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The slaveboy is forced to sexually service his sadistic uncle’s visitor (including worshiping his feet) whose identity comes as a shocking surprise.
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The Sacrifice Part 3 – The Visitor
by UKBastinado
Series: The Sacrifice
It was 11am when the doorbell rang. Richard opened the door and allowed Matthew to enter the house. Matthew was shown to the lounge and offered a seat and a drink. “Are you sure you want to see my slave boy?” Richard asked. Matthew insisted that he was anxious to see the new boy and asked again if it would be possible. Richard could see no reason but wondered just what he would get out of the encounter. “You want to meet my slave but why should I permit it, I get nothing out of the meeting. If you are so anxious to see my boy then maybe you should willingly submit to being used by me for my own enjoyment?” Matthew drew back and saw visions of being stripped and used by Richard in payment for seeing the new slave boy. He indicated his dislike at being used in that way and Richard responded with another option. “How about you allow yourself to be serviced by my slave? Allow him to strip you naked, to service your feet, sucking your cock and taking you anally. Would you be willing to be serviced by my boy and fucked by him? That would satisfy me many times over and you will have seen my boy and enjoyed my boy as well as being taken by my boy.” Matthew sat in silence. This was not what he had in mind and he had no option but to refuse. “Well Matthew, sorry that you have wasted your time. Anytime you wish to re-think you are welcome to come back.” Matthew stalled and asked if they could renegotiate. He HAD to see the new slave. “Matthew, you are 19 years of age, you are a fit young man and I enjoy seeing fit young men bollock naked. You wish to see my slave boy and I want to see him serve you and fuck you. I am not asking for money but rather for entertainment. Would you rather fuck him?” Matthew sat down and contemplated the offer. He was so desperate to see the slave boy but seeing him was all that he wanted. Now he had to not only choose to strip and be served by him but also to have sexual relations with him. He had no choice. It was agree or not see the boy. He HAD to see the boy. Matthew looked at Richard and said “Yes Sir, I agree. But I cannot decide if I should fuck him or he fuck me. I am not gay and I really do not want this.” Richard poured a drink, sat down and considered the situation. “Maybe you fuck each other. Yes, that is the offer. take it or leave it.” Matthew had no option. Richard placed a contract in front of Matthew. It was a contract that claimed that due to Matthew being found unlawfully in the grounds of Richards house an amicable agreement had been reached. Matthew would be used as practice for Richard’s new slave boy. Sexual relations between the slave and Matthew would be expected and guided by Richard. Any failure to comply with the agreement would see Matthew arrested and if found guilty enslaved to Richard for a period of one year. Richard was a powerful man and for certain if Matthew failed to comply with the agreement then he would be enslaved. It was agreed.
Joshua was relieved that no bells had rang by 11am. He was in so much pain. He was suffering from the previous days lashing and walking with burns on the soles of his feet. He did not want to be punished again today but somehow he did not think that he would get away without another dose of punishment. His new master wanted to see him suffer and he had already made a good start and issued a threat or maybe a promise. Four burns could be ten the next time his soles were made to suffer. Joshua took advantage of his late morning. He had a meeting with the estate nurse at 11.30am and would at least get his wounds attended to. The rest of the day was a mystery.
Ten minutes after the nurse had treated his back and his soles, the bell rang. He assumed waiting position. He was collected by his master and taken to the main sitting room and ordered to assume a kneeling waiting position. “Today boy we have a guest. A young man who heard that I have a new slave boy and he is anxious to see you. He has made an agreement with me, in payment for being allowed to see you, to be subject to being used by you under my instruction. I have to point out that he was not happy to agree to this but he is a good looking 19 year old and I just have to get him naked. You will remember that you are a slave. You will behave like a slave at all times. Any failure to obey will result in dire consequences for our guest and of course you will be flogged and beaten without mercy. Do we understand boy?” Joshua acknowledged that he understood. “You will remain in position head bowed. The guest will sit before you and you will service his feet. You will not look at him. You will remain submissive, you are a slave! He has been instructed not to speak until permitted to do so.”
A chair was placed in front of Joshua and after a short wait the guest sat down in front of him. All that Joshua could see was a pair of feet in black trainers.
Richard instructed, “No hands boy”.
Joshua was looking down at someone’s shoes, someone that he had never seen before. Another experience that reminded him that he had no rights and that slavery was so demeaning. All he could do was obey. He leant forwards and took the laces between his teeth and a few minutes later both trainers had been removed. The socks were no real problem to remove and very quickly he was looking down at a pair of young bare feet. He guessed that the feet he was kissing belonged to someone around his own age. Joshua wondered how much this guy had paid for this service and was this the start of his master selling his services. Feelings of deep humiliation swept over Joshua. Having a single master to serve was humiliating enough but to be made to serve anyone and everyone that wanted service was deeply humiliating and made Joshua feel so insignificant.
Matthew sat in the chair with his bare feet in the hands of the slave boy who was gently kissing them as if he was in love with them. The slave had certainly been trained well, he was so submissive and meek. With the boys head bowed down to his feet, Matthew could see the lash lines criss crossing the slaves back. He wanted to ask the slave if he was ok and to enter into conversation but that was not permitted. He felt so sad for Joshua. Matthew was permitted thirty minutes of relaxing foot service before Richard’s voice cut through the service and instructed Joshua to look down at the floor. Matthew was told that it was the time for him to strip naked but thought that it would be good to make the day a little more interesting.
Richard was pleased with the way the day was going and things were about to get much better. “Visitor, please stand and await the services of my slave boy. Slave I want you to slowly remove our guests clothing. Nice and slow, so I can enjoy it” Matthew stood and the chair was removed. Joshua stood from his waiting position looked at the visitor and froze in shock when he saw that the person he was to serve was his brother, Matthew.
The two brothers were face to face for the first time since Joshua had been taken into slavery. Richard was delighted. “Well what a surprise, face to face for the first time since Joshua was taken and enslaved. Now I have legal ownership of one of you and a contract that will give me enslavement of young Matthew for one whole year if that contract is broken. Trust me, I can easily make it look like the contract was breached. So, I am finally going to enjoy watching my boy serve his brother sexually and then enjoy watching young Matthew return the favour. So, are you going to give me a pleasurable display of servitude or will I be needing a second slave cell?” The brothers were emotionally wrecked. They were trapped. It was Matthew who broke the silence and asked his brother to do what had to be done. He promised to submit without resistance and Joshua knew that they were caught in a trap. They had no choice. With tears trickling down his cheeks Joshua began to strip his brother naked. For the two young men the next few hours were the worst hours of their young lives, for Richard it was a few hours of utter satisfaction. It could not have been any better. The way he had made his two eldest nephews submit to his desires so easily was a masterstroke and he fully intended to see the humiliation and punishment continue. Richard had a proposal for the two boys.
“Well boys, that was enjoyable, do you not agree? Slave, get down on your knees and Matthew stand and listen. Why the tears? Do you not agree that the last few hours were immensely enjoyable? No? Oh come on you sucked each other off really well and took and delivered anal without too much fuss. I saved you the pain of a flogging or a foot whipping. I enjoyed your performance.” It was of course Matthew who spoke since Joshua had no rights to speak. “Sir, that was awful for both of us. We are brothers! All I needed was to see my brother. The brother that I miss and love, the brother that is enslaved to you, his own uncle. You enjoyed making two brothers use each other sexually all because our father treated you badly. Sir I am not making any judgements about our father or his behaviour. But please Sir, we are both innocent. We are good guys and we do not deserve to be treated like this. Sir PLEASE give my brother his freedom, PLEASE SIR.”
Richard sat and listened with a look of amusement on his face. His response was not quite what Matthew had hoped for. “So you are not happy with my treatment eh boys? Frankly I don’t care what you think. Joshua is legally my slave and you were under contract. All legal and above board. Ever since the country re-legalised slavery this plan for revenge has been planned and orchestrated. You want me to free my boy and stop making my brother and his family suffer? No, I don’t think so. However, I might consider a way to reduce your brothers suffering and even maybe grant his freedom much sooner than originally planned. Would you like to hear my suggestion?” Of course Matthew wanted to hear how this could become a reality and following one last plea for mercy Richard outlined his plan. “So, right now I have one slave, my brother’s son. All very satisfying. I am entitled to keep him enslaved for the whole of his life if I so desire, and maybe I will. I could enjoy him for a while, ten years maybe, and then have him executed. But my motivation is based on making my brother and his family suffer. Joshua is just the means to an end. What if my brother was to lose both his eldest sons to slavery? Twice the pain for him and twice the pleasure for me. So here is my offer. Matthew, if you willingly sign away your rights to freedom and sign yourself over to me as my slave, I will agree to free you both in five years time. Your service to me will pay for your fathers sins. If you do not agree then I make a pledge to keep Joshua in my service for the next ten years after which I will sell him at a slave auction. He will enjoy enslavement for his whole life. Now I am aware that Joshua has already accepted this fact and has come to terms with it. I am also aware that he has been through professional slave training and you have not. I am sure that a whip will train just as well and you will accustom yourself to slavery very quickly. Besides you have your brother to teach you during your down time. So, what will it be? Maybe you need time to talk together? I will grant you two hours together in Joshua’s cell. I expect an answer when we next talk. I cannot enforce your enslavement. I own the mortgage company that had the power to do that where Joshua was concerned but I need you to come willingly”
The boys were led down to the slave cell. Matthew was denied the return of his clothing and the two naked boys sat and discussed their futures. It was a conversation full of heated arguments and compassionate encouragement. Joshua did not want to see his brother go through the hell of slavery. Matthew wanted to do all he could to see his brother set free. Five years was inevitable for Joshua but Matthew was under no obligation and Joshua saw no reason why his brother should suffer. He was paying the price, trained to pay the price and could see no reason to give Richard any means of more pleasure and satisfaction.
“So you boys having difficulty coming to a conclusion eh? Ok well lets postpone the decision. Matthew, you have an invite to a special party next Wednesday evening in the ambassador rooms of the Nighthawks private clubhouse. I have laid on a special party where my slave boy will be the centre of attention. Here is your invite. You will need it to gain admission. On Thursday at 11am knock on my door if you wish to talk to your brother again. My offer will remain open.”
Matthew agreed and was handed his clothing. He dressed, said goodbye to his brother and was shown to the door.
Richard returned to the slave cell where Joshua was waiting. He dropped his trousers and gave the order for Joshua to suck him off.
UKBastinado
Posted on 4 November 2014 | 9:15 am
The author ties up the hunky 18 yo captain of his boarding school’s rugby team and subjects him to a tickle torture session to get even with him for making him clean up the tv room.
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Tickling the Team Captain
by Jez
Richard was the Captain of the school rugby squad. He was 18, straight, 6ft1, about 13 stone and muscly. He took a size 11 shoe. As we were in a boarding school, we had our own rooms, as we were seniors. Last year, our rooms were in a flat together, oh joy!!
Many nights I would sneak in his room and play with his feet whilst he slept as they stuck out over the bed. They were a size 11, with a high, sensitive arch, long toes and soft, smooth soles. I would sniff them, kiss them, and lick them. Mostly of course, I would tickle. I always had pleasing results of grunting and giggling!
One day in summer last year, he came into my room and asked me to do a favour:
“Jezza I need you to go and sort out the TV room, it’s a shit hole and there’s an inspection tonight”
I was a little annoyed but did as he told. I could finish my work later. I went in and cleared the usual mess of sweet wrappers and drinks cans and straightened the chairs. I was pleased until Richard appeared:
“This is crap. I need you to get the fucking Hoover and do some dusting too!! Do it!!”
He left and I had no choice but to comply. He sat outside doing sod all with the team but I ignored them.
The evening went by and I ended up doing all the tidying as usual and got no work done. By 11 pm I was knackered but struggled to get it done. At 1 am, I heard Richard stumble into his room; 30 minutes later I looked in.
He wasn’t in; strange. I looked around and found him in the TV room, asleep across some chairs. I turned the TV volume off and silent pictures gave some light. I went to his room and got 4 rugby socks, some tracksuit bottoms and a g-string. I went in and still he slept. He wore just shorts and trainers. I tied each hand over his head to the armrest attached to the wall, and the same with his ankles. The g string gagged him and the trackie bottoms went as a blindfold. Perfect!
I returned to my room and got some tickle toys: a large white stiff goose feather, a blue fluffy one, a small pigeon one, a fork, a hairbrush, an electric tooth brush and baby oil.
I started with the stiff feather and drew it back and forth across his belly. He grunted and tensed his chest as I circled his nipples. When I probed his belly button he bucked like a champion….he was awake.
“MMPPFFGGGHHH…..AAMMMGGGGFFFHHH!!!!!”
I stopped and went to his feet. As I slipped off his left trainer he went WILD!!! My cock was throbbing already. I removed both shoes and tied his 2 big toes together and bent them back, immobilising his feet. I’m not sure, but I think I heard him sobbing…..
I ran the white feather slowly, heel to toe on each foot. His legs convulsed wildly as he screamed. My, my….it’s going to be a fun night!
I stroked up and down his arches as he wept, and moved to circle the balls of his feet; the guy went mad! After half an hour or so, I stopped as he gulped in air. I picked up the fluffy feather and gently flicked it over his feet, hardly touching, and then dug in on his arches and heels, then under the base of the toes, and sawing in between the toes as Richard lost it completely.
After another short break, I got out the electric toothbrush. He heard it click and whirr and began to moan in his gag:
“MM…nooo…please…..MMPPAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!!!!AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHEHEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE….MY FEEEEEEETTTT…..TOOOOOO….TICKLISH………NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
His gag had slipped but I carried on, as I was killing him with this brush.
Next I coated his soles with oil and ran the fork up and down his soles…he was too tired so he just moaned and cackled occasionally as he continually wept.
I stopped suddenly and didn’t touch him for a good 10 minutes as he struggled and worried, then I grabbed his love handles and kneaded solidly. He really hit the roof:
“NNNOOOOO!!!SSTTTOOOPPPP!!!!PPLLEEAASEE!!!!”
I dug in his underarms, his ribs and a new sweet spot: his inner thighs. His cock now made a tent. Without further ado, I ripped his shorts off and tickled his balls. He squealed!
“AAIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”
I picked up the pigeon feather and stroked his hard shaft…he moaned…I got the electric toothbrush and polished his knob for a good 10 minutes, not letting him come. During this, my fingers darted across his soles and he jumped a giggled wildly….if only I’d had a camcorder!!
It was now about 6:30 am. I would normally get up now, so I lubed up his cock with oil and pumped him. After 5 hours of denial, he was ready to shoot like a geyser. As he nearly came, I dug into his sides and he bucked like a bronco whilst not getting a release.
I locked my mouth over his 6” and ran my tongue around his tip whilst tickling his balls and inner thighs. He came like Niagra, and I took every drop…delicious. He was still conscious, so I tickled his feet some more until he passed out. I loosened him and put my stuff back in my room. I grabbed his ankles and dragged him into bed. He was shattered.
As I went to my room that day, Andy was inside it. He was on the team too, 6 ft, muscular and delicious. He shut my door and told me how he’d crashed on Richard’s sofa that night and saw me drag him in…he knew about it….then he asked a favour……
Jez
Posted on 14 October 2014 | 5:01 pm
Danny earns a final spanking from gay Coach Davis.
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Danny and Coach Davis Part 3 – Hotel Spanking
by Anonymous
Coach Davis was bent over at the waist, his large hairy nuts swinging freely between his thick thighs. His ample well rounded ass aimed toward the hotel room door. He stepped into the leg openings of of his scant leopard print thong and pulled them up over his meaty thighs. Just as the thin band of his sexy little under garment disappeared between his mountains of ass flesh the door burst open and in rushed Jake Morgan & Rick Spencer, two of the players on the senior boys baseball team that he coached. Both young men stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide as saucers, mouths hanging open as they saw the thong strap disappear between their coaches massive ass cheeks. The youths began to giggle at the sight of their macho coaches bare ass hanging out of his skimpy thong. Neither guy had ever seen their coach in this state of undress and they were shocked to see his taste in underwear leaned toward something so amazingly skimpy.
Coach Davis spun around, shocked and angered at the sudden intrusion. ‘What the hell?!’, he barked.
‘Sorry, Coach.’, said Rick. ‘It’s Danny.’
Of course it’s Danny thought Coach Davis. It’s always Danny Mannix. He is drawn to trouble like a moth to a flame. It had only been two short weeks since Danny’s father asked Coach Davis to help him bring discipline into Danny’s life. He had agreed under the proviso that he would call the shots and Mr. Mannix could not interfer. And here he was in trouble again.
Jake broke in,’He’s in a fight with Eric Flemming, the pitcher from the Falcons.’
Coach Davis shock his head in disgust. The guys were in the middle of an out of town tournament and now Danny was going to risk getting them thrown out. Suddenly realizing his state of undress Coach Davis grabbed his robe and threw it on as he raced from the room, Jake & Rick behind him.
At the end of the hall Danny was rolling around on the floor with the pitcher of the opposing team. All the members from both teams had come out into the hall to watch the fight. ‘Break it up!’, yelled Coach Davis but both young men ignored him and continued to scuffle on the ground. Coach Davis got closer and tried to separate the guys. In the commotion Coach Davis got knocked to the floor and his robe flew up exposing his thong clad ass. The team members from both sides began to laugh at the sight of the coach in his sexy underwear.
Coach Davis jumped in between Danny & the Falcons pitcher. All three fell to the floor as Coach Davis found himself entwined between the two teens. He pulled the boys to their feet and again the lunged at one another. He pulled the boys apart but then they dove at one another knocking him to the floor. In the commotion the coaches robe came untied. The three of them fell to the ground and Coach Davis’ robe fell open. The laughter got louder as the youths were now openly talking about Coach Davis animal print thong. As the fight continued Coach Davis’ robe somehow got pulled from his body. He now was rolling around on the floor in just his leopard thong with the two ball players.
One of the guys from the opposing team took the opportunity to grab the robe and throw it through the open door of his hotel room. There was no real reason for his action other than to add to Coach Davis’ humiliation. Now the coach had no way of covering himself. Then from out of nowhere there was the loud sound of a whistle blowing. Everyone stopped dead in their tracks as they saw Coach Tucker, coach of the Falons standing there, whistle in his mouth.
Coach Tucker looked Coach Davis up and down and with a sneer said, ‘Sexy panties, Davis.’
This got a huge wave of laughter from all the young men. Danny, Eric & Coach Davis all looked up at Coach Tucker who was glaring at Eric. ‘You know better than this, Eric. To your feet and to your room!’
‘Yeah, but Coach Tucker….’
‘I don’t wanna hear it. I said to your room!’
Without another word Eric rose to his feet and disappeared into his room.
‘That goes for the rest of you too!’, snapped Coach Tucker. The rest of the Falcons bolted to their rooms. No one messed with Coach Tucker.
Danny and Coach Davis, who wore only his leopard print thong, his gargantuan butt hanging out obscenely, both stood as well. Coach Davis tried to gather his composure, a task that was hard to do in his state of undress as he ordered his own team back to their rooms. To Danny he said, ‘Mr. Mannix, I want you in my room. We need to talk.’
The team all headed of to their rooms and Danny to Coach Davis’ leaving the two coaches in the hall alone together. Once more Coach Tucker looked Coach Davis up and down and said,’What the hell are you wearin’ Davis.’
Coach Davis blushed as he looked around for his robe,’I was wearing a robe. I guess it got yanked off somehow. I can’t imagine where it went.’
Coach Tucker just shook his head and laughed as he turned back toward his room and said, ‘Well, your panties are very pretty.’ This was followed by another loud burst of laughter from the man.
Coach Davis was humiliated but his anger at being humiliated rose to the surface and he stomped down the hall back to his room. His hefty butt jiggle with each foot fall. He entered his room and found Danny sitting on the edge of his bed flipping channels on the TV.
‘Da, Coach there ain’t nuttin’ good on TV ta watch.’
Coach Davis saw red. Danny was such an enigma to him. At eighteen years old Danny was every bit a man. And it showed physically but mentally he still acted like a kid. Here he was in big trouble for fighting and all he could think of was that there was nothing on television that appealed to him. And the way he just sat there staring at him with those big blue puppy dog eyes. His think dirty blond hair mused up from fighting. Coach Davis had to stop himself, yes Danny was attractive and yes he was of age but, he was the young man’s coach. The thoughts he was having were inappropriate. Coach Davis refocus on his anger. ‘Stand up Danny!’
Danny stood as Coach Davis paced in front of him, he still wore just his thong but now that his anger had taken over it was as if he had forgotten that. He stopped inches from Danny and looked him dead in the eye. ‘Your father asked me to help bring discipline into your life since he obviously can’t do it himself. In two short weeks this is the third time I have had to correct you! Why can’t you stay out of trouble!?’
Danny’s eyes darted all over the place,’I don’t know, Coach. Da, I mean I ain’t trying to cause no troubles for no one. It just sorta happens. Ya know?’
‘No, I don’t know, Danny. And since you can’t stay out of trouble it looks like you’ll have to take another trip across my lap. Now remove your clothing and get over my knee. You may leave your underwear on but remove everything else.’ With that last sentence Coach Davis sat on the edge of the bed.
Danny’s eyes grew wide but he knew it was coming so he just complied. He kicked of his sneakers and undid his belt. Next he undid his pants and let them fall to the floor. Today Danny wore a pair of bright aqua colored bikini briefs. The undergarment was at least a size or two too small for his over-inflated ass. His big white buns flowed freely out the back as the undies disappeared between his fat fleshy ass muffins. He then removed the rest of his clothing until he stood before Coach Davis in just his scant aqua bikini briefs.
‘I want you to bring me your belt, Danny.’
Danny just shrugged, a dopey look on his face, as he bent over to pull his belt free from his jeans. His large hind end was inches from the coaches face as he bent over. His underwear rode up high over his cheeks as more butt spilled forth. Now Danny stood before Coach Davis, belt in hand. Coach Davis took the belt and ordered Danny over his lap. By this point Coach Davis had completely forgotten his own state of undress. As the teen draped himself over his lap Coach Davis didn’t even think about the fact that all he wore was a skimpy little leopard print thong himself.
As Danny adjusted himself on the coaches lap the Coach looked down at the young man’s booty. It was absolutely perfect. It was so full and so round. It had just the right balance of fat & muscle. The perfect amount of jiggle yet firmness. Coach Davis had a nice ass, this he knew but Danny’s was perfect. Once again he just wanted to worship at the altar of this young man’s ass. He caught himself and brushed those thoughts aside. ‘I am his coach.’, he told himself. ‘His father asked me to discipline him and I will be true to my word.’
Coach Davis raised the belt above his head. He brought it down on Danny’s barely covered bottom. Crack! Danny winced in pain as the leather cut into his soft flesh. Again Coach Davis brought up the belt and brought it back down. Danny’s big rear shook. Coach Davis gulp as he watched the teens big butt jiggle.
Coach Davis continued to bring the leather belt down on the naughty teens plump caboose. As he did all he could think about was the last two times he had spanked Danny. Both times Danny had gotten hard and both times he had ejaculated. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help remember this with lust. This combined with the fact that Danny’s tiny underpants were riding up high over his plump hiney exposing more and more bare ass caused a stirring in the coaches groin. His own cock became engorged in his tiny leopard thong. At this point Coach Davis was so over taken with lust over Danny’s big pink bottom he had completely forgotten that all he wore was his thong and that his state of arousal would be evident in it.
Danny squirmed in the coach’s lap as his butt began to glow red. Danny’s legs were kicking causing his already bouncing ass to bounce even more. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Coach Davis continued to belt poor Danny. Danny began to moan out partly in pain but also in pleasure. Once again his own fat dick began to grow inside his tiny underwear.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Coach Davis could feel Danny’s fat prick digging into his thigh. he knew Danny was hard. he loved the way this dumb jock got off on being spanked. CRACK ! CRACK! CRACK!
Danny knew he was getting aroused. He didn’t understand it but he knew he was close to cumming, ‘Da, please coach stop!’, he pleaded.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! ‘I decide when to stop.’, said Coach Davis. He had been in this spot before. He knew why Danny wanted him to stop. He knew that the teen jock was close to cumming and he wanted him to cum. CRACK! Then all of a sudden Coach Davis stopped and ordered Danny to his feet. Danny was relieved, thinking that the spanking was over and that he would not ejaculate in front of his coach again.
Danny’s stiff cock was popping out the waistband of his tiny briefs a the coach said,’Remove those briefs and get back over my knee.’
Danny knew that all it would take was a couple more whacks and he would shoot his wad,’But, coach, you don’t understand…’
‘I understand that you are back talking me. Now no arguing remove your underpants and get back over my knee! NOW!!!’
Danny knew he had no choice as bent over to remove his itty bity briefs. His big butt hung out lewdly as he wiggled free from them tossing them on the floor. He now stood before his coach nude with a raging hard on but he really didn’t seem too embarrassed by it as he draped himself over his coaches lap again.
Coach Davis ran his bare hand over Danny’s bare red butt. It was omitting a large amount of heat and the teens smooth ass cheeks felt good to Coach Davis. He knew his feelings were wrong but he was swept up in lust. CRACK! CRACK! The belt came down twice more.
Two swats was all it took. Danny let out a loud yell of ecstasy as his semen came shooting out, running down the coach’s leg.One. Two. Three. Four. Five creamy wads of man juice came blasting from Danny’s fat dong. ‘AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!’
As Coach Davis felt the warm fluids hit his leg he stopped spanking. Once Danny’s body stopped convulsing from his intense orgasm Coach Davis ordered him to his feet. His dick dripped with cum. ‘Sorry, Coach. Da I tried to warn ya.’
‘It’s okay Danny. Don’t worry about it. Like I said before it happens. I just hope you have learned your lesson. No more fighting’
‘Da, yes, sir. No more fighting. I promise.’, said the teen.
‘Now get dressed and head back to your room. Tomorrows a big day.’
‘Yes, sir.’, said Danny as he slipped on his jeans and T and scoped up his sneakers in his hand. He made his way to the door. He opened it part way and was about to exit but instead stopped and turned to face Coach Davis looking down and the older man’s hard cock straining against his leopard print underwear, then he said,’It looks like I’m not the only one who got aroused by my spanked.’
At this Coach Davis looked down at his own fat hard dong and blushed. He had been so angry he forgot he was only wearing the tiny thong. But, now Danny had not only noticed but made mention of it.
Danny just gave him a stupid sort of smile and shrugged saying,’Like you said, ‘it happens’.’ With that he turned and departed the room.
Coach Davis was humiliated but also still very aroused from the latest spanking session with Danny. He looked down and noticed Danny had left behind his bikini. He bent down to pick them up. He help them before his face and marveled at how much was being held in by so little. The ass was completely stretched out of shape by the ball players huge ass. Coach Davis leaned back in bed popping his cock and massive balls over the waistband of his thong. He then scooped Danny’s cum from off his leg and smeared it all over his own cock using it for lube as he began to stroke himself off.
He took the young mans bikini briefs in the other hand and brought them to his face taking in the scent of the studs manly odor. He began sucking on the place where the tiny briefs had disappearing between the eighteen year old’s ass muffins. He stroked like a man possessed as he took in the smell and taste of the young stud. It took less than a minute before he blew his own huge wad. Cum came poring out of the coaches big dick. He moaned with pure lust as he collapsed back in bed.
In the afterglow of his intense ejaculation all Coach Davis could think was,’I wonder what Danny will do next to earn a spanking.’ He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t wait to find out.
The End
Anonymous
Posted on 14 October 2014 | 5:00 pm
Posted on 13 October 2014 | 9:28 pm
Cocky straight boy Rob gets tricked into getting tied up and tickled by his gay friend in this male tickling story by Glen.
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Straight Boy Tickle Trap
By Glen
I was working as a nurse’s aide in a nursing home when I met Ron: a cocky, smart-ass straight boy who worked on the Housekeeping staff, or the “Environmental Specialist” staff as he liked to call it. Hey, it’s the 90s–everyone’s a damn specialist of one kind or another.
Rob was a quintessential mid-west momma’s boy…(he was 26 years old and had never lived on his own) good natured, stupid, fun loving, and COCKY. If I had his scrappy, compact 5’10″ body, his boyish , clean-shaven charm, (as opposed to my slightly middle aged, average looking appeal), I suppose I’d be cocky too.
Rob and I hit it off instantly. The endearing thing about Rob was that he instantly treated me like a high school buddy. I mean, you would think that we had grown up snapping towels at each other in the boy’s locker room (I wish). He would stop at the nurse’s station with his housekeeping cart in tow and we would just bullshit for as long as we could get away with it. Then later in the day I would see him busting his ass to make up for the lost time.
Gossip travels fast at nursing homes–perhaps faster than any other workplace–and it didn’t take long for Rob to hear that nasty little rumor (okay, so it was the truth…that’s not the point) that I am gay. The funny thing was, that he had already put his foot in his mouth several times, once by teasing me on a day that I had received flowers from a boy I dated a few times (“Who are those from, your BOY-friend?”), as well as calling me “faggot” regularly, as guys are known to do while engaging in that male bonding thing that we do….
To Rob’s credit, he didn’t treat me differently at all after his discovery. If anything, he was more courteous and careful about saying something potentially offensive.
Shortly after this, I came upon Rob in the hall, bent over a running vacuum cleaner. His vulnerable sides were more than I could resist, so I scampered my fingertips quickly up and down his sides. I burrowed gently into the little groove between his abdominal and oblique muscles. I softly kneaded his “love handle” area (which was quite handle-less) and even scratched lightly around his waist toward the middle of his lower back/spine. The variety of sensations must have put him over the edge, cause I felt his muscles twitch violently and his whole body jerked to attention. He let out a yelp that was easily heard over the roar of his vacuum cleaner. He spun around, looked at me and grinned devilishly.
“Hey, knock it off…. Faggot!” He said, then he turned pale as he realized what he had said.
“Yeah, so what’s your point?” I grinned back.
“Oh…uh…I didn’t mean…I mean…it just slipped out….aw, man, I gotta watch what I say…” Rob stammered.
I just smiled and walked down the hall. Let him wonder if he’s pissed me off, I thought.
Later that day, Rob appeared, sheepishly, at the nurse’s station. “You know man, I didn’t mean nothin’ by what I said, I mean, you ain’t sore at me are ya?”
I couldn’t even pretend to be angry. Of course, I had to wonder, if he had a hump on his back and a club foot, would I be as forgiving? “Aw, forget it, Ron….anyone could see that you were kidding.”
A flash of relief crossed his face. “Well, lemme buy you a beer and make it up to you.”
“I might just take you up in that.”
Several nights later we were at a local dive a few blocks away in the Midway neighborhood in St. Paul, which is known all over the Twin Cities for it’s….rather unsavory characters.
“So..ya know that Aide–what’s her name–Donna?” Rob asked after taking a swig of his beer.
“Yeah, what about her?” I asked.
“You mean to tell me she don’t do nuthin for ya?”
“Not a thing.” I smiled.
“Damn,” Rob said, “That’s…..different…”
“Different from what?”
“Oh, I dunno….different than most guys, I guess.”
I had to admit, he had me on that one.
What Rob didn’t know, is that I had concocted a twisted little scheme before our meeting, and I was ready to put it into action.
“Actually, Rob, contrary to popular belief, I’m not strictly gay. I’m bisexual. In fact, I’ve been dating a woman for the past 4 months.
“No shit? Then how come everyone says you’re gay?”
“I guess cause it’s less confusing than saying I’m bisexual.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense.”
We ordered another round of beers.
“So–who is this woman you’re seeing. Is she hot?”
I smiled to myself. Boy…this was gonna be easier than I thought. “oh yeah she’s hot. but it’s not her looks that are the turn on….it’s the shit she’s into that really gets me off….”
Rob’s eyes widened. “Yeah? You mean the sex?”
“Oh yeah. She’s so fucking horny.. AND she’s turned me on to some really offbeat stuff. I mean WILD stuff. Stuff that it never would have occurred to me to do in bed.”
“No SHIT! Hey, does she have any single friends?”
I paused…took a LONG drink from my beer, then proceeded to phase two.
“Well, here’s the thing….can you keep somethin’ to yourself if I tell you something?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Well, we’re not exactly….like…going steady, if you get my meaning.”
“You mean, she’ll see other guys WHILE she’s dating you?”
“Yeah, why not. We have an open relationship.”
“Damn. But are you guys gonna get married or what?”
“Oh, I dunno. It’s too early to tell. We really care for each other, and we have a great time in the bedroom. But neither of us are the…monogamous type I guess.”
Rob shook his head and muttered to himself. “….damn that’s INTENSE.”
“Actually, we don’t have full-blown sex with other people. It’s more like just fooling around. Hand jobs and makin’ out and stuff. We reserve the GOOD STUFF for each other.”
Rob liked this answer, and he relaxed a little. This fit his 1950s “American Dream” value system a little better: at least we were “extra special” to each other in some small way. “So, what’s her name?” He asked.
“Susan.”
“So…what kinda…stuff…does she like?”
“Well, it’s kinda embarrassing to say…” I began.
“Aw, COME ON…we’re buddies right? What’s the big deal?”
“Well…okay ..but IF YOU BREATH A WORD OF THIS…!”
“No, man, I swear. You can trust me.”
“Well…..she.. ties me to the bed.”
Rob started laughing. “No way, man, are you SHITTING me? Aw that’s tight!…..Then what?”
“Well….she…has her way with me?”
“What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean? She sits on yer dick? gives you a blowjob? what?”
“Well, that’s the embarrassing part.”
“OH…CHRIST. Don’t do this to me. You can’t just leave me cold turkey like this!”
“Okay. I’ll just say that….she totally dominates me…it doesn’t involve pain, it can last for hours and it’s the MOST incredible fuckin orgasm I’ve ever had.”
Rob thought hard for a minute. “Is it something that EVERYONE would like?”
“I think so, but that’s just my opinion. I can’t speak for everyone.”
“You’re not going to tell me what it is, are ya, you SHITHEAD!”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t I set you up with her and you can experience it for yourself.”
Rob’s jaw dropped. Then he started laughing. “Yeah…RIGHT. You’re kidding, right? Ha ha. You’re NOT kidding, are you? Man, that’s too fucking bizarre….REALLY?
“I’m totally serious. I think it would be fun for her AND you.”
“That’s fuckin TWISTED, man.”
“Well, suit yourself…if you’re not interested, I’m sure not gonna twist your arm. That leaves all the fun for me…”
“NOW WAIT A MINUTE…..not so fast. You mean, you wouldn’t get pissed or anything if we got it on?”
“No why should I? I told you, we aren’t monogamous. If she IS gonna see someone else, I’d actually rather it were a friend of mine instead of some asshole…”
“What’s she doin’ this Friday night?” Rob practically jumped out of his barstool.
Okay, so I’m a liar. But I do know a Susan.. She’s my best friend. Just so happens, she’s a lesbian, and we wouldn’t have sex together unless we were the last two humans alive on a desert island and it was up to us to keep the human race alive….and even then we couldn’t screw and keep a straight face. Anyway, Susan and I were soul mates in every way BUT the sex. She knew about my love for tickling….actually thought it was “kinda cool,” though she had no real interest in it herself–wasn’t even ticklish, or so she said.
Susan had been in on my little scheme from the beginning…so Ron actually DID go to her place that Friday night. They had MANY cocktails on her couch…and after she had to deflect a rather tentative, juvenile come-on from Rob, she convinced him (with NO trouble) to let her tie him to her bed. I was hiding in the closet (pun intended), the whole time this was going on, and I was getting more and more crazy with lust as the scene continued. The evil deception of what I was doing was intoxicating! After what seemed like forever, Susan came out of the bedroom, opened the closet door and whispered to me:
“He’s all yours now,” she smiled. “He’s thrashing around like crazy. He was trying to get me to tell him what I was gonna do…but I’ll let YOU do the honors. I told him to just lie there and IMAGINE all the things that could happen to him now that he was totally vulnerable.”
“Aw, you’re the greatest, Sue. I owe ya big-time. You….DID let him know that things were totally safe…that he wouldn’t get hurt?”
“Oh, yeah. He trusts me….and you, too. I don’t think he’s freaked out or anything. He’s just a horny, curious little bastard who can’t seem to lie still.”
“Boy. I owe ya BIG TIME.”
“Damn right you do….Well, as much as I’d love to stick around, I think I’ll go to the coffee shop and write poetry or start a political rally or something……ya know…I am a LESBIAN after all.”
“Thanks, babe.”
Rob was twisting and struggling like mad when I went into the room. He was blindfolded, stripped naked and lying on only a sheet. I made plenty of noise so that he knew I was in the room. Naturally, he thought it was Susan, coming back to have her “way” with him. Before leaving the house, Susan walked with me into the bedroom and said, “Are ya ready for a little fun?”
Rob nodded and grinned. He thrust his pelvis upward (Obviously he thought this was going to be some kind of “genital” event….ha ha ha). Susan quietly left the house, leaving me alone with my victim. Rob’s breathing was labored and quick. He flexed against his restraints, lifting his blindfolded head up off the pillow to try and hear my movement in the room. I snuck around silently, giving him no clue as to what was going to happen. His body was tight and almost hairless. He had a flat belly and solid arms, legs and chest. He had a stocky (not fat) build, and his hands and feet were bulky and square-shaped–like the rest of his adorable body. He arched his back, causing his pits to become concave and his belly to rise. His ribcage fanned out, defining his midsection. His belly button stretched into a deep, horizontal slit from under a light bed of blonde fur. A nicely proportioned, semi erect dick flopped from side to side in the middle of a mound of curls. Strong thigh muscles tensed as his heels dug into the mattress, causing his soles to pull tight as his toes stretched back. He gave the bonds another tug.
“How long do I have to wait? You ain’t just gonna let me lie here all night, are ya?” Ron was trying to tease me (Susan) into taking action.
I inched up next to his waist. I aimed for the spot JUST BELOW the lower corner of each rib–right in the hollow where the ribcage ends and the belly begins. I let all ten gyrating fingers dangle in the air for a moment before slowly….lowering them….. to the target.
“YYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!” Rob’s body bucked so hard that the headboard of the bed actually thumped against the wall. he began panting and his head turned quickly from side to side.
“Hey, come on…that’s cold…I mean….ha ha ha…p-please don’t…t-t-t-tickle me…I’m REALLY ticklish. .come on…just gimme a nice blow job or somethin’, okay?
I lowered my fingers again….this time a little closer to his navel.
“AAAAAGH!” *whine* *pant pant* common, PLEASE? just stop it now. Stop playin’ with me and just get on with what you’re gonna do…I’m gettin’ really horny.”
I gave him a light test tickle on the insides of his thighs. Rob let out something between a moan and a scream….three of them…before his bucking body forced him into a convulsing belly laugh. I had barely touched him and he was already a wreck! I let him rest for a few minutes.
“…..okay WAIT a minute…are you just gonna tickle the shit out of me all night?” He let out a moan. then he started to whine and beg. Common, PLEASE….I’m so GODDAMN ticklish….just take it easy on me, okay? If you have to tickle me, just take it easy and just let me get used to–AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.!!!!!!!!!
I was fluttering my fingers in the hollow under his armpits. His torso twisted violently and I actually lost my light tickle grip on his pits…so I took the opportunity to scamper up and down his ribcage…I darted back in and out of his pits…tickled his neck, his ears, his shoulders…then I kneaded up and down his sides.
“OOOOOOOHO-HO-HO-HO ! PLE-E-E-E-EASE. God no-o-o-o! (*pant pant pant pant*) hee-hee-hee-he-hee-hee-HAW-HAW-HAW-HAW!!! Stop stop stop stop STOP PLEASE D-D-D-D-D-ON’T T-T-T-T-T-T-T-I-C-K-L-E–me hee-hee-hee-hee. Aw, shit SHIT!”
Ron’s dick rolled to one side and began to pulse as it grew puffy and red.
Soon the beautiful veined specimen pointed straight up and grazed the rim of a deep, oval innie. I fluttered my fingers into the curls on either side of Rob’s hardened dick–moving back and forth, inside and outside of his inner thigh area to either side of his balls. My fingers played around his hipbones, scritch-scratched the tops of his muscular thighs. I slithered my fingers behind his knees, scampered up and down his shins, calves, ankles. then he began to thrash and beg–his toes began clenching and unclenching. He KNEW what was coming!
“Please….mercy…mercy…NOT MY FEET!!! I can’t stand my feet tickled….oh, god, ple-e-e-e-ase. AAAW…ah.ha..ha…ha..ha…hee…heee….hee…hee…hee….haw haw haw HAW HA HA HA HA HA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!!!!!!!!! oh please ple-e-ese oh god oh god it tickles! ohgod not my FEETpleasehahahahah.
I continued my assault on his naked tootsies, probing his heels, soles, the balls of his feet. the tops and bottoms of his toes (as his toe-clenching made it possible). I brushed the tops of his feet with light taps, which made his legs tremble and his toes loosen their grip. I tickled around his calves and knees, which made his feet 10 times MORE ticklish when I returned to them. Rob’s laughter became deeper and more anguished. His giggles were more punctuated and gut-splitting. When I finally returned to his torso (his belly and belly button proved the most ticklish of his upper body) I lightly scrubbed his stomach and ribs, chest, nipples with my fingertips in a back-and-forth motion. I alternated rapid spider-crawling strokes with light, shallow jabs, then quickly moving squeezes and scampering, skittering taps with my dragging fingers. Every now and then I reached down and swirled my fingers quickly on the bottoms of his twitching feet….then I would work up and down the insides of his thighs. I noticed that his dick had been leaking pre-cum, and was a deep red color–almost purple. I slowed my tickling to a more erotic, leisurely pace. the tone of his laughter changed to moans of lust and pleasure. I grabbed a feather that I had in reserve and began brushing it across his stiffened dick. His body jolted violently as he tried to take the stimulation. He was far too aroused to speak…and just continued to writhe and thrash and squirm and moan…then giggle, gasp. As I moved the feather faster across his dick, he began to hyperventilate. HE WAS GOING TO BLOW. I took the opportunity to circle with my probing, wiggling fingers, around his tender belly, which twitched and tensed at my slightest touch. He gasped with ticklish pleasure each time I touched his heaving belly. I wormed my swirling fingers as far inside his pulsating little innie as I could. He let out a series of quick gasps, followed by about five heaving pants. He finally let out a guttural cry that sounded like a wolf howling at the moon. His juice squirted in thick streams all over his chest and belly, up over his shoulders, on the mattress beside his pillow. His body shook violently during an orgasm that seemed to last for 10 minutes. Even after he had been drained completely, he lie there twitching and shaking for at least a minute. He smiled from under his blindfold and muttered to himself
“Damn……..”
I wiped Ron up with a warm, damp towel, covered him with a blanket, then waited anxiously for Susan to return. Thankfully, she was back about 15 minutes after Ron blew his wad. I quietly slipped out as she came in. It was agreed that she would untie him, let him get dressed, and send him on his way.
The next day at work, I was bent over a drinking fountain when I felt fingers burrowing into my sides. I yelped and turned around to see Ron grinning at me.
“How was your date with Susan?” I asked nonchalantly.
“It was a fuckin mind-blower. You shoulda warned me, you kinky pervert. Damn, I never felt anything like THAT before.”
I smiled…”Yeah…it’s pretty awesome really. I gotta take it in small doses, actually, cause it makes me so crazy.”
It was a fun time, but truthfully, I don’t know if I’d ever repeat it.”
“Oh no?”
“I dunno. Rob grinned. “Next time I might want to be on the OTHER side…if you know what I mean.”
I felt my face get hot. “Oh REALLY?!” I said.
“We’ll see,” Rob said coyly, “maybe I will be the victim again, who knows, or maybe I’ll have to take turns…” Rob said as he walked away.
Not only did I have a ticklish boy toy for an evening…it was beginning to look like I had a tickle convert on my hands.
When I got back to the nurse’s station, I found a note in an envelope addressed to me. I opened it and read:
I know that was YOU tickling me the other night, you crazy mutherfucker.
I’m gonna get you back when you least expect it!
Ron
Luckily, there was a chair under me behind the nurse’s station, or I would have collapsed to the floor.
Glen
Posted on 9 September 2014 | 5:10 pm
A straight boy model gets tricked into a gay bondage predicament by a shady photographer in this art series by Chirenon.
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Straight Boy Tricked into Bondage – Art Series
by Chirenon
Chirenon
Posted on 5 September 2014 | 5:15 pm
A straight Adonis seems destined to be abducted by someone in the hot opening chapters to Eric Lane’s latest story.
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Straight and Bound: Curt – Chapters 1-6
By Eric Lane
Written March 2014 Can reproduce without permission if full author credit is given. laneeric@hotmail.com
Author’s Note:
This is the first story I posted on the web (2014) in about 10 years! Due to large size of this story (one of the longest I have written), I will be posting separating (fairly immediately) the other chapters and conclusion – which I have already written. The “Straight and Bound” part of the title of this story refers to a series of previous stories – written and posted back in the 1990′s and early 2000′s. I wrote three of those stories – which is why this story, focusing on a new person named Curt, is “Part 4″. I will also be posting several other new stories (that I began writing many years ago but am now finishing). I appreciate any comments on this story on the Gaybondagefiction.com site to help keep me going to write more! Thanks – Eric Lane laneeric@Hotmail.com
CHAPTER 1 – NOAH’ S OBSESSION
Noah, as he always did at the end of his workday for the past several months, made his quick friendly pro forma goodbyes to co-workers without stopping, as if he were late to an appointment. Well liked by his co-workers, none of them were bothered by his abrupt manner at the end of the work day. For the past year he was always in a hurry to leave. He never said why and brushed off friendly inquiries from his co-workers who just shrugged off his behavior as a personal quirk. Several women in the office who were attracted to Noah wondered if he was seeing someone, always assuming it was a female and never suspecting that he was gay.
Noah never paid any attention to those friendly speculations of his private life. It never bothered him either way which had more to do with his single minded obsession. Like clock work the 30 year old accountant would rush out to his car, stopping by the same nearby restaurant for a take-out dinner order that he always called in ahead. Picking the order up he would race his SUV, as he did every day from work, to his second floor apartment just a few miles away with growing excitement as if the Super Bowl was on or he had a hot date waiting. Neither was happening.
Instead, after a quick change into a t-shirt and basketball shorts, Noah went into his study and got on his computer, opening the box of his take-out dinner and sipping on a beer, as he did every night work.
The face staring back at Noah from the computer blank screen warming up before it showed the login screen, showed a reflection of an average looking face with a full head of dark brown hair that he knew some said was cute. But nothing extraordinary about his looks. His build was not fat but not muscled either – naturally toned but average. Even his dick and balls were average in size (6-1/2 inches hard and cut like most other American males, with walnut sized testicles held together by a tight scrotum bag). The rest of him was average – average in height at 5 feet 10 inches, average in shoe size (9-1/2) and average in weight for his height and frame at 165 lbs.
He was to his co-workers, family and anyone else in the outside world a young man who appeared to be happy, successful and entirely normal – your average young 30 year old guy.
Noah believed that he was all those things – but he did keep some dark secrets from everyone else he knew or came in contact with.
It was what some might consider a unusual sexual fantasy, not your garden variety day dreaming of fucking a beautiful movie star or having sex on a football field. His fantasies could include those things too – if the beautiful movie star was a young handsome straight young male – Robert Pattinson or Liam Hemsworth or Chris Evans or Andrew Garfield perhaps – who was tied down, stripped naked and forced to cum against his will. Or if a handsome straight young jock was similarly tied spread-eagle naked on a football field while being manhandled by thousands of spectators who would force him to shoot his load over and over.
Others might view those fantasies as dark and maybe extreme. But that didn’t bother Noah the least. He knew everyone had their own dark sexual fantasy that if told to others might look weird or depraved. So he wasn’t bothered by his own. He rationalized he wasn’t actually ashamed of his own secret – he was just selfish about it. He didn’t want to share it, as if it was some treasure or prize meant only for him. At least that is what he rationalized to himself.
A few times in his distant and recent past he did some things where his dark fantasies would intrude on some other people’s lives that when caught, did cause him embarrassment. But he always thought those unfortunate incidents were worth that embarrassment never once feeling any remorse for possibly hurting the feelings or privacy of the persons he intruded on.
Noah’s dark secret fantasy was tied to the biggest obsession of his life – a very handsome 22 year old straight guy who lived for the past year in the apartment below him. His name was Curt.
It was Noah’s fixation of that straight boy that caused him to leave work in a rush – sometimes even to call in sick. He would eavesdrop all night on what Curt was doing in his apartment below, especially his sexual conquests in his bedroom, which was right below Noah’s. Noah also installed small hidden high resolution video cameras outside his balcony pointed down the walkway and the pool below on the other side of the walkway in front of his building to spy on him at the apartment complex pool or when he lounged or caught some rays on his patio deck below Noah’s. Noah would leave work quickly in order to catch those live streamed videos that were automatically saved to his hard drive that may have captured Curt shirtless at the pool where he often hung out.
At 6 foot 3 inches and 185 pounds and age 22 years, size 12 shoe size, Curt – in Noah’s eyes, but in many others too – was the perfect specimen of a young athletic male.
He was a college athlete, movie star handsome, but yet retained a boyish look about his face. His hair was brownish blonde, cut short, and eyes that were green with long lashes that melted the hearts of girls and even older and married women in Noah’s apartment complex. He was the cute boy who they wanted to bake cookies for AND at the same time wanted him as their own ultimate dream fuck.
He was the perfect ripped package of muscled shoulders, rounded biceps, defined hard mounds of pecs, flat slab of 8 pack abs, narrow waist, proportioned muscled thighs and legs that retained the natural lean build of the high school and college wrestler he once was.
His smooth body was accented by tufts of manly brownish hairs in both armpits, a sexy treasure trail that sneaked down to a full – but not overly hairy pubes framed by a dusting of wiry curly brown hairs covering the inside and outside of his thighs and legs up to his tight butt crack.
He loved Curt’s belly button that to Noah looked like it was sculpted out by an artist with an eye for classic male beauty. Below that halo of treasure trail of wiry curly hairs – as Noah later discovered – was a 7 inch long un-cut cock that grew he estimated to over 9 solid inches of solid fat fuck meat ready to pump its load into a waiting hungry pussy. His immense prick rested over two duck egg sized balls in a loose scrotum.
Noah remembered when he first saw him a year earlier when he first moved in.
Noah couldn’t believe the sight he was seeing – an incredibly handsome young man, wearing sunglasses, shirtless and tanned, wearing faded old ripped jeans with an inch or two of this underwear waist band showing, his muscles bulging carrying several boxes into the vacant apartment below.
Empty for the past several months, someone was obviously moving in, and Noah, awe struck by the youth’s beauty, stared at him as he walked below and inside. Noah prayed that the boy was not just a helper or hired hand but was actually the person who was going to live there. And hopefully alone. Moments later the young man walked out of the apartment headed to the parking lot just a few yards away. Noah watched the boy, seeing his muscled tanned back, and how his tight slim cut jeans seemed to be sculpted around his muscled bubble butt that flexed as he walked with a certain air of cocky arrogance and indifference. Noah almost drooled seeing the boy’s sexy waistband of what looked to be boxer type briefs. Oh how sexy that was to Noah.
Noah noticed that the boy had ear phones and followed the white thin cord to a smart phone in the pocket of his jeans. He was obviously walking in rhythm to whatever music he was listening to in a way that was sexy and highlighted every muscle on his shirtless tanned body. His walk though, Noah decided as he watched the boy walk down the pathway was more of an intimidating “I-don’t-give-a-fuck” swagger of a entitled handsome straight jock boy. Noah sighed with the fantasy in his mind of how he would love to see this boy abducted, stripped naked, hogtied and slowly forced to cum against his will.
Noah took several pictures discreetly from his balcony of the boy as he walked away. Noah’s mouth watered when the boy returned carrying in each hand two large completely filled athletic bags walking slowly that showed off his tanned muscled pecs, large succulent quarter sized nipples and 8 pack abs centered by the sexiest bellybutton Noah had ever seen. How he wanted to tongue that hole. He noticed the boy’s treasure trail of curly dark hairs that sexily disappeared into the waistband of Curt’s underwear jeans that bulged out suggestively teasing Noah’s fantasies of what must be a huge piece of straight boy fuck meat tightly curled up in there . My God, this boy was perfect Noah thought and prayed that he was the one moving in – and that he wasn’t just helping someone else.
Noah, seeing the boy coming back toward the apartment carrying two boxes of books, rushed downstairs as if he was going about his regular business. As if by pure accident, Noah bumped into the boy, who was just leaving the apartment again to head back his car. Noah, trying desperately to hide his giddiness said hi and asked if he was moving in. The boy, still wearing dark glasses, unplugged the ear phones from both ears, hanging it from his neck, and asked “what?”
“Are you moving in?” Noah repeated almost growing faint and feeling tongue-tied from seeing the boy close-up, stripped to the waist. Noah could smell the boy’s masculine clean sweat and see beads of perspiration trickle down his forehead, neck, chest and hairy brown armpits. To Noah, just a few feet away, the boy was even more sexy and beautiful. He tried to not stare but he couldn’t help but look at the boy’s chest and look down at the large bulge in the crotch of his jeans. He noticed the little tufts of wiry brownish hairs coming from his sweaty armpits and wanted desperately to tongue and lick that area. He quickly looked directly at the boy’s face, hoping he didn’t notice how much Noah wanted his body.
“Yeah. Sorry…earphones,” the youth said in a way that sounded hurried and somewhat annoyed at being interrupted. He didn’t offer his hand or introduce himself though he tried to appear cordial. He lifted his left arm to scratch the back of his head, exposing completely his armpit haloed by tufts of his wiry curly brown hairs glistening with sweat. Noah’s mouth gaped open in lust seeing that casual display of the raw sexiness of Curt’s body. God how sexy this boy was Noah thought as he stared at Curt’s bulging biceps.
“Oh, great! My name is Noah. I live upstairs…been here for the past 5 years. Anyway welcome! Can I give you a hand?” Noah said trying to control his almost school-girl crush giddiness, holding out his hand. He couldn’t wait to feel the touch the boy’s hand and feel his grip, though tried not to act excited or to stare at his chest crotch. Seeing close-up the boy’s rounded biceps, he couldn’t believe how beautifully muscled the boy was.
The youth politely put out his hand, shaking Noah’s with a strong but very brief grip, introducing himself as Curt. He politely declined the offer of help saying “I got it…almost done. Uh…but thanks.” With that, the boy said had to finish up, and put his earphones back on and head headed back to the parking lot walking in rhythm to the music that Noah found so sexy. It was some hip hop music Noah could hear from the ear phones just before the boy put it back into his ears.
Noah went back upstairs, but from his balcony he tried to hide himself so he could video tape, stare and drink in the beauty the sexy shirtless boy as he continued to move boxes into his apartment.
From that first moment Noah laid eyes on the boy he lusted after the Curt because of his looks – his arrogant personality towards him and his likely deserved reputation as a lady pleaser in bed. He loved his arrogant cocky attitude because it fueled his fantasies that Curt was a straight boy who desperately needed to be abducted, tied up spread-eagle on a milking bed and then edged and milked for hours and hours – screaming at having his cock touched by a guy – and worse having it tormented over and over by excruciating polishing of his knob over and over as he shrieked from the unbearable sensations.
He came off as borderline homophobic – at least to Noah, with an arrogant dismissive attitude toward him, perhaps accurately sensing Noah’s intense interest in him.
When he passed Noah in the apartment parking lot, or pool area or heading to his apartment, he never said more than a barely cordial “hey” or “whatsup” without ever looking at or stopping to hear Noah’s response. Like some pathetic high school girl crush, Noah could only sigh and watch longingly as the boy passed by him, inhaling wisps of his scent of deodorant and clean sweat and see his bubble butt flex as he walked by.
That was the extent of Curt’s acknowledgement that Noah was even alive. The longest conversation he ever had with the boy was the day he was moving in. Noah didn’t realize that Curt, wearing sunglasses, could see clearly how Noah was staring at him in a way that made Curt feel uncomfortable.
That cocky arrogant straight boy attitude that was to Noah both intimidating and alluring always triggered an explosion of the dark fantasies in the part of his brain that became obsessed with tying up Curt to teach him a lesson in cock control by repeatedly edging and milking him against his will to the point of driving the boy to the brink of shrieking insanity.
Noah would sniff the air trying to smell the boy’s scent again – and then smile almost in an evil way – as if to hide from his good side the thoughts he was thinking. He knew he would never act on those thoughts – but oh was he tempted whenever Curt was near. He even thought out a plan of abduction. But it wasn’t serious. Still – just the smell of him would trigger those thoughts.
Those thoughts would be triggered also when Curt, wearing sun glasses, would swagger around looking to pick up a girl around the apartment pool or club house shirtless wearing low-slung board shorts that clung to his skin showing off a rounded muscled butt and a prominent delectable bulge. Noah thought he could almost see sometimes Curt’s dick flexing its boyish yet manly hardness for his many female admirers in the complex, secretly taking pictures of the boy. Oh if I could just have him for one day Noah thought, one day.
Curt on the prowl always drove Noah to distraction – and a mixture of jealousy (of the girls), and lust knowing that Curt was horny and looking to be laid. He pictured Curt stripping naked, his dick steel hard pointing straight out 8 or 9 inches, oozing gooey strings of honey-like sticky straight boy pre-cum and then fucking whatever girl was in his bed like a muscled pile driving machine.
But most other times – during the day at least – all Noah could do was to stare at him while walking around the pool area or his apartment patio below his balcony without a shirt that showed off his muscled abs and pecs – and brown armpit hairs and a treasure trial coming from a concave belly button that Noah thought was incredibly sexy.
If Noah was a non-entity to Curt with no hope of ever seeing him naked or seeing him fuck or forcing him to cum against his will, he could at least hear the straight stud pile drive his many different girl friends with his meaty prick.
In his effort to eavesdrop on what Curt was doing downstairs, Noah accidently discovered, a few days after he moved in, a large white plastic pipe behind a wall panel in his bedroom. The panel came loose and he detached it and through the insulation saw the pipe that rose about five feet from the floor – but was left open and didn’t go anywhere further up. He looked up and there was no pipe going to the roof. The construction workers must have made a mistake and tried to cover it up.
Noah realized this mistake could be a valuable tool to listen in on his hunky new neighbor below. His bedroom was right below his – and the wall with the pipe was the same wall that his bed was against. He could hear Curt’s muffled voice through his bedroom floor talking on his cell phone – and the muffled sound of what he assumed was a TV. Very muffled and indistinct. He quietly walked to the open pipe and put his ear near it, holding his breath. Though not crystal clear, Noah was shocked how he could hear everything as if he was in the next room and the doors were open. My god, Noah realized his obsession building, he could listen to Curt going to the bathroom, masturbating and best of all – having sex! The only thing missing was video of all those things, which wasn’t possible – but listening in was the next best thing.
Noah would cover the wall every time he left the apartment (in case the manager ever entered for some reason – which he never did) but for the entire year Curt lived below him, he always listened in on the boy’s activities in his bedroom below. Noah found a way to record the audio, which preserved hundreds of hours of sound recordings of Curt talking on the phone, pissing, showering, what appeared to sound like his masturbating and very clearly, having sex. He was a tireless, loud and headboard busting lover.
Over the next 11 months, through the plastic pipe in the wall, Noah could hear Curt with one of his many dates that he brought home – laughing, getting a little drunk and high – and then always, he would end the late night with a long intense fucking.
From that pipe, Noah was able to confirm from the noise below what he already surmised by the steady stream of visits by different girls to Curt’s apartment below: the handsome youth when it came to sex was insatiable and that served – at least for Noah – to highlight even more the physical prowess of Curt’s lean muscled body.
Someone as beautiful and sexy looking as Curt had to be a sex hound in bed – and on that score he delivered with powerful piston like thrusts of his pelvis into the quivering pussies of so many girls in his bedroom below that Noah could hear.
He could listen to Curt’s animal-like panting grunts, the bed’s headboard loud pounding against the wall as his thrusting became more urgent and intense – and then the girl’s shriek that marked her reaching a mind shattering orgasm – and Curt’s always loud “FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH!!!” when he shot his load. He could visualize from the sounds Curt’s fat engorged fuck meat pulverizing the girl’s hungry grateful pussy with his deep machine like thrusts of his pelvis. Hearing the noise so clearly downstairs through the pipe, Noah could imagine the two halves of Curt’s muscled butt cheeks opening his man trench and snapping tightly shut with each thrust into the girl. Oh God Noah would sigh, how he would have loved to have seen that and lick that hairy trench as he fucked the girl.
Noah could tell when his straight boy Adonis would shoot his load because suddenly the sound of Curt’s urgent animal-like thrusting – the noise of the bed hitting the wall – all stopped immediately. Noah surmised that the boy’s dick had to be extremely sensitive after cumming – because of that – and because one time he thought he heard the boy squeal after he apparently shot his load in the girl – and she apparently touched or stroked his dick right after he pulled out. He could hear, through the pipe, the straight jock yell “OOOOH SHIT!!!” and then the sound of his angry sounding voice ordering her to stop. He definitely didn’t like that.
That sound of Curt’s grunting sexy voice while being pleasured and fucking all those girls triggered powerful lustful feelings. The tone, the sound of that reedy boyish yet masculine jock voice – the way he grunted like an athlete trying to get through the intense pumping of sex. Oh how Noah wished he could have seen Curt perform in bed with all those girls. But hearing it was better than nothing. And Noah would listen to those audio recordings of Curt having sex. Over and over. To Noah, Curt was the ultimate straight boy who needed to be trained and forced to endure edging and orgasm that he could not control. And Noah wanted to be that person who forced all that to happen.
Curt did a two-some with two beautiful girls who also lived in the apartment complex a few days before he moved. Noah, as he always did when stalking Curt, would always place himself in the vicinity wherever he was in the complex, especially if he was shirtless and around the pool area.
That particular day in the late afternoon was still sunny and extremely hot and humid, with everyone else keeping indoors with their ACs running on full blast. Noah, had no intention of staying indoors when his idol was parading around shirtless. He quickly rushed down to the pool area, wearing sun glasses, and kept a safe distance in the pool area not too far away from Curt and the girls in the Jacuzzi, and acted like he was watching his I-Pad-like device, while dipping his bare feet in the main pool. His I-Pad-like device was actually taking video of the three in the Jacuzzi.
With an eagle eye he watched Curt, wearing just tight thin fabric beige board shorts that seemed to hug his muscled butt cheeks and crotch with what clearly was a semi-hard tube of man meat point down his left thigh obscenely and probably on purpose for the benefit of the two girls he was with. The two girls were doing their own number on the horny straight jock, wearing skimpy swim suits that revealed very big tits and curves, enjoying themselves in the hot water of the Jacuzzi.
All three were clearly getting drunk – and were still drinking in the Jacuzzi,, though that was against the apartment complex rules. The strong alcohol buzz made Curt and the girls lose some of their inhibitions with talking and laughing getting louder and more boisterous. The three were definitely getting more horny – aided by the hot water and the swirling jets of the Jacuzzi.
Noah noticed that Curt would often back up against what he knew was the location of one of the more powerful shooting jets coming from the side and bottom of the Jacuzzi. He could tell that the handsome straight boy was clearly enjoying the feeling of the intense water pressure against his asshole and crotch. He noticed when that happened Curt would briefly close his eyes – with the long lashes that girls loved – tilt his head back slightly and suppress a moan – and then quickly acted as if nothing happened, repeating it a couple of more times. He probably would have shifted his tight asshole and dick even closer to the swirling strong jets that would have made him cum if there wasn’t any girls in the Jacuzzi with him, Noah thought excitedly. But that straight boy seemed never to lack any female companionship ever.
Still it thrilled Noah to see Curt’s intimate private reaction to having the strong pulsating swirling jets of hot water stimulate his virgin straight asshole and dick – as if Noah was a voyeur in Curt’s bedroom watching him pleasure himself. The girls didn’t seem to notice though were clearly hot for Curt touching his shoulders and trying to get close to him.
Noah then watched the three laugh, giggle and eventually slowly climb out of the Jacuzzi into the hot humid night. Noah held back a huge gasp upon seeing Curt come out of the water, warm water streaming from his wet brown short hair, his tanned muscled pecs, back and abs, with his winking bellybutton with the swirling hole and treasure trail plastered down to his beige thin board shorts clinging now to his tanned skin that lewdly showed off his bubble butt ass, with the wet thin fabric wedged into his crack, while outlining what clearly was a large semi-hard dick and balls ready for action.
The girls quickly followed and all three, with towels slung over their shoulders, staggered back to his apartment walking by Noah. Only the two girls acknowledged Noah’s presence, with a little wave of their hands giggling with excitement, knowing they were minutes away from seeing Curt naked and having his huge prong stuck in their hot snatches. Curt, with beads of water coming out of his sexy bellybutton and from his model perfect hair and armpits with his board shorts clinging obscenely to his crotch and butt, staggered quickly passed Noah, and totally ignored him – as he always did.
That straight boy dismissive arrogant attitude only fueled Noah’s obsession and lust. Within seconds he quickly followed them to their building, instead going upstairs to his apartment and like he always did when he knew Curt was having sex, removed the wall panel in his bedroom that hid that exposed plastic pipe that ran down to the inside wall of Curt’s first floor apartment bedroom wall. The same wall that his queen sized bed headboard was against.
He would never forget listening to the loud animal like noise below his apartment from that especially intense encounter accented by the steady strong pounding against the wall of that bed headboard until Curt shot his load. All three went at it almost immediately upon entering Curt’s apartment below, staggering (Noah imagined) to his bedroom, stripping off their clothes and then the three going at it. Noah knew their drunken state both made them extremely horny and hastened their orgasms. Still it was a long intense fuck – which Noah later learned included the two girls going at Curt, blowing him and sucking at his balls.
But Noah surmised from the sounds below that like nearly all girls, the servicing was passable and simply a brief interlude charging Curt up for the real show: sticking his hard prick into their pussies at first fucking the shit out of them – and then after 20 minutes, having one of the girls ride his dick while he ate out the other to a eye popping orgasm for the two (something Noah later learned from overhearing the girls talk at the pool two days later).
Curt shot his load, cumming last, and Noah could hear him being playfully attacked by the two girls who touched and stroked his still hard dick, wet with his cum and pussy juice for a few seconds as he shrieked “OH NO!!!!” and got them to stop.
“OH NO!!!!”. He loved that anguish in Curt’s voice. A slight quiver of fear or trepidation in the otherwise masculine voice that delighted Noah to no end. Oh how Noah wished he could have made Curt scream out those words over and over as his sweaty muscled straight boy body, splayed out and tied down was unmercifully edged past orgasm and beyond: “OH NO!!!”
Noah later overheard the two girls – two days later – at the pool – talking with another girl about their time with Curt. Both were still clearly hot for the boy. After one of them rode him to orgasm, they told the other girl how one of them hugged him tight and kissed him and tongued his sexy ears, while the other suddenly shifted and sat on his thighs and grabbed his hard dick after he came inside of her. Momentarily pinned down by both girls – and not expecting what was to happen, Curt’s body relaxed even more in the afterglow of being pleasured. The girl on his thighs however had other ideas and started to stroke it, suck it and stroke until he literally shrieked from the unbearable sensation and quickly pushed her off.
“He’s very sensitive there after he cums,” the girl said to the other smiling licking her lips recalling lewdly the taste of Curt’s cum, as all three laughed. They all wanted to have Curt again and invited the third girl to join in next time. He clearly was to them, Noah could see, a piece of Alpha Male Prime Beef that they lusted after. He smiled to himself realizing again how Curt sexiness seemed to attract dark fantasies from both sexes.
He listened more as the three girls plotted among themselves to try to hold him down to tickle him and stroke his cock after he came. Two of the girls Noah learned from their talking, did some previous work in a fem dom video site and so had experience in dominating a guy. He heard them talk about bringing a spreader bar to tie his legs for full access to his crotch and other “toys” as they put it..
Noah was both shocked by the three girls somewhat sadistic tendencies – that surprised him because they looked so beautiful and normal. But he realized he looked normal and had those same – if not even more extreme thoughts about the same boy. Noah felt so envious of those two girls – who had the naked boy partially restrained with their bodies, even if only for a few seconds. They had him. Forced a reaction from him. For a few seconds Curt was at their mercy and helpless. Oh how Noah wished he could have been there to hold his legs and grab that sensitive dick.
“OH NO!!!!”. Oh yeah. That anguished cry.
The two girls clearly loved seeing him struggle and scream out with his masculine voice. But Curt moved out – to their surprise – before they had the chance to hook up with him again. So he wasn’t the only on left unfulfilled about Curt. But unlike them, he still had his videos and pictures – and clothes of his idol. But oh how he wished he could have realized his fantasy and had Curt tied spread-eagle stripped naked on a bed, his legs splayed out by a spreader bar and forced to cum over and over.
CHAPTER 2 – NOAH’S OBSESSION DISCOVERED
The recollection of the sounds and loud animal like grunts and moans of Curt when he lived below Noah triggered other memories that always made Noah’s dick hard.
He remembered how he would catch Curt just in his tight boxer bulging briefs that clearly showed a the outline of a large tube steak and balls, walking or lying down in his enclosed patio area catching some rays. He looked to Noah like the perfect Abercrombie and Fitch model -or even some gay porn star. God he wanted to suck Curt’s cock and balls so badly when he saw him like that.
He even thought of offering him a lot of money for the privilege of servicing his straight cock, with a higher price negotiated for tying him up while doing it. While Curt seemed to have some money problems and bills – he wasn’t ever in short supply of girls to satisfy his needs. But Noah was too intimidated by Curt who was barely cordial to him and most of the time totally ignored him. In any case Noah didn’t think that Curt would agree to any such deal anyway – no matter what the amount of money. The boy was too straight and straight with an attitude. That made Curt even more desirable to Noah, with his “fuck you” attitude fueling Noah’s dark fantasy of abducting him and edging the shit out of him against his will.
Instead all Noah could do was carefully video tape the boy laying out there from his camera and cell phone and later jack off watching it. He wondered what Curt’s dick and balls looked like – how long it was limp and how big it got hard. He wondered obsessively how Curt’s junk smelled like – and would give anything to have had the chance to explore his tied up body and sniff every part of it.
He could only imagine all that – from the bulge he would see during the time Curt was lying out in his patio or at the pool.
But one hot afternoon – actually the day before he left – Curt was either drunk or high, and came out to his patio stark naked and just flopped face down on the patio recliner. Noah – who never missed the opportunity to spy on his neighbor – couldn’t believe it. He stared down carefully and saw the most beautiful body – and an ass – white that contrasted with the rest of his tanned body – that was two perfect smooth unblemished melons, centered by a dark slightly hairy crack. He looked passed out – and Noah, beside himself with lust, became less cautious and careful – and now leaned over his balcony completely to stare and video tape the naked boy just below him.
Noah, giddy with excitement, took video from a video cam and holding his digital camera, gasped as Curt, smacking his lips in sleep, turned over, exposing now his front – and seeing for the first time this straight boy’s lush brown pubic hair that framed his limp 6 inch cock over his walnut sized hairy balls that grew semi-hard and pointed toward his bellybutton. Curt’s arms were was covering his face and stomach above his navel as he could hear the boy’s slight snoring.
Noah – seeing Curt’s thick snake like dick grow semi-hard thought the boy must be having a real hot dream and was hoping maybe he would have a wet dream – though Curt – at age 22 – was too old and getting too much action for that. He was clearly passed out or in a deep sleep. Or was it a straight boy invitation for Noah to “help a buddy out” and blame the indiscretion on being drunk.
Noah saw below him Curt’s long uncut fuck stick – the foreskin was partially pulled back because his prick was semi-hard, the knob normally sheathed, glistening with his fuck juice. Noah was nearly faint from seeing the sight of his fantasies, desperately wanting to sniff his knob and lick the man juices that coated it, clean and lick his foreskin. He quickly weighed the thought of whether Curt was inviting him to “help him out”.
Noah briefly considered rushing downstairs and jumping over the patio fence below and give Curt’s prick a well deserved expert sucking. Besides, Noah desperately wanted to see Curt’s dick steel hard – and wondered how big it would get. He wanted to sniff and smell his cock head, and lick the inside of the boy’s foreskin. It seemed his dream fantasy was coming true. He clearly was passed out – or in a deep sleep, and he would never know Noah thought as his heart thumped harder and harder in anticipation and fear.
Lost in that thought and still video taping the boy, he let the digital camera fall out of his hand, and – to his horror – saw it fall quickly below, falling right on top of Curt’s tanned pecs – and unfortunately for Noah, waking him up. Curt, startled, sat up from the recliner, now wide awake, causing the camera to fall to his crotch. Instinctively he looked up and saw to his shock, a now red faced wide eyed Noah still holding a video camera pointed down at him. The youth angrily yelled “what the fuck are you doing????”
Noah backed away quickly into his apartment, scared and totally embarrassed. He wanted to hide and was scared Curt would come upstairs and break his door down – he could claim self-defense, but he was clearly guilty of invading Curt’s privacy – and his camera now in his possession had all the evidence.
And then with dread Noah remembered the camera that fell on Curt’s chest – it was still on and if he checked the stored pictures he would see the shots that Noah took of him naked below – and worse – hundreds of shots of other pictures and several short video clips of Curt without his shirt on outside the apartment complex, at the pool, and in his patio – some with Curt wearing nothing but his underwear. All taken without Curt’s consent or knowledge.
Noah heard Curt’s loud voice below – aimed at his balcony “YOU FUCKIN PERVERT!!!! FUCKIN TAKING PICTURES OF ME!!!! I’M FUCKIN KEEPING YOUR CAMERA DUDE! WHAT THE FUCK ARE ALL PICTURES OF ME? FUCKING FAGGOT.. YOU STAY AWAY FROM ME OR I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!!!!”
With that Curt went inside his apartment and shutting his patio sliding door hard. Noah – too scared to do anything but stay inside his apartment – could hear him downstairs talking loudly to himself cursing for a minute or two, and then he could tell from the muffled sounds that he passed out or fell asleep in his bedroom.
Two days later Noah peeking out of his window carefully, saw Curt , wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and carrying a full backpack and a bulging athletic bag, head to his car get in and leave. He didn’t storm out of his apartment in anger from what Noah could tell, but he didn’t look happy either.
Noah found out from another neighbor – who didn’t know anything about the incident between Noah and Curt – that Curt had notified the apartment complex manager gave notice that he was moving up north 200 or 300 miles to his uncle’s or some friend’s to take a job that just came open. He had to leave now to take the job, packed the clothes and things he would need immediately for the position – and told the manager he would be back to move the rest of his things out before the end of the month.
Noah breathed a sigh of relief inwardly – no mention at all about his invading Curt’s privacy. He wondered if it was a coincidence that Curt was leaving for a new job – or was it because of what he did.
Noah decided it didn’t have anything to do with him – though his spying probably sealed the deal. He remembered now that Curt talked to one of the girls at the pool about possibly moving to take a job, though that was weeks ago and nothing specific was said as far as Noah could hear. So that was it.
CHAPTER 3 – CURT’S JOURNEY
The rarely used old highway stretched out endlessly, shimmering from the intense heat as Curt pressed the accelerator of his late model Toyota to 95 miles an hour trying to race through the final 200 miles of his journey to a new job and home. He was trying to eat up the miles on this old highway shortcut that was suggested to him by the attendant at an old run down gas station he had to stop at to fill up some 10 miles back.
After driving over 100 miles already on the freeway Curt was bored and tired of the long drive, rapping his fingers impatiently on the arm rest.
For the past 15 minutes his I-Phone stopped working and he remembered the gas station attendant telling him cell phones wouldn’t work for the next 80 miles or so. Wonderful Curt thought sarcastically. So no music for the next hour – he never downloaded any to his phone which he just bought a few days earlier. He didn’t think to bring any CDs to play in the car’s player – and the radio just had static.
The road stretched for miles and miles with virtually no other cars passing by and none behind him. Curt had never driven on this old highway before. Outside the afternoon sun was blistering heating the valley to 104 degrees with high humidity. The handsome 22 year old youth was getting worried about his car’s AC – it seemed to be going on and off for the last 30 minutes – and he started hearing a slight weird noise from the engine. His car had needed some minor repairs before he decided to move from his apartment to take a job almost 200 miles away. But this noise was different. He hadn’t heard it before – and he was really good about noticing things like that about his car.
That noise started happening after he filled up at that old gas station at the junction of the freeway and old highway.
The station at first looked like it was closed and had a run down appearance that clearly was not your modern gas station with a mini-store. No, it was more like those rickety two pump gas stations in the desert that you would see in those horror movies where a car full of teenagers would roll in acting stupid before getting killed, Curt thought.
The attendant looked to be in his late 40′s, overweight and while greasy looking he seemed to Curt harmless enough. The heavy set man lumbered out of the small air conditioned room with a small dirty couch and recliner chair that served as a place for the attendant to rest and wait until the next customer. Seeing Curt out of the car next to the pump, the man quickly walked over to the boy, who was ready to remove the gas pump handle.
He told Curt this wasn’t a “self serve” station and that he would pump the gas for him. He also mentioned that he would also check his oil and water under the hood – services that Curt didn’t expect at a station like this – or actually any station anywhere. At first Curt was going to decline, thinking he might charge him extra, but the older man said there was no charge – it was just part of the job.
“You wanna make sure your fluids are right, especially the coolant in this heat young fella,” the gas attendant said. He pointed to the back of the station when Curt asked where the restroom was “it’s way in the back there…on the other side of the building. There’s a soda machine in the office in front there young fella,” the man said pointing now to the small room he just came from.
Curt cocked his head slightly at the phrase “young fella”, which he hadn’t heard very much before, but murmured “thanks man” and slowly trudged off to the restroom in the back of the station.
For some reason Curt felt the man staring at him as he walked away, but when he turned around to look back, the attendant seemed busy working on Curt’s car. Oh well, must be the heat getting to me Curt thought as he turned to walk to the restroom, scratching his damp armpit.
He walked slowly along the dirt pathway trying not to get his Vans dirty. The pathway went from the front the station to the surprisingly long width of the building, and then on to the side of the back where the restrooms were. He turned the corner and was surprised to see a large forbidding barnlike structure with giant doors that were chained shut. The structure was hidden by a clump of trees that hid it from the front area of the station. It couldn’t be seen directly from the road either. The old building seemed to serve as a garage or something, judging from the packed dirt driveway leading from the barn-like doors to the main road, but it looked abandoned.
Strange, Curt thought, but he felt another wave of heat and humidity and the thought passed quickly. He trudged on the dirt pathway to the back of the station, reaching the metal white door of the men’s restroom.
Curt held his breath expecting a rush of foul smells – the usual condition of restrooms of rundown old gas stations like this. But the restroom, though not air conditioned and like an oven inside, didn’t have a bad odor at all, and to Curt’s surprise was very clean, well lit and modern. It seemed totally out of place for this gas station, but Curt didn’t give two seconds about that, being just surprised and happy that he didn’t have to contend with a stinking filthy bathroom.
Even though he was outside from his air conditioned car just for the past few minutes, the oven like heat and humidity already caused his t-shirt and jeans to become extremely damp with his heavy perspiration, making him feel uncomfortable.
He stood at the urinal, taking out his 7 inch limp uncut tube of meat, pulling his foreskin back a little and pissed while scratching the back of his head, wishing he was in his old apartment pool. His dick felt sweaty and sticky on his fingers from the intense heat and humidity and hated feeling that way. Shaking the last dribbles of piss from his cock as he always did Curt then in an absent minded way, stroked the flaccid dick a few times, the sweat providing some lubrication, liking the feeling, wishing that there was some girl around to fuck.
Curt hadn’t fucked in three days since he had a twosome with two hot girls who lived in the same apartment complex. That was unusual for Curt to go without sex that long. He noticed his dick a little more longer and flaccid and his balls hanging more loose and further down in his scrotum as it always did when it was hot or in a Jacuzzi. He liked that effect, but he hated this heat – especially the humidity. He sighed and stopped stroking, stuffing his slightly engorged penis back into his boxer briefs and jeans. He sniffed his fingers for a second, and was revolted by the intense male genital sweaty odor and reminded himself that he would definitely need to take a long hot shower before he hooked up with any girl tonight.
He walked over to the sink, turning on the cold water, which was warm, and washed his hands thoroughly. He looked at the surprisingly clean mirror and then threw water on his face and ran his wet fingers through his sweaty head of short brown hair and saw how damp his t-shirt now was from the heat and humidity. His jeans and boxer briefs too, but there was nothing he could do about that right now.
Feeling hot and miserable, Curt pulled off the sweat soaked t-shirt, hanging it on the paper towel dispenser next to the sink. He stared in the mirror, critically looking at his chest and abs, and cupped his hands under the luke warm water running from the faucet wishing it would get colder. It stayed warm, and Curt sighed, throwing it on his face, rubbing his face. His face dripping, Curt stared at his reflection in the mirror and then threw water and rubbing it briskly on his muscled chest and flat stomach, and under his hairy brown armpits before wiping dry his body with several paper towels.
He picked up his t-shirt and rinsed it under the running water and then twisted the cloth several times wringing it out. He smelled the shirt noting that at least it didn’t smell as sour with his sweat as before, and then stuck a part of the end so the shirt hung from the back of his jeans.
He looked one more time in the mirror, using his hands and fingers to comb his short hair in place, and thinking that all in all he looked pretty good for a fuckin awful day like this. The reflection in the mirror showed a young handsome man, with sharply defined muscled pecs crowned by quarter-sized salmon colored nipples, with an impressive 8 pack abs and flat stomach centered by a concave belly button. He lazily flexed both arms and torso staring back at the mirror for a second, before slapping his stomach and using another towel to dry off his armpits again.
He remembered that there were plenty of hot girls at his new job – and he couldn’t wait to drop by when he arrived later tonight and pick one up for a long fuck session. Curt felt pretty horny, but knew his looks could get him any girl, and smiled at himself in the mirror, flexing his muscled torso, grabbed his crotch to adjust his junk and then opened the door, somewhat refreshed, walking out with a little bit of his usual frat boy type swagger back to his car. Yeah, he’d get some pussy tonight for sure – that would be his reward for this long fuckin drive, he thought.
The overweight gas attendant, finished with Curt’s car, was standing next to the pump looking at the shirtless boy approach slowly from the restroom, as if he knew when he would come out. He seemed to Curt to have an odd smile, almost a smirk which vanished quickly.
“Pretty hot inside that bathroom. Sorry we don’t have air conditioning,” the gas station attendant mentioned to Curt. For a second Curt thought the attendant seemed to be zeroing in on his bare chest – though it was hard to tell for sure because he was now wearing sun glasses.
He told Curt he added just a half quart of oil and some coolant – on the house. Curt grinned – the first break he’s had in this long trip so far, thanking the man, and paid him in cash for the gas. Curt normally would have used his debit card but the man said his card reader didn’t work. Lucky for Curt he had the $32 in cash to pay for the gas, taking the money out of his wallet from his jeans. He apologized that the bills were slightly damp from his sweat, “sorry…you know the heat….”.
“Don’t bother me a bit as long as its real money,” he said smiling a little, taking the money and putting the wad of bills in his shirt pocket. He seemed to Curt to be staring intently at his shirtless chest and stomach.
“You got a nice build there young fella. You an athlete or something?” the attendant asked, looking at Curt through his sun glasses rather intently.
“Uh…thanks…uh…yeah…college wrestling….” Curt replied, though not sensing anything odd about the attendant’s remark. Curt knew he did look good, like a professional athlete. The gas station attendant – middle aged , overweight and out of shape, was just being nice and maybe even envious, Curt thought. Well, he got a lot of that type of reaction in college from other people.
Still, the attendant did seem to be staring at him a little longer than what would be considered polite, Curt thought. On the other hand, this station probably got only occasional visits from passer-bys off the freeway, being several miles from it. I’m probably the only customer this guy will have all day Curt thought who remembered he would have passed up the place himself if he wasn’t on empty and didn’t see the run-down sign off the freeway.
The attendant asked where Curt was headed – and then mentioned that the old highway – pointing in the opposite direction of the freeway – would cut his travel time by at least 45 minutes “more depending on how fast you drive young fella. I drive that all the time and save at least that time and more. Its fast and safe – no highway patrol and almost no other drivers either,” he said. “There’s a small little town down that highway some. It’s a fast drive young fella.”
Curt, who hated to drive and dreaded how far he still had to go, lit up on hearing about the short-un-cut. He had never driven on the old highway before – but he could see from the gas station it was still a functioning road. It dipped and then rose and went straight down the valley as far as the eye could see. Forty-five minutes was huge. But with still nearly 200 miles still to go, Curt was open to anything that would cut down the travel time and seemed to the old man eager to take the old highway short un-cut.
“Really? Straight down the highway? Forty-five minutes – man, that’s incredible!”Curt remarked, staring at the long straight road – and then turned around and looked at the freeway and then back again at the old highway. Like most younger people who depended on Google maps for directions to get anywhere, Curt’s own sense of direction on the road was almost non-existent unless he was extremely vigilant about following the road signs. He thought for a second, scratching his head, turning again to look at the freeway in the distance and then again at the old highway stretching out.
The overweight attendant just stared at the shirtless boy as Curt shifted his weight from one hip to the other, showing more of his underwear waistband, trying to decide. Curt thought he heard the man sigh as he turned to look at him.
The thought vanished as Curt looked back at the man, coming to a decision.
“Never took that highway before. But I’ll take your word for it…I mean you’re from here and you know. Yeah, I’ll definitely take it. I’ll bet I’ll get there in an hour if I go 90. Thanks man!” Curt said, turning and then bending to pick up his keys that he dropped on the floor of his car. As he did, the dark blue waist band of his boxer briefs were exposed riding high over his tight skinny jeans damp from his sweat clinging to his skin. Curt noticed the old man seemed to be staring even more intently at him.
The gas station attendant smiled slightly, nodded, and just nodded, saying “that short cut will save you lots of time. Drive carefully now young fella” and just continued to look in Curt’s direction. There was something about his look. It wasn’t threatening or creepy. Curt searched his mind and realized the look was similar to the look his dad got. Was it the look he gave when he fished? No. Then he remembered – it was the look he got when he hunted. When he spotted a deer. Well his dad was also an alcoholic drug addict, so what does that mean? The gas attendant dude doesn’t see people much here and that makes him stare at people. Well, maybe he’s a hunter too Curt wondered, but then quickly dismissed any further thought as the heat and humidity seemed to rise.
He jumped into his car, carefully laying out his damp t-shirt that he rinsed in the restroom on the seat to dry out and then turned to politely half wave at the attendant, as he drove a little away from the station lot gas pumps.
The attendant watched the car reach the road, as it paused, idling. The boy inside seemed to vacillate for second or two about which direction to go, even though he said he would take the old highway shortcut. Another few seconds and Curt’s car still paused, the boy looking back at the freeway and then again at the old highway. Suddenly the Toyota quickly turned left, speeding onto the old highway instead of the freeway.
The old man still stood outside, staring at the car and the young handsome man in it, breathing now a sigh of relief. The old man wasn’t 100% sure the boy would take his unsolicited advice about the old highway short un-cut. Seemed like a skittish colt the gas attendant thought. Could have gone either way. But he didn’t. They almost never do. He stared at the car speeding down the old highway, now just a speck miles away. He smirked, looking at his watch, and then grinned.
He turned to head back to the small office room to make a phone call.
As Curt sped down the straight highway, he wondered briefly if that old gas station attendant was a faggot. He stared at Curt’s body like the way a dude would look at a hot chick. Well, Curt couldn’t be totally sure because the attendant was wearing dark glasses. Maybe, Curt thought, he was just being paranoid after what happened at his apartment complex two days before.
His quick decision to move was in large part because of the discovery two days earlier that his neighbor in the upstairs apartment had been stalking him, taking pictures and videos of him and God knows what else.
That guy two days earlier peeked over his second floor apartment balcony looking down on him, Curt remembered, as he lay passed out on his patio recliner naked – the only time he ever did that – after drinking too much. The freak was taking video and pictures of his nude body until one of his digital cameras fell below on Curt’s chest, suddenly waking him. Curt cursed the guy out who backed away from his balcony.
Curt kept his camera and then discovered to his disgust over 1,000 pictures and short videos of just him that dated from the past 6 months. Shirtless. Laying out near the apartment pool or working out in the rec room or walking around the complex. Or lying in his patio catching some rays. Some photos focused close-ups of his butt or crotch. Short videos of his scratching his junk or butt. Pictures and short video of Curt getting out of the Jacuzzi showing his swim trunks clinging to his body showing the outline of his ass and genitals. It was frightening to think that someone had followed him around for so long. Curt couldn’t believe it.
True, he had been thinking of moving to take the job for a couple of weeks now but discovery of that freak upstairs stalking him – in Curt’s view – forced a quick decision to relocate. His decision came so fast that he left packing only the clothes he would definitely need, including a week’s change of underwear and socks, shoes – leaving the rest of his things to be moved at the end of the month. He didn’t have many things to begin with, living rather sparingly as a college student. He didn’t want to spend one more day than necessary in that apartment or the apartment complex knowing that guy was there and could be taking pictures of him or snooping on him.
Still, after being outraged at the invasion of his privacy and creepiness of being stalked and having photos and videos taken of him without his knowledge, a tiny part of Curt was sort of flattered – though he didn’t admit that to himself. It was a guy after all who was stalking him – a faggot – and Curt certainly was not. What was his name? Neil? Norbert?
Sounded like that. Noah? Yeah…it was Noah. Dude always creeped me out for some reason even before that camera fell on him, Curt remembered. Always seemed to be around the pool or sauna or rec room when he was there. Well, now he knew why. Fuckin stalking me Curt thought angrily.
Now speeding down the old highway, already ten miles away from the gas station, Curt thought about that gas station attendant staring at his chest – and then remembered all those pictures on the camera taken by Noah. He was amazed how much that guy was infatuated with his body. Some of the pictures Curt thought he actually might keep – they were pretty good shots of him shirtless showing his muscles and didn’t look posed – which of course none of them were.
He wondered for a second what that guy would have wanted to do to him. That freak probably wanted to suck him off. Or maybe wanted Curt to punk his faggot ass – or worse maybe he wanted to fuck Curt’s butt. Fuck NO! Not a chance that Curt would have ever let that happen. Not for money. Not for anything. Never. The very thought of another guy touching him or sucking his dick – or Curt doing any of those things to another guy was totally incomprehensible and repulsed him.
Besides, he got enough action to take care of his needs from chicks. Even the ugliest girl would be better. He would never seek or want another dude to touch him. Ever. No way another guy could get him off or get him hard. Fuck that.
Still, as he sped down the old highway – not another car in sight in either direction, Curt frowned to himself looking at himself in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t believe how much that guy in the upstairs apartment was so infatuated with his body. All those pictures of him shirtless, focusing on his junk. His junk. His ass. Fuck. The dude fuckin worshiped my body and probably wanted to suck me off. Sick. Sick. Fuckin obsessed. More than any of the girls he fucked. Well, glad to be away from him Curt thought. What a freak. And then Curt looked down for a second at and realized his bulge in his jeans seemed to become more engorged and larger. Shit, he thought. I fuckin boned thinking about this sick shit. He rubbed it as if to reassure his straight dick that he understood. I fuckin need some pussy bad he moaned to himself.
His thoughts were suddenly jarred by a sudden noise from the engine, wisps of smoke from the hood and the red engine light flashing on his dashboard.
“Fuck!!!!” he yelled to himself in the car, as he drove the sputtering vehicle over to the side of the highway.
CHAPTER 4 – CURT FINDS A RIDE
They roamed aimlessly around the countryside on a hot humid day, half heartedly looking for their next victim.
They had a short list -as they always did – of prospective candidates that they had been stalking over the past several weeks (including video surveillance) but sometimes they would roam the streets and country roads for someone entirely new. None of them really expected to see anyone interesting – but in the past ever so often they got lucky. Their dicks got hard just thinking about the three different young straight guys they picked up and abducted this way. They had several scouts in different areas that helped spot potential prey.
For the past hour and half they didn’t see anyone – and were almost ready to give up and try looking for prey around the bars and clubs in the city later that night. And then they got a call. Ahead a few miles away would be the perfect Adonis either walking along the road or waiting inside his car.
Within minutes they past a car that broke down. Further ahead they saw a tiny figure on the right hand side trudging along. They sped up fast in the van quickly gobbling up the miles and catching up to the walking figure. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Even from only seeing his shirtless back covered partially by a backpack, and bubble butt covered by tight jeans, he clearly was to them the perfect Adonis that their scout said he was. He would be paid handsomely for his work.
Now gliding the van just a few yards away, they honked, seeing the young tanned shirtless man, with a backpack strapped to his back, holding an athletic bag, wearing just low slung jeans with a black wide belt, and Nikes and a baseball cap backwards like a frat boy and sunglasses. A white t shirt hung from the back of his jeans.
Even from a distance they could tell he was hot – the classic good-looking, lean and muscled boy – and their perfect next victim to be abducted and raped.
To them he looked built not like a bull – but like some sleek muscled predator who went after females – a cheetah perhaps. Now this walking stud – this predator of pussy – was in their trap – or soon would be.
Most of all, they could see a promising large bulge that clearly advertised that he was packing an enormous mouth-watering tube of pure straight boy cock. They could see the enormous bulge shift left and right as he walked, noting that it looked like he possessed a large and thick piece of meat that was pointed downwards towards his left thigh. They noticed his jeans were visibly damp with heavy sweat clinging to his skin, clearly showing his muscled bubble butt and ass crack – as if it was a second skin. It looked almost lewd and done on purpose to attract attention. But of course it wasn’t. His shuffling slow walk to the passenger window side of the van clearly looked desperate from the heat and bad luck of what had to be a car that broke down they surmised.
Close-up he was even more good-looking, with a look and manner to the guys in the van that was at once charmingly boyish, yet so stunningly handsome that it intimidated guys and girls not blessed with such attributes. They knew this straight boy wouldn’t normally give them the time of day if it wasn’t for the fact he needed them.
The guys in the van couldn’t believe their good luck. It was like hunting for the perfect prey – and discovering it was looking for them.
A Christian religious logo and Bible text was displayed prominently on the side this particular “abduction” van, designed to disarm most of their hapless straight boy prey who figured the guys inside were no threat to them. It almost – with 1 exception in the past – always worked. The van was one of a fleet of such “abduction” vehicles with different logos, designs and coloring. The fleet included two large u-haul type small trucks.
They slowed and stopped just behind of the walking shirtless muscled boy. The boy stopped walking, and slowly turned around, staring at the front of the van that also had the Christian logo on it. Standing still now, shifting his weight to one hip, he took off his dirty baseball cap, exposing his very damp armpit hair and scratched his head, running his fingers through his brownish blonde hair matted down with sweat as if to comb it before making an appearance. He stuck the baseball cap in the back of his pants pocket and slowly walked over to the passenger side of the van, his tanned pecs and 8 pack abs looking like it was flexing on his torso as he did.
Beads of heavy sweat on his forehead and face, the young man looked at the van, stared back the guy in the passenger seat with the van window rolled down. Jesse was in the passenger side and said hi to the boy and then offered a ride. It was miles away before the next town or even to a gas station and hardly any traffic on the road Jesse told the boy. They were headed for a prayer meeting in the next town, some 15 miles down the road and could drop him off there – it was no trouble, and in fact, part of their ministry to help stranded boys. If the shirtless muscled youth was thinking clearly and not so desperate for help, he would have wondered about Jesse’s line about helping “stranded boys”. Stranded people. Folks. But just boys? But he didn’t wonder a second about that odd line – he was too grateful about being offered a ride.
It was hard for the guys in the van not to stare at the boy’s sculpted chest and muscled ribbed abs and his quarter sized dark nipples as he stood in front of their vehicle and then walked slowly to the open passenger window. He clearly worked out – but his body and face still retained a youth, lean, natural appearance – as if his muscles came from work on the proverbial farm.
They loved his sexy belly button that curled inwards and the light dusting of dark hairs – his treasure trail. He had a heavy patch of hair under both arm pits and to the guys in the van, the boy’s tight jeans seemed to grip the his muscled bubble butt, thighs and calves as he stood there and then turned to wait for the van side door to open.
The van door slid open and he was greeted with a full rush of cold air from the vehicle’s air conditioning. It felt good on his sweaty body that was just minutes away from being sun burned.
It was all they could do to restrain themselves from attacking the shirtless muscled boy and raping him right then and there. He seemed to them hesitating for a second. He was like a prized young stag sniffing around, slightly wary before entering the kill-zone.
He realized he had no other choice and jumped in. The shirtless hitchhiking boy though felt no fear or apprehension about the guys in the van. To him, sweaty and tired from the walking, the guys in the van all were a bit on the nerdy geeky side, and none appeared to have anywhere near the muscles or athletic build that he possessed. They seemed harmless enough.
He had made that calculation even before jumping inside the van in his mind – sizing them up as he always did when meeting other guys. He felt, letting natural frat boy athlete bravado get the best of him, that he could easily take them.
Not realizing how much the heat and desperation of walking for miles without a ride was clouding his judgment, the shirtless muscled boy figured that, though outnumbered, he could if necessary – intimidate his new benefactors from doing anything stupid. To his mind and everything in his past experience, he was always in control, always could get or make others do what he wanted. Though at a disadvantage due to the breakdown of his car, this was really no different.
The tired youth didn’t notice the lustful stares – he simply thought they admired his muscled build like others often did – especially those far, far lower on Curt’s food chain. They were careful not to stare too overtly and did most of their staring when the handsome shirtless youth wasn’t looking. That was easy because one of the guys could always distract his attention by talking to him – which they did to allow the others to stare and examine their shirtless muscled prey.
He loved the cold air on his hot sweating tanned skin after he got in the van and sat down – knees up – leaning against the side. Looking around and seeing further religious type sayings and illustrations on the van wall inside he further surmised to himself that the guys in the van presented absolutely no threat to him and let his guard down almost completely.
He was clearly tired and exhausted – but the cold air was starting to freshen and reinvigorate him, hardening, to his chagrin, his nipples. He just wished now for a nice long hot shower to wash off all his sweat and grime from the long drive – and from the couple of miles he walked after his car broke down. Even the few miles he walked drenched him with sweat because of the intense heat and humidity. He hated being sweaty and dirty. Well, he could deal with that when they hit the next town. He breathed a sigh of relief, closed his long lashed eyes for a second and leaned his head back against the van wall. The gesture was both endearing and extremely sexy to the guys in the van.
“Thanks man…my cell isn’t working out here… been walking for a while…thanks…” the handsome young man said gratefully opening his eyes now, looking at his new found “friends”.
He was still shirtless, and the guys stared at the brownish hairs peeking out from his armpits, his biceps flexed with his arms folded across his defined mounds of muscled pecs. That chest, the guys in the van observed, was centered by two salmon colored quarter sized nipples, just begging to them to be pinched and sucked. And they stared longingly at his pancake flat belly with a sexy belly button hole, with a wispy treasure trail of brownish hairs down to the top of the waist band of his boxer briefs and jeans. He had only the slightest body fat folds of skin drawn tightly over his impressive 8 pack abs and stomach.
They were fixated on the boy’s naked chest and stomach and the large mound between his legs, now scrunched up with his knees up sitting on the van’s thick rug cushioned floor. One of the guys – Aaron – moved over from the other side of the van and sat himself right next to their new young passenger their legs touching either other briefly – until the young man almost as a reflex quickly moved his leg away. A little jumpy having another guy touch him, Aaron thought. Oh yeah, they would have a lot of fun with this straight boy.
“No cell phone coverage out here bro,” said one of the guys whose name was Aaron. There wasn’t – but the guys in the van had cell phones connected by satellite, though none of them mentioned that to the shirtless boy.
Everything about his manner indicated to the guys in the van that this boy was straight as an arrow and they instantly fell in love with his masculine yet boyish voice. He again thanked his new found friends (or so he thought) explaining how fucked up things was for him for the past day.
He was moving to take a new job he said and had already driven 100 miles when his car broke down – and he more or less abandoned it, leaving it on the side of the road a couple of miles back. He’d have to arrange to have it towed once he got to the next town. He was bummed he said because the whole thing was going to delay his starting his new job. What he didn’t say was it would also mean he wasn’t going to have time at least this evening to hook up with some girl to fuck her brains out. He was horny as hell after not having sex for the past three days – though he wasn’t going to tell these religious geeks that. But he was more disappointed about that. He really was horny.
Though normally not talkative, especially with strangers, and especially with THIS type of geeky type strangers, the handsome youth felt obliged to explain his situation and said he was going to work at a restaurant some 200 miles away that a friend owned. He had been walking carrying his stuff in a heavy backpack and an athletic bag for the past 30 minutes and was getting worried that he would be stranded until they came by in the van.
He still felt grungy and hot, though he was now starting to feel the cold air on his body, so that the sweat on his chest and back was drying up. The insides of his pants – especially his crotch – was still damp from sweating in the heat – and the boy hated that feeling. But he didn’t mention that.
But with his chest and back almost dry he looked around the van and noticed he was the only one shirtless. Though proud of his body, he felt suddenly felt a little self conscious because the other guys – who were staring at him – were religious and maybe it wasn’t cool that he was half naked. He decided quickly to put his shirt back on and reached for his white t-shirt, raising one arm exposing his still sweaty hairy armpit and slipped it back on.
“Oh, you can keep it off if you want,” said one of the guys. “Doesn’t bother us either way.”
“No..I mean…thanks, but it’s getting cold anyway, just the way I like it,” the handsome young man said, pulling the t-shirt down his front, now covering his torso and stomach.
In fact the guys in the van liked staring at the boy’s shirtless torso – though they didn’t say that and stared only when the boy wasn’t looking. There would be time enough for the boy to realize how much they liked looking at him shirtless – and naked – after he was subdued. That would be soon.
He leaned back against the van wall on the floor and for a moment closed his long lashed eyes from exhaustion and heat. He could feel the cold air now. The guys in the van stared at their prey – loving and resenting everything about him.
“So, we forgot to introduce ourselves. I’m Aaron. That’s Jesse. Over there is Daniel and Eric and Bobby. Oh and Joseph there is driving.”
“So what’s your name bro?” Aaron asked – putting out his hand, still amazed how lucky they were to catch such a handsome beautiful sexy guy on the road. He was movie star Abercrombie/Fitch gorgeous. An incredibly hot straight youth – who was (until a few moments before) shirtless, his flat stomach with his 8 pack abs and a sexy brown treasure trail of hair from his deep belly button hole and muscled pecs that looked curved from marble centered by two scallop colored quarter sized nipples. Fuckin hottest thing they have seen in a long time they all thought.
“Oh…yeah. I forgot to introduce myself too. Sorry about that,” he said.
He said his name was Curt.
Curt.
To the guys in the van the name was perfect -a strong masculine name sounded like the way he looked.
Sharp sounding, defined and strong. Perfect boy. Perfect name.
Soon to be theirs.
CHAPTER 5 – CURT FALLS INTO THE TRAP
As Curt sat back, relieved not to be walking in the hot humid sun anymore, they stared at him -drinking in is physical beauty without seeming to do so – and each inhaled his strong boyish sweat. They could barely wait until that nano second after they restrained him, to fully inspect every part of his sweaty body and to sniff out his sweaty musky scents that seemed to cover each part of it. To them it was like an abduction perfume that pushed their lust for the boy past the point of no return. Not that they needed that. He was a marked man as soon as they saw him.
And little did he know that from the point they were driving up to him, to first talking to him outside the passenger window – and all the time he was in the van, he was being secretly videotaped. Crystal HD clear video fully miked to capture every sound for later use.
He also had no way of knowing that he had fallen into a trap, though not fully closed, with the odds increasingly stacked against him as every second went by. He did not know that that gas station attendant had sabotaged his car when he added special supplements to his radiator coolant, oil and gas that would guarantee the vehicle breaking down within 10 miles of the station down the highway.
Curt didn’t know his every move – both outside the station – and inside the restroom was fully video taped and streamed to the guys in the van – and the others at the ranch facility. They saw everything – including his flaccid dick pissing – and the brief moment of Curt stroking it and then sniffing his fingers. They thought it was so incredibly sexy and erotic. The suggested shortcut route was also part of the plan – and as soon as Curt took it – as they knew he most likely would – the gas station attendant, as part of his real job, quickly called the guys in the van to look and pick up their new prey.
Meanwhile, once Curt jumped into the van and they took off, the gas station attendant, with a helper, located his broken down Toyota and towed it quickly back to the old gas station. The car was pushed into the large barnlike structure behind the gas station that served as a garage that they used to completely tear down and disassemble the vehicles of the boys they abducted. The disassembled pieces of the car was crushed together inside the giant garage into a cube and then later hauled away to the ranch, to be buried deep in a large pit. Not a trace would remain – or any trace that it broke down at the spot it was taken. For his reward the attendant -as he always did would receive $5,000 and later, have the opportunity to have two hours to do anything he wanted with Curt. But that was later.
Curt of course knew none of that – and would have been truly horrified if he did.
The guys in the van continued to act in a way to totally disarm Curt – though some of their actions aroused some unspoken curious thoughts in the boy.
After seeing Curt shirtless and sweating from the intense humid heat outside, they offered him an unopened can of beer. Curt saw that they were all drinking beer from cans and briefly thought it was weird that religious guys like these were drinking like this – they definitely weren’t Mormons he thought.
But that thought vanished quickly as he got comfortable seating in the air conditioned van, his aching muscles relaxing finally after walking so long. He was thirsty and reached for the can of beer, discreetly noting that the ice cold container was new and unopened. He eagerly opened the can, without further hesitation, and gulped it down in two swallows and forgetting for a second where he was he gave a loud frat boy burp. He suddenly remembered who he was with. His handsome face growing red with embarrassment, Curt apologized for the gulping of his beer and the loud burp to his new found friends explaining he was so thirsty after walking in the heat. They all laughed and told him not to worry – they understood, one or two of them briefly touching him on his bare sweaty shoulder and knee in a friendly way. They offered him another beer, which he eagerly accepted, again discreetly checking to see it was unopened and drank it – though a little slower than the first.
What Curt didn’t know was that each can in the special cooler (for their prey only – they drank from cans coming already out), had a pinhole where a liquid form of roofies was put into the drink via a syringe. Not enough to totally knock him out – but to immobilize him completely. When he finished the beer, the boy clearly was buzzed – more so than he would be from just drinking one beer.
Curt drank up the second and put the empty can down. He burped quietly covering his mouth this time, smiling lazily, wanting to actually nap. He didn’t realize how tired he was from the walking and the heat and the previous 1-1/2 hour of driving he did before his car broke down.
The guys in the van started asking Curt several standard questions of who he was and what he did and where he was going. Nothing at this point that would arouse any concern or suspicion on the part of Curt.
Though getting tired and feeling more and more buzzed from the beers, Curt talked a bit about his background, saying he played baseball and wrestled and modestly said he was pretty good at both. He closed his eyes for a second, rubbing them wit his hands and then running his right hand through his hair as if to help him feel more alert. He opened his eyes and smiled back at the guys sitting next to him and across from him.
“Yeah, well, you got the build still for it.” Daniel said to him as nonchalant and casual as possible to make it sound that he – and the others – were not sexually attracted to his body.
But he said it – and Curt took it – as a form of obvious admiration. He was after all wearing only a t-shirt that was damp with his body sweat so that anyone could see almost through the tight fabric that clung to his torso and arms. He clearly had a nice muscled athletic body. He was proud of his body – and looks – and part of his arrogance was that he expected those compliments.
“Hey man, thanks. Yeah…well…I try to keep in shape still,” Curt said blushing a little, smiling with a hint of conceit and pride.
They knew from previous experience in abducting their many victims that they had to be careful about talking about a guy’s build or looks that could arouse suspicion or put their guard up. The drug still had a few minutes more to take effect – and until then, he could still fight back and maybe get lucky and somehow successfully resist them.
Curt didn’t realize that he had just minutes before his freedom would be gone.
The guys in the van all liked toying with their prey – saying things that would hint on their true intent – and seeing how slow it would take for their prey to catch on. They never did – until it was too late. But it was still – for the guys – part of the thrill of stalking and final abduction.
They were close to that point – very close.
Bobby, suddenly moved from one side of the van to sit to the right side of Curt . At 6 feet 5 inches he was taller than Curt but a much smaller build that, with the baggy hoodie and jeans looked more bones than any muscle. The baggy clothes actually hid a muscular frame that could – strength-wise be a match to Curt’s.
Curt only saw a very tall skinny guy who had the personality that seemed like the obnoxious nerdy types from high school and college that he had no desire or reason to have any contact with. Now he was forced to. And now Bobby’s thigh and legs touched Curt, in what looked like an innocent move – though Curt immediately shifted his butt and body over to immediately break the contact as if his body was touched by an exposed live electric wire.
Curt wasn’t sure – and his mind was getting foggy from being tired and the heat he assumed – but he thought he caught Bobby staring at his crotch very intently with that sort of glint in a person’s eyes that usually meant intense interest.
Though the alcohol was creating a growing warm buzz that started to make him a little dizzy and tired, Curt quickly moved his own hands so it rested covering his crotch. though he tried to act as if it was just a natural shifting of his body.
Curt, even with his mind in a haze he didn’t like other guys – especially nerdy ones – sitting so close and staring at his junk, even if he was wearing underwear and jeans. He remembered for a brief second that guy upstairs where he lived for the past year, who took all those nasty pictures and videos of him and stared at him just like how Bobby was doing now.
“Girls must be at your fuckin door all the time” Bobby said in a worshipful manner, leaning toward Curt and putting his hand on his right bicep, squeezing it lightly a couple of times, marveling at its size and feel.
The touching – though done at first in a seemingly “guy type” locker-room way of comparing muscles – made Curt feel instantly uncomfortable. Bobby’s fingers seemed to stay on his muscle and arm several seconds longer than what Curt thought would be normal for another male to just to compare, feeling invasive and it made him feel creepy. The other guys in the van didn’t try to touch him or stare at him like Bobby as far as he could tell (though they did when he wasn’t looking). Curt, in a quick reflex move, pulled his arm away to abruptly break off the touching. He hoped Bobby or the others wouldn’t notice how fast he pulled his arm away.
“Uh…thanks. Yeah, well…what can I say?” Curt said in a forced joking way, feeling more buzzed and tired and feeling slightly uncomfortable with Bobby sitting just inches away. He closed his eyes for a second, another strong warm buzz feeling overtaking him, and then, eyes still closed, smiled knowingly putting out his hand with a thumbs up chuckling.
To his relief, Bobby didn’t try to touch him again and Curt wrote the whole thing off to just envy, given how slight Bobby’s build – though he had to be several inches taller than me Curt thought.
Curt shut out for a second Bobby’s creepy like stares and more invasive type personal questions (like how many girls did he sleep with, how many at one time) trying to cut off further questions with a reply “oh man…many….if the price was right,” with his bottom lip curled Clinton-like trying to act like he was joking. He closed his eyes again, turning his head from Bobby trying to signal an end to the conversation. He was getting more annoyed with Bobby invading his personal space physically and with his non-stop intimate questions.
He had no choice, he thought, but to humor this guy and his “new friends” until they got to the next town. He decided definitely that he would find other means of help when they got there and would get away fast from these guys, especially Bobby. Still, Curt didn’t fear any of the guys in the van – he was just annoyed and creeped out by Bobby and to a lesser extent by the others
Curt closed his long lashed eyes again briefly to block out the fawning looks of Bobby. Bobby, inhaled the heavy pungent scent of Curt’s body – his manly sweat and other odors that intoxicated him – and the others – with growing lust. This boy was too fuckin beautiful, sexy, and – arrogant they all thought. Yeah, they would soon correct that attitude.
But for now Bobby, who was really infatuated with Curt’s body and personality beyond his job to abduct good-looking straight boys, was also playing the role that he always was designated to do: provoke and tease their prey just a little bit to make him feel slightly creeped out and uncomfortable while the others acted “normal”.
“You know, after being out there so long in the heat, do you want to change into some other pants you have? You can change in the back there (pointing to the back of the van, where the doors were locked and had no windows). You’d feel better,” Bobby said to Curt that sounded borderline creepy but didn’t quite cross that line. His jeans were damp with his sweat and he did feel uncomfortable.
But to Curt it was just a little weird for another guy to be worried about that. He had to be a faggot Curt thought or maybe he and the others just talked creepy like that because of their religious shit or something. But no way he was going to change in front of these guys. He could only imagine how Bobby would just stare at that happening – and then for a second, the memory of that neighbor below him stalking him and taking pictures and videos of him shirtless and naked flashed in Curt’s mind. No way he was taking his jeans off in front of these weird guys, even if he left his underwear on, which he was sure Bobby would suggest he also change. Fuck that, I need to get away from these losers as soon as we hit town Curt thought.
“Uh…thanks. Naw…I’m okay. Really. I’ll change when I get to town..” Curt said, wishing Bobby would get away from him.
Bobby stopped talking for a second, asking Daniel a question about some religious outing (which Curt didn’t know was a charade for his benefit). Curt, his mind getting more fogged by the alcohol, eyes again closed, was just thankful for the brief respite in Bobby’s questions.
Bobby’s intimate questions though did trigger in Curt thought s about all those hot girls flocking to him all the time, especially when he lived in that apartment complex for the past year. Even several older women, several of whom were married. Hey, he fucked a few of them too when the mood struck. There were an endless number of sex texts, voice mails, emails, cell phone pics and videos from girls who wanted to be with him or service him in some way.
He remembered how he often took them up on it – a quick blow job or fuck, though the blow jobs were never totally satisfactory and would never get him off. It was always something to have done to him before fucking a girl. But he was always in control – determining like the Stud God he felt he was – what they would do to him sexually and how long the sex would last.
Curt always felt so horny and thought he was so desirable to so many available good looking chicks that he knew he could set and enforce those rules. If he wanted to get to the fucking, then that was what happened. If he got off first, then it ended. His dick was always too sensitive to continue being touched, so he always stopped, hugged the girl or woman and then got up to put his underwear back on to signal they were done. And that was it – except one time when he had sex with two girls at once – and they held him down for just a few seconds to stroke his cock after he came. That drove him crazy and he pushed them off quickly getting mad at both of them.
He mentioned , of course, none of that to the guys in the van.
The guys all now just stared at this Adonis sitting right before them leaning against the side of the rocking van as it raced down the road, falling under his masculine spell and at the same time also resenting his arrogance and cockiness and looks. Qualities they felt they didn’t have. They knew they would, as they had done before with their other victims , soon correct that imbalance with this boy. They figured this was a cocky straight boy who never was in a position where he had no control of his body. That would change. Forever. And very soon.
CHAPTER 6 – CURT ABDUCTED
Getting more blurry in his mind from the drugged beers, Curt closed his eyes again, each time for a few seconds longer. His eyelids felt heavy and when he closed them he thought none of the other guys in the van would notice. But like nodding off in a class room that catches the stern attention of the teacher, Curt’s losing efforts to keep his eyes open and the slight bowing of his head did catch the attention of his new found “friends”. They after all knew what was happening – and loved seeing Curt fight off the drug, his head bowing and then bopping back up in a jerk, eyes widened to keep them open, and then fighting off the intense urge to close them and sleep.
He totally ignored Bobby now, not even bothering to answer his questions anymore. His words were just a buzz now – an irritating buzz like a fly circling and touching parts of his face, to be swatted away. He wished he could swat Bobby away.
The others weren’t talking at all – at least as far as Curt could tell. While the drug still hadn’t taken total effect yet – that would happen in less than a minute – it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He yawned, stretching his muscled arms and then put his arms up behind his head, trying to stifle yet another yawn. Some of his brownish wiry hairs peeked out from both sides of Curt’s t-shirt arm openings that was still very damp from his sweat. The guys stared at Curt’s t-shirt covered torso – the muscled pecs bulging out they could see his quarter sized dark nipples through the damp fabric that stretched over his body. With Curt’s eyes closed still, their eyes now all focused intently at his crotch covered jeans, noting the substantial rounded bulge and what looked like the outline of a mouth-watering huge tube shape that curled toward his thigh that they knew had to be his cock. They remembered the video feed of his using the urinal in that old gas station restroom. They got glimpse of his 7 inch flaccid dick – and his brief stroking of it. Oh how they lusted for him now.
Every time Curt shifted while sitting they stared at the large bulge between his muscled thighs – something they could easily do as Curt’s eyes closed more and more. They could almost inhale the musky heavy scent that they knew had to be trapped in the tight crotch of his jeans and underwear.
Bobby was still sitting on the van floor next to Curt, while Daniel casually moved over and sat on his other side. Facing him were the two others. Daniel and Eric were both the same height or so as Curt – and Daniel outweighed him easily. The other two guys facing him were just a few inches shorter – but had enough muscle so that all five could easily overpower a drugged Curt.
The guys now were all talking to him, especially Bobby – and all sounded like a continuous annoying buzz to Curt, though he was too polite, given that they were giving him a ride, to tell them to shut the hell up. He wanted to, but he reminded himself that they were just being friendly – or so he thought.
He would smile and nod, though not sure what the conversation or question was. He closed his eyes again and then again – his long lashes making him look even more sexy for a brief moment. After a few moments – the intervals getting longer and longer, he would open them and look at his “friends”, smiling. He tried to widen his eyes, as if that would shake off the desire to sleep – and then closed his eyes again.
They all stared at the boy when he eyes were closed, hungrily drinking in his muscled body and beautiful face. They still couldn’t believe their luck in finding him on the road.
The van wall Curt was leaning against had two chains, with leather wrist cuffs on both, covered by a curtain like cloth so it couldn’t be seen. On the other side, also unknown to Curt, – on the floor of the van were two other chains with ankle cuffs, also hidden by blankets and a rug. Each of the boys would take one of the chains and cuffs – and knew it was their job to attach and restrain a leg or arm of this handsome boy.
After they chained and gagged him, they would leave his clothes on until they got to the ranch – even though their own lust was so overwhelming that it took enormous self control to not strip him naked and rape his body right then and there.
More important, many potential buyers demanded seeing the merchandise still in its original wrapping. This they did, after abducting their straight boy prey and hauling them to their huge ranch holding facility and displaying their struggling still clothed tied up bodies on live video stream to those potential buyers.
But for them now, it was first completing the task of overpowering Curt – as they did to so many other boys before him – and then restrain him and get him delivered to the ranch holding facility.
Though the drug was making Curt drowsy and dizzy, he was now totally creeped out by Bobby and some of the others who reminded him of characters on the “Big Bang Theory”. Even then though, he still didn’t suspect any threats he had to worry about. He opened his eyes and stared back at Bobby and the others who now stopped talking and simply stared back at him.
Though his mind now was nearly totally blanked out by the drug, Curt wondered about that – the staring. Why were they grinning and just staring at him. But he was getting too tired now to think about it. His arms and legs and body now felt numb. He never felt so exhausted. He leaned further back against the van wall, feeling very sleepy and closed his eyes and muttered “man, I am fuckin tired…”
Watching Curt’s long lashed eyes close, this time as if he was now fully passed out or sleeping, his body clearly taken over by the drug in the beer, the guys in the van, like a pack of hungry hyenas ready to take down a wounded lion. Though their prey was clearly drugged and now unable to fully resist anything they did, the guys in the van with years of experience abducting so many boys before, moved with startling precision and speed.
In a split quick second Daniel grabbed Curt’s left wrist and quickly attached the cuff, tightened the straps. Bobby, his eyes glazed with pure lust did the same on Curt’s right arm, and both yanked on the chained raising the boy’s arms up tight before his eyes flew open in shock and bewilderment.
“Hey..Hey!!!! What the fuck????? What….what are you doing man???…What???” Curt, said loudly, suddenly waking, his eyes trying to focus, but clearly confused, and in a seriously weakened state by the drug.
Curt in his drug weakened and confused state still tried to resist and escape though his attempts were feeble and he never had a chance against the five guys gleefully attacking him now.
As a natural defensive reflex he tried pulling his arms away and tried to stand, but both Daniel and Bobby pushed him back, placing their hands hard against his abs, touching his body for there for the first time (other than Bobby feeling up Curt’s bicep earlier).
But Curt’s reflexes were slow and off the mark, with his strength gone, like a man half asleep, thanks to the drug. He never had a chance, though Curt’s mind was now fully conscious and realizing he was being assaulted. He didn’t know why they were doing this but his mind was trying to react and fight back. Only his athletic muscled body was not responding like the fighter he was – but like a giant swordfish hooked and reeled on board thrashing and flopping helplessly. Caught and doomed.
Touching and pressing down on his sweaty muscled stomach they both realized what a prize piece of beef they had now. Their hands held him down and pressed his abs that felt like firm slabs of marbled rock. It was one thing seeing it – another for them to now be touching it. Pressing down hard on it – feeling the muscles grow taut and hard struggling against them.
In an almost frenzied action, before he could utter another protest, Jesse took Curt’s left foot and attached the leather ankle cuff, while Aaron did the same to his right, and then both yanked the chain so it spread the boy’s muscled legs apart as far as it would go.
“HEY!!!! FUCK!!!!!! STOP!!! NOWW! WHAT THWE FUCK????” Curt was yelling now, struggling hard, and trying to break from his restraints. He was struggling like a wild animal – but his body was spread eagle in a sitting position – arms and legs spread out and a chain that held his waist tightly against the van wall.
He continued to struggle, though with his adrenaline spiking he was confused why his body didn’t respond in fighting back the way it should have. What happened to him?
“Fuckin drugged me man…fuck…let me go…what kind of religious group does this shit??? This is so fuckin wrong man! Let me go. Let me go!!!! NOW!!!” he yelled at them, pulling hard as ever at the chains holding him and trying to buckle this way and that to force the arms and hands off of him.
They put a blindfold on him, and after a minute – loving his protests, shoved one of their previous victim’s old used dirty underwear into his mouth that they brought with them just for the occasion, taping it tightly with duct tape, while he tried to spit it out, enraged. They often brought the dirty socks or underwear of their previous victim to gag their new prey with it, as if it continued the link of boy at their mercy.
“It’s the dirty underwear of a real handsome dude we picked up last week. Almost as good-looking as you. How’s he taste Curt?” Daniel whispered, as he had bunched the underwear’s dirty pouch – the part that cradled one’s dick and balls, taping it up just under his nose.
There was no way Curt could avoid smelling or tasting the strong pungent odors and stains of that guy who wore it. It really didn’t gag him – he could still yell out though not as easily or clearly. The taste of the gag was repulsive to Curt, with his salvia reawakening the pungent smells and taste of those underwear stains.
The white Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs had a strong yellowish tint in some areas of the pouch and a slight skid mark in the crotch area – in addition to other stains in the pouch from sweat, from precum and even cum drippings. That dirty underwear was forcibly stripped off from a very handsome straight college athlete they abducted from a bar a week before, who fought back furiously. That college boy’s musky crotch odors were very pungent – he was on the road travelling the previous two days and didn’t have the opportunity to change or shower.
His captors loved the smell as much as they lusted after that college boy’s body. Unfortunately for the college boy, several of his potential buyers watching live via video stream wanted to see him flogged, pin wheeled (neural stimulator) and tickle tortured first for first two hours in his underwear, blindfolded but ungagged, suffering greatly, before it was taken off. After a solid week of being edged, milked and raped, before being bought by some rich businessman from South America. The college boy apparently reminded that businessman of a straight boy when he went to college in the US – and who kicked his ass for making an overture to suck his dick one night after a party.
The businessman was always able to buy college boys now who resembled that long ago boy. This one would suffer endless edging, milking and sucking off his cock, and also endless raping of his virgin straight ass by him – and numerous friends and guests at parties he would have in the coming year. The guys in the van wondered about that very handsome college boy and what was happening to him just this moment. But only for a second. Their thoughts were focused on the incredibly handsome straight boy restrained and at their mercy in the van with the college boy’s dirty briefs gagging him.
For them, it was an incredible erotic and sexy sight – forcing Curt to inhale and taste the dirty underwear of that college boy they kidnapped last week.
For a straight boy, especially one like Curt, the very thought of looking at, never mind being forced to touch and smell another guy’s dirty underwear, was totally disgusting and dirty. He could taste and smell the old piss other crotch stains from the college boy’s dirty boxer briefs. He was repulsed and had to hold back his instinct to vomit.
Added to that was he simply could not believe what was happening – and had no idea what these guys wanted. He had no money – that was obvious by his hitchhiking.
After seeing this handsome straight boy spread-eagled and helpless, Bobby couldn’t resist feeling the boy’s biceps – this time in a slow worshipful way that he wanted to do. While Curt stared down in disbelief, humiliated by what these guys were doing to him, Bobby put his nose at the pit of his left arm, the t-shirt still damp from the heat with little armpit hairs still poking out. Bobby sucked on a few strands – as Curt cursed him and struggled – and then abruptly yanked them out causing Curt to yell furiously through his now soaked dirty underwear gag.
Bobby next stared directly into Curt’s face, smiling and began sniffing his way down from his neck down slowing between his two muscled heaving pecs covered by his tight white t-shirt, inhaling his sweaty odor, down to this flat hard stomach – and then putting his face into the boy’s jeans crotch to inhale the pungent, aromatic and musky odors there.
“God he smells great” and then grabbed his bulge, exclaiming “he’s big”
Curt struggled and tried to yell through his gag mmmuuuuthfuuugahdsofmmmmhhhhh!!!!” at his abductors.
Aaron joined the fun and like the others, ignored him his protests. They all loved his resistance and struggling and then lifted up part way his t-shirt to expose his flat tanned stomach rippling with muscles and his navel that was haloed lightly by hairs that trailed down to his still hidden pubes. Aaron wet his finger in his mouth and then drilled it into Curt’s bellybutton, swirling it around, tickling it.
Curt thrashed violently like a wild colt at being touched- to no avail. The t-shirt fell back in place, covering up their prize. For now.
“Beautiful abs! Sexy innie belly button for us to tongue! Treasure Trail! Hmmmmm….Whata package!” Aaron exclaimed, fingering lightly the boy’s muscled abs and again sticking his finger into his belly button and tickling his sides a little – not too much.
Curt reacted violently to being touched by a guy like that. Both of his muscled arms yanking hard at the chains, each of his legs trying to kick and break the chains that spread him out. Now he knew it was his own body they were after.
He was outraged – and still confused. How did this happen? A guy abducted and pawed over like some helpless girl by a group of guys? The faggot nerdy guys in control?
This isn’t something that ever happened before or a danger that anyone warned him about growing up – like one would a girl. Yes, be careful of strange adults – or even priests or coaches that touched you too much – but to be abducted, kidnapped and tied up by a group of faggots who wanted your body? And then he thought about that pervert faggot Noah who lived upstairs in that apartment. Fuck! He took video and pictures of him naked and other pictures of him shirtless. What the fuck is it????
He yelled, though muffled “FFFFFFNAGAAAAYFFFFFNHHDME!!!” , something that sounded to the others like “FUCK NO!” and “GETYOURFUCKIN HANDSOFF ME”
His body reacted violently again, yanking even harder now at the chains that restrained his arms and legs like a doomed fly caught in a spider’s web.
After a few minutes his struggling tapered off, sweating from the pointless struggle – realizing he was helpless. He could take these guys – but his body didn’t react the way it should have and then he realized that the beers were – even with the sealed cans – somehow drugged.
Filled with lust for Curt, they just stared back at him smiling ignoring him, loving how he still wanted to act like he was in control – as if he could give them orders to do anything. They ignored him while he struggled and continued their exploration of his body using their hands and noses inhaling all of his straight boy sweaty musky odors. In out-rage, fear and disgust, Curt suddenly bolted up his body as far as he could go, and with a burst of energy yanked one leg than the other and then both arms.
It was futile. They knew it from the time they spotted him on the road. Curt just didn’t know it – yet. It took time and painful intense prolonged abuse for a straight handsome boy like Curt, who was used to being in control, used to always feeling entitled and arrogant, to suddenly being rudely forced to comprehend that he was none of those things now. Even longer to realize he never would again.
Now the other guys also began feeling the boy up, touching the defined mounds of his pecs, and hard flat stomach. He moaned once or twice in rage, desperately trying to shake them off, moving his body this way or that. But the restraints spreading his legs out and his arms up tightly didn’t allow much lee-way for him. His muscled body was totally exposed to them.
Ever so often a finger or fingers would touch him in such a way – deliberately it seemed – so it sent a ticklish sensation that caused him to shriek through his gag – and his body to jerk involuntarily. He was worried about that – worried that these sick fucks would abuse him – like raping his ass – but also now if they thought about tickling the shit out of him.
The thought terrified him – but his mind was overwhelmed by conflicting thoughts of outrage, resistance, terror, and confusion while trying to figure out what was happening and why. And how he could escape it. But his mind was a jumble of those thoughts.
His captors loved doing this – but were careful not to over do it, wanting to get Curt fully acquainted with his new life at the ranch dungeon with the multiple video cameras, live video stream, and a vast array of posts, tables, beds, chairs and equipment and tools to use on him. They wanted him to rest briefly before his ordeal really began – so that his defiance and struggling would still be at its peak for the video cameras and the live video streaming audience of prospective buyers. The video cam in the van did record everything – including the scene when they leaped at him and restrained him. That was a hot scene that prospective buyers would want to see later for sure, including his yelling, struggling of the boy as he was being fondled and touched by his captors. But the van’s cramped quarters made it hard to fully see everything and lighting was always a problem. So they always waited until they got to their ranch dungeon facility.
After 20 minutes of the initial touching – including the slight tickling that terrified Curt, they remained content for the moment to simply stare at their beautiful new captive, who shifted uneasily back and forth, covered in a new layer of aromatic male sweat, ever so often pulling on the chains. His head – his hair damp from his sweat – was slightly bowed from the exhaustion of the struggle and the still lingering strong effect of the drug. He passed out, though when he came to, the van was still speeding down the road. No one was touching him, but he was still tightly restrained, blindfolded, gagged and could sense the guys in the van around him. Curt had no idea how much time had passed or where they were or where they were headed.
A few moments after Curt came to, one of the guys pulled out the boy’s wallet in Curt’s right back jeans pocket, and that caused Curt to struggle again and yell a muffled protest.
They excitedly went through it as if it was a long lost treasure – giving tid bits of precious information about this handsome boy. He was the perfect age for them: 22 years old.
“Well Curt, we are going to have a lot of fun together!!!” Aaron said, groping the boy’s bulge again, as he yelled.
“MMMMMMNAAAAAAAFUUUU” Curt’s muffled enraged response.
Daniel and Eric poked their fingers into the damp t-shirted armpits of Curt, causing him to gasp and buckle his entire body with a muffled hysterical laughter, his hands tightening into fists. They sniffed their fingers, inhaling the boy’s pungent armpit sweat odor that was mixed with a fading deodorant he must have put on earlier in the morning. The mixture was all straight boy – and they loved it.
“NNNNNNNAANANANANNANA” Curt yelled, in rage trying desperately to hide the sheer panic and terror he felt of being tickled. He hoped they didn’t see or hear him react to that.
Suddenly Curt could feel the van lurch to a stop. Curt’s had to fight off the growing anxiety and terror of what was to come and the butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea where he was – or what would happen next. All he knew for the moment was that something very bad was going to happen to him.
His tormentors stared at the him knowing they were moments away now from unwrapping and abusing their prize. Bobby – who especially lusted after Curt, licked his lips constantly, staring at the straight boy’s bulging mound, knowing they would soon stripping him to finally expose what had to be a tasty hot piece of fuck meat. Bobby knew he would have the first taste of that throbbing fuck rod and knew he would have as much time as he wanted to edge and cock polish the shit out this arrogant cocky straight boy. He knew he could drive the boy to insanity by his edging and cock polishing skills – knowing he almost certainly never experienced either in his straight boy sex life.
Curt, blindfolded and gagged couldn’t tell what his tormentors were doing now but knew they had arrived to wherever it was they were taking him to. He closed his eyes and summoned all the will-power he had in him to stop the sensation of utter panic and fear that in turn made his stomach sick with the distinct warning signs that he was going to vomit. He could taste the bile in his mouth.
He flexed and his body grew taut. He shook his head and fisted his hands. He fought off the nauseous feeling and suppressed – for the moment – the feeling of sheer panic and terror.
He could feel the van slow and then stop.
Fuck them he thought. I’ll get out and I’m going to fuck them over when I do he vowed.
TO BE CONTINUED…..(Chapters 7-11 will posted soon. Please leave comments and give rating – and support this site! Thanks!!! – Eric Lane
Posted on 29 August 2014 | 5:30 pm
A hot jock gets blindfolded & tied down for a fraternity’s tickle initiation from a horny complete stranger.
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Jock Tickle Initiation
by R.J.
It was 9 PM on Dec. 26, when the knock happened at the hotel-room door. I opened the door only to see before me one of the finest examples of boy-next-door Jocks around. He stood there in his t-shirt, jeans and; baseball cap, not sure exactly what to expect. All he had been told was that he was to meet this former fraternity member at the hotel and; do what ever he was told. This is what he was told. What I was told was that I was to tie him down, blindfold him and tickle him for 2 hours, eventually making him climax.
I invited him in the room, asking him to remove his sneakers at the door. They were damp from the heavy snows of the day (at least that is what I used for an excuse). We sat and talked a little. After about 10 minutes I asked “You think you’re ready to proceed?”. He said “I really don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?”. He was quite right. If he didn’t go through with it, he would not get into his fraternity. “Strip down to your briefs and; socks.” He did so with no hesitation. “Lay on the bed and; put this blindfold on.” Again he followed orders to the letter. I took each wrist and; tied it to the post of the bed, wrapping the wrist with washcloths so not to get rope burns. I tied his waist in place, and also his knees. Then I went down to his feet in white socks. Probably a size 9. I tied 1 ankle down. As I tied the other 1 down, I let 1 finger drag up the sole of his foot just a bit. His foot wiggled and he said “Careful, Dude!!” That was the reaction I was hoping for.
Once he was securely tied, I pulled a feather duster out of the bag of props I’d brought along and hung it over his belly. He shivered a little as I made 1 pass with it, but still didn’t know what was about to happen. Then I made a pass with the duster on the nipples. Again he flinched. Still he had no clue. I went back down to the belly and let the duster go continually back and; forth on his belly. He bit his lower lip, trying to fight the feeling, but after a few minutes I began to hear a giggle escape from his lips, which finally erupted into a full-fledged laughter. I had a real winner in this one. “OK Buddy! Quite messin’ around and get started. I ain’t got all night. I put down the duster and put a hand on each of his sides. “Buddy, we’ve all ready begun. This is it.”
I let my fingers scurry on his sides as he started to buck on the bed. The laughter was full and; loud. “Oh man!!! No way!!!! Mike, I’m gonna get you for this!!!!!!” Mike was the frat brother who had set all this up. I moved up to his pits and; dug in. “You want me to stop? Is it too much?” I knew he couldn’t refuse without failing his initiation.
After about 25 minutes of this, I decided it was time to move to the lower portion. I stopped and; stood. “Thanks dude. I couldn’t take much more.” I walked down to the foot of the bed and just stared at his feet. Remember, he was blindfolded and had no idea where I was. “You gonna untie me now?” I put each hand within an inch of his feet and prepared.
“You still there Buddy?” Suddenly his feet wiggled a little and bumped against my fingers. Oh Shit!!!! He knew where I was now and; what was going to happen. Letting the fingers fly up and; down his soles, he laughed unlike anyone I’d encountered before, and I must say I’ve had my share of tickle/torture scenes, but this guy was more sensitive than any I’d EVER encountered. The time flew as I realized another 20 minutes had passed. Slowly, I peeled each of his socks off.
“Oh shit!! Dude!!! How much more?” I grabbed the duster and; lightly dusted each of his feet with the feathers. He laughed, wiggled and; jumped, but never did he beg me to stop. Kind of nice having such an obedient slave. Rarely have I found a man who the feather duster worked on. This was a real treat.
Another 20 minutes elapsed. I put down the duster and; pulled out a bottle of baby oil and poured it on his feet. It was kind of cold. “Shit!!! What the fuck is that?” I put the bottle down and began to massage his feet, letting my hands glide up and; down. “That feels great Dude.” Then I started quickly running my fingers all over the bottoms of his feet. I forgot to mention. This only makes the fingers move faster and makes the tickling that much stronger.” It was true. My fingers were literally flying along the skin now. He was bucking wildly, but now his attitude changed. He was making more erotic sounds between his laughs.
After another 15 minutes, I decided he was ready for a little more, so I pulled his briefs down to his knees. I would have had him take them off from the start, but didn’t want to give him any clues as to what was to happen. I once again picked up my trusty duster and; ran it on what had become a very large erection. “Oh!!! PLEASE!!!! Then I stopped. “Should I stop?” Half laughing and totally out of breath, all he could say was “Keep going.” And so I did. I continued to apply the feathers to his crotch as my free hand worked his right foot. HE laughed and; moaned and; moaned and laughed, trapped somewhere between pleasure and; torture. Another passage of time and he asked “Can you untie 1 of my hands? “You want me to stop?” I asked. “No, but I gotta get off.”
I untied 1 hand and went back down to his feet and tickled his feet as he stroked away. He was getting closer. I continued to tickle 1 foot as I grabbed the duster and; began to tickle his balls. He hadn’t expected that, I guess. He shot quickly, then laid there catching his breath.
“Thanks dude.. That was great. Gonna tell Mike I passed with flying colors?” I just stood there and said No one said we were through yet.” He had gotten off, but I was still totally aroused and of need of release. “No way Dude!! Taking my pants off, I lay on the bed next to his feet and; once again began to tickle. For those of you who don’t know it, after a guy has cum, he is even MORE ticklish. This guy was no exception. I must confess, it didn’t take long for me to cum, not with his being so sensitive. Once through, I untied him and let him get dressed. I led him to the door, shook his hand and said “Welcome to the Fraternity.”
I still think on that night. After a few months I was on the computer 1 night and received an Instant Message from someone called _____ (You didn’t think I’d give the name, did you). It was my ticklish initiate, He was searching for someone to tie and; tickle him. Not only had he become a fraternity brother, he had become a convert.
R.J.
Posted on 19 August 2014 | 5:00 pm
When the author meets a cocky eighteen year old high school wrestler named Tony, he challenges the jock to a male tickling session to prove his manhood and earn $100.
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How Ticklish Is Tony?
by Lyle Blake
I saw him late one afternoon in my local supermarket. Just a shade over average height and very nicely put together. He was striding cockily down the aisle in front of me, clad in a tightly fitting one-piece wrestling suit that clung to his small ass and accented his long lean legs. He didn’t have a T-shirt on under the suit, so that its narrow straps and scooped-out armholes revealed the broad shoulders and rippling muscles of a truly fit athlete. A cap of jet-black hair covered his well-shaped head. The way he carried himself said arrogance, macho cool and raw sex appeal. I knew that I had to have him.
I turned and hurried back the way I had come, rounding the corner and heading quickly down the next aisle so that I met him coming the other way. He didn’t give me a second look, so I was free to feast my eyes on his exceptionally handsome face. His skin was a perfect alabaster white, and the eyes were deep blue, framed by very long, very dark lashes. I judged him to be about eighteen, maybe a bit older.
I started to follow him through the store. When he got to the dairy section and stopped in front of the display where cartons of eggs were stacked, something funny happened. Another boy, very similar in coloration but with a less mature face and a relatively undeveloped frame, came up behind him, evidently making a deliberate effort to walk softly. This kid, who looked about fourteen, was definitely sneaking up on my muscle boy. The older hunk made his selection and reached up to a high shelf to lift down two cartons of extra-large eggs. For the split-second that he paused in the act of lifting the cartons, both arms were raised high over his head, causing puffs of dark hair to show at his deep armpits while the thin material of the wrestling suit clung to his sides and outlined a prominent ribcage. That’s when the younger kid struck. Pouncing with a little cry of triumph, he ran dancing fingers up and down his victim’s sides and then jabbed two fingers of each hand into those inviting pits. The reaction was extraordinary: The older guy gave a violent jerk that convulsed his entire muscular body, while an explosion of laughter erupted from his lips. His arms came down involuntarily as if pulled by strings, the two egg cartons went flying, and there was a spectacular mess on the floor of the aisle.
The young kid found all this terribly funny’. “Oh God, Tony,” he gasped, “if only you could have heard yourself! And look at the mess you’ve made!”
Tony was flushing beet-red with embarrassment and anger. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m getting even with you, Tony,” was the youngster’s smug reply. “You think just because you’re my big brother that you can do anything you want to me. I’m sick and tired of you wrestling me down to the ground and tickling me silly every night. Just because you’re bigger and stronger doesn’t give you the right to pick on me!”
At that moment a pleasant-looking woman with the same dark hair as the two boys rounded the corner and exclaimed in dismay. “Mom! Look what Tony did!” the younger one was quick to point out.
Tony, his serious perfectly chiseled face set in an expression of concern, tried to explain. “I couldn’t help it, Mom. He sneaked up behind me and tickled me and made me drop them–”
She wasn’t buying his excuse. “Now, Tony, I’ve told you before that a boy of your age has no business being that sensitive to the touch. There’s no reason why a high school senior should be that ticklish. Why, last week when your cousins held you down and tickled you at the family reunion, I thought you were going to die, you were laughing so hard.”
He looked even more embarrassed, if possible, and shuffled his feet. She went on, “As a partial punishment, young man, you are going to walk home from here. And it will serve you right if it rains on you!” With that, she collected the younger brother and swept away. In the meantime, as Tony ruefully headed for the outside door ‘ my mind was whirling. Surely, Tony would appreciate it if a helpful driver stopped to offer him a ride?
Ten minutes later, having waited in my car to give him a little head start, I spotted him walking along the side of the highway and swerved over. He was full of thanks as he piled into my passenger seat and leaned back, spreading his long legs and stretching his arms out, giving me another peek at his muscular secret pits and the rippling muscles of his tight stomach where the wrestling suit clung to it.
I tried to get the conversation going in the right direction by complimenting him on his body and asking about the wrestling suit.
“Oh, yeah,” he drawled, “we have a really wild time on the wrestling team. It helps keep me in shape, and the guys are a real blast. We just finished having tryouts for this season’s team, and next week we’re gonna have the initiation for the new team members.”
My groin stirred at that word, “initiation,” I started to evolve a perverse scheme. “Initiation, huh? What kind of stuff do you do to each other?”
He laughed. “It’s mostly really stupid stuff, because we’re not allowed to do anything that causes pain or would really hurt you. So we make the new guys do stuff like put ketchup in their hair or run around the block in their underwear. The idea is to test each wrestler to see how cool he is. We try to make him beg, and he tries to tough it out no matter what we do to him.”
I cleared my throat. “I guess you had to go through the same thing when you joined the team, huh?”
He was incredibly casual and relaxed. “Sure. But they didn’t get me to knuckle under. I’m one cool dude, if I do say so myself.”
“Hmmm. I can tell you are. But I bet I could get you to give in, if I had you tied down so you couldn’t move.”
He laughed again. “Oh, sure! You’d threaten to cut my balls off or something! I’m tough, but I’m not stupid!”
“No, no. Even if I had to follow the rules you use in your wrestling initiation, doing nothing that would hurt you or cause you pain, not even anything that would leave any marks, I’m sure I could get you to surrender and ask me for mercy.”
This arrogant kid wasn’t convinced; he curled his upper lip into a sneer, which made my racing blood quicken even more. “I bet.”
“Wanna bet? I tell you what. I’ve got a hundred bucks in my dresser drawer at my place. You come by there with me right now, and if I don’t have you caved in and begging by dinnertime, the hundred bucks are yours.”
He gave me an incredulous look. “Let me get this straight. You tie me up. You don’t hurt me, you don’t do anything that’ll leave a mark on me, all I have to do is keep my cool for an hour, and I get a hundred bucks?”
“That’s right.” I made the turn onto my street.
“But if I lose–I’m not gonna lose, of course–but if I were to lose, I sure don’t have a hundred bucks to pay you.”
“That’s okay. We’ll make this like that game Truth or Consequences. If you lose, I get to pick a consequence and you undergo it.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Sounds good to me. Let’s get down to it.”
Soon we were in my apartment. I led the way into the bedroom and got some very sturdy leather straps I just happened to have in my closet. “What do you have on under the wrestling suit?”
“Just a jock.”
“That’s cool. Strip down out of the suit and lie down on the bed and I’ll get you all set for the test.”
He seemed unalarmed at the order to strip, probably thinking incorrectly that there was nothing sexual going on as long as he got to keep the jock on. I almost held my breath as he grasped the straps and slowly peeled down the top of the suit. Because of his dark coloration, I had feared that he would have a hairy body; to my pleasant surprise, his smooth firm chest was not blemished by even a single hair. The pecs were small but solid, the nipples soft and succulent, the tummy flat and hard. He kicked off his hightops and stepped out of the suit, standing there for a second in the tightly fitting jockstrap. Then he lay down on his back and, without my even having to prompt him, stretched his arms and legs out to the four corners of the bedstead.
I worked fast with the straps and there he was, firmly tied spread-eagled before me, absolutely helpless, his delectable ribs, rippling stomach, and dark hollow armpits mine for the taking. My hands were shaking as I began the test.
“Yep, Tony, you sure do look tough.” And I bet you are.” He smirked up at me confidently. “But I bet I’m right about something else too. I bet you’re pretty ticklish.”
The smirk vanished, and his already pale skin went several shades whiter. His eyes goggled slightly at me, as he made a choking noise in the back of his throat.
“So what do you say, Tony? Are you ticklish?”
He had to clear his throat. “Uh. N-no. No, I’m not.”
I wanted to make him say the word. “You’re not what, Tony?”
“Er, I’m not … ticklish.” He was trying to be ultra cool, but I noticed that he was surreptitiously flexing the muscles of his arms and legs to see how firm his bonds were. I went on.
“Well, it’s a funny thing, Tony. Some young guys are a lot more ticklish than they think they are, even when they’re big tough muscular guys who’ve gotten almost all the way though high school. You might just be more ticklish than you think. I tell you what, Tony. How about if I test you to see how ticklish you are?”
He licked his lips, obviously terrified out of his wits. “No, I don’t think you have to do anything like that. You can take my word for it. I wouldn’t lie to you. I know what I’m talking about.” He was almost babbling.
“No, Tony, I really think if we’re going to be fair about this bet I have to find out everything I can about your body. I guess I’ll start with your sides.” And grinning fiendishly, I reached out for him.
Using one finger of each hand, I slowly started to stroke his lower sides right above where his jockstrap ran over his hipbones. Moving lightly, with a delicate teasing touch, I gradually inched up toward the bottom ribs.
“Yeah, it’s funny how some guys are such pathetic wimps that they can’t stand to have anybody even touch them. I’m glad you’re not like that. Now remember, Tony, if you want that hundred bucks, if you want to prove you’re as tough as you say you are, you have to keep your cool. I don’t want to hear a word of protest, not even a sound.”
I got to the ribs and started to exert a little more pressure. There was no way Tony could stay still while I was doing this to him; he bit his lower lip and squirmed a little bit.
“What’s the matter, Tony? I thought you said you’re not ticklish.” I kept my fingers going.
“I-I’m not.” Now I started using all my fingers and thumbs, caressing each rib as I traveled up his obviously sensitive sides. He was panting in shallow gasps now and really starting to squirm a lot more, but the straps had him helpless.
Tony was fighting desperately not to show me how ticklish he was, but after what I had seen and heard in the supermarket he was doomed. I got to his deep muscular armpits, outlined by his straining tendons as he struggled in his bonds. I started to draw little circles on the smooth patches of skin just under the pits, at the top of the ribcage. Tony couldn’t stand anymore; as much as he tried to stop it, he jerked under my hands and started to giggle.
“Hey, Tony. I thought I just heard you start to laugh. Are you sure you’re not ticklish?”
He was still giggling, because I had not stopped drawing those deadly little circles.
“Because if you really are ticklish, that means you lied to me. And it means you’re not as tough as you thought. Come on. Admit it.”
He had his eyes screwed shut, and his mouth was working helplessly as he clenched and unclenched his fists, where they were bound securely up above his head.
“No, no, I’m–ha–I’m not–ticklish–ah,ha,ha–no–”
My ruthless hands slid into the deep hollows of his pits and started to move back and forth over the damp curls there, and he burst into agonized laughter.
“Okay! Okay!” he gasped between gusts of laughter, as he fought for breath. “I’m ticklish! I admit it!”
“Good,” I said, continuing to probe and stroke his incredibly sensitive armpits, while his muscular, almost nude body writhed and bucked beneath me. “Now all we have to do is find out how ticklish you are.”
He was laughing so hard by this time that he couldn’t talk any more. I stopped the tickling and gave him a chance to catch his breath, while I shifted my position and started a close-up examination of his stomach.
It was gorgeous, hard and well-muscled, and right in the middle of it was his belly button, open and vulnerable to my touch. The belly button was a fairly deep one, with a wrinkled bottom, and when the sheaths of muscle in his gut jumped and flexed as he continued to jerk under me the secret cavity of his navel seemed to be contracting and expanding before my eyes, almost as if asking to be explored. I smiled.
“Hey, Tony, this looks like a really nice belly button. Since you’ve finally admitted that you are ticklish, I guess you won’t mind if I try tickling you down here. What do you say?”
I stiffened the index finger of my right hand and slowly started to lower it toward his belly, and I saw his eyes widen in fear.
“C’mon, man, you don’t need to do that. Let’s move on to some other part of the test.”
“No, Tony, I really am curious to find out exactly how ticklish you are. And since we’ve proved that your word can’t be trusted about your ticklishness, the only way for me to find out is by personal experiment. Here goes.”
With a feathery touch as light as a spider’s footsteps, I started tickling all around the edges of his belly button, and he went berserk. This area must have been even more sensitive than his armpits, because he started to arch his back and twist from side to side in a desperate attempt to escape my relentlessly tickling finger, all the while letting out with these deep hearty gales of laughter that seemed to be erupting up from the very bottom of his stomach.
Finally my index finger went right down into the belly button, scraping and poking and prodding, and that did the trick of pushing him over the edge. His laughter took on a higher pitch, and he started to beg.
“No, don’t, please don’t. Stop. Ha, ha ha, stop. I can’t stand it, hahaha, don’t tickle me anymore. Ah, ha. I can’t stand to be tickled. Please, stop, I’ll do anything you want if you’ll just stop!”
“Well, Tony,” I said cheerfully, finally stopping the torture and removing my finger, “it looks to me like you’re not going to win our bet. But I think, just to be fair, that I ought to give you one more chance to cooperate with me. I have to tell you that I got a big kick out of tickling your armpits. You’ve got such nice muscles, and the tendons there make them look so deep and inviting, especially when you’re working your arms trying to get loose from those straps, that I’m not sure I can control myself, just thinking about tickling those pits again.”
He interrupted me, almost hysterically, with a “No! No!” but I just kept talking.
“As a matter of fact, the only thing I can think of that’s going to stop me from tickling you to death up in these armpits–” and at this point I raised both hands and poised them directly above the vulnerable hollows, “is if you can accurately repeat after me the magic phrase: Please Don’t Tickle My Armpits, Kind Sir.”
I was now wiggling all my fingers in the air, and he was already giggling and jerking and almost out of control, even though I hadn’t touched him yet.
“No, ha, don’t. I couldn’t stand it, you can’t! Don’t!”
“You’re not saying Please don’t.” My fingers got closer to the puffs of dark hair in his deepening pits.
“Okay, please don’t!”
“Please don’t what?”
He was going crazy now, flexing his powerful arms and bunching up his shoulders, but he was very securely bound and absolutely helpless. “Please don’t tickle me!”
I stopped the descent of my hands but kept the fingers wiggling. “I don’t think you were listening to the magic phrase, Tony. Please don’t tickle you where?”
Now he was laughing steadily while he twisted in his bonds, totally psyched out by the deadly wiggling fingers that were within inches of touching his open and sensitive pits. “My armpits!”
“A whole sentence, please.”
“Don’t tickle my armpits, please!”
“Sorry, that’s not it.” My hands moved almost imperceptibly, and he made violent motions as if he would start to climb the walls if he were free.
“No, ah, hahaha, c’mon, don’t, please. Not my armpits, please.”
“I’m sorry, Tony, but you’re not doing too well on this test. I told you there was only one magic phrase that would stop me from tickling you to death here in your pits, and you haven’t said it yet.”
With that I lowered my fingers all the way and started lightly tracing the insides of his armpits, stroking the sweat-dampened curls and running fingertips all along the inside edges, and he started screaming.
This was a fantastic moment, a moment to give a lifetime for, as he bucked and thrashed so violently beneath my ass that I was almost thrown off. I tickled those helpless armpits without mercy for a good ten minutes, while he laughed himself almost unconscious, then I pulled back
His normally pale skin was heavily flushed as he gasped for breath and fought to regain his composure, and he refused to look me in the eye. I laughed myself, although not as heartily or as desperately as he had.
“Okay, Tony. Repeat after me, and I won’t tickle you anymore. I am not a tough guy and I never was.”
At that he did look at me, with a glare that showed just a trace of his old cockiness. “Tony, I don’t think I heard you.” I poised the fingers of one hand right over his belly button, and he caved in.
“Okay, okay. I’ll say it.” He paused slightly and then mumbled, I am not a tough guy and I never was.”
“I didn’t quite hear that, Tony. Could you say it again, a little louder?” I flexed the fingers that were hovering just above his rippling stomach, and he blurted out in a loud voice, “I am not a tough guy and I never was!”
I got off the bed and put a sad look on my face.
“Tony, I do believe you’ve lost the bet.”
“I don’t care about the bet. You can keep your lousy hundred bucks. Just don’t tickle me anymore.”
“Whatever you say, Tony. Only don’t forget our agreement. Now I get to pick a consequence for you to undergo.”
Fear returned to his handsome face. “Don’t tickle me anymore! Please! I can’t stand to be tickled! You know how ticklish I am!”
“Oh, I’m all through tickling you, Tony. I’m not even going to touch you again. You just have to give me your phone number.”
He looked suspicious, but another wiggle of my fingers persuaded him. I walked over to the bedside phone, congratulating myself on coming up with a priceless consequence to cap this afternoon of tickle torture.
“Yes, Tony, this afternoon in the supermarket I saw this young teenage guy who looked like he might have been your brother, and I sort of got the feeling that you’ve been picking on him a lot. Maybe even using the advantage of your stronger body to get him helpless so you could tickle him. I imagine that he would love to get back at you but up to now he hasn’t had the chance. It seems to me that if I leave you tied up like you are now you’ve lost your physical advantage. What do you think would happen if I got him over here right now? I bet he could get in a good hour of tickling you before your mother even missed you!”
Tony was starting to beg again as I picked up the phone.
Lyle Blake
Posted on 12 August 2014 | 5:00 pm
Straight boy Dean expects a professional massage but soon finds himself attached to a milking machine that makes cum over and over again in this story by Hephistian.
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Releasing Tension
by Hephistian
**Author’s Note: Having ducked out of the “story business” for a few years,I was contacted by a massage therapist who provided me with some experiences and insights that helped inspire this adventure. It’s more his story than mine, but something to think about and enjoy. Of course, the
author cannot be held responsible for any sudden erections you mayexperience during future massage sessions.**
The human body has always fascinated me. Anatomy and physiology were my favorite subjects in school, and while nursing was my intent, it ended upthat massage therapy was a lot more rewarding to me. I’d always found touch to be a powerful and useful tool in healing, and so after a few years of doing the “salon-spa thing,” pawning my skills in back of people giving perms and pedicures and making little money, at 32, I decided to open my own business out of my home. And it was the best move I ever made.
Now, I’m what I guess you would call “bi,” though I think limiting yourself with labels is ridiculous. The body is beautiful, whether male or female, and I believe this has truly helped my business with a diverse clientele. And I should point out that whether rail-skinny, or lean and muscled, or sporting some extra padding, the body and its intricate design are simply amazing to me; it seemed that people of all walks were comfortable on my table. But what I found most interesting was the way the body responds to touch — in particular the way men react to it.
See, women are very receptive to touch, allowing themselves to “live in the moment,” giving themselves over to the sensations and not so reserved about relaxing and vocalizing their enjoyment of the massage. A moan, a sigh, or even the gasp of discomfort, they were all expressed freely.
Then there were the men, who always seemed to have something to prove. They’d typically “just lay there and take it,” as if the massage was some right of passage, a test of their manhood showing that they could unplug themselves from the experience. And honestly, it became annoying to me. I found myself getting an odd pleasure from having their bodies betray their calm composure, watching their penises twitch and throb under the sheet, seeing it rise and drip as I calmly and professionally worked the groin as though I didn’t notice. And soon, having a guy loose himself in the feeling of the massage, hearing him groan in pleasure, seeing the precum gather on the tip of his penis, this became a guilty pleasure of my own.
So for the past few years, I have been studying the “art” of the “Penis Milking Torture.” Well, not really a “torture–” as every guy I’ve introduced to it has enjoyed the experience immensely, and many come back for future sessions. After years of trial and error, the best setup and tools that I use are a custom-made, black, luxuriously padded massage & restraint table that accommodates the client face down (with a nice face hole) with his legs spread apart about two feet and the Venus 2000 from Abco Research.
My subject this evening is Dean. Dean is a white male, 19 years old, married, has one child and is a carpenter. He is 6 feet tall and of average build and looks, with short-cropped blondish-brown hair. While hardly what I’d call “hot,” he’s got great dimples, an easy smile, and that kind of personality that you just enjoy being around. He’s quick with a laugh, and sports the big hands and small gut that tells of hard working weeks and hard drinking weekends. I instantly liked him. Dean has never gotten a professional massage before and we talk to kind of loosen things up a bit.
It seems that Dean lost his footing while decking a roof, and in catching himself from falling off the trusswork, he pulled his groin and hamstring. Not unusual. But as we talk, he starts telling me more about his background, his problems at home, a recent DUI, and other tensions. He asked if I could help with that as well, and I said of course.
Now truth is, Dean was referred to me by a mutual friend who has been “milked” by my setup three times, and he begged me to introduce Dean to the process. My professionalism forced me to say no, but upon meeting Dean, I was starting to think differently.
I introduce him to the massage room, which is an upstairs spare bedroom in my house near a park. The idle chitchat becomes talk of the table and the standard questions. I ask him if he is comfortable and to disrobe and lie face down on the table, naked if he’d like but underwear is okay if he’d prefer. I leave for a few minutes, check voicemails, come back, knock lightly, and re-enter the room.
Dean is face-down on the table, covered by a light sheet, and listening to the New Age music on the CD player. He seems relaxed, so I spread some warm oil on my hands and his back and begin. I find he is suffering from serious tension, so I work the knots in his back and shoulders for a while, hearing his breathing soften and his sudden intakes of breath as I hit a sore spot; but true to form, he mostly remains quiet and still. After working my way down his back to his legs, notice he has removed all his clothes as I suggested. My mind thinks ahead to the possibility of milking the boy, but again, I try to remain professional and focus on his trouble areas. But honestly, his obvious effort to keep stoic is annoying me. I want to hear this guy make some noise.
As I work his thighs, I can see his penis poking down, mashed in next to his scrotum. My hands sweeping nearer and nearer his genitals, pressed tight under his body’s weight, they make a few casual brushes against his cock and balls. He twitches at first, but quickly recovers, mutters something like “sorry,” and I continue. My deep fingerwork finds its way closer and closer to his “taint,” and as I continue to massage his obviously virgin glutes and between his spread legs, I notice his cock is growing tighter and smoother under him.
I suddenly say, “Here you go,” and reaching under the table, release the padded panel aligned under his crotch. “That happens a lot with guys, don’t worry about it.”
As the panel opens down, his penis and testicles hang freely and slightly stiff under the table. I see his has a fairly average dick, maybe 6-1/2 inches when it reaches full erection, with medium balls in a tight sack, and everything dusted by a soft, bushy mound of light-brown pubes that are longer and straighter than most I’ve seen. But in the moment I spy his equipment, what strikes most me was the thickness of his cock — it was clearly as big around as it was long, giving it a stubby, blocky appearance; and at the circumcised tip, a head that was so fat, it seemed almost square.
That was it, I had to do it. I would get this stump of a cock aching for release, and before I was done with him, the boy was going to cum for me.
I straighten up and say, “So, Dean, you are a mess of tension.” He grunts an agreement. “I can certainly help you out, but it’s going to take some unorthodox methods to get there. I can get it done now, no extra charge for it, but it’ll take a few minutes to get set up. Are you alright with trying or would you rather wait?”
He grunts again, talking at the floor through the face-ring of the table.
“No, that’s fine. I need something, anything, to get rid of all this shit. Do whatever,” he says.
I smile. “Okay, well, the first thing is to get you lined up straight on the table,” I say. “Now part of this is to basically immobilize you so you remain aligned. Is that alright? I want you to be comfortable.”
“Sure,” he says. And I set to work.
With his cock and balls hanging conveniently down through the table, they will be easily manipulated, so I begin to immobilize Dean with padded Velcro straps (ankles, knees, thighs, waist belt, wrists, elbows, back strap, neck strap and head harness) and soon he is completely unable to move.
Returning to his taint, I begin working my fingertips in small circles, ever closer to his tight hole. I feel the area throb repeatedly, knowing his cock is twitching and waving under him. Over the next five minutes, I get closer and closer to his pucker, sweeping my hands over his ass, between his cheeks, and grazing his clenching anus.
“Okay, Dean, this is a tricky spot, and I want you to just relax,” I offer.
“What are you doing?” he asks nervously. This is truly the tricky spot, but having gone this path dozens of times, I know the best things to say to keep the guys calm and receptive.
“As you can feel here,” I say, rubbing his swollen and throbbing taint, “you’ve got some other tension that needs to be worked on. Probably from sitting, but also from stress. I’ll keep it very short and if you experience any discomfort or pain, you tell me, I’ll stop. Okay?”
“Yeah,” he says uncertainly, but I also know this type of guy. He’s out to prove something, and doesn’t want to appear the pussy to another man. He’ll “suck it up,” even when his mind is pushing back. Perfect.
With plenty of oil on my hands, I quickly wipe some lubricant on my fingertips, and start the entry of Dean’s ass. Slowly, gradually, my index finger massages his tight pucker, rubbing tiny circles over it. And after a few patient minutes, I gently push inside him. His hole folds inward, tight against my digit, and I feel his oil-slicked ass-hairs against my skin. His body tenses, probably knowing this intrusion was coming, and I gently slip my finger out.
“I don’t think I–” he starts, but I’m ready for it.
“Just take deep breaths,” I say, “in for three, hold for three, out for three, and again. You’re doing great, Dean.”
But then I push inside, deeper this time, then out. Deeper then out. And soon, two fingers are exploring Dean’s firm prostate as he numbly breathes away the violation. With my other hand, I lean over him and continue rubbing and stroking his taint. I feel his ass push back, just a fraction of an inch, his hips trying to hump his thickening cock against thin air. It’s nearly time.
We continue this for another five minutes or so. Dean is confused but cooperative under my touch, his body sending his mind signals it finds hard to translate. But his cock is having no trouble understanding it all. While not fully erect, there is a thin, clear line of precum connecting Dean’s cock to the towel I folded under the table. It twitches with his pulse; I’m sure his heart is pounding away in his chest.
I gently pull my fingers out, and run my other hand tenderly down his back. His hole clenches a couple times as I withdraw, and he visibly relaxes before me. Kneeling next to the table, I ask, “How are you feeling, Dean?”
“Okay, I guess,” he replies, his voice cracking slightly at first. “Guess I’m pretty tense inside, too, huh?” he jokes and tries to laugh. This is obviously not the type of massage he had imagined, but he’s too polite and too proud to let on.
“Good, good,” I say. “You’re doing really well. Just relax. In fact, it looks like you’re doing very well.” I playfully tap his semi-hard cock.
He jumps slightly and laughs nervously.
“Now this next part will help with that and all your tension,” I promise.
“Just relax, and when we’re done, you’ll feel more relaxed than you’ve probably ever been.” I glance at a foot locker strategically placed under the table. “In fact, I promise you will feel completely `released,’” I tell him, using an industry term for a massage that comes with an orgasm. “You could even say you’ll feel pretty drained.” How true that is.
I reach under the table and touch his rubbery dick. It’s hot to the touch, and he lurches slightly in the restraints. He can’t move much, and this realization probably only now hits home. Time to act.
“So, Dean,” I say calmly, never letting go of his dick. “Keep breathing like we talked about, and just relax.” My attitude is straightforward and professional. My voice, firm and reassuring. I see his head try to turn slightly as I speak.
“Dude,” he begins. “Dude, I’m not wanting–”
“Oh, this?” I ask, squeezing his dick. “No, don’t worry, this is just part of the massage. A specialized technique that has some tantric roots. But no, I’m not gay,” I half-lie, “and you’re safe. I promise, you’re not going to get a handjob from me.”
He laughs again, that pitiful, nervous laugh that’s as much to ease his own mind as it is for my benefit. Without missing a beat, I continue to gently stroke and squeeze his dick with one hand and quietly get two squirts of lube on my hand from a pump bottle under the table.
By now the subject is semi-hard and at least very curious as to what is going to happen. I thoroughly lube up his cock with the Astroglide that matches well with what’s in store for this helpless teen. Opening the small foot locker box under the table reveals the true tools of my torture device — the device that will forever change the way Dean looks at dairy cows. He alternately tenses and relaxes as my fist coats his cock with lube.
I slide his slippery rod into the liberally lubed “receiver” — a sheath inside a clear plastic tube that is just longer and wider than Dean’s stiffening cock. The receiver’s velvety smooth texture sliding along his prick makes his cock almost rock-hard now. The receiver is connected by a very flexible hose to the Venus 2000 (check it out at www.sybian.com) that I purchased for my own self-pleasure. Because of health and safety concerns, I use new receivers for each victim — er, uh, subject. This wonderful device is the ULTIMATE male milking machine, period.
The penis is encased in an enclosed soft latex liner inside a clear tube that will stroke at practically any speed and depth. The basic principle isthat the penis is sucked and stroked by using a closed-air system. The diaphragm in the power unit moves air in and out of the receiver. This makes the receiver go up and down on the penis shaft. The very, very soft rubber liner has the texture similar to a silken rubberband. When lubricated, it is indistinguishable from the sensation of having your cock inside an actual person — in fact, it actually feels much better! The amount of suction and length of stroke can be adjusted by adding or removing air from the system. This is done with a large syringe connect to another tube. The entire air system is closed so lubricant and cum juice cant “gum” up the works. Yes, you can blow your load right down its throat without removing the receiver! Very well-engineered and thought out.
With his cock in the receiver and my hands on the remote controls (connected by cord to the power pack) we begin. The receiver needs to be set as to not come off at the long end of the stroke so we take a little air out of the enclosed system by pulling back on the syringe handle.
I start out slow– about 60 strokes a minute, just to get the juices flowing– “Oh shit… dude, aw, man… what are you… aww!” I can tell my subject is beginning to get into to the stroking because his hips are attempting to thrust his now throbbing cock deeper into the receiver with every up stroke.
I hear him moan and he says, “Faster– please, a little faster!” I oblige him and increase the speed to about 90 strokes per minute. He says, “Oh my God! that is the best… AW!” His fists are now clenched.
The receiver moves up and down the victim’s cock and is tight enough to see the veins starting to pop out on his rod. The wide, fat head of his prick is getting much well-deserved attention because the air-tight cavity keeps the lubricated rubber liner pressed against the entire penis surface. Most guys never have this kind of stimulation on their dicks, at least not without being in control of it.
“Faster!” he says– so I bring the speed up to a ball-shaking 150 strokes per minute. His reaction is shocked and immediate. “Oh fuck!” he blurts, his view limited to the floor before him. “I think…aww…I think I’m…oh fuck!…I’m going to cum…aw shit!!” His whole body quakes in rhythmic motion as the unmerciful receiver keeps sucking, stroking, and sliding up and down his stiff cock. Its soft velvety texture brings every nerve ending to complete arousal.
He’s stopped breathing, prepping for the impending ejaculation. He’s totally at the mercy of the humming pump of the Venus, entirely linked to its relentless sliding. Its non-stop rhythm keeps going despite his paralysis, and then, his body locked in the embrace of a forced orgasm, he lets loose with low, growing moans –”Ohhhh… mmmm… mmmmmm!… MMMMM!!! AWWW!!!” — and string after string of white semen exits his prick. The receiver jolts and wags, never stopping, up and down, up and down, pulling the cum out of the 19-year old’s pulsing cock. Up and down…
I watch his body jerking face-down on the table, hearing the Velcro straining and the table creaking as Dean tries to thrash, to add his own movements to that of the receiver but it makes no difference, Venus doesn’t care, it strokes hard or soft, fast or slow, ready to cum or totally spent, and wont stop until I turn it off. The machine keeps right on going. Now here is where the good part begins.
Normally, the human male wants to stop thrusting because the penis has just shot its load. But the Venus 2000 doesn’t understand that– it wants more. It just keeps stroking, sucking, and grinding the cum out of this poor guy’s twitching cock. So I do what every guy wishes he could do himself, but his body won’t let him — I speed it up; this is why it is called “milking torture.”
His moans and cussing from cumming are still at their peak when I ask casually, “I’m sorry, did you still want faster?” I crank the dial up to 200 strokes per minute, which is over three strokes up and down his tender cock every second as it tries to spew out the last of its cum.
The room is filled with the loud humming of the Venus, quickly joined by a sound from Dean like gasping choking as his mind tries to deal with the new, intense sensations from his battered prick.
“NO! NO! Stop!” he cries in anguish. Dean tries in vain to pull away from the sliding suction action but he can’t move since he is strapped down. The receiver keeps slamming away. Its strong suction action won’t let him shake it off now matter how hard he tries. “STOP! STOP!” he yells. The straps are pulled taught by his now wrenching body. His toes curl and he yells, “Please STOP! I can’t…! oh God, no, please…! please…I can’t…take it anymore!” The receiver unmercifully keeps right on stroking, squeezing every drop of boyjuice out of his cock.
Dean’s wailing drowns out the sounds of the Venus’s incessant suction. I watch, as fascinated as I always am with my victims, as Dean thrashes and begs, as he cusses and screams, as his body tries to reject the onslaught of pleasure that the Venus impersonally delivers.
No doubt Dean’s cock is growing numb — or trying to — but the Venus is unimpressed and demanding, and continues its assault. Then, something happens that Dean would have never expected. He cums again.
In the middle of his screaming fit, not a minute after his first orgasm subsided and his torture began, the nonstop stroking and suction of the Venus’s receiver has begun coaxing a fresh load of cum from my client. I lean back and watch it unfold, hearing Dean’s cries climb from agony to ecstasy in an instant.
“PLEASE…! Oh fuck please… turn it off… uh… dude please…! UH! I… OH FUCK… OH FUCK!… I wuh… I wuh… EI-UH… EEIIIYYYYYYYY!” As the boy’s body spasms and shakes, the blur of the receiver under him is crowned with splatters of hot cum dripping and flying from the end. This continues for what I estimate is the better part of 10 seconds, until, his semen glands depleted again, his body suffers the aftershocks for long afterward. A bizarre and erotic sight — two orgasm, truly back-to-back, in less than three minutes. Amazing.
After 30 seconds of the most intense cock-exploding, non-stop orgasm, and almost tearing the restraints out of the table, I slow the unit down to about 60 strokes a minute. I notice the sweat on Dean’s back. His rapid, panting breathing.
“Oh my GOD!” he shouts. “I have never, ever cum like that! EVER!” I notice the cum dripping out of the ball-check of the receiver end-cap. I use Astroglide as a lubricant since in all of my experiments it has worked the best. I have an old Windex type bottle set on “stream” to give a few shots of fresh lube on the flesh of his almost-flaccid cock. The Venus is still stroking, sucking, and pulling on his member. With the addition of some fresh lube, the receiver now goes down farther on his shaft.
“Dude, hey, what are you doing?” he asks, slightly panicked.
“Just a little added attraction,” I reply. Then back to business. A little more air out of the receiver acts like a penis pump that strokes too. His cock is raw and plump. The adjustment keeps it that way.
“You aren’t going to do this to me again?!?!” He’s obviously never considered that I wouldn’t stop. Obviously never had to deal with the overload of sensation from his screaming cock.
“Not me,” I say calmly. “The machine. It wants your cum. Just relax and let it come to you. Feel the pressure building within you. Let it collect, and then give it away.”
He grunts and strains in the straps. “Aw fuck… FUCK!”
Dean’s rubbery cock is making a desperate, slow crawl toward his body, trying in vain to escape the sliding motions, trying to go limp. But it’s no use. The receiver’s negative pressure keeps his cock “inflated” and receptive. The pump under the table driving the receiver over his dick and driving Dean toward another unwanted cum.
The Venus doesn’t care about recovery periods and post-orgasm sensitivity. And for the moment, neither does Dean’s body. His cock is harder by the second and looking to be drained once more — despite the agonizing pleasure that’s making him bounce in the straps.
A little faster now, back to 90 strokes a minute. “Holy fuck!” he shouts. “No, don’t,” he begs. “Please, not again…”
His breathing is shaky, coming in ragged pants. He’s taking what sounds like gulps of air, then moaning in between. Then with all of the veracity of a bull in a rodeo stall trying to buck its way out, he cries out as his cock shoots dribbles of juice in one explosive wave after another. And no matter how he pushes or pulls or twists, the sleeve continues to stimulate his flagging prick. In seconds, he is shoved from unbelievable pleasure to inescapable agony. Yet, as I watch his bare white ass in front of me, his body continues to offer more and more spunk to the heartless device, his asscheeks clenching and releasing in a spastic rhythm only his raw cock understands.
As the last of his cum exits the open end of the tube, I slide the dial back up to 150 strokes a minute.
“Hooohaaaaah! Jesus! Oh…oh…oh my God!” The receiver keeps pulling to get more semen out of his rock-hard manhood with even greater intensity. Up and down, unwilling to stop, uncontrollable, unmerciful. His body wants to give more, but cannot. He’s dry, spent, and suffering. The Venus continues, each second it slides up and down and up and down and back up … second … after second … after second.
He definitely knows who is boss now. I let this period between agony and ecstasy last for another full minute, Dean babbling meaningless syllables. As I slow the unit down and slowly bring it to a stop, I see the big spot of cum under the table on the towel and dripping from the open end of the tube. His thick, spent cock is still twitching inside the diabolical device, bouncing with the aftershocks of his third “unnatural” cum. Dean’s body, a masterwork of nature and physiology, has been milked — even raped — by a machine. And still, his cock aches for more.
I slide the receiver off his dripping, swollen member. Being careful not to touch the engorged, twitching, and very sensitive organ, I begin releasing the restraints. His skin is marked where the straps were and he is covered in sweat.
I place a towel over him and ask him to lie there for a while until his strength returns. After 10 minutes of becoming reoriented with his surroundings, he walks into the adjoining bathroom for a shower that continues for nearly ten minutes. Then he slowly returns and flops down on a chair in the corner, his clothes still forgotten after the intimacy of this experience.
So, Dean, what do you think?
“Dude,” he says slowly. “Fuck that.” He laughs. “Fuck no, never again.”
“I can fit you in next Thursday at 4:00,” I say.
Dean laughs and rubs his sore penis. He looks at the floor and touches his cock again. Squeezing it from the base, he pinches a tiny glob of cum out of his dick. He smiles and shakes his head in disbelief, then leans back.
“Sure.”
Got him. I pause and lean against the table. “Or,” I say. “We could go again now. I’ve got another hour before me next client’s due.”
“Hour?!” he says. But I can see he’s actually considering. And was it just me, or did Dean’s cock just twitch again…?
Hephistian
Posted on 8 August 2014 | 5:00 pm
Eighteen year old wrestler needs to pass a doctor’s physical exam to get on the college wrestling team. When the handsome doctor discovers that Timmy is ticklish, he puts the boy through a tickling ordeal that drives him crazy!
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The Check-Up
by Pete_Roc
Timmy Brown sat nervously in the doctor’s waiting room. He couldn’t concentrate on the glossy magazine propped on his knee and from time to time he chewed away at one of his fingernails.
He presented quite a different picture from the joyously excited Timmy of a few days ago. Then he had just been accepted on the college wrestling team and he was sky high with exhilaration. The freshman had undergone a tough tryout and emerged victorious to clinch a coveted place on the team.
It really was no surprise to anyone, except perhaps, Timmy himself. The eighteen year-old had been an avid wrestler all through high school and the intense physical training had given him a superb body. He was perfectly proportioned with a thick, V- shaped torso, sturdy legs, and a high, tight, ass. His shining green eyes and curly chestnut hair were Nature’s gifts and needed no workouts to maintain.
But a shadow of dismay had settled in those emerald eyes when Timmy found out that all athletes were required to undergo a physical exam to be certified as able to play any college sports. That necessary certificate had brought Timmy to the nervous vigil in the doctor’s waiting room.
Of course Timmy wasn’t worried about his health. He was hardy as a colt. But he had never enjoyed being poked and prodded by doctors. Their roaming fingers gave him feelings of … well., he didn’t even want to use the specific word for his reactions. It only seemed to make things worse. He was trying mightily to keep his mind off the entire subject, when the nurse called out his name.
Timmy followed her into an examining room. She asked him to undress to his shorts and said the doctor would be right with him. The nurse was carrying her coat and handbag with her as she waved good-bye to Timmy. His “after hours” appointment was scheduled as a favor to the wrestling coach who didn’t want any delays in getting the medical certificate. Timmy would be alone in the office with the doctor.
Timmy barely had time to kick off his sneaks when the door opened again. The doctor entered.
For some reason, Timmy’s nervousness increased. There was nothing alarming about the man exactly. In fact, the first thing that popped into Timmy’s head was that he was a handsome young guy. He could not have been more than thirty. Timmy guessed that he had probably just started in his own practice. Timmy hoped that the man was not too inexperienced. (It later became apparent that the doctor’s knowledge was exquisite.)
Timmy was surprised at the doctor’s clothing. He was wearing the loose green hospital work clothes called “scrubs”. The tops were short-sleeved with a deep V-cut neck. The droopy clothes seemed as loose as a pair of pajamas. The comparison made Timmy wonder what was beneath those clothes, since, under the pajamas, what he himself wore to bed was nothing.
Timmy could see that one thing was plainly beneath the doctor’s get-up: hair. And plenty of it. The doctor’s outstretched arm was covered with coarse dark hairs that crawled up under the short sleeves of the green garment. And another forest of dark strands peeked over the neckline stretched across his collarbone. Timmy almost found himself staring at the sight so different from his own sleek chest and arms. Timmy reached for the doctor’s outstretched hand as the older man spoke.
“Hi! I’m Dr. Jack Bennet. You can call me Jack.”
Timmy nodded at the man, his mouth suddenly dry with nerves at the thought of the impending examination. “As soon as you’re ready,” said the young doctor as he seated himself near the corner desk, “we can begin.” He frankly stared at Timmy, waiting for him to undress.
Timmy’s hands shook as he tried to unbutton his shirt. The doctor’s unblinking stare made him shy. Timmy was used to being naked in the locker room, but there everybody was in the same condition. Here, the doctor was all covered while he had to peel down. He thought of turning his back, but what would be the point of that? The doctor would see everything, sooner or later.
In moments, Timmy was standing in only his clean white jockey shorts and cotton athletic sox in the chilly room. But the thumping of his heart sent hot blood coursing through his body until a pink flush burned his cheeks. The doctor spoke.
“Now lie on the table, Timmy.”
The boy hopped up on to the vinyl padded table and stretched himself out. The crisp white paper beneath him crinkled as he moved.
Doctor Jack approached Timmy; he never looked away from Timmy’s eyes.
The freshman felt painfully vulnerable. He was stretched out for the doctor’s inspection while clad in the flimsiest garments. Was Timmy imagining things? It seemed the long blunt fingers on the doctor’s hairy hands were twitching in eagerness to begin examining the young athlete’s body.
Doctor Jack placed a stethoscope in his ears and stretched out the disk toward Timmy’s chest.
The freshman jumped as it made contact with his skin. It seemed to be giving off tingling vibrations.
“What’s the matter, Timmy? Did I hurt you?”
“Uh uh.” Timmy grunted. He wished that Doctor Jack would hurry, up and get it over with! But the physician stopped and questioned Timmy further.
“Well, something made you jump. What is it?” The doctor lowered his voice to a chilling whisper, “Are you…ticklish?”
Timmy gulped. His secret was out. The word he was fighting against had been spoken. But he would not give in so easily.
“Maybe Just a little bit.”
The doctor’s face set into a grim expression. “It seemed like more than a little bit to me. How does this feel?”
Quick as a flash the young doctor ran the index fingers of each hand down Timmy’s side from the prominent ribs to where the elastic of his underpants hugged his hips.
Timmy shrieked at the touch and grabbed the hairy wrists of the doctor.
“Yes! Yes!” Timmy admitted breathlessly. “I’m ticklish!”
The doctor pulled his hands away and solemnly contemplated the panting boy,
“That’s not good, young fellow. We’ll have to investigate this phenomenon more thoroughly.”
“We do?” Timmy gasped
“Yes. We do. Extreme ticklishness can be…er…a sign of a serious neurological disorder. Until we discover the extent of your sensitivity, I can’t possibly give you a health certificate for the wrestling team.” The dark-haired man moved his face directly in front of Timmy. His electric eyes seemed to hypnotize the eighteen year-old. “You do want that certificate, don’t you?”
The youngster seemed helpless to argue with the doctor’s commanding voice. He nodded.
“Then I am going to have to give you a ticklishness test.”
“Oh no, please…” Timmy moaned.
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Doctor Jack went on, “As soon as I get you ready.”
The doctor vanished from Timmy’s vision and the boy stared at the ceiling paralyzed with anxiety. He was unable to resist as the doctor prepared him for the test. Within seconds Doctor Jack had Timmy securely fastened to the four corners of the examining table. Leather straps from beneath held the teenager fast by the ankles, and his wrists were stretched over his head. It all made sense to Timmy, who didn’t even try to resist. He knew that if he was going to be tickled there was no way he could stay still without being held.
Doctor Jack stood back from the palpitating body strapped to his table. The only sound in the room was the heavy breathing of the immobilized Timmy.
“Almost ready.” Doctor Jack said, which made Timmy’s heart sink with despair. He produced a pair of surgical scissors from a cabinet and snipped away at Timmy’s jockey shorts. Now what had been apparent was made obvious. Timmy had a hard-on. A thick erection stretched up from his groin. It was almost glowing from the freshman’s heat and excitement. The doctor gave a little chuckle. “Believe it or not, Timmy, you’ve just passed the first test.” In a swift flurry, Doctor Jack shucked off his green hospital wear.
Timmy’s questions were answered about what was beneath that droopy outfit. Doctor Jack’s body was clad in only a jockstrap. The rubbery pouch bulged over the man’s erection. But he could hardly have been called naked. His thickly hair-covered body almost seemed clothed in a fur coat. It seemed every inch of his well-developed frame boasted fuzzy nap.
Wide-eyed with terror, Timmy saw Doctor Jack turn and open a cabinet in the examining room’s wall. The boy was fascinated by the pattern of dark hairs on the doctor’s back. He was too preoccupied watching the man’s furry butt muscles framed by the clinging jockstrap. He didn’t see what the young doctor took from behind the locked door. At first.
Then he saw.
Timmy exploded into action his paralysis gone. He yanked with all his strength at the unyielding restraints clamping him to the table. As the doctor slowly approached the struggling wrestler, the boy’s panic found vent in words.
“Please Doctor Jack, don’t use those things on me. Please, I didn’t realize…I just couldn’t take it! Forget about the certificate and the team. Really, I don’t want to be tested for ticklishness! You’ve got to let me up. Please No-No- DON’T!!” Timmy’s pleading dissolved into inarticulate gasps as the doctor approached ever closer. Timmy bucked against the ropes like a frightened horse, his convulsions sending ripples of force through his erection, scattering droplets of moisture from the tip.
Timmy shut his eyes, unable to watch as Doctor Jack began the test.
A touch as light as baby’s breath blew against the chiseled ribs of Timmy’s torso. The pressure increased until the helpless boy burst forth in giggles. His eyes flew open, unable to hide from his torturer.
Doctor Jack was using feathers to tickle Timmy’s captive body. The swarthy physician’s knees were straddling the teenager’s hips so that the excited boy’s erection was thrusting against the doctor’s jockstrap-covered hard-on. Gripped between the hairy knuckles of each hand were the fluffy red plumes the doctor had retrieved from the private cabinet. The tickling toys danced lightly along Timmy’s heaving ribcage.
Doctor Jack began inching the feathers toward Timmy’s armpits. They trailed through the streams of perspiration flowing down his sides. Timmy cried out as he saw the destination of the maddening feathers.
“Oh God! Not my pits! Doctor, don’t do this. You’re making me crazy. I’m just too ticklish! Please, let me go! I can’t take it there!
But Timmy’s frantic words only urged the doctor on more. His hard-on peeped over the thick waistband of his Jockstrap and gobs of fluid drooled over the taut elastic.
When the feathers began tickling Tommy’s armpits he thought his heart would burst. The fronds of the dreaded feathers felt as if an army of ants had crawled into his wide open armpits. Thousands of unbearable tickling sensations exploded on the sensitive skin of those vulnerable hollows beneath his shoulders.
He couldn’t help it; Timmy began to laugh. The relentless doctor teased cascades of laughter from the ticklish athlete. The boy tried to talk whenever he got breath to do so.
“Please Doctor Jack, HAHAHA I’m going crazy HEE HEE HEE It’s not funny…Please stop HAAHAAHAA STOP!!”
The tickling stopped. Timmy gasped for breath and choked back the tears of laughter that the cruel tickling had caused. “Thank you! Thank you! Please now, let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
But Doctor Jack made no attempt to untie the unhappy teen. He bent closer to the handsome athlete and mopped the sweat from the youngster’s brow. “Don’t be silly Timmy, we aren’t through yet. Besides how could you leave here in that condition?”
The doctor pointed at the stalk of the teenager’s excited maleness. An expression of lascivious smugness on his face, Doctor Jack enclosed the young hard-on between the fingers of his hairy hands.
Against his will, Timmy groaned with pleasure. The doctor’s strong fingers were coated with some sort of grease that sent scores of delicious chills throughout Timmy’s over-stimulated body. The slick grip soon had the college freshman arching his back and growling like a cat in heat.
But such unalloyed pleasure was short-lived. Without breaking the wet stroking of Timmy’s fiery hot rod, Doctor Jack deftly applied the feathers to the jiggling scrotum beneath.
Timmy yowled as the bumpy skin was besieged with unbearable tickling sensations. The tender ball sacs and the secret skin behind then were some of the most ticklish places on Timmy’s sensitive form. He was immediately writhing furiously as his youthful body was undergoing both torturous tickling and an expert jack-off at the talented hands of the young physician. But the fierce sensations were too much for the teen.
“Please, doctor HA HA HA Stop! Stop! I can’t take it HEE HEE HEE HA HAHA I’ll do anything you want! HA HA HA Please stop I’m going to burst!! OH! OH! OH!”
The doctor increased his stroking and tickling of the teenager’s genitals. The feathers gyrated wildly against the bouncing testicles until Tommy’s hysterical laughter squelched his begging for mercy.
Doctor Jack knew his business. He saw the look in Timmy’s eyes, the bright red patches on his sweating cheeks. He squeezed the boy’s rigid member and tickled even harder on his wobbly nuts. Timmy Brown cried out as his cock erupted into streams of thick white orgasm. Then the boy slipped into darkness.
Timmy woke up. He was slumped on the couch in the doctor’s waiting room. He was alone. He was also surprised that he was fully dressed.
Timmy felt exhausted. Had his encounter with the fiendish Doctor Bennet been only a dream? Had he slipped into sleep while waiting to be called in for his appointment? He wasn’t about to stick around to find out. After a nightmare like that, Timmy was not about to let any doctor ever go near him again for the rest of his life. Timmy fled the office. Descending in the elevator, Timmy reached into his jacket pocket and his hand touched a paper there. He pulled it out. It was the school’s health certificate. It was signed and stamped by Doctor Bennet. Timmy had passed the check-up.
Pete_Roc
Posted on 6 August 2014 | 5:30 pm
The author kidnaps a hot lifeguard and ties him down for an intense tickle torture session in this story by EvilGuy23.
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Fun With a Lifeguard
by Evilguy23
I was strolling along the beach. Suddenly my eyes fell on the most sexy and handsome lifeguard I have ever seen in my entire life. He was 6ft 4inches tall, had dark hair and deep brown eyes. His stomach was firm and hard, his abs looked very beautiful. He had strong and long legs and two very lovely feet. I have been a tickle freak since I was a child. I walked up to him and asked him if he would like to join me at my house for some drinks and dinner. He agreed. So we drove to my house. I offered him drinks and some snacks. I had drugged those drinks. After he took a few swigs, the effect of the drugs could be easily seen. He began to swoon and finally he became unconscious. I carried his unconscious body to the basement of my house (which was now a torture chamber.) I tied him up to a rack. I put his feet in the stocks that were attached to the foot of the rack. Then I tied his toes with a thin string to eye hooks which were attached to the stocks. Now his toes were separated from each other. The gap between his toes was exposed and vulnerable. His feet and toes were restrained so tightly that he could not move them even an inch. His hands were pulled over his head and chained to a ring in the wall. Then I decided to start the action. I waited for him to come to. After some time, he began to show some movement. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to pull his arms and legs. But he realized he was tied up and started cursing and yelling at me at the top of his voice.
“Lemme go, you fag. I will kill you for this” he said. I was quite amused at this guy. There he was, tied up and completely at my mercy, but he still had the cheek to curse me! I gave him a wicked smile and walked up to him. I told him that he was my slave and would endure lot of suffering at my hands. I picked a bottle of my favorite oil and poured the oil on his body. I applied the oil on his hard-muscled body. I caressed his thighs and his chest as I rubbed oil onto the lovely hunk. His body shone due to the oil applied on the body. This oil was no ordinary oil. I invented it after a lot of research on the human body. This oil renders the human body very vulnerable to tickling. In other words, it makes a person 100 times more ticklish than he is.
I picked my electric toothbrush and began to run it between his toes. The tickling made him with and scream in pleasure as well as pain. It was like electric shocks being passed through his body. He pulled at the restraints on his hands but the restraints were too strong for him.
“P-p-p-please … hahaha, ha, ho, haha st-st-stop. HAHAHA, ha, ho HA,HA STOP pppplease, ha, ha, hee, HA, HO, AHAHAHAHA” was all he could say. Now I began to tickle the soles of his lovely feet. He was most ticklish on his feet and really went crazy with the tickling of his feet.
“NOOOOOOOOOOO, HA,HAHAHAHAHA,ho, ha, HAHA, ha ha. WhWhy are you doing this to me. Hahahahaha. Please stop. I will do anything you tell me.”
But I had no intention of stopping and losing my fun. This was just the beginning. I tickled his feet like that for almost an hour. I ran the feather up and down the arch of his soles, around the balls of his feet and on the heels. He wriggled and squirmed like a worm under my intense attack of sadistic tickling. After an hour, his voice was hoarse from the shouting, laughing and pleading. He also had gotten a hardon, which showed that, although he hated tickling, he also loved it!
“Enough of feet tickling,” I said to myself. How about tickling his upper body? I dug my fingers into his ribs and began to move them round and round. By now he was too weak to laugh loudly. All I could hear was faint whimpers. His massive body was sweating profusely. I managed to bring tears into his eyes. His eyes closed and he passed out. I had not enjoyed myself sufficiently and my victim was already unconscious.
I won’t tickle him for time being. I poured water on his face to revive him. He woke up with a fear in his eyes. Now I get a thin bamboo rod and begin to cane his chest. I apply moderate strokes. He screams in pain and begins to weep. Red streaks appear on his chest. I go on to cane his thighs. The thighs are softer than the chest and caning the thighs causes more pain to him. His agony is written on his face. After making his thighs nice and red I get on to his feet. I strike them hard. The cane bites into the flesh of his feet and causes intense stinging. He lets of blood curdling shouts of pain. Finally, I have a little mercy on him and stop the caning of his feet. But his relief is short-lived.
Ten minutes later, I return with a candle. Cooking oil is applied to his feet, and a candle is kept close to it. The heat causes the feet to cook. He begins to shout once more. I hear him screaming and moaning for an hour after which everything is silent. I go to see what’s happened. My slave has passed out once more. Well, I guess this is too much torture. I will now stop the torture(for today). I can torture him tomorrow. Good night, slave, and be ready for more intense torture tomorrow.
The End
Evilguy23
Posted on 22 July 2014 | 5:00 pm
An 18 yo straight boy with in an interested in bondage gets his first gay experience when he meets up with a local gay master.
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Straight Boy Gets a Master
by Blue Blaah
My story begins when I was 18, I’m a pretty normal guy for the most part. One thing different about myself I’ve known since I was a kid was, I enjoyed being tied up. When I came of age it seemed to have a sexual component, I’d get aroused seeing people on tv bound and gagged. I must have been 17 when my Family got the internet, I spent a lot of time using aol and other chat rooms to explore my bondage fetish. I’d search for “dominatrix” of just girls to tie me up, usually I wouldn’t get far.
There was a guy who was always in the chat room named hogtiePhoto, I once used the old a/s/l since the name was very interesting. They didn’t get back to me right away, a few days later I got a 38/m/NJ. I was pleased to see the NJ since I was too but the male part was disappointed. He asked what mine was, “I said never mind I’m a guy, but 18/m/NJ” He responds “Do you like to be tied up?” I say; “Well yes, but I’m not gay, kinda looking for a girl to do it.” “Too bad, You’re right up my ally lol, my favorite type to hogtie.” He replies. I couldn’t help but get aroused. Bored and curious I say “Oh yeah, you tie 18 year old guys up?” He tells me He is a photographer and likes tying guys up, he his married and wife doesn’t mind the bondage scenes. He usually pays $50.00 an hour for a shoot, $100 if its an underwear scenario. I was pretty intrigued about this as he added details.
A few weeks goes by and hogtiePhoto messages me on a Wednesday night, he tells me he saw the picture I just put in my profile and really liked it. He wanted to set up a shoot, I thought about it but declined. He offered $300 to keep me tied up one hour, if I change my mind the offer stands. That next Friday I was out with my buddies and had a few drinks. I got home at 8pm and was bored, I saw hogtiePhoto online and semi joking I IMed him saying “I’ll do the photo shoot for 400, tonight!” He wasted no time saying “Okay, wear the underwear I give you and you have a deal.” He lived 20 minutes away and I didn’t drive, he came to pick me up. I was nervous but excited, by 9 pm I was in who I now know as Dave. He was a normal looking white middle age guy, very friendly. He offered me a drink on the ride which I took. He explained his procedure; we enter the house, got to his basement studio and I change then lay on the floor with my hand crossed behind my back.
We enter his modest home and he leads me to his studio, I use the bathroom and he hands me a shiny pink bikini to put on. I was apprehensive but wanted the money, plus I still had a good buzz going. I get the underwear on and lay on the carpet as told, Dave wastes no time securing my wrists together with layer after layer for sticky grey duct tape, he binds my ankles and knees as well. He asks if I came get free, I try and tell him no. He just stands over me with a big smile, no camera in sight I get nervous as I realize he stuck I am. I ask when he’ll take pics since we only had an hour. He laughs and says “You don’t need to worry about time, you’re not in any position to say when you leave. Do you want a sock taped in your mouth?” I became scared but still aroused, I stay quiet. He says, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll ask you a few questions, depending on your answers I’ll determine your time here.”
1. Are you aroused. I say no.
2. Would you ever please a man orally? I said no.
3. Did you tell anyone you were coming here? No, um wait yes (lying but he knew)
He rolls me over and saw I had a hard on, then told me he knew I was lying about telling people I was there. He explains that any guy he has ever tied up has sucked dick before released, as he props me up on my knees. He removes his pants and sits in front of me on a sofa, he says if I suck him he’ll free me with in an hour. I think about it but can’t do it, I threaten to call the police. He laughs and gets up, he grabs a big role of duct tape, he gets behind me and stuffs the briefs he was wearing in my mouth. He heavily tapes my head/mouth shut, making it impossible to cry out or remove the gag. He was even bragging about how well gagged I was. Dave sits on the sofa with my head on his lap, telling me since I got mouthy with him I’ll be there at least two days and a day more everytime I disobey. He explains since seeing me in the chat room he planned on making me a sex slave, he said he loved catching young flies in his web. He said since I was bound, gagged, locked in a basement where nobody knew I was I was his. He made me watch a video of a college guy roped face down naked on a bed ( which was the same bed in the room I was in) mouth heavily gagged, eyes taped then 3 guys took turns fucking him. Dave told be the kid had 5 guys he never saw fuck him at a party Dave through because the kid was disobedient. At this point I’d been broken down, I had only been in Dave’s house for an hour and I was all his. He told me If I wanted a chance to get free, I can suck him. I shake my head yes, he says I must keep the gag on two hours then I can. After that two hours Dave said, he’d un gag me but I’d have to beg for it on video. I had no choice. I was told to say “Please sir, put your cock in my mouth”. He did. I didn’t know what I was doing but tried, he came in my mouth with in 2 minutes. He told me I needed work as he put the underwear back in my mouth, then taped them. I slept wrapped tightly in tape, with a mans underwear stuffed in my mouth with my head taped. I was still scared and uncomfortable as I have been captive 12 hours. It must of been 9 am when Dave came down strains, telling me how cute I look all gagged up. He said he was gonna keep me for a few days, he wanted to get me in the “hot bed” to entertain friends. He has high powered friends who like fucking anonymous slaves. I said ” mmmmmmmmmphhh!” He said, just kidding. He told me if I give him a really good blow job hell free me. So I had my gag removed and got to work, I used my tongue in circles and tried hard to please him. It didn’t take long. He took pictures of cum on my mouth.
Dave said it was all in good fun, but if I told anyone the pics and video with be put online. He untied me, I got
dressed and he took me home.
Part 2
A few weeks had gone by since my bondage experience with Dave. It wasn’t what I planned but I didn’t get hurt and made $500.00. I guess the extra 100 was “hush money”. I didn’t know how to feel about what I had done and what happened to me. Dave didn’t contact me for at least three weeks, one night I check my email to find Dave sent me an email. A picture of me taped up on his floor, he basically said he wanted me to do another photo session. I ignored him at first then I get a pic of me sucking him, he said “Come get tied up and make some money or this picture will be posted on walls in your neighborhood.” I agreed, besides the blackmail he seemed to have a hold on me.
The very next Friday evening I’m in Dave’s car on the way to his house, he is far more up front about his motives than our first meeting. He told me, I must call him Sir. We enter the house and head down stairs. I’m given a red thong to put on, I did as I was told. Dave told me to lay face down on the bed. It was a wrought iron four post queen bed, ropes were already tied to the corners. Dave first tightly ties my feet spread apart, the he straddles me and starts roping my right hand good and snug. As he starts to tie my left hand I realize what will most likely happen as I’m tied up, I struggle but he overpowers me and gets me fully bound. He then orders me to grab the bed post so he tapes my hands/fingers to the bed and over the ropes. I say “Sir I’m not sure what you have in mind but I don’t want anal sex.” He strips makes and straddles me, he pulls my head back and stuffs his briefs in my mouth, tapes them in good. He spends a while rubbing and spanking my ass, pulled my thong down with his teeth. He straddles me rubbing his dick between my butt cheeks, he says “I’d hate to be you now, you’re helplessly tied to a gay mans bed about to get fucked all weekend. You can scream all you want but with my dirty underwear taped in your mouth only I’ll hear you. This turns me!”
Dave rubs lube on his fingers and starts rubbing my asshole, as he penetrates me he says “The bad news is I have a huge dick, the good news is I can go all night.” He starts slow then faster and harder, I can’t help but cry out “mmmmpppphhhhh”. This turns Dave on since only he can hear me.. It was pretty painful for the 45 minutes it lasted, he came and pulled out. “Even after last time you let me strip you and tie you face down to my bed, you had to have known you’d be fucked.” He said. I wondered myself, why did I let him? Too late! Dave took pictures of me tied to his bed, he said as he wrapped tape around my eyes “I’ll send these pics to some buddies who like to fuck, maybe a few guys will fuck you and you’ll never know who.” I freak out and try to break free and scream. This made Dave hard and his dick went right back in my ass. He pounded me for another half hour.
I woke up untied, laying on a couch. Dave was very nice, he gave me $250 and a ride home. He told me he thought that is what I wanted and he wanted to help me find pleasure. I stayed quiet. After that Dave and I chatted a few times but never met again….
Blue Blaah
Posted on 13 July 2014 | 11:16 pm
Alfonso’s story of a an arrogant bodybuilder and his tickle tormentor continues as both men are abducted and subjected to an intense tickle club initiation including tickling, shaving, wrestling and more.
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The Barefoot Bodybuilder, Part Two: The Initiation
by Alfonso
Series: The Barefoot Bodybuilder
Bob Morrell and I, two of the hottest bodybuilders you’re ever likely to see, were tied up, naked. in a panel truck headed God knows where. We had been tied to padded chairs, chairs pinned to the floor. Our leather bound ankles secured to padded foot stools. Our arms are tied to thick steel hooks sticking down from the ceiling.
“Hey!” Vern Smith shouted from the front his voice booming through the truck like a cannon. He was driving; to speak to us, he had to push back the little window that separated us from the driver’s seat. “Put blindfolds on those wimps! That’s part of Initiation.”
Joe Cianelli reached into his black leather gymbag and handed the blindfolds to his lover, Pete Patowski. The sandy-haired hunk took great care that we would be unable to see anything, even taping cotton pads on the edges of the blinds. The satin blindfold felt cool against my eyelids. My heart was pounding. I was nervous as hell and, I’ve got to admit it, excited too. My cock started to twitch.
“Looks like you’re really getting into this,” Joe said, his voice booming through the van. And that was just his speaking voice. I felt cool fingertips right behind my balls. I moaned. Then the fingers started to speed up. I smiled. I Couldn’t help it. Even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good, I bit my lower lip.
“Aw.” Joe said. “Is baby ticklish?”
Laughter erupted from me in waves. My muscles strained against the ropes. I’m a strong fucker, but I might as well have weighed ninety-eight pounds; all this tickling made me as weak as a pup. I felt a hot tongue pop into my armpit and I really started to howl.
“Get that fucker.” snarled Bob Morrell.
Bob had every reason to be pissed at me. Not an hour earlier, I tricked him into some inversion boots at the gym. An ex boyfriend of his had told me about his little weakness, and I played it for all it was worth. Bob deserved it, the arrogant fuck!
Now he was egging Joe on and loving every minute of this crazy scene.
“Tickle the shit out of him! Who the fuck does he think he is, getting me like th-”
“Who the fuck do you think YOU are, shithead!’ Joe yelled. “We’re calling the shots here! I think YOU need a little demonstration, man. Just to show you who’s really boss here. Pete, get those turkey feathers!”
“No!” Bob screamed.
Joe’s lover, Pete, laughed wickedly. I heard the sound of a zipper opening, maybe to that black duffel bag I saw earlier. Bob pleaded with them like a little boy trying to avoid a spanking. My face flushed as my cock began to stiffen even more.
“Oh. God,” Bob said, barely able to suppress his giggles. “Not ha ha…my FEET…PLEASE! Aaaagghhhhh! Hahahahahahaha!”
Well, they were really giving it to that son of a bitch! Just like I had earlier, when I tricked that blonde jerk into the inversion boots at the gym, attaching one-hundred pound dumb bells to his wrists. That idiot thought I was going to teach him a new exercise! I tickled the thunder out of him. I had a great time . . . until Vern Smith, my boss, came back unexpectedly with Joe Cianelli and Pete Patowski. Just WHY they came back, I still don’t know. Now Bob and I are both being dragged to God knows where.
Hearing Bob carry on the way he was, screaming, pleading, laughing his fool head off, gave me a terrific hard-on. They didn’t let up either, totally merciless. Had him going for at least an hour.
Then I noticed something; the sound of tires on a gravel road. Where the fuck were they taking us?
The panel truck turned. We stopped so suddenly, I would’ve fallen off my stool if I wasn’t tied so securely. I felt the bonds loosen around my ankles.
“Don’t even think about pulling any stunts, hot stuff,” Joe said. “We’ve got plans for you.”
Bob whimpered as we were shoved out of the van. I almost lost my balance on the cool ground.
“Stand still!” yelled Smith.
They had left our blindfolds on, of course. I felt leather tighten around my ankles again. Fingers played with my sensitive instep and I giggled.
“This is going to be good,” Pete purred. “Real good.”
A door creaked open. Somebody pushed me forward.
A strange, deep voice boomed, “Welcome to The Barn!”
The Initiation was about to begin.
The Barn turned out to be much warmer than the outside; I’d say the temperature was about seventy-five degrees. Even the floor was fairly warm. I heard footsteps behind us. Suddenly, my blindfold was yanked off.
Saaren Stiller stood in front of Bob Morrell and me, studying us. Saaren was Smith’s lover and the man who loaned Vern the money to start the gym. Saaren’s family was second only to the Duponts in pharmaceuticals, and it was rumored that he had made a lot of money in illegal drugs as well. He looked far younger than he actually was, somewhere in his mid-fifties. Well over six feet tall, Saaren’s body was powerfully muscled, with wide shoulders tapering down to a hard stomach and huge legs. The black leather encasing his body gleamed as if it had a life of its own. His handsome face showed no emotion; he might as well have been looking at livestock. He scratched his totally bald pate and chuckled. Others laughed with him.
Hearing the others in the Barn was like having ice water thrown at my face. I turned my head; the place was packed! I never saw so many good-looking guys under one roof, not even at the gym. Men of all ages and types, most of them dressed in leather. There were about a dozen guys directly behind Saaren; most of these hunks were completely shaved from head to foot, wearing nothing but spiked slave collars and leather jock straps.
“Vernon, you did well in bringing in the extra. . . amusement,” Saaren said, looking directly at me. “Now we have three to initiate instead of just one. I could almost forgive you for keeping us waiting.”
Vern’s face flushed, but he said nothing.
Saaren laughed as he strutted right over to me. I was too scared to look at him directly, so I kept my head downcast. But he cupped my chin in his large, beefy hand and lifted my head. I’m not a little guy by any stretch of the imagination, but Saaren really towered over me.
“I’ve had my eye an you for a long time,” he said.
His eyes were ice blue. Goosebumps popped up, starting at my calves and crawling up my spine to the back of my neck. He laughed; deeply, heartily.
“I’m going to make you suffer!” he roared. “And I’m going to make you beg for more!”
I passed out in a dead heap, Saaren’s laughter pounding my ears.
I finally came to; somebody was licking my feet, his moustache brushing the base of my toes while his tongue lapped the my sensitive soles. My feet were restrained, somehow, so trying to pull away was useless. I was in hysterics even before I had a chance to open my eyes. I wish I hadn’t.
One of the slaves was licking my feet, which were bound in heavy stocks. My wrists were shackled up and behind me to an ugly wooden post and my ass was firmly planted on a wooden stool. One glance to either side of me and I found out that I was in pretty hot company, but they weren’t getting tickled right now.
“Please. . . Hahahahah…stop a minute…Hahahaha…I need to breathe! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!” I knew my pleading would be useless, but I had to try.
The handsome slave gave me a sly grin And stepped up the action, using his slender fingers to tease my arches. The tickling came in one big wave after another. My throat started to get a little raw from all the laughing and my head felt like helium just got pumped into it.
“Mario, stop!” Saaren roared.
The slave stopped and crawled like a dog over to Saaren. He stood there, just as casual as you please eating a roast beef sandwich. Lots of mayo formed a ring around his mouth. He patted Brian on his shiny bald head, the slave kissing Saaren’s boot tenderly.
Men strolled around the barn, eating sandwiches, drinking beer or soda pop. Some of them pointed to us and chuckled. I could see a simple buffet set up at the far end of the barn.
“You shithead!” Bob spat. “Look what you got us into!”
“Shut up, asshole. You’re just going to make things worse!” This from the guy on my left. That voice. I turned my head. Patrick Colby, the guy who told me about Bob Morrell’s little weakness. I had run into him at the Eagle. He used to go to Vern’s gym until he broke up with Bob about a month ago. Patrick sure had a lot to say that night!
“Who are you to call anybody an asshole, Bob”, I yelled.
“I was talking to Patrick, fuckface!”
“Be quiet, boys.” Saaren said, like he was our dad. “Things are going to be tough enough. Don’t force me to give you extra punishment.”
Then, Saaren whispered to Mario, who scrambled away towards the buffet table.
“You!” Saaren bellowed, pointing his finger at Bob Morrell. “I know all about you! You need to be taught a little lesson in humility!”
Mario crawled back to Saaren, carrying a jar of mayonnaise in his left hand. Holding the jar near his shaved, muscular, chest, the slave had to limp like a wounded animal. Saaren smiled as he took the jar from Mario. The master snapped his fingers and called out a half dozen names. Instantly, slaves gathered behind him, their eyes bright; they were eager for his commands.
Bob gulped, his magnificent body covered with tiny beads of sweat. His mouth tried to form words, but nothing came. I almost felt sorry for the jerk.
Saaren turned his immense back to us and spoke softy to the slaves. It couldn’t have been for more than a couple of minutes, but it sure seemed like a long, long time.
By the time Saaren showed his face to us again, Bob was sweating bullets. None of us dared to look directly at the towering leather master as he strolled over to Bob. The sound of Saaren opening the jar of mayo made me tremble; the room was that quiet. All the members stopped talking and eating. Starting at Bob’s pits, Saaren smeared mayonnaise on Bob’s body, really laying it on thick at the most sensitive places. Bob’s trembling seemed to amuse the master of masters; his laugh was deep and nasty. By the time he got to Bob’s huge feet, Saaren was laughing almost as hard as Bob was. Saaren paid special attention to the tender places between his captive’s long toes. Bob went wild.
“No more man! Hahahahahahahaha! Please! I’ll really lose it! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
Saaren finally stopped.
“You know what to do boys,” he said to the salivating slaves. “Get him!”
The slaves lunged at Bob like a pack of wild dogs. Lapping at his body, they sent Bob into orbit. Every muscle popped and rippled out as he tried to free himself. No way. They had tied us all good and tight.
“This…is… CRAZY! Aaagggggggggggggghhh! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Please! You hahahahaha GOT TO STOP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Thirty minutes or so passed by. An hour. When Bob’s voice started to crack, Saaren just shoved a baby bottle in his mouth, filled with grapefruit juice. He did the same for Patrick and me and ordered us to drink. I hate that stuff. Bitter as hell. But I drank it down to the bottom of the bottle.
My eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead. The hunk next to me was already out like a light. I heard Saaren say something nasty to Smith before I passed out.
I wake up suddenly. My muscles ached, but not too badly, so I know I wasn’t out for long.
Saaren stood in front of us, his head wrapped in a tight, black leather hood. He was barechested, his skin smooth, except for the thick black hair in his pits. His black leather pants and knee-high boots were spit-polish shiny. On either side of me, my companions started to groan; I was the first one to wake up.
Behind Saaren, the men stood in small groups, speaking softly. Once in a while, someone would look at us and smile. I didn’t like the looks of it; the guys reminded me at a bunch of anxious vultures, the kind who can’t wait for an animal to die before they start eating him.
“Have a nice nap, kiddies?” Saaren asked.
Everyone laughed, but the place became quiet pretty soon; they knew Saaren had something to say. I could hear my own heart beat.
“We have two initiates we weren’t planning on,” Saaren smiled at Bob and me. “Vern and the others went back to the gym to pick up some…equipment he had forgotten. Equipment we will be using here tonight. Unlike Patrick, these two haven’t had the Initiation Rules explained to them.
“We will put you through tests of endurance, which I will be directing. At no time are you to say anything negative or derogatory. In other words. don’t tell us to stop or quit. We’ll just get nastier. Say something positive, such as ‘Yes, please, more, more’ and we might stop. Temporarily.
“If any or all of you go through Initiation without saying anything negative, you can have any tickle scene you want with anyone in this room. But say something negative and you’ll be a tickle slave for the entire weekend: a tickle slave for anyone who wants you.
“These will be tests of both will and endurance. We expect a positive attitude, but we also expect you to take it like a man. For each test, the initiate who starts laughing first will be a tickle slave for the weekend. So keep the right attitude and try to be tough and maybe, just maybe, you won’t wind up being everyone’s slave the whole time you’re here.
“So you see, it’s very simple. Even you two can understand it. Questions?”
Bob squirmed, “Do I…uh…HAVE to…like…do this?”
The room exploded with laughter. Saaren was the loudest. For minutes, all we could do was sit there, red-faced, while the whole room howled at our situation.
Finally, Saaren said, “Enough! Let’s begin now.”
He snapped his fingers. Three shaved slaves scurried apart from the crowd and kneeled in front of him. Saaren gave us a sidelong glance, his sharp eyes resting on me a little longer than was absolutely necessary. He turned his attentions back to his slaves.
“Bring out the shaving equipment. When you get back, string these Initiates up.”
While the slaves were off doing their duty, I shut my eyes. A plan began to unravel in my mind…
The slaves set up a small pine table with all sorts of brushes, lather and shaving gear. Three mean-looking Masters were throwing ropes over the rafters. Bob Morrell wasn’t looking like his usual cocky self now; his eyes bugged out of his head and his prize-winning body was drenched in sweat, he looked like he just took a shower. To my left, Patrick trembled a little and his breathing was shallow and nervous, but he held his head high, hardly even blinking as he watched our scene being set up.
Six masters untied us from the stocks. My legs felt like Jell-O and the way my fellow captors were wobbling along, I could tell they felt the same way. We were so wiped out, they didn’t even need to shackle us.
They strung us up so high, our toes barely touched the ground. The masters, two to each of us Initiates, lathered us up all over. They used old-fashioned barber’s brushes and the damned things tickled like hell. All three of us jumped and squealed like kids, but they’d just give it to us worse. As they started to shave us, we had no problem keeping still; those straight razors were scary. The masters were so good at this, they were done in minutes. Saaren hosed us off with cold water and everyone had a good laugh over the way we howled when that ice cold water hit.
All the hair from my eyes down was gone. The place was well heated, but I still shivered from the hosing we got. Patrick looked great; the shaving brought out all the rosiness of his taut skin. His pink nipples seemed to stand out a little more; pale green eyes gazing at the scene with resignation. And Bob, that sonofabitch, looked kind of innocent now that the fuzz around his pits and crotch was gone.
“Now,” Vern said. “Let’s play doctor!”
Three gurneys (you know, the things they use in hospitals to wheel patients around) were whisked out by six handsome slaves. Six leathered masters untied us Initiates and tied us to the gurneys, which were covered with army blankets (to protect us from the cold metal, I guess). Again, a tight leather blindfold covered my eyes. They wheeled us away, sometimes spinning the gurneys around. Several times, I’d feel a finger stroke the sole of my foot or a feather dancing on my ribs. But they pretty much left me alone.
We stopped. The straps were untied. The world seemed to swirl under my feet when I tried to sit up, but I felt a large firm hand on my back guiding me up and other hands on my shoulders and legs easing me into an upright position. I could hear Patrick and Bob being shuffled forward, too. A pair of strong hands grasped my shoulders hard so I knew when to stop.
The same hands pushed me back, firmly but gently. I was on some kind of couch, covered with…paper! A doctors examination table.
Finally, the blindfold came off. I was in the middle, again. We were in a huge room that looked like a doctor’s examination room, it even smelled like that disinfectant they use. Our feet were up in stirrups, tied in place with padded restraints and strips of rawhide and our arms were tied overhead by the wrists to shiny hooks set into the ceiling. There are other hooks up there. I don’t want to think how they might use them later on. The head rests are set high, so I have a pretty good view of what’s going on.
Everybody now wore those sickly green hospital get-ups you see at Kaiser, complete with facial masks. Slaves and masters are dressed alike here, except slaves are barefoot. Saaren is standing at my feet, his friends are all gathered behind and along side of him as if they were waiting for him to give a speech. Everybody, including Saaren, had one hand behind him. What the hell could they be hiding?
“I trust you three are comfortable?” Saaren said. His friends laugh. I could feel every muscle in my body quiver; I sure got myself into a mess this time. Vern Smith stood Saaren’s side, those intense eyes of his just boring into me. But Saaren liked me; he looked at me longer than any of the others. Maybe, just maybe, I can turn this to my advantage. Somehow…
“Now, gentlemen, we will demonstrate one of the wonders of modern technology. Something I’ve just come up with.” Saaren says, suddenly whipping up the hand he had behind him.
The thing he’s got in his hand looked like a cross between an electric shaver and a dentist drill. Shiny, metallic, and big enough to fit in your palm, it came to a rounded point and in that point there’s a little…feather. Saaren pushed the white button in the center the device whirrs and that damned feather began to vibrate like crazy. Saaren kept pressing the button; the feather vibrated faster and the sound jumps to a high pitch.
Saaren turned to his friends.
“Let’s start. We’ll see which one of these guys breaks first,” Saaren said.
They swarmed around us, but the fuckers started slow. First I felt a vibrating feather in my left pit. I jerked up. Then a feather on my right foot. Another in my belly button. There wasn’t a hair on my body so I felt everything ten times worse than I usually would. I’ve never felt so NAKED. Patrick sounded ready to explode and Bob is even louder, tears flying from his face like rain hitting a fan; the scene back at the gym was quiet in comparison. I clenched my teeth together so tight I thought my jaw would crack. I was determined to stay in control even though my whole body just wanted to LAUGH!
“STOP” Bob screamed. “I’ll do anything! Hahahahahahaha! I’ll suck all your dicks! Hahahahaha! Let you FUCK ME! JUST STOP! HAHAHAHA!”
I looked over. I could barely see Patrick through all the guys, but I could tell that three of them stood at each of his big jerking feet, working over the soles and toes pretty good. Patrick was laughing, crying and begging like a little boy.
They were working me over pretty good, too. One guy used just his bare hands to dig into my ribs. There was one guy at each of my feet, holding my toes back and giving my soles a workout. My voice got dry, so they let up on me a few seconds while someone held a glass of water with a straw up to my lips. I slurped it down fast. Just as I let my head down, they started to work an me again.
Suddenly, Patrick YELLED. I looked over. There was a guy at each of Patrick’s feet, jabbing those electric feathers in-between his toes. And somebody else holding up his fat cock, feathering his meat around the head while somebody else was working just behind his bouncing nuts. Tears were pouring out of his eyes, his face was red as a beet.
“NO! STOP! AAAMPAGHHHHHH! I’M GONNA COME! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHM! NOOOOOOOOO! AAAAARGOOSSHHHHHHHHHHH!” Patrick screamed. And came like a gusher. He almost hit the damn ceiling!
But they kept right on going. Patrick’s face contorted, his eyes wide and crazed. Bob was laughing his head off. Hot tears poured out of my eyes and I bit my tongue hard to keep from cracking. Some guy was even goosing my knees! I felt soft rope around the head of my cock. Vern Smith looped it around a couple of times and tied the end of the rope it to a hook on the ceiling. My vision is blurred, but I could see the wicked look on Smith’s face as he whipped out the gray silk hanky from his back pocket. One of the slaves tied my balls up with a rawhide strip so that they were nice and separate.
Holding the silk hanky at both ends, like a two-sided handsaw, Smith drew it back and forth over the head of my cock. The same slave who tied my balls began tickling them with a stiff feather. All this plus my feet were still getting a pretty mean workout along with the rest of me. The silk teased my cock just enough to get me really hot, but not let me come. I was really climbing the wails now. A quick glance over at Bob and I saw that he was getting the same treatment.
It sure must’ve been a sight; three hot, naked bodybuilders getting driven out of their minds for anybody who cared to watch, or even participate. Saaren didn’t take his eyes off us for one minute. Our eyes met for a couple of seconds. The bulge in his crotch sure got bigger.
“Aaaaaaaaaagghh! Hahahahahahahahaha! OOOOhhhh SHIIIT! AAAGGHHH,” Bob bellowed, huge, thick wads of come poured out of his thick tool, covering his shaved cock and balls. Saaren waved his big hand over his head and everybody stopped what they were doing.
“Both of you,” he says, pointing to Patrick and Bob. “Are tickle slaves for the weekend.”
He ordered the guys around me to stop. They did and suddenly I just bellowed a laugh that lasted a couple of minutes. My whole body tingled.
Saaren strolled over to me, smiling, “You’re a TOUGH bottom. As a reward, you’ll be free to come and go as you like. You can play as a top or as a bottom. Or both. We encourage guys to come up with their own game plans.”
The slaves untied me gingerly, with great respect. Saaren leads everyone out of the “examination room” back into the central part of the Barn. Patrick and Bob had to be carried in like weak pups. Still naked, I turned and looked Saaren straight in the eye, knowing that he’s the type who’d like that.
“I’d like to challenge somebody to a wrestling match.” I said.
Saaren laughed.
“Fine,” he said. “What are the stakes?”
“One year’s worth of tickle servitude.”
“The loser is the tickle slave to the winner for a year’? Great! Whose the lucky man?”
“Vern Smith,” I announced.
A Murmur swept the crowd like a tidal wave. Vern Smith looked fit to be tied, no pun intended. Saaren had a wicked gleam in his eye.
“You realize that Vern is my main man. If he wins, he’s likely to turn you over to me once in a while.”
“I know,” I said.
“Vern will accept the challenge, of course,” Saaren said, not so much as glancing in Smith’s direction. “Let the games begin!”
A cheer thundered throughout the barn. Guys stomp their feet and clap so hard, I thought the roof would cave in. Much to my surprise, Saaren orders the slaves to clear a space in the middle of the barn and throw down a wrestling mat. I didn’t expect anything this elaborate, they must’ve had wrestling matches here before. I overhear somebody say something about the Mad Tickler, that famous (or maybe infamous) wrestler who wins all his matches by tickling his opponents into submission. Was he part of this crowd? Maybe he trained here. I asked one of the slaves who untied me and he told me the whole story. I tuck the info away in the back of my head.
Three slaves dress me up in wrestling gear, including a helmet. My wrestling suit is red, Vern’s is black. Each of us enters the arena. When we got to the center, we just faced each other. Smith had a little more muscle and he was a shade taller, but I was younger and quicker. Saaren stood between us, acting as referee, of course. He even had a whistle. It’s to be a no-holds barred match, though we’ll start it college style. Saaren tossed a coin to see who’d be top or bottom. I called heads. Tails came up.
I knelt on the mat. As Smith put his arm around my waist, he said. “You’re going to be a good little slave.”
I turn around and smiled, “Kiss my ass.”
Saaren blew the whistle. Instantly, Smith tried to use his own body weight to shove me down while his left hand digs into me. His fingertips felt like electric daggers. I clenched my teeth to keep from laughing and I pulled away real fast. When I do that, Smith catches hold of my seat and manages to rip it half way down. He’s stood there, smirking like the smug son-of-a-bitch he is, while everybody laughed; It was time to make my move. In a flash, I leaned my head down, ran, and butt my head right into Vern’s middle.
“Aaaaaawwwwppphhhhh!”, then Smith fell on his hairy ass. I wasted no time landing right on top of that sucker. Forcing his arms out to either side of him, I pinned his wrists to the mat. He started to yell and curse, but had him down pretty solid; he wasn’t going anyplace. The hot odor of his sweaty pits practically grabbed my nose, so I shoved my tongue into his right pit and had a taste.
Smith exploded as I snaked my way around his hairy pit. He’s a salty fucker and the thick, black pit hair almost made me choke. Laughter pounds into my ears as I kept right on licking and I get so spaced out on what I was doing that was not at all ready for what happens next.
Let’s face it, even I need a rest once in a while. The second I stopped licking Smith’s pit, he took a huge breath, arched his back and threw me across the mat like a damn toy. He wasted no time landing right an top of me. He was snarling and grinding his teeth, that’s how mad he was. He twisted me like a pretzel, and I wound up flat on my abs, bowing my legs behind me ’til my heels are about to touch my shoulder, Vern starts to remove my Nikes.
“I’m gonna tickle the shit out of your feet, wimp.” Smith said. “And there’s nothing you can do about it!”
I grunted and strained, tears stinging my eyes. The air hit my right foot as Smith took off the stinking sock. Everybody cheered.
“NO,” I croaked. “N…no!”
Smith yanked off my left sock and my toes wiggled; I couldn’t help it. Tenderly, the old bodybuilder started kissing one of my insteps. It feels great; I thought, maybe he’s not going to tickle me after all; maybe he just wants to make out with my bare feet, maybe jack off while he does it. I felt an electric shock as he brushed my sole with his bristly moustache. I giggled like a kid and that fuckface stepped up the action.
“Oh, God! Stop! Stoopppp! Please! AAAAAAAW Hahahahahahaha! Don’t!”
I laughed so loud, I almost drowned out the sounds of everybody else. Laughing at my humiliation. Smith sucked on my toes and stroked my soles while I pounded my fists on the mat and yelled my head off! I had never felt this way. It drove me nuts, made me feel like an animal; no thoughts, just crazy, uncontrollable feelings. And on top of all this, I got hard. Deep down, I wanted Smith to strip me naked, tie me up and let everybody play with my body. But he had plans.
Smith’s on the small of my back and I was bucking like a bronco; I surprised myself with my own energy. I finally got into a good position and I grabbed Smith’s nuts. While he bellowed like a bull, I heaved him off me. In no time at all, I had Smith in the same position he had ME, only was not going to get into a position where he could get at my family jewels.
Beads of sweat popped up from the back of his neck when I started untying his shoe laces. He squirmed, grunted, and gave me the worse cussing out since I was in the Marines. I threw off his size fifteen’s and whipped off his sweaty socks. His feet are as smooth as a baby’s ass and HUGE! Sitting on the small of his back, I secured his ankles together and wasted no time tickling those suckers with my fingers.
“Shit! Oh no! Hahahahahahahahahahaha! God no! Nooooooo! Agghhhhhhhhhh! Hahahahahahahahaha!”
Smith tried to grab me with his hands, but was just not flexible enough to do it.
“Give up, sucker,” I said. “Give up or I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
“Fuck you!”
So I just kept right on tickling, only now I worked on his left foot with my tongue while my hand made a little journey. Even guys who don’t think they’re ticklish are super-sensitive right behind the balls. I started to stroke him gently, real gently.
“Hey! Stop! STOP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Smith got totally hysterical, squirming his big, muscular hips and pounding his fists into the mat.
“All right! Hahahahahaha! I GIVE UP! AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEE! OOOOOOHHHHHHHFHHH! AAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Right then and there, Smith passed out on me. The room was dead silent at first. Saaren strutted over to us and bent over, grasping Smith’s throat. The powerful man let out a whoop and grabbed my wrist. Everyone clapped; I had never heard so much applause.
“You won, fair and square,” Saaren whispered. “You’re body’s mine. In private. You’re my new main man. Don’t worry; I’ve never lost one. Yet.” Saaren snapped his fingers. A hunky blue-eyed slave ran up to him and handed him a black-leather dog collar covered with the most wicked looking chrome spikes I had ever seen. Saaren pulled that thing tightly, but not TOO tightly…around my sweaty throat.
“Come along, my man,” Saaren said, as if I have a choice. Saaren attached the leash and lead me to the door. Meanwhile, Smith, still groggy, was quickly undressed by three slaves. Somebody wheeled in some kind of black massage table covered with straps. I heard people whoop and holler. Then Smith begging and pleading.
“He’s getting shaved from head to foot. In preparation for being a weekend slave for everyone here. That’s his reward for losing,” Saaren said. “And after that…one year’s tickle servitude to you.”
I smiled back.
That was about six months ago. Turns out Vern Smith was not really the owner of the gym, Saaren was. The gym was in Smith’s name as a sign of respect for being one of most titled bodybuilders way back in the Seventies. I’m the acting manager of Smith’s Gym now. Vern Smith is still recovering from his nervous breakdown. Saaren’s a generous guy; he pays a shrink to come out to the farm once a week to treat Smith for his “delusions of persecution”; seems he thinks EVERYBODY’S out to tickle him. Saaren, the guys in The Order of the Feather, and even I have tried to convince him otherwise, but it hasn’t worked yet. Patrick’s my assistant manager (and my lover). Bob Morrell still works out here, but he’s a lot easier to get along with. His bare foot workouts don’t bug me anymore. In fact, Patrick and I are usually barefoot, too, when we’re at work, and even most of the time when we’re not. We’ve started a trend; a lot of the guys here have followed our example. We’ve gotten Bob to kind of “test” the guys who look promising, then either me or Patrick invite them to stay after hours for special instruction. Saaren’s taken a keen interest in our new program, he’s a very encouraging kind of guy, and has told Patrick and I that we could bring a bunch of guys up to the farm for an “intensive” sometime. Saaren also said that Vern has started to come out of his shell now that he knows that I’m so committed to my work. When he recovers more fully, his year of tickle servitude will officially begin.
Alfonso
Posted on 8 July 2014 | 5:00 pm
A health club worker tricks an arrogant but ticklish bodybuilder into a very vulnerable position to teach the gorgeous jock a lesson he’ll never forget!
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The Barefoot Bodybuilder
by Alfonso
Series: The Barefoot Bodybuilder
Smith’s Gym is usually pretty busy. Bodybuilders of all sizes and ages crowd its famous floors from six in the morning ’til we close at ten at night. But tonight is Sunday and the place is almost deserted. Even Vern Smith, the owner, is out on some errand. I’m just sitting behind the desk, reading a copy of “Muscle Mag” and getting a hard-on.
There are only three guys on the floor. Joe Cianelli, still fresh from his victory of winning the Amateur Mr. America, lays on a low bench doing his presses, while his lover Pete Patowski (who placed second in the same contest) is spotting him. Joe wears enough body oil to lube up a hundred dicks, but he’s got enough class to put a towel under him to keep grease off the bench. At about fifteen minutes until closing, I know that those two will be in the showers; they know that I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to. Not like that jerk, Bob Morrell.
Bob Morrell struts around here like he owns the place. He’s six foot one, blonde, blue eyed, with a body that could stop traffic five blocks away. He just turned pro this year, and ever since he started training for Mr. Universe you’d think he lives here. He’s on a double split system; he comes in around lunch time, then again later in the evening. And he ALWAYS takes his sweet time. After his evening workout, he goes to the steam room, then takes a nice relaxing shower, not getting out of here ’til close to eleven.
Vern Smith, the owner, won’t let me say anything to him. Smith thinks Bob gives the place class. He won’t allow me to mention anything to Bob about his running around barefoot, which is clearly against the rules; foot sweat corrodes the carpets. Vern Smith wants him to stay here and attract more clients, as if we needed more.
I’ve told Smith how obnoxious the guy is, but Smith would just smile and say, “Don’t let it bother you. People like him always get their comeuppance.”
But I’ve got plans for Bob Morrell. I’m about to give him an evening he’ll never forget.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Joe and Pete stroll on back to the locker room. Bob just finished his calf raises. Wearing red shorts and no shoes. He’s been working out pretty hard tonight, but the arrogant fuck has barely worked up a sweat; he doesn’t want to soil up his reputation as some kind of Greek god. The way he acts, you’d think he’s above human feeling. But I found out different. One of his ex-tricks, a guy I met at a leather bar the other night, gave me the low-down on Bob Morrell and his secret weakness, something that drives him crazy and makes him a slave of whoever finds out about it.
“How ’bout giving me those inversion boots, Sport?” Bob asks, as if talking to some kind of amateur. It’s been years since I’ve bothered to compete, but I’ll put my bod against his any day! He’s got a smug little grin on his face. Silently, I hand him the inversion boots, which were right behind me, and pretend to get back to my reading.
Bob struts over to the iron braces he had set up high on the east wall for pull-ups and inversion exercises. In no time he has those grey padded boots with the stainless steel braces strapped on to his salon tanned ankles. He leaps on to the overhead bar and flips himself over with catlike agility. Hands folded behind his bleached blonde head, he begins his upside down crunches, abs rippling like an accordion. Time to make my move.
“Hey, Bob!” I yell, trying not to laugh.
He stops, no doubt stunned that a mere gym instructor would dare to speak to His Majesty.
“Yeah.”
“Smith showed me a new exercise with those. Works the abs ten times better than what you’re doing.”
“Oh, yeah!” he exclaims, this time with real interest.
“Smith thinks you’ll make Mr. Olympia some day”, I say, really laying it on, “And so do I.” I knew he’d like that, the stuck-up son-of-a-bitch.
“Yeah?” he says, just hanging there. Then, suddenly, a suspicious look grows on his stupid face. “How come he never told me?”
“He’s going to. He just doesn’t give special attention to just anybody, you know.” I amble toward the hunk, my left hand holding a pair of props for my upcoming prank.
I continue to talk, not wanting the dummy to figure out what I’m up to. “Why don’t you just stretch out your arms down to the floor?”
He obeys. Just like that. His arms are magnificent, a good twenty inches around the biceps with thick brown hair growing at the pits. I get a pair of hundred pound dumbbells and place one near each of his arms. I attach them to his arms with my toys, the heavy-duty handcuffs I’m carrying. He raises his brows as he sees them.
“These are special. Smith just bought them. They’re made to go with the inversion boots.” God, I can be a cool liar when I’m motivated!
“Oh.” he says.
Just from that “oh”, I can tell that he’s starting to get nervous.
“Now”, I say, “try doing those crunches.”
He tries. His huge, sculpted chest tightens, veins popping up all over his arms like roots. Try as he does, he can’t get far. Just like I planned.
“Come on, Bob, you can do it!”
He tries again, with all his might, making even less progress this time. Finally, he gives up, chest heaving like bellows.
“Looks like I’m just going to have to give you some help.” I sigh. Casually, I stroll behind him and drop down to my knees. Before he knows what’s happening, I sink my two index fingers into his armpits.
He lets out a yell like a man possessed.
“Hey!” he screams. “Cut that out!”
“I’m just trying to help you lift up.” I say, innocently, as I continue.
Christ, does he squirm! He curses me to high hell, but I just keep right on going. Teeth clenched, he fights me with every bit of strength. But it’s no use. I have him and he knows it. His curses turn to pleas as he starts to giggle. I just laugh and continue, using all my fingers now and moving up to his ribs. He really starts to buck and laugh, his face getting redder by the second.
“Stop! AAAAAAAAAAAAAgghhhhhhhh! Please! Oh my God! Hahahahahahahahahaha!I can’t take it! Shit! Oh noooooooo! Aghhhhhhhhhh!” His voice turns high pitched, like a teenage boy’s. My cock is hard as a rock now, fighting its way through the jock under my gym shorts. But I’m not ready to unleash it. Not yet.
“I’m not letting you go ’til you can do one crunch.” I say. “How the hell do you expect to make the Olympia unless you can do an inversion crunch with weights on each arm? I’ll just have to help you some more.” With that, I pull his red shorts up to his knees. His big, muscular ass is already starting to twitch beneath the sweaty jock strap. His cock is almost as hard as mine, and it looks almost as big, maybe nine inches.
I trace the outline of his ass with my finger. That hard butt of his practically dances. He holds his mouth tight to try and hold back the laughter. I don’t know why he bothers; he’s so sensitive that he bursts out laughing even before I start to get real serious.
“No more! Not again! Hahahahahahahahahaha! Please! EEEEeeeeee! Noooooo! You’re driving me crazy! Aaaiiiiiieeeeeee! Stop! I’ll do anything, man! Stop! Hahahahahahahah….”
“Anything?” I ask.
Before he even has a chance to reply, I pull down my shorts and jock and whip out my cock. I march around to face him. I shove myself into his hot mouth; he knows better than to try to resist. I have to bend my knees a little, but, what the hell, I’m getting the best blowjob I’ve had in a long time. His mouth is hot and wet. He’s slow at first, but I soon fix that by teasing his ass with my fingertips. Every time he tries to slow down, I speed up my fingers. He catches on quickly, and he takes my throbbing tool all the way up to his throat. His giggling excites my dick, so I decide to pull up his jockstrap and have some more fun.
He must’ve had that thing on for days. It’s pungent and stiff as I pull it up to join his shorts. His meat is hard, long and thick. But first I want to play with his balls.
Just the slightest touch from my finger causes his whole body to shake with laughter. I’ve found a gold mine of sensation. I’m getting close to cumming, too close. I want to prolong this as much as possible, so I pull out of the hottest mouth I’ve ever had. My dick is all slick and wet and I give his laughing face a slap with it, just to remind him who’s boss.
“Hahahahah…you gotta stop, man! Not my balls! Hahahahahaha! Noooooooo! I can’t take it! Not my balls! Not my balls! Hahahahahahaha!”
“Not your balls? Okay, buddy, tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to give you a break.” With that, I back away, pulling my shorts up. I leave his sweaty, drenched body and head for the supply room.
I find what I want in no time. When I get back, his eyes widen in horror as he sees what I have in my hot little hands.
A feather duster. Just a plain old feather duster with grey and black feathers. I grin wickedly.
“Wha…whatcha gonna do with that, man?” he asks, so scared he can barely get the words out.
I just smile and pull out one of the longest feathers, dropping the duster to the floor. I bring the tip of the feather up to his left foot, which is already twitching. Starting at the top of the foot, next to his third toe, I slowly and delicately drag the tip of the feather down to the heel. He doesn’t just laugh; he screams! I’m in hog heaven. I make that feather dance all around, first one naked foot, then the other. He’s laughing so hard, his huge chest spasming from not being able to get a good breath, and his face beet red from hanging upside down, that he can’t even plead to stop. So I decide to let up just a little. For now. After all, even I need a rest.
He just hangs there, drenched in sweat, his fat cock sticking straight out. He gulps air hungrily. I look at my prize, chuckling to myself when I think about all the fun I’m still going to have.
“Well, what’s going on here?”
I spin around, startled as hell. There is Vern Smith, flanked by Joe Cianelli and Pete Patowski, all with strange grins on their faces. I feel the blood drain from my face. They’re all dressed alike, leather from head to foot, except for Pete, who wears a spiked slave collar and no shoes.
“I…uh…”
“Mr. Smith!” yells Bob Morell, “This fuckface tricked me into….”, then launches into the whole story, in detail.
My heart sinks. Not only am I going to get fired, but no other gym in town will hire me once word gets around. When Bob finishes, Vern orders Joe and Pete to help Bob down. I unlock the handcuffs.
“You!” Vern exclaims, hands on hips, a scowl on his craggy face. He is a mountain of a man, tall and wide. His black eyes bore right into me. I can’t say a word.
“You. You’re one of us!”
“Huh?” I gasp.
Bob Morrell, flanked by the two lovers, starts to fly into a rage. He tries to swagger over to Smith, but trips on his shorts. He’s forgotten to pull them up, the dumb shit.
“Get him!” yells Smith.
Joe and Pete are on the future Mr. Universe like a pair of wolves. With lightning speed they have him manacled and cuffed, his shorts and filthy jock stripped away. He yells and fights, but the other two are too much for him.
“We’re part of a club called ‘The Order of the Feather’”, Smith explains. “We’re into torture-tickling. Looks to me like we have more in common than a serious interest in bodybuilding.”
He gives me a wink and a slap on the back.
My mouth moves, but no words will actually come out. Smith can tell I’m having a hard time taking all of this in, so he takes me aside and tells me how he got the idea for The Order and all. Meanwhile, Joe and Pete are driving Bob into hysterics, giving his balls a real workout.
“You know”, Smith says, “I always knew you were special. But what you did today was a little out of line. This IS my gym.”
“Hey, I’m really sorry!” I stammer. What the hell, I really am. Smith is always really good to me and pays better than any other gym owner in town. “But, I didn’t damage anything. I was just having a little fun.”
“I know”, Smith says, smiling, “But I am going to have to make your initiation a bit rougher than most.”
“Initiation?” I gulp. I feel my cock start to twitch.
“EVERYBODY has to go through initiation. Even I went through it, and I started the damn club. But don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands!” He laughs and strokes my ribs with the tips of his fingers. I giggle and jump, but stay right where I am.
Watching the two lovers playing with Bob’s feet, his screams for mercy filling the gym like a weird chant, I know I am in for a long night.
Smith pulls my arms back and cuffs them. His tongue dances on the nape of my neck, and I giggle and squirm helplessly.
“You’re coming with me to the office!” Smith growls. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”
He pushes me roughly. I look over my shoulder and saw Joe binding the balls of his lover and Bob together with black leather straps. The two captives are in a sixty-nine position, licking each other’s feet and laughing uncontrollably.
“Look ahead, fucker.” Smith wrenches my head forward. I feel his hand at my crotch. He pulls my cock out and lets it point ahead of us. I gasp as he toys with my balls.
“This is just the beginning!” he snarls.
Alfonso
Posted on 5 July 2014 | 5:00 pm
Arrogant straight dude Ryan’s humiliation continues this time with the help of his arch rival in a story that includes bondage, spanking, forced shaving and straight boy ass fucking.
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Craigslist Straight Dude Tricked/Jackson – Part 2
by Richard
Series: Craigslist Straight Dude Tricked
PROLOGUE TO PART TWO
Over the next week, Ryan and Amber researched Jackson on the Internet (having easily obtained his full name and identity while he was blindfolded) and learned that he was, indeed, a bigshot executive/owner a major conglomerate. Even more interesting was the fact that they learned through the Internet that the CEO and head of Jackson’s biggest corporate rival was one Kurt Von Bruder, 35, an immensely powerful young corporate titan who was rumored to be maneuvering (apparently not too successfully to date) toward acquiring or overtaking Jackson’s conglomerate, always in competition with but often being out-savvied by the wily Jackson. They apparently were social rivals as well, mingling in the same circles of the ultra-rich and well-connected and competing in various sporting events, polo, golf and tennis among them. Both were listed as founding members of the Defense of Traditional Marriage League, the homophobic organization devoted to preventing same-sex marriage. (Amber and Ryan gave snorts of disgust at this revelation). Ryan and Amber further exchanged glances as they checked out a photo of Von Bruder at a polo match, the athletic, close-cropped blond stud resplendent in his tight white jodhpurs and polo gear astride a galloping stallion.
Ryan was amazed at how easy it was to contact Von Bruder himself when he provided selected screen shots of Jackson depicted in various kinky sex play/bondage situations, Von Bruder taking the bait immediately and expressing interest in buying all Ryan had at an astronomical price. When Von Bruder learned of the subterfuge that had been successfully used on Jackson and that Jackson had also unwittingly apparently been depicted receiving sexual services from another man, and especially when he learned what Ryan had planned for their second session, Von Bruder’s devious wheels began turning in his head how these “gay” and “kinky” pictures and videos could be used to blackmail Jackson and literally bring him to his knees to capitulate to whatever business advantage Von Bruder could dictate. It was a gold mine! And this gay dude Ryan could obviously be bought off cheap to obtain the tapes.
Von Bruder insisted not only on being present himself for the second session accompanied by his Lebanese bodyguard Ahmed Hakim to ensure that his own muscle could be used to help Ryan re-position Jackson without his getting free, but also helped purchase additional S & M items Ryan suggested to assist the session.
Prior to the session Von Bruder and his bodyguard were given a tour of the apartment to work out details. Von Bruder introduced his Lebanese bodyguard, Ahmed Hakim, 29, noting that Ahmed had been trained by an elite intelligence group and had been bodyguard to numerous members of the wealthy elite of many countries. Both Von Bruder and Ahmed appeared in finely tailored suits and ties, (though Von Bruder’s suit was clearly the more expensive), Ahmed darkly handsome behind designer sunglasses he wore even indoors. Nevertheless, Von Bruder treated his hunky young Lebanese bodyguard like a servant, evidently of the belief that Ahmed’s swarthy good looks made him of a lower scale than Von Bruder’s proud Teutonic roots. Von Bruder brusquely informed Ahmed what his expected tasks would be in manipulating Jackson into various humiliating positions, ordering him around like he was a schoolboy. Ryan noted Ahmed clearly loathed his boss, a fact apparently completely lost on Von Bruder.
While Von Bruder imperiously examined the area where Jackson would be receiving his “session” Ryan had a chance to converse with Ahmed privately in another room, drawing him out about the way Von Bruder treated him. Ryan took a huge risk in proposing that he and Ahmed strike a deal whereby Ahmed could share in Von Bruder’s largesse in obtaining the tapes and also secretly conspire to subject Von Bruder to some embarrassing treatment himself, all also caught on film, the better for both Ryan and Ahmed to blackmail the pompous Von Bruder himself. To Ryan’s relief, Ahmed cracked a sadistic smile at such a proposition, clearly calculating how it would mean a windfall for him and a chance to see Von Bruder get his comeuppance as well.
PART 2 BEGINS
One week later, Jackson arrived at Amber’s apartment, Armani-suited from head to toe.
Amber complimented him on his natty good looks, Jackson eating up the praise.
“So has my big, bad, naughty boy been bad this week? Yelled at the secretaries? Fired people right and left? You know bad boys have to punished!”
“You bet your ass I’ve been a ‘bad boy’, bitch! Yelled my head off, secretaries in tears, the whole shebang- so what’cha gonna do about it, huh?” queried Jackson. “You gonna try to beat my ass?” smirking, turned on by the thought of more kinky sex play, which he had been anticipating all week, not allowing himself to cum all week so he could bang Amber over and over all night long.
Amber then led Jackson to her bedroom where Ryan and Amber had installed a ceiling bracket just the right height so that Jackson could be suspended by his wrists from it.
Amber sat in a chair while she instructed Jackson “ooo, babe, why don’t we start by your removing that form-fitting designer dress shirt and tie, so I can get a look at that handsome muscular chest again!”
Flattered, winking at Amber, Jackson slowly complied, unbuttoning his designer dress shirt button by button to slowly reveal his suntanned hairy chest, all the more buffed up due to his frequent gym visits during the week to tone his magnificent body for Amber’s appreciation, music to his egotistical ears. Jackson then heaved the shirt off of his broad, suntanned shoulders and tossed it on the ground along with his silk necktie.
“Ooo babe! Look at how buff you are, my big, strong man!” cooed Amber as she approached Jackson, scooping up his silk Armani necktie. “Ohhh, stud , now I’m gonna tie you with your necktie to that bracket up there, the better to view those manly, hairy armpits. Sound like fun?”
Jackson’s cock lurched in his Armani shorts with anticipation of more kinky delights, gamely raising his buffed-up, suntanned arms revealing his Bulgari and musk-scented hairy pits as he sexily winked again and smiled broadly as he allowed Amber to tie him with his own necktie to the ceiling bracket so that Jackson was on his “tippy-toes” barely touching the floor as he hung suspended from the ceiling, his arms pulled high above his handsome head, instantly throwing a boner in his pants at the familiar, sexy feel of being under restraint by a beautiful, “model-quality” woman., loving the kinky sex game, Jackson pulling in his bonds, the better to show off his rippling, suntanned musculature.
Amber then fitted Jackson carefully with the blindfold, leaving him in darkness, anticipating.
Ryan then approached the suspended Jackson, once again taking the bound man’s handsome head and French-kissing the blindfolded, hunky hetero who cluelessly but eagerly shared his hot tongue with him as Ryan tweaked and teased Jackson’s manly nips into full erection, causing Jackson to shamelessly moan with lust, whereupon Ryan lowered his sensuous taster over Jackson’s suntanned throat before plunging it into the divide of the hairy cleft of the hetero hunk’s chiseled chest inhaling and lapping up his eager captive’s Bulgari-scented sweat. Ryan then plunged headlong into Jackson’s totally exposed hairy armpits one by one, feasting away on their steamy, manly scent as Jackson shrieked in ticklish surprise as Ryan’s slick and sinuous tongue made contact with the depths of the stud’s manly pits, the unexpected stimulation adding an erotic charge to the already-aroused executive.
Ryan then licked his way down, down over each of Jackson’s erect nips before descending further to his innie navel as Jackson arched his body and squealed with whorish delight, whereupon Ryan descended even further to inhale the scent of Jackson’s steamy jungle of dark pubes before teasing and then going down on Jackson’s now rock-hard cock, as Jackson moaned with delight, Ryan devilishly tickling the stud’s hairy balls as he did so, driving Jackson up the wall with lust. “Ohh yeah, Amber-baby, do me you fuckin’ whore!” encouraged Jackson, totally unaware that it was Ryan, and not Amber, who was doing the honors.
Ryan then approached the suspended Jackson from behind, slapping “bad boy” Jackson on the ass as Jackson went “ohhh, yeahh, babe, spank my bad boy ass! Harder! Harder!” as Ryan obliged, raising his arm high and swatting Jackson’s hard on his vulnerable white assglobes in total contrast to the rest of his sun-bronzed muscular body, the deserving executive getting the punishment he deserved for his maltreatment of his employees. If only the “girls” in the office could see their Lord and Master now, thought Ryan (deciding they probably would, eventually, when the tapes got out on the Internet!)
Soon Jackson’s ass was hot pink to red with Ryan’s handprints as Jackson’s cock became all the harder, excited by this kinky play. Ryan then spread the cheeks of Jackson’s hunky ass apart revealing his hairy asscrack and his tiny virgin aperture which winked at the cameras.
Ryan then suddenly plunged his taster along Jackson’s exposed crack as he moaned with lust and went “Yeahhh toss my salad, you bitch! You like that hot ass, huh!?” Jackson rearing his ass back onto Ryan’s eager tongue as Jackson moaned with lust and egged “Amber” on to ever-more-degrading delights. Jackson mewled with lust as he felt Ryan finally reach his tight, butch hole, his tongue teasing and stimulating the bound executive’s hot virgin hole as Jackson yelped with desire.
Ryan then abruptly stopped, much to Jackson’s surprise.
“Now for some more fun!” announced Amber from nearby.
A compliant, blindfolded, Jackson was then temporarily released from his suspension bondage from the ceiling and led over to the bed where he lay on his back, submissively allowing “Amber” to bind his wrists and ankles to the bedposts, Jackson clearly excited by his inescapable bondage as he tested the limits of his bonds and found them inescapable, his manhood swelling all the more with excitement and anticipation.
“I have a little surprise for you, Jackson baby” announced Amber once he was secured.
“What, bitch? What kinky delights do you have in store for me this time?” queried Jackson, intrigued.
“Only THIS!” announced Amber as she suddenly removed Jackson’s blindfold whereupon a flabbergasted Jackson saw that there were now others in the room with Amber, all male. There was that gay roommate of Amber’s sneering and smiling knowingly, and what the fuck? Kurt Von Bruder and his fuckin’ Lebanese bodyguard- all leering at his bound, naked bod.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE??!!” demanded Jackson “WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE GUYS DOING HERE!? GET THEM THE HELL OUTTA HERE!!!” ordered Jackson.
“Well, Jackson dear, I’m afraid that all of the contact with your body has always been by Ryan here, not l’il ol’ me, AND it’s all been caught on tape, imagine!? And now you get to have fun with Ryan with full knowledge of what’s going on. Hmmm wonder if your ‘little friend’ down there will mind?” pointing at Jackson’s still throbbing male member.
‘GET THESE FUCKERS THE HELL OUTTA HERE! AND LET ME GO!!! KEEP THAT FAG AWAY FROM ME!! ON TAPE!!? I’M FUCKIN GONNA KILL ALL OF YOU!!!” fumed Jackson, thrashing in his bonds futilely as his audience laughed uproariously at him, pointing at his predicament.
To Jackson’s horror, Ryan began stripping out of his tee shirt and jeans until the sexy gay twenty-something was completely naked as well, his hard cock popping out of his pants before the naked Ryan hopped up on the bed and pounced naked right on top of the fuming Jackson, frottaging Ryan’s own hard-on against Jackson’s own rampant boner. Jackson was horrified that his traitorous prick had not gone down at all and, worse, that the feel of another man’s hard-on against his own actually felt quite pleasant and arousing, even more so when Ryan began tonguing and teasing Jackson’s nips.
“Cut that out! Get offa me you fag! Stop fuckin’ touching me there! Nooooo!!! STOPPPPPP!!!” commanded Jackson, but Ryan only felt Jackson’s boner swell and drip against his own, imagining how embarrassing it was for the hetero stud to realize he was getting off on being done by another guy. Worse, Von Bruder and his bodyguard were audibly and visibly giggling at Jackson the entire time!
Ryan continued to tongue-bathe his bound captive straight stud’s hunky body as Jackson protested to no avail, Ryan tonguing his pits, nips, cock, balls and ass and repeatedly bringing Jackson to the peak of a climax only to back off and leave the stud begging and frustrated.
Ryan then shoved his own hard cock into Jackson’s horrified face, and as his movement was restricted by his bondage, and since his mouth had dropped open in surprise and outrage, had little choice but to suck it when it had been shoved into his open mouth, as Jackson comically gurgled and sucked, his eyes bugging open in horror.
Ryan soon forced Jackson to lick Ryan’s balls, asscrack and asshole as Von Bruder and his bodyguard clapped and hooted offstage.
Later, with the help of a ski-masked Von Bruder (who did not want to be recognized on the blackmail tape) and the help of his bodyguard, Ryan was able to free Jackson from the bed and drag him over and onto the leather-padded sawhorse that Von Bruder had purchased at an S & M store for the occasion, whereupon Jackson found himself bound on all fours over the sawhorse with his bare ass high in the air, as if begging to be fucked up the ass.
Ryan then forced Jackson to suck Ryan’s cock some more before going behind the bound Jackson and suddenly ramming his rampant dick up Jackson’s virgin ass as he howled in pain to be followed by moans of lust as Ryan hit the hetero stud’s prostate. Ryan fucked the stud’s virgin ass for several minutes using Jackson’s own silk necktie around Jackson’s neck to ride him like a bucking bronco until Ryan could hold back no longer and sprayed his load all over Jackson’s bound muscular ass and suntanned back, as Von Bruder and his bodyguard hooted and clapped.
For the finale, Jackson was placed bound on his back on the sawhorse with his legs pulled back in the air, and while Ryan dildoed his ass and jerked the dude’s cock Jackson soon blew his own load all over himself and into his own face, Ryan scooping it up and making him eat it.
Before Jackson was freed the assembled bunch made it clear that no amount of money would convince them to part with the blackmail tape and that Jackson, defeated, would have to accede to all their demands in the future. Dejected, the ruined Jackson skulked away in his now-rumpled Armani suit, to the derisive laughs of all.
**********
“That was splendid, my friend- Jackson was ruined! Hahahah!” guffawed Von Bruder. “Now, as agreed, you must turn over the original tapes and all copies of the sessions to me immediately- as you can see I have prepared a generous check for you of course” went on Von Bruder, handing over a check for $100,000.00 to Ryan.
“Yeah the check is cool enough. But there is one last item to be taken care of before I will hand over the tapes.” replied Ryan, mysteriously.
“Er, exactly what last item of business? The sum is very generous!” stated Von Bruder, dubiously.
“Well, it occurred to me that you’re getting off kind of easily in this whole deal. You’re paying a pittance for a man of your means and you made sure your rival Jackson was totally humbled. You’re kind of a pompous ass yourself really, though very good looking…..” hinted Ryan.
“What are you getting at? What more do you want from me?” queried Von Bruder.
“What I’m getting at is this. You’re a good looking straight dude, rich and powerful. I’m a gay guy holding all the cards. Do the math! I think I’m entitled to a little fun with your hot bod before parting with the tapes.”
“What the fuck? Are you out of your fucking homo mind? There’s NO WAY that is ever gonna happen, dude!” laughed Von Bruder derisively.
“Well it’s up to you- if you really want the tapes you comply- if not, you don’t get them- simple as that!”
“But that’s blackmail!” protested Von Bruder, without irony.
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? But you’re the blackmail master- now the tables are turning and it’s YOUR chance to be blackmailed into something for a change!” crowed Ryan.
“But- But this is impossible! I MUST have those tapes! I’ll destroy Jackson with them! I HAVE to have them!! They must be MINE, I tell you they MUST!!!!!”
“Well, don’t worry. It would just be one little blowjob, no big deal- and your bodyguard here can clear the room of any cameras so there is no danger of anyone ever knowing I got to blow the great Kurt Von Bruder!”
“Well, er just a quick blowjob is all then? I just unzip my fly, you haul it out, suck it, blow it, and we’re done? Then I get the tapes?” queried Von Bruder, reassured that his long-suffering bodyguard Ahmed would be nearby but out of the room, close enough to make sure the gay guy couldn’t do anything really weird to him.
“Yeah, something like that anyway” replied Ryan., vaguely. “And maybe your bodyguard should be part of my fun, too!”
“What?? This is all going too fuckin’ far!” protested Von Bruder, echoed by his bodyguard, Ahmed Hakim.
Ahmed was clearly shocked by this development since Ryan had never informed him that he intended Von Bruder’s hunky bodyguard to be a part of this.
Ryan therefore said “I will now accompany Ahmed and as a trained professional he will successfully disarm all the cameras so no one need fear that this will be taped as well. It will just be my own little private treat,” whereupon he and Ahmed left the room, purportedly to disarm the cameras.
I
n fact, Ryan used this opportunity to let Ahmed know that Ryan would “go easy” on Ahmed whereas his boss Von Bruder would get more than he thought he was bargaining for. No cameras were in fact disarmed but rather kept rolling as part of Ryan and Ahmed’s plot to blackmail Von Bruder, Ahmed intending to edit out any bits that included Ahmed. Ahmed even informed Ryan that he actually wouldn’t really mind getting a blowjob from the gay guy, letting Ryan know that once while he was in the Lebanese army he was serviced (unnecessarily at gunpoint) by a captured gay Israeli soldier who “gave head like crazy, the best ever, I know you gay guys know how to suck cock, that is if you can take it all!” guffawed Ahmed.
Ryan and Ahmed then returned to the bedroom, ostensibly having “disarmed” the cameras.
Ryan then had some fun, (after having previously let Ahmed in on the ruse) coyly throwing out the possibility that Von Bruder could escape further humiliation if he “sacrificed” the modesty of his bodyguard/servant in exchange for preserving more of his own, Ryan implying that he really preferred Ahmed to the somewhat older Von Bruder.
“Yes, go ahead, have your way with Ahmed, you sick fag! Ahmed this is an ORDER! You do whatever this faggot sicko says, understand?” dictated Von Bruder.
“Yeah, hear that, Ahmed? Are you gonna order your bodyguard to strip fuckin naked, then?” queried Ryan.
“Of course! This is an ORDER, Ahmed! Strip completely bareass naked, NOW!” Von Bruder actually enjoying this, anticipating his muscular, buff bodyguard left defenseless and naked.
Ahmed played along perfectly, looking shocked and outraged while secretly anticipating a great blowjob. Acting with feigned disgust, Ahmed reluctantly began to comply, removing his designer sunglasses to reveal his dark brown eyes under full, manly eyebrows, before slowly untying his silk necktie and unbuttoning his designer shirt button-by-button, each unbuttoned button revealing more and more of his olive-skinned very hairy chest until he split the shirt apart to reveal his massively muscular, hairy chest, crowned by his dark nips, his hairy armpits also revealed as he removed the shirt altogether and flung it at Ryan’s feet.
“The pants, too! Everything!” ordered Von Bruder, hoping that Ahmed’s embarrassment would lessen his own or let Ryan forget about it altogether.
Ahmed, glaring and seething with feigned rage, kicked off his designer loafers, undid his designer belt and slipped it off of his pants. He then unhitched his pants before unzipping them, then slowly lowering the fine wool suit pants to reveal his snowy white Calvin Klein boxer briefs and his massive, hairy thighs and muscular calves, before removing his suit pants altogether, leaving him clad only in his bulging Calvins and dark knee-high socks
“Everything!” order Von Bruder, anticipating his bodyguard’s imminent ultimate humiliation.
Sighing resignedly, Ahmed slowly lowered his Calvins to reveal a profusely-black-haired pubic bush, then his club-like uncut cock, unusually large and long, and huge, hairy balls. The Calvins and socks soon joined the rest of Ahmed’ s finery left scattered about the floor, leaving him totally stark naked.
Ryan went “Wow! Nice!” before approaching Ahmed and sinking to his knees to worship the muscular Lebanese bodyguard’s massive prick and hairy balls, burying his face eagerly into the dark hairy nest of the powerfully-built bodyguard’s pubes, inhaling their musky, manly scent. Ryan soon had the bodyguard’s dick rock hard, barely able to deep-throat its massive girth and length, while reaching up to tweak and tease the Lebanese muscleman’s hairy nips which hardened to the touch and caused Ahmed to sigh and moan with pleasure. Ryan also tongue-bathed the bodyguard’s hairy balls one by one before positioning himself behind his naked prey’s hunky, hairy ass, prying apart the cheeks to reveal Ahmed’ virgin hair-haloed rosebud which was duly worshipped in turn, again causing Ahmed to moan and groan with lust. Even the gay Israeli soldier captive had not done that, Ahmed amazed at how good it felt, Ahmed already on the verge of an orgasm from the feeling.
Ryan then returned to sucking Ahmed’s big prick and tickle his hairy balls while also slipping a finger down Ahmed’s now spit-slickened perineum and onto his virgin portal, teasing his butch hole with his finger which nearly penetrated his tightly clenched orifice, causing Ahmed to grunt with surprised pleasure as he felt the unmistakable feeling of an imminent orgasm building deep within his manly body as Ahmed grunted again and gasped loudly as he announced “OH MY GOD!!! I’M CUMMING!!!!!” as bolt after bolt of steaming hot Lebanese semen sprayed down Ryan’s throat before Ryan withdrew it to watch it spurt bolt after bolt of hot cum fountaining out of the bodyguard’s quivering male member to splatter his chest and then the wood floor below, flying sperm bombs forcing Von Bruder to jump out of harm’s way lest he be coated in his bodyguard/servant’s hot spunk.
A few minutes later after Ryan and Ahmed recovered from Ahmed’s giant orgasm, Ryan re-asserted himself and suddenly ordered Von Bruder himself to “Now it’s your turn to strip naked, Von Bruder!”
“What!? I thought you said you’d go easy on me if I let you suck my servant!! The deal was that I would just unzip my pants, haul out my dick, you suck it and that’s it, right? Of course, I will order Ahmed out of the room to preserve my modesty in front of him!”
“Naw, no deal! You’re dropping trou, bro. That is, if you really want the Jackson tapes so you can ruin him.”
“Wait! Isn’t there some other way? I’m a rich man- Name your price!” begged Von Bruder, comically.
“Naw, my ‘price’ is having you strip your pompous ass naked, and you’re gonna do it right here with your bodyguard watching every step of the way- for, er, security purposes, of course.” replied Ryan.
“What! I certainly will NOT remove my clothing in front of Ahmed! He is a lowly servant! Only fit to fetch and carry and protect me from kidnappers for ransom. It is simply not proper!”
“Well, too bad, asshole. You don’t strip you don’t get the tapes. It’s up to you,” pointed out Ryan.
Seething with true rage, and with totally unaccustomed frustration at not getting his way, the imperious Von Bruder was left with no option but to begin disrobing in front of the gay guy and Von Bruder’s own leering bodyguard/servant (whose still naked muscular presence and massively hung manhood Von Bruder feared might make his own look less so in comparison).
Von Bruder angrily slowly removed his designer silk necktie and unbuttoned his designer shirt button-by-button, each unbuttoned button revealing more and more of his sun-bronzed smooth chest. At a command from Ryan, Von Bruder was then forced to split the shirt apart to reveal his muscular smooth chest, crowned by his pale pink nips, his dirty-blond-haired armpits also revealed as he removed the shirt altogether and flung it at Ryan’s feet.
“ Everything!” ordered Ryan.
“Really! This is an OUTRAGE! I shall strip to my shorts but NO FURTHER!” fumed Von Bruder, defiantly.
Von Bruder, glaring and seething with rage, kicked off his Ferragamo designer loafers, undid his designer belt and slipped it off of his pants. He then unhitched his pants before unzipping them, then slowly lowered the fine wool suit pants to reveal he was wearing Armani bikini briefs also revealing his lightly-blond-haired muscular thighs and calves, before removing his suit pants altogether, leaving him clad only in his black bikini briefs and dark knee-high socks.
“Haha! Pretty kinky underwear, eh?” laughed Ryan joined by Ahmed as Von Bruder ordered them to stop their “raucous schoolboy laughter.”
“I’ll have you know that Mrs. Von Bruder finds my bikini briefs ‘sexy’. Had I known I was going to be forced to reveal them I would have worn my usual crisply starched white boxer shorts,” sniffed Von Bruder, imperiously annoyed by the impertinence of these low-lifes and their amusement at his intimate undergarment.
“Now drop the shorts!” ordered Ryan.
“Listen. This has gone FAR ENOUGH!! I refuse to reveal my elite genitalia to the likes of you! You have gotten enough from me- I’m practically naked and there is a draft in here. Now give me those tapes and I shall leave.”
“NO WAY! crowed Ryan. “There’s a bit more to come but then that’ll be it. And rest assured that your bodyguard here will not let me go beyond what was agreed- you can see for yourself that your ‘loyal servant’ Ahmed has the brute strength to kick my ass if I get out of line” went on Ryan, reassuringly, Ahmed drawing himself up to his full proud height as if to emphasize his ability to do so.
Seething with rage, Von Bruder slowly tugged down his tiny black bikini shorts to surprisingly reveal a sparse patch of neatly trimmed dirty-blond haired pubes before revealing an amusingly way-below-average-sized cut penis, flopping flaccidly over an equally unimpressive set of shaved balls, the entire intimate area starkly white in contrast to the rest of the muscular stud’s sun-bronzed hunky body, clearly indicating that (for obvious reasons) the great Von Bruder never dared sun-bathe in the nude for fear of his secretly small endowment becoming known.
Ahmed and Ryan exchanged glances as if to say (“I’ll bet Mrs. Von Bruder fucks the pool boy to get off- that little thing could not possibly satisfy her!”) before bursting into raucous laughter and pointing at Von Bruder’s surprisingly small penis, Ahmed’s own gigantic cock bouncing in reaction to his uproarious laughter as if to emphasize the contrast between the two men’s manhood, Ryan going “HAHAHAHAHAHAAHH!!! LOOK AT THAT LITTLE PUNY DICK!!! HAHAHAHAAHAHAAH! NO WONDER YOU DIDN’T WANT TO SHOW IT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAH!”
“AND THOSE TRIMMED PUBES!!! HAHAH WHAT’S UP WITH THAT MR. STRAIGHT DUDE!? THAT LOOKS SO FUCKIN GAY BUT FROM LIKE 5 YEARS AGO HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Blushing with rage and embarrassment, Von Bruder said ‘I’ll have you know that it is currently very fashionable for gentlemen of my elite stature to have their private parts carefully and discreetly trimmed, and besides Mrs. Von Bruder prefers it,” sniffed Von Bruder. “And I’ll have you know that my penis is what they call a ‘grower’- while smaller in its flaccid state it grows immensely when I am sexually stimulated.”
“Well, go ahead. Show us. See if you can get your little dick hard and strong! Show us what a bigshot elite executive does to himself behind closed doors” laughed Ryan joined again by Ahmed.
“What? You want me to er, masturbate like a schoolboy in front of you!? That is sick! No!” protested Von Bruder.
“You want those tapes, don’t you?” threatened Ryan
Seething with rage, Von Bruder found himself trying to masturbate his completely flaccid, tiny sex organ into something more impressive and fitting for an imperious executive to sport, grunting and groaning with frustration in front of them as his little prick slowly responded, but only growing slightly though hardening and sticking straight out like a very little thin fireplug, looking ridiculous and impotent for such an otherwise powerfully built and imperious man.
“C’mon, You can do better than that! It hardly grew at all! C’mon, let yourself go! Pretend we’re not watching- you can touch yourself in those special places you touch when you’re all alone to get you off!” encouraged Ryan.
Fuming, Von Bruder did allow himself to close his eyes and reach up with one hand to his right nip, tweaking the hardening nip as he sighed with masturbatory pleasure as Ahmed and Ryan exchanged amused looks, and also later slipped a finger down to tickle his little hairless balls, causing his little dick to throb with pleasure, but if it grew it was not noticeable. Surprisingly, the humiliated executive, who had broken a sweat like one of his prized polo horses (minus their horse-hung cocks!) increased his groaning and panting indicating that the horny billionaire was about to blow his (most likely puny) load, whereupon Ryan, sadistically wishing to postpone the imperious shit’s pleasure as long as possible ordered him to “STOPP! IF YOU CUM NOW YOU DON’T GET THE TAPES!!”
The humiliated and frustrated Von Bruder reluctantly let go of his quivering about-to-bust-a-nut cockette which stuck straight out, but pathetically, oozing a drop of pre-cum, the pompous Von Bruder clearly sexually frustrated by not having been allowed to relieve his pent-up sexual needs which he was used to having instantly gratified, his sexual need having been piqued all the more by his recent witnessing of Jackson’s total humiliation, which was more than enough fodder for many a masturbation session to come.
At a signal from Ryan, the equally naked Ahmed suddenly “jumped” his denuded, humiliated employer on the heels of his forced public masturbation session, and physically wrestled the protesting naked Von Bruder over onto the bed where he soon found himself cuffed to the very bed where his arch-rival Jackson had recently been abused, Von Bruder’s still-excited cockette accidentally grinding against the hairy musculature and immensely bigger cock of his bodyguard Ahmed as Von Bruder futilely struggled against the massive musculature of his amazingly strong, bull-like bodyguard, Ahmed’s vastly superior strength leaving the powerful billionaire like a rag doll in his capable servant’s strong hands.
“What is the meaning of this?? Are you out of your mind? I’m your employer for God’s sake! I sign your paychecks! Release me immediately you imbecile or I’ll FUCKIN’ FIRE you!!” fumed Von Bruder, struggling in his bonds powerlessly.
‘FUCK YOU, VON BRUDER!! YOU WEASLY, DINKY-COCKED BASTARD!! YOU FUCKIN’ DESERVE THIS! AND BY THE WAY, IT’S ALL BEING FILMED FOR BLACKMAIL SO YOU CAN TAKE YOUR JOB AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR BLUE-BLOODED ASS! THE WHOLE WORLD WILL LAUGH AT YOUR PUNY PRICK!!” crowed Ahmed.
“OH MY GOD! You’re joking!? YOU TRAITOR! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!! I’LL PAY YOU ALL YOU WANT JUST LET ME GO! DON’T LET THAT FAG NEAR ME!! PROTECT ME LIKE I PAY YOU TO DO!! NOOOOOOOO!!! AND TURN OFF THOSE DAMNED CAMERAS!! I’M COMPLETELY EXPOSED!!! NO ONE MUST SEE A POWERFUL INDUSTRIALIST LIKE THIS! OH MY GOD MY COCK EXPOSED FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE, NOOOOOOO!!!” pleaded Von Bruder, near tears and scared shitless, writhing in his bonds, his tiny cockette rearing and quivering with excitement just the same.
Ryan then approached the cowering Von Bruder, naked again himself and, while Ahmed held Von Bruder’s head and forced it down, Von Bruder was made to suck Ryan’s tumescent cock, choking on it being unaccustomed to such activity, Von Bruder then being forced to slavishly lick and suck Ryan’s balls and rim his ass as he threatened to puke only being held back by Ryan’s threat to make him eat his own puke if he did that.
Ryan then ordered Von Bruder to suck both his and Ahmed’s big cocks simultaneously, making Von Bruder’s patrician cheeks bulge like a chipmunk full of nuts as he was force-fed the 2 men’s huge cocks which rubbed together in ecstasy, Ahmed more intent on revenge while Ryan derived an extra thrill from the frottage against Ahmed’s powerful manly cock. Von Bruder was then forced to suck their hairy balls as well, as Von Bruder protested to no avail.
Ahmed then forced Von Bruder to lick and suck the sweat out of his hairy, Lebanese armpits, Ahmed glad that they now stunk with hairy Lebanese man-sweat, Von Bruder’s face slick with the salty funky moisture as he was forced to inhale the sauna-like stench of his bodyguard’s hairy pits, the imperious bastard reduced to licking the sweat of his “low-life” former employee. Ahmed then turned around and shoved his ass in Von Bruder’s outraged face and, after letting a loud fart right in his face, forced a disgusted Von Bruder to eat out his ass and tongue his butch hole as Ahmed snickered with laughter, reminding him it was on cam!
Ahmed and Ryan then released the shocked and disgusted Von Bruder from the bed and man-handled him over to the leather-padded sawhorse where Jackson had recently suffered, placing him on all fours on his stomach with his wrists and ankles bound, his naked ass high in the air, his defenseless virgin hole exposed.
‘NOOOOO!!! NOOOO !! NOT THAT!!!!!!! OH MY GOD MY ASS NOOOOO!!!”begged Von Bruder to the sadistic cackles of Ryan and Ahmed.
Ryan then brutally shoved his hard cock into Von Bruder’s tight hole, again using Von Bruder’s own necktie to ride him like one of his own polo ponies as Von Bruder howled in pain which soon amusingly changed to ooos and ahhhs as Ryan spanked the billionaire’s penetrated ass until it was red, while jerking Von Bruder’s tiny cockette which responded to the pressure of Ryan’s cock on his prostate, Von Bruder crying out in painful pleasure as Ryan milked a surprisingly big load from the industrialist’s tiny cockette which Ahmed caught in a dish. Ahmed then forced Von Bruder to lap up his own cum out of the dish before Ahmed jerked his load spraying right into Von Bruder’s shocked face and as Ryan withdrew and shot his load all over Von Bruder’s suntanned back.
Ryan and Ahmed then delighted in shaving Von Bruder bald, then shaving his pits and what chest hair he had, the remnants of his over-trimmed pubes, his asscrack and his legs leaving him totally hairless as he screamed with rage to their laughter.
After reminding Von Bruder that he was ruined and had to report to Ryan for further “duty” and that he had to give an excellent reference for Ahmed “or else” Von
Bruder left a broken man as well, cursing as he skulked away, ruined.
THE END
Richard
Posted on 29 June 2014 | 5:00 pm
Richard presents another crazy hot gay tickling story. This time his victims are abusive police officers who get the tables turned on them and suffer through tickling, cum control and more and the hands of two gay men.
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State Troopers Tied and Tickled
by Richard
State Trooper Mark Walker sat in his police cruiser, idly scratching his big bull-balls through his uniform pants, waiting for another speeder to come by on the winding mountain road, preferably female, so he could make his quota, both in terms of traffic tickets and in terms of his “quota” of unsuspecting female motorists whom he had bullied into sex in exchange for being let out of a ticket. The 28-year-old 6′ 3″ Officer Walker cursed the summer heat, edging up the air conditioning control as he ran one strong, sun-bronzed hand over his darkly handsome State Trooper crew-cutted head, idly musing on how he could sure use to get laid; hell, it’d been days since he plugged that cow of a waitress at the diner- he needed to get his rocks off soon, even if it meant taking the matter in to his own hands, as it were. Mark just needed one more traffic stop for that Friday; it was nearly five; the end of his shift, and Officer Walker had already received permission from his superiors to keep his police cruiser overnight before his morning shift on Saturday. Mark lived in a mountain A-frame nearby and it often made more sense for him to keep his cruiser rather than drive all the way back to the local station and turn it in. Besides, his bud, Officer Nick Brandolino had the evening shift on this stretch of highway, so any lawbreakers would be caught for sure. Officer Brandolino was 26; the 6′ 4″ dude was also a definite lady’s man, his dark Italian good looks always winning him admiring looks from the “babes” (as well as from some dudes, though Officer Brandolino never noticed this). Mark and Nick often worked out together at the police gym, and Mark had initiated Nick into bedding female motorists for sport; and, when the duo weren’t doing that, they were out together for a night of drinking and beating up “fags” at the local public park restrooms. Yeah, Nick’s a cool guy, thought Mark, Mark having to admit to himself that his bud was one hell of a stud-shit, the fucker had even beat Mark during a private wrestling match at the police gym after hours, the strong stud pinning his superior officer’s head between his sun-bronzed jet-black-haired muscular thighs, his scratchy leg hairs goosing Mark’s handsome face and beardline and the top of Mark’s crew-cutted head being squashed into Nick’s bulging gym-short-covered crotch. Mark cursed at his younger friend, Nick swatting Mark’s gym-shorted ass, and pulling Mark’s shorts down below Mark’s jockstrap to even spank Mark’s nearly bare ass, then reaching his fingers into Mark’s gym tee shirt while his head was immobilized between Nick’s hairy thighs to reach up and tickle Mark’s unprotected hairy underarms, laughing as Mark yelped in surprise, Nick having discovered that Officer Walker was ticklish there. Sensing that his superior officer had reached his limit of toleration, however, Nick had suddenly released Mark from between his thighs, saying “race ya to the showers, dude!” as he peeled off his sweaty gym clothes revealing his naked, sun-bronzed, hairy body, huge flaccid cock, hairy bull balls and lightly hair-flecked white asscheeks. Mark had followed suit, snapping Nick’s bare ass with a towel as he chased Nick into the showers. Later, he and Nick had gone out bar-hopping where they picked up an initially willing waitress, Mark and Nick later “double-teaming” her, Mark fucking her while Nick shoved his hot Italian salami up her ass against her will, raping her ass while Mark fucked her, Nick’s hairy bull balls slapping against Mark’s until they both shot off inside her only to withdraw and collapse on top of each other, good-naturedly (they thought)laughing as they ended up exhausted and covered in each other’s sweat and cum. What a guy! Of course, they threatened the waitress with dire consequences if she cried “rape” later, planting drugs in her apartment and writing up a dummy police report just in case. The fearful waitress had no choice but to let it ride.
Officer Walker’s recall of their recent exploits was interrupted when Mark said aloud, “What the fuck?” as the studly cop saw a red BMW convertible come skidding around a curve at a speed slightly above the limit. Shit even better, thought Officer Walker; the car was driven by a buxom blonde and a brunette companion. Both appeared to be about 25 and extremely good-looking, even “hot” in cockmaster Walker’s estimation. Mark gave his itching cock one last anticipatory squeeze, then switched on the lights and siren and began his “hot pursuit” of the fleeing babes.
Officer Walker soon had them pulled over on the shoulder off the highway, his police cruiser behind their red convertible. Officer Mark Walker exited his police vehicle, placing his State Trooper cowboy-type hat on his head, and strutted slowly toward the convertible, speaking into his police radio attached to his manly shoulder announcing to his soon-to-be-on-duty bud Officer Brandolino that he was making a traffic stop, until he was alongside the buxom blonde, pointedly peering down her vast cleavage as he snarled “License and registration. Your vehicle was traveling in excess of the speed limit, ma’am. I’m going to have to give you a ticket, unless you can think of a good reason why I shouldn’t.” “You’re in trouble too, ma’am,” said Officer Walker as he looked at the brunette, tossing a baggie full of pot into the passenger side of the car. The brunette loudly complained, but her girlfriend said she bet she knew what the Officer really wanted, suddenly ripping open her tight blouse to expose her big tits to Officer Walker’s drooling view. “Is this what you want, hon? You want sex in exchange for no ticket/no arrest right?” the butch cop replying “Affirmative, ma’am” in his best copspeak, a big smile spreading across his darkly handsome face. “Please step out of the car, ladies, and proceed over to that little clearing off the forest.”
Unbeknownst to anyone, Gary Stockwell and Bill Harrison were renting a nearby secluded cabin for the weekend. The cabin belonged to a local paramedic and his wife who were on vacation. The couple rented out the cabin to help defray the cost of their trip. Bill was unpacking stuff in the cabin while Gary was out familiarizing himself with the area, Bill discovering that the paramedic had stored some used medical equipment in an outbuilding, including an old gurney used to transport people into paramedic vans. Gary and Bill were a gay couple in their late 20′s who had been together about two years.
Gary just happened to be walking by when he saw the cop and the two women approaching the clearing from where he stood behind the cover of some tree branches. The blonde and brunette had complied with the cop’s orders, walking into the clearing just off the highway, Gary overhearing the cop speak into his police radio attached to his uniform shirt “Yeah, Officer Nick Brandolino, old buddy, got a couple of live ones here, dude, eat your heart out, stud, I’ll provide details, later.” Then to the young women’s horror as well as Gary’s, Officer Walker suddenly pulled his gun on them and ordered them to “STRIP!!” c’mon you broads, give me a show, yeah!!!” The brunette adamantly refused but at a secret wink from her girlfriend, both began complying, removing all their clothes slowly and with a maximum bump and grind for Officer Walker’s benefit, until the ground was littered with their bras, panties, jeans and blouses, which Officer Walker scooped up asking them “How does it feel, ladies, to be stark, bareass naked in public? Ya want your fuckin’ clothes back, bitches, you’re gonna have to earn `em back! C’mon you, bitches, crawl over here and give your arresting officer some head, yeah!” Mark reveling in seeing their naked, voluptuous bodies in their total nudity.
The blonde and brunette crawled over naked to where Officer Walker proudly stood in his spiffy State Trooper uniform, Officer Walker having replaced his gun in its holster on his hip. Just as Gary was reaching for his cell phone to report the injustice, the duo began to unzip the officer’s uniform pants to pretend to extract his cock, when the blonde suddenly grabbed Officer Walker’s gun!
Gary aborted his call, suddenly interested in how things might proceed. Gary watched with admiration as “Thelma and Louise” suddenly ordered the cop himself to “STRIP!!! C’MON YOU MOTHERFUCKER, LET’S SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING FORCED TO STRIP IN PUBLIC!!!”
The snarling cop put his hands over his head but adamantly refused to do anything more, ordering the duo to hand over his gun, saying that he would let them go with a warning, that it was 20 years in prison for assaulting a “peace officer”, to be “good little girls” and use “their pretty little heads” to see that this had to stop, that they had to fuckin’ sexually service him NOW or else!
“Or else, what? little man?” crowed the blonde waving the cop’s own gun at him. “I’ve lost my patience with your little mealy-mouthed copbabble! I’m gonna shoot your worthless cop nuts right off your swaggering body and `do a Bobbitt on you’ with this 38 unless you fucking strip out of your little cop uniform NOW!!” “And put on a show for us! Give us a Chippendale’s performance or your ass is grass!”
Eyes bugging from the fact that he obviously underestimated these two fucking bitches, proud, butch State Trooper Mark Walker was left with no options but to slowly remove his uniform shirt, waving a threatening finger and giving an absolutely Clintonian seething straight-in-the eyes look as he said “you will PAY for this, you bitches, I swear!! I will personally track you down like the dog bitches you are, and you will wish you were never born, believe me!” to the sound of the duo’s exuberant laughter, as Officer Walker removed his uniform shirt only to be ordered to hand it over to the duo. Next came the regulation white tee shirt which hugged the officer’s hunky sexy torso, Officer Walker being forced at gunpoint to do a little dance as he slowly raised the garment over his head revealing his sun-bronzed muscular torso, his hairy chest covered with a lawn of jet-black hair which fanned out over his magnificent pectorals to cap his perfect, pointed little hair-haloed man-tits, also revealing his hairy sweaty armpits as he was forced at gunpoint to complete his little strip-dance by whirling his sweaty tee shirt over his head in a bump and grind, spinning it around and around and then being ordered to set it flying, which Officer Walker did. To Gary’s surprise, the cop’s sweaty tee shirt landed practically at his feet where he stood covered by foliage. Gary surreptitiously scooped up the fragrant tee shirt and pressed the damp armpit areas of the cop’s tee shirt to his face, inhaling deeply on the straight, butch cop’s musky pit sweat and rubbing his own rapidly responding crotch as he awaited further proceedings.
The duo next ordered the half-naked State trooper to remove his uniform pants and after several refusals and pleas to reconsider, the brash young cop/rapist was forced to drop his uniform pants, revealing his sun-bronzed hairy legs and leaving him now clad only in his white cotton Calvin Klein shorts.
Officer Walker was then ordered to turn around and pull his Calvins down, then was ordered to “spread `em” by the duo, forcing the cop to reveal his bare white assglobes which were lightly jet-black hair-flecked, and his furry asscrack, also revealing his spread-open tiny, hair-haloed virgin butthole, to his abject humiliation. The cop was then allowed to pull his Calvins back up over his ass, only to be ordered to spread his arms behind way behind him and over his head and then around the trunk of huge nearby tree, where the two women handcuffed him to the tree trunk clad only in his Calvins, his outstretched arms and sweaty hairy armpits stretched to their utmost extent over and behind his handsome head. They then blindfolded him with an old rag from the car and teased him about his condition as they changed back into their own clothes, leaving the State Trooper’s uniform pants and uniform shirt, with its now inaccessible police radio attached to it, neatly folded at his bare feet, beside his shoes and socks, then placing the State Trooper cowboy-style hat on top of these, and his gunbelt with his gun replaced in the holster beside his neatly folded uniform.
As they prepared to leave, the duo then suddenly ripped off the cop’s Calvins with a funky RRRRRRRIIIPPPPPPPPPPPP!!! revealing the cop’s huge, half-hard cock in its nest of luxuriant jet-black pubes, his hairy bull-balls swaying underneath, and tossing the torn shorts way over their heads, the sweaty shorts falling fortuitously right at Gary’s feet again. Gary snatched these up as well, inhaling their musky scent and noting with amusement the few stray pubic hairs that had caught in the crotch and seat of his sweaty shorts.
The duo laughed and teased the denuded, blindfolded bound macho cop, asking him how it felt being all naked and tied to a tree, and horny, huh? How did it feel. stud? The blonde deliberately jacked on the cop’s big cock causing him to involuntarily sigh and moan as his prick jumped and swelled in grateful response, the brunette asking the cop “ooo but don’t those armpits look vulnerable, honey, I wonder if our little cop-boy’s armpits are ticklish, hmmm? Kitchie kitchie koo!” as the brunette delved her sharp long polished fingernails into the exposed depths of the cop’s hairy, sweaty armpits as he lay panting strapped to the tree trunk, causing the cop to flinch at the sudden contact, then laugh his head off at the ticklish feeling which was heightened by the fact that he could not see where she was headed next, and causing his cock to sway and harden even more. The blonde then bent open the wire that held the keys to the handcuffs so it was wide enough to slip over the head of the cop’s half-hard cock, hanging the dangling keys to his freedom so close and yet so far, telling the cop not to lose his boner or he’d lose the keys, also laughing as the dangling keys also tickled the tops of his hanging hairy bull balls, forcing him to goose himself each time he moved.
The duo then laughingly left the cop naked and cuffed to the tree, announcing that they were going to “take care” of the trooper’s patrol car for him, Officer Walker hearing as the blonde revved up his proud, powerful police cruiser, then floored it before jumping out, the duo clapping their hands and laughing as the powerful, expensive cruiser flew off the side of the road through the forest only to roll down an embankment and into a murky little lake below, the duo watching as the cop car hit the surface of the water, floated, then sank to the bottom in a profusion of bubbles, steam and debris.
“I can’t fuckin believe you bitches!! cried the cop, his treasured police cruiser now ruined at the bottom of the remote lake, not likely to be discovered for a long time to come, accompanied by the sound of their laughter as they roared off in their convertible in true “Thelma and Louise” fashion, the brunette rolling a joint out of the baggie the cop dropped in the convertible, lighting it and sharing it with the blonde as they drove off in to the setting sun, laughing giddily!
Gary went back to the cabin to tell Bill what fun awaited them this weekend; “I mean, Bill, I didn’t really even want to go on this camping weekend in the mountains shit, but you were right, the area is full of natural wonders; you won’t believe the beauty of the furry creature I just saw in the clearing off the highway!,” Gary eagerly filling Bill in on the festivities. Bill and Gary couldn’t believe their luck, Bill taking a hit of the cop’s purloined tee shirt and shorts as an “appetizer” as Gary and Bill let the cop wait a good 15-20 minutes tied to the tree, laughing silently as they heard the cop repeatedly yell into the silence “Help me!!! I am a police officer!!!” “Let me go!!” “Is somebody there??” “Helpppp!!!!!” as he quickly approached the plaintive wail stage.
Bill set up a video recorder at a distance , recording as the naked cop struggled and sweated in his bondage, cuffed naked to the big tree trunk, cursing and swearing and pulling at his bonds to no avail as he screamed for help in the silent void of the remote area, the handcuff keys precariously attached to his cockhead swinging wildly and finally slipping off his cock onto the ground, to his shock.
Gary and Bill then decided to “appear” for the cop’s benefit, the cop then toning down his braying demands for release once he realized “a couple of citizens” had come to his aid, thanking them profusely and explaining more quietly that he “had been transporting some fugitives to prison who jumped him unexpectedly and drove off with his police cruiser. This has to be reported at once so that the criminals can be caught.” Officer Walker explained that the keys to his handcuffs should be on the ground nearby.
Gary and Bill pretended not to see the keys, however, and instead made a business of trying to free Officer Walker’s bound body, pulling at the cuffs and rubbing their clothed bodies against his naked one, secretly sniffing his pits and “accidentally” brushing their faces into them, rubbing their crotches against his naked crotch, etc. finally announcing it was “no go”.
“My police radio!” It must still be attached to my shirt! Radio my friend Officer Brandolino, he’ll get a locksmith or something! “No, no police radio” lied Gary and Bill- in reality it remained on his shirt, just switched off. Officer Walker cursed the “fuckin’ bitches,” momentarily forgetting his “transporting felons” story.
Gary and Bill then departed, claiming they would go call a locksmith from their cabin, then waited about 10 more minutes before silently re-appearing in the role of “bad guys” passing themselves off as 2 “new” guys who happened on the scene, guys who hate “fuckin’ cops”.
Officer Walker struggled in his bonds as Gary and Bill proceeded to attack him from behind the tree and from in front of the tree respectively, using their twenty twitching fingers to tickle and tease the bound cop stud, Gary delving his fingers deep into Officer Walker’s hopelessly exposed, hairy, sweaty armpits while Bill snuck up on the officer’s hairy chest, tits, sides and ribs, causing Officer Walker to scream, curse, and flinch like he had been shocked with electricity, all of this captured by the whirring video camera. “Cut that shit the fuck out! What are you, some kind of goddamned fuckin’ faggots or something? Stop this shit NOW!!!” futilely ordered the bound, struggling cop, as Gary and Bill really let the arrogant cop/rapist have it, relentlessly tickling all of the most sensitive areas of his exposed body, Gary and Bill alternately switching from their lithe fingers to feathers, toothbrushes, ice cubes, and tiny bits of the fallen branches in the forest, driving their captive up the wall, as Officer Walker’s hairy sweaty armpits, man-tits, sides, ribs and then his cock and hairy bull-balls were all tickled and teased, Bill insinuating tiny feather fronds all over the sensitive glans of the butch cop’s excited cockhead while simultaneously teasing his hairy bull-balls until the cop’s big cock filled with blood and mounting sex-heat, the naked cop’s body traitorously responding to the exciting stimulation. Officer Walker alternately oooed and ahhhed from the pleasant sensation of having his cop cock stroked, teased and fondled by Bill’s feathers, and laughed and shrieked and pulled wildly at his bonds, as both dudes tickled the shit out of the embarrassed, stripped-naked-in-public cop, Officer Walker shouting at them to “STOPPPP!!!!!! NO MORE!!!!!! C’MON, YOU FUCKIN’ LAWBREAKERS, STOPPP!!!! I’M A POLICE OFFICER FOR GODSAKE!!! AIEEEEEE!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!!!! HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!! OH MY GOD, NOOOOO, STOPPPPP!!!! I CAN’T FUCKIN’ TAKE ANY MORE OF THIS SHIT!!! I’M FUCKIN’ CRAWLIN’ OUT OF MY FUCKIN’ SKIN!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”
Bill and Gary then took turns repeatedly teasing the sadistic cop’s own big cop cock and hairy bull-balls, using feathers and toothbrushes and their own fingers to stroke, tease, fondle, and arouse the hapless cop’s throbbing boner, tiny fire-feathers of mounting lust driving the bound officer to frustrated distraction, again and again bringing the hot-to-trot officer to the very brink of orgasm, only to back off and laugh as they watched the dude’s throbbing boner jump with every beat of his racing heart, then slowly subside slightly, only for them to again renew their sensuous, teasing tickle torture of their captive cop’s aching privates while they simultaneously tickled his heaving, hairy chest, hair-haloed man-tits, and hopelessly exposed, hairy sweaty cop-pits.
Making matters worse for Officer Walker was the fact that he was supremely embarrassed and ashamed that he had got himself in such a position. The great, proud officer was only too well aware that he had been outfoxed by two foxy bitches who had forced him to strip out of his proud uniform, tied him to a tree naked, and left him there to be found by two cop-hating dudes. To add insult to injury, Officer Walker’s shame, humiliation, and the fact that he was stripped bareass naked in public and helpless was somehow secretly turning him on, the very feeling of being forced to be naked outdoors where anyone could happen by and see him bare was adding an extra measure of throbbing excitement to Officer Walker’s confused brain, his realization that every square inch of his manly body was so hopelessly exposed and utterly capable of being toyed with by whomever wished to do so, was turning him on over and beyond what the duo was doing to his body. Officer Walker had never felt so, so NAKED! Mark was only too well aware of the drafts of warm air eddying around his denuded body, the soft, warm, dry air goosing every inch of his exposed, helpless, sensitive flesh, the warm sundown breezes electrically teasing each tuft of hair in his exposed armpits, groin, his hair-haloed virgin asshole, and the individual hairs standing up on his sun-bronzed, goose-bumped muscular legs, as wave after wave of sensuous, unfulfilled lust coursed through his manly veins, his hair-haloed tits hardening in response to the stimulation into tiny eraser-nubs of over-stimulated flesh, and his cock helplessly throbbing in response, Officer Walker squealing with aching desire like the proverbial bitch-in-heat he was!
Gary and Bill merely continued their extreme tickle torture of their helpless, deserving victim, relentlessly teasing and tickling every inch of his squirming, squealing body. Gary insinuated a feather from below Officer Walker’s hairy, hanging bull-balls, Gary inhaling their musky, manly cop-ball scent, as he teasingly slowly slid the feather tip sensuously down, down, down the hairy, corded flesh behind the macho stud’s manly bull-balls, only to sensuously circle the dude’s hair-haloed virgin asshole, teasingly trailing the feather tip with practiced erotic ease in concentric circles around and around and then over the manly hole, anally teasing the uptight dude’s never-before-stimulated butthole. As Officer Walker drooled with lust and oooed and ahhhed involuntarily at the incredibly exciting feeling of having his sacrosanct butch hole teased and stimulated against his will, diabolical Bill teased and excited the captive cop’s throbbing boner and hairy bull-balls, making the nut oysters in the horny cop/rapist’s cum-churning cop-balls go wild, aching to be released from his incredibly pent-up nuts, the hapless young officer’s own baby-makers squirming to blast out of his manly cock with incredible pressure, so great was the horny young cop’s maddening sexual tension. Every fiber of the young cop’s being desperately sought release, both from his humiliating public bondage and from his blue-balled need to cum.
While Bill teasingly trailed the soft fronds of the tip of one feather right on the tip and pee-hole of the young, bucking cop’s big cock and trailed another under his bouncing cop bull-balls, Gary continued to circle the tip of another feather around and around the studly young law enforcement officer’s butch shitter, teasing his normally fiercely protected virgin asshole and causing him to involuntarily ooo and ahhh at the unexpected mind-boggling pleasure and arousal this was producing in his manly loins. The ever- devious Gary alternately slowly and teasingly danced the feather from the butch cop’s hair-haloed asshole up through the top of his furry crack to let it tease and arouse the sensitive base of the young law enforcement officer’s spine, sending unbearable chills of erotic stimulation throughout his body, sending erotic thrills up his spine to the base of his pleasure-seeking brain and causing his hair-haloed man-tits to harden into pulsing points of mind-boggling lust, his hot little-man-tits feeling like simmering volcanoes desperate to spew their own molten lava.
Gary then re-trailed the feather down the drooling cop’s furry asscrack, teasingly headed back to do its anal stimulation number, Gary smiling with sadistic glee as he could actually see the butch cop’s hole twitching and relaxing in excited anticipation of being royally serviced again, the hyper-hetero cop’s hole knowing what it liked, the little pink button being thrust in little figure 8′s as Officer Walker’s hole was wantonly begging to be stimulated again, the cop actually trying to rear and back his shamelessly exposed shithole right onto the approaching feather. Seeing this, Gary decided to momentarily deny the desperate cop his anticipated pleasure, instead withdrawing the feather and reaching up to spread the accessible lower portions of each of the cop’s lightly hair-flecked asscheeks as he struggled in his bondage against the tree trunk, Gary widely separating those cheeks to totally expose the horny cop’s hot-to-trot hair-haloed asshole, only to blow his hot breath right over, onto and into the hotshot cop’s butthole, again causing the sexually excited denuded law enforcement officer to mewl in unbidden sexual pleasure, while Bill used two feathers to simultaneously tease the wiseass cop’s hairy bull-balls and the tip of his pulsing pecker. Gary couldn’t resist also opening the palms of his big hands and spanking the deserving cheeks of the cop’s ass, leaving hot pink, then fire-engine red handprints on each shocked assglobe, as the cop yelped in surprise, Gary also scratching and pinching those deserving cheeks, yanking out stray hairs that grew on the red cheeks to further yelps of astonished pain mixed with the undeniable pleasure he was feeling as a result of Bill simultaneously teasing his pent-up hairy bull-balls and delicate stimulation of his throbbing cockhead and glans.
Gary and Bill then abruptly stopped the teasing feather tickling altogether, only to instead each take a pair of tweezers and approach the confused hunk’s blindfolded body. Just when Officer Walker’s brain had registered that the pleasant stimulation of his most intimate areas had suddenly stopped, he became aware of tiny twinges of pain as cold metallic objects approached his manly upraised hairy armpits, hair-haloed man-tits and lush public forest, first tickling these vulnerable, hopelessly exposed and sensitive areas, then individually plucking body hairs out of his bound body, the cop suddenly yelping as little samples of his hotshot cop pubies, pit hairs and other body hairs were plucked off of his body one-by-one. Gary and Bill kept this up for several minutes, plucking out individual leg hairs, pubic hairs, hairs off of the writhing stud’s pent-up cop balls, hair out of his manly asscrack and hair-haloed virgin butthole, hair from around his man-tits, his sweaty underarms, and off of his hairy chest and six-pack abs, Officer Walker yelping in surprise each time, especially when Gary yanked out some hair around his sensitive navel as well, Officer Walker arching his strong sun-bronzed muscular back in response and scraping same on the bark of the tree trunk Worse, when they weren’t plucking out the body hairs, the cold metallic tweezer ends were tickling the horny young law enforcement officer’s most sensitive areas, his cop pits, his tits, his sides and ribs, down his legs, inside his hairy thighs, the backs of his knees, all unpredictably and at random, the blindfolded cop unable to anticipate where the damn things were going next. Officer Walker cursed and threatened to no avail as his deserving hunky cop bod was felt up and teased relentlessly by the diabolical duo.
Since the sunlight was now fading fast, Gary and Bill returned to their feather teasing of the bound stud, Gary again insinuating a feather over, then into the now receptive cop’s anal ring, Gary actually feather-fucking the hotshot cop’s hairy virgin asshole, while Bill deliciously teased Officer Walker’s hairy, pent-up cop bull-balls and titillated the very tip and glans of the young, stalwart State Trooper’s throbbing boner, again and again unbearably teasing the proud law enforcement officer’s most treasured organs, causing the hotshot cop to writhe in his bonds and beg for release to no avail. Gary and Bill would again and again bring the desperate, begging cop/rapist to the very brink of incredible orgasm, only to deny him his cum and laugh as the almost-there cop got a set a true blue-balls, all his sperm ducts on “go” only to be denied at the crucial moment as the trigger to orgasm was expertly denied over and over again until the drooling young State Trooper was madly thrusting his manly ass back onto the invading feather, fucking himself with the feather, in an effort to trigger his orgasm, sweating like the pig he was and pleading with his sadistic torturers to “let me cum, please let me cum I’ll do anything, just puh-leeze let me cum!
Gary and Bill finally decided to see whether the hotshot State Trooper had been “eating his Wheaties”; whether the conceited hunk could really “cut the mustard” and blast a hot load for their amusement. To that end, and with a conspiratorial wink, Gary and Bill suddenly intensified their assault on the out-of-it young law enforcement officer’s hot bod, tickling him all over at random with feathers, toothbrushes and their talented fingers, his hairy sweaty armpits, tits, sides, ribs, navel, as well as teasing his cockhead and hairy bull-balls with feathers. Gary also relentlessly thrust the invading fuck-feather up the dude’s tight virgin shitchute, and, as the duo observed their bound hunk’s size 12 feet begin to flex, his manly hair-flecked toes curling, his tight little ass whirring back and forth onto the feather which delicately stimulated his never-before-utilized prostate, and then saw him throw his head back and scream in uncontrollable lust, both Gary and Bill suddenly clamped their mouths over each of the hotshot cop’s volcanic hair-haloed man-tits as Bill simultaneously scraped feathers over the cop’s hairy pent-up balls and the tip of his cock, until, with no other stimulation, the hotshot cop’s cock finally was allowed to erupt al on its own with a funky whoosh, as highly pressurized white-hot cop cum suddenly flew out of the pee-hole of the cop’s pulsating boner, his pent-up bull-balls unleashing bolt after bolt of hotshot cop cum-rockets, splattering high in the air, onto Gary and Bill, onto the cop’s own heaving, hairy chest, tits and into his pits, his face and crew-cutted hair, giant volleys of cop cum arcing high in the air way across the clearing, again and again releasing huge wads of pent-up cop cum from his long-denied blue balls, as the cop unnecessarily announced “I’M CUMMING!!! OH MY GOD I’M FINALLY DOING IT! ARRRRGHHHHHH!!!! AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! OH SHIT!!!!!!! OH MY FUCKIN’ GAWDDDDDDD!!!!!! OH, YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! ALLLL RIGHTTTTTT!!!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHH, SHIT, YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Gary and Bill gathered up cum off of the cop’s heaving chest and fed it to him, making him swallow his own cum and lick it off their fingers. While Officer Walker attempted to recover from the most intense orgasm of his miserable life, Gary and Bill released the panting, naked law enforcement officer at gunpoint, cuffing his hands behind him and leading him to their cabin as darkness began to fall, Gary also bringing the cop’s uniform and police equipment.
Gary and Bill led the still naked and blindfolded State Trooper, Mark Walker, to the bedroom of the cabin where he was ordered at gunpoint to lie on his sun-tanned, muscular back on the bed with his arms over his head, Bill re-handcuffing the denuded young law enforcement officer to the brass headboard, while the stalwart hotshot cop’s bare, pink-soled, size 12 feet were pulled through the far right and left sides of the top of the foot of the bed and securely roped, his hairy ankles just fitting between the gaps in the tops of the brass uprights of the foot of the bed, and his big tootsies hanging out of the gaps, hopelessly exposed to the warm night air, making Officer Walker somehow feel even more naked than before as the warm evening air danced around his bare feet. With his feet and legs raised to reach the top of the foot of the bed, Officer Walker’s bare ass and asscrack was also shamelessly exposed and accessible. Officer Walker immediately began to struggle in his new bondage position, pulling down on his cuffs and trying to free his feet to no avail. All his struggling succeeded in doing was to make his big cock flop around on his six-pack abs and hairy, muscular thighs, until he was again sporting a half-hard cock for his efforts.
Gary and Bill then proceeded to each position themselves at the foot of the bed, using a tapering feather each on each of his bare pink-soled size 12s running the tapering feathers simultaneously down the middle of each foot then danced the feathers over his exposed heels, soles and ten twitching, curling toes as Officer Walker gasped and said “AIEEEEE!!!! HAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHA!!!!!!!!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! OH MY GAWWWDDDDDD!!!!!!! STOPPPPPP!!!! NO!!!!!! NOT MY FEET!!!! NO, NOT TWO AT ONCE, NOOOOOO!!!!!!!” as Gary and Bill laughed and said “Kootchie kootchie koo! What a ticklish baby!!! Woo-Hoo, Woo-Hoo, yeah, take it you fuckin’ asshole cop, how ya like having your smelly tootsies worked over when there’s not a thing in the world you can do about it, huh? Like that, huh? Yeah your cock knows what it likes! Look, the motherfucker’s throwing another boner, dude!!!” as the combined effect of the foot tickling and Officer Walker’s wild struggling to free his feet from Gary and Bill’s tickling assault was indeed making the butch young stud spring another bone, his big cock filling with blood and hardening as he writhed and pleaded with them to stop.
Gary left Bill to tickling both feet while he approached the cop’s boner with his own feathers, teasing the very tip and pee-hole of the bound hotshot cop’s pulsating pecker while insinuating other feather fronds over the tops and backs of the bullying State Trooper’s hairy bull-balls, again stimulating the churning nut oysters in the young cop’s nutsacs against his will. Gary then straddled Officer Walker’s heaving, hairy chest and dug all ten twitching fingers deep into the sweaty, hairy recesses of the proud young officer’s studly armpits, getting the ride of his life as the bucking lawman squealed and squirmed from the combined effects of Bill’s relentless foot tickling and Gary’s own armpit tickling. Gary then trailed his educated fingers over the cop’s hair-haloed man-tits, tweaking and pinching his nips into eraser-tip-like hardness, then raking his wildly tickling fingers into his sides, ribs and belly-button, using one finger to de-fuzz the cop’s belly button, as Officer Walker writhed and arched his strong back in response, the hotshot cop gasping, squealing and mewling as he pleaded with them to “STOPPPP!!! NOOOO!!! I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE OF THIS SHIT!!!!! I’LL DO ANYTHING, ANY-THING, JUST LET ME GO NOW!!!!!!AIEEEEEE!!!!!! ARGGGGHHHHHHHH!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! HEE HEE HEEE!!! OH SHIT!!!!!! NO MORE!!!!!! C’MON STOPPPPP!!!! PUH-LEEZE!!!!! I’M BEGGING YOU!!!!! STOPPPP!!!! NO MORE!!!!!!”
Gary and Bill merely kept up the tickle torture for several more minutes until the cop was a total basket case, absolutely certifiable for the loony bin and half tickled to death. Gary picked up the cop’s police radio attached to his uniform shirt, telling Officer Walker that they “might consider letting Officer Walker go if he could provide that policeman bud of his Officer Nick Brandolino to them, the one he had bragged to earlier.” Officer Walker was shocked as he realized Gary must have seen him humiliated by “Thelma and Louise,” but was only too willing to get even with his junior officer for having bested him in their private police gym wrestling matches. Officer Walker therefore agreed to “set up” Officer Brandolino, who was patrolling that night as a motorcycle officer. Officer Walker was ordered at gunpoint to reach Officer Brandolino on the private frequency they used between themselves, telling Nick to come to the cabin, let himself into the front room, that Officer Walker was in the bedroom with two “kinky babes”. Officer Walker, prompted by Gary and Bill, instructed Nick to enter the front room of the cabin, take off his uniform and all of his clothes, blindfold himself, then handcuff himself to a sturdy wooden beam in the cabin’s living room with his own handcuffs and wait for the “babes” to treat him to the time of his life. Officer Brandolino was shocked at this suggestion, but admitted he was super-horny, acknowledging that he was giving himself a squeeze through his tight motorcycle uniform pants at the thought of being serviced by two “foxy chicks”. “But, hey, dude, I mean naked? Handcuffed? What is this shit?” Officer Walker was forced to explain that the “babes” were “kinky” but “in a good way, these babes know how to make a dude feel good, real good”, that Officer Walker would be right in the next room, and “hey, what, you aren’t chicken of being tied up are you, dude?” “Negative” replied Officer Brandolino in copspeak, Nick confiding that “a chick wanted to cuff me once, but I wouldn’t let her…I mean did you like it Mark? Was it hot?” “Affirmative, good buddy, affirmative!” replied Officer Walker, giving the activity the cop seal of approval. Shit, thought Officer Brandolino, if it’s good enough for my boss, it’s good enough for me! Why should Mark have all the fun? Shit, it might be a trip not being in control for once, letting the chicks get him all hot-to-trot in his own cuffs, then of course releasing him upon his command and letting him fuck their brains out, yeah!! Should be hot, yeah!! thought Nick, again giving his big cock a squeeze through his uniform pants.
Sure enough in record time Motorcycle Officer Nick Brandolino had whirred his police motorcycle up to the cabin, well out of sight of the highway, and Nick’s spit-shined knee-boots were clicking up the steps to the cabin. Officer Brandolino entered the front room of the cabin. Just to be sure, Nick first knocked on the bedroom door and rattled the locked door, calling for Mark. Gary and Bill forced the still naked and blindfolded Officer Walker at gunpoint to shout that “yeah, everything’s cool, Nick, just make yourself at home like I told ya and the babes will be out shortly Just shout when you’re just like the way we discussed and the `babes’ will come out and do their stuff!”
To Officer Walker’s horror, however, Gary and Bill did not then free him but instead plopped duct tape over his mouth as Mark spluttered into the tape, making muffled threats to no avail. “We said we `might’ let you go asshole!” laughed Gary quietly.
Meanwhile, Gary and Bill avidly watched through the keyhole as Motorcycle Officer Nick Brandolino began to remove his uniform. Bill had already concealed a video camera in the front room of the cabin to record all the action, so they wouldn’t miss any of the performance. Officer Brandolino removed his uniform shirt and white tee shirt to reveal his dark, olive-skinned, muscular chest, jet-black hair fanning out from the center of his magnificent pectorals to spread out in a neat lawn over his perfect, pointed man-tits, then thinning into a line of hair over his laddered, very darkly sun-bronzed abdominals, before fanning out again as the hair disappeared into the confines of the Italian Stallion’s tight, striped motorcycle uniform pants. Nick reached up above his handsome, five-o’clock-shadowed, olive-skinned face to smooth his close-cropped jet-black-hair, revealing two heart-stopping, profusely-jet-black-haired sweaty armpits in the process. Nick then sat down to remove his shiny black knee-boots, tugging each off eagerly in his haste to ready himself for the “babes,” then peeled off his black socks revealing two gorgeous size-12, pink-soled feet the tops of which were lightly covered with manly jet-black hairs. Officer Brandolino then got up to unhitch his uniform pants and utility belt, removing his handcuffs from their leather case on his belt, then peeling the tight-fitting pants down over his magnificently proportioned, olive-skinned muscular legs which were nearly covered in coarse whorls of jet-black body hair, before neatly folding them next to his discarded uniform shirt.
Officer Brandolino was now down to his sparkling white cotton Calvin Klein shorts, his tight Italian ass outlined by the clinging cotton material, a thin line of sweat staining the crack of the seat of the sexy undershorts which his musky scent had no doubt permeated, most likely combined with the scent of the leather seat of the powerful police motorcycle which had been vibrating between his manly legs in the heat of the evening as he waited for speeders to pass. The stark white cotton of his whitie tighties were in total contrast to the rest of the magnificently proportioned Italian olive-skinned musculature, the proud conceited Officer Brandolino suddenly looking a little sheepish over being practically naked in a strange place and about to drop his drawers. Officer Brandolino looked almost shyly over the magnificent caps of his shining, olive-skinned muscular shoulders to convince himself that no one was watching (they were of course), whereupon Motorcycle Officer Nick Brandolino hooked two strong olive-skinned fingers into the rear waistband of his spiffy Calvins, bent over slightly and dragged down the last remnants of cloth covering his incredibly gorgeous, hunky bod, truly the stuff of which dreams were made, revealing his alabaster-firm and alabaster-white, tight, lightly hair-flecked ass which was split by a dark line of musky Italian jet-black fur, Officer Brandolino turning to reveal his huge cock and hairy bull-balls as he neatly folded his most intimate garment and placed his steamy Calvins atop the rest of his neatly stored uniform.
Officer Brandolino then located the heavy wooden beam running across the ceiling of the cabin’s living room and found that my reaching up high he could just manage to cuff himself to the beam and his handsome feet would just barely touch the floor. Officer Brandolino found the blindfold which had been left for him and placed it securely over his handsome, dark eyes, and thick, manly eyebrows, then reached up high over his head revealing those magnificently-haired, sweaty armpits again and clicked his wrists into his own locked handcuffs. Nick then began shouting for the “babes” as instructed.
Unbeknownst to the blindfolded, naked young law enforcement officer, however, the horny Italian Stallion was not about to be joined in reality by any “babes” at all, but rather by Gary and Bill. Gary and Bill made a business about noisily entering the room, loudly opening the door from the bedroom to let Officer Brandolino know that he was no longer alone.
Almost immediately, Officer Brandolino was surprised to feel that his hanging blindfolded bondage made him feel somehow more naked than he had ever felt in his life, vulnerable, yet also simultaneously sexually excited at what was going to happen to him. The very pull of his bonds made him flex his magnificently toned olive-skinned muscles, straining each muscle group sexily, including his privates, which were already stirring with the always-hot-to-trot Italian Stallion’s anticipatory sex-heat, hot Italian blood coursing through his mighty veins to fill his tingling Italian salami, his sex organ already swaying with rising excitement before either of the “babes” had even touched him, so great was his sexual tension. Hmmm, promising, thought Gary and Bill.
Gary and Bill silently approached the young law enforcement officer as his magnificent, denuded body hung before them, awaiting whatever abuse and/or pleasure they cared to inflict upon it, Officer Brandolino only anticipating some cool foreplay before they freed him and let them fuck their airhead brains out with his giant Italian fuckstick. Gary and Bill first attached a wide-spread spreader bar over both of the horny State trooper’s hairy ankles, then delighted in just sniffing the captive cop from head to toe, Officer Brandolino somewhat disconcerted; shit these “babes” must be really kinky, thought Nick, they fuckin’ are getting’ off on sniffing my hot bod, all sweaty from working in the hot evening air in my tight uniform-weird, but kinda hot- God knew he deserved to be worshipped!! He was God’s gift to women, he couldn’t help it if he was an Adonis now could he??
Gary and Bill proceeded to sniff each of Officer Brandolino’s hairy, sweaty armpits, inhaling their sharp, manly odor, savoring the musky scent of his lush pubic forest of crotch hairs, his musky, hairy bull balls, and the truly wondrous leather and musk scent of his sweaty jet-black-furred asscrack and hair-haloed virgin asshole where sweat and the leather seat of his motorcycle had combined into a heady, manly aroma. This dude was “all man” for sure. The “babes” even sniffed the length of each of his size 12 feet, inhaling the funky odor of his tootsies after being encased in leather knee-boots in the heat. Gary and Bill even proceeded to lick the officer’s feet and suck his toes, sliding their tasters over the pink soles of his big, sweaty feet, Officer Brandolino oooing and ahhing in response, telling the “babes” “Yeah, do it, lick my fuckin’ cop feet, suck my toes, yeah who’s the fuckin’ King of the World, huh? Who deserves to be worshipped more than this big, strapping cop, huh?” as Officer Brandolino felt a surge of power course through his manly loins, his big Italian fuckstick pulsating in response, as more hot blood rushed to his big salami, making it lengthen and harden all the more. Shit, this was really cool, thought Officer Brandolino, these hot “babes” really know how to turn a guy on. These broads are totally turned on to my hot cop body, and who could fuckin’ blame them? You can’t argue with buff perfection, now fuckin’ can you??
Gary and Bill then proceeded to blow their hot breath all over Officer Brandolino’s hotshot cop body, little staccato bursts of hot air gusted over his manly sweaty armpits, blowing soft breezes over the sensitive flesh of the young law enforcement officer’s exposed armpits, making the profuse hair sway in the breeze, and causing the stalwart recruiting-poster-come-to-life to flinch at the sudden unexpected contact and then sigh in contentment. The “babes” then descended to blow gusts of hot breath over each of his hair-haloed man-tits, their ministrations causing his sensitive tits to harden and form little points of volcanic sexual pleasure, the little gusts causing the tufts of body hair around his tits to swirl in the breeze, Gary and Bill’s hot lips and tongues coming within a millimeter of contact with those red-hot tits, Officer Brandolino longing for the “babes” to take each of his horny little man-tits between their teeth and gnaw and nibble on them. To his disappointment this did not happen, Gary and Bill being content for the time being to simply arouse the bound stud, and doing their best to keep him in full anticipation of an all-out sexual assault, while only giving him teasing foretastes of what might come later-make the dude suffer, make him so horny and frustrated that the dude won’t know what hit him!
Gary and Bill therefore descended further down the awesome length of the captive cop’s bound body, less than inch away from its musky, salty surface, teasing every inch of the conceited cop/rapist’s sensitive epidermis with their hot gusts of air Gary blew little hot gusts into Officer Brandolino’s sexy, hair-haloed navel and all over his laddered, six-pack olive-skinned abdominals, teasing the glistening olive surface of his powerful abs and making the dude arch his back in rising sex-heat, his big Italian fuckstick throbbing with desire and itself swaying sexily in the hot night air, the big Italian salami jerking in response to the delicate arousal of every inch of his crawling olive skin, Officer Brandolino sighing in astonished intense arousal, two big drips of mansweat escaping from the depths of his upraised, manly, hairy armpits and slowly dripping down, down, his muscular sun-bronzed sides and into his luxuriant pubes, where the sweat drips combined with those already accumulated in the moist tropical rainforest of Officer Brandolino’s he-man crotch. “Aaaaaahhhh, yeahhhhhhh!!!!! sighed the sexually aroused young law enforcement officer, ecstatically anticipating the “babes” going lower, down towards his big throbbing Italian fuckstick to no doubt slide their lips over the macho cop’s aching fuckprong and give it the attention it increasingly desired and needed.
To Officer Brandolino’s shock, however, the “babes” did not envelop his hot-to-trot cock with their sexy lipsticked lips, but merely continued to blow their hot breath about a millimeter from his throbbing fuckstick, the teasing warm gusts of air causing the young stud’s cop prick to jump and bounce in response, the tiny gusts teasing the very glans, tip and pee hole of his expanding, swelling member until its blood-engorgement was utterly complete and profound, reaching rock-hard, painful intensity, a tiny drop of pre-cum glistening at the very tip of the frustrated dude’s horny, pulsating prick. “C’mon you broads, don’t fuckin’ tease me so much!!” begged Officer Brandolino. “C’mon, girls, go down on me, c’mon give me some head, you bitches” but all he heard or felt was silence except for the hot gusts of breath. Gary and Bill relished the musky “man’s man” scent of the bound hotshot cop’s cock and hairy bull-balls as they continued to drive Officer Brandolino up the wall, blowing hot gusts of air over his hairy, musky bull-balls, temporarily drying the heady ballsweat off his manly nutsacs, making his nut oysters churn unbearably within the hairy, leathery skin of his studly bull-balls, his baby-makers longing for their release, and his rockhard cock jerking as if jolted by electricity in response to the teasing arousal. While Gary blew his hot breath on Officer Brandolino’s hairy crotch, Bill went behind the captive cop to first blow his hot breath all over the circumference of each of his lightly-jet-black-hair-flecked assglobes, causing a crop of sexually-charged goosebumps to appear on the sensitive skin of the hotshot cop’s ass, only for Bill to spread those manly asscheeks and expose the deeply-furred, musky depths of the bound young law enforcement officer’s asscrack and hair-holed virgin asshole. Officer Brandolino couldn’t believe what whores these “babes” were. Shit, were they even going to explore his fucking asscrack, his manly shitter?? Damn! He’d tried to get broads to play with his butt before, but they always refused. Shit, maybe these crazy broads would even rim him-that would be a trip! Imagine a chick’s tongue teasing your fuckin’ shithole!! That would be the ultimate body worship, and God knew his Italian Stallion bod was worthy of just such adoration; Christ, he was “the man”; every woman’s dream come true-it was only fitting for him to be worshipped like the fuckin’ God he was!
Bill proceeded to blow hot gusts of air into Officer Brandolino’s furry asscrack and over his hair-haloed, virgin asshole, the hot gusts making incredibly erotic contact with the pink button of the horny law enforcement officer’s most private and heavily guarded orifice, causing the stalwart young cop to sigh and groan with lust, while Gary blew gusts of his own hot breath all over his studly crotch, the combined effect making his cock jump and twitch and ooze pre-cum as it swayed rock-hard in frustration, Officer Brandolino’s intense sexual tension building to an unbearable degree. “These broads are gonna give me a case of fuckin’ blue balls” thought Officer Brandolino, all the more determined to demand to be let go soon-enough of this foreplay, let me fuck you bitches’ brains out! mused the jaded law enforcement officer, always accustomed to having his way and calling the sexual shots. Little did he know…
Gary and Bill completed their teasing arousal of the captive cop’s hunky body by blowing their breath over the whorls of jet black leg hair on each of his magnificent, sun-bronzed muscular legs, parting the hairs with their breath and causing more erotic goosebumps all over the bound stud’s body, only to proceed to blow their breath all over the tops and bottoms of his cute, sexy feet, between his toes and over the soles and heels of his jumpy tootsies, driving him wild and making his hard cock jump all the more.
Finally, Officer Brandolino decided that he had had enough of this teasing foreplay/bondage shit and was ready to be freed so that he could fuck the “babes”. “OK you broads, let me go now. I’m through with this foreplay shit! C’mon, unlock these cuffs so I can fuck you broads silly. You know you cows want a ride on my big, hard Italian fuckstick, don’t cha?? Huh?”
The “babes’” answer to Officer Brandolino’s pleas was for each of them to approach the blindfolded, captive cop with tapering feathers, Gary insinuating each of two feathers into each of Officer Brandolino’s hopelessly exposed, hairy, dripping armpits, gliding the feathers with devastating effect deep into the depths of each of the cop’s hairy pits, while Bill suddenly trailed his two feathers over the dude’s hair-haloed man-tits, then raked them down his olive-skinned sides and ribs, causing the shocked Officer Brandolino to gasp and yell `HEY CUT THAT THE FUCK OUT YOU CRAZY BROADS!!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YA DOING, YOU BIMBOS??? HEH HEH HEH, C’MON CUT IT OUT I SAY!!! MARK!!! C’MON GET IN HERE, DUDE, THESE FUCKIN’ BITCHES ARE OUT OF THEIR FUCKIN’ GOURDS!!! HEH HEH HEH, CUT IT OUT I SAID, GODDAMIT!!!! ARGHHHHHH!!!! AIEEEEEEE!!!! STOPPPP!!!!! NO MORE!!!!!!!! MARK, GET YOUR SORRY ASS IN HERE AND LET ME GO!!!! ARE THESE BITCHES IN ON SOME LITTLE JOKE OF YOURS OR SOMETHIN’? C’MON, I’M SORRY I TICKLED YA IN THE GYM, MAN!!!!! NOW C’MON, MARK, GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!!! THESE BITCHES ARE STARTIN’ TO WORRY ME!!! C’MON, LET ME GOOOOO!!!! HEH HEH HEH!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!!!!! AIEEEE!!!! NO!!! STOPPPPP!!!! NO MORE!!!!! HELPPPPPPP!!!!!!”
Gary and Bill said nothing in response to Officer Brandolino’s comical outburst, and merely intensified their tickle torture, using their feathers to tease his hair-haloed man-tits, causing them to rise up like little cocks, hot Italian Stallion blood coursing through the bound cop’s muscular sexually tense body and gathering with erotic intensity right at the tips of his sensitive man-tits, electric currents of rising lust firing through his pent-up body and shooting down from his tits to his manly cock and hairy bull-balls. While Gary teased his tits, Bill was simultaneously teasing the bound young law enforcement officer’s sides and ribs and then over the moist tropical rainforest of the hunky stud’s luxuriant jet-black sweaty pubes, teasing the feathers over the line of demarcation between his luxuriant pubes and the flat, olive-skinned lower portion of the bound cop’s laddered abdominals, causing Officer Brandolino to gasp in erotic torment at the sudden unexpected contact on one of his most sensitive areas, then sliding one feather over and into the wiry thatch of manly pubic hair, parting the sex hair with the feather to tease the bound stud. Bill also used another feather to tease the very tip of the captive cop’s erect cock using each frond of the maddening feather-tip to wickedly tease the glans and cock head of the young law enforcement officer’s rampant boner until he was squealing with lust and again demanding to be freed to fuck the “babes,” to no avail, as bill alternately slid one feather over the cop’s swinging bull-balls, savoring their musky aroma, as Bill deliberately over-stimulated the captive Italian Stallion’s hairy, swinging bull-balls, causing his squirming nut-oysters to gyrate inside his manly, hairy nutsacs and causing his big cop-cock to pulsate and grow even harder and more aching with the desire to free his baby-making nut oysters from their red-hot confinement deep in the ballsy stud’s blue balls.
Meanwhile, Gary approached the struggling, naked young law enforcement officer from behind, relishing the salty, musky body odor of the excited lawman’s body as he stood very close to the suspended cop’s broad, smooth, olive-skinned back and used his feathers, toothbrushes and his ten twitching, educated fingers to delve into Officer Brandolino’s, hairy, sweaty armpits, along his muscular olive-skinned back and spine, as well as madly diving into the bound State Trooper’s exposed, vulnerable sides and ribs, driving the captive cop up the wall with tickle torture and forced sexual arousal, while Bill continued to tease the dude’s cock and balls with feathers, causing Officer Brandolino to moan, mewl, squeal and beg as the tickle torture drove him into a total tickle frenzy, desperately aroused and dying to cum.
Gary then delved one feather down the furry crack of the naked lawman’s humpy, hair-flecked ass while lightly caressing the firm, alabaster-white globes of his manly cop ass, giving the proud young officer more goosebumps over the circumference of those firm, manly globes, and causing him to sigh and shudder with sexual desire, Officer Brandolino thinking one of the sexy “babes” was playing with his manly butt, then oooing and ahhing as the feather was trailed down the length of Officer Brandolino’s furry asscrack, only to teasingly circle the pink, hair-haloed virgin asshole of the pent-up young law enforcement officer, circling around and around the cop’s virgin shitter while Bill twirled his feathers around and around the stud’s peehole, glans and cockhead and tickled his hairy bull-balls, until Officer Brandolino was losing his mind, out of his fuckin’ gourd with unsatisfied lust, unconsciously grinding his manly buttcheeks back onto the feather, sucking the tip of the feather into his butch hole, then desperately thrusting his cockhead and glans onto Bill’s teasing feather while enjoying the pleasurable feel of the other feather teasing his pent-up hairy bull-balls, teasing each drawn-up nutsac and leaving his cum churning volcanically within the lawman’s big balls, so close and yet so far.
Officer Brandolino mewled with undisguised lust, squealing from the tickling and oooing and ahhhing to the delicious feel of having his bully-boy butt and cock and balls teased and aroused, Nick alternately begging for them to stop tickling and teasing him and begging them to let him go or let him cum, he wanted to fuck the “babes” with his giant Italian fuckstick, drive that giant salami with his cute humpy little cop butt and fuck their brains out, to no avail.
After several more minutes of tickling and teasing, Gary and Bill abruptly stopped stimulating the captive cop’s hunky body, silently departing into the bedroom and closing the door as Officer Brandolino called out “Hey what the fuck?? C’mon, you broads, you can’t leave me hangin’ like this!!! Let me go!!! C’mon I wanna fuck ya, ya dumb broads!!! C’mon, enough of this tickling teasing shit, I wanna get my rocks off!!! Where the fuck are you bitches going??? Hey, Mark!!!! C’mon enough of this payback shit!!!”
Bill had already transported the gurney he had found in their paramedic “landlord’s” outbuilding into the bedroom and Gary and Bill proceeded to load the naked State Trooper Mark Walker onto the gurney at gunpoint, only to re-bind his wrists and ankles to the gurney. They then slowly rolled the cursing, struggling young State Trooper, whose mouth was still duct-taped shut but whose blindfold had been removed, into the living room of the cabin, carefully rolling the butch young State Trooper’s headfirst through the towering trunks of each of his fellow State Trooper’s hairy, olive-skinned legs, and over the slight impediment of Officer Brandolino’s spreader bar, first slowly rolling State Trooper Walker’s horrified head right under his fellow law enforcement officer’s hairy bull balls and still rampant cock, within sniffing distance, Officer Walker’s eyes flying open in horror at his close proximity to his butch cop bud’s engorged reproductive organs, and gurgling wildly into his duct-tape gag.
Hearing the commotion and gurgling, fellow State Trooper Nick Brandolino demanded to know “What the fuck is goin’ on? What are you broads doing now?? Let me go, NOW!!! Where the fuck is Mark anyway?” queried the denuded young lawman, wildly thrashing his blindfolded head form side to side as if this would somehow help him to locate his bud. Little did he know his bud was right between his manly legs, staring at his bud’s hard cock and being forced to get huge lungfuls of his bud’s musky ball scent in order to breathe!!
To give State Trooper Nick Brandolino a clearer picture, Gary and Bill suddenly removed his blindfold, causing Officer Brandolino to blink in disbelief as he suddenly focused on the fact that there were two unknown guys in the room, no “babes” to be seen, only to look down briefly to be mortified to see his bud State Trooper Mark Walker tied to a gurney balls-ass naked between his own hairy, manly legs! “What the fuck??!!! Who the fuck are you guys??? Where did the `babes’ go???? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??? WE’RE POLICE OFFICERS!!!! LET US GO IMMEDIATELY!!!!”
“There never were any `babes’ you dumbfuck Dago asshole! My friend and I were working you over, stud, whattaya think about that, huh? Your cock knows what it likes, and so does your bud’s!! Relax, it’s all on video tape to show to the rest of your fellow State troopers, show them how you got off being manhandled by other guys, yeah they’ll like to see that for sure!!”
Reality sinking in, State Trooper Nick Brandolino realized in horror that these fuckers had just let him believe they were “babes”, that it was they who were tickling and teasing his studly body all along!!! Feeling like he was about to puke, but totally enraged, the roaring Italian Stallion screamed in outrage at the deception “YOU FUCKIN’ SLIMEBALL FAGGOTS!!! YOU FUCKIN’ PLAYED WITH MY COCK, MY BALLS, MY ASSHOLE, YOU FUCKIN’ PANSIES!!!! SHIT, AND THE SAME WITH MARK, TOO??? YOU FUCKIN SLIMEBALLS-WE’RE GONNA SLICE YOUR FAGGOT BALLS OFF AND FEED THEM TO YOU, YOU FUCKERS!!! AN ASSAULT ON A PEACE OFFICER IS 20 YEARS GUARANTEED!!!! LET US THE FUCK OUT OF THESE CUFFS AND SHIT RIGHT THIS INSTANT OR WE’RE GONNA, WE’RE GONNAÖ.”
“You’re gonna” what, asshole? asked Gary. “Gonna tell your superiors how you and Mark force women motorist to have sex with you in order to avoid going to jail or getting a ticket? Gonna tell your bosses how you plant drugs on them to threaten them, huh? huh? Yeah we’ve got all that on video too, asshole,” Gary partially bluffed, “I’m sure your superiors would love to see those videos, love all the lawsuits they’ll be hit with due to you assholes’ sexual harassment, yeah, just wouldn’t they like to see that!”
State Trooper Nick Brandolino’s jaw dropped at the revelation of this information. Shit, these faggot fuckers literally had them by their big butch bull-balls, had them by the short and curlies literally and figuratively. Nick was left to grouse and curse and threaten to no avail, but he knew that these fuckers had them. Shit, the goddamned fags had them by their balls! Un-fuckin’-believable!!!
Worse, Gary and Bill taunted the big, butch State Troopers, telling them that Gary and Bill were going to make them feel “fine, real fine, gonna show you what it’s like to be sexually harassed, see how you like it”. This caused State Trooper Nick Brandolino to scoff and laugh sarcastically, “You’re out of luck, pansy-boys. Our equipment only works for chicks, understand? Fuckin’ waste of timeÖI mean it was one thing when I thought you were chicks, that was different, but now I can see you’re guys, and fruits to boot, there’s no fuckin’ way you’re gonna get a rise out of our butch cop peckers, you goddamned, cocksuckin’ faggots!!” State Trooper Mark Walker’s duct-tape gag was removed whereupon he let fly with a stream of futile curses and taunts that “you slimeball faggots better not lay a fuckin’ queer-ass hand on either of us, or you’ll wish you girls hadn’t been born when we get through chopping off your Nelly little gay balls!”
Gary and Bill’s response was to each approach the bound, glaring State Troopers their movements followed by the law enforcement officers’ malevolent eyes, Nick and Mark openly laughing at the futility of even trying to get a response out of their hyper-hetero hunky bods. Gary approached Officer Brandolino while Bill hovered over the strapped-to-a-gurney Officer Walker, Gary and Bill each using the tapering fronds of feathers to tease each of the mocking cop’s glans and cockheads, swirling the tickling feather fronds around and around the captive law enforcement officer’s big cockheads, teasing their pee-holes and the sensitive undersides of their cocks. Despite their best efforts, the young hotshot cops were obviously and visibly dismayed that they were feeling sexually aroused by these unwanted pleasurable attentions, the fiendish fags seeming to know just where to aim their tickling feathers to get the most exaggerated response from the butch hetero law enforcement officers. When Gary and Bill used other feathers to simultaneously goose and stimulate the captive cops’ hairy bull-balls and trial same down over and into their hairy virgin assholes, their cocks visibly jumped and hardened, filling with blood as their traitorous hetero peckers filled with blood and they began to involuntarily groan in rising sexual excitement until each had full-fledged boners, Officers Walker and Brandolino cursing and swearing and ordering the “fuckin’ faggots” to stop, that OK, maybe they made a point, but the cops were just thinking about fuckin’ their girlfriends, that was all, now cut out this shit and let us go!!!!
Instead, Gary and Bill merely intensified the teasing tickling, alternating the arousal of the lawmen’s’ hunky, musky privates with unexpected forays into their exposed hairy armpits, hair-haloed man-tits, and sensitive ribs and sides, even venturing down to their bare feet and tickling their soles, heels and curling toes. State Trooper Mark Walker’s eyes bugged in horror at how his cop bud’s huge prick grew larger with every practiced feather-stroke of their avenging duo, fellow State Trooper Nick Brandolino’s cock pulsing with Italian Stallion blood and his prick tip oozing a tiny drop of pre-cum. Bill couldn’t resist shaking that big Italian fuckstick causing the drop of pre-cum to fly off the tip of Officer Brandolino’s straining cock and land right between Officer Walker’s flaring bull-nostrils, then oozing into his left nostril, only to be smeared completely over the shocked lawman’s sun-bronzed nose. Worse, in order to breathe, Officer Walker couldn’t help but to be forced to smell the musky, salty sweat of his fellow cop’s swaying, hairy bull-balls as they rocked precariously right over the horrified young law enforcement officer’s handsome face, and, as the evil duo tickled the shit out of the hunky Officer Brandolino, the Italian Stallion was forced to jerk and flinch to try to avoid the contact on his most sensitive skin, causing those big bull-balls and/or the wiry hairs that grew profusely all over the young stud’s musky bull-balls, to brush over Officer Walker’s handsome face, tickling his proud nose or brushing right over his wind-burned lips, Officer Walker’s hot gusts of outraged breath inadvertently goosing and arousing his fellow officer as his mouth and nose were forced to make contact with his bud’s lips and nose. Officer Brandolino jumped wildly when Gary took the blunt end of a feather and used it to clean out the fuzz in Officer Brandolino’s navel, causing him to yelp and pull down in his bondage, not only making Officer Brandolino’s desperate fuckstick pulse as if an electric shock had been delivered to it, but also causing his hairy, sweaty bull-balls to unexpectedly descend towards Officer Walker’s mouth, whose mouth was then wide open due to his feet having suddenly been tickled again by Bill, the net result being that Officer Walker suddenly had his fellow lawman’s hairy musky bull-balls plopped right into his open mouth. Officer Walker valiantly used his manly tongue to attempt to expel the repellent invaders, but only succeeded in running his taster over the salty, musky surface of his fellow officer’s hairy bull-balls, being forced to taste and smell his butch bud’s big nutsacs, which only made Officer Brandolino’s baby-making nut oysters squirm all the more in his hot balls. Officer Walker was relieved when further tickling caused Officer Brandolino to involuntarily jerk upwards again, except that his bud’s big, drooling fuckstick suddenly charged towards his flaring nostrils, his glistening pee-hole striking his nose, then right between his horrified eyes before Officer Brandolino’s out-of-control body jerked upwards and back in Officer Walker’s line of sight but at least out of his hetero face!
To liven things up, Gary and Bill maneuvered the gurney further back so that when Officer Brandolino was forced to descend again from reacting to his intense tickling, the Italian Stallion’s hairy virgin ass hole, furry asscrack and hair-flecked asscheeks came dangerously close to Officer Walker’s horrified face as Officer Walker himself was inappropriately laughing his head off from being tickled himself, Officer Walker being forced to breathe in his bud’s musky ass scent. To Officer Walker’s horror, Officer Brandolino shrieked from a sudden unexpected hairy armpit tickling inflicted by Gary and involuntarily reacted by squatting his hunky ass right down onto his bud State Trooper Mark Walker’s nose, his hairy virgin asshole making a direct hit onto Officer Walker’s outraged nose, Officer Brandolino inadvertently nearly suffocating his bud with his musky, sweaty ass scent as his furry asscrack slid back and forth right over his bud’s nose as he reacted to the intense tickling.
Officer Walker was relieved when the devilish duo pulled the gurney back through the Italian Stallion’s olive skinned hairy legs, the sides of his face being tickled by his bud’s wiry leg hairs, only to pull him until Officer Walker’s own crotch was just below where Officer Brandolino was suspended over it.
Gary and Bill then intensified their teasing torture of the young law enforcement officers’ privates, teasing their glans and cockheads, pee-holes, hairy bull-balls and hairy virgin assholes with feathers, again and again bringing the horny studs to the brink of orgasm, the forced orgasms they had claimed would be impossible, only for Gary and Bill to back off again and again. Gary and Bill kept this up for several agonizing minutes, forcing the studs to literally beg for relief, again and again teasing them relentlessly, feather stroking their hair-haloed man tits in concentric circles while their partner teased their glans, cockheads and assholes, their exposed, hairy sweat-drenched armpits, ribs and sides were teased, and the diabolical duo even trailed their feathers annoyingly right over the dudes’ flaring nostrils, eyes, lips, and round and round and into their ears, teasing their sensitive earlobes and driving them up the wall with arousal, while simultaneously teasing their hair-haloed man-tits and cocks, balls and assholes.
When Gary and Bill were satisfied that they had tickled the deserving cop/rapists into near dementia, and feared they would have a heart attack, the duo suddenly increased the feather-friction all over their exposed, hairy bodies, concentrating on teasing their cockheads, glans and pee-holes, hairy bull-balls and hair-haloed virgin assholes, until Gary and Bill each leaned out and suddenly chomped down on each of the young law enforcement officer’s right, hair-holed tits and chomped down on their erect nubbins while they intensely feather-stroked the very tips of their penises, triggering intense orgasms in each, Officers Walker and Brandolino throwing their heads back in the throes of inescapable orgasm. Officer Brandolino screamed out. his mouth wide open and his uvula visibly swinging at the back of his throat, as he “discharged his weapon” first, the mere feather fronds triggering a giant whoosh of solid white cum, a huge rope of intensely pressurized cop-jizz that erupted like the Fourth of July out of his big, pulsing Italian fuckstick, volley after volley of white-hot cum spraying out of his pee-hole, bursting and separating into smaller little explosions of cum, spraying cum all over Officer Walker’s hairy chest, into his sweaty hairy armpits and right into his nose, eyes and mouth, his crew-cutted head and over his head into the room beyond.
When his bud collapsed from exhaustion from his intense cum, Officer Brandolino inadvertently sagged in his bonds, his humpy furry asscrack making contact with the tip of Officer Walker’s cockhead, his bud’s wiry pubic asscrack fur combining with the feather fronds on the tip of his engorged penis to trigger State trooper Mark Walker’s own intense orgasm, Officer Walker’s cock exploding blast after funky blast of highly pressurized cum from up out of his pent-up, hairy bull balls, blast after blast exploding right up onto Officer Brandolino’s smooth, olive-skinned muscular back, Officer Walker’s huge prick happily sliding through the hairy, sweaty crack of his fellow State trooper’s manly ass, the ass fur inadvertently coaxing more and more cop jizz out of Officer Walker’s big balls, as further volleys erupted like a volcano, spewing ropes of cop cum high in the air from the top of Officer Brandolino’s furry crack, blasting up into the air and up into Officer Brandolino’s own close-cropped hair, and beyond.
The two collapsed officers lay where they had been for several minutes, so out-of-it and overwhelmed by the most intense orgasms of their entire lives that they failed to even realize that Officer Walker’s hard cock still slid happily in the crack of Officer Brandolino’s ass. Gary and Bill were even able to release the exhausted Officer Brandolino’s hairy wrists from his handcuffs, causing him to collapse his hairy, naked body and flop head-to-head (and cockhead-to-cockhead, natch) right down atop his bud’s sweat-and-cum-soaked hairy body. Gary and Bill merely re-cuffed Officer Brandolino to the gurney on top of his bud where they seemed to drift off into a contented state for several minutes before realizing their new predicament.
Gary and Bill then re-tickled the studs to embarrassing further orgasms, the tickling of their bare, pink-soled size-12 feet, pits, tits, ribs and sides causing their cocks to re-harden and slide against each other, especially when they combined the tickling with a well-deserved fire-engine-red spanking of Officer Brandolino’s alabaster-firm hair flecked humpy ass. All that bumping and grinding on the groaning gurney combined with the intense tickling brought the deserving cop/rapists to orgasm again and again. The two dudes were so slick with new and old cum, sweat and tears that Gary and Bill wondered if the two butch State Troopers could ever be un-glued!
When they finally tired of toying with their deserving victims, Gary and Bill simply rolled them out onto the side of the highway and dialed 911 on their cell phone to report a “strange sighting” on the highway to the State Troopers office.
Since it was now Sunday, Gary and Bill still had one day left of their weekend, so Gary and Bill returned to the cabin. They knew the incriminating videos would buy Officer Walker’s and Brandolino’s silence, though how they would explain how they ended up bound naked to a gurney covered in cum to their other cop buds when they found them was anyone’s guess. But appropriately embarrassing and humiliating!
On Sunday afternoon, Gary and Bill were surprised when someone unlocked the cabin door, letting in the unbearable heat of the day. It turned out to be Scott Woodward, the paramedic husband of the couple in full paramedic uniform. The 26-year-old paramedic was a 6′ 3″, handsome, closely-cropped dirty-blond-haired stud. He sure looked fine as he sweated in his tight-fitting uniform which emphasized his hunky build. Neither Gary nor Bill had seen Scott before, since the rental was arranged over the telephone with his wife. Gary and Bill introduced themselves. “You guys brothers? Cousins?” inquired Scott. Gary and Bill saw no reason to clue him in yet, so they ignored the question. Scott seemed to assume they were one or the other. It seemed that Scott had been called back from vacation early when a comrade was himself injured in a motorcycle accident. He worked a long shift the day before and had just got off work and had forgot that the renters would not be gone yet. He had dropped his wife off at her mother’s the day before. It seemed “the wife” as he called her, was none too pleased at having their vacation cut short.
Scott gratuitously announced that “Thank God Mike Porter showed up this afternoon. That meant we had one more paramedic to fill in for the one injured in the motorcycle accident. And just when we had a call from Storm Lake-sounded like a couple of fags and one had injured himself. Thank God I didn’t have to respond to that one! I hate having to treat fuckin’ fags, they’re all full of AIDS, ya know, serves the fuckers right!! My buds and me used to beat the shit out `em when they’d come up from the City. Next thing ya know the mountains won’t be safe for normal guys like us, right?!” Scott lifted his short-sleeve uniform-clad right arm with the paramedic insignia sewed to it sleeve and crinkled his handsome sun-bronzed nose. “Whew! I fuckin’ stink- fuckin’ hot day. Mind if I take a shower and crash here for awhile? I know the place is yours till tomorrow, but is it OK?”
“Yeah, that’s fine, the bedroom’s yours for the rest of the afternoon” said Gary with a secret wink at Bill. After Scott went into the bedroom and closed the door, Gary and Bill slammed the front door as if they were leaving for a day’s outing, but then were right at the keyhole to watch as Paramedic Scott Woodward, now thinking he was alone in the cabin, stripped out of his uniform, removing his uniform shirt and regulation white tee shirt to reveal his sun-bronzed muscular hairy chest and the depths of his sweaty, dirty-blond-haired armpits, then removed his uniform pants and Calvins to reveal his cute, bare white, little virgin hubby ass split by a fine line of dirty-blond hair, his pink virgin hubby hole winking at them through the keyhole, and revealing his huge cock and dirty-blond-haired crotch and hairy bull-balls.
Gary and Bill listened as he sung in the hissing shower, then went into the bedroom, set up a hidden video in the utility closet off the bedroom and sniffed the prejudiced paramedic’s sweaty, discarded uniform and underwear before they heard the water being turned off, whereupon they retreated to the living room. They watched from the key hole as Scott emerged from the shower, in all his magnificent glory. To their surprise, Scott began to flex his muscles in the mirror over the bureau, one sun-bronzed hand going down to his crotch, where he began jerking his huge meat!! Scott was soon flaked out naked on the bed, pounding his paramedic pecker to beat the band. After allowing a few more minutes of this, Gary and Bill suddenly noisily entered the bedroom and said “Oh!” as Scott scrambled to futilely cover up his jerk-off session. `Fuck I didn’t hear you come in!” shouted Scott, blushing. “Obviously,” noted Gary wryly, “looks like you’ve been busy, dude!” Scott blushed and laughed `Yeah, you guys caught me! Sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it dude” said Bill, “we all do it sometimes” Gary and Bill suddenly approached the bed however, saying “yeah, but what would you wife think, holdin’ out on her like this, wasting your spunk, huh? I think we should give you the punishment you deserve on her behalf! Yeah, just like we used to do to each other as kids if we got caught with our salami in our hands!’
To Scott’s horror, Gary and Bill flipped the paramedic onto his six-pack abs and proceeded to spank his bare ass until it was flaming, fire-engine red and stinging, his still rock-hard cock sliding sensuously against the smooth bedspread, making it even harder. Gary announced that “I think he needs a little more convincing” suddenly flipping Scott back down on his burning backside and snapping Officer Brandolino’s souvenir handcuffs over each of the paramedic’s wrists, his sweaty, dirty-blond-haired armpits totally exposed. The then roped the horrified and protesting stud’s ankles to the bottom of the bed.
When Scott realized he’d been tied up by a “pair of fags” it was too late. Gary and Bill spent the rest of the day tickling, teasing and cum-denying the errant prejudiced hubby till they finally let him blast his load into his own surprised face.
On Sunday night, Gary and Bill roared off back to the City with their videos. It had been quite a weekend!! Gary and Bill thought they would like to return to the mountains again soon. They really liked the wildlife there!
THE END
Richard
Posted on 15 June 2014 | 10:35 pm
An arrogant straight dude gets a lot more than he bargained for when he answers a “Women Seeking Men” ad on craigslist in our latest hot story from Richard.
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Craigslist Straight Dude Tricked/Jackson – Part 1
by Richard
Amber Stewart and her roommate, Ryan Parker, shrieked with glee as they perused one of several responses to the ad Amber had placed on “Craigslist” under “women seeking men.”
The 25-year-old Amber loved her gay roommate Ryan like a sister, and had decided to indulge Ryan in his fantasy of secretly seducing a “straight” man, preferably one who was both arrogantly conceited and totally hot. Amber liked the idea of helping 22-year-old Ryan because she herself loathed that sort of man and thought it would be extremely amusing to lure such a man with her own “model-quality” charms (completely true, but Amber and Ryan had fun incorporating “model-quality” into the Craigslist ad description of her) under the guise of “kinky sex play” involving blindfolds and bondage whereupon the blindfolded, bound straight guy would in fact then (unknowingly!) be “serviced” by none other than Ryan himself! The duo experimented with having Ryan shaving his face as close as possible and both thought that their horny arrogant “victim” would have no idea it was Ryan, and not Amber, attending to his needs.
The subject of the duo’s amusement was a second e-mail and photo attachments sent by one “Jackson Colby” in response to Amber’s ad. They mutually agreed that the 26-year-old Jackson was by far their best response to date, but his most recent e-mail and photos made it clear that he would be perfect as their first “victim”. Amber’s ad purported to seek extremely fit men with an interest in mildly kinky sex play involving their “light” bondage, with an interest in erotic tickling or “light” spanking as a “plus”. The ad featured pictures of a fully-clad Amber that accentuated her curvaceous beauty yet captured her overall refined, “model-quality” good looks.
Jacksons’s first response had included a photo attachment of a handsome young man in a business suit and tie, the well-tailored suit managing to suggest a buff, toned musculature underneath. Jackson had further boasted of his “prowess with women” and went on at some length about his advanced degrees, “entrepreneurial success” and basically suggested that he was God’s gift to women. He did manage to give Amber the extreme compliment that she had the “model-quality” looks he demanded from his sex partners, implying he would be doing her a favor by having sex with her. What piqued the duo’s interest in particular was Jackson’s admission that he was totally turned on by the idea of some “light” kinky sex “foreplay” especially with someone who looked like Amber, so long as, of course, it led to “actual sex”. He even expressed an interest in the erotic tickling and spanking, though indicated he had never experienced either, but found it profoundly exciting to contemplate, being used to being in “control” as a savvy business executive, and finding it a “turn-on” of letting a “model-quality chick” like Amber take control of “servicing his needs”.
Amber’s reply had coyly suggested that Jackson send some photos that were more revealing. Unlike some of the other (completely gross) replies which had attached photos of nasty old guys with their hard cocks jutting out, Ryan and Amber surmised that Jackson was not the sort to send anything actually X-rated. Ryan and Amber knew Jackson was “the one” when they perused the series of photos of a shirtless, darkly handsome Jackson in board shorts, another of him sunbathing around a pool at a tropical resort with his hands clasped behind his head in a King-Of-The-World pose, next to some blonde bimbo whose implants threatened to pop our of her bikini top, and one of him again shirtless hosing down a shiny new Mercedes roadster convertible.
Ryan practically drooled over the shirtless pics of Jackson which revealed his tanned, buff musculature, darkly hairy chest with just the right amount of body hair, sexy armpits, muscular hairy legs, and size-13 feet in flip flops. They further exuded an air of conceited macho arrogance, of someone accustomed to having his own way and taking what he wanted as his entitlement.
By this second exchange Jackson’s e-mail clearly revealed that he wanted to get together with Amber as soon as possible, he was already anticipating their “fireworks”, etc. Jackson suggested they meet at the local Starbuck’s (Jackson somehow implying that he wanted to make sure Amber was not really a “fat chick” who looked nothing like her photos). Amber had no problem with this since, she, too, wanted to make sure Jackson was as represented, as did Ryan.
Amber e-mailed Jackson back agreeing to the meeting the next evening, a Friday after Jackson finished work for the week. Ryan sat at a table across from Amber at Starbuck’s where he could observe and overhear their conversation. Sure enough, Jackson soon pulled up in shiny new Bentley convertible in a Zegna designer suit and tie. He removed his designer sunglasses as he entered the Starbuck’s, his eyes instantly lighting on Amber’s “model-quality” looks, as he strode his 6’ 3” frame over to his table. Ryan caught the scent of the executive’s expensive Bulgari cologne as he took a seat across from Amber.
Amber chatted flirtatiously with the smitten Jackson, exchanging suggestive small talk and egging him on, Jackson practically drooling with anticipation of screwing her senseless. At one point Amber reached out to admire Jackson’s form-fitting Egyptian cotton dress shirt, deliberately aiming one manicured fingernail over Jackson’s right nip which was visibly poking against the expensive fabric of his form-fitting designer shirt, the delicious, all-too-brief unexpected contact with Jackson’s erotically-charged nip causing him to gasp with excitement and causing his dick to jump in his hand-tailored Zegna suit pants. Ryan, sensing that Amber had Jackson in a state where he would soon be escorting her back to Amber and Ryan’s nearby apartment, departed Starbuck’s and raced back to the apartment in Amber’s car.
Jackson soon gallantly escorted Amber to his Bentley, Amber lying that she had walked over from her nearby apartment.
Meanwhile, Ryan had secreted himself in his own bedroom, waiting for his cue to enter.
Amber led the erotically-charged Jackson to her own bedroom, Jackson’s eyes immediately taking in the four-poster bed, Amber having already cleverly attached four restraints to each of the bedposts, with the Velcro-cuffs and a small black leather paddle fully on display on top of the tacky black satin sheets Ryan and Amber had agreed on, the better to contrast against Jackson’s hunky bod and adding a mysteriously “Satanic” note to her boudoir. Unbeknownst to Jackson, a hidden video camera was recording all that would transpire.
“Whoa! You weren’t kidding about liking it kinky!” exclaimed a bug-eyed Jackson, but it was clear he was sexually intrigued by the whole idea, eager to be initiated into the world of kinky sex. Jackson had seen fetish porn and the like but never had actually experienced it, and felt that a roué like him should try it at least once. Plus this Amber was a sweet girl and Jackson had no fear of her turning into some maniacal shrew, and rather liked the idea of being tied up by a beautiful woman for the first time in his life. His dick jumped in his pants with anticipation.
“You’re not backing out now, big boy, are you?” teased Amber. “Hell no! You’ve got me totally intrigued, babe!” replied Jackson.
Amber then seated herself in an armchair across from the bed and said “Strip for me! Show me what a stud you are, Jackson!”
Jackson, while initially taken aback by being “ordered” to do anything, narcissistically got off on the idea of showing off his carefully gym-toned, buff body. What babe wouldn’t cream her pants getting a look at his goods, eh? So Jackson gamely complied, rakishly loosening his silk necktie, then tossing it onto the floor in front of Amber, before winking and slowly unbuttoning the buttons of his form-fitting designer Egyptian cotton dress shirt one-by-one, each time revealing more of his just-the right-amount-of chest-hair chest, until he tugged the shirt tails out of his designer suit pants and tossed his dress shirt to join his discarded necktie on the floor in front of Amber.
“Ooo what a dreamy hairy chest you have, Jackson, and that tan, those muscles!” enthused Amber, Jackson eating up the expected and accustomed praise. “Now for the unveiling!”
Jackson then kicked off his Ferragamo dress shoes and socks, leaving his size 13 feet covered by his calf-length executive sheer socks, then undid his crocodile belt and slowly unzipped the zipper with a sexy “zippppp” sound, before winking again and slowly lowering his expensive Zegna suit pants then kicking them off and kicking them over to join the rest of his discarded designer duds.
Jackson was now clad only in his form-fitting white Calvin Klein boxer briefs and calf-length executive sheer socks, an obvious bulge in the former, his hardening cock clearly out lined and pulsing with lust as it lay trapped within the tight confines of the executive’s sexy shorts.
“Oh baby, show me the money!” enthused Amber breathlessly.
Thus encouraged, Jackson winked again and slowly lowered his Calvins revealing a sexy nest of exuberantly-haired, manly pubes, whereupon his enormous, now-freed cock popped out and jutted forward, already rock-hard with anticipation followed by his pendulous, hairy balls, and muscular, hairy thighs and legs, his manly ass revealed in the mirror across the room.
Amber then grabbed Jackson’s discarded necktie and approached his naked body, gingerly avoiding contact with his jutting penis, only to grab his wrists behind his back and using his designer silk necktie to bind his hands behind his broad, suntanned back.
“Heh-heh, kinky babe, kinky!” was Jackson eager reply, his cock throbbing all the harder from his feeling of being under this kinky, playful “restraint”.
Next Amber grabbed a “tried and true” blackout blindfold which both she and Ryan had experimented with, one that totally deprived one of vision, and left one in total darkness. “Now time for the blindfold, stud” announced Amber.
“Whoa! I dunno, babe. We didn’t discuss any blindfold- that’s kinda weird shit!”
“Aww, c’mon big boy, you mean my big, strong, sexy man is afraid of a l’il ‘ol blindfold!?” inquired Amber, running her fingers over Jackson’s exposed hairy chest and teasing his right nip for emphasis, which hardened all the more at her touch, his cock jumping in surprised response. “C’mon, it’ll make it all the sexier- the blindfold heightens your responses babe- you won’t be able to see where I’m er headed…if you know what I mean…” (implying he would soon be receiving “head”- which he soon enough would be (only from Ryan, lol!)
“Well, er, ok babe, I’ll give it a try,” replied Jackson, gamely, now pretty much open to anything this “model-quality chick” had in mind, his mind envisioning the classy model-quality chick pursing her beautiful lips and giving him blissful head and whatever else she had in mind, him ordering her how to service him just the way he demanded it like a good girl, before he fucked her silly, his hard cock jutting out obscenely and pulsing with desire all the more as he anticipated the many pleasures to come, culminating in his emptying his jizz-filled hairy balls into the classy chick’s dripping pussy as he made her squeal from being impaled on his twat-taming cunt-rammer. Yeah he would fuck that bitch all across the room- yee-hah!
At a silent signal from Amber, Ryan now entered the room, conspiratorially winking at Amber as he silently approached the tightly blindfolded oblivious straight stud who had spread his hairy, muscular legs wide on the floor with his exposed cock and balls obscenely and proudly displayed, anticipating.
The duo kind of left him there, waiting, wondering, what would happen next, Jackson getting impatient and ordering- “Hey, Amber, look babe we haven’t got all day here- let’s get some action going here!”
“My, my, aren’t we the impatient one, you naughty boy! Is my Jackson all hot and bothered wondering what will happen next, stud?” cooed Amber, Jackson snapping “yeah, bitch let’s get the show in the road!” as Ryan approached and began by extending his hot wet tongue over Jackson’s erect right nip, nibbling and chewing on the delicate, sensitive flesh and his hairy chest as Jackson gasped in surprise at the unexpected, sensual touch, the macho, straight dude who was ordinarily a stoic and virtually silent sex partner who only grunted a bit in satisfaction when he blew his manly load into some chick’s lucky pussy, surprising even himself as this sexy contact with his man-nip caused him to involuntarily moan and groan with lust like the bitch in heat he was fast becoming under Ryan’s practiced manipulation of his helpless, totally exposed body. “Awww yesss, you fuckin slut, whoaaaa, what a turn on babe, oh yeahhhh” encouraged Jackson who continued to uncontollably moan with pleasure, as he nearly drooled with pleasure, his sensitivity increased by his not being able to see where “Amber” was going next.
Ryan slowly worked his way over to Jackson’s left nip which received the same sensual treatment, as Ryan simultaneously grabbed the straight dude’s jutting cock and gave it a few strokes, to the sound of more moans of pleasure from his happy victim, as he tongued his way down over the dude’s suntanned six-pack abs and following the happy trail of dark hair that separated his laddered abdominals until his taster sensually delved into Jackson’s hair-haloed innie navel, before working his way down to Jackson’s exuberant dark pubic bush where he inhaled its combined aroma of male crotch sweat mingled with traces of Jackson’s expensive Bulgari cologne, before taking Jackson’s pulsating boner into his (liberally chapstick-coated to simulate lipstick) lips and giving Jackson his desired “head” as Jackson ordered “yeah, do it, suck my big cock, bitch!,” Ryan then dipping lower to drop one of Jackson’s hairy, quivering balls into his mouth, as Jackson groaned with the delicious pleasure this brought him, Ryan doing likewise to his other hairy ball as he jacked his big dick, sucking on them like lozenges or a squirrel eagerly savoring and devouring his winter nuts, as Jackson squirmed and moaned vociferously “Ohhh yeahhh babe, suck my big hairy balls, oh yeahhhh!!!”
Then, suddenly, Ryan stopped, leaving the necktie-bound, blindfolded executive Jackson wondering why. “Hey why’d you stop, you bitch! I was enjoying that! C’mon get back to work!” Jackson was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it and was no longer so much in the mood for frustrating “games” and was ready to fuck Amber’s air-headed model brains out like he had anticipated all along.
“Hold on, stud! Do you think it’s nice to keep calling me a ‘bitch’ Jackson? Huh? Don’t you think you’re being a bit, er naughty??” queried Amber, “you know what happens to naughty boys, don’t you?” continued Amber, giggling. “Remember you agreed to ‘light’ spanking, babe? I think you deserve it now!” Amber then said “whew it’s hot in here! I’m stripping naked myself Jackson, does that turn you on?” “Oh yeah, babe take it all off, bitch- oops, I mean babe-“ Jackson envisioning her doing so turning him on all the more.
“Yeah, sure, I remember the light spanking shit. OK, Ok, maybe I was a ‘bad boy’- OK, I’ll play along- you gonna spank me on my ass with that paddle I saw on the bed, huh? You gonna give it to me good for callin’ you a fuckin bitch, bitch?”, a sneering Jackson playfully thrusting his bare, slightly hair-flecked untanned ass, which was in total contrast to the rest of his suntanned muscular body, back and raised a bit, deliberately making it a more inviting target, wriggling it a bit for emphasis, the blindfolded Jackson surprised that the idea of having his ass spanked a bit by a naked model-quality chick seemed like it might be kind of a turn-on.
After a reasonable pause to keep Jackson guessing, Ryan then seized the black leather paddle and swatted Jackson’ invitingly outthrust bare ass with a few light swats that barely raised a bit of pink to the alabaster cheeks of the rich executive’s upturned ass.
“Aww c’mon, babe you can do better than that! Remember I called you a bitch, bitch!” egged on Jackson, raising his ass all the higher and wagging it around in the air.
Music to Ryan’s ears, Ryan raised the paddle over his head and proceeded to fiercely swat Jackson’s upturned ass as he yelped in outraged pain, as blow after blow was delivered until Jackson’s ass was hot pink and glowing all over, though not really red or bruised, just enough to make it sting.
“OWWWW, Shittt!! OWWWWW! STOPP THAT SHITTT!!! OWWWWW! HOO BOY! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”
Ryan then stopped and tossed the paddle aside. Amber cooed “well Jackson, honey, you WERE a bit naughty and you DID ask for it harder!” giggling, continuing with “Now see if these ice cubes don’t cool your ass down quickly.”
Ryan then took an ice cube from a bowl in the bedroom mini-fridge and slowly melted it over Jackson’s stinging, burning asscheeks before tonguing the melting ice water off the surface of his just-spanked cheeks, his taster tickling the jangling nerve endings all over Jackson’s bare, hot ass as he did so, Jackson forgetting his anger as the sensual ass-licking and cooling ice cubes cooled his ass down to a slight pink, the warming feeling actually making his cock throb all the harder, as he again moaned in pleasure, jutting his back onto Ryan’s tongue and going “ohh yeahhh babe lick my asscheeks you fuckin’ whore!” his spanking apparently not improving his vocabulary.
Amber next grabbed Jackson by his suntanned muscular shoulders and led him over onto the bed, with his head face down on the mattress, and his ass high in the air. Amber was only able to accomplish getting the necktie-bound, blindfolded Jackson in this position with his straight-boy, manly ass high in the air with his cock and balls dangling own between his hairy, muscular legs, and his anal rosebud winking at the world (and the camera!) by her promising that “this is just a bit more foreplay, babe! You’re gonna love it, you’ll see!”
Ryan then proceeded to approach the thus-positioned Jackson with tiny artist paintbrushes and as Amber cooed “Ooo look how they just dangle there!” whereupon Ryan suddenly made surprising, mind-blowingly sensual contact with Jackson dangling left ballsac, making him jump in surprise before making him moan with lust once again as the tiny paintbrush tickled and teased his nuts as they dangled helplessly, Ryan running another paintbrush over the length of Jackson’s pulsating boner as he groaned and moaned with pent-up desire.
Ryan then trailed one of the artist paintbrushes over the still-pink-from spanking cheeks of Jackson’s ass, Jackson surprised that his upturned manly ass was so sensitive to the soft caress of the brush, as Jackson discovered the hundreds of jangly nerve endings on his ass, the arrogant executive squirming in response to the tickling, teasing caress of the brush as he moaned into the bedsheets as he thrust his ass out further, Jackson finding the teasing of his just-spanked ass to be highly erotic, as his stiff cock swayed and jutted out against his six-pack abs, throbbing with renewed excitement.
At a cue from Ryan, Amber cooed “ohh you like that do ya, baby? Just wait till you feel that on your tiny little butthole you naughty boy!”
“What? Not THERE! No c’mon, don’t fool around with my fuckin’ shitter! That’d be so twisted and sick!” claimed Jackson.
Jackson sang a different tune, however, when he felt Ryan (whom he of course assumed to be Amber) trail the tiny artist paintbrush over the very top of the snotty, demanding executive’s exposed asscrack and then trailed it slowly down, down the couthly-haired divide of his thrust-back ass, tickling and teasing the sensitive skin of his asscrack as Jackson found himself moaning and squirming all the more from the erotic touch of the brush on his most private areas. Ryan ever so slowly and teasingly approached the winking rosebud of Jackson’s hair-haloed virgin butthole with the brush as Jackson mewled with unbidden pleasure, his tiny puckered rosebud quivering in anticipation of contact by the maddening fronds of the exquisitely tortuous artist paintbrush.
Jackson shouted “OH MY GOD!” when Ryan made delicious contact with his quivering butthole, the tiny artist paintbrush circling and teasing the incredibly ticklish surface of Jackson’s manly virgin asshole, Jackson rearing his ass back to add even more friction to the caress of the brush, unwittingly wagging his ass shamefully for the hidden camera as his virgin rosebud relaxed totally, allowing Ryan to actually begin to invade the inner folds of the dude’s quivering butthole, essentially fucking his tight ass with the tiny fronds that actually slipped into the stud’s hole as Jackson moaned and mewled with lust. Ryan then lowered the paintbrush to tease and tickle Jackson’s exposed perineum as he gasped anew, before trailing down again to caress each of his dangling, hairy balls in turn, which rose up in their sacs as Jackson was repeatedly brought to the brink of a ball-shattering orgasm, only for Ryan to carefully stop at just the point of no return. Ryan and Amber smirked as the horny Jackson pleaded “Oh noo! Be careful! You got me so damned horny I could cum any second! NO! I want to fuck you, bitch- don’t make me cum yet!” as he obviously struggled not to cum under the all-out sensual-overload assault on his cock, balls and ass.
As the blindfolded Jackson continued to shamelessly wag his manly ass in response to the tickling teasing sensation of the artist paintbrush on his exposed nuts and anal rosebud, Ryan could not resist suddenly grabbing hold of Jackson’s manly asscheeks and spreading them wide, as Jackson gasped in shocked surprise, Ryan inhaling the combined essences of his musky manly scent mingled with his expensive Bulgari cologne before suddenly tonguing Jackson’s shamelessly exposed rosebud, using his taster to rim the stud’s virgin hole, Jackson going “Oh my God! You fuckin’ slut! Jesus! What a skanky whore you are, Amber (glad he remembered her name- he often didn’t bother). Damn! No one’s ever done that to me before! Well, go ahead ‘toss my salad’ you hot bitch!” as he forced his asshole back as far as he could giving “Amber” even greater access to his pristine butthole as Ryan spread Jackson’s Bulgari-and-musk-scented asscrack as wide as it would go, and devoured his hole like a pig searching for truffles, mashing his oh-so-closely-shaved face into Jackson’s asscrack and licking and biting his manly asscheeks with gusto as he alternately jerked and stroked the pent-up executive’s massive boner, causing Jackson to moan with lust as he encouraged “her” to totally degrade “herself” going “yeahh you fuckin’ slut! Eat my ass, lick it, bite it, ohhh yeahhh that is SO fuckin’ hot!!!!!” as he continued to wag his ass and thrust it back against “her” face.
At a cue from Ryan Amber then said, “Ok, stud, are you enjoying yourself? I think it’s time to tie you to the bedposts for even more fun, that is if you’re MAN enough not to chicken out after having gone this far!”
Jackson replied “Hell, yeah, you fuckin’ hot bitch! I am MAN enough for 10 fuckin’ bitches and I’m sure as hell ready for whatever else weird shit you have dreamed up! But, remember, I get to fuck you silly in the end, remember?”
“Of course you will! Now I’ll just remove your necktie bonds and then lie on your back on the bed with your wrists and ankles spread wide- and then I’ll- you’ll like this, stud- I’LL TIE YOU UP!!” countered Amber.
“Oh YEAHH, you skanky WHORE! Yeah, go ahead, I’m gonna love all this kinky shit!” went on Jackson, completely aroused and ready for just about anything Amber had in mind.
Ryan then removed Jackson’s necktie bondage, and Jackson, smiling sexily under his blindfold and desperate with sexual anticipation, gamely lay back on the bed with his wrist and ankles extended as instructed and said “I’m all yours babe! Go ahead and tie me up- what a lucky bitch you are- have you ever seen such a perfect, manly body, bitch?”
“No, Jackson, you’re so fuckin’ hot! And I am lucky to have you all to myself, aren’t I? Now let me tie you up!” went on Amber, winking at Ryan.
Ryan then proceeded to firmly bind Jackson’s wrists and ankles to the bedposts with the surprisingly sturdy Velcro cuffs, Jackson testing his bonds sexily as he jerked his muscular, suntanned arms and legs to test the extent of his blindfolded restraint, finding he was indeed quite helpless despite his macho strength, the feeling turning him on more than he imagined, his long-denied cock standing straight up and pulsing with lust as he squirmed sexily in his inescapable bondage, anticipating further kinky pleasures at the talented hands of the lovely Amber, incredibly turned on.
Ryan then carefully approached the bound Jackson, careful to only touch him with his extremely-closely-shaved face and with no other part of his body to betray his true sex and began to tongue-bathe him from head to toe, kissing his manly suntanned neck and Adam’s apple, along his neckline and nibbling his sensitive earlobes before kissing Jackson full on his lips, Ryan entwining his tongue with Jackson’s own taster as Jackson moaned with lust and unwittingly eagerly French-kissed another man, their lips and tongues entwining as Ryan simultaneously let his hands roam over Jackson’s hairy chest to tweak each of his erect manly nips, Ryan inhaling Jackson’s Bulgari-scented body before releasing Jackson’s lips and tongue and using their combined saliva to suddenly plunge into Jackson’s exposed right armpit, Ryan devouring the sexy hairy hollow with gusto, inhaling its mixture of manly sweat and Bulgari scent as he buried his face in Jackson’s pit as the bound executive moaned in ecstasy at the never-before-experienced pleasure of having the “skanky whore” eat out his pit, going “ohhh yeahhh, babe! Eat the sweat out my funky pit- oh yeahhh!” as his untouched cock twitched and throbbed with excitement in response to this kinky diversion, swaying from side to side.
Ryan repeated this with Jackson’s left armpit causing him to moan and groan with lust and thrust his hips outward in fuck movements willing the air to friction against his throbbing boner.
Ryan then slid his taster down and over Jackson’s heaving, hairy chest, nibbling each manly nip in turn and sucking on his erect nips as Jackson moaned deliriously and arched his chest mewling like the true whore in heat that he was, a puppet in Ryan’s hands as the gay dude hijacked the bound straight stud’s hunky body as the straight executive moaned and mewled and literally begged “Amber” for more.
Jackson groaned with renewed lust as Ryan delved down over Jackson’s washboard abs and slid his tongue into Jackson’s innie navel, Ryan spearing his tongue deep into that intimate recess while simultaneously “accidentally” brushing against Jackson’s straining unfulfilled boner and balls as Jackson continued to attempt to hump the air, his big cock swaying and flopping around in response.
Jackson gasped anew when Ryan suddenly deep-throated his throbbing boner and tickled his manly balls, again expertly sucking the dude just to the point of a nut-shattering climax before backing off and watching the hijacked straight man’s manhood pulsate with denied lust and intense sexual frustration. As much as Jackson so wanted to “save” himself for his promised fuck of Amber, his traitorous prick had other ideas and would like nothing better than to blast its load at any moment, but Ryan made sure that did not happen…yet, Ryan amused at the look of disappointment on the sexually frustrated executive’s face each time he “backed off” just short of the stud’s long-overdue, and highly anticipated, orgasmic explosion.
After several more minutes of this tease and denial of Jackson’s hyper-aroused manhood, Ryan delighted in his having the frustrated straight dude like a “puppet-on-a-string” making him dance to Ryan’s tune and for Ryan’s own amusement and enjoyment., all the sweeter knowing that Jackson was the type who was accustomed to getting his way and getting off on demand and not used to being made to “earn” anything, taking everything as his due, his birthright.
Ryan then got up off of the bed, and, winking at Amber, proceeded to take two more of the artist paintbrushes whereupon he suddenly and without warning delved one of each into Jacksons’ exposed, hairy armpits making contact with the helplessly exposed skin of the straight dude’s armpits where the armpit hair grew in separate directions causing him goosebumps as he shrieked at the unexpected tickling sensation and struggled in his bonds going “AIEEEEEEE!!!! ARGHHHH!!!! NOOOOOO! STOPPPP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAH!!!! OH MY GOD!!!! HAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!” as he thrashed around on the bed and pulled at his bonds to no avail.
Ryan ran the paintbrushes down Jackson’s ticklish sides and over his sensitive nips and navel as Jackson shrieked anew at the unseen tickling devices and begged “her” to “Stopppp!!! OHHHH NOOOO!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAH!” as he trashed wildly his hard cock growing even harder and slapping around as he writhed in anguished tickle torture.
Jackson went completely nuts when Ryan trailed one paintbrush down the length of his now dripping boner while simultaneously tickling his hairy drawn-up nuts with the other amid foray down between his sweaty asscheeks to goose his incredibly ticklish virgin asshole circling the hair-haloed secret orifice as Jackson went wild going “OHHH NOOOO! NOT THERE, FOR GOD’S SAKE!!! NOT MY FUCKIN ASSHOLE, YOU FUCKIN BITCH!!! OH MY GAWDDDDDDD! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH!” as he thrashed around wildly barely able to gasp enough breath to “order” “Amber” to stop this tickling shit!
Ryan also amused himself by trailing the paintbrushes down the lengths of Jackson’s hairy, muscular legs to his helplessly exposed, bare feet, where he fiendishly tickled the arrogant executive’s soles while intermittently sucking on each of his manly toes, as Jackson shrieked and begged and went wild in his bonds to no avail, his unfulfilled cock slapping his thighs from side to side as he futilely struggled and begged for it to stop.
Sensing that Jackson was really getting pissed off about being tickle tortured she tried to mollify him going “So my big strong Jackson is ticklish, eh? Don’t worry, that will be our little secret! Had enough, stud?”
Jackson, sweating profusely now from his unexpected workout finally managed to catch his breath enough to say “HELL YEAH! STOP THIS TICKLING SHIT NOW! DAMN!”
“But look, stud- your Mr. Happy seems to have liked it, yes? Look at how big and hard my big strong man is!” cooed Amber, appealing to the stud’s incredible ego.
“Yeah, bitch! You like that big cunt-rammer, huh? Wait until I poke your cunt with my big sledgehammer- I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you, bitch!” bragged Jackson as Amber and Ryan rolled their eyes trying not to laugh.
At a signal from Ryan, Amber now left the room, leaving Ryan to finish Jackson off. Ryan then proceeded to silently release the stud’s ankles before raising them back to be bound to the headboard, placing the straight stud in one of the most embarrassing and exposed poses imaginable for a straight dude, Jackson’s butch virgin asshole completely exposed to the cool air of the room, his hard cock pointing down toward his abs and blindfolded face.
“Hey what’s up?” queried the surprised Jackson “You’re not gonna tickle my ass again? What gives?”
Ryan just let the stud wonder what was next before he returned to rimming Jackson’s exposed hole as he moaned and groaned with lust, Ryan alternately sucking on Jackson’s hairy balls and deep-throating his pulsating cock before using another artist’s paintbrush to tickle and tease Jackson’s twitching, spit-drenched lubricated hole. When Jackson unwittingly relaxed his tight shitter in moaning pleasurable response and while Ryan continued to suck on Jackson’s long-denied cock, Ryan suddenly thrust a single finger into Jackson’s hungry hole and began to finger-fuck him. The sudden contact with Jackson’s only-touched-by-a-doctor prostate caused Jackson to groan with guilty pleasure as he realized that this was triggering a mind-blowing orgasm, Jackson shouting “OH MY GOD!!! IM’ FUCKING CUMMMING!!!!!!” as Ryan continued to suck Jackson’s big dick, Ryan swallowing the first of the straight stud’s huge molten load before releasing it to spray cum all over Jackson’s hairy chest and onto his lips, face and over his blindfold as he came in bolt after bolt of highly pressurized cum. As Jackson lay recovering from the most intense orgasm of his life, Ryan pulled out his own twitching cock and splattered his own cum to join that on Jackson’s hairy chest, Jackson merely assuming this was the last of his own cum.
Ryan then happily lapped up their combined spunk before retreating and fetching Amber back into the room.
“Wow stud, what a load!” enthused Amber. “Aww too bad. And you were gonna fuck me remember?” she teased.
“Hell I still will fuck you bitch! Ole Jackson’s good for more than one pop! And I’m fuckin getting even with you for sneaking a finger up my ass, you whore!” as Jackson tugged at his bonds clearly ready to be set free.
Amber was saved from a reply (though amused Ryan managed to get a finger up there!) by Ryan’s pre-arranged loud banging of the front door to the apartment. Amber said “Oh my god! Jackson, that’s my roommate, Ryan. He must have returned from his business trip early! He’s gay, silly, so don’t be jealous, tee hee! But it’s really his apartment and he doesn’t like me having people, er, overnight, so you’ll have to go. But I’ll make it up to you next time!”
Amber then released Jackson, and after a quick shower, Jackson returned to the the room to suit up in his suit. Since Amber had stolen his Calvins for Ryan’s sniffing enjoyment they were pronounced “lost” so Jackson joked he would just “hang free” tugging his Zegna suit pants over his naked ass.
On his way out, Amber “introduced” Jackson to Ryan who glared at him in his homophobic way, before joking to Amber on his way out, out of earshot of Ryan, that “Jeez did you see the way that Ryan guy looked at me? Damn queer looked at me like he fuckin wanted to eat me! As if he’d ever get the chance!” followed by a loud guffaw.
Amber gave a tinkly laugh, truly amused. If he only knew! “Well, like that would ever happen! But, listen, stud, shall we pick up where we left off next week, eh? You ready to fuck me after some more kinky shit, eh?”
“Hell yeah!” replied Jackson, truthfully. “Yeah you can tie me up again-more kinky games- you wanna spank this bad boy again, ha ha You like spanking my ass bitch?? No more tickling tho! Then I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you bitch!”
“I can’t wait” replied Amber, implying she was looking forward to getting fucked when in fact she was thinking of what would really happen “next time”!
Richard
Posted on 30 May 2014 | 7:46 pm
A ticklish 19yo hot-shot tennis coach makes the mistake of getting too frisky with one of his students. His kinky friends teach Dave a lesson with an intense tickle torture and cum control punishment session in this hot male tickling story from Eddie.
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Dave’s Punishment
by Eddie
The match had left Dave feeling alive and ready for anything. Life was good; he’d recently been promoted to Senior Tennis Coach at the club – at 19, the youngest ever. He loved the game so much that he thought he’d do it even if he didn’t get paid for it – a lot. He was young, good-looking, had managed to buy a nice house in a good part of town and, although he lived alone, he had many admirers and some very interesting friends.
Dave was happy. As he’d been jogging home, he’d been thinking about what to wear when he went out to the club tonight – and it wasn’t until he put his key in the lock of his front door that he realized he was no longer alone. He heard a footstep behind him. Startled, he began to turn, and suddenly everything went black as a loose canvas hood was dropped over his head. His arms were seized and handcuffed behind him and his legs were strapped together – all this before he knew what was happening. He heard the door opening and then felt himself lifted and carried through into his house.
Struggling and shouting, he was taken upstairs and dumped onto his bed. Then, while being held helpless by several pairs of hands, he was strapped spread-eagled and face up, to the corners of the bed. Next, his trainers and socks were removed. All he was wearing now was his jogging shorts – not even underwear (he’d got a thing about shorts and took every opportunity to wear them with nothing underneath).
During all of this, Dave had struggled to get free and shouted blue murder into the hood. Who were these people? What was happening? Was he about to be robbed – or killed? He lay trembling on the bed, unable to see anything and not knowing what was going to happen to him. He was still trying to get free but he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of his restraints. He was stretched out on the big double bed and couldn’t move an inch.
He felt hands at his neck and a moment later the hood was roughly pulled off. Dave blinked in the light for a moment and then saw his captors. There were three of them and they were all dressed identically – leather biker jackets, tight leather jeans, bike boots and black ski masks. Only their eyes were visible. On each one’s jacket was a badge depicting a feather, a pair of handcuffs and the initials “S.Y.T.C.”
One of them had a star beneath the symbols.
The one with the star moved closer and stood looking down at his captive. “Does the name ‘Colin Lee’ mean anything to you?” he asked.
His voice was gentle and friendly.
Dave frowned inside the hood. Colin was one of his pupils at the tennis club – eighteen and very promising – and very sexy. “We’re friends of Colin. He’s told us a lot about you. He says you’re a brilliant coach and he likes you a lot.” Star sat on the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, we’re not here to hurt you,” he looked at the others, “are we, boys?”
The other two shook their masked heads slowly. Star laughed gently.
“The thing is, you see, that although Colin thinks a lot of you, he reckons you’re getting just a little bit too – physical – with him. He’s not gay, you see, and although he doesn’t mind at all if you are – and we don’t mind, either – he’s asked us to have a friendly chat with you about it. Obviously a tennis coach has to touch his pupils from time to time. Colin understands that, but it’s the other stuff you do to him he wants us to talk to you about. The trouble is, you see, he is so very ticklish.” Star picked something up from by his feet and held it out so Dave could see it. It was a long, stiff, wickedly-pointed feather. “Now,” Star continued conversationally, “Colin knows that the three of us are members of a certain club and thought we might have the perfect skills to – persuade – you to lay off him a little bit.” Star touched the badge on his leather jacket. “The letters stand for ‘South Yorkshire Tickling Club’.”
Oh no. Please God, no. Dave shook his head slowly and despairingly from side to side. He’d fancied Colin for ages and took any available opportunity to make physical contact with him. One way he’d discovered recently was to tickle him. Colin went completely and utterly helpless when tickled and it was an excellent way of touching him very intimately but under the guise of horseplay. Lately his tickling of Colin had become more sexual, more frequent and more intense – until last Friday he’d actually made the boy cum in his shorts.
Now here he was, wearing only his shorts, completely helpless and at the mercy of three anonymous guys in his own bedroom.
Star drew the feather slowly through his fingers, playing with the pointed tip teasingly. “Now, tickling is something that is completely unconcerned with the sex of the – victim – in the club we tickle females and males, whether we’re gay or straight. So, although we happen to be straight, we all know exactly how to tickle boys – and we’re very good at it.”
Dave was really trembling now. He couldn’t stand being tickled. He was the most ticklish person he’d ever known. Even the threat of being tickled would make him immediately curl into a tight ball, his hands trying to cover all his sensitive spots – but there were so many of them he still felt vulnerable. Hell – he was so ticklish he could even tickle himself. If Dave had been free he would have run as fast as he could, or at the very least locked himself in the wardrobe and curled up inside – but he wasn’t free. He was in what was just about the most vulnerable position he could imagine – strapped down spread-eagled to a bed, unable to protect a single inch of his hyper ticklish body, and about to be tickled by several guys – guys who, from the sound of it, were experts.
Star leaned over and blew very gently onto Dave’s right armpit. The boy felt his hairs move in the breeze and drew an involuntary sharp breath. Even that tickled. He began to moan quietly. There was no way he was going to be able to stand this. Could a person go mad from being tickled? He didn’t know, but thought it was very likely. His whole body cried out to be somewhere else – somewhere far away, enclosed in protective layers that would keep fingers and feathers out – but here he was, helpless and horrifyingly vulnerable. His worst nightmare was about to begin.
Smiling under his mask at the reaction caused by his breathing on the boy’s armpit, Star stood up. “My, you are ticklish, aren’t you?” He looked at the other two. “This is going to be fun.”
The taller one of the other two boys opened a black bag and took out a hairdryer. He plugged it in, switched it on and directed its hot air onto the soles of Dave’s feet, working first on one and then on the other. Dave lifted his head so he could see what was going on. His foot moved convulsively as the blast of warm air hit his soles, but he relaxed again when he realized it didn’t tickle.
As if reading his thoughts, Star laughed. “Oh, that’s not intended to tickle you; it’s only preparation.” His voice dropped, became cunning. “Warm air on the feet makes them much more sensitive. Can you feel them getting more ticklish? Just imagine what it would feel like if a finger tickled that foot now – the nail scraping across the sole from top to bottom. Or a feather inserted carefully between the toes, tickling, tickling. It’s going to happen and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
Dave had been listening to that voice as if hypnotized. He felt as a mouse must feel when confronted with a snake, its will taken away, its ability to move gone and knowing with dreadful certainty the terrible fate that is only moments away. Suddenly he lost control and, screaming “NO! NO! PLEASE! LEAVE ME ALONE! I’M SORRY – I’LL NEVER TOUCH HIM AGAIN! I PROMISE!” he thrashed about in his restraints, using every ounce of his strength to escape. But the straps held him down; he couldn’t move.
Star waited until he became quieter, then shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. Colin has given us very precise instructions and we’ve agreed to carry them out for him. You wouldn’t want us to let a friend down, now, would you?”
Dave tried to control his trembling. “Wh-what instructions?” he whispered.
“Colin asked us to tickle-torture you for fifteen minutes. No more, no less. He thinks that is about right for the tickling you’ve done to him – given that what we’re going to do to you is going to be a bit more – intense – than what you did to him.”
The third boy had a bottle of massage oil and began to spread it over Dave’s bare skin with his hands. Again, Dave tensed, expecting the tickling to begin, but the boy was using straightforward, firm strokes – in fact, being careful not to tickle him while he rubbed the oil into every square inch of exposed skin below the neck. After a couple of minutes, the only bits of his body that weren’t glistening with oil were his face, his feet and the area under his shorts
.
“Wh-what’s that for?” Dave asked hesitantly, afraid of what the answer would be even as he asked the question.
“The oil lets our fingers slide over your skin better,” he grinned under the ski-mask, “makes it tickle more.” He looked round at the other two who were now finished with the oil and the hairdryer. “Okay – I think we’re about ready. Clock, please.”
One of the others took a large photographic timing clock out of the bag and handed it to Star, who placed it on the bedside table where Dave could see it clearly. He set it for fifteen minutes. “There. That will tell you how much longer there is to go before the torture ends.”
He paused for a moment. “Now there’s just one more thing and we can begin.” Slowly, he reached down and picked up the canvas hood.
It took Dave a few seconds to realize what that meant and when he did he began to shake his head slowly from side to side. “Oh no,” he whispered, “don’t put that hood on me. Please. I won’t be able to see the clock…”
Star was playing with the hood. “No,” he said thoughtfully, “you won’t, will you?” He looked up from the hood and smiled brightly.
“But you’ll be able to hear it – that is, when you’re not making enough noise to drown it out, of course. But you won’t know how much longer there is to go till the torture stops.” His voice was now gloating.
“You’ll lose all track of time. You’ll never know if there’s another ten seconds to go or ten minutes. It’ll seem like hours to you.”
Dave was really sweating now. He stared fixedly at the canvas bag being lovingly stroked by Star’s hand. He tried to speak but couldn’t. He swallowed hard and tried again. His voice came out as a desperate whisper. “Please, do anything you like to me but don’t put that hood on me. I need to be able to see.”
“I know you do,” Star was gentle, concerned, sympathetic. “I know you do. If you can’t see, it would be ten times worse.” He paused, as if deep in thought, his eyes gazing at the hood. Abruptly, he seemed to come to a decision. “You’re right. It would be wrong to put this hood on you.”
For the first time, Dave began to relax a little.
Star handed the hood to the boy who’d been putting the massage oil on Dave’s body. Unseen by Dave, he gave the boy a deliberate wink. The boy smiled, understanding exactly the signal he’d been given. He placed the hood in the bag – and handed Star another. “So,” continued Star, “I’m going to use this one on you.” He held the new hood up so Dave could see it. Unlike the canvas one, this was no bag – it was a purpose-made heavy black leather device with studs and a strap at the collar to prevent removal. It looked like something out of a medieval torture chamber. Star moved closer to Dave. “It would be wrong to use the other one for several reasons: you could have shaken it off in time, but once this one is on you it will stay. Also, whereas the canvas one is only meant to make the abduction of a victim easier, this one is specifically designed to make tickle torture much, much more difficult to stand – as you will see.” Without taking his eyes off Dave’s, Star opened the hood, lifted it slowly over the helpless boy’s head and smiled. It was the last thing Dave saw for some time.
He fought with all the strength he had, thrashing his head from side to side in an effort to prevent them from getting it on him, but with very little effort Star got the boy hooded. He zipped up the back, laced the sides very tight, and fastened the strap at the collar. Standing up, he puffed out his cheeks and blew. “Right, now we can take these things off!” The boys removed their ski masks with sighs of relief – they were very hot. “And I don’t think we need this, either.” He tossed the timer clock to an assistant who put it away in the bag.
The leather hood came down over Dave’s eyes. He felt Star lift his head and fasten a zipper at the back. Then the hood became tighter – there must be lacings at the side. Finally the strap at the neck was fastened.
For a moment Dave panicked. He was blind, deaf and he was suffocating. He couldn’t get any air. The hood was two thicknesses of leather – heavy, stiff leather on the outside and very thin, soft leather on the inside, with the shiny side facing in. Every time he tried to inhale, the thin leather clung to his face, covering his mouth. And he couldn’t hear anything – the sides must be padded, cutting off nearly all sound. Dave thought he was going to die. He was desperately gasping for air. Then Star’s voice close to his left ear was shouting, “By the way, breathe slowly. That way you’ll get enough air. If you try to breathe fast, you’ll suffocate.”
Dave filled himself to calm down. He controlled his breathing and found that he could indeed get air provided he inhaled slowly. He heard Star shouting at him again. “The clock starts in sixty seconds.”
“Oh God. Oh no. Please don’t,” Dave pleaded into the hood, but he knew they couldn’t hear him.
Actually, he was wrong. Built into the hood was a small microphone and a tiny transmitter of the type to which any FM radio could be tuned.
The boys had such a radio and were now grinning as they heard Dave’s desperate plea come out of the small speaker.
Dave had been counting seconds. He tensed himself as he got to 45. It could be any second now. He could have been counting too slowly – or too fast.
50-51-52-53-54-55-
Every muscle in Dave’s body was tensed. He was shaking.
56-57-58-59-
60. NOW!
Nothing happened.
He strained to hear what they were doing. Where were they?
Nothing.
He let out a scream and almost jumped out of his skin as something pointed or slightly sharp raked across the sole of his right foot. He fought against his restraints, trying to move his foot, but the feeling came again. God it tickled.
A finger touched his left elbow and tickled in the crease of the joint. Dave threw back his head and moaned. Now the finger was making its way very slowly up his arm from the elbow to the shoulder. Slowly but surely it was moving toward his armpit. He shook his head from side to side. “No. Not my armpits. PLEASE, not my armpits.”
The boy working on his foot was beginning to increase the speed of the tickling. Suddenly he changed to the other foot, then back to the first. Dave started to laugh. Slowly, the pitch of his voice rose and the laughter became more urgent. As the boy practiced his art on Dave’s helpless, vulnerable bare feet, the laughter gradually developed into little screams. When the finger at his shoulder found his armpit and tickled it, the screams became shrieks.
Dave thought this was as bad as it could get – but he was very wrong.
There were three more hands that weren’t being used yet. One of them started on Dave’s other armpit, causing renewed shrieking from the boy. Both his pits were being tickled and both feet. He didn’t think he could stand much more of this.
The hood pressed over his face, the thick black leather molding to every contour. It wasn’t fair – he could only get enough air if he breathed slowly, but what they were doing to him made him need to breathe fast. And if only he could see them, where they were, where they were going to tickle him next, he knew he would be able to stand it better. He had to see. He willed himself to be able to see through the hood but the black leather blindfolded him completely. He felt so unbelievably fucking helpless.
On the other side of the hood, Star had been watching the boys at work. The one enjoying himself with Dave’s feet was Gary – so far he’d been working on the soles with a couple of feathers, using the sharp, horny ends and the soft, pointed ends alternately. Each of the boys had a specialty (which was why Star has chosen them). Gary was an expert foot-tickler and he knew exactly how to cause maximum stimulation with feathers, brushes, a dry ball-point pen, other implements, or just his fingers. He knew that the feet, although one of a victim’s most ticklish places, tended to desensitize with too much constant stimulation, so he worked first on one foot, then the other, giving each one frequent rests to maintain maximum sensitivity and ticklishness. Gary particularly loved to work on toes. He had developed a devastatingly effective technique, and used a specially-made device which was the size and shape of a pointed feather, but which was made of stiff leather. He used this to reach right in between the victim’s toes and tickle the space between with the pointed end. Or he could insert it flat between the toes and use a sawing motion. Or he could use the point to work on the base of each toe or right up under the nail. Each of these techniques caused Dave to struggle, arch his back, scream into the hood and desperately try to get his feet away from the unbearable tickling. Gary worked carefully and precisely, always watching his victim’s reaction to anything he did, so that within a few minutes he knew exactly which techniques caused this particular victim the most distress. Once he knew that, he used those techniques without mercy.
Cheow was Chinese and his specialty was armpits, sides, ribs and stomach, down to the groin. He used no implements, only his hands, and boasted that he could get a victim to the point of begging for mercy in less than thirty seconds. It was he who was currently working on Dave’s armpits – but he was holding himself back at the moment, and only tickling gently. Of the three boys, Cheow was the most cruel and sadistic – he loved to see a victim writhing in an agony of ticklishness, and the more desperate he or she became, the more it turned Cheow on and the more mercilessly he worked on his helpless victim. The problem with this was that it often turned him on so much that he came in his jeans and once he’d cum , he lost creativity in his work. For this reason, he always put a condom on before beginning to tickle-torture someone – and this was why he was holding himself in check for the time being. Cheow had worked on hundreds of victims and, over the years, as his skill had gradually increased so had his obsession with upper-body tickle-torture. He was now so accomplished – and dangerous – at it that Star had to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn’t go too far. With Cheow, the phrase “tickled to death” could have an actual possibility of becoming literally true. Star watched him at work on Dave’s armpits. His technique was to identify the exact centre of the armpit, then begin with large circles, getting very slowly but inexorably closer to that centre point, with many false starts and beginning again at the outside, but always getting nearer to the “sweet spot” as he called it. The effect on the victim was to make that spot – which hadn’t even been touched yet – the most ticklish place on his entire body. When the Chinese boy’s fingers actually got there, the effect was devastating. But as much as Cheow loved tickling armpits and ribs, some victims could, with sufficient effort of will, stand it. Sides, however, were a different story altogether. Cheow had not yet met one victim who could steel himself against stiff, skillful fingers probing deeply into the sides of his waist. His technique here was to work on the victim’s sides, pressing, probing and stabbing, moving his fingers millimeters at a time until he found the “sweet spot” – the one spot that was so ticklish to the victim that he couldn’t fight it. Having found this spot on either side of the helpless body, he would stimulate it unpredictably, digging in hard, moving his fingers in small circles for a while, until the victim was hysterical, then he would gently and lightly stroke the spot with his fingertips while the victim tensed in panic waiting for the next onslaught. Sometimes he would keep his victim waiting for minutes, never knowing when the fingers would dig in again and send him into screaming, shrieking paroxysms of hysteria.
This was the part Cheow liked best – the mental anguish he could cause with just two fingers.
Star was really an all-rounder. His was a natural talent and he loved to tickle any part of a victim’s anatomy. However, he had a special skill – he could sense the exact moment when a victim was about to cum . Because of this, he had found himself specializing in the tickle-torture of the area normally covered by a victim’s shorts.
Thighs, testicles, perineum, cock, vagina, clitoris – these were Star’s territory. He was also very good on knees.
Gary was having a brief rest and Cheow had Dave in hysterics as he tickled the boy’s ribs. Gasps, moans, screams and pleading were relayed from the microphone in the leather hood to the radio and Cheow’s tight leather jeans were bulging with a rock-hard erection.
Star was interested to note that Cheow was not the only one with a hard-on; Gary was gently playing with his own, Star himself had one, and Dave’s loose shorts were being pushed up into a pyramid by what lay underneath. They had been torturing the poor boy for ten minutes and it was time for Star to join in.
Star, like Dave, had a fetish for shorts. He particularly loved loose shorts and liked nothing better than tickling a boy up the leg of them. In his experience, he had found that more often than not a victim actually felt more vulnerable and ticklish if he were worked on in shorts than if he were wearing nothing at all. From the bag, Star took a long, curved, stiff feather with a sharply pointed tip, and a paper clip, then positioned himself at the foot of the bed between Dave’s widely spread legs. He reached out and pulled Dave’s shorts down a couple of inches onto his hips. This effectively made the shorts looser, increasing the spaces between the boy’s thighs and the legs of the shorts. He pulled the inside of the shorts’ legs together and fastened them together with the paper clip. Now, looking along Dave’s legs, he had a clear view of, and good access to, the boy’s balls and cock up the legs of the shorts.
Star glanced at Cheow, who had been giving Dave’s ribs a thorough workout and was ready to begin on the boy’s ticklish sides. “Okay,” he said. Cheow stopped and Star waited for a few moments to give Dave a chance to recover, get his breath back and wonder what was going to happen next.
Then, being extremely careful not to touch either the boy’s skin or the shorts, Star slowly inserted the feather up inside the left leg of the shorts. Of course Dave, being blindfolded, was unaware of what was happening and it wasn’t until the pointed tip of the feather made contact with his testicles that he felt anything. And when it did, he let out a scream that echoed from the radio round the room. With all his strength he tried to close his legs together to protect his sensitive boy-parts from the tickling feather wielded by Star, but of course he couldn’t. His legs were strapped wide apart and there was nothing he could do but lie there and take it. The tip of the feather danced over his balls, across the front of them, up and down the sides and right into the crevice where the scrotum joined the very top of his thighs. The curve of the feather also allowed Star to reach the back of his balls and the boy’s perineum. He worked on the testicles, the tops of the thighs and the perineum for five minutes or so, during which time Dave’s hysterical laughter and screams of ticklish agony reached new heights. Dave had never had his balls tickled before and he had never imagined that anything could tickle so much. Under the black leather hood, he came close to fainting many times, but Star was careful never to allow him to escape the torture that way. He would tickle the boy for a while until his screams and desperate gasping for breath told him he couldn’t take any more, then he would pause for a moment to allow Dave to recover a little so that he could continue.
Dave’s eyes were wide open and his head was thrown back in extreme torment as he willed himself not to be ticklish, not to give them the satisfaction of seeing him react violently to the tickle-torture – but there was nothing he could do to fight it. He realized now what Star had meant when he’d told him that the hood would make the tickling much worse. The leather cut off all sight and almost all sound. Denied the distraction of these two senses his brain was forced to concentrate all its perception on what he could feel – and that made him 1000% more ticklish. In addition to that, the leather enclosing his head and pressing tight across his face made him feel unbelievably helpless and more horny than he had ever felt in his life. In spite of the fact that what was being done to his balls tickled like nothing he’d ever experienced before, it was also incredibly sexy, and he desperately needed to cum . As he lay on the bed, strapped down helpless, he was moving his hips up and down, desperately fucking his shorts, trying to bring himself off. There was nowhere he could move, nothing he could do, to stop that tickling. It felt like a butterfly flapping its wings against his balls and walking over them, getting deep into all the nooks and crannies – not a single square millimeter was protected.
Dave used every ounce of his concentration to fight against it, to try to alleviate that unbearable tickling, that unbelievably urgent need to cum – but all his efforts only served to make him feel more helpless, more vulnerable, and even more damnably ticklish. Several times he thought he was going to faint, and he longed for unconsciousness, but whoever was working on him knew exactly what he was doing – he would always stop for just long enough to deny him that relief and then the infuriating, frustrating tickling would begin anew.
During this unbearable torture, in a small part of Dave’s mind which was not occupied with dealing with the barrage of ticklish sensations which were flooding it, a thought occurred which chilled him to the bone: he’d better not allow himself to cum – his mind recoiled from the thought of how much worse it would feel to be tickled like this after he’d had an orgasm. He’d once let a guy tie him up and wank him off, but the guy had been some sort of sadist – after Dave had cum and he’d thought it was all over, the guy had immediately started to wank him again. The feeling had been absolutely unbearable. And that had been only wanking – what it would be like to have these expert fiends tickle-torturing him after he’d cum didn’t bear thinking about.
He would die. He knew he would die, or go mad.
While Dave had been thinking these thoughts, during one of Star’s pauses, he had been whispering them to himself inside the hood. The radio faithfully relayed his words to the boys, who grinned at each other knowingly. Some victims thought of this, some did not. It was good when they did, as it enabled the boys to work on that fear, which is exactly what they did now. Star knew that one of the reasons wearing shorts made boys more ticklish and horny was the feeling of invasion – of their one remaining defense being violated – as a hand or feather made its way up inside. With this in mind, Star put the feather down and slowly inserted his whole hand up Dave’s shorts, using his fingertips to tickle the thigh and his hand to move the shorts about. He ran his hand round the front, back and inside of the boy’s thigh, repeatedly withdrawing it and inserting it again. Each time his hand was fully in, he tickled Dave’s balls, paying particular attention to the back of the testicles, which he’d found to be an especially sensitive place on most boys, before withdrawing it again, tickling the thigh on the way. He worked up one leg and then the other, and finally both together, his fingers tickling every square inch under the boy’s shorts. Dave was delirious. He arched his back, laughed, screamed, shrieked, begged, pleaded and cried – all the time gasping to get enough air into his lungs past the black leather over his face.
So far his cock head had not been touched. Star had made sure that his shorts were sufficiently loose to prevent the possibility of bringing himself off against them, but now he was going to encourage the boy to want to cum . He signaled Gary to begin gently tickling Dave’s bare feet again and for Cheow to work very lightly on his armpits. Then he took the feather once more and began to work on Dave’s rock-hard cock.
He started at the very base of the shaft and drew the feather lightly and teasingly up towards the tip, always stopping short of the glans.
He worked round the boy’s cock, tickling every bit of the throbbing, aching organ. To make it even worse for his victim, and even more impossible for him to resist, he inserted his other hand up the shorts and played with the boy’s vulnerable and ticklish balls at the same time. Dave’s hip-thrusting became more urgent, more desperate, and Star felt him getting close to orgasm.
Dave apparently felt the same thing, because in between the screams and laughter they heard him pleading. “Oh God, don’t let me cum – PLEASE don’t let me cum . AAAAhhh! No! N-n-n-no! N-not my armp-p-pits! Hahahahaha!!! Aaaaahhhh! No! NO! Eheheheheheheh hahahaha HA! Heeeeeeeee!!! Ho haha. P-p-p-please, n-n-n-not THERE! Oh God, my feet – my f-f-feet! It t-t-t–t-t-t-t-TICKLES!!!! Oh GOD – please STOP! I’ll d-do ANYTHING!! PLEASE S-S-STOP. Oh no.. Oh no. I’m gonna cum . I’m gonna cum . M-mMUSTN’T CUM !!! I M-M-MUSTN’T CUM !!!!!!
Star stopped and signaled the others to stop, too. Dave’s violent movements gradually subsided as he cooled down and the threat of orgasm receded again.
Dave lost count of how many times they did this to him – brought him to the very edge of orgasm and then stopped just in time so that he couldn’t cum . The was the most exquisite mental torture – on the one hand he was absolutely desperate to cum , but at the same time he knew that whatever happened, he MUST NOT ALLOW HIMSELF TO CUM . If he did, if he lost control , he would face a fate far worse than death. But he also knew that these boys could easily make him instrument, having fun with him. If only he could see the clock. Surely the fifteen minutes were up by now? He had no idea of the time – it could have been five minutes or five hours since they’d started. Again he cursed that clinging, blindfolding, black leather hood. In desperation he shook his head violently to dislodge it, to try to get it off so that he could see, but it was immovable, strapped onto him to make him helpless.
He steeled himself again as he felt his shorts move – but this was something different. He felt the leg being raised and his cock and balls pulled out the bottom. Now he was completely vulnerable. The air felt cool on his steel-hard cock as it stuck vertically upwards, being held in position by the leg of the shorts pressing against the base. He felt precum running down the shaft, at first warm, then turning cool after a few seconds. He was not circumcised and the foreskin covered the hypersensitive tip, protecting it. God help him if they started to work on the tip.
The tickling bean again, fingers moving on his armpits – but they didn’t stay there – they were moving downwards. “Oh no, not my ribs again. I can’t stand having my ribs tickled again. Please, not my ribs.” But Cheow’s fingers were not aiming for his ribs. The Chinese boy had been given the go-ahead to work on his favorite spots – the victim’s sides. The bulge in Cheow’s tight shiny black leather jeans doubled in size over the next few seconds as he contemplated tickle-torturing Dave’s sides. His fingers came to rest at the sides of the boy’s waist and began to probe, gently at first, exploring, seeking out the spots which were connected directly to the “tickle centre” of his victim’s brain. He watched the boy’s reactions with so much concentration that he was oblivious to everything else. It was almost as if his fingers were having a conversation with Dave’s nervous system:
“How about here?” “Hmm, not quite. Down a bit.” “How’s this?” “Aaah!
Yes, better, but still not quite there.” “Here?” “I’m not going to tell you.” “Oh, yes you are.” He pressed harder. “How’s that?” “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT!! YES, YES, YES, YES!! THERE!! JUST THERE!!!”
Cheow smiled. Once again, his expert fingers were exactly where he wanted them – precisely positioned on a victim’s most devastatingly ticklish nerve centers. Every time Cheow, who was otherwise a very pleasant, kind and considerate boy, was in this position, he changed into a cruel, sadistic torturer who knew no mercy. His pupils dilated and a dangerous smile grew on his lips. Star nodded to Gary, who went to work on Dave’s toes with the pointed leather feather and his soles with the other hand. At the same time, Cheow dug his stiff fingers into Dave’s sides and, with expertise gained by torturing many previous victims, began to torture Dave.
Star knew he would only have a short time before Dave fainted, so he took the boy’s bare cock between his fingers and began to slide the foreskin back and forth over the very tip. His free hand was up the other leg of the shorts, tickling the back of the boy’s balls mercilessly.
At the very moment they all started, Dave let out a shriek that made the radio speaker rattle. Every muscle in his body tried to escape his restraints. He tried to close his legs together, tried to lower his arms, tried to curl up into a ball, tried to get the hood off – and most of all, tried to stop himself cumming. With terror he felt his spunk leaving his balls, entering the bulb and getting ready to shoot out of his cock. At that moment the tickling, which until now had been unbearable agony, turned into something else – his entire body became one big erogenous zone – one big cock – and it was the most shatteringly sexy thing he had ever experienced in his life. He made one last desperate effort to stop himself from cumming, but he knew there was nothing he could do. The tickling of his feet – the soles and in between the toes – sent electric currents up his legs and straight to his cock, encouraging the spunk on its journey; his sides – his sides – the tickling of his sides was pure torture, but it lifted him to heights of horniness he had never before suspected existed; and the fingers on the tip of his cock, tossing him off while he helplessly tried to resist, and the hand up his shorts, between his thighs, tickling his balls – and the black leather hood, blindfolding him, gagging him, making him absolutely and completely helpless – all this made it impossible for him to fight it. With a scream which almost deafened him inside the hood, he let go, lost control , and came.
Star felt the spunk begin to rise in the helpless boy and his fingers immediately slowed down. As the hot, sticky cum began to pump out of the boy’s cock, his fingers slid over the spunk-lubricated glans in slow motion, prolonging the boy’s orgasm, stretching it out, making it last as long as possible. Dave’s spunk continued to pump out in hot white gobs, covering Star’s face and leather jacket. It didn’t stop – it carried on cumming for ages, the boy’s cock jerking and bucking under Star’s fingers. Dave was struggling, screaming, thrusting his hips and crying, all at the same time.
At the same moment, Cheow also came. The shiny black leather bulge between his legs jerked in and out as the Chinese boy released his own spunk into the condom inside his jeans.
Gary, who had been kneeling behind Star and working flat out on Dave’s bare feet, gripped Star’s boot between his thighs and, pressing his crotch hard against it, shot his own load into his jeans. Unlike Cheow, who had been prepared for this, Gary had never cum in his jeans before and didn’t have a condom on. His spunk shot out into the leather and ran down inside, over his balls and thighs. As he came, he reached forward between Star’s legs, grabbed the boy’s cock bulge and, with three short strokes of his hand, made Star cum .
Star moaned as his orgasm shook him, but he didn’t allow it to interfere with his concentration on Dave’s cock. He continued to toss the boy, milking every last drop of spunk out of Dave’s aching prick.
Everyone relaxed – everyone, that is, except Dave, who was terrified that they’d start tickling him again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it now he’d cum – not that he’d been able to stand it before.
But the boys weren’t that cruel. They cleaned themselves up, leaving Dave to wonder what was going to happen now, and grinned at one another. “Wow!” said Gary. “That was amazing.”
“Yes, he sure is a good subject,” replied Star.
“What now?” asked Cheow. Gently he ran a single finger down Dave’s side. He would not have objected if they’d decided to tickle him some more.
“No, Cheow,” laughed Star, “that’s enough.”
Cheow looked slightly disappointed but then smiled. “Yeah, I suppose so,” he said, grinning.
“Okay,” said Star, “masks on.”
They put their ski masks back on and packed up their gear. Star lifted Dave’s head and removed the hood. Dave blinked in the light and took deep breaths, relaxed for the first time since they’d arrived now he knew that the torture was over.
Star sat on the side of the bed. “Now David, I hope that’s taught you a lesson. If you don’t lay off tickling Colin, you’ll get another visit from us – and next time the torture won’t be so mild.”
Dave stared at Star. “That was mild?” he asked.
Star smiled. “Oh yes, that was mild – and short. We can make it much worse for you and make it last a lot longer.”
Dave considered this in silence. He looked at the three sexy boys.
“Can I make a request? Can I see your faces, please?”
Star shook his head and smiled under the mask. “Afraid not. Sorry.”
He desperately wanted to see what these sexy torturers looked like – he was sure that Star, at least, was beautiful.
“However, there’s a little present for you in the top drawer of the dressing table. You can have it when we’ve gone.”
“How are you going to go? You’re not going to leave me tied up here, are you? I’ll starve to death.”
Star laughed. “Don’t worry.” He untied Dave’s left hand.
Dave ran it slowly over Star’s leather jacket, staring thoughtfully into the blue eyes visible through the openings in the mask as the boy looked down at him. He whispered quietly, “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
Star held his wrist. “I know, ” he said.
Gary had been taking socks out of a drawer and putting them over his hand, one inside the other. He now took them all off together and handed them to Star, who put them over Dave’s free hand, fastening them with a piece of duct tape. “You’ll be able to untie yourself, but it may take you a little time – enough for us to get away without your following us.”
Dave’s mind was working. He’d use his teeth to have that off in no time.
But Star shook his head and smiled again. “No teeth.” He ripped a large piece of tape off the roll and stuck it firmly over Dave’s mouth. “Bye,” he said, and the three boys left.
It took Dave eight minutes to get himself free of the restraints and the first thing he did was to look in the drawer. There was a cassette inside. He took it down to the living room, taking the stairs three at a time, and popped it into the cassette player. His own voice, muffled by the leather hood, filled the room:
“Oh God, don’t let me cum – PLEASE don’t let me cum . AAAAhhhhh! No! N-n-n-no! N-not my armp-p-pits! Hahahahaha!!! Aaaahhh! No! NO! Ehehehehehehe hahahaha HA! Heeeeeeeeeeee!!! Ho haha p-p-p-please, n-n-n-not THERE! Oh God, my feet – my f-f-feet! It t-t-t-t-t-t-t–TICKLES!!! Oh GOD – please STOP! I’ll d-do ANYTHIG!! PLEASE S-S-STOP. Oh no. Oh no. I’m gonna cum . I’m gonna cum . M-m-MUSTN’T CUM !! M-M-MUSTN’T CUM !!!!!!”
Dave sat down slowly in the armchair and played the tape through from beginning to end. He closed his eyes, imagined being back on the bed, helpless, hooded, being worked on by those three sexy boys – and had a long, beautiful wank.
“Hi, Colin.” Dave threw his towel onto the bench and sat down beside the boy. “How’re you feeling? Ready for the match?”
Colin looked at him sideways. “Yeah. You’re in good spirits. Have a good evening yesterday?”
Dave smiled. “Oh, yeah.” He jumped on the boy, slipped his hands up the youth’s T-shirt and dug his fingers into the ticklish sides. Colin collapsed in a heap onto the floor laughing hysterically. Dave was on top of him, holding him down with the weight of his body. He used his own feet to force the boy’s legs apart, slipped his hand up the leg of Colin’s shorts and began tickling his balls. The helpless boy’s cock got rock-hard in seconds flat. His screams of laughter reverberated around the bare locker room as Dave’s hands were everywhere – tickling his sides, tickling his armpits, his feet, his thighs, knees…
“L-l-l-looks like you need another lesson from my friends,” Colin managed to say between shrieks of hysterics.
Dave paused for a moment, grinning at the boy. “You could be right. You just could be right.”
Eddie
Posted on 30 April 2014 | 5:00 pm
Football jock Cooper endures more bound gang banging from his teammates in the conclusion of Baby’s Incorporated.
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Baby’s Incorporated – Part 8
by GuysGoNakieForMe
Series: Baby’s Incorporated
Tethered to a hammock inside the blackbox, quarterback Cooper McLaughlin’s muscles ached. Anus and face hot-waxed smooth, doused with perfume, his plump lips painted a deep, shiny magenta, Cooper was experiencing the revenge of Coach Capilletti. Coop had participated in the Coach’s forced milking by giving the Coach a nice prostate massage…with his eight inch uncut cock! Now the tables were turned, and Coop was the one immobilized. The roofies in his system pretty much meant he was powerless to refuse what was happening…as if he had a choice.
Outside the box, his buds from the football team were already lined up, ready to take their turn with the groupie slut who’d volunteered her mouth and ass to the team, not realizing who their whore REALLY was. He’d been warned by the Coach not to speak or reveal in any way who it was they really were about to fuck — and Coop as all to willing to keep this horrible secret. Even worse, the silicon milker that had coaxed load after load from Coach Capiletti’s unwilling balls was now attached to his own phallus. Heated and automatically lubing his pole every 30 seconds as it hummed and gripped around him, Coop truly felt like a whore as his erect cock betrayed him.
Jess Spencer had already dumped a huge load across his tongue, painting his face in the process, and his ass-cherry had been taken by the latino football stud he’d once called his best friend. Now Coach Capiletti was asking, “Who’s next? Step up boys. This bitch is hungry!”
There was laughing, high-fiving, the sound of large young palms slapping against broad muscular backs. Bobby Wagner stepped up to the hole nearest Coop’s mouth. He had curly blond shoulder length hair, and his deep tan made him look more like a surfer that a football player. When he broke into a grin, two dimples were chiseled into his cheeks. Now he was grinning that grin.
“Girl, here’s what I want you to do. Trace your tongue from my balls to the head of my dick. I want you to worship this cock before you suck it!”
He crouched beside the box, gripping the ends with two hands. He lowered his fat, lemon-sized nuts onto the slut’s tongue and released a sigh as he felt her trace over their surface. Each nut was protected by a platinum blond nest of blond fur and Coop really had to work to make them wet.
“Atta girl!”, Bobby encouraged, “that’s real nice!”
Coop slurped wetly, and the sound was both delicious and obscene, sending a bunch of the football players fishing into their jockstraps to pull out their cocks. Bobby shifted so that his balls pulled free of the whore’s mouth and now the hungry tongue was tracing up the tumescent cockshaft. Coop paused mid-way up as his tongue made contact with the rifer of salty-sweet precum dripping down the shaft.
“A little taste of what’s to cum baby… if you keep doing what you’re doing!”, Bobby smirked.
Shifting a final time, Bobby placed his cock knob against the “girl’s” lips.
“Kiss it baby…Just keep kissing it.”
Coops lips preesed softly against the head at first, lips parting slowly with each successive kiss. Bobby watched in dumbfounded amazement as the whore kept taking more of his dick in “her” mouth with heath kiss.
“Aw fuck, he said, his eyes rolling back in his head, “She is gobbling my dick right up!”
Staring ahead, Coop could see the beautiful fluffy halo of blond curls at the base of the fat cockshaft, forcing his throat to relax so that he could bury his nose in their downy softness. As he got closer, he could see his teammate’s ridged abs tighten with each swallow, until at last his lower lip was buffered against the fullness of Bobby Wagner’s ballsac and his nose was buried in the Ivory Snow- freshness of his golden pubes.
“Yeah girl, that’s fuckin’ awesome”, Bobby screamed as he began to throatfuck his prone and disguised quarterback.
Justin Donatelli, took that as his cue to step up to the back hole and take his turn. “Keep her busy there, Bobby,” Justin called out, “and she’ll never know what just hit her.
Justin was 6’4, dark hair, dark eyes, furry buddy. He’d been the first one on the block to grow pubes. He’d had a five ‘o’clock shadow in the sixth grade. He had as much testosterone coursing thru his veins as he had blood. but he was amazingly gentle with the whore… at first.
He traced his hands over her sweet ass-cheekslike he was petting a small rabbit. He gently parted them, spit onto the pretty pink hole and slipped two long, Italian fingers inside. Though her mouth was full of Bobby Wagner’s cock, he could sworn that she gently moaned when he fingered her.
“You like that babydoll? Then you are going to love this…”
His cock was nearly purple as he pressed the fist-sized knob agains the hole.
“Don’t be frightened, babydoll, I won’t hurt you…much”
Grabbing the box for leverage, Justin pushed forward. Her ass was already broken in, prelubed with the cum of his team mate, so Justin didn’t need to push nearly as hard as he would have liked. As he shoved himself into the fire-oven warmth of her asshole, he imagined what it would have been like to take her ass dry. Still, this little whore accepted his mammoth cock. Was she pushing back to take more. Shit yeah she was!
The milker around Coop McLaughlin’s cock increased its speed just as the studs on either end started to ream his holes.
“Her throat is bottomless,” Wagner called across to Donatelli.
“This bitch is milking my dick like she was trained for it,” Donatelli said, swallowing.
Once again, Coop McLaughlin was working both ends, determined to make both team mates cum at the same time. But he felt Donatelli pull out. What was going on.
Donatelli was now beside Wagner.
“Just let her suck on the knob”, he instructed.
Swirling his tongue in agonizing circle’s around Bobby’s cock head, it didn’t take long till he was on the edge.
“Open your fucking mouth WIDE bitch”, Donatelli barked
Coop extended his tongue and opened wide just in time to feel TWO cock knobs side b side against his lips. An arm around one another for balance, Bobby Wagner and Justin Donatelli started shooting their loads into the whore’s mouth at the same time.
“Fuck Yeah.”he heard from two different voices as two thick cum streams hosed his mouth.
“Lean your head back bitch, don’t lose any. And don’t swallow till I say so” Justin barked.
Coop’s mouth was quickly filling, almost to the brink, with cum.
Suddenly he heard clicks; saw flashes. Coop realized his overflowing mouth was being preserved, digitally, door posterity.
“Now swallow, whore”
Coop gulped it back, choking as much as he could down, but some overflowed his lips and glazed his chin.
Justin scooped it up and fed it to him, letting the submissive little slut lick his finger clean.
“Say thank you, bitch” Justin ordered.
Knowing he could never speak, Coop McLaughlin did the only thing he COULD do. He gratefully kissed Justin Donatelli’s spit and cum glazed finger.
———————
Trussed to a hammock inside the blackbox, football stud Cooper McLaughlin’s muscles throbbed. His asshole and face had been hot-waxed smooth and he had been drenched with cheap perfume; his temptingly thick lips had been coated with glossy red lipstick as Cooper was experiencing the revenge of Coach Capilletti. Coop had joined in the Coach’s forced cock-milking by some fucked up fertility doctor. He’s been lured there under the pretext that he’d be meeting some football scouts. Instead he found his coach tethered to a crossbar, his massive dick suctioned to a silicon milking machine. The doctor was being paid to get the coach, whose potency was legend (at 28 he already had a brood of kids, and he’d knocked up a bunch more women beyond that). Once in captivity, rich women who preferred to remain private, laid on gurneys on the other side of a protective wall as the coach’s cock was milked into a pneumatic tube that blasted his sperm deep into their cervixes. When he arrived Cooper had found the coach bound, glistening with sweat and moaning softly as his cock was milked for the fifth or sixth time. The doctor met him, and offered the football stud $1,000 to help the Coach produce a seventh load by giving the Coach a nice prostate massage… with his eight inch uncut cock! After getting the coach to cum, Cooper had blasted his own load — twelve thick creamy blasts — directly into the coach’s mouth. After seeing the potency of this young stud, the doctor had drugged Coop and released the Coach to supervise the cock-milking of Cooper McLaughlin. Now Coop was the one immobilized. The roofies in his system pretty much meant he was powerless to refuse what was happening…as if he had a choice.
The doctor had invited the rest of the football team under quite a different pretext — an anonymous female groupie wanted to service the team… under two conditions: 1) that nobody could see her face; and 2) that her pussy aws off limits. The team could use her ass and mouth as many times as they wanted, but no pussy.
The four members of the the football team who’d already taken advantage of the groupie-slut were sitting down, catching their breath, getting ready for sloppy seconds. Meanwhile, Adam Polaski strolled up to the whole in a way that could only be described as “cocky” in every way. He was 6’4″ of solid, rippling muscle and looked more like the stare of a Greek god than a college football player — and he knew it. His 9″ fucker was already hard, purple and dripping.
“Give it a kiss, whore,” he grumbled in a deep bass baritone.
Coop, lipstick smeared, face glued down with two loads of cum, parted his lips around the purple knob and began to worship it with his lips and tongue. He had no choice. The roofs he’d ingested had somehow stopped his will to resist and he had to submit to whatever carnal torture his teammates ordered him to endure.
Even worse, the silicon milker that had coaxed load after load from Coach Capiletti’s unwilling balls was now attached to his own phallus. Heated and automatically lubing his pole every 30 seconds as it hummed and gripped around him. Subliminally he was beginning to associate the delicious feelings on his cock with the action of sucking cock.
“Mmmmm, that’s nice,” the Polish lineman moaned as Cooper swirled his tongue around the fat mushroom knob. Then he pulled out and did something totally unexpected. Adam Polaski kneeled down to the hole in the box and kissed the mouth of the female groupie.
Coop felt the rough stubble grind against his chin as Adam Polaski slipped his tongue into his mouth. His breath tasted of beer and cigarettes, but still, for some reason it made Cooper McLaughlin’s cock throb.
Adam stood back up and said, “Now get back to work, girl,” and slipped his knob back between the willingly parted lips. Adam started to buck his hips ever cogently, and with each thrust his cock went in a little further… a little further… until the knob hit the opening to the sluts throat.
“Take a nice deep breath through your nose, girl,” was all the warning Coop got before the fat purple knob pierced his gullet and was stuffed into his throat.
The crowd laughed and clapped at the sound of choking as Coop frantically tried to get the cock out of his throat. Each convulsive grip, though, only made a nice tight caress around Adam’s fat Polish cock. At last, the lineman pulled back and everyone could hear the bitch in the box frantically gulping in air. They laughed.
“Maybe this could help keep the whore focused,” Rusty Harris said, stepping to the rear of the box. The punter was only 5’8, but it was lean hard muscle. A rippling eight-pack adorned the alabaster flesh of the redhead. His smooth chest was capped with puffy pink nipples, and in contrast his cock was rock hard.
Rusty brought his dick to the groupie’s asshole. “That ass is so sweet and round,” he thought to himself, “and I am going to ruin it.”
Though his cock was smaller than those that had fucked the ass earlier, he was determined to fill it like it had never been filled before.
Grabbing the cheeks and parting them, he brought his knob to the soft pink hole, pre-lubd with the cum of his teammates. He stuffed the knob in easily, pausing a moment to enjoy the furnace-heat of her ass. Then, grabbing the edges of the lucite box, he let all 7 inches slide inside. There was slight resistance, but just enough to make her ass nice and tight. Now inside, Rusty began to piston-fuck her ass like a jack-hammer. He was like an animal in heat as he reamed that hole. His teammates watched in awe as the little punter fucked that bitch hard and deep, his eight-pack contracting with each thrust. Somehow, though, he was pacing himself, so he didn’t cum too soon. He was determined to make this last and to make this an event that their fan would never forget.
Adam, meanwhile, kept throat-fucking Coop. The massive lineman would ram his cock balls-deep allowing Coop’s spasming throat to milk his dick, then release it just in time for the bitch to catch another breath of air before being stuffed with cock again.
Coop was dizzy from the oxygen deprivation, and all his blood seemed to be going to his rock-hard cock, which was being milked mechanically as it was encased within the silicon tube.
From behind, Rusty had finally reached the point of no return.
“Take it bitch, take it” the horny little redhead screamed as four…five…six molten blasts of cockmilk blasted up Cooper McLaughlin’s used rectum. Rusty’s final slams moved the box forward a bit, forcing Coop’s throat even further around Adam’s dick. This was just the added sensation Adam needed to unload. “Oh sweet Jesus”, Adam moaned as he flooded Cooper’s throat and mouth with syrupy seed. He blasted faster than Cooper could swallow and some actually came out Cooper’s nose. Still the massive lineman would not pull out. Not until he’d unloaded fully.
At last he pulled his cock from the groupie-whore’s mouth. “Girlie, get it all.” Coop licked the cook clean, and as he did he felt Rusty wipe the last remnants of his cum onto his ass cheeks. “Thanks, that was fun, bitch”, the redhead laughed, his smooth pale chest and abs a glistening mirror of sweat.
Just as Coop lapped up the last remnants of jizz from Adam Polaski, the doctor remotely turned up the speed of the cock-milker, driving him over the edge. With Adam’s cock resting on his tongue he began to moan, shooting thick white cum into the collection tube. His cumload was shot through the tube and directly into the waiting pussy of one of the doctor’s clients.
“Oooooooooh, god, yessssssss,” the client moaned into a little microphone near her head. The sound came back out through strategically placed speakers inside the box, making it sound like they were Coop’s orgasmic moans.
“Fuck, this whore just cummed,” Adam laughed to the crowd. “I think she wants more.”
“Not a problem” responded a voice in the crowd. Four more football players stripped off their pants, their cocks already rock hard. Inside the box, the roofies were beginning to wear off. No longer bound by what the drugs were forcing him to do, Coop was faced with a choice. Continue to service his buddies, or reveal the awful truth of what was going on…..
GuysGoNakieForMe
Posted on 18 April 2014 | 5:00 pm
Hope you enjoy it.
[[A Play With Nothing But Sex]]
[Main Characters]
Simon Patterfield (S): Slut.
John (J): Best friend of Simon.
Professor (P) Sparks (Sparky): Lecturer of Simon’s.
Dave (D) the Security Guard: Dorm Security Guard.
[Chapter 1] (Setting: Professor Sparks Private Office)
Professor Sparks: “You like this don’t you? DON’T YOU?”
Simon Patterfield: “Yes… I like this very much, sir.”
Professor Sparks: “Yeah. Oh, oh. Why the fuck is your ass so tight? FUCKK!”
Simon Patterfield: “Ahhhhh. P… P… Pro…fessor… Sparks. Ah. Ah. Ah.”
Professor Sparks: “You fucking whore! Take it, bitch! TAKE IT!”
Simon Patterfield: “Yes… Yes… Give it to me, sir… I need you.”
P: “Beg for my cock, you stupid faggot!! Beg me, MORE! You know you want me? You’ve wanted me ever since you came into my classroom. TELL ME THE TRUTH!”
S: “Yes… Oh, God! Yes… Yes… I wanted you. I wanted to get…Ah… close to you… Ah… and see… see if you were like… me.”
P: ” Like, YOU? ME? LIKE YOU?”
S: “Ahhhh…”
P: “I’m… nothing like you, you WHORE! Look around you, bitch. You’re in my office, lying on my desk letting me ram all my 7 inch cock in you. AND YOU THINK YOU’RE LIKE ME?”
S: “I… thought… thought…”
P: “You thought fucking wrong! This is where you sluts belong, under a master who FUCKING OWNS YOU. Got that? Did you hear? I OWN YOU! SAY IT! SAY IT NOW”
S: “But… I’m…”
P: “THAT’S IT! I GAVE YOU ENOUGH CHANCES ALREADY!”
S: “Awww! Sir! Please don’t take your dick out of me… Sir, please, I’ll play your master and slave game. Please I promise to be good.”
P: “A GAME? WHAT? THIS IS NOT A FUCKING GAME! You LIVE for my pleasures. Got it? Ummm… and to think I still have those videos of you in that GAY STRIP CLUB. Want me to show that to everyone?”
S: “Please, sir. Don’t. It’ll… it’ll ruin my whole life here. I… I’ll do anything you ask. Just please don’t give those videos away.”
P: “Remember I OWN you. You’re my property. UNDERSTAND?”
S: “Yes… Oh, please. I need your dick inside me, I live to pleasure you. You own me. I’m hardly worth your service. I’m your slave, and you’re my hot master.”
P: “Good. Now that we’ve got that settled, strip. That’s it… fully naked now…Mmm…”
S: “Ah.. please don’t my… my pecks are just a little sensitive…”
P: “A little sensitive, eh? What if I do this with my tongue?”
S: “AH. Oh god, yeah. Swirl that tongue of yours, sir. Oh, oh shit.”
P: “You pecks are… delicious… Ah.”
S: “Oh sir! That feels… OH MY GOD! Please sir, can I cum now? Please?”
P: “NO! Not until I’ve gotten off!”
S: “But sir… I… I…”
P: “Get your fucking hands of your dick now!! Do you want me to tie your hands together? DO YOU?”
S: “Please sir! You’ve had your fun… I’ve, I’ve not gotten off since last night.”
P: “Last night? LAST NIGHT? You, fucking SLUT! TAKE THAT [ slap ] and THAT [ double slaps ]”
S: “Sir…”
P: “You whore! Your erected dick is just jumping with excitement at me slapping your face. Isn’t it? ISN’T IT?”
S: “Yes sir.”
P: “Tell me how much you like this!”
S: “Oh, master. I jump with excitement and pleasure when you dominate me with your sexual power. I crave for you’re cum, your body and your dick. Everything that I have and own belongs to you. I live to serve you. I am never complete unless I’m with you. You are my only master.
[ Dave enters ]
Dave: “Well I’m not sure about `only master’, right Sparky?”
Professor Sparks (Sparky): “Nice of you to drop in, Dave, like what you see?”
S: “D… D… Dave… What… This… This isn’t what it looks like? We… We… were role playing for a… a part… Please don’t tell anyone.”
Dave: “Cut the crap, Simon. I know about your little evenings with Sparky here. But I just couldn’t believe it when Sparky told me about your sexual needs.”
S: “You… planned this?”
P: “That’s right. I figured, I could make a profit out of you, remember what you just said. I own you. Also Dave has been here a while. He was taking pictures of you with his camera. Do you see?”
S: “W…What???”
Dave: “Yeah these pictures are the bomb. I just can’t believe it was you Simon. The captain of the basket ball team is a fucking gay slutty faggot.”
S: “Please Dave. I… Don’t tell any of the guys.”
Dave: “Well then. I’m your second master. Got that?”
S: “Yes master Dave.”
P: “Well isn’t that sorted out. Want to join us Dave?”
Dave: “Can’t. I have guard duty today now. I just came over to give my slave, a little present.” [ Dave hands Simon a bag with some unknown contents in it]
S: “Thank you… Master.”
Dave: “I expect you to leave your room unlocked tonight. And I expect you to follow the instructions from the bag, understand?”
S: “Yes sir!”
Dave: “Good. That’s sorted then. I’ll see you later, Sparky.”
[Dave left]
P: “Now. Where were we? Ah, yes. Lie down on my desk. That’s it. Legs up in the air.”
S: “Master, are you going to fuck me now? Please sir, will you?”
P: “Damn! I love to hear you beg. Here it comes slut! Hot and hard! Here it… AHHH!”
S: “FUCKKKKKK SIR! AHHHHH!”
P: “Yeahh, how do you like it now you stupid slut? Want me to fuck you? DO YOU?”
S: “Oh yes, please sir, fuck me hard, fuck me master.”
P: “You got it, fag.”
S: “Oh god.. Faster, sir. PLEASE I NEED YOU!”
P: “Oh fuck yes! You fucking love this don’t you? My cock sliding into the tight little ass that I OWN! You want more, don’t you? TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!”
S: “Oh, sir. I need you to fuck me harder and faster, because I live to pleasure you, I need you to fill me up because I am so unworthy.”
P: “OH FUCK! Your about to get, are you ready, slut? ARE YOU? And to think, after this you’ll want more, you worthless piece of crap.”
S: “Oh please, I’m ready for you, sir.”
P: “Oh… JESUS CHRIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”
S: “Ahhhhhh.”
P: “You like my hot man see in you, don’t you? Ha! It’s oozing out from your ass. Do you want to taste my cock, slut?”
S: “Yes, please.”
P: “Here, suck me. That’s right. Oh, damn! I forgot how hot your mouth in. Ooooo! Your mouth is so damn hot. SUCK ME FASTER, SLUT!”
[John enters]
To Be Continued… If you like it.
Posted on 2 July 2013 | 2:24 pm
“You should leave, Timmy” Mr. Duke said as I stood before him, my knees shaking so badly and my head spinning so much that it was a wonder that I was able to remain standing.
I couldn’t leave, and it wasn’t because my Science teacher had a hold of my belt, because I wanted to be there more than anything. After all, this is what I had been hoping for when Mr. Duke had invited me to his place.
All through my senior year I had fantasized about this tall, grey haired man as he stood at the head of the class, wondering about what was beneath those baggy trousers, and on those occasions when he would come around and check our work, I just about died.
Mr. Duke always wore short sleeved white shirts, and when he would be standing next to me my dick would get hard looking at his arms. They weren’t muscular so much as wiry, but what really turned me on was the silver hair that covered them, the grey billowing like wheat in a field.
Mr. Duke was gay, or at least that was what the rumors said, but nobody had any proof of it. I had always hoped the rumors were true, and when he spent a lot of time working with me I had hoped it was because I thought I was cute and not because I wasn’t that great in science.
At 18 I was a bit of a butterball, not fat but a little chubby, and while over the next year I would become a more impressive physical specimen in most ways by shedding pounds and working out, in Mr. Duke’s kitchen that evening I was anything but.
Gangsterfuck.com
The evening had progressed from him wishing me well and encouraging me to continue in some field of science, to the point where I was standing before him while he unbuckled my belt.
“I shouldn’t” Mr. Duke was saying, but he didn’t stop and I didn’t stop him, although I was starting to become nervous as my jeans dropped to the kitchen floor.
Mr. Duke was staring straight ahead, at my white fruit of the looms which I were hoping were still clean, and as he did I strained to get a little life down there, so at least some kind of bulge would appear.
As it often did when I was nervous, not only did my little dick not respond, it felt like it was retreating into my intestines, and not even feeling Mr. Duke’s hand massaging it from outside of the cotton was helping.
“Are you scared, Timmy?” Mr. Duke asked me, as if my quivering legs weren’t a giveaway, and while I couldn’t speak I nodded.
“Me too, Timmy,” Mr. Duke said as he took his horn-rimmed glasses off and set them on the kitchen table before returning to me. “It’s okay to be scared, but I won’t hurt you. You know that, right?”
I nodded as Mr. Duke’s hand slid a little lower, probably trying to find my balls, which had also retracted from nerves. I tried to concentrate on his arms, those profusely hairy arms that had always excited me, and tried to relax.
Mr. Duke liked me. That was why I was there, and while he may not have been thrilled at what his hand was feeling, at least he hadn’t laughed or sent me on my way, so I felt some of the tension begin to melt away.
Through squinting eyelids I looked down as Mr. Duke gently lifted the elastic on my briefs away from my belly and lowered them down past the sad nest of golden hair and down past my dick, which looked like a mushroom, and not a very healthy one at that.
Mr. Duke let out a little sigh before leaning forward and taking me into his mouth, sucking on my dick as he slid my underwear down my legs. I could feel his chin against my taut nut sac as he rolled my penis around his tongue, the warm wet mouth unlike any hand it had been in before.
My hands went down to Mr. Duke’s arms, which were on my hips, and as I slid my fingers through the long downy hair, I felt my cock start to get hard. Now Mr. Duke was able to move his lips up and down the shaft, and in no time he was sucking on my erection, which had blossomed to the slender not quite 5″ I had been “blessed” with.
Mr. Duke didn’t seem to care, and as his mouth kept going from the tip of the gumdrop glans right on down to the base, my entire body started tingling. I didn’t even have time to warn Mr. Duke before I started ejaculating into his mouth, a series of jets that had my science teacher gasping as he struggled to swallow it all.
By then I was crouched over, hugging Mr. Duke’s head in as much as an effort to remain upright as it was a sign of affection, and Mr. Duke still had my limp wiener in his mouth as I straightened up.
“I pray you aren’t mad at me, Timmy.”
“Mad?” I asked incredulously as I looked down at Mr. Duke, because of everything I was at that moment, mad was not among them. “Gee no.”
“Have you ever been with a man before?”
“Sort of,” I said, because I had experienced a couple of encounters with guys my age, but the only time I had been with a man, after he had given me a ride he had thrown me out of his car after taking my pants part way down.
“Would you like to go to bed me with me?” he asked, and I nodded, pulling up my pants so that I could follow him down the hall.
I might have looked goofy, waddling into Mr. Duke’s bedroom holding my jeans up with my hands, but my science teacher wasn’t laughing, just smiling as he stood in the doorway and ushered me inside.
The room was minimally decorated, but the bed was massive. It looked like a water-bed, which was something that was a current craze, and there were dim lights at the headboard which did more illumination than I was comfortable with, but since Mr. Duke had seemed to like what he had seen so far I let him lift my t-shirt off my head as my jeans fell to the floor.
“You’re such a sweet looking young man,” Mr Duke said as he ran his hands over my fleshy and smooth chest.
Sweat was trickling down my sides, and I saw that the shirt Mr. Duke was wearing had large damp patches under his arms too. He was still wearing his tie, so I reached up and started to fiddle with it.
“I am rather overdressed, aren’t I?” Mr. Duke said, briskly pulling on his tie and yanking it off, and when he undid the top button of his shirt I let out a gasp.
“Can I?” I asked timidly before reaching for the next button on his shirt, and after Mr. Duke nodded my shaky fingers worked on the rest of the buttons.
I don’t know whether this man, who was probably close to 60 years old, ever thought of himself as sexy, but to me he sure was, even though his chest was what you might call scrawny. The moment that top button came open and exposed the silver and grey hair that grew up to his collarbone, I was in love.
Never having seen Mr. Duke in anything but a buttoned up shirt, up until then I had only fantasized about what Mr. Duke looked like. In my mind, I had pictured him with a hairy chest, but even in my wildest dreams I was not prepared for the swirling mat of hair that covered his chest and stomach.
My eyes were blurry from the sweat that was pouring off of my forehead as I pulled off his shirt and ran my hands through the luxurious pelt of hair. Soft and thick, my fingers seemed lost in the jungle, and Mr. Duke seemed as shocked as he was pleased at my reaction to it.
Gordon Dewey, the guy I had exchanged hand jobs with the night that everybody else went to the senior prom, had a little hair around his nipples and the center of his chest, but nothing like this.
“You like hair, Tim?” Mr. Duke asked, and I blushed as I nodded, hypnotized by the look and feel of it.
What would Mr. Duke think if he knew that I watched wrestling on Saturday afternoons in hopes that George “The Animal” Steele would be on, and if he was, that I would be jerking off wildly while imagining him putting a bear hug on me?
Maybe it was because I was so pitifully endowed with hair that I found it so fascinating and erotic. The faint dusting on the lower insides of my calves, the soap pad-sized tuft over my dick and the sparse wisps under my arms had always been a source of embarrassment for me, so seeing a hirsute man like Mr. Duke in the flesh was a dream come true.
Mr. Duke laughed when he felt my dick, hard again, poke him in the thigh, and when I looked down I saw a bulge in his trousers, even though they were baggy.
“Can I – you know?” I mumbled.
“You don’t have to, you know,” Mr. Duke said. “I’m afraid that you’ll find me much less attractive than you are.”
“Wanna bet?” I said under my breath as I made undoing a belt seem like a challenge.
When I finally got it undone Mr. Duke’s slacks dropped to the floor like a rock, causing his wallet and keys to fall out, but he told me not to worry when I started to pick everything up.
Was Mr. Duke an Adonis? No. His legs were as bony as the rest of his body was, but they had a nice coating of hair on them, although not as profuse as his upper torso was.
What got my attention were his boxer shorts, but it wasn’t the ivory and brown striped underwear that had my interest. Instead, it was the prominent bulge that was trying to tear through the fabric had got my heart racing.
My hand went up and rubbed the end of the bulge, causing Mr. Duke to let out a soft sigh, and as I let my hand follow the bulge upward my breath came out in a series of ragged huffs.
“I – I always – when I – when you were in class,” I jabbered, trying to make myself semi-coherent. “I always though about what you would look like – you know – naked.”
“As did I with you,” Mr. Duke interrupted.
“But you – you’re so…”
“I’m not disappointed,” Mr. Duke said, interrupting me again. “I hope you aren’t either.”
“No,” I managed to say as Mr. Duke’s hands came up to my shoulders, and as he gave just the slightest pressure on them my knees cooperated.
There I was, on my knees in front of my old science teacher, with the bulge in his boxers right in front of my nose. I could smell the musky aroma of him as my hands came up and undid the snaps at the top of Mr. Duke’s boxers.
The first thing as I lowered the boxer shorts was hair – a whole lot of silver and grey hair that continued down from his stomach – and then I saw the stump of his cock, at least the part not overgrown with hair.
Beige in hue, the shaft of his cock was monstrously thick, with a vein that looked as wide as my entire cock, but as more and more of it was exposed the width of his penis began to lessen.
Just when I began to wonder when I would get the the head of Mr. Duke’s cock, his manhood sprang out from under the briefs, slapping me in the cheek when it did.
Mr. Duke wasn’t circumcised, which made what swayed in front of me look all the more unnerving. I could see the tip of his dick tucked inside his foreskin, as well as the outline of his glans beneath it, the shape of which resembled a jumbo olive.
A spear. Mr. Duke’s cock looked like a spear, and as my teacher reached down and peeled his foreskin back – probably sensing my unfamiliarity with it – the comparatively small head of his weapon looked out of place on the end of a penis that had to be twice as long as my own.
I was afraid to touch it, even though I really wanted to. My inexperience had me frozen, and when I looked up and Mr. Duke looking down at me, I admitted that I was in over my head. Exchanged hand jobs with a couple of guys did not prepare me for this.
“I’m sorry Mr. Duke – I never,” I stammered as Mr. Duke helped me to my feet.
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“First of all, Timmy, I’m Donald, not Mr. Duke anymore,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and cuddling me to his chest. “And it’s okay. I told you that you didn’t need to do anything to me.”
“I want to though,” I said, and feeling that warm fur was reassuring, not to mention the sensation of his cock pressed against me.
Even though he was about a head taller than I was, our cocks somehow managed to find each other, and after feeling his against mine, my erection quickly returned.
“Here,” Mr. Duke said. “Just relax and we’ll just get to know each other.”
Donald Duke was 58, and had been married once long ago, until he could take the lying no longer. He loved his work and although he sometimes found it tough, he never so much as touched a student.
“You were the most difficult to resist,” Mr. Duke said. “I know you lost your Dad, and I sensed you were lonely and insecure. A lot like I was at your age.”
“You were?”
“I was indeed. That, and the fact that I found you such a sweet young man, gave me a lot of anxious moments, but I managed to wait until you graduated. And here you are.”
To this day, I have no idea how a pudgy and thoroughly unremarkable 18 year old such as I managed to make such an impression on him, but I was glad I did.
Mr. Duke went down on me again, and all too soon I was ejaculating down his throat. He had been kneeling at my hip, and I had finally managed to reach over and grab his cock, stroking his long prong slowly while his lips and tongue brought me to climax.
After I came, Mr. Duke eased down onto the bed, and when he did I assumed the position that my teacher had been in. I reached down and took his long spear in my hand, the semi-erect organ flopping around a bit as I tried to bring it upright.
As my hands squeezed his manhood, I felt the blood surge under my fingers and he became erect. What an incredible cock he had, I thought as my hands wrapped around the shaft of what looked like a rocket-ship, with my hands unable to reach up as far as the nose cone.
I began to move my hands up and down, the sight of the head of Mr. Duke’s cock popping in and out of his foreskin making me smile. Maybe if I hadn’t been circumcised, the presence of a foreskin might make mine look a bit more impressive, I briefly thought before looking down at my dick, which was poking Mr. Duke’s bony hip, and I laughed at the thought.
“Is this okay?” I asked my teacher, and he smiled and nodded.
“Feels delightful,” Mr. Duke replied as he sighed, linking his hands behind his head and looking down at my jerking him off.
I shivered as he did that, my eyes going to the deep hollows of Mr. Duke’s armpits, which were overflowing with thick tufts of hair. Without realizing it at first, I started rubbing the underside of my dick against his hip.
Mr. Duke smiled when he saw where my eyes were fixed, and then looked down on what I was doing with my dick, leaving a gooey trail of pre-cum.
“Sorry,” I said, while trying to go back to my hand job.
“No, Timmy. It’s okay,” Mr. Duke said quickly. “Truly it is. Don’t be ashamed. I’ll never judge you. Feel free to do anything you want to me. I’m having the most wonderful time.”
Hearing that, I bowed my head down and licked his nipple, feeling the hardness of the nub while my eyes stayed at the thick tuft of arm under his slender arm. He smelled nice – none perfumed or sweaty but a delightful mixture of the two, as if the chemical enhancements had been eroded by his manly perspiration.
My tongue slid over, and as it did Mr. Duke didn’t laugh, but sighed instead as i ran a very tentative tongue through the moist fur. Emboldened, my licking became more like ravaging, with me chewing and nuzzling while continuing to jerk him off.
Mr. Duke not only indulged me, but seemed to relish my odd affections, encouraging me to lean over and lick his other armpit. When I did, leaning over his body to lavish affection on the wild jungle of hair under his arm, I felt a slight tickling sensation under my own arm, and when I looked back I saw Mr. Duke’s tongue straining upwards, dabbing at the little spray of hairs tucked under my arm.
I came, and although whether it was seeing Mr. Duke, the feel of his tongue, or the fact that my dick had been pressing on his stomach after I leaned over him, I ejaculated all over him.
I was humiliated at my utter lack of control, but Mr. Duke didn’t seem to mind that I hosed him down with my semen. Instead, he let me go back to jerking him off and and sucking on his cock, which was now crimson and angry looking, swollen to become even larger than ever.
My hands were almost numb, and my jaw was aching, even though my mouth couldn’t get down anywhere near the really thick part, and I was wondering what I would do when he came. Would I be able to swallow it like he had me?
“Why don’t you take a break,” Mr. Duke suggested, seeming to realize that i was running out of energy despite my comparative youth.
“I want you to cum too,” I said, marveling at his self-control, which was as amazing as my complete lack of it.
“I will, Timmy,” Mr. Duke said as he positioned me on my hands and knees before climbing up behind me. “I want to see more of you. Oh, look at that. What a beautiful ass you have.”
Mr. Duke’s hands were squeezing my butt, spreading my legs and fondling my little nut sac while I knelt and stared at the headboard. He asked me if I ever did this, just before I felt his finger rubbing my anus.
“Once,” I answered, and then he inserted his finger, sliding it slowly through the puckered ring and corkscrewing it deep into my rectum.
“Did you ever do that?” He asked, and I told him once, although Mr. Duke’s finger was way longer than mine, and was probing deep.
“Feels good though, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I grunted.
“How about this then?” he asked, slipping his finger out of me, and after his digit left my ass I was sorry, but only for a second.
I lurched forward when I felt something warm and wet rubbing my ass knot, and when I felt breathing and the pressing of his face between my ass cheeks I figured out what was happening.
“Ohhh – yes,” I answered regarding whether it felt good.
It felt more than good, and when Mr. Duke’s tongue worked into my ass my arms gave way. Now my face was in the pillow, which made my ass go higher, making it even easier for Mr. Duke’s tongue.
It felt so good that words could not describe it. I actually had a little orgasm, my limp dick tingling and squirting a little cum while he spread my ass cheeks further apart and licked away.
Dazed, I remember his tongue being replaced by his finger, and then a second finger. It hurt, but in a good way, and then there felt like a third finger went inside of me. Maybe it was his whole first – his arm. It didn’t know, only that it felt incredible.
“Mr. – Donald?” I asked when I felt him climb off the bed.
Did he cum? Had he jerked off while fingering my ass? No. He was at the side of the bed, pulling something out of the drawer while his cock sprang around wildly in front of him.
Now he was squeezing something into his hand, and then rubbed some kind of gel all over his cock, making the crimson pole sparkle as his fist slid up and down.
I wanted to do that for him, but as he climbed back onto the bed I realized that he wasn’t jerking off but priming himself, and as he climbed back behind me his fingers primed me.
Being ignorant, I had no knowledge of anything remotely resembling what was about to happen, so when I felt his finger leave me and was replaced with something else, it actually took me a second to figure it out.
Then I felt it. Mr. Duke was putting his cock into me. I panicked, fearing what that monstrous organ would do, but while his bony fingers had been painful, his flesh and blood member was more forgiving, and as he poured more of himself into my ass I gave in and clutched at the bedding.
I didn’t understand how all of that manhood could possibly fit into me, and at that point it hadn’t, but the sensation of his cock going into my rectum made me practically convulse.
“So good,” Mr. Duke was moaning as he mounted me, his long arms wrapped around me as he gently moved his cock into and out of me.
His hairy body felt comforting against my sweaty skin, and his gentle probing made me feel so good that even when his thrusts become deeper and a bit harder, I not only took it but welcomed it.
“I’m okay,” I mumbled when Mr. Duke asked me how I was. “Feels good. Is it all in me?”
Posted on 23 May 2013 | 10:40 pm