This story was previously published in the High School section but has been edited for the Authoritarian section, where it works better. With my American reader's help, the text was shortened, some characters disappeared, and aspects of D/s were reinforced. Readers of the original story should notice the new material. For those who haven't, please skip the old version to avoid spoilers. Chapters will be published weekly.
Please provide me your feedback if you would like me to add to this story or write another one.
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MAKING ME THEIR LITTLE BITCH -- 1
It was summer. Paulo, my best buddy, and nearby neighbor was out of town. Alone at home, I listened to music, watched TV, jerked off at least twice a day, rode my bike, and read. My mother, who worked in a big furniture store selling furniture and giving customers decorating advice, didn't have much time for me. Without Paulo to hang out with, I was concerned that this would be another summer spent alone.
On that sunny day, after about one hour riding around aimlessly, I stopped to rest under an old tree, a place where I had often done this before. It was a good place to sneak a peek at the boys that passed by on their way to the local lake. Near the tree started the main trail that led through the forest preserve that sheltered the lake, about three miles from town. Some of the boys wore shorts, others just speedos. They were always shirtless, whether on foot or by bike.
At fourteen, I'd never had sex, but thought about it all the time. What was uncomfortable for me and made me uneasy, was that many of my sexual fantasies were about boys. Afraid at being labeled a fag, the worst thing that could happen to a teenager in my school and neighborhood, I never talked about it to anyone.
The tree was the endpoint for me. I couldn't go onto the trail. My mom said that the lake was a dangerous place, and I should never go there unaccompanied by adults.
That day, sitting on the ground, I was so engrossed in the observation of a noisy, tan, and hot group of soccer players, hoarding fuel for my fantasies, that I didn't even notice his approach. I only noticed his presence as he stood in front of me, as his legs cut off my vision.
"Hi," he said, looking down.
After the legs, smooth and strong, the first thing that I saw was a pair of snug blue shorts and a bulge, a remarkable bulge. Other than his shorts, he only wore his sneakers.
"Hi," I replied, looking up, struggling to unglue my eyes from his package.
I recognized him. Although we'd never been introduced, I'd seen him at school and even knew his name or nickname, Nico.
It was impossible not to see him. He was a tall and handsome boy, two or three years older than me. He had dirty blonde hair, crew-cut, with light green eyes. He hung out regularly with three or four other boys. I'd heard stories about them always getting into trouble and being real jerks to smaller or weaker classmates. They were classic school badasses.
I had mixed feelings about them. They both scared me, and attracted me, especially Nico. I studied him from a distance at every opportunity. He had strength and self-confidence, almost cockiness about him that I found oddly arousing.
Without any kind of introduction, as if he knew I would know who he was, he got right to the point. He asked if I could give him a ride to the lake.
Was this a joke? He didn't have a bike, but that had never stopped him from going anywhere. Why did he want a ride now?
"Are you for real?" I asked.
"Yes, for real. It's hotter than hell."
I stood still for a few seconds before asking, "And your friends?"
"They went early. They're waiting for us. Let's go," he answered with confidence.
There was something strange about that conversation. The implied familiarity between himself and his friends, and me was odd, and now he was saying that they were `waiting for us'. What the fuck was that?
"I can't," I said, hoping to put an end to our small talk.
"You can't do what?" He asked.
"I can't go to the lake," I answered, turning my face aside to avoid his gaze.
"Why not? Your friends are gone and you're not doing anything now."
"How do you know that?"
"You haven't answered me yet. Why not?"
"My mom. She doesn't allow me to go there."
"Why?"
"Well ... She has her reasons."
"What fucking reasons?"
Why did he ask so many questions? I was ashamed to admit that my mother was overprotective and had complete control over me.
"Mom thinks it's a dangerous place."
"Dangerous?" He asked, grimacing as if he found what I'd said absurd.
"Not safe," I tried to explain.
He was silent for a few seconds as I stared at his feet. Big feet. Then he reached into his shorts, to arrange his penis and balls, took a step forward, and sat next to me, sticking his thigh against mine.
"Look at me, dude," he said. "Are you telling me that you've never gone to the lake? At fourteen?"
"Never," I replied, looking away and trying to imagine how he knew my age.
Putting his hand on my knee and squeezing lightly, as if to hold my attention, he said, in that husky and deep voice some boys gain at puberty, along with body growth and boiling cauldrons of testosterone, "It's time to change that. Coincidentally, I need a ride and you need to meet the lake. We can help each other."
"I don't know... And what about my mom?"
"Fuck! What does your mother have to do with it?"
"But...."
"No buts, dude," he interrupted, abruptly annoyed. "I don't want to hear any more about mommy. What am I doing here? And what are you? A little kiddy? Grow up. I'm giving you a chance."
What chance? I didn't ask for anything and I didn't like his tone. It felt like bullying. I should've told him that he had no right to talk to me like that. I should've told him to go to hell or anything else. Better alone than in bad company. But the words never came, and, to make matters worse, I started getting horny from the heat of his thigh, and imaginary or not, the smell of the hand he'd slipped into his shorts.
I think he realized my discomfort and, probably afraid I'd turn around and walk away, tried to calm me down by saying, "Hey relax, dude. Take it easy... I'm just thinking about us. You and me. You'll be safe with me. It's going to be a secret among friends. Your mom doesn't need to know everything."
He finished by standing up, and extending his hand out to help me up, and raising his eyebrow in such a friendly way that I dismissed his earlier attitude and thought he wouldn't do me any harm.
"Let's go. Friends?" he asked.
I nodded, grabbed his hand to stand up, and turned to the side to hide my growing boner. Apparently pleased, he told me that because he was bigger and stronger, he would pedal. I could ride on the crossbar of my own bike. That was a comedown, riding the crossbar when it was my own bicycle. That never happened.
He also told me to take off my tank top, warning me that the forest at this time of year was nothing but humidity and heat. Finally, he again straightened out his package in his tight shorts, seeming to have serious trouble accommodating everything that was in there.
When we started rolling, he leaned forward, covering the back side of my body. Surrounded by his arms, chest, legs, warmth, and scent, I regretted what I'd just done. I should never have gone with him, I said to myself.
I started to get nervous, afraid of meeting someone I knew, someone who would tell my mother, someone who would ask why I was with Nico, a notorious bad boy. My greatest fear, however, was exposing to Nico my deep and secret desires.
I was drawn out of that wave of dark thoughts as he left the main trail, turned right, and took a secondary trail, narrower, more rugged. The bike started shaking, as well as our bodies, which were bumping, touching, and rubbing.
In the beginning, it was involuntary, but, little by little, his advances surely became on purpose. With each bump, his torso edged further forward, and he brought his face close to the side of mine. I could feel his breath on my face.
At some point in this game, in which he was moving forward, and I was trying to escape, a stronger bounce - perhaps purposeful - shook my body backwards, and I felt it. He was getting a hardon.
I tried to return to my previous position, but he blocked my movement by using my shoulder to support his right hand. It seemed like a normal gesture as if he needed extra support or balance, but from the exaggerated strength of his downward pressure I knew that it was to immobilize me.
"Hang tight," I said to myself, trying to calm myself down while afraid to annoy him. "Soon we will reach the lake and you will be rid of him. Act normal, act normal!" But what would a normal person do here?
To show that everything was fine, I adjusted my torso back, until I pressed my skin to his sweat-covered chest. He understood my acquiescence and returned his right hand to the bike, bending his body forward more.
It was not a good idea. I began again to feel his breath on my face, his hard nipples rubbing up against my back, and above all, his dick, moving up and down and growing. And then, while repeating to myself that soon everything would end, I started to lose control of my thoughts. I was afraid to touch his body, but at the same time, I wanted to be touched by him, every one of those muscles that enveloped me and bulged with his every movement.
My mind demanded that I scream, say something to stop this dirty trick, but my body wouldn't react, threatening to give in more and more.
I'm not sure, but I think I let out a moan as he brushed his lips to my ear. I'd never even imagined that part of my body could be so sensitive or that a pair of lips could make me shiver so hard.
Everything was new to me. It wasn't just the ear. My whole body was ignited, inch by inch, nerve by nerve. It was getting harder and harder to hold back my short gasps. I didn't want him to know that was enjoying it.
He drew back from me and stopped the bike.
Why was that? Had he heard my gasps? Was he angry? I blamed myself.
When I turned around, I saw him looking down, hands in his shorts, and could hardly believe my eyes, almost half of that fucking thing had slipped out of his shorts leg.
"It's always trying to escape", he said, quietly, as if that was the most common thing in the world, as if it were something that grew and went out into the world on its own.
With his index finger, he pulled the fabric back as if to make room, as if he was trying to put it back, or just pretending, because there was no rush in his movements, no worries about hiding anything. It seemed that he was moving slowly to give me a better view of his member and more time to capture my attention. And he succeeded. From the first moment, I couldn't look away.
His pecker was uncut, and being hard, the foreskin moved backward, exposing the head. Soft pink in color, it was covered in precum and glistened, looking swollen.
Still trying to return it to his shorts, or just pretending to do so, he wrapped his hand around the middle and squeezed it. A dewy drop slid in slow motion from the piss slip to the glans.
I had the impression that in the next instant he would expose more of his gorgeous member. That's what I secretly expected, or wanted, but I was wrong. As hard as he tried to catch my attention, he was careful not to display the whole thing.
I didn't understand, but I was getting more anxious, wanting to see more, the full erection, the base of his penis, which I imagined thicker than the top, as well his balls, and his pubic hairs.
When I raised my head, looking for an answer on Nico's face, I froze. His eyes were inside mine. Scrutinizing me.
I didn't know how long I'd been staring at his engorged tube throbbing a few inches from my fingers, just as I didn't know how long he'd been watching me.
"What do you think?" He said in that deep voice. "Have you ever seen one so big?"
Caught in the act, I was speechless.
"It's big, isn't it?" He added.
That wasn't a question. Everything about him seemed pure certainty.
He threw his hip forward. It was so close that I could smell it, an elusive, heavy, and warm smell. Something like a pungent perfume.
"Would you like to see the whole thing? I'll show you if you want," he said.
His voice seemed huskier than ever. Why was he suggesting this to me? Why did he tease me? Did he suspect anything?
Although confused, I realized that if I didn't stop Nico, he'd be crossing a line. Until that moment I could have indulged the excuse that all that friction on the bike, though charged with undeniable horniness, had been involuntary. Or that he'd taken advantage of me from my vulnerable position. But now it would be a new frontier. If I did what he was asking, I would be revealing things that I should never reveal.
"C'mon, boy, do you want to see the whole thing or not? It's up to you," he insisted, squeezing, and pointing his member at me.
At this moment we heard voices and, twisting right, saw in the distance a group of boys walking towards us.
"Too bad, you missed the opportunity," he said, finally putting his tool inside his shorts and resuming his position on the bicycle.
On the contrary, I thought, fully relieved. I had been saved by the bell.
That wasn't the end of my affliction, however. As soon as he started pedaling and we got away from the boys, everything started again. I felt his body coming down over me and his cock slipped out of the shorts once more.
"You have cool hair, boy," he whispered, his tongue, accidentally-on-purpose, touching my earlobe. Again, that touch of the tongue had a tremendous effect on me. I shivered. "And you smell so good."
I'm not sure, but I think he said that just to disguise a quick movement of his right hand behind me. When it was over, I felt something different.
Wait! Wait! This time it wasn't just the head. Nico's dick was fully free, out of the shorts. I could feel it all against my back. Skin against skin, the viscosity spreading more widely. What was this? A precum factory?
At first, I found it disgusting and decided to react or at least stay still. But my body, which again seemed to take orders from a different place, started to move from side to side, back and forth, sensing the warmth, the pressure of his dick getting harder, still growing.
Nico, in turn, was repositioning, arranging his dick, head up. I could even feel his balls moving inside the scrotum.
During the following minutes, he kept himself in action all the time, up and down, right, and left, groaning slightly each time our bodies collided. I could tell he was on the verge of something, and I couldn't stop it, couldn't control his actions.
This went on for a while till I heard him grunt and felt his dick grow as if it were going to explode.
He abruptly stopped the bike again, saying, "Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Oh, fuck!"
What now?! I was trying to understand, but there was no time. With his strong legs open, his feet firmly planted on the ground and his left hand on my neck, while the right held my shoulder, he thrust his cock forward and squirmed as he shot his first volley. I felt the heat of his cum hit the skin of my lower back.
Still keeping me immobilized and at his mercy, he kept on cumming, pumping volley after volley of that thick goo, draining his cum, discharging the load until there was no more to shoot.
Then he let out a long, deep moan of pure pleasure, dropped his arms, and rested his chin on my shoulder, relaxing, sharing the heat of his sweaty body, sliding in his own cum.
He stood still for a few minutes until his dick became soft, wiped it on my back, and told me to dismount.
With his dick already back inside his shorts, he pointed to a third trail, narrow and steep, that led down to the lake, and said, "That's the trail my friends and I use to reach our secret place on the lake. If you want to get in the water and clean yourself, leave the bike here."
Clean myself? When he said that, I became fully aware of the goo on my back, waist, and hip.
"You're dumbass!" I said to myself, "Get out of here."
"Are you coming or not?" He asked, handing me the bike, and walking toward the trail, quietly, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just used me.
"I don't have a bathing suit," I answered.
"Don't give me that crap. We're among friends. Just go in your underwear or naked. You have a nice ass."
"I can't," I replied, blushing. "It's too late. My mom..."
"Your mommy? Again?" he said with rudeness.
Almost instantly, though, he seemed to regret it. He softened his voice and, with a sly smile hanging from his lips, said, "Ok, dude. Maybe next time. We still have a whole summer ahead. You and I can have a lot of fun together."
Next time? Only when pigs fly, I thought, as I left him behind.
I pedaled so furiously that I almost got lost. When I was able to return to the main trail, I stopped behind some bushes and used my tank top to wipe off a large amount of the cum that flowed from my back to the beginning of my buttocks. That's when I noticed my own boner and a broad spot of precum on my shorts.
Without a second thought, I advanced a little further into the woods until I found a more secluded place, and began to jack off, my teen testosterone urging me on and telling me it couldn't do anything else, until I had masturbated.
Nico's huge dick, so juicy, so hard, so demanding, and intimidating mobilized all my fantasies and energies, and, in a few seconds, I blew a massive load over my chest. A few jets even hit my neck and chin.