Date: Wed, 02 May 2001 16:59:28 -0400 From: Jaybob 23 Subject: good boy 3 Warning: If depictions of hard-core sex featuring consenting adult men turns you off, don't read the following story. The characters are all fictional, not depictions of any real persons, living or dead. Just as the sun sank beneath the horizon, I heard a loud, almost unholy commotion in the distance, as though the gates of Hell were opening and Armageddon had begun. The sky became dark and a boiling cloud of dust was pouring across the sky, getting closer and closer. I thought it must be a massive tornado sweeping through the open fields and headed directly for me. I pulled wildly at my chain wondering where I could hide. I raised my hands to cover my ears from the deafening pitch, and in a flash seven or eight low riding motorcycles came tearing through the bushes and skidded to a stop in front of me. Before the dust had settled, the lead biker dismounted. There was something about his appearance and demeanor that was both familiar and terrifying. He wore no helmet and no shirt, and his body was deeply tanned, almost crimson. Without being told, I knew instinctively to avert my eyes. The smell of sweat, exhaust, and the scorching heat of the road was all around, choking me. "Well, well. What do we have here fellas?" the biker spat in my direction. "Looks like old Earl is pimping again, trying to save the farm. You his new whore, boy?" The biker ambled over to the shed with a bow-legged shuffle and picked up the nearly empty coffee can. "Maybe you're not such a hot piece after all," he said dropping the can and sidling up behind me. The dangerous timber of his voice whispering in my ear raised the hair on the back of my neck. "Well now, I tell ya what we're gonna do, faggot. We're gonna give you a chance to make some real money. Something to make your daddy proud. You interested?" I couldn't find my breath to answer him. He turned to his biker buddies and laughed at my obvious terror. "All right son," his voice softened somewhat but still held the threat of unspoken brutality. "No need to fear. We're just throwing us a little party and you're the guest of honor. Come on and take a ride. We'll make it worth your while, to the tune of, say, five hundred bucks." "Oh, no sir. I couldn't leave," I stuttered, at last finding my voice. "My master would be angry." "Don't you worry. Earl and me go way back. We'll leave a note for your man. When the party is over, we'll bring you home. What'd you say cocksucker?" The moment I nodded my head in agreement, I feared I had made a dangerous, possibly deadly mistake. Without warning I was wrestled to the ground by two of the bikers as a third covered my head with a burlap sack. Just as quickly they bound my hands and threw me across the lap of one of the bikers. They must have cut my chain, because a second later I felt the vibration of the motor and the sharp brambles cutting my flesh as we rode through the brush. I struggled as best I could, but it was no use. I could only imagine what I looked like--hog-tied, bare ass in the air--speeding down the highway. Eventually the smooth pavement gave way to a rutted dirt road. When we stopped and the sack was finally removed, I found myself in a terrible predicament. Although there was no light in the room, I could tell I was in some sort of rustic cabin, no doubt miles from anything. My hands were now tied to a hook high above my head. My feet barely touched the dusty floor, causing me to arch my back and stretch painfully. Despite the darkness, I could discern a couple of the bikers setting up for the party. A length of cloth was quickly secured around my eyes, throwing me again into complete darkness. All I could do now was wait and listen to the comings and goings of loud, boisterous men. Occasionally I felt the scratchy hand of one of the partygoers, feeling my taught, swaying body. One or two men seemed to take particular pleasure in striking my ass and watching me swing around like a prize pig at a slaughterhouse. As the stench of beer and whiskey steadily filled the room, their abuse escalated. I felt the thick, pointed edge of a thumb poking up into my ass, then a hand squeezing at my balls, twisting and pulling. Hot fingers in my hole were replaced with cold beer bottles and other objects I could only guess at. A beer bong was filled and refilled, forcing gallons of alcohol down my throat, and later, up my ass. My body was now sopping wet with sweat, beer, and tears. A sharp pain in my nipples and the touch of a cold chain against my chest told me someone had brought heavy duty tit clamps to this party. Every few minutes someone would tug on the chain, causing my cock to rise up like a perverse puppet on a string. This caused the men in the room--there must have been two dozen or more by now-- to cheer and tug harder. Finally I heard the lead biker speak up above the din. His words chilled me. "All right boys, if everyone's ponied up their dough, we can have us a good old-fashioned, cock-sucking, ass-drilling, ball-draining gangbang." My hands were unhooked from the ceiling and unbound, and I was thrown to the floor. While two men forced me up onto all fours with the toe of their boots, the lead biker unwrapped the blindfold and kneeled in front of me. Even if I had been brave enough to do so, I could not look up to his face; he placed one hand firmly on my head, keeping me staring down. His jeans were at eye level though, giving me a perfect view of a long, fat bulge clinging to his left leg. "Now faggot, before we crack open your sweet boy-hole," he said evenly, "we're gonna give you a chance to go home." Several of the men grumbled and complained, but he silenced them with a wave of his hand. "You can leave right now, bitch . . . without your master's five hundred dollars though," the biker began to chuckle cruelly. "And of course it is pretty dark outside, so you might have some trouble getting the thirty miles back home. Earl might be pretty pissed at you for running away and taking his twenty bucks, too. But if you want to leave, just say the word." I was scared shitless but I knew this sadistic fucker had me right where he wanted me. There wasn't anything I could do but give in. To further convince me, he unzipped his jeans and hauled out his cock. The sight of this biker's hard shaft made me forget my fear. It was as smooth as ivory and had a ruby-red head that flared out deliciously. Someone switched on a bright flood light, illuminating the silver horseshoe-shaped ring that hung from the head. I had never seen a pierced dickhead before, and this one was even more unusual as the blunt ends of the ring had been fashioned to look like little skulls. A shimmering drop of cum dangled from one skull, inviting me to lick it. The effect was alluring and frightening. It was too good to resist. I leaned forward and tasted the tip of that now-raging prick, thus giving these vicious bastards my full consent to rape me. "That's the way cocksucker," he said leaning into my mouth so I could slurp it down. "Gonna give you so many loads tonight you'll be leaking cum for a week. You want me to fuck you first boy?" "Yes, please fuck me," I begged, wiggling my ass in the air. "I'm taking my turn now, fellas, so I can lube the faggot up proper for you." No one uttered a word as he lined his cock up to my quivering hole. The cabin became eerily quiet and I shuddered at the still calm of the moment and at the anticipation of being fucked hard. Then that cock drove through me in one ass-ripping plunge. I screamed out in pleasure and pain, and another cheer went up from the men. "Gonna have you feeling good real soon faggot," my captor grunted as he plowed my dry ass into submission. "Nice hole, good and tight. Glad I got to it first, before all these other big dicks tear it wide open." He threw the kind of fuck that drives a boy wild. Long up-strokes that have you praying he won't take out that last millimeter of cock, then a deep hard glide down into your guts, with a firm push in the end. His scorching hot hands clenched my hips like a vise, preventing me from rolling around on the floor. His demonic longdicking was so sweet that my tongue was hanging out of my mouth and I was gasping for breath with each meaty thrust of cock. In my excitement, I began to clamp down and release rhythmically on the biker's burning hot prick. The way the flared head plucked at my ass made me drool, and to my amazement, my own dick soon exploded, pouring out a thick stream of cum and piss. Without missing a beat, my fucker reached underneath me, scooped up my load, and spread it on my crack. Then he scooped up a dirty handful from the floor and let me lick it off his fingers. "Don't worry faggot, that's just an appetizer," he laughed. "Now open that hole for my cock, you fucking whore." Soon he was climbing up my back, plowing me wide open with his hard hunk of meat, bludgeoning me from the inside. This biker fucked maniacally like a man who hadn't been hung up inside a young boy's pussy for a long, long time. Too soon I felt his blistering strokes become short and quick. His PA dug sharply into the folds of my ass as he jammed it in and out. My moans turned to cries, not for forgiveness or salvation, but for more abuse. At last he drove his spurting cock down, emptying that sweet cream from the root of his balls. He unloaded so heavily that cum began pouring from my ass even before he had dislodged his thick log. "Not bad faggot," he said menacingly, "for starters." Again he presented his cock, now coated in his cum and my ass juices, for sucking. The skull ring was gone, and I knew where it was now lodged. But before I could protest, I felt another hard cock banging against my wet asschute. The damn floodlight was so bright in my eyes that I couldn't see the man fucking me, but I didn't care. I was thankful whoever it was hadn't wasted any time. This cock was much thicker, but also pierced, and the biker attached to it fucked just as savagely. "Give it to him hard. This cocksucking faggot likes it a little rough, don't ya boy?" The lead biker ordered as I gobbled away at his slimy dick and sweaty balls. The second biker fucked like a madman, brutalizing my ass. When he pulled his cock out completely I whimpered like a bitch in heat. Then he shoved it back in with a sharp thrust that made me yelp. As soon as the man at my rear had dumped his load, he demanded I clean him off too. I had scarcely heard the loud "plop" as his cock pulled free when another big, ass-hungry biker had taken his place. And so it went that my ass was passed around all night. As soon as I felt a hot flood of cum flowing into my guts, I was soon plugged with a fresh cock. Most of these horny bastards insisted I suck them off after they finished nutting in my pussy. A few of them fished up slick handfuls of warm spew from my swollen ass lips and fed it to me. And a few even managed to reach their hand inside my ass as they fucked me, essentially jerking themselves off in my rapidly expanding hole. The more pounding I took, the more I needed. I begged for more cum, more fucking, more cock. By now I was no more than a machine powered by cock, a cheap fuck toy requiring constant lubrication with slippery manjuice. When all the men had finished getting their rocks off--and my exhausted body was slumped on the floor in a heap--the bright flood light was finally switched off. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I could barely see thirty or more burly bikers lounging in worn armchairs and hunched down in the corners smoking and drinking. Once again, in the midst of this cum-laden ecstasy, I found myself thinking of Earl. It was inconceivable to me that of all the big dicks that had now used me as a cum dump, my master's was not yet among them. "We're not done with you, cocksucker," said a massive, sweaty biker as he pulled me from my daydreaming with one quick tug from his thick, muscular forearm. As I knelt before this faceless figure I imagined it was Earl that I was kneeling before, preparing to service his solid pole and his big bull balls at last. The thought made me so happy that I let out a sigh. "Please let me suck you, sir," I whispered. "Please feed me your big dick." Instead of granting my request, the biker began to piss across my face. The hot acrid splash against my tongue brought me back to my senses, but I wasn't complaining. Happily I watched as that swinging man tool poured its savory broth into my throat. "That's the way boy, drink it all down," he groaned. Two more men joined in, emptying their used beer into my gaping, gulping mouth. After the men had finished using me as a toilet, they pushed me onto my back and began fucking me all over again. It was still so dark that I couldn't see their faces as they gang-raped me, but at least I could now reach up to touch their hard, undulating muscles as they fucked at tonight's open, sloppy hole. While they plundered my pussy, someone began roughly pulling at my tit clamps until I was squealing again like a stuck pig. Cum was now squirting from my raw, ravaged hole, coating the ground as I writhed on the floor. With every gooey thrust I slid a foot or more across the room. Two men held my legs to keep me from slipping away from whatever cock happened to be buried up to its balls in me. My eyes rolled back in my head and I felt myself floating, pinned to the earth only by the beefy spike spearing in and out of my asshole. I was so lost in the overwhelming sensation of cock-in-hole that I took no notice of the wailing of distant sirens. I did hear the sudden commotion all around me, and I thought I heard someone call out "Mercy!" It seemed a strange command, especially as I was loving every moment with these rutting, big-dicked animals. Only when I realized I was no longer happily plugged with a thrusting, spurting dick did I open my eyes. For a moment I was alone in the pitch black cabin, on my back in a greasy pool, my arms crossed around my upturned legs. My empty ass was now two feet off the floor and my puckered, dripping orifice was opening and closing frantically as if trying to speak, as if to say, "More cock, more cock." Then the cabin door crashed in, bathing my twisted, cum-covered body in flashing red lights. From the silhouetted figure in the door I heard this soft, almost whispered exclamation: "Holy Fuck." Thanks to everyone who sent positive e-mails and many (graphic) suggestions for this installment. I wish I could have used them all. I need your input for part 4. Don't be shy. e-mail: jaybob23@hotmail.com.