One thing I might do - Chapter 4 - gay authoritarian sex tale, by Simon Harper - sharper@inorbit.com - Please tell me what you think, especially if you like it ;-)
I am a cum hole and when I see Brian at work I check to see if he looks like he wants to cum in me; if he looks like he does then I head to the toilets and stand at the urinal. When Brian arrives he puts the 'Toilets Being Cleaned' sign on the door so no one else will come in and he comes in and stands by the sinks. He takes out his fat dick and starts to play with it. He calls my name and I go over.
Sometimes he wants to piss in me first.
It took some time before I realised that I could tell when he wanted to do it. To begin with he just seemed to appear out of nowhere while I was urinating and put his arms around me from behind and reach down and grab my balls really hard saying "Don't scream" in my ear. Then he would work his fingers into me, down my trousers, and then push me down and fuck me on the floor; but this made it difficult for me to keep clean and took too long.
He said things like "Good boy for doing as you're told," and "You recognised my sign," until I realised that I had been going to the toilet coincidentally when he wanted me to and I realised that he was signalling. From then on I waited for his signal and then went. It was funny I guess.
"I'd like to see more of you," he said once as we were travelling in the lift up to the canteen floor. He put his arms round me and squeezed me and put his lips close to mine so I could smell the stale smoke on his breath again.
"You're such a horney little cunt, you know." He was being affectionate. "And I think you like me. Do you like me? I'd like to show you more of a good time."
I didn't have any conception of what he meant so I said "I'm not sure."
"Not sure of what? Don't you like it, what we do?"
"My ... current boyfriend."
"What about him? What's he got to do with it? I know you don't feel anything for him. Why are you staying with him? Why do you let people treat you like that?"
I felt little tears prick the edges of my eyes and I wiped them away. He said my name and hugged me tight and said "Ohh ... you. Silly. What are you?"
"Silly," I said.
When I told my current boyfriend what Brian had said he laughed out loud.
"That pansy?" he said. "What does he do?"
"He uses me to cum in Sir."
"Yeh, and what else?"
"He uses ... to fuck me."
"Big deal."
"And he ..."
"Shut up!"
I crept over and started to lick at his feet thinking all the time that I didn't matter compared to what my current boyfriend or Brian or some other guy with me wanted.
I licked his feet and then I lifted myself up and carefully ran my tongue over his scrotum and then his dick until it started to stiffen and he put down his beer and stuffed himself in my mouth, punching my ears and abusing me until he got bored and just stood up and walked off.
"What did he say?" asked Brian.
"I don't know yet."
Then one day we were in this bar and I saw Brian come in with his friend. They both looked nervous when they saw us but apparently decided to say hello because they were marching towards us.
Before they could say anything I said to my current boyfriend, "This is that bloke Brian."
My current boyfriend looked up and swung round to where they were coming from and placed himself between them and me. Brian smiled defensively. He looked at me and then looked at my current boyfriend.
"Cute," he said.
"And you are...?" asked my current boyfriend.
"Brian... I work with him." He smiled and pointed at me and I moved back because I wasn't sure if my current boyfriend wanted a confrontation.
"So you're the big stud."
"I thought you were the big stud," said Brian.
My current boyfriend thought for a while. Then he grabbed my soft hand and gave it to Brian like in a marriage ceremony.
"Here," he said.
I know that was all a bit ridiculous; but put two queens in a room like that and stuff like that happens - as you probably know. Brian was dumbstruck and he just started laughing.
"Is that all there is to it?" he said.
"You and your friend can share."
"What about you?" asked Brian's friend.
"What about me?"
"We thought you could come too ... if you like."
Brian came over and put his arm round my waist, stroking the skin under my T-shirt with easy familiarity.
"Why should I want?" asked my current boyfriend.
"Don't then," said Brian and he started to lead me away with his friend in tow.
Before we were out of earshot my current boyfriend shouted to me.
"One thing," he said when I turned to look. He was holding this stupid bar snack in his fingers just in front of his face. He put it in his mouth and I knew what was coming because he'd done it before. He looked down and spat the scrap out so that it landed just at his feet in a little bubbled puddle of his saliva. Before Brian could hear the words "eat that", I had slipped out of his grip and was down on the floor picking it up, with my lips brushing the ground. I could feel the beer-sticky carpet on my hands, but what I didn't expect was when I looked up to say "Thank you, Sir," - loads of guys were stopped talking and were looking on in like a bit of a circle - and his foot, toe, just slammed into my face, I don't know, and I like folded up, bleeding into the gunge on my palms.
He kicked me again and I tried to get myself together enough to say again "Thank you, Sir," but I was really snivelling with all the shock. I was shaking like a big jelly and there was this blood coming out. All I could think was that I must say 'thank you' as soon as I could but I simply couldn't speak and so I turned to look as Brian and tried to smile like it was alright.
"You're stupid," said my current boyfriend. He stood up and was walking off. Nobody said anything - though I think he was banned from that particular pub!
All the men there in that circle stood around looking at me like morons. I just thought they were a bunch of cunts and decided to try to make it to the toilet by myself. They were all frozen to the spot - or perhaps they were moving slower in time.
Brian and his friend and another bloke who none of them knew, I thought, followed me into the toilet and Brian started to moisten some toilet tissue and dab at me. The new bloke, in a load of biker gear, told me to lift my head to stop the nosebleed, which I did, obediently. He was handsome.
The bar manager let me sit in a room round the back to recover.
I heard Brian say, "He's really into this." And I saw the bar manager looking at me and nodding.
Later on the guy in biker gear came through again and asked how I was. He tried to ask me a load of questions about stuff but when he did the bar manager strangely appeared and said "He'll be alright, won't you?" and he cuddled me and stroked my head. "We'll look after him," he said.
I was immediately scared.
My nose had stopped bleeding by this stage.
"Will you be alright?" asked the biker.
"He'll be fine, won't you?" said the bar manager. "Like I said, we'll make sure of that."
I could see that the biker didn't understand. He didn't understand. He didn't understand. He didn't understand anything. He didn't understand what "Look after" meant - the many times I'd be entered that night and the way they forced me to eat out their smelly ass holes and swallow their yellow spunk and how I'd wake in a pool of their piss and my own vomit.
He didn't understand "He'll be fine," meaning I'd never be able to imagine another way to live.
"When you get to my age you don't exactly expect a lot of sympathy. I don't suppose people would even want to do what they do ... do to me if I hadn't used this time to, like, detox, get myself, in shape and, really, work on my, attitude," I said.
"Your age!" said the biker. "You're not that old."
"Old enough, to know, what, I'm doing."
"Granted. And if this is what you really want ..."
"I don't exactly got a, choice."
"You do so have a choice."
"I don't think you, understand."
That's when he started stroking me behind the ear, like a little cat, and I thought, "Here we go again."
He manoeuvred himself closer to me and whispered, "Hey?" and tried to kiss me so I kissed him back.
"You know," he said, gently, smoothing down my skin on my neck and groping my ass lightly like he already might own it.
I smiled like a simpleton and blushed.
"You're cute, you're attractive, you've looked after yourself, you have a really cute ..."
"Bum?" I said.
"Smile."
I groaned childishly.
The door opened and my current boyfriend looked into the room. He sang "Hello young lovers..." - he doesn't know many show tunes - and came in.
"What's up?" he said.
"Nothing much," said the biker.
I stood up, my hands behind my back and looking down at the floor, ready.
"Well, we're going," said my current boyfriend.
"Oh?" said the biker.
This was some weeks after the pub incident and Brian had asked a load of friends, including me and including my current boyfriend, round for, like, a few drinks, and some sort of orgy if everyone got going. I knew my current boyfriend was up for that and he'd love seeing me being fucked and abused by a gang of near strangers. What he didn't like was if there were no cute guys he could use. Brian's Party, it turned out, was not exactly Puppy Heaven. Brian friends were generally boring and physically decrepit.
The biker was a bit of an exception. I was really surprised when he arrived. Turns out he knows Brian and Brian's friend and loads of other people. He walked in and spotted me really quickly but didn't say anything until my current boyfriend was distracted by a porn video Brian put on this big screen TV of his. My current boyfriend was mesmerised and the biker just came up to me and grabbed my hand and he pulled me. I just followed because he led me into a pink-lit bedroom.
He closed the door.
I stood there, waiting for him to tell me what to do.
"Take a seat," he said.
I didn't know what to do.
"Sit down!"
I sat down where I was, on the floor.
"Tell me about yourself," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at me.
His leather trousers breathed gently when he moved and his full dark beard made his lips look softer and very red like they were hidden and sexual. He had removed his jacket earlier. He had a white T-shirt on. His chest hair crowded out of the v-neckline and his forearms were hairy with an uncontrollable dark hairy mat. Even his knuckles were hairy and his eyes were black - very dark brown. He was a fucking clone! What was he playing at?
I focused my eyes on his regulation German Army boots, without saying anything.
"You would lick them wouldn't you?"
"Yes ..." I did want to lick his boots. I wanted to lick his creaking leather package too. I wanted to smell him and push my face over his hairy belly and feel his hands ... Christ, where was I going with this?
That's when we started talking.
"Are you alright?"
My lips started trembling. "I wish people would stop asking that," I said swallowing some tears and shifting my ass on my heels.
"You don't like being alright."
"I'm fine, ok? Fine. Just, fine."
"I see." He tapped his toes quietly and slowly on the bright carpet. I watched. When blokes start tapping their feet, you know, it usually means they want something. They even do it unconsciously; but I've learned this signal. I knelt up with my hands behind my back.
"Wowh, what's this?" he asked.
"It means I'm ready, for whatever you want," I said.
"Oh, I getchya."
He leaned forward and put his hands in a creepy fashion on my shoulders and looked into my eyes very steadily. I had to look away - it was too creepy.
"Look at me," he said.
"I said look at me," he repeated.
He lifted a hand and wiped away some wet on my cheek with his thumb. I flinched.
"Sore? It looks it. Is that what your so called boyfriend did that other night?"
"You saw what he did."
"It was assault."
"No. He was angry."
The biker gave out a loud yelp of exasperation.
"Well that much was clear," he said.
I started shaking because he was stroking my head and stroking my arms and gradually he was pulling me towards him and whispering in a low and lower and softer and softer tone.
"You're not very clever, are you?" he said.
"No."
"What I mean is ... not that you're stupid ... what I mean is," he took a deep breath and summoned all his most priest-like powers of sincerity, "you, don't, have, to ... get treated like this. You deserve better."
"No I don't!" I snivelled.
He pulled my head into his chest and I smelt the washing powder on his shirt, then I smelt the odour from his armpits where they had been sweating inside his jacket and the two mixed with the smell of leather and the pin talcum-powder smell of the room we were in.
I tried to concentrate on him and I breathed the admixture deeply into my lungs.
"There", he said, "is a different way to be." All the time one arm was around my shoulders and the other was stroking my hair and my ears and my eyebrows and my cheeks and my lips and my chin and my lips and my nose and my forehead and up over my head and down the back of my neck and then up again, like against the grain of my hair, and onto my face again all the time whispering "there", and "there", and "there" again.
After a while I put my hand on his leather package and felt his cock inside. It was absolutely rock solid.
"Fuck! You only ever think about one thing, don't you?" he laughed.
"I'm, I'm sorry Sir," I said, automatically.
"Don't call me that."
"I'm, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry."
"I'm, I'm ..."
He laughed.
"What are you?"
"I'm, I'm ... not used to this, all this ..."
"All this what?"
"All this, sympathy. When you get to my age you don't exactly expect a lot of sympathy ..."
You know the rest.
I followed my current boyfriend out into the hall and down the stairs. We left without saying anything to anybody. I don't think they were too pleased, Brian and the rest, at him taking the main attraction away, so to speak. Brian had been telling me about his plans for me all week and work. He'd first thought of it at the pub when him and his friend and the bar manager had first done me.
"Oh this boy's famous," said the bar manager, "right little slut."
They reckoned they could have a really cool party if my current boyfriend could be persuaded to let me be like the main course. I wanted to please as many men as my current boyfriend wanted me to, not that I was actually asked. Even Brian talked about it to me more as a fait accompli than as an idea we could discuss.
"We could have you serving drinks," he said, "butt-naked, in a little collar, and you could go around sucking the guests off. We'd have a party room where you'd be group fucked and a private room where guys could take your for a little one-on-one play ... hey! They might even pay for it. Hmm, I need to get a proper dungeon fitted out."
He wanted it at his place so that he could maintain control over what happened and what happened to me. He wanted all the credit. There were lots of better places than Brian's semi-detached house with a downstairs and an upstairs and with all the ornaments and decorations of a gay man's home. I bet the bar manager would've put on a better do. As it was there weren't too many people and they felt awkward amongst the cutesy furnishings and the flowery curtains and the thick don't-spill-anything-on-it carpeting.
Brian had the right idea with the video to get everyone warmed up but didn't reckon on my current boyfriend getting cold feet and me being spirited away at the off by their biker friend.
"I'm glad you're taking him away," the biker had said as I followed my current boyfriend out of the pink bedroom. "For his sake."
"What were you doing with that fucking leather queen?" asked my current boyfriend as soon as we were outside the front door of Brian's house.
"Oh, just talking, Sir," I said.
"Talking."
We were still in Brian's front garden and the path to the road was shielded in high bushes.
"I need a slash," he said.
I knelt in front of him and he pissed his bitter piss into me and he let some of it miss my mouth. It splashed on my face and clothes.
"Guy's a fucking creep."
"Yes Sir. He is a fucking creep," I said with a laugh.
"Doesn't know what's good for you, does he?" He doesn't know what you are, does he?"
I think he's beginning to understand, I thought to myself.
"No Sir," I said. I knelt at his feet and started sobbing and licking his boots in a type of grateful abjection.
"What is it now?" he said with a pleased voice.
"Nothing, Sir. Thank you Sir."
"Don't be too hard on him, after all, from what I heard, I think he was just trying to help. He's got it into his head - I know - that you're this kind of pansy who's got mixed up with the wrong sort and la di da di da needs saving," he smirked.
"No he isn't. He's a creep."
"What?"
"He just wants to fuck me," I said. "It's just like everyone else. All he wants is to get out his cock."
"What?"
I was angry.
"All he wants is to get out his cock and stick in me one way or another." I ground my knuckles into the dirt and snivelled. My nose was running and my shirt was all wet and the heat from my anger was hot in my face. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I repeated, "That's all anybody wants."
"That's all you want you mean."
My current boyfriend slapped me round the head and started to walk off.
"Look at me," he said, "starting to have a conversation with my fucking slave. Whatever next?"
END - One thing I might do - Chapter 4 - gay authoritarian sex tale, by Simon Harper - sharper@inorbit.com - Please tell me what you think, especially if you like it ;-)