Date: Wed, 03 Oct 2018 14:43:33 +0000
From: whipped@protonmail.com
Subject: Throated in an Alley 2-3

Category:
Adult youth/Authoritarian

Do not read if you aren't over eighteen. All characters are eighteen and
over. This story is fiction and not based on any real events or people

Part three is actually from a rejected story I altered to fit here. That's
why it might seem a little different.

Part 2

Most people probably would have felt guilty after using a kid like that in
an alley. Not me. I felt like I did him a solid. A kid like that had no
real options other than using his body to make cash and I taught him a
lesson in how to take a throatfuck.

I figured the kid should have paid me for the lesson.

I didn't expect to see the boy again either. I had no intention of going
back to the shelter. I had done my time.

Then, a week later, I found myself right back there.

My wife had gathered up most of Robby's clothes, put them in garbage bags,
and ordered me to deliver them there as a donation. She and Robby were out
of town and I knew if I didn't do it today, I'd forget and never hear the
end of it.

I didn't even make it out of the car.

I guess there weren't a lot of high end cars like mine in the neighborhood.
The kid was knocking on my window before the car engine was off.

I unlocked the door and let him in.

The little fuck reeked.

He was in the same shirt and I doubt he'd showered since we saw each other
last. His hair was even more of a mangled knotted mess than before.

He looked at me and said, "A hundred bucks to blow you again?"

I laughed.

I looked in the backseat at the garbage bags.

Then I sighed. Fucking hormones.

I told him, "You smell like shit and your hair is a mess. I'm going to get
you a haircut, get you cleaned up, and then we can talk."

The next hour was pretty transforming. I took him to the salon my family
got their haircut at usually. I figured even if they told my wife, it would
just make me look good to her.

I had them give him the same cut as Robby. It was shaved on the sides and
sort of messy looking on top. It almost looked German.

It definitely helped get rid of the white trash vibe.

Washed and clean, his hair was actually straight and thick.

Afterwards, I took him to a higher end department store. My shopper picked
him up razors, shaving cream, a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, floss,
the bodywash my son used, some lotion, and so on. I grabbed some olive oil
in the cooking section. The kid looked distinctly uncomfortable when the
shoe salesmen recommended he have a pedicure. He looked even more awkward
getting one, but his feet were a mess.

Afterwards, I took him to a mid-level hotel. I had the porter carry the
garbage bags to the room.

Then I gave him his orders.

I said, "Shave. Everywhere. Every fucking inch. Then clean yourself
up. Inside and out. Do everything I say and you'll get more than last
time."

He replied, "I've never shaved."

Which I guess was true.

I went with him into the bathroom, took his hoodie off, and wet his
arm. Then I put some cream on it and shaved off the hair on that part of
his arm.

He seemed to get it so I left him to finish it himself. I left the door
open so I could watch.

I undressed myself and enjoyed the feeling of being naked for a minute.

Then, I dumped the garbage bags out on the floor.

My wife had washed everything before bagging it and it was at least two
years of my son's clothes. Everything from briefs and boxers to t-shirts
and sport uniforms.

I started sorting out the interesting stuff.

When the kid finally came out, I was ready for a fashion show.

His dick, btw, was actually a normal size. I figured he'd be five or six
inches hard.

First thing I did was throw him a pair of my son's briefs. They had cartoon
characters on them and were tight. I wanted to see how they looked on him.

I wasn't too impressed. His ass wasn't really that round and even smooth
his body was kind of flat and boring.

His nipples were so tiny they were practically invisible.

I asked him, "Have you ever wrestled?"

He shook his head no.

I showed him the starting position and then oiled him up with the olive
oil. It made his skin so slippery and shiny.

Then I pinned him. Over and over and over again. The feel of his wet smooth
skin against my beer belly and the way he fought and trembled under me got
my dick hard.

I could tell he was trying, but he was no match for me.

It made me feel strong and in control.

I pinned him the last time and just held him down as he bucked and fought
futilely to escape my hold.

Then I released him.

He was laughing and smiling and his face was flush.

I stood up and went to the floor. I threw him Robby's wrestling singlet. I
had coached my boys team for a while.

I told him, "Put this on and call me coach."

While he was dressing, I pulled out three hundred bucks and made sure he
saw the money and me putting it to the side.

He looked good in the singlet. Shing still with oil. Maybe I had a thing
for that, I dunno. I wrestled in college.

The uniform showed his smooth legs and smooth underarms. It was black and
red.

It looked good on him.

I sat on the bed and lit a cigar. The smell was strong and the taste alone
could get me hard. There was nothing like a good cigar.

I gestured for him to kneel in front of me.

Then I said, "Kiss my feet, son. And suck and massage my toes and feet,
boy."

He replied, "Yes, coach."

I still don't consider myself gay. I love and prefer women. But the site of
a healthy teenage boy on his knees, in that uniform, face down, kissing my
feet and toes definitely turned me on. It wasn't the sensation of my toes
in his mouth, but the fact he'd lowered himself to sucking a fat old man's
feet.

I had a nasty idea. Something my wife would never do. Something I only had
done once by a Tijuana whore.

I finished my cigar and put it out.

I leaned over, reached down, and pulled the boy up by his hair until he was
looking up at me.

I turned his head to the side and just looked at him. The cut and bath had
really transformed him. He was cute. He could have been any of my son's
friends.

I said:

Here is the deal, kid. To some extent, you got a raw deal. You should be
going to college or just fucking off and having fun or doing an
internship. You're not. What makes my dick hard is you humilating yourself
for me. No man should ever suck dick or be used like a bitch. That's my
turnon in this. A healthy kid like you doing nasty shit for a fat old
balding man like me. You understand?

He nodded and then said, "Yes, coach."

I continued:

I'm going to lift my leg and ass up now and I want you to shove your tongue
up my shithole. Most whores won't even do that. Not just lick it, but
actually wiggle your tongue inside it. I want to feel that baby face
pressed up against my ass. And jerk my dick while you do it. I'm probably
going to call you names and maybe spit or slap on you too because eating
ass is disgusting.

Then I spread my legs more and propped one leg up on a chair.

He didn't move.

I scooted my ass down lower and grabbed his head. I pulled it right up to
my hole.

I said, "You'll make three hundred, plus tip, if you're eager and go a good
job."

Then I felt it.

His tongue caressing my asshole. Then it pushed it's way into my ass.

If you've never had your ass eaten, it's hard to describe. The closest
comparison for me is the feeling when someone is tonguing the underside of
your balls, but times a thousand. The physical sensation alone is fucking
amazing.

But the mental shit.

When I could keep my eyes open and look down, I saw this handsome smooth
teenage boy in a wrestling singlet debasing himself by tonguing a fat bald
man's asshole. He made faces everytime he pulled off and I could tell how
much it disgusted him.

But he kept licking and tonguing me until I was rock hard.

After ten minutes, I couldn't stand it anymore.

I stood up and flipped him around so his head was against the bed.

Then I told him, "Open your mouth and throat and keep your teeth covered."

He was more ready for the throat fuck this time than in the alley.

The position I had him in let me treat his throat like pussy for real. I
bent over the bed once I was balls deep and just gripped and fucked his
head as he made gagging and choking sounds and convulsed. I wasn't a total
monster though. I'd stop and ask if he was okay every few minutes to make
sure I wasn't suffocating or killing him. His eyes were watering and his
face a sloppy mess, but he always gave me the go ahead.

Once I pulled off him and he looked so much like one of the kids I coached,
I hesitated. Doing this to one of them would be beyond wrong Then I
remembered he was street trash and this was a good lesson for him.

When I finally nutted, it was a fucking mess. My balls were slapping his
face at a hundred miles per hour and I just exploded. The first three loads
went right into his belly. Except for the parts which gushed out of the
side of his lips and nose. The last couple of shots I pulled out and
painted his face and body with them.

Robby's poor little singlet was covered in my nut and would never be the
same.

Something occurred to me then for the first time.

I had fed this kid my cum two times. Got him a haircut. Dressed him up. And
never asked his name.

I guess it didn't really matter.

I told him, "I'm going to stay here with you tonight. Sleep naked. I'll
fuck you in the morning. That ok?"

He nodded and undressed.


Part 3

Kid

I woke up feeling crushed. A meaty hand was covering my mouth and a heavy
man's body was on top of me. I hadn't ever been this close to an older fat
man before and I could smell him. The scent was sweat and locker rooms and
the way some men smell if they don't wear deodorant.

I started to panic, but then I remembered last night.

I had agreed to this.

I relaxed a little.

I'd be okay. Scary or not, he wasn't going to kill me or anything. He just
wanted to get off.

I had survived the blowjobs.

He pressed so close to my face i could smell his morning breath and feel
his stubble and then said:

I'm going to remove my hand. You need to say I can fuck you or this
stops. Think about it for a minute. It won't kill you to get fucked, but
I've had girls bleed before from my dick up their ass and the only lube I
have is that olive oil. I'm not going to hold back and you'll never be a
real man again. If I fuck you, I'm going to treat you like trash. Street
trash. This is your last chance to back out. Decide.

He released his hand from my mouth, but I could still feel his weight on
me.

I whispered, with my throat bruised from what his dick did to it last
night, "I need money. I can take it."

The next thing I knew there was a pillow pressing down on the back of my
head. He wasn't trying to smother me, but just keep me quiet.

Then I felt his hard dick for the first time. It was between my butt
cheeks, just rubbing back and forth. Then I heard him spit.

And it became all too real. His dickhead pressed into my hole and I found
myself biting into the sheets and crying. It felt like my ass was being
ripped apart.

He pulled his dick out for a second, sat up some, and I realized I had been
holding my breath. I let it out.

He laughed and said, "That ass is gold."

Then I felt something different. It wasn't his dick. It was his fingers. At
least two of them. I groaned as he pushed them up my butt. It hurt almost
as bad as his dick and he went so much deeper. It was intense.

Then the fingers were gone and he was laying back on top of me.

He said, "Had to loosen you up or I would have broken my dick off."

This time, he didn't stop until he came.

It was like I couldn't catch my breath. He pushed in and got further on the
first thrust than ever before. Then he pulled out and jabbed harder and
deeper. He was slamming into me harder than I'd ever fucked my hand.

I was certain he was killing me.

It felt like a metal bar being slammed in to me deeper everytime. Hard and
merciless and ripping me open.

Then he groaned and said, "All seven inches up your cunt, Robby. Time for
fun."

My name was Andrew.

He removed the pillow and placed his face next to mine. I felt him wiggle
and smush his dick inside me.

Something changed then.

Some of the pain went away and I felt something different. It still hurt
when he fucked me, but it felt like I was getting jerked off from the
inside out at the same time.

I realized my dick was leaking. I wasn't even hard, but it was leaking. I
started wiggling my ass trying to get it to hurt less and feel better.

He noticed.

He said, astonished, "You like getting dicked like a whore. You're a
goddamned fairy."

I tried shaking my head, but it was like that was a cue for him to pound it
out.

It was non-stop for at least twenty minutes. He slammed me without mercy
growling things like:

Take it, faggot. I should have used your asshole the day I met you. I wish
you had a real cunt. That's a fucking good ass. You're a worthless little
bitch. You're lucky I don't beat the shit of you. You'll never be a real
man now.

The dirty talk and pain kept me crying. He was breathing hard and
heavy. But my butt started feeling so good, I got hard. And his strokes in
my ass pressed my dick into the bed. My dick would move up and down and
into the sheets with every slam of his dick inside me..

And then I came.

I could feel my ass spasming inside.

Seconds later, he tensed and then said, "Fuck, Fuck,Fuck."

And he jizzed in me.

He laid on me for a second and then rolled off.



Older man



It took me ten minutes just to catch my breath. To say the kid was tight
would be like saying water was wet, but I hadn't had a fuck like that since
sixth grade. His fucking insides were like a silk velvet glove squeezing
and massaging my dick anytime I so much as moved a centimeter in any
direction.

When he came, it was fucking heaven.

And he felt good under me. Smooth and petite. Submissive.

Fucking him made me feel like a man again.

I pulled his cheeks apart to make sure he was okay. His hole was red and
stretched, but he wasn't bleeding. My cum was oozing out of him though.

I smacked him on the ass. Watched it quiver.

It was going to be a good day.

I loved doing charity work.