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Original Fiction
CONSEQUENCES

Did you ever have a straight guy? It seems quite a topic to discuss. As far as I know, it is almost as popular as for those "straight guys" to ask each other if they had a virgin. I had my "first" straight guy easy enough. He was (i.e., he still is, for all I know) a guard at the bank where I used to work. It was my first working place after graduation and I appreciated it very much. It looked like my employers were if not plain homophobic but in any case considered gays dangerous and disgusting, half personages of slimy jokes, half characters of criminal news. That was the reason why I never strove for coming out of closet - but, surely, people who were not entirely blind could clearly guess - and seemed to guess.

It happened when I had to stay at the office for a while after everybody else had gone. It turned out that me and this guy (Steve, by the way) were the only people in the building. He had to go home soon, too, but his shift mate was late. So, he poured a cup of coffee and came up to me to have a little talk. I was almost over with my business and, actually, Steve had such gorgeous looks that I was only glad to have a chat with him. He was about eight years older than me, 6'2" athletic blonde, trimmed very shortly and with the eyes that seemed sapphire with the right angle of light.

He was very amiable and we had a pleasant conversation for a quarter an hour. In its course he casually mentioned some his friend who was stalked by a queer guy and finally surrendered. He expatiated for a while how disgraceful it all was and how senseless these relations were. I eagerly agreed with him - because it seemed to me what he wanted to hear and I'm prone to tell people what they want to hear. I was not sure if he knew I was gay but I thought he didn't mean anything wrong, it was the ways of that gay guy he condemned.

Eventually his shift came. By this time Steve already found out that I was without car right then and offered me a lift, the more so, as it was his way.

But he was so thorough that brought me right to the porch - though he easily could set me down on the pavement five minutes earlier. His courtesy impressed me so much that I felt I had to do something nice to him. I asked him if he would stop by for a cup of coffee or a beer. I wouldn't say I didn't have a second thought behind it. It sounds strange after his eloquent speeches about "evil queers" but - my question sounded quite innocent. And he was free to say 'I am short of time'. And, in any case, his consent to a cup of coffee didn't imply his willingness to jump into my bed.

"Sure," he said.

We climbed to my apartment and I made us coffee and some really kinky cocktails. It seemed he was pleased. So, we smoked and chatted. We were sitting on the sofa rather close and, as he set his legs wide apart, his knee was pressed quite tightly to mine. I still wondered how much conscious it was. I sought for a means to check it and could think of nothing. Not that I was afraid he would paste me - it was just a point of some decency, that I was afraid to look like a fuckin' faggot in his eyes.

But I was quite aroused even with the possibility. I tried to keep an eye contact with Steve to avoid his accidental looking at my bulge - ugh, his eyes were really startling. And then he, blabbing something, decided to put his glass on the table. The thing was he had to stoop over me to do it. So, he leaned on my lap pressing his belly to the very my place - and I flew up to heaven. It was made in a such deliberate way that I couldn't doubt any more.

When he sat straight again, I reached for his arms and touched them lightly. I still was afraid to scare him, so, I patted him a little. He didn't mind. I took his face in my palms feeling his rough day stubble through the smoothness of his tanned skin. I was going to kiss his lovely mouth when he said:

"Let's turn the light off."

I stood up and went to the switch. On my halfway back he met me in the darkness. He hugged me rather awkwardly. I pressed my basket to his hard-as-rock rod. He kind of slid his lips on my cheek and whispered to my ear:

"Take off your clothes."

I knew he had to feel curious, maybe, about another man's body in this situation, so, I did what he said dropping my tie, shirt, pants and underwear around me. He took off his shirt, too, and unzipped his trousers. He stopped there and I thought it wouldn't harm to relax him a little. I tried to touch his scrotum but he drew my hand aside. Instead he ran his hands over my shoulders and then took hold of my nipples. He pinched them hard and twisted them - and I gasped in excitement. His fingers were rather rough and this sensation continued to send pain-pleasure waves through my body. I reached for his chest as well - but he didn't let me do it. He put one his palm on my head and pressed me down while his other hand released his cock from the jockeys.

I glided down to my knees and took his piercing dick into my mouth right through to his balls. His cock was about 7" long and uncut and I slowly slid along it, pressing my lips tightly to move his skin a little along the rod. He groaned clenching my head firmly between his hands. I sucked him, then backed a little and flickered my tongue into his pisshole. I felt a salty residual of his piss and licked around his foreskin.

"Yes, yes," he hissed, "open it!"

I was glad to do my best with. He moaned and growled and pressed my head to his crotch to the point. I took him in all through to my throat and I would take his resilient balls covered with soft fair hair in, too, if I could. I was sure his girl-friend or wife (yes, he was married) never gave him such good deep-throat - if any. He was in heaven. He bumped me hard, with his fingers plaited into my hair, kind of pulling me onto his dick and yanking back.

I thought he would come soon - but he didn't. Actually, after some time his motions got a steady rhythm. Then he abruptly yanked his cock out from my mouth and pulled me upwards. When I stood up, he turned me back to him. His searching hand moved along my crack. I bowed and set my hands upon the table to make it easier for him to get in. He looked for my hole for a while and I giggled. Oh, well, it was a wicked thing to do, to laugh at a straight guy on his first gay "date". But worse thing was that he didn't giggle back. He shook me quite violently instead. I stuck my ass up into the air to make it more convenient for him. He found the aim and shot right home to his balls. Oh, man! Does he fuck his girl/wife in the same manner? I thought if his cock hadn't been soaked in my spat it would have been much worse for me.

"Oh, yes!" he breathed out. "Take it all, faggot!"

Actually, I didn't find it very alluring: this guy was in my ass and I was a faggot! But I preferred not to make a fuss out of it. Much worse was the way he pumped me. Whether the angle was wrong or he just thrust too roughly - but I was in a bad pain. First it looked like he pulled his cock all the way out from my hole and then slammed it again in one blow. And after that he started these swift jerking motions that felt as if he was sawing inside me.

I lost my erection. Steve didn't notice it - or rather, he didn't care. He stuck his fingers in my shoulders and moved me to the floor on my fours. Ughh! It was even worse. His dick was as sharp in my hole as if he pierced me with a red-hot rod. Actually, it was so bad that I even couldn't squeeze my rectum's walls to make him cum faster - and he was obviously from these long-fuckers who could save their cum till doomsday.

I made a little whimper and tried to walk away from him on my hands and knees. Well, he knew better. He caught me by my waist and buried his cock even deeper.

"You like my dick, sluthole," he said breathlessly, "tell me how you like it!"

I only whined a little. I thought, of course, I could cry blue murder and so make him get out off me but - it was me who initiated it. So, I decided to take it like a man as long as I could.

For the last session he turned me on my back and pushed my legs up to my head. The only thing that helped me to go through it was that he already was not for long. He grunted increasing the speed to beyond limits and then yanked his cock out of me and shot his semen on my chest. Oh, fuck! I don't mind a good cum to my mouth or to my ass - but some people mess about it too much. So, Steve fertilized me with his semen, rubbed it in my nipples and lay down near to me, clearly exhausted.

I reached for my cigarettes and he said:

"Light one for me!"

He was in absolutely high spirits, stretched himself on the carpet and slightly stroked my croup with his fingers.

We spoke again a little, he said he wanted to find out how it's with a man for a long time and that he liked it a lot. He didn't say anything about his own ass fucked - it looked like this idea even didn't strike him. When speaking, he was simply another personality - affable and friendly - and I started feeling squeamish for my resentment during the act.

In a while we took our showers and he started home. At the door he lingered and said to me:

"I really liked it. Will we go on with it?"

"Sure," I said. How could I say anything else to his face - at heart, however, my answer was "Never in the world".

He left me with finger-shaped bruises on my shoulders, kind of strain in my crotch and very, very sore ass hole. And I felt like I was really fucked, not made sex with a guy. A certain consolation for me could be the thought that this guy was straight before - but some people would doubt if I really turned him out, 'cause I never penetrated his ass. Anyway, I felt like a sheer idiot and I didn't like it.

* * *

I decided to see this encounter as one more one-night stand and took as much experience out of it as I could. Actually, I even wondered if Steve would shun me and this thought upset me a little - I didn't want any kind of bad terms at my work.

At first, however, it seemed okay and even better. Steve greeted me as always, in his warm cheerful manner and gave me a word or two occasionally - just like before. It looked like nothing happened and I thought if he preferred to forget it, then I would sign it, too.

It was in the middle of the day - I went to the lavatory and, when I was over, I met Steve at the sinks. He smiled to me pleasantly. I smiled to him back. There was nobody in the room - and then he suddenly grasped me around my waist and dipped his hand into my pants. I froze up - meanwhile he got into my jockeys and stuck his two fingers into my ass. I was so shocked that I didn't know what to do. I tried to set free from him but, not to mention that he hooked me with his fingers in my anus, he also clasped me tightly in his arm.

"Here, here, what a warm shitty hole," he whispered in my ear intimately at the same time rubbing his cock against my ass cheek. "Do you feel it, faggot?"

"Yes, I do," I said in a reasonable voice, "and stop it, Steve, somebody can come in!"

I thought at least his wits would make him stop risking. He could lose much more than me - he had his wife and what it would be if anyone caught us in this position! But he was, probably, one from those who liked to risk.

"You like it, right?" he continued to whisper in his husky low voice. "When shall we meet again?"

"I don't know," I started, "I have really a lot to do..."

"Today," he said simply. "I'll pick you up after the work."

I returned to my table thinking if I looked like a man who was just flushed to the toilet. I didn't have any intention to meet Steve after the work, so, I tried to slip away a bit before time. And look who I saw at the doorway, smiling and winking to me?!

I thought only: I have to say 'I don't want to have anything with you, Steve. It was nice but it is over.' And then I couldn't say it. I didn't have face to say it. He was smiling to me, all so happy that he caught me, so looking forward to our encounter...

Name me a fool.

So, we went to his car. Meanwhile I invented some story about my own apartment, that I had a cousin living with me for a while. I hoped Steve would change his mind. But no, he started and in no time at all we were already out of town. He drove down from the road and parked somewhere behind the trees. It seemed he knew the place pretty well, probably, brought his girls here a lot of times.

Without wasting time he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It was half-hard. He played with it, stroked it, as if demonstrating me his man meat.

"C'mon," he said. "Show HIM how you love him!"

I licked my lips and slid down along his rod. He was in clear pleasure while I bobbed my head on his dick. His left hand pressed the back of my head trying to make me take it deeper.

With his right hand he fingered my ass. I was pretty turned on with the sensation, he added finger to finger into it - and then he said casually:

"They are right that you faggots can let pass a train there. I never saw so loose as yours."

I gagged with his cock for the first time. He sounded like it was his general occupation - to stick his finger into a men's asses. I wanted to say something but then, anyway, he was cumming. I swallowed his load quickly, licked his foreskin a couple of times to clean it and sat straight.

"Did you feel it?" he asked with incredible pride. "I saved it for you, my faggot, my wife didn't have it at all these days!"

"Poor wife" I said.

For the first time he looked at me with suspicion.

"Do you try to play smart with me?" he asked. I suddenly remembered how he shook me when I chuckled at him that first day and I said carefully:

"No, that's okay, never mind."

He took his limp prick away and we drove back to the town.

* * *

It turned out to be the beginning. I know it sounds stupid: he didn't own me, he even was not my boss - but still I didn't have the guts to break loose from him. Every time after our encounter I repeated to myself: "You'll say to him you don't want him any more." And I never said it.

Every time it was as bad as the first, well, in my mouth better than in my ass, and I started feeling a real distaste to him. The bad thing was that he was so very amiable and cheery when at the bank - and I even found it difficult to respond to him with the same. The good thing was (or, maybe, it was bad, too, because if otherwise, I probably would find the strength to part with him) that there were the whole series of the days when he didn't approach me. And, when I managed to regroup after a session I started feeling soothed and hoped there wouldn't be any more.

In these months I, actually, had several one-nights stands apart from Steve. They were really one-night stands, usual for me. I do have the problem in building permanent relations with people. I like to flirt, to lure people into my bed and into my life but, you see, I lose my interest in them in no time at all. I think that probably if I had had a steady lover that time, I would have tried to break with Steve for real.

I said I "would" because I was not at all sure that even if I did make my mind Steve would let me go. Somehow it seemed better for me to feel like a well-fucked whore than to wind up with broken nose. Steve, I was sure, was up to it (though it was the worst perspective that came to my mind).

Well, I was wrong. But when it happened, it didn't have any matter in the end. Later I thought that, maybe, Steve felt even this my hidden resistance and it angered him beyond limits. Anyway, when it occurred I didn't have a premonition. It just came.

I was at my place at the bank when this guy in his expensive-like-hell suit approached me. He wanted some information about long-term credits and I gave it to him with usual attention. Nothing happened there, just nothing! He was handsome, yes, suave - but I never jumped at our clients, in no way, I valued my work too much!

So, we had our conversation, shook hands and parted, probably, forever, if he was not going to have business with our bank further.

I didn't have a "date" with Steve today, so, I left the bank with light heart. And then I saw Steve's car at the pavement and he hopped out and started dragging me to it. I was astonished to dumbness. Everybody could saw us - we were in clench - really two faggots quarrelling! So, I decided to get into his "Ford" myself. As soon as I did it he locked the doors and started.

"Oh, great, Steve," I began. "You actually..."

"Shut your fuckin' faggot mouth up!" he shouted at me with his face distorted. I never saw him so angry - but I really didn't feel any fault of mine, so, I tried to distract him and said:

"You'd better look in front of you - or we'll lay ourselves out in no time."

It was wrong - he suddenly thrust his elbow against my ribs. Hell I could swear they cracked! I was breathless - and pretty scared/startled, by the way. Then I suddenly decided that I had enough. He braked at the street-light and I pounced on the door-lock trying to open it. He reached for my hair, grabbed me, threw me face down on his lap and started punching me with his fist on my head and shoulders. Did I say he was 6" taller than me and about 80 pounds heavier? (No more big guys in my bed!) So, when he started this "real thing" I understood I had all the chances to be beaten up right here. So, I stopped fighting and started shouting:

"Don't, don't do it, do you want to kill me?!"

It seemed to work. He stopped his punching but didn't release my head. That way I lay on his lap while he drove the car. He was breathing heavily above me.

I had a little time to think what I got in - but I didn't have any idea of why it happened and what would be next.

We stopped at the building I never saw before. Actually, I decided that he eventually found a place for us to have our fucks (I did my best not to have him at my place). But when we came up to the third floor and entered the flat, I found out somebody already lived there. It was pretty dirty, with a stale unpleasant smell.

Steve dragged me in and pushed to the sofa.

As he stayed away from me, I returned a little of my self-control. I pulled out my cigarettes.

"Steve, what do you think you are doing?" I addressed him in a doctor-to-patient voice. "We can't build our relations on this basis..."

Meanwhile I lit one cigarette for me and one for him - and as I offered it to him, he suddenly grasped my hand, twisted it and crushed the cigarette in my palm. I screamed for real and he slapped my face with such force that I fell on the sofa.

The pain of the burnt was indescribable. But much more I was dumbfounded with what he was doing. It was Steve - my lover for almost six months! I mean I could imagine such things happening when I was going to some place with some guy I picked at the bar - but not a man I knew so well! How could he consciously hurt me? That meant, obviously, that I still thought he hurt me unconsciously when fucking me... And for nothing! I simply couldn't figure how I wronged him.

"You cock-hungry sluttish bitch!" he hissed to me almost spitting. "Don't you think I saw how happy you were not to have me today! I know what for, I know! My cock is not enough for you, you're starving for one more?! Then you'll have it! But you'll have it my way and not from a fuckin' pussy freak who could bring AIDS to me and my wife!"

And then the door opened and I saw another guy coming in. He was slightly shorter that my Steve but heavier in built, with short darkish hair. He looked at me about half a minute while digging in his mouth with a tooth-stick and then said:

"Is it your faggot you are fucking, Stevie?"

If I only had kept my big mouth shut!..

"Is it your friend who was going with a queer, Stevie?" I asked.

Wham! I got the best slap on my face I ever got. If I were a maso, I would probably cum myself from head to toes. But it only brought ringing to my ears.

"Is he going to scream, Stevie?" the guy said. "I don't want any troubles with my neighbors."

"If he is going to scream, I'll tear his fuckin' head off," Steve said, looking at me maliciously. I regarded the possibilities to start screaming right now or to go along with them.

"I'll better turn TV on," the guy said. It was MTV channel.

"Let's strip him," Steve said. I tried to ask them to let me do it myself - but they didn't pay the least attention to my words as long as I didn't make much noise and pretty quickly peeled me from my clothes.

Soon I was on my knees and Steve said to his friend:

"You take his mouth, I'll take his ass at first, huh?"

"Okay," the guy said. He looked puzzled but pulled out his cock and pushed it to my lips. He had a half-hard-on and thrust it into my mouth pretty quickly to hide it from Steve, probably.

"Suck my dick, bitch!" he proclaimed.

I thought I would puke. He was dirty, this guy, I don't mean dirty like a beggar, but he didn't like to wash himself, it was obvious. His crotch smelled revoltingly and I got in mind how much times he pissed from his last washing. But, actually, I had bigger troubles than his dirty cock.

Steve walked behind me and drove his cock into my ass in his usual manner. I can stand it, I thought, I could before and I can now. I squinted my eyes shut not to see the guy in front of me - I really had enough of him in my mouth. It seemed, however, that he was quite impressed with my blow-job abilities and he shoved and jabbed his hard cock into my throat with all his strength. Soon enough they found a cadence in their movements and every Steve's thrust threw me forward to his friend's cock down to my throat.

It was all pretty bad - but above all I tried to take my mind off of the implication of what happened. Steve is my lover, I made myself think, it is his friend. It's simply "menage a troi", they are just getting it a little rough.

Actually I was in bed with two guys once but I never was taken from both ends.

The guy in my mouth was close to cum. He groaned, all his body tensed and stretched, his thrusts became violent and he breathed out through his teeth:

"You whore, you shit, get it, get it!"

Then he shot his sperm right into my throat. I even didn't have to swallow it - the thing I did have to do was to keep it inside me. I had some vague idea he wouldn't be glad if I threw it up.

"Good," he drawled, wiping his cock on my lips, "God, it was good!"

I heard Steve laughed a little behind my back. Suddenly he yanked out from my hole, came around me and I saw his pretty smeared dick in front of my face. What a son of bitch he was! I remembered he already tried to do this thing to me before - but I explained him, if he lacked brains himself, that nobody used to do it - push the cock to the mouth after the ass. And now he was stuffing it into my mouth with a nasty smile. Well, I took it as a good boy.

He used my hair to amplify the thrusting. I counted moments how long it could last. He was long, of course, I thought, but it will be over. Everything is over. Finally he started the movements that made me think he was close. But when he was really cumming, he didn't do it to my mouth. Instead he pulled his cock out and drained onto my hair. I felt his sperm dripping on my forehead.

"He loves my man juice!" Steve informed his friend.

I felt mortified. So bad that I couldn't even find a thought that could be consoling for me. They laughed at me a little, set up for wit. I curled up on the floor, like a hedge-hog, with my knees up to my chest. Did they get everything they wanted? I prayed they intended to let me go home.

But they didn't. Very soon they kneeled down next to me and unfolded me by force. They made me lie flat on my back and Steve started exhibiting my body to his friend. It seemed the guy was puzzled about how I was made - as if I was some strange being, far from human. They shifted and turned me like I was a toy.

"Look what funny balls he has," Steve went on commenting. "Look he is cut. Look at his tits. He is crazy about his tits touched, just becomes a hungry lust pissant when I play with them."

"True?" the guy asked. They set to pinch and twist my nipples, pulled them and stuck their fingernails in. Sure, it didn't make me response. It made me moan.

"Shut up! Shut your fuckin' mouth!" Steve backhanded me a couple of times. Then they decided better. They took my jockeys and pushed them into my mouth. Now I could scream my head off - with the gag and TV on nobody would ever hear.

While Steve proceeded with my tits, Kenny (I don't remember how but I came to know it was the guy's name) went to my balls. It seemed they fascinated him. He started squeezing them and got a nice series of muffled moans from me. He pinched them and tapped them, and clasped in his palm and I was simply mad with pain. I couldn't understand how he could do it - he was a man himself, he had to know how it hurt!

They finished with both my tits split to bleeding and I thought my balls burst out, too. My face was wet-washed with tears.

They took a little rest. Till now I started wondering if they were going to kill me. But there was nothing I could do - with my mouth gagged I couldn't even try to persuade them into changing their mind.

They smoked and shook off the ash on me. Thanks God, they didn't stub their cigarettes on me - any more, because this nasty burnt on my palm was still bleeding.

In a while Steve said to Kenny:

"Well, do you want his ass now?"

"Yeah, I would like," the guy nodded.

"I'll help you," Steve promised.

So, he kneeled beside my head and, when Kenny pushed my legs upwards, took my ankles and brought them over my head. It left my hole completely exposed and in an extremely fuckable position. So, Kenny set his cock to it and went it.

My insides were pretty raw after Steve - but I tried to set my mind to bear it. I didn't have any choice anyway. Suddenly it went hot and wet. I cried through my gag, thrashing desperately - but it only made them laugh. Steve held both my ankles with one his hand and, meanwhile, beat his meat off with his other hand. His pre-cum was steady dripping on my face.

When Kenny yanked out of my ass and cummed to my crotch, Steve swiftly turned me to my fours and took his place. With my peripheral sight I saw Kenny looking at his pretty blooded limp dick and taking my shirt to wipe it. And then I stopped seeing anything with blinding pain when Steve buffeted into me.

I sank to my elbows, my hands were just too weak - but he shook me savagely back to the previous position and went on with his business. Then, bowing over me, he started biting my neck and shoulders. Well, he tried to do it before and sometimes left his teeth traces on me but, as I understood, then he was tentative to go as far as he wanted. Now he didn't feel embarrassed. I felt my blood dripping from the bites and leaking in thin jets on my chest and back.

Eventually he cummed. As soon as he set me free I collapsed on the floor in half-swoon. I didn't think already they would ever leave me alone.

But they seemed to have some plan about me because they didn't start discussing it. They sat on the sofa for a while, with their eyes stuck to TV screen. Then they smoothed their clothes, came to me and pulled me up. This guy, Kenny, brought an old raincoat from somewhere and they wrapped me in it. Soon I understood they needed it to bring me to the car. As soon as we were in it, they plucked it from me and pushed me naked on the back seat.

It was dark already, though I didn't think it was past midnight. They took their places on the front seats and started.

I tried to figure out where we were going. That it was not to my place, I was sure. As soon as we turned out to be out of town I got scared to shit. They were going to dig me in somewhere! I tried to get rid of my gag so that I could speak to them. I wanted to say I was not going to go to the police. Steve saw my maneuvers in the mirror.

"I'll stop the car right here and turn you inside out like a glove," he said menacingly. I thought what the hell anyway - but suddenly Kenny displayed surprising empathy and said:

"We are not going to kill you, calm down."

I didn't know if I believed him but I just gave up.

It looked like we made about thirty miles from the town before they turned deep to the forest. They stopped the car here, dragged me out and tugged with them even deeper to the woods. By this time I lost my composure again. What were they taking me here for - if not for killing?! I stumbled and squatted and buckled on the ground, screaming through the gag - but they dragged me nevertheless.

At last they found their place and dropped me here. Kenny took out a skein of rope. They tied my wrists together, then pulled me a little up and tied the rope to the branch of a tree. I was not really hanging, it was rather that I stood on my tiptoes with my body stretched up to the maximum.

"Wait for us here, shitty hole," Steve said slapping my ass cheek. "We'll be back."

* * *

First moment when they were leaving I felt an enormous relief. They didn't kill me - and they well could. But already a moment later I suddenly understood that they were going to leave me here tied up as a bulk on a hook. I cried as I could, pronouncing the words as clearly as it was possible with the gag - I prayed, I pleaded them to return, I was going to suck them, to be the best fuckee they could imagine - only so that they didn't leave me here!

I heard them laughing - and their voices trailed away. Then I heard the engine of the car - and they were gone.

I was there, dancing on my tiptoes, with the rope cutting my wrists - and completely alone in the darkness.

I think I would get along with my position and just hang there waiting if they really were going to return. But my wrists hurt immensely - and it made my mind clear. I tried to free myself.

Naturally, first of all I went to it bluntly. I just tugged and pulled my hands desperately, skinning my hands and straining my muscles. Of course, I didn't get much results if not to count for a result a lot of pain I endured.

Then I decided to stop this silly thrashing and work carefully. I moved one my hand, then the other, trying to figure if one of them was more prone to get free. Then I set to pulling it down and screwing it from the rope loop.

It seemed it went on forever. The only reason I continued with it was that the pain shunned all my other thoughts - and it was good. Finally it was rain that decided the thing. Their rope got wet sloppy - and I managed to take out one my hand. With the other it was a pleasure, not a job.

I dropped down to my knees the same moment when there was nothing to support me. I was exhausted to the point, every my limb hurt - and other things were bad, too. But I knew if I just lay there as I longed to do - I would die sooner than I could imagine. And what then all my efforts for?

So, if I wanted to live, I had to do something to get from there. The most outrageous thing was that I didn't have a bit of clothes on me. I pulled out my gag-jockeys from my mouth. Ugh, well, they didn't look like just from laundry - but, well, it could be socks, after all.

I put them on - I had a strange idea it would help me stop looking like a maniac-exhibitionist. Though there were no many people in the forest to exhibit myself to.

As the thought of people got into my mind, I felt really bad. I was still half-naked, in thirty or forty miles from the town - and there was no any chance for me to get home without being noticed by anyone.

The idea of people seeing me in this position was totally humiliating. Well, I could try to hide what they did to me inside - but how could I hide their fuckin' sperm in my hair, my bleeding nipples and the traces of teeth of my neck and shoulders!

I felt like crying. I was almost ready to sit here like an obedient boy and wait for mercy from Steve and Kenny - but again - IF they were going to come back.

After some time I managed to make my mind. I was going to get out of here - and I would do it step by step. Right now I had to get to the road. And then I would just go on foot back to the town. If somebody saw me - then it would be.

I had an approximate idea where they brought me from, so, I walked to that place. My eyes already got used to the dark enough to see the traces of the car's wheels in soaking dirt. I went along these traces until I came to the road.

Before I was here I found other things to worry about. My bare feet were pricked all over with twigs and needles on the ground - and it was very cold. Actually, it was so cold that I stopped feeling my feet from the ankles down soon enough. The rain was covering me with a film of water but I tried to abstract from it. I just went on.

On the road I turned right. I had a vague notion that we crossed the road when going to the woods. I didn't know how much I would pass - but I decided to do as much as I could.

God, it was so cold! I never even imagined it could be so cold. It was so cold that I knew - if it was a little colder, I wouldn't feel it any more.

I walked and I walked. The road was absolutely empty, from one end to the other - and I didn't know if I should be glad with it or not. I lost the traces of all my thoughts - I only moved my feet step by step, thinking how good it would be to fall down there and pass out.

I was in a kind of haze - that's why I didn't notice the car at once. When I was caught in the beams of its head-lights it was too late to do anything. I turned around.

Oh, well, if I thought it could be Steve and Kenny (it couldn't be them, of course, because the car was behind me) or a jeep full of merry punks with strange ideas of fun, I would probably take to my heels to the wood. But it was a big gorgeous car, a "Cadillac" apparently, all new and shiny - and I thought somehow that the guy who drove such a car couldn't be fuckin' bad maniac to do something wrong to me.

The car braked just so that it's back-seat window leveled me. The glass slid down and I saw a puffy face of some gray-haired old guy.

"Do you need a lift, boy-o?" he asked in an almost incomprehensible drawl.

I thought a little and nodded. The door opened to me and I got inside.

* * *

It was light in the salon - and for a moment I squinted. And then I looked at my savior. Oh, God! This was a big sturdy guy well after forty - and he was clad in a complete cowboy costume, with cowboy sharp-nosed boots, fringed jack-coat and a hat lying on his lap neatly!

A psycho! I was in the car with a psycho! I think I whined a little and tried to shrink back. He looked at me with a kind of concern and said:

"We'll start, if you don't mind. It's getting late."

I grew flabby on the seat when the car started.

As the car speeded up, the guy took off his cowboy jack and wrapped it around me. It was big, and smelly, and heavy - and I curled in it thankfully, trying to cover as much of my body as I could. Only my feet were bare and still numb. I started raising them up and then remembered about the upholstery of the seats.

It seemed the old guy noticed.

"It's okay," he said in his deep harsh voice. "Just shake them off."

When all under the jack I suddenly started trembling. There were bad pangs in my fingers - and I could only imagine what would be with my feet when they started warming up.

The guy shook his head looking at me. Then he reached somewhere to the back of the seat, opened the bar and took out a glass and a bottle of cognac. He poured a fair amount of it and gave the glass to me.

"You need it, boy-o," he said, "don't you?"

I gulped it in one swallow. Ughh! It was so hot inside me! He watched me with a kind of smile - I hoped it was not a wrong smile. He splashed some more into my glass - and I drank it, too. Very soon alcohol filled all my body. I felt it leaking in my veins and warming me thoroughly. It was good and almost painful, and I resigned to it.

I saw a box of cigarettes in his bar. I knew it was ill behavior but I really needed one. I asked him and he said:

"Sure. Help yourself."

As I partly expected the cigarettes were self-stuffed, delicious, with fine blend of peach and pina colada. I couldn't resist it. I relaxed.

"Well, boy-o," the guy said eventually. "What did they do to you?"

I looked at him. He could be dressed in any way but his heavy face seemed rather benign than nasty - and there was some concern flickering in his small eyes.

I thought he deserved my story at least for what he did for me. So, I started telling. At first I was going to confine myself to a sketch account of what happened - but filled with the alcohol and pretty distressed I wound up describing him everything from the beginning to the end in blow-by-blow details.

He listened without losing a word, his eyes startled - and he put in from time to time:

"Ooh, Holy Mother! Ooh, Jesus, sweet Jesus! Ooooh, God Almighty!"

I never heard anyone to swear this way before.

When I finished he turned to me and said:

"Tell me the names of these bastards and they'll have their brains turned to scramble eggs!"

I smiled politely.

Then he went on with a strange expression in his eyes:

"But didn't you tell me you lived in V...?"

"Yeah," I said, "and if you just bring me home I'll never forget it."

"But we are going to N..." he said.

I looked at him for a moment with disbelief - and then it became clear to me. I just walked to the wrong direction! Then I mixed up if we had crossed the road or not - and now I was going farther and farther from my home at fair speed 65 miles per hour.

Now it was really too much for me. I suddenly felt my eyes full of tears - and I started crying right here, in front of this guy, sobbing and sniffing. I was deadly ashamed of what a pissant I was! But I couldn't stop.

"Oh," the guy said compassionately. "Don't! Really, there is no point! You'll sleep the night at my place - and tomorrow morning we'll decide what to do."

* * *

His place was a huge two-storied house surrounded by a fair garden. The car drove into the basement garage and stopped there. We took the elevator up.

"I think you do need a hot shower," the old cowboy guy said. I couldn't agree more eagerly. So, he showed me into the bathroom, as spacious and beautifully decorated as everything else there.

I slipped in and tried to lock the door behind myself. He prevented me from doing it by pushing his large leg in the doorway and saying:

"You'd better no. If you black out in the tube I want to give you a hand."

He left. I took off my throughout wet jockey and got into the bath. Ooh, fuck! It was good! The water made me so warm. I hastily started washing myself. I soaped myself once, then once more - I couldn't get enough, I still seemed dirty. I rubbed my hair from the traces of their sticky sperm - I hated it, I hated it so much, I didn't want anything from them left on me! I found out I was sobbing uncontrollably.

It took a while before I stopped polishing myself with a wisp of bast. Then I just stood straight under the shower and caught the jets falling on my face.

It was then I felt somebody's gaze at me. I froze up but didn't turn around. There was a mirror on the wall - and though it grew misted I figured out a big silhouette behind the half-opened door.

It was my cowboy, of course. He was not in his cowboy garment any more. He seemed to take a shower, too, and now he stood in pajamas and a silken long robe. And he watched me.

I knew what it meant. Was it my mistake that I told too much to him? If I had said they just robbed me... Anyway, it was too late. I knew I had to go through it. And I would go through.

I didn't stir - and the guy stood the same stock-still at the doorway. It lasted for a while. Then I felt too tired and stepped out of the tube.

He came in. His manner was business-like, he took the towel from the heater and wrapped me into it - rough and warm. His large hands wiped me dry on it carefully.

When he finished, he took a bottle of spirit-smelling medicine from his pocket and said:

"Let's give you some disinfecting."

I hissed through my teeth while he applied this liquid on my scratches and bites. But, I think, the cognac I was pretty full with still worked as anaesthetic, so, it was not half as painful as it could be.

When it was over he all of a sudden kissed my forehead and said:

"You are a brave dainty thing, aren't you?"

With my private parts covered with the towel I felt a lot better, so, I smiled to him.

"How old are you?" he asked. I said. "You look younger," he summarized, "I thought you're not twenty yet."

I didn't comment. He gave me a robe - an exquisite silky embroidered thing, heavy and more than ankle-long. It felt so pleasant to my skin; the only problem was that, you see, there was no sash - and a sash supposed to be there. Nevertheless, I wrapped myself into it and crossed arms on my chest to fix it.

"No," the guy said suddenly. In a slow but firm motion he removed my hands and placed them to my sides. He didn't exactly hold me - but he was close enough to do it any moment. Then he neatly unwrapped the towel from my waist.

I felt dizzy. I am not an exhibitionist - but I usually don't mind to be naked. It was my state - I badly needed to cover myself, as if it was a kind of shelter. The only thing I could manage was not to start weeping again. Okay, okay! This guy helped me, he took me from the fuckin' road, got me warm and safe - didn't he have right to recompense?!

But I still couldn't shun this sick feeling.

"Let's go," he tapped my shoulder and guided me from here. "What is your name?"

"Joe," I answered.

"Little Joe," he specified. "And do you know how to name me?"

"Mr. Ranchero?" I said sullenly.

"Huh?" he looked puzzled, then chuckled a little. "No. Just call me Mr. Brown."

Pushing me with his thick fingers, he led me to the bedroom. When I saw it I gasped. My God! It had a four-poster bed in the center! A four-poster bed! The only one before I saw was in the museum (not to mention those I read about in sex stories). But then (very soon) my grim nervousness returned. I stumbled at the doorway. Mr. Brown - or who he was, I didn't want to know - tapped my shoulder a little more persistently. Every my muscle was tensed and aching.

"March to bed," he said with a trace of menace in his voice. "I'll hang you by your ankles if you don't. And by your balls - and I'll see that it will be more by your balls than by your ankles."

I glanced at him. His face had the strangest expression that made me guess whether it was his turn to joke or he really motivated me. I perched on the bed and he walked around and jumped to it from the other side. Leaning to me, he carefully covered my legs to the knees with a quilt.

I waited for him to start the thing.

Instead of it he rested upon his elbow beside me and looked at me steadily. His big warm hand suddenly lay down to my face, patting my cheek slightly. His choppy palm felt like a paw of a big intelligent animal. He passed his hand over my face and lowered my lids with it. I shut my eyes submissively and sensed his fingers probing my brows and lashes. He was kind of studying me with by touch, the way blind people do it. My cheek-bones, my forehead, my lips. Then he moved down, to my chest and belly. It felt like a warm piece of meat slapping me tenderly.

He was not hurting me. And after a while I started thinking that he was not going to fuck me right now, too. I was tipsy with the cognac - and exhausted - and I just fell asleep.

* * *

I woke up because somebody was spreading something upon my lips. I backed away and opened my eyes. It was a daylight. There was this man, Brown, sitting on my side of the bed and he kept his thick finger right near to my face.

"C'mon, little Joe," he said wrinkling slightly at my startled expression. "It's just honey! What will you have your toast with - honey or orange jam?"

"Orange jam," I answered mechanically.

The toasts were tasty, and coffee, and a cigarette - and I started already enjoying the life. Brown shared breakfast with me, chatting about some minor things.

"Are you an actor?" I asked in a while. He almost choked with laugh.

"No! I just like it! You know, I have many strange things here, just be ready to see them."

When we finished he pushed the cart to the door - and in a moment a servant took it and disappeared. I was sure he had to gape at me - but he didn't even vouchsafed me a glance. Actually, he had the straightest face I ever saw; it could be compared only with the face of the "Cadillac" driver the night before.

"And now, little Joe," Brown said, "do you feel like playing?"

Oh, no! No! My heart sank. I knew I had to. Let him take his payment and then give me clothes and some money to get home. I shouldn't be such a thankless pig! But when I lay flat on the bed, my body was absolutely rigid.

"No, Joe," Mr. Brown cooed, "lovely creature, not this way. Give me your robe, you don't need it, do you, it isn't cold here?"

I took it off abruptly. Just let it happen, I repeated to myself. It would be twenty minutes at worst.

He didn't reached his hands for me - just looked at me, from up to down - and then stopped his look on my crotch that I desperately tried to hide with my knees.

"Get an erection," he said suddenly. I quickly answered:

"We don't cook it by request."

It made him giggle.

"Oh, well," he went on, "but you'd better do it by request. C'mon, Joe, show me where your hot spots are!"

Suddenly he grasped me by my arms and pulled to himself.

"Here?" his big choppy hands patted my nipples. "Or here?" he moved down and rubbed the bottom of my belly. "Or here?" his thick but careful finger teased my neck under my ear. "Or, maybe, here?"

In one motion he flipped me over and lay down to his lap. His hand stroked my ass tenderly. Well, it was really my hottest spot - and he got an immediate response from me.

"Yeah, darling?" he asked laughingly. "You do like it? And what about this?" he spanked me with open palm.

"Do you like your tea hot or boiling?" I asked him swiftly. He laughed again.

"Okay, okay," he ran his fingers over my ass. "I won't do it. Only if I want to punish you."

It was again that I didn't know how seriously to take him. But his hands were really good. I couldn't do anything against the pleasure I felt. It mounted and mounted and I swam in it. Then his forefinger brushed my crack and made a circle around my hole. He was careful, very gentle - that is why I didn't tense so much as I could. With the tip of his finger he wagged around my sphincter, probing it and withdrawing again. At last he poked it there - I flinched greatly - but when he was already in, it became good. Well, if he had pulled it out and pushed it in again, it would have been terrible - I don't know how much abraded I was inside. But he just left it there, kind of rocking it - and it was good, to feel his thick finger filling my ass. At the same time his thumb and other fingers went on caressing my bottom. I got really cat-horny. I tried to rub my cock upon his pajama knees and he giggled a little.

And then I suddenly pressed my side to the rod that was stiffening right upwards between his thighs. Oh, fuck! I backed so quickly that his finger yanked from my hole with a pop. I crawled on my fours to the edge of the bed and flattened myself to the wall. He would have to do it in a really bad way if he wanted!

"What is it, Joe?" he looked at me in surprise and seemingly harmlessly.

"You..." I tried to verbalize it. "You are not going to shove this thing into me, huh?"

"Why?" suddenly he looked like a small boy whose feelings were hurt. He pulled his pajama pants down and took his thing to the light. Yes, it was as bad as I felt I and even worse. Not that it was enormously long - but it was thick-thick-thick - and my insides turned somersaults when I thought what it could do to me.

Mr. Brown sat nursing his big cock and looked at it with a kind of compassion.

"It's too big," I hissed, still on the verge of hysterics. "I am hurt inside! If you insert it... you can insert it but if you start moving..."

"And if I put a lot-lot of jelly on it?" he said with a sly smile.

"No! No-no-no!" I just shook my head. But I knew all right that if he decided to "yes" I would have it "yes" whether I liked it or not.

"Then will you at least take it to your mouth?" he asked resentfully.

"I'll try," I said.

It seemed to resurrect his high spirits a little.

"Come here, little Joe," he pulled me by my hand. Soon enough I was in the same position and in the same state of excitement. Only now his other hand was doing great things with my rod.

I did want to be good to him, too. So, I got from his lap - without letting go his hands - and aimed to his cock. I licked it first, probing the big head with my tongue and sliding along to the root. He started growling. I dug my fingers slightly into his hair-covered balls - he jerked but not from pain. Then I covered his shaft with my mouth and glided down.

"Yes, yes," he whispered. "Oh, wait, wait, I'll do it, too."

He took me with his enormous paws like a marionette and fumbled a little arranging us. We wound up in a 69 position - which I always thought pretty uncomfortable - but now it was okay.

He was devouring my cock and balls - and I sucked his huge penis; actually, I didn't suck so much as I used my hands to jerk him off. But he was contented - so, I went on. We both were on the verge of cumming.

He cummed a little earlier - and then I shot my load into his mouth. I already was gulping the juice from his huge testicles - and I did it all right. Then we both spread on the bed, pretty worn out.

* * *

He started rising several minutes later. I jumped up, too, looking forward to his decision how he would help me to get home.

"I have a lot of work to do," he said. "You stay here, little Joe."

In a moment I understood that I had known it all the way. I had a premonition - but I preferred to ignore it - and did it serve me right? I was broken with what he said.

"I want home!" I shouted. "You promised me! I did what you wanted, I paid you, please, let me out of here! I don't need money, just give me some clothes, please, please!"

He looked at me with a kind of disapproval. I started to the door suddenly - past him - and he caught me by my waist.

I fought as a madman. I screamed, I kicked, I tried to bite him - but he raised me to the air and brought back to the bed. His embrace was something like an embrace of a bear - if it didn't want actually hurt you. When he threw me on the bed, I tried to slip away again. He caught my hand this time - and not in his hand - but in a cuff. The other cuff was locked on one of the bed's pillars.

I pulled it and tugged it frantically. It was not a rope - it didn't give in. He turned away from me and left the room.

It seemed I went berserk. I swore and thrashed on my tether and kicked the air, and screamed, and screamed again.

Why were they all doing it to me?! I couldn't stand it any more. Not once again!

After a while the door opened. I exulted in hope that it was Mr. Brown. But it was only a servant. He put a tray with a drink and some snacks on the bed. I tired to draw his gaze - no way! As he came out, I malevolently kicked the tray to the floor. It was foully - but I watched with a kind of pleasure as the carpet was soaking in orange juice and yogurt. My hand was already bruised and grazed - but I didn't pay much attention to it. I flung on the cuff again and again, with all my strength.

It ended when I dislocated my wrist. The pain made me sober. But it didn't make me contented. I just lay still.

Mr. Brown returned when it was already dark. He came in without turning the light on and sat down on the bed beside me. I didn't move. Suddenly his huge warm arms enveloped me. Smelly he was - and so strong - and all of a sudden for me I threw myself to his arms and pressed to his suit-covered chest.

"Joe, my Joe," he murmured almost inaudibly. "My poor thing... You know, when a mouse is trapped in the corner - it sometimes strikes the assaulter. A little mouse strikes even a big man. Come here, my little mouse, don't be scared, I'll protect you, I'll take care about everything..."

"I want to piss," I said.

"Oh, Joe," he reached for the cuff and suddenly said heartbroken. "Your hand!"

He turned the light on, uncuffed me and probed my swollen wrist with tentative fingers.

"It's okay, okay," he whispered, "you didn't break it, I'll set it, I know how to do it."

And he did set it, bandaging it tightly afterwards.

"Oh, holy Mother," he said almost helplessly. "You look so pretty with this piece of cloth on you. I want to fuck you desperately... But let's go. I have a present for you."

* * *

Walking along the house, we met several people there, servants, of course. But the only person who seemed to be embarrassed with my baby-loose robe was I myself.

We made our way somewhere downwards. At last we reached a room that was our destination.

We stopped for a moment at the door. It was murky there. But still enough light to figure out cuffs and rope loops hanging from the ceiling. There were shackles on the floor as well, and a wide range of whips and lashes on the walls. And there were voices of people inside.

To put it mild, I was very scared. But I gathered all the crumbs of my brazenness and turned to Mr. Brown:

"Are you still going to hang me by my ankles and by my balls?" I asked with a smile. But he only pointed with his chin somewhere past my shoulder.

I turned around - and there was a naked man with hood-covered head, tied by his hands to the hook on the ceiling.

I knew him. I didn't see his face - but I knew him nevertheless.

"Only this one came, sir," a man said to Mr. Brown. "The other didn't."

So, Steve eventually came for me?! I could be dead ten times by then, for all I knew! I felt the cold and the pain again - and the muddy ground under my feet.

Obedient to Mr. Brown's small nod, the man came to Steve and ripped the hood off.

He blinked. He needed time to adjust his eyes even to this dim light.

"What?.. Why do you do it for me?" he broke out. And then he saw me. "Joe? Joe?" it took a moment or two for him to grasp it. "Joe, I'm sorry!" he started. "I didn't mean it..."

He was a smart mother fucker.

"I don't know, Joe," Mr. Brown said hesitantly. "Maybe, you should forgive the fella. Look, he is in fear and..."

"Yes, yes!" Steve thrashed on his rope as if trying to give additional weight to his words. "I understood! I understood! I won't do it again, I promise!"

I felt like throwing up. I would be happy never to see him again.

"Won't do what?" Mr. Brown said suddenly.

"I won't..." Steve actually stumbled, not knowing how to verbalize it. "I won't fuck him hard again... cum on him... make him suck my..."

"Shut up!" I couldn't listen to it. I couldn't! I screamed as crazy and slapped him on his face with all my force. His head dangled.

There was an expression of a hurt boy in his na´ve startling-blue eyes.

"Do you hate him?" Mr. Brown asked.

Yes, I hated him. I hated him so much that I didn't ever imagine I would be able to hate anyone.

"Then hurt him!" Mr. Brown said sharply. "Hurt him! Whip him! Fuck him!"

I stepped back a little. Steve looked at me with genuine horror. I saw it very clear - and I could also see other things in front of my eyes. It was my tune that blurred.

"Whip him! Hurt him! Fuck him!" Brown was chanting.

I picked the belt from the hook. Steve started saying "Joe, Joe, Joe" - again (in these five minutes he called my name more times than during all our relations!) The belt was heavy in my hand.

Then another thought struck me. I took a set of clips from a drawer and came to his front. When he looked at them, he started pleading:

"No, no, Joe, my wife, she will see..."

Why the fuck did I have to care about his wife?!

I attached these evil crocodile things to his nipples and his balls. He flinched and squirmed hugely.

Then I walked around him and put the first strike of the belt upon his ass.

"Ughh!" he said. A thin deep-pink stripe crossed his buttocks. I lashed once more - and then I reached to his ear and whispered:

"Say 'Thank you, sir, may I have another' after every one."

I read about it in a sex story. It seemed terrifying for me then. But now, when he mumbled after my next strike:

"Thank you, sir, may I have... another..." - it was arousing.

How could I deny it if my rod pierced the air in front of me obscenely!

I gave Steve - and heard his thank-you-sir-may-I-have-another-s - exactly 23 lashes, that with first two unthanked gave a neat amount of 25. He was sobbing by then, his ass criss-crossed with reddening welts.

When I dropped the belt he sighed in relief.

But he should knew better. I came close to his ass and tried to pry its cheeks apart.

He went crazy when understood.

"No, Joe, no, don't it! Please, I'll be good, I'll never do wrong to you any more!"

With my still a little sore wrist I couldn't operate with his ass as I wanted - as long as he tensed it so much. I reached for the clip on his balls and squeezed it. He yelped.

"Ease yourself," I said. "You don't want me gnaw it through, do you?"

He gave in at once. I spat on my fingers and rubbed it into his hole. He strained again - but controlled it quickly. I wetted my cock with spat, too, and set it upon his small unyielding anus.

He started screaming the same moment I pushed in. Yeah, man, he was tight. As tight as a straight guy could be in your imagination. Well, was he straight after fucking me? I don't know. But with his ass penetrated now, he was not straight any more, for sure.

The muscles of his sphincter let my cock in. He panted; all his body was shaken in this panting.

"Please, please," he still was blabbing. "Take it out! It hurt! It hurt so much! I'll do what you want, Joe, just take it out! I'll do everything! I'll... suck you!"

He said it almost with disbelief in his voice.

"Fuck you sucking," I said under my breath.

I was in to the point. Then I started pulling my cock out and pushing it in with long insistent blows. He moaned and growled and trembled under my thrusts. His tight straight-guy pretty ass was giving in to me, I stretched it, I was in - and it was a fuck!

On the peak I quickly yanked my cock out from his hole and shot my first load on his back and ass-crack. He flinched when he felt it, all tense again at once - and I cummed the last of my sperm in my palm. Then I walked around him and smeared it all into his face.

"Don't thank me, Steve," I said. "I did it from heart."

* * *

My cock was pretty covered in shit and mucus - and the only thing I wanted to do was to wash it. When I paced to the door, I heard Mr. Brown saying in a malicious voice:

"Well, if little Joe is over, I think, we can take advantage of this ass."

I turned around. There was the sweetest and the most wicked smile on his lips.

I looked at Steve then - it broke him down. I saw a jet of piss leaking along his leg.

"Give him his clothes and return where you got him," Brown said to his men rather coldly.

In the bedroom again he was all turned-on and exhilarated. He patted and petted me on his lap, calling me his "little master".

"Did you like it? Oh, little Joe! You did like it! I did it for you!"

I felt good. I felt mean, I think, but I felt good, really! It was like I was drunk with myself.

"Oh, my toy darling!" Mr. Brown was rocking me on his knees. "I want you, I want you so much!"

"Nice to hear," I answered stroking his big gray-haired head. "I want you, too."

"Will you let me into your ass?" he asked ingratiatingly, kissing my neck.

"Not now," I shook my head. "Maybe, tomorrow. Maybe, next week."

His tongue was sliding roughly under my ear.

"Will you then fuck my big ass, my slave-master?" he asked.

"Sure!" I said.

THE END

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