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anā€™ kickinā€™.  But he couldnā€™t do much; each time he got too crazy, I just squeezed his dick hard, like I was gonna tear it off, anā€™ heā€™d freeze anā€™ let me keep goinā€™.  A couple times he tried to crush me with his legs, but he couldnā€™t get any leverage anā€™ besides, I was too solid built for that to work.  I kept pumpinā€™.  Anā€™ pumpinā€™.  Anā€™ pumpinā€™.  Then just as I was figurinā€™ heā€™s never gonna blow anā€™ I should just let myself finish, he began to buck anā€™ gasp.  Anā€™ his ass clinched so tight around my dick, I couldnā€™t wait anymore; I plowed deep into him anā€™ let loose.

Man...it was scary how good it felt.  Just like when I did it the first time to that rich pansy punkā€™s ass.  Carter kept fightinā€™ me the whole time, even as I kept plowinā€™ my load into him, anā€™ that made it so...much...better.  But it wasnā€™t till I was done anā€™ had pulled out that I realized heā€™d cum, too.  Not much.  Just a dribble of sticky stuff leakinā€™ from his dick.  But it was enough for me to smear his face with anā€™ tell him, ā€œThatā€™s your cum, bitch.ā€

He gagged anā€™ balled up into this little knot anā€™ started sobbinā€™ as he tried to hide his face anā€™ his dick from me.  I cut free his hands anā€™ stood up, even though I was still weak in the knees.  He whipped his arms around to cover himself, still sobbinā€™.  I watched him...anā€™ I felt this really weird urge.  This oneā€™d been so fuckinā€™ good, I knew I couldā€™ve done it, again, if Iā€™d wanted to.  Put him on his belly, this time.  Just do it for me anā€™ fuck even tryinā€™ to get him off.  I really thought about it, but then I figured, naw, itā€™d be too much like sex.

I grabbed the torn boxers anā€™ used ā€˜em to wipe off with.  Then I tucked ā€˜em into my pants -- to throw away later; donā€™t want to leave evidence like that behind -- pulled on my tee-shirt anā€™ walked away.  Didnā€™t say a word, just left him there.  If he said anything, I could say heā€™d made me fuck him.  Thatā€™s why he was pullinā€™ all his shit -- to scare me into givinā€™ him my dick.  Anā€™ I had lots of witnesses to back up how hard heā€™d been on me.  At best, itā€™d be his word against mine, even with the bruises on his wrists.  But I knew he wouldnā€™t tell nobody.  He was too fuckinā€™ ashamed of whatā€™d happened.

Anā€™ sure enough, he left me alone, after that.  Anā€™ I made parole, a week later.

Anā€™ here I was, about to do the same thing, again.  I was almost sick from excitement.

Lenny mustā€™ve checked those fuckinā€™ cameras a hundred times before the doorbell rang.  They were both the same model anā€™ put out a great picture so long as the lights were right.  Oh, anā€™ he made sure every light in the room was on, this time, ā€œjust to be sure.ā€

The plan was simple -- Lennyā€™d let the stud in, make sure the guy knew he was there for sex, then Iā€™d pop out of the kitchen anā€™ grab him.  The rest was up to me, but I didnā€™t expect too much trouble.  Even if he knew karate or some shit, I could get control before he knew what was happeninā€™.  So when the bell rang, we were ready.

  I slipped into the kitchen anā€™ got the straps ready anā€™ peeked out to watch.  The front door was in plain sight.  Lenny hit the cameraā€™s record button anā€™ ā€œstrolledā€ over to the door.  He opened it anā€™ stepped back, breathing hard.  Whether it was from excitement or fear, I dunno.  I heard the guy say, ā€œLenny?ā€ anā€™ Lenny answered, ā€œJeremy?  Yeah, come on in.ā€

The guy that entered was probably one of Lennyā€™s anā€™ Wayneā€™s wet dreams.  Anā€™ he looked familiar.  He was taller than me anā€™ maybe older by a couple of years -- college stud, my ass.  He had broad shoulders, dark hair cut short anā€™ neat, anā€™ wore a white cotton shirt anā€™ tight Leviā€™s with a black belt anā€™ black loafers.  Hair on his arms anā€™ chest peeked out from under the shirt -- not too much, but enough to make him seem like a guy instead of a boy.  But swimmerā€™s build?  My ass; he wasnā€™t that slim.  Or broad shouldered.  But he did look like the poster queen for Gay America.  Probably a ā€œgay for payā€ closet case.  Shit, how hard could it be?  Pun intended.

But what was best is, he did look a lot like Anthony.  His face wasnā€™t as round or as Italian.  Anā€™ his jaw was stronger.  Cleaner.  But I could make it work.  But then I remembered someone elseā€™d reminded me of that little fuck, anā€™ thatā€™s when it hit me -- ā€œJeremyā€ looked exactly like that guy in ā€œPsycho.ā€  Thā€™ one in the hotel room at the beginninā€™, who Janet Leigh steals the cash for.  Connie took me to see it just after we met.  It started out slow as shit, but things picked up in that motel, boy did they.  Got me hot as shit for Janet, lemme tell ya.  Anyhow, that character was so neat anā€™ clean anā€™ looked so much like a cop, all I could think about when he was on-screen was how much Iā€™d like to smash his squeaky-pretty little face in.  Now it looked like I was gonna get that chance.

Jeremy looked around anā€™ said, ā€œNice place.ā€

Lenny twittered -- swear to God -- as he said, ā€œThanks.  You want something to drink?  Beer, wine, coke, whiskey?ā€

ā€œDepends on what youā€™re after,ā€ Jeremy said, keepinā€™ just out of Lennyā€™s reach.  Somethinā€™ about that set off alarms in my brain.  I donā€™t know shit about guys who always go to

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