Date: Mon, 25 Jun 2007 14:39:33 -0400 From: Cum Control Boi <cumcontrolboi@gmail.com> Subject: Revisiting Cum Denial 2 (T/T bd cc) ================================================================== Standard disclaimers apply... If you're under the age of legality in your location, or not supposed to read this for other legal reasons, you ought not read this -- legal consequences apply if someone finds out what you're doing. Additionally, if male-male homosexual acts are not to your tastes, then don't be reading this. =================================================================== "Revisiting Cum Denial, part 2 (Alex's Denial)" by cumcontrolboi > The second part of this story is based on feedback from Alex; > this is written as a separate variation on the same story theme. Prologue: Am I a naughty boy who wants to be dominated? You know I am. Am I a kinky little punk who can't get enough? Did you read the first part of this story of mine? Did it make you cum? Edging is my favorite. Is it yours as well? Read along, and edge... and try not to cum. -- I know your body intimately. I've studied it for countless hours on end, in gym class, especially. You always seem to catch me right when I'm looking at you. Then again, I look at you nearly every day. But you watch me, day after day. You study me as we pass in the halls. You know it when I'm looking at you; I'm not very good at covering it up. I usually think you're staring off into the distance, contemplating something, I know not what. I dream of you in those moments, as though you have all the solutions; that you know just the right things to do and when; that you are confident, in control, and in command. Not just of yourself, but of everything around you. I see you confidently staring off, contemplating your next task, and how to achieve your objective the best way that'll get you there with the most self-enjoyment and self- fulfillment. I admire you and try not to get caught looking over your body. You are so much that I am not, and that I could never be. You know, you've always had this thing about you; whenever I felt lost or needed some sort of inspiration, all I had to to was to look at you, and somehow I found that you as a role model for confidence made me feel that whatever I did, I could be confident in it. Like I said, we have gym together. You love to watch me through the forest of male flesh between us. I love to think you don't know that I'm looking at you through the sea of bodies. I timidly remove my clothing each time; I've never been proud of my body. You shuck off your clothes, and change right into your uniform. There's always a moment that you dawdle; I never figure it out, do I? You're always watching me; and I am always staring at the rest of your body... and then I catch sight of your eyes. Caught again. Something you always do, but you never say anything. Do you know how many fantasies run through my head at night when you catch my gaze like that, but never say anything, and just keep going with what you were doing? You must know my secret... somehow. If you know my secret... I would be afraid. You could do so much with just knowing my secrets... You were staring at me. You have some sort of power over me. I wish you were admiring me, and not staring at me like that. It scares me. You must have something to say... Your gaze was fierce. It startled me... I pull on my shirt quickly... and now I realize that have to walk past you to follow everyone else out. You're still staring at me like that. Your intense gaze holds a command over me. I try not to look into your eyes, because I am sure it will distract me; I don't know how, I'm too afraid to ask how. I know you will pounce on me, this time... I know that you are a fierce hunter and you have found your prey. I tuck my shirt into my tight and short pants. I can't keep stalling; you know I'm stalling. I put a few more things into my locker, and turn back towards you. I turn to approach you. You aren't going to make this easy. You're staring there, unblinking, as I try to maneuver around you as quickly as I can to get by you... You leave only a little room to squeeze by... I stop, and hope you will move. My heart beats loudly. My gaze stays low. I pray that you will move. Nothing happens. Forever and a moment pass. And then, you move. You grab me by the shoulders, and turn me aside and aback, aiming me to crash up against the wall of lockers back-first. It's more noise than pain that strikes me. And when it ends, you are there, pressing your body up into mine, holding me tightly up against the lockers. My face still bears the horrific look from the suddenness with which you grabbed me. Your body begins to slowly caress me; you are very slowly and rhythmically moving your hips into mine, grinding your hard cock into mine through our gym pants. I whimper out a small noise of protest, but it probably came out more as a sort of erotic masochist begging-for-more whimper. I find out very quickly that writhing will no escape your grasp either. Your grip upon my shoulders holds me tight. Your hands grips change to firmly hold my upper arms in against themselves. I turn my head, the only way to avert your gaze. I know you can feel my hard cock within my trousers; and I can feel your hardness against mine. I feel humiliated, because you know my secret; that I am hard for you. I think nothing of you being hard -- it comes with the territory of being the stud you are. You lean in, and your lips press up against my warm neck. Like a vampire's kiss, your lips feel the pulse of my blood against them. For a moment, you let up, and you whisper, "At ease. Stay." I obey you. I stay where I stand, and I will not disobey you. I feel strangely comfortable with you here. You let my arms go, and you grab the collar of my shirt, and pull me in to kiss you. I gasp into the kiss as your other hand deftly reaches in and grasps into my shorts for my very hard cock. You trace your hand around it and give it a firm grasp. I continue kissing you, however, and it is not only our lips that are touching, but our tongues are dueling; I am allowing you to conquer me, and feel that I am putting up a fight on my last terrain, but I know you will win against me on this front as well. You pull your lips away, and I lean forward to chase after them. You press me back into the locker, your weight pushing my chest back, your face next to my ear, your hands reaching down upon my cock. You slowly, tenderly, painstakingly take a couple of very ginger strokes, lightly caressing my balls... "You fucking punk; you're loving this." My body shivers with ecstasy from your divine touch. You can feel my body shaking through your single touch upon it. You continue stroking up and down, for what seems like forever... and I begin to breathe harder and harder. "Keep up with the moaning, you horny fuck." You change your grip slightly, and change your speed to an even and fast pace. I begin to realize that you're working me over intentionally. You want me to get to cumming. I know if I let you, you're going to have more control over me. Everything that you haven't already gotten, you'll get from me. I can only resist this for so long. Every time you encourage me or react to me based on my moaning, I get more and more humiliated. Even if it's just "yeah", or "you like that", or anything else you tell me... soon, you'll be able to convince me of anything with those words... Your grip gets tighter, and begins stroking me harder; I can feel my balls being jostled up and down. I can't resist that. My entire cock and balls are now engaged in your efforts to make me cum. I begin to breathe deeper and moan lightly. "Yeah, you're already dripping, you little slut." You change your pace to something quicker, with a different grip, and you've got to feel my body shuddering. I have my hands pressed up against the lockers. My abs are getting a workout, trying to hold the energy that's going to make me lose all reasoning... and you're winning the battle again... My head turns away, as I realize you're going to make me cum, and I can't do much about it. I don't want to tell you to stop; why would I? I don't know what's in store for me. I know you're beginning to humiliate me. My cheeks are a deep red by now, I'm sure. "You know you're my little fucktoy, don't you?" You stroke faster. I am getting too close. I can't keep holding back. I'm breathing heavier now. You can tell that I'm on the edge. Ever so slightly, I am rocking my hips against your stroking. You grab my chin suddenly, and turn my head to face you. "Don't you!?", you ask, louder. I close my eyes, trying not to look at your fierce gaze; I whimper lightly from the edging you've been doing. "You're my little fucktoy!", you yell into me, this time. Startled, my eyes fly open, only to meet your gaze. Your hand continues working my cock over, expertly, keeping me right on the edge. "Answer me." Only above a whisper, your voice quietly asks me. I go to speak, but I let out a half-sigh, half-moan... And your hand stops working me over. I frown, furrow my eyebrows, and make a whimpering sound. My hips reach back towards your hand only to find empty air. "You're my little fucktoy, cumslut, boytoy, whore, whatever I want you to be. You understand?" I try not to answer. My hands wander for a moment, but you grab them hard, and force me back into the locker. My head is clouding over. My lust is winning. My desire to submit to your merciless desires for me, whatever hellish tortures you could devise, few will ever top this moment. Your hips press against my bare cock, grinding into it. "Say it!" You nearly scream, and I cower; I hope nobody is able to hear that. I am fearful to reply, fearful that anyone, especially you, hears me obey. "Y... y... yes..." Barely heard... You take me by the collar, and guide me into the showers. You strip off your clothing quickly. I am still in shock and have nothing I can do except watch and obey whatever you tell me to do. I am beyond thinking at this point. This is so surreal; I don't know if I could believe this is happening for real. I'm staring. Your cock is rock hard... it bobs in the free air. You step up to me, and yank my shorts down completely. You roughly pull my shirt over my head and off. I try to shield my nakedness but not to very much avail. You grasp each of my wrists and guide me back, gazing deeply into my eyes the whole time, away from my shorts, down and away, towards the cold metal shower bench. My back arches as it contacts the chill metal. My eyes close, and in a moment, you are standing close up to me. You are slightly bent, with your hand reaching towards my cock. You grip it as I meet your gaze, and some moan comes from within me that I didn't know that I had. You smile and move back. You devilishly grin as you pull the drawstrings from my shorts and then from your shorts... and you take my right hand and tie it to the pole on my right, and then the left hand, to a pole on my right. My hands are in a mock surrender position, and my legs are spread wide for you to approach me. You would just force them open if I tried to squeeze them in, anyways. You gaze deeply at me again, and grip my cock with both of your hands. Your hands slowly manipulate, grope, explore, and stroke my hard, hot shaft... You keep it up, and soon I am once more on the edge of cumming... it feels so good... You continue for I don't know how long... it seems like forever... I can't tell any more. I just start moaning, first from heavy breathing into moaning lightly, into moaning deeply, and finally moaning loudly with groaning and whimpering... You are expertly keeping me right on the edge... one stroke away from cumming... I can't help it... for once... my hips buck forward, trying to get the last stroke to send me over... And you manage to simply keep your pace, as though I hadn't even tried at all... Your gaze meets mine with a fire that I can no longer explain. I know you are in control... "If you can't hold your cum, I swear..." A sweat breaks out on me... My eyes gather a film of lust over them with the mere prospect of the thought of cumming... How close you have me, how close you are holding me, how close I am to cumming, and now... "...if you fucking let loose your boy-cum on me, I swear..." "...I will leave you tied here, naked, for everyone to see..." You don't let up. You stroke harder... and faster... It takes all of my mental forces not to cum. This is what you've been working for. Now I have no chance to hold back against you. You've lured me into trying to cum, and now that I'm so close, you aren't going to let this opportunity go away without fucking with me. I bite my lower lip lightly, trying not to lose my load over the thought of being stuck here, naked, bound... There's fuck-all I can do about these images you keep giving me. I can't escape your web. It's all I can do not to lose my focus. You stroke faster. I moan harder, trying not to cum... "Look at you, moaning like the little fag you are." You spit on my cock, lubing it up. I toss my head from side to side, trying not to fight you physically or make trouble for you... I'm hoping that you're going to let up... Not punish me... I can't form words... My body is uttering these sounds, like letters at the beginning of words, but all of it is just begging noises... Begging you to let me cum. Begging you to do anything, anything but make me shoot my load. I would do anything for you. Just don't make me shoot my load. But what you want... is for me to shoot my load. I already would do anything for you. And you want for me to shoot my load... We both know I already will do whatever you want... You want me there at the edge... You can tell I'm right at the very razor edge... The slightest touch of the wrong kind will send me over... You can tell. You slow down... Torturously slow... Laboriously slow... Painstakingly slow... And it still makes me fucking ready to blow my wad... And from my body erupts this unearthly deep moan resonating through my body from the deepest core of my frustration and desires to cum. My hips buck once, and your hands are gone. I deeply let out another moan, which breaks into a whimpering sob... My body begins convulsing as it begins to erupt in tears... Quivering with a nervous tension. Nerves ablaze, my mind on fire from the sensory overload and loss... There is no coherent speech coming from me, but I'm still asking you for anything, anything you want to do to me... let me cum... "From now on, you call me Master." I can only recognize the word "Master" out of that sentence. It's the only thing I can understand. You are my Master. I know you are. I look up at you, with tears streaking from my face. "I know what you desire. I see your stories. You don't realize that I read them, do you? You wouldn't expect anyone to know this side of you. But I do." You stroke your still hard cock. So very hard. So very close. I can tell it wants to cum. I can manage no more than a blank stare in awe and fascination. I am entranced by your cock. My body hangs nearly limply. Your can see my broken body, and by extension, my broken will. You move closer, and you let your cock brush against my slightly- parted lips. That's all you need to get sent over the edge. Your cum sprays into my mouth. What I can get of it, I do. You spray it over my lips and over my chin. Another spurt gets me over the arch of my eye and begins to drip slowly down my cheek. With a grunt, you pump the last drop onto my face... The warmth of your cum quickly fading... As though I have been graced by it. You gather up our clothing, but you don't let me go. You want someone else to find me, with my hard cock waiting for release... my face streaked with tears and dried cum... Tied to two poles in the boys locker room. In my locker, you leave a note. It just has your phone number and "Call Me" on the next line and "Master" on the last. There is an artistically rough heart drawn alongside the last line. I hear the door to the locker room slam shut. Tears stain my face. I want more. =========== Write some feedback. It's not hard. Type in "cumcontrolboi@gmail.com" and give it a punchy subject line, or at least a subject telling me what story it is that you're commenting on. Not that hard, now, is it? 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