O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Marine ROTC Cadet Kevin Tyler

by Glaucon55

I saw Kevin William Tyler II at the Law School library, researching his senior thesis on a rainy November night. It wasn't the first time I had followed him to a library on campus, or some other student haunt. Sometimes you see a guy, and you just can't get him out of your head. Something about the slope of his pecs, the way his nipples harden and jut, his casual smile, the length of his eyelashes, or maybe the sight of his naked and pale, muscled feet in flip-flops--so strong and yet so vulnerable. Some guys just capture your attention, and Kevin Tyler was one of those boys. He was in the Marine ROTC on the campus so he had an aura about him already. In my jerk-off fantasies, he was a tough shit with a cocky attitude, but shy in certain settings. Many a night I had shot streams of scum imagining that thick boned, hairy and handsome boy succumbing to my talented tongue and unruly fingers searching out any weaknesses he might have.

He had come that night to the Law Library with that military "I don't give a shit" look, those jutting pecs, short brown hair, a tight butt, and a quiet but manly swagger. Every person in the room knew it, could sense it. There were girls whose discreet stares suggested engorged clits and dripping pussies clenched tight between their thighs, dreaming of how his prick and his strong thighs might ream them endlessly into orgasmic oblivion. To them he was a fucking machine, a human dildo that they could make perform. And there were guys in the room whose peckers had stiffened, some not even knowing why, but who instinctively either wantee to dominate or be dominated by this little butch punk. His brown hair was moist from the walk to the library from a light rain that was falling outside. His pale forearms seemed a stark contrast to the damp, dark, t-shirt he had unveiled by removing his wet jacket. Best of all, he was a small guy. Now you know there's a whole fantasy associated with small guys in the first place. Like Leprechauns of sex, they seem to evoke images of perpetually hard, ravenously virile, and continuously horny little toads. Kevin was all of 5'8", and compact. In high school he had wrestled, and that small tight body had served him well. His jeans contained two round, bubbled cheeks--not conspicuous, but firm--that gave him the look of a small tail back from some hick town team. They were supported by thick legs and calves, tapering down to nicely formed and slender ankles and wide, pale--muscular and veined--feet. I'd seen him at a party in a pair of flip-flops, curling his thick, long toes, and exposing the soft, padded soles of his feet. My cock drooled from the thought of sucking them, and tickling the shit out of them. From the front his torso disclosed thickly muscled arms, a broad chest leading to a narrow waist, and coned nipples whose tips jutted out against the fabric of the cotton t-shirt. He was wearing walking boots that enclosed those small powerful feet in white cotto

I’d been admiring Kevin since the beginning of the semester. I met him through some buddies who played intra-mural basketball, and I made sure we ended up on the same team, the “Seamen From Uranus” (I know, nice pun). There were a bunch of chicks who’d hang out with us at the games we knew from the residence hall--all needy, and then we’d go to have pizza and beer after the games. Kevin was so easy, so smooth. When Audrey Simmons batted her coy eyes at him the first time, I knew from the knowing little smile he gave the rest of us guys that he was going to bang her from here to eternity in the near future. I could only imagine how his cock looked erect, sticky and glistening, and how it would shine with her juices as it sluiced up and down her cuntal trough, grazing her clit and screwing her pussy deep and hard as she squealed for more. When I jerked off in bed to that image and others of Kevin, my feet digging into the sheets as my fist slid up and down my stalk, I could hear him groan and see ropes of sperm rocketing from the tip of his bloated prong just as they squirted up and out of my own randy prick.

Sometimes when I followed him to the Library and saw him studying, his legs spread casually showing off that nice fat cock bulge, I imagined Audrey stroking her slender hands up and down his legs, making him go rock hard. The thought of her long, painted nails grazing his thick, erect cock stalk, making him helplessly horny for pussy he would get later, made me drip in my boxers. I was so fucking jealous of her, I could hardly stand it. I wanted that tight-assed ROTC cadet in my hands, and I was determined to figure a way to get into his jeans.

I can't recall how I got him into a conversation that night at the library--my thoughts were so clouded with lust it all seems like a blur. I do recall that he was so earnest, looking at me through blue eyes with long lashes, and that each time he spoke those moist, full lips of his seemed to draw me closer. Kevin was like so many small town boys, tough but sweetly dumb, not concerned with the broader world beyond. There were no conspiracies in the world of Kevin Tyler. He did not imagine that there were guys like me out there who fantasized about getting control of his perfect little body, in order to make it squeal for ejaculatory release in spite of his revulsion for queers and faggots. He and his high school buddies had gotten drunk on the weekends, talked pussy, and jerked off most of the time in the privacy of their bedrooms since they actually got so little cunt. That was the extent of their sophistication. Instead of fucking the cunt they craved, they worked their hard young bodies into perfection, hoping that someday they would get lucky and fuck till they dropped. They stood in front of mirrors in bulging jock straps and rally caps, admiring their beautiful bodies and dreaming of the day some cunt would lick them from head to toe. They were the kind of boys that someone with cunning could take control of. The right man could supervise their activities, and maybe their hard cocks. As I spoke to Kevin, I saw him gagged and bound, his hairy little ass up in the air before my face, waiting for me to force my tongue between the taut cheeks to tickle his virgin, hairy pucker. I wanted to fuck his throat with my tongue as I watched his lips move while he spoke to me at the library, and my prick got hard as I thought of other things I could get into his mouth. But all he was doing was casting that perfect smile that he shared with everybody. After all, we knew each other, and played hoops together. He could not know that I was staining my boxers with the thought of gripping one of those lusciou

He was working on a research project for someone on the nearby base as part of his military science coursework, and I offered to help him. I can write, and Kevin---well he could fuck. It was a perfect combination, and I had a sense my skills would overcome his. We talked after we'd retrieved the materials he needed, and as the library was about to close, I took a chance and asked him if he like to come over to my apartment for a beer where I could offer his more assistance. After all, we’d sipped a few after games, why wouldn’t he come with me?

That's how he ended up coming back to my apartment about 10pm, his back-pack slung over his shoulder. We shot the shit about sports like guys usually do, how the football team would do in the fall and all that crap, and the beers made things more and more relaxed as the time passed. As usual, with guys like Kevin, the talk turned to sex as the beer loosened him up. We were joking about how a Friday night found us both at the Library, rather than trying to bag chicks for some relief. He blushed when I talked about reaming my cock into something wet and tight, and lowered those long lashes when I spoke about being desperately horny and without cunt for weeks. I pressed, "shit you probably get some from Audrey every night...I see the way looks at you..., like she can’t wait to get you back to her apartment. You’re a lucky dog, I’m just humping the table legs while you’re getting cunt.”

He laughed, "yeah, Audrey’s a sweet piece, but she’s insatiable" he groaned in fake pain. “Just so I could get this fuckin’ project done, I told her we’d have to hold off for a while. Now I'm the one who has blue balls"...a sexy grin curled the corners of his mouth and those full, sensual lips. "Seems like the best I can do these past two weeks with all my classes and ROTC is just grip my dick and give it some five-fingered relief...not like something I could bang till tomorrow, but jeez, a guy can't be a fucking munk...." The way he said it, was like a drug....those eyes batting shyly, his cheeks turning red from his own remarks, and the little boy smile on that big boy body.

As the conversation went on and I kept up our supply of beer, more and more about Kevin came out from his slurring voice. He may have been an innocent, but he'd had some pretty damn fucking interesting times. As we drank he confessed that this wasn't the first time he'd "been on the rag" with a chick. In high school he'd gone to confession one Saturday during his senior year after a turn of conscience. He'd screwed a freshman cheerleader after getting drunk at a football post game party, and he'd found out she was a virgin. Father listened to him patiently as he asked for forgiveness, and confessed that he'd committed a mortal sin. But then the priest began to ask little questions. "What was it about her flesh that made you commit sin?"
"What did you do?" "Did you enjoy her flesh…tell me how?" As Kevin awkwardly confessed to the priest, he felt more and more strange. Somehow he had answered that he had licked her cunt, sucked her clit, and fingered her to a cum. He was sweating as he explained that yes, she had sucked his prick…he couldn't stop her…she was like a starving person, desperate for his meat. When he answered that he had shot cum into her mouth, his prick had stiffened.

I realized I couldn't miss the chance. I had scored some roofies from one of the guys, and he’d claimed that when he and his chick had used them, they’d both felt like they were high and horny. If I could mix them with the Red Bull I had in the refrigerator, maybe I could get into the tight white briefs that I envisioned under Kevin's jeans. I’d tried the roofies out a week earlier at a dance club in the City, getting this preppie punk from the college across town to slip out with me as the place was closing down and he’d failed to bag a chick for the night. It had worked like a charm, and by the time I got the punk back to his car, I was able to get his pants and briefs to his ankles, and his 6.5 inch prong down my throat. He was so out of it, I was even able to get a hand up to his pecs, under his shirt, and roll his tits as I sucked. By the time I slipped a finger between his tight ass cheeks and tickled his anal knot, the kid was shooting streams of slime down my hungry throat. I was even able to score an encore, the kid was so wasted…but the Red Bull kept him going. I figured after that success, I’d try them out on Kevin, and see how far I could go. I popped a couple into his next drink, Red Bull and vodka, when he hit the bathroom and the sound of his piss stream filled the apartment. He acted none the wise, and smoothly transitioned to the hard liquor as our talk about tits and pussy proceeded, swilling the cocktail as we shot the shit.

As his eyes glazed and his tits seemed to harden, I made my move. After some bragging about how many times we had each cum on a given night, I turned with feigned and excited suruprise and said: "Hey, I gotta porn flick; used it to keep my former fuck hot before we'd screw, wanta check it out." His face had begun to get a goofy expression, and he said sure in a sloppy voice. My dick lurched in my pants, getting full of blood and that itchy feeling around the knob. His motions began to get imprecise, and it seemed like his cock bulge got a bit fatter.

I thought about the kid I’d bagged the other night at that dance club. He was a freckled red head, with bright red hair and strawberry fur all over his arms, down his neckline, and I assumed places south. He was long and lanky, and the big knuckles and long, thick fingers made me want to grab his hand and start to suck them till he fainted from the sensation. But since I didn't want to get a black eye or broken nose, I bought him drinks while he struck out with a brunette he'd been cruising the whole night. She went out with a beefy blond, and our boy could only smile a rueful smile, and slur out some cuss words about how his nuts ached and he needed to get laid. It was late, and the place was beginning to clear out, so I offered to help him find his car in the lot, and by the time we got to it, he was stoned from the 'mickey' I'd slipped him in his last drink of the night.

I'd helped him into the driver’s seat, and offered to put the key in the ignition when he dropped them the first time, and couldn’t hit the hole the second. I told him to move over, and he acted like it must be ok since I seemed to know what I was doing. Then I got in driver seat of his SUV, and within a couple minutes we were parked in the darkest corner of the roof of the garage. By the time I undid my seat belt, he was slouched down in his seat. I slipped my hand over to his crotch and found his shaft, thick and soft under his chionos. I began to roll my palm back and forth, and within seconds, his prong responded by stiffening, the blood slowly filling the thick tube and bloating the rubbery knob. I reached up with my free hand, and started to pinch and twist his tits through his t-shirt, and like a good little dog, he thrust his chest out to my worrying, prying fingers. In minutes I had his chinos at his hairy ankles and my mouth slurping up and down his pale white shaft, my tongue lashing his fat, drooling fuck tip. It seemed like he wanted to push me away, sensing that it was not the brunette that was slobbering up and down his nine-inch stalk. But his grunting and groaning revealed just how good it felt when my tongue curled around his prick knob, and I hollowed my cheeks to vacuum the tingling fat glans. That’s when I slipped my hand up under his shirt, and found the rubbery nubs of his tits, twisting them as I sucked voraciously, vacuuming his prong head, and making him hunch from the excruciating suck.

When I slipped my free hand under his balls and trailed a finger to the entrance of his hairy anus, the little fuck shoved his ass up and his prick deep into my throat hoping to evade my probing digit. But I managed to worm my fuck finger into the hairy portal, and tickled just inside his virgin boy cunt. That's when he lost control of his fat knobbed dick, and shot wads of tangy spooge into my mouth, while I basted his bulging prick head over and over with my tongue. He whined as my index finger twisted a bit further, and he cock tip swelled from the incessant sucking and licking it was receiving. I knew the kid didn’t know me from Adam, and we probably wouldn’t see each other again…even if he could remember what happened to him. Since we were in a dark corner of the garage, on the top level, and I knew we would not be disturbed, I figured this was my jackpot for a night of patiently listening to his stupid cunt talk.

So after his first cum, I actually stripped him down completely in his own car and tied his arms over his head, and his legs apart. Then I sucked and tickled every inch of his body, from his pale, strong toes, to his soft sweet ears. I suckled his tits, jerked his dick back to erection, and then slipped my moistened finger all the way up his bung while I jerked him to another ejaculation. I scratched his nuts, tickled his pits, and watched as his long toes curled each time my sliding fist roiled over the bloated head of his aching prick, then slowly spiraled down the healthy, shamelessly hard, boy cock. When he finally came, after twenty minutes of slow fist work, I palmed his prick knob in my callused grip, torquing my palm round the spasming glans, milking him as he hunched and squealed, struggling to avoid my insistent massage and I suckled his near tit. After I untied him, I left him in the driver’s seat, with a blanket thrown over his sweat-sheened body, his cock still dripping sperm from the wide piss lips onto his stomach. God, what a fucking piece of meat.

These thoughts crossed my mind as Kevin and I watched the porn. I could see that his jeans now bulged from a horny erection, and that like the punk at the dance club he'd slid down on the seat and spread his legs. In my mind's eye, I saw those jeans tangled around his ankles and my finger rooted up his asshole as his prick strained helplessly into the air, flinging drops of pre-fuck right and left. The time had passed so quickly, it seemed like midnight had arrived in ten minutes. When I asked if he liked muff diving, while we watched some big dicked boy thrusting his tongue up from underneath the grinding hips of a beautiful blond in the film, his eyes seemed glued to the tube, his tongue licking his own lips salaciously, a hand casually rubbing back and forth across his straining erection. He was a drugged, nasty boy with an insatiable cock lust that needed my careful supervision.

The view from the film was from up between the guys legs, and his hairy crack, big hanging balls, and taut pecker filled the lower portion of the screen and his thrusting tongue, sliding into the wet snatch pouting from above, filled the other half. The guy seemed like a lizzard, the way his long tongue slipped up into the chick's muff, and lapped around her hard little clit. She squealed each time his licker scoured her button, and his own dick was drooling a long stream of pre-jizz down the hairy, thick stalk. I got the sense that my college Marine punk, now stoned from the rophy, was turned on by both the tongue pronged pussy, and the hefty pole bobbing on the screen. The more the big-dicked guy munched on the fine blond that he was eating, the harder his dick got and it seemed the harder and more horny Kevin got. The actor’s fuck talk about liking to lick pussy, and the way the chick groaned each time his tongue slid up her slit to her clit, seemed to make Kevin more turned on. He began to slide down further on the couch, his crotch bulging obscenely from the painfully constrained boner thrusting against his briefs and trapped in the tight jeans. When the chick suddenly swung around and popped the dude's wide dick knob into her mouth, warming him up with a 69 and making him grunt with satisfaction, Kevin’s eyes closed and his head lolled---a slight groan coming from his lips.

It was time to strike, and I needed to distract the already dizzy, horny Marine trash so I could give him an excuse to let me manhandle him. “Man, Kev, now you should see how the dude’s pole is sluicing up the cunt’s hole…she’s dripping juice like a faucet, and his cock ridge is reaming her hairy twat lips. Man, she needs it bad…and this dude is gonna give her the fuck of her life…yeah….” As I talked, I let my palm reach over and close over Kevin Tyler's near leg. He tensed, the muscles cording...but his eyes did not open. He just groaned again, and he let my grip hold him in place. He moaned again, flexing his leg into my strong fist. We were off and running, and Kevin was about to surrender to a session that would make him cum harder than the porn star we’d been watching.

I pressed him with fuck talk, trying to keep him from concentrating on my grip on his leg. The scene had switched back to the chick giving the dude in the film a blow job to eternity, and I wanted to capitalize on what Kevin needed bad. "What'ya think about her fucking mouth...shit, she can swallow a log. Look at the way she's got him slick and sloppy, and how about her long nails scratching at his hairy butt hole...keeping him in place while she sucks the scum outta him....Fuck...he's gotta blow a load soon...man that makes me drip!" As I spoke, I began to move my palm back and forth over his strong leg. Kevin, just drank in my gutter talk while my palm squeezed his leg more and more boldly, slowly moving up to his crotch, and brushing against his overheated nuts outlined in the tight crutch of the jeans. I saw a wet spot up toward his waist where his pole must have slipped from beneath his briefs, and was drooling against the rough denim. Unconsciously, Kevin began to open and close his legs, especially when my fingers grazed against his nuts.

Later, as the guy's long dick plunged in and out of the redhead's wet pussy, I almost poured a glass of brandy down Kevin's mouth. I had a knee between his legs, and his arms were draped over the back of the sofa. I tilted his head back and slowly brought the glass to his lips, and when he finally opened his mouth, poured the shit in while my free hand rolled one of his tits through his t-shirt. He let me hold the glass, and I wouldn't let him get much air--plus the way my index finger and thumb worked his tit nub, he could hardly focus. Then my palm slid down his chest, to reach into his bulging crotch and work openly over the wet spot on his jeans where his fat knob drooled lube and had soaked through his briefs. As the guy in the vid blasted cum over the girls tits, and her hands tortured the fat knob of his spurting prick, I slipped my hands under the edge of Kevin t-shirt. He was so stoned, he hardly noticed as I slid my palm up to the sloping curve of his taut pec, flicking my thumb over and around the rubbery tit that thrust up to meet my fingers. Kevin's eyes screwed tight into a grimace from the sweet sensation, and his hips slid down the couch even more, leaving his ass at the edge, and his fat boner curled full and hard up to the edge of his waistline. I could see how the wide prong tip pushed his jeans away from his stomach, revealing a deep piss well full of sticky pre-sap.

After he swilled down the last of the brandy, his head lolled back against the seat of the couch, and his eyes closed as if he were asleep--but I knew better. I pulled up his t-shirt to his neck, exposing the hairy chest, and gazed at the brown hair between his pecs curled around each pink cone. I lowered my lips to lick the first of his taut titties as it arced up from the mounded pectoral. When my hot salacious tongue and wet lips closed around his teat he groaned for real and lifted his hips in conjunction with the "awwwwww fucccccckkk" that slipped from his lips. Boys and their tits…I had this little fuck meat, and I was going to work him for a whole night for my pleasure. My tongue lashed his suckable nipples, first one rubbery cone then the other, and one hand reached down to ground his boner still trapped in his jeans, trying to keep his hips from getting up too much steam as his sensitive knob scrubbed against the cotton briefs. Jesus, straight guys look so sexy when they loll their heads back on the fucking sofa, and splay their hands and legs apart so you can turn 'em into the little sex pigs they long to be.

By 12:30 a.m., his arms were secured together over his head, and the rope was attached behind the sofa to the frame. I got down on the floor between his legs, and reached up with one hand to keep his tits primed, gently pinching and twisting them, while I undid each button of his fly. Each time I rolled a tit, he would raise one of his legs defensively from the intensity of the sensation, and I had to use my other hand to push it down so I could continue opening his jeans. I worked slowly, taking time to rub his dramatically curved hose from root to knob, still trapped in the jeans, with my fingertips. His cock tip--slick and sticky, jutting up past the waist of his briefs, was making a larger and larger wet spot on the coarse, blue denim waistband. I scratched my nails over and around the knob as he ground his hips to get more get relief for that fat knob that was wider than the rest of the dong. How do they make these little guys with 7" fuck sticks, and fucking huge knobs? The curve of his cock forced the white cotton briefs to bulge obscenely, thrust up and taut in the binding material trying to burst from the partially opened fly.

Once I had his jeans completely unbuttoned I pushed the jeans down his thick thighs and hairy calves until they tangled at his feet. Now it wasn't easy to lift his legs. So I reached up and I tickled Kevin’s arm pits one at a time, scratching my nails into the deep, wet pits, tugging at the hairy tufts, and probing the well. He whined and grunted, squealing when I touched the sensitive interiors and raked my fingernails through his thick wool. Then when I made a joint attack on both pits, he howled and raised his ass off the couch, forcing the huge, wet boner up from his stomach where it soon returned with a splat. The next time he lifted his ass from my wriggling fingers in his pits, I quickly slid one hand down between his thighs, and let my index finger slide between his sweaty, hairy buns.

You should have seen those legs, covered in a curly light brown hair, almost a blond fur curling from his crotchband down to his sock tops. I lowered my face to the heavily muscled, thighs and stuck out my tongue to lick the thick hairs just inside his left kneecap. He jumped again, and I had to grasp his thighs and force them down so my lips and tongue could chew and lick up his inner thighs and on the inside of his knees. Each time I suckled the tender skin, his strong hairy thighs snapped together reflexively, and tried to trap my head from going higher. But when I would pluck his tits, the shift in erotic sensation would cause them to splay again, and I could lick a bit further toward his damp, dank balls that hung down to the sofa between his leg---reeking of the starchy sperm that had been collecting for several days.

His thighs continued to try to shut against the ticklish touch of my lips and tongue, but I forced them apart and kept rolling and pinching his tits firmly enough to make him lose his concentration. Each time I twisted them, I was rewarded with a sweet grunt or groan.
”Aaaaaagggggghhhh…. Nnnoooo…uuuuuggghhhhhh…” and the same happened when my fingernail scratched across the wide helmet of his rigid prick knob. When I had him hotter than a pistol and still drugged up, I paused to pull off his size nine walkers and sweat damp socks and pulled his jeans off of one foot. Then I tied his meaty feet to the hidden brackets at the ends of the heavy oversized oak coffee table in front of the sofa and behind me. Those feet were pale and strong, covered in veins, and hair sprouted down to ankles and on his toe tops. Now he was spread wide, with his hips poised just over the edge of the couch and his back slumped down. I used a firm pillow bolster to support and lift his back forcing his chest up and out, and to stretch his tight abdominal muscles before me---exposing his deep, hairy navel. With his briefs and jeans off his ankles before I secured his feet, so I would have no obstacles, I was ready to train this Marine to perform tricks and shoot spunk.

I moved up onto the couch from the floor and fastened my lips on his right pec nursing on his sensitive coned nipple, suckling the erect teat and lashing it with my slurping tongue. He thrust his chest up to my slavering lips and insistent tongue, and I reached across to the free titty to tweak it, and scratch my fingernail over the erectile tissue. He groaned from the sweet sensation of his tits being suckled and twirled…."uuuuuuggggggghhhh…fuck…..yeeaaaaahhh, oh fuck…my tits….aaaaaahhhhhhhh shit….oooooooohhhhhh." I watched as perspiration dripped from his exposed armpits down the sides of his ribcage. Still he smelled more of his Old Spice deodorant and Irish Spring soap, than anything else…he was a clean, sweet morsel with a tight body that I was about to devour. With my free hand I began a slow and deliberate search between his thick thighs, and under his sweaty, heavy balls. I rooted around under the hairy nut sack draped down from his crotch and resting on the sofa, and finally reached his nether portal through the wedge of coarse, light brown hair that overflowed and clogged his ass crack. Jesus I love a hairy asshole. Yeah, sure you gotta keep 'em clean, but the testosterone that oozes from the sight of a hairy ass, and the joy of searching through it to a boy's most protected gate…fuck, I couldn't wait to get my finger lodged up this butt.

My little Marine ROTC punk had a trench full of light brown hair that got dark at the point of his cunt lips, hiding and protecting his shit hole from the prying eyes and unwanted insertions of foreign objects. Even his doctor had to part the hair to find his pucker for the Marine's routine prostate exams…which made his toes curl tight and his dick burp the needed pre-scum. I learned later that the campus doctor seemed to enjoy making his prick go hard during these exams, and had once even made him ejaculate from the incredible sensation, much to his embarrassment. He now tried to escape my insistent advances, lifting his ass off the sofa, then grinding it back down when my ragged nail hit pay dirt and scraped across the tightly clenched knot of his asshole pucker. Once again he squeezed the hairy cheeks of his strong ass muscles, working hard to snap my finger, or at least block the irritating probe that made his tits get achey stiff. I tickled and scratched at the taut little lips, pink and clean behind his gripping cheeks, while my tongue lashed his tits and my teeth nibbled on the rigid little cones.

The combination of my nipple work, and the persistent fingering made me successful in getting my single minded digit into his anus. I made sure not to hurt him, as my goal was his surrender. I wanted his domination, his anal finger rape, to be the result of his loss of control and surrender to the irresistible intrusion of my skillful fuck finger into his horny fundament. His resistance to having his last portal of manhood broached was strong, but my determination to make him succumb to the delicious agony of a prostate rub was greater. I knew I had a trick though that might get me to the goal. While still sucking on his rosy titties, all hard and rubbery from my lashing tongue, I used my free hand to probe his deep navel. Christ I love playing with boys’ navels. It’s one of those places like tender feet, exposed palms, inside ears, on an Adam’s apple, or an anus that boys can’t control and don’t expect anyone to touch. By drilling my index finger into the well of his deep navel, the strong ab muscles went rigid, and he broke out into peals of uncontrolled laughter: “hahahahahahahahahahhhhhhhaaaaaaa…!” As he shrieked, his ass mucles slackened and I patiently wormed a well greased index finger through his slightly sweating ass cheeks and the suddenly slack and pouching anus. The tender pulsing asslips seemed to invite the breach, and soon my callused, blunt finger was lightly probing his prostate like a doctor making an examination. As I corkscrewed my one index finger into his navel, using my fingernail to scratch and probe the sensitive lining, I gently corkscrewed and drilled the other carefully and slowly into the hot furnace of his asshole. Fuck, I had him skewered on both sides of that little tight body…his toes curled and his hands scrabbling as he gasped for breath from laughing, and grunted from the sweet ache that now filled his virgin pucker.

I took whatever he would give each time I suckled his tit, gave it a little nip, or tickled his navel, causing him to lose a bit more of the muscular control of his sphincter. My finger was uncomfortable for him, but it was not painful since I was careful and let his anal tract grow accustomed to my wriggling inspection. Yeah, I had him squirming on my fuck finger in no time, rotating his hips, while I continued to nurse his whorish titty. His throbbing schlong drooled helplessly, pulsing without relief and burping more and more sap; his hands reaching helplessly behind him and his toes clenched tight in a futile effort to squeeze my finger from his fuck hole. When I finally decided to focus on his hard little fuck nut, deep up his trench, Kevin’s legs stretched out in shock, and his head snapped back and forth…his groans getting louder: “Aaaaawwwwwww nnnnnnnooooooo, oh no…stop, ooohhh …..aaaaaaaeeeeeeeiiiiiii!”

I decided to find out if I had what I was looking for in this college jarhead. So I just rubbed and massaged his firm prostate with my insistent index finger, while I moved my lips up to his right ear in order to lave it with my tongue. Ears, one of those places most straight guys can’t stand having probed by tickling fingers or slick tongues. I thrust my licker into Kevin’s sweet little ear, and gave it the kind of treatment some of his girlfriends had given him to get him hot and bothered. His head twisted one way then the other hoping to avoid my determined attack, but he could not protect his sensitive ear shell from my worming tongue, and combined with another distraction focused on his far tit, I had the big dicked meathead panting and bobbing with lust. I reached under his back with my free hand to gain access to and roll his far tit. The rubbery nubbin poked up like the cheap whore it was, reaching out to my scratching fingernail, and rough finger pads, as they rolled and scrubbed its firm, little tip. All this was an effort to jerk him off without touching his dick. It worked! While he wriggled to avoid my constant stimulation of his aching prostate, and bucked his ass up and down trying to both escape and exquisitely fuck my rooting digit, his thick curved cock went rigid up against his stomach. The fat knob expanded obscenely, its surface going as smooth as glass as it bloated--the drooling piss lips opening wide. Kevin had become a fat knobbed prick, and in his bonerdom, he was about to spit wads and wads of fuck snot, thick tangy sperm, from his overwrought balls.

"AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH!...OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH" he crooned as his hips plunged up and down, and sideways, still vainly trying to get free from my finger and yet stimulate his fuck hungry sweet spot. In an instant his body went rigid, bowing up from the sofa and screwing round on my wriggling finger. His firm chest thrust up, the rubbery teats like little diamond chips protruding from his arced pectorals. His thick, hairy thighs went rigid. The intense aching pressure, deep up his ass was too much. He couldn't get away, he'd never been so helpless; my little Marine ROTC cadet was way out of control like hard dicked spunk filled boys can get. His nipples thrust out to my fingertips as I scraped my nail across the far one, and as I pinched and pulled it gently. In the meantime, my tongue was wriggling deep in his ear, laving out the sensitive interior shell, and making him buck from the delicious sensation. He couldn't take this stimulation any more. The days of pent up gism, the hard muscled and horny, deprived jock punk body, the drooling, pulsing prick, all merged to bring him to the edge of a desperately needed teenage cum. I focused on the obscenely expanding knob of his prick, bulging to its maximum. Suddenly he let loose,:
"AAAAAAEEEEEEIIIIII... AAAAGGGGHHHH!" The hapless little fuck head's meat swelled into a rigid cudgel, vibrating like a tuning fork as it began to spit. Streams of sticky gism bolted up from the split piss lips, up to his pecs and face, and onto his stomach, the couch and me. Jesus, it was a beautiful geyser, the room filled with the starchy, bleach scent of cum. His fat knob was desperate for some soothing contact, but was only able to blast the cum without assistance, squirting and squirting shot after thick shot.

I finally got to see what Audrey felt as Kevin's scum blasted up her hole after a good long fuck! I could envision his strong young hips driving that rigid, fat knobbed prong into her clinging cunt, his hard nipples grazing her own rubbery tits, his ass and heels driving his insatiable prick into the wet, clinging cavern. Jeeezus…this little fire plug was balls full of spunk, so horny and juice filled that his prick couldn’t stop shooting, his oversized and swollen knob itching intensely as it burped the sperm everywhere. His small, perfectly formed little body was straining to free from its bondage, but his glazed and drunken condition just made him squirm and shoot, unable to focus clearly on the massive ejaculation.

After nine long spurts of sticky scum, he drooled the rest, still twisting to avoid the uncomfortably irritating tickle and feeling of being stuffed well up inside his butt. I leaned over him, and using my tongue like a cat, licked him clean of the thick tangy sperm, finally swallowing just the oversensitive head of his prick in my vacuuming mouth. He begged me in slurred words to stop..."too sensitive" he whined, but the continuing rigid expanse of his glans told me he craved his prick tip being laved. So I kept sucking and licking while pinching those still hard and now painfully sensitive little titties, making them almost burn from my touch in spite of the lubrication I had on my spit wet fingers. Holding the still rigid prong up from his stomach, I let my tongue swirl round and round his over-wrought fuck tip, and in another fifteen minutes of relentless sucking, I could see he had another cum churning in his sweaty balls. It was time to give him more liquor laced with the rophy to keep him subdued and go on to the next stage of Kevin’s work out.

I have two hooks in the ceiling of the living room of my apartment with a bar that suspends from the roof if I lower it. My friends think that I use it for exercise, chin-ups, and stuff. But in fact, this is where some of my best work on big boys is done…drunk or playing drunk, maybe slightly drugged like Kevin, who get trussed onto my trapeze bar. I loosened Kevin’s feet from the coffee table. Then I lifted and fastened each one to a soft-lined cuff that was attached to the ends of the bar. As I worked, I thought back to a night I'd had with a young business-man I'd picked up at a hotel bar almost a year ago. His driver's license said he was twenty-six, and I learned he was in his first real position of responsibility in the banking business. He and his colleagues had gone out to dinner after a day of conferencing, and he'd gotten drunk as a skunk. Once back at the hotel, he'd stopped into the bar for one more, and I happened to be there looking for someone like him for a night's entertainment. I made sure he was completely smashed before I persuaded him to come back to my apartment to meet my "girlfriend and her sister." The salacious tales I had told him coupled with the alcohol made him throw caution to the wind, and he staggered out with me to my SUV. Needless to say, once I got him back to my apartment he spent a long night trussed up on my couch, his legs tethered to the harness hanging from the ceiling. As I recall he had a splendid little vibrating prong secured up his asshole and around his waist to keep it in place as I milked him three times that night. He had one of those cocks that was wider at the base, than at the head, but his entire cock curved up and the head was thick and blunt. I used batting gloves with lube on him as my fist rolled up and over his throbbing erection. He howled into a gag I had carefully secured around his head, but that young man performed like a champ, blasting healthy loads of gism from his hairy testicles. I finally used some chloroform to knock him out,

As I manacled Kevin's feet into the cuffs, I focused on his beautiful size nine feet.

Boy’s feet are so different from girl’s. Girl’s rely on their small, generally dainty feet, usually narrow to capture attention from straight men. They know that a delicate ankle and a high arched foot with small toes will make some guys spring a boner immediately. But by contrast, boys don't pay much attention to their feet. Oh yeah, there's the old adage that men with big feet have big dicks, but men themselves don't notice the feet of other guys or make much of a fuss over them. You know, the typical, guy's feet are gross, big old boats that are sweaty and stink. But if you appreciate male feet, you know they can have a beauty all their own. Boys walking in flip flops, those big, pale vulnerable feet exposed. See the long, thick toes. Watch the way the feet pronate, exposing the meaty, high arches. Then there are those strong ankles and narrow heels. These feet that work so hard on the fields and courts, can seem so vulnerable.

Somehow you can imagine these big strong boys, and their athletic, muscular feet, absolutely at your mercy, helpless before scrabbling fingers and jagged fingernails. Desperate to escape from the wriggling digits that will reduce them to paroxysms of howling laughter, and to lose control of asshole, prick and cum. You'll see guys drying their big feet in the lockerroom, and casually rubbing between the thick toes, hardly understanding that they are potentially so sensitive and sexual. In my estimation of course the feet themselves are works of art. Boys with wide balls, narrow heels, high arches and long, thick toes are my favorites. You want veins that show their strength from hours of exertion, muscular insteps and for some, even hair on those big toes. Kevin’s big boy feet were perfect. Years of playing sports and working out had fashioned feet any little jock would be proud to own. His narrow heels and ankles gave way to a wide flare as the foot proceeded towards the toes. His toes were long for a boy his size, and gently curved inward toward his big toe. His index toes were longer than his big toes, and his big toes, index toes and even the next two had little sprouts of hair at the first joint. Some people are lucky not to develop harsh calluses on their feet, and Kevin was one of them. The soles of his feet were smooth and soft, and had the clean scent of his sweat, no unpleasant or raunchy smell. I knew that I would be sucking and tickling these beauts before the night was over, because this is another of the male pressure points, a place where he could not control the sensation and was unaccustomed to anyone touching him there. Many big men surrender when their toes are tickled, suckled, or fondled. I sensed that Kevin was one, and I was not disappointed upon further investigation.

After I had his legs trussed up and back towards his chest, and spread, I placed the bolster pillow under his lower back to support him and make sure his furry little ass trench was spread open for my uninterrupted investigation. His position and the firm connection of his feet to the bar kept him from moving from this position. Just to warm him up, I used the fingers of one hand to tickle the pale, soft soles of his feet, and let my other hand scrabble across his firm abs and under his stretched arm pits to distract him for a couple of minutes. He howled in spite of his drugged condition, shrieking at times and begging for me to stop…and yet between these yelps were deep groans as his cock burped more and more strings of clear lube. I watched his hands and toes wriggle desperately, frantiacally trying to escape attentions. I knew that this tickling would make his skin sensitive to the touch, and allow for even more fun in a few minutes.

Next, I wheeled up a short cart made of strong plastic. On the top, I had fastened a wooden shelf that served as a counter top. I had bolted a contraption I’d devised for naughty boys in which a socket that could be screwed open and closed was able to accommodate various dildoes. I slipped in a short, slender one (not more than four inches), on which I had glued a sleeve of short-haired boar bristles about a quarter-inch in length, that had been treated in oil to keep them pliant and soft. At the same time, the treatment caused them to stand up perpendicular from the shaft with the effect of making them irritating. I lubed the bristles again, and then aimed the slender knobby head towards Kevin’s hairy boy pucker. Was he in for a surprise. I reached up and began to roll his tits again, making the rubbery cones stiff and sensitive. In that moment’s distraction, I gently twisted the head of the dildo into his clenched, hairy port, making sure not to yank or pull his ass hairs. He immediately tried to squeeze his butt cheeks to expel the invader, but there was no hope. With sure intent, I gradually screwed the wicked bristle vibrator up into his asshole. I left it motionless for five minutes to let him grow accustomed to it. Instead, he just grunted and groaned as the prickly bristles made contact with his delicate anal lining with even the slightest movement. He ground his ass back and forth, and of course the knobby tip, densely packed with the bristles, brushed back and forth against his tender prostate. He moaned and pleaded for me to take it out…that I should stop fucking take it out…but he was helpless to make me do so. Plus, his fat prong was as firm as ever, the big knob still drooling its clear indication that his id still liked having his body torqued into mandatory ejaculations.

Now we were ready. I picked up a soft bristled toothbrush in both hands, and then quickly flicked on the switch of the bristle vibrator. The soft hum of the buzzing vibrator at its lowest speed emanated from between Kevin’s strong glutes, and as the vibrator buzzed, I turned another switch that made the socket on the platform rotate randomly at a slow, gentle speed, and of course moved the vibrator with it. Kevin’s eyes went wide, his mouth opened, and all he could do was gasp and grunt…”AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH ….OOOOOOOOHHHHHH NNNNOOOO!” he wheezed. His eyes rolled, and his ass muscles clenched helplessly. The wicked sensation deep in his fundament was hard to describe. He squealed from the unaccustomed massage of his healthy young prostate. The tantalizing bristles were flicking the interior lining of his ass and scrabbling across the delicate nut of his prostate along with the knobby head of the dildo. My bubble-butt Marine cadet squeezed his fingers and toes tight, struggling to avoid the awful tickling deep up his ass, but he couldn’t. And at that moment, I went to using the two tooth brushes, gently scraping their soft bristles against his abdominal muscles, into his navel, across his pebbled and rubbery tits, even against his Adam’s apple, under his nose, into his ears, across his palms and of course, up and down those pale, muscular feet. He howled now as he groaned and grunted from the incredible sensations covering his taut little body. I spent twenty minutes working him up and down, and never letting him get close to the ejaculation that was bubbling in his balls. Instead, his prick was basting in a pool of pre-jizz, making the rosy glans sticky and itchy, occasionally expanding from the horrible sensations up his asshole, but not enough to push him over the edge.

Finally, I pulled out another wonderful device, a platform not more that three feet long, and six inches wide, with two legs that allowed it to be suspended over the crotch of a lust bound male. On the small platform was a scooped stainless steel trough not more than three inches wide and beveled. The trough was mounted up at an angle to allow an erect prick to rest in it’s curved surface, and hold the cock up from the stomach of some well tethered and hapless captive. The fat glans penis was above the end of the trough, so that the whole sensitive prick knob, with its wide flange and circumcision scar was fully exposed. Putting down the regular toothbrush, I slipped on three finger massagers advertised often on television. The only difference is that mine have tips lined with the same fine boar bristles that were currently churning ruthlessly in Kevin’s virgin ass. I switched on the finger massagers, and went to work on Kev’s sticky knob. Jesus, did that boy howl.
“AAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEE …NNNNOOOOO, NOT MY PRICK…AAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE….TOOOOO SENSITIVE! …AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH… SSSTTTTOOOOPPP …NNOOO!!" But with the toothbrush in my other hand slipping up and down those muscular insteps, and the vibrator working its magic on his fuck nut…Kevin was lost. In fifteen seconds, he shot stream after stream of boy milk out of his throbbing prick lips…and my bristlely fingers just kept screwing round and round his traumatized prick cap, making him strain futilely to close his knees and protect his cock…ah, what a sight!

Later that night, after I pouring more alcohol down his throat and using amyl nitrate to compliment the rophy, I hauled him into my bedroom. There I gagged him and tied his legs over his head to the place where his hands were secured in cuffs at the top of my bed. I put a pillow under his butt to support his back and raise his ass, then pulled out another thin bristle dildoe vibrator I keep for special occasions. This one also has bumps and ridges that spin in small sockets on the vibrator itself, working independently. His eyes remain glazed through his drunken haze, and yet his ass lips puckered as if desperate for some attention when I put the tip of my finger on them. I later learned that he had never had anything in his ass except a doctor’s finger and an enema he’d received from his mother when he was twelve and constipated. His hard little cock had ejaculated from the enema, and though his mother said nothing, he was so embarrassed that he let nothing close to his overly sensitive asshole again.

I spent ten minutes, tickling his hairy ass pucker, making the lips open unconsciously to invite my irritating finger that loosened him up again for the vibrator. First I took a wonderful little suppository that I had gotten from a buddy who’d bought some when he visited Mexico on his junior year abroad trip last year. He’d seen one slipped into a teenage girl’s ass and pussy, and she’d gone almost mad, letting the on-stage male who was torturing her for the audience, use various dildoes to wring eight straight orgasms from her sticky wet cunt and throbbing clit. He said the suppository was made with a beetle from the Mexican desert that when dried and crushed became an irritant that no one could resist. Using a slender medical rubber glove, I took just a small portion of the suppository and after greasing Kevin’s hairy ass pucker with lube and making sure his anal canal was warm and wet, I slipped the wicked piece of the suppository deep up his anal trench. When his toes suddenly clenched, and his cock burped a huge slug of clear pre-sap, I knew the horrendous itch was driving my now gagged college Marine punk into oblivion.

I slipped the dildoe in a fixed retainer anchored on a platform that goes across my bed and is secured to the frame. Only this retainer socket is anchored by flexible springs that allow it to move in any direction. Then I slowly slid its four inch length, with ridges and bumps all covered with short, pliant bristles of horse hair projecting from it, down into Kevin’s completely exposed and feverishly twitching hairy asshole. As the knobby end approached his hairy pucker, his toes clenched tightly and then stretched, as if as I approached he could sense what he was going feel before it happened. I used a lubricate to baste the dildo and makes its entrance easier for my ROTC captive. Kevin's eyes first widened in stunned surprise as he looked up between his legs to see the hairy dildo approaching his vulnerable asshole. Then they rolled in ecstasy, as I gently screwed the dildoe into his spasming hole, making sure not to hurt him. The boar’s hairs itched his tender lining again, by now inflamed by the melted suppository, and finally reached his anal nut, scratching the thing as he rolled his hips to try and soothe the incredible itch.

When he was stuffed full, his eyes screwed shut. He tried to keep his hips perfectly still so that the horsehairs would not irritate the lining of his ass, nor the stiff bristles on the knob scrub his prostrate. But the suppository worked its wicked magic. Within seconds, his ass involuntarily jerked, and then once in motion, though restrained, his hips moved back and forth to get relief from the incessant itching and brushing of his prostrate. The flexible retainer for the dildo allowed it to move with Kevin’s twitching legs, preventing him from getting any relief from the relentless scratching deep up his fundament. I didn’t help matter any, because I then switched on the vibrator to its medium setting and that made both the bumps and knobs spin, and the dildo buzz deep inside him. While his eyes opened in exquisite agony, and he groaned loudly behind his gag, I hummed absently as I moved down to his clenching toes.

He fucked the dildo like a Pavlovian dog. Goose pimples broke out over his arms and legs, and he plunged even more to seek relief from his delicious, exquisite torture. Like a praying mantis, I began to suck on his sweet toes and size nine feet, and gently scratched my fingernails across his meaty insteps. The unusually long toes for such a small guy with small feet were delicious to suck, and they bucked and twisted both from the sensations coursing within him as well as from my tongue and lips. The sensation in is ass caused his toes to curl involuntarily, and my tickling and sucking only made them more frantic. I tickled, scratched and sucked the toes on each foot. He was ready for one last gigantic ejaculation. I grasped his fully stiff poker, now bathed in new streams of sticky clear pre-cum. I held up and then aimed his thick curved shaft toward his face, and then using my one free hand, allowed my fingertips to just barely caress the pulsing, dripping, red knob. Every time the fat knob would bloat as if it was about ready to spit cum, my fingers would retreat, leaving Kevin’s big fuck stick untended and aching for a good wanking. For thirty minutes, I led him up to the edge, and then left him pulsing futilely. His previous two ejaculations prevented him from cumming without adequate manual stimulation. It took a while, but good old Kevin blasted another heavy load over his own face. He whined helplessly behind his gag, and his toes curled tight when the bolts of gism blasted from the wide piss lips, as my fist worked just under his flange, twisting and my thumb scrubbing, made his fat fuck tip shoot and shoot. In the meantime, his hips continued to plunge his ass against the twirling and whirling magic dildoe lodged so deep in his guts, it’s bumps and bristles giving him the kind of thorough massage that made his tits go rock hard when he shot his scum. Even after he'd blown his wad, I used my fingers to dance delicately around the achey knob, scratching my nails across the bloated flesh

Kevin spent the night secured to my king-size bed on one side, hands over his head, and legs attached apart to a spreader bar at the foot of the bed. I woke him twice during the night. The first time, I gagged him again while I sucked his tit buds with my nursing lips and plucked them with my tweaking digits, and I used my spit covered palm to jerk another load from his balls. What a good little man, he ground his ass in the bed as my fist worked relentlessly, and then he arched from chest to hips when I led him over the edge again, twisting my callused fist around his prong, and draining more scum from his healthy nuts. I’m an expert at roiling my fist over the scar of a curved cock and working the bloated knob. I was propped up on one elbow, leaning over and working the sexy little cadet jock punk. I love it when these trussed bastards go rigid, and burp their sticky gism. Kevin stretched and made his muscles go taut as I rotated the palm once again over his fat knob after he'd cum and could not escape my feathery grip. The second load was a surprise for him, though. I whispered into his ear how boys like him were made to be cock milked, and that maybe he would not be allowed to touch his meat again without permission. In his stupor, somehow he took my words for gospel, and for whatever reason my rule oriented Marine was ready to submit to the chain of command. Whether or not he was a Marine made no difference, tough little shits like him needed prick supervision because their hard dicks were sometimes more in control of their actions than their brains. If I was in the Marines, I would have cock cages on all of those hard dicked peanut brains. Then I’d make sure that they were taken into special labs routinely, placed on their knees with their heads down and asses up, gagged and arms bound in the middle of their backs, then milked like cows on a schedule. The rest of the time, they needed to stay hard and horny, kept desperate and angry to make good soldiers. I would take care of their stiff d

But since the only Marine I actually knew was Kevin, I had a plan for him to fill all the fantasies that ran through my head about beefy little Jarhead punks. I had a perfect mesh cock cage for my hard-dicked, spunk-filled white trash Marine. Attached was a little chain and socket that could be used to insert a small, remote controlled vibrator up his asshole on special occasions. I told him that once a week, he'd be tied, tickled, pinched, rubbed, brushed, vibrated, scratched, and shared, until all the pent up gism was drained from his balls. Then he'd be allowed to go back to keeping his perfect body unsullied and his sperm bank unused, ever ready for military and other kinds of service. Then I closed a bristle-gloved hand over his rod, and started a slow and steady frig, using my thumb under his circumcision scar in a steady motion. I took off his gag at the end, so he could plead and beg, but the poppers kept him disoriented. "Aaaaahhhhhh godddddd….jesus…no, please, not my prick knob again, OH FUCK…pleeeeeeezzzzzeeee….stop, don't torture me….I'll do what you say, I'll do it…any-thing…OH CHRSIT….fucking anything…..nnnnooooooooo…..aaaaaaaagggghhhhhh!"

I just told him to start telling stories about people who had sucked and worshipped his body...when I found one I liked, I'd let him cum. Boy was that a great thirty minutes, and I recorded every story. The time he'd been sucked dry twice in a row at a gas station glory hole by a hard nosed little mechanic while he was in ROTC uniform earned him his reward. He said he couldn't pry his dick from the guys mouth, and he just held onto the partition and ground his hips while the fucker siphoned the scum from his horny, pulsing rod (and here I thought he was a virgin to male sex!). Either he had a great imagination, or that boy had been popular, and the story about the mechanic and his grunts and groans as he burbled it added to the effect.

Now he was changing his tune. His big boy pecker was rigid again, aching to squirt, and tingling, itching and throbbing in my unrelenting frigging fist. Fuck I love to work these hard dicked boys, helpless slaves to their peckers, and addicted the sweet sensation of their itchy male clits. "Aaaaaahhhhhh fuuuuccccckkkkk, oooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhh, jaaaaack my meeaaatt, oooooowwwwwww yeeeeaaaaaaaahhhh....my diiiccccccccckkk...!" As the cum drooled out, I kept those bristles working under his knob, earning squeals and screams that were blunted by the sound-proofing in my bedroom. When he passed out from the overwhelming sensation, I untied him and dressed him. I loaded him my car and drove him back to his apartment building. Going up the parking garage elevator, I got him to his apartment, and stripped him down . I put him under his sheets, and left him in a deep sleep, his rubbery curved cock still wet from the dregs of his long evening.

The next day and the next, I didn’t hear from Kevin. By that Wednesday, when we played our next IM basketball game, he acted like he always did…not betraying anything out of the ordinary. In fact afterwards, his arm was around Audrey like always. I’m sure he wondered why his cock was sore the next day, but the rophy apparently had done it’s job, and he was oblivious or at least acted oblivious to what had happened. He sure wasn’t going to admit that he’d been a captive, trussed sex slave, even if in the dim recollections of the night, something suggested that he’d cum on more than one occasion. During the summer after the Spring Semester, I anonymously sent Kevin some 8 x 10” prints of him trussed up, spurting cum, and dick hard. I set up a meet with him at a roadside john, outside of town, late one night.

He asked me how I could have done this…yeah, he thought something was wrong the next morning after we'd been out drinking. His prick had been sore for three days. But He couldn't remember anything. Now the pics told the story, and at first he was pissed and loud. But as I showed him new pics he had not seen, and warned that these would go to the Marines, to his family and even Audrey, he quieted down and just became sullen. I asked if he was going to cooperate? At first he wondered out loud what would happen if some of his buddies caught me alone one night. But I reminded him that if anything happened to me, that I had set up a mechanism to ensure that the pics would be mailed. Plus I had scanned the pics, and they would also be sent all over the internet with his name, and contact information. He looked like he could kill me, but eventually he asked what he had to do? I smiled, and told him that as long he played ball, so to speak, he would only have to perform once per week. But if he acted up, or got uncooperative, he'd regret how devious my imagination could be.

Before the night was through, I had him tied to the stanchions in the dirty roadside bathroom, legs spread and arms over the top. I gagged him for good measure. The threat of those pics showing up at the campus Marine headquarters had chastened my prick-hard little cadet. His rigid prong jutted through a large glory hole in the partition, curving wickedly up to be sucked more than once that night by strangers, while I gently finger fucked him from behind in his stall using the a little finger vibrator covered with the horsehair bristles. I also rolled his taut titties, pinching their diamond hardness, and scraping my jagged fingernails across the sensitive tips. By the end of the summer, I was able to put Kevin through some maneuvers before he left for officer’s training. Having him tied naked on my dining room table, gagged and bound, on his hands and knees, with his cock attached to a home made milker was a remarkable sight. The milker was an old mix-master that spun a special sheath at varying speeds, swathed in a lubed terry cloth wash rag to massage and torque the subject’s helpless, drooling cock. Kevin did not disappoint, spurting out cum, but still able to give after five tries. By the time he left for his Marine career, I had transformed him into a prick hard, horny pony boy who could not resist a frigging hand, rolled tits, or a good finger bang.

The first time he came back, I made sure he brought a suitable buddy, another young, innocent Jarhead that would succumb to a night of rophy and booze. It worked like a charm, and we added the furry blond beef, 6"2" and hung like a bull with a super sensitive cock knob to our games. He was even more compliant once I got something up his bung hole, and buzzed him into oblivion. Big boys, big dicks, little brains and sperm to spare. Thank goodness for college military training programs.

END

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