The Itch 2

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.

Synopsis: A young man and his girlfriend are hitch-hiking along the Texas coast, and are lured into a home then drugged and bound, and sexually abused.

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August 30, 1998

What was I to do with them? The girl was easy to dispose of, their were men whom I knew who would take her to Mexico, and through connections sell her abroad. She would fetch good money on the international slave market. Especially since she was unable to control her orgasms, there would be wealthy people who would pay to see her trained into a squirt gun, day in and day out. The boy was more complicated. Yes, there were folk who would purchase him. But boys are more difficult to manage. And although Michael was a pussycat with a unruly dick, there would still be fewer contacts who would be willing to deal with him. I decided that as long as I had both, I would play with them for a while until I could dispose of them both. While my connections made arrangements, there were still moments of fuck lust to video.

I carefully checked their identifications. His wallet was a beat up thing with a Utah driver's license. There were no pictures of family in the wallet, and I could find no telephone numbers. I learned later that he was an only child from a strict Mormon background, unusual to say the least the way Mormon's fuck. He had rebelled, run away to Arizona, and had eventually found his way to Texas where I had picked both of them up. She was a girl from Northern Arizona who didn't seem to have a background. She was two years younger than him, and had few possessions. There was a telephone number in her wallet for a cousin in Pennsylvania. But the paper was old and had obviously not been removed from the wallet for some time. These kids were on their own, and now they were temporarily in my possession.

After our first night which I described previously, I tied Michael to a bed in a room next to Susan's. I kept him blindfolded, so that I could manage him better. He had calmed down considerably, and in spite of his feeble efforts to show bravado, his fear ultimately made him do everything I asked. I told him that if he and the girl just cooperated for a few days, I'd take them back out on the road, and let them go blindfolded, but with at least one hand free to loosen themselves. He bought it, but begged me not to hurt them. Shit, I wasn't going to hurt them...though the thought of a little torture was clearly on the agenda. My goal was to enjoy their superb physical beauty, and milk the juices out of them for my pleasure, before I made some tangible profit from shipping them to markets where white boys and girls for sold for sex were at a premium. I tied him spread eagle, with his fine feet open and exposed, as well as his hairy armpits. His firm stomach muscles, etched with youth and work, were carefully delineated, his navel barely visible from the hair in and around it, and his sweet cock, resting flaccid and exhausted from the night before over a sac of big, heavy testicles that were already brewing another batch of boy crud for my enjoyment.

Susan remained in her room. I kept her legs separated by a wide spreader bar, that gently caused her labia to be separated. That way, any breeze that entered the room, from the fan in the corner or even the window if I opened it, would send a sweet shiver right to her clit, and cause it to make her drool a bit more. Even a hint of a breeze, or the sense of a touch, would cause her fine nipples to harden and crinkle, almost painfully for the need to be massaged or pinched.

The night before, I had gotten her to describe to me how it felt when Michael fucked her. Jesus she was a slut. As I licked her tits, and scratched my rough fuck finger up and down her slot, she told me the whole story. Between..."mmmmmmmnnnnn...uuuuugggghhh.... Aaaaahhhhh... mmmmm... aaaaghhhhhh...." from the insidious tickling of her cunny, she said she met him at a bus station in Tucson, and when he saw her sitting towards the back of the bus going to Dallas by herself he immediately joined her. She liked the way he talked, his soft drawl, and the way his jeans fit his thighs and calves, his long muscular legs, and the fading bulge at his crotch. By the time the lights were out, and they were driving through the night, he had one blunt, calloused fuck finger, stroking the outside of her damp panties, making her wet them more, and squirm from the delicious feeling of his finger pad gently pushing the material between her cunt lips and roiling her clit. While they talked in soft tones, without anyone realizing, he used that finger to make her cum twice as they drove...and he knew it. Once they dot to Dallas, they found a room in a cheap motel, and he fucked her three time the first night, making her squeal with pleasure as his curved cock rasped against her insolent love button, exposing it, and bending it against the rigid stalk as he stroked in and out like an experienced bronco buster. He talked sweet and low, but fucked like a champ. The next day, while they were hitch-hiking from Dallas he took her behind a road sign, and sucked her pussy and pinched her tits until she cried that she couldn't cum one more time. He gave her that sexy, handsome smile, his face wet with her juices, and then unbuttoned his jeans so she could suck him off once for the road. The laughed at their own inside jokes, as the talkative business man who gave them their next ride, had no idea how recently they had been spiting fuck juices.

I began trolling my tongue between her fat, sticky cunt lips as she babbled her confession, occasionally flicking her clit, but mostly rolling her tits, and her gasping and grunting as I made her squirt more and more strong sap onto my tongue. I told her until she got it all out, I wouldn't let her cum again, and she hastened to comply, anxious to have that cunt contract just one more time.

God I love a helpless snatch that can't control the need for a soothing touch once the juices start to flow. I had her legs propped up a the knees, so I could place a board with a short dildo attached to it between them and insert its slender but pebbled surface just inside her cunt lips. She could mash her clit against it just barely, and tickle her sensitive labia. But she could bring herself off, so she spent the night in a fitful sleep, occasionally awaking to jerk herself off, but unable to do so. Her tits were like firm stones when I saw her in the morning, aching from the need to be relieved of the natural itch deep up her trough.

Michael reluctantly told me that once he left Utah, he seemed to always find a gal "that needed what he had to offer." I had to rub his prostate for a few minutes before he burped out in short blunt sentences, all I wanted to know. His firm ass muscles tried to squeeze my finger off, but as I tickled his armpits, his navel, or his feet, he would temporarily lose control of his grip, and I could work him for a bit more information. He'd screwed several college girls, a housewife, and bar maid in Tuscon during the time he stayed there. He'd learned to keep his hands off his dick so that he could fuck forever, and he loved the way women whined as he long dicked 'em. Seemed like there was always a horny bitch wanting to suck his dick, and he never disappointed a lady with a wet snatch. He just liked to make them purr and squeal when he sucked, fingered or fucked 'em. The way a pussy clutched his dick, just made him want more and more. He couldn't get his wick dipped enough, but he was never mean or pushy. Girls just saw that handsome, sweet boy next door mug and melted into whatever he wanted to do with their sticky pussies and taut titties.

I used a ball stretcher and cock-ring on Michael, once I masturbated him into another unwanted erection. Then I slipped a very slender and short dildoe up his asshole, covered with small, stiff points that rested just below his prostate. Every time he moved that night, the remote sensor in this wonderful little device I bought in Hong Kong, would activate its vibrator, and he would be given a sweet little massage on his fuck nut that made his prick go stiff and drool. I later learned that he had only had a finger up his butt once before he encountered me, when an older cousin of his tied him up and stripped him when he was fifteen during some horsing around in a barn. The kid had lowered his pants and briefs, sucked his finger, then tickled it up the resisting hole while Michael threatened to kill him when he got free. But he admitted that he sprung a boner, and that his cousin had pulled it down between his legs, and hooked it under the briefs that were at his thighs. He said his cousin's taunting finger fuck, coupled with him using the other hand to just jerk and tickle the knob of his aching schlong, made him shoot crud for what seemed like a minute...yelping and groaning from the overwhelming sensations and the ticklish itch that seemed to envelope his prick tip.

I wanted them both ready the next day for more fun and games. I was not disappointed.

The next morning, after I let him piss and shit, I hosed down Michael in the shower, and fed him while blindfolded and bound. I placed him on his knees on a floor level rolling car.. His knees were spread, and his arms tied down to his ankles, bowing his chest. I put a collar on his neck, and fastened a chain from the collar to the cart in between his legs which dangled off the back of the it. That caused his head to be tipped slightly backwards. I supported his lower back and neck with a bolster I made for this use, and it allowed him to thrust his tits up like a girl, keep his asshole available from underneath, and tip his head up towards anything that his tongue might have to service. Much to my surprise, but also my delight, Michael's fine cock had erected and was dripping by the time he was wheeled into the room with Susan whom he could not see.

For her part, Susan was bent in a wide, standing squat. Her legs were keep separated and her feet on the floor. Two metal braces fixed to the floor between her legs helped take her weight off her thighs and calves by supporting the bottom of her buttocks and the back, top of her thighs. Her arms were cuffed up high between her should blades so that her breasts were thrust out, and their nipples that aimed upwards, were fully exposed and engorged. I had a blindfold over her eyes, and a small vibrating penis gag in her mouth. I also had her ears covered so she could hear nothing. The squat of her legs allowed her blonde pubis to thrust out and down between her buttocks, open and ever moist. From below, I had a stream of air flowing up from a narrow and specially designed vent between her legs, thickly moistened with warm oil as it emerged, aimed at her cunt lips to make them wet, red and irritated and making her molested clit ache for a soothing touch. I used one had to twirl her nearest nipple, and rubbed my rough thumb at the top of her labia, causing her to grunt against the gag in her mouth. I liked that immediate response.

Now the games were to begin. I rolled Michael over to the squatting women who had been his lover less than 48 hours earlier, but whom he could not see. She for her part did not know he was in the room, and could neither see nor hear him. I asked him, as his upturned face and his nose came under her now moist and fragrant cunt, what he smelled:

"I smell pussy, Mr." he drawled in that sexy voice.

"Yes indeed, Michael, something that I know you like very much. I'm told by Susan that you're quite a dog, and that you lap cunt with the best of them."

"I always have had a hankering for pussy juice, since I was sixteen," he said with a sweet honesty that indicated he'd decided to go through this and just get out alive, "and my best friend's older sister let me lick her snatch one afternoon after baseball practice while I waited for him to come home from swim practice so we could study. She showed me how to stick my tongue up her hole, and tickle her job button, and I kind liked the way she squeaked each time I made the mark." I watched as the perspiration began to drip from his armpits.

"Well, Michael, I've got a ripe pussy for you to lick right here. It belongs to a girl that can't stop juicing, she a regular prick hound. In fact she's got one fine little snatch, nice and blond with fur all along the hole, and the lips spread so you can get to the tasty meat just inside, and a clit that looks like its a half-inch long and throbbing for something to rub it. Jesus, I'm looking up into that hole, just above your nose Michael, and I can see the juice dripping down, ready to coat your face."

I notice his dick had gone rigid, and was sticking up and out, sticky wet from his pre-cum, dripping down.

But now I was going to add some fun for both of them that they were not suspecting. I took a paint brush, dipped it into a bowl of thick clear gel, and swabbed the lips of Susan's horny cunt, rummaged the bristles all around her clit and its fleshy cover, and then deep up the hole to her joy spot. She squealed and howled through her gag, the unsatisfying tickling driving her wild, making her hands scrabble behind her back. I turned on the penis vibrator in her gag to its lowest setting to distract her from the sensation of the bristles. She grunted and groaned in frustration from the ticklish intrusion that failed to help her achieve a much needed orgasm. Then I took the same brush and basted her conical tits. What she did not know was that the gel was a fierce itching compound and topical aphrodisiac that worked on the erectile tissues, and with the chemical composition of cunt juice or sperm. Within moments, the interior of her cunt, the weeping labia, and inside, around and on her unprotected clit, little red bumps appeared that were not painful but itched to the point of distraction and madness. The same occurred on her tits, and soon would be doing the same up her asshole. I inserted a thin glass rod with horsehair bristles coated with the cream up her fundament, and the end of the thing had a wire that led to a console where it could be activated into a quivering, spinning probe that could not be ejected because of the harness that kept it in place. Over her tits, I slipped two loose clips that would not cause pain but would conduct electrical shocks to the itching nipples, and sometimes a steady current that buzzed those already stiff nodes into a tickle that could not be imagined. Within seconds of activating the entire combination, Susan was performing as I had hoped.

When she started to squeal and scream around her buzzing penis gag, I turned on its vibrator to the next level so that the plastic would tickle the roof of her mouth and buzz her teeth, rattling her out of her ability to concentrate on the incredible itch and tickle that had overtaken her body's most erotic locations, and prevented her from concentrating on a much needed cum.

Now came the final piece of the puzzle. First I told Michael to open his mouth. As he did so, I slipped in a retainer that helped him keep his mouth slightly open, and allowed his tongue free movement. I then slipped a special, flexible soft plastic cover over the end of his tongue, which fit into groves on the inside of the retainer so it would not slip off. It could move back and forth, sideways, and up and down as the tongue moved, tethered on a track in the retainer. The plastic cover protected the broad surface of the tongue, and the protruding tip beyond. The further genius of the device was that the soft plastic was covered by a fine pad of stiff, short horsehair bristles. The consistency made the bristles flexible and soft one the one hand, but scratchy and irritating on the other. I rolled Michael back slightly so his nose was nearer the palpitating asshole clenching from the bristle massage deep inside, and his mouth was poised right at the line of the quaking, slippery cunt. I sprayed some neutralizing liquid into his mouth, that would prevent him from developing the maddening bumps, but if his tongue slowed from its appointed rounds of making the sliding plastic cover graze back and forth over Susan labia and clit, and deep into her spasaming trench, a small shock would be delivered to his tongue by a small sensor wire to remind him of his duty. I had the same treatment slated for his dick, his balls, his tits, and for a special little vibrator that I slipped up his asshole that could spin and flex with the same tickling horsehair, as I had given to Susan.

I told him his charge, and set him in motion.

"Michael, you need to try and wring six or seven orgasms from this slut within thirty minutes, or I'll slip a mechanical milking device covered in horsehair over your dick and leave it on you all night. So let's get to it shall we?"

Michael thrust his blind tongue straight up to where he thought the cunt was located, not knowing that he was torturing sweet Susan, his bus-stop fling. When the bristle came in contact with the angry red bumps, Susan went crazy. She loved the bristles because they soothed the itch, but then they would aggravate it all the more, making her cunt spasm and spit juice. And when he thrust tongue up and into her cunt hole, reaching up deep inside her, and the swipe of the pad penetrated to the exposed expanse of her throbbing clit....I thought Susan would pass out. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for her, she did not. Moreover, just as she would be ready to succumb to the awful sensations, I would pull Michael away. Her cunt would throb, and drip, clench, and quiver, but her hardened clit could not get what it needed desperately.

For his part, Michael's angry red wang, covered in the little bumps, waved helplessly and futilely...hoping that some hand or something would soothe it. I slipped on a little finger pad with the horse hair bristles on the end, and just lightly scratched the big, overwrought knob of the young man's fuck stick. That, and I alternated the wicked flexing anal probe that worked his prostate, prostrate, by playing with the dials on the console. Both their sexy feet curled and flexed, trying anything to escape the sensations that were driving them. Their fingers scrabbled helplessly behind their backs.

When Michael finally could not stand the tickling against his prostrate and over his tortured dick head anymore, his cock tip expanded obscenely allowing me a greater surface on which to twirl the maddening bristles. Then, after having brought him to this point several times for almost two hours, I kept the bristles whizzing on his circumcision scar and flange until he erupted with nine long, copious spurts of white sperm that squirted across the room between Susan's legs. The first two bolts shot up and hit her cunt, melding in with the juices that dripped non-stop from her cunny and back into his mouth. I used one hand to roll his tits pointy tits, and the let the wicked little bristles on the fingertips of my other hand continue to dance on his prick knob making his hips jerk wildly to void the awful sensitivity.

Susan must have been sympatico with he man, because the moment he shot scum, she burst into a long series of orgasms from the scratching bristles. I couldn't keep track of how many times she came. She started immediately to contract her pussy muscles around the horrible bristles, and after ten, I just stopped counting and let the parade continue. She was young and horny, and her cunt betrayed her from the moment the bristles began to work their magic.

As I rolled Michael's dancing tongue away from Susan's cunt and turned off the dials, I could see that she had drenched his face, her legs, and the floor between her legs with a copious flow of cunt juice. I left Michael to his devices in the next room, the little probe up his butthole working now only on batteries, but still able to keep his attention and make his dick grow stiff again. But for Susan, I sat down in a chair in front of her, now using my little bristle pad finger glove to tweak and toy with her now freed tits, and to search out her exhausted clit for some final treatment. I just had to feel those cunt muscles grip my fingers a few times as I finger banged her for the fun of it. I took off her gag, and listened to the sweet music from her mouth:

"Aaaaaaaaggggghhhhh....noooooo, nooo, please stop.....aaaaaaahhhhhh, my cunt, oh, no, not there....aaaaaaaagggghhhh.....stop, oh jesus, oh my god, oooooooohhhhh nnnnnoooooo....not again....not again....aaaaahhhhhhh....AAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE.....!"

Over the next couple of days, those kids shot more juice than I thought humanly possible. I spent one night just alternating my masturbation of the two until they basically passed out. But bless their sweet young hearts, they were ready by the next morning, after a shower and a good meal. By the end of the week, Michael was on his way to Brazil, to live in the interior with a couple that wanted a handsome and sexually insatiable young man for their revels at their estate far from neighbors and authorities in the Amazon basin. There the special skills of the native people, and their special potions would raise the unsuspecting boy from Utah to a whole new level of sexual consciousness. Susan was bound for Malaya, and a Chinese plantation owner who had his own fascinating ideas about how to make young girls shoot their wad repeatedly. He wanted her kept horny but unsatisfied for the five day journey so that when she arrived, he would be able to start with a
"bang" so to speak.

For my part, I was about to entertain a young twenty year old Marine from Corpus Christi whose family in North Carolina had not much contact with him, and a sweet young girl of eighteen that met him at the beach on a summer vacation fling with her college girl friends. But that is the next chapter in my story about folks who have the itch and the ways I've learned to satisfy their needs.

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