Date: Mon, 27 Jul 2020 14:28:09 +0000
From: whipped@protonmail.com
Subject: Dylan in the Alley Part Two

The following is a work of fiction. It isn't based on real events or on
real people. You must be eighteen to read this story and all characters
in it are eighteen or older.

Never be disrespectful to another person in real life. Never treat
another person this way and always use protection.

I use offensive language for fetish purposes and because it turns on some
readers. If you don't like that, stop reading now.

If you enjoy this story, consider donating to Nifty.

"Dylan in the Alley"

Part Two


Dylan

Mr. Johnson didn't say much at first.

He just gripped me by the arm and said, "Car, now."

I ran ahead of him and my mind was racing. What did he see? What was he
going to do? Would he tell Chad? My grandma?

He clicked the car unlocked and then got in.

He still didn't say a word or look at me.

Then he started driving. The wrong way.

It took me about five minutes to realize we were going to the campground.
We had been there a few times last year. It was just a few acres of land
he bought to set up a tent and camp on.

But he still didn't talk to me.

He drove the car down the path until we were pretty far in the woods and
it hit me then he might actually kill me.

I had heard him talking about beating up some fag in school and he talked
about queers and stuff like they were disgusting.

Then he turned off the car.


Bruce

I turned off the car and finally made myself look at Dylan.

He looked the same, but he wasn't. He was a fucking queer. A faggot. A
cocksucker. A fucking teenage dick eater.

A few hours ago, I thought he was a young man I could be proud of. Now I
had seen he was just lips and an asshole for some nigger's prick.

He was a human dick ditch. A waste of all the time I spent on him.

He was the trash everybody had said he was. I should never have wasted
time on him.

But I had to know some things.

I controlled my voice and anger as well as I could.

Then I asked, "Have you touched Chad?"

He shook his head.

I looked at him.

He whispered, "Never, Mr. Johnson. I promise."

And I believed him. My whole body relaxed. I hadn't realized how tense I
had been. My boy wasn't infected by this shit. I hadn't been responsible
for some queer kid turning my boy into that.

Chad was safe.

I spoke measured and asked, "How did that happen back there? Why would
you do that?"

Chad replied:

You know I don't have money. I found out I could sneak into the back
twice a week when they did inventory and get stuff out of the dumpsters.
They throw out books, old toys, all kinds of stuff. Mr. Davis caught me
stealing it all and told me he would turn me in to the cops unless I blew
him. Then blowing him turned into getting fucked when his wife wouldn't.
And now I have to take care of him anytime he sees me or he says he'll
turn me in. It hurt a lot at first, but it also made me cum.

I couldn't help but laugh. The kid had let his mouth and eighteen year
old ass get plowed as part of a scam.

But the cumming from it still bothered me.

I told him, "That ends now. I will talk to him. You will never touch him
or do any of that queer shit again. Today never happened. We never talk
about any of this again. Ever. You understand? This day, it never
happened. Nobody knows."

He nodded and I looked at him. I pictured him naked, kneeling, cum
running down his legs, jizz leaking out of his young tender asshole. I
remembered his puffy pink lips wrapped around that thick black prick. How
he gagged and choked and took it.

Then I unzipped my pants.

Dylan

I froze when I heard Mr. Johnson unzip his pants.

Then he growled, "Clothes off, faggot."

I was stunned. He couldn't mean...he was like my dad. I had just told him
I wasn't really queer. Not really.

He looked at me and said, "Now, Dylan."

I pulled my shirt off and sat it in the seat next to me. I took my tennis
shoes off next. Then I unzipped my pants and slid them down to the
floorboard.

My underwear were wet from cum and so I hadn't been wearing them. I was
naked in the car. Completely. In front of Chad's dad.

Bruce

I had seen Dylan naked or almost naked plenty of times. He ran around the
house in a towel or his underwear all the time.

We had been camping and bathed in the freezing cold river together.

But this was different.

When I saw him naked before, he had been a teenage boy and my son's
friend. Now, he was naked as a nigger's dick ditch. As a cocksucker. A
faggot. A queer. His skinny pale little body still had dried cum on it. I
knew when he leaned over that his little asshole would be red and puffy
and full of leftover nut.

He was a poor man's cunt. A hand replacement when the wife wouldn't put
out.

I decided to get more comfortable and unbuttoned my pants. Then I slid
them and my underwear down to the floor.

I reminded myself this wasn't really Dylan anymore.

Then I said, "Show me what you can do, boy."

And I pulled his head down.

Dylan

I looked at Mr. Johnson. His dick was mostly soft and maybe five inches.
He had big nuts too. And he had a lot of pubes and even the part of his
stomach I could see was hairy af.

He had been like my dad for years.

But he gripped my head tight and pulled it down.

And then my face was there. I closed my eyes, wrapped my hand around his
dick, and opened my mouth.

Bruce

I moaned instinctively. Mary-Anne hated sucking dick and it'd been too
long since I had a wet mouth sucking a load out of my cock. She saved
that for birthdays and Christmas or when I bought her something nice.

I slowly fucked Dylan's face and it felt good. Then I opened my eyes and
realized there was really no reason to play nice.

I said, "Hands down, faggot."

Then I used my left hand to bury my dick in his throat pussy and hold it
there as he bucked and made gagging and choking sounds. Then I let him up
to catch a breath. Then again.

Meanwhile, my right hand started stroking his back. I liked how taut and
smooth and young he looked. He could almost be a girl from this angle. He
had one of those long faggoty haircuts. I imagined him for a second as
Gillian, the cheerleader who lived next door.

It made my dick throb in his throat.

Then my right hand went to the real prize. The closest this faggot had to
pussy.

I shoved my finger into his asshole.

It squelched with leftover juices, but still was tight enough to suck my
finger in. Then I shoved another finger in.

And the kid moaned. His mouth and throat vibrated against my dick as I
finger fucked his asshole.

My hips started automatically bucking up into his mouth as I finger
banged the shit out of him.

And I realized I was about to nut. I was going to cum down his throat.

I shoved his head off my dick. He looked up at me for a second, tears
running down his eyes and nose snotty from the gagging and choking.

I pressed the automatic seat adjuster button in my door. His seat lowered
until it was almost completely flat.

I kicked my pants the rest of the way off.

Dylan had sat up when the seat started moving and was now just looking at
me.

He asked, "Can we go?"

I shook my head.

Then I said, "Not unless you want this to be the last time we talk or see
each other. Get dressed if so. Otherwise, get on your belly."

He thought about it, too. I could see it in his eyes. He almost even
asked me something. Then he laid facedown in his seat.

I climbed up on the seat. I looked down at him. It was hard to believe
this was the same kid I taught to play horse or took skiing.

I told him:

I fucked your cousin Tammy in highschool. Stupid fucking bitch thought
I'd marry her and would spread her legs anytime I needed a fuck. I had
her do some of the nastiest shit to me I could imagine.

I spit on my very hard dick. It had dried up a little from the blowjob.

Then I continued:

I wasted a lot of time on you, son. But I guess that's all Corleys are
good for. You're all just worthless white trash. Fuckholes. Aren't you,
boy?

He didn't reply, so I gripped the back of his head.

Then I asked again, "Aren't you?"

I watched his face. I could see the conflict on it. The confusion. He had
trouble adjusting to this. I had convinced him he wasn't trash the same
way I had convinced myself he wasn't trash.

Then he said it.

He whispered, "Yes, sir. I'm trash, sir."

Then I fucked him.

Dylan

There was nothing nice or sweet anymore in the way Mr. Johnson saw me. He
pushed his dick in me balls deep and just held me still as my hole
spasmed around his thick cock.

Then his whole body was on top of me. I could smell his cologne and
armpits, but mostly I just felt his dick in me.

He humped hard and deep and ignored me like I wasn't even there, unless
he wanted to humiliate me. Every few minutes, he would spit or drool on
my face or slap my ass or call me a name.

His deep voice would growl:

You fucking cunt...worthless piece of shit...this is all you're good for,
boy...going to nut in you good... should have turned you out a long time
ago.. this is all you're good for, boy...you're a cum dump...fucking
trash...

And part of me liked it. His dick was as big as the guards, but I had
already been fucked and my ass was looser so it hurt less.

And I felt every thrust.

His cock rubbed the inside of my dick or something in my asshole like Mr.
Davis never had. He had hit it some, but with Mr. Johnson he hit it
everytime.

It was like being jacked off from the inside. I reached for my dick once
and he pushed my hands back down.

All I could do was move my ass and thrust back against his cock to try
and get him deeper and pounding the right spot.

And then he did it.

He pulled up a little and wrapped his hand around the back of my throat.
And he just started hard and deep thrusting. Slamming into my hole with
no mercy as he used his grip on my throat to hold me still.

And I came. With him in me.

He felt it too. My hole started spasming around his dick and his load was
sucked out of his balls as he came into me.

He grunted once, then collapsed on top of me.

Bruce

The kid was a good fuck. His teenage boy asspussy started sucking the
load out of my cock when he came.

I had never felt anything like that. Ever.

But he was still a faggot.

I lifted up off him and got back to my seat. I hadn't taken my dress
shirt off and one of the buttons had popped off when I got too excited
and started pounding the little shit. My whole body was drenched in
sweat, but I still pulled my underwear and pants back on and lit a cigar.

Then I told him to get dressed. His hair was covered in sweat too and
clinging to his face. For a minute, I pitied him. I thought about
apologizing.

Then I saw his cum all over my car. He came from this.

I repeated then what I said when all this started.

I said, "This day never happened."

He nodded and said, "It never happened. None of it."

I remembered what my dad used to say.

He'd say, "The only good faggot is a dead faggot."

But he never had Corley pussy.