Date: Sun, 30 Aug 2009 19:01:37 -0400
From: stories@nc.rr.com
Subject: Brian's Visit 3

Brian's visit - version 2.0.0 (June-August 2009)
(NC-reluctant, auth, cum denial, humil, feet, extensive drug use, unsafe-sex)

stories@nc.rr.com

DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of FICTION - any similarity to
actual people or events is entirely coincidental.  It contains adult
subject matter and should not be read by any minor, person who would find
such material offensive, or if it is illegal in your area.  If you meet
these conditions, please delete this file from your computer.  This work is
not to be reproduced in any manner without prior approval from the author.

SPOILER ALERT: If you read the original version of this story, you might be
interested in the changes I've made.  If you'd like to read them, scroll to
the end.  If you'd rather be surprised, wait `til you're finished.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Brian's Visit" was my first story on Nifty, originally
posted seven years ago.  Though this version keeps the same plot and
characters, I've made widespread corrections to grammar and text to make
reading easier, such as fixing my bad habit of putting dialogue and
narration in the same paragraph and my apparent inability to use
contractions.  Additionally, Brian's character has been fleshed out a bit
and the last chapter contains new information revealing his motivation for
the events chronicled in this story.  If you were a fan of the original,
don't worry, nothing fundamental to the design changed, but this one should
be easier on the eyes.

Thanks for all your support!


CHAPTER THREE -- THE PARTY

	By now, I'd utterly lost track of the time.  Brian and Tim
continued to talk and bullshit with each other, drinking beer and smoking
weed, ignoring the kneeling boy at their feet, as if they'd forgotten I was
even there.  At some point, I stopped trying to get my cock to soften,
knowing it wasn't going to shrink fully until I was allowed to either go to
bed or cum.  Unfortunately, Brian seemed to possess an uncanny ability to
stop me each time I got close to orgasm and the repeated, intense near
misses had reduced me to a shell of the man I was twelve hours ago.  The
carpet between my legs was covered in slimy prefuck and my obscenely
engorged dick continued to ooze the slippery stuff, even as we just
relaxed, not actively engaged in anything sexual.  I wondered for a moment
how much precum my body could produce, the thought sending a shiver through
me and causing my cock to lurch again, refreshing the damp, slick spot on
my carpet.  Tim would occasionally, and without warning, smear his toes in
the gooey mess and slap my cock with his foot, never doing it more than
once, knowing any more would send my bloated, overly teased dick over the
edge.

	"I wish we had some toys," said Brian, breaking the silence and
causing me to look up at him sheepishly, not understanding exactly what he
meant.

	Apparently, neither did Tim...

	"What the hell are you talking about?"

	"You know, like sex toys," Brian clarified.  "I'm sure our little
friend would love to play for us.  It'd be just like Christmas morning for
him..."

	They laughed sinfully, sending a shudder of apprehension through my
body and another wave of clear juice up the shaft of my waving cock.  What
Tim said next didn't help...

	"Dude, there's an adult video store a couple miles down the highway
from here.  They sell toys.  We could always go get him some."

	"How's that sound, Ricky?" Brian teased.  "You wanna go get
something to play with?  You don't look like you're ready for bed yet."

	He was right about not being ready to sleep, but dead wrong if he
thought I wanted to go to an adult bookstore with him.  However, I knew I'd
need to play this carefully if I wanted to get out of my precarious
situation with even a shred of dignity remaining.

	"I don't think I wanna do that Brian," I complained.

	It was the first time I'd spoken in a long time and my voice
sounded foreign to my ears.  I cursed myself for allowing my tone to be so
submissive, regretting I hadn't made my point more forcefully.

	"Well, I'm not going to drive out there alone.  You'll have to come
too..."

	They both stood and started to get dressed.  I forgot for a moment
about my current circumstances and tried to stand with them, nearly yanking
my balls off in the process.  I rolled onto my side from the sharp
sensation in my scrotum while Tim doubled over laughing.

	"I guess I'll need to take the ropes off," Brian said while
chuckling.  "Don't even think about touching yourself.  If you cum, I'll
beat the living shit outta you."

	At this point, I didn't know whether to believe him or assume the
threat had been made simply for Tim's benefit.  Nevertheless, I was still
thankful as he untied the ropes, allowing me to struggle to my feet and
stretch the cramps from my legs.  He tossed my onionskin shorts in my
direction, instructing me to put them on.  Once they were in place, I was
appalled by how I looked.  My cock was leaking freely into the skimpy, thin
piece of clothing and there was still semi-dried cum all over my face.
Brian grabbed my car keys and told me to get my wallet.

	After running to my bedroom to retrieve it, I returned to the
living room and found them already standing by the door.

	"OK, we're all set," he stated matter-of-factly.  "Let's go..."

	My stomach turned and I felt suddenly queasy.  I couldn't allow
this to happen; I just couldn't go out of the house in this condition.

	"Brian," I struggled to say.  "I can't be seen in public like
this."

	"Why not?" he questioned, as if it was fully natural to go out
wearing only a soggy, tented pair of jogging shorts, already oozing slime
from the spot where my solid cock pressed urgently against it.

	"Well, you can see me," I tried to elaborate.  "I mean, you can see
my dick through the shorts.  Can't I at least have a t-shirt or some
shoes?"

	A quick, particularly cruel slap from Tim answered that question.
I was scared; whether he'd intended it or not, that last slap hurt.

	"...and he was being so well-behaved," Tim laughed.

	"Dude, that had to hurt," Brian observed.  "I don't mind you
slapping him but, Jesus man, be more careful.  If you send him to the
hospital, I'm sure they'll call the police.  Neither of us needs that kinda
trouble..."

	He handed my car keys to Tim and asked for a moment alone with me
before we left.

	"Ricky, I'm sorry about that slap," he quietly apologized.  "I know
that last one was kinda rough.  He even left a mark on your face.  I'll try
to keep it from happening again..."

	Now that I had Brian alone and he seemed a bit friendlier, I
couldn't pass up the opportunity to find out what was happening.

	"What the hell are you doing tonight?  For god's sake, Brian, you
gotta explain what's happening!  Why are you acting this way?"

	"There are two reasons actually," he explained.  "First, you needed
to be taught a lesson about calling people names.  I don't think you'll be
as quick to throw around words like `faggot' anymore, will you?"

	"No, you're right about that," I admitted.  "What's the second
reason?"

	Brian grabbed by still-rigid, slimy erection through the thin
shorts and twisted his fingers along the shaft, milking out more juice and
making my knees buckle.  He leaned in close and whispered in my ear...

	"Because you're enjoying it..."

	He then ushered me to the car and passed me off to Tim, allowing
him to shove me into the backseat.  As soon as we pulled from the drive, I
was worried we'd have an accident.  With Tim in the backseat with me, Brian
was behind the wheel, driving erratically, the combination of weed and beer
having left him in no condition to drive.  More troubling was the
possibility of being stopped by a highway patrolman; since this was a
holiday weekend, they were out in force tonight.

	These worries should have allowed my dick to relax, but Tim wasn't
about to let that happen.  He'd put on his shoes without his socks but had
brought one along for me to suck while we drove to the bookstore.  When I
hesitated, he tied the rank sock around my head, the sweatiest, most foul
smelling section under my nose.  He then used his middle finger to flick
the head of my cock, causing it to rear up inside the shorts and belch a
fresh stream of precum, some of which pushed through the fabric, forming a
glistening bead of slime on the outer side of the material.  He continued
to thump my dick all the way to the video store, by which time I'd ruined
my back seat upholstery.  Not only were the thin shorts soaked through at
the head of my prick, but I was literally sitting in a pool of my own
fluid.  While this went on, Brian reminded me of all the things I'd done
this evening, licking their feet, sucking their uncut cocks, and drinking
their cum and piss.  By the time we arrived, the combination of humiliation
and the painful urge to cum had me on the verge of tears.

	When we arrived at the store, Tim removed the sock from my face and
opened the door for me.  After flicking the head of my cock one last time
and reminding me to bring my wallet, they started walking across the
parking lot to the poorly lit entrance.  Feeling the cool, night air
blowing across my nearly nude body, I stared down at the mess I'd made in
my shorts.  I couldn't go in that store, not dressed like this.  My feet
refused to move and I froze on the spot.

	Brian sensed I wasn't following and turned around, approaching
me...

	"What's the matter, faggot?  Getting cold feet?"

	"Brian," I whispered, "I can't go in there like this..."

	"OK.  You don't have to," he unexpectedly answered.

	I looked at him suspiciously and waited for him to finish his
thought, knowing there was a catch.

	"Just gimme your wallet and we'll go inside and buy what you need.
You can sit in the car and wait `til we get back..."

	Over his shoulder, I noticed a group of three guys about our age
exiting the video store.

	"Thanks, Brian," I said.  "I really appreciate this..."

	After handing over my wallet, I started to get in the car, trying
to sit before the other guys got close enough to see me.  Brian, with
reflexes so quick you'd never have guessed how much weed he'd smoked,
grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him.

	"Oh, no you don't.  In return for my generous offer, you'll sit in
the car naked until we get back.  Hand me the shorts..."

	I stared at him dumbstruck, the fear unmistakable in my eyes.  The
three others were already within earshot.  I didn't move.  Instead of
slapping me, he leaned forward and gently whispered in my ear...

	"You need this to happen, Ricky.  I can read it in your face.
Trust me; I've learned a lot since college and I know what I'm doing.  Now
give me those shorts before you piss me off!"

	Though I still didn't understand precisely what Brian was doing
tonight, his presence was my only source of security, my only remaining
link to reality.  Realizing that being naked with an erection in the middle
of the night, even if strangers could see me, was better than severing this
linkage by being stubborn, I reluctantly lowered the shorts and moved
toward the car.  Grabbing the handle, my bare ass in plain view, I
struggled in vain to open the door.  Looking back at Brian, his malevolent
smirk returned and he dangled my car keys in front of my face.  Mortified,
I saw Tim stop the three guys I'd seen earlier, pointing out my predicament
to them.

	"Shit," yelled one of the new guys, "the frats must be at it
again!"

	"Not at all, Brad," interrupted Brian, "this is just my old college
roommie.  He's just demonstrating some of his new hobbies..."

	He knew them!  The son of a bitch knew these guys!  Standing with
my back to them, shivering from both exposure and fear, I prayed I wouldn't
have to turn around, but somehow realized that's exactly what Brian would
want.

	"Ricky, don't be rude!  Turn around and say `hello' to my
friends..."

	Resistance was not an option.  I was naked, still a little high
from an entire night of smoking weed (not to mention the remnants of the
ecstasy running through my system).  Additionally, I remained hard as a
rock and several miles from home without my keys.

	Slowly, I pivoted on unsteady feet, my knees feeling as though they
could give way any second, fully exposing my rigid, drippy cock to these
strangers.

	"That's it, good boy," Brian cooed as if talking to the family pet,
relishing this display of power.  "I'd like you to meet some old friends of
mine.  This is Brad, Kevin, and Phillip.  I haven't seen them in years..."

	As I slowly raised my eyes to meet theirs, I was greeted with
expressions of contempt mixed with a healthy dose of shock.

	"Uhmm, hi guys," I stammered.  "Good to meet you..."

	Given the circumstances, my greeting sounded ridiculous and I knew
it.  The one Brian had identified as Kevin, a tall, thin guy with scraggly
facial hair, was first to speak...

	"Goddamn, Brian!  What the hell's going on here?"

	"Well, we were hanging out at Ricky's house, letting him suck our
dicks, when he asked if we could go buy him some sex toys.  Since he went
all out for our blowjobs, I kinda felt we owed it to him to help him
out..."

	The last time I disagreed with Brian's recounting of events, I'd
gotten smacked rather hard.  So, instead of correcting him, I just lowered
my eyes and stared at my still bloated cock, waving in the cool night air.

	"It's true, man," offered Tim.  "He even gets into feet!  He licked
all over mine, put `em in his mouth and sucked on my toes, almost blew his
spooge all over the fucking place.  He's hot for it.  I thought I'd tag
along and see what else Brian has planned for him tonight."

	Phillip walked a bit closer and stared down at my cock.

	"Why the fuck is he so hard?  Did you give him something?"

	"No, man -- that's all him.  The bastard can't get enough,"
answered Brian.  "He's been like this for hours now.  I should really go in
and get the toys he asked for..."

	"You're not gonna let him pick `em out?" asked Kevin.

	"He's too embarrassed to go inside the store.  We made a deal that
I'd go for him as long as he stays out here naked until I get back."

	My three new tormentors shook their heads and laughed in disbelief;
that any guy would let himself be used like this was apparently beyond
their ability to comprehend.  I wanted to explain, but knew I'd only get
myself into trouble and, quite frankly, Brian's account of events fit the
evidence far better than the correct version.

	"We'll watch him if you wanna go get his stuff," offered Kevin.
"This is a rough neighborhood.  You wouldn't want anything to happen to
him..."

	Though still high, I was clear-headed enough to recognize feigned
concern when I heard it.

	"Thanks, Kev," answered Brian.  "Come on, Tim.  Let's go..."

	As Brian and Tim walked away, I looked up in fear.  They were
leaving me naked in the parking lot of an adult bookstore with a group of
guys I didn't know!  The three strangers formed a semi-circle around me.
Though their intent was probably to keep me from running, I was actually
thankful for the cover.  With the car behind me and three guys in front, no
one else could get a good look at me.  Phillip reached for my balls.

	"Damn dude!  This looks almost painful," he said as he grabbed at
my nuts and pulled them away from my body, gently at first but with
increasing pressure, rolling the swollen balls between his fingers,
separating them in the sack.

	"What's that all over your face, man?" asked Brad.

	Shit!  I'd already forgotten I still had spooge on my face.

	"It's cum," I answered snappily.  "Brian just told you I gave them
blowjobs..."

	I instantly regretted taking such a confrontational tone.

	"Don't you get a fucking attitude with me, dude!" Brad shot back.

	"Yeah," added Phillip.  "I'd never admit to having cum on my face,
even if it was the truth!  I'd say they spit on me, or raped me or
something.  Shit, I'd be begging to be rescued from those two perverts
while they're gone.  Is that it?  Did they rape you?"

	"No," I shamefully admitted.  "They didn't rape me.  I didn't mean
for this to happen tonight, but it wasn't rape..."

	Phillip yanked my balls down in the sack and my cock performed its
ritual dance, throbbing and dripping from the swollen slit.  A large glob
landed on his wrist.  He must have thought I was cumming, because he
immediately released my nuts and started to yell.

	"What the fuck!  You'd better not shoot your faggot load on me!
Lick that shit off!"

	I had no good options.  As he raised his wrist to my mouth, I
extended my tongue to lick my precum from his wrist.

	"Actually, I think we'll be safer if we make him turn around,"
suggested Kevin.  "That way, if he shoots he'll nut on his car instead of
one of us."

	The others agreed and quickly spun me around, causing my unyielding
dick to slap the cold window of the rear passenger door, leaving a trail of
clear, gooey juice all over the glass.  Feeling their eyes on my body, a
new wave of fear ran through me when I realized I could no longer see what
they were doing.

	"Shit, I don't think I've ever been that turned on before,"
whispered Brad.  "What kinda toys are your buddies in there buying for you,
queerboy?"

	"I'm not sure," I answered truthfully.  I shuddered a bit when I
thought about what kind of things Brian might be charging to my credit
card.

	"Brian said you asked him to come here.  You must know what you
wanted, unless you're calling Brian a liar."

	I was being set up.  If I said Brian was lying, they'd surely tell
him and I couldn't predict what his reaction might be.  So I improvised...

	"I just know he'll pick out something I like," I lied, the
statement leaving a bad taste in my mouth and inadvertently giving credence
to Brian's story.

	"Dude, you must trust him a lot," observed Brad, "letting him pick
out toys for you, not to mention showing off your junk like this.  And all
this shit about licking Tim's feet?  Did you really do that?"

	"Yes Sir."

	I'm not sure where the word "Sir" came from.  These guys were
surely no older than me, in fact, they might have been a few years younger,
but somehow it seemed the right thing to say.  I was mistaken and knew it
as soon as they exploded in laughter.

	"Shit guys, did you hear that?  Fucker called Brad `SIR'!"

	"Hey faggot, has Brian had a crack at your ass yet?" asked Kevin.

	A series of vibrations ran through my cock upon hearing those
words.  What if Brian was planning on taking this further?  What if he
intended to do THAT to me?  Until now, I thought he was simply getting off
on humiliating me, teaching me a lesson, and maybe enjoying a hummer or two
in the process.  Distracted by these thoughts, I took too long to answer
Kevin's question and felt a hard smack across my ass that sent my cock
pushing against the window again, smearing more juice on the glass.

	"Answer me!"

	"No!" I yelped.  "No, they haven't done that to me!"

	"Yeah, but I bet you'd let `em..." he shot back, his tone sounding
almost disappointed.  "Anybody low enough to lick feet and let two guys
empty their nuts on his face would take it up the ass."

	They continued their lewd comments for a few more minutes,
occasionally punctuating one with a mean slap across the ass.  When Brian
and Tim returned, my newest captors walked away, leaving me fully exposed,
and looked in the bag Brian was holding.  I heard a new round of unsettling
laughter as Brad, Kevin, and Phillip examined the merchandise.  Tim finally
broke through the laughter and made an offer...

	"Brian, I may be out of place for suggesting this, and if you don't
wanna share I'll understand, but maybe these guys would like to see the
show Ricky was gonna put on for us tonight.  There's plenty of weed and
beer back at the house.  I say we make it a party!"

	"Fuck yeah!  Good idea, buddy.  What do you say, guys?  I know it's
kinda late, but you can just crash at his place tonight.  We can relax,
smoke some weed, and watch him play.  I'm sure he doesn't mind, do you
Ricky?"

	What could I say?  More than anything else, I just wanted to get
out of this damn parking lot.  At least in my own house I'd feel less
exposed, even if it meant continuing this god-forsaken experience for a few
more hours.

	"No Sir, they can come over if you want..."

	As I heard more laughing and a high-five or two, suddenly the door
was being opened for me.  I was thrust into the back seat and the sock was
once again secured over my mouth.  Brian and Tim both sat in the front this
time, waiting a few seconds for the others to get to their car, apparently
so they could follow us back to my house.  I wondered what the hell had
just happened, what was going on tonight?

	Brian spoke to me only once on the drive home and that was to warn
me not to embarrass him in front of the others, advising me to play along.
He really didn't need to though; my cock had total control of my actions
now.  Despite my reservations, I needed to cum and knew that pleasing him
was the only way to accomplish that tonight.

	After arriving at the house, Brian got out to open the door as Tim
led me inside with his foul sock still tied around my head.  Brad, Kevin,
and Phillip were not far behind.  I was directed to the floor where I'd
previously sat captive, the carpet still slightly damp.

	The guys took seats around the living room while Brian ran to the
kitchen, returning with a round of beer.  He passed them out, even giving
one to me after removing Tim's sock from my mouth.  I appreciated the
drink, as my mouth and throat were bone dry from the ecstasy.

	"Ricky, you can relax for a while," Brian advised.  "Remember, this
is a party.  I want you to have fun too.  You don't have to sit in that
uncomfortable position."

	My mind was spinning, thinking to myself, "there he goes with that
I'm your friend, I'm your enemy, I'm your friend again routine."  He was
becoming more unpredictable with every passing hour.  I changed positions
and sat with my legs crossed on the floor in front of the sofa, my balls
resting in the puddle of precum I'd leaked earlier this evening.

	"Just don't touch your cock," he added.  "You remember the rules,
right?"

	"Yeah, I remember..."

	Actually, I was so thankful to be sitting comfortably that I didn't
care how embarrassing it was to be naked in my own living room in front of
five other guys while being told what I could and could not do.

	Tim grabbed the bong and proceeded to pack a bowl while they
bull-shitted about a variety of things, acting oddly oblivious to my
condition.  We sat for at least an hour, getting more fucked-up and
inebriated by the minute.  I didn't speak unless spoken too; that wasn't a
rule, but it allowed me to hide in a way, reducing my embarrassment.  I
tried to forget about the throbbing in my crotch, but it was like the
proverbial elephant in the room, something everyone noticed, but no one
talked about, and my iron spike of an erection just wouldn't subside.

	As I sat on the floor, it gave me a chance to look over the new
guys more carefully.  Brad was the most clean-cut of the group, blonde and
well shaven, even for this time of day, one of those lucky guys who didn't
need to shave every damn day.  About my height and build, he was wearing a
t-shirt and khaki cargo-shorts with Nike cross-trainers on his feet, the
shoes worn without socks.  His legs were covered with a mat of short,
thick, blonde, curly hairs that looked soft to the touch.

	Kevin was a bit rougher than the other two, almost looking like he
could be related to Tim.  With dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, the
features of his face looked hardened, serious, and he periodically glared
at me, as if he was sizing me up.  I imagined he was wondering how much of
Brian's story was true, did I really want this or was I being manipulated?
Unfortunately, I got the impression he didn't care one way or the other.
Of the three, Kevin was undoubtedly the most ominous and threatening.
Wearing a simple tank top and blue sweats that had been cut-off at the
knee, and his feet were covered with a pair of black, Converse All-Star
high-tops, obviously worn from years of use.  He sat with one arm over the
back of my couch, revealing the mass of thick, black hair sprouting from
his armpit, matted down with sweat.  When he reached for the bong, I
realized he wasn't wearing underwear.  The outline of his cock was clearly
visible through his sweatpants and my own dick lurched at the sight,
silently begging me to touch it.  I berated myself for looking, humiliated
that I was getting aroused.  Brian noticed my cock's sudden, renewed vigor
and grinned at me, but thankfully said nothing.

	Phillip was the first to show the effects of the weed and alcohol,
as he spilled his third beer on himself and my couch (which was looking
more and more like it would need replacing).  He jumped up after the
accident, staggering around as we laughed at his minor drunken mishap.  For
a brief moment, I forgot how uneasy I felt; it was like being at one of our
old college parties.

	"Dude, get outta those wet clothes," Brian instructed.  "I mean,
Ricky's being pretty kind to let us party here tonight.  You shouldn't be
sitting on his good couch in wet jeans..."

	"I guess you're right, man," he slurred.

	Phillip sat his mostly empty beer on the end table and pulled his
shirt over his head, stretching as he did.  My nuts tightened in their
sack, actually clearing the floor for a second when I saw the chest on this
guy, which was at least as well developed as Brian's, possibly more so.
Though he was a redhead, his chest was smooth and firm, without a stray
hair or freckle to be seen.  He'd only been wearing a pair of ragged
flip-flops and he casually kicked those off in my direction as he fumbled
with the button on his jeans.  The others laughed as he staggered around,
trying to pull them off, nearly falling in the process, but I just sat
there mesmerized.  He lowered them over a pair of white jockeys that were
stained in several places, even torn on the right side just underneath the
waistband.  And since they were wet, they left little to the imagination as
to what they contained.  Pulling the jeans over his massive feet, he tossed
them into the corner of the living room along with his t-shirt before
sitting down, his feet coming to rest just a few inches from me.  My cock
started swinging again, prompting Brian and Tim to chuckle at my
predicament.  When I finally regained my composure, Brad was clumsily
packing a new bowl and Brian was raiding my kitchen for what was left of
the beer.

	That's when I noticed a new sensation washing over my body, like
nothing I'd experienced before.  It was almost as if I was outside my own
body, looking down at the activities going on in the living room without
being a participant, unable to focus on the individual events or their
meanings.  I felt nauseous, but just thought I'd finally had too much to
drink.

	Brian's voice tried to shake me from the stupor.

	"You OK, little buddy?"

	I struggled to find the words to answer and squinted, trying to
sort out the collection of double images in the hazy, spinning room.  I
nodded at him, but remembered how he hated that and fought hard to speak.

	"I'm OK, just a little woozy," I eventually managed to say.

	"He's not gonna get sick, is he?" asked Kevin from the couch.  "You
promised us a party!"

	"Nah, I just gave him a little something to relax him," Brian
answered.  "Once he gets used to the feeling, our little boy will be a lot
more obliging."

	From my haze, I detected grins and approving nods from the guys,
but the conversations were growing more distant.  My sensory world was
becoming totally disjointed and I feared for a moment I would black out.
The room was spinning freely and, in an attempt to slow it down, I focused
intently on the first thing I saw, Phillip's enormous feet.  At least a
size thirteen, I couldn't remember seeing such a large pair.  I noticed
small tufts of red hair sprouting from each toe and wondered if they'd
taste the same as Tim's.  I have no idea how long I stared, but heard
laughter when drool ran down my chin.  The spit slid from my jaw and landed
on the taut skin of my cockhead, which was drooling spit of its own on the
carpet.  I wanted to touch those feet in the worst possible way.

	"Shit, he's fucking out of it!" yelled Brad, or maybe it just
seemed like he was yelling; I couldn't tell anymore.

	Noticing movement, I fought to stop staring at Phillip's feet.
Suddenly, I was being turned toward the television.  Brian's muscular frame
was looming above my body.  When he spoke, his voice was gentle,
unexpectedly encouraging.  I actually smiled when I heard it...

	"Ricky, I'm gonna show the guys the video we made with you and Tim.
You know, the one where you sucked the jizz outta his cock.  That is OK,
isn't it?  I mean, you don't mind do you?  I just wanna show my friends
what an excellent dick-licker you are..."

	I was high and being manipulated.  Brian was gonna play the footage
no matter what I said.  He just wanted to make me give permission.  The
drug had slowed my mind, so it felt like my answer took an eternity.
Unable to find the words, I eventually just grinned like an idiot and told
him to go ahead.  Even stranger, part of me was actually looking forward to
seeing the video.

	"See, it's really not so bad when you cooperate, is it?  You're
feeling pretty good now, aren't you Ricky?"

	I looked up as he cupped my chin in his hand and heard myself
slowly moan my answer...

	"Fuck yeah!  Shit, I feel so good..."

	As the video began, Brian disappeared behind me with the rest of
the guys.  I heard a lighter click and smelled cigarette smoke as we
watched the footage of me cleaning Tim's nasty, crud-covered cock and
taking it down my throat.  My own dick was screaming at me to stroke it but
I didn't, not because of the rules, but because the drug had me so fucked
up I could barely move.  Phillip dug his fingers into my shoulders and
pulled me back until I was resting against the sofa between his legs.
Looking down at his feet sent my prick crazy with lust.  It pulsed
uncontrollably with every beat of my heart, basting the shaft and my balls
with a flood of slime.  My pubes were a matted, nasty mass of hair, dried
precum, and the fresh stuff continuing to pour from my dick.  I was aware
of little else while our homemade porno played and if the drugs hadn't made
it so damn difficult to concentrate, I'm sure I could've brought myself off
just from watching.  I couldn't tear my eyes from the lurid images on my
television, of Tim gagging me with his cock, long strands of white spittle
hanging from my mouth as he pumped through my lips.

	Through my fog, I heard Tim speaking...

	"Brian, this is about the place in the video where I shoot.  You'd
better make sure the faggot doesn't lose his nut..."

	"Shit!  You're right, man.  I nearly forgot."

	Brian placed his large hands under my armpits and lifted my limp
body, carrying me to his chair.  He sat me on his leg and directed my
unstable head back toward the television.  As his knee pressed into the
area between my balls and ass, it exaggerated the pressure in my cock,
causing it to swell to a size I'd thought impossible.  He began to bounce
me up and down on his knee, gently at first, sending my cock flopping along
with the rest of me, slinging my juice all over the room.  One large glob
landed squarely in my face and I stuck out my tongue in an attempt to
gather it into my mouth.

	"Damn!  The slut is fucking nasty!" observed Kevin as he watched my
torture with more attention than I liked.

	I was close to a massive orgasm and everyone in the room knew it.
Brian wanted the other guys to see me ride his knee to another violent edge
while I watched myself get hosed down with our pizza guy's cum.  Just as
the recorded footage displayed my face getting painted with salty jizz,
Brian reached around and squeezed my nuts.  They were so slippery that his
fist accidentally slipped on the first attempt, causing me to scream in
pain.  He was a bit more careful the second time and latched on firmly,
pulling them up and away from my body.  Out of the depths of me, I found
words to object...

	"Fuck!  Brian, please let me cum.  You promised it would only be a
couple of hours.  PLEASE!  I'll do anything you want, even after you let me
shoot.  I promise.  Just please, please...let me cum!!!"

	The other guys were staring at us, astonished by my pleadings.  Bit
by bit, their incredulous expressions were replaced by the same wicked grin
I'd seen so often tonight.  At that point, I knew this was far from over.
Somehow, I found the strength to struggle in a futile attempt to get away.
I was far too fucked up, however, and Brian easily restrained me, holding
both arms behind my back with a single one of his own.  I fell into
whimpering as he continued to bronco buck me closer and closer to the edge.

	"Tim," said Brian while holding me secure, "Get the table from the
kitchen and bring it in here.  Brad, you help him.  Put it in the middle of
the room."

	They had some difficulty retrieving it in their drunken condition,
but eventually managed to place my kitchen table in the middle of the
living room.  The table was small, but since I lived alone and seldom had
visitors, it was adequate for my needs.  Brian quickly launched me forward
and I landed stomach down on the flat, wooden surface.

	"Hold him down for a second..." I heard him say.

	Four sets of hands effortlessly restrained my nearly useless body
while I vainly struggled to free myself.  Brian stretched my arms forward
and tied each to the legs of the table before securing my ankles to the
rear posts.  The table was the perfect length to stretch me out tightly,
bent over at a ninety-degree angle, with my head hanging unsupported over
the end closest to the television.  My neglected and stubbornly hard cock
had been caught by the edge of the table and had slipped underneath, now
forced to point directly at the floor as it continued to drip despite the
sudden change in my treatment.

	Brian walked to the front of the table and lifted my head with a
single massive hand.  He was shaking his head at me and speaking in slow,
deliberate words, like a parent would speak to a five-year old child.

	"Now Ricky, you're being very ungrateful.  I made a promise that
I'd show my friends a good time tonight and all you can think about is
yourself.  That's really rather selfish if you ask me, wanting to cut the
party short..."

	Kevin let out a maniacal laugh and was quickly joined by the
others.  They were obviously waiting to find out what would happen next.

	Brian continued...

	"If I remember correctly you promised to put on a little show with
the new toys I bought.  What do you say, guys?  You ready for Ricky's big
performance?"

	The question was answered with a round of raucous comments, every
guy in the room ready to see the newest level of my humiliation.  Brian's
next sentence was actually spoken to Tim, but he made certain I was looking
directly into his eyes as he said it, much slower than was necessary...

	"Tim, get me the bag..."

	A nerve-wracking chorus of lewd comments quickly filled the room as
it suddenly exploded with activity.  As Tim retrieved the bag, the other
three moved to stand near Brian, all of them towering above me, my chin
still firmly held in Brian's hand.  The three new guys were obviously boned
by this point.  In fact, Phillip's worn jockeys could barely contain his
excitement.

	Brian released my head and asked Brad to hold it up for him.
Reaching into the bag, he extracted a device I'd never seen before.  It
consisted of a series of black leather straps, the largest of which looked
like a tiny belt, complete with a buckle.  Dangling from the thickest strap
were two smaller ones with metal rings sewn into the free ends.  He placed
the contraption under my nose and I smelled the fresh leather.

	"Do you know what this is, Ricky?"

	"No, what is it?"

	"It's a ball stretcher, my friend.  You're gonna fucking love this
thing.  You see, this strap buckles around the top of your ball sack and
pushes your nuts down.  Remember the way the rope felt earlier?  Well,
this'll feel almost the same, just a lot more comfortable than the rope.
It'll help keep you from blowing your dicksnot all over the place and I
won't have to constantly monitor you.  Oh, and I bought a bunch of
these..."

	He pulled out a number of objects that looked like the sinkers
fishermen use to keep bait under water.

	"These hook onto the smaller straps and pull your balls lower.  I
bought a bunch of `em and thought we could see how much you can take..."

	I was speechless as he held the devices before my eyes.  His
expression indicated he was pleased at my shock and proud of the control he
had over me.

	"Hey Brad," he asked.  "You wanna do the honors?"

	"No way, dude!  I don't wanna touch his fag balls.  He's been
dripping on `em all night."

	"I'll do it..."

	The voice was Kevin's.  My mind was at once flooded with memories
of the way he'd been staring at me since his arrival.  He took the device
from Brian and was out of sight in a flash.  I felt his hand encircle my
nuts, pulling them lower and lower, before wrapping the leather around the
upper portion of my bag.  I closed my eyes, tensing momentarily when he
tightened and secured the buckle.  He grabbed the loose, dangling straps
and started tugging them gently, causing my cock to drip anew.  An
involuntary moan escaped my lips and Brian smiled when he heard it.

	"Told ya' you'd like it," he gloated.

	"Hey Brian, how `bout some weights," asked Kevin, who was still
bouncing my nuts within their new prison.

	"Well, OK.  But start with the smallest ones in the bag.  They'll
do the trick until he's ready for more.  Guys, I'm serious about trying not
to hurt him..."

	Kevin attached the weights to the free ends of the dangling straps
and gently started them swinging.  Goddamn!  How could I be enjoying this?
Though the pain was relatively mild, the humiliation was extreme.  Here I
was, tied to my own kitchen table, in my own house, by an old college
roommate and four other guys I'd just met tonight, high, horny, and
cum-deprived.  The swinging weights between my legs were causing my bloated
cock to belch continuously.  Just then, my slit opened, allowing what felt
like a river of prefuck to drain from my cock onto the floor below.  I
started moaning again, only mildly aware of the five wolves circling me,
but intensely aware of my need to shoot.

	"Goddamn!" Kevin yelled.  "You guys gotta look at this shit!"

	Brad released my head so quickly it simply flopped forward off the
edge of the table as they joined Kevin.  After opening my eyes, I
discovered I could see underneath from this position.  In fact, I could see
everything, including what the guys had gone to look at.

	Pointing straight down, with its base pressed against the table's
edge, was my obscene, distended cock.  It squirmed as if it had a will of
its own, pulsing due to the internal contractions that had been
intensifying for some time.  The bottom of my scrotum was stretched almost
as far as the head of my inflamed cock, with the two weights undulating in
independent and haphazard patterns.  The most amazing thing, however, was
the long, unbroken thread of precum extending from my glazed cockhead all
the way to the floor, where it gathered on the carpet before soaking in.
The strange prick lurched again and the strand thickened with the added
weight of another bead of slime.  The fresh bead of prejizz descended along
the strand, like dew sliding down a spider's web, never breaking the link
to its source.  Someone jiggled my nuts slightly, apparently just to watch
my tortured cock spit again.

	"Fucking wild, man!" shouted Tim.  "Brian, you gotta get this shit
on video!"

	Brian didn't need to be told twice.  With the camera focused on my
cock, they spent several minutes teasing it, watching it drip between my
bound legs.  I tried to stop looking, but simply could not tear my eyes
from my captive dick.  When they were ready to move on, Brian mounted the
camera on the tripod and the guys assembled by my head.  My former roommate
grabbed my chin, lifting my face so he could talk to me...

	"Don't worry little buddy.  I bought some other toys too, but it's
gonna be a long weekend and we should save some fun for tomorrow.  I'm
gonna make this holiday one to remember.  Now that you're on a slow simmer,
it's time for the rest of us to join the party.  I'm sure you'll help us
out, won't you?"

	A new emotion, one I hadn't felt tonight, began to consume me:
rage.  All I'd wanted was to get reacquainted with my best friend and
roommate from college over an extended, relaxing weekend, but Brian's visit
had now degenerated into a freakish, backroom assault.  I was being used
and decided I wouldn't go freely, especially in front of a live video
camera.  Until now, my cooperation was based on the assumption that Brian
would ultimately let me have an orgasm, or at least explain what he was
doing, but this wasn't going to happen.  Whether it was the drugs, the
alcohol, or my growing resentment, I forgot about the pictures and the
video, I forgot about Brian's unpredictability and my present
vulnerability.  Infuriated and without considering the consequences, I
gathered a large wad of spit in my mouth and launched it upward at Brian's
face!

	A split second later, my face exploded in pain as his open hand
collided violently with my cheek.  This was by far the most intense sting
I'd felt this evening but as badly as it hurt, somehow I knew he'd held
back; if he'd really wanted to hurt me, he would have used his fist.

	"Ungrateful fucking cunt!" he shouted.

	Brian wrenched my head upward, glaring menacingly into my eyes.
Lowering his face to within inches of mine, he pried my mouth open with his
fingers and spit directly into my mouth with such force the glob hit the
back of my throat before descending into my gut.

	"Fucking gross!" yelled Brad as he watched the scene unfold.

	Kevin was somewhat less surprised...

	"Yeah, but the goddamn bitch deserved it.  He spit first..."

	From where he stood, Kevin hurled a foamy wad of his own at my
face, his aim precise.  It hit the bridge of my nose and continued
forcefully upward, streaking across my forehead.

	"Fuck yes!  Hey guys, watch this," said an enthusiastic Tim.

	Positioning himself above me, he tilted his head forward and simply
let the spit slide from his mouth for several seconds, letting it fall on
my face like icing on a cinnamon roll.

	Phillip and Brad backed up somewhat, both laughing hysterically.

	"Hey Brad, think you can hit him from here?" asked Phillip.

	"Fuck yeah!" came Brad's immediate response.

	Tim moved aside to give the guys a clean shot.  Brad cocked his
head and spit hard, but missed my face completely.  The shot landed on my
shoulder with an audible "splat" and slid disgustingly down my useless arm.

	"Dude, your aim sucks!" observed Phillip.  "You gotta hit his face!
Here, do it like this..."

	Phillip inhaled through his nose, creating a loud, rasping sound
from his sinuses before launching his wad.  His aim was dead on, the
horrible projectile hitting me squarely between the eyes.  He and Tim
exchanged a drunken, frat boy hug of congratulations before offering Brad
another attempt.  His second try was more accurate and another slug of
saliva landed on my lips, slid down my chin, and hung precariously for a
few seconds before slipping to the floor.

	"Fuckin-A, man!" yelled Phillip.  "Now that's the way to do it!"

	Brian lowered his face to within inches of mine.  Other than me, he
was only one in the room not laughing...

	"You just fucked up big time, slut!  Nobody pulls that kinda shit
on me!  I've been more than accommodating tonight, letting you satisfy your
curiosity and trying to help you discover what you need.  Hell, so has Tim.
We let you lick our feet, let you taste our piss, and even let you throat
our cocks until you got a stomach full of cum..."

	When he clenched the back of my head, I realized the magnitude of
my error.  Whatever Brian's original motive had been, it was no longer
moderating his actions, no longer providing him with a measure of impulse
control.  He meant every single word of his coming threat.

	"And how do you repay me; by spitting at me?  I'm not a goddamn
idiot, Ricky.  I knew part of you wanted to be our little party pussy and
part of you didn't, so I tried to see that you got a little pleasure
yourself.  But you know what?  I don't fucking care anymore if you have a
good time or not.  It's gonna be a long weekend.  By the end, you'll either
be broken in or just plain broken.  You decide how you wanna play it..."

	He turned toward the four other guys, who'd become ominously silent
while listening to his heated tirade.

	"You guys feel like spending the whole weekend here?"

	Tim was the first to answer, barely containing his enthusiasm.

	"I'm supposed to be delivering pizzas tomorrow.  But dude, I'm
calling in sick for this..."

	Kevin, Brad, and Phillip stared at one another for a few moments,
trying to decide.  I shivered when I noticed the expressions of pure,
demented glee that gradually washed over their faces.  Kevin answered for
the group.

	"We were headed out to the beach for the holiday.  But, you know,
the hotels don't offer the kinda `services' we'd get here..."

	"Yeah, and it'll be a hell of a lot cheaper," added Brad.

	"Well then," Brian said smugly, "...it's settled.  Ricky, you're
gonna get to fag out all weekend with the five of us.  How's that sound?"

	In a single evening, my entire world had come crashing down around
me.  But through the haze of drugs, alcohol, and ever increasing hostility
directed at me, I was nevertheless learning.  Each time I resisted, tried
to stop these events, my efforts resulted in pain.  On the other hand,
during my moments of compliance, when I relaxed and followed orders, I
experienced pleasure.  Though still unwilling to consciously admit I
enjoyed these activities, that emotional struggle could wait; I could sort
the truth out later.  For now, I needed to behave like a rat in a
laboratory experiment; avoid pain, amplify pleasure...

	Nothing else mattered.

	I cleared my throat and spoke...

	"Let's just get started."

	The room filled with the same enthusiastic sounds often heard in a
locker room after a big win.  Tim and Brad ran to the kitchen for another
round of beer while Phillip and Kevin eyed me hungrily.  Brian released my
head and walked to the video camera, removing it from the tripod and
attaching the cables to my television.  Pointing the device at me, he set
it to record.

	"Hold your goddamn head up!" he barked.

	I was shocked at the sight greeting my eyes.  Displayed on my
television, was my own, barely recognizable face, covered in foamy spit,
with a huge, red handprint etched on my cheek.  Underneath the thin,
delicate lines of spittle, one particularly nasty glob was gathering weight
under my chin, hanging by a thread, waiting to join the other fluids
soiling my carpet.

	"Your answer didn't sound very convincing, Ricky.  I might've let
it slide earlier, but that was before your little `incident'.  We have a
right to expect a little more enthusiasm from a guy who's about to have his
dreams come true."

	He let his words hang in the air for a moment while adjusting the
camera until my abused face filled the television screen.  The other guys
were already starting a new round of beer and packing another bowl of weed.
Once Brian was satisfied with the picture, he spoke only a single word...

	"Beg!"

	The chorus of catcalls from the others drowned out my initial,
nearly whispered answer...

	"Please..."

	"Oh, you'll have to do better than that..."

	"Yeah!" added Kevin.  "Come on, bitch!  Tell us what you want."

	He swatted at the weights pulling my balls, sending them swinging,
and providing a disturbing reminder that my cock was still hard.

	"Please," I said a bit louder this time, "I don't know what to
say..."

	"Just tell me what you want to do."

	"I want to cum..."

	"Nope, wrong answer!  You want something else," Brian corrected.
"You learned something about yourself tonight, didn't you?  Earlier, out on
the deck, what did you discover you enjoyed?"

	My head was swimming.  I tried to remember, tried to think clearly
as the drug-induced high swept over me.  When I spoke, the blob of spit
hanging from my chin shook loose and landed on the floor.

	"I liked looking at you naked..."

	"What specifically did you like about that?"

	Thinking back to that moment, I remembered my fascination with
Brian's cock, remembered watching it leisurely swell and throb while the
massive head was still trapped within the confines of his tight, sweaty
foreskin.

	"I liked watching you get hard..."

	The guys behind me tried to contain their laughter, and failed
miserably.  The smell of freshly burning marijuana filled the room again
and the additional contact high only made me dizzier.  The weights hanging
from my balls were jiggled, harder this time, and my cock spasmed from the
sensation.

	"What made that hot for you?"

	"I'd never seen an uncut guy get hard before.  I was curious..."

	"Oh come on, Ricky!  You were more than curious.  When it started
to throb and got all thick, you wanted to do something with it, didn't you?
What was it you wanted to do, that thing you wanted to try?"

	I swallowed hard before answering.

	"I wanted to touch it..."

	"And like a good friend, I let you.  Isn't that right?"

	"Yeah, you let me touch it..."

	"Dude," interrupted Kevin.  "You got him leaking all over the floor
again!  This is fucked up!"

	Even without looking, I knew he was telling the truth.

	"And how was that, Ricky?" Brian continued.  "Did you enjoy
touching my big, uncut dick?"

	My cock lurched aggressively in anticipation of the coming
confession.

	"Yeah, I liked it..."

	I watched my face on the television, feeling as though it was a
stranger making the admission.  For some reason, that comforted me, making
me bolder.

	"What exactly did you like about it?  Describe it for us."

	"I liked the way your foreskin slides up and down, the way it can
still cover the head even when you're hard..."

	"Out on the deck, was there anything else you liked?"

	"I liked the way you smelled..."

	Tim laughed so hard he nearly choked on his beer, spitting it
halfway across the room.  Brian even broke character and grinned smugly
from behind the camera.

	"But you knew I hadn't showered today.  I was sweaty and way past
ripe.  Are you saying you liked that smell, even though I was dirty?"

	I nodded passively.

	"You know I don't like that, Ricky," Brian corrected.  "You've got
a voice so use it..."

	"Yes, I liked the way you smelled.  OK, I liked it..."

	"Tell me, Ricky.  Before this afternoon, did you know a guy's feet
could get you hard?"

	"No, I'd never really thought about it before..."

	"But mine got you hard, didn't they?"

	"Yes..."

	"And your cock started leaking, didn't it?"

	"Yeah, I got really wet.  It might've been the pot though..."

	"Pot doesn't make a guy's dick leak, Ricky.  Now be honest, your
little cock would've started pounding even if you'd been stone cold sober,
wouldn't it?"

	"I wouldn't have done it if I'd been sober..."

	"That's not what I asked," he said calmly.  "Let's just pretend
you'd have done it sober.  Do you think you'd have thrown a rod?"

	"Probably," I reluctantly admitted.

	"What's the best part about my feet?  What did you like the most?"

	"It was the way they smelled..."

	Someone, undoubtedly Kevin, added another set of weights to the
ball stretcher and gently set the device swinging again.

	"I thought so.  If I remember correctly, it's not just my feet that
turn you on.  When Tim got here, you were all over his stinky shoes and
those nasty socks he was wearing, weren't you?"

	"Yeah, I was..."

	"In fact, I think I recall you asking for permission to work on his
big, smelly feet.  Or am I wrong?  We were smoking a lot so maybe I'm
getting the details mixed up.  Is that the way you remember it, Tim?"

	The television screen became a blur for a moment as Brian pivoted
to focus on Tim's face, allowing me to watch him answer the question...

	"That's fucking exactly how it happened, even after I warned him
how bad they smelled.  It shocked the hell outta me, but I thought `What
the fuck, my feet hurt'.  Might as well let the faggot have some fun and
get a massage to boot..."

	"Wait a second!" interrupted Brian.  "I just remembered, didn't you
have to stop touching Tim's feet because you thought you were gonna shoot
your fag wad all over the place?"

	The new, heavier weights were set in motion again and the camera
recorded my expression, a mixture of pleasure and pain.  The contractions
in my groin were becoming more powerful and increasing in frequency.

	"Yes, I had to stop touching them.  I was about to have an
orgasm..."

	"Then it would appear you enjoyed it.  Tell me, whose feet did you
enjoy the most, mine or Tim's?"

	I thought carefully before answering.

	"I liked Tim's better..."

	"Tell us why, Ricky..."

	"I like the shape of his toes, especially his big toes, looking at
them from underneath..."

	"Was there any other reason?"

	"Yes..."

	"What was it?" Brian insisted.  "Be honest..."

	"His feet smelled sweatier than yours..."

	"I see.  Well, back to the whole point of this exercise.  You need
to beg us before we're gonna do anything.  Nobody here wants a sexual
assault charge on their record.  We need to know you want it.  You've
already admitted to a couple things you like.  So why don't you start
begging?  Make it good and you might get something you'll enjoy..."

	Brian was right.  I'd already admitted it, on video no less, with
four other guys listening.  Worse still, every word had been the truth.
There was no point in continuing to resist.

	"Please, Brian.  Please, I wanna lick your feet again.  I'll lick
Tim's feet, too.  Anything you want..."

	"Not anything I want, Ricky.  This needs to be what YOU want..."

	"I want it, PLEASE!  Brian, I'm begging you.  If you don't want
your feet licked, maybe Phillip would let me do his.  God, his feet are so
fucking huge!  I'll do all of you, but please..."

	My voice became a whisper before I finished my thought...

	"...I need it."

	Once I stopped begging, I became aware of the silence that filled
the room.  There were no snickers, no laughing, and no playful, punchy
comments, only a stillness that hung in the air as thick as the smoke from
the bong.  Brian had recorded every moment of my confession, including the
humiliating culmination.  Using the zoom feature on the camera, he filled
the television screen with my disgusting face, making sure the focus had
settled before he broke the silence.

	"No.  I don't think so, no more feet for you tonight.  Maybe later
this weekend, that is if we can find the time..."

	My expression, displayed on the screen, was remarkable.  I appeared
to be, well...disappointed.  Brian looked to the others and spoke...

	"Phillip, you're up first..."

	Phillip positioned himself in front of me, his stained jockeys
tented out impressively.  In an awkward maneuver, he reached through one of
the stretched, gaping leg openings of his rank underwear and pulled his
already pulsing cock and active nuts free, pointing his prick directly at
my mouth.

	"Hold it right there, Phillip," Brian instructed.  "When you moved
into the frame, the damn camera came unfocused.  Gimme a second to fix
it..."

	I could no longer see the television as Phillip's body completely
blocked my view.  What I could see, however, was his engorged and angry
cock staring me in the face.  It emerged from a thick bush of tangled, red
pubes and was laced from top to bottom with heated, bulging veins.  The
shaft tapered slightly as it neared the large, swollen head.  As Brian
adjusted the camera, Phillip gave it a gentle squeeze and pearl of clear
liquid flowed from the open slit, causing me to instinctively open my
mouth.

	"Dude, we're all set," Brian advised.  "Have fun..."

	He slapped my face with his thick cock five times, thoroughly
wetting it with the spit still sticking to my cheeks.  I didn't struggle;
it all seemed so pointless now and soon the large, slimy head was lodged in
my throat.  Phillip didn't fuck my face, at least not at first.  For now,
he just wanted to watch me swallow it.  Securing the back of my head with
one hand, he pushed unhurriedly deeper, never giving back the ground he was
gaining, never retreating, until I smelled the familiar scent of crotch.
The last inch made me gag, causing him to pull out and force it back until
my nose returned to his sweaty bush.  Gagging had caused my mouth to
produce an unbelievable amount of mucus, which ran down both my chin and
the large balls nestled there.

	That's when he started my skullfuck...

	"Hell yeah, just like that," Brian encouraged.  "This is his third
blowjob tonight.  He doesn't need more practice.  Give it to him hard..."

	Phillip wrapped one hand around my neck, at the Adam's apple,
getting off on feeling his cock punch into my tight upper throat.

	"Fuck!" he shouted.  "I can feel it going down!"

	As the other four offered encouragement, Brian filmed yet another
homemade porno with me as resident bitch.  Phillip's harsh throat fuck soon
caused him to reach the point of no return.

	"FUCK!  FUCK!  FUCK!  Goddamnit, he's gonna pull the jizz right
outta my balls.  Shit, here it comes..."

	Holding my head tightly, Phillip slammed into my face once more
before abruptly becoming still.  My throat expanded with each pulse of his
throbbing cock, which was now pumping dicksnot into my throat.  I wasn't
fully prepared for his orgasm and attempted to breathe during one of his
shots, sending spooge down the wrong way and causing me to gag
uncontrollably.  If Phillip cared, he didn't show it; rather, he maintained
his grip on my skull until he was fully spent.  When he finally pulled out
and stepped aside, I caught a glimpse of myself on television, coughing,
wheezing, and spitting up cum.

	"That's fucking nasty, man!" observed Kevin.  "There's a series of
movies like this, `Gag Factor' or something like that.  Brian, you could
make a fortune selling this video, even if it is a dude getting gagged!"

	Brian laughed wickedly in response and zoomed in closer on my face.

	"Yeah, I'm sure there's a market for this kinda shit.  Maybe we
should start a website..."

	"Seriously though," interrupted Phillip, "the fucker can take a
dick.  That was incredible..."

	He wiped the sweat from his forehead and retrieved a beer,
shamelessly leaving his messy cock hanging from the side of his filthy
briefs as he wandered around my living room, dripping remnants of cum and
spit everywhere he went.

	"Who the fuck is next?" he asked while casually taking a sip of
beer.

	"Dude, it's my turn," said Brad.  "I'm so ready for this..."

	Brad had long since removed his t-shirt but was still wearing his
khaki shorts and Nike cross-trainers.  After fumbling with the button on
his shorts, he allowed them to fall to his ankles.  Though his cock wasn't
as long as the other three I'd sucked, it was thicker than any of them,
jutting out from his blonde pubes like an iron poker.  His prior quiet
manner evaporated quickly as he placed his rigid dick near my lips and
grabbed my head, pulling my face upward to stare into his eyes.

	"Listen, fuck-puppet!  I've got a sweet spot on my dick, right
under the slit.  You're gonna stick out your tongue and lick that spot
until I cum.  I'll help you find it, but I'm not gonna do all the work like
Phillip just did.  Your tongue is gonna get me off and I'm not gonna do a
damn thing, you got that?"

	I hesitated.  It was a mistake.

	"Bitch didn't answer me!" he yelled.  "Kevin, give him some more
weights."

	"NO!  I'll do it, Brad.  Kevin, please don't...ahhhghhh"

	More hellish laughter filled the room as Kevin added more weights
to the contraption on my balls and set them swinging between my legs.  I
stuck out my tongue, touching the cockhead in front of me as close to the
spot he described as I could.

	"A little lower, bitch!  Yeah, right there; that's the spot.  Open
your eyes and look so you'll know where it is.  Think you can find it
again?"

	"Yeah..." I groaned.

	"Good, now just keep licking.  If you do it right, I'm sure you can
make me cum like this..."

	As I worked feverishly on Brad's "sweet spot", Kevin kept the ball
weights in constant motion.  The muscles in my crotch were contracting
again and again, trying desperately to initiate my orgasm.  Meanwhile,
Brad's cock was beginning to seep freely from the slit.  The spot he wanted
me to tease was underneath the opening where his juice escaped, so every
drop flowed directly onto my tongue.  His prick began to jump around,
almost leaping away from me.  It would pulse up, away from my tongue, and
I'd have to find the spot all over again.  Once more, my view of the
television was obscured, but from the comments I was hearing, it must have
been a sight.

	"Shit, the fucker is really getting into it!"

	"I know it.  I've never seen anybody this into cock."

	"Guys, this dude's got mad skills," added Brad.

	This odd method of giving oral sex was taking far longer than the
typical blowjob.  Still, I knew better than to stop.  Despite my fatigue
and a growing cramp in my neck, I obediently continued the tongue job he
was so obviously enjoying.

	"OK, you're getting me close.  When I shoot, just keep tonguing
that same spot.  Don't stop until I pull my dick away from your mouth..."

	Hoping to speed this exercise along, I increased the tempo, wildly
flicking the tip of my tongue over his highly sensitive "spot".  It worked
incredibly well and he was soon approaching orgasm...

	"Oh God, here it comes, keep doing that.  Yeah, just like that..."

	His cock was bouncing around rebelliously now, requiring a lot of
effort to keep my tongue in the right place.

	"Yeah fucker, I can feel it coming.  Get ready.  Don't stop..."

	His cock shuddered violently and, with nothing to hold it steady,
pulled away from my tongue, pointing almost straight up.  My eyes, which
were no more than three inches from the leaky head, witnessed the slit open
before slinging a massive eruption of thick, white cum clear over my head.
Something searing hot landed on my ass and I knew Brad's cum had not only
shot over my head, but arced high enough to clear my back as well, landing
just above the crack of my ass and sliding into the crevice between my
cheeks.

	"Jesus fucking Christ!" yelled Tim, obviously astonished.  "Brian,
please tell me you got that on the video!"

	"I lost the top of the arc, but his ass was in the frame when it
landed."

	The energy of that first shot caused a rebound effect, forcing
Brad's dick to swing back down, where my tongue once again flicked his
sweet spot.  Surging again, it spewed the second shot right into my mouth.
The third slung a wad of gooey semen up my forehead, where it ran down into
my left eye, stinging like a motherfucker.  Still, I kept my tongue
working, wringing out three more healthy blasts from the cock thrashing in
front of my mouth.  By the time Brad finished and backed away, my face was
covered with his dickslime.

	"Hell fucking YES!" he screamed.  "If my girl could do that, I'd
never leave her apartment..."

	Brad was already walking away, allowing me to see the thick goo
deposited on my sticky face.  For a moment, I zoned out watching the
strange, warped image of myself on the television, and only half heard Tim
talking to Kevin.

	"I know I've already had a turn tonight, but do you mind if I go
next?"

	"Be my guest, man," answered Kevin.  "I can wait..."

	"Hold up," interrupted Brian.  "I wanna get a shot of something..."

	Brian took the camera and moved behind me.  Since I could no longer
see him, I looked at the television instead.  After a few shaky, unfocused
images, the picture cleared.  He was recording footage of my ass!

	"Tim, grab his ass cheeks and pull `em apart..."

	Mortified, I watched Tim spread my ass wide and saw the huge, first
shot of jizz Brad had slung over my head, sliding slowly down the cleft of
my cheeks.  The wad stopped momentarily, gathering in the slight depression
of my asshole, before its weight forced it lower, sliding over the leather
strap confining my nuts, and slipping off the weights below.

	"Mother-FUCK!" yelled Tim.  "That's the nastiest thing yet!  Hey
faggot, you got cum dripping outta your ass and you ain't even been fucked
yet!"

	On the screen, I saw a finger emerge and inch toward my hole.  I
think it was Kevin's, but I can't be sure.  It gathered a bit of the juice
still clinging to my anus and pushed in, taking the white glob with it.  He
didn't push in far, actually just up to the first joint, but the sensation
set off a reaction in my body that was not lost on anyone present.  I
started moaning and bucking my hips passionately.  I needed to cum and this
felt like my moment.  I pushed back on the invading finger as far as my
limited mobility would allow, determined to get myself off.  Kevin
immediately recognized what I was attempting, however, and withdrew his
finger, leaving me groaning like a bitch in heat.  Familiar voices laughed
cruelly as Brian rewound the footage and we watched my brief finger fuck
several times in rapid succession.

	"Please guys," I begged.  "I'm doing what you wanted.  Please,
please just let me cum!"

	I was nearly hysterical with lust, the muscles between my legs
cramping from the repeated contractions.  Brian was not amused with my
pleadings...

	"Tim, go shut the faggot up..."

	Tim instantly filled my mouth with his nasty, uncut cock for the
second time that night.  Horny and ready to nut, he fucked my mouth
ferociously, and emptied another load of cum inside barely before we'd
built up a good rhythm.  When he extracted his cock, it dragged several
disgusting strands of spit and cum along with it, the foamy filaments
connecting the tip of his prick to my lips.  Brian enthusiastically filmed
a close up of the slimy fluids while I gasped urgently for air.

	"Fucking-A!" Tim yelled.  "I gotta tell ya, dudes.  I think he's
actually getting better.  That was fucking hot!"

	Slapping his cock against my face, he caused the cum-spit bridge to
break and hang in a loop, dangling from my lower lip.  If possible, I
looked even sluttier than before.  It was the kind of image you'd find on
the cover of a hardcore pornographic DVD.

	"You're up, Kevin!" he advised.  "Thanks again for letting me break
in line..."

	When Kevin moved into position, I noticed his tank top was gone,
but he was still wearing his cut-off sweats, looking every bit as
intimidating as I remembered from earlier.

	"If I understood your little `confessional' correctly, you like
uncut cock.  Is that right, faggot?"

	When I opened my mouth to speak, all I managed to do was blow a
bubble of cum and spit from my lips, causing my living room to explode with
laughter yet again.  Using my tongue, I cleared the area so I could answer
him...

	"Yes," I replied meekly.

	"Then you're gonna fucking love this one, dude."

	Just when I thought I couldn't feel like more of a whore, Kevin
began to slowly lower his sweatpants.  He was unmistakably teasing me,
making me wait for it and my prick dripped again in anticipation.  When his
cock eventually cleared the waistband, I let out an audible gasp; it was
the most amazing penis I'd ever seen and it wasn't even hard, dwarfing the
throbbing dick between my legs.  But the size was not the only notable
feature.  His cock was simply beautiful, with a foreskin so long that over
an inch hung limply past the bulge demarcating his crown.  A silvery strand
of precum dangled from the bunched up folds at the tip of skin as he slid
the sweats over his feet.  While I stared, enthralled by his piece, he
unlaced his foul, canvas All-Stars and slid them off as well, placing one
sweaty shoe on either side of my head.  He then stood back to simply let me
drink in the sight of him.  The smell of his sneakers, combined with the
drugs and the intensity of my own hunger got the better of me.  Brian
sensed it and adjusted the camera to zoom in on my face as I prepared to
let go, to leave no doubt in anyone's mind that I wanted this cock...

	"I need it..." I whispered.

	"What did you say to me, faggot?"

	I cleared my throat to speak more plainly, no longer caring that
the video camera was directed at my face, recording this genuine admission
of desire.

	"I need it..." I repeated, louder this time.

	"Damn!  That's what I thought you said," he answered as he
leisurely slid his hand up and down the length of it, causing the dangling
strand of glistening precum to increase in length by at least two inches.

	"I wanna taste it," I brazenly moaned, knowing I'd have to deal
with the consequences of admission later.

	"Wow!  That sounded kinda trashy, dude," he teased.  "What if I
don't like my bitches as slutty as you?"

	"Kevin, I'll do whatever you want," I said without taking my eyes
off his cock.  "I'll act anyway you want me to act, just please let me
taste it..."

	The room instantly fell silent.  I knew my last comment had
surprised everyone, except for maybe Brian.  Fuck!  I'd even surprised
myself with those words.  I heard Tim's voice after a few awkward
seconds...

	"D-U-D-E," he whispered tortuously slow.  "He really meant it that
time..."

	Brian quickly raised a finger to his lips to signal to the others
not to speak, almost as if he was afraid their banter would break the
spell.  Kevin continued...

	"You want what's about to come outta this dick?  Is that it?  You
want me to fill your mouth up?"

	"YES!  Fuck yes!  I want it.  Please Kevin, let me have it..."

	The pent up emotions within me came flooding out at once, my
desperate pleadings all caught by the camera in Brian's hands.

	"Well, just remember," Kevin said softly, "you begged for it..."

	He inched forward, placing his still soft cock within an inch of my
open, waiting mouth, before stopping unexpectedly.  I remained motionless,
hoping he'd put it inside me, hoping he'd let me suck it and run my tongue
under his hood of skin, hoping he'd let me experience the taste of it.
Instead, he just stood, leaving me unfilled...until the first, warm stream
of his piss rushed out.

	Brian was ecstatic, scrambling to capture this disgusting scene
with the camera.

	"Kevin, you're a fucking pro, dude!"

	Now that the first jet of hot piss entering my mouth had been
caught on camera, Kevin felt free to push his soft, still-gushing prick
inside my mouth.  I immediately formed a seal around it and began to
swallow.  He had caught me off-guard, but at that moment, I needed the cock
in front of me, no matter what kind of fluid he was slinging.  Reaching
down, he used one hand to pinch off my nose, cutting off my air supply.
Still, I continued to sip from his cock until the piss was coming in short
spurts he was obviously forcing from his bladder.  Once he was empty, he
extracted his cock and allowed Brian to film my still open mouth struggling
to pull it back inside.  When he took another step backward, I thought I
would lose my mind...

	"Kevin, please let me suck it!" I begged pathetically.

	"Sorry, dude," he replied.  "Blowjobs just aren't my thing.  Don't
worry though; I'll fuck you later this weekend once Brian decides you're
ready.  But that's all you're gonna get for now..."

	I screamed like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum as he pulled
his sweats back up to his waist.

	"No fucking way!  Please Kevin, GODDAMNIT!  Please let me suck it!"

	Brian approached me quickly.  A hard slap to the face sent piss,
cum, and dangling spit flying off in all directions and instantly shut me
up, bringing me back to reality.  His unspoken message was clear; I was not
in control here.

	"Hey Brian," interrupted Tim.  "You gonna let him shoot tonight?  I
mean, his dick is starting to look a little painful."

	"Hell no!" came the response I expected.  "He'll be a lot more
cooperative tomorrow if he's still all strung out..."

	He turned off the video camera and placed it on the floor near his
feet before bringing this nightmarish evening to an end.

	"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat.  Ricky's got a
nice house.  Make yourselves at home.  Find a place to crash and get some
good rest.  Leave the master bedroom for me and Ricky.  It's gonna be an
awesome weekend!"

	As the guys wandered through my house, each looking for a place to
sleep, Brian knelt by the table and began to untie my arms and legs.  Once
they were free, he reached for my nuts and carefully unbuckled the device
binding them, speaking softly as he worked...

	"I'm proud of you, Ricky.  Well, except for that unpleasant little
spitting episode.  All in all, tonight was a success.  You're well on your
way..."

	"I'm on my way to what?" I asked, genuinely confused.

	"By the end of the weekend, you're gonna be my bitch," he said
plainly.  "I mean, you were gonna let me stay here until I got on my feet
anyway.  Now I'm thinking about a more `permanent' arrangement.  Believe
me, by Monday evening, you'll want me to stay forever.  Do you think you
can walk to the bedroom?"

	"Yeah, I can make it..." I answered.

	Despite my assertion that I could walk, my legs were weak and I
needed his support to reach the bedroom.  Once we were both comfortably in
bed, and before sleep overtook me, I dared to speak again...

	"Brian, I don't wanna be your...well, that thing you said..."

	"The weekend's not over, dude.  Get some sleep.  I've got a lot
planned for tomorrow and neither of us will enjoy it as much if you're not
rested..."

	Even in the face of that ominous statement, I was sleeping soundly
less than a minute later.


Thanks for all the encouragement!  Keep reading!