Sorry for the delay, but I moved. The 5th chapter should be cumming shortly.
Tricking and Treating the Quarterback, Part 4
Paul headed to Mrs. Cunningham's estate.
The dark haired quarterback was making the rounds for the trick-or-treat donations the football team did every year.
His coach had introduced him to man to man sex less than 3 hours ago, sending him trick-or-treating in a Tarzan loincloth.
The 6'3" stud had been stripped of hair, virginity and costume over the last few hours, and was now dressed as a dog, with paws on his feet and hands, and a "tail" shoved up his ass with some loincloth thing that made the tail look as if it was attached to the waist cloth.
Paul was having a hard time keeping his cock even semi-hard, and had lost count of the men who'd used him and said, "See you later."
What did that mean?
And how could he walk into Mrs. Cunningham's like this? The woman threw a huge costume ball at her estate every year. A hundred of the areas wealthiest men and women attended, and he even was wearing dog ears with instructions to remove nothing.
The waist cloth even had a "slot" for his cock like a real dog.
The "tail" was rubbing his prostate and making his cock want to stand up straight.
He was really enjoying this evening, but Paul started to whimper, then cry as he drove. He'd sucked dick. Gotten fucked. Been shaved. Had his cock caged. He'd always envisioned himself as a stud. He'd had girls, but he'd never thought about men, their dicks, their bodies, and tonight, his coach had seduced him, and apparently set him up for other men on his route to use him.
Then another thought struck Paul ^Ö he wasn't the first.
Last year, a senior, Marcus Ralph, had this route. Paul remembered Marcus because the blonde full back had expected to wear his full uniform like the rest of the team last year, but had said he ended up wearing just padding and a few other choice pieces. When guys had asked Marcus about his route, he'd just smiled, said he got a lot more than he thought, and then changed the subject.
The year before that, Radley Smithers had the route for his second year. Paul remembered being a freshman and being late and seeing Radley in a similar outfit. Radley'd never said anything. Paul's mind reeled.
The Cunningham estate loomed.
Paul walked up to the door and rang the loud, lyric bell.
The large double doors parted and Paul heard the string quintet cease its playing.
"The quarterback has arrived," Mrs. Cunningham's butler announced.
Paul was staring at one hundred people dressed in various costumes. And they were staring at him.
Mrs. Cunningham, dressed with a towering powdered wig that Paul guessed was at least 3 feet tall, and a Marie Antoinette gown, stepped forward, curtsied and handed Paul an envelop.
Then the guests formed a line and did the same. About 15 guests into the line, the butler appeared with a basket for Paul.
Paul recognized some of the guests as their costumes were meant for entertainment, not disguise, and almost all the guests recognized Paul, many commenting on his costume.
A few women brushed Paul's abs, some his nipples and one reached around and patted his ass. All the guests were watching Paul's reactions.
A tall man Paul didn't know leaned into the quarterback and whispered, "shake the tail, doggie."
Paul immediately did.
"Again," a woman yelped.
Paul blushed, nearly to his cock.
The tall man placed an envelop in the basket and a smaller one into his paw covering his hand.
The line continued with other embarrassing comments and touches. Women groped. Men commanded.
When people weren't watching, some men would slip paper into his paw, between the costume and hand where no one would see. So far, the men were single.
As the line dwindled down, the revelers lost interest and the string quintet started playing again.
A couple was left in line which Paul recognized as Mr. And Mrs. Barriston. He was a prominent attorney; she, a socialite and party planner.
She had a reputation as a shrew, with a voice that would turn shrill when she was displeased. She had the look of a spinster librarian, hair pulled back in a tight bun and a thin nose.
Her husband was Paul's height, but it was obvious Mr. Barriston worked out. They were dressed as a circus strong man and a trapeze artist. Mr. Barriston's costume showed off his muscled chest and strong arms, taut legs and form.
Mrs. Barrister placed the envelop in the basket, and walked away.
Mr. Barrister stood there as Mrs. Cunningham came up and patted Paul's ass.
"Thank you for coming, young man. I like this costume much more than those uniforms," she said. "Tell the coach we loved it."
She bent in and pecked Paul's face.
She left. Mr. Barrister placed an arm around Paul's shoulder and started walking the boy around as he chattered away about something Paul didn't understand.
When Mr. Barrister stopped talking, Paul realized they were in a room with the door closed and the party couldn't even be heard. Paul looked around the room. It matched the hostess' gown. A 4-poster bed, elaborate fabrics and wall paper, all with a rich French theme including a large, nearly wall length mirror.
"Have you been a good doggie tonight, Paul?" Mr. Barrister asked in his voice that reminded Paul of Tom Selleck. Mr. Barrister had a hand on Paul's ass.
"Yes, sir," Paul said.
"On all fours, doggie," Mr. Barrister said. Mr. Barrister pulled his loincloth to the side and a 7.5 cut cock slinked free. "Lick."
Paul did, sliding the tip of the warm flesh into his mouth, his tongue circling Mr. Barrister's head. Mr. Barrister's hand connected firmly with Paul's head.
"I said `lick', boy," the man said.
Paul released the cock head and licked the cock like a lollipop, moving up to the head, then down to Mr. Barrister's nuts. He licked those, too.
Mr. Barrister slipped the loin cloth off, and spread his legs. Paul licked lower until the muscled man's pucker was at the tip of Paul's tongue.
"You like licking shit holes, doggie?" Mr. Barrister asked with a sneer.
Paul was silent. "Sniff it, then, doggie."
Paul did.
Mr. Barrister's ass was clean, but it was a man's ass. Paul sniffed soap, sweat and the tang of the attorney's waste hole.
It stiffened Paul's pecker. His tongue lapped out for the man hole, but the attorney nudged away.
"I asked you a question, doggie. You like licking shit holes?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ask to do so, doggie."
Paul's dick had grown through the costume's dick sheath. He was on all fours and looked like a dog eating a shitter.
"May I lick your ass, sir?"
"Not ass, doggie."
After a pause, Paul said, "May I lick your shit hole, sir?"
"Good doggie," Mr. Barrister said, backing up a little.
Paul lapped at the hole. Mr. Barrister's hole was a little hairy, but more smooth. The texture intoxicated Paul and he wasn't sure how long he licked and ate the attorney's hot hole.
He was so distracted, he didn't notice another man enter the room until he felt the "tail" being pulled from his ass.
Mr. Barrister put his hand on the back of Paul's head and turned around.
"You like sucking dick, doggie?"
"Yes. May I suck your dick, sir?" Paul begged, but tried to turn his head to see who was behind him. Many of the men in line had been very handsome, some average and a couple Paul considered homely, but they all attracted the young athlete. He was in heat.
"Don't look, doggie. Suck," Mr. Barrister said, and shoved his precum drooling pecker in the boy's mouth.
Paul felt a cock slip up his ass, deep. He knew it was long, but couldn't tell how long. He then remembered the mirror and glanced there.
It was the butler.
Behind the mirror, Mr. Barrister's wife said, "My husband is such a slut. He could never find a woman to lick his ass. Thank God we found a queer pool boy."
"Does the pool boy fuck him, too?" Mrs. Cunningham asked, fanning herself.
"Oh, no. The gardener fucks him, but only if we pay extra, in cash. This boy appears to really like this. Maybe we can get him to do my husband," Mrs. Barrister chuckled.
The party of 8 watched as the butler pumped his long rod in the quarterback's ass while the dark haired athlete sucked Mr. Barrister's dick deep.
Paul felt a warm feeling in his ass, and then the taste of attorney cum in his mouth.
When the butler pulled out, the party of 8 behind the mirror left. So did the butler.
Paul and Mr. Barrister were alone, Paul licking Mr. Barrister's penis clean.
Mr. Barrister reached under the quarterback and stroked his cock.
"Don't cum yet, doggie," Mr. Barrister whispered in the used boy's ear. "You have another stop."
A gleam entered Paul's eyes. He really liked Mr. Barrister.
"You're going to see me later, at the next stop?"
"Doubtful, doggie. While I am invited, I don't imagine my bitch of a wife will let me get out of here that soon."
Paul thought for a moment.
"What's at the next stop, sir?"
"More," Mr. Barrister cryptically said. "More."
The attorney released Paul's dick, pulled the boy to his feet by lifting his chin and planted a tongue-filled kiss on the quarterback's lips.
"You'll have to come visit me, Paul. Now, go get your final donation."
Mr. Barrister lubed and inserted the boy's tail back in Paul's shitter.
Mr. Barrister laid on the 4-poster bed and Paul headed out the door. The room was at the end of a hall. Paul followed it and reached a servant's exit. His truck was right outside the door.
"Maybe the butler put it there," Paul thought.
The basket with the donations was in the seat.
Paul climbed in the truck and turned the key.
He was expected at the next stop, dressed as a dog, to be used as a dog.
Paul didn't know the surprises in store for him, but he was sure he was headed for a treat.
To be concluded.
Men and boys, thanks for your comments. For those men and boys able to handle things a bit more extreme, e-mail me for a slight story alternation. Remember to put something in the subject line, or I think it's spam and delete it.