A homoerotic tale by Anthony Thomas [Ant-Boy], that's not for children
Chapter Five
[If you're classified as a child in your state please go away and come back when old enough to read about such things as M-to-M sex, S&M practices, Water sports and all the rest. For all others – I hope you enjoy]
Of course my body could take more, in fact within a few weeks was doing so, and also enjoying some of the abuse, but that night it was almost all I could do to sit under a shower, get dried and dressed before being assisted back to my room and falling into bed and a deep sleep. Of course I woke after a few hours sore and somewhat bruised with a massive piss hard to discover the weight ring still dragging round my balls. Just pulling on an old pair of shorts I made my way down the dim night lit corridor to the toilets. Thinking to be alone I stood for some moments at the urinal squeezing my cock through the tin material, enjoying the combined tensions of a full bladder and an erect pulsating cock. Even my weighted bruised balls felt pleasurable.
`Can I give you a hand?'
I swung round in surprise to see a lad of about my own age but taller, nearly six foot, dark hair including chest and groin from which hung a decent sized half erect cock and big grin on his naked body, standing by the open door of one of the sit downs.
`That was quite a show you and John put on earlier,' he continued whilst walking toward my heavily blushing body. `That's why I'm still up though to tell you the truth I'd about given up hope of anybody coming in to play.'
`What do you mean?' I recovered myself sufficiently to ask.
`Didn't John tell you or was he intending to keep you all to himself? This set of washrooms are where the gay lads hang out and where we come to play if the evenings been a washout. Problem is that after your little scene earlier I think just about everybody so inclined got off on watching you.'
I felt myself blushing again as he reached me and turning mu body back to face the urinal slowly pulled my shorts over the enclosed erection and, as they fell to my feet, placed his hand round it at the tip. Then, placing his body behind mine so I could feel the crinkly hair at his groin brush against my arse cheeks brought his other hand round to cup my weighted balls. I felt his cock shudder and start to stiffen between my cheeks. I knew I couldn't take another shafting like the one John had inflicted earlier and told him so, also that I was going to piss. He didn't remove his hand.
It was strange looking down to see someone else's hand holding my cock as it let go, not just holding it but cupping the end and getting soaked as I'd often done to myself.
Then he squeezed the end tightly, cutting off the flow even though my bladder was still attempting to empty itself. As my upper body bent forward in protest his cock somehow just managed to slip slightly through the entrance to my arse hole and so it continued. He'd let the flow free and then suddenly clamp it off and each time my body objected by pushing back from his hand he responded by sliding his cock further inside me, not so thick or long as Johns thank goodness but quite enough for this not so long ago virgin to feel.
It felt good. I knew my arse was sore and stretched and bruised, after all it was my arse and I knew what I felt, but even so it felt good to have it filled again and the hands alternately squeezing and freeing the end of my cock to get covered in piss knew what they were doing so that soon there were piss soaked hands examining my face and piss soaked fingers invading my mouth. Once he was fully inserted his hands returned to my waist and pulling my body more tightly against his groin he forced me slowly down to the floor until, finally, I was laying flat on my stomach against the cold dirty tiles with his hard cock still stuck up inside my arse.
What I'd not considered until he started enjoying himself thrusting back and forth was the fact that, once on the floor, there was nowhere else for my body to go. Every thrust was felt from my head to my toes as he ground my groin against the unyielding surface. The fact my cock was still leaking merely applied some slight friction between my body and the floor and in order his thrusts didn't separate out bodies he had one arm looped around my neck restricting my breathing. In theory it should have turned me off but in fact the very opposite applied.
Every thrust of his stiff cock up inside my body was accompanied by a tightening of his strong arm around my neck pulling our bodies even closer together if that were at all possible and every thrust seemed to squeeze more piss from my own cock to be felt soaking my chest and stomach. He may have been slightly less well endowed than John but still large enough and our position and my bruised hole more than made up for that fact, he was hurting me with every thrust, hurting up my arse, my body against the floor, his arm around my neck – and I loved every moment. All I wanted was more.
I attempted to squeeze my arse cheeks together in time with his thrusts and he just laughed and switched to a faster and, somehow, harder fuck. The fingers of his other hand curled into my sweat dampened hair and pulled my head back, then twisted it round to meet his own bending toward me.
`If you try to kiss me I'll get my friend there to beat you after I finish.' He nodded his head to the side and glancing up as much as was possible I caught a glimpse of sandal clad feet and beige cotton chinos that seemed half familiar.
His tongue could just be seen flickering through the gap of his half open mouth and of course mine greedily pulled against the hand in my hair to meet it. At first there was a slight salty taste I thought was familiar but that idea soon flew as every iota of brain still in operation was too busy attempting to combine our respective mouths and tongues into one. His teeth nibbled, not too gently, on my lips and his tongue face fucked my mouth in much the same way his cock was my arse. I managed to repay the invasion by sliding mine under his and run it along the top of his teeth before we both seemed to submit at once and out tongues entwined as we swapped spit and did our best to run the other out of oxygen.
Of course we finally had to break apart or pass out and as I finally looked into directly into his face I saw the slightly evil glint I'd come to recognise when John started experimenting to see how far he could go with dildos or nipple clamps and suchlike on my body.
`You don't taste of piss anymore,' so that was the salty taste that seemed familiar. `We'll have to freshen you up.'
Half lifting, half dragging me by my hair he pulled me over to the shower unit that was quite large enough to hold everybody now in the room with six showerheads over a slightly sunken well. Somehow, without me noticing, we'd been joined by five others around my own age or slightly older. Most of them I thought I recognised from the pub, a couple at least from the scene John had put on with me earlier.
`Are you sure this will be OK?' I nodded, why speak if not required. `Do you want a gag?' A smile accompanied this question. I nodded again and returned to the cubicle he'd appeared naked from a while back, reappearing with a leather belt round his neck and some sort of strap in one hand and, thank god, poppers in the other. The strap turned out to be a stiff rubber ring he forced in my mouth jamming it open and the straps fastened off behind my head. `Better than a gag, allows you to breathe and get face fucked but keeps the noise down.'
With that he pushed me, admittedly unresistingly, to my knees and then promptly unleashed a virtual flood off piss straight into my face. The ring had another function I discovered, I had to swallow or choke as a fair amount of his stream was aimed straight into that open hole. So I swallowed, - and got soaked head to foot before he pulled me back up, stretching my arms over my head to grab hold a metal support bar.
`If it gets too much for you just let go the bar,' was all he told me whilst holding the poppers bottle under my nose. I inhaled deeply of course.
I had no idea what to expect apart from the belt I could still see hung over his shoulders, just hoped I would hang on long enough to clear the frustration built up inside me. It wasn't just my erection standing out so proud, I could have taken care of that myself after all I'd been doing so for some years now. It wasn't the fact I felt hornier all over than I could ever remember due mainly to my present situation. No, it was much more than that I realised. The past couple of weeks under John's tutelage had opened up the possibilities that I might be able to live some of my fantasies, not only that but that there were others who'd be more than happy to help me do so.
I'd been fucked properly for the first time a few hours ago by John in front of a happy audience; could I take it to the next level? It certainly seemed to be an option here if I was really up to it.
I nodded to my abuser and took another huge hit of poppers, that one hit every synapse; I swear I could feel my nipples engorge and harden as the heat spread through my body, every nerve ending crying out for attention. He kicked my legs apart allowing my weighted balls to hang free. I'd forgotten about the weigh ring, forgotten how bruised they were, but it didn't matter. My mind was taking over and enjoying my body's abuse. All I had to do was close my eyes.
The hands making their way over my piss dripping body could never have been called gentle even though they took it reasonably easy to start with. I have no idea how many of the six pairs of hands were in use but at times it felt as if they all were. I heard people pissing into a container and a hand held my hair, pulling my head back while another slowly emptied it over my open gagged mouth, then slapped me hard back and forth. Others were digging into my nipples, slapping my straining cock back and forth, then transferring their attention to my balls and giggling at the moans erupting from my mouth. Fingers at my rear were no less assertive and after slapping my arse sufficiently for me to feel it heat up were used to forcibly violate my hole. If you think John's earlier attack and the one I'd been subjected to on the floor had left me loose you'd be mistaken, if anything I felt tighter and the fingers whilst not so long knew just how to make me feel them.
I was hurting everywhere but somehow, it still wasn't serious enough, I needed to have my body hurt, for people to enjoy abusing it, for my fantasies to be fulfilled. It was the poppers wafting under my nose that made me open my eyes, he was just standing there grinning, holding out his belt before my eyes.
`You ready for this then?' All I could do with the ring gag in my mouth was grunt. `Sure? Six strokes?' He supplied poppers again and I grunted.
Was I ready? I really didn't know but this seemed the perfect time to find out. I could always let go the bar if it turned out to be too much and it was what I'd been thinking about the last few weeks. Could my body take it the pain? My cock said yes but my mind wasn't quite so sure. Too late now!
I heard a whistling sound followed by a crack as a stripe of pain erupted on my backside. I half heard the gasps and suggestions from the audience to my abuser but they were drowned out by the strangled scream that flew erupted from my mouth accompanied by a shower of spittle. It was hell, much worse than I'd imagined, considerably more than I'd ever been able to apply myself. But I was still holding onto the bar above my head and even as my body swung back to a more vertical position the next stroke was applied, this time across my shoulders.
There wasn't enough breath left in my body to scream again, all I could do was moan and drool as the belt was laid across my back time and time again. Was it six strokes or was it more, it certainly felt like more, hell on earth and my body absorbed the hell and turned it into ecstasy. I've no idea what happened, maybe I passed out momentarily, all of a sudden I was hanging from the bar, my legs collapsed, somebody attempting to release my locked hands and lower me to the floor. My body was burning, not just my back and I knew, somewhere deep inside my head I'd finally about reached my limit. For now at any rate.
As I knelt on the floor of the shower unit slowly recovering my senses I could feel my body was being covered by streams of cum as the spectators to my abuse wanked off over my face and body. I made no objection to that, or the variety of cocks placed in my mouth to be cleaned after, certainly not to the streams of piss washing me down at the end. It just seemed the right way to finish off what had been an eye opening experience – well it had been to me.
I don't actually remember managing to get a proper shower, let alone dry off back in my room and go to bed. However, the next morning found me wakening to my alarm bruised and sore inside and out but, thankfully, clean and dry. Somehow I managed to get up and grab a couple of cups of coffee before John came knocking having heard from somewhere about my nocturnal episode and wanting to hear all about it. That's when he opened up about his own periodic evening excursions and the fact that people, or groups of people, were more than happy to pay quite well for young men like us who might be inclined to go that extra yard or so to please them.
[A reminder Ant-Boy has other stories on Nifty – look under Prolific Authors
Also he likes receiving comments/suggestions from any actual readers.