Edgartown, FLA Ch. 01

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Edgartown, FLA Ch. 01

by BJ Michaels

I don’t know why I said what I said and did what I did. I had never done anything like that in my life until last night. No, really….

The first beer went down so easily I had another one and then another. Beer seems to go right thru me so I hurried to drain the lizard. I’m taking a leak in the nasty smelling men’s room when this big, fortyish-looking guy, dressed in a nice, black suit comes in and stands directly beside me.

The men’s room had one of those metal troughs instead of individual urinals but there was plenty of room for him to stand a few feet away from me but he stood right next to me. Anyway, aside from being a little annoyed, I didn’t think much of his rudeness because I had to go so bad and it felt great to get rid of the beer.

Now those metal troughs can be a little noisy and my steady stream seemed pretty darn loud but when this guy starts pissing — good gawd – it sounded like a driving rain storm on a cheap tin roof. Jesus Christ, it was loud!

Now I’ve never had the inclination to check out guys pissing next to me in men’s rooms — no way — I always keep my eyes glued to the wall straight ahead of me, but this time I couldn’t help myself — what kind of serpent did this guy have that was making such a racket?

Without moving my head, I was able to see his dick in my peripheral vision. HUH? What the hell is THAT? I was so shocked at what I saw my eyes lingered on it longer than I intended. I mean, holy crap, his damn dick had to be eight-nine inches long and it wasn’t even hard. The damn thing looked like a fire hose!

Well, the man in black must have caught me looking because I heard him say, “Do you want to feel it, boy?”

Now I’ve been propositioned by fags before and I generally shrug it off and tell ’em “No thanks” or if they’re persistent I say “Fuck off” but for some reason when he asked me “Do you want to feel it, boy?” the first words out of my mouth were “Not in here.”

I was about to correct myself and say “No thanks” but wasn’t quick enough.

He said, “Yeah, you cute little queerboys just can’t resist a real man, can you?”

I cringed at the word ‘queerboy’ but thought it nice he thinks I’m cute.

“I’m gonna make your dream come true, kid, and let you play with it out back in my car…now, you be a good little boy and go back and finish your beer – I wanna couple drinks before you give me a handjob…I’ll be sitting at the end of the bar and you watch me until I give you a signal…I’ll nod my head when I’m ready to take you outside — wait until I’m out the door before you follow me…I’ll open the back door of my car and you’ll climb inside…when I get inside I’ll take out my dick and I’ll let you play with it all you want — would you like that, boy? Now go wash your hands and wait for me at the bar!”

I was dumbfounded. I was done pissing but stood frozen in place with my dick still in hand.

“Quit embarrassing yourself and put that tiny thing away – go wash your hands and wait for me at the bar!” he snapped at me.

I must be dreaming, I thought, this can’t be real!

I washed my hands in a daze. No man had ever talked to me like that in my life. Shouldn’t I be madder than hell?

I heard him call out, “Hey kid, take another look at it before you leave!”

He’d turned slightly towards me and there it was — it looked like one of those fake logs you throw in the fireplace in the winter.

“Wait ‘ll you feel my balls, kid,” he said with a taunting smirk on his worn, scraggly face, “they’re the size of Granny Smith apples!”


I walked towards the front door of the bar to get out of there but suddenly stopped and thought, ‘Who the hell does he think he is? Don’t let him intimidate you, John…he can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do…just calm down and go finish your beer!’

I took a deep gulp of air and returned to my bar stool. When I picked up the beer bottle my hand was shaking. I took a deep swallow and immediately felt better.

My body flinched when I saw the man in black sit on a stool at the end of the bar. My heart began pounding.

An image of his horse-cock was burned into my memory. How can he walk around with that thing? I wondered…and balls the size of Granny Smith apples? That’s ridiculous! I tried to picture which ones were Granny Smith apples?

He called out to the bartender but I kept my eyes straight ahead. Thirty-seconds later the bartender placed a lowball glass in front of me filled with a clear liquid.

The man leaned in and softly said, “He bought you Peppermint Schnapps — he says he wants your breath minty fresh when you kiss him!”

I don’t think my face had ever turned that shade of red before. I stammered, “I-I-I’m not kissing a MAN!”

The bartender frowned and whispered, “I know you’re not from around here but don’t you know who he is, kid? Haven’t you ever heard of Edgar Bronstein? He’s the richest businessman in town — one of the richest guys canlı bahis in the whole state!”

“Well, yeah, I’ve heard of him,” I said. “What’s a guy like him doing in a dive bar like this?”

“Haven’t you heard the rumors about him?” he asked me.

“No, what rumors?” I asked the bartender.

His eyes bugged wide open. “Do you live under a rock, boy? Everybody knows Edgar Bronstein’s a fag — it’s the worst kept secret in town!”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” I whispered

“He comes in here once in a while trolling for little cuties like you,” said the bartender.

‘Little cuties like me?’ Is the only bar in this tiny town a queer bar?

The bartender winked at me and said, “You’re a very, very lucky boy — Mr. Bronstein is extremely picky when it comes to the boys he takes outside…you know what, kid?”

“What? I automatically asked.

“Mr. Bronstein is v-e-r-y generous to the boys who put out for him!” he softly said.

“Yeah, but I’m not gay,” I softly said.

“He doesn’t give a rats-ass if a boy is queer or not — all he wants is to get his rocks off,” said the bartender.

“But I’m NOT gay,” I repeated.

He ignored me and leaned in real close and very softly whispered, “You know the other rumor about him?”

“What?” I asked just as softly.

“They say he’s hung like a donkey,” whispered the bartender.

From what I saw in the men’s room I was thinking a horse would be the more appropriate animal.

He added: “They say it’s so huge the only thing he has pretty boys do for him is jerk him off…you’re having car problems, right? Imagine getting a new car just for jerking some guys dick! Goddamn, you pretty boys have it made!”

“How do you know I’m having car troubles?” I asked him.

He paused for an instant then asked me, “Aren’t you the new kid Merle hired at the Shop N Go?”

“Yeah….” I said.

The smile returned to his face as he said, “This a very small town, boy…everybody knows everybody else’s business here…”

“I believe it,” I replied.

“In fact, Jessie, the mechanic working on your car was in here tonight…he softly said. “I hate to be the one to break the news to you, kid, but your engine is shot — Jessie said it would cost more than the car is worth to fix it!”

My heart sank. Damn, now what do I do?

“You know, boy, by now everyone in town knows about your car…” said the bartender.

“What good does that do me?” I asked him.

He lowered his voice again and whispered, “If everyone knows about your car it means Mr. Bronstein knows about it, too!”

“So?” I asked.

“So if he wants you to go outside with him you better jump at the chance…you do what the man wants and you just might drive out of this town in a nice car — maybe even a brand-spanking new car!”

That made absolutely no sense to me.

We suddenly heard Mister Bronstein call out: “Barkeep, another round for me and my little cutie over there!”

Did he just call me ‘his’ little cutie?

The bartender snapped to attention and almost shouted, “Yes sir, coming right up, sir!”

Before he left to make the drinks he winked at me and whispered, “He likes to be called ‘sir’…when you’re in his back seat with him always call him ‘sir’!”

I said, “Okay” even though I had no intention of jerking-off some rich guy to maybe get a car.

My alter ego argued, John, you’d be crazy not to do it! What difference does it make? You don’t know anyone in this shithole town — what do you have to lose?

I looked around the bar and saw it was just me, the bartender and Mr. Bronstein. I asked myself how many times has an opportunity like this ever come up and the answer was NEVER!

The bartender placed another full glass of chilled Schnapps in front of me, but I hesitated to drink it.

He leaned in close with an expression of thoughtful compassion on his leathery old face and said, “You know, kid, chances like this don’t come around very often in life — especially in this town. Let me tell you, I missed a couple opportunities I had when I was your age and look at me now — I’m schlepping drinks in this rathole and regretting my life every single day!”

I heard Mister Bronstein clear his throat and looked to see him lift his glass and drink the clear liquid in one, huge swallow.

The bartender whispered, “He’s getting ready to leave, boy, if you want to get on his good side you better drink up, too.”

And so I did.

When I finished the Schnapps I turned just in time to see Mister Bronstein nod at me then climb off his bar stool and walk towards the door.

The bartender whispered, “Here’s your chance to make something of yourself, kid, just follow him and get into the back of his limo with him!”

“He has a limousine?” I naively blurted out.

The bartender snapped, “Of course he does, kid, he’s Edgar Bronstein, the richest man in town — now go and get into his limo with him before he changes his mind!”


The alcohol had a calming affect on me. bahis siteleri I wasn’t walking steady but I wasn’t nervous either when I saw Mr. Bronstein holding open the back door of a huge black limousine. I took one last deep gulp of air before I climbed into the back seat.

When he was beside me and closed the door, I expected to be in darkness but the dome light stayed on.

He must have read my mind. “Don’t worry, kid, I’ll turn out the light after I get a good look at you in your undies.”

Mr. Bronstein sat there looking at me expectantly. I began to have second thoughts about my crazy decision to be with him and sat frozen in place. I thought: ‘Really John? It’s come down to this? You’re acting like a whore — have you no shame?’

He frowned at me and said, “I don’t have all night, boy! My driver’s gonna be back here in half-an-hour…let’s go, boy — get those clothes off — shoes and socks too!”

I don’t know what it is about me and alpha males. They seem so confident and sure of themselves they intimidate me. It’s like I don’t have a mind of my own. I want important men to like me so I become this meek and passive sycophant.

Naturally I did what he wanted and was soon sitting beside him in my briefs. The dome light seemed awfully harsh — it was almost like a spotlight on my nearly naked body.

I liked it when he smiled as he brazenly looked me up-and-down. To me that meant he approved not only of my body, but of me as a person, as well.

I was feeling okay with the situation until he snidely said, “Cute little panties, boy!” and then I got defensive.

“No-no-no, they’re not panties — they’re cotton, string bikini briefs — I buy them in the men’s department at Dullard’s!” I protested.

He snickered and glibly said, “Whatever kid….”

His comment made me mad but I said nothing. Maybe he took my silence as consent because he suddenly began to run his hand over my thighs and when he said, “Spread ’em” I opened my legs wider for him.

His hand felt good on my inner thighs – too good — I sprung a boner which caused him to chuckle again and make another derisive remark.

“Yeah, I was right — you’re too pretty to be straight — you’re a little homo slut, aren’t you boy?”

“Noooooo, I’m not gay!” I protested.

“Whatever kid….” he mumbled as he began undoing his belt buckle.

A cold chill raced up my spine when I heard him lower his zipper. He was about to show me that monster he has between his legs and I cursed myself when I felt my hard prick twitch and jump inside my undies.

What the hell is wrong with me? I wondered.

He took it out of his pants and there it was again — oh my gawd, it was sooo long and sooo thick it didn’t even look real.

He pushed his slacks and boxers to his knees and brusquely said, “Whaddya wait ‘in for kid? Get those hands of yours busy — get my dick nice and hard and just maybe I’ll let you kiss it!”

I was so mesmerized by that enormous slab of beef between his legs I let his “maybe I’ll let you kiss it” remark go unchallenged.

Okay John, you can do this, I told myself. What do you care what these people think? You gotta do whatever it takes to get the hell out of this godforsaken town!

I took a deep gulp of air and placed my small hand on his huge dick. Oh my God it was hot!

“Rub it boy…yessss, that’s good…keep rubbing it….” he sighed.

I remembered what the bartender told me and meekly said, “Yes, sir.”

I’ll never forget the rush of excitement that surged throughout my body as I stroked his flaccid penis into a gigantic hard-on. My pulse rate quickened. My heart pounded so fiercely I swore I could hear it. I stared at his manly cock jutting straight up from his crotch and actually experienced a rush of pride like it was a major accomplishment on my part to make it hard.

“See if you can wrap your hand around it, boy,” said Mr. Bronstein.

“Yes, sir,” I breathlessly sighed.

Ohhh-myyyy…it was so huge my fingers couldn’t reach all the way around, and the heat coming from it sent fireworks shooting off in my head.

“Rub my balls with your other hand, boy!” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” I said and did as I was told.

MY GAWD — he didn’t exaggerate when he said they were the size of apples! How could he walk around with that huge equipment hanging between his legs?

I felt his hand on the back of my head gently pulling me towards his face.

“Give your sugar-daddy a sweet kiss, boy,” he said softly and before I knew what was happening I was kissing a man.

My first instinct was to pull away but he wouldn’t let me. I suddenly felt his tongue darting in-and-out of my mouth. When he released his grip on me I was out of breath and my prick was throbbing so hard I thought I was going to cum inside my briefs.

“Enough foreplay, boy,” he suddenly announced as he finally turned off the dome light.

I felt his hand on the back of my head again and he began pushing it down to his crotch.

Alarm bells went off bahis şirketleri in my head. Nooooooo, this wasn’t part of the deal….

In the darkness, I felt the heat from his cock on my face.

“I got bad news for you, kid, Eddie at the shop said your cars a goner — you blew a johnson rod or somethin’ like that — but I’ll tell you what — I got a two-year old Camry I’ll GIVE you if you suck me off and let me cum in your mouth…whaddya say boy?”

Ewwww, that’s disgusting — that was the last thing I wanted to do! My heart pounded harder than before. I gave my predicament another thought and told myself, Who’s gonna know? Besides, I’ll never see any of these people again after I get out of town in my new Camry!

I sighed and lowered my head to his crotch. It was like I was in a trance as I wet my lips then slid them over the huge knob of his monster cock.


When the spurting finally subsided, he had me lick-up the sperm and semen on his velvety cockhead. My face was dripping wet from the nasty jizz I hadn’t been able to swallow in time.

When I finished cleaning his dick he opened the car door and just before he climbed out he turned the dome light back on.

My first thought was ‘Why does he have all my clothes in his arms?’

“That wasn’t too bad for your first time, kid, you’ll get better with more practice…you can start by doing Ernie, too — I always tip my bartenders well, hahaha…tell you what kid — I got a two-year old Toyota Camry that’s all yours if you swallow every drop of his spunk! Have fun, boy!”

I heard his words but couldn’t believe he was serious until the old bartender climbed into the backseat with me. He had been undoing his slacks while getting in the car and just before he settled in, he pushed his pants and boxers down to his knees exposing his hard cock to my uncomprehending eyes.

This isn’t right — what’s going on here? I wondered.

He shot my crotch a quick glance, laughed and said, “Looks like you already shot a load in your little panties, boy!”

Huh? What? I looked down at my briefs and saw a huge wet spot. I hadn’t ‘shot a load’ but I sure had leaked a lot of pre-cum.

“Get going, boy, Mr. Bronstein’s a busy man — wrap those pretty lips around my dick and start sucking!”

I couldn’t move. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He became annoyed and said, “If you don’t start sucking, I’ll tell him not to give you that car! Now do you want the dome light on or off, boy?”

Every ounce of hope and defiance in me disappeared. I heard myself answer, “Off please” and soon found myself in the dark bobbing my head up-and-down my second hard cock of the night..


It’s just a dream, John, I told myself. It’s only a bad dream!

At one point in my dream I thought I heard a pounding on the car window and Mr. Bronstein yelling, “Hurry up in there! I’m gonna be late!”

That was when the old bartender gripped my hair and began pulling my head up-and-down faster and harder on his rigid cock. I gagged a couple times and prayed the ordeal would be over with very soon.

And what do you know? My prayer was answered when I felt the first blast of hot cum fill my mouth.

He called out “SWALLOW BOY — SWALLOW IT ALL” and I obeyed him not because he commanded me to, no, I swallowed spurt-after-spurt of his slimy jizz out of fear I would choke to death on it!

When his body finally came to rest he roughly yanked at my hair forcing my head off his crotch. I could hear him in the dark raising his zipper and fastening his belt.

He opened the car door, climbed outside and said to Mr. Bronstein, “You’re right — he learns quickly — that boys gonna be a good one!”

I searched for my clothes but suddenly remembered Mr. Bronstein had taken them.

I heard him scream, “GET OUTTA THERE, BOY!” and his tone of voice scared me so I quickly found myself standing in the parking lot wearing only my briefs. I saw the bartender holding my clothes.

Mr. Bronstein casually opened the trunk and pulled out some sort of cap. When he fixed it on his head I looked at him in his black suit and black cap and thought it looked like some sort of uniform.

He said to the bartender, “I gotta get going — if I’m late the old man docks my pay!” and he climbed into the drivers seat of the limo, started the car and sped away.

I stared dumbfounded as the limo pulled out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to believe what I was thinking and said out loud: “Mr. Bronstein drives his own limousine?”

The bartender snickered and said, “That wasn’t Mr. Bronstein, you simpleton, you sucked-off his chauffeur, hahahahahahaha….”

I numbly looked at him and said, “My clothes, please — give me my clothes!”

His smile vanished. His beady eyes narrowed as he hissed, “I’m not done with you yet, boy, you’re gonna suck my dick until daybreak — then I’ll give you your clothes – come on, boy, follow me inside,” and he began walking towards the bar.

I petulantly whined, “I’m NOT going inside with YOU!”

He stopped, turned around and said, “That’s up to you, boy, but I better warn you an army of mosquitoes will be coming this way from the swamp real soon and they’re gonna be awfully thirsty when they get here!”

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