NOTICE : All the Standard warnings about being of age, being aware of your community standards apply to the following story! Please read no further if you are underage 18/21--or live in a conservative area--or are offended by explicit sexual stories. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone is strictly coincidental, all rights are protected and the story cannot be reproduced without permission.
Marine ROTC Cadet Kevin Tyler
Part 3
Later that night, after I pouring more alcohol down his throat and using amyl nitrate to compliment it, I hauled him into my bedroom. There I gagged him and tied his legs over his head to the place where his hands were secured in cuffs at the top of my bed. I put a pillow under his butt to support his back and raise his ass, then pulled out another thin bristle dildo vibrator I keep for special occasions. This one also has bumps and ridges that spin in small sockets on the vibrator itself, working independently. His eyes remain glazed through his drunken haze, and yet his ass lips puckered as if desperate for some attention when I put the tip of my finger on them. I later learned that he had never had anything in his ass except a doctor’s finger and an enema he’d received from his mother when he was twelve and constipated. His hard little cock had dry cum from the enema, and though his mother said nothing, he was so embarrassed that he let nothing close to his overly sensitive asshole again.
I spent ten minutes, tickling his hairy ass pucker, making the lips open unconsciously to invite my irritating finger that loosened him up again for the vibrator. First, I took a wonderful little suppository that I had gotten from a buddy who’d bought some when he visited Mexico on his junior year abroad trip last year. He’d seen one slipped into a teenage girl’s ass and pussy, and she’d gone almost mad, letting the on-stage male who was torturing her for the audience, use various dildoes to wring eight straight orgasms from her sticky wet cunt and throbbing clit. He said the suppository was made with a beetle from the Mexican desert that when dried and crushed became an irritant that no one could resist. Using a thin medical rubber glove, I took just a small portion of the suppository and after greasing Kevin’s hairy ass pucker with lube and making sure his anal canal was warm and wet, I slipped the wicked piece of the suppository deep up his anal trench. When his toes suddenly clenched, and his cock burped a huge slug of clear pre-sap, I knew the horrendous itch was driving my now gagged college Marine punk into oblivion. He howled helpless into his gag, squirming his ass as best he could, as if the motion would dislodge the wicked itch that was driving him wild.
I slipped the dildo in a fixed retainer anchored on a platform that goes across my bed and is secured to the frame. Only this retainer socket is anchored by flexible springs that allow it to move in any direction. Then I slowly slid its four-inch length, with ridges and bumps all covered with short, pliant bristles of horse hair projecting from it, down into Kevin’s completely exposed and feverishly twitching hairy asshole. As the knobby end approached his hairy pucker, his toes clenched tightly and then stretched, as if as I approached, he could sense what he was going feel before it happened. I used a lubricate to baste the dildo and makes its entrance easier for my ROTC captive. Kevin's eyes first widened in stunned surprise as he looked up between his legs to see the hairy dildo approaching his vulnerable asshole. Then they rolled in ecstasy, as I gently screwed the dildoe into his spasming hole, making sure not to hurt him. The boar’s hairs itched his tender lining again, by now inflamed by the melted suppository, and finally reached his anal nut, scratching the thing as he rolled his hips to try and soothe the incredible itch.
When he was stuffed full, his eyes screwed shut, and his breaths came in shallow gulps. He tried to keep his hips perfectly still so that the horsehairs would not irritate the lining of his ass, nor the stiff bristles on the knob scrub his prostrate. But the suppository worked its wicked magic. Within seconds, his ass involuntarily jerked, and then once in motion, though restrained, his hips moved back and forth to get relief from the incessant itching and brushing of his prostrate. The flexible retainer for the dildo allowed it to move with Kevin’s twitching legs, preventing him from getting any relief from the relentless scratching deep up his fundament. I didn’t help matters any, because I then switched on the vibrator to its medium setting and that made both the bumps and knobs spin, and the dildo buzz deep inside him. While his eyes opened wide in exquisite agony, and he squealed loudly behind his gag, I hummed absently as I moved down to his clenching toes.
He fucked the dildo like a Pavlovian dog. Goose pimples broke out over his arms and legs, and he plunged even more to seek relief from his delicious, exquisite torture. Like a praying mantis, I began to suck on his sweet toes and big, size eleven feet, and gently scratched my fingernails across his meaty insteps. The unusually long toes for such a small guy were delicious to suck, and they bucked and twisted both from the sensations coursing within him as well as from my tongue and lips. The sensation in is ass caused his toes to curl involuntarily, and my tickling and sucking only made them more frantic. I tickled, scratched and sucked the toes on each foot. He was ready for one last gigantic ejaculation.
I grasped his fully stiff poker, now bathed in new streams of sticky clear pre-cum. I held it up and then aimed his thick curved shaft toward his face, and using my one free hand, allowed my fingertips to just barely caress the pulsing, dripping, red knob. Every time the fat knob would bloat as if it was about ready to spit cum, my fingers would retreat, leaving Kevin’s big fuck stick untended and aching for a good wanking. For thirty minutes, I led him up to the edge, and then left him pulsing futilely as the rest of his body was squirming from various sensations. His previous two ejaculations prevented him from cumming without adequate manual stimulation. It took a while, but good old Kevin blasted another heavy load over his own face. He whined helplessly behind his gag, and his toes curled tight when the bolts of gism blasted from the wide piss lips, as my fist worked just under his flange, twisting and my thumb scrubbing, made his fat fuck tip shoot and shoot. In the meantime, his hips continued to plunge his ass against the twirling and whirling magic dildo lodged so deep in his guts, it’s bumps and bristles giving him the kind of thorough massage that made his tits go rock hard when he shot his scum. Even after he'd blown his wad, I used my fingers to dance delicately around the sensitive, achey knob, scratching my nails across the bloated glans
Kevin spent the night secured to my king-size bed on one side, hands over his head, and legs attached apart to a spreader bar at the foot of the bed. I woke him twice during the night. The first time, I gagged him again while I sucked his tit buds with my nursing lips and plucked them with my tweaking digits, and I used my spit covered palm to jerk another weak load from his balls. What a good little man, he ground his ass in the bed as my fist worked relentlessly, and then he arched from chest to hips when I led him over the edge again, twisting my callused fist around his prong, and draining more scum from his healthy nuts. I’m an expert at roiling my fist over the scar of a curved cock and working the bloated knob. I was propped up on one elbow, leaning over and working the sexy little cadet jock punk. I love it when these trussed bastards go rigid, and burp their sticky gism. Kevin stretched and made his muscles go taut as I rotated the palm once again over his fat knob after he'd cum and could not escape my feathery grip.
The second load was a surprise for him, though. I whispered into his ear how boys like him were made to be cock milked, and that maybe he would not be allowed to touch his meat again without permission. In his stupor still dizzy from the alcohol and with the help of poppers, somehow he took my words for gospel, and for whatever reason my rule oriented Marine was ready to submit to the chain of command. Whether or not he was a Marine made no difference, tough little shits like him needed prick supervision because their hard dicks were sometimes more in control of their actions than their brains. If I was in the Marines, I would have cock cages on all of those hard dicked peanut brains. Then I’d make sure that they were taken into special labs routinely, placed on their knees with their heads down and asses up, gagged and arms bound in the middle of their backs, then milked like cows from behind on a schedule. The rest of the time, they would need to stay hard and horny, kept desperate and angry to make good soldiers. I would take care of their stiff dicks, and do those boys have big stiff dicks.
But since the only potential Marine I actually knew was Kevin, I had a plan for him to fill all the fantasies that ran through my head about beefy little Jarhead punks. I had a perfect mesh cock cage for my hard-dicked, spunk-filled white trash Marine. Attached was a little chain and socket that could be used to insert a small, remote-controlled vibrator up his asshole on special occasions. I told him that once a week, he'd be tied, tickled, pinched, rubbed, brushed, vibrated, scratched, and shared, until all the pent up gism was drained from his balls. Then he'd be allowed to go back to keeping his perfect body unsullied and his sperm bank unused, ever ready for military and other kinds of service. Then I closed a bristle-gloved hand over his rod, and started a slow and steady frig, using my thumb under his circumcision scar in a steady motion. I took off his gag at the end, so he could plead and beg, but the poppers kept him disoriented. "Aaaaahhhhhh godddddd….jesus…no, please, not my prick knob again, OH FUCK…pleeeeeeezzzzzeeee….stop, don't torture me….I'll do what you say, I'll do it…any-thing…OH CHRSIT….fucking anything…..nnnnooooooooo…..aaaaaaaagggghhhhhh!"
I just told him to start telling stories about people who had sucked and worshipped his body...when I found one I liked, I'd let him cum. Boy was that a great thirty minutes, and I recorded every story. The time he'd been sucked dry twice in a row at a gas station glory hole by a hard-nosed little mechanic while he was in his ROTC uniform earned him his reward. He said he couldn't pry his dick from the guy’s mouth, and he just held onto the partition and ground his hips while the fucker siphoned the scum from his horny, pulsing rod (and here I thought he was a virgin to male sex!). Either he had a great imagination, or that boy had been popular, and the story about the mechanic and his grunts and groans as he burbled it added to the effect.
Now he was changing his tune. His big boy pecker was rigid again, aching to squirt, and tingling, itching and throbbing in my unrelenting frigging fist. Fuck I love to work these hard dicked boys, helpless slaves to their peckers, and addicted the sweet sensation of their itchy male clits. "Aaaaaahhhhhh fuuuuccccckkkkk, oooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhh, jaaaaack my meeaaatt, oooooowwwwwww yeeeeaaaaaaaahhhh....my diiiccccccccckkk...!" As the cum drooled out, I kept those bristles working under his knob, earning squeals and screams that were blunted by the sound-proofing in my bedroom. When he passed out from the overwhelming sensation, I untied him and dressed him. I loaded him my car and drove him back to his apartment building. Going up the parking garage elevator, I got him to his apartment, and stripped him down . I put him under his sheets, and left him in a deep sleep, his rubbery curved cock still wet from the dregs of his long evening and early morning.
The next day and the next, I didn’t hear from Kevin. By that Wednesday, when we played our next IM basketball game, he acted like he always did…not betraying anything out of the ordinary. In fact, afterwards his arm was around Audrey like always. I’m sure he wondered why his cock was sore the next day, but the roofie apparently had done its job, and he was oblivious or at least acted oblivious to what had happened. He sure wasn’t going to admit that he’d been a captive, trussed sex slave, even if in the dim recollections of the night, something suggested that he’d cum on more than one occasion. During the summer after the Spring Semester, I anonymously sent Kevin some 8 x 10” prints of him trussed up, spurting cum, and dick hard. I set up a meet with him at a roadside john, outside of town, late one night.
He asked me how I could have done this…yeah, he thought something was wrong the next morning after we'd been out drinking. His prick had been sore for three days. But He couldn't remember anything. Now the pics told the story, and at first, he was pissed and loud. But as I showed him new pics he had not seen, and warned that these would go to the Marines, to his family and even Audrey, he quieted down and just became sullen. I asked if he was going to cooperate? At first, he wondered out loud what would happen if some of his buddies caught me alone one night. But I reminded him that if anything happened to me, that I had set up a mechanism to ensure that the pics would be mailed. Plus, I had scanned the pics, and they would also be sent all over the internet with his name, and contact information. He looked like he could kill me, but eventually he asked what he had to do? I smiled, and told him that as long he played ball, so to speak, he would only have to perform once per week. But if he acted up, or got uncooperative, he'd regret how devious my imagination could be.
Before the night was through, I had him tied to the stanchions in the dirty roadside bathroom, legs spread and arms over the top. I gagged him for good measure. The threat of those pics showing up at the campus Marine headquarters had chastened my prick-hard little cadet. His rigid prong jutted through a large glory hole in the partition, curving wickedly up to be sucked more than once that night by strangers, while I gently finger fucked him from behind in his stall using a little finger vibrator covered with the horsehair bristles. I also rolled his taut titties, pinching their diamond hardness, and scraping my jagged fingernails across the sensitive tips. By the end of the summer, I was able to put Kevin through some maneuvers before he left for officer’s training. Having him tied naked on my dining room table, gagged and bound, on his hands and knees, with his cock attached to a home-made vacuum milker was a remarkable sight. The milker was a vacuum hose altered with a special sheath that I could slide up and down. The sheath was lined with a lubed terry cloth rag to massage and torque the subject’s helpless, drooling cock. Kevin did not disappoint, spurting out cum, but still able to give after five tries. By the time he left for his Marine career, I had transformed him into a prick hard, horny pony-boy who could not resist a frigging hand, rolled tits, or a good finger bang.
The first time he came back home on leave, I made sure he brought a suitable buddy, another young, innocent Jarhead that would succumb to a night of my special concoctions and booze. It worked like a charm, and we added the furry blond beef, 6"2" and hung like a bull with a super sensitive cock knob to our games. He was even more compliant once I got something up his bung hole, and buzzed him into oblivion. Big boys, big dicks, little brains and sperm to spare. Thank goodness for college military training programs.
END