Scallywag

As my doorbell rang early one evening, I had no idea that I was about to embark on a most usual journey with an equally unusual man.

“Hi, I am Scallywag; I rent a flatlet down the road. I’ve heard you are an artist, and I like art,” he informed me.

“I am,” I answered, before qualifying, “But this is not a gallery.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he responded like a scolded dog. 

As I looked at the deshelled man before me, my heart softened. Scallywag had a craggy but fascinating face, like someone who had seen hard times, and I estimated that he must be in his sixties. I could tell that he must have been a good-looking younger man. His gnarled hand holding the duffel bag hanging over his shoulder underlined that he was a manual labourer of some sort. The shaggy clothing he wore looked like hand-me-downs from someone who had been bulkier. Scallywag was at least six-foot-tall but lithe. He seemed to have a mop of curly hair tied in a bushy ponytail, protruding from the back of the cap he had on his head. His teeth, which I was sure were dentures, seemed to be in good condition.

“Listen, if you want to take a look around, that won’t be a problem,” I reassuringly informed him.     

“Are you sure?” he respectfully inquired.

“Yeah,” I assuredly informed him.

As he entered, his gait was not fluid, and it was as if he had an injury of sorts.

As he followed me, I asked, “Surely your real name isn’t Scallywag.”

“No, it’s Calvin, but my nickname has been around forever,” he countered with a resigned smile.

“Well, Calvin, most of the art in the house is my own, and that is the painting I am working on,” I gestured toward the easel in my large living space.

“I like your work, and I like paintings of people,” he responded as he affirmatively shook his head.

“Well, that’s what I paint,” I informed him.

“Do you mind if I have a drink?” Calvin asked.

Slightly taken aback by his cheekiness, I nonetheless asked, “What can I get you?”

“Oh, just a glass,” he answered as he extracted a liquescent foil object from his knapsack.

“I can only afford box wine, but always discard outer box because it is simply easier to carry it like this,” he informed me, before adding, “I drink cheap sweet red wine.”  

After I handed over the glass, he sat down, and after cradling the container like a bagpipe under his arm, allowed the ruby liquid to fill his glass.

“I would offer you a glass, but I am sure you don’t drink this shit,” he informed me with a smile.

“No worries,” I replied before walking toward my glass of dry white wine and lifting it in cheers a gesture.

“So… What do you do, Calvin,” I asked before affirming, “You don’t mind if I call you, Calvin?”

“Nah,” Calvin replied, before continuing, “Woodwork... I work at a local factory. As you can see from my fucked hands, I can only do rudimentary stuff.”

“Why?” I innocently inquired.

With a reflective look on his face and after a pause, Calvin then embarked on his tale of horror.

Several years before, the ‘Good old boys’ from the region decided to teach him a lesson when he fucked one of their wives. This consisted of tying him to the back of one of their trucks before he got dragged on gravel for a mile or two. Not only were his hands fucked up, but the heels of his feet also got severely damaged. I now understood his awkward gait. In addition, his knees, legs, and elbows had also got severely scarred. Calvin had never been able to identify the culprits because they had placed a hood over his head.

“Jesus… Are you serious? “I queried in disbelief.

After stripping down to his underpants, I got the full expose of the damage, which was hauntingly horrific.

“I spent two months in hospital after that,” Calvin solemnly informed me.

After we sat silently for a few minutes, Calvin began to giggle. When I looked at him puzzled, he then concluded his tale.  

“The arsehole’s wife divorced him soon after, after telling the entire world what a small cock he had, and how useless he was in bed. After that, it also became general knowledge how good I was, and what a big cock I have,” Calvin chuckled, before concluding, “Although many of the married women beleaguered me after that. I had learned my lesson and never shit on my doorstep, anymore.” After a pause he concluded, “Don’t mess around with local married women, is the lesson I can pass on to you.”

“I am gay, Calvin, so there is no chance of that happening,” I informed him.

After a quiet few moments, he responded, “I am cool with that, but we are from a different culture. When I was in military service, because of my shlong, many men came onto me, but that is not my scene.”

I found the use of the word ‘culture’ rather interesting.

Scallywag left shortly after.

What I did not realize then, however, was that I would see him often, after that, despite our ‘cultural’ differences. The future visits became somewhat of a problem because he would arrive much later in the evening and rather pissed by then. Being the sad creature that Calvin was I did not have the heart, to send him on his way. I also have to admit that I found him unbelievably sexy, despite realizing that we were from different ‘cultures.’ The bulge I occasionally observed in his saggy pants always made me horny.

A few months later, he arrived, totally pissed, and I had to help him to a seat in the lounge. Calvin’s local dialect had always been somewhat of a problem for me, and I constantly had to appeal to him to repeat what he had asked or said. This night, because of the slurring, he was practically incomprehensible.

I quickly surmised that there was no way he could walk home, pondering how he had been able to get to my home in the first place.

“Listen, buddy, why don’t you lie on my sofa, and I will get a blanket for you?” I suggested.

“I don’t wanna be any trouble,” he slurred.

“No trouble,” I assured him, as I mentally decided that these visits had to get terminated.

“Do you need a bucket in case you puke?” I inquired.

“Nah, I never puke… But I need to piss,” Calvin garbled.

As I placed my arm around his torso with his arm around my neck, we stumbled toward the toilet.

Once there I offered to assist him in unzipping. “Nooo,” he defiantly uttered, as if I was about to rape him.

For the next minute, his body swayed as he fumbled to open his fly. I continued to support his body as best I could, becoming annoyed.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I’ve just pissed myself,” he ashamedly admitted.

“You fool, I offered to help you, now look what you’ve done,” I reprimanded him. 

“Sorry,” he skulking replied.

“Now you do just what I tell you to do, do you understand?” I admonished him.

“Yes,” he meekly responded.

The scenario playing out had me bristling with excitement. The piss inconvenience was no concern in comparison to benefits I hoped would result. I wanted to see his cock with every fibre of my being, and I was determined to do so.

“Place your hands on my shoulders,” I commanded before he timidly did so. After unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers and underpants downward, I knelt to shove them to his ankles. I now got my first glance at his dick, which exceeded all my expectations. It was magnificent!

Next, I made him sit on the toilet seat before removing his piss sodden trainers, socks, pants, and underpants. Tugging his t-shirt upward, I also pulled it off his body.

“I may as well wash all your clothing while the washer/dryer is in operation,” I stated.  

Docilely, Calvin complied.

“Now, don’t move and finish pissing. I am going to get a warm face cloth to clean you up,” I commanded.

Once I returned, I instructed him to stand and support his body by placing his hands on either side of him against the narrow walls of the toilet. As I used the face cloth to clean him, I got another look at the infamous dick that had caused all his problems. The uncut wonder hung like an elephant trunk off the front of him, nestled in the most spectacular knapsack of bull balls I had ever seen. My lips were trilling like a cat’s, unable to get to a bird beyond a window, as the cloth fondled his package.

After cleaning him, I got a second thrill as I used the towel to dry him. Calvin made no objections, and his cock began morphing into a semi-erect state as I commenced hyperventilating. Tempted as I was, I decided that discretion was the better part of valour. Despite his horrendous ordeal, Calvin had a reputation of being an unpredictable thug.

After we finally got him back to the sofa, I reluctantly placed a blanket over him. I then rinsed his trainers before placing them in the warming drawer of my oven and putting his clothes in the washer/dryer.

As I lay on my bed afterward, a most incredible feeling of lust overcame me. As I arose and walked toward the lounge, it was as if an inexorable force had taken possession of me. The possible consequences of my actions now eluded me, and I had to suck his dick, whatever the penalties.

Calvin was snoring loudly in his inebriated state. As I lifted the blanket, he was on his side with the phallus of wonder sprawled over his left thigh. As my head closed in, my tongue began lapping at the overhang of his uncut knob. To my delight, his cock instantly responded and commenced its dramatic elongation.

‘Oh, god, I have to suck this dick,’ I reasoned as I began salivating profusely. After my lips traversed the trunk, my hand pulled back the snout completely. The tang awaiting my lips was heavenly as my tongue caressed his glans. Shortly, despite my fear, my mouth got into full cry.

As I feasted on his dick, his snoring diminished and soon got overtaken my groans of pleasure. When Calvin’s body began to shudder, I got rewarded by the most incredible waterfall of jizz I had ever imbibed.

After I pulled the blanket back over his body in relief, I walked toward my room, savouring the residue of cum in my mouth. My unenthusiastic hospitality had finally got rewarded.

Lying in my bed, I felt somewhat ashamed, despite my exhilaration. I was not foolish enough to believe that this would get perpetuated. Nevertheless, my future recollections of this event overjoyed me, and I knew that I would replay this scenario repeatedly in my mind.

Strangely, I did not see Calvin over the following two weeks. Convinced that Calvin had been asleep, I could only imagine that the pissing episode had embarrassed him.

When he finally pitched up, it was late as always. On this occasion, however, he appeared to be sober.

“Are you still alive?” I joked as he stood at my door.

“Yeah, I am sorry about…” he proffered before I interrupted him

“Calvin, relax. It was no big deal,” I countered.

After inviting him in, I handed him a glass as usual.

As we sat in the lounge, he eventually said, “You know, I must tell you something strange.”

“What?” I inquired.

“Well, after my last visit, I have had the most unusual recurring recollection,” Calvin proffered.

“Oh, what is that?” I matter-of-factly replied.

Calvin now got a self-conscious look on his face. “Well, I don’t quite know how to tell you,” he replied.

“Spit it out, buddy,” I boldly responded.

“Well… I hope you’re not offended but, I have this recurring hallucination that you sucked me off,” Calvin stammered.  

I instantly let out a forced laugh. “Well, we know that’s not possible because we have different cultures.”

After a minute of silence, Calvin continued, “Do you want to hear the worst part of this?”

“Pfft, okay,” I countered nonchalantly.

With a serious look on his face, he retorted, “Well, strangely… I loved it.” 

Having a WTF moment, I nervously counteracted, “Well, I don’t know what to say, buddy.”

After another long pause, Calvin calmly responded, “Did you suck me off?”

As I sat like a deer caught in the headlight, I then remorsefully admittedly to my misdemeanour.

“Well, Dara, I’m not here to beat you up, I simply want more,” he responded with a smile. “I have no idea why because men have never attracted me. You, however, have always treated me like a person and not a freak. I want to share your bed if you will let an ugly oaf like me.”

“You are not an oaf and one of the sexiest men I have ever met. I would be happy to be your bitch,” I replied, upping the ante.

“Are you sure?” he answered.

“Yes,” I comprehensively replied.

“Buddy… I am a sex maniac. Are you sure you are up for this?”

“Oh, fuck, yes, daddy. Abuse me as you like,” I growled.

“Mmmm, you have no idea what you have just unleashed. Get to the bedroom bitch and prepare for the Kraken,” he roared.

The ‘Scallywag’, was now in control, and his former self-effacing demeanour, would eternally get relegated to the past.

“You took advantage of me, you dirty queer, and now you are going to pay,” he barked.

I was mesmerized by how powerful his damaged hands were as I got rigorously manipulated and ‘abused.’ Soon, my throat got put through its paces as my mouth got severely pummelled.

As I gasped and whimpered, Scallywag became vocally and physically animalistic, bruising my body and throat. It was heavenly!

“I don’t do well with women because they always complain I’m too rough,” he jabbered before concluding, “But now I have my very own cocksucker to mistreat without any female whining.”

As my face got slapped and my head maltreated, Scallywag went ballistic. My coughing and choking were immaterial to him and only ignited more punishment as he solidly gripped hold of chunks of my hair.

Pleading, I finally extricated my head in a plea for compassion. There was a wild look in his eyes as he surveyed my slimy face. As his hands once more moved forward to claim their quarry, I quickly fell back on the bed and lifted my legs to give my head a respite. Looking down at my rosebud, I could see a dilemma in his eyes.

“My head needs a break… Please fuck my arse,” I implored.

With a perplexed look on his face, he mumbled, “No woman has ever let me fuck her backside.”

“Well, fuck mine,” I implored.

After a colossal sniff, he placed his dick at my portal.

If I had hoped for a gentle entry, I was sadly mistaken. I yelled as Calvin’s abnormal shlong slammed into me. Once in, his rough paws clamped onto my shoulders to anchor my body for his onslaught. My body writhed on the bed like a dingy in rough seas as he speared me mercilessly. When he finally unloaded, every part of my body blissfully ached.

My hectic future with Calvin was incredible, and there was no stone left unturned as our ‘cultural’ differences got obliterated. Calvin even began kissing me after a while, albeit without his false teeth in his mouth. His floppy lips were odd, to begin with, but being gummed turned out to be breathtaking, especially once he took to rimming me. 

I was happy to be Scallywag’s obedient sex slave.