Autowriter

By z119z published January 16, 2018
z119z2000@yahoo.com
Summary
An author finds inspiration while getting a cup of coffee.

“How’s it going?” Ross looked up from his tablet as his landlord/roommate crossed the living room. Jay was headed toward the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. Jay couldn’t write without coffee. He called it his “liquid muse.” He wasn’t joking. On an active day of writing, he went through a dozen cups, sometimes more.

“Pretty good. The book’s coming together. I should be able to finish the first draft this month.” Jay had to squint to make Ross out. His tenant was sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that separated the living room from the back patio. He could barely see Ross against the afternoon glare coming through the windows. The image was so nebulous that it was almost as if no one was sitting there and Ross’s voice was originating inside his own mind. “What have you been doing?”

“Just reading.”

“Anything interesting?” From the kitchen came the sound of coffee splashing into Jay’s mug and the click of carafe as Jay sat it back on the warmer. .

Ross shrugged. “Just the latest crop of stories on Gay Mind Warp. It’s been a busy week there.”

Jay reappeared in the doorway to the kitchen clutching his mug. “Jeez. How can you read that crap! The writing is wretched. It’s all some fantasy about converting a straight stud into a gay sex maniac with a twelve-inch cock or about being controlled and forced to do ridiculous things.”

“I like it. And you read it too.”

“No, I don’t.” Jay’s face was a study in disgust. He looked ready to spit into his coffee to get the taste of the Gay Mind Warp site out of his mouth.

“Then how come you know what the stories are about?”

“I was curious why you spend hours glued to the screen salivating over that shit. One look was enough. I wouldn’t go near that site again.”

“You’d love the one I just finished reading. Another MikeX story. He outdid himself this time.”

“Oh, god, he’s the worst. That guy’s mental. He should be put in a straight-jacket and locked away in a rubber room.”

Ross and Jay were unlikely roommates. Ross usually spent his days in the living room, lounging in his favorite overstuffed easy chair. He rarely left the house, spending his days watching TV, reading or looking at online porn, or playing games on his tablet or phone—sometimes all three at once. He seldom bothered to dress. Day and night he could found wearing only a frayed pair of boxer shorts and flip-flops. He never exercised. To judge from the width of his shoulders and the bulk of his body, he had once had a muscular body, but in his present incarnation the pasty-white remains of his pecs dropped over a bloated gut. A high oily-looking forehead crowned a broad face, made even broader by a sporadically maintained three-inch-long fringe of beard growing along his jaw line. Thick eyeglasses magnified and distorted his eyes, which was a pity in Jay’s opinion, because Ross had nice eyes. When they talked, Jay sometimes found himself staring at Ross’s eyes. It was easier to focus on them then elsewhere on his body.

How Ross earned a living was a mystery to Jay. At night he disappeared into his bedroom on the second floor and did something on his computers that he claimed earned him enough to support himself. Whatever he did must have been profitable. He always paid Jay the rent on time, and he gave such generous tips that the pizza and liquor delivery guys fought for the privilege of delivering the two foods that constituted his daily sustenance.

Jay prided himself on being the exact opposite. To be sure, he wore casual clothes around the house—chinos and polo shirts or Tees were his usual choices—but he never ran around nude, or even shirtless. He even put on a bathrobe to walk the few feet between his bedroom and the bathroom he shared with Ross. His hair was neatly trimmed. He shaved daily. True, like Ross, he worked at home, but he was rigorous with himself. He spent at least eight hours a day writing the novels and short stories that gave him a substantial income. He got up at five in the morning to jog and go to the gym. His muscular and lithe body testified to his daily exercise regimen. He ate only healthy food. He never smoked, drank, or took drugs. His was a healthy mind in a healthy body.

In Jay’s view, his tenant’s worst habit was the awful cigars he smoked, but at least Ross stepped outside into the back yard when he smoked one. When Ross had moved in, Jay had insisted that Ross promise not to smoke inside the house, and Ross had kept that pledge. Jay had grown accustomed to glancing outside when he got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom to seeing the lit end of Ross’s cigar glowing in the night. If it hadn’t been for the rank odor, he might almost have enjoyed seeing the red circle moving slowly in the dark. Sometimes he stood at the window watching it for minutes as it slowly described arcs in the air as Ross lifted it to his mouth. The way the end flared brighter as Ross sucked the smoke into his mouth was almost beautiful.

Sometimes he thought about telling Ross to move out. But he worried that without someone to interact with daily, he would end up talking to himself and inventing an imaginary friend. An even better reason for keeping the big slob around was that Ross was a negative example of what he could all too easily become if he gave into temptation. Ross was a lesson in what he would look like if he began indulging himself. It would be great to lounge about the house all day, not bothering to get dressed, eating pizza, drinking beer, and smoking. Well, not smoking. He’d never sink that low. But still he could gain thirty pounds in six months if he stopped exercising and watching his diet. He wasn’t that far away from becoming Ross. There were enough physical resemblances between the two of them already that one deliveryman had asked if they were brothers.

“No, not a straight jacket. He obviously likes men too much to be straight. Maybe a tight leather harness and a studded jock strap. I bet he’d like that.” Ross licked his lips at the thought of MikeX in leather.

“He probably would, to judge from his stories.” Jay shook his head in disgust. “Jeez, they’re revolting. I can’t read more than a couple of paragraphs of them”

Ross chuckled to himself. “No, MikeX’s works wouldn’t be to your taste. He writes about normal, horny guys. You won’t find any of your sensitive, well-educated, opera-loving poetry-spouting gays in his works.”

Jay refused to rise to the bait. “Nope. No horny gay guys in my stories. Speaking of which, I’d better get back to my opera lover du jour. He’s about to start quoting Rimbaud. Or maybe Verlaine. In French, of course.” Jay raised his coffee mug in a salute and started walking back to his work room.

“Relax, Chill, dude.”

Jay stopped in mid-stride. He sat his mug down on an end table and sank to his hands and knees “Master,” he whispered. He voice faltered as an overwhelming desire to serve convulsed his body.

Ross spread his legs. The fly of his boxer shorts gaped open.

The sight triggered a sequence of actions. Jay sprawled face-down on the floor. He crawled across the room using his forearms and toes to propel himself. The steel studs on the leather harness and jock strap he wore tore tufts of fibers from the carpet, but the normally fastidious Jay ignored the trail of damage he was creating. His body swayed from side to side as he maneuvered himself across the room and came to rest with his face buried in the rug just in front of Ross’s feet. He lifted the leash attached to heavy black leather collar encircling his neck and offered it to Ross.

“Cigar.”

Keeping his face averted—he was never to look at Master—Jay raised his body up just enough so that he could remove a cigar from the humidor. Master’s favorite brand of cigars was expensive. Jay knew because he had to drive into the city every Saturday to purchase them. A week’s supply cost over a thousand dollars. Master was very particular about the cigars he smoked. Master said that Brennan’s was the only shop in the area that stored these cigars at the proper temperature and humidity to keep them fresh. Master didn’t allow him to buy more than a week’s supply because otherwise the cigars would get stale.

As he had been trained, Jay used the cutters to snip the cigar. He had to be careful to make a clean cut so that the end wasn’t frayed—it would be unpardonable for Master to get stray bits of tobacco in his mouth—and to remove just the right amount so that Master could get a good draw on the cigar. Master would punish him if he got it wrong. Indeed, he would deserve punishment if he made a mistake and ruined the cigar.

“Good boy. You love to prepare my cigars, don’t you, boy?”

Jay knew better than to reply. He nodded enthusiastically. It was a privilege to serve. His purpose in life was to serve Master. He felt so good when Master allowed him to serve. Nothing made him feel better than serving Master. Keeping his eyes fixed on Master’s crotch, he raised the cigar in his open palms and presented it to Master.

Master had to light his own cigars because Jay never got it right. Jay heard the sound of Master scrapping the match across the sandpaper and then the whoosh as the match flared. He breathed in the sulfur smell. It was a prelude to the magnificent aromas that would soon surround him. Master waited for a second for the flame to die back a bit and then slowly rotated the tip in the flame. He puffed on it several times until it was just right. He sat back in the chair and took a drag on the cigar. He formed his lips into an O and blew the smoke toward Jay’s head.

Jay felt weak with delight. He loved the smell of Master’s cigars. He loved it when Master blew the smoke in his face. Sometimes when he had been extra good and had pleased Master and earned Master a lot of money, Master would lean over and blow the smoke into his open mouth as a reward.

“Footstool.”

As soon as Master spoke, Jay shifted position so that his back was as level as possible. He dropped his head. Master raised and lowered his legs until his heels rested on Jay’s back. Master leaned back in his chair and continued to smoke.

“How is my next novel coming?”

“Fine, Master. It is 76,000 words now. It will be finished next week.”

“Good. Sales of the last one are beginning to slow. My readers are ready for a new one.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You are following the plot I gave you?”

“Oh, yes, Master. I wouldn’t change that.”

“Good. And I’ll need a MikeX short story for Gay Mind Warp and Nifty and the other sites. Something to pique readers’ interest in the new novel. I’ll give you the outline for that shortly.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Suck.”

Ross lifted his legs off Jay’s back and spread them so that the fly of his boxers gaped open. Jay obediently buried his face in Master’s crotch and sucked Master’s cock into his mouth.

“Just get it hard and keep it in your mouth for now.”

Jay sucked on Master’s cock until it got hard. He had learned how to keep Master erect without stimulating an orgasm. Master liked to have his cock sucked for a long time. It would be wrong to rush Master and give him an orgasm prematurely. In any case, he loved the feel of Master’s hard cock in his mouth. He loved Master’s hot sweaty balls pressing against his chin. He loved Master’s pubic hair scratching his nose and eyelids. He loved Master’s smell. Being allowed to suck Master’s cock was a reward for pleasing Master and obeying him. Sometimes while he was waiting for the command to begin sucking Master in earnest, Master would squeeze out a drop of pre-cum as a reward. Jay loved the way Master’s pre-cum tasted of the cigars he smoked.

Master leaned forward in the chair and began stroking Jay’s right nipple with the fingers of his left hand. Master rested his right hand, the one cradling the cigar, on the back of Jay’s neck.

“Relax and go deeper. Breathe deeply. That’s it. Now hold it. Absorb the smoke into your body. You love the smell of my cigars. The smell of my cigars makes you so submissive. You love it when I stroke your nipples. Your nipples are so sensitive. It feels so good when I stroke them. You feel so good when I reward you for being obedient by stroking your nipples. You love the feel of my cock in your mouth. You crave the feeling of my cock in your mouth. It makes you feel so good when I put my cock in your mouth. My cock is your reward for being obedient. You are so obedient. Master rewards obedient boys. Just relax and focus on the smell of my cigar. Just relax and focus on the wonderful feelings of submission and obedience that fill your mind and body.

“You exist to serve me. Your only thought is to please me. Your only thought is to submit to me. Your only thought is to obey me. My thoughts are your thoughts. My wishes are your wishes. My desires are your desires. You instantly submit. You instantly obey. You are a good boy. Good boys submit. Good boys obey. You are a good boy. You submit. You obey.”

Deep within Jay’s mind, the smoke swirled around him as he floated in a wave of rapture. He felt so wonderful. The smoke, Master’s fingers playing with his nipples, Master’s hand on his neck, the smoke from Master’s cigar filling his lungs, Master’s cock in his mouth—he was a good boy. He submitted. He obeyed. Master’s thoughts were his thoughts. Master’s wishes were his wishes. Master’s desires were his desires. Good boys submitted. Good boys obeyed. He was a good boy. He obeyed. He submitted.

“You will continue to work hard on the new MikeX novel. You will not deviate from the plot outline I gave you. Understood?”

Jay nodded his head. Master’s fingers tightened around his nipple and pinched. It was the right answer. Master was pleased. He was being a good boy. He would work hard on the new MikeX novel. He would not deviate from the plot outline Master had given him.

“Good boy. My readers love MikeX. You love writing the MikeX novels for me, don’t you?”

Jay nodded his head again. Master’s cock surged deeper into his throat. Again he had given the right answer and Master was rewarding him. He was being a good boy. He loved writing the MikeX novels for Master.

Submit to Master. Obey Master. Write for Master. The rewards of obedience overwhelmed his mind. He waited for Master’s next orders. He would do whatever Master commanded. He existed to serve Master.

“Karl will be here soon with the beer. I’m getting six cases today. When he gets here, I want you to let him in and pay him. Give him a $20 tip. Put one case of the beer in the fridge up here and carry the rest of the cases down to the cooler in the basement. Then come back here. You understand? You remember how Karl likes it? You will give him what he likes.”

Jay nodded his head yes. He pressed his face tightly against Master’s groin, taking all of Master’s cock into his mouth. Master took a long draw on his cigar and blew the smoke into his face. He was being a good boy. Master rewarded him when he was being a good boy.

Jay was so intent on servicing Master’s cock that he didn’t hear Karl knocking. Master had to tell him to get the door. He was so embarrassed. He hadn’t been a good boy. He wasn’t serving Master as he was supposed to. He couldn’t look Karl in the eye when he opened the door. The burly deliveryman stacked the cases of beer in the front hallway. By the time Jay had stowed them away and returned to the living room, Karl had already unzipped his pants and was stroking his cock.

Jay knelt and started sucking Master’s cock again. Karl got on his knees behind him. He spat on his cock and gave it a few tugs until it was hard. He slapped Jay across the ass and then guided his cock forward into the crack. Jay lifted his ass until Karl’s cock pushed against his asshole. When Karl felt the slight give of flesh, he rammed his cock in.

Jay squealed. Karl liked it when he squealed. He didn’t care what Karl liked, but Master had told him to do what Karl liked. Jay existed to please Master. Each time Karl thrust his cock into Jay’s ass, Jay moaned. With each thrust, he moaned a little louder. That was the way that Karl wanted him to respond. He didn’t care what Karl wanted, but Master had told him to do what Karl liked, and he existed to please Master.

Without conscious thought, he counted Karl’s strokes. At the hundredth thrust, he grunted and stopped sucking Master long enough to gasp, “Harder. Fuck me harder.” That was all the sign that Karl needed. As Karl assaulted his ass, slamming into him faster and faster, Master put a hand on the back of his head and held his head tightly. He could barely breathe as Master’s cock began plunging into him. He loved it when Master fucked him. He loved serving Master. He loved it when Master spewed his cum down his throat. Master made him feel so wonderful. Each time Karl slammed his groin against his ass, his body snapped forward, pushing Master’s cock deeper and deeper into his throat.

He loved to take Master’s cock deeper and deeper into his throat. He made sure to grunt each time Karl thrust into him. That excited Karl and made him fuck even harder and faster. Karl was a battering ram now, a piston driving Master’s cock deeper and deeper into his body. He loved going deeper and deeper. Karl and he were a sucking machine now. He tightened his lips and mouth around Master’s cock, rubbing his tongue back and forth with each thrust forward.

Behind him, Karl cried out, “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.” Master’s thighs tightened around his head, wedging him in place as Karl’s hammering reached a peak. It felt like Karl was splitting him open and driving Master’s cock even deeper into him. He was pinioned between the two cocks. Karl shuddered and screamed, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Karl’s orgasm drove Jay forward into Master groin and held him there. Master came, shooting load after load of cum into his mouth. He held as still as he could. Master filled him. He didn’t even feel the hot cigar against the skin of his back.

The deliveryman slumped over, his breaths coming in rasping gasps. “Arrrgh. FUUUCK, FUCK, FUCK, Fuuck, Fuck fuck, fuck fu. . , f . . .” His body slowed as he shot the last of his cum. Karl rested his weight on Jay’s body until his breathing slowed. He swallowed several times and then guffawed as he pulled out. “Aw, fuck, Jay, you’ve got a sweet ass. So tight. I love delivering your beer and I really love the way you ‘tip.’ Every time I hear that Mr. J. Ross has put in an order, I make sure that I’m the one who gets to deliver it.” He gave a final slap to Jay’s ass before stuffing his cock back inside his jeans. “I’ll see you again in two weeks. Don’t drink all that beer yourself.”

Jay vaguely heard the sounds of Karl zipping up and leaving. He was in heaven. Master had filled his mouth and throat with cum, and he was waiting for Master to tell him he could swallow it.

“Good boy. You’ve been a very good boy. Now bring me a beer, and then get back to work. You won’t remember anything of what happened. All you will remember is that you came in here to get a cup of coffee, we talked for a few minutes, and then you went back to work. You will think you are wearing clothes again. You will think you are working on your own novel, but you will be working on the MikeX story. You will continue to work until 7:00 o’clock. Then you will come down here again to tip the pizza guy.”

Master took another drag on his cigar. “Now lift your head and open your mouth.”

Jay closed his eyes and raised his chin. Master hadn’t told him to swallow the cum. He would have to hold it in his mouth until Master did. A beatific smile spread across his face as the smoke from Master’s cigar enveloped his head. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue to show Master his mouthful of Master’s gleaming cum.

“Oh, good boy.” Master leaned forward and took a drag on the cigar. The tip of the cigar glowed red through the ash. Jay could feel the heat on his face. Master exhaled directly into his mouth. He drew the smoke gratefully into his throat. Master examined the ash on the end of the cigar and then held the cigar over his upraised mouth and lightly tapped it. A hunk of ash fell onto the pool of cum. “There, now. That will add of bit of flavor. Swallow.”

Jay swallowed. Reluctantly he stood up and retrieved his coffee cup. He enjoyed these breaks from his writing, but work called. He wanted to get a couple thousand more words done before he stopped for the day. A pity that Ross existed only in his imagination. But at least he now had the next sex scene all blocked out. All he had to do was write it down.

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