tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79894445774276431872024-02-18T21:13:56.837-06:00Frothing AuthorGoogle home of Jasper McCutcheon and Jardonn SmithJasper McCutcheonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18323874973805704795noreply@blogger.comBlogger427125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-49018805231777309402015-11-23T16:43:00.002-06:002015-12-05T12:12:42.344-06:00The Ring Boy part 3<span style="font-size: large;">Part Three - Dick's Retirement</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">To this day, it amazes me how easily everything fell into place for us. The second property we saw was the one we bought and although the main house required a bit of fixing up, the outbuildings were just what we needed, especially the barn. It was no more than 10 years old and, once insulated, could house everything necessary for the training facility. There was enough height to construct a second floor. The top would be for instruction, with practice mats and separate rooms for free weights, stretching and conditioning; while the ground floor would be for housing and showers, plus a dining and recreation hall. There also was a nice-sized pond 75 yards from the facility for fishing and supervised swimming, while the entire complex sat on 50 acres less than a mile from the nearest highway. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When the movers arrived with the tractor trailer containing our possessions, Dick got a phone call from the agent in Chicago, informing him there was a buyer for his house. Three days later, we had a buyer for mine and all properties closed nice and tight both in Chicago and Oklahoma. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My new job was to maintain the finances and find students for the classes, while Dick bought necessary equipment and worked with the contractors he hired to redesign the barn. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Our goal was to get the business facility prepared first, then work on the house at a leisurely pace. This was to be a June to August summer camp, two-week course with kids grouped according to age or weight, depending on whether they were age 6 to 11 or 12 to 18. Dick would teach them free-style and Greco-Roman techniques, while the emphasis would be to prepare them for high school and collegiate wrestling, both mentally and physically.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was to be the official preparer and server of meals, cleaner of toilets and showers, and director of discipline and recreation. I anticipated this to be much more strenuous than his function, but no matter, because I was no longer salaried. Dick had made me a full partner in our enterprise and we pooled all our resources into one pot. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We closed on the property in November, which gave us about six months to complete the construction, then I could make pictures for flyers to send out. Because of his reputation, I had no problem making contacts. Almost every junior and high school wrestling coach I contacted knew who he was and some remembered competing against or watching him in the college days. Even the elementary school officials had heard of him. Most of my telephone calls were answered with, "Dick Hodges? Sure, send the flyer and I'll post it."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">By the end of April, our barn remodeling was almost finished and all classes for June were booked, with more requests for information still coming in. I could now devote more time to the house, while still handling any phone calls or other business regarding the camp. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As for the home life, it was sweet. Dick would usually hang around until noon, at which time he would putter in the training facility, adding little extras as he saw the need and using the weight room to keep his body in shape. This, of course, pleased me immensely. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There was one item he didn't consider, but I enlightened him on it. "Ok, Dick, you got insurance for the property, now you better cover our ass."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Explain."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What if a kid gets injured or there's an accident? We don't want any lawsuits. Better go to Tulsa and talk to an attorney about insurance for that."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"God damn, you're clever. I'll reward you when I get back."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"How about a reward now and when you get back?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He was such a pushover, I could talk him into anything. One of my first priorities when we first moved in was to get the master bedroom situated, so that when he came into the house we'd have something to do after dinner. Just before Christmas time Dick told me he was unsatisfied with his old bed and asked me to look for a king size, preferably with four corner posts, and it was only after I found one and had it set up did I learn about his desired position to receive the next blow-job. It was the first Christmas eve of our new life together.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He presented to me four ropes with four nicely looped slip knots at one end. After his hands and feet were inside the loops, it was my duty to pull the ropes until the loops effectively secured the wrists and ankles, then tie each of the open ends of rope to the four corner posts. So, he was bound in a spread eagle position, and as you might have suspected, he also had draped himself over the top of two stacked pillows - representing Killer Manjaro.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, Dick Hodges desired to relive the night of our first encounter, but in the much more comfortable and private confines of our bedroom. Perhaps it was therapy for both of us - a way of saying "thanks" to the bastards that humiliated us back in Chicago. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Think they hurt me, Jimmy?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"They did then. What about now?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Feels good, now. They did us a favor."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Right or wrong, what they forced us to do in public led us to repeat the act for our own enjoyment. He received the first of these in mostly the same manner as had happened in the ring, with me first burying my face into and then licking his belly, followed by an expertly-executed dick sucking.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Christmas morning, he woke me up to go through it again, but this time asked me to look for hot spots. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Where do you want me to start?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Jimmy, I'm a tough son of a bitch. You take all the time you need and explore all of it."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A Christmas gift from the gods - Dick Hodges laid there bound over those pillows, while I put my tongue and lips all over him. And just as he suggested, I took my own sweet time. Big, beefy, thick and powerful, this 100 percent ruggedly beautiful male masterpiece basked in a timeless marathon of intense body worship. I found many, many hot spots and stored them for reference into my library of knowledge about the male physique - in particular, one Dick Hodges. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">What was my favorite spot? All of it. He was my ideal of masculinity, just as he should be for you, so I won't ruin your fantasy with my reality. I lavished my praise onto every inch of skin from the fingers to the toes, inhaling the heavenly tastes and aromas of the ultimate man, until I again returned to kneel before his helplessly bouncing pecker. Merry Christmas, Mr. Hodges.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After I untied him, we wasted some time with a bit of snoozing and mutual cuddling, then Dick resumed his role as a dominant male and we proceeded to break in our new bed for the remainder of the day. This became our household Christmas tradition. Only on that evening would the ropes come out, and the 364-day anticipation helped us to maintain a very healthy relationship. Any time we had little spats or one or the other of us was in a bad mood, either he or I would say, "Christmas is coming soon," and even if it was only February, just the thought of what was to come made us smile. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">On our first New Year's eve together, he asked for a little variation. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Here, remember this?" He tossed me a bottle of olive oil. "Time for you to rub me down the way you used to, Jimmy."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Again, we returned to the days of his professional career, as he lay on his belly to receive my deep-muscle massage. It had been nearly three months since I had dug my fingers into him and somehow the skin felt different - smoother, more vital. No longer subjected to abuse in the ring, Dick's flesh seemed to take on a youthful glow, while the olive oil gave it a bronzed sheen, as though he were a mighty Greek warrior. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I penetrated every inch, from the back of the neck, hands and forearms to the calves, ankles and soles of feet. Then, he turned over and I saturated side two. Once I had finished the rub down, I applied the oil to his testicles and semi-erect penis. As he lay sprawled with eyes closed, I manually brought him to full erection, then mounted him. Now, he became a Greek god. His other-worldly power rushed to concentrate itself into his penis, causing my innards to first surrender, then counter-attack. The muscles crushed his cock, as I slowly raised my buttocks off his pelvis several inches, then slammed back down to sit on him, squeezing with all my strength. My rhythm was just the right pace and I could tell from experience that he was about to fire, when suddenly he opened the eyes and raised up to rest on his elbows. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Turn around."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He laid back down flat and with a little difficulty, I closed his dick tightly in my vise, supported myself with palms on the mattress and turned to the left, swinging the right leg over him. After one more turn, the left leg lifted over his thighs and I sat with my back towards him, still crushing the tool inside me. Dick raised up, locked me into a full nelson and slowly brought my torso to lay atop his. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"How does it feel? Want me to break your back?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Do what you gotta do," I clinched my butt cheeks tight. "I'm still gonna torture your cock." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Don't move your arms."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He released the nelson and I held position, still squeezing with my rectal innards. I saw his arms move on either side of me and he scraped oil from his thighs and flanks, then transferred the thick liquid onto my chest and stomach. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Lay your legs flat outside of mine."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As I did, Dick intensified the deep oiled rub onto my stretched torso, pressing his thick and scratchy palms and fingers into my skin. Time and again he removed oil from his body and coated me, as I continued to relentlessly crush his throbbing pole. Then, I felt utopia. He cupped my cock into his oiled hand and stroked me, which caused my entire body to twitch. I arched my back and felt his hot, heavy breath burning my ear, while both his dick and mine surged with increased strength. I crushed his and he stroked mine, until my balls shrunk to the size of peanuts and jettisoned their seed onto my chest and stomach. Writhing and contorting in uncontrolled ecstasy, my inside muscles flexed and spasmed in conjunction with my orgasm, which further stimulated his impaling cock. My contractions subsided and he slowed the manual strokes, then squeezed out whatever was left in my shaft. That's when I heard a pitiful moan and felt his body undulate beneath me, as he flooded my insides with his own semen, urged on by my relentlessly crushing and flexing rectum. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We both laid there for quite some time, silently panting for breath, until his fading unit slipped past the rim of my asshole.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Turn over."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I did as asked and we laid chest to chest, squishing that olive oil between us. He wrapped his arms around me and gently squeezed. "Next week, you're taking me to Tulsa."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ok. Why?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'm flying to Chicago."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ok. Why?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Kyle's coming. His mom and dad, too."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I raised up to quiz him further. "What for? The barn isn't ready."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Upstairs is. Enough to get him started, anyway."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Where are they gonna stay?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"There's plenty of room in this house."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I started to protest, because the house was nowhere near ready for guests, unless they wanted to sleep surrounded by walls with peeling wallpaper and bathe in rusty tubs with leaky faucets and walk on floors that sounded near collapse. Instead, I kissed him. Kyle was coming. What else mattered?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, Mr. Hodges, I hope you're happy now that we've ruined my favorite sheets."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah, better get some new ones. Next time we'll use the conditioning room."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Or put a plastic cover on the bed."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I ain't laying on plastic. Gives me the creeps."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Another holiday ritual was born: purchase new sheets for the bed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The Bixby's were good people and fully forgave us our dilapidated house. The parents and I played many games of three-handed cribbage, while their son began his first lessons in doing it the Dick Hodges way, both in wrestling and in life. The boy who gave him the incentive to "keep fightin' 'em" - to explore and accept his new career, turned out to be one of Dick's prized pupils. He attended the camps free of charge each year, becoming one of the top amateur wrestlers first in high school, then the University of Illinois and the Olympics. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our narrator in the other story said that Dick Hodges faded into history, which is true, but that history is very much alive. Thanks mainly to the internet, Dick and those like him - real men, real athletes who were cast out of the world of professional wrestling are once again known and appreciated for their contributions and accomplishments. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There are countless web sites devoted to them and many of these "old timers" who are still alive now are in demand for speeches and even seminars on wrestling techniques and the history of the sport. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not bitter about what happened to pro wrestling. It changed along with society. Our culture demanded more drama, comedy and sex at an accelerated pace. Besides, all is not lost. Pro wrestling can be entertaining as hell, plus with men like Olympic medalist Kurt Angle and the offspring of legends from Dick's time (like Randy Orton, son of Bob, grandson of Bob, Sr.), the traditions begun by earlier generations continue. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I look at it this way: that night, Dick Hodges was taken from professional wrestling and given to me. Without that incident, who knows what would have been left of him when he retired? Every time a pro wrestler enters the ring, his body deteriorates a little more, not to mention that one wrong move can result in permanent damage to neck or spine or any number of vital parts. Dick was given to me with a body still vibrant and full of life, which has been allowed to age naturally and remain a dominant force. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Another statement made by that narrator claims that I was with Dick until the end, which is also true. But the end has not yet come. He still teaches the summer camps and wrestles with me the other nine months of the year. Dick and Jimmy are still together, partners for life, the hero and his ring boy.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">the end</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-57999742105054549642015-11-16T01:04:00.000-06:002015-11-16T01:04:08.714-06:00The Ring Boy part 2<span style="font-size: large;">Part Two - Dick's Homecoming</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Any mail today, Jimmy?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sadly, there was. It was the third consecutive day he had asked and I could no longer keep lying to him. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hobson at the Tribune would like to write an article about the match - you know, from your perspective."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Nah, to hell with him. There's nothing to say about it anyway. No letters from the fans?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I had already filtered out the ones that included threats on his life, but reluctantly, I handed him the ones that were merely sarcastic and hateful. "It's all negative shit, Dick."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He read them, one by one, sometimes laughing, sometimes shaking his head in disbelief. After going through half a dozen, he handed both these and the remaining unread letters back to me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, I get the gist of it. Guess they don't want to see the likes of me in the ring again."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Only losers write threats they don't have to back up. You know that." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah, well, fuck 'em. They don't know anything about it."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"That's right, they don't."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He put on an effective facade, but I could tell those vicious words had hurt him again - just as they would anybody who once had enjoyed a celebrity status. One letter had been withheld from him and now I put it in his hand.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Here, try this one."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He opened and read the neatly hand-printed message:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Dear Mr Hodges,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>It was bad what they did to you. I want to be like you when I grow up. My dad said I can try out for the wrestling team when I am old enough. I wish you could show me how to wrestle. Nobody is as good as you. It makes me sad that you are sick.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Your pal,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Kyle Bixby</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With a stern expression, he carefully folded the paper, returned it to the envelope and handed it to me, "Keep this, Jimmy. Don't ever lose it. That letter is our future."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Before I could analyze what that meant, Dick's lead doctor entered the room. He looked over the charts and vitals, then told Mr. Hodges that he could go home in the morning. After giving him a list of instructions and prescriptions that would be needed to complete the healing process, the good doctor left the room. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Thank god, I'm so sick of this place I could put my fist through a wall."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Rearing to go, are ya'?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Better believe it. Are you gonna get me off tonight?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No problem." Of course I was, just as I had done for the past nine. "I suppose you know this is Saturday."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah, my two week anniversary."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You wanna watch tonight's broadcast?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He gazed out the window for a few seconds, then turned to stare me down. "No, Jimmy, I don't think I will - don't give a shit what's going on there. It'll only make me want to kill somebody - and we can't have that, can we?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, we can't. Besides, I'd want to help you and we'd both end up in jail."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hadn't even mentioned it to him on the one week anniversary, but instead had made a reason to leave for awhile so I could find a nearby tavern where the broadcast was displayed on their television set. As I suspected, the three assassins were pummeling a couple of guys I'd never seen before, probably some suckers they'd called in from the hinterlands. I hoped these jobbers had demanded a tidy sum of money, because they were getting the holy shit beat out of them, while the fans in the arena were going bonkers.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sunday morning I drove Dick to his house. There was no celebration - no one there to greet him. He had no family, unless you could call a one-night-stand, unknown father and an alcoholic mother his family. Wrestling was his ticket out of that miserable childhood, as he excelled in the sport during both junior and senior high school, then parlayed his skills into a full scholarship to Oklahoma State University. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For two weeks, he had lived in that hospital bed with no visitors - not the wrestlers, not the fans, not even the promoter, which to me was beyond belief. How much money had Dick Hodges made for this man? Surely enough to warrant a phone call or letter, but neither of us had heard anything from him since the night of the mugging. He was about to hear from one of us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Tomorrow morning, I'm gonna pay a visit to my old boss."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Slater?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yep."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What are you gonna do to him?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He laughed at this. "Physically, nothing. I'm gonna hit him in his pocketbook."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"How so?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"We're cashing in, Jimmy. He's paying my hospital bill, buying out my contract. I'm selling this house and you're selling yours. We're going home."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I wish I could have been with him in that man's office, just to hear what was said and how it was done, but the end result is that Dick came home with a huge wad of cash, and true to his word we put both houses on the market. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Two items of importance took place before we moved back to Oklahoma. One was an exploratory trip to make things ready for our return. Dick had decided that the Lake Eufala area was the best place to be, so we met with a real estate agent in nearby Tulsa to put the plan into motion.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Give him that letter, Jimmy."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I handed the agent an envelope from one Kyle Bixby, smiling as the agent opened and read the words.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick explained it to him. "I'm opening a training camp for youngsters. The place will need 30 to 50 acres with a livable house. I'd like to have water, either a pond, stream or access to one of the lakes. These are phone numbers where you can reach me. Find at least three possible locations and call us." He handed the letter back to me for safekeeping. "We'll be back when you're ready to show."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The agent went to work on our project, while Dick and I returned to Chicago. First thing he did when we got home was to write a letter to that boy and show it to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Dear Kyle, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>This is your pal, Dick Hodges. Your letter sure made my day. In fact, thanks to fellas like you writing to cheer me up, I'm not sick anymore.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I'm glad you want to be a wrestler. Because of wrestling, I was able to go to college and meet lots of really great people. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>You'll be hearing from me again real soon, because if things work out for me, I'm going to teach you and other young fellas how to do it the Dick Hodges way. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Yours truly,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Dick Hodges</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Sign it and send it, Dick. That'll make the kid's day."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hope so. I gotta hunch about who he is."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He explained to me the moment in the ring when he was about to give up.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I turned my head and saw this man holding a boy in his arms. Everyone around was screaming for Manjaro and them to finish me, but this boy was crying. I do believe his lips were telling me to keep fighting, so that's what I did."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I had to look away for a second in order to maintain my composure and somehow managed to do so, "Whether it's him or not, it's one hell of a story."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Sure is. I gotta make sure kids like him know what wrestling's all about. It ain't about beating people up."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There is no doubt in my mind that Kyle Bixby's letter saved Dick from a dreary future. It gave him not only a new purpose and optimism, but also (and perhaps even more important) it prevented him from hating - from staying bitter about what had happened to him. Living with resentment can age a man quickly and eat at his insides, just as surely as a stomp to the belly can rupture them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With that said, let's return to the previous Sunday, because the second item of note was the homecoming celebration for Dick Hodges. Oh, it wasn't anything fancy, but it was quite memorable. Within minutes of entering his house, both of us had stripped down and pulled the coverings off of his bed. I soon found myself smothered under a mass of muscle and fur, looking up to his steel-blue eyes. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hell, Jimmy, how come we never thought of this before?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Guess we never had time to think about it before." I planted my palms onto the small of his back and coaxed him to massage our hardened dicks, as they were crushed between our bellies. </span><span style="font-size: large;">He slowly thrust his body forward and the friction of fur and hard skin nearly made me spasm right then and there, but Dick had other plans.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Jimmy, can I get in you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You mean my ass?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah, I've been thinking about it for days."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hard to believe, but this thought had never entered my head. I was perfectly satisfied sucking him off and masturbating myself later, but all I really wanted was to please him, so of course I said, "We can try. This is all new to me."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Me, too."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There was nothing erotic about our first attempt at intercourse. In fact, it was nearly a comedy of errors, starting with the lubricant. First, we tried spit, but by the time he had his dick hard enough to take a stab, the spit was dried up and so was his mouth. With my legs draped over his shoulders, Dick stood on his knees jacking like a madman, only to find my virgin asshole wouldn't budge an inch. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Frankly, I was scared to death, but finally, we decided to use a bottle of lotion, and at my suggestion he put some on the rim of my rectum with his fingers, then opened me up with first one, then two of his thick digits. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was a start, but after he had his cock slicked up and ready to go, he was shaken by a howling shriek of agony, as the bulging head of his organ plowed past my rim. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Immediately, he pulled out. "Oh, shit. I didn't mean to..."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault. Just give me some time."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He looked down at me like a faithful hound who knew he had done something wrong, but then I broke into laughter and so did he. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hey, Dick, maybe I should have gone to the library to get a book on this."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah, why didn't you? What the hell am I paying you for?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Guess I forgot to read about Dick's dick."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Besides that, you've had two weeks with nothing else to do. I oughtta terminate your paycheck."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He let go my legs and faked throwing a punch into my gut, then I returned the favor. Soon we clinched into a pretend wrestling match, smearing lotion all over ourselves and the sheets, until I found myself once again crushed under his heavenly chest. He pecked my forehead and cheeks with dry kisses, then our lips came together and his tongue found it's way to mine. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick started making love to me like he was a man and I was a woman, slowly sliding his body down, leaving kisses on my neck, then chest, then stomach. Neither of us spoke, as he once again reared up on his knees and draped my legs over his shoulders. After relubing, he gently pressed inside me and waited for my acceptance, then slowly came forward inches at a time. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was all so simple, once we stopped thinking and started feeling. I was broken in with merciful strokes, until I not only received his peter, but also participated in its stimulation. Unconsciously, I contracted the muscles of my rectum each time he achieved maximum penetration, while he expertly turned and twisted his hips, spearing me from left, right, above and below. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We were no longer rookies. My man's glorious cock was thoroughly satisfied, as he filled me with a dominating masculinity only he could give. And for the first time since our discovery, he masturbated me, drawing a line of lotion on my raging erection, then stroking me in the rough palm of his hand and fingers. All the while, his penis remained buried to the deepest part of my rectum, which brought me a nearly-instantaneous orgasm. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Make no mistake, we certainly were not professionals, but the first opponent had been defeated. Fear was no longer part of the equation, because from this point forward, we learned by exploration - by doing what felt natural to us. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">His homecoming was a huge success, and after we returned from that trip to Tulsa, we had many days with many hours to further acquaint ourselves with this new sport. Dick approached it in the same manner he had wrestling: with 100 percent dedication, enthusiasm, respect and training. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He felt compelled to practice with me anywhere from two to four times per day, as he experimented with almost every position imaginable. Yes, in time he did decide to suck my dick and yes, we both became proficient at this exercise. No, he did not desire to be fucked and I would not have done so had he asked. Such an act would not be appropriate for a hero, and for me he could be nothing else. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">next part in a week</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-12889943044042633002015-11-07T12:13:00.003-06:002015-11-07T12:35:27.930-06:00The Ring Boy part 1<span style="font-size: large;">is a companion piece to the Man of Black and White. These were written in 2008, and are background stories for what led to 2010's A True Ring, one of five tales in the Jardonn book, Suspicious Diagnosis. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">THE RING BOY</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">by Jardonn</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Part One - Dick's Recovery</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges was a dying breed. He was a wrestler in the purest sense of the word, but the "sport" of professional wrestling had disappeared before his very eyes. To me, he was the ultimate athlete and possessor of the most perfectly designed structure ever to house the soul of a man, although had you looked at him after his final match - the one that ended his career, you would not have agreed with me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was witness to the atrocities perpetrated against him. I, along with hundreds of others, saw one man suffer at the hands of two - then three, then an entire gang, as the referee and other officials stood by and allowed the destruction of Dick Hodges to continue uninterrupted. He was a man of integrity - a man who played by the rules, and in order to defend these principles, he had fought them to the bitter end. Despite the overwhelming odds, this man summoned every ounce of strength time and again in his struggle to break free and defeat them, until finally, his tortured body could take no more. It took nearly three hours before they could finally pin him for the three count and in this time he suffered like no man should ever be made to suffer. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Lord, how they beat him - with fists and forearms, with stomping and kicking boots, with illegal devices and metal chairs that opened his skin until blood flowed, and worst of all, with 400 pound belly flops. These caused unholy damage to his internal organs, but as if the beatings weren't enough, he also was stripped naked and degraded before every person packed inside the arena. Granted, it is hard to imagine something so vile could have taken place in a public forum such as this, but the worst was yet to come. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This is the place in the story where I became a part of the tragedy. I was his ringside assistant and although I had done everything in my power to help him escape this massacre, a man of 170 pounds is rather useless against monsters nearly twice his size and weight. Each of my feeble attempts to interrupt their assault upon my outnumbered friend was easily swatted down, as though I were a mere fly - a meaningless buzz of annoyance. My final try at stopping them resulted in me being crushed and trapped in a corner turnbuckle by one of the hulks, as I stood helplessly watching the others remove his boots, socks, wrestling trunks and jock strap. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Once he was prepared, they brought me forward with my hands held behind the back and head guided by a huge paw grasping onto a clump of my hair. They forced me to kneel between the thighs of their victim, who was hideously bound with wrists and ankles tightly pulled in four opposing directions and secured in the grasps of four men. Adding to his agony, the body was draped over the top of a 400 pound mountain of a man named Killer Manjaro (he also being the instigator of the belly flops), as they both lay horizontal in the center of the ring, one atop the other. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, with the target cruelly displayed in a naked, spread-eagle posture, chest thrust high into the air and belly mercilessly flattened, my face was forced down onto that belly so hard that I could barely breath. Then, they raised my head just a bit and ordered me to put my tongue to him. As I did, Dick looked up to confirm it was I who was forced to desecrate his helpless body, and once he saw this he let out a mighty groan of anguish, then collapsed his head back down out of my sight. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I tasted his manly sweat, his incredible strength and even his tormenting pain, as my tongue delicately massaged the skin and further saturated the belly hairs. This part of his body had taken a horrendous amount of punishment - punches, foot stomps and even the abdominal claw - yet, I could still feel the solid muscle underneath, stretched and flexed to defend his innards. The unyielding power of the man brought sensations to me never known before, but just as I was beginning to lose myself in this undefined stimulation, my head was brutally yanked upwards and shifted to his crotch, where my nose was soon buried into the briny smell of his masculine pubic hairs. With my lips pressed against the flaccid penis, they mockingly turned my head side to side, forcing my nose to inhale the smell of a beaten man. In the distance, I heard taunting words, as the other wrestlers ordered me to suck the man's dick. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They pressed my face down harder and harder onto his pelvis, so I took the organ into my mouth, mainly for fear of crushing the precious gonads beneath it. Once his tool was engulfed, another newfound sensation overwhelmed me. It was as though every character trait, every powerful muscle and every facet of what made him a man had been concentrated into this singular body part. The essence of Dick Hodges was buried inside my mouth and I began to worship him with an enthusiasm worthy of the years of pent up yearning I had kept hidden inside.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">All this time, I thought I had admired him as the supreme athlete - as the bastion of the sport I loved, but my affection for him was much deeper than this. Not until his mighty phallus was under my control did I realize what he truly meant to me. Because of this, I was oblivious to everything else surrounding me - the taunting wrestlers, the screaming crowd, the cruelly complacent referee and other officials - they all disappeared, leaving only myself and Dick Hodges in the center of that ring. As his cock began reacting to my touch, I sensed that Dick also was losing himself in our newfound connection. His penis grew to full strength and seemed to reverberate with a masculine power befitting the man himself. He fulfilled my every desire of what a man should be and I accordingly praised his incredible cock with a gusto worthy of him. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My reward was an amazing explosion of manly semen, and even though it was my first experience at receiving such a gift, I greedily gulped and inhaled every single drop into my throat, then transferred it down to my gut. Reluctant for the moment to end, I continued slavishly servicing his tool even after its contractions had stopped, until I was ruthlessly pulled off of him and thrown over the top rope to crash on the floor below, which is the last I remember of that event. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When I awoke, the arena was empty - except for Dick Hodges. He laid prone in the center of the ring, still naked with chest up and limbs sprawled. I stood hypnotized, gazing at him. His eyes were closed, as the mighty chest would rise to inhale oxygen, then fall to the dual sounds of a wheeze and a moan. This was a tragic scene. What once was an amazingly skilled and perfectly tuned wrestling machine had been reduced to a battered, bloodied shell of a man. How badly he was injured I could not tell, but to think that nobody cared enough about him to find out sickened me beyond description. All the wrestlers he thought were friends, all the fans who once adored him, even those who didn't care one way or the other, all had left him there to rot - the carcass of wrestling's past, thoroughly stripped of everything and wasting away in the ring he called home. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The "Loser Leaves Town" match had ended and Dick Hodges had lost - right or wrong, fair or unfair, he had lost - not only the contest, but everything that mattered to him. There was one thing, however, that he had not lost - me. I was his ring boy and had been since the early days of his professional career in Enid, Oklahoma. From the moment I heard his name announced and he entered the ring for the first time, I knew this man was something special. Fresh out of college (where he had won the state championship for his weight class the past two years) and the 1960 Olympics (where he had medalled the silver), he reinforced my awe of him with a cat-like quickness, coupled with a naturally powerful strength that rendered his first opponent a quivering rag, begging for mercy. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges seldom won his matches by pinning a man, but rather by forcing him to submit to his expertly applied nelsons, scissors, joint locks and sleepers. He was poetry in motion and with each of his matches I had the pleasure to witness, my admiration for him grew by leaps and bounds, until I found myself wishing to somehow be a part of his world. Even though I had just graduated high school and planned to attend college myself in the fall, I wanted to follow him up his rapid ladder to success. Once I finally got to meet him in person, my knowledge of both the history and the science of wrestling convinced him that I could be an asset. We immediately connected in our conversations about the sport and when I made the suggestion that he should employ an assistant - namely me - he agreed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My summer fling soon became an obsession and the plans for college were postponed. I found myself instead learning all about the male physique, so that I could help him keep his body in top-notch condition. I read every book and magazine article I could find in order to educate myself. My responsibilities went from securing his robe during the matches, to rubbing down his muscles both after and before events. Plus, I taught myself the inner workings of joints and ligaments, along with whatever sorts of salves, vitamins, oils and ointments worked best to keep him limber and feeling 100 percent. I also became a sort of buffer zone between him and his sometimes overly enthusiastic fans, screening his mail and those who wished to meet him in person. My knowledge grew, as did our friendship, while promoters moved him from Enid, to the Kansas City, Missouri circuit and then, finally, the Mecca of all professional wrestlers - Chicago, Illinois and the lucrative television market there. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges's mercurial rise to the top brought him one of the highest salaries in professional wrestling at that time, and true to his word, he now paid me the same percentage from these lucrative paychecks as he had from the paltry ones back in Enid. Regardless of his success, Dick Hodges had remained loyal to me and I in turn was devoted to him, so I stepped up and into the ring knowing full well that I was all he had left in this world. In one evening, everything we had worked so hard to achieve had come crashing down with a mighty thud. Kneeling beside him, I fought back tears that welled up from the sight of his bloodied face and pectorals, plus the quickly-forming bruises that painted his chest and belly. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hey, Dick," I clutched his jaw and gently shook his head. "Can you hear me? It's Jimmy."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">His eyes opened and a minuscule smile of recognition appeared. "It's bad, Jimmy."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Don't move. I'll be right back."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Quickly, I left the ring to retrieve his robe, then returned to gather the wrestling attire which had been stripped from him and scattered about the mat. After bundling everything inside the robe, I again knelt beside him.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Do you think you can sit up?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'll try."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He brought the arms forward and placed the palms of his hands onto the mat, then with my help, he flexed the pulverized belly muscles and rose to sit upright. After a few minutes, I had him on his feet and we began the long trek to the locker room.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Forget that shit, Jimmy. Leave it here. I won't be needing it."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sadly, I dropped the bundled equipment and used all my strength to support him. With one arm draped over my shoulder, this broken man staggered down the steps to the arena floor, then up the aisle to where his clothes awaited. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After I dressed him, we left the arena for the final time and Dick Hodges was driven to the hospital, where he would remain until the doctors gave their approval for his release. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I stayed with him nearly 24 hours a day, sleeping on a cot right there in his room. Turns out that he was just as tough on the inside as on the out, because even though the pictures showed bruises to his spleen, stomach and one kidney, there was no serious internal damage that couldn't be mended with time. The external blood had come from cuts to his forehead and chest, while most of the blood that had spewed from his mouth with each crushing belly flop and stomp to his gut had come from cuts made by his own teeth - the result of fists and boots delivered to the man's jaw. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The first two days were the hardest, as the cuts were bandaged and fluids used to help filter out the internal bleeding. He urinated red countless times in the bottles provided and since I was usually the one to position those bottles for him, my optimism increased as each evacuation produced less red and more yellow. He slept through most of this both night and day, while I sat silently reflecting on what had happened to him and wondering what the future might bring. As for my cot, I found it nearly impossible to sleep there - not so much from the discomfort, but because I couldn't force my brain to shut down. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A singular thought - a curiosity - kept spinning inside: what would be said about the event in the ring? How would the oral service I was forced to inflict upon him affect our friendship? Would it be ignored, as though it never happened and the sensations never took place? Or would he see me from a perspective of hatred - as a reminder of the humiliation he must have felt? Very few words had been spoken between us, but of course he was heavily sedated, drifting in and out of sleep during these first days. Then, on the sixth night, he stirred me from my cot.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Jimmy?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Already wide awake, I immediately responded, "I'm here, Dick."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Come here."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I stepped to his bedside. The dim light from the exterior window cast a pale shadow upon him and I could see that he had lifted the hospital gown to expose his full-on erection. Without a word, I placed my hand on his engorged cock and lightly squeezed, which produced a slight moan of acceptance - the signal to move forward. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The door was already closed and I checked my watch to find that it would be another 20 minutes before the next scheduled nurse visit, so without hesitation I leaned down and took his organ into my mouth. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I heard him whisper, "Don't ever leave me, Jimmy," and with what seemed no more than a dozen strokes, he produced an even and steady flow of semen, tinged with the slight taste of blood. I eagerly ingested every drop. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After releasing him from my mouth, I wet a washcloth to remove the spit, then covered his genitals once more underneath the gown. "I'm not going anywhere. You'll have to chase me away."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The mending of Dick Hodges had taken a major step forward, as had our friendship.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">next part next weekend</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-67431553005756995972015-10-25T23:14:00.000-05:002015-10-25T23:14:04.344-05:00Man of Black and White (final)<span style="font-size: large;">Aftermath </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There was no applause or cheering when the torture of Dick Hodges was finally ended. The three brutes did not solicit the crowd's approval or derision. They merely exited the ring and headed for the locker room, followed closely by the worthless referee and MC. Whatever arrangements had been made, whether monetary or simply mutual agreement, their goal had been achieved. Dick Hodges was no more. Professional wrestling as a legitimate, sporting contest was no more. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As the fans slowly filtered out of the arena, those close enough threw their paper cups and other trash at their former hero, who still laid motionless on his back in the center of the ring. The remnants of wrestling's past was now stripped, humiliated and defeated before them, but they seemed satisfied with this result. Wrestling had become a new and exciting entertainment for them. Now everyone knew the matches would be pre-scripted, while the drama would come from bold and exciting new ways to see men beaten senseless. The old guard, true wrestling fans were gone forever, to be replaced by a more youthful, thrill-seeking crowd who yearned for passion plays of violence and brutality - people who had tasted blood and savored it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The owner received a phone call from the MC, filling him in on the events of the evening. Initially, he was angry about what had transpired in his absence, but soon got a second phone call that changed his mood. It was from the TV producer. They had been flooded with calls from people who wanted to know how the match had ended and soon all of Chicago, plus the other cities where the broadcast had been seen, were abuzz about the wrestling game. When the overnight ratings came in, the results were through the roof and so subsequently, a new formula was inserted for the TV broadcasts. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Each week a new group of patsies was sacrificed for slaughter in the ring. The bad guys were now good guys, inventing ever more innovative methods to beat down, humiliate and destroy their opponents week after week. It was as though the ancient gladiatorial games had been reborn, but now it was called wrestling. The arena was sold out every night weeks in advance and television stations all over the world clamored to pick up rights to the broadcasts. The owner became a very wealthy man. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The "Loser Leaves Town Challenge Match" was a watershed moment in the history of professional wrestling. Because of this match, many years later Steve Austin would be displayed in a staged crucifixion to promote a pay-per-view event. Because of this match, Val Venus would be attacked in the locker room by a gang of men, then suspended by the wrists, stripped naked and terrorized, as his penis (pixeled out, of course) was sliced off with a sword in another mock scene of absurd theater. Because of this match, Bret Hart would not only be taken away on a stretcher, but attacked again by the same man who had injured him in the first place - this time in the ambulance taking him to the hospital. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That night, nobody could have predicted how professional wrestling would evolve into what it is today - a scripted, lavishly produced entertainment of drama, sex and comedy, which can take place in the ring or any number of places outside the ring or even outside the building where the event is held - but Dick Hodges' last stand set the foundation for all of it. The crowd's reaction and subsequent enthusiasm told the promoters all they needed to know and a multi-million dollar industry was born. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When poor Jimmy was finally able to pull himself up to the ring floor what he saw was a pitiful sight. His idol's naked body was battered, bruised and bloodied. Somehow, Jimmy was mesmerized by this. The poor man had been ruthlessly beaten for over two hours, stripped of his clothing and dignity, forced to have orgasm against his will in front of hundreds of people. Dick Hodges had lost everything - the fans he thought adored him, the wrestlers he thought were his friends, even Jimmy, his devoted assistant, all had participated in the total destruction and humiliation of this magnificent man. Now, his broken carcass lay limp - a shell of what once was. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And yet, Jimmy saw beauty in this tragic scene. His hero had endured unspeakable torture and degradation, but had never given in. They had beaten and drained him until his strength was gone, but his defiance had remained. Even though he lay naked, broken and abandoned in the center of the empty arena, in Jimmy's eyes, Dick Hodges was still magnificent. To him, Dick Hodges was the ultimate example of the human male - a man of principles and integrity, he had sacrificed his glorious, powerfully masculine body to these principles. Now, stripped of everything, Jimmy was all he had left in the world. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The ringside assistant began to gather his hero's clothes and bundle them inside the robe. As Hodges slowly regained strength, Jimmy helped him stagger naked to the empty locker room, where he lovingly dressed the man in his street attire and then they left the arena for the last time. Jimmy drove his friend to the hospital and stayed at the fallen man's bedside for every hour of his recovery period. No visitors came. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges faded into history with the likes of Dale Lewis and Patrick O'Connor, true wrestlers who were no longer wanted. Occasionally, he would pick up odd jobs around the country by tutoring high school students who wanted to learn the scientific art of wrestling, but Hodges himself never entered the ring again. Jimmy was with him until the end. Dick Hodges would forever be his hero and Jimmy would always be his ringside assistant. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
The End<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-74851681653185593942015-10-18T21:12:00.004-05:002015-10-18T21:12:45.802-05:00Man of Black and White (encore part 2)<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The time had come. These wrestlers would now prove what they already suspected. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Shirtless Jimmy's arms were held behind his back and he was brought towards the center of the ring. Forcing him to kneel between his hero's stretched thighs, they grabbed Jimmy by the hair and shoved his face into the tortured wrestler's belly. Then they ordered Jimmy to lick it. He slowly placed his tongue into the man's navel and began leaving trails of saliva on the flattened muscles around it. Hodges looked up over his chest to watch the humiliation of his friend, then lowered it, wanting to see no more. Jimmy tasted the briny sweat coating the man's skin and felt the power underneath, while concentrating on the trail of fur that connected his idol's belly button to the pubic hair, leaving tiny beads of spit mixed with the manly sweat.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The belly worship was suddenly interrupted, as Jimmy's face was cruelly rammed into Hodges' crotch. They demanded that he suck this man's dick. His nose was buried into the pubic hair and lips pressed against the flaccid penis.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hodges flexed when he felt his manhood being touched, but didn't bother to look up, because what he heard told him all he needed to know. Jimmy was being verbally taunted by the sadistic bastards, as his head was maliciously turned from side to side and face ground into Hodges' sweaty pubic hair and spongy cock. They began to chant for Jimmy to suck it... suck it... suck it. The pathetic fans soon joined in the chant to further antagonize poor Jimmy and his tormented hero. Suck it... suck it... SUCK IT! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Reluctantly, he engulfed the prone wrestler's penis into his mouth and began to work his tongue around the head of the organ. The helpless man groaned at Jimmy's forced worship of his manhood, as it seemed unimaginable to him that this could be happening in front of all these people. How could it be that not one person in the entire arena was outraged enough to stop this obscenity? He cried out for someone - anyone to help him and his friend, but his pleadings went unanswered. The referee, the MC, the people in the stands and even some of the wrestlers themselves, all were silently mesmerized by the unbelievable proceedings in the center of the ring. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jimmy slowly began to realize why he had idolized this man for so long. Subconscious thoughts that he had kept suppressed for years began bubbling to the surface and as the tortured man's unit began to grow larger, Jimmy's excitement also grew. He could feel the incredible power that he had so long admired. The strength, the defiance, the masculinity, all were being summoned from the furthest reaches of the man's body. From the manly feet, the ruggedly handsome face, even the powerfully thick hands and hair-covered, muscular forearms, the essence of Dick Hodges was now rushing to one place and Jimmy could feel the power of it. Every quality that he adored, every trait that he worshiped was now concentrated into this man's magnificent penis. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jimmy increased the intensity, as what he had always secretly dreamed became a reality. His tongue now began attacking the head of his hero's cock each time he brought the moistened lips to the end of the unit. Taking his mouth back to the base, Jimmy tried to engulf the fully erect organ down his throat. The very being of Dick Hodges was under his control and he wanted all of it. Jimmy was now oblivious to those surrounding him, because he was totally focused on one goal, and that was to take Dick Hodges to a place he had never known. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hodges was flexing as Jimmy's enthusiasm grew. He no longer could feel the pain of his tortured body, because the entire focus of the nervous system had been channeled to one specific place. What he was feeling in his penis had never been experienced before - not like this. The revelations that had overwhelmed Jimmy were being transferred to the sensitive organ of this man and Hodges absorbed it. He too was oblivious to everything and everyone - except for Jimmy. This was no blow job, but something divine, something that traveled far beyond hero-worship. Jimmy was taking him somewhere unknown before to either of them and he transferred what he felt back to Jimmy, making his mighty cock grow harder, longer and more powerful than it had ever been before. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jimmy shook when he felt the reverberations being sent to him. Now he knew - Dick Hodges was everything he had ever hoped he would be. They had discovered one another. He frantically attacked the man's dick to increase the tempo and all he could hear were sounds of ecstasy, moans and groans coming from the center of the ring, as the naked hero was lovingly serviced by his ringside assistant. Hodges flexed every muscle in his powerful body and the mighty cock recoiled to fire its seed into Jimmy's mouth. One huge gob of semen after another came rushing out as the young man continued sucking him with an uncontrolled gusto. Years of subconscious yearning came rushing up Dick Hodges' shaft and Jimmy eagerly received every spurt of this man's fluid, frantically swallowing again and again, wishing it would never end. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, Hodges was totally spent. He emitted guttural exclamations of pain and pleasure as Jimmy continued to suck on him long after the orgasm was finished. The constant attack on the sensitive head of his penis caused him to writhe and twitch his beaten down body, but soon the wrestlers had seen enough and they pulled Jimmy away, casting him over the top rope and crashing to the floor. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hodges' body collapsed as he was at last released from this incredible oral praise. The orgasm and aftermath had taken what few ounces of strength he had left and now the realization of his battered, broken body began to return. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As the crowd remained in a mesmerized silence, he was lifted up by the wrestlers holding his four limbs and they began pulling in four directions. Killer Manjaro rolled out from underneath him, while Hodges howled in agony - his naked body now horizontally suspended and quartered, stretched in mid-air. Simultaneously, they released the man and sent him crashing to the mat flat on his back. One by one they began to exit the ring, each stopping along the way for one final, revenge-filled stomp onto either the chest or belly, but Hodges did not even react to this. The strength was gone - energy drained to the point that neither his arms nor legs could be lifted to defend the battered torso. This once glorious, powerfully compact and masculine form was abandoned - now by the very man to which it belonged - to absorb every ruthless blow, until their lust for vengeance was finally exhausted. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Soon the ring held only the five. Hodges lay naked and spread eagled in the center of the ring - eyes closed; pitiful groans drifting up from the twisted mouth; mighty chest heaving majestically into the air; flattened belly rising and falling at a torturous pace - as the referee stood silently in the corner, where he had remained during this entire abomination. Now Bucksaw waved him over. Khan pinned Hodges' ankles, Manjaro his wrists. Bucksaw stepped up onto the chest with his crushing logger boots and the referee counted slowly. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One... two... three. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">final post in a week</span><br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-79004856030015480162015-10-11T23:07:00.003-05:002015-10-11T23:09:08.657-05:00Man of Black and White (encore part 1)<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The cameramen, producer and announcers started packing up their gear to leave. They were union members and, as far as they were concerned their shift was finished and the match over. The MC pleaded with them to continue the broadcast, but they refused and headed for the locker rooms, soon to exit the building. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, Kruil Li Khan, Bucksaw Jones and Killer Manjaro were uninterested in the TV broadcast, but instead were furious that Dick Hodges had survived their tortures, so they all three began stomping his body into the mat. Oblivious to this, the referee conferred with the MC to decide what should happen next. With the fans nearly in riot-mode, these two men were a bit nervous about what might take place if this match was left undecided, so with a fermenting and dangerous situation surrounding them, a decision was made and the referee signaled the timekeeper to ring the bell. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With his public address microphone in hand, the MC made the announcement, "Ladies and gentlemen, this match will continue!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A huge celebration erupted in the stands, while the brutes lifted the broken man by his arms and dragged him to one side of the ring. First, they stood him up on the mat outside the ropes, then, locking his limp arms between the top and second ropes, they kicked his legs off of the mat and left him suspended on the outside of the ring as though crucified. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now a chair was brought and placed in front of the victim, as the audience strained to see what was happening on that side of the ring. Killer Manjaro stepped up onto the chair and reached into his loin wrapping. The mysterious object was soon in his right hand and he began pounding on the man's forehead, while Bucksaw and Khan each held an ankle and pulled down to increase the agony of Hodges' stretching. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The image truly did resemble that of a Roman crucifixion. After three blows from Manjaro, blood began to trickle from the forehead and corners of Hodges' mouth. Adding to the drama, the victim's trunks (still lowered to just above his genitals) resembled a black loin cloth from all the classic paintings depicting this torture, while Hodges' labored breath and horrendous stretching caused him to moan in agony, which completed the picture of this tragic spectacle. The crowd was in awe, as this powerfully masculine form was mercilessly crucified right before their very eyes. Bathed in sweat, his gloriously defined muscles flexed, stretched and highlighted, Dick Hodges was now subjected to the ultimate punishment and - just as the Romans would have done in preparation for this sentence - the victim had been beaten down and tormented for hours, rendering his body a useless rag before this final agony was perpetrated upon him. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But he was not a useless rag - not yet. Although at their mercy, he continued to defy them. He strained against the ropes and clasping of his ankles, which only further enhanced his manly form. The chest heaved and expanded, while the belly caved in to highlight every masculine curve, ridge and muscle. Not even the brutal pounding of the loaded fist onto his forehead could sway him to concede defeat. Despite this relentless and agonizing torture, Dick Hodges refused to be broken, instead taking his punishment as though he were an indestructible force. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jimmy had now recovered and he slowly staggered towards the tortured wrestler to see the crazed African beating on his forehead. The channels of crimson now trickled down from the face, past the neck and onto Hodges' battered pectorals. Jimmy wrapped his arms around the maniacal beast's massive leg and tried to pull him down from the chair, but Manjaro easily kicked aside this annoying interruption. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The sight of fresh blood whipped the crowd into a frenzy and they began taunting the stricken man, just as would have been done in days of old. The National Guard Armory Arena in Chicago had become the Colosseum of ancient Rome. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As Manjaro tired of the beating and paused to rest, some of the other wrestlers came down the aisle from the locker room to a chorus of boos from the crowd. Finally, someone was going to end this pitiful man's suffering. They all stood before the crucified victim, while Hodges forced a smile of relief, his labored breath increasing as the crucifixion slowly began to suffocate him. Rescue had come at last. He flexed his mighty chest and scowled in defiance at Manjaro, who still stood on the chair in front of him, panting with exhaustion. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly, the other wrestlers began to taunt and spit on the crucified man. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, well, look at the tough guy."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Some even threw punches into his gut, as the three brutes and the rest of the crowd watched in amazement. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Think you're mister wonderful, do ya? Slater ain't here to protect you now."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They released years of the pent-up frustration they had felt from having to play second fiddle to the owner's favorite. Seeing him helplessly displayed before them, they now unleashed their anger with cruel words and punches, as Bucksaw and Khan continued to torture him in their make-shift crucifixion. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The fans roared their approval, while Jimmy forced his way through the wrestlers to stand between them and his tortured hero, but the brutes immediately pounced on him, tossing the young man into the ring and ripping off his shirt in the process. Soon he was pinned in the corner by one of the wrestlers, his frail body standing and crushed between the turnbuckle and massive backside of his captor. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After the men had satisfied their appetite for revenge, preparations were made for returning him to the ring. Khan and Bucksaw released him from the ring rope torture and the others lifted him up and over the top rope. While they held him steady, Manjaro was coaxed to lay in the center of the ring face up and fold his arms across his chest, then four wrestlers grabbed four limbs and lifted Hodges into the air. They turned his body until it was parallel with Manjaro's and laid him on top of the 400 pound mountain. Pulling him in four directions, they stretched the man as tight as possible, then brought his wrists and ankles down, pinning them to the mat. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Stretched spread-eagle and face up with four limbs held by four men, raised from underneath by the 400 pound slab of meat Manjaro, massive African forearms pressed against his back, Dick Hodges was again cruelly displayed for everyone in the arena to see. His majestic, but bloodied chest rose high into the air, while the muscular belly was dramatically caved in and gasping for air.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Still crunched into the corner turnbuckle, Jimmy looked at his idol's tormented body, as it was mercilessly pulled apart in four directions. He begged the wrestler securing him to show mercy for this beaten down man, but was greeted only with taunting laughter. There would be no end to his suffering until he conceded his defeat, something which Jimmy knew would never happen. These men, like the three who started this atrocity, wanted Dick Hodges gone forever and since the other three couldn't get the job done, they were ready to do it themselves. If torturing him with pain didn't work, perhaps something else might persuade him, so they waved Khan and Bucksaw aside, then prepared Dick Hodges for their plan of attack. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The audience watched in stunned silence, as the other wrestlers began to unlace Hodges boots and remove them from his feet. Next came the socks. After his feet were brought close together, someone grabbed the helpless man's trunks to pull them past his ankles and the jock strap soon followed. Unwilling to surrender to the relentless beatings, Dick Hodges was now stripped, shamed and humiliated before the throngs gazing to the center of the ring. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The remaining wrestlers strutted about the ring and solicited the crowd's approval. Some held their hands to their ears, asking the crowd to participate in this man's degradation, which they did with a crazed enthusiasm. These fans loved the spectacle being presented before them and a deafening roar reverberated throughout the arena, while many were signaling the thumbs-down as though they were Roman emperors, screaming for more blood, more punishment, more humiliation. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hodges turned his head from side to side, scrutinizing the bloodthirsty crowd and all those in the ring surrounding him. He had been betrayed by all of the wrestlers he thought were friends and abandoned by all of his fans save one. Thirteen men had descended upon him and all hope for rescue was lost. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He raised his head to scan what he could see. Anger rose up in him as he saw the sweat, the blood, the ruthless fans, the stalking wrestlers and worst of all, his precious genitalia, exposed for all to ogle. He furiously strained every beaten down muscle to break free of his tormentors. With his powerful chest expanded and lower jaw jutting forward, he gallantly struggled with all his might to escape them in yet another display of manly strength and resolve. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This caused the wrestlers and fans alike to mock and jeer at him, as the sight of this helpless man straining to break free filled them with a sadistic cruelty, as though he were some sort of captured enemy, no longer a threat, but kept alive merely for their entertainment. Taunting phrases could be heard, such as "Look at Dick's dick" and "He's just a weenie, now," but suddenly, all ridicule stopped. The left ankle escaped from the man holding it and Hodges immediately kicked that man in the face, sending him to tumble towards the ropes. Then he planted his bare foot onto the mat and tried to leverage his other limbs loose, twisting his body to the right with all his strength. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The scene was heartbreaking. Despite the brutal beatings; despite the damaged organs inside that powerful, but hopelessly racked body; despite having been punched, crushed, kicked and relentlessly tortured for hours, somehow this amazing man was able to launch one final, desperate attempt to escape his tormentors - to thwart their plans for his ultimate degradation. It was useless. The other wrestlers immediately pounced on him. Two grabbed hold to re-pin his ankle and spread the legs wide apart, while the others ruthlessly attacked with not only stomps and kicks to his vulnerable chest, but also devastating punches to his stretched and flattened belly - until he struggled against them no more. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now all was lost. His futile attempt to escape had been a monumental effort, but again he lay exhausted and pinned in their torture rack. Gasping for air, trails of blood painted onto his face and chest, this broken man now awaited his fate. Dick Hodges had made his last stand. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Encore part 2 in a week</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-36420604428996992922015-10-05T01:50:00.002-05:002015-10-05T01:51:08.278-05:00Man of Black and White (Rd 3)<span style="font-size: large;">Round 3 </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jimmy rushed into the ring to help his fallen hero, pitifully struggling to drag the wrestler back to his corner. Somehow, Hodges managed to crawl that direction and Jimmy helped him onto the stool, where he immediately began massaging his idol's pulverized chest and belly. In a dazed stupor, Hodges sat there gasping for air, while the audience watched, most of them figuring that he was finished - maybe not yet - but soon, because Round 3 would introduce a third opponent for him to deal with. Surely this daunting task would be too much. After all he had suffered, how could he possibly take on three at once? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, the TV announcers were in a quandary. Their producer was worried that the brutality of the match was getting too heavy, so they signaled the MC over and explained the situation to him. He in turn stepped into the ring to approach Bucksaw and Khan. "Get this over with quick. Just go ahead and pin him, because the TV people are getting nervous." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He decided to get the third man into the ring so that everybody would be ready to start as soon as the TV advertisements were over. Returning to the center of the mat, he announced the next wrestler. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ladies and gentleman, this is the third and deciding round. The loser of this round must leave Chicagoland forever! Presenting to you, weighing in at over 400 pounds, from the darkest depths of Africa, the immovable object, Mount Killer Manjaro!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And what was this man's claim to fame? He was huge - not only huge, but also fat. He spoke no English. He wore only a brownish buckskin wrapping around his loins. Not one opponent had ever knocked him off of his big, nasty feet. Quite simply, he crushed people. If an opponent ever got trapped in a corner turnbuckle or flat on the mat, the outcome was inevitable - but that would never be enough, because this mammoth always brought a mysterious object with him that would be hidden in his loin wrapping. Placing this object into his enormous hand, he would pound the opponent's head until the victim was unconscious - and this always occurred after the match was over. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The audience was now subdued. They had no idea what would happen next, but they all stood to anticipate something exciting - something never before witnessed. The lights on the TV cameras came back on and the live broadcast was resumed, but as the bell sounded to begin Round 3, Dick Hodges collapsed off of his stool and onto the mat face up. Jimmy ran to kneel beside his fallen hero, massaging the chest in an attempt to rally him, but it was useless.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He turned to the referee and pleaded with him to stop the match. Jimmy tried to declare a forfeit, which would allow the three opponents to win, but at least prevent the man's body from further damage. This referee would have none of that, explaining that by rule only Hodges himself could forfeit the match. It was the first time throughout the entire ordeal that the rule book had actually been enforced, which only added to the insult and injustice of this absurd drama. The referee obviously had agreed to do everything in his power to help these three monsters and even though it was now clear that they no longer needed his help, he certainly had no intentions of stepping in to stop the massacre of this beaten down man. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Khan grabbed poor Jimmy by the throat and lifted him high into the air, then casually tossed him over the top rope and down to the floor, where he banged his head and lay unconscious. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">By this time, Hodges had summoned enough strength to roll over and rise to his knees. Seeing Killer Manjaro approach with both arms raised, Hodges reached up in desparation to punch the beast in the groin with an uppercut. Manjaro bent over in pain, as Hodges moved his hand under the loin wrapping and grabbed the behemoth's bare testicles, crushing them in his powerful fist. For the first time in his career, Mount Killer Manjaro fell to the mat, uttering wild animal screams as he crashed down like a bullet-stricken hippo. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges' domination of Manjaro lasted but 15 seconds, however, because Khan and Bucksaw simultaneously pounced on him with kicks, fists and forearms, forcing him to release the crushing gonad grip. While Manjaro rolled around the mat in agony, Khan and Bucksaw played tag with Hodges' battered body. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Khan stood him up, then Bucksaw landed a fist to the forehead, turned the victim around and pushed him towards Khan. The giant greeted Hodges with a kick to the belly, which bent him over. Then Khan lifted his knee and planted it into the victim's jaw, causing him to crash onto the mat flat on his back. Now he picked the wrestler up and sent him staggering back to Bucksaw, who landed a devastating kick to the center of Hodges' chest. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The dazed wrestler stood there teetering on the brink of collapse, until Bucksaw grabbed the man's arm and slingshot him towards Khan, who leapt into the air and delivered a devastating side drop kick, one size 14 boot landing on Hodges' chest, the other into his gut. The hapless man staggered backwards and received another drop kick from Bucksaw directly to the middle of his back. Finally, they allowed Dick Hodges to collapse face first to the mat in the center of the ring. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">By this time, Killer Manjaro had risen to his feet and was ready for revenge, so Kruil Li Khan rolled Hodges over onto his back, then grabbed the man by his wrists. Placing each of his boots onto Hodges' shoulders, he leaned back and fell to his seat on the mat, bringing the arms with him. Meanwhile, Bucksaw Jones spread the ankles three feet apart and pinned them to the mat with his enormous hands. Exposed face up in the center of the ring, Hodges began to moan as they pulled his limbs in opposite directions, torturing him in their make-shift stretch rack. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Bucksaw and Khan had no intentions of following the MC's instructions. They were consumed with anger at Dick Hodges' continued defiance of them and their only concern now was to punish this man, until he fought them no more. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Killer Manjaro approached. He leapt straight up into the air and came crashing down with both feet - 400 pounds landing onto Hodges' stretched middle section. Launching himself from the man's helpless body, the tub of lard jumped up and down, repeatedly crushing Hodges' already pulverized abdomen. The tortured man intermingled guttural grunts with sprays of saliva and blood, as the organs in his lower abdomen were brutally crushed. Continuing his leaps, the African landed with one foot in the pit of the stomach and the other on the chest, while Bucksaw and Khan relentlessly pulled Hodges apart.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As for the audience, the tide had turned. All thoughts of fair play had long ago disappeared and those few remaining purists who were disgusted by the injustice they were witnessing sat there in a daze, unwilling to believe their eyes. They saw no "sport" in the ruthless beating of a helpless man, but somehow could not bring themselves to look away or simply leave the arena. Surrounded by jubilant, screaming-for-more-punishment spectators, they knew the sport they loved was being replaced by something new - something they desired to see play out, regardless of how revolting the scenario might be to them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Whether revolting, tragic or maybe even stimulating, the scene inside the ring was becoming more and more intense. The stomping had ended and as Manjaro stepped back to admire his work, a huge roar of approval came from the crowd. Dick Hodges gasped for air, his chest and belly rising and falling at a rapid pace, while Khan and Bucksaw continued his merciless stretching. The tortured man turned his head to gaze at the audience and what he saw nearly brought tears to him, because a large portion was now cheering and shouting their approval. How quickly they had turned against him. Already writhing in agony from the pounding his body had taken, now his spirit also was under attack. He had made a grave error in his judgment of these wrestling fans and at that moment he nearly gave up everything - his beliefs in what was right and what was wrong; his faith in the overall goodness of human kind - but just as he was ready to concede defeat and submit to his tormentors, his eyes locked onto those of a father and son about four rows back. Both were crying, as the father clutched the boy in his arms to protect him from the frenzied crowd surrounding them. Hodges could see the boy's lips screaming the words, "C'mon... fight'em, Dick," and with one uncontrolled burst of rage, Dick Hodges yanked both ankles and wrists free from the grips of his tormentors. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With cat-like swiftness, he swung the right leg up and kicked Bucksaw in the side of the head, then continued to roll and spring to an upright position with his arms. Another kick was delivered to the center of Khan's chest, which sent him rolling backwards towards the edge of the ring. Before Manjaro could react to what had happened, Hodges landed a solid right to the mammoth's jaw, then another and another, as he staggered backwards to bounce against the ropes and return to meet one last tremendous blow, which sent him crashing face down onto the mat. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then, the sickening sound of metal striking bone echoed from the ring. It was the chair. This time, Khan had delivered the foul instrument onto the back of the man's head and he immediately fell to his knees with eyes cast to the ceiling, then collapsed once more onto his back, dazed and nearly unconscious. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was the end. The father and son, as well as the remaining fans who loved Dick Hodges could take no more. They left the arena forever, unable to stomach the sight of this merciless mugging. He now was abandoned to the enraged mob who wanted to see Manjaro finish the "good guy" forever and throughout the arena there was a strange atmosphere of anticipation - of witnessing an unknown. The stage was set and a chant began to ring out from the back walls of the arena. "Crush, crush, crush, crush." The volume began to grow as more joined in. "Crush, crush, crush, crush!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Killer Manjaro heard the buzz and had learned from previous matches what it meant. He had heard it before in all of his bouts, but never this loud. Hodges also heard. The fans wanted to see Manjoro's patented, crushing belly flop delivered to a helpless man being stretched before them. Happy to oblige, Khan and Bucksaw grabbed Hodges by the wrists and ankles to drag him towards the corner and once again stretch him on their rack. With the victim's body and the corner of the ring forming a triangle, Manjaro began to climb the ropes in preparation for his belly flop onto the helpless man. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As the fans continued their chant to "crush," Manjaro reached the top and stood facing them. He raised his hands high, but just as he was about to launch himself into the air and down onto the victim, someone shook the top rope, which caused the behemoth to lose balance. Unable to recover, he looked to the left and saw Jimmy, then swayed to the right and crashed down to the floor below. Manjaro writhed in agony from the impact of his own weight landing on the hard surface, while Khan and Bucksaw released Hodges from their grip and stalked the ringside assistant. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He leapt to the floor and ran to the other side of the ring. Bucksaw gave chase with Khan close behind him and they forced Jimmy to circle to the third side, then the fourth, where he was greeted by the hammering fist of Killer Manjaro. The blow sent him flying backwards and down flat on his back. Once again, Jimmy lay unconscious below the ring. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Seeing the frail and puny body of this young man flying through the air only further excited the crowd. They resumed their chant to "crush" and the three brutes returned to where they had been before the interruption. Hodges, still dazed from the blow to his head, was again ruthlessly stretched and presented to the African giant. Manjaro climbed the ropes, then leapt back from the turnbuckle and came crashing down onto the man's chest and abdomen with his own. A crimson plume of spit and blood spewed up from the victim's mouth as his vulnerable innards were crushed by the 400 pound belly flop. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The merciless fans continued to chant, as Manjaro again climbed the ropes. Hodges raised his head and shook it side to side, then pulled with all his strength to break out of the make-shift stretch rack, but it was useless. All he could do was helplessly watch as Manjaro launched himself from the top turnbuckle, this time crashing down with his greasy buttocks onto the chest of Dick Hodges. With another ungodly red fountain spraying upwards, the tortured man's spit now resembled the final, bloody exhale one sees coming from the blow hole of a harpooned whale - the macabre signal that death is eminent. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Wildly cheering their approval, the crowd urged Manjaro to climb again, but the MC approached ringside and frantically motioned to Khan and Bucksaw, while pointing at his watch. The TV time was about to run out. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The two men released Hodges from their stretch rack and dragged him back to the center of the ring, leaving him to lie motionless and spread eagled. Only the rise and fall of his chest and belly was seen, while tormented moans wafted from the blood-stained mouth. He was finished. The moment everyone was waiting for had finally arrived and the crowd stood in silence, fully prepared to see Dick Hodges pinned, defeated and banished forever from the National Guard Armory Arena.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Khan waved Killer Manjaro over to finish the deed and the 400 pounder planted one nasty foot onto Hodges' chest, the other onto his belly and the referee counted. One... two... ... but the count never reached three. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges lifted his knees and pushed upwards with his powerful calves, sending Manjaro tumbling to the mat. This amazing man had kicked out! Khan, Bucksaw and every person in the arena were stunned. How did this beaten down man find the strength to jettison 400 pounds off of his battered body? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For a few seconds, the arena was silent, as every person there marveled at the amazing resolve of this tortured man, but even though you might think that this display would perhaps win them back to his side, you would be sadly mistaken. Sure, there were a few who saw the heroic strength, the masculine defiance as a rallying cry. They began to cheer the fallen man, while coaxing others to join them, but these attempts fell on deaf ears. The mob was no longer interested in heros. They were only interested in seeing heros destroyed. Soon, little by little, the support for Hodges was drowned out by a new chant and as others joined in the volume increased, until the arena was filled with the deafening din of, "Kill, kill, kill !"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Nothing would satisfy their bloodlust. They demanded the three brutes continue pounding the poor man into submission - or worse. They wanted nothing less than his utter defeat and destruction, but at that moment the TV time expired. The producer signaled to the announcers, who alerted the MC, who in turn told the time keeper to ring the bell, bringing an official end to Round 3. Mass confusion swept over the arena. How could the match be over with each side claiming one round of victory? Soon the TV cameras went dark and the announcers started switching off their microphones. The Saturday night "Wrestling at the Armory" television program had come to an end. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">next part in a week</span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-70819196268655099672015-09-28T13:40:00.000-05:002015-09-28T13:40:09.520-05:00Man of Black and White (Rd 2)<span style="font-size: large;">Round 2 </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Many in the audience were impressed by this powerful man. He had totally dominated the circuit since his arrival by brutally beating down opponents with his massive arms and fists. But most of the fans despised him. Even though his superior strength and size were more than enough to defeat inferior wrestlers, he would always pummel them with a metal chair when they were prone and defenseless on the mat. After he got bored with that he would finally pin and put them out of their misery. His brutality offended a majority of the crowd and they booed him loudly, as he stood in the ring dressed in his size 14 boots with full length black tights tucked inside, and flexed his powerful bare chest while sneering at the audience. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The bell rang and Hodges sprang from his stool. He took a flying leap at Khan and drove both feet into the man's chest. The force of the blow sent the giant against the ropes, where he teetered over the top rope before falling to the floor below, crashing face down with a mighty thud. Now Hodges ran towards Bucksaw and immediately got him in the ankle lock once again. The lumberjack tried to hold on, waiting and hoping for his partner to rescue him, as Hodges expertly twisted the ankle more and more. Screaming in agony, Bucksaw raised his hand to bang the mat and signal his submission when suddenly the ankle lock was released - the result of Khan having re-entered the ring to viciously whack Hodges across his broad back with a metal ringside chair. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The fans screamed in protest. Why wasn't Khan being disqualified and Hodges declared the winner? The referee silently stood in the corner and watched what was happening, but made no effort to interfere. Even though Jimmy frantically paced the floor and pleaded with the referee to disqualify Khan, the official merely smiled at him and shook his head. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges lay chest down in the center of the ring. He groggily pressed with the arms to lift his torso and rise to all fours, while Khan tossed the chair aside and ran towards the ropes. He bounced off them and headed for Hodges in a full sprint. Lifting his right leg on the final step, he planted the instep of his size 14 boot into Hodges' rib cage, a blow which sent the dazed wrestler three feet into the air and rolling towards the corner, coming to rest on his back. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now Khan stalked the prone man, grabbing both of his ankles and dragging him into the corner. Lifting Hodges up by the ankles, Khan draped the man's legs over the top rope, bending his knees over the rope on either side of the turnbuckle. Now he crossed and locked Hodges' ankles together, tucking them under a three foot long, woven steel cable. This cable horizontally connected the turnbuckle to its corresponding vertical steel post, one of four that supported the ring from the floor below. Hodges was now trapped. He was suspended upside down inside the corner of the ring, facing the center with his head six inches from the mat and forearms resting on it. He reached for the bottom rope one hand at a time and began to pull himself up, but Khan, who had left the ring and now was on the floor by the steel ring post, quickly grabbed Hodges' wrists and pulled the arms straight back towards the post, stretching them under the bottom rope outside the corner of the ring. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now it appeared as though Hodges was vertically frozen in a mid-air hand-spring flip. His arms were bent at the elbows and pulled back at the same angle of his legs, which were bent at the knees. His forearms and shins were all turned upwards towards the ceiling of the arena. Khan held the wrists close together, causing Hodges deltoids and laterals to expand and form an inverted "V" shape from the black trunks to his bushy armpits. His back was arched, as it was pressed against the padding of the bottom and middle turnbuckles, while his chest and abdomen jutted out towards the center of the ring, hopelessly vulnerable to attack. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Bucksaw was still hobbling around the ring, but soon approached the suspended man and planted the gridded sole of his right logger boot into the center of Hodges' chest. The devastating kick drove the air out of the wrestler's lungs and left an imprint on his sternum. Khan continued to pull harder on Hodges' arms, forcing his back to arch and chest to protrude more and more. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The fans screamed for the referee to stop the match. By the rules, Khan should have been counted out for being outside of the ropes for more than ten seconds, but this referee continued to stand in the distant corner, oblivious to the illegal tactics being used on the helpless wrestler. Jimmy also relentlessly pleaded with the referee to do his job and count out the Mongolian, but his protests fell on deaf ears. The audience members were beginning to suspect that some sort of arrangement had been made prior to the beginning of the match, while Jimmy was sure of it, for no other reason could explain this referee's blatant disregard for the rules. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Khan pulled with all his might and Hodges groaned in agony, flexing his torso to prepare for the next assault. Bucksaw's ankle was now fully recovered and he lumbered over to the opposite corner, turned to face Hodges, then ran at full sprint towards the bound man. Gaining speed, Bucksaw came at him like a freight train and leaped into the air to deliver a devastating drop kick with both logger boots, one crashing into Hodges' chest and the other pulverizing his stomach. This caused a spray of saliva to spew from his mouth, as the air was pounded out of him. Now Bucksaw stood before the poor man and lifted his right boot, then repeatedly pounded Hodges' chest, stomach and belly with the sole of his logger boot. One devastating stomp after another rained on the helpless man's exposed chest and abdominal muscles, as Hodges groaned and grunted from this brutal punishment. Little red circles began to cover the front of Hodges' torso, imprints left behind from the thick sole of the gridded logger boot driving into his exposed chest and gut. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, Khan released Hodges' wrists and left him hanging there upside down, desperately gasping for air. He lifted his arms and rubbed his aching chest with one hand and pulverized belly with the other. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As Khan stepped up to join his partner in the center of the ring, both men pointed to the helpless victim in the corner and started to laugh. These two brutes taunted their dazed opponent, while also teasing the crowd by raising their hands in victory as though the round was already over.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jimmy jumped up to the ring outside the ropes and attempted to release Hodges' feet from underneath the steel cable securing them, but Bucksaw quickly moved toward him and planted a fist in the center of Jimmy's forehead, sending him back down to the floor, flat on his back. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then Bucksaw reached over and unlocked Hodges ankles, allowing him to tumble to the mat, where he lay chest down groaning in pain. Khan joined his partner and picked Hodges up by his armpits to a standing position. Soon he had the crook of the wrestler's elbows locked with his. Placing his forearms into the small of Hodges' back, Khan locked his wrists together and pulled back the victim's arms, forcing his chest and abdomen to push forward. Now Hodges' was held in the classic position, primed for a series of gut punches. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Bucksaw placed his left hand on Hodges' chest and began the assault. He drove his fist into the stomach, just under the rib cage. Hodges had tightened the muscles there with all his might and the fist was received with a dull thud, causing Bucksaw's knuckles to feel like they had hit a brick wall. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Unfazed, he resumed the pounding, driving his fist into Hodges' mid-section again and again, working his way from the stomach down towards the navel inches at a time. Now he grabbed the rim of Hodges' trunks with his left hand and pulled the torso towards him, simultaneously delivering a punch with his right hand aimed directly at the man's belly button. He continued pounding Hodges' lower abdomen with repeated rights, while Khan pulled the victim's arms back with painful effect. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hodges was slowly succumbing to these devastating punches. The only way he could defend himself was with the powerful muscles in his abdominal cavity, but they were slowly breaking down. The deep sounding thuds that accompanied each punch to his guts were now being joined by breath-heavy grunts, ooghs and ughs, so Bucksaw intensified the attack by including left hooks in his arsenal. He alternated right upper cuts to the pit of the man's stomach, followed by a left to the kidney and another right in the vicinity of the navel. Manly grunts echoed from the ring, as Hodges withstood a relentless flurry of blows to his exposed gut. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After pausing to catch the breath and admire his work, Bucksaw bolted for the far ropes, bounced off them and returned towards his victim. He leaped into the air and planted both boots into Hodges' mid-section with another flying drop kick. A huge wad of spit shot from the poor man's mouth as every ounce of air was driven out of him. Khan finally released the arms and Hodges fell to his knees with both hands clutching the belly, then lingered for several seconds before collapsing chest down onto the mat. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Again the hulks teased the audience. They pointed to Dick Hodges and laughed at him, ridiculing the man in front of his screaming fans. Scattered amidst the crowd were a few clapping hands and cheers, but nobody heard them. The vast majority was yelling at the referee, begging for him to do something. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Bucksaw and Khan probably could have pinned Hodges then and there, but they were not finished with him. Now it was Khan's turn. Bucksaw prepared Hodges for the next punishment by placing the crook of his elbows under the man's armpits. Locking his hands behind Hodges' head, he now secured him in a full-nelson, then rolled over onto his back and brought Hodges with him. Next, he brought his ankles from either side, placed them over the tops of Hodges' and effectively pinned the man's legs to the floor between his own. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges was held in a full-nelson while lying on top of the massive lumberjack. His chest rose high into the air as his arms, which together with his shoulders formed a "U" shape, were pulled down towards the mat. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Khan retrieved the chair that had begun Hodges' downfall and - after folding the metal seat to a closed position, he approached the helpless victim, raised the chair high over his head and slammed it down across Hodges' protruding chest with a tremendous blow. As Hodges howled in unholy pain, Khan turned to the audience and taunted them, pointing to the stricken man as a way to further belittle their fallen hero. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Some in the crowd were enjoying this spectacle and they cheered the mighty Khan, which caused small skirmishes to break out in the audience. The majority still wanted the beatings to stop and were outraged as to why anyone would be applauding the antics of these two monsters. Sure, there had been rule-breakers who had punished journeymen wrestlers before - jobbers they're called, but they were nobodies and the brutality had never reached this level. This was the number one good guy in the entire stable of wrestlers. How could it be that these men were being allowed to totally destroy him, with no sense of fair play nor an official who would enforce the rules? The fans were puzzled and beginning to fragment between those loyalists who loved Dick Hodges and those new to the sport who wanted something more exciting. With the outcome of the match still in doubt, the traditionalists held the majority, but little by little their numbers were dwindling. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Khan turned back to his victim and straddled him by planting his size 14 boots on either side of Hodges' hips. Holding the chair by its legs, he scrutinized the powerful chest and belly stretched and defenseless before him, then raised the chair and drove the edge of its seat back into Hodges' flattened abdominal muscles. He brought the chair up and down again and again, pounding Hodges from the pit of his stomach down to his belly and back again. Spit was spraying from Hodges' mouth like a fountain each time the seat back was driven into him and he let out a guttural grunt with each blow, as oxygen was crushed out of him as quickly as he could breath it in. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Kruil Li Khan was not yet finished pulverizing the helpless wrestler. He reversed grip on the chair and held the seat back with one hand. Using his free hand, Khan grabbed Hodges' trunks and lowered them to just above the pubic hair, then partially unfolded the chair to make the feet six inches apart. Placing two of the feet into Hodges' middle section, he began to lean on the chair. Now they were grinding into Hodges' abdominal muscles - one foot below the man's navel, the other in the pit of his stomach. His mighty chest expanded, while Bucksaw pulled down on his arms to further arch the back and stretch the abdominals. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hodges sucked in and tightened his belly with every ounce of strength he could summon, desperately trying to withstand this horrific punishment. The groaning of the man was a pitiful sound, as he strained against Bucksaw's firmly clamped full-nelson and raised his head with lower jaw jutting forward. Gazing past his heaving chest, Hodges looked down to the sight of his own torture. He and his powerful belly muscles were locked in a battle against the feet of the chair, as Khan ruthlessly drove them deep into him like impaling stakes. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Soon, tiny lines of blood began to trickle from the corners of his twisted mouth. The grinding feet of the chair were slowly crushing his stomach and the organs in his belly. Seeing this, the giant raised the chair embedded into the man's muscles and tossed it to the mat. He gazed at the audience to see and hear a few cheering and applauding these antics, but most were shaking their fists at him and demanding that he stop torturing the poor man. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Khan knelt to the mat and positioned himself beside Hodges' abdomen. He stared at every line of the stretched muscles he had just ground to a pulp, while the helpless wrestler's chest and diaphragm rapidly rose and fell. He struggled to take in fresh oxygen in an attempt to bring renewed strength to his pulverized belly, then turned his head to find Jimmy standing at ringside. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With Khan on the far side from him, Jimmy had a full profile view of his helpless hero's tormented body, as it strained against the torturous stretching of the full nelson. He saw the line of Hodges' abdomen quickly and repeatedly rise and fall, noting at how It was caved in to such an extent that the massive, expanded chest cavity appeared to be miles higher than the belly itself. Add to this the drama of his muscular body gallantly struggling to escape the full nelson and Jimmy was mesmerized by the scene. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He marveled at the incredible power of the man, but at the same time was devastated by the sight of his hero's suffering. He so dearly respected and admired Dick Hodges, not only for his masculine strength and athletic skills, but also for his unwavering commitment to the sport they both loved, that Jimmy's eyes moistened, his face consumed with anguish. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With head turned, Dick Hodges cast his eyes upon his devoted assistant, and in a thoughtful gesture to console him, flashed a smile, coupled with a reassuring wink. This strengthened Jimmy and he resumed his attempts to persuade the useless referee to do his duty, but the fool made no moves to disqualify these two henchmen. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Just then Khan raised his arms high and formed two claws with his gigantic hands. He brought them down full bore onto Dick Hodges' belly and clamped on the abdominal claw. Hodges writhed in agony from this devastating hold. Few men had survived its paralyzing punishment under normal circumstances, but now Dick Hodges was forced to endure this agony with his arms and legs hopelessly pinned, chest raised high in the air and exposed abdominal muscles stretched, flattened and relentlessly ground to a pulp. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The hero let out a manly groan with each exhale, as Khan ruthlessly clutched his 10 powerful fingers into his flattened abdominals. Hodges clenched his teeth and raised his head to witness the grinding punishment. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Staring him down with an evil grin, Khan told the struggling man to submit, but Hodges shook his head side to side, as he groaned and grunted with lower jaw jutting forward in defiance. Khan then raised up on his haunches to increase the leverage, driving his fingers deeper into the poor man's belly muscles. He again demanded a submission, but Hodges held on with all his strength. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Illegal in almost every circuit (including Chicago - not that it mattered), the abdominal claw renders a man nearly lifeless. By attacking the muscles and nerve endings, a form of paralysis sets in, as the metabolism slows and organs begin to nearly stop functioning. The longer such an attack is sustained upon a man, the further his body becomes defenseless - that is if he merely lies flat on his back to withstand the punishment. The belly of Dick Hodges was in a far worse predicament and position of vulnerability, but still he somehow was able to maintain enough strength to flex his muscles in defense. This caused his mighty chest to expand and rise even higher into the air. The sight of this poor man's struggle was somehow both tragic and beautiful. He alternated his gaze, first looking to his tortured belly, then to the referee and Jimmy, then to different areas of the audience. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A few were cheering their approval of these tactics, while others seemed indifferent. A few cried - both men and women. It was painful for them to see their mighty hero's manly body punished in such an unjust manner. This man was the ultimate design of masculine strength and beauty, yet they were forced to watch as he was relentlessly beaten to a pulp - ruthlessly tortured before their very eyes. To them, this was not wrestling, but the unwarranted, undignified destruction of a magnificent athlete. They could not understand why nobody was willing to help him - why there was no one to stop this two-against-one torture in the center of the ring. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">What they did not realize was that they were witnessing a rebirth of the sport. Just as surely as the fingers of Khan were slowly grinding the life out of Dick Hodges, so too was the life being drained from the scientific and legitimate sport of professional wrestling. As the outrageous, illegal assault continued to wear him down, this final bastion of pure wrestling techniques began to realize the outcome was unavoidable - his defeat inevitable - but not yet. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Despite the odds stacked against him, he silently vowed that as long as there was one ounce of strength remaining in his tortured body, he would never give in to them. They would be forced to beat him down until he could no longer move any muscle in defense. Until then, Dick Hodges was fully prepared to withstand any form of punishment they cared to dish out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">With newly-found resolve, Hodges turned his head, glared at Khan, and shot a wad of spit directly into his face. A bulls eye! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Immediately, Khan released the abdominal claw and stood in a rage, wiping the offensive saliva away from his eyes. Then, seeking revenge, he schemed for a new attack. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As Hodges relaxed his belly and continued gasping for air, Khan placed his hands onto the elevated chest of his victim, raised his legs in a handstand and brought both knees down into Hodges' abdomen. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The hapless wrestler grunted with a loud, echoing "UGH," as the air once again was driven out of him. The first blow had caught him off guard, knees plowing into his belly while his muscles were relaxed and innards unprotected. For the next, Hodges flexed in defense, as Khan unleashed a repeated attack by raising his legs again and again, bringing both knees down repeatedly into the stretched muscle.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Soon, the spit spewing from the mouth of Dick Hodges had a reddish tint, as blood intermingled with saliva to produce a pinkish spray. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Something inexplicable happened with many in the crowd when they saw these fountains. They forgot that they had come to the arena to see a wrestling match. Many more of them now had become excited by the violence, the savage assault and resulting blood being spewed up in the center of the ring. The audience began to count as Khan's knee-drops ruthlessly pounded the man's belly to hamburger: seven... eight... nine... ten! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The increased bleeding from the corners of Dick Hodges' mouth sent much of the crowd into a frenzy. These were the ones who had suspected for years that wrestling was fixed, but weren't quite certain of it - until now. Those fans were slowly becoming caught up in the violence - the brutality of the spectacle and they rushed closer to the ring, trying to get a better look at the relentless torture of Dick Hodges.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Some of the other fans tried to pull them back, but the audience was now split about 50-50 between those who were upset and those who were loving this drama.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Bigger skirmishes broke out as the people fought over who was right, and Khan, who sensed that things might get out of control, removed his hands from Dick Hodges' heaving chest and stopped his attack. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Khan stood gazing down at his pitiful victim, and then, he stepped up onto Hodges middle section. With both feet he stood, his full weight crushing down. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hodges strained his arms and expanded his chest, while tightening his muscles in a valiant attempt to withstand the incredible load bearing down on him. His amazing strength caused his abdominal cavity to lift Khan's body up a few inches with his every tormented breath of air.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">More and more people began to cheer the spectacle. One by one, they realized that this drama was no longer centered around who was the better man, but how the intense scene might play out. Good versus evil - athletic skills and masculine prowess versus illegal tactics and brute force - who would prevail? Because they no longer were concerned with what was right and what was wrong, they threw their support to the brutal duo. It stimulated them to see one man at the mercy of two and they urged the thugs to inflict more punishment to the stricken wrestler. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As Khan raised his arms in triumph, he looked down and nodded to the lumberjack. He was finally ready to put the finishing touches to whatever was left of the man beneath his boots. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Khan stepped off Hodges' belly, then Bucksaw rolled over on top, released Hodges from the full nelson and left him lying there face down. They both began mercilessly stomping on his back, until Khan poked his foot under Hodges' arm pit and rolled the beaten man face up and spread-eagle. Bucksaw stood on Hodges' chest. Khan stood on his belly. They both flexed their muscles to the crowd, as the referee counted very slowly: one...... two...... three. The bell rang. Round 2 had ended. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">________________________________________ </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Round 3 in a week</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-92058872392739282992015-09-26T12:27:00.001-05:002015-09-26T12:31:10.832-05:00Man of Black and White<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Originally titled Challenge Match on the Jardonn's Erotic Tales web site.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">written by Jardonn </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">posted here by rounds</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Round 1 -- The Match is Made </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges was a dying breed. He had wrestled in all the smaller circuits, year by year moving up the ladder towards the big time. It had now been four years since he had made it - Chicago - the Mecca of all professional wrestlers. Not only was the National Guard Armory Arena packed every Friday and Saturday night, but the television broadcasts were beamed to thousands and tapes of the action were sent to stations all over the country. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Despite being the most popular wrestler on the circuit - and therefore the owner's favorite, Hodges was unhappy. The game was changing right before his eyes. Bad guys were getting away with more and more every week. Sure there had always been cheating, but now they were going way beyond the unspoken boundaries. Illegal devices were being brought into the ring, ringside chairs were being used to knock opponents out and double teaming was seen with increasing frequency. All of this was being done in full view of the referees, but cheaters were being declared the winners despite these dirty tactics. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hodges had complained to the owner many times, but the answer was always the same. He claimed that many in the audience enjoyed the violence and that since they helped pay the salaries same as the traditional fans did, there was no harm in allowing that other segment their jollies every now and then, too. The motto has always been "give 'em what they want." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges felt he was becoming a dinosaur. He still believed that true wrestling skills and playing by the rules would always win out and he was going to prove it. Knowing that the owner would be in Europe for a few days to sell his product to TV stations there, Hodges issued a challenge on the Friday night broadcast. He picked the three dirtiest players for a "loser leaves town" match. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Saturday night he would face them in a best two out of three rounds challenge event. The first round would pit Hodges against one of them while the other two remained in the locker room. In round two a second man would join the first and face him two against one. If a third round were necessary, Hodges would take on all three in the ring at once. Each round was to be determined by pin-fall or submission and there would be no time limit to any round.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The bad guys jumped at this opportunity, because Hodges was the final bastion of scientific wrestling left standing between them and total domination of the Chicago circuit. The owner had always told them they could do what they wanted to any of his wrestlers, but Dick Hodges was off limits. With the owner out of town, they saw this as their best opportunity to get rid of the golden boy for good by any means necessary. Contracts were signed on the Friday live broadcast and the four men actually shook hands on the agreement. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So the match was set. It was to lead off the popular two-hour, Saturday night "Wrestling at the Armory" broadcast and even if it took the entire time to do it, this contest would determine the future of pro wrestling. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dick Hodges was greeted with wild enthusiasm as his name was announced to the audience packing the arena. He bounded down the aisle and entered the ring to a hero's welcome. He removed his black robe and unwrapped the white towel from his neck, handing them to Jimmy, his ringside assistant. Now he stood before his adoring fans with arms raised, his ankle-length black lace-up boots and black trunks set just below the navel perfectly defining his traditional style. Hodges' muscular and well-defined upper torso, arms and legs glowed in the bright lights illuminating the ring. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Next, the MC announced the first opponent and Bucksaw Jones lumbered down the aisle. A scattering of cheers and applause was quickly drowned by a din of boos and hisses. He stood in the ring with hands on hips, his 6'7" 270 pound frame towering over the crowd. Fitting with his lumberjack image, he was dressed in a flannel shirt with sleeves torn away and baggy Levi's tucked into knee-length logger boots. His massive arms and chest were the perfect build for beating down his opponents and the illegal logger boots were his secret weapon, stomping and kicking victims on his way to victory. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The bell sounded and match began. Hodges moved in fast, knowing he needed to finish Bucksaw quickly and save his strength for Round 2. Dipping to one knee, he grabbed one of the legs and moved behind the hulk, who was as slow as a turtle and possessed no wrestling skills whatsoever. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Bucksaw soon found himself face down on the mat with his left leg clamped in an ankle lock and even though this joint was protected by the thick leather of his logger boots, the skill with which Hodges executed the hold caused Bucksaw to scream in pain. With the ankle leveraged against his forearm, Hodges could have broken Bucksaw's ankle at any time, but he was not the type of man to use his skills for such things. That was not his purpose. Instead, he intended to create enough pain to cause his opponent to forfeit the round by submission, which happened in less than thirty seconds. Bucksaw pounded his meaty hand on the mat and begged the referee to end his suffering. Round 1 lasted a total of 53 seconds, with Hodges declared the winner by submission. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was always Hodges' custom to rest on a stool in his corner between rounds and the duty of assisting him had been given to a young man he had met early in his career. Jimmy was a fan of Dick Hodges dating back to the days when his professional career began in Enid, Oklahoma. He had written countless letters to his hero and when their meeting finally took place, Jimmy begged Hodges to let him be his ring boy, securing the star's robe before the matches and setting up the stool in multiple-round events. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hodges had agreed to this, paying Jimmy a small percentage of his salary for this assistance and from that day on, Jimmy had followed him up the ladder of success. Now, with Hodges making good money, Jimmy's loyalty was rewarded with the same percentage of the much larger salary. After all this time, he still was devoted to the man and they maintained a very close friendship, with Jimmy taking care of all the equipment, traveling with the wrestler to every town on the Chicago circuit and acting as a sort of "buffer" between Hodges and some of his overly enthusiastic fans. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Over the years, Jimmy had read countless library books and magazine articles relating to the anatomy of the body human, so he was quite skilled in helping Hodges to not only maintain, but also nurse the muscles, tendons and ligaments back to health. This he did both in the locker room after a match had ended and sometimes at the wrestler's home or motel room before time to arrive for the next contest, plus in between rounds whether it was needed or not. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As Hodges sat awaiting Round 2, Jimmy rubbed and squeezed the wrestler's trapezoids, while Bucksaw angrily paced in the opposite corner, trying to walk off the pain in his ankle. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then the Master of Ceremonies made the announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, now entering the ring, standing over seven feet tall and weighing in at 325 pounds, the Mongolian Giant, Kruil Li Khan!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">________________________________________ </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Round two will be posted in two days.</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-44945308054967961172015-09-16T14:26:00.000-05:002015-09-26T12:54:08.617-05:00Shoot the Galoot<span style="font-size: large;">originally titled Perfect Timing on the Jardonn's Erotic Tales web site</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">written by Jardonn Smith</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Joey Scimeca was a big guy. Big, strong and stupid. It wasn't like he was mental of nothin'. It's just 'cause he never learned from his fuck-ups. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">See, Joey was a two-faced back-stabber. No matter how many times fellas in the neighborhood would try to help him out, he'd screw 'em over when they wasn't lookin'. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For example: One time Joey's hard up for cash and can't pay his rent, so this guy gets him a job workin' at his brother-in-law's meat market. Two days later, 'bout 50 pounds of beef comes up missin'. Sure enough, when the fellas busted into Joey's apartment, there's the meat scattered all over in the front room, just rottin' and smellin' up the place. He didn't even want the shit. He just took it 'cause that's the way he was. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, we'd always have to take him somewhere and beat the crap out of him. But did he ever learn? Hell, no. He'd just start hangin' with some new pals and do the same thing to them. He even did about six months inside Ellsworth for some petty bullshit, I can't even remember what. But did he learn? Must have learned enough to keep from takin' a shank or gettin' his salad tossed. Or maybe not on the second part. Hell, I dunno. All I know is, back on the outside, back to the same old Joey.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The cops weren't really surprised when they found Joey dead, 'cause of his reputation and all. What did kinda get to 'em was how they found him. These detectives were hard-nosed dicks who thought they'd seen it all, but findin' Joey like he was, well, I guess it kinda turned their guts inside out. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Joey got to hangin' with some hoods up north of here, seein' is how he used up all his credit with us. He hooked up with this guy called Eddie Rosario, who was runnin' some sorta underground slot machine racket up there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, this Rosario didn't really know Joey Scimeca, and Joey sure as hell didn't know him, not good enough anyway. The guy asks Joey to watch his girlfriend for a coupla hours like a bodyguard type deal, while he and his pals goes to make some collections. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Naturally, Joey starts hittin' on her for a piece of ass and when she ain't willin' to give it up, he beats the shit out of her and takes it anyway.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Didn't take long for Rosario and a few buddies to come into our neck of the woods to drag Joey away. You think we was gonna save his silly ass? No fuckin' way. We figured they'd just beat him up real good like we always done to him and that'd be the end of it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They took him out to the end of Murfreesboro Road, where one of 'em's got an uncle with a tire warehouse and no alarms. Once they got him inside there, they took turns holdin' back his arms and punchin' him all over his belly and chest, 'til they knew he wouldn't fight back no more. There's about 12 of 'em takin' turns workin' him over, while Rosario stands back to watch. After they's done, he tells 'em to strip Joey and take him over to this big work bench they got in there that's about three feet tall. So, they get him all naked and layin' on top of this bench, then they tie up his hands and feets with ropes. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He's layin' face up on top of this bench with no clothes on. His arms's stretched past his head and his head's right at the end of the bench. They tie his wrists together and knot the ends of the ropes back to the legs of the work bench, so his arms's kinda pulled down below where his head is and his back's raised off the table a bit and chest stickin' up in the air. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This bench's about four feet long, so Joey's legs're bent at the knees and they tie his ankles to the legs holdin' up that end of the bench.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There he is all stretched out and naked, waitin' to see what Rosario's got in mind as far as revenge. Joey had a helluva body. I seen it before when we's at the swimmin' beach. His chest's all thick and solid, and his belly's tapered down to the waist with real heavy lines of muscle that look strong as shit. He didn't try to be that way. He's just born with it I guess. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The first thing they do is bring out Rosario's woman. She starts slappin' and punchin' on him, then took her nails and scratched the shit outta his face. Kinda made him look like her. After she finally wears herself out gettin' even, Rosario takes over. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He has 'em all get some tire irons and start wailin' on Joey. Guess they cracked about every rib in him and turned that hard midsection of his into a bowl of mush. Rosario just stands there watchin' and listenin' to poor Joey grunt and groan. Guess he never did cry out or beg 'em to stop or nothin'. Don't know if it's 'cause he's too stupid or just didn't give a fuck no more. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After Rosario gets satisfied, he brings over this chick he knows that works the streets. He gives her a few bills and tells her to start suckin' Joey's dick. He's beat all to hell and probably bleedin' inside out, but the big guy gets his cock hard real fast. Guess that whore really knew how to work it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyways, while she's gettin' Joey off, Rosario leans over and whispers somethin' in the cock sucker's ear. She keeps on blowin' him while Joey's cryin' out like a bitch. Whether it's from the bj or the beaten he'd took or both, I couldn't tell ya.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Bottom line is that just as Joey's about to shoot his load, the chick takes him outta her mouth and Rosario pulls out this little pistol, like a Beretta Tomcat or somethin', I dunno. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Joey shoots his wad just as a bullet's goin' through his cock. Blood and jizz spew out the end of his dick at the same time, which's gotta be one helluva thing to see. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That's when Rosario tells his boys to start cuttin' him up. They all pull out their blades and go to work slicin' Joey to pieces. They don't do his face, 'cause Rosario wants the cops to see who he is. Don't do his cock or nuts or what's left of 'em neither, but everything else gets cut up real good. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That's how they left him. Then, they come over here to tell us all about it. Every bit of every minute of what they done to Joey, like we're supposed to believe this shit really happened... then again, puttin' what Rosario said with what the cops said, I gotta bad feeling Joey got all that done to him for real. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyways, Eddie Rosario comes struttin' over to us like some macho man, actin' like he's wantin' to start somethin' up with us. We just stand there listenin' to him, while he's slobberin' from givin' us all the details. Talkin' like a real hot shit smart ass, darin' us to do somethin' about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Know what we tell him? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We say, "Thanks. We shoulda done it ourselves long time ago. Now, get your fuckin' ass outta here. Next time we see you on our turf we'll do all of you's like what you's done to Joey."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Cops ain't ever gonna solve this one, 'cause they don't give a shit any more'n anybody else. Guess I used to feel sorry for Joey when he'd get beat up and all, but that's a long time ago. Fucked up shit like that happens 'cause it's supposed to. Ain't nothin' I can do about it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-65799962720683729742015-09-07T12:04:00.000-05:002015-09-07T12:10:48.746-05:00Screw Him (3)<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Part Three</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My boobs sprang to life, enjoying the fresh air as Brenda and Suzie removed the tape binding them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Brenda and Mike-come-Michelle,” Suzie chirped. “Such a lovely pair. I think in this particular case my husband deserves some special treatment. Would you object to a bit of oil with your wrestling?” Waiting for Brenda and me to greedily nod in agreement, Suzie continued. “I tried this once before on him. Slicked him up so he could play like he was a chained muscle man. You know, like in those Italian Hercules movies. Then I jumped on his bone and screwed him senseless.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our excited expressions became much more animated, and soon Eddie was besieged by three naked females descending the stairs. He didn't see us. Hadn't moved much, but was rolled over pretending his escape by slowly slithering on his belly. Too weak to stand and run. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Suzie commanded, “Seize him!” and we made a dash for his ankles, grabbed and held them while he clawed at the mat trying to get away. “Now, turn him over and rack him.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A stretch rack -- not a kick-in-the-groin rack. Brenda grasped his ankles and I his wrists. We rolled him, pulled his limbs in opposite directions while kneeling at opposite ends of him, and awaited Suzie's next move. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With a handful of towels and bottle of oil, Suzie dropped her buttocks onto his stomach and spoke sweetly. “Eddie, darling, I appreciate your gesture, but Brenda and I won't be available. We have a play to attend here in town Saturday night, and wouldn't miss it for the world. Perhaps you and Michelle can get tickets and join us. Doesn't that sound like fun?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, Eddie opened his eyes. My boobs hovering above his face brought an instant reaction. "Holy crap! Mike's a.. uh..." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Mike is a Michelle," his wife finished his sentence for him. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hello, Eddie," I reintroduced myself with a smirk on my face and a wiggle of my boobies. "It's a brand new pleasure to meet you." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Eddie's laughter was so raucous, his jiggling belly bounced Suzie up and down with it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"So, Eddie," his wife got him back on subject. "Wouldn't you prefer to cancel your NYC weekend and come to the local play with Brenda and me?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, no, no," he guffawed, looking at his wife, and then again at me. "You two go on ahead. Mike... er, Michelle and I will go to New York and fornicate in the hotel room." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Very funny, smart guy.” Suzie flipped open the bottle, turned her head and spoke to Brenda. “Get rid of that jock strap.” While Brenda stripped him, Suzie slathered his chest with oil. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He watched her a few seconds, recognized the play and got into character. “Evil woman, what are you doing to me?” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Her right hand spread the oil while her left tipped the bottle, adding more. “We're going to work you over good, mister. Punish you until you change your mind. When we're finished with you, you will gladly accompany us to our theater.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Ha! Do your worst,” he scoffed, hamming it up as any bound bodybuilder-trying-to-be-a-serious-actor would. “You will never break me down.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“May be, but we will wear you out.” With that, she raised off of him, dried her hands and moved to his feet. Clasping his ankles, she nodded to me. “Now, stretch him.” We pulled him in opposite directions. “Brenda, take him. He's all yours.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My Brenda flipped the bottle lid, stood straddling his flanks so he could see her, dripped oil first onto his belly and then all over her breasts. After a giant squirt between them, she dropped the bottle and erotically slicked her front side, fondling her breasts, fiddling with her nipples, catching tributaries running down her stomach and painting herself a glossy sheen. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Between her legs, I spotted Eddie's penis. A glorious tool, fully rigid and bouncing on his belly. Like the rest of him, Eddie's cock was a solid build, thick and powerful, nearly two inches of diameter and six of length, with a gigantic helmet. The rim of his corona surely surpassed two inches around, and in its surging excitement its flesh pulsated a bold color of purplish-red.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, you pitiful, tortured man,” Brenda moaned, dropping to her knees and covering him chest to chest. Her oil-slicked titties slithered along his stretched pectorals and greasy fur. “Why do you make us punish you this way?” She smothered his mouth before he could answer, her jaw wide open, her tongue invading his throat, while at their middle her spread-apart labia wedged his hard penis between her walls. Her juices flowing, she lubricated his peter, thrusting her pelvis to and fro and gliding her hot vagina the length of his throbbing cock. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She slid her greasy hands under his shoulders. Squeezed her breasts against him while smothering him with kisses. Their chests made squishing sounds, mouths made slurping sounds, as her pelvic undulations manipulated his cock head to target her clitoris. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh,” she moaned upon feeling his power.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Ugh,” he grunted as she took him deeper. Raising off of him, she straddled him with her knees, her upper torso vertical, and slowly impaled herself with his mighty tool. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“What will you do now, tough guy?” I asked Eddie while gazing into the ecstatic eyes of my Brenda. Peering around her, I saw Suzie lay on her side atop his shins, pinning his legs as her fingers deep-massaged his manly, fur-topped feet. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I continued my taunting. “Here you are. Stripped of everything.” I let go his wrists, replacing my hands with my shins to pin him while kneeling. “Stretched on the rack.” My twat hovered above his face. “It's three against one. No escape. You are completely at our mercy. How will you survive it?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He couldn't answer because my dripping vagina covered his mouth. Drowned, stretched and screwed, our tortured hero invaded me with his tongue. Found my clittie and attacked, while Brenda punished his penis with her crunching, vaginal muscles. Inside her wet velvet she enveloped him, clipping her little peter against his massive, hammer-head corona. My hands assaulted his oiled chest; Brenda's his flattened belly; Suzie his writhing feet. Our man took what was given him, and we used him to satisfy ourselves. With my weight I bore down on him, my taint pressing his nose, my vagina smothering his mouth. His talented tongue brutalized my clitoris with wet scraping. Brenda brutalized herself with his fat, juicy cock, bumping her clittie with his helmet, crushing his diameter with her vaginal muscles. Increasing the pace of her ride up and down his glorious pole, her eyes glazed, and knowing her time was near, I leaned forward so I could put my hands on her breasts. Stimulated her nipples with my thumbs while she bounced on him, her claws digging into his belly for leverage. She screamed at him. Her ecstatic howls of orgasm echoed the room, and I removed my twat from his mouth so he could breathe, so he could elevate his hips and properly finish her while I cradled his head and peppered his face with kisses. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Eddie, Eddie,” I whispered. “You beautiful, beautiful man.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“That doesn't begin to describe it,” Brenda collapsed atop him, smearing her face with his oiled chest. “More like a masterpiece.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Ain't I lucky, gals?” Suzie left his feet and joined us, laying on her side to his left with me doing the same on his right. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brenda slid down and used his belly for her pillow so Suzie and I could hand rub his chest while kissing his face. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Surely, this must be every man's dream. Three naked women fawning over him, and Eddie did bask in our affection as long as he could before announcing, “Dear ladies, you know I feel the same about you. I am truly one lucky S.O.B. I'd love to stay here forever, but I've got two problems.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Go ahead,” Suzie prodded. “We're listening.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Number one, my back is as stiff as my pecker.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“That's understandable,” I sympathized.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“And the second?” Brenda wondered. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I've gotta piss.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Men! So vulgar. So crude, and we would have this man no other way. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“All right,” his wife gave permission. “Let him go, girls, so he can admire himself in front of the mirror.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Can we watch?” I asked. “You don't have a nervous bladder, do you, Eddie?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“No, right now I've got a bladder that's about to burst.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We raised off of him, grabbed his arms and helped him sit up. “Allow your new girlfriends to escort you,” Brenda offered, as she and I held his hands and walked him to the bathroom. Rubbed his chest and kissed on him while he shot a long stream into the toilet, and then we followed him to the sink and kissed him some more while he washed his hands. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We took turns complimenting him, Brenda going first. “Eddie, what you did is amazing. The weekend trip, I mean, do you have any idea how happy you've made her?” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“And us. Why did you include us? We should reimburse you. This trip must have cost you an arm and a leg. Especially with no discounts for advance purchase.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brenda backed me up. “Yes, we will reimburse you. Or at least go half. Surely you'll let us...”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Good grief, you two,” he pulled away from us, grabbing a towel and drying his hands. “Stop already. I used Travelogue-go and got the best prices I could find. As for the theater, they're probably crappy seats. Two are in the first balcony. Two are left center near the back, and yes, they cost a pretty penny, but who gives a shit? I'm getting my reward, ain't I? Both of you make us happy. It's not easy finding good friends like you. People we can trust. People Suzie and I are comfortable with, people we enjoy...”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Good grief, Eddie,” I admonished him, teasingly thrusting my fist toward his stomach, just like old times when he wasn't sure if I was male or female but didn't care. “Stop already. We get it. We feel the same about you and Suzie. So, shut up and let us give you more of that reward you've earned.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We returned to find Suzie had made all preparations. A giant pool of baby oil awaited Eddie, as we stepped onto the mat and wallowed in the slime. With our hands we saturated one another, every part, from the hair of our heads to the nails of our toes, with Eddie getting most of the attention. We laid him on his belly. Our thirty fingertips dug into his muscles, removing knots from his neck, shoulders and shoulder blades, his back, his buttocks, his thighs and calves and soles of his feet. We turned him over. Kneaded like bread dough his pectorals and abdominals and tops of his thighs, and before long we molested him. Our breasts and bellies writhed all over him, while fingers massaged his testicles and stroked his penis. Eddie reciprocated, rolling onto his side and grabbing any part of any woman within his reach. Like a nest of serpents, we coiled and writhed atop and beneath one another, paying no mind to whom or what we were touching. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oiled flesh is sexy. Instigates a savage kind of ecstasy. An orgy of mutual praise. A glorification of the human form. A frenzy of lust, but when I felt as though on the verge of orgasm simply from burying my slimy face into glowing female breasts and hairy male chest and undulating bellies and saturated crotches, I wanted him in the most mundane manner possible. I wanted Eddie traditional-style. Vanilla. A big, strong man and his hard, slick muscles laying on top of me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It is what I asked for. It is exactly what I got. He enveloped me in his arms, smashed my breasts beneath his manly fur. His oil-drenched chest hairs scraped my nipples, as he thrust to and fro, gently sliding his penis into my welcoming vagina. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He is an artist. A hypnotist. A masterpiece who magically pivots his hips, twists and turns left and right to stimulate me from every possible angle. He is a lover. A Romeo. A Don Juan who presses his mouth to mine, slips his tongue inside to mesmerize me with his juxtaposition of brute, masculine strength versus gentle, thoughtful romance. He is what every man should be. He is what I aspire to be, for myself, and for Brenda. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He is alive inside me. Nothing can replace the male penis. Strap-ons are merely functional. They have no heartbeat. They have no soul, and their size changes nothing. Eddie responded to me. His cock targeted me as only a living, feeling, ecstasy-inducing master-work of masculinity can, and as his two admirers spurred him on with massaging hands to his back and buttocks and legs and feet, my beautiful Eddie brought me an orgasm never before experienced. The heights of my pleasure caused me to wrap him in my arms and squeeze with all my might. My oil-slicked body gyrated beneath him. I thrust upward my pelvis to meet him, to take every micro-inch of his penis into me. I wanted connection with him. I needed to meld with him. The ultimate man was mine, and until he sacrificed to me a smattering of his gift I would not let go. A minuscule sample, that's all I wanted. An infusion of his strength, his manliness, his thoughtfulness, his love for his woman, his appreciation for me and my woman. He would give it and I would take it. Absorb it. Cherish it forever. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Good God Almighty, he is one beautiful hunk of man. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My, my, but we were the most charming of couples on our whirlwind, New York weekend. I resumed my public butch with my strapped-down breasts. Nobody outside our circle of four knew the difference between Mike and Michelle, but back in our Marriott hotel room it was Eddie and his three concubines. His harem of females worshiping him to exhaustion. No oil. We dared not saturate their beautiful bedding. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, Brenda and Suzie frothed over the production of Kinky Boots. Even Eddie and I had to admit the show was well-worth the high price of admission, and Eddie still considers it one of the best investments he's ever made. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As for our Thursday nights, their mat will soon need to be replaced. Seems to be developing wrinkles for some reason. Don't know if baby oil could be the culprit, but I do know it will be many a year before we run out of scenarios with which to praise our Eddie. Our pitiful, tortured hero. Our masculine marvel, and the best guy any gal could ever hope to know. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The End</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-4889101870859077372015-08-31T00:41:00.000-05:002015-08-31T00:41:05.773-05:00Screw Him (2)<span style="font-size: large;">“You're early! Was the play that bad?” Brenda was in our kitchen putting away leftover snacks she'd absconded from her event.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Worse than bad,” I groaned, tossing the theater program on the table. “How were the old folks?” Clamping her buttocks, I pulled her toward me for a smooch. “Did they enjoy their tea dance?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, they did. That little swing band we hired even had me trying to jitterbug along with them.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Hope you didn't break anything.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“You mean at the senior center? Or inside me?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Both.” Wrapping my arms around her, I swayed back and forth, slow-dancing to the hum of our open-door refrigerator light. “Suzie hated what was happening on stage worse than I did.” Twirling us within range, I closed the fridge door with my knee. “Thankfully, she was ready to leave after the second act. So happy to see her house, she was, and as you can see she kissed me all over before I could even park in their driveway.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Yes,” Brenda stopped our dance so she could inspect my face. “You will notice I gave you time to explain this mess.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Is it a mess?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“You haven't looked?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Nuh-uh.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Why are your lips red, Mike, my darling? Been biting them?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Nuh-uh. Have you showered yet?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“No, silly. I just got home. Are you hungry?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Everywhere. Go fix us a bubble bath. I'll pick through the booty you brought home.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Naked and in our tub, Brenda leaned against me, her reddish-brunette hair tickling my nose, her buttocks between my thighs and the small of her back nestled into my belly. "Okay, Mike," she purred. "Tell me about Richard theThird."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, please,” I licked the back of her neck, nibbled her ear. “The only point of interest was how he killed husbands so he could marry their wives.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Is that what you're planning for Eddie? So you can have Suzie?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Hardly.” My soap-slimy hands massaged Brenda's belly, moved to her breasts while my thumbs stimulated her nipples. “But it gave Suzie some ideas. Made her horny, too.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“How do you know that?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“She couldn't sit still. On the way home she told me why.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“And?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Eddie. She wants to murder him, and she wants us to help.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brenda scooted forward and turned. “Oh, Mike! Really, now, be serious.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I am. She wants me to get him in a wrestling hold so you two can beat the crap out of him.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I still don't believe you. She can't be that angry with him. And besides, why would that make her horny?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I don't know. Are you horny? Thinking about it? Poor Eddie, all stretched out and primed for a beating? That big ol' hairy chest of his? That fat slab of meat bulging in his jock strap?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“All right, Mike. That is enough.” She stood, opened the drain.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I reminded her, “You didn't answer my questions.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She never did answer verbally, just turned on the water and ran it through the shower head, rinsed herself while motioning with her finger for me to do the same. After toweling, I followed her to our bed. She peeled the covers, lit a candle on our bedside table, turned off the lamp atop that same table and sprawled upon our mattress. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brenda and I had discussed the topic before. Dating back to the beginnings of our wrestling matches and several times since. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. She'd asked me to describe his penis, even though I'd only seen it in its flaccid state. I, in turn, had queried her for descriptions of Suzie, the shape of her breasts, the color of her nipples, design of her vagina and shade of fur surrounding it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our shared fantasies of the Caldwells had many times entered our bedroom conversations, so on this night, as I lay atop Brenda with my rigid tool targeting her clitoris, I spiced up our imaginations with the latest revelation. "Suzie says Eddie asked her about swinging with us." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Partner exchange?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yep. You need to call and talk to her, so you can hear all the details. Suzie's pretending to be pissed off at him for staying home to watch the Stanley Cup. She'll be giving him the cold shoulder all week, and then when we wrestle Thursday night, Eddie will get his comeuppance." </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"So, we three will gang up on Eddie?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"At this point, my dear, you should think of what might be. Let Suzie tell you about it later. Assuming, of course, that you are still interested in swinging with the Caldwells." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Your assumptions are correct, lover." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Nothing more needed to be said. Visions of Thursday night's possibilities brought heavenly, orgasmic sounds the likes of which Brenda and I hadn't produced for quite some time. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The floor mat in the Caldwells' basement measures twenty by twenty feet, a handsome burgundy color, but a bit dull from years of use at the high school from whose rummage sale it was purchased. Rules simple. Brenda wrestles Suzie until one of them tires and calls for her partner, and then Eddie and I do battle. When Eddie or I call for it, Brenda and Suzie take over, and so on. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our attire also is simple. T-shirts and gym shorts. Brenda and Suzie go barefooted and bra-less. Eddie and I sport jock straps under our shorts, and all-purpose athletic shoes and socks on our feet. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Before making our way to the basement, Suzie sent Eddie ahead of us. “Get the lights on,” she barked. “And make sure there's clean towels and bottles of water down there.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Done by design so we could whisper. “Did you freeze him out?” I queried.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Mike, I haven't said but a couple dozen words to him since you dropped me off.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brenda wondered, “Has he asked why?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Of course not. He knows, or at least he thinks he knows. Every time I give him the cold shoulder he smirks at me, like he's more intrigued than angry. He knows I'm up to something and he's anxious to see what it is." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Good!” Brenda giggled. “Let's go get him.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We stood as couples on opposite sides of the mat, Suzie turning to Eddie with a sneer of sarcasm. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, dear,” his reply oozed with the whine of a henpecked husband, and with that, Suzie and Brenda began the contest. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Circling one another, they clasped hands to shoulders and jockeyed for first offensive maneuver, while Eddie and I enjoyed watching their bra-less, bouncing titties under tight-fitting T-shirts. Brenda wrapped her arm around Suzie's neck, hooked her leg behind Suzie's leg and twisted her to the mat. Suzie laid on her back with Brenda on top of her, Suzie's face smothered by Brenda's pectoral with nothing of her head but her flowing blonde hair in sight. Planting her feet flat, she sprung herself upwards and thrust Brenda aside, forcing her to release the headlock, as Suzie pounced on her, grabbed an arm and twisted it into a reverse arm lock. Brenda's breasts were smashed against the mat, and with Suzie's weight bearing down on her, her arm bent in a position she didn't like, Brenda called for me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“That's enough! Mike, I need a tag.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Hmph,” Eddie huffed. “That's what I call a half-assed effort, Brenda.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">First, I verbally defended her. “Are you trying to rile me, Eddie?” Next, I challenged him. “Come on, big-mouth. Show me what you've got.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He lunged for my chest and I moved to the side, but his was a feint, as he crouched and grabbed hold my leg. With both arms wrapping my thigh, he lifted and turned me, throwing me onto the mat face-down as he deftly released my leg and secured one arm and my neck into a half-nelson. The tread on my boots came in handy. Pushing with one foot I twisted out from beneath him, broke his hold on me and grabbed his arm, stretching it into an arm bar while my feet pushed against his neck and ribs. Eddie laid on his chest, tried to raise by drawing up his knees, but before he could I bent his arm into a hammer lock, rose to one knee and planted my other knee atop his shoulder. Very uncomfortable, Eddie groaned, the points of his boots pounding the mat as he repeatedly failed in his attempts to gain leverage and lift me off him. Tiring, he conceded, asking for relief. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“That's enough! Suzie, I need a tag.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Hmph,” huffed Brenda. “That was a half-assed effort.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I agree,” Suzie snarled. “Hell, Eddie. Don't be such a wuss. Stay in there and fight.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With a grunt, Eddie protested. “Hey! Come on now. You know the rules. I want out, so let's switch.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brenda stepped onto the mat. “You know what? There's something I've always wanted to do.” She grabbed both his ankles and raised his legs in a Boston crab, and as she put a severe backward curve to his spine, I released the hammer lock and moved in front of him. Taking his wrists, I tugged both of his arms past his head, planting the soles of my shoes into his trapeziums, as Brenda completed her thought. “Get me a close-up look at his legs.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Straining his neck, Eddie glared at me. “Mike! What the hell is she doing? Trying to break my back?” All he got from me was a sadistic grin, so he tried Suzie. “Come on, babe. Do something with these cheaters, would ya?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, all right,” she chuckled. “Honestly, Eddie. You are such a baby.” Entering the fray, she took one of his legs from Brenda. “Hairy things, aren't' they?” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Indeed they are. Think I'll cop me a feel.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They both did, securing him with one hand while rubbing up and down his fur-covered shins and muscular calves. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“God damn, you. What the hell is going on here?” Eddie's pain could have been much worse and he knew it. His protest matched the severity of his discomfort – half-way serious – and when Suzie took control over both of his legs, raising him higher so that his T-shirt fell to his rib cage, he merely exhaled, “Hmm,” when hands touched his exposed belly. Brenda's hands, as she straddled him and rubbed his middle. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Mm-mm,” she approved. “His abdominals are like concrete.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Carpet-covered concrete,” added Suzie. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Shag carpet,” finalized Brenda. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Grinning wide, I told Eddie, “Looks like you might as well lose the shirt. Do a push-up, buddy, if you can.” He could and did, as I released his wrists and stripped him from the waist up. “Looks like Eddie Caldwell is in some deep shit.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I began a play-by-play, mimicking the voice of a sports announcer. “His partner has betrayed him, and now it's three against one. They're trying to break his spine. Suzie Sadist bending him in the Boston crab while Brenda Banshee digs into his stretched muscles with the dreaded belly claw. He's moanin' and groanin', fighting 'em with all his strength, but little by little they're wearing him down.” I nodded to Brenda and she tapped Suzie. The crab was released and toes of his shoes fell to the mat, as I maneuvered on top of him. “Oh, no!” I moaned in sympathetic voice. “Mike the Mauler is clamping on the full-nelson.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“God, no,” Eddie grunted. “My spine can't take any more.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“They're rolling him over. Banshee and Sadist grabbing his legs to turn him. He's laying on top of the Mauler, locked in the full-nelson, his arms pulled down, chest raised up and belly stretched. He's at their mercy, as these two heartless females circle him, stalking their prey. They kneel on either side of him, their hands rubbing on him, his chest, his belly. They're taunting him. Tormenting him, and there's not a damn thing he can do about it.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Eddie said nothing. Merely groaned with each exhale of breath. Didn't fight me either. Kept his heels on the mat, his legs sprawled and arms limber. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“All right. Listen here, mister,” Suzie snarled as her claw dug into his belly. “Next time I ask you to take me somewhere, you better do it with no questions asked. Understand?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Sure,” he gasped. “As long as it's not that damn theater.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Really? Maybe this will change your attitude.” With a nod to Brenda, they lowered their faces to his chest, their tongues lightly flicking his nipples. He flinched, groaned, raised his head for a look. “Well,” she continued. “Since beating you senseless didn't work, perhaps we should try other methods to change your attitude.” Taking each his titties between fingers and thumbs, they twisted on them, pinched on them, and then covered them with their mouths, sucking and nibbling to their heart's content. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">His groans grew louder. Voice deeper. He lowered his head, expanded his chest, arched his back, nearly lifting himself completely off of me while grunting like a caveman, “Ugh, you sadistic wenches.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Ready to obey me now?” Suzie questioned between sucks. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Never,” he lifted his chest even higher. “Go ahead. Do you what you've gotta do.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Abandoning his nipples, they lightly scraped him with their nails from his sternum to his belly, as Suzie moved the play to act two. “All right, mister. You leave us no choice but to strip you down.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They started with his shoes, tugging laces while I kept Eddie in the mood by whispering in his ear. “Damn, buddy, why don't you give it up?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Never,” he snapped, as both shoes came off. “No woman's ever going to break me.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I don't know, Eddie. I can't even guess what they're gonna do to you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"It doesn't matter," he snorted while they peeled off his socks. "I will never give in." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With no fanfare, Suzie and Brenda grabbed the waistband of Eddie's gym shorts, yanking them off his hips, past his feet and to the floor. This left but one garment covering him. His jock strap, but before exposing his cock and balls, they hesitated.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">His wife asked, “Eddie? What the hell is this?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brenda answered. “Looks like a piece of paper stuffed in his jock strap. Shall we?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“We shall,” said Suzie, and I peered over Eddie's shoulder as she opened the wad and read it. "Looks like an airline confirmation... to New York... for this weekend.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“What is that handwritten part?” Brenda asked. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“It says, 'Dresser, top right drawer under your undies.” She stood, folded the paper. “All right, Eddie. I'll play. Brenda, you and Mike come with me. Knowing him he probably put a plastic mouse or something in there.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With Eddie completely limp and non-resistant, I released the full-nelson and pushed him off of me. He sprawled onto his back, eyes closed, corners of his mouth slightly up-turned, and we left him there. In the drawer, another piece of paper folded in half. Another print out, this one for a double room at the New York Marriott Marquis. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Suzie determined, “It's for this Saturday night, and look what he wrote.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brenda and I read it. Instructions for us to look under his recliner. Skedaddling to the living room, I tilted the chair while Suzie grabbed a white envelope, opened it and removed four tickets. “Oh, my God!” she shrieked. “These are for The Book of Mormon. A Sunday matinee. This Sunday!” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">How on earth? When on earth had he done all this? Apparently, while Suzie and I were plotting against him and he was supposedly watching a hockey game, Eddie Caldwell had instead plopped down at their computer and relieved himself of all guilt. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Her husband remained in the basement and out of hearing range, but still, Suzie spoke to him, shouting, “Damn, you Eddie!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I love you to death. Do you hear me?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He probably heard but did not answer. Probably still laying there sprawled, wishing someone would yank away his jock strap and set his penis free. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Well, I think it's time we all get naked,” Brenda suggested. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Suzie, do you think it's time he sees all of us naked?” I queried. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“No time like the now,” she replied. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“OK, you two,” I lifted my shirt up and off. “Let's get to cutting this tape.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">part three in a week</span><br />
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-33054514156591488182015-08-24T00:18:00.000-05:002015-08-24T00:33:03.064-05:00Screw Him (1)<span style="font-size: large;">written by Jasper McCutcheon</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pig-headed, that's Eddie Caldwell. At least he was on this particular issue. His wife, Suzie, needed an escort to the theater on Friday night. Eddie refused to take her, opting instead for hockey. Not as a participant, mind you. Not as a fan at the arena, but on television. That's right, Eddie Caldwell was choosing television over his wife.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"What's the big deal, Eddie?” I asked him while he toweled off from his shower. Thursday nights are wrestling nights at the Caldwell home. Eddie and Suzie Caldwell versus Mike and Brenda Willis, and we'd just finished our weekly session. “Just record your hockey game,” I reasoned. “Watch it later."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">These wrestling matches we have are nothing serious. Strictly for exercise and social entertainment, because we'd all grown weary of sitting on our butts playing cards or watching a DVD movie. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, recording it is not the same,” Eddie presented his argument while naked, facing me full-frontal before stepping into his briefs. The standard procedure following our two-hour matches is for Eddie and I to take turns using the basement shower, in the bathroom adjacent to the main floor where the gym mats are laid out, while Suzie and Brenda use the upstairs facilities. Caldwells always shower first, and then Brenda and I take ours while Eddie and Suzie prepare snacks for all. “It's the fourth game of the Stanley Cup Finals,” Eddie noted. “Kings are going for the sweep."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I know. I've been watchin' 'em." I unlaced my black Nikes, preparing to take my turn in the shower. Truth be known, I understood how Eddie felt. Watching a sporting event after it's happened, especially playoffs and finals, has a different feel to it. Almost like you're not a loyal fan. Something took precedence over your team's run for the championship, and late to the party diminishes the impact, but then again some things should take precedence. You know, like, your wife! "Geez, man," I pressed on. "This ain't the Super Bowl we're talking about. Just record game four and watch when you get home." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, come on, Mike. Get real," Eddie slipped on fresh gym shorts and a T-shirt. "You know it's not the same thing, and besides, what if the game's still going when I get home? You think I'll sit around twiddling my thumbs until it's over? Then watch the game while everybody else is celebrating?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He had me. No man who knows anything about sports could honestly argue it further. "Well, to hell with you, then." I peeled off my second sock and threw it at him. "I'll take her myself."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Good," he caught my sweaty garment and fired it back at me. "Thought you'd never get around to offering."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dodging my sock, I taunted and teased. "Yeah, well, maybe you should jot down notes on how to take care of your woman."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I take care of her where it matters, my friend. I bring home the bread, and unlike some people who sit on their butts all day,” he pointed at me. “I work hard for my living.” Eddie aimed a straight-right fist for my chest, grinning while lightly pressing my T-shirt to my sternum.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, yeah?” My fists retaliated toward his gut with fake punches, causing him to flinch and giggle while I defended the macho merits of my job. “You think driving a straight truck through city traffic's easy work?” Grabbing his wrist, I circled behind him with a reverse arm lock. “Stopping ten or more times a day to offload heavy cartons with a two-wheeler? Always getting stuck in jams because you street-maintenance clowns have the lanes shut down so you can pretend like you're fixing them?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Okay, okay!” he twisted out of my arm lock. “Get your nasty ass in the shower. You're sweating all over me, you filthy pig.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Get your squeaky-clean ass upstairs and fix me some grub, dick wad.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Wad. An apt description of the man. With a frame short and stocky, Eddie Caldwell's at least two inches below my five feet and eleven inches of height, while his chest is three inches broader than mine. Makes for a good contest on the mat – my long and sinewy limbs versus his thick and muscular. Both of us wrestled in high school. Different schools. I was one year ahead of him, in a much-different weight class, and my accomplishments paled when compared to his senior-year, third-place finish at state competition. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He's shown both Brenda and me a few tricks in the three months we've been wrestling, and so I can hold my own against him in our casual contests. In an all-out match, however, there's no doubt Eddie Caldwell would be one tough cookie to pin. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Even without the Stanley Cup final, he probably would have tried to finagle out of escorting his wife to the play for another reason, and that's the theater itself. An old one from Vaudeville days with rows of seats crammed close together.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sitting with knees cramped for three hours is not exactly what a man needs after a day of hard labor with the city's streets-maintenance department. Eddie stands on pavement for hours filling holes or laying concrete or new asphalt. No easy job, that, especially with wreckless fools whizzing past who disregard the orange barrels and signs telling them to slow down. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's got to be nerve-racking, and so, I was glad to show him mercy and let him stretch out in his recliner to enjoy his precious hockey game. Besides, since it was my Brenda who created this conflict, the least I could do was try and keep both Caldwells happy. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Nearly two years prior, Brenda Willis and Suzie Caldwell met at a gym. Both worked out on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings, and casual conversations revealed their mutual admiration for musical theater and modern drama. Seems they also had a common acquaintance, some woman who was on the board of a community theater league, and so decided to purchase the upcoming season's tickets and attend as a duo. Suzie tried cajoling Eddie to join and was flat-out rejected. Brenda got the same answer from me, and this is when they decided Eddie and I should meet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We were an instant hit, our rabid interest in sports, especially football, college and pro, being the initial catalyst. Since Eddie and I both appreciated trading sarcastic banter regarding people in general and ourselves in particular, our chemistry matched nearly as well as Suzie's and Brenda's, but with one major difference. Whereas I did try to learn about Brenda's (and Suzie's) number one recreational interest – theater – Eddie wanted nothing to do with it. For some reason, whenever Brenda, Suzie or I mentioned anything about any play or musical, Eddie cut off the conversation with a, “Yeah, yeah, that's great,” and an immediate change of subject. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Other than that one sticking point, however, Suzie and Eddie and Brenda and Mike were a good fit. This led to our weekly, Thursday night hook-ups, while Brenda and Suzie also did their theater thing twice a month. For this upcoming Tuesday-night production, however, Brenda's prior commitment to her volunteer work interfered, which left Suzie without a date.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I would be that date. Not only did I take Suzie Caldwell to see her play, we also engaged in some interesting conversation. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Sorry to put you through this, Mike," she said while stepping into my automobile. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No problem. That neighborhood's not like it used to be. Too much riff-raff. I didn't like the thought of you walking around down there by yourself."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I know, but apparently my husband's not the least bit concerned about my welfare.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, I doubt that.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Sometimes he makes me so mad I could spit.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Men can do that,” I tried to soothe her, make it like she wasn't the only wife who suffered. “But I've got a sneaking suspicion he would have done something had I not stepped in.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Like what? Lock me in my room so I couldn't leave?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Well, yeah, or at the last minute get dressed and escort you after all, just to keep the peace.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, I see. Push me to my limits. Test me. That would make for a lovely evening.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Hey, Suzie, consider yourself lucky. I can just see Eddie making you miserable. He'd be fidgeting, shuffling his feet and squeaking his chair. Probably saying something to you at the worst possible moment... you know, like in the middle of a dramatic passage. One of those quiet, intense moments when the actor's about to deliver the key message of the entire play.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She burst into laughter, relating to my point. “You are so right, Mike. He's done that to me in a movie theater before.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I'll bet. And movie seats are soft and comfortable. Not like these tonight.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I know. Poor, Eddie. He simply has no tact.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Few of us do, but we usually make up for it in other areas. Don't you think?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Her sigh, nearly a moan, told me she was now thinking of those other areas. “Oh, Mike, you know me too well.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I know you can't stay angry with him for long.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“It's those eyes. Sometimes they look at me so sweetly. Like Hershey kisses, and I just want to melt in his arms.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“And I can just see you melting in those arms of his.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This time there was no mistaking her moan. “Mm,” she exhaled, and for a second or two I thought she might tell me to turn around and take her home so she could jump his bone, but no such luck. “Mike, you truly are an angel, offering to suffer through this so I won't have to explain why my seats were empty.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Explain to whom?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, that snooty Marsha Tweed. Mrs. Board President of the Theater League herself. Truthfully, I don't care much for Shakespeare, but I am not about to let her know that.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Good grief, I silently lamented. What had I gotten myself in to? Was it too late to back out? My attention span is short enough as it is, but sitting through amateurish attempts to dramatize language I do not understand is a fate worse than death. Oh, well, tough luck, schmuck. Put on your Elizabethan English hat, because you've committed yourself to a night of pure torture. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">First intermission came not soon enough. Neither of us talked about how miserable we were. Instead, Suzie rekindled the topic of her domestic life. “I wonder if Eddie's enjoying himself.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“If it's a tight game, I guarantee he is,” I slurped coffee from a Styrofoam cup while Suzie drank bottled water, both of us standing at a side wall in the lobby. “If it's a blowout, he's probably dozed off by now.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“Without question. Many a time I've caught him asleep during a game,” she stepped to front me, speaking softly, "and usually he has a hard-on." Leaning in closer with a coy winking of her eye, she whispered, "I think the leather turns him on."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I raised my eyebrows, indulging her, "Think he has some leather fantasies, do you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She nodded, her upper teeth pressing her lower lip. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ever test those waters with him?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You mean, a little bondage activity?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Uh-huh." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Not yet, because, hm... how to explain," she blankly looked at the ceiling. "Well, Mike," her mischievous gaze returned to me, "there's more to it than that." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Before she could elaborate, a ringing chime struck by a silly woman dressed in costumed rags told us it was time to take our seats for another round of torture. Act two would soon commence. "I'll tell you later," her finger teasingly poked my tummy, and she grabbed my arm for escort to our seats.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">During the second act, I had to keep looking over to make sure Suzie wasn't Eddie. She fidgeted. Her shoes scraped the floor as she frequently shifted the position of her buttocks on thinly-cushioned seat. Obviously, our conversation had worked her into a dither far-removed from whatever the hell was being acted out on stage. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As for me, hot and bothered can't begin to describe it. Our talk had left me seriously bamboozled. Which of them wanted to be tied up? I figured Eddie, but couldn't be sure. Either way, I wondered what forms of punishment turned them on, and what she meant by saying there was more to it than that. Suzie had me fantasizing all kinds of scenarios, and I'm sure my restless behavior matched hers wiggle for wiggle. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Once the curtain fell on act two, we hastily headed for the lobby, skipped the drinks and returned to our previous standing spot. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Suzie wasted no time. "Mike, I've got an idea. Would you and Brenda be interested in helping me teach Eddie a lesson regarding his priorities?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Probably," I grinned. Her carefully crafted question left no doubt in my mind as to which of them had a penchant for taking some form of punishment. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Why are you smiling?" she anxiously smirked. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Probably," I laughed aloud. "Does it have to do with our next tag team match?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Probably," she giggled, and mercifully for me, her interest in whatever remained of amateur Shakespeare was completely squelched. "Come on, Mike. Take me home. We'll talk on the way."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We talked plenty, and our plotting excited Suzie so, she smacked me on my mouth with her red-glossed lips. Several times. Left more of her lipstick on my cheeks than she took inside to her waiting husband, and I kept every bit of the evidence right where she planted it. Figured the outlines of Suzie's mouth all over my face would make for good conversation when I got home.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(part two in a week)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-29640084584905459792015-08-17T00:12:00.002-05:002015-08-17T00:12:46.887-05:00The Underground Vixens of Ballbreaker Pass - Part 5 - Final<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, Celeste," Jack stroked her silvery hair through his fingers. "We got one problem left to fix. Let's see if our grey goop can help us out.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack coaxed his woman to stand with him above the still-pinned-to-the-floor Bart Conroy, but before either of them could ask him anything, Conroy blurted out a secret.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I kilt a man back in Salina, Kansas."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, did ya now?" Jack chuckled. "Did they catch you?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No. Was an accident. We was ridin' out to..."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"We don't need the story. You killed him and never told nobody. Ain't that right?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yep."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What do ya think we oughtta do about it? There's about 80 witnesses just heard you say that."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I dunno. What do ya wanna do?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack looked to Celeste. "Works like a charm. Guess we're all set."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, we are. Tell him, Jack."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, Bart, we could turn you in... that is, unless you’d like to do us a little favor."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I suspect I will. What is it?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Pete Radcliffe is dead. You saw his body at the bottom of a ravine, or at least what was left of it after the wolves and turkey vultures had their fill. Fell he did. Tumbled about a hunnerd feet. Ain't that right?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Come to think of it, I did see a man's body. All that was left was bones and prison garb. That must've been poor ol' Pete."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I suspect it was. I saw it, too. Guess we better go back and tell 'em what happened."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Guess so."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack stood. "Ladies, dig out my clothes. Me and Bart's goin' to Colorado. Damn threads'll probably rub my skin raw, it's been so long since I wore any."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Celeste ordered that Pete be released from the wheel, while the other two men prepared for their journey. All gathered in the welcoming room, where Pete proceeded to satisfy any female who hadn't already felt what he was packing. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Where's Bart's horse?" Jack asked, clutching his trusty Henry repeating rifle and fully outfitted in the same clothes he'd worn when captured. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Just inside Jacob’s hole," answered Celeste. This was the original entrance to the cave, found by Jacob Nehi and closed by his followers once every person and their wagons were safely inside. To get there, Jack and Bart would climb down from their hole of capture and walk a quarter mile east, where the 10-feet-high opening recessed into rock about eight yards. "Been fed and watered. There's one for you, too. Pack horse he brought with him. Elizabeth‘s watching both." Celeste had sent Elizabeth to fetch the animals after Jack dragged Bart through the hole, figuring it better to give them shelter rather than let them starve to death or fall prey to carnivores. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ok, darling, I'll leave it with you. Should be about five days. I’ll make sure Mr. Conroy gets his story straight. If I ain't back, go ahead without me. Pete can handle about anything, with or without me."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They looked over to see Pete lying on his back with hands folded under his head for a pillow. Females surrounded him. They one at a time were mounting their steed's mighty cock, riding him like there was no tomorrow.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, Jack," Celeste grinned. "I think Pete can handle anything or anyone just fine."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Pete," he yelled, "I'll see ya when I get back."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ok." Pete was oblivious to everything except the fuck, but then thought to ask, "Hey, Jack, how long does this stuff work? My dick ain't ever been this hard this long."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hell, son, I don't know. Guess you can just keep on pokin' holes forever till your pecker's had enough."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Fine by me," and Pete returned to his duties. Wasn't a bad idea, he thought. Not a bad life for an escaped convict. Living in a cave, hidden from the outside world, fed, tended to and worshiped by a gaggle of horny females for the rest of your days, but unbeknownst to Pete, Celeste had other plans. She would allow Pete Radcliffe to fuck her daughters until their appetites were satisfied, and then she'd prepare this man for the future -- his very worthwhile future. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"We are Mormons," she told him on the third day of Jack's absence, when Pete's craving for sex had finally subsided enough so that he'd listen to anything not related to the subject of fornicating. "Jacob and I broke away when Brigham decided to attack those settlers. Killing innocents has nothing to do with our faith. Jacob brought us all here to continue the true teachings of Joseph Smith."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, Pete didn't have a clue as to what she was talking about -- hadn't even heard of the massacre of settlers passing through Utah territory on their way further west. But he sat and listened with respect. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"When we discovered the power of that grey muck in the pool, Jacob knew that was his calling. His duty to God was to right the wrongs of this wild country, but Jacob up and died on me before we could get started. When we stumbled upon Jack, I thought he'd be the perfect man, but he shot blanks. It won't work without manseed, Pete."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What won't work?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"That grey liquid. It's a truth serum, but it only works when it's fired from the penis of a virile man."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You mean, a man like me?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"To me, you're man enough without the serum, but when that muck is in your belly, you feel no pain. No other man can match your strength, nor speed, nor any other physical ability. With the serum inside you, dear Pete, you are invincible."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack Hutch did return on that fifth day, and I suppose you‘ll think me a genuine cad for leaving things as they are right here. But hell, what am I supposed to do? Sit here and write ten books all at once?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete and Jack truly did become crime-fighters of the American West. Their many adventures entail sagas of defending the downtrodden and rescuing those in peril. Pete and Jack also, together or solo, often fell into the clutches of evil men and evil women, suffered through interrogations and tortures, but always won the day with their amazing strength and sexual prowess. And all because of that amazing discovery in Jacob Nehi's cave -- grey gunk that smelled to high heaven. Sure, it could burn the hairs right out of a man's nostrils, but it also served as truth serum to those who'd done wrong, and as the protector of right-minded, horny men. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And so, yes, now that you know how Pete came to be a he-man I must end his beginning, but he will emerge from his cave some day, when I get around to unsealing what Jacob Nehi closed. Look for him along with Jack Hutch, and together we will relive the wild escapades of… </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete Radcliffe, He-man of the American West</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">* * * * *</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">the end</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-4347696118570082792015-08-09T23:24:00.000-05:002015-08-09T23:24:38.674-05:00The Underground Vixens of Ballbreaker Pass - Part 4b<span style="font-size: large;">Into the room came another naked man, groggily stumbling between the grasping hands of two daughters. "Hey, I know that fellow," exclaimed Pete. "That's Bart Conroy, from Montezuma County."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, Pete," Celeste confirmed. "We dragged him out of that hole same as we did you. Been wrestling him ever since. He claims he's the tracker from that prison you were in."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Right as rain, that's exactly who he is. How long has he been here?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Jack heard a rustling when we were giving you a bath and you were asleep." </span><span style="font-size: large;">She gazed over to Jack, who was wildly spinning on the wheel, whooping and hollering on his orgasmic merry-go-round. "Jack went up there and dragged that tracker in all by himself. Jack's one hell of a man, but he's got no seed. Screws like a mad dog, but nothing comes out."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Grunts, screams and moans confirmed it, as Jack's spinning cock contracted blanks and his aged girlfriend spasmed real juice. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Are you happy, Maggie?" Jack chuckled as the wheel came to a halt. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The poor thing nearly collapsed, forcing the others to rescue her in their arms. She babbled ecstatically, "Oh, my god. What a fucking man. Lordy, lordy, lordy, I love that man's pecker."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As for Jack, he posed just like Pete, puffing up his broad chest, sucking in his thick and well-sculptured belly, begging for more. "Gimme anothern, Celeste. I'll fix all of 'em good."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete broke into laughter, "Me, too, Celeste. Gimme anothern."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack got his wish, but Pete got something else. "Got to try something first, young man. This Conroy fellow's got some learning to do. Back him up there, ladies."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They pounced on the weakened man like carnivorous beasts, lifting him up with his knees bent and thighs spread wide. Conroy was tilted so that his upper torso was horizontal while the rest of him was vertical position, chest down, waist bent, and arms pulled past his head by hands holding his wrists. He was shaped like an L turned to the right. One of the females spit on her hand and rubbed her slickum onto Bart's anus, while another did the same with her spit onto Pete's hard pecker. Then, they impaled Bart Conroy onto Pete’s dick. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete could not have cared less. For him, in his state of lustful craziness any hole would do, but for the owner of that hole it was a different matter. Conroy howled in ungodly pain, as female youngsters mercilessly thrust his ass onto the pole, sending Pete's ram-rodding tool past the man's rim with no regard as to Bart Conroy's comfort. There was no time for him to do anything but scream, as that fat and impaling cock was buried to the very depths of Conroy’s bowels. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ok, Sarah, give Pete a whirl. Ladies, hold that ass steady."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete loved it. Mr. Conroy's virgin ass was just as tight as any pussy he'd ever felt and the increasing revolutions gave him all the friction he needed. Another orgasmic rocket flooded Bart's rectum, as he let out howls worthy of a bitch in heat. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When the wheel stopped, they yanked his ass free of Pete's cock just as violently as they'd connected it, and then laid Conroy on the floor chest up with arms and legs pinned.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Make sure that asshole stays closed," Celeste chuckled. Fists planted firmly to the sides of each butt cheek did the trick, as they kept Conroy's ass shut tight. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Bridget stood before her mother. "I did a bad thing..."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I know," Celeste interrupted. "We all have done bad things. I forgive you."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The elderly ladies weren't paying much attention to all of this, because they were busy taking turns on Jack's carnival ride, and as for Pete, he was feeling no pain. "Ok, Celeste. Who's next? Man? Woman? I don't care."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I know you don't, Pete. Do you know why?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Can't explain it." He expanded his chest and thrust it towards her. "Wanna lick me? I feel like the horniest fella who's ever born."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She burst into laughter. "You are, Pete. You are the horniest, and the manliest man ever born, because of that gunk you swallowed. As long as that grey mud is in your belly, nothing's going to stop you from shooting one load after another. Let me show you something else, too."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Celeste stepped onto the stools, then reached up with both hands to take Pete's manly nipples between fingers and thumbs. With a violent pinch, she twisted both, clamping with all her strength. "This ought to hurt. Does it?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, I don't feel much of anything there."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“How about this?” She reared back and punched him in the belly as hard as she could. Fist met muscle with a deep thud, but all Pete could do was laugh.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Stop it, woman. That tickles.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"That goo protects you from pain... deadens it. All you feel is your masculine sex drive. Now, feel this."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She returned to his tits, but this time her fingers lovingly squeezed and rubbed on them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Holy shit! My dick just got bigger."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, it can't get any bigger," she chuckled, while moving forward to mount him. "It just feels that way. Like a man. That's all you can feel."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You don't need to spin me, Celeste. Just do that nipple thing. I'll do the rest."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, we can do better than that." She felt the amazing strength of the man all pinpointed to one place: his powerful cock, fully imbedded to her crushing vagina. "Daughters of Nehi, join us. Set Jack free. The man we need is right here."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Celeste stood clamping Pete in her magical vise while tenderly stimulating his ever-shrinking tits. Within seconds, molestation commenced. Pete arched his back, sucked in his belly and thrust forward his chest, as a plethora of tongues, lips, hands and fingers enveloped him. With the exception of those females securing Conroy, they all had a taste of Pete wherever they could find an available piece of Pete's skin. All females took their turns. All females ravaged him. All females lavished Pete Radcliffe with the praise only a man such as he deserves. And all the while, the vagina of Celeste squeezed and comforted his mighty cock inside her warm, velvety vise. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">From behind, Jack positioned the stools from his wheel so he could step up to work on Celeste. He massaged the breasts of the matriarch, delicately rubbing and pinching her hardened nipple tips. Pete's incredible tool surged to spread her vaginal walls, and she clamped her inside muscles as tight as she could to steady herself. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'm ready," she moaned. "Leave him be." All tongues were removed. "Send him." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The wheel was given a sudden spin. Pete‘s powerful pole whirled inside her, and the poor woman shuddered. "God, Jack, hold me tight. We done found us a he-man. There's nothing in the world like this. Pete Radcliffe's got the cock to beat all cocks. He's the most... incredible... oh, my god... what an amazing... man... what a... fuck... ing... god... damn... ma... ah... uh..."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Only Jack's hands clamped to her breasts kept Celeste upright. Every muscle, every nerve in her body twitched and convulsed, as Pete's magical seed jettisoned deep into her bosom - his cock's fat, powerful thickness violently corkscrewed her vibrating pussy hole. Lustful, indescribable sounds connected to some pre-historic civilization nearly crumbled the rock walls surrounding them. Pete Radcliffe and Celeste Nehi had returned to a time when Neanderthals ruled the earth. The Caveman, dominant and indestructible, wholly conquered his female tribe. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The wheel did eventually stop and Jack tenderly removed Celeste from Pete's forever-throbbing manhood. He gently laid her on the floor, cradling the mesmerized woman in his arms. "We done good, darlin'," Jack comforted her. "Jacob's smiling down on us right now."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"And it works," Celeste gazed up at him. "Doesn't it, Jack?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"We're about to find out just how good."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">next part in a week</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-68980607537726034692015-08-02T23:38:00.000-05:002015-08-02T23:38:25.623-05:00The Underground Vixens of Ballbreaker Pass - Part 4a<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Part 4 - Spinning the Wheel</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Bringing buckets of water, the women drenched Pete's undulating form to rinse away grey goo, then carried him out suspended by four limbs. For the first time, Pete entered room number four, where he was reunited with Jack Hutch. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here were the other two wagon wheels, both still attached to their axles. They'd been rigged so that the axles were set horizontally into grooved, wooden stands and counter-weighted with heavy rocks bundled by rope netting. These bundled rocks were suspended by one strand of rope from each bundle, looped over the axles at opposite ends to the wheels. This made the wheels stand vertical with their lowest edge about ten inches off the cave floor. The wooden stands holding them, along with the bundled counter-weights, allowed the wheels to spin just as if they were attached to the wagon from which they'd come. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Howdy, Pete," Jack chuckled. "Did you eat lots of that grey shit?" His light-hearted question was asked from a seemingly dire predicament: Jack Hutch, stripped naked, was bound to one of the wheels. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">His legs were spread wide and ankles extended just outside the rim, his legs secured by ropes wrapped around his shins and through spokes of the wheel. Also tied in ropes were Jack's wrists. With his hands folded behind his head and wrists bound together, another rope secured his wrists to the rim of the wheel, leaving the crown of his head to rest against the palms of his hands. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And as if this bondage wasn’t precarious enough, Jack Hutch was upside down. With his buttocks covering the center hub, causing his pelvis to be thrust forward, Jack's naked body was inverted while his healthy scrotum hung handsomely vulnerable. His cock also hung exposed. And speaking of handsome, gravity brought this old man’s fuck tool in a straight line down his belly clear past his belly button. That’s not all. His scraggly beard was gone, shaven clean, and with this new appearance Jack Hutch looked to be mid-forties at most. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, no need to answer," Jack laughed while focusing on Pete's engorged cock. "I can see you’ve done been dunked."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Upright him," Celeste ordered. "Having fun, Jack?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You know it, mama. I aim to please."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ok, girls," Mrs. Nehi barked. "String that one up like this one." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete Radcliffe was fixed to the second wheel, bound in the same manner as Jack in an upright positon.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Get ready for a wild ride, son." Jack smiled. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'm afraid to ask you, Jack, but what the hell is this all about?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"This here cave's got four rooms that we know of, Pete. There's the waitin' room where you met me; the welcome room where you got to wrestle; the skinny dippin' room where you got dunked; and this."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What's this? The torture room?" Pete gazed to his male companion, as the females tied the final knot of his ropes. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack laughed, "Well, maybe, dependin' on how you wanna look at it."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ok, I get it. You can't tell me."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Both men looked at one another. Two men, separated by about six feet, bodies spread wide, turned upright and vertically bound to their wheels, Jack and Pete scanned each other's naked bodies. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, Pete, I can't say anything. Don't wanna scare you."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack's impressive tool pointed straight forward, piercing nearly eight inches of air, while Pete's, surprisingly to him, also remained as hard as when he'd left the dunking room. Being with Jack comforted Pete. He figured that regardless of whatever tortures lay ahead for him, at least Jack had been through and survived them. More importantly, Pete felt a bond with this man. For whatever reason, Jack’s presence allayed his fears. He‘d guided Pete through one mysterious ordeal after another and Pete reckoned that as long as they were together they could handle whatever punishments these vixens cared to throw at them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He tested the ropes and their knots, flexing and straining to see if they'd give. Of course, they didn't, but his efforts certainly excited his spectators. Pete's masculine form, still defiant, bound and helpless with manly tool primed for action caused a stir amongst the ladies. His body still glistened with a combination of water and sweat, his dark brown hair sparkling with tiny beads from the top of his head to the tops of his feet. With Pete performing as the lust-crazed, masculine beast he was, 80 female hands self-massaged 40 female pussies. With Jack joining Pete to display his own strength, clenching his scrotum to make his cock bob up and down and wave to the ladies, 40 fingers fingered 40 clits and 40 streams of vaginal juices began to trickle.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After two wooden stools were placed on the floor in front of Pete, Celeste tapped the shoulder of the youngster, Josie. This pretty brunette stepped up with one foot on each, then took Pete's throbbing cock into her hand, holding it steady while she covered him with her pussy hole. Finally, Pete felt the loving warmth of a vibrating vagina. She clinched her interior muscles to squeeze his pulsating pole, then threw back her arms, locking her hands behind her head. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sarah, the muscular blond, spun the wheel. Pete spun with it. Two voices, one male and one female, let out slight whimpers, as a tantalizing sensation stirred their innards. Sarah increased the speed of revolution. One turn outpaced the next, as animalistic howls echoed from one rock wall to another. Pete's body became a blur, while Josie arched her back and thrust forward her pelvis, driving Pete's frantically rotating cock into her pussy for maximum penetration. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For Pete, the penis wasn't the only thing spinning. His head became lighter than air and all vision became white. All he could feel was the indescribable ecstasy of this rotating fuck. Spinning friction of warm wetness consumed and lifted him to a frenzied state of unbridled masculinity. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Two voices cried out words of English, "Oh, god; holy shit," coupled with sounds and utterances known only to sexual climax, as man and woman spewed their orgasmic fluids, dual eruptions and emotions never before felt. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sarah let go the handle. Revolutions slowed. Pete's body stopped with his feet up and head down. Ecstatic moans filled the room, as Josie withdrew her pussy, uncovered Pete's cock and stepped down from the stools. Reaching for the rim, Josie turned the wheel to bring Pete upright, where he gasped for air, hypnotized with lust. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"There ya are, Pete," Jack's voice of joy brought everybody back to reality. "This here's the milking room, but there ain't no cow teats to milk - just man dicks."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"That's right, young man," Celeste joined in. "And that's exactly what we're going to do. Marjorie, you're next."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Still primed and ready, Pete's poker again was covered by another salivating pussy hole and the wheel turned to produce the next psychotic, wall-crumbling, double-orgasmic explosion of animal sounds and human creams.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They left him upright, chest heaving, with manly tool still primed for action. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Lookin' good, Pete," Jack chuckled. "I think you'll be makin' up for those three years of nothing to fuck, you fornicatin' he-man."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Contrary to what should have been, Pete felt like a sex-crazed, nut-busting maniac. He expanded his chest, sucked in his belly and thrust forward his cock while grunting like a caveman, “Ugh… bring it on, woman."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Celeste prompted Bridget to take a ride on the spinning cock, but as she mounted Pete and Sarah turned the handle, Josie dropped to her knees in tears. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Momma, I did a bad thing."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Celeste comforted her daughter, lifting Josie to stand while her other daughter shrieked with delights of spinning Pete-meat. "What is it, my darling?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I put my fingers in that hole." She pointed to Sarah. "I put my tongue in there, too."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, Josie, that is bad, but only because you and Sarah did not ask me first. You have confessed. You are forgiven."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As Josie walked away, Marjorie took her place to confess all of her sins, following it up with a pleading. "Momma, you've got to let Pete go. He's the most amazing man we could ever hope for. Please stop torturing him."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"All right, dear. You're a good girl. We're not torturing Pete. Look at him. He's a happy man."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Indeed he was. With a third orgasm completed and cock aching for another round, Pete writhed in a frenetic ecstasy. He looked to his buddy. "Shit, Jack. Ain't you gonna get some?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I don't know, Pete. What about it, Celeste? Send one of them old birds up here. I'm ready to go."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You old lecher," she bellowed. "You're always ready to go."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She directed an old one to step up for a ride on Jack's pole, but had a surprise for Pete. "Bring in our prisoner."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">end of 4a</span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-81731380694817224822015-07-26T21:19:00.000-05:002015-07-26T21:22:10.521-05:00The Underground Vixens of Ballbreaker Pass - Part 3b<span style="font-size: large;">With a snap of her fingers, stomping feet rained down on Pete, while Celeste urged him to fight back. Of course, he did the best he could for a man outnumbered and bound with ankle rope, but just as before, exhaustion did him in. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They left him prone on his back for a few minutes until his panting for air slowed a bit, then in a flash Pete was lifted up by the arms and bound ankles for transport with his butt hanging. Back through the tunnel, they brought him into the welcoming room where he heard a commotion over by the pen. Another wrestling match was taking place and it looked like Jack was in the middle of it, but the entourage was too far away for Pete to be sure. Of one thing he was certain, whoever was in the middle of that pen was getting the holy crap beaten out of him, something with which Pete was all too familiar. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Take him to the dipping room," Celeste shouted from behind, and the group exited the main area. Directly into that tunnel they went and when they emerged, Pete saw Sarah and two others standing knee-deep in that grey, slimy pool of nose-burning muck. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Cut his ropes and toss him in."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete squirmed in a desperate struggle to break free, but with two females assigned to each limb, all he could do was helplessly hang as they swung him towards the slime and let go. He splashed into the pool seat first, gravity taking him below the surface to crash land onto his butt. With palms flat, Pete sat in the thick, salty-sulfur-smelling but soothingly-warm slime, which covered every part of him but for his head and shoulders. Before he could react, Sarah put him in a headlock while the other two secured kicking legs and swinging arms. They wrestled his head under the surface and held him there for several seconds, then raised him up coughing and gasping for air. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"C'mon, you mouse," Celeste mocked. "Fight for your life."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Again they tried to dunk him, but Pete managed to lock both arms straight onto the solid rock floor to keep his head above the gunk. Twisting and pulling with the leverage of a professional, Sarah inched his mouth closer and closer, while the others pushed on his legs and torso, rolling him over to endure another dunking. And so, mud wrestling ensued. Three women against one man, as Pete was repeatedly taken down to ingest slick, salty, sulfuric muck. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He gallantly fought with everything he had. He kicked, he punched, he squirmed, but the result was always the same: another dunking for Pete. Exhausted, his resistance faded to that of a little boy as Sarah held firm around his head and they kept him under for nearly ten seconds. They raised him. He coughed and recovered. They dunked him again for another ten before letting him up from that foul-smelling and worse-tasting gunk. He coughed and spewed the nasty liquid from his mouth, nearly gagging from the burning brine and fumes that came with it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"That'll do, girls. Put him in the nook."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They brought him to a cornered area, draped his arms outside the pool to rest on the rock surface, while supporting his buttocks with their arms underneath. Two females outside the pool grabbed Pete's wrists and lifted him out to lay spread eagle on hard rock. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I think you've swallowed enough. Does it taste good?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Constantly spitting out grey goo, he continued to gag and did not answer, but he sensed a throbbing cock and lifted his head to confirm it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I see you like wrestling with my girls," she laughed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They rubbed that slick muck deep into the Pete’s pores, which only further intensified the strength of his throbbing tool. Pete lay flat to enjoy the sensations of countless massaging hands, hoping, but not asking, that one of them would either mount, suck, or at the very least take his dick into their fist for some tantalizing masturbation. Nobody touched poor Pete's beautiful cock. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With a clap of their matriarch's hands, all females rose to their feet and stepped back from the prisoner, leaving him to lustfully writhe on the stone floor.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I think he's fired up plenty," Celeste taunted. "Time to give him a whirl."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">end of 3b</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-89143936827732507912015-07-19T22:08:00.001-05:002015-07-19T22:08:51.487-05:00The Underground Vixens of Ballbreaker Pass - Part 3a<span style="font-size: large;">Part 3 - Everybody Wants Some Man-Meat </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They lifted and carried Pete back through the hole from where he'd come, back to the little room where he'd met Jack. Here, they sat him on his butt and gave him water, of which he drank plenty. As the last female stepped toward the exit, Pete asked with the sweetest voice he could muster, "Miss, could I get something to eat? I'm powerful hungry."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She didn't even bother to turn around, instead disappearing into the tunnel as though she hadn't heard him at all. With nowhere to go and nothing of promise to look forward to, Pete fell onto his side and quickly collapsed into a deep slumber. No memories of grandpa Seth this time. Finally, Pete Radcliffe could sleep in peace, figuring this form of incarceration was a far cry better than the one he'd left behind in Colorado. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was a long while before he was stirred from his coma. Pete had dreams - fantasies of those female hands all over him, but this time they were smooth as silk, almost like they were velvet-gloved. He felt them all over his back side from head to toes and in the butt crack. He felt them on and in between his fingers, arms and pits, chest, belly, thighs and calves. He especially felt them on his balls and cock, where they seemed to linger for an awfully long and pleasurable amount of time, before he was jolted from this soothing dream world by a drenching of water. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete sprang up to sit on his butt just as another bucket was poured onto his head. Two more came flying from either side of him, as the ladies rinsed away the last of his stink. Without a word, they one by one disappeared into the tunnel, leaving Pete alone, dripping clean and starving worse than before. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Feel better?" Jack's voice came from the shadows. He stood and walked towards Pete. "C'mon, let's get you more comfortable." Lifting under the armpits, Jack maneuvered the ankle-bound man to a wall and brought his back to lean up against it. "Are ya hungry, boy?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hungry ain't the word for it, Jack."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'll fix ya right up." He headed for the far wall, lifted the lid off a small black kettle and spooned some sort of stew into a bowl. Bringing the meal closer, Jack could barely let go before Pete yanked away the bowl to shovel every drop into his mouth. No time to chew, he swallowed it whole and licked the bowl clean, all gone in 30 seconds. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"More, please," Pete asked, noticing that the bowl was of an indoor type, made of porcelain with a fancy border. The spoon looked to be of a fine silver plating, now tarnished. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Like it, do ya?" Jack smiled while serving up another helping.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Right now, I'd like just about anything you wanna give me. What is it, anyway?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, Pete," he chuckled. "What critters do you know of that live in a cave?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hell, I don't know." He slurped one spoonful after another, this time allowing his tongue to get a taste before sending it down the hatch. "Spiders, snakes, birds, bats... what else you got?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"That about covers it. Could be any or all of 'em."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete stopped, thought about it, then continued to devour. "Where'd you get the fancy dishes?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"God damn it boy," he whined in a good-natured way. "Don't start up again."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Sonuva bitch, Jack, can't you tell me anything?" He spit beads of stew, clearly frustrated. "And quit calling me boy. I'm a grown man, for Christ's sake."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ah, hell, Pete, I'm sorry." Jack dropped his head. "I know you're a man. One hell of a man. It's just that you remind me of a young man I used to run with, that's all. Back in my prospectin' days."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You were a prospector? For what?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Any metal worth anything. I was hopin' for veins of copper or silver when I crawled in to take a look at that hole."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You mean the hole I was in?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yep. They dragged me out… or in, just like they done you."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What'd they do to you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, they had big plans for me, Pete. I done fucked every one of 'em time and again, but all they got was..."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What?" he asked while handing the bowl over for a third helping. "What'd they get, Jack?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ah, hell," Jack dejectedly answered. "It ain't somethin' I'm proud of." He handed Pete another dose of stew, then sat beside him. "Let's just say they got their own satisfaction. Still do, when I'm up for it, which is most the time."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Why didn't you help me, Jack? Why'd you let them beat the hell out of me?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Because I went through the same thing. No one helped me. Besides, I know where this is headed. The worst is over. Don't worry, Pete. We men gotta stick together. We'll be fine."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete struck Jack's thigh with a good-natured slap. "Guess I'll have to trust you. Got no other choice."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"That's right," Jack chuckled, while returning the thigh slap. "You know, Pete, prospectin's a lonely business. That young feller I ran with was about your age. Name was Rodney, but I called him Rod. You know why?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I dunno. Nickname?" he guessed between slurps of stew. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Partly, but more because I thought he had just about the purdiest pecker I'd ever laid eyes on. Balls, too. When Rod was hangin' with me, he was never wantin' for nothin'."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Took good care of him, did you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Had to. Nobody else around for a hundred miles. Situation like that, men gotta stick together… like I said.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete never flinched when Jack's hand cupped Pete's balls. He merely continued to empty his bowl.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yep. Watchin' you perform for the ladies brought it all back. Your dick's just as handsome, but you got purdier nuts. Big and juicy they are."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I can't believe they hand jacked it." He sat the dry bowl to the ground. "All those women and not a one of them took me up their twat or in their mouth. Kinda disappointing."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ol' Jack will take care of that," he whispered, while bringing his second hand to gently clutch the spongy cock-shaft. "If you'll let him."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete never said a word, instead pressing his hands to the dirt and maneuvering himself away from the wall. "Sure, Jack. Have at it."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete lay flat on his back, sprawling his arms past his head. With ankles bound in rope, Pete drew up his knees like a butterfly, giving room between his thighs for Jack to get at his ball sac. Just the thought of having a warm, wet tongue on his nuts and pecker had Pete 50 percent hard already, and he closed his eyes to enjoy whatever service Jack could come up with. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"God damn it, Jack," echoed the piercing voice of an old woman. "What the hell are you doing?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Celeste... I was just gonna ..."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Gonna what? Drain him? You were warned, Jack Hutch."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A gaggle of females surrounded and grabbed hold, dragging Jack to the tunnel, but not before he could blurt out to Pete, "Son, don't believe what you see. I ain't as old as you think." He continued to shout as they disappeared into darkness. "I can still screw with the best of 'em. You'll see, I ain't licked yet." Jack's voice faded away, his information only further confusing Pete as to what the hell this was all about, so he asked. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“Damn you, Celeste Nehi, what the hell is this all about?“</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Pete Radcliffe, you may think you're a big man, but you ain't shown me nothing yet.” The old gal seemed to be in a sour mood. “Should've known I couldn't trust that old fool. Or you neither. Men! Bah! So typical. Understand this, Mr. Pete Radcliffe. Women rule here. This is my temple. You and Jack will learn the hard way what happens to men who desecrate my temple."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">end of part 3a</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">*****</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-73961162071765546542015-07-12T23:35:00.000-05:002015-07-12T23:35:16.694-05:00The Underground Vixens of Ballbreaker Pass - Parts 1b and 2<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Three years of swinging a pick ax had produced a Pete strong and chiseled, but nearly two days of running from the law with no food or water had made him weak and puny. Resigned to his fate, and noticing that the females seemed to be taking a breather from their hard-earned victory, Pete inspected what he could see. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With the floor mostly flat, the ceiling of this cavern reached up into total darkness, while the rock walls were mostly pinkish and sand-colored. The entire area was rectangular, with the farthest distance between parallel walls at least 25 yards. Besides the one Pete had come through, there were two more holes big enough to enter or exit, depending on how you wanted to look at it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Spaced willy-nilly about the walls were makeshift lean-to's of wooden sticks and cloth. Two wagon wheels were counted and some sort of pen had been cordoned off by a wood-rail fence, looking to be about 16 feet square, but with nothing inside it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As for the women, Pete guessed there to be around 40 of those, half older and half about his age. He gazed up at the healthy blond sitting on his chest. Trim, fit, shaped with sinewy muscles, her expression was that of a savage, but natural features told Pete she was, or had at one time been, a refined and civilized girl. Being a man denied for far too many months, he automatically focused on her well-rounded breasts, soft skin and hard nipples. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It wasn't exactly a convenient moment to get aroused considering his state of vulnerability, but the touch of rough fingers rubbing on his nuts triggered an immediate response. As his penis filled with blood, he desperately turned to the only other man present. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What is it, Jack? What do they want?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, Pete, there ain't no use me telling you just yet. They got a lot of funnin' planned, I can tell you that. Might as well just get used to the fact that these women are gonna do whatever the hell they want with ya. This is their welcoming room." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">More hands joined in. They went to work on his feet and legs, while blondie scooted her butt to the end of his sternum so she could double hand-rub on his furry chest. Their hands were rough like a man's, but their techniques soft like a woman's. They were all over him, assaulting every part of his top side, except for his fully-hardened pecker that bobbed up and down on his stretched belly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Who are they?" he pleaded. "Can't they talk?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"That will do," came a graveled, but feminine voice. "That will do just fine."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As the massaging hands left him and pinning hands stayed, an elderly woman appeared from beyond the chest-sitting female. This woman’s hair was gray and skin wrinkled. In contrast, her physique was nearly as fit as the young amazons in the group. A thin, animal-hide strip was worn around her neck, but nothing more. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"We can speak just fine, mister. Don't usually have a call to, though."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Who the hell are you? What do you want from me?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My name is Celeste Nehi and this is the temple of Jacob. It is named for my husband."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I thought he said his name was Jack Hutch."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Not him, my husband isn't here, but his spirit is. Every one of these youngsters came from the seed of Jacob Nehi. That's my daughter Sarah sitting on your chest. She was the last born."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete looked up at the buxom female, as she threatened him with a snarl. "I'm gonna beat the holy shit out of you." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Her first words to him, thought Pete, were not exactly an invitation to romance, or at least not to any sort of lovin’ he‘d been dreaming about for the past three years. "Jack," he shouted, while struggling against his captors, "what's wrong with 'em? What do they want?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Still hunched near the tunnel hole, Jack's voice this time was stern. "Can't tell ya, Pete. Quit askin' me."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, indeedie," the old woman cackled, "that will do." She stepped back and twice clapped her hands. "Take him to the arena."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Part 2 - Corralled</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They turned Pete onto his belly, brought his wrists together and prepared to lift him up, but with a renewed burst of energy, he jerked hands and feet free, then rolled far enough to get some separation from his captors. Springing to his feet, he ran for the nearest hole, plunging into darkness for but six paces, then entering another room. Cascading down the wall was clear water, which pooled into a sunken pit of grey, slimy muck. The smell of sulfur and salt penetrated his nostrils, as he searched for another means of escape, but with the possible exception of whatever was under that goo, the only way out was the way he'd come in. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With his first attempt of escaping a failure, Pete reluctantly allowed the women to escort him back to their welcoming room, to the arena, that penned area squared by four-sided wood-rail fence. Loose dirt comprised the floor, while the top rail of each side stood four feet high. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They lifted him over, tossed him inside the pen while the rest of them stood outside the perimeter both as guards and as spectators. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You're just a firecracker, ain't ya?" mocked the grey-haired matriarch, Celeste Nehi. "Ok, Pete..." she turned to shout at Jack. "What's his last name?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Strolling towards the pen, he answered, "Pete Radcliffe."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ok, Pete Radcliffe, the rules of this game are simple. There ain't none. Whoever's pinned for a three count's a loser. No submissions. I'll start you with two and add another after a 100-count. Do what you gotta do."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The situation was hopeless. Each younger vixen stood at ringside, itching to get their hands on him, while the elders formed a second line behind them. Celeste Nehi stood inside one corner post, ready to officiate this massacre. Weakened by thirst and hunger, Pete asked for just a bit of mercy. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Could I at least have some water before we start?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With a sigh of exasperation, she consented. "Jack, get him a drink."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Returning with a porcelain mug full, Jack leaned over the rail and handed it to Pete, whispering, "Don't worry, boy. They won't hurt you too bad."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He gulped down the cool refreshment in three swallows, handing the mug to Jack. "More?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No," barked Celeste. "Sarah and Josie, you're first."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Like wild animals they leaped into the ring, slowly stalking their quarry into one corner. Pete knew only one thing - fisticuffs, and he possessed a potent punch, but these cagey wrestlers stayed out of range, tempting him to come towards the center. With the blond Sarah to his left and brunette Josie to his right, Pete crouched defensively in the corner. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Soon tired of the standoff, Celeste warned him. "The count's 30, mister. You better get busy or soon you'll be facing three."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In a flash, Pete stutter-stepped with a fencing motion towards Josie, threw a left jab that missed, then a right cross that connected with her left titty. As she howled behind him, Pete lunged towards Sarah, who deftly side-stepped his charge, extending a leg to trip him, coupled with a forearm across his back to send him crashing into the rail. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Stunned, he staggered back a few steps, where Sarah hooked her right arm with his, extended a leg and flipped him over her hip. Pete landed onto the dirt flat on his chest, as each women took hold a leg and raised them up to secure him in a double Boston crab. Leaning onto his buttocks with all their strength, the amazon duo nearly broke Pete’s back in two. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"99 and 100," Celeste shouted to announce more bad news. "Marjorie, go get him."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Launching herself from the top rail, Marjorie came crashing down with both feet onto Pete's back, just as the other two released him from the crab. Three bare feet began to stomp on his backside, causing him to roll over, only to receive the same to his top side. Dropping to the dirt, Sarah quickly put the man into a brutal head scissors between crunching thighs, while Josie grabbed both ankles and stretched him lengthwise. More stomps followed, courtesy of Marjorie, to the chest, to the stomach and belly. Manly grunts and groans echoed throughout the cave, as Pete withstood this three-pronged assault. Sinewy thigh muscles clamped onto his neck cut circulation to his brain, nearly causing him to pass out, but Sarah relaxed just enough to keep him alert. She wanted him to feel every foot stomping his exposed torso. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then, all holds were released. Pete lay spread eagle, motionless except for his heaving chest and belly. Sarah did the honors by flinging her body across his, as Celeste counted one... two... but Pete planted both feet flat onto the dirt and lifted with all his strength to send Sarah tumbling to one side. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, lookee there. He did a kick-out," exclaimed Celeste. "I was hoping three wouldn't be enough. Don't want to spoil our fun." She pointed to the next opponent. "Mary, your turn."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A new attack commenced with a turning of the weakened man onto his belly. Josie grabbed both ankles, Mary got his wrists and they lifted him up, quartered and suspended in mid-air with chest hanging. Straddling him like he was a young steed, Marjorie sat on his back to further bend his spine downward, while Sarah slid underneath and went to work. Using short, upward jabs, she pounded into his hard, stretched abdominals, pulverizing every inch from the pit of his stomach to the lowest reaches of his belly. Deep-throated grunts coincided with each blow, as the torturous weight of the cruel mount riding his back curved his spine to a near breaking point while stretching his chest and abdomen nice and tight.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sarah continued to launch short punches into his exposed gut, and then humiliated the poor man by grabbing both nipples between fingers and thumbs. Mercilessly, she gave him double titty-twisters, causing the titty owner to howl with grief. After a few more hard knocks to his middle section, Sarah rolled out from underneath, Marjorie dismounted and the other two dropped him like a rock. Pete crashed chest-first into the dirt. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They rolled him over and again Sarah draped herself across his prone body for a count of one... two... and another defiant kick-out. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, god damn, Pete," Celeste complimented. "Maybe you're not such a sissy-boy after all. Bridget, see if you can finish him off."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack stood behind the leader, proud that this fellow was holding up to the brutal assault of four, soon to be five, young women. All these vicious females working on one helpless man, yet he continued to find enough strength to rebuff their attempted pins. As he watched Pete push upwards with his arms in a struggle to rise, Jack shouted out words of encouragement. "Don't give up, Pete. Show 'em what a man can do."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A few stomps to the back sent Pete chest down onto the dirt, then Sarah pounced on top of him. She hooked her arms underneath his, brought hers up to lock her hands behind his neck, then pulled up his arms to secure him in a full nelson. With one swift jerk, she rolled over onto her back, bringing Pete with her to lie atop and crush her bulbous titties. She pulled his arms down with ruthless authority, while pressing the back of his neck with her locked hands. Marjorie and Josie each grabbed an ankle to stretch him lengthwise, adding further agony to an already painful hold. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This poor man lay there groaning in futile agony, as his back arched, chest thrust upwards and middle section collapsed from the merciless full nelson. Two women who had nothing to do knelt on either side of Pete’s expanded rib cage, not to inflict more pain, but torment. Two hands lay flat onto his rippled belly; two more frantically rubbed his heaving chest. One man versus five women, Pete never had a chance. His cock instantly sprang to life and flipped from down to up. Lips touched the pit of his stomach and furred chest, and along with it came a complaint. "He stinks."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"That's right, Bridget," the matriarch soothed. "He smells like a man. The man we've been waiting for. Use your tongue, ladies. Lick him clean. Spit on him so he don‘t smell so bad."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">All 20 of the younger females entered. Each surrounded the man, as many as could kneel beside him, and proceeded to lick away all dirt, all sweat, all slime. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Not the penis," Celeste warned. "Make him wait."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One man versus a gaggle of lustful women, Pete writhed in ecstatic torment. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He felt the smashed titties and hard nipples of Sarah grinding into his back muscles, while countless tongues moistened every inch of his top side. Fingers and thumbs delicately pinched and twisted the skin of his testicles, while frothing spit darkened manly fur. They sucked on fingers and toes, slimed his arm pits, licked and lip-pinched his nipples, tongue-drilled his navel. They taunted and teased with their titties, dangling the soft balloons within inches of his mouth, but never allowing his yearning tongue to touch or taste. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As the intensity increased, so did the gyrations of his cock. Nobody touched it, but all were mesmerized by its powerful ballet. Thick, sturdy, fully engorged with veins pulsating just beneath its surface, this man's mighty tool helplessly bobbed and weaved, aching for attention. Its owner undulated, near madness as he pitifully gazed upon countless tits and pussy holes, so close, yet so out of reach. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">How long had these ravenous females waited for the muscled, fur-covered skin of a strong, virile man? Shiny vaginal juice slimed the man and saturated the dirt, as the exhilaration of anticipation overwhelmed every female present.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack Hutch rather enjoyed this scene himself. He climbed into the ring for a closer look, calmly standing beside Celeste while cupping her once-beautiful breast into his palm. "I'd say you struck it rich," he whispered.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"He's a healthy one, Jack. That's for sure."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They both gazed upon the relentless female feast of a helpless man's flesh, focusing on their victim’s neglected cock, its head now fully encased with pre-orgasmic ooze. "How long you gonna make him wait, darlin'?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She smiled while grasping onto Jack’s other hand, bringing it to cup her other breast, answering him as he moved behind her. “Guess 'til I get off myself, Jack. Then I‘ll think about Pete."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jack dropped one hand, inserted three digits and finger-fucked her glistening vagina. Low-pitched moans rumbled from her chest, as Jack expertly found her vibrating clit and rubbed her there. Increasing the pace, Jack rapidly massaged back and forth, causing shudders to reverberate throughout her body.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"You're a brute, Jack Hutch. Oh, god, just think of what might have been."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">His finger attacked like a jack-hammer, ruthlessly vibrating her spongy clit from front to back and side to side. "It's gonna work out just fine, Celeste… better than you could’ve hoped… maybe."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Her body tensed for orgasm, but Jack's hand never let up, not even after a second volley quickly followed the first. "Jesus Christ, Jack, hold me before I collapse."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He propped her up with the cupped-under-breast hand, while slowing the pace with his rammed-up-the-pussy fingers. "Want me to hand-job him?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, better let me. The girls wouldn't understand."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“He won’t understand it either way.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With Jack’s hands removed from her, Celeste stepped towards the ravenous females. Like vultures they fought one another for access to their defenseless prey. They had brought him to an uncontrolled state of madness, to the point that Sarah's full-nelson was no longer necessary, not that she released it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He arched his back to a torturous degree, thrusting his powerful chest high into the air. He physically invited the tongues to lick. He writhed in unbridled lust, begging their lips, hands, tongues and fingers to mercilessly squeeze, kiss, slurp and rub. With each exhale, he flattened his belly and held it there as long as possible. He tempted them to bury their faces deep into its hard muscle. He yearned for tongue tips to pile-drive their way deep into his knotted navel. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For Jack, the view was beyond belief. One incredible man - stripped naked, held in a torture rack grasp, hopelessly outnumbered, assaulted by crazed, starving, mouth-drooling, pussy-dribbling females. Poor Pete undulated heroically, sacrificing his manly form to their torments. Jack could hear the slurps, nearly feel the tongues as though they painted him. He jealously watched full-blown breasts hovering near Pete's face, as Pete gallantly but uselessly struggled to devour each one of them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For three long years Pete’s only company was other men. Three years since Pete had even smelled a woman, let alone felt her touch or tasted any part of her. Now, an overdose, so tantalizingly close to fulfillment, yet so cruelly denied him. Despite this teasing torment, Pete never said a word, never begged for his release or complained about his predicament. Although these females outnumbered him, punished him, controlled him, they never defeated him. Pete Radcliffe remained a man, groaning and grunting and writhing and taking everything they so far had dished out. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then, the two men locked eyes. Jack smiled. Pete moaned. "How long they gonna torture me, Jack?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Wrestling's fun, ain't it boy?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Before he could answer, titties were replaced by a juice-drenched pussy hole, as a young daughter of Jacob Nehi lowered herself onto Pete’s face. He inhaled the horrendous smell - the heavenly, horrendous aroma of athletic female loins. His tongue snaked into her darkness, searching for a little peter, already engorged and awaiting his touch. And just when he found it and her body convulsed, the hand of Celeste encircled Pete’s tormented cock and gingerly finger-massaged its swollen head. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For a man who stood at a height of five feet and ten inches, Pete was a lucky fellow to be endowed with a double-fister. Not only was it a fat and juicy one at three-quarters of an inch thick, Pete’s cock extended a full five inches above the four fingers of Celeste, making a grand total of nine inches in length. Its hammer-head was a handsomely sculptured mushroom, its rim casting a full half-inch shadow on the shaft below, and with a woman’s fist squeezing that shaft his mushroom bulged, darkening its color from pink to red as beads of pre-come oozed out of the slit to make him shine with a sugar coating. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Celeste liked it. She said, “Daughters of Nehi, behold."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A reverent hush enveloped the room and all faces were removed from the man's body. Fingers pinched his tits and hands massaged his chest, belly, legs, and feet, while a gaping pussy hole covered his mouth. Spectators hand-rubbed their own vaginas, marking time with legs as though they had to pee, as Jack stroked on his own hardened pecker. All eyes focused on Pete’s cock and a woman’s hand to see Pete fire an initial volley past the hands on his belly, past the hands on his chest, splattering onto the lower back of the face-sitting female. A second bullet slimed the hands on Pete’s chest, while subsequent contractions produced a dotted trail of semen from the hands on his stomach to his belly. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Celeste squeezed on Pete’s powerful cock from base to head, crushing out all remaining man-seed, and then she delicately laid the mighty weapon to rest. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete glared at the elderly woman, thrusting forward his lower jaw while flexing his chest. It was a display of defiance, a statement, and if there was any doubt remaining for her as to what sort of character had stumbled into her clutches, Pete verbalized it for all of them in a mocking tone. "You beat on me, torture me for hours, and the best you can do is a hand job? You ladies ain’t no fun at all."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Celeste cackled with glee. "Tie his ankles and get this fightin' man ready for the next round."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-56255126549855326972015-07-05T22:04:00.001-05:002015-07-05T22:09:56.922-05:00The Underground Vixens of Ballbreaker Pass - Intro and Part 1a<span style="font-size: large;">This tale was originally written to be an e-book, but before I ever got around to formatting it I changed my mind and made it an audio story. Those chapters are posted and free for the listening at http://www.jardonnserotictales.com/jaspstr.htm . </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Main character, Pete Radcliffe, did eventually end up in a paperback and Kindle book, the story titled The Black Pouch Crusader, one of three tales in The Crux of It, Erotic Tales of Men on the Cross and the Women Who Put Them There, but his original incarnation will be serialized on this blog for the next several weeks... on a weekly basis, I hope. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here is how it begins: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">____________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">THE UNDERGROUND VIXENS</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">OF BALLBREAKER PASS</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Part 1 - Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Such was the life of Pete Radcliffe. For example, one minute he's dozing peacefully in the hole of a rock cliff, safely hidden from the lawmen on his trail; the next he's getting the daylights beaten out of him by a barrage of fists and feet - not just any fists and feet, but those of at least 20 females, all lily-white skinned, all naked as jay birds. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They'd pulled him out of his hole from the inside, not the out, and dragged him through a narrow tunnel into an open-spaced cavern. This is where they proceeded to stomp, kick and punch, while ripping off any piece of his clothing they could get their hands on. Packing a potent punch himself, Pete fought them the best he could, even managing to connect his own fists with a few jaws, but once one of those wild animals jumped on his back the end came quickly. Others rushed in to kick his legs out from underneath until he was down flat. Pete never had a chance. Too many numbers against him. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He never gave up, though. Every time they'd back away figuring he was licked, Pete kept trying to push up his chest and rise to all fours, fully intending to stand upright and take them on again. So, they'd have to deliver a few more stomps onto his back and force him down. Even though they lost patience with his never-ending defiance, these feminine crazies were more than impressed with his fighting spirit, not to mention his well-sculptured musculature, plentiful fur and everything else that makes a man what he is. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Eventually, the heartless females decided they'd just have to sit on him to keep him down, so after rolling him onto his back four vixens pinned four limbs, one straddled his chest with her knees and plopped her butt right down. Another did the same on his thighs. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One-hundred-per-cent worn out, Pete Radcliffe finally surrendered, wondering what these wild women planned to do next.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, let’s back up a bit and talk about how pitiful Pete came to be in such a predicament. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">__________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Born on a mountain, raised in a cave</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Clits and titties are what I crave</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(Seth Radcliffe 1807-1864)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The words of Pete's grandpa repeated themselves over and over in his head, as he lay in that cliff hole half asleep, half awake. After three years of incarceration, any number of words could have been substituted to fit - tobacco and whiskey; chicken and dumplings; a bed and a bath - all would have satiated his appetite. As for his dick, anything warm, wet and tight would have felt fine indeed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete, of course, didn't do what they said he did. Just like any convict, all you had to do was ask him and he'd tell you he was innocent, but in the post-Civil War, western part of the United States the word of a judge was final and that was the end of it. No appeals. No reprieves. Seven years hard labor, that's what the judge in Durango gave him for borrowing a few dollars from a "lady" living at the local house of ill repute. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Truth be known Pete really was framed, but by the Madame, not the prostitute. The expertise with which he plowed that fat, juicy cock of his into her oft-visited pussy made her feel like a woman again, rather than a slab of meat. She wanted him to stay well past the thirty minutes for which he'd rightly paid. She wanted him to take her with him when he left, but the Madame of the house was having none of that. Fifteen minutes overdue, Pete was dragged from the bed by two of her pistol-toting goons, taken into the alley way and beaten senseless. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The Madame wasn't about to punish her own property, instead concocting a charge against innocent Pete. He was immediately sent to the Montezuma County Work Farm, situated in the farthest reaches of the southwest corner of the brand new state of Colorado.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It wasn't really a farm. It was a rock quarry, where leg-ironed and most-times shirtless men swung a pick ax for no particular reason other than to fulfill their sentence of hard labor. As for Pete, he was a model prisoner - kept to himself and always followed the rules, but that didn't mean he wasn't looking for ways out. All the guards liked him, left him alone and rarely paid much attention to what he was doing. What he did do was to every day situate himself with that pick ax swinging near the horses, always hoping for some sort of commotion or distraction to make the guards pay even less attention to him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete got that chance during an all-out brawl. The prisoners knew it was coming and probably the guards did too, as resentments still holding fast between former Confederates and Unionists heated to the boiling point. When it erupted, nearly 30 men on each side turned the rock quarry into chaos. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">While some used fists and others swung axes, Pete bolted for the nearest mount. He grabbed hold the saddle horn, flung both legs atop the hind quarters, and with ax in hand rode towards the passageway to freedom. By the time any guard saw him, Pete was in that narrow canyon, laying flat as he could to that horse’s back with rifle shot whizzing all around him. It was a good ten minutes before the riot was quelled enough for prison guards to turn their full attentions to Prisoner 216. Adding another ten minutes for them to gather a tracking guide and hunting party gave Pete Radcliffe a pretty good chance of staying gone for good.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He headed straight into Utah territory, into mountains of rock - hard to track, hard to see. Safely hidden in a tall canyon, he dismounted and prepared to lose the leg irons. Three years of practice gave him pinpoint accuracy, and with a dozen swings of the pick ax his chain was broken. Pete liked his odds as he began the pre-planned journey to find the nearest Mormon settlement available. He figured them to be not particularly fond of the United States government, and therefore perhaps sympathetic to one of its escaped prisoners. It would have worked, too, had the damned horse not stumbled on a decline and come up lame. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For 24 hours Pete used his own feet - no food, no water, no weapons, no protection from the sun. On the second day he could take no more. A crawlspace hole 20 feet up a cliff would provide protection from the blasting rays, a place of hiding from any trackers and a chance for him to sleep. He'd wait for darkness, regain his strength, and head out to resume the search for anything or anyone that might keep him alive.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Climbing up to the opening, Pete grabbed a couple of pebbles and tossed them in, making sure no critters were napping, then crawled into the darkness of shaded hole in rock. Just enough height to lay on his belly, just enough length to conceal his boots, Pete slithered to a comfortable position, folded his arms under his chin and quickly fell into a refreshing snooze. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There was no time to react, even though he heard voices beyond his head. In his tiny crawl-space, Pete could only slide backwards on his belly, but it was too late. Two hands clutched onto his right wrist, two more grabbed the left and he was dragged further into darkness, through a hole he was sure did not exist before. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He felt rock scraping his underside, as whoever held his wrists pulled him quickly deep into the cave on a gradual down-grade. A glimmer of light appeared ahead of him and Pete strained to look at his captors, but a thump on the head caused him to see nothing. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When consciousness returned he was in a small, open area of rock, just barely tall enough for him to stand up straight. When he did stand, he noticed someone had stolen his prison-issued boots and socks. He grabbed a lone torch that was stuck into a wall hole, then turned to illuminate the room, at which time he heard a softly cackling voice. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Howdy, young feller." Sitting on haunches in one corner, a bearded man naked and furry welcomed Pete to the cave. "My name's Jack Hutch. What's yours?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pete stepped towards him, took hold of the scraggly beard and forced him to his feet. "What's going on here, mister?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Calm down, now, hot head," he chuckled with a yellow-toothed grin, "you got nothin' to fear from me. I ain't your problem."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Then where am I and who brought me here?" Pete let go the man's beard. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Why, you're in Utah territory, son. Thought you knew that."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Patience short, Pete again grabbed the beard. "You know what I mean. You better spill it, old man, or I'm gonna beat it out of you."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Shit, you can't hurt me. I've done been through it all. Look around you. There's one hole in this room. Either it's a way out or a way to trouble, but one thing's for sure, it's the only way to go. So, you might as well git and leave me be."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Sure, Jack, I'll go, but you're going ahead of me. Oh, by the way, my name's Pete Radcliffe and I'm a wanted man. Now, you git."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Into the tunnel they went, both bent down to accommodate its five-foot height. With Pete holding the torch, they shuffled about 20 paces before a circle of light shone from around a bend - not outside light, but a dull glow. When they were near the exit Pete told Jack to stand back, as he crouched on hands and knees to scan what was ahead. He was near another open space, cavernous and cathedral-like, lit by numerous torches protruding from sporadically-spaced holes in the rock walls. Pete crept forward, then felt the older man's foot press against his buttocks, "Go on, boy, there ain't nothing to be sceert of."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">With the torch flying from his hand, Radcliffe landed on his chest with the upper half of his body laying inside the room. From each side, hands grabbed both arms and dragged him all the way in, at which time his relentless beating commenced until he ended up stripped naked and pinned down in that spread-eagle sprawl. All the time Pete was getting the crap beat out of him, Jack sat on his haunches near the tunnel and watched the show, never saying a word. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">_______________________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">end of part 1</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-36375152908932998452015-06-28T22:30:00.001-05:002015-06-28T22:30:52.268-05:00Farmer John, Ginny and Jasper - Part 9 (final)<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hello, everybody... and welcome to Uncle Jasper's Swinging with Marrieds... this is the final chapter of our series called Air Tight... the saga of how Ginny Crosby and I broke her husband of his nicotine addiction... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, farmer John was willing to forgo this day's inspections of his bean field and corn field, but he insisted upon counting his god damned cows... we agreed to allow him this...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But before we could cut him loose... I just had to test him... I said... CAROLINA...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">At which time, John expressed his feelings on the situation... he goes... whew... that was one wild ride you and Ginny put me through... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I said... it sure was, John... and you took us exactly where we needed to go... so, tell me... how bad is it... hanging from your wrists like that? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... it's getting pretty bad up here, Jasper... but actually, I think if my arms were closer together... I could handle it with no problem... right now, feels like they're about to come outta their sockets... feels like my rib cage is getting squeezed by a... a big old python or something...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, Ginny, I see there are two notches in that bar that are closer together... have you ever used 'em?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, but I prefer his feet to be off the ground. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, you are a cruella deville, aren't you? Well, we're either gonna have to use the other notches or bring him down... hell, it's up to you, John... what do say?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jasper... you know damned good and well I love trying to play superman for you and Ginny... and if you two wanna keep on playing I'm more than willing to do it... as long as you relieve some of this pressure on me... but there does come a time when a man wants the freedom to... participate a little bit more... you know to... ah, hell... I ain't no good at saying things like this...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">What he's trying to say, Jasper... is that John would like to show his appreciation to you for... well... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For everything, Jasper... and it's kinda hard to do when I'm hanging here about to suffocate...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... there, I proved my point didn't I? John would've stayed right there for us to keep working him over... just like I said... providing we fix his arms so he could breathe... ha. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway... being the nasty, fornicating fools we are... we didn't even bother to clean up... John and I piled into his pickup, shirtless... just jeans and socks and boots and underwear... he grabbed an apple out of the refrigerator in his workshop, while Ginny went into the house to do whatever... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The first thing John did, before even starting the engine, was this... Jasper, get in that glove box, take those cigarettes and get rid of 'em... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Since he didn't give me any specifics, I crushed the pack in my hand... then, as he drove away from the house, I distributed ripped papers and loose tobacco outside open window... tiny bits at a time... still distributing about a quarter mile later when we reached the gate which led to the pasture...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Is that the last pack, John?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah, that's it, Jasper... there ain't no more. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And that was the end of that... I did not challenge him on it... didn't ask for any guarantees that he wouldn't go into town to buy more... didn't really give a shit whether he smoked or not... it was his decision... besides, I ain't that way... not with anybody... I don't care what people do to pleasure themselves... don't believe this bullshit about second hand smoke, neither... whatever harm it causes to me is nothing compared to the bus fumes and truck fumes and factory fumes we breathe every day... what pisses me off is these do-gooders on their high horse, always making rules to prevent people from having a good time... like ordinances where you can't smoke in the watering holes... what a crock of shit... who the hell's going to go into a tavern and be offended because some poor working stiff is having a smoke along with his beer? Nobody... the people who make these rules never go to places like that anyway... just a bunch of busy-body piss ants... too bad they can't devote their time and energy to an important issue... there's a long list of things that really do need to be fixed... but smoking in a bar is not one of them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John and I didn't talk much... because he was counting cattle... or so I thought... about midway through he goes... how many you got so far, Jasper?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ah, hell, John, I ain't counting 'em... just enjoying the scenery... enjoy being out here in the fresh air, riding around with you. How many have you counted so far?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ah, I don't really count 'em, Jasper... I know each and every one of 'em... I know which ones cluster together... and I know where they usually hang out... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So they're social animals... like us...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yep, some of 'em are loners... but most of 'em have their little groups... and just like people... if you wanna be in that group... you gotta talk your way in... unless you're born into that group... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">You're right, John... that is like people... and I'll bet most of those groups ain't worth the effort... once you go to the trouble of... gaining their acceptance, you realize their little group ain't worth a shit anyway... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That's exactly how it is, Jasper... now Wilbur... my bull, he'll be in the vicinity of the pond... and all the cows that are getting ready to fuck... they'll be hanging with him... based on what I saw yesterday, I can tell you that there will be six of 'em with Wilbur, maybe five, he might have already nailed one of 'em... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John did know his livestock... sure enough, as soon as we cleared a rise and the pond came into view... there was Wilbur, about 20 yards from bankside, munching away... and flanking him on all sides, no more than 30 feet away from him, five cows were watching Wilbur's every move... I said... ain't that something... the life of a bull, just eat, drink and fuck... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yessir, Jasper... the dream of every man alive... every man who can still do it... but hell, I got no complaints about my current situation... sure is a lot better than it was a couple years ago.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... yeah, John, same goes for me... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As for Wilbur, he goes through his down times, too... when July's over, I'll take him outta this pasture... make him go without... don't want him making more babies than this pasture can support.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Poor Wilbur... I kinda felt sorry for him until John explained how they milk him and sell his semen, how they make nearly as much off his semen as they do selling livestock... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John parked the truck near a little wooden ramp he'd built over water's edge... he got out... so, I did too... we met at the front bumper... facing each other... you know I just love the way John wears his jeans... way down low on his belly... not because he's fat... just because he never bothers to pull 'em up after they've worked their way down... before long, they'd be all the way down and off... because John said...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jasper, have you ever gone skinny-dipping in a farm pond?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">No, I haven't... are there snapping turtles in that thing?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, probably, but they prefer fish over peckers... Ginny oughtta be here any time now... bringing us some serious food to eat... finally... until then... you smell like a god damned race horse... strip down and let's get wet... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Like he didn't smell worse than I did... we left our clothes on the little dock, and no sooner had John and I jumped into the water than did a dually appear on the horizon, with Ginny its driver. Within minutes, she got naked and joined us... we swam, floated, tread water and talked a bit... refreshing ourselves, replacing dungeon-induced sweat with sun-warmed pond water... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny goes... are you boys hungry?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John and I looked at one another, then at her... our faces must have said it all... something like... are you kidding me? You have to ask us that?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She goes... I take it you are... I just got back from town.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John asked... Did you go to Neidermeyer's? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes I did... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And with that, John grabbed me by the arm... Come on, Jasper... Ginny bought us some Martha Neidermeyer fried chicken... best in the county... much better than Ginny's...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">You'll pay for that, mister...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John was not exaggerating about the chicken... nor any other part of the meal that came with it... and Ginny wasn't joking about the... you'll pay for that, mister... because after we'd finished, Ginny and I became Harold and Kurt... taking on John in a two against one, wrestling match in the shallows... and he did let us win... and we did drag him up on the bank... where we got ourselves covered with mud... where we sprawled John on his back... did some fake punching on him... did some deep-fingered massaging on him... and where we got two hard dicks and one wet pussy ready for action... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But then, in an unexpected and pleasurable twist of fortune... John and Ginny Crosby teamed up against me... they pushed me into the water... assaulted me... John holding back my arms in a standing full nelson... Ginny giving me fake punches to my gut... Ginny giving me very real kisses to my chest and underwater stomach... John giving me kisses to my neck and the back of my head... and when they were finished there, they brought ME onto the bank... laid ME out spread eagle... laid themselves on either side of me... and tag-teamed me with their hands, lips and tongues... yes cousins, you heard me... that macho stud, John Crosby, and his sexy wife both loved on me... and as if that wasn't enough... the next thing I know, Ginny mounted me... holy crap... my favorite position... laying on my back in the soft mud, while this hot and horny female used me as her tool... crushed me inside her velvety vagina... targeted her clittie with my corona... while her husband knelt beside my chest... leaned down to plant kisses on my chest... raised up to plant kisses on his wife's tits... and then he left me alone with his wife, so she could pleasure herself... and me... uninterrupted... while riding up and down my extremely hard cock.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't really know what John was doing when he came back... he just stood behind Ginny beyond my feet, as though he's gonna watch... never thought anything of it when Ginny lowered herself, sliding her hands through the mud, bringing her fingers up to clutch my shoulders from underneath, bringing her breasts down to rub on my chest... but then I saw John move up behind her, standing above us, his feet straddling both of us... he was stroking himself... his hand and his cock all gooey... and then... he crouched down on his haunches... inserted himself to Ginny's other hole... the available hole... her asshole... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, there is something I should point out to you... in case you hadn't thought of it yourself... I've talked plenty about what a strong man John is... taking the punishment we give him... shooting wads of cum anytime we ask him to... but think about this... for six days, Ginny'd been taking John's cock and my cock into her pussy hole and her asshole... and she'd been taking us multiple times per day.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The point is that Ginny is one strong woman, taking both my cock and John's cock again and again, servicing us inside her loving holes, and never showing any ill effects from our invasions... Now, that's what I call countrified stamina...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And in case you're wondering why I have not described Ginny for you... it is because she belongs to us... first John... then me... we don't want you to know what she looks like... you will just have to use your imagination... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But I will tell you this... Instantly, her pussy came alive... her vaginal walls tensed around me tight... like they were charged with electricity... and as John slowly worked his fat cock into her ass deeper and deeper, her powerful pussy turned into a vibrator... holy shit, my cock felt like a thousand little ants were crawling all over it... fire ants... her pussy was on fire... it kept getting hotter... especially when her husband achieved full penetration... laid his chest onto her back... rammed his fat sausage into her gut... he pressed down on her... she pressed down on me... my cock in her pussy as deep as I could go... her pelvic bone pressing mine... why the poor thing... eight inches of hard man meat spearing her from above and below, from her front side and her back side... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John put his feet in the mud, raised up on his haunches, grabbed his woman by her hips... lifted her ass up to take his cock... slammed her pussy down to take my cock... he manhandled her... shared her with me... slammed her back and forth... up for him... down for me... she was writhing like a madwoman... rubbing her tits on my furred chest... digging her fingers into my shoulder blades... locking our mouths together... fucking my throat with her out of control tongue... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John did all the work... manipulating our vessel... raising up her ass, spearing her with his cock... slamming her back down... impaling her with my cock... she took us like a pro... her muscles crushing the both of us... in her ass... in her vagina... he was picking up the pace, his forearms, biceps and triceps working hard... like a fine-tuned machine... the friction of her electrified pussy took me to the brink... her tits rubbing my chest sent me teetering on the precipice... I's losing my balance... losing my senses... her tongue penetrated my throat... I wanted to grunt... I wanted to groan... wanted to scream, but I's too busy sucking her tongue... I didn't know what the hell I's doing anyway... my cock'd never felt anything like this before... my brain was in never-never land... taken to some place no drug can equal... my cock kept growing inside her... felt like a 20-incher... John'd lift her up... I'd gain another inch... John'd slam her down... my cock'd touch his... she was riding me like a stallion... I was hung like a draft horse... my nuts were shrinking... down to nothing... two little peas in a pod ready to fire their load... and John worked the three of us like a steam engine... up and down and up and down and oh my god i'll shoot a load to the fucking moon... etc... orgasm... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't even remember what happened there for awhile... ha... shit I almost passed out on that one... couldn't tell you who shot first... or the what... or uh, how it all ended... all I remember is that we were stacked like pancakes... John on top of Ginny, Ginny on top of me... as I slowly sank into the mud... and after things had calmed down a bit... John'd slipped out of Ginny... Ginny took herself off of me... and the Crosby's laid on either side of me... me, on my back... they, on their sides... John's hairy thigh across my belly... both their hands rubbing my chest... with mud, ha... and both of 'em kissing me... on my cheeks... on my mouth... that's right, both John and Ginny Crosby were taking turns... kissing me on my mouth... guess you could say that's how they showed their appreciation... actions speak louder than words... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The Crosbys and I took us another swim, watched the sun set over that same rise from which we'd come... then we climbed the ladder onto John's little dock... didn't bother putting our clothes back on... took us a shower when we got to the house... this time we conserved water... showered together... spent the rest of our time together... fondling one another... giving each other back rubs... and front rubs... working ourselves up for more rounds of multiple insertions... all in the comfort of their upstairs bedroom...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Saturday morning, they went their way and I went mine... all three of us with enough memories to last a lifetime... all three of us burning with anticipation... for the time when we could once again... show our... appreciation... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And we have done just that... several times... will continue to do so, best I can tell... more fodder for my broadcasts... more fodder for my... ha... raging hard on... mmm, mmm... just thinking about John and Ginny Crosby is all it takes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That is the end of this story. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-87947995651932919802015-06-21T23:39:00.000-05:002015-06-21T23:39:00.246-05:00Farmer John, Ginny and Jasper - Part 8<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And it came to pass that John Crosby was made to rise, to stand upon his bare feet, his padded leather straps now wrapping his wrists. Too exhausted and humbled to struggle against his tormentors, he trudged to his position beneath the scene of his previous torture. He was ordered to raise both hands above his head, this done by his wife, who stood on the second step of her stepladder behind him. Standing in front of him, the woman's faithful assistant wrapped both of his arms around the captive man's mighty chest, pressed his cheek to the center of that chest and lifted the victim until both of his feet left the ground. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Surrendered, the condemned man latched onto the horizontal bar with both hands, just as he was ordered to do, while the cruel woman opened one by one the metal eye hooks imbedded to his wrist straps, hooking and closing them to matching notches of the horizontal bar. Spread apart wide were his hands, and once he was properly secured, the female joined her assistant on the ground, told him to release her prisoner's chest from the bear hug, ordered her prisoner to let go the horizontal bar.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny... when are we gonna have our breakfast?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Right now, Jasper... will microwave oatmeal work for you?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... that Ginny, always comes prepared... oatmeal is not the most exciting prospect I can think of for breakfast, but hell, I just needed for something to be in my stomach... and a little coffee wouldn't have hurt either. I got both. Ginny had everything she needed in John's workshop... directly above where John was abandoned to hang suspended from his bar. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We left the trap door open, just so we could look down into the dungeon every now and then... see what he was up to... ha... he'd latch onto the bar with his hands, raise himself up to relieve the pressure on his chest... and then let gravity resume working on him with its full suspension.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I reckon it was right around noon, either before or after... and the air conditioner that cooled both the workshop and the dungeon hummed with efficiency... the workshop was comfortable, the dungeon was not... that's because Ginny'd shut off the vent fan that John had built to connect ground level to underground level... but at least by having the trap door open while we were up above him, John did get a bit of relief... a very small bit... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It took us about 30 minutes to fix and consume our snack... at which time we also did some strategery before descending the stairs and closing the trap door... instantly, we realized just how miserably hot the dungeon had become... but remember, I told you we were looking for something dramatic... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And so, John Crosby, stripped to his jock strap, muscles aching, skin drenched in sweat, entered a new realm of torture... unspeakable in its brutality... unholy in its ever increasing, lingering agony, a torment from ancient times, utilized most efficiently by the Romans... to not only punish and execute, but also to display before the public a condemned man, to degrade him before the eyes of all who dared watch, to be made an example, lest any other man get ideas of commiting such a foul crime... it is a hideous torture of unimaginable suffering... it is the torture of crucifixion... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Just like before... when he was hanging upside down... Ginny and I stalked him... circled him... inspected him... and nearly melted at the sight of him... his muscled legs hanging freely, toes inches from floor... his engorged phallus centering his thighs, filling its fabric prison, bringing the strap with it, completely exposing his belly, exposing his beginnings of pubic hair... his rock solid abdomen compressed from stretching, each line of muscle coming to life with each dramatic exhale of his breath, his powerful chest expanded, thrust forward, laterals flared, as he forcefully brought oxygen to his compressed lungs. His bushy-haired armpits nearly black with sweat... his hairs matted, skin beneath them emitting a manly musk... his arms inflated like balloons, spread in a wide V, biceps and triceps bulging, forearms straining against his crucifixion torture... streams of sweat trickled from his scalp to his forehead and into his eyes... he blinked... stared foreward... lowered his head to gaze down the length of his racked body... gravity stretching him... his own weight torturing him... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And as the light in our underground dungeon shimmered off his sweat-glistening skin, every muscle in his powerful body came to life... every line and curve highlighted, as he struggled to breathe, as he flexed to withstand his agony... as he performed, for us... and as we scanned every inch of him with our eyes, as we listened to the slight groans coming from the depths of his chest with every exhale of his breath...a mysterious glow surrounded him... dazzling light reflecting off his sweat-layered skin.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny and I were hypnotized... no longer was he merely John Crosby, our farmer John, our plaything, our strong-assed muscle stud... no, suddenly, John Crosby became a thing of indescribable beauty... the epitome of masculine design, the ultimate composition of the male form... an other-wordly sculpturing of hair and muscle and sweat and manliness... no longer a man, but a man-god, worthy of our praise... and we responded accordingly. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I said... go, woman, run to him... comfort him while you still can... for not even a man of his incredible strength can withstand punishment such as this... even he will eventually succumb to this devastating torture... his... death... by crucifixion... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And she did run to him, encircling him inside her vise, standing on her toe tips, her arms wrapping his back, her face buried to his chest... she smeared herself with his sweat, tasted him with her lips, with her tongue, while sobbing for him... oh, you pitiful man... why must you suffer so... mmm, slurp... what have you done to deserve such agony, such punishment... her face made a path from his chest to his stomach, from his stomach to his belly, kissing and licking every inch of him... No man deserves to die like this... no man can withstand torture such as this... she fell to her knees... wrapping his legs in her arms... kissing his thighs, his knees, his shins, lowering herself to kiss his ankles, the tops of his feet... oh, my god, I can't bear it... how much longer must you be made to suffer... how could any torture be more agonizing than this...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I answered her question, as though a Roman tribune... I will show you how, woman... guards, strip him... at which time I yanked his jock strap down to his knees, allowing it to fall on her kissing his feet head... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">OH, GOD NO! How could you? She knelt with her body erect, hands clasped together in begging, his cloth falling uselessly to the floor below his feet... Is there no mercy for this pitiful man? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I sneered at her pleading... Mercy? HA! Unholy death awaits him, but not only that, he also will suffer the ultimate humiliation... now he's stripped of everything, his mighty phallus exposed for all to see... ha, the final insult... he will be mocked, entertainment for us, total degradation for him, his naked body tortured for hours... hanging from the cross, his naked body, crucified. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My victim played his part well. He dropped his chin to his chest with a groan of despair. His penis, filled with blood, pierced the air in front of him, a perfectly horizontal spear... two inches of thickness, eight inches of length... (gasp) a sight to behold... and right below his mighty weapon, his monumental testicles hung low... suspended, waiting, same as their owner... their roundness exaggerated... their insides filled with semen, their skin stretched tight, ready to burst open. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And in a glorious display of brute strength... this crucified man presented himself... he raised his head, strained his arms, and lifted his body towards the ceiling, arched his back, thrust forward his chest, thrust forward his magnificent cock... and cried out to the heavens... let it be finished... merciful gods... take me... now... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And as his body collapsed back into full suspension, take him we did... I grabbed Ginny by the arm, made her stand up... I got behind her, locked my arms behind her knees and lifted her... moved her towards him... connected her with him... her legs straddling him... her pussy engulfing him... she impaled herself upon his mighty phallus, her hands clutching onto his shoulders, her ankles crossed and locking together behind and between his knees, her body hanging from his, his powerful rod connecting them... and this incredible man incorporated the weight of two, fully grown, adult human bodies into his suspended crucifixion... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, what a fucking man... she thrust her pussy upon him, to and fro, spearing herself with his mighty tool... she pressed her tits against his chest... rubbing her nipples into his sweat-drenched hairs... their bodies squished together... chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis... woman screeching with ecstasy, man groaning with ecstasy and agony... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And from behind our crucified hero... I joined them... On the step ladder, I hugged his belly with my arms, helped him support himself and his woman... helped him thrust his cock in unison with his woman, rubbed my cockhead into the wetness of his lower back... his sweat, my lubrication, his man hairs, my friction... man and woman fucked... Roman tormentor masturbated himself onto crucified man... the room was hot... our sweat flying in all directions... this torture was hot... this three-way fuck slash jackoff was hot, we melted together... my cock rubbing his back, his cock impaling her pussy, her pussy riding his cock... and with explosions of man juice and woman juice we grunted and we groaned and we shrieked... sounds of agony, sounds of ecstasy, sounds of the prehistoric, sounds of wild beastly animals... we shook the rafters while hanging from the god damn rafters... and together, we ended all suffering. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh yes, John Crosby, you are correct, it is finished... god damn... have you ever been crucified and masturbated on? have you ever been crucified and fucked by a hot pussy? how long do you think you could take it? think you're man enough? tough enough to hang there struggling to breathe, while some crazed woman brutalizes your cock? riding back and forth on you, force fucking you, when your chest feels like it's about to collapse, when it takes every ounce of your strength just to breathe? hmm? think you're man enough? Our man was man enough... fucking he-man, fucking pussy-filling masterpiece, fucking super stud... god damn he drives us crazy... he is everything a man ought to be... and even after Ginny jumped down and I joined her, his cock was still filled with blood, shining with woman juice... man syrup dribbling from its slit... his body still hanging there, breathing hard, still defiant, still muscle-flexing, still waiting for us to do whatever the fuck we wanted to do with him. Holy fucking shit...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For six days we'd kept this man busy... but don't you think for a second it was over... oh, sure, this was my last full day to be with them... before they had to go pick up their daughter from summer camp or wherever the hell she was... No, Ginny and I still had plenty we wanted to do with him. And even though this chapter is over, my testosterone rages on... that is why I'm going to end this and relish it.... save the final part, the end of Jasper McCutcheon's vacation, for telling next week. It will all come to a head... but for right now... goodbye, and sweet dreams. </span><br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-66780716428399539422015-06-14T23:03:00.000-05:002015-06-14T23:22:10.339-05:00Farmer John, Ginny and Jasper - Part 7<span style="font-size: large;">I awoke to someone shaking my shoulder. Ginny, frantic, saying, Jasper, wake up.... John has escaped.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Huh? </span><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, no... he wouldn't... not after five days... any ideas where he might've gone to... to, light up?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, slip on some shoes, Jasper... let's see if we can catch him in the act. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny led the way out the back door of their house... the Friday morning sun no more than a few inches above the horizon... I was in my tennis shoes and underwear... Ginny in tennis shoes, panties and t-shirt... through the open barn doors we ventured... to the back of the barn... into the former corn crib... through the open trap door... and down to the Crosby dungeon...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There he was... upside down... hanging from a horizontal bar bolted to wooden ceiling beam... his ankles in leather straps hooked to the bar... foam padding inside the leather straps... his legs spread wide... his arms hanging free... straight down... fingers... inches from the floor... and the only thing he had on him... was an athletic jock strap... which prevented his dick from hanging down on his belly... no, instead, bulging inside its pouch, John's cock pointed straight forward... with his nuts exposed... dangling on either side of the fabric... ha... obviously, Ginny had already caught her husband in the act... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John goes... Jasper... this here's my ball munching configuration... so get to munching...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Although it was tempting, I did not fall for his trap... I said, hey, John Crosby, I don't know who you think you are... I take my orders from Ginny, not you... so what do you say, Ginny... about his balls? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She goes... oh, he's got balls, that's for sure... let me tell you what he did... he crawled over the top of you... left our bed without permission... trying to sneak off somewhere... so I watched him quietly leave the room... heard him creep down the stairs... at which time I left the bedroom to follow him... watched him step into his outside boots that he keeps by the kitchen door... heard the door open and close... I peeked out the window... watched him go inside the barn... so I put on my shoes to follow him... saw him go into his workshop... where the corn crib used to be... and I rushed in just as he was about to light up a cigarette... he had an entire pack hidden inside his toolbox... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John goes... Jasper... she broke that cigarette right in two... such a waste.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Not only that, Jasper... I grabbed the rest of the pack... dropped 'em to the floor and stomped on them... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Good for you, Ginny... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">You should have seen him... drooping his head like he's a whipped dog... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, that's exactly what he is... oughtta be ashamed of himself... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I told him to get his ass down those stairs and suspend himself in these ankle straps... told him not to make a sound until I got back... that's when I came to get you, Jasper. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, thank god you were awake, Ginny... he would have thrown away all of our hard work... can you imagine that... after all we've done for him... this is how he shows his gratitude. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I know, Jasper... hard to believe, isn't it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, it is, Ginny...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The good news is... we have saved him from himself, again... the bad news is... he's just too damn strong for his own good... we're going have to punish him for a long time before we can... get our message through that thick skull of his... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John says... Well... whatever you're going to do... I wish you'd both shut the hell up and get on with it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be the last words spoken by John Crosby for quite some time... because Ginny Crosby told me to go to the storage cabinet and get her duct tape... remember duct tape? I told you it would come into play, eventually... John got a wide strip stuck to his mouth... after Ginny told him to open his mouth about half way... and better yet... Ginny used an ink pen to poke a hole in the center of his duct tape gag... and into this hole she inserted a salvaged cigarette... unlit... mangled, but still intact. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She goes... There, mister... suck on that, you want one so bad... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And the sad thing is... he did suck on it, grumbling underneath his duct tape for us to light it up for him... I said, Ginny... look at that... is that not pathetic?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Tragic, might be more accurate...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, tragically beautiful... well, Ginny, seems to me we've got to find something for his lungs to do... take his mind off of his desires... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hmm... well, Jasper, why don't we kill two birds with one stone?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ok, what did you have in mind?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, Jasper, his body is speaking to me, as though it's begging to be stretched.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ah... as in, stretched on the rack? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Not only that, I also want him to exert himself... make him fill his lungs with air, rather than smoke. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She pointed to John's workout bench... do you remember his workout bench? Oh, yes... how he did suffer on that thing... but this time, Ginny told me to bring those two dumb bells sitting on the floor underneath his workout bench... I was more than happy to oblige her... Now, as I reached down to pick those things up... I counted... three, ten-pound plates on each side... for each dumb bell... I rolled them out... did a squat, grabbed 'em... used my legs to bring those things up... and made my way towards... hanging upside down John...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Take 'em, mister... instructed, Ginny... one at a time, 65 pounds was transferred from each of my hands, to each of John's hands... 130 pounds of gravity stretching him... from his split wide open legs down to his straight line arms and strong-ass, clutching onto dumbbell hands... ah, the muscles exploded in his chest, belly, biceps, triceps, thighs, shoulders, back, and buttocks, as Ginny and I slowly circled him like vultures, inspecting every inch of our masculine marvel... oh, yes, he was gloriously stretched, vertically... on the rack. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, the fun began... Ginny knelt down in front of his face... removed the cigarette from his duct tape hole... and said, bring those to your chest... give me ten of 'em... John raised those dumbbells straight up, elbows bending toward us, pressed them onto his chest, and then slowly lowered them... and while he did this exercise, Ginny and I stripped... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">About time we got naked... whew, oh, perhaps I forgot to mention that for... whatever reason, Ginny had turned off the air conditioner in that... now stifling, underground dungeon of theirs... and even though it was still early morning, the temperature was rapidly rising...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">By the time John'd reached the count of eight... his arm pits were moist... little beads of sweat had formed on his chest hairs... his belly hairs... and as he completed his first repetition of dumbbell lifts... allowing his arms to hang straight down... allowing 130 pounds to resume his stretch rack torture... John Crosby sounded like a vacuum pump, his nostrils flaring... his mouth, sucking air through that tiny hole in his duct tape.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny gave him about 30 seconds of rest... no more... then she goes, give me flies, mister... twenty of 'em... our strong man lifted 130 pounds to his ear level... elbows bending out... 90 degree angles... his pectorals expanded... his belly flexed tight... every line and curve rising to the surface... he brought his dumbells up fast... let them down slow... straining every muscle... his skin starting to glisten... his voice starting to grunt on his exhales... and as John Crosby completed his 19th lift, his arms lowered, pumped to lift and lower for the final time... Ginny grabbed my hand and we knelt before him, watched up close as he raised his dumbbells, his task nearly finished... until Ginny said... hold it right there mister... he was only halfway finished with his final lift... dumbbells parallel with his ears, arms and chest locked in his struggle to keep them there... Ginny reached for his shrunken tit, told me to grab the other one... we pinched on 'em, tugged on 'em... twisted them... John's body was locked in place... his rock solid muscles... flexing... his muscle-pumped skin... drenched with sweat... his cock doing everything in its power to break out of its fabric prison... the cloth, stretched tight... separating his nuts... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny goes... Jasper, get the step ladder, climb up there behind him... give him what he wants... there were 3 steps on the ladder... I needed two... my face emerged... inside his wishbone... I opened my mouth... I've called 'em his bull nuts... I've said they were like oranges... each one of 'em is in reality two and one half inches in diameter... do you hear me? Each of John Crosby's nuts is two and one half inches filled with his manly come... fucking monsters... I engulfed the right one, caressed it with my lips... licked it with my tongue, tasted his brine... I finger pinched his left nut... tugging its skin... tugging its hairs... twisting its sweat-covered flesh... Ginny continued pinching his tits... I worshiped his nuts... while the mighty John Crosby hung there upside down... holding his dumbbells at his ears... straining every muscle... grunting, groaning... his hard cock bouncing inside its fabric prison... wiggling like a giant worm... a monstrosity... a writhing sea serpent... and as Ginny gave him permission to finish his rep... he let his arms drop... weight of the dumbbells stretching him again... his vacuum pump struggling for oxygen.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I altered my attack, munched on his left nut... pinched on his right... removed his salt, replaced it with my spit... while Ginny kept working his tits, gave him an order that caused him to whimper... 20 more flies, mister... now!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He strained to raise his arms... his muscles had not been given time to recover... they were burning... they were weak... but still, his belly exploded with power, triceps, biceps, pectorals inflating with blood, pumped to capacity... he groaned with each lift... muffled by duct tape... he sucked in air through his nostrils... their holes wide open... and as his pace became lethargic, as his muscles reached their limits of endurance, Ginny let go his tits, stood up, unleashed a furious assault of fists to his hard belly... ah, shit... and I'm right there close... looking down at his belly... her knuckles smacking against his brick wall... his sweat flying in all directions... hell, he didn't even feel those punches... he was too busy concentrating on his task... his belly flexed tight... as I scraped the skin off his nuts with my tongue... his legs spread wide open... his throbbing cock pointing forward... imprisoned by fabric... I grabbed it with my fingers... fabric separating me from him... I squeezed on his shaft... crushed him in my grip... licked on his nuts... the left one, the right one... while Ginny kept pounding on him... punching on his hard gut... and John counted for us... groaning like a man... 18... 19... 20...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John's body collapsed... dumbbells straight down, stretching him on the rack... Ginny picked up that cigarette... struck a match... lit the damn thing, sucked with her mouth to get it going... kept the smoke in her mouth... blew out the smoke before it could get inside her lungs... here, mister... smoke this... she tried to stick it in his duct tape hole... but he turned his head... here damn, you... I said smoke this... she ripped off his duct tape... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(John) No... (heavy breathing)... get it away from me... don't want it... you can't make me... I... uh... please, don't make me... get that nasty thing away from me... I can't stand the smell of it... it's making me sick... can't breath... think I'm gonna puke... no... please.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We broke him...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny and I looked at one another... grinning from ear to ear... ha... I stepped down, took the dumbbells from John's failing grip and set them on the floor... then I grabbed Ginny, hugged her... kissed her... took the cigarette away from her and carried it into the bathroom, flushed it down the toilet.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When I got back, John was still hanging... breathing heavy, filling his hard-working lungs with hot, but fresh... air... Ginny climbed the step ladder, while I wrapped my arms around John, pressed my face into his, sweat-slick belly. I lifted him up so Ginny could unhook his ankle straps... and I gently lowered him until his hands reached the floor... supported him, until he got his feet on the floor... and then, we laid him on his back... removed his ankle straps... transferred them to another place...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And now, cousins... I am going to torture you... you wanna know how? I will tell you that we are not finished with John Crosby... not by a long shot... he pissed us off... ok? That was a shitload of hard work he put us through... and we were not happy about it... we were pleased with ourselves for having helped him... but at the same time, we both felt like wailing away on him with our fists... and believe you me, we could have done just that... John was too exhausted to defend himself from anything we wanted to do... but that would have been too easy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">No, we needed something a little more dramatic... and for that part of the story... you are gonna have to wait... that's how I am going to torture you... ha... so, until next time, this is Jasper McCutcheon... good night... good wank... and sweet dreams. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-4930999600978739242015-06-07T23:05:00.000-05:002015-06-07T23:05:43.434-05:00Farmer John, Ginny and Jasper - Part 6<span style="font-size: large;">Now, about the time John was inviting me to leave the guest bedroom to join him and Ginny in their bedroom... John's 24 hour anniversary passed by unnoticed... his first full day of going nicotine free... and it went by unnoticed because there is nothing to celebrate... the second day is worse than the first... I had already told Ginny that our best play was to not mention the subject at all unless we absolutely had to... and it was my intention to keep him in bed as long as he'd stay... because sleeping is just about the best way to get through it...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sex is another good way... unfortunately, John... like most people who smoke... made it a habit to light up right after sex... and even John couldn't keep his dick going all day long without a break... so we did our best to keep him in bed with dozing, while we loved on him with our hands and lips... told him to get on his belly so we could take turns massaging his muscles... Ginny'd do his back while I did his legs... then we'd switch so I could do his back while she did his legs... then they worked on me the same way... and THEN... John and I worked on Ginny... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Do I need bother telling you that we both ended up at the tops of her mountainous breasts? Well, I'll tell you anyway... John had the left one and I had the right... and what started with hands and thumbs progressed to lips and tongues... and what started with her titties progressed to her vagina... I made that move, slowly working my mouth onto first her belly, then her pussy hole... I feasted upon her... my first meal of the day... and while John positioned himself in a squat above her face... so she could put her mouth to his dangling bull nuts... I raised up on all fours and put my hard cock to her salivating vagina... and while I slowly thrust myself into her, clipping her clittie with my corona... she grabbed her husband's dick and crammed it into her mouth... his knees on either side of her head, her head propped up on two pillows... his hands clutching the headboard... his butt giving me just enough room so I could put my mouth to her titties while long stroking her pussy with my power tool. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">God, what a team we had become... working in such magical synchronization... connecting ourselves strictly with movements... no need to verbalize what we wanted to do... we just did it... and loved it... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was about noontime when we finally wallowed out of that bed. I figured that with this being a farm family... breakfast would be a big deal... you know, the works... and while usually that was the case... on this day it was not. After we all showered and dressed... Ginny fixed us oatmeal and toast... then John and I headed out to perform an abbreviated version of his daily duties. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He and I piled into his Silverado pickup truck... first stop... 120 acres worth of soybeans... he parked... and we got out to inspect the flowering plants for insects... we walked the rows side by side for about an hour... me instructed to alert him to any bugs I saw... he knowing which ones were unimportant and which ones were not... didn't see any bad insects, so we drove to his second field... 90 acres of corn, and went through the same routine...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John didn't say much as we were doing our chores... and neither did I... I figured he was pining for a cigarette pretty bad... I also suspect he had a pack in the glove box directly in front of my knees... you know, for emergencies... and I also know that had I not been there he would have smoked one by now... as for me, I was satisfied to reminisce silently about all that had transpired so far... and the number one thought in my brain was this... if we continued at the same pace we'd set for ourselves up to this point in time... well... this was going to rank as one of my best-ever vacations... I just hoped that my peter could hang in there with these two, sex-crazed, wild-ass country people. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It took us awhile to inventory the cattle... not that they were in separate pastures, but some were clustered in tree growth, some congregated around the pond and some grazed in open field... so John had to drive from one area to another and count... had me count 'em too, since I didn't have anything better to do... but as John drove near the pond, I just had to ask him something...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hey, John, did you ever have any cool downs here in this pond? Like you and Harold and Kurt did at Hoover's pond?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">No, Jasper... my brother or my dad could have shown up at any time here... besides, as you can see this pond is out in the open... Hoover's had a cluster of trees nearby which kinda kept us hidden... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, I can see where you wouldn't want to be carrying on with anybody while your dad and brother were on the property somewhere... even if you were hidden... oh, ladies and gentlemen, by the way... this refers to some boyhood sexual explorations done by John and his two buddies when they were teenagers hauling hay in the summertime... if you want to hear Jardonn's version of the events, I did a scripted rendition of it called From Out of Nowhere... he added a bunch of anal stuff to spice it up... changed a whole bunch of shit to make it more his story than my and John's story... but the bottom line is... this is where and how I first met John Crosby... and it was a one on one situation... John just told me about what he and those other two fellas used to do... and I, shall we say, seized the moment.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, as we now return to the Crosby pond... John Crosby made a rather startling announcement... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He goes... Jasper, I want you to know that you saved my marriage.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, did I now... do you care to explain how I did that?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... well, not exactly the marriage, just the bedroom part of it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, you mean this tortured hero business?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Damn right... hell, you know what can happen when you're married... after you have a kid or two, you fall into the trap... sex on a schedule... same thing once every other day or so... same position... do your thing, usually in the dark and quiet so the kid doesn't hear you... then it gets to be once a week... then every other week... and before long you just don't give a shit anymore. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah... I know... I've heard this sad tale far too often... about people getting bored with one another... Is that how Ginny felt about it too?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Probably... we never talked about it... make no mistake... she worships me... always has... case you couldn't already tell... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, I could tell right off... and we already talked about how lucky you are...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">No doubt about that... and I feel the same about her... it was just boredom like you say, that's all it was... and more my fault than hers... but when you resurrected those old games... well, Ginny jumped right on it... and since then, I've been firing loads like I's 14 all over again. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... well, shit, John... tell me something I don't know.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ok, I will... first of all... there should be 94 head of cattle in this pasture... how many have you counted? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Uh, 96.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">See, Jasper, that's why you could never be a farmer... you have got to keep your eye on every living thing that you own.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">No arguments here, John... too much responsibility for me, too much stress. I load and off-load truck trailers eight hours a day... then I go home... end of story. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And you fuck. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, yeah... I do plenty of that... and I suck and I eat...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And you're damn good at all of it, Jasper... speakin' of eatin'... we're meeting Ginny for lunch.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Lunch? It's nearly 4 in the afternoon. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, Jasper, we're on our vacation schedule now, aren't we... and I say it's time for lunch... after our swim. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And with that, John headed for Wilson's creek... on his property... named for his great, great-grandfather Wilson Crosby who laid claim to this spot of earth after the Civil War. Ginny was there waiting for us, having backed up the bed of a humongous dually pickup, also a Chevy, right next to the water... tailgate down. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Come on boys... said the naked lady submerged in water halfway covering her titties... time to rinse away your sweat. We stripped... and we joined her... Now here was a hole much deeper than the rest of the creek... and this is where we swam and frolicked... eventually, John and Ginny were standing in water up to their necks... hugging and kissing one another. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John goes... come on, Jasper... get up here behind Ginny so I can hug the both of you... I did and he grabbed my shoulder blades... pulled me towards him... crushing her between us... her poor titties smashed against his chest... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny goes... my god, you two... I think I've died and gone to heaven... just melting away here between my pair of... hot, sexy men... Ha... I kissed her neck... kissed her shoulders, back of her moistened head... John rubbed his wet chest against her wet titties... clamped us all together in his powerful arms... sucked on his wife's tongue... I got my hands on his shoulder blades... squeezed us together even tighter... I felt reverberations running up and down her spine when John inserted his cock to her pussy hole... and Ginny unlocked her mouth from John's .. looked up to the overhanging branches... and gasped... oh, my god, you two are driving me crazy... I can't get enough... Jasper... I want you... in the back of the truck... in the basket... get the jar... jar of vaseline... get in me, Jasper... gotta have you both... go. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I separated... found what she wanted... lubed my cock... kept a healthy gob on my hand... kept it above water until I's behind her again... lubed up her ass... inserted myself slowly... waited for her to accept me... slipped my hands between John's belly and hers... pulled her belly towards me... came forward with my cock... listened to her groans of pleasure... told John to squeeze us together... he grabbed my shoulder blades and I got his... and together... we double impaled our precious Ginny... we thrust our hard dicks into her as deep as we could go... the head of my cock making contact with his... inside of her... ha... at least it felt like it... in unison, Ginny's men retracted... in unison, Ginny's men came forward... we crushed her between us... connected ourselves inside her... shish kabobbed her... John and I were in perfect harmony... retracting and thrusting in a synchronized partnership... a double impalement of the two female holes... our woman collapsed... her body overwhelmed by our two-pronged dominance... but her body could not collapse... we held her aloft... crushed her between us... our manly chests enveloping her in our wet and fur-covered vise... our mighty cocks penetrating her from opposite directions... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She tried to contort... she tried to convulse, but there was no room for her movement... shockwaves caused her body to quiver... moans of uncontrolled female pleasure drowned out the streaming current... grunts of caveman dominance drowned out her female moans, as Ginny became a rag doll... all resistance gone... consumed with surrender... consumed with ecstasy... female screams drowned out male grunts... female milk exploded inside vaginal walls... male milk gushed inside rectal walls... a third explosion... male milk flooding female pussy... three human bodies melted... our heat cooled by bubbling water... John's fingers dug into me deep, mine disappeared into him... Ginny's breasts all but disappeared... crushed and stimulated by masculine pectorals... and as the throes of triple orgasm rendered us ALL useless rags... we all three collapsed... our knees faltering... two male cocks slipping out of heated darkness and into cooling liquid... ah... steam... shshshshs...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">None of us were hungry for food... we were hungry for each other... and as one we made our way to the shallows near bankside... where we could float... Ginny, centered between her men, our bodies submerged, nearly horizontal... our heads aloft, so we could kiss... so John could kiss Ginny, so I could kiss Ginny, so Ginny could kiss the both of us...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And with our hands we felt one another... our skin soothed by Wilson's creek, protected from hot air of July... and it became quite clear to all of us that... we were finding it more and more difficult to keep our hands to ourselves... and it was inevitable that what we started with our hands would progress to lips and tongues... and with two men sucking on two female breasts... it became even more clear that... all inhibitions were falling by the wayside... John and Ginny Crosby were 100 percent comfortable with me... and I with them... no hidden jealousies over who was doing what to whom, no hurt feelings as to why John was needing my special talents when our paths crossed... no questioning as to why for nearly two years he'd finagled ways to... secretly connect with me in that hotel room... no resistance as to why John finally decided to share his love for Ginny with me... it is because he loves her that he told her about us... because he knew just how much she does love him... and it is because she loves him that he knew he could trust her... to keep his secrets secret... and it is because she loves him that she embraced the chance to fulfill his needs. A new spark to re-energize what was slipping away from them... that's what I represent to Ginny... and to John... and believe you me, I count my blessings every day... because I am that spark... I am the privileged soul who is lucky enough to be a part of their SECOND life... their new-found lust... to rekindle and solidify what was already there... their never-ending passion... for one another.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, we did get off again, all three of us, then we finally got around to the meal Ginny'd brought for us to eat... which we devoured while sitting on the dually's tailgate... naked... our feet dangling in the cool water... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, these things I've described for you... from the time we left their under the barn dungeon until our fornication in Wilson's creek... that pretty much became our routine for the next several days... as I continued to stick with John like flypaper 24 hours a day... whether he was sleeping, working, or sexing... but don't you worry... there will be variations on this theme... otherwise... the story would for all intents and purposes be over... but it's not over... John's got a long way to go to get through his misery... while Ginny and I've got a... few more ideas on ways to keep him occupied. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As for now... we will leave it at the creek... and fantasize of multiple orgasms in hot July.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Part 7 in a week</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02020306458360249894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989444577427643187.post-85476895015585796692015-05-31T19:53:00.001-05:002015-05-31T19:53:59.854-05:00Farmer John, Ginny and Jasper - Part 5<span style="font-size: large;">Hello, everybody... this is Jasper McCutcheon... did I tell you that John and Ginny Crosby sleep in a king sized bed? Of course I didn't... I had never seen it... never even seen their bedroom... didn't figure I was going to either... not on that first night. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">All three bedrooms were upstairs... their daughter's... theirs... and one guest bedroom... that's where they put me... in a regular sized, antique poster bed... that squeaked... this is after we had our dinner and sat down to watch a broadcast movie on television... most of through which John snored. Ginny said that's what he usually does whether he's been put through the ringer or not. He woke up for the evening local news, weather and sports... and then we shut down the house... bed time... for sleeping. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, make no mistake, I was dead tired... problem is... I usually work either 3 to 11 shift or 11 to 7... so my brain was on work schedule even though my body was not... and to be honest... I was feeling a bit lonely... started having suspicious fantasies that they were in there making love to one another without me... pretty fucking bold of me, wouldn't you say... after all, they are a married couple... what the hell business is it of mine what they do when the lights are out... Anyway, I was just about to pull out my pecker and jack it off when a knock came on my door... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Jasper, you still awake?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, John, I am... The door opened... John turned on the light... stood there in his white briefs. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, get your ass in here with us... we just put you in here so you can mess up the room... make it look like somebody's staying in here. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, even though nothing happened then and there... it still made me much happier to be in their bed with them... John and I kept our underwear on... Ginny stayed in her skimpy nightgown... and guess who slept in the middle... John did... that's for two reasons... number one... Ginny and I used him for our pillow... rubbed our hands on him when we felt like it... the other reason was so that John could not go anywhere without waking one of us up... you know, in case he had a mind to go sneak a cigarette somewhere... ha... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He didn't... none of us had a mind to do anything but sleep... until sometime in the still darkness... when John cast us both aside... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I gotta go piss...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny goes... Jasper, honey... you better go with him...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John says... Oh, for Christ sakes, Ginny... there ain't any cigarettes hidden in the bathroom...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So you say... Jasper... go... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... I did... I followed him... went in there with him... you know, I just love a man who can unleash his stream with no hesitation... did I ever mention to you that John's pecker is about two inches thick... and when it's geared for action... it's somewhere between 7 and 8 inches long... that oughtta be enough to fill about any hole you could find... don't you think. I started my own stream about five seconds after he got his going...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hey, John... are you sore from yesterday's workout?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sore where?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... anywhere... your spine... your belly... your nuts or your dick.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, Jasper, I ain't so sore that I can't be open to suggestions... besides... it is a rare occasion when Ginny lets me start my day without getting me off one way or another... only time she doesn't is when I tell her I need to skip a day. Ain't I a lucky son of a bitch?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, John, you are... and it's good that you know that. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha.. that ain't the half of it, Jasper.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, unbeknownst to us, while John and I were having our man talk in the upstairs bathroom, Ginny had crawled out of bed and relieved herself in the downstairs bathroom... and we all converged at the same time back in their bedroom... Ginny was now naked, except for one item... she was wearing a burgundy and cream colored letter jacket...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She goes... Jasper, did you know that John was a football stud in high school? Broke the state record for tackles his senior year...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">No, I didn't... what position did you play, John?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Middle linebacker on defense... running back on offense. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Damn, that's a lot of work for one man...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, when you only got 16 players on your team... 11 of 'em's gonna play both sides, aren't they...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ginny piped in... Jasper, would you like to see how John and I did it the first time?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha.. you know I would... I assume you were both still in high school...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(G) Yes we were... John took me to a motel room... but guess what? He uh... had a bit of trouble getting himself started. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">What? I find that hard to believe... are you telling me that John Crosby couldn't get a hard on?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(G) Oh, no, Jasper... that's not it... he was fully erect... I guess the best way to put it is that he was a bit... apprehensive. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ok, John Crosby... explain yourself. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, Jasper... it's not as though I hadn't fucked before... never had a problem doing it before either... but that night was homecoming... after a hard-fought game with Maysville... which we lost by 3... and then the damned homecoming dance... well in other words... I was worn out. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, how did you get him motivated, Ginny?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">By taking charge of the situation... she motioned to her husband... Strip down and get on the bed, John... let's redo this... for Jasper...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... like they weren't doing it for themselves, too... Ginny explained that they'd wasted half an hour with John laying on top of her... most of that time with him totally missing her hot spot... until eventually she announced that she had to go to the bathroom... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She goes... I just told John that so I could get him out of me and go freshen myself up... figure out a way for us to start all over... that's when I got the idea to put on his letter jacket. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, it is at this point that Ginny stopped talking to me... and started talking to John... just like she'd done all those years ago...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(G) Well, Mr. Homecoming king... get ready for your Homecoming queen... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With John laying on his back... hands folded behind his head... Ginny straddled him... still wearing his letter jacket... her knees were on the mattress at either side of his rib cage... her ass on his belly... his hard dick conveniently nestled in her butt crack. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She goes... you might be top dog on the football field... but here... now... you belong to me...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She pressed her hands onto his chest... leaned forward and buried her tongue into his mouth... then, she raised up... scooted back... lifted his cock in her hand and inserted it to her vagina.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, John... I've waited three years for you...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She slowly... lowered herself upon him... taking his thick, powerful meat all the way into her...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've let you poke just about every hole in this county... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She flexed her vaginal walls... crushing him inside her warm, wet, velvety vise.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Because I knew someday... I'd have you all to myself... have you right here where I want you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She raised herself up... clipped the head of his dick... rubbing him on her clittie... and then she began her slow, torturous glide up and down his mighty pole... squeezing the hell out of him with every stroke.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And now that I've got you... I am never letting you go... do you hear me John Crosby? Those other tramps can fawn over you all they like... you belong to me... from now on... all mine... now and forever.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ha... John didn't even answer... unless you can call that little whimper he let out some sort of answer... not an answer really... more of a surrender... a moan of unbridled ecstasy... as John Crosby gave himself up to her... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, make no mistake... I was hypnotized by what I saw... as I stood there by the side of the bed watching her ride up and down on him... watching him curl his toes... puff up his chest... watching her crush the hell out of him... her vaginal juices moistening both his pubes and hers... but the time did come when I had to get me a... closer look... I wanted to get up close and personal with the center of the action... and what better place to get a bird's eye view... than from the perch called John's belly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I crawled onto the bed... laid my head upon him... laid my cheek atop his navel... watched her vagina... slowly glide up and down his... thick meat... and as she raised herself on the upstroke... I inched myself towards the two of them... so that when she returned on the downstroke... my tongue was waiting for her... I tasted her heavenly female syrup... investigated her pulsating... vagina... while she stayed right there at the bottom of her husband's pole... his amazing fuck tool splitting her... filling her... with its deep penetration... all the way into her gut. Ginny was in control... taking him all the way inside her... well, that was her choice... a stimulatingly satisfying choice. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">With my right hand I reached up... peeled back her athlete husband's... letter jacket... fully exposing her breasts to open air... I felt their soft skin... I squeezed them tenderly... I rubbed my thumbs across her firm nipples... while my tongue raced from man to woman... the base of his shaft... her labia... majora... minora... my tongue didn't know or care which was which or what was what... I tasted... I felt... I inhaled bubbles of lubrication. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And as my fondling of her breasts caused her to increase the tempo of her strokes... I raised myself to straddle her husband with my knees... I sat on her husband's belly... and I followed her... loving her breasts... one with my hand, the other with my mouth... I moved in unison with her... up and down... sucking on her titty... as though she was to give me her mother's milk... ah, yes... tastes so sweet... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I slid my hands up behind her... beneath her jacket... along her spine... and I clutched my fingers into her shoulder blades... my mouth engulfed her titty... and this beautiful woman started to sing for her men... her melody of unrestrained lust... of a... gradually, intensifying uncontrolled ecstasy... as she thrust her chest towards me... cast aside her letter jacket... allowing it to fall upon her husband's legs... leaving his feet exposed... his toes curling... feet writhing... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Her melody climbed in pitch... increased its volume... as she quickened the pace of her mesmerizing... powerful strokes upon her husband's mighty, impaling cock... my mouth stayed with her... sucking her titty... licking her nipple... maneuvering from her left breast to her right breast... my hands pulling her towards me... as she broke into a steady gallop... riding up and down her husband's all-consuming man meat... riding her stallion... her Trojan warrior... riding her linebacker... her running back... this woman took her super stud jock athlete straight down the field and into her... AHHH... don't make me use that obvious... football cliche... you know where she took him... more importantly... she took herself with him... this man and this woman performed their celebration together... and the sounds they made... contortions and writhings... well, cousins... there is nothing more beautiful in this world than the simultaneous internal explosions of man and woman... two lovers... expressing their love with the same passion on this night as they did on their first night...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And there I was... right there with them... oh, god... what a gift... to think that they want to share everything they feel for one another... with me... and as if that wasn't enough... just imagine the rush I got... when a rough... working man hand reached up to stroke my primed pecker... oh god damn... about 10 seconds later I was shooting my cum onto Ginny's belly... while I continued to worship her tits... and she continued to squeeze her husband's drained cock inside her vaginal walls... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sunrise was just now throwing a pale light into our bedroom... we untangled ourselves... made our visits to the bathrooms... again... and laid down on the bed just as we had been before... we went back to sleep... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now I didn't know this until they told me later, but most times of the year they'd be getting up with the sunrise... but not now... this was July... the cornfields and the beanfields were planted... nothing to do but let 'em grow... the cattle had pasture in which to graze... nothing to do but count 'em... make sure they were all where they were supposed to be... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">John would be making the rounds later in the day... and Jasper would accompany him to make sure he wasn't tempted to... well, you know what... but for now... the Crosby's and Jasper were on vacation... and that is exactly where I am going to leave it... for now. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, until next time, this is Jasper McCutcheon, saying goodnight to you... and sweet dreams. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">__________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Part 6 in a week</span><br />
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