A sudden breeze sent the falling leaves scurrying to the gutter with the sound of rustled paper. I felt the first drop as it struck my cheek and, looking up to the dark clouds, I knew we were in for a heavy rain, but I was too much in need to leave the fire hydrant that was my seat.

I looked at the other hustlers around me, sitting on curbs or steps, or leaning against buildings. They looked to the threatening skies with anxious frowns. Though the raindrops were warm and tropical, they caused the young men to put on discarded jackets, or button opened shirts to cover bare skin.

We were on Selma Avenue in Hollywood, the citys' most active meat-rack, and we were male hustlers selling ourselves to the cruising Johns. It was Friday afternoon of a summer day in 1964. I was a student at USC engaged in the graduate study of economics with the ultimate goal of law school, and I supplemented my meager income in a most pleasant and satisfying way.

Like the others, I had been hoping for a week-end lover; a John who would keep me until Monday morning, when I would return to the straight world, richer in experience and wallet. But the rain put a damper on that hope.

(no pun intended). It was raining hard, now.

I watched them, as they took off, one by one, headed for gay bars and coffee shops and porn theaters, in the hopes of finding their Johns there.

Those with money would go to one of the many bath houses that thrived in this iniquitous part of the city, and wait for the rain to stop. But I refused to leave my seat, the most exposed and noticeable site on the street. I was horny and broke. There were no alternatives.

My hair was wet, thoroughly so. I could barely see for my glasses were covered with drops of rain water. I was dressed in running shorts and a t-shirt, both of which were of such thin material that as they clung to body, they revealed it, showing all the subtle nuances: the rippling muscles quivering in excitement, and the sprinkling of hair that scattered over my chest and down my abdomen. Even my nipples, enlarged and erect, crowning a well-developed chest, were visible. I felt a stirring in my loins as the wet shorts gripped me and molded around the curves of my testicles and held in the expanding penis. The rain was turning me on.

I sensed a growing excitement as I realized that I was the only hustler left on the street. I guess if it hadn't been for the rain, what happened that week-end never would have happened.

When the red Corvette turned the corner and slowed down as it approached me, I knew that something was about to break loose. When it flashed its'

lights, I knew for sure. I stood up, better to reveal my slender frame and smiled a welcome greeting. I had been hustling ever since my first year in college, and knew that to hook the fish, I had to make the first move, even though the John, in fact, was the hunter. It was necessary to assure him in some way that I was not vice. I rolled my tongue over my lips and touched the fly on my short shorts. Dipping my head, I smiled bringing my fingers to my lips in a suggested kiss. He steered the Corvette to the curb, and rolled down the window on the passenger side.

I leaned on the car door and looked in. Ah! This was the moment of revelation.

He was a young man. His hair was long, sitting over the tops of his ears and cascading down his neck. It was copper gold in color. He was handsome.

Angular features clearly defined the high cheek bones and jutting chin.

Blue eyes smiled as his lips formed an almost bashful grin, but he held his head high and proud. He was an aristocrat, a man who had lived the good life, never wanting or worrying. How lucky for me, for he was not only handsome, he was rich, too.

"What's up?" he asked looking at me, a half-smile flashing across his face.

I nodded a silent yes to his implied question. Now we both were playing it carefully. Neither of us was sure of the other yet.

"I guess it's raining pretty hard," I said non-committantly. An understate- ment if ever there was one.

"Maybe you'd better get in out of the rain," he said reaching for the door.

His tongue protruded from full lips. The smile was frozen in place. He stared at my crotch. My cock had swollen to horizontal and extended my wet shorts out, pointing at him. I made no attempt to cover myself, for I felt safe with him now. It was obvious what he was, just as it was obvious what I was. We both wanted each other. The door opened and I slipped onto the leather seat.

"How much?"

"Depends......How much time you want?"

"I'm in L.A. for the week-end and I....."

"I usually get 200 for all night," I interrupted, "a three nighter is five."

He was so handsome I was about to add, 'but I'll do it for three,' but he nodded his acceptance and the terms were agreed upon with minimum discussion.

I settled back on the soft leather seat as he accellerated the car.

Silence in the beginning has always been awkward for me. "What do I call you?" I asked him.

"My name is Alex, but you call me Sir! You understand?" He looked at me briefly. he smile was gone and the warmth of him went away with it. "You do what I tell you and we'll get along just fine."

"Yes Sir!"

He headed east on Sunset until we got to the Silverlake hills. Turning right on Maltman, he soared up the steep hill and around Winslow, then turned into a narrow drive. An electric door opened for us to drive through, then it closed quietly. We were in a garage. Leaving the car we entered a large room. There were no windows. The walls were mirrored No lamps were lit to dispell the dimness of the room. The remains of a fire smouldered in the fireplace. He added several logs and their illumination brighted the room. He struck a match and lit many candles.

Their dancing flames added an erotic atmosphere.

He walked to a counter against the wall. It was a bar of sorts, and he got two bottles of beer. He handed one to me. He didn't ask me if I wanted it.

I watched him as he strode across the room. He was tall. Very tall.

Muscular, yet lean. His figure was young and athletic. He walked quickly with a spring in his step. Then he turned toward me and saluted with his beer. His smile was back now, and I felt better for it.

"Take off your clothes," he said.

And I did.

I stood naked, my hands by my side. I watched him as he stared at me. He was intent, as though he were memorizing my body. It was exciting to have him look at me. I could feel the blood rush to my cock as it became erect.

I am uncut, and the foreskin rolled back with the swelling of the muscle.

I felt exposed and vulnerable. My nipples harded too, and I wished he would command me to do something. It seemed strange to be so silent at so exciting a moment.

He looked pleased, happy with his purchased. There was the confidence of ownership as he walked around me assessing my curves and angles. A micro inspection of a naked slave. This was the crucial moment in a hustlers'

life; the moment of acceptance. Knowing that he was not disappointed caused a thrill to rush through me. It was almost as good as being loved.

"Grab you ankles."

"Yes Sir!"

He slapped the curve of my buttocks with his open hand. He slapped again.

There was a resounding crack. I almost fell over.

"Steady," he said, smiling, and he slipped a finger into my anus. As far as it would go. He twisted it inside my rectum. "I'm going to fuck you, a lot.

And then he laughed. "Shit! It's full of shit!"

He pulled his finger out and brought it around to my face. The familiar smell of this secret garden excited me. "Lick it," he said. "Clean it."

and I did.

"Get up on the bed, and lay on you back."

I did as I was told. I looked at him. His tie was untied now, hanging loosely around his neck. The top buttons of his shirt were open, and I could see a mass of copper chest hair. I wished he would take off his clothes. I wanted to make him feel good. I wanted his cock.

"Raise your legs," he said gruffly, "Get them up. Higher. Yes, that's it, back over your shoulder.

Then came the hum. He had an electric razor in his hand. He put it into the crack of my ass. The steady vibration of it caused a delicious sensation in my cock. He worked the razor back and forth slowly and carefully, shaving away the hair that grew there. It took a long time.

I wished it would take forever for the pleasure in my cock was sharp and sweet. When the crack was shaved clean, he applied the razor to my balls.

"Aaahhh! Aaahhh!" I cried. "Oh God, Sir! You better stop or I'll come."

"Don't come," his voice was firm and demanding. "You understand?"

"Yes Sir."

He continued shaving the balls and then up the swollen and erect cock to shave away a few errant hairs that grew on it. I held my fingers in a tight fist. I thought of mother and christmas and tried to sing silent carols......'Oh Holy Night!' I cried real tears, and my nails cut into the palm of my hand. eventually he pulled away. The humming stopped, and though there were no there were no more vibrations, my cock tingled with exquisite pleasure that only gradually receded. I had delayed coming. He smiled, nodding his satisfaction. I was rewarded.

I was extremely horny now. I could still feel the tingle in my cock and balls. I was ready, but he prolonged it, continuing the agonizing pleasure of delay. He handed me another can of beer. A cool liquid respite to hold off, and wash away the tightness in my parched throat.

I smelled the marijuana as he lit a joint. Sucking in a great gust of its'

smoke into his lungs, he passed it to me and I did the same, holding it in as long as I could. It exploded out in a fit of coughing. I sipped the beer and lay back enjoying the delicious surge of lust.

We looked at each other. The vision, improved by marijuanas' veil, enhanced all physical things. His smile was open now, revealing white even teeth, surrounded by full and pasionate lips. Deepset eyes flashed hot desire, and my growing excitement caused me to stretch my body, offering it to him.

His steel blue eyes continued to stare at me. I watched as they went from cock to nipples to my face, my nipples, and back to my cock again. It was as though his stare reached out and caressed my skin. I loved the way he looked at me, wishing only that he would take off his clothes. I wanted him naked too, to see the whole of him. But he was teasing himself as well as me.

His hands touched my shoulders, pushing me back onto the bed. I stared at the ceiling. It was mirrored, too. I reached up to embrace myself. At that moment he grabbed my arms and pulled them back over my head, so that my wrists touched each corner. With an incredibly swift and silent movement he locked them into restraints that had been hidden there. The soft leather gripped my wrists and held them to the surface of the bed. It happened too quickly for me to stop it, though I knew at the time, that given the choice I would have submitted to his wants.

When he went to my ankles, I lay passive on the hard mattress. I was ready to give him anything he desired. No longer a hustler, the soul of a slave had taken over. I belonged to him now.

Underneath his jeans, his basket was full, the cock stretching to get out of its' confinement. I watched the expanding crotch, and saw the shape of the bone, alive and warm. The stain on the fabric of his slacks was dripping loves' juices. I looked to his blue eyes, willing him to bring his cock out and jam it into my mouth.

His eyes were smiling, pleased with himself, but his lips frowned in deep concentration as he affixed the leather braces to my ankles in slow deliberation. Once secure, he attached them to a chain, which he hooked on to the back wall. My legs were pulled high into the air, and lay over my prone body. The hooks on the wall were position wide apart, so that my legs veered in opposite directions, spreading my buttocks and exposing my hairless anus.

He played with it, inserting his fingers. First one, then two and three.

The shit in the lower bowel did not bother him. When he pulled his fingers away, I could see the brown stains, and could smell the pungent odor of it.

He put his finger to my face and smelled them, inhaling as one inhale poppers.

He put his fingers into my mouth, and I washed them clean.

He chuckled to himself, "You like that don't you?"

"Yes sir."

It was then that he stood up and looked at my contorted body, doubled in its'

strange position, and he unbuttoned his shirt, and throwing it on the floor, he kicked off his shoes. Slipping out of his jeans, he was naked at last!

I looked at him. His handsome face was unimportant now. I studied only his enormous cock jutting out of his hairy loins. The tip of it was red and shiny in the soft candlelight. He too, was uncut. His body, perfect in every way had not been tampered with. The prepuce was loose, and I watched it as it slid back over the swelling knob. Thick blue veins coursed down the side of the swollen muscle losing themselves in the thick bush of coppered-colored hair. It was huge. There must have been ten inches of solid meat, slender in circumference. The piss eye stared at me. I wanted to grab it, to hold it, to play with it, to love it with kisses, to worship it with a sucking mouth.

"You want it bad, don't you, cocksucker?" he said with a sneer.

I nodded yes. Words were unnecessary, and inadequate too. I strained my arms from the restraints in an attempt to free them so that I could touch this idol cock.

"Yes Sir, " I said. "I want it. Please give it to me sir." I could feel the hurt in my own cock as it stretched beyond its limit.

The mattress shook like a violent sea as he climbed upon it, and placing one knee on each side of me, he straddled my chest. I felt his heavy testicles on my neck as he rubbed his cock over my face. I opened my mouth wishing him to put it in, but he only teased me, allowing a licking wet kiss on the shaft. I tasted salty sweat as his balls covered my open mouth, and his erect cock rubbed over my forehead. So near, yet so far.

He slid forward so that now he was sitting on my face. My nose was buried in his musky crack. I wondered at the filth of it. He was so much the gentleman, fastidious and perfect in all appearances, yet the many hairs that grew there were crusted with gobs of dried shit. It must have been weeks since he had cleaned himself. The smell of this secret Eden sent shocking impulses down my spine and I kissed his filthy anus with open lips, my tongue separating the hairs that covered it. The tasty membrane was smooth and slick.

I sucked away the remnants of shit caught in the hair. He pressed himself down on my face and I sucked on his shitty asshole. His sphincter relaxed, opened so that my tongue slipped inside, licking away the bitter shit. He groaned his pleasure, while I muffled mine. But my pleasure had to be greater than his. After a while, he raised his trunk off my face. I tried to hold him there, for I wasn't ready to let him go yet, but he pulled away.

"Please, don't go, Sir." But he didn't go. He only twisted his position around so that he was facing the other way. He settled his buttocks back down on my face, and I pushed my tongue into his asshole once more. "Ah, yes. thank you, sir," I said as I sucked and the luscious feast continued.

And then a new sensation. I felt a warm flush of liquid on my cock. God, he was pissing on me! Ah God! The pleasure was too much to bear. I pulled my body up off the bed, to better meet the cascading stream, and I pushed my violent tongue deeper into his ass-hole, slobbering saliva, and sucking shit from it in a frenzy.

His hands reached to a puddle of piss that had gathered in the hollows of my body, and slurped the warm slimy liquid everywhere; into my pits, over my nipples, down my abs, and the hot steamy piss still flowed out of his cock and onto mine. His hands cupped my testicles, pulling them up against the hard cock, and I knew there was no way I could stop it now. No way to call it back. It started deep in the balls, an enormous surge of electric pleasure shot through my swollen penus and exploded cum everywhere. The force of it was so great that it splashed on my chest, my shoulders and certainly on his cock and balls.

My tongue plunged deeper into his asshole, and I sucked with a fury that could not be denied. He whimpered. He cried. He ground his ass into my face. With a cry of pleasure he exploded his cum, to mingle with mine, on my piss-drenched body.

When he pulled away, he released the chains that bound me. He stretched his body over mine. Head to head, feet leveraged to feet, stomach to stomach. He held me in his arms and kissed me. I could feel the beating of his heart against mine, and we lay together for a long time, until the passion receded and turned itself into love.

I was the first to awaken, how many hours later? The light from the many candles was almost gone, for most of them had drown in their own melted wax. But there was light enough for me to see him lying next to me. He was on his back, his head cradled in his hands, elbows to the ceiling.

His breath came and went in a slow steady rhythm.

I raised myself to better look at him. How handsome he was. How beautiful his naked body. Curly golden hair scattered over his chest, thick, but not so thick as to cover rust-covered nipples. They protruded out beyond it, flushed with passion. I looked at his cock. It too, surged with a lusty need of love. Standing erect and tall, it soared out of the island of pubic hair. His balls were solid, packed with loves juices, not at all drained as one might expect, given the passion he spent. Was he dreaming a fantasy? The smile on his relaxed face reflected pleasure. It was my duty to enhance it for him.

I bent forward to suck a nipple. Tasting the salty remnants of dried piss reminded me of the piss bath he gave me, and I felt a stir, a nostalgia to have him do it again. How satisfying it was that I had served him, yielded to his whim.

He announced my waking him with my kisses, by a quiet moan. He placed his hand on the back of my head and guided it down to where I intended to go anyway. I smelled our spent passion as my nose traced through his body hair on my way to the genital altar....Ah! I kissed it, licked it and loved it with an uncontrolled spasm of lust. His cock was God and I worshipped it with concentration.

I was his slave, and it was my duty to give excitement in every way.

But in an indirect way, he was my slave too, for sucking on his cock caused his passion to rise, his need for me to grow, just as I willed it to do. I tasted him, my tongue licking the underside of his balls.

Then I remembered his ass-hole and the pleasure of it, the exquisite luscious passion that grew between us when he accepted my tongue into this secret part of him. I slipped my tongue back into the forest of redolent hair, smelling of piss and shit and spit and love-sweat.

Gently he pulled my head away.

"Here," he said, "Lay beside me."

I did, and he placed his arms around my shoulders drawing me to him.

He kissed me. His lips were moist and soft. His breath was sweet.

His tongue pushed its way inside and I sucked on it as it explored the cave of my mouth. It was as though it were alive and independent of the rest of him. Our tongues tangled in a love dance. There was passive pleasure here, delicate and tender. A budding love nurtured between us.

We sucked breath into our lungs and teased each other with warm, pliable lips, A luscious pleasure washed over us. Hot breath in my ear, echoed his whispers of pleasure mingled with wet kisses. He sucked on my ear as he whispered. His warm and moist breath delived a thrilling message.

"I want to fuck now."

"Yes Sir, I want you to, Sir. Let me take care of it, Sir. Please Sir, just lie still."

I went to the table. The marijuana, rolled into tight little logs, was there along with lubricant and poppers. I lit a joint and inhaled a deep breath of it into my lungs. I handed it to him. The dim glow of the flickering candle cast a pale light over him as he lay on his back, looking at his own image staring back at him from the mirrored ceiling.

His erect cock, tremendous in size reached for it, and lust for it overwhelmed me. 'That cock is mine, that huge cock is mine.' I said to myself, "and he is going to fuck me, to shove it up my ass.'

Bending forward, I kissed it, sucking away all the drudge and passion that had accumulated on it, so that it would be clean when it entered my rectum, my shitty ass-hole. Hunger for the fuck was growing. The horny desire to feel that solid cock inside me was sending thrilling messages of pleasure down my spine like the trigger of lightning.

I rubbed lubricant over the swollen tip of it and on the shaft. He was watching every movement I made, appraising the actions of his filthy slave. Then I put some in my ass-hole to make the entry easier. I was worried for I knew there would be difficulty taking that huge piece of horse-cock inside me. Then I took the amyl inhaler, full of excitement like a genie in a bottle, and I climbed onto the bed facing him. As I straddled his hips I saw the smile of anticipation in his eyes.

I lowered myself upon the turgid love-shaft. Looking at him, at his beautiful naked body lying under me, I was too excited to feel the shock of pain as he entered. My ass-hole pulled him into itself like a vaccuum, so anxious was I to be fucked. Ah! We were joined together now. I sat high in the saddle of his cock and balls and began my ride. Slow at first, and then a gradual increase to a cantor. The pleasure of friction increased with each moment, and the exquisite sensation expanded to encompass not only my ass-hole, but my entire body.

The rhythm of the ride grew faster and faster with mounting ecstacy, and all through the love and passion and pleasure, our eyes were locked together trasferring sensation to love and they told us the climax was near. Crashing symbols burst as we fulfilled our horny needs and exploded our passion with impossible force.

The pleasure was so great that it could not satisfy us. When it was over we wanted more. His cock remained hard in my rectum as I fell forward, rubbing my chest in the cum accumulated there, and our lips met in a wet kiss and he began to fuck again.

"Thank you, Sir," I said.


Alex and the Hustler

Part 2

by joe wilson

I felt the comfort and security of his warm body as he tossed one leg over mine and buried his face in the armpit. He licked at the hairs that grew there, like a cat that washes itself. It tickled me. I laughed abruptly from deep in my throat. His arm was around my shoulder.

The other, his hand dangling in my crotch, played with my cock. I pulled his head away from the pit and reached my face down to his and our tongues met in a lovely kiss.

"Good morning, Sir," I said. "I guess it's morning. Seems like I've been sleeping forever........ What time is it?."

He rubbed his cock against my leg. Oh man! He was hard again. He must have come at least six times last night. He stirred, raised from the bed, then fell back down upon it.

"It's ten to two. We lost Saturday morning somewhere. "You okay?" he asked in a tone that showed he cared.

"Yes sir. I'm fine."

I stretched my body, luxuriating in the pleasure of his caresses and the silk sheets and his wet kisses, as he licked me. "I'm starving. All that excerise got me hungry. Got the grass munchies too, and my mouth tastes like a fucking cesspool. Other than that I'm fine sir."

He chuckled quietly to himself and began licking my chest, seeking a nipple in the absolute darkness of the room. The final candle had flickered in the last light somewhere during the long night. He stirred again and reaching to the table he caused a peach-colored light to glow softly about the room. I looked at him as he lay beside me looking at me.


"Hello Sir," I answered with a smile. I had forgotten how handsome he was and remembering the night sent a rush of pleasure through me.

I don't know your name," he said.

"It's Joe, Sir. Joe Wilson."

"Well Joe, you're something."

"You are too, Sir."

He bounded out of bed with the whoop of the comanche. "Come on Joe.

Let's get dressed and get some chow." He turned to me and added, "I got some clothes you can wear."

"Yes Sir," I shouted with happy excitement as I followed him.

It was late afternoon by the time we finished our combined breakfast and lunch. We were resuscitated now. All the energies were put back into our bodies. We spent the rest of the day in happy contentment, solidifying a friendship that was growing fast and complete, discovering many mutual likes and dislikes in music and food and art.

I accepted my roll of subservience because I knew that that was the way he wanted it to be between us. And looking back upon it over the years, I know that that's the way I wanted it too. I was so in awe of the beauty or him that a different role would have been impossible.

Neither of us spoke of what we did to each other the night before. It was as though speaking of it would break the spell of it, and the excitement of forbidden pleasures would be lost.

After a lovely twilight at the beach, watching the sunset, we had an expensive dinner at Katsu on Hillhurst. Experimenting with the unusual and exotic was the pattern of our relationship. Afterwards we took a slow cruise down the meat-rack checking out the hustlers and the johns. I saw the fire-plug that I claimed, noticing that it was unoccupied. Perhaps he who had used it earlier in the evening, was now tangling legs and tongues somewhere with a new lover. It was almost ten. I snuggled next to Alex, my hand caught in his loins, feeling the bone expand. My belonging to him was secure now.

"It's early. Let's get a beer or two and watch the hunter catch his quarry." A poetic statement for the evening.

"Yes Sir."

The bar was crowded with the usual coterie of gays in their flamboyant and outrageous costumes. He held my hand, the sign of possession, as he pulled me toward the counter. With two Buds each, we drifted back against a wall in a dark corner to watch the excitement of the night.

After we finished our first beer, Alex lit a joint and passed it to me.

It was quality. The marijuana washed over me like a giant blush.

Suddenly, all the erotic excitement of last night came together from outer limits where I had suppressed it all day. In a crashing moment I wanted it all again. All of it. I wanted Alex. I wanted sex. I wanted his cock, and most of all, I wanted his anus, his luscious moist and hot ass-hole.

Alex's needs must have mastered him too, for I watched in fascination as he opened his zipper and pulled out his cock, growing in size and tumescence. He held it down with one hand so that the piss slit was aimed at the empty bottle he held in the other hand. As he pissed his stream into it, he seemed unaware that everyone around us was watching.

When the bottle was full he handed it to me. Words were unnecessary.

It was warm to the touch, and with my hand shaking with anticipation, I raised the bottle to my lips and drank it all. Murmurs of approbation mixed with approval surrounded us.

When it was finished, Alex whispered in my ear, "Let's go," and to surprising applause we fled to the Corvette and drove home to the house on the ridge in Silverlake.

"You okay?" he asked as he held my hand, entwining his fingers with mine.

"Yes Sir. I almost creamed, but I didn't."

His laugh was sudden and spontaneous. "Yipes!" he cried, and the car spurted ahead.

In flickering candlelight we undressed each other. Slowly at first, kissing lips and tongues, unbuttoning buttons and pulling down zippers.

Our hands slipped into warm and hairy places, touching bare skin and solid muscles. Our eyes triggered the excitement growing in our loins.

Once naked, we assumed the attitude of lovers tenderly transferring loves'

pleasures from one to the other, sucking body parts into hungry mouths like vampires; lapping on hot skin, sprinkled with smelly hair, still redolent with the pissy shit of last nights' orgy.

Somehow we fell into the contra position of the sixty-nine. My mouth slipped over the cock and testicles to the bitter anus, softly yielding to my probing tongue. His belly hair mingled with mine. Ah! This is what I wanted, what I had been missing all day, my nose buried in his ass-crack smelling all his secrets, the levels of sensation sharpened by marijuanas' smoke. Our ejaculate was timed for a mutual explosion of exquisite pleasure that belongs only to lovers.

We rested a while. A brief moment in our sexual odyssey. Then passion resumed its dominance, and we disappeared into our role of master and slave.

The chrome and tile of the huge bathroom gleamed in the candles' light.

Looking into the mirrored wall my image was reflected back. I was lying spread-eagled, on a leather sling that hung from the ceiling, and rested about three feet above the floor. My legs, spread apart, were raised above my horizontal torso. I could see into the mirror on the other wall.

My ass was exposed, shorn of the hairs that grew there. My puckered hole, pink and vulnerable, was open and available. He stood beside me with a narrow anal probe, electrified and buzzing. The hum was barely perceptible, like the wings of a butterfly, but it triggered a shudder of anticipation.

He touched it to my balls, and traced the vibrating tip of it up my hard cock to where the foreskin had fallen back. Slipping over the glans to the exposed tip, he rested it on the piss-slit. Excitement was short-waved to all the erogenous zones. Pulsating pleasure spheres shot like darts everywhere inside me. Then back to the anus, loose and dilating with expected pleasure, he inserted it inside my rectum, deeper and deeper, until finally it grazed againse my prostate.

"Oh my god, Sir!"

"Don't come."

"Oh my god, Sir"

"Don't come I said, and I mean it."

"Pleae, please stop, Sir. Oh jesus god! I'm coming. Oh my god!"

"Don't come slave. I said don't come. I mean it ass-hole."

"Oh jesus help me!" I cried as the cum shot out of my cock.

"I told you not to come. I ordered it, he yelled in a harsh and abrupt scream, his words echoing against the hard walls of mirror and tile. "How dare you disobey me. You'll be punished now." Each word was punctuated by a resounding slap on my hip.

He unshackled my arms and legs, and helping me out of the sling he led me to a table on a side wall.

"Bend over," he said. Rest your arms on top. That's it, lean on it," and he picked up a paddle. "Now baby, you'll get it. I'll teach you to disobey me. Bend over, slave."

"I'm sorry, Sir." He hit me, sharp and powerful, a resounding crack shattered the quiet.


"I'm sorry, Sir."

He hit me again. A stinging blow on my buttocks. "Louder," he yelled as he struck me again.

"I'm sorry, Sir," I yelled back. I could see him relected in the mirror.

His cock was thrust forward, stuffed with passion. His body thrilled at the beating, wallowed in lust that now dictated his every move.

And as each slap on the cheeks resounded, the sting of it caused a wonderful warmth and pleasure in the heart of my balls and the core of my cock.

"Oh my god, Sir, please, hit me harder. I'm sorry I disobeyed you. Hit me harder, Sir. I deserve it, Sir. I'm sorry."

And the paddle came down on my ass in one more swipe of justice. He fell to his knees and, grabbing me around the waist, he pulled my body to him, slobbering over my ass. His tongue washed away the stinging hurt with kisses, as a father would tend the wounds of his son. He slipped his fingers into the crack between the ass-cheeks and separating them he kissed my hole.

"Ah Sir!" I moaned. "Ah! Ah!"

He pulled away and raised himself from his subordinate position. I turned to him and we were locked in a lovers embrace, welded together by a deep wet kiss. Our cocks tangled in pubic hair, and he led me out of the bathroom to the bed where he lay beside me. He looked at me, his eyes were warm and glistened with tears caught in golden lashes.

"I love you," he said as he exhaled sweet breath over me. And his lips pasted circles of wet on all the parts of my chest and abdomen that they touched, and then he kissed my cock, so proud in its strength and rock hardness. The solid muscle rising out of its' patch of hair as though it had its own presence, independent from the rest of my body. And I watch his reflection in the mirror as he licked my cock with his agile tongue and deep throat. He pulled away, turning his head he looked at me.

"Don't come."

"Yessir! I won't come. Not now, Sir." And he worshipped my cock in all the ways that he knew, and I didn't come.

We drank beer and smoked grass and watched porn on the giant T V screen as we lay together naked on the bed. Our hands and mouths built pleasures plateaus, each higher than the last, and like the tower of babel, reached to heaven.

It seemed that my concentrated hunger was centered on his anus, an addiction to taste and smell, to suck on the pliable ass-hole that gave little resistance to an active tongue or to probing fingers. By some muscular power, he was able to raise his legs up into the air and roll them back over his body. His ever ready cock, swollen with energy, hung above his face. With a litte prodding of his hand upon his thighs, he was able to lower the cock to where he swallowed it into his mouth. I watched with envy and fascination as he fellated himself, his tongue working on the smooth tight skin, over familiar ridges and curves and swollen blood vessels.

It was when he was in this contorted position that I separated the buttocks and exposed the pink, throbbing, hair-covered anus. While his cock was deep into his throat, my tongue was drooling in his rectum. His pleasure was two-edged. It thrilled me to know I helped him achieve this extreme level of pleasure. His control extended the wild sensation. He seemed to know when to pull away from the brink of a realized climax.

When it was over we rested, drinking beer and smoking grass, we watched videos of Christopher Rage and his perverted brothers perform ultimate indecencies upon each other. Just as we performed them on ourselves.

But most exciting of all was the piss. That silky stream. Warm and luscious. Flowing from his cock onto mine. It varied in its' flow. At first a dribble, slow to begin its' evacuation from a full and distended bladder, the yellow stream gained in intensity and soon struck my body with a marvelous stinging sensation. The acrid ammonia stink of it enhanced the excitement, for it was a reminder that this most intimate action of one upon the other was forbidden. When the flow was at its'

greatest level, I opened my mouth to feel the pressure of it upon my tongue, and most thrilling of all, the back of my throat where it triggered a pleasure unique to the action. In addition to this overwhelming sensual pleasure was the satisfaction of the psychological need. The need to prove to my lover that I was in fact his slave, dedicated to give myself to him.

All the while that he pissed on me; in my hair, on my nipples and cock and in my throat, I was his toilet.

The climax of our weekend came when somewhere in time, when the candles were flickering their last shadowed light, he pissed into my rectum while he fucked me. I sensed the flood, so warm and comforting, like a shot of rare brandy. I had reached the limit of subservience now. I thought there was no further I could go to prove my enslavement, but I was wrong. There was one step left. One more attitude left to drag me into the pit of depravity trapping me in a rising tide of lust.

When he eased his cock out, he yelled, "Hold it."

"Yes, Sir."

He fell onto the bed, lying on his back. "Stand over me," he demanded, and then, "Okay slave, let it loose."

The piss and shit inundated him. The piss enema poured out and sprayed over him like a tidal wave. He was covered with it. He was wet now, interpolated with clods of little soft turds that were redolent and excited me.

"Get down, on top of me. Lay your body on mine."

I did, absorbing the stink of the hellish ablutions that pasted our bodies together. I slid around in this pool of muck so that my pissy cock and balls were in his face, just as his were in mine, and the sounds of sucking and lapping and slurping were accented by the groans of need and giving.

We abandoned ourselves to the demons of lust. It was a depraved feast, yet a feast of thanksgiving. As we sucked away the remnants of piss and shit, sperm ejaculated from the hidden corners of our scrotums. The tensions of the night had reached their final limit, and we drifted over the horizon of time, into a deep and peaceful sleep.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Sir."

Somewhere between dawn and twilight on Sunday, we soaked our bodies in a bubbling jacuzzi that washed away the filth. The searing water and fragrant soap was scented with gardenia that dissolved traces of the nights'

experiments. We were clean and fragrant now. Our skin, silky to the touch.

He led me through a doorway and down the hall to another bedroom, clean and fresh. A table by the bed hid a refrigerator filled with luscious roast chicken and cold champagne.

We feasted. We chattered. We laughed. Neither of us mentioned the night, dark with hidden secrets. The past was gone now. Only the future remained.

Licentious evils had been washed away and we began the dance of love, innocent as children. Sweet and tender. It began with gentle kisses and led us into a paradise that neither of us knew existed.

Nor would ever leave.


Joe Wilson

[email protected]


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