Date: Sat, 19 Apr 2008 21:12:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: Casey Jordan <sub_casey@yahoo.com>
Subject: Jimmy: Part 1

This story contains sexual exchanges and activities, mostly
semi-nc/reluctant and a lot of it incestuous, between adults and an
under-aged teenager or between teenagers, involving elements of
punishment/torture, bondage, domination/submission, humiliation,
exhibitionism, and lots of hard hot sex with multiple partners. If you
can't bear to read such stuff or if it's illegal for you to do so, please
stop reading right here. Otherwise, enjoy!

This story is about 14-year-old Jimmy who lives alone with his step-father
Harry, a big, bearish, boy-loving bisexual in his 40's. For some reason,
Jimmy seems to bring out the worst in his old man, and as time goes on,
Harry finds more and more perverted ways in which to use and abuse his
step-son, even bringing in his other boy-loving friends, Jimmy's own
school-mates and teachers, the school janitor, and pretty much anyone else
he can think of into the picture. Unlike my other stories, this one is told
from the points-of-view of both Jimmy and Harry.

Comments and suggestions welcome at: sub_casey@yahoo.com.



Jimmy - Part 1: Harry
(M/t, MM/t, oral, anal, nc/reluc, inc, interr)

by Casey



"And when you come home this time, I want you to be real loose. I know
you've got soccer practice today, so that shouldn't be a problem, should
it?"

I grinned to myself as my son pretended not to have heard me as he made his
way to the waiting bus. I was sure that the noise from the engine would
have drowned my voice from the other kids already aboard anyway, but the
humiliation the boy must have felt at the possibility of his friends
hearing what I said was too much to resist. Since they could clearly see me
standing there topless by the open door, I decided to give them a bit of a
show and scratched my balls through my worn out boxers. I knew that some of
them were already fucking my son regularly. They're probably wondering if I
knew about it. I doubt that any of them were bright enough to realize that
I was actually his pimp. One or two of the boys probably liked to be
fucked, too, like my son, though they'd probably more readily admit it. Let
them see this big hairy man with only his boxers on and wonder how it'd
feel to be a helpless putty in my hands.

Jimmy certainly knew how it felt, knew it closely and intimately. It had
been almost a year since I first turned him into a cockslut, ever since I
'caught' him with those adult gay mags. I must tell you that I've had the
hots for him for a long time, ever since I first saw his angelic little
face when Hannah invited me over for our first fuck session, two weeks
before we got married (and two days after I got to know her at some local
bar). I had been eyeing him ever since, though I've never had the
opportunity to do anything about it until the divorce, which took place
barely five months later. We had a fight about some biker type she had been
seeing on my night shifts (like mother like son, I've always said), I
slapped her about pretty hard and the slut (the female one, that is) simply
disappeared the next day. I actually thought she'd come back but she never
did.  Which left me with Jimmy, of course, so I didn't really mind at
all. He cried a lot in those days, but we pulled ourselves together and
managed to get along on our own.

Yeah, Jimmy was my step-son. I probably had actual biological sons living
around somewhere, but I usually left before they got to know me.

I didn't start to fuck the boy straightaway, of course. He was mighty
upset, and messing around with him then would probably have fucked him up
for life (well, the other kind of fucked-upness - I didn't want to be
fucking a vegie for the rest of his life), or worse, got me into
trouble. Instead I started in on him real slow, showing him how much I
loved him and cared for him, convincing him with kind words and skin
contact that all he ever needed in life was me. And every time I held him,
I made sure I touched him more than any normal father would. Sometimes I
would bathe him and lather soap all over him, or undress him for bed (I
convinced him much earlier on that sleeping naked was the best way to stay
healthy), or kiss him on the mouth as I tucked him in. They were little
things that seemed innocent enough for a father to do, albeit somewhat
uncommon on thirteen-year old sons, and it confused him a little, I think,
but overall I think I pretty much nailed the caring single-parent act
perfectly.

Since we're just two boys living alone together, I seldom wore anything
other than just my boxers at home. Sometimes I didn't even bother to have
those on. And of course I encouraged little Jimmy to do the same, though he
never wore less than some sort of baggy shorts. I hated those shorts and
had them burned later (soon after he 'converted'), but at the time I didn't
want to push him too hard. I loved looking at that smooth slim little
pubescent body as the boy moved about the house, just the perfect size for
smothering in my big beefy embrace and for pressing hard into the mattress,
suffocating him in my overpowering manliness. But I didn't want to ruin it
all by acting too soon, and I was nothing if not patient. He was a growing
boy, and I knew what boys at such ages go through. I knew damn well that
pretty soon his hormones would kick in, and that would be the time for me
to act.

I guess my plan to mess with his head worked, as he started to pay more
attention to my naked body around the house. I knew he stole looks -
sometimes very long looks - at my extra large adult cock while I 'slept' in
my room (with the door open, of course) or on the couch. There were a
couple times when I thought his hand moved as if to touch the monstrosity,
but he managed to keep it under control. I didn't bother to tuck away the
adult magazines I leafed through as I leisurely scratched my naked balls in
the mornings, and I knew he went through them when he thought I wasn't
looking. I didn't leave out the mags about the men and boys until later,
however, that might have freaked him out. I never jacked off in front of
him, though. As my cock hardened to its full nine-and-a-half inches at the
photos I would grunt and stand up and make my way to the bathroom. I didn't
tone down on the rough grunts and moans, of course. I wanted his
imagination to run riot, to see me and only me and the way he thought I
would look as I jacked off in every one of his fantasies.

This went on for a couple months, and then, of course, the
coupe-de-grace. I'm not going to give you all the details right now, maybe
later, but suffice to say, I caught him with the homo mags in his school
bag, beat him up rather badly (I think it was my perceived anger more than
the actual beating that really broke him), and then finally gave him what
he wanted.

Well, it was more of what *I* had wanted, but it sure as hell was what he
needed, even if he didn't think he did. It was what all cocksluts
throughout history ever needed in life.

I told him that if he was really into all these gay stuff, that if he
really wanted to feel how it'd be like to have another man's penis up his
ass, he didn't have to look for it with some strangers or have unhealthy
fantasies that would only interfere with his studies. He could simply come
to me and ask for it. His expression turned absolutely horrified at that,
although I couldn't imagine why, as it had obviously been the only thing
he'd been thinking about for months.

"No, daddy, please.. No!!". I could still hear him whimper when I finally
bent him down over the back of the sofa - he was short and small enough for
a kid his age that his feet dangled in the air - and yanked his shorts down
around his knees. He was squirming and twisting as I dropped my own boxers
to the floor. His eyes went real wide at the sight of myraging hard-on, the
awful realisation of his impending inevitable deflowering dawning on him
like a block of concrete sinking into a river. It was a sight I would never
forget.

He was a few months short of fourteen, and a virgin. I didn't use any
lube. I didn't loosen him up first with my fingers. Oh no, I took him dry
and raw. It was almost painful for me, so you could imagine how it felt for
him. I had to keep a hand firmly on his face to avoid my neighbors coming
over to see what all the racket was about.

He was oh so fucking tight. The tightest fuck I've ever had in my life,
even compared to the dozen or so younger kids I screwed before I met him.

I came almost as soon as I got my full length inside Jimmy, such was my
heightened state of arousal (I was so hot for him that the occasional
prostitutes I visited after Hannah left never quite satisfied me). He
should consider himself lucky, for at least the pain ended quickly. After I
took out my softening but still hefty cock out of his busted cherry, I
plopped his sniffling ass down on his back on the sofa, squatted astride
his soft chest with one leg on the floor and told him to lick my baby-maker
clean. He was lousy even for a first-time cocksucker, so I had to grasp him
by the hair and guide him a lot. And not too gently, I fear, for cumming
too quickly always put me in a black mood. But amid the sobbing and crying
and scrunching up of the face in pain he managed to make my cock clean, no
small thanks to me.

Now I know what some of you are going to say, that my cruel and sadistic
ass deserves to be put in jail for that, that what I did was a crime. But
you see, I knew something you don't. I saw how Jimmy looked at me, at my
naked body. Once I pretended to be sleeping on the couch with my eyes half
open (I knew from Hannah's and other previous whores' comments that I
sometimes did that), my snake half- coiled down my beefy hairy right thigh,
and I saw how Jimmy was staring at it. He had this dreamy look on his face,
and his mouth was working itself as if eager to eat my manhood. I saw him
look down, reach into his shorts and slowly pump his little cock (he must
have learned about it in school - it's amazing the number of bad habits you
can pick up at school and still most parents insist that their children
attend them!). My leg twitched in my 'sleep' then, and Jimmy took off as if
he'd seen a ghost. It was funny. His little balls must have shrunk up his
ass.

So amid the wild sobbing and agonized little cries for mercy, I could
actually detect the tell-tale excited quiver in his body, the electric
thrill he felt when I first manhandled him onto that sofa and exposed his
garden of delights to the world. The fuck was painful, no doubt, and he
might have had some misgivings at that point, but by then I already knew
what was good for him more than he did.  Besides, I wanted to make it clear
early on that I didn't want him to go all queer on me - I found those kinds
of boys only good for the first fuck; after that they just got boring. And
when I shoved my shit and slime covered cock - strangely enough there was
very little blood on it - into his face, amid the gagging and the looks of
pure disgust, I could actually feel the effort he put into sucking my dong.
Actual, hollowed-out-cheeks sucking, not the lifeless, forced sucking
effort of a rape victim. He still sucked at it (no pun intended), but he
must have tried his damned inexperienced best. Well, yeah, it could all
have been only my imagination, but I seriously doubt that. Jimmy was a born
cockslut faggot, and I've never been wrong before.

That was almost a year ago. He's now much better at it, even if I say so
myself.  Not surprising since he's got a real good coach in me. He still
cries and pretends to hurt but he's good.

"Sucks like a pro," I told a friend once, before he - who's a tough black
mother- fucker, by the way - came over to try Jimmy out for himself. Oh
yeah, if there was anything I loved as much as fucking my son, it was to
let or better yet watch him get fucked by others.

It was I who, a few weeks after having my close friend and fellow boylover
drop over and sample Jimmy, arranged for him to be fucked by his
schoolmate.

I knew some boys from his school, his seniors by one or two years. They
were in the soccer team, and since the team coach and me were good buddies
from our earlier years in the army, I sometimes came to their games to
watch. I know what you're thinking - the coach wasn't one of 'us',
though. He was a perfectly straight guy with a wife and two kids of his
own. But I did notice that some of the boys behaved somewhat peculiarly at
times. There was this one kid, in particular, who caught my attention. He
was a big guy for his age (which I learned was sixteen), and was obviously
the alpha male of the group. The others were very respectful and
deferential to him, which was normal enough. But I also noticed that one or
two of the kids treated him much more deferentially than the others. Every
time they arrived for practice or for a game, they would be the ones who
prepared all of 'big brother's' stuff for him. They took care to make sure
the coach didn't notice, but I saw one of them tie the big guy's shoes and
re-adjust his shinpads for him during a game a few times. And afterwards,
one or the other would always take those same shoes home, to wash for him,
no doubt. And the big kid would sometimes have his arm around one or the
other, somewhat forcefully and possessively, or steal a pinch on their
bottoms when he thought no one was looking.

It was a familiar scene to me, and it only took half a second for the idea
of introducing my son to the mix to cross my mind.

I told Jimmy about the kid, whose name was Bobby, and I told him to sneak
into the locker room after a game and tell Bobby that he wanted more than
anything to be the waterboy for the team. And I also told him specifically
what to say to Bobby. That he would do anything Bobby wanted him to do,
anything at all, to be granted that privilege. I had no doubt that Bobby
would quickly catch on to the implications at that point. Like me, the jock
would easily recognize a cocksucker when he saw one.

I could tell Jimmy was completely shocked at this. Thus far he had been
fucked by only the two of us, my pervert buddy Sam and me. Molestation at
school had apparently never crossed his naive mind. Which just went to show
how much more he still needed to learn about his new life.

The first time I told him to do this he chickened out, despite knowing full
well the consequences of such disobedience. That first fuck was nothing
compared to the soreness he had to nurse after *that* particular little
spate of rebellion. Credit to him he didn't disappoint me a second
time. Despite what some people might say to us traditionalists, nothing
else could top the miracles a long, hard and savage beating dished out
alternatingly with cane, belt and shoe-soles could accomplish.  What did I
care if Bobby and his team-mates noticed Jimmy had so many welts on his
back and bottom the next day? Bobby should be concerned with one thing and
one thing only, and that is to have a piece of Jimmy's pert little
ass. That second time, I told Jimmy to come back home wearing Bobby's dirty
jockstrap (I didn't permit him to wear any undies ever since that day he
got his cherry busted) and with at least two loads of the teenage jock's
cum in his cunt. I didn't care how he did it - if he failed again, his ass
was toast.

And sure enough, when Jimmy waddled home that evening, when I practically
snatched him by the scruff of the neck right outside the door and dragged
him flailing towards the kitchen table and yanked his pants down, there was
his cute little butt encased in a dirty and smeared oversized jockstrap,
and when I pulled his buns aside to reveal his asscrack, there was his cute
little asshole, winking at me with streamlets of cum spurting out in small
dribbles as in his fright he lost control of his grip on the sore clamping
muscles. I did a double-take on his pants then and saw the seat was
soaked. He must have been leaking steadily the whole bus-ride home. I just
wished I was there to see how Bobby's eyes must have bulged when Jimmy
begged him to cum up his ass. (Later I made the boy tell me the whole
story, and describe to me the shame he felt while asking Bobby for the
favour. After that we did some identity self- reinforcement exercises that
culminated with Jimmy announcing quite loudly to the room that he was a
'cumloving cockhungry boyslut!' and a 'brainless fucktoy who loves to get
his boypussy fucked and plugged by the fat cocks of men and boys!'. Oh
yeah, that kind of thing is very health for a growing young boy like
Jimmy).

"Good boy," I praised him, ecstatic at this new turn of events and barely
able to keep the cool in my voice. In fact, I was so happy that I wasted no
time before tearing off the jock and stuffing as much of it as possible
into Jimmy's mouth while plunging my already raging manhood up the slick,
squishy, used love tunnel that was my boy's new pussy. It was so hot
knowing that soon many, many youngsters were going to be sharing this same
pleasure hole with me. Jimmy would become a public receptacle of a sort, a
distillation of the essences of countless healthy and virile young
boys. When I fucked Jimmy, it would be like fucking a multitude of
teenagers all at one time. So fucking wild. I came after the third
instroke. But there was going to be no easy let off for Jimmy this time. I
kept up the strokes in a leisurely rhythm until my cock grew back to full
hardness, never leaving his used hole, and then proceeded to bang him again
hard and fast. As I knew would happen, it took a deliciously long time
before I finally cummed a second time, my cock spraying more manjuice deep
inside my son's pussy even as he thrashed around with his own release.

Oh yeah, by that time Jimmy could already cum without even touching that
little clit of his. I told you he was a slut.

A few days after that Jimmy was asked to report to the coach's office and
was told that he had been officially selected as the team's waterboy. Bobby
must've never managed to get his little jock head around that one, seeing
as that he never actually talked to the coach about Jimmy asking him for
the post. What neither boy knew, of course, was that neither of them had
anything to do with it. The coach, being my good buddy as he was, gladly
agreed to take Jimmy on the moment I mentioned the idea to him. He
immediately understood how good it would make Jimmy feel to be on the team
despite not having enough talent to make it himself, being the number one
soccer fan that he was. It was so easy to sell the coach that stupid idea
that I almost laughed aloud on the spot. No wonder I was the sergeant and
he was only the lowly private.

All of that was more than five months ago. And Bobby unknowingly stuck to
my plan as if he was there planning it out with me the day I envisioned
it. Within a few weeks he was sharing Jimmy with his closest jock buddies,
and two months on practically everyone on the team - even Bobby's 'slaves'
- were regularly getting a piece of Jimmy's ass.

So you see, when I told Jimmy just now that he'd better be loose when he
got home, I wasn't really asking for the stars, was I?

Why, you ask? Well sometimes I liked him tight, sometimes I liked him
loose. It's really nothing more than a whim to me. I knew it was really
hard for anyone who knew about Jimmy to resist having yet another go at him
- he was hot - so most of the time I didn't mind if he came home with his
hole gaping open.

Of course, at this time, nothing he was fucked with at school could have
made his hole gaping as wide open as the pussy-splitter he entertained at
home. My nine-and- a-half incher (and fully seven around) positively ripped
him apart each time I slammed it into him. Sometimes even I got scared as I
stared down at this massive veiny pole protruding from one end of this
small waif-like figure spread like a delicious sacrifice before me. I would
stare in wonder, transfixed as my pole slowly withdrew, causing Jimmy's
ass-muscles to pulse and tighten in protest. As I pulled out further his
pussy-mouth would sort of 'cave out', the ring collapsing outward as my
cock dragged his guts out by maybe an inch or more. It was like I was
ruining him each time, rearranging his helpless little insides with every
stroke. Sometimes I thought I could see the outline of my cock in him from
the depression marks on his smooth, fair little tummy, or when he had
difficulty breathing I imagined it was because my cock was pushing up the
base of his throat. It was fascinating to see how the easy simple act of
shoving your cock in and out of a boy allowed you to take such total
control over his body and bodily functions.

Oh, yeah. I just remembered about last night. I blew him wide open last
night, first with my cock and then with that huge dildo that dwarfed even
my dick! I could barely feel the walls of his love tunnel when I fucked him
again later, so much so that I had to use my hands to squeeze his ass
together for me to feel any kind of friction at all. His ass-lips must've
been hanging out like a whore's used-up cunt lips this morning; no wonder
he didn't walk right. And here I was telling him to be loose by the time he
got home.

Hold on a second. Let me put on this tape where we double-fucked Jimmy last
week and then I'll get back to you. I love to watch our tapes while Jimmy's
off at school getting his ass raped. Usually I'd jack off very slowly as I
watched the perverted acts I forced Jimmy to do and imagined how he was
being utterly molested and gang- raped at school by those stronger, bigger
bullies.

Ahh, there you go. Look at that cute little face with the huge black cock
stuck halfway down its throat. The thing with Jimmy is, he never looked or
sounded like he enjoyed it, not even after ten months of serious full time
whoring. He was always whimpering in pain, begging to be let go, crying and
sobbing and getting all teary- eyed every time anybody gave it to him
good. Even with his boycunt hanging open like a fucking man-hole, he still
complained of pain, and I'll be damned if he didn't always look
convincing. Even when his little cock shot his boy sperm again and again as
my cock drove his prostate wild, he would cry and try to crawl away and
whimper "No, No... Please don't fuck me, daddy. Please! Please let me go,
daddy. Please stop raping me!"

And no he wasn't shy to use the 'f' word either. In fact, as time went by
he'd started using more and more dirty words in our little father-and-son
sessions. He also seemed to know how to use them in the way that most
pleased me. Now I'm not sure if school taught you that, or maybe those mags
I let him keep weren't the only ones he'd been reading. Or maybe the boy's
just got natural talent. He'd say things like "Oh dad you're ripping my
boycunt!", or "No dad please don't shove that huge cock up my
boypussy!". One thing I'm sure of is that he knew how much those words
turned me on and that he was using them to make me go even rougher on
him. The manipulative slut! And each time he said those words I would, like
any good father, obligingly slam my cock into him that little bit faster
and harder. And he would continue to scream his little screams and beg
desperately for me to stop fucking him, which only made me piston in and
out even faster, which made him cry out more, which made me.. you get the
idea. Every single time I fucked him, his reactions would only make me want
to fuck him more and more savagely.

Which explains why I'm still around. Usually, I didn't fuck the same boys
for long.  The moment they started to enjoy it, when they began to scream
out at me to fuck them and fuck them hard, I would lose interest and
leave. The only boy who I stuck around with for a time was a paper boy back
when I was living in a different state, and that was only because he was so
fucking flirty. He was as queer as they came, and he used to tease me with
his body, bending it this way and that and showing me the good views, all
without seeming to do it deliberately, and always in public, that when he
cried out for me to take him to seventh heaven in our fuck sessions I would
be just as satisfied as if he had screamed in pain. At first we did it
after his rounds but soon we couldn't even wait that long, which left me
with a great deal of extra newspapers and his boss a great many angry
customers. It was also getting tricky for my neighbors to ignore that
half-loaded bike lying discarded on its side on my front lawn till about
noon almost every day. We used to get a kick out of him continuing his
round (the first few times) with his cunt full of my jism and manjuice
leaking onto his bike's seat. But that's another story.

Jimmy, however, was the jackpot. Every time I fucked him it would turn out
as if I was raping him for the first time. Look at that face now, all
screwed up in pain, and those eyes, all wet and teary, and those delicate
hands clawing and grasping at the bedsheets as if all he wanted to do was
get away and huddle up crying in the corner. This, after months of having
been subjected to the same wild fuck by Sam and me. Any other boy would
have his eyes closed, a dreamy fucking smile on his face and his hand on
his cock as their wildest fantasies came true. Not so Jimmy. He insisted to
continue to suffer and in so doing keep it fresh and enjoyable for me. He
should be a role model for all other kids. The kid was an angel.

Oh wow, look at those two huge poles sticking out of that small white
ass. Sometimes you had to wonder, how the hell were such things
possible. Me and Sam's combined girth must've been at least 15 or 16 inches
thick (he's longer and thicker than me!), and to watch that innocent little
hole stretch out to accomodate us was unreal. The skin around the horny
cunt's rim was pulled so taut that it looked pale white and positively
transluscent. His whole ass, firm butts and all, had been transformed into
practically one big hole. Fuck, Jimmy himself was one big hole, since
hardly anything would remain of his small slim body if you took that
asshole away. It was surreal. Nothing even got torn for a while as we
alternated pushing into and pulling out of him, that was until we started
ramming into him together, all 20 by 15 inches of sizzling throbbing
mancock. You see, there could be only one explanation for all of this;
Jimmy was born to be fucked.

Look at those huge cocks ramming in and out of that overstretched
boypussy. Look at how that boyhole was inviting more, one part caving in as
the black monster plowed into it and the other part blowing out as my huge
pole trundled its way out of the used up tunnel, and then again in
reverse. Again and again.

How long has it been? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Man was this boy getting a
workout.  The pain was no longer causing Jimmy to instinctively tighten his
ring, which took away our enjoyment just a little bit, but who could blame
him. His hole was so splayed open already that you could have driven a bus
through it and he wouldn't even bat an eyelid. But wait, we're getting to
my favourite part as the action cuts to.. yeah, this is where Sam and me
rammed in and out together, in tandem, both at the same time.

Oh man, look at that wide open hole completely giving in as we slammed into
him and just blowing wide open as we pulled out up to our dickheads. Jimmy
was certainly feeling it back now and twitching his hole, though we could
hardly feel it anymore, as totally stretched out as he was. We certainly
weren't holding anything back. You hear that? Yup, that's Jimmy alternately
moaning and howling like some injured animal. When he no longer had the
strength to scream, he liked to make this long, low moaning sound - like a
cow would make when it laid down dying. When he becomes like that, I relish
the challenge to see if I could make him howl again with a slightly
different technique or angle or just pure savagery. Like.. that! Do you
hear those howls now, those banshee howls of pure pleasureless pain? That's
the sort of thing I'm talking about, the things that drove us on, men like
Sam and me.

The noise? Oh, not to worry. We were in Sam's studio. It's completely
soundproof.

Now another of my favourite parts. Maybe this time you'll see what I was
talking about, when I said Jimmy was simply irresistable. Sam's holding up
the camera this time. You'll have to forgive him, it's not easy to operate
a video cam and fuck the hell out of a little kid at the same time. Watch
as we focused on Jimmy's upper torso and face. That's me under the kid, as
if you wouldn't have guessed. Look how small he is lying on his back on top
of me. He's like a child in the hands of a mighty god.  Well, ok, maybe he
is a child. Never mind. Look at those white slim arms, delicate and
twig-like compared to my tanned, beefy, weight-trained adult arms as my
iron grips held them up over his head and out of the way. That smooth fair
skin, those soft mounds of under-developed chest and the small pink
nipples. That little head with the cute angelic face shaking at times
crazily and at times limply from side to side as the doe eyes glazed in
painful ecstacy and the eminently kissable mouth parted in bliss and
uttering uncontrollable guttural groans of blissful agony.

I mean, admit it, if a creature like that were to suddenly drop down naked
onto your lap, there is no way in hell that you could have resisted fucking
it.

Sam was right. He once told me that it was simply impossible for any man
not to delight in raping little Jimmy to pieces. Jimmy appealed to that
most basic, carnal desire in men to dominate and demonstrate their
superiority. And yet I kept having this small nagging doubt at the back of
my head that somehow, somewhere, I was being had. Sometimes I thought I
caught glimpses of it, in the way Jimmy's soft blue eyes looked at me as I
pumped my cock into him. There was some kind of challenge in that look, not
the sort that questioned my authority or despised my sadistic desires, but
the sort that said, 'Come on, do your worse. Is that the best you can
do?'. It was like he was challenging me to claim more of him, to conquer
him completely and be all there was for him, to leave no part of his puny
body that I don't take and make mine.  He wanted me to fuck him body and
soul. And the kicker was, it was more of what he wanted, rather than what I
wanted.

So you see, of course it was impossible not to fuck the daylights out of
Jimmy every chance I got.

I'm fucking close to cumming now. Jimmy's only been gone an hour and
already I miss him. I can already see what I would do to him when he comes
home. I would jam my thick fingers into his moaning slutty mouth, forcing
them deep into that pale delicate throat. I would finger and defile every
inch of his cavities, making it clear to him that no single spot on and in
his body is sacred to me. All parts of him shall taste me and shall
remember the rough greed with which I use and abuse them, leaving them
behind a quivering wreck, every single cell in them screaming only for
more. My power over him would be absolute. He would be nothing more than
the helpless, mindless little object of my unbriddled passion.

Ohhhhhh fuck!!