The Posh Boy - Part 2 (Patreon)
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I had something of an epiphany in the days following the incident in Oliver's bedroom. Everything made sense. The reason that I had found myself more invested in my friend's descriptions of their own cocks rather than their vivid accounts of their female counterparts was not because I was somehow broken, but rather, I was gay.
I suppose it wasn't a shocking revelation, and perhaps I had always known it deep down, but the joy I felt with Oliver's seed sloshing around in my mouth was unrivalled, and became a deep desire that I couldn't, and wouldn't forget.
My days in the Di'Piero household were no longer miserable and excruciating, but fascinating and arousing. I spent as much time as I could as close as possible to Oliver, even despite his horrid attitude toward me. I think he believed that he had simply broken any will that was left in me, and could now utilise me in any way he saw fit.
Unfortunately for me, it was largely non-sexual.
"Did you vacuum my closet?" He asked one afternoon as he lazily slouched across the expensive sofa.
"I can if you want me to" I replied, eager to keep him happy.
"Well of course I want you to" he scoffed, "but I shouldn't have to remind you to do your job".
These were the snippets of conversation that flowed between us, and as you can probably imagine, it didn't take long for it to wear thin with me, especially because there had been no further incentives to keep me longing for him.
It began to dawn on me that perhaps the sperm soaked underwear had been a genuine mistake. If not, then why had nothing else come of it? He never mentioned it, never alluded to the fact that he'd even done it in the first place, and certainly never did it again.
What he did do however, was something much, much better.
It was the Friday before my first week off. I'd made plans with three of my closest pals to take a road trip across the country. It was the first time in my life that I'd had the money to do anything as exciting, so I'd been counting down the minutes for weeks.
Naturally enough, the Di'Piero's weren't as enthused about my weeks absence as I was, and both Mister and Miss Di'Piero made it their mission to exhaust every last ounce of work from me before I left.
I'd been given the task of dusting and polishing every ornament in the house, of which there were hundreds. On top of that, the man of the house wanted me to snip the ivy on the side wall, but not too much that I'd reveal any of the brickwork underneath, just enough that it looked 'tame'. I rarely had any idea what exactly they expected of me, but I was too excited about my trip to even care.
Oliver spent the morning leisurely lounging around the house, almost purposely getting in my way at every possible opportunity, and commenting on how I should be polishing.
"Why don't you do it then?" I finally snapped, holding the rag toward him.
The handsome young man grinned, and tapped my cheek with his hand.
"Why would I do it?" He smirked, "when we pay you to do it?"
I shook my head and returned to my duties as Oliver inspected my work. Whilst I was still quite fascinated by the snobby teen, I'd given up any hope of ever being lucky enough to have a repeat of last time.
As usual, Oliver wore only a pair of expensive shorts, which made my job even more difficult when trying to prevent awkward erections every few minutes.
"How much do they even pay you, anyway?" He enquired, and the way he posed the question made it clear that he had absolutely no understanding of the value of money.
"One fifty" I shrugged, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain on a China cat which was likely the same price as ten years worth of my wages.
"Really?" He asked, rubbing his chin, "that's very generous of my father. It's almost as much as he gives me" he added with a chuckle.
"Right" I nodded, partially ignoring him.
"If you're making one fifty an hour, then why are you wearing these rags?" He sneered, pinching the arm of my t-shirt.
I yanked myself away from him and glared angrily.
"An hour?" I scoffed, "try a week".
The young man's large blue eyes widened as he worked the numbers out in his head, before finally he laughed and stared at me, as though waiting for the punchline.
"Oh you're serious?" He gasped, "Ha! I'd spend that on a cheap pair of shoes".
I had become rather oblivious to the regular comparisons between my life and theirs. We were different people, with different lifestyles and certainly, much different incomes. I didn't dwell on it, but it still carried a sting when it was said so blatantly.
"So you do all of this for one hundred and fifty dollars a week?" He sniggered, "god only knows what you'd do for an actual wage".
I'd almost totally blanked the posh teen by now, and was focusing solely on the China fucking cat.
"What would you do for an actual wage?" He pressed, and finally I'd had enough.
"Can you just leave me alone?" I said, trying to remain calm but feeling my blood boil, "what are you even doing here? Don't you have some stupidly expensive clothes to buy?"
Oliver smirked and pointed at his shorts.
"Like these, you mean?" He quipped, looking down his nose at me, "I bet I paid more for these shorts than you did for that entire... Well, whatever that is that you're wearing".
"I bet" I nodded, "but what's the point when the only people who ever see them are your mom and dad? Do you even have any friends?".
It came out much harsher than I had intended, and the second I'd said it, I regretted it. I wasn't a cruel young man, if anything, I was quite reserved, but Oliver had pushed my buttons. Perhaps it was the nasty comments, but part of me knew that I was bitter that nothing had come of the semen surprise.
"What did you say?" He growled, and for the first time since I'd met him, I noticed that his cheeks had turned red.
"Forget it" I mumbled, and as I reached for the China cat again, his hand shot out and closed around my wrist, squeezing me firmly.
"No" he snarled, "say it again".
My heart quickened. Yes, he was a posh, snobby shit, but he was double my size and made mostly of muscle, so kicking the living shit out of me would have been quite easy for him.
"I'm sorry" I said, and I genuinely was.
"I'm your boss" he spat, "I could sack you right now if I wanted to".
"I know" I nodded, attempting to placate him, "I'm sorry".
He glared at me for a moment before releasing my wrist, but remaining beside me.
"So" he shrugged, "answer my question. What would you do for an extra, lets say, fifty dollars a week?"
There really wasn't a whole lot left for me to do in the house. The family had already covered almost every base, so I shook my head and looked to him for guidance.
"Would you... Clean my shoes?" He asked, scanning his brain for the most humiliating of chores.
"Sure" I shrugged, and that seemed to impress him.
"With a toothbrush?" He pressed, and I rolled my eyes without him noticing.
"If you want" I told him.
"Would you clean my toilet with your own toothbrush?" He sniggered, but I ignored that one.
A silence fell between us as I continued with my work, until Oliver spoke again.
"Would you suck my dick?" He asked, and a rush of adrenaline pulsed through my body almost instantly.
I knew it was another one of his stupid, childish games, but it was still hot to hear him say it. I decided that instead of ignoring him, I'd play into it. I had nothing to lose really, he already treated me like shit, and I could always say that I was joking just as much as he was, if it ever came down to it.
"Yep" I nodded, eager not to sound too serious.
I waited for him to laugh and move onto the next unrealistic scenario, but he remained quiet and suddenly I couldn't have cared less about the China fucking cat.
"You'd suck a dick for a measly fifty bucks?" He scoffed, as I turned to him.
"Yeah" I shrugged, doing my best to gauge his reaction.
"And swallow?" He smirked, and I nodded nonchalantly.
"How about licking my balls?" He continued, and again, I nodded.
Nothing he could have said would have made me decline. I was going to push this for as long as I could, and regardless of the outcome, I still found myself becoming aroused.
"For fifty bucks?" He repeated, and yet again, I nodded.
"How about twenty?"
Nod.
"Ten?"
Nod.
"Would you do it for free?"
Nod.
The back and forth went quickly, but not as quickly as the next part. Oliver reached down and yanked his shorts to his knees, and as he did, a long, veiny cock flopped out and swung up and down.
My eyes nearly bulged from my head as I stared at it open mouthed. It had been such a rapid progression, and one that my brain hadn't yet comprehended. It was huge, and growing harder with each passing second. He was circumcised, and so smooth that it looked as though he'd had his pubic hair lasered off. His long, wrinkled sack housed two grapefruit sized balls, and I felt myself begin to harden and salivate in unison.
"Well go on then" he said, and I could tell that he too, felt awkward.
His rod had reached a length of about eight inches, and erected at an angle so that his cumslit almost winked directly at me. I somehow managed to pull my eyes from it for a moment, and found his, staring back at me.
"I'm not going to stand here all day, Jason" he hissed, "so get on with it".
The fact that he'd gotten my name wrong mattered very little. If this was a trap, then it was certainly a very good one. I could feel my boner lodge sideways in my briefs and wanted nothing more than to squeeze it.
"You're all talk" he scoffed, and reached for his shorts.
"Wait!" I almost barked, and he paused.
"Fifty" I said, and he considered it for a moment before nodding.
"Every day" he negotiated, "first thing in the morning, and once before you go".
If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up. Not only was he offering me the thing that I'd been dreaming of for weeks, but he was offering it to me twice daily, and paying me for the pleasure.
I tried to compose myself, acting as though the only reason I was doing this was for the money, and took to one knee. Oliver stared down at me as I swallowed a lump in my throat.
"And don't put your teeth near it" he spat, holding the base between his thumb and finger, and aiming it directly at my mouth.
Of course, I'd never sucked a dick in my life, so the idea of putting something as large as Oliver's cock into my mouth and not going near it with my teeth sounded quite impossible indeed, but perhaps it was a learning curve, and if so, it was one I was eager to take.
I cleared my throat, and wiped my mouth and slowly brought myself closer to him. I felt his warmth first, and the subtle scent of chlorine from the swimming pool rushed up my nostrils. I inhaled deeply, and closed my lips around his cock head.
A gasp escaped him, and my mind became fuzzy with horniness. He tasted wonderful, and nothing like you'd expect a piss tube to actually taste like. I kept my teeth hidden behind my lips as best I could, and plunged a little deeper. Despite how erect he was, his cock was quite soft to the touch.
Further down his shaft I travelled until he hit the back of my throat and I gagged instantly. I heard him tut overhead, but ignored him and continued.
My eyes began to water as soon as the first gag sounded, and remained as such throughout the entirety of the blowjob. I became better at controlling myself however, and it took only a few minutes before most of his cock could slide down my throat without much gagging at all.
Oliver gasped and groaned above, his hips slowly thrusting into me as I bobbed back and forth. My cock was painfully straining in my underwear, though it was less of a priority now.
Strangely, about ten minutes into the sloppy, wet blowjob, my mind wandered to my father. What would he think if he knew that his eldest son was on his knees, sexually pleasuring the son of a rich family who employed him and exploited him? What would he think if he knew that he was being paid for the act, and would be doing it regularly from now on?
"Lick my balls" Oliver breathed, pulling his drooling rod from my throat and holding it up so that his nut sack was visible.
I didn't think about it. I was hungry for him now, and leapt at the opportunity, opening my mouth as wide as possible and allowing him to teabag me.
His heavy sack was sharper to taste, but no less delicious. I popped one of his balls inside my warm, wet mouth at a time, rolling it around my tongue and tasting the sweat from the rich teen.
He let his cock go and it splashed against my face, oozing pre-cum over my right eyelid and partially blinding me in the process. He didn't care about me in the slightest, and I think that was one of the reasons why I found the entire thing so damn hot.
I continued to soak his balls in my mouth until it evidently became too much for him and he slid his tool back between my lips.
I swallowed his cock again, but this time it was slick with his own juices. The salty taste filled my mouth, and although I didn't think it possible, it made me somehow more horny than I had been already.
He was rougher this time, holding the back of my head with both hands and dragging me down his pole until I gagged violently and covered his meat in saliva.
Oliver sped up, using my throat like a fleshlight as the sound of gagging, sloshing and spluttering filled the room. He was grunting now, sounding more like a wild animal than a privileged young man. My entire face was covered in body fluids, both his and mine, but I continued to allow him to use me like a toy.
The whole thing lasted at least thirty minutes, before the muscular young swimmer moaned loudly and held my head in place, with every inch of his prick embedded in my throat.
He pumped his hips and I felt his balls tighten against my chin, and suddenly my mouth filled with fluid. He was cumming directly down my throat, but the volume was that large, that it was squirting back up the way too.
I could feel him ooze into my stomach, but my mouth was flooded as well, and his pulsing tool spasmed and leaked even more as he slid it out and drooled onto my clothes.
I swallowed the load in my mouth, and wiped my eyes with my hands before looking up at him. It was like he didn't even notice me, he simply squeezed his softening wet dick, draining the last of himself onto me before pulling his shorts back up and walking to the back door.
"You should hurry up with them" he said, trying to hide his breathlessness, "mother will be furious if you leave them like that".
And with those words, Oliver disappeared out the back and dove into the pool.
I remained on my knees for a few minutes, wondering if the encounter had really happened, or if I'd wake up at any moment. I could still taste him on my tongue, and I knew that the next few hours of cleaning would be almost unbearable with the erection in my pants threatening to explode at any moment.
What I didn't know however, was that it was a feeling that I was going to get very, very used to.