COMFORT BOYS
Jack Sprat
I was one of many Guatamala street boys rounded up in a police raid and
taken to jail. I'd guess in this raid there were about twenty boys from eight
to eighteen years old.
We were marched single file into a jail room and stood before the police
officer in charge. He warned us to obey every order and to stay silent. A
kid who snickered was ordered front and center and his butt touched with a
cattle prod. The boy screamed and stiffened, then crawled back to his place in
line.
We had to completely undress and stand naked. The officer walked down the
line inspecting each boy. Boys with crotch hair were made to take one step
forward.
Rather than regular shower spigots, we walked through a cement maze, the
spraying water coming from the side walls. To start, we completely soaped our
bodies. An onlooking guard was sure that everyone scrubbed inside their butt
crack as well as cleaned under their foreskins. We older boys, with crotch
hair, there were eight, were ordered to go through first.
Finishing and still dripping, I was taken to another room where two
uniformed guards, each with towels, dried me everywhere. Both delighted in
saying what a " hot, sexy body," I had as they freely goosed and fondled me. I
angrily called them slimy perverts and got slapped around. They decided to
take me to the basement for more discipline.
I was led down several stair wells and put into a chilly cell, joining
other older, naked teens. They all had ashen faces, most were crying and
trembling.
We all occupied the one single holding cell. Outside, across the small
room, was a heavy iron chair with leather straps. Hanging overhead, a lone
light glowed through a wire mesh reflector. Sitting next to the chair was a
bench. A wall mirror was slanted, showing what lay on its top.
Side cutting pliers. A hobby drill with exchangable bits. A plug-in
electrical probe with a forked attachment designed to touch both balls. A long
thin rubber hose to feed up the prick. A small metal egged shaped item, hinged
to clamp over a ball, using wing nuts to tighten. Razor blades for random
cutting or circumcision. Threaded, curved surgical needles for sewing. All of
this and more would be whimsically used on the securely restrained, screaming
victim.
I pictured the grinning torturer enjoying making me scream even louder.
Time passed. I was shaking from fright and crying too.
Later, there were footsteps. A large man appeared wearing a heavy
industrial leather apron. He shuffled to the chair checking all restraints,
making sure they were loose and ready. His steel, unfeeling eyes looked
through the bars where we huddled, openly crying and pleading not to do this
to us. Slowly he looked us over. We wondered who would be first. One boy had
already fainted.
As his large key slipped into the jail door lock, our guards appeared.
They gave a choice. If we chose to train as comfort boys, to be rented or sold
to other males, we'd be immediately released and taken back upstairs.
Still shaking from fright, we clung to our guards as they led our naked,
unmarred bodies upstairs.
COMFORT BOYS
II
The next day, I was taken from the jail, blindfolded, and driven a long
distance. We arrived mid-evening at a large country estate. The man I would
comfort for the weekend, was nothing like I expected. In his thirties, slim,
not bad looking. He was American and told me to call him Daryl.
The escorts departed and I was led into a comfortable den, furnished
with red carpet and black leather furniture. Daryl brought me a highball from
the bar, as well as mixing one for himself. Much of my nervousness left. I was
even beginning to like this guy.
He asked me a lot of questions on how I got here. I told him of my arrest
and described our ordeal in the jail basement. They would take me back there
if I didn't serve well this weekend. Daryl patiently and sympathetically
listened.
"I will do things to you and have you do things to me. I expect both of
us to give and receive. You will tolerate a few things, while others will blow
your mind with pleasure. I'm not one to inflict pain. Now, let's get started
with an enema.!"
Daryl entered an adjoining door that led to a bathroom. I heard several
cabinet doors close, water run, and he called me in. He had me drop my pants,
pull my shirt up a ways, grasp a towel rack, and push back my butt.. "Nice,"
he muttered, as he slid the greased hose through my crack into my hole.
While my butt filled with water, I thought it strange he used a
standard tip instead of an oversized dildo, nor was I made to completely
strip and drop to doggy fashion.
I emitted a light moan from my first water cramp. Daryl withdrew the
hose saying he didn't want me to have discomfort. Now I was to expel it, take
a shower, and he would dry me.
Still dripping, I reentered the den, handing him a towel. Drying
downwards, my foreskin was slipped back, my sensitive tip gently dried, and I
was turned, the towel digging gently, but deeply into my crack.
"You do have a hot young body," he said softly. " I should be nude too.
I want you to fully undress me."
*
I took off his shoes and slid off his socks. I removed his shirt and
undershirt, leaving him barechested. Flipping open his belt buckle, I unzipped
his pants, the open fly showing white briefs with a well filled pouch. I knelt
as he held my shoulder, stepping out of his pants. Slowly slipping down his
briefs, his red throbbing tip showed first, followed by his hard shaft and
pouch that outlined two good sized balls.
I couldn't believe this would excite me, but as I continued, my prick
just kept growing. I'd never seen a nude adult with an erection. It was
straight, not too fat, and a good length for his build. Daryl placed my
hand on it. It was hard. it was warm. Its skin slipped as I stroked it back
and forth.
I was burning with desire. I knew that Daryl was too, but he wanted
to prepare my body even farther. I lay back erect, with my legs open, while my
crotch hair was shaven all the way down to my asshole, leaving smooth, shining
baby skin. My outer butt cheeks were taken care of in the same manner. Daryl
did leave one little patch of short, black hair just above my penis, adding
to its sexy look.
I went bananas with ecstasy as slippery Abolene cream was smoothed over my
prick and balls, everthing sliding so easily. Daryl kept masturbating me. When
I really started bucking, he shoved his finger up my ass as my prick exploded.
He could not be disappointed as I spurted strong, long streams of hot white cum,
puddling my chest and flying everywhere.
Daryl had crawled over me doggy fashion, his hard-on swinging over my
face. No words were necessary. I took it, tongued it, and sucked on it while
letting him fuck in and out of my mouth. When he came, it was the first cum
I'd ever tasted.
What really gave Daryl the most pleasure was my young boy butt and
asshole. Whenever he had the opportunity, I was across his lap, his giving
my cheeks light pats, flicking directly on my asshole, finger exploring, or
licking back there as I knelt doggy fashioned. It took awhile before I accepted
licking as an OK thing to do.
As Daryl promised, he did not hurt me, but was disappointed when
finding I was too tight to fuck. He did use beads which he stuffed in, and
then slowly pulled out, one by one. He took my rectal temperature often, and
when having free playtime, inserted dildoes and butt plugs, some erotically
tight, but never hurting.
When the weekend was over, my escorts returned. I watched as Daryl met
them at the porch. They talked awhile and Daryl gave them a thick white
envelope. They drove off without me.
Calling me to the den, Daryl embraced and kissed me.
"I have paid the police. I want you to stay and be a part of my life.
I gave Daryl a tight hug back. This was a miracle and had to be a dream.
No more street life. No more jail, and gentle sex..
"I'll stay and do anything you want."
the end