SOUTHERN SUBMISSIVE (AUTHORITARIAN, HUMIL: T/T, M/T) BY: MOORE
Part 5
Chapter IX
Never before, rarely since, have I been so dominated, so controlled by a cock. Granted, my earlier experience was limited to Tim and the nine other guys on the crew. Tim sometimes let me take a little time to enjoy his cock, but giving head to the crew was assembly line cock sucking...like working in a busy bathroom glory hole or cheap whore house. No time for crotch sniffing or ball licking. No time to coax a little precum to rub on my lips. These were men in a hurry to ram their hard dicks deep into my mouth and throat, to bust a nut and unload wads of spunk into my faggot mouth.
The second best cock I ever serviced on a regular basis belonged to a man I met, and lived with for a time, while working in the film industry. He was an actor, a very big star who appeared in mostly straight porn, and I was a production assistant on several of his movies. But he was a man, a professional with years of experience. Oliver was a boy, barely into his teens. How much experience could such a young boy have had. For all I'll knew, I was the first fag, the first mouth, the first cocksucker to be used by his dick.
I had Oliver's cock, my master's cock, in my mouth, but just the smooth spongy head resting on my tongue. I waited impatiently, eager for a taste of precum and hoping that he had a big load of sperm for me to suck out of his balls. I expected that soon he would get hard and start pumping and thrusting his prick wildly in and out of my mouth, like Tim and all the guys did when I gave them head.
Oliver was holding me back on a short leash. I couldn't move my head forward to get more of his dick into my cock starved mouth and, to my amazement, he wasn't getting an erection. He seemed content to stand over me, drink in hand like at a cocktail party, with the head of his cock on my tongue. It was sort of like a party...a party in my mouth. The guest of honor was present, but he didn't want to cum.
To help matters along, I moved my tongue around the head of his dick and started to suck. I reached around to put my hands on Oliver's smooth ass to pull him closer, get more of my master's dick in my sucking slave boy mouth. A sharp yank on my leash and Oliver's "NO!" made me freeze and look up. His dick slipped out of my mouth.
"No hands," he said. "No hands and keep still. I'll tell when to suck, slave."
Not fag or faggot or boy or cocksucker, just slave. And the way he said it, dragging the word out and the tone in his voice, made me shudder. Reality hit me like a slap in the face. Slave, like he owned me, owned IT. I wasn't a Me or an I anymore, certainly not a boy, not an animal, not even a faggot cocksucker. I was less than that. Oliver had reduced me to an IT, a THING, a common possession. A THING to use; like a bicycle or a car, a THING to wear; like a shirt or a pair of socks. The way he said slave made it clear. Oliver was my master. He owned me alright, and he would use me as a THING, an IT, an inanimate object, without feelings or emotions to be considered.
I kept still as once again Oliver slid just the head of his cock between my lips and into my mouth. I felt like he was using my mouth, putting me on, like a well worn jock strap to support his hanging dick. Oliver arranged himself comfortably in my mouth and on my tongue, put his hands on his hips, and, and, and....started to piss. From jock strap to toilet bowl, from one thing to another thing, in an instant, without warning or care if I wanted my mouth to serve as his toilet and take his piss. Didn't matter what I wanted or didn't want. Oliver owned it, the thing called mouth, and he could use it any way he wanted.
Tim and the crew had pissed in my mouth, mostly recycled beer, so the experience wasn't new. Oliver's piss was different, not as bitter tasting, almost sweet. I drank it all, swallowed every drop of his piss. When his flow stopped I had a moment to consider my relationship with Oliver; while his dick rested in my mouth.
Fag or slave, cocksucker or doormat, human or animal. Maybe I should end it right now. Spit out his cock, get up off my knees, take off the dog collar around my neck and chase Oliver away. I could if I wanted to. I was Jefferson Davis Winslow and my father owned this place. What good is it anyway, having a cock in your mouth and not be allowed to suck on it or even move your tongue around the head. I couldn't suck, jerk off even, without permission. Was he going to tell me when to eat and shit, sleep and wake up too? My mind was made up....., almost.
I could find other cocks to suck, other boys who'd like a blow job. There were lots of boys in gym class with nice bodies, who maybe wouldn't blab it all over school that I was a faggot cocksucker. I wasn't ready for that. Victor Grosscup. He already knew I was kind of strange from when he caught me smelling dirty jock straps in the locker room and he never told. I could talk to him on Monday, when he's alone in the photo lab.
Kneeling naked on the patio with his piss in my belly, my leash in his hand and his dick in my mouth, I almost had myself convinced that I didn't need Oliver. I didn't need to be his personal slave boy and, and, and......, and then he got hard.
The crazy thoughts filling up my mind were chased away, replaced, by the wonderful cock filling up my mouth. I closed my eyes as Oliver's thickening dick slid between my stretched lips and across my flattened tongue. I was afraid to suck or swallow or bob my head without his permission and I kept my hands clasped behind my back so as not to touch him. Oliver didn't thrust or push. The only movement was the prow of his dick, like a ship, slowly making its way through the saliva filled harbor of my mouth toward a previously undiscovered berth.
On a rainy morning two years earlier, with work halted on the cabana, Tim and the crew had passed the time by experimenting in my mouth to see how much dick, how many inches I could take before gagging. I helped each guy get hard then measured and marked his erection at half inch intervals with a red marker. Tim set me up in the cabana, in front of a newly installed mirror wall so I could watch the experiment, watch my face get fucked. The guys had great fun taking turns in my mouth to see how much dick I could take before choking. It wasn't scientific, but my mouth averaged just over five inches. I maxed out at six inches on the thinnest cock and less than four inches on the fattest.
All the guys wanted blow jobs right after. I was willing, more than willing, but my throat was sore and it hurt when I sucked. In a rare display of kindness to me, his slave, Tim told the crew to jerk off instead and, at my suggestion, aim their cum shots into my open mouth. I watched as Tim took the red marker and a black one too, and drew a target on my face with my mouth for the bulls eye. With pen in hand he couldn't resist the urge to mark his property and, to much laughter, he carefully wrote FAG on my forehead.
I got drenched with sperm as their cum shots mostly missed the bulls eye and landed on my face and in my hair. Tim wouldn't allow me to wash, said I looked like a fine fag with cum my face, so I spent the whole day with dried cum all over my face. I cleaned up ok later, after Tim and the crew left, before my daddy came home. Soap and water easily washed away all the cum. I had to scrub to get rid of the marker. Fortunately it was only water resistant and not waterproof or I would have had FAG written on my forehead for a long time. I wasn't always to be so lucky.
Oliver's dick continued to explore the depths of my mouth. My lips were still positioned around the shaft, two, maybe three inches from his pubic hair and the only thing moving was his cock. When the head reached the top of my throat I sputtered and gagged. Oliver laughed. His cock pulsed and twitched, and something popped inside my over stuffed cock filled mouth. It sounded like a water balloon bursting and, and suddenly he was in my throat. I could feel the head of his cock expand and contract and rub against the sides of my throat, pushed along deeper into the narrow passage by the still growing shaft. I had no way of knowing how much cock was already in me, but I knew there was more to go. Through teary eyes I could still see a lot of my master's black shaft, all shiny with my spit, and I wanted it all.
When Oliver took hold of my ears and pulled my head in, I had it all. Every inch of my master's cock was planted in my slave boy mouth. My nose tickled his belly and his pubic hair tickled my lips. I could barely breath. My neck bulged where the head of his cock bulged, deep down inside my throat. My eyes bulged too, in fear, when I realized I couldn't back off his dick. I was stuck, impaled, spitted on my master's cock which was firmly rooted in my throat.
Wild and crazy thoughts raced through my oxygen depleted brain. I was going to spend the rest of my life with a cock permanently fixed in my mouth, a pair of black balls resting on my chin. My daddy would throw me out of the house, ashamed to have a son who was a cocksucker, ashamed to have a son who allowed a black boy to use him this way. I'd be a freak like the bearded lady or the sword swallower at the circus. Victor would take my picture for the high school year book and I'd be wearing a pair of balls instead of a tie.
My head started to shake. Oliver was moving his hips back and forth, thrusting, and I came. At least I think I came. It was unlike any cum that I'd ever had before. It started from deep inside me, not from my cock and balls, but from the stimulation of Oliver's cock wedged in my throat. My orgasm was so intense, so pleasurable, so long lasting that my fear of being stuck on Oliver's dick changed to the fear that he would take it out. I wanted to swallow his cock, balls too if I could manage it. I wanted to keep Oliver, keep my master, inside me forever.
Oliver began to fuck my face. Using my ears like handles, he held my head steady as he slowly pulled his dick out of my throat, I was free, and slowly pushed it back in. In and out of my throat with an easy fucking motion and then I was empty. Oliver's dick popped out of my mouth and for the first time I saw the full size of my master's erection. I lunged forward, eager to refill my mouth and throat, with the biggest cock I had ever seen, but Oliver yanked on my leash, holding me back. All I could do was watch, with my mouth open and my tongue hanging out, as he pulsed and flared the enormous mushroom head.
Precum bubbled freely from the piss slit and hung down to the patio in long strings. Oliver yanked my leash to get my attention, pointed to a small pool of the shiny stuff at his feet and told me to lick it up. Two swipes of my tongue on the dirty flagstone patio and the pool of his sweet tasting body fluid was almost gone. Before I could lap up the last of it, another yank on my leash and another command to roll over sent me to my back, between my master's legs, looking up at my master's balls. Precum was still bubbling and dripping, onto my face now and into my mouth and I came.
The pure taste of Oliver's silky juice dripping into my mouth made me shudder and spurt watery cum on to my belly. I was still cumming, still enjoying my orgasm when Oliver yanked on my leash, hard. A not so gentle reminder that I was a slave and he owned me. A naked slave boy, his personal slave, I existed only to please my master and not to enjoy myself. Scrambling to my hands and knees, I lowered my head to the ground and kissed my master's feet to show my servitude. I would have kissed a horses ass for another taste of his dick.
"Good boy," he said. "You southern white boys train well, make good slaves. Must be in the genes. All those years of owning slaves, you know how to take care of a master. Fags up north train good too and they make good cocksuckers. I wonder if southern fags know how to suck as good as northern fags. How about it, slave boy? You know how to suck?"
I wanted to shout out, "yes I know how to suck," but I didn't want to seem over eager. "Yes master," I said softly and slipped his big toe into my mouth.
Oliver shook his head and said, "Maybe, but black dick is different, bigger than the white dicks you're used to. We piss more and cum more too."
He had to be kidding. I'd taken every inch of his cock in my mouth, in my throat, and swallowed every drop of his piss. No way couldn't I suck as good, better even, than a yankee white boy and take all my master's cum in my mouth. Cum in my mouth, Oliver's cum in my mouth. Just the thought of it made me shiver. I kept silent though, and sucked harder on his toe.
"It's getting late and I'm hungry," Oliver said suddenly.
It was late, the sun was going down. We'd been out here for hours and I was hungry too, but not for food. I was hungry to suck my master's cock, starved for a mouthful of his salty cream.
"Go fetch my shorts, slave boy. Then we'll go in and order a pizza. You do have pizza delivery in this hick town?"
"Yes master," I said as I crawled away to retrieve his shorts.
We walked to my big house under a darkening sky, master in front, holding my leash, naked slave boy trailing a few steps behind. Lottie, our old black housekeeper, was in the kitchen. She's seen me naked hundreds of times so she didn't bat an eye when we came in and I introduced her to Oliver. He took her aside and the two of them talked privately for a moment. Oliver pointed at me, at my erection and the dog collar around my neck. I heard him ask her flat out if she knew I was queer and that I liked boys more than girls. Lottie nodded her head knowingly, smiled at me, giggled like a school girl...., and then she was gone.
Oliver sat at the table, looking around the well appointed kitchen. "Bring me a coke, use a tray, and call the pizza place. I'm hungry."
I poured his drink over ice into a crystal goblet and presented it to my master on a silver tray I'd seen the servants use at cocktail parties. He didn't take it right away. Instead, he took the end of my leash, which was hanging down my back and dragging on the floor, and brought it up tight between my ass cheeks. I gasped in pain, and tried to hide the pleasure, when he wrapped the end of the leash around my cock and balls.
Pleased with his work, Oliver took his drink and shooed me away to order the pizza. My trussed dick throbbed with each step and the leash worked its way deeper into the crack of my ass as I backed away from Oliver. I couldn't help it. My legs began to shake. My breath grew ragged. The pressure in my ass, around my balls....., Oliver's bare black chest and pink nipples. My eyes shut tight. My toes curled on the stone floor. Sweat broke out on my forehead. My body seized up, I could feel an explosive orgasm building and... Oliver poured icy cold coke onto my inflamed cock.
I dropped the tray and fell to my knees in agony as the cold shock killed my orgasm, trapping sperm in my tied up balls. I lost my erection, but my dick was fat and oozing cum onto the silver tray.
"Stupid slave," Oliver said standing over me. "You'll cum when I tell you to cum, not before. Clean up your mess and order the pizza, slave boy. I'm hungry."
I did as ordered...., my cum was thick, chunky, very salty tasting, and called the pizza place. There was one message on the machine so I hit the play button after telling Oliver that the pizza would take an hour. The message was from my daddy.
"Hi Jeff its me, daddy. I guess you're out. Listen,
there's been a change in plans. Met an old college
pal, fraternity brother, Bruce Barclay. You remember
Mr. Barclay? He's in town a few days so I'm staying
til Monday, talk about old times......"
I remembered Mr. Barclay alright. I must have been like ten or eleven cause it was soon after my California cousins came to visit. After I had my first taste of cum.
"..... have a couple of dinners...."
Yeah, I remembered Mr. Barclay. You don't forget your first blow job. He stayed at the house one night, for a college reunion, and he came out of the bathroom into my room, by mistake he said, but he didn't leave, not even when he saw I was naked. He closed the door, sat next to me on my bed and put his arm around my shoulder.
"..... and a few laughs. Hold it a sec Bruce, I'm on the phone. Call me at the hotel when you get this message
Jeff, the number is on my desk. I want to hear....."
He was wearing the tiniest underwear, like a jock strap, but made out of shiny red material. He put his hand in my lap and began to tickle my little balls and stroke my little hardon. When he got on his knees and took me in his mouth I started to shake all over. It felt so good.
"..... all about your day and your plans for the
weekend. You can use the pick-up if you want to show
Oliver the town. The tank is almost empty so stop
at ....."
Bruce's hands were on my thighs and his head was bobbing up and down on my cock like crazy. He sucked me until I came. It was the best orgasm of my life. When Bruce got up from his knees the front of his underwear was all wet and creamy stuff was dripping out.
"...... the filling station and.....I'll be right there
Bruce, give 'em another drink...."
The answering machine was silent for a moment, I thought my daddy had hung up. Then I could hear his voice in the background.
"No, it doesn't matter to me Bruce. Do the blond one
first if that's what you want. The other one looks
bigger to me anyway. We got all weekend, I left my
son a message...., shit, the phone. Sorry Jeff, got
called away. We'll talk later. You be a good boy while
I'm away and you take care of Oliver too. Bye."
"A message from my daddy," I said to Oliver who had a big grin on his face.
"Yeah, I heard. Play it again."
"What?"
"Don't you hear good boy? I said play it again."
I rewound the tape and played it again. Oliver began to laugh so hard that tears came to his eyes. He had me play the first part over and over. 'Met an old college pal, fraternity brother, Bruce Barclay.'
Oliver finally stopped laughing and said, "Got time for a bath before the pizza comes. Lets go slave boy."
I led the way upstairs to my room. Oliver looked around at all my stuff: Color TV, stereo, posters of my favorite male rock stars. He opened my closet, poked around in my dresser, and found all of my secret treasures. The dog eared copy of Boys of Bangkok and a small stash of muscle magazines. The envelope containing pubic hairs I'd painstakingly collected from the urinals at school. A smelly old jock strap, stained and stiff with dried cum, that I'd taken from the trash can at the club and a couple of used condoms.
"You're quite the fag, slave boy, quite the fag. I bet you're real popular at school, in the boys bathroom, taking care of your white friends. Well, you're my faggot now, Jefferson Davis Winslow, my slave boy. Get my bath going."
Oliver would've lost that bet. None of the boys at school knew I was gay. Before today, I hadn't tasted a cock in two years. The only cum I'd tasted was my own. That's what the condoms were for. I got them at the creek last year.
Chapter X
The creek is a popular hang out place for teenage boys. It's not segregated, anybody can go there, but white boys usually stay one side and black boys stay on the other. Old traditions are slow to die in this Mississippi town and people tend to know their proper place in life. My friends and I go to the creek often to swim, smoke cigarettes, drink beer when we can get it and just pass the time. I used to go, but not for the last two years though, not since Tim, not since I became a cocksucker at age 13. I stopped going to the creek in the summer because it's too tempting.
The creek is secluded and a lot of boys swim naked. I get a hardon just thinking about naked boys. Pictures of men posing nearly naked in my muscle magazines make my juices flow. I'm afraid of what I'd do at the creek. I don't trust myself not to stare and then crawl between a friend's legs and beg to suck his dick. And once I start I know I won't be able to stop. I just know I'll strip naked and stay on my knees until I've sucked off everyone.
Then what. After the cocksucking frenzy is over and my friends realize what they've done. What I've done. I know what will happen. My friends will stand around silent at first, afraid to look at me, feeling guilty, afraid to look at each other. Then somebody will laugh because the sun is still shining, the birds are still singing and god hasn't unleashed a bolt of lightning, struck everyone dead for getting a blow job. The nervous tension will break and all my friends will laugh and start talking about me.
'I didn't know Jeff was queer, a fairy boy, a homosexual. Did y'all know he was queer?
Not queer you idiot, gay. Queer is from the fifties. Jeff is gay.
Queer, fairy, gay, whatever. He sure can suck dick.
You kin say that again.
He sure can suck dick.
That's because Jeff's a fag. Girls and fags suck dick. Take a look, y'all can see Jeff's not a girl, soooo, he must be a fag. Ain't that right Jeff?'
All heads will turn to look at me, naked, on my knees, cum all over my face and dripping out of my mouth. They'll see my dick, hard and leaking, and I'll answer the question. I'll admit I'm a fag because I have no choice... and because it's true. Immediately they'll feel better, secure in their maleness. If I'm a fag then what happened is kind of ok, because everybody knows, it's common knowledge at school, girls and fags suck dick. And once I admit it the tone will change, get a bit nasty, as every boy, all my friends, will band together to distance themselves from the fag.
'See, he admits it. I told you guys, Jeff is a fag.
Yeah, a fag. A real live faggot. A faggot cocksucker.
Yeah, a faggot cocksucker. Jeff the fag sucks big dick. Sucks our dicks and lets us cum in his mouth. Lookit, the dick licker's got cum all over his face. How low can you get, taking another guy's cock and slimy sperm in your mouth. And swallowin' the stuff. Don't forget he swallowed our spunk. Yuk, he's got millions and millions of sperm swimin' around in his belly. How can Jeff do that, suck a guys dick and eat a guys cum? That's disgusting.
Nah, not to Jeff, he likes it I tell ya. Jeff likes a big prick in his mouth and when guys cum in his mouth, all fags like it. Right, Jeff? You like suckin' dick and you like it when guys empty their balls, spunk in your mouth and swallowin' the cum too?'
I'll shake my head, but that won't be enough to satisfy them. My friends'll want me to say it out loud. They'll keep pressing until the words that seal my fate and absolve them of the last of their guilt come pouring out of my mouth.
"Yes I like it," I'll cry out. "I like it a lot. I'm queer, a faggot cocksucker and I like being on my knees, naked, with a big hard dick in my cocksucker mouth. I like it when guys shoot off in my mouth, cum in my mouth, feed me their sperm. I like the taste of cum, hot and creamy in my mouth, and swallowing cum into my belly." That's what I'll say because that's what they'll want to hear and because, because.... it's the truth."
'See, guys, we did him a favor letting him blow us and cumming in his mouth. You know what? Since Jeff is our friend we should do him another favor. Whatdya say guys, whose up for doin' Jeff another favor?'
The second round of blow jobs will be different. Like I said, old traditions are slow to die and people tend to know their proper place in life. Mine happens to be on my knees with a cock in my mouth. Now that my proper place has been clearly established my friends will relax and enjoy my cocksucking talents.
There'll be lots of talking and laughing and arguing about who gets to use the cocksucker next. Guys'll be pushing their cocks into my mouth, thrusting, fucking my face. I'll be surrounded by hard cocks. Cocks in my mouth, in my hands, rubbing on my face. Guys'll be jerking off and cumming, spurting hot cum all over me, while waiting for a turn in my cocksucker mouth...., I'll be loving it.
I'll lose track of how many cocks I've sucked, how many loads of sperm I've swallowed, how many times my own dick shoots off. Eventually the guys will be exhausted, spent, and it'll be time to hurry home for supper. We'll make plans to meet again tomorrow, rain or shine, and I know I'll be there. Everybody, all my friends, will agree to keep this a secret. Oh, they'll promise not to tell, but I know, as sure as I know I'm a fag cocksucker, there'll be a few new faces, a few new cocks looking for a blow job at the creek tomorrow...., and the day after too. There'll be a few new cocks at the creek each and every day until school starts.
There will be a lot of whispering, head turning and pointing on the first day of school as boys who have been away for the summer will be let in on the secret. Before the bell rings for first period, every boy, and a few girls, in junior high school will know that Jeff Winslow is gay, a fag, a cocksucker.
I know that I won't get to eat lunch anymore because every day one of my friends will take my hand and walk me out of the cafeteria. The whole place will know where I'm going and what I'm going to do. Boys, a few girls too, will be laughing at me. My friend will lead me to the boy's bathroom where more of my friends will be waiting. I'll be stripped naked, seated on the toilet in a stall and I'll be sucking cock and eating sperm for the entire lunch hour. Guys'll be lined up to use my faggot mouth. I'll be put on my knees to suck a few more cocks in the locker room when we change for gym and I'll suck a few more wet dicks in the shower after class.
During recess one of my athlete friends will tell me the good news. I'll be calling home to tell Lottie that I've been named co-manager for all the sports teams which means I'll be staying after school every day and I'll be taking the late bus home. My work as co- manager will be performed naked of course and from my knees. In season, I'll be servicing the track, football and basketball teams. Even the nerds who play chess will form a team and name me as their manager. You'll easily recognize me in the team photos. Not the ones printed in the yearbook, but the private ones taken with each player. I'll be the naked guy on his knees with a hard dick stuck up against his belly and a hard dick stuck in his mouth.
In a switch, I'll be sitting in the back of the school bus, where there's more room, so I can give all my friends head to and from school. My good buddies'll make a deal with the bus driver. His silence in exchange for a daily blow job. I'll suck him off alright, my first black cock, but he won't be quiet about it. He'll tell the other drivers about the cocksucking kid on his bus and before long I'll be sucking all the black bus drivers.
The word will spread to the high school and I'll be going out weekends with older guys. Horny guys with girlfriends, nice girls, who won't put out. I'll be sucking high school dick in the back seat of cars and in old pickup trucks. I'll be sucking dick at parties, out in the open, guys and a few fast girls, drunk on beer, cheering me on. Ten, twenty, thirty cocks will party all night in my mouth!
My school work will suffer and I'll start high school not knowing much math, history and science...except the science of cocksucking. I won't have time to go to classes, but it won't matter. I'll graduate high school with straight A's, which I'll earn from my knees giving head to all my teachers. I'll go to college, but flunk out after one semester because I can't do the work and because I have women professors.
Daddy will be angry, disappointed, but he'll use his business contacts to get me a middle management job in a large Memphis based company. I'll promise myself to work hard, change my ways, but it won't happen. Within a month I'll be working hard alright, from my knees, in the middle of my supervisor's office floor and in the middle stall of the office men's room. The only change is now I'm sucking management cock.
I'll get fired when I'm caught in the middle of the loading dock, in the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of a big circle of workmen. The only thing being loaded is me, my mouth that is. Loaded with cock and special deliveries of cum. So much for my middle management job.
I'm not qualified to do much, except give great head, so I'll be forced to take a string of menial jobs to support myself. The job at the supermarket lasts a week, until I get caught checking out cute guys and bagging their dicks in the parking lot. Seven-Eleven doesn't stand for the minimum and maximum number of late night blow jobs per hour. The store manager will show me the door, after he shows me his cock for a quickie. I won't get fired from the gas station, even though I'm pumping trucker dick and filling up my fuel tank with semen while I'm pumping diesel into his fuel tank, because I'll quit and leave town with two long-haul truckers.
Life on the open road, driving cross-country, won't be as much fun as I thought when I agreed to go with them. I won't get to see any purple mountains and waves of grain, rather, purple cock heads and waves of course pubic hair, because they'll keep me locked up in the sleeper. One trucker will be up front, driving the big rig, steering the forty footer into the wide open space of America. The other trucker will be in back with me, driving his big rig, steering his ten incher into the wide open space of my mouth and throat, and into the narrow space of my ass.
Yeah, I'll get fucked. I know it will happen. On the open highway, driving along the great divide, one of my trucker buddies will divide my ass cheeks and drive his dick into my newly opened chocolate highway. Every five hours or so they'll switch off and I'll have a fresh, but sweaty cock pissing in my mouth and exploring the highways and byways of my body. Most nights I'll sleep with a cock in my mouth or in my ass.
Once a week or so we'll stop at a trucker motel. I won't even bother to put on what little clothes I own before I climb out of the cab. The sun will feel good on my naked body and it'll feel good to stretch my legs after being cramped up in the sleeper. Trucker motels will be more like college dorms, small rooms and one large bathroom. I'll wash away the accumulation of dried cum and piss in the communal shower room and bend over to be fucked by my two truckers buddies, and by any other trucker who happens by and feels like fucking me too.
After dinner in the cafeteria the guys'll mingle outside in the parking lot to drink beer, gab and show off their rigs and other toys. There'll be other boys like me, young and docile, standing beside some of the truckers. Friendly arguments will break out about sports, travel routes, who makes the best rig, Kenilworth or Peterbuilt, money. As the evening wears on and the beer takes effect the talk will invariably turn to sex. Sex at home with their wives and girlfriends and sex on the road with their boytoys.
Yup, boytoys, that's what we're called by big, burly, macho long- haul truckers. Boys like me, fags really, who travel around the country servicing men who consider themselves to be straight. Every trucker would like to own one of us, it's a status symbol, but only when he's on the road.
I'll learn not to blush when my trucker buddies show me off and boast about my cocksucking abilities and what a great fuck my tight asshole provides. There'll be nods of agreement from the men who fucked me in the shower earlier. I'll get used to being stripped naked for inspection by eager lusty eyes and calloused hands, and waiting politely while several other truckers proudly show of their own boytoys.
We'll be herded together, me and the other boytoys, an old mattress or two will magically appear, and we'll put on a show for the crowd. I'll be hugging and kissing other naked boys, sucking and getting sucked, fucking and getting fucked, for the enjoyment of an audience. When I'm totally spent, sweaty and covered with cum, my trucker buddies will haul me off to our room and lay me out on the bed.
Trucker motel rooms will have hooks and pulleys so that my legs and knees can be fixed in position, spread really wide, my hands can be tied up out of the way and my head can be secured hanging over the edge of the mattress. I'll learn not to close my eyes in fear, but to relax and even look forward to it, as a long line of naked men forms up to wait for a turn at my nicely exposed asshole and mouth.
I'll learn to appreciate the earlier foreplay with the other boytoys, which opened and lubricated my fuckholes with cum, in preparation for the onslaught to follow. The first man to mount me and sink his cock into my upturned ass is first to use my mouth too. Trucker's rules I guess. First you fuck me and fill my bowels with spunk, then you move around the bed to get sucked clean in my mouth. My mouth is yours to use however you want until the next man cums in my ass. You can hang around and jerk off onto my face, but you've got to free up my mouth for the next cock.
Hour after hour, until dawn if it's a big group or guys go around for seconds, I'll have a hard cock pounding away in my cum filled ass and a cock getting cleaned or sucked in my mouth at all times. My trucker buddies will collect a lot of money. Yup, they'll be whoring me out, charging ten bucks to use my holes. I'll learn what it's like to be a boy-for-hire, a boy prostitute.
I'll also learn that I can't trust the men who befriend me, like my trucker buddies. I just know I'll wake up one morning, alone, naked, tied to a bed in a trucker motel. The foul taste in my mouth; cum, piss, shit, ass juices, and the ooze dripping out of my ass, will remind me of last night's activities. No clothes, no friends, no money to pay the bill. The motel manager will fuck me a couple of times, I'll be forced to suck his cock, and then he'll call the police. The arresting officers will fuck me too, I'll suck their dicks, and then, naked as the day I was born, they'll haul me in front of a judge.
Ninety dollars for the motel bill or ninety days in jail. That'll be my sentence. I don't have ninety dollars or nine cents or pockets. I'll beg the judge to show me mercy, but the only thing he'll show me is the couch in his chambers and the hard cock under his robes. Two fuckings and a blow job later I'll be carted off, naked, to the county jail to serve my sentence.
Late at night, after the guards and my latest cellmates have finished using my cocksucker mouth and pussy boy ass, I'll lay in my bunk and think about long ago summer days at the creek.
So that's why I stopped going to the creek during the summer, after Tim, after I became a slave boy cocksucker at age 13, because I knew what would happen.