A few years back, I saved up enough to buy a used White Van. I padded and carpeted the back, put in a cabinet and curtains. But I also added something special�a padded sawhorse with restraints, reinforced with crossbars and bolted to the floor.
On Saturday I walked to the local bar and picked up a sexy virgin�early 20's, auburn hair, blue eyes. I'm a sucker for blue eyes. I invited him back to my place. He said he didn�t fuck. I said okay.
I showed him my new van, and grinned when he told me he how much he liked it. I hoped he would. He was gonna spend some time in there. He wasn�t sure about the sawhorse, though. I demo�d it�lay down and had him bind and gag me. I let him try it. I bound his arms and legs and muzzled him.
My dick grew hard as I stared down at him�the perfect specimen�trussed up and gagged and at my mercy�if it weren�t for those damn clothes! They wouldn�t do. So using knife and scissors, I pealed away the garments till he was nude. Panicky and frightened, he struggled violently at the restraints and bellowed sobs of protest. But the device held firm, and all I heard were muffled cries.
He�d said he didn�t fuck�I wondered. Maybe he had changed his mind. With Vaseline I lubed him. I grabbed his hips and forced myself in him. He writhed and sobbed in agony. He hadn�t reconsidered after all. Nonetheless, I had my way with him. I plowed his ass and rammed it him. In short, I bred him. He wailed indecipherably as I climbed out and locked the door behind me. Perfect! I couldn't hear a thing.
I drove slowly to a leather bar and parked in the rear. One by one, I volunteered my sacrificial lamb to the bar patrons. It wasn�t long before I had a taker�your typical biker in boots and jeans.
We walked out to the van and climbed in. Pruriently he explored the youth�s anatomy. A hairy limb snaked between his thighs to squeeze his dick and cup his balls. His digits speared the Vaseline and cum-lubed mancunt. The youngster jerked reflexively.
"Nice ass.�
Hysterically the punk tugged at the restraints.
"He okay with this?"
"Was what he wanted."
The biker smirked.
The Dude was hard by the time he got undressed. He stepped between his legs and fucked him. He shot his jism in him and left.
Over the next few hours, I found a dozen studs, who eagerly mounted my young man. By the third load, the lad could do no more than blubber, which aroused his partners further. His hole overflowed with cum. The old cream kept gushing out with each new penetration. After each paramour departed, I rimmed his ass to keep him from soiling the carpet.
But the last dude was the TOPPER.
A hairy, balding, salt-and-pepper-bearded, beer-bellied truck driver, who reeked of gas and oil and exhaled fumes of Bud. He munched on a cigar stub soggy with saliva and too chewed up to smoke.
I took him to the van like all the others. With unkempt finger nails he scarfed up jizz leaking from the young man�s cunt.
"Guess I'm not the first to have him. I love a juicy fuck."
He unzipped and a huge mound of flesh spilled out, which hardened to a beer can cock, replete with a huge steel PA.
"Damn!" I muttered.
"Think he can take it?"
"He�s gonna have to."
He pressed the steel ring against the young man�s pussy.
"Hold on, Fucker. Gonna be a bumpy ride."
He shoved it in the youth, who writhed in pain and whimpered.
"You had your fun, boy. Now I gotta BREED you."
He forced his monster shaft up in young man�s hole. The kid rebelled in agony.
"SHUT UP, SLUT!"
He plowed away at the lad�s pussy, as tears of torment streaked down his cheeks. The Biker Dude plowed brutally in and out. His stamina was incredible. He�d fuck a while, slow down and rest his dick, luxuriating in the inner-warmth of the young man�s guts, then go back to screwing. An hour later, he was still at it. The boy lay silently in shock, all semblance of rebellion dissipated.
�I could screw this ass forever; but I gotta be at work in the morning."
He grasped the youngster�s hips and launched a final torturous assault.
"HERE CUMS PAYDAY, KIDDO! The Biker, wracked by multiple orgasms, shot his jism in the punk.
"Great fuck! I needed that."
He stuffed his cock and balls back in his jeans, the front of which were dank with ass juice and cum from all the other studs.
"Hope ya liked that, Buddy Boy. Felt like I shot a gallon of poison jizz in you."
As he climbed out, he turned back to the youth.
"You understand, don�t you? I�M POZ." He giggled as he walked away.
I looked back at the startled youth, whose eyes had opened up to saucers.
�Me, too,� I volunteered, taking out my hankie to dry his tear-streaked face.
The summer night had grown cool. I threw a blanket over him and drove back home to find him clothes. Turned out, he couldn�t walk so well. I helped him negotiate the stairs. He begged me not to send him home since it was almost morning.
Sunday afternoon when he awoke, he sucked me. I reciprocated several times. I stayed away from his man-pussy though, since he was obviously still quite sore.
I ordered pizza in for lunch and took him out to dinner. He took a real shine to me. I attributed that to Stockholm Syndrome. We chatted over dinner, and I unapologetically explained that I�d simply had my fun with him.
I saw at the bar once after that. He�d converted. We drank to that. I offered him a ride, but he declined a second visit my White Van.