Date: Mon, 1 Dec 2003 08:50:19 -0800 (PST) From: Max Hewitt Subject: "Punking Mike," ch. 1 I should explain how this story came to be written. I had sent a pic to a buddy with the comment that there was surely a story behind it. The buddy challenged me to write the story. This is the result. This story involves sex between two guys. If you shouldn't be reading stuff like that, move on. In this story, the characters don't use condoms. In the real world, anybody who doesn't practice safe sex is a menace to himself and society. Don't be a menace. It's okay to print this story out or save it to disc, but don't transfer it to another archive or website without my permission, please. Lilperv76@yahoo.com Chapter 1 MC: Seth Watkins and I never ANY much use for each other. We grew up in the same town, went to the same high school, knew a lot of the same people. We'd both been popular, rivals sometimes, but we ran in different circles most of the time. Both of us even went to the state university, though he majored in marketing or something like that and I was in pre-law, so we seldom saw each other there. But we'd never liked each other, and since State is a big school, we never bumped into each other there. Our mutual dislike also had something to do with our fathers. His dad was the biggest home builder in the county. My dad was an assistant county prosecutor and, by the time I'd started college, was the county prosecutor. He and Bart Watkins, Seth's dad, had bumped heads fairly often over things like zoning infringements, building codes and such. Face it, Bart was a sleaze. He didn't give a rats ass for the law. He did everything he could to get building codes and zoning laws changed to make things more profitable for him. When he couldn't, he'd skirt the laws. Bart paid hefty fines more than once, largely because my dad kept an eye on Bart's shady business dealings. So, I guess you could say there was no love lost between the two families. SW: If you've got enough money, you can do just about anything you want and get away with it. I've never had any problem with money. In the spring of our freshman year at State, one of our home-town buddies told me that Mike Cronin was going to be around all summer, working part time for one of his dad's lawyer friends. I'd been wanting to show Cronin what was what for a long time, so I spent some of the money. And now I had just what I needed to humble Mr. High and Mighty Cronin and his "Voice of the People" old man. I pulled into his driveway one morning in June, not long after we got home from State. I knew his summer job wouldn't start for another week. It was already hot, and there was Mike cutting the grass, wearing a pair of those shiny running shorts. They rode low enough on his hips so I could see he had a jock on under them. He was covered with a fine film of sweat. I had to admit the son of a bitch looked great. MC: When Seth Watkins showed up in our driveway, I was surprised. Like I said, he and I just don't have anything to do with each other if we can help it. He was driving that hot red Beamer convertible that he cruises around town in. He switched off the ignition and got out. I turned off the mower and walked over to see what he wanted. "Hi, Mikey," he said. "How ya doin?" "Watkins. What brings you here?" I didn't trust him. The friendliness was all an act. Had to be. "I hear your mom's in Chicago visiting relatives." "Yeah, how'd you know that?" "Word gets around. And your dad's at work, right?" I was really getting a funny feeling about this. Why was he here? What did he want? He grabbed a manila folder from the seat of his car and said, "Mike, old buddy, let's go around back and sit on the patio for a minute. There's something you need to know." Okay. Whatever. I couldn't go on being surly, so I asked if he wanted a soda. He said that would be good. When I returned with a cola for each of us, he handed me the folder. He sipped from the can as I looked inside. There was a very clear picture of my dad with his arms around another man. They were kissing -- in a full lip-lock! I felt dizzy. Dad gay? No way. But, though you couldn't see the other man's face, it was my dad for sure. "Where did you get this?" I asked Watkins. "Oh, I've had a guy keeping an eye on your dad for a month or so. And just look what he found! By the way, I'll probably have some even juicier pics in a few days. I'll bet while your old lady's gone, your pa and this dude will get up to something. Oh, and I've got this pic on file on a pc where you'll never be able to get at it, so don't worry about ripping up this print. Go right ahead if it will make you feel better." SW: Cronin obviously didn't know his old man was having a gay fling. He'd already got the makings of a pretty good tan, but he looked pale and sort of sick, like someone had hit him in the gut. He'd look even paler when he found out what I had in mind. All the girls thought Mike was good looking. He was from a Chicago Irish family and it showed. About six feet, an inch or so taller than me, he had dark, curly hair which he wore short, and green eyes. Sort of a baby face. Like I said, he was popular with the girls in our high school. He was built like a swimmer, a little smaller in the chest and shoulders than me, but he had good shoulder and arm muscles and defined abs. MC: I was having trouble getting used to the idea that my dad was gay, but I couldn't think of any other reason why he'd be frenching another dude. "Seth, why did you show me this? And what are you going to do with it?" "Well, Mike, what I do with that picture depends on you." I swallowed. "On me?" "Yeah. I can guarantee no one will ever see this pic. All you have to do is -- everything I tell you to do." "What do you mean, `everything'?" "Just what I said. Look, Mike, we live in the same town, we go to the same university. You and I are going to be together a lot in the next three years. So you are going to be my boy." I guess I was pretty naïve. I still didn't now what he was getting at. "Your boy?" "Yeah, Mikey, my boy. My bitch. You're gonna be my cocksucker, my pussyboy, my asslicker -- whatever I want." "My God, Seth. I can't do that. I'm not gay!" "Doesn't matter. Unless you want this picture to go to all the local media, you'd better make up your mind that your ass and everything else about you are mine. Just think what would happen to your father's career if everybody in town knew he was a faggot. He'd never be reelected. Hell, he wouldn't even be able to practice law. At least not and maintain the kind of lifestyle your family has now. Maybe he'd get work helping poor folks who can't afford anything better and would settle for a fag lawyer. But live like this?" He gestured toward the house, the pool. "No way!" I was beginning to feel really sick when he continued. "And what about your mama? What would it do to her to find out her husband is a queer? Frenching some guy? Think about that, man! Now do you see why you've gotta do exactly what I tell you to?" I wanted to tear the bastard apart. He outweighs me by about ten pounds, and he's more muscular than I am, but I would have tried it. Except he had all the marbles. I was sure he was right when he said that the original was a file on his computer. Taking a deep breath to try to control my pounding heart, I asked, "You didn't mean it about all the things you'd make me do, did you? Couldn't we work something out?" "Nope. Nothin' to work out, boy. Either you decide right now you're gonna be my personal bitch, or the shit hits the fan for the Cronin family." SW: I could tell by the look on his face I had him. He looked like he wanted to light into me, but then I could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. And then there was this whipped look. I knew as soon as he did that he'd made up his mind he didn't really have a choice. "Er, are you sure there isn't anything else I could do? I could get money, maybe." "Dude, I don't need money. You know my family has more money than yours. The only thing you've got that I want is yourself. Your body. Your mind. I'm gonna take the great Mike Cronin and make him a bitch boy." "I, ah, I didn't even know you were gay." I walked over and backhanded him across the face. "Watch your mouth, cocksucker. I need a place to get my rocks off, to deposit my seed. I need a place to put my cock whenever it needs servicing. And, believe me, I will take great pleasure in putting it in your holes. But they are just holes to me. Don't think I've got the hots for you or anything like that. NOW! STAND UP AND COME HERE!" The fact is that I did have the hots for him. I wanted him in the worst way through three years of high school. But we were always rivals. And he was so obviously straight. Of course, for all anyone knew I was Mr. Straight, too. And I lived the straight life all through high school. I fucked my share of women. Don't get me wrong, I like both sides of the street. In high school I wanted to grab Mike Cronin and shove my cock in his mouth or up his butt. But I couldn't do that. I was forced by my family situation and the conservatism of our community to get my rocks off with chicks. And that was fine. But I wanted to stick my cock into Mike Cronin. At State, where there's more anonymity and where I'm not in the spotlight like I was in high school, I've found a couple of fuck buddies. All very hush-hush, of course. But enough to know that I like man sex. And the man I have always wanted has always been my enemy. There he always was, so confident, so secure, so popular. And there he always was, with those sexy blue eyes, the dimples, the curly black hair, the nice bulge in his jeans, and that fantastic ass. So, yeah, I'm "bi" I guess, but I was really looking forward to not only getting my rocks off with the Cronin stud, but also to making him my bitch. Very appropriate, it seemed to me. MC: Because of the way our house is situated, we have almost complete privacy in the back yard. And no one was due home for nearly six hours, when dad would get home from the office. Mom was to be away for a week. It looked as if he had me for the rest of the day, and no one could see what we were doing unless they happened to be walking through the woods at the back of our lot, and that almost never happened. The undergrowth back there was so thick it discouraged casual strolls. I wondered what I could do. I could have walked away. But that would have caused the ruin of my family. Not that Dad hadn't ruined it when he decided to have a fling. With a guy! I would have some trouble processing that. I loved my dad. I'd always looked up to him, and we'd had some great times together, just the two of us. I felt betrayed. He'd been unfaithful to Mom. I was tempted to let Seth send the picture to the newspaper and the tv stations. I remember thinking that he'd deserve that. But what about mom? I couldn't let Seth do that to her. I had to do what I could to spare her the embarrassment. So, I got up and walked slowly toward the guy who had made himself my worst enemy. And my worst nightmare. SW: "That's smart, Mike. If you cooperate, you are going to like all this in the long run. I promise not to hurt you -- much -- if you just do everything I tell you to. You are going to be begging me for my cock, my cum. You're going to need me, feel empty and meaningless when I'm not with you." "Cut the shit, Seth, and just get on with it. What do you want?" "For starters, pretty boy, strip!" I'll give him credit. He looked me straight in the eye as he pushed his shorts and jock to his ankles, and he continued to look at me as he stepped out of them. I decided his cock was a grower because it only hung down a couple of inches. "Good boy. Now, I need to inspect the goods. Turn around, bend over, and show me your pussy. Pull your ass cheeks apart for me." "Shit, man, that's sick. You can't expect me to do that." "Okay, Mike. Your call." I started toward the front of the house. "I"ll just leave the picture as a souvenir. Maybe when your dad gets home you can show it to him. And then the two of you can leave town together, or maybe he'll want to give you a big kiss." I laughed at the thought. I had gotten to the corner of the house when he said, "Watkins, wait. I, uh, I'll do it." "All right, boy. I'll give you that one moment of being stubborn. But if it happens again, I'm out of here, and you know what I'll do. Now, show me your pussy." The guy blushed through his tan. And I felt a real rush. Here was my lifelong rival, the guy who was president of our class when I was vice president, the guy who was voted most popular, bending over and showing me his asshole. And I sprang instant wood. I'd seen Mike naked before in the showers and locker room in high school, but I'd never seen his rosebud. Oh, was I going to have fun with that! "Cute, boy. But it looks real tight. We'll have to see what we can do to loosen it up, won't we?" I tickled his tiny pink-brown pucker with my middle finger and chuckled. I'd always wanted to give Mike the finger, but never thought I'd get to do it this way. He jumped when I touched him and almost lost his balance. I let him wobble and laughed as he tried to right himself. "Now, straighten up and turn around. First things first." He turned again to face me, looking as if he'd like to kill me. That was all right by me. It would take a while to knock that out of him, but I'd manage. "First of all, the tits." I reached over and began to rub his nubs with the backs of my fingers. He looked embarrassed. "Man, you are sick. What is this shit?" I squeezed both nipples as hard as I could and he yelped. "Watch your mouth, boy. Maybe you'd better not talk to me unless I ask you a question. Got that?" He still looked furious, but he just nodded his head. "Pussyboys and cocksuckers have to have girly tits, so we're gonna work on yours." I dug my fingernails in and pulled each nub as far away from his body as I could. He yelled again. I laughed. "Good thing you don't have close neighbors, isn't it?" He glared at me. I continued to pull and twist his nips for a while. Then I began to suck on them as hard as I could, alternating between them. After a while, they were red, and swollen. They were sticking out a lot more than the flat little nubs he had when I started. It wouldn't take long before he'd be ashamed to take his shirt off because of his enlarged nipples, and that was part of my plan to humiliate him. Then I began to suck the place where his neck joined his shoulder. I gave him a hickey there. I'd never done that to a guy but I wanted to leave my mark on Mike. Then I gave him one on the other side, up far enough that a shirt collar wouldn't hide it. "I don't know how you are going to explain those, boy, but that's not my problem." He looked as if he was about to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. MC: The bastard looked so absolutely self-confident. As he stood there in his red A & F tee shirt, khaki cargoes, and sandals, his blond crewcut shining in the sun, he seemed to be totally secure. He must have planned this, arranging for an investigator to follow dad and take that picture. He must have known what he wanted to do with the picture all along. I always thought Seth was a sort of airhead jock. You know, like he was the second string quarterback on our high school team. He was never quite fast enough or smart enough to be the best. But he had planned this out. I found myself admiring his cunning while I thought of ways to kill him. And I never would have guessed he was gay. But he had to be, right? How else could he make himself suck on my nips? He looked at his watch and asked, "What were you going to have for lunch, boy?" "There's deli roast beef in the fridge for sandwiches." "OK, let's go to the kitchen, and you can make me a sandwich. I might even let you make one for yourself. Gotta keep up your strength, after all." He chuckled, obviously very pleased with himself. We went to the kitchen where he sat at the table while I, still naked and very embarrassed, made sandwiches for both of us, stacking the slices of beef high. I sliced a tomato and got out lettuce and mayo, too. I wasn't hungry, but I figured it was best to keep him from getting pissed with me. I asked if he wanted a cola, and he asked if we had beer. So I opened a can of beer and set it in front of him. "You know, Mike," he said as I wondered why he gone back to using my first name, "you'd better have a beer, too. I think you're gonna need it. And, hey, I shouldn't have hit you out there. I'm not going to hurt you unless you make me do it. I want you to be a happy slave boy." He grinned at me. I knew enough not to retort to that. I opened a beer for myself, thinking he was probably right and that I'd need it. He sat and ate his sandwich. "Why don't you kneel here beside my chair and have yours?" I knelt. He set the beer down on the floor beside me. "I could pour this in a saucer, but that would be for punishment. Since you are being good, I'll let you drink it out of the can." When we were finished, he stood up and said, "I've got to take a leak. C'mon." He went out of the kitchen and I followed. He headed for the living room, looked around, and went into the dining room. "This looks good," he said. "That's a nice oriental rug. Kneel down and face me." I was puzzled, but I knew I had no choice but to do as I was told. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick. "Now, Mike, you wouldn't want of my piss to get on that nice rug, would you? So you need to keep that from happening." Oh, God! He meant I had to swallow his urine. My stomach gave a lurch, but I nodded, opened my mouth and waited. "Good boy, Mike! You're learning your new role pretty quick." He aimed more or less at my face and cut loose. I had to lean forward a little to catch it. It was warm, bitter, disgusting, but I swallowed as fast as I could. Mom loved that rug, and it had cost more than we could afford. But the big problem would have been to explain how the piss stain got there if I had missed any of his stream. So I did the best I could. By the time he had finished I thought I was going to hurl, but I managed to keep my queasy stomach under control. Some of his piss was running down my chest, but not enough to get on the rug. "Okay, boy, wipe that up with your hand and then lick it off." I did. "Boy, you know those drops of piss that always stay on the end of your dick?" I nodded. "Well, I want you to clean mine up." `Here we go,' I thought. I think I sighed as I leaned toward him. He grabbed me by the hair, tilted my face toward him, and said, "None of that, boy. You don't make any noises without my permission." Then he pulled my face toward his dick. Disgusted, I licked a drop of piss off the end. He let go of my head. It was a bizarre moment, but as I knelt there I thought what a good-looking guy Watkins was. I had always disliked him, but he was handsome. Sort of northern European looking. Blond, blue-eyed, he was a popular guy with the girls, but I don't think he had ever dated any one girl for very long. I always assumed that was because of his arrogance. He had looks and money, and he let everybody know it. "Okay, pisslicker, you can get up now. Let's go back out to the patio." I'd been naked all this time and had almost forgotten about my nakedness until he put a hand on my ass and stuck a finger in my crack as we walked. Just as a way of showing his dominance, I suppose. It sure as hell felt weird. Demeaning, you know, to have some guy's finger in a place that private. SW: When we got back to the patio, the sun had shifted so we had some shade. I kicked off my sandals. "Now, boy, you can take off my clothes." I raised my arms, and he pulled my tee over my head and off. "Kneel," I commanded. He sank to his knees in front of me. "Take off my shorts." His hands were shaking as he unfastened my belt and the button of the cargoes. They continued to tremble as he unzipped my fly and the shorts dropped to the cement. I had been freeballing, so I was now standing naked in front of him. My cut cock was semi hard. I looked at his nipples, which weren't as puffy as they had been before lunch. "Woops! Gotta tend to those. Stand up." When he did, I alternately pinched and pulled on them until they were more purple than red, and very puffy. When they were big enough to suit me, I told him to kneel. "OK, boy, it's time for you to pleasure me. Have you ever given anybody a blowjob before?" "No way!" "Watch the attitude. Just answer the questions. Now, have you ever had a blowjob?" "Yes." "From a guy?" "No." "Well, you know what feels good. I want you to suck me, doing what you think would feel good. Make me love it. You don't want me to get bored with this and go look at what is stored on my pc, now, do you?" He seemed to know that I didn't really want an answer to that question. Instead, he glared up at me, but he hesitatingly put his tongue out again and licked the tip. "Put it in your mouth, boy, and watch the teeth." Before long, he was doing a passable job. I knew it was his first attempt and cut him some slack. The secret is to get him to like it. "Not bad. You are now a cocksucker, you know. You can never cross back over that line. You have sucked dick. And you're going to keep on sucking my dick." MC: I was grossed out at the idea, but it wasn't as bad as I thought. Seth had had a shower recently, and his dick tasted like soap, along with, of course, a sort of male taste. I guess he tasted like guys smell. I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate on making him feel good, since I didn't see any point in pissing him off. His cock was about average, six inches or so, and not too fat. He actually encouraged me, though it made me sick that he kept taunting me by calling me "cocksucker." "Not bad, cocksucker. You're a fast learner. Soon you'll have to learn to take me all the way, but for now just do what you're doing. More tongue. Lots of spit. Yeah, that's the way!" SW: He seemed to be getting into it. Oh, he'd glare up at me once in a while, but he was careful about his teeth, and he did use more tongue and spit when I told him to. As they say, guys give the best head because they know what feels good. So here's Mike being, like, totally degraded, forced to suck my dick and hating it, hating me, but doing a pretty good job of it anyway. Go figure. Soon the feelings began to take over, and I quit thinking about Mike. I had been saving up a load for him for a couple of days, and I knew I was going to blast in a moment. "Listen up, boy. I'm, uh, gonna come soon. But I'm gonna pull out before it comes. Gonna mark you." He looked up at me with a puzzled expression on his face and then went on sucking and bobbing on my pole. When I felt myself coming, I did pull out and spray my big load on his face and in his hair. "Now, cocksucker, just leave that there and let it dry. I'll tell you when you can wash it off. Right now, it will remind you that you are my boy. Hey, you`re half hard, by God! Didn't know you were a faggot, Cronin. Look at you. You have the beginnings of a stiffie from sucking my cock! Now, clean it up. Make sure there's no cum on it." Hey, I didn't really think I had converted the guy into a queer. Yet. I think there are all sorts of reasons for that hardon. He may have been getting off a little on being dominated. Some guys do. But I wasn't going to pass up the chance to humiliate him, was I? He looked down at his partly-filled cock and blushed. Good, let the bastard suffer. "Look at you. What a faggot! You've got my cum all over your face and hair, and you have the makings of a hardon. I always knew you were queer, Cronin. So, let's get on with your training. Stand up." Even though he was in great shape, he was a little wobbly as he stood, partly from kneeling so long, and partly, I suppose, from being shook up. I worked on his tits some more because I really wanted to make them swell, stick out, look like a fag boy's tits. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer and sucked on each tit for a long time. When I was finished, they really were obviously bigger, purple, almost sagging a little. He groaned once or twice while I was sucking on them, but when I warned him to be quiet, he quit. "Lie down on that chaise lounge over there," I commanded my new slave. He looked resigned as he did what I told him to do. Of course, he was face up. I guess the instinct to protect his ass was pretty strong. But he had done just what I wanted him to. I squatted over his face so that my ass crack was just above it. "Now, boy, you are about to become an asslicker. I want you to lick my asshole. Clean it up good." He hesitated at that, as if he was weighing the pros and cons. I reached down and grabbed his balls and twisted them enough to make him yell. "Okay, boy. You know you have to do this, so you'd better get with it. Lick my ass!" MC: I really felt like I wanted to die. Seth had shamed me by making me suck him off and then he had cum all over me. I wondered what could be worse. Then I realized he'd probably fuck me before all this was over. But it had never occurred to me he'd make me do something that gross. I didn't know whether I could make myself do it, even for my family. I thought about Dad, and how I felt like never speaking to him again and at the same time wanted to protect him from the publicity. Then I thought about Mom and how she hadn't deserved any of this. So I took a deep breath and stuck my tongue out. I touched it to one side of his crack, a good distance from his hole. It didn't taste bad. Like I said, he was at least clean. I began to move the tip of my tongue slowly in a circle around his hole. I had heard of rimming, of course, but I never thought I'd be doing it. He moaned like it felt good. I suppose it would, come to think of it, though I still had trouble imagining anybody touching me in such a private place. "That's good, boy," he said. "Now, tongue my asshole. Stick your tongue in it. See how far you can get that tongue up that ass!" Surely he wasn't serious? Could the degradation get any worse? Again, I hesitated. I couldn't talk. In fact, it was getting hard to breathe as he kept his ass planted on my face. But he twisted my balls again so hard tears came to my eyes, so I did what I never thought anyone could do. I put my tongue on his hole and licked it. There was some muskiness there, but it was mostly the soapy flavor of the rest of his body. I licked again, and each time I did, he sort of jumped. I don't think he had ever had anyone do this to him, and it was obviously turning him on. "Hey, faggot, that's a talented tongue you've got there. You must have done this before!" I shook my head no, keeping in mind I couldn't talk. That must have tickled, because he giggled. "Well, then, if you haven't, you are a natural at it. A born ass-licker!" I groaned at the description. I thought for a minute about my dad and wondered how he would feel if he could see what I was doing because of him. Come to think of it, maybe he did this for fun. Maybe I should just tell Seth to fuck off. But by now, he had me by the balls, figuratively as well as literally. He could tell people what he had made me do. He hadn't been taking pictures or anything, but if he accused me, some people would be bound to believe him, whatever I said. And, of course, I really had done these sick things. Sick or not, I realized that they hadn't been as disgusting as I had expected them to be. That thought really shook me up. I continued to tongue Seth's ass, hardly aware of what I was doing as I wrestled with the idea that I wasn't as turned off by all of this as I should have been. And that was a scary thought. Seth stood up. As he turned to face me, I noticed that he had a full-blown boner. Evidently I had done a good job. "You're a quick learner, boy. I can't believe you haven't done that before. You've got to be a queer! Wouldn't your high school buddies be surprised to know what you've just been doing? I assume you have friends at State. A guy with those famous looks would have to have a bunch of girlfriends. Maybe some guys hankering after you, too. Or do you have some boyfriends back on campus? I think you must have. You're too good at licking ass and sucking dick not to have had practice. What if word got back to your buddies and girl friends what you've been doing this afternoon?" I started to protest that he had promised, but he held up his hand to stop me. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I promised. Just don't forget what could happen if you don't do what I say." I was still lying on my back on the chaise, afraid to move until he told me I could. "OK, boy, go get me a beer. And you can bring one for yourself." SW: Cronin got up off the chaise, stretched a little, and walked off toward the kitchen to get the beers, dick and balls flopping as he walked. I took a good look at his ass, too, because that was my next target. I knew I hadn't broken him yet. He must have been really sick about what I had made him do. The look he gave me as he went toward the kitchen wasn't as full of hate as the ones he had been throwing my way. More like he was puzzled. He looked puzzled again when I told him to sit down and drink his beer. I was trying to keep him off balance, never sure what I was going to do. As we drank, I studied him, looking him up and down. I wanted to make him self conscious. "Those tits of yours are coming along. We'll have to do another session with them." "Here," I said, handing him my beer can. Go get a bath towel or a beach towel and you can throw this away while you're in there." He walked off toward the kitchen with the cans and came back right back with a big towel. "Ok, boy, ya done good. Put it down there beside that chaise. Then come over here." I stood up. When he got to me, I pulled his nipples out as far as I could, and he moaned. Then I squeezed them, and he moaned again. But I just wasn't getting the effect I wanted, so I had a perfect reason to suck on them again. Mike's moans turned from moans of pain to moans of relief, maybe even pleasure. I really applied a lot of suction, dividing my time between the two of his nipples. I was really getting into it, and his cock began to swell a little, I noticed. I licked and sucked long enough to have the bitch boy getting pretty hot. His cock wasn't standing up, but it wasn't hanging down, either. And it was definitely longer than it had been. "Hey," I said, "now we need some lube. Got any KY? " "No." "Your folks probably do. Go look in the drawer of their bedside table." "Would suntan lotion do?" "Watch it, boy. You're not allowed to talk. But, yeah, it's your ass. Suntan lotion will probably be ok. Got some around close?" He nodded his head yes. "Go get it." He jumped up, went into the kitchen, and came right back with a tube of suntan lotion. "Now, boy, spread out the towel so we can both kneel on it. Then rest your body on the chaise." I slapped his ass cheeks hard a half dozen times. He grunted after the first slap, and then was quiet. His butt was turning bright red. "Listen carefully, slut. This is an important part of your training. When I fuck you, I want you to enjoy it. I want you to get so that you don't feel right unless my cock is in your mouth or your pussy. In a few minutes, you won't have an asshole anymore, you'll just have a pussy. But you'll need to have yourself lubed up before I fuck you, or it's gonna hurt a lot, especially at first. So, here's what I'm gonna do. Don't ever say I'm not a good master." MC: I soon felt his fingers in my ass crack. He had coated them with lotion and was just running them up and down the crease. Nobody had ever touched me there before, and I was surprised to find how good it felt. Then he began to tickle my assring with one of his fingers, and I jumped. "Easy, boy," he laughed. "You are probably telling yourself that you don't want that to feel good. But you like it, don't you?" When I didn't respond, he slapped my butt again several times. "Answer me, boy!" "It tickles." "Yeah, right. It's gonna tickle a lot more than that." He took his hand away for a minute, and I felt him squirt some lotion on my pucker. "Now, boy, you are going to lose your cherry to me. That virgin ass is going! And you'll never be able to make it virgin again, never be able to get your cherry back. AND, Mike Cronin, you'll become a pussyboy, my pussyboy! The son of our illustrious district attorney is an asslicking, cocksucking, pussyboy! One last chance. Do you want me to go away? I will, you know. Of course, the media will get that picture, plus any more my guy can come up with. But it's your call. Do I go on? Do I go IN? Do I invade your shit chute?" I figured I was already committed, so I nodded my head for him to continue. Good little pussyboy knows not to talk unless absolutely necessary, so he merely nods, yes, knowing full well it means he's going to get fucked. God! Again, I didn't know whether I wanted to kill Seth or my father -- or both. He began to push gently with his finger. My sphincter instinctively clutched, and for a moment we were at an impasse. "Hey, boy, I'm gonna get more than this finger up there, one way or the other. It will hurt less if you push against my finger like you were taking a dump. Try it." Wondering how he knew that, I did, and suddenly his finger was all the way inside me, up to the third knuckle. He let me rest a minute, and then he began to wiggle the finger around. Doing that, he hit a spot that made me see stars and feel like I was going to cum. I realized that he must have found my prostate. So that's what all the fuss was about, huh? I must have groaned, because he laughed and said, "See, you're just a pussyboy like I said. You love this, don't you? You sound just like a bitch in heat." Then he took his finger out. I felt my ass muscles grip it to try to keep it from withdrawing, and I think I must have blushed. I was so embarrassed. I was afraid I WAS becoming a pussyboy. He was putting lotion on a second finger, and soon he had both of them inside me, scissoring them around, hitting my nut often, making me wiggle my ass and groan. I tried SO hard not to groan or give him the satisfaction of knowing what he was doing was driving me crazy, but I couldn't help myself! When he took those two fingers out, my ass felt empty. But he soon had a third finger in there. This time it hurt a little, but I was so eager to have his fingers back inside me, rubbing my nut, I didn't even mind the pain. I was filled with shame because, though I shouldn't be liking this, it felt so good! "Oh, you are a little whore, boy. You're taking this too well to be straight. Sure you haven't been giving that ass to somebody? One of your girlfriends use a dildo on you? Or are you the fag I've always suspected? Been giving that ass to some guy at State? I wouldn't be surprised." I hated this bastard, but I couldn't control the feelings he was giving me with his fingers up my chute. I thought I'd cum any minute if he didn't quit. He quit. And when he withdrew his fingers, I think I groaned from disappointment. "Patience, you whore you. I'm gonna stick you with my ramrod. Just let me get lubed up." Was I becoming a whore? I wanted something up my ass to fill the void left when his fingers were removed. This was all so wrong, but I needed, wanted him to fuck me. Though I despised myself for feeling that way, I couldn't help it. "Okay, boy. My fuckpole is ready for your pussy. Tell me honest, now, you want this don't you? Tell me what you want." "I'm afraid it will hurt. Go easy, please." "You are a pussy. Does that mean you want me to fuck you like the pussyboy you are? Tell me what you want, cunt!" "Call me whatever you want, you bastard. This is your party, so just get it over with!" "Bastard, is it? Sooner or later, Mikey, I'm gonna make you sorry you said that. But right now, you're gonna get your wish. Remember, push out if it hurts." It hurt. His cock was bigger than his three fingers, and longer, too. So I pushed out. He could have rammed himself in, I suppose, and knowing how much he seemed to hate me, I'm surprised he didn't. Since he kept saying he wanted me to like taking it up the ass, I suppose he went slowly so as not to hurt me any more than was necessary. Anyway, after a lot of little shoves and some resting, I felt his pubes against my ass. He paused a minute or so to let me get used to it. It felt full, but after the first couple of minutes, it wasn't really too painful. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. He took that as his signal to go ahead. So he began to fuck me, very slowly. "Next time, pussyboy, I'll put you on your back, so you can take it like the slut you are. But I don't want to look at your face right now. You are just my fuck object, got that?" When I didn't say anything, he slapped me sharply on the butt a couple of times, and said, "I asked you a question. Got that?" I nodded my head yes. When he returned to his slow movements in and out, he began to hit my prostate again, and I was in heaven. I didn't want to be. I was mortified that he was making me feel that good, but I loved it. And I didn't want him to stop. It didn't go on nearly long enough. "Fuck," he said, "I'm gonna cum." I thought he'd just cum inside me, but he pulled out. I immediately felt empty and somehow deprived. God help me, I wanted his dick back in there! What had I become? Or had I always been, as he said, a latent queer? I refused to think of myself in the terms he was using, but I was beginning to wonder seriously about myself and what I was learning from this cruel bastard. Like father, like son? When he pulled out, he began pumping his hard red cock with his left hand. "Aw, shit, here it comes," he yelled. As he said earlier, it was good we didn't have any close neighbors. Then he erupted. He came more than he had earlier, which surprised me. And he caught it all in his right hand. "Here, boy. Sit here on the edge of the chaise. You haven't come yet, have you? I want to see you come. Jack your pussyboy dick for me. While you're doing that, eat this!" He held his right hand to my face. There in the rays of the late afternoon sun, he commanded me to eat his cum from his hand. I lapped at it with my tongue as I jacked my aching rod. "Yeah, lap it up like the bitch you are. Eat my cum, boy! Keep jacking yourself!" All the stimulation my prostate had gotten made me come quickly. When he saw I was about to shoot, he made me catch my gism and eat it, too. He made me lick between his fingers and clean his hand thoroughly. Then he made me lick his cock, which tasted pretty bad because it had been up my ass. Then he put his clothes back on. "See ya tomorrow, bitch boy. I'll be back in the morning. Don't bother to put any clothes on. Oh, and I want you to shave your ass, your pubes, and your balls when you are in the shower. It will be a lot worse for you if I have to do it. I'll bring some tweezers along in case you forget." He chuckled. "Bye, slut. Pleasant dreams," he said, taunting me. I sat there after he left, wondering what had happened to me. I had dried cum in my hair and on my face from his first load. I had the taste of his second load plus my own in my mouth. My nipples were purple, swollen, grotesquely distended. My cock was oozing some cum I hadn't managed to catch, and my ass was dribbling whatever was in there, his precum and the suntan lotion, I suppose. I wanted to die. I wanted to kill my dad. I couldn't decide whether to tell him about any of this when he got home. What I wanted most, though, was the feeling I had when Seth had his dick up my ass. That's what really scared me. (To be continued.)