"Looks like rain, Danny, another Louisiana storm, just like it was, up at the Side-Car." Michael rolled up the windows.
"Yes, I can see lightning. It's way far in the back of us. just a flash every once in a while. I guess it's heading our way."
"I love it," Michael said. His voice cracked with laughter and excitement.
"There's nothing better than a gulf storm to turn you on."
"Shit! Who needs a storm? You want to get turned on, look at this," I answered, grabbing my crotch.
After spending three days in LaFayette at the Hilton Towers, the adventure of the road beckoned once more. Variety was the spice of our lives, and my pulse quickened at the thought of unknown pleasures waiting for us on the rural highways, lurking just around the corner.
We left the Hilton with only a slight tinge of regret. After a sustaining lunch at Prejeans, a cajun restaurant, we headed west on I-10 for just a few miles, then north on 13 on our way to Alexandria.
"About a hundred miles," Michael said, "We have plenty of time. You know, Danny," his eyes sparkling with lascivious thoughts, "Lots of military there. Hard, horny, soldier cock just waiting for you and me."
I could feel that familiar stirring in my loins as the rising blood tickled my swelling tool. "Yes, I'm ready and I don't need any of your pep pills, or storms either."
Michael's answer was a deep throated chuckle. There was a far away look in his eye. He was living an experience in his mind. Imagination was at work.
There were no cars on 13. The narrow road rolled through plain fields.
This was swampland, green undergrowth and giant trees with spanish moss hanging from their branches like a shawl of antique lace. The clouds were thick and heavy, lying like huge black pillows on the surface of the world, and the lightning flashed at narrowing intervals. The storm was still too far behind us to hear thunder, but as it approached, Michael became more and more animated in a cheerful way that contradicted the dreary day.
"Golly, I do love it. It's like a German opera, noisy and exciting."
The afternoon was not cold, and the light clothing we wore was enough to protect us from the dampness. We were comfortable. It seemed strange that there was no traffic. We were alone and had seen no one since we had left Lafayette.
Michael started to talk in a low voice, as though he were musing to himself. "These great summer storms used to scare me. When I was about fifteen, there was a dinger. It was so big they gave it a name and called it a hurricane.
"My Dad and I were living on a farm, all by ourselves. We were there for the harvest. The lightning came real close and split a giant tree that stood in front of the old house. Right in two. And I crawled into bed with my Daddy and got under the covers. It was nighttime. The power had gone out so that it was dark except when lightning flashed, which seemed like all the time. Daddy held me tight. He was a strong man, a farmer, you know. And when he put his arms around me he pulled me to him. I could feel his warm skin, all silky and hairy, and full of hard muscle. It made me feel safe and secure. And then his cock pressed against me. It was huge. it was so big and so hard, just like a horse-cock. I didn't know what happened to it, to make it so big. When I grabbed it, my fingers could barely go around it. We laughed." Michael paused. He looked at me.
There was a slight embarrassed grin on his face.
I knew that he was telling me something he had never told anyone else. he was sharing a secret part of his life with me, just as he had shared every other part of himself.
"Well," he continued, "I licked that cock like it was a candy sucker. We didn't get much sleep that night, Daddy and me. When that storm got to its climax, lightning everywhere and thunder roaring around us like it came from hell, Daddy was fucking me. Someway he got that big, hard cock into me and he fucked and fucked right through the top of the storm. That's when it all started with us," he sighed, exhaling a great gust of breath,
"Yes, that was the beginning. No wonder I love these storms so much," he added wistfully.
There was nothing I could say in response to his confession. I had the feeling he didn't want me to say anything. I'm not even certain he realized that his thoughts were sounded in words. That I had heard anything. We drove in silence for a while as he accelerated the car.
Just as a few drops of rain struck the windshield, Michael braked the car.
It came to a sudden stop; the tires protesting with a screeching skid. I looked up. There were men standing across the road. Each held a rifle pointed at us. I counted seven. They were older, maybe even older than Michael; somewhere between forty and fifty. Rough looking, unshaven, dirty.
"What the hell," Michael said as he brought the car to a full stop just a few feet in front of them. He rolled down the window. They surrounded the car.
"What do you want," he asked.
The man who appeared to be the leader, approached the drivers sided of the vehicle. He looked in, then turned to the others. A grin spread across his face revealing dirty uneven teeth. I could smell his breath. "Shit!"
he said, and he spit a great gob of phlegm onto the pavement. There was sarcasm in his voice, a sneer that demanded compliance. "Git the fuck out of the car, That's what we want. Git out."
Other men came out of the bushes that grew along the road. I later learned that here were thirteen in all. They were dressed in black. Their T-shirts were of thin cotton that barely reached across broad shoulders, and fit their bodies like a second skin, defining rippling muscles and flat stomachs and pointed nipples.
They were drenched by the rain which was now coming down from the dark sky in torrents, but though it plastered their long hair to their scalps, they seemed unaware of it. Their black jeans, with a low rise, had a tight fit encasing muscular legs, and accented their baskets. There feet were bare, covered with mud. Each T-shirt had a logo painted in white. It said,
'Slave of Satan'.
Everything was happening so fast that I don't know whether I noticed all of this at the time or thought about it later. I remember only how frightened I was. As they surrounded the car, they pulled open the doors and grabbed both Michael and I.
"I have money," Michael yelled. "Cash. I'll give you cash."
"Shit! We don't want money." And the men nodded their heads in agreement.
"Yeah! Yeah!" they echoed, "We don't want money." Their smiles were wicked and grim. The grip on my arms, as they pulled me out of the car, was like a band of steel.
Looking across the top of the car to Michael for reassurance, I could barely see him for the rain was pelting and heavy. The storm was overhead, now. The continuous lightning, followed by immediate rolls of crashing thunder. I watched with dismay as they placed a blindfold over Michael's eyes, and then I could see no more, as they placed one over mine as well.
All confidence and presence disappeared, and panic took its place. I had never before felt so helpless.
They tugged at my arms and led me across the road. I was pulled into wet branches and brush. My shoes disappeared in the sinking mud and my feet, bare now, stumbled over rocks and debris from the storm. It seemed as though I was dragged a long way, but the dimension of time and distance was exaggerated by the circumstances.
At last I felt I was on firm ground, the hazard of the soggy swamp lost behind us. It was a small road, or lane. Then, into a shelter of some sort where the rain became only a loud pounding on a solid roof. The thunder was muffled, and I could hear our assailants whooping and laughing with glee.
"Jesus H. Christ!"
"I get the boy first."
"I got him, he's mine."
"Yeah! You and who else?"
I was thankful to be out of the pounding rain, but this was an adventure we had not counted on. I was scared! The blindfold was tight around my eyes and the consequent feeling of helplessness was devastating.
Someone's hand grabbed the collar of my shirt. There was a sudden yank and I could hear the tear of cloth. I felt the fragments of my torn shirt pull away.
"Shit! Look at those cute little nips," someone said as they pinched my nipples, their fingernails digging into the tender skin.
A sudden wave of erotic excitement flashed through me as they undid my belt and released the zipper of my fly. My pants fell to the floor. I was naked. Blind-folded and naked; vulnerable to the demands of satan's slaves.
The thrill of the unknown still did not overcome the fear I had, but I felt the surge of lust that had, so lately become a part of me. I loved the feeling of the pounding blood, pounding like the rain on the roof outside, as it surged into my nipples and loins, causing my cock to expand, my erection to reach out, claiming my hunger for sex, but I was scared shitless too.
"Christ he's a kid. Just a hot little queer waitin' for my cock up his ass."
"I get to fuck him first."
"Shit man! You know it's my turn."
I could feel their hands on my buttocks, probing into the crack. Someone held my cock, his fingers wrapped around the swollen shaft.
"He ain't even cut. Jesus! how lucky can we get?" And a hot juicy mouth kissed the tip of my cock, and the lovely sensation of an agile tongue and tight lips sucking on it, sent pleasure jolts surging down my spine as shocking as the lightning outside.
"Git off that boys dick, Willis, you ain't got no call to take him like that...... Sides you still got yore clothes on."
"Shit man! You want him, you git nekkid like the rest of us."
The realization that these men were horny, and naked too, was sending shock waves of pleasure down my spine.
"Christ almighty! What's the matter with you mother-fuckers? We'll do it like we always do. Put yore fuckin' key in the box and we'll draw 'em out and see who gits to fuck him first."
They pulled away from me. I was alone. With curses and shouts they accepted the position in which the lottery placed them. This was something Michael and I never expected. I was scared, that's for sure, but I was kind of entranced too. The fact that they were going to rape me, while making me really nervous about pain and everything, got me real excited too. That familiar wave of lust was growing more insistent. I wanted them to use me, to satisfied their lust on me. Yet somehow I knew I had to fight them, to protest, for fear was the dominate emotion. I wondered what happened to Michael. Dear sweet Michael, who I loved so much.
When they came back from their lottery, surrounding me with orders to "bend down and grab my ankles" I refused. I sat down upon the floor. My knees up, head buried and arms wrapped around my legs. If they were going to fuck me, they would have to work at it.
"Git the bastard up. Shit! That little faggot better git up. I'm going to loosen his asshole for the rest of you fuckers."
I held my arms tight around my knees. I figured they couldn't fuck me if it sat on my asshole.
"Shit! I'll make him move." He cleared his throat and spit. The warm glob of phlegm landed on my shoulder. I felt it slide down my back. Then another and another.
"Hey you little bastard, how do you like this?" and warm silky piss streamed into my hair, rolled down my face and chest to my hard-on. I'd never been pissed on before, never thought of it. The ammonia smell was harsh and I could taste it as it poured over my lips. Jesus, I thought, this is too much, these guys could really hurt me. I must have relaxed a little, giving up my position.
They grabbed my arms and legs and pulled me back so that I lay on the floor facing them. Then another and another began pissing on me. The smell was intoxicating, the sensation as the streams of piss struck my nipples, stomach and cock and balls was incredible. Jesus Christ! I loved it. I opened my mouth to taste it and a steady stream hit my tongue.
"Shit! He likes it!"
"Look at him lap it up. The kid's as queer as you are Bobby."
"Christ almighty, let's git him in the sling."
Powerful arms, full of muscle and brawn, lifted me like I was a sack of corn. They stank. The smell coming from there armpits almost made me sick. While they carried me, someone kissed my nipples and licked away the piss that settled in the hollow between them. The bristles of his beard scratched my naked skin. Someone's hot mouth sucked on my balls, his face buried in my pissy pubic hair. I was getting hot. I mean hot. God I wanted it. Do it. Do it to me I cried silently.
They lay me on a wide leather sling that must have hung from the rafters.
Placing my ankles in stirrups that were wide apart, they pulled my legs up so that while my body lay horizontal, the legs were verticle amd spread, exposing my ass and cock. My head rested on leather. It must have been only three feet or so from the ground, for someone stood at my head and rubbed his hot wet smelly testicles and hard cock in my face.
I felt the touch of fingers, delicate petals, trace on the cheeks of my ass. A finger slipped into the crack and massaged the anus with a gentle back and forth motion.
"Jesus Christ! He's got a tight hole. Relax, queer, " he sneered
He forced the finger inside, "Holy Christ!"
"You don't want him, let me have him. Christ, I gotta stand around here waitin' for you to loosen him up. Git fuckin', man, or let me do it."
The sling began to sway back and forth, but the man who won the first fuck stepped forward, and held it steady. He rubbed the tip of his hard cock against the membrane protecting my anus. I realized he was getting it harder and ready for penetration. It was an exciting thought and I tried to relax for I knew it would make the fuck less painful.
The man who stood in back of me rubbed his cock against my lips . I opened them and it slipped into my mouth now. Our relative positions seemed to open my throat so that it easily slipped in all the way. His hairy testicles slapped against my eyes and nose. I loved the sensation of his cock deep down my throat and rolled my tongue around it. "Yeah baby, that's it," he said as he fucked his cock in and out of my throat. Shit, don't stop baby. You like to suck don't you queer boy?"
I felt warm breath on my own swollen cock. Someone kissed it with wet lapping kisses and then sucked it into his mouth. My nipples were chewed on, my toes and feet played with. Someone even tugged on the hairs growin in the pits. My whole body was on fire, a conflagration growing great and greater, sending the levels of pleasure higher and higher.
But then all the pleasure, all awareness of this incredible experience suddenly disappeared as the fucking man abruptly shoved his fucking cock into my rectum. The searing pain was excruciating and I must have passed out, until my asshole accommodated the fuck, and the first gradual sense of sweet pleasure awakened me. It was the exquisite sensation of the fuck.
The back and forth notion of the cock that had caused so much pain, now touched the sensitive nerves in the anus and the sleeve of the rectum.
The sling swayed back and forth with the motion, and the cock I was sucking moved in an out in the same rhythm. And in this incredible moment someone sucked my cock, kissed my nipples, played with my feet. Everywhere on my naked body, there was the thrill of being used and played with. The enormous sweet pleasure rose higher and higher until it reached an ecstatic level where it continued on and on. With a hoarse shout and a final thrust of his cock deep into my asshole, I felt the hot cum explode inside me.
Their positions shifted and then the second man fucked me, then the third, the fourth , the fifth. The fuckings continued. I lost count, for a sweet exhaustion swept over me like a giant rain cloud. I drifted in and out of consciousness, aware only of the pleasure of the many fuckings and the feast of cum spurting down my willing throat. And through it all, I was kissed and licked everywhere. Warm silky piss was a frequent baptism. I never cried for them to stop, to leave me alone, to let me rest, for I loved it, loved the many pleasures. But finally, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted into a long and dreamless sleep that must have lasted many hours.
Michael awakened me as he carefully and tenderly released me from the sling. I could barely stand alone. The men were gone. Had it all been a dream? No, the smell of piss was there, the throbbing of my asshole was proof enough of the fuckings. Gobs of shit had dried and hung from Michael's body hair. He had been abused as much as I had. The way he walked was a grim reminder of the pain that surged in his asshole.
Thank god! It was over.
Somehow we managed to find our car with the keys still in the ignition. We dressed, and drove back to the Hilton in Lafayette, where we could be alone. Though the orgy had drained us of our strength by the pleasure that went on and on and on, there was no final satisfaction for either of us.
We need each other for that.
"I love you," he said, leaning over me. His hips rotated against mine, his cock, incredibly erect pressed against mine. His hand slipped to my buttocks, the fingers tracing pleasure words on the cheeks, slipping into the warm and moist crack seeking the hole.
I slipped out from under him and gently, but firmly, took hold of his shoulders and pressed him to the mattress. Bending forward, my open lips found his testicles. They were loose and shriveled, and rested on the silky sheet like empty sacks. The cobwebbed hair had been shaved away and made the skin soft and pliable. I could feel the two balls inside and sucked them into my mouth. He groaned and ground his hips into the soft bed.
"I love you," he said again. This time in a hoarse whisper.
I rolled the balls around in my mouth once more. Then back further to the part behind. He smelled of sex and cum and sweat and shit. His hole had lost all resistance and was loose from the many fucks and my tongue slipped into it tasting the excretions of his many attackers, and I ate the remnants of semen, the man-seed caught and resting inside him.
"I love you," he cried raising his legs up and back over his shoulders so I could eat more deeply into his ass-hole.
I seemed not to be able to get enough of him, and sucked and lapped hungrily at the cum-feast for a long time. Then I pulled away and he lowered his legs. I could see his cock, the rising spear of solid muscle, as a dim light seeped into the room. The sun had begun to rise. The day was upon us. His tool smelled of the many places it had been since yesterday, and I rolled my tongue over it washing away all the pleasure stains that had accumulated there. And then I sucked it into my throat, deep, yet deeper still.
"I love you," he whispered again and again.
I slid up his body trailing my tongue in a thick forest of fine hair, to his shaved nipples, exposed now, swollen from sucking mouths and his own passion. Then to his smelly pits, sweat pockets caught beneath his arms.
I lingered, punishing myself with his animal smell and acrid taste, as I sucked on the hairs that grew there. He giggled with muffled laughter as my nose and lips tickled him and then he pulled me to him so that our mouths met in an open and wet kiss. He hugged me in a lovers' embrace.
"I love you," he said.
I sucked on his tongue once more. We lay together, quietly giving and taking from each other, for a long time as a comforting peace calmed us.
It was then he slipped his cock into my asshole. The fucking was slow and deliberate, slipping in and out with amazing ease. The pleasure began to swell. I could feel it first in the depths of my bowels, then emanating to my balls and up into the chest. I pulsated the sphincter deliberately milking his cock, increasing his pleasure, motiviating him to fuck harder.
His passions climbed to demanding heights and he began to moan. Quietly at first, but then his guttoral sounds grew as the intense pounding into my asshole increased. The bed became a violent sea.
He shouted, "I LOVE YOU," at the top of his voice as his cock plunged in and out of my rectum. His loose balls slapped the bottoms of my ass and his spurting cum triggered my prostate so the I too exploded the last remnants that had been lurking in the folds of my near-empty scrotum. We had reached the last and final platform of mutual pleasure. Drained of energy, we lay still, his body on top of mine, his arms around me holding me as though he were afraid to let me go, his head was buried in the crook, between my neck and shoulders.
"I love you," he whispered and he fell asleep.
It was dark when I awoke. Had we slept the whole day through? A sliver of light gleamed under the bathroom door, barely perceptible, but there, and I heard the water as it cascaded down from the shower. I slipped out of bed to join him. The need to cleanse myself was all-powerful. Overwhelmed only by the need to see him, and to be with him again.
I slipped into the stall. The warm water, silky with soap, fell upon both of us now. His arms enfolded me in a loving embrace. His eyes sparkled, wrinkled with an inside smile of welcome. Before words were spoken our kisses affirmed our love for each other. Stonger than ever before.
"Hi, Danny," he said simply and quietly. There was a bashfulness about him now, a lowering of his head, "God I do love you, Danny. I guess I never knew what love was until last night."
Then he started to laugh. He raised his head and looked into my eyes. "My God, it took a fucking gang rape to make me know how much. All those fancy words I gave you in New Orleans meant nothing really, did they?" And he brushed his lips across mine, and began soaping my shoulders and back.
"I didn't expect it to be so good, so complete. You know what I mean?" I said. "I knew I loved you right from the start, back in New Orleans that is, but somehow it took all those guys, I don't even know what they look like or even their names, to make me realize how much you mean to me."
And so it was. Our adventures led us far and wide, but they brought us back to where we were in the first place.