Punk Kids or Brett's Big Boner 14

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 initiated by them and 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 teenagers which is regulated by law. These are fantasies for sexual private sexual enjoyment, not for emulation in real life.

I have not had the opportunity to write a major story, with the exception of one in collaboration with a colleague whose writing I admire. My stories are posted on Paulie’s Personal Web Site and on ASSGM.com. I would appreciate comments on my writing which may be a bit rusty. 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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Johnny Controls Cocks

Six months had passed since Johnny had taken control of Brent’s big boy penis. The athletic, handsome fourteen-year old had turned fifteen. He was still the star of the Pony Colt league, and the middle school baseball team. No batter could catch up to his fastball, and every girl in school had a crush on, or a fantasy about, him. But Brent was living a regulated life…his penis was no longer his own to control. Johnny, who had turned fourteen, had made Brent persuade Amy to become an unwitting part of his supervision of Brent’s constantly needy and erect cock. The cock control that Johnny now exercised over Brent’s boners kept Brent even more horny than he had been when he simply lusted for Amy and jacked off for his personal pleasure. Prior to submitting to Johnny’s supervision, Brent masturbated regularly to relieve his spunk filled balls, grinding his ass, twisting his cock knob, tickling his ass pucker to help him plant his feet on the bed and rise to thundering ejaculations, spitting ribbons of boy spunk. But after Johnny had forced him into the cock restraint, Brent was desperate for relief which only Johnny was allowed to give him, and only when he wanted to. Now to add to his woes, Johnny decided to enlist Amy into his plans for Brent’s big boy dick. Johnny contrived to have Brent beg Amy to help discipline him when he screwed up at school or in baseball. So with Johnny’s guidance, Brent regularly shared with Amy a series of infractions for which he would need to be punished. Amy, who was still the benefactor of Brent’s dexterous tongue, getting at least one series of orgasms each week as the teenage hunk was on his knees licking and sucking her leaking pussy and insatiable clit. Since they were boy friend and girl friend, Amy wanted to assist Brent in any way she could, and almost felt that he was allowing her into his private sanctum by asking for her to assist in disciplining him. In some sense, she was helping Brent be a better teenage boy, one who lived by the rules and remained under control. What she did not know, was just how much “under control” Brent was in fact.

Brent could not get enough of Amy’s pussy since it was the only “normal” sexual contact he was allowed, and it was the one time a week he had permission to be erect and leaking with a girl. He would do anything to sluice his tongue between Amy’s soft, swollen cunt lips, searching out for her growing clit, lavishing attention on in and also snaking his dextrous tongue into her snatch to scoop out the copious and flowing teenage girl juice. On one occasion he had gone under a cubicle desk at the public library deep in the stacks, lowered her shorts and panties, then licked her blond muff till her clit went rigid and throbbed uncontrollably. She had to put her head down on the desk and bite her sweater to keep from squealing out loud as Johnny’s insistent tongue rasped back and forth and over and around her spasming clitoris. She came at least three times as she squirted her tangy sauce onto his tongue and over his face. On another occasion, Brent had taken her behind the bleachers one night and pushed her legs over her head as he sucked her to a four cum climax, wrapping his tongue around her throbbing clit till she had to push his head off, and beg him to stop. Brent was hooked on Amy’s cunt juice, and lived to hear her beg and squeal when his tongue lapped through her puffy, sticky pussy lips, and curled around her thick, knobby clit, his rough index finger gently drilling deep into her cunt to stroke where his prick longed to be. On some occasions, he suckled her turgid tits and finger-banged her to a cum before he gave her the tonguing that she loved so much.

So when Brent asked her to help him with his discipline, Amy felt that was the least she could do. He could not let her touch his prick, except by rubbing him through his pants and briefs because of the sheath which Johnny used to restrain his penis. He made up an excuse that he was afraid that he could not control himself, and so to prevent any “accidents,” he would take care of her—both demonstrating his affection and his desire to please her. He persuaded her that he felt that the discipline was her contribution to their relationship, her way of showing how much she cared. At first it seemed strange, but if Brent thought it would help, she would do it. Besides, it was kind of exciting when she punished Brent. It made her cunt drool. In fact, after a while, they would administer Brent’s discipline first, and then Brent would lick her cunt, relieving the sweet itch that would develop when she disciplined him, making her pussy leak and her clit burn.

Brent obediently gave her the instructions he received from Johnny. He would explain that he had messed up at baseball practice, or some insignificant thing would happen in a game, like walking a batter. Or if he failed to complete a homework assignment, or got a grade below a “B” on a paper or quiz, or was late to class, that was cause for discipline. Amy suggested that he was being too hard on himself, but he insisted as Johnny had ordered him to. Then following Johnny’s direction, and already hard under his pants in anticipation of Amy’s hands on his ass, he would lower his jeans only, exposing his brief covered buns. He would lie over Amy’s lap, his prick hard, aching and throbbing, but still bound in its sheath and lock. Then she would spank his taut buttocks, feeling them tighten each time her palm smacked against the firm, hairy boy cheeks. Whack, whack, whack, whack….smacking her small hand over his warm glutes, making him squirm and grind his aching cock against her legs. Occasionally his squirming would shift his ass, and her hand would land in the crevice between his buttocks, landing into the cleft and slapping his twitching anus. “Aaagggghhhh he would grunt, his cock dripping and throbbing helplessly in the binding sheath, wishing he could strip and fuck Amy into oblivion. He could not cum though, and so the punishment was double, not only the feeling of her hands on his ass, but a raging erection that could not expand to an ejaculation. His prick would leak copiously, wetting the front of his briefs, but he would quickly pull up his jeans after she finished spanking him. Then he would begin to make-out with Amy, thrusting his tongue into her mouth using his tongue as a replacement for his prick, and squeezing her tits as he prepared her so he could lower her panties and finger and lick her to her orgasm. These sessions would leave him with blue balls, so that when he would finally get together with Johnny, he was actually grateful for the younger boy’s attentions to relieve is aching nuts.

When Johnny’s or Brent’s parents were away for a night or weekend, Johnny would arrange for a night together. Johnny would tie Brent down to the bed spread-eagled, remove his cock restraint, and then would start with his long, wiggling toes, to suck, lick, scratch and finger his way to the big boy’s ears. Brent’s handsome and athletic body would writhe and bounce as best it could, squealing with laughter as Johnny tickled him, groaning and pleading as his prick, his nipples, and his anus were teased to the edge of ejaculation. He’d keep Brent’s beautiful curved shaft throbbing, leaking all over his taut stomach muscles, but would only tease and briefly play with the aching boner making Johnny beg. “Fuck dude, please…pleaaaaasssseee, bring me off…shit, my nuts are killing me, common “J”, don’t hang me out dude, lemme shoot, fuck…lemme shoot…jerk me dude, jerk me hard….I’m yer slut…I’m yer bitch…make me cum dude…ooohhhhh Christ, make me fucking cum!” Johnny often paid special attention to Brent’s over-sized cock knob, the slick glans soaked with clear teen pre-fuck, and itching for someone’s touch. Soft bristles, electric tooth brushes, cotton garden gloves, finger massagers, and an electric glans cap (which Johnny made), were each used to make the older teen climb the ladder to a cum, only to be held under control until Johnny was ready to milk him.

“Don’t worry dude, you’re gonna fire like a cannon when I get you there, and then you’re gonna cum again, and again. We got all night, and I’m gonna milk you like a cow’s udder,” Johnny would say. Brent would groan, because he knew that Johnny also loved to torture his sensitive glans after he would ejaculate…then give him some time, and start all over again. Many a time Johnny smiled as Brent howled and pleaded as his thumb slid back and forth, over and around the bigger boy’s over-wrought glans after he had ejaculated, keeping the smooth skin taut, and creating a sensation that almost drove Brent insane. But Brent also knew that he was a whore for Johnny’s attentions. No one could suck his dick knob, or tickle his ass, or suck his toes, or ream out his navel or ears, like the punk. And as much as he hated to admit it, he loved having Johnny work his fat cock knob till it ached. Johnny would play Brent’s body like a musical instrument, making him squeal and squirm, leak and groan, beg and shoot…and shoot, and shoot. Fuck, the damn kid could milk him three or four times in a row, and his God damn prick would respond every time, hungry for Johnny’s roiling fist and talented fingers. The All-American junior-high hunk was a fucking boy-bitch for someone to play with his cock, and of all people, he was the teen-toy for a younger boy.

Johnny was naked on the bed, lying on his side against Brent’s warm, big body, his own throbbing boy dick leaking and rubbing against Brent’s hairy leg. The younger teen suckled on one of Brent’s stiff paps, and his fist closed around the fat cock head, palming and jerking it in the very way that made Brent sing like a girl. He was making Brent drive his athletic butt into the bed, then up to Johnny’s talented fist, hoping to achieve the cum he needed so bad. “Oh God dude, jerk my prick, common, I’ve been waiting for this all week, Christ, I fucking need this so bad, jeez, don’t fuck around, please, don’t play…jerk my meat, make me fucking shoot my scum…oooohhh yeah, there, right there, rub it, work it, milk me dude, please...fuck.…please!” Johnny’s cock would throb when Brent begged him, knowing that only a few months ago the big boy didn’t even know he existed, and would never have allowed Johnny to touch him, much less play with his prick whenever he wanted. Now he was a big-boy whore, constantly in need of Johnny to relieve him of his sticky, tangy teen sap, and willing ultimately to do anything to get that relief.

There were times when Brent would try to seduce Johnny into giving him relief…coming over to his house with an excuse to study, dressed in shorts with no t-shirt and in flip-flops, hoping that the sight of his already mature teenage body would persuade Johnny to strip and use him. But Johnny was in no hurry. After all, he had other boys and men to manage, others to milk and use. He had all the time and stock he needed to keep his libido satiated. But he loved to make Brent hope by suggesting things for him to do to earn Johnny’s approval. When he would come over, Johnny would make him lie back on the bed, lower his shorts to his ankles, lift his legs up to his chest and finger his hairy ass pucker. Brent would do it, even though he was completely humiliated, because he wanted desperately for Johnny to remove the cock restraint and let him cum. Instead, he often got bluer balls, a teased cock knob, along with itchy holes and hard tits, but no relief for his throbbing boy prong. Sometimes he had to bend over and grasp his ankles and ask Johnny to finger his hole. Sometimes he had to pull his feet to his head and suck his own toes. Sometimes he hand to masturbate his own cock knob with the restraint in place. All this for the few times Johnny would relent and then give Brent the excruciating ejaculations he wanted and needed. These rare opportunities and few times kept hope alive for Brent and others Johnny managed, making them willing to do anything to try and get the ejaculations they craved.

But when he had the teen tied down on his bed for a milking session, Johnny just kept toying with the bigger boy’s fat cock knob, thumbing the constantly expanding erectile tissue, then abandoning it just as Brent would reach a thrusting crescendo, ready to spit his seed. Up and down Johnny took Brent hunky body, making him stretch out his long, thick toes, or curl them, depending on the way he would toy with him. Fuck he loved to see Brent’s toes curl from the helpless need and attention. He would abandon the cock, and then slip his index finger up and into Johnny’s tight asshole, and spend at least fifteen minutes finger banging the straight teen. Shit, Brent would grunt and groan the loudest when Johnny’s insistent finger would rub back and forth over his taut fuck nut, wringing a delicious ache from his ass, and forcing him to tighten his butt cheeks from the intensity of the sensation. That’s when Brent’s toes would really curl tight, and he would tug at his bonds, grunting and squeezing his eyes shut, his penis throbbing to cum but left unattended. He knew if he came without permission, Johnny would punish him either by torturing his knob or denying him any further cums. So he would thrash and buck, struggling to keep himself under control.

“Dude, its time for you to get your cum…but you’re gonna have to cooperate, “kay…?”

“Fuck, anything, please, do me dude, do me now…!”

But Johnny was not going to let Brent off that easily. So as Brent babbled, asking for release, Johnny unwrapped the velcro on one leg, and attached the ankle to a rope and velcro restraint at the head of the bed. He did the same with the other ankle, and then began pulling a rope that was connected to the two. As he pulled, Brent’s long legs moved up, his knees bent, and then kept going. Johnny stopped, and tied off each of the ropes attached to the ankles to a bar running between each of the bedposts to give the bed stability. Now Brent was bent in half, his knees at his chest, and his ankles spread apart over this head. Johnny stuck several large, stuffed pillows under Brent’s lower back to support his body and prevent him from hurting himself. His ass was up and the furry trench was spread apart, the ragged cleft of his anus barely visible through the thick fur.

Johnny went up to the big boy feet flapping at the head of the bed on either side of Brent’s handsome face, the toes were again wriggling, and he grasped one of the feet and slipped the toes in his mouth, and began to suck on them. He looked down at Brent and smiled. Brent was not paying attention to Johnny. His body was folded to the point where his long, curved shaft was bobbing against his face, leaving sticky pre-cum tracks on his nose, lips and chin. That is what Johnny intended. He drew his fingernail directly down Brent’s pale, high arched sole and as he opened his mouth to squeal from the tickling, Johnny used his free hand to grasp Brent’s boner and slip it into the boy’s protesting mouth. Just like that, Brent had his fat cock head, and at least one inch of the shaft lodged in his mouth. Johnny watched as Brent’s Adam’s Apple moved as he swallowed and struggled to adjust his breathing. He grunted and tried to speak around his leaky knob, but the words were garbled, and came out as grunts “…hooooowwwwttttt, haaaaaakkkkkeee hithout……..nnnnggggghhhhhhhhhhh…. hhhhhoooouuuuttttt, mmmpppppphhhhh.” But Johnny just ignored Brent. It would be the first time the jock hunk would suck his own prick, but not the last.

Johnny got the electrical circlets for Brent’s nipples, and turned the transformer up. Immediately the hum and buzz of the circlets made Brent’s nipples go hard, and then Johnny took his free index finger and slowly dragged it back and forth over the anal pucker, now obscenely exposed. Then he scratched his fingernail against the sensitive lips, and as the knot spasmed, Johnny again slid his finger into the older boy’s bowels and up his rectum. He had dipped the finger into a jar of Vasaline, so it slid right up and in, and as he penetrated the writhing teen’s asshole, the finger slid against, then past the thick ring of Brent’s fuck nut. “HHHHHMMMMMmmmmmmppppphhhhh…. nnnnngngnngnnnnhhh, aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Brent squealed around his fat cock knob, mouthing it unconsciously as he gurgled and his throat vibrated from the sounds helplessly drawn from him.

“That’s it dude, slide your tongue and lips around that muther…suck it, yeah, suck it big boy…lick that fat cock and drink your own jizz….fuck yeah, eat your prick you slutty jocksucker!” Brent was out of control. His nipples were tingling from the electrical current, sending jolts directly to his ass, and as Johnny’s finger slowly reamed in and out, Brent clenched his ass muscles tight when his prostate was stroked. Then his penis expanded each time his ass flexed, the piss lips widening to drool more sap onto his lapping tongue. Now Brent’s toes were clenched tight, the fuck finger making him squeeze them along with his ass muscles, and he continued to gulp, swallowing his saliva and the drizzling pre-cum as he sucked on the tender prick tip.

Johnny was in heaven, his own penis drooling and his fist sliding back and forth over the tip, as he watched Brent’s handsome mouth work feverishly and uncontrolled over his own penis. Brent couldn’t stop himself. The finger in his ass, the tickling of his feet, and the electric current running through his nipples reduced him to a shuddering, twisting punk, sucking his own boner. The middle school’s jock stud was a boy cunt, tied and spread, used and teased, and sucking his own uncontrollable boner until it passed the point of no return!

“Faster dude, eat that prick…faster, suck it, suck hard…yeah, feels great doesn’t it, now you know that you can give yourself relief… you’ll be dreaming of putting your legs over your head every night so you can suck it, huh, wishing you could be a dick slut every night with your own fat prick….yeah dude, lick it and suck it….make it squirt, fuck yeah!” Brent’s eyes were glazed. He was twisting his lips and vacuuming his mouth around the bulging cock head. His lips would slide down about an inch, and then slide up and grip around the thick corona, his tongue lashing the sensitive flesh. He finally closed his eyes, and his rectum gripped Johnny’s fucking finger as it slid one last time over his prostate, squeezing so hard the younger boy thought Brent’s ass muscles might break his finger. He could see Brent’s prick expand one last time, and suddenly, Brent was gulping and his eyes went open staring with shock. “MMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNNN!” His prick was firing bolts of thick gism into his mouth, and he was forced to swallow fast in order to keep ahead of the sticky starch filling his mouth over and over. Even as he swallowed, he was whining, working desperately to avoid choking on his viscous teen sap.

“FUCK YEAH…drink it dude, drink it down, suck your own sap, better keep that tongue working on that prick knob…don’t stop, or I’ll slip the prod up your ass and turn it on while it’s resting on your fuck nut…so keep sucking dude…suck it hard.” Johnny’s exhortations kept Brent working his lips and tongue, even after the cum stopped drooling from his prick. It had been so long, the cock would not lose its firmness, and the glans was still expanded within the hot, sucking confines of it’s owners mouth. Now Brent closed his eyes again and groaned out loud, “aaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” over and over, from the sensitivity of his tongue rasping over and over the helpless, captive prick tip. Finally Johnny allowed him to stop. The bigger boy collapsed as his legs were unloosened, and he gasped for air as Johnny went to the bonds to begin to release him.

Soon, Brent was tied down again, and in fifteen minutes, Johnny was lying between his hairy legs, begining to masturbate the big teen, using two fingers of a medical glove with the head of a child’s toothbrush glued to the finger pad of his thumb and index finger, each covered with the short, soft brush bristles. Dipped in the Vaseline, Johnny went back to pinching and plying Brent’s stiff teats now free from the electric current, and mauling the still stiff prick shaft and the always reliable prick knob, waiting for its dose of agonizing attention. Within thirty minutes, Brent went through another howling ejaculation, saying anything Brent wanted him to say, and making his mouth as dirty and slutty as the younger teen demanded. Later in the early morning hours, Johnny woke up Brent, who remained tethered, one more time. Using the anal prod and his own now experienced thirteen year old fist, he worked another exciting performance out of Brent, making the bigger boy groan, plead and writhe through one more helpless ejaculation, his fat knob only able to drool cum, but still throbbing and shuddering from the sensations. Now matter how he protested, Brent always responded to the stimulation, his all-American looks and demeanor betrayed by the ever whorish lust that made his cock and the rest of his hunky body respond to any touch. The next morning, Johnny helped the teenage hunk piss and shit, overseeing and observing every normally private function---shaking his penis off and wiping his asshole, then gave him an enema, and showering him. During the shower he could not resist playing with the big boy body one more time. He tied Brent’s arms up over the shower head, then he milked Brent with his mouth and fist one last time, enjoying how the big boy thrust his hips automatically to surrender to the sucking mouth on his tingling glans; closing his eyes and yielding to fingers reaching up to pluck his tits and under his balls to finger Brent’s boy hole. Johnny was on top of the world, he was finally in complete control of other guy’s cocks, both big boys and men. But most of all, he had fully and completely captured Brent McDermott’s big boy boner…and had total control of it.

Nor was Brent his only success. Perhaps the most fulfilling capture for Johnny was Officer Connor Anderson. After discovering him on one of his tapes of Father Richardson’s confessional, he had him join on a regular basis with others and for private sessions. His most recent private session with the married police officer was one of the most fulfilling he’d experienced.

Anderson was sullen, and serious each time he met with Johnny. It was beyond his comprehension that he could be under the control of a 13-14 year old punk kid, a kid who did not need a gun or his fists to keep a tough guy like Connor Anderson in line. Here was a mature, masculine, strong, athletic young male, trained to use deadly force and hold his own on the streets. He had dragged in punk kids from twelve to twenty and made them cry like babies for mercy, but now, at least once a month, he was on his knees, usually bound, letting this fucked up kid milk his thick, unprincipled prick. It was enough that his cock was now caged, so no more satisfying blow jobs from the faggot priest. But to protect his reputation in the station, he had to let this kid who was barely old enough to play with his own pud, work his bloated cock head till it screamed to cum…and eventually did, inundating everything around it in thick, tangy sauce. Then the screaming was usually coming from Connor, begging the little bastard to stop torturing his sensitive knob after he’d spewed his load.

At their most recent session, in a safe house used by the cops to which Anderson had access, the big boy cop was bound on the queen size iron bed in the main bedroom. He was on his back, with his wrists bound to this ankles, his legs spread by a broom handle to which his ankles were also tied. Connor had his hat on, and his Sam Browne belt, but he was naked and trussed. He also had a ball gag conveniently stuffed into his mouth, preventing him from saying anything to Johnny. With a triangular pillow underneath his lower back to support him, Connor was spread open like a big dicked dish for Johnny to enjoy, and enjoy it he was. The chances of getting so straight-acting, and straight-believing a guy as mature as Connor was unlikely. It was only because Anderson was scared of being kicked off the local constabulary, or ostracized as being a faggot, that he agreed to the blackmail that had him tied up like a dumb-and-full-of-cum dipshit. His mind worked feverishly to find a way to escape from his predicament. Johnny knew it might not last, and he was determined to “milk” the opportunity, so to speak, as long as he could.

In that position, his hairy ass trench was deliciously displayed and the pink, ragged slit of his anus was barely visible behind the thick, blond fur that was wedged between his firm glutes. As usual, his short, but unusually thick cudgel was ramrod stiff, its bulging knob, with its oversized fat plum head, sopping in the copious pre-slop that dripped from the moment Connor got hard. His teats were stiff cones too, thrusting through the forest of blond on his chest and swirling around his nipples, and Connor’s toes unconsciously and reflexively curled and unfurled, the extra long index toe looking like it was flipping Johnny the bird for his hated control over the police officer. Even Connor’s toes had tufts of blond hair on the thick, long digits at their knuckles. But Johnny was unconcerned about Connor Anderson’s anger and angst. He had pulled the young, trussed man to the edge of the bed so his asshole and butt cheeks were fully exposed to his ministrations, as well as the pale, smooth soles of his big, muscled feet. And in his hand, Johnny had a small fly-swatter, one he hand found in the shed out in the back yard; perfect for a tanning of the firm, hairy ass mounds of a bound law enforcement officer. The fly-swatter was obviously a toy, made of smooth and flexible plastic for a child to use. So it’s coverage and sting were already limited. But Johnny has improvised it, adding a layer of bristles that he had carefully pruned from a wide, 6-inch painter’s brush. You don’t find brushes much anymore, but this one was full of dust and cobwebs in the shed, and clearly of no use to Johnny’s father anymore. Still, it would serve a useful life cut into quarter inch bunches and glued through the tiny openings of the fly-swatter. Now it was time to try his device out.

Connor’s eyes had widened when he saw the little fly-swatter, with its coating of short, stiff bristles. His toes reflexively curled, and his ass pucker tightened, as he shouted incoherently into the ball-gag: “Nnnnnnnnnnnnoooooo….. nnnnnggggggghhh, sssssstttttttoooooo… pppppphhhhh, ssssshhhhhhhhiiiiiii…. ttttttpppphhhh, nnnppppphh!.

Johnny let Officer Anderson plead a bit more, his babbling into the gag making no sense and without any hope of persuading his 13 year old captor. When Connor tried to buck away from the edge of the bed where he lay so exposed, that was when Johnny brought the flexible swatter down with a spat on Connor’s firm globes! “Swat…. Swat…. Swat…. Swat…. Swat…. Slap….. Slap…. Slap!” The firm, pale mounds, covered in thick blond fur, turned bright red, and just within the crack, the exposed slit winked from each resounding contact of the swatter and ass. Connor was helpless, and once again hard as a rock…his prick slapping against his firm abdominals as he futilely ground his ass into the bed, then bounced upwards, in some weird hope of escaping from the stinging blows. But with careful precision, they continued, and his cock ached from the fucking need to shoot a load despite his humiliation. “Whap, Whap, Whap, Whap….” The steady rain of slaps continued.

“AAAAAAAAiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee, nnnnnnpppppppphhhhhhhooooooo, aaaaaawwwwwww ggggggoooooooodddddmmmm….. oooooooohhhhhhh…. nnnnnnoooppphhhh, fuc…ph!”

Johnny smiled broadly looking right into the terrified eyes of the older police officer, loving it as the muscled cop’s body was unable to escape the rain of smacks that peppered his ass cheeks. And now Johnny diversified his target, making sure to confuse his squealing victim. First on one pale sole, then on the other, then into the furred crack to scrape the bristles against the ragged anal slit, then against the exposed testicles, and most importantly across the fat, broad glans of his sticky wet prick head. Occasionally, Johnny was even able to land a blow on Connor’s chest, seeking out the rubbery teats that seemed to like the bristles scratching across them. The bristles took much of the pain out of the swats, but never the less they hit with intensity and the firm little hairs scratched whatever they made contact with. On Connor’s feet, they tickled insanely, on his balls they scratched even as the swatter caused the large nuts to ache, on his ass slit they scraped making his tighten his sphincter as much as possible to avoid any penetration beyond the surface, and over his leaky cock tip, they wrenched loud exclamations into the gag from the combination of intense tickling of his glans and scratching at the same time. His nipples just seemed to be harder and angrier as they poked up and out from the edge of firm, jutting pecs.

For twenty minutes, Johnny worked on the bound and sweating police officer, driving him insane from the wicked sensations. Then, grasping a toothbrush he had brought with him, he went to work on Connor’s bound feet, brushing back and forth over the smooth sole, under the long, thick toes, and into the high arch. The tooth brush tickled the cop into gasping submission while Johnny then grasped his sticky boner at the same time, and slowly, every so slowly, masturbated the now sensitive and itching cock knob in his teenage fist. Connor wanted desperately to shout curses at the punk kid who was torturing him so sweetly, and to scrunch his feet so that the maddening tooth brush could not tickle him, but he was unable to do either, so he just bellowed into the gag, and finally shot wads and wads of thick cop gism into the palming fist that would not release him from its maddening and determined grip.

“NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…. AAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE…. AAAAAHHHHHH! He squealed in horror as the fist kept up its unrelenting massage on his spitting, expanded, bloated, cock knob. But the brush on his feet, distracting him, prevented him from concentrating on the desperate sensations on his over-wrought glans. That was just the beginning. Later, Johnny would slide a bristle finger up Connor’s tightly clenched anus, scratching and tickling the entrance to his male fortress, and gradually slithering up to find his fat, hard fuck nut. Then he masturbated the cop from the inside out, using his fist as a sleeve into which the bucking policeman would spasmodically slide his still cum sticky fuck stick, as he moved haplessly to avoid the insistent frigging deep up his rectum. ‘MMMMPPPPPPHHHHHH! AAAAAWWWWWKKKKKK! NNNNNOOOOOOGGH!”

Connor Anderson got the cum relief he had been seeking, but not the way he wanted it. He came five times on that bed, the fifth and last with a lubricated cotton garden glove wanking his inflamed cock knob into submission one last time while a whirring vibrator tickled his sore fuck nut to encourage him. But even when Johnny showered the defeated and exhausted cop later in the bathroom to clean him up, (still bound for Johnny’s protection), the officer’s unruly prick still stiffened. Now it was completely under the control and whim of its thirteen year-old master. He did not cum again, but between tit twists and soapy palming, Connor Anderson was erect when he locked back into his cock sheath that would keep him horny and desperate until the next milking session at Johnny’s hands. Fuck Johnny loved his work!

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