Special Assistant.
Part 7
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com
This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again remind you that I have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and have included no gestures toward common sense either. These are all new stories. Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.
Roddy's approach to sex was both gentle and aggressive. His huge cock stretched me wide open, but I didn't think it was going to rip me in half. Sometimes the sensations were so strong, I almost forgot to breathe. He noticed that and pulled back, easing the stress. Roddy liked and enjoyed me. He enjoyed the deep thrusts which made me dizzy, but he did that sparingly.
Wedged between a relentless sucker and an equally relentless fucker, my options were limited to reacting to Bernard and Roddy's demands. I was uncomfortable for a minute or two until Roddy's cock hit something new. His cock went way deeper than before and I lost any desire to control or resist.
I was a sex toy, pure and simple, although, pure might not be the correct word. It was odd, but when I surrendered and let them do anything they wanted, my own pleasure reached unbelievable levels. Unable to think, I mindlessly responded to every thrust and movement. My entire body became an extension of my cock and prostate.
At some time during the night I woke to find Admiral Billy in my ass with Herbie sucking me. Gill was on his back next to me with Roddy deep fucking him. I was uneasy about how much I was enjoying this, but Gill liked it too. He wasn't at all shy or embarrassed about letting you know just how much he enjoyed it. I felt better.
Billy rammed me hard and I zoned out for a while. When I next realized what was happening, Marty was in my ass. He was pumping like a mad man. Roddy, Billy and Marty were all huge, but the experience with each was entirely different. I enjoyed them all, but for different reasons. The Admiral was on the bed, whimpering as Roddy fucked him to the moon and back. The Admiral was a man's man, but I could see every movement of Roddy's cock caused a reaction in the Admiral's body.
I don't know if it's possible to fuck your brain, but that's the way it looked with Roddy and the Admiral. You could sense Roddy's donkey dong making direct contact with Billy's nervous system. The moans, twitches and shivers were all involuntary, as if Roddy's organ was communicating his affection and Billy's body was responding.
While I thought about Roddy and Billy, Marty's cock either bloated to one size bigger or my ass tightened up and a wave of deep sexual desire swept over me. Marty calmed down and the thrusts became individualized. My ass was trying to grab his cock and feel it. I don't know how long this went on, but eventually Marty and I climaxed together.
While I didn't sleep much, I woke up feeling rested. It must have been the deep anal massage that relaxed me. Marty cooked a big breakfast that hit the spot. Everyone felt good.
"There must be something in the mountain air," Admiral Billy commented. "I got carried away last night. I haven't bottomed for anyone in years."
"It must be like riding a bike," Roddy said. "You took it really well."
"Better than me?" I asked in mock shock. They all looked at me in surprise, then realized I was joking.
"Apples and oranges!" Roddy replied. "Billy liked it too."
"I did enjoy it," Billy admitted. "Being on the bottom always seems odd to me."
"You're use to being in charge and in control," Marty said. "Jason's never been in charge, so it's easier for him to go with the flow. You want to run things, but you can't do that with a monster like Roddy's in your ass."
"You may be right about that," Billy replied.
"The first time I bottomed was to be polite rather than out of desire," Gill said. "I didn't mind it, but I couldn't figure out what all the fuss was about."
"What exactly is a polite fuck?" Bernard asked.
"Well, I'd been a top for many years and had several long term friends," Gill explained. "One wanted to top. I just seemed right after all those years of shooting my load into his ass, not to give him the chance. It just seemed like fair play."
"You sure like it now," Marty said. "What made for the change?"
"It all changed when a friend hit the right spot, "Gill said. "He was a big boy and his cock must have hit the spot that turns my inhibitions off and turns the rest of me on. Catching can be more intense than pitching, but it's more variable depending on the cock."
"Roddy's cock did it to me last night," Billy admitted. "It's hard for me to let go, but he found my on button. It was good to relax and take it."
"Everyone here is safe. No `lose lips sink ships' problems with my friends," Marty murmured. "That's why you're all here. It's going to be a relaxing weekend in the mountains. You can let your hair down, or get your cock up."
"I thought you were plotting the over through of the Empire," Bernard said, only half jokingly.
"Actually, I was going to tell you I have the plan of the Death Star and I need for you to get it to the Rebels," Marty said.
"Until this very moment, I hadn't recognized your resemblance to Carrie Fisher!" Herbie exclaimed. "You must have done something to your hair!" Everyone laughed.
"I'm not planning to over through the Empire, but I do want to restore the Republic," Marty said, seriously. "For the first time, I'm afraid for its future."
"Do you think it's that serious?" I asked.
"I do," he replied.
"It pains me to say it, but I feel the same way," Herbie said. "The President isn't a perceptive man. I'm not sure he knows, or has considered the consequences of what he's doing. He seems to think the war is a great success. Is he delusional?"
"The possibility of mental illness does rear its ugly head form time to time," Bernard said. "But it's hard to tell if it's related to mental illness or piss-poor education."
"I think no one has considered another option," Gill interjected. "We all know the administration is anti government. Is it possible they are right wing anarchists? Is their intention to destroy and discredit the government, so it can't be fixed?"
"Some anarchist groups felt you should destroy government and not worry about the organizational form that might replace it," Herbie said. "They felt anything had to be better than what now exists."
"I think there's an extreme survival of the fittest view. They think if they render the government ineffectual, the billionaires will rule the day. The working and middle classes will be wiped out. We will compete with foreign competitors by impoverishing the middle class, so desperate they will work for dirt low wages."
"They have a vison of government as outsourced to private corporations," Gill said. They will turn over Medicare to insurance companies and hospital corporations. They will turn over Social Security to Wall Street Brokers. They will sell the armed forces to Haliburton and Boeing. Everything will make a pretty penny for the investor class."
"I think that's an extreme view," Admiral Billy said.
"Let me ask you one question?" Gill continued. "What portion of the armed forces are mercenary now?"
"None," the Admiral replied.
"Look at the war. How much of the occupation is done by Contractors? What was once done by the Seabee's, or the Corps of Engineers is now done by private, for hire, corporations," Gill continued. "Rather straightforward mercenary corporations also do much of the security. I think they call them consultants."
"The occupation isn't a tribute to the success of that sort of thinking," Billy said.
"I think you're wrong about that," Bernard said. "If the occupation were intended to create a stable country, it is a dismal failure. If the occupation was intended to generate corporate profits, it's wildly successful."
"Some thought they waged war to control a constant supply of inexpensive oil," Herbie remarked. "Considering the results, it's clear the effect was to destabilize supplies and inflate oil profits."
"Follow the money is Deep Throat's rule." Marty said. "There is money everywhere in Washington and throughout the administration. They don't even bother hiding it any more."
"How in hell do family values fit in?" I asked. "I voted for Mother and apple pie."
"Damn you're young," Marty said. "Mostly I think it's a combination of smoke screen and stunning lack of self awareness. The President thinks he's a self-made man. The number of strings pulled to get him into good schools and the millions of dollars it took to bail him out of failed business ventures is remarkable."
"He's a Connecticut born, Harvard and Yale educated red neck. That is an impressive achievement. He's a born-again Christian who has never found an opportunity to be merciful and has a warm spot for executions." Marty explained. "He's a proponent for human rights in foreign countries and a proponent for torture chambers in American military prisons."
"That not his fault," I interjected. "He didn't know about that."
"I'm afraid you're wrong about that, Jason," Admiral Billy said. "Unless the military has changed in the five years since I left, it's a top down organization. The Secretary of Defense is a control freak. Do you think underlings get to create new rules for interrogation on their own? He's fired, or forced out a slew of generals and admirals because they wouldn't conform. You think some reservists from West Virginia get to do anything they want?"
"That makes sense, but I don't like it," I said. The conversation died down. "I guess our happy hooker, Randall, fits into the White House well, doesn't he?"
Marty laughed. `I hadn't looked at it that way, but it does fit. We have a family values and anti gay White House with some action on the side," Marty said.
"By helping Randall, they're helping a small business," Bernard said with a smile. "It's the oldest profession after all. They're outsourcing love. "
"I wonder if Randall is an independent contractor, or a wholly owned subsidiary?" I asked. "He could be a great help to Haliburton." At this point the conversation degenerated into wild speculations about who would benefit most by ownership of a whore in the White House. After breakfast we went on a hike to the top of the mountain.
The house sat on the side of Silverback Mountain. I assumed the cottage's name was derived from Marty, the massive gorilla like man who owned the house. Most of his friends were just as Big.
"I feel like a chimpanzee in a tribe of Gorillas," I said to Gill as we took a rest break on the side of the mountain. "They're all famous men. I worked in the White House news room for a year and a half. I've never brought coffee to men as important as Marty, Billy or Herbie."
"Don't worry about that," Gill said. "These men have real achievements, both as thinkers and as doers. They don't need to prove themselves and they don't need to impress. You're young and pleasant, and that's enough."
"The sex is good, but I'm a bit . . . ," I said.
Gill interrupted me before I could find the right word. "No one here is a user. They like to play, but not use. You're here for the same reason."
"What do you mean?"
"You like sex for what it is, not for what it can do for you," Gill explained. "I've known several of them for years. Pretty boys don't attract them. I will say they tend to top. They are all big men. Marty noted your abilities to handle horse cocks." I must have blushed. Gill leaned close to me and whispered. "Don't be embarrassed. You and I share the same skill."
"Roddy's my friend and lover. He's told me how good it is to know someone who can take his cock and not complain," Gill said. "When you're well hung, it's good to have someone who can enjoy it and not just admire it."
We resumed our hike to the top of Silverback. At the summit, the pale granite outcrop of bare rock explained the name. The stone shimmered like silver in the sun. The view was wonderful. The sky was pure blue, since we were above the summertime haze. Gill, the environmentalist pointed out the yellow-brownish tinge of some of the haze.
I admired the way he discussed smog. He was clear and precise, but also provided alternatives and qualifications. He didn't say power plants in the Ohio Valley created the pollution. He said there was a good likelihood they produced it.
"I know some men who think the pollution is natural," Herbie said.
"That is a minority view," Gill said. "Let's just say, if you were a betting man, I wouldn't advise putting too much money on that horse. We've had considerable success in cleaning up rivers and the air. London did it in the 1950s. It's hard to solve a problem if you don't admit it exists."
Admiral Billy was behind me when he slipped on a moss covered rock. He fell and I broke his fall. Fortunately he was fine; I wasn't. They got Billy up and dusted off, but when I tried to get my leg gave way. Gill and Roddy were hikers and knew a lot about bad legs. They agreed I had a twisted ankle, and nothing was broken.
Roddy offered to carry me down the rest of the way. "You can do that?" I asked. I'm 160-170 pounds.
Roddy looked puzzled I even considered he would have a problem with me. "The only problem is balance," he said. "I'll take it slow and you don't need to worry." He picked me up and we worked out way down. The other men were well ahead of us and we had a chance to talk.
"You were really good last night," Roddy said. "You didn't need to be so nice."
"I think you could tell I liked it." I replied.
He chuckled. "I noticed. Your ass stayed tight all night. It felt like a cock ring. I stayed hard even after I shot off. Usually, it get soft."
"You shot off?"
"Shit, I shot off three times," Roddy answered. "I enjoyed it, but Billy loved it. Billy says cum's a great lube. Sometimes the first time you play with a guy, he tense. You'll like it more tonight. I promise. "