Date: Thu, 30 Jul 2009 13:02:12 EDT
From: Glaucon55@aol.com
Subject: Dean's List

Introduction: To those who have been waiting patiently for the next
installment of "The Boarding House" I send my apologies.  I completed a
significant portion of that story, but there is more to go.  My most recent
stories have been collaborations with correspondents who have kindly shared
with me their personal experiences and asked me to translate them into
stories.  I have often had a component of personal experience in my stories
in vignettes or scenes.  But beginning with The Boarding House, both the
concept and the first installment, I have been trying to merge long-time
experiences with my modest skills of imagination.  Thank you to those who
have helped me by providing their experiences, and I am always grateful for
your feedback shared with me over the years.  I must say that the quality
of writing on the internet has improved year by year and I am grateful to
other writers of adult fiction who have kept us entertained.  Often these
stories speak to our respective needs in ways that would otherwise not be
available.  I hope in some way I add to that effort.  I certainly admire
the good writers on the web, and consider myself still a learner.  Please
contact me at glaucon55@aol.com.

Glaucon55/"Doc"

Disclaimer:

If you are not yet 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials
of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This story is for
adults, and contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys
with older men.  This story is completely fiction, all descriptions and
names are also made up, and any similarities are truly just that, purely
similarities.  I do not engage in or condone sexual activity with underage
boys which is regulated by law.  These are fantasies for private sexual
enjoyment, not for emulation in real life.  All rights are reserved by the
author.

All of my stories are posted on
http://www.pridesites.com/omelissokomos/glaucon/.  A number of them are
posted on ASSGM.com. some on Nifty.  Glaucon55/"Doc"

The Dean's List
By Glaucon55
Begun March 6, 2009

Dean Fraser was just a regular guy.  Growing up in the Midwest, he was
exposed to the same repressive social conditions that constrained visible
sexual appetite and behavior, and just as predictable, he was exposed as a
result of that repressive world to some weird shit that was always just
beneath the surface.  For a straight construction worker, his sex life
seemed normal enough.  Like other young men in his late twenties he was
working to pay the bills, and earning enough to enjoy the bars on a Friday
night where the pussy was plenty.  With his blond good looks that gave him
a distinct advantage in the hunt, he was scoring enough to keep his pecker
sated.  Like most other men he was focused on getting laid as often as he
could.  His buddies on the various contract jobs would share stories about
fucking chicks, especially when a pretty girl walked by and tempted their
macho need to compete with one another.  Like his other straight buddies
from the job, Dean didn't think much about why pussy was so good.  Fuck, it
was just the way things were in his small part of the world.  Girls were
made for fucking and his dick craved fucking.  From the time he had his
first slut pussy at age fifteen, like Pavlov's dog, his cock twitched when
he saw a tight ass, big tits, and soft lips.  Every Friday night was a new
opportunity to go fishing for a snug cunt into which he could lodge his 8
inch prick with its fat, wide knob.  Those sticky folds would bathe his
glans with lubricant, and the firm young muscles would grip it hard as he
pistoned the rigid shaft in and out, driving himself and the girl he was
fucking to the huge explosion that would drain his fat, sweaty nuts and
relieve him of the pressure that distracted him from the day he last shot
his wad.  Dean Fraser was like most blue collar guys, driven by his thick
prick...his brain directed by the pressure of stored cum in his churning
balls.  He worked and looked the part of a macho construction worker,
casual and unaffected, handsome and in control, but his brain spent most of
its time feverishly thinking about the next snatch he was going to fuck and
with a desire to shoot his sticky spooge.  He often wore briefs just keep
his semi-rigid penis from rubbing against the soft cotton of his boxer
shorts, itching his whorish prick knob and making him drip pre-fuck lube.

But Dean also had a side line that would have made the guys from the job he
drank with go bug-eyed if they knew.  Like every American, he was part
entrepreneur and he had discovered a little known underground market for
straight men that his buddies would not have understood.  It was rare that
Dean mixed with the college crowd...but for a couple of months he was
banging a college girl he met in the bar where he and his buds scoped
chicks.  She wanted fuck lust with her fantasy of a construction worker,
and Dean was pleased to satisfy her wet cunt as much as he could.  One
night, she took him to a college mixer.  He was five, six years older that
the kids who were searching for their next lay at the party, and while he
felt like a fish out of water, he decided that the liquor and food was free
so he might as well enjoy it.  She introduced Dean to one of the baseball
players on the college team who was there with his cunt-for-the night.  The
kid played third base for a team going no-where, but he seemed like an okay
dude.  As they drank and made small talk, the player saw someone enter the
party he recognized and he made a snide, off-hand remark about faggots
below his breath to Dean.  Dean's pick-up pussy and the ball-player's date
had gone to the bathroom to powder whatever chicks need to powder, so he
had nothing better to do than shoot the shit with the wry jock. When the
dude made his off-hand comment about a "faggot" it caught Dean's attention
because it seemed to come out of the blue, and who the fuck was talking
about fags anyway?  So, despite the banality of male banter they had been
engaged in, for a moment, Dean began to focus.  Acting disinterested, he
casually turned to the boy and said, "Dude, what the fuck...who's a fag?"
The baseball player nodded his head in a direction across the room, and
then indicated as discreetly as he could the good-looking frat type who was
making small talk with a girl and her date.

"That dude in the rugby shirt, he's a faggot?" Dean asked, wondering why
any dude with half-way decent looks would be interested in other men.  And
yet, there was something persistent in Dean's inquiry, as if he needed to
know.

"How do you know?" Dean asked with a puzzled expression.  The guy looked
straight enough.  Was there a magic signal or indicator that you could
detect that let you know if a dude was queer?  That might come in handy,
just in case some friendly guy turned out to be staring at your ass.  He
focused on the baseball jock's analysis.

"Simple dude, the fag pays me to let him suck my toes."  When the boy said
this, he looked casually at Dean and made a wry, cynical smile as if
everyone with a lick of sense knew what he was talking about.

"What...what the fuck are you talking about dude?"  For a moment he
wondered about the baseball player...Dean was more puzzled then ever, and
he could not help himself from taking a quick peek down at the jock's feet,
looking at the long, thick toes in a pair of flip flops.

The nineteen year old laughed at Dean's confusion, and then explained that
a number of the jocks on campus had joined a web site where they earned
easy money from faggot types who wanted to sniff and suck their toes.  Most
of it was done on line, but the big money came from letting the scumbags
actually service their feet.  The boy across the room had met with the
baseball player two times during the semester.  He liked it when the third
baseman came back from practice with his leggings and sweat soaked socks
on...and let him use his teeth to unlace the cleats, and then let the
ballplayer wriggle his sock and legging cover toes and feet over his face.
"Shit, you shoulda seen him snarf my dogs...I'm size thirteen, long toes,
and he couldn't get enough of `em, sniffing, sucking, licking.  I don't get
it...I don't even like chicks' feet, but fuck, who's gonna turn down a
payday.  If people wanna chow down on my big boats, have at it...just pay
me...you dig?"  As he spoke, he flexed his long toes, curling them in the
flops and exposing the pale arch of his foot.

"No chick has dug my feet as much as that bitch...actually made me throw a
fuckin' bone the way he sucked my toes like he was sucking my dick...but
that's all the fag got...and he paid like a mother-fucker.  He'll act like
he doesn't know me from shit, but he's already made a date for next week,
after practice."  I keep my feet clean cause I don't like being a scum
bag...so it all works out."  The girls came back in a few minutes and so
the discussion ended, but Dean couldn't keep his eyes off the handsome
young man who was still working on the girl he began talking to when he
arrived at the party.  How could this guy, who seemed to be working the
chick hard enough to get a blow job or a fuck later, also want to submit to
another dude and get his rocks off sucking some guy's feet?  Dean was
shocked, but he was also curious.

For some reason what the baseball jock had told him made him throw a bone
as the boy described the handsome boy sucking his toes.  The dude told him
that he required the punk to keep his hands locked behind his back, and to
crawl to him on his knees and forearms.  He listened with rapt attention,
his eyes straying again and again down to the baseball player's size 13
feet in the flip-flops, his toes flicking and flexing as he described the
details. When he said the dude craved being out of control, and having to
submit to the baseball player's big body...it made a shiver run up Dean's
spine.  Fuck, there was something about losing control that was at the back
of his mind too. The ballplayer's big pale feet were muscular, with long
toes and a high meaty arch, a narrow but muscular heel.  Didn't all guys
have big feet?  And who the fuck, Dean thought would want to smell another
dude's feet much less suck on them?  But besides the loss of control, there
something else nagging Dean, and finally he had asked the key question.
"Dude, how much money do you make?"  The baseball player told him that
on-line it cost guys about $50-$100 for a session with a cam, but the in
person sessions could earn up to $200 or $300 bucks.  "Fuck..." Dean
whispered under his breath, staring across the room at the boy who seemed
so normal, so regular.  He flexed his own thick toes in his shoes and
socks, and wondered what a dude had to do at a "in person" session.  He
turned to the baseball player and asked.

"Shit, it's easy money dude.  You just sit back on a chair or couch, and
the faggot gets down on his hands and knees and crawls over to you.  I got
a rule, no touching above the ankles...but below, they can have at it.  So
usually they take off my shoes and socks, or flips depending on what they
want me to wear, sniffing my shoes and socks, or going straight down to get
it on with my feet.  I'm popular cause I have size 13 boats, and the fags
like big feet...think its related to the size of a dude's dick...and the
bigger the feet, the hotter the queer gets for `em.  That dude across the
room sucked my toes for an hour, and then jerked himself off.  He said he
would pay me another $100 bucks if I let him cum on my feet and then lick
it off, but I said `fuck no.' I didn't want any of his shit on me.  But I
know dudes who'll even let `em suck their cocks and shit, and charge up to
a $1,000 a session...but those are usually with older men who have the
cash."

Dean listened, mesmerized by dollar signs flashing through his head as he
absorbed the baseball player's words.  His prick was still hard from the
idea of some dude losing control of his masculinity and submitting to
another dude...but right now, all he could focus on was the idea of cool
cash that could help out a construction worker who was struggling during
the damn recession.  Fuck he had size twelve feet!  Christ, if he could set
a schedule to work it out, he could make some fast money on the side and
get the motor bike he'd wanted and put some cash aside for the rainy days
that seemed to be coming more often in the current economy.  He acted as
casual as he could, but asked the baseball player if he could get the url
for the web site where you could sign up, and the boy gave it to him.  By
that time the girls had returned, and later that night as he fucked his
date senseless, he was actually dreaming about his new bike, how soon he
could make the down-payment, and maybe just a bit of what it would be like
to have some dude crawling and helpless, desperate for a weird-ass sexual
craving and release.

But months later, it was Thursday night and Dean had an appointment.  After
signing up on the web site, and posting pictures of his feet, he soon had
two to three appointments a week that were earning him anywhere from $200
to $500.  He called his clients "The Dean's List" as a kind of joke, but
the important thing was that he was making money.  At first it was just his
feet.  After all, he was 6' 2" tall and almost 190 lbs.  When he flexed his
long, thick toes, the men who had purchased time with him in person had
expressions of helpless surrender.  Soon their tongues were wrapped around
his big toe, or laving between his other ones, and sniffing the faint scent
of his foot sweat.  Dean kept his feet pretty clean like the baseball dude,
mostly because he could not stand the idea of anyone licking dirty feet.
But fuck, he was a construction worker, wearing thick boots all day.  There
was just enough shoe odor, and foot sweat to keep his clients happy.  Then,
about five months into doing the gigs, a man had paid him an extra $300
bucks for allowing him to suck his cock.

Dean did not take this action lightly.  He had no interest in queers per
se, and homo-sex seemed strange and perverted to him.  But an experience
when he was sixteen had made him realize that sex was just sex, and there
was something about losing control that make his prick a bit harder
whenever he let himself go there.  He had an older cousin who was queer, a
dude named Kent.  He never asked his cousin how come he was queer, but Kent
would hang out with a couple of other friends who were also apparently
fags.  One night when he was hanging out at a party Kent had at Dean's
Uncle and Aunt's house, Kent and his friends were all drinking and getting
drunk when one of the guys produced a porn tape.  As they watched a
peroxide blond swallow what seemed like a foot long prick on some dude,
hard-ons developed around the room.  Dean was a cocky kid, and he said that
watching the chick work on the dude's prick made him feel like he could cum
over and over.  The other guys laughed at him, and like most sixteen year
old boys, he took offense that his masculinity had been challenged.  He
accused the others who were just two or three years older than him that
even if they were "too old" to cum, that he was man enough to shoot scum
anytime.  What he really meant, was that fags couldn't jizz like real men,
not like him.

The older boys' laughs turned into derisive comments, and then, his
cousin's queer friend suggested that they make him prove it.  Suddenly Dean
got hot under the collar, but warm with fear rather than anger or bravado;
for some reason the suggestion had made his prick start to harden.  In a
second the three older boys had jumped on him and were holding him down on
the couch; then they began pulling off his clothes. There's something about
forcibly stripping someone that is such a turn on.  The men laughed and
yelled at Dean various insults, as he sputtered, cursed and fought to
prevent them from removing his clothing.  But inevitably his pale, muscular
body and skin began to emerge, exposed as his clothes were shed over the
floor of the living room and the men's hands glided over each place they
exposed, gently rubbing, feeling, tickling and probing.

The men began to stroke and feel Dean's firm young body from head to toe.
30 fingers were stroking him, scratching over his abs, sliding over his
stiff teats, poking into his ears, tickling under his arms and into his
navel, and stroking his thick penis.  In the midst of these delicious
sensations, it made Dean flash back several years.  The incredible feeling
of the strong fingers probing his muscular form, tickling and caressing
him, made him recall the sexual excitement that he had as a young teen.
His brother's friend Steve used to jump on Dean alot when the two younger
boys were 11 and 12 and then they would wrestle around, grabbing and trying
to pin one another. Dean's younger brother Rob and Steve were both younger
than Dean, and so it was natural that they would gang up on him, a boy's
culture and right of passage.  Dean accepted it as stupid guy stuff; older
boys always had to defend their turf against younger punks.  It started out
as grab ass, and male bravado, and even if he threw a boner, for Dean it
was never sexual as much as a new experience of his body responding to
being touched and felt during the physical play.  But soon, it became more.

Steve stayed at Dean's house all the time when the boys were in middle
school, sleeping over almost every weekend. Dean would sleep in his
underwear and a t-shirt, and on one of those nights he woke to find Steve's
hand's thrust into the front of his briefs, gently stroking his thick five
inch boner.  He was groggy, but the moment he became conscious of the
sensation of a hand sliding over his pre-teen prick knob, thumbing the
sticky drool that had leaked from the wide piss lips, his legs stretched
out, his toes curled, and he tried to turn over onto his stomach in an
almost reflexive response to the maddening tickle.  Dean groaned low,
unable to keep completely quiet.  It took all his strength to keep from
groaning out loud, making him grit his teeth from the excruciating
sensation.  But Steve was strong for his age, and when he realized that
Dean was awake, he gripped the shaft under the bloated glans, and he sped
up the flicking of his thumb on Dean's throbbing erection.  Dean gritted
his teeth even more, and reached up over his head to grip the headboard, as
if to slide away from the boy's ministrations to his big boy weiner.  His
long teen toes curled tight, and he gasped from the amazing sensation of
the younger boys thumb grazing back and forth on his now captive crown.
Steve whispered to Dean, fearful that the older boy would make enough noise
to wake Rob.

"Shhhh Dean...I have you under my power dude...so just be quiet and take
it..."  The moment Steve uttered those words, it was if Dean was helpless.
He cock no longer belonged to him...Steve was in charge of it now, and as
the boy's thumb tortured his fat prick tip, he simply drove his head into
the pillow and surrendered to whatever the kid wanted to do.

Dean knew he should knock Steve's hand away...be it felt so amazing to have
someone else's hand on his teenage prick, and the intensity of the
sensation of Steve's thumb was something he had never felt before.  Even in
his stupor, he liked the feeling of being stretched out and someone else
working his always stiff prick.  Fuck...it felt so good to be out of
control...weird but really different and all he could do is surrender to
the relentless fingers of the younger boy.  They did not wake up Dean's
younger brother.  Instead Dean found his hips plunging into Steve's fist.
Once Steve realized that Dean would not stop him, he loosened his grip and
let the older boy's involuntary fucking instinct take over, and the rigid
boy prick, slick with his pre-fuck, forced its way in and out of Steve's
circled fingers, as if the younger boy had created an artificial pussy for
Dean to screw.  Dean gripped the headboard more firmly and lifted his ass
to drive his hips and prick into Steve's fist, and Dean drew up his strong
legs and planted his feet apart so he could thrust more completely.

"Oooooohhhhhhhh fuck...ooooooooh shit...aaaaaaagggghhhhhhh" Dean groaned as
low and quietly as he could, his eyes squeezed shut and his hips picking up
speed.  Steve just sat back and let the boy's prick get mauled and milked
as Dean fucked the younger teen's soft fist.  For his part, Dean allowed
his penis to be masturbated ruthlessly by the other boy.  Steve was
emboldened when Dean just drove his Pavlovian prick into the younger teens
milking fist, so he reached up with his free hand to grasp one of Dean's
erect tit nubs, and the added a sensation that made Dean thrust his head
back down onto the pillow even as he thrust his hips up into the
masturbating fingers, his big boy feet gripping the bed more firmly at the
same time. He arched his back towards Steve, and his bloated prick knob
expanded to a smooth, glassy, fat plum as it popped through the fingers,
then Dean helplessly spit out four or five long, thick spurts of boy spunk,
feeling like he was pissing in bed.

He whined with each ejaculation of his teenage spooge;
"aaaaaiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeee... Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh..."  Steve laughed quietly
behind him, and continued to thumb the wet glans, making Dean buck and
swing his head and face into his pillow in an attempt to get through the
unbearable sensation on his willing prick tip.  Dean hissed and continued
to whine softly into the pillow, allowing his penis to be controlled by his
brother's young friend.  For what seemed like minutes, Dean teased the post
cum prick knob of the older boy, but actually it was only about a minute or
two.  But during that time, Dean not only felt helplessly out of control,
his big boy body surrendered to the younger boy, but his penis had never
felt so intense and sensitive.  His masturbation had never produced such a
feeling, and even though he had cum, his prick remained hard as steel as
long as Steve played with it.

That was not the first time Steve had drained the older boy's nuts Dean
found out later.  But it was the first time Dean was aware of it, and had
awoken to the milking. Steve told Dean he had been masturbating him
regularly, but the boy had slept through the previous times, twisting and
turning in his sleep, but not aware of the ejaculations wrenched from his
body.  From this time on though, Dean woke, and allowed the younger
pre-teen boy to "do things to his body", but mostly just masturbate him
until he shot his scum and then work the over-sensitive glans.  Dean didn't
understand why, but he liked to feel helpless and have his big boy dick
teased and stroked into submission.  And Steve liked to make his friend's
older brother feel helpless, and force the boy to sort of fight like he
wanted to free himself---but never hard enough to stop the masturbation.

Dean's brother soon joined the games, and both the brothers surrendered
their penises to Steve's talented fist.  Steve would focus on masturbating
Dean's older brother Rob by exclusively palming his fat cock head.  The
younger brother would surrender immediately to this method, and Steve would
push up his t-shirt, pinch his nipples while Dean's brother would spread
his legs, and grind his ass into the bed, snapping his head back and forth
from the delicious sensation.  Rob was not shooting sperm yet, but his
boner would expand from Steve's relentless palming, and then pulse through
a long dry cum.  His brother could even be continuously milked to produce
more than one dry cum.  Dean was fascinated watching his brother surrender
to Steve, both because he could imagine what he looked like while the boy
milked him, and because Rob could be kept in a post cum polishing of his
knob until he arrived at another dry cum, as powerful as the first.  Dean
was mesmerized watching the bloated glans of his younger brother's prick
mauled and rubbed by Steve's soft fist, Even as he watched, his own boner
would throb and leak, on the edge of spontaneous ejaculation, biting his
lip and keeping a straight, deadpan expression while he desperately craved
the same surrender he was watching.

One night Steve brought a porn tape from his dad's "special drawer" and the
boys all watched it and played with each other by getting inside each
others sleeping bags and humping dick on dick and jerking each other. After
that night it felt kinda weird for the boys to get horny around each other
and it pretty much stopped for a long time.  Now as Dean was being
stretched out on the bed by his cousin and the other men, he recalled how
Steve would sometimes pull his hands over his head to grip the headboard as
if he was tied to it, and use his legs to trap Dean's legs apart, and then
masturbate Dean while the older boy felt and acted as if was helpless.  It
was fucking strange to be helpless, but the thought of being made to cum
and the wondrous feeling when it happened, recalled for Dean why he let
Steve do it over and over for quite a while that year so long ago.

Now Dean was helpless again.  He was hard when the men got him down on the
couch and pulled his arms and legs apart and held them. They laughed and
said they were going to make Dean cum and cum, and "not ever stop".  While
he fought them on principle, Dean thought it was just a big joke and did
not want to look afraid so he tried to keep his cool and not freak out.

Kent's friends Rob and Mike held Dean's arms and Kent held his legs.  Then
Kent pulled his briefs down below his big full balls.  The briefs were
soaked with Dean's copious precum, and the fat, bloated cock knob was
basted with the clear scum.  The three men stared in wonder at the lewd
sight, the teenage boy's helpless boner, throbbing and sticky with his teen
pre-fuck.  The sight really turned Rob on and he kept saying stuff about it
and telling Dean to make more for him; "comm'on dude, juice for us, show us
how fuck horny you are...ya jizz bag, prick hard slut."  Sometimes Rob
sounded like the dumb shits in bad porno films or even like the dirty fuck
talk of the construction workers' banter, and it made it hard for Dean to
concentrate because he kept thinking he was staring in a bad porn film
especially when one of the guys brought out a camera.  Dean looked down at
himself.  They had pulled off his briefs and he was only in a shirt and
socks.  His shirt was unbuttoned and pulled back to his shoulder blades, so
that his firm abdominals and deep navel, and curved pecs with their stiff
teats, were exposed to the men's fingers.  His legs were spread, but his
big feet were flexing, the loose socks, especially at the toes, flapping as
he struggled.

Rob started down to grasp the boy's 7" boner, and slid his palm over the
bloated glans, making Dean grunt and squeal from the sensation, and then
Rob's fist closed around the glans and twisted gently one way and then the
other, masturbating the sexy teen.  Dean bucked and ground his ass, his
eyes closed tight from the initial sensation, then opening to watch in
wonder has Rob's meaty fist milked him like Steve's had years earlier.  Rob
used Dean's own pre-cum to lubricate the boy's penis, and soon had stroked
him to the first helpless explosion of cum, spurting high above his body
and covering his chest and Rob's fist as the man tortured the fat glans
after the boy finished spunking.  Dean groaned and howled from the
sensation, but the men hunkered down and held his bucking body in check so
they could continue to toy with him.

A bottle of petroleum jelly appeared after the first cum, and the men each
dipped their fingers into it to jerk Dean with the Vaseline, taking turns
to achieve their goal. Rob really knew what he was doing, teasing the
helpless boy through the first ejaculation, making him crazy from the way
his fist worked him like a fine instrument.  The teenage Dean was all
response and no control; his body was not his in this situation, and Rob
knew how to make him surrender.  It seemed like it took forever for Dean to
cum but he finally shot again 20 minutes later, to Mike's lubricated
fist. Dean has stopped fighting and wasn't even watching the porn on the
television in the bedroom.  Instead, he watched as Mike was working his
teenage erection, jacking him, making him submit.  It was weird and
fascinating at the same time, seeing another fist working over his big boy
boner, teasing it ruthlessly and making him respond with fits of jerking
and bucking, but unable to stop it.  Dean could see that Mike was erect and
hard in his sweatpants, and Dean could see that the older boy's dickhead
had produced a dark wet spot only a foot from his head.  Every time Dean's
dick throbbed as he was stroked he noticed Mike's did too, and it was this
strange connection that Dean started to feel for a couple of minutes before
he was about to cum.

Mike was doing a VERY amazing thing from the perspective of Dean's fevered
and sex horny brain, where he was holding the teen's arms down with his
legs and reaching down and over the boy's body, grabbing his dick at the
base with one hand and doing a twisting stroke over the fat plum of the
glans with the other.  Dean squealed and cursed from the demented stroke,
but Mike kept rolling his fist around the head, making the boy's toes point
helplessly and his socks begin to come off his feet from their repeated
twisting and jerking from the sensation. Once Mike realized he could elicit
the lewd mewling from the boy, he focused on the twisting, milking
approach, reveling in the teenager's loss of control and desperate pleas
for release.

When Dean came the twisting produced sensations on his knob that made it
seem like he was already right in the middle of the orgasm.  But like Rob,
Mike just kept going, stroking exactly the same like Dean had never cum at
all.  Dean felt like his dick was away from his body, and he was trying to
get away from it and the incredible tickling sensation on his captive prick
knob.  Once again he bucked like a madman, squealing his protest.  The men
were mesmerized, watching the helpless teenager express his fuck lust and
enjoying the power they were exercising over his sweating, heaving body.
Dean's first shot hit his neck and the rest spurted across his chest and
stomach drenching the boy is the pungent teen gism.  Dean was grossed out
by having Mike's erect dick so close to his head, especially when the man
ejaculated spontaneously as he made Dean cum, so Dean kept his head turned
away, but the scent of the man's cum was powerful and in all the thrusting
and bucking the sweats covered boner, now sliming the inside of the pants,
bumped against his head and the side of his face, making him feel a strange
excitement from the power he was exerting over the older guy, even though
he was the one captive.

Dean tried not to show any emotions when he felt the buildup to his
ejaculation, but it was impossible.  He had been out of control from the
moment the guys had begun to strip and feel him up, and when Rob and Mike
focused on his sensitive cock knob, he couldn't keep quiet and put on a
macho face.  He normally held his breath and grunted when he came, now he
was groaning and squealing from the overwhelming sensations on his fat,
sticky glans.  "AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH...AAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEE,
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH."  His wide piss lips spread, and the thick ejaculate
burst from the fat knob, bolting up over his head as the talented fist
continued to milk and drain him.

He fought to get away from the merciless palming his fat knob was getting
in his post cum sensitivity. "OH GOD...OOOOOOOHHHH FUCK...STOP,
STOP...AAAAAHHH, NNNNNOOOOOOO, HELP, SHIT, FUCK, AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH."
Yet even as he struggled futilely from the excruciating sensations on his
overwrought glans, yelled and cursed, he sensed that the uncontrollable
response of his body made this cum hotter than any ejaculation he had
experienced.  It was like the times with Steve when he was younger, the
rush, the throbbing excitement, and he didn't know why.  That almost made
him mad, even has he groaned, squealed and thrashed, thrusting his hips as
much into the fists that worked his big boy bone, as much as he tried to
escape—he was no faggot, why did this shit feel so fucking good?

Mike kept going for a good 5 minutes after Dean ejaculated, working his
remorseless fist round and round the fat, still stiff, knob, occasionally
letting his fingernails scrape against the corona, and seeking the knot of
flesh where his circumcision scar was located.  He worked the wet, sticky
knob gently, making the boy strain every muscle as he responded to the
excruciating tickle, his head bouncing frantically from side to side.  Rob
told Mike they should switch, so they changed spots and now, instead of
trying to get up, Dean's thrashing and bucking calmed down and eventually,
he just lay there letting the men do what they wanted with his body.  It
was almost as if he was having an out of body experience, and he was
watching himself act weird, letting these faggots touch and play with his
body, but between the powerful sensations of his cums, and the excruciating
sensations of working his cum-sensitive knob, he just did not know what to
do other than to let the sensations keep on going.  It was like he was a
dumb animal, being used and unable to regain control of his body, and
slavishly responding to the overwhelming sensation of having his knob
polished and teased.

Rob paused for a minute and crawled between Dean's legs, and Mike brought
him a small gym bag from another room.  Rob pulled out a long plastic bag
tie that he wrapped around Dean's dick and balls saying it would keep the
boy hard. For a moment Dean panicked as the older boy pulled out some small
dildoes that appeared huge to him. But Rob ignored them, and instead he
extricated a bottle of Vaseline and dipping his finger, he used them to
slide between Dean's taut teenage ass cheeks.  Dean started to get agitated
again, fearing for his ass, his bastion of privacy and manhood, but Rob was
persistent and Dean was still exhausted from his previous cums, so
eventually the thick digit of the older boy slithered up his anus and into
his rectum.  Other than the Doctor giving his a prostate exam, this was the
only intrusion Dean had allowed into his inner sanctum.  He started
fighting to get up and push Rob away, but the other men just laughed at him
and said they weren't going to let Dean stop cumming.

Dean started yelling this was rape and he was going to beat the shit out of
Mike and his cousin, both of whom began to get scared suggesting they
should stop and `let the kid go.'  But Rob was determined, with a kind of
creepy, calm telling the others what to do and finally they just fought
Dean back down onto the bed, wearing him out and getting him so tired he
stopped fighting.  Panicked again, Dean yelled and said he was going to
shout until someone called the police.  So Mike took his long white cotton
gym socks off and wrapped one around the boy's eyes and then tied it, and
he used the other one as a gag, wrapping it around and into Dean's mouth.
The teenager yelled into the socks, to no avail, and sputtered, furious
that Mike's dirty gym socks had been shoved into his mouth.  But
fortunately Mike hadn't had his shoes on long, so the socks were not
rancid, and Dean would never forget the taste and feel of the socks in his
mouth—being gagged and helpless making his prick get hard.  Someone
turned up the record or tape player, and the Goo Goo Dolls and Celine Deon
were playing in the background over and over...music that to this day Dean
hates.

In the meantime, Rob was trying to push his fingers up and into Dean's ass
while Kent and Mike took turns playing with the boy's bound dick, flicking
his nips and teasing and tickling his sides where the drying ejaculate was
itching.  Rob just kept saying "not yet" and "I'll find it" when he had his
finger inside Dean, wriggling the thick digit back and forth in search of
Dean's nut, and telling him to relax.  When he finally hit the spot and
found the boy's firm fuck nut, Dean eyes opened wide and he tensed from the
strange ache, trying to desperately move his hips to escape the invasion.
But Rob smiled a knowing smile and he got very aggressive, prodding and
probing the spot, making the teenage boy feel as if he was being
masturbated from the inside out.  It was really uncomfortable for Dean but
it started to feel very strange, and soon he got hard again and the wire
tie around his cock and balls felt way too tight.

This time Kent made the teenager cum, stroking him to the same rhythm as
Rob's finger kept fucking deep up the firm, hot hole.  Dean groaned and
grunted into the gag, his body being once again used and worked by these
older boys.  "Huuuhhhhhhhhh... aaaaggggggggggg...nnnnnnnnnngggggghhhhhh..."
His words were garbled by the sock gag...but it probably wouldn't have
mattered since he was once again descending into oblivion, becoming the
fuck horny animal...bucking and thrusting his prick into the fist that was
milking him.  Here was the strange part for Dean...even as he fought to
escape the incredible sensations, they were making his prick steel hard.
Somewhere, somewhere deep inside, Dean wanted his fat schlong milked into
submission, and crazy at it seemed, the milking fists of his cousin and his
cousin's friends were giving he what he needed.  When he came, Kent kept
stroking the pulsing shaft and palming the fat, wet knob.  Kent laughed as
the cum rocketed out of the wide piss lips, and said "whoa!" because Dean's
spooge shot really high into the air, splattering over the boy's head and
onto Kent's arm.  For Dean's cousin and the other men, seeing the sixteen
year old stretched out on the couch and straining as his bloated glans
expanded obscenely and his thick teenage crud bolted up and out of his
rigid bone, was almost as sensational as their own cums.  They savored the
domination and control of the boy.  For Dean, in his post cum let-down, he
wanted Rob to stop fucking his fingers in his hole, and lifted his hips in
an attempt to escape.  But Rob's insistent fingers stayed inside, pushing
and rubbing the firm fuck nut gland of the teenage boy, making him buck
from the ache feeling produced each time the fingers rubbed his firm
prostate.

Now Kent knew about how Dean's brother, Rob and Dean would rub their
dickheads when they masturbated, and especially after they would cum.  Dean
had confided in his cousin a long while ago about how amazing it felt to
work his fat knob.  So Kent rotated his palm round and round the sticky,
cum wet glans of the captive boy, making him buck insanely, teasing his
nerve studded corona until they thought Dean would pass out from the sheer
effort of trying to escape.  Dean wailed into the sock gag, squeezing his
eyes shut tight and snapping his head back and forth.  But his toes
stretched out in the socks there were almost off of his big boy feet, and
even as he ground his teeth and pursed his lips, the seismic sensation of
the knob work made his orgasm as complete as he needed and wanted.  Little
did his cousin know just what an emerging slut they had in their merciless
hands.  Round and round Kent rubbed his palm on the never-studded corona
and still tumescent cock knob for what seemed like ages after the spunk
filled teen had finished cumming.  The room reeked of the bleach-like odor
of teen sperm.

The third cum was the last one and Rob made Dean achieve it by stimulating
the boy's horny fuck nut, causing him to clench his bowels and rectum,
greedily gripping the fingers that were reaming him.  Rob went back to the
bag from which the Vaseline had been taken.  The dildos that had been left
aside now were brought from the other room, and greased.  Then one at a
time, they were screwed into the teenager, his muscular legs forced up to
his chest and spread, exposing the ragged split of his anus for all the men
to see.  They stared at it eagerly, and watched intently as Rob introduced
one after another of the slender devices, making sure that they bumped into
Dean's tender and sore nut, making him squeeze his muscles and grip them
deep within his rectum.

What the men did not know, and what Dean would never admit, was that the
sweet ache up his asshole made his cock twitch and harden, leaking copious
amounts of pre-fuck juice, and making his tits achey stiff and his toes
flex and stretch out.  As Rob worked the dildos into him, the others palmed
his fat cock knob gently, making him whine with desperation.  But after
pushing a few different toys inside Dean, the one that touched him just the
right way, and turned him into the whore slut he was deep inside, making
his prick go steel hard, was a little vibrating egg that they slipped into
his fundament.  It was connected to a thick string to keep it from going
too far in and not coming out, and a wire that was attached to a control
box.  Once lodged in Dean's rectum against his prostate, and then switched
on by the remote, the wicked device not only buzzed loudly, it buzzed
really, really strongly, driving the boy almost insane.  The more he bucked
and jerked, the more it slid insidiously inside Dean's clinging rectum
walls, and over his prostate.  The worst part for the teen jock, was that
he liked it a lot.  Rob even used some of Dean's cum to lube one of the
toys, and laughed as the device slid into the teen's rectum, thinking it
was so cool to do him with his own juice. Amazingly, Kent and Mike were no
longer really holding Dean down anymore, but just holding onto him and
toying with his hunky body. Dean was completely confused; perhaps it was
the power of the vibrations deep within his boy pussy, coupled with the
thrilling throbbing of his turgid pecker, or the teeth grinding sensation
of his knob being polished, but something must have made the boy crazy.  At
any rate he didn't know why but he didn't try to get away; he wanted to cum
again and see the stars that exploded in his brain the last time they had
milked him.  Perhaps more troubling, Dean was thinking about Mike's fucking
hardon again, and even tried to see if he could see it around the sock in
his mouth that was also partly flipped over his eyes. He did not want to be
obvious and fling the sock away by turning his head towards Mike and
straining his eyes, so he tried to catch a glimpse as he squirmed and
rolled his head. Fuck, his asshole was alive like a beehive of buzzing,
stinging bees, his prick was no longer under his control, his nipples,
balls, and other sensitive parts of his body were being strummed by greedy
fingers...shit,he was fucking helpless and he loved it.  As he started to
get close to cumming, Rob turned up the power on the egg, making it vibrate
faster and faster, and pulled on the string one way then the other, tugging
the egg around inside the boy more and more.

Rob could not contain himself as he watched the youngster writhe and roll
his eyes from the various sensations overwhelming him.  "Jesus, look at the
little shit...he's a randy fuck, and man what a bone.  The fucker is as
horny as a toad...prick hard, leaking, and ready to squirt scum
again...damn...I wish my prick would stay that hard, Christ, and his ass is
too damn hungry...he loves his nut worked.  Keep pinchin' his tits, and
someone play with his balls."

Rob was right...Dean was moving all over the couch, grinding his ass, and
stretching his and curling his toes...he was climbing steadily up the hill
to his cum.  He finally reached the summit and came really hard for the
third and last time.  The men marveled at how enthusiastic Dean was, his
body bouncing and heaving, really into it.  You could tell he no longer
cared anymore about other guys seeing him ejaculate.  The private, male
defense of the act of orgasm had given way to the delicious, whorish
pleasure of losing complete control of his body to others and the wicked,
nasty things they were eliciting from him.  Dean also made a lot of noise
as he thrashed around, squealing through the sock in unintelligible but
clearly sexual power.  He bucked so much that Mike and Kent had to grasp
and hold him hard and fast again.

Rob was clearly proud of his efforts, saying "Yeah!  Give it to me you
horny little fuck, shoot that spunk...ooooooohhhhh yeah!, you're a good
little slut, shoot it, man, shoot it like you can stop!"  Over and over he
exhorted the teenager sperm factory distracting the kid and making his cum
all the more powerful, secretly exciting the youth who had now begun to
accept the role of a surrendering whore punk.  Dean may have wanted to feel
like I was alone was alone, like any straight dude, but Rob's sexual
banter, and low husky commentary kept reducing the boy into a hapless,
powerless punk.  Dean could not help but be reminded that Rob was still
there, and Rob made sure he knew.  When Dean finished ejaculating, and even
the slimy dregs had stopped leaking from his sensitive piss lips, Rob
tortured the weak, spent boy by working his soft, but relentless prick tip,
pulling and squeezing it and twisting his fist to get the last few drops of
cum to drool out.  Dean stretched out then hunched, trying to do anything
to escape the maddening sensations.

Surprisingly, Dean did not feel gross or humiliated, dirty or emasculated,
but just tired as fuck...and his ass felt like sore as hell, needing lube.
The corona and the edge of his dick head felt very raw and sore. Rob turned
off the egg and in a flash Dean's ass felt very full but also
empty...secretly he actually missed the buzzing. Mike and Kent finally let
Dean go, and Rob told the boy to go "shit the egg out" in the bathroom
shower,and he soaked under the warm spray to regain his senses and stop the
spinning in his head. Dean blushed by himself in the shower, having to bend
his knees and spread his legs like some cunt to push the egg out of his boy
pussy.  It was so fucking weird, partly because he thought it felt like he
was taking a shit, but also because in the end it did not feel as bad as he
expected it would.  In fact, it had hurt much more when Rob had pushed it
in to him.  Fortunately, it wasn't even dirty or anything, and after
washing it, he was able to slide a finger up into himself and though sore,
he closed his eyes and savored the new feeling of something up his boy
cunt.  At sixteen, Dean had learned that he had a new, special, private
place that needed to be stimulated and teased when he wanted thorough,
complete, and sensational sex.

When Dean came back out into the living room to get his clothes the men
were all mostly naked, lying on the roll-out bed from the couch, watching
gay porn video on the television.  Dean dressed silently on the edge of the
bed, not saying anything of what had transpired, and how he had surrendered
like a back seat whore to the delicious sensations that wracked his young,
highly sexually charged body.  But for Dean, there was an indelible picture
in his head both of what had happened, and his part, and a picture of Kent
lying on his back with Mike and Rob on their knees next to his head and
shoulders jacking off like they were going to shoot on his face.  For a
moment, Dean thought he might puke, the notion of these guys jerking their
stiff, hard dicks at one another, and their naked bodies reminding him that
he had let some guys use and play with his beautiful, masculine body.

No one said anything to Dean until he said in passing to his cousin Kent
that he would see him later.  Rob turned and looking at the boy with a sly
grin, he said "So now you know what it feels like, huh?"  Dean looked back
with a dead pan expression, and then blushing, just kinda nodded yes.  Then
he looked over at Mike who was about to cum and had reared his head back.
Dean saw his thick dick with its angry red knob and suddenly he felt
bizarre, because he wanted to see Mike cum.  He blushed, knowing that his
own prick was stiffening again, unbelieveably, after three cums, just at
the thought of someone feeling what he had just felt.  He blushed again,
but didn't want to "be gay" so he turned and left the house.  But even as
he departed, he looked and saw that Mike's dick was longer than his own,
rigid, and came to a point and looked like it was "chewed up" at the tip
where his long foreskin protected its tip.  His last image of that night
was of Mike, burned into his memory, with one big, gnarled hand under his
balls and the other one stroking that long prick below his firm abs.  Dean
bit his lip, his prick lurched, and he felt a new drip of pre-cum slip from
between his wide piss lips.  Without knowing, Dean knew...knew that from
now on in his fantasies and dreams, somewhere in the back of his mind, the
notion of a spectacular cum over which he did not have control, where his
thick, firm prick and its fat apple knob would be teased mercilessly and
drained completely, would haunt him.


The night had ended, Dean had been drained of cum, and his prick was sore.
But even though he did not show it after that night and never spoke of it,
Dean had loved being made to cum and the sensation of being unable to
control his cock and ejaculations.  Even now, when he masturbated or when
he was fucking a chick, the memory of that night and the sensation of being
helpless and cumming three straight times, being forced to cum three
straight times, and the wicked ticklish feeling of his prick knob as the
boys ruthlessly milked him, crept into his thoughts and added to his sexual
excitement.  So when he was offered money to allow a blow job by one of his
faggot customers, Dean was cautious and yet expectant.  On the one hand, he
was hesitant and feared the notion of losing control to someone like Rob,
and yet whether it was money or sexual curiosity, he wanted to surrender to
the servicing of his big prick.  He did not want anyone to know, so he kept
these thoughts to himself.  He could not let anyone know, that somewhere
deep inside there was something about being out of control and cumming
relentlessly.  But he figured he would be safe, after all he was no witless
sixteen year old.  Now he was a man, and a strong one at that.  None of the
clients knew of his strange lust, and so now he was in control...one cum
and more money.  The fags would pay and no one would be the wiser.

Now, year's later a businessman in his thirties had engaged Dean and they
had met in a corporate apartment that was available to the man.  As long as
it was only one person, Dean felt he was safe.  It wouldn't be like that
night long ago when the men ganged up on him.  He was big enough, and
confident enough to take care of himself.  But there was something about
letting another man touch his beautiful, masterful prick...it had been
untouched by another man since that night a decade earlier.  But just the
thought of another dude touching him made the fear of losing control both
excite and repel him.  Dean stretched out on the sofa in the apartment, and
flexed his toes in the pair of flip-flops he wore on the hot afternoon.
The man wore dark-rimmed glasses and dressed in a quality wool sports coat
and slacks.  But he got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to the
sofa not withstanding his expensive clothes, sweat beginning to drip from
his brow.  Then he slowly slipped off the flip flops, and stared like a
starving man at Dean's large feet, their pale skin, and the blond hair that
grew in small tufts on his fist three toes and below his ankles on the top
of his foot.  His soles were smooth and over the months Dean had persuaded
his girl friend to massage his feet after he showered and smooth in
softening cream to keep them from getting too calloused.  He wiggled his
long digits in front of the businessman's face, and soon the man was
sucking and gently tickling Dean's big peds.

The man became so excited, he asked if he could suck Dean's cock, and Dean
gave him the terms.  The man willingly agreed, and soon Dean's jeans were
at his ankles along with his briefs, and the man was sniffing his big sweat
starched balls, and licking them, as he worked his way up the thick shaft
towards the large, bulbous knob that was leaking a steady flow of clear
pre-fuck.  Dean closed his eyes, and let the man earn his money.  He was
not excited by the blow job per se, it was just a normal physical reaction
for his penis to get hard as a pair of lips caressed his big boy boner, and
by closing his eyes he could imagine that it was his girl friend who loved
nothing more than to suck his cock into submission at night in bed.  But
when the man's fist would slide over his cock knob as he sucked and jerked
the big shaft, Dean recalled that night with the guys who had milked him.
He fought the images that forced their way into his thoughts, and worked to
keep in control, to get his money and get out.

The blow job proceeded normally, and the sensations were predictable, but
this guy seemed to have a talent for finding the special spots, especially
under his circumcision scar and at the flared edges of his piss lips that
drove Dean wild.  Plus, his way of sucking, using his meaty fist to slide
over Dean's bloated cock knob, made his long toes curl as the tongue, lips
and fist worked to bathe and suck his precious prick.  Dean ground his ass
into the sofa cushions unconsciously.  His eyes closed tight, and his
nipples hardened, and when the guy fisted his fat prick head in conjunction
with his sucking mouth, and rolled his palm over the expanding knob, in a
constant, smooth rhythm torturing the glans, it seemed it was that night
when one of the guys fists rolled over his cock knob relentlessly and drove
him mad with pleasure.  At one point, the man's long, thick finger trailed
under Dean's big, fragrant, hanging nut suck, when he lifted the young
man's leg's up as he suckled the fat prick, and it exposed his ragged
nether hole.  As the finger scratched along his perineum, it trickled
between the ragged anal lips and sent an electric jolt through Dean's body,
making his tits harden to achey points, and his toes curl tight.
Momentarily Dean forgot where he was, and when his wide piss lips began
ejecting wads of his thick spooge, he bucked and thrust his prick into the
siphoning mouth, and then he let the man continue to milk his cock.  He
grunted and mewled, and threw his had back and forth, but he didn't stop
the ruthless sucking that his over-wrought prick was receiving.

He lost track of where he was and what he was doing, and instead just let
the man continue to manipulate his fat prong, teasing the helpless knob and
making him see stars.  The man looked up in wonder, and watched as he
seemed to have taken control over this big man who for all ostensible
purposes had treated him like a slave.  But for this moment, Dean was under
the control of the slender, bookish looking businessman, and his prick
would not get soft, or the knob shrink.  Instead, his head lolled back and
forth, and he grunted and whined and swore, and let the man tease his big
boy penis on and on after his ejaculation.  Five minutes went by, until
gasping, Dean had a moment of clarity, and his eyes opened wide and he
forced the fist off his prick and pushed the man back away from his body.
He looked the businessman in the face, gasping, but also with a kind of
fear.  The man sensed it...and he brought an enigmatic smile onto his face,
as if he knew something that Dean did not.  That was the first time, but
not the last.

It had been three nights since Dean had fucked his girlfriend.  Jesus, it
had been a damn good night.  She had been playing with his prick under the
table during dinner, scratching her fingernail over the sensitive tip,
making him clench his ass muscles from the ticklish sensation, and leaking
into his cotton briefs, wetting them and causing a sweet friction on his
bloated cock knob.  Then, as they drove home, she sucked his prick in the
car, making him want to swoon, but also making sure he did not cum.  When
they got into the apartment, they stripped halfway to the bedroom, and he
fucked her on the floor of the bedroom and then on the bed, cumming in her
pussy and then her mouth.  Fuuuuuccccck it was sooooo good.  But that was
three days ago, and like the gism factory he was, his nuts were full and
hard.  It was good that he had an appointment tonight.  The guy said he
wanted to consider paying for a blow job as well, after the foot work.  So
Dean was prepared for another satisfying release.

When he arrived at the guy's apartment, he was offered a beer, and he
gladly took it.  He did not know that the beer was laced with Viagra and a
sedative.  Soon, with a light buzz going, the dude had slipped off his
trainers and thick, white, cotton socks and was laving his toes with his
tongue, lashing between them, suckling them sweetly and making his prick
reflexively begin to harden when it happened.  He had closed his eyes and
let his head fall backwards onto the couch to enjoy the buzz and let the
time pass quickly.  The man slipped one hand under his t-shirt and sought
out his stiff male tits, and was gently pinching them, making his prick
harden quickly.  Just as he was about to surrender to the sweet sucking
mouth, and the roiling fist rolling over his fat knob a hand closed over
his nose and mouth with a cloth and there was a sickly, sweet smell.
Already tired by the sedative and high from the beer, Dean was out like a
light.

When he awoke, Dean was stunned.  He could not move.  As his eyes grew
accustomed to the dark room, he realized that once again in his life, he
was out of control.  Once again, he was a prisoner as he had been so many
years ago.  He was resting on his knees in two separate, padded supports
that went from his quads, bent at the knees ninety degrees, and then
supported his shins.  His big feet flapped out at the ends bare and
exposed, their pale smooth soles completely vulnerable.  His arms were
cuffed up behind his back elbow to elbow, and his head rested on a chin
support strong enough to keep it at a normal level and relieve any pressure
on his neck.  His stomach rested against a padded brace in front and had a
strap that secured around his midsection and his body to support his back.
He had on a set of blinders around his head that kept him face forward and
a perforated ball gag that allowed him to gasp in gulps of air.  He wiggled
his toes helplessly and groaned into the gag though his words were
unintelligible.  He was apparently naked, because his big prick erected as
soon as he grew conscious, and aimed out in front of him, the piss lips
opening to ooze his sticky flow.  Dean was again trapped and his prick
immediately responded to the tantalizing possibilities.

The logistical arrangements though were not the crucial element of his
bondage.  It was what he felt on his cock and up his rectum that made his
eyes go wide.  A modified version of the Venus 2000 milker was strapped
over his Viagra induced erection.  Within the cylinder, designed to
contract and retract back and forth, was another sliding mechanism that
would move around the shaft snugly one inch above and below the glans and
corona, twisting back and forth.  Round and round it would twist and move
up and down, one direction and then the other.  The interior slide was a
smooth soft plastic that self-lubricated.  At several locations through the
retracting cylinder were thin, flexible wires that were an effective
conductor of electrical current. Working with an e-Stim connection and
control, this Venus could huff and chuff up and down, spinning the interior
slide and activating it in a counter direction to the exterior slide.  The
result was a movement over the glans and one inch above it on the prick
shaft, gently grazing the corona and knob, and activating the electrical
current of the e-Stim and wires to tickle and tantalize the helpless helmet
of the fat prick.

As he awoke, he heard a switch flick and the motion of the compressor
began, Dean's eyes rolled up as if he would faint, because the intense
tickling of his prick head was driving him wild, especially when it would
graze gently and buzz his circumcision scar and piss lips.  This was so
much more powerful that what Dean had done to him, and now he was
completely helpless.  His prick surged at the thought, and the merciless
compressor worked his knob with precision strokes.  At the same time, a
small cylinder had been inserted into Dean's rectum and rested up against
his prostate.  As the electrical current to the prick knob was stimulated
by the slide of the Venus, so it sent a charge into Dean's rectum and
against his fat and ever sensitive fuck nut.  You could tell each time the
slide moved because his long, thick toes would curl reflexively, and his
fingers, though cuffed behind his back, were free and scrabbled uselessly.
It was a magnificent sight, and Dean was on his long, slow way to a massive
ejaculation.  The compressor was calibrated to work gently and slowly,
constantly self-lubricating, and even more slowly if it but detected any
sudden swelling or expansion of the glans penis.  But with the slight and
gentle masturbation of the device, it would take at least one hour to drive
a captive male up and over the edge.  Many a man and boy had been kept
captive to its tender mercies, and their cum had flowed freely and their
cock heads polished cruelly and deliciously.  Here was a device designed
for unruly boys and men, whose wanton masturbation and sexual appetites
suggested a need for discipline and management.

As the devices teased his precious penis, and made his big body shudder and
sweat, Dean suddenly felt a finger tickling into his ear on the right side
of his head.  He grunted, wanting to communicate with the person, to ask
whoever it was to set him free, but the finger just teased and scratched
inside his ear, adding to his frustration and perversely, to his
excitement.  Another finger trailed across his muscular chest and sought
his stiff teats, scratching across the erectile tissue and the hard
nubbins, making them add to the electric current that went to his rectum
and prick head.  Inside his rectum, the well timed and gentle e-stim shocks
pulsed against Dean's nut, and he clenched his bowels each time, hardening
his prick and his fat, succulent knob.  All that mattered now was that his
prick was being stimulated and his he was helpless...just like when he was
sixteen.  The strange fingers continued to reach around his firm chest,
seeking out his stiff teats through the hair on his chest.  When the
fingers found his erect nubbins, they gently pinched and twisted them, and
that only made Dean close his eyes and let the maddening masturbation of
his penis drive him closer to the explosive cum that would result in his
glans being tickled mercilessly in his post cum polishing.  God he wanted
to be helpless and he wanted to get away, and he wanted the sensation on
his prick knob to continue forever.  Jesus Christ, was he a pervert...sick,
why did he like this sensation, this torture...but fuck he loved it...loved
being prick worked and captive, knowing he could not stop his fat cock knob
from being teased into submission.  Then, without relief, the machine would
remain on, the compressor working without rest to wring at least two more
ejaculations from the big man.

Dean was both scared and excited.  His brain was fogged, but more from the
Viagra than from the sedative that had worn off.  It was his sexual
appetite, once in charge, that made him twice a helpless captive.  First
and foremost, he wanted his big penis teased and milked, and second he
needed to be managed, supervised, controlled, and helpless.  One of the
hands that was teasing his nipples and tickling in his ears, moved to his
mouth...and like Pavlov's dog, he opened his mouth and accepted two, thick
blunt digits into the wet cavity, his tongue slurping immediately over
them, his eyes closing as he surrendered even more.  Fuck, he was acting
like a queer...but he couldn't help it, he needed to be subordinate, needed
to be at the mercy of his captor.

The compressor had been bringing him to the edge time and again, teasing
the flange of his piss lips, the lubricated soft plastic, flicking across
the nerve-studded edge of his corona, grazing his circumcision scar's
frenulum.  Dean was dripping in sweat, he had grunted and groaned at the
prospect of his cum, begged for release, and clenched his ass muscles too
many times to count.  His long index toe kept flicking against his big toe,
demanding satisfaction for Dean's frazzled brain...horny beyond belief and
desperate for his cum.

"Fuuuuuuuucccccccck...mother-fucker...aaaaahhhhhhhhhh,
pleeeeeeze...pleeeeeze...fuck, shit, I need to cum, aaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh,
lemme cm, lemme cum...Christ...oooooh fuck...I gotta
cum...FFUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!"  Dean's vocabulary compressed as he neared his
release, shortened to the primitive demands of his fat, sticky boner.  The
pre-set timer on the compressor had reached its limit, and now, as it had
slowed for the umpteenth time to tease the straining prick, it gradually
picked up speed and twisted and slid round and up and down the thick shaft,
gripping the expanding glans tighter and tighter.  "Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh,
goooooooodddddddd ddddddaaammmnnn. Fuck, aaaaaagggghhh!" With one final
slide and twist, Dean squealed at the top of his lungs as his piss lips
opened and ejected ropes of thick, white spooge that blanketed the cylinder
and fell back onto the fat cock knob, lubricating it more as Dean wailed
and pleaded for release from the maddening demands of the compressor.  But
this was the very moment that Dean had been seeking since he was sixteen,
the very excruciating tickle that drives grown men to their knees, as the
huffing cylinder milked his fat cock knob relentlessly.  "OH GOD, OH FUCK,
OH SHIT...AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!"  And on and on the compressor
worked, speeding up to torture and torment the big pricked cum factory.
Dean was now the animal that nature had bred him to be, squirting baby
juice with abandon and still not draining his sweaty balls that could
produce the precious fluid as fast as he ejected it.

Behind Dean, the man who had scheduled the appointment that afternoon,
flashed his digital camera and let the digital video capture a motion
picture version of the milking, capturing a close-up of the young man's
tortured facial expressions, his spontaneous wailing and yelling as his
prick knob was massaged over and over in the post cum phase, as well as the
cum splattering, shattering ejaculation he experienced in exquisite detail.
The slow motion clips of both would be instrumental in the near future.  In
the meantime, the desperate hunk was now whimpering, softly pleading, and
almost hoarse begging to be released as the compressor slowed and now
returned to its cycle, determined to keep the still tumescent prick hard on
its way to cum No. 2.  The day was young, and so was Dean, designed by
Nature to be juiced at least three times in succession.

One hour later, Dean was again on the edge...his eyes wide and his breath
in gasps, as the amazing machine dragged him over the edge.  Once again his
voice rose to a crescendo, and he bleated and howled for freedom and
release as the ruthless mechanical device sucked the cum out of his big boy
nuts.  Once again his toes flicked a quick staccato, occasionally clenching
from the increased itch and tickle on his fat glans, and his cuffed hands
and fingers reaching futiley to grasp something that could help him escape.
"Oooooohhhhhh Jesus, OOOOOOOHHHHHHH MY GOD...NNNNNNOOOOOOO, NNNOOOO, OH
FUCK, OH CHRIST...AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHH, HELP ME, HELP ME...OOOOO MY GODDD!"
Once again the cameras flashed and the video whirred, snapping the images
of the handsome young man glistening in perspiration and seeding the
cylinder with his copious spunk.

After the third and final explosion of gism into the tantalizing machine,
Dean fainted.  But before he did, he clenched his toes tight and closed his
fist and wailed long and hard from the exquisite torture of his sticky, fat
knob one last time.  He almost tipped over his bondage cage from the
violence of his physical exertions, but it was designed to take the efforts
of big boys whose penises were the captive prizes of other men, used for
the pleasure and satisfaction of others.  But Dean had also achieved his
ambition...one he would never acknowledge to others.  He wanted his penis
ruthlessly and mercilessly teased by the mechanical monster, his asshole
ravaged and violated by the electronic vibrator, bound and helpless to stop
the use of his big prick.  Every ejaculation had driven him to near
insanity, and every ejaculation was what he secretly craved and needed.
Fuck what would his girl think...Christ...he could never tell her.

Dean's captor approached him after he had fainted bringing some smelling
salts and a cool, wet face cloth to bring the young man back from oblivion.
When he regained consciousness, the compressor was off and removed from his
red, tender penis.  Once again the fingers were introduced to his mouth
with the admonition that if he bit down in any way, his balls would be
given a painful spanking.  They need not have worried, Dean was now a
mindless animal...doing his master's bidding was all he could comprehend at
the moment.  As he sucked the fingers the man spoke:

"You're a piece of work Dean, and a piece of meat.  Nature bred you to
produce sperm, and like a good boy, you were a cum factory today.  Boy's
and men like you are bred to be used, and even as you squealed and begged
like a silly cunt to be free...your big boy clit stayed stiff and sprayed
cock snot over every centimeter of that cylinder.  Shit, you like to cum
boy, you like it a lot...and at least once a month you're gonna be strapped
down and milked like this.  You won't know when the date will be until
almost the day...and you'll adjust your schedule to accommodate us...and
you won't be allowed to cum for several days in advance.  Fuck, you're
lucky we're letting you enjoy your chick's pussy.  Yeah, you're gonna be a
good dog and do everything we tell you.  And you know why?  Cause we have
every detailed photo of you that will go to your family and the guys you
work with on construction if you don't cooperate.  What do you think those
guys would think...they'd make you the crew cunt and you'd be fucked and
used on a regular basis.  Now, you can't have that Dean...so you'll
cooperate, 100%.  On the days when you join us, you're gonna learn to be
humble and every part of your body will learn to perform."

Dean's eyes did not open as the man spoke, but as each word registered in
his brain, his penis gradually rose one last time, enough to cause his piss
lips to open and some cock drool to drip to the floor below him.  Dean had
finally discovered the balance he needed, the balance between his everyday
life with his girl, his buds, and work, and the other part of his life that
had been missing...the part that involved the use and teasing of his
beautiful big prick.

The next time Dean visited this house, he was bound on his back, ankles to
wrists, with a spreader bar holding his legs apart and over his body.  Once
again he had a vibrating prod inserted in his anus but this time with its
own little compressor that telescoped the dildo in and out of his gripping,
hungry rectum.  Once again, the sucking compressor was affixed to his
turgid erection and his fat glans, but this time an attachment in the roof
of the cylinder added to Dean's experience.  A horse hair brush that
rotated rested at the top of the cylinder, so that when the compressor
sucked it down it triggered the horsehair cap to spin around and tickle his
fat glans and corona.  Part of magic of this addition was a viscous fluid
compound that produced an incredible itch on the skin surface.  Once there,
the steady leak of pre-fuck, with the lubricant provided by the device
itself, kept the itch going until the device was removed.  Dean howled and
laughed insanely, tickled mercilessly by the grazing of his glans and
corona by the Venus device, along with the maddening tickling of the
bristles over and around his fat glans.  Once again attended by his host,
his nipples and ears licked and scratched, his big feet bristled with firm
bristle brushes and electric toothbrushes added to his sensations, all
drove Dean to nuclear ejaculations.  Once again, his brain short-circuited
and turned him into a babbling, crazed cum producer.  It was amazing and
brilliant to watch, and his captor invited discreet men like himself who
paid handsomely to see the young buck milked, and milked, and milked.

Dean is a more disciplined boy these days.  He's focused at work rather
than just wasting time joking and fooling around with the other guys at the
construction sites.  He's also keeping in shape, and he is sharper and more
thoughtful.  He and his girl friend are thinking of marriage, one more step
towards stability and order in his life.  Folks are not quite sure what has
happened to him.  The devil-may-care guy who most often did things because
they were fun, rather than because they were sensible, seems to be gone.
No one knows why these changes have occurred, but everyone seems to think
they are for the better.  What they do not know is that once a month Dean
gets "treatment."  His fiancé thinks they are chiropractic treatments for
an old work injury.  Dean told her it strengthens his back and makes him
better able to fuck.  She likes that.  The guys at work don't even know
he's getting them, though he's told them that he has doctor's appointments.
But once per month, at varying times, Dean promptly and punctually makes
his appointment.  He always seems to come out of them chastened and
refreshed, and more determined to follow his regimen.  Now when Dean fucks
his girl, there is an extra thrust in his legs, and stiffness in his prick.
And there are nights when they don't fuck, that as he lies facing away from
her, on his stomach, his prick goes stiff in his pajama bottoms, and he
hardens against the bedding and his piss lips spread to leak their sticky,
sex drool.  Only Dean knows why all these changes have occurred, but he
never speaks of them.

There are also times when he is driving to a job site and his cock stiffens
as the big bike he is driving throbs beneath him, or at night when he
grinds his fat boner into the sheets, or when his glans is in the
stranglehold of his girl-friend's clasping pussy, his thoughts may stray.
It's at those moments he knows that once a month the deep need he has will
be satisfied, and it allows him to set his course straight.  The years of
searching for the regular "treatment" his thick, stiff, sticky boner needs
are over.  Now he is able to release himself into the care of others, men
who know what he needs, and without restraint or restriction they subject
his firm, muscular body to every means of sexual stimulation they can
conceive, but to one end, the complete mechanical milking and teasing of
his raging prick.  Once a month he can surrender control and know and feel
the satisfaction of not having to find on his own relief and the
subordination he so desperately requires.

Dean no longer does the foot gigs.  He's got a different "Dean's List" now.
In some sense, Dean finally made the "Dean's List" himself; he is a
complete man.  There are many men and boys across America and the world who
need to be on a "Dean's List", who need the management and supervision of
their raging pricks on a regular basis that frees them to have an ordered
and disciplined life.  Dean does not masturbate without permission, and his
ejaculations are either in his fiancé's pussy or at his treatments.  His
cum builds up, but he knows the day will come each month without fail that
it will be drained from him mercilessly and completely.  How many men would
wish they could be as fortunate as Dean?

Completed July 26, 2009