Whore and Order by Mike Lynch
Disclaimer: This is a imagined, fictional story that may contain scenes of a graphical nature that may not be legal in your area. If you are under 18, or if material of this nature is illegal in your present location, exit now. Indifference to consequences of violent and sexual activity can be undertaken with impunity only this fictional world. When real, play safe.
Comments, ideas are welcome, feel free to contact me. Lynch.uM@gmail.com
Chapter One: The Rapture
`Fuck!' I snap awake. I nearly drove my Pajero off the road. It is about 3.30AM and I was sound asleep half an hour ago. I flexed my sore hand. I had reacted automatically, backhanding my boy for not waking me correctly. It was only as I saw the phone's hand piece fly across the floor that I understood there must be some emergency. "Sorry master," he wined scurrying to retrieve it with difficulty in the halters I left on him last night. When he gave me the phone I heard why he was confused. Someone was yelling hoarsely into the other end of the line. I finally realized it was Crosser, a mate who sounded like he was in real trouble through some practical joke would not be beyond him. More importantly he is the only major shareholder of PRICKorp to live in my area. I am the Director of the local PRIC(Private Regional Institution for Correction), which makes Crosser my boss and makes me jump even early Sunday morning.
I am ready to break in when I arrive at the house but I find the door open. As I enter I hear calls from the bedroom. I carefully enter to find a fellow dissipate shackled to his own bed. He laughs and cries when he sees me; I quickly turn my smirk to a sympathetic scowl.
He obscenely berates me for the time it took me get here, while he condemns the perpetrators of the vile insult to his dignity. Eventually he tells me where I can find the keys to the cuffs that held his hands and I am able to release him. Minutes later over scotch he tells me about it. We have had these butch blabberings about bonking before but never in circumstances like this. "I want them caught and locked away if only because they stole my best toys," he confides, "but keep it quite." "Of course," I reassure. I have a good memory so I need take no notes:
Statement by an impeccable source:
I am woken by mouth and tongue on my cock that has stirring before I have. Its tip is already emerging from its flesh coat. It is guided to semi-whole into spittle hole. I throw the sheet aside and look down on Paul's blond tussocks bobbling up and down on my crutch. One of my hands plays with his hair as the other searches for his other fuck chute. It is still creamy from my emissions delivered a few hours ago. Paul always expects a morning glory to finish our evening get together and I am pleased to humour his vices. He moans as I slip my finger... Ring, the front door bell. Paul moves his full lips from my hard-on to nip my nipples then turns to lie on his tummy so his... Ring, Ring "Who in God's name would be ringing the bell this early on a fucking Saturday morning?" I curse. "It might be important," Paul suggests facing me, leaning on an elbow.
We often meet at the gym. His tanned body had tone not muscles. This suited his lean body. His stiffy is declining in the strip of white groin that emphasised his deep tan. Ring, Ring, Ring. I grudging get out of bed and slip on a sarong, folding it so my priapic protrudence is hidden in its folds.
Ring, Ring. Alright, this better be good I think as I open the door. "Good morning sir could I interest you in some of our literature on how our saviour is..." Shit who else would it be this hour of a Saturday. The dark haired, black trousered, white shirted, black tied, thirty odd bloke held a magazine to my face. Behind him a young lad identically dressed hung back, head down. I just did not want to even tell them to piss off so I pulled at my sarong and let it fall to the ground. I am tall, brunet with a little grey, work out, am well hung. My cock had retreated to its foreskin but it is still swollen from interrupted congress. "Sir you are offending my sensibilities," Or some such is uttered by the bloke. He even tried to hide my penis from his fellow postulate with his religious mag. This made me laugh. He retreats away from my threshold in panic. "Come on Jonathan," he has to say because the young lad is still standing staring at my crotch. Jonathan blinks and obediently turns and follows.
I watch them retreat down the garden path but as turned to shut the door Paul pushes past me, dressed. "Nice one," he said as he bent to kiss my cock, "must run." He is gone. I furiously slam the door. I am up now so I dress and head to the shops for breakfast and groceries. On the way back home an hour or so latter I see Jonathan sitting on the fence of the house on the corner of my street. Well at least they will not be bothering me again after my flash attack, I think. I am wrong. I have just dumped the groceries on the breakfast bench and go to shut the front door when I see Jonathan standing, shame faced, eyes down, framed in its jamb. "Hallo Jonathan," I say. He grunts, his eyes on my chest. Jonathan is an obedient, polite boy so when I invite him: "come in," he obeys. I shut the door behind him. I pull him further into my lounge room using his tie. I loosen it and take it off. "Take ya shirt off," I suggest. He does slowly almost like he is teasing me. Then I am in no hurry, the day had an early start.
I say nothing more but the youth continues to disrobe slowly. He has a white Chesty Bond singlet he slips over his head. He undoes his belt and pants and they drop. His undies are white with front pouch with piss flap but only had a strap linking the front to the rear elastic, this disappeared between his buttocks. He is about to pull them down. "Leave them on," I order, "get the rest off." His trousers are a jumble around his black leather shoes. He must bend to remove them. I support his shoulder against my hip as I run my hand down his naked back, around the cantaloupe buns of his posterior. Tentatively a middle finger explores his holy of holies, it is dry, virginal tight. I am adding to the difficulty the lad has kicking off his shoes and pants. They end in a pile on living room floor. He is tanned to his briefs white to his knees tanned to his toes as one who wears boardshorts. His eyes are lowered as he stands to attention before me. His prick I see is also at attention within the confines of cotton. So is mine.
"Ya want to be ravished in the biblical sense," I amuse myself. He is uncomfortable, shuffling his feet on my lounge' carpet. "Well if ya want to make me sin with ya boy ya junna have to seduce me ya harlot. I would not want to take advantage of ya." A shake of his bent head. I wondered if he could talk. "Start undressing me." I command. I reckon if I am to mine this lads shaft with my demon donger his is going to have to help. In half a minute he slips my T-shirt up over my head. I have no singlet and am taller then him so our chest touch, he is goosebumped but his nipples are hot. He bends to remove my runners, undoes my belt, pulls down my cut-off shorts. "Take the briefs off too," I enlighten him. When he slips them past my dick it springs alive smacking him on the chin. It is so hard it could raise the dead. He is frozen bent, looking at it. My cock's twenty odd centimetres is shaped like a flat arrow head. It is its widest half way along its length. Its circumference at this place would be the same as the length. My cherub is drooling staring at my drooling precum. He kneels in homage to my manhood.
"Lick it." He tongues my head and fuck juices tentatively, I can see his surprised by the bitter, savoury flavour of the communion. For a long while he played a hymn along my organ with his tongue, pausing at my piss slit for the taste of my sex vinaigrette. "Suck it." He takes my cock into his mouth. "Watch the teeth." Once his are teeth out of the way he easily communes with the bow of my boat shaped love loaf but that is only half way. "Take all of it." I gave slight pressure to the back of his head. Jonathan has been taught to do what he is told and tries to oblige. My meat has convex sides so once the first 100 mil go down the next 100 slide in. The kid choked, gagged, bit my dick. I clipped his ear for that. My dick head get burnt by bile, making me draw back. "It's alright," I reassured playing with his wavy black hair, "just breath with it, like ya holding a note in choir."
I let him do his own thing, soon he had my cobra head sliding past his lips, its thick centre jostling with his tonsils. I am standing without support. I patiently wait till he swallows all my eclipse into his throat. With this and each of the subsequent passages I want to violently wriggle my body, collapse in a heap and cream his foodpipe. Instead I tense my muscles mastering the eclectic ecstasy. My new friend likes this, he massages the taunt muscles of my thighs, heightening the pleasure, the need, making me tense the more. His sputum is dribbling down his chin, he wipes it away. "Don't waste that, prime ya anus so I can sodomise ya," I command him. He obeys. He is taking recovery breaths as he spits a great golly from his mouth and transfers it into his rear sanctum. He licks my balls, hands on my taunt globular maxima, his tongue runs along my phallus, before swallowing it again.
The lad's doing homage at my crotch altar lasts along time. He adds lots more spittle to his hole of glory. I lean over his head to check it out. It is still tight but juicy. In bending over him I ram my penis deep into his oesophagus which involuntarily, sucks it convulsively. Jonathan and I teeter then start to collapse, me forward, the lad backward. We both use out arms to cushion the fall but it ends with me on top of his face. My cock is anchored deep in a flood of digestive liquids and I can not stop pumping my host of seed violently straight down his guts. "Jesus fucking Christ," I yell ecstatic. After another moment I note the kid cannot breathe so I sit back on his belly disengaging my snake head, from his mouth. It spits the last of it venom on his heaving chest. His deep desperate breaths lead to coughing, spluttering as his mouth and windpipe are drowned in my jizt. My bare buttocks can feel the cum that has been deposited, at some stage, in his undies.
He is breathing freer and says the first thing since he arrived at my door. "Thank (gerrgul) you sir." He is looking for some where to spit. Then he looks at me and remembers. I lift myself off him so he can add it to the other lop up his arse. I move to the fridge. He moves to his clothes. "Woow! Hold on there. I ain't ministered to ya rear cloister yet mate." A confused smile crossed his sweat covered countenance. I go to him and give him a beer. As he took the alcohol a guilty look came into his eyes. This is strange given all the transgressions he had just committed. We both take a drink. I am thirsty and he had a foodpipe to wash. I look down at him still on his haunches at my feet. His long tongue shots out lizard like to lap up a dangling dag from the end of my dick. We smile at each other. He puts his beer on the coffee table by a wall and starts to lick the diminishing arch of my dick. It stays in a detumescent curve as he lapped at the small head that teetered between lockerooming in its foreskin or leading from the front.
I bend to place my beer next to his. On the way up I check his butt hole again. It is still spittle lobbed and the lad gollies again into his hand. He is leaning forward on one hand while he uses the other to push sputum into his anal portal. The youth takes a drink but as he puts his beer back down he knocks mine over. He stands it back up but it is dripping off the table. I give his left buttock a hard open hand slap. "Lick it up before it gets on the carpet". He is on hands and knees desperately trying to lick and suck up the spill flashing one red and one white taillight at me. My cock head takes the lead. I kneel behind him to take him doggie style. I slide between his calves spreading his thighs. I pull his undies down under his butt cheeks. This emphasises them like a pair of honey-dew melons. I feel his tight ball sack and squeeze it. Jonathan moans. His has a stiff prick inside the damp confines of his underwear.
He has one arm on the table the other on the floor. I take a swig of my beer, deliberately tipping what is left on the table and in his hair. So he continues to be occupied lapping it up as my cock tests his sphincter. The first deep probe I make of that inlet between melon cliffs brings an instinctive pull away, dislodging my beachhead.
I slap the cove's right melon, leaving bookend marks. I lean across him, forcing his face into the table. I pick up his beer, straighten up. I look down on my servitor, my solid staff in mid air between us.
After a big swig I tip some in the hollow between his shoulders. I tip the rest of the can on the table, on his head. He shivers, licks.
I positioned my cock then bend down to slurp the spill on his back. My large hands grasp my catamite's cantaloupe buttocks, pulling them towards me and apart.
My dick-head is in before he realises it but as my hard-on fanned out he writhes under me, whimpers a little and sucks at the table hard. Once the broad side of my elliptical cock is in it is a delicate interplay between the desire of his anal sphincter to close tightly, which draws me deeper, against the extent of his rectum and its nascence to objects the size of my engorged penis. Thus the natural functioning of Jonathan's pleasure portal drew me deep into him. I pull back, in, soon I am rooting him. At first I drive my meat back in before half way out but soon I am coming almost out then shoving it back in. At first Jonathan's grunts and writhing would suggest he is in purgatory but he is soon responding sending us both to heaven. My bell tower rings again below my slat hard steeple pumping my milk deep into his honey arse-land.
I am done, about to pull out when I feel him cuming via the pulse of his arse-blow. I slide my steeple back in helping to push the spunk from his balls while letting his arse ring the last of manner from my bells. Jonathan is a good boy, he keep his underpants on so none of it got on the carpet. I bend over him, lick his beery flesh, slurp beer on the table. Our lips meet and we nearly kiss but the angle makes my detumescent cock suddenly slid out. We are both `oooharring' from extreme sensitivity. I stand and look down. My lolling arrowhead points to the smirk on the youth's face. I know I had one on mine. I expect him to have to go but he is content to have a second beer. His neat hair is now a mattered mess of dregged beer. He smells like a brewery. He tells some of his story. "I'm no virgin." He confesses. " My broh, I mean my real brother or half brother fucked me last summer. He's a year younger than me. His why my dad kicked my mum out though he weren't born at the time if ya know what I mean. I ain't see her for years. I find her, looked up the divorce and stuff. I meet David and he takes me surfing and stuff. Shit, if my dad knew. He believes poofters like me should spend a life in jail before we are doomed to hell."
While he goes to shower I think: no I am not surprised you are not a virgin, your brother's younger than you, you dad's probably a bog-poof, why am I here when he is in the shower? He is on his mobile when I enter the bathroom, "I'm sure, hay I gotta go," he put the mobile down on the vanity. He is totally stripped. He turns to me. I see his prick and balls for the first time. The short, cut prick hung barely noticeable, in a mass of black pubes mattered with dried spunk. I had not bothered to put on pants. We were side on to the bathrooms large mirror, his prick stiffens to about a dozen centimetres, as my phallus solidified in the gentle tug of his hand. He leads me by it into the shower. I turn on the water "Ya know how ya made me wanna be fucked by you," he says soaping and washing me. "Eh, yeh!" "Well my brother wants ta be rooted, properly fucked but I am not the man to do it," he admits kneeling to soap my legs, licking along my cock at the same time. I shampooed his hair. "Well I'm sure we could do something if he co-operated, otherwise I could tie him up?" I laugh.
He stood and we kiss on the lips but that is not what he wanted. He turned to the tilled wall parting his legs so I could bugger him again. He must have toileted because his arse shaft is tight, devoid of my fuck dregs. There is plenty of water and soap to allow me mount a quick crusade on my acolyte's rear sanctuary, blasting it again with my weapon of mass deposition. We dried each other, I tickle him. My bathroom has an entrance to my bedroom. We go there and I slip on a sarong. I delve into my special draw and get a piece of clothing for Jonathan. It is a kid leather cup with a waist and two garter like thigh straps that buckle. Jonathan covers his nuts and bolt leaving hot arse on show. I cook, the lad has steak, I have lamb chops, both with salad. We talk a little trite while we eat. I do not really know if I want him to hang around much longer when the front door rang. "That will be Bill," my companion chirps up. His brother, Bill, is in the doorway, he opened the door himself. I think, no I never locked it. "How's my big brother," he says as he advanced into my house and looked down on his sibling who had raced to meet him.
He is lanky, taller than me but the lanky frame could mature with muscle and masculinity. His hair is cut from inconvenient places like over his eyes or ears, but is never brushed so it hangs in lank strips of bleach blond and dark brown. His long torso swam in the singlet he wore. It has a hole exposing a large magenta nipple with small ring. His jeans were stove pipes but had no knees other than his own knobbly ones. They also had a stain around the inner thigh where his dick hid. I bet it is long and thin. The long bony feet and toes are shod in size twelve thongs. "Something to eat," I offer him. "A meat sandwich will suit me fine." I offer a shower but he declines. He smells of sweat and ozone aphrodisiac. He is drinking form a bottle of `JB', did Jonathan raided my drinks cabinet or did Bill bring it with him. The white lines he spreads on my kitchen bench are certainly his. I decline the offer to sniff a line. While I am cleaning up, making his sandwich they are in the bedroom raiding my toy draw. What the heck. I sniff a line. Shit, speed not coke. I get the gin out and take a swig.
The brothers return, crowding my small kitchen. Bill is much as he left, Jonathan is pornographically attired. Bill has contrived two of my straps to start in the front of his brother's neck to move across his shoulders down his back such that they pulled between melon butt-buns to his garters. Jonathan merely had to walk, bend or lean and his buttocks parted to a deep maroon flash. I give the sandwich to Bill when I realise my sarong is on the floor. Why try and retrieve it when Bill is the only one attired. I lift his tank top and suck the salt off his flat lanky longitudinal stomach muscles, eat the mussel in his navel. I suck the ringed nipples. The brothers are intercoursing by mouth and tongue. There is no belt, no underwear, his jeans peal away to show no lanky rod. It is a surf board rising from the curl. His dick is the same shape as mine, about my size. I fall to my knees and pash it to solid. He rides it along the wave of my tongue deep into and out of my mouth while eating the sandwich. My spearhead is bowed. It is letting me down. I have cum three times in the last few hours but in circumstances like this.
Jonathan tongue is in my butt chute, I ram my mouth onto my cock's twin. When he finished the sandwich Bill lifted me with a hand under one armpit and bent me over my bar. Waite, I do not have a bar in my house but the breakfast bench is where we are at, where the liquor is, where the powder is and is where my head is now pressed. I have lobed his dick, Jonathan lobed my anal sphincter. I sneeze razing cloud of powder that sends the boys into a frenzy of sniffing while Bill rides his board along my anal tube. I cry from the impact, taste drugs, splutter. My pink ball gag is stuffed into my open mouth and secured behind my head. I utter muffled grunts as I am screwed for the first time in a generation. I look back to see Bill with his pants at his thighs, Jonathan sucking his arse. He quickly cums, dumping his salty foam within me in hard jabs that have me gurgle yelps with each. Bill had been holding both my arms during this so he can easily cuff my hands behind my back as I contemplate his hardwood sliding out of me. The rest of the evening is pretty much a wipe out for me.
The boys manhandle me to my bed and used my cuffs to link me to my bedhead. Bill had a couple of fuckees and a load of sex toys to experiment with. He starts using my vibrating dildo on me and his dick is up his brother. I remember his broh sucking his cock as he slashed my butt with one of my crops. It goes on: they turn me over, twisting my arms, the big dildo is up me as my cock and individual balls are separately twisted into a twining that gave me an erection for them to abuse. Jonathan's arse pumped it mercilessly at one stage but they made sure I did not cum. I sort of fade off again when Bill lifts my legs and doubles me over forcing his cock up me without taking the vibrator out. I am speeding, chained, gagged, whipped, cocka hoop fucked for the amusement of a couple of punks. There is no way any jizt got out of my twined gonads but I came all the same. They go early morning leaving my arms chained to the bedhead. Before he goes Bill slides my phone's handpiece up in my arse.
I eventually work it out. I have to use my feet to get it to my mouth, my tongue to dial. Judge's fucking bitch is telling me he cannot be disturbed, I am hoarse. You can imagine how embarrassing it all is. I might leave it at as a good night in except they stole my best sex toys and leather gear. I want revenge.
More to come, comments welcome! Mike Lynch