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Danny Darling Ch. 01

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I was going up the on-ramp of the freeway when the gauges on the dashboard went crazy. Lights were flashing, the needles swung wildly from side-to-side, and suddenly, the power steering was gone. It took all my strength to pull the car over to the shoulder of the road. The engine died and when I turned the ignition key there was nothing.

I sat numbly in the driver’s seat wondering what I should do. Like all manly activities and hobbies, I knew nothing about cars either.

I racked my brain figuring out who to call and became fearful when the realization struck me the only person I knew well enough in town was my landlord Danny. My hands clenched the steering wheel as my body trembled with severe anxiety.

Danny was a pompous, overbearing man who made me extremely nervous. Truth-be-told, he scared me.

I sat there frozen in place, knowing I would have to call him and ask for his help. I pictured his face with the red, bulbous nose and the smug smirk of superiority. I knew he would talk down to me, and make disparaging comments about my masculinity.

I held my cell phone and searched my contact list for his number. I hadn’t programmed it into my phone-he had.

One day I was lounging by the small swimming pool outside the apartment complex. I had just finished speaking with my mother and was about to put the phone away when Danny suddenly appeared and asked what type of phone it was. Before I could answer, he snatched it from my hand and examined it.

“You don’t have my number in here-you probably don’t know how to do it…don’t worry, I’ll do it for you,” he said in his typically snarky way.

As I waited for him to answer my call, I was overcome with a sickening feeling in the pit of my belly-I really didn’t want to talk with him.

Then strangely, the longer it rang, the more I hoped and prayed he would answer. He was truly the only person who could and would help me.

A wave of helplessness washed over me when his phone went to voicemail.

“Danny, this is John,” I said beginning my message. “There’s something wrong with my car—it went dead-I’m on the side of the on-ramp at the Mitchell Avenue entrance to the freeway…c-could you please come and get me-I-I don’t know what else to do…”

Waiting for his call, I stared blankly out the windshield, looking at nothing, cursing my manly incompetence. I hated my father for dying while I was still too young for him to teach me how to be a boy and a man.

I hated him for leaving me alone with a smothering, overbearing mother and two taunting, and hateful sisters.

The ringer on my phone startled me. It was Danny.

“D-Danny, I…” is all I could say before he interrupted me.

I heard his evil chuckle then he said: “I knew a boy like you would be asking me for help sooner or later…I want you to thank me for programming my number into your phone.”

Huh? What did he say?

Then he said, “Well…”

I swallowed hard then said, “Thank you.”

“I want you to speak in complete sentences…explain why you are thanking me,” he said. His voice sounded stern, almost angry.

I was in no position to make him mad.

I said, “Thank you, Danny, for programming your number in my cell phone.”

“That’s better…stay in the car while you wait for me,” he instructed.

“Okay,” I answered.

“Okay what?” he shot back at me.

His tone made me tremble.

“Okay, I’ll stay in the car while I wait for you,” I said meekly.

He said, “Good boy” then ended the call.

I found myself thinking about the phrase Danny had used: “A boy like you…”

It was exactly what I’d heard from my mother over-and-over-and-over.

“A boy like you can’t play football—the real boys would hurt you.”

“If you ever move out of here into your own place—a boy like you needs to learn how to cook and clean and sew.”

The casino siteleri last time she’d said it to me was the worst.

I’d finally managed to save enough money to leave home. I was twenty-one years old, and had worked two jobs since graduating from high school. Moving to an apartment in my home town would do me no good. I would still be living too close to her.

I searched a map of the country and settled on a city in Florida. It was on the Gulf Coast, I liked that, but even better was the fact I would be close to a thousand miles away from my mother.

I expected her to scream and yell and tell me I couldn’t go. Instead, her reaction surprised the heck out of me.

“That’s a wonderful idea, dear,” she said. “You can re-invent your life…you can leave your doubts and inhibitions here and you can become the boy I know deep down that you are…”

I had no clue what she meant by that.

Then she added: “Dear, be very careful! There are many nasty and dirty men out there who would like nothing better than to get their hands on a soft, pretty boy like you!”

I remember blushing and saying, “Mother, I’m not gay!”

A sad smile crossed her face. She winked at me and said, “Of course you’re not, dear.”

I was infuriated. I had to defend my sexuality.

“Mother, you know darn well Tracey and I were going together the last year of high school and when she went away to college I was devastated…later on I met Amy—you said you liked Amy…anyway, you know I spent many nights at her apartment and we didn’t spend those nights cooking and cleaning and sewing, if you know what I mean!”

She replied: “All I said, dear, was to be careful…you don’t know this, but I had a long talk with Amy before she left you…she was very open and frank-she even talked of your bedroom activities in some detail…”

My mother must have seen the shock and horror on my face. I was defeated. She had crushed my spirit one more time.

She quickly added, “You have nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about, dear…all I want is for you to be happy…I am praying you find a partner who knows what a boy like you needs and wants.”

The sound of a car horn woke me from my nightmare. In the rearview mirror I saw Danny’s ten-year old Lincoln Town Car come to a stop behind me.

I climbed out of my car then locked it, and walked back to Danny’s passenger door. I didn’t know what to expect from him. I thanked him the moment I opened the door.

When I was buckled-in, I looked and saw a slight smile on his face. It wasn’t the usual smug smile or smirk; he appeared genuinely concerned he could help.

“I’ve already called my friend Jack-he owns an auto repair business…a tow truck is on the way and he’ll take the car and when Jack finds out what’s wrong he’ll give me a call.”

I thanked him again and the ride home was spent in pleasant conversation. Danny put me at ease and even had me laughing by the time we arrived at the apartment building.

The next day after work, Danny invited me to his place for dinner. I was still leery and skeptical of him, but again, we engaged in spirited conversation. We drank three glasses of wine before we ate and I became relaxed.

He told me that Jack said my alternator went out, and suggested I buy a new battery, as well. Knowing nothing about cars, I nodded my head in agreement and smiled with appreciation.

I described to him my journeys to and from work on the city bus. I called it “my bus rides from hell.”

What used to be a 26-minute drive, was now an hour-and-half. A harrowing ordeal on a packed city bus thru the worst section of town with people who frightened the heck out of me.

I tried to keep my story light-hearted and humorous, and I did get him to laugh a couple times, but I knew he sensed my anxiety.

During dinner he told me stories canlı casino of his youth. I’d never really known how old he was, I guessed he was in his forties, but the references he made of the past caused me to think him being closer to fifty than forty.

I began seeing Danny in a new light. He made me feel relaxed; his sarcasm and caustic remarks were gone. He was actually funny, and intelligent. He could also be quite charming. I really liked the ‘new’ Danny.

Close to the end of the meal there was a lull in the conversation and I suddenly blurted out, “Did Jack say how much the repairs were going to cost?”

After Danny swallowed a mouthful of food he said matter-of-factly, “A little over six-hundred dollars…there are some belts and hoses he thinks should be replaced, too.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood straight and in my mind I shouted HOLY CRAP!!

I’m sure he saw the shock in my eyes because he immediately asked, “Is that going to be a problem for your bank account?”

I was working as a stockboy at Dullard’s Department Store and was earning pennies more than minimum wage and by the time I paid the monthly bills, I had little money left over for anything else.

“Uh, I—uh…I don’t have a bank account—I’m kinda living from paycheck-to-paycheck,” I mumbled.

“Well,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “Jack is one helluva mechanic, but he’s a total asshole when it comes time for him to get paid for his work…he won’t release a vehicle to the owner until he gets the money for it.”

A cloudy mist settled in my eyes. I turned my head so Danny wouldn’t notice. There was no way I could pay six-hundred dollars in cash to get my car back.

He immediately understood my dilemma.

“Johnny, how does this sound to you?” he said. “I will pay for the repairs and you and I will work-out a payment plan!”

“That would be great!” I almost shouted. “What kind of payment plan do you have in mind?”

A smile crossed his lips as he rose from the table and said, “Why don’t you do the dinner dishes and clean-up the kitchen first…then we’ll discuss it.”

I didn’t think anything of it. I always washed and dried the dishes at home for my mom and sisters so this was nothing new to me. Besides, he was going to bail me out of a serious situation-this was the least I could do.

I was busy at work when I smelled smoke. I looked over my shoulder at Danny in the living room. He was sitting on the sofa puffing a big, fat cigar. He looked so peaceful and contented, I smiled.

When I was satisfied with my work, I announced I was finished and started for the living room.

“Johnny, pour us some wine then you may join me on the couch,” he said.

“Oh…yeah, sure Danny,” I replied.

I filled the glasses too full and was afraid I’d spill some wine on my way to him. I walked slowly to him and handed him a glass. He patted the sofa directly beside him motioning for me to sit next to him.

I sat down. He inched closer to me until our legs were touching. That was when my radar went off; then he began stroking my neck, and the back of my head. To my absolute horror, he leaned over and kissed my cheek-my senses were now on full-blown alert.

In a matter of seconds my heart went from happy jubilation to dreaded anticipation. I was pretty sure what sort of payment plan he had devised, and it didn’t involve me giving him any money.

“P-P-Please, Danny,” I cried out. “I’m not that kind of guy-I’m not gay!”

He laughed and said, “We both know what kind of boy you are, Johnny…if you can’t admit it to yourself, well frankly, I don’t give a damn…I’ve wanted you since the day you came into my apartment and signed your lease…and every time I see you strutting that tight little butt of yours inside your tiny gym shorts, well, my dick gets harder than a steel pole.”

I tried to move away from kaçak casino him but his arm around my shoulder held me firmly in place.

He leaned over and placed first his wine glass on the coffee table; then he took mine and did the same. He grasped my small hand and guided it to his crotch. I saw the bulge in his slacks.

He pressed my hand directly on the bulge and manipulated my fingers until they were wrapped around his hardness.

He moved my hand slowly back-and-forth over the entire length of his long, hard prick. I felt it throb in my hand; I couldn’t believe how hot it was even thru the fabric of his slacks.

“Please don’t do this, Danny-please don’t,” I softly whimpered.

“You are a sweet, sweet boy, Johnny-as a matter-of-fact I’m going to call you Sweetie, from now on…”

He began moving my hand faster over his prick. He suddenly let go of my hand, he probably thought I was enjoying it and would continue stroking him on my own. Instead, I leapt from the sofa and quickly made my way to the door.

“JOHNNY,” he called out.

When I turned to look at him I expected to see rage and anger…no, he was wearing a strange little smile on his face instead.

“Sweetie,” he said. “When I’ve paid for your car I’ll bring it here…you’ll see it in the parking lot…I will keep the keys and drive you to-and-from work every day until you have paid me in full…the only thing you have to do is give me handjobs whenever I want one…it’ll probably be only a couple times a day-maybe more-depends on my moods.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Please, Danny, isn’t there any other way? Couldn’t I do work around the building, or clean the pool every day? Dammit, I’M NOT GAY!”

The smile on his face grew bigger and wider.

“Sweetie, I don’t give a rats-ass whether you’re gay or not-all I care about is watching your pretty face while those small, soft hands of yours wrap themselves around my cock and stroke me until I shoot my load.”

I stood in stunned silence. Then I said something I thought I would never say.

“H-How long would this, uh, ‘payment plan’ go on for?”

He laughed out loud; I immediately blushed and felt foolish.

“Oh, let’s say sixty-days…for two-months I’ll allow you the pleasure of holding my cock in your hands and masturbating me until I cum.”

I shook my head and scoffed. “Allow me the pleasure? There won’t be any pleasure in it for me!”

He laughed again and pointed to my crotch.

“Sweetie, your tiny dick is still hard in your pants-I can see from here the big wet stain on the front of your slacks…yes, you will definitely get pleasure from playing with my cock.”

I wasn’t aware of how hard my prick had gotten, and it was still hard as I stood before him. Then I felt the wetness he’d described. The inside of my briefs were sticky with pre-cum, and to my shame, I saw the huge stain on the front of my cream-colored slacks.

I’d never felt such humiliation in my life.

“Sweetie, when you see your car in the parking lot you may return here,” he said.

“I won’t be coming back here until I have the money to pay you, I promise you that!” I said defiantly.

He laughed and said, “And when will that be? A year? Two years? No, I’m quite certain you will be here soon…now listen carefully: when I allow you to enter my apartment the next time, you will address me as ‘Darling’ and you will say: Please, Darling, please allow me to open your pants and take out your manly cock…please let me feel and stroke your cock…I want to make you cum with my hands, Darling…and after I climax and soak your hands with my semen and sperm, you will say: Thank you, Darling, for letting me play with your hard cock—thank you for cumming on my hands.”

I was dumbfounded—he couldn’t possibly be serious! My face was burning red. I turned to leave.

He called out: “Enjoy the bus rides, Sweetie-a boy like you will be very popular in that part of town!”

His laughter echoed in my head as I scurried from the room. I’d never felt such fury and rage in my life.

*****

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