Alistair McCartney

Porn Miniature:

THE IDEAL

Is a teenage suicide bomber, 18, and short, like 5 foot 3, so short the other boys all make fun of him. But he's well built, surprisingly muscular. Extremely fervent and totally passive. He has a black fade and full lips that live for cum and these dark, liquidy eyes, like octopus ink, that open really wide as you fuck him. Long lashes. Totally smooth, his ass is amazing, plump, exuberant, disproportionately large in relation to his slender waist. It's the kind of ass that makes you want to commit suicide.
----Alone in his bedroom, the boy stands in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but his explosive belt and his black dynamite vest. His ass looks great, but he's completely unconscious of this. Totally oblivious, even as he spreads his cheeks, and gazes at his pink hole, which is like one of those nonpareil candies, and, wetting a finger, fingers himself. If he were aware of his power, he'd see there's really no need to go blow himself up. Mesmerized, the West would stare so long into his ass, we would eventually disappear.
----But the boy is going to explode amongst us. In the meantime, for him, getting fucked with luminous spit is better than being a footballer, better than martyrdom, better than anything.
----

akechikogorou

Walter (West Berlin, 1987 ? I think he’s dead)

Walter mastered the gas and the brake with his hand while his mouth never stopped making dirty jokes about ‘you fags.’ Carla laughed passionately as if she was flirting with him. Maybe she was ? her hints on the ‘special friendship’ between her and her ‘favorite cripple’ had sounded all but tame.

Viktor and Bob, on whose lap I tried to steady myself, giggled in growing embarrassment, and Hendrik on the passenger seat, showing no sign of interest whatsoever in any of us, shifted his attention between the street names outside in the dark and the map, mumbling commands for directions every once in a while which caused Walter to wait, wait, and then turn the wheel in the very last second.

‘Gay punks!’ Walter howled. ‘What’s that supposed to be? Pink poodles with riveting collars?’

When Bob asked him, in an attempt to defend themselves, since when he was paraplegic, Carla burst out, ‘Since his last car accident!’

Walter sped up the old limousine approaching a yellow streetlight. ‘A large truck crashed into my left side at full speed. My Ford was as cleanly cut as my spine. The legs had to go later, due to an in-fec-tion (he pronounced it like a Spanish holiday resort), but I was happy to get rid of them as they felt like nothing anyway, and actually hands are much, much better for driving. -- You afraid there, sweethearts?’

The community center was located on the sixth floor of an old factory building. There was no elevator. Viktor and Bob had to carry the chubby Walter who looked quite heavy even without his lower third and who had insulted them all the way to here. Carla sang a Dutch chanson to ‘levitate’ them as she called it. I heaved the wheelchair out of the trunk, locked the car and slowly went after them.

The narrow room that resembled a large corridor was crammed with people ? most of them indeed punks and skinheads, plus a couple of Kreuzberg freaks who combined army coats with glitter skirts and wore plastic crowns in the form of a hammer and sickle or the victory column. Outside it reeked of piss, inside the air was thick with smoke. I found Carla, Walter and the exhausted Russian-American couple surrounded by a bulk of others. Some probably Carla’s acquaintances, whereas the rest seemed interested in our cripple. Walter, leaning back comfortably in his wheelchair, enjoyed the attention. While excited glares ran down his thighs to the point where the jeans had been cut off, its frayed hems exposing some dark crumpled skin, he greeted his new friends in his own fashion,

‘You take it up the ass? Why, doesn’t that hurt? Or do you like it when it hurts? You care to pull out the shit somehow before some manimal shoves his dick into your hole? I mean, maybe it’s better WITH shit, I’m no expert on that, hehe. The social guy who handles me on weekdays has a big bulge in his pants every time he lifts me from the john and sees the steaming heap inside the bowl...’

He ejaculated a bleating giggle and smacked one of the guys, who had dared to rub himself against the edge of his left wheel, on the buttocks with the full force of his well-trained arm. The guy squealed.

‘Well, in case I gotta go take a dump later there won’t be any problem getting some assistance I guess.’

We pushed ourselves in a row where some empty chairs were left, but as soon as the first band started their gig, everybody jumped up anyway and the old furniture was kicked away into the corners. The second band consisted of about a dozen sixteen-year old boys with uniform blond hairdos who wore nothing but Bavarian style leather shorts while they played. Their “folk punk” was terrible, but the audience went wild. Some time later (I had managed to get pretty close to the stage) Carla gripped me by the hips and her lips were suddenly close to my ear,

‘They’re at the toilet. Come on ? you wouldn’t wanna miss that!’

We climbed another flight of stairs to where the toilets were. In front of the entrance a crowed had gathered. The guys we elbowed ourselves through all had their dicks in their hands. They were staring in direction of the only existing cabin, whose door stood wide open.

Walter sat on the front rim of the toilet seat. His short-cuffed jeans had been taken off. The admirer from before pressed it to his face. Next to the toilet another one lay on his back, his head bent far backward, and moved to get his tongue deeper into Walter’s asshole. Walter, babbling on incessantly, grunted and cursed.

‘Hey, the bi-queen gives us the honor to join our little private party,’ he barked as he noticed me. ‘Where’s the Russian fag, and his girl, the American fag? Come closer, take a look, sweetie ? see what the wicked cripple will do...!”

A sincere, concentrated expression entered his face. It looked almost beautiful like that. Walter’s cock (I hadn’t even noticed it before) stood up straight like a pole.

The lad under his ass who realized things were about to happen tried to push himself closer using the heels of his heavy black boots. He slipped on the tiles all wet with piss, and kicked several times into the air. Walter groaned. The other one twisted his foreskin between two fingers and pinched the nails deep into the soft yellow stuff. Maybe to divert himself from the object of his desire.

The circle of observers closed in tight around the cabin door. Someone carefully pulled away the wheelchair, which was in the way. Carla slipped in front of me, scratching her stiff sprayed hair against my cheek, and started to unbutton my fly behind her back.

A suppressed moan filled the room as if the air pressure had suddenly mounted. All of them were ashamed. All could feel quite clearly the humiliation the evil dwarf with no legs meant to their community. All knew that every stroke with their hands bereft them of another piece of dignity, but nonetheless ? or, well, because...

‘Whoah! Man, that’s a relief!’

With the raunchiest sound of the world Walter let escape a gigantic turd from his rectum. The other one was so startled by its length he choked. Coughing and convulsing, he rolled to his side, writhed, hit his head hard against the toilet’s base. For about a second it seemed unclear what anyone in the room was supposed to do. Then things happened quickly.

The guy made an attempt to jerk off, his forehead covered with blood, but a gush of puke forced him to stop. Walter made the tiniest of gestures to make another from the first row of spectators drop onto his knees. He opened his black lips wide, and before Walter had even finished yelling, ‘Don’t touch it, sicko!’ heavy white stuff squirted into the gaping throat of the punk.

I came the very same moment. Carla snuggled against me ? my load went over her pants, right across the lighter bulge in her bottom pocket she then used to rub me until it hurt. The others approached as far as they could and shot fountains over the kneeling one’s pink hair and tattooed shoulders. He didn’t care about them. He fixated with his eyes, with the whole of his face the burning red bulb that kept floating in the air and that he was neither allowed to lick nor to kiss, nor even to touch.

‘If I sense the faintest whiff of your breath, I’ll break your neck,’ said Walter’s voice with great calm.

Down in the other one’s groin something fluid sloshed about in short intervals, like an overflowing bottle a child refills at a tap.
----

mark

‘A Woman’ an excerpt
From The Consumer
By M. Gira

He’s looking down my dress. He can see my breasts. He wants to hurt me, hang me with the noose that’s in his hand. He’s mocking me with it, swinging it in front of my face, showing me that if I go with him he’ll hang me with it after we fuck. I’m not sure if I want him to hurt me. I know that when he pushes his cock into me it will hurt when it hits my uterus. His cock fills me up and makes me another person, subject to his desire, his violence. He’s going to call his friends over and invite them to gang rape me. Then hang me while they masturbate in harmony with my suffering.
----

aaron

So last summer I wrote a porn story for this anthology that came out on Alyson Books called "Hustlers: Erotic Stories of Sex for Hire". The story is about this guy who is obsessed with a porn model named "Shawn." Anyway He finds out that Shaw also escorts and sets up a date with him. This scene takes place before the narrator's meeting with Shawn. He hooks up with some guy from the gym.

The Shawn in the story is based on this one porno guy I'm into named Shane. The story is dedicated to him. I've included Shane's picture along with the excerpt from the story.





The blond guy from the gym is laying face down, spread eagle on my bed. I’ve been rimming him for what seems like hours now. My cock is so hard it’s aching, pre-come dripping. His hole is as pink as his balls and it’s driving me crazy, I just can’t seem to get deep enough in there. He’s moaning, thrusting his ass in my face, wiggling his hips and then I start fingering him. I slide one finger in effortlessly, work it around inside his slick ass, feel its textures, try to find his prostate. Is that? Wait, no. Maybe. Then I work in another finger and then another. I wonder if he’s into fisting. I’ve never done that, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. I pop a fourth finger in. I’m just about to figure out how to get my thumb in him when he starts whining, “fuck me,” in this breathy way that, I suppose could be sexy, but instead comes across as desperate and a little slutty. My fingers make a slight slurping sound as I pull them out of his ass. I yank his hips close to my crotch and spread his cheeks. His asshole his wet and red now, I rub my cock up and down his crack, he goes wild. I push the head of my dick against his pucker and it slides into the warmth of his ass with no effort. Then he freezes, stops moaning, wiggling etc…
----“Dude, are you wearing a condom?”
----“No, shit, sorry, it’s just the tip. Sorry I got carried away.”
----“Okay, just put one on all right? You’re neg right?”
----“Yeah, totally.” I tell him as I go over to the night stand, grab a condom and unroll it over my fading hard-on. Then I lube up and start fucking him. I watch, almost mesmerized as my dick slips in and out of his ass. After I get bored with that, I flip him onto his back so I can watch him jerk himself off. I love watching guys jack themselves while they get fucked, it makes them look so submissive and sad. It’s great. Anytime a guy looks more pathetic in bed, the better the sex is going to be.
----I fuck him for what seems like an eternity. Maybe I loosened him up too much or maybe he’s just a huge bottom whore who’s had his ass torn up too many times, but no matter what position I stick him in I can’t seem to get enough friction to come. He shoots before me, so I pull my cock out of him, take off the condom and masturbate onto his chest.
----After it’s all over we take a shower together, pretend to be sweet to each other, pretend that it was more than it was and then he tells me to call him, like that’s going to happen. Like either one of us really want that.
----Once the trick’s finally gone, I bust into my emergency stash. I have two grams that I’ve been saving for an occasion like this. Basically I feel like shit and it’s either do coke or spend the afternoon crying. At least if I do enough coke I’ll be motivated to clean my bathroom. I don’t think I’d be motivated to do anything if I gave in to this stupid self pity. I have to choke back the tears as I cut lines. Then I snort one and it’s instantly better. Three more days until I meet Shawn, my heart’s all a flutter and it’s not all on account of the coke.
----

winter rates

this is really killing me...

my favorite novel is not on my shelf, my copy is a state away.
it contains my favorite porn scene, one that gave me massive wood on a bus-ride
from Harvard's main campus to their medical campus. (coincidently slothrop attended harvard)

i will be gone before i can track down a copy and copy the phrases...
and won't be back before deadline...

from the index: Blicero with Katje and Gottfried, 94-99, 101-04 (these pages apply to most versions)

illustration #1
illustration #2
illustration #3
----

JW Veldhoen

Barely Legal: An Annotated Lyric Play in One Scene
for DC


Dramatis Personae

Lynx and Lamb, the barely legal Aryan chanteuse duo Prussian Blue
Freestyle boxer and internet gladiator Kimbo Slice
A porn-director named Lorne Green 1

The Setting 2

According to the principles of appropriation and historicization, a Burnaby warehouse, made to appear as a Restoration stage. 3

The scene opens in medias res, with Kimbo bedecked in a banyan, his waistcoat and breeches on the floor, and a cap. Lynx and Lamb each wear a sleeveless bodice 4 and a floss g-string. Lamb bleeds profusely from her nose and mouth, and Lynx has suffered a fierce and savage bout of sodomy, blood and fecal matter smearing her inner thighs. Lorne Green films alone, working cinéma vérité. Both women perform fellatio on Kimbo, who utters the only line of our play 5:

Kimbo: Yeah, suck that dick, bitch.

1. From an abandoned short story by the author entitled "The Mysterious Disappearance of Tracy Trapp, or Death in A Swedish Discotheque".
2. Or scene, since the author has rendered this as a picture, wanting to capture a frozen moment on a stage, not so unlike Jeff Wall's A Ventriloquist at a Birthday party in October. A scene rife with allegorical implications, which, it may be said, are common in image production, especially in the city where the author now lives. See "Mad Tales: Considering Allegorical Tendencies Now" by Jeremy Todd, for a particularly thoughtful examination of this phenomena.
3. Of course, this scene owes too much to too much, and the author must abandon it, having given up on allusion, and since it can only be a pale homage to Robert Coover's Lucky Pierre. Besides, the title "Barely Legal" contrives to point out the difficulties of semblance with regard to living persons (in addition to being a double entendre, a trope with exemplary ties to the Restoration stage) and their representation, which prohibits the staging of this play. An interesting alternative might include a shift to call "Barely Legal" a "lyric essay" (see "Time Must Die: The Lyric Essay and the Fictionalization of Genre by Ben Marcus).
4. Interestingly the sleeveless bodice was never worn, in either France or England in the 18th c. but departures from verisimilitude are oft found in Green's larger oeuvre. The sleeveless bodice was an adaptation of the southern colonies, which might have been more fitting considering the mixed race of the actors, had it occurred to Green, who's productive literary model ought to have been Aphra Behn vs. William Congreve. See The Mythical Bodice, by Ingrid Schaaphok in the Brigade Courier
5. Thus, we know nothing of the characters, or their motivations, or their hearts, as is so common to pornography. A squadron of readers will complain that this is the problem with post-modernism in general, and with footnoted stories in the style of David Foster Wallace. To this criticism the author affords only one response, being that, the only story he can remember is "Funes, the Memorious" by Jorges Luis Borges. The citations, in terms of understanding and recollection, are forgeries, the rest is fiction, with no resemblance to any person living or dead, and merely grotesque.

*
Hyperlinks on JW Veldhoen's blog to the actors, and italics etc.
----

math t

--
When I think of 'porn writing', I don't think of something I've read that got me all hot. I think of something I've done, given up on, and pushed away, nauseated.

If you're pretty cute and comfortable with meaningless sex, you probably do a few porn pics or vids, and/or some whoring/hustling, at some point in your life. Similarly, if you're good with words and comfortable with meaningless sex, you probably write some 'erotic fiction' at some point in your life, for one reason only: It Pays. Since I graduated college, most of my income has come from various ghostwriting and editing projects. Annnnnnnd....

In March 2005, when I was still living in L.A., I was making a last- ditch effort to land a real job and build a real life there. With all the energy I could possibly summon, I was going after a position as an editor at Alyson Books. They're located in a building on Hollywood Bl; I lived just blocks away at the time. After I did three interviews with various people in the parent company [LPI Media, who print The Advocate and Out], I was told they'd narrowed it down to 2 candidates: me and some other girl. The final 'audition' would be that we would each edit an entire book, and write the introduction to said book, under contract. The editing meant about 3 weeks of solid work [true 40+ hour workweeks] and the pay was only $1,000 total [my monthly rent at the time was $860], but I was ok with that because I thought it might land me a Real Job. And really did do the best I could with what I was given.

The book I edited was called Show and Tell: True Tales of Lesbian Lust. Alyson never gave me any copies and I've never even seen the damn thing 'in person'. The editor-pseudonym that Alyson used was Nicole Foster, a personality who 'edits' most of Alyson's lesbian erotica [there is no real Nicole Foster]. All the stories in Show and Tell were written by about 7 or 8 people total. All the stories were absolutely horrible. A disturbingly large number made use of the term 'love button'. My job was [1] to make the stories much, much better and [2] to make them look like they were actually written by like 15-20 people and [3] to write the introduction. PLEASE, if any of you lovely people ever look at this book, keep in mind that I wrote the introduction to ghostwriter- industry- specs. That is NOT my voice. Not even close. Oh yeah and: I don't think any of the stories in the book are 'true tales'. I'm pretty sure that every single story in the anthology was fiction.

The whole experience was frankly terrible and stupid. Literally, it put me off having sex with girls for like 8 months. After reading all that stupid girl-on-girl text and trying to transform it into something actually sexy? I just wanted cock. No love buttons please.

And I didn't get the job. According to the people at Alyson, neither did the other girl. Alyson Books called me one day and said the whole company was being restructured and now there was no job available. That story is plausible enough, but the tone of the phone conversation made me feel like it was all a big, big lie. I have a pretty good bullshit detector. I don't think there was a position available in the first place. So, as Kermit Oswald once said: it is what it is.

__Now. As for writing that makes me really fucking hot? Words that visually conjur a sexual act, wet the insides of my insides, all that amazing shit? The only thing that honestly comes to mind is a one-sentence description of theft, from Genet's The Thief's Journal. Even though Genet is really just talking about stealing a material object in this particular sentence, when I read it, I thought immediately of a hand on a dick, a fist in an ass. I nearly passed out from the sexual energy that overwhelmed me at the time. A few months later, I saw Todd Haynes' film Poison, and I was startled to see that he quoted the same line and also interpreted the line as explicitly sexual. My copy of The Thief's Journal is loaned out, but, doing my best from memory:

'My heart is in my hand, and my hand is in the bag, and the bag is shut, and my heart is caught.'

Now those are words to get off by. Fuck: Yes.
----

Philippe Mangano

in English translation:

In the toilets
there is The Face
issue number
seventy
two hundred and
thirty-six pages

You can see Mac
Caulay Culkin
spiting out swallowing
his white dribble
on the cover
at twenty-two

He has white
milky eyes without
trace of abuse
even though you think
smooth-cheeked chest
page number eighty

White tank top
Gap grey boxer shorts
the hours are
Roman numerals
thick lip
eighty-one

Grey smoke
visible pore
the coton
became black
not like in the
double page

The fag is white
all the seam
you can't even
see its name
mine is not
stomach ache


*


in the original French:


Dans les toilettes
il y a The Face
le numéro
soixante-dix
il fait deux cent
trente-six pages

On y voit Mac
Caulay Culkin
crachant avalant
sa bave blanche
en couverture
à vingt-deux ans

Il a les yeux
d'un blanc laiteux
sans trace d'abus
quoiqu'on en pense
le torse imberbe
page quatre-vingt

Débardeur blanc
caleçon gris Gap
les heures sont des
chiffres romains
la lèvre épaisse
quatre-vingt un

La fumée grise
pore apparent
le coton est
devenu noir
pas comme dans la
page doublée

La clope est blanche
toute la couture
on n'en distingue
même pas le nom
le mien n'est pas
j'ai mal au ventre
----

bacteriaburger

I write a lot of porn, so in lieu of posting my own stuff, I thought I'd note porn writing that I especially enjoy.

Lars Eighner has written several books of erotica, but is most known for his nonfiction book "Travels With Lizbeth". Eighner's erotica, in particular the novel "Wank: The Tapes", was the first porn writing to really blow my mind, in that it turned me on both sexually and to the artistic possibilities of porn writing.

"Wank" concerns the sexual goings-on in a college dorm. Eighner takes the tried and true college dorm fantasy and makes it fresh by imagining a world of roles and rules that his straight, gay, and bi characters assume in their encounters. The prose is tight, hard and even poetic. The novel follows the motion of a typical porn scene in that it builds and builds to a penultimate climax; and the way that Eighner manages to sustain this build-up is a thing of wonder. I also recommend his Houston Street stories, which are included in the book "Bayou Boy". In particular, the story "Parks" is as tough, uncompromising, and erotic a coming-of-age narrative as I've ever read.

Geez, I make it sound so fucking academic, but it's really hot stuff, trust me. The only place I've been able to find these books online is Amazon, because they're mostly out of print. I hesitate to post URLs because they're so long, so just go to Amazon and search "lars eighner". If you like a good dirty story, I'm sure you won't regret it.

**

I'm a big fan of amateur erotica. There's a sincerity and earnestness in the best amateur porn that you just can't get anywhere else - the creator is doing it simply for his own pleasure and the pleasure of his/her readers.

Unforunately, it is often poorly written; but a major exception is the work of NPhillydogg, who regularly posts on Nifty.org. His stories of African-American men on the down-low are intensely erotic and offer a glimpse into a fully-realized world. Just to witness the author getting totally carried away with his characters and stories is a blast.

To find his Nifty stories, go to this link, and look for "NPhillydogg"

Or try these stories which I recommend:

"Weed" (p.2)"

"The Kiss"

Another favorite amateur porn writer is Sebastian Wallace, but I won't say anything about him except to direct you to his website, where there's lots to discover and wank over:

http://stories.remoworld.com/

**

Ah, fuck it; I can't resist posting some of my own stuff. This is a link to the latest story posted on my website (http://www.bacteriaburger.com). I think it's one of the better stories I've written this year, but I wasn't able to publish it anywhere. It also relates to some of the discussion I've had with Dennis on this blog, regarding those amateur "straight college guy" porn-model sites:

"Bradley Gets Fucked"
----

E.D.

----He had a skinny little mustache that looked like it belonged on a lonely boy from a bleached and weathered photograph in a seventies porn mag. I couldn't tell if I thought it was cool or ugly. When I opened the door of the bar he was right there, an off-center smile and his head tilted back. He moved in sharp, slanted motions that I thought were cute and child-like. We stood in the corner and talked – chitchat. We discovered we both loved the same brand of underwear. "I'm wearing them right now," I told him, and he was, too. "See?" he said, lifting up his shirt and pulling up the elastic band of his underwear above his jeans so I could look. My eyes flickered to the sinewy pubic hairs that peeked out from behind the top of the underwear.

----"Do you wanna take a walk?" he asked me. I said sure. The streets were empty and damp, echo-y. The temperature had dropped suddenly, without warning, and I pulled my cardigan tightly around my chest as we walked and smoked. We headed in the direction of his apartment – he led and I followed. I waited for him to touch me, to brush his hand against mine or tap my foot with his shoe, but he never did. When we finally reached his apartment, he stopped and said "you can crash here, if you want" without looking at me. I said sure.

----In the kitchen he made toast and sprinkled some yeast on it before he bit into it, which I thought was weird. "I'm obsessed with toast," he said with a full mouth. "I eat it all the time." He found a half-full bottle of cheap wine and when he finished eating we took it to his room. He lived in a railroad and his roommates were asleep, so we had to tiptoe through their bedrooms to get to his. The door to his room was made mostly of thin glass panes, so we still had to talk in whispers. His walls were painted a comforting baby blue, but the room was stuffy and still, which made it seem like some forgotten nursery for a stillborn boy.

----His bed was just a worn mattress supported by some crates that were uneven, making the bed slope down at the head. We sprawled out on it and downed our wine. We laughed at the same things for a while and then he kissed me. It felt sweet and that bothered me – I liked him. I liked him enough to worry that maybe if we fucked I'd never see him again. But he kept kissing me in quick, balmy swipes and I let go. We took our clothes off.

----He was unbelievably skinny. He had a wiry torso that seemed longer than me and hips that poked out of his body frame like handle bars. His cock was thicker at the base and thinned out towards the head, which I liked. Pressing my fingertips along his backside, I felt each of his…flaws. But they didn't seem like flaws on him. The spot of acne on his shoulder, the dark moles on his back, the insistent black hairs that swirled above the crack of his ass – they were beautiful and they made him real. I wanted to memorize each of them. With his clothes off his body odor overtook the room – it was pungent and stiff but gorgeous, and I found myself drawn to his armpits.

----The sex was warm and fragrant and we fell asleep quickly, his pointy skeleton nestled into my hide. In the morning we gave each other blowjobs before he had to go to work. When I was about to come, he pulled his mouth away and I shot it on his hand. When I was sucking him he never told me he was close, and he ejaculated in my mouth. I almost gagged, but I swallowed it all.

----As we ambled to the subway under gaudy daylight he said that we should see each other again. He was leaving for business next week, though, and he'd be gone a while – but perhaps this coming weekend, he suggested. I nodded. He didn't return my first phone call, but he answered the second one and his voice was placid and tender. Maybe we could get together on Halloween, he said. But he didn't call. A few days later when I called he told me "look, I think you're a nice guy..." and the words just kind of dissolved into soft, fuzzy noise after that.

----So then I hated him. I would see him in bars every so often and I would hiss at him from afar. Eventually, he'd spot me, come over and say things like "you look really great. I love your beard," and that made me hate him even more, that he was being so sweet. I thought my hatred was a good thing – it kept me from pining after him.

----But one night he didn't say anything to me at all. From my perch at the bar I saw him walk in, and I groaned to my friends. I tried to ignore his presence, but a few minutes later I turned around and he was just standing there, next to me. I could only mumble "hi." He stared for a moment and then he leaned into me drunkenly, pushed his mouth against mine. His tongue separated my lips, filled my mouth, seemed to find its way down into my throat. The kiss was endless, overwhelming. It left me disoriented, and hard. We left for his apartment.

----Outside he tripped on the sidewalk and pretended it didn't happen. He was glassy-eyed, wasted. We ignored all the other passengers when we got on the subway and I laid my head in his lap while he twisted my hair in his fingers and hummed. On the walk to his apartment his pants kept falling down because he wasn't wearing a belt and he would have to stop and hike them up. We would make out and I'd stick my hands down the back of his pants to feel the heat coming off the skin of his ass. I'd press his crotch into mine to feel his erection and then we'd keep walking. Before we got there we stopped and pissed behind some cars and I watched his stream of urine snake down the pavement.

----It smelled like a casino inside his apartment. Everything seemed to be coated in ash and soured cigarette butts. Lumps of clothes and empty ice cream containers dotted the floor. There was an empty condom wrapper right by his bed. It bothered me. He's dirty, I thought, and I'm going to fuck him anyway. I was still drinking whiskey, trying to catch up with him, when he offered me what he said were anti-epilepsy pills that were like percodan or percoset or something. "They just make you feel really good," he explained. I didn't ask how he got them. He stuck his palm out, two little pills in it. I took them and when he turned his head I shoved them in my pocket. He told me he had gone on a bit of a drug binge a few days ago - just random pills - but that he hadn't taken any in a few days. I wasn't sure if I believed him. He seemed more than drunk.

----Once we stripped he never took his mouth off me. His kisses were heavy and warm, sloppy. When I realized that I still had my pink bandana around my neck I took it off and blindfolded him. "That's hot," he said, as I pushed his spine against the mattress. There was a shoebox full of off-brand condoms under his bed. I snatched one, tore open the wrapper and slid it on his cock, which was pulsating. Once it was in me, we couldn't stop fucking – we were attached, we were melded, we were meshed in flesh and moisture. His thrusting was aggressive and he panted and squinted his eyes. We fucked so hard we would slide off the bed, over and over. But we didn't stop, we didn't separate – we just kept going on the floor. I would slap his ass, grab huge chunks of skin, and he would pump faster. Then he would make a little fist and press it deep into my chest, right by my nipple. I grunted when he did this, and he began to do it a little harder. Instead of fuck me I found myself whispering hit me. And then I wasn't whispering anymore. He was shushing me and I was saying hit me. I didn't care what he was thinking. I started shouting and he was sneering Shut Up. Shut Up. But he was hitting me.
----

KENVULSION

ST Lil Bro (4) Punishment Party t/t m/b group spanking anal enema toys speedos

(Part 4)

That weekend there was a BBQ at Coach's house outside of town. It was an orientation for rookies since swim team try-outs started in two weeks. Even though Jimmy still had another year at Junior High School, coach wanted him on the High School Team. Jimmy had won the district championships in his age group (10-13) in both the 50 Freestyle and the 100 meter breastroke. He was already showing a natural talent. And not just in swimming.

Coach let Mike know that Lucian and Ian had told him everything. All about busting his little brother's ass cherry, and details about other little swimmers they raped at their clubhouse. He had seen pictures of Jimmy's adorable ass being abused. Mike was ordered to bring him to the BBQ and told specifically not to touch his little fanny. No spankings. No assplay. No fuckings. The only thing he was allowed to do was lotion it.

Of course these were very hot thorough lotionings that started as soon as Mom and Dad left for work in the morning. Mike and Jimmy took full advantage of the last few days of summer, spending long hours in their room having sex. Jimmy would lie there every morning waiting for his brother's hands to slide under his briefs. He loved being stripped, spread and lotioned. Every inch of boy fanny was polished. The soft supple white cheeks and deep smooth crack, endless circling and probing of the pink starfish. It made Mike crazy, exploring his baby brother's tender back door, and not being able to fuck it. But he knew not to disobey coach. Mike had a feeling he was in for a spanking. Didn't seem like the Coach was very pleased about them ass raping his 12 year old brother.

By the time Dad dropped them off at the Coach's house the party was in full swing.
In the backyard upperclassmen and even some older guys were gathered around the smoking BBQ. Clearly they weren't just BBQing ribs either. Someone yelped as a paddle smacked a wet Speedo clad bottom.

In the driveway five 13 and 14 year old boys were polishing the Coach's large black SUV. All of them were in Speedos, and embarrassed since everyone else was dressed in shorts and shirts. Each had been invited to try out for the team not because they had fast times, but because they were the hottest boys, Pony Boys who had just spent the summer splashing around the pool getting golden brown tans. The upperclassmen scouted the Youth Swim Team for the best, roundest asses. Sometimes it wasn't even sexual attraction that made them personally invite these boys to try out for the team. Some of the straight bullies just liked how a bubble butt bounced during a spanking.



These poor little boys actually believed that they would be swimming that day. Instead they were getting their tails roasted. 13 and 14 year old boys in wet speedos were being made to detail the Coach's truck while a bunch of seniors paddled them. Random blasts with a garden hose kept their asses nice and wet, which made the paddle sting even more.

"You missed a spot faggot."

CRACK !

"OWWWW It hurts"

Each year the swim team held a car wash to raise money. People came from miles around to have wet Speedo clad teenagers polish their cars. The freshmen were told they needed to learn how to polish a car properly.

"If you miss another spot on that bumper I'm gonna paddle your ass raw!"

Jimmy was turned on by the sight of the 18 year old swimmers paddling his friend's small behinds. These were all boys Jimmy knew from the pool. All that swimming was good for building tight muscular little bottoms. Nice deep cracks for wet speedos to wedge themselves in. There was a lot of fanny flesh on display. Innocent little boys being circled by paddle weilding predators. Swim team hazing had begun.

One of the Seniors was particularly hot and evil looking. This guy looked right at Mike and Jimmy and headed in their direction, a beer in one hand and a small paddle in the other. Paul came right up to Mike and swatted him on the ass. He then pulled back Mike's shorts and Speedos to have a look at his crack.

"Hey Pussyboy. Guess you didn't see Coach yet. He wants you in the Basement."

The way Paul hissed this into Mike's ear made Jimmy wonder if he punished his older brother. Mike's cock bulged as Paul continued exploring his ass. He was rubbing the very top of the smooth crack, right below the tanline.

"When he gets done with you find me. Understand Hole?"

That little paddle cracked against Mike's tender fanny flesh. Smooth pale unexposed ass that hadn't been punished all summer. It was clear what kind of BBQ this was and Mike's 15 year old's ass was on the menu. Unwittingly, he had brought his little brother to one of the coach's Punishment Parties. And it looked like the party was being held in honor of Mike his buddies. Mike noticed none of them were out in the yard. He had a pretty good idea what was going on inside the Coach's rambling ranch-style house.

The stairs to the basement were right inside the back door of the house. The sound of hard spanking and lots of crying was coming from downstairs. Asses were being loudly punished.

A den area was set up in the main part of the basement. There was TV, PlayStation,
and plenty of room for the swim team to hang out, which they were welcome to do any time they wanted. Everyone was chilling, relaxing with beer, chips and dip. ESPN was playing on the big TV set. It looked completely normal and wholesome, except in the middle of the L shape sectional a strapping Senior named Luke had Lucian bare ass in the wheelbarrow postion. Lucian's blue Arena racing suit was yanked down just below his buttcheeks. No one was paying that much attention to the smooth 15 year old being punished. He was spread on Luke's lap with his strong legs pulled apart, face down, hands laced together and on his head. This was one of the best spanking postions. In this postion a boy always showed hole. Lucian's little winker was pulsing every time Luke's hand landed on one of his meaty cheeks. You could tell that Lucian had been getting his fanny tanned all afternoon by Coach as well as Luke. The glimmer around the teen's hole indicated ass play as well. They were always teasing Lucian because he was pretty. His long eyelashes, pouty lips, and long hair made him look almost like a girl, especially when his ass was in the air. Sometimes they made him wear a pair of pink silk panties, and a little teddy. In spite of his ten inch cock he was a trained pussyboy.

"My hand's gettin tired Lucian. Guess it's hole time."

Luke picked up a long dildo from the coffee table and started to lube it with Vaseline.
There were paddles, straps, handcuffs, buttplugs, empty beer cans, smashed potato chips, and a big jar of Vaseline on the table. The red dildo Luke was going to use on Lucian was about 14 inches long, an inch and a half thick, and it vibrated. The thing buzzed to life and then was slowly pushed against Lucian's pink hole.

"See baby, it's got four different speeds."

Luke put only the tip against the wet hole and showed Lucian how all four settings felt. It buzzed his hairless ass pucker, making it flutter obscenely. After this little warm-up the fat dildo was slowly roatated in. The guy next to Luke got interested and helped pull Lucian's ass farther apart. He had a nice hole. The rim got inspected, looked at, rubbed. The dildo probed in and out. A finger would swirl around the hole every time the toy popped out. Another glob of Vaseline was rubbed in so the dildo could go deeper. Everytime Lucian moaned his ass got slapped which made his anus open further. Soon 7 inches of dildo was in the teen's ass. From his prostrate to the rim of his hole, his butt was being buzzed. No attention was being paid to his throbbing ten inch cock, dangling between Luke's legs. They didn't want him to cum until he was upstairs.

In the bedrooms upstairs three of the teens involved in Jimmy's ass rape were being gang banged. Coach had already finished frying their fannies. After a full punishment session that included some OTK and an enema, the 15 year olds were sent upstairs to spread.



Seniors, and even some older guys were lined up in the hall waiting to get into one of the rape rooms. Mike's teamates were tied up, with plenty of hard cock waiting to plug any available hole. The beds were stripped down for hard play, each boy's ass was in the air, face pussy available. Pulled down Speedos were used as cum rags. Hard muscled swimmers pounded away at the supple asses and hot wet mouths. Free beer and tight pussy, what stud could turn that down? No one cared if it was boy pussy they were pounding. These boys were young, smooth and hella tight. With their speedo fuck panties pulled down you could hardly tell that they weren't girls. Some of them, like Ian had better looking asses than a lot of these guy's girlfriends. There were guys there just to perv, a few real dirty talkers who would whisper the nastiest things in your ear about how pretty your mouth or hole was, then cream all over your face or up your nose. Coach invited the nastiest guys to the Punishment Party to make sure each of the six boys got banged good.

"Hey Fag, want a beer?"

Ian was about to get a beer enema. Someone was twisting an icy cold bottle into his small pink hole. The coolness felt good on his punished flesh, but he knew that once the liquid was inside they would leave him there, with the 40 ounce bottle shoved up his ass. He cried and screamed as the cramps started, writhing helplessly against his binds.

"You leak a drop of that beer and we'll make you drink it."
"Yeah dude! Let's make him drink Ass beer!
"Put a hose in his ass and drain it into his mouth!!"

The guys in Ian's room opened more beers and took a break from pounding his pussy. They talked among themselves about which teen was tightest, who sucked the best cock, which ass took the hardest spanking. Someone decided a beer enema was a good idea for all three bottoms. More than thirty cumloads had already been deposited, and the gang bang had just gotten into full swing. It was time to clean the pussies out, stretch them on the fat bottle necks. Each got a full forty ouncer.

Ian reached agony first, so they untied him and he was alowed take his enema dump.
He would sure to suffer more since everyone was getting into torturing his little ass. They could do anything they wanted to him. He was so drunk from the beer enema that he would probably pass out, then the fisting and double dicking would begin.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Mike and Jimmy were standing in the doorway of the Coach's discipline room. It was about 10x10 and painted black. A door in back led to a small bathroom. Next to it was a custom padded punishment table. It was adustable and had many leather straps to restrain the victim. The thing was designed to perfectly spread and immobilize a teenage boy. There was a metal stand for an enema bag and three drawers underneath for medical and surgical toys.

Spanking implements and toys were kept in a large oak cabinet. Many a boy shivered as the Coach would choose among the many devices he had to torture hole. Also to be found were a myriad of restraints, gags,cameras, ball stretchers, pony tails, the collection of a true sadist.

Center in the room was the Coach himself. Seated in a sturdy wood chair. Seth, the boy who had taken the digital pictures of Jimmy's rape was over the Coach's knee. Nothing was more embarassing to a maturing 15 year old than getting an over the knee spanking. Getting your speedos yanked down, and then being treated like a little baby.

Seth had a baby ass. It was very round and bouncy. Not only hairless, but extremely soft. Everyone loved looking at Seth's deep crack in the showers. He was a shy boy and tended to be the voyuer during their sex parties. Mike wasn't even sure if he had given up his ass cherry yet. He was into group J/O sessions and dirty talk on the phone, but hadn't had that much actual sex. Coach delivered another series of fast swats to Seth's cheeks, he had been riding the man's knee for about thirty minutes. His tail was roasted. Coach wiped his sweaty brow and then motioned Mike and Jimmy into the Punishment Room.

"You must be Mike's little brother. Come over here so you can see better. I'm just taking a little break here. My hand's getting tired."

SWAT!

"You like seeing boys get their fannies tanned?"

SWAT!

Jimmy was transfixed as the Coach's big hand rubbed Seth's spanked fanny. His finger were roaming all over. Lightly stroking the crack, then down between the legs and back over the bright red punished cheeks.

"Mike go fetch me the Fanny Sauce and that black latex Spanking Glove from the cabinet."

Mike knew right away what Seth was in for. Once coach got done spanking with his bare hands he would put on a thick Latex glove designed especially to punish ass. Coach could tan fanny all afternoon and never worry about his hand getting sore. The latex made the spanking that much more painful. Worse were the fingertips of the glove. Each had raised bumps and thorns. Cheeks were pulled apart and the fingertips would dance over the exposed flesh. This is where the "Fanny Sauce" came in.



Every time there was a Punishment Party the Coach would whip up a batch of homemade Fanny Sauce to slather on each punished boy's ass. The sauce had a base of Baby Oil and was seasoned with peppermint oil, ground ginger,ground red pepper,and a special ingredient that made the skin itch. This fanny sauce was in a large bottle custom fitted with a large nozzle. Coach squeezed some of it into his hand and began rubbing it into Seth ass cheeks. At first it felt soothing, but soon the oil would heat up. making his ass feel even more on fire. The poor guy was soon thrashing around trying to put the fire out. Coach kept Seth's arms pinned so he couldn't rub his tortured tail.

The ass went higher as the Coach repostioned him with his legs spread. Seth was showing hole. The hole didn't get touched. Just looked at. After drenching the crack in sauce Coach went to work on it with the bumpy tips of the gloves. He massaged and teased the whole crack while dancing around the hole. Heat seared tender flesh as the wicked latex bumps and cones circled closer to the pink skin around Seth's pucker. Coach used his forefinger and thumb to spread the area around the anus and used his middle finger to lightly tickle it. The smallest bit of Fanny Sauce was now being applied to the most sensitive part of this boy's body. Every nerve felt the sweep of the fingertips molesting the fifteen year old's innocent back door.

"See how that Fanny Sauce is making his hole burn?
You're getting my finger twenty times all the way in and all the way out Seth.
You tell me when your ready."

Seth didn't want the Coach up his ass, basting it with that fucking sauce. But soon the itch at his hole was too much to bear. He was helpless. There was no way he could get at the itch. Coach loved looking at Seth's hole as the sauce did it's trick. The little thing was winking as the tip of his fuck finger grazed it. Then Coach suprised him with a hard slap to the left cheek.

"Tell me when you're ready."

"Alright Alright. Do it."

Coach re-spread Seth's ass. "Do what boy."

"Finger my ass."

The black latex fuckfinger corkscrewed in and Seth felt every inch. The bumps and protrusions were tickling his sore, hot opening. Coach wiggled his finger once it was all the way in, and after a little probing it was slowly corscrewed out.

"That's one boy. I want you to fuck yourself on my finger now. You've got nineteen strokes to go."

What a little slut Coach turned this kid into. Making him screw his own ass onto a middle finger lubed with torture sauce. And he was doing it in front of his best friend and his kid brother. They were watching Coach make a pussy out of his unexplored asshole. The guy really knew how to use his thick long fingers. He played that ass like a piano. By the tenth stroke Seth was really riding it. Coach was making a real nice ass pussy for the team to exploit, and he wasn't nearly done.

The fingerfucking speeded up, Seth was on fire at this point. His hard-on was postioned between the coaches legs and stretched the pouch of his pulled down Speedos. Nothing mattered but the finger tickling the depths of his ass and deliciously tight place he was humping on Coach's legs. As embarassing as it would be, he was about to blow a load into his Speedos and all over the Coach's lap while cornholing himself on that middle finger. Mike and Jimmy couldn't believe it as Seth creamed his pouch. Some of it even landed on the floor.

He got another sound spanking for cumming without permission and staining his Coach's pants. Seth was made to suck his own load out of the pouch of his Speedos before the Coach stuffed them in his mouth. The boy was made to stand in the corner with his hands on his head, showing off his red ass. The fanny sauce would roast his flesh for another twenty minutes, making Seth dance around and moan into his gag.

"This is the same punishment all of your buddies got Mike. When I'm done with Seth you're next. Now go fill up the enema bag for him."

As the red two quart bag was filled with water, Coach explained to Jimmy the punishment each boy was being given before being sent upstairs to get banged. It was called Fire & Ice. First the OTK ass roasting. Then the Fanny Sauce got rubbed into the cheeks and deep inside. This had them singing and dancing as it grew hotter and itchier. A cum soaked Speedo gag made it even more humiliating.

After corner time came the "Ice" part of the punishment. Coach had a small freezer in the corner of the room that contained Klyster enema nozzles for each boy. The nozzles are made of machined satin finished aluminum. This metal is beautiful, durable, light enough for comfortable wear yet heavy enough for a very solid feel. The nozzles were shaped like butt plugs, some tapered, others had bulges, one was rippled. They were all more than six inches long and two or three inches wide.

Once Seth was secured to the punishment table Coach got ready to give him an icy enema. The water in the enema bag was cold, but the nozzle was freezing. Seth was terrified as his Klyster nozzle was removed from the freezer, gleaming in the dim light. He had never seen anything so scary looking. It was coated with mentholated gel and attached to the enema hose. Seth knew it was going to be screwed into his little ass.

Coach had to spank him apart. The kid still had enough of a fight left to squeeze his butt cheeks together, trying to avoid the freezing thing about to invade his ass. Useless. It sank into his fresh hole. All the way in.

Then Coach tenderly rubbed his back and he relaxed enough to breathe and begin to deal with the huge butt plug dialating his asshole. It sent shivers through him, but the freezing cold plug cooled the effects of the Fanny Sauce, which had been roasting his pucker for the last ten minutes.

"Just open up and take it, it's just like stretching before a race Seth."

A little of the lube dribbled down Seth's balls. He was fully exposed on the table. Cock and balls hanging through an opening in the table. It was designed so that the Coach could bring his chair over and comfortably study a boy's ass from between his splayed legs. There was also a convenient goose neck lamp. It provided focused bright light. You could see Seth's pink assring throb around the base of the custom torture nozzle. Plenty of light to look at hole, even take some pictures (gotta pay for those nozzles somehow.) Sometimes the Coach put on his reading glasses to he could really inspect the flesh he was torturing.

This Coach was the kind of guy who made boys quiver just by looking at them with his piercing blue eyes. He was a stocky, dark man. In good shape for his age because of years in the pool, training and tightening boys up til they were ripe for the table. Seth's asshole was beautiful. Perfect age to begin prolonged stretching.
The fat enema nozzle would be in there for a good half hour while the coach slowly filled him up. This fifteen year old boy was an enema virgin.

Cooling water blasted his tortured prostrate. The nozzle had holes up and down it's length to evenly stimulate the insides of Seth's ass. Coach had Mike fetch him a beer. He wanted to relax and enjoy giving Seth his very first enema. Jimmy watched as Coach used the stopper to control how much water flowed into the blond fifteen year old. For and enema virgin two quarts was quite a load. was giving Seth had a wicked boner, the stimulation of the endless frigging and twidling of the enema nozzle was making him get hard again even though he had just creamed his pouch. Coach was a talented enema administrator. By the time Mike came back with the beer, the man was ready to kick back and watch the boy writhe in agony as the enema began cause cramps.

Sometimes he would add some flat coca cola mixed with castille soap into the enema bag at that point to add to the pain, but Seth was already screaming into his gag. Soaking it with spit. Dancing on the punsihment table as the leather straps binding him seared his soft flesh.

At this point boys would start "singing"
Shrieking as the ass punishment climaxed.



What was worse for Mike, worse than seeing his buddy tortured, was knowing he would be splayed across the Coach's knee soon, then after corner time he was headed for the torture table. And would likely get it worse than Seth. This was the punishment for raping a twelve year old boy's ass. A good lesson in enduring pain and dred. Mike's nice plump ass cheeks clenched in his swimsuit. He noticed that the spray bottle Coach used to keep his ass wet during a spanking was sitting on the floor next to where Seth had been punished. That cool water felt good until the spanking started again and your soaked Speedo clad ass simmered under his big hands.

Jimmy got to watch his older brother get a hard over-the-knee spanking. Both on skin tight Speedos, and bare. Their dad never let him watch when he spanked Mike. It was his first chance to see his big brother's ass get roasted. Mike was OTK for a while before his butt got sprayed with water, then wet spanked.

The black latex glove was used to spank and then apply a thick coat of Fanny Sauce to every inch of Mike's juicy ass. A very sexy smell was coming from this sweaty teen as he danced on the bumpy tips of the glove. Mike got cornholed as sweat dripped off his juicy balls. Since there weren't any more boys to punish Coach filled the kid up with the rest of the Sauce. He used the nozzle to squirt it deep inside. Some trickled out of the hole and dripped onto Mike's aching balls. With his free hand Coach reached under and wrapped his hand around the kids hard cock. This made a moist tight tunnel for Mike to fuck. By the time he realised the slick hand was coated in Sauce it was too late. Mike spent corner time with his cheeks,hole,cock,and balls on fire.

Seth was eventually allowed to expell the enema and sent out to be spanked and raped upstairs and in the Rec room. A tight clean hole to exploit. Even the straight guys at the party wanted a piece of that fresh pussy.

Mike was now strapped down to the warm sweaty table, the enema nozzle deep in his ass. The bag would take a few minutes to empty so Coach gave Jimmy a tour of his dungeon. All the different toys and their uses were explained to him. The Coach's dick lump grew as Jimmy examined a collection of anal speculums stored below the enema table. Some of them were child sized.

Coach had of course seen the photos of Jimmy's ass rape posted online. They had clearly photographed, in detail, his ordeal. The long hot fanny tanning. An excruciating plugging with the ginger root, lavish hole spanking, the gang ass rape. Cum dripping off his face and out of his stretched asshole.

Coach was dying to get a look at Jimmy's fanny flesh.

"Maybe when Mike's done on the table we can give you a big boy enema Jimmy."

In his mind Jimmy had already picked out the enema nozzle that he wanted the Coach to use on him. It was unique. About five inches long and beaded. Jimmy instinctively knew how pleasurable it would be to have the Coach frig his ass with that black beaded nozzle.

Once Mike was sent out to get his ass raped his lil bro was placed over the Coach's lap, not for a spanking, but so the Coach could gently pull down his brand new swimsuit and inspect his ass flesh. You see, Jimmy's Arena racing suit had come in time for the party. Mike had done a good job putting his brother's fresh ass pussy on display. This skimpy cut suit sank obscenely into Jimmy's scrumptious butt crack. Only a slit in the back to access his hole would make it sluttier. The suit even put the very top of the kid's ass crack on display.

As the Coach pulled the suit away he was able to see for himself the deep crack that had brought so much pleasure to Mike and his friends. He was gently exploring one of the freshest pieces of ass he had ever put across his knee. It was unbelievably smooth and soft. No sign of the punishments the older boys had administered. Big warm hands rubbed his baby ass all over, made him feel good on the coach's knee.
He could feel the man's big cock lurch as his tiny starfish was exposed.



The coach gave Jimmy his enema so gently that he didn't need to use restraints.
He loved being stretched out on the table, with his Speedos pulled down.
After his hole was good and clean the coach let him pick a toy out for some
detailed pleasuring. His choice was a vibrator, which had a thin anal probe attached to it. This was perfect to tease the kids tiny winking hole. There was nothing but moans of pleasure as the fanny tickler danced around Jimmy's sweet asshole. More warm vaseline was smeared on so the anal tip could probe deeper. There were four speeds and a heating element, so the Coach was able to give Jimmy a long modulated anal massage. He had that twelve year old's hole dancing on the vibrator until they had both worked up a sweat. Then attention was paid to the kid's stiff 6 inch cock.

Coach pulled off and used the brand new Arena swimsuit to jack Jimmy off with.

That's how Jimmy blew his first load in the Coach's basement. Ass in the air, being diddled with a vibrator as he blew a load right into to his brand new fuck panties.
----

brooklyn serpico

(This excerpt comes from an unfinished work. Please note the picture represents a general idea of one of the characters, not an exact match).



----He straddles his chest and his balls rest on a fiery sun god. On his neck a lightning bolt flashes to and fro in the opposite direction of the cock in his mouth. The clown remains surly and humorless, although one might suspect Snoopy’s rye smirk might belie another not so benign impression of the encounter. He pulls out of tattoo guy’s mouth. Beads of sweat appear more clearly on his body as it is covered by nothing but a pair of white athletic socks. As he slides down they meet face to face. His chest hair sinks into the sun. He raises his head and their eyes meet.
----“Are you having fun yet?”
----“No.”
----‘No’ is the expected answer, but there is something about the delivery that didn’t quite work. It will have to be addressed by next time.
----“Kiss me like you fucking love me.” The sound of his own voice shocks even the speaker for a second. There are sometimes moments like these where he finds his energy so raw and hateful that he can actually scare himself. The reflection lasts only a second and he is able to let go of the analysis and drift back in.
----Their lips lock. He feels himself sucking the soul out of the tattoo guy. In the years he has known him he hardly ever got the impression that tattoo guy liked him even a little bit. Tattoo guy has never had a boyfriend or girlfriend to his knowledge, but there is such a sense of passion given off by that kiss that it shocks him out of the moment again into yet another meta-moment where he is reflecting on things as they happen. As he holds him down and makes him kiss him a strange emotion bubbles up. It’s tender and all together useless.
----“Now kiss me like you hate me.”
----This allows both of them to return to their comfort zone. The joining of their anger and rage causes the bigger man to rise up. Kneeling on the edge of the bed (actually just a mattress on the floor) he grabs his ankles and twists. Like a chain reaction the tattoo guy rolls over and the other dives back on top. The right arm comes over the right shoulder and around his neck and is guided to his left wrist. The left arm slides under his torso and grabs the right wrist. His knees spread the knees below him.
----In the past this part had gone much slower, but the improvisation of the kissing and the feelings it created makes it seem not so important. With a single thrust his cock enters the sweat drenched ass. The body tightens underneath him. Tattoo guy is clearly stunned.
----“No take it out!”
----“Why?”
----“It hurts!”
----“So, don’t you fucking like it?”
----“NO!”
----“Don’t worry, this won’t take long.”
----“No, please!”
----“OK, now you can shut the fuck up.”
----There is no objective way of discerning whether or not the fucking takes a long time or a short time. Tattoo guy’s face is crammed against the bare, stained mattress. He listens to a barrage of insults as his ass is violated.
----“You ready?”
----“What?”
----He squeezes the guy under him.
----“Are you ready?”
----“No, pull out don’t cum inside me!”
----“Shut up”
----“Please, please don’t”
----Three climactic thrusts, two grunts and a long groan and then the two turn calm. He lets his head rest for a minute on the side of tattoo guy’s head. Thirty seconds later a twitch and a sigh from underneath indicates that it is time to get up.
----He rolls over and his dick slips out. Tattoo guy puts on boxers and scampers off to the bathroom. He is somehow always surprised when he sees tattoo guy has gotten off. On the uncovered mattress is the pattern of a human being in sweat with a small pool of semen directly in its center. It reminds him of the chalk outlines from detective shows on TV, limbs strewn helter skelter.
----He only ever gets to the bathroom second so he puts all his clothes on right away. He’s filthy but he isn’t about to do anything about it besides give his dick a quick bath in the sink and piss.
----He emerges from the bathroom to find tattoo guy standing in the hall. Tattoo guy has the same smirk as snoopy. Tattoo guy extends his hand.
----“Thanks dude!” he says.
----“Yeah man, that was hot.” Their hands join for a friendly, brief squeeze.
----“I’ll catch you.”
----“I’ll be looking for you.”
----

lost child

my sex sex erotique fragment......

when he pull my jeans down
he admire mi dick mi balls
he inmerses himself
in them on them
like a prayer
on his knees
lick them soft and hard
sof and hard
more hard more lick like eternal long licking
his mouth is fresh
i feel the wet in my skin
my balls are sliding
my dick is hard hard shaped by
his loopy tongue
his loopy tongue
his hands round my ass
opening it
spliting it
my hole is expanding
dilatating like a mouth
and i want him in there
so so so there
the sound of his lick
is louder and louder
my compulsions are most
dificult to control
i wish it last forever
spasms my liquid
my cum my cum is so ready
in there
his mouth is so ready
my ass is so so ready
i want to shake shake
shake
and i shake and shake
his hair falls on his eyes
his hair falls on my dick
his long hair covers his face
but his mouth his tongue
are shining hot
he suck me real good
he suck me real real good
i can see my cum in his mouth
my cum inside his troath
his teeeh....
on my cum
his hair on my cum
his tongue full of cum
he is so hard he takes me
by my back
now he is going to fuck me
hard hard hard
his dick moves in out in out
his mouth bites my ear
my neck
his tongue inside my sound hole
noising sucking real good
fucking me so good
filling me hard
oh yeah
do it like this
oh yeah
real good
like this
give it now now
give it now
oh yeah
boy
you are so good
this is soo good
his balls against my butt
hitting me hard
come on boy
scream boy
scream yeah
give it
yeah
give it now
real good
i want his hole
and i get his hole
and his hole is
glory on my mouth
his taste i wet
oh now
oh now
my tongue licks
him real good
my tongue fucks him real good
and he is hard
againg so hard
againg so so so hard
i know i am staying here
now
loopying your hole
kissing your ring
losing me in it
and i am hard
againg hard
againg
fucking hard
for you
----

young and stupid

She lies back and the shock of the slab juts her nipples out and arches her slender back. Her breasts are large and intrusive. At odds with her pubescent framework. She has the hips of a twelve-year-old. I run a hand across the width of her navel which is hard and sticky and gleams in the moonlight.
"Look at your tits," I whipser, "Touch them."
She does so, reluctant at first but wanting to be urged on. I slip an arm around her small back and flick my tongue across her flat young tummy.
"Do you like that?"
Impatient now, I part her legs which are coloured with fresh bruises. I slide a finger inside. She's dry and stiffens at my touch. For an instant, I feel I should stop, I should turn on my heels and run. But as my mouth falls upon her cunt and the smell of rubber smacks me in the face, I resume my role. Guiltlessly. As a punter. With a stiff tongue I press down hard on her clit and with short purposeful strokes, I slowly massage her to life. I feed in another then another finger and her resistance gives way to minimal yet compliant thrusts. My movements become more forceful and her juices gush freely onto my face. The body arcs upwards and outwards and holds up there as she strains against this pleasure.
I slide a hand in my trousers and seek my cunt. I manipulate myself hard an selfishly, the whore becoming nothing but a body. A cunt in a magazine. My climax is powerful but as soon as those crackling shortwaves subside I'm overwhelmed by the impulse to abscond. I feel sober and akward. I remove my hands from her body, which are lathered in our sweat and wipe them on my hips.

-- "Brass" Helen Walsh (2004)


On the floor of her mother's walk-in closet, she gagged his mouth with a suede Dior belt; behind the cinder-block retaining wall, she employed a railroad tie to hold his legs spread. Deep in the furnace room, hidden among the spare tires and Flexible Flyers, she repetitiously wrapped him with kite string and extra electrical cords,
tying him to the hot-water heater, his puny ass burning a bright and cheery pink as heat seeped through the thin insulation. She pushed him past his limit, drove his sweet Schwanstück backward and forward, slamming him from drive to reverse. Stripped, she slid her naked body over his, sweeping the rubbery tips of her tits across his fine and sensitive skin from neck to nuts, making him twist and turn, trying to pull away from the heater, the heater itself making a groaning sound and him begging, "Put it in, put it in."

-- "The End of Alice" A. M. Homes (1996)


"Put it in my ass, Sir Edmond." Simone shouted.

-- "Story of the Eye" Georges Bataille (1928)


http://www.XTube.com/play_re.php?v=4TrW6BGSL4f
http://www.insexarchives.com/
http://www.infernalrestraints.com/
http://www.spankingblog.com/
http://www.herfirstpunishment.com/
----

joe mills

from THROUGH THE WINDOW


(This story takes place in a future where virtual reality allows , well virtual reality. You come up with a fantasy, The Machine lets you indulge it as though it were real. John has just had a bad interview and an argument with his boyfriend Scott and he’s mad as hell…)


‘Scenario: The Interviewer from the clinic today. We’re both American pilots, World War Two. Get the uniforms right. He’s decided to go straight and get married but I won’t take no for an answer.’
’Not that one again,’ The Machine said wearily.
’Just do it!’ He slammed a window shut.
Then shouted ‘Machine Response off!’
He’d programmed ‘Cheeky’ into Response, but was thinking of changing it to ‘Supportive’ any day now.

The rape went well. Twice. Very satisfying. At first the big leather bomber jacket with the furry collar was too romantic and cuddly to be sexy, so he changed it to Mafia boy in black shirt and white tie. Ripped the shirt open across the chest.
’Think you’re Superman pal eh? Think you know it all?’
He squeezed both nipples until they were purple.
‘ More dick!’
The Interviewer’s trousers swelled up until it looked like he’d got a rugby ball behind his zip. John pulled the trousers down, grabbed the snake-size dick .
’Pliable Gravity’ had already been programmed into Rape He lifted the weightless legs up over his shoulders and pummelled in. So much easier than all that awkwardness with Scott.
The second time he got carried away.
‘A dick coming out of his mouth. And Giovanni from sixth year, up my arse at the same time He’s secretly wanted me for years. Verbals. Biting my neck. Hands all over. The usual’.
John had V-raped and been V-raped by every guy at school he’d ever been frustrated by before his parents gave him the key to the machine scrambler.
And V-loved by Giovanni. And Scott (exactly the way he wanted it - he and Scott in the Manhattan film poster world: on the bench beneath the bridge, forever.)

Read the rest here.


----------------


From ARISTOTLE MCNAB


(Aristotle McNab is a serial killer with a penchant for Mormons. He has drugged his latest two victims, Ruben and Gabriel, the latter of whom he’s working on…)


‘You telling me,Gabriel, in six or seven years you never whacked off ?’
‘I’ve sure tried not to. Once in a while.’
‘.That’s a lot of little swimmers to keep inside you. Do they die off in there? I mean you might as well let them out then. Or are there little five year old sperms in there quietly going nuts?‘ I’m thinking, shit, that’s why these religious types are all freaks - their father’s swimmers are all stir crazy.

Gabriel started unbuttoning his shirt then abandoned that and started on his trouser buttons then unbuckled his belt and pulled his trousers and pants down in one. Wham! - his dick sprung up and battered his belly. I pulled his trousers and pants and shoes clean off in one.
He stared at his hard dick like he’d never seen it before.

I said, ‘You know if whacking off once in a while with your own hand ain’t so bad, what’s the difference if it’s someone else’s hand?’
‘Beats the shit out of me.’ He shut his eyes.
‘Just what I intend to do.’

I sucked it first. God it was hot. And greasy. I noticed before how those Mormon boys weren’t so clean and fresh inside as out. Then I moved over his balls and up, licking every one of his shirt buttons then those big brown nipples then the neck and jaw. I ran my hands all over his beautiful gold crew-cut and licked his jaw. Finally I licked his mouth, kissed it. He opened his eyes. Stared for a minute. Or a million years. Then kissed me back, at first slowly, uncertainly then deeply and hard when I began to pump him. Then he was virtually biting my mouth off. I got mine’s out and his eyes widened, less than an inch from mine, as he felt it’s length and thickness. He pumped furiously, trying to find new grips as even his long fingers found it hard to get around it.

We both volcanoed. And here’s what it’s all about for me. As we lay on each other, shirts covered in sweat and spunk, he leaned over and kissed me gently, eye to eye. And it was Gabriel, not the drug, that was loving. For whatever reason.

Then I strangled him with his tie. It was quick and clean. I really just broke his neck. He would never have had any thought of murder or death. His last act and thought on Earth was loving me.

So here’s what I can’t understand: why can’t you understand that? He would have woken up, maybe remembered maybe not. Said a few meaningless words as he dressed himself. Then gone. He would have gone. Forever.

I fucked Ruben while he was still out cold, with Gabriel there slumped against the wall watching, his head quizzically turned to one side. I pulled Ruben’s trousers off and put him on top of Gabriel, rubbing his mouth against Gabriel’s dick, then mouth. Then I gave him the injection to wake him. His eyes opened quickly. The last thing he was aware of was Mormon shirt and tie on Mormon shirt and tie, Mormon dick on Mormon dick, Mormon mouth on Mormon mouth. Then I twisted his head and laid it on Gabriel’s.

Read the rest here.


----------------
----

misanthrope

He grabbed both of my ankles with one giant hand and pushed my feet toward my head. As he let go, I grabbed my legs by the backs of my knees and pulled hard, my hamstrings taut, my pucker of an asshole gasping for cock. He spit into his hand, lubed his dick with three long, slow, powerful strokes, then put the head of his massive member to my hole, teasing me with light, meaty brush strokes up and down my raw crack. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I yelled, "Please!" and he plowed all 10 inches straight into me, taking away my breath. He pumped me for a good half-hour, first slow, then with quick little pumps that damaged my prostate beyond belief and left my belly button full of my own pre-cum. Just before I began to beg him to stop through erratic gulps of the hot sex air filling the room, he pulled out of me, the sound of a vacuum throttling out of my ass, and busted his dank, creamy load all over my sack.
----"Vincent," said Dennis.
----I looked up at him through my sweat-soaked eyes, trying to breathe. "Yeah?"
----"Get the fuck out of here, you skinny little fucking pig, before Yury gets home."
----

jose

Tongue moving in slow circles, widening my incision – teeth biting softly, pulling my skin – two fingers pulling down my asshole – touch of dead insects – tickle, revulsion pushing me to disengage; fist entering between my legs, please – she says suck the blood from my knuckles. Punches fist into my mouth. I suck hard because I might cry. Limbs moving away from torso, legs walking away, hands floating away and disappearing – nails stripped from fingertips - teeth falling out of mouth – face stripped, cock stabbing mouth – lips breaking - teeth and hair knotted - knots sinking - organs and stomach erupting through incision - seething out in globs and black foam - mouth open, cockroaches and millipedes - exoskeletons exploding lubricate – swallow, choke – seething out antennae and thorax – no stomach – lungs bursting – heart, tight and hard, like a grenade – bursting – cloud of dead organic matter – white skull emerging – floating – jaw touching surface.

scalpel please

suck the cuts between my knuckles – suck – have they noticed this cut? The one I spit on – mom and dad never notice – two fingers in my asshole – pull it toward my mouth - have they noticed these cuts? – pink life forms thrashing in the water - genitals locked, spinning and glowing like halogen lights – noxious fumes of cooked frogs rising from the lake – waves lapping dead eels and tadpoles over our knotted limbs – dead mosquitoes and larvae between our toes - under out toe nails. Blinding light of the sexual binaries - wild contortions - splash lubricate over our bodies. That one sucks its own asshole! Did they notice these cuts at school? The ones on your dick and wrists – the ones I made by accident when the scissors slipped and I made this hole in my hand – between my thumb and index finger – you can look inside – stab it with your tongue.
----

mikey

It's like the opposite of sex, Paul thinks, instead of warmth and pleasure and pain and nothing more there are a thousand details to be noticed, registered and remembered. The hand on his thigh traces a curve up to the side of his torso and his skin is prickling, almost stinging. It's like he has never had hands there before, but he has. "Like a virgin" his mind says, "touched for the very first time." But it's not true. This is not that feeling at all. This feeling is memory.

When Neil's hand slips over his hip bone, fingers tracing his navel, arm around his waist, it's Sasha creeping close, tracing his navel, grabbing his hipbone, keeping him where he is. The burning traces of Neil's hands aren't good things. They are memories awakened by a touch that is much too soft for Paul's tastes.

Pain doesn't hurt. Pain is pain and can't be dealt with on it's own terms. Pain is pain and pain is useful. Pain is cleansing. Pain isn't that bad. Sasha never used pain, and there is nothing that hurt as much as Sasha. Neil loves him, and it makes Paul feel absolutely helpless. Neil loves him, and it makes Paul feel as if he is back in a place where sex is something that can actually hurt him, and not just something that leaves bruises.
----

jack

It's an erotic three-act play culled from the script for the pilot episode for the TV show "The Golden Girls", written by Susan Harris. I took a lot of stuff away from the original text, removing words and scenes, but made no other changes whatsoever. The character of Coco -- a flamboyant gay housekeeper played by Charles Levin -- was in the pilot but never made it to the actual series because the producers felt he took away from the bond between the women.

"The Golden Girl"
An erotic play in three acts
Originally written by Susan Harris

DOROTHY
(Played by Bea Arthur)

ROSE
(Played by Betty White)

BLANCHE
(Played by Rue McClanahan)

COCO
(Should be played by Charles Levin)


ACT ONE

INT. KITCHEN
(COCO IS COOKING. DOROTHY ENTERS)

DOROTHY
Two girls had shaved heads and three boys had green hair. Why don't you just shoot me.

COCO
Enchiladas Rancheros.

(ROSE ENTERS)
COCO / DOROTHY
Hello, Rose.

(BLANCHE ENTERS)

BLANCHE
I need some cucumbers

ROSE
Does it work on thighs?

BLANCHE
I need it on my thighs. (SHE EXITS)

ROSE
He still has teeth.

DOROTHY
All the single men are cocaine smugglers.

ROSE
I'd kill again.

DOROTHY
I'd kill again. I got the shock of my life today. I was talking to some girls. They were so pretty. At that age you don't even have to be pretty and you're pretty. I just came. And I had such a good time, too. Then I got into my car and caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and almost had a heart attack.

ROSE
Every time I look down, I see my mother's legs.

COCO
When my parents found out I was gay, my mother had a heart attack and died.

ACT TWO
(BLANCHE SITS AT MAKEUP TABLE APPLYING MAKEUP. DOROTHY KNOCKS)

DOROTHY (O. S.)
Blanche?

BLANCHE
Come in.

(DOROTHY ENTERS)

BLANCHE
I guess I'll know when I come.

DOROTHY
You'll know when you come. This isn't a belch, My God, more colors than Benjamin Moore paints.

SFX: DOORBELL RINGS

BLANCHE
Ohl God. I haven't finished.

ACT THREE
EXT. LANAI VERY LATE THAT NIGHT
(ROSE, DOROTHY AND COCO ARE HAVING TEA. THEY ARE IN NIGHTCLOTHES)

ROSE
Blanche needs a man. She made a date at the funeral. Oysters move. Very slowly. You have to watch very closely.
----

5stringsA

Stephen Davis' Hammer of the Gods: The Led Zeppelin Saga

Chapter 3 - The Year of the Shark

"What happened next isn't really clear. One girl, a pretty young groupie with red hair, was disrobed and tied to the bed. According to the the legend of the Shark Episode, Led Zeppelin then proceeded to stuff pieces of a shark into her vagina and rectum."
"It wasn't shark parts anyway: It was the nose that got put in. Yeah, the shark was alive! It wasn't dead!"
"But the true shark story wasn't that it was even as shark. It was a red snapper and the chick happened to be a fucking redheaded broad with a ginger pussy. "You'd like a bit of fucking eh? Let's see how your red snapper likes this red snapper? That was it."
"It was the nose of the fish, and that girl must have cum 20 times."
"No one was ever hurt. She might have been hit by a shark a few times for disobeying orders, but she didn't get hurt."

*

William Burroughs' The Wild Boys

THE PENNY ARCADE PEEP SHOW

Naked boys standing by a water hole savanna backdrop a head of giraffe in the distance. The boys talk in growls and snarls, purrs and yipes and show their teeth at each other like wild dogs. Two boys fuck standing up squeezing back teeth bare, hair stand up on the ankles, ripples up the legs in goose pimples they whine and whimper off.
----

corpodibacco

Jean came back from Rome
*********************************************

Jean came back from Rome after four days and she had an uncommon shy air about her.
During those days I had fucked her girlfriend Emma, whose husband was away too. It was news because we usually had to hide in the back of her gallery where I was employed.
The first night Emma told me immediately that Jean was not in Rome for the exam she said she had to prepare, but because she had a date with someone she had hooked on the Internet.
I knew Jean frequented a fetish chat because I had showed it to her the first time, and I knew her nickname was "Justine". The guy was certainly a master or a wannabe master with whom she referred to me as "the other master I have". We still lived together back then.
"They all want girls with big tits", I bitterly said to Emma "He will be disappointed". Then I giggled stupidly. We walked around for a little while.
Emma had started sucking my dick already at the osteria, bending under the large wooden table in the shaded corner in the back room while I sipped her wine. All she ever wanted was sucking dick. It gave me pleasure having to pull her away by yanking her hair gauging her resistance.
"I should be on my knees" she said.
"Let's go home".
Emma's lips where like small red rubber dinghies and she could blowjob you for hours on end. The first time it had started between us we were at the gallery, near closing time. She just asked me if she could suck my dick because it was a long time she hadn't had one, which wasn't even true.
So when Jean came back-- I pretty much knew what was what, because Emma had told me, and a glimpse at Jean's face at the station showed me that the thing had gone wrong and she was feeling guilty.
I had trained Jean to lick my ass during blowjobs, and she used to do it greedily, moaning passionately, and the moment I saw the uncommon shy air she had about her climbing down the train, I immediately pictured her licking that Rome guy's ass. Licking the hairy guy's ass she had never before saw in her life, for the sole sake of having given orders to obey.
Was it even clean? I thought.
We walked home, bridge after bridge. Her wheeled luggage made a hammer sound against the trachyte slabs and her round ass swayed few inches in front.
All I could think of was she, forced on her knees to lick this guy's ass, her curly reddish venetian hair gathered together by her left hand against her shoulder.
I thought about it so much that I finally had an hard-on and a little problem to walk normally. For the time we were home I just had to do something about it, so I started to stroke her innocently and she backed away.
Wait a minute, I thought. She is feeling guilty, and I could ask her whatever I want, or force her to do whatever I want and she just has to comply, if only to avert the chance of me asking questions.
In a moment she was undressed, trying to hide with her hands the fact that her cunt was completely shaved.
"What is that for?" I asked, pushing away her arms. The typical master pre-date instruction is what it is, I thought.
"I did it for you", she said-- looking down.
I slapped her on her face. "On your knees!" I said, or something equally typical. She started sobbing. My excitement was so strong I was worried about it. I was shaking. I opened the door to our room and and she walked in on all fours. Against the wall was a bamboo stick I always wanted to use.
I used it. Jean sobbed harder and finally calmed down. I took the phone wondering how to convince Emma to come over.
----