Date: Fri, 10 Jun 2005 13:36:40 -0700 (PDT) From: Wesley Crusher <wesley_crusher_2001@yahoo.com> Subject: Making the Grade - Part 2 ____________________________________________________________________ This story depicts sexual acts between a 16yo teenager and a man. This story is entirely fictional. The characters do not exist and the events described never happened. If such material offends you, cease reading this document. ____________________________________________________________________ Making the Grade (Part 2) - by Wesley (wesley_crusher_2001@yahoo.com) Matt's mind was in a whirl. His mind kept flashing back to how the old teacher had massaged and stroked his most private of areas. How the mans grasping sliding fingers worked his thick and throbbing teen meat against his will. How he allowed the man to slide a bony finger up his tight hot hole forcing him to shoot his creamy teen boy juice deep into the old teachers sucking drooling mouth. He told himself what a terrible sinner he was and should confess before God in order to cleanse his soul. And yet...something deep in his arsehole itched and quivered as he replayed his molestation in his head. Every night since, the boy revisited the guilty scene trying to deny what happened and how he felt. Every night the lad had tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. And, every night he gave in and in the early hours of the mornings he reached into his bulging jockstrap pouch and grasped the thick throbbing teen meat and pleasured himself until his writhing sweating loins pumped his thick rich boy sauce into the sodden pouch. This piled further guilt upon his feverish young mind because he had been brought up to know that feeling himself up was a mortal sin in the eyes of God. ********** Coach Peterson was in a good mood. He was having an enjoyable morning taking the weights class. Nothing gave him more pleasure than watching and coaching 15 and 16 year old boys on how to improve their young bodies by working them. His motto was 'Work it good and it will work for you'. Watching young teenaged boys with their lean and nicely muscled bodies as they sweated and strained against the weights (or against anything else for that matter) intoxicated the Coach as he moved amidst the sweaty atmosphere of young male endeavour. He always made it a rule that boys should not wear anything but the skimpiest of shorts, barely large enough to hide their regulation jockstrap. No tops were allowed either. Peterson was a firm believer in letting a young male body breathe and move freely. "Please Coach, Sir- am I using this pec machine correctly?" Peterson smiled down at one of the boys as he looked up at the Coach with respectful trusting eyes. He took his time with the boy, teaching him how to sit correctly in the resistance machine, how to keep his lower stomach tight and how to align his upper chest in relation to the moving parts. By the time he had finished this, the boy had felt the Coaches big hands slide over his butt, kneaded his pelvis and linger over his chest and pecs. But he was the Coach and was a guy so everything was fine. All the boys held a hero worship for the Coach. Yes, the Coach was in a good mood. His mind turned to Matt. Now there was a handsome boy, mused the man. He had been delighted when Matt had taken him up on after class coaching in the gym. Peterson loved the innocent readiness of the boy to follow direction and not a session went by when the Coach wasn't able to feel up the boy on some pretence at guidance and tuition. In fact, Coach Peterson was was enjoying the prospect of taking the swimming class in the next few days which would afford another fine view of healthy teenage boys cavorting in their swimming briefs and more specifically, Matt in his tight lycra Speedos. He was particularly pleased with the way Matt had readily taken his advice on the choice of speedos to wear. Very brief and pale blue in color. Naturally, Peterson had stressed the need for minimising water resistance and maximising body and limb flexibility. The fact that the sheer nylon fabric and its semi translucence presented a delicious bulging suggestion of the boys hefty cock and ample balls was purely coincidental.... Coach was licking his lips absent mindedly, lost in his reverie until he was hailed by Walt, the English teacher coming toward him, a smile playing on his lips. "Hi Walt, you look like the cat who licked the cream". Peterson knew Walt for the boy loving pedophile he was but then.....in the old parlance, it took one to know one. "Actually, funny you should say that.", winked the English teacher. As Walt quietly boasted about where he obtained his cream, his smile got broader whilst Petersons face got greener. His day was no longer a good day. ******* That evening, Jack Sawyer was relaxing in front of the TV. It was nice to switch off after the long day on the building site, sweating and lifting under the hot summer sun.. Physically tired and mentally worried about Matt's progress at school, he tried to relax. Matt had already retired to bed and Jack reckoned one more beer and he too, would hit the sack. He broke open a beer and lay on the couch, his mind inevitably migrating back to his son. Apart from the standard of school work, Jack was mightily proud of his teenage son. His particular pleasure came from the way Matt readily embraced whatever his father suggested. That was how sons should be, Jack told himself. He remembered the last workout session he shared with Matt. Whilst the bench press reps had been straightforward for the big man, the boy had struggled to maintain his reps. Jack remembered watching his son's straining body, his young defined muscles in his smooth chest and abs rippling and bunching under the strain; how the sweat glistened and rolled off the lads straining shining torso; how his son's trim and finely ripped abdomen disappeared under the thin waistband of the boys worn jockstrap and how the boys sweat was soaking into the teens bulging jock pouch... At first, Jack had not been keen on Matts use of the schools regulation jockstrap during his home workout sessions, much preferring his son to wear the pair of tight lycra shorts which he had bought Matt shortly after the boys mother had passed away. But, now, he had grown to like seeing Matt in a jockstrap. He liked the way the pouch lifted and supported and the way the strap framed the boys tight globular butt.... Jack gave a guilty start as he caught himself thinking about his son's body. Then he pushed it away. And why shouldn't a Father be able to look at his sons body? It was right and proper to take pride in how his boy had developed his body. Jack's big hand was unconsciously rubbing his well packed crotch as his mind lingered on his son. The big man started to breathe more heavily as he squeezed and worked his crotch through the denim work jeans. Giving in to his burgeoning lust and sexual need, he opened his flies and hauled out his thick half hard tool. It was indeed a substantial piece of meat. Already dripping and rapidly swelling to fullness, Jack spat on his hand and worked it around and under the huge cockhead. Touching 9" long and 3" thick, the throbbing dripping log required both of Jacks meaty hands. A sudden thought occurred to Jack. Still working his massive fuck tool, he went into the bathroom where the laundry basket was. Jack picked up a pair of Matt's dirty socks. He bunched them in his fist and inhaled the sweaty intoxicating aroma that lay therein. The big man grunted into the socks as he worked his meat. And then, glancing down, he let out a moan as he noticed his sons cast off cotton bikini briefs. With greedy lust, he reached for his sons dirty underwear... ******* Upstairs, Matt was sweating and turning - sleep was taunting him. Gathering him up in it's embrace only to step way like a teasing lover. The teenager had long kicked off the light cotton bedsheet and now lay on top of the mattress, with only his jock as his usual sleeping attire. As had become a recurring habit, the lads guilty mind had revisited the scene with his English Teacher. Only this time, the teachers face had been replaced by another. A face familiar and yet not so. Finally, sleep claimed the lad... ******* As Jack Sawyer was rubbed his sons jockstrap around his fat swollen knobhead, Coach Peterson was searching his attic prior to going to bed. He knew he had the article that he bought on his travels in the Middle East many years ago. It had been sold as an artifact of 'cultural significance' and dated back to when the mighty Pharoahs held dominion over the lands. Peterson knew it for what it was; a truly marvellous antique of torture and pleasure- something truly representative of the depraved and horrific practices that were hidden behind the grandeur and magnifcence of those times. It had cost him a great deal of money, but his use of it had brought him pleasure beyond measure, as well as some lads much pain beyond measure... As he searched through the clutter in the attic, he started to fume over what Walt, had told him. How could his wonderful Matt give himself to that ugly old man? The very image of Walt's crinkly old lips wrapped around Matt's firm thick teen cock was enough to make Peterson feel physically sick. But then, he mused, he WAS blackmailing the poor lad. That's something he would never do. Rather a lad wants to do it or not. No point in forcing the boy, unless of course.....it's for his own good. Sometimes one has to be cruel to be kind... The man gave a grunt of joy. He lifted the contraption up with both hands, and looked at it. At a quick glance it looked like a metal framework resembling a low seat. Closer inspection revealed 2 things. Just below the surface of the 'seat' was a 17" phallic object made of solid metal 3.5" thick. Around its circumference were ridges and indentations. Below the front edge of the seat were two clawlike grips fashioned out of ornately carved metal. The claws and phallic piece were connected by a complex mechanism of moving parts. Connected into this whole, was a foot pedal and a lever which, when operated in sync or singly caused 3 things to happen: 1) The long thick phallic object would lift up through the seat rotating as it did so. The extent of its extension above the level of the seat was dependent upon the controls. 2) The two claws at the front would move apart, backwards and downwards under the seat. Again, the extent to which the claws dragged back and down were dictated by the controls. At each side of the seat were catches to hold an unfortunate in place. The old Eygyptian trader who sold the device explained its purpose. Peterson shuddered with a delicious frisson of lust as he remembered how the old trader told him that some depraved pharoahs would take their pleasure by using the contraption to impart unbearable pleasure at the same time as unimagianble pain whilst feeding from the cum being forced out of the tortured balls. The man imagined the scene in the dark caverns of the Pharoahs palace. In the flickering firelight from the sconces, a slave boy strapped onto the device. He could easily have been 14 or 15 as at that age, they were deemed adults. He imagined the abject fear in the lads eyes and the sweat of terror coating his panting torso as the lever was about to be moved. The screams that must have bounced off those underground walls.... Peterson closed off the image and felt his cock swell under his sweats as he contemplatd his next after school gym session with Matt. Time to really see if the boy can really make the grade he thought with a lustful malicious grin. ***** As Peterson set about oiling the contraption he had just recovered, Jack made his way to Matt's bedroom, his brain hot with lust. Pausing for a moment in front of the lads door he surveyed the boys many plaques and signs on the door. 'Keep Out', 'Invasion Free Zone', 'No Entry without permission' and 'Don't Touch'. In the grip of lust and need, Jack's lip curled slightly with a savage greed. He turned the door handle and pushed the door open. Jack Sawyer, Father of Matt Sawyer, stepped over the threshold.... ******* Matt opened his eyes. He saw blackness. The first thing he realised was that his arms was tied together above his head and that his feet were somehow immobilised and slightly spread apart. He was alone in the darkness. It was warm and not a breath of air stirred. It was almost fetid. Someone moaned and breathed heavily and Matt knew he wasn't alone in the darkness. And then, a spotlight directly above him came on. He was lit up and still the boy could see nothing in the darkness beyond the pool of light he inhabited. He saw he was wearing a tight white tank top which stopped 4 inches above his navel. He was hot and sweating. He wore tight white underwear that were so brief and made of material so thin, it barely covered his semi hard cock and full, heavy balls. On his feet were white socks. He felt vulnerable. He was alone in the light. He knew he was being watched. He knew that the darkness contained need and craving. It held lust. Against his will, that very knowledge triggered that itch deep within his anus. His heavy teen cock pushed ponderously against the thin white material of his skimpy briefs. Another murmur from the darkness and then the sound of a zip being pulled down. Something touch his butt with a feathery touch and then was gone. Matt tried to turn around but couldn't. Then, he felt a hand gently caressing the back of his knees. A lovers touch. "Don't touch me!", yelled Matt. His voice somehow muffled and absorbed by the stygian darkness. The boy tried to kick the teasing, clinging hand away only to find his feet locked in position leaving him immobilised, waiting for the next odious touch. Then, out of the darkness at knee level, an old wart covered hand emerged and, hesitantly, almost nervously reached out and stroked the lads left calf muscle. "Uugh!", shuddered the lad as he tried to shrink away from the creepy contact. Matt was beginning to pant out of fear, his wide eyes darting around, trying identify the next source of torment. As this happened, two pairs of hands crept from behind him. The top pair slowly felt up his teen chest and pinched and twisted his nipples through the tank top material. "Aaargh, Noooo!Unngh", whined the youth as his full nipples and chest were pinched and twisted mercilessly. The lower pair stroked and felt up the growing length of the boys tool trapped behind the bulging briefs. "Oh God-please no! No don't", moaned the boy as the fingers teased and played with his thick weeping tool, straining against the restricting material. A damp spreading patch was on the front of his briefs. The hands became insistent and rough, seemingly wanting to hurt and abuse and then, suddenly the top pair grabbed hold of his tank top whilst the lower pair took hold of the waistband of his briefs. Together, the hands pulled away in a shearing motion ripping the tank top from the teen exposing his smooth muscled teen chest and leaving his thick half hard cock and heavy balls swinging. The light reflected easily off the sweat covered writhing torso of the young muscled teen. Beads of clear cock juice flicked off the lad's bouncing turgid organ. Matt heard a collective moan and the sound of hands sliding back and forth on cocks. And then, the assault began. Hands came out of the darkness to stroke his firm bubble buns, to twist and tweak his full nipples, to snake between his legs from behind and pull and squeeze his full ball sack. He felt hands pulling apart his cheeks and then the feeling of a strong thick wet tongue reaming his quivering teen hole. "Aaaaargh!!! Noooooo! God!! Please- Noooooo!!! Unnnnggghh!". The boy's tormented screams of pain and forbidden pleasure was sucked away by the dark. Matt's thick 7.5" cock was fully engorged with blood a sweet clear oil oozed continuously from the bubbling piss slit to slowly and continuously fall to the ground. The boy hated it, and yet wanted it. It was odious and yet rapturous. The hands were all over his body. All ages and colors. The lad writhed and twisted his young lean torso in an attempt to avoid the clinging, grasping reaches of the hands and yet was unable to avoid the torturing ecstasy of those probing fingers. Suddenly, the hands withdrew and the boy was alone again in the light, his body semi hanging from the strain, his chest heaving and panting with effort and restrained desire. And then, a big hand emerged from the darkness at groin level, thick fingers ready to grasp and manipulate. Oh so slowly did those fingers move toward their destination. Matt looked down in dread, his heavy teen cock jerking in dreadful anticipation. "No, please..", Matt shook his head wordlessly, dreading the big hand and yet strangely craving its attention. The fingers paused momentarily to collect the slow stream of sweet precum before lightly and almost delicately smearing it over the boys throbbing cockhead and slowly spreading it along the length of the boys jerking meat. "Ooooooh! Uurgggh", gurgled the teen as the indescribably sweet sexual torment of his cock sent triggers to his churning balls to produce their sweet creamy payload. Although large, the hand was shockingly gentle, the caress firm enough to give gasping pleasure to the boy and yet soft enough to let orgasm take it's time. "Please....", whimpered the lad- his sexual need for release building to an intolerable level. He tried push his hips forward in an attempt to find heaven yet the hand always seemed to know and it would not be hurried. "Ooooooooh! Aaaaagh!!! Mmmmmm!!! God!!!!- Please", moaned the kid. Then, sensing the time had come, the other hand snaked out of the darkness and held the base of the lads dripping cock whilst the first hand concentrated on rubbing the head faster and faster -rubbing the sticky pre-fuck fluid into a white glue. The lad started to moan in a continuously increasing pitch, huge prongs of unbearable pleasure stabbing down through his cock toward his large balls to collide somewhere deep in his anus. "AAAAAARRRGGH, NOOOOOOOOO", wailed the writhing, sweating teen. The gates within his balls opened and a flood of thick creamy ambrosia shot out of the lads swollen cockhead in thick ropey strands. The lads sweating torso jerking back and forth has his teen balls churned out their creamy load. Matt's cum coated the hands as they continued to rub and manipulate his cock and balls.... ******** Jack Sawyer emerged from his son's bedroom, is eyes bright with fervour and a new light. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slowly licked his lips. The taste reminded him of the sweet and yet slightly salty porridge his Uncle used to feed him with as a boy.... He made his way to his bedroom, his hand now holding the boys jockstrap which somehow found its way off the teens body. He lay on his bed and held the pouch against his nose and inhaled deeply. It was still warm from Matt's body and the pouch held the gentle odor of a boys piss and natural genital secretions. The big man worked his large fuck log as he licked and sniffed his sons jock, moaning and grunting with heavenly lust. On impulse, he pulled his sons jockstrap on. The pouch was unable to completely cover the big mans cock. The warmth of the pouch and its impossible tightness almost made him cream there and then. He rubbed and squeezed his cockhead through the pouch material. The thought that his handsome sons cock and balls had also just been in the pouch tipped him over the edge and with a huge shudder and animal growl he emptied his man balls into the jock. He waited till his shuddering body recovered and then he removed the jock and silently went back to Matts room. He eased the dripping sodden underwear back onto his sleeping son.... He had started a journey that he meant to complete. End of Part 2 (Please let me know what you think of this story and any ideas for what may come Matts way...) Wesley (wesley_crusher_2001@yahoo.com)