Gender: Male Age: 44 Location: Hell
|Introduction: A horny, perverted man abducts a teenaged boy for, well, read the story and you'll see....|
Here’s another one from the ‘vault’ – I wrote this years ago, it was my first attempt at writing something ‘hard-core’… I’ve never finished it, but if you think I should, let me know…. email@example.com
There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all. While he’d always been proud of how much strength his lithe, little body could muster, against the bigger guy, his struggling was useless. At least, he figured it was a guy and that he was bigger. And, well, there was the fact that the first arm that grabbed him around his head, not only blocked his mouth, it blocked his nose and eyes as well. Once he stopped struggling he found that he could breathe his mouth and nose were at the crux of his captor’s elbow. Through the crack, he could pull air in. It took him a moment, once the initial shock of being suddenly seized wore off, to realize also that his captor’s arm was hairy. Really hairy. So hairy, that even where it was pressed tightly against his face, it tickled. The other hand had him around the waist. Both pulled him tight against his captor’s body. He noticed the man’s smell. Tart, was the first thing that came to his mind. Tart, in a musky, sweaty, masculine kind of way. And he even thought he smelled salty-ness, until he realized that his mouth was open a bit, which explained the tickling sensation on the inside part of his lips, as well as the salty taste.
It seemed as though his whole body was enveloped by his captor, then suddenly he felt his feet break contact with the ground. His backside was held tight against the man’s frontside. He could feel the man’s chin bumping the top of his head. He could feel the man’s muscle against his back. Then they started to move. Slowly at first, he felt the man’s arms readjusting around his frontside. Then the footsteps, which he could feel throughout his whole body, became faster.
It was almost like riding a horse, only he’d never his back against a horse’s belly before. It suddenly struck him that he should be scared. After all, he’d just been kidnaped. Not to mention that every few steps, he could feel something at the base of his spine. Some part of the man’s body, he didn’t want to think about which, which made him even more frightened. Yet, he wasn’t as scared as he felt he should be. It always seemed to be that way. When his grandfather died, he was sad. But he didn’t feel the need to break out into tears, as so many others had. When teachers called pop-tests, he never groaned with his classmates. He figured, either you pass, or you fail, there’s nothing you can do about it. His initial shock at being grabbed was more shock of someone being there, someone who snuck-up not being seen or heard. He was shocked that someone could get close enough to seize him, without him sensing anything at all.
As the man carried him out of the woods, his senses were overloaded. Only his vision was blocked, which heightened the others. His olfactory sense was filled with potent, sweaty man. And man was all he could feel. Surrounding him. Encompassing him. Fully supporting him. Tickling him. And the heat. The man was hot. Even through his clothes, he could tell that the man’s body was much warmer than his own. Right above his head, he could hear the man breathing, heavily, almost panting (and he could feel each of the man’s breaths, as the muscled chest pressed rhythmically against his back). He could still taste the man’s salty skin, though the big arm no longer squeezed so tightly against his face. Along with all of that going-on, his mind was also trying to cope with his situation.
Nobody knew he’d been in the woods. No one would miss him until well after dark. And it couldn’t be much later than noon, give or take half-an-hour, since he knew that with all the other stimulation wracking his brain, his sense of time might be off some. He knew it would be at least midnight before anyone would get worried enough to do anything, other than maybe make a few calls to his friends’ houses. They might even wait until morning, before they did anything drastic. By then, who knew where they would be? Well, his captor did, he supposed. He heard the crack of a breaking limb. Less than a second later he heard the man grunt. He felt the big arms slacken around him just a bit and felt the man’s body curl-in a bit. In that position, there was definitely something pushing against his bottom. Something big and hard, and even hotter than the rest of the man’s body.
Now, he knew that logically, there was only one thing that it could be. Where the man held him against his torso, well, there was only one explanation that made sense. Yet, his mind came-up with a dozen different possibilities, keeping the logical one away from his foremost thoughts. It couldn’t be. After all, who would ever get a hard-on from taking him. He was just an ugly, skinny little guy. He knew it. He didn’t try to pretend he was anything other than what he was.
Well, there were some things he pretended about, but that couldn’t be helped. There was no way he’d ever tell anyone anything about those thoughts, he sometimes had. The more he tried thinking of what else it could be (a flashlight, a roll of half-dollars, a gun) bumping against his bottom, the more he tried not to think about it, the more the reality began to sink-in. It wasn’t until he’d finally admitted to himself, that indeed, his captor actually did have a raging boner, which was bouncing against his butt as the man carried him through the woods, that he realized his own dick was hard. With everything else going on in his body, it never registered in his brain. Now, it didn’t surprise him that he’d gotten an erection. After all, in a weird sort of way, one of his fantasies was coming true.
Ever since he was young, and started imagining what sex might be like, the thought of a big strong man taking him, having his way with him, would cause a tingling sensation between his legs. Since puberty, those same sort of thoughts (those he never spoke of) had turned into the fantasies he used while he masturbated. He didn’t always think about being kidnaped and raped when he jerked-off. There were other fantasies too, not all of them were as kinky (though a few were even more so), and sometimes he got himself off without thinking about anything at all, making himself climax just from the feelings of what he did to himself. And there were times when he imagined himself catching some guy or another, and being the one in charge. Being the dominant one, in his mind, was more manly. An issue he had with himself. He never thought he’d ever feel truly a man. Just thinking about another guy putting his cock up his ass . . . well, there was no denying a certain feminine quality at the desire to be penetrated.
He couldn’t tell how long they’d been moving. He couldn’t figure-out which direction they’d gone. He wondered where the man was taking him. At one point, he felt the man slow and stop. He could hear panting, heavy breaths. All he could smell was sweat, a little of his own, but mostly the heady scent of his captor. And the big arms flexed. He bounced in the man’s grip. A second later, the man’s upper hand moved down, reaching and grabbing him between his legs. Then the arm which had been around his waist, was over his shoulder and around his chest. He could feel the man’s hand, the one between his legs, grope around for a second or two. Then he heard (and felt the vibrations of) a deep rumbling chuckle. The man’s hand tightened around his crotch, and they started to move again. He could have sworn that, as they moved through the woods, his captor was wiggling his fingers with purpose, that the man was actually playing with his hard dick.
With his eyes uncovered, he could see his surroundings. All he saw were trees and bushes and dirt and leaves and... Well, all that and, looking down he could see the big, hairy arms holding him. When he turned his head to the sides, he could see the massive shoulders that the arms were connected to. When he tried looking further back and a bit up, to see the man’s face maybe, the man’s chin would smash into the top of his head.
It wasn’t much longer before they reached their destination, or at least their first destination. As they approached the white cargo-van, the hand at his crotch moved away, for which he was thankful. The man’s groping had actually brought him close to climax. A few minutes more and he surely would have creamed his jeans. The man used that hand to slide-open the side-door of the van. As soon as the door was open, another rush of fright coursed through him. The entire inside of the van, or at least the whole back-end of it, was carpeted and there were cushions and pillows strewn all around. He felt his body being half-lifted, half-pushed into the van. He landed face down, on the thick, plush neutral carpeting. The pitch of his body (and the whole van for that matter) shifted as the man climbed into the vehicle.
Within seconds he felt hands at his head. He struggled a little, but in the end, the man tied a blindfold around his head. Then, after the man moved around a little, he felt his whole body being turned-over. He’d been flipped, so that he was now front-side-up. It wasn’t much longer, before he felt the man’s hands at his crotch again. Then, for the first time, he heard the man’s voice.
“Got yer’self a nice, little dick there, looks like,” the man’s fingers moved more intently as he spoke.
He couldn’t help but wiggle his hips a little. Despite his fears, the man’s ministrations did feel good. He’d already been primed. And if the man kept doing what he was doing, he was going to come. However, after only several seconds, the man’s hands stopped playing with the bulge in his jeans.
What the man did next didn’t help his situation at all. The big fingers had stopped groping his dick, however, they started unfastening his jeans. Within a few seconds, the man was pulling his pants off. He tried to resist, spreading his legs, bending his knees, however the man would have none of it. He was thankful that the man only took his pants (well, the man also pulled-off his shoes, in order to get his jeans off), leaving his shirt, underwear and socks. But as soon as his pants were gone, he felt the man’s hand back on his crotch. With only the thin cotton of his briefs between his skin and the man’s, the sensations felt more intense.
With one of the man’s hands groping his dick through his underwear, he felt the other big hand on his leg. That hand moved up and down, slowly, between his knee and crotch. He could hear the man mumbling under his breath. Some of the deep, grunting words weren’t intelligible. He did, however, hear phrases like, “ . . . so fucking smooth . . . ” and “ . . . big fucking dick . . . little guy . . . ” and “. . . so damned cute . . .”
With each stroke of his leg, he could feel the man’s other hand getting closer and closer to his crotch. The hand that was already there was making him feel so close to shooting. He knew that if both of the man’s hands were to start fiddling with his dick, there was no way he’d be able to stop himself. And when he felt something else at his crotch, he first thought that it was the man’s other hand. But when he felt that hand squeezing just above his knee, he knew that it must be another part of the man’s body between his legs. He heard the man breathe-in deeply, and felt a slight chilling between his legs. When the man released his breath, however, and he felt the hot blast of heat in his crotch, he understood.
So when the man was licking, kissing and nibbling at his briefs, stimulating his dick, balls and everything else down there, and one of his fingers found the gap in his underwear, right where his legs came together, and he felt that finger actually touching his skin, well . . . With what the man’s mouth and nose were already doing to him, when that finger touched him, right between his balls and his butthole, well . . . He tried to stop it. But he couldn’t. He knew that, but it didn’t stop him from trying. Which in the end, made it that much worse. He let it build. Keeping himself as tight as possible, for as long as he possibly could, damming the eruption. His balls were boiling and every other cell in his body was screaming for release. He knew he was only postponing the inevitable. And he also knew, by the amount of focus he needed to use holding it at bay, that when it did happen, it would probably be the most powerful he’d ever experienced.
In those few minutes, nothing of his actual situation crossed his mind. The only thing that mattered to him was what was happening between his legs. That it was happening as a result of a man he didn’t know, or at least hadn’t seen yet, who’d just abducted him, well, as he felt his load simmering in his balls, he didn’t think about any of that. He was feeling things he never had before. And other than the initial shock when he was grabbed, and the chin banging into the top of his head while they were moving through the woods, everything else he’d felt had actually been pleasurable. And all that pleasure was now coming to a head. His strength had been sapped. He couldn’t fight against it any more. He fought it off, for as long as he could.
As the first spurt, which forced through the very last of his fight, was nothing more than a mere dribble. However, he felt that dribble break through his squeezed body, he felt it moving through him, all the way to the tip of his dick. And he felt the warm liquid being sucked-up by the fabric of his underwear. Then, one of the man’s chunky fingers pushed through his tightened buttcheeks, and he felt rough skin moving over his hole. His second spurt shot out of him like a liquid cannonball. He heard the man chuckle. He felt warmth around the head of his dick, which was already feeling pretty hot. His third shot blasted-out, not as strong as the previous one, but more fluid actually shot-out of him. His ears registered a whining moan. He realized that it was his own voice. And barely audible, under the moan, he could hear slurping noises. And each slurp he heard corresponded to the release of some pressure on the head of his dick. The next round he shot was stronger and felt like an ounce or two of juice poured out of him. The slurping and the pulsing pressure on his dickhead increased its rhythm. As his body expelled the fifth wad of his young seed, he felt the hands on his hips.
There was a brief moment, when the tip of his dick felt cool. It didn’t last long. The next explosion was preparing to explode (though without as much force as those previous), when the coolness was replaced by heat and wetness. At once, he knew what had happened. The coolness was when the man pulled his underwear down a bit, and his dick was exposed to the air. And the wet heat was when the man took his dick into his mouth. That shot of cum, his sixth in as many seconds, had more volume and more force than any previous. And the last few had been the most powerful he ever had felt. Somehow, knowing that he was shooting into someone’s mouth (a first for him) made it hit a lot harder. He knew that the man was trying to swallow the wad he’d just shot. That knowledge made his seventh spurt almost as big and strong as the sixth one. He felt the suction, in the man’s mouth, get stronger. He could hear the muffled gulping (now sounding about even to his moaning) increase tempo. And when he felt the hot drips on his belly, he knew that the man had let some of his load dribble through his lips.
So, of course, the eight and ninth rounds of cum he shot were even more powerful yet. He heard the man trying to keep-up with everything he was pumping into his mouth. The pool of heat on his belly was growing. And finally, the intensity of his ejaculations began to subside. The man continued sucking, drinking as much of his cum as possible, until his body stopped convulsing in orgasm, and started jerking, a result of the man’s mouth, still slurping on his overstimulated dickhead. His moan turned to a cry and his hips wiggled harshly, trying to break the contact between his dick and the man’s mouth.
It took a moment, but the man caught his hint, and the mouth was removed from his dick. The hand in his crotch, one finger of which was still implanted between his buttcheeks, remained. He could feel another of the man’s fingers, on that same hand, gently massaging the lump between his balls and butt. In his post-orgasmic bliss (a result of the most incredible orgasm he’d ever experienced in his life) the man’s fingers between his legs felt good. The gentle, rhythmic prodding somehow helped him relax and catch his breath.
And just as his breath was returning to normal, the man’s hand did move from his crotch. He heard something that sounded like, “. . . my turn now . . .”
He could feel the man moving, his weight being shifted around. It took him a bit to figure-out that the next sounds he heard were the man unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He took a deep breath, trying to figure-out what was to come next. His mind, however, was quickly derailed, when the stench permeated his nose. If forced to describe the odor, he would have said it smelled like a cross between a locker-room on a hot day and some sort of spoiled dairy-product. He was about to turn his head, hoping to inhale fresher air than that he’d just breathed-in. His movement, however, was abruptly stopped by two big hands taking hold of his head.
The awful smell got even stronger. The fingers on the hands, which grabbed his head, began to tighten in his hair. Tighter, painfully. He opened his mouth to yell-out. The sound was blocked, as something hot and fleshy, which, oddly enough, didn’t taste as bad as it smelled, was shoved into his mouth. Once again, he knew what it was in his mouth. Regardless, he tried to make himself believe it was a couple of the man’s fingers and not his cock in his mouth. No matter how much he tried to make himself believe anything else, the truth of the matter was that his mouth was full of cock. He heard the man moan, loud and deep. He felt more of the mass forcing its way into his mouth. The hands on the back of his head were clenched into fists, he could feel a few hairs being snapped from their follicles. Using his hair for leverage, the hands pulled his head onto the rigid, hot, rod of flesh. The thing inside him reached the back of his mouth, but kept trying to push further inside. His breath was cut-off and he could feel his stomach preparing to retch.
For the first time since being seized, fear struck him. True fear. The kind he’d only felt a few times before in his life. Like, when he was five and fell off his grandparent’s dock, into the lake (his dad pulled him out of the water within ten seconds). Or when he was ten and that Boxer came charging at him, barking ferociously (but, all the dog wanted was to lick his face [and the bark wasn’t really all that ferocious]). Or the time when he was thirteen and his mother barged into his bedroom one night. He was naked and hard, with all the covers pushed to the foot of his bed. His eyes closed and he was going at himself like there was no tomorrow. On the brink of climax, he heard her say, “Oh, my word!”
He thought he was going to die. He tried to breathe. And he tried to his stomach from turning inside-out. The former, he found impossible. And while he was keeping-up with the latter, he knew it wouldn’t be long before his reflexes would win-out. The pressure against the entrance to his throat was becoming too much. He knew if he lost that fight, all would be lost. His ears were ringing and he could feel tears pouring from his eyes. He heard one more loud moan, accentuated by more force applied to the back of his mouth, then everything seemed to go quiet.
The hands holding his head relaxed their grip in his hair. The thing in his mouth pulled back a bit, relieving the pressure and allowing his lungs to fill with air (as musty and dank as that air might have been). The incessant urge to gag subsided. He wiggled his head and pushed with his tongue, trying to get the rest of the thing out of his mouth and as he did he heard another deep rumbling growl. Quieter then the last one, though deeper in pitch and longer lasting.
After a few breaths, his fright subsided some. The energy from his waning fear was transferred to his desire to get the thing out of his mouth. His tongue pushed even harder and he used the rest of his mouth in his effort to spit it out. He thought he was almost there, the thing was most-the-way out of his mouth. One of the hands released his head (the man’s other remained where it was) and a second later he felt the thing being pushed back inside his mouth with much more force. Then, as he used his tongue against the onslaught, something happened.
Even if he admitted to himself what it actually was in his mouth, he could find no explanation for what he was feeling. It was like his tongue pushed inside a hole, in the thing in his mouth. Now, assuming that it’s a given - there was a cock in his mouth. And knowing that all cocks have holes in their tips, well, he knew that too. However, whatever it was his tongue passed through wasn’t like a piss-hole. Even on a cock the size of the man’s (although he had nothing to compare it with, other than his own, which wasn’t even in the same class) the hole his tongue went through didn’t feel like a piss-slit. He thought it felt like what he’d imagined sticking his tongue in someone’s butthole would feel like (a thought he only had when he was feeling really, really kinky, usually only when he had one of his fingers two-knuckles-deep inside his own butt).
Then the taste hit, on the very tip of his tongue. He’d been glad, when the man’s cock was first shoved into his mouth, that the taste wasn’t as bad as the smell. However, once his tongue slid into the hole (which he would realize much later, was actually the tight band of skin at the tip of the man’s un-circumcised foreskin) the awful taste seemed to fill his mouth. His gag reflex was back, even though the man’s cock was nowhere near his throat. The taste was even worse than the smell. And only a second later, before he’d even thought about getting used to the bitter, rotten taste in his mouth, he felt something moving in his mouth. Though the girth of the man’s cock stayed the same, it felt different. And the taste, already completely awful, became even worse. As his tongue pushed at the invading mass in his mouth, he noticed the feel was different. The thing in his mouth felt more spongy than it had, less fleshy. The taste, however, was horrible. It was all he could do to keep himself from gagging.
While his mind was more concerned with the bitter, sour tasting thing in his mouth, a submerged thought tried to make its way to the forefront. Which it did, only for a fraction of a second. He thought, It tastes a lot worse than I ever thought it would! Just then he heard the man’s growling turn to groaning. The hand on his head tightened its grip in his hair and the thing began to probe at his mouth with more determination. He could feel stuff in his mouth. It was like there was some sort of pasty, or chalky substance in his mouth. Whatever it was, it tasted worse than anything he could ever remember having in his mouth. He couldn’t fight it any longer. He gagged. Nothing came-up, thankfully, as the man used the opportunity of his open throat, during the gag.
Once again, he couldn’t breathe and he knew that the thing was deeper inside him than it had been before. His tongue was useless, each time he flicked it, it was being tickled? Once engaged, his gagging didn’t stop. And each time his stomach retched and his throat opened as a result, the man shoved it even deeper inside him. His ears detected the change in the man’s primitive vocalizations. First, from growling to groaning. Now, from groaning to grunting. Not only could he hear the grunts, he could feel each one vibrating through the fat piece of flesh pushing deeper and deeper down his gullet.
Everything seemed to happen at once. The man’s cock drove deeper. The horrible taste was gone from his thoughts, replaced by thoughts of where his next breath might come from. The grunting turned to something sounding like a mixture of screaming, bellowing and howling. His eyes were watering again and he could feel sweat pouring from his body. His stomach was heaving, though anything that might have been expelled was blocked by the man’s cock. And each time his stomach did heave, the man screamed-bellowed-howled even louder. He no longer felt his hair being pulled, or tasted the bitterness of the man’s unclean cock. Thoughts of immanent suffocation, of his throat being split by the seemingly-expanding shaft of man-meat stuffed inside, whirled through his mind. He wondered if the doctor, the one like Quincey, who would examine his body, would be able to tell how he died. He wondered what his mother would think, when she heard that her son had died of asphyxiation from having a cock down his throat.
Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. He felt both of the man’s hands gripping his hair and it felt like there was a wet Brillo-pad pushing against his nose. The thing pushed even deeper down his throat and he knew that it was swelling. He could feel it stretching him from the inside-out. He still could not breathe, when all hell broke loose. Everything started to shake and quake. He the noises he heard didn’t sound as though they could have been made by a human. Or if they were coming from a person, it sounded like that person was in terrible pain. Almost at the same time he heard the man’s noises hit a fevered-pitch, he felt the hot, wetness spreading inside him.
His first thought, at feeling the spreading wet heat in his throat, was that the man was peeing. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he tried to get the man’s cock out of his throat. And he almost succeeded. It just so happened that the moment he made his last-ditch effort to unblock his throat, the man, who’d just shot the first wad of his orgasm, relaxed a bit in preparation for the second shot. While he didn’t manage to get the man’s cock completely out of his mouth, he did get enough out of him, so that he could take a breath. And once there was a little air in his lungs, he started to cough. At the same time, the man shot the second wad of cum. The blast filled his mouth. It was then that he realized that the man wasn’t urinating, that it was ejaculate filling his mouth and that had coated his throat.
He tried to breathe-in. He tried to breathe-out. He tried to swallow and he tried to spit. And it seemed as though he tried it all at the exact same time. Everything ended-up exploding in one big, wet gulp-cough. Some of the man’s cum was expelled from his mouth and some was swallowed. And only a bit after, the man fired a third wad into his mouth. Unfortunately, he was inhaling at the time, and he could feel the viscous heat oozing into his windpipe. He coughed that up, just as another wad was deposited between his lips. It tasted bitter and salty. It wasn’t a pleasant taste, but it was better than the first taste he had of the man’s cock. Although he tried to spit-out as much as he could, by pure volume, he was forced to swallow some of it. He could feel the thick goo coating his throat, and somehow he also could feel the man’s cum coating his stomach.
Slowly, everything but the stench in the air seemed to ebb. The intensity of the man’s noises, convulsions, and the amount of spunk he shot into his mouth all subsided. It wasn’t until the man’s cock was pulled completely out of his mouth, that he began to really get control of his body back. He spat-out what he could, swallowed the rest, then filled his lungs with air. Then he was released by the big hands, and he fell to his back on the carpeted floor of the van. Moist as the air was, he got really confused when it started to rain. He knew that they were inside a van, and before he’d been blindfolded, there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky. He knew all of that, yet there was no denying the hot drips he could feel on his skin. If not for the blindfold, he’d have seen the man was hovering over his body, and it wasn’t raining on him, it was drops of the man’s sweat he felt pelting his skin.
As he tried to regain his composure, he felt movement. He was tired and weak and put-up no resistance as the man flipped his half-naked body onto his stomach. Nor did he fight as he felt the man tying something around his wrists. Once his arms were tightly bound, there was more movement. When he heard the van’s engine start-up, he realized that the whooshing sound he heard a second before was the man’s weight settling into the driver’s seat. Then the van began to move. The ride was bumpy at first. When it smoothed-out, he knew that had left the two-track in the woods and was driving on an actual road. He had no idea how much time had passed since he left his house that morning. He figured it had been somewhere around noon when he was seized. And while it seemed as though a whole lifetime could have passed since, he figured that it had been no longer than thirty-minutes.
His mind wandered. Each thought that popped into the front of his mind seemed more important than the last, until the next one popped-up. He was hungry. He was thirsty. He could still taste the bitterness in his mouth. He thought about what had happened to him. He wondered what might happen to him. He thought about his family and wondered if anyone missed him yet. But the thoughts that popped into his consciousness more often than any others, were of who the man was and what he looked like.
The humming of the tires and the gentle rocking of the van lulled him to sleep. After all he’d just been through, it wasn’t a deep sleep. Deep enough, however, to turn his thoughts to dreams.
He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew that it was a month before. And he was standing in the exact same spot he was when he’d been grabbed. He was smoking a cigarette, looking over the river. There was a fisherman a few dozen yards downstream. In a quick flash of lucidity, he recognized the fisherman. About a month before he had been standing on the riverbank, smoking a cigarette, and there had been a man fishing a little ways downstream. That night, and several since, the fisherman was the star of his fantasies. The fisherman walked toward him. Suddenly all his gear (fishing-pole, waders, the baskets and bags hung over his massive shoulders) disappeared, as he approached. As he stepped out of the river, his clothes disappeared. He looked at the man’s naked, bulging, hairy body. Imagining the fisherman naked was something he’d spent a month of nights doing. Since seeing the fisherman, he’d become his favorite fantasy. The naked man had a huge, hard cock and it was pointing right at him. Like a snake, it stared him down with the eye at its tip. While he’d only seen the fisherman from a distance, and never naked, it was like he could clearly see the man’s cock in his dream.
The van lurched to a halt and his dream was gone. However, in that very last moment of the dream, staring at his fantasy-man’s cock (which he saw as un-circumcised), he finally understood all about his tongue poking into his captor’s foreskin. And while he’d only heard about the stuff, he knew that the awful, bitter taste still in his mouth was that of the man’s cock-cheese. The urge to retch hit him once again, but he successfully suppressed it. The engine was killed and he felt movement once again. He heard the door being slid-open and a second later got a breath of fresh-air. A second later, he felt the man grabbing him and lifting him from the floor of the van.
Snuggled like a baby into the man’s body, he was carried through what he assumed (by the slightly dank and musty quality of the air) was a garage. The man shuffled to get both of them through a doorway. The air changed, still a bit dank, but not as musty. He could feel that they were in close quarters, by the sound of the echos, he figured it as a long, narrow hallway. His body was readjusted once more in the man’s arms and they passed through another doorway. The next thing he knew, he was falling. At first, he thought he was dreaming again. In his dreams, sometimes, he would fly (and other times, he’d dream that he was falling) and it really did feel just like this. It didn’t last as long as he’d have liked. And instead of a breath-taking, hard landing, he came down on something soft. A mattress, he was fairly sure. He landed on his back. While he was thankful for the soft landing, his arms were still tied behind him and were becoming uncomfortable.
He could hear the man breathing and a bit of movement, but of what sort he could not be sure. There was a moment of effort, an attempt at making his arms more comfortable, which he realize was futile. There was a click and bright light poured through the cloth blindfold and even through his closed eyes.
“Fucking beautiful,” he heard the man say between breaths. A few seconds later the voice was much closer, “Dirty as a street-urchin, but we’ll take care of that.” A second later he felt and heard his shirt being ripped from his body. Then there was something wet and hot on his face. Then hot air, moist hot air, blasted his face. He knew that the man was licking him and breathing through his open mouth. Once the man had licked (and even kissed) his whole face, he felt the mouth move down his neck, then to his chest.
Once in a while, when he was feeling kind-of kinky (though, not kinky enough to shove a finger up his butt), the fingers of his left hand might fiddle with his nipples. Even coated in spit, his fingers felt nothing like the man’s tongue. When the man started biting his nipples, he cried-out and tried to move his chest away from the man’s face. After chewing on one of his nipples for a while, the man switched to the other. The combinations of wet and hot, rough and smooth, stinging pain and utter bliss, back and forth, three times at each of his nipples, the man’s face moved further down his body. It tickled, as the man licked, nipped and kissed his way down his body. He was surprised at how warm it felt, when the man’s mouth was going at a particular spot. And how cool that same spot of skin, now covered in saliva, became, when the man moved-on.
He had yet another epiphany, as he felt the man’s mouth getting closer and closer to his crotch. A few things hit him at once. He realized that, with a wiggle of his toes, other than his socks, he was naked. As he wiggled his toes, his dick jerked and he realized that it was hard. And as the man’s hot breath washed-over his throbbing boner, he realized that his dick was about to get sucked. He let out a yelp as the man’s tongue slowly caressed the rigid shaft of his dick. Then the tongue was gone. After feeling a huff of hot air deep, between his legs, he felt the man’s tongue on his balls, then up the shaft of his dick. The one place he really wanted to feel the tongue, seemed the only place the man didn’t lick. Each time the tongue lapped over his shaft, the man stopped licking right before touching the head of his dick.
Rough, calloused fingers gripped his balls and he felt a breath under them. Then the tongue, so close to his butthole, that he wondered if the man hadn’t licked it, just a little. Then, with a sigh, his balls were dropped and he could tell that the man’s face was no longer in his crotch. He next felt the man’s mouth on his thigh. The man licked him down one leg stopping only long enough to pull his socks off. He was completely naked now (other than the rope wrapped around his wrists and the ring he wore on his right hand). Another wave of fear went through him, then he felt the man’s mouth close around his big toe. The man spent quite a bit of time, licking and sucking on his feet. While the man was sucking on his toes, something he’d never even considered, his dick throbbed so much that he was surprised he didn’t come. As the mouth worked its way back up his other leg, he wished the man would turn-back and return to his feet. Although, once the man had cleaned his whole frontside, working up his leg, he felt the rough face getting closer, once again, to his crotch.
When the man got there, there was no pretense of licking, nibbling, or kissing. All of the sudden he felt the mouth on his thigh, then it broke contact with his body. A second later, he knew by the heat and wetness, that his dick was in the man’s mouth. The suction was incredible, as the man’s head bobbed up and down, silky wet-warmth surrounding his dick. It seemed that the man was easily able to take his whole dick into his mouth. He could feel something rough brushing through his sparse patch of pubic-hairs (he must have a moustache). Barely over the sensation of wanting to explode, from having his feet licked and sucked, the feeling of his dick in the man’s mouth pushed him over the edge. As he pumped-out another load of cum, he heard the man gulping it down. This time, no hot pool formed on his belly. The man didn’t spill a drop.
Once again, his spent dick became too sensitive to withstand the man’s sucking. He wiggled his hips, as he’d done before, though with his arms tied under him, it wasn’t as easy. Within a few seconds, he felt his dick slip out of the man’s mouth. He relaxed into the mattress, his breath returning, but not there yet. And before he did catch his breath, his body was grabbed and flipped-over. The only advantage to being face-down was that his arms were no longer smashed beneath him. Although, as he felt his legs gently being pried apart, he realized how vulnerable he now was. His hands were in the perfect position to cover his butt. He heard a deep, rumbling chuckle, and his legs continued to be parted. As his ankles were returned to the mattress, he felt his weight shifting. He could feel the man’s weight settling between his spread legs. His arms twisted, hoping to get his hands into a better position to protect his butt.
The first place he felt the touch of the man’s body was on his hands. Then the whole of him was covered by man. The man was laying on top of him. He had to be huge. Again, he twisted his arms, trying to make them comfortable again. And as he did, he realized which part of the man’s body was touching his hands. The most comfortable position for his arms, just happened to put his hands on either side of the shaft of the man’s cock. He tried to keep his hands still, not wanting to add any further stimulation than the man was already feeling. However, as the man’s face brush through his thick hair, he felt his cock start to move back and forth, through his bound hands. It didn’t last long. The man’s hips humped maybe half-a-dozen times, as he felt the back of his head being kissed and his hair being sniffed. Then the pressure of the man on top of him let-up some, and he felt the man’s mouth move down his neck, to his back. He giggled and laughed (he couldn’t help it), when the man lifted his arms and licked out his pits. Once both his armpits were slick with the man’s saliva, he felt the big fingers in his hair again and his head being twisted. Before he knew it, the man was kissing him full-on the lips. He could smell the odor of his own body, on the man’s mouth. And when the man’s tongue shoved its way into his mouth, he could taste his own cum.
After a few minutes kissing, the man started licking, nibbling and kissing down his backside. He felt a wave of relief when the man by-passed his butt, though the action continued down his legs. When he felt the man’s mouth at the back of his knee, he giggled as much as when the man had been licking his armpit. And while it wasn’t as stimulating as when his toes were sucked, feeling the man’s tongue along the souls of his feet did make his dick throb. He never thought about the man’s destination, as he felt the mouth moving-up his second leg. However, when his bound arms were roughly lifted and he felt the man’s stubbly face land on his smooth buttcheeks, his blood turned to ice. At first it hurt, as the man rooted around in his butt. He knew the sand-paper feel on his smooth skin was the man’s whisker-stubble. And when he felt something smooth, hot and wet between his buttcheeks, he knew that it was the man’s tongue. And once the man really started licking and sucking at his butt, he started to enjoy it. Even when he felt the fat finger poking at his hole, his dick still throbbed. However, when the finger pushed its way inside through his anus, his whole body seized in pain and he cried out. The man chuckled and pushed more of the thick, hairy finger inside him. His cries raised in pitch and in volume. The man only chuckled louder, pushing more of his fat finger up his butt.
After the chunky digit had established its presence and wiggled around enough for him to get a sense what it was doing, he actually thought it felt sort-of good. Not unlike when he stuck his own finger inside himself. That the man’s finger was bigger than his own made a big difference at first, but now that he was getting used to it, he actually liked the feeling. When the man’s finger stopped wiggling and pulled-out of his hole, he felt a pang of regret, wishing it back in. He knew the saying, “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.” And get it he did. Only this time, the man shoved two spit-slicked fingers up his butt.
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