This story contains hints of a minor sexually, physically, and emotionally pulverizing an older man. It is purely fictional and derived from my imagination. Please don't email me saying how disappointed you are that I wrote this, because I don't care. If you have constructive criticism or compliments, feel free to message me! Thank you!
I had only briefly chatted with Jamie before agreeing to have him over. He was kind of dumb, just a regular, strong small town boy who spent most of his time in the field or in the gym. His voice was deep and not boylike at all. In fact, if I hadn't known he was so young, I would have thought he was a college student. I was paying him a lot of money to keep his mouth shut about this encounter, though something tells me he wouldn't have told anybody anyway. His town wasn't cool with homosexuals at all.
When I heard his old truck in my driveway, I unlocked the door and waited on the porch for him. He was young at 16 years old, but taller than me and certainly more muscular. I wasn't much to look at anyway. Just a slender guy, with skinny arms and skinny legs. In my mid forties, I was quite well off where by the way Jamie was dressed, I could tell his family was probably lower class. His work boots were caked in mud, his jeans were dirty, and his white wife beater was filthy with sweat and dirt, like he had been working outside that summer day.
I had met Jamie on a male escort site, and I knew he was straight. Straight as they come. He was a wrestler at the local high school of a town about twenty miles away, and it showed that he was dedicated to his sport. His jeans hugged his thighs tightly, and his muscular arms were easy to admire with his shirt not having any sleeves. When he locked his hand in mine for a friendly shake, it felt like he could have crushed my fingers to the bone without much effort. A toothy grin let me know he had the same thing in mind as he towered over me.
I offered him a water, but he simply nudged me out of the way and helped himself to a beer from the fridge. Taken aback, I went to get the bottle opener, but there was no need. He simply wrapped the head of the bottle in his bicep and gave it a light squeeze. The cap flew off and he didn't bother to pick it up. After taking a long swig, he sat himself down on my soft leather couch and looked up at me.
"You know, a guy like me shouldn't be looking up at a man' like you." he put sarcastic emphasis on the word man'. Now, I had known Jamie was a dominant, cocky teenager. He had told me that. But I thought he might introduce himself first. Nevertheless, I liked his attitude, so I knelt down in front of him. He smelled like a mechanic would, like oil, sweat, and dirt all in one.
"I've never actually done this." I said meekly, as I looked up at his tough, serious face.
"You mean you've never had a stud like me over at this big house?" he asked.
"No, I have-" I started to say, but he backhanded me lightly. My head jerked to the side from the force, but a dreadful feeling told me he hadn't hit me nearly as hard as he could have.
"I think you should say `sir' every time you talk to me." he said, although it was clear he wasn't offering a suggestion, but a rule.
"Yes, sir. That sounds fair, sir." I said, my head still ringing from the big knuckles of his hand. "No sir, I have had guys over to this house, sir, but I have never paid them, sir." I said, stuttering slightly, fearful of angering him.
"You know, little man, I have never fucked a guy without getting paid. Whether he liked it or not, he was gonna pay me." Jamie laughed.
"Sir, do you mean you took their money?" I asked.
"Yeah, but they never saw nothing `cause I would just knock them out before I did it." he said as he rubbed his crotch, like he was getting turned on just thinking about it.
"Do you need help, sir?" I asked eagerly.
"Listen slut, I know you want me. Most guys do. But we're doing things my way, so first, take off my boots." he said. I began to unlace his boots, and the second I removed them, the stench of his sweat-soaked socks hit me full force in the face. I fell to the floor completely and clutched my nose, but it was no good. The smell penetrated the entire room and he just laughed.
"If a man's feet smell clean, he ain't a blue-collar man, sorry to tell you." he said cockily. "If it affects you this much, wait till you smell my ass. For now, take off my socks."
I composed myself forcefully and looked back up at his big feet. If I had to guess, I would say they are at least a size 14. Very wide, too. I think that one foot could have easily covered my entire face. As I removed his socks, his man stench got stronger. I could tell he was enjoying the comfort of my sofa as I nearly collapsed from the smell of his feet.
He didn't wait long before moving on with the show, though. He removed his shirt and pants, leaving him sitting on the sofa with only a dirty jockstrap on. The combined smell of his sweaty pits, his big feet, and his hairy package was almost too much for me to bear, but after he forced me to smell his pits for a good ten minutes straight, I began to love it.
"Strip down to your underwear, little man." he instructed me. "We are going to wrestle to determine who is fucking who tonight." I trembled. I knew, without a doubt, that he would have me crying for mercy in a matter of seconds. He exuded a type of confidence that shot down any hope of winning. Regardless, I did as I was told and endured laughter from his end as I showed him my scrawny body.
"I can put one hand around your entire bicep. Isn't that kind of sad?" he smirked. "And compare your thighs to mine.. it's pretty embarrassing. How much do you squat, boy?" he asked me.
"Sir, I don't know. I don't lift weights." I said, feeling smaller than an ant at that moment.
"I can tell." he sneered. He easily relocated a few pieces of heavy furniture to form an open area in my living room, and he got in an aggressive standing position. "Ready boy?" he asked without waiting for an answer. Before I could react, I found my head trapped by his legs wrapped around me and my face in his package. He playfully flexed his solid calf muscles and laughed as I reacted to the pain of his steel-like calves flex against my throat. I choked with each flex and I could feel him getting an erection.
"You will never know what it's like to force a man into mercy like this." he said arrogantly as he demonstrated just how helpless I was by lifting my entire body into the air with just his legs. I weakly tapped on his shins as a sign of submission, but he just laughed harder.
"This isn't the UFC, boy. You don't get to give up whenever you want. Tell you what, how about $500 more than what we had agreed to and I will skip this part and go straight to the fucking." he suggested.
"Screw that!" I blurted out. I was wealthy, but I hadn't budgeted to give this kid over $1000 for tonight.
"I am your MASTER!" he bellowed in a dominant, masculine tone. "I honestly wasn't asking, you fuckhead. I am a straight alpha male and you're just a weak, rich old man. Here is how it is going to happen. I will beat you into such submission that you will never question me again, then I will fuck you until your intestines feel like they're going to fall out. You will give me however much money I want, and you will like it."
Fear penetrated my just confident being. I was instantly brought back to reality, which involved this muscular wrestler of a teenager who was choking me out with just the power of his calf muscles. He moved his bone-crushing leg grip from my head to my thighs, where he ruthlessly squeezed until I could no longer feel my legs. The pain was almost unbearable, but a bigger worry of mine crept up when he took off his jock-strap and laid his hairy ass on top of my face. I flailed a little bit, hoping for any chance of escape, but that escape never came. He had to weigh at least 200 lbs, and his rank ass was planted firmly on my face. My nose was deep inside of his ass, and the smell almost knocked me out completely.
"How does that feel, little man? I mean, you can try to use your arms and legs to escape, but it'll just hurt you. I won't feel your weak punches." he said with such confidence that I strangely found myself getting hard.
"Aw, is this your hardon?" he mocked. "It's such a little thing." he painfully flicked my penis with two fingers, like a person would flick a bug away. Of course I could not reply, lest I get a taste of his teen hole, but that would happen anyway.
"I know you're dumb and all, but stick your tongue up there too. That's what they call a rim job." he said. I felt so defeated. I was not dumb; I was a trilingual neurologist who made over half a million every year. But this dominant teen was exploiting my strong desires and fantasies and making me into his personal plaything. I had never rimmed a guy before, so I had no idea what to expect. His boyhole was tight, as I doubt he had ever let anyone get inside of it. But my God did it smell like a man's should!
He removed his ass from my face and I got to see his dick for the first time. I nearly passed out at the idea of it being inside me, because for every inch it was long, it was thick. It was as hard as a rock, and when he playfully thumped it against my face, it felt like a police baton was hitting me in the face.
"I will give you ANYTHING to not stick that in me." I said pathetically.
He put a rough foot on my face and forced me to smell it once more. "WHAT did I SAY about calling me SIR?" he yelled as he forced his foot more painfully into my face with each stressed word.
"And have you already forgotten who is in charge? I told you I was going to take whatever I wanted, and that's what's gonna happen! Regardless of what I do!" he said. He roughly flipped me over with the nudge of his foot, his calf lightly flexing almost in mockery at lifting a mere 140 lbs.
I weakly reached for my phone that was on the glass table in front of the couch, but he snatched it out of my grasp and sat down heavily on my back. He waved the phone in front of my face as I helplessly stared. Then, with one swift motion, he crushed my brand new iPhone in the palm of his hand as if it were made of paper.
I felt his big dick rub between my asscheeks teasingly as his strong hands held my arms pinned to my back. "No, no, no sir! Please!! Mercy!" I cried out as I weakly tried to squirm against his iron-like grasp.
He suddenly stopped and whispered in my ear, "But this is what you wanted, boy."
Without another word, he got up and put his dirty clothes back on. He didn't bother putting his socks back on as he put his muddy boots on, and he tied one around my eyes and the other around my mouth, so I couldn't see nor speak as he left.
"I'm just gonna take this debit card and $1000 in cash, then help myself to some new toys. No, not like dildos you homo," he laughed as I helplessly laid on the ground where he had left me. "Oh, and you will be hearing from me tomorrow, because I got quite a kick from this. If you dare try to cut off my spending, I will eradicate any hint of masculinity or confidence you have, in the most demeaning way possible. And if you are a good boy, I'll do it anyway, just maybe less painfully." With that, I heard his boots walk across the room, the door open then close, and his old truck roar to life and drive off.
Without missing a beat, I laid on the ground where he had left me, taking in the scent and taste of his filthy, sweaty socks and I blew my load in less than a minute. I panted in exhaustion and bodyache as the cum erupted all over my stomach and chest, and got on the website where I had met Jamie. I posted a review of him which simply said, "Thank God for straight boys."