DISLCAIMER: IF YOU ARE NOT OVER 18 YEARS OLD DO NOT READ THIS AND LEAVE
THIS NEWSGROUP. THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY AND THE CHARACTERS DO NOT
REPRESENT ANY REAL LIVE PERSON OR PERSONS.

******************************************************************************

The Freshman
Written by Glaucon55

Comments or suggestions to Glaucon55@aol.com

I've been in the Lamba house for two years, a junior coxswain on the crew
team.  Coming to Agustana College was the smartest move I could have made.
This small town college was perfect for me, and once you paid your fees,
they pretty much made sure that you didn't flunk out.  As for joining the
crew team, where else could you work out with guys over six feet tall, with
fine legs, muscular arms and built chests, who were half nude and wet most
of the time.  Jesus I loved walking into the showers after morning
practice, especially in the winter.  Beef would fill the small dump we
called a boat house on the lake, and between the whirls of steam, I could
see and smell the guys around me.  As for me, well I'm 5'5", 134lbd, built
like a small town full-back, with size 8 feet, and a size 8 cock.  My eight
inches curves wickedly to the right, with a fat plum on the end and
surrounded by the black Irish hair that covers my head, is under my arms,
trails down my chest, dusts my arms and legs, and is thick up the crack of
my ass.  My skin is pale, and ruddy, but during the summers I darken enough
to get that black Irish tan with a pale, pink butt and feet.

I made sure that when we returned this past fall, I was assigned a junior
college transfer who pledged the house for a roommate, and my luck was that
he was coming out for crew.  Now the coxswain is in charge of the team in
the boat, and one of the reasons they chose me was cuz I love giving those
big goofs orders and tons of shit.  It's a rush watching those big hunks do
whatever I tell 'em, and getting to chew out their asses if they make
mistakes while we're on the water.  Sometimes, when they really fuck up, I
tell 'em the only way to get back into my good graces, and the coach's, is
to meet with me for some private practice.  The guys know that if they
come, it's part of a come on, and I haven't missed yet.  These guys enjoy
the thought of me taking charge, and I enjoy the fact that some of these
dick brains just want someone to tell them what to do.

A week ago, I had Riley Kramer in my room, working on more than his stroke,
if you know what I mean.  I had the big son of bitch stretched out against
a rack on my closet door, tied to the four corners, with a quill feather in
my hand, and him gagged. His big arms were stretched over the edge of the
door, and secured so his hands could wiggle, but his body was completely
vulnerable and exposed.  His jutting tits rubbed against the rough pad I
have attached on the upper part of the door, irritating the buds and making
them pink and stiff.  Standing next to the big oaf, I took the quill and
slowly dragged in up and down his muscled sides.  He groaned and hiccuped
behind his gag, and when I took the sharpened end and scratched it in his
hair tufted pit, he jumped to his toes, and clenched his butt, wrenching
against his bonds desperately trying to avoid the maddening tickle.  I
alternated from side to side, and then used one in each hand from behind
him so I could work both exposed arm pits at the same time.  He looked like
an oversized puppet, dancing on his toes, and wrenching to twist from the
quills.  I thought he might pull the door off the hinges, but I had made
sure that door was strong and fixed to the frame.  A high pitched whine and
gasps came from behind his gag, along with choked pleading when he could
catch his breath.  There's something wonderful about a guy whose dick gets
stiff when he's tied up, and he voluntarily submits to a work out session
with me in charge.  Each time I get Riley secured, my cock starts dripping
scum in my briefs and aches from how hard it gets.

After letting him rest for a few moments, I got down on my knees behind
him, and worked the inside of his thick, hairy thighs, drawing the quill
along the taught muscles.  When I was sure from his squealing he was
exhausted from my use of the quill, I gently picked up a wicked little
glass rod, covered like the body of a bee, with little bristles.  I brought
the thing up to Riley's face, so he could see it.  A guy in Chemistry made
it for me.  Riley's eyes widened, and more perspiration dripped down the
side of his face and from under his arms.  He knew where the rod was going.
I dipped the furry tip into a green gell which I had purchased over spring
break in New Orleans.  Then I gently lowered myself to my knees, behind
Riley's taut butt cheeks.  I blew into his crack, then gently used my
fingernail to scratch at the hairy line.  Riley thrust himself against the
closet, and his dick, sticking through a hole I had in the door, waved hard
and helplessly---drooling long streams of clear pre-scum to the floor.
Finally, I parted the thick cheeks, and gently but insistently scratched
and probed until I inserted my finger up into his hidden portal.  With my
finger lubed with grease, I tickled and rubbed his ass lining, until the
blunt digit wormed its way slowly up the resisting hole.  I could hear
Riley gasp, then groan from behind his gag--- aaaahhh
hhhh.....mmmmmmmm....mmmpppphhh -when my fingernail gently grazed his hard
little prostrate.  Nothing like having a big boy dangling on your finger,
his ass feeling stuffed and his sore little nut getting poked and prodded.
Again he banged against the door, but there was no where to go.  For
several minutes, I gently frigged the big junior's butt hole, making sure
to touch all his most sensitive spots while he gasped and groaned from the
need to cum, scum burping from the big pisshole in his dork each time I
rubbed his joy nut.  On the other side of the door, the big cock waved like
a flag pole in the breeze, covered with the fuck slime I was massaging out
of him, aching for a rough fist to relieve the swelling in his fat, hairy,
balls.  Good I love the smell of ball sweat and jizz starch.

Without warning, I slid my finger out of him. Then holding the cheeks open
again with one hand, I slowly but deliberately inserted the furry rod
coated in the slimy gel.  The thin rod is only five inches long, just
enough to get up Riley's butt, but not long enough to hurt or damage
him. Once it was in, and I could hear old Rile groaning from the sensation
of the ticklish little bristles screwing against the lining of his ass, I
began sliding it back and forth.  After about a minute or two, I screwed
the base end of the rod into a harness made of leather which held it
securely in place so he could not shit it out of his hole.  The tickling
bristles scratched and scraped in a maddening fashion along the soft lining
of Riley's manhole, and the green gell slowly began to take its effect.
Then I snapped a electric cord into a socket at the base, and went to a
small console sitting on the floor where it was connected.  The console was
the old generator from my electric train when I was a kid. Still worked
like a charm.  I had used it first in this new role when I was in high
school with some wires and clilps on the tits, balls, and foreskin of a
dumb baseball player from our summer league team that I got drunk and took
to my parents cabin one New Year's Eve.  He was about twenty years old, and
worked as a garage jockey in the town next to ours.  By the time I was
through, the dick-wad had sucked his own cock to two giant cums, while the
charge ran from his big toe, his tits and his balls.  He had a long think
dick, and I'll bet he still sucks his own cock after I was through showin'
him how good he could make himself...yeah!

Now, with some improvements, that old generator still worked to provide the
power to my new toys. I turned up the dial slowly, and as I did so, the rod
pulsed in Riley's butt, and began to jiggle.  As it jiggled, so did Riley,
boucing on his toes like a man with a bee up his butt.  I loved watching
the way his big feet strained to lift him up, as if to do so would relieve
the maddening buzzing up his fuck hole.  The big body bounced and banged,
and I knew the fat dicked fucker was in heaven.  This was the part of his
training that he craved and longed for.  The rumors about old Riley were
all true.  One of the guys in the boat had double-dated with him and leaned
over the back seat to see old Riley with his head back and his dick down
the throat of his date and her long nailed index finger rooting up his shit
shute.  Conner said Riley was totally in her control, head lolling back,
shorts around his feet, dick rock hard down her vacuuming throat, and her
finger frigging him out of his mind. Another guy who got Riley drunk, took
him home, and had tied his legs over his head and butt frigged Riley for
the good part of a night, making him cum three times without ever touching
the big goof's cock.  He said he loved the way Riley howled for someone to
jerk his meat, but blasted cum anyway from the sensations up his hole.

Tonight though, I had a special treat to join with the thorough massage his
prostrate was receiving from the maddening bristles.  I sat cross legged
around the other side of the door, and picking up and old electric
toothbrush.  I leaned around the edge of the door to let him see me switch
it on.  Riley's got this thing about his nine inches of prick.  He can take
all the rough fist sliding you can give him, but he can't stand any
scratching or chaffing of his fat prick tip. Actually, that's what he digs
the most, but he can't cum that way, just stay hard and drool with the
tickling sensations on his fat knob driving him crazy.  I dipped the end of
the whirring toothbrush into the gel, then I took his log into my hands,
bending the upcurved scimitar down slightly to work the bristles over and
around the thick flange and the bulbous, meaty tip.  Now old Riley bounced
and strained to pull his prick away from the bristles whirring back and
forth across his knob.  Bbbbbbuuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....went the
sound of the brush as it I put it back and forth on old Riley's fuck stick.
I stood up and removed his gag, while I held the brush at his piss lips,
and roiled it back and forth on his circumscision scar.  I wanted to hear
each squeal, and his futile pleading.

He didn't disappoint.  "Aaaaaahhhh fuckkkkkkkk, jeeeezzzzzz, ooooooohhhhh,
Mack......., pllllleeeeeaaaasssseeee, get that thing outta my butt, I can't
take it.......oooooooohhhhh, those bristles, sssssshhhhiiiiitttt!  Getta it
outta me, aaahhhhhhhh.....my, nut, my button, it's killin'
meeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaiiiiiiiieeeee!"  Daaaammmmnnn...my
knob...nooooo... nnnnnnooooottttt my prick....nnnnooottt my big dick....my
dick........its soooooo... helplllllesssss....nnnnooooo...mannnnn... ya
gotta let me goooooo...aaaaaahhhhhh... jjjjeeeeeezzzzz you're working
meeeeee, you're torturin' my big old dick knob.... aaaaaaggggghhhhh!  The
last cry came out as a high pitched squeal when I put the whirring bristles
of the toothbrush right on the top of the head of Riley's unprotected fuck
pole.  I basted the dick head with gel, which causes harmless little red
bumps to develop all around the knob that itch like a million little
mosquito bites.  Riley almost went mad, when the itching inside his
asshole, which was alternately soothed and inflamed by the bristles up his
shit shute, was added to the same sensation on his cock tip.  I used my
alternate thumb from the hand holding his dick, covered with a smooth, soft
cotton finger glove, to gently rub where the stiff bristles of the electric
toothbrush angrily agitated his prick tip.  I wondered if Riley would go
hoarse.  He did begin to babble:

"MACK! Pppppllllleeeeaaassseee mmmmaaaaaannnnnn, aaaaagggggghhhhhhhh,
nnnnnnnoooooooooo....not my prick heaaaadddddddd.......nnnnooooooooooo... I
caaaanannnnnn't take it
maaaaannnnnn.....pppleeeaaasseeee.....oooooooooohhhh fuck, ohhhh
shit........yyyyyyooooooooouuuuuu got meeeeeeee mmaaaaannn.... I'll do
anything......pppplllleeaaaaseeee....tell me what you want me to
do.......... PLEASE MACK.....tttteeeel mmmeeeeeee......!"

I responded appropriately.  "Riley, buddy, you gotta big dick and a small
brain.  For the next week, your dick is mine...understand you moron?  I got
this cock cage with your name on it.  For the next two weeks, you don't cum
unless I let you.  And when you do, it'll be cause I let you jerk your meat
in front of me with a finger or a vibrator up your butt.  You're gonna
spend the nights here, and when you go to bed, I'll tie your hands and feet
down, and put a tent over your cock so the sheets won't touch you...and
that dick better be hard and wet from need.  If you have any wet dreams,
then I'll borrow a bottle of mosquitos from the Bio Lab and stick your
prick tip into it so they can feast on your knob...then I'll use some gel
and my finger gloves with the denim tips or bristle tips to work you over,
without letting you cum (that fantasy always got his dick on the verge of
squirting).  You got it dickwad?  Does that little brain get the
message....no soothing those bull balls without my permission and
supervision.  Someone needs to supervise that dick day and night...and I'm
the guy to do it!"

Riley acquiesced right on schedule.  OOOHHHHH FUCK MAAAACCCCK!  I'll do
anything you
saaaaayyyyy.....aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh....aaaaagggggggghhhhhh... you just tell
me....I'm yours maaaaaaannnn....you can do anything....you know my dick is
always haaaarrrdddd...pppppllllleeeeaaasseeee, Mack, you can supervise my
prick, I need it......just telllllll
mmmmmeeeeee....aaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeee..... what you want....aaaaannnnd, just
let me cum this once, oooooohhhhhh plllleeeeaaaseeee, just lemme cum...my
balls are killing me!  My dick is yours mannnnn...my dick is
yours......ppppllleezzzzz, take control of my big hard dick Mack.....I need
to be controlllllled.....aaaaaaaggggghhhhhhhh!"

His cock was completely swollen, the knob was covered in bumps and sloppy
with gel and pre-cum.  The slut was ready.  I stood up and put the
toothbrush down, then turned off the vibrator up his quim.  He looked
shocked, he pleaded with me to finish him.  I told him I would.

Within five minutes, his feet were tied over his head and his wrists were
tied to the corners of my bed head.  I put a bolster under his lower back
to support him.  I had trussed his legs back until his dick tip was just
over his mouth.  I carefully cleaned the gel off his prick knob, but the
angry bumps would not go away.  Now, without any soothing ministrations,
they were pebbled and hot to the touch.  I picked up an anal probe, and
slid it gently home with more gel on it, then turned on the vibrator,
making sure to fuck him just right grazing and bumping his fuck nut deep up
his butt.  Using a bristle glove, I let him fuck my fist with his itchy
cock. He fucked like a champ, driving that curved cock back and forth so
the stiff bristles would soothe his cock and dick head.  I would open the
fist though, just enough to prevent him from getting relief too quickly.
"Open your mouth sperm breath, time for your vitamins...." He howled, and
opened his mouth the best he could between gasping for breath and yelling
for me to make him cum.  I made him promise to let me gag him and tickle
his toes until his dick shot from the tickling alone, and to suck my toes
for the rest of the semester whenever I asked him to, especially on the
floor under a carol in the library.  When he agreed to do it all, then I
gave him the relief that he was begging for.

One last twist of my fist around the distended dork, and the scum began
rocketing out of the tip.  I jabbed the probe against his protrate and let
the vibrator wring the stuff out of him.  I aimed the jerking dong toward
his mouth, and he slurped and lapped and gulped, swallowing down ten long
shots of thick, white cum, and all the slimy dreggs, I kept nursing his
flange and the piss lips with the bristles until he finally almost jumped
out the restraints.  Riley's gonna make some girl a good husband in a few
years, and I intend to make sure he's "up" to the challenge.


Crew Team Discipline Part-II
Written by Glaucon55

Comments or suggestions to Glaucon55@aol.com

As much as I liked my sessions with Riley.  It was the freshman stroke that
was assigned to me that made my junior year a dick dripping success.
Spencer Harding III was eighteen years of Missouri cream, who came to me
for training.  He had heard that getting onto the team meant working with
me, and after years of conservative home life he was looking for any port
into which to shoot his scum.  Without having to admit to any inappropriate
feelings, Spencer could get his needs taken care of and still be just one
of the guys.  After all, this was college, and when you have to go through
the rituals, what's a guy gonna do?

Spencer Harding III was just as tasty as he could be.  He was blond, six
foot three, size twelve feet, and a dick that was seven inches of perfectly
formed Catholic prick whose guilt had kept it outta his fist and girl's
pussies.  Sure he'd gotten a blow job once at a gas station out of town
when he was drunk, and Jenny Holcomb had jerked him off once, and let him
rub against her so hard while they made out senior year that he'd creamed
his jeans several times.  But most of the time, without realizing it, he
would walk around with a half hardon.  A boy like that needs to be trained
and supervised, and I was the little man to do the job.

The first week he was in school, I sized him up.  The warmth of the early
Fall saw him tanned and bleach blond.  His buzz cut contrasted to the thick
whorls of blond hair on his forearms, legs, fingers, toes, pits and ass.
Around his dick, the hair was thick and blond, but it framed his balls,
which hung like duck eggs in a sack below.  Jeez he was hairy, but in a
clean, glowing way.  Those thick ass cheeks were covered in curly hair,
which sunk deep into his crack.  His cock was slightly curved up, and I
learned that when it got hard, so did the curve; topped by a oversized
helmet with a wide flange.  I wondered how he'd get that thing inside some
girl's cunt, with a head that wide, he'd have to pry it in.

The Saturday after our first home football game, I made sure that Riley and
a couple of other guys on the crew got Spence good and tanked.  He'd let on
that anything went as long as he didn't have to remember it.  I understood
his meaning perfectly.  He was open game, just as long as it was just
between the guys.  He was hooting and howling, his baseball cap on
backwards, his shirt unbuttoned and his nipples jutting from his chest.
Once during the night, I saw Riley grasp one of Spence's nips in jest, and
the kid doubled over as if someone had hit him with a bolt of electricity.
Those titties were going to get a good work-out before the end of the
semester.  But in their virgin condition they were all the more ripe for
plucking.  He later told me that a buddy had discovered just how sensitive
his tits were during his junior year in high school.  They'd go to the
drive-in to talk smack about girls, but his buddy always managed to get his
hands into his shirt and play with his tits.  It never went beyond that,
but he'd go home with a huge, sticky hardon that sometimes got relieved of
a giant load in a wet dream.  He didn't think anything of it, but his buddy
never seemed to miss a chance to get his shirt unbuttoned, and his rough
fingers plying Spence's pointy nubs in their dare/jock games.

Around 1:00 am, Riley and Carl Bendix brought the kid upstairs, stumbling
and weak kneed.  He was drunk as a skunk, and couldn't stand without help.
They dumped him on his bed, and winked at me as they left.  I closed and
locked the door.  It was time for Spencer to start his college education.
I went to the bed and pulled off his high top sneakers and crew socks.  His
feet were damp, but not dank.  No scent of athlete's foot, or evidence of
hard callous; just clean strong jock feet that had run and worked out hard.
I'd watched him in the house basketball games, and liked the way his big
feet fit into his high tops, and how when he was bare foot, his pale feet
muscled his flip-flops.  The narrow heels, high arch and strong ankles were
just my style, with long curved toes at the ends of the broad balls.  I
scratched a nail up one foot, and in his stupor he still jumped, pulling
the sensitive foot away from the sensation.

I pulled off his shirt, then went for the baggy shorts.  He tried to push
my hands away, saying he was OK, but I knew he was more concerned about the
boner he had in his briefs, than anything else.  He didn't want me to
embarrass him.  I shoved his hands away, and pulled the shorts off, leaving
his worn briefs with their swollen cock on.  There was a large wet stain
where his piss slit had leaked all night, and the smell of starch was in
the air.

He burbled something unintelligent when I fastened his hands to the top of
the bed frame, and was surprised when I looped his big legs over a bar
which magically came from the ceiling of his own room, suspended by cables!
Then I attached the legs, spread wide, and pushed the bar towards his chest
so the legs splayed and the pink rosette of his ass pucker was just barely
revealed behind the riot of blond curls that clung damply to his crack.  I
gave him one more drink, one laced with a potion I got on a trip to Mexico,
that made him sappy and horny at the same time; safe but effective.  In a
minute, his nine inch dick curved up, wetting the top of his briefs, then
poking up and out of the band, dripping clear pre-scum into his navel.

I started with his feet.  His ankles were attached to the bar, and pulled
back toward his chest as they were, they left his size twelve feet facing
the ceiling.  Spence's youth and innocence were evident.  His feet were
smooth and soft, high arched, heavily muscled, and with only the scent of
sweat...more appealing than anything.  You could see that these pale
monsters had carried him for eighteen years without being molested.  I drew
my pudgy index finger up and down, the wide digit and rough nail, scratched
and scabbarded over his sole, up into his instep, and under the long, thick
toes.  Spencer, did not know how to react.  He was ticklish, but I don't
think anyone had ever played with his feet.  His slurred appeals were
almost comical: Haaaaaayyyy Mack, whad'ya doin'!  That feeels weird,
hey...now...stop that will ya?  Hey stop that....haaaahhhhhaaaahhh, ha, ha,
that tickles man...hey Mack, will ya stop it....Jeez, ha,
ha,ha,aaaaaahhhhhhhaaaa, that's makin' me feel weird,
aaaaaaahhhhhhhaaaaieeee, stop it man...stopppittttt!

What was happening was that his dick was beginning to drool big strands of
pre-cum.  His knob had fattened up, and his balls were rolling in their
sack.  His big feet were tied to his dick, and he was just learning about
it.  I stood on the bed, grabbed the top of his foot, and stuck the toes in
my mouth.  Mmmmmmmmmmm....what a snack.  I sucked the big jock's toes,
worming my tongue between the thick piggies, sucking underneath them, and
using my nails to scratch and tickle his exposed and helpless soles the
entire time.  The king size bed was surprisingly stable, and although, my
young punk-toy was trying desperately to get his foot out of my grasp and
away from the salacious licking and tickling he was receiving, his torso
was unable to move much with the bolster keeping him from bouncing that big
ass.  I used my own size eight feet, with long toes, to grasp his near
nipple and scratch the tiny erection with my toenail.  Then I alternated
between his tit and his dick knob, letting the nail scratch his big fuck
tip, and along the flange, making him gasp and shout, each time.

After working both feet till he was almost completely disoriented between
the sensations and the liquor, I sat down next to him.  I slipped on a
finger glove covered with bristles, and dipped the index finger and thumb
of my hand into a little bottle of my famous green gel.  I used the two
fingers to roll Spence's near tit, the one I had been toying with using my
toenail.  It was already a bit sensitive from the scratching, but when I
began to roll it, pull it, pluck it gently, and tug it gently, the big
fucker arched his chest and let me have my way.  I had him.  He was an
eighteen year old whore...and he didn't even know it.

His tits were like his key, and I could envision him tethered on my lap,
legs separated by a weighted spreader bar at his feet, hands attached to a
collar and me wearing a bristle condom with my eight inches up his shit
chute.  Gagged appropriately, I'd be roiling his dick head while I pinched
and plucked his titties, working the big fucker to a giant cum, one of
three or four he would endure on my lap some night.  Make 'em cum, that's
my philosophy...dick slaves, their the best kind.  Some guys just need to
be used, and I could see that Spence was my manna from heaven.  I'd keep
his cock under control during the days, and on the nights of my choice, I'd
drain the spunk out his big, bull balls.

I had an old electric drill, mounted on a heavily weighted board, and
placed it between his legs.  The drill aimed down, rather than sideways,
since his asshole was now raised up between his legs held up and apart by
the spreader bar.  Instead of a drill bit, at the end I had screwed on a
short and very slender, but knobby, dildoe only about four inches long,
with lots of bumps and ridges.  On every bump and along each ridge, were
short, stiff horse hairs or flexible quarter-inch plastic nodules,
alternating from one to the other.  The drill mechanism had been slowed
down to two low speeds which caused the dildoe, attached where the bit once
went, to rotate randomly from one direction to the other at the respective
very slow, speeds.  In addition, it could telescope in and out with a flick
of a switch, slowly moving in and out of the rectum.  After applying gel
liberally on the dildoe, I used my finger with some grease to tickle and
screw into Spence's tight ass pucker.  His muscles initially clung to my
finger like they were going to break it off.  His ass had never been
breached except by the doctor and then only reluctantly.  But the gentle
and insistent scratching of my nail, the unrelenting rubbing of the lining,
the deliberate but gentle nudges of his prostrate, gradually caused Spence
to begin a steady fuck on my finger even though he consciously whined and
groaned.  He wanted my finger out, and yet almost unconsciously the
sensations made him want me to keep it in to soothe and grind what it
itched and irritated. More than that, he just plain wanted the sensations
coursing through his dick, causing it to rise off his stomach in a stiff,
aching attempt to ejaculate without any stimulation.  The knob would pulse
and expand, but without some help, it would stay fat and swollen for two or
three seconds, dripping with clear scum, then wilt slightly only to swell
up again.

When I had his asshole loosened up considerably, I quickly slipped my
finger out, and replaced it with the slender dildoe.  I'm always gentle
with the insertion, because the whole point was to get him going, not scare
him off.  This was all knew to him, and he was willing to try it as long as
I did not hurt him.  Jesus it was great to watch his ass grind, and move,
trying to avoid the incredible sensations the bristles and nodules were
causing within his bung as they slid home...and I hadn't even switched on
the drill...FUCK, this was goin' to be fuckin' great!  I flicked the
switches, and the dildoe began to rotate back and forth, and run in and out
gently and deliberately.  He couldn't move away from the drill, and the
whirring and grinding of the mechanism was matched by his pleas:
OOOOOOHHHHHHH MOTHER FUCKER... AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH FUCK, SHIT.....GET-IT OUT,
GET-IT OUT....OOOO OOOOOOOOOO....AAAAWW, MY HOLE, MY FUCKIN'
HOLE....MACK... PLEAAASEEE! FUCK, GET-IT OUTTA ME....AAAAAAHHHHHHH!  I
CAN'T STAND IT.... AAAIIIIEEEEE...IT'S KILLIN' MEEEEEEEEE.....WHAD'YA DOING
TO MEEEEEEE! AAAAAAAHHHHHH!  While the little fuck head, screamed and
pleaded, his hips moved like his asshole was being eaten from the inside by
a marauding band of fire ants.  Yeah, what a fuckin' turn-on.  This big
piece of blond, hairy meat was helpless, and his dick was just about to
explode.

I continued to pinch and roll his tits, and then I took put on a bristle
glove on the other hand.  With his asshole fully occupied, his chest
arching for more tit work, his dick was ready for a good rub.  I grasped
the nine inch rod, which was like steel.  Pulling it off his stomach, where
it had arched, I fitted the bristle palm and fingers around the stalk, and
used just the thumb to rotate and roil the piss grove and circumcision
scar.  With his hips moving as best they could, Spence's dick fucked the
bristly sleeve I had made with my hand, and the fat plum of his dick head,
was scratched each time he fucked the schlong up an down in my snare.
Within seconds, he was burping ropes of gism out the wide lips, coating his
chest and face beyond.  But the maddening dildoe did not stop, and neither
could his hips.  His dick was pistoning in and out of my fist, at the
moment that his knob was the most sensitive, and he was helpless to stop
the awful tickling.  I kept at him until his dick went hard again, and
ground itself to a second, excruciating ejaculation.  He started to scream
at that point, and so I stopped working his dork about a minute after the
second cum, and turned off the drill.

That first weekend at college, Spencer Harding slept on his knees, legs
kept apart with a spreader bar, hands secured behind his back, face down on
his pillow.  I attached a pulsing sleeve made from an automatic milking
machine nozzle, to his cock.  Once his dick went hard, it was stimulated
all night long, not enough to ejaculate, but just enough times to keep his
prick stiff, and to tickle his flange and prick tip.  I slept with him,
occasionally slipping my bristle covered index finger into his bung, to
help him sleep well!  Freshmen, they are made for breaking, and by the end
of the year, this one would be crawling on his hands and knees to my bed at
night to suck my cock or my toes, whichever, I had a mind for him to do.
It would be some time before this big kid got a chance to decide when his
balls were to be emptied, and that's the way it should be.  Little Johnny
needs to concentrate on his crewing and school work.  I'd take care of that
fat prick that had no conscience.