By Ken Leigh

(International Leatherman.January-February.1997)

I called Serge soon after discovering I was to be in the The City for the weekend. We had not seen each other in some time, and he suggested we meet for dinner. Afterward, he would have some en­tertainment for his “slaveboy.” His voice became deeper over the phone: “I will send you instructions as to what to bring so that you can change at my place. Also, there will be reading for you to dis­cuss with me to put you in the right frame of mind.” As I hung up the phone, I wondered just what I had gotten myself into this time.

I carefully packed what Serge had required: a pair of tight, torn jeans; a chain and leather harness I had purchased from Mr. S; leather biker jacket; boots. I had asked about a T-shirt, and was told I would not need it. I cringed when he said, “It would just be torn off anyway.” My readings dealt with different phases of servitude, sto­ries of being taken by a Master and trained, and many passages from Preston’s Mr. Benson which I think I had memorized. All I could think about on the flight out was that it was going to be an intense evening.

Dinner was wonderful, as we ate in one of The City’s celebrated restaurants. On the drive back to his place, Serge started to ask questions about what I had read, how I felt about being someone’s slaveboy, and being on display. He also asked if I had brought everything I was told. I quietly replied, “Yes, Sir. I know better than to disappoint.” He smiled and brushed his hand up my leg to the crotch.

“Good boy,” he said, squeezing my dick and balls. “You have at least remembered one of your lessons.” I rose up as far as I could in the seat and winced at the sudden pain. “A little sensitive tonight aren’t we? I’ll have to take care of that later.” As we approached the front door, I was reminded of our safe-words and signs. “Once we enter the house, you are my boy and will do as I command.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, and bowed my head in respect. Serge took my chin and lifted it to his eyes. “Behave yourself, and you will have a fantasy filled tonight; disobey, and it will be an experience you will not soon forget.” We went up the stairs to his living room where I was told to fix drinks and sit at his feet. The questioning continued about my reading, especially about passages from Mr. Benson, and if I had any health problems. After a while, I was told to get my bag of things for Serge’s inspection. He was pleased and told me to change in a corner of the room while he changed into his leathers.

Because of the tears, I brought a jock to wear under my jeans, and the black material showed through the faded, shredded denim. The chain on the harness was cold as I wrapped and snapped it around my chest. I hissed as the metal touched my back and heard Serge chuckle in the other room. Once on, I looked in the mirror. The leather and metal fit snugly and framed my hairy chest well. I was thankful for all that time in the gym. The jeans could not be any tighter and allow me to move and breathe, but they did frame my legs and butt well, in all immodesty. I was lost in my narcissism when I noticed Serge’s reflection in the mirror. I turned and fell to my knees.

He looked like a Tom of Finland icon. His leather jeans looked like molds as they outlined his thighs and butt — his dick made an impressive mound at his crotch. He was wearing a black T-shirt which somehow stretched over his chest and seemed to outline every muscle. He was wearing a jacket which was loosely zipped at the bottom. A whip hung at his side as did a pair of shiny handcuffs. On his lapel was a pair of evil-looking tit clamps. I dared to look up into his eyes as I touched his leg. “You look wonderful, Sir. Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?” He smiled, looked at his feet and turned them.

“My boots are dusty. Take this cloth, clean them and give them a good bath with your slave-tongue.” I hurriedly crawled over to get the flannel cloth then gently started to clean the Dehners. I folded the cloth over and started to shine them after licking them with my tongue. A sheen appeared, and I crawled back, the sign I was fin­ished. “Good boy, you remember how to please your Master.” After a pause, Serge said, “Stand up, let me see you.” I stood straight, looked Serge in the eyes, and bowed my head. As I did this, Serge was sitting and motioned me to turn around. “You’ve been keeping in shape. Come here.” I walked over to his chair. “What’s this fab­ric?” He noticed the jock and fingered it through the ripped material. “Modesty never became you, but I guess this will be all right for now. Come, kneel beside me. I have something special for you to wear tonight. Close your eyes.” As I knelt and closed my eyes, I heard a clasp and then something cold and heavy on my neck. I heard the clasp again and a lock being put in place and sensed the weight. I was told to open my eyes, and I saw a thick leather collar with spikes in the mirror. The lock was in the back and a ring was in the front. “There is no doubt as to your position tonight, is there?”

“No, Sir, I am your boy, Sir.” I reached up with my hands to touch the points of the collar and was shocked to find out how sharp they were.

“Remember how sharp those points are. If you misbehave to­night, you’ll be wearing those points on the inside along with a couple of other surprises I might have.” The thought of that shocked me. “Yes, Sir, I’ll be good, Sir, I’ll make you proud.”

“Good. Put your hands behind your back.” After doing so, I felt cold metal on my wrists and the setting of the handcuffs. A leash was attached to the collar, and I felt it tug me closer to the chair. “Now that I have your attention, I’ll tell you what is planned for the evening. You are going to be taken to my club and introduced as my slave from out of town. You will do what I say when I say it. Chances are, I will have friends there too. So, you had better not embarrass me.” A tug of the leash almost caused me to lose my balance as I nodded my head. “Afterward, if you do well, we will go for a drink. It could be quite a festive evening for you and something about which you could tell your friends. Just remember your readings and place yourself in what you have read.” As he talked, I looked into the bottomless ice-blue pools of his eyes which were framed by his closely cut black beard and hair which seemed to have the begin­nings of some gray. A look of fiendish mischief flashed on his face before a serious scowl took over which scared me. I wondered if I had not gone too far this time. My apprehension must have been evident as Serge patted my head. “Remember your safeword and sign, but fall into the environment. I will always be within easy distance if you are indisposed.” We left for the club after he un­locked the handcuffs.

On Folsom Street after parking the car, I was led through a dark doorway and was met by a heavily muscled attendant. “Serge,” he said, “you have a new toy with you tonight. How do you keep finding the good ones? He will need to fill out some forms.”

After completing them, I was led to a check room and told to remove my jacket. I might as well have been told to strip; I felt that exposed. I tried to fold my arms over my chest as we walked into the next room, but Serge thrust both tongue and pelvis in me. I could already feel the precum, and he must have also as he felt my jock. “You are excited about all of this, aren’t you? Let me give you a little something to occupy your thoughts.” As he said this, he took the tit clamps from his lapel and somehow set both of them at the same time. I hit my head against the wall and hissed loudly as I tried to shake my torso, the wrong thing to do as the heavy chain pulled each nipple and the teeth seemed to dig in deeper. I regained my balance and slowly opened my eyes.

“Sir, please, please, take them off or lighten them.”

“You know what to say, boy,” was his reply. I bit my lip; I was not giving in this early in the evening and winced as he played with the chain. “You need training. It looks as if you have been screwing off.” He dropped the chain which pulled my nipples downward. The force of the drop caused me to shut my eyes hard, but they were opened by a tug of the leash as we walked into another room.

I could not believe my eyes and ears. Guys in various stages of undress were huddled around others in what could only be called an out-of-control orgy. A tall, slender guy beside me was having his dick and balls serviced by two other men who were on their knees and playing with themselves. Another pair of guys was worshipping his nipples and somehow, a fifth guy was Frenching him as he ran his hands through his blond hair. All were moaning with increased intensity. As Serge started to lead me away, there was a short, sharp cry from a guy being serviced, and it appeared several were cumming at the same time. I was fixated by the scene as Serge pulled hard on my leash.

“Get over here,” he said with notice­able displeasure, “You’ll get yours soon enough.” My dick was leaking precum again into the soggy jock. I was motioned to get on my knees in front of Serge. After doing so, I looked up. “Show your Master how happy you are.” As he said this, my face was dragged to his crotch. Since my hands were cuffed, I had to use my nose to feel his lengthening cock and balls. Once I found the tip, I took my tongue and outlined it back up to his crotch. “Take the zipper with your teeth and open it.” I straightened up so that my teeth could find the clasp. After several tries, I was able to start the zipper’s descent. Once open, I thrust my nose into the musky crotch and tenderly bounced his balls on my tongue. An audible sigh, even in this room, was my sign I was doing well. Serge widened his stance and released his cock and balls from his jeans. They were an artist’s perfection.

Someone immediately knelt down beside me and started toward Serge. However, he was brushed aside as I quickly took my prize. My tongue made its way under the foreskin and started a circular motion around the head. My head’s grip tightened briefly, but Serge’s hands then fell on my shoulders. I looked up briefly and saw his face. I must have pleased him by the look of contentment. I released the cock and began to tongue both balls at one time. As I inched closer, I managed to get both orbs into my mouth and gently pulled on the ballsac. Serge got on the tips of his toes as I played with them in my mouth.

“Where did you learn that boy?” he asked. While in my mouth, I gently rolled one over the other with my tongue, and my nose teased the base of his cock. I popped one and then the other out of my mouth and stepped back for air. Serge took my head and brushed back the hair from my eyes. “You are surprising your Mas­ter tonight. We might have to have a special talk later to find out who has been teaching you!” He must have needed a moment to regain his composure as he pulled me close and massaged my shoulders. He fondled his dick and balls briefly and pulled them; a gentle jerk of the leash told me ‘to get up from the floor. The movement brought my attention back to my tits which swung with the move­ment of the heavy metal chain connecting the clamps. My quick hissing sound did nothing to create any sympathy from Serge. He just led me out of the room and down an even more dimly lit hall.

At the end of the hall, we stopped, and Serge had me face the wall to release the handcuffs. I did not realize how stretched my arms and chest were, but the relief was short-lived as I was turned around and my arms pulled above my head and attached to some­thing. The movement created new waves of pain in my tits as the chain moved. Serge stood closely and motioned with his feet for me to spread my legs. As I did this, the clamps were removed. The rush of blood caused me to try to bring my arms down and draw my legs to my chest as I hissed loudly. Instead, my legs were caught by Serge’s, and I tried to wrap them around his body. At the same time, he thrust his tongue into my mouth as he started to punch his crotch into mine, and my legs tried to crawl farther up toward his waist. I heard his zipper and then felt his cock enter into the ripped crotch of my jeans. His hands were push­ing me even farther against the wall, and his breath was growing shorter and shorter as he pulled one swollen nipple then the other with his teeth. My precum-soaked jock must have felt good — once his cock found the area, he started to thrust viciously be­tween my legs. I continued to suck his tongue further inside me. He suddenly with­drew the tongue and started to bite a line down my neck and shoulder as the piston-like thrusts started again and grew faster and harder. I was hanging by my arms while my legs were fully spread around his waist and feet crossed for support.

I heard a sharp gasp for air and felt teeth where my shoulder and arm joined. I felt wetness on the hairs between my legs and on my jock as Serge came. Serge’s arms enveloped me for support as I started to convulse and shoot my load. The intensity of the release was heightened by Serge’s fon­dling of my poor swollen tits. Breathless, I finally came back to reality, and my legs slid back to the floor as my lifeless body hung by its arms, and I tried to stand. Serge stuffed his still-bloated, stiff cock into his jeans and zipped them. He then took my head into one hand and brushed away the damp hair from my eyes.

“We can be such animals. This place brings out the raw animal in most everyone.” He gently kissed my forehead, nose and lips as I came back to life.

“I am going away for a minute. Behave yourself and don’t at­tract any attention.” A cocky smile came over his lips as he slapped the side of my ass.

“Please, Sir, don’t leave me alone; you said you would not leave me.” I began to shake and uselessly tried to pull my arms from their prison.

“Relax,” he responded. “Nothing will happen to you here. Just behave yourself.” He rubbed the sides of my ass, turned and walked away.

As soon as he left, someone come toward me. The man was a giant, at least from my viewpoint. He was a 6-foot-6 bodybuilder. The dim light caught the oiled curves of his upper arms and wash­board features of his stomach. He was wearing just a shiny leather thong which left nothing to the imagination as it obscenely outlined his oversized cock and balls. He stopped in front of me, and his finger outlined my face. I tried to bow my head and turn away, but his paws grabbed my head and held it. “Please, Sir, my Master placed me here to be alone. I don’t want to get into trouble, Sir, please don’t touch me.” As I was saying this, the man gently massaged my nipple; his other hand gently outlined my lips which started to reach for the fingers to suck them.

“That’s right, little boy, suck them gently — show Daddy how you miss him.” Another finger was placed in my mouth as I closed my eyes and started to pick up the sucking action as his other hand massaged my chest. I knew it was wrong, but I continued.

I opened my eyes to see another man walking toward me. He was wearing just a body harness and a chain jock which was shin­ing even in the dim hall. Both items seemed to be stretched as much as possible to cover his hairy, developed body. “What do we have here? A public toy?” I came to my senses and tried to spit out the fingers to talk.

“Please, please leave. My Master will be back soon. He … he told me to behave myself and be quiet. I … I’m supposed to be alone.” As I was trying to talk, I was also trying to turn away from them, but it was useless. The hairy leather-strapped man reached down to spread my legs and attached them to something on the floor. I could feel cool air rush between my damp crotch, and the scent of cum seemed to fill the air.

The muscleman noticed the odor: “You haven’t been too good a slave, have you? You’ve cum. I bet your Master didn’t even permit you, did he?” Before I could answer, a piece of duct tape came from nowhere and was wrapped across my mouth. I moaned and tried to swing away, but had little movement. The muscleman grabbed me by the hair and said, “Your Master said to be quiet; we’re just trying to help.” The both laughed while their hands kneaded my torso as if it were bread dough. I then started to shake my head and shout through the tape.

“No, no, please don’t, please, please …” My words turned into low moans as both men began to suck and nibble my tits and massage my ass, cock and balls. What movement I had, began to change as I tried to meet their actions, and my dick hardened and tried to get out of its cloth jail. The hairy guy came up to my face.

“This public piece likes attention; let’s give him plenty.” With those words, he fell to his knees, undid my jeans and pulled them and the jock as far down as they could go. My dick popped out of its soaked cage and into his mouth as he began to deep throat me roughly. As he did this, he used his fingers to find my ass and began to massage the moist opening. Gently he inserted one, two and then three fingers. I tried to escape but only ended up flailing around wildly.

“Please, please don’t fist me, Sir. I’ll be good, please,” I begged. As this was going on, the muscleman was straddling the man on his knees and pulling my chest toward him. He slowly licked up from my belly button to my right nipple. At that point he bit the nipple and twisted it gently while his hand worked the other. I was getting into the program and was theirs. I hung by my arms as these two did what they wanted. My breathing started to grow in short spurts, and I felt fingers rubbing my prostate and a mouth trying to suck my foreskin. I opened my eyes to see Serge with his arms crossed and whip in hand. I was too wasted to say anything as the hairy guy withdrew his mouth and started to jack me off with both hands, and the muscleman attacked my chest with his mouth and hands. My body arched as much as it could, and my seed flew across the hall.

I began to swing as much as possible from the wall as rope after rope of cum poured from what felt like my feet. After the sixth or seventh spurt, I collapsed against the wall.I felt like I had run a marathon, I was so out of breath. Serge shouted, “You slut slave, you’ll do it anytime, anywhere, for any­one!” Before I knew what was happening, the two men disappeared. The tape was ripped from my face as I babbled and started to cry. “Please Sir, I … I tried to stop them, honest. It … it wasn’t my fault.” I hung my head and quietly sobbed since I knew what was going to happen. One thing I dared never do was to disobey Serge. He released my ankles, and I quickly brought my sticky, cum-streaked legs together to try to hide my hard cock. He then released my arms, and I fell into a heap on the floor and cowered in the corner. My collar was yanked up, and I scrambled to stand, even with my jeans and jock hobbling any movement. I was told to take them off and face the wall. My body was tightly spread-eagled against the wall, and my collar attached to something so that I could not move my head. Serge pressed himself against me as I could feel his warm leather-clad body against my exposed back. His bearded face brushed against mine as he spoke: “You have disappointed me, boy. I was where I could see you.”

“But Sir, I tried, tried to stop them, but they went on. I was gagged to keep from speaking, Sirrr … please believe me.”

“I believe what I saw. You enjoyed it too much. Now you have to be punished and remember once more whose you are. I’m getting tired of this, you worthless piece of trash. When will it ever end?”

A defeated “Yes, Sir” was all I could mumble.

I felt Serge leave me, and a cold chill ran through me. Then I heard a snap. The next sound was a “swoosh,” and Serge’s sharpest whip landed across my back. I froze in pain as the flogger left my body, only to return with greater force. My body splayed against the wall in a vain attempt to dull the flogger’s force. I bit my lower lip until it was numb and finally cried out: “Sir, please Sir, I tried to be good … I tried to obey you, Sir!” The whip moved to my ass and upper legs, and I tried to widen my stance even and swing in one direction or the other to miss the flogger. However, it was use­less. I finally tilted my head back as far as I could and cried, “Sir, I am yours, only yours, Sir. Your are my Master.” My arms went limp as I collapsed in the chains and sobbed.

Serge released the leg restraints and held me carefully as the arm restraints were removed. I fell onto the floor. He gathered me up and held me close. Soon, he gently nibbled my ear and whispered, “My boy, what am I ever going to do with you?” He took ice from a cup and brushed it against my red, welt-covered back. The cool block felt good. He then took a towel, wiped off my back, and handed it to me to finish. “Get dressed, boy. You’ve had a long night.” As he said this, he held me tight and kissed me gently. He truly was my Master, tonight and always.

We made our way through the maze of hallways and picked up our things. At the door, we stopped to make sure of the direction. I turned to see the two men who used me in the club. They came to Serge, shook hands and laughed. Serge turned to me. “These are two good friends of mine who were in on my plans for you this evening.” They shook hands with me and introduced themselves. “Do you feel like a drink? You’ve earned it, boy.” With that, the four of us turned to go to the bar across the street. Serge was right; the night was a fantasy I would not soon forget.

Fiction by David W. Richards

In Touch For Men (1987?)

Brad had watched the construction crew building a new house across the street all summer. By August, his in­fatuation with a dark, Italian-looking construc­tion worker had grown into an obsession. Every possible moment was spent watching the man; his mind creating every imaginable situation, but never daring to put his thoughts into action.

By Labor Day, the house was nearly done. Only two men remained on the site to complete the job: the dark haired, muscular one and an older guy. On this final day, Brad had taken a seat under a tree near the new house from where he could watch everything in the building. The two men were doing more drink­ing than working, and by noon the older man was gone.

The dark haired man stepped outside and walked toward the line of trees where Brad sat. Unaware of Brad s presence, the man unzipped his pants and pulled his meaty cock free, spraying a golden stream against the tree. From where Brad sat he saw almost eight inches of fat, juicy meat, crowned by a velvet head the size of a baby’s fist.

He suddenly craved to feel that fat cock in his mouth, to suck the man s juices from his bull nuts. His mind whirled feverishly, conjur­ing all sorts of situations. Suddenly he had it all pictured, choreographed …

“Hey, mister … ?” he called.

The man looked over his shoulder, his green eyes burning holes through Brad’s tight cut offs. “What can I do for you. son?’ he asked. “Need something?”

“Yeah, I need a job.”

“Lots of people do,” the man grinned. “How can I help you?”

“My friend Steve told me to talk to you about a special job. Said only you would know what it was.”

The man stared at Brad, evaluating him. Even at eighteen. Brad had a man s physique: broad shoulders, hard pecs, mus­cular arms and legs. And the full basket be­tween his thighs bulged invitingly.

“Well, if Steve told you to talk to me about a job. I might have something for you,” the worker grinned. “Come on inside and let’s see if we can come up with something. By the way, name’s Tony,” he said, extending his hand.

Brad followed Tony into the house, to a room with covered windows.

“All right, let’s get this straight,” Tony said. “You need a job and Steve sent you here?”

“Yes, sir, that’s right,” Brad replied.

“Let s see now, which one is Steve?”

“Steve’s the star fullback on our high school team, sir. He’s about 6’2” and weighs 200 pounds of solid muscle.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember him. He did a real good job for me … real good. So, what kind of work are you looking for? I might be able to use you for a couple of things.”

“Well, what about the same job that Steve did for you? It sounded like something I could do.”

“Remind me what it was Steve did. I’m not sure I remember,” Tony said with a grin.

Brad blushed and said. “Uh… I think it was called blow jobbing … or something like that.”

“Yeah, now I remember, that’s right. Steve was a blow job trainee, a blow jobber. Right, and that kid had a lot of talent.” Tony said, smiling

“So do you think you could give me a try out?” asked Brad, rubbing his bulging crotch.

“That depends.” replied Tony. “How much experience have you got?”

“Experience? Well, none, really. I just learned about this job yesterday.”

“Good!” Tony chuckled. “I like to train my own blow jobbers my way. Of course, this is a very exclusive organization. Not just any man gets to join, understand?”

Brad nodded again, shaking his curly hair vigorously.

“I think you’ve got all the physical qualifica­tions for the job,” Tony said quietly, his big hands stroking the smooth, tanned skin of Brad’s arms and chest. Brad’s body shook beneath his touch, “But like I say — not every man can be a blow jobber. Many men fail the on the job training. If you fail, I suggest you don’t tell a soul. Save yourself the humiliation.” he said, staring hard into Brad’s cool blue eyes.

“I won’t fail,” Brad said determinedly.

“Good. Then let’s get started. Take off your clothes,” Tony ordered.

“What?” Brad asked wide eyed.

“I said this is a very exclusive organization. The local chapter requires that all training, and the job itself, be done bare ass. Of course, if you’d rather not …”

“No! It’s all right,” Brad stopped him. “I was just a little surprised.”

Tony knelt on the floor to remove Brad’s tennis shoes. Then his hands were on the boys pants, unsnapping and unzipping the cut offs. Tony inhaled the thick, musky sweatiness of the boy’s crotch as the pants slid down. Brad had on only his bikini briefs. Tony made certain they soon disappeared.

He pulled the small briefs down over the boy’s muscular ass and powerful legs. Tony sat back and whistled appreciatively. “Jeezus, that’s one of the most beautiful cocks I’ve ever seen,” he breathed, staring at the youthful four inch dick hanging softly be­tween Brad’s hairy thighs. “I knew you were perfect for this job!”

As he talked, Tony’s hands roamed over Brad’s body, down his chest, across his sensi­tive belly, through the tangled blonde hairs. Finally they converged on his cock and balls, hefting the meaty organ toward his face, one hand cupping the boy’s bloated balls.

Brad’s eyes grew wide as he saw Tony’s tongue snake out, licking across the velvet head. Blood surged from every part of his body to fill his hardening cock, driving it be­tween Tony’s sweet lips until it jutted straight out. Seven inches of hard rock cock pulsed in Tony’s grasp. Tony gave the fat head a satis­fied suck, then released the cock and stood up.

“Now it’s your turn, Brad. The training goes on.”

Brad stared at the man, uncomprehending.

“You have to undress me now,” Tony ex­plained. Seeing the boy’s hesitation, he placed Brad’s hands on his chest. “Start with my shirt.”

Brad’s hands shook with excitement as the buttons came loose one by one, baring the thickly matted jungle of hair covering the hard muscles. He dropped the shirt on the floor and moved quickly to Tony’s buckle. The man already had kicked his boots off. As the zipper separated, the tight Levis clung to his tight ass cheeks. Brad tugged the pants down … Tony was naked beneath them, seven inches of juicy man meat just inches from his face. It was a cock perfectly designed for Tony. Just as the man was stocky and well muscled, so was his cock.

“Now that were both naked,” Tony said, kneeling on the floor with Brad, “it’s time to continue your training. Lay down on your side, facing me,” he directed, doing the same thing but in the opposite direction. “This next stage is called sixty-nine, and it’s vitally im­portant that you get this correct. Follow every­thing I do, understand?”

Brad nodded silently, unable to take his eyes or hands from the strong man’s massive cock and balls. Tony took the boy’s prick in both hands, slowly stroking its full length, from the hairy base to the ultra-sensitive head. He watched Brad follow his direction, and together they milked each other’s cock into full erection.

Then Tony used his rough tongue to lick the hard poker he held, sticking it in Brad’s piss hole. The boy’s body shook in reaction, shiv­ering in delight at these new feelings. But he remembered to follow Tony’s lead. He tenta­tively tasted Tony’s cock, finding it surpris­ingly inoffensive. In fact, he delighted in the taste, and smell and the feel of it!

Tony abandoned the cock head for a mo­ment, sliding his tongue down the throbbing shaft, wetting the boy’s dick. And Brad fol­lowed suit, driven to actions he’d never done before. Now Tony’s mouth was hovering over Brad’s cock head, only this time he didn’t simply lick it … he engulfed it in his mouth!

“Holy shit!” Brad cried, bucking his hips into Tony’s face. “Fuck, man, suck my cock!”

Brad tried to stuff more of his prick into the man’s throat but Tony pulled off. “Hey, Tony, don’t stop!” Brad begged. “It feels so fucking good!”

Tony nodded in agreement. “And you’re supposed to be following everything I do,” he reminded Brad. This is part of your blow job­ber training, so let’s see you blow a tune on my flute!”

The boy eagerly dove down on Tony’s massive cock head, stretching his mouth wide to suck it all in. He exulted in feeling the velvet skin slide over his lips and tongue, smelling the sweatiness of Tony’s crotch where his nose was buried. Tony continued sucking deeply on Brad’s cock, massaging his balls. Within minutes, he could tell the boy was about to cum. He felt Brad’s prick distend to new proportions, felt the big balls lift in their hairy sack … then felt the force of the boy cumming as that hot dick exploded down his sucking throat. Brad bucked harshly against him, keeping Tony’s own hard meat imbed­ded down his throat. Brad promised himself he would take all of the man’s cum … no matter how much there was.

And there was plenty! Tony’s cock head exploded in a shower of jism, filling the boy’s mouth and throat. Brad sucked quickly, ea­gerly, tasting the richness of it. Too soon the man was spent, lying heavily against Brad. Brad licked tenderly across the quivering mass of meat, so recently spitting inside his throat.

They lay together for a few minutes, then Tony stirred and began to get up.

“That was real good, kid. You’ve got a real talent for sucking cock. But I can’t decide if you’re qualified for the job after just one try out. And this time you have to get me off alone.”

Tony got to his feet, standing in front of Brad, his thick dick swaying slowly back and forth, soft but still heavy with blood from the good cocksucking it had just had.

The man pointed at his dick and said, “Let’s see you go to work on that and get it ready for another good blow job.”

Brad felt his own cock begin to stir again — at eighteen it only took him a minute or two to be ready for more action — but he wondered if he would be able to get the older man hard again. He’d have to go by instinct since he’d never sucked cock before the last few minutes. But he knew he wanted to please Tony, so he got to his knees and grasped the man’s large, round balls in one hand while he took hold of the meaty sex organ in the other.

Brad looked at the heavy balls in his hand and felt a strong wish to lick and suck them, which he did. Tony groaned with pleasure. “That’s right kid, suck my balls!” he moaned as he twisted his hips back and forth in ecstasy.

Brad sucked Tony’s cock into his mouth and used his freed hand to grasp the muscu­lar construction worker’s round, firm ass cheeks with it. He’d never felt anything so ex­citing before he thought, as he continued to caress Tony’s ass.

With all this attention, it was not too long before Tony’s dick began to stiffen as hot blood surged into it.

As Brad looked up at Tony, he realized that Tony’s nipples had stiffened up also and were standing out like pencil erasers. The boy in­stinctively reached up and began to twist one and then the other of the two pleasure but­tons. Tony loved it!

And so did Brad! He was off in another world, one of pure pleasure and excitement. As he sucked Tony’s prick, his own was up and waving. He felt thrills of pleasure surge up and down his body and he knew that he would soon be shooting another load, even though he hadn’t touched himself.

Just as he felt he could hold off no longer, the husky man he was working on began to groan and thrust his dick deep into Brad’s throat. The kid strained to take it all the way to the balls — and just as he succeeded, he and Tony shot off at the same time.

As Brad sank down on his heels, he looked up at Tony and whispered, “I love you,” nuzzl­ing his hairy friend …

“What’d you say, kid?”

The hard, demanding voice dragged Brad back into reality. He looked up into angry, staring eyes. “What the fuck did you say, per­vert?” the man demanded. What are you doing out here — watching me piss so you can beat off?”

Brad looked down, wide eyed. His hard, drooling cock throbbed openly from his unzipped pants. “No … wait, umm … I can expla —”

“Explain hell,” the man growled, grabbing Brad by the hair and forcing his head against the rough tree. “You just like to watch people piss, don’t you? Huh? You like piss?”

The construction worker shoved Brad back further until his face was turned up.” Here you go, then, buddy. Get an eye full of this,” as he stepped forward and slapped the boy across the face with his meaty cock. “Then you can have a mouthful of this!”

Holding Brad’s head with one hand and his cock with his other, the worker grunted hard — and then a stream of warm, golden piss struck Brad full in the face, running down his heaving chest. When he was done, the man swore at the boy, zipped up his pants and staggered drunkenly toward the house. He didn’t even see the steaming puddles of white hot cum splattered on Brad’s naked belly.

“Strip.”

I ripped off my clothes, obeying the one word com­mand without question. I had a pretty nice body, but I felt inadequate and weak before my superior. My cock was rock hard and drooling I couldn’t help it. Just looking at that guy gave me a raging boner.

He grabbed me by the waist and effortlessly placed me on a bench in front of the lockers. I realized as I kneeled there across the bench that I was about to get fucked.

“You want this up your ass, don’t you, bitch?” said the young god as he ripped open a condom and unrolled it over his throbbing pole.

“More than anything,” I replied, and it was the truth.

By Troy M. Grant

(Honcho.July.2007.)

Attending a big university just about drove me out of my mind. It wasn’t the classes that bothered me it was all those hot college guys. At first I thought I’d gone to stud muffin heaven. I was surround­ed by cute, well built young men. Everywhere I looked there was young, firm, stud flesh. I quickly discovered it was more like hell. It was rather like floating on the ocean in a little rowboat, surrounded by water, dying of thirst, but unable to drink. I was in sexual agony. My nuts ached constantly and my cock was hard so often I thought I was going to have to buy bigger jeans.

I never thought I’d resort to such a thing, but I’d heard about the opportunities for sucking cock in restrooms. It had never appealed to me before, but if it meant I could get my hands on some of the young studs around me, I was willing to try.

I knew just the location to set up shop. There was a restroom that connected with the locker room in the uni­versity gym. It was only accessible through the locker room so there wouldn’t be much walk by traffic. I always used that particular rest room whenever I could. It gave me an excuse to walk through the locker room and dream about all the hot, young athletes that stripped naked there every single day. Now and then, I even got to see one of them. It fueled my overpowering desire to suck cock. I figured the best time to try for some dick would be during the evenings when all the various teams had their practices. That meant guys from the basketball, gymnastics and wrestling teams. I wanted to be there when I had a good chance at some dick, but not when it was too crowded.

Early one evening when my cock was throbbing so hard it hurt, I scribbled a note on the wall just above the urinals. It was simple and direct, “Clean, discreet guy will suck your cock during practice in the last stall.”

As I took up my position I was so nervous I was actu­ally shaking. I sat there and waited as the minutes passed. I wondered if what I was trying was such a bright idea. I was just about ready to give it up when a young man walked into the restroom. After taking a leak and washing his hands, he came into the stall next to mine and sat down. I thought that was pretty promising.

I watched as his nylon basketball shorts dropped and bunched up around his ankles. I didn’t say a word until I heard the unmistakable sounds of him beating his meat. The sound aroused me to such a fever pitch that I threw all caution to the wind.

“Let me take care of that for you,” I said quietly. I was nervous and shaking. My heart was pounding in my chest I grew more nervous still as the guy in the next stall pulled up his shorts, walked out of his stall and pushed open the door to mine. My fear completely dis­solved as I looked at him. Fuck he was hot! The sweaty young jock that stood before me must have been 6’3” or better. He was wearing a basketball uniform and it made his well muscled body look oh so sexy and tempting. He was pretty good looking, too. I wanted to kiss those sweet lips of his, but I knew that wasn’t what he was after. He probably wasn’t even interested in guys, only in getting his rocks off. I was more than happy to oblige.

He had one big fucking bulge in his shorts. I just knew he was packing a huge piece of meat. As I looked at his crotch, his cock flexed, pressing hard against his nylon shorts. I reached out and pulled down his shorts. He was wearing a jock strap underneath. It made him look so fucking hot I thought I was going to cream my boxers right then and there. His dark pubes  escaped out the sides and I could catch a tanta­lizing glimpse of his dick through the mesh of his jock.

I pulled his jock down and his massive boner bounced to free­dom. I wrapped my lips around his throbbing meat and proceed­ed to give him my best blowjob. Every blowjob was my best, really. I rarely got to suck cock and when I did, I really went at it.

His pre-cum was sweet and sticky. The little moans that escaped from his lips got me hotter than ever. His cock swelled up to a good eight inches and I massaged the entire length, from head to base, with my lips and tongue. His balls were plump and filled with cream. I just knew he had one big load for me. He only lasted about a minute or so before he leaned back and shot a big fucking load into my mouth. His jock-juice was almost as sweet as his pre-cum. I sucked it right down and didn’t stop sucking until he pulled his cock from my lips.

My young stud thanked me and asked if I’d be sticking around. He said he would subtly put the word out that I was available. He sure did too! I came back the very next day and hadn’t been in my stall for more than two minutes when someone knocked on it. I blew six differ­ent guys that day! All of them were college jocks. I was in heaven.

My best, but most frightening experience came a few days later. I walked into the locker room on the way to my post. As always, the scent of the locker room filled my head with visions of beautiful, muscular young men. I was more than half hard just thinking about all the college jock dick I’d soon be sucking.

There was only one guy in the locker room and he was fucking hot! I stole glances at him as I neared. I recognized him as one of the guys from the wrestling team. Even if I hadn’t, the wrestling uniform he was wearing made it pretty obvious. He was so handsome he looked like a model or something. His light brown hair and dreamy brown eyes made me weak in the knees. He was the kind of guy that was so beautiful his body didn’t matter at all, but what a body he had!

He was built! Fucking built! A mere glance at his chest made me want to be his slave. He had muscles bulging everywhere. I’d have done about anything to suck a guy like that. As I passed he reached out and grabbed me roughly by the shoulder. I just about freaked out.

“You’re the fag who sucks cock, right?”

I was terrified. The fact that he called me “fag” filled me with fear that he was a basher. With his incredible body, he could sure do some serious bashing. I just knew I was about to get my ass kicked. I would have bolted if he didn’t have such a firm grip on my shoulder.

“They say you’re real good.”

“Umm, yeah.” I said. “I’m damned good.”

He eyed me like he’d rather beat me senseless than look at me. I was certain he was deciding whether to kick my ass or have me blow him. He moved his hand and I involuntarily flinched. He gave me a smug look that reeked of superiority and contempt.

“Let me suck you,” I said. “I’ll give you the best fuck­ing blowjob you’ve ever had.”

I didn’t wait for a response, but dropped to my knees. I figured the sooner I wrapped my lips around his dick the more likely he’d let me blow him instead of kicking my ass. I found myself staring up at the most gorgeous young stud on campus For some reason his cocky, bad ass attitude totally turned me on. Even my fear fueled my arousal.

“Suck me, bitch!” he said. “And you’d better do a damn good job of it.”

That’s what I wanted to hear. My cock throbbed in my boxers. The gorgeous, young wrestler pulled off his uni­form and his jock. I slid his throbbing boner into my mouth and sucked cock as if my life depended on it.

I was all over his pole. I couldn’t believe I was suck­ing off such an incredible stud. His body was magnifi­cent. He made the other guys I’d sucked look like girls. He had a superior attitude, but fuck, he WAS superior! I belonged on my knees in front of him. I was glad to serve him; to be his bitch. His dick was ample reward for anything.

I totally got off on sucking his cock. The fact that it was attached to such an incredible body never left my thoughts for a moment. I looked up at him as I sucked on his pole. His chest was magnificent. I bet he could bench a huge amount of weight. His abs drove me insane with lust. Each row of abdominal muscle was perfectly defined and powerful. I knew I could punch him as hard as I could in the stomach and he’d never feel it. I wanted to lick all over his abs, but I knew he’d probably beat me senseless if I tried.

“You bet I would, bitch,” he said, glaring down at me. Somehow, he knew what I was thinking! I sucked his cock right down to the base. His dick seemed as muscular as the rest of him. I bet he could have lifted weights with it! I sucked and slurped on his pole, fearing every moment that he’d just belt me for the fun of it. One of the guys from the gymnastics team walked in while I was sucking dick, but he didn’t say a word. He knew better. He just went right on like he had­n’t seen a thing.

I went to work on my wrestling stud’s nuts. It was a trade secret of mine. I pulled each nut into my mouth and massaged it with my lips and tongue He moaned. I knew how good that felt. It was a trick I’d learned some time before. I worshipped his heavy balls for a few moments more, then went back to work on his pole.

I was sucking and slurping away when I was roughly jerked to my feet. I was eye to eye with that beautiful jock and I was shaking in my shoes.

“Strip.”

I ripped off my clothes, obeying the one word com­mand without question. I had a pretty nice body, but I felt inadequate and weak before my superior. My cock was rock hard and drooling I couldn’t help it. Just looking at that guy gave me a raging boner.

He grabbed me by the waist and effortlessly placed me on a bench in front of the lockers. I realized as I kneeled there across the bench that I was about to get fucked.

“You want this up your ass, don’t you, bitch?” said the young god as he ripped open a condom and unrolled it over his throbbing pole.

“More than anything,” I replied, and it was the truth.

He walked around behind me and I felt his hard, throbbing cock pressed against my asshole. With one quick thrust he penetrated me. I yelped.

“Shut the fuck up! You know you like it, bitch!” The truth was, I did like it, especially from him. I just wasn’t quite ready for it. He pushed his dick right up my ass, burying it to the hilt. He pulled it nearly free, and then pounded it in once again. There was no working into it. No going easy. He just fucked me good and hard from the start.

“Yeah, you have a nice tight ass, bitch.” His dick was doing incredible things to my insides. One thing was for sure: he knew how to fuck. He pushed buttons I didn’t even know I had. I bet he’d fucked every girl on campus and now he was fucking me!

He had barely started when I blew my load. Getting fucked by that incredible wrestling stud was just more than I could handle. My cock was caught between my abs and the bench and I spewed hot cum all over the place. I came harder than I ever had before. It was like fucking and getting fucked.

I stayed hard as I got my ass fucked. No one had ever used me like that before. No one had fucked me so hard. The grunts and groans issuing from that hunk’s lips were about enough to make me cum again. He used me as his bitch and I loved every second of it.

He fucked me harder and I could feel his cock expand­ing inside me. I knew he was getting close. He said, “Here it comes, bitch. I’m gonna cum up your tight little ass!”

With that he blew his load within me. I thought I could feel his hot cum spewing into the condom. Spurt after spurt of his spunk spewed from his dick, filling my ass. He kept cumming and cumming and never stopped fuck­ing. He pumped me full, and then pulled his cock from my ass. I just stayed where I was. I hadn’t the energy to move.

“You are a good little bitch,” he said. “I’ll be seeing ya again for sure.”

He dressed and left. When I was able, I dressed too. I never made it to my restroom stall that day. I’d had more than enough already. I went back to my dorm room and reveled in what I’d experienced. I knew it would be days before I could walk right, but I’d sure be walking to my rest room stall the very next day. Despite everything, I was still desperate for dick.

“I’ve noticed you in the shop before” he said, “and if I’m not wrong,

you’re not always just checking out the meat on the counter. Right?” My mouth was get­ting fucked by a German sausage and I couldn’t answer.”

By Geoff Ready

(Honcho.April.1984.)

“Don’t forget to bring home the bacon!”

I was backing my Toyota pickup out of the driveway and my wife was reminding me for the third time that morning that I had to stop by the market on my way home. Her shrill reminder echoed through the neighborhood as she stood on the porch in her flowered bathrobe and yelled at me as I drove off.

Her father stood beside her, his fat stomach barely contained in a dirty T-shirt, and his belt buckle lost in the folds of his bulging belly. “And a case of beer, too!” he added.

I was having enough trouble coping with being gay and married and living in a small redneck town without the addi­tion of having an unemployed — and unemployable — father-in-law coming to roost. My wife’s habit of standing on the porch and screeching orders and grocery lists at me every morning when I left for work was bad enough when we lived alone. For the past month, Jack’s been doing it too, like an echoing shadow of his bitch daughter.

Feeling rather uninspired by the pro­spect of bacon and eggs for dinner in the middle of winter, I turned onto Highway 97 and drove south through the juniper and sagebrush towards Bend. Last night’s snow had left an inch of powder that flew off in clouds as I drove along. My only consolation from the grating send off I had gotten was that the new kid would be working with my fence crew to­day, and if he was wearing the same Levis he wore yesterday, when he applied for the job. I’d have a hell of a basket to stare at until the day was over.

The horns were already growing in my crotch. I drove the fifteen miles to the ranch with my hand massaging the hot hard on between my legs. Besides my wife, besides her old man, besides being gay in a redneck desert town, it was doubly frustrating when a hot man was put to work beside me on the job. Check­ing and mending fences in this cattle country is usually a two man job, and when you’re stuck for a long day out in the sagebrush with a hunky stud, your balls — and mind — are aching by nightfall. The anticipation of having him on my crew was driving me crazy with desire that I knew couldn’t be relieved except by hand.

Just to relieve my frustrations, I’m jacking off three, four, five times a day nowadays. In the shower after work, in the john at night, in the john in the morn­ing, maybe in the sagebrush at work during the day, sometimes in the truck on the way to or from the ranch. Pumping the anger out of myself by shooting my load whenever and wherever I can — but it isn’t working. I know I’m going to have to make a change, fast. I haven’t had regular sex with a buddy since high school, and that was ten years ago. The kid that was using me as his regular pun­ching bag back then was a senior in school when I was a sophomore. We us­ed to head into the sagebrush every fuck­ing chance we got and he’d have my legs over his shoulders even before my dick got hard. Then he’d ram the biggest dick in the school into my butt and wouldn’t pull off me until he’d given it to me maybe three times. He went to Viet Nam, after graduation, and one of the best looking men I’ve ever beheld is still there. The only chance I have to make it with a guy nowadays is when I get to Portland on ranch business and spend a night at the Majestic Baths.

Maybe Redmond has ten percent gays, like the books say, but they hide in pretty big closets. There’s nobody here that I know of. There’s a small “rap group” of young kids, down in Bend, but they’re pretty political about their rights and not my cup of tea. Redmond still has painful memories of a lesbian couple who came through the area about twenty years ago. They wanted to be alone together, but one of them had two little kids, so they threw the kids off the Crooked River Canyon Bridge, a drop of about 27 stories. One of the dykes got out of prison a few years ago and the other gets out this year. And two years ago, a 17 year old kid who had been let­ting an older guy suck his cock for two years decided he wanted to go straight and get married, so he killed the guy — decided he’d rather be a murderer than gay, I guess, so he put six bullets in the older man’s head while they were parked out in the juniper trees where they’d gone for a Saturday afternoon blowjob. The kid got 20 years and I’ll bet he’s get­ting more than blowjobs nowadays — he’s a hot looking criminal.

Those are the things people in this town think of when they think of “gay.” Gay means homosexual, queer, pansy, faggot … it’s like the Fifties in Red­mond, the men are cowboys or truck drivers. And even if the highway rest stop is pretty popular with both groups, that’s not my idea of relief.

Getting married right out of high school was my way of proving I was like everyone else. Patty and I had more sex in the back seat of my Chevy while we were in school than we’ve had since we got married. After we had been married for about a year, Patty turned frigid, just like her mama. No doubt it had something to do with the old lady’s harp­ing upon the “ways” of men. She couldn’t stand them, and she taught Pat­ty the same reservations. Patty’s old lady finally went completely crazy, and drop­ped her husband on our doorstep, then took off for California. That’s why pot­bellied Jack is living with us.

Something has to break, something has to give.

The day went as I expected. The weather never got much above freezing and the snow started up in late after­noon, so we called it quits about three o’clock. Hank, the new guy, did wear yesterday’s pants, and I did get my share of looks at his fucking crotch whenever his head was turned. If he wears shorts — I’ll eat ‘em! Nobody could show a cock like that unless they were constantly hard. It rides across the front of his thigh like a saddle horn, like the knob on my gearshift, like a Budweiser long bottle. If the kid in the Soloflex ads and Robert Redford ever got married and had kids, Hank is what they’d look like. By the time we called it quits and got in my truck to head back to the main house, I had a case of blue balls that didn’t come from the freezing temperature. I was aching bad and couldn’t wait to get in my truck and jack off a load of cum all over the floorboards on my ride back to Red­mond.

But as fate would have it, Hank need­ed a ride there too, so I gave him a lift. We rode the distance without saying too much. I dropped him at the L-Rancho where he lives, and I headed to the market. My aching cock and balls would have to wait for home.

I packed my groceries from the Prairie Market into the back of the truck and limped a half block to Bob’s Central Oregon Meats. I’m usually glad to oblige when it comes to stopping at Bob’s; he’s a hunk like you wouldn’t believe! It’s his body, his imagined cock that comes into my mind when I’m blowing my load in the shower. His shop is a specialty market where the beef would make CC Slaughter sit up and smile in his grave. Dropping by to snitch a few glances at Bob’s crotch always gets me ready to get home and head for the shower.

Bob is probably in his late twenties. He has black hair parted in the middle, that just touches his collar. Black moustache, a full chest, huge, tight biceps. Always wears Levis and boots. His Levis are so bleached out that they’re almost white — especially in the crotch, where a full, solid piece of meat is more than evident across the front of his thigh. I’m sure that I’m not the only customer, male or female, who goes out of their way to buy meat here just to look at him.

This afternoon I noticed to my dismay that mirrors had been put up behind the meat display counter. Instead of being able to look into the cutting room where Bob and his hunky helpers do their but­chering, there was a sign pointing to a buzzer to push if you need help.

It was near closing time and much of the meat had already been picked over or removed to the coolers for the night. I had to ring for service.

The mirrored partition slid back im­mediately and Bob stood just a couple of feet in front of me, above a display of chops and ribs. He must have been standing there when I reached for the button, he was so quick. I forced myself to keep my eyes above crotch level as I said I couldn’t find any bacon. His eyes didn’t seem as careful as mine; while he ex­plained to me that they were cutting up tomorrow’s supply, his eyes slowly and (at least I thought!) deliberately cruised down and came to rest on my own crotch.

Then he refocused his eyes on mine and motioned to the door at the end of the counter.

“Step on back here and we’ll get you fixed up.”

I moved down the counter and stepped in just as another guy went out the back door to the truck dock. I couldn’t see a face, but his ass flashed like a strobe light in skin tight Levis. As the door swung shut behind him I wondered if his front side was as hot as his backside.

I was surprised to find you could see out into the public portion of the market — the new mirrors didn’t reflect back here. Last minute shoppers stood at the meat counter, their attention focused on the packaged meats. One or two occasionally glanced up at themselves in the mirror and brushed back their hair.

Bob stood at a large butcher block table covered with sausages. It caught me off guard to notice that he had one hand cupping his balls. I tried not to stare, but it was difficult. I looked, instead, at his array of meat on the block. He was packaging tomorrow’s specials; there were different kinds of sausages including the common small breakfast sausages and a variety he told me were German sausage, beer sausage, blood sausage, Dutch, Scandinavian, and even some South American pepper sausage. As he picked up each one to explain it to me, he held it almost in front of his crotch. I couldn’t help noticing that the outline of his cock was definitely getting larger with each sausage — and instead of wiping his hands on a towel when he needed to, he slowly wiped them across the front of his Levis, across the bulging outline of his cock. It was driving me crazy.

“Well, give your wife a little surprise,” Bob was saying. “I think she’ll really go for one of these, and after she tries out something new, she won’t settle for bacon and eggs anymore.”

He was holding a thick German sausage, about ten inches long. I might be a small town boy, but the resemblance to a cock wasn’t lost on me. He held it in one hand while he stroked it with the other. I couldn’t do better in the shower! The nearness of Bob and the way he was handling the sausage, added to the outline of cock in his pants, made my own problem worse. I was getting harder than a rock and I knew it was evident.

“Take a taste,” he said. “Great either raw or fried.”

Things happened fast from that point on. He slipped the sausage through his hand and held it up to my mouth, offer­ing. As he did so, he stepped up beside me. I reached for the sausage but he took my wrist and held the sausage against my lips. His other hand moved to my waist and rested in the small of my back. He was moving the sausage against my lips and I opened my mouth and he slipped it in about an inch. Before I bit down, he slipped it slowly out. then in again.

Bob’s hand slid from my back to my ass as he slipped the sausage to me. His hand cupped the cheeks of my ass and ran down the length of the crack. His fingertips stopped at the bottom and he slowly pushed his finger in. His body was now up against my own, pressing me against the butcher block.

“I think you’ll like this.” he said. “It’s my specialty.”

If I were upstate in a steam bath, I’d have known how to react. In Redmond, Oregon, he caught me off guard.

“I’ve noticed you in the shop before,” he said, “and if I’m not wrong, you’re not always just checking out the meat on the counter. Right?”

My mouth was getting fucked by a German sausage and I couldn’t answer. But I think he got the answer when his hand moved from my ass to my crotch and he closed his fist around my hard on.

“I’ve got something you’ll like even better than the sausage.” he said.

His hand moved to his crotch and un­buttoned his pants. They slipped down on his hips and his cock sprang forth, thick and long, hard as steel. A large red head, its tip glistening with a drop of ex­pectancy, filled his hand. He stroked it slowly.

I was frozen to the spot. He took my shoulder and pressured me down.

“You’ve checked it out enough times, now you’ll try the real thing.” he said. “Suck it, baby … and use plenty of spit because I’m going to give it to you in the ass.”

“Jeeeesus!” I blurted. I turned my head to escape the cock. I wanted it, but not this way!

“I said suck it.” he repeated, both hands on my shoulders. I was on my knees now, his cock brushing my mouth.

“We can’t!” I said.

“Why not?”

“The windows,” I said, indicating the people just a few feet away from us.

“One way glass — they can’t see us.”

“What about your helper? What if he comes back?”

“He won’t. He’s gone for a pickup. Suck me.”

I was torn between my desire for his cock, and the years of shit I’ve gone through in this redneck town.

He put his hand on the back of my head and closed the gap. The head of his cock brushed my lips again and he thrust his hips forward. My mouth open­ed and he slipped it all the way in until it filled my throat. My eyes watered. He held the back of my head and moved his hips back and forth, fucking my mouth in long, slow strokes.

“That’s it, stud. Suck your daddy’s cock. Give him a good job. Suck it good, baby, suck it good.”

He moaned and his clasp on my head tightened. Each new thrust was sending his cock deeper into my mouth, farther down my throat as I began to relax and enjoy it. I moved my hands to his legs and pulled him even deeper into me.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. Just relax and enjoy it. Get it good and wet, baby, because I’m going to shove it into your asshole, fucker.”

Just when I thought he was getting ready to blow off a big load of cum. he pulled out and raised me to a standing position. He turned me to the block and reached around and unbuttoned my Levis. He slipped them to my ankles and took my swollen hard on in his hand. Again he bent me over the block, with my face just inches from the sausages. He stepped closer and his cock slipped into the crack of my ass. He guided it expert­ly to just where he wanted it, and then the head poked at my asshole.

With both hands on my hips, he gave a single hard forward thrust and I felt his cock slip into my ass. When his hand reached around to grab my cock I was ready to shoot my load into his hand. He must have felt my dick begin to throb, because he leaned back and pulled me with him, pointing the head of my dick up onto the sausages.

“Shoot, baby, shoot,” he said. “Shoot your fucking hot load all over it, baby. Get those things good and wet with your thick cum because you’re going to take them up the asshole, too.”

I shot a load bigger than I’ve ever dreamed of! His fist pumped my cock and pointed it directly onto the German sausage that I’d sampled earlier. My load shot about two feet — thick, hot, white cum made large puddles all over the fucking table and almost covered the huge sausage. He started pounding harder and deeper into my asshole as he saw my juice covering the table. As the last few shots of my cum spurted onto the meat, he gasped loudly and shoved his cock deeper. His hands moved quick­ly up under my shirt and his fingers squeezed my tits until I moaned in pain. I felt his cock throbbing in my ass and I knew I was getting his load. Just at that moment the back door opened.

“Oh. shit!’ I gasped, trying to pull away again.

“Cool it, baby, we’re not done yet,” he said, pulling me backwards against his cock as he began thrusting again, harder than before.

“Let go. Your helper’s back, for chrissake!”

“He’s not my helper. He’s my buddy. Get back down there and start eating some sausage.”

He bent me down onto the block again. My face brushed the sausage and I felt warm cum all over my cheek. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the bot­tom half of his friend approaching the block. As he approached our humping figures, he started unbuttoning his pants. I stared at the outline of cock against his thigh: huge, thick, long, in pants so tight you could even see the rim of the circumcised head.

Jesus, I thought. There couldn’t be two cocks that big in all of Deschutes Coun­try!

It was Hank’s cock — Hank — my helper!

As Bob began a new series of deep thrusts into my asshole, Hank, without a word, pulled my head towards his crotch and held his cock to my lips.

“Suck him, baby,” Bob ordered. “Suck him good. He’s been telling me since yesterday how fucking hot he was to get you into the sack.’

I opened my mouth and swallowed Hank’s cock. His hands held my head and his hips thrust in concert with Bob’s hips as he fucked my butt.

Within moments, the three of us shot our loads at the same time. When Hank’s cock started shooting its load down my throat, his hands got rougher on my head, pulling my mouth farther and farther down his shaft, filling my throat with his hot cum.

I heard the door open again.

“Oh, God.” I thought.

I couldn’t speak because my mouth was full of Hank’s cock. I couldn’t pull away because Bob’s cock was shoved up my ass.

“This one’s my helper,” Bob said.

As I sucked, Bob slowly pulled his cock out of my ass. Now I could see the same guy walking towards us that I’d seen leaving the room when I first arriv­ed — I had been right. His front side was as good as his backside. And he was unbut­toning his Levis as he came towards me, an almost sadistic smile on his face.

Bob stepped back and gave way to his helper. As Hank started shooting another load of cum down my throat, I felt new hands grasp my hips and a new cock brush my ass. I was well lubricated now, and he slipped in easily. Without seeing what he had, I could feel that it was much bigger and longer than Bob’s — and Bob’s was more than ample!

He fucked my butthole with a fury that neither Bob nor Hank had shown. I couldn’t believe the ferocity and speed of his fucking. In less than a minute he was shooting his load into my ass with a passion that brought him bending down over my back and once again my tits felt like they were being twisted off.

For a moment or two, nobody moved. Then I felt the kid pulling out of my ass. Hank relaxed his hold on my head and slipped his cock out of my mouth. He pulled me to a standing position and planted his hands on my shoulders. He looked at me and broke into a big, wide smile. I returned it in kind.

Everybody was pretty well spent — especially me. As we rebuttoned our pants and rearranged our clothing, Bob picked up the sausage that I’d shot cum all over. He tossed it to his helper and told him to wrap it up.

“I’ve been checking you out ever since you’ve been coming in here.” he said. “I’ve always thought we could have a good time. Hope we didn’t go too far?”

“A little unexpected, but I needed it bad.” I said. ‘And I wanted it”

“I think I know what you need once in a while,” Bob said. “Come on back anytime. We’ve always got something back here that we don’t put out on the counters.”

He handed me the sausage, now wrap­ped in brown butcher paper.

“I think your wife will find this as satisfying as bacon.” he said. Tell her we’re out of bacon till tomorrow.”

“Well. I’ll be back tomorrow. I guess,” I said.

Hank grabbed another lift with me and I’m going to drive him to the job tomor­row morning. He asked if I’d drop by a lit­tle earlier than necessary — just in case he wasn’t awake on time. I said it was a deal.

I drove home through snow that was now coming down pretty hard. The sausage and Jack’s beer were beside me on the seat. As I puiled into the drive Patty and Jack came out of the house and stood on the porch. Before I was even out of the truck I heard her whin­ing, shrill voice.

“I suppose you forgot to stop at the butcher’s,” she was saying. ‘If you did, you’ll just have to go right back.”

“And did you remember the beer, son?” yelled Jack. He hadn’t even shav­ed all day.

I smiled a full, open grin. I felt wonder­ful.

“Nope. I didn’t forget. But instead of bacon, I got something you’ll like even more.”

They both loved it. Jack even ate three helpings. And they’re going to use some for sandwiches tomorrow. So I told them I’d stop and get some more on the way home and we could make spaghetti with it. They’re all excited.

I even tried a couple of bites myself and it wasn’t bad at all. Tomorrow I think I’ll have a couple of servings — one at the market, and another when I get home!

By James Anselm

(Honcho.April.1984.)


After he took a drug to enlarge his penis, Dan began having strange side effects. True, his dick grew to eleven inches; but he also developed a braying laugh, and he ran incessantly across the countryside. One day he even awoke with grass in his mouth.

—-

Dan awoke, as usual, with an erection. He reached over to the night stand and. taking the measuring tape, placed its end against his groin, rolling the tape out to the tip of his cock, as he had done virtually every day since he had answered the ad. To his dismay, the result was still the same as it had been all his adult life — exactly five and a half inches.

He stroked himself gently as he recalled the ad. Dan’s eye had been caught by the bold heading: “NOW — you can be hung like a horse!” He had raced through the rest of the copy: “a limited number of people … penis enlargement … frankly experimental … call Dr. Philip Jones … “

Dan had neatly torn the ad out of the paper and put it in his pocket to think about, although by the time he got off the train he knew that if there was any way for him to get in on the experiment, he was going to do it. He knew he would do anything that might improve his chances of getting into bed with Steve.

Steve, blond and built, was everything Dan had wanted in a man since that day back in high school when he had first admitted to himself that he was gay. He loved Steve desperately, but Steve wasn’t having any. He knew that the one and only time he had been in Steve’s arms — when they were both pretty drunk after an office party. Steve had groped him pretty thoroughly. He felt that Steve had been secretly laughing at the size of his hard on, even though it was fully erect and throbbing with desire.

Except for that, Dan thought of himself as a pretty desirable guy. He was good looking, and he knew it; if he was on the slim side, he had turned that into an asset, spending a good portion of his pay on the latest fashions, and establishing himself as a snappy dresser. But Dan had wanted, for as long as he could remember, to increase his sexual dimensions. He had tried vacuum pumps and stretch belts, and had only wound up sore; creams were expensive and equally useless.

Yet the more his common sense had told him of the impossibility of realizing his fantasy, the more his desire had increased. And so he had gone to Dr. Jones, a pleasant fellow who had been up front about the experiment Dan was going to take part in, although the doctor had never really said what the drugs involved in the program were. He had openly admitted that they might not work, and had warned Dan to be on the lookout for side effects.

So Dan had taken them every morning and evening as directed. For two weeks, there had been no result at all, although he had anxiously measured his stiff dick every morning. During the third week, he started to get discouraged, and skipped the measuring several times; it was only at the end of that week that Dan became aware of how good he was feeling.

This morning, he was feeling good, too, and drawing closer to climax as he played with himself contentedly. It must have been the unaccustomed tingling sensation that made him decide to measure himself again. It’s crazy, he thought, but what the hell. He blinked twice at the tape before his mind registered the increase — only a little more than an eighth of an inch, but it was there! He resumed his masturbation with renewed excitement, and came a few moments later. He went to work happier that day than he had been in months.

With extraordinary resolution, he managed not to measure himself for another week after that. Those seven days produced not only a further quarter inch increase, but an odd no-tion. Walking past a sporting goods store near the office, Dan felt impelled to go in and buy a sweat suit and jogging shoes — for some reason he could not explain, he wanted to run. The next morning, after taking his tablets, he went out and ran for half an hour before showering and dressing for work.

The fifth week of the experiment found Dan in ecstasy as he finally reached an erect length of six inches. He could now consider himself “average,” and who knew how much more he might expect? He was now jogging every day, and really feeling good about himself, and about his body, which he thought somehow looked better than it ever had previously, lean and sleek.

It was during the sixth week, the day — for the incredible growth had actually accelerated after the first period — that Dan’s cock touched the seven inch mark on the tape measure, that he got the idea in his head about the “running compulsion.”

He had trouble buttoning a favorite shirt — it had never been tight before — and went into the bathroom, stepping onto the scale for the first time in several months. He had gained fifteen pounds! It had never occurred to him to put the tape measure around his waist, but he did so now. No difference … then his chest … no wonder the shirt wouldn’t fit! It wasn’t just a crazy idea that his body was looking better; his chest and shoulders were broader now than they had been when he started taking the drugs.

Dan enjoyed squeezing into the shirt — Steve would be sure to notice — but when the other idea hit him, he called Dr. Jones’ office, and made an appointment for lunchtime. The doctor hedged about telling him exactly what was in the formula, muttering something about herbs and animal extracts, but gave in when Dan blurted out: “Why am I running like this, like a horse, then? I never even ran for a bus before, and now I’m out doing it every day.”

The doctor countered with a list of megavitamins, to explain Dan’s excess energy. “But with all this running, I should be losing weight,” Dan protested, “and instead I’m gaining.” At this, the doctor admitted the use of steroids in the formula, and explained how they caused an increase in muscle bulk. Finally he asked if Dan was nervous, and did he want to stop the experiment.

Faced with the fact itself, Dan had to admit that he didn’t know what he wanted to do; he said he would try it for a while longer, conceding that he couldn’t say whether any of his reactions were due to side effects or a genuine personality change. A very definite look of interest from Steve later that day decided him. He had heard that Steve had a thick nine incher, and now that he had gotten this far he wasn’t going to let anything deter him until he had a chance of matching it.

He no longer jerked off in bed, but in front of the mirror, admiring his body and his cock as they continued to improve. When he expanded his chest, he took great satisfaction in the swelling curve of his developing pectoral muscles; his arms had grown stronger, and his legs as well. He didn’t think he’d ever be Mr. America material, but it was more of a turn on than his old body had been. Then the tingling would start in his lower stomach, working its way down to the tip of his penis; shortly after, his dick would be hard, with its new length and thickness a never failing thrill.

When doubts about the experiment filled his mind — like how he had never seen anyone else connected with it — he would crowd them out of his head by standing before the mirror and conjuring up Steve’s image. He kept telling himself that he wasn’t crazy, but his strong desire for Steve, still unsatisfied, along with the concern about Dr. Jones’ mysterious formula, were starting to get on his nerves. One Saturday, he threw some things into an overnight bag and drove off to the country. He stopped a few times to take some pictures; at one stop, almost before he knew what he was doing, he found himself running along the road, first with easy, loping steps, then faster. As he ran, he tried not to think of horses, but thought instead of Steve, growing hard as he did so. The harder he grew, the faster he wanted to run.

And run he did, with the weight of his cock chafing against his jockstrap, his erection distending the fabric of his pants, his balls bouncing as his feet alternated on the country road. His mounting arousal seemed to Dan to be part of the whole act of running as his chest rose and fell, taking in deep breaths of the fresh air.

He ran on and on, forcing himself to keep his hands in front of him, away from the hard on that screamed for release from its confining garments. Finally, he saw that he was coming back to the car. Before he had even reached it, he pulled off his shirt, letting the air cool the sweat from his bare chest, feeling the breeze play on his thickened nipples.

He fell to the ground behind the auto, where he could not be seen, pulled out his cock and started to beat off. His pleasure climbing higher with each stroke, Dan lay in the grass making inarticulate sounds of pleasure as he neared his plateau. As his balls began to tighten and swell, he released his manhood, knowing that no further stimulation was needed. His hands clawed the ground as he climaxed, throwing sperm high into the air and almost passing out.

It was several moments before he felt enough like himself to get up. He was surprised to find that in his passion he had apparently stuffed a handful of grass into his mouth; but that was nothing to the amazement when he looked at his watch, and realized that he had been running full tilt for three hours.

He arrived at the motel he had chosen from the AAA book shaken to the depths of his being, almost ready to turn around and go home, to call the doctor and get off the drug before it was too late. Yet a little while later, after showering to get the dirt of the road off, his resolution melted away again as he achieved a rock hard erection of nine inches.

Dan’s whole body seemed to tingle as he walked around the room naked, watching the swing of his cock as it swayed between his legs. Sometimes he would let it relax, and it would dangle against his thigh, softer but still large and ready. Then he would brush it lightly with his fingers, and it would engorge and thicken, stiffening until it pointed straight at the ceiling. It turned out, after all, to be the proudest day of his life.

After a restful weekend, free from other events he went back to town and made arrangements with Dr. Jones to discontinue the treatment. Dan had gotten what he wanted from it, the improvement in his physique was becoming more and more obvious, and he was certain that Steve was now showing a genuine interest in him.

It was not until three weeks after Dan stopped the drug that the changes finally slowed to a halt. He was thirty five pounds heavier than he had been when he first went to see Dr. Jones, and his erection had peaked at an astounding eleven and a half inches. It turned Dan on just to look at it, how it aimed itself right at the sky despite its considerable weight and thickness. He still couldn’t match Steve’s build, but what did that matter when he more than surpassed his endowment?

When Steve invited him to stop up for a drink after work, Dan had to stifle an urge to crow. Steve threw his jacket and tie on a chair, opening several buttons on his shirt as he went into the kitchen. Dan set his briefcase down on a chair and took off his suitcoat — slowly; now that he was here, he meant to enjoy it.

Steve came back with two beers, and looked him straight in the eye. Neither spoke; although Dan wanted to, he thought he would let Steve make the first move. Steve put the bottles down, then reached over and traced the bulge of muscle in Dan’s shirt. Dan felt his nipples growing larger, but stood stock still, willing himself not to get aroused too soon.

Finally Steve reached over and loosened his tie, then unbuttoned the whole front of his shirt; with an appreciative whistle, he stepped back and finished taking off his own shirt. Steve then put his arms around Dan, drawing the two of them together: the sensation of flesh on flesh ended his calm, As Steve’s hands moved over his buttocks, Dan could control his cock no longer. Steve’s fingers slipped into the waistband of Dan’s slacks, around his sides, and Dan’s erection surged up to meet them, rigid and full.

Steve opened his belt buckle. As his pants slid from his hips to the floor, Dan felt an excitement he had only dreamed about in the past. Steve’s eyes grew wide as he stepped out of the slacks, and he threw his head back and laughed, a high bray of merriment. His triumph was complete, and he was going to ride the muscular body in front of him.

Then Steve was on his knees, taking Dan’s dick into his mouth. His entire body rippled with pleasure as Steve’s tongue rolled around his swollen organ. Now that the act was actually happening to him, the floodgates of Dan’s long suppressed passion burst out of control: his heart beat doubled, his breathing came in ragged gasps, and he climaxed before he could even try to pull back.

If Steve was disappointed by Dan’s quick release, he showed no sign of it, but eagerly drew out his own cock. Everything Dan had heard about was true: it was thick and veiny, and crowned with an enormous head. Dan took it in his hand and guided it between his lips, feeling the heat of it. He sucked it off with all his accumulated desire, caressing the body he had wanted so badly; his own cock had become stiff again by the time Steve had filled his willing mouth with semen.

Now Steve took his cock in his hands, pulling it and twisting it; Dan clutched Steve’s hips with all his strength as he felt his erection thickening, pushing toward orgasm again. When it came, it was even better than the first time; gobs of cum shot from his manhood and spattered Steve’s chest and face.

They embraced, a long clinch, kissing and stroking each other. Then Steve took him by the hand, and led him to the bedroom; there he started to make love to him again, licking the sperm from his chest, tracing his long, smooth muscles with his fingers. Dan’s chest expanded under Steve’s touch, swelling until he thought the muscles must burst through the skin. His own hands were flowing over Steve’s broad back, reveling in the power beneath them, feeling the blood once again pump his penis to its extraordinary size.

Dan looked down now as though his eyes could deny what the tingling in his loins had already told him — with each new erection, his cock was getting larger still. Each climax was more violent than the one before, yet his appetite increased rather than diminished with each successive act. Pure animal lust welled up in him, unreasoning; beyond mere desire, it needed to be satisfied.

Steve, who hadn’t been able to achieve another erection yet, tried to push him off, but Dan was determined that he was going to fuck him without further delay. What started as playful wrestling slowly became a genuine struggle, yet Dan’s strength seemed to increase as the larger Steve tried harder and harder to control him. Finally, he got Steve in an armlock that kept him from moving; as he plunged his pulsing tool deeper and deeper into the other’s insides, Dan felt his mind giving way. This is it, he told himself as he sank into blackness, I’m going crazy.

When Steve had finished his story, the doctor nodded sympathetically. “You did right to bring him here,” he said. “We won’t keep him any longer than is absolutely necessary.”’ He looked down at the notes on his pad. “He was never violent again after the first time?”

“That I could deal with; I’m stronger than he is, although he never wanted to admit it. It was the carrots and the sugar cubes that really started to worry me; but I knew we were in trou-ble when he started expecting me to get on his back, and ride him around the apartment.”

”And the increasing delusions were not accompanied by disinterest in sex?’

“On the contrary, that got to be about the only thing he was interested in at all. His um, ah, organ is unusually large, and he could have one orgasm after another, like a teenager. I couldn’t keep up with him at all.”

“It’s really a good thing that you care for him, not to just walk away when his trouble gets bad; so many people, you know, panic at anything connected with mental illness.” The doctor looked at his pad again. “Was he taking anything that might account for the changes?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think he took any kind of drugs at all while he stayed with me. You know, it was just physical at first, but he’s a real sweet guy, and I’ve come to care for him very much; the whole thing has gotten to me more than I can tell you … that awful braying laugh …” He stopped speaking, and there were tears in his eyes.

The doctor came around the desk, and put a hand on Steve’s trembling shoulder. “Dan will be well taken care of here, and we’ll have him right before you know it. In the meantime, if you like, I’ll give you something that should make you sleep a little better. Take this and you’ll feel like a new man in a few days.”

“Thanks a lot, Doctor Jones.”