The Boardinghouse No. 1 By Glaucon55 Write me at: Glaucon55@aol.com
Disclaimer:
If you are not yet 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This story is for adults, and contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys with older men. This story is completely fiction, all descriptions and names are also made up, and any similarities are truly just that, purely similarities. I do not engage in or condone sexual activity between adults and underage boys which is regulated by law. These are fantasies for sexual private sexual enjoyment, not for emulation in real life. All rights are reserved by the author.
This current story line is entitled "Boardinghouse" and will be a series of discreet stories focused around the theme of uncontrollable masturbation, cock management, milking, and boys forced to surrender. I would truly appreciate suggestions from others for scenes or settings, and of course descriptions of real scenes. This storyline is the product of such input, and many of the separate chapters will be based on information shared with me. Of course I change names, and seek the permission of those who share tales with me. But those I publish feel I am able to bring something to the telling of their story that they appreciate. I hope you will as well. So please consider writing to me...there is no fiction that is more exciting than reality.
My stories are posted on Omelissokomos.blogspot.com, and on ASSGM.com. and on Nifty. I would also appreciate comments on my writing. I certainly admire the good writers on the web, and consider myself still a learner. Please contact me at glaucon55@aol.com.
Boardinghouse No. 1 Started February 29, 2008, published May 24, 2008
Doug had purchased the house with an inheritance that he had received from his parent's estate, five years earlier. At twenty-three, he was fortunate enough to own his own home, and to be able to generate income from it as well. Investments in property near to colleges and universities are always a good bet, but for Scott, this house was the perfect combination of his wants, needs, and hopes. He had selected Diablo Valley College—DVC---because of its perfect location. A college without an adequate supply of housing for the thousands who attended, in the midst of high value residential property, and attended by a bevy of beautiful boys from the suburbs as well as foreign students looking to get into prestigious colleges. When Doug found the old Victorian in the midst of all the newer developments at the end of a cul-de-sac, he knew that he had struck gold. The house had been built in the era when the land was part of local farms in the Concord area, but had fallen into disrepair. Only the legacy of a family owner, who had died childless, left the old house available on the market. Young families moving in did not want the huge rambling house, nor did the local preservation laws entice developers. It was Doug's good fortune to be in the right place, at the right time.
In addition, the house had an unusual design. The walls between the bedrooms on the second floor had a 3.5 foot passageway that allowed access. The purpose of the design was now lost to history except for some hints in the construction, but it created an opportunity that made Doug almost cum in his pants. At each of the rooms, Doug found an old built-in icebox that was in the closet spaces. At an earlier time, when the rooms were part of an apparent boarding house created by the original owner, rather than merely a private residence, foods and cold stuffs could be delivered to each resident's room. But the iceboxes had long ago been turned into storage within the closets and the rear access covered in each room. The corridor though, passed each room and also the toilet and bathrooms built to serve each room individually. Doug cleverly fashioned peepholes into each room, arranging the furniture and lighting when he completed renovations, to ensure that the corridor had a clear view of the beds, the toilet area, and the shower/baths. He decorated the rooms so he could hide lenses for his recording devices making sure they would not be detected, and placed the apparatus in the little hallway, adjacent to each room. Spending just enough of his parents' legacy to accomplish his goal, paying for the old house outright and then renovating it, he charged top dollar to students seeking private rooms close to the campus. There were four bedrooms on the second floor, each set of two sharing a toilet room and bath room. It was time to rent.
Room 2a
The first seven years of the rental only allowed Doug to spy on his residents, watching as the boys he rented to masturbated at night, fucked their girl-friends in the privacy of the room, and stripped to admire their handsome bodies after workouts and/or as they prepared for showers. But by the mid-1990s, Doug had been able to assemble sophisticated recording and camera devices that allowed him to monitor rooms, and select the rooms and times in which he wanted to capture activities. The first successful test of the expensive apparatus came with the Fall semester of 1996. Years of net rent, and low overhead had allowed Doug to earn tidy revenues that went into investments for his old age, and into an account for the house. The improvements were his "mad money" used to buy his entertainment. And what entertainment it was. At 31, he had the perfect setting for his grander scheme.
In the Fall of 1996, Room 2a was rented to a 6'1" former wrestler from the East who had decided that California was a place of golden girls and opportunity. His grades were not good enough to get him into any of the state's prestigious public universities. Instead, he sought to get an "AA" degree, and transfer to one of the schools, pursuing his athletic and academic career. Ben Anderson was a beautiful brunette, without an ounce of fat on his body, sloping pectorals on a smooth torso, with a trail of dark brown hair leading to a dark and dense bush above his genitals. His huge testicles, hung below, unobscured by hair, but his legs and arms were dusted by a thick pelt of light fur, down to his toes and fingers. The hair on his head, cut in a short, stylish butch, his eyebrows and his underarm hair were also dark. Ben's eyes were a pale blue, like pools that girls melted into, and a smile that made pussies grow wet. Most importantly, Ben had a gentle, soft style that made him enticing. It wasn't sexy so much as it was endearing, but the combination of his sweet, innocent disposition and that big boy body made him a potential feast.
It was strange, Ben had always been small for his age, until he reached seventeen. Then he had begun to grow and physically mature. He was suddenly 6'1" but anyone could tell he still had inches to grow. His feet grew to size twelve, with long thick toes, and his nipples protruded from his mounded pecs. Suddenly girls wanted to caress the boy, and cuddle him to them as if he were a teddy bear. That suited Ben, whose cock had always suggested someone of greater stature than his body actually showed. He was six solid inches at 13 years when erect and now, at his first year in college, he was almost eight inches. But that wasn't the half of it, literally. Ben was almost as thick as he was long, and the fat knob on the end of his shaft scrubbed aching clits and pummeled the depths of needy cunts. Every time his lifted his hips to drag his penis from the sticky slot of some horny girl, her squeals and cries would fill the room and as he drilled back down to satisfy their greedy itch, the squeals became wails. Ben could hardly contain himself, his sphincter tightening each time he drove in, and almost as if he was on auto-pilot, his cock would piston until its own helpless need was sated with a huge explosion of thick, tangy boy spunk. Ben's toes would curl from the sensation, and he couldn't continue fucking after his cum because the tickle across his glans would force him to withdraw quickly, and sprawl onto his back, his throbbing erection still spitting out pearls and drops of his spooge, and his shaft still pulsing. Ben Anderson was a boy on a mission, good grades, performance on the team, and cunt till he dropped. But Scott would discover more.
Ben did not masturbate every night like some of the boys who lived at the Boarding House. Oh, he'd grind his hard erection into the bed at night, sometimes even lifting his hips to thrust into the soft bedding and tease his aching prick knob. But most nights, he would then restlessly flip over onto his back and fall asleep, or just lesson the plunges until he drifted away dreaming of some soft pussy he was fucking in his fantasies. At least that is how it appeared to Doug. But one Friday night, when Ben came home from hanging out with his buddies at a bar near the college, Doug discovered that Ben had other needs. Reviewing the video the next day, he watched as Ben staggered into the room, kicked off his flip flops, and meandered towards the john. There, perfectly captured in the bathroom light through the open door, Ben shoved his jeans and briefs down to the floor. He leaned up against the wall behind the toilet so he would not fall over and could piss like a race horse, barely keeping his splashing urine from dousing more than the bowl.
Even as he finished flipping his penis to get out the last drops of his piss, the shaft began to harden and by the time Ben had made his way back to his bed, his pants and briefs still around his ankles, he fell over, stumbling from the binding effect at his feet. In a moment, his hips were driving against the soft material of the bedspread, driving his fevered shaft into the bedding and bruising his tingling glans against it. But Ben needed more. Suddenly he reached up and grasped one of the pillows from the top of the bed, and dragged it down to his body. Then he lifted himself up and raised his hips, forcing them down on the soft, spongy pillow. His leaking prong was enveloped in the downy cotton pillowcase, and Ben was up on his knees forcing his aching schlong into it. But then he did something that made Doug's cock go rigid and begin to leak. Ben reached around his body with one free hand, spread his rock solid glutes and slid a long, thick digit into his sweaty anal trench The booze made his aim a little off, but soon the blunt fingertip was scratching at the portal of his private boy pussy, tickling up and down the ragged split. The moment his finger found the bullseye, Ben let out a long deep groan, as if he had finally touched the core of his sexual lust. In fact, that's exactly what he had done. Within minutes, the relentless index finger was lodged deep within Ben's rectum, and had found his joy spot, his fuck nut, and was rubbing back and forth against it as his hips plunged uncontrollably against the pillow working his thick boy clit. The lewd scene was captured perfectly on Doug's video, because Ben had been too drunk to turn off the lights when he came into the room drunk and headed for the toilet. Now, his big size twelve feet were hanging off the edge of the bed, toes curling with each plunge into the pillow or rub of the finger, and his ass cheeks roiled around the invading digit as if to make sure it got every sensitive spot deep up Ben's fundament. His jeans and his briefs were tangled at his feet, until on leg worked free of the self-imposed binding, allowing Ben to spread his legs a bit and fuck the pillow mercilessly.
It only took about fifteen or twenty minutes, but finally Ben raised his midsection up one last time and drove his prick down deeply into the pillow and his finger unerringly drilled against its target deep inside his asshole, and with a whine followed by a long bellow, he exploded into a huge cum. As if he was almost faint, Ben's finger popped out of his asshole, and his body flipped over even as the cum continued to rocket from the head of his huge prick, shooting up and over his head, and onto his heaving chest, coating his nipples like they were chocolate covered strawberries. Ben flung one arm over his face, and his feet dangled over the edge of the bed, one still tangled in his jean and briefs, his long toes splayed and flicking slowly as he fell in a stupor. His cock slowly descended, the sticky ejaculate covering the glans and shaft as his cum tapered off, and soon the heavy prick head was basting in a pool of cum in Ben's navel. Ben's stupor turned into a deep sleep and the tape kept rolling capturing another 30 minutes of his beautiful body, as his chest rose and fell, his nipples still rigid and thrusting up from his pecs.
It took over a week for Doug to develop still shots of the performance Ben had given, and he made sure they were both in color and high resolution, as well as beautiful black and white shots. He blew three of them up, and placed them in a large Manila envelope that he left on Ben's pillow with a note:
"Ben, I thought you would want to see these first before I had copies posted at restrooms on the campus, and distributed to your parents and coach. If you'd like to discuss them with me, please call me at 9:00 p.m. on Friday night and invite me up to your room. Doug ---------"
At first Ben had tried to find where the camera located into the room, based on the pictures Doug had given him. But Doug had withdrawn the lens temporarily and carefully hidden the portal he used in the wall opposite the bed. Ben was deflated, he felt completely violated and frightened...almost as if he had experienced this before. But the fact was someone knew about his most personal needs. Fuck, what if Doug sent the pics to his parents, to his coach, like he threatened. He felt like his life would be over.
Ben avoided Doug for the remainder of the week, but after practice on Friday and since it was off-season, he went out with a couple of his buddies and drank himself drunk. He did not want to confront coming home, and what he would do...but around 8:00 p.m., he made an excuse to head to the john, and after pissing, slipped out the back of the bar and headed home. When he arrived at the Boarding House, his head was swimming, and for some reason, his prick was hard and tingling in his shorts. He entered quickly and quietly, and sprinted up to his room only banging into the wall once due to his drunken state. He felt like he might faint when he closed the bedroom door, leaning against the wall to steady himself, but then he turned and slowly walked to his telephone. Cell phones were still not common, and each resident had their own phone installed. That worked well for Scott, because he had found a way to tap each phone, and had recorded some of the sexiest phone calls; damn what boys would say to their girls in a private, late night call. But he had not used the recordings yet, as he had the pictures of Ben. If this gambit worked, Doug was prepared to use any means necessary to take control of the boys in his House. Ben finally picked up the phone, his heart was racing, and goosebumps had arisen on his arms---he dialed Doug's number. It was 8:45 p.m.
In fifteen minutes, there was knock on the door, and suddenly the door opened and Soctt walked in. Ben was sitting on the bed, his eyes bleary from the alcohol, looking sullen and apprehensive. Scott smiled, and locked the door as he closed it: "Good evening Ben, thanks for calling. I'm glad that you made a wise choice. I'd hate to send those pictures out" Doug said casually, acting as if this was a casual social visit.
Ben alternately pleaded and expressed his anger. "Why the fuck did you do this, how come yer spying on me...Jesus, I thought you were a cool dude. That's fucking perv to film another dude, please don't don't send the pictures, I don't have any money, please."
Scott listened attentively and then made it clear to Ben that money was not at the top of list of demands. "Ben, you're going to earn those pictures by doing whatever I tell you...otherwise, you're toast. And I won't take any resistance from you, understand?. If you fail to do what I ask, I'm going to walk out of this room, and the next time you'll see those pictures is when they are posted on campus, sent to your parents, or in the hands of your coach. Get it..." Doug's voice lowered, and even though his own adrenalin was flowing through his veins, he had the moxy to stare down the young athlete. Ben lowered his head staring down at the floor with a sullen expression, and mumbled through his beer soaked brain..."what'ya want me to do?" He had a sinking feeling, but Doug made his fears come to life.
Doug sat down next to Ben on the bed, and then uttered the crucial words. "Stand up in front of me Ben, and lock your hands behind your head...yeah, that's it, and spread your legs slightly." Ben was dressed in his cargo shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops. His shorts were bulging obscenely from his throbbing erection. He swayed a bit, but closed his eyes anyway, not wanting to make eye contact with Doug. In order to gain his balance he thrust out his chest and rocked on his unsteady legs.
Doug grasped the hem of Ben's t-shirt to help him balance, and then he lifted it...pushing it up over the big boy's mounded pecs, grazing the boy's nipples as the material rose, making Ben's prick burp more pre-cum from the deep pisswell into his briefs. Doug smoothed his free hand across the rippling abdominal muscles of the handsome boy, his index finger gently slipping into his hairy navel scratching it lightly making the dazed boy hunch and twist to avoid the probing finger, and then his hand glided up to the ridge of Ben's pec. Ben had gasped at the intrusion into his navel, his toes gripping the rubber sole of his flip-flops, but now he groaned loudly when Doug's fingernail grazed the underside of his areola. The nipple above thrust out angrily, seeking its own attention, but Doug just circled the areolas, making the pebbled surface rise like little goosebumps. Then without any fanfare, he grazed his fingernail across the sensitive erectile flesh of the unruly nipples.
"Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh...shit...oooooooohhhhhhhh fuuuuucccccck!" Ben groaned has his nipples were teased into erection by Doug's unerring finger tip. Girl's had raked their fingernails across Ben's chest, and his t-shirts had occasionally grazed his erect nipples. But he had never focused attention on his nips...that's something guys did to chicks. But now, he was suddenly aware of how sensitive and ticklish his tits were and Doug was playing them like a valuable, precious instrument.
"That's it Ben, enjoy it...ooooohhhhh, it feels so good huh...yeah...look at those babies, just hard and stiff. Need lots of attention don't they Ben..." Doug wet his fingertip by licking it, and then returned to the nipples, basting them and then again to gently scratching them. He upped the ante by grasping the nipples with his thumb and index finger, and gently twisted them, and then pinched. Then he returned to wetting them and scratching, alternating each action, to make the drunk boy's head swim with sensation. The hair on the back of Ben's neck rose and his temples were pounding. Doug leaned forward, and let his mouth close over one of the rubbery teats, and then pinched the other, molesting it as he confused Ben by suckling one gently and bruising the other with his pinching grip. Ben hunched over in desperation, but Doug quickly ordered him to straighten up, and in fact push his chest out. Defeated, Ben did as he was told, and secretly, he was enjoying the unbelievable sensations on his chest. "Ooooowwwww, oh Jesus...aaaaaahhhhhh, aaaaagggggghhhh..." he howled as Doug's lashing tongue and nipping teeth worried the stiff protruding boy tits.
Doug used his free hand to reach down unbutton Ben's shorts, and lower the zipper. He gripped the huge, wet bulge and gripped it to make Ben gasp, then he pushed the loose shorts below Ben's ass and let them slowly slide down his long legs to pool at his ankles. Ben's white briefs were a dazzling white the pouch bulging out obscenely, a large wet spot where his glans was copiously leaking seminal fluid. Doug sent his wicked index fingertip straight to the point where the glans was leaking, knowing that the piss lips and circumcision scar were there. As he sucked voraciously on Ben's nipples, and used his one hand to pluck and pinch the free teat, he used his ragged fingernail to begin a stead scratch of Ben's piss lips through the material of his briefs. The boy bucked from the sensation, but his hips thrust up to meet the sensation, allowing Doug to tease his pride and joy. Ben was a fucking natural.
Doug ordered Ben to lower his hands and bring just his fat cock head through the fly of his briefs, just the end of the eight inch shaft, with the bulging knob. Ben winched at being made complicit in his own seduction, but in his drunken state, and with the incredible sensations Doug was giving him, Ben didn't resist, he just stalled. Doug decided to help the boy, pulling out a bottle of Poppers, and opening it under Ben's nostrils. Ben flinched, but Doug pulled him back and ordered him to inhale, and once the fumes filled Ben's brain, making him feel even more light-headed, he soon lowered his hands and awkwardly worked his straining prick through the fly of his briefs. Doug pushed his hands away so that the drunk boy would not pull the entire shaft through the fly, and ordered his hands back behind his head. Then Doug cupped his fingers around Ben's pulsing boner and gripping just the leaking glans, twisted his finger tips around the shaft, making Ben grunt and groan helplessly.
"OOOOOOOHHHHH FUUUUUUCCK...OH SHIT...AAAAAAAAAHHHHH, JESUS, OH MY GOD, OOOOOOOHHH FUUUUCCCCCK!" It was so fucking ticklish and yet Ben couldn't stop it, there was something so incredibly satisfying about having his big penis manipulated by anyone and especially in ways he didn't do to himself when he jerked his thick prick.
Doug's lips went back to the thrusting nipples on the boy's chest, while his one hand continued to maul and twist the other free nipple and his other hand masturbated the boy's whorish prick knob, using his fingernails and fingerpads to tease the boy to distraction. From Doug's perspective, the handsome athlete, leaning forward towards the sweet torment of his cock tip, yet arched back to thrust his chest towards the delicious work on his teats, eyes closed, panting and whining, with his hands locked behind his head was about as good as it gets when training a big dicked boy to surrender to the needs of his penis. As Doug would learn, most boys are the captives of their straining pricks, but some need to learn how to give in to their fevered lust. Ben was just such a trainee, enlisted in the legions of boys and men across America who wish to turn their cocks over to someone else to manage. Someday, Ben would be happily married, and with children of his own. But a part of him would always crave what Doug was giving him. The reasons for Ben's quick surrender were as yet not fully disclosed, but they soon would come to light.
Within minutes, Doug had Ben naked and on the bed. His head was down on the bedspread, and his firm, taut ass was up in the air, while his big feet and long toes were hanging over the edge flicking restlessly in anticipation. A spreader bar was secured to the bed frame so Ben could not slide over the smooth coverlet. Ben's wrists were tethered back to the spreader bar at his ankles, and his ankles were secured to the bar that kept them three feet apart. Ben was moaning, and quietly begging Doug not to hurt him, but that was the farthest thing from Doug's mind, and given the straining erection of Ben's prick, the last thing he actually expected. Once he had Ben secured, Doug pulled up a small platform that was adjustable in terms of height. The platform sat on the bed, between Ben's outstretched legs, built of wood and pvc plastic tubing. On the business part of the platform was a socket secured to the surface in which items could be screwed in place at an adjustable angle. Doug had created the device to screw various sized vibrating prods into the socket that he could slide up and into place behind the asses of boys and men like Ben who were safely secured in place on some surface like a bed, a table, a bench, etc. This was Doug's inaugural trial of the device, and its success would inspire him to create more in his spare time. Since the platform could adjust to the height of the ass in question, Doug had it at the correct height for Ben's quivering, ragged ass lips. When Doug rolled the platform up to Ben's clenched anus, and the buzzing tip of the prod made contact with the boy's resisting portal, Ben squealed as if he had been stuck like a pig and his prick quivered as if he would shoot his spooge spontaneously over the coverlet. Later, Doug would learn the whole story.
Ben Broken In
When Ben was thirteen, his father who was devoutly religious, asked a doctor who was part of the family church to be Ben's pediatrician. The family knew Dr. Allen from church, and he had always been kind if distant towards Ben and the other children. They would see him at church, and occasionally his father's men's group from the church would come to their house for meetings.
Prior to his first appointment, Ben had only been to the doctor on an infrequent basis. But his father thought it high time for him to have annual physicals. He would need them if he was going out for sports anyway, so this would be a natural part of his wellness progression. Ben had been masturbating for at least two years, discovering in the shower how good it felt to soap his hands and run them up the already impressive length of his penis. The shooting sensations of dry cums, that made his toes clench and his whole body quiver, gave way to explosive ejaculations in the shower where he had the privacy of whack his stiff boner into submission and shoot his boy spunk without leaving a messy trail. Ben had also developed a predilection for using a pillow when he fucked the bed because it allowed him to drive his penis in a natural fucking motion into the soft material and to lift his ass up and drive down in a natural motion. He had learned this from watching his father masturbate once, seeing the older man drive his sticky boner into a pillow as if he was fucking his wife, and driving his raised and powerful thighs into the yielding sham.
Little did Ben know that this knowledge would come back to haunt him. When he arrived at Dr. Allen's office for his physical, he just hoped it would be over soon and he would not have to have any shots. But when Dr. Allen got through the basic elements of the physical, he introduced what would become Ben's special treatment. He pulled up a chair on casters, and asked the undersized teenager to lower his briefs to his ankles. Ben looked down sheepishly, and immediately began to develop an erection. "Fuck, why did the Dr. need to lower his fucking shorts." Quietly, Ben slowly lowered his shorts, and placed his hands in front of his genitals. But the Doctor pushed his hands aside and told him to put them behind his head. Ben blushed six shades of red, as his oversized penis, already six inches in length, rose steadily to aim straight up and out, its fat plum of a knob already leaking seminal fluid. Ben closed his eyes and wanted to die, but he stood trembling as the Dr. lifted his testicles and checked for hernia. That was the easy part.
Suddenly, Dr. Allen grasped Ben's penis at the fat tip, and began to thumb it. Then he spoke calmly and quietly to Ben: "Ben, how often do you masturbate?" Ben flushed again, goosebumps breaking out all over his body and his trembling increased markedly. He didn't answer, he couldn't. Dr. Allen, though, was persistent. "Ben, if you don't answer my questions I think we'll have to invite your father in from the waiting room and ask him to ask the questions. Is that what you want?"
This made Ben open his eyes, and look at the Doctor, as if to see if he was serious. "No Doc, no, don't ask Dad in...please don't."
"Then you'll need to answer my questions directly, do you understand?" The Doctor made firm eye contact with Ben, his unsmiling face and persistent thumb making Ben want to faint. Ben's penis was staying absolutely rigid, and the rubbing thumb smoothed any precum around the glistening glans and the ticklish corona.
"Yes Doctor," Ben said in a quiet, breathless voice almost squeaking out his answer.
"Now, how often do you masturbate, Ben."
Ben whispered his answers to Dr. Allen's questions, admitting that he masturbated once or twice each day, and forced to describe how he did it. When the Dr. expressed surprise at how Ben played with his penis, using the pillow, the Dr. asked questions that lead to Ben admitting to seeing his father masturbate. Aha, the doctor implied, `you're a little voyeur, liking to watch men play with their penises?' Ben did not answer, but his silence was like an admission of guilt and the doctor explained that boy's like him needed special treatment. He ordered Ben up on the padded exam table.
He pulled Ben's briefs down to his ankles, and let the boy's feet hang over the end of the table, with his knees spread as wide as the table would safely allow. He pushed Ben's head down on the table and told him not to move. Then he produced a bottle of Vaseline, put on surgical gloves and dipped his finger into the gel and without any warning, spread Ben's strong boy cheeks with one hand and swiped his finger back and forth with the Vaseline against the boy's defenseless anal split. Ben gasped in surprise, and asked the doctor what he intended to do, but Dr. Allen ordered him to be still, and let him do the exam. When Ben, whose cock was leaking copiously onto the table showed the temerity to ask again, Dr. Allen asked him if he wanted to explain to his father how he had learned to masturbate using a pillow.
Ben shut up immediately, and within seconds the Doctor's thick, blunt finger pried its way into the boy's hot, clinging asshole. Ben squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to force out the intrusion into his virgin boy hole. But the Dr. knew how to manage horny, hard dicked teenage boys, and Ben was soon bucking on the incredible wriggling finger that was fucking him. Dr. Allen carried out his insidious task with an impassive expression, a most clinical manner. Only his own erection, trapped behind his slacks and medical coat, betrayed the excitement he felt from the digital masturbation of the submissive boy under his control.
On this first occasion, the Doctor eventually worked two fingers into the boy, fucking him persistently, and grazing his prostate to make him grunt, and whine, and plead that he feared he would cum. But Allen ignored the boy's entreaties, using his fingers of his free hand to ruthlessly masturbate the boy's prick knob. Dr. Allen loved taking control of boys' sensitive cock heads. Most boys were not aware of their bodies and how sensitive they were. Seizing control of Ben's fat prick tip was a shock to the innocent boy, and he was virtually helpless in the hands of the experienced, older man who teased his bulging crown mercilessly. When Ben jerked his bone, he used long strokes because his glans was so sensitive, and avoided touching it too much. That was how he needed to the masturbated in order to ejaculate. Sensing this because the boy was unable to cum, but leaked pre-cum profusely and whined from the incredible sensation enveloping his fat glans, Allen kept working the knob as he finger-banged the thirteen year old boy, turning the big boy into putty he could use to his heart's content. It took fifteen to twenty minutes, but finally, Dr. Allen rolled his masturbating fist from cock root to knob, and thumbed the boy's glass smooth prick tip as he stroked, sending the boy over the edge as he continued to slide his fingers into the teenage rectum. Ben saw stars, planets, and novae all at the same time, shooting long strands of ejaculate over the table and the pious doctor's unrelenting hand. Finally, he stopped, smiling to himself as he discovered that Ben had tightly curled his toes, almost draining the blood from them during the ejaculation. This was the beginning of Ben's training.
Once per year, twice when he was sixteen and went out for the team, and until he went away to college, Ben was stripped, inspected with his hands behind his head, and masturbated both front and back until he squirted gobs of boy cream. By the time he was eighteen, his penis was eight thick inches long, and the fat knob was a fist full. Dr. Allen reveled in working the boys prick tip, sometimes spanking him, sometimes using devices to fuck his bung, but always keeping him in the humiliating position of his head down and his ass up. Ben for his part, had learned to secretly enjoy the Doctor's ruthless exams, but only saw him once per year, except on one or two occasions when his father's men's group from the church met at their house. On those occasions, the Doctor had boldly stolen up to Ben's room after he had gone to bed, and milked him right in his own bedroom, closing the bedroom door, and locking the bathroom door, to protect their privacy and Ben's submission. But the rest of the year, Ben bifurcated and separated this experience from the rest of his life, assuming no other male had undergone the strange experience he had. He dated girls, and fucked them. But the night that Doug had caught him ass up with fingers in his rectum, he had been reliving the incredible experience he had had at Dr. Allen's hands. Choosing the same position to rape Ben's ass was simply following best practices for Doug...but it was also part of a Jungian archetype that had been firmly implanted into Ben's psyche. The squeal from sensing the buzzing prod was about to launch Ben into sensations far beyond what his family Doctor had taught him, yet affirm his need for domination.
Doug slathered lubricant over the prod again, after tickling the boy's shuddering bung hole, and then slowly worked the prod past the resisting lips. He got some help by tickling Ben's wet and glassy cock crown, distracting the hunky college boy, and allowing the prod to twist its way up his now gripping rectum. Boy's like Ben were bred to be bred, and his asshole once breached voraciously consumed the buzzing tormentor, gripping it as if to make it fuck him as ruthlessly as Dr. Allen's fingers. But the buzzing was so new, so different, he thought he might ejaculate spontaneously! But before he could focus on his cum, Doug slipped a penis gag into his mouth with another vibrating prod, buzzing his teeth and the roof of his mouth, completely distracting him. He sputtered round the humming prod, and soon was sucking it like a mother's teat...helpless to do anything but what Doug demanded.
Now Doug leaned down, and slipped his head under the raised torse of the boy, flicking his finger into Ben's exposed navel, seeking out the rubbery tit nubs to gently pinch them, and then putting his face near the boy's rigid prong. Then he gripped the fat glans in his fist, and began a glans only masturbation. He did not know that this would keep the bound college boy on the edge of his cum. Doug could hear Ben's uncontrolled squeals and whines from behind the gag. Once again Ben's oversized cock head was in the control of an older man, and the delicious sensations the man's fingers and fist were producing man him into a babbling college boy slut.
"Aaaaaaaaiiiiieeeeeeee...ooooooooooouuuuuuuggggghhhh...nnnnnaaaaaahhhhhhhh..., wwwwwaaaaaaaaa...aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"
After thirty minutes of dragging the boy up to the brink of ejaculation, and then keeping him bucking, toes curling, and whining, Doug slid his hand to the bottom of the throbbing shaft, and milked the whole penis, thumbing and fisting the prick tip on his way up, and then again as he went down. That did it...Ben was now out of control, his body completely belonging to Doug. When the man flicked a switch and turned the vibrator up to full, that coupled with the full masturbation of his prick, sent Ben over the edge. He began to ejaculate wildly, shooting long bolts of starchy sperm out of his piss lips, up to his face and chin on the bed, and dousing the coverlet as he yelled into his gag. Doug made a mental note that he would need to use a towel with Ben in the future, as the college boy inundated the bed.
"AAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH...OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH...AAAAAHHH!" Ben wailed into the buzzing gag that made his head spin. It was the first of many nights before Ben graduated that he surrendered his big boy body to Doug's management, and on top of that, Doug was able to force the boy not to masturbate. The threat of being exposed, and his willing submission to a figure of authority combined with the exhilarating ejaculations that Doug wrung from his spunk laden balls. Ben was addicted to the delicious ejaculations, even as he believed them to be strange and abnormal. He become dependent on Doug for his release, and the nights he spent on his bed, in Doug's workshop in the basement, and tied to Doug's bed face up for special sessions, left Ben a humble and otherwise chaste boy, desperate and prick hard. After earning his AA degree, Ben transferred to a college down South, rather than in Southern California to put distance between himself and Doug. The night of his graduation, while his parents slept in a vacant room in the Boarding House, Ben had his last explosive session with Doug, gagged and bound on his lap while Doug milked him three times as a farewell gesture, savoring one last time the boy's big body.
As a graduation present, Doug gave Ben the pictures and negatives he had taken over the time Ben stayed at the Boarding House, including the original ones that led him down this path, and then he wished him well. Amazingly, Ben would send Doug a Christmas card each year, letting him know how he had met a wonderful girl, got married and was now a father of two boys. He also let him know that Dr. Allen had returned to be a part of his life, and to his old ways, once he and his family had returned home to live close to his family. Once per year, as always, Dr. Allen would put Ben ass up in his office and milk him as he had before the boy had left for college. Ben was once again the cock slave of an older man. He merely accepted his fate, not knowing that he was not the only boy or man in America who needed to be managed by an older male at the same time he enjoyed a regular sexual and marital life at home with his spouse and family.
Doug smiled as he read Ben's latest card. You just couldn't make this stuff up...
Next: Room 2c