I knew my mom and dad were taking off for my dad's company picnic pretty early on Sunday morning and would be gone until early evening. That was why I had picked this particular week-end for Richie to spend the night.
Richie woke me up early that Sunday morning, around 6 a.m., shaking me gently and telling me he wanted to take a bath, by which he meant a shower. At home he took baths but when he was with me I made him take showers so I could mess with him more easily. He really did need to wash off the stench of our sexplay from the previous night. He stank bad and what had seemed so much like an aphrodisiac to me the night before now just disgusted me. I had smeared his body and face and hair with his cum load fresh from my raw hole and smeared his body and pillow with various stinks from our bodies, especially his asshole. Plus, both of us stank to high heaven of strong, stale, male sweat. The first thing I did was get up and open my windows so the room could air out.
I was still tired as hell and I grudgingly led him into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and told him to make it quick as I prepared to go back to bed. Richie just shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking at me like a scared little boy. When I told him again to hurry it up he sighed and said he was afraid to shower by himself and asked me if I'd get in with him. I figured it would just be simpler to take a quick shower with him now so I wouldn't have to bother with it later on. So I shucked off my sweatpants and made him get in the shower with me.
Richie kept talking too loud and I had to tell him to shut up a bunch of times, not wanting to wake my parents up before their alarm went off and have them wonder why we were taking a shower together so early on a Sunday morning.
By the time we were through Richie smelled much better. His pits still stank like stale sweat but that was because I didn't allow him to wash under his arms. I did make sure he cleaned out his asshole and washed his hair and face though, before I let him out of the tub.
My asshole felt like a semi-truck had careened up it, gone out of control, and then crashed and burned somewhere in my rectum. I assumed it would hurt the rest of the day. Now I knew how Richie must feel every time I fucked him. I laughed to myself about that, pleased with the knowledge that every time I plowed his ass over the past few years he must have hurt bad for days afterwards. Of course, my cock wasn't nearly as big as the retard's. I was only 12 years old when I'd started in on Richie 4 years back and my dick measured only 5" hard, but now at 16 it had reached nearly its adult size, about 7 3/4". Richie's cock was well over 9".
When I had first started fucking Richie I kept count of the number of times I did it to him. It was like keeping a score card. I finally stopped counting when it reached 50, but it must have been double that number by then, if not more. That thought always got me hard: I had cum in his ass probably more than 100 times. I wondered how much cum I had pumped into him over the years? Several cupfuls at least, I guessed.
Anyway, when we were through with our quick shower (more like a rinse-off for me), I told Richie I wanted to go back to sleep for awhile. He followed me back into my room and I threw myself on the bed, ready for 3 or 4 more hours of sleep before starting the day for reals. Richie just stood there staring at me, an imbecilic grin splitting his face like a cracked egg.
"What the fuck?" I hissed at him.
He just giggled and shifted his weight from foot to foot again. He was stark naked and the sight of him at that early hour did nothing except piss me off. Why had I suggested he spend the night? It would have been much simpler if I had just waited until later that day for him to fuck me and skipped the whole sleep-over business.
"Get your stupid ass in bed, retard, or go the fuck home!" I was fed up with having to deal with this freak. Like most 16 year-old boys, mornings were not my favorite time of day, anyway.
His giggling stopped fast and he looked whipped again, the same as always whenever I'd bark at him about something. He sat on the edge of the bed and started humming a little sing-song tune to himself. By now I was awake and furious with him for ruining my chance to sleep-in undisturbed. My mind was already thinking up ways to hurt him later on.
I asked him what he was doing and he turned to me and smiled that open-mouthed, retarded grin. Then he told me that he was hungry. I groaned and whacked him several times in the head with my pillow, not wanting to start the day quite yet. But he just kept humming and staring all around my room, taking in every detail with a devoted, adoring attention to everything that belonged to me. Richie worshipped me and I liked it.
Finally, I told him to get dressed and I'd make us breakfast. I knew my parents would wake up as soon as they heard us rattling around the kitchen, so I figured I'd make breakfast for them, too. Hopefully, it would speed up their departure for the picnic and I would have the whole morning and afternoon to goof off with Richie.
Knowing he'd be useless in the kitchen, I told Richie to sit at the table and shut up while I got breakfast ready. He asked me a thousand questions about what I was doing and my nerves were ready to snap. Not wanting to deal with him anymore at that moment, I slammed down the spatula I had been flipping fried eggs with, led him into the living room, pushed his ass down onto the sofa and switched on the television, flipping channels until I found some cartoons. Richie was only too happy to watch TV and I could hear him giggling and guffawing over the stupid antics of whatever it was he was watching.
By the time I got the table set my parents had woken up and my mom came into the kitchen, surprised to find me awake so early on Sunday morning. I just rolled my eyes at her and jerked my head towards the living room where Richie was still giggling away.
"He woke up early and now he's starving," I muttered.
My mom just smiled and walked quietly to the kitchen door and peered into the living room at Richie. She came back to the table and quietly said, "Awww," smiling like she thought Richie was adorable.
I just sighed heavily and told her he was too annoying to be nice to so early in the morning. My mom whispered that it had been my idea to invite him over and I needed to be kind and patient with him.
My dad came out of the bathroom shortly afterwards and my mom called Richie into the kitchen so we could all sit down at the table and eat breakfast.
The minutes passed painfully slowly as I tried not to watch Richie eat and hoped he wouldn't say anything embarrassing to my folks. I also hoped my parents wouldn't suggest that Richie and I accompany them on the picnic, because I knew Richie would want to go and I sure as fuck didn't. I knew there'd be no problem with saying no to the offer - should it come -- but I didn't want Richie obsessing about how much fun he was missing at the picnic while I tried to get him to concentrate on whatever games I came up with later on.
Much like the previous evening, my mom and dad were cheery and gentle with Richie and I remember thinking how horrified they'd be if they knew what I'd been doing to him for the past 4 years. They were completely oblivious and I intended on keeping it that way.
Finally, my dad told my mom that they'd better get moving or they'd be late. My mom offered to clean up but I quickly said that Richie and I would do it and not to worry about it. Stroking my hair, my mom kissed the top of my head and went to get dressed for the day. Richie stared at her in open-mouthed adoration as she kissed me, and my mom noticed his staring. She laughed softly and moved to Richie, kissing the top of his messy head as she left the room. Richie giggled and rocked back and forth in his chair, barely able to conceal his thrilled happiness. I wanted to punch him in the face just to make him cry.
Richie was useless at washing up so I told him to just go back into the living room and watch TV some more while I did all the work. By the time I was finished my parents were ready to leave and they told me they probably wouldn't be back until 6 or 7 that evening. My dad gave me some money to goof off with in case I decided to go somewhere later that day and then they split. The house got oddly still and the quiet seemed to spook Richie a bit. I laughed out loud when I noticed it, because I knew that as much as Richie worshipped me, I could easily terrify him as well.
All during breakfast I had plied Richie with juice and milk and coffee, trying to get him to drink as many fluids as I could. I knew he'd have to piss bad and that was how I planned on launching into the day's fun. I wasn't going to allow him to empty his bursting bladder until I wanted him to. I asked him if he wanted another cup of coffee or another glass of orange juice. He said no, so I told him he needed to take his vitamins now.
I poured him a big tumbler of water and handed him 2 benzedrine pills that my buddy Choke had given me. He swallowed them without a question. The bennies would amp him up and keep him energized for the whole morning, and I was curious to see what they'd do to him. I figured if he freaked out I would just send him back home and let his parents deal with him. I popped a couple of bennies, too. Choke had turned me on to them and I discovered that they made me hornier and meaner.
Richie asked me what we were going to do and I told him he should stick around and we could play. If he wanted to. I always gave him the option of saying no and going home but never once had Richie taken that option. I doubt that he even knew what I meant, but at least I had technically given him the choice. It was something of a ritual, I guess.
I told him to watch the TV while I made up my bed. Unlike most kids my age, I had always scrupulously made my bed up in the morning. I just liked things orderly and neat. I hated kids who were undisciplined and sloppy in their habits. My mom said I was fastidious (a word I had to look up in the dictionary); my dad said I was born for the military. That always made me feel proud, even though I had absolutely no desire to serve in the military because I despised everything I knew about democracy. Why would I want to defend it? Even at 16, I felt that our democratic society catered to the lowest common denominator and I hated Jews and Christians alike because they believed in peace and love and forgiveness and mercy and other shit that I just couldn't swallow. Like I said, I think I was born a fascist personality type.
As I changed the sheets and pillow cases and tidied up my room, I figured Richie must be feeling the effects of the bennies by now. I knew I was. I was sweating like a horse and feeling that malevolent thrill of knowing I had all day to torment the retard sitting in my living room.
As I was getting ready to join Richie I heard the toilet flush and I raced down the hall to the bathroom. Richie was just walking out of the bathroom, adjusting the elastic waistband of the shorts he was wearing. I shoved him back into the bathroom, batting the back of his head as I did it. Richie was startled and seemed pretty agitated, so I knew he was starting to feel the effect of the benzedrine.
"What the fuck did you just do?" I asked him, barking and bullying him into a corner.
"I peed, I had to pee, Dan," he stammered back at me as I continued to slap him around his head and face.
"Did I say you could piss in my toilet, fuckface?" I was feeling amped and ready to play hard.
"But I had to pee bad, Dan!"
"Too fucking bad, you worthless piece of shit! OK, that's it, you are not to piss again for the rest of the day. Got that? You are not allowed to piss anymore today unless I say so!"
"OK, Dan, I promise I won't pee again. That's OK. Don't hit me and yell at me no more, OK?" There was a strange expression in his normally vacant eyes. He could barely stop shifting his gaze around the room and I knew it was from the pills.
I told him to get his clothes off and lay down in the tub. He hated doing this because the coldness of the porcelain made him shiver. But I didn't give a shit what he did or didn't hate and kept badgering him until he did as I told him.
While he was climbing into the tub I was getting out of my clothes slowly, making sure Richie watched me. I stared at myself in the full-length mirrors on one wall, flexing my muscles and examining my naked body from every possible angle. I looked good, real good. I stood about 5'9", about half-a-foot taller than when I had first started messing with Richie. I weighed about 145 pounds and had a natural, nicely developed chest and arms for a 16 year-old kid. Dark brown hair ran down my forearms and covered my legs. A thin glory trail led to the always-pungent forest of my pubes. My cut dick was half-hard now and my hairy balls were as tight as the rest of me at that moment. I stroked my cock and then made it jump a few times right in front of Richie. I even spread my ass cheeks with my hands and bent over so he could get a good view of my asshole.
"You like my ass, don't you, retard?"
"OK, Dan, and it felt real good last night."
"What the fuck does that mean?" I was having fun fucking with his head. Everything he said I caught him up on, making him hesitate before answering me.
"I-I-I mean...I just mean you let me do it to you and it felt good, that's all, OK," he said, voice already starting to tremble. He was sitting up in the tub, hugging his hairy legs to his chest.
"Hell yeah, Veg, you fucking faggot, you got off good fucking my shithole, didn't you? You want to fuck it again?"
"OK, Dan, sure thing." He was totally unsure how to respond and I was loving every second of it. He was visibly shaking now. I was acting as harsh as I wanted with him today, not like usual when I'd more-or-less casually lead things along, always under the pretense of orders from the General. Even after all these years he still believed that bullshit.
"Why the fuck are you shaking, asswipe?"
"I dunno, Dan. I can't stop, I feel sort of funny."
"Yeah, and you look fucking hilarious, retard!" I busted out laughing and after a second or two Richie started laughing with me.
I stopped laughing immediately.
"What the fuck are you laughing at, you useless shit? Are you laughing at me, Veg?!"
Richie didn't know what to do but his laughter stopped like someone had switched him off and he just stared at me, trembling and rocking back and forth a bit as he sat shivering in the cold bathtub.
"ANSWER ME, YOU GODDAMN FUCKING RETARD!" I screamed it at him as loud as I could, making a fist and pulling my arm back like I was going to haul off and punch him in the face. I knew my screaming at him loud would shock the hell out of him and scare him even more. He started crying and I slapped him across the face and told him to shut up or I'd shoot him. Which reminded me of something I had been wanting to try out.
Richie sniffled and sobbed quietly, trying to get himself under control but not having much success. I knew the drugs were working on him.
I spun on my heel and stormed out of the bathroom and walked down the hall to my parents' bedroom. I could hear Richie calling out to me from the bathroom.
"I'm s-s-s-sorry, Dan. I forgot. I promise I won't l-l-laugh no more, Dan. I promise." I could hear him sobbing even more now and my dick was going crazy.
My dad kept a .22 caliber revolver in the night-stand and I got it out and made sure the chamber was empty, spinning it to make sure. When I came back to the bathroom I charged in fast, arm extended and aiming the revolver right at Richie's face. I scared the hell out of him and he gave a short, choked scream as I pressed the barrel hard against his forehead.
"Shut up RIGHT NOW or I swear to fucking Christ I'll blow your goddamn head off!" I got a look at myself in the mirror and I looked pretty fucking crazy. Really hot. My eyes were flashing and shiny from the bennies and I loved how I was feeling.
Richie kept gnawing his lip as he tried to force himself to keep quiet and stop crying. I knew he couldn't, really, but the more he tried the more amped I was getting from his terror. I wanted to pistol-whip him so bad. It was hard to resist.
I cocked the hammer and jammed the barrel under his chin.
"ONE MORE SOUND!...and I'll unload this whole fucking gun into your head, you hear me, RETARD?!" I was starting to really get into the fun now.
I shoved him hard into the corner of the tub as I uncocked the hammer. He crouched against the side of the tub. I started whistling a happy little tune quietly as I squatted and pushed my hairy ass out towards him.
"Sniff it!" I was using my Nazi voice. It just automatically happened.
I wasn't even looking at him but I heard him scurry quickly to my side of the tub and then felt his hot, rapid breath as he burrowed his nose into my hairy crack. I bore down and let a juicy fart rip right in his face. Richie gagged and I laughed so hard I could feel a turd start to make its exit out of my widening hole. I reached behind me and clasped his head hard to my ass as I forced the turd out with such force that I felt it plop against his face.
I was still laughing as I turned around to look at him, but when I saw what had happened I nearly pissed myself from laughing so fucking hard. Shit was hanging from his chin and his nose and lips were smeared with the stinking, brown mess. Most of the shit landed right between his tits. Richie was looking at me with a look of such humiliation and uncomprehending shock on his face that I gasped and giggled like a little boy on Christmas morning.
I told him I'd be right back and went into my room to get the Polaroid camera from my closet. When I got back, Richie was rubbing the back of his hand over his nose, trying to wipe my shit off but only smearing it across his cheek. I snapped a few photos from several different angles. It looked so fucking hilarious, so nasty and degrading. I knew my skinhead buddy would get a helluva laugh out of the photos if I decided to show them to him.
I needed to take a real dump anyway, so I stepped into the tub and pushed him backwards so he was leaning against it and held him there while I strained and took a major shit. I was cackling away like a hoodlum, totally turned on by the contempt I felt coursing through my blood. My dick was hard and this felt almost as good as shooting a load. I guess I was shooting a load actually, just from the flip side!
Richie was crying and gagging and choking. I think he even puked a little. I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the combined sounds. I felt totally transported by it, like soaring music and sex entwined.
Every time my guts contracted and I squeezed my sphincter another fat shit sausage plopped out and slopped over Richie's face and chest. I started pissing, too, all over his crotch and legs and feet, and the mingled stinks made the bathroom smell like an outhouse. Richie was writhing and whining under my ass and I held him down with all the pressure I could muster. Even so, he still kept struggling. He was pretty strong for a retard.
"You're a filthy Jew pig, Veg, and this is what Jew pigs like best: having some Nazi shit all over their fucking carcass. Say you love it, say you want to roll in my shit, motherfucker!"
Richie was shaking and half-whimpering, half-gagging, trying to get out of my grasp. The harder he struggled, the more covered in shit and piss he got. It was fucking hilarious. I kept yelling at him until he said it. It didn't take very long.
When I was through taking a dump I squatted even further down and used his hair to wipe my dirty ass on. He was sobbing by now and almost screaming. I put the revolver in his mouth and told him to either quit making so much noise or die.
He wasn't even hearing me, he was so upset, so I stood back up and chuckled at him, pointing and saying, "Ewww, Richie, you rolled in my poop!" I used his own stupid word for shit because I wanted him to relax and think we were still playing. I told him that this was all part of basic training for soldiers and he just had to take it like a real man.
After a few minutes of talking softly and joking with him he settled down. I even got the freak to laugh along with me, a 23 year-old, brain-damaged guy sitting there in the bathtub in a pool of my piss, smeared with my stinking 16 year-old bully shit and half-crazy with shock and the speediness of the bennies. I took a few photos and then told him I'd help him clean up.
Just as he started to stand up I turned the cold shower on full blast which knocked him back down onto his ass. He started shivering and trying to tell me that it was cold, too cold. I pretended I couldn't hear him and told him to lean back and let the nice water clean him off. After about 10 minutes (I timed it) of watching him grimace and cry, teeth chattering and his skin covered in goose bumps, I told him to stand up and rinse his backside off. I had to drag him up and he could barely turn around. He kept yelling that it was too cold, but he finally got so numb that he couldn't even speak any more.
Acting surprised, I asked him if he was cold and he nodded wildly. I turned the hot water on full blast so that the temperature got comfortable for a few moments. I kept testing the water and when I could definitely feel the heat I quickly turned the cold water off. Now the water was scalding hot and Richie jumped around in an Indian war dance as he screamed and yelped from the inescapable heat of the water. I knew it'd sting like hot lava from the reaction to the cold and that made my dick throb harder. But I knew I couldn't leave any visible marks on him and I was afraid the scalding hot water would blister him, so I just smacked him across the face hard one time and then turned the water off completely. Ignoring his discomfort, I casually handed him a towel after he got out of the tub. While he dried off I turned the shower on again, washing the last tell-tale signs of my dump down the drain, and asking him if he felt good and clean now. Richie just looked at me with hurt feelings written all over his homely-cute, scruffy mug. I laughed and told him not to be a big baby, that we were just playing. I asked him coaxingly if he still wanted to be my blood brother soldier and it took him a few seconds before he weakly nodded his fucked-up head.
When he got out of the tub he told me that he needed to pee and asked me if he could. Naturally I told him no, that real soldiers are trained so well that they can hold their piss all day and night, if ordered to. Richie's face got a wild, distracted look and I took his photo.
It was now almost 11 a.m. and we had been up since dawn. I asked him if he was hungry and at first he just shook his head as he awkwardly finished drying himself off. But as I continued softly whistling and not being aggro with him he softened up some and quietly murmured that he wanted a sandwich. I smiled and pinched his cheek so hard I left red fingerprints on it as he screwed up his face in pain.
"Sure thing, buddy, I'll make you lunch now, OK?" I was being sickly sweet with him and he believed me. What a fucking asshole this moron was.
Now that I had my new skinhead buddy to fuck around and have fun with I didn't really need Richie anymore. Truthfully, I was getting bored with him. It was all so easy, almost too easy to be much fun any longer. Again, my mind mulled over the idea of snuffing him, thinking up all sorts of unusual and fun ways of putting him out of his misery. But it always came back to the problem of getting caught. I knew I could make it look like an accident but I also knew that cops were pretty fucking clever when they needed to be and I didn't want the hassle of all the questioning and shit I'd have to put up with. Beyond that, there was no other reason I could think of not to kill him. But for now I let the idea go, still convinced it'd be too risky.
I had recently been fantasizing about telling my skinhead bro Choke about Richie and seeing if he'd be up for a little ultimate aggro fun with the retard. The idea that kept coming back to me was getting Choke to pull Richie into his truck and drive somewhere previously arranged where I'd be waiting, concealed from Richie's view. If he saw me I knew he'd ruin it somehow or other. What I really wanted was to see Richie's expression when a complete stranger started fucking with him, especially someone intimidating looking and capable of going into full Nazi mode. That would be priceless! From some of the conversations we'd had and some random comments Choke had made, I figured he'd be fine with beating the shit out of Richie and then stomping his brains out while I watched and jerked off. Afterwards, we'd just dump the body somewhere secluded and forget about it.
Choke had turned me on to drinking whiskey and I loved it. We had begun shoplifting a fifth of it almost everyday after school from liquor stores in the area. I loved the way it relaxed whatever inhibitions I had and made me feel like I could conquer the world and weed out the weaklings without a single shred of remorse. I also liked how it made me so physically relaxed that Choke could stuff my ass with his huge horse dick and plow away on me without making me wish he'd finish. We took turns on each other eventually, but at this point in our new friendship Choke would only fuck, never get fucked. That would come later in our time together. I remember wishing I had some whiskey just then.
Anyway, I led Richie into the living room and told him to sit and relax in front of the TV while I made him lunch. Richie sat there looking almost human with a sad-sack expression on his usually blank face. I knew he was feeling sorry for himself and it pissed me off for some reason.
I went into the kitchen and laid out some slices of bread and got the jar of peanut butter out. I spread a thick layer of it on 2 of the slices. I was feeling hungry myself, so I figured I'd make myself a sandwich, too. But I was really amped up and horny by now and I was leaking lots of precum as my mind came up with new dirty tricks to play on Richie.
I finished making my own sandwich and then started creating a special one for the retard. First I took one of the remaining bread slices and wiped my ass on it. A smear of shit from my slightly dirty asshole showed clearly on the soft, white bread and I snickered when I saw it and added a few more. Then I spread peanut butter over it and got ready to bust a quick nut. It only took me a couple of minutes to pump out 4 or 5 nice, white, creamy jets onto the peanut butter. It was my first nut of the day and it felt awesome. I sucked the last of my load off my fingers, then spread my nut over the glossy brown filling with the knife. Topping it all with another slice of bread, the sandwich was complete. I poured milk into a tall glass I had just hocked a huge spit wad into and then topped it off by pissing into it. I told Richie to come eat lunch.
I couldn't remember for sure but I was pretty certain that eating shit would make you helluv sick. I just hoped it didn't make him sick right away, because I wanted to goof with Richie for the rest of the afternoon. If he was puking or whatever he wouldn't be of any use to me. I decided to let him eat it anyway, just as an experiment to see what would happen. Plus, I had a raging hard-on while he ate it because it was so nasty. He didn't even change expressions while he chewed so I guess the peanut butter was flavorful enough to cover up the other tastes.
I made him drink the big glass of milk and piss, even though he kept telling me he had to pee bad. I told him as soon as he finished drinking it we could go out in the garage and play soldiers and I'd let him piss. He drained the glass and followed me out to the garage, mincing behind me because he had to piss so bad.
I switched the bright florescent overhead light on and the brightness made everything look crisp and clinical to me. Bennies made my vision seem sharper and cleaner every time I took them. There wasn't much floor space available because of the van but I knew our garage as well as I knew my bedroom. I knew that there was a crossbeam in the ceiling a foot or two in front of the van. I knew where every tool, every tape, every supply was in that fucking garage. It was like my laboratory.
As I walked towards the clear space I heard Richie give a little whining gasp and I turned around just in time to see his cock erupt with the first burst of his piss. I hurried over to where my mom kept the basket of clothespins and grabbed one of the spring-loaded ones, then hurried back to Richie who still stood there pissing like a horse onto the garage floor. I smacked his dick hard and his piss went flying everywhere, even splashing across me. His hot stream felt awesome on my skin and it sent a surge through me like an electric jolt.
I grabbed his dick and pulled his foreskin forward into a little nipple and clamped the clothespin onto it. He yelped when I did it and his piss dribbled out for a few seconds and then stopped. Richie started whining and saying he needed to pee more, begging me to let him finish. I told him he had to learn to control his body like real soldiers or the Nazis would cut his dick off. It didn't make any sense at all but it didn't need to. Richie believed everything I told him anyway so I barely even bothered anymore.
He brought his hand up to take the clothespin off and I punched him in the shoulder and told him he'd better not dare or he'd be sorry. He wagged his hand a few times and then put it behind his back in submission.
I walked over to where I'd stashed them and pulled out a cheap pair of handcuffs I had bought at the flea market. They were strong enough for my purposes and they locked with a key.
I told him to put both hands behind his back. He did it obediently and I slapped the cuffs on him and checked to make sure they were locked tight.
Then I grabbed a big coil of nylon rope and tossed it over the crossbeam in the ceiling and let most of it down to the floor. Richie was shuffling from foot to foot and whimpering because he had to piss. His noise was getting on my nerves so I let him piss in a bucket while I got set up. The sound of his piss pounding into the plastic bucket rattled in my ears as I finished pulling the coil of rope over the beam until the other end was just touching the ground.
As he finished pissing in the bucket I went and got a double plastic grocery bag from the barrel my dad kept them in and slipped it over Richie's head. He started freaking out and asking me what I was doing and was quickly working himself into tears. I ripped the bag off his head and just stared at him hatefully as I tore a length of duct tape off my handy roll and slapped it over his mouth. When I got the bag over his head again all I could hear was grunting and whimpering. Nice.
I took the dangling rope and tied it with a secure knot around Richie's throat and the plastic bag. I thought it made a fucking hot picture so I took a few Polaroids and set them aside for private-time some other day.
There was a small wooden crate, about 15" high, that I had placed in one corner of the garage and I brought it over to where Richie was standing and slammed it down in front of him. The sound startled him and I grabbed his arm and told him to step up. As his foot made contact with the box I placed it squarely under him so he could stand on it easily.
I pulled on the rope around Richie's neck until it was taut and tied it securely to a support pole. Now I had Richie incapacitated. If he stepped off the box he would hang himself.
More photos from several angles. I had tons of Polaroid film because I shoplifted it regularly, so I didn't have to worry about saving the film for spectacular shots only. I could take as many as I wanted, and I wanted lots of them.
I told Richie this was a test that the General commanded me to put him through as final proof of Richie's loyalty. He nodded and whimpered as he noisily blew air through his nostrils.
I clamped the clothespin back on his foreskin and told him he couldn't piss unless I allowed him to, just like before. Every time he nodded his head the plastic bag would rustle and it sounded fucking hilarious.
I stood back, leaned against the washing machine and lit a cigarette. This was awesome and I was feeling great, really heartless. My cock was hard and pumping out the precum like crazy. I couldn't decide what to do first, so I just grabbed the revolver because I liked how it felt in my hand and strolled over to him. The gun felt amazing, like a cold, lethal prick that killed when it came. I cocked the hammer as I pressed the barrel against the plastic bag, right between his eyes. I had to reach up to do it and I remember how great it looked to be staring up at my hand, jamming a gun in some fucked-up retard's face. I started jacking off with my free hand. It felt amazing, almost religious in a malevolent way.
Richie was shaking and having a bit of trouble keeping his balance on the box, even though he had plenty of standing space. I guess his balance just wasn't very good because of the brain damage. Plus the bag over his head probably didn't help. I warned him that if he fell off the box he'd hang himself. I started to run the gun barrel over his chest and then down to his genitals, poking and prodding hard in all the right places.
Then I went on to tell him a little story. I told him about how Hitler had the traitors who tried to blow him up executed. He had them hanged, but not with traditional nooses. He had them strung up with piano wire tied around their necks, hung from meat hooks. That's what I had done to him, I told Richie. If he fell off the box, the rope would strangle him while it sliced through his neck and eventually his head would rip off. I was prodding his head with the gun every once in a while and giving the box little kicks just so he'd wobble more all the while I talked. I could hear him crying and the wet sound of snot coming out of his nose under the plastic bag.
Then I quietly told him not to worry, that I loved being his blood brother soldier buddy and I could hear him audibly relax. I said some more soothing, friendly bullshit about how all this was just pretend, that we were just playing like always, and I could see his whole body relax. His balance even got steadier. I loved fucking with his head like this, terrorizing him one second, reassuring him the next. Then starting all over again, harder, meaner, and nastier than before. That's how I worked. It came naturally; it was just my style, I guess.
My eye caught a new device on top of the dryer and I went and got it all ready. It was a toy my Dad had bought me a few years previously, a roughly 3' length of ribbed plastic tubing, about 3" in diameter, large enough to stick your hard dick in comfortably snug (I found that out the first night I had it.) When you swung it around in circles it made a droning, humming sound that you could alter by how fast you swung it. It was totally flexible, too. Anyway, I shoved one end of it up under the bag on Richie's head and then wrapped duct tape all around the bag and Richie's throat, making it leak-proof. I knew his air supply would go quickly so I made a couple of little slits in the top of the bag so he could still suck in air. It would just be harder for him to breathe but he wouldn't suffocate. As a final touch, I gathered up most of the slack in the bag and clothes-pinned it in the back so the bag was fairly tight to his head.
I hauled out a 6' ladder and opened it up next to Richie and climbed up it until I was standing above him. I shoved my dick into the other end of the tube and let loose with a good, satisfying piss. It looked and sounded amazing as the bottom of the plastic bag started to swell and fill with hot urine. Richie's head was recoiling and thrashing around so I bat him on the back of the head several times and told him to stop it or I'd push him off the crate. I could hear him crying under the tape and plastic bag and I told him to stop that, too, or I would walk across the street and shoot his mother in the face. That shut him up pretty much, at least reducing his sobbing to an intermittent snivel.
I decided I might as well finish what I'd started so I climbed down and got the bucket he had pissed in earlier. I had made sure to give him a bucket with a pouring lip on the edge just for this purpose. I climbed back up the ladder and poured his piss down the tube hole and heard him whimper as the bag filled up some more. You could see the yellow of our piss through the milky white of the plastic and it looked fucking hot and nasty to me. I got back down and snapped a few more photos.
Richie looked like a real live torture victim, really fucking awesome. Here's the full picture: Naked, hands cuffed behind his back, balancing on a wooden crate. A plastic bag over his head, taped around his neck with silver-gray duct tape, a long, white plastic tube dangling from it. The bottom third of the bag bulged with our combined piss, just about halfway up the duct tape over his mouth. A taut, yellow nylon rope tied in a secure knot around his neck. And finally, that fucking massive horse cock and the sack of hairy balls hanging below it. I couldn't help but stroke my dick and I wanted to cum so bad.
But first I wanted to see his meaty cock get hard. I started licking his balls and nosing up under them, lapping and taking deep breaths of the hairy boulevard that led to his ripe asshole. Richie hadn't shit yet that morning so I figured he'd need to go sometime while we were playing. For now though, his ass smelled amazing. I came back up and sucked his huge dick until I could feel it thicken and swell in my throat. I was reaching up, roughly running my sweaty hands all over his body, mauling his chest and twisting his nipples. Richie was writhing and squealing under my hands. I couldn't tell if it was in fear or pleasure and I didn't care. To me it was all the same anyway.
I finished by jacking him off till he was rock hard and then brought a smaller crate behind him and stepped up on it. It was just the right height for me to fuck him in the ass. I grabbed the back of the plastic bag and yanked his head back hard so I could hiss into his ear.
"I'm gonna fuck you to death now, Veg. I'm gonna fuck you till I make your insides rupture and your blood squirts out of your ass while I keep fucking you..."
I could hear him taking huge breaths through his nose as he freaked out.
This was further than I had ever taken things with him before, more orchestrated. My mind was racing with a million ideas at once. I felt like a god. I fucking loved benzedrine.
I pushed the head of my prick hard against his asshole and shoved until it disappeared into his hole. Richie's body was spasming and bucking wildly as I pushed my unlubed cock deep into his guts. His moans and muffled shrieks were amping me up like I'd rarely felt before. As soon as I was in to the hilt I started fucking him as hard as I could. The sound of his crate rocking back and forth drove me crazy. My hands were all over his body, yanking on his dick and squeezing his fat balls until he was squealing like a gagged pig.
I kept trying to make him lean forward, trying to force him to bend over, even though I knew he couldn't because of the rope tied around his neck. I knew, but I didn't care. I wanted him in whatever position was going to allow me to fuck him the way it felt best to me, even if it meant he would temporarily strangle. Truthfully, the fact that he was in so much discomfort just made it better for me.
It didn't take long before I was ready to blast my hot jizz up his ass, adding the wet, squishing noises of my approaching climax to the symphony of sex sounds already echoing in the garage.
As soon as I knew I was going to start shooting I began kicking the box he was standing on until he was teetering on one corner of the crate. I laughed as I started shooting and gave the box one good, final kick. Richie's body weight made him jerk heavily downward an inch at most, then he dangled in mid-air, twisting and thrashing as he slowly strangled with me still fucking him, trying to hold his body still long enough for me to finish emptying my nuts. As soon as I was done I jumped off my crate, raced to the camera and snapped another Polaroid. Before it was even out of the camera I had replaced the crate under him so that he could just rest his weight on the edge of the crate. I could hear him breathing with difficulty and whining in a loud, high-pitched hum under the tape I had slapped over his mouth.
As soon as I knew he wasn't hurt bad I stood behind him and examined his asshole. It looked greasy and the edges were slick with my milky sperm. I remember thinking my cum looked like frosting and that cracked me up. I shoved a finger up his ass and wiggled it around, feeling the hot slickness of my cum and the heat of his insides. When I withdrew my finger it was streaked with sperm and a little bit of shit and I gave it a quick sniff before wiping it on his back. My cock was foul with it too, and I walked around in front of him so I could wipe my dick all over his hairy calves and his big feet with their long, hairy toes.
I wanted to see him cum one of his spectacular, spraying orgasms and I told him I would now jack him off until he came as I removed the clothespin from his foreskin. I cooed soothingly at him, telling him how good it felt to know I had such a cool buddy for a friend. He was still breathing with difficulty through his nose but his moaning and whimpering finally stopped as I beat him off with strong, smooth strokes. I could feel his prick swell in my fist for an instant before he let loose with a huge, strong stream of piss.
My first instinct was to rage at him but the longer I watched his piss shoot out the hotter it seemed to me to be jacking him off while he pissed. He must have needed to piss as badly as he'd told me earlier, because it was coming out so hard and fast that his stream was hitting the clothes dryer about 4 feet in front of him. As he finished, I flicked my tongue against the sensitive head of his prick as I slid the foreskin back and forth over it. I rubbed it against my smooth cheeks and forehead, breathing my hot breath in short bursts all over it, getting him so worked up with the need to orgasm that he started whining again, but this time clearly in rapture over the pleasure I was giving him. I picked up the pace of my jacking and Richie's knees began to buckle and I knew he was ready to shoot.
Rearing back some so I could feel his sperm drench me when it came spraying out of his cock, I jerked him off mercilessly until I heard him scream under the tape and the first wave of hot cum came flying at me like a hail of bullets. His sperm spattered all over my face and hair and chest, great globs of it slamming against my out-stretched tongue and all around my lips and mouth. It was like someone had turned a sprinkler on and I was in its direct path. All I could see and smell and taste was sperm, strong and pungent and unending. I was gasping and nearly screaming, myself.
As I sucked out the final wads of his cum, Richie began what looked like a little stomping dance on the box. I asked him questions, trying to guess what he wanted.
"What, Veg? What do you want?" I was speaking quietly, soothingly, enjoying every second of this mockery of friendship.
All of a sudden he farted and I could smell what he was trying to tell me. Richie needed to take a shit. I laughed like a hyena when I figured it out and told him if he had to take a dump then he'd have to do it where he was standing. The plastic bag rustled loudly as he shook his head back and forth. I knew he was dreading the humiliation of shitting in front of me like this. Richie got prissy about shitting unless he was on a toilet.
"Too fucking bad, Veg, you just have to shit here if you need to. I am not letting you down from this box until you pass all the tests."
Without his knowing it, I placed the piss bucket on the floor behind him, right under his ass. If he did shit it would fall into the bucket and it'd be easier to clean up afterwards.
He was whimpering and thrashing around and I started pressing on his stomach right below his belly button. I knew applying pressure in that particular area would make him have to shit all the more desperately. He stiffened and made some choking, sobbing sounds and then I saw his shit dropping out, splattering the interior of the bucket.
I started making grossed-out sounds, snickering and catcalling and whooping it up, trying to make the experience as awful and humiliating for him as possible. I was calling him a filthy pig, a nasty, disgusting animal who couldn't even hold his shit. I told him I was going to tell everyone in the neighborhood that he had shit himself while we were playing. I told him that everyone would make fun of him from now on, me included, because he was an embarrassing disappointment to me. I knew that would make him feel worse than anything else I was telling him. It worked beautifully. Richie was obviously going through emotional hell and I was relishing my role as his tormenting devil.
Shit streaked the backs of his legs and I gave him a detailed description of how foul he was and how badly he stank. His shit had been pretty liquid, probably because of the rough fuck I had just given him and the fear that was racing through his body. When he was through emptying his bowels I pulled the ladder back beside him, mounted it and poured the soupy mess in the bucket down the tube and into the bag over his head. I could hear him snuffling and his chest was heaving. I had to pee again by now so when the bucket was emptied I stuck my dick in and took another good piss.
By now, the bag was close to half full. I pushed his head forward so the contents would slop over his nose and go up his nostrils. I even grabbed the top of the bag and roughly shook his head all around, making sure the swill would get all over his face and hair. I was having the time of my life abusing him this way. It felt better and more powerful than all the other games I had ever played with Richie.
When I looked at the clock next it was nearly 2 o'clock. I still had lots of time left to goof off with Richie but I was getting bored. So I decided to dismantle this experiment, get us both cleaned up with a real shower, and then just let things roll along naturally.
I told him what we were going to do next but it seemed like all the life and vitality had gone out of Richie. Like I had crushed whatever was left of his humanity. My dick started filling with blood and I was half-hard the whole time I worked on getting things back to normal in the garage. I felt proud of myself, like I had broken Richie's spirit and ruined something that was important to him - his belief in our friendship. The thrill of destruction, the joy of tearing something apart at the seams, the inexpressible pleasure of being an agent of ruin - that was what I felt and it felt fucking glorious.
When I got him down from the box I could barely stand being near him because he smelled so bad. I have never found any sort of physical sexual thrill in shit and I still don't. The only charge I got from shit was the level of humiliation attached to it.
Still wearing the plastic bag over his head, I led him out to the backyard and made him stand in the gravel patch where my dog used to shit. I made him bend forward so his head was pointed downward and when I got the tape unwrapped from around his throat I got the bag off and saw the damage.
First of all, he looked fucking hilarious. I had my camera with me and I made him stand up straight so I could take a few photos. His face was slimy with piss and smears of his shit dotted his face and I could even see pieces of crap stuck in his hair. I guess he had instinctively shut his eyes when I was shaking his head around because they looked fairly clear and he wasn't blinking or complaining about the swill getting into his eyes. That was a minor disappointment but one I was willing to let go. The filth was trickling down his chest and he reeked like an open sewer. That helped made up for the fact that I hadn't blinded him with his own toxic filth.
But the best part was the expression on his face. Richie was now clearly terrified of me and didn't trust me at all. I laughed right in his face and told him he was a fucking moron for letting me do this to him. He started to cry soundlessly, so great was his grief and shock. It was priceless, even better than I had expected. I had to sit down because I was laughing so hard. Every fresh sob that wracked his entire body made me erupt in a fresh paroxysm of glee.
I hauled the hose over to where he stood helplessly, shaking and now moaning over his torment and debasement, and sprayed him off until he didn't stink anymore. He didn't even say anything, he just stood there and let me shoot him with the powerful stream of icy cold water, even when I aimed it square at his face and ears and hair.
I knew I had to say or do something to patch things up between us because it was only mid-afternoon. He was mine until at least 5 o'clock. I told him to follow me onto the lawn but he kept his distance from me. I flopped down on the grass and felt the sharp prickle of the lawn tingle against my naked skin. Richie just stood there, looking at me with a hurt, frightened expression. I told him to sit down and relax because it was still early and he had a few more tests to complete before I was through with him. He sat where he was, about 10 feet away from me.
"What's wrong, Veg?" I asked him, all sweet and kid-like, innocent of any malevolent intent.
He didn't say anything at first, just stared at the lawn as he ripped tufts of grass out of the soil.
"Why did you make me do that, Dan? It scared me bad and it hurt a lot," he drawled at me softly.
"What?" I was playing innocent.
"You know," he whispered, ashamed and broken.
"Listen, retard, real soldiers have stuff like that happen to them all the fucking time. If you want to be a real soldier you have to get used to it. It's all for your own good. I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt you on purpose, Veg, would I?"
Richie just shrugged and still wouldn't look at me.
"Aw, come here, Veg," I said in my most convincingly sweet voice.
Still he wouldn't budge and I waited for him to soften. But it wasn't happening.
I sighed like my feelings were hurt and pretended like I was starting to cry. I could see him start to cave in as I faked sobbing into my hands and he got up and took a few steps closer to me. I couldn't believe he could be this fucking stupid. But he was.
"OK, Dan, don't cry, I'm not really mad at you no more, Dan. I just got scared. If real soldiers do it then it's OK I guess. Don't cry no more, Dan, please don't, it's OK." I could hear him starting to tear up on my behalf. I was trying so hard not to guffaw behind my hands.
By now he was standing over me, so I looked up at him, squinting into the sun with my best friendly-16-year-old kid expression crinkling up my face into a beseeching smile. I reached up and grabbed his big, soft dick and tugged at it gently a few times like I wanted him to sit next to me.
He flopped down on the grass beside me and put his arm around my shoulder. When he lifted his arm to wrap it around me I could smell a hot blast of his B.O. waft right in my face and my cock gave a little lurch. I knew the smell of his sweat as well as I knew my own. I was learning fast that each guy has his own specific natural sweat stink. It's a subtle difference, but noticeable if you have a good sense of smell. Richie's stink made my dick hard as a fucking rock, always had.
He noticed the jerk my cock made and giggled like usual. I knew I had convinced him that everything was OK and I could cautiously proceed with my next moves.
It felt bizarre to have the retard comforting me, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, patting my arm and telling me it was OK. Again, the irony of the situation made me snicker. I had come close to hanging him while I raped and tortured him less than a half-hour ago and here he was comforting me and telling me he wasn't mad at me. Priceless.
I kicked back, happy and spent from the exhilaration of the past couple of hours. Richie alternated between shell-shock and his usual blankness, but still pretty agitated from the drugs and he kept playing with the lawn, happily content with the mindless activity.
It didn't take long for me to get horny again. But I wanted a snack first and went inside to get us each a bowl of ice-cream. I didn't do anything to Richie's cuz I figured he deserved a treat and I needed a break from the feverish plans my brain had been cooking up.
When I got back outside Richie was lolling back on his elbows, staring into space with his mouth hanging open. His fat cock looked huge and bloated between his thighs where it rested heavily. He got up on his knees when he saw me with the big bowls of ice cream, a goofy grin accompanied by his childish, braying laugh. I recall feeling towards him like I would a favorite animal or pet at that moment. He never failed to please me. Even when he didn't want to.
He hungrily slurped up the vanilla ice cream, creamy little bits of it sticking to the scruffy hair around his mouth and chin. Even though he was now 23 years old, Richie's facial hair still looked liked the scruff you'd see on a teenage boy, fairly delicate and wispy. It made him look sexy, I thought.
I leaned back on my elbows while he sat back on his haunches. I couldn't stop looking at his ass and I started fondling it and running my hand between his legs so I could stroke his fat, hairy balls. Richie was humming with the double pleasure of the stroking and the ice cream. I told him to lean forward a bit so I could play with his asshole.
Without a word except for the perpetual giggle, he leaned forward a bit and I slid a finger up his ass. He stiffened a tiny bit but took it with no trouble. Richie was used to getting all sorts of stuff shoved up his ass, and a finger probably felt like nothing much at all. I guess I had trained him to be what's called a 'talented bottom' in queer-speak. I was being almost tender with him as I enjoyed my ice cream, eyeing Richie's hairy asshole with a greedy possessiveness.
I finished my ice cream before Richie, which surprised me. He was savoring his instead of devouring it like he did all other foods I had seen him consume. Ice cream was an almost sensual, sexual thing for him. I watched him, fascinated, sitting up beside him now so I could reach around and jack his horse cock while I fingered his asshole simultaneously. Richie looked the happiest I had ever seen him, totally carried away by the pleasure he was feeling throughout his body and mouth.
I was grinning and giggling myself now, totally turned-on by the nasty juxtaposition of activities and images right in front of me. A big, over-grown kid enjoying a huge bowl of ice cream while being jacked-off and finger-fucked, a look of heavenly bliss blurring his goofy, young face.
I kept in on him until he was through with his ice cream. By that time, Richie was breathing heavily and moaning softly from how good I was making him feel. His cock was engorged and stiff in my fist and his shithole was relaxed and sloppy-wet. I wanted to get fucked bad.
Without a word, I squatted in front of Richie, displaying my ass to him in an animalistic mating gesture. I reached behind me and grunted a few times as I spread my ass open so he could see my asshole better, moist and tight and brownish-pink. I glanced behind me to see what effect it was having on him. Richie's eyes were glued to my shithole as I bore down a bit, making my hole distend and pucker like a little set of lips going "ooooo"; there was a hungry glimmer in his eyes. I realized then that sex didn't need any words at all to communicate specific wants and needs.
I could tell that he instinctually understood what I wanted from him. He grunted a few times in reply as he got up onto his knees and held his huge prick close to my gaping hole, stroking his cock a few times to get it to its maximum hardness. I was pushing my ass up and out towards him, wriggling it back and forth, enticing him with the beauty of my dark-haired fuckhole.
Richie petted the back of my head like a dog and stroked my shoulders and back. It felt amazing. I huffed and snorted quietly as I spat into my hand and reached behind me to wrap my fist around his cock, slicking it up with my saliva. He hummed and burbled as my hand slid over the tender flesh of his prick and I felt him lean forward and press the fat mushroom head into my hole.
It still hurt like hell, but different from the night before - more of a strong, throbbing ache than a sharp, stabbing shock. I leaned forward onto my bent arms so my face and chest were touching the lawn, my ass pushed up and out. Richie put his big hands on my hips and pulled me into his groin, forcing his giant cock up my shitter. He was in to the hilt in seconds.
The moment he was all the way in he started bucking into me with short, sharp thrusts, feeling his way to the speed and rhythm that would allow him to get the best fuck possible. We didn't need to keep quiet this time, and I gasped at Richie that it was OK if he made noise. He stayed silent as he continued fucking me, but I couldn't. I was panting and groaning from the mighty fuck he was giving me, saying all sorts of nasty, dirty stuff as he pounded away.
"Yeah, fuck me good, 'tard, give it to me good..."
Then it was like a cork popped out of him and he let loose with a stream of hot, filthy language, nastier than I had ever heard him talk before.
"OK, Dan, OK, you like how I fuck your ass, don't you? You like my dick up your fucking shithole, you like it, I know you like it. You like it when you feel my balls slam against your fucking ass, Nazi! I'm an American, I'm a real soldier and I love fucking Nazis because you deserve it! I'm gonna shoot my sperms all over your fucking face and in your mouth, you cocksucking Nazi bastard!"
"Hell yeah, you fucking retarded piece of shit, fuck me harder...you worthless American faggot, fuck my Nazi asshole..."
"I can smell your shit in your ass, Nazi, I can stick my dick in your mouth if I want to!"
He pushed me off his cock and I sprawled for a few seconds, stunned and unable to make myself move. Richie gave my ass a push and I toppled onto my side. He stood up fast and told me to get on my knees. I did, unable to resist his command because it was so startling to hear him talk tough.
As soon as I was on my knees he grabbed my chin and batted his massive prick, fresh from my asshole, all over my face and head. I was gasping and jacking off as he forced his cock deep into my mouth and barked at me to suck it.
My first reaction was to spit it out and puke, because I could taste my ass on his dick. But the impulse passed in seconds, replaced with a nasty hunger for the combined flavors of horse dick and ass. I bobbed up and down on his cock, trying to swallow as much of it as I could. After a few minutes of this he pushed me backwards onto my back and then covered me with his sweating, stinking, heaving body as he slid his dick back inside my ravenous hole. Oh, Richie was a good fucker, all right. This was something he could actually do well.
He had himself propped up on his hands as he banged away on me. Sweat was beading on his forehead and dripping onto my face. His eyes were closed and he had that same pained expression as the previous night. Richie looked fucking hot as hell when he was screwing, primal and brutal and stupid.
I was cupping his hairy ass in my hands, digging my fingers into the meaty mounds of his cheeks, probing his hole with my fingers as he fucked me fast and hard. He started hissing his breath in and out through his clenched teeth, spit bubbling out and running down the corners of his opened lips. Then he'd form his lips into a silent "oh" and grimace as the intensity of what he was feeling washed over him. I pushed him off me and his cock slid out of my hole with a wet pop as his eyes flew open, startled by the sudden change in sensation.
"Stand up and shoot your cum over me, Veg," I said, jerking off a mile a minute.
He stumbled to his feet and stood at my side, beating his monster meat so fast his fist was a blur. He reached behind himself and shoved his finger up his ass and fucked himself while he continued beating off. He looked awesome framed against the bright blue sky, naked and dirty and stinking. I could tell he was super close to shooting because his legs began to tremble. I recognized this sign from the countless times I had seen Richie cum.
He began to make the strangest sound I had ever heard a human make, something between a growl and a whine combined, as he plunged his finger harder into his asshole. It only lasted a few moments and then turned into a bellow like an angry bull in heat. His knees bent and he arched back a bit as the first spraying blast of sperm shot so hard and far out of his prick that it looked like it went sailing up to touch heaven before it crashed back down to earth, splattering over my face and throat. Rope after rope of cum erupted out of his cock, raining down hot globs of jizz that covered me from my chest to my shins. It seemed to go on forever. My whole existence was about hard dick and being drenched in reeking sperm.
At last his orgasm subsided and he almost fell over backwards. I told him to lie on me and he quickly covered my body with his. The second we made contact our bodies were glued together, slippery with his massive load as we slipped and slid against each other. I could feel myself getting ready to shoot and I moaned out that I was going to cum.
Richie wrapped his hand around my dick and jacked me off till I came, a great, shuddering series of convulsions wracking my body as I pumped out my load into his hand. Before I was even through shooting, Richie brought his hand up to his mouth and wiped my cum all over his face, even snaking his tongue between his splayed fingers where the sperm had webbed. When he was done he shoved his hand back down between us and I could feel wetness being smeared across my belly. Again, he brought his hand up, but this time he shoved it in my face, wiping our combined cum all over my lips and forehead.
I was laughing and gasping still, aware for the first time how brilliantly I had trained Richie. He was a grade-A pig. Fuck yeah.
I pushed him off me and he rolled onto his back beside me. I could barely catch my breath but after a few moments I was back to normal.
I looked over at him. His eyes were closed and there was a simple-minded smile on his lips. I sat up and looked at the two of us, bodies and faces shiny with sperm. I prodded him and told him it was time to go take a shower.
My urges were played out by now, so our shower was quick but thorough. Richie seemed almost giddy with happiness and energy and it was infectious. I slapped him around a little bit but nothing too major. I just wanted to get clean fast so I could smoke some pot I had hidden in the attic of our garage. I wanted to get stoned badly because I was still feeling a bit jittery from the bennies.
When we were through I told him to get dressed and we'd go back out to the garage. I told him I had a special treat to show him, something I had never shown him before. At first he looked at me worriedly, like he was going to get hurt again. I laughed at him and told him there were no more tests today, that this was a surprise that wouldn't hurt him at all. His face lit up when I told him that, like he had just been told he could have all the candy in the world.
Richie got dressed in his ratty old shorts and a Batman t-shirt and I put on cut-offs and a wife-beater. Both of us were barefoot, had been all day. I led him out to the garage and told him about the place I had made for myself in the attic as I stuck my dad's revolver in the back of my cut-offs.
My family called it 'the attic' but it was really just a large platform that ran the length of one end of the garage. We stored all sorts of stuff up there, old furniture, Christmas decorations, boxes and boxes of household junk and my old toys from when I was a little boy. You couldn't stand up straight once you were up there, but you could sit in a chair comfortably. The attic was maybe 11 feet above the floor of the garage.
I leaned one of my dad's taller ladders against the edge of the attic floor and climbed up first. When I got up there I looked down at Richie and told him to climb on up. He seemed to find this vaguely terrifying, imagining god-knows-what he'd find up there, but he climbed the ladder carefully, one rung at a time. I knew he didn't like dark places or spaces where he felt trapped. But I figured he'd be OK as soon as he got up because you could see the whole garage clearly once you had ascended.
My family rarely went up into the attic and so I had made myself a private, little lair behind a wall of boxes I had arranged. There were 2 chairs in my space, an old recliner and an easy chair. I had even rolled out a small rug to make it feel more snug. A few stacks of books and binders hid the stash of porno mags I kept under them. I also hid my drugs and booze up there.
Most evenings after dinner I would climb up, sprawl back in the recliner and smoke a few bowls of weed or chug from the bottles of whiskey I had shoplifted with Choke. I actually did homework up there as well as getting fucked up, but most of the time I went up there just to get wasted or to jerk off in peace and private. I could always have done any of these activities in my bedroom, but I loved this space because it felt more secret. I guess in a way it was like my own tree fort.
I showed Richie where to go and as we moved behind the wall of boxes his expression changed and relaxed. He must have thought this was some new 'test' I had tricked him into. In a way he was right, but honestly, that hadn't been my original intention. I just wanted to get high, simple as that.
I flopped into the recliner and Richie flopped (just like I had done) into the easy chair. I reached under the recliner where I kept my stash and pulled it out and started to fill my pipe with pot. Richie was staring at me like he couldn't figure out what I was doing. So I told him. He got a serious look on his face and told me I shouldn't be taking drugs because they would kill me or make me go crazy. I laughed in his face and asked him if he wanted to smoke out with me. His eyes widened, but all he did was slowly shake his head no.
I fired the pipe up, took a deep draw and held it in until hardly any smoke came out when I exhaled. When the bowl was cashed I refilled it and finished that one off, too. That was really all I needed for now, but it was putting a nice, mellow buzz in my head and I decided to try having a conversation with Richie.
"Hey, Veg. You ever fucked a girl?"
He blushed and continued looking around him but didn't answer me. I could tell he was embarrassed.
"You haven't, hunh?" I said it kind of accusatory.
"Well, I haven't ever fucked a girl in her pussy," he said, quietly.
"You ever fucked one some other way?"
Richie just looked at me like he didn't understand what I meant.
"You ever fucked one up the ass like we do it, or anything like that?"
"Well, I don't have a girlfriend and I don't know any girls right now, Dan."
"Yeah, but you NEVER fucked a girl at all? You ever been with a real live naked girl?"
"Nah, not yet anyways," he answered, chuckling like he was ashamed.
"You fucking retard, you're 23 fucking years old, you probably aren't ever gonna fuck a bitch, faggot," I laughed at him. "I fucking turned you queer, retard!" I laughed maliciously and he grinned at me, not getting it at all.
"Hey, Richie, I had a dream about you last night, dude," I told him, but I was making it up. I had started feeling darkly frisky.
Richie's eyes widened like I was about to tell him a fairy tale or some stupid shit.
"Yeah, it was great. We were playing and I was supposed to have this gun pointed at your head while you sucked on my dick." I pulled the revolver out from behind me.
"Then when I nutted I shot you in the fucking head and your brains splattered on the wall behind you. You fell over dead and I immediately got a boner again and I jacked off until I was close to cumming. Then I got down on my knees and shoved my dick in the hole in your head and fucked your mangled brains 'til I spewed a huge fucking load deep inside them."
I could feel my eyes glimmering at him in the dusky light of the attic. The most comical expression came over his face as I talked. At first he looked intrigued and excited as I began but by the time I had finished he looked frightened as hell. He was terrified of me again.
"Oh yeah, something else..."
"Yeah, Dan?" Richie whispered.
"I killed the General. Shot him in the heart. I had to cuz I found out he was a traitor. So now I'm in charge; I give the orders." I grinned at him like a jackal. Richie's eyes were huge as moons and I could see the tears begin to spill over and slide down his scruffy cheeks.
I motioned him over to me with the revolver. He seemed to be mortally afraid of it. He just sat there, staring, transfixed. I cocked the hammer and gestured more authoritatively for him to move, fast. Richie slid out of his chair and virtually crawled over to my recliner. I had unzipped my cut-offs and hauled out my cock, stroking it as I told him the little story about my dream. When he reached me I held out my dick for him to suck.
His terror was now pretty intense. He had begun to tremble and hot tears were springing out of his eyes and spilling down his face. Why this particular little game frightened him so badly I didn't know. But it was thrilling to me and the more excited I got, the deeper into the dark fantasy I descended. I felt amazing, like a god possessed by a devil.
As he took my cock in his wet mouth I stroked his hair with one hand while I held the revolver to his temple with the other.
"That's good, Richie, suck it like it's the end, like you'll never suck it again. Cuz, see, my dreams always come true. So that means I'm going to pull the trigger and blow your fucking brains out as soon as you make me start cumming." I was giggling like this was an exquisite joke, which, to me, it was.
Richie couldn't go on sucking because he was now openly crying his heart out.
"Oh, Dan, please don't hurt me. I'll be good, I'll do anything you want, just please, please, don't hurt me, don't shoot me. I love you, Dan, you're my blood brother soldier buddy..."
I cackled at him and clunked the gun barrel down on top of his head. It couldn't have hurt that bad but the second I hit him he collapsed at my feet, sobbing and moaning.
"Shut up and start sucking, or I swear to fucking Jew-pig Christ that I'll just fucking blow your head off RIGHT NOW!"
I grabbed his hair in my hand and yanked him up hard. He screamed from the sudden shock of pain and I backhanded him across the face. Blood started running out of his nose from the blow and the second I saw it I knew that this was what I had been waiting four years to see - Richie bleeding. I had always been careful not to wound or mark him because I didn't want anyone asking questions. But now it was like I just didn't care anymore. I'd deal with creating convincing lies and excuses later.
Shaking and whimpering, he sucked on my dick again but there was no pleasure in it. He was too upset to give a decent blow-job but by then it didn't matter. I was getting my thrills from the situation and his fear and the sight of his blood. I could almost smell it in the air and my nostrils were flaring, trying to suck in the scent of rich, red blood deep into my lungs.
"One more secret, Richie. I'm a Nazi spy. I always have been. I work for Hitler, Veg. I never was your friend, ever. It was all part of the plot." I was on a roll. No matter that Hitler had been dead for close to 40 years. The retard believed anything I told him like a fucking moron.
He was slobbering all over my crotch, tears and spit, snot and blood combined. I started groaning and writhing in my chair, pretending like I was starting to cum as I shoved the gun barrel right between his eyes and yelled, "Pow!"
Then something happened. At first it looked like he was nodding in agreement about something but the nodding kept getting faster and stronger. My dick had slipped out of his mouth but his head kept shaking. I started snickering because he looked so fucking lame and gross and then leaned back in my recliner, the gun dangling in my hand.
Richie's eyes rolled back in his head and foamy spit was collecting at the corners of his lips. His whole body was seizing up and he fell backwards heavily as he thrashed around at my feet.
That's when I recalled his father telling me to be aware that sometimes Richie had seizures. That had been four years ago though, when we had first started playing around. His dad told me the seizures hadn't occurred in years, but if Richie ever got overly stressed or excited that it might happen again.
Not once had Richie ever shown signs of a seizure when I fucked around with him so I had forgotten all about it as the years passed.
I tried to remember what his father had told me I should do if Richie ever had a seizure when I was with him. I couldn't recall what he'd said, so I just skipped trying to remember and enjoyed the show.
The platform of the attic wasn't all that wide, and Richie was getting dangerously near the edge. He kept thrashing around, making choking, rasping noises deep in his throat. First he'd roll near the drop, then he'd roll back towards me. Every time he rolled away from me it seemed like he got closer to the edge.
I put my bare foot out to stop him from rolling into my legs cuz I didn't want him touching me all fucked up like he was. The second my foot made contact with him I felt an enormous sense of bliss and release sweep over me. His body was pressing against my bare foot, trying to roll into my legs.
I stood up and pushed him a little bit forward with my foot, then a little harder and further forward, and then finally gave him a good shove with my foot and looked over the edge of the attic as Richie went plummeting to the hard pavement floor.
There was a sickening crunch as he landed and his face screwed up in a silent agony, but he continued twitching and seizing up as he lay there. I hurried down to the Polaroid camera where it sat on the dryer, snatched it, climbed fast back up the ladder, and snapped off a few photos of the retard from my perch in my lair.
My cock was still hanging out of my opened cut-offs and it was now hard as a fucking rock and oozing out strings of precum. I felt hornier than I had all day. But I knew I had to end this right now and go tell his family that there was something wrong with Richie.
I hurriedly cleaned up all evidence of what we'd been doing in the garage that day which fortunately didn't take long. I always cleaned up pretty thoroughly behind me in all activities. Like I said, I like neatness. Then I just had to jack off and shoot to ease the torment in my balls and my head. I wanted badly to shoot my fucking load all over Richie but I knew I couldn't risk anybody asking about what the goopy stuff on him was, so I just came in my hand and licked it up. My cum tasted awesome, like always.
I already said that I have always been a good actor and now I really put on a convincing show. I started hyperventilating on purpose so I'd be winded and dizzy and pale and then forced myself to cry. Next I yelled loudly a few times and then hurled the garage door open and ran yelling and sobbing at the top of my lungs across the street to Richie's house.
His parents were both home and his dad came running back to my garage with me while his mom called the ambulance. Richie had stopped thrashing by then and I guess the seizure had passed.
All I did was sort of hysterically tell his parents that we had been exploring in my attic and that Richie started acted funny all of a sudden and then had a seizure. I told them I had turned just in time to see him lose his balance and start to fall off the attic. I added that I had lunged forward to grab his arm but my fingers were only able to brush his arm before he went over the edge. I was a mess, the picture of panic and concern.
Richie's dad tried to comfort me, and when the ambulance got there I started crying again, not hysterically but worried and self-blaming. It worked like a fucking charm. Neighbors even brought me over some home-made food a few hours later.
So yeah, the ambulance came and blah blah blah. Richie had a broken hip and a concussion and some cracked ribs. I couldn't believe he was such a brittle little fucker.
He was in the hospital a long time and he walked with a permanent limp after that. I guess he forgot what had been happening before his seizure because I never heard anything more about that day. Honestly, I didn't give it a moment's worry, anyway. I just figured I'd get away with it.
That was the very last time I ever messed around with the retard. I now spent all my free time with my skinhead buddy, Choke. But that first sight of Richie's blood set the gold standard for the fun and games Choke and I got up to over the next couple of years.
By the way, the day after Richie's 'accident' I shaved my head and started hanging out with Choke's skinhead crew at high school. I had been reborn into a whole new world.