Date: Thu, 10 Oct 2002 14:30:51 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bart Hanks <bart384@yahoo.com>
Subject: Getting Got (Part 10 - Conclusion)

"What the hell are you talking about, Woody?"  I was
mad, and I was also tired.  My legs hurt, my arms were
exhausted from being held at the ends of the rod, my
balls didn't know whether to keep making cum or just
go blind, my butt was tense and sore from holding
those beads in and having some of them yanked out, and
yet my dick was still horned to the hilt.  And it was
obvious to them as they looked at my dick that it
wanted all it could get; it was primed and ready.

Carson and Taylor were beside themselves with glee.
They each danced on one foot and then the other, like
maybe they needed to go to the bathroom.

"Well, Jason, like I said, it's just a simple game.
All you have to do is tell us how many strokes it will
take to make you cum, and we'll keep count, and if you
get within 20 strokes of getting it right, you're free
to go.  What could be simpler than that?"

This was insane.  I had never kept count of my strokes
in my life.  I tried to think of what to say, and
finally I asked, "How fast or slow will you go?"

"We can go at whatever speed you want.  Just keep in
mind that with fast strokes, you're using up your
number quicker.  But we'll take turns."  He looked at
the two scouts and they did high fives to each other.
Then he added, "And the one working your dick will
call out the count with each stroke.  Is that fair
enough?"

"Wait a minute.  I can see that if I shoot off too
soon, I lose.  But what if I haven't shot off by the
end?"

"In that case, we'll pull a couple more beads out of
your ass and let you pick a new number, and start the
count all over.  Oh, and by the way, if you shoot
while we're pulling the beads, it doesn't count."

I hated the whole idea.  And with all of them
constantly looking at me buck naked, at my dick
bobbing with every movement of my body, of them having
all the fun and me having to put up with it, I
couldn't even think straight.

"Let me think about it."  I glanced down at my dick.
It gleamed like the polished shaft of a gun barrel
waiting to go off.

"Don't take too long.  These boys will have to leave
soon; the scout campout looked like it was nearly
over, like they were getting ready to pack up when I
went by coming here.  Someone will come looking for
them soon.  If they don't get to finish the game, I'll
have to call in some other people to help with it.
And I'd also have to find another time to get you
again so they could play.  So you better come up with
a number soon."

Carson and Taylor whooped at that.  I'll bet their
little peckers were about to shoot off in their pants
by now.  And it sure was giving Woody's dick a trip.
The front of his pants had a stain that slowly got
wider.  I'll bet he would be stuck to his shorts
before this was over.

I tried to think straight.  I figured that in five
minutes I could shoot off, but how many strokes would
that be?  If they worked me fast, would it be one
stroke a second, or would it take two seconds.  That
was important because it as the difference between 60
strokes a minute and 30 strokes a minute.

Woody seemed to think I had waited too long.  "Come
on, Jason. Pick a number, any number.  We need to get
started on that pole of yours.  And it sure is
gleaming and ready for us to begin."

I took a deep breath, and finally guessed "450."  I
had no idea if that was good or bad.

"Fast or slow?"

"Fast."  Anything to get this all over with.  My dick
was dripping, but it held its head high.

"Ok.  Which one of you wants to go first?"

Taylor almost fell all over himself, raising his hand
and saying "Me!  Me!  I do!"

"OK.  Remember to keep the count, and say it loud.
Since there's three of us and Jason said his number is
450, we'll each do a third.  At the count of 150, you
step aside, and Carson you be ready to start right in.
 He wants it fast so don't waste time.  And at 300
Carson, you turn it over to me.  Any questions?"

They shook their heads, and Taylor stood on a chair
beside me.  He was really ready.

"Begin!"

He wrapped his hand on my shaft, starting at the head
and going all the way down, then going back up to the
head.  "One!"

My dick reacted like electricity and my balls started
to draw up like I was getting ready to shoot.  Taylor
was going fast, and my dick was slick enough to make
it easy on him and me.  He had really good action with
that hand.  I bet he could make a guy practically beg
to have him work their shaft.

Woody was rubbing his pants and squeezing his dick.
He was loving this.  I squeezed my butt hard to help
get the best sensation from Taylor's hand.  The beads
up my ass were nudging to get out, so the whole effect
was that the backside of me was holding off and the
front side wanted to go for broke.

I began to sort of ripple my body from feet to
shoulders, going with the rhythm of Taylor's strokes.
He kept up his rapid fire speed and the numbers were
getting higher.  It wouldn't be long before his turn
was up.  I think he must have realized that, because
he began to squeeze my dick harder, holding it tighter
as he went up and down.  And now each time he reached
the top of my dick, he was moving his first finger
over the tip of the head, over the piss slit.  It was
a sensation that made me quiver.  I hadn't ever had
that done to me before.  It was great and yet sort of
painful, since it was making the slit more sensitive.
It was I guess an electric thrill each time, but one I
also wanted to get over so it could end.

He wasn't bringing me off, but he had built me up
enough that I knew the cum wouldn't be much further
away.  I tried to hold back, and at the same time he
slowed.  "One forty.  One forty-one."  That hand was
playing with my dick as well as working it.

But finally he reached 150, and he stepped down.
Carson instantly took his place.  That was when I
realized there would be a problem.  Taylor's hand was
slick from working me; Carson's hand was dry.  So as
he said "One fifty-one" he was almost riding rough
down my shaft.

Of course that didn't seem to bother him.  On the next
stroke up, he tried to swipe precum off the piss slit.
 But the trouble with that was that all of Taylor's
strokes across that spot had about emptied any of the
stuff for the moment.

Carson's hand was almost bumping as he went down
again, and I pulled back as far as I could.  "Hey!" I
said, "I need some lube here."

"Run dry?" Woody asked with a grin.  "I'll see what I
can do to help."  He went past me, and I thought he
was going to the kitchen.  Suddenly it was like my
backside came alive.  He pulled out another bead, and
then before I could get my breath, he yanked again and
a second one came out.  They were the huge ones by
now, and the effect reverberated through my system.
My dick danced, my balls churned, and as I looked down
I saw that indeed some precum was again flowing
wildly.  My whole system seemed to go electric, and
what my butt didn't tell me my dick did.  It was a
full charge all around, and I was near the brink.

I cussed him wildly, but he said "Enjoy it while you
can.  There's only one bead left, and when it's gone
you're on your own."

Carson oiled my precum all up and down my shaft, and
started working it again. I couldn't really tell
exactly how close I was to shooting off, but he had
good speed.  He kept grinning as he worked it, calling
out each number as he pumped.  My dick was pretty red
by this time.

But suddenly as he worked I realized I couldn't hold
back any longer.  Something inside was taking over, my
dick was about to orbit the moon, and I was primed to
shoot.  I tried to hold back, I scrunched my toes and
squeezed my butt muscles and tried everything else I
could think of, but it was no use.  My dick was so
sensitive by this time that it wasn't going to wait
for anything.

It surprised Carson when I shot; surprised him so much
that he jumped back, letting go of my dick and letting
me shoot off into space.  My dick trembled, bucked,
bounced, swung wildly back and forth.  But somehow
there wasn't as much cum this time.

When I calmed down, Woody said, "Well, well.  Looks
like you lost on that one.  It was nowhere near 450.
Guess we'll have to start over."

But before anything more could happen, a voice off
somewhere in the distance started calling for Carson
and Taylor.  The two guys looked up in a surprised and
scared way.

"You better go" Woody said.  "We don't want anybody to
walk in on this."

Carson and Taylor were obviously disappointed.  "I
never got a full turn," Carson complained.  He reached
up for my dick again.  It was starting to go limp at
last.  He gave it a few tugs like it was a bell rope,
but got no reaction.

"You're run out of gas," he said.

"No he hasn't.  This party hasn't gotten started yet.
But you two guys go on now.  I'll get hold of you
sometime in the future and you can get your complete
turn.  And Taylor can play with it again too."

The voice called a second time, sounding impatient.
They hurried out the door and down the long stairs.
Now I was alone with Woody.  For a moment, all was
silent.

"Well, well, well.  Alone at last."

"Go to hell, Woody.  We're not going to be alone for
long.  This is Larry's house and he'll be coming back.
 And I don't think he's going to want to find you
here, after all the trouble currently going on over
Norton and drugs.  He's going to want to look clean as
a whistle."

Woody looked me up and down.  "You may be right.  I
guess I'll have to take you away somewhere."

"By yourself?  You're not man enough."

"Like hell I'm not."  And going behind me, he pulled
out the last bead.  I hollered like the world was
ending.

"What's going on in there?" a voice from outside
called.  For an instant we both froze, and then I
recognized who it was.  Larry came in the door.

In his manner and in his facial expression, it was a
different Larry than the one who had run out the door
to get the tape from Norton.  He seemed worried and
preoccupied.  He glared at Woody.

"Get him down from there and get gone!"

"Why?"

"Because, dumbass, somebody from the station is
probably going to come and search my place.  They
don't really think I'm into drugs, but they need to
make sure.  But I don't want to raise any questions
about anything else.  My job could be on the line over
this."

Woody seemed inclined to argue, until Larry barked out
angrily, "Do it!  Get him down from there!"

Reluctantly Woody started freeing my wrists.  When he
had gotten them free, I could lean down and untie my
ankles.  It sure felt good to move again.  As I was
doing all that, Larry said, "And get some clothes on.
Your dick looks positively obscene."

Larry was in a bad mood, all right.  But my dick did
look the worse for wear.

He gathered up all his New Orleans sex stuff and gave
them to Woody.  I wondered if he would regret it
later.

"Take this stuff and go, Woody.  And keep your mouth
shut!"

Woody nodded meekly and hurried out.  But he couldn't
resist one last comment.  Turning at the door, he
said, "It was good to 'see' you again, Jason.  We'll
have to 'play' again soon."

"I'm going to get you, Woody, and in a way that you'll
never forget."

But he was gone down the stairs by the time I finished
speaking.

I was dressed now.  "Where's Kevin?"

"I told him to let me come and get Woody out.  He's
waiting in your back yard.  He's not in any trouble,
and his folks know he's OK.  Right now his parents are
mainly concerned whether Butch will be involved with
any of this mess about Norton."

I nodded.  Things had changed so much that I wasn't
sure what to say.

Larry walked over to the VCR and pulled out the tape
that he and Woody had been watching just four or five
hours ago.

"Here.  You take it.  And I'd suggest you destroy it."

"Thanks.  What about the tape you went to get, when
you walked in on the drug squad?"

Larry grinned.  "While they were doing their duty, I
managed to take it out of Norton's camera bag.  It's
now been destroyed.  But I did have a few tense
moments after I shoved it down the front of my pants.
I didn't want it to drop out, so I kept pretending to
scratch my balls and adjust my crotch.  They never
caught on, but I do think they may believe I have some
sort of sex kick going with myself."

I grinned.  Then, changing the subject, I told him,
"You know I'll get Woody for what he did today."

"I understand.  Just wait a while. Wait until this
trouble blows over or gets solved, and maybe I'll even
help you."

I grinned again, and he grinned back.  I think we had
finally reached an understanding.

"See ya."

I went on down the stairs, into the late afternoon
sun.  Driving home, there was no sign of the boy
scouts, so I guess everyone got home safe.  I could
settle with them another day.

For me now it was just the end of an August day, and I
wasn't going to worry about a thing.  I parked in the
back yard, and looking up I saw Kevin on the second
floor porch, sitting at the top of the stairs.

I waved as I crossed the yard, and he rose and stood
waiting.  At the top of the stairs, I took him in my
arms and kissed him.

"What will your folks say?" he asked with a grin.

"I'll think of something to tell them later.  But
right now, let's you and me go inside."

We went into my bedroom.  I was happier than I had
ever been.

             (The End)
---------------------------------
Thanks, guys, for all the email.  A sequel may be
coming soon.  -  Bart