Taming the Beast
Emile, 2010 - 2011
I guess I'd been pretty bad, but then when you're the most handsome built jock stud in your grade, who wouldn't. I was always trailing my two older brothers in school, they were smarter, more popular, friendlier guys, but then puberty came, and I got lucky. I was already the sportsman - football, rowing, you name it, I was captain - and my tight teen body swelled out til I was packed with muscles - bulging chest and massive guns, and suddenly, I was Mr Popular. And then there was my dick - it grew, and grew, until my thick dong and bull nuts made even the teachers stare. I milked the attention - wore only singlets and running shorts to school, I'd sit in class with my legs spread, corded arms behind my head so the chicks and leering teachers could get a glimpse of my underarms and pecflesh, or cop a look at my dickmound. Pretty soon my grades had shot up, the first cunt I dicked was my geography teacher, and soon all the female staff had a taste of my dong. The male teachers too - I wasn't in to the faggy stuff, but I'd see them after class, stand over my shitty homework asking questions, pressing my iron hard tool into their thigh until they'd get bold and reach back for a feel. I'd let them grope a little - under the hem, fingers wrapped around my egg shaped balls - so there was no doubt about what they were doing, and then I'd freak out, threaten to tell everyone - blackmail them for the rest of term. I started fucking girls in my class at the same time, and me and my jock friends had competitions how many girls we could dick in a year. My brothers were pretty pissed, told me to knock it off, so we kept it low key for a while. But when I just turned 18, and they'd just finished school, I got this dickditch pregnant, from a strict catholic family like mine, and my brothers completely lost it. They'd been pretty rough in their year, and were both built like tanks too, so when they bailed me up in our home gym, I was pretty scared. All 3 of us were 100% straight, but they'd said I was a man now, and if I still didn't know how to act, they'd have to punish-fuck me if I didn't behave. I didn't know what that meant, but it sounded bad, so when Seth had me in a nelson hold and Rock stood real close, I began to panic. Rock leaned in, so I could feel his warm breath against my face. "Look meathead, it aint clever gettin every dickditch laid you know. Maybe you need to feel what it's like to know. Even with my arms up and pits exposed, I was sweating heavily from fear. He reached behind me, slowly sliding his hand down my back, under my waistband, and began kneading his thick finger against my virgin hole. "Looks like we all get to fuck pussy around here" he sneered. I was panicking, and held my breath as he slowly fingered my hole. I bucked, and Seth tightened his grip, forcing me forward until I was jammed against Rock. "You know what punish fucking is? Well it's the hardest, meanest balls-deep fucking you can give. And both Seth and I have had plenty of experience with our cuntstuffers, so you'll feel it bro."
Rock slipped down my workout pants and my dick sprang out. I was soft from fear, but my dong still curved out, jutting above my big balls. Rock reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tube of cream, holding it to my face. 'Remember this boy?" he growled. It was a tube of cuntlube I'd gotten from Mexico - smear it on a girl's snatch, and she'd be hot and bucking for hours. It was pretty powerful stuff, and also took off their hair, leaving them with a nice smooth wet cunt for fucking. With a grin, Rock squeezed out a healthy dose, and smeared it all over my dick and balls, tracing between my legs, and working it into my bughole. I squirmed and bucked, but he covered my pubes with the stuff. Soon enough it began to itch, and when he saw me squirm again, Rock wiped my dick, balls and arse with the gym towel. The scratching of the stiff towel felt good, but afterwards, it was worse - like I was on fire. I looked down and my dick and balls were bare - the towel had wiped my hair away, and looked huge. My dick was on fire, getting harder by the second, and my balls were swollen and puffy. Worse, though, my arse felt like a thousand ants were in there, and I felt hot and moist as my body tried to compensate. Soon my dick was stiff and drooling, and my brothers jeered and laughed. "Best yet bro, you remember when those cunts would cum, and the itch would get worse - well it's the same for you. Each time you shoot your load, until the cream wears out, your pig pizzle will stay hard and distended, and burn and itch all the more. This'll be a fun session, bro, a taste of more to cum!!!" They let me go, and I fell to the floor, rubbing my dick and arse, desperate to scratch the itch inside. It only made it worse, and I looked like a fag slut, rubbing my dick and fingering my arse in front of them. Suddenly they kicked me hard in the nuts, told me to get my hands off my dick, that I wasn't to touch it again without permission. I looked up and they both had dropped their pants too. They were hard, and huge - both my bros had been hiding mule dongs at last 9" long each. They rolled on rubbers, coated liberally with more itching goo, and played rock-paper-scissors for rights to fuck me first. I pleaded and moaned, but I could barely move for the itching pain and fear. They kept tying, and so they decided to double-fuck me. Seth lay on the weight bench, and Rock grabbed me by the waist, hauling me up tight to his chest. He told me to out my hands behind my head and warned me that if I moved them, or resisted in any way, they'd impale me on the pool fence instead. Then he lined up his dick with Seths, and slowly lowered me down. Seth reached up and spread my hole, feeding the two fat cockheads into my virgin tight chute. I begged and pleaded for them to stop, their cockheads were ripping me apart, but Rock just kept lowering me down. My feet touched ground and I planted them down, refusing to budge. Rock was furious. He wrapped his legs around mine, pulling them forward, and grabbed my wrists and hair with his hand, pulling them back towards Seth. The further he pulled, the more off-balance I got, until I was teetering, with only their cocks up my arse to support me. He put his other hand on my shoulder and pushed down hard. With gravity and brute force, my legs couldn't resist, and I began slipping down their thick cocks, inch by inch of dickmeat plunging up my arse. Soon they'd split me wide, double dicks stretching my hole to unbelievable proportions. Rock let go of my hands and shoulder and grabbed my thighs, pulling them up until my full weight impaled me on their cuntstuffers. They made me grab the cross-bar and lift myself up, making me fuck myself on their enormous cocks. They both came with a roar, gushing cum up my arse, so much it filled the condoms and leaked out of the sides, filling my hole with cum. They pulled out, still half-hard, and dropped me on the floor. I fell backwards on all fours, in a crab position, and they told me not to move. Cum leaked out of my raped arse, and I stared up at their drippy dongs, humiliated. They stripped off the sheaths, each stretched and full, and poured them onto my face, rubbing the latex against my face. Dicksludge and arseslime was all over my face, dribbling down my throat as I coughed and choked, forced to slurp up their juice. The copious scum dripped from my chin, and covered my sweaty chest, until my whole face, chin and chest was covered in their dirty juices. With horror, i realised that included a large amount of the cream, which was all over the condoms and had liquified with their dickjuice. Seth had guessed too, and threw the gym towel at me. I tried to smear off the cum from my face and pecs, and realised with horror the cream had worked their too - taking off my stubble and manly chest hair, so I was completely smooth from my nose to my thighs.
A few days later and my life had gone from bad to worse. My family had made me marry the bitch that was pregnant, in a quick ceremony attended by just my brothers, as witnesses - her family and mine wanted nothing to do with us. They made me find a job to support us, and we lived in a shitty one room apartment above a greasy kebab shop where I worked. My brothers had lined up the job, and I don't know what they'd said, but the owner treated me like a slave. I spent most of my time in the kitchens sweating like a hog, hauling huge racks of meat from the rotisserie to the front store. My uniform, if you could call it that, was my old gym gear and an apron, and I was covered in sweat and animal fat all day. My only breaks were when my brothers visited, which was often, the owner gave them all the time they needed. See, they'd enjoyed the fucking they'd given me far too much, and decided that dicking their kid bro should be a regular thing. They made me take off the rest of my hair with the cream, which also kept me hard and horny all the time, although I wasn't allowed to cum except when I fucked my wife, which they let me do once a week, "for appearances". I wasn't allowed to wear condoms, she said it was "god's will", and so only a month after our first baby boy was born, she was pregnant again.
I tried to keep up school, it was my one ticket out of this hellhole, but it was hard getting up at dawn with the baby, going to classes, then working til midnight or later. They let me stay mostly for the sport, but weekend practices were hard and even with the teachers in my pocket my grades were slipping. They shrugged, told me they couldn't give me marks for assignments I didn't do. My history teacher, Mr Jones, told me he'd have to fail me. He was one of the first I'd blackmailed - young and stocky, he probably thought no-one knew he was a fag, until I pulled the crotch-rub trick on him. One day after class he told me he'd been watching my decline - coming in late looking like shit, greasy shirt smelling of fat, and figured no-one would listen to a pack of shit like me. He was grinning and stretched languidly. I was desperate, I didn't want to be kicked out, so I figured I'd give him what he wanted, what my brothers already took for free. I told him if he wanted he could have me. "Be specific" he said, and I stammered "I'll suck you off". He said nothing and I continued - "uh, and you can dick me". There was a pause, and he said "prove it". I locked the door and came back, ready to get on my knees - "oh this time there won't be any misunderstanding. Strip buck naked and squat on my desk" he ordered. I undid my shirt and tie, and took them off. He grunted appreciatively at my heaving smooth chest and chiselled abs. He told me to flex my arms, and though I wanted to use my guns to deck him, I was caught now, and flexed, showing off my melon biceps and bare pits to the seedy professor. Then he made me drop my pants, and I slipped the thin cotton down, revealing my thick swollen dong, since I didn't wear briefs, permanently half-hard from my brothers' restrictions on cumming. I stood there, humiliated, my buck naked jock body on display, to be fucked at his will. He gestured and I got up on the table on my knees, dick swinging, fuckbags dangling in front of his face. He made his first move, gently pushing my thighs apart until they were spread wide on the desk and my gear was on full display. He stood up and grabbed my dick with one hand, tugging down painfully, and grabbed my head with the other, pulling my face into his, He whispered "Ok fuckface, I accept your offer, but you'd better make this the fuck of your life. Turn around so I can feel your pussy, and make sure this useless dick of yours is iron hard until we're done." I scooted around so I faced the class and began slowly wanking my cock. I knew it was the only way to stop myself shooting, which my brothers would punish me for, but it was agony, an itch I knew would only get worse the longer I played without cumming. He slowly began driving his finger up my arseknot, making me push back as I jerked off, driving myself down on his finger. Then he used two, then three, stretching my arsering wide. Finally I heard his zip, and he pulled out his fingers, pulling me back until they were replaced with the wet, blunt head of his drooling cock. He began to push forward, holding my chest for leverage, and I painfully realised his big dick was easily the size of my brothers. He mercilessly fucked me, driving hard into my hole, and shot quarts of hot cum up my arse. For the first time I felt the horrible embarrassment of another guys scum shooting up my intestines, like a pussy. He kept fucking a little after that until he finally softened, and withdrew with a plop. He pulled out, and pushed me forward onto the desk, and I had to let go of my cock only second from cumming, to stop myself from slamming into the wood. I was on all fours, with a string of jizz from his dickhead to my arse, which dripped down onto my classwork, splattering it with ropes of cream. He reached around and gave my dick a few tugs, and hearing my shallow breathing he stopped, knowing I was on the verge of cumming too. My dick bobbed and weaved, begging for release, but he wasn't interested in my pleasure, and whacked me hard on the nuts to stop me cumming. I almost puked from the pain. He made me scoot around again, laughing as my arse squelched cum when I moved, and made me grip the edge of the desk, and bob down on his slimy dick, to clean him up. The taste was terrible, worse when he began leaking precum into my mouth as well. I almost thought he'd cum again, but after a few minutes he pulled me off and zipped up. He pointed to the clock, just as the bell started ringing - "next period" he said - since it had been a whole period of fucking and sucking, and I could hear the sound of guys approaching for class. He got up and began making for the door, and I had to scrabble to pull on my pants and shirt, tie askew, still covered in Mr Jones' dickdrool on my chin, with more leaking down my thighs. As I frantically tried to button the crumpled shirt over my chest, I could hear the handle being jiggled, and Mr Jones stopped at the last minute, returning to the desk and grabbing a fistful of my work, covered in scum, which he stuffed into my pants, jamming the paper hard into my arse. "Don't want you staining your pretty uniform before next time" he said, and I began to protest. "This was a one off" I pleaded, but he shook his head - "not if you want to pass boy", With that, he unlocked the door with one hand, and gave the papers one last thrust with the other, sending me bucking into the opening door. The door send my flying, and the seniors all piled in to see me sprawled on the floor. Most laughed and jeered, angry at me stealing their girlfriends or slackening off at sport, and I was jostled as I limped out of Mr Jones' class. More than a few looked like they'd guessed why I'd been there, and elbowed me as I went passed.
Soon school was intolerable, with every one of Mr Jones' free periods spent finding new and interesting ways to humiliate and fuck me. He found out I was on cum control when I begged him to stop jerking my dripping tool the next time, but instead of letting me off, he took it as a new way of grinding me down and humiliating me more. So he also made me spend the time jerking off my oversized tool until it leaked constantly and I begged for release - desperate to avoid the ache in my nuts and fat leaking thrust of my prong in my pants for hours afterwards, since my overstimulated teen fucker stayed stiff with the need to shoot. Instead of my usual assignments he set me special ones, like an essay on my most humiliating fantasy, or a list of my most sensitive body parts. He loved setting the dirtiest stuff for home room, and then really making me sweat over it - literally - he'd get me to slip down my hands when everyone's heads were down, and cinch my ballbag with a rubber band or something, so they really ached - made me burst in an instant sweaty sheen of agony. Then I had to hunch over my work, so no-one saw the filth I was writing. Combined with the smooth skin, and wearing gym gear to home room (I'll explain later), people started steering clear and calling me some loner hunk freak. If I didn't complete one of Mr Jones' assignments, then he'd set it again, but also made me do a "practical" to make up, like 'How many inches can you cram in" or "How many push-ups can you do with your nuts taped to the ground". My nuts got special attention, he loved how smooth and bloated they were from the itching juice, and really liked seeing tears in my eyes from pain as he kneaded, jabbed and squeezed my dangling ballsac, or having it stretched wildly by the push ups, or even just a heavy weight as he made be squat between two desks, playing "how much prefuck can I squirt without cumming". He made that game more interesting by promising he'd tell my brothers if I came, and gave me a thick pencil to shove down my gaping dicklips to stop me cumming. The searing pain of pushing the wood down my dickshaft on the verge of orgasm usually made me lose balance, and I spent a few more periods in sick bay nursing a bruised tailbone or chipped tooth from the fall. Of course, all these extra periods meant I was skipping other classes, so I began flunking those too. Mr Jones told me to drop most of them, and threatened to get me expelled if I didn't, so I was just left with gym, history and physics. I still clung to the idea of graduating, although I knew I'd be repeating classes now, a thick overgrown senior with last year's freshman class. The physics teacher was another I'd blackmailed, and while I'd always done well in gym, it turned out the coach was another homo buddy of Mr Jones (this was when the gym clothes came in). Pretty soon I was getting dicked by all three in different ways. The gym teacher went hard at me all class, made me sweat like a pig, and all the other boys were hard on me too, most having figured out I was a dropout teachers fuckbag by now. They tackled me relentlessly, and I was black and blue after every session. If I tried to avoid a tackle or fought back, the gym teacher would give them a penalty - more pain on me. Then after class he'd make me come to his office as he showered, and make me suck him off under the jets, or strip naked and do a hundred push-ups - whatever took his fancy. He liked seeing me sweat, muscles straining, and would often make me work out until my muscles failed, and then jerk off onto my face. My jock body, which I'd been so proud of, was now his own private fucktoy, and he fed me steroids and growth hormones til I became and even bigger dumber looking gym freak. The physics teacher wouldn't even let me in class, shouting I stank of ballsweat and was too dumb for class when I entered. He insisted I get private tutoring with him if I was to pass. His idea of physics in private was like Mr Jones - how hard can you get hit in the nads without puking, what weight can you lift with your tits without permanently stretching them. After a couple of weeks, I figured the answer to the second one was about half the pec-tearing weights he clamped on to my sensitive nubs, since they now stuck out of my body an inch like a freak, but he wouldn't stop. I got beaten up almost every day by seniors, which I think my brothers had been stirring up too. Still I held up for about three months, until one day, Mr Jones stuck a marker pen up my pisshole, fucked me with a baseball bat, and I broke my nose falling off the benches, then in gym I was fed new pills which made me sweat constantly til my clothes clung to my body and I was rank, and in physics my balls were stomped on so hard they swelled up to the size of grapefruits. I was pumped full of teacher cum til it clogged my mouth and nose, and after ambushing me and punching me in the gut and face, the seniors tore off my clothes, throwing me my "new uniform", a pair of red swim trunks with the words "PIGBOY" on the crotch, and a hole cut in the arse. Mr Jones found me dragging myself through the corridors wearing the shorts, the students all laughing and jeering, and pulled me outside. In his car he traced his finger through my matted hair, over my overpumped sweat streaked pecs, pinched my stretched tits and groped my hard tool straining against the fabric. He told me what a fucked-up loser I looked like, how I was the joke of the school. As he called me filthy names, he made me squat over his seat, my jock thighs straining, tears streaming down my face, and he fucked me through the hole, cumming with his biggest load ever. He threw me off when he finished and made me lap up his cock, holding my arse with the other hand to stop cum drooling onto the seat, as he drove me home. He dumped me in front of the shop, arse and hand covered in cum, and told me i'd been officially expelled. And that's how my greasy boss found me, and knew I was getting dicked.
Taming the Beast 2
Emile, 2010 - 2011
Now I had lost my hope of graduating school, I tried to get myself out of the mess. I couldn't leave my wife and offspring, even though she loathed me openly, and I didn't feel much for her. Still, I begged her to run away with me to another city. The cunt just told my brothers, who came over quick smart. After a hard pile-driving punish fuck, they told me I hadn't learnt my lesson yet, and if I fled they'd just drag me back and make things worse until I learnt. They gave me an ultimatem. If I played along until I turned 19, and learnt my lesson, then they'd release me. My choice. Meanwhile, my boss quickly turned my new spare time into a lucrative side trade, with a steady stream of greek and lebanese men, hot and hairy, feeling me up and sliding their fuckpoles into my mancunt in the back room. Often tears would well up and drip from my eyes as I was forced to bend over and take it from a rough mid-twenties muscle jerk, a guy I would have spotted and joked around with in the gym not long before, now skewering me like a pig. Word must've got around because most of the guys were regulars, who really got off on working my stretched tits and squeezing my swollen ballbag as they stretched my arse ring wide. My boss told me my uniform was just the apron now, to give the guys easy access, and soon they added new stuff for me to wear - a pair of rubber boots which collected the sweat rivulets running down my body, a ball stretcher. Man I was in agony.
At home things weren't much better. My wife resented me for being a dumb-arse grease monkey, and although she didn't know the half of it, suspected I was cheating on her all the time. I was permanently tired, and had stopped fucking her even after she had our second son. My brothers found out and weren't going to stand for it, so took to staying over weekends, and re-initiating the weekly fuck themselves. I don't know if she knew and pretended not to or what, but every Friday night she would take her sleeping pills and pass out. I would have to creep out of bed and my bros would take it in turn to take my place, rolling on top of her and fucking their thick uncut tools into her. In turn I would strip naked and straddle the couch where my other brother lay, buck naked and hard, holding his tool aloft, waiting for me to skewer myself. They'd loudly fuck in time, so that Rock and Seth both came at the same time, my pussy and my wifes flooded with my brothers' cum. This'd wake my two sons, so then it was a struggle to pull myself off and swab up the scum, before crawling back into the bedroom and take my brothers place next to my wife. He'd usually just slide out of bed onto the floor, and I'd crawl in, just it time to whisper that I'd look after the kids to my wife, and have to slink off before she woke up properly. By the time I was done, both my bros would be stretched out on the couch, waiting for me to clean them up.
A few weeks before my 19th birthday, my old class graduated from high school, and had a grad ball. As a fucked up teen dropout with two kids, I wasn't invited, but my brothers thought my wife and I should go, for old times' sake. They scored my wife a date with Conrad White, the All-American pretty boy football captain. Before this all started we'd been pals, when he was the biggest stud after me in school. He had a mean streak, and never finished a date without a fuck - boasting he could make a grown woman scream as he basted her cunt with his massive uncut dork. When I'd gone downhill, he lead the pack in laying in to me. My brothers arrived early with Conrad, while my wife was in the shower. Unlike me in my rented suit, Conrad looked like he was made to wear a tux, his beefy body perfectly fitting the expensive material. He swaggered in, joking with my bros, and when he came to me, he grinned. "Say Seth I'm feeling horny, why don't you get your little bro to help us out here?" Soon I was kneeling on the floor in front of them, dicks out, as they jerked off in front of me. Rock ordered me to catch their scum in my mouth. After a few groaning minutes, the three unloaded in sync, filling my gob with their jism, spurting over my hair, face and down my front. The rental tux was ruined, and I'd already had to scrape around for the rental. They wiped their dicks over my face and zipped up, still covered in their sexy sheen, just as my wife came out of the shower. I ducked behind the couch, and as she emerged, Rock brought Conrad over to introduce himself. I heard him smile and flatter her, and tell her that since I'd already left for the dance, he'd be honoured to be her date. She was flustered, still dressed in just a towel, and I could hear in her voice that she felt like she was being eaten alive. But my brothers were there, assuring her it was for the best they'd seen him on his way after I left. She agreed just until she found me again, and he offered her a corsage, only minutes after wiping the same sticky hand on my jacket. Seth stood between me and her as they left, and stepped backwards just as they passed, mashing his heel in my balls. I swallowed a yelp and they were gone.
My brothers got straight to work on me. 'Ok bro, we've got a job for you at the dance. First, get out of those filthy clothes. I stripped down to my boxers, but that wasn't good enough, they stripped me naked. Rock took something from his pocket. "Here, i almost forgot, Conrad left a present as thanks for letting him fuck your wife. It was a small lunchbag, and inside was a sticky stretched rubber with a huge load in the tip. "He just fucked some freshman before coming here, it's still warm and loose from his big dong. He said he has you to thank for wearing rubbers, since he didn't want to end up a dropout like you. They made me fish out the slimy stretched latex dicksheath and slide it over my tongue. It tasted terrible, and the warm dickslime kept slowly drooling down my tongue. Next they gave me a leather harness. It was a real harness, that criss-crossed my chest and had a strap down to my dick. I fed my dick and balls through the tight metal ring and they cinched the harness tight. My balls and cock throbbed and jutted out in front of me. My pants were no better - strippers black pants, tight as a second skin on my calves, thighs and arse, with a generous crotch so my bulge was obvious. The pants had velcro strips on the side and could be ripped off in one tug. They made me put back on the bow tie and jacket from my suit, and with the dried cum in my hair and on my shoulder, naked strapped torso, tight pants and barefoot, I looked like the fucked out whore they'd made me. "I wouldn't worry about your wife tonight" Seth said "you'll be with the teachers, so give them a good show."
It was even worse when I got there. They let me lose the condom, but my breath still stank of dickjuice. As Seth drove, Rock sat with me in the back, and stripped off my jacket, handing me a bottle of baby oil. He made me oil up my torso and arms, and he oiled my back, until I shone in the moonlight. Just as we approached, he unzipped my crotch, coating my dick and balls with oil. The light rub on my cinched dick also made me hard as a rock, and despite myself, my hard dick lurched and a drop of precum dribbled out. As I zipped up, they bundled me out of the car, each tucking their arm under my pit, so I was forced to walk between them, arms over their shoulders. Seths arm held my shoulders, propelling me forward, while Rock's slipped down to squeeze my arse. I could tell he was getting horny, and his other hand slipped round front to squeeze my nips,but Seth told him to stop. With the petting and the oil I was half dazed with pleasure. Suddenly he let go, flinging a door open in front of us, and Seth pushed me through the door. I stumbled forward, and found myself in the small teachers room next to the hall. They were all milling around, talking, but Mr Jones caught sight of me before I could hide. He made a quick sign, and I was surrounded by a dozen male teachers, all with shit eating grins on their faces. Mr Jones called over to a waiter - a big black guy easily 6 ft tall. "Hey man, do you have a private room we can use?" he nodded, then led the way. Mr Jones pushed me forward, and when the waiter glanced back and saw me, he grinned widely. "So dis a private party?" he smirked. Jones grunted, and then thought a little. "Actually, how'd you like to join us?" The guy looked at me hungrily, but shook his head, saying he needed the tips. Jones went forward and whispered in his ear, and he grinned even wider, nodding. He told me loudly "Jefferson here agreed to serve us in exchange for a third of your tips. His friend Paulo will also help for another third. Don't sweat boy, they'll even help you out with your show - apparently Jefferson here is quite a pro. You just do whatever we, or he, says and we'll all have a splendid time!" They all chuckled as if they were talking about a poker game, not selling my arse, and another guy came over to escort them to the room. He was a latino with slick hair, a goatee and dark skin, and as he led them away, he glanced back at me. Paolo I guess.
Meanwhile Jefferson lead me out back, through the kitchens, to the service door of the private room. I could hear the teachers on the other side, boisterous from another round of drinks, joking around with Paolo. Jefferson told me to take off my jacket, and do some push ups before the show. His voice was sharp and authoritative, clearly he'd done this kind of thing before. He slipped off his shoes and each time I came up, I felt his warm sole pressing down on my back, forcing me to work hard. After 20 push-ups I was sweating heavily. I went to stop, and craned my neck around. Jefferson had stripped down to his jocks, and hung his clothes on a nearby rack as I'd worked out. He had one hand propped against the wall, showing off this beefy biceps and deep pits, and the other thumbing his dickhead through the material. His cock looked huge, stretching the thin material 6 inches out, just from the curve of the stalk. The head mushroomed out, even thicker than the prong, hanging a good 7 or 8 inches below his tugged waistband, still only semi-hard. Despite the salami sized dong, I could still make out his ostridge egg balls, pushing the fabric out to either side. I was shocked, and lost balance under the pressure of his foot. "You ever been impaled on a bollard? Cause you ain't felt nothing like me before, and you probably won't feel much else after. I's gonna stretch you like a rubber band in the sun, whooee. Now you jus' get down and gimme 100 crunches you worthless piece of shit, so we get our moneys worth. I got into position and began crunching, and he put his foot down on my crotch, pressing hard enough that it brought tears to my eyes. "That your tiny dick? You is half girl already, man!". He pushed the jocks down below his balls, so I could get a good look at his dickslab before the show. Out of its confines, it was even bigger, slowly unfurling like a boa constrictor. The shiny purple head began drooling milky scum on my pumped abs, forming rivulets around my tight muscles and pooling over my belly button, eventually coating my pubes as I pumped out 100 crunches. My muscles were popping out, and with the oil and the work, I was coated in a sheen of sweat, half dazed and scared. Ok boy, you jus got one more task - get on your hands and toes and lick up all your filthy mess, so we can start this show. If you lap up every last drop in 10 minutes, I'll go easy on your arse. If not, you'll get the hardest punish fuck you ever imagined. And don't you dare drop to your knees or you forfeit. Understand? The task was impossible. Holding myself in a bridge, lowering my head to lick the ground, was agony, and more sweat poured from my pits and back as it strained to keep my shoulders knitted and legs off the ground. The pool of sweat, swirling with Jefferson's precum which dripped from my torso, was like a lake, and after 10 minutes my tongue felt like leather, and my stomach churned from all the juice I'd lapped up. The ground was still damp, and after kicking me out of the way, Jefferson snorted - "You is hopeless. Well that's it for you boy..." He'd slipped his jocks up, although the bulge was enormous, and was pulling his pants up to keep some of the surprise. He hauled me to my feet, shaky and dazed, and thrust me through the door, the rowdy men inside chanting for some action.
Inside the room was worse, it was hot and cramped, and I was pushed onto the low table, within easy grabbing distance of the drunk teachers. Some music came on and I started dancing, slow and rhythmic, eyes closed pretending it was for a girlfriend, not these perverts, hands behind my head as Jefferson had ordered. The guys constantly touched me, grabbing at my crotch, arms and legs, running hands over my abs and lats. I tried to keep pretending - these were girls hands - but the rough calloused palms gave them away. Suddenly the hands stopped, and I felt two people pressing against me, sandwiching me in between. The air filled with the aroma of male sweat. Jefferson was behind me, and I could feel his pecs pressing in my back, his cock through our pants still pressing on my arsecrack. He began slowly coaxing the snaps on my pants apart. In front of me was Paolo, a stocky latino guy bristling with hair, whose slick waiters look was giving way to a gringo in heat as he stripped off his clothes to reveal his packed, hairy body. In seconds we were all naked, to the cheers of the teachers, and Paolo was holding me close, his arms under my pits, grabbing my wrists and pulling them down behind me. I was immobilised and our pecs pulled together, and he was fiercely tongue-fucking me, his tongue invading my mouth and spit pouring down my throat. Somehow this was even worse than giving blow jobs. Our dicks were both iron hard and leaking, pressed against each other between our bodies, his pubes scratching my bald flesh. But worse, much worse, was Jefferson, who grabbed my left thigh and was hauling it up, forcing my arse up and apart. I was thrust forward, so all my weight was on Paolo's crotch and Jefferson's hand, unable to turn or protest with Paolo's tongue down my throat. He lifted my knee higher, and began feeding his flagpole cock up my hole, mashing and tearing his way forward, as they both trapped me between them. I was being fucked like a dog, one leg in the air, and the teachers were hooting with laughter and lust. Some were giving a running commentary, describing for me how the purple shaft looked as it steadily invaded my hole, stretching my cunt wide and sliding inch by inch up my gut. Paolo broke kissing for a minute to tell Jefferson to tweak my tits, and I glanced over my shoulder. Not only was the sight obscene, the huge cock jutting out of his ebony body, 4 inches still showing as it plunged up my arse, but they were filming the whole thing, and taking pictures. I cried out, but Mr Jones chuckled, and told me there was a live feed to next door - all my school buds could see the show too. "Even your wife, although I saw her up the back before wiggling on Conrad's lap, and she looked a little distracted."
I was humiliated, everything from my pits to my raped arse was showing for the world to see. Paolo nodded and Jefferson and he pulled apart, lowering me to the floor, arse in the air. Paolo released my hands just in time for me to break the fall, and I landed on all fours, Jefferson's dick still skewering my arse. A few thrusts and he'd be home. Paolo got in on the action, replacing his tongue with his tangy leaking dick, pulling the dicksleave back to reveal his slimy uncut dong, and they began double fucking me in earnest. In a few minutes Paolo came, his hot mexican scum flooding my bowels. Jefferson still hadn't cum, but pulled out, leaving my hole wide and gaping for air. He shoved his leaky dick in my mouth,stretching it too, allowing me to lick my own arsejuices off his everhard dripping tool. After that the 'show' pretty much degenerated into a fuckfest as I was ploughed by one teacher after another, forcing me to kneel as they casually slung their thighs on top of me, levering my mouth onto their dicks. Soon I was filled with cum and my body, especially my arse, was wracked with pain. The whole time Jefferson kept up the slow facefuck, filling my gut with his neverending stream of sap, until the last teacher had finished. Then, like a pro, he grabbed my head and began slamming his dong in to the hilt, hard, drawing it back to the tip and slamming back in. The rough facefuck was torture - his thick dick choked my throat and his wiry pubes scratched my swollen lips as he slammed his balls against my chin again and again. I began getting light headed from the lack of oxygen as he held on longer and longer as he got close to coming. Finally, he came with a roar, pumping litres of cum down my clogged throat. My last memory was of cum bubbling up my nose and around my wide lips as his neverending dicksauce filled my gullet, before everything faded to black.
Taming the Beast 3
Emile, 2010 - 2011
When I woke up I was outside in the cold, propped up against an alley wall on some pavement wearing just the metal cockring. My legs were akimbo and every passer by could see my cum covered jock body. My muscles ached. As well as dried cum I could smell piss and spit, Which from the snickering nearby I worked out was some local fun they'd had while I was out. I tried to stand but fell back, and the local kids came over, snickering. They came close, supposedly to help me, and knept down on either side of me. I stunk of cum, and they asked me what happened. I muttered something about being raped and they said "what is that cum?" pointing to the pool of sticky mess between my legs. Worse, looking down I realised my cock was still rock hard in the tight metal cockring, the glans flared and bulging. By this stage each of my arms was being held firmly by their concerned hands, and now they were prying apart my thighs. I didn't respond which they took to mean I needed a closer look, and one began forcing my head down, making me go down on my own dick. They pushed me further, my body wracked with pain, until finally they had me engulf my whole stalk, nose rubbing in the scum leaking from my arse. "Yeah, that cum you filthy faggot!" There was a yell and the kids bolted. I slowly pulled up from my dick, still covered in goo. "You jis can't get enough sex eh gringo?" the voice said. It was Paolo. "We thought we'd get you a farewell gift with the money you earnt last night. Here" he said, lifting me up, draping an arm over his shoulder. Agonisingly, I limped along, unable to stand on my own or resist. "the tattoo parlour's almost open!"
If I thought my live was bad before, then arriving at that parlour only made me realise the depths I could plunge to. We rounded the corner onto a street. There were a couple of signs for sex shops and clubs with names like "Man Nation", it was trashy, and the guys walking around all looked gay. Most stopped and stared as I struggled along, dick bobbing in the breeze. One burly guy passed, and I hoarsely whispered "Please help me", and he slowed down, but only to give my engorged dick a couple of pumps, before continuing along. The parlour faced a main street, big windows for everyone to see through, and as we entered, a small crowd began gathering at the window. The tattooist, a big hairy guy called Matt, bristling with tats and piercings, was setting up a camera on a tripod, facing a big dentists chair in the centre of the room. He looked back, grinning when he saw me naked and exposed. He ignored my hoarse pleas, telling Pablo the camera was "for the internet - Mr Jones' special request."
They each grabbed under an armpit and bundled me into the chair, pulling my wrists behind it so my biceps strained around the chair back, and they tied my wrists together with a cable tie. The chair was wide-backed and bulky, and despite my broad shoulders the stretch forced my wrists tight, arms bulging and chest out, toward the camera. The exertion made me damp with sweat. Then they pulled my corded thighs over the arms of the chair, spreading them wide and securing my ankles together behind the pivot. Again I was strained to breaking point, the muscles joining my legs and crotch were stretched taut, arse up off the bench, my heavy dick thrust toward the camera. Matt came back with an evil looking device - two flat metal hooks joined by a short length of strong elastic cable, and hooked one end under my foreskin, and stretched the cable over my balls to hook the other end to my winking sphincter. The effect was electric - they pulled against each other, so my dick arched out and down like a faucet, foreskin stretched out and down from my body. The tug on my sensitive cockhead, especially the tight inch of tissue from the base of the frenulum, put me in overdrive, and my cock began burping long streams of precum toward the lens - clear sticky goo that spewed out and drooled over the hook, spattering onto the ground in a relentless stream of agonising pent up lust. The other hook was equally infuriating, stretching my pounded hole up and exposing my tender cherry to the camera, still clogged with multiple guys' cum. The stretched skin pulled deep into my hole, stirring more fucklust in my overworked prostate. And my big balls, still heavy with cum, dangled either side of the elastic, bloated and full, every vein bulging to the camera. My ball flesh was still smooth and taut, not a single hair had grown on my jock body since my brothers had smeared their itching cream on me, and straining my jaw down on my barrel chest, I could see them glistening, coated in sap, through the valley of my pecs.
Soon, my desperate horny itch was replaced with a greater agony, as Matt wheeled over on his gurney to start the tattooing. Neither guy had told me what they had planned, but as he surveyed the canvas of my body, I began to realise in horror their plans for me. Matt shoved a wad of cloth in my mouth, tying it securely in place, telling me it would stop me biting my tongue. I tried to speak but my protest was muffled to a moan. He took in from the nape of my neck to the base of my cock, the curve of the fat dong to the tip, with one grinning gesture. Then he got to work, inking me from the peak of each shoulder in a wide curve over my chest, meeting just below my fat pec overhang, down over my abs to the root of my dick. The work took hours, camera whirring constantly, and whenever Matt moved down to a new part, the leery grins and chuckles of the pervs in the window gave me a sickening feeling of what was to come. Eventually, he finished on my thighs, in what looked like exaggerated legs in army boots. Matt had finished, and leaned back for a cigar break as Pablo came over with a mirror, pointed down at my sweat and ink stained body. Despite my wildest imaginings, I was still shocked. the picture was me, in a way, a beefy oversized muscle boy, cuffed melon arms stretched wide over my chest, head hanging down below my pecs, cut tapering body covered only by a rag shirt, straddling my fat cock, thick legs dangling either side, curving in to my sensitive inner thighs, weighed down by the boots. The figure was covered with streaks of cum which dripped off his arms, snaking over my chest, pooling at my nipples. The picture said 'filth', but they weren't content with that, and soon Matt started work again. This time it was my cock, and the pain was excruciating. I strained down and saw him defacing my dong with a jagged, slop covered dildo which started just below the head and punched up the curve of the cock, plunging into the inked man. Then he added something high on each pec, between the arms, which Pablo read to me with a grunt - "JOCKPIG". He surveyed his work, clearly content as his dick throbbed in his pants. He gave my mutilated cock a few painful jerks, and despite everything, my heavy balls kept pumping out clear sap. Still going, he wheeled around to my side, adding in a thick band around my bi's and tri's, the words "CUM DUMP" on the left, "DUMBARSE" on the other. I still clung to the hope that despite him ruining my sexy body, I could still get by in public with a shirt on, until he stood behind me, pushing my head forward, to give me the final tatt on the nape of my neck, well above the neckline. After a few minutes, he switched off, satisfied with his final effort. "Yeah you little dickpig" he snorted, "see how popular you are now with your teammates, with "WET PUSSY" back there. He pulled out the gag, and through my spittle I yelled and cursed, told him he'd pay for fucking up my beautiful body. Before I could get breath, the jabbed me twice, punch to the stomach and uppercut to my jaw, knocking me senseless. "Look here faggot" he sneered "don't give me that uppity shit. Your bro's were right, you still think you're king shit, eh. Well perhaps I can give you a few more reminders that other people's pleasure comes first. He shoved the gag back in hard, and stormed off, coming back brandishing a piercing gun. The next five minutes were agony. With the careless precision a builder would show with a staple gun, he pointed the pneumatic gun at my sensitive flesh, firing off bolt after bolt of thick gauge steel through my skin. Each barbell piercing tore out a chunk of skin, as he pierced my top lip, my tongue, above my chin and my nipples - shot after shot scarring me like a trash whore. He switched gauges to an even thicker bolt, a real heavy duty slug of steel that stretched the skin, and leaning down between my legs, he wrenched off the hooks, and began savaging my dick. He fired a line of bars down the underside of my cock, pinching the skin each time for the maximum penetration. I jerked and spasmed with pain, my dick spluttering drool constantly. He continued down to my ballbag, firing two rods through the sensitive base where it joined my body. As I would later find out, these piercings were cruel weapons, as their constant rubbing and tugging on my 'male G spot' would give me achingly hard, slimy erections day and night. Another bar slugged through my perenium, just up from my spasming hole. I was a walking, aching billboard for cheap male rough sex, and he knew it.
Pablo called from across the store "Hey man, this is awesome. Thousands of guys have signed up to this, and they're posting comments. There's a few in the area, say they love how you've marked him up. They want to throw our mule-boy a little party down the road. Whadda you say, Matt, up for some fun?" Matt laughed, nodding, but the world began to spin, as the agony, strain, blood loss and fear finally knocked me unconscious.
When I came to, my predicament had worsened. As I came around I took in my surroundings. I was in what looked like a nightclub, out of hours, mirrors all around me reflecting the depraved, foul tats and piercings that criss-crossed my body. Above me, a spot light was turned on, flooding my body with heat and light, and casting the room into darkness. Two people walked in, my brothers, and I was never happier to see them. They were dressed in their usual baggy sweats, and I thought they'd finally come to rescue me. I struggled to get to my feet, hoarsely whispering "Thank god, they were going to rape me all over", but Seth just pushed me back down to the ground. I looked up unblinking, confused. "Not yet, bro" Rock said "a few of your fans have paid good money to sample that jock bod of yours. Here's something to take the edge off..." Rock shoved a brown vial under my nose, and the whiff of ammonia sent my head spinning. Someone else had entered the light, but in the headspin, all I could make out was a looming, veiny cock arching towards me. "Now be nice" Rock cooed, "just a little suck and a good hard fuck for each of them and you can go home. There can't be more than 20 guys here. Don't worry, boy, we've put them in order of cock size so you won't get all stretched out."
I looked up at the massive dork looming above me, tried to focus, but the guy had already started drooling sap over my eye. He looked enormous - at least 8 inches with a fat cut cockhead that would stretch most girls, let alone a jock stud like me. "Easy there" the guy said - he sounded younger than me even. Fuck! Being dicked by a teen my junior! The tangy blunt cockhead rubbed against my mouth, still drooling precum on my face. My own cock, stimulated by the piercings, was still bobbing and dripping on its own, balls heavy. He popped the head in my mouth. "Yeah man, slow and steady - your big dick log is dripping so much scum it must be bursting to unload, piggie, but unlike you, I could happily last hours. It must be so frustrating being constantly so aroused, unable to get off. Augh fuck yeah, turns me on, feel that sap pouring down your throat. I can't wait to fuck that tender arse your dick is lubing up for me. Keep spewing sap, trashie, beg for me..." And I did - drooling constantly as he, and then his 9" replacement, porked me like a prize sow, waves of arousal washing over me, the tight cockring preventing them from taking me over the edge. Now I was on my third cock, another 9 inch monster, but thicker. Twenty cocks! This was the third, and already my mouth was stretched to the limit. They'd tear me apart! But they persisted, slamming into my head as I kneeled, then grabbing my thighs and upending me so they could plunge into my arse, a constant parade of overendowed behemoths splitting my orifices wide.
Hours later, and the final guy stepped into the circle. Unlike the last few, hairy trucker types with cheesy cocks and fierce fucking style, he was slow to approach, still wearing his trunks. I looked up, taking him in. He was big and black, like Jefferson's big brother, and in his stretching trunks a snake uncurled, swelling rapidly. He thumbed the waistband down to let his gargantuan tool spring free - easily a 15" tree trunk, tight rings of flesh up the stalk like inch-marks. "Yuh I bin waitin to fuck yo' sweet arse for years bitch - since I first laid eyes on you. I was the janitor at your school, remember? No you whiteys never care. But now your sweet white arse is mine dick, so let's start nice and slow. Start by cleaning the head. Yeah suck that teat. In a haffan hour or so, you'll be getting this choker stuffed all the way down your pretty throat. So start sucking!" I must've been a beat too slow, and he slipped his big foot between my knees, kicking them apart. He jerked the foot up, under my cock, until his toes nudged my heavy swinging balls, and pincering them between his toes, he jerked his foot down, stretching my nuts in the sac until I thought they'd rip off. I grunted, and immediately sunk down to take off the pressure, but he was holding my head, feeding his cock into me,and I couldn't move. My stretched nuts were screaming, but as he relentlessly fed dick down my throat, I could do nothing but concentrate on not gagging. After 10 minutes pistoning his massive dong into my mouth he came with a roar, filling my throat and spurting cheesy nutjuice out of the sides of my jaw, splashing over his crotch and dripping down to my chest. He made me lick him clean and then let me collapse, a mouth-fucked wreck.
Seth and Rock threw me a cloth, which I though was a towel and began to wipe my mouth. "No you stupid fuck" Seth bellowed, "that's your new shorts. Sheesh we get you a present and this is how you thank us!" I said nothing, thinking that fucking me raw was payment enough. I looked at the cloth more closely - it was a terry towel pair of 80's workout shorts from some charity shop, the inside still encrusted with the former wearer's ballsweat and leakage. I began pulling up the filthy cloth, the split sides hugging my corded thighs, and it strained near the top, bringing my cockroot into high relief and hugging my tight arseglobes. The bottom, however, was still loose and breezy, and I could feel my cockhead and balls hanging free and heavy. The waist was so tight I couldn't even pull it the last 1/4 inch over my cockroot, and in any case my tackle peeked out the bottom of the undersized shorts. "Okay" they said, each throwing an arm around my shoulders "time to get the subway."
The trip home was incredibly humiliating - the stares and catcalls on the street as they saw me, nearly naked and inked up. Most guys hooted at "Jockpig" and "Dumbarse", which they called after me. But it was much worse on the subway. It was getting to the morning peak by now, and the subway was packed, businessmen on their way to work, schoolkids, manual labourers, all staring and gawking as I stood on the platform. Rock and Seth stood near but apart, and I felt completely exposed. When the train came Seth shoved me between the shoulderblades in to the most packed part. The train was shoulder to shoulder, and as soon as it lurched to a start, I felt hands on my body, as the commuters pressed around me used the chance to get a free feel. They figured I was up for it, and with my brothers there I knew more than to protest. The hands got more bold, and by the first stop, one hand was already cupped around my balls, another testing the 'Wet Pussy' claim, feeling up my arsecrack under the cloth, pressing against my raw swollen nub. Another arm snaked down my taut abs, pushing the waistband down further and pressing on my cock. I clenched my teeth, trying vainly to stop my overworked cock from getting hard. It was futile, soon I could feel it poking out of the material, standing up hard and drippy. There were many hands now, pulling and prodding none to gently. The guys used the banging and rattle of the carriage to press ever closer, the businessman in front of me steadying himself once by grabbing my titflesh, tweaking the nipple, and then pretending to cough, spat a gop of spit right on to my dickhead below. He worked it over the head, making me shudder with lust. The guy behind me now shoved a marker pen tip into my arsetrench, wiggling it around until it grazed my hole, making me buck forward into the businessman, who was now teasing my hooting foreskin. The pen was fucked in and out of my hole dozens of times and then unexpectedly withdrawn, until i felt it press on my back, realising someone was writing something on my back. By some tacit agreement the pen was passed around, even the businessman writing something on the stalk of my cock between our pressed bodies. When it made it around the circle it was pressed back in to my butt, just as we got to my stop. Rock and Seth hauled me out, oblivious to the fact that I was now sporting a dozen phone numbers and lewd suggestions like a toilet wall, and my cock was thrusting hard up out of the shorts.
Taming the Beast 4
Emile, 2010 - 2011
But if I thought I'd be safe at home I was wrong. I was already dreading my wife seeing the tatts, but as we started upstairs, I heard banging, and loud moans from the bedroom. Seth and Rock hi-fived each other. "That'll be Conrad's morning fuck" they whispered. Fucking my wife! They grabbed me around the shoulders again, turning me around. "You can't stay here bro, we promised Conrad he'd get a free run of the place if he hit it off. Guess he did. Actually, can't let your wifey see you like that at all - might ruin the good family name. I think you better live with us for a while."
Living with Seth and Rock was a nightmare. They lived in a share house with 8 other rowdy, horny guys, sharing a small rank smelling basement room below the only bathroom. There was a door and window to the rear alley, which they brought me in through. Above I could hear noises of guys in the house, and the grunting sound of someone on the john, pushing out a large turd. When the guy was done, he flushed, and the room filled with the gushing sound of water, the main sewer pipe running down the surface of one wall. Rock and Seth didn't care, they just crashed here when they were drunk and dateless, but this would be my home. I was forbidden from making a sound, going upstairs or out, but there was no risk of that anyway, given how exposed I was. The window was large and low, and bare except for a few rusted bars, so anyone in the alley could see the whole room. They told me to clean up and left to get "supplies". I sorted through the piles of crusty clothes, used rubbers and junk food wrappers, when they came back, Rock with the Mexican cuntlube, Seth with a pair of handcuffs. Seth grabed my wrists, using his muscle to pin my own beefy arms behind me, and dragged me back to the sewer pipe, cuffing my wrists behind the pipe so I was forced to sit against it, hands immobilised and my legs stretched out in front of me. Rock meanwhile squeezed out a dollop of cuntlube, and slid his hands up my thigh under the shorts, his fingers tracing over the ribbed piercings that laddered my cock, coating my cock and balls with the itching goop. It was bad enough tied up half naked like that, in fear of anyone glancing through the window and seeing the words "JOCK PIG" inked over my fat pecs, and my heavy throbbing cock poking out both ends of the shorts, but to have my whole cock on fire as well from the lube was agony. My ballbag was so swollen from fuckneed and the lube that I had to keep my thighs apart to keep from squashing the nads, and the fleshy throat of the nutsack pushed my dork up like a bridge. My cockhead too was stretched to the limit, purple and pounding, like an overripe peach, ready to split its skin. It was their special lesson to me - forced to look down over my smooth torso, past the shaved exposed cockroot to the plum head, my whole existence concentrated on the punishment my dork earnt for having been such a mean dicksman in school.
Seth began scrawling the names and numbers off my wide stretched back into an address book he was holding, and told me since they weren't going to fork out for my dinners, they'd set up 'dates' for me every night, from the growing list of guys who wanted to fuck me, or fuck me again. They added the groping commuters to the list. In return, after every date I'd have homework questions to complete - a complete physical description of each guy - from their body hair to their dick girth - and what they were into, which I'd have to explore thoroughly. They didn't say why - to steer me to kinkier shit, or just blackmail the johns, but I knew my dates would be long and probing. With that, they left for work, leaving me to a day of nothing but humiliation and pain in the cellar.
My first date, if you can call it that, was with one of the guys from the train. Rock and Seth dropped me at a greasy diner out of town, where the businessman clearly thought none of his friends would see him. It was a dive, and all the other patrons stared when we walked in, so clearly unmatched. Looking like a jailbait rentboy, I got looks of disgust, rather than sympathy, despite being the victim. The cocky suit led me to a rear booth, after ordering 'the usual' from the waitress, who didn't even bother to look at me. After she left, he casually unzipped his pants, telling me to get down and make myself useful while we waited. For fifteen minutes, while he read the paper and glanced at the rear wall mirror, I crouched under the table, legs wide and head low, while he casually facefucked me, leaking constantly but getting no closer to spurting. Finally, he shoved me back with his hands and told me to scramble up. I managed to get back up into my seat, scraping against the table and chair, just as the waitress rounded the bench and dumped burgers and cokes on the table in front of us, before leaving with a grunt. I was ravenous, but when I reached for my plate he slapped my hand away, grabbing my burger in his free fist as he ate, and hauling it under the table. In a moment I realise what he is doing, pile-driving his hard cock into the burger, mashing the meat and spattering sauce as he pounds the warm bun. Having primed him with a blowjob, he quickly came with a muted moan, pausing for several seconds before finally opening his eyes again, slowly pulling the hamburger off his stalk and dumping it back on my plate. It was disgusting - mashed into a pulp and leaking thick viscous fucksauce from the sides. "While that cools" he said, "how about you clean up the mess down there." Reluctantly I wormed my way back into a crouch under the table, and sucked mayonnaise, ground beef and cum of his drooping stalk and (at his direction), the floor. Finally I climbed back to the seat and he let me hoe into the congealed cum and grease burger, my only meal for ages, while he finished off his coke and mine.
The post-date fuck was no more special. Leaving the diner, he just led me out back, and between the trashcans, he spun me around, spread against the wall, tugged down the shorts and made me stand there, exposed, while whacked himself until he was hard again, and fed his thick dick into my hole, unlubed, with teeth-gritting force. I tried my best not to yelp as my torn hole opened to accomodate another intruder, and he saw-fucked me among the trash, unloading quickly and zipping up, before stepping away in hurried footsteps. It took me a second to realise he'd left me there, and quickly hauled up the shorts, and despite the stabbing pain, jogged around to the front to beg for a lift home. Too late, I saw him reverse quickly and screech out of there, leaving me cold and alone in the carpark. Somehow I managed to walk back into town and find my way to my brothers' house, climbing into the broken window and collapsing on the soggy mattress.
My next day was much the same, only I gave Rock some lip, which he paid back with a hard slap across my face, and extra cuntlube smeared on my pouty pierced nipples. Fuck the itch was awful. By the end of the day, my cock and balls were so swollen that my nutsack was bloated tight, and my cock drooled constantly from sap squeezed out by the swelling. They gave me grey dress shorts and a bleached white collared shirt for the second date but even in normal clothes, my tortured tackle made a freakish ripe lump in the pants, obscene and moist with dripping juice. They leant me some flip flops and led me upstairs, still shakey on my legs, to my second date. The other guys were all mooching around upstairs, indifferent to their flatmates "kid brother" who was crashing in the basement. I didn't know what they'd told them, but the sneers on their faces told me I'd get little sympathy from them. They pushed me forward to the front door. There, standing in the hallway with a shit-eating grin on his face was the black janitor from school! Right there in front of my brothers and their housemates, he came up, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my face towards his honky lips, while pawing my meaty chest through the fabric with his free hand, seeking out my itching nipples with his stubby dark fingers. I heard their flatmates gasp and call me names, but I was much more humiliated by my own squashed stalk, which lurched in the pants at his touch and began to leak in earnest, staining the fly. "Whooee boy, we is gonna have some fun" he chuckled, when he broke off the kiss, leading me out of the house with one broad hand firmly grasped around my right arsecheek, fingers in the crack, touching my own.
The janitor, Duane, let me to his pick-up truck, a beat up rust bucket with a crude 'black power' fist painted over the door. I began to get uncomfortable climbing up into the cab, and my discomfort didn't improve any when I saw inside. The bench seat inside had gone, replaced by a long-haul trucker seat on the driver side, and on my side - nothing. Well, no seat, just buckets, spades and garbage - the floor was swimming in burger wrappers and cups. He urged me up into the cab, manhandling me as I climbed so he forced me in facing backwards on all fours. Reaching in among the filth, which buried my limbs, he pulled some kind of lever, trapping my hands under what must've been the old seat base. Now I couldn't do much but wiggle my arse, forced to face the back of the cab like a truant kid. Satisfied, he slammed the door, hiking around to his side and climbing in. "Now" he said, fondling my arsecheek now in easy grasp next to the stick shift, "you sit real tight." He swung his hand further back, forcing my head down, carelessly forcing me to bob over the rim of a rank mop bucket. The half full swill lurched as he started the engine. "I don' wanna have anybody see me wi' white boy trash, so you better duck youse head down til I says" he grunted, before gunning the wreck and speeding off. At first I thought it was just an accident, with all the other junk in his cab, but after a minute or so, he reached back again, forcing my head down lower, til my forehead almost touched the splashing liquid. "Yeah Wet Pussy boy, kept that jus' for you. I's promised the boys to give you a feed before fucking ya, so chow down. Drained it straight from the canteen grease trap n'all." It was disgusting, fat, meat juice and burnt scraps, my stomach churned at the smell. But he forced me down, making me lap up the foul liquid for ten, twenty minutes while he drove around, hurtling left and right, making me struggle to keep balance with my arse high in the air. Finally, when the last few slicks were sloshing around, he ground to a halt, splashing the rest on my face. My lips, mouth and throat were covered in greasy fat, and my stomach churned. As he loosened my hands and dragged me out, I left out a burp, the juices rolling over in my stomach. "We better get started with the fuck part of the date quick smart, chances are wi' them food, you's gonna be puking and shitting and wishing you was dead in a coupla hours."
I looked around, dazed, realising we were in the school carpark. With growing alarm I figured out why I was dressed this way - Duane wanted me looking like some fuckin' schoolkid. I wasn't far wrong, as he lead me inside, towards the music rooms, one of my favourite old fucking spots. "You know kid, there are cameras all round this school, and I seen everything. You sassy white boys, fucking all over, and I gotta clean that shit up afta you. And you fink you can fuck dem girls all you want but me, if I so much as look funny, I get the boot. So we're gonna have some nice old re-tri-bu-shon tonight, my style." He hauled open the door of one of the rooms, the floor covered in goop. "Some of yo' old friends got really lucky here on prom night, so I's kept it here jus' for you. Now get down on all fours and practice lapping, while I show you what a Duane-fuck is really about!" I looked down, and he was already tugging on his drawstring, letting out the long fat fucker that hung off his waist like a hosepipe. As he let his python out, he squeezed the head, oozing a dollop of precum the size of most men's load drop to the floor. "Now get that puckered deposit slot ready for colllection, y'hear"
The fuck itself was awful - I was forced to crawl, grey shorts shucked over my arsecheeks so they clung to mid thigh and let my tackle swing free, and lean down to lick the floor of spooge, and he leaned in, one hand pressing the back of my neck, caressing the 'wet pussy' tattoo on the back of my neck, while the other lined his reamer with my hole. He'd wiped the prefuck from his pisshole with his palm, smearing it on my arsecheek, telling me how he wanted to dry fuck my reamed out chute so I felt it good an proper, at least before his oil well of juice bubbled up again. Now I knew my straight boy pussy was kind of ruined already from so many guys fucks, but dry plugging me made me almost lift of the ground with pain - it was so brutal I thought he'd rupture something inside me. He rammed in three or four times til his cocksauce and my arse slime got slicked up enough not to suction every inch of his skin, and then he quickly settled in to a punishing fuck, leaking more and more til he rode me and bucked and slammed his wiry root into my crack, shooting spurt after spurt of cheese sauce up my guts. Finally he slowed down, and withdrew, bringing his spooge covered fuckspout with him. It was covered with ropes of yellowish goop which dripped on the floor in dollops. He yanked at my neck, pulling me to a crouch, my burning arse hovering over the ground, where his cocksauce gurgled out of me, coating the balls of my feet and my flip flops with his warm load. But it was his dick my attention was on, the slimy fucked out half hard dork, which we now wanted me to clean off with my tongue.
I cleaned off his funky chocolate stick, coating my mouth and tongue with his fucksauce and my own arse slime. My stomach was already churning and there was a growing pain in my gut. I needed to puke or shit or something real bad. Finally when my moans around his dick grew loud enough, and I began to fart out bubbles of cockspew, clinging at my arselips with my hands to try and hold it in, he withdrew with a plop, and told me to hold my crouch while he got something. I was cramping up, and my legs and ankles were getting covered in goop, scum also bubbling up in my throat. I heard him rummaging around in the hall, and figured he'd opened the trophy cabinet. I was right, he came back a few moments later brandishing my junior high football trophy for the team I'd captained to victory, just before my brothers had punked me. It was a big three tiered tower, with a guy holding a ball over his head - victory style - on top. He unscrewed the top, and ignoring my gritted teeth and wincing, handed me the pewter hero. The statue stood almost 10 inches high, tapering from the pointed tip of the football out over the metal player's shoulders, down his artistically rippled body and then fattening out to a wide triple tiered base, just above the screw cap. "I think it's time you took back your trophies boy" he ordered, and despite the gut ripping cramps, I realised he wouldn't let me up til I raped my sore hole with the metal statue. I slowly, gingerly fed the tip of the athletes arms up my chute, and despite the pain and waves of arse-ripping farts that slopped cocksauce over my fingers, began slowly groaning as I fucked the statue into my hole up to the shoulderblades of the silvery player. "Good show boy, but you is taking that out of here, fuckjobs like you have no place in a trophy cabinet here. I want you to push that right in, like your smuggling it outta here." Man, it was agony, slowly pushing it in, battling my own guts. I was shaking on my knees - a young fit muscular guy like me should be winning medals, not fucking himself with them. But then I guess I was pretty fucked already. Finally after a few heavy grunting minutes it was three quarters of the way in, the football grinding my insides, the base grazing my hole. He made my squat down lower, bouncing my arse against the floor to hammer it in. It was sick.
While I did so like a wild guy, he disappeared again, coming back with another trophy. It was our rowing VII trophy, another muscular metal crewman, this time holding his oar aloft. There was no way I could take it, the oar was held across, as wide as my hand. He handed it to me, ignoring the sweat pouring off my brow from having stuffed my freshly fucked arse with a huge trophy, churning guts and dick-breath mouth. "I can't fit that anywhere" i spluttered. He smiled, snapping the oar out of the crewman's hands, and handing it to me. "Hey now I bet that's small enough to plug your pisshole" he added. Tears began welling out of my eyes, as I took the blunt prong in one hand, hefted my veiny dork with the other, and slowly, gently began forcing the metal poker down my sensitive urethera. While I stuffed my own pork roll, he leant down in front of me, his breath on my face, still holding the crewman by his now empty outstretched arms. He reached out and tweaked a nipple, hard, pushing the nub out, and with the other hand he lined up the circular hole made by the rower's palm. He pushed it down on my pec, twisting the statue sideways so my nipple was caught in the metal rower's grip, pinched out from my body. I jerked, plunging the oar painfully fast down my pisshole, until the blade caught my dicklips. "Hey hey" he coaxed. "Haven't even got to the second one". My broad chest and bulging pecs made it difficult to stretch the rower, even with his arms wide, to my other pec, but somehow he managed to force the other grip sideways until it pinched at my other nipple. He let go, and the heavy statue tugged at my chest, pulling my nipples towards each other and down. He reached down to my fat porker, pushing the oar further, so the wide blade penetrated my cockhead, stretching the pisshole incredibly. "Oh shit" he said "I forgot - put your hands on your head and I'll be back..." I reluctantly put my wrists on top of my head, raising my sweaty pits to the room - my whole body was soaked now from fear, pain and sickness. I couldn't think of another trophy I'd won.
He came back in with a framed basketball top, from my junior year. It would be way too small for me now, and I began to protest. He smashed open the frame and hauled out the top, shaking his head. He used the signed satin cloth to clean off his dick hose, and then wiped up some of the other guys cockspew, and finally mopped up the puddle of his load that coated the floor between my ankles, until the satin was stained and heavy with junk. "Open wide fuckface" he commanded, forcing the jersey into my jaw like a gag. "Okay boy, now unless you want a smackdown, I want you to hold that position and wait." He gripped my cock, pulling out something that looked like a blood pressure cuff, and wrapped it tightly around the cockhead. He did something and it began to vibrate, massaging my dicksleeve in a frustrating throb. "Now just in case you're thinking of dropping those beefy arms and pulling this gear off, i'm watching you, though the lens of that camera..." Shit, the music room had a recording booth, and I suddenly saw the blinking red light of the camera inside. Here I was, wrists and ankles untied, completely unrestrained, forced to hold a sick pose, buck naked, stuffed and sweating while my cock got rock hard, all for the camera. If anyone else got hold of that tape, I knew it would end up on the internet, and I could never go anywhere in public again. The last window of hope of escape threatened to close. I moaned into the gag furiously, pleading with my eyes. "Now hold still a few more minutes, and I'll be back". He gathered up my gear and left.
The minutes felt like hours, and my cramps reached fever pitch. I couldn't do much, just breathe through my nose and hope I didn't explode. My dick was getting stubbornly hard and drippy too, I was inching towards an agonising orgasm. Then I heard footsteps, looked around panicking, thinking how I could get out of this, but it was too late. Many footsteps, and girls and guys voices blending together. Finally the door swung open and they almost fell in the room, stopping dead when they saw me. Two couples from the year below me, had come to the music room to fuck. And instead, they'd found me. First the noticed was "Wet Pussy" on the back of my bowed down neck, but it wouldn't be long till they saw the whole package - from inked up jockpig on my chest to my plugged and stuffed junk. One of the burlier guys, shocked, came forward, wrenching me up to my feet by the scruff of my neck, making me holler from the pain as the statue churned inside my raw arse, the cummy shirt dropping out of my mouth. My arms were still aloft, and they all sucked in air as they caught the "Cum Dump" and "Dumb Arse" armbands and "Jock Pig" necklace I'd been marked with. But their gaze settled on my jewelry - well the oar stuffing my prong, oarsman swinging off my pecs and the base sticking out of my tail. But despite the pain and horrible humiliation, the rapid jerking of my overstimulated fuckstalk finally won over, and with a gutteral "oh fuck", I felt the worse of all possible things as my churning balls exploded, forcing my thick viscous load up my pisshole, fighting for room with the oar. My legs gave out and I fell forward, grabbing at the guy's shoulder with my arm, leaning heavily against him as my cum began shooting out around the oar, slowly shifting it forward. It was like a sick freaky show. The group was stunned, I was still gripping the guy, naked and spewing my cocksauce all over his leg, like an animal. "Oh fuck" I said again, sinking to my knees. "What the" the guy said, staring down at me. My old locker buddy Jimbo. His face was a mixture of revulsion and shock. He reached down to support me, his strong grip slipping on my sweat pit and I slipped forward, faceplanting, the metallic oar jamming another few inches up my pisser as my fat dork smacked against the ground.
Taming the Beast 5
Emile 2010 - 2011
When I came around, I was no longer in school. It took me a second to get my bearings - sprawled over the back seat of an SUV, a gym towel covering my crotch, hiding the worst of my embarrassment. Otherwise I was still buck naked, since Duane had taken my clothes. My hands had been slung behind the headrests, and at first I thought I'd been trussed up by another sicko, since I could feel cool air on my pec valley and and sweaty pits from the a/c, but then I realised I could move my arms freely. I looked down - the trophy on my nips had been removed, but the aureoles red and angry. Seeing me moving, and staring down at my chest, Jimbo called back from the front seat, where I could just see the shoulder of his football jersey and the hem of his girls skirt through the gap in the seats. "Sorry man if you're uncomfortable, we just figured you needed outta there! I didn't want to belt you in, I figured your chest looks ... sore." Though they'd removed the makeshift titclamp, I could still feel the football arseplug and oar sound grinding my arse and jabbing my bladder, and felt incredibly filthy and uncomfortable. I reached down to the towel to ease out the cock plug, but Jimbo caught the movement in the rear view mirror, and called out that we were 'about to drop Sally off, and then he'd take me home to get cleaned up.' I held on, gritting my teeth, too weak to even move my arms down from their makeshift brace. The car slowed and Sally gave Jimbo a peck on the cheek, glancing back not at my face, but at the inked skewered jock pig tattoo emblazoned across my heaving chest, eyes following the inked dong splitting caricature arse, resting on my naked pubic bone poking out from under the towel. "Uh, bye" she quickly muttered, jumping out in a flash. Jimbo pulled out of the kerb with a swerve, keen to get me away from her parents prying eyes - whether for his reputation or my sake, I was grateful. The fast moving car jerked the towel though, which slipped dangerously low, half hanging off my stalk, the root and a few inches of dickflesh clearly visible. I tried to lift my arm over the headrest to cover up, but the weight of my corded biceps was too much for my exhausted frame, and I reluctantly gave up, figuring it was dark enough in the back anyway. Still, I caught Jimbo glancing in the rear view mirror more than usual, but I was too worn out to react, and just slung my head back, eyes shut, blocking out the thought.
I don't know how Jimbo hauled me out of the car and into his house, let alone without his parents seeing, but when I woke up, the sun was streaming through the window, and I was in his bedroom on the spare mattress, like old times. I could hear a mower in the background, and realised it must be Saturday. My hunky body was covered in a sheet, and glancing up at the bed, I could see Jimbo curled up asleep facing me, still clothed. Maybe he didn't want to change in front of me, even unconscious, or maybe he was exhausted too from the effort, but I could still see white stains on his jeans from my load having shot over his leg, and the room was rank with my stench. I glanced down, sweat marks had made the sheet into a shroud of Turin - each pec and ab incised in dark sweat stains against the white linen. My dork must've dripped all night long, it was wet against the sheet - pushing out like an elbow - and my thighs were sticky. Embarrassed, I carefully got up, wrapping the sheet around me, and tiptoed into his ensuite, locking the door and taking a scalding hot shower, attempting to scrub the filth away. I grabbed his loofah and raked at the skin til it was pink and raw - every inch of me from my hooting dickflap that had gotten me in all this trouble, to my aching shoulders that had been hunched down by so many seedy guys. Finally I realised it'd probably been in there too long, turned off the faucet and stepped out, grabbing the nearest towel to dry off and wrap around my waist. The towel was small, but my waist was still tight despite my broad frame, so I covered myself over well enough. Still, it'd been inked into a man whore, so I carefully unlocked the door and ducked my tousled head around, only coming out when a bleary eyed Jimbo gave me the all clear.
It was just him and me in the room, a bodylength apart, and despite knowing he'd seen me like this before, in the harsh light of day I was humiliated all over again to have him see my inked beefed up body. His eyes looked at mine with a mixture of disbelief and anger, darting down occasionally at the filthy full chest tattoos. I went to speak and it broke the spell - he looked away, cheeks burning, rummaging around on the floor and throwing me the first tee and pants he could find. I held them dumbly and he looked up again, shaking his head, tears in his eyes. He came over and for the first time, I realised maybe he was on my side - he put his hand on my shoulder, shaking his head, and took the clothes back, saying "no mate, we need you looking decent, if we're gonna put this right!"
Slowly, Jimbo found a pair of boxers from Christmas he'd never worn - oversized and starchy, they were uncomfortable but refreshingly normal. Then he found some suit pants, a little small since he wasn't as beefy as me, but respectable, and a well tailored collared shirt that would hide all of my obscene tattoos. I buttoned it up tight, the buttons pulling at my barrel chest, but looking in the mirror, I was decent again, for the first time in ages, and it was my turn to nearly cry. He took me over to the desk, gave me a pen and paper, and told me to write down everything - like a statement. He said he didn't care how bad, I had to get it down, and we could speak to the police, the headmaster, whoever. He grabbed some stuff, jumped into the bathroom, and let me start writing as he showered.
It was cathartic, and I wrote it all down, every detail, no matter how embarrassing - my brothers, Mr Jones, everything. It was an indictment on the school, my family, everyone I knew - a sick cycle of sex, and seeing it in front of me, my body was racked with guilt and pain that I'd let it happen. As I wrote about the repeated rapes, my arsehole twitched with pain, and I felt a rush of humiliation that I'd allowed myself - a tough guy like me - get so easily fucked so many times over. By the end, I was crying as I wrote, and barely realised Jimbo had come out, and was standing behind me, until he put his hand on my shoulder, and told me it was alright.
He took the papers and read it slowly, my skin burning as he read page after page. Finally, when he finished, he was quiet, in shock. "Fuck man, I'm so sorry for you" he said. Coming from such a tough stud like him, I was almost overwhelmed. "Hey mate, don't break up now" he said "you're made of tougher stuff...". And somehow, together, we drafted and redrafted it until it just had the cold hard facts, statement for the police and the school board, ready made. He carefully put the original in his desk drawer, and we buried the drafts in the bottom of his bin, ready to go out and report it.
We went out in the harsh sun, and Jimbo's dad was on the lawn, watering. "Hey hey" he said to us, unaware of my turmoil, and for a second I was stricken that he might see the tats through my shirt in the sun. He didn't seem to, coming over and chatting a bit, to my discomfort, until Jimbo made excuses and we bailed into his car. He glanced once or twice at the exercise book he was carrying, asking something about a playbook for football, but we brushed him off, climbing in the car fast as we could. In the front seat, cleanly dressed, in daylight, I felt normal again. "Hey mate, lets go to the school board first. The police will wanna question you for hours! I know the Chairman, he's a decent guy, he'll listen to you..." I shrugged and agreed.
Well, Jimbo was right, but for one little detail. After we arrived, who should be coming down the hall, but Conrad, the all american jock that had ploughed my wife. He was on his way to their pool, from the sound of splashing in the distance - a tight red swimsuit hugging his generous package, and a white towel slung over his square pecs. Somehow, seeing him showing off his broad near-naked body made me even more ashamed of my degradation. "You didn't tell me the Chairman was Mr White" I hissed, fearing the worst, but Conrad barrelled up, all toothy grin and friendly, palled me on the back like an old friend, and shook Jimbo's hands, as if we were regulars dropping by the house. Jimbo started to explain we were here to see his father, and he shrugged amiably, pointing to the far door, before heading out to the pool.
We went in to the chairman's plush study, and after some awkward introductions, we sat there in uncomfortable silence while he read my testimony. After he finished, face betraying nothing of his emotions, he asked me to leave for a moment, so he could have a word with Jim. I went outside, leaning close to the door, but could barely make out anything as the thick carpets and hangings muffled the sounds. Once or twice Jimbo raised his voice, first angrily, then a wounded cry, and finally, they called me back in. As I stepped in and closed the door, I sensed that things had gone awry. Jimbo was still sitting facing away from the door, the chairman's hand on his shoulder, staring at me. "You were right to come to me first" he began "as I see it, there are two choices. One, you push your complaint, lots of people get in trouble, you get a name as the town fuck whore, and Jim here has to spend his last year in unspeakable agony, at the hands of men who make Mr Jones look like a boyhood crush. That wouldn't be very nice now, would it. Or, I could give you what you want - get you re-enrolled to finish school - I'll even fix it up with Jim's dad for you to live with them for the rest of the year - all forgiven and forgotten, no harm, no foul. Much better I think. Oh, yes, and you may just have to do a few favours for me, and some of the other staff, like Mr Jones..." I began backing out of the room, dread filling me. There were sounds of splashes - guys our age horsing around in the pool - and Mr White's frank demand seemed all the more perverse only a wall away from our former classmates, in their happy innocence. Seeing me backing toward the door, he said "Oh no, it's too late for that, you leave and Jimbo here will have to replace you I'm afraid. So what'll it be?" I was trapped. "So, how about you start by taking off those ludicrous clothes, and come and give you buddy here a big thank you kiss.. "
I was in shock, but I knew it was hopeless, even to think I could have changed things was too hopeful. Reluctantly, I shucked off the clothes, all too used to exposing my hunky body to view now. Worse yet, my dick twitched and thickened, I was getting trained into being a dickwhore, and it responded embarrassingly to my humiliation. I paced over, my now half mast tool thumping against my thighs as I walked. "Mmm, nice" the chairman remarked, guiding Jimbo to stand and face me as I approached. There were tears in his eyes, and the shock of seeing me naked, inked and boned up rippled across his miserable face. Desperate to get whatever this was over, I leaned in, guiding the back of Jimbo's innocent face towards me, and gave him a firm kiss on his soft lips. My dick twitched again, grazing his pants, leaving a smear of preslop on the pocket. "No, that won't do" the chairman said, hand still on Jim's shoulders, the other on the exposed small of my back, guiding me forward until we were inches apart, my thumper wedged against his polo shirt, leaking dickjuice. "Now I always find a kiss much more romantic when you wrap your arms around his head, you know, so those big boy guns of yours are right against his cheeks and you have to come up for breath at the end..." I leant in and complied, all too aware of my sweaty pits on his shoulders, his hot breath on mine, his sad face, and the chairman's hand on my back, slipping down towards my arsecrack. I kissed hard again, my chest tight against his, dick now spurting gobs of prefuck since the chairman had started kneading my arsecheek, prying at the hole. I could smell him and was embarrassed, but not as much as when he kissed back, slipping his tongue into my mouth probingly. I pulled back surprised, but the chairman bucked me forward with his grip on my mancunt. "Oh yes fuckboy, did JIm not mention to you the terrible boycrush he has on you. Maybe it's a phase, or hero worship or something, but it must be awful to know that you've just entangled your own stardazzled idol in your fuckhole of a life... believe me, I read it in his diary last Christmas - touching really - and I had no idea how to use it against him, until now... So, boys, how about another kiss for your dear uncle, and this time Jimbo, reach around and knead his hole, make him beg for a good hard pounding by his erstwhile friend..."
Jim broke away violently, wiping his lips on his sleeve with disgust. He was streaked with dickjuice, my sweat and his own, and he looked a mess, but he flailed wildly, shaking his head as if to wake himself up. "No, no, you can't, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, I'll do anything...."
"Ah, I thought you might" the chairman said. "Tell you what, let's see who is the most chivalrous then. You, cunt, why don't you wiggle that well fucked arse of yours onto my table here, into the doggie position you and Mr Jones clearly knew so well, and let Jim here have his freedom..." I climbed up, my stomach in knots, knowing I was whoring myself out to this guy with Jim watching, his eyes fixed on my heavy balls swinging between my spread legs. I felt humiliated. The chairman came around behind me, kneading my arse again, and began slipping two fingers in, insistently, getting ready to drill me. I winced and groaned, but my cock jerked and drooled. Suddenly, Jim fumbled with his pants and shirt, anxiously half undressing in front of us. "No, no, please, take me..." I heard the chairman snort, his hand still firmly working into my bunghole. With his free hand, he opened a drawer and reached in, emptying the contents onto the table between my parted thighs with a clatter. I scrunched my head against my pecs and looked down. There was a range of dildos, the smallest a thin pink realistic dong about the size of my prong - oversized but most dickwhores could take it easily, while the largest was a frightening black ribbed bulbous log, like a tree root or stylised arm. Jim now half naked in front of me, his own dick swinging in the breeze. The chairman fumbled around, grabbing the small dildo and throwing it at Jim. "Tell you what m'boy - you want to help, you got it. You can go scott free, and let me fistfuck this nice piece of arse here like a good boy. Or you can try this out for size, and I'll downgrade my efforts to this here dong. You want to try larger and you just holler, and I'll let him off even lighter. Got it?" Jim looked at the dildo in front of him with horror, realising the devils deal in its fullest. "You want me to... and he still... " There was a moment's silence, broken only by my involuntary cry as he twisted his fourth finger around to allow his thumb in my arse, emphasising his point. Jim scrambled for the dildo "Uh, okay, I um..." It was obvious the confused teen had never even seen a dildo before, let alone stuffed a large one, unprimed into his tender pucker. "Now it will be hard for you, taking your virginity like this" the chairman explained, slowly working his hand back out again, stretching my ring further. "so lie down on the floor, arse facing us here, and pull your legs up beside your head. Lean forward until you can see that precious flower, and begin working it in. You might want to suck it a bit, or spit on the rubber head, too, it's the only lube you'll get..." So, in excruciating near silence, the teen began slowly, painfully screwing the pink intruder into his hairy virgin trench, sucking air and panting with every millimeter. As he did so, the chairman unceremoniously pulled out with a pop, replaced his hand with the blunt head of the mega dong and began jamming it in, an inch for every millimeter of Jim's, so my own grunts matched his, and we stared into each other's eyes in silent shared pain. It was awful. "Come now boys, we haven't even gotten to the dildo fucking yet..."
That night we both lay in Jimbo's narrow bed in agony. True to his word, the chairman had rang the Vice Principal and had me re-enrolled, barking the orders down the phone as he carelessly plunged the arse-splitting silicone canister into me. For the second call, to Jimbo's dad, he made Jim crawl under me on the desk, my drooling dong hovering over his face, legs up and spread so he could play with the smaller dildo as he spoke to his father in crisp warm tones about the 'need to oblige with some temporary accommodation'. Mentioning something about "returning the favour from 'nam", there was some undercurrent to the request that made us both feel a chill. When he'd finally fucked our holes to his satisfaction - until we were raw and aching and on the point of shooting our loads - we were finally allowed to dress and leave, but not before he gave us strict instructions. We were to remain together in each other's company at all times, unless he, Mr Jones or anyone else they said was their 'brotherhood'. From now on, we 'came as a set'. He wanted us to be 'real close' and 'get to know each other', so when we were alone or in private with them, we had to be buck naked, and the rest of the time, we should act like best buds - well pretty faggy best buds by his description - we had to be in physical contact all the time - 'skin to skin'. He didn't care if it was holding hands, or arms around shoulders, hand on dick or mouth to mouth, but if one of them caught us apart (in any sense), there'd be hell to pay. And on the 'getting to know you' side, each night, we had to switch on Jimbo's webcam, log on to a site he gave us, and lie on Jimbo's bed, slowly frigging each other and talking dirty for at least an hour before sleep. We weren't allowed to cum, cover up or even switch off the light or camera until morning. It was worse than ever!
The drive home was hard - both of us had ripped arseholes, and each jerk of the car was agony - plus I had my hand slung around his shoulder the whole time, while Jim gripped firmly to the wheel. We couldn't look each other in the eye, and despite being clothes, our naked bodies were burned into our eyes, and we felt the heat of each other between us.
I don't know what hold he had over Jimbo's dad, but the rest of the day and evening, his parents kept his distance, even before, dinner they suddenly decided to go out, leaving us alone to fend for ourselves. I'm not sure what was worse - getting used to constantly touching each other, especially knowing how he'd sold me out for his crush - or having to strip naked around the house once his parents left. We ate pretty quick when we realised that rule, and locked ourselves in the bedroom by 8pm. We decided to get the web show over with before his parents came back. Lying naked on the narrow bed, cocks in hand slowly jerking off was hard, especially with the look Jimbo gave me in his eyes - shame and lust - made worse by having to talk dirty too. The site had some kind of live feed, cause soon after we started, commands came crackling out of Jimbo's speakers - 'tug harder' - 'tongue him a while' - and really personal stuff, rating us like prize cows on our looks, body, package and technique. The only way to keep them quiet, they said, was to speak loud and hot, and fantasize explicitly. And after about half an hour, Jim's fantasies were pretty wild. As I pumped his slick wood in a corkscrew motion, he told me loud and filthy how he wanted to fuck me hard, and rape my face, and stretch me out again on the Chairman's table, I tried saying the same, but the unseen voyeurs howled at me, told me I was his pussy, and should keep to that. So as I bucked against his steely grip, flogging my hard porker so rough it felt the skin would peel back permanently, I had to moan for him to do me, use me, abuse me, and worst of all, he was really getting off on it. We were already close to shooting, and gritting out teeth to keep it in, when we heard the door slam in the background. We both went quiet, and the voices started up again, telling us to lock faces, and frig harder. Desperate to shut them up, we began to tonguefuck, breaking it off to (quietly) continue our trash talk, hoping it was loud enough for the webcam but still inaudible to the corridor outside. We heard nothing, and no-one came in, and finally, as our sweaty chests heaved against each other, and cocks drooled in unison, the computer pinged, and we saw our hour was up. But there was little sleep for either of us, in the harsh light of the room, with the camera blinking, and our stubborn pumped cocks bucking for release, there was small chance of relaxation.
Eventually we dozed fitfully, and my dreams were full of arse fucking and cock control, and I woke with a raging hard-on, still drooling over Jimbo's abs. We were both slick with sweat and each other's prefuck, and I slowly slipped my sore body from under Jimbo's arm, keen to wash the manstink off me before he woke up. As I walked past the computer, my fat thumper bobbing in front of me, I saw with horror that there was a series of instructions on the screen. After our show, the 'brotherhood' had compiled a list for our first day of school:
1. No showering until after gym
2. Clean up Jim's body hair.
Since he was the top, and I was the bottom (they said), it was only natural he kept some hair, and I remained boyishly smooth. But they wanted him to 'know his place'. So I had to get his razor and cream, and shave him down, leaving only 50 cunthairs above his prong, and 25 under each arm. Nothing else - no chest hair, legs or arms all had to be shaved smooth. They said they didn't care which '50 or 25' I chose - I could keep a strip to his navel or a little mustache - whatever we thought was 'pretty', but if they found more than that number, there'd be hell to pay. "Oh fuck" I mumbled, my cock spitting a clear drop of precum at the thought, "we're gonna have to AGREE to do this?" Once I was done, I was told to lick off the cream that the razor hadn't swiped away - cunthairs and all.
3. I had to find five or six rubber bands and wrap them around the base of my own glistening, smooth prick, to keep me nice and hard.
4. Sports clothes, no underwear. Jim had his lacrosse outfit, which was okay, except a bit tight around the legs, but I had to wear his junior school running gear - short shorts that wouldn't even pretend to hold in my package, and a threadbare singlet. This must've been Mr White's suggestion, I didn't even remember Jimbo running.
5. Make sure to have breakfast with Jimbo's parents, and to keep in touch with each other the whole time. While his mom was out of the room, and his father reading the paper, we had to give each other a nice long sloppy kiss.
6. Before we left, I had to find a tube of something nasty - icy hot if they had any, but any glistening sticky cream would do if not - and smear it on my nipples, just under the straps. If my nips itched at any time in the day, I was allowed to scratch them, but only lightly through the material, so the cream stayed put. Also I should take my time scratching them, cause once I'd taken my fingers away, I wasn't allowed to touch that nip again for half an hour. (Oh man, I thought, they want me to itch in agony and then humiliate myself playing with my own pecs!) Of course Jimbo could scratch them whenever he wanted, but if he did, he had to pinch them hard (if on the skin), or else keep touching me with his other hand (skin to skin) if not.
7. Jim's cock "didn't have to be tied", but I had to fingerfuck him for a couple of minutes just before we left the house. They made special mention that I was 'allowed' to suck my finger clean.
8. No driving to school, we had to catch the short bus. The whole way, we had to rub each other's dorks through the fabric, to make sure we were hard (fuck, I thought, better hope we can get the back seat!)
9. We had to give each other another sloppy kiss when we pulled into the school lot, before getting off.
10. When we got to school, we were to report directly to Mr Jones' office.
I doubled back and picked up the singlet they'd specified, hauling it over my grungy body. The shoulder straps did nothing to hide the JOCKPIG tattoo, and I knew we were in for some trouble. Jimbo was angry at the commands, but complied, even when we had to kiss at breakfast. Even with his father only inches away, the fucker still managed to slip me tongue as we briefly mashed faces over cornflakes. But it didn't get easier, and getting on the bus was agony. We waited with Jimbo's hand on my shoulder, casual like, but his touch burned on my skin. My nips burned like crazy, and having kneeded them for like 15 minutes at the bus stop, the minute I withdrew my fingers when the bus approached, they began searing again. Both of us had embarrassing hard-ons which the gear did little to hide, and I could see Jim's plum head straining against his pants and it just made my dick leak more. I was worried how much drool could pout out of my dicklips before it soaked through. When we got on, Jimbo slipped his hand back to the small of my back - under the shirt - because we were single file, and while it was innocent enough, we got plenty of looks and a few catcalls. Fortunately, the back seat was mostly empty, and so we squeezed into the middle, letting out hands brush against each other.
The next stop was a surprise - Conrad and his jock mates barrelled on, and he strode up the aisle. "Oh man" he said loud "I'm packing heat", squeezing his ample package for emphasis. He planting himself between us on the back seat, and two of his friends pushed out the two guys either side of us, while the other two grabbed the two seats on the aisle in front. We were surrounded by them now, just out of most people's view. We were pushed up against his buddies, and as he slung his arms over our shoulders, we realised we needed to reciprocate if we wanted to keep touching each other's skin, something Conrad would surely report to his father. Sweat dripped from his armpits onto our shoulders, and when he spread his legs, there was a ripe funk, like he'd been beating off before he got on. He pulled me in tighter, smearing sweat on my neck, so he could dangle his arm over my pec, and idly brush my titflesh with his fingers. The effect was electric on my tortured nub. He leaned in, his breath on my neck "Oh boy fuckface, this is gonna be fun..." Meanwhile, the jock buds either side of us, shooting the shit about cheerleaders and parties, silently guided our far legs over their thighs, forcing our legs apart unseen behind the back row. In unison they held our free arms, palms over our hands, and pushed their big paws up our legs, pushing up the fabric and wrapping our hands around our ballbags in a squirrel grip. Talking casually, they squeezed hard, forcing us to choke our own nuts and bring tears to our eyes. The guys in the aisle leaned over the seat backs, as if getting into the conversation, but using their beefy dangling arms to jab and prod our hard stalks as they talked.
Usual caveats apply - Fantasy only, stick to contentual sex with adults, in the real world.
Pretty soon tears were welling up in my eyes. This was mostly because Spud was jabbing my cock so hard that I could feel the rubber hands lacerating the shaft. Combined with the nut screw, I was in a mountain of pain. Conrad saw my tears and pushed back Spud's arm gently, like he was doing me a favour. "Hey hey, Spud, go easy, can't you see the poor guy needs a break." I was confused but grateful, wondering if they'd lay off the vice grip on my nads as well. But Conrad went on. "Hey, give him some of your water bud, let him cool down." I tried to say that it was fine - what difference would water make - but Conrad insisted, saying it was just like a time out on the field. Only the rest of them were still mauling us. Spud turned around, rummaging in his duffle bag, and finally popped up from no-where (thus the name, from the girls changerooms, that and his knobbly egg shaped head) brandishing a very full, fairly large drink bottle. He groused a bit, but Conrad made him hand it over. Reluctantly I took it with my free hand, squirting a little into my mouth. To my relief, it was just water, a little acrid from some amino supplement maybe, but a whole lot better than I'd expected. I took what I thought was enough, careful not to get my lips on it (which was, I figured, the game), and went to hand it back.
"Hey hey" Conrad said, pushing the base away from Spud and back towards me. "Don't want to get dehydrated now..." He was holding the base, tilting it back towards my mouth. I had little choice but to open up as he squirted more liquid in. He was squeezing hard now, and despite my struggling, a jet of water was smashing into my tonsils, making me choke, and splashing water all over. As I coughed and gagged, water cascaded over my chin, soaking the tank and shorts. He kept squeezing tight until the whole bottle was empty - a quart at least - most of which I swallowed, but the rest had soaked me to the skin. My face was dripping, even my hair was plastered down at the front from the spray. "Oh man, sorry bout that" he said, pointing down to my kit. It was fucking see-through! The guys, their hands now clearly visible under the fabric, sheepishly withdrew their hands, exposing my dork and ballbag in the wet folds of the shorts. It was as if I was in a wet t-shirt competition in a go-go club or something, completely fucking out there. The bus lurched to a stop, and I realised this was why they'd withdrawn. We were at school! I looked over to Jimbo - he'd at least fared better, although he was all hot and bothered from the feel-up.
A flash went off in my eyes, and it dawned on me that his assaulter, Vic, had been snapping pics with his phone the whole time. "Something for your new profile!" he smirked, flipping the phone around to show us what was on the screen. There was my profile - something I'd not touched in over a year, since getting booted from school - so long all my friends would have forgotten I was on there. Only, well, they were about to get a stream of fresh photos of me front and centre. He clicked back, to show other naked and filthy acts - the table looked suspiciously like Conrad's uncles. Oh, no, I thought, and this is being published?! Conrad and the gang barrelled out of the bus, high fiving each other as they went, still looking at the snaps and hooting. It was just Jimbo and I on the back seat, hot and wet. Dozens of schoolkids milled around the bus. "Oh well" Jimbo said, leaning in and grabbing the back of my head. "Better get this kiss out of they way..." and he faceplanted himself on me, prodding with his tongue. "No way, man" Vic called, "they're really getting off on this." Dozens of kids must've heard outside, cause the volume of chatter doubled. And I heard the phone click another photo.
Getting down off the bus, and half the school was just loitering there, waiting for the 'lovebirds' to descend. Since I was soaked through, my whole body on display, it was a billion times worse than if we'd managed to slink through unnoticed. I could hear them as we passed, especially when they saw the JOCKPIG tattoo. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck I thought. Conrad and his buddies were lingering some way back, speaking to the teammates as they arrived. I dreaded what the day would hold. But for now, we had a date in Mr Jones' office.
When we got there, Mr Jones was leaning out of his office, speaking to the career counsellor next door. I don't know if it was just the amount of dicking I'd had, and being forced to stare at so much naked man flesh, but I noticed his clothes seemed to fit tighter now, hugging his arse, and he'd beefed up. He finished the sentence and spun around, drinking in my near nakedness. "Ah, my favourite DILF" he chuckled, loud enough for the counsellor to hear. His chest filled out the tailored shirt, blonde licks showing above the collar, and there was just a shadow of his fat stalk against the pressed pants. He slung his arm around my shoulder, guiding us both into the office, the blinds already dropped. "So, how are the two love birds" he asked, shifting his arm so it ran over my shoulder and down my damp chest. "Aah, yes my favourite student" he said, squeezing my nipple, and I saw his cock lurch in the pants.
Casually unzipping with his free hand, he called over to Jimbo, to strip and crawl around behind me. Jimbo stripped down, and I felt him nuzzling the back of my shorts. It felt so dirty, this kid who idolised me now getting close. But Mr Jones had other ideas. "Not yet bucko, I know you've got the hots for these prime ribs, but you're gonna have to get off by proxy. Crawl between his legs and feast on this, while I check out the goods..." So Jimbo had to crawl between my thighs, forcing them apart, and start slobbering over Mr Jones' cotton covered club poking out of the unzipped fly. He hadn't stopped mauling my titflesh the whole time, and now slid his hand down, pushing the wet material up over my head, so it was just caught under my underarms and behind my neck like a Mexican footballer. "You know, with two kids, you'd qualify as a Dad I'd Like to Fuck, but then, I've fucked you already, and you're barely a man. Maybe I should call you something else, like PIF - Punk I've Fucked, or Pussy I'm Fucking. Ha, or maybe just fuckface, I always like that on you. So tell me daddy, how's tricks. Still on cum control? Still getting reamed out all ends? Or is this new boyfriend your nesting phase?"
His hands had dropped to my arse, kneading it. His crotch pushed forward, so the back of Jimbo's head was grinding into my cock, and yeah, I was hard. "Uh, please Mr Jones..." I stammered. He just grinned. "Oh no, I should be thanking you. I'm Vice Principal now - better pay, better clothes. All the other teachers loved my entertainment at Prom. And now we have our star pupil back, they'll be falling over themselves to help me ... so long as they can help themselves to you... You're the school bitchboy now, at least til you graduate. Which, well, let's face it, that could take a while..." He'd slipped his hand under the waistband, and was ramming his fingers into my hole hard. It was a fuck sandwich, and he bucked and rode Jimbo's face, while my cock was mashed between the twin forces of Mr Jones' fingers and Jimbo's skull. "Oh, oh yeah" he purred, but the tone was mocking, and in a moment, he pulled his fingers out with a pop, and shoved Jimbo off his crotch. "Mmm, more of that later. Don't want to stain the Armani." He wiped his slimy fingers on my chest crack, while he hauled his spit-soaked fat back into his pants, the zip straining against his erection. Jimbo's face was a mess, and I was achingly hard, and looked like a complete slut. "Now, since you're in final year, I want you to go next door to Mr Bryce, and have a word about the future. I've got some prep to do..." And he pushed us out of the office, part-fucked and panting.
Mr Bryce was a little clerk that everyone ignored. He tried to hide the campness by being serious, but his laugh always gave it away. Most of the school avoided him, teachers included, and I had no intention of ever setting foot near him before. He was younger than Mr Jones (who had a late-twenties-steak-and-veg-volunteer-lifesaver air about him), and there was something unsettling about being sent his way - my other abusers, the gym coach, physics teacher - they were all cruel sadistic men, and I hated them, but they were men anyway. Aside from my brothers and Conrad, who were all jocks, I'd only been punked by guys. It's not much of a hero claim, but when you've sunk as low as me, you cling to what shreds you can. Mr Bryce (who we'd called Mr Boys) had more of a fresh-from-college-lentil-salad-hairdresser air. And when we crossed the threshold into the next office, to see him licking his lips, I could feel that shred of dignity being torn away. "Ah, boys" he cooed. "Come, sit down, we have plenty to talk about..."
We sat down, and I reached up to pull the shirt back over my chest. "Oh, don't bother about that, but since your hands are up, why don't you leave them here, and just brace your hands behind your head." It was fucking sick, like I was posing for him. "Here, Jim, take this strap and lace his wrists together so he doesn't get fidgety" he added, and soon my arms were bound by the thong, my traps and bald pits exposed to his leering glance. "Ah, yes. And maybe space your legs apart a little, your erection looks like it needs the room, and I can smell your ballsweat from here..." I flushed red. Jimbo was shuffling his chair across a bit to get away from my elbows, and maybe out of the limelight, but the sound just made Mr Boys glance over to him.
"Jim. Yes, well you'll probably get more out of this session that this big lump of lummox here. He's just eye candy, I won't waste time on his career ... this year anyway. No, you're going to graduate soon - hooray - so exciting. Such a fine young man. I've always wanted to tell Mr White that, I know how he dotes on you but, he's always ... busy. Of course, your father will want you to go to Yale, study law no doubt." Jim squirmed, uncomfortable to be talking about college with dick on his tongue and me sitting spreadeagled. "Uh, mmhm, I mean, yes." "Whooee, I can smell cock on your breath from here, boy. Why don't you lean over and lick the sweat off your friend here, it might improve it a little. I've got some talking to do anyhow." Jimbo leaned over, and the only sound below Mr Boy's whiny voice was the lapping of his tongue on my sweaty slimy flesh. "So Jimbo, there are two paths you might go down. On the one hand, Yale, law, a glorious career. Go a little lower now, so I can see his pretty chest heaving. Then, on the other hand, there is Community College. They teach shop there, I think, but also typing and sewing, all sorts of shitty, menial jobs. I can see you there, sticking sequins on... anyway, two paths, both possible... depending on how you behave this year. A little lower now, chow down on his stick, I wanna see him writhe..."
When Jim had gotten me helplessly worked up, Mr Boys hauled him away, and pulled me up by my nipples. Gazing me in the eye, he reached down, his thin fingers prying under my waistband, and hauled out my fat cock. "Mmm, nice" he purred, massaging the fat skin, and then let go, letting it flop down obscenely. He stepped back to admire, and then went over to the window, sliding the casement up. The building was old, with big windows that almost reached the floor. It was a half level higher than the playground, so they could overlook but not be overlooked. "Now come here, boy, while I talk to Jim, I have a punishment for your cocky ways, long overdue. I want you to climb out on the ledge, just as you are, and apologise to all the girls out there you've wrongly dicked. "What, like this?" I asked - I was bare chested, cock out, hands spread, completely exposed. "Just as you are" he replied, pushing me over to scramble out onto the stone mouldings of the window ledge.
At first, standing there, I was frozen with shock. I felt the window slide back down behind me, and looking down between my thighs, I could see the glassy panes reflecting my pink skin back. I was now trapped. There was a tap on the window, Mr Boys telling me to begin. I cleared my throat, and a couple of guys glanced up, freezing when they caught sight of me. As yet, only two or three among dozens had even seen me. I spotted Jenny, who was only a junior when I'd first gone out with her. "Uh, Jenny, I'm sorry..." I began, stammering, my voice trailing out when she glanced up, shocked, and looked away. A small crowd was gathering. "Penelope, I'm sorry..." I got out only a few names, before a few of the jocks came over towards me. My ankles were at head height, and I was suddenly aware they could pull me down whenever they wanted. "What did you say?" one called. Spud, of course. "Um, I was apologising to Mary... for ... um..." Oh shit, I thought, he was going out with her now. "For?" "For having slept with her last year..." I finished lamely. "You dicked my girlfriend?" he started, fuming, grabbing at my ankle. In a flash, four of them had my legs, yanking me down from my perch. I couldn't brace, and landed hard on my tail, head banging against the window. I craned around, but Mr Boys was behind the desk with Jim, occupied. They held me there, knees pushed wide against the stonework, my crotch now eye level with the crowd. "Eewee, that's disgusting" one junior girl said, pointing to my thick stalk and grossly swollen sac. "Say it again" Spud grunted, holding a fist up threateningly. "I'm sorry, Spud, really, I'm sorry I dicked your girlfriend..." I began, but his face just turned dark, and he laid a blinding smack into my crotch, hitting the base where my cock and body joined. Their air went out of me with a whoompf, and I wondered if he'd smashed my pelvis. Tears formed, and I gasped for air, doubled over. Finally, they pushed up my elbows, and my breathing slowed enough to speak. "Apology accepted" he snorted. "Now, who else's girlfriend have you fucked that you want to apologise to?" he asked. I looked around pleadingly. But the crowd was filled with angry jocks, and my ex's.
I don't know how many blows I took before I felt the window slide up behind me, and Jim's strong arms under my armpits, hauling me back, out of reach. Guys had pummelled my pelvis, smashed my nutsac, I was a beaten bruised mess. Blubbering, I kept saying I was sorry, so sorry. "Hey hey" Jim tried to comfort me, but I saw he was also crying. And there was juice leaking down his calf.
Mr Boys hovered close, his hand pressing on my shoulder. "Why don't you kneel down here, and Jim, just reach up and grab the windowframe. We were a foot from the window, so Jimbo had to lean forward to do it. From the playground below, most of his body, from his waist up, would be visible. If he'd been wearing his proper Lacrosse kit, this would've been okay, but they'd insisted on his practice gear - the sleeveless singlet and baggy mid-thigh shorts, so when he put his arms high, everyone got a good look at his exposed abs and denuded armpits from below. A few girls were pointing - all the jocks took pride in their man fur, and his wispy 25 pit hairs hadn't gone unnoticed. Mr Boys positioned me right behind Jim, and I could feel the heat from his arse radiating towards my face. He lifted the hem of his baggy shorts between two fingers, sliding it up and towards me. I don't know how much the girls could see, but I knew that as he pulled it, the material would be getting tighter around his front. "Now why don't you slip your head in under there and moisten your lips on his, so you can suck out any embarrassing wetness from your big old boyfriend there. I couldn't believe he wanted to dive under his shorts and rim him. Of course, there was no choice, and soon I was caught in the hot and musky environment between his tense thighs, Mr Boys pushing my head hard between his buttcheeks through the fabric, while it strained and pulled the shorts back. I could hear a girl scream 'Dick' through the muffled fabric. While the shorts were short, they were thick, so I was hot and breathing hard in no time, sweat dripping off my chin onto my chest. Lapping up the counsellor's cum from Jimbo's tight hole was rank and twice I gagged, spluttering. It was too much. I tried to pull my head down and out of the dutch oven, but Mr Boys held my chin up, trapping me inside. As I fought him, it drove Jimbo forward, until his cock was pressed against the glass, and my head was trapped between Mr Boy's shoving and his humid flesh. Boys ground my head into his crack til I was suffocating in there, my head spinning, until I fell slack.
The bell ringing for second period woke me up. Somehow, I was now in Mr Jones' office, tied back-to-back to Jimbo, an uncomfortably full feeling in my arse. I don't know how long I was out, but my head now hurt as much as my ballbag. "Okay here's how it works" Mr Jones said, like he was teaching a lesson. "That nice full feeling you guys have, that's an inflatable double headed dildo crammed in your worthless arses. Now Jimbo, I know you've been fucked raw recently, so it's probably a little more painful for you - thus the gag. But here's the kicker. I've connected this hosepipe to the tap in my washroom, so it'll slowly start filling that rubber dong nice and full. Jimbo, all trussed up and gagged like that, won't be able to to much about it, but you, it's in your control. You can just reach this valve on the inlet. See, if you leave the valve open, both of you guys will keep filling evenly. Flip it one way, and Jimbo here gets all the pressure, flip it the other way, and it will all come your way. Now those jelly inserts can stretch up to 14" x 5" each, so you'll just have to figure out how much each of you can take before i get back. Now here's the maths problem, gentlemen. You have 1 period, at a rate of 1L/hr. You're both back in school now - figure it out...
For the first 10 minutes I pushed the lever my way, thinking I'd 'take one for the team'. The flow on the hosepipe was wicked, a steady flow, and soon I could feel it filling up inside me. I was shit at maths, to busy nailing the teacher to nail the problems, and suddenly now I realised that my wellbeing was going to depend on a very immediate way on my education. Fuck, a fucking maths problem as he abused our aching arses, what the hell kind of twisted teacher was he. Another five minutes passed with me frothing around like this, squirming and shifting, the expandable dildo now very uncomfortably large in my hole. I had no idea how much more it, or I, could take. "I'm sorry Jimbo" I cried out, turning the tap the other way. Immediately he bucked and jumped, as the heavy flow of liquid began pushing up his raw hole. "Oh fuck man" I said to him, the pain in my arse not going anywhere "I don't get how I'm supposed to do this." Jim was moaning wildly now in his ballgag. Shit, I thought, he's probably worked it out. "Uh Jim" I managed, tears now forming from the pain in my buttcrack. "So like 1L an hour, and a lesson's what, 40 minutes. So what's that, like 40 mLs or something. From his grunt, I guessed not. I thought harder. Fifty? Fifty-five? Sixty? Sixty-five? He changed his grunt at that, so I guess I'd got it right, or close enough. "Oh shit, okay, man, so we gotta take 65 mLs... uh.... what does that mean, exactly..." He was still moaning, I guess his was getting pretty full too. "That's like, what, seven inches?" I asked. No sound, but Jimbo puffing into the gag. "Eight? Nine?" From his bucking, I guessed it was pretty uncomfortable for him too. Shit, I saw the time, half an hour had passed. I shifted the tap half way back, letting the flow begin in me too. I was really uncomfortable now. "Shit man, what?" I asked. I heard a sound like a long groan. I guess he'd just figured it out. "What man, it IS nine inches?" That same negative sound from before. "Ten inches?!" He spluttered his yes moan. 14 inches deep was bad enough, but I was now feeling the pressure of a dong approaching 5 inches girth. Now I figured it - either we could both take the equivalent of a 10 inch fat dick (or whatever the shape was that was like it), or one of us could take an ordinary dick, and the other the full motherlode. I knew for Jimbo, even a fat six incher or so would be hard. Reluctantly, with tears in my eyes, I pushed the tap all the way over, my way, letting the full force flow into me. Oh boy, it stretched my hole wildly. I felt like I was giving birth or something, the cramps were so bad, my legs were shaking, my thighs dripping with sweat. Finally something happened, it backed up or something, cause the hosepipe kinda pulsed, and threw the tap out of my fingers, forcing the flow the other way. For the last few minutes as I sat there, knees up in agony, the rest of the water backwashed through my pucker and flowed straight into Jimbo's arse.
The bell went, and a minute or two later, Mr Jones came back from his class, sauntering in whistling. He gazed at us a moment, satisfied, until through my sweat and cramps I croaked "Just fucking turn it off!!!" He grinned, strolling over to the tap and gently easing it closed. As the flow stopped, I felt the pressure on my anal ring give just a little. He walked up to the stopcock, taking it from my hand. With his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed the tube, and then felt the gurgle as it drained into Jimbo's arse. "Quite the gentleman" he said to me, figuring I had the fuller dildo from the way it was draining into Jimbos. He pushed the stopcock all my way, trapping it inside me, and dropped it to the floor. He undid the ropes around us, and without each other to pull on, we were forced to drop our feet to the floor, taking the full force of our weight on the inflated dongs. It was torture. He walked around in front of me, grabbing my thighs, and lifting them, spreading my legs either side of him and forcing me to drop in the seat, scrunched on my chest, arse high. He rested my calves on his shoulders, reaching his hands over my ankles and prising apart my buttcheeks. He pressed a finger against the dildo, sending a wave of pain up my spine. "Very nice, not a wrinkle. Totally full. Shows your learning. Just for that, I'll give you a choice. I was going to make you wear those all day..." I groaned loudly at that "...but, since I'm feeling generous, I'll let you drain them ... into each other's mouths!"
I can't tell you how sick and perverted it was, for two young jock guys, butts stuffed, having to lie on the floor, squatting and grunting from cramps, gently manouvre themselves into a kind of 69 position, and then pushing each other's dicks to one side, push our mouths over the valve of each cock and squeeze it between our teeth to release the now warm juice into our stomachs. Even though I knew it was just water, the smell of Jimbo's buttcrack, again, the warm liquid, the pressure of it shooting out of him and down my throat, it was rancid. And, of course, the humiliation of simultaneously doing the same to him, barely able to control it. Finally, we staggered to our feet, and he none-too-gently pulled the inflatable dongs from our arse. "Lick these clean" he told us "they'll be getting lots of use from now on." As we stood there, sucking on the arse-slimy soft 14 inch plastic, the water gurgled through and I began to feel the telltale pressure on my bladder. I'd not pissed since last night, and the rubber bands around the base of my cock were now cutting into my piss-hard wickedly. Looking at Jimbo, he was having the same problem - worse probably, since I'd been fuller. Mr Jones noticed too. He walked up, taking a dickhead in each hand, gently rolling and manipulating them, making us pulse. "Getting off on this, are we?" he asked, and I spluttered "No thir, I just need to pith". The plastic on my tongue was making me lisp even worse.
He kept manipulating the cockheads until we were bone hard, curving cocks shiny and arching up and out. "Sure, you can go to the bathroom, but don't forget to take Jimbo with you, to hold your pig pizzle while you piss. I mean all that water you chugged is gonna make a healthy flow, and you don't wanna splash now. In fact, make sure you drop your shorts to your ankles, and your tee up above your nipples just in case. No dumbfuck, you can't hold on to your own dork - remember - skin to skin - just put your hands behind your head, elbows out, pits facing the wall while Jimbo gives you a helping hand. I don't care who the fuck comes in. Then you can do the same for him. Hurry up though, third period is half over, and you don't want to miss fourth.." I looked at him dumbly, my cock now on fire with fuckneed, piss and the laceration of the rubber bands. He gently pushed his thumbs over our dicklips, almost making me lose control and start pissing everywhere. He seemed to know this, shaking his head to remind me there'd be consequences. "Please thir ... fourth?" He smiled. "Geography. Not a good subject for a dumbfuck like you, but don't let that bother you. See, you're gonna be the new teacher's aid..."
Somehow we managed to clean the sheathes to his satisfaction, and he finally let us go. By now, both of our dicks were raging hard, and there was only a few minutes left of class. Uncomfortably we pulled our miserable clothes back on, Jimbo's cock tenting the loose shorts obviously, while my cock kept pushing up the hem of my tight white running shorts, waving and rising, rolling it up to the waist, like a great fleshy charmed snake. We ran the corridors, not forgetting to touch skin, and burst into the bathrooms with barely second before the bell. My piss flowed thick and fast, splashing everywhere, but I couldn't do much to stop it. The bell went, and I realised that we'd have to stay like that - shirts up and shorts round our ankles, while I 'helped' Jim with his mega-piss. It took ages, and soon guys were milling in, gawking and laughing at my hand enveloped around his dick as he pissed a strong heavy stream of water into the bowl. They called us fags and fuckbuddies, and much worse, but everyone kept their distance. Finally his cock drooped and I had to shake it out, eliciting more laughs, before we could both pull our skimpy clothes back up (and down) and face them. We were both beet red, completely humiliated. It was half the fucking team, juniors, like the whole male half of the school had crammed into the johns. We pushed past them, ignoring the jabs and jostling, and headed for an unknown fate.
Jim was in geography class, so he led the way, holding my hand by the finger. Lots of guys noticed that, and the taunts kept coming. "Ignore them" he mumbled, pulling me quickly, and we made it into the class just as the second bell went.
"Ah, Jim, good to have you back" the teacher said, a blonde Alice-type with round glasses. Jim let go of my hand and sat in his usual desk (I guess) in the front row. I went to follow, mindful of 'the rule', but I felt her hand on my shoulder. "No, it doesn't apply here" she said sweetly. Fuck, she knew. I looked down at her placid face, her eyes boring into me. Smiling a little, she said "Nice to finally know you. You ran out of my husband's office so quickly, I never was given that ... meat ...meeting..." With a shudder, I realised she must've been the Chairman's wife. "Now, why don't you slip out of those clothes and go stand in front of that map there. Your beefy butt should just about cover up most of it." Most of the class had filed in, and eyes were all on me, standing dumbly at the front of the class. Everyone knew I'd been kicked out for knocking up a girl, and the girls looked at me piteously, like I was trash. The guys, though, mostly just grinned. "So class" she said innocently, as I wrestled with my clothes, no easy feat after being cramped with a 14" fat dildo up your arse not long before. Also, I'd stupidly tried to pull my singlet up and shuck my shorts down simultaneously - somehow thinking quicker would be less embarrassing, so I capered about like an idiot. "Quick quiz". A groan went up. "Hush hush. I think this one you'll enjoy. So you remember last month I asked you to name twenty countries on sheets. Well, as you know, your answers were terrible. Really, this is why Americans have such a bad reputation. Beyond Paris and Florence, you might as well have been on the moon..." A few laughed at this, maybe cause I was baring my abused arse to them at the time, struggling to get my foot out of the shorts. "Well, anyway... now, stand over there, yes, in front of the map, facing the class. No, don't cover up, spread your legs out to touch the corners of the map, and your hands to reach the other corners..." The map was about 6 foot square, so I was stretched in a wide X now, my bruised tackle dangling. Most of them were transfixed on my flaccid thumper wagging in front of me. "So, yes, your classmate here will be doing an invaluable favour. I'm going to call out a name and you'll have to pin it in place..." Oh shit, I thought, they were going to put map pins in me. A hand shot up "But how will we know when we're right, and what if he moves?" one girl asked. The teacher thought about this a while. "Yes, you're right. Turn around, boy, and press yourself against the board..." I turned, my arse now facing the class, my dick dangling below. "Right, so this way, you pin him to the place, and I'll check at the end. One pin per person, and don't forget to write your name on the flag..." I heard a rummaging as she passed the box of map pins around. "Hmmm, since we're doing it this way, I'll start in the middle and work our way out. So, who in this class knows Africa. Eloi? Why don't you come forward and show me ...." she stode over to me, gazing at my hunky exposed chest over her spectacles. "Show me Cairo" she finished. I looked down, scrunching my head on my chest. It was under my right nipple. I spun my head around, to see a big black kid approaching, gripping a very long pointy pin. Then I realised the worst part of it. This close, they could see the answers ... if they mashed up close enough to me. So I was gonna get up close and personal with a class full of guys and girls, naked and skewered.
Some of them were nicer, some of them were not. One girl skewered Anchorage between the webbing of my fingers. Another guy made me stick out my tongue to reach Greenland (even though it was wrong). More than a few took extra long rubbing up against me looking for answers. The last name was Jimbo. "Jim, to complete the picture, would you kindly mark Johannesburg." He came up to me, already squatting between my legs. There was a long pause. "But miss... it's not covered by anything..." he said. "Well then, you better pull something down, better you." Sickeningly, we both realised what she meant. He reached up to my flaccid cock, pincering the foreskin between two fingers. "Sorry buddy" he whispered, wrenching the skin down hard... "Good" I heard the teacher whisper "right through the ugly cockhood..."
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