Warning: If hard-core sex featuring consenting adult men turns you off, don't read the following. The characters are all fictional. Thanks again to everyone who sent suggestions for this installment and for your positive feedback. Glad to know it got you off. Sorry for the delay with chapter 4. Its been a crazy year: moved to a new city (NY, NY). Lots of changes. Hope you enjoy this, and if you do, drop me a line at jaybob23@hotmail.com.
Hearing a man's voice in the darkness I instinctively pointed my ass at the doorway where, I hoped, the next big dick was coming from. To my dismay, the shadowy figure turned out to be the local sheriff, and he wasn't looking to fuck. Instead he wrapped me up in a scratchy army-surplus blanket and escorted me to his car. The bikers had disappeared into the night. The acrid fumes from their engine exhaust still hung in the air.
For the second time that day, I had a strange sensation of deja vu, as though this man were someone I already knew. I couldn't shake the feeling, but thought perhaps it was just my cock-hungry state--and the sheriff's rugged good looks--that made him so familiar.
It amazed me how big and handsome the men in this town were. The sheriff was in his early forties, with a body half that age. He kept his salt-and-pepper hair almost militarily shorn and had a carefully groomed goatee and mustache. The cut of his uniform accentuated the broad stacks of muscles rippling outward from his shoulders and down his arms. The wide plane of his chest was dotted with two pencil-thick nipples. The thin harness stretching across his chest held his gun by his left arm. The way he rested his big hands on his wide utility belt made a leathery crackling sound that had me salivating.
I couldn't identify anyone in the "Wanted" posters he handed me. After all, the mug shots weren't of hard, spewing cocks, and that's about all I'd seen that night. There was very little I could tell him. The sheriff already knew who I was. Earl had called the stationhouse earlier in the day saying to be on the lookout for some "missing property." My heart sank when I realized Earl thought I'd strayed.
"Did any of them use their names, or say where they were headed next?" the sheriff asked as he handed me a badly xeroxed "Reward" poster that pictured a man astride a motorcycle.
"No sir." I studied this last poster closely. I couldn't be sure if it was the same man who had just kidnapped me, but the feeling that the grainy old photo sent through my groin was pleasantly the same.
"You know that man?"
"No sir. I mean, I don't think so. No sir."
"Uh-huh. You don't sound too sure of yourself. Take your time. You know we've had us a prison break over at the State Pen?"
"No sir, I didn't know."
"Uh-huh. The mean motherfucker in that picture--his name's Bud--he was among the escapees. About that time folks reported seeing a gang of rowdy looking bikers. I just thought there might be a connection. I mean, you were gangbanged tonight by bikers, weren't you son?"
"Yes, sir."
"Kind of a strange coincidence. Also strange that you just happen to show up at Earl's about the same time that Bud . . ."
The sheriff let his thought drift off, then he stopped the car abruptly and grabbed me by the neck. "Listen boy and listen good. If I find out you're lying to me . . . if I find out you're trying to make a fool outta me, I'll kill you with my own two hands. Understand?"
"Yes sir." I answered, suddenly more afraid than I had been all night. "I would never lie to you, sir. I don't know the men in the posters. I mean, they could be the same ones from tonight. I don't know. Please sir. I just wanted to earn some money for Earl. They promised me five hundred dollars. They kidnapped me. I never really saw their faces."
The sheriff took the wheel and continued driving. "I'm not sure I'm buying it, son. I mean, they kidnapped you and they were going to pay you too? That just don't add up."
The sheriff was right. If the bikers were going to kidnap and rape me, why bother offering me money initially? And why did they go through with the charade of everybody throwing in bills for the `entertainment' once they had me at the cabin? It didn't make sense.
The town was a dismal collection of abandoned buildings, all shuttered with plywood. At the center was the only light, a street lamp in front of the police station. As the sheriff let me out of the car, I rubbed my ass, which was sore and still dripping cum.
"Ass hurts, huh boy?" he asked tenderly.
"Yes sir," I answered.
"I know it son," he said, unfastening his wide leather belt. "That's what makes this so tough."
With his free hand the sheriff took me by the collar and stretched me across the hood of the car. I fought under his grasp, but he kicked my feet apart and kept me bent forward. The heat of the engine burned my chest and face.
"Sorry son," he said. "I promised Earl I'd give you twenty lashes for deserting your post."
"But sir, I was kidnapped and . . ."
"And another five lashes for talking back. Now be still and take it like a man, you bitch."
Lifting my head slightly, I could see the reflection in the windshield as the sheriff's thick, flexing arm lifted above his head.
Crack. The first strike of the belt was like boiling hot shards of glass. My scream bounced off the car's hood and out through the ghost town's empty streets.
"What do you say, faggot?" the sheriff demanded.
I could barely form the words, but managed somehow to whimper, "Thank you, sir."
Crack. A second thrashing exploded across my asscheeks like a blast of buckshot at point-blank range.
"Thank you, sir." I sobbed.
Crack. The belt curved up under my rounded cheeks, raising goose pimples across my backside.
"Thank you, sir."
Crack. Crack. Crack. I jolted each time the belt bit into my assflesh. Crack. As the sharp sound faded the belt was already swishing through the air on its next pass. There was a split second of hopeless terror before I felt the hard leather ripping across my raw butt.
Crack. In the instant between the tenth and eleventh strikes, something strange and unexpected happened: A dark, secret door opened in my soul, revealing a hidden chamber of yearning that could be filled only by pain. I began craving the belt. My cries of "Thank you sir " became insistent, and I leaned back into each cut, turning to expose the most sensitive, untouched areas to the sweet sting.
"What a fucking pig you are," the sheriff growled approvingly, pulling his arm back even farther and bringing down the belt with a short, solid motion. Crack. "You just love someone tearing up your ass, don't you faggot?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you for whipping me sir."
I pushed my shining, enflamed buttocks higher in the air and spread my shaking legs, exposing my dangling balls. Crack. The twisting leather struck my sack, splitting exactly between my smarting nuts. Instantly my cock began draining its load of cum and piss. A stream of ooze leaked from my cockhead, joining the flood pouring from my burning boypussy, all running thickly down my legs and the side of the squad-car.
"Oh, yes. Thank you sir. Please don't stop." I begged. Between lashings I dug out the hot salty cum from my ass, sucking it from my gooey fingers.
"You fucking whore." Crack. "My belt's gonna wear out before your ass does." Crack. Crack. Crack.
By the time the sheriff had reached twenty five, I was twirling my glowing rump around in the air and smacking my crimson cheeks with the flat of my hands. Turning back I could see the sheriff's uniform trousers tenting out and a dark trail of precum running down the tan fabric. I licked my lips and wondered what it would be like to have him hung up inside me.
Throwing the belt to the ground the sheriff reached out to plug my dripping hole with three fat fingers. He unzipped, hauled out his dick, and stuck it in deep.
Unlike the bikers, the sheriff fucked slowly, methodically, smoothly swirling his plump cock around in my guts and varying the depth and strength of his plunges. A series of small jabs caused his big rounded head to pop in and out, teasing my tight, sensitive ring. His long strokes skipped along my innermost folds, bumping against my prostate and forcing my cock to pulse wetly with every plunge. The sheriff's hands roamed across my chest, seeking out and tugging at the two tender buds. His trousers rubbed roughly across my enflamed asscheeks with every thrust. Soon he was fucking frantically at my hole as I pushed back greedily to meet him.
"Take my hard fuck you horny bitch," he grunted. "Take it. Take it you horny fucking bitch." Using my nips as handles, he bent me backwards and put his mouth to my ear. "You horny fucking bitch. You horny fucking bitch." His cock began shooting, firing his slick, hot jiz inside me. I collapsed onto the hood of the car, his hard throbbing dick the only thing keeping me from slipping to the pavement.
The sheriff had scarcely finished emptying his balls before he pulled out, squatted down, and began lapping at my hole. The heat from his tongue and the scratch of stubble against my pussy sent me to pure pig heaven. When he dipped the tip of his tongue in, he was rewarded with a mouthful of hot fuck juice. He stuck a finger inside and began to scoop up his cum, licking and slurping up the spent cream like it was honey from a hive. Soon his palms were wrapped around my ass cheeks and his thumbs were pointed up into the purple lips that oozed and dribbled and drained that syrupy manjuice.
The pleasure of his tonguing stopped when I heard a strange sound: The "clink" of metal hitting the asphalt. I turned my head and watched as the sheriff fished around on the ground. When he stood, he held aloft a big silver ring. The look in his eyes terrified me.
"What the fuck is this, you lying, fucking cunt?" he demanded. The sheriff's face was contorted with anger as he held the ring to my eyes. It was the PA that the lead biker had lost up my ass.
"So, bitch," The sheriff backhanded me full across the face. "You swear to me you don't know who fucked you tonight? Huh, bitch?" He slapped me again.
"No sir. Please."
"You lying whore. Is this your man's?" the sheriff demanded, spitting in my face. "Does this PA belong to your man, you lying sack of shit?"
"No, no sir."
"You fucking bitch." He dropped the ring into his shirt pocket. "I knew it wasn't any damn coincidence you showed up at Earl's place just before Bud breaks out of prison. You're a fucking accomplice, you stupid lying fuck."
"No. No. That's not true." I cried.
"The fuck it's not." The sheriff bent me over the hood of the car again and plunged his thumb deep in my ass. He reached around my nuts with his fingers, compressing my sack in his palm.
"Where did they go, faggot?" he demanded as he contracted his hand, crushing my balls. "Where did Bud and his crew go after you helped spring them from prison?"
"Please. I don't know what you mean." My face flushed with pain. Small stars sprinkled themselves across my eyes and my breath became shallow and labored. "Please sir. I didn't help them . . . I didn't . . . I . . . Please. Oh, please stop."
"Why are you protecting him, faggot?" The sheriff leaned in close to me face. "Do you think Bud gives a rat's ass what happens to you? Shit son, you helped him escape and all he did was dump your ass when he heard me coming. Give him up, bitch. Where did they go?"
The sheriff's grip became tighter and I began to squeal and to beg, "Mercy. Oh, please sir. Mercy."
The pain subsided slightly. "What did you say, boy?"
"Please sir. Mercy." Then I remembered hearing that word in the cabin just before the bikers left me. "Mercy," I gasped again, realizing that Mercy' must be the name of a place. "Sir, please. Tonight, at the cabin . . . someone said . . . it sounded like . . . it sounded like Mercy'."
With his thumb still planted in my ass, the sheriff marched me up the steps of the police station. I kept protesting that I didn't know Bud and that I didn't help him escape, but the sheriff didn't believe me. Each time I opened my mouth he just became more enraged.
"You're gonna be sorry, you ever met Bud, that good-for-nothing piece of shit," he said as he handcuffed my wrists to the door of the police station. Unable to contain his fury, the sheriff slapped me once more across the face. "I'm gonna go over to Mercy and find that motherfucker, then I'm sending you both up the fucking river for good."
"I'll have the paddywagon pick you up soon, faggot," he said as he headed toward the car. The sheriff wiped his hands on the blanket, stuffed his big cock back in his pants, then turned and called out. "By the way, bitch. I think it might be fun to tell Bud that you turned him in for the reward money." He laughed sadistically. "They just love a snitch in the State Pen."