Chapter 174 - STRAIGHT AND BOUND PART 4: CURT (CHAPTERS 3

Curt's main guard, referred to by the Facility workers as the "Big Sam.o.a.n" grew l.u.s.tful every time he saw Curt and his classic v-shaped lean muscled college wrestler torso, his meaty perfect pecs, t.h.i.g.hs and legs. It was also the straight boy's long lashed green eyes that was the envy of many a girl, and his thick brown hair, capping his narrow head, with a perfect nose and mouth, s.e.xy wispy treasure trail and the manly nest of curly pubes and armpit hair.

To the Big Sam.o.a.n and the other guarding and tormenting Curt, their handsome captive, for all his boyish youthful good looks and smooth physique, was a virile man's man that naturally attracted intense d.e.s.i.r.e from women of all ages - and envy from many men.

The Big Sam.o.a.n realized a few days after Curt's abduction that he was becoming obsessed with the youth. He felt an overwhelming intense e.r.o.t.i.c feeling the first moment he saw the boy's sculptured backside as the back of his sweaty t-shirt hiked up exposing his tanned skin and waist band of his boxer b.r.i.e.f.s as they dragged and then carried him from the van when he first arrived at the Facility. He felt it when he carried the struggling boy on his shoulder, hearing his enraged youthful cursing, feeling his tight muscled body and inhaling his straight boy scent, feeling his muscled twisting body grinding into his shoulders and arms like a reluctant lover.

All of their straight boy victims were handsome, some with model looks and others with the "boy-next-door" type looks that wouldn't turn all heads in a room, but still possessed attractive features that many d.e.s.i.r.ed to see react to being tied down, edged against their will, whipped and f.u.c.k.e.d. All of their captives had good or decent builds, though differing in the amount of muscle and definition. Some boys were the product of gym training and others the result of natural workout or a lean twink look that had natural definition.

Curt, to the Big Sam.o.a.n and others at the Facility, was in a special category with a build and definition that was both natural and developed in the gym. To them, Curt's gym workout only built upon what he already had naturally, building perfect tone and chiseled Greek statute-like definition to each muscle that didn't seem narcissistic, but rather a celebration of the perfect Adonis.

No matter the differences in build and handsome looks, all of their captive boys had c.o.c.ks, balls, armpits, necks, torsos, sides, t.h.i.g.hs, legs, feet, shoulders, backs and b.u.t.t cheeks and assholes that were s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to touch and tongue, and reacted wildly to being tickled. All of them.

Except one.

The Big Sam.o.a.n smiled to himself, rubbing his massive junk, remembering that boy.

His name was Josh, a handsome naturally muscled 23 year old straight surfer boy with dirty blonde slightly long hair on the top with buzz cut sides who they abducted after he was headed alone to his car on a deserted beach. He didn't pay attention to the here guys in a van parked next to his beat up 15 year old pickup, nor the large truck with three other guys, parked three spaces on the other side. There were always people parked at this beach watching the waves, smoking weed or to walk on the dunes. He wondered briefly why they would be here so late - everyone else had left hours earlier and this was the first time he could recall that anyone would show up now, with the overcast and winds kicking up as the sun was going down. But he dismissed them from his mind, as he always did to anyone he saw.

Dripping wet, he got to his pickup, opening the driver's door and reached in for a large towel on the seat to dry off his hair and face. He left the door open to give him some privacy to quickly change, unzipping and slipping off his tight body suit. Totally n.a.k.e.d, his long limp cut d.i.c.k and balls dangling from his dirty blond pubes, he noticed the three guys in the truck three spaces staring at him. He forgot that they were there. The pickup truck door only blocked any view of his n.a.k.e.dness from someone on the beach. They didn't seem offended and Josh didn't get the impression that their stare had any s.e.x.u.a.l connotation but rather simple surprise that a guy was stripping n.a.k.e.d in public. Well, Josh thought, surfers do that all the time after surfing and getting their wet suits off. Josh simply nodded his head acknowledging them, as they did in return and then turned their gaze back toward the ocean.

Josh quickly dismissed them from his mind and attention as he always did to others around him that he didn't consider important or of interest. He quickly slipped on boxer shorts and then board shorts that he left inside his pickup, deciding to not put on a t-shirt, though the cold bl.u.s.tery winds were picking up now, making his the quarter sized n.i.p.p.l.es on his muscled meaty pecs hard. He liked the feel of the cold wind on his body now that he had dried off, refreshing him. He preferred to go shirtless as much as possible feeling constrained wearing shirts of any kind. Going shirtless most of the day, especially in the summer, gave his body a naturally deep tan that added to his surfer boy good looks.

Plugging earphones from his I-Phone and now listening to music, he let his guard down completely, never thinking for a moment he was in any danger. Barefoot, he went to the back of his pickup where his board was leaned against, noticing the guys in the van parked next to him on the other side now out, looking toward the ocean, as if ready to walk on the beach despite the winds. Josh, earphones blocking off any other sound, nodded a wordless greeting to them which they returned, but otherwise ignored him. Moving his head to the rhythm of the music blasting through is earphones, Josh bent over to put his surf board in the back of his pickup.

Suddenly he felt a damp cloth covered hand cover his face, with large hairy arms and hands holding his struggling muscled body tight, two fingers pinching his right n.i.p.p.l.e hard, that caused Josh to gasp in pain, inhaling even more of the fumes until he blacked out.

The surfer boy was tied up and tossed in the van, and taken to the Facility. There he was tied spread-eagle tied to a bed like frame. As he came to, he cursed and yelled at his captors, struggling like a wild animal. Already shirtless, they admired with hungry eyes Josh's mounded pecs centered by salmon colored n.i.p.p.l.es, his smooth torso and 6 pack abs as he cursed at them. As Josh struggled furiously, his muscled body sweated, and though not hard, the bulge in front of his board shorts seem to grow as the cloth and u.n.d.e.r.w.e.a.r bunched up as he tried to twist and turn his body. Without warning, dozens of hands ripped off his board shorts and then his boxer shorts as. Josh yelled and cursed even louder.

The boy was defiant and resisted initial attempts to arouse him, though after an hour and a half of non-stop slow edging of his c.o.c.k and sensual attacks on his helpless body, his 7 inch prick finally grew from limp to semi-hard to full scale steel pole erection. After another half hour of intense unwanted forced edging, the straight youth, to his shock and dismay, shot off a massive load.

"You sick f.u.c.ks!!!! Faggots!!! Let me go. You f.u.c.kin had your fun let me go NOW!!!" he yelled at them, more enraged them before, disturbed though he tried to hide it, that other guys could get his d.i.c.k boned hard and shoot.

But this boy was a rare exception with no appreciable reaction to post o.r.g.a.s.m stroking or rubbing of his c.o.c.khead or shaft - and no reaction, at first to attempts to tickle his feet or pits or sides. He glared back at his tormentors, cursing them, spitting at them. His non-reaction was simply a product of how long it took for his skin and body reacted to touch, even by girls.

He was immune to any of their many attempts to tickling. It wasn't his constant defiance that angered his tormentors but his lack of response or reaction to their fingers, hands and tongues that seemed to them in part his natural body response. But in large part they saw it as simply sheer willful arrogant defiance and hatred of being touched in any way by guys - especially by what he saw as pervert faggots. That lack of response, for whatever reasons, came across as an act of sheer defiance to their will, and that fueled their collective anger with the single focus of crushing it.

They would make the boy pay terribly for that and because of the extra time it took for them to finally unlock the door to his body's weaknesses to tickling and to post-o.r.g.a.s.m tormenting. Until that happened, it seemed to them - and to Josh - that the captive youth was somehow in control, even if he was bound and at their mercy. After several more hours, into the next day, they carefully planned repeated attempts they finally broke down the boy's bravado and defenses to reacting to the tickling as they knew they would. It started slow - almost sensual touching.

Nothing in his previous experiences prepared him for a prolonged endless attack on his body. He assumed their touching and fondling would last but a few minutes - 10 minutes tops before they got bored when he didn't react. But they kept on and on and on and on until finally he broke.

The boy glared at his tormentors spouting off mindless threats and curses as his body slightly quivered, then several minutes later, trembled visibly from the touching - the first little sign that his sad defenses were crumbling. Josh wasn't counting on their unrelenting attack on his body - he thought he could out last them. And after shooting his first load against his well and showing no reaction from the rubbing on his d.i.c.k after wards, he thought he did outlast them. And then it continued. On and on.

And the boy - nearing the hour mark, slowly began to panic. My god - they weren't going to stop.

Two and then three hours later, feathery fingers up and down his a.s.s crack, and up and down his spine. Light touches along his sides. L.i.c.k.i.n.g and light s.u.c.k.i.n.g of his toes and pits, and his tormentors, edged and milked out a second massive load from the surfer boy, as he cursed them and struggled even harder to break free. That second load was the key in unlocking his resistance to post o.r.g.a.s.m tormenting and tickling.

As the stroking and rubbing of his c.o.c.k head continued after shooting his huge second loan of straight boy spooge, his body jerked and then buckled involuntarily as his handsome face grimaced in a hideous frown as if in pain. He clenched his teeth, his fists closed tight and toes curled as he tried in vain not to react - but now the overpowering unbearable sensation of having his knob rubbed after shooting his second load was getting to him. He almost never f.u.c.k.e.d a girl more than once in a night - so he never experienced before this sensation that for his body, was only triggered by a second o.r.g.a.s.m. Now all the sensations he would feel - to his horror.

His tormentors continued the agonizing c.o.c.k polishing as his body grew taut and he finally shrieked for them to stop. But they kept on as they also began a slow relentless sensual ticklish touching, with his shrieking mixed with giggling, coughing and then clenched laughter that he tried desperately to hold back. Another 10 minutes his face was a picture of sheer agony and every few seconds a train of m.o.a.ns, giggles and then growing panting laughter would burst out, though he still tried to hold it in. But his tormentors knew they were seconds away from overcoming any resistance and defiance as dozens of fingers, hands and tongues assaulted his body everywhere, focusing on his toes, soles of his two feet, armpits, sides, ears and neck. The attack was too much for Josh now. He exploded into hysterical pure masculine howling laughing and then after he realized they would not stop as the tickling intensified, his voice quivered and m.o.a.n.e.d, into pure high pitched screams. As he panted and tried to catch his breath, his body thrashing, he pleaded angrily for them to stop and when they just continued their relentless attack, was reduced to pathetic begging.

But they showed absolutely no mercy to Josh once they finally found how to get him to react, He started to gasp when fingers touched and tickled his large nut sack that now was extremely s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e. And then the tickle torture and post o.r.g.a.s.m attack on the boy intensified like no other attack on a previous boy - or since. Every part of his body. No breaks - just endless tickling as far as he knew because they only stopped when he passed out. Once revived, they resumed with a vengeance until he passed out or tired from the sensation. They simply revived him or waited to the exact moment the sensations returned.

And they always did. No mercy on that boy, the Big Sam.o.a.n remembered which seemed to fuel their own l.u.s.t to assault him.

They even brought the boy totally bound and gagged to a biker bar 70 miles away, and offered his exposed pits, stomach, sides, balls and c.o.c.k, t.h.i.g.hs and feet to the over 100 bikers inside. The roar of excitement greeted them - and Josh was covered totally by clawing tickling hands, fingers, tongues on every part of his body - especially his pits and feet and soles. They lined up to tickle him without mercy and let up for two hours as he shrieked and screamed.

It was there the Facility decided the boy would be f.u.c.k.e.d and f.u.c.k.e.d hard. The Big Sam.o.a.n was given the honors to break the boy's v.i.r.g.i.n tight a.s.s - followed by anyone else in the biker bar.

The Big Sam.o.a.n remembered, l.i.c.k.i.n.g his lips, how tight Josh's surfer boy asshole, with a halo of soft curly dirty blondish hairs dusting his a.s.s crack and taint that added to the boy's that made manlier and more desirable to break. The hairs there made Josh - after he shot his second load - extremely ticklish and s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e in that area, around behind his scrotum and taint and around his tight hole. The boy wailed and thrashed at being touched and tickled there, just seconds before the Big Sam.o.a.n had his time to f.u.c.k him a day before he was shipped to his new owners. The boy froze when he felt the enormous head of the Big Sam.o.a.n's bat like d.i.c.k rubbing his a.s.s crack and then pushing at his hole.

"No!!!! No!!!! No f.u.c.k.i.n.g way man!!!!!" the boy whispered knowing it was futile.

Josh was stoic through the first part of the brutal **** of his a.s.s - gasping once or twice - heavy tears in his eyes betraying the horror and overwhelming pain he felt. Josh had tried to hold back any outburst of pain. But the Big Sam.o.a.n wasn't having any of that - he torqued, twisted, pulled all the way out and plunged back into the tight hole in one shove as Josh gasped and cried out in sheer pain, his eyes bugged out in terror feeling what seemed to him an endless enormous flagpole being shoved slowly up his a.s.s. He felt sure that it would rip and shred his insides as the Big Sam.o.a.n easily broke down any resistance and kept plunging deep inside Josh.

"OOOOOOOH GOD!!!! AAAAHHHH!!!!!" Josh screamed out, unable to hold back the incredible pain.

The Big Sam.o.a.n's enormous hard 14 inch steel rod plunged in and out like a machine with each deep thrust into Josh's clenched hot hole. Josh, his eyes filled with tears of pain and rage, yelled obscenities at his rapist and continued to struggle but his defiance crumbled as the deep brutal f.u.c.k.i.n.g thrusts tore into his a.s.s chute.

The Big Sam.o.a.n, loving the resistance and the incredible tightness of Josh's clenched hole, got even harder. He slapped the boy's taut muscled a.s.s checks hard as his enormous flag pole f.u.c.k meat drilled its full throbbing length deep inside him. The huge man's big ball sack slapped loudly against Josh's trembling a.s.s cheeks as a horrible coda to each thrust that reminded Josh how deep another man's prick was inside of him. Each thrust of the Big Sam.o.a.n's enormous d.i.c.k caused a loud gasp of intense pain from Josh in a choking sobbing voice.

Some 45 minutes later of shoving his huge c.o.c.k in and out like a f.u.c.k machine into the straight surfer boy, the Big Sam.o.a.n grunted loudly several times threw his head back and made five piston like deep thrusts shooting a huge thick load deep into the boy's a.s.s.

The surfer boy's mind was overwhelmed and sickened by the thrusting pain but bewildered by that incredible sensation that sometimes made him feel like he was going to shoot a load. What the f.u.c.k was happening a small part of Josh's brain wondered, though that thought vanished quickly as the sensation was washed away by the intense pain of being f.u.c.k.e.d. He never before had his prostate stimulated by any of the girls he had s.e.x with, never wanting a girl to stick their fingers up his a.s.s.

Like being forced earlier to get hard and c.u.m against his will by other men, the feeling of being momentarily aroused by a sensation he never felt before while being brutally r.a.p.ed caused Josh further anguish that he could be so manipulated that he masked with renewed rage.

One after another, some 40 guys shoved their hard c.o.c.ks into the suffering boy's hole, as his tormentors pinched and bit his neck, sides and c.h.e.s.t, giving special attention at twisting and pulling at his now reddened and extremely sore n.i.p.p.l.es. Josh's squirming feet and toes, torso and armpits were tongued, s.u.c.k.e.d and tickled all through his ordeal that caused him to involuntarily clench tighter his sore abused straight boy asshole that caused him more pain as each man plunged their d.i.c.ks into him.

After being r.a.p.ed over and over, Josh's tanned sweat covered muscled body was a canvas of hundreds of pinch and bite marks, with warm c.u.m leaking out of his hole.

Josh was a basket case when they were through with him and after a week, they sold him to an extremely rich sadistic man who specialized in endless tickle torture of "All American" type straight boys, who would be tied up n.a.k.e.d and at the mercy of men who showed absolutely none. The secret of Josh's initial defiance and lack of response to tickling was passed on to his new owners. They loved tying him spread eagle on a elevated iron frame that exposed every part of his body including the soles of his feet. Dozens of fingers, hands, tongues and devices attacked his helpless body in one endless session of extreme tickle torture after another.

Josh, the Big Sam.o.a.n heard later, tried to commit suicide several times following several seemingly endless intense tickle torture sessions that drove the boy over the edge. Those tickle torture sessions of Josh first concentrated on cruel sadistic tickling of the boy's feet and toes made slippery and ultra-s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e with light oil, in a week long endless session. Those endless sessions were followed by endless full body tickle torture, followed again by feet tickling, with the sessions repeating over and over with only a day or two break in between.

The Big Sam.o.a.n knew the surfer boy was still alive, checking on his status a few days earlier. His sadistic owners sent the Facility a three hour video of a recent ordeal that Josh was forced to endure. In that incredible video and in nearly all the other sessions he was forced to endure now, the unfortunate surfer boy was subjected to the intense non-stop tickle torture sessions while tied to a non-stop f.u.c.k.i.n.g machine with stim pads and rings on his balls and c.o.c.k. With all that torment, Josh was kept healthy and in muscled shape to endure it even if he was driven each time to the edge of insanity if not over.

The Big Sam.o.a.n remembered how Josh's incredibly tight a.s.s hole gripped his huge c.o.c.k and the feeling of the heat of his a.s.s chute and struggling body trapped beneath him. For the Big Sam.o.a.n it was extremely e.r.o.t.i.c to see and hear those videos of the formerly arrogant surfer boy scream and shriek from the endless tickle torture, dildo f.u.c.k.i.n.g and other torments inflicted on his body. The Big Sam.o.a.n smiled at that hot memory of Josh.

Aaah, he was a good one the Big Sam.o.a.n thought. He wouldn't mind having a taste of that boy again.

Normally a fresh new straight boy abducted and delivered, like Curt, would be r.a.p.ed that same day, unless a potential buyer gave specific instructions that they wanted a v.i.r.g.i.n. The Big Sam.o.a.n knew it would happen to Curt because the boy's extraordinary looks made it financially advantageous for the Facility to arrange his public gang **** to be viewed by many in a live audience at the Facility and via live stream video - rather than a private **** by a private buyer. It wasn't a hard and fast rule with the Facility, but the Big Sam.o.a.n had been around long enough to discern which boy was likely to meet that fate versus another.

All he knew that there were some big plans on when and how that would happen for Curt. He couldn't wait to see the arrogant straight boy tied up spread eagle and have his tight cherry asshole ripped by countless number of eager d.i.c.ks, including his own. It would happen. He looked forward with excitement to that moment. He could wait. And after that he would also get his turn as he always did with the boys they got for a full night of private time where he could do anything he wanted to the bound, struggling, abused straight boys. He would have Curt for sure.

But there was a delay. Curt was considered special. More beautiful than the others perhaps? It was something about his personality too - his c.o.c.kiness and arrogance and defiance toward them. But there was something else beyond that - at least to those who controlled the Facility.

But with Curt there was still another reason why his torments were spread out over weeks, with long rest and exercise periods to keep his youthful body as muscled, lean and toned as the day he was abducted and why his inevitable gang **** and other tortures had not yet happened.

Curt was one of a select few whose body - especially his c.o.c.k and balls - were ultra-s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to any touch as if each of his fine body hairs were electrical conduits wired through his entire body causing immediate unbearable near ticklish sensations when touched or even brushed lightly. They were amazed - Curt reacted in terror even when fingers were just a half inch away from his skin - the very thought was sending the boy into hysterics that he tried desperately to hide and control. Blowing air from their mouths just inches away from his pits or pubes or sides caused Curt to flinch and yell. The boy was off the charts in his reactions - and clearly was their most ticklish victim to date.

He was extremely s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to any touching under his hairy armpits, ears, neck, feet, in between his toes, upper legs, belly button and stomach - far more than nearly all of their previous victims, except for a small handful. And none of them, while cute or handsome, ranked in the same league as Curt's model like looks, with his almost perfect proportionate muscled chiseled body. Curt's c.o.c.k and balls were extremely s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e, especially when his knob polished. The underside of his long f.u.c.k stalk, when hard, was extremely s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e and his sweet spot was just under the helmet shaped knob. And from that first (and so far only) long edging session that first day and night he was abducted, they knew every spot. Virtually none of his s.e.x.u.a.l partners prior to his abduction - all females - knew that, and if they touched that sweet spot of Curt's, it was by accident when he m.o.a.n.e.d or gasped. Their attention to it though, like so many other females, was not prolonged or intense.

They also knew he was extremely ticklish when they did the initial explorations of his body when he was first abducted and then later when he was stripped of his clothes, and prepped to be edged. Curt's involuntary reactions and responses to being edged, c.o.c.k polished, milked - and his reactions to post o.r.g.a.s.m stroking and polishing of his thick long f.u.c.k meat were off the charts - and that was the main reason the Big Sam.o.a.n realized why this particular straight frat jock boy was so desirable to him - and to so many in the facility and the viewing audience.

He had not yet been tickle tortured yet - though he clearly was trying to hide his sheer terror of that happening thinking perhaps they would forget about it or feel it wasn't worth it because he wasn't ticklish.

Before his abduction, Curt could always control and stop anyone from tickling him. Anyone who tried received an instant stern command warning, followed by a hard push by his arms and hands of the offending fingers if his command was not instantly obeyed. Male or female he would instantly rebuke any attempt to jokingly tickle him. So it never happened to him.

The Big Sam.o.a.n realized he was more obsessed with Curt than many of the other boys they previously abducted partly also because of the hidden videos and pictures that his apartment neighbor had taken of him. That was a treasure find for the Facility - normally they would never have that type of intrusive doc.u.mentation of a victim before he was abducted. They might have regular photos and videos of their victims - either on them - in sports or family events or among friends. Some shirtless. But nothing like this.

Never before had a boy they abducted had with them what appeared to be hidden videos taken of himself, focusing on his c.h.e.s.t, and particularly his crotch and b.u.t.t. After careful investigation, the Facility realized the videos and pictures were taken by Curt's neighbor without his knowledge - something that Curt explained on the day of his capture after his tormentors found the camera in his bag.

But it was that very hidden nature of the videos and pictures taken by his neighbor that was so alluring to his captors. The videos and pictures seem to stalk Curt's every move at the apartment complex he lived, or nearby parks or neighborhood mostly at times when he was shirtless, working out, working on his car, but sometimes just walking around or flirting with girls. The focus of the camera always seemed to worship the boy's body, zooming in on his tight a.s.s, or pecs, armpit hairs or belly button and crotch.

And since it was hidden video and pictures, Curt always appeared unaware, his body and s.e.xiness totally not posed and totally natural. The pictures and videos always showed a confident, Alpha Male who clearly had every woman - and probably a lot of guys - under his spell.

One of the many video clips showed Curt's muscled arms were up behind his head, exposing in an almost e.r.o.t.i.c way, his deep armpits covered by a masculine thick patch of light brown wiry hairs. With his arms up, his shirtless body was put on full display as he lay on the padded lounge chair, wearing medium cut loose damp shorts that bulged l.e.w.dly in the crotch.

Another clip showed Curt's golden tanned body the lens focused on his two defined muscled mounds of pecs centered by quarter size n.i.p.p.l.es, down to his 8 pack sculpted abs and s.e.xy belly button highlight by a distinct treasure trail of wispy hairs, that all glistened with sun tan oil and pure male sweat soaking up the rays of the hot sun.

The camera captured even the smallest details - Curt's perspiration that dampened his dirty blonde brownish hair and made his shorts cling l.e.w.dly, showing off every muscle, bulge, and crevice of his bubble tight a.s.s and crotch down to his size 13 b.a.r.e feet and perfectly clipped toes. Even at rest, his lean athletic muscled body looked both inviting and intimidating whether from those longing stares came from females and even males who one could observe were sneaking many long peeks at the half n.a.k.e.d golden Adonis.

For several more minutes he lay there, eyes closed, as the view of his large bulge seemed to show almost an o.b.s.c.e.n.e outline of his manhood as the video camera zoomed in even closer as it panned his body. Suddenly in the video, two beautiful girls came up to the resting youth as they flirted with him - clearly hot for the young God. His masculine yet youthful reedy voice could be heard flirting back, with a slight, very slight movement of the large bulge in his clinging shorts that showed the boy getting aroused.

The hidden camera captured everything - a predator in his natural environment being secretly filmed - and now watched by those who preyed upon him.

The Big Sam.o.a.n would always spend hours watching those videos or pics after Curt was in his cell for the night sleeping and couldn't believe how beautiful and alluring his body was. The Big Sam.o.a.n especially liked straight boys who felt they were God's gift to women. Those videos and pictures of Curt showed he was definitely an Adonis.

The Sam.o.a.n's steel hard thick 14 inch fearsome looking f.u.c.k meat that resembled when hard a steel pipe, cured any straight boy of the notion of being god's gift to women - with a slow push, painfully slow thrusting of his huge enormous fat d.i.c.k into their tight clinging hole as they screamed. They always did. He was always slow and deliberate - pushing his enormous peach sized knob, almost kissing his straight boy's victim's tight quivering asshole ring clenched in a desperate futile attempt to stop the brutal **** that was going to happen.

The enormous head would touch the a.s.s ring, lightly poking at it, rubbing it as the boy squirmed, yelled, and struggled. He would always pull back and then run the head and the partial length of his huge steel hard prong up and down the boy's a.s.s crack. He loved pushing his giant prick inside a boy - and then just holding inside, forcing the boy to feel and accept the huge log inside his shit hole.

The horror of feeling that gigantic club sized weapon seemed to always be the clincher in breaking down continued resistance of all of his previous straight boy victims. He would bring the huge wide head of his enormous hard thick and long steel pole back down to the quivering tight hole - clenched even more now in fear - as he pushed through the ring as if it was butter. They always screamed, even if they tried desperately not to, even if they gritted their teeth and tried to block out the horrible assault.

The Big Sam.o.a.n always went slow to make the boy feel it - to break down the boy's futile attempt to stop him. They always failed. Even the most defiant c.o.c.ky straight boy ended up buckling wild and screaming from the intense sharp unending pain and the sheer horror and humiliation of being r.a.p.ed so brutally. The Big Sam.o.a.n not only took their v.i.r.g.i.n cherry, but smashed it.

Yeah - it always happened that way. His hard long c.o.c.k plunged into the backsides of an unwilling Adonis like Curt would always cure them of arrogance. He looked forward to taking Curt on that long ride that he promised himself would be long, painful to Curt.

He would - like all his other boys - try desperately not to scream - but they always did as he knew Curt would too. He knew Curt would resist - and looked forward to that, and would force him to see the enormous prick as it f.u.c.k.e.d his tight straight a.s.s.

He would dominate the boy completely - but also knew that he l.u.s.ted after the boy's incredible body. He wanted to f.u.c.k him hard - but also wanted to p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e him over and over forcing loads of c.u.m from his straight boy d.i.c.k against his will. He wanted to lavish his Big Sam.o.a.n tongue and mouth on every muscle, crevice, nodule, hair and hole. And tickle the shit out of him. Yeah, he would do all those things he thought.

He sat and watched yet another video clip of this incredibly handsome yet arrogant youth lounging in his clinging swim suit, showing off his youthful muscled body and l.e.w.dly, the outline of his f.u.c.k meat, at his apartment pool. The Big Sam.o.a.n's enormous c.o.c.k flexed hard watching it. What a beautiful man this Curt was.

He smiled and wished he could display the video of Curt's gang **** - when it happened - to those people who adored and l.u.s.ted after him at his apartment complex and on the college campus where he reigned as a king.

He fantasized the very moment when it would actually happen, when he would finally be able to pinch and pull at Curt's large salmon colored quarter sized n.i.p.p.l.es, to twist and yank hard at those s.e.xy masculine nodules centered on both muscled mounds of his defined pecs. The Big Sam.o.a.n promised himself that he would bite, nibble, chew and pull at those n.i.p.p.l.es until he screamed like the bitch he now was as he plunged his d.i.c.k into his v.i.r.g.i.n a.s.s.

It wouldn't be long before he got his turn. He could wait. He always did.