This is the boring prefix.
This story is fiction and contains quite explicitly described sex scenes between males. Should this offend you, may I take the opportunity to question your sanity. This is after all the sixth chapter and you are still punishing yourself.
For those poor souls who suffer from the horrors of Political Correctness please stop right here. Proceeding beyond this point may cause you to have an attack of apoplexy
For those of you who are under age and reading this, don't try any of this at home. Well, not without parental guidance at least.
Comments and criticism are welcomed at the Email address mentioned. Flames however will incur the "Curse of the Internet" which causes your account name and password to be plastered across every hacker's newsgroup on the web.
I am indebted to RH, who helped me on the last two parts, by healing split infinitives and so many punctuation corrections that I had to go out and buy a whole box of commas.
Of Pussy Cats, Policemen And Role-players.
The sound of a bell woke me. It would not stop ringing. Finally I heard John hit the alarm clock. From there he proceeded to drain my bladder, as I was too tired to put up any resistance. I managed to get in the shower alone while he retrieved his toothbrush and razor from the guest bathroom. However I must admit it is difficult to shave while a fuckable young boy sucks on your cock. In the end, tired or not, I had to fuck him. I have never had a fuck on a cold tiled floor, but that's where he got what he was asking for.
Breakfast went smoothly and I packed both copies of the job output for Digby in the car. I was still nervous about losing it. Tinker wanted to sleep in. I envied him, but I drove John to school then went on to meet Digby.
He was delighted to see me and over the moon about the work. I made my excuses and left. I got home about 10:30, set the alarm and went back to bed. One nice thing about being in the middle of nowhere, you can sleep without interruption.
Well, not exactly. Another bell woke me, the telephone bell. I glanced at the clock and discovered it had rung just minutes before the alarm would have woken me anyway. I cancelled the alarm with my free hand.
On the phone was a very excited Digby. It seems that things could not have gone better. The sun now shone out of his chubby little ass. His predecessor was going to have his nuts in a vice for screwing things up then running. And, last but not least, not only was I getting the rest of the contract, I was being put forwards as a "preferred vendor" to his American company's parent conglomerate. If this came through, I would have it made. As it was the commission alone would make more than I had made in the entire previous year. I was indeed a happy camper.
The next week went quickly. I soon got into the routine of having a lover. It was nice having sex on tap where and when I wanted it. On Saturday Max phoned. He wanted to use the Dungeon, for a bit of discipline, he said. However he had car problems and could I pick them up.
So John and I drove up to Max's house, the door opened and Max came out, in his full leather gear. A large American Negro sailor dressed in his whites closely followed him. John gasped, as well he might. They made strange couple, one white man all in black, and one black man all in white. The American was introduced as Leroy. He came across as a quiet, well-educated, Mild-mannered man. I should point out that although I am dark skinned, Leroy was black. In fact next to him I looked like a white guy.
We drove home in more or less silence and the pair of them went downstairs. I would not let John go with them alone and I really did not want to know what they were getting up to down there. John did a bit of whining but I was quite firm.
Everything was nice and quiet, we were watching the TV, Tinker asleep on my knee, not a care in the world. Then just before 9pm Tinker shot off my knee and screamed at John. Instantly we moved to the Dungeon as the chime sounded twice.
An interesting sight met our eyes. The frame had been moved off stage centre and replaced by a rack. Spread-eagled, buck-naked on the rack was Leroy, held there under tension by wrist and ankle cuffs. He was covered in sweat, had a gag in his mouth and was sporting a raging erection.
Despite our haste I was forced to stop and do a double take on that erection. I have seen lots of cocks; big, small, fat, thin and ones that curve but this was one that I had never seen before.
It was a large, coal black, circumcised cock, but it reminded me of a cobra about to strike. It came straight up from his groin heading for the roof then just before the head it made a right-angled turn so the slit was pointing at his feet. As it turned downwards it sort of flattened out and became very wide for the duration of the curve. Shit if you could ever get that thing inside you it would be like being fisted.
"We have a problem. The police are about to raid the place. John is under-age and must not be found here. So he'll have to stay down here with you. Harm one hair on his furry little body, Max, and you're a dead man. Oh, and keep the noise down," I said hurriedly.
Leroy began to react the moment the word "police" passed my lips. He struggled with his bonds, his eyes rolled and was trying to shout through the gag. I believe that the American Navy does not approve of its enlisted men being found in such circumstances by the police. However he was not in any position to do anything to help or hinder things.
"Oh, I'm sure he'll come in useful again," Max said, grinning evilly. I growled at him.
I grabbed the toothbrush and razor and dashed upstairs, then got down to the front door in time to meet my visitors. Tinker accompanied me. There was no rain but there was the dull rumble of thunder in the distance as the same trio got out of the cars and walked over.
"Ah, good evening gentlemen," I said, "And how is your head, Inspector?"
There was now a plaster on the side of the Inspector's head.
"Healing nicely thank you, and if you would control that animal of yours," he said pointing down at Tinker, "I would be grateful."
"Tinker!" I called, tapping my shoulder, he jumped up and snuggled against my ear. The search of the house was completely fruitless and the Inspector now decided to look over the outbuildings. We all went out the door and across the yard. We almost made it when there was a blinding flash of lightning and, a second later, a deafening peal of thunder. The lights flickered and failed, plunging us into total darkness, and I do mean total, you could not see your hand in front of your face.
"Everyone stand still." I ordered, "The emergency generators will start in less than thirty seconds."
The powers that be had brilliantly placed the substation for the area on a hilltop. There it acted line a magnet for lightning bolts. These in turn caused very messy power failures, which computers no not like one little bit. So I had fitted a no-break supply and backup a diesel generator.
In my mind's eye I could see the sequence of events taking place. The motor-generator set had a flywheel between them. This would have enough energy to keep the generator turning and provide power to the critical circuits, the computer and a few lights, one being in the Dungeon. Meanwhile the auto-start on the diesel backup would be kicking in. Once the diesel was up to speed power would be restored to everything.
Now either the Inspector did not like being given orders by a civilian, or he was frightened of the dark. He began wandering around and bumping into things. I told him again to stand still and was rewarded by the clatter of something being knocked over. A second later there was the scream of a man in pain. The lights began glowing dimly and then brightened.
When I bought the place it was a working farm. It had all the tools and equipment that a farm normally uses. There was even an old tractor and some implements in one shed. The hand tools, I left where they were, to give the place atmosphere. One of these tools was called a "hay rake". This is a three-pronged rake. The prongs are bent at right angles to the shaft like a regular rake but each is about nine inches long and comes to wickedly sharp point.
It would appear that the Inspector had first knocked this over and then trodden on it. He was now sitting on the ground with the middle prong sticking out of the instep of his shoe. Judging by the other prongs the middle one was at least an inch into his instep. His screams tended to confirm this.
Moving quickly the Sergeant grabbed his ankle and held it steady, I got a firm grip on the head of the rake and pulled it free. The Inspector informed the world that this action was painful. The other two helped him back towards the house while I ran on ahead to get the First Aid Kit.
It was a rather messy wound that we found, after we got his shoe and sock off. There was a lot of blood, which seemed to make the Inspector go quite white. When I told him he would require a tetanus shot he fainted. This allowed me to apply the iodine without causing him further pain.
"Er, I wish you hadn't mentioned that, Sir. The very thought of a needle does that to him. He passed out when they stitched up his head last time." said the Sergeant holding the foot steady while I got the bandage on.
"He isn't related to Inspector Clouseau of the Pink Panther fame, is he?" I inquired.
The Sergeant chuckled and said very quietly, "Oh I must tell the lads down the station that one."
Once more we got the Inspector into the car and with the Constable behind the wheel they set off to the hospital.
The Sergeant took off his cap and wiped his brow. He looked at me seriously for a moment before coming to a decision.
"You know he is not a local man, Sir. And he is overstepping the mark here. I shouldn't really tell you this, Sir, but if you were to complain he would have to stop harassing you." he said
"Oh, come along Sergeant. He just thinks he is doing his job. Besides you know the saying, `Give a man enough rope and he'll hang himself'." I said.
"I expect you're right Sir, thank you once more for your co-operation." he said as he got into the car and departed. For some reason I knew that the sergeant could see through me like I was made of glass. Which is why I waited until the chime sounded the second time before I went back down into the Dungeon.
The scene had changed little, Leroy still lay glistening with sweat immobilised on the rack, the only real difference was John, who was squatting on the rack doing an admirable job of getting his mouth round that impossible cock.
When I came into view the poor man took one look at me and began screaming into his gag. Clearly Max had him near the edge of his sanity. John looked at me and went white and Max said, "Where did all the blood come from?"
I suddenly realised that I should really have cleaned up before I came down. So as I began to wash it off I told them what had happened.
"What bad luck." said Max.
John gave a knowing snigger.
I rejoined Max by the rack. "What are you doing to this poor guy?" I asked.
"He had a problem about cuming too fast and we are teaching him to hold it back. He's doing not bad, considering your lad has had his mouth round that meat bone for the last thirty minutes or so." said Max with a grin, "Well, we are almost ready to pack it in for the night.
Then turning to his victim he asked, "You wanna cum?"
Leroy nodded vigorously. Turning to John he asked, "Reckon you can take him?"
John bounced off the rack and began stripping. Max obligingly slapped some Crisco on the rigid black pole that stuck up from the Negro's groin. Then he bent John over and greased him up too.
John straddled Leroy's groin and guided his shaft between his buns and slowly lowered himself until his ring was touching the top of the bend in the cock. He nodded to Leroy who gave a short thrust and the head shot up through John's ring. John screamed and went rigid. Everyone froze. Then with a sigh John relaxed and sank gently until he was about halfway down the shaft.
There was enough play on the rack for Leroy to move his hips and fuck him. The black hips began to thrust and the cock pistoned in and out of John's ring.
"Underage white ass seems to turn him on." remarked Max watching his victim thrust his way towards a climax.
Although Leroy was firmly gagged it was clear that he was getting there fast. I reached out and touched the bit of his cock that is just behind the balls. There I could feel the vessel that would carry his load on its way from his balls into my lover's guts. Suddenly I felt a stiffening as a wad of his jism raced past my fingers and on to its destination. I counted nine as they passed, then the main eruption was over. With a little help rubbing there I got him to shoot four more times.
As usual, John kept the poor man's cock until it was limp. Then he got off and went for it with his mouth. I could see the Negro fighting the urge as John put pressure on his bladder.
"You might as well let him have it because he'll get it in the end." I advised him.
But Leroy would not give up. His eyes were bulging and John was getting nowhere at the speed of light.
"Oh dear, Leroy is being a naughty boy, Leroy is." said Max. "You must learn not to resist Leroy, now I'll have to force you to do it."
Leroy began to thrash about as much as his bonds would let him, which was not a lot. I had a sick feeling in my guts as I watched Max walk over to the toy rack.
"Relax Nick, I'm not going to use thumb screws on him, just a bit of water torture. We should have him flowing in nothing flat." he had a nasty grin on his face as he spoke.
He produced one of the large Crisco cans. However it seems that previous romps had used up its contents and it was now just an empty can. He picked up the hose attachment and connected it to the shower, then turned on the water to a dribble. The sound of the water tinkling into the can could be heard.
Leroy really began to try to escape, but there was no way. Even I was having an urge to pee when the dam finally broke, things began to flow and John began to greedily drink from the weapon that had just fucked him.
"I never knew that you were into water sports." said Max.
"I'm not." I sighed, "but he is and it's getting on my nerves."
I was a bit worried what would come out when Max removed the gag. However his victim it appeared, after I removed all the "fuckings" and other obscenities, had found it an exciting experience. Once he was released he was hugging John and Max like they were long lost relatives.
They cleaned themselves up and we all retired to the lounge for drinks. By now I really needed an orange juice. Max settled for a G & T, Leroy discovered that I stocked German lager and John raided my best Scotch again.
We could have been considered a very normal little group, if you passed over a couple of things, like Leroy and John did not have a stitch of clothing on and John was sitting on Max's knee getting his bum felt. For some reason, Max has a fascination for putting his fingers where other men's cocks have been. Apart from that, John was being the perfect host and kept the glasses full. In fact Leroy was making serious inroads into my supply of German lager.
Eventually Max said that it was time to go and we still had to clean up the Dungeon, so we all trooped back down. Then the bastards jumped me. I'm big and I'm strong, but so was Leroy and there were three of them. Max's main contribution was to sit on me, shit he's heavy, while the other pair stripped me. To cut a long, and embarrassing, story short I ended up on the rack face down and bum up.
A tip to any of you who find yourself in this unfortunate position, shouting will do you no good at all. First no one who might come to your aid will hear you and second you piss off those who can hear you, which makes them gag you.
With great relish Max greased me up. Then John climbed on the table and slipped me a length. Here he was on a bit of a looser. He was as hot as hell, and I know how to use my ass when being fucked. So his moment of triumph was brief and I had the satisfaction of feeling him shoot his eager young load into me.
When John was finished, he slid off me. I waited for them to release me but it didn't happen. Instead Max walked round in front of me. This caused a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"So at last I've got you into bondage, Nick." he said grinning. "Now, what will we do with you?"
He moved over to the racks of toys and I began to sweat blood. Some of these would kill me and there was bugger all I could do about it. All these years I had managed to avoid getting into this sort of situation and now my nightmare was coming true.
"Nah, why bother with toys when we have the real thing." He said and beckoned. Leroy moved into my field of vision, he was still naked and very erect.
"Leroy is in to role-playing, aren't you Leroy?" he said, Leroy smiled modestly.
I shuddered. Some of these role-playing guys can get really heavy.
"Now Leroy who do you think Nick here would like to play with?" Max was clearly enjoying himself. He already had his hand on Leroy's ebony buns and would bet real money he already had his fingers in Leroy's ring.
"Hmm." said Leroy, taking pause for thought, "Rastus?"
"Ah yes, dear old Rastus. An excellent choice for Nick." He leered at me as he said it.
"Nick, I'd like you to meet Rastus. Rastus just loves a quiet, helpless partner, don't you Rastus?" he said
As he spoke Leroy changed from a nice, quiet, well-spoken, black guy into a "Black with attitude".
"Yus." said Rastus.
"Wanna fuck him?" said Max in a cool voice.
"Yeah!" said Rastus, with a leering grin.
Standing directly in front of me he grinned and slowly began to apply Crisco to that damned cock of his and I knew my fate was sealed. I was about to be raped.
He moved to the foot of the rack and out of my sight. I felt the rack move as he climbed on. Prying, greasy fingers entered me and began to smear more Crisco right up inside me. When he decided I was slick enough, they were removed. Ole George was now rigid.
About this point I began wondering just how fine the dividing line was that separated role-player from schizophrenic. My one ray of hope was, although Max hung around with some really heavy characters, he didn't tolerate the truly flaky ones. They were all very controlled and not liable to do any permanent damage. Mind you temporary damage could be bloody painful too.
Rastus mounted me and immediately entered me. God, getting that big cock head through my ring was an effort but once it was inside I could cope with it. He carefully turned my face away from the others and he obviously has a thing about talking to the helpless guys he fucked, because he began to whisper in my ear. The others couldn't hear him and I, of course, couldn't reply.
"Yo' ever had a Nigga in dere befo'." he asked.
I had, in the past, visited the USA and I know how they avoid the use of some words; WC becomes bathroom or restroom. One thing that I had been warned about was the "N" word. I must not use it and under no circumstances must it be even thought about in the presence of a Black. Now one had just whispered it in my ear.
"I asked yo' a question, Faggot. Yo' ever had a Nigga cock in dere befo'?" He whispered fiercely.
I shook my head. It was true, I had never been with a guy whose skin was darker than mine. I suppose that my slight colouring made me feel special and I didn't really want to be outdone in this department. It hadn't been a conscious decision. In fact, I only realised it when he asked me.
"Well dat Nigga cock is going all de way up yo' an' dere ain't nuffin' yo' can do to stop it, is dere? 'Cause yo all tied up. So I'm gonna widen dat nice tight Faggot ass so it can take yo' Nigga's cock wifout squealin' like a stuck pig. Right?"
Here he gave a thrust of his hips to emphasise his point. This drove his thick cock about half its length into me. I could feel the bulbous head move inside my guts. My ring tightened on his cock and he once more began to pour abuse into my ear.
"Like it Faggot? Yo' like feeling a real man's cock inside yo' precious ass?"
Again I nodded, there was no point in making him force me to nod.
"Den yo'll like de rest even more." Now he put continuous forward pressure on his hips. My ring was gradually widened as the shaft of his manhood slid all the way in. Try as I might, there were tears forming in the corners of my eyes when I finally felt his wiry bush press against my buns.
"Yeah, yo' just love having it in you, don't ya? Well here's a surprise, der's mo."
Then I felt two big hands pull my buns apart this was followed by some further forward pushing. God there was more of it! Only when my buns were fully pushed aside and he was in to the hilt did the pressure stop.
"OK now I'm gonna fuck yo'." He began his first backstroke. Shit he pulled it right back until it was out! The head stretched my ring mercilessly as it left me and suddenly I felt empty, then he drove it all the way back in, again my ring got punished. It was all done carefully and deliberately.
A groan of mine got past the gag.
"Yeah. It ain't like being fucked by a white man, is it?. When a Nigga fucks yo', Faggot, yo' stays fucked."
Once more he withdrew completely and slid back up again, another twice my ring got reamed by the head of his cock passing through it. On each stroke, in or out, the bent head of his weapon pressed hard on my prostate as it passed. The sensation defied description, all Ole George wanted to do was cum and cum and cum. Unfortunately, I was in no position to help him get there.
"Yo' know, since Max taught me I can hold back from cuming. Why befo' I used to only last two minutes, now I fink I can last all night."
Fortunately, after about ten passes of the head of his cock through my ring, it slackened and I found that I could take him. The quiet stream of abuse in my ear slowly began to turn me on. I was his Faggot, he was my Nigga. So what, I was helpless, but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy it. Gradually I got the rhythm of his slow thrusts and began to move in opposition, helping him fuck me.
"See," he whispered in my ear, "yo' getting' de hang of it. Now yo' really beggin' for it, ain't ya? Why if I stopped an' took it out now you'd be pleading wid me to put it back in, wouldn't ya?"
I nodded, because it was the truth. I was being raped and I was enjoying it. I wanted to feel that cock of his explode inside me. I wanted to be filled with his cum. The bastard had me physically and mentally. Ole George was now screaming for release.
"Well don't yo' go worrin' yo'self, Faggot, yo' Nigga's gonna fuck yo' good an' proper."
I suppose he fucked me for about ten minutes, it seemed a lot longer, but at last I could feel the change.
"OK Faggot, now yo' Nigga's gonna fill dat slack ass of yo's wid Nigga's cum. Yo' ready fo' it?"
Again I nodded.
"Right here we go."
Now the speed increased dramatically. The length of the stroke stayed the same. Every time he pulled back that cock head went through my ring. Suddenly, he rammed straight home and held it there. I could feel the cock throb as he filled me. As best as I could I used my ass muscles to milk his cock.
"Yesssss." he whispered in my ear, "Yo' can have as much as yo' like. Yo' sure know how to treat yo' Nigga right."
I could feel his heart beat pounding inside me through his cock. Gradually his pulse slowed and that massive erection began to go limp. I felt a wave of relief go over me. My ordeal was at last ending.
"Yo' boyfriend asked me to give yo' dis." he whispered.
I lay there wondering what the hell he was talking about. Then I realised why John had been pouring beer into him. Slowly my guts began to distend. I managed to make another moan be heard.
"Now yo' ain't nuffin' but a Nigga's pisspot. Right?" he snickered in my ear.
Shit he must have had a full bladder because I was filling up fast and couldn't tell him to stop. Then, I could feel the cock inside me squirting fitfully as the last was pissed into me. All this was too much for Ole George, he began pumping my seed out and I could feel it warm against my belly and the rack.
"Hey Faggot, yo' cumin' fo' yo' Nigga? Dat's nice." again it was a snicker.
The bastard had taken me totally. Never in my life have I had such an intense, humiliating, but wildly exciting, sexual experience.
He slid his soft member out of me. I felt something cold replace it. Then there was the tinkling of water in the drain and the pressure in my belly began to go down.
"Just thought I'd save you from being messy." I heard Max say.
When the cuffs came off my wrists and ankles I felt stiff, I managed to stand and Leroy helped me to the shower.
"So, how did you like your run-in with Rastus?" he said grinning, his normal speech patterns returning.
"Which one is the real you?" I countered.
"Who knows?" he said mysteriously as we began to wash each other.
"Man, that was one wild fuck!" I said.
"Well it was a bit of a first for me too. Before Max taught me how to hold on I was blowing after just a minute or so." he confided.
"All that dirty talk really turned me on," I confessed.
"Yes, it is strange. A lot of guys get their rocks off when you treat them like shit." he grinned, "Next time you can tie me up and fuck ma Nigga ass fo' me." he said, "I like it being done to me too. Hey that bear cub of yours, he can really suck cock. Did you teach him?"
I nodded. Was this the same guy who had just fucked me? As I said, some of these role-playing guys really get into their parts.
While the other pair were getting dressed I asked Max a few questions and got a number of interesting answers. Next time I got John in the Dungeon, he was in for the shock of his life.
John was a very quiet boy during the ride to take Leroy and Max home. However after we let them off, he snuggled up to me and I wrapped an arm round him.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked in a small voice.
"What, for me getting tied up and raped?"
He nodded.
"Hell no." I said hugging him as best I could with one arm, "I should have seen it coming. It was not your fault that I was stupid. Besides I would have missed that crazy fuck. That guy really knows how to turn someone on." I told him
"Was that the first time you have been really afraid during sex?" he asked.
"Yeah," I answered.
"Exciting, isn't it," he said.
"Yes, and I shall remember that the next time I get you tied up." I said, making him shiver. I might not blame him but as sure as hell he was really going to be scared shitless the next time I got him in the Dungeon.
There was no more sex that night, we were both quite sated. So the remainder of the evening was devoted to kissing and cuddling, and being in love in the non-sexual sense. Which can be a lot of fun too.
Another week passed quickly. My love for John only deepened. Mind you we were in no way completely compatible. He was untidy and just dropped things everywhere. I wandered around picking them up and putting them away. Nor in matters sexual were we seeing eye to eye. He was bold and daring, he would attempt anything, just for the kicks. I was careful, methodical, never taking chances.
Driving past that garage twice a day, taking John to and from school, was becoming a bit of a temptation, mind you. I didn't really have a good excuse for stopping until a small, light blue, Mini appeared outside it with a "For Sale" sign on it. The money had started to come through from that first job that I had done for Digby and so I could afford to buy it for John. This would let me off the hook from driving him to school every day.
So that Friday on the way to school I put the idea to him. I'll give you a tip here; if you ever wish to offer an 18-year-old male his own set of wheels, don't do it when you are driving. As most young males would sell their soul, or anything else they possess, for their own car, they tend to get excited when the offer is made.
Trying to steer a large car while a beautiful boy is kissing you and promising you anything is not an easy task. Naturally Ole George was screaming about taking the kid up on his offer there and then. But somehow we made it to school.
We resolved to drop by the garage the next day and see about purchasing the car. However I did take up his offer of abusing his body when we got home that Friday night.
Dinner over we retired to the Dungeon. We moved the rack aside and set up the frame. It was much more convenient for what I had in mind. I stripped him naked and strapped him into the frame. I found one of the light-excluding hoods that Max had recommended and put it on him. He could still hear what was going on, but Max had thought of everything.
There was a reel-to-reel recorder and it could connect to earphones built into the hood. I selected the tape that Max had recommended. Quiet, but creepy, music but in the background you could hear people moving around, muttered conversations, nasty clanking noises. John could never be sure what was on the tape and what was real.
I then spent a delightful ten minutes fingering him. This got him invitingly greased up, slackened and as randy as a fiddler's bitch. When he was truly begging for it, I drifted off to wash my hands. If he was that desperate, he could wait.
Tinker, who had until now been watching the proceedings from a position of advantage on the stairs suddenly stood up and hissed. In the silent that followed the chime sounded twice.
I quickly did the rounds and, as on previous occasions, I was waiting at the door to meet them.
The Sergeant looked exasperated, the Constable resigned and the Inspector seemed to be very determined, but in some pain. He limped across the yard and still had a plaster on the side of his head.
"Ah, I see they fixed you up at the hospital again." I said, a little too sweetly.
He just nodded and said, "We will carry on from where we left off last time, Mr Mathews"
I nodded and walked slowly across the yard so that he could keep up. Despite his injuries he did a most thorough search of the outbuildings. Spending over an hour going through every nook and cranny. The other pair and I followed him, even Tinker came along for the ride, although he did it once again from the safety of my shoulder. Finally the Inspector had to give up and we all returned to the cars. It was clear that the Inspector was not a happy chappy at all.
Now his ranting began. We got the "God hates gays" speech. Followed by the "You will burn in Hell for all of eternity" whine. After he ran through that lot he began the "I will keep on hounding you until you repent your sins" bit. There I began to lose my cool. I stepped up to him and towered over him, then I hunkered down so I was at his eye level and spoke to him as if he was a child.
"Listen very carefully little man. I have spoken to my lawyer. He has told me that I have already bent over backwards to accommodate your fantasy. But now it is at an end. If you ever set foot on my property again without my express permission or a valid search warrant in your sweaty little hand, I will report you to your superiors for harassment and emphasise that it is caused by you being a religious bigot. Do you understand?" I said in a cold, level and hard voice.
He was now ashen, I think partly from fear and the rest from anger. Clearly he was not used to being spoken to in such a manner. He spluttered for a few seconds and then got into his car and roared off down my drive at a reckless speed. In fact he made so much noise that Tinker jumped off my shoulder and ran off.
"I think we will be leaving Sir." said the Sergeant diplomatically. He and the Constable bade my good night and left in the second car, at a more moderate pace.
After the second chime sounded I opened the panel to the Dungeon and descended.
John was still nicely tied up. Every so often he would strain at his bonds and ask if anyone was there. I walked over to him in the knowledge he had no means of knowing he was no longer alone. I quietly unzipped my pants, pulled out Ole George and greased him up. Then I got into position behind my love without touching him, and without making any other contact with his body, I entered him. Ole George slid John on like a well-greased sea boot. John's screams echoed around the Dungeon in a most satisfactory manner.
It is sort of kinky to roger someone who is naked while all you have removed is your cock from your pants. Even more fun when they have their sense of sight and hearing disabled. I knew that his entire world was now centred on the cock that was running his ass for him. I could sense his fear radiating from him. Ole George managed to hold out for about five minutes before he supplied John's ass with extra lubrication in the form of my load. I reached under him, got his cock, and made him cum.
I took off the hood and released him. He hugged me tightly and cried softly into my chest.
"You OK?" I asked and he nodded.
"Was it frightening enough for you this time?" He nodded vigorously.
"Not too much?" I asked.
There was a long pause before he shook his head. I think I had taken him slightly beyond his limit.
When he had come down from his high I told him what had happened.
"Still no bad luck befell him this time." I concluded.
"Where is Tinker?" he asked.
"Tinker was safely on my shoulder throughout the whole thing." I replied.
"No. Where is Tinker now?" he said
"I'm not sure, but he didn't jump off until after the Inspector left in his car." I answered.
John smiled for the first time since I had released him.
For the rest of the evening we watched TV together, kissed cuddled and played gently with each other's body, the way that lovers do. But Tinker never turned up before we turned in for the night.
The blue flashing priority lights around the scene of the crash blinded me. I was trying to get through the police, firemen and ambulance crews to see who was involved the accident. I could hear the screaming of other emergency vehicles converging on the scene.
"Let me through! I've got to get through." I shouted.
"For God's sake wake up. You're having a nightmare." said John shaking me, and the scene dissolved.
"There was an accident. I couldn't see who was hurt. I thought I might have lost you." Shit, I was crying.
John said nothing. He held me in his arms and I must have fallen asleep again because suddenly it was morning.
Slowing John down long enough to have breakfast was a job, he wanted to go and get his car right away. He was like a six-year-old who had been promised a kitten. However the chime sounding once delayed our departure.
"Oh shit! It's Mother." he said.
A couple of weeks ago this would have surprised me. Now it just caused my to look round and make sure the place was tidy enough to stand up to the visit of the mother-in-law.
We met her at the door. Her car was full of John's possessions.
"He is all yours now, Nicholas." she said as we unloaded, "Make sure he has clean underwear and washes behind his ears."
"Is there any way I can get him to be a bit more tidy?" I asked.
"If you do I'll be most interested to hear about it." she said wryly.
She came in for a cup of tea; Tinker reappeared and jumped on her knee. She stroked him idly as she spoke.
"Tell me Nicholas, do you now believe that a small cat can protect you?" she asked.
"Well." I said thinking back. "He did warn us a couple of times, and I'll swear that the Inspector never tripped over him."
She sighed in a disappointed fashion. "The other Monday things were not, er, going well for you, were they?" she asked.
"Hell no! I have never had such a run of bad luck!" I said heatedly.
"Bad luck, good luck, are you sure that you can tell the difference?" She was having fun.
"Well I just couldn't get that damned job out of the computer. It was most frustrating."
She took a sip of her tea. "It wasn't all frustrating. I mean the hour that you lost at the garage could hardly be labelled as `frustrating', could it?"
John began to snigger. I wanted to hide my face.
"However let us stop looking at the short term and instead look at the long term results. A series of alterations to your luck made sure that, when Inspector Jenkins arrived in the middle of the night, you were not wrapped round my son in bed. Instead you were wide-awake and all traces of John's presence could be easily removed from view. Well, almost all." she concluded enigmatically.
"You mean, I went through hell, just for that? Wasn't there an easier way?" I asked.
"You asked me for my advice. I said that you must not push against your luck. But when it came to the test, you pushed as hard as you could. Why poor little Tinker here had to go flat out, just to keep up with you." she explained, tickling Tinker under his chin.
I sat there stunned. The worst thing about it was, everything she said made sense.
"At least you are not as bad as that poor Inspector. Now there is a slow learner for you. Anyway I must be off. Ah, don't rush off to the garage just yet, messengers come in threes and I am just the first. By the way, I think that it is most kind of you to devote your time to educating the garage man and his son. You really have improved their lives." she said rising to leave. "Oh, and your friend Mike took your advice, and you'll be pleased to know that it worked. He now has a girlfriend, a slightly pregnant girlfriend. They'll discover in a month or so, then get married. Just as well, he needed someone to look after him."
There are times to admit defeat and shut up, this was one of them, John unwisely snickered.
"Oh, Johnstone, lay off his good whisky, it is for special occasions and it can get you into trouble." she said making John go bright red.
We saw her off and returned to the lounge.
"God, she gives me the willies." I said as we begun began unpacking John's things.
"That's nothing." he replied, "You should see her at Halloween."
The chime sounded for her car leaving the drive. There was about a ten-minute interval and it sounded again. I looked at Tinker, he was sitting with one hind leg in the air, washing his bum.
"Messenger number two?" I said, and John nodded.
We went to the door and watched the car arrive. So there I was, standing with my arm round my little bear cub, when the Sergeant stepped out of the car. I nearly died. Tinker unconcernedly wound his body round my ankles. The Sergeant walked over and greeted us.
"You must be young Johnston Williams?" he said, "A minor." he added, grinning at me. "May I come in?"
Seated in the lounge, surrounded by what were most obviously the personal possessions of an 18-year-old boy I looked at the Sergeant and said, "You've known all along, haven't you?"
"Oh yes Sir, I am quite observant. It was the whisky glass that gave you away, Sir. You see you don't drink. I checked in the local pubs and you have never ordered anything stronger that a fruit juice. So the way you reacted when you got a mouthful of whisky was a bit of give away."
I nodded in agreement with his findings.
"I thought so. But you arrived at the door with a glass of whisky in your hand, and a very good one too, if I may say so, I had a taste from the glass after you put it down. Now, I thought. Why would a man, who doesn't drink and lives alone, have a glass of whisky in his hand when he answers the door. The only answer that fitted was; it was someone else's whisky and you had not had time to dispose of it."
Dumbly I nodded.
"Now, that little detector down the end of your drive is very neat. It took me quite a while to discover it. So any time a car enters your drive you know about it?"
Again I nodded. My heart was in my boots. The only bright spot was, Tinker was sitting on my lap washing himself. So, in theory at least, I was not in danger. I decided to test this theory.
"So, you have come to arrest me?" I asked.
The Sergeant laughed. "Oh no Sir, I was never after you. It was the Inspector who was hunting you down. One of his friends up in London gave him a tip. He was determined to make an arrest, as you saw for yourself. But that is all in the past. Which is really the reason for my visit. There was a rather nasty accident at the end of your drive last night."
I gulped, my nightmare flashed before me again.
"From what we could get out of him afterwards, the Inspector was driving down your drive at one hell of a rate, when a small black and white cat ran out in front of him, causing him to lose control of the vehicle and slam into another on the main road."
Both John and I looked at Tinker.
The Sergeant caught the look. "Oh no Sir it couldn't have been your cat. He was sitting on your shoulder when the Inspector drove off. Strange though, the Inspector swore blind that it was your cat. But the cat, yours or not, might well have saved the Inspector's life. Had he hit that large tree opposite the end of your drive head-on, why I doubt if he would have survived it. The speed he was moving at, he'd never have braked in time."
I looked down at Tinker. He stopped washing himself, gazed at me through half closed eyes, closed them in a lazy fashion, then he resumed washing. This is the same reaction that I had got earlier, when I took him to task about the dead mice turning up on the kitchen floor.
"Is he badly hurt?" I asked.
"Not that much worse than the two previous occasions. However it took the emergency teams ages to cut him out of the car. We were there most of the night. And they are becoming sick of the sight of him down at the hospital. However there was the matter of the other vehicle involved. You see, it was the Chief Constable's car. It contained the Chief and his good lady wife." There was a touch of satisfaction in his voice.
"So I fear that Inspector Jenkins' career in the force will be limited to paper pushing, or going round the schools teaching kids how to cross roads. The truth be told, he was a townie, he didn't fit in to the countryside. Wanting all the pubs to shut on time, chasing after you, making trouble unnecessarily. He didn't understand how to live and let live." he said standing to leave.
"I'll be off now Sir, and I don't think we'll be bothering you on this matter in the future. The lads down the station, they're a superstitious lot, they're all convinced you brought the Inspector bad luck." he said, with a chuckle. "No Sir you will have to be a very naughty boy indeed to see my lot up here on business.
Just as he got to the door he stopped and turned, "Just one last question Sir, and you don't have to answer it if you don't want to. How did you always know when it was the Inspector that was coming up your drive?" he asked.
"Oh, the cat told us." I answered.
"Yes Sir, animals sometimes know things that we don't. It's a funny old world and no mistake." he said.
I blinked. I had given him the true, if totally ridiculous, answer and he had calmly accepted it!
Having seen the Sergeant off we returned to our unpacking. This time it was the telephone that rang. I answered it and found that I was speaking to David.
David is a gay, Jewish, lawyer who works closely with the police. So closely in fact, that you can sometimes find a young Constable between him and his mattress. Apart from him being partial to young men in uniforms, or should I say, getting young men out of their uniforms, David is a nice guy and has a bubbly personality. However in this case I realised that I was talking to his professional alter ego, David the lawyer.
"Ah Nick, I may have some very bad news for you, I hope I caught you in time. You remember that Ronnie chap, the chicken queen?" he said.
"Yes." I replied.
"Well for some time a few of us have suspected that he has been a Copper's nark, turning some of us in to the law." he said.
"Ah!" said I, as things began to fit together.
"Well he had a bit of bad luck last night down in Brighton. It seems that he picked up a twelve-year-old rent boy and was taking him back to his hotel room when the night porter became awkward. Instead of slipping the man some ready money, Ronnie got stroppy with him. The porter chappy let them go up to the room, then called the police and, when they arrived, let them into the room. There they found Ronnie up to the hilt in underage rent boy." said David.
A howl of laughter escaped my lips.
"Oh I can see the funny side of it, old boy. But the little bugger is, as our American cousins say, `singing like a canary'. Apparently you had a run in with him at a party recently, where you appeared with a lad of less than twenty-one summers." he said.
"Ah. Then I have some good news on that front. We have, er, em, worked things out with the local police and they don't see it as a big problem anymore. So it was Ronnie who shopped me. Most interesting." I said.
We spoke for a while but John was hopping from foot to foot dying to go and buy his car. Eventually I got off the phone and we set off for the garage.
Again the forecourt was empty and we parked near the Mini, got out and looked it over. It was two years old and in excellent condition. The price was right and we had just got to the part where you kick the wheels, when an excited voice called out, "Dad! He's come back!"
We turned to see the lad standing in his overalls. He seemed quite pleased to see us and was beckoning back into the workshop to make his Dad come and join us.
"You fucked him?" asked John.
I nodded.
"I wonder..." said John.
"Wait until you see Dad." I said.
Dad walked over smiling brightly, then he saw John and looked questioningly at me.
John took one look at Dad and managed to say, "Wow!"
"'e yours." said Dad in his usual brief way.
I nodded.
"Fuck 'im?
Again I nodded.
Dad walked up to John and looked him over. Then he motioned to John to turn round so he could inspect the other side. As John obeyed I could see he was already sporting a boner.
"He's been hoping you would come back, so you could teach me more." said the lad. "I'll close up for lunch, Dad?"
Dad was still looking John over and licking his lips as he did so, he nodded to his son.
"Kin I fuck 'im?" asked Dad, in his rather direct manner.
"Ask him." I said.
"Want fucked?" he asked John. Who by now was bright red from being the centre of the man's lust.
"Are you going to take the nice man up on his romantic proposal?" I asked my dumbstruck lover. As I reached into my car's glove box and retrieved the tube of KY.
He nodded and Dad led the way.
We all ended up in the bedroom. The centre of interest was the large double bed. Without thinking three of us began stripping and Dad just unzipped his coverall from neck to crotch allowing his manhood to spring out.
Dad took one look at John and said "'in't 'e hairy?"
"My little bear cub." I said remembering Leroy's description from the previous evening.
"Dad wants you to teach me how to swallow him whole. He said you could do it if you had enough time." said the lad.
"Tricky, but possible, provided you are both willing to pay attention and control yourselves." I said. Then looking straight at Dad I continued, "No matter how hot you get, you have always got to remember you could easily choke your partner. Especially in your case where you are so much bigger and stronger than he is. Do you both understand?"
Both nodded.
"OK John up on the bed with you, on your back with your head over the edge and we'll show them how to swallow cock." I said
I carefully explained about getting the throat dead straight. Then I explained about gagging and how to control it, not by fighting it, but by relaxing and accepting it. I demonstrated by running Ole George all the way down John's willing throat.
"Hell!" said the man in disbelief.
After I pulled out I had the son take John's place and spent an age teaching him to do the same. Finally, his nose was pushing into my balls. He was learning.
Dad now seemed keen to try spearing his son from the top end but I insisted that he first practise on me. Under my tuition he learned to take things slowly and carefully. He also got the concept of "consideration for his partner before his own pleasure" drummed into his head.
When I was finished he got his son to lie down and deep throat him. It was quite a sexy sight, a man dressed in a set of coveralls, with his cock out, kneeling beside the bed and running the cock in and out of his son's throat. He didn't last long but he had enough sense to pull back and let the boy breath before pushing home and dumping his load down there.
I let him alone to see if he would pull out in time and he did. He seemed well pleased with the boy and nodded in his direction. "Want 'im?"
"I think the lad deserves some reward for all his work. Would you like to fuck John?" I said.
The son looked amazed. "I've never fucked anyone before." he said.
I went to my jacket and produced the KY. Then I spend a while teaching the pair of them how to finger your partner and get him nice and slick. Neither seemed squeamish and happily had a go at John's ring. Finally I had the pleasure of applying the lube to the son's, not inconsiderable, dick.
Now at my direction the son got on top for the first time in his life. I showed him how you must place your knees inside the other guy's legs, so you can hold them apart if, you need to. Then how he should enter his partner causing the maximum pleasure and minimum pain.
When he was in John, he stopped and said, "I never thought it would feel this good."
"Kid, you ain't seen nothing yet. OK my little bear, move your ass for the nice boy." I said.
Obligingly John began to wriggle around on the pole that spiked him making the son shudder and moan. I smiled and winked at Dad. He just stood there watching, hardly believing his eyes as his son fucked another boy. As he stared, his erection began to come back.
The son experimentally tried moving his hips. The sensation seemed to be instantly addictive because he speeded up and entered the end game immediately. He was whooping like a Hollywood cowboy when he came.
"Leave it in him till you go limp." I advised the son, and he did.
When they finally parted I applied the KY to the father's cock. For the first time I felt a pang of jealousy about John, he was getting this and I wanted it.
Dad took his son's place and, surprisingly gently, entered John. John groaned slightly at the difference in sizes but soon was treating the father to what the son had just enjoyed. Dad didn't just hang around, he reverted to his old style fucking, ram it in and out till you cum.
The sensation of a new ass round his cock seemed to get him going and soon he was making the animal sounds at the back of his throat, which signalled that the end was nigh. Shit, he didn't half ram it home as he came.
When Dad managed to retrieve his manhood from John's cock-trap we took a short break to clean up, grab some lunch and let the three of them catch their breath, then back to the bedroom.
Now, the only cock in the place that was still unsatisfied was Ole George, and he was giving me gyp about it. I pushed the son and he fell onto the bed on his back.
Grabbing his ankles I shoved them up towards his head and spread them as wide as I could. This left his puckered ring fully exposed. Beside me the other pair watched with interest, as I lowered my lips to meet it.
There was a gasp of astonishment from Dad as I began to rim his son. "Why?" he asked.
"It feels nice and makes him want to be fucked." replied John, since I was busy using my tongue for something other than talking.
I kept it up until the lad was moaning then stopped, let go of his legs and turned him over on to his hands and knees, in a nice position to be fucked by someone standing beside the bed. Grabbing the KY I began to grease him up.
"OK John get under him in a 69 then you can suck each other off and as an extra treat you can have a nice view of him being fucked." I said as I began readying Ole George for his travels.
When John was in position I let Ole George glide into the lad. At the same moment John must have slipped his mouth round the lad's meat, because he gasped then John's hands came into view and pulled the lad's head down and encouraged him to put his mouth to some good use.
I was just getting the lad's ring used to Ole George when I felt the cool sensation of KY being applied to my ring. The rather large male member of Dad quickly followed this. As he slithered up into me the kinkyness of it began to get to me. Here I was reaming out the ass of a boy while his father was poking me.
Even kinkier was the fact that the other two just kept still. As I moved my hips in the process of fucking the lad, the same action moved my ass up and down his Dad's hard rod. I had never been the meat in a sandwich before but I must admit, it has much to recommend it.
Strange to say, the one who was only getting a single stimulation, was the first to begin losing it. Dad stopped standing still and began moving his shaft harder and deeper into me. Eventually he was doing all the work by driving into me with such force that Ole George was being moved up and down the lad's rear passage.
Dad began growling then I could feel his weapon begin to discharge its load inside me. The sensation of such a butch man having an orgasm in my guts was affecting Ole George. I began moving him in and out of the lad and even as my ring was teasing the last of his father's cum out, Ole George began redecorating the boy's interior by showering it with my jism. I didn't have to hold on for long until I felt the son's sphincter muscles telegraph the message that the kid was shooting. Having the lad cum in his mouth was enough to encourage John to return the compliment.
Slowly we began disentangling our bodies. John crawled out from under. Dad slid a wilted cock from my ass. I slowly dragged Ole George back into the daylight, and the kid got off the bed.
As before Dad went into the kitchen, cleaned his cock and zipped himself up again. There was no way three of us could get under the shower together so I let the younger pair go in first. There was a bit of whispering and giggling going on in there, and I had a feeling in my water that the pair of them were up to something. I had a fair idea what it was and who would be their victim.
By the time I was through the shower, dried and dressed the others were in the kitchen. As I joined them I watched their little game begin. The son worked his way round until he was behind his father. John walked boldly over and unzipped the man fully then knelt before him and placed the man's limp cock in his mouth. The son now reached round his father and, obviously at John's directions, squeezed hard on his bladder.
Dad looked puzzled by all this and said, "Gotta pee."
I sighed. "Just let go in his mouth, it turns him on and you'll get no peace until you do."
Dad shrugged, a look of concentration came on his face then John began gulping. While Dad might not have thought much of the idea I did notice that his cock came out of John's mouth a lot larger than it went in and he had to zip up with some care. Now, at last, we could get round to the process of buying the car and it made John a very happy lad. At last I got to know why men like buying expensive presents for their lovers. It gives you a nice warm fuzzy feeling inside.
Eventually we set off back to the farm in convoy, John leading, and so our life together began. Since this was a story about beginnings, and that beginning has now ended so too must my tale.
The Epilogue.
But all that was back in the mid seventies and here we are at the end of the nineties. As John's mother predicted, his tryst with Big Al did him some good. We got invited to some of their straight parties, which consisted of medical types. So as John's career advanced, doors opened easily just ahead of him, as he made his way to the rank of consultant pathologist. You see, he wanted to be a doctor and still get eight hours sleep a night, every night.
As the Sergeant predicted, the Inspector never crossed my path again.
Ronnie, the chicken queen, came up before one of the old fashioned Judges and was sent down for a long time. From what I heard the other prisoners didn't like child molesters any more than the Judge, so his stay at her majesty's expense was not a pleasant one. I never met him again either.
However the Father and son from the garage became firm friends with us and we had many happy times with them. Mind you it took us quite a time to get the father to strip.
Tinker kept nudging my luck in the right direction. Most times I didn't notice it, but on two occasions it made my hair stand on end. The first was a set of traffic lights suddenly going red as I approached, no amber, just straight from green to red. I stopped and watched as a truck on the far side of the junction crossed over the road and smashed through a shop front. If I had not stopped I would have been hit and most likely be as dead as the truck driver, who had had a heart attack at the wheel.
The second time we were going to the airport to fly off on holiday. The familiar feeling of swimming through treacle came back as one thing after another slowed us down. I now had enough sense not to fight it and we arrived at the airport to find that the plane to our promised Caribbean paradise was long gone.
The lady at travel company desk was most helpful and in less than 4 hours we were winging our way to a Greek island for our holiday. After about four days I found a radio with a short-wave band and tuned to the BBC World Service to get the news. Our Caribbean paradise had been hit by a hurricane.
Leroy left the Navy, moved to England and, to everyone's amazement, actually became Max's lover. So we have had loads of fun with Rastus and his other characters.
Michael and his wife turned out to be a very fecund couple. The first three were boys and the last pregnancy produced twin girls. A farm is a wonderful place for children and they seemed to spend more of their growing years with their two uncles than they did with their parents. So our home echoed with the sound of children playing. (In fact the first of the next generation is running around now.) But it was when their second son was born that John's mother came to see us.
"This one will need some extra help from you pair, he is gay." she informed us. "Just make sure he doesn't get his head filled with all that moral rubbish during his formative years. It's hell to get rid of it in later life."
And so little Martin walked into our life. The mother-in-law was, as usual, right. Even as a babe in arms he liked being held by males more than females. As a toddler he would follow me everywhere and hold onto my leg whenever I stopped.
As the years passed his interest in Ole George grew. Every time I tried to change my clothes Martin would suddenly appear trying for a glimpse. In the end I just gave up. If he wanted to look he could, but as neither Ole George nor I were into little boys, looking was as far as it went. More years went passed and he grew into a teenager.
One time it was a bit embarrassing. John and I had nipped off for a slither. For those who don't understand the term "slither", let me digress long enough to explain.
You strip the bed down to the bare mattress and cover it with a large plastic sheet. Then both of you strip off and climb on the bed. Next you need a large bottle of baby oil and, taking turns, you rub it all over your partner. Then you wrestle and see who can get on top. Fun, but messy fun.
Now we had just started and John was winning, he got bigger as he got older and not as easy to pin down, when there was a slight noise from the wardrobe.
"Oh heck, that little bugger Martin is hiding in the wardrobe." John whispered in my ear. "What do we do? Stop and throw him out or give him a show?"
"What would your mother advise?" I whispered back.
"Give the little beggar a show." was the reply, so we did.
After John has slaked his lust on me, I climbed on him and young Martin finally got to see Ole George in action. It must have excited him a lot because by the time Ole George had finished ravishing John's innards Martin was sitting in the open door of the wardrobe making no attempt to hide.
By the time Martin came out of the wardrobe his sexual education had advanced a lot. He seemed quite unashamed, but he did have a lot of questions. So after we had got cleaned up, (ever try to get baby oil out of bear fur) we answered all of them. If necessary we showed him how something was done, but on each other, he could only watch.
The years rolled on and each of the children lost his or her virginity to their boy or girlfriend at our place. John supplied the condoms and the sex education. So all the kids had happy natural approach to sex as they became adults.
Tinker? Oh, he's still around. I commented to John on the fact that he seemed sprightly for his age.
"Cedric is older than I am." He replied. "Mother bestows a human life span on them. She's a sentimental old dear."
Not exactly how I would have described her, but there we are.
What happened to me? Well Digby's company did put me on their preferred vendors list. This brought me a lot of business and I expanded way beyond the farm. When I became large enough, Digby's parent company decided to buy me out and do their own installations.
This gave me a small amount of capital, but an option to buy a block of their stock at a fixed, low price every year, for the next ten years. Tinker must have been doing a bit of luck-nudging because the stock price rose and rose. In the end I began playing the market and I'm now a paper millionaire.
Last, but not least, Ole George? Well his favourite hiding place is still to be found between those furry buns of John.
The End.