I mentioned before that I fucked around with Richie the Retard for about 4 years, beginning when we were 12 and 19 respectively, and ending when I was 16 and Richie was 23.
All during those 4 fantastically fun years I had been curious about what it would feel like to have Richie's big uncut dick up my untapped boy-ass. I wanted to know what it felt like to get fucked. I knew I had a good-looking butt - small, round, high and tight. I had seen girls and the occasional guy checking out my ass when I wore tight cut-offs during the warmer months. I liked it when people checked out my ass cuz it made me feel grown-up and powerful.
I was totally used to being superior and in control with Richie but part of me wanted to know what it felt like to be on the receiving end. I had a feeling I would like the physical sensation of having my guts full of hard dick but the idea of having anything that huge inside me just seemed impossibly scary. So I didn't allow it to happen until I was 16. And the only reason it happened then was that I had just recently let my new skinhead buddy from high school fuck me when we were stoned and supposedly doing homework. He had a huge dick, too. And by then, my ass looked even finer than it had when I was 12. Slightly fuzzy and just asking to be mauled.
Once I knew that my ass could accommodate horse-cock, I figured there wasn't any reason to be apprehensive about letting Richie plow me with his massive monster.
But I'm getting a little ahead of myself, so I'll back up and explain the sequence of events that led to it.
During the first 2 years I used Richie for my sex fantasies I learned lots of mean tricks and had tons of fun tormenting and torturing the retard. All of our games involved my manipulating Richie into doing nasty things. I loved humiliating and abusing him and then majorly messing with his brain-damaged head afterwards, making him believe that I was his good friend and that everything we did together was all in good fun.
Richie was the perfect foil for these games of mine. With the body of a man and the mind of a very stupid, immature 8 or 9 year-old kid, it was simple to manipulate him into doing anything I wanted. Besides that fact, his chief selling point was that he had one of the biggest dicks I have ever seen. Physically, pretty much everything about Richie turned me on -- his tall, pale, skinny body; the stink of his sweaty armpits, always ripe and skunky; his homely-cute, scruffy face with that light brown floppy hair falling into his blank, pale blue eyes; the full, red lips, just right for dicksucking. But the fact that he was brain-damaged made me want to hurt him in perverted and mean-spirited ways. I didn't think of him as being fully human. I couldn't have cared less about his feelings or well-being. All I wanted was his body and that awesome dick and fuckhole attached to it.
Truthfully, I could easily have accidentally-on-purpose killed him during our games and I wouldn't have lost a moment's sleep over it. The only thing that truly prevented me from snuffing him was the worry that I'd get in trouble if anyone ever found out. I could have offed him many, many times, but I always held back out of that old, nagging worry.
Anyway, one summer afternoon when I was still 12 years old and Richie was 19, we were playing soldiers in my backyard. I had been messing around with Richie for about 4 months by then. My parents had gone somewhere, I forget exactly where, but I had the house to myself for much of the day. Richie was by now allowed to hang out with me whenever I invited him over. His parents had grown to trust me with him and they were glad, I think, that Richie had finally made a friend in the neighborhood that was kind and caring towards him. I was a good actor even back then, and I could convince most everyone that I was just a nice, harmless kid, the quintessential all-American boy-next-door type.
Even though our games always ended up in abusive sexplay, the lead-up to the sex was fun for me, too. At 12, I was just beginning to put away my toys and make-believe games but playtime with Richie still captured some of that innocent fantasy from earlier years. We would whoop it up and chase each other around my backyard, hiding from each other, jumping out unexpectedly with our fingers pointed at each other like rifles, making forts and other make-believe games. It was fun to play like a kid again, and Richie loved every moment of it. That's the sort of stuff we'd do while my parents were around. As soon as they'd take off somewhere I'd start morphing the game into sexy stuff.
On this particular day we were pretending that we were having a major battle between our respective armies, Richie leading the U.S. soldiers and myself leading the Nazi troops. I always made Richie play the good-guy American while I would always play the Nazi. Richie was obsessed with Nazis, but the idea of them terrified him. I had always thought the Nazis were sexy and cool, like many young boys. I could do whatever I wanted to Richie and chalk it up to my pretending to be an SS man. That way I didn't have to explain my cruelties and sadistic sense of fun. Richie just took it, even when my antics would hurt or make him cry. I made Richie cry a lot. I thought it was hilarious.
My favorite game to play with him when we'd finally get down to doing the nasty stuff was Nazis-and-Jews. I would make him say and do things that were humiliating while I beat off or did nasty shit to him. I had even made armbands for us to wear out of old felt scraps I found in a box in our garage, left over from some unfinished craft project years before. I made Richie wear a black one with a yellow Star of David on it, and I wore a Nazi armband, red field with a white circle and a black swastika. I had run elastic around the armbands because there wasn't anything to pin them to when we were naked. Mostly they were for the Polaroids I took during our games, but the sight of Richie, groveling at my feet or smeared with shit or tied up and gagged while he wore that fucking cum-stained yellow star cracked me up and gave me one helluva hard-on. I had a wicked sense of humor even then.
I remember that in 5th grade some kid had brought in some genuine Nazi memorabilia for show-and-tell, stuff a relative had brought home from the war, I guess. One item captured my fancy and I wanted it bad. It was a small enameled medallion of a swastika, black and white and red. After school that day I waited up for the kid and offered to trade him the medallion for some porno mags I kept in my backpack. At first he said he couldn't because his dad would get mad at him, but I threatened him with a good beating while I showed him some of the nastier pages from one of the well-thumbed magazines. His eyes were popping out of his head and I could tell he wanted the porno mags more than he cared about his dad yelling at him, and certainly more than he wanted my fists smashing into his face.
I wore the medallion strung on a chain around my neck concealed under my t-shirt. It looked fucking awesome and I wore it for years. I loved that thing, but several years later I gave it to my skinhead buddy for a birthday present. But now I loved letting it show plainly against my naked chest whenever Richie and I played together. I liked how it looked, and the shameless "fuck you" attitude it provoked in me whenever I got to display it openly gave me a sexual thrill.
Anyway, we were throwing dirt clods at each other and soon it escalated into throwing small rocks. I had a whole arsenal of improvised weapons and accouterments on my side of the yard and I put them to brilliant use. The best was a simple contraption that let me hurl flaming gravel at Richie from a distance of several yards. I even got the sexual charge of setting him on fire, something I didn't think I'd be able to pull off.
All I did was get a metal lid from a jar, fill it with pea gravel and douse it with lighter fluid and paint thinner. I'd set a match to it, let it burst into flame, and then catapult the flaming gravel at him. At first all it did was leave little black burn marks on his clothes but that didn't satisfy me because it wasn't hurting him.
Since the coast was clear, I told Richie that we were going to play for real now and so we had to strip naked, like usual. Then we resumed the great battle. Now, the burning gravel was stinging him and making him yelp every time it touched him. I was leaking so much precum there was a perpetual string of it dripping from my dick. I noticed that Richie's cock was still soft. That cracked me up. I kept hurling those firey gravel bombs at him but finally I realized they weren't going to do the trick as I had imagined it in my cruel, clinical imagination. There was gravel everywhere it shouldn't be and I knew I'd have to clean it up before my parents got home. So, being a logical, pragmatic kid, I switched tactics.
I called a truce and told Richie I had a big special effect planned and he was going to be the star of it. He looked at me with a stupid, confused expression and I just laughed at him and told him to get ready. He stood there and let me douse him with lighter fluid. The only thing he said was that it sure felt cold as I squeezed the contents of the entire bottle all over his body (except for his head) making sure he was saturated with it. He smelt so strongly of the stuff that it was making us gag. Then I pulled our garden hose closer to where we were, got the camera ready, struck a match, and tossed it at Richie. He immediately burst into flames and I snapped a Polaroid of him as he ran around shrieking and waving his hands back and forth. I grabbed the hose and quickly extinguished the flames. Richie wasn't hurt at all because he'd only been on fire long enough to burn off the lighter fluid. The flames never really touched his flesh at all. But it did singe his pubes some. I knew that photo would look awesome and sure enough, when I showed it to him, it looked like the retard was the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four comic books. It took a bit of convincing to get to him to think the whole thing had been cool, but as always, I did it. I jacked off to that photo I don't know how many times.
When I was 13 and Richie was 20, I played an even better prank on him but it freaked him out so badly I didn't try it again.
My dad had built a tall wooden cabinet, about 7' high, to store garden implements in. It was pretty damn large, tall enough to stand up straight in and a perfect hiding place. One corner of it was filled with a shovel, a hoe, various rakes, all the long-handled tools my family owned. There were also sacks of fertilizer and potting soil in there, stuff like that. Daddy long-leg spiders loved that cabinet and there were quite a few of them in there.
Things had continued pretty much as usual over the past year except that I smoked now and was even more of a bully. We had been playing our usual American vs. Nazi soldier games and I, as usual, had captured Richie. I marched him around the back yard and when we came to the cabinet I told him to stand still. I tied Richie up with old ropes I found in the garage and then opened the cabinet and told him to get inside because it was the jail. When he saw how dark it was in there he started saying that he didn't want to play this game anymore. I had a feeling that he was going to resist this game because I knew that he didn't like dark, enclosed spaces. That was why I'd chosen it. So I figured I would have to gag him to shut him up. I stuffed one of my foul sweat socks in his mouth and slapped a piece of tape over it so he couldn't spit it out.
Once I had him gagged I pushed him into the cabinet, hoisted his arms up and tied his wrists to a hook I had earlier that morning screwed into the top of the cabinet. Then I tied his ankles to hooks I had secured to the floor. He looked great, arms hoisted up and tied together at the wrists, stinking hairy armpits slick with potent terror sweat, tape over his mouth with the stiff, dirty corner of my sock bouncing on his scruffy chin, hairy legs tied tight so he couldn't really move much. His pale blue eyes were wide in fear and he was whimpering or muttering or something. I told him if he made any racket I would shoot him in the face and kill his family. He looked awesome. The perfect victim. Then I gave him the Nazi salute and shut the cabinet door and locked it with my own padlock.
It was early afternoon right then, probably like 1 o'clock. I went inside the house, made lunch and watched some TV for awhile. The phone rang and it was my buddy Larry who lived a few blocks away and asked me what I was doing. I told him nothing much and he invited me over to hang out for a while and I went. Larry was a really cute Irish kid that I thought was good-looking and sort of had a crush on. He and I had jerked off together a couple of times and I had taught him about hot-dogging, which he loved.
But I had to move carefully with Larry because I could tell that doing stuff with guys freaked him out more than it did the other 3 boys in our gang that we messed around with on increasingly rare occasions. We didn't do anything except listen to music and talk about girls and then go to the local mall for a couple of hours that day. I was watching the clock because I knew my parents would be getting back around 5 p.m. and I wanted to leave time to have fun with whatever I was going to find when I opened that cabinet door.
By the time I left Larry's house it was almost 4 o'clock. Richie had been in the cabinet for almost 3 hours. I sprang a huge boner whenever I thought about him while I had been hanging out with Larry. Now, as I ran barefoot the few blocks back to my house, I could feel my hard cock brushing against my thigh and by the time I got home there was a definite wet spot on the front of my shorts and a thin, shiny string of precum beading in the hair on my thigh.
I raced through the gate leading into my backyard and stopped still when I was a few yards away from the cabinet. Everything looked OK and I couldn't hear any noise at all coming from the big box. I pulled the padlock key out of my pocket, slipped it into the keyhole, got it opened and stepped back as I prepared to open the cabinet doors, Polaroid camera poised to capture that first, priceless shot.
I flung the doors open and when I saw Richie I thought he was passed out at first. His head hung down and there was piss all over the floor of the cabinet. He had pissed himself. I started chuckling, snapping one photo after another, wondering if he had smothered inside the cabinet. I noticed it sure was hot in there. Maybe he was dead. If so, I had to think fast.
But Richie raised his head and looked at me with the most woebegone eyes I had ever seen. Tears had streaked his face and he had drooled so much from the sock stuffed in his mouth that there was saliva dripping from his chin. I flicked his soft dick and squeezed his big, heavy nuts a bunch of times, laughing at him, telling him he was supposed to be dead but he might as well come out now.
I unhitched his wrists from the hook and then removed the ropes from his ankles. I had to help him step out of the cabinet and when I got him out he collapsed on the flagstones. As I worked on getting the rest of the ropes off him I kept telling him not to be a pussy and not to make a racket. Richie was whimpering the whole time.
I finally ripped the tape off his mouth and he spit my rank sock out onto the ground. I was getting pissed off at him because I didn't want to waste the rest of our time together by having to calm him down and talking him into the climax of the game.
"Hey, retard, stop fucking whining! It's just a fucking game, you asshole," I said to him, my teeth clenched and my voice tight and impatient.
Richie wailed and said the spiders had scared him so bad he peed himself and now he wanted to go home. I just laughed at him and told him he was a baby and that he wasn't going anywhere. He screwed up his face and I could tell he was going to start bawling again. I hauled him up to his feet and told him to come inside and I'd make him a sandwich. That seemed to quiet him down some, and already my mind was racing with mean, nasty thoughts about what I would do next.
When we got inside I told him to sit on the kitchen table and lean back on the table top. Richie looked like a little kid at the doctor's office, nervously waiting for the doc to examine him. I got a jar of peanut butter down from the shelf and stuck my finger in the jar and scooped up a big glob of the stuff. I told him to suck it off my finger and while he did it I stuck a finger on my other hand back into the jar and scooped out another glob. While Richie sucked on my finger I wiped the peanut butter on my other finger all over his dick and worked it down to his asshole. I pushed inside him and he squealed a bit but he was used to me invading his asshole with all sorts of objects by now, so he didn't put up any fight at all.
Richie giggled a bit as I smeared the stuff all over his crotch and shithole. I told him to leave it there and not to touch himself while I made him a sandwich. When I had it made and Richie was happily munching away I bent down and started mouthing his huge dick, tasting the creamy richness of the peanut butter warmed by his body heat and mingled with his sweat and funky crotch tastes. Every once in a while Richie would stroke my head and squeeze my shoulder so I knew it must have felt good to him. He devoured the sandwich fast and I asked him if he wanted another one. He nodded and grinned at me like an idiot.
By the time I made him another sandwich Richie's dick was stiff and throbbing. So was mine. While Richie tore into his second sandwich I got down between his legs, spread them, and licked the peanut butter from around his asshole and even slipped my tongue inside it to see if I could taste the stuff inside him. I could, and it made me fucking laugh my ass off while my brain seethed with ever nastier imaginings.
Then I told him, "Geez, look at how dirty my feet are!"
I had been barefoot most of the day and it had been 2 days since I'd last showered. My soles were black with street grime and when he was through with his sandwich I made Richie switch places with me on the table and then get down on his hands and knees on the kitchen floor. I ran my dirty feet all over his head and then shoved them in his face.
"Smell how nasty my dirty feet stink, Veg. Lick 'em, faggot, get 'em nice and clean!" He just continued that foolish giggle and lapped away at my stinky feet. His spit and breath felt awesome, cool and warm all at the same time.
I needed to take a piss and I asked him if he was thirsty. He nodded and I told him I was gonna give him a nice, long drink of my hot piss. He giggled and said, "Eww." I just smiled at him and grabbed his hand and led him into the bathroom. I told him to lie down in the tub and when he did he started shivering and said it felt cold on his naked skin.
I spit on him and told him my piss would feel good then, it'd warm him up. I grunted and sent a hot yellow shower of urine cascading over him. I barked at him to open his mouth but he wouldn't at first.
I went into Nazi/Jew-game mode and barked at him to open his dirty Jew mouth and drink my hot Nazi piss. Whenever I said stuff like that to him he got a weird gleam in his eyes and treated me like a real Nazi, like he was in awe and terror of me. That was one of the major reasons why I liked this game so much.
He opened his mouth and squeezed his eyes tight shut while I aimed my piss stream square at his face, making sure to try to get some into his eyes because I knew it would sting like hell. He kept letting his mouth fill up and then spill out down his chest.
"I said drink it, you dirty fucking jew pig! Say 'I want to drink your hot Nazi piss!'"
"I want to drink your hot Nazi piss," he repeated as I filled his mouth and told him to swallow it.
"Say, 'I love Hitler', you fucking retarded piece of shit!"
Richie giggled out of terror and said, "I love Hitler."
The fact that I was making him say things I knew were socially forbidden, the malicious audacity of it all, just made me all the hornier.
I hauled him out of the tub and told him to get his ass out into the garage and to get into the back of the van parked inside.
I kept shoving him and trying to push my finger up his ass as we walked through the house. Richie was half-giggling, half-whimpering.
When we got into the van I pushed him down onto his back and squatted over his face. I barked at him to sniff my Nazi shithole and then lick it out good or I would kill his mother and father and then what would happen to him? Richie was scared and confused so I stepped it up a notch. I grabbed his hair in my hand and tugged his head up so I could smack him hard a few times before I spit in his face.
"I'll fucking kill you. Say, "Please, Mein Commandant, can I lick your Nazi asshole, Sir?"
Richie started crying from the sting of the face smacks, so I smiled down at him and quietly told him I'd strangle him if he didn't say it. The fact that I was smiling and speaking softly to him made him smile back at me and he nodded and said, "OK, Dan," and stuck his fat pink tongue out as proof that he was ready to lick my asshole.
I spit in his face again and, still speaking softly, told him he had to say what I'd told him.
After repeating it three more times so he could remember it, he finally said, "Please, Mein Commandant, can I lick your Nazi asshole, Sir?"
"Permission granted, Pvt. Retard Jew. Heil Hitler." I was mixing my games up but I didn't give a damn. My mind was reeling anyway.
I sat on his face and made him smell my butt a while before I told him to stick his tongue up my ass.
When he did, it felt so good I had to fight the physical urge to shoot my load right then and there. I reached down his body and started jacking him off with one hand while I did myself with the other. My ass was bouncing up and down on his face, feeling his tongue fuck my sweaty shithole.
I was torn between wanting to rape his ass like usual or sliding his foreskin over the head of my dick and jacking us off together 'til we spewed. I went for the latter.
I told Richie to get up on his knees as I got up onto mine facing him. We were so close together all I had to do was lean my face forward and I'd have my nose buried in his pit. I grabbed his hard horse cock in my hand and pulled him the few inches towards me so our dick heads would be touching. When I felt the soft, wet, heat of his fat mushroom cockhead touch mine I shivered and gasped with 13 year-old boy sexlust.
I slid his foreskin over both our heads and started twiddling with it, slipping it back and forth slowly but firmly. I was getting close fast from all the messing around we had already been doing, and I could tell that Richie was getting close, too.
I could feel and hear our combined precum slicking our heads together with a warm, wet, squishing sound and that pushed me over the edge. I reached up and pulled his face down to mine and shoved my tongue into his slack, panting mouth. Richie instinctively kissed me back, forcing his muscular tongue back against mine, whimpering and grunting into my mouth. I could smell our hot, panting breaths as we huffed into each other's lungs. Richie's mouth and breath tasted and smelled like ass and peanut butter combined. It reminded me of an over-sexed, filthy-minded little boy, self-debased and hungry for degrading animal sex.
All of a sudden Richie yelled into my mouth and I felt a hot, forceful blast of something hot and thick and wet slam against my dickhead and when I felt it I unleashed a molten jet right back. Richie's cum was filling and flooding his foreskin squeezed tight over our dickheads and when I relaxed the tension I held it in place with I could feel his cum shooting against my balls and stomach and drenching my pubes.
I let go of him and he slumped back onto his haunches, still pumping out a few jets of his nut, eyes closed, a pained expression on his face, bangs glued to his pimply forehead. I stayed up on my knees, eyeing his entire body and feeling selfish pride that I commanded such a fucking fantastic sex toy.
When we were done emptying our nuts I pushed his head down onto my crotch and told him to lick his load up but not to swallow it. When he was through, I bent down and lapped mine up from his pubes and stomach. I came back up and pulled him into me again, giving him another good, long french kiss. We swirled our cum around in each other's mouths and we were both humming and sighing from the overheated condition of our bodies and the thrill of consuming each other's masculinity. I doubt that's how Richie would have explained it, but I know he got a similar charge, nonetheless.
I couldn't believe how wildly nasty and horny I was still feeling. Messing around with Richie the Retard was like doing dirty stuff with a little kid with a man's huge dick and balls, swollen with hot, smelly cum. It was that combination and contradiction that excited me beyond anything I had ever felt before. To my mind, it was no wonder that I had an occasional urge to kill him. He was a monstrosity. But one I couldn't get enough of.
As the years passed and I grew up, I spent less time with Richie. By the time I was 15 I only saw him maybe twice a month, but those times were even more brutal and usually lasted the whole day. I was more interested in girls and hanging out with my buddies than I was in fucking around with Richie. My urges towards cruelty and violence were taking different forms now, much of it in engaging in petty crimes like theft and vandalism or getting off on the sexual thrill of brawling. I was good at not getting caught for the most part, but a couple of times I did get busted. The counselors at my school, along with my parents, were concerned and wanted to put me in therapy, so I went. I thought it was hilarious.
The therapy didn't last long, only 3 sessions. It was supposed to be ongoing, but my therapist was an old Jewish guy. I was careful about what I'd tell him. I forget exactly what he said to me that pissed me off during our last session together, but in retaliation I told him about the Nazis-and-Jews sex games that I played with "a friend." The expression on the therapist's face was fucking priceless, a look of revulsion and horror like I'd only seen on people's faces in movies before. I remember that I laughed right in his face when I was done giving him the details. After that, he coldly told me that he couldn't continue our sessions anymore and that I needed to find a new therapist. I threatened to hurt him bad if he told my parents about what I'd told him, and that besides, I had made it all up. He was wise to me though, and told me that he knew I hadn't made it up and that I needed help. I told him to get fucked and again warned him that if he told my parents anything I would say that he had molested me in his office. He never said a word to anyone about anything I'd told him.
I was so sick or having adults tell me that I needed help. I knew that there wasn't anything bothering me at home or at school, there wasn't anything wrong with my head, I didn't have any thought disorders - I simply liked violence and it just felt good to be cruel. To my mind, I was part of a select group of strong-willed, rational, unsentimental people, willing to take what they wanted, actions that weak-willed, conventional people were not strong enough to take. My personal motto was a quote by Benito Mussolini I had read in some book or other I had checked out of the library: "We must learn to hate more and rejoice in being hated." That said it all to me. That was my strength and I reveled in it. Fuck the weaklings. I figured they were there to be used and managed.
Things quieted down for about 4 months and I didn't get in any more trouble. It's not that I stopped acting on my impulses, I just didn't get caught. Towards the end of those 4 months I met my best buddy in high school, a new kid from the East Coast, a skinhead nicknamed Choke. I had just recently turned 16.
From that point onwards he and I were virtually inseparable. After he had fucked me for my first time, I knew that I wanted Richie to finally do it to me, too. So I started planning the how and when of it.
I decided to invite Richie to spend the night one week-end. I knew I was going to have to come up with some well-reasoned plan that would derail any suspicions my parents might have. I figured they'd probably wonder why their 16 year-old son wanted a brain-damaged 23 year-old man to spend the night, much less share the same bed. As it turned out, my parents didn't even ask any questions, just looked at me for a few seconds and then said, "Sure." I suppose they had gotten accustomed to my 'friendship' with Richie and just figured we got along well and I was just being nice. They also knew how stunted Richie was emotionally. Most people in the neighborhood thought of Richie as a child and treated him like he was a kid instead of a fully-grown man. My parents were no exception.
Richie's parents were fine with the idea. They believed that I was the best thing that had happened to Richie since they'd moved into the house across the street 4 years previously. And of course Richie thought the idea was better than Christmas. He told me he couldn't wait for Saturday and I know he drove his parents crazy during the week, asking them daily if it was the week-end yet.
All I cared about was getting Richie into my bed for some under-the-covers fun. I knew it wouldn't be hard to get him to do it; he had asked me a few times over the years if he could stick his wiener up my butt after I'd been stuffing his ass with my hard dick countless times. I always told him he couldn't because the General hadn't specified it in his instructions to us, and that always shut him up. So I knew that he was willing and curious and would probably get annoyingly excited when I told him he could, at long last, fuck me up the ass.
He showed up at my house early that Saturday evening, carrying a small Superman duffel bag with a change of clothes and his toothbrush. I taught him how to play Go Fish but it was just to kill time. Then I let him watch television with me and my parents for the rest of the evening until bedtime. Richie thought it was incredibly fun and exciting. I have to say my parents were really good with him. My mom treated him better than his own mom I bet, serving him snacks and asking him how his day had gone, even ruffling his messy hair at one point when she walked past him. My dad was gentle and kind with him, too. The irony of the situation was clear to me even then at 16. I was laughing behind my hand the whole time.
Around 10:30 I told my parents that I was ready to go to bed and watch my own TV before Richie and I went to sleep. Richie followed me like a dog into my bedroom and changed into his pajamas as I stripped out of my jeans and t-shirt and pulled on a pair of old sweatpants. I told Richie I was going to brush my teeth and take a piss and he said he wanted to do that, too. So I rolled my eyes and let him follow me into the bathroom.
When we were through and back behind the closed door of my bedroom I turned the TV on and climbed into bed. Richie was giggling and his excitement over experiencing his first sleep-over was contagious. But mine had a different motive. At first I wouldn't allow him onto my bed and told him he had to sleep on the floor. His face dropped like a ton of bricks and then screwed up into that expression that made him look like a whipped dog. He said, "OK, Dan," and sat on the floor while I kicked back against the headboard and crossed my arms behind my head. I let him stay there for about 15 minutes, saying nothing, just watching the TV, and then I pulled off my sweats and stinky socks and tossed them over the side of the bed onto Richie. A few seconds later I heard him start to giggle. That got me going and I started laughing my ass off, too. It was like he knew what was coming and that this was all part of it. I guess he did, from all the years I had been abusing and fucking around with him. He liked it in some warped way now, and he was waiting for it to begin.
I told him he could get in bed with me if he wanted. He peered over the edge of the mattress and squinted at me in the dim, blue light of the television. He looked helluv sexy to me, I remember, because he looked so stupid and pliable and innocent. Like a big over-grown boy. His messy hair needed washing and his bangs were glued to his forehead because of the ratty, old baseball cap he perpetually wore. His heavy, dark brows were furrowed from his squinting at me and he was wrinkling up his nose like he couldn't see very well. I think he probably needed glasses, but it made him look cute when he squinched up his nose. Pimples dotted his forehead and scruffy cheeks and chin, but it only added to his youthfulness. But it was his mouth that was really getting me hard. Richie had full, red lips and healthy, white teeth and his mouth was usually part way open. Rather than making him look stupid, at that moment it looked sexy, sort of lascivious.
Anyway, the sight of his goofy face made my dick twitch. I patted the bed and he stood up, towering over me, smiling like a clown, then flopped down next to me. I was rubbing my dick and worked up a perfect, rock-hard boner in less than 30 seconds. Richie giggled that retard laugh of his and just reached over and wrapped his hand around my cock and stroked me like I had told him I liked it, swirling his fist around the head on the upstroke before traveling back down the shaft. Richie knew how to jack me off just right. I didn't even have to tell him anymore. He knew the routine and had initiated fooling around several times over the past year. I just lay there, arms still crossed behind my head, watching TV. Without even looking at him, I told him to take his PJs top off but to leave the bottoms on, and then to get under the covers. He had a bit of trouble with the buttons but soon he was bare-chested.
Finally, half naked and smelling strongly of stale sweat, Richie climbed into my bed at the same time as I got under the covers with him. I snapped the remote and the TV blinked off. The only light was now extinguished and it took a few minutes for our eyes to adjust to the darkness. A faint ribbon of outdoor lamplight shone through the space between my window and the window shade, giving just enough light to distinguish his face. I knew I'd have enough light to see the rest of him in a few minutes. But first I had my own work ahead of me.
I yawned and stretched and Richie did the same. I could smell the powerful, masculine stink of our sweat-soaked hairy pits as we stretched. I didn't say a word and I could sense Richie's confusion as to why I wasn't saying or doing anything to him. I was actually waiting to hear my parents' bedroom door close before I launched into the night's revelries. After about 15 minutes I could hear Richie's breathing slow and deepen and I knew he had fallen asleep. About the same time I heard my parents close their bedroom door and again I waited for another 10 or 15 minutes before I made a move.
I wasn't even touching myself but my dick was rock hard and throbbing from the prospect of feeling my guts fill up with Richie's massive prick. I could barely wait to feel his narrow hips slam against my ass as he plunged in and out of my tight hole, balls bouncing against mine, sweaty limbs wrapped around me. I wondered if he'd naturally know what to do or if I'd have to explain it to him. I wondered if he'd be any good.
I shoved him and told him to roll over onto his side. He murmured something I couldn't make out as he rolled over with his back towards me. I let him settle before I scooted closer to him, also turning onto my side. I was going to fuck the shit out of him before I let him rape my ass. I had purposely not jacked off over the past 2 days and I was so horny that I'd had a hard time not grabbing him earlier when we'd been in the bathroom brushing our teeth. Now I was ready to cram his ass full of my hard 16 year-old cock. My dick was now just about full-grown, a beautiful 7 3/4 inches of powerful, relentless meat with a sack of balls dusted with silky, dark brown hair.
I hovered just an inch or so away from his body. I could feel his heat radiate against my naked skin and it felt incredible. The pungent stink of skunk and onions coming from his pits amped me up like the odor of a lover's favorite perfume. I scooted closer and nuzzled my nose into the warm, moist crevice between Richie's armpit and his side. Richie sighed and made more unintelligible sounds as I flicked my tongue into his pit and felt the coarse hairs press against my lips and chin. As I sniffed and licked the sharp, acrid tang, my hands were busy teasing Richie's body to full attention.
One hand reached around and fiddled with his nipples while the other stroked his PJs-covered thigh. I moved my hand down from his nipples, stroking the thick glory trail on his stomach before I shoved it under the elastic waistbands of his PJs and tighty whities and ran my fingers through his matted pubes. His fat, uncut dick was pulsing with life when I wrapped my fist around it and slowly jacked it with a firm hand.
Richie was wide awake by now and he giggled softly as he tried to turn towards me. I hissed at him to stay still and not to make any noise. Again I scooted my body closer to his, and this time my stiff dick made contact with the warm flannel of his PJs. I pressed against his ass and slowly bucked against it, feeling precum leave a warm, wet streak on the fabric. I let go of his cock and started shoving his clothes down his thighs, exposing his hairy ass to my body. I heard his horse cock slap thickly against his belly and my dick spasmed with the lust for body contact. When I slid my dick between his ass cheeks Richie whimpered softly and asked me if I was going to fuck him. I laughed at how well-trained Richie was. I had even succeeded in getting Richie to talk dirty when we were playing together. He said all sorts of swear words now, and it gave me a hugely perverted thrill to hear him let loose with a stream of filthy talk in that slow, Beavis-and-Butthead voice.
I didn't tell him what I had planned, I just shushed him and savored the silence between us, the stillness unbroken except for the rustling of the blankets and the occasional grunting moans of our labored breathing.
I hot-dogged his butt a little while longer, varying the speed and pressure, the way I knew Richie liked it. The hair that lined his crack was thick enough to form little greasy-looking whorls and it felt like sliding over an animal. I surprised myself by how gentle and normal I was treating him. It wasn't because I felt any less malicious towards him; I just wasn't willing to waste time on him. I was letting the pleasure I was getting wash over me, completely selfish and uncaring about anything except myself.
I pulled back a bit and worked 2 fingers up his ass. He felt nearly feverish inside, so warm and wet and slick to my touch. Richie was squirming and writhing around a bit as I finger-fucked him hard and brutal. I clamped my other hand over his mouth because I was afraid he would cry out like usual from the force of the sensations I was sending crashing through his stinking body. When I pulled my fingers out of his ass they made a soft plopping sound and I grinned to myself like a devil. I loved that sound. As I scooted back into him, getting ready to shove my cock up his ass, I sniffed my fingers fresh from his shithole. They smelled awesome, earthy and rancid, sweet and poisonous. The smell of Richie's ass had always been a major turn-on for me and it was no different now. In fact it seemed like I had never smelled anything so fucking sexy before.
I spit in my hand and lubed my aching dick. I pressed it against his hairy asshole and told him to push out so I could slide in easier. As he opened to me I brought my slimy fingers up to his face and told him to smell how good his asshole stank. He breathed in deeply and then giggled again as I wiped my fingers on his pillow. His laugh turned abruptly to a sharp gasp as I stuck my cock up his ass and shoved hard. As soon as I was in to the hilt, my pubes scratching his butt cheeks, I bucked back and then slammed fast and hard back into him. Richie let out a high-pitched whine, full of pain and pleasure as I fucked him so hard and fast that my bed started squeaking. I slowed down just enough to stop the springs from creaking and then settled into a rhythm of pure animal fuck lust. I was all over him now. I bit the back of his neck so hard I left a bruise on it as I hooked my hairy, muscular leg over his furry thigh, pajamas bunched up around his calves. I licked his back and shoulders; I clenched his hair in my teeth and gave a sharp tug, a few hairs ripping out of his scalp and wedging between my teeth; I pinched his nipples so hard he whimpered and convulsed. He was mine, my slave, my property, and I could have torn him apart with my bare hands.
His hair smelled slightly dank and sour, the way sweaty, unwashed boys smell after playing hard in the sun all day long. The stink of good, strong, butt-fucking filled my nostrils like a thick, warm fog. I breathed in all these aromas, losing myself in the total abandon of our grunting, grinding sex act. I could feel my balls expand and roil with the massive load of jizz I had been storing up for this moment. When I knew I was going to blow soon, I half-climbed on top of him, clutching his body tight against me as I fucked into the home-stretch.
With a few, final thrusts I roared into his dirty hair and felt the first searing wave of hot cum burst out of my cock and straight into his guts. Blast after blast of my liquid identity erupted into him and the sound of his juicy, squishing, cum-filled ass soothed the pounding in my ears. Drenched in cooling sweat, my body went limp as I pumped out the final bursts deep in his bowels. I withdrew and turned away from him, trying to disengage myself from the mess of tangled blankets. It felt like the bed was on fire.
I heard Richie groan and then let out a deep sigh. Laughing with how good and drained I felt, I turned my face towards him and saw him roll onto his back and look at me. I think he was confused by my not being cruel to him while I had fucked him.
The feel of my dick, fresh from Richie's ass, was amazing. Slippery and sticky with ass juice and cum, as soon as I touched myself I started getting hard again. I laughed and sat up as I got ready to straddle his chest. He didn't say anything as I clambered over him, leaning forward so that my half-hard, dirty cock was resting on the crown of Richie's head. I grabbed his hair on either side of my dick and used it to wipe the slime off.
When I was through cleaning most of the stink off my dick, I slid down some so I could wipe what remained all over his face. I smiled evilly at him and told him I had a surprise as I lay back down beside him. Unconsciously licking his lips where I had just wiped my cock, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me expectantly.
"I got a call from the General today. He said you need to fuck me."
Richie just stared at me, not fully comprehending what I had just said.
"You get to fuck my ass, retard," I whispered.
"I do?" He was totally flummoxed by this news.
"Yeah, you do. You want to, don't you?"
"OK, Dan," was all he said. I got the feeling that the idea was almost scary to him.
"Then get those fucking clothes off and stick it in me, Veg!" I was hoping that he wasn't going to freeze or start crying or something. I wanted him to take charge for a change.
"OK," he whispered conspiratorially. But I could hear the fear in his voice.
Richie kicked his PJ bottoms off and then just lay there staring at me with a smile on his empty face. I leaned over him and took his already hard dick in my fist, sucking on his ample foreskin like a tit and flicking his piss slit with the tip of my tongue. I could smell strong ball-sweat wafting up from between his hairy legs and I sucked on that horse cock like it was a lollipop. I nosed down under his balls and forced his legs wide open. The singular, unmistakable aroma of freshly fucked asshole mingled with cum filled my head. The impulse to slaughter him hit me like a ton of bricks once again. I could barely contain myself.
I decided I would just get into position and see what happened, without any commands or instructions from me. Maybe fucking was instinctual and he'd know what to do. I had been thinking about how I wanted him to do it and for some reason the idea of doing it to me the way I had just done it to him seemed the most exciting. I turned my back to him and pushed my ass towards him, hoping he'd pick up on the visual cue. He did.
I heard Richie breathing heavily as he scooted close to me. I could feel the heat of his horse prick beating against my ass and upper thighs.
"You know how to do this?"
"OK, Dan."
"OK, you know how, or OK, you don't know how?" I was starting to get irritated and I wanted to hurt him.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked me quietly.
I sighed in frustration. "Fuck me, you stupid fucking freak!"
"OK, Dan."
I lay there, waiting for something to happen. Nothing.
"What are you waiting for, Veg?" I was getting more and more pissed off.
He didn't say anything for a second but I felt him press his hard, wet cock between my butt cheeks. I let out a quiet "ahhhhhh..."
He didn't move at all but it felt awesome anyway, just having that fat fucking dick-log wedged in my crack.
"C'mon, retard!" I was impatient and filled with furious anticipation.
After a pause he told me he was afraid it might hurt me, like it had hurt him the first time I fucked him. I laughed scornfully at him and told him I had been fucked lots of times and not to worry about it. This was a lie, of course, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let him know he was more experienced at something than I was.
Then he started in on me. I couldn't believe what he was doing. It made me doubt my own senses for a moment, wondering if I had misjudged him.
Richie's hot breath blew up and down my spine, sending chills through my body. I shivered and he giggled. I gasped out loud when he started kissing and licking my neck and head and shoulders. He leaned over me, licking me all over my face. It felt so fucking sleazy and nasty. I could smell the mess on his face and my tongue lashed out trying to make contact with his. All of a sudden Richie was forcing his fat tongue deep into my throat, spit dripping out of his mouth and dribbling down our chins.
I was panting with lust by now, rasping out inarticulate noises. I could feel the enormous head of his cock pushing against my asshole and I had to remind myself to relax and push out so he could get it inside me without ripping me in half.
He reached around me and wrapped his arm around my chest, hugging me to him so tight that I thought he was going to break my ribs. I pushed my whole body backwards into his, and his cockhead disappeared into my tight, sweaty hole. It felt like I had been shocked with a million volts of electricity. I actually saw stars when I squeezed my eyes tight shut. It hurt like a motherfucker. I wasn't sure I could take it.
I was just about to tell him to pull out when he surged his hips forward and his shaft roared smoothly up my guts. I nearly screamed and held my breath so long that I almost passed out. I felt like I was being killed. Richie was oblivious to me. He was breathing hard and grunting and hissing out his breath like he was taking a rough shit. It sounded hot. He tried repositioning me onto my stomach but I didn't want to be laid out flat. I resisted but he surprised me by forcing me to roll over anyway. He laid his whole weight on top of me and pounded my ass so hard the bed started thumping. I was trying to get him to roll off me and be quieter but he didn't even hear me, I don't think. Finally I got his attention by slapping his ass from behind me. He stopped fucking and I told him to get the hell off me and lay on his back. He did it and I sat on him, guiding his huge cock slowly up my ass. When I had it all in I started bouncing up and down on his prick, now in control of the force and speed of the action. It felt incredible.
But Richie wasn't liking it. I was staring at his face and he frowned and then whined a bit and finally looked like he was going to cry over the frustration his body was experiencing in not being in control of the thrusting. It was like the primitive, animal part of his brain took over during sex and what it needed to get off was the prime objective. He actually lifted me up and got me off him and then got me on my hands and knees.
He grunted and mumbled something deep in his throat as he pushed his dick into me and started banging away. The bed started squeaking again and I had to stop him and tell him we had to get on the floor. Richie was so lost in the sensations he didn't understand what I meant so I got up and pulled him off the bed onto the floor. When I'd moved and his cock slipped out of my hole he started grunting in fast, short bursts, like a mindless, angry hog.
As soon as we hit the floor I got back into doggy position and Richie slammed back into me. He draped his body over mine and I felt like an animal getting fucked. The stink of his sweat was driving me crazy and I know mine only added to the insanity of the moment. I could smell hot ass stinking up the room. I wanted more smells bad so I hissed at him to reach around and grab his underpants off the bed. When he handed them to me I ran them over my face, savoring the heady smell of his shithole. There must have been skids in his tighty whities because I could smell assfunk strongly in the back of his ratty briefs. I bit down on them as Richie increased his pace. He was mumbling and talking to himself while he fucked, and I remember thinking that was hot. I couldn't tell what he was saying, but whatever it was it seemed to get him more and more excited. I spotted his foul socks lying close by so I reached out and grabbed them to me. They were stiff with sweat and stank to high heaven, just the thing I needed to get me off even better.
Richie was snorting and grunting like a fucking animal, still muttering to himself. All of a sudden he stopped thrusting and pulled his dick out fast. I gasped from the shock and he pulled me up by my shoulder. When we were both standing he roughly spun me around to face him and wrapping his arms around my sides he lifted me up and impaled me on his huge, stiff meat-pole. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his shoulder. This was crazy.
He held my legs up in his arms and I wrapped them around his waist as he continued fucking into my aching asshole. Needing more leverage, he walked us over to the wall so he could press me against it and pound me even harder. I felt like I was going to explode or shit or scream or all three at once.
Richie started panting hard and his grunts were getting so loud I was afraid my parents would hear him. I clapped my hand over his mouth and he tried to turn his head away from it, so I slapped him hard across the face and told him to shut up as I replaced my hand. It seemed to piss him off and he threw his whole body into fucking me with a fury that I wouldn't have expected from him. Truthfully, I hadn't expected him to be anywhere near this good at screwing.
The best part was that he was doing it the way I liked it - rough, unromantic, fully masculine, more animal than human. His wildness made me wilder, too, and I hocked a huge wad of spit right between his eyes. It didn't faze him in the least. He just shook his head once, trying to fling off the saliva dripping down his face. I clapped my hand back over his mouth and told him he was making the General proud. I don't know why I even bothered talking to him because he clearly wasn't capable of hearing anything I was saying.
He held me so tight to his stinking body that I was able to rub my cock against his hairy stomach as he plowed my ass. I was getting close to shooting another hot load and the image of all that cum gluing our bodies together while he dumped his load deep in my guts made me crazy.
I could feel the sweat pouring off him and his body started feeling slippery. Suddenly he started whimpering fast and loud under my hand and I knew he was about to cum. The sound pushed me over the edge and I could feel my load get ready to erupt. I took my hand away from his mouth and kissed him hard as we both got ready to spew. Kissing probably isn't quite the right word, but I don't know what else to call it. It was more like eating, all teeth and tongues and biting and spit. My lips felt like they were bruised and swollen and I know I chomped down hard several times on his lips and cheeks and chin. I was tearing at his hair and digging and dragging my fingernails all over his head and back and shoulders.
The hardest thing was keeping quiet, because both of us instinctively wanted to howl and bray with the ferocity of being caught up in such brutal lust.
I started panting words into his mouth, frenzied beyond belief.
"C'mon, motherfucker, shoot your fucking load up my ass! Retarded piece of shit, I'm gonna kill you, oh my god, fuck the shit out of me, you cocksuckin' faggot, I'm gonna bash your fucking retarded brains in..."
Stuff like that.
Richie kept whimpering louder and louder, eyes rolled back in his face, his head thrashing backwards one moment, then crashing forward into my face.
I couldn't hold back any longer and I bit my lip hard as my dick swelled and belched out thick ropes of cum against his stomach. I must have shot fucking hard because I could feel sticky wetness all over his nipples and chest, too.
He threw his whole weight against me and the wall and for a second I thought he was going to crush me to death. He bucked into my ass another half-dozen times or so and then he started shuddering as he screamed into my mouth and pounded out his load. I could feel hotness blasting inside me and he kept thrusting over and over, emptying his balls of all that juice. My ass felt like it did when I was a little kid and my mom had to give me an enema. Each thrust sounded more and more wet and I could feel cum squirting out the edges of my shithole and dripping onto Richie's thighs.
At last the incredible torture was over and he relaxed as he leaned his dripping head against the wall. He banged his forehead into it a few times as the final cum bursts went shooting inside me. We stayed like that for a few moments, panting and trying to catch our breath, trembling and shivering from the over-stimulation.
I scrambled out of his hold and got to my feet, then told him to lie down on the bed. Richie stumbled like he was drunk the few paces to the bed and flopped down on his back, horse cock still twitching and glistening in the dim light. I stood up on the bed and straddled him until I was standing right above his fucked-up head. I squatted a bit and then bore down like I was going to take a shit. I knew what would happen as soon as I relaxed my sphincter, and it did.
Squirts of his cum, fresh from my ass, splatted down onto his face and hair. I could smell that aphrodisiac odor, a warm, sickly-sweet combination of cum and asshole. Like a dirty gas station toilet. I squatted down a little farther so my asshole stretched open even more and let loose with the rest of whatever I had in my bowels. I heard long, wet farts and soft plopping sounds and my cock started to come to life again. When I had squeezed out the last of it I lay down beside him and surveyed the damage.
A nice little puddle of recycled ass-cum shone on his chest. I smeared it all over his tits and stomach and then absently drew a swastika in it with my finger. When I glanced up at him he was still flat on his back, face pointed to the ceiling, mouth open and a vapid smile on his goofy lips. I sat up and leaned against the headboard and ran my fingers through the mess on his face, making sure to force my fingers in his mouth as I told him to suck on them. When his face was slippery with the filthy mess I ran my hand through his hair and felt great wet globs of it as I massaged it all over his head.
Richie smelled fucking nasty and he said, "I don't smell so good, Dan."
"Just leave it alone, Veg," I told him, "You can't wash it off 'til tomorrow. That's how real soldiers do it."
We both just lay there, spent and stinking of hot male-on-male sex. My room stank bad and I knew I'd have to air it out in the morning before I opened the bedroom door. But for now the stench was keeping me horny and hard. But I was too wiped-out to do anything about it. Richie was tired and ready to go to sleep.
Then he asked me if he'd done it OK. I laughed and told him fucking was the only thing he was good for. He smiled and said, "Oh, good." That cracked me up. He was such a fucking retard.
I got up and found my stiff, nasty sweat socks on the floor and pulled them back on. Richie was watching me and I tossed his foul socks at him and told him to put his back on, too. He took a long time doing it, so I helped him because I was so impatient. As I pulled the socks over his big, smelly feet my cock lurched up and to the side and I was hard again in seconds.
I brought his foot up to my face as I inhaled the rank aroma of his raunchy socks, rubbing my face and head all over the stiff, damp fabric, covering myself with his stink. With a few deft motions, I had positioned us so we were lying head-to-toe. I shoved my nasty socks in his face and kicked him lightly in the head, whispering to him to suck on my feet. After years of playing with me, Richie knew the routine and hungrily lapped and sucked and bit on my dirty sock-covered feet.
I guess we both fell asleep pretty fast, cuz when I woke up we were still in the same position. I felt cold and moved quickly so I could get under the covers. Richie moved in his sleep as I changed positions, still softly snoring away. When I was covered up I slid next to him and let his body heat warm me more thoroughly. He smelled really nasty, sour and shitty and bleachy. I almost gagged but my dick won out, hardening again from the swampy stink of sex.
In the morning, just as dawn was breaking, I woke up enough to realize I had a boner that needed attention. Richie was conveniently lying on his side so I slowly maneuvered my cock into his asshole. He moaned and whined a bit but his snoring kept going as I pushed slowly all the way in. It felt so good on my dick, warm and soft and moist. I fell asleep again, my prick buried deep inside Richie's bowels. Every once in a while I would buck back and forth a few times before sleep overtook my senses and I lapsed back into oblivion.
I made Richie spend the next day with me. By the time it was over, I knew he'd never willingly want to 'play' with me again. All pretending about what I did to him being a game was lost and forgotten. The brutality I inflicted on his fucked-up body and mind passed swiftly from tormenting sexplay into true, sadistic, damaging torture. Richie would never be the same. Neither would I.
I was better than ever.