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 which may be a bit rusty. I certainly admire the good writers on the web, and consider myself still a learner. Please contact me at glaucon55@....
Brent Loses Control of his Cock
That night, Brent slept like a rock. He came home, had a snack for dinner, then went up to his room and stripped. After talking shit with a couple of his teammates on his cell phone, he lay back on his bed, idly scratching his nuts, and savoring his spooge release that afternoon. His cock tingled and stiffened. Fuck, there was nothing like getting your nut, and the memory of the rough fist sliding over his fevered cock knob, sending shooting sensations from his toes to his asshole to his tits, made him want to whack-off again. But he knew that he shouldn't. Coach always said guys who jerk-off won't be able to get it up when they have too...and he intended to screw Amy regurlarly when they were old enough. Now, he just had to make it through, and with this priest's help, he thought it was going to be ok. When he finished talking to the guys, he gazed into the mirror that hung on the closet door and captured his entire bed. He looked at his reflection, stretched out on the bed nude, his legs spread, thick toes pointed, and hands locked behind his head. His gaze traveled from the long, muscular toes, up his strong hairy legs, to the balls resting on his bedspread, his cock lying coiled, slightly tumescent and nested in his profusion of dark pubic hair, up to his pointed nipples, still stiff and a bit red from the treatment they had received from Father Richardson's fingers. Looking at his penis again, the slender, curved shaft and fat helmet still ruddy from his ejaculation, he noticed there was dried cum on the glans. He admired what he saw in the mirror, a handsome young visage and a perfect body to match. Life was good, and was soon to be even better and no one would be the wiser. Then he got up and went into the shower and lovingly soaped and shampooed himself. He played a Nintendo game, watched some television and then he climbed under his sheets naked and left the soft material caress him to sleep. His cock stiffened slightly at the memory of his huge ejaculation and he ground it gently into the sheets, chaffing the sensitive cock knob and making his prick harden again...but soon he was asleep, dreaming of pussy and baseball.
Next door, late into the night, Johnny was working furiously on the recordings he had made earlier in the day. First he created a video focused on Brent, capturing his words and various angles of his masturbation at the hands of Father Richardson. Next he created a similar one focused on Father Richardson. Then he produced carefully selected individual jpegs of the action, many cropped for close-ups which included facial expressions along with lewd sexual conduct. He sent an e-mail to Brent with a copy of the video and several jpegs. The message read as follows:
Brent, this is Johnny from next door. Please look at the attached video and jpegs. These were sent to me anonymously, but I have them and I think we need to talk. I have them posted on a web site on the internet that will automatically send them after a specified period of time, unless I stop it. In order to do that, I need to speak with you and come to an agreement. I have told my mother that you have volunteered to help me with my schoolwork after dinner this evening. My parents will be out visiting until about 10 p.m., so I'll see you here at about 6:30 p.m. Please come in your uniform after practice and your dinner^×don't bother to shower, I don't want to waste any time. If you fail to be here by 6:40 p.m., the video and pics will be sent to your teachers, the school's web site, and many of your friends including Amy. Do not share this message with anyone, tell anyone about this, or come with anyone, otherwise the video and pics will be posted.
When Brent awoke on Monday morning, he felt refreshed if somewhat still embarrassed by his own salacious conduct with Father Richardson. At the same time, the memory of what happened made his unruly cock stiffen...shit, he couldn't keep from getting hard. What if it happened in the lockerrom, or somewhere were people could see, it would be damn embarrassing. He had to find a way to keep his boners under control. If he could keep his new found mechanism for sexual relief to himself, if Amy was not available, no one would possibly imagine the star athlete of the middle school, handsome and smart, as anything but the All-American boy. Mothers adored him, father's admired him, and girls got wet pussies from thinking about him. And anyway, he reminded himself, he was following the advice of Father Richardson even if it was kinda strange and unorthodox. As he was dressing for school, Brent decided to stop in passing and check his e-mail in case Amy had sent him a message. When he opened his account, there was new mail, and he checked it immediately.
The message was from Johnny Berkland, the punk kid next door. Brent read the message, and stopped dead in his tracks his eyes gazing at the screen with a frozen, expressionless stare. It was like he could not understand what he had read. So he read the message again and as he processed the words, the hair on his neck stood up and he felt flushed and warm. He opened the zip file to download the attachments. He checked the jpegs, and as he opened each, his eyes went wider and wider. "Oh Jesus, it couldn't be...how the fuck, oh my God, how....how.....shit, fuck, motherfuck, bitch!" he murmured under his breath. The pictures showed Brent playing with his dick, moving to the screen in the confessional booth, his cock in Father Richardson's fist, another as his cock was spurting cum, and finally his prick exposed and him looking disheveled after he sat down on the booth's bench after he had ejaculated...his prick still drolling scum. The pics were so clear, his face and body were easily identifiable. Brent's hands were trembling, when he clicked on the video clip. As the image reader opened the file, Brent thought he would be sick, he had to turn down the computer speakers quickly...the sounds of his encounter with Father Richardson were clear and undistorted, and the film, the film, it was all there!
Brent did not watch the entire clip...he'd seen enough. He closed the image reader and file. Maybe he should trash the files, but Johnny's message said he had them...and unless he met with Johnny they would be sent to people. As if in a trance, Brent responded to Johnny's e-mail, saying he would see him tonight. They he paused and wondered if he should call Father Richardson. But Johnny had said not to speak to anyone...so he couldn't chance it Brent McDermott, teenage jock hunk was suddenly trapped, and the thirteen year old boy next door seemed to be his captor.
He walked out of his room with his clean baseball practice uniform in his athletic bag, books and other school stuff, then down and out of the house. The day seemed to go by minute by minute, an eternity. By the time practice had ended, Brent could hardly remember what had happened in classes and on the field. One thing for sure, he wasn't able to get the ball over the plate with any accuracy during the practice, and the pitching coach told him to shrug it off, and come back tomorrow---he'd be sharp the next day. But coach did not know what was on Brent's mind, what was distracting him. He even told Amy he couldn't meet her at the library that night. He was dreading every step as he walked into the house, told his mom about helping Johnny after dinner, and did not change from his practice uniform as instructed in Johnny's e-mail message. He couldn't eat much either, just picking at his food before getting up and walking out the kitchen door to go next door.
When Johnny answered the door, he nodded to acknowledge Brent and ushered the bigger boy into his house. Brent's practice uniform was dirty and still slightly damp. He was wearing his practice socks, leggings and pool slip-ons rather than his cleats. Brent betrayed no expression, and said nothing. He followed Johnny up the stairs to his room, but hesitated before he walked in. He spoke for the first time, his deep teenage voice having only recently changed and full of testosterone.
"Why are we going in there? he asked flatly."
Johnny, surprised to hear Brent's voice, turned and responded evenly and calmly, knowing that he would have to sound confident if this was going to work. "Brent, from now on, I suggest you do everything I ask. Father Richardson and you are both in huge trouble, and you've got everything to lose dude. You're the big star of the baseball team, you're the guy that makes girls get hot...you're Mr. Perfect. But none of the people who fall all over themselves admiring you know that you're a fag who likes other dudes to stroke his dick."
Brent broke in, "What the fuck are you talking about, Father Richardson was supposed to be helping me...I just did what he said to do. How the hell did you get those pictures and tape shit...fuck, I was just doing what he told me, you saw, you heard."
"All I know is that you and that queer priest were playing around in the church confessional booth, and there are a lot of people who would be surprised and interested in seeing Mr. Jr. Jock getting his dick played with by another guy in a church. Ya think?" Johnny amazed himself with his cool sarcasm and deliberate speech.
Brent said nothing, but looked down to his feet, his jaws clenching in anger and frustration at his predicament with this punk kid, but helpless to do anything. He had made one big mistake, and somehow he had gotten caught, and worse yet, the consequences could ruin his young life. He wanted to grab Johnny and strangle him, but all he could do is grind his teeth and submit to whatever stupid dare this dumb kid was going to exact. At least then it would be over. So he kept quiet and waited to hear what Johnny's blackmail would be. Little did Brent realize just how sophisticated Johnny's plan was, and just how much Brent would be required to pay for the promise of keeping his secret secure.
"Okay dude, this is how its gonna work. From now on, your big boy weiner is under my supervision...you get it, your entire body is mine to do with whatever I want once every week. The rest of the time, I'll direct how you are allowed to use it...if you are allowed to use it, and when. You will follow every instruction I give you, and if you do, this secret will be between you, me, and Father Richardson. If you choose to say no, then you can walk out right now, but you'll get a copy of the message everyone else will be getting. Your decision..."
Brent was incredulous, and the expression on his face showed his surprise. He assumed that he was going to have to play along with this jerk kid for one night, not on an ongoing basis...what the fuck was he gonna do? He wasn't about to let some punk kid blackmail him...but how could he stop him? The dumb kid had the pictures of him and Father Richardson...and for the life of him, he couldn't think of how to get out of his situation. "Johnny, common dude, this is fucked up...this is crazy, you can't do this. I don't want any part of this queer stuff...I just let Father Richardson help me out cause I couldn't be with my girl, and anyway he said it was okay, and that God and the church gave him permission...common dude, don't do this shit...please. I've always been nice to you, never screwed with you...so how bout it dude, common, please!" Brent looked pleadingly at Johnny, hoping that he could move the kid to be reasonable.
"Brent, it's only because I like you so much, and cause you've always been a good guy that I'm even proposing a deal that's so easy on you. Otherwise, I'd just send it to everyone, and let'em have at it...so this is a good deal dude, one that will keep your secret, and only require you to follow simple instructions each week. But one thing--- there's no saying no...there's no resistance, no lip, or trying to boss me, or intimidate me, or get anyone else involved. Any screw up with the rules, and it's over dude, and you're toast. And if anything happens to me, any bad shit like someone tries to beat me up, or hurt me... it's all over for you. Do you agree...remember, the clock on the auto e-mail message is ticking."
"Christ Johnny, fuck....oh fucking kay....Jesus...please don't do weird shit...please, just be cool dude, no weird or too queer stuff. If you want to jerk me off, or maybe suck me, okay...but no other stuff, kay?"
Johnny smiled a cynical smile behind his shades that he had been wearing the entire time just to act like he was cool. He wanted to keep Brent off guard, not to betray the boy behind the plan. Now he was in charge...Brent MdDermott had lost control of his own cock, and Johnny Berkland had carefully executed the plan to take control of the best looking kid in the middle school, and his big prick.
Chapter: 09 The First Surrender
"Brent, we've got about two and half hours tonight before my parents might return. I don't expect `em back until 10:00 p.m., but I want to make sure we don't have any close calls. So it's seven now, we're gonna start off slow, and I'm gonna give you a taste of how it's gonna be. Just remember, do what I tell you, and DON'T resist...got it dude? Kay, I want you to take off your shirt." Johnny sat back in the rolling office chair that went with his computer desk.
Brent looked hard at Johnny, and wanted to say something...but the punk had made the rules clear, any resistance would result in disaster for him. So without saying a word, he slowly unbuttoned his practice jersey shirt, and pulled it off his shoulders. He looked around for a place to put it, but Johnny told him to drop it, so he did.
"Now put your hands behind your head, and lock them there until I tell you otherwise, and spread your legs about two feet apart." Brent looked hard, and coldly at Johnny, but did as he was told, looking away from the younger boy so he would not make eye contact with his thirteen year old captor. Then he spoke, "now what abut the automatic e-mail dude?" Johnny indicated that he had taken care of it, but little did Brent know it was a bluff from the beginning. He would have had to activate the mail utility manually, but what Brent did not know helped Johnny close his trap.
Johnny got up from the swivel chair and walked up to Brent and with a trembling hand. He reached out with the index finger of his right hand to touch the dream he had been lusting for. Brent's pale dark-Irish skin contrasted to his dark hair, made him look so delicious. The finger made contact with Brent's firm abdomen, and as both boys watched with rapt attention, it trailed up the sculpted muscles, then around them. Brent winced slightly, breaking out in goose bumps from the sensation of the boy's finger trailing over his muscled form, but he also trembled from the ticklish touch which sent a sexual jolt through him. He could feel his cock beginning to unwind in his uniform pants, and under his jock strap. "Fuck," he thought, "he couldn't throw a bone in front of this creep kid; that would just make it seem like he liked what was happening." And yet his cock was betraying him, stretching so quickly, forcing itself outside of his practice strap without his cup, and grazing against the thick hair on his thighs. Maybe if this is all the kid wanted, he could get out before things got out of hand, or Johnny caught on to Brent's predicament.
Then Johnny's finger trailed down to the deep well of Brent's inny navel, thickly forested with curly black hair. His fingernail rooted into the hole, then found the soft mound deep inside and scratched gently across it, making Brent hunch from the ticklish sensation. "Shit," Brent had pulled lint out of his navel, but he'd never thought to scratch inside...it felt weird, and it felt good, and it just made his now rigid prong begin to leak clear sap onto his thigh..."fuck!" Johnny smiled broadly, this was going to be great. Now his finger moved more boldly, searching and deliberately tickling in the big boy's navel. Then he used his other index finger, to trace its way up to the firm curve of Brent's right pectoral, finding the coned nipple thrusting out of the edge, already hard in anticipation. Johnny's finger rubbed over the rubbery, mounded teat, and then he deftly grasped the rigid tit with his index finger and thumb, gently twisting it, then rolling it in his small hand. Brent grunted from the sensation... uuuuuggggggghhhhhh, closing his eyes and swaying gently, the wicked pleasure sending a jolt directly to his already erect prick, making it flex and more drops of clear pre-sap leak from the wide piss lips. Brent was furious at himself, but his finely tuned body worked like a well oiled sexual machine, turning to its primitive desire for release and pleasure at a moment's notice. Johnny was elated, he reached up with his other hand, leaving Brent's navel investigation behind for the moment, to grasp the other nipple. Wetting his fingers with some spit, and greasing the other nipple with it, he worked them both making Brent squeeze his eyes tightly shut as if he could stop the electric sensation of his nips being plied and rolled. Brent was helpless, and unconsciously leaned backward almost stumbling, and found he had to prop himself up against the desk to endure the amazing sensations on his tits, the feelings over-powering his senses. He tried to evade the wicked work against the erectile flesh on his tit nubs, but he couldn't resist the sweet sensation and as quickly as he bent over backwards, he thrust his chest up and allowed the younger boy's fingers to pry and twist his teats like some cheap date in the back row of the drive-in. Brent's penis was now fully erect and thrusting out from his jock strap, strangling and bent in his uniform from its natural up-curve, and leaking profusely each time Johnny's educated fingers tweaked his whorish tits. He might only be fourteen, but Brent was boner punk, a dick-brained teenager who wanted nothing more than to be brought to ejaculation as often as possible. With his tits being being mauled, and his cock out of control, Brent was sinking into sexual heat, forgetting his love for Amy and his vow to control his cock lust.
Johnny could read the horny submission on Brent's face, watching as the older boy licked his lips unconsciously, and he couldn't resist..."Dude, you got queer tits...they love to be pinched and pulled, huh...feels good doesn't it...yeah, dude, you got it bad...you really dig having me work these babies...oooohhhhh yeah...shit, their hard as rocks." So tell me dude, you leaking like a sieve in your strap...you like some pussy, wet and sticky. You need some relief Brent, huh, dude...tell me..." and as he spoke the salacious words and talked dirty to Brent, he tugged and scratched his fingernails over the older boys hungry nipples, making him groan and push out his chest, aching for more.
Brent's eyes were squeezed shut and he was gasping lightly from the buzzing sensation in his head and the drooling hardness in his cock caused by Johnny's lubricated fingers scrabbling over the jock stud's needy titties. Brent was hoping against hope that he could resist the feelings that made him turn his body over to anyone who could pleasure his remarkable boy prick. As he continued to play with Brent's tits, Johnny gave him more instructions. "Undo your pants, and lower them to your feet while yer standing there." With his eyes remaining closed, Brent robotically followed Johnny's orders, pushing the uniform pants down to his ankles. Brent was now standing in his stockings, his leggings and his jock. The strap protruded obscenely because of his erection, the wicked curve of his long slender shaft forcing the material of the pouch outward and exposing the dark hairs around his cock root as well as the fat balls that were full of teenage spunk. Johnny stopped the tit play to get his chair, and rolled it up in front of the teen hunk, and sat down again. He couldn't resist, and lowered his nose to the still damp jock strap pouch and inhaled deeply. His nostrils were filled with the pungent starch and bleach of male testicles and boy ball sweat. Jesus, Johnny loved that scent, and he allowed his nose to slip into the side of the bulging strap where Brent's big balls and cock were exposed so that he could rub it up and down as he continued to inhale the teenage boy funk. For his part, Brent was startled, but couldn't resist the face of the younger boy, thrusting his hips slightly forward so his nuts and cock root would rub against the soft skin, causing his dick to throb.
Johnny pulled his head back and leaned back in the chair then used both hands to grasp the elastic waistband of Brent's strap and lowered it until it rested underneath the fat duck egg sized balls. Brent's huge erection swung out and up, heavy in the shaft leaning down but curved decisively upwards with the fat plum of the knob already sticky and wet with the clear pre-sap, droplets falling as it swung. Brent's shaft was a boy's dream cum true. The shaft was turgid and thick, yet slender. It jutted from above his testicles narrow at the base, but flaring until it reached the wide, fat helmet of his prick knob. There the bulging glans, with its deep pisswell, flared obscenely, exposing a wide flange or corona studded with sensitive bumps. The veins were not overly present along the pale shaft, but the thick root traveled along the bottom of the shaft disappearing into the ball sack, and the ruddy knob was now wet and sticky with copious clear juice flowing from the piss lips. Already 6 inches in length, Brent's boner was the promise of what would come as the boy's body matured, and his sexual equipment grew with him. Without a moment's hesitation, Johnny returned one hand to Brent's erect and pointed nipples, and the other grasped the huge boner just as Father Richardson had, underneath the corona. Tweaking the tits, and gently twisting them, Johnny used his other palm to gather the copious boy leak from the knob and piss well of Brent's prick. He employed the same masturbation form that worked so well on Darren's fat knobbed weiner. Forming a kind of claw or spider with his fingers, Johnny grasped the bloated tip of Brent's dripping cock, and let the pads of the fingers roam round the fevered glans, twisting and scratching lightly. The bigger boy gasped from the ticklish sensation, then lost control, bending and hunching to evade the incredible sensations from Johnny's maddening fingertips. But Johnny ordered him to straighten up and lean backwards again against the desk. The helpless Brent surrendered to the incredible sensations coursing over and around his fat cock tip, and Johnny relentlessly toyed with the throbbing organ, until the grunting Brent could feel the tightening in his balls. Johnny was ready to ejaculate in his own shorts, giddy with the opportunity to control and play with the bigger boy, to hold and masturbate his big boy bone, and to make him into a whimpering punk allowing his most precious possession to be touched by another kid. Brent's breathing got deeper, and it was speeding up, his toes in the dirty practice socks curled as the sensation caused him to clench his ass cheeks...he was close, so close, now thrusting his hips to the twisting, squeezing, rubbing finger tips working his bloated glans. His knees began to tremble and shake, and he buckled his knees slightly as the build-up to his ejaculation began.
But Johnny had different plans. His removed both hands, and left Brent's rigid cock bobbing and pulsing, and the big boy gasping. "Nice try Brent, but not so fast...we've got lots of time, and I want to try some other games with you. First I want you to take off your jock, your socks and leggings, then get up on my bed on your hands and knees." Brent looked at Johnny coldly, but making a deep sigh, he stripped, then climbed up on the bed, and got on his hands and knees. Somewhere in his confuse mind he now wanted Johnny to continue and to relieve the throbbing ache in his balls. "Now put your head down on the bed, and leave your ass up in the air." Brent did as he was told. Johnny took the damp socks from the floor and forced them into Brent's own mouth. His own slightly stinky socks were now jammed between his lips, making them into a gag.
Johnny then wheeled his chair over to the side of the bed, and in his lap was a shoe box. He placed it on the bed, and opened it. It was filled with all kinds of toys that Johnny had collected to use on Darren. But he also had some additional devices that he was going to use for the first time. Brent's eyes widened as he saw the wicked devices that Johnny had conjured up for his penance.
The first thing he did was to take Brent's wrists, and using some novelty handcuffs he had purchased when his family went to the county fair earlier in the summer, secured them behind Brent's back. Next he took an old broom handle that had two velcro cuffs that Johnny had nailed and glued about three and a half feet apart on the pole. He attached the velcro cuffs around each of Brent's strong, hairy ankles, forcing his legs apart and preventing him from moving them together. Leaving Brent's head down on the bed, he assisted Brent in getting to his knees so that his ass was sticking up, his weight resting on his knees, and his feet were spread. Next he took some rope and fastened it between Brent's wrists and each ankle cuff. That way, Brent was forced to remain on his knees, and secure into the position.
As he finished securing the boy's ankles he looked at the size ten feet with their high arches, wide balls, and long, thick toes developed from years of competitive exercise. He dragged his finger down the soft exposed soles, and helpless to move, Brent shuddered and yelled for Johnny to stop, almost tipping himself over from his gyrations to avoid the tickling finger. But Johnny ignored Brent's pleas, and scrabbled his fingers over the big boy's pale, vulnerable feet, making him howl and wriggle his toes, desperately trying to move his feet to avoid the younger boy's unforgiving digits. >From behind his sock gag, Brent squealed and cried, the words muffled and yet Johnny knew what he was saying: "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA.....NO, NNNNOOOOOOO... PLEEEEEEAAAAASSSSEEEE, NO, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA......!" Much to Johnny's delight, the helpless boy squealed and curled his toes, but he also regained his rigid erection now bobbing between his legs, the tickling causing him to lose control and stimulating his big, over-sexed body.
Johnny abruptly stopped, and went back to his chair and the shoe box. Inside was a two inch paint brush that Johnny had cut short, so the bristles were standing up firm and yet soft. Brent now had a pale sheen of perspiration over his body from the exertions caused by Johnny tickling his big feet. Now that sheen created a gentle itch across his body, and the bristles from Johnny's paint brush would exacerbate the sensation.
Taking the brush firmly in his right hand, Johnny started at Brent's face, turned towards him, the side exposed as the boy was positioned on the bed. Eyes, ears, lips, Adam's apple, patiently Johnny brushed and scrubbed the firm bristles over every inch of Brent's body. He reached under the elevated stomach and found the edge of the coned nipples, making them crinkle from the scratchy bristles, and then down the firm abdomen and into the navel, across the hips and then over every contour of the legs and thighs down to the ankles. He saved the feet until after he had parted the small, tight mounds of the Brent's buttocks, and bristled the brush back and forth over the neat little slit of his anus, the ragged slice that led to his private and most masculine barrier, his rectum. Brent, grunted and yelled in his gag, begging Johnny not to touch his male portal, but Johnny made sure the brush worked its wicked magic over and over the clenching hole, and his firmly tightened sphincter. "Noooooo.....no, not there...stop it...aaaaaagghhhhh, no, aaawww, fuck, stop Johnny, common dude....aaaaaaggghhhhh." But Johnny danced the brush back and forth, and dabbed it into the hole rapidly, getting some of the bristles into the taut entrance, making Brent's eyes go wide and hinting at things to come. In the meantime, between his legs, Brent's sharply curved bone jiggled and dripped, leaking its boy sap onto the bed below. Johnny took note, knowing that he would save the best for later.
Johnny used some rope to secure the spreader pole to the ends of the bed, and then tied ropes from Brent's wrists to the top of the bed. That way, Brent was prevented from falling over on his side...and his body was tautly secured for Johnny's explorations. Now Johnny could focus on Brent's athletic feet, without worrying that the big boy's struggles would result in him falling over and injuring himself. After working across Brent's feet for ten minutes, alternating with his fingernails and the brush and making the big boy howl, and his cock drip insanely, Johnny stopped to allow him to catch his breath. He removed the sweat sock gag, now soaking with Brent's spit. He wanted to hear everything that the older boy was going to say.
"Oh fuck, please dude, stop...can't take, shit, fuck...please, don't do this...oh Christ, lemme go Johnny, please dude, lemme go..." Brent's pleas were elixir to Johnny's ears, making his own boy bone ache from excitement.
It was time for the main event. He crawled onto the bed, and slid on his back between Brent's bound legs. Brent looked back as best he could his face wet with perspiration, and saw the boy getting in between his raised legs. He tried to lower his midsection, but the ropes prevented him from moving his knees. Johnny slid under the bigger boy, then with a perfect view of his chest, abdomen and crotch, took up his brush and went to work. Starting with Brent's deep navel, he trowelled the bristles into the tender opening, whisking them around and searching out the sensitive interior. Brent gasped and then howled, pleading again for the younger boy to spare him. "Oh fuck...stop... aaaaahhhhhgggg, nnnno, nnnno.... Oh shit, please, please, Johnny, dude... oh fuck...aaahhhh... ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha..... nnnoooon..... nnnnooo.... Aaaahhhh! But like a careful artist, Johnny made sure he scratched the itchy bristles as deeply into the older boy's navel as he could, and then danced them over his abdominals, with a side trip to his nipples, and then back. As he continued to brush over the taut muscles of the bound jock, he used his free hand to grasp a nipple and gently tug and pinch it or to root into his navel when the brush was working over a stiff nipple. All the while, Johnny watched as Brent's throbbing boner bounced and leaked, wetting his shirt as he lay under the helpless teen.
Johnny was through with this portion of his investigation; it was time to move on. "Dude, you want to get you off? Your dick's like some cunt's clit, hard and wet, so you want me to jerk you off or something?" Brent remained quiet, unless Johnny grasped a tit, or stuck the brush into his navel, and then his yelps and groans were instinctive. He was determined not to give the kid any satisfaction, and yet his cock knob itched insanely from the wet sap drying on the tender, sensitive glans. There was nothing more Brent wanted but to have some fist close over his cock head and masturbate him thoroughly. But he did not imagine what Johnny had in mind.
Johnny grasped Brent's fat nuts in his fist, gently gripping them and instructing Brent to stay still. The big boy did as he was told, and then Johnny squeezed one nut in the sack so that the skin was taut without trying to put the hurt on Brent. Using the short bristled brush, he began to work it back and forth over the testicle, causing more ball sweat to waft into Johnny's nostrils and making his prick leak even more in his shorts. Brent squealed from the sensation, so ticklish and so strange, making his nuts ache slightly. "Oooooh fuuuuuucccck, dude, yer killin' me...aaaawwww, no, aaaaawwww, shit, not my nuts, fuck..... aaaahhhhhhhh." But nothing Johnny did made Brent's prick lose its stiff, drooling posture, and having the older boy's testicles in his hands, tickling and gripping them, gave him a feeling of control that almost caused him to ejaculate suddenly. He had to squeeze his sphincter tightly, and put pressure on his own throbbing erection, to prevent himself from filling his shorts with spurts of his boy juice. From nut to nut, the young teen teased and bristled Brent's eggs until the older boy's pleading finally moved him to stop and give him a brief respite.
Brent's thrashing and exertions, his panic and turgid state, had produced the delicious boy smells that accompany any athlete, tinged with the hint of soap and fading scent of deodorant. Johnny inhaled these smells as he contemplated the final part of Brent's introduction to cock control, and the gasping teen was able to catch his breath before the next round began. Johnny reached up and grasped the thick curved shaft in his left hand, and then starting from the perineum to the balls, carefully brushing the sensitive orbs, scratching them all around with the stiff bristles. Then down up the root of the thick cock shaft, with a slow deliberate brushing from the narrow root to the flared glans with its huge knob. When the bristles began to scrap across the veined, pale shaft, Brent spoke up, shocked by the sensation of the brush on his pride and joy. "Oh fuck Johnny, be careful dude, oh, shit, it feels so weird, aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh, fuck, oh man, oh shit, aaaaaagggghhhh.... oh Jesus, it feels so Christ...oh fuuuuucccccckkkkk!." Brent could not describe how the soft but firm bristles felt as they worked their wicked way up to the flared corona and its bevy of nerve endings. That's where Johnny wanted to go...that is where he'd been waiting all this time to get, to work the sensitive cock knob of the middle school jock wonder until he begged for mercy.
Johnny pulled the little loose skin of the shaft back, and made sure his brush worked from one side of the flange of the corona to the other, making Brent breathless: "Oh dude, what're doing to me...oh gooooooooodddddd, help me....aaaaaaahhhhhhhh, you're killin' me dude....please Johnny, please....oh, don't dude, don't, my knob, my fucking knob!" But Brent's deep voice and his hapless pleading were music to Johnny's ears, mostly because the big boy's knob was leaking like a sieve, drooling clear pre-boy fuck which only made Johnny's torturous bristles even more deadly on the exposed and glans. "Yeah," Johnny thought, "this is what these big dudes need, they need to have their fat cock heads worked till they are dizzy...that would teach em some manners, and make em realize where they should be in the pecking order." He re-doubled his efforts, and kept Brent panting and pleading for thirty minutes, tickling his cock tip till the big boy promised to do anything if Johnny would only stop.
"You'll do anything I ask dude?" Johnny said in an even voice?
`Yes, Johnny, anything, common man, stop, for Christ sake, give my prick a break....!"
"Okay, I'll stop...but when we start again, you've got some real fun stuff to do...and if you try to back off, they we're right back where we started, with you all over the internet...go it Brent?"
The defeated older boy, still gasping for break, hurried to acquiesce. "Kay, kay...I promise, I promise...now STOP, PLEASE STOP!." Johnny used the brush one last time over the glans and around the corona, watching as Brent curled his feet for the last excruciating time...and then relaxed as the bristles slid off. Little did he know that his next situation would hardly make him feel as if the trade-off was worth it.
Johnny released the ropes and helped Brent sit up on the bed, and then released his left hand from the metal hand-cuffs, but cuffed his right hand to the spreader bar that was attached to his feet. This configuration caused Brent to sit on his ass, his torso upright, and his feet were planted on the bed, his knees bent up and apart, principally because his one hand was attached to the spreader bar. Johnny climbed onto the bed, his prick hard and dripping in his jeans, and slid behind the seated Brent. His chest was against Brent's naked back, and his legs were spread and outside Brent's hips. Johnny looked around Brent's torso so he could see the pendulous cock, still tumescent. Then Johnny slid his right hand under Brent's right arm, and reached for his turgid little right nipple, squeezing it gently, and again rolling it. Immediately, Brent groaned from the sweet sensation of his tit being manipulated, and he hunched slightly, forcing the mounded pec into the fingers that were toying with its rubbery teat. Johnny's other hand slid down from the left side and reached under Brent's big balls, now resting on the bed. His index finger wormed its way past the connection between balls and ass, and zeroed in on the hairy little boy slit of the fourteen year old athlete. Within moments, Brent's prick was once again hard and throbbing, its head leaking more pre-ejaculate.
Now Johnny spoke, giving Brent his new instructions. "Okay Brent, time for you to keep your promise." Johnny picked up a bottle of lubricant, and told Brent to put his left palm out. When he did so, Johnny squirted a large dollop of the smooth, sticky cream into Brent's hand. Then Johnny spoke further on Brent's duty: "Now I want you to grab your weiner in your fist, but not the shaft, only the head. I want you to slowly masturbate yourself to ejaculation...but you can't cum until I give you permission. And while you're jacking that big mother, this is what you're gonna say...." Brent was groaning softly from the tickling of his ass pucker, and the twisting of his tit, but he could hear Johnny's words.
Brent's pig paw, the same one that delivered stinging fastballs and a brilliant sinker for a teenage boy of fourteen, was now palming his fat cock head, basting the sensitive glans with the lubricant on his fist, mixing it with his own slippery pre-cum. The moment his rough palm, callused from gripping the baseball, slid over the big prick knob, Brent groaned aloud: "OOOOOhhhhhhhhhh fuck.......aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh, Jesus, it's too sensitive, too much....oooooooooowwwwwwwww." Little did Brent know that when Johnny had squirted the lubricant onto his fist with one hand, he had switched on his video camera with the other. Being behind Brent, the lens was only capturing two anonymous hands tweaking Brent's tits and fingering his boy pussy, while the big teenage jock was palming his own fat cock head while he groaned and moaned like a whore for the camera. It was another triumph for Johnny, and another step down the road to enslavement for Brent. But there was more to cum....
Johnny, still behind Brent, began whispering into the older boy's ears (and occasionally letting his tongue glide into the sensitive canal), words he wanted him to repeat out loud. At this point, Brent's sexual heat had turned into a frenzy, and the same glaze that overcame him with Father Richardson was descending on him in Johnny's bedroom. Even though he should resist, he couldn't and anyway he was trapped in this deal with the devil to prevent the video clip with Father Richardson from being shared with the world. Johnny did not miss his opportunity to get not only pictures, but words on his new viedo: "Feels good doesn't it Brent, dude, you love it...stroking that fat fucker, getting your tits pinched, and a finger at your cunt...so say it for me, say it for me..., `I wanna cum, I need to cum, all the time, every day, constantly...please, let me cum...' say it dude, say it."
Brent was sliding to oblivion...his cock head was aching and throbbing, and the more he twisted his fist around it, the more he wanted to do it..."Aaaaaagggggghhhh, oh fuck, oh shit....aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh yeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhh, oh yes, oooooohhhhhh...I wanna cum, I gotta cum....I need to cum....fuck, all the time....ooooohhhhhhh shit, please lemme cum..........AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!" Johnny was ecstatic...he had it, Brent McDermiott as teenage boy slut all in living color and sharp detail. He middle school's saint and hunk, revealed as the cum needing slut punk that rested beneath that handsome face and luscious body. He may be shy in the hallways and when smiling at the girls in classes, but once his cock was hard and his teats plucked, he became the trash punk that lives in every teenage boy. Now Johnny had him and he was going to make sure that he got to enjoy this Brent McDermott on his own terms from now on.
The combination of Brent's copious pre-ejaculate, flowing from every pulse of his erect prong twisted in his own relentless fist, and the drain of the creamy lubricant Johnny had poured onto Brent's palm, had drooled down between the big boy's thighs and all the way to his ragged boy slit. There it lubricated Johnny's worming index finger, and assisted it in breaching the tight sphincter that Brent wanted to keep intact. But the tantalizing sensation of a finger scratching and teasing the entrance to his male cunt, like he had occasionally done when he was masturbating in the privacy of his bedroom, caused Brent to release his clenching anus and let Johnny slide his probing, insisting digit into the hot, moist rectum. When Johnny's finger reached the hidden clitoris within Brent's boy pussy, it was as if someone had thrown the switch and turned on every circuit in the teenage hunk's body.
In all the times that Brent had stroked the entrance to his male cunt, tickled the anus, and even slipped his fingertip inside when he jerked off in the shower, he had never forced his finger deeper into his rectum. He knew that was where his doctor would go, but the sensation was so intense that he could never bring himself to touch his fuck nut. But Johnny knew that with the right stimulation, Brent would fire like a cannon, blasting his boy seed in torrents from a good frig of his prostate. When Johnny's experienced digit slid unerringly to the teenage boy clit, and then gently rubbed back and forth over it, Brent's eyes bulged, and he hissed like a snake: "ssssssssssiiiiiiiiiiiissssssssssssss!!" He couldn't do more, other than to tighten his masturbating fist around the suddenly expanding glans of his penis. His piss lips widened, and shooting from his curved cock, up to his face and chest, were long streams of teenage spunk. The jism squirted over his torso, splattered against his face, and seemed like it would never stop; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight shots before the juice thickened into a white drool that spilled over his fist and coated the aching cock knob. "AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH, MOTHERER FUCKER, OH SHIT....JESUS CHRIST.....AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.... OOOOOHHHH YES, OH MOTHER-FUCKING YES.......!!" And every word Brent ejaculated along with his sticky, white boy spooge, was captured on Johnny's video camera.
Johnny let go of Brent's nipple, and slid his right hand down to grasp Brent's fist before the older teen could let go of his sensitive cock tip. He wanted to make sure that Brent worked his overwrought knob for thirty more seconds, making him squeal and grunt from the excruciating manipulation of his helpless and whorish prick head. "Oh fuck, common dude, lemme go...oh God damn...yer killin' me....no, nnnnnooooooo. please, mother fuck....pleeeeaaaasssseee, aaaaaaawwwwwwww, dude...nnnnnnoooooooo." But Johnny kept his fist over Brent's and the bigger teen just submitted, allowed his fist to be used like a glove to work the tingling, ticklish glans, forcing it to remain bloated and stiff, keeping Brent working himself, unable or unwilling to stop the agonizing friction. Brent through his head back on Johnny's shoulder, the older boy submitting to the exquisite tickling that was making him grind his teeth once again, but this time in horny pleasure, bordering on pain. Johnny had a real teenage boy slut in Brent, a guy who could not stop playing with his penis no matter how much his rational self told him to stop. All Brent could do was wheeze groan, and let Johnny use him: uuuuggggghhh..... uuuuuugggghhhhh....uuggghhh." When Brent's fist fell away from exhaustion, Johnny could not resist sliding his own palm over the big teenagers prick head, making him twitch and flinch from the sensations, but too weak to stop the younger boy. Instead, Brent just lay back and let Johnny's hands roam over him, finally accepting the fact that this thirteen year old punk kid from next door was now in charge of his hunky, athletic body.
There was about an hour left before Johnny's parents would return, so he took Brent to the bathroom. He left on the spreader bar, making the bigger boy hobble, and re-cuffed his wrists behind his back. In the bathroom, Johnny made Brent pee, but held the big boy's penis, telling him that from now on, his cock was not his to touch without permission. Brent was exhausted and defeated. He said nothing, but groaned as his already sore and spent prick started to erect again. Johnny laughed, "wow dude, you're a real whore huh, can't stop it from getting hard dude, just like your prick being touched and played with...fuck, what a boy pussy you are..." Through his half hard erection, Brent was finally able to piss, and when he finished, Johnny played with the big boy weiner just to make it hard and to humiliate Brent more.
Then he told him to bend over. Brent looked perplexed, and turned to stare at Johnny. That's when he saw what the boy had in mind. Behind him hanging on the shower door was a hot water bottle with the douche tube and nozzle attached. "Oh no Johnny, common man, you've had your fun, lemme shower and go home...please dude, don't do this." But Johnny ignored Brent's pleas, and just pushed on his back to keep him bent over, then as he gripped the slender nozzle and tube, he told Brent what was going to happen. "Kay dude, I'm going to slip this up your shit chute and release the soapy water. When I pull the nozzle out, squeeze your butt tight otherwise you'll dump your shitty guts out on the floor and all over your legs." Then Johnny greased the nozzle, and gently worked it into Brent's anus. The big boy groaned again, and gasped when Johnny purposely made it bump Brent's prostate. But he was soon distracted by the flow of water into his rectum and colon, and suddenly, he felt like he was full. Johnny clamped off the hose, and then warned Brent as he slowly pulled the nozzle our of Brent's tight anal cleft. "UUUUUUgggggghhhhh, dddduuuuuddddee, lemme sit on the toilet...please, PLEASE, ooooooooohhhhhh fuck, I can't hold it, I can't hold it....!" But Johnny was watching Brent's cock. The pressure in the big teen's rectum and on his prostate had caused the teenage jock's cock to fully erect, and once again Brent was leaking sap. Nature had built Brent for sex, and Johnny was exploring every way in which to make the hapless jock prick hard. Finally, Johnny helped Brent sit down, his penis thrusting up and curving to his body, drooling clear pre-cum, as he evacuated his bowels on the toilet. The smell was initially bad, but Johnny had put on the exhaust fan, so it wasn't too much to bear. Then Johnny repeated the procedure again, even though Brent pleaded with him not to, and once again, Brent's cock was rigid, leaking sap all down the shaft and coating the big knob. Johnny steered him to the toilet using his thick boy dick as a handle, and while he evacuated his bowels, Johnny teased the bulging cock head. This time, Brent's enema water was almost clear, so Johnny had finished his task.
Next, Johnny walked Brent into the shower stall, big enough for two people. He secured Brent's cuffed hands over his head on the thick shower pipe that jutted out of the wall. Brent was stretched out, his feet still tethered to the pole, looking beautiful and helpless. Johnny stripped down naked then turned on the water, making it warm and comfortable for both boys. Jesus this was the coolest thing Johnny could possibly imagine, the best looking kid in the middle school, dick hard, bound, and in his shower with Johnny calling the shots and soaping the kid, making his moan and purr from the sweet sensation of someone caressing his big body. Johnny started at his feet, and worked up both legs, under the balls, into the ass crack, over the stomach and back, then the arms and neck. Johnny wanted to wait to soap out the boy's navel, to milk his sweet nipples, and to masturbate the big cock. Before he milked him again, though, he kneeled in front of the teenage adonis and slipped the fat cock head into his mouth and sucked for all he was worth. "Uuuuuummmmmm......slurp, suck......uuuuuuummm, suck, suck, slurp." The sweet nectar of Brent's pre-cum drooled onto his tongue, and he lashed the sensitive corona and glans with his dextrous tongue. Johnny gave himself five minutes of sucking, as he watched the bigger boy lean back against the wall, and surrender to the wonderful sucking on his ever ready tool.
Now it was time to drain Brent's balls again. Once again he stood behind Brent, and let his own erect penis, slide into the boy's ass crack, then he reached one hand up to his nipples and used the other soapy fist to slide from root to knob on Brent's horny prong. "Can't help yourself huh dude...huh Brent, just love it when someone strokes your ccck...like Father Richardson, like me...just need to have your prick played with all the time, huh." Brent said nothing, but his moans spoke a thousand words, revealing that no matter what his conscience said, his cock wanted to be used and played with. As Johnny spoke, he concentrated his efforts on the fat cock head that so recently had been thoroughly massaged by Brent's own fist. But for whatever reason, Brent's sensitive cock head still craved to be stroked, and so Johnny's roiling, soapy fist felt delicious masturbating the fat, leaking glans. At the same time, he twisted and rolled the older boy's erect tits, making him lean back against the smaller boy, pushing both of them against the wall, and bowing Brent's body for complete access to Johnny's ministrations. At the same time, Jonny slide his rigid boy dick back and forth in Brent's muscular trough, grinding his own ticklish glans into the anus and hairy trench. Back and forth, back and forth he fucked, and as he screwed his prick into the jock hunk's crack, he slid his fist up and over the boy's straining erection. Soon both were grunting like farm boys screwing sheep.
It took only ten minutes this time, because Johnny was conscious of the clock, but soon Brent was whining and hunching as the smaller boy's unrelenting fist milked another good cum from him, four spurts of jism, and a steady drool over the slowly grinding hand. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH....tooooo sensitive.....aaaaaaahhhhhh, nnnnnnooooo, oh fuck, ohhhhhhhhhhhh....shit, mother-fuck....aaaaaaaaahhhhhh." Then Johnny gave Brent a break, and let his still hard prick go. Instead, he continued to screw his own prick into the older boy's ass cleft, and within a minute he too was squealing with pleasure as his thirteen year old cock spit five small wads of boy juice onto Brent's anus, basting it. He washed the boy off, and then walked him out of the shower and patiently dried him from head to foot.
Back in the bedroom, Johnny laid out the score. Brent would not ejaculate without permission from Johnny. But just to make sure, he slipped the same device he had used on Wes to prevent him from masturbating. The woven straw sheath was too tight for Brent to remove without injuring himself, but for safety sake, there was a small lock at the base of the penis that kept a woven wire from allowing any hope of release. It allowed the penis to piss from its open end, and to erect. But there was no possibility of a cock within the sheath allowing the trapped penis to expand to the last stage for ejaculation. Brent could wear it under his jock strap, but he would not be able to ejaculate without Johnny releasing him. In addition, whenever Johnny called, wrote an e-mail, or spoke to Brent at school, he was to do whatever he was told. Finally, he could be with Amy all he wanted, but sex was to be one way. He was to convince her that out of respect for her and their feelings for each other, he would please her, but the priest had told him he could not relieve himself. It was a good strategy since Amy was a traditional girl, and as long as no sperm was spread, she believed there had been no sex. Brent was about to become an expert in oral sex, and Amy was going to be a happy girl.
Brent dressed quietly, listening to Johnny. He confirmed that Johnny would not send out the tape he had or any of the pics. But as he left, Johnny gave him instructions to check his e-mail, letting him know there would be a surprise for him. Sure enough, Brent was shocked to find the tape of him in Johnny's room, acting like a whore, masturbating and saying out loud how much he wanted to cum. The deal was sealed, the trap sprung. Brent was no long in charge of his own cock, and Johnny had created a prick slave out of the middle school's All-American hunk.
To be continued...I appreciate all the comments I have received since I began posting this story. Since this is my first written work on my own in two years, I will continue to look forward to hearing from you. Glaucon55@aol.com