Date: Mon, 8 Sep 2014 08:58:53 -0700
From: Sven Svensson <swedishjockboyxxx@yahoo.com>
Subject: TEACHING THE BULLY A LESSON

Teaching the Bully a Lesson

This is a story about teenagers having initially unwilling sex with another
teenager.  If you don't enjoy that kind of thing, read something else.

Biff was scared.  He was mostly naked, his hands were tied with cord, and
one end of the cord was looped around a pole that was in the middle of the
abandoned warehouse, Biff himself bent over a carpenter's bench.  Around
him were seven boys he recognized.  Five of them were youngsters whom he
himself had called faggots and homos and queers.  The other two, much to
his amazement, were from the high school's football team, a running back
and a tight end.  What the fuck was that all about?

Biff was 16.  He'd been a bully and a hooligan all his young life, often in
trouble at school, often beating up younger and weaker kids, often taking
away their lunch money, smoking when he wasn't supposed to, drinking
alcohol when he wasn't supposed to.  Biff's dad was a hopeless drunk who
got angry when he was in his cups and took his anger and frustration out on
Biff's mom, Biff and Biff's younger sister.  True, life had gotten easier
the last couple of months, because Biff had finally grown up and bulked up
enough to stand up to his old man, and just the previous week he had broken
his dad's nose with a well-aimed punch.  But that had only led to his mom
getting slapped around some more, and in his own anger and frustration,
Biff had been particularly nasty to kids at school when the teachers, many
of whom were scared of him, weren't paying attention.

They'd been lying in wait for him at the front door of the abandoned
warehouse when he'd come by on his way home.  Biff had struggled mightily
and furiously, but within a couple of minutes he was subdued, seven pairs
of hands had ripped off his wife-beater T-shirt, unbuckled his kick-ass
belt buckle, yanked his jeans down, and torn off his skanky boxer shorts.
He was left with his shit-kicker combat boots, but his jeans around them
made his feet more or less immobile.  He had tried kicking backward, but
that had earned him a slap on his ass that hurt and hurt bad.

"What are you assholes doing?!"

One of the nerds appeared in front of him.  What was his name?  Kenny?  A
wimp, not a kid, big glasses, always hanging out with girls and whispering
with them.

"You've been calling us faggots for years," Kenny told him, his squeaky
pansy-ass voice shaking a little bit.  "You're right.  We are faggots.  We
like to have sex with other boys.  And now we're gonna have sex with you."

"The hell you say!"  Biff struggled against the cord, but only succeeded in
drawing it tighter around his wrists.  And the next thing he knew, there
was something in his asshole.  Fuck!  It felt like a finger.  Biff wasn't
entirely unfamiliar with that kind of prodding, having discovered himself
some time ago that one of his own fingers up there could make his orgasm
more powerful when he jacked off.  Some shit about his prostrate, he had
heard somewhere.  Not that he knew what the fuck a prostrate was, it just
felt good.  Masturbation was basically Biff's only outlet.  Nice girls
steered miles away from him, and skanky girls reminded him too much of his
old sad-sack mother.  Biff had gotten to the age of 16 without ever getting
past second base with a girl, and so Mrs. Johnson and her five daughters
were his release when his hand wrapped around his cock.  At least he wasn't
a pencil dick, he figured.  It had never occurred to him to measure his
cock, that would be way too faggy, but it was a shade over seven inches
long and fat, too.

"This is mah fingah'," he heard from behind him.  "Next it's gonna be mah
cock."

Shit!  Biff knew that voice.  It belonged to Tyrone, one of the football
players.  Tyrone was one of the few black kids in the rural town where Biff
lived, and he was uber-black, as dark as coal or ink, big, hard muscles not
only on account of all the weightlifting he did for football, but also
because he and his eight brothers and sisters lived on a farm outside of
town, and all of the children were expected to pitch in with the farm work
just as soon as they could stand up.  Only once Biff had made the mistake
of calling Tyrone a nigger.  The next moment he'd been flat on his back,
spitting out a couple of teeth and bleeding.  He hadn't even seen the punch
coming.  And Tyrone was a queer?!!

"Don't even think about it," he snarled, but he realized that there wasn't
much force in the snarl.  Christ on a handcart, how had he gotten himself
into this situation?

And then the finger disappeared from his asshole with a pop, he heard a
spitting sound behind him, and the next minute his whole body was ripping
apart.  Jesus fucking Christ, it hurt!  Biff had no idea how big Tyrone's
hog was, but it felt like a two-by-four.  He howled in pain and felt sweat
running down his face as the big cock began to slide in and out of his
bunghole.  Biff looked up to see the five nerds standing in front of him in
a semi-circle, all of them with their dicks out, all of them jerking their
fucking pricks to see him cornholed like that.

"I'm gonna kick your fucking ...", but he got no further than that.  One of
the nerds stepped up and slapped him across the cheek.

"Fuck you," he said.  "You need to be taught a lesson, Bartholomew."  Fuck!
Nobody called him by his given Christian name, even his mother had learned
that he was Biff, dammit.

And then Biff felt something else.  First it was warm breath, and then it
was a tongue on his cock.  And then his prick was engulfed in warm wetness.

Biff wiggled his hips as best he could to get his dick out of the faggot's
mouth.  The five nerds were in front of him, and that meant that somehow
the other football player, Zak, had gotten between his legs.  Fuck again!
Zak was a golden boy, running back and backup quarterback on the football
team, straight-A student, blond, blue-eyed, with perfect, white teeth, and
with girls hanging on him in hordes.  He was a faggot, too?

"Stop it," he protested.  "Ain't no faggot suckin' on my cock!"  But his
dick remained inside the slurping mouth, and it was with horror that he
felt the mouth disappear and the voice announce, "He's getting a hardon!"
And then the mouth was back.

Biff hadn't cried since the age of eleven, when he had sworn that nobody
was gonna make him blubber like some fucking girl again.  But he felt like
weeping now, at the realization that yeah, he was getting wood and yeah,
the first blowjob that he had ever gotten in his life was feeling pretty
damn good even if it was a guy and not a chick doing the blowing, and fuck,
he was getting used to the big black cock that was invading his virgin
asshole.

The mouth disappeared again.  "I'm getting a pint of precum here."  And
then it was back.  He felt a hand on his balls, squeezing gently, stroking
and caressing.  He could feel big swinging balls hitting him between the
legs each time Tyrone's massive prick rammed into him.

"Ah cain't hold on much longer," Biff heard the black man grunt behind him.
The rhythm of the slamming picked up, he heard a gasp behind him, and then
he felt seed, hot, spurting cum shooting into his tight, ravaged virgin
asshole.  Fuck!

The mouth disappeared again.  "Can I have sloppy seconds?"

"Be mah guest."  The huge cock slipped smoothly out of Biff's chute, and
Biff realized that suddenly he felt empty.  But not for long.  Another
spitting sound, and this time no finger first, the cock rammed into him
with the power of a freight train.  Biff's brain instantly calculated that
this prick wasn't as thick as the previous one, and then it told its owner
to enjoy himself.  Actually the meat sliding in and out of him was feeling
excellent, and damn if he didn't want his own cock, which was as hard as he
had ever known it to be, back in someone's mouth.

He didn't have to wait long.  The mouth that enclosed his manhood involved
a big old tongue and big fleshy lips sliding across its throbbing surface.
Jesus on a pogo stick!  So this was what dirty faggots did with each other?
They put their pricks up where the sun don't shine, and they sucked on the
piece of him that was used for pissing?  Fuck!  And right then and there
Bartholomew "Biff" McBride knew that he was never going to tell anyone
about what had just happened to him, not only because that would involve
telling everybody that he was a pussy-ass for getting himself fucked up the
backside, but also because surely one of these guys would tell everybody
that he, Biff, had had a boner throughout the process and that he, Biff,
was about three seconds away from jetting a load into the slobbering nigger
mouth that was on him.

"Stop, Tyrone," he heard himself say.  "I don't wanna cum yet."

The mouth disappeared and he heard a dark chuckle underneath him.

"Well, well now.  Appears our boah's got hisself to likin' what we gots to
give `im."  Biff felt a hand squeeze his throbbing cock hard.  "This boah's
got hisself a big old hardon heah."

The next thing Biff heard was "Gosh darn it, I don't think I can wait any
longer," and the next thing he knew, one of the nerds had come forward, and
his dick and masturbating fist were right in front of his face.  Biff
turned his head away as far as he could, but two seconds later his cheek
was dripping with the sperm that ... fuck, that Vietnamese kid, what was
his name – Tron?  Dong?  Kong? ... had shot all over his face.  That set
off a chain reaction.  One after the other, the nerds took their turn
whitewashing Biff's mug.  Kenny, who had never in Biff's experience said
boo to a goose, as his grandmaw would put it.  Big load from his fucking
pencil dick.  Jack, pipsqueak of a 15-year-old, 80 pounds dripping wet,
getting some of his cum in Biff's eye, making him blink hard.  Hank, who
behaved more like a girl than most girls, his dick surprisingly fat, and
his balls surprisingly capacious.  And Eliot, son of the local Baptist
preacher, never without a button-up shirt and tie, only now the tie thrown
over his shoulder and his ... Jesus, but the kid had a cock on him!
... cockhead exploding with hot, white semen.  Biff felt helpless as the
jizz slipped down all sides of his face, getting on his chin, some of it
getting into his mouth for all his efforts to keep his lips clamped.
Fucking Eliot even slapped his spermy cock on his cheek when he had stopped
cumming.

"You guys are turning me on wicked," Biff heard Zak grunt behind him, and
then, for the second time in his life, a cock rammed hard into his asshole
to irrigate his guts with baby-making juice.  And then he heard Tyrone's
voice again: "Y'all don't deserve this, `cause `y'all is one motherfuckin'
redneck asshole, but here goes."  And then the mouth ... the ever-loving
goddamn nigger mouth was all over his cock again, Zak's deflating prick
still inside him deep, and Biff couldn't help himself.  That big tongue and
those big lips and that hand on his balls and that cock up his ass and the
five limp, scummy dicks that were in front of his face all combined to make
his whole body light on fire, and Biff McBride had his first-ever orgasm in
the presence of another person straight into Tyrone Wilson's mouth.  It was
the mother of all orgasms.  Biff thought that it lasted for a full minute,
and he would have wanted it to last for a full hour if he had had the
option.  He grunted and groaned and writhed and sweated like one of the big
hogs down at the country fair, and he cummed.  Jesus have mercy, he cummed
like a stallion, and he never wanted it to stop.

And then the mouth disappeared from his hog, Zak's dick slipped out of his
ass, and then Tyrone appeared in front of him, big and black and scary
looking.

"Y'all been actin' like some kinda motherfuckin' fool," the black man told
him.  "Ain't these guys never done nuthin' to y'all to make you treat `em
like fuckin' dirt.  Y'all mark mah words, heah?  Y'all ever give these kids
a hard fuckin' time, and next time me and Zak here gonna double-fuck
y'all's ass."

Biff hung his head.  Only half an hour before he would have put these guys
down with every word he had in his limited vocabulary, and if any one of
them had made a peep, he would have twisted that kid's arm behind his back
to make him squeal and given him a noogie.  Well, maybe not Tyrone, but
certainly the nerds.  What the fuck had just happened to him?  He felt
dirty.  Never once in his life had Biff McBride for a single solitary
second thought about anything sexual with another dude.  Never.  Faggots
did that kind of thing, and Biff wasn't no kind of faggot.  No fucking way.
And yet here he was, with two loads of cum up his asshole and a passel of
cum dripping off his chin, and he had gotten himself a boner, and he had
allowed a guy to suck that boner, and he had gotten an orgasm out of it
that he would remember for the rest of his life.

While Biff was pondering this, his seven captors got themselves cleaned up
and dressed again.  Tyrone produced a scary-looking knife from his backpack
and cut the cord that had bound Biff tight.

"Two thangs," the football player said.  "Y'all ain't never gonna talk to
nobody about this.  Ain't nobody gonna believe yoah fool ass anyway.  And
lemme say it again – y'all leave the boahs alone, heah?  We got you
onct, we can get yoah ass agin."  And then then they were gone.

Biff stood up.  His jeans were down around his ankles, his underwear was on
the floor, ripped to pieces, his wife beater was on the floor and ripped
almost in half.  He pulled up his jeans and buckled his belt and pulled on
the wife beater.  The left shoulder immediately slipped off, revealing one
of his pecs.  Biff felt battered, and his ass felt strangely empty.
Somehow he made it home in one piece, and he was relieved to find that his
sister was off somewhere with her friends, his dad was nowhere to be seen,
and his mom was snoring on the sofa.  Biff went into the kitchen, rooted
around in the refrigerator and got a big carrot and grabbed the bottle of
corn oil that his mama had on the counter next to the oven.  He went into
his bedroom, closed the door, stripped off, got into bed, and oiled that
carrot up and shoved it up inside his ass.  He got cum all over his face
again, but this time it was his own, one hand fucking his ass with the
vegetable, the other hand jacking his bone meat, and his brain awhirl with
what had happened to him that afternoon.  And as Biff McBride spanked the
monkey, he realized that his cock was hard for the fucking that he'd
gotten, it was hard for the five pairs of balls that had emptied out on his
face, and above all it was hard for the big tongue and big, fleshy lips
that had brought him up to the mountaintop and then up to the stars in the
sky.  His second orgasm of the afternoon was even better than the first, if
that as was even possible.

The next day, a Monday, Biff skipped school to visit a friend out in the
back woods who could make him a fake driver's license to make him two years
older, 18.  The day after that he skipped school again and rode his bike
over to the county seat, where there was a recruiting office for the
military.  A week after that he was in basic training at Fort Jackson,
South Carolina.  And a week and two days after that, another recruit, this
one from Mississippi, gave him the eye in the showers, and next thing Biff
knew, he was getting another blowjob from a fella, this time his cock
coming out of his uniform trousers and nobody ripping up any of his
clothing, but the blowjob just as good as before.

Calm settled over Fort Alamo High School.  Zak and Tyrone, who were
boyfriends and lovers, didn't speak to the nerds in the hallways, as had
always been so and would always be so.  Kenny, Jack, Hank, Eliot and the
Vietnamese boy whose name was actually Canh, didn't mind.  It was the way
of the world.  They'd all been surprised when Tyrone had come up to them
one day in the lunchroom and whispered that he had seen Biff harassing them
and thought that Biff needed to be taught a lesson, and all five of them
had jacked off countless times thinking not so much about Biff as about the
two studly football players who had come to their rescue.  None of them
ever spoke about what they had done, though.  There was no need to.