My Jim Carroll fantasy --
today, Jim Carroll spanks me to
try to make me stop loving him

"I'm in love with you,"
I tell him. "And
I don't want to be. I think
about you all the time, and
I don't want to. I just
want the sex, I just want
your hot body. I don't
want to love you. I know
you don't love me, and
that you never will."
I'm saying this to Jim Carroll.
He's in my bedroom, lying
naked on my bed. "So I
want you to spank me,
really really hit my
butt hard, everytime
that I say that I love you.
And maybe that'll make me
stop." Jim Carroll is
on his back. I'm lying
on my side. I'm also naked.
"I'm gonna climb on top
of you, face to face,"
I tell him, "and
push my nipples
against your nipples,
push my belly button
against your belly button,
my dick against your dick,
and everytime I say
I love you, I want you
to spank me, I want
you to hit my
butt really really
hard with your
open hands, both
sides, both buttocks,
leave 'em red and
sore."

"Umm, OK, I guess
I could do all that,"
Jim Carroll says to me.
"It's gonna cost
you though. Sounds like
a lot of work. How
about two hundred bucks?"
 

"Oh hell yeah," I
say, "so let's get
started."
 
Jim Carroll and me are
in my apartment, or
rather my parents' apartment. My
parents are gone for
the afternoon.

As you may recall,
Jim Carroll and me are in
the same English class at
the fancy high school we both
go to. I sit
right behind him
in that English class.
Jim Carroll's parents
are poor. Jim Carroll's  
a great basketball
player. That's why he's
going to my fancy expensive
private high school. They
gave him a scholarship to
play basketball for them.
His scholarship covers
tuition and books and
stuff like that, but
that's all.
My parents
are kinda rich. Jim Carroll
does drugs. He needs money
for that. I get a generous
allowance.

One day after English class
a while back, I got up
enough nerve to talk to
him and offered him money
to come to my apartment
and have sex with me.
People talk. I knew he
sometimes has sex with
guys for money, even
though he's straight.

I've paid him to have
sex with me a bunch of
times now. I guess
I've had him in my bed
at least 20 times, maybe
more. And it's never
enough. I feel like
I could never get
enough of him.   

Anyhow.

Hell yes I'm love with Jim Carroll.
Dang it. I don't want to be in
love with him, but here I am.
So today I'm
paying Jim Carroll to lie
on his back and let me
lay on top of
him while he reaches
around and spanks
my butt. For an
agreed-upon fee of $200.

So I do it. I climb
on top of him,
press my nipples against
his nipples, my
belly against
his belly,
my dick against
his dick.  We line
up real good. He's
tall and skinny
just like me,
all except he's
got some actual
muscle definition
from all the basketball
he plays. Me, I'm just
skinny. Mostly all
I do is read books.
But, I'm not bad-looking
for a skinny non-athletic
guy. Really. I'm not
bad at all.

"I love you," I say
to Jim Carroll.

Jim Carroll slaps my
left butt cheek,
he slaps it hard.

"I love you," I say.

Jim Carroll slaps my
right butt cheek,
he slaps it hard.

"I love you," I tell him.

This time
he whacks my butt
with both hands, hits
both of my butt cheeks,
hits them hard.

"I love you," I tell him.

WHACK

"I love you."

WHACK

This goes on for
several minutes. I lose
track of time. My butt
is really sore, really
burning. At first
I'm looking at his
face, his eyes look
kinda mean, but kinda
jolly, like he's
having fun. Then
I put my face down
and look into my
pillow while I'm
telling him that
I love him and he's
spanking my butt
to make me stop loving
him.

"I love you."

WHACK

"I love you."

WHACK

Then, kinda unexpected,
both of our dicks get hard.

His dick gets hard
first, and then my dick
gets hard right back.

Our dicks are pressed
together, both our dicks hard
as a rock. I kinda
start rubbing my dick
against his.

"I love you."

WHACK

"I love you."

WHACK

Then it happens.
I start spurting cum.
I just keep on spurting
cum onto his belly.
I'm having one of
the best orgasms
of my life. My butt cheeks
are on fire and stinging
like crazy, and I'm
having the best orgasm
of my life and I'm
spurting cum and spurting
cum and, then,
dang, Jim Carroll starts
spurting cum too.

"Dang it," he says.
"Wasn't expecting that. I guess
I got off on hitting your
tight little homo butt
after all."

"I love you," I tell him.

He whacks my butt with
both hands, whacks both
of my butt cheeks.

But we're also kinda
grinding our hard
cum-slimy dicks together,
all gooey and messy,
our cum-slimy dicks,
our cum-slimy balls,
our cum-slimy pubic hair,
our cum-slimy bellies
all pushed together.

I climb off of him, get
out of bed, look
down at his gorgeous
body, his cum and
my cum all over
his belly and dick
and balls, wetting down
his pubic hair.

"So did it work?" he
says.  "Do you still
love me?"

I rub my sore butt
with both hands. Dang,
my butt is sore. And
it feels hot to the
touch, it must
be really red.

I turn around and
show it to him.
"How red is it?" I
ask.

"Pretty red. So, did
it work?" he repeats.
"Do you still love me?"

Well, I do still love him.
I love him so much I want him to   
move into my bedroom and never
leave.

"Yeah," I tell him. "I love
you."

"Too bad," he says, "'cause
you know I don't love you,
and never will. But your
money," he says with
a mean kinda grin, "I do
love your money, and
I don't hate doing homo sex
stuff with you to get it."


I look at his cum-slimy belly,
look down at my own cum-slimy belly.

My dick is still hard. So is his.
 
"Got time to take a shower with me?"
I ask him. "Wash off the cum? Maybe
watch each other jerk off
and spurt some more of the stuff?"

"That'll be another fifty bucks," he says.

"Sold!" I tell him.

So we get into the shower,
soap up, jerk off,
then when we're drying off      
I tell him "Same time next week?"

"Yep," he says.

Then he gets dressed. I don't. I just
stand there naked watching him get
dressed. I open the drawer in
my dresser and pull out
$260. I know we agreed on
$250, but all I have is twenties.
"Consider the extra ten a down payment
for next week," I tell him.

"Cool," he says. I hand
him the money. He stuffs it
into his pants. "Thanks," he says.

Still naked, I follow him into
the living room.

He puts his hand on the doorknob to
leave. My dick is hard again.

"You got a good body," he says.
"A nice dick. A good set of balls."

"Thanks," I say. I love it
when he says stuff like that to
me. I know it's all part of
what he gets paid for. But I
still love it.

And I still love him.

"You know I mean it," he says.
"I've never lied to you
before. I tell it like
I see it. You've got a good
bod. I have a good time
in bed with you. You know
what you want, you know what I want,
you're willing to pay for it, and
hell, if I have to spurt my cum
with a guy instead of with a girl,
well, you're the guy for me."

I think I start to blush.
I want to hug him and kiss
him and beg him to stay.

But I don't do that. I have
some sense of self-restraint,
some understanding of how
things really are. He wants
money. I have money. I
give him money when he does
sexy stuff with me.

He doesn't mind spending
time with me in my bed.
But he doesn't love me. Never
will. I know I can't buy
his love, but apparently I'm
happy with everything else
that he's willing to sell me.  

He opens the door, steps
into the hallway,
closes the door behind him.

I stand there naked in
the living room.  Then I
whisper "I love you."
Then I go back to my room,
get dressed, sit down
at my desk, and start
doing my homework.
Advanced Trigonometry. Ick.

In no time at all, my
pants are down around
my ankles, my butt
is red and sore and
tender, but my dick
is hard and oozing
pre-cum, and I'm jerking
off while sitting there at my desk.

I look over at my
unmade bed and picture
Jim Carroll lying there,
like he was not that
long ago, he's naked,
his dick hard,
his glans shiny,
his teeth white
and dazzling.
 

--Carl Miller Daniels (August 29, 2024)