Date: Wed, 14 Sep 2005 23:44:47 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dad And Me, Part 11

Dad And Me   by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories in
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  11

I don't know what it was that made me say "OK":
perhaps it was the relief of having survived the
session with Mr Hawthorne.  But as they sat there, I
moved across the floor and took Andy's dick in my
mouth, just as I had Mr Hawthorne's.    It was
different - like me, his pubes smelled of the soap
used in the slave shower, not the expensive lemon
stuff that Mr Hawthorne had.  And it was bigger - much
bigger:  I had to really stretch my lips to get around
it without touching it with my teeth, and after the
head was in, I stopped.  Andy reached down and started
to push me down further on to it, and I started to gag
and pulled away.

I knelt there, spluttering, and both young men burst
into laughter.  "Steve, you're never going to make
much of a cock sucker if you can't take a dick like
mine!", Andy chortled.  Shall we show him, Amos, how
real men suck dick?"

His brother nodded, and the reached down and pulled me
onto the couch between them.  Their bodies felt hot
against mine, and Amos put his hand around my head,
pulled my face to his and began kissing me deeply -
his tongue was hot and wet, and with his other hand he
started to pull at my nips so that had my mouth not
been blocked I'd have cried out with the excitement
this caused me.  At the same time Andy's head went
down into my crotch and he began to slide his mouth up
and down my dick - he slid onto the floor so that his
body was between my legs, and I revelled in the
sensation of his shoulders against my thighs.  Then,
as he sucked, he began to gently scratch my balls, and
gradually moved his finger back towards my asshole.  I
wanted to tell him to stop, but Amos's tongue was
still deep inside me and I couldn't - but then I
realised that I didn't really want to:  once his
finger started to explore my hole, I began to writhe
with that fantastic sort of itching, tickling, sensual
feeling that you get when your sphincter is gently
breached.

In spite of Amos's tongue, I realised I was moaning,
and moaning loudly.  The sound came from deep within
me, and I'd never known feelings like this before:
the attentions of the two men to my nips, ass and dick
coupled with the sheer sensuality of having two naked
bodies wrapped around my own nude form was driving me
to places I'd never been before.  And then my whole
body arched upwards, and I  was crying out with the
sheer thrill of pure pleasure as Andy's finger found
my prostate, and began to toy with it.  At the same
time his sucking at my dick became ever more
insistent, and I knew I was cumming - cumming in a way
I'd never done before, being efficiently and totally
"drained" by Andy's vacuuming and the action of his
finger deep inside me.

Andy pulled away and came and sat on the couch again,
and all three of us sat there laughing, with our arms
around each other.  That laughter that means complete
and utter enjoyment and satisfaction for everyone.
That laughter that always seems to come after deep,
gratifying sex.  We were all breathing hard and the
sweat was running off us.

"Wow" was all I cold say finally when my breathing
went back to normal and my heart had stopped racing.
Amos and Andy just sat there with the smiles still on
their faces.  "That was fan-fucking-tastic!", I went
on.  "Where did you learn that?"

"Oh, us slaves here in the house have to know all the
tricks - Mr Hawthorne and his guests like a slave to
be able to give them a good time."

"But your finger... Up my ass.... What did you do?"

"Just found your prostate, Steve.  And gave it a
little rub", Amos told me, still smiling.  "I needn't
have sucked you at all, except that I like the feel of
a dick in my mouth and having a guy cum - if I
massaged you enough inside, you'd have cum without me
even touching you."

I sat there for a moment, taking all this in.  Andy
actually liked sucking dick.  And there was clearly a
lot more to this sex stuff than I'd ever dreamed of.
I  was about to ask them to tell me - or show me, even
- some more stuff, when Amos and Andy scrambled to
their feet, dragging me with them.  Their ears must be
tuned to listening for others, as Stryker came in,
looking grim.

"OK, you two - back to your quarters.  And you, Steve,
come with me!"

He turned and stalked out of the room, and I went to
retrieve my shorts from behind the couch.  "Hurry
up!", he barked, "And leave those shorts, for the
slaves to clear away.  You won't be needing them!
Follow me, now, before I decide to punish you!"

He walked away with that assurance that only a man
used to ordering slaves around, and of being obeyed,
can have, and I trotted meekly after him through the
dark house, my bare feet slapping on the polished
wooden floors.  I felt vaguely foolish going along
through the rooms in the nude, but what was I supposed
to do, following Mr Stryker's order?

We went down a side passage and Mr Stryker stopped and
opened a door with a key.  He reached in and turned
the lights on, and I followed him so that he could
shut the door after him.  "These are my quarters", he
said, as if some explanation was necessary.  "I live
here in the house, so I can keep an eye on things as
Mr Hawthorne is away so much."

I looked around, and saw what looked a bit like one of
those "half suites" you see in some motels for
business men:  as well as a big bed and a TV, there
was a bar with a few simple kitchen appliances behind
it, a table with a couple of chairs, and a desk with a
PC on  it.  It was evident that the furniture had been
rearranged somewhat, though, as there was one of those
big multi-gym machine bristling with pulleys, dials
and weights occupying a prominent position against one
wall.

Mr Stryker saw me looking at it, and said "Why do you
think my body's so big and powerful, Steve?  That's
the reason - hours every night pounding away on that
thing.   You slaves think you work hard, but that
really tests a man's strength, and builds him up."

As he said this, Stryker almost unconsciously moved
his body into one of those "poses" muscle guys use, to
better display themselves.  He always wore short
sleeved shirts anyway, and khaki pants that seemed a
really tight fit, but as he flexed himself I could see
the fabric straining to contain him.  "Impressive,
isn't it?", he asked me. "Better than your daddy?"

Well, what was I supposed to say?  I thought his
pumped-up muscles were pretty gross, and they were in
no way as good as dad's:  his were the hard, stringy
flexible muscles you get from genuine hard work, not
these artificially inflated things!  Stryker didn't
wait for me to answer though, fortunately, and popped
the buttons on his shirt and let if fall to the floor.
 "Come over here, boy, and get a look at  a real
male", he ordered.

I went over, and now he flexed his arms to make his
muscles all kind of strain and stand out.  I couldn't
help noticing that he was completely hairless on his
upper body- his pits were shaved clean, and three
wasn't a trace of hair anywhere on his chest or his
belly.  He carried on flexing and stretching, and said
"You can touch, you know.... See if you can get your
hands around my biceps, and really feel the power..."

It seemed vaguely disgusting to me - it was as if he
wanted me to worship this artificial body of his, but
I did as I was told and was a bit repelled by the feel
of his baby-smooth skin.  His pecs were all puffed up,
too, but he had big, dark brown aureoles with quite
prominent tits, and so instead of continuing to feel
his muscles, I began to gently rub at his left tit,
then when it became firm and hard under my touch, took
it in my fingers and began to squeeze it, as Mr
Hawthorne had done to me.  Stryker reacted in the same
way as I had - he moaned gently, then tried to pull
away.  But I held on, so that it elongated, and as it
did, I squeezed harder and harder, making Stryker
begin to moan, louder and louder.

"Let's see the rest of you, then", I almost commanded
him, and whether it was because he sensed my mastery
of him as I'd dared to tweak his nips like that, or
because he was so fucking vain and wanted me to see
his butt and legs, he kicked off his boots, then undid
his pants and let them fall to the floor.

He'd shaved his legs, too, and they were thick and
solid as he stood there in just his socks and tiny
white briefs - but briefs which revealed really huge
butt muscles, and the outline of a most impressive
dick and balls.  Stryker stood in front of me striking
more "muscle" poses, first from the front, and then
with his back to me - and I have to say that the sight
of his powerful hard ass, barely concealed by the tiny
briefs, was turning me on:  I wondered what it would
be like to force those cheeks apart and fuck it, and
felt my dick starting to go hard at the thought.  It
seemed somehow almost bizarre for me to be standing
there naked, with this big guy determined to show off
his muscles to me.

Stryker turned around to face me again, and muttered
"Like what you see, boy?"

"It's pretty impressive", I said, neutrally, not
wanting to lie.

"Lie over the end of the bed, boy", he commanded.
"It's time you had a real fucking from a real man, a
man with muscles....  Mr Hawthorne has said I can use
you as a fuck toy now, and it's time we got better
acquainted."

I'd guessed this was coming, and I was a bit scared
that it was really going to hurt - as I've told you,
his dick was, as far as I could see, really
impressive.   I decided to try to delay what seemed to
be inevitable, and as I went past him towards the bed,
I ran my hand lightly down over his muscled body.   He
grabbed hold of my wrist and guided my hand so that it
lay over his left pec, then slowly moved it so that I
was again stroking it.

"You couldn't resist, could you, boy?  The sight of my
body, in all its glory.  You liked what you saw,
didn't you, boy, and you just wanted to touch it?"

Actually, as I've said, I much preferred the "natural"
muscles of dad, not these pumped up things.  But I
made myself sound deliberately sexy, and muttered "Oh
yes, Mr Stryker...."

He closed his eyes almost in ecstasy as he said this,
and released my wrist.  I carried on stroking my hand
over his pecs, feeling his nips jutting up sharply,
and decided to see whether he would continue to react
as I had done when Mr Hawthorne played with me.  So I
squeezed one nip with each hand, and he gave a low
moan of pleasure again.  Emboldened by this, I began
to tug and pull at them, and then, as his little cries
of pleasure increased, I twisted and tweaked them,
causing him to start to gasp "Yes, yes, yes...."

Still keeping one hand on his left nip, I slid my
other hand down his back and let my fingers stray
under the thin cotton of his bikini briefs.  His ass
crack was hot and moist, but completely hairless, and
I slid my finger as far down it as I could, against
the stiff resistance of his big butt muscles.  With
some determination I managed to get all the way down,
and scratched my finger nail over hi pucker, and now
he really was enjoying it:  I could almost feel his
body respond to my touch, and I began to "play" him,
noticing his reactions as I continued to really twist
his nip and scratch his hole.

The more I did, the longer I knew I was postponing
getting fucked.  So it occurred to me that I might be
able to avoid getting fucked all together if I was to
get him to shoot his load - after all, I'd quite
enjoyed Amos and Andy's dicks, so it wouldn't hurt to
suck at his, even though it was a monster, would it?

I already had one hand down the back of his briefs, so
before he knew what I was doing, I let go of his nip
and moved my hand down to grab the front of them, and
then yanked them down to his knees.  He stopped his
moans of pleasure instantly, then realising what I'd
done, he lashed out at me - the back of his hand came
across with all the force he was capable of and hit me
firmly on the side of my head, sending me sprawling
onto the floor in front of him.  I just lay there,
half dazed, my ears ringing and my face stinging, not
really understanding why he'd reacted like that.

And then I saw it:  his dick was tiny, and I could
hardly see his balls at all as they seemed to be all
shrivelled up and hiding behind this poor little
thing!  The giant outline I'd seen through his briefs,
proportioned to be in keeping with the rest of him,
was made by a plastic mould which he had been wearing
inside his briefs, and which now lay on the floor in
front of me.  I just couldn't help it - the sight of
this huge over-muscled man with that tiny dick and
shrivelled up balls was just too incongruous, and in
spite of hurting a lot, I began to laugh.

Look, I know it's not a nice thing to do. And I'd
never laugh at a guy in a wheelchair or anything, but
the thought of this big strong guy using a plastic
mould to make his shorts bulge out properly was just
hysterical, and I laughed and laughed.  I mean, it's
not as if you can help having a small dick, is it?
But then I remembered some stuff I'd read on the
internet about the things that guys who are obsessed
with their bodies and who really work at the weights
and stuff do:  Stryker must have been taking steroids
to bulk up his muscles, and the side effects had
really kicked in and caused his tackle to shrivel up!
So as his body grew, so his balls and dick shrank.  He
must be an absolute idiot to have got into that state
- as I said, I thought his body was gross - it's fine
for a guy to work out, of course, but to do it so that
you're turned into some grotesque parody of the male
form is just ludicrous.  And now he'd paid the price,
in those parts that matter most to a man.

I slowly got to my feet, and as I did so, I stroked my
dick so that it went to its full thickness and length.
 Mr Stryker just watched as I stood in front of him,
my magnificent dick contrasting with his poor thing.
I cupped my balls in my hand, squeezing them and
fondling them, so he could see again their size, and
the way that I had so much skin in my sac where they
usually hang low, and I knew that he must be comparing
my magnificent plums with the dried-up undersized
prunes he now had!  I hated the thought that he'd been
going to fuck me, and hated the way he treated dad and
me, and hated the fact that he'd just struck me so
viciously.  I suppose I ought to have been sorry for
him, but instead I sneered at him.

"There's no point me going to the bed - you couldn't
fuck me with that little thing.  And even if you
could, those dried up balls would never shoot
anything....", I taunted.

He seemed to lose all his confidence, and almost
visibly shrank in front of me. I don't suppose anyone
had ever dared laugh at his tackle before, even if he
exposed it to them - I thought that he'd probably have
got me on the bed face down, and then stripped off so
I couldn't see him.

"You're not going to fuck me!", I told him, getting
bolder by the minute.  "A guy with a set of tackle
like that wouldn't dare fuck a real man, like me."  As
I said this, I carried on massaging my dick and balls
so he could see the contrast between us.   "No, if
anyone is going to get fucked, it's you - you need a
real man's dick inside you, a real dick, like this
one.... Now, you go over to the bed, face down, and
spread those legs..."

"You fucking slave, how dare you...."

"I may be a slave, but at least I'm a man, a real man.
 And men give orders to eunuchs!  Isn't that what you
are?  Are you still capable of even producing real man
seed?"

I saw Stryker almost cringe as I said this, and knew
that I' struck home.   Becoming bolder by the moment
and feeling the excitement of the rush that power
gives you, I pushed at him and snapped "Now get over
on the bed, fucker!  Do as a man tells you!"

In spite of him being bigger and much more powerful
than me, and a free man and not a slave, I felt a
thrill of excitement when he turned and took a
hesitant stop towards the bed:  I felt almost drunk
with the power I was exerting over this pathetic wimp.
 I slapped him, hard, on his ass and almost screamed
"Move it!  Down on the bed, and spread those legs!"

I looked at him as he lay there, shuffling
uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, the dark tan of
his legs contrasting with the creamy whiteness of his
butt.  "I told you to spread them!", I shouted at him,
and kicked viciously at his ankles with my feet,
hardened by weeks of working barefoot, to emphasise
the point.  I reached in between his massive thighs
and almost contemptuously felt for his shrivelled
balls, and then had the wizened, tiny things between
my fingers.  "When my dad or me is bent like this, you
can see our balls swinging low - do you like to look
at that, when you've had us in the  studding shed?  Do
you like to see how real men's balls swing when
they're getting ready for sex?  Do you know how
pathetic you look with these raisins stuck up here?"

His head was pressed into the bed, and he gave what I
thought might be a muffled sob.  "Well, even though
you're not a real man yourself, you've got one thing
that a real man needs when he's ready for sex - I'm
going to fuck you, fuck that asshole of  yours hard,
like a real man does.  And my balls are going to pump
my man cum right up into you.  You want that, don't
you - a real man taking charge of you, and showing you
how real men fuck?  Is that why you like to watch us
in the studding sheds, to see what real men do with
their dicks and balls?"

He lay there, and I almost felt sorry for him as I
watched his body heave a little as he tried to control
himself.  "Answer me!  Answer a real man when he
speaks to you!", I snapped, and to emphasise the
point, I brought my open palm down really hard on his
butt, causing the "slap" noise to ring like a pistol
shot through the room.  Actually, the next moment I
wished I hadn't done that, as my hand really stung -
in fact, I guess it probably physically hurt me more
than it did him.

"Answer me, or I'll tan your ass again", I told him.
"You look as if you might need warming up before I
fuck you, as no man wants just to fuck a piece of dead
meat...  Now, are you ready to take a proper man up
your ass?"

I was sweating, and my heart was pounding.  This was
so exciting, to see how I could just control this man
like this.  But it was a bit of a relief when he
muttered "Yes", only just audibly.

"Reach back and pull those ass cheeks apart!", I
commanded, much more confident now.  "I want to get a
good look at your ass before I start to fuck it.  I
hope it's not all shrivelled up and undersized like
your dick and balls..."

Fascinated, I watched as, very slowly, his hands came
around behind him, and he reached to pull himself
apart.  He'd shaved his ass crack totally, too, just
like the rest of his body, and his light brown pucker
was lying there, exposed to me.  I thought about just
forcing my way in, but remembered something that Amos
and Andy had said about it hurting me almost as much
as it would him, and with the painful stinging in the
palm of my hand to remind me that some things were not
a good idea, I decided I'd better at least try to
stretch him a bit.

I moved between his legs so I was right up against
him, letting him feel the scratch of the hairs on my
legs against his smooth thighs and resting my dick on
his butt, so he continued to recognise that I was
still in control - I was really turned on by this, and
my dick was almost hurting as it strained upwards.  I
lent forward, revelling in the feeling of the warmth
of him against my belly, and put my fingers right by
his face.  "Suck these!", I snapped.  And, when he
hesitated a little "I said suck these, fucker!  Get
them good and wet, as this is the only lube that ass
of yours is going to get before my man dick forces its
way into you."

It really is sensuous to have a guy suck your fingers,
I always find - he knows that you could just as well
have made him suck your dick, and the physical
sensation of his lips sliding up and down each digit
is a real turn on, as was the tiny moans of pleasure
he was giving as he suckled away.  He worked up a good
amount of spit, too, and when I decided I'd had
enough, I pulled my hand away and almost immediately
began to push gently at his hole.  Then, once I'd got
the tip of my forefinger in, I began to finger fuck
him and churn my finger around to stretch him.  He was
moaning gently as I did this, so I guessed he was no
stranger to the use of his hole, but when I forced the
second finger in and really began to stretch him, his
moans got louder, and eventually he muttered "No,
please...."

In spite of my worries about hurting my hand, I
slapped his ass hard again.  "Quiet, fucker!  I'm in
charge.  Would you rather I just stopped doing this,
and rammed my dick home?  Now, shut your whining, and
take it like a man - not that you've really got a
right to call yourself that!"

His noise subsided a bit then as I continued to work
him, adding some spit of my own, and then it was time.
 I was already leaking pre-cum to the extent that as I
stroked my dick a little it became slicked up, and
when I positioned myself so that my head touched his
pucker, I thought that I might shoot there and then,
it was so exciting.  I pushed at him, then pushed
harder, and harder so that my dick almost buckled with
the force I was using - you probably know how it is
sometimes, it doesn't matter how hard you push, you
just can't get an initial entry.  I pulled back
slightly, then using all the power in my thighs I
slammed forward.  He gave a cry of pain as my dick
head breached his sphincter, and that indescribable
thrill ran through me as his ass clamped down hard
onto my dick.  I just stood there for a moment,
savouring the feeling of being inside him, then pushed
forward, burying my dick in his ass.  He cried out,
but I just went ahead, not caring whether it hurt him
or not - he was there for my pleasure, not his:   I
was a real man, a real man using a pathetic excuse for
a man in the way that the strong always have over the
centuries.

When I was completely buried in him with my thighs and
belly relishing the sensation of his skin right
against mine, I began to fuck him - slowly at first,
then, as his moans and cries intensified, I speeded up
to give lots of little short, sharp strokes as I found
this gave me maximum pleasure.

It couldn't go on for long, though -  it wasn't all
that long since I'd last cum, but I found this whole
thing so exciting that there was no way I could stave
off my climax for very long.  I slowed up in a
desperate effort to prolong my enjoyment, but it was
no good - I was right on the edge.  Something in my
brain told me that there was one more humiliation I
could inflict on him, and just as I began to climax, I
pulled out of him and just stood there, so that my big
slick of cum shot along his back.

He was whimpering quietly to himself now, and
suddenly, it was as if the world snapped back into
focus for me - as well as the smell of my cum and our
sweat, there was that nauseating odour of crap!  I
looked down, and saw my dick was stained brown by his
ass, and felt disgusted - up until now, me, dad and
Amos and Andy had all been "clean" inside from the
enemas, and I didn't much like this at all.  "Stay
there, and don't move", I commanded, and strode off
into his bathroom and stood there and washed my dick
clean of him.

Coming back into the bedroom I knelt on the bed beside
him, then smeared some of my cum along his backbone,
knowing that he would feel what  I was doing.  "Turn
over", I told him.

"No, please, the bed.... The cum...."

"Do as you're told, fucker!  I guess this is the only
time your bed is going to get cum stains on it, as you
aren't capable....  Real men don't care - they know
that cum on the bed is the sign of a virile stud."

Reluctantly, he rolled over onto his back, and I
sprang astride him.  I put my knees onto his upper
arms, pinioning him there, and felt his ribs between
my thighs - I'm not sure that he couldn't  have thrown
me off if he wanted to, even though I'd put on a fair
bit of muscle since I'd been at Manderleigh and was no
lightweight now - but by kneeling there with my dick
and balls right above his face, I knew I was
psychologically in control of him.

"Now listen, and understand.   The next time I fuck
you, you're going to clean my dick off.  So you'd
better be ready - if it's covered in crap the next
time, you'll suck it clean anyway, so be prepared.
Understand?"

He nodded, as best he could.  I took my cum-slicked
fingers and smeared them over my flaccid dick, and
went on "So you'd better practice - clean my dick now,
and my hands..."

I knelt there as he raised his head so that he could
reach up and lick at my fingers. Then, when he'd done
that, I let my balls and dick flop down onto his face,
and I revelled at seeing this big tough man lapping
away at me, and in feeling the ticklish sensation of
his tongue tip on my most sensitive parts.

But it was over then, and I sensed the power flowing
back to where it usually resided.  I climbed off him,
and stood there, as he sat up and looked at me.  I
handed him his tiny briefs, then picked up the plastic
shaping piece and handed that to him, too.  "Here, put
these on - I want to think I fucked a proper man."

He took the things from me, and  I watched as he slid
the thin cotton briefs over his big feet, then stood
up and pulled them up his legs.  He "settled" the
shaping piece down the front, and it was as if he
somehow regained his sense of manhood.  I silently
watched as he pulled on his pants, then his uniform
shirt, then as he sat down to pull on and lace up his
boots.  He stood up, looked down at the bed where the
cum from his back had left a damp line, then stared at
me.

"You should be in your cage, slave!", he said in his
normal tone.  "You'll have to work hard tomorrow -
really hard.  As you can be sure the tawse will be
ready to encourage you if there's the slightest
faltering in the effort you put in to it.  And if I
were you, I'd be certain not to talk, either -  a
slave who talks to other slaves isn't working as hard
as he ought, and will certainly get punished.  Do you
understand?"

"Yes, boss", I muttered.

"Be sure you do!  No talking, remember!"  As he said
this, he put his massive hand on the back of my neck
in an unmistakable gesture of exerting control, and
pushed me towards the door.

End Of Part 11