Date: Sat, 21 Feb 2009 23:28:59 EST
From: EddyRiha@aol.com
Subject: games with stefan 28

The usual disclaimers apply.  This is a work of fiction, and those folks
who are prevented from reading such fictional works either by age, by moral
preference, or by law should not read any further.

All of the characters presented here are fictional representations,
including the narrator.  Some of the events and characters are inspired by
actual events and people I encountered in my younger days, but the
presentation here of events and characters in no way is meant to portray
actual, historical persons and events.  It's just a story.

All stunts were performed by professionals.  Do not attempt these at home.

The new story possibilities indicated by the ending scene of this chapter
are from a suggestion made by Matt.  I will be developing that direction in
the story in Chapter 29.

No political cartoonists were harmed in the writing or reading of this
story.

If anyone is offended by the premise of the story, or by explicit sexual
acts, please do not read any further.  Why, indeed, have you read this far?


Games With Stefan

by eddyriha

Chapter #28-The Camping Trip (Part 2)

We walked for awhile silently, with Stefan stumbling now and then when his
bare feet encountered loose stones or sharp twigs on the dirt road.  When I
had him walk ahead of me, I could smell the dried cum on his face, and it
made me even hornier than before.  But I made myself wait.  We needed to
reach the place I'd chosen to camp, before I played any other games with
Stefan.

Stefan seemed almost walking in his sleep, he seemed so exhausted, by the
time we reached the top of the small hill where we would be leaving the
road.  We had walked nearly four miles, and I'm sure Stefan would want to
sleep in after having carried a backpack so far.  But I was feeling full of
energy, and I knew that I'd work Stefan's ass all weekend--and he would
love every minute of it.

"This way," I said, as I pulled gently on Stefan's leash.  He stopped and
let me lead him to the right, off the road.  We walked through a thick
cluster of young evergreens, mostly hemlocks and balsam firs, and along the
height of land.  Stefan stumbled a bit, so I slowed down.  But he didn't
complain.  He knew better.  His feet may be a little sore and his legs and
back may be tired, but it was all part of the game.

Finally, we broke through the last of the evergreens and reached a small
clearing.  There might have been a cabin here at one time, but a couple of
years earlier when I was camping up here with me parents, I had discovered
this hideaway.  The clearing is grassy, with some soft, springy moss in
between the clumps of wild grass.  And in every direction, we would be
sheltered from anyone passing by, as the entire clearing was surrounded by
the hemlocks and balsam firs.

I set down my pack against a boulder in the center of the clearing.  Then I
untied Stefan's arms and carefully lowered his pack beside mine.  He
stretched his bare arms and yawned.

"No time for resting," I said.  "We need some firewood.  Find some."

Stefan looked around him.  "I need a flashlight."

"No flashlights.  You have enough moonlight to see by."

"But the moon doesn't shine under the trees."

"You can see well enough," I told him.  "You don't want me to punish you,
do you?"

I could see him debating that idea.  A part of him probably wanted the
punishment, but another part of him just wanted a warm campfire and a good
night's sleep.  That part won out, as he turned silently toward the trees,
his leash hanging loosely down the center of his back.

I heard him crashing around in the underbrush, muttering under his breath,
as he poked around, trying to find loose sticks.  As I listened, I set up
the tent and rolled out our sleeping bags.  I zipped the two bags together,
as I had seen other couples do on camping trips, so Stefan and I could
share intimacy during the night.  When everything was ready, except for the
campfire, I went in search of my boy, who had wandered a ways down the
slope, away from the trail.

I found him with his arms full of sticks.  "That all you found?" I said.
My voice startled him so much that he dropped all the sticks he had been
carrying.

"What a clumsy slave!" I exclaimed.  "Pick them all up, now!"

Stefan scrambled around, trying to gather up all the sticks he had dropped.
While my eyes had adjusted to the near darkness, it was clear he could
barely see anything at all.  Without him being aware of it, I picked up
some of the sticks, then told him to start marching back to camp.  But he
had trouble seeing the way, so I took the lead, guiding him by jerking his
leash slightly so he would know when to turn a little to the left or to the
right.

Finally, we made it back to camp.  Before I began to start the fire, I tied
the loose end of Stefan's leash to an extra tent stake and then, after
making the boy get down on all fours, I pounded the stake into the ground.
The stake was some distance from the fire ring, which was part of the
punishment for having dropped the sticks.

"Stay!" I commanded.  He stayed, like a good little doggie.

Once the fire was going, I turned my attention back to Stefan, who was on
all fours, as close to the fire as the leash would let him get.

"You were a bad slave," I said as I approached.  "And you know what that
means, don't you?"

"Bad slaves are punished," he replied.  He was looking down, knowing that
his punishment was about to come but not wanting to do anything to provoke
me to enhance the punishment.

"And how do you think I should punish you, boy?"

"However you want to punish me, master."

>From my pocket, I pulled out the rubber bathtub plug that had spent much
of its life inside Stefan's ass.  It slid in easily, and the lower edge of
the plug caught on the inside of his sphincter, which held it in place.  He
moaned a little as the plug settled into place.

Then I knelt behind him, to one side, and began to spank his ass, hard,
alternating between left and right cheeks.  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!
SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!
SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!

In the firelight, I could tell his ass was becoming red, so I stopped
spanking him and started kneading the sore skin, massaging it firmly and
deliberately.  He was moaning and purring, caught between the pain and the
pleasure of the moment.  I saw that his cock was fully erect and was about
to go into another dry cum.  But I couldn't permit that, not during the
punishment.  So I paused in my attentions to his ass and, after pulling a
cord from my pocket, I tied it around the base of the shaft, effectively
stopping the cock from going any further toward pleasure.

"Please!" gasped Stefan.  "Please, master!"

I slapped him hard on the ass.  "No, slave, you have been a bad, bad boy.
And bad boys don't get to cum."

He whined and moaned a little in protest, so I slapped his ass hard again.

"No cum for you tonight," I said.  "You will have to earn the right to cum.
But that will wait until the morning."

I slapped his ass a few more times, then went over to the fire, where I
made us each a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  I sat by the fire, facing
Stefan, and ate my sandwich in silence, observing him watching every
mouthful being chewed.  He was still on his hands and knees, like a good
slaveboy.  But he was growing hungry watching me eat.

When I had finished and had taken a long drink of water from my canteen, I
stood up and walked over to where Stefan was patiently waiting.  "Here,
slave," I said, as I laid the second peanut butter and jelly sandwich on
top of my hiking boot.

He reached forward to pick it up, but I slapped his hand away.  "No hands,"
I said.  "Your mouth only."

He looked up at me, thought about saying something, then looked down at the
sandwich.  Slowly, carefully, he took a corner of the sandwich in his teeth
and bit it off.

"Don't take all night, slave," I said.  "You have two minutes to finish
it."

He buried his face in the sandwich, chewing it quickly and dropping bits of
it on the ground.  I was becoming aroused as I watched the naked boy
obeying my commands and eating his sandwich off my hiking boot and off the
ground.  When he finished everything but the crumbs and broken bits, I made
him eat them, too.  By the time he was finished, his face was smudged with
dirt, and it still smelled like my cum.  But he had a smile on his lips as
he looked up at me.  Damn! but that boy could take anything I dished out,
because he knew that I loved him with all my heart.  And he knew that no
matter how humiliating our games became, that love would never change.

After awhile, I unhooked his leash from the stake and walked him over to
the fire.  I had him kneel between my legs, with his face in my crotch, his
nose to the zipper of my shorts.  His back was to the fire, and I watched
the light of the flames dancing on Stefan's tanned skin.  I rubbed my
fingers gently over his back, and he purred into my crotch.  I hadn't
intended to do anything more that evening, but the combination of his
purring and the feel of his skin under my fingers caused me to go hard.  He
immediately sensed the change and looked up at me.  "May I suck it,
master?" he asked.

I nodded.  "But you can only use your mouth.  No hands."

So he took a painfully slow moment (from my perspective) to unzip my shorts
and pull down my boxers.  He nuzzled my erection with his cheek, then his
lips, then slid his tongue all the way down along the underside of the
shaft.  I adjusted my legs so he could have better access, and I placed my
hands on the back of his head to help him stay in place.  He looked up into
my eyes, smiled again, then opened his peanut buttery mouth and took my
cock all the way in.  He held in place a moment, then began sliding up and
down, his lips forming a perfect wet seal on the shaft, and the head
hitting his throat with each stroke.  My hands continued to rest in his
thick dark hair, and he did all the work, pumping his mouth and throat up
and down on my cock.  In a few minutes, I was ready to shoot.  He sensed
it, and pulled back, licking his lips.

"Master shoot it on my face again," he said.

"OK, finish me off.  And you can use your hands this time."

He gripped the slippery shaft tightly in his right hand and began
vigorously pumping it, aiming the head at his face.  Both of us felt the
sudden rush of cum a split second before it splattered all over his right
cheek, his nose, and his forehead, before dribbling across his lips, chin,
and upper chest.

As soon as I finished coming, he milked the last drop of cum onto his
tongue, then swallowed it.  And I massaged the cum on his face into the
dirt and dried cum already there, giving the boy a smelly, dirty facial
like no other.  I had marked him as my own, and he loved that fact.

"Bedtime," I said to him, and I walked him over to the tent.  Once inside,
I undressed and climbed in between the two sleeping bags I had zipped
together.  I wanted him to join me, but he hesitated.

"Slave shouldn't sleep with his master," he said quietly.  "Slave was a bad
boy today."

"True," I replied.  "But it may be too cool for you to sleep outside
tonight."  I climbed out of the sleeping bag.  "Wait here a moment."  I
went back outside, found a couple of my ropes, and returned.

I tied the boy's wrists behind his back and then his ankles together.
"More," he said.  So I pulled his feet back so I could tie his ankles to
his wrists, causing his legs to bend at the knee.  Then I pulled Stefan's
bound body into the sleeping bag with me.  He snuggled his face against my
chest, and in a matter of minutes we were both sound asleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In the morning, I awoke first and set about untying the boy.  In the
process, he woke up and smiled, rubbing his eyes as soon as his wrists were
free.

"Good morning, slave," I said to him as I kissed him on the cheek.  His
skin tasted like dried cum.  "Time to get up.  We have lots to do today."

I climbed out of the tent first, followed closely by Stefan.  I led him
into the bushes off to one side of the clearing, and I had him stand
against on old trunk.  My bladder was full, and I let my piss go all over
the boy's feet.  It was warm and yellow and splattered across the tops of
his feet and in between his toes.  He giggled at the warm, wet felling on
his feet.  We both knew this was exactly the kind of thing our parents
would never let us do, but for us it was another one of our games.

I untied the cord around his cock and balls.  "Now your turn.  Pee on your
feet."  He complied readily, gushing a full blast of piss all over his own
toes.

"Stand there until breakfast is ready," I told him.  While I started up the
fire again and boiled some water, I watched him.  Stefan stood quietly, his
feet rooted to the same damp spot where both of us had pissed.  He was
looking down, his hands behind his back, as he knew better than to touch
his cock.  When he was in such a submissive pose, I wanted to fuck him
right then and there. but I resisted.  We had a whole day in front of us,
and I didn't want to rush the pleasure.

I stirred oatmeal into the boiling water, and when it thickened, I called
Stefan over.  I had him kneel down beside a flat rock, and I tied his hands
behind his back.  Then I spooned half of the oatmeal onto the rock.  "Eat,"
I said.  "All of it."

He buried his face in the oatmeal, trying to mouth every last bit of it
before it grew cold.  I quietly ate mine and watched his efforts, trying
hard not to laugh at the damp bits of oatmeal that were sticking to his
cheeks, nose, chin, and upper lip.

When we both were finished, I dressed myself in shorts, t-shirt, and
sneakers.  I also made a couple of sandwiches, which I put into a knapsack,
along with our two canteens, several pieces of rope, some insect repellent,
and sunscreen.  (I did put a change of Stefan's clothes in the knapsack,
but I didn't let him see that.)

"Ready to go?" I asked as I hoisted the knapsack onto my back.

"Like this?" he asked, as he looked down at his naked self.

"Why not?" I replied.  "Who is going to see you way out here?"

He looked up at me, some fear in his eyes, but he didn't say anything.  I
tugged at his leash, and with his hands still tied behind his back, he
followed me, his bare feet slapping reluctantly on the ground.

When I approached the dirt road which we'd hiked the previous evening, I
stuck my head out cautiously, and when I didn't see or hear anyone coming,
I crossed it, with Stefan still following.  Once we were some ways into the
woods on the other side, I halted.  "Go on ahead and lead," I said.

"But I don't know where to go."

I pointed toward the hillside that rose upward at a little distance through
the trees.  "That way, and then climb the hill."

So we climbed the mountain, working our way between trees and shrubs,
Stefan not having the use of his hands to guide him.  We were not on any
trail, but since I'd been here before, I knew the way ahead was open enough
that we could climb without much trouble.  Even if one of us was naked, his
hands tied behind his back, a rubber bathtub plug wedged in his asshole.

And the whole way up the mountain, I has an unobstructed view of his body,
his firm sinewy asscheeks, his tanned legs.

When we reached the summit, both of us were warm and sweaty.  I peeled off
my t-shirt and drank from my canteen, giving Stefan also a drink.  Then I
untied his hands to give him the opportunity to stretch his arms, before I
had him lie on his chest on a large flat rock at the summit.  There wasn't
any view here, since the summit was crowded with small spruces and
hemlocks.  That's why I figured this was a safe spot to play another game,
since there wasn't much chance of anyone choosing to climb this trailless,
viewless mountain.

The rock had been warmed somewhat by the morning sun, and Stefan said he
was comfortable when I asked him how it felt.  Then I took four ropes I had
brought with me and tied one to his left wrist, then the loose end I tied
to the nearest young tree.  I took another and did the same to his right
wrist, then to each ankle.  The boy now was stretched across the rock, his
back and his ass upwards.  I knelt beside him and began massaging some
sunscreen into his skin.  The last thing I wanted was for him to be
sunburned while we played this game.

"Well, what have we here?" a voice suddenly asked.

I turned quickly, rising to my feet as I did.  There, a few feet away,
stood three boy scouts.  The two older ones, who seemed to be around
fourteen, were dressed in the usual green scout uniform shirts with
matching shorts.  The younger boy, who was probably twelve, was also
wearing a scout shirt, which was completely unbuttoned.  But in place of
the green shorts, he was wearing rather tight bicycle shorts, from which
two cords extended, the ends of which were grasped tightly by each of his
companions.  It didn't take me any time to figure out that the ends of the
cords that I couldn't see were tied around the younger scout's erect cock.

"Well, what have we here?" one of the older scouts repeated, a smile
breaking out across his face.  I too was smiling: I had found some other
boys who enjoyed the same kinds of games Stefan and I loved to play.