OBEYING PETER by will obe
Chapter 8
The Gamekeeper has fucked his bitch, me. Now he pulls up his pants and runs off through the trees followed by his barking dog. I'm left there naked and bent over, his spunk trickling down my legs. I savour the humiliation until I hear the hunting dogs and the whoops and whistles of George and Edward as their horses crash through the trees. Fortunately they're on the other side of the stream.
I admit the thought of being cornered by hunting dogs and my ensuing dog rape until George and Edward rescue me by cracking their whips to clear the dogs and then whipping my naked flesh holds me for a few seconds, but I decide although the fantasy is very much my scene, it is a step too far. Instead I make off through the trees and eventually come to a main road. Now what? A naked guy thumbing a lift? I walk along the road and dive for cover whenever a vehicle approaches from either direction. Coming to the edge of a village I find myself walking past what must be the village football club. On the far side of the field I can see a white painted clubhouse illuminated by the full moon.
Country people are so trusting. The door of the pavilion is open. Inside are odd items of clothing and I'm able to cover my nakedness with some old dirty white shorts and an oversize dirty red football shirt. Both smell wonderfully of someone else's sweat. I put them on and a pair of old trainers.
Avoiding cars, I eventually thumb a lift on a truck with a driver who is friendly and chatty. Buy mostly about football and his girlfriend. He drops me off in central London on the Thames Embankment. It's a warm humid night and well after midnight. Being dog-tired I find an empty park bench, curl up like the other down and outs on other benches and quickly drop off to sleep. Sometime after dawn I'm prodded awake.
"You've ten minutes to clear off or you're for it," a woman's voice.
It's a policewoman and her male sidekick. They walk off laughing, leaving me to yawn and stretch my limbs before I naturally do as I've been told to do and wander off down a side street of expensive houses and apartment blocks. The only people up and about are joggers and a postman. I'm getting desperate for a piss and luckily at the next corner find a walk down Victorian lavatory. It's dimly lit and smells of urine and disinfectant. I step up to the trough and I'm just starting to piss when a very tall, hunky young jogger in a tracksuit steps up beside me and hauls out a long very nice cock. I look up into his hazel coloured eyes and we smile at each other. He reaches out, tucks up my shirt and squeezes with my nipples until I'm wincing. Lowering his hand he gently grips my now hardening prick and drops the fingers of his other hand into my piss stream. The same fingers move around and down the back of my shorts where they start probing into and finger fucking my boycunt.
"You like that?" he asks.
"Oh yes Sir."
"I've a feeling you like doing as you're told? Especially in a public place?"
I hear someone coming down the steps, but The Jogger's holding me and I can't move.
"I do Sir."
The newcomer is a young postman. He drops his postbag in a corner and comes over to take a piss on my other side.
"Okay, lets do it right. Strip everything off and let us see you naked."
"Yes Sir."
I drop my shorts and bend to take them off together with the trainers as the Jogger and Postman drag off my shirt. Now I'm naked in front of them with the Jogger's finger back in my anus and the Postman tweaking my nipples with one hand and stroking my prick with the other.
"That's a nice caned ass you have baby. Bit noisy to belt you here. Perhaps some other time? What you say?"
"Whatever you say Sir."
"Good, Now before we fuck you, anything else you would really like us to do babe?" asks the Jogger.
"Will you both piss over me Sir?" In this place I can't resist this fantasy of mine.
"Lie down on your stomach, spread-eagled."
Down I go, flat on my face, the cold tiled floor making me feel the reality and degradation of the scene.
Two streams of piss cascade over me. Onto my hair, neck, feet, ass and back.
"Turn over piss boy."
Now it's my face, chest, erect prick and shaved balls.
"Open that mouth and let's see you drink."
Jogger and Postman aim their cocks at my mouth. I can see them grinning down at me on the floor as I try to swallow all their yellow piss. It overflows onto the floor and I feel myself wallowing in a pool of piss. As I lie there catching the last few drips they jiggle from their cocks I hear more footsteps and struggle to sit up. The jogger places a large wet trainer on me to keep me down.
"Stay boy. Don't you want to be on view to all comers?"
Now it's a young guy in a business suit I guess on his way to work.
"What you got here Clive?" he addresses the Jogger as he looks down at me.
"Fancy a piss Bruce?" asks Clive.
"I'm bursting for one, but I want to shag him afterwards."
"Join the queue," says the Postman.
Bruce drops his suit trousers and briefs. Looking up I see a lovely hairy balls and a great cock in every sense of the word. He controls his spray of warm urine and covers my whole body before squatting down; his cock a few inches from my face and releases a torrent of piss. I open my mouth and drink. Clive and the Postman watching, wanking their hard cocks.
They haul me to my feet and bend me over in front of Bruce's still dripping cock. I take it eagerly into my mouth as the Postman thrusts his cock up my fuckhole and Clive starts pumping his cock in my face next to the one I'm sucking on hard. I'm delirious with sexual excitement as these three guys use me. The Postman is grunting as he grinds his cock up my ass. More grunts and a shout as he unloads and I feel the spurts of his cum shooting into me. I hear him scrabbling to pull up his pants and then his feet pounding up the steps. Clive swiftly inserts his cock into my mouth as Bruce moves to thrust his cock up my spunk filled hole. They both fuck me hard at each end and I'm on cloud nine.
"What you think Bruce? Worth missing your coffee for?"
"Couldn't believe it when you phoned me to join you here," puffs Bruce as he goes at me hard, "that you'd sighted a pretty blond cutie going for a piss."
"Thought he might be up for more. Wasn't I right fuckboy?"
"Yes Sir. Thank you Sir."
"Just listen to him Brucie. A born again sub-boy needing to be dominated."
"He's come to the right place in that case. Are you owned by anyone babe?" asks Bruce.
"No Sir," the lie comes out easily because I don't want to explain about Master Peter and George and Edward to these guys.
My answer seems to feed their desire and my mouth and butthole can hardly cope with their fast and furious redoubled thrusts.
Now, as they fuck, they shout out a mixture of dominant abuse.
"Take it whore... cuntboy... bitch... babe slave... swallow my seed... take it... oh yeah girlie-boy... you worthless bit of shit... aaaargh... aaaargh... hellfire... up your ass boy.
Please let me know if this chapter has made you hard and cumming. will.obe@btinternet.com