Life with Joey

Life With Joey: High School Reunion

GAY MALE; 'LIFE WITH JOEY: High School Reunion #1' {Bud_83@hotmail.com}
( MM group*, verbal abuse, violent/sm ) [ 1 ! ? ]

Date: 7/21/2001

STANDARD WARNING: This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is purely coincidencidental. Do not read this story if you are offended by man-to-man sex, abusive/offensive language (including the “f” words—yes, that one and the one that also means cigarette). Do not read if you are underage or it is prohibited according to the laws governing the geographical location wherein you dwell. There is sex between males, it sometimes gets rough and there is violence. I have also attempted to capture a colloquial form of English in the dialog. These factors will not always be present, and I will warn you when such things do exist. Enjoy!

Copyright 2001 by Chet English. Permission is granted to Nifty Archives to post one copy. No part may be copied, reproduced, republished, or reposted on another website without written permission from the author.

LIFE WITH JOEY

HIGH SCHOOL REUNION

Hi, I’m Joey. I won’t use last names. It had been ten years since high school graduation and I was a little nervous about going home after so long being away. I hadn’t seen anyone from home except for Bob in most of that time. Being 27, I can’t say I haven’t experienced the world either. I need to preface this story a little before we get too far. I am a mass of contradictions: W.A.S.P., a Conservative Gay Republican who is pro-military, anti-abortion, pro-Christianity, anti-P.C., and the list goes on. I don’t like to make waves, I am a live-and-let-live type of guy.

I guess I should tell you that I wasn’t popular, good at sports, super-smart, or good-looking. I generally make aquaintences, not friends. My political views aren’t the only things that set me apart. I was voted Most Likely to Join a Cult by my classmates because of my strait-laced, squeaky-clean “boy-next-door-who-didn’t” reputation (They thought they were being ironic.) My other, more well-known, reputation was gained when I was in the sixth grade during the county shuffle which brings together four elementary schools and blends them into one large middle school, I had earned that most feared of all labels—Fag! Finch, Ray, Todd, and Dave decided to make me the butt of their fears and insecurities. Of course, it didn’t help that I was very interested in both boys and girls at the time. But, mostly boys. Obviously, it isn’t a great time being a teenager, searching for an identity, and surreptitiously being labeled an outcast before you have it all sorted out for yourself.

You see, I hated group sports, especially the three biggies: football, basketball, and baseball. For my non-conformity, for my not bowing before these icons of American society, I was an outcast. I made unpopular choices. Added to this the fact that I was the first guy in the class to reach puberty. Whereas one would think that this would afford some sort of status in and of itself, one would be sadly mistaken. It was awful being the first guy whose voice changed. The first guy to need deodorant, etc. I was often excluded, the last chosen for a team in gym, talked about behind my back, ridiculed, and generally made unwelcome. Thanks to the scholastic tracking system, all of my less-able friends were no longer in any of my classes. Suddenly all of my elementary friends were just faces in the hall. I was alone. I did manage to make some advances socially by being the football manager in the fall of eighth grade, running track and field in the spring, being a pep-club officer, pep-band, choir, newspaper, bowling (What was I thinking?) and joining nearly every other club that was offered. I was still slim then, and was starting to gain more of a manly stature. Then came summer vacation and the leap to high school. At thirteen, I could pass for a sixteen year old. This was cool until it came to owning up to my true age. I’d make some older friends who thought I was their age. Then, as always, it came down to “When do you get your driver’s license?” I made the inevitable awkward jump most auspiciously by making the hit list of several sadistic seniors who thought it was funny to flush a guy’s head down a toilet.

As I said, I was a social outcast. I was invited to exactly one party my freshman year, and never received another. I had zero interpersonal skills. After that year I went into a depression. I gained weight, reaching up to 215 pounds on my five foot ten inch frame. It didn’t improve matters that I didn’t develop much of a personality until I left for college. And, I didn’t discover (not the best word, perhaps "have the opportunity for" would be better) anything about my sexuality until later (which is a different story.)

I really enjoyed college life, I came out of my shell (No, not that kind of coming out! I didn’t admit that I was gay to myself, how could I tell anyone else?) and started working out with guys from the dorm. I managed to work myself down to 175 pounds and felt pretty good about myself. By that time, I was in-between my sophomore and junior years at a major mid-western university. It was summer and I needed a good paying summer job. I was staying with a friend in a large city and furiously looking for anything that paid well. I ended up waiting tables and bar-backing at a bar which featured exotic dancers . . . male dancers. Well, I heard from the dancers about how much they were making and knew that if I could get up the nerve, I could bring home a nice hunk of change (Yeah, any hunk would be nice, but that isn’t the story either.) So, like many other struggling college students, I bit the bullet and auditioned for a job as a dancer. I made pretty good money by the time summer ended. I finished with my degree work, received a B.A. in English, (which everybody but me knew was worthless) and moved to sunny California. Didn’t do well in the job market there, and so I fell back on dancing.

I knew this was not the life I wanted, burning myself out at night and not thinking about a future, much less building one. So, I packed up, told my roomies adios, and went back to school. I had managed to pay off my first set of student loans early with the money I had made, and could afford to pay for a little of my return to university.

I went back to my alma mater and enjoyed the life academia. Again, in the summers, I danced. It was at one of the shows that I was re-aquatinted with a girl with whom I had gone to high school.

Maryanne bought me a drink and turned out to be a good tipper. We reminisced for a while until I had to get back to work. She left before I had finished the next set, and I didn’t see or hear from her until a month before our tenth high school reunion. I had missed the five year reunion when I was in California. It had supposedly been a real melodrama, as most of my class get-togethers were. Finch (Remember him from above?) had turned into a coke-head and one of our classmates was now a gung-ho police officer in town. He made a big deal out of Finch’s obvious disregard for the law. Many female classmates were crying and whatnot, so Officer Classmate ended up giving in to peer pressure and not arresting one of his former buddies from school. (Gee, I’ll bet that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like it did me.) Anyway, sorry for the digression. Maryanne called and asked me if I would like to strip as a “prize” for one of the gimmicks they pull at these things. I would come out masked, dance, and whoever could guess which of their 212 classmates I was, they would win one hundred dollars. I said that I’d have to think about it, and would call her.

I let a week go by, thinking about how I felt about the idea, and finally decided what the hell, I hadn’t seen but two of these people in ten years, what would it hurt? I called her back and agreed to dance. I then went about setting things up so that no one would be able to guess who I am; if they didn’t, I got the hundred bucks on top of a smal remuneration of $250, so I stood to make $350 for attending my tenth high school reunion. I cut my hair short and spiky (Something I vowed I would never do after I rebelled against my father at thirteen—no more military haircuts for me!), dyed it a lighter shade of blond, and bought green contact lenses (My eyes are naturally pale blue, but can change shade depending on what I am wearing.) My classmates weren’t all that observant of me when I was with them every day for seven or more years, so how the hell were they going to recognize me as a trim blond with green eyes?

On the appointed day, I arrived at the old county 4-H hall two hours in advance, and got dressed up. The contest was announced and I came out. I was dressed like Zorro—long cape, wide Spanish hat, black mask, tight pants and boots, blousey white shirt, red belt sash. I worked the room, people guessing wrongly who I was; I wasn’t speaking much. Guys where really protective of their women, often doing the old shoulder-wrap-around-trap to show their possessive connection. I was inwardly amused, but didn’t let on about anything. With a little over an hour before they were supposed to close the hall, Maryanne came over to my table and told me to go get ready, she was going to introduce my act and end the contest.

As I went over by the dance floor area, Maryanne gave my tape to the D. J. He queued it up as she began pumping everybody up. I was sweating bullets waiting for the music to start. I was mentally kicking myself for this; I couldn’t believe I was still trying to prove myself to these people. The music kicked in. I had chosen to dance to "Love Is A Stranger" by The Eurythmics. As the euphony began, I went into mechanical mode. I let my body take over and shut my mind off. It wasn’t like any crowd I had stripped in front of before—either all male (preferably) or all female, never mixed. This was one of my best sets, and I knew it was a crowd-pleaser. I was smooth and looked calm and was glad I had made sure that no one was allowed to take pictures or videotape this show. I gyrated and played the crowd pretty well. I let the ladies pull at parts of the uniform, danced with some of them, and refused to take any money until it was time to remove my mask. Maryanne came forward and had the tabulations of the “raffle” to report. She read off some of the names people had put down to help hype it up and got some good laughs. “Sam S. had 43 votes (he was the class super-stud . . . Student Body Pres., top ten graduate, quarterback, etc.), Doug G. . . . 32 votes, Mike L. . . . 21 votes, Darren P. . . . 17 votes. Of the 138 class members who showed up and made a guess, none had guessed my identity. Maryanne came over to me and, again playing the crowd, teased as she first tucked the crisp one hundred dollar bill into my black posing strap, then she untied and removed my mask.

You could have heard a pin drop when she held my mask above her head and said, “That’s right, everyone, our mild-mannered Joey has turned out to be a wild man!”

There was a lot of hoopla after that, I took a bow, then got my stuff together to go and change. I wanted to towel down after getting all worked up. I was on my way, when a lot of people stopped me to talk. It’s very funny to think that back in school most of these people wouldn’t have spit on me if I were on fire (Oops, sorry, bad analogy.) Well, it isn’t very comforting to be standing in a room full of clothed people while you are just wearing a posing strap, so I put my pants back on. Now, I didn’t feel like I was reliving one of the many anxiety dreams of my youth. I put up with the inane chatting; I smiled my way through the next forty-five minutes and finally worked my way to the rest room. Most people had cleared out, others were hanging about still trying to recapture being seventeen. I was patted on the shoulders by some old acquaintances as they headed out, one mentioned “what a trip it was” that I was a “stripper” and that he bet I “got all the nookie" I "could ever want.” I smiled and let him keep on believing what he wanted as he went home with his wife to his two point five kids, mortgaged house, and the thought that he had to be at work early on Monday. Yeah, I can be a bit of a judgmental prick when I want to be, but so what. I was washing in the sink as best as I could when the lights went out.

“Shit,” I thought, “none of these morons told them I was in here.”

I wasn’t so worried, I knew that the doors were panic bars that would let me get out, so I continued to wash and waited as my eyes adjusted to the gloom lit only by the fire-exit light and the street lights coming through the textured glass. As I washed the sweat from my short blond hair, I wasn’t prepared for being grabbed from behind. Startled, I jerked my head up and hit it on the metal shelf above the faucet. As the rough hands pulled me backwards, I was told not to “make a sound, pretty-boy.”

As I was roughly being pulled toward the stalls, I made out that there were three of them. One guy on either side of me, holding my arms, the third had one hand over my mouth and the other tightly yanking at my short hair. As we got up to the stalls, I heard the sounds of drunken debate, then the noise of shoe laces being pulled out of shoes which were then noisily dropped to the floor. My arms were held up above my head and my wrists were tied to the crossbar supports. My legs were also forced apart and tied at the bottom columns. My captors wrapped one of their sweaty undershirts around my head, covering my eyes and partially my nose. As I breathed in, I was treated to the smells of the alcohol on their breath and the alcohol-sweat in the undershirt.

I felt drunken hands ripping my uniform pants from my body and I started to shout.

“Cut it out, Fairy! Yer gonna get it worse if ya don’ shut yer faggot mouth!” one of the men hissed and then punched me in the gut. I gagged and choked for air. I figured struggling against my bonds was hopeless, I would have to try to talk these guys out of whatever they had planned for me.

“Look,” I started, “I haven’t seen . . . .” I was quickly cut off by the force of another blow to my stomach.

“I tol’ ya ta keep yer mouth shut! Any more outta ya and I’ll cut yer balls off!”

I shut my mouth right then and there. I was not about to lose my nuts to some drunken, hillbilly gay bashers. Better just to take their beating. I thought my heart was going to explode. Then I heard, “Get the lights, Ray, ever’body’s gone by now and we won’ be disturb’d.” My worries quickly shifted from being beaten senseless to something more sinister.

I could tell the lights were on, but that was the only impression I could get with my head wrapped as it was. I could hear the three of them standing nearby, breathing heavily from our exertions.

“Look-it this fairy! He ain’t got no hair on ‘is legs!” I thought I recognized Todd’s voice.

Todd was hot when we were in school. I remember him and the others from my days in gym class and before and after football and track practices when we were in eighth grade. He had honey-blond hair, a smooth, muscular chest, blue eyes focused behind wire-rimmed glasses, a jock’s bubble butt, and a tan that seemed to last all year long. But that isn’t what I remembered the most. No, I remember the slab of beef swinging between his legs. It was large (and I had only seen it soft) and uncut. Todd’s was the first uncircumcised dick I had ever seen, and that image stuck with me. What also stuck with me was the knowledge of his inbred homophobia. The others were always joking that Todd had been holding hands in the huddle. I gathered from the lockeroom talk that Todd’s dad hated gays, too, and wouldn’t like to hear any of this talk. Anyway, as much as I liked what I saw, I hated him for being one of the guys I had been friends with in elementary who then decided to run me across the coals of social ostracizing. Still, he filled the void when I was seeking a jack-off object sometimes. (I never said I wasn’t messed up by any of this. Besides, haven’t you ever ordered something from the menu by its picture and then when it arrived found out it was unpalatable? Well, this is sort of the same thing.)

“Yeah! Hey, didn’ he use’ ta have a hairy ches’ too?” I couldn’t place this voice, but I was curious as to why he might remember that I had started to get chest hair in tenth grade. (The glorious end of required P.E. classes! Loved the lockeroom and showers, hated nearly every “team” sport otherwise.)

“Shit! This faggot shaves ‘is body!” I felt my gut clench as I finally recognized the voice of Finch. He had been the bastard who hit me in the gut.

I had always had a love-hate relationship going on in my head over Finch. He had been the guy to first start calling me a fag. But, he also was a humpy, short redhead (I always fall for redheads, they’re my fatal weakness.) He was well defined at fourteen, and I will never forget when I caught him stealing a jock from the equipment room so he could play football. I remember how he walked around in what he thought was an empty lockeroom in just his shoulder pads and jersey (an image that still gets me hot today.) I got a great shot of his ass as he went into the room and a better shot of his limp cock surrounded by dark red hair as he went back to his locker. That’s when I called him on his stealing.

He gave me a sob story about how the coach would kill him if he didn’t wear a jock to practice, and how he had to hurry because he was late for practice anyway. I just took the whole sight in . . . him not moving to cover up his cock, me leaning against the opposite row of lockers and staring. (Hell, I figured that since he was the one who started calling me a faggot, I could at least get a free show out of it.) I watched as he slowly scratched his crotch and then opened the box. He looked me in the eye the entire time as he bent over to put on the jock. I smiled and said I wouldn’t tell on him. (Well, what would you have done? I told you he was sexy as hell, and a redhead to boot.) After practice that same day, he again tormented me by calling me a faggot and throwing his damp towel at me after he had finished showering. He, too, was the fantasy subject of several teen jerk-offs of mine, especially after what I had seen that day. (Yeah, I had a lot of issues to get over.)

Anyway, back to the story. Suddenly, I heard the door to the john swing open. I thought to myself, “Now you fuckers are going to get it!” I shouted, “Hey, Help me! I’m being assaulted!”

“Heh, heh hee! The fuckin’ faggot thinks Ray’s sum’body come ta save ‘im!” Todd laughed.

“Fuck, there are at least four of them.” I thought to myself. I moaned as I was punched in the stomach four more times.

“Faggot! You don’ lissen too good do ya?” Finch pulled my head back by my hair. “I tol’ ya you’d regret it if ya didn’ shut yer fuck’n’ trap.”

“Hey, Finch! Look at them funny panties he’s wearin’!” the unidentified voice said.

“Man, this faggot likes ta wear girlie-panties!” said Todd, barely hiding the excitement in his voice.

I felt a hand roughly grab my crotch and begin to grab at my pouch. I could tell he wasn’t trying to get me off, at least that’s how it seemed. He was only trying to remove the posing strap, but in his drunken state, he was seeming to have a little trouble.

Finch mumbled under his breath, “Fuckin’ snaps won’ open.” This, of course, is because it didn’t have snaps, but Finch never was a sharp one. I couldn’t believe his persistence, as his hands kept pulling and jerking at the strap.

“Look-it this!” Finch crowed, “The faggot’s gettin’ a fuckin’ hard on!”

Humiliatingly true, I was getting aroused by his hand. Still, I’m not stupid, just horny. When I tried to pull away, one of my hands broke the shoestring away from the crossbar. I swung out blindly and connected with someone’s head, Finch shouted, “Get ‘is arm! Dammit! Ray! You get behin’ ‘im and hol’ ‘im for me!”

“A’righ’, man!” Ray brushed my side as he ducked between my struggling body and the sides of the stall. He grabbed my arm and held it behind my back, pinned between our bodies. The string that had been holding my arm was still tied at my wrist.

“Keep hol’n ‘im, Ray! I don’ wan’ this fucker gettin’ loose ‘fore we’re through!” Finch barked.

Ray moved up and held me tighter, inadvertently holding me against his bare chest. I realized then that it must be his shirt that was being used as my blindfold. I felt and smelled his hot, alcohol-breath against my cheek as he tried to get a better look at what Finch was doing to me. His head was right next to mine, pinning it between my secured arm. I could feel the rough stubble of his cheek against mine, his jaw was hard and the feeling would have been very erotic had we been in different circumstances.

With the heat of Ray’s body behind me and Finch running his hands over my cock, it wasn’t long before I was not only completely hard, but I was starting to leak pre-cum. (Yeah, I know that you think I’m some kind of masochistic freak, but that isn’t the case at all. I was scared and sore from the punches, but the entire time I was being roughly handled, there was an incredible undercurrent of pent-up sexual tension on the parts of my captors.)

The verbal harassment had all but died down, so I thought I could make an impassioned plea for my release. I started to say something when I was jerked forward by my posing strap being ripped from my body. I managed to say, “Why don’t . . . .” before my mouth was stuffed full of my soggy pouch. My leaky boner pronged and throbbed and jerked to the rhythm of my rapidly beating heart.

“Look-it how ‘is cock’s jerkin’ aroun’, man!” the voice I couldn’t place sounded. He was worked up, I could make out the heavy breathing of my four captors. Ray was definitely turned on by my raging dick. As he pressed into me even more, my hand brushed against a hard lump in his crotch. I had never seen Ray naked in school, but I had heard rumors that he was hung. When I came into contact with his hard cock, my fingers became more insistent, Ray let out a quavering breath into my neck, stifling his moan.

Finch, thinking the moan came from me, said, “Faggot’s really lik’n’ this, boys!”

I’m not sure what was going on in my mind at this point. All of the years of verbal abuse by these guys mixed with the erotic fantasies I had had about them as a confused teenager began to muddle my feelings. I didn’t want to be responding to them in this way, but it was like I was fulfilling a dark destiny set in motion when we were fourteen; and only now, thirteen years later, were we enacting its fruition.

I was far from being okay with this; but the odd mixture of conflicting emotions which had been bottled up for so long were working against me. I had never dealt with the torment I had gone through—the mental anguish at being separate and rejected—at these guys’ hands, nor had I overcome the unresolved adolescent fantasies and unfulfilled desires which fueled my daily maturbatory workouts about these guys back then. I was unprepared for the backlash of all of this baggage taking its toll. It was like I had taken a trip in a time machine and ended up back in the awkward teenage years where I couldn’t separate my emotions—desire and hatred worked together then to create hot dreams about conquest and submission after school in the lockeroom, or behind the curtain on the stage in the gym. I was their captive sex-toy and would do everything they told me to do.

Despite what was going on here was being forced upon me, my mind lost touch with adult reasoning and retreated to that dark portion of my mind which was me when I had no real sense of self, back when I had no concept of self-worth, back when I had thought that the only way I would find companionship was as a victim of sexual abuse. With all of this convolution raging in my head, I was beginning to think differently about Finch. I was beginning to think of him as I had when we were kids. I was altering the facts of the situation in order to cope with this inner turmoil. Suddenly I found myself thinking that although Finch seemed intent on my pain, there was an element of butch homosexuality underlying the whole scene, and especially his actions.

I was attempting to cope with this by retreating into one of my adolescent fantasies. I winced as a hand roughly gripped my hair and pulled my face to the right, more toward Ray’s own face. I stopped working my fingers over Ray’s hard-on and focused on the threat of Finch’s proximity. I couldn’t see, but I could feel the heat of three sets of breath mingling—mine, Ray’s and Finch’s. I knew his face was mere inches from my own. He pulled my now sodden posing strap from my mouth. I imagined he had a wicked grin on his face as he spat out, “So, Faggot, what the fuck sh’u’d we do wit’ ya?”

My mind raced, what should I say? Before I knew what I was saying, the words burst from me, “I’ll do anything you want . . . suck your dicks, whatever! I’ll make you feel really good, just let me go, man!” I was pleading.

“D’ja hear that? The queer wants to suck our dicks!” Todd sort of giggled. I wasn’t sure if it was out of nervousness or excitement.

I could still feel Finch’s closeness and imagined the smirk on his face as he jerked my hair some more and taunted, “So, Queer, ya wanna suck ‘r cocks do ya?”

I stood motionless, saying nothing.

“WELL, DO YA, FAGGOT? . . . HUH, . . . DO YA?” Finch punctuated each word with forceful jerks of my head. But, before I could answer, he inched in even closer to my face, putting his lips next to my ear and nearly whispered through the T-shirt, “Do ya wanna wrap yer fag lips ‘roun’ my hot cock? Huh, Faggot? I bet ya been want’n’ ta do that ever since ya first saw it at football practice! Huh, Queer-fuck? I remember how ya looked at me. Yeah, Faggot, yeah. Yer gonna be suck’n’ a whole lotta cock t’night!” I sensed him pull his face from mine. He shoved the strap back into my mouth.

There was an ominous tension electrifying the room that nearly exploded when Finch finally said, “All’a ya geddover here! We’re gonna fuck this fag up!” Bare feet made a sticky sound as they pulled from the tacky tiled floor and retreated from me. I didn’t know what to expect next. I couldn’t see Finch or the others to tell if I should get ready for a baseball bat to the head or what. I tensed my body when I heard Ray exhale a slight laugh. He gripped my wrist tighter and pulled it back over his still-hard prick until I resumed playing with it. His tongue darted briefly out and licked my throat.

“Look a’ tha’!” the mystery guy blurted, “Th’ fag’s cock’s still hard, man! Even after Finch’s been fuck’n’ slapp’n’ ‘im aroun’!”

I could hear the smuggness in Finch’s voice as he said, “Fuck’n’ faggot-queer-boy mus’ like th’ rough stuff! Todd, geddover there ‘n’ start workin’ ‘is tits! Pinch ‘em real hard! Bite ‘em if ya have ta! I wan’ this bitch beggin’ for it ‘fore we’re through!” Finch ordered.

Todd moved in and immediately began a terrorist’s assault on my sensitive nipples. At first, he gripped each nipple between his thumbs and forefingers and pinched and pulled on them mercilessly. I strained my ears for any clue as to what was coming next. Suddenly I heard a zipper being pulled down, followed by a belt buckle jingling then tone as it hit the floor. There was the unmistakable sound of a pair of pants being shuffled off onto the floor. I was a bit relieved that they hadn’t thought to use the belt on me. The torture continued as I heard the sound of shoes dropping to the floor and a second pair of jeans being lowered and then pulled off of legs.

I let out a moan of pleasure as Todd increased his attention on my tits. Ray was biting my earlobe, tentatively, through the T-shirt as I continued to rub his bulging dick through his pants. I made it look like I was struggling so Ray wouldn’t be embarrassed. I somehow sensed that the others weren’t aware of what had been going on between us since he began holding me. I thought there might be a chance I could make an ally if I kept it up and didn’t blow his cover.

“What the hell ‘re ya doin’ over there, Dave? Stop pullin’ yer pud ‘n’ help work this bitch over! He’s ‘bout boilin’ now! Won’ be long ‘n’ he’ll be beggin’ fer us ta fuck ‘im up the ass I’ll bet!” Finch howled, inadvertently letting me know who my fourth captor was.

Well, it made sense. These guys had been together in team sports since middle school: football, wrestling, and track. (Yeah, I know there is only one of the cardinal three represented here, but fuck they were still jocks and that made it okay.)

Finch came back over and ripped the T-shirt from my head, I squinted in the brightness of the fluorescent lights. Like lightning, Finch slapped my right butt cheek, gripping it tightly in his fingers. I groaned in a stymied sexual heat, my gag muffling the pleasure I was beginning to feel. It was then Finch said, “He’s likin’ this too much! Todd, don’ be jus' pullin’ on those; I said bite his tits! Make ‘im cry! He’s enjoying what yer doin’.”

Todd looked as if he were going to object, but didn’t. He moved his mouth over my left nipple and bit the tip between his teeth at Finch’s insistence. I jolted strait up as if an electric volt coursed through my body. It felt like it shot its way out through my dick. I could hear my pre-cum splat as it hit the floor.

I heard one of the men spit (I figured it was Finch or Dave as the other two were busy), pulling it deeply from his throat. Then I felt a sloppy wetness hit the head of my dick as it was trapped in a palm full of saliva. As the fist squished and squeezed my cock-head, I groaned so loud that I startled Ray.

“What the fuck ‘re you guys doin’ up there?” Ray asked.

“You just keep th’ faggot pinned there, Ray, and we’ll tell ya what’s goin’ down.” Dave piped in.

“Dave, why don’t you som’thin’ other than fuck’n’ stan’ there jerkin’ off,” it was more a command than a question Finch issued.

“Like what? There ain’t nothin’ left fer me ta do,” Dave replied.

“What th’ fuck, man! You remember last wee . . . er . . . . Shit! Man, it ain’t surprisin’ you don’ get laid much. You got the imagination of dirt! Tickle his damn’ feet! That ought ta fuck with ‘im!” Finch returned.

I felt Dave struggling to get my left foot untied and off the ground when Finch noticed I was giving him a hard time. “Ray, Pull the bastard up off the ground so Dave can tickle his feet.” I noticed how the others did everything Finch commanded. It was scary how little they had progressed since high school. But, then again, who was I to talk? Here I had gotten myself into this situation because I hadn’t been able to get over my past either.

Ray put his arm around my waist, keeping one hand over my other arm so I wouldn’t stop frigging his cock. His hairy arm brushed my shaft below where Finch held my cock-head prisoner. As Ray lifted my weight onto his body, Dave pulled left my leg off the floor by the ankle and began to run his fingers lightly over the soul of my foot. I was stretched out awkwardly since Dave had my left leg off the floor. My right leg and left arm were still tied to the stall supports, and my right arm was pinned between my back and Ray’s body. It became even more awkward when I started to buck against the over-stimulation to several sensitive places on my body. Evidently Dave made me give the response Finch was fishing for, as my body did an agonizing slow curl and I stretched against my captors and bonds. Ray grunted both from my hand palming his dick and the added pressure of taking my weight onto himself. Finch ignored Ray and dropped my cock to begin rubbing his hard dick against my now available left thigh. His cock was so hot it burned my leg were it touched, leaving a slime trail of his pre-cum to drip and snake across my smooth, hairless thigh. I knew that this wouldn’t end before that fiery dick was up my ass; and I also knew that Finch was going to make me beg him to do it.

Hell broke loose when Dave said with astonishment, “Hey, Finch, man, the faggot’s workin’ Ray’s dick through his pants!”

Misinterpreting Dave’s motive for calling him out, Ray quickly countered, “Fuck you he is!”

Finch had Ray put me down, re-tie my arm to the crossbar and come out from behind me. I knew they would be able to see that his cock was hard. Hell! a blind man could have seen that prong! But it was the slick wet spot I had worked out of Ray that cinched it for them.

“You lettin’ this faggot grab yer shit, man?” Todd asked.

“Shaddup! I see y’all have hard-ons too, so don’ go gettin’ all worked up at me! Besides, what the fuck d’ya think we’re gonna do? Huh? Damn, Todd, Finch’s gonna fuck the shit outta Joey!” Ray countered. I wondered that Ray could so quickly grasp what was going on when he had been so slow on the up-take in classes at school.

Finch pulled the two men apart before the thought could take hold in Todd’s mind. He said, almost too quickly, “It’s alright, Todd, . . . only goes ta show that the fag’s ready for phase two. Get ready. You two won’t be needin’ any clothes either. You two get naked like Dave ‘n’ me, ‘n’ we’ll really start this party.”

Todd said, “I don’ wanna get nekked, I thought you said we wuz gonna fuck ‘im up!”

“We ARE gonna fuck ‘im up, Todd, . . . fuck ‘im up the ass!” Finch smiled wickedly at his bad pun.

“I dunno, man. I ain’t no fag, man,” Todd stammered, “I don’ wanna put my dick in ‘is ass!”

“Then hold ‘im down for the res’ of us,” Dave sneered, barely containing his excitement, “I wanna long-dick this fairy!”

Finch went over to Todd, I couldn’t make out all of the details of their conversation, but I guess Finch convinced Todd to get involved because the next thing I knew, Dave was marveling at how big Todd’s cock is and how cool it must be to have a hood on your cock.

I had long since given up on fighting this, and I knew that the others were all getting into the scene. Try as I might to deny it, I realized that I was also getting caught up in this scene. Sure, it had started off scary as hell and I was probablt going to be bruised from all of the punches I’d taken, but it has turned into something entirely different than what I had suspected. So why not have fun? I knew that Finch was definitely a league player if he could pull off getting the terribly homophobic Todd involved in this. Besides, after Finch’s little slip-up with Dave, I was pretty certain that the two of them were more into the gay scene than Todd or Ray knew. They had an air of experience about them and their language told me that this wasn’t the first time a scene like this had been played out for them.

A hard slap to my ass drew me back to reality as I was told I was being lowered from the stall; I was not to resist or they would “rip [my] fuck’n’ balls off and feed ‘em to th’ pigs!” Dave took the discarded T-shirt and blindfolded me again. My right foot was untied first, then my left arm was released. Because I only took a few steps, I assume I was pulled out into the open area of the rest room between the urinals and the stalls. I was pushed to the floor; my wrists were tied together which were, in turn, bound behind my head by my throat with a thick, leather belt. This left my armpits exposed and kept my hands out of the way. I was then spun around by one of them who had grabbed an ankle and ran in a circle. I was disoriented, but not nauseous. Then, I was straddled and felt a weight on my chest as one of them sat on me. The gag was pulled from my mouth and I was told to beg. I asked, “What am I supposed to beg for?” I received a sharp kick to my side for my poor judgment.

“You know what you want, beg us, and we’ll give it to ya, fairy-boy.” Dave seemed to be running this scene.

“I want you to let me go!” I said, knowing I was antagonizing them. I was hit so hard that my teeth rattled and my head bounced against the hard tile floor.

“Alright! . . . alright, I . . .I’ll . . . beg,” I managed to sputter, “I want you to . . . to fuck me. Please, fuck me.”

“See,” I could imagine the smirk on Finch’s face as I gave in, “I tol’ ya he would beg us ta fuck ‘im in the ass! But, this’s too easy, let’s hear some more begging, faggot!”

I figured that they wanted to humiliate me and humble me before the straight guys so it wouldn’t tip them off that Finch and Dave liked getting into bondage games with other guys. So, I began begging, being sure to keep an edge in my voice, and seeming to be a reluctant participant.

“I . . . want you to . . . f-fuck me . . . .”

“Tell us how much you want our dicks, gay-boy. Tell us ya wanna suck us dry ‘fore we fuck yer queer, dick-lovin’ ass!” Dave jeered.

“I . . . I want your dicks, I want . . . I want to suck your cocks dry before you . . . before . . . you fuck my ass,” I played along.

“Ya heard the fairy, he wan’s us ta fuck ‘im after he sucks our dicks! Man, what a cock-hungry lil’ bitch we got here!” Dave exclaimed.

“First, let’s have ‘im suck on Todd’s big, uncut dick for awhile. Come on, Stud, make this bitch chew on yer fat, slimy, fuck-stick.”

If they could have seen my face they would have seen me arch an eyebrow at Finch’s use of those words, especially the “Stud” part.

“Yeah! Make ‘im chew on that foreskin of yers!” Dave added, “Have ‘im tongue it good!”

Even Ray was caught up by all of this and he said, “Shit! If one of y’all don’t shove yers in soon, I’m go’n’ to!”

Finch coaxed, “See, Todd, ever’body knows ‘e’ll suck ya off! Stick yer dick in ‘is face ‘n’ see if he don’t suck it right on down ‘is throat! Come on! You know the faggot wants cock, let’s give it to ‘im!”

Todd gave a resigned sigh, as if getting your cock washed by a hot mouth and tongue were the worst thing in the world, and moved over to replace Dave on my chest. Someone must have pushed him up on my chest because he said, “Don’t push me, I’ll do it!” Then I felt the first drop of tasty pre-cum drip to my lips, quickly followed by another. I gingerly stuck out my tongue and licked at the air, hoping to find the slimy prick I knew was waiting out there in the dark. I moved my tongue around briefly to the snorts and smirks of my captors until I hit pay dirt, so to speak. My tongue made contact with the source of all of that sweet nectar.

I love the feel of a foreskin as my tongue first touches it, all soft and warm and slimy at the same time. The smell of Todd’s crotch was turning me on, I could, under the layer of sexual- perspiration, just make out the sent of his deodorant soap—Coast. I got really turned on by the manly scent, and I quickly attempted to capture his meat in my hungry mouth.

Ray sort of shouted, “Look-it Joey, man! He’s really tryin’ ta suck Todd’s dick! Oh, man! He’s fuckin’ takin’ it in ‘is mouth!”

Dave added, “He really wants ta suck it!”

“Yeah, the faggot really gets in ta cock don’t he?” Finch gloated. “Yeah, that’s right, suck ‘im, Faggot!”

Todd moaned as his dick sank deeper in my mouth. I could feel his hairy balls on my chin as I lifted my head to take more of what was at least eight inches of hard dick. Todd began thrusting his hips in a surprisingly slow, steady rhythm, the instinctual ancient dance. His inhibitions were dwindling quickly as the impulses made their way from his cock to his brain. His thrusting never increased, however, even as the others cheered him on with shouts of “Fuck his face, man!”, “Shove your fuckin’ cock in deep!”, “Try ‘n’ make him take your big hog all the way down!”, “Shoot your spunk in his mouth!”, “Yeah! Push your fat dick in faster, Todd!”

His thighs were getting really hot where they encased by my head. His breathing became ragged and he was pushing deeper into my throat as if he wanted me to swallow his pubic bush and balls as well. For sure he was liking what was happening to his cock. As his thighs rubbed against my head, Todd managed to push my blindfold up and off of my face. When I opened my eyes, I was treated to the view of Todd above me. His blond pubic bush was just above my eyes when he pulled out on the long strokes. I could see all the way up his ripped chest and abs to his pointed dark nipples. His head was back and his mouth was open and issuing gasps, sputters, and other sounds of sexual need being satiated.

My tongue rasped the underside of his fat cock. I curled it slightly to accommodate his shape. His cock had a wonderful bulge along the perpendicular arch which then melded with the greater girth of the shaft. I gagged, fighting for air, as his dick expanded and battered my mouth, closing off my throat. Todd’s moaning got louder and his pumping into my face got rougher but never quicker. He really knew how to ride out a blowjob. He began a low, guttural moan as he approached orgasm.

“Awwwwww, fuck! man, I’m gonna blast it down th’ fag’s mouth!” he managed to gasp as he hit the point of no return. “Here it comes! Uh! Ohhh, fuck yeah, suck me deep! Ohhh, fuckin’ dick lovin’ bitch! Yeah! . . . Ohhh . . . Uhhh . . . Uhhh . . . Uhhh . . . Uhhh . . . Uhhh . . . Uhhhhh!”

Todd’s cum shot hot and fast into my mouth and throat. What I caught of it on my tongue was thick and tasty. Most of his load went down my throat before I could trap it in my mouth. I was close to passing out from lack of air when he pulled his eight incher from my abused mouth. I had gulped down Todd’s cum and pulled in a long breath of air. He mumbled something like “Thanks, Joey,” and began to get up. Finch moved in behind Todd and grabbed him under his arms, Todd’s knees pushed the blindfold completely off, giving me a sort of pillow on which to rest my head.

“Alright, Ray, looks like you get your turn,” Finch motioned Ray to my chest as he helped a weak-kneed Todd get off of me.

Ray grinned down at me. then, he moved from straddling my chest to straddling my head. He was going to rest his balls on my nose and push in to me from above rather than ride me like Todd had. As he pushed his dick to my mouth, I licked my lips in anticipation. I watched in fascination he descended upon me. Ray had managed to keep his stocky but muscled frame from his wrestling days. I stared at the dark hair on his ass as he lowered himself. His thighs were also covered in thick, dark hair. I moved my attention to his bullet shaped prick. It is about five and a half inches long, but thick, like a beer can. The head was an angry purple, slick with Ray’s pre-cum.

He growled, “Open yer mouth and suck my cock, Joey!”

We moaned together as he began his assault on my face. I liked the way his hairy legs, ass, and balls scraped my face, neck and shoulders. He stayed like this for a few seconds, then proceeded to let gravity take its course. He sank down and plugged my mouth and throat with his monster cock. He stopped when his pubes where against my chin and his balls were resting on my closed eyelids. He pulled his dick all the way out and then plunged back into me about five more times. Suddenly, he got up and I was about to protest when he suddenly switched his position and sat down on my chest. His knees were digging into my armpits, creating a new, sensuous torment. He put his hands behind my head and pulled it up off the floor until my neck disappeared and his cock was embedded in my mouth once more. His hairy body was now massaging my chest, neck, and jawline. As he began pumping into my mouth, his rough knees began rubbing my armpits, causing me to try to pull away from the tickling. Dave noticed my attempts to get away from Ray’s assault and mistook my attempts for resistance. He grabbed my nuts and pulled me back. I gasped in pain and Ray pushed himself deeply into my throat and held me there. Dave let go of my balls and pulled on my dick, causing me to groan with pleasure. The vibrations on Ray’s fat cock made him tremble. When he realized what was the cause of this added sensation, he reached behind with his left hand and grabbed my pulsing dick while he, again, pulled my head up on his dick until my nose was crushed against his groin and pubic hair. He found the right place on my cock with his left thumb and hit my pleasure zone—the smooth skin directly below the knob on the outer arch of my cock.

“Gawdammit! Yer fuckin’ better than my ol’ lady!”

I immediately began groaning and choking for air at the same time. This sent Ray into outer space and he let loose with a huge load that shot so far back in my throat that I didn’t need to swallow. I was a bit disappointed that I didn’t get to sample any of his cum, because I had loved his thick pre-cum.

“AWWWW, FUCK, Joey! Suck me dry man, Uh-huh! Fuckin’ drink my spooge! Yer mouth is fuckin’ hot!” Ray quickly descended into grunts and moans of monosyllabic sounds of contentment and sexual satisfaction.

As his orgasmic tremors subsided, he let loose of my cock and head and then pulled out of my mouth with a pop. My jaws were aching as I instinctively drew in a deep gulp of air. I was starting to see stars from being deprived of oxygen.

Suddenly, Ray’s pressure on my chest eased as he rolled off of me and Finch said, “Yer turn, Dave. Plug his fucking mouth again. This fairy can’t seem to get enough cock!”

Dave snorted in agreement and quickly moved on to my chest to fill the hollow of my mouth with his seepy cock. However, instead of pushing into me like I had anticipated, he began smacking my face with his slimy, red dick. It is not very thick, nor is it very long; actually, it is rather average in most respects. The head of his cock, however, was huge and looked out of place on his short, thin shaft. Also, Dave’s dick had an odd bend to it, as if the head were too heavy for the shaft to support and drooped forward under the weight. I tried to get his cock into my mouth as he slapped me with it. Each time it hit, it made a sticky mess and a delicious sound, like rain falling heavily on the pavement.

Dave was the most abusive to me, and he seemed to know exactly where to position his hands, body, and dick to get the most out of his ride. He had one hand pulling on my balls, the other was massacring my left tit. He put his knees where Ray had been just before, having figured out what they were doing to me; and, he put most of his weight on his knees so he could keep my head back against the floor. Before he pushed his cock past my lips, he made me beg him to let me suck on his cock. “Come on! Beg, fag-boy! Ask me ta plug yer throat with my cock-head and coat yer tonsils with my hot cream!” he sneered down at me. I begged like a bitch in heat for his cock. I had managed to taste some of his pre-cum when he slapped my cheeks and it made me want him even more.

“Please let me suck your dick, Dave. Fuck my face and shoot your hot wad into my throat! I want to make you cum,” I pleaded. I couldn’t stop myself. I was actually pleading with Dave for his dick! I admit to loving cock and men, but I had never even dreamed about this sort of scene being played out. I was getting hotter and hotter as he made me beg for him to humiliate me. What the fuck was I doing?

“You fuckin’ worthless whore-fag! Don’t call me by my name! When ya talk to us, ya call us ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’! Ya got it?” he screamed at me.

I managed to sputter, “Yes, Sir!” as his open hand connected with my cock-juice slimed face.

Dave put his slimy palm to my mouth and ordered me to lick it clean. I managed a hearty “Yes, Sir!” again and began to lick his pre-cum from his palm.

This seemed to get him hot, because the next thing I know, Dave was shoving his scalding cock into my mouth.

He quickly found his rhythm and was rocking himself to an orgasm while he talked trash at me.

“I always knew ya were a cock-sucking-faggot . . . . Why didn’ ya tell us ya liked dick back ‘n school? We woulda given ya all the cock ya could handle and then some . . . . Boy, ya sure do know how to pull on a cock with yer tongue . . . . Yeah! fuck’n’ run yer tongue up and down on my shaft! Fuck’n’ fag! Oh, yer gonna get a lot of dick tonight, man! Yeah! gag on my woody. Make me fill yer filthy, dick-lov’n’, cum-suck’n’ mouth with my spunk! Damn! Keep that up slave-fag . . . feels great!”

Dave’s degradations continued to spew forth as he sawed his dick in and out of my mouth with a slow, measured pace. He was planning to make this last. My jaw was really sore from all of the dicks pounding my mouth, and the hits I had taken earlier. He looked down at me and I saw a wicked gleam in his eye as he pulled hard on my balls. It must have made me give the proper response, because he repeated it regularly and followed by pinching my tit between his fingernails. I looked at Dave’s lean body as he drew his cock from my mouth and told me to use my lips more and to create better suction. He had managed to keep his body in great shape since graduation. The ten years had made him harder; his muscles were defined and he didn’t show the ponch that usually begins to set in by thirty. He saw me checking him out and grinned down at me. He quickened his pace a little and continued to stare me in the eyes. He continued to verbally abuse me as well. Finch had come up to stand behind Dave. He put his hands on Dave’s shoulders and massaged them as he watched from above. Finch began to let his hands roam until he was working Dave’s tits. Dave moaned in appreciation and, for the second time, quickened his pace. He began to grow less verbal as he neared his climax. In the end, Dave and the others had become grunting, growling, sweaty animals enjoying their rutting.

Dave’s climax, however, surprised me when he pulled out of my mouth and began beating his cock over my face. I kept my mouth open and waiting for him to invade it again, but his hand flew up and down on his shaft. His knuckles grazed my lips and nose, and he told me to stick my tongue out. He rasped his fist over my tongue and began to shake as he reached the summit of ecstasy.

His cock exploded with a fury of knuckles and white-hot cum blowing all over the place. His first and second shots landed somewhere above my head, the third shot landed on my forehead, where my hairline began and trailed down my face and back to Dave’s piss slit. The next three shots landed in various spots on my face, none making it into my waiting mouth. The last couple of small, less powerful blasts did hit my lips and outstretched tongue and I managed to lick his sticky fingers as they passed over me. He wasted no time in pushing his spent cock back into my mouth and ordering me to clean it “real good” for him.

I managed a garbled “Wef, Fer!” (Yes, Sir!) around the gooey prick as he leaned forward on his knees. Finch let go of Dave’s tits and helped him to stand when Dave was satisfied with my clean-up job.

Finch just stood above me and sneered after Dave had been cleared out of the way. He rested his hands on his hips, his dripping sausage raging above me. He had a foot on either side of my lower ribs and was gently tickling my sides with his big toes as he stared down at me.

“Well, Queer, what should I do with you?” Finch’s words were crisp and clean, no trace of the alcohol slurring his speech. I just looked up at him, mutely awaiting his descent. He looked from me to the three other men, reclining against the wall—Todd and Ray pulling on their again-hard dicks; Dave breathing hard while he rested with his eyes closed and his head back against the wall.

Finch squatted over my mouth and had me lick and suck on his balls. I kept this up for about five minutes until he pulled away and stood back up. He repositioned himself so that he was on his knees and above my head. I thought he might sixty-nine me, but I learned he wasn’t interested in helping me get off, only in what my mouth and tongue could do for his body. Finch moved up until his balls rested below my chin and his butt was directly over my lips. He reached behind himself and spread his butt-cheeks. I could see his brown hole as he pressed down and said, “Rim my ass, Queer!”

I timidly reached my tongue up for his brownish-pink rosebud and connected. I pushed down my involuntary urge to puke. I had not done this before, and it really never interested me. However, I was in no position to argue (literally). So, I did as I was told and stuck out my slightly dry tongue. There was a slightly acidic, tangy taste mixed with the salt of his sweat. Finch only had to tell me once to keep my tongue wet. As my tongue began to explore his butt crack, I could hear both the pleasurable grunts and “uhms” from Finch’s mouth and the disgusted sounds coming from Ray and Todd.

“I can’t b’lieve he’s doin’ that! It’s fuckin’ sick, man!” Todd said.

“Yuck, he’s got 'is tongue on Finch’s ass!” Ray gasped, then added, “But Finch sure does seem ta like it a lot!”

“Hey, Finch, where the hell did you hear of that?” Todd asked.

“Ohh, I . . . Uhm, yeah . . . I, uh, saw it . . . OHHH! . . . in a porno-oh-oh . . . , this bitch was . . . uhhhh! . . . was doin’ this dude’s ass! It’s Fuckin’ Great! You guys’ll have ta . . . Oh Fucking Shit! . . . try out what this fucker can do! DAMN!” Finch managed to moan his explanation around the effects my tongue was having on his body.

I ran my tongue in circular patterns, then began a quick jabbing motion. Finch moaned louder and louder and attempted to catch my tongue with his pulsating pucker. Finally, he backed off, and ordered me to suck his dick. As I went down on his cock, I noticed the redness of the head, the slight, rosey-pink color to his skin, and the dark red curls of his pubic bush. Finch snorted, half pleasure and half jeer, as I went all the way down deeply into his crotch until my nose hit his abdomen. It was then I realized that Finch didn’t have any hair on his balls and that his pubic bush was “sculpted”. Then, as I thought on it, I recognized that his butt-crack had been absent of hair as well.

Finch grabbed the back of my neck and thrust up with his dick at the same time, pinning me. He held me there until I was choking for air. He let me off and I gasped for breath. He got up and untied me. I rolled to my side, wondering why he was letting me go when he hadn’t finished himself off yet. As I lay on my side, rubbing my neck, ribs, and head, Finch moved in behind me and used a wrestling move on me. He tossed me around until I was on my back again with my legs up and wrapped around his waist. He grinned down at me as I felt his dick pressing against my ass. He had my hands pinned above my head, and he began to writhe against me to get his cock into position. I felt the hot trail of pre-jiz he left behind as his hot dick searched out my bunghole. His smile got wider as he hit his mark. I moaned as he added pressure, dropping his weight on me and pressing his searing dick-head against my opening.

“Now, Faggot, beg me to fuck you like the bitch you are!” Finch grunted.

“Fuck me! Finch, please, fuck me! I want you to fuck me, please!” I was so worked up that I begged and begged to be ravaged. I didn’t stop to think about all the past cruelties he had inflicted against me. All I could do was live in the moment with four hot studs who were hot for my ass.

I noticed it only after I had said it, but an evil grin had replaced the lusty one that had been on Finch’s face just moments before. “No, Faggot, I won’t fuck you,” he said.

I looked up with disbelief. I couldn’t accept what had just transpired. Once again, I had fallen into one of Finch’s traps. He had me and he knew it. I silently cursed myself for my stupidity. How could I have trusted this guy to go through with anything he said when in all the time that I had known him, he had done nothing but abuse me?

He stood up to take a more intimidating stance.

He looked back down at me and grinned that smile that had haunted me throughout middle school and high school. The smile that said, “Yeah, get ready, Fucker, I’m gonna take you down in front of everyone again.” It was the smile that preceded every cruel trick and every cruel word he had ever said to me. Then he opened his lips and the next cruelty began.

“I know . . . Ray? Todd? You guys ready to go again?”

“Yep! . . . You bet!” came their replies.

“Well, what say you fellas have another go at him while I work him up some?”

“Whadda ya wan' us ta do?” Todd asked.

“Do whatever gets you off!” was Finch’s reply.

Ray nudged Todd and they moved over to where I lay. Ray told Todd to make me get up on all fours and take me in the rear while he took me in the other end. Todd looked uneasy at first, but evidently he had finally warmed up to the idea because he took up the position. They were about to stick me when Finch stopped them.

“No! Don’t fuck him!” Finch crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, kicking one heel up to the wall, just like he had when he was posing on the “cool wall” in high school.

Ray started to say something, then changed his mind. Todd was confused by the issue until Dave said, “You don’t have to shove your cock in his ass to ride him, Todd.”

Still confused, Todd queried, “Whadda ya mean? How c’n I ride ‘im if I ain’t fuck’n’ ‘im?”

Dave sort of rolled his eyes and then began as if he were talking to a child, “You just slide that fat, un-cut cock of yours up and down his crack until you shoot your load all over him.”

Todd must have understood that because he started gyrating against my butt without any further instructions.

Ray waited momentarily then told me to look at him as he shoved his cock down my throat. I rolled my eyes up as far as I could. When I made eye contact, he put his hand under my chin and slowly guided his semi-hard cock toward my waiting mouth. Just as he made contact with my lips, he smiled and pulled away.

I must have groaned in disappointment because he said, “Don’t worry, Joey, you’ll get my dick.” I was moved by the fact that he called me Joey each time and not faggot. There was a lot more to this guy than I had previously thought. Either he had mellowed in the past thirteen years, or I had judged him wrongly all this time.
He grinned down at me and said, “Get ready, here it comes.”

This time, he did push in and I was again struggling against its girth. A sigh escaped him as he hit bottom. In the meantime, Todd began pushing more frantically against my backside. I had barely noticed that he was bent over me until I heard his muffled grunting in my ear. He had wrapped his right arm around my waist with his right hand on my lower abdomen just below my navel, his left hand was gripping my left arm just below the elbow, and his chin was in the center of my back, just below my neck. He was in a beginning wrestler’s stance. He had stopped dry-humping me for the moment and had reached up with his left hand and began pushing downward on my head.

He muttered little encouragements like: “Suck it” and “All the way down” and “Eat Ray’s meat.”

I was only half amazed when he scooted up on my back so that his head was next to mine. Todd began pumping a little more frantically as he watched Ray’s meat sliding in and out of my mouth. He didn’t realize his mistake until Ray had the tip of his cock between Todd’s parted lips; by then, it was too late. I felt Todd tense up and thought there was going to be a big problem when I got the bright idea to begin humping against Todd. Ray picked up on my action and began petting Todd’s head.

“Oh, yeah, Todd, come on! Suck my straight dick! Oh, man, this is so hot! My best straight friend’s fuck’n’ suck’n’ on my dick!”

This disarmed him enough to keep him at it. He didn’t seem to mind that he had his friend’s fat cock in his mouth. Todd let out a small sound that indicated he was about to cum. That sound quickly turned to a full-fledged grunting moan as he let loose with a volley that began making squishing noises between our bodies.

We kept this up for a couple of minutes (Todd must have really dug sucking Ray’s cock) when without warning, Ray said, “Open wide, Joey!”

His dick was out of Todd’s mouth and back in mine before either of us knew it was happening. Ray rammed his cock deep down my throat for the second time and fired his shots before I could get a taste.

Todd disengaged and went to the sink to wash up. In his sloppy place was Dave. Dave rubbed his dick in Todd’s spent jism, making sure to slick up his entire shaft. He took up Todd’s wresting position with one minor alteration—he put his dick underneath my body, so that he was pressing against my balls and still-raging, pre-cum dripping, blood-filled aching cock.

Dave began a ragged rocking motion and bit me on the shoulders and back. He scooted up by my face and looked up at Ray expectantly. Dave told me to look at him. Our faces were mere millimeters apart and his lips touched mine as he told Ray, “Stick your dick between our lips, Ray.”

Ray quickly complied and began a poking motion between our two mouths. We licked and mouthed his deflating hard-on back to full-bore; occasionally our tongues met and our lips touched. Ray began alternating pushing his cock down my throat and Dave’s. Ray began asking us which of us wanted to take a big gulp from his beer can. He teased us as he poked around our tonsils.

“Who wants it most? Show Daddy who wants his hot protein shake,” he taunted, his voice scratchy with lust. “Let’s have a contest, the mouth with the most pressure and moan’n’ will get Daddy’s sweet juice.” I fought hard against Dave for the prize. I wasn’t surprised to see Dave going after Ray’s cock with slutty abandon. He hummed and moaned so loudly I thought I would go deaf. But, I wasn’t going to let Ray down, nor was I about to let Dave get the goods. When I got my turn again, I applied a little trick of my own.

Now that I was ready, I reached back to my old singing days and began using some of the things I had learned. Even without using breath techniques, I knew I would win when I started humming the octave scales we had used for warm-up exercises (And my guidance counselor thought that choir would never pay off in the future). I was a bit taken aback when Ray pulled out of my mouth and gave his cock to Dave. Dave seemed to look at me from the corner of his eye and gloat. However, as he neared his third climax, Ray pulled out of Dave’s mouth and shouted, “Get ready, Joey! This cum’s fer you!”

This time, I was not going to miss out on tasting his load, so I pushed against Ray’s abdomen with my forehead and controlled the amount of cock he could feed me. I kept the head of his cock cradled neatly on my tongue and greedily slurped up Ray’s third load. It was slightly peppery, but tasty just the same.

Spent, he pulled away from me slowly, as if he didn’t want to ever leave my mouth then made his way to the sinks to clean up as well. Dave was pissed and began to brutalize my body as he rode me. He called me a cum slut, and dug his fingers into my nipples and bit harder at my shoulders, but I didn’t care. He pulled off of me and spun in front of me. In one swift maneuver, he had propelled his Todd-spooge-covered dick into my mouth.

While he pistoned in and out, he began to slap my ass really hard. Finch’s voice called out, “Dave.” They didn’t say anything, so I don’t know what transpired between them, but Dave suddenly dropped his abuse down a couple of notches. I was getting confused again. What was going on with Finch? Punching and kicking were okay, but slapping my ass too forcefully was out? Nonetheless, Dave pushed in and out of my mouth with the same forcefulness he began with. About ten more pushes and he was groaning, firing his pleasure and anger and cum deep into my throat. He planted both of his hands on the back of my head and pushed for all his might. He had stopped cumming, but wasn’t letting me come up. I was gagging and struggling for air. I was about to bite down when Dave’s dick seemed to explode from my mouth.

A startled “Wha’ th’ fuck?” emanated from Dave as Finch forced him away from me.

Todd and Ray moved forward to hold back Dave. In the interim, they had begun getting back into their clothes. I could hear them rummaging around for their discarded clothing while Dave was fucking my windpipe closed. Finch leaned down to check on me. I was still gagging and gasping for breath. Snot and tears were running down my face from the denial of air.

“Are you alright . . . ,” I thought Finch seemed genuinely concerned. His eyes showed signs of compassion, his voice seemed empathetic, I was nearly suckered in again until he added the dreaded name, “Faggot?”

Todd held back Dave while Ray joined me and Finch. Finch merely leaned down, hands on his knees, looking at me. Ray, on the other hand, was kneeling next to me, trying to get me to a sitting position. His right hand rubbed my back gently as he supported me with his left.

“Are you O.K., Joey?” There was genuine concern in Ray’s question. He looked up at Finch and then over darkly at Dave.

“What the fuck is yer problem, shithead?” Ray hollered. I was amazed that when he was angry he could actually enunciate. (I notice weird shit like that.)

“Whadda you care, Ray? He’s only a stinkin’ faggot!” Dave returned. “Ya seemed alrigh’ with beat’n’ th’ shit outta him b’fore. What’s so differen’ now? You goin’ sweet on th’ li'l pansy?”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kick the shit out of you and see how you like it! The way I remember it, you were goin’ at my cock like a fuck’n’ whore yerself. So who’s the faggot now, Dave?”

Ray was getting worked up to a level that showed he meant business. Dave wasn’t very booksmart, but he at least knew when to shut his mouth.

Finch looked from Ray to Dave and said, “Alright, get your shit together and get the fuck out of here.”

“Bu . . . ,” Dave began to say something, but one look from Finch cut him off.

“Fuck you, asshholes!” Dave exclaimed as he bent over to pick up his clothes.

That was all it took for Ray to launch himself at Dave. After four or five good punches to the head and about the same amount of knees to the mid-section, Dave had the wind knocked from his sails. It took both Todd and Finch to pull Ray a couple of feet away from Dave who had backpedaled as far as he could to cower against the wall.

Ray looked down at Dave and said, “I’d better not see you for a while, mother-fucker! If I do, I’ll kick your scrawny little ass across the county and into next year!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Finch said. His tone said he meant business. I still don’t know what he has that the others listen to him like they do. “Get your shit and get out of here.”

Ray eyed Finch for a minute then asked, “What about Joey?”

“What about him?”

“Whadd’re ya goin’ ta do to ‘im if we leave?” Ray continued. He walked over to me and handed me some toilet paper from one of the stalls. “Here, Joey, clean yerself up.”

I was startled to see him go against Finch like this. Normally, he would just do what he was told. Now, he was asking questions. And what about the weight of the word "if" in his last statement? What was it I was witnessing here? I know I should have been worried about myself at this point, but I was confounded by the events unfolding. I guess I had made an ally here.

“What are you askin’ me all of these questions for, Ray?” Finch’s tone grew even more ominous; it was clear he wasn’t used to being questioned about his decisions.

“I just wanna know what yer gonna do to Joey if we leave. That’s all.”

“Ray, you and Todd and Dave get the fuck out of here now! I’ll take care of this; you just get outta here and let me handle it.”

Ray stepped between Finch and me. I thought it was going to come to another fight. “I’m not leavin’ Joey if yer plannin’ ta hurt ‘im.”

There it was, the ultimatum! I noticed that Ray had returned to his slanged-out speech pattern, so I didn’t know what to think of that. Still, I could see Finch fuming as if he were going to go after Ray. This hadn’t happened between them since our class had a senior party the night after our last day of high school. They had been drunk back then, too. (Remember, I told you about my class’s get-togethers being little melodramas.) It was sort of a joke that they were both in their underwear and some of the guys thought it would be funny if they got Ray and Finch to kiss-and-make-up. In their drunken states, they did, then promptly passed out. But that was then, and they didn’t seem to be all that drunk now. Were events repeating themselves? Here we have Ray and Finch—one with his pants only half way up, his dick hanging out, the other completely naked, respectively,—close to fighting. Back then, it had been over a girl. Tonight . . . .

I had no illusions about how this fight would end. With Ray still feeling the affects of the alcohol and his pants hanging loosely (an obvious deficit if they were to begin fighting), and Finch, I suspected, was totally clear-headed and naked as the day he was born. The advantage was clearly Finch’s.

I wasn’t sure how to intervene. I knew, however, that I would back Ray in any way I could. I’m not a slouch at the gym, but most of my workouts were to shape and tone, not to build muscle mass and strength. I wouldn’t be of much help, but I would try. Finch’s reply left me thunderstruck.

“Nothing is going to happen to the faggot. Get out of here; we’re done.” Finch eyed the others, who finished getting dressed. “Go on, I’ll make sure he gets out.”

Despite Finch’s assurances, Ray remained after Dave and Todd had left. Finch hadn’t made a move to get dressed, but he hadn’t made a move toward me either. Ray eyeballed Finch, who went over to the urinal to piss.

I quickly began to collect my stuff. I wasn’t going to be leaving here after Ray was gone, that was for sure!

It didn’t take me too long to figure out that my clothes were useless, they had been destroyed in the initial assault.

When he noticed the state of my clothes, Ray offered, “I’ve got some stuff at home you can wear. I’ll go and get them, it won’t take me too long.”

“Thanks, Ray . . . I . . . ,” I muttered and stopped. I know now how ridiculous that sounds, considering he had been one of my assailants, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly at that point.

Ray and I looked over to where Finch was shaking his dick at the urinal. Still naked, he walked nonchalantly to the row of sinks and began to wash himself. He took his time, looking at my naked body in the mirrors from time to time. He picked up his clothes, slipped his khaki shorts on, rolled his boxers and undershirt into his shirt, stepped into his worn Doc Martins and left.

“No problem, Joey. It’ll take me about an hour to get home and back, will you be okay?” Ray asked.

“I think I’ll be alright,” I answered.

“Joey, I’m sorry . . . .” Ray looked at the floor while he said it.

I was shaking both from the sudden cold I was feeling and from the gamut of emotions I had run in the last hour or so. Ray noticed my trembling and moved to place my costume cape around me. It didn’t do much to abate my tremors, but I appreciated the gesture just the same. I didn’t know how Ray would feel about my hugging him, so I stood there mutely in the ugly, green restroom. Neither of us looked at the other.

It was Ray who finally broke the silence, “Well, I’ll just go get those clothes fer ya. It won’t take me too long. I promise. Just stay inside by the doors and wait for me to get back. O.K.?” He looked directly into my eyes when he said it. I noticed they were blue. They were a light blue in the center with rings of a darker shade around the outside. I didn’t break the gaze.

He looked awkwardly at his watch and said, “Shit! It’s 3:45 a.m. Theresa’s going to kill me! Look, Joey, I’ve gotta get goin’. I’ll be real quick, so don’t worry.” He turned quickly and left the restroom.

I took another five minutes in the restroom cleaning myself up, assessing bruises, getting cum out of my hair and other places. That’s when I realized I hadn’t cum yet. Stupid, I know, but I told you I was a horny guy. Besides, studies have shown that guys use sex to relieve stress and right about now, I was sitting on the Mount Vesuvius of all stress. I figured I had some time before Ray got back with his clothes, so I decided I’d rub one or two out before he got back.

I lay down on the floor and began to rub my body. I felt my ribs where I had been kicked; yep, I’d have a nice bruise for a while. My stomach was sore, but I was getting over that already. I noticed that Finch must have pulled his punches or something because I wasn’t really in any pain from where he had been hitting me. It was only that bastardly Dave who had kicked me in the ribs and punched me in the face. I bunched up the remainder of my costume and made a bit of a pillow for my head. I used my destroyed posing strap to create a sort of cloth dildo. I bunched it up and pushed it up against my hungry bunghole. I was super horny and found a part of me regretting that I let Ray go home. He probably wouldn’t fuck me now, and I needed it badly. I began to gently caress my chest and abdomen as my dick began to harden. I didn’t touch it as it sawed up to full erection. I was thinking about the cocks I had just had. Yes, I know I was forced, but I don’t know that I can call it rape. I began thinking about Ray. How his dark hair fell into his eyes; how his muscles were strong and firm. I remembered the size, shape, smell, taste, feel, texture and heat of his penis as he filled my mouth with it. I remembered how tender he had been, how he had been almost like a lover.

I leaned up on my elbows and stopped my reminiscing. I couldn’t afford to get hooked on Ray. He was married to Theresa. He had a job, a mortgage, and three kids. He was straight.

“Fuck yourself, Joey! You are fucking messed up!” I spoke aloud to myself in the eerie restroom that echoed my lament.

“I’d like to see that.”

I jumped a mile out of my skin. I turned. It was Finch. He was leaning against the stall, lewdly stroking his engorged cock which he pointed right at me.

“Ray’ll be right back, Finch . . . .” I didn’t bother to continue the lame threat. He knew how long it would take Ray to get back. I was alone with Finch after all.

“I see you’re still hard.” Finch smirked at my erection which was slowly bobbing with my heartbeat.

“Finch, I . . . ,” I began, “Look, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

His only answer was to move over to stand above me, his excited dick pointing the way.

I looked up at him, a mixture of fear, loathing, and desire (if I were truly honest with myself) crossing my face.

“You’re still hard,” he repeated in a hoarse whisper. “What are we gonna do about it?”

I began to shake again. My nerves couldn’t take it anymore. “Finch, why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

I was staring up his naked body into his dark brown eyes. His red hair was haloed by the florescent lighting. His pink skin was vibrant, his dick was waving at me. Finch slowly smiled his handsomest smile, the one that told me he was about to fuck with me one last time. His teeth were white, his smile widened like he were the Cheshire Cat. He began doing controlled muscle-ups with his dick (You know how; you contract your groin muscles to get your cock to bounce up and down.)

“We both know you want it. I’ve been watching you since Ray left.”

I went cold at his words, yet it was true I craved touching him. I was nearly mesmerized by his robust cock bouncing merrily in front of my face. I felt the blood rushing in opposing directions, half to my face, half to my cock. I silently wondered which head would win.

“I think you’re hot to get fucked. Aren’t you? I saw you shove your strap up your ass.”

It was true, I had done that. In fact, I was still sitting on it and could feel its pressure against my anus. The contention still raged between my two heads. He was being very seductive, yet every atom in my being was crying out not to trust him.

“I can fix you up with what you need . . . . I can hit that spot no one else has ever found for you . . . . C’mon, ask me to fuck you . . . .”

My cock was to the point of being over-filled with blood; it was getting slicker my the moment. My uppermost head was losing to the one-eyed super-brain below my navel.

Noticing the crack in my resolve, Finch moved an inch closer. His dancing dick nearly touching my lips.

“Go ahead, have a taste . . . . You’ve wanted this since eighth grade . . . .”

It was true. His voice was breaking me down. I could feel my head nodding toward his cock that was so close to my mouth and nose that I could feel its heat. I could smell my dried saliva on his skin. I was annoyed with myself that his tactic of pausing at the end of each statement was working. How it left me with the impression that they were my ideas, he was only voicing them for me. How the pauses made feel like I was hanging, suspended by his pendulous cock swaying heavily before me.

“Open up . . . . Just a little . . . . I’ll do the rest . . . .”

I made the mistake of looking into his eyes again. And then I felt my lips parting, my head moving only slightly forward. Then my lips were wide apart, my mouth was filled with just the head of the beautiful, bouncing cock. It barely registered that he sighed as he gently eased his dick into my mouth. I didn’t notice his hand stroking my hair, the other reaching gently to tweak my nipple. I disregarded any warnings when he took my wrists and held them behind my head. I was focusing on only two of my senses—taste and smell. I was caught up in the joy of having him invade my mouth. I was in more danger than I could have ever imagined.

There was no forcefulness behind his pushing me away from his penis. It was more like a nudge than being pushed. That got my attention. I looked up into those dark eyes. Fuck me for my fatal weakness: redheads. Fuck me that I was so screwed in the head that I was kneeling at the feet of one of my worst tormentors in my teenage years. Fuck me that I had not been more vigilant that I allowed him to sneak up on me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me . . . it was my new mantra.

Finch looked down at me. His eyes had a mesmerizing effect on me, like the eyes of a serpent that can hypnotize its prey; I knew that if I looked him in the eyes that I would be at his mercy; and he is so cock-sure of himself that he gives me that smirk again. Why is he so sexy? Why do I give him this power over me? I was so caught up in a brain feaver that I hadn’t heard him. I refused to look anywhere but at his entrancing red pubic bush. He gently pushed my head back further. The head of his cock pulled out of my mouth with a resounding pop. I stared blankly, mouth open, focusing on that one place in the universe that I belonged, that intensely hot, perfect, cylinder of flesh and blood that is Finch’s penis.

He forced me to make eye contact and asked, “How badly do you want me to fuck you, . . . Joey?”

Should I continue this or let it go?
Questions, comments, flames, blah, blah, blah.... Email: Bud_83@hotmail.com