Author: Alex, from Portugal E-mail: port_pass@hotmail.com
Any feedback will be much appreciated.
This story may have non-consensual sex between males. Don't read it if you're not legally allowed to or if it might disturb you.
Part 42
As I walked away from the school I felt utterly miserable. It took me a while to regain my breath after just the short run out of school. My body itched all over as my clothes had clogged to my skin over the batches of teenage sperm that were still fresh when I hurriedly put them on. Worst of all, my arse and upper legs were agonisingly painful after the rough belting I had got from Thunder.
To make it all worst, the pain and discomfort were constant reminders of the absolute degradation I had been put through. I was now irrevocably the school whore, and after the illusion of deliverance of that morning had come crushing down so disastrously, I had no hope in the world of ever freeing myself of that curse of sexual abuse and humiliation I seemed to attract.
In all the array of painful events I had been through, there was one particular thing I tried not to think about, but kept creeping more and more insistently to my mind. Something that mortified me more than any of the other degrading acts I had been through. I couldn't stop thinking about Thunder's huge steel-hard cock ramming inside me, and how it mercilessly stimulated the pleasurable spot of my prostate.
The wanton feeling I endured when he deliberately denied me of the addictive gratification he had just introduced me to was now coming back again, and even stronger. The fiery sensitiveness of my belted buttocks and thighs seemed somehow to be feeding a sort of burning itch deep inside me, focusing on my precociously stimulated gland. At the same time, my sore little nipples, dilated under my shirt, were throbbing in pace with my arse and my prostate, and my whole body was tingling agonisingly with a desire I rejected, but couldn't control.
Suddenly dizzied by this overwhelming rush of lust, I had to steady myself against a wall for a moment, my eyes closed, still desperately fighting to shake those shameful, obscene thoughts from my mind and trying to overcome the physical desire that was taking control of me.
For a moment I even believed that my better judgement had miraculously managed to overpower my lust, but when I opened my eyes I realised I was standing right in front of the building site for the new hotel across from the station, where I had been dragged to the half-built basement and brutally gang-raped by a whole crew of horny construction workers (#22-23).
Immediately, my mind drifted back to those moments, and it was not with the repulse I should rightly feel. In fact, it suddenly struck me that the excruciating pleasure Thunder had so skilfully given me - only to then deprive me sadistically of it - was not new. I had felt it many times in those last days, only not in such a powerful way. All the numerous times I had responded sexually, against my will, to the raw abuse I suffered, the little lust button inside me had been triggered, driving me to unwanted erections and orgasms that evidenced my own shameful surrender.
Thunder had already turned a page in my life by being the first to rape my tight virgin twelve-year-old arsehole, turning it - for good, as I now realised - into a sloppy, loose cunt that so many had used after him.
That first time he had been only concerned with his pleasure, and all the men and boys that raped me afterwards couldn't care less if I enjoyed the fuckings I was forced to endure.
Now, for the first, and with the worst intentions, he had deliberately meant to make it feel good for me, knowing I would always be wanting more and more of it, like a drug-addict fighting for his next fix. My drug was cock; big, hard, throbbing cocks that banged me mercilessly inside until their owners expelled their nasty loads of cum inside me. They didn't care if I hated it or not; and neither did my own wilful pussy.
It took all of my desperate self-control to resist the temptation of crossing the street, go into the pitch-dark construction site and descend into the basement again - this time on my own free will, to look for the pleasure I knew those rough construction workers could give me, even if the price for that would be to submit to any of their obscene demands.
Unfortunately, there were memories of different ordeals all around that square: the public toilet at the station where I had been gang-fucked by several strangers and also by Gil, now my self-appointed pimp (#11, 12, 13); the parking area where I had been fucked in a bus by the conductor and the driver (#21); the taxi stop where Inacio had picked me up and taken me to into the woods to abuse me together with another two taxi-drivers, Cesar and Paulo (#25-26).
Without even realising how, I found myself outside the station toilet. Even the disgusting whiff of stale piss that lingered in the corridor seemed to draw me inside. I waited for a moment and no one went in or out. I convinced myself that I would only go there for a pee and finally gathered the strength to push the door and walk in. The stench was overpowering now, making even more vivid the memory of those moments on my hands and knees in one of the dirty stalls. Part of me was relieved to realise that the whole place was deserted.
I turned around and headed for the door, just as it suddenly swung in and a man came in. My heart froze as I realised he was an older man, the same one that had watched my whole obscene performance right there on the toilet and got me to suck him off on the bus afterwards (#14).
Seeing me standing there, he grinned and asked "looking for something, boy?" Suddenly scared of the whole situation - or maybe because he was far from being the hung, potent male Thunder had left me hungering for - I just mumbled "No sir, I was just leaving" and tried to avoid him and reach the door. "Don't play games with me, you little slut. I know what you want and I'm still the man to give it to you", he snapped in an angry tone, insulted that I didn't seem to find him attractive enough. After having seen me kneeling on the filthy floor of that same toilet taking cock on both ends from strangers, or sucking cock on the bus it was understandable that he didn't have any reservation about using a 12-year-old little slut like me.
Before I knew it, he pushed me into a stall - the very same where I had been the other time - and forced me to my knees. He fumbled with his trousers until he took his limp cock out of his fly. "You came here looking for cock" (which was in fact the truth) "and you're going to get it", he told me, pulling back his foreskin and starting to rub his cheesy cockhead on my closed lips. "Open up and suck it, bitch" he ordered, as he started to slap my face with his flaccid shaft, trying to get it hard.
I knew better than to resist. I took it in my mouth and started to suck, but his cock struggled to respond to my evident lack of enthusiasm. Some of my repulse for him came from the part of me that still tried to hold on to the last shred of decency and self-respect I had. Most of all, however, I resented that his ageing, half-stiff, average-size cock was nothing close to the large chunk of steel-hard meat that Thunder had left my anal pussy craving for, and that, to my utter disgrace, I had wondered in there looking for. I should be crying with shame from seeing myself in that situation - on my doing - but it was in fact shear disappointment that brought me to tears.
In any case, he was determined to get what he wanted, and didn't care if I gave it willingly or not. Probably wanting to punish my unspoken rejection and at the same time find an excuse for his own failure to reach a full erection, he suddenly yanked his cock from my mouth and held it right in front of my face. "Don't worry, boy. I'll get it nice and hard for you" he said "I just need to do first what I came in here for." Before I realised what he meant, a first gush of hot, stinking piss hit me right across the face. "Open up and swallow, you filthy urinal" he commanded, and shoved his gland back in my mouth. The stream of steaming urine flowing from his open piss-slit filled my mouth and dribbled down my chin. At first, the rancid taste made me contract in an irrepressible vomit, but - not unfamiliar with the vile taste of piss by now - I quickly recovered and managed to start swallowing fast enough not to choke, in spite of the nauseating feeling of my own belly quickly getting filled with the fetid liquid.
He moaned contentedly as he emptied his pressured bladder into my stomach, until the never-ending flow of piss finally started to subside. As if he wanted to give me the taste of the last drops, he squeezed his cock onto my tongue, then shoved it back into my mouth. "Now get it hard, bitch" he growled, stressing his command with a mean slap across my face.
I started to suck more enthusiastically. His mean slaps were an effective incentive but I was also driven by the encouraging thought that he might at least decide to fuck me and be able to give my arse-pussy at least some of the pleasure it so obsessively craved for.
My intensified efforts didn't make him relax his demanding attitude. Instead, he rewarded me by grabbing my hair and starting to face-fuck me forcefully, trying to push his cock as deep into my gagging throat as he could. "I know you like it rough, you nasty little tart. This is what you were made for, bitch, and you're going to take it until I dump my cum-load where my piss-load already is."
His words convinced me that he had no intention of moving from my mouth to my eager cunt, so I decided to make a last desperate attempt to get from him what I really had come looking for. As he pounded his cock in and out of my throat, I pulled my trousers and my underwear down. My next move was to try to push him away, so I had the chance to turn around and offer him my round butt naked. However, he read my gesture as a last attempt to reject him, and punished me with a couple more vicious slaps across my already swelling face. "Don't you dare stop sucking until I'm finished with you, you filthy slut" he yelled angrily, not even bothering that anyone might ear him outside the unlocked stall.
Tears were running down my face, but again more out of sexual frustration than from the pain of his brutal slapping. When he resumed the rough face-fucking, even harder than before, I lost any hope of getting his cock up my fuck-hole and resigned myself to getting him off as soon as I could. Holding on to his waist, I managed to take control and started pumping my face on his cock, willingly taking it deep in my throat and swallowing tight around it to give it as much pleasurable sensations as I could.
My efforts worked perfectly and I quickly had him moaning louder and louder. "Oh yes, here comes your reward, you little cocksucker whore. Eat that hot seed, bitch" he yelled, right before the first jet of hot sperm shot directly down my throat, followed by several more in my mouth as he started pulling out of my tight throat.
The same as he mixed his cum with his piss in my stomach, he also saved a last spurt of sperm to blend with his urine on my face. Once he was finished, he hastily tucked his spent cock back into his trousers and left, saying goodbye with an ominous "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon, boy" and leaving me on my knees, with my arse bare, on the dirty floor of the station toilets.