Date: Wed, 21 Jan 2009 22:33:44 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Movies? - No, Thanks!, Part Four

THE MOVIES?  NO, THANKS!

By Pete Brown   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part Four

Jon, Dave an Chas were standing by my bum, and I felt one set of hands on
me again, pulling my cheeks apart.  Then I squirmed with the unusual
sensation as a finger trailed along my crack, and winced a bit as it
circled around my arse hole.

"Jesus Christ!  We've given him a real pounding!", I heard Jon say.  "Look
how puffy all the skin is around there.  The Asians will know he's not a
virgin, taking it for the first time."

"Not if we smear a lot of cum over it quickly at the start - we can milk
him again, and then you, Jamie, need to have the camera a bit off at the
side whilst we lube him up.... Show enough so they know we're using real
cum, but be careful not to get a head-on shot until he's pretty much
covered."

I hated the way they were talking about me like this, just as if I was not
there, as if I did not matter.  Although, of course, to them, I was
nothing, I was just there to be used.

"Of course we could always say it was razor burn", Dave added.  "A really
close shave on all those delicate membranes...."

All the men laughed, and Chas added "Let's not waste time, then - I'll run
the clippers over him, you hold him wide open, Jon, and you go and get the
shaving stuff, Dave."

I could feel Jon's strong fingers pulling me apart again then, and the
insistent whirr of the clipper started up again.  "Now hold still, Steve",
Chas told me.  "I don't want to nick any of the skin down here.  I'm going
to run them up and down the sides of your arse crack, and then there'll be
a bit of pulling and tugging as I need to do the bit between your hole and
the back of your balls, OK?"

"NO!  It's not fucking 'OK'.  Not at all...."

Chas just laughed.  "You don't know how lucky you are really, Steve.  A lot
of men like to be nice and smooth down there.  And an awful lot more would
really like to have three studs like us shaving them!  When we make a
complete shaving film there's never any shortage of applicants you
know....."

"Well I wouldn't be one of them.  A man isn't a real man without hair....."

"I shouldn't let it worry you.  After all, who's to know you've got a nice
smooth arse unless you start showing them.  But then I suppose that's what
all you rugger players do in those communal baths, isn't it?  A quick feel
and fumble amongst the lads....."

"NO!  Look, I've never done anything like that.  Never had another bloke's
cock anywhere near me...."

"Well now you know what you're missing, Steve.  And you know what they say
- 'there's a first time for everything'.  Mind you, I will warn you that
once you are shaved down there, you're going to have to keep it going, you
know.  When the hair starts growing it can really itch and irritate - think
about it, all those new, spiky pubic hairs pushing out and digging into
your arse, or your balls...."

He shut up then and got on with it.  And when Dave came over with a bowl of
water, shaving cream and one of those round shaving brushes, it was Chas
who lathered it up and then dabbed it all over my crack, hole and balls.
It was actually not unpleasant - no, it was more than that, it actually
felt somehow erotic to have the warm shaving foam and the soft, teasing
brush sort of "stabbing" at my arse hole and churning around, on the way
you do when you're lathering up.  I always wet shave my face as I've got a
really tough beard and electric razors don't do the business, so I knew
exactly what Chas was doing to me.  Then, of course, he started the actual
shaving, with one of those disposable razors, again telling me to hold very
still as he didn't want to nick me.  He was leaning really close in as I
could feel his hot breath on my arse as he worked away, and to my shame I
found myself starting to go erect at the thought of another bloke this
intimately
 close to me.

Chas slapped my bum, not hard, but I suppose in a sort of "matey" way and
told me "All done!  Smooth as a new-born baby, just what the Chinks like.
I suppose if they keep on getting more and more of the wealth on the world
we'll all end up having to shave ourselves all the time just to conform."

He didn't give me time to reply, though, as he got Jon and Dave and the two
cameramen together, and began to set the scene.  "OK, so we all know what
we're doing?  Exactly the same as before - wank him, lube him up, then the
same variations on fucking?  Or does anyone want a change - do you want to
ram him hard at the end, Jon?"

"No, you stick with it, mate!  I like to fuck a man sensuously."

They all laughed, and I watched, helpless, as the camera took up position.
And then it began all over again - exactly as before, as Chas had said.
The hands on my cock, pulling it back between my thighs and wanking me; the
lubricating and stretching of my poor arse hole (it was more painful this
time, as I was already sore), and then three fucks.

I was hoarse from shouting and crying, and my arse felt as if it was on
fire from the combined effects of the battering of their cocks and the
slaps to my bum when they'd finished.  And it was again Chas who wiped my
bottom and generally cleaned me up when it was all over.

Chas then knelt s so his face was close to mine when he'd done this, and
said "OK, Steve.  Now we're going to dress you - they like to see a man
having his underpants pulled on almost as much as they like seeing them
ripped off.  Then it's another dose of the magic juice, I'm afraid - but
when you wake up, you'll be home: you do want to go to the address in your
wallet, don't you?  Or shall we drop you off at your girlfriend's, or
something?"

"I haven't got a woman.... And if I had, I wouldn't want her to see me like
this...."

"Oh Steve, have you been holding out on us?  No girlfriend?  A stud like
you?  So is there some nice stud expecting you in his bed tonight, sick
with worry about why you're late, and wondering whether you've picked up
some new nice piece of manhood to play with?"

"I've told you, I'm straight!  It's just that.... Well.... Well, I'm
between girlfriends just at this moment."  Actually it did make me wonder -
why was I like this?  I'm good looking, in a job, I've got a good
body.... Why wasn't I shacked up with some woman, like most of the other
blokes at the rugger club?  It's funny how you think of things like that at
times like this, I suppose.

I don't know whether they'd fucked all the fight out of me, or whether I
was just so glad it was all over, but I didn't struggle at all as they
undid me from the frame and fastened my arms again to the pole.  And it did
feel good, as Chas knelt in front of me holding my underpants, and I
followed his gestured directions to put first one foot and then the other
into them.  It's really funny to have another man pull up your pants, and
when he "settled" my cock into position I could feel myself starting to get
an erection.  Chas was smiling and he looked up at me, and said casually
"Ah, Steve, you like that, do you?"

"No!  But.... But I need to piss.... It's making me hard."

Chas to his feet, moved behind me, and came back holding the bowl that had
had the shaving water in it.  He briskly pulled my pants down again, held
my cock lightly in his fingers to guide it to point into the bowl.  "OK,
Steve, piss away.... We don't want any accidents when the anaesthetic cuts
in, do we?"

Look, I'm not piss-shy or anything - I mean at most rugger clubs they only
have those long urinals with none of those stupid "modesty panels", so I'm
used to pissing with other guys.  But having someone else hold my cock -
well, I just couldn't make it happen.  And the more I tried, the more it
wouldn't work.  I felt myself starting to blush furiously.  And the more
Chas kind of moved my cock up and down to "encourage" it, the less I felt
able to piss - and then I knew what was going to happen, and in spite of
thinking about anything else I could, there was no was of stopping it: I
started to bone up.

Chas laughed aloud now.  "Oh, Steve!  You should have said you wanted a
last wank, not a piss! Or would you like one of us to suck you off?  Dave
there really likes a big, fat cock in his mouth...."

"NO!"

He got to his feet, stood in front of me, and said calmly "Don't worry,
Steve.  It happens to a lot of men.  Once they feel another bloke's fingers
on their cocks, they can't help it.  Now, I was serious - would you like us
to wank you?  Free of charge, no cameras running?  Just for fun?  Or do you
want a really good blow job, the best you've ever had, from Dave or Jon or
me?  You can choose - or you can have two of us working on you... Have you
ever been blown whilst someone else is sucking your balls?"

"NO!"

He shrugged.  "Your loss, Steve.  But you really had better try to piss.  I
tell you what - I'll put the bowl on the floor between your feet, and the
rest of us won't look, will we, guys?"

They all laughed at they said things like "No peeping, then!" And "A shy
one....", and rubbish like that.  But, finally, I was able to let go and
the moment he heard "water running", Chas was back there kneeling in front
of me holding the bowl up so there was "no splashing", he said.

The bastard pulled my foreskin back one last time, though, and "expressed"
the last traces out of my cock with his fingers - I know I keep saying I
felt utterly humiliated, but, somehow, having a man do this to me was even
worse than being fucked.

I was astonished what he did next, though.... He pressed in real close to
me, put an arm around my naked bum to steady himself, leaned forward, and
planted a kiss right on the end of my cock.  A thrill ran through me, and
he did it again, kissing the moist skin of my head, and causing me to moan
as his tongue probed into my piss hole.

He stood up, his tongue running around his lips, and his arm now went
around my head.  I wondered what he was up to, and then realised that he
was so close to my face, and he was going to kiss me!  I turned my head
away in disgust, and heard him say softly "Oh, Steve - come on, don't be
shy - after all we've been through, what's the problem in a final kiss?"

"Fuck you!", I snapped, my head still turned away.  And Chas reacted by
pushing his head down and starting to kiss the base of my neck, moving and
nuzzling and licking and kissing me... Probably just like I've sometimes
done with a woman, I suppose.  He looked me straight in the eyes then, and
bent once more.... I cried out as his teeth sank into the side of my neck,
and I cried again as he sensuously and gently bit me again and again.  I
tried to analyse my emotions - I ought to have been disgusted by another
bloke doing that to me, but, somehow, the sensation from my body as Chas's
cloths scraped against my naked skin, the scent of him as he pushed his
head so close to my nose, the sensation of his tongue and teeth on my neck,
all made me feel really horny.  I could feel my cock stretching the thin
fabric of my briefs.

Finally, though, his hands roamed around over the front of my underpants
once more and he massaged my totally hard dick through the thin material.
"Ah, Steve", he said quietly.  "If only you'd let yourself go a bit, we
could really have fun: your cock gives you away, mate: just turn your brain
off for a bit, and let your instincts take over...."

"Fuck you", I managed to say.  And I think I was a bit sad when I saw the
look of disappointment run over his face.  But he shrugged, bent down and
pulled my jeans on for me, re-threaded my belt and did it up, and finally
said "OK, Steve, fair enough.  I thought we might have a nice bloke who
wanted to experiment a bit.... But there are plenty more fish in the sea,
and I can't waste time on someone who can't make up their own mind to enjoy
themselves.  So this is it..... A last goodbye....."

He moved around behind me and I smelled that smell again, as Chas's arm
wrapped around my body and the fabric covered my nose and mouth.

_______________________________


When I came to I was sitting on a park bench not far from my flat.  My gym
bag was with me, I'd got a clean sweat shirt on, my wallet was in my
pocket, everything.

I stumbled home, and stripped off my clothes, and as I stood in front of
the full-length mirror in my bedroom I almost did not recognise myself: my
cock looked huge, sticking out there from my bare body.  And as I twisted
around to get a view of my backside, I saw the deep red on my bum where
they'd taken my belt to me.  I realised I was erect, but I didn't want to
wank just then.... I got the shaving mirror out of the bathroom and put it
on the floor, then squatted down over it to get a look at my arse hole.
Not that it did much good, as I wasn't sure what it looked like normally,
as I've never been the sort of bloke who wants to look at his arse (or any
other man's, for that matter!).  But I did get a good view as it was all
naked with my pubes and stuff totally shaved, and I'd heard them say I
looked "puffy", and I suppose they were right - well, anyway, they were far
more expert than me in these matters.  Certainly when I reached down
underneath
 myself to touch it, it felt really uncomfortable.

Normally I like a shower, but I ran a hot bath and lay in it for almost an
our, scrubbing away at my skin occasionally with soap, and letting in hot
water now and then, as if I could in some way wash away the shame and
embarrassment I felt at what had happened.  I even tried pushing the corner
of my flannel up my hole to clean it out, but it hurt a bit, so I stopped.
As I lay there I wondered what I should do - I mean, I had been raped.  I
ought to have got out of the bath and honed the police - but the thought of
all those coppers asking me questions about what had actually gone on, and
some of them no doubt sniggering and laughing about how a tough bloke like
me hadn't been able to stop them.... Well, there was just no way I could do
it.

So I lay in bed, but I couldn't sleep as I kept thinking about what they'd
done to me.  And I hate not sleeping - and usually there's a simple
solution for me: I just wank, and afterwards I drift off straight away.
The wanking was no problem as my cock was nice and hard, but to my horror
as I worked away I found myself thinking not about some of the women I'd
had, but about how the bodies of Jon, Dave and Chas had felt against
mine.....  I wanted to stop, but I was too close... Too close, even, to
reach out for a paper hanky.... And just shot my load all over the sheets.
Well, that's one advantage of living alone, I suppose: it's only you who
gets your cum all over you if you shoot off in bed!

The next morning I still didn't know what to do, and I reckon that if I'd
seen a policeman in the street through my window, I might have called him
in.  But somehow I just could not pick up the phone.  We had a match that
afternoon, though, so I made myself a proper breakfast - sausages, bacon,
eggs, toast, the lot.... Then I had to find some clean kit, and as I went
to put it in my sports bag, I found an envelope lying on top of my dirty
gym kit.

There was a thousand, in twenties!  No note, nothing.  Just the thousand.
I sat there looking at it - I mean, that's a lot of money for me: a single
man, with all the taxes... You don't often get your hands on that much
cash, do you?  But it made me feel dirty all over again - not only had I
been fucked, I'd been paid for it!  I felt as if I was some kind of rent
boy or prostitute.  If only there had been someone there I could have
talked to about it, I know they'd have told me it wasn't my fault, that the
money didn't alter the fact that I'd been raped.... But there wasn't, and I
was only jerked out of my introspection by the thought that I'd otherwise
be late for the match, and I'd not let my team down.

It wasn't so bad before the match - I went into the changing room, laughed
a bit with some of my mates, then stripped off my jeans and pants and
pulled my jockstrap on, before changing into my jersey and shorts.  We had
the usual rough game, and it as only afterwards that the trouble began.

In the excitement of the match, and with my whole body hurting anyway from
a few punches and scuffles, as you expect, I'd forgotten about my ordeal.
But of course the moment my mates saw me naked as I was in the showers,
they started to jeer about my shaved pubes - I wasn't the only one with
trimmed pubes, as I've told you, but most of us thought that having your
pubes cut just to please your girlfriend was going too far.  And, anyway,
the others had just lost some of it - I was the only one absolutely bald,
just like a new-born baby.

I tried to make a joke of it, saying they were just jealous of my big cock,
but Sean, who's normally my best friend in the team, came and slapped me on
the bum in a friendly way and said "Well you must be keen on her, anyway,
Steve.... Look at all those love bites!"

All the others crowded around - we're not prudes in the team, and it's OK
to touch another bloke in the showers provided you leave his cock and balls
alone - and with fifteen blokes all together it's almost inevitable there
will be some skin to skin contact. There was a lot of friendly banter until
someone shouted out "Mind you, she's got a hell of a big mouth, judging
from the size of those things.... Still, I suppose she'd need to have, if
she's blowing Steve regularly...."

I was expecting the laughter to continue, but it all went strangely silent,
and the men backed away and carried on showering, mostly quietly.  And
there wasn't the normal atmosphere of joking and stuff as we dressed.  It
was quiet in the bar afterwards, too, and I could feel a bit of an
atmosphere - some of the lads were talking together in little groups, and
somehow I couldn't seem to join in.  Finally, Sean put his arm around my
shoulder and pulled us close, so that the others couldn't hear.  "Look,
Steve, I've known you long time.  We're best mates, right?"

"Of course...."

He moved around, clearly embarrassed.  "Look, Steve... Some of the other
guys.... Look, I'm your mate, right?  And I'm not prejudiced, not like some
of the fuckers, OK?....."

"What the fuck are you going on about?"

"Steve, it won't do!  The lads don't like it.  It's awkward... Us being
mates and all...."

"What the fuck are you going on about, Sean?"

"We don't like queer boys here, Steve. You know that - you've said so often
enough yourself.  I'm sorry, mate.  But it won't do...  Look, perhaps you
could join that special club for queers...."

"What the fuck are you going on about?  You know I'm straight...."

"I used to think you were.  But there's too much stacking up, Steve.....
You haven't been in here with a girl for ages...."

"Yes, the last bitch broke up with me, and I haven't had time...."

"Sure, that happens a lot.  But the other stuff... Shaving your pubes....."

"...a lot of blokes clip their hair..."

"...but not shave it off totally.  And those love bites...."

"I've seen you with them, Sean...."

"But not that big.  Only a bloke would have a mouth that big.  And then Tim
reckons those red marks on your arse are from a thrashing..."

"...and how would he know?"

"Look, Steve, don't make it hard on us.  A lot of the blokes here don't
like queers, don't like having you look a us in the showers, don't want you
touching them in the scrums....  Just get your bag and go, OK?"

"No, it's not OK!  You're my mate, Sean..."

"Yes, Steve, and that's why I'm telling you.  Some of the other lads want
to take you out to the car park and give you a good sorting out...."

"This is stupid!  I've been in the team here for six years...."

"Steve, that makes it worse!  We're all thinking about you looking at us
all that time.  And when we went on tour, sharing a room with you.... And
the stripping games and stuff... Now, come on, before there's real
trouble....  Some of the younger lads have had a drop too much to drink
already, and things could turn nasty...."

I looked around, and saw the look of sheer hostility on the faces of some
of the men I'd been friend with for years, or so I thought.  "Look....", I
called out, meaning to give them an explanation.  But they all turned their
backs on me.

To salvage some shred of pride I stormed out - I'm not the kind of man
who's going to get thrown out of places.  And I went home, and got drunk.
So on the Sunday morning as well as my other problems I'd got a foul
hangover.

I'd usually go down the club just before noon and have a few beers with the
lads, and then those of us without current women would go off for a curry
or something, but I couldn't do that now.  So I was pretty lonely, and I
mostly sat around thinking about having been raped.  Even then, I suppose,
I could have gone to the police, but I felt ashamed now not only about what
had happened to me, but in not having had the guts to call them Friday
night.  I felt really depressed, until about four o'clock, it suddenly came
to me: I could track them down....  I fired up my PC and started searching
for places in London which sold specialist cameras like they'd been using,
and I remembered that the cameraman Ian had said it was new.

Well, my luck was in.  It was indeed new.  Some store down near Wardour
Street claimed it was the only place in the country that had them yet.  So
I reckoned that if Ian was going to get a repair, or a replacement, he'd
have to end up there.  Once I'd worked that out, I began to feel better,
and as I had the PC on, I started to watch some porn, which made me feel
even better.  Although I started to worry a bit - was I really looking at
the women, or was I only doing it to look at the cocks on the blokes, and
the way their arses pounded up and down as they screwed the bitches?
That's the kind of crap you start to worry about when your mates start to
call you a queer, I suppose.  So after an hour or so, I snapped the lid
closed and went to bed, and lay there just wanking and generally playing
with myself.

On Monday morning I called the foreman on the site and gave him some
bullshit about not feeling well - he cursed a bit and said I was hung over,
and that he'd forget about it just this once as I was usually reliable,
provided I turned up on Tuesday.  So then I went off into the West End, and
took up station opposite the shop, just before it opened.

When you see cops and people "staking out" places on TV, it always looks
easy.  But after about fifteen minutes I realised I looked really
conspicuous standing there - for one thing, I had my big donkey jacket on,
and most of the other people were in "smart" kind of stuff.  And they were
all hurrying along, whereas I was clearly loitering.  And it was freezing
cold, too - especially when it began to drizzle.  I tried going into a
coffee place and keeping watch from there, but there's only so long you can
sit nursing a coffee, isn't there?  So then I walked up and down - but you
can't go too far, in case you miss something.

By about ten I was thinking about giving up - especially as the coffee had
worked its way through and I felt desperately in need of a pee.  But my
luck was in, as just as I was about to go, a taxi pulled up and Ian got out
clutching a big bag, one of those "professional" ones you use for cameras
and stuff like that.  He was in the shop quite a while, and I began to
worry what I'd do if he came out and got another cab - I mean, you can
hardly get another one and say "Follow that cab!", can you?  They only do
that in the movies.  And then there's the expense - with the ludicrous
price of London taxis, I didn't know if I could afford it (although I then
thought about the thousand, and smiled).

He didn't get a taxi, though, and instead I had the problem of trying to
follow him without being seen.... All that stuff about ducking into
doorways and so on doesn't work, if you're trying to follow someone in a
crowded London street.  But then, he wasn't expecting to be followed - who
is?  And so it wasn't too bad, and I trailed him to Tottenham Court Road,
where he got the Central and I was able to keep an eye on him by getting
into the next carriage and looking through the windows in the emergency
doors.  I almost lost him in the crush at Bank, but managed to spot him
heading for the DLR, and, like him, threw myself into a Lewisham train just
as the doors were closing.


He got out at Crossharbour, and I followed him to a new block of flats.  As
he buzzed open the entrance doors, I came right up behind him and kind of
pushed him in, grabbing his arm and really catching him by surprise.

"What the fuck....", he started to say.

"Remember me, Ian?  It is Ian, isn't it?  The man with the broken camera?
The man who couldn't finish filming Steve on Friday?"

"What the... How did you...."

"Shut up, fucker!  Is this where Chas and the others live?"

"No."

"Best take me into your flat, then.... And we'll call them."

"No... Look, Steve, I'm sorry.... Let's...."

"Listen, do you want me to make a scene here?  Or call the police?  Or
shall we just go quietly into your flat, then you can call the others and
get them over here.... I haven't got a quarrel with you personally, really
- I guess you were just doing a job.... It's those bastards Jon and Dave
and Chas.... Especially Chas, as he organised it."

"No, I...."

"Listen, fucker.  You saw my body.  You know how strong I am.  Do you want
me show you just how tough I can be when my arms aren't out of action?  It
won't be a knee in your balls, Ian... I'll beat you to a pulp, and then
we'll see how co-operative you can be... Would your girlfriend like you
without all those teeth, and with your nose broken?"

"Listen, it's not like you think...."

"Shut the fuck up!  Either let's go in and you can get Chas over here, or
I'll lay into you...."

He shrugged in resignation, and we went up into the lift, along a corridor,
and into a really nice flat - all new, and clean.

I started to look around ,with Ian watching me warily.  "Don't....", he
cried as I went to go into one of the bedrooms, but of course that only
made me more curious and I went in.

It was set up as what looked like one of those professional editing places
you see in films - a couple of big PCs, and about five really huge screens
attached to them.  Lots and lots of DVD cases in racks, and a slew of them
across the desk.  The PCs were on, and when I touched a key on one of the
keyboards, the screens lit up.... With me!  There I was, naked, getting
fucked.  Or just standing there naked.  Or with a tortured look on a close
up of my face.

One of the screens was in an e-mail program, and as I read it, my curiosity
was raised.  I paged back a bit and read more... Then I grabbed hold of Ian
by his shirt, and dragged him out of there and back into the living room -
I couldn't bear to be in there seeing all those pictures of myself being
humiliated like that.

"So, Ian.... It's not Chas who runs it, is it?  I thought he was in
charge.... But he wasn't, was he?"

"You saw him...."

"I saw him.. And I felt him, felt him fucking me, sure enough!  But I've
just read that mail.  You set this up, didn't you?  You do all of it - hire
Chas, Dave and Jon...."

"Look, Steve...."

"Look?  Look?"  I could feel my temper starting to get the better of
me. "Look?  What do you want me to look at?  Pictures of me getting raped?
Or pictures of some other poor sods getting raped?  How many of these have
you set up?"

He started to say something, but I lost it.  I hit him - no a punch, but a
great swipe, with the open hand, to the side of his head.  He's not a big
bloke, and it threw him completely off balance, and he fell to the ground.
He knelt there, rubbing the side of his face, looking at me in utter
astonishment.

"Get up!"

"No, please..."

"Get the fuck up, on your feet, like a man... Or do you want me to give you
a good kicking while you kneel there like a dog."

"Please don't hit me...."

"And why not? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't bat the shit out of
you."

"We don't really hurt people...."

"You stupid fuck!  You don't think it hurts to be raped....?"

"Only for a bit.... The first few times...."

"You stupid fuck!  It's not that... Not the actual pain.... What can I do,
now I'm not a real man any longer?"

"Steve, be reasonable...."

"Be reasonable?  Be reasonable?".  I was shouting now. I was so angry. I
felt like really piling into him, beating him to a pulp.  But then I could
imagine what might happen - he'd call the police, get rid of all the tapes,
he knew where I lived.... It would be me hauled up into Court.  It would
only be my word against the five of theirs.  They'd lie, and say they
picked me up, that I was putting out, for rent.....  There was no way I
could get them convicted, and the law would do me for GBH, which is always
custodial....

I felt myself calming down. There was another way of punishing him.  "Take
your clothes off", I commanded.

"What?"

"You heard me!  Take your clothes off - all of them.  Strip.  Get naked."

"Steve, please...."

I advanced on him, threateningly, and he cowered in front of me. Actually,
having a man terrified of you like that is a bit of a turn-on.

"Are you going to get naked, or am I going to have to hit you?"

He looked pleadingly at me, but I glared back, and slowly, agonisingly
slowly, he pulled his shirt out of his jeans, unbuttoned it, and took it
off.  He didn't have a bad body - not muscular as such, but lean and trim.

"All of it!", I snapped, and slowly undid his belt, pushed down the zip on
his jeans, and shuffled them down.  He hopped from foot to foot as he took
off his trainers and eased his jeans totally off.  He stood there then in
front of me in his socks and boxers - the sort you get from Next, with
short legs, and really snug fitting.

"Come on, Ian... What's the problem?  You liked seeing me strip, didn't
you?  Now lose those socks, and then I want the boxers off."

A couple more hops from one foot to the other, and then, slowly, very
slowly, he pushed his boxers down and stepped out of them.  His cock was
properly in proportion to the rest of him, and like most of the young lads
at the club, he wasn't circumcised - although he didn't have one of those
foreskins that trailed down a long way beyond the end of his cock.  He was
moderately hairy, and I reckoned he trimmed his bush a bit.

"Lose the watch, and that stupid necklace", I snapped.  "I want you
completely bare.  Naked as the day you were born."

He kept his eyes on me as he obeyed, and I stepped forward then and grabbed
his arm, spinning him around.  He had a small, tight bum - at the club we'd
have said he was the perfect hooker type.  I couldn't resist it - I gave
him a good slap on his bum, and he shouted out in surprise.

"Lucky it's only my hand, eh, Ian?  I seem to remember it was a leather
belt on Friday across my arse."

"Look, Steve, what do you want?  More money....?"

"No.  You raped me - or, rather, you had me raped.  And I reckon if it's
sauce for the goose, it's sauce for the gander, as the old saying
goes....."

"No, please...."

"What's the matter, Ian?  You just like seeing blokes made to take cock,
and you don't like it yourself?"

"No, but...."

"But nothing!  Get into the bedroom....!"

He went to say something, to protest again, so I slapped his bum, this time
a bit harder, and still gripping his arm, pushed him in front of me into
the bedroom, and roughly pushed him don onto the bed.

He stared at me as I stripped off my clothes, and I just smiled.  "I bet
you never thought you'd see me naked in the flesh again, not on tape, did
you?"

"Steve, please...."

I went and stood right in front of him.  "Now, Ian, I'm told men like
sucking cock... So why don't you wrap that mouth of yours around mine, and
show me how I should have done it on Friday?"

I had to threaten to hit him again before he slowly took my cock in his
hand, and then bent his head and started to nuzzle and suck at me with his
lips.  I'd really only meant to humiliate him, but as he worked away I
couldn't help it - seeing the young slim guy with his head bobbing up and
down as he worked at my cock was somehow erotic and arousing, and my cock
went rock hard.  I thought about really fucking his throat, as they'd
fucked mine, but remembered the vile way I felt as all that phlegm and
stuff came up from my stomach.  So instead I pushed him away, and said,
calmly, "Lie down.... On your belly...."

He did as he was told, and I went and lay on top of him: it felt fantastic,
to feel the heat of him under me.  I wrapped my legs around his, pushed his
arms out above his head, and buried my face in the nape of his neck.  My
cock was giving me problems, so I eased myself backwards and forwards until
it lodged in his arse crack - it seemed somehow natural.

He was making little whimpering noises, and I eased my weight up off him
for a moment.

"Are you going to fuck me?", he almost whispered.

"I reckon so."

"There are condoms in the side table...."

"What about all that stuff on Friday about not wanting to blunt the
sensation?  Anyway, I never use them.... Well, not on women.....  So I
think I'll manage your arse without them..."

"Please, no...."

"What's the matter?  Scared?  It was OK for you to have Chas and Dave and
Jon fuck me without them.  I hope you got them medically checked out,
because if they gave me something, you're going to get it now."

He turned his face into the sheet, and I thought he might be about to cry.
But my cock was hard, and you know how it is, it starts to hurt after a
while if you don't do anything about it.  So I raised myself up of him a
bit, reached underneath and spread his cheeks, and felt around to find the
spot.  The air around his hole felt all kind of silky, and I positioned my
cock, and thrust in.

He screamed.  And to stop him, I had to force his head down into the sheets
- I wasn't sure whether his neighbours would hear through the walls.

It was utterly fantastic.  He was so tight, and as I forced my cock home
the way his arse gripped me made me almost want to come immediately.  But
it was more than that - it wasn't just the feelings flooding through me
from my cock, it was the exercise of power over him: here I was fucking
this guy, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.  I was in charge,
totally in control, doing what a strong man had a right to do to a weak
one.

His hot sweaty bum felt fantastic against my pubic bone as I got right home
as far as I could, and then, of course, I began to fuck him
seriously.... No big, long thrusts, but a lot of little ones, very fast.  I
felt my heart begin to race, I broke out in sweat with the
exertion.... And, all too soon, I felt myself beginning to cum.  I
desperately held myself back as I pulled out of him, roughly turned him
over so he was lying on his back, straddled him with my knees and waddled
forward a bit.... It only took a couple of wanks before I shot my cum all
over his face, as he lay there looking up at me.

I went into the bathroom leaving him lying there, so I could wash his shit
off my cock - that's one advantage of fucking a woman, I suppose (well, if
you don't take he in the arse, at least).  And then I felt terrible about
what I'd done - but at least with me it had just been anger and passion,
not old and calculated and set-up.  I could see how easy it was to get
totally carried away - I'd only meant to humiliate him a bit, but I'd ended
up raping him.  And I wasn't queer, not really.  It was just that his body
and arse were so tempting.

Rubbing my cock dry with one of his towels I walked back into the bedroom,
expecting to see him crying or something.... But instead of that he was
spread-eagled on the bed, his arms and legs thrown out casually, looking
really relaxed.  He patted the sheet by the side of him.

"Come on, Steve..... Come and lie here.....  You like to play rough, don't
you!"

Gingerly, not really knowing why, I did so.  It felt odd to have another
man's body so close to mine, so intimately close.

As I watched, he ran a finger over his face, using it to push some of my
cum into his mouth.  He was smiling, faintly, and licked his lips.  Then he
pushed the finger towards me.... Moving it so it almost touched my lips.

"No...", I began. "I'm not queer...."

"Come on, Steve.... It's only your own cum....", he whispered. And somehow,
it seemed so sexy that I opened my mouth and sucked at his finger.  He
moved up, leaned over me, bent his head down - I caught a whiff of cum as
he did so - then he went to kiss me.

I turned my head away.  "I told you, I'm not fucking queer...."

He persisted, though, holding my chin and gently moving my face back so I
was looking directly at him.  "Come on, Steve... You've fucked me... So why
won't you kiss me?  Are you scared?"

"Blokes don't do that with other blokes..."

"Shhhh..", he whispered.  "Don't be afraid.  I didn't mark you as a bloke
who'd be scared...."

Look, there's no way some wimp is going to say I'm scared of anything!  I
was going to tell him so, but he pushed his face down into mine.  I felt
his tongue probing, and opened my mouth a little....

Look, there are some things you shouldn't write about.  And the way that
Ian showed me how two men really ought to treat each other is one of them.
So all I'll say is that at about five o'clock, when Jamie got home, we were
still in bed.

Jamie looked shocked when he first came into the room and saw us locked
together, embracing and stroking and kissing, the bed in a complete turmoil
of tangled sheets.  Then, as I watched, he began to strip.

"Hey", Ian said, laughing.  "It's no good.  I've worn Steve out."

I felt my cock stir.  "I've never done a threesome...", I confessed.
"Never found two women who'd be prepared to do it...."

Jamie laughed now.  "Well, Steve, things are a bit different with men.  A
body like yours.... Two, three, four... An orgy.... There's lots of men
who'd be glad to join in."

"Before you two get stuck in, let me get the camera and record it....  I
reckon I've got just enough energy let for that", Ian told us.

"The movies?  No, thanks", I told him.  "I reckon I had enough of that for
a lifetime on Friday.  It's strictly for fun from now on I must have had
the shortest careeer as a movie star ever: Just the one production.  Still,
it paid well....."

The End.
London, January, 2009.

Author's note: As I said when I began this, it is rather different from my
other stories.  I wanted to try my hand at "normal" porn, without all the
slavery.  And I wanted to write a short story.  Clearly I haven't succeeded
in my second objective, as, like most of my stories, once I'd begun to
think about Steve and how he felt, the words just flowed and flowed and I
have no enthusiasm for re-wording and re-writing.  As Oscar Wilde said
"I've written you a long letter, as I had no time to write a short one".