AUTHORITARIAN/ HIGHSCHOOL
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 contains descriptions of sexual activity between adolescent boys and is for adult eyes only. The acts are consensual, and are a result of their love or lust for one another. This story is completely fiction, and all names and descriptions (except for the occasional place-name) are also made up. Any similarities are completely coincidental.
I would love to hear from you, so negative as well as positive feedback is always welcome. Please write: markwild082@yahoo.com.
For J.D. Salinger, my favorite writer, although I doubt he'd like it!
Red Devil Wrestler, pt. 7
"...fuckin' LIKE that baby, doncha?" Dudes, I was lickin' Craig's dick like a lollipop, flickin' my tongue like a whore on the glans and then kissin' that fucker from bottom to top. The tip was all wet and was drivin' me crazy: dudes, there ain't nothin' like findin' your niche. Mine I was learnin' entailed takin' orders and suckin' Craig's cock like a cum-hungry bitch. "Aw yeah, fuck-wad. USE your lips, girl! ---LOOK at me, bitch." I did. "You fag..." A thrill ran through my muscled torso. Craig saw me shiver and started to brag. "Damn, I got a whopper, don't I?---" "Yeah..." "---I got like, SUPERsized!" He laughed and two bright flecks of moonlight swiveled in his deep brown eyes. "Ya want me to lick on your nuts some more, Craigger?" I wanted to bad ---but I needed permission. "Fuck, if I give you my dick all damn night, bitch, we're gonna miss all o' that good early fishin'!" "Fuck the fish..." "I
PLAN to, Dick-wipe! JUST as soon as we get home! ...Better than tearin' that Mustang apart again, huh girl? an' polishin' all o' that chrome?"
I moaned. I pictured Craig's broad shoulders bulgin' while he banged on the struts, pictured the streaks of old oil and grime on his biceps, watched as he scratched at his nuts. He'd grin at me over the engine-block, call me his bitch while I handed him all of his tools. Slater and Jake would be knockin' a ball around, talkin' their trash, actin' worldly and cool. I would be boastin' how May would suck dick, and be watchin' the ripples in Craig's solid pecs. They would all oink and then call me a perv and of course cross-examine me on the sex. "Does she bite?" "Does she swallow?" "How tight is her pussy? ---let's say on a scale of from zero to ten?" Craig stood so close I could breathe in and smell him, and fought the temptation to do it again.
"Yeah Coop...I figure I'll drop you off, go shower, then give some bitch a call. Sink my fat joystick real deep in some REAL fuckin' pussy... ---Yeaah, girl, LICK those balls!" Craig reached under his turgid rod and brought his big nut-sac right up to my lips. My tongue went to work and my hands tried to crawl up his chest they were crazy to pull on his nips. He slapped them away. "Now you fuckin' beHAVE, girl! Yeah... I know... you're hot for my pecs..." He knew that he had my attention completely, grinned and then banged on his chest and flexed. "Look at me, Coop! I'm the total package! Faggots go CRAZY for what I got!... That's right, jock-boy. CLEAN those sperm-tanks! NOW who's the big friggin' hot-shot? Look at ya, bitch! ---Mr Homecomin' KING! ---fuckin' down on your knees like the school's biggest fag...." He patted my head and I slobbered all over his scrotum. "Fuckin' douche-bag..." He grabbed my left ear-lobe, and pulled me up hard, and then hocked three big gobs of warm spit in my face. "Faggot wants more faggot better ask Craig reeal nice. You fuckin' WITH me, Ace?"
Yeah, I was with him. I looked at his big swollen prick and I knew that I'd do it: I'd beg. I woofed. He laughed. I got romantic. "Please let me kiss your big cock again Craig?" "Girl..." He leaned over and looked at me closely. "I got a whole damn aGENda planned.. One that includes SEVERAL sessions of cocksuckin', BITCH..." I moaned. "Yeah... ain't life grand? Now wipe that damn spit off your face. You're a mess. And go wash your damn dick: I can smell it from here." He shook his head. "Some football jock..." He spat, ---"scum-suckin' queer..." He stood up and pushed me away from him. Just like a puppy I whined 'cause my treat was denied. "Now scram. An' don't come back till that puss is CLEAN..." My puss... I could'a just died.
I scrambled back crab-like and lost my balance. I sprawled on my elbows and ass in the sand. My cock was still twitchin' around on my gut like a puppet, jerkin' at Craig's commands. He took a step forward and pressed his dirty foot against my heaving chest. "You got fuckin' lucky, girl. You're gettin' rode by the rodeo's best..." Another retaining wall crumbled inside me. My body was racked with demeaning desires. I was transfixed like a moth by a pin to a board and my skin spouted brushfires. He looked at me coldly and smirked like a cop gettin' off when some punk started learnin' his place, an' he hocked up more spit but I squirmed and his aim went off and he totally missed my face. Fuck, it was just like at school when he lost one: he'd barely shake hands before startin' to curse. He'd prowl around pacin' the edge of the mats till ya thought the damn veins in his neck would burst. Me an' Jake an' Bren would yap and joke we were glad we were up in the stands! Now I was seein' those mean friggin' veins up close, in his legs and his powerful hands. It made me feel weak, like a baby or somethin', like one o' those jocks he had friggin' demolished... standin' there, makin' me crawl to his bulge like a dog, all good sportsmanship wholly abolished....
I know that I should'a been mortified, dudes, but the fact is that I was already Craig's slave. I knew I was tough and could take a few beatin's if that's what it took for my ass to behave. What were a couple o' purplish bruises if that's how Craig wanted to make his point? It couldn't hurt worse than the time I got slammed and my whole fuckin' shoulder got knocked out o' joint. But he friggin' surprised me. Grindin' his heel on my chest he said, "Thought that I told ya ta scram..." And I scrambled from under his foot like a pig half-afraid if I stayed I'd be sliced into ham. I pulled myself up on my feet, started brushin' the sand off my elbows and tight muscled butt. My cock was still throbbin' up hard. Craig could see it. "Girl, you are SOME kinda nasty slut..." "Aw yeah," I said, without even thinkin': his tool was still wet from my spit in the moonlight. How could I go and clean up like he'd told me and let that fat meat of his out o' my sight? "Please let me kiss it again Craig?" "Ya wanna, huh? Sounds like some BITCH is in love with my cock! ---Well ya can't. So ya might as well stop yer damn whinin'. You ain't in CHARGE around here, Mister JOCK. You ain't the fuckin' Decider," he laughed, "bro. Yer just another damn cocksuckin' fag. I could drive down to the showers and find me another queer dick-wipe and make HIM gag...."
If I had any pride left I swallowed it, panickin'. "Nooo, Craig! I'm sorry! Whatever you want!" "That's RIGHT. Girl, when I say crawl you ask how FAR. Comprendo THAT, you cunt..." He jerked his head out toward the lake and I finally listened and started to shuffle away.. The water was splashin' my feet when I heard him behind me. "Don't fuckin' take all day..." I turned and watched him start to amble up the dirt incline and back to the tent. I felt like a addict who needed a fix when his last couple dollars had just been spent. I felt so friggin' aimless, dudes, it was like I had like some post-partum depression. When had my veiled admiration for Craig metamorphosized into this helpless obsession? A shiver ran over me, makin' my balls pull up and my stomach and asshole twitch. Craig wasn't lyin'. My cock was too hard to deny it: I WANTED to be his bitch. There was just something so friggin' erotic about bein' made to take orders and beg, big fuckin' jock all queered out for his cock like a fag with a boner between his legs...
The water licked up at my jocknuts like some little lake-faggot hungry as I was for sex. The shock cooled me down, though; I waded out further until the dark ripples splashed over my chest. All I could hear were the crickets and night-birds. I burped and I tasted Craig's cum in my throat. I swallowed again and submerged and then twisted around and half-surfaced and started to float. Above me the moon had washed most of the sky out, except for a bright star that might've been Venus. A patch of pale clouds drifted off to the left like a Rorschach impression of Craig's erect penis... I groaned out loud: I was outta control! I was in thrall to my raging libido... sendin' me off to the mall like a slut with a hard-on to buy him a new pair of Speedos... Makin' me wait with a horny impatience while us an' the crew shot hoops all afternoon, slappin' my ass with a hearty insouciance, callin' me "Big Man!" and "Master o' Poooon!" Knowin' full well I was itchin' like fuck for those jack-offs to put on their shirts and go home, cravin' to get on my knees like a bitch and learn just how Craig liked me to worship his bone.
Dudes, I looked up at that twinkling star and my thoughts ran away like a thief in the night. Craig loomed above me godlike, half-translucent in the crystal moonlight. Grinnin' like Apollo with his solid legs and abs and pecs, his massive meat-rod promising long weeks of hot perverted sex. He'd tell all the guys he found out I was queer, and was gonna enjoy this last month before college, satisfyin' his curiosity, polishin' up on his sexual knowledge. "You got a fag, use 'im," he'd brag to the gang, and they'd smirk and say, "Coop! Dude, you really like COCK?" And Craig would smirk big and say, "Watch this, you dickheads!" and make me get down and inhale his ripe jock. Their eyes would pop out of their heads. They'd'a never believed it. They'd spit and go, "Ewww," "Fuck..." and "Damn!" and wink at me lewdly and knowingly scratch at their crotches until Craigger told 'em to scram.
And then he'd start in with the real degradation, the crawlin' an' beggin', the barkin' and pit-lickin', makin' me chew the thick shaft of his rod while he laughed. "That's right, girl... Just like chicken!" I would leak just like a retard and grab his thick legs and pull more of his cock in my throat and he'd knock at my balls with his foot and kick back an' flex both of his huge fuckin' biceps an' gloat. He'd slap at my face with his huge friggin' dong an' smear big gobs of precum all over my lips; I'd lick it all off with my tongue while he'd nod his approval and tease me by pinchin' his nips. And then he would ---JEEsus, what could I NOT imagine that muscle-stud makin' me do? "Chew on my nasty old jockstrap, you faggot! Yeah, eat all my toejam! Aww, gobble the goo!" He'd strut around just like he owned the damn world, knowin' all of his sexual whims would be gratified. Chicks could debouch if they wouldn't put out, 'cause his real bitch would know how to keep his dick satisfied. Dudes, he would... drive himself out to the mall to a pet store and find me a collar to wear, and fasten it snug on my neck while I whimpered between his big legs and he ruffled my hair....
We'd lounge around watchin' TV at his house till the car started up and his parents were gone, and then he would order me up to his room and I'd watch as he pulled some old wrestling gear on. Craig was a legend at school for the way he could flirt and drive all of the chicks to distraction; now he would laugh and say, "LOOK at these guns, bro!" an' kiss on 'em, smirkin' at my reaction. I would be swallowin' hard and my cock would be drippin' like some kinda leaky-ass faucet. I would be naked, of course, and my chest might as well have had "Craig's little fag" scrawled across it. My eyes would be glued to the bulge in his singlet, my nostrils would twitch for the scent of his sweat. I would be blubberin' how he had made me his faggot. "Shiiit... I ain't DONE yet! Girl, you are gonna be such a big queer that my asshole BROther won't even know ya! 'Damn, bro, yer shittin' me! This is that Coop dude?' 'Sure as fuck is, bro. ---Ya want 'im to blow ya?' " Casey would look at me real fuckin' skeptical, prob'ly debatin' if I was worthy. "She's all broke in, bro.. HUNgry for lovin'! I promise ya, bro, she gets real dirty..."
Fuck, dudes, I grabbed for my cock at the thought but the movement splashed water up into my nose. All my lascivious daydreams unraveled as surely as autumn unpetals the rose. Here I was driftin' off all queer and crazy when Craigger had told me I shouldn't waste time. Fuck! ---just for ONCE could my brain pay attention and not churn out all these wack rhythms and rhymes an' go driftin' off into some cloud-cuckoo-land till the crew would all poke me? They'd chortle and scoff. "Coop! Are ya friggin' LISTenin', dude?" They'd laugh. "No more weed for the King! He's cut off!..."
I started to wash out my pits with my hands, splashing water up into those matted blond curls: I'd come a long way from the wise-crackin' jock who hung tight with his buds and chased after the girls. I stood there. My stomach was quivering. Slowly I reached up behind me to finger my ass. A little queer whimper leaked over my slutty wet lips, and I froze till the trembling passed. At home in my bedroom I'd played with my hole a few times when I pulled up those studs on the net, but truthfully, technically speaking the fact was my ass hadn't really been broken in yet. I mean, dudes, it's one thing, to see some hot athlete and dream that my face was all up in his jock; another, to know that my ass would need serious trainin' to handle Craig Mott's big cock. ("Practice!" Coach Brown always drilled us. That was his prescription: Practice! I'd work two fingers up into my butt with some soap till I moaned like a Southern Baptist. Or like when Jake brought that magazine by, and we checked out the pics of those chicks in bikinis.... Later I waited till mom had gone out and then damaged a couple of baby zucchinis.)
Slate had never pushed it, he would just grab my thick head and I'd suck while he grunted; Craig saw the look in my eyes when I looked at his prick... and we both knew what he wanted. Craig was gonna get his junk rock-hard and make me ride his pole, showin' his fagged-out football jock how it was when a stud took complete control. Jesus H. Christ, he would totally use me, and I would be leakin' and beggin' for more, lickin' his big stinky feet and his big hairy thighs while he called me his queer little cock-whore. Yeah, and if Casey was kickin' back watchin', that'd be the last piece of no fuckin' resistance. Dudes, did I say I'd discovered my niche? I'd found the raison de my horned up existence.
Uh oh, nnnghh yeah ---that was the ticket. My ass sorta opened and swallowed my knuckle. My fingertip tickled the knob of my prostate. I gasped and my muscled legs started to buckle. I felt the sweet trembling delicious sensation that made my toes start to curl up in the mud. It was like hordes of implacable Vikings were running amok in my riotous blood. All the hot red flush of youth spread out across my face and chest. See what happens when football jocks turn queer and get all sex-obsessed? They end up half-submerged in lakes with fingers probin' up their butts. They lose all their interest in Playboy and Penthouse and start throwin' boners to homo smut. They lose their macho attitudes and start to crave the smell of sweat. Their horned libidos start to overflow. They need an outlet. They need a stud whose sheer brute strength will keep their stinkin' ass in line. That thought alone made breathless shivers run all up and down my spine. My prick was hard as steel, my heart was racin' like a whore's on speed. I NEEDED Craig's big cock again: I'd crawl, I'd fetch, I'd beg, I'd plead. I'd sell my friggin' coin collection just so he could have the money. I'd be oozin' pre like horny honeybees secretin' honey.
Yeah dudes, my ass was all slack and receptive. I probed with my fingers and swiveled my hips. My other hand grabbed the hard base of my wanger. I worked my new ...pussy and tightened my grip. Yeah queers, I knew what the fuck I was doin', too. I was all hornily losin' control. So what if my fingers dug up in my shit-chute were no friggin' match for the girth of Craig's pole? So what if his rammer was gonna destroy me? I'd hobble around like his substitute cunt. Rival jocks would laugh to see me broken down by need and want. Even half-under the water my dick was all primed like a gun that was cocked to go off. Even as much as I'd already cum that day, I hadn't had enough. I squeezed, I stroked, I worked my ass and my hand slid down the full length of my meat. Yeah and I know it's a sad sorry pun but that sweet fuckin' feelin' could not be beat
That's when I started to queer out real bad again. This time I knew, though, I wouldn't be stoppin'. I was gonna get my nut so hard there'd be all kinds o' hellzapoppin'. Wrestlin' jocks and football studs and every other kind of athlete strutted through my dirty mind and smirked and watched their bitch on heat. Dudes I was gruntin' an' splashin' an' pantin' an' beatin' my meat like the prick owed me money. I could feel the precum on my dickhead, warm and slick and runny. I could ---Jesus... feel that pressure start to swell my achin' nuts. I could feel enflamed sensations tying up my knotted guts. "Nnxxh!" I cried, and felt my meat-stick pass the point of no return. I was gonna blow my jizz as far as Mars ---or maybe Saturn!
"Nnxxh!" I felt the first contraction building up inside my rod, then the second, then the next one, then the ---oh my fucking god--- All hell broke loose. My fingers squirmed like snakes inside my greedy hole and thick warm jets of creamy cum exploded out my gaping piss-hole. "NNNxxhh!" I jerked so hard my probing fingers popped outside my ass. My limbs were twitchin' like my fuckin' body'd been exposed to nerve gas. Milky gobs of viscous cum splashed out across my muscled chest. I creamed a fuckin' nipple, which, for standin', was some kinda personal best.. I smelled that pungent scent of bleach and almonds, smelled my curly pits. I smelled the exhalations from the summer lake and woods. I spit. I spanked my prick against my abs and spewed my juice on my heaving six-pack. Fuck dudes, there must've been HOURS of cum gushin' out of my swollen up queered-out nut-sac. So much cum it drenched my gripping hand and dripped into my pubes; so much cum that it leaked in the lake from the tip of my detumescing fuck-tube.
Holy shit! I stood there panting, soaked in jizz and dripping sweat. I wasn't done. That's right, you queers. The faggot hadn't had enough yet. Fuck yeah, now that I'd blown my nut my dirty mind was cravin' more. That, though, was all part of bein' a football jock, and not a little whore. The whorish part was lickin' the leftover cum off my wrist and my slimy fingers. I couldn't be squeamish no more... or some other hot jocks might move in on my Red Devil wrestler. Yeah, dudes, now that my climax had faded I kinda could sorta think clearly again. Jocks could be filterin' into the woods right now, slick goalies and football linesmen. Closeted queers like me, givin' in to the need to kneel down at Craig's big feet, crawlin' around on the mats if he told 'em to, gooned the fuck out on Craig's big meat.
I jumped. The trees had a thousand eyes, now. Each one was staring a hole right through me. They watched me splash all of the cum from my stomach and whispered among themselves, murmuring lewdly. Look at the queer, they hissed. He couldn't wait twenty damn minutes to blow his load. Spiders crouched in webs, the crickets reeped, a pinecone fell and echoed. Somehow I knew I had dawdled too long and my ego deflated as sure as my dick had. Now I knew why dumb-ass jocks needed discipline: left unattended we fucked up too bad. All I could do was head back to the tent and pray Craig wasn't pissed that his bitch kept him waiting. Gee bro, I washed up as quick as I could, bro.... HELL no! ME, bro? Masturbating?
Well. There was nothin' to do but to square my broad shoulders and trudge back to face the music. It was already real clear that I couldn't be trusted to even control my own dipstick. Yeah it was clear that I needed a stud like Craig to do my thinkin' for me, tellin' me straight what his bitch was expected to do if he happened to drop by horny. Gulp. I pricked with goosebumps, felt the clammy sand between my toes. All my flimsy buttresses had tumbled down like dominoes. Yet there was something too strangely exciting in knowing that Craig held my fate in his hands. I trembled like a stranger in a new erotic foreign land. Or say, like a hot-shot football jock who'd tasted strength and longed for more. I picked my way solemnly back to the tent like a husband approaching a brothel door....
to be continued...