Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between teenage boys. 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.
"High School Blues" part 21: Cleaning things up...
I was careful to clean Mike's porch, just as he had ordered me. Meanwhile the guys were fiddling around with a couple of the dirt bikes, shooting the bull, and drinking beer. Every once in awhile Mike would come around to the back porch where I was working and ask me to bring another round of beer to the guys. I had made sure there was plenty of beer in the frig so it would be cold when the guys asked for it. I found myself running around to the front of the garage at least three times with fresh beers for the guys. As they got more buzzed they also got more abusive.
"Hey, here comes the waitress again," yelled Tod. "Make sure to give her a tip." He laughed and then pinched me on the behind, causing me to drop the tray with the beers. "She must be new," he said. "Good thing them beers are in cans honey or you'd have to give us a free round!" Everybody laughed as I picked up the tray and went back to my work. I was feeling humiliated again, but found myself getting in deeper and deeper.
Once again I was having mixed feelings--or should I say my cock and my brain were disagreeing. My cock jumped when Tod pinched me, and I stared lustfully at his hunky body before I picked up the tray. My brain was screaming that no one should have to put up with this stuff, that I should go to my parents, to Terry, even to the police to stop this abuse. As usual, my cock won out. I thought about Tod with his V shaped bod, his wide shoulders, narrow waist, big bulge stuffed into his tight jeans, bubble butt and long blond hair. Just the thought of him mounted on his cycle and kicking up dirt as he roared across the field was enough to make me cream in my pants. My brain shut down and I went back to work.
By the time the guys came in I had finished my work--the porch was spotless. " Good job," said Mike, "Just one more thing I'd like you to do. Go around to the front and pick up all them beer cans and put them with the others in the closet." As I obediently hustled off to the garage he yelled, "Good boy!"
"Man," said Phil, "looks like you got yourself a slave already. You got him hypnotized or something?"
"Nope," said Mike, "like I said, training, just training. A little bit at a time. Just like a dog."
"Well," Phil laughed, "that's some doggie you got there. I hope he's house broken so he doesn't piss all over your furniture."
"Oh, he's broken," Mike said, suddenly serious, "in every sense of the word. You just wait and see."
Shortly after the cleanup most of the guys left to go home for dinner. Mike and Jimmy sent me for some Chinese take-out and a few more six-packs of beer. Initially I didn't want to go with my bandages and black eyes, but Mike said it would be good for me to keep moving so I didn't stiffen up. That's why he had me clean the porch. Luckily I had a big basket on the rear end of my bike that I sometimes used to run errands for the folks. I peddled over to the Chinese restaurant, which was not too far away, and ordered from the menu that Mike had marked and given me. The server just barely looked at me. I guess he was swamped with work and told me to sit; my order should be ready in ten minutes. After I got the food I stopped at the market for the beer, hustling so the food wouldn't get too cold.
I found my strength giving out on the way back to Mike's. When I got there Mike and Jimmy were watching an action video and hardly acknowledged that I was there. I got some plates and silverware from the kitchen and laid them out on the coffee table in front of them together with the food. "Help yourself, man,"
Mike said indifferently. Neither of them offered to reimburse me for the food and beer which I bought with my own money.
"Before you sit," Mike said to me, "get us a few more beers. Get one for yourself if ya want." After dutifully bringing in the beers and grabbing a Coke for myself, I took some of the wontons, ribs, fried rice, etc. and sat on a chair across from them. Besides guzzling the beer, they had lit another bong and were passing it back and forth. They were getting buzzed very quickly.
After eating the rather soggy food I asked Mike if it was okay that I go to bed early since I was exhausted. "Yeah, sure," said Mike staring at the TV.
"Do you have a bathtub I could use?" I asked timidly. I thought if I soaked in a tub it might help to ease my stiff muscles.
"There's one at the top of the stairs on your right," Mike said. "Make sure you clean it up real good when you're finished. I'm sure dad is out all night again so you can take your time. We'll take a look at you tomorrow before you go home. I have another story you can use with your folks if ya think the one about the boxing might freak them out. Best place to sleep would be out on the porch on the sofa. There are blankets in that closet on your left--help yourself." He was being nice again. If only I could figure this guy out!
"Thanks Mike," I said, "See you in the morning." No answer, just a muffled laugh when Jimmy said something to him.
I ran the water warm in the tub, stripped, and stepped in. The warm water helped ease the stiffness in my body tremendously. I looked at the large bruises that had formed on my ribcage that I hadn't noticed before. As I soaped them up they were very tender to the touch. I ran more hot water in the tub and just relaxed for almost an hour. It felt so good I almost fell asleep. I had the forethought to bring a change of clothes in my backpack and put those on as I padded downstairs. I passed Mike and Jimmy as quietly as I could, but they were both stoned and giggling at some porn they were now watching, and were oblivious to me.
I went into the kitchen, got myself a cold Coke, then headed for the closet to get a blanket. I heard a yell from the living room--it was Jimmy. "Hey, Zits, is that you? Bring us another round of beers before you zonk out."
Ever the obedient servant, I got them their beers. I was ready to excuse myself and head for the closet and grab a blanket so I could hop into bed when Mike stopped me. "Hey Joey-boy," he said. "Jimmy and I were just talkin' about our chicks. We were hopin' to see them tonight for a little fun but they both copped out. Now here we are with hardons and nuthin' to do with `em. Ya know how much a guy suffers when he gets blue balls?"
I just looked blankly at him, not having any idea what he was talking about.
"No," Mike laughed, "I guess you don't. Ya see Joey-boy when a real man thinks his chick is gonna put out and she doesn't, he still needs to get some relief. Now that's where you come in."
I now understood what he was getting at, and once again my emotions were in turmoil. I knew that he and probably Jimmy too were gonna ask for at least a hand job. If I did it they would know for sure that I had the hots for them. They would use it against me. But again my hormones were overruling my reason. These two hot guys were talking about me servicing them and almost immediately I started getting boned.
"Well I guess we got our answer `J'. I figured our little buddy here was just waitin' for the call to get at our meat." Both of them were sitting on the couch looking sexy as hell with their legs spread wide, and their tight jeans tented. They were smiling suggestively at me and then, almost at the same time, started pulling down the zippers on their jeans.
"Get over here Zits," Jimmy ordered. "We got some work for you to do, and you better be ready for it. No, not like that, man, on your knees."
I crawled over to them as they pushed the coffee table back with their feet to give me room. When I got near Mike he grabbed me by the ears and pulled me into his crotch. He had not taken a shower that day and his smell was overwhelming. I couldn't help myself. I buried my nose in his faded jeans and burrowed into his boxers which were already sticky with precum.
Mike laughed again. "Look at the little piggy here. He loves the smell of crotch. Told ya he would," he said to Jimmy.
At that moment I was beyond caring what they said. I unbuttoned Mike's jeans and helped him slide them down to his ankles. His huge cock pushed through his boxers and bounced right off my face, leaving a trail of slime across my cheeks and the bridge of my nose.
"Suck it, faggot," was all he said. After a moment's hesitation I licked the precum off his cockhead and began to bathe his shaft up and down. "Yeah, that' s the way Pinky; I knew you'd be good at this. I bet you've been doing this all along for Mahoney and Greenburg. Well things are gonna be different now. You're gonna be our personal cocksucker whenever our chicks aren't available. It's kinda nice, isn't it `J' to know that there's always gonna be a warm hole to stick your cock in?"
"Yeah," said Jimmy. "Look at `im go. He looks like a natural. Course he's had lots of practice--and he'll have a hell of a lot more before we're through with him."
"Fuck!" yelled Mike, as I took his cock fully into his mouth. "Those swollen lips of his feel like a cushion. They kind of flex on my cock and massage it right down to the root. Wait till you feel the fucker. We're gonna have to punch him in the mouth every time we want a blowjob!"
I only heard this conversation dimly what with my `work' and the moaning and groaning of the porno movie playing on the TV. I was doing my best to give Mike a really good blowjob and maximize his pleasure. I didn't want to face him if he were disappointed, what with that temper of his. At the moment, however, he seemed to be in heaven. His soft groans led me to glance up at his face which looked utterly content. His eyes were slightly closed and he was breathing heavily through his mouth. He began to push in deeper and deeper as I attacked his cock with my tongue, pushing it against the roof of my mouth and massaging the ridge along the bottom. His thrusts became more pronounced and powerful and he started penetrating my throat. I knew he was getting close. I felt his cock quiver and swell and I waited for the inevitable flood of cum.
Instead he pulled his cock out of my mouth with a loud pop and shot a huge load all over my face. I was so surprised at first that I didn't see the flash of the camera. As his cock continued to spurt, there were several more flashes. I realized they were collecting evidence that I was a cocksucker, and that it would make me even more the prisoner of their abuse. When he was nearly finished Mike re-inserted his spurting cock into my mouth and let loose the last few shots down my throat. He than had me clean all remaining the cum from his cock before he pulled it out, wiped it dry on my shirt, and pulled up his pants. "Next," he laughed.
"Hey," said Jimmy, "the faggot's got cum all over his face. Did you get a picture of that? Okay, then wipe it off, shithead, and don't get any on me, or I 'll add to those bruises Shawn put there this morning."
Jimmy wanted to face-fuck me so he ordered me to lie down on the rug and straddled my chest. "Open up you piece of faggot shit," he demanded, as he slapped me again and again with his hard dick and smeared his precum across my lips. I opened my lips which were now painful not only from the cuts but from the vigorous fucking I had received from Mike. "Let's see how you service my big rod with those fat lips of yours." Both Mike and Jimmy laughed uproariously at that.
"Give it to him hard," Mike encouraged Jimmy. "Shove that fuckstick all the way down his cocksucking throat. Yeah, that's the way!"
Jimmy was holding my ears as he pounded my throat, giving me no chance to suck or massage his cock. He was simply using me like a cunt. I tried to make it good for him by pulling in my cheeks to maximize contact with his raging cock, and he seemed to approve. "Yeah, that feels awesome. Keep that up and you'll get a nice juicy snack real soon. But not too soon--I want to enjoy this...Fix that bitch Carol I was gonna fuck tonight. Pisses me off when she calls at the last fuckin' minute to tell me she can't make it. Think I may have to dump the stuck up cunt..."With that thought in mind, he slammed into me even harder. He was getting so into it that he would lift his tight ass off my chest and crash it down again as he pulled his cock out of my throat only to thrust it back in again.
The whole time he was fucking my face, he was talking trash to me, calling me every degrading name he could think of. At the same time he was thoroughly enjoying himself as was clear from his moans, which got louder and louder. Jimmy was holding my ears so hard I thought he was going to rip them off. The one Shawn had kicked was especially painful. I felt like hollering, but couldn't with my mouth stuffed with his cock. All the while Mike was snapping pictures, making sure to cut out Jimmy's face and make sure mine was in full view with a big cock filling it.
"Damn, this feels good," Jimmy said to no one in particular. "You were right about the lips, Mike. They feel like sponges coverin' my dick and movin' right along with it. Awesome! This fuckin' pussy makes a damn good substitute cunt."
Suddenly he cut short his chatter and concentrated on the feelings coming from his cock as he neared orgasm. Waves of pleasure rippled from his cock through his entire body. I could feel his muscular legs quiver and tighten on either side of me. Then his back arched up and he drove his rod deep into my throat as he began to discharge. He didn't pull out like Mike, but shot directly down my throat. He kept his cock buried so long that I thought I would pass out. Finally he pulled it out into my mouth savoring the warmth surrounding his dick as he finished his orgasm. Like Mike he insisted that I get every drop of cum out of his cock and clean it thoroughly. "I don't want any of that shit on me, cumbreath, so make sure you don't leave anything. Ahhh, that's it. Feels damn fine!"
When he was finished he planted his sneaker squarely in my face and pushed me away so that I fell on the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table.
"Okay, Zits," Mike said. "Good job. Now you can go beddy-bye and dream about our big cocks in your mouth and all that cum in your belly and on your face."
This was what I had been waiting for. I quickly excused myself and went back for the blankets. Actually it wasn't bad at all sleeping on the porch. The sofa was comfortable and the weather surprisingly warm. Within minutes I was sound asleep blotting out all the horrors of this endless day.
I woke up in the middle of the night with Mike planted heavily on my chest. " Open up cocksucker," he said. "I have a midnight snack for you."
My cock sprang up immediately with his warm tight body straddling me and his hard cock pointed at my lips. The blowjob seemed to take forever and that's the way Mike wanted it--nice and slow. When he finally moaned and came, cursing as he did, he flooded my mouth and once again pulled out and covered my face. Man, could this guy produce sperm! Before he left he warned: "Don't wipe it off fag. I want you to sleep with it on ya and smell it all night. Get used to it, ya know."
I got up around ten on Sunday morning. I didn't hear any noise so I assumed Mike was still asleep. The cum had dried on my face like a tight mask and I wanted to get it off as soon as possible. At the same time my tongue shot out to taste just a drop. When was I ever gonna make up my mind about what I wanted?
Looking through the front window, I saw that Jimmy's motorcycle was gone so I presumed he went home at some point after I fell asleep. I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. After I washed off the cum, I was surprised to see that it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. The ice packs, applied almost immediately after the injuries, had almost eliminated the swelling of my eyes and ear. My lips, of course, were still cut, and I had scratches across my face. I did very clearly have two black eyes that I could not explain away to my parents. Of course I could wear my sunglasses home but they wouldn' t work in the house. However, they might buy me enough time to explain what happened before the folks saw the gory details. I debated as to which story would be more convincing: the boxing' or the motorcycle accident.'
In the end I decided to tell the truth. I had been hanging out with a group of guys I knew from school and we went to the house of this fellow, Michael Cunningham, who had a gym in his basement including a boxing ring. All the fellows paired off and we had an amateur boxing match. I must have been paired with the wrong guy because he ended up totally out-classing me. Michael had been the one who was nice enough to let me rest up and stay over night.
When my mom saw my face she wanted to take me to the hospital immediately.
"It's not so bad," mom, I said. "Mike gave me some ice bags and the swelling went right down. Nothing is broken: my nose is fine, my teeth are fine. Just a few bruises, that's all."
"That's all!" she screamed, "you're seriously injured and you say `that's all.' Well wait till your father sees you!"
Surprise, surprise, for once my father took my side. "I'm not happy about the bruises, son, but I'm glad you're finally getting the gumption to learn to defend yourself. I'd say this is a major breakthrough for you. I've been worried about you, so passive and quiet. I think this is just the thing to get you out of your shell."
Dad did want to check out my story this time, however, so he called Mike's house. Mike, of course, played his part perfectly. "Hello, Mr. Crawford," he said. "this is Michael Cunningham...Yes sir, Joe was over at my house yesterday and stayed overnight...Yes we did have some boxing matches...I'm really glad you called. I was worried about Joe after his match and made sure we cleaned up his cuts and got ice packs on his bruises right away. You should have seen him, Mr. Crawford, you would have been real proud. Everyone was really amazed that he defended himself that well when he never fought before. I'm just sorry he got all those bruises. I really think he's a quick learner and that it won' t happen again...No, I don't think he should box again for awhile either. Maybe it's best that he just comes and watches for now; he can watch the guys and maybe learn a few new moves...Yeah, we're real happy he's part of the gang...You too, Mr. Crawford...Yeah, I hope to meet you soon too, sir. Bye."
"Well," dad said, "he sounds like a very respectful young man, the kind that would make a good friend. I think you could learn something from him. Good choice, son."
And that was that. I called Mike that evening and told him everything was okay. "Cool," he said, "see you tomorrow at school."
I must have gone to bed around 8:00 pm that evening. I gingerly ate dinner (unsalted soup and ice cream) and then soaked again in a tub for one hour. I treated myself to some of Michelle's bubble bath and just let the warm soapy water penetrate and ease my sore muscles. Unfortunately the water could not do anything for my poor face. The scratches and cuts, however, had already scabbed over. But the black eyes were really blooming. I decided to wear dark glasses as much as possible when I was at school--give myself a touch of early Tom Cruise. Course with my pink hair the resemblance was not quite perfect, but was enough to make me even more popular with the punk group.
I saw Terry in the hall way that morning. "Dude!" he almost shouted. "What the fuck happened to you? Were you hit by a bus?"
"Uh, remember you taking me to the gym the other afternoon and showing me those boxing moves? Well I decided to try them out myself yesterday with some of the guys from school. I guess I got a lot of practicing to do yet."
"Who were you sparring with dude?" he asked.
"Shawn Kelly" I said. "We held the matches over at Mike Cunningham's house."
"Dude," said Terry with some concern, "those guys and the punks they hang around with are bad news. I don't trust them; I think they would do anything to get what they want."
While inwardly agreeing with him I said, "Oh, I don't know, Terry, they seem to be fair and square. We had a good fight even though I took a beating. How am I gonna learn if I don't practice with a real opponent?"
"Do what you want, man," Terry said, "but don't say I didn't warn you. I would be very careful when you're dealing with Cunningham and his buddies. That' s just the way I feel."
Okay," I said, "thanks for the advice." At that moment I was tempted to tell Terry the whole story of what had been happening these last few months but I just couldn't. At least not now.
When I saw Mike and Jimmy later that day they told me that they were finally getting their new bikes this Friday. Both of them had big grins on their faces and almost looked like little kids getting their favorite toys. "Remember you' re still gonna have to help us out: $100 a week for now. But it's pretty obvious you can do it. You've been at it for over a month now and everything is working out fine, right dude?"
"Yeah, Mike," I said, "its working out." I didn't want to talk about the extra weekend work (I had to beg off last weekend), how much I had to cram my studies, and how tired I was from staying up late to finish my homework."
"That's way cool," said Jimmy. "Listen this Friday evening we're having a little party to celebrate getting our new bikes. It's just gonna be the guys you know, plus a few other dudes. I told ya that you're the guest of honor. Come around 7:00 pm. We promise to get you home early so that you can get to work on Saturday. You are comin' dude, ain't ya?"
"Yeah," I said with a smile, "I'll be there." I figured that I really couldn 't say no, and besides it didn't sound like anything wild would happen. Just an ordinary group of teen guys with some beer, loud music, and maybe a little pot. I was used to all that by now, and even though I wasn't comfortable with it, I certainly could handle it.
(to be continued)