Date: Sat, 13 Sep 2003 00:03:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Harbour Master, Part 20

HARBOUR MASTER, Part 20

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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


Later that afternoon as we lay there comfortably in
each others arms, our legs twined together and our
dicks touching, Matt suddenly said "Steve, can I ask
you a big favour?"

I was in a good mood, as after bit of sleep (I'd
secured one of Matt's wrists to the bedhead, though,
just to make sure there was no escape attempt), and
some quite enjoyable mutual caressing, kissing and
jerking off, I was very relaxed and in that happy
state you often get in when you're in bed with a nice
body and you've shot a load.

"Ask away, Matt - although I won't necessarily do it!"

"Look, I'm worried about Bill.  All he'll know is that
we've both disappeared.  He'll probably have heard
that the doctor was attacked.... He won't know it was
you, and may think that some pervert went around the
place, maiming and even killing guys.... He might
think I'm dead... He'll be worried out of his mind.
Can we at least call him, and tell him we're OK?"

I could see the logic of his thoughts, and I didn't
want Bill to suffer as a result of Matt's callous
treatment of me.

"Look, Matt, I'd let you do that, but I'm concerned
that they may be tracing the calls - I'll think about
it, but they're pretty sophisticated at tracking down
where calls come from.  Even if we use a cell phone,
they can locate the cell it's in.  So I may have to
say 'no',"

"Please... "

"Look, I've told you I'll try.  I like Bill too, you
know.  He always treated me like a man, not a slave.
And I don't want him to worry.  I'll think about it.
Anyway, we've been here long enough - time for some
exercise for you."

I undid his wrist from the bedhead,  but in spite of
our bout of pleasurable mutual sex, I was still
concerned about whether he'd really accepted slavery
yet.  So I cuffed his hands behind his neck again -
with only one free at a time, I wasn't particularly
worried about him trying to break away.  Then I undid
his leg restraint, pulled on my shorts and a T, and
told him to follow me outside.

The pool looked really inviting under the hot sun.
There were a few folks sitting around the poolside, so
I asked them if they'd mind if I exercised my slave.
"If any of you folks are planning to take a dip in the
next half an hour or so, I'll keep him out of the
water, of course", I told them.

Most of them just shrugged, but a couple of fairly
good looking guys said "Hell, no.  It will be a real
pleasure to see a stud like that swimming - it really
shows off  the body, doesn't it?  And do you swim him
nude, as well as making him walk around like that?"

"Yes.  No point in stupid swimming costumes for
slaves."

The two guys were wearing really brief bikinis
themselves, and looked rather wistful, and told me
"Yes, there's some things that slaves can do that us
free guys can't.  We've got to have these stupid
things on, holding our balls and dicks in, instead of
being able to enjoy the water properly!  Still, that's
one of the penalties of being free, I suppose.  Do you
exercise him yourself? I'd imagine it would be good to
be in the water with him."

Actually, I wanted to throw myself into the sparkling
water, but to do so I'd have to take off my T and my
shorts... And my tattoo, and brand, would be a real
give away.

"Yes, I normally use him to pace me - or rather, I
pace him, as I'm fitter than he is.  He has to make a
real effort, though, else he knows I'll punish him if
he finishes too far behind.  But I've pulled a muscle,
so I'm laying off for a week or so, so he's got to
swim by himself."

I went up to Matt and undid just one of his wrists
from his collar.   "OK Matt, now you're going to do
ten lengths like this, then you can get out, and I'll
uncuff the other wrist and cuff this one, then you'll
do ten more.  And we'll go on like that until I'm
satisfied you've really had a good work out."

"But Steve, boss... I can't swim with only arm."

"Yes you can.  You'll have to work a lot harder, but
that's all to the good.  And, you know, swimming in
this pool is not as hard as swimming across a lake
with a lot of chain around your neck.... Or would you
rather we did that?  Both arms free, but a big weight
around your neck?"

Matt looked a bit sheepish, as I suppose he could
remember the incident at the lake, and ran across to
the pool and jumped in.  It was indeed good to watch
him working - it was tough for him, I know, and by
about the third "leg" he was visibly tiring.  I sat
and chatted to the two guys in the bikini costumes,
and we discussed the way Matt's muscles rippled as he
raced along.  Occasionally we would agree that he
seemed to be flagging, and I then stood on the edge of
the pool waving my prod at him - I think he knew I
wouldn't seriously prod him in those circumstances,
but it was a good reminder to him.

I think that if I'd been more experienced, I'd have
picked up on the signals that the two young guys were
sending me.  Looking back on it, I think they were
lovers who were looking for a third - or, possibly,
even a fourth, if you counted Matt, for an evening's
entertainment.  But at that time I wasn't
sophisticated enough to know the signals guys send you
when they're interested in you, and I wasn't sure what
to do about it anyway!  It's one thing to fuck a slave
who you control, or a guy like Bill who wanted to be
fucked, but I wasn't certain how to behave when guys
were freely entering into an arrangement with each
other as these two probably were.

They both had erections when Matt came out of the
water and stood in front of me for the last time.  He
was breathing so heavily and looked so tired out that
I decided to let him rest, and told him he could lie
by the pool.  I had to cuff both his arms, of course,
but he lay there on the warm concrete, the water
evaporating from his body, looking reasonably content.
 The two guys continued to stare at him as he lay
there - as he drifted into that half doze we all do
when we've been exercising and it's a hot afternoon,
Matt gradually grew one of his magnificent erections.
I don't think he was aware of it at all, as he was
dozing, but the two men stared at it with fascination.

"That's one magnificent stud of a slave you've got
there", I was told, and I agreed.  "I bet his ass is
tight, too, with all that muscle around!  He must be
one great fuck - or do you allow him to swing both
ways?"  I could see they were interested, but there
was nothing much I could do about it and so I kind of
closed off the conversation.   If only I could have
taken my own clothes off I'd have been there in the
pool, and then, who knows what might have happened?
As it was, it was Matt who had the freedom, and I was
constrained by my tattoos and brand.

Matt behaved so well for the rest of the afternoon
that when I went out to dinner that night I didn't
make him stand outside the restaurant for the patrons
to gawk at.  Instead, I gagged him and chained him to
the bed, then unplugged the phone "just in case", and
went out.

I got chatting to a truck driver in the diner, and saw
him using his cell phone.  I asked if I could borrow
it, and offered to pay for the call, but he said his
company picked up the bill and who gave a fuck!  So I
called Bill's private number - his rich mom gave him a
private line, Matt had told me.

Fortunately he was there, and he picked up straight
away.  I told him briefly what had happened, and that
he shouldn't worry about his dad.

"It's you I was worried about, Steve!", he said.
"After what dad did to you, and was going to do to
you, I'm not sure I give a flying fuck what happens to
him!"

Of course I told him not to be so stupid, as a man
needs a father, and he said he wanted to come and see
us.  I explained my fears about calls being traced and
so on, and that making arrangements like this just
wasn't practicable.  But he insisted, and, somewhat
against my better judgement I said that he could come
and see us - but that he'd have to wait for another
call.  With that, I rang off, and thanked the truck
driver.  As I saw him drive off into the night I knew
he'd be difficult to trace, and probably wouldn't
remember where he had used his phone to call Bill's
number in the City.

I took Matt the remains of my dinner home - I always
wondered what people did with those "doggy bags" -
and he ate it with relish:  he'd been good all
afternoon, so I was subtly rewarding him by feeding
him to take the edge off his hunger.  Matt was good in
bed that night, too, and I think the "buddy" thing may
have been starting to work.  It was good to have a
nice hard body to explore again, and the two of us did
all those things - apart from fucking - that good
friends do with each other in bed.  Of course I had to
chain one of his arms and one of his legs to the bed
in case it was just an act and he was only waiting for
me to sleep before trying to escape, but I did let him
choose which hand to manacle.  And in the morning, he
accepted bathing in my piss-stained bath water without
a murmur - I'm sure he was beginning to realise that
there were far worse alternatives that I could subject
him to.

We drove on across country, heading West, all day, and
I let Matt ride up front with me again, ungagged,
although I chained one of his ankles to the seat so he
couldn't run off.  And I now wore the handy holster
that came with the slave prod, so he knew it was
always "to hand" on those occasions we stopped for gas
and so on.   When I was driving, so my back was
hidden, I even had my shirt off to enjoy the hot, dry
air, and to anyone looking in we must have looked like
two workmen, or two friends, just driving along with
our shirts off.  Only the odd truck driver, perched
high above us, could see that one of the two men was
completely naked and thus a slave.

On the road like this there weren't too many
opportunities to teach Matt more about the practice of
slavery, except when I stopped for a piss.  It would
have been easier to let Matt simply piss in the trees
at the side of rest areas - I'd noticed a number of
slaves doing this - but I wanted Matt to really feel
the humiliation of having to do his business in
public.  So when it was time for a piss break I always
cuffed both hands behind his neck and insisted he went
into the slave rest room.  I know Matt hated having to
piss in front of the women slaves who always seemed to
be in there - even women slaves seemed to take longer
in rest rooms than men slaves, just as free women take
longer than free men.  And, of course, inevitably, he
needed to crap on occasions.

You'll all be familiar with the idea of the crap hole
for slaves - it's so practicable and hygienic.  By
making the slave squat right down over the hole, and
by having him pull his ass cheeks wide apart as he
craps, there's almost no mess - especially when all
the hair has been removed from his ass crack.  But
Matt couldn't pull his cheeks apart, as he was cuffed.
 He was about to go into the rest room when, flushing
with  embarrassment, he pointed this out to me.  I
certainly didn't want Matt's crap stinking up the cab,
or even staining the seat, so I simply tossed a
quarter to the slave who was in charge of keeping the
facilities clean generally.  And as part of his duties
he cleaned Matt when Matt had finished.  I just stood
there and watched as the slave told Matt to bend over,
then used his wash cloth, which he'd been using to
clean the urinals in the "free men's" room to wipe
Matt's ass, then sluiced some fresh water at him from
his bucket.  Poor Matt - as we walked back towards the
truck, the water still dripping on his legs, he looked
the picture of misery - I don't think he'd ever
imagined he might have his ass wiped in so public a
manner!

Escaping slaves was such an unusual occurrence - much
more so than murder, it seemed - that we'd made the
news headlines on CNN on the first couple of days
after my escape.  But, like all stories when nothing's
happening, we soon dropped out of the public's
attention and I judged that the police had probably
lost interest in us as well.  At least, I didn't think
there'd be frantic efforts to find us now, and I
judged it safe to call Bill again.  But I was still
cautious, and bought a cheap cell phone from a gas
station.  After I'd called Bill and made arrangements
to meet, I tossed it into the back of a passing truck,
still switched on:  if the police did then triangulate
to find the cell the phone was in, they'd be led way
off course.

I'd emphasised to Bill that he was to come in great
secrecy, and not to buy an airline ticket as they were
too easy to trace.  He journeyed on Amtrak, then on
the bus, and I'd told him always to pay cash, and
never to use his credit card.  I hadn't told Matt why
we chose to stop in the small town in Arizona we were
in, but for several days we holed up in a small motel,
and I carried on with my programme of rewarding Matt
when he was "good", punishing him on those rare
occasions when he displeased me, and exercising him
hard!  As a variation on keeping one hand cuffed to
his collar whilst swimming, I sometimes let him use
both arms but then manacled his ankles closely
together so he couldn't kick well - I wanted him to
really exercise all his muscles.

Every afternoon, though, I chained Matt to the bed,
gagged, for a couple of hours.  He thought this was to
allow him to rest, but I used the opportunity to go to
the town's tattoo parlour.  At first, the owner was
doubtful that his laser tattoo remover would work on
the amount of stuff across my back, and he told me
that it would anyway be extremely painful - the laser
is meant to burn up fine lines of tattoo, vaporising
the ink that then puffs out of the skin.  I had big
solid blocks of ink, and the guy told me it would not
be completely successful, and the vaporising ink would
hurt like hell!  That's why I limited myself to a
couple of hours - that's about all I could bear at one
time.

I didn't tell Matt about any of this - it was none of
his business, after all.  Our fun in bed had gradually
got more intense, and I'd started to fuck him again
once his ass was properly healed, but I now always
wore a T so he couldn't see my back.  It was tough,
sometimes, of course, as when Matt hugged me at some
intense moments, I wanted to shout with the pain as
his arms pressed into my back.  I also think he
wondered why I now no longer let him in to watch me
bathe, and only called him in to use my water when I
had dried myself and was dressed in my T again -
although he knew I wasn't shy, as my dick and balls
hung down below the hem of the T.

Although I was never as violent as I had been when I'd
taken him "dry", I always pounded Matt extremely hard,
both because it satisfied my own lust - I always got
slightly out of control as soon  as I started -  and
because it emphasised to Matt his new status.  I
usually cuffed his wrists to the head of the bed, but
allowed him sufficient slack so that he could grab and
hold his own ankles - I needed to fuck him on his back
as I wanted maximum exposure to his ass, and to be
able to plunge my dick in to its full extend with as
little impediment from his ass cheeks as possible.
Sometimes I jerked him off before fucking him, and
sometimes I sat in the armchair and watched him do it
himself - I think it's a lot more humiliating for the
guy to be made to jerk himself, then lube his own ass:
 gradually, therefore, I tended to make him do this
more and more often.  I don't know whether Matt, he
who had boasted of never taking it up the ass, really
adjusted to this constant fucking, and, frankly, I
didn't care.  Occasionally he'd try to push his dick
towards my hole when we were writhing around together
as "buddies" before serious fucking, but I found I
only had to tell him to stop, and he did so at once.

It was good to have a slave, I discovered, when you're
on the road - as well as having someone to play with
in bed, and to fuck whenever I wanted, Matt neatly
solved the problem of laundry - every night he had to
wash my shorts and the T I'd been wearing that day,
and it gave me a certain feeling of power to see the
big man standing at the sink in the bathroom, naked,
rubbing away at the fabric of my clothes.  In many
ways seeing the movement in his back, thighs and ass
as he scrubbed away at them was almost as erotic as
seeing the way he moved when he had been fucking the
female slave:  I knew that in both cases he was only
doing it as I had ordered it, and I revelled in my
power over him.

Bill's arrival was a complete surprise to Matt.  I was
exercising Matt when Bill appeared, and so at the end
of one of his "sets", there he was, in front of his
father.

"Bill!", Matt shouted in joy, and went towards his
son.  I was expecting this, and had my prod out of its
holster, ready.

"You've got another three sets to do, slave!", I
commanded.  "Now, get back in the pool, whilst us free
men catch up on old times."

Not even allowing Matt to touch his son after their
separation was a particularly interesting method of
showing my power over him, and I chatted to Bill in
one of the pool-side loungers as Matt desperately
raced up and down the pool, so eager to finish his
"set".  And I continued this method of control when
he'd finished swimming, too - I took Matt back to the
room, chained him to the bed, gagged him, and went
out, leaving the "do not disturb" sign on the door.

Even though we only had a light lunch, I deliberately
kept Bill out all afternoon - we did a bit of
sightseeing - so that Matt would worry about what was
happening.  Then I got Bill a separate room, so I
could go back alone to Matt.  As I went in to our
room, he looked at me, pleadingly, and mumbled
something through his gag.

"Shut up, Matt!  You know I don't like hearing those
noises through your gag.  Wait until I ungag you,
probably later, if there's something you want to ask
me.  I then went about my usual evening routine,
before telling Matt I was as usual going out to dinner
and that as he'd been good that day, he could expect a
doggy bag when I got back.  The poor guy was
stridently mumbling as I went out of the door, but I
deliberately didn't look back at him.  Bill and I ate
dinner, very demurely, really, then I went back to his
room with him.

As soon as the door was shut Billy grabbed me and
started to try to kiss me passionately.  I responded a
bit, meaning to be somewhat distant, but as the lad
continued to hug me, kiss me, and grope at my balls in
a frenzy of passion, I found I couldn't resist him.
Very gently I pushed him back on to the bed, then
opened his shirt, undid his belt, pushed his jeans
down, dropped my own shorts, and pulled my T over my
head, and lowered myself on top of him so that our
bodies were in contact all along, and I could feel his
youthful firmness under me.

"So, Bill. Do I take it you want a good fucking?"

"Oh Steve, yes.... "

"Loo, you've been back in the city - what's wrong with
all the guys there - surely you could have found some
to come and 'play' with you!"

"I tried, Steve, but it wasn't any good.  All the guys
at school were just immature compared with you - sure,
they were ready to fuck but they all shot so soon, and
none of them had your technique.  And I tried
advertising for older guys on the message boards, but
none of them turned me on like you do - they just
didn't have the bodies, the power, the.... the dick
that you have!  I really miss you, and dad, and it's
not been any good since I left and went back."

"So you haven't had sex since then?"

"Well, not good sex.  Sure, I've had a few guys
fucking me, and I've tried it myself, several times.
But it's not the same.  And I thought I ought to use
condoms, and it was vile - no sensation at all, none
of that lovely warm, intense feeling I get from you
and dad..."

"So shut up, Bill - I think you've waited long
enough."

I jerked him off, enjoying the extreme hardness of his
young dick, and especially the feeling of his 'skin as
I slid it on and off his dick head.  It really made me
miss mine - jerking off just hadn't been as much fun
since I was forcibly 'skinned.  Then I took a long
time to massage his hole, turning it into a part of
our sex play.  He was moaning with pleasure even
before my hot dick head touched his hole, and when I
pushed it in, his cries of sheer delight made me a bit
worried - I didn't want the people in the next room to
hear!  It was difficult, of course, to restrain
myself, but I didn't want to frighten Bill off, and so
I did my very best to fuck him slowly and lovingly,
watching his face to see how he was reacting to the
motion of my dick, and timing my performance to give
him the maximum pleasure.  But it's no good, is it?  A
man can't be like that for an entire session, and
towards the end I was just a bit rough as I really
plunged in to him to give myself the reward I
deserved, and shoot a huge load of cum up him.

"So, how was that, Bill?   Worth waiting for?"

Bill didn't answer - he seemed too overcome with
emotion, and just lay there, his arms wrapped tightly
around me, snuggling his head into that comfortable
space between my neck, tit and pit as I lay on my
side.  I let him lie like this for some time, then
started to tell him about our adventures, and how I
was paying back Matt for all that he'd done to me.

"It 's not that I particularly minded being a slave",
I explained, "I was, after all, guilty, and sentenced.
 But I worked really hard for Matt - I did a good job,
and put all I had in to it.  If he'd treated me right,
and acted as a just master to me, none of this would
have happened.  But first he had me tattooed, then he
had me 'skinned and tattooed - and you know that he
was going to get that doctor to 'slice' me, as they
say, to take my dick off.  And that's not to mention
the castration.  No slave ought to be treated like
that, and I had to do something."

"I agree", Bill said. "But you know, in law Matt had a
right to do all those things, as you were only a
slave:  if a master wants you 'skinned, then you lose
your 'skin.  You can't really say 'if he had only
treated me right...' - he was treating you right, as a
master can treat a slave, if he wants to.  But a lot
of us younger guys think that the slavery laws are all
wrong - of course it's OK to enslave criminals, but
they ought to have some rights.  Matt shouldn't have
been allowed to even think about having you 'sliced'
without getting a court order, and having to say why
it was necessary.  I don't know how you're ever going
to make dad pay you back for what he did....."

Then he continued, in a quieter voice  "Steve....
You're not going to 'slice' dad, are you.... Or have
him castrated.....?  It's just that I hope, well, I
hope you'll let him fuck me again one day when you've
finished really punishing him.  He is my dad, you
know."

"Don't worry, Bill.  I'm not so cruel as that doctor,
and there's no way I'd 'slice' or castrate a slave.
Matt was just foolish to go along with him, agreeing
to all that shit just because he was worried about his
business.  He deserves to  be punished, and serving me
for the rest of his life might just do it.  But I
don't know I'm going to let him fuck you, Bill:  part
of his punishment is that he now is the taker of men's
dicks, and I might choose to never let him use his
dick for fucking ever again."

Bill was silent for a few moments, then went on
"Steve, let me come and live with you."

"Don't be so stupid, Matt - you've got to finish
school, go to college.... All that stuff"

"But I want to live with you and dad.  That time at
Seatown was the best I've ever spent - two guys who
really love me, and who I love.... I want that, and
don't give a shit about school and everything."

"No,  Bill - you've got to complete your education,
then I'll think about it.  Look, your mom's a
successful lawyer, and you've always grown up having
everything.  You can't imagine what it's like to have
to do 'blue collar' jobs for the rest of your life -
sure, it was OK for your dad, as he WANTED to do them,
and he had a choice.  But I had no choice - I had to
work my but off at labouring jobs, and I don't want
you to end up like that.  No, Bill - it's back to your
mom's after this visit, then finish school and
college, and then I'll think about letting you come
and live with Matt and me."

"Now", I went on, "I'm going to let Matt see you
tomorrow, but you must be firm:  I'm going to leave
you alone with him, and he's going to want to fuck you
- he's not had his dick up an ass since you left, and
I know that you and he used to be lovers.  I'm going
to keep him partially chained to the bed, and, even
though I know you don't much like fucking, you've got
to promise me you'll fuck him, OK?  It's all for his
own good - he started off by fucking me, even though I
hated it, and now it's me who fucks him regularly.  I
want to reinforce this by making him see that the
other person he regularly fucked is now fucking him.
So you can touch him, kiss him, fondle him, jerk him
off, do anything you both like together - but if
there's any fucking, it's your dick up him, not his up
your ass, is that clear?"

"Yes, Steve.  I don't like fucking much, and I really
like a man like you to use my ass, but as it's in
dad's best interests, I'll do as you say."

Although Bill wanted to snuggle up to me and spend the
night, I explained to him that I needed to continue
training Matt, and at about 11 I went back to our
room.

Matt grunted and tried to question me as I went in,
and I snapped "Look, you fucking slave, how many more
times do I have to tell you?  I don't like to hear all
that crap coming from your gag.  Wait until I take it
out, then ask me whatever questions you have, if I
agree."

I knew he was desperate for news about Bill, but I
studiously avoided any reference to him as I got ready
for bed, and I went through the now-normal nightly
process of jerking Matt off, lubing him, and fucking
him - although it was a bit of a strain, having had
his son so recently.
I slept with my arm around him, my dick nestling in
his ass crack as I like, but I didn't get all that
much sleep - Matt was clearly deeply disturbed, and so
didn't sleep well, and the constant movement he made
with his body caused me to have an upset night as
well.  So I was in a bad mood the next morning, and
was quite stern with him when I unchained him and told
him to go and bath.  "And be sure to shave yourself",
I snapped.  "I'm sure I felt some stubble up your
crack last night, and I don't want my sensitive dick
to get sore!"

He still couldn't speak, and it wasn't until I took
him out to the pool for his morning workout that I
finally took his gag out.  As soon as I did, he
started "Please, boss.... "

"Shut the fuck up.  And get into that pool.  You know
the routine by now!"

"But please, boss, where's B....."

"Slave, do you want to feel the prod again?  Now, get
into that fucking pool, and get started!"

Just after he'd begun, Bill came out to join me
dressed in tiny Speedos, and sat watching Matt work
out.  During a change in cuffing between sets, he of
course saw Bill, and was desperate to go over and
speak, but I again waved my prod at him and made him
continue the exercises.  And when he'd finished, he
still couldn't speak to Bill as I'd told Bill to go
and swim as soon as his father had finished.  I led
Matt back in to our room, and chained him to the bed,
and he looked out of the window to see Bill climbing
out of the pool with all the lithe muscular grace that
his lean body possessed.

"Please, boss.... Please..."

"Yes, slave?"

""Please let me go and speak to Bill."

"Who?"

"My son, Bill..."

"Matt, you're a slave.  You no longer have a son.  All
family ties are automatically dissolved on
enslavement! I lost my wife and kids when I was
enslaved, and you'd better reconcile yourself to no
longer having a son. A slave has his owner, his
master, and must focus all his attention on that man -
it's just not appropriate for a slave to need any
other form of relationship."

"Please, boss, please...."

"I might consider allowing you to meet a free man I
met by the pool today. He was interested in your body,
and expressed a desire to fuck you.  But I think all
the previous times you went to bed with him, you
fucked him.  It was at that time when you used to
boast that you never took it up the ass, and only gave
it.  I'm prepared to allow you to meet him, no, to
spend the night with him, but you are not to fuck him
- I will decide if you're ever going to be allowed to
fuck again, and it's not now.  And, of course, if he
wants to fuck you, your ass must be as open to him a
it is to me - I have given him permission to use your
hole, and I expect complete obedience.  Is that
clear?"

"Yes, boss, if I agree, can I see..."

"IF you agree?  What's to agree?  You're a slave, and
I'm your owner and have told you how you are going to
act.  You neither agree nor disagree - you obey!  I'd
advise you to shut the fuck up, before I change my
mind."

Matt just stood there, and I think my words had got
through!  I picked up the phone and dialled Bill's
room, and he came bounding in.  The reunion between
father and son was touching, I suppose. And I think
Matt thought that I was going to leave them alone -
but who'd want to give up the pleasure of seeing a
lithe young stud fuck a strong muscular ass,
especially when it's his dad's?  And, later, I
couldn't of course resist joining in - well, who
wouldn't?  It was quite like "old times", as all three
of us rolled around in the big motel bed.

Poor Matt, though - last time it had been like this
he'd fucked Bill and me, and now we both took it in
turns to plough his ass.  Bill tried to keep his part
of the bargain, even though he wasn't doing it as
enthusiastically as I was, but he did put a brave face
on it:  he even suggested to me, loud enough for Matt
to hear, that we both fucked Matt at the same time.
He'd seen pictures of two dicks up one hole, and
thought it would be really sexy to have my dick
pressed tight against his, held together by the
muscles of Matt's sphincter!  It was an interesting
idea, and I filed it away for future reference, but
instead went and sat in the chair to watch him as he
again went hard into Matt.

I did allow them some private time together the
following morning, then insisted that Bill left and
went back to his mom - I pointed out to him that the
police would redouble their efforts to find us if he
left without her permission, and he saw the sense of
this.

Matt and I didn't move on for two more days, whilst
the tattooist got rid of the last of the words from my
back.  My back was still a mess, though, and you could
still make the letters out as the skin was a slightly
different colour still, and the tattooist said he
thought it would not get better, even if I tanned
deeply.  We thought on, and I submitted to further
sessions and had a huge, "primitive" tattoo made all
over my back.

Matt was very surprised when I peeled off my T the
next morning a the start of "exercises" and said I was
going to swim against him, so he'd better be on top
form!  Provided I wore "boxer" type swimming shorts,
and not a Speedo, my tattoo was covered and so I
looked like a normal freeman frolicking with his
slave.


End Of Part 20