The Irish Busker in London

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

This story is a work of fiction. It is a gay bondage fantasy, no part of which is based on real life. Any resemblance therefore to anyone living or dead is purely accidental. This story depicts male on male sexual practices, if you are offended by this, then stop reading now.

All characters depicted in this story are willing participants in all the scenes they appear in. No one was coerced or paid to appear in this story.

The practices and themes depicted in this story, in no way reflect the author’s beliefs or sexual practices. If you chose to act out scenes from this story, please do it responsibly. Always practice safe sex; you owe it not only to yourself but to your sexual partners. If you think you have injured yourself or think you have contracted a sexual disease, or have any other health concerns. Please consult with a health professional.

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Thanks.

I’m sorry everyone for making you wait so long for something from me, so I dug this one out of the vault and tweaked to being almost good. I hope this holds you all until I can get back into the game.

I’d decided it was time for a holiday. True, I’ve had invites to appear in clubs all over the world, but not having a lot of money, that wasn’t possible. But I’d come into a little bit of money recently, and as I had some distant relatives I could sponge off in the UK, that was what swung the deal. So, off to ‘Merry old England’, it was.

It was summer, well what passes for summer in England, and I was starting the first part of my holiday in London itself, staying with some of my distant relatives that lived there. Anyway, I’d decided to go to see the ‘Transport Museum’ in Covent Garden, and as I turned into the forecourt, I saw him, an Irish busker, who was belting out a show tune wearing nothing but a pair of almost knee-length brown shorts with a wide belt and white runners. He was about 190cm tall with blue eyes and light sandy brown hair. His voice was Ok, I suppose, but ‘fuck', what a bod. The boi looked as though he worked out; he had the nicely rounded shoulders, the beginnings of a defined chest, but because of the weight the boi was carrying, I couldn’t see if he had a six-pack or any kind of a pack going on. And I could kinda tell his thighs were kinda defined, but it was a bit hard to tell with the excess weight he was carrying, not that the females, and probably some of the males in the small group of people that were standing around listening seemed to mind too much. He had a nice face, blue eyes, and a killer smile, but I think they were more interested in the guy’s ‘basket’, which pushed the front of his shorts out nicely. Add that to the guy’s bubble butt, which wasn’t as large as I’d like, but it was ok, and he was something nice to look at. While he was singing some show tune to this woman, he’d plucked out of the people standing around and was getting her to dramatise the song with him; I leaned back against the brick wall, in the sun, and enjoyed the view.

While I was watching him, he glanced up in my direction, and it appeared to me as though he was checking me out. I was on holiday, and while I didn’t want to scandalise my English relatives too much, I still left the house this morning decked out in my leathers. Black leather pants, a black leather vest over the top of a very skin-tight black t-shirt, with my black leather vest over the top, undone, naturally. When you have worked as hard on your body as I have, then fuck me, you should want to show it off, and to top it all off was my peaked black leather cap, with the point of the peak seemingly pushing my eyebrows down in almost a permanent sneer. The Busker turned his attention back to the woman he was singing to, but I was sure I saw his eyes flicker back to me every once in a while. He finished the song, and he thanked the woman and got the people to show her their appreciation, and she, turning red, went back to her friend. While the Busker started on another show tune, I was beginning to get the impression that he was glancing up at me quite a lot. So, being the ‘Master’ that I am, I decided to test the theory, so I looked very meaningfully at him. So much so that when he glanced in my direction, we made eye contact, and he held it. I lifted my chin in his direction as I changed my look into a glare. When he didn’t break eye contact, I said, “come here bitch,” and after a moment’s hesitation, he stopped singing and put his microphone down on his speaker but continued to remain rooted to the spot.

“I said, ‘come here, bitch'. Don’t you dare make me come over there and fuckin’ get you,” I growled. He took a tentative step in my direction, “crawl on your fuckin’ hands and knees, like the bitch that you are,” I snapped at him. Instantly he dropped to the cobblestones on all fours and slowly made his way towards me. “Drop your back. You worthless piece of shit,” instantly he dropped his back which made his bubble butt stand out that much more. “That’s better, bitch; I like seeing you stick your arse up in the air for all these people to see. Stop eyeballing me, boi,” instantly, he dropped his gaze down to the cobblestones. “That’s better,” I continue to growl, “now you can get a good look at my black leather knee-high boots,” the ones with red laces that I love to wear, “take a good look at my boots, boi, ‘cause I know you’re dying to lick ‘em. So, get to it bitch.”

Instantly, he scurried over the last bit of distance between us, and when he was close enough, he flashes me a furtive look. “I fuckin’ thought I told you not to eyeball me, bitch,” I said as I leaned down and slapped him across the face hard enough to make his teeth rattle. “Now, get to and lick my fuckin’ boots clean, boi,” and with that, he stuck his tongue out and set to licking my boots with a passion. “That’s right, boi,” I growl, “you just lick all the dust and muck off my boots. I wanna be able to see my face in them.” I watched his head bobbing up and down while he licked my boots like a boi possessed, with his bubble butt pointing at the sky, and had he been naked, he’d have been showing off the inside of his cleft beautifully. While he was licking the raised heel of my left boot, I decided to show my appreciation for him, showing the growing crowd his bubble butt. I brought my feet together, effectively trapping his head between my boots, with his nose almost touching the cobblestones. I reach forward and grabbed the seat of his shorts, and pull his arse higher into the air; he had to shuffle his legs back a bit to give his arse maximum height. When his arse was as high as he could get it, I reached forward and rubbed my hands over his arse appreciatively. Then, without any warning, I raised my right hand and brought it down hard on his left arse cheek with an open palm. The resounding ‘crack’ almost reverberated off the brick walls surrounding us as it drew a baited ‘ooh’ from the crowd. I follow the first hit very closely with my left hand hitting his right butt cheek, again with an open hand. I continue to spank each butt cheek until I have given them ten swats each, with the bitch yelling and screaming with each swat, that was until I applied enough pressure on his head to make the bitch shut the fuck up.

When I’d delivered the final swat, I ran my hands over his arse proprietorially. Starting at his lower back, I ran my hands, one on each cheek with my thumbs running either side of his shorts arse seam, all the way to the tops of his thighs and back again. I continued to rub his arse while I watched him get his breathing under control, and when I saw his upper body stop heaving quite so much and becoming more regular. Without any warning, I lifted my right hand and brought it down as hard as I could, right in the middle of his left arse cheek. Even though he was wearing his shorts, there was still that very audible ‘crack’, so much so that I was sure I saw some of the people in the growing crowd jump. When my hand made contact with the bitch’s arse, he let out a scream. That was until I smacked his other butt cheek and applied yet more pressure on his head; that certainly reminded the boi to shut the fuck up.

Again, I hit each butt cheek ten times in quick succession, then once again, I rubbed my hands over his arse for a bit. I straightened up and removed my backpack. I reached into my pocket and retrieved my penknife; it was finally time to let the bitch’s arse cool down a bit. Grabbing the right-hand side of the centre seam of the boi’s shorts, I pulled the material of the boi’s shorts taut, effectively pulling the arse seam of his shorts out of the cleft of the boi’s arse. When the material was as taut as I could get it, I ran my penknife down the left-hand side of the shorts centre seam, effectively separating the seam from the left side of the seat of his shorts. I grabbed hold of the severed seam and ran my penknife down the right-hand side of the seam, so now the severed seam lay loosely along the boi’s crack. I returned my penknife back to my pocket and then, grabbing the two loose pieces of cloth on either side of the centre seam, I ripped them apart, exposing his arse encased in their tighty-whities to the growing crowd. Now the rapt members of the crowd could clearly see the bitch’s softly glowing arse cheeks. I rubbed my hands over the twin globes of the boi’s bubble butt, my left hand on his right-hand arse cheek, and my right hand on his left-hand arse cheek, while I admired his dimple zones where the stretched leg elastic of its tighty-whites didn’t make contact with the boi’s creamy flesh. I pushed my right hand just off the bottom of the boi’s left-hand arse cheek. I raised my hand, and much to the delight of our ever-increasing crowd, I brought it down hard on the boi’s left cheek. Accompanied by a resounding ‘crack’ that seemed to reverberate off the brick buildings surrounding us, this time followed in quick succession of my left hand on his right arse cheek, giving off another resounding ‘crack’. I gave each cheek another ten hits per arse cheek to the loud resounding approval of the crowd.

Now, the boi’s arse was turning a lovely shade of red and was now giving off a surprising amount of heat, and there was more than one woman in the crowd who’d have loved to warm their hands on them. As well as a lot of the men in the crowd who’d give anything to be able to do the same, I’d wager. I did notice that more than one male member of the crowd that I could see had to adjust themselves to accommodate their thickening cocks, even though they were trying to do it surreptitiously. I’m too much the showman, not to notice even the smallest brush of a guy’s hand against his thickening cock; I’ve given too many of these demonstrations in the clubs in Melbourne to know precisely what I was looking at.

While I’m used to spanking those bois, who deserve it all the time, the palms of my hands were getting pretty red themselves, so the boi might work out some after all. I bent down further and reached under the boi and fumbled with the buckle of his very wide belt. I pulled the tip of the belt back through the loops of his shorts and freed it from the belt loop. I fumbled with the buckle until I managed to pull the hole in the belt free from the tongue of the buckle and pulled the tip of the belt through the buckle as well. Seeing as I was in the region anyway, I reached down and felt the boi’s own thickening cock. Satisfyingly the boi even had quite a wet patch going, so obviously, he was enjoying the treatment I was giving his arse, probably more than even I was. Even if the boi was crying and begging for mercy, dumb bitch. ‘I knew what the bitch needed the minute I laid eyes on it,’ I thought to myself, ‘standing there bare-chested belting out its little show tunes.’ I pulled the boi’s belt free from the loops of its quickly disintegrating shorts, and with the boi’s head still held firmly between my booted feet. I straightened up as I folded his thick, wide belt into quarters; I was pleased, surprisingly, as I smelt the aroma of genuine leather that the belt was made from, not some synthetic crap. When I pulled the belt free from the loops of the boi’s shorts, there was more than one gasp from the crowd, and there was more than one slack-jawed male in the audience enjoying the show.

I straightened up to my full height, and raising my right hand over my head, I brought the belt down, full-force, onto the boi’s left arse cheek and was rewarded with a yell from the boi. I continued to rain blows, with the bois’ belt down on his tighty-whitey covered arse cheeks. Again, giving him ten swats apiece per arse cheek, and now the boi’s arse was positively glowing a satisfying deep red colour. While the crowd was very encouraging, I looked up to see a lot of the males in the crowd, that was slowly turning into an audience, by the way, stroking their thickening cocks through the material of their pants. As well as more than one females rubbing themselves, all with naked lust written over their faces. I smirked at my audience as I pulled my trusty penknife out of my pocket again. I reached down and grabbed a handful of material of the boi’s tighty-whites and was rewarded when the boi jumped when I touched his burning arse. I lifted the material as high as I could and cut a small hole in it with my knife. I returned my penknife to my pocket. I worked the fingers of both hands into the new opening and ripped the boi’s tighty-whites in two. This time I was rewarded by just a glimpse of his bright pink tight rosebud of an anus, as the boi was still holding his arse high in the air before the arse seam of his shorts fell back into his cleft and covered his hole back up again. Now the boi’s glowing red arse was exposed to all and sundry while his shorts and tighty-whiteys hung in tatters off his hips.

Now that everyone could see the dark red colour of the boi’s flaming arse cheeks, being a bit of a tease, I allowed the thin edge of the belt to run down the cleft of the boi’s bubble butt. Pushing aside the loose back seam of its ripped shorts with the weight of the belt. When I could hear the boi beginning to moan, and I mean the real low and deep moans of pleasure from feeling the leather belt running over its bright pink rosebud of a hole, I stopped. Folding the belt into quarters again along its length and brought the belt down as hard as I could on his now bare-naked arse, again, dealing out ten swats a piece until the boi was screaming and crying again. Now his arse was beginning to turn a lovely shade of purple.

This time when I looked up, more than one male in the audience had their hands in their pants, shamelessly stroking their cocks; I almost had to laugh watching all those suits with their hand in their pants openly stroking their thickening cocks. I was pleased to see one or two guys with their hands in each other’s pants as well, helping their ‘neighbours’ out.

I reached down and, moving my hand under the boi’s chin, I stuck one finger into his mouth, and he suckled on it hungrily. When I considered my finger to be wet enough, I pulled it out and, holding the back seam aside, exposing his bright pink rosebud of a hole to an extremely appreciative audience. I circled his anus lips with my very wet finger until I noticed his hole open slightly, and once again, he began to moan. At that precise moment, I plunged my finger, the full length, into his aching hole. Then to the oohs and aahs of our audience, I began to finger the boi’s arse. Rubbing his prostrate occasionally in the process causing the boi’s cock to jump wildly, not that anyone could see it. Well, not yet anyways.

I pulled my finger out of the boi’s arse and rubbed the bits of shit off on the boi’s hair. I reached under the boi and found his rock-hard paps, and grabbing hold of them, I twisted and pulled them cruelly until the boi began to squirm, which caused him to wave his nearly naked arse in the air.

By now, the audience was almost baying for blood; I held them all in the palm of my hand, ah, the sense of power. I could have done anything to the boi that I wanted to, and they’d have loved me for it; I ended up doing a hell of a lot more to the boi before I was finished. Once again, I pulled out my penknife and grabbed the waistband at the back of what was left of his shorts and cut it half in one fell swoop. And the boi’s shorts fell away from his now almost completely naked body. The back seam of the boi’s shorts snagged on his left arse cheek, but I brushed it away contemptuously, exposing the boi’s bright pink rosebud of a hole to an extremely pleased audience, which went apeshit at the sight of it. I felt more than saw the audience surge forwards that little bit in eager anticipation of what they might be allowed to do.

I pushed what was left of the boi’s shorts and tighty-whites down his very taught thighs and finally allowing the boi’s balls, in their sack, to swing freely in the summer breeze. Although with the press of the crowd, it was becoming increasingly difficult to feel said breeze, particularly as everyone was jostling each other for a glimpse of the boi’s low swingers. His ball bag hung down from just in front of his perineum in a thick, narrow column with long deep folds down the entire length of his ball bag. Until the boi’s ball bag opened out and around his huge egg size nuts, if I’d wanted to, I could have made a small fortune just by pimping the boi out to the members of the audience that were there right; then, but where’s the fun in that? Reaching down, I pushed his nuts around for a bit, until suddenly I grabbed the upper part of the boi’s ball bag and slid my hand down until the skin was stretched taut over his nuts; I pulled them back until the audience to see the base of the bois’ ball sack as it slowly turned from dark red to purple. With my free hand, I began to hit the boi’s nuts with increasing force until, once again, the boi was crying out in pain. Not that anyone in the audience wanted me to stop. Now when I looked up at my very appreciative audience, I noticed that more than one guy had his cock out of his pants and was openly stroking their blood engorged members. Who could have believed the British were capable of such a public display of lust?

When the taut skin of the boi’s ball bag had turned a deep purple, much to my audience’s disgust, I let his ball sack go to swing freely once again. For those in the audience who stood directly behind the boi, particularly those in the front row, they could see how his cock hung a bit lower than his low hanging swingers. And it was very evident to them that the boi was uncircumcised as they could see the end of his foreskin hanging off the end of his cock, what they didn’t know, nor did the boi for that matter. Was that I had big plans for the boi’s cock, but we’ll get to that. With the belt folded into quarters again, I hit the inside of his knees, and obligingly the boi opened his knees wider, which made him drop his arse a bit, but you can’t have it all. Or can you?? I straightened up and again took to the boi’s arse with a passion, totally ignoring the cries from the boi. The wolf whistles and catcalls of encouragement from the audience drove me to probably use a bit more force than I planned. Not that I broke the skin on the poor boi’s arse, mind you, not that anyone but the boi would have cared, but his arse was becoming very bruised indeed. And occasionally, I missed the boi’s arse altogether and accidentally got his nuts, or was that on purpose???

When I finished rubbing his arse, and as I was growing tired of my little game, I reached down and encircled the boi’s cock with my hand and slowly began to stroke it. Very lightly at first, I didn’t even apply enough force to move the skin of the boi’s cock, but slowly bit by bit, I increased the tightness of my grip on his cock. So, by the time the boi’s cock had grown to full mast and I had tightened my grip, the two things happened almost simultaneously. The first thing was when I moved my hand up his cock towards its base; I was pulling the foreskin back from the head of its cock, exposing its glistening glans to the audience. The second was that the audience had fallen deathly quiet as they all watched in rapt attention as I continued to very slowly rub my hand up and down the entire length of the boi’s cock. At first, he was moaning with pleasure, not those prissy little ‘uh uh’ sounds that some people make; no, these were the genuine deep moans of pleasure. The kind that I could feel vibrating through my boots, and I almost fantasised that I could see the poor lads’ butt vibrating. And still, I continued to slow stroke his cock until he was begging me to go faster, the boi even tried to hump my hand, but I slapped his arse good and proper as I was having none of that. I knew it was getting too much for the boi, fuck it was almost getting too much for some of my audience members, as the unmistakable starchy smell of cum began to fill the air. But still, I continued to slow stroke the boi’s cock, and as I could feel the boi getting close to cumming, I would pull back on the pressure a bit until my hand was barely touching his cock. Or I’d increase the pressure a bit but slow down, anything I could think of to delay the boi’s release. Until the inevitable happened, and the boi shot his load all over the cobblestones, to thunderous applause from the crowd.

And still, I continued to slowly stroke the boi’s cock until he’d started to squirm and wriggle his arse around in the air most invitingly, then very pitifully, the boi began to beg for me not to touch his cock anymore. But naturally, I ignored its entreaties to stop and continued to slow stroke the poor lad’s cock until he’d dissolved into tears with the pain he could feel in his cock. Until once again, the poor boi’s cock spewed another load of hot sticky cum all over the cobblestones, true it wasn’t quite as much as the first time, but it was still an impressive show. Well, at least my audience thought so, and they went apeshit yet again when I’d got him to cum for a second time. But still, I wasn’t finished, but this time, because my hand was beginning to ache, I stroked the boi’s cock faster, but even with the faster pace. It still took quite a while to get the wee lad to shoot a third load of pungent cum all over the cobblestone, and this time his load was noticeable smaller to everyone crowding around us.

Now, it was my turn. I grabbed the boi by the hair at the back of his head. I scooped up the boi’s belt from off the cobblestones where I had dropped it and inserted the tip of the belt into his mouth and had the boi suck on it for a bit. When I eventually pulled the belt out of the boi’s mouth, and the tip was all covered with saliva, some mucus, and whatever other shit the boi produced in his mouth. I pushed the boi’s head down to the ground again while I rolled the tip of the belt, and when I got it as tight as I could, I ran it around the lips of the boi’s rosebud of an anus until I saw it open slightly. At that moment, I forced the rolled tip of the belt into the boi’s arse while the boi screamed blue bloody murder, which kind of indicated to me that the boi could have truly been a virgin after all. Not that I cared.

Again, I reached down and grabbed the boi by the hair on the back of his head and pulled him up until he was kneeling upright in front of me. Now I was going to get my reward. I pulled down the zip of the fly of my jeans and noted the horrified look on the boi’s face. I fished my cock out and held the boi’s nose close until he had to open his mouth to breathe, and I took that opportunity to force my whole cock deep into his mouth. I growled to the boi to watch his teeth, or it’d be a hell of a lot worse for him. As my cock began to thicken inside the boi’s mouth, I slowly slid my cock in and out of the boi’s mouth until my cock had thickened to its full size. I grabbed the boi by his ears, and ignoring the choking sounds he was making, and began to slowly face fuck him. I started slowly pulling my whole cock almost out of his mouth until there was just the head of my cock on the boi’s tongue, then I would plunge my cock back into his mouth. Forcing my cock down the back of his throat, listening to the music of the gagging sounds. I leaned down and whispered into his ear that if he threw up on me, he would regret it. I increased the tempo until I was pistoning my cock in and out of the boi’s mouth until I couldn’t hold it any longer, and I shoved my cock down the back of the boi’s throat. I shot my load of hot sticky cum down the boi’s bruised and battered throat and almost collapsed on top of him.

When I’d recovered sufficiently, I pulled my softening cock out of the boi’s throat, and with the head of my cock in his mouth, I growled at the boi to clean it all up. And fuck me if I hadn’t turned him into such a good cock sucker that he actually managed to suck my cock back into life. And not being one to let a good thing go to waste, I started to rape his mouth and throat again. Until I shot my second load of cum down his throat. I pulled out and told the boi to clean my cock up again. This time when he’d finished, I pulled my cock out of his mouth altogether and stuffed it back into my pants and did up my fly. Now I let the boi stand up on wobbly legs. I pulled my penknife out of my pocket and cut the last remnants of his shorts away from around his legs. I turned the boi around to face our very appreciative audience, and giving him a final smack on his naked arse; I sent the boi on his way. The poor boi would have been raped by the crowd that now had its blood up, but I yelled at them to leave the boi alone. The poor boi still had to push himself bodily through the crowd, though, and more than one of the crowd members took the chance to have a fucken good feel. So much so that I would not have been surprised if the poor boi hadn’t boned up again.

The sound of the crowds’ applause and wolf whistles and such was almost deafening. Until I suddenly woke up out of my daydream to realise that the Busker had finished his song and the few people that were there were applauding. I shook myself awake properly, pushed myself off the wall I was leaning against and headed towards the ‘Transport Museum’. As I passed the Busker, I dropped a few coins in his hat, not that the singing was that great but fuck what a daydream. As I made my way past the Busker, I ‘accidentally slipped on the cobblestones and fell against him. As I pushed myself off the Busker, I felt the firmness of his bubble butt and thought he might be working out after all.