Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between young men. If you find such material offensive or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't read any further.
(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
I was shocked when Chris' buddy Chuck suddenly asked me "Hey, are you a faggot?"
I was taking him and another guy named Larry home from a drunken get-together of some members of the college football team. I had already dropped Chris off at home and was now going to drop the other two off. They had already made a mess of the back seat of my car, and I was afraid one of them was going to get sick and vomit because of all the booze they'd been drinking. That's all I needed! Chuck's question, then, caught me totally off guard. For a moment I didn't have any idea what to say.
"Come on, man," Chuck said impatiently. "I asked you a question: Are you a faggot?" I could tell that he was starting to get belligerent and that, in his current state, I didn't know what he was capable of doing. My father's words suddenly came back to me about hitchhikers being nothing but trouble. It looked as if I was about to learn the hard way.
"No way," I said to Chuck. "I'm no fag, I never even thought about it. What the hell gave you that idea?" I said, trying to sound tough and masculine.
"I seen the way you were looking at Chris and the rest of the team. Besides, what straight guy would take off another dudes football cleats or rub his feet for him. I say only a faggot, and I think that's just what the fuck you are!"
"Look, man, I'm doing you a favor by taking you home and this is the way you act?" I said. Maybe I could shame him into shutting up until I could get him home. But then Larry got into the act.
"Hey Chuck," piped up Larry, "I think he's takin' us home because he's got the hots for us. He's probably hopin' we'll let him suck our cocks or something."
Chuck laughed. "Dude, I could use a good blow job right about now. I'm horny as hell. Besides I hear that homos give the best. I guess because they get the most practice." He laughed again. "That right, homo?" Chuck said softly right into my ear. I almost passed out from the smell of stale beer on his breath.
My cock had begun to stiffen the moment Larry mentioned a blow job. It was something I had been thinking about more and more as my attraction for Chris and these other studs increased. What would it feel and taste like to have one of their hard cocks in my mouth?
"Um," I stuttered, betraying my indecision. "No, I don't know anything about giving a blow job."
"Not knowin' and not wantin' are way different. Guess all we gotta do is teach you, right fag?" said Chuck, bending over the seat and noticing my hardon. " Hmmmm, seems to me that you're ready for your first lesson." He ruffled my hair like you would a little kid. "Okay, fag, we're gonna see how quick you can learn. Pull over."
I was stunned by this order, but my cock was in charge again and was dripping precum at the thought of falling on my knees before these two beefy studs. I hesitated, realizing what giving in to Chuck's demand would mean.
"I said, pull over you motherfucker! Do it--unless you want a broken arm. I' ll do it, I swear, now PULL OVER!!"
That was it. Both fear and desire caused me to brake the car and pull off the road. Fortunately the section of road we stopped on was relatively deserted. I had a feeling that Chuck, for all his arrogance, didn't want to be seen with a cocksucker . . . I never thought I would use that word to refer to myself, but now that I did, something about it seemed right. Was I screwed up, or what?
I got out of the car and walked around to the far side, away from the road. I had left the headlights on. Chuck and Larry, both giggling, ordered me to my knees. I was far from comfortable with gravel digging into my knee caps and two drunkin football players towering unsteadily above me. Even in the semi-darkness these two studs really turned me on. Both were over six feet tall and solid muscle from the looks of them. Chuck had blue eyes, dirty blond hair which he obviously gelled, and a sexy thorn tattoo around one bulging bicep. Larry had hazel eyes, light brown hair with streaks of blond that hung down to his shoulders, several tattoos, and a gold earring. Either one of them could be a poster boy.
From where I was kneeling I was on a level with their crotches. I could only imagine what was inside those torn jeans. "Okay, fagboy, you ready to do what you do best?"
Not knowing what else to do, I reached for the zipper on Chuck's faded jeans. He immediately batted my hand away and stared down at me.
"Hey, cunt, did I give you permission to touch my cock? First I want you to kiss my feet and then I want you to beg for the privilege of sucking me off."
I was in for another dose of humiliation which, undoubtedly, would be spread around the school. "Go ahead," he said impatiently. "Get down there where you belong!" Before I could move he backhanded me twice, knocking me to the ground and making me feel like he had loosened a couple of fillings in my teeth. I felt blood trickling from the corner of my mouth and thought I might have a shiner in the morning too.
"That's just a sample of what comes next if you don't do a good job--or do you get off on that too, you sick bastard?"
Getting up on all fours with my cheeks burning, I slowly crawled over to where Chuck was standing. I saw his sneakers, dimly lighted by the car. I saw the look of contempt on his face. "First kiss em and then lick em you piece of shit," he growled. "Now!"
I kissed each of his sneakers with what I hoped was the right degree of ` respect'. Then I started to lick, getting the combined taste of rubber, leather, and dirty shoestrings. I was also hit by the strong smell of his unwashed feet. He was wearing black, mid-cut Nikes over white sweat socks.
"Look at him, dude," Chuck said to Larry. "Chris said that he was shameless. I wish he could see this! Man we should take some photos of this."
After I had thoroughly licked the tops of his sneakers he hopped onto the hood of the car and offered me the soles. Trying to suppress a gag, I forced myself to lick and clean the bottoms of the Nike's. I was glad that I couldn't see clearly so I didn't have to look at what I was licking. I could only feel the pebbles and other gunk in the treads which I carefully tongued off. Meanwhile Chuck was calling me every filthy name he could think of, while laughing at my submissiveness. From time to time he would playfully plant one of his sneakers on my face and push me to the ground. Then both he and Larry would laugh as I got up again and dutifully continued my work.
"Hey," said Larry, not wanting to get left out of the fun, "my shoes are filthy from today's practice. I haven't changed `em. They need a good cleaning by a faggot's tongue too."
"Patience, my man," said Chuck with a broad grin on his face. "I want him to finish me first. Then he's all yours."
They were talking about me as if I didn't even have feelings, but somehow my cock decided it was time to go and started gushing.
"Look, man!" Chuck shouted as I shuttered from my orgasm, "he likes this shit so much he's getting his nut. Man that is so pathetic! Hey fucker, don't get any of that fag juice on my feet or you're gonna loose a few teeth."
My pants were a sticky mess as I started on Larry's shoes. He was absolutely right that they were filthy. For the first few licks, my tongue just felt dried mud.
"Get it all off, dude," he said. "Lick that mud `til it softens up. Then you can swallow it right down into your fag tummy." Chuck laughed at that. It wasn't as easy working on Larry as it had been on Chuck. His football shoes had deep cleats and the mud was stuck in the grooves. The two of them were in hysterics as they watched me struggle with my new duties. Again I was close to gagging as I cleaned the gunk off his filthy shoes.
"Hey," said Larry, "he cleans cleats so well maybe we should make him official `cleat cleaner' of the team." Chuck laughed hysterically. "Like that idea faggot?" I was horrified by the idea and answered the question with a grunt since I was still licking.
Once I had finished, my mouth felt like a hole dug in the ground. Grit covered my tongue and clung to the sides of my cheeks. I didn't dare spit it out, but tried not to swallow too much either.
"Okay, fag, you did a pretty good job," Chuck said, walking around to the headlights and examining his sneakers. "Now beg for our cocks."
Fearing another smack across the face or something worse, I tried to put on a good act, although the grit in my mouth made it difficult to talk. "Please Chuck, may I suck you and Larry? I'd really like to make you feel good and I'd love to taste your cum. Please?"
"Whoa, there," said Chuck, clearly enjoying my debasement. "You don't ask me about Larry's cock. Show the man some respect. You ask him if you can suck his cock. As for me, I'm not so sure I wanna get sucked by a guy whose got mud all over his tongue. It'd be like sticking your cock in a garbage can. Whatdaya think, Lar?"
"I say this little piggy is disgusting. I ain't gettin' my cock anywhere near him. This is the only thing I got for him." With that he hawked a huge wad of spit and let it fly directly into my face. Chuck laughed and did the same thing. Then they told me to open my mouth and slimed my mud-covered tongue. I had never felt so low, but my cock was at it again. The guys were not slow in pointing this out. It only encouraged them, and they kept spitting on my face and in my mouth until they were dry.
"Okay fuck-face, let's get goin." Chuck said, "I gotta get my beauty sleep."
"You could sleep for a week and it wouldn't improve your looks," laughed Larry.
"Up yours!" Chuck shot back, "I fuck twice the chicks you do."
"Yeah," said Larry, "those are pity fucks. They all feel sorry for ya . . ."
"Okay shithead, quit fuckin' around and give me my beer. I'm all dry from spitting on that fucker."
There wasn't much left in the two beer cans since they had rolled around the back seat of my car and spilled most of their contents on the floor. Chuck took out his frustration by pouring the rest of the contents over my head. "Here fairy," he said, "this is your payment for bein' so nice to us." He and Larry both high-fived each other.
Before I turned on the motor I heard Chuck and Larry whispering to each other and drunkenly giggling. "Hey wait a minute faggo," Chuck said. "You got us all worked up and we need to relieve ourselves."
I heard two zippers being lowered and then movement on the back seat. "Keep your fuckin' head straight forward," Chuck threatened, "or I'll twist it so you can look at your ass from now on." Larry giggled.
After a moment I knew what they were doing. I could hear them start to beat their shlongs. "Hey, man," said Larry, "ten bucks on who comes first."
"Yeah you know you're gonna win," shot back Chuck, "because the fag got you hot to trot."
"Up yours," Larry said, "Ahhh, you don't jack worth shit."
"That's cause I don't get all the practice you do," Chuck laughed. "I use a hole when I fuck."
And so on and so on . . .
Finally I heard both of them getting close. "O shit, I'm getting' real close, dude" groaned Larry, as a felt the car slightly rock under the weight of two beefy football players flogging their meat.
"Fuck, me too Lar, this is gonna be a big one."
At the moment I didn't exist for them. Their only concern was getting their rocks off. Then I thought about the back of my car. It was already stained with beer . . .
The two of them let go at almost the same time. I heard twin groans of pleasure accompanied by a barrage of curses. Just then I felt warm spray hitting me on the back of my neck and running warmly down inside my shirt collar. Another spurt hit the dashboard and slowly slid down toward the radio. Incredibly one white glob flew threw the air and landed on the rear view mirror. It ran down, leaving a slimy trail behind it and hung like a string in mid-air. I looked at it almost curiously.
"What the fuck?!" Larry said to Chuck, "you should go out for archery. I never seen cum fly so far."
"That's me," Chuck bragged. "I always go for the distance."
Both Chuck and Larry were coming down from their orgasms. "Give me your shirt, " Chuck ordered. Finding myself more and more disposed to follow these guy's commands, I stripped off my shirt without question. Chuck used the shirt to thoroughly clean of his cock and belly of cum. Then he offered it to Larry. By the time Larry had finished, it was nothing more than a cum-rag. Chuck heaved it, and it landed on my head.
"Here," he said, "put it on."
"But Chuck," I protested, "that shirt is covered with cum. It's not even dry!" "I don't give a shit. I want to see ya wearing it. It kind of shows who's the boss here. Ya see we're marking you with our sperm. From now on you do what the team tells you to do. I'm gonna tell Chris about it tomorrow."
The shirt was drenched and totally sticky. As I pulled it over my head I tried to hold my nose to avoid the smell, but it got all over me. Finally it was on, and my face and arms were streaked with cum.
"Looks much better, doesn't it Stanton?" Larry asked. "See, we want to help you make a good impression at school. Man, this will get you lots of attention. That's why we want you to wear it to school, right Chuck?"
"Yeah, Lar," that's an awesome idea, "you wear that shirt every day for a week, faggot, and then just maybe we'll go easy on ya' for awhile."
Chuck then pulled hard on my ears. "Giddyap" he laughed.
Finally we got moving again and ten minutes later we arrived at Chuck's house. Since Larry lived only three doors away, they both got out.
"Thanks for the ride and the clean-up, scum-bag. See ya around." They walked off without looking back.
(to be continued)