Date: Mon, 31 Jan 2011 18:04:32 -0800
From: marianasdeep3@hushmail.com
Subject: Fast Cash Stripper, Part 6:  Blocking

The author's complete set of stories can be found here:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#marianasdeep
Comments and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated. You can e-
mail them to
MarianasDeep3@hushmail.com

Thanks for all the encouraging comments and suggestions.  I was
going to end this after Part 5, In Through the Out Door, but I
realized I got our hero into this mess, and I got to get him out.
I have the ending mapped out, but I could use ideas for two more
dances.  This is a double installment, inspired by a dance
suggestion and other by MacFan.  I also thank "The Captain" for
giving me insight into how a "top" thinks.  Don't get any ideas
from this and suggest S+M.  I'm not into it and won't write it.
This is more like a frat prank :) ...

I made some fast cash, but it sure was more than I bargained for.
I ended up with a belly full of cum, a lingering taste of cock in
my mouth, and a sore, leaking ass as I rode my bike home.


Part VI.  Blocking

Defeated, I turned back down the hallway toward the dressing rooms,
making first eye contact with my fellow boys who had started
congregating in the hall.  Most had their heads drooped down or
were looking away.  They had started getting ready for the next
dance, all bare-chested, most in white boxers, a few had managed to
don thigh-length black shorts.

Scooter took me by the arm again, "Come on Mark, we have a few
minutes.  Let's go down to the locker room.  I've got to fit you
into your next costume."

"Fuck it, Scooter, I'm not dancing again!" I said, and recalling
what an instigator he had been all evening, I added, "... and fuck
you, too!"

"Come on, we'll talk about it," he said, once again leading me down
the hall, me semi-pulled along with a frustrated look on my face.

When we got into the locker room, he started trying to convince me,
"Look, 3 more dances or my uncle won't pay you."

"Yeah, well you're uncle's an asshole!" I said, then, realizing I
may be insulting my friend, I added, "... sorry."

"It's o.k.  He's actually a great guy once you get to know him, a
little hard on first dancers is all."  When he saw I wasn't buying
it, he added, "Look, he looks out for his boys.  No one gets hurt
here, he sees to that."

"Scooter?!" I said incredulously, "I've been slapped twice tonight,
once by him! ... and fucked?!" I started to sob a little.

"We need to get you cleaned up," Scooter said, trying to change the
subject. "I'm not dancing again!" I replied.  "You need to get
cleaned up anyway."  He started pulling my cum-stained leotards off
my ass.  The dried cum was making them stick to my ass cheeks like
they had been glued on with Elmer's glue.  When he had me nude, he
said, "Come on, a shower will really feel great right about now."

To my surprise, he shed his black pants, whities, white dress
shirt, and black robe he had been wearing, the two of us entering
the shower nude together.  When he got the water running hot, he
grabbed the soap off the wall rack and started washing my ass,
running his fingers up and down my crack, scrubbing the cum out and
off.  For the first time of the evening, the overt sexual contact
was sensual, and all the while, he was rubbing his growing boner on
my thigh.  I sprung wood in a flash.

"Come on, dance with me ..." Scooter said.

"Alright, I'll dance.  But I'm not meeting anyone afterwards.  3
more dances and I'm done."

With that, the immediate business accomplished, Scooter grabbed two
towels.  To keep it sensual, he started drying my ass, then turned
me, drying my balls and even my cock, down my thighs to my knees,
then up my chest to my tits.  He then handed me the towel to finish
myself while he dried himself off.  I stared at his Adonis form, V-
chest, a pelvic V leading to his cock, slightly in-turned navel,
splitting a 6 pack running up to his quarter-sized tits.  Pecs and
arms ready to take on the world, at least anyone his own size.
This is the god I'd been skating with all summer, tanned, toned,
shirt off.  My urges no longer confused, I couldn't take my eyes
off of him.

Scooter broke the spell, "Here, put on your string, then these
boxers and shorts.  The boxers came down the leg only slightly more
than whities.  They oddly had a trap-door in back, but I had seen
that before on old-time underwear, usually on longjohns.  The trap
door was open, my butt and string still exposed when I put the
boxers on.  But you really couldn't see the string; the boxer's
waist band covered the string's waist band anywhere where the
string wasn't buried in my crack.  Scooter showed me how to button
the 3 buttons of the trap-door onto the boxer waist band.  Then he
handed me the shorts.  They were black, cotton-and-wool, and thigh
length like the ones some of the boys were wearing in the hall.
They had a thin leather belt through belt loops that I buckled when
I had the shorts up.  Scooter had managed to don his full length
pants and dress shirt.  He handed me a dress shirt, showing me next
how to tie a tie as he was tying his in the mirror.  He handed me a
pair of white knee-length socks and black shoes, and we both sat on
the bench putting on our shoes and socks.  Lastly, Scooter handed
me a grey tweed jacket, while he put on his black robe.  I saw
where this was going, he looked like a school master, and I looked
like a school boy in Brit private-school uniform.

When we went out into the hall, I was relieved to see that all of
the rest of the boys were dressed like me.  We lined up in the hall
with Scooter, our teacher, in front, leading us through stage-
right.  The stage had lined-up school desks facing the audience, a
teacher's desk center-stage forward, and a blackboard stage-left.
Easy enough to follow directions, we split into several lines, each
taking a desk while Scooter sat at the front desk, facing us, his
back to the audience.

Nothing could be heard over the music and crowd, but we all soon
fell into a mime of us raising our hands, Scooter picking on one of
us, that person standing as if giving an answer, and sitting back
down.  Then another and another.  Suddenly someone threw a paper-
wad at Scooter, hitting his desk.  He instantly stood up, and
several students pointed at one boy.  It was my friend Matt, though
it was clear to me he hadn't thrown it.  Scooter pointed at him,
then rolled his hand over, flex-rolling his finger to motion him to
the front.  Matt sat there bewildered until a fellow student helped
him to his feet.  He cautiously walked forward.  Scooter motioned
him around to the front of the desk and had him bend over it,
facing us, his up-turned ass facing the audience.

Scooter pulled a wooden paddle out of the desk drawer ... and my
heart sank.  Scooter reached around Matt's waist, loosened the
belt, unfastened the clasp, zipped down the fly, then pulled the
shorts off his ass, around his hips, past his knees, and down to
his ankles.  As the crowd was roaring, I looked into Matt's scared
face ... and I recollected him wearing lipstick lining up in the hall
the last time.  In my humiliation of the same, I registered that
Matt too had given a blowjob before our second dance.  My heart
sank deeper now, remembering.

Scooter unbuttoned Matt's 3 trap-door buttons slowly, deliberately,
one at a time, the crowd roaring.  With the last button undone, the
trap-door rolled back and fell off his ass.  His butt was now
exposed to the world, except for the waist band of the boxers, and
a string buried out of sight in his crack.

Scooter raised up the paddle and paddled the top of his left butt
cheek.  Matt's face winced a bit, but not unbearably.  He did not
cry out, and it wouldn't have been heard over the roaring crowd if
he had.  Scooter raised up the paddle and paddled the top of his
right butt cheek.  Again, Matt winced slightly.  Scooter raised up
the paddle and paddled across the bottom of both butt cheeks.  With
his butt now firmly paddled red, Matt was allowed to get up, and
after some thought, allowed to bend over to reach for his shorts at
his ankles, exposing his ass through the trapdoor, first to the
audience while reaching for his right short leg, then to us as he
turned to reach for the left short leg.  When he had both, he
pulled up his shorts over his butt, no time to re-button the trap-
door, the crowd laughing.

But while he was pulling up, I got to see his beautiful, tight ass,
bent over, slightly reddened ... and I wondered if it had been
fucked.  I wondered if Matt got fucked after the second dance like
I did.  I wondered to myself if Matt's butt had been used for the
first time, royally fucked before this dance, like my butt had
first been royally fucked.  I wondered if, in addition to the
stings now on his butt cheeks, his asshole ached inside, like my
asshole ached inside, a constant reminder of the cock that once
filled it.  His face red with embarrassment, I wondered if he felt
humiliated when the cock first entered his pussy, when he first
realized he was getting fucked, humiliated each time the cock
retreated and then re-entered as a thrust up his asshole, the open
piss slit eventually releasing more and more sperm deep inside him,
taking his manhood, the man's hips bouncing off the roundness of
his fleshy butt cheeks, making flopping noises that, along with the
grunts and moans, was making the fuck audible.  Did he wonder about
the sperm now knocked up inside his ass?  Was it now oozing out his
hole for the world to see?  Was his butt slapped after that first
fuck, like it had just been paddled now, a stinging and a redness
signaling that he had been taken, letting him know the conquest was
completed?  Was he told he was a good fuck?

As he walked back to take his seat, Matt's face was one of relief,
almost smiling.

Predictably, the mime continued ... and another boy was singled
out.  I didn't know him, but I remembered him wearing leotards the
last time.  My suspicions were being confirmed as each new boy was
called up.  Only the pussies were being paddled, and that
inevitably meant me.

The paper wad was thrown again, and the fingers were pointing at
me.  It was my turn as Scooter was motioning me to come forward.
As I walked forward, it seemed as if the crowd was drooling.  I
came around the desk and turned my back to them, mostly to get
their lust out of my sight.  Scooter bent me over the desk by
pushing on my back a bit, and soon I was in position, facing my
fellow boys, ass up-turned to the audience.

As Scooter was loosening my belt, unfastening the clasp, and
zipping down the fly of my shorts, I was getting turned on by his
inadvertent feeling me up.  As the shorts were being pulled off my
ass, around my hips, past my knees, and down to my ankles, I looked
at my fellow boys.  They already knew I had been fucked up the ass
because of the altercation I had in the hall with Scooter's uncle.
As each button of my trap-door was undone, and as the trap-door
fell away from my ass, exposing my butt to the world, I wondered.
Could the audience tell I had been fucked up the ass?  Could they
see the ache, the bruises around my sphincter, perhaps some
leftover cum oozing from my asshole?  I was lost in these thoughts,
forgetting what was coming next.  Suddenly recollecting what was in
store for me, I brought myself to attention.

"Scooter, don't do this!"

"Don't worry, it won't hurt."

"I'm not worried about it hurting, I'm embarrassed."

And as if he were saying "tough shit," I felt a sting on the top of
my left butt cheek, a bit harder than Matt had received; it took my
breath as an audible exhale through my nose.  The crowd was
strangely silent.  I realized the exhale really WAS audible.  I
gave them another as I felt a sting on the top of my right butt
cheek.  I heard someone in the crowd yell, "yeah!"  Then I felt a
major sting on the bottom of both butt cheeks.  As I got up
hesitantly, stinging, the crowd was laughing and cheering.  As I
was pulling up my shorts, my exposed butt, now firmly paddled red,
was aimed at the audience.  I was humiliated beyond belief again,
each jeer from the crowd felt like a thrust of a cock going up my
ass.  I turned my ass to my fellow boys while pulling up, like Matt
did.  Knowing I had been fucked, which ones of them were turned on?
 When I reached my seat, I could barely sit down, slowly.

Of course I had been saved for last.  The dance was done.  I no
sooner was seated and I had to get back up again, stinging.  Each
step was hesitant as I was walking off stage-left.

Coming off stage-left, I turned right to go into the locker room at
that end of the hall, to change out of this ridiculous Brit
schoolboy uniform.  And once again, Scooter had other ideas,
grabbing my arm, "Come with me."

"Scooter, I told you.  Dances only.  Two more and I'm done."

"Yeah, but your consent form ..."

"Fuck my consent form!  I never agreed to all those names signed
below mine, just the first guy to get a blowjob.  How many names
are on that list, anyway?"

"I think 5."  Scooter replied, "but I can't remember if Edison was
part of the 5, or if we added him after that.  That was a bit of an
emergency, ya know, with the cops and all."

I myself had recollected 5 or 6 on the list.  The list was only
flashed at me, but if I were to guess, I would have said the 6.  It
seemed irrelevant to me anyway, "How do I know that more and more
aren't signing right now?"  I asked to expose the stupidity of the
whole thing.

"My uncle keeps it to 5.  Five fucks are about all anyone can take
in an evening, or at least should take." Scooter replied, then
added as if I believed him, "Remember, he takes care of his boys."

"No go." I said.

Scooter stopped pulling me along, turned me to face me.  "You've
got to finish your list.  The next one is Mr. Carlito...," he paused,
waiting to see if I understood.  I did, but he asked, "Do you know
who Mr. Carlito is?"

"Yes, of course."  Carlito was one of the leading mob bosses in the
Vegas area.  Everyone knew that, if from nothing else, the
newspaper.

"Don't fuck with the Italians, Mark."  Scooter advised with
seriousness.

"That's my point, Scooter, I wasn't planning to fuck with any of
them." I said, half joking, but truthfully.

"I'm serious, Mark.  My uncle can assure your safety here.  But not
out there."  Scooter said, pointing toward the back door.  I
started getting really scared.  Was he suggesting they would find
me?  If so, what would they do?  Have their fuck and then leave me
alone?  Or would they kill me?

"OK, but I've got to know how this is going to work.  Look, I've
already fucked two.  There's only time while waiting for two more
dances.    How do I fuck a 5th guy?"

"You stay after the last dance.  In fact, you sleep here tonight.
My uncle and I will give you a ride home in the morning."

"Are you kidding me?  I'm going to sleep with a guy the rest of the
night?"

"Only if you want to, you can let him just fuck you, and then go
sleep where you want."

"I want to sleep in my own bed tonight," I said exasperated, "Can
you work it out so I can leave at 2 am?"

"Mark, don't be an idiot.  My uncle and I are staying here.
There's lodging for you here tonight.  The buses don't run at 2 am,
in fact it's after midnight already.  Without the bus, it's 15, if
not 20 miles home by bike."

"I'm exhausted Scooter.  Can you work it out so I can go straight
to bed after the last dance?"

"I'll see what I can do."  With that Scooter opened the door to my
next session.  I walked in wearing a schoolboy uniform, surprised
to see two people in the room.  I turned to protest to Scooter, but
he had already closed the door and left.

I looked at my two guests, then got an unsettled feeling as I
recognized one of them.  "Mr. Samuels?" I asked knowingly.  He had
given me my first blowjob ... and my first-ever taste of cock.

"Hi Mark, how's it going?"

"Fine ... I guess ... Who's this?" I asked motioning to the other
man in the room.

"This is Mr. Carlito."  I got unnerved, like a shadow just crossed
my heart.

"Why are YOU here, Mr. Samuels?" I asked, remembering that Scooter
said I would be fucking Mr. Carlito.

"Paul promised me first dibs on your ass, after we ran out of time
our first time together.  Remember?  We only had time for a
blowjob?" Mr. Samuels replied.

"Paul?  Who's Paul?" I asked, truly not knowing.

"Hah!" Mr. Samuels laughed, "You mean you haven't even been
introduced yet?  He's only the fucking owner of this joint."

"Oh, Scooter's uncle ..."

"Yeah, Scooter's uncle."

That was all side banter, he knew it, and I knew it.  It was time
to ask the question at hand, a question I had an unsettled feeling
about.  I reluctantly broached the topic,"Which one of you am I
fucking?"

"Correction, which one of us is going to fuck you?"  Mr. Samuels
restated my question, then waited an eternity to answer, knowing I
didn't really know what was going on, and didn't want to know
anyway, "... Both of us are going to fuck you."

My jaw dropped open in surprise, to which Mr. Samuels added, "Paul
told me you needed a little more breaking in."  I was speechless,
surprised with myself that I couldn't utter what I was thinking,
"No way?!  How am I going to get fucked by two guys?"

Mr. Samuels seemed to know I needed direction, "Come over here,"
patting the bed.  I reluctantly walked toward him, "Hands and knees
on the bed," and as I was slowly complying, "Stick your ass out
over the edge of the bed, you know, kneeling over your shoes."

I was in position, but still dressed in my schoolboy shorts, shirt,
shoes, knee socks, and tweed jacket.

"Mr. Carlito, do you want to go first?" Mr. Samuels asked him,
looking across the room.

"No, I'll settle for sloppy seconds." Carlito said with a slight
laugh.

"I'm afraid we'll both be getting sloppy seconds." Mr. Samuels
informed him, "This boy's already been fucked."

"Already been fucked!?  By whom?" Carlito asked, pissed off.

"Edison."  Mr. Samuels replied.

"Fucking pigs.  What do I need to do?  Increase their paychecks?"
Carlito asked, then continued his questioning, "I thought you had
first dibs on his ass this evening?"

"We only had time for a blowjob."  Mr. Samuels answered, then
asked, "Do you want to undress him?"

"No, go ahead.  I need to get ready, ... But leave his coat on,
shoes and socks too.  Just pull his shorts down and push his shirt
and coat up." Carlito answered.

I looked across the room at Carlito as he undressed.  At least he
wasn't a fat mafia don like in the movie The Godfather, in fact he
was quite athletic looking, in a bulldog sorta way.  I imagined he
had seen enough fights in his lifetime.  Then I felt Mr. Samuels
unbuckling my belt, unfastening the clasp on my shorts, and zipping
down the fly.  Remembering how Scooter had done that onstage,
inadvertently feeling me up, and I started getting hard again.
When Mr. Samuels pulled the shorts off my ass, he saw that the
trapdoor was still down, exposing my ass to the both of them for
the first time.  Mr. Samuels patiently buttoned it back up, one
button at a time, deliberately.  But then he grabbed the waist band
of the boxers and pulled them down too, having to reach around to
lift the waist band off of my boner in front.  Next the string was
pulled out of my crack, and by grabbing the waist-string, pealed
off my ass.  He pealed the pouch off my hard cock, giving it a
quick feel, and gathered the boxers and string along with the
shorts down at my thighs, "The boy's excited."

He pulled the shorts and underwear down to my knees, bunching them
up at the 90-degree angle my upper legs were making with my lower
legs.  With the shorts and underwear bunched up around my knees, I
couldn't move them to separate my legs.  My shirt tail was covering
my butt.  Mr. Samuels lifted the shirt tail off my upturned ass to
the base of my jacket, and then pushed both the shirt and jacket up
my back, exposing not only my butt once again, but thighs, skinny
hips, and hard cock.

Then I heard a "wack" and was surprised by an instant sting on the
top of my left butt cheek, making me cry out.  Oh my God, the
paddle had made it into the room.  The wack was harder than the one
I had gotten on-stage from Scooter, and the sting mixed with that
first one on my already reddened butt.  Then a second "wack" and I
felt an instant sting on the top of my right butt cheek.  "Ahh,
stop!" I said crying.  Then a third wack and a major sting on the
bottom of both butt cheeks.  As on stage, the third was the last,
but it was also the hardest and left me sobbing this time.  I
lifted off my hands and started straightening my back while still
on my knees to relieve the stinging.  Carlito was now nude and
walking over to the bed in front of me, facing Mr. Samuels behind
me.  Carlitos cock was long, but not fat, swinging from side to
side with each stride.

Complimenting Mr. Samuels, Carlito started instructing Mr. Samuels,
"Yeah, that's what every schoolboy needs.  Get him on all fours
again and mount him like a bitch in heat."

Mr. Samuels already had his clothes off too, though I didn't see
him undress behind me.  He grabbed the heels of my shoes sticking
off the bed, reminding me he was back there.  I already knew his
cock size, having given him a blowjob earlier in the evening, and I
wasn't looking forward to getting fucked by him.  His cock wasn't
as long as Edison's, my first fuck, but it was fatter.  I was going
to be opened wider.  Mr Samuels spread my ankles wider than my
knees trapped in my bunched up shorts, and walked in between them.
He leaned in between my ankles, behind me, his cock making first
contact with my butt cheeks, wiping precum on them.  Something
about this position, ankles spread wider than knees, opened my
crack and spread my butt cheeks, exposing an open asshole,
outermost and higher than the rest of my butt.  Ready for the
taking.

"I love this position.  You don't even need lube, especially if
he's been fucked recently." Mr. Samuels told Carlito.

The cock wiped across my butt one last time, settling on my crack
only momentarily before it took the plunge in, then immediately up
my asshole.  I let out a wimper as the thrust lifted my ass off the
bed.  In this position, my sphincter offered no resistance as I
took his entire shaft in one thrust.

"Hold on tight to his skinny hips as you fuck him.  Get your sperm
deep inside his body!!" Mr. Carlito encouraged.

As if to answer Carlito, Mr. Samuels said in my ear, but for both
of us to hear, "I'm gonna blow my load of jizz deep inside your
fuckhole, and breed you like a little girl."  With that, he started
the fucking.  My ass was taking a real pounding, his fat shaft
opening my asshole wider than it had ever been.

"Buttfuck him! hard!" Carlito yelled as I finally got used to the
cock and its pounding rhythm.  Then to me, quieter, "Here kid, I've
got something for ya."

I had been looking back at Mr Samuels, trying to get used to the
rhythm of the cock entering my ass.  When I looked forward to see
what Carlito was offering, I met his cock, hitting my cheek just
below my eye.  I flinched in surprise, but Carlito was already
wiping precum on my face.  "Come on, open up."  I couldn't believe
it!  I'm going to suck cock while getting fucked?!

Carlito slapped my face as if answering my thought "yes."  Damn,
third time slapped tonight.  I opened and instantly had his cock in
my mouth.  I was taking cock and tasting cock at the same time!  I
just couldn't believe I had cock in both ends.

"You suck on that for awhile, and then I'm gonna blast a load of
sperm all over that bitchboy face of yours. Don't worry, I'll let
you take a few squirts in your mouth, and I'll rub the rest in too.
We'll get to watch you lick it up and drink it down."

I was sputtering for air again, getting used to the taste of cock
again, all while feeling my ass repeatedly stuffed.  "Yeah, that's
it pussyboy.  Feel yourself getting fucked."

Carlito continued to Mr. Samuels, "I can totally see how hot it is
fucking this kid doggy-style.  He's not too skinny and has that
nice boychest to hold onto while you buttfuck him hard!"  With
that, I felt Mr. Samuels twisting my tits.

Carlito continued, "Awesome!  But personally, I like fucking my
boys on their backs, with their legs up and wrapped around me, and
my cock shoved up their boycunt, pounding them like a girl.  Lets
them know their place, as a legs-spread slut."

"That sounds great!"  Mr. Samuels replied.

"Yeah, turn him over and baby fuck him.  It is nice to watch them
sob."

Carlito pulled my jacket and shirt off as Mr. Samuels pulled his
cock out of my ass.  He untied my shoes and pulled them off,
leaving my knee socks on.  Then grabbed the bunch of shorts,
boxers, and string at my knees and pulled them off.  While he
worked, his cock was still erect.  It had cum a little, and was
shiny, impatiently waiting to get back inside my boycunt it was
aimed at.  I was flipped over, completely nude except for my knee
socks, and my legs were spread.  Carlito came around and lifted
each leg up and over Mr. Samuel's back on each side as he got into
position.

The cock re-entered my asshole.  For the first time, I was fucked
on my back, legs spread and wrapped around his back, pinned down by
his weight.  I felt like a whore.  Carlito came back around and
kneeled over my head, and his cock went back into my mouth, face
fucking me.  Mr. Samuels didn't last long after that.  The rhythm
changed to slower, longer bounces, each thrust with a pause while
the cock released two or three volleys of sperm deep inside me,
then another bounce and pause with yet more cum.

Carlito didn't last long either.  Soon my mouth was filled with cum
as he pulled out and wiped his pulsing cockhead on my face, as
promised, smearing and then pushing the sperm into my lips.  Any
cum I managed to expel, he just pushed back into my mouth.  Most of
it went down my throat to join the sperm from two previous blowjobs
that evening.

There was a knock on the door, but unlike the first time when Mr.
Samuels was interrupted, the door remained closed.  "The kid's on
in 15 minutes."

"We're not done yet.  Give us 10 minutes.  If necessary, the kid
will be late to the stage."

"Yes sir," came the voice through the door.

Carlito looked at me, "Get your mouth back on my cock to get it
hard."

While I was suckling his cock, lying on my back, he told me what
was in store, "This won't take long, kid.  I'm going to flip you
over and shove it up your tight little boycunt. I'm gonna fuck you,
hard, like the little bitch you are.  My guess is that you're going
to squirt your boycream just from getting your boypussy fucked."

Keeping his word, he flipped me over onto all fours, into the
position where my sphincter offered no resistance.  He directed his
next comment to Mr. Samuels, but it was meant for me, "I'm gonna
drive my cock up his tight lil ass, oh yeah!"

In that position, fucked twice already that night, and with
Carlitos' cock thinner than Mr. Samuel's, my ass offered no
resistance.  But Carlito was longer.  He entered slowly only
because the length of cock made it bendy, even when hard.  But once
he was in, he started pile driving my ass.  He was opening up new
depths inside me.  I was wimpering with each thrust.  "Yeah, listen
to the bitch pleading for it."  What was weirding me out:  I
couldn't deny it.  I wanted it.  I wanted him to fuck me?!  He knew
that, and told me what to say.  Say "fuck me."  With his control
over me, I instantly replied, "fuck me!"  Not only replied,
repeated over and over with each wimper:  "fuck me, fuck me, fuck
me, fuck me ..."  A few more pile drives in this position, and he
flipped me over again.  "Remember, I like fucking my boys on their
backs ... so they know their place."

My legs were lifted not just over his back, but with my knees over
his shoulders.  Rolled up, he rested his weight on the backside of
my thighs, trapping me under.  Again it took awhile to get his
bendy hard-on in me.  But once he was all the way in, he went to
town.  My cries of "fuck me" resumed:  "fuck me, fuck me, fuck me
..."  Soon the thrusting slowed to single, long thrusts, with a
pause after each one.  I knew that with each pause, he was busting
a nut into my boycunt.  My third fuck of the night, his sperm was
joining Mr. Erickson's and Mr. Samuels' already up my butt, into a
mix of the same DNA as in my stomach.

When he got back up, he and Mr. Samuels started getting dressed as
I tried to lower my legs back down to the bed.  I lied there on my
back when suddenly I noticed a small pool of my own cum near my
navel.  It wasn't a lot of sperm from a hard cum, but I had clearly
had an orgasm, just from being fucked.

Carlito looked at my cum, "He sure did enjoy himself.  As for this
little bitchboy?  I don't think tonight was his first.  With an ass
like that to draw them in, I'm sure he's been getting it up his
boycunt from someone for sometime."

And with that they left room.