The Asylum 3

NOTICE: All the Standard warnings about being of age, being aware of your community standards apply to the following story! Please read no further if you are underage 18/21--or live in a conservative area--or are offended by explicit sexual stories. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone is strictly coincidental.

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Exam Room No. 2

Next door to Jeremy, whom I left for the orderlies to clean up and return to his cell, was another young man. He was lying on his back on an exam table, his arms stretched over his head, gagged with a funnel gag, his legs raised up, spread, and attached with soft cuffs to a bar hanging down from the ceiling. DOUGLAS MARION HARDING was an ex-security guard from Utah. He had left Kansas, and a working class home to make it on his own. In Utah he had stayed on his own, making few friends and spending his nights (according to Mr. Velasquez's operative), grinding his 7" cock into his mattress, fucking the sheets for up to a half hour before he would unload a thick, viscous load and then fall asleep with his pale, muscled ass exposed. There were fuck magazines in his apartment, some on the floor by his bed, but they did not indicate whether it was the sight of hard dick rummaging up the young twats and scrubbing hard clits, or the sensation of that cock getting massaged by the masturbating glove of a girl's wet pussy that drove young Doug into fuck heaven.

Doug was 26, 6'1" and 185 lbs. He had pale skin, almost ruddy, and black hair. Beyond the thick, wavy hair on his head, his hair was confined to the bush above his dick, beneath his balls and up his crack, along his legs, below his butt and on his forearms, underarms, fingers and toes. His firm chest was without hair, but had two luscious pink nipples that jutted downward. His cock, butt, and feet were pale looking, as if protected and vulnerable.

I walked up to the table, and ran my hands up one his strong, muscled legs. The long toes on that foot, curled, trying to reflexively protect what was completely at my mercy, but their length prevented him from protecting them. I caressed the narrow, pale heel of his foot, then scratched my fingernail across his sole, and then into the meaty arch of his size 11 feet. His toes wiggled wildly, and he gurgled around his gag, wheezing as I tickled his foot. Since he could not move, I grasped the foot held captive in a stirrup, and then using the other hand scratched all five fingernails up and down his pink, ticklish foot. He squirmed and gasped and gurgled, and his hands scrabbled uselessly above his head. As my finger tormented him beyond his endurance, his cock hardened. I alternated from one foot to the other, until his prong was fully erect, jutting above his navel, with its wide, fat helmet red and wet from with pre-scum.

Pausing for a moment, I slipped on a glove whose index finger was ribbed with bumps. Then I thrust the finger into nearby lube, and then parted his hard ass cheeks to get a look at the pale pink portal hidden under his dark fur. Doug ground his ass on the table, squirming to avoid my probing finger. But without the ability to move, my worming finger reached its objective with-out any difficulty. Pausing to scratch at the entrance to his boy pussy, I slowly worked my finger up the hot, spasming hole. Moving my finger back and forth, I worked it deep up his butt. The knobby whorls on the finger poked and rubbed his ass lining until I reached the hard little nut that was my objective. Using careful aim, I poked and rubbed that pleasure button, causing his ass to bump and grind onto the exam table now wet with his perspiration. Doug was helpless, his eyes wide, his dick drooling, he had never had anything up his hole, much less something as insistent and experienced as my thick, thrusting finger. His ass really bounced, his legs straining to close against the restraining stirupps, struggling prevent my unobstructed and insistent finger-fucking. Doug's chest heaved, his nipples hardened and jutted. I pinched them briefly, and tugged on them, causing him to close his eyes and force the paps toward my plucking fingertips. I wet the fingers of one hand, and rolled the reddening tits till they were as hard and firm as his dick. With titties this sensitive, he was going to make many a client in the playrooms happy.

Next I left his titties, and reached up with my hand and began scratching gently but deliberately in his exposed, hairy armpit. His eyes, snapped open, he squealed behind the gag, and combined with a renewed effort from the fuck finger on my other hand, Doug was helpless. His stomach muscles turned rock hard, his tits pointed out stiffly, his hands grasped at the air. He groaned and hiccupped behind the gag, and his ass bounced wildly. His toes suddenly curled, and with gurgling gasp, his fat dick knob widened, going glassy smooth---the red tip as fat as it could get---then it spit out ropes of thick, white gism up to his neck, across his pecs, and finally pooling in and above his navel. I hadn't even touched his dick.

I look a plastic spoon and scooped up his copious cream and dripped it down into his funnel gag. I watched his epiglottis bob as I continued to fill the spoon with his protein and feed it to him. I whispered softly into his ear as he swallowed against his will, "we're going to have to feed you lots of boy cream, Doug. I like the way you look swallowing gism." He tried to move his head to express his displeasure, to say "no", but he could only keep swallowing in order to continue to breath freely when I gently pinched his nostrils.

Before I left, I took his still erect cock and milked the final cum from his tubes, and then smoothed in into his ticklish glans, rolling my fingers around the ticklish prick tip that had never had this kind of treatment after he would cum against the soft sheets of his bed. I was making his prick tip expand helplessly from the unwanted stimulation. I couldn't wait to see Doug when his prong was inserted into the bristle milker, relentlessly massaging his dick head with the stiff, tickling bristles, causing his cock to feel like a million little ants were nibbling on his delicate knob, drooling scum and shooting gism.

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