Date: Fri, 6 Aug 2010 23:38:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: Friedrich Craig <fitchboy@att.net>
Subject: Trained By The Best part 5

This is a work of fiction which describes forced sex between
an adult male and a 15yo boy after the boy is given alcohol
and drugged.  If this is offensive to you or if this type of
material is illegal where you life, log Off now and don't
read any further


                     Trained By The Best
                           Part 5


      I got home late Friday Night, more like early Saturday
Morning.  I checked my phone and saw that I had voice mail.
I thought about going to bed and listening to it in the
morning, but decided to listen before I went to bed, after
all, it could be some bitch I met tonight who regret's we
didn't hook up and is just dying to have me fuck her.  I
dialed my voice mail and heard that the message had been
left last night around 9:00.  That killed my fantasy of
pussy waiting for me.  Next I heard that the call came from
my brother's cell.  Why would he call me on a Friday Night?
Mom and Dad were out of town, he should have been out
partying, getting laid, or at least getting his cock sucked.
Then I heard the message, "Dude, call me ASAP, we gotta
talk.  Steve told us everything".
      Steve, Roger's best friend, my former pussy boy, had
told EVERYTHING?  Roger said "Us".  Who other than Roger had
the bastard told what to?  This was not good, Steve spilling
everything now, years after I last fucked the little
bastard, could ruin everything for me.  A few minutes ago I
was pleasantly buzzed and ready to crash.  Now there was no
way I was going to get any sleep, maybe ever again.
      After I left for college, I put everything that
happened between me, Steve and his Dad in my past.  I joined
a Frat & partied my ass off.  Things got a little
uncomfortable while I was a pledge, one of the brother's got
the idea I was a cocksucker and really pushed to "out" me
during hazing.  This dude kept finding ways to get me and my
pledge brothers in situations where we "looked" gay while
taunting me, and only me, about wanting the other pledges
cocks.  I finally managed to get the brother alone and asked
him what I could do to get him off my back.  Turn's out this
loud mouthed `homophobe' was one of the closet cases in the
house.  He told me he'd get off my back if I let him get on
it, just once.  We set up a `date'.
      When I arrived at the appointed time and place, I
found the brother there with a friend, another closet case
in the house.  They promised that one night of them tag
teaming me and they would leave me alone.  I made a good
show of cussing them out.  Told them I'm not a fag (the
truth) and that I'd never sucked Cock, let alone been fucked
(not the truth, but they didn't know that).  That just got
them more excited.  They said they had both wanted to get a
piece of me since I'd Rushed the Frat.  Now, knowing I was
cherry made it even better.  Then they started arguing over
who got to bust into my ass first.
      They decided to play Rock, Paper Scissors to decide.
The winner got to pop my `cherry ass' and the loser would
get the honor of `baptizing' my tonsils with cum (their
choice of words, not mine).  Once the positions were
determined I was told to strip and get down on the floor on
all four.  The winner presented his hard cock to my face
first, explaining that they didn't bring any lube, so I'd
have to get some spit on it before he fucked me.  I started
to lick his cock, getting it wet, and he tried to push in
and fuck my face.  His buddy stopped him, reminding him "the
bitches throat is mine, you get to tear open the other end."
      They took positions in front of and behind me, counted
to three and rammed in at the same time.  I've had bigger
cocks in my ass and down my throat, but they were attacking
fast and furious so it wasn't much of a challenge for me to
play the part of the virgin being raped.  I squirmed and
screamed as best I could while shish-ka-bobbed on two dicks.
They seemed convinced.  They laughed at me and told each
other how I was making it even better for them.  It wasn't
long before they both got off, switched places and started
again.  The guys at poker night were usually good for twice
each.  There were six of them, so I was used to getting
fucked for a good long while.  These two college seniors
really took me for a ride though.  I lost count of how many
times they came in my ass and down my throat.  It went on
all night.  Every now and then one of them would take a
break, downing a beer while the other fucked another load
into my ass, then hop right back in the saddle while the
other half of the tag team watched and had a beer for
himself.  I appreciated the break from face fucking, my jaw
was aching after the first hour or so.
      At one point the fucker on `break' held his beer out
to me and asked if I was thirsty.  Then he laughed and said
it was a stupid question, said there was no way I could be
thirsty with all the cum I'd been drinking.  They both
laughed there asses off over that one.  Then the fucker at
my hole pumped another load into me, pulled out and came
around front.  The fucker on break chugged the last of his
beer, stepped up behind and they both plugged into me again.
They quit when they were exhausted and took me back to the
house.
      My absence had been noticed and some of the brother's
were pissed that I'd left the house during Hell Week.  The
two seniors told everyone to shut up and get over it.  They
were seniors and officer's in the Frat and had the right to
take a pledge out for individual hazing.  Nothing more was
ever said about it, but I think a lot of the brother's
suspected what had been going on all night.
      After that night, hell week wound down, I made it
through and became a Phi Delt.  I went back to partying my
ass off.  I started fucking every pussy I could.  I made
sure my brother's knew about it to.  I managed to `get
caught in the act' several times.  I wanted to let everyone
know that whatever they suspected about my night of
"individual hazing" I was not a fag.  By the time I
graduated I had a reputation as the Frat Stud.  They gave me
a gag award for being the senior who had been caught with
"Prick in Pussy" the most times.
      Now, the past was coming back to haunt me.  My
brother's message had been, ".Steve told us everything". Had
Steve told about everything I did to him; everything His
Father did to me; everything about poker nights? Who,
besides Rog, had Steve told?
      My mind raced back to the beginning of it all.  When I
was 15, a sophomore in high school, My mother came home one
night in the fall from a school open house at the grade
school.  She told me that she had met the father of Roger's
latest best friend.  Roger was in 5th grade, and I didn't
pay any attention to him, or his friends.  I didn't have a
clue what mom was talking about.  She explained that Steve
Jr. and his dad had moved to town during the summer and that
Steve Jr. and Roger were in class together and had become
friends.
      I got impatient and asked what this had to do with me.
Mom explained that "they are alone" and Steve Jr. needed a
babysitter on Friday's.  Mom thought that since Steve Jr.
and Roger were such good friends, I'd be the perfect baby
sitter for Steve Jr.  I couldn't figure out why that made
sense to her, but the idea of earning some money made sense
to me, so I said I'd do it.  Mom made all the arrangements.
      The next Friday, Steve Jr's dad pulled up in our
driveway in a piece of junk car.  Mom had said he wasn't
"well off" and had promised to add to what he could afford
to pay me as long as I didn't tell anybody.  I wasn't
expecting him to be poor though, the car and the house were
both like nothing I'd ever been in before.  I don't know if
squalor was even in my vocabulary back then, but it's the
only word that can describe what I was stepping into.
      When I got to the house and met Steve Jr. he seemed to
know me, but I honestly couldn't remember seeing him before.
I was told I was to have dinner with Steve Jr. (frozen TV
dinners, I decided to try to remember to eat an early dinner
at home from now on) make sure the kid took a bath and then
send him to bed.  Steve Sr. said that when he got home he'd
take me home. Everything went fine; we ate, the kid took his
bath and went to bed then I watched TV till his dad got
home.
      I noticed in the car on the way home that Steve Sr.
smelled sweaty, like he'd been working out and hadn't taken
a shower.  He also smelled like he'd been drinking beer.  I
was curious.  Nothing had been said about where Steve Sr.
was while I was with Steve Jr. so I asked.  He didn't answer
right away, seemed to need to think it over.  After a minute
or two, he told me He'd been playing poker.  He went on to
say he got together with a group of guys to play poker every
Friday, as long as he had a babysitter for "the bastard".  I
was surprised to here someone call their own kid a bastard.
      The next few weeks were the same except I ate dinner
at home before hand and let the kid eat my TV dinner.  He
ate them both, every week and still seemed hungry.  I
started to wonder how much the kid got fed; he was a skinny
little guy.
      Everything changed the day after Thanksgiving.  Steve
Sr. got home a little later than usual and said he thought
he was too drunk to drive me home.  He didn't seem any
different than any other Friday night, but he said the guy's
at poker night had been doing shots of Wild Turkey in honor
of `Turkey Day' and he had barely been able to drive home.
I offered to drive, I did have my permit.  Steve said that
wouldn't work because he couldn't drive himself back home.
Steve said I could stay there on the couch and he would
drive me home in the morning.  I said I should call home and
ask my Mom or Dad to come get me, but Steve said it was too
late to ask them to do that.  Steve then called my house and
told my Mom that I was asleep on his couch, dead to the
world, and he didn't have the heart to wake me up to bring
me home.  Then Steve asked if it was alright for me to spend
the night, promising to bring me home in the morning.  My
Mom agreed to that.
      Steve hung up the phone and went to the kitchen.  He
came back with a bottle of Wild Turkey, two shot glasses and
two cans of beer.  Steve said that since he was home for the
night, he wanted another shot, "or two".  Steve sat down and
poured two shots then opened the beers.  Steve handed me one
of the shot glasses to me, picked up the other one, said
"Happy Turkey Day" and tossed the shot back.  He looked over
at me and motioned for me to do the same, so I put the shot
glass to my mouth, poured the Wild Turkey in and swallowed
it in one Gulp.  It burned and I started coughing.  Steve
handed me one of the beers and told me I needed a chaser.
I'd never had any alcohol before, and I didn't really like
the Wild Turkey at all, but the beer washed the taste out of
my mouth, and I kinda liked how it made me feel, kinda warm
inside.
      After the first shot, I don't think Steve had any more
of the Wild Turkey; he just kept pouring shots for me while
he sipped on his beer.  I don't know how much I drank. Steve
said he would "make a man" out of me and kept the shots
coming.  I was having one good gulp of beer after each shot,
and after a while my beer was empty.  Steve opened another
one for me and kept pouring shots.
      About halfway through the second beer I started to
feel sick.  The next thing I knew I was sitting/lying back
against the back of the couch and I hurled all over myself;
my shirt, pants and shoes were covered.  Steve helped me
into the bathroom and got me stripped out of my clothes.
Even my briefs were wet, so he pulled them off.  Steve said
he would throw my clothes in the wash and took them out to
the kitchen.  When he came back a few minutes later, Steve
didn't have any clothes on either.  He explained that my
puke had gotten all over him, so he threw his clothes in the
machine with mine.  Then Steve gave me a pill and a glass of
water, he told me to take the pill to settle my stomach.  I
took the pill and then Steve and I got in the shower
together because I could barely stand up on my own.
      We weren't in the shower very long before things
started to go all weird for me, I could hear Steve talking
to me and I could feel his soapy hands washing me, but I
couldn't move.  While we were still in the shower, Steve put
my arms over his shoulders and hugged me to him, like we
were dancing.  Then Steve started to wash my ass.  I felt
his soapy hands back there, then I felt him grab my ass
cheeks, one in each hand and pull them apart.  He started
running his fingers up and down my crack, then he started
working the soapy lather into my ass hole.  It hurt, but I
couldn't move.
      Steve kept working the soap in with his fingers, more
than one; two, maybe three, I couldn't tell.  He was talking
into my ear about getting my hole "good and clean".  After a
while, Steve leaned back a little and let go of me, letting
me slide down his front until I was on my knees with my face
lying in his crotch.  Steve chuckled and called me an "eager
little cocksucker".  He said that all he had to do was play
with my pussy some and I was ready to go down on him.  Steve
offered to "help" me.  He tilted my head back, making my jaw
drop open and put the head of his hard cock on my tongue.
He looked down and said, "Don't that look purdy, a hungry
little cocksucker with his mouth hanging open, waiting for
me to fill it.
      The next thing I knew Steve's cock was all the way in
and my nose was buried in hair.  I couldn't move, so Steve
had to fuck my face, and that's just what he did.  He fucked
my face and throat hard, while telling me how good I was
doing and how much he liked having an eager cocksucker go
down on him.  I couldn't do anything.  When he finally
mashed my head up to his groin, stood on his toes and told
me to "suck it out and swallow it down", I thought the
ordeal was over.  I couldn't have been more wrong.
      He had a hard time doing it (Steve isn't a very big
guy, not much bigger than I was back then), but somehow
Steve got me into his bed, flat on my back.  Steve crawled
in on top of me, lifted my legs and pushed them back so that
my knees were on my chest.  He spread my ankles apart and
looked me in the eye and said, "This is why we got your fuck
hole all slick and soapy pussy boy.  You want some cock in
that hole and I like me some nice soapy hole."
      I felt the head of his hard cock up against my hole
for just a second before Steve ripped me open, ramming his
hardon all the way in with one quick motion.  I wanted to
scream, but I couldn't, nothing worked.  Steve just looked
down at me, with his cock buried in my ass and said,
"Sweeeeet.  You got a tight hole bitch, I can't believe a
cock slut like you would still be cherry, but it sure feels
like it.  Did I just pop your cherry slut?  I did didn't I?
Hurt's just so good, doesn't it?
      Once again, Steve started fucking, this time it was my
ass instead of my throat, but it was pretty much the same.
Steve pounded away, longer this time, until he rammed into
me one last time and yelled at me to "milk it out with that
hungry hole".
      After he came in my ass, Steve climbed off of me and
disappeared. It wasn't long before I fell asleep.  When I
woke up I wasn't in the bed, I was on the couch.  I had my
underwear on, the rest of my clothes were on the coffee
table and my shoes were underneath it.  I started to wonder
if I had dreamed everything. I sat up and realized that if
it was all a dream, the dream left my asshole burning and
hurting like hell.
      I got dressed and turned on the TV.  A little while
later Steve Jr. came out of his bedroom and sat down on the
couch with me, we watched cartoons together until Steve Sr.
came out of his room and said, "let's get you home boy".  I
went out and got in the car with him. He backed out of the
drive and headed toward my house.  After a few minutes Steve
asked me how I'd slept.  I just looked at him, I didn't know
what to say.  He was quiet for a minute or two then said to
me, "Think long and hard before you go telling any stories
boy, folks don't tend to believe what they don't want to
hear".


We'll hear the rest of Rob's story in part 6