Making Him Earn It Pt 1 & 2

I was tired of guys thinking they had the upper hand just because I was on the bottom so after breaking up with my boyfriend of two years I decided from then on I would play hard to get, after all I was the one with the talent in need.

Guys said they knew me just because of the way I act and it was true I played into some stereotypes just to get what I wanted but it was never forced. It was an exaggeration. I had always been the sissy, the weakling, and the runt. Men wanted to try and dominate me my entire life, straight and gay, but I have some drive in me, some spark, hah flame, that endured a hell of a lot more than any of them could. They were the fragile ones. They liked to wrestle with me, pull off my clothes, and try to humiliate me but it never kept me down. I didn’t learn to live with it. I pushed through it.

So when Troy approached me at the bar I had his number right away. He was broad shouldered and a good eight inches taller than me making him about six-foot-four. I had never dated or fucked someone that tall before and I had an impression from pornography that guys that big also had big dicks. I got a chubby just from considering if it was big enough to wrap both of my hands around it at the same time but I told myself I had to ignore that thought he was mine after all. He was the one who needed me.

I could tell right away he was on the hunt for anyone of us at the table possibly and my friends could have had them if they could get him, normally I would have competed in the most direct actions but I forced myself to play it cool. I looked away from him as he started to talk, not rude, but preoccupied because the others would be polite, fight for his attention. I checked my phone, looked through the dancers and the crowd for other familiar faces, and even drained my drink before considering another one all the while listening to find out any personal details he offered.

He said he was in technology sales so I figured that meant cell phones or computers. I didn’t know that meant large scale. He was living in the gayborhood but he traveled a lot. He liked drag queens but could never imagine dating someone in a dress. He was hitting on everyone else but me though I could tell I had his attention by not giving him my attention.

One by one nearly everyone else got him out to the dance floor and through my brief observations I saw each of them was desperately grinding against him and he was amused. I had no way of knowing if my ruse was working as well as I wanted it to work and I tried to prepare myself if it didn’t.

I was on my second martini when he came back to the table in tow from one of the other boys who let go of him and dashed off to get a drink. He stopped next to me and started a conversation as if we had been talking the whole time. I was tempted to give him attitude but didn’t.

Instead I joined the conversation as if we had been talking the whole time and it was easy. Sometimes conversation just is, especially with the right people. It felt like we were old friends and fell into a habit of speaking, listening, and then speaking again until he motioned to the dancefloor. I’m not one to dance. Sometimes I feel like I am making a fool of myself. Sometimes I am making a fool of myself especially if I had one too many drinks.

This time I let him lead me out there and we started slow. I wasn’t going to throw myself at him. At first it was just fingers brushing against each other’s bodies then it wa hands and I knew he wanted more but I decided to up the stakes.

I was going to get him to do the one thing he probably didn’t usually do, at least not in a casual club like this, not when he was hunting and there were so many prey. He would have been the one to get us to do it but I felt emboldened by my own self-denial. I pulled him into me and spoke into his ear.

“Take your shirt off,” I said.

He pulled back and shook his head before he tried to reach for me again. He was going for my shirt. I knew it by the look in his eyes. Power games. He thought if he got me out there, if he got me dancing, then if I flirted with him he was going to get me to be the first one. Then he’d take me back to the table like some conquered prize.

No, I told myself, and then I pushed away from him and continued to dance. He came after me again and I decided to show him I wasn’t the desperate one. In fact there were plenty others who would have me. I spotted a guy nearby, a beefcake who was dancing with a slender young man like myself. Maybe I could have them both.

The beefcake looked back and in turn got his partner’s attention until all four of us were in a staring contest. I signaled that I was open to a three-way, hell maybe even a four-way, but Troy wasn’t having it and decided to break us away from them. He was trying when I told him again what he had to do.

He wanted me. So he did it. He took off his shirt to reveal a large, muscled body. I was still looking back over him at the beefcake when he tucked his shirt in his back pocket and moved his hips so that I could make out the band of his underwear and the v from his waist down under his jeans. He had gotten me away from the couple but I decided he was still far from getting me into bed.

We danced for some time. He started to grind on me and I started to play with his chest. We were sweaty and horny. I decided to break our reverie and led him back to the table where we stopped just long enough for me to check-in with my friends and let them know I was leaving with the hunter.

Thankfully as we were headed out he told me he had driven and that we could go back to his place because his roommate wouldn’t be there. I got into the passenger seat of his Audi and looked across at him still shirtless as he drove. I loved seeing his muscles in the partial light as they flexed with such mundane actions. I thought about giving him road-head but decided that was the previous me. No, I had been playing hard to get so far so I was going to make him work for it.

Back at his place, a small house in suburbia, we weren’t even the door completely before he turned on me and grabbed at my clothes. We kissed and it was perfect. Our warm tongues slid around each other as our hands pulled and gripped at each other’s clothing and skin. I went for his nipples and tweaked them, rubbed at them until they were hard and pointed.

He pulled at my shirt until it was up over my head then off, breaking contact with his nipples and our mouths only momentarily. He pushed the door shut and led me into his bedroom as we stripped off our clothes along the way until we were both down to our underwear.

I closed the bedroom door after me and was back at him. I pushed against his body until he was on his back on the bed and I was on top. He looked up at me and smiled.

“You’re one hot little fucker,” he said.

“That’s not the best of it,” I said.

He reached for my sides and I let him grip me for a moment before I pulled his hands away and pinned him to the bed and kissed him deeply. Our crotches rubbed together and I could tell even through the fabric that he was big.

I wanted him. But would this be my moment of truth? Would I lose my smooth, calm act? We rubbed cocks together and kissed as I thought about the next step. I felt wetness in his underwear and mine but I knew he hadn’t orgasmed so it was pre-come. I could have pulled his cock out, slipped onto it, and rode him but I thought of my boyfriend and everyone’s comments.

I pulled myself from his lips.

He tried to keep connected to me and for a moment I felt hot breath on my face and the shift of weight as he pushed up from the bed. He wanted me. But what was he willing to do to get it?

I pushed against him gently until he was on his back again and stopped rubbing into him. I sat there for a moment as if I had conquered him but the truth is we had done so little. We hadn’t done it. We hadn’t fucked.

Our breathing had both slowed as I tried to think of my next move.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I lied.

“Let’s fuck,” he said. He pushed up again but this time I knew he wanted to take something. He wanted to take me. Pull me down and kiss me.

“Hold on,” I said stopping him.

“Are you a virgin? I thought at the club you were acting suspicious.”

“I’m not,” I said. I needed time. “It’s just I didn’t plan on doing this. I need to shower and get cleaned up.”

“I’ll change the sheets. Come on, I’m about to lose control here.”

I smiled at his insistence. I reached out for his muscled chest and felt the roundness of his pectoral muscles. I moved a little on his cock and he moaned. I found his nipples and worked them until they were pointed and stiff, pulled at them.

He leaned forward and we kissed again, our cocks bent against our stomachs. I wanted him and he wanted me but I wanted to keep control. I pushed against him until he was on his back and I was an inch from his body. I hovered over him feeling the heat of his skin.

“Are you any good at taking care of yourself?”

“You’re going to leave me like this?”

“No,” I said, “I just don’t want you to lose interest and go soft on me.”

“What are you going to do?”

I pushed off the bed and tried to orient myself because I was in a stranger’s bedroom. I saw the doorway we where we entered. I saw another door but it had to be the closet. Then another doorway where the door was partially closed.

Out of habit I slid my feet because I usually left dirty clothes on the floor but there was nothing in my way. He’s tidy, I thought, good. I made my way into the bathroom and found the light switch and turned on the light but the sudden illumination blinded me so I turned it off, counted to three with my eyes closed and turned it on again.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just one hand,” I said. “If you come before I get back you’re going to be disappointed.”

I closed the door and looked around. Everything in there was clean and I suddenly realized he must have a maid who comes at least a few times a week because no guy keeps the place clean on his own.

I wanted to tie him down. I wanted to gag him. I wanted to sit on him and fuck him until his eyes rolled back into his head.

There was nothing in here to do that, I thought. Until I spotted the laundry basket. I went to it and looked inside. It was full of dirty clothes. I pushed aside the shirt on top and began to rummage through his dirty laundry. If I could find the right pair of briefs then maybe I could tie him down.

Better, my heart skipped a beat, I found a jock strap, two in fact, though one was dirtier than the other so I put that one back. I set it on the counter and looked at myself in the mirror. What streak had possessed me? I thought of him out there in his bed alone. He might have lost control.

I opened the door a crack and told him to be patient then closed the door. First I wiped at myself with toilet paper but then I was feeling dry and scratchy so I looked for a wash rag. I didn’t have time for a shower. It was the sheets or the rag. I decided on the latter so I grabbed one from a pile of clean ones at the bottom of a stand. I wet it then began to wash at my ass, down into my crack, and at my hole. As I loosened up I felt my own cock stiffening until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I threw the rag in the trash, picked up his jock, and opened the bedroom door. We were both partially illuminated in the light and I liked the way it cast into his bedroom so I decided to leave it on as I made my way to his bed.

He was still on his back and toying with himself through his underwear. I asked him where he kept the lubricant and condoms. He told me in his bedside stand like most every gay man I knew including myself. It meant he fucked regularly.

There was the thought again that I was just another notch on his bedpost but I pushed it aside. We were here. We would do this.

I got onto the bed and moved up his body until I was over his crotch again but this time in my hand was his jockstrap. I gripped at his sides, pulled his hands from his body, up above his head, I worked the jock around his wrists until I felt like he couldn’t free himself.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Shh, if you don’t stay quiet I’ll have to gag you with your underwear.”

I ran my fingers down his arms to his armpits where I felt him squirm at my touch. I massaged the area until he relaxed and then ran my fingers to his chest and down his sides across each bone of his ribcage.

“I’m going to fuck you,” I said.

“Wait, I thought-”

“Shh,” I said.

I maneuvered my ass cheeks over his cock and slid along it making him moan. It had been long enough. We had both suffered too long. I retrieved the condoms and lubricant then slid down his body where I pulled off his underwear then tossed it up near his head thinking I really might use it to gag him if he got too loud, neighbors and such.

His cock stuck up into the air with a slight bend back to his belly button. I gripped it with one hand and squeezed. His balls were tight, the head engourged. I knew I could lose him if I wasn’t careful. I let go and opened the condom packet, found the reservoir tip in the light from the bathroom then touched the ring around the sides of the head. I rolled the sheath down over the shaft and gripped it again.

I opened the bottle of lubricant and squirted some into my hand then worked his cock and some between my cheeks. I was ready.

I positioned myself just above his cock then slid back on it slowly until I got stuck then I pulled off and pushed back on again a second and third time until finally I sunk down to his balls. His arms and hands sprung from the bed and for a moment I thought I would grab at me until I remembered that his wrists had been tied together. I ducked under his hands and let them settle over my shoulders. I could feel him pull at the back of my neck with the jockstrap binding. I moved down to kiss him as I worked myself on his slippery, covered cock.

Our lips parted.

“Oh fuck,” he said.

“That’s right, let yourself go,” I said.

I had always practiced my control. Squeeze then relief, move then stop, up then wait, down and hold. He began to moan and pant louder with each maneuver. I played with my own cock feeling that with each stroke I was adding extra friction when I slid.

I grabbed at his sweaty chest, his muscled arms with my free hand. This man who I had gotten shirtless on the dancefloor for me was mine.

“I’m gonna come,” he said.

“Wait,” I said.

“I can’t.”

He began to yell out.

“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come. Oh fuck!”

I reached for his underwear, found them by one little bit, and picked them up, balled them in my hand and moved them to his mouth where I stuffed them inside.

His cries partially muffled I decided to finish him off. My own cock was throbbing and I didn’t know how much more I could last.

I sped up, pounded against his balls, and he raised himself from the bed trying to match me. Then he thrust up one last time and let out a final moan. I was close so I decided to let loose. We would need new sheets anyway. I sprayed over his chest and up onto his face hitting his chin. I let out a laugh and I could tell he wanted to as well but couldn’t so I pulled out the gag.

I pulled myself from his cock then sat on it as I teased the last sensations from myself.

“You were good,” I said.

“Fuck,” he replied.

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