Punk Kids: or Brent's Big Boner October 16, 2005
Disclaimer:
If you are not yet 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This story is for adults, and contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys initiated by them and with older men. This story is completely fiction, all descriptions and names are also made up, and any similarities are truly just that, purely similarities. I do not engage in or condone sexual activity between adults and teenagers which is regulated by law. These are fantasies for sexual private sexual enjoyment, not for emulation in real life.
I would appreciate comments on my writing. I certainly admire the good writers on the web, and consider myself still a learner. The end is almost here. Next chapter is the finale. I truly appreciate all the supportive comments I have received, and the suggestions. When I complete posting this story, I will post others from my collection. Please contact me at glaucon55@....
Johnny's Happy Ending-Chapter 15 Finale
The years passed quickly for Johnny, while they crawled for Brent and others caught in Johnny's traps. Brent graduated from high school the star of the varsity baseball team, and an good student. With Johnny supervising his every move, his hopes and dreams and ejaculations, Brent was a model of American male jockdom. But no one knew that he was a cock slave, prick controlled, and under the supervision of a boy younger than him. All they saw were his dazzling fastballs, his unhitable change-up, and the body of a Greek god. Girls continued to leak into their panties wishing they could fuck him, and boys outside of Johnny's circle, admired the muscular, handsome hunk that seemed to always get it right on the field, off the field, and likely in Amy's pussy.
When they graduated, Brent and Amy went to a small religious college upstate. Brent continued his baseball career in college, becoming a Division III All-American and an all-conference player. He also remained an all-American piece of boy beef. His five inch bone had filled out to a respectable eight inches, and the knob had grown fatter and more sensitive over the years. The wide flange around the glans was so sensitive that Brent could not stand to have a fist roil over his knob, especially after a cum, and yet that is what transformed him into an All-American sex pig. His long, hairy toes, his jutting, ripe nipples, and his tight, itchy anus were all geared by nature to make him pant with lust every time he was touched by other than his own hands. Hell, even touching himself, to take a piss, to wipe his anus after a shit, as he soaped himself in the shower, always seemed to make his prick thicken, gain tumescence. His briefs were constantly stained with dried fuck-sap from repeated drips of pre-cum from his itchy prick tip. Behind the appearance of pious devotion, All-American values, and those striking good looks, Brent's life had an entirely new dimension that Johnny had made possible.
Amy also had matured, from a naive junior high girl into a demanding highly sexual high school vixen. By the time they graduated, Johnny had shared with her his years of cock management, showed her the tapes, and made her pussy drool with the possibilities--all under the careful guidance of Johnny. After graduation, Brent was still under control in college, but now Amy was in charge with Johnny's blessing. Once they had settled in on the small, sleepy campus, Amy had found a brainy college geek with an oversized penis and libido who was happy to help her train and manage Brent. His name was Colin Cranford, and while skinny and shy, he had sexual needs that made him grind his prick into the bed sheets every night to spray thick wads of teenage spunk as he dreamed of hunky boys doing his bidding and girls who pussies itched constantly. Together Colin and Amy took complete charge of Brent who spent his first night standing naked in front of both, his hands locked behind his head, as Colin inspected every inch of his perfect body. Before that first night was through, Brent's unruly boner had spunked three times in Colin's relentless fist, his toes curling helplessly from the delicious friction that drove him so wild that Amy had to gag him. Together, they fashioned a routine that included paddling his ass, tying him down, and milking him endlessly for their pleasure--and his own.
Colin invented ingenious ways to drain Brent's fat nuts, and to make him perform even in public settings. One of Amy's favorite tricks was to have the three of them go out to dinner, and to have Colin, who for the opportunity to screw Amy had become a regular at the gym, unzip Brent under the table and slowly masturbate him to the edge of ejaculation for the entire period of the meal. Bent was not allowed to show any emotion, and usually when the waiter was dealing with Brent and the bill for the meal, Jeremy would focus on palming the big boy's throbbing glans--forcing him to curl his toes tightly, strain to keep his composure, and often sweat strangely even in an air-conditioned restaurant. Later, after Colin would be allowed to screw Amy, while Brent was bound and forced to watch---his prick drooling for relief, Brent would be required to both clean Jeremy's penis after his cum, and then lick out the cream pie from Amy's full pussy--giving her another cum. Together, Colin and Amy found many ways to have the handsome hunk drink other boy's sperm, as well as suck his own cock for relief. But no one would know that the star of the baseball team, and the wet dream of repressed boys and girls at the religious college, was a cock slut supreme.
When Brent graduated, he tried out for the minor leagues but the competition was just one level over his skills. He went on to the work world, taking a job in the nearest big town. That way, when he and Amy married they were able to blend into the background of the urban hustle and bustle. Brent became an assistant bank manager, dressed in handsome suits with leather cap-toes on his big boy feet. But more than once he had been taken into the vault by arrangement, and stripped naked to service hot young men and women whom Amy had discreetly obtained for sessions. No one knew how the handsome, well built young husband who seemed so much in control in every venture he pursued, was carefully governed at home, cock leashed at work, and always available to perform when instructed. Brent's boner had been conquered, mastered, and enslaved, and while it leaked beautifully and ejaculated powerfully, time and again, it was from age fourteen beyond Brent's jurisdiction. Now as he entered his young adulthood, he was just beginning to fully appreciate what it would mean for a lifetime of pleasure orchestrated for him and others, but not by him. Often he would stare at his throbbing bone, leaking and pulsing, helpless to take control of its beautiful, big knobbed and thick, wonder. Even the thought of stealing a moment of initiative over his bulging cock tip made his anus itch and his prostate throb. Brent was the poster-boy for those who wonder what rests behind the gorgeous faces of handsome, athletic young men--sexual need and surrender that is sublime.
When Wes graduated from high school and went on to college, Johnny knew that the big ego-driven boy could not stop seeking ways to have his fat cock serviced. All through middle school and high school he had found boys to crawl on the floor at his feet to get a suck on his fat, leaky glans. With a ready smile, and a sarcastically handsome expression, Wes made other boys seem small--and he liked it that way. Johnny had turned the tables on him once, and showed him how he could be made to surrender his body completely. Johnny showed Wes to what extremes a guy could be taken on his way to ejaculation, and Wes' constantly horny body readily performed. But it also showed Wes what he could do to other unsuspecting boys, especially those with big boy dicks and big boy bodies that had the germ of surrender in their personalities. After all, most guys don't want to think to hard; they just to be cock hard. They like to do what feels good, and shooting sperm is just about the most natural-feel good thing guys do. So Wes found big and small boys with hard dicks and uncontrollable urges to lick his toes, lave his anus, suckle his nips, and nurse his big cock head. But Johnny was only biding his time with Wes. When they got together through the interaction of their respective families, they kept a respectful distance from one another with Wes acting almost a bit leery of Johnny's shy smile. Over the years, Johnny wanted to make sure that Wes got accustomed to dominating other boys but remained fearful of him. For Johnny, waiting was a strategy, so that when Wes lost control again, he would long for it desperately, even though he would never have it back again.
When Wes graduated from high school, Johnny managed to give him a graduation gift that would transform his freedom into servitude. The gift was a music video DVD with a hidden program that downloaded into Wes' notebook. That allowed Johnny to monitor the older boy's e-mail and internet traffic on his laptop. Wes had gone to the University of Idaho, seeking the anonymity of a large school to seek his gratification and pleasures, while obtaining the college degree that would launch him on the road to financial and personal success. No matter how conservative the environment, no matter how homo-phobic the location, there are always boys who just need sex, constantly. At Idaho, the home of the “Vandals”, there were handsome barbarians for the plucking, and others who conquered with long cocks and perfect bodies. In the home of straight cowboys and the ultimate whitebread Christian values, cocks were none the less spitting cum and All-American boys were letting other boys play with their studly, jock forms.
Johnny soon learned from the big boy's “anonymous” chat room traffic that Wes had located which restrooms on campus had glory-holes where he could get a hot wet mouth to suck and lick his ever hard prick. That led him to provide an anonymous tip to another guy who frequented the internet sites used by boys on the campus trolling for subs and victims. So Johnny found a way to get Wes caught by a thirty year old campus security guard who loved capturing college punk boys, and blackmailing them into satisfying his own fantasies. The guard, using the same tactics that Johnny had used to gain control of Wes, caught the hunky boy on an unauthorized security tape as he was having his fat cock suckled by another kid in the school library basement. Wes was in shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops. His long, thick prong was jutting through his fly, sticking through the hole in the partition. Wes' hands braced against the metal divider to allow his body to lean into the hot sucking mouth that was servicing him. The guard liked the way Wes' hips swung back and forth as he walked down the basement hallway toward the obscure restroom, his muscled feet were pigeon-toed like most jocks, his taut ass cheeks framed perfectly in the shorts, the material clinging deep in his crack. Wes' t-shirt hung straight down on his moulded pecs, his diamond chip nipples thrusting out the soft cotton. The guard was persuaded…this big dicked jock-boy who ground his hips into the passionate blow job he was receiving and captured on tape, was going to be his toy. Both boys were busted. The short brunet who had been on his knees, vacuuming Wes fat cock knob, was also transformed into a cock slut for others he knew. But the guard, who saw the bigger boy uncontrollably growling with lust and satisfaction as he mashed his hips into the partition and thrust his rigid boner into the brunet's voracious mouth, kept Wes for himself.
From then on Wes became a bitch for the hunky security guard who summoned the big boy jock to his office, gave him copies of the tape, and explained it to him in direct terms. From that day on, Wes's big penis was cock-caged, and he had to spend hours learning to suck the guard's long thick toes and licking his furry asshole, before he was allowed to even touch the hunky rent-a-cop's short, thick up-curved prick. Wes was given regular physical inspections in back rooms of the basements of buildings on the campus. The guard would sit in a chair while Wes slowly stripped. Then the guard would unlock his mesh cock cage, and then perform an inspection that would make the boy's cock go rock hard and dripping wet. A thick, blunt finger would gently wriggle up Wes' sensitive rectum making his stand on his toes, and his stiff, rubbery teats would be pinched and scratched until Wes almost ejaculated just from the sweet sensation. Then there was that oversized, wide flanged, prick tip. The things the guard was able to do to Wes' pride and joy, turning him into a squealing, begging little boy, still insatiably horny and ready to spit spooge. There were nights when Wes was trussed with his arms crossed behind his back, ankles shackled to a spreader bar, and a ball-gag in his mouth while the malevolent light-skinned black guard pinched and plied his whorish tits, stroked his desperate prick to the edge of ejaculation, finger-fucked the athletic white captive, and turned him over his knees for a good spanking that made Wes's dick rain pre-fuck. He also learned to perform for the guard's buddies, a white dude and a mean Asian punk whose cock had a wicked down-curve as well as a thick knob. After having to jerk-off for their amusement--usually twice and once with by running a vibrator up into his own ass, he was forced to take a rubber filled with his own sperm, and empty it on his tongue to savor and swallow. Wes's nipples became legend, demonstrating over and over to anyone who touched them how much of a punk slut the handsome boy was, and how fast his cock became a hard clit the moment his nips even felt a hot breath, much less a scratch or a pinch. Many a night, strapped down on the bed of his security guard master, his nipples were suckled till he went to sleep, his penis throbbing and bobbing, sticky with pre-fuck, and often unrelieved. Like Brent, Wes lost complete control of his cock, and only achieved release when he was given permission. Until he was in his early thirties, Wes' ejaculations were on a schedule...managed by others.
Trevor Stockton was allowed to escape from his penance after high school. Johnny was intrigued by the big, languid redhead with the long legs and easy gait who grew to be 6' 7”. But he also enjoyed the kid's wry sense of humor, and willingness to try anything. Johnny sensed that Trevor knew how to enjoy sex, and that he would make the most of his opportunities in life. No need to put this big jock under restraint…he would be getting more than his share of interesting and fulfilling sex. As for Trevor, once he had been put through his paces in junior high and high school by Johnny, it was hard not to return to the sensations that had been his most fulfilling sexual experience for most of his teenage years. There was something special about having Brent McDermott, the jock king of the community licking out Trev's hairy asspucker, or suckling his long, thick toes. And it was cool to have a Priest and a cop lick his body from head to toe, even if he was tied down when they did it. Trevor couldn't get enough of hunky punks servicing his big body. After all, his cock shot wads of gism no matter the source of his stimulation. As long as he was not in pain, why not get his rocks off at the expense of others.
His pale skin, freckles, and red hair made him exotic. Neither girls nor boys could resist his size fourteen feet with their tufts of red fur on the top of the big and index toes. And it felt so good when he wiggled his long, thick toes in their mouths, as tongues slid over and around his pigs, sucking them like midget cocks. Trevor absolutely loved the way folks studied his toes when he was barefoot, or in flip-flops, almost like an act of worship. His high arches, slender heel, thick ankles and vein covered musculature made his feet look powerful, and yet they were so tender, pale and exposed. And when girls drew their long fingernails down his soft instep and strong heels, his cock would leak copiously. Yeah, life was good, and “suck my fucking toes” was an electric charge to Trevor's unruly boner…making its long pale shaft turn into a rocket ready to fire its jets.
On the basketball team in college, he found that one of the team managers was always looking at him, drinking in his handsome body and his thick cock when he walked to the showers after practice. But most of all, when he walked with that languid gait, bouncing on his big feet, his wide glutes big, pale and dimpled swinging back and forth, the kid was mesmerized. Trev would make sure he had the kid help him with his gear, and would slowly dry his toes, flexing them, often near the kids face as he picked up Trev's wet practice uniform from the floor of the lockerroom. He could see the kid's cock get hard in his sweats, and slowly, Trev got the kid to talk about sex, about being horny like Trev was, and how badly he needed his cock sucked. One night, after a Friday practice, Trev got the manager drunk, took him back to his apartment, and had the horny kid naked in no time and soon starting on Trev's wiggling toes. The manager became his personal college cocksucker, trained to lick Trev from head to toe when he wanted it. When Trevor was not getting laid by the numerous college girls who longed to be screwed by the team's star player, the hunky team manger would be under Trevor's sheets, sucking on the fat knob of redhead's insatiable boner, and grinding his own thick, stubby penis into the sheets for relief as he did so. Trevor would never allow the kid to masturbate when he was servicing him, enjoying the boy's helpless thrusting of his penis into the sheets in an effort to bring himself off, but knowing that an untimely cum would result in him being turned over Trev's lap for a bone-inducing spanking. Then there were times Trev made the boy perform a rut till he ejaculated, grinding himself on the bedding to a spurting cum before he was allowed to touch Trev's furry, muscled body---hell the kid was a cum factory anyway, he loved it. After college, Trev finished with basketball except in local leagues, and went to business school back East. He found everywhere he went, there were boys and girls ready to service his huge frame, long pecker, and powerful feet. Today he has a family, a good job, and discreet relationships with those who are drawn to “Big Red” and his easy-going, charming, handsome presence---and those toes.
Officer Connor Anderson resigned from the police force after two years, and he and his family moved to another town. Connor was torn up inside from having to submit to a teenage punk that he would bust if only the circumstances had been different. Plus, he had to endure the humiliation of being sexually submissive, of watching a Priest masturbate him in front of other men, and doing things that wounded his self-esteem. He hoped that his sudden change of venue, and the quiet relocation of his family without notice, would allow him to escape Johnny's stranglehold. But he was wrong. Johnny's mastery of the internet soon allowed him to track Officer Anderson through credit card numbers and the Social Security number he had obtained while the Andersons were still in town. In order to protect himself from future allegations or exposure, Johnny then searched the underground life of the town where the Andersons had relocated and found an alpha male in their police department who liked to make men and women submit.
When that Captain was sent a video and picture files of Officer Anderson from Johnny's stash, ones that could not be traced but were authentic, it was a matter of time before Connor was confronted by his fellow officer. Within days of that encounter, Connor was standing in a dirty rest stop john, his uniform pants and his briefs at his knees, his shirt open exposing his muscular chest, one hand locked behind his head and the other holding his prick while pissing for the Captain's amusement. He had to bend over, and finger his own ass, sliding his own thick index finger deep within his rectum and rubbing his fuck nut until he almost fainted from the sensation--grunting and moaning from the intense feeling, squeezing his ass muscles around his own invading digit. Then the Captain made Anderson slowly masturbate his thick prick into a cup while the Captain smiled and watched, sitting on a bench, the doors locked so he could humiliate the young cop.
Unfortunately for Connor, that was not the end of it. Soon, he was on his back on the bench where the Captain had been sitting, legs up to his chest, cinched under his knees and around his torso, and spread and tethered to a bar. Connor had a ball-gag in his mouth, two electric clips on his jutting nipples, and his Captain smiling as a slender anal prod covered with soft plastic spikes was slowly and gently inserted and twisted deep up and into his clenching rectum. Instinctively Anderson's rectum gripped the wriggling, buzzing device as it had earlier his index finger, and as it did anything that slid up his sensitive cop whore fuck-hole. As the Captain held Connor's huge fuck stick, gently thumbing the huge sticky knob, Connor rolled his eyes, and the big piss lips opened to eject bolts of thick man juice over his chest and up to his face. His size twelve feet were tightly curled as the aching sensation of his anal masturbation at the hands of this new tormentor drove him over the edge as it always did. There would be no more running. Connor was a broken man. He accepted his cock cage, and the schedule that he was forced to follow for screwing his wife to keep things appearing normal. But his bowling nights, card nights and softball games, often ended up with other men's pricks breaching his tight anus, and reaming his sensitive, itchy rectum. There were long periods when his cock was off-limits, and he grew to appreciate the rough fist of his Captain, if only to bring him tantalizingly close to the edge of release, and to torment his over-sized and needy glans.
The Captain had a special treatment for Connor that even Johnny had not devised in this most fiendish form. He was responsible for a canine unit, and the big, aggressive German Shepard had a well developed and carefully trained fetish for male cock. Sometimes to amuse his other cop buddies who helped him humiliate Officer Anderson, the Captain would have the hunky young cop tied face down to a special table, with his erect cock and balls thrust through an opening in the middle. With carefully wired electrodes stimulating every other part of his body from ears, nose, and nipples to his toes and anus, the Shepard named Stud would watch as Connor's oversized glans was basted by brush with honey, tickling the straight cop's sensitive cock knob causing it to leak pre-spunk. Then the salivating dog was released with the smell and sight of the tasty treat just beyond his chained reach. Once freed, he bounded to his victim, his long, dexterous tongue would go into over-drive, licking and slurping over the helplessly exposed cock head, forced down and erect like an oversized cow's udder. Man's best friend was prepared to suckle in Pavlovian style, endlessly and automatically. Better yet, when a squealing, yelling Officer Anderson ejaculated, the dog would intensify his licking in order to capture every starchy morsel and to stimulate the pleading officer's obscenely bloated glans and corona till he basically fainted from the sensation. That and prolonged bouts of tickling his big feet at the same time he was attached to a milker over his prick, could make Connor Anderson the most accommodating and compliant member of law enforcement in the County. To hear him squeal and beg was a treat that made even veteran masters leak copiously. Well after his children had grown and gone away to college to start their own lives, unbeknownst to them the handsome and athletic Anderson in his mid-forties was still spitting cum at the behest of his commanding officer, paying the piper for keeping his secret.
Father Richardson was a special case. Johnny did not mind managing the Father while he was in town, and in fact they had a friendly relationship. Father Richardson was a nice person, but he was unable to control the impulses that caused him to initiate sexual relationships with teenagers. Johnny understood when kids fooled around with each other, but he could not accept the Father seducing younger boys under the cover of his authority and the church. He had no intention of leaving the divine there to use his sacred office to entrap more boys. He had told Richardson this, and urged him on many occasions to stop using the confessional to meet his needs. But in spite of the Priest's cock restraint, time after time, Johnny would come home to tapes of the Father “ministering” to some boy's healthy boner, draining the juices from him as he panted and sweated to keep quiet as the young Father's hands or lips were milking him.
The straw that broke the camel's back involved a boy directed to the Parish from Juvenile Hall. Juwan Mckenzie was eleven and a half, but a well built, and physically mature black pre-teen. His mother worked two jobs to try to keep Juwan in the local Catholic school, so she could not monitor his behavior, especially after school. Juwan had befriended a thirteen year old boy named Devonne Johnson who lived in the same apartment building. For almost a year, Juwan had been grinding his already healthy five inch boner into the sheets of his bed at night, delighting in the excruciating sensations fucking his bed created for him. He could enjoy up to four dry cums consecutively, but after that his prick would be sore, and he had to stop the delicious friction on his fat, bloated prick tip. But Devonne had showed Juwan that there were ways to achieve his orgasms that did not require him to bruise his exquisite curved shaft and fat prick knob. Within weeks of meeting each other in the Catholic Middle School, Devonne was using liquid soap to milk Juwan to repeated dry ejaculations, making the younger boy his sex toy. It was only the unexpected arrival of Devonne's mother home early from work one day, that ended the after-school games. She complained that Juwan had been the instigating to juvenile officials, and both boys were separated and remanded to counseling. For Juwan, that counseling came from the local church at his mother's request, and the good Father Richardson was assigned his case.
Father Richardson could not believe his luck. He found a room in the church where Johnny could not trace his actions with the ubiquitous cameras and recording devices. There he soon had Juwan firm milk chocolate body naked and surrendering to his expert fingers. Juwan had firm diamond chip nipples that when scratched, made his pre-teen boner leak clear fluid copiously. He would rest his head back on the shoulder of the good devine, while sitting on the Priest's lap, and soon his nipples were plucked to stiff little cones and his fat prick knob was roiled in the Father's fist until the boy gasped and groaned his way to two and three orgasms each visit. He loved the sensations, and with his relationship with Devonne now ended, Father Richardson had become his source of surrender. As for the Father, he loved the way the slender, curved shaft was narrow at the base, widening to the flared knob with its wide corona and glass smooth glans that fairly fucked anything that grazed it. Juwan was insatiable, and the Priest unable to resist his charms. Accidently, Johnny learned of the relationship when Juwan came to confession one day, pleading with Father Richardson to increase the time they spent together. The Father was only able to meet with Juwan maybe twice a week under Johnny's strick regimen. The boy wanted to have his cock worked more regularly, and the confession confrontation and pleading were carefully recorded despite Richardson's efforts to stop the conversation once he realized what Juwan wanted. Johnny forced Father Richardson to stop seeing the boy, and to have another Priest take over his counseling. But the incident convinced Johnny that he had to do something with the Father before he left the area for college.
Before Johnny left for college, he made sure the good father applied for and was transferred to a remote Mexican village in the southern part of Mexico. Actually, Richardson never knew that he had applied for the new position. He thought that the Church had decided to send him to a new post where his talents were needed. But in fact it was Johnny using the magic of the internet and with the ability to hack the Church computer that set Father Richardson up for his new assignment. Little did the Father know that he had been secretly sold over the internet to an urban gang of drug dealers whose prison experience and life in the city made them desirous of a white male slave. They had enjoyed a couple of American prisoners, college boys who had been foolish enough to get caught in Mexico buying or dealing drugs, and then put in the jails where the gang had been incarcerated. There was nothing like a handsome American college boy, with his legs up over his head, his long athletic toes curling from the sensation as a thick Mexican cock slid up and down his hot, moist rectum. The thought of having one of these squealing boy-men for their use and pleasure while living far from regular police authority, seemed like a good arrangement. Once purchased (re-assigned), Father Richardson would be the local parish Priest, but his ministry would change dramatically once he arrived and settled. He would also spend time servicing the young, virile and inventive young men who had purchased him when he was not meeting the needs of the villagers as their devoted priest. His cock cage was wired to a small anal prod that remained inserted up his ass most days and nights. The head of the gang possessed the remote control that would send at his discretion a steady vibration humming up the Father's rectum at a moment's notice, forcing him to drool copious amounts of pre-cum from a constantly stiff boner, but never allowing him to ejaculate. This was how the Father gave confessions now, unable to play with his prick or control the sensations coursing up his rectum and buzzing his fuck nut as he tried to focus on the words being spoken through his cubicle screen; squirming on his bench like a man with a hemorrhoid itch.
Father Richardson's ejaculations were actually profitable for the gang. They were saved for a special apparatus that looked much like an automatic milker for cows. On special nights Father Richardson was placed on his knees, his wrists bound to his ankles forcing his chest and mid-section out. Braced with a special bolster, electric clips were attached to his nipples, on his balls, his ears, and at the opening of his nostrils and occasionally on his big toes. Then when the vibrator up his rectum was activated, the milker was placed over his cock head and secured. Finally, the electric current was switched on activating the buzzing clips. On those nights, the good father often was drained three to five times for the amusement of the gang or its visitors, and his sperm sold to sperm banks around the world on the internet.
As he approached forty, he became adept at knowing every cock, every asshole, and every set of toes in the group of men who owned him. They were handsome and virile, and they made him worship their bodies, sucking their thick, ever hard uncut cocks, and licking their sensitive, hairy ass holes. Each year, new young men were brought into the gang, and the good father could satisfy his lusts, even if he could not gain release to play with his own throbbing member.
Darren, Johnny's boyhood friend and confident, grew to be a strapping and naturally athletic young man. Darren never became the brightest bulb, but he was loyal and could not resist the many inventive ways Johnny had of milking sperm from his ever hard boner. His huge cock and over-sized balls produced endless amounts of sperm which Johnny carefully managed…and extracted. That's just the way Johnny liked it. He adored trying his newest ideas and inventions out on Darren, and his friend who liked nothing more than to shoot his sperm, rarely complained. After all, it was in the service of his friends plans, and since they were a team someone had to be the guinea pig. Never very smart, Darren continued to follow Johnny's direction. After high school, they even went to the same small college that Johnny had picked out where he knew Darren could gain admission, and far enough away from the beaten path that he could gain a foothold with his technological skills that would reduce enough handsome boys and men to provide him with a constant source of pleasure. To this day, Darren and Johnny remain together, Darren subservient to Johnny's needs and his plans, his cock securely under Johnny's management and supervision.
As for Johnny, he perfected the business of getting athletes, police officers, security guards, business jocks, and Army and Marine boys to surrender to his carefully executed traps. For three years after he graduated from college, he continued to work moving from one small town to another in the great rural and dimly educated stretches of Middle America. He made a specialty of Mormon boys. Then he left the United States to take his business activities to Eastern Europe where an endless supply of strapping young men with few resources and options make his selection opportunities even greater than in the United States. He markets and sells his DVDs of Americans he taped and recorded to an enthusiastic audience abroad. But he is also proving adept at getting poor and uneducated young hunks from Eastern European countries, from the recently freed towns and cities of the former Iron Curtain, where horny boys and American money are a perfect combination. Their lack of control and their big dicks eventually find many of them performing for Johnny in ways that will only sharpen his trade. All this started with a thirteen year old boy's sexual infatuation with the hunk next door, and how he managed to get the delicious Brent McDermott to surrender his big boy boner. Today, Johnny is a boner master, and boys and men from countries far and wide who love to cum are often squirting for him on a regular basis.
So ends the story of punk kids, high on sex, and the mastery and control of Brent's big boner.
The End
If you enjoyed this story, and have suggestions for me for other stories or concepts, please feel free to write me at glaucon55@.... I want to thank all the guys who took time to write to me, it was greatly, greatly appreciate. With the assistance many of you gave to me, there will be more stories in the future.