YOUNG STUD
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Twelve
Look, it shouldn't have mattered. But I hated to see Juan capturing Jeff's affections like this, and Jeff displaying his enjoyment of Juan so openly, something he so rarely did with me. We got through the day somehow, though, and at the "demonstration" that night, I kind of got my revenge by starting off by forcing him to kneel, then pushing his shoulders onto the floor and raising his ass in the air, so I could begin by ramming my dick home as humiliatingly as possible. And afterwards I was far from gentle with him as I fucked him every which way, before covering his face with my cum, then commanding him to open his lips so it could trickle in.
It all went down well with the crowd, though, and afterwards I got enormous tips, much bigger than usual. But afterwards Jeff really did have his hard-done-by hangdog expression, and as soon as we were in bed Juan fell on him, comforting him, telling him what a great guy he was, and begging to be fucked - a request which Jeff had no difficulty fulfilling!
It was the same the next night, and I was really pissed off, especially when the bar owner told us that the boss had been delayed in New York and that he wouldn't be collecting us until the middle of the next day, rather than after our demonstration, as had been planned. So I had to endue another bout of seeing Jeff making love - yes, that's what it was - making love - to Juan, instead of just fucking him. I lay awake for hours, but Jeff and Juan were soon asleep, Jeff heavily so - I think I've told you that like a lot of guys who are not bright enough to plan the future so that they find out all the things they ought to be worried about, Jeff was an untroubled sleeper.
Look, you may think it's unfair of me to do what I did next, but until then Jeff and I had shared everything.
So when I saw that Juan was lying mostly off Jeff's body, I rolled him a little further away, pushed him onto his belly, and got myself half astride him. He began to wake up and I saw his hands reach out as he whispered "Jeff...."
"No, Juan. Jeff's asleep. And keep your voice down... He needs his sleep: he's a big guy, and he works hard."
"Senor Steve... Get off me, please, you're hurting..."
"Shut up, Juan. I'm just going to fuck you. That's what you wanted the other day, a man to fuck you..."
"Senor Steve, Jeff does it..."
"You need fucking by a proper man, Juan. A man like me who knows how to fuck men. Jeff really only knows how to fuck women... And when he fucks you, he treats you like a woman. I'm going to show you how a man gets fucked... You've seen me with Jeff, haven't you?"
His voice was halting now. "Yes I saw you tonight... Senor Jeff is hurting... You are rough..."
"That's proper man-on-man sex, Juan, now....."
I forced his face into the mattress to stifle his cries as I entered his asshole. It should have been easy, as it was still slimed with Jeff's cum. And Jeff's cock is thicker than mine, so the boy ought to have been used to it (although mine is longer). But he began to struggle and cry, so I had to work hard to totally subdue him and shut him up.
It was absolutely fantastic! Having the kid struggling underneath me, trying to prevent me entering him and fucking him, just made it so much more erotic, so much more sexy, so much more exciting.
I knew this was what a man was meant to do - a big, powerful man like me should have his way over a young, weak guy like Juan. The more he resisted, the more it drove me wild with passion and desire. And once I'd forced my dick head into his hole, I was perfectly unable to stop myself from slamming my dick right home, revelling, as I did, in the way that his whole body bucked and his muffled cries broke out again.
I wanted it to go on for a long, long, time. I flipped him over onto his back, then, still inside him, sort of rolled off the bed and stood up: I could easily to this, as he didn't weight all that much. I stood there with one arm around him mostly supporting him, pressing my face into his chest, as I began to pump my hips. He started to shout, and with my other hand I reached up and tried to stop him by forcing his head down onto my shoulder, but he bit me, and began to kick at me with his heels, landing a veritable torrent of sharp blows on the back of my thighs as his legs curled around me as I carried on fucking him. The more he did this, though, the more the intensity of my fucking increased - having him resist and struggle was such a complete turn on.
Suddenly, though, I heard a great shout of "What the fuck.....", and realised Jeff was awake. He was pulling himself to a a sitting position in bed, and rubbing his eyes (he doesn't wake up easily!). He saw Juan struggling, my body heaving as I held him in the air fucking him, and started to move.... But at that moment it was all over: I cried out as my balls began to pump their biggest load of cum ever, I reckon, up into Juan.
"Steve....", Jeff roared. "What the fuck are you doing?" For a big man he is remarkably nimble when he needs to be, and almost instantly he was standing by me, taking hold of Juan and lifting him down off my cock. Juan threw his arms around Jeff and began sobbing, and Jeff was rubbing his back tenderly, trying to comfort him.
"You bastard, Steve!", Jeff stormed. "What have you don with Juan?"
"Only what you did. But properly. A young guy like that who wants to go with men needs to learn what it's all about properly. So, as I needed sex, and he was available, I used him."
"You raped him...."
"Jeff, get real will you? He's been throwing himself at us ever since we got here. He's only got what he asked for."
"You bastard, Steve! Couldn't you leave the kid alone? He's a good kid, a...."
"...well you liked fucking him, so why shouldn't I? We're meant to be buddies, Jeff, and ever since we've been here all you've wanted to do is get your dick up his ass.... And you're the one who'd always going on about not being a fag...."
"You don't fuck guys who don't want it, Steve! Especially not kids like Juan...."
"Well I did, and I'm going to do it again later...."
Jeff stood there, and I could see him almost glowering with rage. His fists were clenched at his side, and he advanced towards me "You'll leave him alone, Steve..."
"...leave him for you, you mean!"
Jeff's fists were raised now, and I shouted "Don't try it, Jeff! I've told you that you might have been a trained fighter, but you're older now... And I'm fit and ready for you...."
At that moment the door opened and the boss walked in.
He saw Jeff looking as if he was going to take a swipe at me, and me in a defensive stance, and snapped "What the fuck are you two doing? 'Slave Rest', at once!"
I think both Jeff and I were so surprised that we did as he commanded, and stood there, breathing hard, and, I suppose, our tempers cooling.
"Boss", Jeff began - which was unusual as he didn't often take an initiative "Boss, Steve just fucked this boy against his will..."
"NO, Boss, he asked for it! Just because Jeff has been fucking him, he thinks that I can't...."
"Silence!", the boss shouted. "Both of you! How dare you fuck without my permission... Either of you!"
"You said we could have sex, boss", Jeff almost shouted back. "And this poor kid here needs someone to be good to him, and I...."
"Silence!" The boss was really angry now. "When I said you could have sex, I meant with each other. I ought to punish you both severely for fucking the boy, with or without him wanting it. But it's fortunate for you that I have other matters to pursue today. Steve - go and get showered, and cleaned out, and shaved: I want your body at the peak of perfection as I am going to show you to someone. And you, Jeff - well, you stay here. I suppose you may as well work for the bar owner again, until I get back."
We both stood there and the boss snapped "Are you both deaf, or totally disobedient? Do as I command. Now!"
I guess I thought that the boss was going to show me to some prospective new client for studding, so I took care to make myself neat and tidy, and scraped a razor over my balls again, and so on. By the time I'd finished and had put on clean slave shorts and a T, the boss looked cross as he said we were late. We walked to the subway as the boss said the appointment was right downtown and, of course I hard to run to the front of the train to get into the slave carriage, and then, when we were in the centre, the boss was annoyed as it took me a couple of minutes to find him on the platform.
We walked to one of those big, swanky, expensive hotels and the boss strode across the lobby as he evidently knew where we were going. Fortunately there was a discrete sign by the elevators that said "Slaves accompanying owners are allowed in the elevators with their owners, but at all other times must use the stairs", as we were going to the twenty fifth floor.
The corridor was wide, and luxurious, and silent. We went to a room and the boss pressed the bell, and a few moments later a slave opened it and ushered us in - it was a suite, as we were in the sitting area, with two big couches and a coffee table. A moment later the door from the bedroom opened, and a man walked in.
I was standing respectfully at slave rest with my head bowed, as the boss liked, so it was only when he called out "Stephen!" That I glanced up and saw it was my dad!
Well, I was almost in shock. Dad almost ran across the room and threw his arms around me, and was hugging me and, his breath was all ragged, as if he was on the verge of crying. I was all choked up, too, and threw my arms around dad.
The boss let us stand there for a few moments, then said quietly "Steve, 'Slave rest'."
"Please, boss...."
"Do as you're told, Steve!"
"Sir, my son...", dad began.
"As we discussed on the phone, Mr Masters, Steve is not your son. He ceased to be your son when he was enslaved. He is my slave. I own him, and when I give him an order, I expect to be obeyed." His tone changed again and he snapped "Steve, I told you 'Slave rest'. Do I have to punish you?"
I still stood there, almost frozen. Dad looked at the boss "Oh come, come, sir... He's going to be my son again... There's no need for this...."
"Mr Masters, I understood you to be a lawyer..."
"Yes, of course. In Manchester; we are the premier law firm in the state..."
"...then as a lawyer you will know that precision is important in all things. You may indeed buy this slave from me, if the terms remain mutually agreeable, but he will never become your son again. Under the laws here a slave cannot, for example, inherit your property."
"Dad, are you going to buy me?"
"Yes, Stephen. I'm going to buy you, and take you home to the North, and you can pick up your life where you left off."
"As a lawyer myself - and about to become very active again - I think I should warn you, Mr Masters, that what you are proposing is unlawful. You may not remove a slave from the South, and so you cannot take Steve back to New Hampshire."
"As one lawyer to another then, sir, let me remind you of the well known principle that a lawyer does not unnecessarily delve into aspects of another's business that have no bearing on the case in hand. So what I intend to do with Stephen is my own affair."
The boss just shrugged. But I sensed a problem. "Boss, if you're selling me to my dad, what about Jeff?" I looked at dad and asked anxiously "Have you bought Jeff too?"
"Don't be silly, Stephen! What would I want with a slave? And, anyway, you were expensive enough...."
"Boss, what's going to happen to Jeff? The studding work is drying up, and he can't do 'demonstrations' by himself...."
The boss looked at me calmly. "I'm selling Jeff, too.
My bitch of an ex-wife has re-married, and so has no further claim on me. So I have been in discussions with my old law firm, who are in certain difficulties that you would not comprehend, and they have asked me to return to New York as Managing Partner. It was a tough decision, but perhaps I have done all there is to do as an itinerant slave owner and stud master - it was amusing, and interesting, but I am looking forward to returning to my old life. It was fortuitous that your father contacted me, and I have struck a deal with him, rather than putting you up for auction."
"But what about Jeff?" My voice was raised, stressed.
"I have no further use for him either, so he is going for auction. And, anticipating that there would be some unpleasantness - your tone is far from respectful - I have arranged for him to be collected form the bar." He looked at his watch, and added "...round about now."
"NO!", I shouted. "You can't do this! Not to Jeff. Him and me.... You can't split us up...."
The boss just shrugged. "I have done so already. Your father offered me a good price, and I will sell you to him. And I expect Jeff will fetch a good price at auction as older, fit whiteys are coming more into fashion...."
"NO!", I almost screamed now. "Dad, please... Make him stop... Offer to buy Jeff."
My father looked at me sternly. "Stephen, I want to hear no more of this. Your owner has described to me something of the relationship between you and this other slave, and it is clearly unsatisfactory. I would not buy him, even if I could. You will be coming back with me to Manchester, and you'll soon forget all this aberrant behaviour. You'll go back to college, find a nice girl, settle down, give me a grandson... Your mother will like that, too - she still talks to me about you, even though since our divorce she won't talk to me about anything else."
"Dad, please... It's not 'aberrant behaviour'... Jeff and I love each other... You haven't let him be sold, to some new owner who might just want to bugger him..." I turned around desperately to the boss and went on "And you know how Jeff needs someone to look after him...."
"Slave, shut the fuck up!", the boss said angrily. "I have sold him, and that's that. But I am not, as you ought to be aware, totally insensitive: I bought that young Mexican slave from the bar owner and they're being auctioned as a package - Jeff seemed to get along well enough with him, and the Mexican seemed a bright lad...."
"I'm not a slave any longer - you heard dad... How could you do this to me and Jeff? We served you well, we...."
"Steve, you are still a slave, my slave. And here in the South you will always be a slave, as slavery is for life. And as my slave, you will obey me, and be respectful. I have not yet sold you to your father, and whilst you remain my slave...."
"Oh shut the fuck up..." I spun around and went on Dad, cut through this crap... Make him sell Jeff to you...."
The boss looked almost apoplectic. "I will not have this! Not from a slave." He turned to my father and added "I am afraid this is the problem that I referred to in our various discussions. Steve is still unruly, and can get out of control. I advised you that it would be difficult to control him... And, indeed, I suspect that's been the problem all his life: you never properly disciplined him as a child, so he thought he could do and say whatever he pleases. If he'd not been wild, and had been properly respectful, I don't think he'd be a slave now as he would not have committed all that public damage as a college student."
Dad just stood there, saying nothing. The boss went on "Before I sell him to you I am therefore going to do something that he has needed for a long time: punish him severely. As an owner I was always threatening it, but never quite got around to it as he has a certain charm and could talk me around. But now, after his rudeness, and as an assistance to you, I am going to go through with it. Perhaps he will remember, when and if you ever get him back to Manchester, that there is punishment waiting for those who persist in disobedience."
"Sir", dad began, "I'm sure there's no need of this...
Let me just complete the purchase..."
"No. As ever, Steve would get away with it. And it's not good for him. You should be pleased that I am going to do this - it would be hard for you, as his father, at his age, I suspect: you should have done this long ago."
The boss turned to me, pointed to the edge of the room and said quietly "Like all good suites, this one is well equipped. As well as a trouser press, I see they have provided their guests with a punishment horse. Go and pull that one over into the middle of the room, and get on it, on your belly."
"NO!"
The boss looked calm. He turned to my father, and said "See? He now disobeys even simple, direct orders. May I use your phone?"
Dad nodded, and the boss picked up the hotel phone and pressed a big red button on it - the same sort of red button as on his cell phone, that would call the SP! Here in this prestigious hotel, though, it evidently called the hotel security staff, as a few moments later there was a knock on the door - no, a thunderous knocking on the door - and without waiting for an answer three big men came in. They were dressed in smart black uniforms with the hotel logo on the chest, and without even stopping, two of them seized me, twisted my arm up around my back until I screamed, and forced me to my knees. They held me there as the third one said "Sorry for the delay, sir - but the slave is under control now."
I saw dad looking aghast, and I shouted "Let me go, you fuckers... I haven't done anything...."
One of the men holding me slapped my face, hard. So hard my head was thrown to one side. "Shut the fuck up, boy! Even if you hadn't done anything before, that outburst is enough to merit a punishment."
"Quite!", the boss said quietly. "Would you be so good as to bring the horse to the centre of the room and fasten him to it? By the wrists will be sufficient, as I prefer the legs to be able to move futilely as I beat him: it emphasises to him how helpless he is, and how much in my power."
The three men clearly knew what they were doing , as within seconds I was lying face down on the horse, my hands secured to the front legs with the in-built manacles. One of them slapped me hard on the ass, and I tried to get up, but of course couldn't.
"Is that all, sir?", their leader asked the boss, and when he nodded, they left the room.
"Now, Steve", the boss began. "You once saw me 'slipper' Jeff. And that's what I'm going to do to you. Painful - very painful - but no unsightly cane marks or permanent damage to that delightful butt of yours..."
"Sir, I must protest", dad began.
"Mr Masters, please stay out of this. Steve remains my property, and I could yet choose not to sell him to you. I could, after all, simply send him to auction and not tell you where..."
The boss came around behind me and I felt him open my shorts and pull them down. "No.... Please... My dad...." I spluttered. I mean, I hadn't had my naked ass in front of my dad since I was a tiny kid. We weren't prudish at home or anything like that, but mom and dad thought that I should at least wear boxer shorts when I went from the bathroom to my own room before and after a shower. And I guess we were not at all used to total nudity in the family. But now here I was, on this horse, my butt totally exposed to dad. Instinctively I shuffled my feet together as I did not want dad to see my balls handing down between my thighs.
The boss ran his hand over my butt, and I wriggled slightly. "See, Mr Masters - Steve is in excellent condition! I always made sure he exercised properly as my customers liked to see a slave they're paying for to stud is in good shape - it augers well for the progeny."
I could feel myself starting to glow with embarrassment and shame, at having dad see the boss handle me like this. But then the boss said "Here, Steve - open your mouth: I'm going to gag you as you'll make a lot of noise, and we don't want to disturb the other guests..."
Fuck him, I thought, and kept my mouth defiantly closed. I felt the boss's hand reach between my legs, and in spite of my efforts to clamp them closed tight, his fingers wriggled through and found my balls. He squeezed, and I screamed. And then the boss said quietly "Steve, I don't want to hurt you, especially not with your father here. So do as you're told, boy, and open your mouth to take the gag."
He had me, and he and I both knew it. I opened my mouth, although I glared defiantly at the boss, and he took a silk handkerchief out of his top pocket, shoot it out to a single pane and screwed into a ball, which he then stuffed into my mouth. I could taste the boss's aftershave on it, pungently citrus-like.
I felt the boss's hand on my butt again then, as he said quietly "You remember the slipper, don't you, Steve? And how Jeff gave in and began to cry? Well, now you're going to receive the same treatment....."
He slammed the slipper down on to my butt and the "slap" echoed around the room. I almost shot off the ground with the surprise and pain - the initial harsh bite of the thing, and then the dull ache that spread all through me. And then, before I could finish analysing what was happening to me and begin to fully comprehend the discomfort I was in, another terrible strike, at my other butt cheek. Now I did, instinctively, cry out, but the silk ball in my mouth effectively silenced me.
I knew I was bucking around on the horse, desperately trying to avoid the blows as they rained down on me. I couldn't move my body far with my wrists cuffed to the front legs, but as my legs were free I frantically tried to move away, or from side to side, or even just to change the angle a bit, as the punishment went on. I could see why the boss had had my ankles free - if I'd been totally secure, I would somehow have known that there was nothing I could do about it. But with this very limited movement there was the faintest possibility that I could somehow avoid the blows - or so my brain thought, although the reality was otherwise, and this gave me an additional feeling of utter helplessness in the face of the boss's treatment of me.
Strangely, dad didn't protest or anything: perhaps he was mindful of what the boss had said about not selling me to him, and was remaining entirely passive in spit of my suffering, as this was the lesser of two evils. I lost track of the number of times the slipper smashed into my bare butt, but at some point the boss stopped, and came and stood in front of me, panting from his exertions.
"There, Steve! You have been needing that for a long time. I'm going to give my slipper to your new owner, who I suppose might as well be your father, as I will have no further need of it, although he surely will if you continue to be rebellious and disobedient."
As he said this, he pulled his handkerchief out of my mouth: the handkerchief now wet with my spit. I began t say something, choking back the tears of pain and rage as I did so, but the boss got in first "Careful, Steve! Before you say anything, remember the need to be respectful and subservient to your owner at all times.... The slipper could be used again, remember..."
In spite of my anger and humiliation I gritted my teeth and said nothing therefore, and, smiling to himself, the boss leaned down and undid the straps holding my wrists to the horse. I stood upright, terribly conscious of the pain in my butt, and without turning around so that I would expose my dick to my dad, quickly pulled up my shorts and stood there.
"So, Mr Masters, do you still want to go ahead and buy this slave?", the boss asked.
"Of course... He's my son...."
"Perhaps I might remind you of the law, Mr Masters. He is not your son, as I said earlier. He is a slave. And, in any case, a close relative may not buy a slave - the law does not want an owner who could make life easy for those who have transgressed.... If you persist in telling me that you are Steve's father, I am afraid that as a responsible citizen I would have to decline the sale. So I ask again, do you still want to buy this slave, for the price we discussed?"
"Yes."
"Dad, please buy Jeff as well....", I begged.
"One more word out of you, Steve", the boss snapped, "And you'll be on the horse again. This gentleman and I are negotiating for your sale and purchase, and a slave has nothing to add."
"I've already said that it is only this slave that I will buy", dad said to the boss. "Please continue, sir."
The boss opened his slim, elegant leather document case and bought out two documents that looked as if they were "legal" - thick paper, those paragraphs typed without punctuation or spacing. "Two standard contracts, approved for use throughout the South", he said to dad. "Perhaps you'd like to read them before signing...?"
"No, sir. I'm a lawyer, too, and I respect the integrity of another lawyer - especially one who is about to become Managing Partner of a prestigious New York firm - I've studied the standard contract, and provided I have your assurance that there are no deviations, I'm happy to sign."
Dad got out his expensive fountain pen that he always used for important matters as I'd seen so many times before, and went to sign. "Stop, Mr Masters...." The boss held dad's arm lightly. "As you are familiar with the contract you will know that you agree that you have inspected the slave properly."
"Oh I'm sure he's OK. I'll take your word...."
"I'm sorry, Mr Masters, but I must insist on you formally inspecting the slave. Should there be a problem in the future and a Court asked me if due process was followed, as a lawyer and therefore an officer of the Court, I'd be bound to say 'no' and the whole process would be invalid."
"You're right, of course, sir. I'm sure this won't take a moment...." Dad answered. And then to my horror I heard the boss say "Unclothe, Steve, so we can inspect you properly."
"Please, boss.... Not in front of my dad...."
"Steve, do you want to go on the horse again? And if you refer again to this gentleman, your prospective new owner, as your father, I will be forced to call off the sale. Now, unclothe - it's not as if you have not been naked in front of men before!"
Well he was right, of course - but it's different when you're twenty one and the men you're appearing naked in front of include your dad! But what was I to do? Turning away from them so I didn't expose my dick, I pulled my T off, then slowly let my shorts fall over my hips. I thought, and I think dad thought, that this would just be a formality. But the boss put his hands around my neck and probed under my ears with his thumbs, then said "Come, Mr Masters - please do as I have just done and verify that his lymph glands are not swollen."
"I'm sure there is no need of that, sir..."
"Slave inspections require a deal of formality, Mr Masters, and I must insist...."
I felt dad's fingers around my neck, and then the boss said "Now please run down over his shoulders and upper back - please verify that there is no apparent muscle damage. And at the same time notice that the tattoo across his shoulders is a real one, and indelible, and that I cannot be held responsible should you decide that you would have preferred a clean-skinned slave."
"Well I suppose we could have it removed...."
"I think not, Mr Masters. Not one that size. There would always be residual traces. I think you should keep the slave marked like that with his name, as it's useful when he is shirtless and with other slaves, for ready identification."
The boss's hands were on my back again and he called dad's attention to something. "Please rub your finger over this tiny mark.... Do you feel it?"
"Yes, sir..."
"That, Mr Masters, is the insertion point for Steve's chip. In spite of using the best veterinarian, there's always some faint mark, but from any reasonable distance it's not noticeable. He is properly registered at the slave registry with that chip."
"A chip, sir?"
"Oh, you are probably unaware that, by law, all slaves must have a responder chip buried in them. It's to prevent escapes, and illegal exportation: there's a 'no slave' zone within half a mile of the border with the North, and any chipped slave entering it will trigger an alert to the SP. Similarly all the airports would instantly alert Security were a chipped slave attempt to board a plane: you need to make special arrangements for internal flights, and all international travel, even to Mexico and Canada, is of course prohibited."
"I was thinking of taking St... the slave back to Manchester with me...."
"Impossible, Mr Masters. When Congress approved the slavery legislation it was on the specific understanding that slaves would remain in the South: it was of course in the interests of slaves, as it is considered highly undesirable for Americans to be exported to other countries."
As I stood there, I felt like laughing! Congress being concerned for the export of Americans? Some of the things that were done to slaves here at home needed attention first!
"But how....?"
"Mr Masters, as a lawyer, and an officer of the court, you surely cannot be expecting me to advise you about how to evade the law? The penalties for the illegal export of slaves are severe, and not something that another lawyer such as yourself would want to risk, believe me. You could find yourself a slave, rather than a slave owner! Some of those who do this type of thing are caught every year.... It's in many of the papers, as a warning to others."
"When you say 'do this type of thing', you make it sound as if there's some sort of means of doing it..."
"Well yes, as I said. There are slave smugglers who, for a fee, will export a slave illegally. But a respectable man like yourself, Mr Masters, would use such people with extreme caution: they tend to be in places like Miami, in the Latino ghettos. At the start of the century they used to smuggle illegal immigrants to Miami from Cuba, but the slavery laws stopped that as the immigrants, if caught, were enslaved. Now they smuggle slaves out to Cuba, and 'freedom'... But, as I said, such people are acting completely illegally, and you would not wish to associate with them."
"Quite so, sir. Thank you for the 'warning', dad said.
"Right - we will continue the inspection. Now, feel the slave's butt, and observe that it is smooth and that there are no hidden ridges under the skin. In spite of the slave's tendency to argue and be less that totally subservient, I have refrained from caning him as that does damage the underlying tissue, and many owners prefer a slave's butt to be smooth."
I winced as dad's hands cupped my butt, not only because I was still suffering badly from the slippering, but because it's not right to have your dad fondling your butt, is it? But mercifully it didn't go on for long, and dad withdrew his hands after a couple of seconds.
"Right, Steve: touch your toes", the boss commanded. "We need to see that asshole of yours."
"Please, boss, no...."
End Of Part Twelve