Anthony was an incredibly masculine high school senior, with sharp piercing eyes and a mischievous, dimpled smile framed with soft pink lips.
He had wide shoulders and muscular arms with biceps that protruded through the short sleeves of his tight Hollister tee. He’d rub his hand under his shirt, across his toned stomach, lifting it and exposing his chiseled abdomen and the gentle trail of soft hairs running from his naval down into his shorts.
Anthony was in my gym class when I was a freshmen and he was a senior. I was quiet and had chosen a locker in the back of the locker room, not knowing that he and his friends would also change back there. I was young and toned, but thin, especially so changing next to him and his friends.
They were all seniors in high school but they were men. They shaved, or if they chose, grew chinstraps to prove their manhood. They drank and partied. They sprayed cologne. They worked out, resulting in tight six-packs and bulging chests. The sole reason behind all of this, the working out, the grooming, and the drinking: was sex. And it worked. They fucked the easy, new, freshmen girls all the way up to the seniors they had been hooking up with for years now. And what was even more important than fucking them, was talking about it.
I heard stories in that locker room that I otherwise never would have been able to imagine. They talked about porn (sometimes watching it on their phones before the class began), jerking off, and girls. They talked about girls they had fucked, or had just gotten head from, and the girls that they were trying to fuck. Innocent girls, whom I had known, that would seemingly do anything that these boys wanted. And why wouldn’t they?
(Part 1)
The guys, though nice enough, soon came to understand the different worlds that we lived in and often jokingly included me in their risqué conversations. They found humor in the shock I had in their stories, as much as I may have tried to hide it. When they thought that I had become too comfortable, they would try to bring up something even wilder.
One day, Anthony called my name and I turned around to see him completely naked wagging his limp cock in his hands as they all cackled in laughter at my utter shock. As their laughter filled the locker room I remember seeing the perfectly shaped pink head, long smooth shaft and his large, low-hanging balls, as I too masked my shock by joining in with awkward laughter.
They would pounce on somebody when they least expected it, pretending to dry hump each other with the exaggerated moans of a bad porno. If anybody ever bent over to pick something up, they could count on being mounted by a friend that would moan their name and pretend to thrust against them. It was as though they were so unbelievably straight and masculine, that they acted gay for a laugh.
I was able to watch from a far without being dragged into these jokes for sometime, but nothing lasts forever.
Everybody was changing for gym, and just as I was pulling my shirt over my head I felt somebody grab my neck and guide me into a bending position. I heard Anthony start moaning heavily as his hips slammed against my ass. He pulled my shirt off from my head and I saw the other guys laughing as they watched. Anthony couldn’t help but laugh at his own joke through his hyperbolic moans. Just like everybody else would do when they were the victim of this prank, I laughed it off. I laughed as I felt Anthony’s warm, strong hands on my neck and lower back, and as I felt him against me through both of our shorts.
(Part 2)
One afternoon I had to make up a gym class after school and to my surprise Anthony was also making up the class that same day. It was late after school had ended and we had just returned to the locker room to change out of our sweat-drenched clothing. He had been telling me about a girl that he had just been able to get with that past weekend and when we had gotten into the locker room he showed me a naked picture she had sent him.
He had pulled his sweaty t-shirt that clung to every muscle on his body off over his head and began to take off his shorts, still talking about the girl he had fucked. As I too undressed, a few lockers down, I couldn’t have helped but noticed his throbbing, rock solid erection spring out of his gym shorts. My surprise must have been apparent because he laughed and began to casually stroke it. He jokingly moved toward me but my quick reaction to jump back only fueled the fire as he laughed even harder.
“I’m just playing man,” he told me as I feebly laughed.
He then stepped around a separate set of lockers for some reason, and I quickly tried to take advantage of the moment to change my own shorts without him seeing what I myself was hiding. But just as I had taken my shorts off, he had jumped out from behind the lockers and pinned me down, laughing. The intention, no matter how bizarre, was all in good fun. I tried laughing it off but he insisted on trying to tea bag me. Tea-bagging of course was a practical joke in which somebody rubs his balls on somebody else’s face.
I felt every ounce of his power and strength as he pinned me down, incapable of escape. He turned me over, laying me on my back as he towered over me. I looked up, seeing every definition on his built frame and the dimples on his cheeks. He laughed as he taunted me, setting his hard cock on my face as I winced and pleaded through laughs.
“I’m not moving until you lick it, man, you gotta lick it come on,” he laughed.
(Part 3)
I resisted for just as long as I needed to without giving myself up. But as he continued to persist, I quickly brushed my tense tongue against the tip of his pulsing dick.
“Are you joking? That doesn’t count, bro. Let me show you,” he said as he led his dick against my pursed lips. “Come on man, open up,” he laughed.
I opened my mouth, as if I was going to say no, just enough for him to force it in the rest of the way if he really wanted to. And he did.
Somewhere along the line his prank and dimpled laughter turned into him gently leading his cock in and out of my astounded mouth as he softly moaned. He repositioned himself and sat on the bench as I knelt before him, his grown, forceful hands guiding my head over his throbbing cock, as far down as I could possibly go.
At one point he had moved his hands and I looked up to see that he was now holding his cell phone in his hands, recording me as I went down on him.
“Tell me how much you love it,” he said.
I felt myself lift my head and say, “It’s so good.”
And just like that I was a slave to him. I would be there, anytime, for anything, not only because of my own desire, but also because of the video he had just taken—a video that could destroy me.
(Part 4)
In order to keep that video private, I had to keep Anthony happy, something that I myself was for the most part happy to do.
For months he had me stay after school in that same locker room, where he quickly began bending me over and thrusting in and out of my tight hole as my screams and moans echoed through the empty school. He would pull me into closets in the middle of the school day, bringing me to my knees. As time progressed it became more and more frequent. Soon enough he was texting me, leaving me with no choice but to sneak out of my room and into his in the dead of night, whenever he had an urge. He would drive me in his black pick-up truck to the deserted soccer fields and bend me over the leather seats. Even when I wasn’t giving him head as he drove, I still had to duck down to prevent anybody from seeing me with him, because that alone would raise questions.
For two years I was his, watching my phone, ready to service him when he called. I knew his lips, his pulsing cock, and the taste of his cum. I would pretend I didn’t notice his phone propped against his bookshelf, recording us. I would swallow his load when the girls wouldn’t. I would leave without a word, drenched in his masculine sweat and with the taste of him on my lips.
(Part 5)
wow this is amazing
what happened after op?
>>1276269
After about two years he went to college and we gradually fell out of touch
holy shit
Can you say promising literary career? I can. Lol
>>1276333
That means the world to me- thank you! (Even though I know its kind of a silly story lol)
>>1276333
Clearly, your experience with literature doesn't extend further than Harry Potter and Hunger Shits if you think this is good.
Nice writing style, but these stories always seem to devolve into total fantasy situations. Suspension of disbelief is important. Things have to be more gradual, and they can't turn into some kind of idealized "str8 bae abuses me just right" then end on good terms. It becomes unreal and the satisfaction is lost. More tension, more awkwardness, and more tears, just like real world faggotry.
I find it fake but nice tho.
>>1276347
Harry Potter and Hunger Games. Oh no, I'd hate to make millions by writing a compelling story. The horror.
Haven't read this yet...haven't taken the time...just wanted to stop by and say that nothing nothing nothing nothing and no story beats the first few chapters of the whole "DOMINATED BY DOUG" story at nifty.org
If you've never read it.....look for it.
Lol it's not like I'm trying to get this published haha just told a quick story.
Wow he's hot
>>1276272
Youre kidding right? You have no way of contacting him? Facebook, instagram, twitter, etc.?
You can't let a guy like that just slip right out of your life. Tell us more about the aftermath.
If the story is fake just tell me the truth and ill ignore this whole thing.
>>1276272
Now I'm sad.
>>1276616
No, it all happened. I can contact him if I really wanted to. We fell out of touch over a long period of time so it wasn't abrupt or anything.
Like I said, this kept up until he left for college. Then we met up whenever he was home for break, but just when that became the new routine I left for college and just over time it became harder to keep hooking up.
We never had many conversations or anything so it's definitely a weird dynamic where I saw him constantly but felt like I didn't really know him that much; he was still the cool senior, I was the freshmen- we lived totally different lives.
>>1276376
Meh... "MARINE CALLED JASON" is much better.
I’m a police agent in the anti-drugs division in my country. Won’t say where, but we investigate and dismantle drug cartels. Sometimes we have to go undercover and for that we’re trained to resist interrogation. This is how my training went down. I got no advance warning, one night I was just taken to some basement. I got tied up by the wrists and suspended from the ceiling. A gag was put in my mouth. I recognized my superior as soon as he removed the bag from my head.
"You know when I got the right idea for you? Just the right idea?”
I tried to make a sound. The gag stifled it.
“Nothing to say? You talked a lot yesterday, didn’t you, mother fuck? Didn’t you?”
I tried to move away. My biceps balled up. It was quite useless. The Sergeant had me, all of me.
"You can't get away, mother fuck. But keep trying. It'll work up a good sweat."
I was already sweating. It was hot down there, near the boiler pipes. I could see them dimly: The single strong overhead light showed only me and the Sergeant. I knew we must be in the station basement, because they had marched me down steps, two flights.
I felt a bead of sweat pass down my chest and onto the plates of my abs. My eyes stared, following the Sergeant's moves. The Sergeant's face came close.
"I like fresh ones, mother fuck, guys like you. Young guys especially. Young guys with big fucking mouths who think they're hot shit.”
The Sergeant was black. He had some good 15kg on me. He was a few years older. They said that he "had experience." They never said what experience.
The star on the Sergeant's shirt flashed as he moved. He smelled of aftershave and leather.
"Fuckin' hot here, ain't it, boy?" he asked. "Ain't it, mother fuck?"
No sound carne from my mouth at that point.
"I asked you a question, mother fuck. You can grunt an answer."
>>1277167
And...?
He made a quick motion with his right hand. A strangled sound came from me at last. It grew louder as the Sergeant's eyes gleamed and as his hand tightened.
"Maybe I'll squeeze some kids out of you, mother fuck," he laughed.
He ended the pressure but kept his hand under my sac. He moved his fingers and toyed with my fat balls.
"You're pretty big, mother fuck. Some guys, their cocks are tiny and their balls are like raisins, and everything hides in their cock hairs. And then their raisins go back in their gut when they're scared. Pussies. Not you. You're easy to get to."
The Sergeant smiled. He dropped his hand. He stepped back.
"OK, mother fuck, OK. Enough fun. Time for mother fuck rookie to get some police business."
The Sergeant took off his shirt. He threw it out of sight. The light gleamed off his torso and his shaven head like polished wood. He moved close enough so that his chest almost touched mine.
"Like I said, I got this idea for you. When I saw you after our workout. You dropped your towel and I could see your cock. They'd cut you, all right, but they'd left a lot. Half-covered your cock head. I bet if I wanted, I could cover that with what they'd left me."
I tried to move back. The bonds stopped me. My torso twisted. I threw my head back.
The Sergeant went to my cock and balls again. He cupped them.
I felt my sac being pulled down, the fingers warm this time, caressing, gentle, and in response my cock twitched, a little harder.
"Oh, you're quick, rookie, you're quick," the Sergeant said, and laughed to himself. "Real nice package. I'll show you mine maybe, from behind if you know what I mean." He laughed again.
The other hand passed lightly over my torso, plucked at my chest hair.
"You got nice tits. Like a woman's. Big. Me too. Like 'em licked? I do. Licked and sucked. Wet and warm, wet and warm, wet .......”
I relaxed for one moment, then stiffened. I saw the hand go to my legs again. I strained at the bonds when the pain-sickness hit my balls and flooded up into my guts.
"You know a guy's balls will go flat almost before they pop? You know that, rookie? Want me to make your sac one bloody tucking mess inside?"
I gave an animal grunt. My body broke out new sweat. I could feel the Sergeant's body next to mine, hot. Then I felt the Sergeant's chest flow against my own, smooth with sweat, and that felt good somehow.
"You're nice boy, fucker, real nice. Fresh meat .......”
The Sergeant's voice faded as he stroked my chest and used his thumbs to circle the nipples. His hands moved lower, toyed with my navel, moved up to feel my lats, and finally moved behind and stroked my ass.
The Sergeant licked his lips, concentrating, his eyes closed.
I stiffened my ass muscles.
"Oh, that's good, boy, that's good, mother fuck. Keep it tight. Fight it. It'll hurt so much, so good when it happens."
He stopped. He stepped back.
"Time for your fun to begin, mother fuck. Want me maybe to cut off that skin they left on your cock?"
I could not scream "No!” but my eyes moved in panic.
"Hey, boy, don't worry. It's all cool here. No scars, see? No proof No marks. Fuck, I could whip your ass with my belt, and the studs would chew into you. Lots of blood. But then I'd have to get rid of you. I want to keep you, understand? So I won't leave any marks."
The Sergeant stepped aside for a moment, then came back.
"Besides, this'll hurt a lot more."
He smiled.
He went away into the darkness behind me. My arms and thighs hurt from the bonds, but that was nothing compared to the fear in my gut. I knew he wanted that fear, and that I wanted to deny it to him. But fear was in my gut all the same.
The Sergeant came back with ... it looked like a plastic squeeze bottle, like you might buy in a grocery store.
"It ain't mustard, boy," the Sergeant said, and chuckled. He squeezed the bottle. A clear jelly came out thick.
The Sergeant reached down and hooked onto my balls again. With one hand he wrapped something (maybe it was a thick rubber band) around them so they were tight in my sac. Then with the other he smeared the clear stuff onto them. It was cold.
I had expected it would hurt. It didn't. The rubber band cut into my skin, and that hurt, but it was bearable.
The Sergeant left again. I heard something being opened, like a box. Then something being snapped together. Then a click or snap, like a switch on a light.
I felt drops of sweat go down into the small of my back.
The Sergeant returned and held up a long copper wire. It shone like gold. I couldn't see the end of it, just that the wire had been stripped of its covering for maybe a foot. It snaked away, into the dark.
"Let's gift-wrap you, mother fuck."
He held my trapped balls with one hand, and circled the sac with the wire. He pulled it tight to give me a new pain.
"Now comes the good part," the Sergeant said. He moved away, then came back for a moment and licked my nipples. His eyes were glittering and happy. He moved away again, and returned holding ... what?
It looked like a long, very thin tube, with a disk at one end.
"Cops like me, rookie, we like hardware stores. I saw this little piece one day and knew just how I could use it."
He stroked my cock, moving its foreskin back and forth as if he wanted to give pleasure. The cock was so big it filled the Sergeant’s hand. Its head was wet and pink. A drop of clear fluid came out its tiny slit.
"Like to see that, mother fuck. It means you're ready."
When the Sergeant said that, I knew by instinct what he was ready for:
The plastic tube began to feed into my cock, slowly. My breath came hard.
The Sergeant came to that place in a man's cock when the smooth sliding stops.
He toyed with the tube, up and down (that made the piss-slit hurt more, and hurt for a few days), and then forced it down. My cry was stifled.
I felt the thing go into my cock up to its base. Some kind of clamp then bit into my cockhead. The Sergeant stood back. “See? It's not coming out No fucking way."
I was breathing hard now. I tried to prepare himself for what was coming. But that was it. I knew I did not know. Would it be a burning feeling?
The Sergeant came back from the shadows. Another wire. "I could just shove this up your cock, mother fuck. Watch you squirm while I start and then take off your gag so you could beg, beg and squeal."
He flicked the sharp end of the thing against my tits. "But I won't. You'd bleed. A lot. And for a few days, because it’ll be a wound inside, just below the waiting prostate."
"Ready?" the Sergeant said.
I stiffened, then relaxed—nothing. My body bucked in its bonds, twisted, writhed, and from behind the gag came what would have been a scream.
The force of the current passed from the balls to prostate.
I relaxed, sunk down.
The Sergeant toyed with my left nipple. Then I writhed again.
I writhed more this time and my chest heaved once, twice—then relaxed.
"Like you imagined?" the Sergeant asked.
No, because nothing can prepare any man for this pain: its sudden intensity, its force, or its range from gentle, almost pleasant sting to the agony of being ripped apart by animal claws. When the force went to the balls, it was as if a weight were crushing down on them.
The Sergeant knew how to work a man. He moved the tube down the long thick cock and shocked me along its length. He made the shocks pulse so I could wait in natural terror for the next burst of pain. He sometimes set up a steady pulse, then suddenly altered it so I would brace myself for a pain that did not come, and then take pain when I did not expect it.
Finally he withdrew the plastic. The delicate glossy flesh inside my sex was reddened but intact. From my tear-shaped slit came more clear thick fluid.
"You must get off on this, rookie, boy. You must really like it. Maybe you'll shoot a wad at me after we play some more."
I felt the wire slide off my balls.
The Sergeant came behind me.
I heard sounds behind....
Then the Sergeant's hand reached forward to cup my cock again, play with it, and especially draw my thick foreskin forward. I felt the Sergeant's presence hot behind me, and then flesh against mine. At my ass I felt the thick rod, pressed up tight against my ass-muscles. That too felt good somehow, but it made me fearful.
"Not yet, mother fuck, not yet ... soon," the Sergeant whispered. He used the other hand to toy with my nipple. The stroking increased. My cock became stiffer, began to curve up.
I felt the gag release. Instead of speaking, I screamed.
My foreskin was on fire.
The Sergeant had brought forward silver-shining clips, with eager little teeth, and they bit at the sensitive skin.
Three of them finally got clamped onto my sex. My eyes blurred from pain, so I did not see the Sergeant attach all three to a single wire.
I never saw the other wire. I felt instead the Sergeant’s finger toying with me behind, whispering that I had to "open up, open up, open the little sweet bud," and then with the finger going in and up and then something else, like a stiff wire but not a sharp one....
My screams came again, with the pain in my gut and tearing through my gut. The three things clipped to my cock were like diamonds of pain-fire, but the force in my gut was worse. Whenever the pain eased, when I knew I had to wait for it again, I begged for mercy.
The sound “OK. Mercy" came finally, when I longed for any end, even death. The Sergeant's big arms encircled me, supporting my weakness.
I felt the tip of the Sergeant's cock. I felt it press into my tiny hole, not far, not so much as to cause any pain. Then the thrust, the ripping open, the new scream.
The Sergeant held me and rocked with me as I spasmed inside.
He withdrew. I sank down in my bonds.
The Sergeant grabbed my gleaming-wet hair, drew my head back, toyed again with my nipples. He ripped the clamps away. Blood spattered the floor.
He withdrew to the shadows,
He put on some of his clothes.
The Sergeant went upstairs slowly. He carried his shirt with him and turned around before closing the door.
“You sure as hell earned your badge tonight”
This doesn't qualify as "well told" but I couldn't fin any other thread to post it.
>graduation trip
>sharing the hotel room with this guy
>whole group goes out drinking and clubbing
>we get back to the hotel
>he is really happy because that night in the club he made out with a girl and got her number
>never seen him so happy and upbeat
>it's so sweet
>in the room he puts on music, takes of his shirt and starts dancing
>I film it but he's too drunk to care
>omg I love this guy
>I'm still in the closet
>he's everything to me
>no he is not gay. He met with the club girl again the next day and on the last night of the trip they fucked
>lucky bitch probably had the best sex ever
>wish I was her
>will forever keep this footage with me to remember him
>he's off to college now, halfway across the country
>life is suffering
Someone kill me pls.
I wish this had happened to me ;_;
my high school years were just me being closeted and being being surrounded by gorgeous guys with no sex. there was one gay guy that I knew of, but he was gross and annoying. a bunch of guys ended up coming out right after high school. hehe
the closest contact that I had was when one hot straight friend used to joke wrestle me all the time because he knew I liked it. when we were hanging out one time, he laid the back of his head on my crotch, looked up at me and just stayed there smiling. sighhh. I'm still super attracted to hs boys
>>1277212
>"dancing"
nope
>>1276337
You're not bad, but your prose gives the definite impression of someone trying a little bit too hard. It was hot though, I came.
>>1277849
???????
