroom was through the open door on the right.
I smiled to myself when I saw the fresh stain on his bed sheet.
“Johnny, have you been masturbating?”
The look of horror in his eyes was priceless.
I continued, “Oh my God, did you see me and Billy in the foyer? I’m so-so sorry—I thought you were still working outside…”
“I, ah, no…I mean—ah….” he stammered, unable to complete a sentence.
I smiled and spoke calmly trying to reassure him everything was alright.
“We didn’t intend for you to see that, but you know, in our world that was just a simple act of one person giving pleasure to another—perfectly normal—I apologize if it upset you.”
He had regained his composure. “No, ah…that’s okay—I’m not a prude, or anything….”
I smiled and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Good—I really hope you and I can be friends—can we be friends?”
“Yeah, sure, of course, Mister Jones….” He relaxed and smiled.
Later in the day I went to the grocery store where Johnny worked and found him unloading boxes in the cereal aisle.
“A good, hard-working man, I see.”
His face flushed when he saw me but he was amiable and stopped to talk with me.
“Did you like the wine from last night?” I asked him. “Those were the last two bottles and if you liked it—I’ll buy some more.”
“Well, yeah…I did like it.”
“If I get more, will you help me drink it?”
He smiled. “Oh yeah—I’ll always help out with that, Mister Jones.”
“Alright,” I said, “I’m going to buy a case of it and you can start helping me with it tonight after work, okay?”
“Oh…sure, okay…It won’t be too late? I won’t be home til midnight.”
“No-no that’s fine—I’ll take a nap so I can keep up with you.”
“Oh, Johnny, you may as well start wearing those shorts, okay? We’re getting into the hottest and stickiest time of year and you might as well be comfortable, okay?”
He paused for a second then said: “Oh, okay…I’ll change when I get home before I come over.”
“Good. See you tonight,” I said.
When I got home I called Billy and told him what I wanted him to do.
Some of you may be wondering why Billy isn’t my live-in boy. Well, he’s a wonderful boy, and certainly knows how to sexually satisfy a man, but he’s too strong-willed and independent for my tastes. His heart really isn’t into his current lifestyle. If I hadn’t been blackmailing him, he would probably still be straight.
No, my dream is to own and possess a boy I love, and who loves me. I want a boy to be totally dependent on me for everything in his life. I want him to adore me—to worship me.
Johnny would be perfect for me. I was already developing a true affection for him. He is smart and pretty and fun to be with, and most importantly—my penis gets hard when he is close to me. It has been a long, long time since I felt this way with a boy.
It was midnight and I watched Johnny as he parked on the street and walked into the house next door. I was nervous—this was a crucial time in our relationship. Would he take my advice and change clothes and come over to my place, or would he decide this was too much for him—that he was crossing a boundary he was uncomfortable with?
My heart leapt with joy when I saw him walking towards my house. He was dressed in a tee shirt and the tiny gym shorts. I smiled as my penis stiffened.
“C’mon in,” I called out just before he knocked on the door.
The only light on the porch shone through the doorway leading to my living room. I doubt if he noticed I was wearing just my boxers.
I patted the seat next to me and said “Sit down” as I leaned over and pulled a chilled bottle of wine out of the ice bucket. I poured us both a full glass.
“How was work?” I asked him.
“Oh, the usual…pretty dull—doing the same thing over-and-over….”
“Yes, I’m afraid if you don’t go back to school that may be your future…you know, I might be able to help you out with school….”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
I could tell he was intrigued with my comment.
“All I’m saying is I might be able to help you with tuition—hey, aren’t you a little warm with that tee shirt on? Don’t be shy—I’m only wearing boxer shorts—I hope you don’t mind?”
“No, ah, that’s okay with me—it is still hot out here,” he said as he hesitantly removed his tee shirt.
He quickly drained his glass and as I was refilling it, I caught some movement from the street out of the corner of my eye. It must have been Billy.
“Why don’t we go inside,” I said then stood and walked into the house. He followed close behind me.
We discussed politics and sports. I enjoyed his knowledge of both topics, and especially his communication skills. He was an impressive teenager and my affection for him grew stronger.
I was pouring him his third glass of wine when I noticed he was staring at the magazine I’d strategically placed on the coffee table. It was titled “The Boys of Europe”.
“I have a weakness for the male body,” I laughed. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, ah…that’s okay,” he said.
I picked up the magazine and slowly began to thumb through it. I held it in front of us so he could get a clear view. Every page depicted young and good-looking boys in various sexual acts.
“I love looking at erect penises—don’t you? They are so erotic and beautiful—it makes me want to reach out and hold them—caress them,” I said.
Johnny didn’t say a word but he intently stared at every page. When we came to a photo that showed one boy standing with another boy on his knees sucking the boys penis I laid the magazine on the table and left it open to that page.
“Which boy would you rather be,” I said softly, “…the one standing, or the boy on his knees?”
I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I left Johnny on the couch staring at the photo.
When I was out of sight I peeked around the corner and watched Johnny’s reaction. His eyes never left the photo. I thought I noticed his breathing quicken. A film of sweat covered his face and chest. I was overjoyed.
I waited a few more seconds then sat beside him again.
“I should have taken a nap today—I’m tired—Johnny I hope you don’t mind but I better get some sleep.”
“I, ah—yeah, sure….” He mumbled like he was in a trance.
I picked up the magazine and gave it to him.
“Here—take this with you…”
“No-no, I don’t want—”
“Nonsense, ” I interrupted. “Just take it with you—end of discussion.”
I gave him his shirt. When we were standing on the porch I put my hands on his shoulders and massaged him.
“Johnny—your shoulders are tense,” I said as I continued to massage him. “Here…is this better?”
“Oh, Mister Jones—” he groaned.
“SShhhhh…” I said.
I wondered how long he would let me touch him. A full minute passed then I reached around and massaged his breasts—his nipples hardened. When I pinched his nipples he jumped and snapped out of his reverie.
“Oh God, I—I have to go…”
“I want to make you lunch tomorrow, okay,” I said.
He didn’t answer. “Johnny, come over at noon for lunch, okay?”
His voice was unsteady, quivering. “O-Okay,” he said as he quickly went outside into the humid night air.
I returned to the couch smiling. I poured myself one more glass of wine and sat back and basked in the glow of a successful evening.
When Billy saw Johnny go inside he came out of the shadows and into my house. I stripped off my boxers and lay full length on the couch. My prick was throbbing and my balls ached for release.
“Your mouth…” I told Billy, “…use your mouth.”
Billy dutifully knelt between my legs and sucked me to two explosive orgasms.
When Johnny arrived at noon the next day and saw me wearing only boxers he frowned but immediately stripped off his tee shirt.
“You look pretty silly with those on,” I said, pointing to his sneakers and white socks.
He sighed then removed his shoes and socks.
We ate a chicken salad I made from scratch. I gave him a huge portion and he ate it all. I loved gazing at his nearly naked body. His flesh was soft but firm and milky white. He had small blond tufts of hair under his arms with only a few blonde strands on his chest.
No matter, I thought. All of his body hair will be gone once he moves in with me.
At one point I inadvertently caught a glance under the leg-band of his tiny shorts.
“You know, Johnny,” I said, “you shouldn’t wear underwear with those shorts.”
“W-What do you mean?” he blushed.
“Because you won’t believe how good the nylon material feels against your skin,” I answered then I changed the subject.
Later, when I watched Johnny leave for work I went next door and entered his apartment using the key Floyd had given me.
I went straight to his bed and pulled back the bedspread. I chuckled to myself.
There were four dried cum stains on his sheet and one that was still damp. He’d jerked-off just before showering for work. I searched for and found the magazine under his mattress. I was very pleased with myself.
I had a leisurely afternoon and evening. Much of the time I was on the internet, but I also made sure I took a long nap—it was going to be a late night. From here on out they all would be.
At 11:30 I threw on a shirt, slacks and shoes. At 11:45 the phone rang.
“Mister Jones this is John—ah—Johnny—there’s something wrong with my car—it won’t start—it’s making funny noises—I don’t know what to do.”
“Johnny, calm down, I’ll get dressed and come down there, okay?”
“Oh God—great—thank you so much, Mister Jones.”
“Try to relax—I’ll take care of everything, okay?”
When I arrived at the grocery store Johnny was standing beside his car with such a forlorn look on his face it tugged at my heart-strings.
“I don’t know what happened—I don’t know much about cars but the engine sounded like it just died,” he said.
Of course it did, I thought. Sugar in the gasoline will kill an engine every time.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” I reassured him. “I’ll call my mechanic in the morning and he’ll find out what’s wrong with it.”
“Mister Jones…I don’t have the money to pay to get it fixed…”
“Johnny, I’ll take care of everything—leave it to me, okay?”
On the ride home I explained that I will take him to work, pick him up and take him anywhere else he needs to go until his car is repaired.
“Mister Jones—thank you so much—I really mean that.”
I thought I saw tears in his eyes.
I parked the car on the street instead of my back garage. I told him he could use a glass of wine to calm his nerves and he readily agreed.
“Should I change clothes first?” he asked.
“Yes—why don’t you, okay?”
I went into my bedroom and stripped to my boxers then into the kitchen and prepared an ice bucket. I opened the wine and carried everything into the living room. I was a little startled to see Johnny already sitting on the couch.
While I stood before him pouring wine I snuck a glance under a leg-band of his shorts—he wasn’t wearing underwear.
What a smart boy, I thought; a very good memory.
I sat beside him on the couch—our bare legs touching. He didn’t seem to think anything of it. After awhile I put my arm around him and squeezed his shoulder. He didn’t move.
He was still shaken from the car experience and I encouraged him to drink up that he’d feel better. By the time I finished my first glass of wine he’d had three.
I squeezed his shoulder again and said: “Johnny, you’re still tense—you need a massage.”
I stood and retrieved my ‘special’ massage table from the hallway closet and set it up in the living room. His eyes grew big.
“Ah, Mister Jones, I don’t know….”
“Don’t be silly—c’mon—stand up—come over here and lay on your stomach—I’m going to help you relax.”
I went to the kitchen and carried a large bowl filled with warm massage oil to the table. I coated my hands with oil and began massaging his back. He groaned.
“Oh, Mister Jones, that feels good…”
He was right, of course. I have become something of an expert masseur and I can guarantee there is nothing more sensual and exotic than a hot oil massage. He would never forget this night.
I worked the oil into his creamy flesh. He was soft to the touch and my cock stiffened in my boxers. He wouldn’t notice—he was face down and loving the feel of my strong hands.
Over and over I worked his back and shoulders then I moved down to his legs. I did his ankles and calves and when my hands stroked his thighs he cried out “Oh God” and tried to escape my kneading hands.
When he calmed, I stealthily hooked my fingers in the waistband of his shorts, and in one fell swoop, I yanked them down his legs and off.
“Mister Jones, what are you doing?” he exclaimed.
“Johnny, don’t be childish—I need to get at your sciatic nerve—I need to massage you all over.”
I poured oil on his buttocks and kneaded his flesh. Soon he began to moan again.
Now my massage table is ‘special’ because the lower half has actual ‘legs’ that come apart when I press the motorized button. I opened the ‘legs’ slightly and found the straps underneath.
“Johnny,” I explained, “I’m going to attach your ankles to the board so don’t panic, okay? If they’re not firmly attached to the table you might fall off. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mister Jones….”
When his ankles were firmly in place, I pressed the button and the legs extended out ward until Johnny’s legs were wide apart. He expressed his dismay but I quickly soothed his doubts.
Now I worked his buttocks and thighs in earnest. His legs supported the lower half of his body but his crotch area was completely exposed. His penis and balls hung unsupported. I looked and saw he had an erection. I oiled my hands and massaged his private parts—he squirmed and tried to avoid my contact but the straps held him in place.
“Johnny—stop moving—you’re making this difficult—do you trust me? Johnny, do you trust me?”
His voice was small, whimpering. “Y-Yes…I trust you—I trust you…”
“Good boy, lay still—let me make you feel good, okay? OKAY?”
“Okay,” he said barely audible.
With that I poured more oil on his bottom and my fingers worked it between his cheeks. He started when my finger first touched his anus.
“Relax…I want you to feel good…relax…relax…relax…”
My oily finger massaged him from his anus to his perineum and back. Back-and-forth…back-and-forth…back-and-forth….
I poured more oil between his cheeks and gently rubbed his anus. His hips began a slow movement. He wasn’t trying to escape my finger any longer—he rotated his hips with the movement of my finger.
Guttural moans came from deep within his throat. I poured more oil on my finger and pressed it against his anus.
I softly chanted, “Relax…relax…relax…relax….”
He barely noticed when my oily finger pushed through his anus. His hips jerked but he didn’t cry out. I poured more oil on my finger and pushed it further inside him. His groaning became louder.
I oiled my other hand and took hold of his erection.
“OH-GODDDDDD….” he cried out.
I stroked his cock while my finger pushed deeper-and-deeper into his asshole. Finally, my entire middle finger was inside him. I began to slowly finger-fuck his asshole as I stroked his cock.
His upper body writhed on the table as I jerked his cock faster-and-faster. My finger plowed in-and-out of his asshole. Both hands increased speed and tempo. Now his hips bucked wildly—his cock expanded in my hand—it was time—it was time—I pushed a second finger into his asshole and he cried out in ecstasy as his balls exploded—wave-after-wave of cum shot out of his pulsating cock. He screamed—his body shook—I milked his cock for every drop of cum he had.
He collapsed on the table. I released his softening cock and pulled my fingers out of his ass. He would never forget his first time with me—he would never forget how much pleasure I had given him.
“Oh God, Mister Jones…” he gasped.
I had placed a towel on the floor beneath him and there was an impressive pool of his cum on it. He reached for his shorts but I stopped him.
“You need a shower to wash the oil off you,” I said.
“Ah, yeah…sure,” he answered. He was still dazed and confused.
I led him through my bedroom to the master bathroom. He seemed oblivious to his nudity. When I stripped off my boxers and climbed into the tub with him I saw surprise on his face but he didn’t say anything.
When he stared at my seven-inch erection I asked him, “Do you like that, Johnny?”
His face flushed red and he stammered, “I, oh Mister Jones…I…”
“This is what you do to me, Johnny—you make my penis hard whenever you’re with me—you’re a very exciting boy.”
I soaped him all over and washed the oil off his tender flesh. I saw his cock twitch so I paid special attention to his crotch. He became hard again—I massaged his erection.
He didn’t know what to do or say. I handed him the soap.
“Johnny, will you do me a favor?” I asked softly.
“Ah…yeah….” he answered.
“Good boy…use the soap on me down there,” I told him as we looked at my hard-on.
“Mister Jones—please—I, ah—please don’t make me gay,” he whimpered.
“Johnny, quit being childish–I can’t make you ‘be’ anything you don’t want to ‘be’—I just want you to do me a favor—haven’t I treated you well?” I continued massaging his stiff prick. “Johnny, boys do this for each other all the time—we do each other ‘favors’—I’ll make you feel good, and you return the favor to me—that’s all—you understand that don’t you?”
“I guess so…” he said.
I took hold of his hand and placed it on my cock. He hesitated then wrapped his small hand around it, his fingers barely fit around the shaft. He imitated the movement of my hand on him.
He was a good student. When I stroked him faster he did the same to me. When I slowed the tempo he did, too.
“Johnny, your touch feels wonderful…keep going like that…I know it feels good in your hand…tell me how it feels in your hand. ”
“It’s so warm…it feels so smooth and warm…”
I could tell he was enjoying the feel of my cock in his hand. He squeezed it harder and stroked it faster. His face was flush with lust and desire—he was straining to cum—we both were. I reached down and fondled his balls.
“Johnny, rub my balls like I’m doing…”
This time he didn’t hesitate. He gasped when he felt the weight of my scrotum. My ball sac was very heavy in his hand. He massaged my balls. I was thrilled with the progress he was making.
Suddenly I felt his balls contract in my hand. I pushed the tip of my finger into his anus. He screamed and his hips jerked wildly. His grip tightened on my cock and we both shot our cum at the same time. We stroked each others’ cocks until our balls were empty.
I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss him, but it was too soon. I didn’t want to scare him with the intensity of my feelings for him. There would be plenty of time for that later.
We finished washing ourselves. Before he left I told him to come for lunch at eleven. He said “Okay.”
I drove him to work and picked him up that night. I didn’t ask him how it felt to have a man’s penis and balls in his hands. He was quiet and obviously wrestling with these issues. I had checked his bed and there was more dried cum stains. I hoped he was dreaming of my cock when he masturbated.
When Johnny changed into his shorts and walked into my living room, he didn’t seem fazed by the sight of the massage table already set up. As a matter-of-fact, I thought I detected a slight smile on his face.
As soon as he finished his third glass of wine I asked him if he would like a massage.
“Ah, yeah…sure, Mister Jones—if it’s no problem,” he answered.
I smiled and guided him to lie down on the table. I didn’t waste any time, I stripped his shorts off him—he lifted his hips to help get them off. I fastened his ankles and spread the legs of the table as far apart as they would go.
I covered him in oil and went to work. By the time I pushed my oily finger into his anus he was moaning with lust. I finger-fucked him a minute or so then coated a hard rubber tube with oil.
The tube was six-inches long and an inch around. When I pushed the tip into his asshole he groaned and tried to pull away. I pinched his bottom-cheek hard.
He accepted the entire length of the tube. I began to fuck him with it. His tiny cock trembled in my hand as I stroked him. I brought him to the edge of orgasm then pulled his balls back in his sac denying his climax—he whimpered in frustration.
Then I fucked him hard and fast. His head rolled from side-to-side—he pushed his hips back to meet the thrusting dildo. A constant stream of unintelligible sounds and noises escaped his lips. He was lost in the ass-fucking. This time I allowed him to cum. His cries of joy were loud as his body shook violently and his cum formed a large pool on the towel beneath him.
I released him from the table and guided him back to the couch—we sat on another towel I had already spread out. I stripped off my boxers and placed his hand on my cock. He instinctively knew what to do.
I put my arm around him and held him tight while he stroked my cock. I repeated to him “You’re a good boy, Johnny—you’re a good boy.”
I guided his other hand to my scrotum. He never hesitated—he cradled my balls in his hand. I sat back and enjoyed the hand-job. I kissed his forehead and whispered “You’re a wonderful boy—you’re a wonderful boy.”
His eyes were glassy and fixated on my cock. When I saw his penis twitch I stroked his thigh until he was completely hard again.
“Johnny, play with your cock while you stroke me—I want to watch you masturbate.”
“Oh God…” he whispered, but did as he was told.
I sat back again and gloated at what I had him doing. He was lost in a fog of pure lust and desire—he couldn’t help himself. I fought to control my own orgasm—I wanted to time mine with his.
His hands moved faster—he squeezed my cock harder. He was breathing through his mouth—gasping for air. Sweat formed on his face and chest. Then his hands became a blur.
I felt the pressure building in my balls. He was grunting and groaning as he strained to make us both cum. I couldn’t hold back any longer—my balls exploded and my cum shot straight in the air. That set-off Johnny and he screamed as he shot another huge load. His body shook and gyrated. He stroked my penis until I pushed his hand away.
He collapsed against me and I held him close.
“You’re such a good boy—you’re a good boy, Johnny.”
The next day I had Johnny come over early. We spent the whole morning and afternoon together. We surfed the internet, talked and laughed. I fell in love with him—he was everything I had been searching for—I wanted him to feel the same way.
Just before he had to get ready for work I asked him if he wanted a massage.
“Oh-God-yes, Mister Jones.”
I had him go home and bring back his work clothes. When he saw the massage table he took off his shorts on his own and climbed on the table. My heart was filled with happiness.
I used the dildo on him again—he loved it. He pushed hard against it trying to get all of it inside him. This was the first time we did this without alcohol—I wanted to make it good for him. He was an expressive boy—his shyness was gone. He moaned loudly and cried out as his cum exploded from his balls.
We took a shower together. I had him stand behind me. He reached around me and stroked my cock. I had him massage my balls with his other hand. He was into it now—I was getting ready to cum when I felt his hard cock against me—he was excited again and it thrilled me.
After I climaxed I squeezed his stiff cock and told him he needed to get dressed for work. He whimpered in frustration. When I told him I would give him a special treat after work—his eyes lit up.
While Johnny was working I tried everything to make the time go faster—it didn’t work. My penis was stiff with anticipation the whole night. It took every ounce of self-control I had to stop from calling Billy to relieve me.
On the ride home I had Johnny sit beside me. He didn’t hesitate. I stroked his thigh and from time-to-time squeezed his prick through his slacks. He was excited, too.
I parked the car in the garage in back of the house. I told Johnny he didn’t need to change into his shorts. The massage table was already set-up and when I stripped to my shorts I went to the kitchen and brought back the wine.
Johnny gave me a pleasant surprise: He had taken off his clothes and sat on the couch wearing only his black bikini briefs. God, how he looked sexy!
I sat beside him; we talked as he drank three glasses of wine to my one glass. I had my arm around him and stroked his warm flesh—his skin was as soft as a girls.
I stroked his thighs and massaged his breasts and nipples. His cock pushed hard against the front of his briefs.
“Would you like a massage?” I smiled.
“Oh, God yes,” he answered. He sprang up from the couch, peeled off his shorts and laid down on the table.
I covered him in oil and lovingly kneaded his flesh. When I began oiling his anus he groaned and pushed back against my probing finger. My finger slid easily into his asshole and I finger-fucked him until there was no resistance. I pulled out my finger and immediately pushed the dildo inside him—he cried out with pleasure.
I stood directly behind him—his wide-split thighs on either side of me. I used the dildo for a few minutes and when he began wriggling against it I withdrew the dildo—pushed the head of my cock against his hole then slowly pushed the entire length of my stiff prick into his clasping asshole.
“OH-GOD-OH-GOD-OH-GOD….” He screamed.
I held him in place and buried my cock to the hilt. I stopped and allowed him to get accustomed to my size. I was happy and proud that he didn’t beg me to stop. I had conditioned him well.
My balls were already aching for release so I knew this first fuck wouldn’t take long. I gave him six hard thrusts then I filled his asshole with my pent-up lust. I held him still—my cock stayed hard and impaled his deliciously tight rectum.
When I regained my breath and strength I sawed in-and-out of him with long, steady strokes. The walls of his asshole excited my cock so much that I soon found myself thrusting harder-and-harder. I grabbed hold of his throbbing cock and stroked him in time with my thrusts.
He began to babble incoherently—each thrust bringing an “OHHH” or “AHHH” from his lips. He was loving it–he loved getting fucked in the ass. A wave of happiness swept over me and I fucked him fast and hard.
I felt the familiar pressure in my balls and knew I was about to cum. I stroked his cock faster—I fucked him harder. When his cock started spewing cum he screamed louder than he ever had before—I shouted my ecstasy and filled his asshole with another load of jism.
I leaned forward and fell onto his back. I could feel both of our hearts racing. I lay on top of him until our breathing returned to normal. My limp prick slid out of his hole. My cum poured out of his asshole onto the towel below.
I helped him to his feet and led him to the shower. He was unsteady—his eyes were glazed-over. I washed and dried both of us. He didn’t say a word; his body was trembling. We sat naked on the couch.
I caressed his hair and face. We looked into each others’ eyes—I kissed him on the lips. He eagerly kissed me back. I stroked his soft flesh.
Suddenly, he regained his composure. A look of horror and panic spread across his pretty face.
“Mister Jones, I…I need to go home.”
He jumped from the couch and pulled on his slacks; he scooped up his remaining clothes and scampered out the front door. I sat back and pondered the situation. I smiled.
He had obviously loved the feel of my cock in his ass and it scared the hell out of him. The next few hours were going to be the most difficult for him. His mind was going to tell him he wasn’t queer, but his heart was telling him a different story.
I would try to ‘seal the deal’ in the next few days.
I tried to make everything as normal as possible the next day. When he reluctantly agreed to come for lunch I saw him breathe a sigh of relief when he didn’t see the massage table set-up.
In the middle of lunch he received a phone call from work: the usual supply truck had broken down, they didn’t need him at work for the next three days. I secretly celebrated—this would accelerate my plan.
Since it was a payday for him I told him I’d take him to get his paycheck. He opened up a bit and we talked and laughed again. We ‘surfed the net’ all afternoon. I asked him if he wanted to go and see the greyhound races that night. His face brightened at the prospect.
We picked up his check and he cashed it. Then I took him to dinner. We feasted on steak and lobster. He loved it. Since he was underage, I couldn’t buy him alcohol.
Afterwards I saw a liquor store and bought a bottle of wine. I drove to the dog track and we sat in the car and drank the wine straight from the bottle. Actually, I had very little of it—he polished off almost the entire bottle. He was a little tipsy when we went inside.
I studied his betting tendencies. He was as reckless with his betting as he was with his drinking. That was a predictable pattern for an ‘addictive personality’. He was broke after the seventh race.
The look of shock and terror on his face was hard to take. I knew he felt scared and alone. I leaned over and whispered in his ear.
“Johnny, I know it’s tough but try and calm down…it’s not the end of the world…if you want, I’ll loan you a hundred dollars.”
His eyes lit up. “I can’t take money from you—I don’t know when I could ever re-pay it.”
“Well,” I whispered, “I’ll make a deal with you…if you can pay me back before we leave here—that will be great…if you can’t we can make other arrangements…”
“W-What kind of ‘arrangements’?”
I smiled and said, “I think you know how I feel about you—I would love for us to get closer…I think you also know what I’d like from you—I’ll loan you a hundred dollars and if you can’t pay me back in full by the time we leave here—you’ll spend the next two days in my bed—doing whatever I tell you—think about it, okay”
The look of panic returned to his face. He was quiet for a long time. He watched as I won $280 on the eighth race. Five minutes before the ninth race he began fidgeting. I knew there was a battle raging in his mind. He studied the racing form—you could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.
Two minutes to post and he leaned over and said, “Okay…can I borrow the money?”
“Yes—if you make a promise to me.”
“W-What promise?” he stammered.
“Promise me you’ll take my hard penis in your mouth and let me teach you how to suck it.”
His eyes flew wide open—his face turned redder than I’d seen it. He sat back in his seat—he didn’t ask for the money. We watched the race—he showed me his numbers—he would have won $140.
He shook his head in disbelief. He went back to studying the racing form. He scribbled some numbers on his program then leaned over to me.
“Mister Jones, may I borrow the hundred dollars?”
“Promise me what I want to hear,” I smiled at him.
His face turned red again as he whispered in my ear.
“I promise I’ll suck your penis for you…”
I gave him the hundred and he ran off to place his bets. The sense of satisfaction I felt overwhelmed me. My cock began to twitch inside my slacks.
He lost forty dollars on the race—he had sixty left with two races to go. He won the next race but he’d bet forty dollars and only got back forty-five. He had sixty-five to bet on the last race. He bet it all.
We watched and screamed for his dogs in the last race. It was a close finish–a photo-finish. While we waited for the tote board to flash the winning numbers I saw he was perspiring. If his numbers came up it would mean a big payday for his tickets. If not, it would be the culmination of all my efforts.
The numbers flashed on the board–he lost—the painful expression on his face almost broke my heart.
I commiserated with him. I told him he got a bad break. There was no point in rubbing his face in the sheer joy I felt.
We walked to the car in silence. Once inside I had him sit next to me. I put my arm around him and pulled him close. I kissed him on the lips—he was tense.
“Are you going to make me gay now?” he asked in a small voice,
Yes I am, I thought to myself. He was half-way there already. He enjoyed playing with my cock and he had the best orgasm of his life when I fucked him. All I had to do now was to open his eyes to his true desires.
“Johnny, no one can ‘make you gay’…you either have it inside you or you don’t…I want you to think back to the past couple of nights…tell me if I’m wrong, but I think you enjoyed everything we did together—am I right or am I wrong?”
I waited but he didn’t say anything. I kissed him again. This time he kissed me back. I took his hand and placed it on my raging erection. I moved his hand back and forth on the hardness. When I let go he continued squeezing my cock. He slowly stroked my cock all the way home. When we got out of the car my balls ached but my mind was singing. This boy was pure gold.
I held his hand as we walked into the house; there was no need to have him change clothes now—he wouldn’t be wearing any clothes very soon. I poured us each a glass of wine and we sat on the couch. I removed my shoes and socks and he followed my example. What a smart boy.
No words were spoken. We exchanged sideway glances as we drank the wine. His beautiful blue eyes made my heart flutter. I kissed him on the cheek and placed our empty glasses on the table. He smiled at me as I took him in my arms.
There was no resistance–he was willing and eager. We kissed; his lips were moist and sweet—soft, so very soft. Our tongues met; electricity coursed through my body. I stood and offered my hand. He held it tightly as I led him to my bedroom.
I turned on the lamp with the red light bulb; the room seethed with raw sexuality. We stood beside the big bed; I pulled him close and hugged him tightly; he threw his arms around me and our lips came together. Our tongues became one.
I slowly unbuttoned his shirt then slid it over his milky-white shoulders and it fell to the floor. I opened his slacks then pushed them to the floor. His little penis was hard—it strained against the front of his briefs. I was thrilled he had an erection—he wanted this as much as I did. I caressed his member through his briefs eliciting a soft moan from his lips.
My hand slid inside his briefs and gently took hold of his erection. His cock pulsated in my stroking hand. His breathing quickened—I could feel his heart pounding against my chest. Our kisses grew more urgent.
I pushed his briefs down his slender legs. His erection sprang into view—it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I stroked it—I squeezed it. His cock-flesh was soft and warm. His penis throbbed to my touches.
I pulled the bedspread all the way down and had him lie on his back. I stared down at him as I undressed—his eyes never left mine. When I was naked I climbed onto the bed. When he saw my intent was to lie on top of him he spread his legs wide apart for me–I thought, my God, what a special boy.
I eased my weight onto him; his hands and arms went around me, he held me tight and caressed my back and shoulders. I held his head still and pressed my lips to his. Our kisses were unhurried, rich with passion.
I felt the pre-cum leaking from my cock-slit. His hand teasing me on the ride home and now this—lying naked with the boy I loved—I needed release–my balls would soon burst and I knew it was time for him to taste my desire for him.
With my knees on either side of him I straddled his chest. I moved forward until my erection was an inch from his parted lips. His eyes glazed-over as they fixed on my cock. He took a deep breath and without prompting from me he craned his head forward and kissed my cockhead.
I gazed down in awe at this beautiful boy as he covered my penis with kisses. When he pressed his tongue against my flesh and lapped up my pre-cum a thrill shot up-and-down my spine. His eyes stared at my cock the whole time.
I decided not to say a word—I wanted him to find his own way—I wanted Johnny to discover for himself his natural inclinations.
He worked his hands free from under my legs, and took hold of the base of my cock and cradled my balls. I watched him close his eyes, moisten his lips then slide those sexy, pouty lips over my cockhead. We both groaned at the same time.
His tongue lathered my flesh—his tongue never lost contact with my cock. I had to close my eyes and fight from cumming too soon. I wanted him to earn my juice.
I pushed my cock further into his mouth until he gagged then I pulled back. I desperately wanted to fuck his mouth but I wanted to see what his thought process was. Would he move his head back-and-forth over my flesh or would he just rest his head on the pillow and wait for me to slide my cock in-and-out of his mouth?
I didn’t have to wait long. He began to stroke my cock and fondle my balls as he worked his mouth back-and-forth over my throbbing cock. He took the initiative himself and decided to make me cum—his hands, lips and tongue worked together; perfectly synchronized movements designed to give me the greatest pleasure. This boy was far advanced beyond his life experiences.
When non-stop moans escaped my lips he worked harder and faster on my cock. He stroked my cock and sucked the glans like he was on a mission. His hand became a blur on my shaft.
Suddenly, his finger pressed and rubbed my anus and the sensation made my balls contract and explode shooting load-after-load of hot cum into his mouth. He swallowed as much as he could, but I soon saw tiny rivulets of semen oozing out of both corners of his mouth. His tongue worked non-stop scooping up my cum.
When my orgasm subsided, by chance, I looked around and saw him trying to take hold of his own cock. I pushed his hand away and stroked his throbbing member. His cock erupted spewing cum over my back and his thighs.
“Oh God, Mister Jones….” he cried out.
I leaned forward and kissed his cum-slick lips.
“My name is David—call me David.”
We cleaned ourselves and walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen where I poured more wine for us. We settled on the living room couch—still naked.
He was quiet; pensive. Something was troubling him and I ventured a guess as to what it was.
“You loved having my penis in your mouth, didn’t you?”
He blushed and sighed.
“I-I don’t know what came over me,” he said softly, “…I never felt like that before…”
“It was exciting, wasn’t it?” I asked.
“Yes…” he answered, barely audible.
“In the next couple days you’re going to do things you’ve never dreamed of doing…all I ask is to obey me and keep an open mind…I’m going to teach you things that will bring us both great pleasure…will you go along with me? Will you obey me?”
“Yes…” he said, “I made a promise—I’ll do whatever you want.”
We finished the wine and I pulled him to me. I had him sit on my lap. We kissed and caressed each other. I stroked his chest and thighs and he achieved another erection. I played with his hard cock. He reached down between us and fondled my prick and ball sac—soon I was hard, too.
“Let’s go to bed,” I whispered.
He smiled and we walked into the bedroom.
We lay side-by-side stroking and caressing each others’ cock and balls in the glow of the red light. He was a quick learner—I taught him how I liked to be touched. When I felt we were both ready I told him to lie back and pull his knees to his chest. He obeyed.
“Pull your knees wide apart,” I instructed.
He sighed as he felt the rush of air on his exposed anus. I took the bottle of oil off the nightstand and coated my middle finger. I rubbed my finger over and around his puckered hole. I applied more oil and gently pushed my finger inside him. I worked my finger in and out of him, coating it with more and more oil.
Soon my finger was buried in his rectum to the knuckle. His eyes were closed and his moans of “OOO” and “AARRGGG” filled the room. My prick began to throb—it was time to give Johnny the fucking of his young life.
I was on my knees between his legs. I took hold of his ankles and placed them over my shoulders. His moans grew louder. I rubbed my cockhead against his defenseless anus. I leaned forward until the mushroom head popped through his opening. I rested a few seconds then slowly, but relentlessly, impaled him with the entire length of my cock.
“OH-GOD—OH-GOD…” he cried out.
“Relax…relax…relax…” I pinched his bottom so he would loosen his sphincter.
I braced my hands on either side of his head then readied myself. I was going to give this sweet boy a good, old-fashioned-ass-fucking he’d never forget.
I was gentle at first. My hips slowly pushed my cock into him and just as slowly pulled it out to the tip. I used a steady rhythm so he could get accustomed to it. After several soft thrusts, I pulled out to the tip then plunged down hard.
“AAARRRGGGGHHHHH…” he yelled in surprise.
“Wrap your legs around my back,” I ordered. He obeyed.
I was merciless. I roughly buried my cock to the hilt and pulled back immediately and thrust it back into him. His head rolled from side-to-side, a thin stream of saliva ran out of the corner of his mouth. A constant flow of deep, guttural groans came from his open mouth. I felt his hard prick jerking and twitching against my belly.
“FUCK BACK—FUCK BACK,” I shouted,
He obeyed me. I felt his legs pull me deeper inside him. He was delirious now. It was a fast and furious rough fuck that I loved to give my boys. The walls of his tight asshole clung to my cock on every thrust shooting jolts of ecstasy throughout my body.
Then suddenly one of the thrusts sent my cock far enough inside him to bump against his prostate. He screamed louder than I’d ever heard and his cock sprayed cum on my stomach and thighs—he was pinned beneath me and his wildly gyrating pelvis and hips spurred me to fuck him harder-and-harder until I shouted my climax and filled his asshole with stream-after-stream of cum.
I collapsed on top of him and he held me tightly.
“Oh-my-God—oh-my-God—oh-my-God…I love you, David—I love you.”
I held his head and gazed into his eyes with wonder and amazement.
“I love you, too, sweetie—I love you too.”
We fell asleep in each others’ arms.
I awoke to the surprise of my life. Johnny was kneeling between my legs, his head bobbing furiously up-and-down on my morning hard-on. His tongue was magnificent. He swallowed my entire load.
“Good morning, sweetie,” I said. He smiled up at me.
The rest of that weekend was one big sex buffet. He sucked me off in every room of the house and I rewarded him by filling his asshole with cum. He loved that—his cock had intense orgasms without even being touched.
We lay in bed on the final night after an especially delicious fuck; his head resting on my chest.
“Sweetie, I’d like for you to move in with me…” I said.
I felt him tense. “David…I don’t know…I love you but I don’t want to rely on you for everything…”
“I understand,” is all I said.
There was one more, unpleasant but necessary, thing to do. I made a phone call.
I drove Johnny to work the next day. About two-hours into his shift he called me. It sounded like he was on the verge of crying.
“David—David what happened? How did all these people find out? They’re calling me filthy names—Billy came in here and told everyone what a great lover I was—HE SAID I WAS HIS GIRLFRIEND—why did he do that? They’re all calling me ‘queer’ and ‘faggot’—I can’t take this!”
“Johnny—Johnny, RELAX–calm down—get out of there–I’m coming to pick you up, okay? I’ll be right there.”
“Billy must be jealous of you,” I explained to him on the ride home. “He’s jealous of the way I feel for you—I’m sorry—don’t worry about a thing—I’ll take care of you.”
“How can I find another job? Nobody is hiring now—what am I going to do? OH GOD—my parents can’t find out about this—they just can’t!”
“Sweetie, no one will know, okay? I’ll take care of everything…Sweetie, do you trust me?”
“Well, yeah—of course.”
“Then don’t worry about a thing, okay?”
Johnny moved in with me the next day. He is now totally dependent on me for food, shelter, his orgasms—everything!
I will train him to be the boy I always wanted and I guarantee he will love it.
He will forgive Billy, as a-matter-of-fact, I will insist he gets closer to Billy than he could imagine right now.
I sat back on the bed and waited for Johnny to kneel between my legs. I love it when a plan comes together.