The Masturbation Chronicles, Tale No. 2 -- The Boys from Lebanon

Disclaimer: If you are not yet 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This story is for adults, and contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys with older men. This story is completely fiction, all descriptions and names are also made up, and any similarities are truly just that, purely similarities. I do not engage in or condone sexual activity between adults and underage boys which is regulated by law. These are fantasies for sexual private sexual enjoyment, not for emulation in real life.

This current story line is entitled “The Masturbation Chronicles” and will be a series of discreet stories focused around the theme of uncontrollable masturbation and its consequences. I would truly appreciate suggestions from others for scenes or settings, and of course descriptions of real scenes. Often my stories have been woven from tales shared with me by those of your who comment on my stories. So please consider writing to me.

My stories are posted on, and on I would appreciate comments on my writing. I certainly admire the good writers on the web, and consider myself still a learner. Please contact me at [email protected].

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I first saw Habib Mansour and his buddy Melik Oman in the corporate gym during lunch. I could hardly keep my eyes off of them… fuck they were beautiful. I learned later that Habib, 26 had emigrated from Lebanon during the Israeli occupation and resulting collapse of the country, six years earlier. His good friend, Melik, 24, had immigrated with him and they had come to Southern California to go to school. I was not surprised that at their age, they would be considering college, but I later discovered that was merely a story they concocted for Immigration. Once in the U.S. after a year at Glendale College, they looked for jobs and both had been hired as security guards for the Bank where I worked. Somehow, they had managed to obtain passes to the corporate gym and were there flexing their muscles for the panting cunts who worked in the big time banking and law offices upstairs. The two boys were as horny and spunk- full as you could imagine, and their strict religious training made their sexual options limited. In their home lands, it was forbidden to touch women outside of the bonds of matrimony, even for those who had been raised as Christians. Now in America, they still could not believe their good fortune, to be living in a place where pussy dripped to have big boy dicks ream them out and rub their clits into submission. The boys worked out on Friday afternoons before they hit the bars, hoping to score a tight cunt on Friday nights, to relieve the full sacks of their sperm laden testicles.

I knew that I would eventually have them, but the question was how to get it done? Habib was 5’10” of Christian Lebanese boy trash. In the eyes of his mother and his family, he was the dutiful son, handsome and pure of heart. But at night when he ground his prick into the soft material of his bedding, dreaming of sucking tit and finger fucking pussy on his way to a long night of screwing, he was far from the obedient son. His perfectly tanned skin and black hair were complemented by the most beautiful hazel eyes… eyes that looked so tender and innocent, but behind which was a cunt-hound of insatiable proportions. The muscles on this boy were artfully distributed, his moulded pecs flashing two firm conical tits that pointed at a sharp downward angle away from his muscular chest. Black hair swirled around both nipples, and then joined in a thick strand that descended down to his navel, and then further into the waist of his baggy rayon shorts. His arms and legs, like those of his good friend, were covered in whorls of dark curly hair, and when I saw the two of them in the shower I realized that the forest clogged the deep valleys between their firm but flat glutes. Hell, they both had hair on their fingers and toes… bursting with Middle Eastern testosterone, oozing sex appeal. Melik had dark brown hair, and his eyes were brown pools into which you could lose your heart. He had a mustache where Habib just had his constant 5 o’clock shadow. When they spoke to the women who flirted and fawned over them in the gym, they had the most charming and innocent smiles and polished manners. But when they were smoking at the back of the building, at times when they should have been on work patrols, they were cursing those same women as sluts and whores, and wishing they could fuck them till they squealed.

It became my mission to track these “two potential terrorists” [such a simple but effective plan] on behalf of the Office of Homeland Security. And if I could, I should make sure to interrogate them thoroughly. Of course I had no background in law enforcement, and they were about as likely to be terrorists as the pimply faced kid who delivered the mail on our floor. But one look at them and you knew they were dangerous men, seeking to fuck every woman they could. With those perfect bodies, and those ungovernable libidos, they were in obvious need of supervision. I was determined to help my country, both of them, and my own bursting lust by tracking them, and eventually putting their cocks under my supervision.

And speaking of cocks, they had beautiful ones. Habib had a dark 7.5 inch shaft (when erect), that curved even when soft, dangling towards his right side. The shaft was thinner at the root and thicker near the head hanging five inches when soft, with a fat knob, and a deep piss-well. While there was a profusion of hair above the cock, beneath, and around the testicles, there was a strange absence of the hair on the orbs themselves. The thick fur then reappeared under the heavy, hanging ball sack and exploded to fill his ass crack. Melik was just under two inches shorter than Habib, but thicker hung, with four inches of flaccid cock, which like his friend, was thinner at the root, but tapered and widened to the head where a bulbous, oversized glans crowned it. But thin in Melik’s case was actually a thick cock root, and when his prick went hard, the weight of the knob held its upward curve down so it bowed from the body. His testicles were fat eggs in a taught sack full of spooge and resting under his cock root.

I used my bank security clearance to find out not only their personnel information, but to gain access to their lives. They had been in the country for six years and were living in an apartment in Glendale near the college where they attended. The apartment was respectable, but its most important feature was the fact that it had two bedrooms, so if necessary, the boys could bring home their bitches and modestly retire to their respective rooms to fuck pussy without interruption. Within two weeks, I had carefully broken into this domicile and put in sound and picture devices to tape in their bedrooms and in the bathroom. Habib had a habit of sleeping in the nude, and when he awoke in the mornings, he would walk naked into the john with his morning hardon to piss. He would lean forward, bracing his hand against the wall above the toilet, his hair sticking up in every which direction, yawning as his heavy piss stream filled the bowl. Melik was almost as delightful, pulling his prick through the opening of his boxers as he scratched his ass, flexing his long toes as his morning tumescence made it take time to drain his bladder. In the shower they would lovingly soap their firm bodies in ways that discretion forbade at the gym, and on more than one occasion, both men masturbated up to the point of panting, but did not cum. Seeing them spread their legs, lean back and stroke their throbbing organs was better than an video on u-Tube or on porn sites.

Jesus, I love Middle Eastern men. They are so fucking repressed or naïve, but with some of the most beautiful bodies and cocks in the world. They are also constitutionally precluded from masturbation to ejaculation or sex without a pussy---and I thought Catholics were the most repressed men in the world? Both Habib and Melik would grind their cocks into their beds at night, raising and lowering their firm butts as they drove their cocks into the sheets, but neither of them reached the gasping, groaning ejaculations they would achieve when they brought girls home on a Friday or Saturday night. The girls were usually drunk, and the boys would stroke their hair, look into their eyes longingly, and eventually took them into their respective rooms for a good night of fucking. Shit, these guys were almost inexhaustible… managing three to four cums when they finally got their pussy into the sack. Somehow, I had to intervene into this process, and find a way to make them desperate to cum… but only on my terms.

The first inkling that something was wrong in their perfect world of motorcycles, willing bitches and dance clubs came when letters arrived for both of them indicating that they would have to submit to interviews held by Immigration. Of course, I was going to be immigration, but the office I had set up in an empty suite in one of office buildings downtown seemed more than official. In the letter, there was a hint that their activities with young women had drawn the attention of law enforcement, and pictures of them sucking face in clubs, coupled with revealing but incomplete ones of them with girls in their apartment, caused both to have pause. They dutifully called the number I had provided them, and indicated that they would make the interview. They asked if they should bring a lawyer, and I assured them that this was a preliminary conversation and that perhaps we could resolve our concerns “informally.” A lawyer might make this adversarial, and if they wanted to avoid the courtroom, it might be better if they just came in on their own for a conversation. They readily agreed, and I had a week to prepare for them.

I spent much of my time, reviewing the tapes and recordings I had made. Fuck, there’s nothing like a straight guy screwing a chick---fucking like a starving dog chewing on a bone. Melik liked to have the chick ride him, rising and falling on his lap so that his slightly curved stalk, thick and fat knobbed, would slide up and down the cunt’s gripping trough, rubbing her spiked clit on his stiff ridge, making her whine and squeal with intense sensation. He would stretch out on the bed, his legs hanging over the side, the balls of his muscular feet just resting on the floor, his toes gripping the carpet so he could hold himself steady as the girl of the night rode him like a mechanical bull. In this position he could face her, reach up and tweak her tits, and he could watch the girl close her eyes, throw her head back and lose control of herself… riding the thick prick to one, two, sometimes more orgasms until her clinging cunt would drag Melik’s viscous, thick load of spooge from his full balls. Sometimes, he would wear a condom… if the girl demanded it, he obliged. But other times, Melik like his good friend in the other room, would ride bareback, loving the feel of pussy clinging directly to his cock, and the feel of his own spunk lubricating his prick as he shoot wads of the pungent cream into a girl’s clinging hole.

Habib was not so passive as his younger friend. He liked to be the rider. I would learn later that Habib’s fantasy was to put on chaps and a cowboy hat, and dog-fuck a girl like a bronco buster. The girl would be on her hands and knees on the bed, with Habib porking her from behind like a dog, often gripping her hair with one hand and pulling her head back as he either pinched her tits, or fingered her clit with the other. Corkscrewing his sideways curved cock in and out he would ride and finger the helpless bitch till she squirted pussy juice from her cunt in a fierce orgasm. Then Habib would twist the weakend girl around on the bed, and push her legs up to her chest, and allowing him to screw her deep until she either came again, or until the sight of the women’s helpless submission made Habib fire bolt after bolt of his copious crud deep into the girl’s quim, drenching her cunt and making his fuck even more delicious.

When Habib and Melik arrived at the faux office I had concocted, I met them in an ante-room, and took Melik in first. I explained to both of them that this was a discreet investigation, and that my hope was that they could clear up some issues that our investigation had discovered in an informal dialog, avoiding a trip to our downtown offices in a squad car with handcuffs. They looked like deer in the headlights, their eyes wide with fear. They readily agreed that an informal discussion of whatever was troubling us would be better, and they were sure there was a mistake. I thanked them for their cooperation, and took Melik into one room, and let Habib cool his jets while I started to execute my plan.

I gave Melik an opened can of soda, and a glass filled with the remaining contents. As I left and closed the door, I noticed him nervously drinking down the soda, and I smiled. In the other room where I returned, I offered Habib another soda as I began to review his file, and fill out forms which it appeared I would be using in the interview. Within minutes, both men had passed out cold, laying their heads down on the tables in the respective rooms. I then lifted both respectively, and put them in a rolling canvas cart, like those used to collect laundry at hotels. I covered them both, changed into a service uniform, and used the service elevator to take them down to a waiting panel truck in the basement. By the time they awoke, I had them well out of the city at a site I’ve developed over the years. This time, it had the appearance of a compound with cells. Each of these beautiful men was stripped to his briefs, and locked into a full-sized cell, separate from one another and out of each other’s sight. Both were blindfolded, and were secured in chairs I had purchased through a mail order auction of used dentists’ office supplies, and then modified.

Above the head rest of each chair I had attached a “T-Bar” to which their arms were now tied with soft, but strong rope. At the foot of the reclining chairs, I had installed sets of stirrups which allowed me to secure their feet apart by approximately three feet in width, just cupping the heels, and exposing the muscled soles of each of their strong feet and wriggling toes. The angle of the inclination exposed their firm, muscled stomachs and moulded pectorals… but even more nicely splayed were their always slightly tumescent cocks, respective nut sacks, and hidden, hairy anal portals.

I went into Habib’s cell and pulled up a stool next to his chair, as he tugged and pulled at the ropes and belts that bound him, and mumbling incoherently behind the ball gag that was fixed in place with straps around his head. I rolled my instrument table next to me as I sat, and began to speak to the Lebanese hunk.

“You did not think we would be fooled by your lame attempts to blend into the community with these low key jobs as security officers. We’re on to you Habib, and for the next few hours you will be interrogated as if you were in Guantanamo. So your best play is to reveal the operatives in your group-cell, and the names of others who are working with you.” Habib flicked his toes and seemed to protest as his fingers scrabbled in the air, helplessly, over his head. His firm muscles rippled as his struggled to speak and insist on his innocence, and the sweat of fear began to appear at his temple, mixing with his deodorant under his arms, adding to the pungent ball sweat on his heavy, hanging nut sack.

“Now nod your head if you are prepared to answer my questions truthfully.” Habib nodded his head frantically, and I smiled a cold, appreciative acknowledgement. “Good, that’s very good. Now nod in a similar manner if you are prepared to admit your participation in a local terrorist cell, and will provide me with names. If I could have seen behind his blindfold, Habib rolled his eyes, and then he tilted his head back in frustration tinged with desperation. How could he admit to something he knew nothing about… they would not believe him, and he would be in the same situation again. He hyper-ventilated and shook his head in a pathetic, pleading attempt to protest his innocence, still gurgling behind his gag.

“I’m sorry, that answer will not suffice; we’re going to have to take this to the next level.” My hands were trembling with anticipation, as I reached down to the edge of Habib’s firm six-pack, and my fingers slid across his panting stomach. The sudden sensation made him lurch, as much as his bonds would allow, and his stomach went concave as if by hollowing his stomach he could somehow avoid my fingers. He could not. I crooked my index finger, and began to gently scratch the firm, rippled stomach muscles. Habib now bellowed into his gag, and his head shook back and forth as if to say “no” as emphatically as he could… but my fingernail was relentless, gently scratching across his abdominals and reaching his helplessly exposed navel cavity, where the profusion of soft black hair filled the cavern, and overflowed both towards his pecs and down to his briefs. For whatever reason, fear of his situation, or because he was spread out and physically vulnerable, Habib had gone half hard under his briefs. Now, as he reacted to my finger probing his unprotected navel, tickling the sensitive inny nub in the well, and the remainder of my fingers spreading across the plain of his stomach, his cock lurched into a unconscious stiffy. My burrowing finger only made that curved snake throb more, and soon a wet spot expanded from where the soft white cotton clung to his pulsing cock knob. I then reached with my other index finger, as I rooted in his flexing navel, to scratch my nail on my other index finger across the fat expanse of his leaking glans penis. I found the wide, sensitive flange and begin a gentle but determined scratch of the nerve-studded corona, avoiding the glans itself for the moment. Ah fuck what a site, as Habib drove his ass into the table, pulling frantically at his bonds, babbling incoherently behind his gag in hopes of escaping this unexpected form of interrogation technique. Under his briefs his glans expanded from the irritating tickle, and his wide piss lips burbled out clear, sticky pre-fuck as his hips bucked to escape my unerring fingernail.

“I am going to continue manipulating your body until you agree to give me the information I want… do you understand?” I intoned in a flat, almost bored voice which barely betrayed the pounding of my heart as I had this Lebanese slab of beef under my total control. His head continued to move back and forth as if to say “NO”, but in his panic, he did not realize that what he should be saying (if only to get me to stop), was “yes.” I moved my finger that was tickling deep in his navel, up until I reached his near nipple. Ah, the rigid cone had already spiked when my nail scratched across its turgid erectile tissue, Habib thrust his chest up and to the side to avoid the unexpected sensation. I would learn later that Habib liked girls to rake their long nails over his chest briefly during foreplay, but could not stand even sucking on his nipples, much less pinching, tweaking, and twisting. Before today was over, they would get that treatment, and much more. I sucked my index finger and then, in conjunction with my thumb, I returned to the slightly bruised flesh where my nail had gently scratched. Now, my wet fingers twirled around the stub, pulling and tweaking as the lubrication sent new shooting sensations from Habib’s chest to his unruly boner. The boy was a pre-cum factory, and he was juicing like a cunt, his big boy clit still getting a good flange scratch from my determined index finger on my other hand, making the stiff prick flex from the deep tickle. This was the kind of teasing masturbation these boys needed—all highly sexual young men needed, and Habib was going to be begging and babbling for me to help him ejaculate if I knew anything about milking helpless men and boys.

Hours later, when I had Habib on his hands and knees with his arms bound behind his back and his legs attached to a spreader bar, with a small anal prod with course, lubricated horse hair covering its knob gently sliding up and down his rectal passage, I was able to learn some vital information that had nothing to do with national security.

It seems that Habib had been sent by his parents out of Beirut when he was twelve to stay with his Christian Uncle and his family in the Northern countryside. Unlike Habib’s family, his Uncle’s were not raised in the conservative, repressed culture of devout Muslims. Instead, both his cousins had gone to school with other Christian children, some of them European and American, living in Lebanon. Habib had been put in the room with his two older cousins, Aziz and Terik. Aziz was fifteen, and Habib was assigned to sleep in his bed in the small house with only two bedrooms, one for the boys and one for their parents. The first night Habib, whose body was physically matuare but not yet producing spunk, had awoken to feel his nicely sized pre-teen boner being gently stroked in Aziz’s teenage fist. The long teenage fingers lubricated with a combination of Habib’s pre-teen lube and Aziz’ spit, were twirling softly over and over the bloated glans of the younger boy. The pre-teen’s prick was lewdly sticking out of the fly of his pajama bottoms, thrust up caught by the roiling fist of his cousin who focused his fingers on the tender, ticklish cock head. Involuntarily, Habib groaned from the delicious sensation as he emerged from his sleep, his prick straining toward the tickling fingers that were making him squirm against his older cousin’s body. Aziz whispered into his ear in a firm, threatening tone, to be quiet. But the young boy, not accustomed to anyone’s touch on his already 4.5” erection, was not able to contain himself. Aziz pulled the boys body over and on top of his own, using his legs to trap Habib’s legs. He quickly took a sock on the floor next to the low bed and thrust it in Habib’s mouth to muffle the grunting boy. Then the other hand to hold the younger boy’s hands over his head and away from stopping the methodical masturbation of his helpless boy bone, Aziz continued his merciless milking. With a look of determination and lust, Aziz’ fingers continued to dance around the fevered prick tip of his cousin making the boy buck and stretch to escape the persistent, delicious frigging. Beneath Habib’s taut buttocks, clenching and grinding down from the overwhelming sensations on his cock knob, Aziz’s own 7” erection was sliding between the damp pajamas clinging to his cheeks, pushing the sweat moistened material of the younger boy’s pant bottoms up and against his anal slit, rubbing and prodding that sensitive portal, sending another tingling sensation through the shivering boy. The more Aziz masturbated his cousin, the more the younger boy’s grinding ass was masturbating the older boy’s turgid weiner, making it leak its own sticky lube, shooting electric sensations through the big teen.

The noise of the two boys grappling in the one bed, woke Terik in the other, and the thirteen year old crawled out of his bedding to come over to assist his brother with whom this game that had been going on for over two years. He took control of Habib’s arms, pulling them over Habib’s and Aziz’s heads from behind both boys. Terik’s own thin, sticky 5” pricklet was thrust out of his baggy boxer shorts, rubbing over the face of his younger cousin as he sat behind them at the head of the bed. Now Aziz’s hands were free to roam uninhibited over Habib’s torso, one hand scratching over the boy’s already excited nipples creating feelings the young boy had never experienced. The other hand now sped up its sticky assault on the pre-teen’s fat, wet glans, his thumb scrubbing back and forth, driving Habib into gasping and grunting.

“Aaaaawwwwww, no Aziz, please… stop… don’t rub me… what are you doing… aaahhh, noooooooo! his high pitched boyish voice squeaked into the dirty sock gag. Aziz, fearful that his parents might hear his cousin’s entreaties, slapped his younger cousin hard enough to get his attention, quelling the loud groaning and pleading. Soon, the straining boy’s pricklet begin to throb and pulse, as Habib thrust his hips up in the air uncontrollably and his dry boy-cum burst upon him. For ten seconds, he felt he was going wild, his toes curling tight and his hips bouncing, while Aziz’s ruthless fingers twirled round and round the bloated boy boner, tantalizing the innocent boy. “Aaaaaeeeeeiiiiiiii… aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh… aaaaaaaggghhhhhhhh!” Habib had squealed into the sock that effectively gagged him, and still his cousin thumbed the aching prick head, enjoying the instinctual response of the inexperienced boy, his cock flexing to accept more of the masturbating caress.

After that night, for the next two weeks, Habib was the toy of his cousins, learning how sexual an animal he was, cowed by the older more worldly boys and their friends. His pricklet enjoyed constant dry cums, as his cousins and the other boys, took advantage of their younger visitor. For his part, in spite of his protests, Habib loved the sweet masturbation of his pricklet, amazed by the sensation created by the dancing fingers, and suddenly aware that sex was pleasurable. He knew it was wrong, and even though he did not play with himself when he returned to Beirut, he knew that sex would make his penis throb with pleasure. He waited patiently for the next six years, hoping the time for him to marry would come sooner than later, and end his furtive frottage at night that had to stop just before his cock exploded in need and desperation. There were occasional wet dreams, and while wrestling with another boy he had ejaculated reflexively from the contact and rubbing of the bodies against one another. But until he went to the United States and was freed from the constraints of his family’s strict observance, Habib had ached for sexual release like that he had experienced with his cousin years earlier. In America he no longer needed to masturbate because girls were more than willing to make love to his turgid cock. Now, he was about to return the days of his cousins’ humiliation of his handsome manhood, and the incredible sensations of his bulging prick head being masturbated ruthlessly into submission.

I slipped on a glove that I had developed for myself, but could not stand to use when I masturbated. The index finger, fuck finger, and thumb were all covered in the same horse-hair bristles that were now driving the bound and gagged man nearly insane on the small anal prod secured in a sliding sleeve up his bung. The ticklish bristles now sliding back and forth in Habib’s rectum, gently scrubbing his walnut sized prostate, were wrenching the same groans and shouts into his gag that his cousins’ masturbation had evoked years before. Once my glove was was on my hand, I dipped the fingers into a bowl of lubricant, and reaching up under the bound man, I grasped his involuntary erection. I started by just grazing the shaft, sliding the firm bristles, softened by the lubricant, up and down the thick pole. With my other hand, I reached under and scratched his stiff teats, adding to the delicious sexual arousal experienced by the confused captive. What had this to do with terrorism… was this what was happening at Guantanamo in Cuba to the Muslim detainees?

“You see Habib, we must be sure, we know what you are hiding… and as long as you continue to dissemble, I’m going to have to find ways to get you to confess.” These words slipped from mouth with easy detachment, while my fingers were busy doing their magic on the hunky body trussed next to me. My teasing fingers finger reached the corona and glans of Habib’s fat cock head, and that’s when the squealing really began. I did not want to make his cock sore, so I dipped the finger-tips in more lubricant, and then just barely grazed the circumcision scar, the flange, and the glans of the helpless security guard. I watched as his toes alternated from clenching tight and flicking from the intense tickling, and his fingers scrabbled furtively, but there was nothing he could do and nowhere to move his thrusting hips but into my merciless fingers. The slow pistoning of the small buzzing anal prod, coupled with the edging of his flexing glans by my slowing moving bristle covered finger-tips, made Habib a drooling madman. For one hour, I brought him desperately close, his wide piss lips opening to burp sap as if precursor to an imminent ejaculation. But I would stop, and whisper earnest comments about his need to cooperate, giving him enough respite to allow me to start again, thumbing his fat prick tip and gently scratching, pinching and tugging his sensitive nips.

I would have loved to slip my tongue into his ears and lick them out, giving him one more sensation to deal with, but I contented myself with an occasional scrabble of my fingernails across his gasping abdominals, or by reaching down to his feet hanging over the edge of the chair, my bristle covered finger scraping up and down his flexing, crinkling soles. By simply using these gentle, almost purely ticklish types of touches, I could make Habib’s prong, so unused to tactile manipulation, pulse and throb from the unusual but stimulating handlng. After an hour, with his prick desperate to squirt, I pulled the erection back between his legs and attached an automated, vibrating pussy that I had purchased and modified. Once a cock was inserted into the soft plastic sleeve, with its interior backed with an emulsion that allowed the plastic to move and mould to the cock that was intended to fuck it, the nozzle was tightened around the shaft at the preferred distance between root and corona. In this case, I latched it just behind the flange so that the overwrought cock knob was basted by the lubrication and soft plastic, but the vibrating and squeezing from the auto-suction, was constrained to the cock knob. As much as Habib wanted to cum, his shaft would not be stimulated, and at the angle his cock was being pulled back between his legs, he would remain hard but unable to spunk. Time for me to leave him with words of encouragement.

“Habib… I truly regret that you have chosen to be so uncooperative. I had hoped that we could make this an easy conversation, but unfortunately, you have not made that conversation possible. I am going to have to speak with your friend, Melik. I hope he is not as stubborn as you.” Habib did not turn his head toward me, he was too exhausted from his thrashing and efforts to avoid the milking he had been enduring, but he barely shook his head back and forth, his eyes closed and perspiration falling from his face, implying “no….no….” I switched on the cock pump as I walked out of the room, and smiled as I saw Habib’s toes curl one more time from the sweet sucking that was now pulling on his fat cock knob.

Melik was in another room, unable to hear anything that had transpired. He had been awake for almost an hour, naked, and stretched out on his reclining chair. His smaller frame was tautly bound, with legs already spread and attached to the stirrups and his arms connected over his head. He had no blindfold, nor gag. I came in wearing wraparound dark glasses that obscured my face and a cold expression that would leave him nervous and wondering.

I pulled up another chair, and another rolling table with my instruments and tools. Melik turned his head, and his eyes widened when he saw the table and its bizarre assortment of implements. “Your friend has failed to cooperate with us, and I must tell you that was a mistake. By implication, you are now associated with him as a suspect. If I do not get answers from you that make sense, I will be turning both of you over to federal authorities for detainment.”

“What do you want… we are innocent. We are here lawfully, we immigrated, check our papers. What have we done?” His accent thickened with fear, and his eyes and expression told me I had him without even trying.

“Papers are easily forged, but more importantly, we know that legal immigrants have joined in other countries like Britain, to form cells for terrorist activities. Just because you and Habib immigrated legally does not mean you are not conspiring to engage in actions detrimental to the government of the United States. And look at these pictures of you and Habib with white women in your apartment. It’s clear that you are interested in engaging in promiscuous sexual activity, what other lawless behavior are you both involved in?”

Melik looked at the photos of himself and Habib, their thick prongs wet and glistening in the photos, lodged into the tight pussies of various snatch they had brought to their apartment to fuck. “How did they get these pictures…” Melik’s confused brain pondered, embarrassed and humiliated by the exposure of his private life before strangers---how many people had seen his prick reaming out pussy with wild abandon. As he stared mesmerized at the blown up pictures I had placed on a music stand, I switched on a television with a dvd player and he suddenly saw edited clips of he and Habib, performing in the same scenes on video that were captured in the still photos. As he watched, dumbfounded, I pulled out a head harness with a mouthpiece. I pinched his nostrils, and as he opened his mouth to object, I slipped the mouthpiece in and quickly buckled the harness. Melik’s eyes opened wide and he bellowed into the effective gag, fearful of what was to come, especially when I screwed into the female opening of the mouthpiece a male nozzle attached to a quarter-inch length of tubing. The tubing was connected to a water bottle hanging from a rolling stand, like ones you would see in the hospital providing liquids to patients in their rooms. Once I finished my preparations, I opened the flow of liquid from the bottle by loosening a clamp on the tubing, allowing a stream of tasteless clear liquid to flood the tubing and enter Melik’s mouth in a modulated drip that he could not stop but was slow enough to allow him to swallow without gagging. Then I spoke.

“This liquid will help you do the right thing, if you are indeed innocent, Melik. The drug will encourage you to speak to truth.” As he listened, thinking I had given him some type of truth serum, I smiled inwardly because what I had given him was a kind of roofie combined with a drug that would make him completely susceptible to suggestion. In addidtin, I had spiced it with enough Viagra to ensure the unflagging cooperation of his thick, fat knobbed cock. I walked out of the room, looking at my watch, figuring it would take about fifteen minutes to take full effect.

When I returned, I could smile openly since Melik’s eyes were shut, and he seemed to be panting softly. His six inch cudgel, almost too thick for my hand to fit around, curved wickedly up to his firm abdominals, and its wide, deep pisswell was overflowing with sticky, clear sap that left a pool on his stomach in and around his navel. Jesus, what a huge cock knob… a glans for the ages. No wonder the girls in Melik’s bedroom always purred and squealed when he fucked them, that knob could batter a clit into submission and would fill any womb and cervix snugly, touching every joy spot. And it made sense why he would hiss and grunt when girls gave him head, slurping their small, tight mouths around his leaky glans, letting their tongues dance around his nerve studded corona and lashing his circumcision scar until he spat wads of thick spooge over their tongues and deep into their throats. Fuck, I wish I had been on the receiving end of each ejaculation I had caught on film over the past three months… but I would make up for lost time--that was for sure.

“Tell me Melik, are you ready to provide me with the information I seek?”

I almost could not understand his response, his accent was not only thick now, it was slurred by the action of the drugs. “What is it that you waaaannt… I don’t know anything… pleeeaase… pleaaassseee…” I let one hand rest on his chest, and my index finger began a gently scratch just beneath his mounded pec… and as I spoke, his nipple thrust its angry head out of the black halo of hair that circled the erectile nub as if to try and protect it.

“I will need to ask you questions about your youth Melik, will you agree to answer me truthfully? Tell me that you will answer me truthfully.”

The dazed boy nodded his head, and said through his slurred voice, that he would answer me truthfully. Now we were cooking. He was surrendering to the power of suggestion, and whatever I wanted to know, and whatever I wanted to do, the weaker of the two young men would let me do. My creeping finger pushed through the protective forest of hair around his nipple, and with unerring precision, my nail reached the nubbin and began a to gently scratch the ticklish tit tip.

“AAaahhhhhhh… nnnnnooooooo… whaaat are you doooing… ooohhh…” Melik crooned as his chest thrust up involuntarily, seeking more of the delicious attention for his whorish tit. The hard nubbin fairly throbbed from the sensations caused by my experienced fingernail, bringing a blush to the dark face, embarrassed by the reaction I had drawn from him. No masculine or upstanding Muslim man would admit to enjoying worldly pleasures of his body outside the secret confines of his wife’s bedroom. No matter the sins committed, there could be no public admission, and certainly no surrender to another man… an abomination.

“Yes, that’s it Melik, now you’re being more cooperative. Just keep cooperating and you will be able to go home. Do you understand?” My index finger was joined by my thumb, and I grasped the stiff teat and twirled my fingers around it… plucking and tweaking. Melik nodded his head, without even opening his eyes, deep within the stupor caused by the drugs and willingness to do anything to go home. But his nipple stayed firm and his chest continued to slightly thrust upwards to enjoy the masturbation of his tit flesh.

The drugs were clearly doing their magic, and he was disoriented and confused at best, fully susceptible to whatever I would suggest. I leaned down and whispered into his ear: “Tell me Melik, when did you learn how to spit cum… to masturbate that big penis of yours, the one that got you into trouble with us….If you tell me how you got your lessons in ejaculation and masturbation, perhaps I can let you go.” My question would have been inane to a sensible man, but the drug cocktail, the bondage, the isolation and the sexual stimulation were all working to render Melik into my hands, and confuse him about what he needed to do to obtain his freedom.

“Ooooooowwwwww… I cannot say… I should not say….” I increased the speed of my tweaking his nipples, and added to that the unexpected use of the index finger and thumb of my other hand on his defenseless cock head beneath his damp briefs…. “Aaaaaiiiiiiieeee…. No, no, oooooooohhhhhhhh God… help me….” My thumb grazed back and forth over the taut circumcision scar, flicking the fat lobes of his glans, making him flex and his ass reflexively grind to escape the artificial sensitivity induced by the drugs. What a gorgeous animal, helpless and responding by instinct, and now leaking his own sticky clear pre-snot.

“Tell me, Melik… answer my question, you want to go home, so answer my question.” My fingers continued their dual assault on his stiff teats and his drooling prick knob, teasing out the answer as his hips rose and fell on the chair, bouncing in response to the focused stimulation.

“Aaaaaggghhhhh, God….aaaawwwwww… I… I… I learned when I was a boy… at the scout camp… aaaaahhhhhh… an older boy… aaaaaggggghhh.” Melik burbled out a story of his youth, one of the many stories boys and men hold to themselves, especially straight Muslim men who cannot admit to themselves that their cocks are more important than gender or orientation, and that sexual relief and satisfaction know neither. At a scout camp in the Lebanese summer of Melik’s eleventh year, he met an older boy, Hassan, who was fifteen. Hassan had immigrated with his family from Turkey because of his father’s work for a Turkish company in Beirut. Often alone at home as a boy, Hassan was a tall and handsome, with a man’s body at fifteen, and a brooding countenance. He had learned at an early age from other boys how to enjoy pleasures of the cock, and how easy it was to introduce other boys into secret games. The more Western life in Turkey had also given Hassan exposure to the internet and culture that was forbidden to most Muslim youth. The boys at the summer camp were easy targets for his handsome presence, and the two week timeframe made it easy to have his pleasures without risking too much chance of exposure. He quickly picked up the admiration of the husky eleven year old boy at the camp. Once he noticed the hero-worship of the younger boy and his relatively mature pre-teen body, Hassan persuaded the scout master to allow the two to share a tent-cabin.

The second night, the younger boy awoke to sensations he had never experienced. His boy prong had been erect on more than one occasion in the morning, but he had learned to be patient and it would go down before he had to piss. But on this occasion, he was wakened by a tickling sensation on the knob of his pricklet. Hassan’s big thumb, sticky from Melik’s own lubricant, was stroking back and forth over the boy’s bulbous prick tip. Melik instinctively closed his thighs on the hand that was inside his sleeping bag and between his legs… but the strong fingers persisted and the sensation overwhelmed him. He suddenly spread his legs wide, his toes pointing from the stunning sensation. He alternated opening and closing his thigs, but he could not stop the sensations or his surrender to them, and within minutes, he felt himself breathing faster, his ass grinding into the sleeping bag, and then his hips involuntarily thrusting up as his prong expanded and his glans went glass smooth. Hassan kept strumming the boy’s rod, thumbing the overwrought knob, and making the boy hunch and jerk. At one point, Hassan, had to put his hand over Melik’s mouth to prevent his loud hissing and groaning from waking others in nearby tents.

Melik knew what he had allowed Hassan to do was wrong, but he was afraid of what the scout master might say if he told what happened and asked to move to another tent. Maybe the scout master would wonder why he spoke of such nasty things, and worse yet, what if Hassan denied it and claimed it was Melik who had initiated the actions and that he, Hassan, had been forced to stop him. No, it was best to keep quiet… and he did. So that was not the last night Melik learned the pleasures of masturbation. The bigger boy used him for pleasure, making him service his thick, curved prong. By the last two nights of the two-week camp, Melik was sleeping in the same bag as Hassan. After carefully masturbating the older boy’s 9 inch cock, bringing him to panting, shuddering, huge ejaculations, he would be required to lie on his back on top of Hassan’s long, lean torso. The older boy would use his long, strong limbs to hook around and stretch Melik’s legs, while his arms went under the younger boy’s armpits to trap him on top of his bigger body. Then he would insert his thick digits into the younger boy’s mouth, making him lick the fingers on one hand. Once Melik had humbled himself like a baby, sucking the thrusting fingers that explored his mouth, and tickled his platte, Hassan would grip the eleven year old’s thick 4” erection and begin a slow, languid process of milking his young tent-mate to two and sometimes three explosive, dry cums. Melik would buck as the overwhelming sensations drove him to involuntary gyrations, and played a brave game of resistance. But Hassan was easily able to fend off the boy’s feeble attempts to pull the older boy’s fingers off of his pulsing penis. For his part, Hassan would distract him by pinching, plucking, gently twisting and scratching his strangely sensitive tits, occasionally tickling him under his arms, in his navel, and across his belly. When Hassan’s long, thin fingers would reach under the boy’s testicles and search out his private and sensitive anal slit, the sensation would make him lose control and leave his penis undefended for Hassan’s experienced fingers to roil and work, leading inevitably to the incredible, writhing cums. The constant distractions would also prevent Melik from having the strength to resist the older boy after the first cum, so his ticklish glans was often trapped in the rolling, sweat and pre-cum lubricated fist of the older boy. Melik and his penis secretly loved the amazing sensations which were produced by the full plam strokes up his shaft and over his aching knob. Over and over the older boy’s soft and yet calloused palm would slide up and down the shaft, and across the knob, driving the younger boy relentlessly up to the wrenching cums… where his pricklet would throb and pulse for up to fifteen seconds, especially if Hassan would circle his fingers and drag them against the corona as the boy thrashed his way through his cum.

As Melik slurred his way through this memory, my own hand stroked up and down his now mature, thick, fat knobbed shaft, mimicking the route taken by Hassan’s teenage assault. My other hand strayed from his nipples to his testicles, and tickled under the heavy nut sack, now so full and tight under his shaft. Finally, I breached his most sacred portal, a location forbidden except to idolaters. I slipped on a finger vibrator and slid it between his firm ass cheeks now struggling to keep me at bay. Finding his ragged anal slit and dancing up and down the lips as Hassan once had, I upped the ante by inserting my finger-tip just inside his sphincter after patiently outlasting his stubborn and determined resistance. Melik’s cock hardened reflexively after the buzzing intrusion just inside his nether hole made the sexy captive whine and plead for something, a hoped for reprieve but most likely it was release: “AAAaaaaaaagggghhhhh Gaaawwwwwddd…” he howled with his sexy accent. “What are you doing to me… ooooooooohhhhhh pleeeeaaassse… oh pleeeaassseee… aaaaaahhhhhh.” I paused only long enough to attach clips with electric wires on his protruding, rubbery nipples, his frenulum, underneath his balls, and to slide a small, short prod with a similar wire into his unprotected bung. When I turned the current on suddenly at these locations, the shock (no pun intended), was another distraction to this now big boy, and his penis was left once again open to my ruthless ministrations. As long as I was focusing attention on his bulging prick, Melik could hardly focus. Only when I slid the prod up two inches into his rectum and it begin delivering its wicked electrical buzz on his defenseless prostate, did Melik put up a fuss. To ‘calm’ him, or rather distract him, I fully activated the electrical charges that buzzed and zapped his ripe titties, pulsed through his cock knob and balls, and made his ass muscles squeeze tight from the affect on his prostate. His ass lifted off the table, and he helplessly tried to shut his legs as if to squeeze out the pulsing intruder as if it was a stubborn turd. But the bonds held him fast and the prod did its wicked magic, driving him helplessly to a gigantic ejaculation.

I went back to masturbating his shaft, but this time with the same glove I used on Habib. After two minutes of agonizing resistance, the overwhelming tickle on his bloated fuck tip, coupled with the ruthless invasion of his rectum and zapping electrical flicks of his tit nubs, sent Melik over the edge. I of course reduced my efforts so that the tension grew and grew, making him climb up to his shattering cum with agonizing patience. With a mightly thrust, he lifted his mid-section and screwed his betraying cock one last time into my torquing fist. Squeeze and twist, squeeze and twist, I applied a gentle but determined corkscrew motion around the sticky glans, now smooth as glass. Melik squealed one last bellowing cry for help or fuck lust, and rope and after sticky rope of tangy Muslim pride shot high above his body and landed with a splat on his chest, face and stomach. Shit, it was almost volcanic!

“AAAGGGGHHHHH….AAAAHHHHHHH…. EEEEEEIIIIIIIOOOOOOO!!!” he screamed as his huge ejaculation ripped through his body, my fist kept spinning round and round his erupting knob… making him buck like a fish out of water. For five full minutes, I teased and rubbed and twisted his agonized prick tip… milking it ruthlessly, and teasing out every last drop of semen in Melik’s fat nuts. When I finally stopped, his chest was heaving and his head stopped snapping back and forth to finally collapse in semi-consciousness.

I left him just in time to enter the other room and see Habib, strained against his bonds and rocketing bolts of thick tangy spooge onto the table, his toes curled tightly as the wicked milker kept working his fat prick knob as incessantly as my fist had worked poor Melik. I sat and watched him buck into oblivion… helplessly seeking to dislodge his big boy knob from the uncompromising sucking that would make a grown man faint from the sensation.

The pictures I sent both young men, less than a week after they found themselves unbound, and naked in empty rooms of a downtown building, sent the fear of their God through them. The accompanying letter assured them that without their full cooperation, copies of these pictures would be posted on the internet in this city, and available back at home for their families to see. In addition, hard copies were ready to be sent to their parents who might not ever use the internet. Both young men were beaten, and when they realized that I only expected them to cooperate with me for six months… and then they would be freed from any obligations, they reluctantly assented to my demands.

Tonight, Habib is slated to screw Melik until his younger friend cums without his prick being touched. It should not be too difficult, because I have a bristle condom for Habib to slide over his curved scimitar as it roots deeply up into Melik’s soft rectum. Instead, Habib will use his finger with little finger vibrators on Melik’s whorish tits, pinching and twisting them as his fingers buzz, making the rigid nubs into mini-pricks to be milked and masturbated in rhythm with the fucking. A week ago, it was Habib’s turn… but it was a different approach. I had Melik use a soft bristled brush on his friend’s turgid penis, (both are in cock restraints until they meet with me), while an automatic small fucking machine slid a ribbed and bump covered twisting four inch vibrating prod up his hole. The neat thing was that Habib’s legs were over his head, and his cock was aimed at a mouth funnel that would drain down his throat once his cock exploded a week’s worth of pent of gism into it. With the patience of a prophet, Melik gently tortured his friend’s throbbing, leaking, smooth glans over and over, and danced around the corona whenever he got to close to making Habib cum. Melik had learned that Habib would not spare him any agonizing indignity when I made him work his younger friend, so when it was his turn, he gladly returned the favor. I can still see the brush working relentlessly on Habib’s circumcision scar, finally driving him to a bucking, toe-curling, finger scrabbling cum, and lining his esophagus with a thick layer of his own tangy baby juice… helping him to develop a taste for something both boys would learn to enjoy before their time was through. With almost clinical efficiency, Melik basted the glans with the bristles as cum ejected from the wide piss lips, making sure Habib would near faint from the tickling his knob received from the cruel, maddening bristles as they scrubbed over the bloated fuck tip.

I am confident that I have done my part for homeland security, because it is without a doubt unlikely that these two young men would ever engage in any behavior that might land them in the clutches of a fiendish agent, like myself. But even more importantly, on those nights I spend with them, having their turgid prongs at my disposal, able to tie them down and tickle them from head to toe into howling blather, or to lay their trussed bodies over my lap for a good spanking, finger fuck, and to finally have them sitting on my lap gagged, bound and prick hard for a good round of bristle glove teasing, I realize that life can be extremely good. Don’t you think?

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Please write to me at [email protected]. I look forward to your suggestions and thoughts about the next Masturbation Chronicle.