Date: Tue, 05 Jun 2001 22:23:06 -0500
From: Bren _ <narraboth@hotmail.com>
Subject: Hard Sell/Chapter 2

The following fictional story deals with sex among males.  If you are
offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it
is not allowed, stop reading now!  Care enough about yourself and
humankind to practice safe and consensual sex, as observed in this story.

And hey guys, send me some comments!


It's summer and hot as hell outside. The sun is still blazing, high in
the sky at 7 p.m. The bright, wet heat is a shock after the cool dimness
of the bar. The air itself seems to be sweating.

"What a day for the fuckin' piece of shit not to start," I mutter more to
myself than to you, letting go of your shoulder with a final shove as we
walk through the door. I'm squinting at the sea of parked cars. "So
where's your car, boy?" I demand impatiently, as if my inconvenience is
somehow your fault. I stare at you, waiting for an answer; I look you up
and down, as if appraising a steer at a livestock auction; I check the
bulge in your crotch, pretend to hide a smile, then look again into your
eyes. You're surprised at me calling you "boy," and confused by my
question and its challenging tone.

"Hey, boy!" I step closer to you, in your face. "Let's get a move on, I
got business to take care of. You gonna help me out or not?"

"Yeah, sure-I just thought-"

"Well don't think, boy, just get that tight ass movin' to your car!" I
give you a harder-than-friendly slap on the butt. You smile like it's all
just a joke, and start walking. "You slip off that suit coat before you
keel over, don't you know it's over a hundred out here?" I add, following
behind you. You're happy to do as I say. I watch the substantial muscles
of your shoulders and back rippling as you strip off the coat. You feel
me prodding you with my eyes as we make our way through the rows of cars.
You're sweating now, your white dress shirt sticking to your body by the
time we finally get to your rental car. I stand right near you, next to
the driver's-side door, as you fish the keys out of your pocket. You feel
clumsy and awkward because of the intensity with which I examine your
every motion, and confused again when I hold out my hand for you to hand
me the keys.

"Oh, that's okay," you stammer, lamely, "just tell me where your car is,
I'll give you a ride over to it. This is a rental."

"Listen to me." I'm in your face again. My insistent right hand is on
your shoulder again. I've pushed you back against the car. I pause, as if
thinking how to get through to you. "I asked you as nicely as I knew how
just to do me a favor. You said you would, but ever since, you've done
nothing but stall around and make all this more difficult than it has to
be." I squeeze harder near your neck, and, incredibly, take a step still
closer to you. Since you can't retreat, you lean back against the curve
of the car, so that your chest escapes contact with mine, and your
stomach just grazes the hard muscles of my own. But your crotch is
pressed close against mine. Again, in spite of the tremendous heat of the
air, you feel the waves of heat from my body.

It's time for a decision. Do you push me forcefully away, and run? Or do
you behave in your characteristic, submissive way? While you consider the
alternatives, I'm smiling, sneering, laughing at you for allowing me to
take you even this far. Your shrinking dick feels the motionless bulge of
my balls challenging it to respond. Your eyes drop.

"Okay," you answer, trying to put a little manly heft into the tone of
your voice, "You go ahead and drive." You don't look me in the eyes as
you answer, instead you're focused on the brilliant white teeth of my
sneering grin. I keep your butt pushed against the car till you drop the
car keys into my hand. You know you've made yet another bad mistake with
me, but you're telling yourself that you're only playing along for a
limited time. I unlock the door and wait until you've walked meekly
around and climbed in the passenger side before I get behind the wheel.

The car is an oven, but I don't turn on the air conditioner, even though
we're both dripping with sweat. Instead, I put down all the power windows
and lock all the doors with the power lock. I grab your jacket, neatly
folded in your lap, and toss it into the back seat.

"Won't be needin' that, boy!" I say cheerfully. "Get that tie off, too."
I'm getting you used to taking orders now, and you quickly untie the tie
and toss it back with the suit jacket. I size you up again while I back
out and start driving through the parking lot. "You got a hot body under
all those fancy clothes, doncha, boy?" I demand with a sarcastic tone.
You are silent; you seem to be eyeing the power lock switch. "You better
answer me, boy, you think you're too good to answer me?"

"No, of course not," you answer, reasonable, trying to bring the dialog
back to something like a normal conversation. But I'm looking at your
crotch.

"You got a big cock in those fancy pants? I felt you pushing it against
me, boy, it pissed me off to have a little stud like you gettin' fresh
like that, you know it?" I've stopped the car now, behind a solid row of
parked cars, just before an enormous black pickup truck with dark tinted
windows that you identify instantly as mine. I put the car in park and
turn off the engine. I'm silent for a moment; you feel my rage building.
But when I finally speak, my voice is calm, controlled, sure. "Take it
out," I order.

"What?" you pretend not to understand.

"Take it OUT," I say, louder, "take out that dick you're so proud of and
show it to me."

You're chuckling softly now, nervously, "No-oh, no," you laugh, and
pretend to reach for the power lock button. But I'm quicker than you, I
overpower you instantly. With a sudden lunge of my entire body, I'm all
over you, I twist your right arm behind your back, pulling up hard. You
can't help crying out. I clap my other hand over your mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, you damn sissy," I hiss at you, "or I'll rip your
goddam tongue right out of your cocksuckin' mouth. You know you asked for
it, showin' it off like that, now you just settle down and stop that
squealin'."

You've stopped pretending to struggle now, and I change to a more
cajoling tone. "Now. I'm not gonna hurt you, boy. You're my good buddy,
remember? You're just gonna help me start my truck, remember? Then we'll
say 'adios,' right? Just reach down and flop out that big dick for a
minute, show it to me, then I'll let you go. No more than that." I pull
up a little on your arm to help you decide. You don't hesitate more than
a few seconds more. Keeping a tight grip on your arm, I lean back slowly
to get a better view, smirking.

Awkwardly, with your left hand, you reach down and slowly unzip your
trousers. You reach inside, struggling to get your hand into your briefs
while still twisted into the painful position I've got you locked into.
"Go ahead and undo that belt boy, can't you see that's not gonna work?
You best stop stallin' around, you know I'm gonna get what I want one way
or another."

I can see you believe what I say. Your dexterity improves as you quickly
unbuckle your belt, unbutton your pants, and pull the top of your briefs
down, flopping out your huge, sweaty, half-erect cock. You hang your head
in shame at what you're being forced to do. I'm laughing at you, laughing
at your helpless, naked cock, exposed to me in the open car, in this
public parking lot.

"Whoo-ee!" I howl in classic Texas cowboy style, "will you LOOK at the
size of that pecker! How come it's so big, boy? Just cause you like
helpin' your good buddy so much?" I stop laughing when you fail to
answer.

"Boy, it seems to me that a stud like you who's been made by another man
to take his cock out, against his own best judgement, better be a little
more respectful. When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me,
and from now on, if you don't, you're gettin' some sure punishment, you
understand that, boy?" I twist your arm to emphasize my question. Your
cock twitches with the sudden movement, puffing up still more erect.

"Okay, okay, yes...what do you want from me?" you beg.

"What I want is some respect, boy. You've given me nothin' but DISrespect
ever since I laid eyes on you, and I'm damn sick of it. I want you to
call me 'Sir,' for one thing, I'm not the one with his dick out, you
understand me?"

"Yes...yes, SIR," you say it, and your saying it makes me laugh again.

"You get those balls out, too, boy."