Date: Thu, 29 May 2003 10:18:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: Mitchell Conner <fantasywriter000@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Ride Home, Part 1

DISCLAIMER: If gay content, gay sex, kink, bondage,
S&M or actual dialogue in a porn story offends you
please don't read further.  If it's illegal for you
to read this story due to your age or location,
either grow up or move before reading on. The names,
events, circumstances, and locations in this story
are all fictitious. It's fantasy, get it?

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The Ride Home, Part One
By MC

At least the equipment was familiar.  I settled in to
a set of bench presses.

I used to think of culture shock as kind of exciting,
recalling my visits to Europe and Asia.  But I'd
found that true culture shock is moving from Los
Angeles to the mid-west.

Even with the A/C on my reps were making me drip with
sweat.  Put it down to what the locals called
"ninety/ninety," meaning ninety degrees, ninety-
percent humidity.

After transferring from Los Angeles to Indianapolis I
told friends, `I've traded earthquakes for
tornadoes.' That and my condo off Santa Monica Blvd.
for a place in the `burbs.

One of the things I hadn't traded off was keeping in
shape.  I'd found a great gym a few miles from home
and went there regularly. Unlike working out in LA,
there were no lines for equipment, which meant you
could really get in a good workout.  Being hetero
midwest it was better that way-you weren't expected
to be cruising your fellow gym-members anyway.

I'd notched up the weight on my second set.  Not as
much as some of the big Midwestern boys around me.
There were some truly magnificent specimens of the
Midwest farmboy type who came to this gym.  They
looked like they could lift a tractor.  I'd long ago
figured I'd never be an "Ahnold" and was satisfied
with maintaining my forty-four inch chest, thirty-one
inch waist and sixteen inch arms.  With dark blonde
hair, blue-gray eyes and a dimpled smile I'd done
just fine in the Los Angeles scene.  Out here in the
flatlands a thirty-something specimen like me turned
the heads of both sexes, but discretion was a
necessity of my work.  Thank God for gay.com and the
mere three-hour drive to Chicago for the occasional
weekend.  There was nobody special up there-hell,
there'd been nobody special for me back in LA.  I
knew I was gay, comfortable with it even, but could
never quite put it all together in a relationship.
There always seemed to something missing, but it
didn't keep me from trying.


My workout had evolved over many years in the gym.  I
was much more methodical now, using the best possible
form and taking my time with each rep for a more
thorough workout.  As I was slowly lifting the bar
towards the top of my ninth rep, a pair of hands came
into view on the outside edges of the bar.

"Here, I'll spot you," came a voice from the owner of
the hands.

With this much weight directly over my head I wasn't
in the position for a conversation, so I just kept
moving the bar, out to extension then back down
towards my chest.  As I started back up for my tenth
and final rep my spotter leaned in a bit and I got a
better view of who was talking.

In this position I was looking at the upside down
face of a black kid, probably about sixteen years
old.  Maybe it was because of oxygen depletion from
the lifting of the upside-down thing but it was kind
of hard to tell if he was cute, plain or hideous.  As
I slowly lifted the bar towards the rack I felt the
heat from his hands next to mine as he assisted me.

"Thanks," I offered, sitting up and turned around
towards him.

"You're welcome," he replied.

"He," being a truly good-looking kid with light
caramel colored skin, doe-eyes, long eyelashes and
sensuous lips.  He stood about five-foot-ten with a
hundred-fifty pounds of lean muscle.  "I couldn't
tell if you were going slow on purpose or what," he
added.

"I go slow on purpose.  I'd rather have good form
than massive weight," I replied, nodding in the
direction of a fellow gym-goer literally swinging the
weight like a pendulum trying to do bicep curls.

"That's what my trainer told me," he said.  He seemed
to look through my tank-top when he added, "Seems to
work pretty good for you."

"Thanks," I replied.  "Gotta' keep moving."

"Yeah, later."

Did I feel the heat from the workout or his eyes on
me as I walked away?  I wasn't going to go there.
Not the time.  Not the place.  And definitely not the
right age.

The rest of the workout went quickly.  I was living
in my head as usual.  Trying not to think about that
kid, the beefy farmboys, or the fact that I was
heading into Memorial Day weekend without any plans.

Last rep of the last set and it was time to go.  I
felt good. Grabbed my sweat towel off the machine and
headed out to my car. Some pretty ominous black
clouds were a few miles off and I realized I'd have
to step it up if I wanted to avoid the damaging hail
that came with living here in tornado alley.

"Hey, can I ask you a favor?"

I looked up from unlocking my car door and there was
that kid-standing at the passenger door wearing a
backpack.  "Sure, what?"

"I only live a few miles from here and it looks like
it's going to get ugly real quick," the kid said,
pointing at the oncoming weather.

"Okay, but you'll have to give me directions.  I'm
pretty new here and I only know how to get to work,
the grocery store, and Chicago," I replied.

"And the gym," the kid added, smiling at me.
I unlocked the doors and we both got in.

"Nice ride. Mr. ?," he asked as we drove out of the
parking lot.

"Gene," I said, filling in the blank.  "And you are?"
I added, extending my hand.

"Carter.  Carter Woods," he answered and grabbed my
hand in a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Carter."

"This is a Firehawk, isn't it?" he asked.

"Very good," I replied.  "Most guys know it's a
Firebird but very few know what a Firehawk is.

"The power of a Vette without the disco flash of a
Trans Am,"

Carter said, smiling.

"I see you read the reviews."

"Of course man, I love powerful cars," Carter
replied, turning the smile up another 100 watts.
"You ever race it?"

"No," I smiled back. "Those black and white cars with
the funny lights on top don't really like it if I
do."

Carter laughed in response.

"But I have driven to Chicago in under three hours a
few times." "All right!"  Carter's smile was almost
blinding me.

And so the trip to Carter's house went.  Idle chit-
chat about cars segued into a short Carter bio.  He
was sixteen, attended the prestigious St. Mark's
Academy where he was an academic allstar.  His
intelligence and command of language would've been
impressive on a grownup, on him it was as spectacular
as the smile.  I caught a few glimpses of some nicely
formed perfectly smooth pecs through the side
openings of his loose-fitting tanktop as we drove
along.

We pulled up to a stop sign and Carter rolled down
the passengerside window.

"Hey Darren!" he yelled out.

I looked to the right and saw a blond-haired boy
about Carter's age and size wearing a St. Mark's
jacket come walking over to the car.

"Cool car, huh?" Carter said, a note of possession in
his voice.

"Very cool," Darren replied as he walked up.  If
there'd been a beach nearby Darren would've looked
entirely appropriate carrying a surfboard.  The
complete fantasy would've included him wearing a
Speedo.

"This is my friend Gene," Carter said.

"Nice to meet you," Darren said, waving.

"Likewise."

"You are coming over later, right?" Carter said, a
demanding tone in his voice.

"Yeah. I mean, yes, Carter," Darren replied, like a
private responding to a sergeant.

"Good boy," Carter said, rolling up his window, and
turning towards me.  "We should get going, it looks
like it's about to rain or worse."

"Uh, yeah. okay," I replied, noting the change in
Carter's tone.

We waved our goodbyes and took off.  A few more turns
and we pulled up to the driveway of his home just as
the hail started.

"Can't let this baby get hit by that," Carter said,
pulling a keychain with a small fob on it out of his
backpack.  He pointed it at the garage door and it
opened, revealing an open slot next to an older
Honda.  "Pull it in."

Not wanting my shiny toy to get damaged I pulled into
the safe dry garage.

"Thanks, I owe you one," I said, looking out at the
dime-sized hail coming down.

"I'll let you pay me back later," he replied, his
smile a bit devilish.  "Come on in."

I got out of the car and followed Carter into the
house.  Inside was typical Midwest.  Too traditional
for me.  Pleasant in the manner of a dentist's
waiting room.

"Want something to drink?  Water?  Juice?  Milk?
Beer?" Carter asked

"A beer sounds pretty good actually," I replied, then
added, "Are you sure this is okay?"

"So long as you follow the rules," he replied,
laughing.  "My parents are in Chicago until next
Tuesday.  I get to make the rules now."

"Okay, I'll be good," I said, playing along with the
joke.

"Good b..." Carter cut himself off, then added
firmly, "Good."

Carter went to the refrigerator and I heard the pop
as a can was opened.  A few moments later he turned
around, went to the cupboard, got a glass and poured
the beer into it.

"Thanks," I said, as he handed me my drink.

I took a deep swallow.  There's nothing like a cold
beer after a hard workout.

"You ever drink?"

"No.  I don't like to be out of control," Carter
replied.  "So what are you doing this weekend?"

"Nothing planned actually.  I haven't been here long
enough to get in the loop of things," I said, taking
another healthy swallow of beer.

"I can't believe a guy like you isn't going to party
the weekend away," Carter replied.

"Hey, I'm not the teenager whose parents are out of
town and has the perfect opportunity for a party."

"Not my style," Carter replied evenly.  "But it
sounds like you've been there?"

"Once, when I was seventeen.  It was a disaster.  It
was the weekend I learned to paint and plaster."

"Huh?" Carter asked.

"When your best friend puts his fist through the wall
you either fix it yourself or face the consequences.
By the time my parents got home the whole living room
was repainted because I couldn't match the paint.
They gave me fifty bucks for being such a good kid."

"Outrageous," Carter laughed.  "Did they ever figure
it out?"

"Years later I was having a few too many beers with
my Dad and told him.  He already knew.  Told me my
punishment was feeling guilty all those years."

"Yeah, my Dad's sly that way too," Carter said.

I'd had half a beer by now but it felt like half a
six-pack.  I was feeling flush and a bit tipsy.

"Seriously, do you think that being gay and stuck in
this town is why you don't have anything to do?"
Carter asked, looking directly into my eyes.

It felt just like the time Tommy had sucker-punched
me in the nose in the Junior High bathroom.  A cloud
of black enveloped my head for a moment.

"Hey, it's okay.  Cool even," Carter said, seeing my
reaction.

"I'm not..." I started to reply.

"Bullshit," Carter cut me off.  "I've seen you in the
gym ever since you moved here.  You don't look at
tits and when you look at ass it's on a guy not a
girl."

"I. I... "  My head was really swimming now.  "Seen
me in the gym?" was all I could manage in further
reply.

"You're hard not to notice," Carter said, reaching
out and brushing his hand over my left nipple.

"Hey," I said, stepping back out his reach.  "What do
you want?" "You of course."

"Not gonna happen," I replied.

"What, too young for you?" Carter leered at me.

"That's one good reason."  I replied, setting the
almost empty glass of beer on the counter.  "I better
get going."

"No." Carter said, evenly, stepping between the
garage door and me.

I started to lift my hands towards Carter to move him
aside. "Don't do that."  Carter said.

"I really should go," I insisted.

"No, I'm telling you.  Don't go," Carter said firmly.
"Look, it's like this.  You need to do what I tell
you."

"Huh?"

"See, all I have to do is pick up this phone and make
a call," Carter said, then mimicked his phone
conversation.  " `Hello. Yeah, this guy gave me a
ride home then forced his way into the house and
touched me and made me do stuff.'  They'd lock your
ass up quicker than that car of yours gets to sixty."

"What the fuck?" I yelled.

Before I could tell what was happening I felt
Carter's right hand hit my chest push me back against
the wall, hard.

As he leaned into me he said in a low voice, "Don't
you ever yell at me again, do you hear me?"

"Sorry," I replied.

Carter's left hand came across my right cheek just as
quickly.

My ears were ringing from the blow.

"That's `Sorry, Sir' boy!"

"I'm sorry, Sir," I replied, stunned.

"Good boy," Carter said.  He sounded just like when
he'd spoken to Darren.

"What do you want?" I asked.  I saw Carter's left
hand poised again and I added, "Sir?"

"Your ass.  Your mouth.  And whatever else I say."

"What?  I don't... you're only sixteen. how did
you.?"

"How did I get this way? Hah!" Carter replied.  "When
I was thirteen I figured out I liked boys for sex.
But it was more than that.  I had to be the one
calling the moves, in control. When I got on the net
I learned about Masters and slaves. Bondage.  S&M."

I just stared at Carter.

"But when I've cruised the net looking you think any
of those sissy boys out there could possibly
understand me?  I look like some innocent boy and all
those queens out there want is for me to roll over so
they can take my cherry.  Fuck them," he growled. "By
the way, your profile on gay.com doesn't do you
justice."

"Shit," was all I could manage to say.

"So see, I already knew your story before today.  Now
it's just a matter of training."

"I really should go," I said.

"Fine," Carter replied, stepping away from me.

As I walked towards the garage door Carter walked to
the kitchen phone and picked it up.

"I wasn't kidding," he said.

I stopped and turned towards him.

"You follow my rules and there's no problems, you got
it?"

"Yeah," I said, flatly.

Carter glared at me.

"Yes Sir," I amended.

"Good boy.  Now, get that shirt off."

I took my tank-top off and laid it on the
chair back.

"Lean over the counter and put your hands behind your
back," Carter ordered.

As I did I heard the zipper on Carter's backpack.
Then I felt a soft nylon rope being wound around my
wrists.  There was a strong tug as Carter tied the
knot and pulled on my shoulders so that I was
standing again.  I moved my wrists around-there was
no escaping.

"What the.?" I started to say.

"What'd you say, boy?"

"Nothing, Sir," I replied.

"That's better," Carter said, facing me and putting
his left hand behind my neck while lightly moving his
right hand up and down my chest and abs.  He then
leaned in and put his lips over mine. They felt as
good as they'd looked earlier in the gym but I
wouldn't give in.  I held my lips together then felt
white-hot pain on my left nipple as Carter pinched it
hard.  My mouth opened in response to the pain and
Carter's tongue entered my mouth.  He continued to
pinch and work my nipple as he tongue fucked my
mouth.

Carter then backed me into the wall and used both
hands to attack my nipples, his mouth over mine
muffling my painful moans.

Then he stopped.  He took his right hand and started
lightly playing with my now sensitive nipples and I
moaned.  His left hand immediately covered my mouth
as the light nipple play again turned to serious
pinching.

"Good boy," he said, then stopped.

I leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily.
Carter leaned in, stuck his hand down my gym shorts
and grabbed my jock.  It was only then I realized how
hard I'd gotten.  I thought Carter's touch was going
to make me cum right then and there.

Carter smiled at me.  "You're all wet, boy. You like
this?"

I didn't respond.  I felt completely lost.  The beer
I'd drank seemed to be supercharged.  I was tied up
and half-naked under the control of some kid I'd
known for less than an hour and being blackmailed
into doing... whatever he wanted.  Because of my
build and demeanor I'd always been the one in control
when I went out with a guy.  They seemed to expect it
and I figured that was just how it was supposed to
be.

"Down on your knees boy."

Slap!  I'd paused for a moment too long.

"Now!"

Carter held my shoulders as I eased down onto my
knees.  Carter pulled his gym shorts down and off,
revealing a jockstrap filled to bursting with hard
cock.  He then pulled the jock strap to the side,
precum dangling from the tip of his eight-inch cock
to the fabric of the pouch.

"Suck it, boy," he ordered, grabbing the back of my
head.

I opened my mouth and Carter slid his cock all the
way to the back of my throat in one firm motion.  The
skin on his cock felt like silk on my tongue, the
taste salty.  As the soft, neatly trimmed patch of
dark brown hair above his cock hit my upper lip and
nose I gagged momentarily and Carter was kind enough
to back off-but only for a moment.  He then slid his
cock back in and started slowly fucking my face.

After a few moments he pulled out and put his hand
around his cock, lifting it away from my face.  "Lick
my balls," he ordered.

As I extended my tongue I realized that while I'd
done this before with other men, it had always been
at my choosing.  Here I was, arms tied behind my back
and it was a whole new experience. I fought against
the realization I was enjoying it.

Carter pushed his balls into my face harder so that I
had to lean back against the wall, still on my knees.
Then in one swift move he turned around and planted
his firm smooth bubble butt right in my face.

"Keep licking boy," he ordered, as he pulled the jock
strap and his cheeks apart for access.

I paused a moment too long and felt the pressure of
his smooth ass on my face increase, covering both my
mouth and nose.  I couldn't breathe.  I stuck my
tongue out and started wildly licking at his puckered
hole, unable to break away.  Just as I started to
panic the pressure decreased and I was able to suck
in a breath.

"Good boy," Carter said, soothingly, as he turned
around and placed his cock in front of my mouth.

Without thinking I opened my mouth and leaned
forward, taking his cock to the back of my throat.

"You're going to be a good little slave boy, aren't
you?" Carter said, smiling down at me.

Carter's thrusts picked up in tempo, as he firmly
held the sides of my head.  I could feel his cock
swell with each quickening thrust.  Finally, one long
hard thrust right into the back of my throat.  I
could feel the base of his cock pulse as he came down
my throat.  Only a little made it into my mouth, but
it was incredibly sweet.

"Take it, boy," Carter growled.

He held my head in his groin for a few minutes as I
swallowed all of his load.  His cock never went soft.
He then slowly slid it out.

"Stand up," Carter ordered, grabbing me under my
armpits and helping lift me to my feet.

"Drink this," he said, holding the glass of beer to
my mouth.

I obeyed and swallowed the last of the beer.  Then I
opened my mouth to speak.

"Don't talk," Carter ordered, reaching into a nearby
drawer.  He pulled out a roll of duct tape and peeled
off a long strip, then turned towards me.

"Hey." I started to say.

"Shhh," Carter said, moving my jaw closed then
placing the tape over my mouth.  "You better learn
now that this is how it's going to be when you're
with me.  Tied, fucked, gagged. whatever I want, got
it?"

"Mmmphhh" I answered through the gag.

Carter reached over and twisted my right nipple.
"Good boy.  Now come on."  That said, he grabbed my
cock through my gym shorts and started leading me out
of the kitchen towards a staircase.

He pointed up the stairs and I walked up, Carter
walking behind me holding on to my bound wrists
with one hand, fondling my ass with the other.

I knew right then I was going to be raped but
somehow I wasn't scared.  Was it apprehension or
anticipation?

End Part One