Brian's visit - version 2.0.0 (June-August 2009) (NC-reluctant, auth, cum denial, humil, feet, extensive drug use, unsafe-sex)
stories@nc.rr.com
DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of FICTION - any similarity to actual people or events is entirely coincidental. It contains adult subject matter and should not be read by any minor, person who would find such material offensive, or if it is illegal in your area. If you meet these conditions, please delete this file from your computer. This work is not to be reproduced in any manner without prior approval from the author.
SPOILER ALERT: If you read the original version of this story, you might be interested in the changes I've made. If you'd like to read them, scroll to the end. If you'd rather be surprised, wait `til you're finished.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Brian's Visit" was my first story on Nifty, originally posted seven years ago. Though this version keeps the same plot and characters, I've made widespread corrections to grammar and text to make reading easier, such as fixing my bad habit of putting dialogue and narration in the same paragraph and my apparent inability to use contractions. Additionally, Brian's character has been fleshed out a bit and the last chapter contains new information revealing his motivation for the events chronicled in this story. If you were a fan of the original, don't worry, nothing fundamental to the design changed, but this one should be easier on the eyes.
Thanks for all your support!
CHAPTER THREE -- THE PARTY
By now, I'd utterly lost track of the time. Brian and Tim continued to talk and bullshit with each other, drinking beer and smoking weed, ignoring the kneeling boy at their feet, as if they'd forgotten I was even there. At some point, I stopped trying to get my cock to soften, knowing it wasn't going to shrink fully until I was allowed to either go to bed or cum. Unfortunately, Brian seemed to possess an uncanny ability to stop me each time I got close to orgasm and the repeated, intense near misses had reduced me to a shell of the man I was twelve hours ago. The carpet between my legs was covered in slimy prefuck and my obscenely engorged dick continued to ooze the slippery stuff, even as we just relaxed, not actively engaged in anything sexual. I wondered for a moment how much precum my body could produce, the thought sending a shiver through me and causing my cock to lurch again, refreshing the damp, slick spot on my carpet. Tim would occasionally, and without warning, smear his toes in the gooey mess and slap my cock with his foot, never doing it more than once, knowing any more would send my bloated, overly teased dick over the edge.
"I wish we had some toys," said Brian, breaking the silence and causing me to look up at him sheepishly, not understanding exactly what he meant.
Apparently, neither did Tim...
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You know, like sex toys," Brian clarified. "I'm sure our little friend would love to play for us. It'd be just like Christmas morning for him..."
They laughed sinfully, sending a shudder of apprehension through my body and another wave of clear juice up the shaft of my waving cock. What Tim said next didn't help...
"Dude, there's an adult video store a couple miles down the highway from here. They sell toys. We could always go get him some."
"How's that sound, Ricky?" Brian teased. "You wanna go get something to play with? You don't look like you're ready for bed yet."
He was right about not being ready to sleep, but dead wrong if he thought I wanted to go to an adult bookstore with him. However, I knew I'd need to play this carefully if I wanted to get out of my precarious situation with even a shred of dignity remaining.
"I don't think I wanna do that Brian," I complained.
It was the first time I'd spoken in a long time and my voice sounded foreign to my ears. I cursed myself for allowing my tone to be so submissive, regretting I hadn't made my point more forcefully.
"Well, I'm not going to drive out there alone. You'll have to come too..."
They both stood and started to get dressed. I forgot for a moment about my current circumstances and tried to stand with them, nearly yanking my balls off in the process. I rolled onto my side from the sharp sensation in my scrotum while Tim doubled over laughing.
"I guess I'll need to take the ropes off," Brian said while chuckling. "Don't even think about touching yourself. If you cum, I'll beat the living shit outta you."
At this point, I didn't know whether to believe him or assume the threat had been made simply for Tim's benefit. Nevertheless, I was still thankful as he untied the ropes, allowing me to struggle to my feet and stretch the cramps from my legs. He tossed my onionskin shorts in my direction, instructing me to put them on. Once they were in place, I was appalled by how I looked. My cock was leaking freely into the skimpy, thin piece of clothing and there was still semi-dried cum all over my face. Brian grabbed my car keys and told me to get my wallet.
After running to my bedroom to retrieve it, I returned to the living room and found them already standing by the door.
"OK, we're all set," he stated matter-of-factly. "Let's go..."
My stomach turned and I felt suddenly queasy. I couldn't allow this to happen; I just couldn't go out of the house in this condition.
"Brian," I struggled to say. "I can't be seen in public like this."
"Why not?" he questioned, as if it was fully natural to go out wearing only a soggy, tented pair of jogging shorts, already oozing slime from the spot where my solid cock pressed urgently against it.
"Well, you can see me," I tried to elaborate. "I mean, you can see my dick through the shorts. Can't I at least have a t-shirt or some shoes?"
A quick, particularly cruel slap from Tim answered that question. I was scared; whether he'd intended it or not, that last slap hurt.
"...and he was being so well-behaved," Tim laughed.
"Dude, that had to hurt," Brian observed. "I don't mind you slapping him but, Jesus man, be more careful. If you send him to the hospital, I'm sure they'll call the police. Neither of us needs that kinda trouble..."
He handed my car keys to Tim and asked for a moment alone with me before we left.
"Ricky, I'm sorry about that slap," he quietly apologized. "I know that last one was kinda rough. He even left a mark on your face. I'll try to keep it from happening again..."
Now that I had Brian alone and he seemed a bit friendlier, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to find out what was happening.
"What the hell are you doing tonight? For god's sake, Brian, you gotta explain what's happening! Why are you acting this way?"
"There are two reasons actually," he explained. "First, you needed to be taught a lesson about calling people names. I don't think you'll be as quick to throw around words like `faggot' anymore, will you?"
"No, you're right about that," I admitted. "What's the second reason?"
Brian grabbed by still-rigid, slimy erection through the thin shorts and twisted his fingers along the shaft, milking out more juice and making my knees buckle. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear...
"Because you're enjoying it..."
He then ushered me to the car and passed me off to Tim, allowing him to shove me into the backseat. As soon as we pulled from the drive, I was worried we'd have an accident. With Tim in the backseat with me, Brian was behind the wheel, driving erratically, the combination of weed and beer having left him in no condition to drive. More troubling was the possibility of being stopped by a highway patrolman; since this was a holiday weekend, they were out in force tonight.
These worries should have allowed my dick to relax, but Tim wasn't about to let that happen. He'd put on his shoes without his socks but had brought one along for me to suck while we drove to the bookstore. When I hesitated, he tied the rank sock around my head, the sweatiest, most foul smelling section under my nose. He then used his middle finger to flick the head of my cock, causing it to rear up inside the shorts and belch a fresh stream of precum, some of which pushed through the fabric, forming a glistening bead of slime on the outer side of the material. He continued to thump my dick all the way to the video store, by which time I'd ruined my back seat upholstery. Not only were the thin shorts soaked through at the head of my prick, but I was literally sitting in a pool of my own fluid. While this went on, Brian reminded me of all the things I'd done this evening, licking their feet, sucking their uncut cocks, and drinking their cum and piss. By the time we arrived, the combination of humiliation and the painful urge to cum had me on the verge of tears.
When we arrived at the store, Tim removed the sock from my face and opened the door for me. After flicking the head of my cock one last time and reminding me to bring my wallet, they started walking across the parking lot to the poorly lit entrance. Feeling the cool, night air blowing across my nearly nude body, I stared down at the mess I'd made in my shorts. I couldn't go in that store, not dressed like this. My feet refused to move and I froze on the spot.
Brian sensed I wasn't following and turned around, approaching me...
"What's the matter, faggot? Getting cold feet?"
"Brian," I whispered, "I can't go in there like this..."
"OK. You don't have to," he unexpectedly answered.
I looked at him suspiciously and waited for him to finish his thought, knowing there was a catch.
"Just gimme your wallet and we'll go inside and buy what you need. You can sit in the car and wait `til we get back..."
Over his shoulder, I noticed a group of three guys about our age exiting the video store.
"Thanks, Brian," I said. "I really appreciate this..."
After handing over my wallet, I started to get in the car, trying to sit before the other guys got close enough to see me. Brian, with reflexes so quick you'd never have guessed how much weed he'd smoked, grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him.
"Oh, no you don't. In return for my generous offer, you'll sit in the car naked until we get back. Hand me the shorts..."
I stared at him dumbstruck, the fear unmistakable in my eyes. The three others were already within earshot. I didn't move. Instead of slapping me, he leaned forward and gently whispered in my ear...
"You need this to happen, Ricky. I can read it in your face. Trust me; I've learned a lot since college and I know what I'm doing. Now give me those shorts before you piss me off!"
Though I still didn't understand precisely what Brian was doing tonight, his presence was my only source of security, my only remaining link to reality. Realizing that being naked with an erection in the middle of the night, even if strangers could see me, was better than severing this linkage by being stubborn, I reluctantly lowered the shorts and moved toward the car. Grabbing the handle, my bare ass in plain view, I struggled in vain to open the door. Looking back at Brian, his malevolent smirk returned and he dangled my car keys in front of my face. Mortified, I saw Tim stop the three guys I'd seen earlier, pointing out my predicament to them.
"Shit," yelled one of the new guys, "the frats must be at it again!"
"Not at all, Brad," interrupted Brian, "this is just my old college roommie. He's just demonstrating some of his new hobbies..."
He knew them! The son of a bitch knew these guys! Standing with my back to them, shivering from both exposure and fear, I prayed I wouldn't have to turn around, but somehow realized that's exactly what Brian would want.
"Ricky, don't be rude! Turn around and say `hello' to my friends..."
Resistance was not an option. I was naked, still a little high from an entire night of smoking weed (not to mention the remnants of the ecstasy running through my system). Additionally, I remained hard as a rock and several miles from home without my keys.
Slowly, I pivoted on unsteady feet, my knees feeling as though they could give way any second, fully exposing my rigid, drippy cock to these strangers.
"That's it, good boy," Brian cooed as if talking to the family pet, relishing this display of power. "I'd like you to meet some old friends of mine. This is Brad, Kevin, and Phillip. I haven't seen them in years..."
As I slowly raised my eyes to meet theirs, I was greeted with expressions of contempt mixed with a healthy dose of shock.
"Uhmm, hi guys," I stammered. "Good to meet you..."
Given the circumstances, my greeting sounded ridiculous and I knew it. The one Brian had identified as Kevin, a tall, thin guy with scraggly facial hair, was first to speak...
"Goddamn, Brian! What the hell's going on here?"
"Well, we were hanging out at Ricky's house, letting him suck our dicks, when he asked if we could go buy him some sex toys. Since he went all out for our blowjobs, I kinda felt we owed it to him to help him out..."
The last time I disagreed with Brian's recounting of events, I'd gotten smacked rather hard. So, instead of correcting him, I just lowered my eyes and stared at my still bloated cock, waving in the cool night air.
"It's true, man," offered Tim. "He even gets into feet! He licked all over mine, put `em in his mouth and sucked on my toes, almost blew his spooge all over the fucking place. He's hot for it. I thought I'd tag along and see what else Brian has planned for him tonight."
Phillip walked a bit closer and stared down at my cock.
"Why the fuck is he so hard? Did you give him something?"
"No, man -- that's all him. The bastard can't get enough," answered Brian. "He's been like this for hours now. I should really go in and get the toys he asked for..."
"You're not gonna let him pick `em out?" asked Kevin.
"He's too embarrassed to go inside the store. We made a deal that I'd go for him as long as he stays out here naked until I get back."
My three new tormentors shook their heads and laughed in disbelief; that any guy would let himself be used like this was apparently beyond their ability to comprehend. I wanted to explain, but knew I'd only get myself into trouble and, quite frankly, Brian's account of events fit the evidence far better than the correct version.
"We'll watch him if you wanna go get his stuff," offered Kevin. "This is a rough neighborhood. You wouldn't want anything to happen to him..."
Though still high, I was clear-headed enough to recognize feigned concern when I heard it.
"Thanks, Kev," answered Brian. "Come on, Tim. Let's go..."
As Brian and Tim walked away, I looked up in fear. They were leaving me naked in the parking lot of an adult bookstore with a group of guys I didn't know! The three strangers formed a semi-circle around me. Though their intent was probably to keep me from running, I was actually thankful for the cover. With the car behind me and three guys in front, no one else could get a good look at me. Phillip reached for my balls.
"Damn dude! This looks almost painful," he said as he grabbed at my nuts and pulled them away from my body, gently at first but with increasing pressure, rolling the swollen balls between his fingers, separating them in the sack.
"What's that all over your face, man?" asked Brad.
Shit! I'd already forgotten I still had spooge on my face.
"It's cum," I answered snappily. "Brian just told you I gave them blowjobs..."
I instantly regretted taking such a confrontational tone.
"Don't you get a fucking attitude with me, dude!" Brad shot back.
"Yeah," added Phillip. "I'd never admit to having cum on my face, even if it was the truth! I'd say they spit on me, or raped me or something. Shit, I'd be begging to be rescued from those two perverts while they're gone. Is that it? Did they rape you?"
"No," I shamefully admitted. "They didn't rape me. I didn't mean for this to happen tonight, but it wasn't rape..."
Phillip yanked my balls down in the sack and my cock performed its ritual dance, throbbing and dripping from the swollen slit. A large glob landed on his wrist. He must have thought I was cumming, because he immediately released my nuts and started to yell.
"What the fuck! You'd better not shoot your faggot load on me! Lick that shit off!"
I had no good options. As he raised his wrist to my mouth, I extended my tongue to lick my precum from his wrist.
"Actually, I think we'll be safer if we make him turn around," suggested Kevin. "That way, if he shoots he'll nut on his car instead of one of us."
The others agreed and quickly spun me around, causing my unyielding dick to slap the cold window of the rear passenger door, leaving a trail of clear, gooey juice all over the glass. Feeling their eyes on my body, a new wave of fear ran through me when I realized I could no longer see what they were doing.
"Shit, I don't think I've ever been that turned on before," whispered Brad. "What kinda toys are your buddies in there buying for you, queerboy?"
"I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. I shuddered a bit when I thought about what kind of things Brian might be charging to my credit card.
"Brian said you asked him to come here. You must know what you wanted, unless you're calling Brian a liar."
I was being set up. If I said Brian was lying, they'd surely tell him and I couldn't predict what his reaction might be. So I improvised...
"I just know he'll pick out something I like," I lied, the statement leaving a bad taste in my mouth and inadvertently giving credence to Brian's story.
"Dude, you must trust him a lot," observed Brad, "letting him pick out toys for you, not to mention showing off your junk like this. And all this shit about licking Tim's feet? Did you really do that?"
"Yes Sir."
I'm not sure where the word "Sir" came from. These guys were surely no older than me, in fact, they might have been a few years younger, but somehow it seemed the right thing to say. I was mistaken and knew it as soon as they exploded in laughter.
"Shit guys, did you hear that? Fucker called Brad `SIR'!"
"Hey faggot, has Brian had a crack at your ass yet?" asked Kevin.
A series of vibrations ran through my cock upon hearing those words. What if Brian was planning on taking this further? What if he intended to do THAT to me? Until now, I thought he was simply getting off on humiliating me, teaching me a lesson, and maybe enjoying a hummer or two in the process. Distracted by these thoughts, I took too long to answer Kevin's question and felt a hard smack across my ass that sent my cock pushing against the window again, smearing more juice on the glass.
"Answer me!"
"No!" I yelped. "No, they haven't done that to me!"
"Yeah, but I bet you'd let `em..." he shot back, his tone sounding almost disappointed. "Anybody low enough to lick feet and let two guys empty their nuts on his face would take it up the ass."
They continued their lewd comments for a few more minutes, occasionally punctuating one with a mean slap across the ass. When Brian and Tim returned, my newest captors walked away, leaving me fully exposed, and looked in the bag Brian was holding. I heard a new round of unsettling laughter as Brad, Kevin, and Phillip examined the merchandise. Tim finally broke through the laughter and made an offer...
"Brian, I may be out of place for suggesting this, and if you don't wanna share I'll understand, but maybe these guys would like to see the show Ricky was gonna put on for us tonight. There's plenty of weed and beer back at the house. I say we make it a party!"
"Fuck yeah! Good idea, buddy. What do you say, guys? I know it's kinda late, but you can just crash at his place tonight. We can relax, smoke some weed, and watch him play. I'm sure he doesn't mind, do you Ricky?"
What could I say? More than anything else, I just wanted to get out of this damn parking lot. At least in my own house I'd feel less exposed, even if it meant continuing this god-forsaken experience for a few more hours.
"No Sir, they can come over if you want..."
As I heard more laughing and a high-five or two, suddenly the door was being opened for me. I was thrust into the back seat and the sock was once again secured over my mouth. Brian and Tim both sat in the front this time, waiting a few seconds for the others to get to their car, apparently so they could follow us back to my house. I wondered what the hell had just happened, what was going on tonight?
Brian spoke to me only once on the drive home and that was to warn me not to embarrass him in front of the others, advising me to play along. He really didn't need to though; my cock had total control of my actions now. Despite my reservations, I needed to cum and knew that pleasing him was the only way to accomplish that tonight.
After arriving at the house, Brian got out to open the door as Tim led me inside with his foul sock still tied around my head. Brad, Kevin, and Phillip were not far behind. I was directed to the floor where I'd previously sat captive, the carpet still slightly damp.
The guys took seats around the living room while Brian ran to the kitchen, returning with a round of beer. He passed them out, even giving one to me after removing Tim's sock from my mouth. I appreciated the drink, as my mouth and throat were bone dry from the ecstasy.
"Ricky, you can relax for a while," Brian advised. "Remember, this is a party. I want you to have fun too. You don't have to sit in that uncomfortable position."
My mind was spinning, thinking to myself, "there he goes with that I'm your friend, I'm your enemy, I'm your friend again routine." He was becoming more unpredictable with every passing hour. I changed positions and sat with my legs crossed on the floor in front of the sofa, my balls resting in the puddle of precum I'd leaked earlier this evening.
"Just don't touch your cock," he added. "You remember the rules, right?"
"Yeah, I remember..."
Actually, I was so thankful to be sitting comfortably that I didn't care how embarrassing it was to be naked in my own living room in front of five other guys while being told what I could and could not do.
Tim grabbed the bong and proceeded to pack a bowl while they bull-shitted about a variety of things, acting oddly oblivious to my condition. We sat for at least an hour, getting more fucked-up and inebriated by the minute. I didn't speak unless spoken too; that wasn't a rule, but it allowed me to hide in a way, reducing my embarrassment. I tried to forget about the throbbing in my crotch, but it was like the proverbial elephant in the room, something everyone noticed, but no one talked about, and my iron spike of an erection just wouldn't subside.
As I sat on the floor, it gave me a chance to look over the new guys more carefully. Brad was the most clean-cut of the group, blonde and well shaven, even for this time of day, one of those lucky guys who didn't need to shave every damn day. About my height and build, he was wearing a t-shirt and khaki cargo-shorts with Nike cross-trainers on his feet, the shoes worn without socks. His legs were covered with a mat of short, thick, blonde, curly hairs that looked soft to the touch.
Kevin was a bit rougher than the other two, almost looking like he could be related to Tim. With dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, the features of his face looked hardened, serious, and he periodically glared at me, as if he was sizing me up. I imagined he was wondering how much of Brian's story was true, did I really want this or was I being manipulated? Unfortunately, I got the impression he didn't care one way or the other. Of the three, Kevin was undoubtedly the most ominous and threatening. Wearing a simple tank top and blue sweats that had been cut-off at the knee, and his feet were covered with a pair of black, Converse All-Star high-tops, obviously worn from years of use. He sat with one arm over the back of my couch, revealing the mass of thick, black hair sprouting from his armpit, matted down with sweat. When he reached for the bong, I realized he wasn't wearing underwear. The outline of his cock was clearly visible through his sweatpants and my own dick lurched at the sight, silently begging me to touch it. I berated myself for looking, humiliated that I was getting aroused. Brian noticed my cock's sudden, renewed vigor and grinned at me, but thankfully said nothing.
Phillip was the first to show the effects of the weed and alcohol, as he spilled his third beer on himself and my couch (which was looking more and more like it would need replacing). He jumped up after the accident, staggering around as we laughed at his minor drunken mishap. For a brief moment, I forgot how uneasy I felt; it was like being at one of our old college parties.
"Dude, get outta those wet clothes," Brian instructed. "I mean, Ricky's being pretty kind to let us party here tonight. You shouldn't be sitting on his good couch in wet jeans..."
"I guess you're right, man," he slurred.
Phillip sat his mostly empty beer on the end table and pulled his shirt over his head, stretching as he did. My nuts tightened in their sack, actually clearing the floor for a second when I saw the chest on this guy, which was at least as well developed as Brian's, possibly more so. Though he was a redhead, his chest was smooth and firm, without a stray hair or freckle to be seen. He'd only been wearing a pair of ragged flip-flops and he casually kicked those off in my direction as he fumbled with the button on his jeans. The others laughed as he staggered around, trying to pull them off, nearly falling in the process, but I just sat there mesmerized. He lowered them over a pair of white jockeys that were stained in several places, even torn on the right side just underneath the waistband. And since they were wet, they left little to the imagination as to what they contained. Pulling the jeans over his massive feet, he tossed them into the corner of the living room along with his t-shirt before sitting down, his feet coming to rest just a few inches from me. My cock started swinging again, prompting Brian and Tim to chuckle at my predicament. When I finally regained my composure, Brad was clumsily packing a new bowl and Brian was raiding my kitchen for what was left of the beer.
That's when I noticed a new sensation washing over my body, like nothing I'd experienced before. It was almost as if I was outside my own body, looking down at the activities going on in the living room without being a participant, unable to focus on the individual events or their meanings. I felt nauseous, but just thought I'd finally had too much to drink.
Brian's voice tried to shake me from the stupor.
"You OK, little buddy?"
I struggled to find the words to answer and squinted, trying to sort out the collection of double images in the hazy, spinning room. I nodded at him, but remembered how he hated that and fought hard to speak.
"I'm OK, just a little woozy," I eventually managed to say.
"He's not gonna get sick, is he?" asked Kevin from the couch. "You promised us a party!"
"Nah, I just gave him a little something to relax him," Brian answered. "Once he gets used to the feeling, our little boy will be a lot more obliging."
From my haze, I detected grins and approving nods from the guys, but the conversations were growing more distant. My sensory world was becoming totally disjointed and I feared for a moment I would black out. The room was spinning freely and, in an attempt to slow it down, I focused intently on the first thing I saw, Phillip's enormous feet. At least a size thirteen, I couldn't remember seeing such a large pair. I noticed small tufts of red hair sprouting from each toe and wondered if they'd taste the same as Tim's. I have no idea how long I stared, but heard laughter when drool ran down my chin. The spit slid from my jaw and landed on the taut skin of my cockhead, which was drooling spit of its own on the carpet. I wanted to touch those feet in the worst possible way.
"Shit, he's fucking out of it!" yelled Brad, or maybe it just seemed like he was yelling; I couldn't tell anymore.
Noticing movement, I fought to stop staring at Phillip's feet. Suddenly, I was being turned toward the television. Brian's muscular frame was looming above my body. When he spoke, his voice was gentle, unexpectedly encouraging. I actually smiled when I heard it...
"Ricky, I'm gonna show the guys the video we made with you and Tim. You know, the one where you sucked the jizz outta his cock. That is OK, isn't it? I mean, you don't mind do you? I just wanna show my friends what an excellent dick-licker you are..."
I was high and being manipulated. Brian was gonna play the footage no matter what I said. He just wanted to make me give permission. The drug had slowed my mind, so it felt like my answer took an eternity. Unable to find the words, I eventually just grinned like an idiot and told him to go ahead. Even stranger, part of me was actually looking forward to seeing the video.
"See, it's really not so bad when you cooperate, is it? You're feeling pretty good now, aren't you Ricky?"
I looked up as he cupped my chin in his hand and heard myself slowly moan my answer...
"Fuck yeah! Shit, I feel so good..."
As the video began, Brian disappeared behind me with the rest of the guys. I heard a lighter click and smelled cigarette smoke as we watched the footage of me cleaning Tim's nasty, crud-covered cock and taking it down my throat. My own dick was screaming at me to stroke it but I didn't, not because of the rules, but because the drug had me so fucked up I could barely move. Phillip dug his fingers into my shoulders and pulled me back until I was resting against the sofa between his legs. Looking down at his feet sent my prick crazy with lust. It pulsed uncontrollably with every beat of my heart, basting the shaft and my balls with a flood of slime. My pubes were a matted, nasty mass of hair, dried precum, and the fresh stuff continuing to pour from my dick. I was aware of little else while our homemade porno played and if the drugs hadn't made it so damn difficult to concentrate, I'm sure I could've brought myself off just from watching. I couldn't tear my eyes from the lurid images on my television, of Tim gagging me with his cock, long strands of white spittle hanging from my mouth as he pumped through my lips.
Through my fog, I heard Tim speaking...
"Brian, this is about the place in the video where I shoot. You'd better make sure the faggot doesn't lose his nut..."
"Shit! You're right, man. I nearly forgot."
Brian placed his large hands under my armpits and lifted my limp body, carrying me to his chair. He sat me on his leg and directed my unstable head back toward the television. As his knee pressed into the area between my balls and ass, it exaggerated the pressure in my cock, causing it to swell to a size I'd thought impossible. He began to bounce me up and down on his knee, gently at first, sending my cock flopping along with the rest of me, slinging my juice all over the room. One large glob landed squarely in my face and I stuck out my tongue in an attempt to gather it into my mouth.
"Damn! The slut is fucking nasty!" observed Kevin as he watched my torture with more attention than I liked.
I was close to a massive orgasm and everyone in the room knew it. Brian wanted the other guys to see me ride his knee to another violent edge while I watched myself get hosed down with our pizza guy's cum. Just as the recorded footage displayed my face getting painted with salty jizz, Brian reached around and squeezed my nuts. They were so slippery that his fist accidentally slipped on the first attempt, causing me to scream in pain. He was a bit more careful the second time and latched on firmly, pulling them up and away from my body. Out of the depths of me, I found words to object...
"Fuck! Brian, please let me cum. You promised it would only be a couple of hours. PLEASE! I'll do anything you want, even after you let me shoot. I promise. Just please, please...let me cum!!!"
The other guys were staring at us, astonished by my pleadings. Bit by bit, their incredulous expressions were replaced by the same wicked grin I'd seen so often tonight. At that point, I knew this was far from over. Somehow, I found the strength to struggle in a futile attempt to get away. I was far too fucked up, however, and Brian easily restrained me, holding both arms behind my back with a single one of his own. I fell into whimpering as he continued to bronco buck me closer and closer to the edge.
"Tim," said Brian while holding me secure, "Get the table from the kitchen and bring it in here. Brad, you help him. Put it in the middle of the room."
They had some difficulty retrieving it in their drunken condition, but eventually managed to place my kitchen table in the middle of the living room. The table was small, but since I lived alone and seldom had visitors, it was adequate for my needs. Brian quickly launched me forward and I landed stomach down on the flat, wooden surface.
"Hold him down for a second..." I heard him say.
Four sets of hands effortlessly restrained my nearly useless body while I vainly struggled to free myself. Brian stretched my arms forward and tied each to the legs of the table before securing my ankles to the rear posts. The table was the perfect length to stretch me out tightly, bent over at a ninety-degree angle, with my head hanging unsupported over the end closest to the television. My neglected and stubbornly hard cock had been caught by the edge of the table and had slipped underneath, now forced to point directly at the floor as it continued to drip despite the sudden change in my treatment.
Brian walked to the front of the table and lifted my head with a single massive hand. He was shaking his head at me and speaking in slow, deliberate words, like a parent would speak to a five-year old child.
"Now Ricky, you're being very ungrateful. I made a promise that I'd show my friends a good time tonight and all you can think about is yourself. That's really rather selfish if you ask me, wanting to cut the party short..."
Kevin let out a maniacal laugh and was quickly joined by the others. They were obviously waiting to find out what would happen next.
Brian continued...
"If I remember correctly you promised to put on a little show with the new toys I bought. What do you say, guys? You ready for Ricky's big performance?"
The question was answered with a round of raucous comments, every guy in the room ready to see the newest level of my humiliation. Brian's next sentence was actually spoken to Tim, but he made certain I was looking directly into his eyes as he said it, much slower than was necessary...
"Tim, get me the bag..."
A nerve-wracking chorus of lewd comments quickly filled the room as it suddenly exploded with activity. As Tim retrieved the bag, the other three moved to stand near Brian, all of them towering above me, my chin still firmly held in Brian's hand. The three new guys were obviously boned by this point. In fact, Phillip's worn jockeys could barely contain his excitement.
Brian released my head and asked Brad to hold it up for him. Reaching into the bag, he extracted a device I'd never seen before. It consisted of a series of black leather straps, the largest of which looked like a tiny belt, complete with a buckle. Dangling from the thickest strap were two smaller ones with metal rings sewn into the free ends. He placed the contraption under my nose and I smelled the fresh leather.
"Do you know what this is, Ricky?"
"No, what is it?"
"It's a ball stretcher, my friend. You're gonna fucking love this thing. You see, this strap buckles around the top of your ball sack and pushes your nuts down. Remember the way the rope felt earlier? Well, this'll feel almost the same, just a lot more comfortable than the rope. It'll help keep you from blowing your dicksnot all over the place and I won't have to constantly monitor you. Oh, and I bought a bunch of these..."
He pulled out a number of objects that looked like the sinkers fishermen use to keep bait under water.
"These hook onto the smaller straps and pull your balls lower. I bought a bunch of `em and thought we could see how much you can take..."
I was speechless as he held the devices before my eyes. His expression indicated he was pleased at my shock and proud of the control he had over me.
"Hey Brad," he asked. "You wanna do the honors?"
"No way, dude! I don't wanna touch his fag balls. He's been dripping on `em all night."
"I'll do it..."
The voice was Kevin's. My mind was at once flooded with memories of the way he'd been staring at me since his arrival. He took the device from Brian and was out of sight in a flash. I felt his hand encircle my nuts, pulling them lower and lower, before wrapping the leather around the upper portion of my bag. I closed my eyes, tensing momentarily when he tightened and secured the buckle. He grabbed the loose, dangling straps and started tugging them gently, causing my cock to drip anew. An involuntary moan escaped my lips and Brian smiled when he heard it.
"Told ya' you'd like it," he gloated.
"Hey Brian, how `bout some weights," asked Kevin, who was still bouncing my nuts within their new prison.
"Well, OK. But start with the smallest ones in the bag. They'll do the trick until he's ready for more. Guys, I'm serious about trying not to hurt him..."
Kevin attached the weights to the free ends of the dangling straps and gently started them swinging. Goddamn! How could I be enjoying this? Though the pain was relatively mild, the humiliation was extreme. Here I was, tied to my own kitchen table, in my own house, by an old college roommate and four other guys I'd just met tonight, high, horny, and cum-deprived. The swinging weights between my legs were causing my bloated cock to belch continuously. Just then, my slit opened, allowing what felt like a river of prefuck to drain from my cock onto the floor below. I started moaning again, only mildly aware of the five wolves circling me, but intensely aware of my need to shoot.
"Goddamn!" Kevin yelled. "You guys gotta look at this shit!"
Brad released my head so quickly it simply flopped forward off the edge of the table as they joined Kevin. After opening my eyes, I discovered I could see underneath from this position. In fact, I could see everything, including what the guys had gone to look at.
Pointing straight down, with its base pressed against the table's edge, was my obscene, distended cock. It squirmed as if it had a will of its own, pulsing due to the internal contractions that had been intensifying for some time. The bottom of my scrotum was stretched almost as far as the head of my inflamed cock, with the two weights undulating in independent and haphazard patterns. The most amazing thing, however, was the long, unbroken thread of precum extending from my glazed cockhead all the way to the floor, where it gathered on the carpet before soaking in. The strange prick lurched again and the strand thickened with the added weight of another bead of slime. The fresh bead of prejizz descended along the strand, like dew sliding down a spider's web, never breaking the link to its source. Someone jiggled my nuts slightly, apparently just to watch my tortured cock spit again.
"Fucking wild, man!" shouted Tim. "Brian, you gotta get this shit on video!"
Brian didn't need to be told twice. With the camera focused on my cock, they spent several minutes teasing it, watching it drip between my bound legs. I tried to stop looking, but simply could not tear my eyes from my captive dick. When they were ready to move on, Brian mounted the camera on the tripod and the guys assembled by my head. My former roommate grabbed my chin, lifting my face so he could talk to me...
"Don't worry little buddy. I bought some other toys too, but it's gonna be a long weekend and we should save some fun for tomorrow. I'm gonna make this holiday one to remember. Now that you're on a slow simmer, it's time for the rest of us to join the party. I'm sure you'll help us out, won't you?"
A new emotion, one I hadn't felt tonight, began to consume me: rage. All I'd wanted was to get reacquainted with my best friend and roommate from college over an extended, relaxing weekend, but Brian's visit had now degenerated into a freakish, backroom assault. I was being used and decided I wouldn't go freely, especially in front of a live video camera. Until now, my cooperation was based on the assumption that Brian would ultimately let me have an orgasm, or at least explain what he was doing, but this wasn't going to happen. Whether it was the drugs, the alcohol, or my growing resentment, I forgot about the pictures and the video, I forgot about Brian's unpredictability and my present vulnerability. Infuriated and without considering the consequences, I gathered a large wad of spit in my mouth and launched it upward at Brian's face!
A split second later, my face exploded in pain as his open hand collided violently with my cheek. This was by far the most intense sting I'd felt this evening but as badly as it hurt, somehow I knew he'd held back; if he'd really wanted to hurt me, he would have used his fist.
"Ungrateful fucking cunt!" he shouted.
Brian wrenched my head upward, glaring menacingly into my eyes. Lowering his face to within inches of mine, he pried my mouth open with his fingers and spit directly into my mouth with such force the glob hit the back of my throat before descending into my gut.
"Fucking gross!" yelled Brad as he watched the scene unfold.
Kevin was somewhat less surprised...
"Yeah, but the goddamn bitch deserved it. He spit first..."
From where he stood, Kevin hurled a foamy wad of his own at my face, his aim precise. It hit the bridge of my nose and continued forcefully upward, streaking across my forehead.
"Fuck yes! Hey guys, watch this," said an enthusiastic Tim.
Positioning himself above me, he tilted his head forward and simply let the spit slide from his mouth for several seconds, letting it fall on my face like icing on a cinnamon roll.
Phillip and Brad backed up somewhat, both laughing hysterically.
"Hey Brad, think you can hit him from here?" asked Phillip.
"Fuck yeah!" came Brad's immediate response.
Tim moved aside to give the guys a clean shot. Brad cocked his head and spit hard, but missed my face completely. The shot landed on my shoulder with an audible "splat" and slid disgustingly down my useless arm.
"Dude, your aim sucks!" observed Phillip. "You gotta hit his face! Here, do it like this..."
Phillip inhaled through his nose, creating a loud, rasping sound from his sinuses before launching his wad. His aim was dead on, the horrible projectile hitting me squarely between the eyes. He and Tim exchanged a drunken, frat boy hug of congratulations before offering Brad another attempt. His second try was more accurate and another slug of saliva landed on my lips, slid down my chin, and hung precariously for a few seconds before slipping to the floor.
"Fuckin-A, man!" yelled Phillip. "Now that's the way to do it!"
Brian lowered his face to within inches of mine. Other than me, he was only one in the room not laughing...
"You just fucked up big time, slut! Nobody pulls that kinda shit on me! I've been more than accommodating tonight, letting you satisfy your curiosity and trying to help you discover what you need. Hell, so has Tim. We let you lick our feet, let you taste our piss, and even let you throat our cocks until you got a stomach full of cum..."
When he clenched the back of my head, I realized the magnitude of my error. Whatever Brian's original motive had been, it was no longer moderating his actions, no longer providing him with a measure of impulse control. He meant every single word of his coming threat.
"And how do you repay me; by spitting at me? I'm not a goddamn idiot, Ricky. I knew part of you wanted to be our little party pussy and part of you didn't, so I tried to see that you got a little pleasure yourself. But you know what? I don't fucking care anymore if you have a good time or not. It's gonna be a long weekend. By the end, you'll either be broken in or just plain broken. You decide how you wanna play it..."
He turned toward the four other guys, who'd become ominously silent while listening to his heated tirade.
"You guys feel like spending the whole weekend here?"
Tim was the first to answer, barely containing his enthusiasm.
"I'm supposed to be delivering pizzas tomorrow. But dude, I'm calling in sick for this..."
Kevin, Brad, and Phillip stared at one another for a few moments, trying to decide. I shivered when I noticed the expressions of pure, demented glee that gradually washed over their faces. Kevin answered for the group.
"We were headed out to the beach for the holiday. But, you know, the hotels don't offer the kinda `services' we'd get here..."
"Yeah, and it'll be a hell of a lot cheaper," added Brad.
"Well then," Brian said smugly, "...it's settled. Ricky, you're gonna get to fag out all weekend with the five of us. How's that sound?"
In a single evening, my entire world had come crashing down around me. But through the haze of drugs, alcohol, and ever increasing hostility directed at me, I was nevertheless learning. Each time I resisted, tried to stop these events, my efforts resulted in pain. On the other hand, during my moments of compliance, when I relaxed and followed orders, I experienced pleasure. Though still unwilling to consciously admit I enjoyed these activities, that emotional struggle could wait; I could sort the truth out later. For now, I needed to behave like a rat in a laboratory experiment; avoid pain, amplify pleasure...
Nothing else mattered.
I cleared my throat and spoke...
"Let's just get started."
The room filled with the same enthusiastic sounds often heard in a locker room after a big win. Tim and Brad ran to the kitchen for another round of beer while Phillip and Kevin eyed me hungrily. Brian released my head and walked to the video camera, removing it from the tripod and attaching the cables to my television. Pointing the device at me, he set it to record.
"Hold your goddamn head up!" he barked.
I was shocked at the sight greeting my eyes. Displayed on my television, was my own, barely recognizable face, covered in foamy spit, with a huge, red handprint etched on my cheek. Underneath the thin, delicate lines of spittle, one particularly nasty glob was gathering weight under my chin, hanging by a thread, waiting to join the other fluids soiling my carpet.
"Your answer didn't sound very convincing, Ricky. I might've let it slide earlier, but that was before your little `incident'. We have a right to expect a little more enthusiasm from a guy who's about to have his dreams come true."
He let his words hang in the air for a moment while adjusting the camera until my abused face filled the television screen. The other guys were already starting a new round of beer and packing another bowl of weed. Once Brian was satisfied with the picture, he spoke only a single word...
"Beg!"
The chorus of catcalls from the others drowned out my initial, nearly whispered answer...
"Please..."
"Oh, you'll have to do better than that..."
"Yeah!" added Kevin. "Come on, bitch! Tell us what you want."
He swatted at the weights pulling my balls, sending them swinging, and providing a disturbing reminder that my cock was still hard.
"Please," I said a bit louder this time, "I don't know what to say..."
"Just tell me what you want to do."
"I want to cum..."
"Nope, wrong answer! You want something else," Brian corrected. "You learned something about yourself tonight, didn't you? Earlier, out on the deck, what did you discover you enjoyed?"
My head was swimming. I tried to remember, tried to think clearly as the drug-induced high swept over me. When I spoke, the blob of spit hanging from my chin shook loose and landed on the floor.
"I liked looking at you naked..."
"What specifically did you like about that?"
Thinking back to that moment, I remembered my fascination with Brian's cock, remembered watching it leisurely swell and throb while the massive head was still trapped within the confines of his tight, sweaty foreskin.
"I liked watching you get hard..."
The guys behind me tried to contain their laughter, and failed miserably. The smell of freshly burning marijuana filled the room again and the additional contact high only made me dizzier. The weights hanging from my balls were jiggled, harder this time, and my cock spasmed from the sensation.
"What made that hot for you?"
"I'd never seen an uncut guy get hard before. I was curious..."
"Oh come on, Ricky! You were more than curious. When it started to throb and got all thick, you wanted to do something with it, didn't you? What was it you wanted to do, that thing you wanted to try?"
I swallowed hard before answering.
"I wanted to touch it..."
"And like a good friend, I let you. Isn't that right?"
"Yeah, you let me touch it..."
"Dude," interrupted Kevin. "You got him leaking all over the floor again! This is fucked up!"
Even without looking, I knew he was telling the truth.
"And how was that, Ricky?" Brian continued. "Did you enjoy touching my big, uncut dick?"
My cock lurched aggressively in anticipation of the coming confession.
"Yeah, I liked it..."
I watched my face on the television, feeling as though it was a stranger making the admission. For some reason, that comforted me, making me bolder.
"What exactly did you like about it? Describe it for us."
"I liked the way your foreskin slides up and down, the way it can still cover the head even when you're hard..."
"Out on the deck, was there anything else you liked?"
"I liked the way you smelled..."
Tim laughed so hard he nearly choked on his beer, spitting it halfway across the room. Brian even broke character and grinned smugly from behind the camera.
"But you knew I hadn't showered today. I was sweaty and way past ripe. Are you saying you liked that smell, even though I was dirty?"
I nodded passively.
"You know I don't like that, Ricky," Brian corrected. "You've got a voice so use it..."
"Yes, I liked the way you smelled. OK, I liked it..."
"Tell me, Ricky. Before this afternoon, did you know a guy's feet could get you hard?"
"No, I'd never really thought about it before..."
"But mine got you hard, didn't they?"
"Yes..."
"And your cock started leaking, didn't it?"
"Yeah, I got really wet. It might've been the pot though..."
"Pot doesn't make a guy's dick leak, Ricky. Now be honest, your little cock would've started pounding even if you'd been stone cold sober, wouldn't it?"
"I wouldn't have done it if I'd been sober..."
"That's not what I asked," he said calmly. "Let's just pretend you'd have done it sober. Do you think you'd have thrown a rod?"
"Probably," I reluctantly admitted.
"What's the best part about my feet? What did you like the most?"
"It was the way they smelled..."
Someone, undoubtedly Kevin, added another set of weights to the ball stretcher and gently set the device swinging again.
"I thought so. If I remember correctly, it's not just my feet that turn you on. When Tim got here, you were all over his stinky shoes and those nasty socks he was wearing, weren't you?"
"Yeah, I was..."
"In fact, I think I recall you asking for permission to work on his big, smelly feet. Or am I wrong? We were smoking a lot so maybe I'm getting the details mixed up. Is that the way you remember it, Tim?"
The television screen became a blur for a moment as Brian pivoted to focus on Tim's face, allowing me to watch him answer the question...
"That's fucking exactly how it happened, even after I warned him how bad they smelled. It shocked the hell outta me, but I thought `What the fuck, my feet hurt'. Might as well let the faggot have some fun and get a massage to boot..."
"Wait a second!" interrupted Brian. "I just remembered, didn't you have to stop touching Tim's feet because you thought you were gonna shoot your fag wad all over the place?"
The new, heavier weights were set in motion again and the camera recorded my expression, a mixture of pleasure and pain. The contractions in my groin were becoming more powerful and increasing in frequency.
"Yes, I had to stop touching them. I was about to have an orgasm..."
"Then it would appear you enjoyed it. Tell me, whose feet did you enjoy the most, mine or Tim's?"
I thought carefully before answering.
"I liked Tim's better..."
"Tell us why, Ricky..."
"I like the shape of his toes, especially his big toes, looking at them from underneath..."
"Was there any other reason?"
"Yes..."
"What was it?" Brian insisted. "Be honest..."
"His feet smelled sweatier than yours..."
"I see. Well, back to the whole point of this exercise. You need to beg us before we're gonna do anything. Nobody here wants a sexual assault charge on their record. We need to know you want it. You've already admitted to a couple things you like. So why don't you start begging? Make it good and you might get something you'll enjoy..."
Brian was right. I'd already admitted it, on video no less, with four other guys listening. Worse still, every word had been the truth. There was no point in continuing to resist.
"Please, Brian. Please, I wanna lick your feet again. I'll lick Tim's feet, too. Anything you want..."
"Not anything I want, Ricky. This needs to be what YOU want..."
"I want it, PLEASE! Brian, I'm begging you. If you don't want your feet licked, maybe Phillip would let me do his. God, his feet are so fucking huge! I'll do all of you, but please..."
My voice became a whisper before I finished my thought...
"...I need it."
Once I stopped begging, I became aware of the silence that filled the room. There were no snickers, no laughing, and no playful, punchy comments, only a stillness that hung in the air as thick as the smoke from the bong. Brian had recorded every moment of my confession, including the humiliating culmination. Using the zoom feature on the camera, he filled the television screen with my disgusting face, making sure the focus had settled before he broke the silence.
"No. I don't think so, no more feet for you tonight. Maybe later this weekend, that is if we can find the time..."
My expression, displayed on the screen, was remarkable. I appeared to be, well...disappointed. Brian looked to the others and spoke...
"Phillip, you're up first..."
Phillip positioned himself in front of me, his stained jockeys tented out impressively. In an awkward maneuver, he reached through one of the stretched, gaping leg openings of his rank underwear and pulled his already pulsing cock and active nuts free, pointing his prick directly at my mouth.
"Hold it right there, Phillip," Brian instructed. "When you moved into the frame, the damn camera came unfocused. Gimme a second to fix it..."
I could no longer see the television as Phillip's body completely blocked my view. What I could see, however, was his engorged and angry cock staring me in the face. It emerged from a thick bush of tangled, red pubes and was laced from top to bottom with heated, bulging veins. The shaft tapered slightly as it neared the large, swollen head. As Brian adjusted the camera, Phillip gave it a gentle squeeze and pearl of clear liquid flowed from the open slit, causing me to instinctively open my mouth.
"Dude, we're all set," Brian advised. "Have fun..."
He slapped my face with his thick cock five times, thoroughly wetting it with the spit still sticking to my cheeks. I didn't struggle; it all seemed so pointless now and soon the large, slimy head was lodged in my throat. Phillip didn't fuck my face, at least not at first. For now, he just wanted to watch me swallow it. Securing the back of my head with one hand, he pushed unhurriedly deeper, never giving back the ground he was gaining, never retreating, until I smelled the familiar scent of crotch. The last inch made me gag, causing him to pull out and force it back until my nose returned to his sweaty bush. Gagging had caused my mouth to produce an unbelievable amount of mucus, which ran down both my chin and the large balls nestled there.
That's when he started my skullfuck...
"Hell yeah, just like that," Brian encouraged. "This is his third blowjob tonight. He doesn't need more practice. Give it to him hard..."
Phillip wrapped one hand around my neck, at the Adam's apple, getting off on feeling his cock punch into my tight upper throat.
"Fuck!" he shouted. "I can feel it going down!"
As the other four offered encouragement, Brian filmed yet another homemade porno with me as resident bitch. Phillip's harsh throat fuck soon caused him to reach the point of no return.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Goddamnit, he's gonna pull the jizz right outta my balls. Shit, here it comes..."
Holding my head tightly, Phillip slammed into my face once more before abruptly becoming still. My throat expanded with each pulse of his throbbing cock, which was now pumping dicksnot into my throat. I wasn't fully prepared for his orgasm and attempted to breathe during one of his shots, sending spooge down the wrong way and causing me to gag uncontrollably. If Phillip cared, he didn't show it; rather, he maintained his grip on my skull until he was fully spent. When he finally pulled out and stepped aside, I caught a glimpse of myself on television, coughing, wheezing, and spitting up cum.
"That's fucking nasty, man!" observed Kevin. "There's a series of movies like this, `Gag Factor' or something like that. Brian, you could make a fortune selling this video, even if it is a dude getting gagged!"
Brian laughed wickedly in response and zoomed in closer on my face.
"Yeah, I'm sure there's a market for this kinda shit. Maybe we should start a website..."
"Seriously though," interrupted Phillip, "the fucker can take a dick. That was incredible..."
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and retrieved a beer, shamelessly leaving his messy cock hanging from the side of his filthy briefs as he wandered around my living room, dripping remnants of cum and spit everywhere he went.
"Who the fuck is next?" he asked while casually taking a sip of beer.
"Dude, it's my turn," said Brad. "I'm so ready for this..."
Brad had long since removed his t-shirt but was still wearing his khaki shorts and Nike cross-trainers. After fumbling with the button on his shorts, he allowed them to fall to his ankles. Though his cock wasn't as long as the other three I'd sucked, it was thicker than any of them, jutting out from his blonde pubes like an iron poker. His prior quiet manner evaporated quickly as he placed his rigid dick near my lips and grabbed my head, pulling my face upward to stare into his eyes.
"Listen, fuck-puppet! I've got a sweet spot on my dick, right under the slit. You're gonna stick out your tongue and lick that spot until I cum. I'll help you find it, but I'm not gonna do all the work like Phillip just did. Your tongue is gonna get me off and I'm not gonna do a damn thing, you got that?"
I hesitated. It was a mistake.
"Bitch didn't answer me!" he yelled. "Kevin, give him some more weights."
"NO! I'll do it, Brad. Kevin, please don't...ahhhghhh"
More hellish laughter filled the room as Kevin added more weights to the contraption on my balls and set them swinging between my legs. I stuck out my tongue, touching the cockhead in front of me as close to the spot he described as I could.
"A little lower, bitch! Yeah, right there; that's the spot. Open your eyes and look so you'll know where it is. Think you can find it again?"
"Yeah..." I groaned.
"Good, now just keep licking. If you do it right, I'm sure you can make me cum like this..."
As I worked feverishly on Brad's "sweet spot", Kevin kept the ball weights in constant motion. The muscles in my crotch were contracting again and again, trying desperately to initiate my orgasm. Meanwhile, Brad's cock was beginning to seep freely from the slit. The spot he wanted me to tease was underneath the opening where his juice escaped, so every drop flowed directly onto my tongue. His prick began to jump around, almost leaping away from me. It would pulse up, away from my tongue, and I'd have to find the spot all over again. Once more, my view of the television was obscured, but from the comments I was hearing, it must have been a sight.
"Shit, the fucker is really getting into it!"
"I know it. I've never seen anybody this into cock."
"Guys, this dude's got mad skills," added Brad.
This odd method of giving oral sex was taking far longer than the typical blowjob. Still, I knew better than to stop. Despite my fatigue and a growing cramp in my neck, I obediently continued the tongue job he was so obviously enjoying.
"OK, you're getting me close. When I shoot, just keep tonguing that same spot. Don't stop until I pull my dick away from your mouth..."
Hoping to speed this exercise along, I increased the tempo, wildly flicking the tip of my tongue over his highly sensitive "spot". It worked incredibly well and he was soon approaching orgasm...
"Oh God, here it comes, keep doing that. Yeah, just like that..."
His cock was bouncing around rebelliously now, requiring a lot of effort to keep my tongue in the right place.
"Yeah fucker, I can feel it coming. Get ready. Don't stop..."
His cock shuddered violently and, with nothing to hold it steady, pulled away from my tongue, pointing almost straight up. My eyes, which were no more than three inches from the leaky head, witnessed the slit open before slinging a massive eruption of thick, white cum clear over my head. Something searing hot landed on my ass and I knew Brad's cum had not only shot over my head, but arced high enough to clear my back as well, landing just above the crack of my ass and sliding into the crevice between my cheeks.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" yelled Tim, obviously astonished. "Brian, please tell me you got that on the video!"
"I lost the top of the arc, but his ass was in the frame when it landed."
The energy of that first shot caused a rebound effect, forcing Brad's dick to swing back down, where my tongue once again flicked his sweet spot. Surging again, it spewed the second shot right into my mouth. The third slung a wad of gooey semen up my forehead, where it ran down into my left eye, stinging like a motherfucker. Still, I kept my tongue working, wringing out three more healthy blasts from the cock thrashing in front of my mouth. By the time Brad finished and backed away, my face was covered with his dickslime.
"Hell fucking YES!" he screamed. "If my girl could do that, I'd never leave her apartment..."
Brad was already walking away, allowing me to see the thick goo deposited on my sticky face. For a moment, I zoned out watching the strange, warped image of myself on the television, and only half heard Tim talking to Kevin.
"I know I've already had a turn tonight, but do you mind if I go next?"
"Be my guest, man," answered Kevin. "I can wait..."
"Hold up," interrupted Brian. "I wanna get a shot of something..."
Brian took the camera and moved behind me. Since I could no longer see him, I looked at the television instead. After a few shaky, unfocused images, the picture cleared. He was recording footage of my ass!
"Tim, grab his ass cheeks and pull `em apart..."
Mortified, I watched Tim spread my ass wide and saw the huge, first shot of jizz Brad had slung over my head, sliding slowly down the cleft of my cheeks. The wad stopped momentarily, gathering in the slight depression of my asshole, before its weight forced it lower, sliding over the leather strap confining my nuts, and slipping off the weights below.
"Mother-FUCK!" yelled Tim. "That's the nastiest thing yet! Hey faggot, you got cum dripping outta your ass and you ain't even been fucked yet!"
On the screen, I saw a finger emerge and inch toward my hole. I think it was Kevin's, but I can't be sure. It gathered a bit of the juice still clinging to my anus and pushed in, taking the white glob with it. He didn't push in far, actually just up to the first joint, but the sensation set off a reaction in my body that was not lost on anyone present. I started moaning and bucking my hips passionately. I needed to cum and this felt like my moment. I pushed back on the invading finger as far as my limited mobility would allow, determined to get myself off. Kevin immediately recognized what I was attempting, however, and withdrew his finger, leaving me groaning like a bitch in heat. Familiar voices laughed cruelly as Brian rewound the footage and we watched my brief finger fuck several times in rapid succession.
"Please guys," I begged. "I'm doing what you wanted. Please, please just let me cum!"
I was nearly hysterical with lust, the muscles between my legs cramping from the repeated contractions. Brian was not amused with my pleadings...
"Tim, go shut the faggot up..."
Tim instantly filled my mouth with his nasty, uncut cock for the second time that night. Horny and ready to nut, he fucked my mouth ferociously, and emptied another load of cum inside barely before we'd built up a good rhythm. When he extracted his cock, it dragged several disgusting strands of spit and cum along with it, the foamy filaments connecting the tip of his prick to my lips. Brian enthusiastically filmed a close up of the slimy fluids while I gasped urgently for air.
"Fucking-A!" Tim yelled. "I gotta tell ya, dudes. I think he's actually getting better. That was fucking hot!"
Slapping his cock against my face, he caused the cum-spit bridge to break and hang in a loop, dangling from my lower lip. If possible, I looked even sluttier than before. It was the kind of image you'd find on the cover of a hardcore pornographic DVD.
"You're up, Kevin!" he advised. "Thanks again for letting me break in line..."
When Kevin moved into position, I noticed his tank top was gone, but he was still wearing his cut-off sweats, looking every bit as intimidating as I remembered from earlier.
"If I understood your little `confessional' correctly, you like uncut cock. Is that right, faggot?"
When I opened my mouth to speak, all I managed to do was blow a bubble of cum and spit from my lips, causing my living room to explode with laughter yet again. Using my tongue, I cleared the area so I could answer him...
"Yes," I replied meekly.
"Then you're gonna fucking love this one, dude."
Just when I thought I couldn't feel like more of a whore, Kevin began to slowly lower his sweatpants. He was unmistakably teasing me, making me wait for it and my prick dripped again in anticipation. When his cock eventually cleared the waistband, I let out an audible gasp; it was the most amazing penis I'd ever seen and it wasn't even hard, dwarfing the throbbing dick between my legs. But the size was not the only notable feature. His cock was simply beautiful, with a foreskin so long that over an inch hung limply past the bulge demarcating his crown. A silvery strand of precum dangled from the bunched up folds at the tip of skin as he slid the sweats over his feet. While I stared, enthralled by his piece, he unlaced his foul, canvas All-Stars and slid them off as well, placing one sweaty shoe on either side of my head. He then stood back to simply let me drink in the sight of him. The smell of his sneakers, combined with the drugs and the intensity of my own hunger got the better of me. Brian sensed it and adjusted the camera to zoom in on my face as I prepared to let go, to leave no doubt in anyone's mind that I wanted this cock...
"I need it..." I whispered.
"What did you say to me, faggot?"
I cleared my throat to speak more plainly, no longer caring that the video camera was directed at my face, recording this genuine admission of desire.
"I need it..." I repeated, louder this time.
"Damn! That's what I thought you said," he answered as he leisurely slid his hand up and down the length of it, causing the dangling strand of glistening precum to increase in length by at least two inches.
"I wanna taste it," I brazenly moaned, knowing I'd have to deal with the consequences of admission later.
"Wow! That sounded kinda trashy, dude," he teased. "What if I don't like my bitches as slutty as you?"
"Kevin, I'll do whatever you want," I said without taking my eyes off his cock. "I'll act anyway you want me to act, just please let me taste it..."
The room instantly fell silent. I knew my last comment had surprised everyone, except for maybe Brian. Fuck! I'd even surprised myself with those words. I heard Tim's voice after a few awkward seconds...
"D-U-D-E," he whispered tortuously slow. "He really meant it that time..."
Brian quickly raised a finger to his lips to signal to the others not to speak, almost as if he was afraid their banter would break the spell. Kevin continued...
"You want what's about to come outta this dick? Is that it? You want me to fill your mouth up?"
"YES! Fuck yes! I want it. Please Kevin, let me have it..."
The pent up emotions within me came flooding out at once, my desperate pleadings all caught by the camera in Brian's hands.
"Well, just remember," Kevin said softly, "you begged for it..."
He inched forward, placing his still soft cock within an inch of my open, waiting mouth, before stopping unexpectedly. I remained motionless, hoping he'd put it inside me, hoping he'd let me suck it and run my tongue under his hood of skin, hoping he'd let me experience the taste of it. Instead, he just stood, leaving me unfilled...until the first, warm stream of his piss rushed out.
Brian was ecstatic, scrambling to capture this disgusting scene with the camera.
"Kevin, you're a fucking pro, dude!"
Now that the first jet of hot piss entering my mouth had been caught on camera, Kevin felt free to push his soft, still-gushing prick inside my mouth. I immediately formed a seal around it and began to swallow. He had caught me off-guard, but at that moment, I needed the cock in front of me, no matter what kind of fluid he was slinging. Reaching down, he used one hand to pinch off my nose, cutting off my air supply. Still, I continued to sip from his cock until the piss was coming in short spurts he was obviously forcing from his bladder. Once he was empty, he extracted his cock and allowed Brian to film my still open mouth struggling to pull it back inside. When he took another step backward, I thought I would lose my mind...
"Kevin, please let me suck it!" I begged pathetically.
"Sorry, dude," he replied. "Blowjobs just aren't my thing. Don't worry though; I'll fuck you later this weekend once Brian decides you're ready. But that's all you're gonna get for now..."
I screamed like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum as he pulled his sweats back up to his waist.
"No fucking way! Please Kevin, GODDAMNIT! Please let me suck it!"
Brian approached me quickly. A hard slap to the face sent piss, cum, and dangling spit flying off in all directions and instantly shut me up, bringing me back to reality. His unspoken message was clear; I was not in control here.
"Hey Brian," interrupted Tim. "You gonna let him shoot tonight? I mean, his dick is starting to look a little painful."
"Hell no!" came the response I expected. "He'll be a lot more cooperative tomorrow if he's still all strung out..."
He turned off the video camera and placed it on the floor near his feet before bringing this nightmarish evening to an end.
"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat. Ricky's got a nice house. Make yourselves at home. Find a place to crash and get some good rest. Leave the master bedroom for me and Ricky. It's gonna be an awesome weekend!"
As the guys wandered through my house, each looking for a place to sleep, Brian knelt by the table and began to untie my arms and legs. Once they were free, he reached for my nuts and carefully unbuckled the device binding them, speaking softly as he worked...
"I'm proud of you, Ricky. Well, except for that unpleasant little spitting episode. All in all, tonight was a success. You're well on your way..."
"I'm on my way to what?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"By the end of the weekend, you're gonna be my bitch," he said plainly. "I mean, you were gonna let me stay here until I got on my feet anyway. Now I'm thinking about a more `permanent' arrangement. Believe me, by Monday evening, you'll want me to stay forever. Do you think you can walk to the bedroom?"
"Yeah, I can make it..." I answered.
Despite my assertion that I could walk, my legs were weak and I needed his support to reach the bedroom. Once we were both comfortably in bed, and before sleep overtook me, I dared to speak again...
"Brian, I don't wanna be your...well, that thing you said..."
"The weekend's not over, dude. Get some sleep. I've got a lot planned for tomorrow and neither of us will enjoy it as much if you're not rested..."
Even in the face of that ominous statement, I was sleeping soundly less than a minute later.
Thanks for all the encouragement! Keep reading!