Your donations make Nifty Archives possible. Keep this site running with your support: www.donate.nifty.org
KNOCKED OFF HIS PERCH - Part 4
Greg stumbled around dazed and confused. Three days ago, he was on top of the world with a gorgeous girlfriend, beautiful condo, designer clothes, money in the bank, a flashy car, and a sheltered and comfortable life. Overnight, it was all gone, and he was still trying to comprehend what happened. He replayed the events in his brain of his jail house experience and shuddered as he relived the brutal rape and physical abuse. He had no idea that those type of things happened to people and wondered how the county could permit it. It was almost as if they encouraged it. He asked a couple of strangers if he could borrow their phone so that he could call someone. Every one of them turned their nose up and ignored him and/or ran away. Afterall, Greg looked scary and pathetic, not to mention dirty and smelly. There was no way that anyone would believe that he was a successful and wealthy young executive.
Greg had never been truly hungry, ever in his life before. Now he was starving. His only solution was to beg. He found a cup and sat down on the ground with his back against a building. He couldn't look anybody in the eye. He kept his head down, too ashamed, and too embarrassed. After a couple of hours, he had amassed a fortune of about $10.00. Just as he was about to stand to go and get something to eat, he was facing the legs of a US Marine. The Marine reached in his wallet and pulled out all the money he had in his pocket. He put $15.00 in Greg's cup.
A commotion ensued when two street thugs came up from behind and grabbed the marine from the back. They held the blade of a sharp, steel knife against his throat. The other one had a Glock G19 pointed at him. The thug with the gun reached down and grabbed the cup. They pulled out the marine's wallet and found that it was empty. They checked his pockets and found nothing of value. Greg wanted to help, but he couldn't. In a previous life he would have been all over it. Now he was weak and helpless, unable to defend himself or help the marine. So, he just sat there, motionless.
One thug looked at the other one and a mischievous smile came over his face. He called out, "Hey bum." Greg didn't realize that he was talking to him. When the thug repeated the call, Greg looked up at him. These two thugs could not resist the temptation to fuck with a US Marine. The thug told Greg that he could use the Marine's combat boots and deserved them. Greg tried to deflate the situation and told the thugs that he didn't want or need them.
The one with the gun pointed it at Greg and yelled at him to take the boots. Greg reached over, methodically unlaced the marine's left boot and pulled on it. He lifted the marine's foot higher and pulled harder. He pulled as hard as he could, and the boot still wouldn't budge. The knife was shoved against the marine's neck and the thug ordered him to let go. The marine uncurled his toes, and with a loud pop, Greg was able to pull the boot off. The heat and the smell from inside the boot immediately hit Greg in the face. Greg struggled with the other boot and with the same loud pop, was able to get it off. The thugs told Greg to take the socks to go with the boots and Greg pulled the warm and sweaty socks off the marine's feet.
The thugs laughed at the marine standing in his bare feet. One told him that he didn't look like he was combat ready. The other one asked him who was a faggot now. They continued to humiliate the marine and Greg was very uncomfortable. The thug with the gun ordered the marine to take off his shirt. The marine looked him straight in the eye, held his head high and unbuttoned it. The thug ordered him to give it to Greg, and the marine dropped it in his lap. The marine was standing at attention with his dog tags hanging over his tee shirt. They told the marine that Greg really needed a pair of pants and it was nice of the marine to offer his. They ordered him to get them off. The marine pulled them off and dropped them in Greg's lap.
The thugs told Greg to take his shit and get out of there. Greg reluctantly picked up the boots and clothes and headed out. As much as he could use the clothes, he did not want them this way. As Greg stood up, the marine made his move and wrestled the gun from the thug. The other thug dropped the knife and ran. Both thugs disappeared around the corner and Greg handed the handsome marine his clothes who quickly dressed and left the scene. Once again, Greg was cold, lonely, and broke. The thugs had managed to keep the money they had stolen. Greg looked for another cup in the trash can and started all over again.
A crisp white, late model Ford 150 pickup truck pulled up to the curb and the passenger window lowered. Greg heard someone calling to him and approached. The driver inside asked Greg if he needed help. Greg's brain was processing the question when the driver was getting irritated and yelled to him, "Come on faggot, let's go." Greg quickly replied that he was not gay or interested in having sex with him. The driver just laughed at him and asked him why he assumed that he wanted to have sex with him. He said that he had a hundred dollars in his pocket for a day's work on his farm. He was trying to be a good Samaritan. Greg was hesitant and the driver said, "Two hundred dollars for two days, final offer, get in the fucking truck now." Greg thought about his current situation and how he could really use the money, so he agreed to go. He opened the door to get in, and the driver yelled out, "You're not getting in this truck with those stinking clothes. If you're going with me, you're gonna take em off. I've got some clothes and boots back at the ranch that will fit you." Greg looked at the young, fresh-faced man, who looked harmless, he thought about his current situation, and decided to strip. He pulled his shirt over his head and off. Since the shirt was two sizes too small, it was a relief to get it off. The driver pointed to his pants, and he pulled them down and off quickly. He slid the socks off his feet, picked up the plastic slippers and hopped into the truck. Once inside the truck, realization hit him that he had just stripped off his clothes on a busy city street corner, something he would never even had considered in his previous life.
Greg was face to face with a real live cowboy. Tall and lanky, he was wearing straight leg jeans, plaid shirt, big buckled belt, and brown suede boots. Greg was skeptical of the cowboy's intentions and thought that it must be his mind playing games. He was unusually tense since he was sitting in this stranger's truck and was butt naked. Small talk, a couple of jokes, and the driver's attractiveness soon put Greg at ease. He should not have let his guard down, because as soon as he sat back and relaxed, the driver grabbed his shirt and pants and in one swift action, lowered the window and threw the clothes out, as they were headed down the highway. Greg panicked and screamed out, "What the hell are you doing?" The cowboy yelled back at him and told him to shut the fuck up. As Greg looked out the rear window, he saw his only clothes flying behind the truck. He was at the mercy of the cowboy. The cowboy put his hand around Greg's neck and pulled him to his lap where he forced him to pull out his cock and start slurping. The cowboy's demeanor turned nasty and violent as he had total control over the naked and vulnerable Greg. When Greg paused to take a breath, the cowboy smashed his head into the dashboard. When Greg complained about the treatment, the cowboy spit in his face and called him a fag and a whore.
Greg was finally able to get the cowboy hard about the same time as he turned the truck into an alley. He opened the door and pulled Greg around the back. He stopped to grab two beers out of the back and told Greg it was party time. He drug naked Greg halfway down the alley. Greg seldom had walked around barefoot, so his tender feet were getting torn up. The cowboy laughed at Greg as he cringed with pain and finally shoved him to the ground where he cowered behind a dumpster. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg noticed that the cowboy dropped something into one of the beers. He handed the beer to Greg and told him to drink up.
The cowboy took a good look at Greg's battered and bruised body and got excited. He examined the hickeys on his neck. He told him that he knew that Greg was a whore when he first saw him. He said that he knew how to tame a wild stallion like him and threw the first sucker punch which Greg was able to block. He stumbled backwards and Greg used the opportunity to switch the beers which were sitting on the side of the dumpster. He picked up the non-laced beer and drank a sip which led the cowboy to pick up the other beer and take a chug. Greg was careful not to drink too much beer, he kept discreetly pouring it out at every opportunity. Finally, the cowboy told him that it was time to pony up and shoved him against the brick wall. He was going to show Greg what it was like to get fucked by a real man. He shot a couple of wads of spit into the palm of his hand and stroked his dick. He shoved Greg's head forward as he aimed the throbbing tool towards Greg's ass and violently rammed it inside. The shock and pain ran the length of Greg's body from his head to his toes. He was screaming when Cowboy slapped his face and punched his head and told him to stop crying and take it like a man. Blood drizzled from Greg's split lip, his head was racked with pain and his ass was on fire. Cowboy showed no passion or mercy as violently rammed his rock-hard cock back and forth inside Greg.
The cowboy's mean and vicious behavior slowed down and finally stopped. Greg quietly waited as the roofies kicked in and the cowboy slumped to his knees and finally passed out in the alley. He was knocked out from the effects of the drug which were meant for Greg.
Greg looked down at the cowboy who was now sprawled out behind the dumpster with his pants around his ankles. It didn't take long for him to come up with a plan. He raised the cowboy's left leg and easily pulled the boot off. He slipped the sock off too. He repeated the process on his right leg and this time a 6-inch switch blade fell out of the boot. He was easily able to pull the cowboy's pants and underwear off since they were already down to his ankles. He pulled his jacket off his back, rolled him over to unbutton his shirt and pulled it off.
Greg wasted no time in getting dressed. It finally felt good to have some clothes that fit. The boots were very comforting on his feet which had been cut and bruised from the rocks and debris in the alley. He felt a bulge in the jacket and pulled out a small revolver. He pulled the wallet out of his back pants pocket and opened it. Inside was only $22 dollars, not the $200 that had been promised. Turns out this all American, good looking cowboy was one nasty son of a bitch. Greg searched the front pants pocket and fished out the keys to the truck. Before Greg turned to head out of the alley, he turned back to the cowboy was still passed out, spread eagle and butt naked. Greg used his now booted foot to give the hardest blow he could muster, squarely on the cowboy's ball sack. That was going to hurt for quite a while. He noticed the cheap watch on the cowboy's wrist and bend down and removed it. He decided that if he was going to rob the cowboy, he was going to take it all. Greg turned and ran back up the alley to the waiting truck. He jumped in and quickly drove away. After abusing many young men, the cowboy had finally met his match.