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“Would you like to go into The Darkroom with me?” he asked.

I smiled politely and said to him, “Thanks, Barry, but I’ve already seen it.”

He seemed disappointed, and somewhat surprised. “OH…okay, I’ll talk to you later,” he said and abruptly walked away in the middle of our conversation.

Why are these guys so interested in showing me The Darkroom? I wondered. Barry had been the third guy I’d met at the party who asked me that question.

Earlier, in search of a bathroom, I had mistakenly opened a door with a small green light near the doorknob and walked inside. In the darkness I fumbled for the light switch and when I flipped it on, the room became aglow in red. I looked around and recognized it to be a photographers darkroom. I turned the light out and continued my quest to find a bathroom.

The whole party had an odd feel to it. When I arrived and began looking for Thomas, I noticed there were probably more than double the number of guys than girls.

Oh great, I thought sarcastically, my chances of getting laid went from slim to none!

I say that not because I’m some hideous creature who repels women, no, in fact I have been told by many girls that I’m very cute… the problem seems to be my size, I’m only 5′ 6″ and 130 pounds, and almost every time I engage a pretty girl in conversation, and I’m making her laugh and we’re having a good time, she always ends up leaving with some 6′ 2″ hunk…it’s like I’m the warm-up act and when the star of the show arrives—she goes home with him!

“Johnny,” I heard Thomas call out behind me. “I’m so glad you could make it—I wasn’t sure if you’d come or not!”

I’ve told him many times at work that I preferred to be called ‘John’ not ‘Johnny’ but it seems to fall on deaf ears…well, he is my boss, and well, what difference does it make anyway?

When I turned to speak to him I was taken aback by his attire. He was dressed in a tight, white tee shirt and faded blue jeans. At the office, he always wore dress shirts, nice slacks and a suit coat with no tie…he is a good five-inches taller than me so when he came closer I couldn’t help but stare at his chest…I knew he worked-out, but at the office, the suit coat hid his body, but now, his finely chiseled and sculpted chest seemed to threaten to burst his tee shirt.

He smiled and asked, “Like what you see?”

I blushed and stammered, “Uh, you’re in great shape!” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, you look nice too—I love your shorts…and your legs!” he said.

I was wearing Bermuda shorts and a golf polo shirt. For some reason I said, “I, uh, don’t own any blue jeans.”

He smiled and said, “Doesn’t surprise me a bit” then quickly added “Have you been here long?”

“No, uh, I’m only on my second drink,” I lied, I was finishing my third drink.

“How about showing me where the bar is?” he said. “You need a refill and I could use something myself.”

All the rooms in the big house were dimly lit, but at parties, I always made sure I knew how to find the bar.

“I’ll have a glass of chardonnay!” he said pointing to the bottle chilling in the wine bucket.

“Oh, okay,” I said. I found a wine glass and filled it three-quarters full. I then put a couple ice cubes in my glass and filled it with Jack Daniels.

“Oh, you’re a serious drinker, aren’t you!” he said.

I blushed and momentarily wondered if it was such a good idea to look like a lush in front of the boss, but he smiled at me, raised his glass and said, “I’m glad you could come tonight.”

We clinked glasses and took healthy swallows.

From beside me I heard a female voice say, “As long as you’re pouring, cutie-pie, I’ll have a glass of wine, too!”

I instantly recognized the voice of our Office Manager, Linda. “Certainly!” I said.

I didn’t look at her until I gave her the glass of wine. OH MY GOODNESS, I thought when I saw her towering over me. She was a tall woman to begin with, but in spiked high-heels she looked like a giant…and then came the second shock…she was holding a leash and it was attached to a dog collar fastened around the neck of a young, pretty girl.

OH MY GOODNESS—that’s Tracey, our receptionist!

I tried my best to stay calm and nonchalant. I asked Tracey, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Linda spoke for her. “No, she’s been a naughty girl—I’ll give her something to drink in The Darkroom!”

Thomas and Linda both laughed. I didn’t know what she meant, but said to myself, Boy, what’s so special about The Darkroom?

I looked at their slutty ‘costumes’ when they walked away from us and asked Thomas, “I know this is the middle of April, but is this supposed to be some sort of costume party?”

Before he could answer, an older man passed by us escorting a boy about my age…the boy was naked except for a white jockstrap—the boy’s plump buttocks jiggled as they went by…then I saw the boy’s wrists were handcuffed behind his back.

Thomas laughed. I guessed he was amused by the stunned expression on my face.

He placed his hand on the back of my neck and gently massaged nevşehir escort it. A chill ran up-and-down my spine.

“I thought you knew this was a gay party?” he calmly said.

And then—OH MY GOODNESS—the sudden reality shook my brain.

“I, uh…well, it never occurred to me that you could be gay,” I answered softly.

“Really?” he said sounding surprised. “It never occurred to me that you could be straight!”

My face burned red. Two guys got up from lounge chairs at a small table nearby, and Thomas said, “C’mon, let’s sit and talk!”

He guided me to the table by the nape of my neck. His gentle caress caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand straight.

He leaned in and I stared into his beautiful blue eyes waiting for him to speak. “Be honest with me, Johnny—you’re really NOT gay?”

Another fierce blush covered my face as I vigorously shook my head back-and-forth.

Thomas sat back then took a sip of wine. I took two large gulps of whiskey to try and calm my now-frazzled nerves.

“So tell me, how long have you been telling people you’re not gay?” he asked with a smile.

Huh? WHAT?

“I-I…uh, well, I—“

He laughed out loud. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me!”

“No-no, really…I don’t have anything against gay people at all…I even knew some back home!”

“Well, it does take one to know one, don’t you think?” he said.

He keeps twisting my words—why is he talking to me like this?

“You moved here what? Three-months ago? (I nodded) You’ve gone to bars with some of my warehouse guys and they say you’re more interested in drinking than meeting women…in fact, I’ve heard that whenever they try to set you up with a girl, you make excuses not to meet her, isn’t that right?”

“No, uh, I’m shy…I really don’t know what to say to girls…I get all flustered and say stupid things…I like girls—I want to meet them—I’m just not very good at it!”

“Have you met ANY girls since you moved here?” he asked.

“Well no, it’s like I said—I’m not good at it!”

“Have you EVER had a steady girlfriend?”

“Well yeah—of course!”

“When?”

“Ah, well, it was awhile ago, but yes—I had a steady girlfriend for over two-years!”

“WHEN?”

“We, uh, broke-up when she went away to college.”

“So the last time you were with a girl was when you were eighteen—three-years ago?”

“Well, yeah…I know it’s been awhile, but…”

“Did you have sex with her?”

“Well, yeah—of course!”

“What did you do with her?”

Why was he asking me such personal questions? “Well, you know—the usual things…”

“No, I don’t know—I like guys, remember? Did she let you feel her up? Did she feel YOU up? Did she masturbate you? Did she suck your cock? Did you eat her pussy? Did she let you fuck her? I’m curious if you’re a virgin or not!”

“I’M NOT A VIRGIN!”

OH MY GOD—this is incredible—what is he doing?

“Okay, calm down, I’m only trying to help you…”

I didn’t want to make him mad—he is my boss, after all.

“Yes, we did all those things…”

“Good, now we’re making progress…did you make her cum when you fucked her?”

WHEN IS THIS LINE OF QUESTIONING GOING TO END? “Of course I made her cum!”

“Really? Be honest with me, Johnny…you know I like you—I wish only the best for you—but I can’t help you if you lie to me!”

WHAT DOES HE WANT FROM ME? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY?

He suddenly took my hand and placed our palms together and compared the difference in size.

“This may be an old wives tale, but from the size of your hands and feet I’m guessing you have a small dick…is that true, Johnny?”

HOW COULD HE SAY THAT TO ME? How do you answer a question like that?

“I’m willing to bet you a thousand dollars she never had an orgasm while you fucked her…I’ll even bet the only way you could make her cum was by eating her pussy…am I getting warm there, Johnny? OH WAIT—I’ll bet you never made her cum at all? You never made her cum, did you?”

“YES, I DID—WITH MY MOUTH AND HANDS!” I said it so loud I looked around to see if someone else heard me.

“Alright, that’s good, Johnny—now we’re getting somewhere…did she let you cum inside her pussy?”

Maybe if I tell him what he wants to hear he’ll change the subject. “No…she made me take it out before I came…we weren’t, you know, using ‘protection’…”

“She had you eat her pussy more often than she allowed you to fuck her, right?”

“Yeah…”

“…and you really did not like going down on her, did you?”

How does he know all this? What gives him the right to ask such rude questions? “No, uh, not really…she was very hairy down there.”

“Yes, that can be a scary place, what with your head buried between her legs—your nose and mouth pressed tightly to her cunt—-it’s difficult to even breathe—you just wanted her to cum and get it over with as fast as possible, right?”

“Well, yeah, I couldn’t wait for it to be over with…”

More people were arriving nevsehirescort.net at the party, and sitting near the bar we had a good view of them as they made their drinks. It was becoming quite a freak show.

One particular boy caught my attention. He was naked except for a pair of yellow women’s panties, and when I looked closer, the panties were so sheer I could clearly see his ‘junk’ thru the material. Not only that, but he appeared to be completely hairless below his head—not a single strand ANYWHERE!

He was with a man about the same age as Thomas, which I knew to be thirty-eight. Thomas suddenly called out “Peter” and the man turned, smiled, and said, “Thomas, how have you been?”

“I have my health, and business is good…my love life is quiet right now, but, that may improve very soon!”

Did Thomas nod in my direction when he mentioned his love life?

“Teddy, go say ‘hi’ to Thomas and his young friend!” Peter said to the boy wearing the yellow panties.

“Yes, Sir,” he cheerfully said to Peter.

‘Teddy’ came to the table and stood close between Thomas and myself. I had to take a deep breath; he was so close I could now verify his ‘junk’ was totally hairless inside the tight-fitting panties.

“It’s nice to see you again, Sir,” said the boy to Thomas.

Thomas smiled and replied, “And you’re as cute as ever, Teddy!”

“The boy grinned and said, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Johnny, feel his legs—feel how smooth they are!” said Thomas.

HUH? WHAT? Does he really expect me to run my hands over a boys legs?

“JOHNNY—FEEL HIS LEGS!”

I immediately placed a hand on Teddy’s leg and lightly moved it up and down—OH MY GOODNESS—his skin was as soft to the touch as a baby’s butt. I was about to pull my hand away when Thomas said, “Keep going—feel his chest!”

I quickly obeyed and marveled at his firm and taut belly. I saw Thomas doing something with his hand behind Teddy—it appeared he was massaging the boy’s butt thru the panties.

And then—OH MY GOODNESS—the boy’s penis began rising inside the panties. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the slowly stiffening member.

“JOHNNY—reach your hand back here between his legs and feel the material!”

I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t want to anger my boss, either. The boy opened his legs wider to give me better access when I reached thru his legs. Thomas grasped my hand and placed it on the boy’s panty-sheathed buttocks. My boss pressed my hand firmly against the material and moved it over the boys well-shaped asscheeks.

The boy’s prick instantly rose to full erection, and because I had to lean in to reach behind him, his hard prick, tenting-out the panties, was only six-inches from my face.

“Johnny, go ahead and kiss it if the mood strikes you!” I heard Thomas say from behind the boy.

OH MY GOD—HOW COULD HE SAY THAT TO ME? My face burned red. When the boy shifted forward and his hard prick was an inch from my mouth and I could smell the aroma from his freshly bathed crotch, I pulled my hand from his buttocks like it was on fire, and jerked my head backwards as if I were dodging a blow to my face.

I heard Thomas and Peter both laughing. “Thomas, good luck tonight and have fun,” said Peter.

“Thank you, Peter—who knows, maybe some night soon we’ll get together!” replied Thomas.

I was out of breath, but didn’t want my boss see me gasping for air…there was something else I didn’t want him to see, as well—the small bulge in my shorts that had grown when I’d felt the material of the panties.

“It’s getting too crowded in here, fix us two more drinks and we’ll move somewhere more quiet!” said Thomas.

I did as he said, and he then led me thru the house until we came to a small alcove that contained a loveseat, and a television a few feet away. I saw a door with a small red light, and recognized where we were—it was the door to The Darkroom, the door I had earlier mistaken for the bathroom. The loveseat was small, and when we sat, our legs were firmly touching.

“So Johnny, how long have you had your panty fetish? Since puberty?” he asked.

HUH? WHAT? My heart started pounding.

“Yes, it was quite obvious you became excited by Teddy’s panties…your shallow breathing, and the boner you sprung when you felt them were dead-giveaways! So tell me, how many times have you masturbated using women’s panties?”

OH MY GOODNESS—how could he ask that? How can I answer him?

“No-no-no-no…” I protested.

I was about to vehemently tell him to mind his own business when he pressed a finger to my lips and said:

“Shhhh—be careful Johnny—I DO NOT want to hear another lie from you! If you cannot tell me the truth about a simple matter as this—how can I ever trust you at work? I give you access to sensitive information on the computer system—if I can’t trust you I WILL assign you to lesser duties!”

Oh no—I LIKE my job—it’s almost as though I’m his personal assistant; he gives me more responsible work than anyone else there. I’d die if he took that away from me.

He added: “Okay, let’s begin again, and I assure you whatever we talk about is strictly between you and me—no one else will ever know what we tell one another—okay?”

It appeared I was doomed to have to sit there and answer extremely intimate questions. I nodded my head and softly said, “Okay.”

“Have you masturbated using women’s panties?” he asked calmly.

I paused for a split second then decided I’d better tell the truth.

“Yes,” I said very softly.

“Yes WHAT, Johnny? My God boy, you’re an adult—speak like one—answer my questions with complete sentences…I’m going to give you one last chance, Johnny—have you masturbated using women’s panties?”

There was a lump in my throat when I said, “Yes, I have masturbated with women’s panties.”

“Good boy…that wasn’t so hard was it? Now, did you wrap them around your stiff little dick, or did you actually put them on and wear the panties while you jerked-off?”

Oh my goodness—how embarrassing is this? “I wore the panties while I jerked-off…”

“Did you use your hand—or lie on your stomach and grind your little dick into the mattress?”

OH NO—how could he possibly guess? “I was on my stomach grinding my, uh, little dick into the mattress.”

“…and you shot your load inside the panties, right?”

“Yes, I shot my load inside the panties…”

“What kind of panties were they? Lace? Nylon? Sheer and see-thru?”

OH MY GOD!! “Nylon panties…”

“What color were they?”

“Yellow…”

“Who did they belong to?”

I hesitated…I can’t tell him that, can I?

“WHO DID THEY BELONG TO? Your sister? An aunt? Your mother?”

“My m-mother…”

“So, you masturbated and shot your load inside your mother’s yellow nylon panties, is that correct?”

As if in a trance, I repeated, “Yes, I masturbated and shot my load inside my mother’s yellow nylon panties!”

I wondered if it sounded as dirty and perverse to Thomas as it did to me.

“Don’t you feel better now after admitting it?” he asked. “Don’t you agree that ‘the truth will set you free’?”

No, not really, I thought to myself. All it did was remind me of a shameful period of my life, and worse, now my boss knows about it, too…but I didn’t want to make him mad so I simply said, “Yes, I guess so…”

“What do you think about when you masturbate?”

The hair on the back of my neck stood straight, and I involuntarily shivered…I prayed he didn’t notice.

“Is THAT what you fantasize about?” he asked, pointing at the television screen.

For the first time I looked at the television, and shocked, I watched two men and a woman, all naked, performing sex acts.

One man was lying on a bed, the woman was bending over and sucking his rather large cock; the other man was behind her, fucking her doggy-style…I couldn’t believe such a graphic porno video was on television at a party.

“I asked you ‘what do you think about when you masturbate’? What are your fantasies?”

“Well, uh, they’re like that—I’m either fucking a girl, or she’s blowing me!”

He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. The action had a calming affect on me.

“Look at the movie, Johnny…which one do YOU fantasize being—one of the guys—or the girl?”

OH MY GOD—HUH—WHAT???? If his strong arm hadn’t been holding me close to him, I would have leapt from the seat and bolted from the room.

“Not too long ago I’m sure you thought about women, but now…well, I don’t think fantasies about women work for you anymore…I think your orgasms are more powerful when you stare at hard cocks and picture yourself on your knees with a hard cock in your mouth, or bending over and taking a hard cock in your boy-pussy—isn’t that right, Johnny?”

I couldn’t move—his words completely immobilized me with a fear I had never known—a fear so strong I wanted to shrivel-up and die.

“Thomas, please—this conversation is making me uncomfortable!”

“I know it is, Johnny, it’s supposed to—it means you’re making progress!”

PROGRESS? Progress towards what ends? What does he want me to say?

“Why did you move here, Johnny? Why would a boy like you—smart, funny, articulate—good looking—move a thousand-miles from family and friends? What are you trying to escape from?”

He pulled me even closer to him.

“Or, better yet, what do you hope to find here—a place where everyone is a stranger to you—where people have no idea who you are—or, what kind of boy you are…”

“I-I came here for the weather—I hate the cold winters up north—I moved here for the sunshine and the beaches!”

“Oh, Johnny…I’m getting so tired of your lies I’m going to get up and leave you here alone…”

“No, please don’t go, Thomas! It’s just that, well, I don’t know what you want me to say…my life has been boring—I’m not an interesting person…”

After an exasperated sigh, he said, “Alright…if you want me to stay I’m going to change the rules…first off, I want you to address me as ‘Sir’…your vague and evasive answers to my questions make me feel as though you don’t respect me—I’m not only your boss, but I’m seventeen-years older than you and believe you may benefit from some of my accumulated wisdom…is that clear?”

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