Date: Sun, 25 May 2008 23:34:16 EDT
From: Glaucon55@aol.com
Subject: The Boarding House No. 1

The Boardinghouse No. 1
By Glaucon55
Write me at:  Glaucon55@aol.com

Disclaimer:

If you are not yet 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials
of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This story is for
adults, and contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys
with older men.  This story is completely fiction, all descriptions and
names are also made up, and any similarities are truly just that, purely
similarities.  I do not engage in or condone sexual activity between adults
and underage boys which is regulated by law.  These are fantasies for
sexual private sexual enjoyment, not for emulation in real life.  All
rights are reserved by the author.

This current story line is entitled "Boardinghouse" and will be a series of
discreet stories focused around the theme of uncontrollable masturbation,
cock management, milking, and boys forced to surrender. I would truly
appreciate suggestions from others for scenes or settings, and of course
descriptions of real scenes.  This storyline is the product of such input,
and many of the separate chapters will be based on information shared with
me.  Of course I change names, and seek the permission of those who share
tales with me.  But those I publish feel I am able to bring something to
the telling of their story that they appreciate.  I hope you will as well.
So please consider writing to me...there is no fiction that is more
exciting than reality.

My stories are posted on Omelissokomos.blogspot.com, and on ASSGM.com. and
on Nifty.  I would also appreciate comments on my writing.  I certainly
admire the good writers on the web, and consider myself still a learner.
Please contact me at glaucon55@aol.com.

Boardinghouse No. 1 Started February 29, 2008, published May 24, 2008

Doug had purchased the house with an inheritance that he had received from
his parent's estate, five years earlier.  At twenty-three, he was fortunate
enough to own his own home, and to be able to generate income from it as
well.  Investments in property near to colleges and universities are always
a good bet, but for Scott, this house was the perfect combination of his
wants, needs, and hopes.  He had selected Diablo Valley
College—DVC---because of its perfect location.  A college without an
adequate supply of housing for the thousands who attended, in the midst of
high value residential property, and attended by a bevy of beautiful boys
from the suburbs as well as foreign students looking to get into
prestigious colleges.  When Doug found the old Victorian in the midst of
all the newer developments at the end of a cul-de-sac, he knew that he had
struck gold.  The house had been built in the era when the land was part of
local farms in the Concord area, but had fallen into disrepair.  Only the
legacy of a family owner, who had died childless, left the old house
available on the market.  Young families moving in did not want the huge
rambling house, nor did the local preservation laws entice developers.  It
was Doug's good fortune to be in the right place, at the right time.

In addition, the house had an unusual design.  The walls between the
bedrooms on the second floor had a 3.5 foot passageway that allowed access.
The purpose of the design was now lost to history except for some hints in
the construction, but it created an opportunity that made Doug almost cum
in his pants.  At each of the rooms, Doug found an old built-in icebox that
was in the closet spaces.  At an earlier time, when the rooms were part of
an apparent boarding house created by the original owner, rather than
merely a private residence, foods and cold stuffs could be delivered to
each resident's room.  But the iceboxes had long ago been turned into
storage within the closets and the rear access covered in each room.  The
corridor though, passed each room and also the toilet and bathrooms built
to serve each room individually.  Doug cleverly fashioned peepholes into
each room, arranging the furniture and lighting when he completed
renovations, to ensure that the corridor had a clear view of the beds, the
toilet area, and the shower/baths.  He decorated the rooms so he could hide
lenses for his recording devices making sure they would not be detected,
and placed the apparatus in the little hallway, adjacent to each room.
Spending just enough of his parents' legacy to accomplish his goal, paying
for the old house outright and then renovating it, he charged top dollar to
students seeking private rooms close to the campus.  There were four
bedrooms on the second floor, each set of two sharing a toilet room and
bath room.  It was time to rent.

Room 2a

The first seven years of the rental only allowed Doug to spy on his
residents, watching as the boys he rented to masturbated at night, fucked
their girl-friends in the privacy of the room, and stripped to admire their
handsome bodies after workouts and/or as they prepared for showers.  But by
the mid-1990s, Doug had been able to assemble sophisticated recording and
camera devices that allowed him to monitor rooms, and select the rooms and
times in which he wanted to capture activities.  The first successful test
of the expensive apparatus came with the Fall semester of 1996.  Years of
net rent, and low overhead had allowed Doug to earn tidy revenues that went
into investments for his old age, and into an account for the house.  The
improvements were his "mad money" used to buy his entertainment.  And what
entertainment it was.  At 31, he had the perfect setting for his grander
scheme.

In the Fall of 1996, Room 2a was rented to a 6'1" former wrestler from the
East who had decided that California was a place of golden girls and
opportunity.  His grades were not good enough to get him into any of the
state's prestigious public universities.  Instead, he sought to get an "AA"
degree, and transfer to one of the schools, pursuing his athletic and
academic career.  Ben Anderson was a beautiful brunette, without an ounce
of fat on his body, sloping pectorals on a smooth torso, with a trail of
dark brown hair leading to a dark and dense bush above his genitals.  His
huge testicles, hung below, unobscured by hair, but his legs and arms were
dusted by a thick pelt of light fur, down to his toes and fingers.  The
hair on his head, cut in a short, stylish butch, his eyebrows and his
underarm hair were also dark.  Ben's eyes were a pale blue, like pools that
girls melted into, and a smile that made pussies grow wet.  Most
importantly, Ben had a gentle, soft style that made him enticing.  It
wasn't sexy so much as it was endearing, but the combination of his sweet,
innocent disposition and that big boy body made him a potential feast.

It was strange, Ben had always been small for his age, until he reached
seventeen.  Then he had begun to grow and physically mature.  He was
suddenly 6'1" but anyone could tell he still had inches to grow.  His feet
grew to size twelve, with long thick toes, and his nipples protruded from
his mounded pecs.  Suddenly girls wanted to caress the boy, and cuddle him
to them as if he were a teddy bear.  That suited Ben, whose cock had always
suggested someone of greater stature than his body actually showed.  He was
six solid inches at 13 years when erect and now, at his first year in
college, he was almost eight inches.  But that wasn't the half of it,
literally.  Ben was almost as thick as he was long, and the fat knob on the
end of his shaft scrubbed aching clits and pummeled the depths of needy
cunts.  Every time his lifted his hips to drag his penis from the sticky
slot of some horny girl, her squeals and cries would fill the room and as
he drilled back down to satisfy their greedy itch, the squeals became
wails.  Ben could hardly contain himself, his sphincter tightening each
time he drove in, and almost as if he was on auto-pilot, his cock would
piston until its own helpless need was sated with a huge explosion of
thick, tangy boy spunk.  Ben's toes would curl from the sensation, and he
couldn't continue fucking after his cum because the tickle across his glans
would force him to withdraw quickly, and sprawl onto his back, his
throbbing erection still spitting out pearls and drops of his spooge, and
his shaft still pulsing.  Ben Anderson was a boy on a mission, good grades,
performance on the team, and cunt till he dropped.  But Scott would
discover more.

Ben did not masturbate every night like some of the boys who lived at the
Boarding House.  Oh, he'd grind his hard erection into the bed at night,
sometimes even lifting his hips to thrust into the soft bedding and tease
his aching prick knob.  But most nights, he would then restlessly flip over
onto his back and fall asleep, or just lesson the plunges until he drifted
away dreaming of some soft pussy he was fucking in his fantasies.  At least
that is how it appeared to Doug.  But one Friday night, when Ben came home
from hanging out with his buddies at a bar near the college, Doug
discovered that Ben had other needs.  Reviewing the video the next day, he
watched as Ben staggered into the room, kicked off his flip flops, and
meandered towards the john.  There, perfectly captured in the bathroom
light through the open door, Ben shoved his jeans and briefs down to the
floor.  He leaned up against the wall behind the toilet so he would not
fall over and could piss like a race horse, barely keeping his splashing
urine from dousing more than the bowl.

Even as he finished flipping his penis to get out the last drops of his
piss, the shaft began to harden and by the time Ben had made his way back
to his bed, his pants and briefs still around his ankles, he fell over,
stumbling from the binding effect at his feet.  In a moment, his hips were
driving against the soft material of the bedspread, driving his fevered
shaft into the bedding and bruising his tingling glans against it.  But Ben
needed more.  Suddenly he reached up and grasped one of the pillows from
the top of the bed, and dragged it down to his body.  Then he lifted
himself up and raised his hips, forcing them down on the soft, spongy
pillow.  His leaking prong was enveloped in the downy cotton pillowcase,
and Ben was up on his knees forcing his aching schlong into it.  But then
he did something that made Doug's cock go rigid and begin to leak.  Ben
reached around his body with one free hand, spread his rock solid glutes
and slid a long, thick digit into his sweaty anal trench The booze made his
aim a little off, but soon the blunt fingertip was scratching at the portal
of his private boy pussy, tickling up and down the ragged split.  The
moment his finger found the bullseye, Ben let out a long deep groan, as if
he had finally touched the core of his sexual lust.  In fact, that's
exactly what he had done.  Within minutes, the relentless index finger was
lodged deep within Ben's rectum, and had found his joy spot, his fuck nut,
and was rubbing back and forth against it as his hips plunged
uncontrollably against the pillow working his thick boy clit.  The lewd
scene was captured perfectly on Doug's video, because Ben had been too
drunk to turn off the lights when he came into the room drunk and headed
for the toilet.  Now, his big size twelve feet were hanging off the edge of
the bed, toes curling with each plunge into the pillow or rub of the
finger, and his ass cheeks roiled around the invading digit as if to make
sure it got every sensitive spot deep up Ben's fundament.  His jeans and
his briefs were tangled at his feet, until on leg worked free of the
self-imposed binding, allowing Ben to spread his legs a bit and fuck the
pillow mercilessly.

It only took about fifteen or twenty minutes, but finally Ben raised his
midsection up one last time and drove his prick down deeply into the pillow
and his finger unerringly drilled against its target deep inside his
asshole, and with a whine followed by a long bellow, he exploded into a
huge cum.  As if he was almost faint, Ben's finger popped out of his
asshole, and his body flipped over even as the cum continued to rocket from
the head of his huge prick, shooting up and over his head, and onto his
heaving chest, coating his nipples like they were chocolate covered
strawberries.  Ben flung one arm over his face, and his feet dangled over
the edge of the bed, one still tangled in his jean and briefs, his long
toes splayed and flicking slowly as he fell in a stupor.  His cock slowly
descended, the sticky ejaculate covering the glans and shaft as his cum
tapered off, and soon the heavy prick head was basting in a pool of cum in
Ben's navel.  Ben's stupor turned into a deep sleep and the tape kept
rolling capturing another 30 minutes of his beautiful body, as his chest
rose and fell, his nipples still rigid and thrusting up from his pecs.

It took over a week for Doug to develop still shots of the performance Ben
had given, and he made sure they were both in color and high resolution, as
well as beautiful black and white shots.  He blew three of them up, and
placed them in a large Manila envelope that he left on Ben's pillow with a
note:

"Ben, I thought you would want to see these first before I had copies
posted at restrooms on the campus, and distributed to your parents and
coach.  If you'd like to discuss them with me, please call me at 9:00
p.m. on Friday night and invite me up to your room.  Doug ---------"

At first Ben had tried to find where the camera located into the room,
based on the pictures Doug had given him.  But Doug had withdrawn the lens
temporarily and carefully hidden the portal he used in the wall opposite
the bed.  Ben was deflated, he felt completely violated and
frightened...almost as if he had experienced this before.  But the fact was
someone knew about his most personal needs.  Fuck, what if Doug sent the
pics to his parents, to his coach, like he threatened.  He felt like his
life would be over.

Ben avoided Doug for the remainder of the week, but after practice on
Friday and since it was off-season, he went out with a couple of his
buddies and drank himself drunk.  He did not want to confront coming home,
and what he would do...but around 8:00 p.m., he made an excuse to head to
the john, and after pissing, slipped out the back of the bar and headed
home.  When he arrived at the Boarding House, his head was swimming, and
for some reason, his prick was hard and tingling in his shorts.  He entered
quickly and quietly, and sprinted up to his room only banging into the wall
once due to his drunken state.  He felt like he might faint when he closed
the bedroom door, leaning against the wall to steady himself, but then he
turned and slowly walked to his telephone.  Cell phones were still not
common, and each resident had their own phone installed.  That worked well
for Scott, because he had found a way to tap each phone, and had recorded
some of the sexiest phone calls; damn what boys would say to their girls in
a private, late night call.  But he had not used the recordings yet, as he
had the pictures of Ben.  If this gambit worked, Doug was prepared to use
any means necessary to take control of the boys in his House.  Ben finally
picked up the phone, his heart was racing, and goosebumps had arisen on his
arms---he dialed Doug's number.  It was 8:45 p.m.

In fifteen minutes, there was knock on the door, and suddenly the door
opened and Soctt walked in.  Ben was sitting on the bed, his eyes bleary
from the alcohol, looking sullen and apprehensive.  Scott smiled, and
locked the door as he closed it: "Good evening Ben, thanks for calling.
I'm glad that you made a wise choice.  I'd hate to send those pictures out"
Doug said casually, acting as if this was a casual social visit.

Ben alternately pleaded and expressed his anger.  "Why the fuck did you do
this, how come yer spying on me...Jesus, I thought you were a cool dude.
That's fucking perv to film another dude, please don't don't send the
pictures, I don't have any money, please."

Scott listened attentively and then made it clear to Ben that money was not
at the top of list of demands.  "Ben, you're going to earn those pictures
by doing whatever I tell you...otherwise, you're toast.  And I won't take
any resistance from you, understand?.  If you fail to do what I ask, I'm
going to walk out of this room, and the next time you'll see those pictures
is when they are posted on campus, sent to your parents, or in the hands of
your coach.  Get it..."  Doug's voice lowered, and even though his own
adrenalin was flowing through his veins, he had the moxy to stare down the
young athlete.  Ben lowered his head staring down at the floor with a
sullen expression, and mumbled through his beer soaked brain..."what'ya
want me to do?"  He had a sinking feeling, but Doug made his fears come to
life.

Doug sat down next to Ben on the bed, and then uttered the crucial words.
"Stand up in front of me Ben, and lock your hands behind your head...yeah,
that's it, and spread your legs slightly."  Ben was dressed in his cargo
shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops.  His shorts were bulging obscenely from
his throbbing erection.  He swayed a bit, but closed his eyes anyway, not
wanting to make eye contact with Doug.  In order to gain his balance he
thrust out his chest and rocked on his unsteady legs.

Doug grasped the hem of Ben's t-shirt to help him balance, and then he
lifted it...pushing it up over the big boy's mounded pecs, grazing the
boy's nipples as the material rose, making Ben's prick burp more pre-cum
from the deep pisswell into his briefs.  Doug smoothed his free hand across
the rippling abdominal muscles of the handsome boy, his index finger gently
slipping into his hairy navel scratching it lightly making the dazed boy
hunch and twist to avoid the probing finger, and then his hand glided up to
the ridge of Ben's pec.  Ben had gasped at the intrusion into his navel,
his toes gripping the rubber sole of his flip-flops, but now he groaned
loudly when Doug's fingernail grazed the underside of his areola.  The
nipple above thrust out angrily, seeking its own attention, but Doug just
circled the areolas, making the pebbled surface rise like little
goosebumps.  Then without any fanfare, he grazed his fingernail across the
sensitive erectile flesh of the unruly nipples.

"Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh...shit...oooooooohhhhhhhh fuuuuucccccck!" Ben groaned
has his nipples were teased into erection by Doug's unerring finger tip.
Girl's had raked their fingernails across Ben's chest, and his t-shirts had
occasionally grazed his erect nipples.  But he had never focused attention
on his nips...that's something guys did to chicks.  But now, he was
suddenly aware of how sensitive and ticklish his tits were and Doug was
playing them like a valuable, precious instrument.

"That's it Ben, enjoy it...ooooohhhhh, it feels so good huh...yeah...look
at those babies, just hard and stiff.  Need lots of attention don't they
Ben..."  Doug wet his fingertip by licking it, and then returned to the
nipples, basting them and then again to gently scratching them.  He upped
the ante by grasping the nipples with his thumb and index finger, and
gently twisted them, and then pinched.  Then he returned to wetting them
and scratching, alternating each action, to make the drunk boy's head swim
with sensation.  The hair on the back of Ben's neck rose and his temples
were pounding.  Doug leaned forward, and let his mouth close over one of
the rubbery teats, and then pinched the other, molesting it as he confused
Ben by suckling one gently and bruising the other with his pinching grip.
Ben hunched over in desperation, but Doug quickly ordered him to straighten
up, and in fact push his chest out.  Defeated, Ben did as he was told, and
secretly, he was enjoying the unbelievable sensations on his chest.
"Ooooowwwww, oh Jesus...aaaaaahhhhhh, aaaaagggggghhhh..." he howled as
Doug's lashing tongue and nipping teeth worried the stiff protruding boy
tits.

Doug used his free hand to reach down unbutton Ben's shorts, and lower the
zipper.  He gripped the huge, wet bulge and gripped it to make Ben gasp,
then he pushed the loose shorts below Ben's ass and let them slowly slide
down his long legs to pool at his ankles.  Ben's white briefs were a
dazzling white the pouch bulging out obscenely, a large wet spot where his
glans was copiously leaking seminal fluid.  Doug sent his wicked index
fingertip straight to the point where the glans was leaking, knowing that
the piss lips and circumcision scar were there.  As he sucked voraciously
on Ben's nipples, and used his one hand to pluck and pinch the free teat,
he used his ragged fingernail to begin a stead scratch of Ben's piss lips
through the material of his briefs.  The boy bucked from the sensation, but
his hips thrust up to meet the sensation, allowing Doug to tease his pride
and joy.  Ben was a fucking natural.

Doug ordered Ben to lower his hands and bring just his fat cock head
through the fly of his briefs, just the end of the eight inch shaft, with
the bulging knob.  Ben winched at being made complicit in his own
seduction, but in his drunken state, and with the incredible sensations
Doug was giving him, Ben didn't resist, he just stalled.  Doug decided to
help the boy, pulling out a bottle of Poppers, and opening it under Ben's
nostrils.  Ben flinched, but Doug pulled him back and ordered him to
inhale, and once the fumes filled Ben's brain, making him feel even more
light-headed, he soon lowered his hands and awkwardly worked his straining
prick through the fly of his briefs.  Doug pushed his hands away so that
the drunk boy would not pull the entire shaft through the fly, and ordered
his hands back behind his head.  Then Doug cupped his fingers around Ben's
pulsing boner and gripping just the leaking glans, twisted his finger tips
around the shaft, making Ben grunt and groan helplessly.

"OOOOOOOHHHHH FUUUUUUCCK...OH SHIT...AAAAAAAAAHHHHH, JESUS, OH MY GOD,
OOOOOOOHHH FUUUUCCCCCK!"  It was so fucking ticklish and yet Ben couldn't
stop it, there was something so incredibly satisfying about having his big
penis manipulated by anyone and especially in ways he didn't do to himself
when he jerked his thick prick.

Doug's lips went back to the thrusting nipples on the boy's chest, while
his one hand continued to maul and twist the other free nipple and his
other hand masturbated the boy's whorish prick knob, using his fingernails
and fingerpads to tease the boy to distraction.  From Doug's perspective,
the handsome athlete, leaning forward towards the sweet torment of his cock
tip, yet arched back to thrust his chest towards the delicious work on his
teats, eyes closed, panting and whining, with his hands locked behind his
head was about as good as it gets when training a big dicked boy to
surrender to the needs of his penis.  As Doug would learn, most boys are
the captives of their straining pricks, but some need to learn how to give
in to their fevered lust.  Ben was just such a trainee, enlisted in the
legions of boys and men across America who wish to turn their cocks over to
someone else to manage.  Someday, Ben would be happily married, and with
children of his own.  But a part of him would always crave what Doug was
giving him.  The reasons for Ben's quick surrender were as yet not fully
disclosed, but they soon would come to light.

Within minutes, Doug had Ben naked and on the bed.  His head was down on
the bedspread, and his firm, taut ass was up in the air, while his big feet
and long toes were hanging over the edge flicking restlessly in
anticipation. A spreader bar was secured to the bed frame so Ben could not
slide over the smooth coverlet.  Ben's wrists were tethered back to the
spreader bar at his ankles, and his ankles were secured to the bar that
kept them three feet apart.  Ben was moaning, and quietly begging Doug not
to hurt him, but that was the farthest thing from Doug's mind, and given
the straining erection of Ben's prick, the last thing he actually expected.
Once he had Ben secured, Doug pulled up a small platform that was
adjustable in terms of height.  The platform sat on the bed, between Ben's
outstretched legs, built of wood and pvc plastic tubing.  On the business
part of the platform was a socket secured to the surface in which items
could be screwed in place at an adjustable angle.  Doug had created the
device to screw various sized vibrating prods into the socket that he could
slide up and into place behind the asses of boys and men like Ben who were
safely secured in place on some surface like a bed, a table, a bench, etc.
This was Doug's inaugural trial of the device, and its success would
inspire him to create more in his spare time.  Since the platform could
adjust to the height of the ass in question, Doug had it at the correct
height for Ben's quivering, ragged ass lips.  When Doug rolled the platform
up to Ben's clenched anus, and the buzzing tip of the prod made contact
with the boy's resisting portal, Ben squealed as if he had been stuck like
a pig and his prick quivered as if he would shoot his spooge spontaneously
over the coverlet.  Later, Doug would learn the whole story.

Ben Broken In

When Ben was thirteen, his father who was devoutly religious, asked a
doctor who was part of the family church to be Ben's pediatrician.  The
family knew Dr. Allen from church, and he had always been kind if distant
towards Ben and the other children.  They would see him at church, and
occasionally his father's men's group from the church would come to their
house for meetings.

Prior to his first appointment, Ben had only been to the doctor on an
infrequent basis.  But his father thought it high time for him to have
annual physicals.  He would need them if he was going out for sports
anyway, so this would be a natural part of his wellness progression.  Ben
had been masturbating for at least two years, discovering in the shower how
good it felt to soap his hands and run them up the already impressive
length of his penis.  The shooting sensations of dry cums, that made his
toes clench and his whole body quiver, gave way to explosive ejaculations
in the shower where he had the privacy of whack his stiff boner into
submission and shoot his boy spunk without leaving a messy trail.  Ben had
also developed a predilection for using a pillow when he fucked the bed
because it allowed him to drive his penis in a natural fucking motion into
the soft material and to lift his ass up and drive down in a natural
motion.  He had learned this from watching his father masturbate once,
seeing the older man drive his sticky boner into a pillow as if he was
fucking his wife, and driving his raised and powerful thighs into the
yielding sham.

Little did Ben know that this knowledge would come back to haunt him.  When
he arrived at Dr. Allen's office for his physical, he just hoped it would
be over soon and he would not have to have any shots.  But when Dr. Allen
got through the basic elements of the physical, he introduced what would
become Ben's special treatment.  He pulled up a chair on casters, and asked
the undersized teenager to lower his briefs to his ankles.  Ben looked down
sheepishly, and immediately began to develop an erection.  "Fuck, why did
the Dr. need to lower his fucking shorts."  Quietly, Ben slowly lowered his
shorts, and placed his hands in front of his genitals.  But the Doctor
pushed his hands aside and told him to put them behind his head.  Ben
blushed six shades of red, as his oversized penis, already six inches in
length, rose steadily to aim straight up and out, its fat plum of a knob
already leaking seminal fluid.  Ben closed his eyes and wanted to die, but
he stood trembling as the Dr. lifted his testicles and checked for hernia.
That was the easy part.

Suddenly, Dr. Allen grasped Ben's penis at the fat tip, and began to thumb
it.  Then he spoke calmly and quietly to Ben: "Ben, how often do you
masturbate?"  Ben flushed again, goosebumps breaking out all over his body
and his trembling increased markedly.  He didn't answer, he couldn't.
Dr. Allen, though, was persistent.  "Ben, if you don't answer my questions
I think we'll have to invite your father in from the waiting room and ask
him to ask the questions.  Is that what you want?"

This made Ben open his eyes, and look at the Doctor, as if to see if he was
serious.  "No Doc, no, don't ask Dad in...please don't."

"Then you'll need to answer my questions directly, do you understand?"  The
Doctor made firm eye contact with Ben, his unsmiling face and persistent
thumb making Ben want to faint.  Ben's penis was staying absolutely rigid,
and the rubbing thumb smoothed any precum around the glistening glans and
the ticklish corona.

"Yes Doctor," Ben said in a quiet, breathless voice almost squeaking out
his answer.

"Now, how often do you masturbate, Ben."

Ben whispered his answers to Dr. Allen's questions, admitting that he
masturbated once or twice each day, and forced to describe how he did it.
When the Dr. expressed surprise at how Ben played with his penis, using the
pillow, the Dr. asked questions that lead to Ben admitting to seeing his
father masturbate.  Aha, the doctor implied, `you're a little voyeur,
liking to watch men play with their penises?'  Ben did not answer, but his
silence was like an admission of guilt and the doctor explained that boy's
like him needed special treatment.  He ordered Ben up on the padded exam
table.

He pulled Ben's briefs down to his ankles, and let the boy's feet hang over
the end of the table, with his knees spread as wide as the table would
safely allow.  He pushed Ben's head down on the table and told him not to
move.  Then he produced a bottle of Vaseline, put on surgical gloves and
dipped his finger into the gel and without any warning, spread Ben's strong
boy cheeks with one hand and swiped his finger back and forth with the
Vaseline against the boy's defenseless anal split.  Ben gasped in surprise,
and asked the doctor what he intended to do, but Dr. Allen ordered him to
be still, and let him do the exam.  When Ben, whose cock was leaking
copiously onto the table showed the temerity to ask again, Dr. Allen asked
him if he wanted to explain to his father how he had learned to masturbate
using a pillow.

Ben shut up immediately, and within seconds the Doctor's thick, blunt
finger pried its way into the boy's hot, clinging asshole.  Ben squeezed
his eyes shut, and tried to force out the intrusion into his virgin boy
hole.  But the Dr. knew how to manage horny, hard dicked teenage boys, and
Ben was soon bucking on the incredible wriggling finger that was fucking
him.  Dr. Allen carried out his insidious task with an impassive
expression, a most clinical manner.  Only his own erection, trapped behind
his slacks and medical coat, betrayed the excitement he felt from the
digital masturbation of the submissive boy under his control.

On this first occasion, the Doctor eventually worked two fingers into the
boy, fucking him persistently, and grazing his prostate to make him grunt,
and whine, and plead that he feared he would cum.  But Allen ignored the
boy's entreaties, using his fingers of his free hand to ruthlessly
masturbate the boy's prick knob.  Dr. Allen loved taking control of boys'
sensitive cock heads.  Most boys were not aware of their bodies and how
sensitive they were.  Seizing control of Ben's fat prick tip was a shock to
the innocent boy, and he was virtually helpless in the hands of the
experienced, older man who teased his bulging crown mercilessly.  When Ben
jerked his bone, he used long strokes because his glans was so sensitive,
and avoided touching it too much.  That was how he needed to the
masturbated in order to ejaculate.  Sensing this because the boy was unable
to cum, but leaked pre-cum profusely and whined from the incredible
sensation enveloping his fat glans, Allen kept working the knob as he
finger-banged the thirteen year old boy, turning the big boy into putty he
could use to his heart's content.  It took fifteen to twenty minutes, but
finally, Dr. Allen rolled his masturbating fist from cock root to knob, and
thumbed the boy's glass smooth prick tip as he stroked, sending the boy
over the edge as he continued to slide his fingers into the teenage rectum.
Ben saw stars, planets, and novae all at the same time, shooting long
strands of ejaculate over the table and the pious doctor's unrelenting
hand.  Finally, he stopped, smiling to himself as he discovered that Ben
had tightly curled his toes, almost draining the blood from them during the
ejaculation.  This was the beginning of Ben's training.

Once per year, twice when he was sixteen and went out for the team, and
until he went away to college, Ben was stripped, inspected with his hands
behind his head, and masturbated both front and back until he squirted gobs
of boy cream.  By the time he was eighteen, his penis was eight thick
inches long, and the fat knob was a fist full.  Dr. Allen reveled in
working the boys prick tip, sometimes spanking him, sometimes using devices
to fuck his bung, but always keeping him in the humiliating position of his
head down and his ass up.  Ben for his part, had learned to secretly enjoy
the Doctor's ruthless exams, but only saw him once per year, except on one
or two occasions when his father's men's group from the church met at their
house.  On those occasions, the Doctor had boldly stolen up to Ben's room
after he had gone to bed, and milked him right in his own bedroom, closing
the bedroom door, and locking the bathroom door, to protect their privacy
and Ben's submission.  But the rest of the year, Ben bifurcated and
separated this experience from the rest of his life, assuming no other male
had undergone the strange experience he had.  He dated girls, and fucked
them.  But the night that Doug had caught him ass up with fingers in his
rectum, he had been reliving the incredible experience he had had at
Dr. Allen's hands.  Choosing the same position to rape Ben's ass was simply
following best practices for Doug...but it was also part of a Jungian
archetype that had been firmly implanted into Ben's psyche.  The squeal
from sensing the buzzing prod was about to launch Ben into sensations far
beyond what his family Doctor had taught him, yet affirm his need for
domination.

Doug slathered lubricant over the prod again, after tickling the boy's
shuddering bung hole, and then slowly worked the prod past the resisting
lips.  He got some help by tickling Ben's wet and glassy cock crown,
distracting the hunky college boy, and allowing the prod to twist its way
up his now gripping rectum.  Boy's like Ben were bred to be bred, and his
asshole once breached voraciously consumed the buzzing tormentor, gripping
it as if to make it fuck him as ruthlessly as Dr. Allen's fingers.  But the
buzzing was so new, so different, he thought he might ejaculate
spontaneously!  But before he could focus on his cum, Doug slipped a penis
gag into his mouth with another vibrating prod, buzzing his teeth and the
roof of his mouth, completely distracting him.  He sputtered round the
humming prod, and soon was sucking it like a mother's teat...helpless to do
anything but what Doug demanded.

Now Doug leaned down, and slipped his head under the raised torse of the
boy, flicking his finger into Ben's exposed navel, seeking out the rubbery
tit nubs to gently pinch them, and then putting his face near the boy's
rigid prong.  Then he gripped the fat glans in his fist, and began a glans
only masturbation.  He did not know that this would keep the bound college
boy on the edge of his cum.  Doug could hear Ben's uncontrolled squeals and
whines from behind the gag.  Once again Ben's oversized cock head was in
the control of an older man, and the delicious sensations the man's fingers
and fist were producing man him into a babbling college boy slut.

"Aaaaaaaaiiiiieeeeeeee...ooooooooooouuuuuuuggggghhhh...nnnnnaaaaaahhhhhhhh...,
wwwwwaaaaaaaaa...aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

After thirty minutes of dragging the boy up to the brink of ejaculation,
and then keeping him bucking, toes curling, and whining, Doug slid his hand
to the bottom of the throbbing shaft, and milked the whole penis, thumbing
and fisting the prick tip on his way up, and then again as he went down.
That did it...Ben was now out of control, his body completely belonging to
Doug.  When the man flicked a switch and turned the vibrator up to full,
that coupled with the full masturbation of his prick, sent Ben over the
edge.  He began to ejaculate wildly, shooting long bolts of starchy sperm
out of his piss lips, up to his face and chin on the bed, and dousing the
coverlet as he yelled into his gag.  Doug made a mental note that he would
need to use a towel with Ben in the future, as the college boy inundated
the bed.

"AAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH...OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH...AAAAAHHH!" Ben wailed
into the buzzing gag that made his head spin.  It was the first of many
nights before Ben graduated that he surrendered his big boy body to Doug's
management, and on top of that, Doug was able to force the boy not to
masturbate.  The threat of being exposed, and his willing submission to a
figure of authority combined with the exhilarating ejaculations that Doug
wrung from his spunk laden balls.  Ben was addicted to the delicious
ejaculations, even as he believed them to be strange and abnormal.  He
become dependent on Doug for his release, and the nights he spent on his
bed, in Doug's workshop in the basement, and tied to Doug's bed face up for
special sessions, left Ben a humble and otherwise chaste boy, desperate and
prick hard.  After earning his AA degree, Ben transferred to a college down
South, rather than in Southern California to put distance between himself
and Doug.  The night of his graduation, while his parents slept in a vacant
room in the Boarding House, Ben had his last explosive session with Doug,
gagged and bound on his lap while Doug milked him three times as a farewell
gesture, savoring one last time the boy's big body.

As a graduation present, Doug gave Ben the pictures and negatives he had
taken over the time Ben stayed at the Boarding House, including the
original ones that led him down this path, and then he wished him well.
Amazingly, Ben would send Doug a Christmas card each year, letting him know
how he had met a wonderful girl, got married and was now a father of two
boys.  He also let him know that Dr. Allen had returned to be a part of his
life, and to his old ways, once he and his family had returned home to live
close to his family.  Once per year, as always, Dr. Allen would put Ben ass
up in his office and milk him as he had before the boy had left for
college.  Ben was once again the cock slave of an older man.  He merely
accepted his fate, not knowing that he was not the only boy or man in
America who needed to be managed by an older male at the same time he
enjoyed a regular sexual and marital life at home with his spouse and
family.

Doug smiled as he read Ben's latest card.  You just couldn't make this
stuff up...

Next: Room 2c