Date: Sun, 21 Oct 2007 21:32:47 EDT
From: Glaucon55@aol.com
Subject: Masturbation Chronices 2

The Chronicles, Tale No. 2
The Boys from Lebanon

Disclaimer:

If you are not yet 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials
of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This story is for
adults, and contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys
with older men.  This story is completely fiction, all descriptions and
names are also made up, and any similarities are truly just that, purely
similarities.  These are fantasies for sexual private sexual enjoyment, not
for emulation in real life.

This current story line is entitled "The Masturbation Chronicles" and will
be a series of discreet stories focused around the theme of uncontrollable
masturbation and its consequences.  I would truly appreciate suggestions
from others for scenes or settings, and of course descriptions of real
scenes.  Often my stories have been woven from tales shared with me by
those of you who comment on my stories.  So please consider writing to me.

Please contact me at glaucon55@aol.com.


I first saw Habib Mansour and his buddy Melik Oman in the corporate gym
during lunch.  I could hardly keep my eyes off of them...fuck they were
beautiful.  I learned later that Habib, 26 had emigrated from Lebanon
during the Israeli occupation and resulting collapse of the country, six
years earlier.  His good friend, Melik, 24, had immigrated with him and
they had come to Southern California to go to school.  I was not surprised
that at their age, they would be considering college, but I later
discovered that was merely a story they concocted for Immigration.  Once in
the U.S. after a year at Glendale College, they looked for jobs and both
had been hired as security guards for the Bank where I worked.  Somehow,
they had managed to obtain passes to the corporate gym and were there
flexing their muscles for the panting cunts who worked in the big time
banking and law offices upstairs.  The two boys were as horny and spunk-
full as you could imagine, and their strict religious training made their
sexual options limited.  In their home lands, it was forbidden to touch
women outside of the bonds of matrimony, even for those who had been raised
as Christians.  Now in America, they still could not believe their good
fortune, to be living in a place where pussy dripped to have big boy dicks
ream them out and rub their clits into submission.  The boys worked out on
Friday afternoons before they hit the bars, hoping to score a tight cunt on
Friday nights, to relieve the full sacks of their sperm laden testicles.

I knew that I would eventually have them, but the question was how to get
it done?  Habib was 5'10" of Christian Lebanese boy trash.  In the eyes of
his mother and his family, he was the dutiful son, handsome and pure of
heart.  But at night when he ground his prick into the soft material of his
bedding, dreaming of sucking tit and finger fucking pussy on his way to a
long night of screwing, he was far from the obedient son.  His perfectly
tanned skin and black hair were complemented by the most beautiful hazel
eyes...eyes that looked so tender and innocent, but behind which was a
cunt-hound of insatiable proportions.  The muscles on this boy were
artfully distributed, his moulded pecs flashing two firm conical tits that
pointed at a sharp downward angle away from his muscular chest.  Black hair
swirled around both nipples, and then joined in a thick strand that
descended down to his navel, and then further into the waist of his baggy
rayon shorts.  His arms and legs, like those of his good friend, were
covered in whorls of dark curly hair, and when I saw the two of them in the
shower I realized that the forest clogged the deep valleys between their
firm but flat glutes.  Hell, they both had hair on their fingers and
toes...bursting with Middle Eastern testosterone, oozing sex appeal.  Melik
had dark brown hair, and his eyes were brown pools into which you could
lose your heart.  He had a mustache where Habib just had his constant 5
o'clock shadow.  When they spoke to the women who flirted and fawned over
them in the gym, they had the most charming and innocent smiles and
polished manners.  But when they were smoking at the back of the building,
at times when they should have been on work patrols, they were cursing
those same women as sluts and whores, and wishing they could fuck them till
they squealed.

It became my mission to track these "two potential terrorists" [such a
simple but effective plan] on behalf of the Office of Homeland Security.
And if I could, I should make sure to interrogate them thoroughly.  Of
course I had no background in law enforcement, and they were about as
likely to be terrorists as the pimply faced kid who delivered the mail on
our floor.  But one look at them and you knew they were dangerous men,
seeking to fuck every woman they could.  With those perfect bodies, and
those ungovernable libidos, they were in obvious need of supervision.  I
was determined to help my country, both of them, and my own bursting lust
by tracking them, and eventually putting their cocks under my supervision.

And speaking of cocks, they had beautiful ones.  Habib had a dark 7.5 inch
shaft (when erect), that curved even when soft, dangling towards his right
side.  The shaft was thinner at the root and thicker near the head hanging
five inches when soft, with a fat knob, and a deep piss-well.  While there
was a profusion of hair above the cock, beneath, and around the testicles,
there was a strange absence of the hair on the orbs themselves.  The thick
fur then reappeared under the heavy, hanging ball sack and exploded to fill
his ass crack.  Melik was just under two inches shorter than Habib, but
thicker hung, with four inches of flaccid cock, which like his friend, was
thinner at the root, but tapered and widened to the head where a bulbous,
oversized glans crowned it.  But thin in Melik's case was actually a thick
cock root, and when his prick went hard, the weight of the knob held its
upward curve down so it bowed from the body.  His testicles were fat eggs
in a taught sack full of spooge and resting under his cock root.

I used my bank security clearance to find out not only their personnel
information, but to gain access to their lives.  They had been in the
country for six years and were living in an apartment in Glendale near the
college where they attended.  The apartment was respectable, but its most
important feature was the fact that it had two bedrooms, so if necessary,
the boys could bring home their bitches and modestly retire to their
respective rooms to fuck pussy without interruption.  Within two weeks, I
had carefully broken into this domicile and put in sound and picture
devices to tape in their bedrooms and in the bathroom.  Habib had a habit
of sleeping in the nude, and when he awoke in the mornings, he would walk
naked into the john with his morning hardon to piss.  He would lean
forward, bracing his hand against the wall above the toilet, his hair
sticking up in every which direction, yawning as his heavy piss stream
filled the bowl.  Melik was almost as delightful, pulling his prick through
the opening of his boxers as he scratched his ass, flexing his long toes as
his morning tumescence made it take time to drain his bladder.  In the
shower they would lovingly soap their firm bodies in ways that discretion
forbade at the gym, and on more than one occasion, both men masturbated up
to the point of panting, but did not cum.  Seeing them spread their legs,
lean back and stroke their throbbing organs was better than an video on
u-Tube or on porn sites.

Jesus, I love Middle Eastern men.  They are so fucking repressed or naïve,
but with some of the most beautiful bodies and cocks in the world.  They
are also constitutionally precluded from masturbation to ejaculation or sex
without a pussy---and I thought Catholics were the most repressed men in
the world?  Both Habib and Melik would grind their cocks into their beds at
night, raising and lowering their firm butts as they drove their cocks into
the sheets, but neither of them reached the gasping, groaning ejaculations
they would achieve when they brought girls home on a Friday or Saturday
night.  The girls were usually drunk, and the boys would stroke their hair,
look into their eyes longingly, and eventually took them into their
respective rooms for a good night of fucking.  Shit, these guys were almost
inexhaustible...managing three to four cums when they finally got their
pussy into the sack.  Somehow, I had to intervene into this process, and
find a way to make them desperate to cum...but only on my terms.

The first inkling that something was wrong in their perfect world of
motorcycles, willing bitches and dance clubs came when letters arrived for
both of them indicating that they would have to submit to interviews held
by Immigration.  Of course, I was going to be immigration, but the office I
had set up in an empty suite in one of office buildings downtown seemed
more than official.  In the letter, there was a hint that their activities
with young women had drawn the attention of law enforcement, and pictures
of them sucking face in clubs, coupled with revealing but incomplete ones
of them with girls in their apartment, caused both to have pause.  They
dutifully called the number I had provided them, and indicated that they
would make the interview.  They asked if they should bring a lawyer, and I
assured them that this was a preliminary conversation and that perhaps we
could resolve our concerns "informally."  A lawyer might make this
adversarial, and if they wanted to avoid the courtroom, it might be better
if they just came in on their own for a conversation.  They readily agreed,
and I had a week to prepare for them.

I spent much of my time, reviewing the tapes and recordings I had made.
Fuck, there's nothing like a straight guy screwing a chick---fucking like a
starving dog chewing on a bone.  Melik liked to have the chick ride him,
rising and falling on his lap so that his slightly curved stalk, thick and
fat knobbed, would slide up and down the cunt's gripping trough, rubbing
her spiked clit on his stiff ridge, making her whine and squeal with
intense sensation.  He would stretch out on the bed, his legs hanging over
the side, the balls of his muscular feet just resting on the floor, his
toes gripping the carpet so he could hold himself steady as the girl of the
night rode him like a mechanical bull.  In this position he could face her,
reach up and tweak her tits, and he could watch the girl close her eyes,
throw her head back and lose control of herself...riding the thick prick to
one, two, sometimes more orgasms until her clinging cunt would drag Melik's
viscous, thick load of spooge from his full balls.  Sometimes, he would
wear a condom...if the girl demanded it, he obliged.  But other times, Melik
like his good friend in the other room, would ride bareback, loving the
feel of pussy clinging directly to his cock, and the feel of his own spunk
lubricating his prick as he shoot wads of the pungent cream into a girl's
clinging hole.

Habib was not so passive as his younger friend.  He liked to be the rider.
I would learn later that Habib's fantasy was to put on chaps and a cowboy
hat, and dog-fuck a girl like a bronco buster.  The girl would be on her
hands and knees on the bed, with Habib porking her from behind like a dog,
often gripping her hair with one hand and pulling her head back as he
either pinched her tits, or fingered her clit with the other.  Corkscrewing
his sideways curved cock in and out he would ride and finger the helpless
bitch till she squirted pussy juice from her cunt in a fierce orgasm.  Then
Habib would twist the weakend girl around on the bed, and push her legs up
to her chest, and allowing him to screw her deep until she either came
again, or until the sight of the women's helpless submission made Habib
fire bolt after bolt of his copious crud deep into the girl's quim,
drenching her cunt and making his fuck even more delicious.

When Habib and Melik arrived at the faux office I had concocted, I met them
in an ante-room, and took Melik in first.  I explained to both of them that
this was a discreet investigation, and that my hope was that they could
clear up some issues that our investigation had discovered in an informal
dialog, avoiding a trip to our downtown offices in a squad car with
handcuffs.  They looked like deer in the headlights, their eyes wide with
fear.  They readily agreed that an informal discussion of whatever was
troubling us would be better, and they were sure there was a mistake.  I
thanked them for their cooperation, and took Melik into one room, and let
Habib cool his jets while I started to execute my plan.

I gave Melik an opened can of soda, and a glass filled with the remaining
contents.  As I left and closed the door, I noticed him nervously drinking
down the soda, and I smiled.  In the other room where I returned, I offered
Habib another soda as I began to review his file, and fill out forms which
it appeared I would be using in the interview.  Within minutes, both men
had passed out cold, laying their heads down on the tables in the
respective rooms.  I then lifted both respectively, and put them in a
rolling canvas cart, like those used to collect laundry at hotels.  I
covered them both, changed into a service uniform, and used the service
elevator to take them down to a waiting panel truck in the basement.  By
the time they awoke, I had them well out of the city at a site I've
developed over the years.  This time, it had the appearance of a compound
with cells.  Each of these beautiful men was stripped to his briefs, and
locked into a full-sized cell, separate from one another and out of each
other's sight.  Both were blindfolded, and were secured in chairs I had
purchased through a mail order auction of used dentists' office supplies,
and then modified.

Above the head rest of each chair I had attached a "T-Bar" to which their
arms were now tied with soft, but strong rope.  At the foot of the
reclining chairs, I had installed sets of stirrups which allowed me to
secure their feet apart by approximately three feet in width, just cupping
the heels, and exposing the muscled soles of each of their strong feet and
wriggling toes.  The angle of the inclination exposed their firm, muscled
stomachs and moulded pectorals...but even more nicely splayed were their
always slightly tumescent cocks, respective nut sacks, and hidden, hairy
anal portals.

I went into Habib's cell and pulled up a stool next to his chair, as he
tugged and pulled at the ropes and belts that bound him, and mumbling
incoherently behind the ball gag that was fixed in place with straps around
his head.  I rolled my instrument table next to me as I sat, and began to
speak to the Lebanese hunk.

"You did not think we would be fooled by your lame attempts to blend into
the community with these low key jobs as security officers.  We're on to
you Habib, and for the next few hours you will be interrogated as if you
were in Guantanamo.  So your best play is to reveal the operatives in your
group-cell, and the names of others who are working with you."  Habib
flicked his toes and seemed to protest as his fingers scrabbled in the air,
helplessly, over his head.  His firm muscles rippled as his struggled to
speak and insist on his innocence, and the sweat of fear began to appear at
his temple, mixing with his deodorant under his arms, adding to the pungent
ball sweat on his heavy, hanging nut sack.

"Now nod your head if you are prepared to answer my questions truthfully."
Habib nodded his head frantically, and I smiled a cold, appreciative
acknowledgement.  "Good, that's very good.  Now nod in a similar manner if
you are prepared to admit your participation in a local terrorist cell, and
will provide me with names.  If I could have seen behind his blindfold,
Habib rolled his eyes, and then he tilted his head back in frustration
tinged with desperation.  How could he admit to something he knew nothing
about...they would not believe him, and he would be in the same situation
again.  He hyper-ventilated and shook his head in a pathetic, pleading
attempt to protest his innocence, still gurgling behind his gag.

"I'm sorry, that answer will not suffice; we're going to have to take this
to the next level."  My hands were trembling with anticipation, as I
reached down to the edge of Habib's firm six-pack, and my fingers slid
across his panting stomach.  The sudden sensation made him lurch, as much
as his bonds would allow, and his stomach went concave as if by hollowing
his stomach he could somehow avoid my fingers.  He could not.  I crooked my
index finger, and began to gently scratch the firm, rippled stomach
muscles.  Habib now bellowed into his gag, and his head shook back and
forth as if to say "no" as emphatically as he could...but my fingernail was
relentless, gently scratching across his abdominals and reaching his
helplessly exposed navel cavity, where the profusion of soft black hair
filled the cavern, and overflowed both towards his pecs and down to his
briefs.  For whatever reason, fear of his situation, or because he was
spread out and physically vulnerable, Habib had gone half hard under his
briefs.  Now, as he reacted to my finger probing his unprotected navel,
tickling the sensitive inny nub in the well, and the remainder of my
fingers spreading across the plain of his stomach, his cock lurched into a
unconscious stiffy.  My burrowing finger only made that curved snake throb
more, and soon a wet spot expanded from where the soft white cotton clung
to his pulsing cock knob.  I then reached with my other index finger, as I
rooted in his flexing navel, to scratch my nail on my other index finger
across the fat expanse of his leaking glans penis.  I found the wide,
sensitive flange and begin a gentle but determined scratch of the
nerve-studded corona, avoiding the glans itself for the moment.  Ah fuck
what a site, as Habib drove his ass into the table, pulling frantically at
his bonds, babbling incoherently behind his gag in hopes of escaping this
unexpected form of interrogation technique.  Under his briefs his glans
expanded from the irritating tickle, and his wide piss lips burbled out
clear, sticky pre-fuck as his hips bucked to escape my unerring fingernail.

"I am going to continue manipulating your body until you agree to give me
the information I want...do you understand?" I intoned in a flat, almost
bored voice which barely betrayed the pounding of my heart as I had this
Lebanese slab of beef under my total control.  His head continued to move
back and forth as if to say "NO", but in his panic, he did not realize that
what he should be saying (if only to get me to stop), was "yes."  I moved
my finger that was tickling deep in his navel, up until I reached his near
nipple.  Ah, the rigid cone had already spiked when my nail scratched
across its turgid erectile tissue, Habib thrust his chest up and to the
side to avoid the unexpected sensation.  I would learn later that Habib
liked girls to rake their long nails over his chest briefly during
foreplay, but could not stand even sucking on his nipples, much less
pinching, tweaking, and twisting.  Before today was over, they would get
that treatment, and much more.  I sucked my index finger and then, in
conjunction with my thumb, I returned to the slightly bruised flesh where
my nail had gently scratched.  Now, my wet fingers twirled around the stub,
pulling and tweaking as the lubrication sent new shooting sensations from
Habib's chest to his unruly boner.  The boy was a pre-cum factory, and he
was juicing like a cunt, his big boy clit still getting a good flange
scratch from my determined index finger on my other hand, making the stiff
prick flex from the deep tickle.  This was the kind of teasing masturbation
these boys needed--all highly sexual young men needed, and Habib was going
to be begging and babbling for me to help him ejaculate if I knew anything
about milking helpless men and boys.

Hours later, when I had Habib on his hands and knees with his arms bound
behind his back and his legs attached to a spreader bar, with a small anal
prod with course, lubricated horse hair covering its knob gently sliding up
and down his rectal passage, I was able to learn some vital information
that had nothing to do with national security.

It seems that Habib had been sent by his parents out of Beirut when he was
twelve to stay with his Christian Uncle and his family in the Northern
countryside.  Unlike Habib's family, his Uncle's were not raised in the
conservative, repressed culture of devout Muslims.  Instead, both his
cousins had gone to school with other Christian children, some of them
European and American, living in Lebanon.  Habib had been put in the room
with his two older cousins, Aziz and Terik.  Aziz was fifteen, and Habib
was assigned to sleep in his bed in the small house with only two bedrooms,
one for the boys and one for their parents.  The first night Habib, whose
body was physically matuare but not yet producing spunk, had awoken to feel
his nicely sized pre-teen boner being gently stroked in Aziz's teenage
fist.  The long teenage fingers lubricated with a combination of Habib's
pre-teen lube and Aziz' spit, were twirling softly over and over the
bloated glans of the younger boy.  The pre-teen's prick was lewdly sticking
out of the fly of his pajama bottoms, thrust up caught by the roiling fist
of his cousin who focused his fingers on the tender, ticklish cock head.
Involuntarily, Habib groaned from the delicious sensation as he emerged
from his sleep, his prick straining toward the tickling fingers that were
making him squirm against his older cousin's body.  Aziz whispered into his
ear in a firm, threatening tone, to be quiet.  But the young boy, not
accustomed to anyone's touch on his already 4.5" erection, was not able to
contain himself.  Aziz pulled the boys body over and on top of his own,
using his legs to trap Habib's legs.  He quickly took a sock on the floor
next to the low bed and thrust it in Habib's mouth to muffle the grunting
boy.  Then the other hand to hold the younger boy's hands over his head and
away from stopping the methodical masturbation of his helpless boy bone,
Aziz continued his merciless milking.  With a look of determination and
lust, Aziz' fingers continued to dance around the fevered prick tip of his
cousin making the boy buck and stretch to escape the persistent, delicious
frigging.  Beneath Habib's taut buttocks, clenching and grinding down from
the overwhelming sensations on his cock knob, Aziz's own 7" erection was
sliding between the damp pajamas clinging to his cheeks, pushing the sweat
moistened material of the younger boy's pant bottoms up and against his
anal slit, rubbing and prodding that sensitive portal, sending another
tingling sensation through the shivering boy.  The more Aziz masturbated
his cousin, the more the younger boy's grinding ass was masturbating the
older boy's turgid weiner, making it leak its own sticky lube, shooting
electric sensations through the big teen.

The noise of the two boys grappling in the one bed, woke Terik in the
other, and the thirteen year old crawled out of his bedding to come over to
assist his brother with whom this game that had been going on for over two
years.  He took control of Habib's arms, pulling them over Habib's and
Aziz's heads from behind both boys.  Terik's own thin, sticky 5" pricklet
was thrust out of his baggy boxer shorts, rubbing over the face of his
younger cousin as he sat behind them at the head of the bed.  Now Aziz's
hands were free to roam uninhibited over Habib's torso, one hand scratching
over the boy's already excited nipples creating feelings the young boy had
never experienced.  The other hand now sped up its sticky assault on the
pre-teen's fat, wet glans, his thumb scrubbing back and forth, driving
Habib into gasping and grunting.

"Aaaaawwwwww, no Aziz, please...stop....don't rub me...what are you
doing...aaahhh, noooooooo! his high pitched boyish voice squeaked into the
dirty sock gag.  Aziz, fearful that his parents might hear his cousin's
entreaties, slapped his younger cousin hard enough to get his attention,
quelling the loud groaning and pleading.  Soon, the straining boy's
pricklet begin to throb and pulse, as Habib thrust his hips up in the air
uncontrollably and his dry boy-cum burst upon him.  For ten seconds, he
felt he was going wild, his toes curling tight and his hips bouncing, while
Aziz's ruthless fingers twirled round and round the bloated boy boner,
tantalizing the innocent boy.
"Aaaaaeeeeeiiiiiiii....aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh.... aaaaaaaggghhhhhhhh!" Habib had
squealed into the sock that effectively gagged him, and still his cousin
thumbed the aching prick head, enjoying the instinctual response of the
inexperienced boy, his cock flexing to accept more of the masturbating
caress.

After that night, for the next two weeks, Habib was the toy of his cousins,
learning how sexual an animal he was, cowed by the older more worldly boys
and their friends.  His pricklet enjoyed constant dry cums, as his cousins
and the other boys, took advantage of their younger visitor.  For his part,
in spite of his protests, Habib loved the sweet masturbation of his
pricklet, amazed by the sensation created by the dancing fingers, and
suddenly aware that sex was pleasurable.  He knew it was wrong, and even
though he did not play with himself when he returned to Beirut, he knew
that sex would make his penis throb with pleasure.  He waited patiently for
the next six years, hoping the time for him to marry would come sooner than
later, and end his furtive frottage at night that had to stop just before
his cock exploded in need and desperation.  There were occasional wet
dreams, and while wrestling with another boy he had ejaculated reflexively
from the contact and rubbing of the bodies against one another.  But until
he went to the United States and was freed from the constraints of his
family's strict observance, Habib had ached for sexual release like that he
had experienced with his cousin years earlier.  In America he no longer
needed to masturbate because girls were more than willing to make love to
his turgid cock.  Now, he was about to return the days of his cousins'
humiliation of his handsome manhood, and the incredible sensations of his
bulging prick head being masturbated ruthlessly into submission.

I slipped on a glove that I had developed for myself, but could not stand
to use when I masturbated.  The index finger, fuck finger, and thumb were
all covered in the same horse-hair bristles that were now driving the bound
and gagged man nearly insane on the small anal prod secured in a sliding
sleeve up his bung.  The ticklish bristles now sliding back and forth in
Habib's rectum, gently scrubbing his walnut sized prostate, were wrenching
the same groans and shouts into his gag that his cousins' masturbation had
evoked years before.  Once my glove was was on my hand, I dipped the
fingers into a bowl of lubricant, and reaching up under the bound man, I
grasped his involuntary erection.  I started by just grazing the shaft,
sliding the firm bristles, softened by the lubricant, up and down the thick
pole.  With my other hand, I reached under and scratched his stiff teats,
adding to the delicious sexual arousal experienced by the confused captive.
What had this to do with terrorism...was this what was happening at
Guantanamo in Cuba to the Muslim detainees?

"You see Habib, we must be sure, we know what you are hiding...and as long
as you continue to dissemble, I'm going to have to find ways to get you to
confess."  These words slipped from mouth with easy detachment, while my
fingers were busy doing their magic on the hunky body trussed next to me.
My teasing fingers finger reached the corona and glans of Habib's fat cock
head, and that's when the squealing really began.  I did not want to make
his cock sore, so I dipped the finger-tips in more lubricant, and then just
barely grazed the circumcision scar, the flange, and the glans of the
helpless security guard.  I watched as his toes alternated from clenching
tight and flicking from the intense tickling, and his fingers scrabbled
furtively, but there was nothing he could do and nowhere to move his
thrusting hips but into my merciless fingers.  The slow pistoning of the
small buzzing anal prod, coupled with the edging of his flexing glans by my
slowing moving bristle covered finger-tips, made Habib a drooling madman.
For one hour, I brought him desperately close, his wide piss lips opening
to burp sap as if precursor to an imminent ejaculation.  But I would stop,
and whisper earnest comments about his need to cooperate, giving him enough
respite to allow me to start again, thumbing his fat prick tip and gently
scratching, pinching and tugging his sensitive nips.

I would have loved to slip my tongue into his ears and lick them out,
giving him one more sensation to deal with, but I contented myself with an
occasional scrabble of my fingernails across his gasping abdominals, or by
reaching down to his feet hanging over the edge of the chair, my bristle
covered finger scraping up and down his flexing, crinkling soles.  By
simply using these gentle, almost purely ticklish types of touches, I could
make Habib's prong, so unused to tactile manipulation, pulse and throb from
the unusual but stimulating handlng.  After an hour, with his prick
desperate to squirt, I pulled the erection back between his legs and
attached an automated, vibrating pussy that I had purchased and
modified. Once a cock was inserted into the soft plastic sleeve, with its
interior backed with an emulsion that allowed the plastic to move and mould
to the cock that was intended to fuck it, the nozzle was tightened around
the shaft at the preferred distance between root and corona.  In this case,
I latched it just behind the flange so that the overwrought cock knob was
basted by the lubrication and soft plastic, but the vibrating and squeezing
from the auto-suction, was constrained to the cock knob.  As much as Habib
wanted to cum, his shaft would not be stimulated, and at the angle his cock
was being pulled back between his legs, he would remain hard but unable to
spunk.  Time for me to leave him with words of encouragement.

"Habib...I truly regret that you have chosen to be so uncooperative.  I had
hoped that we could make this an easy conversation, but unfortunately, you
have not made that conversation possible.  I am going to have to speak with
your friend, Melik.  I hope he is not as stubborn as you."  Habib did not
turn his head toward me, he was too exhausted from his thrashing and
efforts to avoid the milking he had been enduring, but he barely shook his
head back and forth, his eyes closed and perspiration falling from his
face, implying "no....no...."  I switched on the cock pump as I walked out of
the room, and smiled as I saw Habib's toes curl one more time from the
sweet sucking that was now pulling on his fat cock knob.

Melik was in another room, unable to hear anything that had transpired.  He
had been awake for almost an hour, naked, and stretched out on his
reclining chair.  His smaller frame was taughtly bound, with legs already
spread and attached to the stirrups and his arms connected over his head.
He had no blindfold, nor gag.  I came in wearing wraparound dark glasses
that obscured my face and a cold expression that would leave him nervous
and wondering.

I pulled up another chair, and another rolling table with my instruments
and tools.  Melik turned his head, and his eyes widened when he saw the
table and its bizarre assortment of implements.  "Your friend has failed to
cooperate with us, and I must tell you that was a mistake.  By implication,
you are now associated with him as a suspect.  If I do not get answers from
you that make sense, I will be turning both of you over to federal
authorities for detainment."

"What do you want...we are innocent.  We are here lawfully, we immigrated,
check our papers.  What have we done?"  His accent thickened with fear, and
his eyes and expression told me I had him without even trying.

"Papers are easily forged, but more importantly, we know that legal
immigrants have joined in other countries like Britain, to form cells for
terrorist activities.  Just because you and Habib immigrated legally does
not mean you are not conspiring to engage in actions detrimental to the
government of the United States.  And look at these pictures of you and
Habib with white women in your apartment.  It's clear that you are
interested in engaging in promiscuous sexual activity, what other lawless
behavior are you both involved in?"

Melik looked at the photos of himself and Habib, their thick prongs wet and
glistening in the photos, lodged into the tight pussies of various snatch
they had brought to their apartment to fuck.  "How did they get these
pictures..." Melik's confused brain pondered, embarrassed and humiliated by
the exposure of his private life before strangers---how many people had
seen his prick reaming out pussy with wild abandon.  As he stared
mesmerized at the blown up pictures I had placed on a music stand, I
switched on a television with a dvd player and he suddenly saw edited clips
of he and Habib, performing in the same scenes on video that were captured
in the still photos.  As he watched, dumbfounded, I pulled out a head
harness with a mouthpiece.  I pinched his nostrils, and as he opened his
mouth to object, I slipped the mouthpiece in and quickly buckled the
harness.  Melik's eyes opened wide and he bellowed into the effective gag,
fearful of what was to come, especially when I screwed into the female
opening of the mouthpiece a male nozzle attached to a quarter-inch length
of tubing.  The tubing was connected to a water bottle hanging from a
rolling stand, like ones you would see in the hospital providing liquids to
patients in their rooms.  Once I finished my preparations, I opened the
flow of liquid from the bottle by loosening a clamp on the tubing, allowing
a stream of tasteless clear liquid to flood the tubing and enter Melik's
mouth in a modulated drip that he could not stop but was slow enough to
allow him to swallow without gagging.  Then I spoke.

"This liquid will help you do the right thing, if you are indeed innocent,
Melik.  The drug will encourage you to speak to truth."  As he listened,
thinking I had given him some type of truth serum, I smiled inwardly
because what I had given him was a kind of roofie combined with a drug that
would make him completely susceptible to suggestion.  In addidtin, I had
spiced it with enough Viagra to ensure the unflagging cooperation of his
thick, fat knobbed cock.  I walked out of the room, looking at my watch,
figuring it would take about fifteen minutes to take full effect.

When I returned, I could smile openly since Melik's eyes were shut, and he
seemed to be panting softly.  His six inch cudgel, almost too thick for my
hand to fit around, curved wickedly up to his firm abdominals, and its
wide, deep pisswell was overflowing with sticky, clear sap that left a pool
on his stomach in and around his navel.  Jesus, what a huge cock knob...a
glans for the ages.  No wonder the girls in Melik's bedroom always purred
and squealed when he fucked them, that knob could batter a clit into
submission and would fill any womb and cervix snugly, touching every joy
spot.  And it made sense why he would hiss and grunt when girls gave him
head, slurping their small, tight mouths around his leaky glans, letting
their tongues dance around his nerve studded corona and lashing his
circumcision scar until he spat wads of thick spooge over their tongues and
deep into their throats.  Fuck, I wish I had been on the receiving end of
each ejaculation I had caught on film over the past three months...but I
would make up for lost time--that was for sure.

"Tell me Melik, are you ready to provide me with the information I seek?"

I almost could not understand his response, his accent was not only thick
now, it was slurred by the action of the drugs.  "What is it that you
waaaannt...I don't know anything....pleeeaase...pleaaassseee..." I let one hand
rest on his chest, and my index finger began a gently scratch just beneath
his mounded pec...and as I spoke, his nipple thrust its angry head out of
the black halo of hair that circled the erectile nub as if to try and
protect it.

"I will need to ask you questions about your youth Melik, will you agree to
answer me truthfully?  Tell me that you will answer me truthfully."

The dazed boy nodded his head, and said through his slurred voice, that he
would answer me truthfully.  Now we were cooking.  He was surrendering to
the power of suggestion, and whatever I wanted to know, and whatever I
wanted to do, the weaker of the two young men would let me do.  My creeping
finger pushed through the protective forest of hair around his nipple, and
with unerring precision, my nail reached the nubbin and began a to gently
scratch the ticklish tit tip.

"AAaahhhhhhh....nnnnnooooooo....whaaat are you doooing...ooohhh..." Melik
crooned as his chest thrust up involuntarily, seeking more of the delicious
attention for his whorish tit.  The hard nubbin fairly throbbed from the
sensations caused by my experienced fingernail, bringing a blush to the
dark face, embarrassed by the reaction I had drawn from him.  No masculine
or upstanding Muslim man would admit to enjoying worldly pleasures of his
body outside the secret confines of his wife's bedroom.  No matter the sins
committed, there could be no public admission, and certainly no surrender
to another man...an abomination.

"Yes, that's it Melik, now you're being more cooperative.  Just keep
cooperating and you will be able to go home.  Do you understand?"  My index
finger was joined by my thumb, and I grasped the stiff teat and twirled my
fingers around it...plucking and tweaking.  Melik nodded his head, without
even opening his eyes, deep within the stupor caused by the drugs and
willingness to do anything to go home.  But his nipple stayed firm and his
chest continued to slightly thrust upwards to enjoy the masturbation of his
tit flesh.

The drugs were clearly doing their magic, and he was disoriented and
confused at best, fully susceptible to whatever I would suggest.  I leaned
down and whispered into his ear: "Tell me Melik, when did you learn how to
spit cum...to masturbate that big penis of yours, the one that got you into
trouble with us....If you tell me how you got your lessons in ejaculation
and masturbation, perhaps I can let you go."  My question would have been
inane to a sensible man, but the drug cocktail, the bondage, the isolation
and the sexual stimulation were all working to render Melik into my hands,
and confuse him about what he needed to do to obtain his freedom.

"Ooooooowwwwww....I cannot say...I should not say...."  I increased the speed
of my tweaking his nipples, and added to that the unexpected use of the
index finger and thumb of my other hand on his defenseless cock head
beneath his damp briefs.... "Aaaaaiiiiiiieeee.... No, no, oooooooohhhhhhhh
God...help me...."  My thumb grazed back and forth over the taut circumcision
scar, flicking the fat lobes of his glans, making him flex and his ass
reflexively grind to escape the artificial sensitivity induced by the
drugs.  What a gorgeous animal, helpless and responding by instinct, and
now leaking his own sticky clear pre-snot.

"Tell me, Melik...answer my question, you want to go home, so answer my
question."  My fingers continued their dual assault on his stiff teats and
his drooling prick knob, teasing out the answer as his hips rose and fell
on the chair, bouncing in response to the focused stimulation.

"Aaaaaggghhhhh, God....aaaawwwwww....I...I...I learned when I was a boy...at the
scout camp...aaaaahhhhhh...an older boy....aaaaaggggghhh."  Melik burbled out
a story of his youth, one of the many stories boys and men hold to
themselves, especially straight Muslim men who cannot admit to themselves
that their cocks are more important than gender or orientation, and that
sexual relief and satisfaction know neither.  At a scout camp in the
Lebanese summer of Melik's eleventh year, he met an older boy, Hassan, who
was fifteen.  Hassan had immigrated with his family from Turkey because of
his father's work for a Turkish company in Beirut.  Often alone at home as
a boy, Hassan was a tall and handsome, with a man's body at fifteen, and a
brooding countenance.  He had learned at an early age from other boys how
to enjoy pleasures of the cock, and how easy it was to introduce other boys
into secret games.  The more Western life in Turkey had also given Hassan
exposure to the internet and culture that was forbidden to most Muslim
youth.  The boys at the summer camp were easy targets for his handsome
presence, and the two week timeframe made it easy to have his pleasures
without risking too much chance of exposure.  He quickly picked up the
admiration of the husky eleven year old boy at the camp.  Once he noticed
the hero-worship of the younger boy and his relatively mature pre-teen
body, Hassan persuaded the scout master to allow the two to share a
tent-cabin.

The second night, the younger boy awoke to sensations he had never
experienced.  His boy prong had been erect on more than one occasion in the
morning, but he had learned to be patient and it would go down before he
had to piss.  But on this occasion, he was wakened by a tickling sensation
on the knob of his pricklet.  Hassan's big thumb, sticky from Melik's own
lubricant, was stroking back and forth over the boy's bulbous prick tip.
Melik instinctively closed his thighs on the hand that was inside his
sleeping bag and between his legs...but the strong fingers persisted and the
sensation overwhelmed him.  He suddenly spread his legs wide, his toes
pointing from the stunning sensation.  He alternated opening and closing
his thigs, but he could not stop the sensations or his surrender to them,
and within minutes, he felt himself breathing faster, his ass grinding into
the sleeping bag, and then his hips involuntarily thrusting up as his prong
expanded and his glans went glass smooth.  Hassan kept strumming the boy's
rod, thumbing the overwrought knob, and making the boy hunch and jerk.  At
one point, Hassan, had to put his hand over Melik's mouth to prevent his
loud hissing and groaning from waking others in nearby tents.

Melik knew what he had allowed Hassan to do was wrong, but he was afraid of
what the scout master might say if he told what happened and asked to move
to another tent.  Maybe the scout master would wonder why he spoke of such
nasty things, and worse yet, what if Hassan denied it and claimed it was
Melik who had initiated the actions and that he, Hassan, had been forced to
stop him.  No, it was best to keep quiet...and he did.  So that was not the
last night Melik learned the pleasures of masturbation.  The bigger boy
used him for pleasure, making him service his thick, curved prong.  By the
last two nights of the two-week camp, Melik was sleeping in the same bag as
Hassan.  After carefully masturbating the older boy's 9 inch cock, bringing
him to panting, shuddering, huge ejaculations, he would be required to lie
on his back on top of Hassan's long, lean torso.  The older boy would use
his long, strong limbs to hook around and stretch Melik's legs, while his
arms went under the younger boy's armpits to trap him on top of his bigger
body.  Then he would insert his thick digits into the younger boy's mouth,
making him lick the fingers on one hand.  Once Melik had humbled himself
like a baby, sucking the thrusting fingers that explored his mouth, and
tickled his platte, Hassan would grip the eleven year old's thick 4"
erection and begin a slow, languid process of milking his young tent-mate
to two and sometimes three explosive, dry cums.  Melik would buck as the
overwhelming sensations drove him to involuntary gyrations, and played a
brave game of resistance.  But Hassan was easily able to fend off the boy's
feeble attempts to pull the older boy's fingers off of his pulsing penis.
For his part, Hassan would distract him by pinching, plucking, gently
twisting and scratching his strangely sensitive tits, occasionally tickling
him under his arms, in his navel, and across his belly.  When Hassan's
long, thin fingers would reach under the boy's testicles and search out his
private and sensitive anal slit, the sensation would make him lose control
and leave his penis undefended for Hassan's experienced fingers to roil and
work, leading inevitably to the incredible, writhing cums.  The constant
distractions would also prevent Melik from having the strength to resist
the older boy after the first cum, so his ticklish glans was often trapped
in the rolling, sweat and pre-cum lubricated fist of the older boy.  Melik
and his penis secretly loved the amazing sensations which were produced by
the full plam strokes up his shaft and over his aching knob.  Over and over
the older boy's soft and yet calloused palm would slide up and down the
shaft, and across the knob, driving the younger boy relentlessly up to the
wrenching cums...where his pricklet would throb and pulse for up to fifteen
seconds, especially if Hassan would circle his fingers and drag them
against the corona as the boy thrashed his way through his cum.

As Melik slurred his way through this memory, my own hand stroked up and
down his now mature, thick, fat knobbed shaft, mimicking the route taken by
Hassan's teenage assault.  My other hand strayed from his nipples to his
testicles, and tickled under the heavy nut sack, now so full and tight
under his shaft.  Finally, I breached his most sacred portal, a location
forbidden except to idolaters.  I slipped on a finger vibrator and slid it
between his firm ass cheeks now struggling to keep me at bay.  Finding his
ragged anal slit and dancing up and down the lips as Hassan once had, I
upped the ante by inserting my finger-tip just inside his sphincter after
patiently outlasting his stubborn and determined resistance.  Melik's cock
hardened reflexively after the buzzing intrusion just inside his nether
hole made the sexy captive whine and plead for something, a hoped for
reprieve but most likely it was release: "AAAaaaaaaagggghhhhh
Gaaawwwwwddd...' he howled with his sexy accent.  "What are you doing to
me....ooooooooohhhhhh pleeeeaaassse....oh pleeeaassseee... aaaaaahhhhhh."  I
paused only long enough to attach clips with electric wires on his
protruding, rubbery nipples, his frenulum, underneath his balls, and to
slide a small, short prod with a similar wire into his unprotected bung.
When I turned the current on suddenly at these locations, the shock (no pun
intended), was another distraction to this now big boy, and his penis was
left once again open to my ruthless ministrations.  As long as I was
focusing attention on his bulging prick, Melik could hardly focus.  Only
when I slid the prod up two inches into his rectum and it begin delivering
its wicked electrical buzz on his defenseless prostate, did Melik put up a
fuss.  To `calm' him, or rather distract him, I fully activated the
electrical charges that buzzed and zapped his ripe titties, pulsed through
his cock knob and balls, and made his ass muscles squeeze tight from the
affect on his prostate.  His ass lifted off the table, and he helplessly
tried to shut his legs as if to squeeze out the pulsing intruder as if it
was a stubborn turd.  But the bonds held him fast and the prod did its
wicked magic, driving him helplessly to a gigantic ejaculation.

I went back to masturbating his shaft, but this time with the same glove I
used on Habib.  After two minutes of agonizing resistance, the overwhelming
tickle on his bloated fuck tip, coupled with the ruthless invasion of his
rectum and zapping electrical flicks of his tit nubs, sent Melik over the
edge.  I of course reduced my efforts so that the tension grew and grew,
making him climb up to his shattering cum with agonizing patience.  With a
mightly thrust, he lifted his mid-section and screwed his betraying cock
one last time into my torquing fist.  Squeeze and twist, squeeze and twist,
I applied a gentle but determined corkscrew motion around the sticky glans,
now smooth as glass.  Melik squealed one last bellowing cry for help or
fuck lust, and rope and after sticky rope of tangy Muslim pride shot high
above his body and landed with a splat on his chest, face and stomach.
Shit, it was almost volcanic!  "AAAGGGGHHHHH....AAAAHHHHHHH....
EEEEEEIIIIIIIOOOOOOO!!!" he screamed as his huge ejaculation ripped through
his body, my fist kept spinning round and round his erupting knob...making
him buck like a fish out of water.  For five full minutes, I teased and
rubbed and twisted his agonized prick tip...milking it ruthlessly, and
teasing out every last drop of semen in Melik's fat nuts.  When I finally
stopped, his chest was heaving and his head stopped snapping back and forth
to finally collapse in semi-consciousness.

I left him just in time to enter the other room and see Habib, strained
against his bonds and rocketing bolts of thick tangy spooge onto the table,
his toes curled tightly as the wicked milker kept working his fat prick
knob as incessantly as my fist had worked poor Melik. I sat and watched him
buck into oblivion...helplessly seeking to dislodge his big boy knob from
the uncompromising sucking that would make a grown man faint from the
sensation.

The pictures I sent both young men, less than a week after they found
themselves unbound, and naked in empty rooms of a downtown building, sent
the fear of their God through them.  The accompanying letter assured them
that without their full cooperation, copies of these pictures would be
posted on the internet in this city, and available back at home for their
families to see.  In addition, hard copies were ready to be sent to their
parents who might not ever use the internet.  Both young men were beaten,
and when they realized that I only expected them to cooperate with me for
six months...and then they would be freed from any obligations, they
reluctantly assented to my demands.

Tonight, Habib is slated to screw Melik until his younger friend cums
without his prick being touched.  It should not be too difficult, because I
have a bristle condom for Habib to slide over his curved scimitar as it
roots deeply up into Melik's soft rectum.  Instead, Habib will use his
finger with little finger vibrators on Melik's whorish tits, pinching and
twisting them as his fingers buzz, making the rigid nubs into mini-pricks
to be milked and masturbated in rhythm with the fucking.  A week ago, it
was Habib's turn...but it was a different approach.  I had Melik use a soft
bristled brush on his friend's turgid penis, (both are in cock restraints
until they meet with me), while an automatic small fucking machine slid a
ribbed and bump covered twisting four inch vibrating prod up his hole.  The
neat thing was that Habib's legs were over his head, and his cock was aimed
at a mouth funnel that would drain down his throat once his cock exploded a
week's worth of pent of gism into it.  With the patience of a prophet,
Melik gently tortured his friend's throbbing, leaking, smooth glans over
and over, and danced around the corona whenever he got to close to making
Habib cum.  Melik had learned that Habib would not spare him any agonizing
indignity when I made him work his younger friend, so when it was his turn,
he gladly returned the favor.  I can still see the brush working
relentlessly on Habib's circumcision scar, finally driving him to a
bucking, toe-curling, finger scrabbling cum, and lining his esophagus with
a thick layer of his own tangy baby juice...helping him to develop a taste
for something both boys would learn to enjoy before their time was through.
With almost clinical efficiency, Melik basted the glans with the bristles
as cum ejected from the wide piss lips, making sure Habib would near faint
from the tickling his knob received from the cruel, maddening bristles as
they scrubbed over the bloated fuck tip.

I am confident that I have done my part for homeland security, because it
is without a doubt unlikely that these two young men would ever engage in
any behavior that might land them in the clutches of a fiendish agent, like
myself.  But even more importantly, on those nights I spend with them,
having their turgid prongs at my disposal, able to tie them down and tickle
them from head to toe into howling blather, or to lay their trussed bodies
over my lap for a good spanking, finger fuck, and to finally have them
sitting on my lap gagged, bound and prick hard for a good round of bristle
glove teasing, I realize that life can be extremely good.  Don't you think?

Please write to me at Glaucon55@aol.com.  I look forward to your
suggestions and thoughts about the next Masturbation Chronicle.