Pathways To Sex By Benson Hurster
Part One
Chapter One
"Is that the last one?" Chester Rollins asked after escorting a pretty, though slightly disheveled young woman out of the hotel and into a cab.
Chester, a retired cop after twenty five years on the force, augmented his pension by working hotel security. This week he was working the late shift at the Ritzª Plaza, a five©star hotel on the upper east side of the City. He did not mind this shift because his married kids were long gone and his wife had passed away last year. His nights at home were lonely.
"Let me check the file," Eric Webster said as he opened a folder on his desk.
Keeping track of which hotel guests were 'entertaining' in their rooms had not been part of his masters degree in hospitality management. The hotel turned a blind eye to the many prostitutes and escort services that provided paid companions to the rich and famous; protecting the privacy of a guest was of paramount importance. But the hotel did keep a log in case of an unforseen incident. An angry wife demanding access to her husband's room could be extremely embarrassing to a valued hotel client who was in bed with another woman at the time. The tabloid newspapers and divorce lawyers thrived on such all too frequent scandals.
"There's one more," Eric said as Chester approached the concierge desk. "Stanley Thurstone, the congressman from Brooklyn, he still has a guest in the penthouse suite.
"The one who announced last week that he's considering a run for the presidency? The family values guy?"
"Yup," Eric replied absently. He remembered the two of them coming in at nine that night at the start of his shift. It was now nearly three in the morning. Thurstone first, followed a moment later by a strikingly handsome young man. Eric knew that face from somewhere, almost laughing aloud when he remembered from where.
"I guess the young lady will be spending the night," Chester said with disgust. "Fucking politicians screwing around with whores."
Eric chuckled softly. "It's not a young lady fucking with a potential President of the United States of America."
"Huh? Who then?"
Before Eric could respond he noticed a light flashing on the elevator panel on his desk. The private elevator was descending to the lobby from the penthouse floor. He turned to the security camera panel and saw the familiar face in the elevator.
"Nope it's not a young lady, Chester, not a young lady at all. It's a young man."
"You mean a faggot?"
Chapter Two
Rene Fordham nervously looked at his watch for the third time since leaving the congressman's suite and entering the elevator. It was late, dangerously late to be leaving the hotel without drawing attention to himself. The lobby would surely be empty at this hour, the night clerk or security guard might stop him and question him before he could get out of the hotel.
Out before midnight or spend the night with the client at his hotel was the best practice rule at the agency. There were a great many rules for the boys at Goldrings, all of which were designed to protect the client at all costs. Maintain client confidentiality and the agency would bail you out immediately if you got arrested, before you got thrown to the animals in the prison population. Breach it, compromise a client to save yourself and the agency wouldn't lift a finger to help you.
It rarely happened at Goldrings, once in the last five years. Arthur Kingman, nineteen years old and in a panic, lost his head when questioned by the police. He foolishly admitted to being a paid escort and having sex with men. Worse yet, he disclosed the room number he'd just come from and the name of the man he'd been having sex with.
"He sent me out for a pack of cigarettes after I gave him a blow job," a very nervous Kingman told the police. "He couldn't exactly call room service for the smokes because like, you know, we were both naked and the room smelled from sweat and semen. I was going back to his room for more sex, he hadn't fucked me yet, when you stopped me."
After the detectives stopped laughing, Arthur Kingman was arrested on a charge of prostitution.
When questioned in the room shortly after, Mr. Lee, the CEO of a multi billion dollar hedge fund, claimed that it was all a misunderstanding. He did let him in because he thought Kingman was the kid from room service delivering his late night order. He was in this room for maybe five minutes, the flustered businesman told the detectives, claiming repeatedly that he did not have sex with the young man.
A few calls were made and some serious money changed hands. The investigation was quietly quashed despite several unanswered questions. Hotel room service had no record of an order from Mr. Lee and Mr. Lee was buck naked, sporting a Viagra induced erection when he opened the door to his room. He was certainly expecting someone he knew very well and it was not the police.
Arthur Kingman's story, his arrest and what happened to him afterwards was told at meetings as a warning to other Goldrings boys. Rene did not know if it was all true, he did not want to find out.
Chapter Three
The cops used Arthur Kingman first. Three rough blow jobs in the interrogation room, before throwing him to the wolves in the holding cell.
"The faggot will keep the niggers happy tonight", one cop said to the other as he shut and locked the door to the cell. "That cocksucker is gonna be a very busy boy."
James Washington Carver, JW to his friends and business associates, was a very wealthy man. He quickly noted Arthur's Armani shirt and slacks...one of his favorite designers. He also noted his manicured nails and expensive haircut. JW loathed white boys in general and boys like Arthur Kingman in particular. Tormented and taunted as the only black boy in a wealthy white community in Alabama, his mother worked as a maid, JW exacted his revenge by humiliating white boys whenever and wherever the opportunity arose.
"Nice shirt," he said in a comforting and friendly tone of voice to a still stunned Arthur. Despite the fact that he willingly serviced men for a living and had happily sucked a great many cocks since junior high school, the cops had not been gentle. He could still taste the sperm in his mouth, which was not unpleasant at all to a cocksucker, but his jaw and ears ached from the brutal face fucking he endured barely fifteen minutes earlier. Stunned and very scared too, surrounded as he was by unsmiling black faces.
A friendly voice was very welcome right now. "Uh, thanks," he replied, moving closer to JW.
"Take it off!" JW barked, no longer smiling.
His closest friends knew parts of his unhappy youth. What they did not know, what no one knew was that JW had been forced to perform oral sex by three white boys. He'd been stripped naked, pushed to his knees and forced to suck their cocks. Humiliated further, if that were possible, when each of them climaxed and ejaculated in his mouth. The next day they fucked him. Taking turns in his ass and his mouth, filling both ends with sperm and urine. This abuse went on for months.
"Why?" Arthur said warily.
"Because I told you to take off your shirt. Listen up white boy, you are going to do whatever I tell you to do or you might have an accident and break your nose and maybe break a finger or two."
Arthur quickly took off his shirt. The gold ring in each of his nipples brought gales of laughter from all the young men in the cell.
"The shoes next, boy."
Arthur obeyed like a well trained puppy, which in many respects he was.
"And now take off the pants."
The laughter increase exponentially as Arthur stood before them, all but naked in a hot pink, lacey thong. Tonights's client liked him to wear sexy, feminine underwear. Jamal and Shaq laughed the hardest because they well knew how much JW liked to humiliate white boys, happily lending their assistance many times in fucking up a white boy's mind.
Just the other day JW had called from a bar with a new assignment.
"Give the asshole a number three," JW instructed. "The motel room is stocked and ready."
JW had a number of treatments to fuck up a white boy's mind. A number one worked well on athletes, boys who changed in the locker room and showered after practice or a game. It required the skills of a tattoo artist.
The number one boy would be stripped naked and his pubic hair shaved off, a blank canvass for the artist to create a masterpiece. With professional care, using black ink, the artist tattooed FAG above the boy's hairless cock. A COCKSUCKER tattoo was considered, but rejected. It took too long to complete and FAG was more than sufficiently humiliating.
No more team sports, locker rooms and communal showers. No fucking girls either, until his pubes grew back to hopefully cover the embarrassing tattoo. Boys with light brown or blond pubic hair never had a chance. The FAG tattoo showed through.
Pubic hair grows back slowly, very slowly. Several high school seniors, to the dismay of their parents, gave up athletic scholarships to fine colleges for no apparent reason. Several college seniors, drafted by the NFL and the NBA...million dollar contracts, failed to report to their teams.
Even if the boy's pubic hair was dark enough to cover, his mind was fucked up anyway. The shame of being branded like a cow...knowing he had FAG tattooed above his dick changed his life forever. Once, unknowlingly, they tattooed an actual faggot. He shaved often, exposed himself quite proudly in gay bars, and went on to have a successful career as a dancer in an all nude boys review.
A number two boy would have his ears and nipples pierced, metal rings inserted in the holes and screwed into place with specially designed screws. A metal ring would be similarly screwed into place around his cock and balls. Not impossible to remove if you had the right screw driver...not sold in any hardware stores. Most boys cried with shame when they woke up alone and saw what had been done to him.
Shaq and Jamal casualy approached the target in the bar, a college freshman named Luke who was flashing a wad of cash and boasting about all the women he slept with. "I fuck'em and leave'em...the cunts love my big dick." Luke was a real prick.
They started up a friendly conversation over more than a couple of beers. Shaq distracted Luke for a moment while Jamal doctored his beer with some knock out drops. Twenty minutes later they were safely in a room at a seedy motel that was secretly owned by JW.
The room was furnished with nothing but a bare, semen stained mattress, a small night table, a dresser and a full length mirror on the bathroom door. No sheets, blankets, bed spread or pillows, not even a towel in the bathroom where the water was turned off. Nothing to cover the target's soon to be naked body or wash away the evidence of his humiliation.
A hidden compartment in the dresser contained course grit sandpaper, cheap latex condoms, KY Jelly, red lipstick, lip stamp and pints of fake sperm that looked and felt just like the real stuff. The fake sperm was often used by the producers of video porn to achieve the popular "Covered in Cum" look. The dresser also held a rubber dildo that was a perfect reproduction of a fully erect eight inch black cock and balls.
The dildo was called the Baster because the testicles could be filled with a pint of fake sperm and, when squeezed, send a powerful stream through the tip of the dildo to "Baste" a face, a mouth, a body or a bowel with an enormous quantity of what appeared to be sperm.
The remaining item in the dresser was a small syringe with a short, thin needle. The syringe held an ounce of clear liquid that looked like, but was not water.
Through an offshore enterprise JW owned a majority interest in a pharmaceutical company that legally manufactured various creams and lotions that were sold in stores all accross the country. His partner, Max, was a brilliant, though somewhat unscrupulous, seventy year old research chemist with a penchant for gambling and young women. Max had recently developed the product in the syringe for his own use. He called it Viagliss and it was far more effective than its namesake products.
JW had big plans for Viagliss once production ramped up in a couple of months. He was already making a fortune with another of Max's products.
When injected painlessly into the upper half of a flaccid penis, Viagliss caused the limp penis to become erect. It worked by dilating the small blood vessels in the penis, thereby dramatically increasing blood flow to the organ, then constricting the vessels to trap the extra blood. The result was a long lasting erection about 15% larger than would normally occur. An erection that a seventeen year old boy or a porn star would be proud of.
State of the art video and audio equipment recorded every thing that took place in the room. JW would enjoy watching it at his leisure.
Jamal jacked off into a condom, filling the tip with a load of his sperm. Shaq removed all of Luke's clothes and roughed up his hands, knees and the tops of his feet with the sandpaper. He left the car keys, wallet, cell phone and a hundred dollar bill on the dresser, then brought the clothes back out to Luke's car.
Shaq filled the dildo with fake semen, coated it with a generous amount of KY, then carefully inserted the tip into Luke's ass. He pushed it in ever so slowly, adding more lube as necessary, until it was all the way inside the boy. He started to fuck Luke slowly, massaging his prostate gland which caused Luke's cock to stir into a pulsing erection.
Involuntarily he began to thrust up on the dildo in his ass, literally fucking himself towards an inevitable climax. Jamal held Luke's cock and fondled his balls to further increase the stimulation.
"His balls are getting tight," Jamal observed. "I think he's going to cum. Keep fucking him, bruise his asshole a bit so it'll feel sore later. That's it, yes, he's cumming."
Jamal directed three strong spurts of semen onto Luke's belly and chest, gently squeezing his cock to milk out the rest. His hand was covered with sperm which he rubbed off all over Luke's nose, cheeks and neck. Shaq then squeezed the dildo's balls, basting Luke's bowels with a pint of fake sperm.
Jamal retrieved the condom he had filled earlier. Shaq gently pinched Luke's nostrils closed causing his lips to part. Jamal turned the condom inside out and dumped the contents into Luke's open mouth. Then he rubbed the slimy condom all around Luke's eyes and forehead. He added several cuttings of his own wiry pubic hair to complete the nasty mess in Luke's mouth and on his face.
The lip stamp was covered with red lipstick. Jamal made several lip impressions on Shaq's ass cheeks and Shaq did the same to Jamal. "Looks like somebody kissed your ass," Shaq observed with a chuckle. The red lipstick was then generously and sloppily applied to Luke's lips and their cocks.
The used condom, having served its purpose, was disposed of in Luke's well lubricated ass. Acting like a stopper, the scummy condom would limit the seepage of fake sperm for a while. Another sprinkling of fake sperm on the bed and everyone's body and the stage was set.
"I almost forget the photos," Shaq said, retrieving Luke's phone from the dresser. "Put your dick on his mouth. No, back a bit so the head is resting on his lips. Perfect." Shaq took three quick shots.
"Push in a little, let's see if he'll open up for your cock."
Luke, still out like a light, cooperated beautifully. His bright red lips parted slightly and Shaq captured the Kodak moment, photos of Jamal's mushroom shaped cockhead squarely in Luke's mouth.
Lastly, Shaq took the cover off the syringe. "This stuff really work?" Jamal asked.
"We're about to find out," Shaq replied as he carefully inserted the needle into Luke's spent cock and pushed down on the plunger.
It worked.
Shaq and Jamal lying on the bed with Luke, three naked boys covered with sticky, slimy cum. "Faggot, cocksucker or pussy boy, never Luke," Shaq reminded Jamal.
They were ready to fuck up his mind.
Chapter Four
Luke slowly came awake. He literaly cracked open his eyes, all but glued shut with a layer of dried sperm. Still somewhat dazed from the knock out drops, it took him a moment or two to realize he was lying on a bed naked, between two equally naked black guys. A tangled mess of arms and legs. There was an awful taste in his mouth and his ass felt sore. He took a deep breath in an attempt to clear his head, which intensified the awful smell that surrounded his head like a fog.
"Hey you're finally up," Shaq said with a big smile on his face. "How are you feeling?"
"Who are you? Where am I?" Luke said, trying to shift out of the wet spot under his ass. That's when he noticed that his cock was not only erect, but seemed larger than usual.
"I'm Shaq and he's Jamal. We're at some motel you drove us to. Don't know the name."
"I drove us here?"
"Yeah, from the bar, remember? We had a few beers, you were talking about all the chicks you fucked. Then you offered Jamal and me a hundred bucks to come to a motel with you."
"I did?"
Luke got up from the bed and walked around the bare room. He saw the lipstick, condoms and KY jelly on the night stand. The movement caused the first drops of fake sperm to ooze out of his ass and run unnoticed down his legs.
The condom remained in place. "Where are my clothes?" he asked, hands covering his hardon.
"You left them in your car which is parked in the lot accross the street. Jamal took your wallet and cell phone for safe keeping, they're on the dresser with your keys."
Luke saw his stuff on the dresser and the hundred dollar bill under his wallet. Shaq's words took a moment to hit home. "I walked into this motel room naked! Like off the street...naked, outside...naked?"
As if only just becoming aware that he was naked with two naked guys, he looked around the room for a blanket or a pillow, for anything to cover his body. Especially his stiff cock which somehow seemed longer and fatter than ever before. He found nothing.
"We tried to stop you, but you insisted on taking off your clothes."
"I did?"
"Naked as a new born baby and you had a boner then too, just like now. Some nasty looking dudes started laughing at you and following us so I was glad when we got into this room and locked the door."
"But what am I doing here? And, and, why are you guys naked?"
"You asked us to take off our clothes," Jamal said. "Shaq and I both thought some girls would show up...to party, so we got undressed. Well, we partied, but not with any girls."
"Partied with who? I don't remember."
"With you, man. Shaq and I, we aren't that way, but we could use the money you offered."
"What way? What money?" Luke asked, totally confused. The fog was lifting slowly as the effects of the drug wore off.
The time to close the deal was at hand. Easy and casual, no threats or intimidation. Like a walk in the park.
"You know, faggots. But a blow job is still a blow job and you are one helluva cocksucker. I thought you were kidding when you got down on your hands and knees and crawled over to me. Then you looked up at me, from your knees, and asked to suck my dick. I still thought you were kidding until you kissed the tip of my dick and licked my balls too."
"This is crazy," Luke sputtered after a long minute of silence. "I'd never go down on my knees for a guy! I'd never kiss a guy's dick or lick a guy's balls! I'm not a fag."
"Oh really," Shaq said. Take a look at your knees."
Luke couldn't help but notice that his hands, knees and the top of his feet were scuffed and reddened. He looked at the rough, threadbare carpet that covered the floor. He shook his head no in denial, but could not shake away the thought that maybe just maybe he'd done exactly what Shaq said he had done.
"I've had lots of girls suck my dick, but none sucked as good as you. My balls were bouncing off your chin and you never once gagged on my dick. I warned you that I was close. Sperm is kind of nasty and I didn't want to do it to you because you seemed like a nice guy even though you're obviously a faggot."
Luke's head was clearing some now. His senses were coming back to life. He felt and saw the fluid running down his legs, forming a puddle at his feet. He smelled the smells and tasted the tastes of raw sex. Sex with all the girls he fucked. "I'm not a faggot," he mumbled without much conviction.
"You only stopped sucking me for a second, to tell me you wanted to eat my load. I guess it's hard to talk with a dick jammed in your mouth."
Luke recalled going down on a girl once, after he fucked her. Her pussy was soaked with his sperm...the smell the taste...disgusting. He never did it again. That was what he was smelling and tasting now. Cum.
"Please cum in my cocksucker mouth is exactly what you said. So I did. You swallowed it all then licked my dick and balls clean...left some red lipstick though. You even sucked some cum out of my pubes after you kissed my ass. Best blow job I ever got. Guys like you, faggots, are the best cocksuckers. I bet you can still taste my cum."
"I can," Luke sobbed as tears filled his eyes. "I can taste it and smell it. I think there's hair in my mouth. I'm not a faggot, shit, I'm not a cocksucker." Luke was rambling now. "I never sucked a cock in my life. Oh, fuck, I've got cum in my mouth."
"You're a cocksucker now," Jamal said softly. "You sucked Shaq's cock which makes you a cocksucker. For guys like you, faggots, that's not a bad thing. You liked it too, cocksucker, just look at your dick. Hey, maybe you're bisexual...sex with guys and gals."
"Cum in my mouth," Luke repeated softly to himself. The semen was real, he could taste it.
Jamal put a comforting arm around Luke's bare shoulder and steered him towards the mirror. It was his turn to torment Luke.
"Don't cry about a little cum in your mouth. I knew a faggot like you in high school. The cocksucker serviced lots of guys every day and swallowed a lot of cum. It never hurt him any."
Luke recoiled when he saw himself in the mirror. Sight is the most powerful of the five human senses. We believe what we see much more than what we taste, touch, hear or smell. Luke saw his lips smeared with red lipstick, his face, neck and body shiny with sperm. He believed what he saw, that he was covered with cum, reenforced by what he could taste and smell.
Most of what he saw on his body was, of course, the fake stuff. A typical ejaculation yields about a teaspoon of semen. Dozens of guys would have had to jack off on Luke to produce the same effect. He might realize that later, but not now.
What Luke saw now was the face and the body of a slut. A slut from years ago, in a motel room much like this one.
(To Be Continued)