Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between teenage boys. If you find such material offensive or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't read any further.
(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
"High School Blues" part 5: Joe gets taken for a ride...
After getting over the shock of the obscene message printed on my backside, I had to try and figure out how to get it off. I stared at myself in the mirror. I had to fight off the perverse thought that I should leave it on: it kind of marked me as Mike's and Jimmy's property. At that moment my cock started throbbing and I had a mind-blowing orgasm right on the bathrom floor. Once my cock had cooled down, I began to think again about how degrading that message was, printed right on my body. Why would just thinking about it give me an orgasm?
I thought that the best thing to do was to have a good long soak in a hot tub-with some clorox (just kidding)-so that it would be easier to wipe off the marks. After I got into the tub, I was once again a jumble of emotions. As I thought about Jimmy and Mike stripping me, flipping me over on my stomach, and then writing their message on my unconscious body, my cock began to rise again and even to breach the surface of the soapy water. After they finished their 'composition' they must have rolled me around in the mud, maybe to conceal their work.
I began to wonder, too, about my wrist watch. I had thought earlier that I might have lost it in the mud. Now I began to suspect that one of my new 'friends' had taken it from my arm while I was asleep. Even that thought was making me horny. They had thoroughly taken advantage of me, first getting me high on drugs, then extracting a promise from me that I would pay them tribute every week, and finally showing their contempt for me by putting their degrading graffiti on my body, stealing my watch, and rolling me in the mud. They must have really gotten off from treating me like the wimp that I was. Suddenly my cock erupted again, right in the bathtub. I was totally amazed as I saw a white fountain of cum rocket from my cock. It was so powerful I thought it might hit the ceiling (hey, anything is possible!) After my cock was drained, it slowly disappear beneath the surface of the water, leaving a creamy blob of white cum floating and quickly dissipating in the soap suds. I looked down and laughed: "You still with me?"
I finally resolved that I had to get the marks off my back and ass. I couldn't show up in gym class again and be subject to the mockery of my classmates. As it was, they probably wouldn't let me forget it for a long time to come. What would they do if I showed up with my "tattoo" again? A wash cloth and soap didn't do the job. Next I got a soft scrub pad-I certainly wasn't going to use steel wool-and gently rubbed in circles across my back and butt. It took some effort. Magic Marker isn't that easy to get off, especially when it was used in such generous amounts. I scrubbed and scrubbed. By the time I got most of it off my skin was red and raw. I thought that I would do it one more time in the morning before school. That should do the trick.
I was right. After my second soft scrub bath, the marks were completely gone, to be replaced by bright red patches of stinging flesh. I carefully put some soothing aloe lotion on the affected areas, which helped to reduce the pain. I decided to wear boxers rather than briefs that day to minimize contact between the material and my ass. Thank god I didn't have gym that day. I didn't think I could show my face there for at least a couple of years.
I was dreading my arrival at school that day. How many guys had seen the spectacle yesterday in the gym, and how many others had they told? I steeled myself for the mockery as I got on the bus that lumbered off to make the other pickups before the final stop at school. Fortunately, Terry hadn't heard anything about yesterday's incident-not yet, at least. He didn't have gym class with me. I knew that he would eventually find out through the school grape vine, but hopefully it wouldn't affect our friendship. I would tell him it was a practical joke like those 'Kick Me' signs that everybody got stuck on their backs at some point during school-usually by friends.
I saw Jimmy, Mike, and Phil in the cafeteria at lunch but they just ignored me. I was happy enough that they left me alone, since I was eating with Terry and Bob. More and more I relied on their friendship to get me through this nightmare. They spoke more definitely about the soccer team and starting my training. They wanted me to exercise with them twice a week at Bob's home. He had an exercise room with a complete set of weights and machines. I told them about my job at the grocery store that sometimes kept me out in the evenings, but they said that it was okay, and that we could work out a schedule. I couldn't believe they were taking so much interest in me. It seemed like they genuinely cared about me. But something told me to be cautious; after all, look what happened with my other 'friends'...
After school, Jimmy and Mike cornered me and invited me to go over to Mike's house and hang around for awhile. His folks were seldom home since both had to work long hours, and Mike was often on his own. Even though it was an 'invitation' I didn't feel it would be good for me to say no. As we walked over to Mike's house through the woods (!) I couldn't help but notice that Mike wore a wrist watch identical to the one I had lost. He wore it quite openly and even seemed to make a special effort that I see it. I was going to ask him where he got it when I froze again. I was afraid he would say that I was accusing him of stealing it, and use that as an excuse to start a fight. Nevertheless, I was sure it was my watch and that he was, indeed, the thief.
Mike's folks had a rambling old house at the end of a block surrounded by woods. It was set back off the road with a large open field behind it. I saw a couple of dirt bikes in the driveway. Mike told me that he and Jimmy and their friends rode around the field which had some well-worn runs as well as ramps-some natural and some that the fellows had build up-where they could become airborn. "It's really rad man; you wanna try?"
I told them that I had never riden a dirt bike before and wouldn't know what to do.
"Come on, Zit-Man, it's easy. Don't pussy out on us. Phil and the other guys are comin' over a little later with their bikes. We can do a real motocross race."
Mention of the other guys coming around had me a bit nervous. I didn't like the looks of them. They seemed to be pretty rough. Still, I started to sprout a boner again, thinking about all those hot looking dudes in their motorcycle gear roaring around the field. I guess I could at least watch.
"Tell you what Zit-Man, you can ride on the back of my bike the first time. That way you'll get the feel of it without taking any chances of a crash. Besides if you bang up my bike you'll be payin' for it in more ways than one."
If he was so afraid I was going to damage his precious bike, why did he want me to ride it? Besides he seemed more concerned that the bike would get damaged than that I might get hurt. Well, if I did ride I would have to be real careful. No fancy moves or jumps. We went through the house to a large screened in porch which faced the field. I saw a swimming pool off to the side of the house. Jimmy and Mike stripped down right in front of me, putting on their gear over their muscular bodies. My eyes darted back and forth. I tried not to be obvious as I checked out those two hunks. I hoped they didn't notice.
"Shit it's hot today" complained Jimmy. "I could sure use a beer." Mike brought one for each of them. He must of figured automatically that I didn't drink beer since he didn't offer me one. I thought about the tequela they had given me so quickly yesterday...
Both of them asked me to help them with their boots. My boner was getting bigger as I knelt in front of Mike and helped him slip into his mud encrusted boots and strap them tight for him. When I looked up at Mike, who towered over me, he had a contemptuous smirk on his face that for some reason got my cock even harder. Had he noticed it? If so, he gave no sign.
Then I did the same for Jimmy, crawling across the floor, picking up his boots and getting him into them. He told me to sit in a chair and put each boot into my lap as I strapped him up, leaving mud tracks all over my clean pants. I could have sworn that he brushed each boot over my crotch as he brought it down to the floor. Then he winked at me, and went inside to get his helmet and gloves. Meanwhile Mike offered me a Coke which I took without hestitation this time since it was an unopened pop-top can.
Jimmy explained that the reason they had asked me to help them out every week was because they had their eyes on some better bikes. The ones they had now were old and in constant need of repair. The new ones were more powerful and came with extended warrantees. A friend of theirs owned the local motorcycle shop and had promised them a discount if they gave him some cash up front. That, of course, didn't make me feel any better about forking over my hard earned money to them every week!
Just then I heard a distant roar that grew louder and louder. "Here come those assholes," Mike said with a smile.
I broke out in a sweat, not knowing what to expect. I almost wished I had more of that tequela to calm me down right about now.
I saw the other bikers appear around the corner of the house. There were four of them that I recognized: Phil, Carl, Stew, and Brad, plus two other guys who I later found out were Tod and Shawn. The guys pretty much ignored me at first as they shot the bull, and lit up some smokes. Mike brought a large cooler filled with beer out onto the porch.
Hey, what's the Zit-Man doing here?" Phil said to Mike. "Do ya have a four wheeler here for him?"
Everybody laughed, including me (what the hell!) and Mike said: "Hey, don't knock the Zit. I asked him over, and I'm gonna show him how to ride. Actually he's pretty cool."
I was amazed to get that compliment from Mike and started to relax a bit. After that the other guys started to treat me okay even though they didn't have too much to say to me. They were mostly talking about sports, which girls they had fucked, and the bikes they wished they had.
Finally Jimmy said: "Yo, let's cut this shit and get down to business. You fuckers ready to ride? You're gonna get your asses handed to you!"
Everybody started to shout and punch each other in the shoulders. All the guys banged out the screen door and headed for their bikes. Helmets and gloves were put on and the riders gunned their motors. Just as I thought they had forgotten me (much to my relief) Mike yelled for me to get my ass on the back of his bike and grab the extra helmet. Since the seat was so small I was jammed against Mike's tight ass and muscular back which I could feel through the leather. The smell of warm leather and hard muscle started my cock to stiffen. So did the sight of his long brown hair sticking out from under his helmet, and starting to curl and drip with sweat. I had to strongly focus on willing my cock to go down, because I knew that, being this close to Mike, he would be able to feel everything.
"Okay Zits," Mike shouted, "Let's roll. This should be cool; I've never had a passenger before. Hope you don't fall off. Grab me around the waist."
Holding Mike, of course, made things that much worse since I could feel his hard, flat stomach through his suit. I was losing the battle to control my cock. It was getting stiffer and stiffer in spite of my fear of both Mike's reaction and the dangers of the ride. Luckily when we took off and started racing across the field my nerves caused my cock to shrink dramatically. The other guys were racing in all directions, getting warmed up for the contest. Some raced up the ramps made out of mounds of earth and flew out into space. Suddenly Mike was gunning for one of those mounds. When he hit the top and lost contact with the ground I screamed and tightened my hold on Mike. I could hear him laughing and whooping it up.
About ten minutes later he asked me if I was ready to try on my own. I said that I had enough and would watch the rest. He laughed again and said I could stand off to the side with a tattered old flag and swing it to indicate when the race should start. Then he hollered for the other guys to line up. Apparently they had done this before and knew the length and direction of the run. Whoever got back to where I was standing first, won the pot-everyone had put in five bucks (some of which, no doubt, was mine!).
I swung the flag, feeling somewhat important, and they all took off. The roar was deafening but the scene was fascinating as the hunky cyclists performed what looked to me like really dangerous maneuvers. Some fell but got themselves right up and got going again. Mike was pretty much consistently in the lead followed closely by Tod and Phil. Jimmy, however, was tailing them closely and made his move toward the end of the race. He crowded out the other two guys and came in second after Mike. Standing by the finish line I was left in a cloud of dust. At that point Mike said it was time to cool off with a few brews and some munchies.
All of the guys were sweaty and dirty when they trooped onto the porch. They picked up their beers, collapsed into the various lounge chairs, and started tipping up the bottles. Most of them propped their big booted feet on the tables. When Mike came back he said:
"Hey, dudes, it's too hot to keep up this shit. Who wants to go for a swim?" Everyone shouted in agreement that they wanted to cool off in the pool.
"Man, I'm so wiped out," said Shawn. "I don't even feel like takin' this damn gear off."
"Not a problem, my man," said Jimmy. "Our friend Zits here is an expert workin' with boots. He put mine and Mike's on for us like a pro right before you dudes got here. "Hey, Zits," he said. "Help these studs get their boots off."
"Yeah," laughed Tod, "they're so muddy I don't even want to touch them. Get over here Zits."
"Hey," Shawn protested, "I got first dibs. I asked for it first!"
"Zits," Mike said smiling, "Take care of Shawn first and then do Tod. After that you can do the rest of us. We got no swim suits dudes, so you'll have to swim in the raw. That a problem for anyone?"
"Nah," said Phil. "We've all seen each other before in the showers. Except maybe Zits. I hear he had kind of hard time after gym class the other day. Everybody howled as they waited for me to get their muddy motorcycle boots off so they could get in the pool.
I knelt down in front of Shawn who was grinning down at me between swigs of his beer. He placed his muddy boot firmly on my chest while I unbuckled the straps. Then he pushed against me with the other boot as I pulled the first one off. I fell over backwards as the boot slid off, which made everyone laugh again.
"Careful Zits," Shawn chuckled, "or you'll damage the merchandise".
I went from one guy to another until my shirt and pants were solidly caked with mud. A couple of the guys as a joke stuck their boot in my face saying that the mud was good for my zits and would help clear them up. Brad had me take off his smelly athletic socks, but not before sticking them in my face.
"The smell of those stinky things will probably kill those zits," Jimmy howled.
"Fuck you," Brad said, "I think our little friend here likes that smell. Looks like he's got a boner."
I could have died. I did have a boner. Once again my cock was out of control and as a result of the most humiliating acts.
"Maybe he's got the hots for you, dude." Mike said. "I know he almost drilled a hole in my suit when he was sitting behind me on my bike."
"Yeah, well maybe you liked it," Brad shot back. Everyone started laughing as Mike jumped Brad and they wrestled on the floor. Mike came out on top and made Brad apologize before he would let him up. Then they all stripped off the rest of their gear and ran for the pool. Mike stood there naked in front of me with his hands on his hips and said:
"Well, Crawford, I guess we all know now which way you swing. That ride you took with me on the bike was a little test just to make sure. Now listen up: When we get back from swimming, we're gonna play a little game that I'm sure you'll enjoy. So stick around." It was definitely an order. "Oh, and have fun with our gear. As a matter of fact, why don't you clean all them boots that you seem to like so much. There's some rags in the closet down the hall and a buffing brush. Get all that mud off them. I'm gonna inspect 'em when I get back. See ya later Zits."
With that he ran out the door, his tight ass flexing, and canon-balled into the pool.
(to be continued)