Thai Boy

"Our boy has already come twice today. Two big loads of creamy boy juice. Isn't that right, Prasang?"

Prasang could not answer because he was wrestling with Martin's tongue down his throat. "RRMF...MMF!"

Martin tugged backward on Prasang's collar, forcing him to open his mouth wider and take him in all the way. His other hand had the boy's big, flaccid cock in his grip.

When Martin at last let up, Prasang had to gasp to catch his breath.

"Y-yes, master," he panted. "I came two times today already. MMF!"

Now Gary wanted his turn. He pulled Prasang's face toward him and their lips locked together, forcing the boy to make more muffled, gagging sounds as his tongue pushed in deep.

While Martin continued stroking his cock, Gary pulled down on three of the clothespins attached to his balls, making him heave and squirm as they made out. "RRMF!" His face turned red as Gary gagged him.

This had been going on for a good twenty minutes now. Poor Prasang was helplessly suspended between the two older Australian men who were ravenous for his delicious young body and could not get enough.

His legs were spread wide across their laps and he had to clutch the backs of their beach chairs to keep himself upright. His bare buns struggled and bobbed up and down between them, balanced precariously in midair with nothing to rest on.

I had been observing all of this with quiet fascination, occasionally taking my phone out to snap photos in the lantern light.

Prasang, with his muscular build and beautiful face, could probably have been a model or done TV commercials. Yet here he was, forced to serve and satisfy these two men who could have easily been his father and weren't anywhere close to his league. Neither, for that matter, was I.

Prasang moaned and gasped, his chest heaving and starting to shine with sweat during this strange and intense workout.

"Oh, now that is a shame," said Martin, ruddy in the face and trying to catch his own breath. "We would have loved to have seen him shoot."

Martin kept his hand around the struggling boy's tool, sliding the foreskin up and down to reveal the shiny purple cockhead.

The piss slit was so large that Gary decided to stick the tip of his pinky finger inside it and wiggle it around as they kissed. Prasang was already sore and protested through his locked lips.

"Well, he's a strong young bloke," Martin said. "Look, his cock's going hard again already."

"Hmm," I thought, stroking my chin. "We don't want to disappoint your new masters, do we, Prasang? What do you gents think? Would you like to see him come again?"

Martin lit up. "Oh yes, definitely! It's only fair as we missed it the first two times, isn't it?"

Prasang's eyes widened in alarm. "MMF-UMF." He tried to pull away from Gary, but Gary simply could not get enough and seized the back of his hair, holding his mouth hostage.

"And what say you, Master Gary," I asked, "Would you like Prasang to shoot his load for you?"

Gary at last released him and Prasang gasped hard, desperate to get some air in his lungs. The older man caressed his hair while the tip of his finger continued to probe the head of his cock.

"Nothing would please me more," Gary said, smiling at Prasang's dismay.

Obedient as Prasang was, he was shocked and bewildered at what we were saying.

For the past three weeks I had been using and abusing his body on a daily basis and I knew he was capable of coming multiple times within a short period. But that, of course, was in the beginning when I hadn't put him through anything as intense as what had happened today.

"Master, but...but, AH!" As Martin stroked him, Gary pushed still deeper into his piss slit, pinching the cockhead with his other hand to force the lips open.

I continued as if I hadn't heard him. "And would you guys prefer a little, spent burst or a big, steaming bucket?"

"Oh, big, steaming bucket, definitely," Martin said, "We'd love to take some home to Australia with us. A little taste of Thailand." He caressed Prasang's face, which was quickly going pale. "I expect to see nothing less than a river of your healthy Thai semen. Is that clear, Prasang?"

Martin squeezed Prasang's shaft, having gotten it semi-hard again, which made the blood rush up to the head where Gary wiggled his finger around inside.

"Well, there you have it, Prasang, you want to make your masters happy don't you?"

"Master..." he pleaded to me with his eyes. I knew what he wanted to say but didn't dare, especially in the presence of these older men he barely knew.

"Very well," I said, annoyed at his defeatist attitude, "Let's take a vote. All in favor of seeing Prasang come another bucketful, raise your hands."

Martin, Gary, and I all shot our hands into the air.

"And all opposed...?"

Prasang was silent, sitting there naked and helplessly pinned between his two captors.

"Oh, well, Prasang, looks like it's three against one. I'm afraid you lose. That means I want your big Thai cock hard and throbbing as it's ever been. I want you to fill one of these gentlemen's empty bottles of Victoria Bitter to the top. Is that clear?"

Prasang slumped. He looked helpless and afraid.

His buns, so sore from the many lashes and spankings we'd given him, were unable to touch the ground. Spread eagled as he was, I could see his pink hole, clenching and unclenching in the shadowy indentation between his thighs.

I saw him make a real effort to fight back his tears, but they came anyway, streaming down his handsome face.

Throughout the entirety of this trip, I had seen him shed a few tears of pain and humiliation, but he'd taken everything I had to throw at him, absorbing it without complaint.

This was the first time I'd ever seen him break down.

I was paying him more than he could ever have dreamed for the "experience" I asked him to provide. He took the job seriously and had more than exceeded my expectations.

Watching him now, it dawned on me that he was terrified of letting me down. He genuinely did not believe he could come a third time and did not want me to be displeased.

I came around behind him and leaned in, kissing and licking at his tears as they flowed. They were warm and salty on my tongue.

Martin and Gary let up on him a bit, as well. They patted his shoulders and caressed the delicate skin of his inner thighs. "There, there. You're alright, mate."

"Prasang," I said into his ear, "You want to please your masters, don't you?"

"I do, master, I do!" He cried. "I want to please you, master. Please, believe me!"

I shushed him gently, caressing his trembling chest and shoulders.

I lifted his chin so that his streaming eyes met mine.

"I want you to repeat after me. `I am a good boyfriend and my master is proud of me.'"

Prasang looked at me for a second before his face fell and he broke down again. He shook his head back and forth like a dog in a muzzle. "No, no, master, no!"

"Stop crying," I said with more authority in my voice.

Prasang did his level best to compose himself, sucking the mucous back up into his nose.

"That's good," I said, cupping my hand under his jaw more firmly. "Now look me in the eye and say what I told you to say."

Prasang swallowed his grief down in one hard gulp and began. "I-I'm a good boyfriend...and my master is proud of me," he sniffled.

There was no conviction in his voice. "Say it two more times and I want you to say it so you believe it."

Prasang recited the words twice more as I told him to. When he finished the second time, a smile played at the edges of his mouth and it was clear he felt a little better.

"Now I want you to say this," keeping one hand under his chin, I reached down and found his spread, suspended hole. He grunted and flinched in surprise as I started rubbing two fingers over this most intimate part of his body. "`I don't need to worry because my master is going to help me get hard and come.' Repeat that."

The muscle clenched and unclenched under my caress. He drew in his breath and heaved again, though this time there was something underneath the sorrow. A moan.

His limp cock twitched in Martin's hand.

"I don't need to worry because... because my master is going to help me get hard and come..."

"That's it, good boy, say it again, Prasang."

Before long he was taking in deep, slow breaths. His cock was growing bigger as Martin stroked. I watched his eyes, satisfied when they began to glaze over with pleasure.

Prasang parted his lips and wetted them with the blade of his light pink tongue. Whenever a boy does that, it's a sign he's enjoying what he's feeling. He breathed in and sighed out the words, "I don't need to worry because my master is going to help me get hard and come."

"Good boy, that's my boy," I brushed my lips against his ear as I said it. I now began a light circular motion on the smoother than smooth skin of his hole.

At the end of the day, men and boys are all the same. If you want to train one to be your sex slave, you have to understand how to manipulate his body, through pleasure as well as through pain.

If I have learned anything from the boys I've trained, whether gay or straight, it's that their holes are the infallible gateway to genuine arousal.

Prasang moaned and purred gently. I increased the circular motion around his opening, tickling lightly now and then with the tip of my finger.

I felt his anal muscles loosen beneath me and open like a flower. He was responding to my touch and ready to accept entry.

His cock continued growing, snaking upward in Martin's grip.

I enveloped him in a kiss. Not a rape kiss a la Martin and Gary. It was deep, but sensual, and Prasang glided his own hot tongue over mine.

At the same time, my finger entered his hole. It was still moist from taking my thumb earlier and it slid in easily. He pulsated and clenched around it, though not as a means of resistance. His secret pink mouth was hungry and trying to coax me in further.

Despite his state of discomfort and all the painful stimuli inflicting his body, I was actually succeeding in pushing the right buttons and getting him aroused.

After a little while, I separated myself from him and withdrew my finger. There was a lot of work to be done in order to work him up to the big orgasm I promised his two new masters.

"Ready, boy?" I said, caressing his face. "Ready to come again big and hard?"

The tears had dried now, but he still looked fearful of the task that lay ahead. "I-I think so, sir..."

"Good!" I gave his face a light slap. "OOF," he said, more in surprise than pain.

"Let's get to it then!"

As Martin and Gary continued to rove his body and play with his cock, I went to my bag and found the bottle of oil.

I sat myself down in the sand directly behind Prasang, my nose inches from his muscular, tight bubble butt.

I watched it thrust and struggle, momentarily hypnotized. Prasang's quest to find a comfortable position for his stinging red buns was endless and completely futile, though from where I was sitting it was unbelievably erotic and getting me rock hard.

I pressed my face against one bun and then the other to test their warmth. His spanked flesh was so hot I nearly broke a sweat being close to it.

"Relax now, Prasang," I said, "I need to rim you to get you hard."

I slid my thumbs in between the cheeks and parted, exposing his hole. It quivered and winked at me as though in recognition and pleaded for more attention.

I drew in my breath and pressed my hot, wet tongue to up against it. "OH...OHHHH" Prasang moaned.

I licked and sucked greedily. I flicked my tongue rapidly back and forth like a cat drinking milk.

I did a combination of all three movements: Licking, sucking, and flicking with my tongue. When I felt him open himself up to me again, I clasped both his legs and pushed my face deeper in.

I locked myself to his hole like it was the mouth of my most intimate lover. I could have gone on for hours that way.

"UUUUH...OH...OOH, man rusuk di mak!" Went Prasang, slipping into his native language.

It wasn't easy, but at last I pulled away to inspect my handiwork. His hole had gotten big and spongy under my skillful attention.

I took the bottle of oil and drizzled it over my index finger until it was slick and shiny. After a little bit more tickling and teasing of the engorged flesh, I slid my finger inside of him.

Prasang let out an almost comical moan of gratitude as I fed him the very thing I had gotten him hungry for. There was no resistance whatsoever as I slid in all the way up to the knuckle.

Balanced between the chairs, Prasang moved up and down with my finger as it pressed against his prostate.

When I had my finger up him as far as it would go, I went in for the coup de gras. I got up on my knees and slid the blade of my tongue up and down the open crack of his ass. I licked the engorged pink flesh around his hole even as it took in my finger.

"OH...OOOOOHH!" Prasang moaned, overwhelmed by the feeling, "Ai, xo thirak chi!"

"How's he looking up there, fellas?" I asked Martin and Gary.

They had been in charge of his cock this whole time. Their fingers were interlaced, sliding up and down his shaft as a single entity.

Sadly, despite my finger and tongue skills, Gary was unimpressed.

"You've made a valiant effort, sure enough, Jim, but I'm afraid our young friend here remains at half mast. Just too tired, I reckon."

I leaned over and observed the situation myself. Indeed, Prasang's dick was big and probably nearly there, but it had a rubbery quality about it, not stiff like it should have been.

There was, of course, a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. Prasang's cock was sore and spent. Even at nearly full arousal, you could see it was inflamed with painful red streaks running through the shaft.

Besides, pleasurable as my mouth and finger had been for his hole, the pleasure still had to fight against the pain: The clothespins, his spanked ass.

Lastly, there was the fact that Prasang was doing this for money and money alone. He was not a natural masochist in the same way I was a natural sadist, which meant the pain worked against rather than for his arousal.

I sighed. "Your new masters aren't very impressed with you, Prasang. That reflects on me as a master, too. I think we're going to have to take things to the next level."

I looked around, wondering what to try next when my eye fell on the fruit tray Martin and Gary had been sharing with us.

One of the bananas the bartender had given them was, to say the least, formidable. I blinked, not believing my eyes at first. It had been lying under some of the other fruit we were force feeding Prasang and I hadn't noticed it before.

A devilish shudder went down my spin and my cock stirred.

I tapped Gary on the shoulder and gestured to the banana. He picked it up by the stem and dangled it above him. It was even bigger than I realized. From where I sat, it appeared to be about ten inches long, its diameter just a centimeter or two short of a cucumber's. It was not the typical yellow of a cavendish, but lime green. It ran moist with juice from other fruit.

"My, my, but would you get a load of this beauty. How could we not have thought of it before, Martin?"

Martin adjusted his glasses and inspected it. "That's no banana, that's some kind of plantain hybrid, though why the man would give us one of those I have no idea. He must have some sixth sense, understood it might come in handy for us this evening."

Gary lined it up against Prasang's (almost) hard cock and whistled, impressed. The two were almost the same size, with Prasang still needed to do a little growing.

"Oh yes," Martin nodded back at me, "I think this'll do the trick. Just what the doctor ordered."

Prasang's eyes bulged at the sight of the plantain. I was amused as it dawned on him what we were planning to do.

Up to then, he had had, at most, two fingers in his ass (Gamon and I double finger fucked him back at Sexy Guy, which made him spurt beautifully). He had never taken anything even close to this size before.

The poor boy began his pitiful, stumbling protests again.

"W-wait, master, please, I can get hard! I'm almost there, really! I can (GULP) I can make myself big and hard for you!"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Prasang," I said. I rubbed over his tattooed back and moved my finger soothingly in his hole. "We need to get you hard and my best efforts aren't working. We're going to have to do something extreme."

Eyeing the mutant plantain in Gary's hand, Prasang started trembling all over. He was having an actual physical reaction to his fear of this thing. I couldn't entirely blame him.

"What's wrong, Prasang?" I slid my finger out of him, stood up and wrapped my arms around his chest. I rested my chin on his shoulder. The warmth of his quivering body felt good in the cool night air. "Tell me. Talk to your master. Why are you so scared right now?"

His chest heaved beneath me. I could sense the tears coming again. "Please...please, don't put that inside me, master. It-it's so big, sir. I'll get hard for you. I'll come big for you. Please..."

"But Prasang," I said, reaching down and stroking his cock, which was falling more and more limp by the second, "You said before you couldn't come again, remember? And I tried to help you but you still couldn't get hard..."

I caressed his cock sympathetically as he trembled. His teeth started to chatter against each other. "You see, Prasang, you can't even do it now. But I want you to get hard and you want to do whatever please your master, don't you?"

His tears came for the second time. "Please don't, master," he wept, "Please, don't put that in me..."

I wiped his hot tears with my thumb, then inserted it into his mouth. "Suck on this nice and slowly, Prasang." He did as I said, sucking tenderly even as new tears rolled down his face.

"Remember our agreement, Prasang?" I said into his ear. I flicked one of the clothespins in his left nipple upward a few times. "Remember what you told me? You said you'd submit completely to my will, to anything I would ask you to do, no matter what it was. Remember that?"

He did not respond, only continued to suck miserably at my thumb. He knew me well enough to know my mind was made up about this and his fate was sealed.

I wiped more tears from his face and had him suck them away. "Remember those two lines I taught you earlier? I want you to say them again now."

I pulled my finger out so he could speak. He shook his head weakly.

"Say it, Prasang."

"I'm a good boyfriend and my master is proud of me..."

"That's right, Prasang. You're a good boy. A very good boy and you make your master proud." I gave him a kiss on the cheek where I had struck him earlier. "And the other line?"

"Please, master..."

"Say it!" I was growing impatient with his sulking now.

He drew air in his full breath and recited. "I don't need to worry because my master is going to...to help me get hard and come."

"That's right, Prasang, you just leave it all to me. It's not going to be as bad as you think. We won't start with the banana, we're going to work our way up to it, understand? You've already had two fingers inside of you and this banana is only three fingers at the most, so we'll start with that."

The banana/plantain was, without question, thicker than three fingers, but I didn't want Prasang to know that. He'd find out soon enough.

I sat back down and applied oil to my index, middle, and ring fingers. I bunched the three of them together into a curved claw, emulating the shape of the fruit, and pressed them to his hole. "Deep breaths, Prasang. We've already got your anal muscles nice and loose so they'll go in easier. Remember to push against me when I enter you."

Prasang started to breathe and my three oily fingers slid up into him.

The sensation was immediate and so intense that Prasang lifted his pelvis upward. "Ah...AH!"

"Keep your buns still, boy. What did I tell you? Go down, not up!"

He whimpered at my sudden show of anger and pushed his ass downward, taking my fingers in further.

"That's it, Prasang. Sit on it. Take it all the way in. Good boy. Now bounce a little. Get used to the feeling of it inside you."

Hands clenching tightly to the beach chairs and jaw locked in place, he began to move himself up and down, keeping his breathing steady. His oiled up anus felt wonderfully tight and smooth around my digits.

Now Martin decided to join in. "Here," he said, taking the plantain from Gary. He weighed it in his hand, impressed. "Open your mouth, lad. It'll seem easier if you have it in this end first."

I remained silent. This would not have been my suggested route forward. There was the risk of it being too much for Prasang. However, I was not about to question Martin as he was now one of his masters, too, and could do with him what he wished.

Prasang opened his mouth and Martin placed the plantain on his tongue. He positioned his other hand on the back of the boy's head, clutching his longish hair. "Suck it nice and slow, Prasang, just like you'd suck a lolly."

Prasang did as he was told, moving his head up and down about a quarter of the way over the long, hard fruit.

After a minute or two, he had found a nice rhythm between the two sources of stimuli. His lips sliding up and down over the plantain, his hole sliding over my fingers.

"There, you see now, Prasang? It's not so very big is it?" Martin said.

"Nah, mah-thur," he responded.

"Good, now let's take it up a notch." Martin pushed the banana further into Prasang's throat. Prasang opened his mouth wide as it went nearly to the halfway point. He started to clutch and gag. "RRMF...RR-MMF!"

Gripping the stem like a handle, Martin pushed it further in, a centimeter at a time. "Sorry, Prasang, but I'd prefer to get this show on the road. We haven't got all night, you know?"

Martin, it seemed, was not a patient man.

Prasang's face turned a deeper shade of crimson as three fourths of the banana went down his throat. Martin moved it in and out a little too quickly for comfort.

The gurgling, gagging noises the boy made grew louder and more strained. "RRRG! UMRPH...UMM-OOF!" He said desperately.

He began to struggle, wiggling his buns and clenching his hole around my fingers. I ran my hand over his leg to try to keep him calm.

"What would you say, Master Martin?" I called up to him. "Were my calculations correct about the three fingers?"

"Close enough, mate, though you may want to try four on him just to be on the safe side."

I agreed. "Better safe than sorry."

Four fingers had, of course, been my plan all along. But I wanted to work Prasang up to it. Prepare him psychologically.

I slid my fingers out to position my pinky into the mix, then forced them all up into his hole as one thick digit. I squeezed his left buttock hard to offset the pain.

He gasped and lifted himself up again, flexing his buns as his sphincter spasmed desperately, trying to expel the many intruders.

"ARRMPH," he grunted around the plantain in his throat, which was only going deeper in. It was clear my four fingers in his hole were not easy either.

Gary, who had stayed in charge of pumping the boy's cock this whole time, finally spoke up. "Honestly, making such a fuss. Bit of a prima donna, wouldn't you say?"

He reached over and slapped Prasang's plump, swollen balls. "AAARCK!" Prasang cried. Water streamed from his eyes.

"Right you are, Master Gary," I said, sounding more like an Australian myself all the time. "I'll give him something to take his mind off it."

With my free hand I reached into my bag. There were six remaining clothespins from a pack of twenty.

Prasang's egg-sized balls hung down before me, the loose skin at the bottom of his scrotum still wearing the crown of wooden clothespins. I took a new one and used its head to feel for loose skin around his sack. When I found some, I clamped the clothespin on. I repeated this with three more until his ballsack looked like a pincushion. Prasang wept pitifully through the plantain.

"I'm doing this to help you, Prasang," I explained, rubbing his back again. "More clothespins will balance out the pain."

I reached up and clamped the last two remaining clothespins to the hairless flesh of his armpits.

"MM-HMF!" He could only blubber and slurp on the huge thing in his throat, his face moist with tears and saliva.

"Well now," Martin said, "I think we've given him about as much of a warmup as we can, wouldn't you say?"

He dislodged the green giant from the boy's throat, which actually took a little time. Prasang coughed and hacked when he was free of it, saliva dripped from his chin.

"We've got it all nice and warmed up for you, Master Jim," Martin said, "Now I think it's time to put it in the other end."

He handed me the soggy plantain, which I took by the stem. I was caught off guard by its heft and weighed it up and down in my hand as Martin had done.

I held it up to the moon and watched it shimmer, wet with saliva.

I then drizzled up and down the length of it with the bottle of oil the way you would apply ketchup to a hot dog. I used up almost all of it and by the end the plantain was dripping and shining like glass.

It was ready. As ready as it was ever going to be. Whether or not Prasang was was another matter.

I held the tip of it up to his beautiful hole, which was defenseless to ward off this massive beast looming behind it.

Holding it with both hands, I ran the tip up and down the crack of his ass a few times. He put up no resistance, understanding there was really no point, and flinched only once.

"Okay, Prasang, this is the big one. Keep breathing like I told you and push out with your ass. Let me see you push it out. Let me hear you groan."

Prasang pushed back and groaned like he was having a huge bowel movement. I was amazed to see his anus actually pucker outward into a little rosette. I would have loved to taste it, but now was not the time.

I put the tip of the plantain into the rosette and pushed.

The first four inches were no trouble at all. The oiled-up plantain combined with the intense loosening he'd already received meant there was no virtually resistance whatsoever. Prasang made only a mild "mmf" sound.

But the plantain got thicker. And thicker and thicker.

"You were right Martin," I said, holding it like a horn, "It really is more like four fingers rather than three. I owe you a beer, mate."

"Not at all, not at all," said Martin.

Prasang, meanwhile, was gritting his teeth and sucking in hissing breaths. Veins stood out on his forehead.

The truth was it was more like four and a half fingers and his hole was being stretched to near capacity. I stopped for a moment to wipe my own brow. Looking at the big green horn stuck halfway up his ass, I had a vision of a cargo ship docking in its bay.

"It's halfway in Prasang and it's bigger than I thought. Try clenching your hole, can you move it at all?"

"RRRRMMF," Prasang growled like an actual beast. That was apparently a no. Gary took out a tissue of his own and mopped Prasang's forehead with it. With the three of us tending him, it was like we were midwives at a birth. It was kind of "reverse" birthing, I guess.

Now I tried to push it in further but actually couldn't. I had to twist it an inch this way and inch that way, like a locker combination. At last, I found the exact right position and it began moving forward again.

Finally, we made it over the mountain and things got easier. Once we were three quarters in, as if by some miracle, the banana went the rest of the way in on its own. Prasang's hole swallowed it up all the way up to the stem.

"AA....AAAAHH!" Prasang cried out when it was all the way in. Exhausted and defeated as he was, he suddenly thrust his pelvis high into the air as if struck by lightning. Every muscle in his body went taut like marble and stood out. His buns clenched together so tightly even the little stem disappeared between them.

"Kun pra! Kun pra chuai!" He cried.

When he lowered himself down again, Gary dared to touch his cock.

Prasang gasped and it sprang to life immediately. As Gary caressed, it swelled up and lengthened at an amazing rate, like a balloon filling up with air.

Within seconds it was at full attention, pointing straight up at the sky, a sexual lightning rod that would light up at even the slightest touch. It was easily the same size as the plantain in Prasang's ass if not bigger. Veins stood out all over and it throbbed, ticking with his increased heart rate like the stuck second hand of a clock.

Martin squeezed the engorged head just slightly. All of us gasped as the slit vomited a long stream of pre-cum that ran all the way down his shaft to his balls.

Martin whistled, impressed. "I'd say that's done the trick, Jim, wouldn't you?"

Prasang hung there with his eyes shut tight and his jaw hanging open. He breathed like a sleeping tiger.

All of the sudden he began to moan, loudly, desperately. His eyes popped open. "Ah...AYE!" He cried. "CHUY DUAY! PLEASE!"

I jumped to my feet and rushed around to see what was happening. "What is it, Prasang?" I genuinely wanted to know. I felt like a mad scientist delving into uncharted territory.

"PLEASE!" He begged me, "PLEASE, MASTER, PLEASE! I NEED TO COME! I NEED TO COME!"

He was panting so heavily that the scene was starting to look more like an exorcism than a birthing.

Prasang's erection was bone hard, harder and thicker than I'd ever seen it. It was like a separate entity that had attached itself to his body and was sucking up all his life force. He was right, he needed to come.

Martin and Gary joined their hands together around this slobbering beast, completely slick now, not from oil but from barrels of pre-cum still streaming out of it. It pulsed in their grip as though beating with its own heart. Martin looked up at me, panting himself now. "Well, Master Jim, what do you say? Shall we give the poor boy release?"

They were waiting for me to give the word.. He looked desperate and almost crazed with desire. "PLEASE!" He bagged, "THA MAN TXN NI! DO IT, PLEASE!"

His body, mind, and soul were poised to do one thing and one thing only now: come.

My lip curled. I gave Martin and Gary a nod. They locked their fingers together around Prasang's Frankenstein of a boner.

His face screwed up in total ecstacy and he growled like al lion. "ARR...AARRRHA!"

His eyes rolled back in his head until only the whites were visible. For a minute, I feared his head might start spinning.

Martin and Gary pumped Prasang's slick shaft. His hefty balls bobbed up and down and the many clothespins stuck to them clacked together.

To this day, I have never heard someone cry out in the throngs of complete and total orgasmic nirvana the way Prasang did that night. His cries of sexual ecstasy echoed across the empty beach and carried through the sound of the waves. It was a thrilling and frightening experience that left me hard and trembling at the same time.

An eruption of white lava shot out of his cock and leapt high into the air. Then another, then another.

Prasang came stream after stream of creamy white bull's milk that covered his chest, stomach and groin.

As he came, his mouth was frozen in a silent O.

A shudder went through him from his head to his feet as the last of his boiling hot spooge oozed out. His stomach swelled up and he let out a very big, "Aaaaaaah."

Martin and Gary sat silently on either side of him, transfixed by what they had just witnessed. At last, they thought to release the boy's manhood and allow it to rest on his pelvis where it very nearly touched his navel.

"Well," Martin began at last, "I'd say the two of you more than delivered on your promise, well done, Jim...Prasang." He held up his cum-covered hand, observing the way the milky white semen streamed over it. "I have to admit I am impressed."

"Amazing," Gary said as though he'd just witnessed a supernatural occurrence. "Amazing..."

After a moment of silence, we all erupted in applause. Martin and Gary clapped Prasang hard on the back and tousled his hair. "Good show, mate, that was incredible!" Prasang grinned a big, dopey spent grin as the two men congratulated him. His eyes were half closed and it looked like he might pass out.

He was, of course, covered in his own cum and I knew there was no time to lose.

I still had the packet of tissues I used earlier on the bus. Just like before, I started sopping up the cum on his chest and stomach. I worked quickly, not wanting to lose a drop.

When I had a nice big, sopping wet wad in my hand, I gave Prasang a big pat on the shoulder. "You should feel proud, Prasang. You promised me you'd come big and hard and you did. Do you feel proud?"

"Yes, master," he said quietly, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Tell me you feel proud, Prasang."

"I feel proud, master."

Martin and Gary were still doting over him. "Good show, lad. I've never seen anything like it. You're a champion!"

A smile spread across my face. "Yes, of course. A champion. And as a champion, I want you to savor every last bit of your victory." I lifted the huge, soggy ball of cum and tissue to his lips. "Open, Prasang."

Prasang knew what I was going to do, but made no show of resistance this time.

Something of that amazing sexual electricity remained in his eyes and he looked at the big, nasty jizz ball with actual hunger. He popped his mouth open, ready to accept it.

I inserted the dripping wet mess into him.

"Keep it waded in your cheek like chewing tobacco," I said, "Don't swallow it. You are to just suck on it, understand? Just suck and savor every last little bit of your own yummy cum."

"Yeth, ma-fer," he said. I heard him sucking it as I had commanded, though he still grimaced. Even after forcing him to eat so much of his own cum on this trip, he still hadn't quite acquired a taste for it.

I began making a second cum ball, scooping the healthy juice off his belly, when Gary reached for his own tissues. "Let me help you out."

Soon, me and my two new companions were all wiping him clean with waded tissue, getting every last bit of moisture from his shaved groin and balls and where it had pooled in his navel.

I lifted up my boy's big, limp tubesteak to make sure there was nothing underneath.

One after the other, we stuffed them into his mouth until for the second time that day his cheeks were bulging huge with jizz rags.

When it seemed we had cleared up every last drop, Prasang groaned as Martin gave his deflated cock a not too gentle squeeze and drew out a hidden goldmine of cum.

"There we go, just like squeezing a tube of toothpaste," he said.

He shoved this last cum ball right under Prasang's tongue. "Savor it, Prasang, you've earned it."

"Does it taste good, Prasang?" I asked.

He said "yes, master," but it just sounded like "mmf-mrm-oof."

We told our sex toy to stay where he was, pinned between the two beach chairs, while the three of us began an impromptu photo shoot.

In the light of Martin and Gary's lantern, we took turns posing with Prasang.

There was one with all of our faces pressed together, smiling. We told Prasang to smile as best he could, which wasn't very much before a trickle of cum and saliva started to stream down his chin. We mopped it up with a new tissue and plugged that one in as well.

We got some good selfies of the three of us together kneeling down around Prasang's spent cock. We took turns posing with the head in our mouths.

We then went around beneath him and got photos with his exquisitely abused ass, squeezing his red buns hard until he was again dancing and clenching with pain.

This must have been particularly hard on his hole, which was still plugged to capacity with the plantain. Despite his silence, he was surely more than ready to have it out of him. Now that he had blown his load a third time, it must have been getting harder to bear with every passing minute. But the three of us kept flashing pictures. We just loved the way the stem stuck out like a puppy dog tail.

"Would you like us to take the banana out, Prasang?" I asked.

His eyes bulged. "RRUM-UFF!" He cried.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"RRRMF!" He pleaded and whimpered like a puppy, wiggling his buns back and forth to convey how badly he wanted it out.

"Oh, that is a shame," said Gary, "It looks so very nice up there."

But we knew it was time to take pity on our poor devoted slave boy. He had, after all, delivered on the near impossible task we had put on him (or at least that extraordinary body of his had).

I gripped the cute puppy tail and prepared for the surgical removal of this beast.

"All right, Prasang, bite down hard on those cum rags. You might want to hold your breath for this one. Don't clench your buns together if you can help it. Three...two...one!"

The head of the plantain started to crown.

"Uh...UUUUHH!" Cried Prasang, legs trembling as he struggled to keep still.

A suction sound rose up, followed by a big, wet pop. The plantain shot out of him into my hand. "RR-UM-OOF," Prasang said through his plugged mouth. He flexed his cheeks like mad as his poor hole spasmed uncontrollably. Free again, at last.

The three of us were amazed all over again by the sheer size of what he had taken up his ass.

"Would you look at that thing? It must've been all the way up to his guts," Gary marveled.

"He's even more of a champion than I realized after that unbelievable cum shower," said Martin.

We passed the banana around, touching it to our lips and faces, wanting to feel the heat of Prasang's hole on it.

I pulled the boy's buns wide and examined the damage with the light of my phone.

It was ground zero, all right. Where his pink rosebud had been was now a gaping mouth, red and raw.

I kept it stretched wide as Martin and Gary got their faces into it. They sniffed, licked, and suckled to their heart's content. Occasionally stopping to give each other a kiss.

Then they did the same for me. They pulled his buns apart wide as I buried my face in that beautifully stretched hole. I licked and sucked and savored its burning heat as Prasang blubbered and whined above me.

We snapped photos of Prasang's yawning hole and showed them to him, again pumping his hand and clapping him on the back for a job well done.

At last, Gary and I shifted Prasang carefully onto Martin's beach chair to allow him a rest. He hissed tiredly to have his very sore butt touch a surface, but it meant he could finally relax.

The three masters went off a ways and stood by a palm tree, leaving Prasang to swoon and suck his own semen in peace.

To be concluded...