Date: Sun, 10 Feb 2019 14:47:53 +0000 (UTC)
From: bidaddy5@aol.com
Subject: Greyfriars Fun Chapter 2

Greyfriars Fun 2

That fuck went on for ages, until my arse had found the skill to allow the
thing to plumb my inner depths, past the rectum, shafting me literally, so
that my shit started to course down into my rectum to add its grainy greasy
stickiness to old cum and precum.

Maister began to tell me I was his thing now........I would obey his every
wish..........I would love being his sex plaything, and his friends would
enjoy my virgin body at his will.

Two friends were actively doing so as he whispered............Tam taking my
whole knob and balls into his slobbering mouth, and Kenny lapping at the
place where Maister's cock withdrew from my boycunt with generous
substances for licking, and forced its way immediately back in, spraying
shit and cum/precum into Kenny's licking gob.

After an eternity of screaming, bucking, writhing of my whole beautiful
body, commented on with lewd observations as I present first my tits, then
my back, then my flailing legs, Maister and I quickened our beats, our
heartbeats and his balls and mine began to bunch against our cocks, the
tube under our arses began to pulse, our cocks swelled to bursting, and
suddenly we both shot massively, and almost in unison, our yells
coordinated until we all subsided in a disgusting sweaty heap together into
the mattress whose reeking liquids gushed up under our sudden pressure..

A big dirty canvas sheet was pulled from the back of the grave, and I was
wrapped in it and it's pungent odour, yanked off the ground and carried
rapidly away with my head lolling out , up the now darkened graveyard to
the door of the sexton's house. I noticed that the gates were closed, but
there were no crowds in those days admiring the wee dog's statue, or they
would have been puzzled by three men, naked to the waist, lifting a corpse
whose head dangled. My dog met us with delirious barking, leaping up at the
bundle.

I was dumped unceremoniously onto a cold hard surface and the rough canvas
unwrapped, so that I lay expose in my sexy nakedness, juices leaking from
my well used boycunt, my head over the edge of the slate top, with four
guys, three half clothed, and the sexton in his rough tweed suit, even now
unbuttoning his flies and yanking out the biggest cock I had yet seen.

I was in the laying out annex, the canvas draped over the marble slab where
corpses were prepared for burial. The four gathered round me with their
cocks stiffening as I reached out and handled each one in turn. They began
to massage my whole body, played with my nipples, and reaching between my
thighs, fished in my hole for slime which they spread all over my receptive
body so that my pale skin was now shiny and somewhat tanned looking. My
face, hair, and mouth were not missed. I sucked on filthy digits and
swallowed the muck eagerly.

After a pause, when they admired their work, and commented on my dirty
ways, Maister's swelling cock brushed my lips as he took hold of my ankles
and pulled them back to meet my ears. The sexton, naked now, levered
himself up onto the plinth, and kneeling lifted my arse until he was
satisfied with my position. My cunt twitched and flexed as the sexton's big
wet knob nudged my still well lubed anus, and then plunged without
resistance into my bowels. At the same time Maister's big cock sank into my
mouth and down my throat.

I was shaken to my core by the force of the fucking which ensued. My bowels
felt as if they would rupture, but my prostate, already ravaged, reacted
nevertheless with shuddering delight.

Somebody was sucking my cock as I yelled with lust, held in place by
Maister and the sexton. By the time the fuck was over, Maister and the
other two had come in my mouth, collecting the overflowing semen and
smearing it over my body.

I came three times, my knob rising each time almost as soon as orgasm was
over, a fact commented on favourably by Maister, who felt it was excellent
in a new sex toy. I was proud.

However, the sexton's orgasm was fierce, devastatingly invasive, and
prolonged. His shouting obscenities mingled with the cries of spectators,
and my screams of ecstasy. I was exhausted.

Maister whispered in my ear that I had performed excellently, and that he
was well pleased with me. He said that we they would have to get me cleaned
up. The sexton brought a hose over from the corner, Maister turned the tap
on, and the icy cold water hit me with terrific force, so that I had to
hold on tightly to the plinth to avoid being swept onto the floor. No inch
of me was spared, the force of it in my mouth was irresistible and I could
feel water surge into my stomach until it was tight. Then he turned to my
arse, and filled it to bursting, when I was ordered over to the toilet
cupboard beside the tap. I had to sit and let the water gush out into the
pot. As I did so, I saw to my surprise what I knew to be a glory hole,
stuffed with wet newspaper, which I realised was all there was to wipe my
hole. I wondered who might use this on a regular basis, and thought
immediately of the hunky gravedigger, who was an ex pupil at my school, and
probably about the same age as me, although his body had filled out with
the hard work of digging the soaking earth. He was a foul mouthed rackety
boy at school, who played truant, but was always regular at swimming
lessons, when he played sexy games, humping and grabbing cocks in the
changing cubicles which surrounded the pool. The Maister usually smiled
indulgently when this happened. I was terrified of him, because my cock
would rise when he started, and I didn't want to be exposed by him, but I
never was.

Later, when he'd left school and become the gravedigger, I often saw him
wink and smile at the younger boys, grab his crutch, and sometimes, leave
his digging and walk off after a lad who moved down to the lower part of
the cemetery.

I imagined him sitting where I was, with the sexton's big cock coming
through the hole, and perhaps somebody's arsehole impaled on his wet
cock. Later, I was to find this was no fantasy.

I could only meet Maister on Saturdays. Just as well because my arsehole
needed time......The next Saturday, I met Maister at Bobby's statue in
driving early autumn rain. I was soaked and shivering by the time he
arrived and he took me into the sexton's house, disappointingly past the
big fire in his office, and into the icy morgue. The slate floor was
quickly wet from our clothes. He kissed me deeply and long, and as he did
so, took all my wet clothes off; lifting me shaking with cold and lust,
onto the mortuary slab with my pants down, dropping my shoes, and leaving
me naked as he sucked my very hard knob, and kissed me until I was passive
putty in his big hands, my wet body unable to resist as he pushed his
fingers up what he called my "wee boycunt", and smearing my fresh shit over
my stomach, and my forehead.. Under these assaults, I came quickly, and all
over my belly, which he proceeded to rub in.

As he did so, he told me I was to do charity work that day. Some needy
friends would use me to release their pent up frustrations. He ordered me
naked into the toilet stall, and told me to leave the door ajar so that I
could see what was happening. By this time, my shivering was almost
uncontrollable, and my cock was hard and wet again. To ease the shivering
and teeth chattering I was allowed to wank slowly.

A rough knocking at the main door announced the arrival of the first
candidate for charity. Imagine my horror and disgust when I recognised one
of the tramps who I saw on my way to school, hanging around the "spikes"
during the day. They all had to leave at breakfast and didn't' return until
5. I knew this man well, he often stood in the way of we boys, mouthing low
obscenities. He was an old Highlander, who always wore a dirty tattered
kilt of indistinct pattern. A torn filthy vest was all he had under an old
stained military jacket, with lapels unbuttoned and no fastenings. The
heavy rain had pulled his soaked kilt down so that it hung round his
arsecrack which could be seen under his short bumfreezer jacket as he
turned to speak to the first arrival. His feet were always in filthy rubber
boots. His face was always black, apart from the red fresh skin scars of
alcohol and his piercing deep blue eyes. His hair was long and unkempt,
matted in spikes; likewise his beard which was stained yellow below the big
red sensual mouth. He frequently smoked a thin cheroot, whose stink
surrounded him as he blew smoke in our faces. I was always fascinated by
him, a mixture of fear, disgust and lust. He would frequently lift his kilt
to show his big cock and balls to me. Now he was there in the morgue to
receive my charitable skills!!

The two others now arrived together. One, a tall man who wore a filthy old
dress suit and a once white shirt, always wore high leather boots into
which his trousers were tucked, giving him a raffish air. This was
compounded by a homburg which he wore at an angle, its brim pulled down
over one of his mad eyes. He obviously tried to shave from time to time,
and his four day stubble that day was dark and patchy. He always muttered
loudly and incomprehensibly, and his face was twisted so that his mouth
perpetually dribbled phlegm, which soaked his chin, and his shirt so that
his body hair was clearly outlined under the thin material. He reeked of
methylated spirits, which seemed to emanate from his pores.

This was horrible, but the third charitable recipient was most dreadful. He
was a small man, with a red pocked face, completely dressed in rags which
were absolutely soaked and hung from his emaciated body, showing that his
chest was also covered in pocks. By that age, I too had started a good crop
of what we called "plukes" which covered my back and chest as well as my
face.. He shivered from the cold, and scratched at his groin, whose gaping
flies, without buttons, showed his soaking long pubes and the top of his
thick dirty knob.

This man frequently used to shove himself against we boys, telling us what
he'd like to do with us. His breath was more foul smelling than the others,
like the sewers of the city, and his mouth was devoid of teeth.

Maister welcomed them with respect, despite the reek of their three
dishevelled bodies. He told them they would enjoy his new gift for them I
felt that this was not the first time this had happened, as their eyes were
all turned towards my hidden position. Maister strode over to the stall,
yanked open the door and told me to stand up. My knob betrayed the
excitement I felt, and the copious precum which had enabled my slow wank
dripped off the end onto the floor.

Their gasps if excitement were matched by my gasp of disgust as they surged
forward and grabbed me, pulling my exposed, filthy, stinking and obviously
excited body out into the room.  My shitty stink exactly matched the
combinations of their odours, and perhaps lessened the nausea I would have
felt. Sex energy overcomes all however, and their appreciative obscenities
made me shiver with pride.

They stood back to look at their new toy, and as they did so, I slipped on
the wet slate floor, and would have crashed down if they hadn't grabbed me.
As it was they had to lower me to the floor to avoid my weight unbalancing
them. My head was close to the dripping kilt, and as they grabbed my arms
and legs to lift me horizontally, the kilty swung me in under him so that
the sopping fabric rested on my chest, and I could sense that my head was
under what I of course knew to be a large knob and swinging balls. The
stench was overpowering, but I wanted his sex. They began to lift me, and
as they did so, my mouth touched the end of that stinking dripping
prick. The dripping was not only rain, but also precum, which I could taste
above the rank dirt.

My arms were hurting in their sockets and I cried out to tell them
so. Kilty crouched and grabbed me under my armpits and continued to lift
me. Meanwhile the other two had knelt down and shifted their grip so that
my legs were hanging over their arms, and lifted my, opening my thighs, and
presenting my boycunt upwards. A slobbering mouth fastened on my hole, and
a skilled tongue entered me, prompting me to moan loudly, the other mouth,
toothless, fastened on my stiff 6 inches. The smell of his breath was
disguised a bit by the wet stuff I was enveloped in, but the big cock was
swelling rapidly in my mouth, and as he lifted me, he buried the thing in
my throat, and my nose in his long snaggly pubes. My boycunt was now
pulsating with lust, and eager to take more, which was duly presented, the
heat of it vivid against my cold wetness. Now, thighs straddled me, and a
crusty arsehole descended on my steely pole. The three of them began then
to move me in such a way that all of my body was dealing with the crazed
sexual organs of the old men, all of my body was besmirched with their
filth, and very quickly, sperm was pumped down my throat, up into my cunt,
and from me into the ragged man's arsehole. Maister clapped ironically, and
announced Phase 1 was over. A rest was required. Whisky was served.