JiminQueens2's blog

We were in the shower. Kevin was standing in front of me while I washed and massaged his powerful back. I kept my hands above Kevin’s waist, but my dick was standing straight out, and Kevin obviously felt it. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at me, then turned to face me and started to sink to his knees.

“No,” I told him.

He stopped and looked up at me, puzzled. “Daddy?” he asked.

“No sex,” I said. “Not right now, anyway.”

“But we always…”

“I don’t care what we ‘always’ do, Boy,” I said firmly as I pulled him back to his feet. Kevin flushed a deep red, and I choose to believe that he wiped his eyes because water from the shower was running into them. I decided to relent a bit.

I started washing his chest, two wonderful mounds of muscle. “I told you about the party tonight, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I didn’t tell you the whole thing, though. There’s going to be wrestling – oil wrestling. Probably not naked, but I don’t know for sure. Depending on how many of your peers decide to participate, or how many of my peers order their Boys to participate, it’ll be either a win-or-go-home or a round-robin. So, are you interested?”

Kevin’s cock was still at attention; he straightened his body so that the rest of him followed suit. “Is this an order, sir?” he asked.

I smiled, partly out of affection, partly because the sight of him standing naked at attention was just so laughable, and he relaxed. “No, Son,” I said. “This is entirely up to you. If you want to wrestle, then I’ll let them know you’re in. If you don’t want to wrestle, then…we can ‘always’. But if you do want to wrestle, then that’s not a good idea. I want my Boy to win, and you’ll need your edge for that.”

Kevin put his arms around my neck, and drew me into a kiss, so it was clear what he’d decided. I was disappointed at his choice, but Kevin’s kisses are my kryptonite, and my dick, which had softened a bit while we were talking, sprang to life again. I wrapped my arms around his magnificent body and opened my mouth so that our tongues could get acquainted…but then Kevin broke the kiss and stepped out of the shower.

“‘Not a good idea’,” he said mockingly. Then he smiled and added, “Sir.”

(Kevin's narrative)

The party started at seven-thirty; Daddy and I made our entrance just before nine. Daddy looked amazing, but he always does. He had on a pair of leather pants that hid his incredible package and ass surprisingly well. He didn’t have a shirt on, just a leather vest and a Sam Browne across his chest. One of his nipples was hanging over the Sam and my tongue twitched every time I happened to glance at it. Which I did a lot. The Muir Cap over his close-cropped red hair – same color as mine – completed the package. He looked spectacular, and I smirked at the thought of how jealous every Boy in the room was going to be.

I looked pretty spectacular myself, if I do say so myself. I had on the first pair of leather pants Daddy ever bought me, and I knew that my ass looked great in them. The only difference between my pants and Daddy’s was that Daddy’s pants were intact, but mine had a hole in them. A large circular hole, right around my crotch. I was wearing a tight pair of jeans shorts under them, and a blind man could have seen what I had to offer underneath. I also had on a leather vest, but Daddy hadn’t told me that I deserved a Sam yet.

And around my neck, I wore the collar. The collar that marks me as Daddy’s.

The hall was packed – Daddies and Boys everywhere. Most of them were wearing outfits similar to mine and Daddy’s, but none of them looked as good as we did. I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.

Normally, all my attention at parties like this is on Daddy, because I’m there to do as he tells me to do. But tonight, my eyes were wandering all around the room. Not at the other Daddies – never at the other Daddies – but on the Boys. I was going to wrestle at least one of them, and I was sizing them up, watching how they moved, trying to decide the best way to take them down and take them out.

Daddy Stevenson, the Daddy who organizes these parties, spotted Daddy and me about a minute after we walked in. “Keith! Good to see you and your Boy!” he said. He put his arm around Daddy’s shoulders and escorted him to the bar. I followed in their wake as I’d been taught.

Daddy Stevenson got Daddy and me a beer each, and gestured at me with his chin. “He ready for a good fight?”

“He’s ready for a good wrestling match,” Daddy countered. “If that’s changed, I’m taking him out.”

“Jeez, Keith, I was exaggerating. Lighten up!” I had to look away to keep from glaring at him – he was an asshole, but he was also a Daddy, and I was a Boy. “Yes,” he continued, patiently, “just wrestling. No fists. Not here, anyway.”

It occurred to me that while Daddy Stevenson was, in fact, a Daddy – he didn’t have a Boy. I wasn’t surprised. He was trying too hard, and it showed, and no Boy would ever choose a Daddy like that.

“Then yes, my Boy is ready and willing. Aren’t you, Son?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied.

“Good,” Daddy Stevenson said. “We’ll probably start in about half an hour. He should come pick out a jockstrap to wrestle in.”

“Kevin,” Daddy ordered, “go with Daddy Stevenson.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I followed Daddy Stevenson to the back, past the stage and the huge oil pit in the middle of the room. It was big enough for half a dozen of us Boys to wrestle in, at least. Daddy Stevenson led me down the back hallway, then opened a door and flipped on the light switch.
We were in a cluttered office, with a jumbled pile of jockstraps on the desk, all of them white (“Best color once the oil starts to sink in,” Daddy Stevenson put in, even though I hadn’t asked). I started picking them up at random, testing the pouches. I have big hands, and I know from experience that if my closed fist fits comfortably in the pouch, my junk will.

It didn’t take me long to find three that would fit the front, but to test how they’d fit from the back… I started to undo my pants. Daddy Stevenson flushed, and turned his back. I guess he was afraid of what Daddy might do to him if he watched me try them on. He didn’t have to worry; Daddy would never get mad if someone looked, only if they tried to touch – but I didn’t enlighten him. Because, Daddy or no, he didn’t deserve the show.

The pound on the first one hugged my balls and soft dick nice and tight, but the straps were too big for my ass. The second one was just right. I pulled on my shorts and pants over it and said, “All set, sir.”

Daddy Stevenson turned around. He glanced down at my crotch, and I had to force down a smile at the look of disappointment on his face that I had gotten dressed. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll take you to where the other Boys are waiting.”