Date: Tue, 27 Aug 2002 15:51:45 +0000
From: Moore
Subject: Southern Submissive - Part 5

SOUTHERN SUBMISSIVE (AUTHORITARIAN, HUMIL: T/T, M/T)
BY:  MOORE

Part 5

Chapter IX

Never before, rarely since, have I been so dominated, so controlled
by a cock.  Granted, my earlier experience was limited to Tim and
the nine other guys on the crew.  Tim sometimes let me take a little
time to enjoy his cock, but giving head to the crew was assembly
line cock sucking...like working in a busy bathroom glory hole or
cheap whore house. No time for crotch sniffing or ball licking. No
time to coax a little precum to rub on my lips. These were men in
a hurry to ram their hard dicks deep into my mouth and throat, to
bust a nut and unload wads of spunk into my faggot mouth.

The second best cock I ever serviced on a regular basis belonged to
a man I met, and lived with for a time, while working in the film
industry. He was an actor, a very big star who appeared in mostly
straight porn, and I was a production assistant on several of his
movies. But he was a man, a professional with years of experience.
Oliver was a boy, barely into his teens. How much experience could
such a young boy have had. For all I'll knew, I was the first fag,
the first mouth, the first cocksucker to be used by his dick.

I had Oliver's cock, my master's cock, in my mouth, but just the
smooth spongy head resting on my tongue. I waited impatiently,
eager for a taste of precum and hoping that he had a big load of
sperm for me to suck out of his balls. I expected that soon he
would get hard and start pumping and thrusting his prick wildly
in and out of my mouth, like Tim and all the guys did when I gave
them head.

Oliver was holding me back on a short leash. I couldn't move my
head forward to get more of his dick into my cock starved mouth
and, to my amazement, he wasn't getting an erection. He seemed
content to stand over me, drink in hand like at a cocktail party,
with the head of his cock on my tongue. It was sort of like a
party...a party in my mouth. The guest of honor was present, but
he didn't want to cum.

To help matters along, I moved my tongue around the head of his
dick and started to suck. I reached around to put my hands on
Oliver's smooth ass to pull him closer, get more of my master's
dick in my sucking slave boy mouth. A sharp yank on my leash and
Oliver's "NO!" made me freeze and look up.  His dick slipped out
of my mouth.

"No hands," he said.  "No hands and keep still. I'll tell when to
suck, slave."

Not fag or faggot or boy or cocksucker, just slave. And the way he
said it, dragging the word out and the tone in his voice, made me
shudder.  Reality hit me like a slap in the face. Slave, like he
owned me, owned IT. I wasn't a Me or an I anymore, certainly not a
boy, not an animal, not even a faggot cocksucker. I was less than
that. Oliver had reduced me to an IT, a THING, a common possession.
A THING to use; like a bicycle or a car, a THING to wear; like a
shirt or a pair of socks. The way he said slave made it clear.
Oliver was my master.  He owned me alright, and he would use me as
a THING, an IT, an inanimate object, without feelings or emotions
to be considered.

I kept still as once again Oliver slid just the head of his cock
between my lips and into my mouth. I felt like he was using my
mouth, putting me on, like a well worn jock strap to support his
hanging dick. Oliver arranged himself comfortably in my mouth and
on my tongue, put his hands on his hips, and, and, and....started
to piss. From jock strap to toilet bowl, from one thing to another
thing, in an instant, without warning or care if I wanted my mouth
to serve as his toilet and take his piss. Didn't matter what I
wanted or didn't want. Oliver owned it, the thing called mouth, and
he could use it any way he wanted.

Tim and the crew had pissed in my mouth, mostly recycled beer, so
the experience wasn't new.  Oliver's piss was different, not as
bitter tasting, almost sweet. I drank it all, swallowed every drop
of his piss.  When his flow stopped I had a moment to consider my
relationship with Oliver; while his dick rested in my mouth.

Fag or slave, cocksucker or doormat, human or animal. Maybe I
should end it right now.  Spit out his cock, get up off my knees,
take off the dog collar around my neck and chase Oliver away.  I
could if I wanted to. I was Jefferson Davis Winslow and my father
owned this place.  What good is it anyway, having a cock in your
mouth and not be allowed to suck on it or even move your tongue
around the head. I couldn't suck, jerk off even, without permission.
Was he going to tell me when to eat and shit, sleep and wake up too?
My mind was made up....., almost.

I could find other cocks to suck, other boys who'd like a blow job.
There were lots of boys in gym class with nice bodies, who maybe
wouldn't blab it all over school that I was a faggot cocksucker.
I wasn't ready for that. Victor Grosscup. He already knew I was
kind of strange from when he caught me smelling dirty jock straps
in the locker room and he never told. I could talk to him on Monday,
when he's alone in the photo lab.

Kneeling naked on the patio with his piss in my belly, my leash in
his hand and his dick in my mouth, I almost had myself convinced
that I didn't need Oliver. I didn't need to be his personal slave
boy and, and, and......, and then he got hard.

The crazy thoughts filling up my mind were chased away, replaced,
by the wonderful cock filling up my mouth. I closed my eyes as
Oliver's thickening dick slid between my stretched lips and across
my flattened tongue. I was afraid to suck or swallow or bob my head
without his permission and I kept my hands clasped behind my back
so as not to touch him.  Oliver didn't thrust or push. The only
movement was the prow of his dick, like a ship, slowly making its
way through the saliva filled harbor of my mouth toward a previously
undiscovered berth.

			    ***

On a rainy morning two years earlier, with work halted on the
cabana, Tim and the crew had passed the time by experimenting in my
mouth to see how much dick, how many inches I could take before
gagging.  I helped each guy get hard then measured and marked his
erection at half inch intervals with a red marker. Tim set me up
in the cabana, in front of a newly installed mirror wall so I could
watch the experiment, watch my face get fucked. The guys had great
fun taking turns in my mouth to see how much dick I could take
before choking. It wasn't scientific, but my mouth averaged just
over five inches. I maxed out at six inches on the thinnest cock and
less than four inches on the fattest.

All the guys wanted blow jobs right after. I was willing, more than
willing, but my throat was sore and it hurt when I sucked. In a rare
display of kindness to me, his slave, Tim told the crew to jerk off
instead and, at my suggestion, aim their cum shots into my open
mouth. I watched as Tim took the red marker and a black one too,
and drew a target on my face with my mouth for the bulls eye. With
pen in hand he couldn't resist the urge to mark his property and,
to much laughter, he carefully wrote FAG on my forehead.

I got drenched with sperm as their cum shots mostly missed the bulls
eye and landed on my face and in my hair.  Tim wouldn't allow me to
wash, said I looked like a fine fag with cum my face, so I spent the
whole day with dried cum all over my face.  I cleaned up ok later,
after Tim and the crew left, before my daddy came home.  Soap and
water easily washed away all the cum.  I had to scrub to get rid of
the marker. Fortunately it was only water resistant and not
waterproof or I would have had FAG written on my forehead for a
long time. I wasn't always to be so lucky.

			    ***

Oliver's dick continued to explore the depths of my mouth. My lips
were still positioned around the shaft, two, maybe three inches
from his pubic hair and the only thing moving was his cock.  When
the head reached the top of my throat I sputtered and gagged. Oliver
laughed. His cock pulsed and twitched, and something popped inside
my over stuffed cock filled mouth. It sounded like a water balloon
bursting and, and suddenly he was in my throat. I could feel the
head of his cock expand and contract and rub against the sides of
my throat, pushed along deeper into the narrow passage by the still
growing shaft.  I had no way of knowing how much cock was already
in me, but I knew there was more to go. Through teary eyes I could
still see a lot of my master's black shaft, all shiny with my spit,
and I wanted it all.

When Oliver took hold of my ears and pulled my head in, I had it
all.  Every inch of my master's cock was planted in my slave boy
mouth. My nose tickled his belly and his pubic hair tickled my
lips. I could barely breath. My neck bulged where the head of his
cock bulged, deep down inside my throat.  My eyes bulged too, in
fear, when I realized I couldn't back off his dick. I was stuck,
impaled, spitted on my master's cock which was firmly rooted in
my throat.

Wild and crazy thoughts raced through my oxygen depleted brain.
I was going to spend the rest of my life with a cock permanently
fixed in my mouth, a pair of black balls resting on my chin. My
daddy would throw me out of the house, ashamed to have a son who
was a cocksucker, ashamed to have a son who allowed a black boy
to use him this way. I'd be a freak like the bearded lady or the
sword swallower at the circus.  Victor would take my picture for
the high school year book and I'd be wearing a pair of balls
instead of a tie.

My head started to shake. Oliver was moving his hips back and forth,
thrusting, and I came. At least I think I came. It was unlike any
cum that I'd ever had before. It started from deep inside me, not
from my cock and balls, but from the stimulation of Oliver's cock
wedged in my throat.  My orgasm was so intense, so pleasurable, so
long lasting that my fear of being stuck on Oliver's dick changed
to the fear that he would take it out.  I wanted to swallow his
cock, balls too if I could manage it. I wanted to keep Oliver, keep
my master, inside me forever.

Oliver began to fuck my face. Using my ears like handles, he held
my head steady as he slowly pulled his dick out of my throat, I was
free, and slowly pushed it back in. In and out of my throat with an
easy fucking motion and then I was empty.  Oliver's dick popped out
of my mouth and for the first time I saw the full size of my
master's erection. I lunged forward, eager to refill my mouth and
throat, with the biggest cock I had ever seen, but Oliver yanked on
my leash, holding me back.  All I could do was watch, with my mouth
open and my tongue hanging out, as he pulsed and flared the enormous
mushroom head.

Precum bubbled freely from the piss slit and hung down to the patio
in long strings. Oliver yanked my leash to get my attention, pointed
to a small pool of the shiny stuff at his feet and told me to lick
it up.  Two swipes of my tongue on the dirty flagstone patio and
the pool of his sweet tasting body fluid was almost gone.  Before I
could lap up the last of it, another yank on my leash and another
command to roll over sent me to my back, between my master's legs,
looking up at my master's balls.  Precum was still bubbling and
dripping, onto my face now and into my mouth and I came.

The pure taste of Oliver's silky juice dripping into my mouth made
me shudder and spurt watery cum on to my belly. I was still cumming,
still enjoying my orgasm when Oliver yanked on my leash, hard. A not
so gentle reminder that I was a slave and he owned me. A naked slave
boy, his personal slave, I existed only to please my master and not
to enjoy myself.  Scrambling to my hands and knees, I lowered my head
to the ground and kissed my master's feet to show my servitude. I
would have kissed a horses ass for another taste of his dick.

"Good boy," he said.  "You southern white boys train well, make good
slaves. Must be in the genes.  All those years of owning slaves, you
know how to take care of a master.  Fags up north train good too and
they make good cocksuckers. I wonder if southern fags know how to
suck as good as northern fags. How about it, slave boy?  You know
how to suck?"

I wanted to shout out, "yes I know how to suck," but I didn't want
to seem over eager.  "Yes master," I said softly and slipped his big
toe into my mouth.

Oliver shook his head and said, "Maybe, but black dick is different,
bigger than the white dicks you're used to.  We piss more and cum
more too."

He had to be kidding. I'd taken every inch of his cock in my mouth,
in my throat, and swallowed every drop of his piss.  No way couldn't
I suck as good, better even, than a yankee white boy and take all my
master's cum in my mouth. Cum in my mouth, Oliver's cum in my mouth.
Just the thought of it made me shiver.  I kept silent though, and
sucked harder on his toe.

"It's getting late and I'm hungry," Oliver said suddenly.

It was late, the sun was going down.  We'd been out here for hours
and I was hungry too, but not for food.  I was hungry to suck my
master's cock, starved for a mouthful of his salty cream.

"Go fetch my shorts, slave boy. Then we'll go in and order a pizza.
You do have pizza delivery in this hick town?"

"Yes master," I said as I crawled away to retrieve his shorts.

			    ***

We walked to my big house under a darkening sky, master in front,
holding my leash, naked slave boy trailing a few steps behind.
Lottie, our old black housekeeper, was in the kitchen. She's seen
me naked hundreds of times so she didn't bat an eye when we came in
and I introduced her to Oliver.  He took her aside and the two of
them talked privately for a moment. Oliver pointed at me, at my
erection and the dog collar around my neck. I heard him ask her
flat out if she knew I was queer and that I liked boys more than
girls. Lottie nodded her head knowingly, smiled at me, giggled
like a school girl...., and then she was gone.

Oliver sat at the table, looking around the well appointed kitchen.
"Bring me a coke, use a tray, and call the pizza place. I'm hungry."

I poured his drink over ice into a crystal goblet and presented it
to my master on a silver tray I'd seen the servants use at cocktail
parties.  He didn't take it right away.  Instead, he took the end
of my leash, which was hanging down my back and dragging on the
floor, and brought it up tight between my ass cheeks. I gasped in
pain, and tried to hide the pleasure, when he wrapped the end of
the leash around my cock and balls.

Pleased with his work, Oliver took his drink and shooed me away to
order the pizza.  My trussed dick throbbed with each step and the
leash worked its way deeper into the crack of my ass as I backed
away from Oliver. I couldn't help it. My legs began to shake. My
breath grew ragged. The pressure in my ass, around my balls.....,
Oliver's bare black chest and pink nipples. My eyes shut tight.
My toes curled on the stone floor. Sweat broke out on my forehead.
My body seized up, I could feel an explosive orgasm building and...
Oliver poured icy cold coke onto my inflamed cock.

I dropped the tray and fell to my knees in agony as the cold shock
killed my orgasm, trapping sperm in my tied up balls.  I lost my
erection, but my dick was fat and oozing cum onto the silver tray.

"Stupid slave," Oliver said standing over me.  "You'll cum when I
tell you to cum, not before. Clean up your mess and order the
pizza, slave boy. I'm hungry."

I did as ordered...., my cum was thick, chunky, very salty tasting,
and called the pizza place. There was one message on the machine so
I hit the play button after telling Oliver that the pizza would
take an hour. The message was from my daddy.

   "Hi Jeff its me, daddy. I guess you're out. Listen,
    there's been a change in plans. Met an old college
    pal, fraternity brother, Bruce Barclay.  You remember
    Mr. Barclay?  He's in town a few days so I'm staying
    til Monday, talk about old times......"

I remembered Mr. Barclay alright. I must have been like ten or eleven
cause it was soon after my California cousins came to visit. After I
had my first taste of cum.

    "..... have a couple of dinners...."

Yeah, I remembered Mr. Barclay. You don't forget your first blow
job. He stayed at the house one night, for a college reunion, and
he came out of the bathroom into my room, by mistake he said, but
he didn't leave, not even when he saw I was naked. He closed the
door, sat next to me on my bed and put his arm around my shoulder.

    "..... and a few laughs. Hold it a sec Bruce, I'm on the
phone. Call me at the hotel when you get this message

    Jeff, the number is on my desk.  I want to hear....."

He was wearing the tiniest underwear, like a jock strap, but made
out of shiny red material.  He put his hand in my lap and began to
tickle my little balls and stroke my little hardon. When he got on
his knees and took me in his mouth I started to shake all over. It
felt so good.

    "..... all about your day and your plans for the
    weekend. You can use the pick-up if you want to show
    Oliver the town.  The tank is almost empty so stop
    at ....."

Bruce's hands were on my thighs and his head was bobbing up and down
on my cock like crazy. He sucked me until I came. It was the best
orgasm of my life.  When Bruce got up from his knees the front of
his underwear was all wet and creamy stuff was dripping out.

    "...... the filling station and.....I'll be right there
    Bruce, give 'em another drink...."

The answering machine was silent for a moment, I thought my daddy
had hung up. Then I could hear his voice in the background.

    "No, it doesn't matter to me Bruce. Do the blond one
    first if that's what you want.  The other one looks
    bigger to me anyway.  We got all weekend, I left my
    son a message...., shit, the phone.  Sorry Jeff, got
    called away. We'll talk later.  You be a good boy while
    I'm away and you take care of Oliver too. Bye."

"A message from my daddy," I said to Oliver who had a big grin on
his face.

"Yeah, I heard.  Play it again."

"What?"

"Don't you hear good boy?  I said play it again."

I rewound the tape and played it again.  Oliver began to laugh so
hard that tears came to his eyes.  He had me play the first part
over and over. 'Met an old college pal, fraternity brother, Bruce
Barclay.'

Oliver finally stopped laughing and said, "Got time for a bath
before the pizza comes.  Lets go slave boy."

			    ***

I led the way upstairs to my room.  Oliver looked around at all my
stuff: Color TV, stereo, posters of my favorite male rock stars. He
opened my closet, poked around in my dresser, and found all of my
secret treasures. The dog eared copy of Boys of Bangkok and a small
stash of muscle magazines. The envelope containing pubic hairs I'd
painstakingly collected from the urinals at school. A smelly old
jock strap, stained and stiff with dried cum, that I'd taken from
the trash can at the club and a couple of used condoms.

"You're quite the fag, slave boy, quite the fag. I bet you're real
popular at school, in the boys bathroom, taking care of your white
friends.  Well, you're my faggot now, Jefferson Davis Winslow, my
slave boy. Get my bath going."

Oliver would've lost that bet. None of the boys at school knew I was
gay. Before today, I hadn't tasted a cock in two years.  The only
cum I'd tasted was my own. That's what the condoms were for. I got
them at the creek last year.

Chapter X

The creek is a popular hang out place for teenage boys. It's not
segregated, anybody can go there, but white boys usually stay one
side and black boys stay on the other. Old traditions are slow to
die in this Mississippi town and people tend to know their proper
place in life. My friends and I go to the creek often to swim, smoke
cigarettes, drink beer when we can get it and just pass the time.
I used to go, but not for the last two years though, not since Tim,
not since I became a cocksucker at age 13. I stopped going to the
creek in the summer because it's too tempting.

The creek is secluded and a lot of boys swim naked. I get a hardon
just thinking about naked boys. Pictures of men posing nearly naked
in my muscle magazines make my juices flow. I'm afraid of what I'd
do at the creek. I don't trust myself not to stare and then crawl
between a friend's legs and beg to suck his dick. And once I start
I know I won't be able to stop.  I just know I'll strip naked and
stay on my knees until I've sucked off everyone.

Then what. After the cocksucking frenzy is over and my friends
realize what they've done. What I've done. I know what will happen.
My friends will stand around silent at first, afraid to look at me,
feeling guilty, afraid to look at each other. Then somebody will
laugh because the sun is still shining, the birds are still singing
and god hasn't unleashed a bolt of lightning, struck everyone dead
for getting a blow job.  The nervous tension will break and all my
friends will laugh and start talking about me.

'I didn't know Jeff was queer, a fairy boy, a homosexual. Did y'all
know he was queer?

Not queer you idiot, gay. Queer is from the fifties. Jeff is gay.

Queer, fairy, gay, whatever. He sure can suck dick.

You kin say that again.

He sure can suck dick.

That's because Jeff's a fag. Girls and fags suck dick. Take a look,
y'all can see Jeff's not a girl, soooo, he must be a fag. Ain't that
right Jeff?'

All heads will turn to look at me, naked, on my knees, cum all over
my face and dripping out of my mouth. They'll see my dick, hard and
leaking, and I'll answer the question. I'll admit I'm a fag because
I have no choice... and because it's true. Immediately they'll feel
better, secure in their maleness. If I'm a fag then what happened
is kind of ok, because everybody knows, it's common knowledge at
school, girls and fags suck dick. And once I admit it the tone will
change, get a bit nasty, as every boy, all my friends, will band
together to distance themselves from the fag.

'See, he admits it. I told you guys, Jeff is a fag.

Yeah, a fag. A real live faggot. A faggot cocksucker.

Yeah, a faggot cocksucker.  Jeff the fag sucks big dick. Sucks our
dicks and lets us cum in his mouth. Lookit, the dick licker's got
cum all over his face. How low can you get, taking another guy's
cock and slimy sperm in your mouth. And swallowin' the stuff. Don't
forget he swallowed our spunk. Yuk, he's got millions and millions
of sperm swimin' around in his belly. How can Jeff do that, suck a
guys dick and eat a guys cum? That's disgusting.

Nah, not to Jeff, he likes it I tell ya. Jeff likes a big prick in
his mouth and when guys cum in his mouth, all fags like it. Right,
Jeff?  You like suckin' dick and you like it when guys empty their
balls, spunk in your mouth and swallowin' the cum too?'

I'll shake my head, but that won't be enough to satisfy them.  My
friends'll want me to say it out loud. They'll keep pressing until
the words that seal my fate and absolve them of the last of their
guilt come pouring out of my mouth.

"Yes I like it," I'll cry out. "I like it a lot. I'm queer, a faggot
cocksucker and I like being on my knees, naked, with a big hard dick
in my cocksucker mouth. I like it when guys shoot off in my mouth,
cum in my mouth, feed me their sperm. I like the taste of cum, hot
and creamy in my mouth, and swallowing cum into my belly."  That's
what I'll say because that's what they'll want to hear and because,
because.... it's the truth."

'See, guys, we did him a favor letting him blow us and cumming in
his mouth.  You know what?  Since Jeff is our friend we should do
him another favor.  Whatdya say guys, whose up for doin' Jeff
another favor?'

The second round of blow jobs will be different.  Like I said, old
traditions are slow to die and people tend to know their proper
place in life. Mine happens to be on my knees with a cock in my
mouth. Now that my proper place has been clearly established my
friends will relax and enjoy my cocksucking talents.

There'll be lots of talking and laughing and arguing about who gets
to use the cocksucker next.  Guys'll be pushing their cocks into my
mouth, thrusting, fucking my face. I'll be surrounded by hard cocks.
Cocks in my mouth, in my hands, rubbing on my face.  Guys'll be
jerking off and cumming, spurting hot cum all over me, while waiting
for a turn in my cocksucker mouth...., I'll be loving it.

I'll lose track of how many cocks I've sucked, how many loads of
sperm I've swallowed, how many times my own dick shoots off.
Eventually the guys will be exhausted, spent, and it'll be time to
hurry home for supper.  We'll make plans to meet again tomorrow,
rain or shine, and I know I'll be there. Everybody, all my friends,
will agree to keep this a secret.  Oh, they'll promise not to tell,
but I know, as sure as I know I'm a fag cocksucker, there'll be a
few new faces, a few new cocks looking for a blow job at the creek
tomorrow...., and the day after too. There'll be a few new cocks at
the creek each and every day until school starts.

			    ***

There will be a lot of whispering, head turning and pointing on the
first day of school as boys who have been away for the summer will
be let in on the secret. Before the bell rings for first period,
every boy, and a few girls, in junior high school will know that
Jeff Winslow is gay, a fag, a cocksucker.

I know that I won't get to eat lunch anymore because every day one
of my friends will take my hand and walk me out of the cafeteria.
The whole place will know where I'm going and what I'm going to do.
Boys, a few girls too, will be laughing at me.  My friend will lead
me to the boy's bathroom where more of my friends will be waiting.
I'll be stripped naked, seated on the toilet in a stall and I'll be
sucking cock and eating sperm for the entire lunch hour.  Guys'll be
lined up to use my faggot mouth. I'll be put on my knees to suck a
few more cocks in the locker room when we change for gym and I'll
suck a few more wet dicks in the shower after class.

During recess one of my athlete friends will tell me the good news.
I'll be calling home to tell Lottie that I've been named co-manager
for all the sports teams which means I'll be staying after school
every day and I'll be taking the late bus home.  My work as co-
manager will be performed naked of course and from my knees. In
season, I'll be servicing the track, football and basketball teams.
Even the nerds who play chess will form a team and name me as their
manager. You'll easily recognize me in the team photos. Not the
ones printed in the yearbook, but the private ones taken with each
player.  I'll be the naked guy on his knees with a hard dick stuck
up against his belly and a hard dick stuck in his mouth.

In a switch, I'll be sitting in the back of the school bus, where
there's more room, so I can give all my friends head to and from
school. My good buddies'll make a deal with the bus driver. His
silence in exchange for a daily blow job. I'll suck him off alright,
my first black cock, but he won't be quiet about it.  He'll tell
the other drivers about the cocksucking kid on his bus and before
long I'll be sucking all the black bus drivers.

The word will spread to the high school and I'll be going out
weekends with older guys. Horny guys with girlfriends, nice girls,
who won't put out.  I'll be sucking high school dick in the back
seat of cars and in old pickup trucks. I'll be sucking dick at
parties, out in the open, guys and a few fast girls, drunk on beer,
cheering me on. Ten, twenty, thirty cocks will party all night in
my mouth!

My school work will suffer and I'll start high school not knowing
much math, history and science...except the science of cocksucking.
I won't have time to go to classes, but it won't matter.  I'll
graduate high school with straight A's, which I'll earn from my
knees giving head to all my teachers. I'll go to college, but flunk
out after one semester because I can't do the work and because I
have women professors.

Daddy will be angry, disappointed, but he'll use his business
contacts to get me a middle management job in a large Memphis
based company. I'll promise myself to work hard, change my ways,
but it won't happen. Within a month I'll be working hard alright,
from my knees, in the middle of my supervisor's office floor and
in the middle stall of the office men's room.  The only change
is now I'm sucking management cock.

I'll get fired when I'm caught in the middle of the loading dock,
in the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of a big circle of
workmen.  The only thing being loaded is me, my mouth that is.
Loaded with cock and special deliveries of cum.  So much for my
middle management job.

I'm not qualified to do much, except give great head, so I'll be
forced to take a string of menial jobs to support myself.  The job
at the supermarket lasts a week, until I get caught checking out
cute guys and bagging their dicks in the parking lot.  Seven-Eleven
doesn't stand for the minimum and maximum number of late night blow
jobs per hour. The store manager will show me the door, after he
shows me his cock for a quickie.  I won't get fired from the gas
station, even though I'm pumping trucker dick and filling up my fuel
tank with semen while I'm pumping diesel into his fuel tank, because
I'll quit and leave town with two long-haul truckers.

Life on the open road, driving cross-country, won't be as much fun
as I thought when I agreed to go with them. I won't get to see any
purple mountains and waves of grain, rather, purple cock heads and
waves of course pubic hair, because they'll keep me locked up in
the sleeper. One trucker will be up front, driving the big rig,
steering the forty footer into the wide open space of America. The
other trucker will be in back with me, driving his big rig, steering
his ten incher into the wide open space of my mouth and throat, and
into the narrow space of my ass.

Yeah, I'll get fucked. I know it will happen. On the open highway,
driving along the great divide, one of my trucker buddies will
divide my ass cheeks and drive his dick into my newly opened
chocolate highway. Every five hours or so they'll switch off and
I'll have a fresh, but sweaty cock pissing in my mouth and exploring
the highways and byways of my body. Most nights I'll sleep with a
cock in my mouth or in my ass.

Once a week or so we'll stop at a trucker motel. I won't even
bother to put on what little clothes I own before I climb out of
the cab. The sun will feel good on my naked body and it'll feel
good to stretch my legs after being cramped up in the sleeper.
Trucker motels will be more like college dorms, small rooms and
one large bathroom. I'll wash away the accumulation of dried cum
and piss in the communal shower room and bend over to be fucked by
my two truckers buddies, and by any other trucker who happens by
and feels like fucking me too.

After dinner in the cafeteria the guys'll mingle outside in the
parking lot to drink beer, gab and show off their rigs and other
toys. There'll be other boys like me, young and docile, standing
beside some of the truckers. Friendly arguments will break out
about sports, travel routes, who makes the best rig, Kenilworth
or Peterbuilt, money. As the evening wears on and the beer takes
effect the talk will invariably turn to sex.  Sex at home with
their wives and girlfriends and sex on the road with their boytoys.

Yup, boytoys, that's what we're called by big, burly, macho long-
haul truckers.  Boys like me, fags really, who travel around the
country servicing men who consider themselves to be straight.
Every trucker would like to own one of us, it's a status symbol,
but only when he's on the road.

I'll learn not to blush when my trucker buddies show me off and
boast about my cocksucking abilities and what a great fuck my tight
asshole provides. There'll be nods of agreement from the men who
fucked me in the shower earlier.  I'll get used to being stripped
naked for inspection by eager lusty eyes and calloused hands, and
waiting politely while several other truckers proudly show of their
own boytoys.

We'll be herded together, me and the other boytoys, an old mattress
or two will magically appear, and we'll put on a show for the crowd.
I'll be hugging and kissing other naked boys, sucking and getting
sucked, fucking and getting fucked, for the enjoyment of an audience.
When I'm totally spent, sweaty and covered with cum, my trucker
buddies will haul me off to our room and lay me out on the bed.

Trucker motel rooms will have hooks and pulleys so that my legs and
knees can be fixed in position, spread really wide, my hands can be
tied up out of the way and my head can be secured hanging over the
edge of the mattress. I'll learn not to close my eyes in fear, but
to relax and even look forward to it, as a long line of naked men
forms up to wait for a turn at my nicely exposed asshole and mouth.

I'll learn to appreciate the earlier foreplay with the other boytoys,
which opened and lubricated my fuckholes with cum, in preparation
for the onslaught to follow. The first man to mount me and sink his
cock into my upturned ass is first to use my mouth too. Trucker's
rules I guess.  First you fuck me and fill my bowels with spunk,
then you move around the bed to get sucked clean in my mouth.  My
mouth is yours to use however you want until the next man cums in
my ass.  You can hang around and jerk off onto my face, but you've
got to free up my mouth for the next cock.

Hour after hour, until dawn if it's a big group or guys go around
for seconds, I'll have a hard cock pounding away in my cum filled
ass and a cock getting cleaned or sucked in my mouth at all times.
My trucker buddies will collect a lot of money. Yup, they'll be
whoring me out, charging ten bucks to use my holes.  I'll learn
what it's like to be a boy-for-hire, a boy prostitute.
  
I'll also learn that I can't trust the men who befriend me, like
my trucker buddies.  I just know I'll wake up one morning, alone,
naked, tied to a bed in a trucker motel.  The foul taste in my
mouth; cum, piss, shit, ass juices, and the ooze dripping out of my
ass, will remind me of last night's activities. No clothes, no
friends, no money to pay the bill. The motel manager will fuck me
a couple of times, I'll be forced to suck his cock, and then he'll
call the police. The arresting officers will fuck me too, I'll suck
their dicks, and then, naked as the day I was born, they'll haul me
in front of a judge.

Ninety dollars for the motel bill or ninety days in jail. That'll
be my sentence.  I don't have ninety dollars or nine cents or
pockets.  I'll beg the judge to show me mercy, but the only thing
he'll show me is the couch in his chambers and the hard cock under
his robes. Two fuckings and a blow job later I'll be carted off,
naked, to the county jail to serve my sentence.

Late at night, after the guards and my latest cellmates have
finished using my cocksucker mouth and pussy boy ass, I'll lay
in my bunk and think about long ago summer days at the creek.

So that's why I stopped going to the creek during the summer,
after Tim, after I became a slave boy cocksucker at age 13,
because I knew what would happen.