BOBBY TAKES REVENGE

Bobby Lo didn't like it, not one bit. He'd heard too many stories about guys like Scott, older white guys who took advantage of young Asian guys who were new to the States. Not all the newbies fell for this, of course, but there were enough who really thought that when you said, "I love you", it meant something and were looking for a genuine relationship instead of a one night stand. Guys like Scott sweet talked them, got what they wanted, then tossed them aside, leaving them hurt and angry and sad. When one of Bobby's cousins arrived in Los Angeles, Bobby warned him about predatory guys like Scott, but Scott got him anyway and then dumped him, Now it was personal. Now Bobby was determined to get revenge for his cousin.

Of course, Bobby was famous for his martial arts skills and could easily have beaten up Scott but he had a much better plan. He knew Scott would turn up sooner or later at The Dream House, a bar a lot of Asian guys went to. When Bobby went there looking for him, he wore a loose long sleeved shirt, so his big arms and powerful chest wouldn't be quite so obvious. He did his hair with bangs that were "cute" and moved in a way he knew would make him seem sweet and vulnerable, just the way Scott liked them.

The first Saturday he went to The Dream House, Scott wasn't there, but the second time -- that was him, leaning up against a wall, looking around the room. Scott was in reasonable shape for someone his age, about 40, just under six feet, with short brown hair and a well-trimmed mustache.

It only took a few moments for Bobby to get Scott's attention. He used a look he'd been practicing... very open and innocent and then a shy turning away when Scott looked back. Scott was on him in a moment, saying, "Hello, I've never seen you here before."

Bobby was curious as to just how foolish this white man was, so over the next few minutes he managed to say all kinds of silly, flattering things, like, "In my country I used to dream of meeting men like you" and "You're so tall" and "Do you like me?" Scott ate all this up without once suspecting that Bobby was laughing at him.

Sure enough, pretty soon Scott was suggesting Bobby come home with him. Bobby took his own car, following Scott to an apartment that was nothing special... a little messy, a little dirty, the bed unmade, some laundry piled on the floor. Bobby had a way to make the setting seem much nicer. He pulled out an incense stick he had with him and lit it. In order for his plan to work, this evening had to be an experience of maximum pleasure for Scott, affecting him so deeply he'd never, never forget it, even if he wanted to.

Bobby passed the smoldering stick slowly in front of Scott's face, back and forth several times, with such grace it seemed to have a magical life of its own. Scott barely had time to wonder what Bobby was doing before he fell into a trance. This was very special incense. Scott's ears began to tingle, his cheeks flushed, his cock got hard.

Bobby was amused to learn Scott wasn't really a very good lover, fumbling with his hands, clumsy with his kisses, so he pushed Scott down, saying, "Let me handle this." He got Scott's clothes off and then his own.

With whatever ability to think he had left, Scott wondered at Bobby's muscles, so well defined, so powerful. And even though Bobby's cock wasn't hard yet, it was thick and heavy looking. Just who was this "cute boy" he'd brought home? But Scott could do nothing. He was already under Bobby's spell, and he would go deeper.

Now Bobby began massaging Scott, running his hands over Scott's body, making all the nerve paths come alive, stirring up the flow of energy. With his palm, he traced small circles in the area between Scott's navel and his cock; with the fingers of his other hand he very lightly stroked Scott's balls. Scott's cock grew large and flushed pink.

Bobby considered using one of his Mouth Techniques on Scott but decided it wasn't necessary. Besides, he didn't want to overdo things and kill Scott with a heart attack. That was always a possibility when Bobby cut loose completely.

Now Bobby rolled Scott over, getting ready to fuck him. Scott struggled. He wasn't at all sure he wanted to be fucked; usually, it was the other way around, but Bobby ran his fingers around Scott's asshole using the light, teasing "feather touch" and Scott found himself yearning for more, much more. The muscles of his asshole softened and were ready.

Bobby lubed himself and slid on a rubber; to get Scott ready, he used a special oil called "one hundred fingers dancing", which aroused Scott further and would make everything to come all the more pleasurable. Now Bobby was ready to work him with the Set of Nine Technique, from which no man ever fully recovered, not the way Bobby did it.

Slowly he pushed the head of his cock into Scott's asshole, Scott shivering with the controlled power of it. When he was all the way in, Bobby began the Set of Nine... eight quick, shallow strokes that sent pleasure rippling through Scott, followed by a single deep thrust that made the pleasure exquisitely intense by the way it edged into pain.

Then Bobby repeated the sequence, with this variation: seven shallow strokes, two deep ones. Then six shallow, three deep. By now, he had Scott as his total captive. If Bobby had stopped at this point and told Scott to slit his throat and die happy, Scott would probably have done it.
But Bobby continued on -- five shallow strokes, four deep...four shallow, five deep. He reached around, grabbing Scott's cock and holding it to keep Scott from coming. Now it was three shallow, six deep... two shallow, seven deep...one shallow, eight deep...And then, nine deep. Every breath that Scott took now was a gasp; every breath he let out, a shout.

With the ninth deep thrust, Bobby let Scott shoot, an orgasm that rocked the white man like nothing he'd ever experienced before, his body spasming sharply again and again, cum shooting out in great squirts, soaking everything until he was totally spent.

It was, Bobby had to admit, as good a fucking as he'd ever given any man. Now Scott's torment, his punishment, would begin.

As Bobby was getting dressed, Scott recovered himself enough to ask for Bobby's phone number. Bobby said, "Oh, it's better if I call you."

Of course, he never did, and he hasn't gone back to The Dream House. But he hears things. He knows Scott comes to The Dream House every night now, weekdays as well as Saturdays, hoping to see Bobby again. He asks everyone there about Bobby... do they know him, where else does he hang out, when is he coming back to The Dream House? But everyone just smiles politely and shrugs or shakes their heads.

It's been almost a year since this happened. Scott is drinking far too much, getting careless about his appearance, can't concentrate at work, could lose his job. He just can't get Bobby out of his mind, from when he wakes up horny and sad that the Bobby he was dreaming about isn't really there, to late at night when he lies in bed all alone, trying to sleep.

Scott has no interest in chasing anyone else any more. All the nice young guys are safe because of what Bobby Lo did that night. Scott hurt a lot of people, now he's the one who's hurting.