Introduction: To those who have been waiting patiently for the next installment of "The Boarding House" I send my apologies. I completed a significant portion of that story, but there is more to go. My most recent stories have been collaborations with correspondents who have kindly shared with me their personal experiences and asked me to translate them into stories. I have often had a component of personal experience in my stories in vignettes or scenes. But beginning with The Boarding House, both the concept and the first installment, I have been trying to merge long-time experiences with my modest skills of imagination. Thank you to those who have helped me by providing their experiences, and I am always grateful for your feedback shared with me over the years. I must say that the quality of writing on the internet has improved year by year and I am grateful to other writers of adult fiction who have kept us entertained. Often these stories speak to our respective needs in ways that would otherwise not be available. I hope in some way I add to that effort. I certainly admire the good writers on the web, and consider myself still a learner. Please contact me at glaucon55@aol.com.
Glaucon55/"Doc"
Disclaimer:
If you are not yet 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This story is for adults, and contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys with older men. This story is completely fiction, all descriptions and names are also made up, and any similarities are truly just that, purely similarities. I do not engage in or condone sexual activity with underage boys which is regulated by law. These are fantasies for private sexual enjoyment, not for emulation in real life. All rights are reserved by the author.
All of my stories are posted on http://www.pridesites.com/omelissokomos/glaucon/. A number of them are posted on ASSGM.com. some on Nifty. Glaucon55/"Doc"
The Dean's List By Glaucon55 Begun March 6, 2009
Dean Fraser was just a regular guy. Growing up in the Midwest, he was exposed to the same repressive social conditions that constrained visible sexual appetite and behavior, and just as predictable, he was exposed as a result of that repressive world to some weird shit that was always just beneath the surface. For a straight construction worker, his sex life seemed normal enough. Like other young men in his late twenties he was working to pay the bills, and earning enough to enjoy the bars on a Friday night where the pussy was plenty. With his blond good looks that gave him a distinct advantage in the hunt, he was scoring enough to keep his pecker sated. Like most other men he was focused on getting laid as often as he could. His buddies on the various contract jobs would share stories about fucking chicks, especially when a pretty girl walked by and tempted their macho need to compete with one another. Like his other straight buddies from the job, Dean didn't think much about why pussy was so good. Fuck, it was just the way things were in his small part of the world. Girls were made for fucking and his dick craved fucking. From the time he had his first slut pussy at age fifteen, like Pavlov's dog, his cock twitched when he saw a tight ass, big tits, and soft lips. Every Friday night was a new opportunity to go fishing for a snug cunt into which he could lodge his 8 inch prick with its fat, wide knob. Those sticky folds would bathe his glans with lubricant, and the firm young muscles would grip it hard as he pistoned the rigid shaft in and out, driving himself and the girl he was fucking to the huge explosion that would drain his fat, sweaty nuts and relieve him of the pressure that distracted him from the day he last shot his wad. Dean Fraser was like most blue collar guys, driven by his thick prick...his brain directed by the pressure of stored cum in his churning balls. He worked and looked the part of a macho construction worker, casual and unaffected, handsome and in control, but his brain spent most of its time feverishly thinking about the next snatch he was going to fuck and with a desire to shoot his sticky spooge. He often wore briefs just keep his semi-rigid penis from rubbing against the soft cotton of his boxer shorts, itching his whorish prick knob and making him drip pre-fuck lube.
But Dean also had a side line that would have made the guys from the job he drank with go bug-eyed if they knew. Like every American, he was part entrepreneur and he had discovered a little known underground market for straight men that his buddies would not have understood. It was rare that Dean mixed with the college crowd...but for a couple of months he was banging a college girl he met in the bar where he and his buds scoped chicks. She wanted fuck lust with her fantasy of a construction worker, and Dean was pleased to satisfy her wet cunt as much as he could. One night, she took him to a college mixer. He was five, six years older that the kids who were searching for their next lay at the party, and while he felt like a fish out of water, he decided that the liquor and food was free so he might as well enjoy it. She introduced Dean to one of the baseball players on the college team who was there with his cunt-for-the night. The kid played third base for a team going no-where, but he seemed like an okay dude. As they drank and made small talk, the player saw someone enter the party he recognized and he made a snide, off-hand remark about faggots below his breath to Dean. Dean's pick-up pussy and the ball-player's date had gone to the bathroom to powder whatever chicks need to powder, so he had nothing better to do than shoot the shit with the wry jock. When the dude made his off-hand comment about a "faggot" it caught Dean's attention because it seemed to come out of the blue, and who the fuck was talking about fags anyway? So, despite the banality of male banter they had been engaged in, for a moment, Dean began to focus. Acting disinterested, he casually turned to the boy and said, "Dude, what the fuck...who's a fag?" The baseball player nodded his head in a direction across the room, and then indicated as discreetly as he could the good-looking frat type who was making small talk with a girl and her date.
"That dude in the rugby shirt, he's a faggot?" Dean asked, wondering why any dude with half-way decent looks would be interested in other men. And yet, there was something persistent in Dean's inquiry, as if he needed to know.
"How do you know?" Dean asked with a puzzled expression. The guy looked straight enough. Was there a magic signal or indicator that you could detect that let you know if a dude was queer? That might come in handy, just in case some friendly guy turned out to be staring at your ass. He focused on the baseball jock's analysis.
"Simple dude, the fag pays me to let him suck my toes." When the boy said this, he looked casually at Dean and made a wry, cynical smile as if everyone with a lick of sense knew what he was talking about.
"What...what the fuck are you talking about dude?" For a moment he wondered about the baseball player...Dean was more puzzled then ever, and he could not help himself from taking a quick peek down at the jock's feet, looking at the long, thick toes in a pair of flip flops.
The nineteen year old laughed at Dean's confusion, and then explained that a number of the jocks on campus had joined a web site where they earned easy money from faggot types who wanted to sniff and suck their toes. Most of it was done on line, but the big money came from letting the scumbags actually service their feet. The boy across the room had met with the baseball player two times during the semester. He liked it when the third baseman came back from practice with his leggings and sweat soaked socks on...and let him use his teeth to unlace the cleats, and then let the ballplayer wriggle his sock and legging cover toes and feet over his face. "Shit, you shoulda seen him snarf my dogs...I'm size thirteen, long toes, and he couldn't get enough of `em, sniffing, sucking, licking. I don't get it...I don't even like chicks' feet, but fuck, who's gonna turn down a payday. If people wanna chow down on my big boats, have at it...just pay me...you dig?" As he spoke, he flexed his long toes, curling them in the flops and exposing the pale arch of his foot.
"No chick has dug my feet as much as that bitch...actually made me throw a fuckin' bone the way he sucked my toes like he was sucking my dick...but that's all the fag got...and he paid like a mother-fucker. He'll act like he doesn't know me from shit, but he's already made a date for next week, after practice." I keep my feet clean cause I don't like being a scum bag...so it all works out." The girls came back in a few minutes and so the discussion ended, but Dean couldn't keep his eyes off the handsome young man who was still working on the girl he began talking to when he arrived at the party. How could this guy, who seemed to be working the chick hard enough to get a blow job or a fuck later, also want to submit to another dude and get his rocks off sucking some guy's feet? Dean was shocked, but he was also curious.
For some reason what the baseball jock had told him made him throw a bone as the boy described the handsome boy sucking his toes. The dude told him that he required the punk to keep his hands locked behind his back, and to crawl to him on his knees and forearms. He listened with rapt attention, his eyes straying again and again down to the baseball player's size 13 feet in the flip-flops, his toes flicking and flexing as he described the details. When he said the dude craved being out of control, and having to submit to the baseball player's big body...it made a shiver run up Dean's spine. Fuck, there was something about losing control that was at the back of his mind too. The ballplayer's big pale feet were muscular, with long toes and a high meaty arch, a narrow but muscular heel. Didn't all guys have big feet? And who the fuck, Dean thought would want to smell another dude's feet much less suck on them? But besides the loss of control, there something else nagging Dean, and finally he had asked the key question. "Dude, how much money do you make?" The baseball player told him that on-line it cost guys about $50-$100 for a session with a cam, but the in person sessions could earn up to $200 or $300 bucks. "Fuck..." Dean whispered under his breath, staring across the room at the boy who seemed so normal, so regular. He flexed his own thick toes in his shoes and socks, and wondered what a dude had to do at a "in person" session. He turned to the baseball player and asked.
"Shit, it's easy money dude. You just sit back on a chair or couch, and the faggot gets down on his hands and knees and crawls over to you. I got a rule, no touching above the ankles...but below, they can have at it. So usually they take off my shoes and socks, or flips depending on what they want me to wear, sniffing my shoes and socks, or going straight down to get it on with my feet. I'm popular cause I have size 13 boats, and the fags like big feet...think its related to the size of a dude's dick...and the bigger the feet, the hotter the queer gets for em. That dude across the room sucked my toes for an hour, and then jerked himself off. He said he would pay me another $100 bucks if I let him cum on my feet and then lick it off, but I said fuck no.' I didn't want any of his shit on me. But I know dudes who'll even let `em suck their cocks and shit, and charge up to a $1,000 a session...but those are usually with older men who have the cash."
Dean listened, mesmerized by dollar signs flashing through his head as he absorbed the baseball player's words. His prick was still hard from the idea of some dude losing control of his masculinity and submitting to another dude...but right now, all he could focus on was the idea of cool cash that could help out a construction worker who was struggling during the damn recession. Fuck he had size twelve feet! Christ, if he could set a schedule to work it out, he could make some fast money on the side and get the motor bike he'd wanted and put some cash aside for the rainy days that seemed to be coming more often in the current economy. He acted as casual as he could, but asked the baseball player if he could get the url for the web site where you could sign up, and the boy gave it to him. By that time the girls had returned, and later that night as he fucked his date senseless, he was actually dreaming about his new bike, how soon he could make the down-payment, and maybe just a bit of what it would be like to have some dude crawling and helpless, desperate for a weird-ass sexual craving and release.
But months later, it was Thursday night and Dean had an appointment. After signing up on the web site, and posting pictures of his feet, he soon had two to three appointments a week that were earning him anywhere from $200 to $500. He called his clients "The Dean's List" as a kind of joke, but the important thing was that he was making money. At first it was just his feet. After all, he was 6' 2" tall and almost 190 lbs. When he flexed his long, thick toes, the men who had purchased time with him in person had expressions of helpless surrender. Soon their tongues were wrapped around his big toe, or laving between his other ones, and sniffing the faint scent of his foot sweat. Dean kept his feet pretty clean like the baseball dude, mostly because he could not stand the idea of anyone licking dirty feet. But fuck, he was a construction worker, wearing thick boots all day. There was just enough shoe odor, and foot sweat to keep his clients happy. Then, about five months into doing the gigs, a man had paid him an extra $300 bucks for allowing him to suck his cock.
Dean did not take this action lightly. He had no interest in queers per se, and homo-sex seemed strange and perverted to him. But an experience when he was sixteen had made him realize that sex was just sex, and there was something about losing control that make his prick a bit harder whenever he let himself go there. He had an older cousin who was queer, a dude named Kent. He never asked his cousin how come he was queer, but Kent would hang out with a couple of other friends who were also apparently fags. One night when he was hanging out at a party Kent had at Dean's Uncle and Aunt's house, Kent and his friends were all drinking and getting drunk when one of the guys produced a porn tape. As they watched a peroxide blond swallow what seemed like a foot long prick on some dude, hard-ons developed around the room. Dean was a cocky kid, and he said that watching the chick work on the dude's prick made him feel like he could cum over and over. The other guys laughed at him, and like most sixteen year old boys, he took offense that his masculinity had been challenged. He accused the others who were just two or three years older than him that even if they were "too old" to cum, that he was man enough to shoot scum anytime. What he really meant, was that fags couldn't jizz like real men, not like him.
The older boys' laughs turned into derisive comments, and then, his cousin's queer friend suggested that they make him prove it. Suddenly Dean got hot under the collar, but warm with fear rather than anger or bravado; for some reason the suggestion had made his prick start to harden. In a second the three older boys had jumped on him and were holding him down on the couch; then they began pulling off his clothes. There's something about forcibly stripping someone that is such a turn on. The men laughed and yelled at Dean various insults, as he sputtered, cursed and fought to prevent them from removing his clothing. But inevitably his pale, muscular body and skin began to emerge, exposed as his clothes were shed over the floor of the living room and the men's hands glided over each place they exposed, gently rubbing, feeling, tickling and probing.
The men began to stroke and feel Dean's firm young body from head to toe. 30 fingers were stroking him, scratching over his abs, sliding over his stiff teats, poking into his ears, tickling under his arms and into his navel, and stroking his thick penis. In the midst of these delicious sensations, it made Dean flash back several years. The incredible feeling of the strong fingers probing his muscular form, tickling and caressing him, made him recall the sexual excitement that he had as a young teen. His brother's friend Steve used to jump on Dean alot when the two younger boys were 11 and 12 and then they would wrestle around, grabbing and trying to pin one another. Dean's younger brother Rob and Steve were both younger than Dean, and so it was natural that they would gang up on him, a boy's culture and right of passage. Dean accepted it as stupid guy stuff; older boys always had to defend their turf against younger punks. It started out as grab ass, and male bravado, and even if he threw a boner, for Dean it was never sexual as much as a new experience of his body responding to being touched and felt during the physical play. But soon, it became more.
Steve stayed at Dean's house all the time when the boys were in middle school, sleeping over almost every weekend. Dean would sleep in his underwear and a t-shirt, and on one of those nights he woke to find Steve's hand's thrust into the front of his briefs, gently stroking his thick five inch boner. He was groggy, but the moment he became conscious of the sensation of a hand sliding over his pre-teen prick knob, thumbing the sticky drool that had leaked from the wide piss lips, his legs stretched out, his toes curled, and he tried to turn over onto his stomach in an almost reflexive response to the maddening tickle. Dean groaned low, unable to keep completely quiet. It took all his strength to keep from groaning out loud, making him grit his teeth from the excruciating sensation. But Steve was strong for his age, and when he realized that Dean was awake, he gripped the shaft under the bloated glans, and he sped up the flicking of his thumb on Dean's throbbing erection. Dean gritted his teeth even more, and reached up over his head to grip the headboard, as if to slide away from the boy's ministrations to his big boy weiner. His long teen toes curled tight, and he gasped from the amazing sensation of the younger boys thumb grazing back and forth on his now captive crown. Steve whispered to Dean, fearful that the older boy would make enough noise to wake Rob.
"Shhhh Dean...I have you under my power dude...so just be quiet and take it..." The moment Steve uttered those words, it was if Dean was helpless. He cock no longer belonged to him...Steve was in charge of it now, and as the boy's thumb tortured his fat prick tip, he simply drove his head into the pillow and surrendered to whatever the kid wanted to do.
Dean knew he should knock Steve's hand away...be it felt so amazing to have someone else's hand on his teenage prick, and the intensity of the sensation of Steve's thumb was something he had never felt before. Even in his stupor, he liked the feeling of being stretched out and someone else working his always stiff prick. Fuck...it felt so good to be out of control...weird but really different and all he could do is surrender to the relentless fingers of the younger boy. They did not wake up Dean's younger brother. Instead Dean found his hips plunging into Steve's fist. Once Steve realized that Dean would not stop him, he loosened his grip and let the older boy's involuntary fucking instinct take over, and the rigid boy prick, slick with his pre-fuck, forced its way in and out of Steve's circled fingers, as if the younger boy had created an artificial pussy for Dean to screw. Dean gripped the headboard more firmly and lifted his ass to drive his hips and prick into Steve's fist, and Dean drew up his strong legs and planted his feet apart so he could thrust more completely.
"Oooooohhhhhhhh fuck...ooooooooh shit...aaaaaaagggghhhhhhh" Dean groaned as low and quietly as he could, his eyes squeezed shut and his hips picking up speed. Steve just sat back and let the boy's prick get mauled and milked as Dean fucked the younger teen's soft fist. For his part, Dean allowed his penis to be masturbated ruthlessly by the other boy. Steve was emboldened when Dean just drove his Pavlovian prick into the younger teens milking fist, so he reached up with his free hand to grasp one of Dean's erect tit nubs, and the added a sensation that made Dean thrust his head back down onto the pillow even as he thrust his hips up into the masturbating fingers, his big boy feet gripping the bed more firmly at the same time. He arched his back towards Steve, and his bloated prick knob expanded to a smooth, glassy, fat plum as it popped through the fingers, then Dean helplessly spit out four or five long, thick spurts of boy spunk, feeling like he was pissing in bed.
He whined with each ejaculation of his teenage spooge; "aaaaaiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeee... Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh..." Steve laughed quietly behind him, and continued to thumb the wet glans, making Dean buck and swing his head and face into his pillow in an attempt to get through the unbearable sensation on his willing prick tip. Dean hissed and continued to whine softly into the pillow, allowing his penis to be controlled by his brother's young friend. For what seemed like minutes, Dean teased the post cum prick knob of the older boy, but actually it was only about a minute or two. But during that time, Dean not only felt helplessly out of control, his big boy body surrendered to the younger boy, but his penis had never felt so intense and sensitive. His masturbation had never produced such a feeling, and even though he had cum, his prick remained hard as steel as long as Steve played with it.
That was not the first time Steve had drained the older boy's nuts Dean found out later. But it was the first time Dean was aware of it, and had awoken to the milking. Steve told Dean he had been masturbating him regularly, but the boy had slept through the previous times, twisting and turning in his sleep, but not aware of the ejaculations wrenched from his body. From this time on though, Dean woke, and allowed the younger pre-teen boy to "do things to his body", but mostly just masturbate him until he shot his scum and then work the over-sensitive glans. Dean didn't understand why, but he liked to feel helpless and have his big boy dick teased and stroked into submission. And Steve liked to make his friend's older brother feel helpless, and force the boy to sort of fight like he wanted to free himself---but never hard enough to stop the masturbation.
Dean's brother soon joined the games, and both the brothers surrendered their penises to Steve's talented fist. Steve would focus on masturbating Dean's older brother Rob by exclusively palming his fat cock head. The younger brother would surrender immediately to this method, and Steve would push up his t-shirt, pinch his nipples while Dean's brother would spread his legs, and grind his ass into the bed, snapping his head back and forth from the delicious sensation. Rob was not shooting sperm yet, but his boner would expand from Steve's relentless palming, and then pulse through a long dry cum. His brother could even be continuously milked to produce more than one dry cum. Dean was fascinated watching his brother surrender to Steve, both because he could imagine what he looked like while the boy milked him, and because Rob could be kept in a post cum polishing of his knob until he arrived at another dry cum, as powerful as the first. Dean was mesmerized watching the bloated glans of his younger brother's prick mauled and rubbed by Steve's soft fist, Even as he watched, his own boner would throb and leak, on the edge of spontaneous ejaculation, biting his lip and keeping a straight, deadpan expression while he desperately craved the same surrender he was watching.
One night Steve brought a porn tape from his dad's "special drawer" and the boys all watched it and played with each other by getting inside each others sleeping bags and humping dick on dick and jerking each other. After that night it felt kinda weird for the boys to get horny around each other and it pretty much stopped for a long time. Now as Dean was being stretched out on the bed by his cousin and the other men, he recalled how Steve would sometimes pull his hands over his head to grip the headboard as if he was tied to it, and use his legs to trap Dean's legs apart, and then masturbate Dean while the older boy felt and acted as if was helpless. It was fucking strange to be helpless, but the thought of being made to cum and the wondrous feeling when it happened, recalled for Dean why he let Steve do it over and over for quite a while that year so long ago.
Now Dean was helpless again. He was hard when the men got him down on the couch and pulled his arms and legs apart and held them. They laughed and said they were going to make Dean cum and cum, and "not ever stop". While he fought them on principle, Dean thought it was just a big joke and did not want to look afraid so he tried to keep his cool and not freak out.
Kent's friends Rob and Mike held Dean's arms and Kent held his legs. Then Kent pulled his briefs down below his big full balls. The briefs were soaked with Dean's copious precum, and the fat, bloated cock knob was basted with the clear scum. The three men stared in wonder at the lewd sight, the teenage boy's helpless boner, throbbing and sticky with his teen pre-fuck. The sight really turned Rob on and he kept saying stuff about it and telling Dean to make more for him; "comm'on dude, juice for us, show us how fuck horny you are...ya jizz bag, prick hard slut." Sometimes Rob sounded like the dumb shits in bad porno films or even like the dirty fuck talk of the construction workers' banter, and it made it hard for Dean to concentrate because he kept thinking he was staring in a bad porn film especially when one of the guys brought out a camera. Dean looked down at himself. They had pulled off his briefs and he was only in a shirt and socks. His shirt was unbuttoned and pulled back to his shoulder blades, so that his firm abdominals and deep navel, and curved pecs with their stiff teats, were exposed to the men's fingers. His legs were spread, but his big feet were flexing, the loose socks, especially at the toes, flapping as he struggled.
Rob started down to grasp the boy's 7" boner, and slid his palm over the bloated glans, making Dean grunt and squeal from the sensation, and then Rob's fist closed around the glans and twisted gently one way and then the other, masturbating the sexy teen. Dean bucked and ground his ass, his eyes closed tight from the initial sensation, then opening to watch in wonder has Rob's meaty fist milked him like Steve's had years earlier. Rob used Dean's own pre-cum to lubricate the boy's penis, and soon had stroked him to the first helpless explosion of cum, spurting high above his body and covering his chest and Rob's fist as the man tortured the fat glans after the boy finished spunking. Dean groaned and howled from the sensation, but the men hunkered down and held his bucking body in check so they could continue to toy with him.
A bottle of petroleum jelly appeared after the first cum, and the men each dipped their fingers into it to jerk Dean with the Vaseline, taking turns to achieve their goal. Rob really knew what he was doing, teasing the helpless boy through the first ejaculation, making him crazy from the way his fist worked him like a fine instrument. The teenage Dean was all response and no control; his body was not his in this situation, and Rob knew how to make him surrender. It seemed like it took forever for Dean to cum but he finally shot again 20 minutes later, to Mike's lubricated fist. Dean has stopped fighting and wasn't even watching the porn on the television in the bedroom. Instead, he watched as Mike was working his teenage erection, jacking him, making him submit. It was weird and fascinating at the same time, seeing another fist working over his big boy boner, teasing it ruthlessly and making him respond with fits of jerking and bucking, but unable to stop it. Dean could see that Mike was erect and hard in his sweatpants, and Dean could see that the older boy's dickhead had produced a dark wet spot only a foot from his head. Every time Dean's dick throbbed as he was stroked he noticed Mike's did too, and it was this strange connection that Dean started to feel for a couple of minutes before he was about to cum.
Mike was doing a VERY amazing thing from the perspective of Dean's fevered and sex horny brain, where he was holding the teen's arms down with his legs and reaching down and over the boy's body, grabbing his dick at the base with one hand and doing a twisting stroke over the fat plum of the glans with the other. Dean squealed and cursed from the demented stroke, but Mike kept rolling his fist around the head, making the boy's toes point helplessly and his socks begin to come off his feet from their repeated twisting and jerking from the sensation. Once Mike realized he could elicit the lewd mewling from the boy, he focused on the twisting, milking approach, reveling in the teenager's loss of control and desperate pleas for release.
When Dean came the twisting produced sensations on his knob that made it seem like he was already right in the middle of the orgasm. But like Rob, Mike just kept going, stroking exactly the same like Dean had never cum at all. Dean felt like his dick was away from his body, and he was trying to get away from it and the incredible tickling sensation on his captive prick knob. Once again he bucked like a madman, squealing his protest. The men were mesmerized, watching the helpless teenager express his fuck lust and enjoying the power they were exercising over his sweating, heaving body. Dean's first shot hit his neck and the rest spurted across his chest and stomach drenching the boy is the pungent teen gism. Dean was grossed out by having Mike's erect dick so close to his head, especially when the man ejaculated spontaneously as he made Dean cum, so Dean kept his head turned away, but the scent of the man's cum was powerful and in all the thrusting and bucking the sweats covered boner, now sliming the inside of the pants, bumped against his head and the side of his face, making him feel a strange excitement from the power he was exerting over the older guy, even though he was the one captive.
Dean tried not to show any emotions when he felt the buildup to his ejaculation, but it was impossible. He had been out of control from the moment the guys had begun to strip and feel him up, and when Rob and Mike focused on his sensitive cock knob, he couldn't keep quiet and put on a macho face. He normally held his breath and grunted when he came, now he was groaning and squealing from the overwhelming sensations on his fat, sticky glans. "AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH...AAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEE, AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH." His wide piss lips spread, and the thick ejaculate burst from the fat knob, bolting up over his head as the talented fist continued to milk and drain him.
He fought to get away from the merciless palming his fat knob was getting in his post cum sensitivity. "OH GOD...OOOOOOOHHHH FUCK...STOP, STOP...AAAAAHHH, NNNNNOOOOOOO, HELP, SHIT, FUCK, AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH." Yet even as he struggled futilely from the excruciating sensations on his overwrought glans, yelled and cursed, he sensed that the uncontrollable response of his body made this cum hotter than any ejaculation he had experienced. It was like the times with Steve when he was younger, the rush, the throbbing excitement, and he didn't know why. That almost made him mad, even has he groaned, squealed and thrashed, thrusting his hips as much into the fists that worked his big boy bone, as much as he tried to escape—he was no faggot, why did this shit feel so fucking good?
Mike kept going for a good 5 minutes after Dean ejaculated, working his remorseless fist round and round the fat, still stiff, knob, occasionally letting his fingernails scrape against the corona, and seeking the knot of flesh where his circumcision scar was located. He worked the wet, sticky knob gently, making the boy strain every muscle as he responded to the excruciating tickle, his head bouncing frantically from side to side. Rob told Mike they should switch, so they changed spots and now, instead of trying to get up, Dean's thrashing and bucking calmed down and eventually, he just lay there letting the men do what they wanted with his body. It was almost as if he was having an out of body experience, and he was watching himself act weird, letting these faggots touch and play with his body, but between the powerful sensations of his cums, and the excruciating sensations of working his cum-sensitive knob, he just did not know what to do other than to let the sensations keep on going. It was like he was a dumb animal, being used and unable to regain control of his body, and slavishly responding to the overwhelming sensation of having his knob polished and teased.
Rob paused for a minute and crawled between Dean's legs, and Mike brought him a small gym bag from another room. Rob pulled out a long plastic bag tie that he wrapped around Dean's dick and balls saying it would keep the boy hard. For a moment Dean panicked as the older boy pulled out some small dildoes that appeared huge to him. But Rob ignored them, and instead he extricated a bottle of Vaseline and dipping his finger, he used them to slide between Dean's taut teenage ass cheeks. Dean started to get agitated again, fearing for his ass, his bastion of privacy and manhood, but Rob was persistent and Dean was still exhausted from his previous cums, so eventually the thick digit of the older boy slithered up his anus and into his rectum. Other than the Doctor giving his a prostate exam, this was the only intrusion Dean had allowed into his inner sanctum. He started fighting to get up and push Rob away, but the other men just laughed at him and said they weren't going to let Dean stop cumming.
Dean started yelling this was rape and he was going to beat the shit out of Mike and his cousin, both of whom began to get scared suggesting they should stop and `let the kid go.' But Rob was determined, with a kind of creepy, calm telling the others what to do and finally they just fought Dean back down onto the bed, wearing him out and getting him so tired he stopped fighting. Panicked again, Dean yelled and said he was going to shout until someone called the police. So Mike took his long white cotton gym socks off and wrapped one around the boy's eyes and then tied it, and he used the other one as a gag, wrapping it around and into Dean's mouth. The teenager yelled into the socks, to no avail, and sputtered, furious that Mike's dirty gym socks had been shoved into his mouth. But fortunately Mike hadn't had his shoes on long, so the socks were not rancid, and Dean would never forget the taste and feel of the socks in his mouth—being gagged and helpless making his prick get hard. Someone turned up the record or tape player, and the Goo Goo Dolls and Celine Deon were playing in the background over and over...music that to this day Dean hates.
In the meantime, Rob was trying to push his fingers up and into Dean's ass while Kent and Mike took turns playing with the boy's bound dick, flicking his nips and teasing and tickling his sides where the drying ejaculate was itching. Rob just kept saying "not yet" and "I'll find it" when he had his finger inside Dean, wriggling the thick digit back and forth in search of Dean's nut, and telling him to relax. When he finally hit the spot and found the boy's firm fuck nut, Dean eyes opened wide and he tensed from the strange ache, trying to desperately move his hips to escape the invasion. But Rob smiled a knowing smile and he got very aggressive, prodding and probing the spot, making the teenage boy feel as if he was being masturbated from the inside out. It was really uncomfortable for Dean but it started to feel very strange, and soon he got hard again and the wire tie around his cock and balls felt way too tight.
This time Kent made the teenager cum, stroking him to the same rhythm as Rob's finger kept fucking deep up the firm, hot hole. Dean groaned and grunted into the gag, his body being once again used and worked by these older boys. "Huuuhhhhhhhhh... aaaaggggggggggg...nnnnnnnnnngggggghhhhhh..." His words were garbled by the sock gag...but it probably wouldn't have mattered since he was once again descending into oblivion, becoming the fuck horny animal...bucking and thrusting his prick into the fist that was milking him. Here was the strange part for Dean...even as he fought to escape the incredible sensations, they were making his prick steel hard. Somewhere, somewhere deep inside, Dean wanted his fat schlong milked into submission, and crazy at it seemed, the milking fists of his cousin and his cousin's friends were giving he what he needed. When he came, Kent kept stroking the pulsing shaft and palming the fat, wet knob. Kent laughed as the cum rocketed out of the wide piss lips, and said "whoa!" because Dean's spooge shot really high into the air, splattering over the boy's head and onto Kent's arm. For Dean's cousin and the other men, seeing the sixteen year old stretched out on the couch and straining as his bloated glans expanded obscenely and his thick teenage crud bolted up and out of his rigid bone, was almost as sensational as their own cums. They savored the domination and control of the boy. For Dean, in his post cum let-down, he wanted Rob to stop fucking his fingers in his hole, and lifted his hips in an attempt to escape. But Rob's insistent fingers stayed inside, pushing and rubbing the firm fuck nut gland of the teenage boy, making him buck from the ache feeling produced each time the fingers rubbed his firm prostate.
Now Kent knew about how Dean's brother, Rob and Dean would rub their dickheads when they masturbated, and especially after they would cum. Dean had confided in his cousin a long while ago about how amazing it felt to work his fat knob. So Kent rotated his palm round and round the sticky, cum wet glans of the captive boy, making him buck insanely, teasing his nerve studded corona until they thought Dean would pass out from the sheer effort of trying to escape. Dean wailed into the sock gag, squeezing his eyes shut tight and snapping his head back and forth. But his toes stretched out in the socks there were almost off of his big boy feet, and even as he ground his teeth and pursed his lips, the seismic sensation of the knob work made his orgasm as complete as he needed and wanted. Little did his cousin know just what an emerging slut they had in their merciless hands. Round and round Kent rubbed his palm on the never-studded corona and still tumescent cock knob for what seemed like ages after the spunk filled teen had finished cumming. The room reeked of the bleach-like odor of teen sperm.
The third cum was the last one and Rob made Dean achieve it by stimulating the boy's horny fuck nut, causing him to clench his bowels and rectum, greedily gripping the fingers that were reaming him. Rob went back to the bag from which the Vaseline had been taken. The dildos that had been left aside now were brought from the other room, and greased. Then one at a time, they were screwed into the teenager, his muscular legs forced up to his chest and spread, exposing the ragged split of his anus for all the men to see. They stared at it eagerly, and watched intently as Rob introduced one after another of the slender devices, making sure that they bumped into Dean's tender and sore nut, making him squeeze his muscles and grip them deep within his rectum.
What the men did not know, and what Dean would never admit, was that the sweet ache up his asshole made his cock twitch and harden, leaking copious amounts of pre-fuck juice, and making his tits achey stiff and his toes flex and stretch out. As Rob worked the dildos into him, the others palmed his fat cock knob gently, making him whine with desperation. But after pushing a few different toys inside Dean, the one that touched him just the right way, and turned him into the whore slut he was deep inside, making his prick go steel hard, was a little vibrating egg that they slipped into his fundament. It was connected to a thick string to keep it from going too far in and not coming out, and a wire that was attached to a control box. Once lodged in Dean's rectum against his prostate, and then switched on by the remote, the wicked device not only buzzed loudly, it buzzed really, really strongly, driving the boy almost insane. The more he bucked and jerked, the more it slid insidiously inside Dean's clinging rectum walls, and over his prostate. The worst part for the teen jock, was that he liked it a lot. Rob even used some of Dean's cum to lube one of the toys, and laughed as the device slid into the teen's rectum, thinking it was so cool to do him with his own juice. Amazingly, Kent and Mike were no longer really holding Dean down anymore, but just holding onto him and toying with his hunky body. Dean was completely confused; perhaps it was the power of the vibrations deep within his boy pussy, coupled with the thrilling throbbing of his turgid pecker, or the teeth grinding sensation of his knob being polished, but something must have made the boy crazy. At any rate he didn't know why but he didn't try to get away; he wanted to cum again and see the stars that exploded in his brain the last time they had milked him. Perhaps more troubling, Dean was thinking about Mike's fucking hardon again, and even tried to see if he could see it around the sock in his mouth that was also partly flipped over his eyes. He did not want to be obvious and fling the sock away by turning his head towards Mike and straining his eyes, so he tried to catch a glimpse as he squirmed and rolled his head. Fuck, his asshole was alive like a beehive of buzzing, stinging bees, his prick was no longer under his control, his nipples, balls, and other sensitive parts of his body were being strummed by greedy fingers...shit,he was fucking helpless and he loved it. As he started to get close to cumming, Rob turned up the power on the egg, making it vibrate faster and faster, and pulled on the string one way then the other, tugging the egg around inside the boy more and more.
Rob could not contain himself as he watched the youngster writhe and roll his eyes from the various sensations overwhelming him. "Jesus, look at the little shit...he's a randy fuck, and man what a bone. The fucker is as horny as a toad...prick hard, leaking, and ready to squirt scum again...damn...I wish my prick would stay that hard, Christ, and his ass is too damn hungry...he loves his nut worked. Keep pinchin' his tits, and someone play with his balls."
Rob was right...Dean was moving all over the couch, grinding his ass, and stretching his and curling his toes...he was climbing steadily up the hill to his cum. He finally reached the summit and came really hard for the third and last time. The men marveled at how enthusiastic Dean was, his body bouncing and heaving, really into it. You could tell he no longer cared anymore about other guys seeing him ejaculate. The private, male defense of the act of orgasm had given way to the delicious, whorish pleasure of losing complete control of his body to others and the wicked, nasty things they were eliciting from him. Dean also made a lot of noise as he thrashed around, squealing through the sock in unintelligible but clearly sexual power. He bucked so much that Mike and Kent had to grasp and hold him hard and fast again.
Rob was clearly proud of his efforts, saying "Yeah! Give it to me you horny little fuck, shoot that spunk...ooooooohhhhh yeah!, you're a good little slut, shoot it, man, shoot it like you can stop!" Over and over he exhorted the teenager sperm factory distracting the kid and making his cum all the more powerful, secretly exciting the youth who had now begun to accept the role of a surrendering whore punk. Dean may have wanted to feel like I was alone was alone, like any straight dude, but Rob's sexual banter, and low husky commentary kept reducing the boy into a hapless, powerless punk. Dean could not help but be reminded that Rob was still there, and Rob made sure he knew. When Dean finished ejaculating, and even the slimy dregs had stopped leaking from his sensitive piss lips, Rob tortured the weak, spent boy by working his soft, but relentless prick tip, pulling and squeezing it and twisting his fist to get the last few drops of cum to drool out. Dean stretched out then hunched, trying to do anything to escape the maddening sensations.
Surprisingly, Dean did not feel gross or humiliated, dirty or emasculated, but just tired as fuck...and his ass felt like sore as hell, needing lube. The corona and the edge of his dick head felt very raw and sore. Rob turned off the egg and in a flash Dean's ass felt very full but also empty...secretly he actually missed the buzzing. Mike and Kent finally let Dean go, and Rob told the boy to go "shit the egg out" in the bathroom shower,and he soaked under the warm spray to regain his senses and stop the spinning in his head. Dean blushed by himself in the shower, having to bend his knees and spread his legs like some cunt to push the egg out of his boy pussy. It was so fucking weird, partly because he thought it felt like he was taking a shit, but also because in the end it did not feel as bad as he expected it would. In fact, it had hurt much more when Rob had pushed it in to him. Fortunately, it wasn't even dirty or anything, and after washing it, he was able to slide a finger up into himself and though sore, he closed his eyes and savored the new feeling of something up his boy cunt. At sixteen, Dean had learned that he had a new, special, private place that needed to be stimulated and teased when he wanted thorough, complete, and sensational sex.
When Dean came back out into the living room to get his clothes the men were all mostly naked, lying on the roll-out bed from the couch, watching gay porn video on the television. Dean dressed silently on the edge of the bed, not saying anything of what had transpired, and how he had surrendered like a back seat whore to the delicious sensations that wracked his young, highly sexually charged body. But for Dean, there was an indelible picture in his head both of what had happened, and his part, and a picture of Kent lying on his back with Mike and Rob on their knees next to his head and shoulders jacking off like they were going to shoot on his face. For a moment, Dean thought he might puke, the notion of these guys jerking their stiff, hard dicks at one another, and their naked bodies reminding him that he had let some guys use and play with his beautiful, masculine body.
No one said anything to Dean until he said in passing to his cousin Kent that he would see him later. Rob turned and looking at the boy with a sly grin, he said "So now you know what it feels like, huh?" Dean looked back with a dead pan expression, and then blushing, just kinda nodded yes. Then he looked over at Mike who was about to cum and had reared his head back. Dean saw his thick dick with its angry red knob and suddenly he felt bizarre, because he wanted to see Mike cum. He blushed, knowing that his own prick was stiffening again, unbelieveably, after three cums, just at the thought of someone feeling what he had just felt. He blushed again, but didn't want to "be gay" so he turned and left the house. But even as he departed, he looked and saw that Mike's dick was longer than his own, rigid, and came to a point and looked like it was "chewed up" at the tip where his long foreskin protected its tip. His last image of that night was of Mike, burned into his memory, with one big, gnarled hand under his balls and the other one stroking that long prick below his firm abs. Dean bit his lip, his prick lurched, and he felt a new drip of pre-cum slip from between his wide piss lips. Without knowing, Dean knew...knew that from now on in his fantasies and dreams, somewhere in the back of his mind, the notion of a spectacular cum over which he did not have control, where his thick, firm prick and its fat apple knob would be teased mercilessly and drained completely, would haunt him.
The night had ended, Dean had been drained of cum, and his prick was sore. But even though he did not show it after that night and never spoke of it, Dean had loved being made to cum and the sensation of being unable to control his cock and ejaculations. Even now, when he masturbated or when he was fucking a chick, the memory of that night and the sensation of being helpless and cumming three straight times, being forced to cum three straight times, and the wicked ticklish feeling of his prick knob as the boys ruthlessly milked him, crept into his thoughts and added to his sexual excitement. So when he was offered money to allow a blow job by one of his faggot customers, Dean was cautious and yet expectant. On the one hand, he was hesitant and feared the notion of losing control to someone like Rob, and yet whether it was money or sexual curiosity, he wanted to surrender to the servicing of his big prick. He did not want anyone to know, so he kept these thoughts to himself. He could not let anyone know, that somewhere deep inside there was something about being out of control and cumming relentlessly. But he figured he would be safe, after all he was no witless sixteen year old. Now he was a man, and a strong one at that. None of the clients knew of his strange lust, and so now he was in control...one cum and more money. The fags would pay and no one would be the wiser.
Now, year's later a businessman in his thirties had engaged Dean and they had met in a corporate apartment that was available to the man. As long as it was only one person, Dean felt he was safe. It wouldn't be like that night long ago when the men ganged up on him. He was big enough, and confident enough to take care of himself. But there was something about letting another man touch his beautiful, masterful prick...it had been untouched by another man since that night a decade earlier. But just the thought of another dude touching him made the fear of losing control both excite and repel him. Dean stretched out on the sofa in the apartment, and flexed his toes in the pair of flip-flops he wore on the hot afternoon. The man wore dark-rimmed glasses and dressed in a quality wool sports coat and slacks. But he got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to the sofa not withstanding his expensive clothes, sweat beginning to drip from his brow. Then he slowly slipped off the flip flops, and stared like a starving man at Dean's large feet, their pale skin, and the blond hair that grew in small tufts on his fist three toes and below his ankles on the top of his foot. His soles were smooth and over the months Dean had persuaded his girl friend to massage his feet after he showered and smooth in softening cream to keep them from getting too calloused. He wiggled his long digits in front of the businessman's face, and soon the man was sucking and gently tickling Dean's big peds.
The man became so excited, he asked if he could suck Dean's cock, and Dean gave him the terms. The man willingly agreed, and soon Dean's jeans were at his ankles along with his briefs, and the man was sniffing his big sweat starched balls, and licking them, as he worked his way up the thick shaft towards the large, bulbous knob that was leaking a steady flow of clear pre-fuck. Dean closed his eyes, and let the man earn his money. He was not excited by the blow job per se, it was just a normal physical reaction for his penis to get hard as a pair of lips caressed his big boy boner, and by closing his eyes he could imagine that it was his girl friend who loved nothing more than to suck his cock into submission at night in bed. But when the man's fist would slide over his cock knob as he sucked and jerked the big shaft, Dean recalled that night with the guys who had milked him. He fought the images that forced their way into his thoughts, and worked to keep in control, to get his money and get out.
The blow job proceeded normally, and the sensations were predictable, but this guy seemed to have a talent for finding the special spots, especially under his circumcision scar and at the flared edges of his piss lips that drove Dean wild. Plus, his way of sucking, using his meaty fist to slide over Dean's bloated cock knob, made his long toes curl as the tongue, lips and fist worked to bathe and suck his precious prick. Dean ground his ass into the sofa cushions unconsciously. His eyes closed tight, and his nipples hardened, and when the guy fisted his fat prick head in conjunction with his sucking mouth, and rolled his palm over the expanding knob, in a constant, smooth rhythm torturing the glans, it seemed it was that night when one of the guys fists rolled over his cock knob relentlessly and drove him mad with pleasure. At one point, the man's long, thick finger trailed under Dean's big, fragrant, hanging nut suck, when he lifted the young man's leg's up as he suckled the fat prick, and it exposed his ragged nether hole. As the finger scratched along his perineum, it trickled between the ragged anal lips and sent an electric jolt through Dean's body, making his tits harden to achey points, and his toes curl tight. Momentarily Dean forgot where he was, and when his wide piss lips began ejecting wads of his thick spooge, he bucked and thrust his prick into the siphoning mouth, and then he let the man continue to milk his cock. He grunted and mewled, and threw his had back and forth, but he didn't stop the ruthless sucking that his over-wrought prick was receiving.
He lost track of where he was and what he was doing, and instead just let the man continue to manipulate his fat prong, teasing the helpless knob and making him see stars. The man looked up in wonder, and watched as he seemed to have taken control over this big man who for all ostensible purposes had treated him like a slave. But for this moment, Dean was under the control of the slender, bookish looking businessman, and his prick would not get soft, or the knob shrink. Instead, his head lolled back and forth, and he grunted and whined and swore, and let the man tease his big boy penis on and on after his ejaculation. Five minutes went by, until gasping, Dean had a moment of clarity, and his eyes opened wide and he forced the fist off his prick and pushed the man back away from his body. He looked the businessman in the face, gasping, but also with a kind of fear. The man sensed it...and he brought an enigmatic smile onto his face, as if he knew something that Dean did not. That was the first time, but not the last.
It had been three nights since Dean had fucked his girlfriend. Jesus, it had been a damn good night. She had been playing with his prick under the table during dinner, scratching her fingernail over the sensitive tip, making him clench his ass muscles from the ticklish sensation, and leaking into his cotton briefs, wetting them and causing a sweet friction on his bloated cock knob. Then, as they drove home, she sucked his prick in the car, making him want to swoon, but also making sure he did not cum. When they got into the apartment, they stripped halfway to the bedroom, and he fucked her on the floor of the bedroom and then on the bed, cumming in her pussy and then her mouth. Fuuuuuccccck it was sooooo good. But that was three days ago, and like the gism factory he was, his nuts were full and hard. It was good that he had an appointment tonight. The guy said he wanted to consider paying for a blow job as well, after the foot work. So Dean was prepared for another satisfying release.
When he arrived at the guy's apartment, he was offered a beer, and he gladly took it. He did not know that the beer was laced with Viagra and a sedative. Soon, with a light buzz going, the dude had slipped off his trainers and thick, white, cotton socks and was laving his toes with his tongue, lashing between them, suckling them sweetly and making his prick reflexively begin to harden when it happened. He had closed his eyes and let his head fall backwards onto the couch to enjoy the buzz and let the time pass quickly. The man slipped one hand under his t-shirt and sought out his stiff male tits, and was gently pinching them, making his prick harden quickly. Just as he was about to surrender to the sweet sucking mouth, and the roiling fist rolling over his fat knob a hand closed over his nose and mouth with a cloth and there was a sickly, sweet smell. Already tired by the sedative and high from the beer, Dean was out like a light.
When he awoke, Dean was stunned. He could not move. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark room, he realized that once again in his life, he was out of control. Once again, he was a prisoner as he had been so many years ago. He was resting on his knees in two separate, padded supports that went from his quads, bent at the knees ninety degrees, and then supported his shins. His big feet flapped out at the ends bare and exposed, their pale smooth soles completely vulnerable. His arms were cuffed up behind his back elbow to elbow, and his head rested on a chin support strong enough to keep it at a normal level and relieve any pressure on his neck. His stomach rested against a padded brace in front and had a strap that secured around his midsection and his body to support his back. He had on a set of blinders around his head that kept him face forward and a perforated ball gag that allowed him to gasp in gulps of air. He wiggled his toes helplessly and groaned into the gag though his words were unintelligible. He was apparently naked, because his big prick erected as soon as he grew conscious, and aimed out in front of him, the piss lips opening to ooze his sticky flow. Dean was again trapped and his prick immediately responded to the tantalizing possibilities.
The logistical arrangements though were not the crucial element of his bondage. It was what he felt on his cock and up his rectum that made his eyes go wide. A modified version of the Venus 2000 milker was strapped over his Viagra induced erection. Within the cylinder, designed to contract and retract back and forth, was another sliding mechanism that would move around the shaft snugly one inch above and below the glans and corona, twisting back and forth. Round and round it would twist and move up and down, one direction and then the other. The interior slide was a smooth soft plastic that self-lubricated. At several locations through the retracting cylinder were thin, flexible wires that were an effective conductor of electrical current. Working with an e-Stim connection and control, this Venus could huff and chuff up and down, spinning the interior slide and activating it in a counter direction to the exterior slide. The result was a movement over the glans and one inch above it on the prick shaft, gently grazing the corona and knob, and activating the electrical current of the e-Stim and wires to tickle and tantalize the helpless helmet of the fat prick.
As he awoke, he heard a switch flick and the motion of the compressor began, Dean's eyes rolled up as if he would faint, because the intense tickling of his prick head was driving him wild, especially when it would graze gently and buzz his circumcision scar and piss lips. This was so much more powerful that what Dean had done to him, and now he was completely helpless. His prick surged at the thought, and the merciless compressor worked his knob with precision strokes. At the same time, a small cylinder had been inserted into Dean's rectum and rested up against his prostate. As the electrical current to the prick knob was stimulated by the slide of the Venus, so it sent a charge into Dean's rectum and against his fat and ever sensitive fuck nut. You could tell each time the slide moved because his long, thick toes would curl reflexively, and his fingers, though cuffed behind his back, were free and scrabbled uselessly. It was a magnificent sight, and Dean was on his long, slow way to a massive ejaculation. The compressor was calibrated to work gently and slowly, constantly self-lubricating, and even more slowly if it but detected any sudden swelling or expansion of the glans penis. But with the slight and gentle masturbation of the device, it would take at least one hour to drive a captive male up and over the edge. Many a man and boy had been kept captive to its tender mercies, and their cum had flowed freely and their cock heads polished cruelly and deliciously. Here was a device designed for unruly boys and men, whose wanton masturbation and sexual appetites suggested a need for discipline and management.
As the devices teased his precious penis, and made his big body shudder and sweat, Dean suddenly felt a finger tickling into his ear on the right side of his head. He grunted, wanting to communicate with the person, to ask whoever it was to set him free, but the finger just teased and scratched inside his ear, adding to his frustration and perversely, to his excitement. Another finger trailed across his muscular chest and sought his stiff teats, scratching across the erectile tissue and the hard nubbins, making them add to the electric current that went to his rectum and prick head. Inside his rectum, the well timed and gentle e-stim shocks pulsed against Dean's nut, and he clenched his bowels each time, hardening his prick and his fat, succulent knob. All that mattered now was that his prick was being stimulated and his he was helpless...just like when he was sixteen. The strange fingers continued to reach around his firm chest, seeking out his stiff teats through the hair on his chest. When the fingers found his erect nubbins, they gently pinched and twisted them, and that only made Dean close his eyes and let the maddening masturbation of his penis drive him closer to the explosive cum that would result in his glans being tickled mercilessly in his post cum polishing. God he wanted to be helpless and he wanted to get away, and he wanted the sensation on his prick knob to continue forever. Jesus Christ, was he a pervert...sick, why did he like this sensation, this torture...but fuck he loved it...loved being prick worked and captive, knowing he could not stop his fat cock knob from being teased into submission. Then, without relief, the machine would remain on, the compressor working without rest to wring at least two more ejaculations from the big man.
Dean was both scared and excited. His brain was fogged, but more from the Viagra than from the sedative that had worn off. It was his sexual appetite, once in charge, that made him twice a helpless captive. First and foremost, he wanted his big penis teased and milked, and second he needed to be managed, supervised, controlled, and helpless. One of the hands that was teasing his nipples and tickling in his ears, moved to his mouth...and like Pavlov's dog, he opened his mouth and accepted two, thick blunt digits into the wet cavity, his tongue slurping immediately over them, his eyes closing as he surrendered even more. Fuck, he was acting like a queer...but he couldn't help it, he needed to be subordinate, needed to be at the mercy of his captor.
The compressor had been bringing him to the edge time and again, teasing the flange of his piss lips, the lubricated soft plastic, flicking across the nerve-studded edge of his corona, grazing his circumcision scar's frenulum. Dean was dripping in sweat, he had grunted and groaned at the prospect of his cum, begged for release, and clenched his ass muscles too many times to count. His long index toe kept flicking against his big toe, demanding satisfaction for Dean's frazzled brain...horny beyond belief and desperate for his cum.
"Fuuuuuuuucccccccck...mother-fucker...aaaaahhhhhhhhhh, pleeeeeeze...pleeeeeze...fuck, shit, I need to cum, aaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh, lemme cm, lemme cum...Christ...oooooh fuck...I gotta cum...FFUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!" Dean's vocabulary compressed as he neared his release, shortened to the primitive demands of his fat, sticky boner. The pre-set timer on the compressor had reached its limit, and now, as it had slowed for the umpteenth time to tease the straining prick, it gradually picked up speed and twisted and slid round and up and down the thick shaft, gripping the expanding glans tighter and tighter. "Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh, goooooooodddddddd ddddddaaammmnnn. Fuck, aaaaaagggghhh!" With one final slide and twist, Dean squealed at the top of his lungs as his piss lips opened and ejected ropes of thick, white spooge that blanketed the cylinder and fell back onto the fat cock knob, lubricating it more as Dean wailed and pleaded for release from the maddening demands of the compressor. But this was the very moment that Dean had been seeking since he was sixteen, the very excruciating tickle that drives grown men to their knees, as the huffing cylinder milked his fat cock knob relentlessly. "OH GOD, OH FUCK, OH SHIT...AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!" And on and on the compressor worked, speeding up to torture and torment the big pricked cum factory. Dean was now the animal that nature had bred him to be, squirting baby juice with abandon and still not draining his sweaty balls that could produce the precious fluid as fast as he ejected it.
Behind Dean, the man who had scheduled the appointment that afternoon, flashed his digital camera and let the digital video capture a motion picture version of the milking, capturing a close-up of the young man's tortured facial expressions, his spontaneous wailing and yelling as his prick knob was massaged over and over in the post cum phase, as well as the cum splattering, shattering ejaculation he experienced in exquisite detail. The slow motion clips of both would be instrumental in the near future. In the meantime, the desperate hunk was now whimpering, softly pleading, and almost hoarse begging to be released as the compressor slowed and now returned to its cycle, determined to keep the still tumescent prick hard on its way to cum No. 2. The day was young, and so was Dean, designed by Nature to be juiced at least three times in succession.
One hour later, Dean was again on the edge...his eyes wide and his breath in gasps, as the amazing machine dragged him over the edge. Once again his voice rose to a crescendo, and he bleated and howled for freedom and release as the ruthless mechanical device sucked the cum out of his big boy nuts. Once again his toes flicked a quick staccato, occasionally clenching from the increased itch and tickle on his fat glans, and his cuffed hands and fingers reaching futiley to grasp something that could help him escape. "Oooooohhhhhh Jesus, OOOOOOOHHHHHHH MY GOD...NNNNNNOOOOOOO, NNNOOOO, OH FUCK, OH CHRIST...AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHH, HELP ME, HELP ME...OOOOO MY GODDD!" Once again the cameras flashed and the video whirred, snapping the images of the handsome young man glistening in perspiration and seeding the cylinder with his copious spunk.
After the third and final explosion of gism into the tantalizing machine, Dean fainted. But before he did, he clenched his toes tight and closed his fist and wailed long and hard from the exquisite torture of his sticky, fat knob one last time. He almost tipped over his bondage cage from the violence of his physical exertions, but it was designed to take the efforts of big boys whose penises were the captive prizes of other men, used for the pleasure and satisfaction of others. But Dean had also achieved his ambition...one he would never acknowledge to others. He wanted his penis ruthlessly and mercilessly teased by the mechanical monster, his asshole ravaged and violated by the electronic vibrator, bound and helpless to stop the use of his big prick. Every ejaculation had driven him to near insanity, and every ejaculation was what he secretly craved and needed. Fuck what would his girl think...Christ...he could never tell her.
Dean's captor approached him after he had fainted bringing some smelling salts and a cool, wet face cloth to bring the young man back from oblivion. When he regained consciousness, the compressor was off and removed from his red, tender penis. Once again the fingers were introduced to his mouth with the admonition that if he bit down in any way, his balls would be given a painful spanking. They need not have worried, Dean was now a mindless animal...doing his master's bidding was all he could comprehend at the moment. As he sucked the fingers the man spoke:
"You're a piece of work Dean, and a piece of meat. Nature bred you to produce sperm, and like a good boy, you were a cum factory today. Boy's and men like you are bred to be used, and even as you squealed and begged like a silly cunt to be free...your big boy clit stayed stiff and sprayed cock snot over every centimeter of that cylinder. Shit, you like to cum boy, you like it a lot...and at least once a month you're gonna be strapped down and milked like this. You won't know when the date will be until almost the day...and you'll adjust your schedule to accommodate us...and you won't be allowed to cum for several days in advance. Fuck, you're lucky we're letting you enjoy your chick's pussy. Yeah, you're gonna be a good dog and do everything we tell you. And you know why? Cause we have every detailed photo of you that will go to your family and the guys you work with on construction if you don't cooperate. What do you think those guys would think...they'd make you the crew cunt and you'd be fucked and used on a regular basis. Now, you can't have that Dean...so you'll cooperate, 100%. On the days when you join us, you're gonna learn to be humble and every part of your body will learn to perform."
Dean's eyes did not open as the man spoke, but as each word registered in his brain, his penis gradually rose one last time, enough to cause his piss lips to open and some cock drool to drip to the floor below him. Dean had finally discovered the balance he needed, the balance between his everyday life with his girl, his buds, and work, and the other part of his life that had been missing...the part that involved the use and teasing of his beautiful big prick.
The next time Dean visited this house, he was bound on his back, ankles to wrists, with a spreader bar holding his legs apart and over his body. Once again he had a vibrating prod inserted in his anus but this time with its own little compressor that telescoped the dildo in and out of his gripping, hungry rectum. Once again, the sucking compressor was affixed to his turgid erection and his fat glans, but this time an attachment in the roof of the cylinder added to Dean's experience. A horse hair brush that rotated rested at the top of the cylinder, so that when the compressor sucked it down it triggered the horsehair cap to spin around and tickle his fat glans and corona. Part of magic of this addition was a viscous fluid compound that produced an incredible itch on the skin surface. Once there, the steady leak of pre-fuck, with the lubricant provided by the device itself, kept the itch going until the device was removed. Dean howled and laughed insanely, tickled mercilessly by the grazing of his glans and corona by the Venus device, along with the maddening tickling of the bristles over and around his fat glans. Once again attended by his host, his nipples and ears licked and scratched, his big feet bristled with firm bristle brushes and electric toothbrushes added to his sensations, all drove Dean to nuclear ejaculations. Once again, his brain short-circuited and turned him into a babbling, crazed cum producer. It was amazing and brilliant to watch, and his captor invited discreet men like himself who paid handsomely to see the young buck milked, and milked, and milked.
Dean is a more disciplined boy these days. He's focused at work rather than just wasting time joking and fooling around with the other guys at the construction sites. He's also keeping in shape, and he is sharper and more thoughtful. He and his girl friend are thinking of marriage, one more step towards stability and order in his life. Folks are not quite sure what has happened to him. The devil-may-care guy who most often did things because they were fun, rather than because they were sensible, seems to be gone. No one knows why these changes have occurred, but everyone seems to think they are for the better. What they do not know is that once a month Dean gets "treatment." His fiancé thinks they are chiropractic treatments for an old work injury. Dean told her it strengthens his back and makes him better able to fuck. She likes that. The guys at work don't even know he's getting them, though he's told them that he has doctor's appointments. But once per month, at varying times, Dean promptly and punctually makes his appointment. He always seems to come out of them chastened and refreshed, and more determined to follow his regimen. Now when Dean fucks his girl, there is an extra thrust in his legs, and stiffness in his prick. And there are nights when they don't fuck, that as he lies facing away from her, on his stomach, his prick goes stiff in his pajama bottoms, and he hardens against the bedding and his piss lips spread to leak their sticky, sex drool. Only Dean knows why all these changes have occurred, but he never speaks of them.
There are also times when he is driving to a job site and his cock stiffens as the big bike he is driving throbs beneath him, or at night when he grinds his fat boner into the sheets, or when his glans is in the stranglehold of his girl-friend's clasping pussy, his thoughts may stray. It's at those moments he knows that once a month the deep need he has will be satisfied, and it allows him to set his course straight. The years of searching for the regular "treatment" his thick, stiff, sticky boner needs are over. Now he is able to release himself into the care of others, men who know what he needs, and without restraint or restriction they subject his firm, muscular body to every means of sexual stimulation they can conceive, but to one end, the complete mechanical milking and teasing of his raging prick. Once a month he can surrender control and know and feel the satisfaction of not having to find on his own relief and the subordination he so desperately requires.
Dean no longer does the foot gigs. He's got a different "Dean's List" now. In some sense, Dean finally made the "Dean's List" himself; he is a complete man. There are many men and boys across America and the world who need to be on a "Dean's List", who need the management and supervision of their raging pricks on a regular basis that frees them to have an ordered and disciplined life. Dean does not masturbate without permission, and his ejaculations are either in his fiancé's pussy or at his treatments. His cum builds up, but he knows the day will come each month without fail that it will be drained from him mercilessly and completely. How many men would wish they could be as fortunate as Dean?
Completed July 26, 2009