“Otto is filthy rich,” Jake declared, tossing back the dregs of his beer. He was a powerful hulk of a man with a shaved head and tattoes. “The old bastard made a fortune in the printing business. It’s time we paid him a visit.”

Duffy’s Bar was packed with the usual crowd. And on the stage a sinewy Adonis strutted his stuff in a G-string, his bronze skin glistening with sweat.

“What do you have in mind, Jake?” Vinny stammered. He was a timid little runt with the paleness of an albino. “Are we gonna smack him?”

“Naw, we’re gonna serenade him,” Jake snapped back angrily.

“Sorry Jake,” Vinny muttered through nicotine stained teeth. “I just meant are we gonna break into his joint when he’s not there, or give him the gears when he is…you know?”

Jake shot him a look that would have shriveled steel while ordering another round. “And how the fuck are we gonna get in?” he demanded furiously. “The place is barred up like a fortress and wired with alarms.”

Vinny cupped his fresh drink between trembling hands. “You’re right, Jake, I’m real sorry, I spoke without thinking.”

“You always do, and that’s you’re fuckin problem. You’re a regular pain in the butt and no mistake.”

“Sorry, Jake, it won’t happen again. I’m gonna work on that, I truly am.”

But his apology was falling on deaf ears. For Jake was now ogling the exotic dancer, who had just shed his G-string, with an intensity that obliterated all else. “God, is he ever fuckin hung,” he murmured lasciviously.

Vinny swivelled around and eyed the dancer with pale eyes smouldering with jealousy.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Jake ordered, swinging himself off the stool and heading towards the artist’s changing rooms at the back of the stage.

Otto was a stooped matchstick of a man with watery eyes and thin lips. “Ah that feels good keep goin,” he muttered to Vinny, grasping his head with gnarled fingers. While his long thin cock banged away in the younger man’s accommodating mouth.

Vinny was getting tired and his jaw ached. It took Otto a long time to cum and to speed up the process he inched his pinkie into his anus.

“Oh gawd, that’s good…good,” he moaned, and wiggled his bum in appreciation, his saggy old knockers banging against Vinny’s chin.

Vinny tapped against the A-Spot in perfect tempo with the mouth fucking, but still his stubborn trick refused to go off.

“Rim me Vinny,” he gasped. “That’ll do it for me…it always does.”

It’s what Vinny was afraid of, and richly dreaded. For he hated to lick the old man’s shrivelled up bum hole while he gasped and bucked around like an unbroken mare at a high jump.

But pro that he was, he didn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of business. The last thing he wanted was for Otto to go limp on him. And soon his aged client was erupting in the few watery spurts that signalled success.

After much discussion about how to best rob the hapless Otto, over countless bottles of beer at Duffy’s, it was decided to take the middle road. Eschewing the earlier plans to rough him up and make him pay, or trying to break into his house when he wasn’t there.

And this one was so simple; they were surprised that they hadn’t thought of it before. Namely, that while Vinny was giving Otto his weekly blowjob, Jake would sneak in through the kitchen window, which was on the ground floor and easily accessible.

The plan worked well too. “Gotta get a soda, Otto, this is thirsty work,” Vinny told the excited septuagenarian, as he extricated himself nimbly from his clutches. Then he opened the window before grabbing a Cola from the refrigerator.

When he returned Otto was tugging away at his old tool, trying to keep his hard on. “Come on quick, or it’ll go soft on me,” he demanded peevishly. They were in his living room, which was dominated by the portrait of the stern-faced Helga, his wife of almost 50 years.

Soon Otto had regained his flagging erection and was pumping away in Vinny’s mouth for all he was worth. “Bend over the chair, I want to fuck you in the bum,” he suddenly declared. And this was such an unexpected departure from his usual repertoire that it took Vinny a moment or two to comply.

“Getting adventuresome now, are we?” he commented with a sly chuckle, baring his small behind like a sacrifice to some pagan god of old, while keeping an ear cocked for Jake, who he reasoned must be in the house by now.

And he was. Pausing outside the door at that very moment just long enough to make sure that Vinny had Otto well and truly occupied, before setting off for the basement. He had scoured every inch of the upstairs and main floor, coming up with nothing at all of value, let alone a fortune in bills. And yet, rumor had it that Otto kept most of his cash on the premises, in order to avoid the clutches of the taxman.

“Not a fuckin thing,” Jake declared later as they relaxed at home, kicking at a chair with a steel-capped boot. “If that old bastard keeps his money in the house then he’s found a way to make it fuckin invisible.”

He punched the table top with a massive fist and glowered down at Vinny who was nervously nibbling at a donut. “I’m sorry, Jake,” he stammered between bites. “I guess we’ll just have to knock it out of him.”

“I reckon so,” Jake boomed, his face like thunder. “But first I’m gonna whip your ass for being such a smart mouth.”

“I’m sorry, Jake, I didn’t mean nothin by it,” Vinny protested, recalling the incident in question. For as Jake had ambled past him in Duffy’s, with the strutting exotic dancer in tow he had muttered “dancers are sluts,” in a voice designed to carry.

“You insulted Brandon,” he raged, with his face so close to Vinny’s that the open pores were clearly visible, along with a good many blackheads.”And after I’ve given you a licking for it, you’re gonna fuckin well clean the shithouse floor with a toothbrush, got that?”

“Yes Jake.” The hapless Vinny fairly quaked at this tower of rage directed at him.

“Problem is,” Jake was mumbling regretfully, as Vinny pulled down his pants and bent across the chair. “I don’t take the strap to you enough.”

He fetched the razor strop from the bathroom and brought it down across the quivering behind with a loud and fearsome crack.

“Ouch,” Vinny screamed out in pain, and tried to suck in his injured bottom to protect it from the next stroke.

Thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack…the severe thrashing continued until Vinny was pleading with Jake to stop, his mouth twisted in pain and his eyes glazed over with ecstasy.

“Stay right where you are,” Jake ordered in a voice that was thick with lust, when he at last threw down the strap and Vinny started to get up. “Whipping your butt has got me hornier than a ten-peckered owl.”

Vinny’s buttocks were a scourged and bloody mess and he winced in pain as Jake smeared a blob of Vaseline onto his anus before entering it with his bulging cock.

“You’ve got a nice tight little asshole,” he groaned hotly, and patted lightly what he had just so brutally spanked. “Oh god, I’m not going to last long, you sexy bitch.” And he fucked the obliging little orifice with long hard thrusts until he exploded in seismic convulsions.

“He won’t be sitting down comfortably for weeks,” Jake assured Brandon as they shared a beer on Duffy’s terrace. “I whupped his butt good.”

Brandon St.Cloud, whose real name was Vladimar Dimitrievich Khlebnikov,
rolled his blue eyes provocatively.

“And if you don’t stop playing hard to get,” Jake added with hot intent. “I might just do the same thing to you.”

At which Brandon threw back his head back and laughed coquettishly.

“I haven’t been spanked since I was a child,” he admitted, squirming his bottom around teasingly. “It might be fun.”

“Well I’d just put you across my lap to begin with,” Jake promised, his cock rising hard at the thought. “And spank your bare butt with the palm of my hand.”

“Mmmm … I’m liking the sounds of this more and more,” Brandon whispered. “But it would have to be a light spanking. I couldn’t get up on stage and dance with a welted blistered bum.”

“I realize that,” Jake muttered hotly. “I would just spank you enough to make you tingle and beg for more.”

The guard dog from the junkyard next door had been barking aggressively for hours. It was getting on Vinny’s already frazzled nerves and he felt ready to explode. “Shut the fuck up,” he yelled out, and slammed the door so hard plaster fell down like a dusty rain shower.

He and Jake had lived in the old house, which was not much better than a shack really, for several years. And Vinny had done his best to keep it clean and tidy.

“I’ll need a clean pair of jeans for tonight,” Jake reminded him, as he stuffed a sandwich into his mouth.

Fuck you, Vinny thought angrily, tossing a half-smoked cigarette out the kitchen window. It had been all very well being treated like a slave when it had only been himself in the picture. In fact, he had welcomed it. And only asked to be allowed to serve his master in any way possible, while willingly accepting correction for any fault.

However, that had all changed with the appearance on the scene of Brandon St. Cloud. And he winced as the name conjured up unwelcome images of the sinewy dancer locked in erotic clinches with the burly Jake, his Jake!

It wasn’t that Jake hadn’t strayed before. In fact, he had had numerous flings during their time together. But none of them had lasted the way that this one had. And Vinny knew the reason why—the slutty dancer was playing hard to get—and he grimaced angrily as he ruminated about it.

For night after night Jake would return home in a lather of frustration, venting all his pent-up horniness on Vinny’s quivering butt, often fucking him without lubrication.

And even Jake’s determination to rob poor old Otto was taking a back seat to his towering lust for the sexy dancer.

“Lips or hips?” Vinny asked Otto with a lecherous wink as they had a quick drink before beginning their weekly session. Ignoring the grim face of the shrewish Helga as it glowered down on them disapprovingly.

If only she could see her husband now, Vinny thought impishly, fastening his thin lips around the old man’s firm penis. And drooling, drooling down the length of the shaft and working his own special magic around the head and glans.

Otto moaned and would have stumbled if Vinny hadn’t grasped the bony buttocks in his hands and held them firmly.

“That’s lovely…lovely,” he moaned appreciatively and as he drew near orgasm rocked so violently that Vinny feared he was having a fit. Watching in alarm as a thin stream of spittle snaked down the wrinkled chin.

“You need a massage,” he suggested. “Calm you down a bit.” And he led him to the sofa where he began to soothe and kneed the sagging flesh with hands that were smeared with cooking oil.

“We’re gonna hit the old bastard next time you visit,” Jake declared. “We’ve gotta get some cash quick, we’re just about busted.”

And I know why, Vinny fumed inwardly. For he had been buying the coy Brandon expensive presents. He had found the evidence of this while rifling through Jake’s credit card receipts. There had been a cashmere sweater, an initialled signet ring, and a snake’s head necklace.

Why that rotten fuckin golddigger, Vinny cursed and was unable to remember the last time that Jake had bought a gift for him. And he became so upset and distracted by his thoughts that he lit another cigarette while there was still one going in the ashtray.

“You have the most beautiful fuckin body,” Jake drooled, as Brandon paraded before him in a rhinestone flecked G-string. They were in his tiny dressing room where a sluggish fan whirred ineffectively in the corner. “But will I ever get to taste its forbidden fruits?”
For the truth was, that although mightily turned on by Brandon’s inaccessibility at first, Jake was now getting fed up in his role as spurned wooer. While at the same time he was still too enamoured with the fascinating dancer to call it quits.

“What’s the rush?” Brandon cooed. And Jake was tormented with thoughts of just how many suitors this beautiful young man had. “Remember slow and steady wins the race.” And it was, indeed, a race to see who would be the first to grasp the prize - Brandon’s sexy ass and the joys of his splendid mouth.

“I haven’t been exactly unforthcoming with you,” he pouted to Jake. “Why you enjoy my bottom every night.”

“Well that’s not exactly what I have in mind,” Jake replied impatiently. Then on seeing Brandon’s peevish expression added hastily. “But it is a start. No fuckin doubt about that.”

“So shall we get started?” Brandon asked with a sultry expression. And Jake immediately set down his drink on the cluttered dressing table; finding a spot with difficulty between the cold cream and face powder. Then settled himself on the only chair the room offered.

It was time for Brandon’s spanking. And as the young man lowered himself across his lap with his toes and hands bearing his weight on the grubby tiled floor, Jake drank in with worshipping eyes the firm round globes with the G-string dividing them.

It was more like a series of love pats than a spanking. First on one tanned cheek then on the other. And the rules—established by Brandon—dictated that no other liberties be taken. Until that is, he agreed to them.

For the first time that he had submitted to a spanking, Jake had been so excited that he had fondled the young man’s balls and stroked his muscular thighs.

“Just a dozen light spanks on both bottom cheeks,” Brandon had decreed. Flexing his toes like a sensuous cat as Jake began to mete them out. His muscular legs stiffening with excitement.

Jake entertained licentious daydreams about ripping off Brandon’s G-String and penetrating his hard-to-get ass with his steely cock. Fucking him within an inch of his life and then making him lick off the cum afterwards. But Jake was as close to being in love as he was ever likely to get. And to so offend the object of his devotion was unthinkable.

After the spanking was over, Brandon allowed Jake to fondle his bottom for a few minutes. Stroking the firm flesh and murmuring endearments as he cupped the cheeks in adoring hands. This was a new liberty designed to keep his frustrated suitor happy.

“Just let me stick my fingers in the crack of your ass, and fondle your cock and balls,” Jake pleaded, his voice thick with longing.

“Maybe tomorrow night,” Brandon hedged and extricated himself nimbly from Jake’s probing hands. “Right now I have another performance.” And he twirled around gracefully crying, “my public awaits me.”

Jake wanked vigorously with hands that trembled with excitement. He was determined to hold this incorrigible cocktease to his promise and branch out with their sex play.

And the following night he did just that. “Now doesn’t that feel better?” he asked gruffly, after he had stripped off Brandon’s G-string and clasped his cock. “Time for a spanking with a difference.”

And he tugged away at the dancer’s rigid penis while delivering a brisk spanking to his upraised behind.

Spank…spank…spank…spank…spank…while Brandon squirmed with pleasure and fucked his thigh. His neat balls banging against it like battering rams at a stubborn gate. Then he penetrated the throbbing bunghole with his finger and lightly stroked the prostate. At which point Brandon squealed in excitement and went off like a missile.

“I want to fuck you properly…in the bum with my cock…” he whispered licentiously. Kneading Brandon’s ass with his hands and pressing the head of his penis against his crotch. But the young man resisted, insisting that they had gone far enough for one day.

“Waiting will make it better,” he murmured seductively. “When you do finally take me.”

And Jake had responded by spanking the backs of Brandon’s thighs, from his bottom down to his knees. Meting out light rhythmic swats that had sent the dancer squirrelly with delight. While planning on how he was going to suck on the dancer’s nut-brown nipples next time around. And rim his pretty little rosebud of an asshole with his tongue.

Vinny was convinced that once Jake had fucked Brandon his interest would diminish rapidly. It was the challenge and thrill of the chase that was currently holding his interest.
A classic case of the forbidden apple.

Meanwhile, he had been taking the brunt of his cheating partner’s frustrations. And with growing reluctance had been presenting his bottom for an energetic fucking that was repeated far into the night.

“Quit complaining,” Jake bellowed, as Vinny patted at his bleeding anus with a tissue. “You’d think you had a virgin ass for fuck’s sake.” Then he quickly renewed his assault, holding Vinny’s buttocks apart with his hands to widen the painful bum hole.

“Another peep out of you and I’ll fuckin spank you,” he threatened angrily. “And you won’t be able to sit down for a month.”

And it was much later, while he was making Vinny lick the cum of his cock prior to giving him another blow job that his thoughts spun back to Otto.

“When you go to see the old bastard tomorrow night, open the fuckin kitchen window like you did before,” he instructed. The sagging mattress creaking with the intensity of his response to the warm probing lips and tongue. “And we’ll leave there with cash, fuckin loads of it.” For Jake intended to beat the old man senseless, unless he divulged the hiding place of his fortune.

But much to his surprise, and considerable disappointment, roughhouse tactics were unnecessary. For the following evening as he crept through Otto’s hallway, Vinny intercepted him, his pale eyes bright with excitement. “I found it,” he whispered triumphantly, and pointed in the direction of the dining room.

He told Jake, that he’d noticed Otto frequently checking the heating vent ostensibly to monitor the air flow. But there was something at once so clandestine and compulsive about his actions that he had became suspicious and decided to investigate at the first opportunity.

“After you remove the grating, you have to reach in the full length of your arm,” he explained to an amazed Jake. “And there it was. A full fuckin shelf of money. All neatly stacked in a steel box.”

“Shit,” Jake exclaimed and drove his hands into the bills to look at them closer, to feel their crisp caress. “There must be a half-a-million bucks here…shit.”

“We should empty it all into a shopping bag,” Vinny suggested, thrusting a sturdy plastic carry-all in Jake’s direction. “And stuff the box with newspaper before putting it back.”

“Good thinking,” Jake admitted while scratching his day old stubble with a dirt rimed fingernail. “That way, if the old bastard reaches in to see that it’s still there, he’ll think that it is.” And he broke into a bout of loud maniacal laughter at the thought.

“Better keep it down, Jake,” Vinny warned anxiously. Explaining that although he’d plied Otto with whiskey laced with sleeping pills, the last thing he wanted was for him to awaken and come downstairs to investigate.

“Fuck I almost forgot…” Jake bellowed, but in a reduced volume. “We don’t want to wake Sleeping Beauty…now do we?” And he suppressed the laughter that was welling inside him until he was striding down the driveway, with the shopping bag full of money clutched fiercely in his hand.

When Vinny returned home later that night, it was to find that Jake had pulled up stakes and left, taking everything of value with him.

“Why that rotten greedy turd,” he cursed, kicking around at the garbage and mess left behind. For Jake had absconded with every last cent of Otto’s money. He sure hadn’t wasted any time.

And while he wasn’t surprised by this turn of events. In fact, had at least half-way expected it. There was still a degree of disappointment and rancor that his long-term partner saw fit to treat him in such a shabby fashion.

That he had been unceremoniously dumped in favor of the exotic dancer he had no doubt. And that ugly little fact rankled most of all.

Yet even as Vinny fumed over the injustice, an enigmatic smile played wickedly around the corners of his thin lips.

“You know I really do appreciate your tipping me off about the robbery,” Otto said, taking a hasty sip of a mean looking Scotch. “That way we were able to keep everyone happy…at least for a while.”

The portrait of his unsmiling widow no longer hung above the fireplace. In its stead was a pleasant watercolor of an inland lake. Otto was making changes and branching out from his former life. Asking Vinny to come and live with him had been one of the major ones. “As a sort of general dogsbody and bumboy,” he had joked, patting the tight behind lovingly to illustrate the point.

“He’s a mean bastard and he’ll kick the shit out of you if you don’t tell him where the cash is,” he had warned Otto. Fearing that the sadistic Jake would probably beat the poor old bugger to death. Then they’d have a murder charge hanging over their heads. And besides, why should he take that kind of a risk when it was the beautiful Brandon that Jake was pining after.

“There’ll never be a better chance to get rid of these,” Otto had stated with a conspiratorial wink. Slapping down a box full of money and creating a cloud of dust as he did so. “I made them myself you know?”

“…I…what?” Vinny was so amazed that he looked comical.

“That’s right,” Otto nodded proudly. “That was my hobby all those years. Printing schoolbooks by day and money at night. I did it for the challenge.”

“But didn’t you ever get caught?” Vinny had managed to regain his power of speech and looked like a surprised fish gulping down air.

“Good god, I never tried to spend the stuff,” Otto answered with a delighted hoot. “I mean it’s not that good of a quality. Not when you examine it up close.”

Then he held one of the notes beneath a reading lamp and pointed out the various flaws in the watermark and paper quality.

“They’d never past muster with someone who knew what he was doing. But with your friend, I think they’ll do just fine.”

“Until he gets caught passing them,” Vinny exclaimed, slapping his trouser leg with a delighted hand, and laughing more heartily than he’d done in years. “Counterfeiting is a bad rap, that’s federal.” Then he roared anew at the thought.

He would dearly love to see the shocked look on Jake’s face, and on his paramour’s when they were arrested. But realized that he would have to content himself by just imagining it.

“Here’s to you Otto.” And they clinked their glasses together in mutual merriment as the trailing fingers of a flaming sun dipped beneath the horizon.

 

© 2006 Scott James - Contributor's Bio