Leather Skin Biker

As weeks turned into months, faggotjewboy (FJB) and I spent many hours chatting online. There was something very real about this interaction. There are thousands of boys and Sirs online who participate in mutual mental masturbation. I have nothing against that. It serves a useful purpose for many people. But occasionally, I meet the exception, the boy who is not just blowing smoke out of his ass. The better I came to know FJB, the more I realized that he was not just about talk. he was, and is, very real. In spite of the fact that he gets off on guys who fail to disclose their sexual exploits to their significant others, he has always been brutally honest with me. He’s so honest that he often says things about me that I know are true, but am not ready to acknowledge. Where I may hold on to some small amount of denial, FJB does not. It doesn’t matter what the topic, I can count on FJB to be real, and tell me what he really thinks.

Having become acquainted with FJB’s darkness, and knowing what I knew about his personality, things fell into a pretty regular rhythm between us. Few days passed without at least a brief online chat. We generally took weekends off, as we were busy with our respective lives, but weekday chats had become usual and expected. Just as the chats had become regular, so had the topics. In that sense, we had collected what amounted to something like our greatest hits. There were recurring themes, many of which were mutually arousing.

Consistent themes of our conversations included the path that he has followed since age 15, when he began to be used by older men. When considered in this context, everything that has happened since then all makes sense. FJB was built to serve other men, and he continues to do so to this day. This means that when he was laying on his back in cold sticky cum on the floor of a booth in the back of an adult bookstore, it was to be expected. When he sucked off four or five guys anonymously in a men’s room at a convention host hotel during lunch hour, it was just him living his life as he was meant to live it. He’s been on this path for over 30 years, and there is no mystery about it any longer. FJB knows what he is, and so do I. Perhaps what resonated most with me was his self awareness about all of it. FJB was and is well aware of what he is and does not try to rationalize it or apologize for it. He has no sense of remorse or regret, and there need be none. He simply “is.”

Some of our conversations were and are very dark indeed. FJB is the kind of boy that I can tease mercilessly, yet he never blinks. But am I teasing, or am I just expressing my darkest motivations? For example, when I told him that I wanted to take him to the Holocaust Museum in D.C. so I could look at the displays with him, then turn to him and snicker, was I teasing or was I simply expressing my truest nature? When I told him that I wanted to take his shoes, just like the Nazis did, was I just trying to get a reaction from him, or did I mean it? When I told him that I wanted to tattoo a swazi on his skin, in hopes that it would shock his family at some point, was I just playing with his head, or did I mean it? When I said that I wanted to stick a loaded revolver in his mouth while I fucked him, was that just for erotic titillation, or did I mean it? When I said that I would poz him, one day visit him in the hospital, and if it ever came to it, attend his funeral, was I bluffing or did I mean it? I’ve written about FJB’s seriousness, his honesty, about how he always means what he says. But what about me? Am I equally honest? Am I equally real?

When FJB and I talked about him submitting to me in a permanent, lasting, irreversible way, forever, there was a period during which I wondered whether he were serious. I didn’t always know how real FJB is, and early on I was still learning. In spite of the fact that I did not know for sure, I decided to go balls out, and move forward as though he meant every word he said. If he were bluffing, then the day would come when he would bail. And if he were serious, then the day would come when he would be tethered to me for life. Those were the two possible outcomes. On some level, I perceived this like a contest to see who would blink first, and I was up for the challenge.

Having been in communication with me probably no more than a month or six weeks tops, FJB found himself engaged in this intellectual, erotic predicament. The path that he began at age 15 had led him to this place, this man, this devil. Metaphorically, FJB was staring at the barrel of a gun. Would he run? Would he hide? Would he blink? Or would he simply stare deep into my eyes and wait for me to pull the trigger? His people have a history of hardship and are known for being longsuffering. Would FJB be true to his heritage? I honestly didn’t know. But I would find out in time just what FJB was made of.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 14th, 2008 at 7:27 am and is filed under Dominance, Power Imbalance, Psychological Control, Snuff, Submission.