Date: Sun, 1 Jul 2007 13:39:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Smith <enslaved2str8@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bred by Matt -- Chapter 2

Matt wasn't sure why he had referred to the queer sailor as "girl," but he
was pleased to see the kid immediately kneel down before him.  Now the
kid's face was only a few inches away from the bulging crotch of Matt's
pants.  Something about having the nervous but eager teenage boy quickly
comply with his instruction to kneel down before him made Matt's big cock
gently throb beneath his jockstrap.

Matt paused briefly, enjoying the sexual tension present in the small room.
The room was near the ship's engines and was very hot.  Matt felt a few
beads of sweat break out on his forehead.  Heat had always made the young
stud feel extremely horny and very aggressive, like his huge cock had an
evil mind of its own and needed to run the show.  When he was this turned
on, the beautiful stud's large demanding tool always felt like it needed to
force itself inside some vulnerable girl's mouth and pussy holes, pounding
away until the hard monster exploded deep inside the protesting whore's
weak and vulnerable body, aggressive filling the bitch up with a huge load
of hot spooge.  Only then could the demanding monster obtain temporary
relief from its incredible horniness and the need to control another human
person through its sexual aggressiveness.

Yeah, Matt's big cock instinctively needed to fuck other human beings into
submission.  It needed to force open protesting holes and pound them into
submission.  This was the most natural instinct for the strong, beautiful
young stud and his cock.  In the past, however, Matt had always needed to
temper his incredible horniness and sexual aggressiveness when he was with
girls.  The kind of rough sexual treatment he craved putting girl bitches
through would surely land him in jail on sexual assault charges.  His
secretly videotaped play-acted rape scenes with his high school girlfriend
(now wife) were the closest he had ever come to acting out his sexual
aggressiveness.  But that was faked.  The aggressive young stud had never
really been able to fully act out his sexual aggressiveness with another
human being.

Matt closed his eyes as the sweat slowly dripped down his forehead.  He
felt his strong body fill with an erotic charge, like a steady flow of
electricity flowing throughout his muscled body and terminating in his
crotch.  There Matt's cock and big balls felt alive with sensation and
horniness.  The hard cock pulsed gently under Matt's jockstrap, leaking
more precum into the white cotton fiber.  Matt's thick tool was trapped
beneath the athletic strap like some dangerous sex criminal tightly
imprisoned for its evil thoughts and intentions.  The confining pressure of
the tight jock against his cock and balls felt incredible to the aggressive
stud.  His brain was stoned with a great sex high.

Matt's sexual reverie was interrupted by a weak sound reverberating in the
small, hot room.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the source of the plaintive sound:
the queer sailor was gently rocking back and forth and quickly whimpering
like a puppy dog.  Sweat dripped profusely down kid's forehead into his
eyes, forcing the kid to blink rapidly over and over in an effort to clear
the stinging salty fluid from his eyes.  The queer sailor's arms hung
loosely at his sides and he continued to whimper and stare directly ahead
into Matt bulging crotch.

As Matt stared down at the completely docile fag, he realized that this
sexual union had been made in heaven.  Matt and his cock naturally liked to
take control of another human being and this queer was put on earth to take
straight cock however a real man wanted to dish it out to him.  Matt knew
that even if it hurt, the queer would accept his domination of his weak,
girl-like mind and body.  This knowledge filled Matt's head and young
muscular body with even more sexual energy.  Matt had never felt this
turned on before, even with the many pretty big-titted, tight-pussied girls
he had fucked over the years.

"Open my pants, queerboy."

The kid was startled by Matt's voice, but quickly reached forward with his
shaking hands and unbuttoned and unzipped Matt's pants.  As he peeled the
young stud's pants open, the kid was immediately hit with the sight and
smell of Matt's jockstrap.  The large, thick tool and big balls distended
the jock pouch obscenely.  Matt's tool and balls had been trapped beneath
the strap all day and the jock reeked of raunchy sweat and precum.

Matt smiled to himself when he noticed the kid's eyes were very sex-gazed
staring at his beautiful crotch.  He knew the smell of his jockstrap was
hitting the queer sailor's head like a strong drug.  Now they both had a
sex high from the situation: Matt as the controlling man, and the docile,
queer sailor as the timid hole put on earth to be a receptacle for Matt's
aggressiveness.

Matt always liked having his body and cock admired by girls and guys, but
never felt that they were given their full due.  He knew he was a beautiful
guy, but he had never been worshipped like the male god he knew he was.

That is, at least until now.  Matt instinctively realized the queer gently
trembling on his knees before him would submit to his sexual demands
whatever they were.  He knew that he won't need to worry about this queer
putting his own needs above Matt's.  A guy forcing his cock into a girl was
part of nature's plan, no doubt.  Equally, though, the same guy imposing
his sexual demands on a queer was totally and completely natural.
Certainly, allowing himself to be used by a real man was a queer's
fulfillment of his purpose on earth.  Both people present in that small,
hot room -- masculine, horny Matt and the eager, nervous queer -- were
playing out one of the Universe's most beautiful sexual symphonies.

The kid's hands continued to hang down limply at his sides.  The boy made
no further effort to touch Matt after opening his pants and exposing the
young stud's beautiful, redolent crotch.  Matt was initially puzzled by the
sailor's passivity.  He knew the queer wanted to get into his crotch real
bad and had eagerly open his pants when told to.

An instant later, the realization hit home with Matt: The queer knew better
than to try to further touch his superior body without permission.  Matt's
strong, handsome face spontaneously broke out into an evil little smile at
the realization.  The full extent of his emotional and sexual hold over the
kneeling queer had now dawned on him.  Fuck, yeah! Matt thought to himself.
This faggot is totally turned on, but knows better than to touch me without
my permission!

Matt allowed the scene to continue for another few moments.  The kid seemed
to have trouble breathing as he knelt on the hard metal floor.  He
whimpered and rocked back and forth as Matt's large, hard cock gently
throbbed and leaked beneath the tightly confining athletic strap.  To Matt,
it was a truly beautiful moment.  He knew that each second he denied the
kid what he so desperately craved, the kid's head would further accept its
own submissiveness and shape itself around the dominance of Matt's will.

"Breath, you goddamn faggot!"

Matt's shouted out the order without forming the conscious thought to do
so.

The instruction seemed to spontaneously release something in the queer
teenager's tense head and body.  The existing air immediately rushed out of
his lungs.  As the boy started taking full, rapid breaths, he sobbed and
tears streamed down his cheeks.

For the first time since he had led the nervous sailor into the utility
room, Matt wondered if he was making a mistake.  Maybe he really didn't
understand the queer mindset, after all.  Maybe queers were more like girls
than he had thought.  Maybe like all women they needed to be treated nicely
before they would put out.  As the kid's body continued to shake with sobs,
the crazy idea popped into Matt's head of his taking this nervous kid out
to dinner, getting him drunk and then taking him back to his place to fuck
him, like he had done to countless girls.

Matt's thoughts were interrupted when he felt the kid reach out and grab
his tree-trunk legs for support.  The kid had been hyperventilating and
fell forward as he began to pass out.

Matt felt the young sailor's hands grip his strong thighs as the kid
struggled to avoid passing out.  A few brief moments passed as the blood
returned to the kid's head and full consciousness returned.

The boy loosened his grip on Matt's strong legs, but continued to hold on
as his head hung down pointed toward the hard steel floor.  The boy's
breathing slowed to something approaching a normal pace.

Matt felt a slight sense of panic travel through him as the kid's small
hands continued to grip his strong legs for support.  Something wasn't
right here, he felt.  The moment quickly passed, however, as Matt's
uneasiness was replaced with sharp anger at the liberties taken by the
queer in touching him without permission.

"Get your fuckin' faggot hands off me, asshole!"  Matt slapped the queer's
head hard with the open palm of his right hand, knocking the boy onto his
side onto the hard metal floor with a painful thud.

To be continued. . . .