Part 1 of 3
"Hey, mister, do you have any loose change?" I looked at the little dark-haired cutie, probably in his late teens, and asked him why he needed money. "I'm just hungry. A couple of bucks should do it." Now, off the bat, I did not believe him. I must have given him a strange look because, with little pause, he comes back with, "For 50 bucks, I'll blow you." Boy, that was ballsy. I mean … I was just walking into the Home Depot, and ... Bam! … this guy thinks I'm looking for ... or … at least open to … sex? A "blow job" from … a man? Was I somehow telegraphing I needed that?
The stuff I was planning to buy here wasn't urgent, and I thought I might allow myself to be diverted to see how far this "kid" would go. After all, for me, it was a nothing-to-do, lazy Sunday afternoon. I thought about upping the ante to make it worth my while … or … scare him off. Either way was OK by me. I had nothing to lose.
"Na … my wife gives me great head. She's a pro, and she makes it interesting." I broke our eye-to-eye contact and turned to step away.
"Wait, mister, I can make it interesting, really." He paused as I faced him again and asked me, "How do you like it, man? I can be flexible. I'm good too." I don't think he was desperate, he just wanted to make a sale, and I was the one who was there to sell to.
I pretented to get angry with him, pointing my finger in his face. And then I began to reason with the lad.
“Look, my wife ties me up and then pretends to force me to eat out her pussy," I told the boy. "That's heavenly. I like to be tied up and 'forced'… like I have no choice. That's my favorite pleasure. But … you don't have a pussy. So there is no point in your offer." I continued to look at him. I rubbed my chin as if I was thinking it over. "Sometimes, just for variety, my wife and I act out a game called cop and whore, where I handcuff her when she's in her underwear, and I make her suck my prick. OK… so they're only toy handcuffs, but we pretend. I tell her just how to lick and suck my big fat, prick, step-by-step. It's just a thing we do for fun, and quite frankly, I enjoy that tiny bit of kink." He asked how big I was. I never said. I just continued, "Yea, she loves me to order her to use her tongue and to do this and do that with her mouth. And then she pretends to gag and even struggles a bit on my juicy monster as she tries to swallow it." I smiled as if I was pretending to relive it all. "Yea, she likes to call my prick her personal bull meat." It was a very slight jest, but I did notice that he briefly touched the front of his jogging shorts.
"I’m not weird or anything, but if you want, I’ll suck you off the way you want, really good.” The kid told me, then added quickly, “But I don’t want to be tied up, or fucked, or anything rough like that. But … I can follow instructions real good. I can wear my underwear for you, mister. I can make it fun for you. What’s that worth to you?”
“Boy, I didn’t say I was interested in fucking your ass. That’s gross, so no need to get indecent with me. However, I never had a guy swing on my junk, so you kinda intrigue me.” I rubbed my chin. “I’ll say this, if you can’t obey instructions and do everything I say, you ain’t worth shit to me. Know what I mean? On the other hand … if you follow my instructions, making it fun for me … well … it’s worth one big one.” The kid’s face lit up, and he unconsciously licked his lips. Don’t know if it was over the $100 offer or over my supposedly humongous prick. Either way, he must have thought he hit the big time.
“Look, kid, I’ll try you out and see where it goes.” He nodded readily, I guess because he knew he’d never agree to do any of the kinky stuff. “OK. I’ll drive us to a quiet place. But first, I want you to stash your little fanny pack, your watch, and valuables ‘cause I don’t want you to think I took your wallet or whatever. You have a place to put that stuff?” He indicated that he’d put it in his car and then walked over to a beat-up VW bug and, locked it in there, and returned, then came back carrying his keys. The fact that he understood that I did not want any of his personal stuff and that I would let him call the shots on sexual limits I’m sure, made him realize he could trust me.
“Good. Now I want to see that you can do as you’re told. So … you see that red minivan there? That’s mine.” He turned to look where I was pointing in the parking lot, only about 50 feet away. I pressed my remote button to unlock it; he heard it chirp. “Go to my van, open the sliding side door, get in, take off your shoes and socks, place them outside the van, on the pavement, then close yourself in and wait for me.” The boy didn’t move. “Don’t worry … I’ll pick up your shoes when I finish shopping.” I just stared intensely at him until he went to the van. I didn’t wait to see him take off his shoes; I sensed he’d do as told. I put off my Home Depot errand and went next door to my bank since I'd need some cash to pay him if he performed for me. I remembered I had some handcuffs in my van, so I didn't need anything extra for bondage if it got that far.
After I withdrew, I walked toward my van and immediately saw that the sliding door was closed and his sock-stuffed shoes were on the pavement, as instructed. I smiled as I climbed into the driver’s seat, never bothering to pick up his shoes. I was right in assuming he’d be too nervous to think about his shoes.
I looked at him in my rear-view mirror. He was crouched on the carpeted floor; there were no seats behind the front seats, just an empty cargo area. I haul stuff around and keep the back area clear for work stuff. He wore only his jogging shorts and t-shirt and held his car keys. “OK, boy, ready to show me what you can do?” He nodded and made a move toward the front passenger seat. “No. Stay back there. You want someone to see us? Shit! Let’s go somewhere safe. I don’t want you to get me into any trouble. My wife would kill me.” He nodded. “Relax. Remember our deal. You’ll be in your underwear and sucking my dick, as I tell you to. And I won’t do anything to you that you don’t ask me to do,” I said as I started my van and began to exit the parking lot and head down a main street.
“Underwear?” The kid asked.
“You agreed to my rules, so … yeah … take your shorts off.” I could tell he was a little too scared to obey right then. I needed to assure him that I was being straight with him. “Shit, boy, I forgot, here’s the hundred up front.” I fumbled to take out one of the several-hundred-dollar bills from my wallet, which I had just gotten from my bank. I twisted my hand behind me and handed him the crisp bill. Without his little zipper pouch, I could see he had nowhere to put the money or his keys. “Just put your keys in one of the cup holders for now, and stick the money in your underwear. It’ll be safe.” He did just that and looked more at ease. “Now, the gym shorts.” I suppose he slipped them off and quickly stuck them under his ass to sit on them, to keep them safe. His remaining underwear was a nicely fitting, full-cut brief in the traditional red and white workman’s hanky pattern.
“Kid, I want to tell you, you have balls. Yes, Sir, you’re no pussy, are you? I like a man who’s not afraid to show his bod. Know what I mean? Everyone admires guys with guts. And I can tell you’re not afraid to strut your stuff and sit around in your manly underwear, are you?”
“Ah … I guess not. I do it all the time when I watch TV.” This time he left off the “mister.” I guess he felt more as if we were equals, talking so man-to-man about being macho.
“I'll tell you what, kid, in addition to the $100 to suck my fat juicy prick, I’ll give you an additional $50 for your gym shorts.” He told me that it was a deal, and as soon as we got back to his car at the Home Depot parking lot, he’d hand them over.
I said “no,” because I wanted them now. “Otherwise … we can cancel our little deal and head back to your …” I was interrupted when he handed me his shorts. But he immediately asked, in a nice way, if he could borrow them back so he could at least get back into his car OK when we were finished. I told him sure, no problem. I was heading for a specific area about 15 miles away from where I picked him up.
“Fuck! Now I am impressed. And these shorts of yours are certainly worth the 50 bucks.” I said as I casually opened my window and held them outside of the van, hooked on my extended index finger to flap around in the wind like a victory flag. “I am showing the world your prize shorts!” I could see him in the mirror, leaning forward and staring at his shorts, which I precariously displayed. As I sped up, the wind force increased, and the shorts were whipped off my finger. “Oops! Shit, there goes your shorts, kid. Fuck!” I yelled. “Well, actually, they were mine. He had a terrified look on his face that I needed to address. “But you’re still getting your 50 for them anyway, 'cause a deal’s a deal. In fact, let me pay you now just so you know I am not bullshitting you.” I had just arrived at the exact place I wanted to be. “Yeah, here. Let me pull over right now so I don’t get in an accident as I’m trying to get my wallet out.”
I stopped at the curb of a seedy part of a downtown area with plenty of graffiti and trash around. We all knew it as “skid row.”
I noticed several transients with cardboard signs asking for money, and others were reclining in the shade against a wall. I pretended not to notice the homeless ghetto nature of our surroundings. If our windows were down, we’d smell the garbage and piss from everywhere. Letting the engine idle, I leaned over and retrieved my wallet. I faked a bit of frustration, “Fuck, I don’t have just 50, only the hundred-dollar bills I got from the bank.” The kid started to say something, but I interjected, “Tell you what … this will work in your favor. Since I owe you 50 for your shorts, and the smallest I have is a hundred … I’ll give you the hundred for the shorts AND YOUR T-SHIRT. How’s that?” He said “OK” but sounded unsure. “Great. Here’s the hundred. Now take off your shirt.” He slipped the second bill into his red and white briefs with the first one I gave him, then peeled off his tee over his head, placing it at his side. He displayed a muscular chest with two fine perky, suckable nipples. “Oh no, you don’t,” I chuckled. “I paid for that ... $50 for a smelly, used tee, so it’s not yours anymore … unless you want to return all the money.” He shook his head, agreeing that the shirt was not his.
I was checking out the grubby panhandlers grouped in the area to the side of my van and wondered if I had seen any of them here before. The kid attempted to hand his T-shirt to me, but I pulled my hand back. “I know I just bought that, but I don’t want that thing smelling up my van, OK? Look, I didn’t realize I placed us in this transient-infested dumpy trash hole. But … seeing as we are now here … it would be nice of us to give that shirt to one of these unfortunates. I’ll let you pick which one.” He just wanted to toss the shirt to anyone and get the fuck out of this sleazy, dangerous place. He was obviously terrified to be in such a rough and filthy part of town, wearing only his tight-fitting underpants and probably wondering if I’d just toss him out of my van and let the degenerates do to him as they wished.
“That might be fun to watch,” I thought to myself. The kid was extremely anxious. I asked him to whom we should give his T-shirt? And he responded, “Mister, let’s give it to this guy right here with the hungry sign.” He obviously picked the guy closest to the van, so he could just slide the van door open a few inches, stick the shirt out, and quickly throw it to him … and then we’d tear out of there.
“Wait a minute, boy,” I said as I turned to face him. The kid looked jittering and sweet, sitting on the carpet in the back of my van; I had no seats in my large, empty cargo area. “Your smelly t-shirt cost me 50 bucks, so let’s be sure the right tramp gets it, OK?”
Without any sign of urgency, I calmly said, “Well, it’s your decision, but you need to be sure, so open your door fully to see these guys.” With that, he hesitantly slid his cargo door open about 6 inches, peeked out, keeping his near-naked body out of view of any onlookers, and pointed to another disheveled man near the van.
“Really, kid, I thought our deal was that you’d follow directions? Didn’t I just tell you to fully open the fucking door? Now, I’m OK with your backing out. I thought you were a man, but I’m cool if you want to quit. Just give me back the $200 I gave you and … go ahead … and get out. I really don’t want to force you to do anything. That’s our deal, remember? So, go ahead, hand over the two big ones, and hop out now.”
“No, wait, mister,” the kid said as he hurriedly slammed the rolling door all the way open with a loud “click” and then scrambled on his knees, quickly backing out of view and hiding his body further back in the cargo area. By now, the transients were staring this way, probably wondering why we were there idling at the curb with the door open.
“That’s better … now stop cowering back there and sit in the middle of the door opening with your legs outside the van, like you're sitting on a park bench, so you can look them all over and choose one to give the shirt to.” The kid looked at me in shock and slowly shook his head no.
It was cute the way he whispered to me from his crouched position, “I can’t do that, mister. I have no clothes on. Can’t I just toss the shirt to someone, and we can split?” Then he added the word “please.”
“You said you’d do this my way. You obviously want us to get out of here, but you’re the one holding us up, not me. And you are not naked. Besides, they will either see you as you are, sitting in the open doorway or … they will see you as you are, walking home from here … less my money, of course. Your call.”
Now, stopped at the curb in downtown skid row, surrounded by transients, the hustler-kid I picked up finally agreed to follow my directions. Totally naked, except for his underpants, he quickly scooted to the middle of the door opening, swung his bare legs out, and nervously wiggled his toes.
“Geez, you sure like dragging this out. Was that so difficult? Fuck, this place smells like piss and shit; it’s awful. Crap, what a bunch of filthy, sex-starved perverts out there. I just want to leave and go someplace where it’s safe. So if you would please just do what I god damn tell you to, we can get the fuck out of here. OK? Now let’s hand your tee to the best choice and leave. Which one, kid?” He pointed to a man sitting on a lawn area. “Kid, that fellow looks pretty clean to me; not like he wants your smelly t-shirt. You’re not being too wise in your choices here, boy. .... You ... want me to pick one so we can get this over with?”
”Yes, yes, please, mister. Anyone, let’s just do it, pick one and get out of here before ... before … they …”
I turned my attention to the front of my van and saw what appeared to be a man with long strands of tangled hair, about 100 feet up the street, pushing a shopping cart.
I smiled broadly. “There. There you go. Offer your tee to that guy there.” I pointed to the transient with the cart.
“I don’t see him.”
“See him in the green army jacket? The guy with log gray hair and beard?”
He asked, “Oh, yes. Yes I do. Should I shut the door so you can drive up to where he is, and I can hand it to him?”
“Kid, I’m not wasting my gas. Just hop out and catch up with him.” The kid didn’t move. So I turned off the engine that was idling. I waited. Then I casually took out my nail clippers from my pocket and nonchalantly started to clip my fingernails. Without looking up at the near-naked kid, I told him, “You know, the longer you stall, the farther away he will be, and the farther you’ll need to walk to catch up to him. You really like dragging this out, don’t you, kid? You must be some sort of an exhibitionist.”
I could tell the kid was thinking things over and wanted to say something, some protest, I suppose, but he said nothing and sheepishly stepped out onto the sidewalk wearing only his panties. “Make sure he really wants it, don’t just throw it at him. And … for Pete’s sake, shut the goddamn sliding door! I don’t want those dangerous assholes trying to get in here!”
OH, MY GOD!!! What a boner-dripping sight to see. My little hunky teen twink hopped out of my van and slammed the door shut, probably not realizing he locked it in the process. Look at him run in his adorable undies, in the middle of skid row, bare-chested, barefooted, and sexy, just as I like ‘em.
I watched through the windshield as he met the cart pusher. It was so funny. I couldn’t hear a thing, of course, but he was trying to present his T-shirt to the guy who was unsure he wanted it. I mean the way the tramp took it, held it up, examined the front, turned it around, looked at the backside, and even appeared to be reading the collar tag. “What’s he doing, looking for washing instructions?” I laughed aloud to myself.
I rubbed my pants-cover dick pole as I watched my little underpants stud fidgeting and nervously hopping from one foot to the other as several onlookers gathered around him. I could imagine him venting his frustration at the poor guy, “Please just take the fucking shirt!” God, I am fucking great! Finally, the tramp placed the tee in his cart and continued down the street while the kid started running full speed back to me and the security of my van.
Adventure into Hell
Part 2 of 3
He then hurried around the front end of my van to pound on my window, which caused him now to stand in the street to plead with me to open the door. I finally looked up, faking a surprised looked, and turned off the radio. That’s when I noticed he had peed his underpants. I heard him through my closed window, crying and begging me to let him in. He was terrified. Oh shit! I loved it!
I slowly rolled down my window, and he said, “Please, mister. Please let me in. Hurry, hurry, please.” He was wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand, and there was crying snot coming out of his nose.
“Hold on a minute, kid. What’s with your panties? He looked down at his body and blushed over the fact that he wet himself. “You can’t come in here with pee-soaked undies,” I spoke slowly and calmly as if time meant nothing. “You want to smell up my just-cleaned van?” He stopped crying and continued to beg.
“Here, here, mister. Here’s the $200 backs back.” And he just tossed the $200 I gave him earlier through the window onto my lap. “Just take me home, OK? Please? Get me out of here, now, OK?” I guess it never dawned on him that with the cash he had, he could have easily walked into any of these cheap clothing stores on the block and bought some clothes. And he could have taken a bus or cab the 15 miles to go home. Just goes to show you that when you’re all panicky, you just don’t think right. Now he was even more at my mercy. Just ripe for the picking.
“Hey, kid, don’t get upset at me. I didn’t do anything to you. And if you calm down, we still have a deal, don’t we?” He was pleading with me to let him in. Cars were traveling back and forth in the lane he was nearly standing in, and each would slow to get a good look at the sexy, skimpily-clad young man; many honking their horn or making whistling sounds or yelling out insults and laughing.
“Look, kid, I took a chance with you. You offered me a good blow job, remember? I was all worked up about having fun with you chowing down on my horse dick. Know what I mean? But … but … now …” I started up the engine and revved it a bit.
“No, wait, please, just let me in; I’ll work you over real good.” He was continually yanking on the handles of my van, anxiously alternating between my driver door handle and the sliding passenger door handle. “I don’t even want no money, mister. Just tie me up and let me swallow your dick. I’ll do it your way. Just let me in now.”
“Well …” I hesitated, rubbing my chin, mumbling as if I was thinking it over. “But you said you didn’t want me to tie you up, and … well … like I said, I like that kind of kink. But … I don’t want to violate our agreement. And you said …”
“Mister, please, please tie me up and force your dick down my throat. Please, I need you to do that for me. Please.” The kid stopped sobering and was in full surrender mode. He just wanted in.
'course ... I had other ideas. He's locked outside my van amid all these sex-starved, filthy degenerates, near naked and begging. Now ... wouldn't it be just the ballsiest thing to have him out there, totally naked and sobbing?
There we were in the middle of the worst of downtown filthy, shit-smelly skid row with me parked in my red van and this kid-hustler locked outside wearing only his underwear, and terribly frightened that I'd drive away and leave him here surrounded by 2 dozen degenerates. This started with him trying to hustle me, but I turned the tables and talked him out of his clothes for money and out of my van. Now he wants back in. What will my conditions be?
“Are you sure?" I asked the boy through the open driver’s window. "Because when I picked you up at Home Depot, the deal was, I'd pay you a hundred bucks for a blowjob, and you said no bondage and … and … no fucking you,” I said calmly and analytically, looking into his panic-filled face of the nearly naked kid begging outside my van, crying to come in. He was so freaked out he actually peed all over himself right there in the traffic lane of the street.
“You see, kid, being straight, I have wondered what it would be like to fuck a man's asshole. I suppose I’d be willing to try it, I mean, if it's something you want me to do for you. And if not ... I could go back to that Home Depot and see if anyone there wants to get fucked. ” I revved up the engine as if I was about to leave.
“Mister, please let me in … and … you can … you can … fuck me.”
“I’m shocked! You actually want me to fuck you?” I teased him, knowing he wanted nothing of the sort. Cars and trucks continued to drive by. The underwear-clad boy was putting on quite a show for the crowds that were now growing on both sides of the street, watching his antics.
“Please, mister, just let me in, tie me up, and fuck me, whatever you want. Just let me in and drive me out of this hell hole. I don’t want no money. Just to be fucked by you is my reward.”
“Well, I suppose … if that’s what you need me to do … I guess I could help you out. But … but, first, there is the issue of your pee-smelly underwear.” I looked inside my van, grabbed the little plastic bag I use for litter, and held it out the window. “First, strip off those undies and put them in here.” He looked around, frightened by all the people watching him. “Just do it. Haven’t you learned yet to just do as I say?”
Amazingly, without a further word, he let go of one door handle, slipped off his last remaining garment, and placed it in the bag. He obeyed, making himself totally naked outside my van.
Without any rush on my part, of course, I zipped the bag closed and placed it in the footwell of the front passenger seat. “Good boy,” I said with a smile. But he remained stoic, waiting for my instructions to get in.
“Now … just to be clear that I’m not forcing you to do anything you really don’t enjoy, you tell me again exactly what you want from me, and be honest and sincere … and convincing.”
“Pleeease, oh God! Mister, please tie me up. I really need you to force your big bull meat down my throat and up my ass. I really mean it. Please do me that huge favor, oh God, mister. I need it so fucking bad,” he tearfully lied to me as he now covered his dick with both his hands. He completely broke down and wept.
“What if you are just saying that, so I let you in? And you don't really mean it? I'm not convinced. And after, I bought you a pair of handcuffs so you can have your fun.” Then I spoke as if thinking aloud, “I guess I could just leave now and find someone else to share these handcuffs with.” I did not let him know, but from the time he stripped naked in the street, I figured I had less than 10 minutes before the police could arrive. Of course, I didn't want that. But I continued to pretend not to care about time or possible police problems.
“I’ll do anything. I’ll do it like you want. Please handcuff me, mister. Please fuck me hard.” I remained silent momentarily to let it all settle into his fucked up mind. The continual traffic passing us by and the multitude of people pointing at him and laughing and yelling insults stoked his desperation to get into my van. I showed him the shiny new handcuffs. He could see that they were not toy cuffs.
He was terrified at the sight of the metal restraints but mustered up all the courage to lie convincingly that the cuffs were fine and that I could put them on him as soon as I let him in, and we drove somewhere safe.
“Ah,...well … that’s the thing, kid. I don’t want to force you. You have to put them on yourself … now.” “But … I … I can’t … all these people ... I’d be … I mean … I’m naked ... please, mister? Can I get in the …” I didn’t say a word, just stared at him and slowly, very slowly, moved my head from side to side. There was no compromise for me. He took the cuffs out of my hand, placed one wrist in the cuff, and closed it, making the metal ratchet sound that caused my prick to stiffen. Then he took his other wrist and placed it in the other side of the cuffs.
“No. Place your hands behind you and then secure the other cuff.” He stood there at my mercy and in view of all the gawkers. And without further hesitation, he locked his hands behind him and stood there, totally naked, in the middle of a busy downtown street, in skid row. Amazing!
“Anything wrong?” Boy, did that voice surprise me? I guess I was too engrossed in mind-fucking my little-naked twink hustler that I didn’t notice a couple of filthy … ah … “area residents” approach the driver’s side of my van. They stopped in front of me and just beside the handcuffed kid. They showed more than curiosity; it was more like they wanted to rescue the boy from danger.
I quickly told them, “Oh ... I guess you were watching this idiot trying to do his Harry Houdini ‘escape artist’ trick. Cuffing himself naked in the street, and now this asshole can’t complete the magic trick. He’s supposed to keep the key in his ass lips where he could retrieve it, but I think his asshole swallowed it up. What a fucking joke. Why do I keep putting up with him? He’s such a fucking waste of my time. He drags me out here and makes me watch, and as usual, he fucks it up!”
My quickly manufactured explanation immediately removed all their concerns for the boy, if they actually had any. The one guy’s frown turned into a smile as he put his hand on the boy’s ass cheek and gently petted it as he spoke to me. Now, the two tramps had concern for me. “Need our help, Sir? We can escort him over to our shady spot and … hold him there until you leave. In fact, if you have five bucks, we can get him a couple of hotdogs.” The kid almost fainted. His weak knees folded, and he would have hit the pavement if the two transients hadn’t caught him. He was being held up and steadied, with each guy holding a hand under each kid’s armpits.
“Well, fellows, that’s really not my call. See, my agreement with this stupid-ass punk kid is that he gets to call the shots; I never force him to do anything. So really … it’s up to him.” I turned my face to the kid and said plainly, “Would you like to go with these ‘fine gentlemen’ and enjoy their hotdogs? I’ll give them the fiver, and you can chow down on their … on their ... ah … hotdogs … all day long. I’m sure you’ll enjoy swallowing their … ‘dogs.’ Or … do you want to stop playing all these stupid fucking Houdini antics, creating goddamn public disturbances, maybe get arrested since the police should be arriving about now, AND GET YOUR SORRY ASS BACK IN THE VAN!! I am so tired of all the trouble you cause me! Just make up your fucking mind. Either way is fine with me 'cause I'm out of here!”
The kid was so frightened, he was like shaking and pleading for his very life, “Oh God ... Oh God, please don't leave me. Please let me in. I’m all finished with … with … my magic tricks. I am so fucking sorry for all the trouble and embarrassment I put you through. It's all my fault. ... I'm just a fucking asshole to humiliate you like this. ... Please, I promise, no more Houdini stunts. Please … just let me come in now?” And he wept openly. It was magnificent.
I hit the button, “click,” and unlocked the sliding door in front of him. He stopped crying and, I guess, was waiting for me to reach back and physically open the door for him since his hands were still cuffed. “Well?” I said to the kid. He didn’t know what I was asking. “Aren't you going to ask these two very kind gentlemen to help you get in?” He turned to the transients and only said, “Please?” One guy slid the door open and gropingly picked up the handcuffed naked boy and carefully placed him inside. I had a large towel covering the carpet in anticipation of him being dirty. The transients were being overly careful as their hands seemed to wander and linger all over his tight muscle-trim body. It should have taken all of 15 seconds, but the way they rubbed and fingered every inch of his flesh, it was more like 4 or 5 minutes.
The guy who never said anything was slowly pulling on the kid’s prick, up and down and up and down. As they placed the kid on his side in a fetal position, facing the open door, the more talkative guy reached behind the kid and, I think, was finger fucking his ass. I pretended not to notice or care so they did not hurry. That was a little fun surprise show for me and allowed me, for the first time, to see the kid with a big firm boner. Each degenerate stopped fondling the boy, stepped back, slid the door closed, nodded to me, and walked around the van to the curb.
I drove away, thinking that it went much better than I had planned. I loved the spontaneous parts of all that, like the crowds yelling, the transients approaching to help the kid and the little attempt they made to get the kid off. Wow! And, of course, there is the heart-stopping anxiety of knowing that the police might arrive before we could drive away. Fuck!! It’s never gone this great before. I rubbed the front of my pants to massage my stiffy. As we cleared the skid row area, I watched a squad car speeding to where we came from. Fuck, what great timing. I drove to a more secluded, industrial area, where I knew no one would be on a Sunday, and parked in an empty parking lot. I reached down, picked up the baggy with the kid’s piss-soaked undies in it, and went to join the boy.
As I bent over and crawled in back, my little cell phone-size security gadget fell out of my shirt pocket. The kid asked what it was. “Oh, that. ... I guess I can turn it off now. But let me play a little bit for you first.” I pushed the rewind button and then “play.” The kid heard himself, “Don’t leave me. Take me with you. Please, mister, I’ll do anything. I’ll do it like you want. Please handcuff me, mister. Please fuck me hard.” I pushed, “Stop.” I don’t think he was the type to call the police, really I don’t, especially when he realized I never hurt him, well … not physically, anyway. But now he knew he could never prove I forced him or raped him; we both knew I was safe.
“Now, I know you were looking forward to sucking my big, juicy prick, but the way you were begging me to give you the hardest ass fucking of your life, well … that really caught my attention. Know what I mean?” I looked out all the windows again to see that we were totally alone and then stripped down to my sleeveless t-shirt. I rolled the kid onto his belly, keeping him on the towel, and straddled his legs above his knees. My nine-inch bone was leaking cum slop all over him. God, was I horny.
“Now, you already agreed to do things my way, so here’s how it will go.” I reached into the baggy, retrieved his red and white piss panties, and got my pocketknife out of my discarded pants. I explained as I cut his underwear into one long strip and folded it neatly into a makeshift gag. “First, I’m going to gag you with your panties. So open your mouth real wide.” He didn’t.
“Oh, I see. You want to stop now. Break our agreement.” He remained quiet. “OK, that’s fine. I never force anyone. So … let me open the door and put you out here. You’re only about 15 miles from your car, that’s not too far to walk. And since you agreed to no money, I should at least let you keep the handcuffs on. Not that I want to lose those babies, but I’m a little too pissed right now to look for the key. I’ll help you out of the van now. See ya later…”
Adventure into Hell
Part 3 of 3
He violently shook his head, “Please, no.” And then opened his mouth as wide as he could. Since I knew he would do that, I took my sock that I had already bundled into a tight wad and stuffed it fully into his mouth, and then quickly tied the piss-soaked underwear made-gag neatly around his head.
Now that I scared the shit out of this hustler-kid twink and had him in the back of my van, naked on his belly, with his hands cuffed behind his back, my fun was just beginning. So he would not interfere in my sport, I already forced my rolled-up sock snugly in his mouth and held it in there securely with a gag I made from the remnants of his pretty red and white underwear. Now he could neither physically resist nor verbally resist. The stage was set.
“OK, kid, now this part might be a little difficult, but I want you to scoot your knees under your hips. Get yourself into position with your ass in the air and your face on the floor.” I knew he could use my help, but I offered none and just watched him struggle like a worm to get as told, grunting through the gag all the time. Finally, he did, probably just wanting all this to be over with as soon as possible.
His gorgeous ass was exactly at the height for me to shove my steel prick in. “Now … Kid, I want you to tell me exactly how you want me to pleasure you. I mean, I’m not selfish.” I told him, lying throw my teeth, as I have been doing all along. I took a 3-foot rope I kept tucked into the pocket in the back of the driver’s seat. You know … for … “emergencies.” It has a small metal spring clip at one end. I quickly clipped the chain of the handcuffs and threaded the other end of the rope through an eyebolt I permanently installed in the roof of my van and pulled it tight to force his arms awkwardly upward, giving him enough pain to prevent him from struggling. With his arms secured like that, his head was forced to stay on the floor, and his ass had to stay up as it was. It also prevented him from turning or twisting his body. Simple and nice.
“OK, now … do you want me to use any lube, or do you want a dry fuck?” He muffled inaudibly into his sock-filled mouth pressed against the floor. I pretended to understand him. “Oh, my. You want a dry fuck. Well … OK. And do you want me to start off easy and tender, or do you like my steel shaft just rammed in there and plowing you as hard as I can?” Again, more muffled noises from the terrified boy, as he was trying harder to communicate that he wanted no part of this ... this ... rape, but he couldn't.
“Oh, Christ! You really like it hard, huh? And … and you said ‘deep’ and ‘rough’? Geez, kiddo, I never realized you were so wild. Know what I mean? You’re giving me quite a boner here.” I ignored his inaudible protest and pretended he was encouraging my rough treatment.
“Well ... but look, kid, if you want me to fuck you that hard and pound my meat deep into your fuck hole, I’d better undo the handcuff rope, so your shoulders won’t get all cramped and sore. I want you to be as comfortable as you can to enjoy this. This is all about you.” I continued to tease and mind-fuck him. I think he gave me a muffled “thank you.” I asked in a confusing way for him to clarify his wishes. “You do want the rope released, don't you? ... And the cuff off too, right? Or do you want to be secured, immobile like this? I think it'll be too painful, don't you? Maybe the pain doesn’t bother you. Shit! I’ve heard of guys that find pain erotic. Fuck. Are you one of those?” He was yelling as loud as possible and wiggling and shaking his body, but the excruciating pain he must have felt with his arms raised behind him caused him to stop moving about soon after he started. Of course, he wanted to be released.
“OK, OK, stop yelling at me. I get it.” I slapped his ass repeatedly to make my point. “God damn it. I can’t believe you want to remain all tussled up like this. OK, kiddo, OK. It’s a little weird, but it's your party. I’ll leave you like this until you are all fucked out, and all finished having your fun for today.” It wasn’t going to be a real dry fuck since I was leaking precum continuously, but I did shove my prick bone into his luscious asshole all in one big firm thrust. My balls slammed into his balls. Then I repeatedly rammed him in and out. He was yelling and trembling and sobbing all at the same time. I continue my primal rhythm, and at the same time, I reach under him and feel his soft dick. He was not enjoying this. There was nothing erotic happening for this poor bastard. And that’s exactly the way I wanted it.
“Oh, listen up,” I said as I varied my pounding motions, “I don’t want to fuck you too much, so as soon as you climax, I’ll stop. OK, kiddo? If you want me to stop, feel free to squirt your load. But if you want me to continue fucking your pussy ass, just stay soft so I’ll know you’re not ready to quit yet.” And fuck him, I did. I was sweating like a pig. I must have come three or four times in his hot ass; he never did get an erection. I pulled out and collapsed on top of him in euphoric, erotic exhaustion.
“You did real good, boy, real good. I have a couple of rewards for you. One is I will let you clean off my slime-covered prick, with all your wonderful ass juices coating it. You’ll love that, and the other reward is I will untie the rope so your arms can rest on your back. I’ll leave the cuffs on for now, but at least your wrist and arms can relax.
You deserve it, kiddo.” I wasted no time in removing the rope and stowing it away for the next hustler who would solicit me. The boy breathed a huge sigh of relief as his cuffed hands fell more comfortably to the center of his back as he lay flat on his belly. That took all the weight off his shoulders. “Now, I’m going to remove your gag, but listen to me and be very careful to do exactly as I say because if you screw up, I’ll push your naked body out of the van here and now, and you can walk back. On the other hand, if you remain a good boy, I’ll drive you back to your car. Now, nod if you understand.” He nodded frantically. “Good boy.”
“Now, when the gag is off, the first thing out of your mouth, after my old smelly sock, of course, is a continuous stream of thank-yous for your great time. You will express every variation of thanks and praise me for how wonderful I am and how nice I have treated you. Then you will desperately beg me to let you lick and suck off all your scuzzy shit covering my prick.” He stared, listening intently; I could tell he wanted to get it right so this all would end soon. “If you are not 100 percent convincing, I take the cuffs off you and shove you out, bare-assed naked. End of story.” He nodded in full wide-eyed submission. I removed the gag and then fished out my sock. He took a minute to work out the cramps in his jaw, shifted his body position once again to be on his knees, and bowed his head respectfully. I could tell he saw the recorder in my hand, I wanted him to, and I pressed the record button, and the red light came on.
In his most sincere voice, he spewed out, “Oh God, fuck! That was the greatest erotic experience of my entire life! I can’t believe how well you treated me, giving me every wonderful sexual sensation any man could hope to have.” He sobbed a bit here and there; some snot bubbled from his nose. “Oh, mister, I loved every minute of it. What a handsome, powerful dick you have. I love it shoved so hard and masterfully up my pussy, asshole. I love you.” It was an emotional time for him. He was so beaten down to nothingness and now to conjure up phony and insulating sweet offers of gratitude and appreciation to the man who uncaringly used and abused him. The guy who stripped him of every shred of dignity forced him to parade around totally naked in front of growing crowds and a group of beggars and transients on piss-soaked skid row, not to mention exposing him to being arrested if any police showed up.
The kid glanced at the red light on the recorder I held. “Thank you so fucking much for all you have done for me and for me, mister. I have never had such a wonderful day in my entire life. I am so overwhelmed by your kindness I can't help crying for joy at how many times today you have gone out of your way to please me and let me live out all my wildest fantasies.” Then it got to be too much, and he cried loudly, tears pouring down his face, releasing all his pent feeling from his extremely humiliating experience. He regained his composure, mostly.
“Mister? I know you did so much for me already, but … but … can I … may I please have the honor of sucking and licking your dick clean?” He said hoarsely and then whispered to himself prayerfully, “Oh God. Oh fucking god!” I scooted my body around so my prick was directly in front of his kneeling form. I spread my legs out to either side of his body. Then I leaned back and relaxed, slowly saying, “OK, boy, if that’s what you want. You may go for it.” And the boy did exactly as he said he would. With his hands still cuffed behind him, he leaned forward and put his mouth on my sticky, filthy prick. At the same time he started to work on my dick, he stretched out his body, again lying on the belly, and was humping the towel-covered carpet and moaning. I’m sure he wanted a free hand to beat himself off or for me to do it for him, but … not a chance. I was only interested in how he was pleasuring my prick. It was gentle, warm, caring, and very lovingly done. I clicked off the recorder and enjoyed his worshiping me.
I surprised myself. After coming 3 times in his ass, I felt my dick again growing in mass and then uncontrollably shooting this load down his greedy throat. Then, as I laid still, I watched him work up quite a sweat, groaning louder and loud, pounding his hips more and more feverishly, twisting and thrusting, grunting with all his energy, like a wild animal assaulting its prey. Then his entire sweat-soaked body went still momentarily, followed by a series of repeated jerky bounces and loud, angry, rhythmic gasps signaling a full sexual release. He didn't deserve it, but what the hell. It was beautiful.
I waited a full 5 minutes as both of us floated in mind-blowing bliss. Ready to return, I looked at him, “I supposed you want me to leave the handcuffs on you as we drive back to Home Depot, and … I guess you want your tasty pee-soaked gag back in, too, don’t you?” His eyes teared up as he weakly nodded yes, guessing that would please me. “Whatever you want, kiddo, I won’t force you. You know what I mean?” So I jammed my same spit-soaked sock in his mouth, making sure it was seated fully behind his teeth, then re-secured the cloth band I made from his cut-up red and white patterned underwear. Being a little ballsy, I drove us back to the Home Depot with the sliding door fully open so he could see the view. I got fully dressed, less one sock, took the driver’s seat, and reflected on all the fabulous parts of my scheme and how things went much better than I had planned. I was in heaven. Finally, there, I spotted his old VW bug and parked a good 200 feet away. I wanted his naked body to walk across the parking lot, in the afternoon sun, in full view of the on-looking shoppers.
I went into the back of my van and closed the door for a moment of privacy. I uncuffed him and noticed how raw his wrists were, just as usual. He’ll heal OK. As he moved off his belly to sitting up for a moment, I saw he had made a huge human juice puddle on the towel. Luckily I had folded it into four layers.
“Do I get any money, mister?” he asked sheepishly.
“What a fucking ingrate you are. For all, I’ve done for you? Fuck no! But I will let you grab your keys and get the fuck out of my van.”
“Thank you, mister. … Ah ... Craig? So … the same time next month? Where will we meet then?”
“Check your e-mail, as usual. And don’t ask stupid, fucking questions. You have no say in how I plan our monthly training adventures. I developed my detailed plan. You get nothing. You just live it out as it unfolds,” I told him sternly. Shit, I never know how things will actually play out. I have the plan, yes … but I allow others, like in this case, the transients and that crowd of gawkers, to interact freely, which alters everything and keeps me on my toes. After all, I'm the one fully responsible. It makes it truly real for both of us. God, I love it when I don’t know what outsiders will do, and so does Mark. It’s all based on trust and knowing how far I can push him.
Mark grabbed his keys and leaned over to me to kiss me on my mouth, but I leaned back out of reach and pushed him away. It's not allowed. We exchanged smiles as he opened the sliding door and nakedly scurried to his car, causing some mall shoppers to do a double-take in disbelief. In case you are wondering, we are not a couple. I have my own lover, and Mark is single. Today is his 20th birthday. Our mutual interest centers on public humiliation. This was our eighth scenario, and I have yet to reach Mark's true limit. When one starts to appear, I am very good at manipulating him in a distracting way to go past it. Know what I mean? When we first met … I now laugh about it ... but Mark's main requirement was that there be absolutely ... no public nudity.
The End
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