I've had my eye on this new journal sitting on the corner of my desk for months now, almost taunting me to pull it forward and spill my guts out all over the blank pages between the hard covers, but I'm not quite ready. I don't buy expensive journals, so I stock pile them to save for when it's time to start a new one, or if I feel I have something that needs to be said.
The rush I get when I open a fresh journal sends a pulse of energy through me each and every damn time. Hearing the crackle sound of the spine giving way when the covers are spread open and the scent of the unused pages as it hits my nostrils are an aphrodisiac to me. Does that sound weird? It might be, but I'm an author and that's what we do. Stuff like that gets our juices flowing. Some people need alcohol or drugs to get this kind of a high. All I need is a new journal and a pen.
Maybe it's presumptuous to be calling myself an author, since I haven't yet sold anything beyond a couple of short stories to a few college focused magazines. The Agent says that if I keep referring to myself as an author it will make me one. I'm not even sure I understand that phrase, never mind believe it. He swears he'll get me a book contract soon, that based on the sci-fi manuscript I sent to him I have more talent than most of his clients combined. In the beginning I wondered if he was saying that shit to get into my pants. Truth is, I would have let him do that regardless of him even wanting to represent me. I guess that makes me desperate for the touch of someone else's hands on me, or shameless to get my stories into print. Whatever. I'm okay with either option. I never thought I'd have a literary agent and that alone makes me feel like a hot shit.
No doubt about it, my life is changing – evolving. Maybe that's a better word to use. Ever since The Agent pushed his way into my life, colors are brighter and food tastes better on my tongue. I'm not delusional to think there are feelings with this man. He's just a man – a much older man, who has made it his mission to expose me to . . . things, broaden my horizon as he says. After this, I'll probably end up having daddy issues, with all my future lovers being more experienced like he is, but so what. It's been a helluva ride – both literally and figuratively, and it's not close to being over yet. At least I don't want it to be. He keeps telling me about all the things he wants to teach me, and I'm okay with whatever he has in store. In fact, I can't wait.
I was at The Agent's house again last night. It's becoming more and more of the norm for me to be there and then crawl back to my own apartment at dawn. Things are starting to change between us, for the better, I guess. It's like our roles are being defined and the kink level is inching up the scale, too. I want to learn and The Agent seems like he's going to be the perfect teacher for me, so it's all good. I think you know I'm not talking about the publishing world. I'm talking about sex, because right now, my horny self is all about getting straight A's with the sex lessons.
Maybe I should call him Teacher instead of Agent? LOL. Every time I see him the foreplay gets more intense and it's so fucking hot. He seemed even more engaged with what we're doing after I told him I'd never been with anyone before him. Now he wants me all the time. Sometimes he calls me during the day and we jerk-off over the phone. He loves knowing all my firsts are with him. It makes me wonder how good he'll treat me once I finally let him fuck me. I can't wait for that to happen, but The Agent isn't in a hurry to get there. The stuff he's teaching me now is crazy good. My cock is throbbing now as I write this journal entry and I'm stroking myself using my left hand just so I can continue to write. I'll probably end up shooting all over my desk before I finish with this entry, too. Pretty twisted, but that's what this guy does to me.
I'd never sucked a dick before his – hell, I told you I hadn't done much of anything with anyone until him, so having him direct me on how to pleasure him while on my knees gave me such a buzz. It made me feel dirty and slutty – in a good way, and I can't seem to get enough. Thankfully, he lets me suck him all the time. We have a thing now that as soon as I get inside his house he directs me to my knees so I can take him into my mouth. He gets off on the control, but judging by the expression he has on his face when he's in my mouth makes me believe I'm the one with the power at that point. The dynamic works for us, so who am I to argue? I'm just a hormonal punk learning the fine art of giving head from a sexy older man who's had more than his fair share of blowjobs. Hearing him give me praise for that is like a symphony to my ears.
What can I say about giving head? Turns out, a lot, considering this entry for today is largely one long, detailed account of my newfound love of sucking dick. LOL. The sensation of having a cock moving in and out of my mouth, the salty-sweet flavor of his pre-come coating my tongue, and the scent of his skin and balls have me overwhelmed with stimulation every time my face gets close to his groin. I'm close to coming just from inhaling him and this is usually even before he's had a chance to touch me – which he always does, but not until after he has his first orgasm. Tonight I sucked and licked him for a solid hour, edging him – which is a new term and skill I learned from him, before he finally came in my mouth. He warned me ahead of time, told me he was going to shoot a lot, but I still wasn't prepared for the geyser he blasted down my throat. I swallowed what I could before I started to choke and he pulled out and finished shooting all over my chin and throat. I didn't even have a chance to wipe off my face before he had me on my back in the center of his bed and his mouth wrapped around my cock. He worked on my dick for less than five minutes before he had me in a state of no return and I came without any warning at all. I'd barely had time for my brain to keep up with the stimulation of his mouth and skilled tongue, so how could I possibly find the proper words to articulate what he was doing to me was pushing me dangerously close to losing my load? I was horrified at my lack of self-control and I can still hear his scolding in my head. “Looks like your next lesson is going to be a little cock and ball torture.”
God, I hope that isn't as bad as it sounds, but The Agent hasn't ever done anything close to causing me pain. With him it's always been about exquisite pleasure. No, the lesson he has planned for me has everything to do with my lack of self-control due to my poor exhibit. I know that, and I probably I deserve it, too. If I'm going to keep up with this much more experienced man, I'm going to have to learn how to edge myself. I'm so hard right now as I write this, I'm going to “practice” the art of edging as soon as I finish this entry. Maybe next time I see him I'll be able to hold off for six minutes instead of five! LOL.
Today is Saturday which means I was able to see The Agent all afternoon and he even had me stay and have dinner with him. He doesn't take me out places, like on a real date, and sometimes that makes me feel like I'm his “secret” or a toy only worthy of using in private. I'd be lying if I didn't admit I wanted to be more than that to someone, but what twenty year old is going to turn down hot sex on a regular basis with someone who knows what the fuck they're actually doing? Certainly not me. To say I was a late bloomer is an understatement, but The Agent has helped me make up for lost time, and then some.
I told you, he was gentle and kind when I admitted I was a virgin. He loved the fact I was “untouched” before him, in fact, he seemed to get off on that fact. After he knew this about me, he took great delight in orchestrating elaborate first experiences for me to have. He said by giving that to me he was also reliving his own “firsts” and it was very exciting for him as well. Every time we've been together there's been another sex lesson – at least, that's how he refers to them. I'm not sure I see it that way. To me, it's just one hot encounter after another, sometimes much more than once a night.
Tonight was like that. I'd already given him my usual blowjob at the door upon my arrival and he'd stroked me to the edge of insanity before he finally allowed me to unload all over his hand. That release alone had me in a lazy state of mind where I could have slept the rest of the night, but The Agent had other ideas. After we ate dinner he suggested we walk the several blocks down to the public park which surrounds a man-made lake and has walking paths around it. He explained that this was a popular hook-up place for gays. To me it looked more like an opening to a bad horror movie, but I trusted The Agent and walked closely beside him on the poorly lit pathways. We'd passed a few benches along the way and a few picnic tables which I imagined might be a nice place to have lunch during the day. I couldn't see much of the lake due to a moonless sky and low lighting on the path, but I could smell the earthy scent to it and hear what sounded like a fountain bubbling in the center of the water.
We'd already done a full loop around the lake through the darkened groves of trees and shrubbery and had gone over an arched bridge, too, and hadn't yet seen another person. Halfway around the second time we did see a man dressed in dark clothing approaching us from the opposite direction. He stopped walking when he saw us and I did my best to keep the panic from rising inside of me. I had no idea what The Agent had planned for us – or with this man. I looked up at him for direction and he simply nodded at me, then leaned back against a thick tree at the edge of the path.
“Get on your knees,” The Agent ordered me.
I remember how my eyes flew wide at his suggestion and the nervous glance over my shoulder that I gave to the stranger standing roughly twenty to thirty feet away. “Here?” I stupidly asked. God, how could I be so naïve!
The Agent didn't respond with words. He simply held my gaze while he undid the belt buckle and the zipper of his pants. I knew further explanation to what was expected of me was not going to happen, so I complied to his wishes and did so with the full knowledge the man behind us was watching everything I did to The Agent. Every lick and suck I gave to The Agent's cock was followed by moans made in unison coming from the stranger and also The Agent, almost like I was hearing the sound through stereo speakers. I made a couple of attempts to turn around to look at the shadow of the man lurking, but The Agent used his hand to keep my head in place and my mouth working on his shaft. But I wanted to see the other guy and persisted until I'd managed to pull off of The Agent and turn enough to view the man jerking on his own erection. My visual was short-lived because soon The Agent had himself buried inside of my mouth again.
“Can I borrow him?” the man asked.
“I don't share my toys,” The Agent bit out. Hearing him use the word “toy” stung a bit but I also loved the fact I was his. For some stupid reason, that made me feel special.
He came a few seconds later and I swallowed and gulped everything he gave to me until he was spent. I leaned back on my haunches and looked up at him. I felt pretty damn proud of my efforts, and judging by the load he blasted down my throat, I think he was happy, too. Wordlessly, The Agent pulled me up by the armpits, then he spun me around to face the man who'd been watching us.
The Agent undid my pants and pulled out my cock, then proceeded to use his fist to get me off. The stranger began to match The Agent stoke for stroke on himself and we ended up releasing almost at the same time in one mind-blowing orgasm. I watched his spunk splatter against the pavement of the walkway not far from my own and a weird sensation made my stomach flutter.
I'd never done anything like this and wasn't sure how I felt about what happened. Even now, hours after the fact, I am still wondering how this event plays into my personal tastes. It obviously pleased The Agent. He wanted to talk about it all the way back to his house while I walked along beside him basically silent. He kept asking me questions about if I liked being watched or getting off like that in public. Truth was, my brain was still trying to process it all. This was almost too much for me to wrap my brain around, and yet, I had to admit the idea of doing it again intrigued me.
The Agent pushed my boundaries in the park like he had in weeks past, but this time it felt different. More heightened maybe because of being out in the open? For him, having complete dominance over me like that seemed to be his thing – his kink. He fed of of it, loved that someone else wanted to use his “toy”. All of it gave him the power he craved.
Control.
It was a simple word, but the weight behind it could steal my breath when he decided to put it on display, like a teacher might do to command his classroom. Except the classroom he ruled had just one student and that was me. He thrives on being in control at all times when we're together. From the moment I enter his house, I belong to him and he makes damn sure I understand that, each and every time. I wasn't sure I'd like that at first, but over time, I've realized I'm kind of a slut for it. I seem to feed off the attention he gives to me while he's in that head space. The changes I see taking place inside myself scare me a little. Who knew I had this side to my personality? Then again, who thought I'd ever be involved in a kink-based relationship with an older guy?
He keeps talking about a sex club he wants to take me to. He says it's a special ''members only” kind of establishment for gay men to safely play. Apparently, my reaction to what happened in the park the other night made him feel I'd be open to explore this exhibitionist side of myself more. To prove his point, he took me for a ride in his very expensive car; a Jaguar, with buttery soft leather seats and that “new car” scent lingered inside like he'd just driven the car off the dealership lot that afternoon. I had no idea what he had planned. The fact he had me with him was all I needed these days. He was fast becoming my only source of socialization. When I wasn't with him, I wanted to be, and I'd watch the clock relentlessly while I waited for our next hook-up.
We drove around town for about fifteen minutes in an area I wasn't familiar with at all. Before long we rolled up to a stop light and I tried to take in my surroundings. I felt his hand at my nape begin to massage the tight cords of muscle. The force of his grip gradually became more until I finally glanced across the front seat at him. He had that hungry look again and I knew he was up to something. Cars pulled up on both sides of his car at a traffic light and that's when I felt the tug of his hand on my neck.
“Undo my pants,” he ordered in that gruff tone I'd come to know so well.
I didn't hesitate for more than a second before my fingers went to work. He'd already manged to have everything loosened for me, so it made the task easier to do. As soon as I had my fingers inside the waistband of his brief, his next instruction followed. I knew what it would be before he uttered the words and had begun to move my head in the direction of his lap.
“That's it,” he praised with a quick sift of his fingers through the hair on the top of my head. “Suck my cock like it's your last meal, my good boy.”
His dirty talk probably should have repulsed me or made me feel cheap, but it only served to rev up my libido. One of the biggest lessons he'd taught me so far was that I loved being treated like this as much as he got off on the power of having me under his command. The master needed a pliant servant and the servant needed someone to knee to and I was only too happy to kneel at his feet. That made our twisted union completely understandable and because of that, it worked. We worked.
Sucking his cock in the car as we continued to drive around was a rush. I edged him for quite a while and then he had me pull into a busy parking lot of a department store where he parked directly under a light pole. This made it possible for anyone walking by the car to see my head bobbing on his dick like a champ. Still he held off coming until he was once again stopped at a red light with traffic all around. He got the attention of the two men sitting in the car stopped beside us and, with the window down on his side, he announced his release with a throaty growl.
The blowjob on the road tonight made me completely forget about my wish that this might be our first official date when we left in his car. But, thinking about it now as I write this entry, why would a refined man of his age want to be seen out with a kid like me? Anyone who saw us together would probably suspect I was his rent boy and maybe on some level, that's exactly what I was.
To me, he was first a Svengali, but he was also my mentor and a motivator to help me hone my craft of writing a better story. Although to be honest, every time I saw him we spent less and less time actually talking about the publishing world. These days, our time together consisted of him nurturing my advancing repertoire of sexual skills, which wasn't exactly a bad way to spend an evening, but it wasn't how our relationship had started or the purpose behind it. He was my literary agent and I was pretty sure that job title didn't come with the benefits he was enjoying courtesy of me. I had no doubts that when my time with him was over (I wasn't delusional to think it wouldn't end. I knew there was an expiration date for us.), I'd be able to please a man in a wide variety of ways that would leave him breathless and speaking in tongues.
Do you think I can list these special skills on a resume?
If you enjoyed this sneak peek of Tessler's journal, then you won't want to miss the full-length version releasing soon and titled The Black Key Journal.