After young boy sucked his friends dicks they banged him from behind

Fancy Man & The Black Lion s Mark

Grateful thanks to Dusk Peterson for superb editing and assistance on all things leather.



**********************



We had a few new faces in the bar that night. Every other week or so they turn up for a peek creeping in meekly on rare occasions with a bravado swagger. My friend Robbie the bartender would call them desperate. I think they re pretty courageous.



There they are often dressed uncomfortably in tight jeans and a tee shirt they hope displays their muscles to their best advantage. Once inside they look like they re holding their breath as if they ve just dived into shark infested waters. It s their first time in a leather bar and they re scared shitless.



Hey they ve a lot to fear. Most of them haven t left the closet and even if they have they don t want their kinky secret getting out. We may live in a city but it s a small and fairly conservative city. Word does get around. You can imagine the nightmares these guys have: they ll live out their darkest fantasy only to go to work the next day and find a picture of themselves on all fours and wearing a studded leather harness as the new office screensaver. One asshole with a camera phone is all it takes.



And yet they still step through those doors.



They re scared as well that someone like big black me is going to take advantage of them. Rob or abuse them. I m a stranger and they re going to be putting themselves bound and gagged in some cases into my massive hands.



And they still step through those doors.



Robbie would say it s the need and he s right. You see it in their eyes. They ve thought about it jerked off about it searched the internet for help and answers. They ve wept in despair over it. They need to play that role to satisfy that pornographic dream. So they step through those doors risking everything to have it to have it just once and know if it really is what they want. It s desperation. But it s also very brave of them.



Among the new faces that night was an older guy. He couldn t have been more than 5 6 in height silver mane of hair and one of those hound-dog faces older men get bags under lost hazel eyes. He wore a gray suit that wasn t cheap but it wasn t tailored either. It hung on his thin frame as if he were a hanger. Stepping in he didn t quite hold his breath but his eyes flicked side to side and he made for a shadowed booth like a fish darting into a coral reef.



Now maybe in your leather bar there s a wide range of ages but in our modest dive we just don t get that many grandfathers. We ve a few middle-aged gents and sometimes a daddy from some great metropolis will arrive to regale us his country cousins with stories of real leather bars and what it was like back when tops were tops and bottoms were on the bottom. But for the most part men over fifty are a rarity.



Not that any of us regulars made a big deal of it. We all noticed of course but we pretended not to. Robbie went over to put down a napkin and ask the old guy what he was having. I finished off my beer and watched in the bar mirror a little curious. The man kept his hands laced together his body huddled as far back in the booth as he could get. Robbie fetched him a scotch on the rocks.



I lost interest and went back to scoping the room. The Cockpit or just The Pit actually got its name honestly. A grounded airline pilot opened it back in the 70 s. Two-and-a-half decades later he died and his widow carried on until this part of town became trendy and gay. Then she sold it to Nash a crusty top who smokes with a cigarette holder and has his nails manicured every Thursday. Serendipity Nash likes to call it. He wanted to open a leather bar and there the Cockpit was up for sale. With a name like that it had to be right.



The dГ©cor of the Pit is pretty much as it was the day it opened: light oak wood paneling western style bar stools and an island bar. Nash removed a lot of the tables but not the orange vinyl booths that stud the far wall. Above these booths are photos of forgotten airline crews pilots in starched gold buttoned uniforms or bomber jackets stewardesses wearing brightly colored mini-skirts little caps on their hair-sprayed do s. They smile earnestly from the glossy snapshots young and living out their dreams.



Those who aren t prowling restlessly round the watering hole or offering themselves up as prey by hugging the walls feed the jukebox play pool or talk earnestly in booths. We haven t any back room or dungeon. The point of coming here is to either hang or take someone home. This means everyone is scoping and being scoped. On the being-scoped end me especially. There are other tops at The Pit but not one of them can match me in size or color. I m 6 4 of pure sculpted muscle and teakwood brown from shaved head to big toe. Add to that my typically Afrocentric features: wide mouth arrowhead nose almond eyes and you ve got the guy from every downtown-blue cop show you ve ever watched. There s me as scary guy in the holding cell and there I am playing rapper with gun. Oh and there s my Shakespearian performance as a defiant gangbanger ( I ain t tellin you nothin !).



A white boy comes into the bar takes one look at me (and believe me I m the first thing he locks eyes on always) and gets what I like to call Tyrone Syndrome. That means he doesn t see me nor does he see another gay man or even a man at all. He sees a big black cellmate. A big black cellmate who s going to make his life exquisite hell. I swear guys have creamed their nice new jeans just looking at me. Such is the power of the imagination.



In leather terms I am the belle of the ball. All night every night. The decision of who gets to be on my dance card who Tyrone is going to fuck up the ass is all up to me. There s only one problem. I don t much like playing Tyrone the big black cellmate. Which means that sometimes when there s no other choice I do go home alone.



Trying to decide whose heart you re going to break? asked Robbie that night.



I don t break hearts I said. I break cocks.



And sometime I m going to ask you to let me watch. Robbie the Cockpit s primary bartender looks like a leprechaun on steroids. A cute leprechaun. He s short with red hair a boyish face and freckles galore. But he s a powerhouse from the neck down. When he s not tending bar he works as a personal trainer at a downtown gym.



Non-regulars find Robbie confusing. They hit on him with all their might but he just remains friendly and disinterested. What they don t know is that Robbie s in the wrong bar. He s got no interest in beating anyone s ass or having a collar around his neck. What Robbie wants is a bed scattered with rose petals a candle-lit dinner and a warm oil massage.



Why aren t you tending bar down at The Stardust? I once asked him. That s the bar where guys slow-dance to love songs and order up champagne for their one-month anniversaries.



Are you fucking kidding me? he laughed. I tried that. It was a disaster. I fell in love every other night and got fired for mooning over customers instead of pouring drinks. Here s a null temptation. I can do my job. Chat folks up keep the beer glasses full. Besides you sad fuckers need me.



I liked Robbie. And someday maybe for his birthday and if I m absolutely certain it won t hurt his romantic soul I ll put on a tux and give him his fantasy for a night.



That s what I do. What I get off on. Giving men their fantasies. It s why I m called the Fancy Man. Not like in natty dresser but rather flights of fancy. The name use to be Fantasy Man but that didn t scan. I ll explain later.



I m an actor. I love acting. I was the kid who drove my parents nuts by always being in the land of pretend every minute every hour of the day. I never wanted to be in the real world. When I hit my teens rather than giving up pretend I went into drama. My one wish is to be given great parts. Unfortunately most directors aren t interested in casting me as Uncle Vanya.



Othello maybe but they just don t want me for Ibsen or Chekhov or Shaw.



And we know how I ll end up if I ever try to get into television or movies: I ain t tellin you nothing!



Which is why most of the acting I do is voice. Commercials animation documentary voice-overs. I can pitch my voice down to a deep bass or up to a whispering lisp and with voice acting I can play roles no one would give me in a million years: a kindly old doctor a woodland elf a British butler the kid sidekick.



It s a little harder to get the same kind of range in my sex life. I don t think the guys who take me home understand just how desperately willing I d be to play other roles. Just hand me a good idea and I ll set the stage and create the costumes. I ll make it real.



But all I ever get from most of them is the plea to play Tyrone the cellmate. It can make me pretty depressed if I think on it too long and hard.



Terry s been edging his way towards you Robbie said now. Did you notice? I guess it didn t work out between him and that other guy.



God not Terry. Not tonight. Terry was into fraternity hazings. He liked to cast me as the black bullying frat brother which involved me paddling his ass and then ordering him to jerk off. Only he took forever to cum when he did that. He made me want to read the newspaper. Unprofessional as it was I sometimes did.



Carl then? Al? Robbie was ragging on me. Carl s role for me was that of motorcycle pack leader and with him as the wannabe who d just fucked up my bike. The fantasy was for me to make him pay for that mistake till he cried. Blubbered actually. Al s fantasy is that of lowly private with me as the brutal drill sergeant. Unfortunately he has this squeak to his voice which when he barks Yes sir! can be like nails on a chalkboard. Then again he did have a good ass and I could always gag him.



I don t mean to make these boys sound like losers. They re hardworking stand-up guys and darn good-looking come to that. And while they may have started out as all my fuck-buddies do scared and awed of me we re friends now. We watch football games together celebrate each other s birthdays…. That in fact is how I got my name if a brother may digress….



It was some eight months ago my birthday and Robbie had just brought out this cake alight with candles when suddenly those very three guys stepped forward put their arms around each other and started singing to the Candy Man tune:



Who can take a wet dream Sprinkle it with piss… Whip and beat and burn us And then make it better with a kiss? The Fancy Man can! Oh the Fancy Man can!



Brought tears to my eyes. Not one of them white boys can carry a tune in a bucket.



Anyway that s how I got my name and that s my reputation. When a man takes me home he doesn t just get the big black man he gets the fantasy in living color and with special effects. I deliver.



You are one mopey fuck tonight Robbie said as he pulled beers on tap. You could stand up right now say Who will suck my cock? and everyone in this room would take a number. And those at the end of the line would cry. Yet you re sitting here in a funk?



How to explain? It sounded so drama queen to say that I was tired of playing the same old roles that I was an artist and wanted…needed a chance to put on a real play. Something that excited me. Something for Christ s sake that wasn t just going to get a man s rocks off. If I have to be the fantasy then just once I wanted to be one that transformed that inspired.



I mean my God Robbie was still going on Grandpa over there would probably hock his bifocals for a glimpse of your dick. You want to be gloomy just imagine yourself in his place. He s never going to get what he wants.



Hm? Who? I wasn t quite paying attention.



The scotch drinker. He s hasn t taken his eyes off you.



I peered into the curving mirror behind the bar. The silver-haired gent was fixated on me. In fact he was gazing at me with a kind of hopeless hope that was positively heart rending.



I think he s in love Robbie shook his head at the sad sad thought of a doomed romance. Too bad his fantasy won t ever get fulfilled.



Who says it won t?



Robbie s ginger colored brows shot up. You re joking.



I shrugged. I was strangely intrigued and that embarrassed me. You re the one said I should imagine myself in his place. Well I am. One day I could be like him. Can t stay young and beautiful forever.



I can Robbie grinned. I have faith in the future of plastic surgery.



Still. I d like to think what goes around comes around. Maybe when I get to be his age some young stud will grant me a wish or two.



I stood up. Robbie s mouth fell open. You re serious?



I winked at him. I wasn t really sure I was going to go through with it but a fey mood had come over me. It was long past time I shook things up.



Cocks quivered and came to attention as I stepped away from the bar. Would they be the one to get me tonight? It only took a few steps to reach the booth. I heard gasps of disbelief whispers as I slid in beside the old man. Very satisfying.



The silver-haired gent jerked his head up eyes widening as if a killer whale had just found his hiding place. For one moment I thought he was going to have a heart attack. Most men don t realize what a hulk I am till I m in their space gazing down at them. My massive shoulders nicely displayed by a gray ribbed tank took up half of the booth. His sharp Adam s apple bobbed.



You were looking my way I observed.



Yes sir he murmured.



Three guesses which one of us was going to be the top. For one quick moment I amused myself by envisioning the old man standing over me barking orders. Ha. Fat chance.



He didn t apologize or demur. He just waited as if he d already given up on escaping whatever punishment I was going to meter out.



So you re interested in me?



I…beg your pardon?



Mason I touched on my chest. And you are?



L-Leo.



Well Leo I m about to grant your wish. Whatever that wish may be.



His hazel eyes blinked and he took a sip of his scotch. The ice rattled in his glass and the liquor spilled over the napkin as he brought it down. Young man he said faintly I know…I know how very out of place I am here. Please don t make fun of me.



What if I m serious?



He shook his head as if that wasn t possible and started to scoot out of the booth. I set my hand down on his wrist not hard but he froze. There was regret on his face now and misery. He thought I was going to keep him here until I and probably a few of my friends finished humiliating him.



I only torture people in the bedroom I told him. Are you really going to pass this up Leo? You came in here looking for someone to fulfill a fantasy didn t you? Or did you think this was just a regular bar?



No. I-I knew what this place was…is. His eyes slid away. I ve been hoping…thinking about coming into a bar like this for decades. Decades he confessed with sad wonder.



What made you finally do it? I asked.



My sister passed away. She was the only family I had left.



I m sorry.



S kay. He took in a breath. You see when I was your age we kept everything secret in the dark. I was convinced that I had to wait till…till no one but me would be shamed by my conduct. By my coming to a place like this. Now it s too late. Everything I wanted is outdated. Old-fashioned.



Damn. How that must have been I thought to drift like a phantom through the world feeling alive only in flashes when sucking off anonymous men in movie theatres and alleys. A life like that holding to your fantasies like childhood toys waiting for the day when you might come out and play in the open. And then finally decades later that day comes. Only when you look around and see all the youngsters there you realize that you re obsolete archaic. No one s going to want to play with you and your outmoded toys. The best you figure you can hope for is to gaze at bodies still fresh and firm and imagine what it would be like to play with them…and have them play with you.



Well fuck that. Fuck if I was going to let Leo be satisfied with that.



Come on I urged him getting out of the booth and pulling gently at his arm. You re taking me home.



Leo looked ready to balk but you don t argue with Tyrone. He had enough presence of mind to fumble money for the scotch out of his billfold and then he let me lead him. I don t think he d have known how to resist even if that were possible.



Behind us I heard nothing but the music from the jukebox. Glancing back I saw mouths agape. I saw Carl and Al looking to Robbie for help wondering if they should tackle me because clearly I d lost my mind.



Mason they screamed with their eyes are you really going home with that?



I touched my middle finger to my brow a salute of sorts and laughed. Whatever else happened it had been worth it just to see their faces.



We came out into the glare of streetlamps the flow of pedestrians on their way to restaurants and movie theatres. I stopped us at my car so I could get my kit a leather satchel filled with accoutrements in case Leo didn t have any toys at home.



I think he was mollified by the fact that I drove a Scion.



#



Leo drove a hybrid. It was a cramped. Most cars are for me and I always have to watch my head. But I liked how quiet it was. Leo didn t say anything he just drove white knuckled and sometimes glanced over at me.



I m not sure if he was afraid I d disappear or if he was hoping I d disappear. Likely both. Finally we got to his house a small bungalow affair with a carport.



He kept looking back at me as he led the way up to the front door. He couldn t reconcile the incongruity of a muscled black giant being on his street let alone being withhim. He fumbled and dropped the keys. It took three tries for him to get the door open. He let me in then rushed around turning on lights.



Excuse me he muttered I h-have t-to— He gestured and I nodded. Of course he had to use the bathroom. It s a wonder the man hadn t peed in his pants. I saw him dart in and shut the door.



While Leo eased his bladder and splashed water on his face I took a gander. I like to get to know my environment see what I have to work with. It was one of those modest homes once described as belonging to confirmed bachelors. Low cottage-cheese ceilings a galley kitchen and breakfast nook a square den with a sliding door that opened up onto a tiny back porch. The place was neat as a pin the furnishings in browns and golds a little worn but not without a certain deco style. There were potted palms in the corners and watercolors on the walls all by the same artist. Imaginary Shangri-La scenes of tropical gardens and lost ruins. Some featured fantastic jungle cats.



The place smelled of paint and cleaning products.



C-can I get you anything? Leo asked reappearing from the bathroom.



Water I said checking out the rest of the place. There were two bedrooms the smaller one was filled with art books a great many of them on male models. There were also books on Africa and tribal masks. There were canvasses folded easels a drafting table colored pencils ink pens and coffee cans stuffed with paintbrushes.



I came back into the living room as Leo deferentially handed me my water. Did you paint all these? I asked motioning to the watercolors.



Yes. That s…what I do. Not paintings. I m a commercial artist. Cereal boxes magazine covers. These I do for myself.



They re good. They had a vintage poster style that I liked very much.

Leo had also handed me his trust. Of everyone in that bar he d had the most to fear from me. Yet he hadn t tried to escape out the bathroom window or called the police. He d let me tie his hands strip him naked take charge of his darkest secret. Me. The big black man you d cross the street to avoid who would make you flip the locks on your car doors at a stoplight.



That kind of trust was beyond price. It touched and humbled me.



And last last we have what he d just done to my cock. I d never once imagined that Leo would be able to get me off. I d thought truth to tell that I d have to help him along jerk him maybe. But you know what? I ve been sucked by some of the best looking motherfuckers in this city and Leo…I would place Leo in the top five.



I am so not shitting you.



Sometimes I step back from myself and I see a real asshole. Arrogant and full of himself. This was one of those times. I d typecast Leo as badly as he had me. This all might have been a game of pretend but Leo had proven himself a real hero. Given half-a-chance he could do a man a world of good. Even the Fancy Man.



So. Time for Fancy Man to return the favor. I caught my breath and composed myself.



White man I said and had to clear my throat because I d completely lost the regal voice. Leo rested there on his knees his eyes dreamy. There was great pride and satisfaction on his face. He knew he d gotten this part right in every particular.



You ve passed every test done all that we asked I said reaching for the open jar of red paint. I dipped my finger into it.



This is the blood of the black lion I said following the script directly this time our god and sacred animal. With this I make you one of us. The blood of our tribe now flows in you.



I marked his face to look just like that of the blond guy on the cover. Leo s eyes glistened and I heard him gulp as if swallowing down tears. I pulled up his right arm and dipped another finger into the black paint. I m no artist and I knew it wouldn t look like the cover art but I made a circle on his shoulder and added five strokes over it the best imitation of the claw symbol I could manage.



This is so that all will know you belong to the Black Lion and his tribe. From now on you will be known as White Leopard kin and tribesman. You are brother to any who bear this mark and may call on them in need as they may call on you. Serve your people well White Leopard.



I-I will sire he whispered powerfully moved.



I cleaned my fingers in the water-filled basin then I grabbed the lube and slipped around behind him. I lubed up my palms and crouched down. Reaching about I took hold of his cock with one hand. It rose out of its sheath immediately as if summoned by its master.



He drew in a breath as I began to stroke him.



I am your king I whispered in his ear inhaling that lilac aftershave of his. I slipped my other hand down between his ass cheeks found his sphincter and let my lubed finger circle it. He groaned and shifted into a kneeling crouch that was unconsciously or no identical to the posture of the white hero on the cover.



He was held between the Otawa s two great hands a willing captive the black king s white subject and servant.



This is your rite of initiation I said speeding up my strokes on his hardening cock. Only the king of the tribe can do this.



Sire— he moaned. He was holding with his thin hands to my muscled arm. His cock was engorged and pulsing. I let the finger rimming his hole slip in. He made that strangled cry again as if he couldn t believe what was happening to him what he was feeling.



I d kept him on the edge all night I expected him to cum fast and he did. I d barely started moving my finger in and out of his anus when he went stiff. His cock twitched and spasmed and suddenly he was shouting and shooting his cream all over the bathroom tiles.



He gasped and shivered and gasped again sinking into my arms as I released him. Initiation s over I thought.



I let him rest against me there in my lap till his breathing quieted and he stopped trembling. Then I kissed him on the cheek. Tarzan Leo. How was that?



He blinked at me in blind wonder his dear old hound-dog face still marked with red lines. A breath. Two. Then tears welled up in his eyes and he began to cry. He bawled like a baby for nearly half an hour while I sat and rocked him in my lap.



#



We got the paint cleaned off our faces. I dressed and Leo put his trousers back on. He offered to drive me but I told him I d catch a bus on back to the Cockpit s parking lot. I wanted to leave him to his bed and contemplations.



Is there…anything I can give you? he finally asked as I finished packing up my kit.



I do this because I like doing it Leo. And hard as it may be for you to believe I got as much enjoyment out of it as you did. It was true. Leo would probably never know how much I owed him for the evening.



I don t think that s possible he murmured. He was still floating probably would be for days.



Would you he added walking me to the door happen to know of a good tattoo artist?



My brows went up. There s a place on 4th and Main. Ask for Mike. From what I hear he s the best.



Thanks. Leo touched on the faux black lion mark still on his shoulder. He d refused to wash that off.



Oh I said with a grin. Good idea. I opened the door. Then I thought about it.



…it s too late. Everything I wanted is outdated Leo had said at the beginning of our evening. To my shame I d thought the same thing. I d assumed I d show him a little charity give him his obsolete fantasy. Then we d both go back to our places me to the spotlight he to the shadows.



I d assumed wrong.



There was no way I was going back to playing the same old roles not after what I d had tonight. And fuck if I was going to let Leo gutter out like a candle. A real king I thought fiercely wouldn t let that happen to one of his subjects.



I turned to face him. Actually there is something you can do for me.



Anything he said and I knew he was finally speaking to me. Mason.



I put a hand on his shoulder. You went through the trials and I initiated you with my own hands. The blood of the Black Lion flows through your veins now and forever. So there s no going back to being who you were. Do you understand me?



He blinked his red eyes and swallowed several times. He was still very fragile. Yes sire.



You re a member of the tribe now. If one of your brothers is in need you have to help. Don t shirk your duty just because you re afraid they won t accept what you have to offer.



He mused on that translating it. Knowing that the king himself has faith in me he said at last makes all the difference. The hazel eyes met mine. I won t fail you.



I know you won t. I bent to give him a kiss on the lips. Then I stepped out and shut the door behind me.



#



Leo came by the Cockpit a few weeks later. He was too shy to step in but when I heard that an older gent was asking for me I stepped right out.



We hugged and he showed me his new tat. It looked just like the beautifully stylized mark on the magazine cover. He grinned like a little boy as he proudly displayed his shoulder.



He didn t return to the Pit I think he s gotten all he d needed from it. Instead he hung out at other bars went to lectures and plays exploring the secret kingdom he d found. One day I saw him seated at an outdoor table at a popular cafГ©. He was in the company of a balding black gentleman with a bit of paunch. Leo was leaning in to fondly wipe crumbs from the fellow s beard. He looked happy.



I wondered if his companion was willing to wear a dishtowel breechclout. He d better be I thought. Or I ll kick his ass.



The regulars at the Pit wanted to know what had happened between me and the silver-haired gent of course but they re aware of my policy. I never kiss and tell. So they stayed in the dark mostly until one day…



Hey Fancy Man Robbie greeted me as I came in. It was a Saturday afternoon. Carl and Al and Terry were there watching baseball on one of the bar s two televisions.



This came for you Robbie said and he brought out a large cardboard delivery tube.



For me? I echoed checking it out. It was addressed only to Mason c/o the Cockpit etc.



That s one hell of a dildo Mason Al laughed as the guys wandered up to the bar to refresh their beers.



Will you use it on me pretty please Fancy Man? Terry asked.



Only if you really beg for it I smiled and popped open one end of the tube. I peered in. No dildo. Something was rolled up in there. I shook it out. Then brought it over to one of the tables.



I let it unfurl. It was a poster-sized canvass painting.



Whoa Robbie breathed. They don t do art like that anymore.



No. They certainly did not. It looked to be the cover of an old pulp magazine stunningly beautifully rendered. There was an exotic Shangri-La landscape all in vivid greens and golds including a misty kingdom in the background. In the foreground was a young white man slender with longish blond hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing a white leopard skin breechclout and cape. A black stylized claw symbol marked his right shoulder.



He was kneeling in the grass. The homoeroticism of his appearance and poise was subtle but unmistakable.



Wonder what he s got under that leopard skin Carl murmured and the guys chuckled.



Something impressive and tasty I thought.



Behind and above the man posed on a rock was a magnificent black lion with a heavy windswept mane. The fine musculature of the beast had been delineated in blues and white fangs were bared in a defiant growl. The cat spoke of courage and heart emblematic it seemed of the young man s spirit and sexuality.



So who is he? Robbie asked me.



He s a pulp hero. A white guy who finds this secret jungle kingdom and becomes part of a mysterious tribe. This I smiled this is from the sequel where he travels around the kingdom having all sorts of adventures.



Bet you hate that clichГ© Robbie said to me. White man as hero of the jungle. With the black man just there to help.



It s a very outdated stereotype I agreed.



So why would someone send you this?



Because I fancied him.



Robbie frowned. The artist? Or he nodded at the white youth in the picture him.



Both I said gazing at the painted young man kneeling in the grass. Kneeling in homage to his king.



I m the Fancy Man. If you see me and you re worried that I m not going to notice you because of your age or looks think again. If you ve got a fantasy that interests me I might just grant it. I might just bring it to life.



And I might just bring you to life too.

He blushed. Thank you.



I settled onto the couch and waved for him to do the same. It s an odd thing this relationship I end up having with those I pick. It s their house but they act as if it were mine they start to look to me for every little direction. Leo obediently settled as far from me as he could get but kept leaning forward as if I were a magnet. I noticed that he was wearing some lilac scented aftershave. His shoes were polished his nails were clean. It occurred to me that he might have gotten spruced and dressed up for tonight s visit to the Cockpit. That the reason the house was so spic-n -span was because he d held some forlorn hope of bringing someone home.



I wondered what he thought he d net. Certainly not me.



You doing okay? I asked.



That got a faint laugh. I m a wreck. I can t believe this.



And you can t stop wondering why I m here. Look you re scared of me. And you should be. I m young and I m huge and you don t know me. But I promise I m not here to steal anything or hurt you. You couldn t keep your eyes off me because you ve got a fantasy one that involves a big black man. One you ve been jerking off to since…? I left off waiting for him to fill in the blank.



Since I was fourteen he admitted.



Shit. I hope I didn t have to wait that long to have my most desperately held fantasy fulfilled. Sounds like you re way overdue then.



He licked dry lips. If you…if you mean what you say…if you do this for me…you can have what you like. Rob me blind. I ll give you my credit card and ATM number—



Shut that down right now I snapped. I am not a thug.



Sorry! I m sorry! he back-pedaled I didn t mean—I m just…nervous. Very nervous.



My temper doesn t surface often. I can do real damage if I strike out so I ve learned to maintain a sense of humor. But I was irked. Haven t you been listening to anything I ve been saying?



I didn t mean to offend you! Please don t be mad. Leo was visibly panicked. His cultural stereotyping had finally pissed me off and that put him into a terrible quandary. His fantasy contained just such typecasting. Hell I knew it had to. You don t pick out the big black man to play Maria von Trapp in The Sound of Music. Given what Leo had said in the bar we were probably looking at some very dated and offensive caricatures nothing PC about them. To risk being mocked for his fantasy was hard enough for Leo. He didn t want me angry as well.



The pain in his eyes brought my temper back down. Had to remember that the poor man was a virgin at this.



Listen I said quietly I ve got this friend. A lawyer. Specializes in sexual discrimination cases. Instances where women have been paid less than men for doing the same job or haven t gotten an equal chance at management positions. There is nothing and I mean nothing he is more sincerely passionate about than equal rights for women. He will rage for hours on the injustices done to women and how much better the world would be if they were running it. His wife s a chemistry professor and he s proud as can be that she s smarter than he is. But—



I paused dramatically. Leo was leaning in. All ears.



But I said again every now and then he calls the wife and asks for a special evening. When he gets home she greets him at the door in a fifties style Father-Knows-Best gown. Stockings garter belt no underwear—and don t ask me how I know that. Let s just say people tell me things they d never tell their mothers.



Leo nodded his understanding.



She welcomes him home takes his coat helps him on with slippers and smoking jacket dusts the furniture and serves him dinner. One of the dishes is always burned. Deliberately. The potatoes or the macaroni. He expresses his disappointment in her failure of wifely duties and spanks her for it. Which leads to great sex under the table or in the bedroom.



I took in a breath. Leo was wide-eyed. He wasn t naГЇve at least I didn t think he was but perhaps he d only read about such things never suspected that respectable lawyers his neighbors even might be doing it.



The moral of the story is this I said. Stereotypes are bad. They imprison people in boxes and lead to terrible injustices. But when it comes to erotic role-playing they can be very useful. Maybe even essential. I understand that. I won t be insulted by the part you want me to play. But you re going to do me a favor right here and now. You re going to look at me and you re not going to see a big black man. You re going to see a gay man just like you.



Yes sir he said. His gaze fastened on me and he tried to do as I asked. But I could tell that he still wasn t seeing me. He was not however seeing a big black man in that I was wrong. He was he would later tell me seeing me as I d been in the bar: the crown prince the star quarterback. With a snap of my fingers I could have him banished forever or welcomed in. I could change his life.



I m sure at that moment that he d have rather seen me as a thug. Far less frightening.



All right I said. It was time to set up the rules. Here s how this is going to work. We do your fantasy and afterwards nothing gets said about it not by me. Not unless you give me permission. So you don t have to worry about anyone ever hearing of this.



His face relaxed. So he d been worried about that.



If at any time I went on things feel like they re going very wrong you get really scared or unhappy then we stop it. But understand this is my show. I m the director. No argument. You go with it or you stop it but you don t tell me how to do it. Are we agreed?



Yes sir.



Good. Then let s hear this fantasy that s been enthralling you since puberty.



He licked his lips again and rubbed sweaty palms down his pants legs. Here it was the moment of truth. He could ask me to leave or he could trust me. Trust me with his deepest darkest secret.



Desperation? I don t think so. Maybe that s why I like to fulfill such fantasies because that kind of courage deserves a reward.



He got up and made for his office. I heard a lot of shuffling and searching. He finally returned with a book-sized magazine in a protective plastic bag. He stopped in front of me like a schoolboy before a teacher and held it out. I ve never seen anyone s hands shake that badly.



I took it blinked at it. Then blinked again. Leo I said I don t want to hurt your feelings by laughing but do you mind if I smile?



He blew out a chuckle and I took that as permission. I grinned bigger and wider than I had in a long long time.



It was a pulp magazine. Likely Leo had read the original as a boy over and over until it had fallen to pieces. In adulthood unable to forget it he had searched used bookstores and garage sales for a fresh copy. I could imagine how his heart had thumped with joy when he d found it again his holy grail. I was guessing that he now had several copies. This one was probably bought from a collector. It was in pristine condition.



The cover featured a rugged blond hero shirtless of course trousers ripped to pieces so he was hardly clothed at all. His bare back was crisscrossed with whip marks. He was in a jungle setting hemmed in on all sides by black natives wearing animal skins and holding spears.



Foremost among these the jewel in the crown as it were was their king a mighty giant of a black gent in a leopard skin breechclout and cape. His majesty was gazing down at our kneeling hero like a god on high.



It was a stunningly wrought cover. How sad that the artist who had worked so hard who had put so much personal effort into this painting was now long forgotten. Or not. Leo had never forgotten his work. But then the cover was so transparently homoerotic. This was probably the closest that young Leo had gotten to gay porn. The white guy s gaze was I suppose meant to be proud and defiant but it looked awed and worshipful instead. He was kneeling with his head at exactly the right level as if waiting for that great jungle king to lift his breechclout and honor the beaten white man with his (of course) big black cock.



Had the artist like Leo only had this as a way to fulfill his sexual fantasies a bit of paint and canvas?



I gave the picture a closer examination checking out the details getting ideas. The blond bedraggled white man had red tribal lines painted on his face similar to the white ones marking the natives. He also had a black symbol on his bare shoulder a claw/paw print.



The title of the story represented by the picture: The Mark of the Black Lion.



May I read it? I asked Leo. He d been standing by patiently this whole time. He nodded his head eagerly.



I m a fast reader and even if I weren t I only needed to flip through the pulpy story to get the idea. The tall tale concerned a white man s trials and tribulations in the secret mysterious Valley of the Black Lion. It was bigoted as hell but highly entertaining.



This could be fun I thought. And there were at least two parts for me to play which I liked.



I hope you don t expect me to follow this script word-for-word I murmured scanning the cheesy dialogue.



Oh no Leo breathed. Do anything…anything you want.



Which was exactly the right thing to say. The man was learning. I absorbed the style and cadence of the archaic B-movie speeches thought about ways to translate events memorized a few important lines. Then I closed the mag and slipped it back into its protective plastic. My creative juices were flowing. I m going to need twenty minutes or so to set up I told him.



You…you ll do it?



Leo you could not tear me away from this. You go into your bedroom. Find a shirt that you were thinking of throwing out one that you re never going to wear again. Also a pair of pants that are as close as you have to something safari like. No underwear. No socks. No shoes.



Yes sir.



You don t come out till I say so.



No sir. Poor Leo was in that dazed it s-really-going-to-happen-to-me state. Well so long as he did what I told him. He left for the bedroom and I got to work.



I kicked off my shoes and socks then searched through my kit for rope and a riding crop. Also a bottle of lube and a small knife. For the rest I used what was around the house. I found a dozen unused kitchen tiles and put them on a cookie sheet. I put the oven on low. The cookie sheet and tiles went in.



I found jars of red white and black watercolor paint and set them up in the bathroom along with some tea candles matches a throw pillow and the lube. I stoppered the basin and filled it with water. While I was in there I filched tweezers from the cabinet. These along with some paint brushes and a shoebox that I cut in half and poked with holes went into the den.



There was a coat rack on one of the walls. I removed umbrellas sweaters coats a hat measured the height of the hooks. They looked to be about right and fairly sturdy.



By now my energy was up and I was feeling more excited than I d been in well a year at least. I moved potted palms into the tub to complete my jungle scenery and then done came close to clapping my hands and bouncing on my toes.



Dishtowels. I thought suddenly. Dishtowels. I found a pile knotted together four of them and folded the last for a blindfold.



Was that everything? Yes. I adjusted the lights cutting them down till the room was mostly in shadow. This was more for me than Leo to maintain the mood. My heart was pounding and I actually had butterflies in my stomach. Here we go I thought striding up to Leo s bedroom door. I knocked politely.



He threw open the door. He was dressed in an old paint-splattered undershirt that exposed his wiry arms and equally paint-splattered safari-green trousers. His bare feet were long and boney the toes curling into the carpet. He tried to peer past me into the living room but I knew it was too dark for him to see anything. I wondered what he d thought of all the sounds I d been making. He was pale and there was sweat on his upper lip. His hands twisted as he gazed up at me. I was almost a foot taller than him and without his suit he looked pretty small.



Put out your hands I told him holding up the rope. It was a soft white cord that wouldn t leave marks. I didn t mean to tie it that tightly anyway.



His throat bobbed and he obediently stretched forth his arms. I wrapped the rope about his wrists and knotted it. Then I brought out the blindfold.



Once I put this on we start I let him know. Have you heard of safe words?



He nodded. I honestly don t think he was capable of speaking at that moment.



Okay. Anytime you feel things have gone too far and you want it all to stop you yell out Tarzan. That good for you?



He laughed. It was a nervous laugh but I was very glad of it. I didn t want him to take this too seriously. Not that it wasn t important. It was very important. Maybe the most important thing that had ever happened to him. But it s always good to keep a healthy perspective on role-playing. And honestly this was a pretty ridiculous story we were about to enact.



You ready? It was my final and last time asking him. After this I d be in control. And he…he d be at my mercy.



Y-yes sir he managed as if he realized as well that he needed to make his consent clear.



I came around and knotted the folded dishtowel about his eyes making sure it was comfortable and that he couldn t see. He touched at it tentatively. I took hold of the rope about his wrists and pulled him forward.



Come white man I dropped my voice to a growl. He jumped. I guess nothing could have really prepared him for my sudden switch into character. There is no escape I added mockingly from the Valley of the Black Lion!



I dragged him over to the wall hooks. I hoped they were well secured. I grabbed his arms put them over his head and hauled him up on tiptoe to get the rope over the hook. As I d hoped he was able to come down on his heels once it slipped over but his arms were stretched high above his head.



You wanted to meet our king you said. Well you will have your chance. Here he comes. I stepped back to quickly slip off my jeans and gray tank. I wanted to make sure that if Leo happened to touch me he d feel near-naked jungle native not twenty-first century textiles.



I left on my briefs for now. I didn t want him accidentally touching my cock. Not yet.



Cupping a hand about my mouth I called out The King comes! All bow to King Otawa ruler of the Black Lion tribe!



Leo twitched as I stomped forward. He didn t smile or laugh as others might have but it was clear that he wasn t into the fantasy yet. He was still on that edge of disbelief of wondering what the fuck he was doing. Grown men don t play pretend.



Not true actually. We do it all the time. Just not so deliberately and usually with less pulpy material. I still thought this could work and I hoped he d go with it. I knew I knew in my gut and as I am the Fancy Man that if he did he would have the time of his life.



I came close to him close enough that he could smell me feel my heat.



So. This is the white man I said in my kingly voice and though he was blindfolded Leo s head went back as if to gaze up at me. I d used my deepest intonation the one that could rattle glass. His face expressed amazement. The story described Otawa as: A giant of a man. Skin black and gleaming like ebony. Muscles hard as rocks. A gaze that pierced like a spear. His enemies feared him as a demon his people worshiped him as a god! Nice press release that. The king was also supposed to have a voice like the darkest most velvet night. (The writer must have been gay too.)



Leo surely had his own idea of what King Otawa sounded like and from his astonished expression I guessed I d captured it.



This I went on is the stranger who found the secret gateway into our forbidden kingdom. Now he wants to learn all about us. Let us see what kind of man he really is.



I snapped my fingers as if commanding one of my men. A step to the side so I could play the role of obedient native. I grabbed Leo s undershirt. He gasped as he hadn t felt me move and my hand was coming from a different direction than my voice. And then he cried out as I sliced the material to ribbons with my knife. Likely he d expected scissors.



His exposed chest was thin and boney with a scattering of gray hair. I let the knife brush past his nipples as I cut away the short sleeves. He yelped in surprise and shivered. But the nipples went hard.



Setting aside the rags and knife I grabbed at the waistband of his trousers.



No— he breathed.



I smiled. Now we were getting into it. The pants had buttons. Good choice Leo. I popped the top button. The next. He twitched with each one. Last one. I spread open the crotch exposing his naked cock.



Leo was panting for breath now struggling even. I let myself imagine for a moment what it was like for him behind the blindfold. He was in the fantasy now I was sure of it. And he was no longer Leo but that young brawny hero of the story. Bound blinded surrounded by a tribe of hostile natives as they tore away his clothes and examined his white manhood.



How humiliating how exciting how true in a way as I was giving his cock the once over. His pubic hair was as silver as that on his head his uncut member…impressive. It wasn t erect but it had come out to see what was going on and I saw a good seven inches. The balls were large and weighty.



I jerked the pants down and off him. There was nothing muscular or firm on his body but he didn t look bad all in all. A little sad being naked and with that blindfold rather like a prisoner about to face a firing squad.



So this is a white man s cock I said in my kingly voice and took it in hand.



Leo sucked in his breath so fast I thought he was going into convulsions. His head banged against the wall. I guess I d surprised him. It must have been a singular moment for him who d had pubescent wet dreams of Otawa to feel not merely imagine that great jungle king holding his dick.



His cock jumped and started to rise up out of its sheath. I rubbed my thumb over his tip over the slit there liking the reaction. He uttered a helpless moan and shivered.



I released him and stepped back.



Mabawa! I said to the man who according to the story was the king s faithful but implacable bodyguard. I wonder. What does a white man s cock taste like?



What little blood was left in Leo s face drained right out. No I—



I switched voices going for the less deep but harder bodyguard voice. What the king wishes to know he will know! I slipped my hand under Leo s balls and gripped them not hard but threatening. Do you object to a black man s tongue white man? Well there s no escape. We ll do with you what we like! And then bending I gave his cock a nice slow lick.



His whole body went taunt and he gave this strangled cry. Leo had never ever expected anything like this. As he d tell me later he d thought at best that he was going to get rubbed a little through his pants. It was hardly to be believed that he d feel a soft hot tongue on his sensitive head. That it was my tongue was so impossible as to be miraculous.



A part of him knew what was really happening and was stunned the other half of him sinking ever deeper into the fantasy was fixed on my deliberate mention of a black man s tongue. It put into his head the image of Mabawa fierce and dark licking his captured penis. His cock hardened up the rest of the way. It was thick and had beautiful blue veins drops of precum dewed its slit. I flicked at that helmet twice more liking the tangy flavor then released him.

Leo was gasping by now trembling. Oh God he gibbered Oh God—



Tempting as it was I didn t dare do more. I wanted his cock buzzing aching not cumming. And he d cum in a red hot second if I kept toying with him.



Majesty I said in bodyguard voice the white man s cock tastes less salty less dark than ours.



Leo had been hanging there gapping like a fish. Now he closed his mouth and swallowed hard. Let s not fool ourselves. The one thing Leo wanted more than anything was a chance at my dick. I d just placed in his mind the erotic image of all those tribesmen sucking each other off—how else would Mabawa know their flavor?–and suggested that Leo might get his own taste later on. He was salivating so hard he looked like to drool all over himself.



Mabawa I said in my kingly voice instruct the white man then prepare him for the first test. I stomped away grabbed up the riding crop then slipped back to play bodyguard.



I set a hand about Leo s scrawny neck. His chin came up his breath went shallow with anticipation. Listen to me white man I hissed. I do not like you but my king thinks you may be worthy. He is willing to let you attempt our trials. No outsider has ever been granted such a thing. Know that there is no going back. Fail or refuse a trial and you will be exiled from our hidden kingdom left to find your way back across the red desert. Do you understand?



Y-yes.



Master. When you address me you will call me master. When you address my king you will call him sire or majesty. As you value your life do not forget this.



Yes master.



Very good. In a moment I will go prepare the first trial then I will be back to get you. One caution. When your hands are brought down you will be tempted to touch your cock. That is not allowed by order of the king. I pressed the whip across his chest rubbed it down to his pelvis and back up again lightly tapping it over his pebbly nipples. This is a crop made from the toughest elephant hide. Touch your cock brush it even accidentally and I shall hold you down and whip you in punishment. No one is allowed to disobey the king. Do you understand?



He shivered. Yes master. His cock I was pleased to see was still half erect and throbbing with excitement.



I crossed into the kitchen. As fast and quietly as I could I removed the cookie sheet of tiles and shut off the oven. They were quite toasty and I had to use a mitt to lay them out on the floor.



Kids don t try this at home! I m a trained professional.



Back to Leo. Your first trial awaits! I said in bodyguard voice. Hauling him on tiptoe I got him off the hook so to speak. I dragged him into the kitchen stopping him just short of the tiles.



Before you is a bed of hot coals I said. I myself could feel their warmth near my bare feet. Leo blinded head tilting had to be trying to figure out what I d done. Kneeling I lifted one of his feet and brought it down for a quick touch on one of the tiles.



Ouch! he flinched back What the…what is that? I could see the pulse in his throat racing with fear. The tiles hot as sand on a summer beach were going to make for a damned uncomfortable walk. Using the kitchen counters as parallel bars I silently hopped over the mini-bed of coals.



White man! I bellowed from the opposite side in my kingly voice.



Leo s head came up. Sire?



Excellent. Back in the game. You will walk over these coals to me. Or do you want this to end now?



There it was. Double challenge. One for the fantasy hero one for Leo. He drew in a breath put a foot out and stepped onto the tiles.



Ouch! Ah! Ouch! For heaven s sake! He hissed even as he danced the few steps required to reach the other side. I kept my hands near him the entire time but he didn t slip or bang into the counters.



He made it and I took hold of his shoulder as he rocked from foot to heated foot. I gave his thin bicep a squeeze.



I am pleased and amazed white man. None of our tribe has ever endured coals so hot.



Thank you sire he ventured.



Come I will lead you myself to the next trial.



I brought him back into the living room.



For this trial you must stand and not move no matter what pain you feel. This is my command. Can you obey it white man? Can you obey me as king?



Y-yes sire. There was a surprising amount of passion in his answer. I can and I will obey you.



Bring the box I ordered regally even as I gathered up the perforated shoebox. I slipped paintbrushes and the tweezers under the elastic waistband of my briefs hoping none of them would slip. I adjusted the open part of the box at Leo s groin making sure it covered his cock and balls.



W-what s that?



Switch of voice back to the menacing bodyguard. That white man is the box of horrors. It is filled with spiders scorpions and other vile creatures. None is poisonous but they will sting. The king is watching to see whether you can endure. Whether you can obey him as we his tribe would obey. I do not think you will last.



Leo gulped but he also took a firmer stance and held his hands up against his chest. I took the tweezers and poked them into a hole. Pinched quickly. Leo yelped and almost leaped back. Then he seemed to remember and clenched his teeth. I poked into another hole pinching another. He twitched and cried out but he didn t grab at the box and he didn t call for Tarzan.



I knew I had to be tweezing thighs scrotum penis. Truth was I wasn t altogether sure what I was doing to him. I poked in through the holes and whatever I got I got. Only Leo knew what that was for sure.



I switched to a hard bristled paintbrush poking in the brush end. He flinched and shuddered when those bristles touched him. To be expecting the painful pinch of those tweezers and then to suddenly to feel those harsh bristles must have been very frightening.



I turned the brush around and poked with the blunt end. Out and into another hole. Again with the tweezers. A bit of a juggling act as I was also holding steady the box but I got into a rhythm and tried to be random. Leo cried out each time I poked into his balls or brushed his cock with those rough bristles or pinched him with the tweezers. His body broke out in a sweat. But he did not move.



Once more I sunk into his mind one of the pleasures of topping being able to imagine what the other person is feeling. Leo was imagining this box filled with nasty creatures scuttling over his sensitive scrotum nipping at the tip of his penis. Tugging maybe nesting in his pubic hair. And he dare do nothing as they tormented him because he knew the king was watching approving. Knew that the king s spiteful bodyguard was also watching and beginning to marvel at the white man s fortitude.



Leo was gasping and whimpering by the time I finished. I removed the box and he almost sobbed with relief.



And then just as I d anticipated his bound and trembling hands went right to his groin.



Too late he remembered. His face went gray and the hands came back up.



I told you white man! I said in the bodyguard s voice and grabbed him by his skinny arm. I snatched up the crop and I shoved him over to the back of the couch bending him till his scrawny ass was high in the air. I ve been told that my enormous heavy hand hot on a man s bare back feels very powerful. I ve been told that it s even more exciting when that hand is holding a man down for a whipping.



No I m sorry! he gasped for air.



You ve earned my admiration and that of the king I added angling myself and the crop for just the right slap. But you ve also earned this punishment.



The crop cut with a whistle through the air and he screamed as it stung his ass. Again and again. Guessing that his poor behind hadn t felt anything like this since childhood I went easy but he cried out quite piteously each time it landed.



No no please—



I hit a little harder a little sharper. His ass reddened and I knew he was feeling the burn. He screamed and struggled quite futilely against my hand. The huge native guard was holding him helpless. There would be no evading this punishment.



Nine…ten… I counted in my head. Imagining the stings as the whip struck and Leo squirmed.



I won t do it again! I ll obey the king! he wept.



Twelve…thirteen…



I want to obey the king!



Fifteen. I stopped but I kept my hand on his back feeling his sobbing breaths. I let him wonder for a moment if I was done allowed myself the sadistic pleasure of feeling how he was shaking. To be suffused with that much sensation to be that much out of control it had to be both exhausting and exhilarating.



Fifteen light strokes were nothing for me but I exaggerated my breathing to give him the illusion of a bodyguard who d given his all into the whipping and was amazed that the penitent had not fainted from the pain.



By the Lion! I put astonishment into Mabawa s voice. I did not think any man could survive such a beating. Your ass I added in a husky whisper is crossed with welts. I brushed a hand over them.



He twitched in pain and caught a breath. A shiver went through him as it came to him. He had criss-crossing whip marks just like the man on the cover of the magazine.



Come I said easing him up onto his feet. He wobbled and had to steady himself on the back of the couch. I held him there for a moment suddenly worried. Had I asked too much of him? He wasn t decrepit but he was no spring chicken.



Do you wish to stop white man?



A beat. Another. He straightened up. I didn t know it at the time but his perception of himself had just shifted. He d gone through three very scary situations he hadn t really been hurt but hadn t known how difficult or damaging each trial would be or how long it would last. He d survived the pain and the fear even the humiliation. He hadn t spoken the safe word.



Leo had always assumed that he had no moral fiber. Now he began to wonder if he did. Maybe his vision of himself as that blond pulp hero wasn t so far fetched after all.



Do you wish to stop? I asked again Or will you see the king?



W-what…. A pause. And then he said quite calmly What is the will of the king?



Oh. Oh my. Leo you brave beautiful man. You are on the inside aren t you?



The king would see you white man.



He honors me. Let s go then.



I have underestimated you white man I said as I led him to the bathroom. We d reached that point in the story where the bodyguard finally concedes that the hero is a hero. Oddly however I really did feel that I d underestimated Leo. His majesty was right. You are worthy.



I stopped him a few steps from the bathroom door. Wait here.



I slipped in got off my briefs and made my quick change dabbed my face with white paint. All the while Leo stood there out in the hall drifting on all that he d experienced and endured. It really hadn t been that much or that long but I m sure it seemed like a lifetime.



I lit the candles.



White man I said in my deep kingly voice and stepped up to draw him inside. I shut the door and carefully directed him to the pillow I d placed on the floor.



Kneel.



He sunk down and was a little surprised and pleased to find the pillow.



You have suffered much to learn the secret ways of our tribe I said kindly. More than any other tribesman in the history of our kingdom. You have been true and brave.



But-but not obedient sire he whispered bowing his head. Forgive me.



There is nothing to forgive. Even your punishment was a test of your character. Hold up your hands. He did so and I pulled at the knot. You have earned the right to take the last and most secret trial I said unwrapping the rope and freeing his wrists. Then I pulled off the blindfold. Some of his silver hair was caught in it but he kept his eyes shut till it was free and gone. When he did open those clear hazel eyes his pupils widened and glowed with awe.



Which surprised me. Deep as I can get into these fantasies and I d gone farther into this one than most there are times when I can t help but step aside and shake my head at what I m doing.



I d rolled up two dishtowels and knotted them to the corners of the other two so as to form a breechclout. The back dishtowel flap was ridiculous as it barely covered my ass crack. As for the front dishtowel it might as well have been a dinner napkin. So there I was standing in front of a pair of potted palms lit by tea candles wearing dishtowels.



I absolutely would not have blamed Leo for busting out laughing but I must have done something right because he looked at me as if I were a god. He was so deep into the fantasy that to his eyes those potted plants were the fronds of jungle palms their shadows against the wall a great dark primal forest. The sink and bath were the ancient stones of a forgotten kingdom and my dishtowels were the pelts of predatory cats.



And I looming there above him I was Otawa ruler of the Black Lion tribe.



I suppose my near nakedness helped and I suppose having spent his entire sexual life dreaming of black men like me that Leo was going to savor the moment no matter what I was wearing. Still I couldn t help but feel smug. Almost gleeful. I d forgotten what it was like to stir a man s imagination to transport him to another world. It made me remember why I loved bringing fantasies to life.



His eyes slowly scanned me. Up my washboard stomach my pecks my huge shoulders. All the way to my face which I d painted with white tribal lines. Then the hazel eyes started back down visually caressing every muscle as if I d been sculpted by Michelangelo. He lingered on my crotch.



Don t you want to know what the third trial is? I finally asked amused.



Yes sire he whispered.



I pulled my regal persona back around me and stepped forward right into his space. He didn t shrink back. I was not as when we d started this a potentially dangerous stranger I was his fantasy come to life every experience he d ever wanted and many he d never imagined. I was King Otawa and Leo was the white man who d braved all to be right where he was at this moment kneeling at my feet.



The third thing you must do I told him is pleasure your king and drink of his essence.



He released a faint breath and touched his hand to his mouth as if to hold back the saliva. Then he came forward on those boney knees and reached very tentatively for one of the knotted corners of my makeshift breechclout. His hands were shaking again but it didn t take him long. This wasn t just what he d been hoping for all night it was what he d been after since puberty. To see what was underneath that painted leopard skin. The dishcloths fell away.



Leo gasped. It wasn t my size. I wasn t that much larger than him maybe eight inches hard. What startled him was that I was shaved clean something he d probably never seen up close and personal.



He put a hand onto my pelvis disbelieving. Frosting on the cake was an understatement. He was enraptured. Reverently lovingly his fingers explored the smooth skin around my shaft sending flutters of pleasure through my groin. My cock slid out of its foreskin. Emboldened Leo added his other hand and together they stroked me from naked groin area back along my flanks to my ass. His hands stopped there and I saw him blinking breathing faintly.



I think he was having one of those horrible moments so overwhelmed by his good fortune that he was suddenly sure it must all be a dream.



He waited to wake up. And when he didn t he licked his lips and leaned in. He rubbed his face against my uncut cock. I felt the softness of his shaven cheeks the brush of his silver hair. His breath on my scrotum was very warm and soft. He inhaled my aroma his hands remaining on my ass as if they didn t dare let go.



Lips kissed my shaven balls and then his tongue licked out. I felt my nuts moving and shifting in their sacks. My balls tightened up at the attention and sizzled as he sucked on one then the other. Blood raced through my cock and it rose.



Leo s mouth left my balls tracing my thickening stem up to the slit. He lapped at it making me sweat precum and then he sighed as if he d just tasted nectar. His tongue begged for more. My cock answered and he sucked the tip like a kitten nursing. Waves of heat and pleasure pulsed through my shaft.



I was very hard now empowered and I had to resist the urge to grab Leo by the hair and start trusting my cock down his gullet. For decades Leo had dreamed of everything he d do if he could just have one chance at King Otawa s cock. So. Let him savor it relish it. I could hold back till he d done everything he wanted to do. Or so I thought.



And then Leo took me in his mouth.



He started by opening his lips and sliding down. His tongue swirled over my tip and then stroked down my sensitive ridge which just about drove me nuts. The mouth began to move up and down and Leo sucked on me like a kid with a candy cane. The veins in my shaft came alert. A moan escaped me. That sound must have excited him. The king lost in the pleasure that he Leo was giving him.



My hands touched down on his silver hair. I couldn t stop my pelvis from rocking fucking that mouth.



And then quite unexpectedly that shy reclusive man who d spent the entire night trembling or in awe of me deep throated my cock. I mean my erect cock just slid into his warm open throat not a pause not a gag.



This time I was the one who gasped.



Suddenly my balls were slapping Leo s chin and my cock was captured by this pulsing suction. I started to thrust quite helplessly.



Oh God Character. Keep in character. W-white man…no one…in my tribe has-has ever given me such pleasure. Oh FUCK!



My entire crotch felt like it was on fire and all that existed were the sensations lips gliding up and down at the root a tongue still rubbing sparks underneath a pulse at my swollen sensitive tip as the throat swallowed. All of it causing a lava-like roil of delicious heat to rise and rise up my shaft.



I don t know if it was my ass that gave it away by clenching in or the way I was face-fucking him. But Leo held on as my muscles contracted my balls went hard and my penis filled with cum shot out its load.



I roared like a lion.



Sweat dripped down from my bald head and I gasped for air as I came down from that soaring high. I was a little surprised to find my hands locked in Leo s hair his face still in my crotch. For a moment I worried that I might have hurt him. But for once this night there was no shaking on his part just on mine. He had it seemed swallowed every drop and was busy cleaning my softening cock.



I flinched as my penis became hyper sensitive. Gasping trembling I gently withdrew from him. Damn.



This is my show I d told him I m the director. Boy. Did I feel like an ass. Leo had certainly been in charge of that part of this fantasy and if it wouldn t have ruined the mood I d have applauded and handed him an Oscar.



Who would have imagined it? Not me. I d come here on a lark because I was bored and wanted to shake things up. I d figured that all I was going to get out of this was some fun. I mean come on. You thought it too! What could this old fuck possibly do for me Mason the crown prince of the Cockpit? A lot as it turned out and it had taken that orgasmic wake-up call to make me see it.



Leo had given me his fantasy. Sure it wasn t Shakespeare but look at the roles I d been playing up till now: drill sergeant gangbanger…Tyrone. This was like doing comedy after a year of tragedy like being cast as the wise hero after months of playing dumb villains. Otawa was this cool warrior king. Even his fucking bodyguard had layers. This Black Lion fantasy had let me stretch my improvisational talents and ham it up.

Leo had also handed me his trust. Of everyone in that bar he d had the most to fear from me. Yet he hadn t tried to escape out the bathroom window or called the police. He d let me tie his hands strip him naked take charge of his darkest secret. Me. The big black man you d cross the street to avoid who would make you flip the locks on your car doors at a stoplight.



That kind of trust was beyond price. It touched and humbled me.



And last last we have what he d just done to my cock. I d never once imagined that Leo would be able to get me off. I d thought truth to tell that I d have to help him along jerk him maybe. But you know what? I ve been sucked by some of the best looking motherfuckers in this city and Leo…I would place Leo in the top five.



I am so not shitting you.



Sometimes I step back from myself and I see a real asshole. Arrogant and full of himself. This was one of those times. I d typecast Leo as badly as he had me. This all might have been a game of pretend but Leo had proven himself a real hero. Given half-a-chance he could do a man a world of good. Even the Fancy Man.



So. Time for Fancy Man to return the favor. I caught my breath and composed myself.



White man I said and had to clear my throat because I d completely lost the regal voice. Leo rested there on his knees his eyes dreamy. There was great pride and satisfaction on his face. He knew he d gotten this part right in every particular.



You ve passed every test done all that we asked I said reaching for the open jar of red paint. I dipped my finger into it.



This is the blood of the black lion I said following the script directly this time our god and sacred animal. With this I make you one of us. The blood of our tribe now flows in you.



I marked his face to look just like that of the blond guy on the cover. Leo s eyes glistened and I heard him gulp as if swallowing down tears. I pulled up his right arm and dipped another finger into the black paint. I m no artist and I knew it wouldn t look like the cover art but I made a circle on his shoulder and added five strokes over it the best imitation of the claw symbol I could manage.



This is so that all will know you belong to the Black Lion and his tribe. From now on you will be known as White Leopard kin and tribesman. You are brother to any who bear this mark and may call on them in need as they may call on you. Serve your people well White Leopard.



I-I will sire he whispered powerfully moved.



I cleaned my fingers in the water-filled basin then I grabbed the lube and slipped around behind him. I lubed up my palms and crouched down. Reaching about I took hold of his cock with one hand. It rose out of its sheath immediately as if summoned by its master.



He drew in a breath as I began to stroke him.



I am your king I whispered in his ear inhaling that lilac aftershave of his. I slipped my other hand down between his ass cheeks found his sphincter and let my lubed finger circle it. He groaned and shifted into a kneeling crouch that was unconsciously or no identical to the posture of the white hero on the cover.



He was held between the Otawa s two great hands a willing captive the black king s white subject and servant.



This is your rite of initiation I said speeding up my strokes on his hardening cock. Only the king of the tribe can do this.



Sire— he moaned. He was holding with his thin hands to my muscled arm. His cock was engorged and pulsing. I let the finger rimming his hole slip in. He made that strangled cry again as if he couldn t believe what was happening to him what he was feeling.



I d kept him on the edge all night I expected him to cum fast and he did. I d barely started moving my finger in and out of his anus when he went stiff. His cock twitched and spasmed and suddenly he was shouting and shooting his cream all over the bathroom tiles.



He gasped and shivered and gasped again sinking into my arms as I released him. Initiation s over I thought.



I let him rest against me there in my lap till his breathing quieted and he stopped trembling. Then I kissed him on the cheek. Tarzan Leo. How was that?



He blinked at me in blind wonder his dear old hound-dog face still marked with red lines. A breath. Two. Then tears welled up in his eyes and he began to cry. He bawled like a baby for nearly half an hour while I sat and rocked him in my lap.



#



We got the paint cleaned off our faces. I dressed and Leo put his trousers back on. He offered to drive me but I told him I d catch a bus on back to the Cockpit s parking lot. I wanted to leave him to his bed and contemplations.



Is there…anything I can give you? he finally asked as I finished packing up my kit.



I do this because I like doing it Leo. And hard as it may be for you to believe I got as much enjoyment out of it as you did. It was true. Leo would probably never know how much I owed him for the evening.



I don t think that s possible he murmured. He was still floating probably would be for days.



Would you he added walking me to the door happen to know of a good tattoo artist?



My brows went up. There s a place on 4th and Main. Ask for Mike. From what I hear he s the best.



Thanks. Leo touched on the faux black lion mark still on his shoulder. He d refused to wash that off.



Oh I said with a grin. Good idea. I opened the door. Then I thought about it.



…it s too late. Everything I wanted is outdated Leo had said at the beginning of our evening. To my shame I d thought the same thing. I d assumed I d show him a little charity give him his obsolete fantasy. Then we d both go back to our places me to the spotlight he to the shadows.



I d assumed wrong.



There was no way I was going back to playing the same old roles not after what I d had tonight. And fuck if I was going to let Leo gutter out like a candle. A real king I thought fiercely wouldn t let that happen to one of his subjects.



I turned to face him. Actually there is something you can do for me.



Anything he said and I knew he was finally speaking to me. Mason.



I put a hand on his shoulder. You went through the trials and I initiated you with my own hands. The blood of the Black Lion flows through your veins now and forever. So there s no going back to being who you were. Do you understand me?



He blinked his red eyes and swallowed several times. He was still very fragile. Yes sire.



You re a member of the tribe now. If one of your brothers is in need you have to help. Don t shirk your duty just because you re afraid they won t accept what you have to offer.



He mused on that translating it. Knowing that the king himself has faith in me he said at last makes all the difference. The hazel eyes met mine. I won t fail you.



I know you won t. I bent to give him a kiss on the lips. Then I stepped out and shut the door behind me.



#



Leo came by the Cockpit a few weeks later. He was too shy to step in but when I heard that an older gent was asking for me I stepped right out.



We hugged and he showed me his new tat. It looked just like the beautifully stylized mark on the magazine cover. He grinned like a little boy as he proudly displayed his shoulder.



He didn t return to the Pit I think he s gotten all he d needed from it. Instead he hung out at other bars went to lectures and plays exploring the secret kingdom he d found. One day I saw him seated at an outdoor table at a popular cafГ©. He was in the company of a balding black gentleman with a bit of paunch. Leo was leaning in to fondly wipe crumbs from the fellow s beard. He looked happy.



I wondered if his companion was willing to wear a dishtowel breechclout. He d better be I thought. Or I ll kick his ass.



The regulars at the Pit wanted to know what had happened between me and the silver-haired gent of course but they re aware of my policy. I never kiss and tell. So they stayed in the dark mostly until one day…



Hey Fancy Man Robbie greeted me as I came in. It was a Saturday afternoon. Carl and Al and Terry were there watching baseball on one of the bar s two televisions.



This came for you Robbie said and he brought out a large cardboard delivery tube.



For me? I echoed checking it out. It was addressed only to Mason c/o the Cockpit etc.



That s one hell of a dildo Mason Al laughed as the guys wandered up to the bar to refresh their beers.



Will you use it on me pretty please Fancy Man? Terry asked.



Only if you really beg for it I smiled and popped open one end of the tube. I peered in. No dildo. Something was rolled up in there. I shook it out. Then brought it over to one of the tables.



I let it unfurl. It was a poster-sized canvass painting.



Whoa Robbie breathed. They don t do art like that anymore.



No. They certainly did not. It looked to be the cover of an old pulp magazine stunningly beautifully rendered. There was an exotic Shangri-La landscape all in vivid greens and golds including a misty kingdom in the background. In the foreground was a young white man slender with longish blond hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing a white leopard skin breechclout and cape. A black stylized claw symbol marked his right shoulder.



He was kneeling in the grass. The homoeroticism of his appearance and poise was subtle but unmistakable.



Wonder what he s got under that leopard skin Carl murmured and the guys chuckled.



Something impressive and tasty I thought.



Behind and above the man posed on a rock was a magnificent black lion with a heavy windswept mane. The fine musculature of the beast had been delineated in blues and white fangs were bared in a defiant growl. The cat spoke of courage and heart emblematic it seemed of the young man s spirit and sexuality.



So who is he? Robbie asked me.



He s a pulp hero. A white guy who finds this secret jungle kingdom and becomes part of a mysterious tribe. This I smiled this is from the sequel where he travels around the kingdom having all sorts of adventures.



Bet you hate that clichГ© Robbie said to me. White man as hero of the jungle. With the black man just there to help.



It s a very outdated stereotype I agreed.



So why would someone send you this?



Because I fancied him.



Robbie frowned. The artist? Or he nodded at the white youth in the picture him.



Both I said gazing at the painted young man kneeling in the grass. Kneeling in homage to his king.



I m the Fancy Man. If you see me and you re worried that I m not going to notice you because of your age or looks think again. If you ve got a fantasy that interests me I might just grant it. I might just bring it to life.



And I might just bring you to life too.