Date: Wed, 25 Sep 2013 16:05:33 +0100 (BST)
From: slut <maleslut443@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: A Drive In the Countryside

My other stories on nifty are in the Bisexual section and are series. This
one has an all-male cast and is complete in one. It is a fantasy, but there
is one small nugget of fact at its source. I do use a photograph of me as
described here on a site as an avatar, and a dominant did talk to me about
driving around the countryside just as I am in the photograph. That was the
inspiration for the story. Drop me a line if you'd like to see the photo or
want links to my other stories. Or if you want to comment on the story or
anything else under the sun. Or just for a chat. I'm nearly always
delighted to hear from readers - the only exceptions being those who want
to give me story ideas.


A DRIVE IN THE COUNTRY


He picked me up by the roundabout, and settling into the passenger seat I
got my first look at him. He was a fair bit younger than me, maybe 30s or
even late 20s. Reasonable looking and fit, and with a nice smile that he
turned on me as I did up my seatbelt. The smile might have been pleasant,
but I also caught a look in the eye. A look I knew. The look of a true
dominant, of a man who gets real pleasure from dominating and humiliating
another man. And there was anticipation there, cruel anticipation despite
the smile.

"I thought it was odds on you wouldn't turn up," he said.

"I nearly didn't," I replied as he pulled away from the kerb.

His name was James, and we had met through a gay website. My avatar on
there was a photo of me naked except for a white shirt that I was in the
process of taking off. For some reason that picture had intrigued him, and
his first note asked me if I would drive through the countryside like that
if he told me to do so. I had made some response along the lines of not
wanting to be arrested for indecent exposure, and his next had talked about
him driving me about like that.  For the next few months we had chatted and
exchanged emails about all manner of sexual subjects, and then he returned
to his original idea. He said we could drive out to the middle of nowhere
before I stripped down. That he just liked the idea of driving about with
me nearly naked bedside me. Watching my discomfort and my fear. My fear of
humiliation, but at the same time my sexual need for it. He knew me well by
now, and what pressed my buttons.

So here we were.

He drove out of town and into the countryside and pulled over into a layby.

"What did you tell your wife?" he asked me.

"That I was meeting a few friends for a drink."

"If only she knew," he said with a chuckle that was far from
friendly. "Shoes and socks first."

I slipped off my shoes and pulled off my socks. He immediately picked them
up and threw them on to the back seat.  Sitting there in his car barefooted
was when the reality of what I was doing finally came home to me. I could
have stopped there, of course. Easiest thing in the world. I knew where we
were, and where the nearest bus stop was. I could retrieve my shoes and
socks and go catch a bus home.

"Now the jacket."

I took it off and it joined my socks and shoes on the back seat. The truth
was that I could have stopped it, but I didn't want to. The same could be
said of several other times later as things got nastier and nastier. In
fact, at that moment, I was almost regretting my condition that we stay
away from frequented roads. I was beginning to want the fear, the shame,
the humiliation, the excitement.  And James knew that. Knew me, or at least
knew my type. Knew that if he took ti step by step, I would be putty in his
hands.

"The jeans."

I undid the belt and the button and lifted myself to get them off my
arse. As soon as they were off, James took them and threw them in the back.

"Undo the shirt."

I undid all the buttons and let it fall open. My briefs were now clearly
visible, and the bulge in them.

"I see you are enjoying this then," he said, laughing. "You are such a
little slut. I knew you were , but it's nice to see it confirmed.

He rubbed his hand a few times over the bulge, making it swell more.

"Take them off," he ordered suddenly. Seeing my initial hesitation at
taking this final step , he barked, "Now, bitch!"

It was enough. I pulled off my pants and my cock sprang out, pointing up at
the roof of the car. James grabbed it and roughly manhandled it, then gave
my balls the same treatment. Removed his hand he held it palm upwards and I
placed my pants on it. He got out f the car and opened the rear door to
collect the rest of my clothes. He opened the boot and threw them in, then
slammed it shut. I hadn't expected that. No longer were my clothes easily
grabbable should things get difficult.

He got back into the car and looked me up and down. "Alright?" he asked.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak or even sure I could have managed
more than a nervous croak. And, strangely, it was alright. Here I was
sitting in a stranger's car wearing nothing but an unbuttoned shirt, and my
emotions were a confusing mixture of fear and excitement. But at that
moment there was no other place I would rather have been and no other
situation in which I would have rather been. He had me, and his smile told
me he knew it.

"Good," he said, and started the car.

And headed back towards town. I began to panic immediately, but he reached
across and patted my thigh reassuringly. Somehow it calmed me. I felt that
he was in charge, that he was taking responsibility for all of this. For
me. All I had to do was to do what I was told.

He reached and turned on to the bypass. There was a lot of traffic, but it
was moving smoothly thankfully. A traffic jam was the last thing I wanted
right now. To the other cars it would just seem as if I had undone my shirt
on this fairly warm afternoon. Lorries with their high cabs were another
matter. We passed several and it seemed that each time we did James slowed
down a little. Some of them hooted us, and the drivers shouted something
that was lost to me in the noise of the traffic through the open
window. And then there was the coach full of tourists. James went very
slowly past that, and out of the corner of my eye I could see people
looking and pointing. At one point I tried to cover myself with my hands,
but James briskly ordered me to uncover myself. And I did.

My erection was long gone now, my cock shrinking back into my body as if it
to try to hide from its exposure. Then we were out on the open road, moving
away from the town, and I breathed easier.

"You liked that," he said, with a quick glance at me and a broad smile. It
was s statement, not a question.

Liked it? The fear? The humiliation? The risk of being seen by someone I
knew practically naked in a stranger's car?  Just the risk inj itself of
being naked in public? How could I like all that? And why the hell did I?

I nodded to him, a little reluctantly. "How did you know?" I asked. "How
did you know I would?"

" I know your type," he answered laughing. "Know what your type needs."

We were heading north-west.  There was not much traffic on the road, and
nothing passing us. I felt I could relax a little. "Where are we going?" I
asked him.

"Fletcher's Copse."

He glanced over at me, looking for a reaction. I knew of Fletcher's Copse,
but had never been there. It was a sort of gay dogging area. I'd never had
the bottle to go there, and the way my stomach was churning this time was
going to be no exception. I was about to ask him to turn back when he
reached across a hand and began to rub my soft cock between his fingers. It
immediately started to harden.

"Does my type need to go to Fletcher's Copse?" I asked him.

"Badly." He carried on manipulating me, smiling slightly.  "Alright?"

I nodded and he let go of my cock, concentrating on his driving. Within
minutes we were at Fletcher's Copse. He pulled into the clearing behind the
first batch of trees and I saw some cars and half a dozen men. One was
sucking another's cock, and the rest were watching. They all looked over as
James pulled to a halt fifty yards or so from where they stood.

James reached in to the glove compartment and took something out. When he
shook it out I saw that it was a blindfold. "Better for you this way," he
said almost gently.

I didn't question it. I just tilted my head and he put it on. The world
went black, leaving me slightly disorientated. The last thing I'd seen had
been some of the men heading our way.

I felt him reach across me and open the door. "Now get out," he said,
giving me a gentle push.

I put one foot outside the car and felt the grass under my bare sole.

"Out," he said again, more commandingly. .

I put my other leg out, and ducked my head as I lifted off the seat. Then I
was fully outside the car, the cool breeze on my naked skin.

"Shut the door," came from inside.

I found the door with my elbow and pushed it shut. I sensed people around
me, fairly close. I was naked for all but a shirt, blindfolded, and
surrounded by strangers. And my cock was rigid, so erect that it was almost
painful.

"Put one arm through the front window and one through the back," I heard
Jim say.

I knew what he was going to do, but I followed his order nevertheless. I
found the open windows by feel and bent over and thrust my arms
through. Then felt the plastic tie enclosing my wrists and pulling them
together. There was a pause, and then I felt the hands on my body. Roughly
manhandling my cock and balls. Exploring my arse. Pinching my
nipples. Running all over my body. One even on my face, a tobacco-tasting
finger thrust into my mouth. No way of telling how many hands, or what they
might be going to do next.

Someone slapped my arse cheek, and there was general laughter. Others did
the same, and someone else slapped my still hard cock. Then I felt
something at the puckered entrance to my arsehole that was definitely not a
finger. I tried to relax as best I could, and then felt whoever it was push
inside me. I let out a noise that amused the men around me once more. He
fucked me until I felt him shudder with his orgasm and then withdraw. As
soon as he was gone, another replaced him. One after the other, they
slammed their cocks into my aching arsehole. I counted seven, as long as
nobody has a second go at me.

I thought it was over when there was a gap after the seventh, but I felt
something wet and hot splashing on my thigh and running down my leg and
knew it was far from over. Soon I was being pissed on from all
directions. My chest, my cock and balls, my arse, my legs. Someone even
managed to piss on my face.

Another pause, and some mumbling from behind me. And I felt my shirt being
ripped up the back. Next I felt myself being written on. My back, my arse,
down my legs. My cock was grabbed and that was written on too. Later, with
the help of a mirror, I found it to be a collection of sexual epithets and
descriptions. None of it very flattering. I also found that it was done in
indelible ink, and took weeks to fade. I could only be thankful that none
of them had thought of writing on my face.

I felt my wrists cut loose and I was grabbed and pulled backwards on to the
ground. O lay there a moment, dazed and confused, with the noise of cars on
the move all around me. By the time I'd sat up and removed the blindfold, I
was alone. Not a man or a car in sight. And before me in a small heap were
my wallet and phone and a piece of card with writing on it. No clothes.

The writing on the card read - Welcome to your new life. I'll be in
touch. James.

I found out what that meant when I checked my phone. It had been used to
take photographs of my degradation, and they had been sent to everybody on
my contacts list. A new life indeed. A type of life I had fantasised about,
and had talked to James about online. A fantasy no more.

I got up off the grass and looked around. I was in the middle of a clearing
in the wood miles from home. I was naked all but for a torn shirt, and my
body was covered in obscene writing, cum and piss. And then it started to
drizzle. I did the only thing I could do. I rang my wife to come pick me
up.



END