Skippy Conquers Corporate Cock 14
Nifty -- you must love it or you wouldn't be here reading this. The stories are free 24/7, but maintaining the site costs some bucks. Please donate something. After all, how much is it worth to you to drop a load whenever you want with the help of this site. Drop a few bucks, okay? http://donate.nifty.org/
Water Works (Well)
There were many more areas of interest, of course.
My buddy Josh favored the Atlantis section. A huge pool featured costumed mermen who used air hoses to remain under water so they could swim up to a naked swimmer, and nibble on toes, nips, fingers and dicks. Josh loved to hang out at the floating bar while hosts of horny swimmers competed under the waster to coax out load after load from his bountiful balls.
A small, shallow section of the pool was fitted with industrial strength recyclers, and located right next to the Bavarian Biergarten. Visitors full of beer or wine could enter a grove of bushes that skirted the pool's edge. Guys in the pool who liked that kind of thing could shower in warm golden streams before splashing some more to the perfectly purified depths.
Parker just about went nuts watching the cast members outfitted as water sprites, shooting each other, both outside and inside with squirt guns and hand held water cannons. We spent a good half hour after lunch looking for the guy before we found him getting well watered by his new found friends.
Of Course There Was a Ring Master
Coach Axel had insisted on a circus section, including a carnival midway. Ring tosses aimed at upright cocks, a sledge hammer strength test that smashed a dildo up into the arse of a twink seated above. Coach pounded on that lever until he'd beaten a load out of the twink through his arse. He also spent a lot of time throwing bean bags at Kewpy Twinks who sat on a shelf wearing just a jock. After several bags to the balls and dick, he could get an over stimulated cock to stick up proudly, peaking out of the top of the strap. More bags on target could actually make a dick shoot spunk. So far, coach was a major player and a major winner. As such, he got to drag the twink with the depleted balls around behind the tent and fuck him in the saw dust.
Activity in the main tent was mostly for viewing. There were aerial artists who fucked through the air with the greatest of ease...porking young men on the flying trapeze. Bareback riders riding bareback while fucking bareback. Clown cars featured clowns giving road head, slapstick schtick that resulted in huge fake dicks squirting gallons of white water and a lot of grab arse, of course. You fucking know there was a lot of cock sucking going on under the bleachers. It practically drowned out the calliope. I was told that there was originally an act with a donkey, but it was soon scrapped because everyone thought it was fake.
Ports of Call
Although Clyde wasn't able to join us, I had already seen videos of him helping with the installation of Ports of Call -- a series of well designed movie sets of shady and dangerous cities around the world. There was a video of him dressed as a French pimp in Marseilles wearing tight black trousers, horizontally stripped shirt and a black beret. He stalked the shadows, coming upon cast members acting as young men in distress. Clyde was happy to take advantage of each situation, pounding "The Little Match Boy" by the light of his lucifers, throwing a slightly built junior pimp around the sidewalk in an apache dance before face fucking him in front of a small audience that muttered, "Allors!" Mon Deux!" Suce cette bit!" e suite, in francaise. You had to admire the big tender hearted lug for helping a guy up off his knees afterward and scraping the cum off the guy's face and into his puffy mouth before turning him around and giving him a spank to send him on his way. Waaaaaaaaaayyyyy hot!
In "Trieste" the big guy fed German sausages to a pert little Italian before sticking him with his highland scepter. In Berlin, hugely menacing in a black trench coat and fedora, he (gently) pistol whipped a young political protester and then patiently listened to the twink's protests when his crotch canon annexed most of the cast member's guts. Ever up to some good hearted mischief, he even dressed up as a London Palace Guard with bearskin hat (quite a stretch for my favorite highlander) stoically standing in his guard box while two "street waifs" competed for a mouthful of his cum. In some mythical exotic land, he was "captured" tied naked between two trees and subjected to "the death of a thousand tongues." Truly a torture to die for. From the Russian peasant boys who sucked him in a troika chased by mechanical wolves to the Japanese "torturers" who tied him in impossible positions in order to sit on his dick in even more impossible positions, the big bruiser always made conquests of the heart as well as mouth, dick and pussy.
When his week of consulting was up, all the cast members gathered to see him off in the company helicopter, waving and kissing the many souvenir condoms filled with his cum that he had left as behind. Later, many of the cast members would get together and shared stories of the big dudes prowess and stamina, whatever the country, whatever the scene, he would certainly be missed until he came again.
He always did.
It truly seemed a small world after all.
The Fucking Future Land
This was my favorite
There was a roller coaster with gimbaled seats fixed with dildos. Riders were shot through space, spun, flipped, twirled and rocked, each action triggering a different rhythm and sequence in the vibrator stuck up the riders butt. (As you can imagine, the park had a 24 hour dildo repair operation that was a major investment in technicians and equipment. So many rides seemed to depend on the things
Coach loved the tandem space bikes. He lay on top of me, my chest on the bike frame and his dick up my butt. A tow chain moved the bikes from the mounting (get it?) area to the velodrome. Each bike had a dedicated bike lane. When the things powered up, the whole bike hummed and shook. The guy on top (Axel, of course) could really make the thing kick -- accelerating into turns, gunning it on the straight away, juddering over corrugated speed bumps, or even braking just for the hell of it -- which jammed his big pole as far up my pussy as it would go. Coach dropped his nut in me just from the speed alone. Well...I guess I did help a little. I was fucking scared and my pussy knew it. We both held on tight to whatever we could grab!
I won't even describe the robot rooms filled with humanoid machines that did just about anything you wanted. I'd tried each one, just to make sure they were all in working order and wouldn't be disappointing paying guests with bizarre and eccentric tastes.
Gotta say, even as well conditioned and habitually horny as we all were, by the end of the day we were each fucked out in our own happy and well supported way.
When sunset came, Mikey could barely walk straight and his voice was horse due to all the love his throat got. He did manage to flag a company limo for us at the entrance, get us into our seats and wave us on our way.
And as I said, we were pretty much fucked out...but not as much as Mikey.
Surprised Much?
I should have known that something really peculiar was up.
Arriving unannounced at the lobby desk, the now senior Alpha-COK lawyers, Rafe Ramrod and Gunner Gottwood were given immediate security clearance to come up to my office. Josh had been in the gym lending himself to Kade's on-going training, so I quickly had him beside me by the time Parker (happily replacing Graham) showed the two lawyers in. We knew this had to be something fucking important.
Still wearing thousands of dollars' worth of clothes, shoes and jewelry, they both looked even more smug and arrogant than we remembered.
"What's up, guys? Did you two fall through a loophole somewhere and land here, or what?" Josh glanced at me. The last time we'd seen these two we were on our knees, sucking their dicks while they read us the wills of our tragically deceased first paramours and benefactors, Scott Grimes and Brian Stone.
Ramrod and Gottwood looked at each other and smirked (of course). Ramrod cleared his throat and launched forth.
"Gentlemen, we're here in regard to a codicile to the wills of Scott Grimes Esquire and Mr. Brian Stone, a provision that we were prohibited from disclosing unless certain, let's say, unforeseeable but certainly hoped-for circumstances came about."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked.
"Perhaps rather than trying to describe these unusual developments, it would be simpler if you two would come over here by the office door...please indulge us if you will!"
"What the fuck!?" Josh and I said to each other in unison. We had spent a lot of time together, you will remember, and pretty much knew what each other was thinking.
The lawyers turned and walked to the double doors. We followed, not understanding what any of this was about, but sobered by the memories that came bubbling up, summoned by these two haughty officers of the court.
They each took a door knob, turned them in unison, stood back and opened the doors.
And...
Josh and I fell to our knees like we'd been pole axed. Looking up in shock and awe we saw Scott and Brian -- er...I mean Mr. Grimes and Mr. Stone grinning down at us. Older...sure...but so fucking god damn hot! Their muscular bodies were bulked out a bit with age and what looked like a lot of rugged and physically punishing living. Their faces were sculpted by age and the victories of many battles -- both physical and mental. You could tell they were a couple of conquering heroes back from some harrowing war that had honed them into ever more potent motherfuckers (I think that would be the technical term here).
Both were dressed in desert camouflage and Doc Martins. They were tan, they were cut...they were fucking hot!!
The two men who fucked us first calmly looked down at Josh and me.
Silent, staring...neither said a word. Each of their mouths twitched up at one corner, each brought a hand to the front of his belt, found the zipper pull and....
"ZZZZIIIIPPPPPPP!!!'
Out plopped two very familiar pieces of man meat -- exactly as remembered except for the scattering of silver pubes among the black and the gold.
Josh and I stared at those big fucking dicks. Our mouths opened, we walked forward on our knees, attached ourselves like giant leaches and began to suck. Oh how the fuck did we suck.
I couldn't speak for Josh on Brian's dick, but once again, Scott's knob triggered some magical switch in the back of my throat and the universe was perfect again.
I'd come home to the dick.
"Suck me, Skippy! Suck my dick, little guy! Get ready to gobble some cock snot, Skip! Goooooood pussy, puss, puss! Swallow that cock, Pussy!"
Above me, Scott Grimes talked on, talking trash, fucking with my mind.
"Eat me, Skip! Fucking eat me, Pussy!!!" His dick spit out at least seven hot shots of cocksnot. I swallowed like I'd not eaten in a month or two, watching him smirk down at me. Dick in mouth, I raised a questioning eyebrow. Scott nodded. I unzipped and pulled out my dick and speed jerked to a geyser of a climax, sucking his dick, squealing around it, sucking some more.
I was truly home again.
Epilogue
Well...of course you deserve an explanation. So did Josh and I. Thankfully, there is one.
Before Josh and I could suck a second load out of our mighty mentors, the two lawyers again went to the door and ushered in Lance and Clyde, both of whom we thought were out of town.
It was all very simple and all very complicated.
The simple part was that no one had never really seen the remains of Scott and Brian's reported immolation when their Hummer supposedly hit a barrel of naptha in an over pass while Brian was blowing Scott. Who uses naptha for road repairs? Come to think of it, how believable was the whole story, anyway? Scott was totally used to getting blowjobs in cars, whether they were speeding, parked, or even just sitting in a showroom.
You see, the Alpha-COK fraternity not only has a major collection of special ops military among its alums, but many of its shadow organizations are in the business of covert spying, military intelligence and long term regime change - unofficially backed by the US government.
Scott and Brian had been recruited for deep undercover work, helping flush out several terrorist leaders in the Mideast. They bargained by offering meetings with important government officials, government contracts, even special weapons still in development by Stone Enterprises, as well as a whole lot of sex whenever that was effective.
Now that the two top studs were back in town, they would be consulting on all aspects of the company's holdings and activities. I was certain they'd be very pleased with the state of things.
They'd taken turns explaining this, sitting naked on the office couch, a scotch in their hand and their dicks once again in Josh and my mouths as we served them on our hands and knees. Lance and Clyde jumped in from time to time to explain a few things while they fucked us in our arses. It was all fucking amazing. It was also amazing fucking.
So...back to secrets -- Scott and Brian had had to assume completely new identities, to spare their families and friends from repercussions, and providing no chance for friends and relations to betray their mission -- unintentionally or otherwise. Besides providing for Josh and me in their wills, they also arranged through Dean Steadman to see to it that their handpicked successors, Lance and Clyde would be our "big brothers" in Alpha-Cock and continue our training in all things sexual.
While Josh and I were totally preoccupied with dicks, Lance and Clyde were busy bringing Scott and Brian up to speed with all our lives. When Lance explained that Scott's son Ethan was now a frat member as well as a very accomplished cock sucker, my main man choked a bit on his scotch.
"Well Skip!"
I looked up, a bit anxious as you might understand.
"If somebody had to stick their dick in my kid for the first time, I guess I'm pretty glad it was you. What goes around comes around, as they say."
Unseen by us, Ramrod and Gottwood summoned Porker on the intercom and whispered some instructions. In a matter of a couple of minutes, in walked Ethan with his little friend Colt, and of course...Kade, trailing a little behind.
"So you're Ethan!" Scott barked, staring at the kid.
"Uhhhh...yes sir, I'm Ethan."
"You're...my son... Ethan."
"I am sir?"
"Yes, you are."
"You suck cock, Ethan?"
"Uhhhh...well...yes I do sir, but..."
"Are you good at sucking, Ethan?"
"Yes, I am sir...very very good, but..."
"Scott!" chuckled Brian, "Don't you remember when he was a kid -- "little mister-can't-get-enough?" Sounds like he's finally getting some!'
"That's fucking great, son. How about you get naked, get yourself under Skippy here and suck out a fucking load. Show your old man what you can do, kid... get his dick, little dude, suck one out of his dick. Show your old man what you can do!"
Ethan jumped to it, proving just how could a cocksucker he'd learned to be.
Soon he was joined by Kade, who swallowed Josh's chunk of rebar, while little Colt hungrily helped himself to what was in Parker's pants. And no, Ethan never did have sex with his dad. Our group had some sense of ethical behavior after all.
After witnessing the happy reunion(s) and rubbing their junk through very expensive pin stripes, Ramrod and Gottwood caught each other's eye, smirked a little, and silently left the room - headed for Accounting and the warm welcoming mouths of Jim and Mason.
But... that aside, I think it was what you might call a fucking good ending.