Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/A/ASS13739.TXT

Text File | 1994-03-27 | 26.8 KB | 474 lines

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A SEXUALLY EXPLICIT FICTIONAL STORY.
DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED IN
READING
ABOUT SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SITUATIONS AND ACTIVITIES..

To the alt.sex.stories reader:

        This is the 4th in a series of stories dealing mainly with
male to male sexuality, though the series will contain some male/female
sex and the thoughts, fantasies and activities of bisexual characters
as well.

@BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ
FRIDAY 13" #4: TAKIN' DOWN THE BIG TOP
    BY Stroker Al
@END_FILE_ID.DIZ



Foreward: Eddy has finished his story about Greg and Andrew
overcoming their dick sucking problem (#3 SWEET HONEY AND THE ROCK).

    Mark has been listening to Eddy with some amusement, but also
some boredom. The stories that had been told so far were definitely on
the vanilla side. He decided that it was time for something a little rougher.
And as the guy among them with the most sexual experience, the least
inhibitions and possesing the confidence that goes along with having the
biggest dick in the room, who better to introduce such a tale?

    "Hey guys," he said, "I don't know who spewed their wad next, but
I heard a pretty wild Friday story and I want to tell it next.  Any
objections?"
    No one spoke up.  "Go ahead, Mark," said Jim, reaching over for
Mark's erection in encouragement. Jim looked at that moment like he was
ready to hear anything, but Mark's tale would prove to be quite a shock
to his conservative expectations.....


 "Takin' Down the Big Top"  (Mark's Story)


    "So what are we waiting for?"  Lawrence asked, as he reached over
and groped the hardening mound of his summer fuck-buddy's Levi s basket.
Jorge scowled slightly, but continued walking along side him without
slowing his pace.
    "Relax, babe.  I promised I'd fuck your pussy  ass tonight before
the campfire starts , and I will.  But first I've got some things to do."
    Lawrence frowned slightly. "How do you know I don't wanna just
suck you off tonight?"
    Jorge laughed and showed his wide mouthful of teeth, framed by
his black Latino goatee.
"Yeah, right. Like that wouldn't put us to sleep, puta!  When are you
gonna stop pretending you want to do anything else but take my big prick
up your tender white butt?"
    Lawrence persisted.  "I do like sucking your dick! It's just that
you never let me.  I like licking the salt out from under your foreskin
with my tongue. I like feeling your dickhead against the back of my
throat and your balls against my chin."
    Jorge shook his head.  "You don't know what you're talking about,
babe.  See I'm the one who watches  your face when you're giving me head
and when you're on your back with your legs over my shoulders and I'm
drilling you with my dick.  I'm telling ya it's the fucking you LIKE ,
babe.  You fuckin' LOVE it,  puta."
    Lawrence was silent for a moment as they continued walking down
the long path through the woods.  "I didn't always love it." he said
finally, pushing a big shock of blond hair off of his forehead.
    "Yeah, not until you learned to relax, babe.  But I haven't heard
you screamin' bloody murder like that for weeks.  Quite the opposite,
Peaches. "  he added, reaching back and squeezing Lawrence's
Khaki-covered ass.   "'Yes.'  'More.' ' Deeper.'  Those are pretty
encouraging words, wouldn't you say?"
    Lawrence nodded.  "Yes, I encourage you.  I love it when you fuck
me, " he grinned, reddening.  "But it's like I want something more, too.
I'm not sure what."
    "More?" Jorge snorted. "What else is there? Like any of these
other camp staff dudes has a bigger or harder dick than mine.  Try em'
puta, you'll be disappointed. I got what you need."
    "I know, Jorge.  I don't want anybody else.  I just want....more
of you." he said quietly, looking straight ahead.
    "Hey, babe, I give you more! " Jorge cried. " I've sucked you
off,  it doesn't do anything for you.  I bite your tits, I put your balls
in my mouth,  I slap your ass, I kiss you as deep as I fuck you,  and
you're saying it's all nothing to you.  "
    "No, that's not what I'm saying...."
    "Then what?"
    Lawrence stopped, hesitated.  He looked at Jorge, almost
cringing.  "I w-want to feel w-what you feel when you're.....fucking me.
I w-want to f-fully experience your ass."
    Jorge blinked and then laughed out loud.  Lawrence reddened but
continued to look Jorge in the eyes.  "What's so damned funny?" he demanded.
    "In the first place, babe, as I told you once before,
nobody--NOBODY fucks me!" Jorge smiled grimly.  "I'm a proud macho Latino
caricature and I do all the fucking.   In the second place, your sweet
little dick never gets hard enough to fuck somebody, let alone this
tight-assed Cubano."
    "How do you know it doesn't get hard enough?" Lawrence shot back.
    Jorge laughed again and embraced Lawrence, who remained stiff
with irritation. "Who knows your dick better than I do?" he said. "Don't
fight nature, puta.  Relax. Enjoy it."
    Lawrence loosened up somewhat and finally returned his embrace.
    "Now I have to go, Peaches," Jorge said as he dipped his hands
down under the belt and waist of Lawrence's pants and fondled his ample,
rounded butt cheeks.  "I'll meet you back at the cabin in exactly one
hour." Then he whispered into his ear: " If you're already stripped,
greased up and in bed on your back by the time I get there, we'll have
more time and I can fuck you longer."
    Jorge kissed Lawrence and then hurried off ahead on the path.

    Lawrence walked slowly and thought over the conversation they had
just had.  The part that had really annoyed him was the remark about not
fighting nature.  It sounded like something a straight fundamentalist
preacher would have said, and he believed it even less that he would have
coming from someone like that.  Nature, Lawrence had learned, was a very
complex thing. And when people started to talk authoritatively about it,
they tended to become faced with the exception  that disproved their
point.

    Jorge approached the latrine at the top of Cedar knob, a hill at
the outskirts of the main camp at Lake Christopher.  All summer it had
been his favorite place to go, to sneak a cigarette, to think, or just to
take a nice long relaxing dump far away from everyone else to the west of
the main camp.  It was only here in this particular, rarely-used latrine
that he felt comfortable giving in to the pleasures of shitting.
Everywhere else was too crowded, not private enough.

    But the previous weekend a new pleasure had sprung unexpectedly
from his visit.  He had had the  sensation of being followed that day as
he passed up the hill.  Anyone from any of the nearby cabins could have
seen him and followed, but he had not noticed anyone around.  Still he
thought he heard sounds behind him in the woods the whole way.

    Once inside, he'd forgotten about it, and stood in front of the
latrine bench, where he'd pulled his  cuffed jeans shorts and Calvin
Kleins down around his ankles and settled his firm, compact, light brown
ass down onto the worn, soft wooden edges of the latrine hole.  The hole
was just big enough to spread his cheeks slightly  as he'd sat down on
it, while being small enough to give no sensation of any danger of
falling through, as he'd always had in latrines as a child.

    The smooth contact of the wood on his bare ass flesh, the slight
spread of his cheeks had signaled his colon for the event he'd
anticipated.  He'd relaxed his heretofore tensed ass muscles and waited
for the exquisite sensation to begin.  Then the man-sized turd that
represented his huge dinner from the night before began to squeeze itself
through the threshold of Jorge's outermost sphincter ring.  He'd tensed
his asshole for a moment, to savor the weight and pressure of the mass of
waste matter that hung there, solidly and firmly.  He'd always liked to
put the moment off for a few seconds.  It added to the overall pleasure
when gravity, and the action of his colon lining conspired to finally
expel the mighty hunk of shit from his body.  At last he'd surrendered to
the inevitable and let his big warm turd slide out of his ass with a wet
crackling sound to plunge below to the rank pool of filth and water .
"Ahhhh!" Jorge had said out loud, as he'd always done as a child, in
celebration of the unique private pleasure of taking a dump. It was
better than sex, he admitted to himself each time. At least better than
sex had become with Lawrence, he' remembered thinking.  He was becoming
so fucking bored with their sex, but couldn't imagine what to do about it.

     He had just sat there for a while smoking a cigarette and
thinking.  He'was reaching over to the toilet paper in preparation for
wiping himself, when he'd heard a noise behind him outside. A wooden
board was being removed from the wall against his back, apparently  below
the level of the latrine bench.  He'd frozen out of confusion.  "What the
hell..." he'd wondered to himself, trying to figure out what was going
on. Then he'd felt something touch him from underneath and  cried out in
shock.  It was a wet, darting sensation,  He'd attempted to leap up and
off the bench but the tangle of his shorts and briefs around his ankles
had sent him stumbling back asswards down again onto the bench.  In the
fall he'd struck his head against the wooden wall and was momentarily
preoccupied with the pain.  But when the immediate intensity of the blow
had subsided, clearly unaccompanied by any real injury, he'd become aware
of the unmistakable sensation of being rimmed from below the latrine
bench.  Someone's tongue had begun cleaning out his asshole.  The
lingering sensation of the expelled turd had been replaced by the
massaging, probing, cleansing action of some camp faggot's tongue.  Jorge
had set down the toilet paper and relaxed into the incredible sensation.
He rarely needed to wipe much anyway since his turds were almost never
loose or wet.  But that day he didn't  need to wipe at all.

    "Yeah, queer boy, eat my shit out good," he'd murmured, winking
his asshole with the sensation.  He'd tried to get a glimpse of the face
below without disengaging, but it was impossible, especially with his
balls and his now burgeoning dick in the way.  Giving up at last, he'd
finally just relaxed and beaten off for the duration of the rim job.   As
soon as he'd cried out in orgasm, the tongue had disengaged and the
secret rim jobber and taken off into the woods.

    This week, the tongue was back.  Only this time it started
working on him before he had had a chance to enjoy dumping his daily
macho turd. Jorge started to jack himself off when the tongue began its
dance around his asshole, but upon remembering his promise to fuck
Lawrence less than an hour from that moment, he held back from orgasm.
Still, he was able to savor the incredible sensations of being eaten out
by this unknown and invisible stranger.

    There were some new sensations this time.  After a point, the
tongue pulled away from his hairy pucker, and a moment later he felt
something else touch it lightly.  It was slightly cooler than the tongue,
but wet.  It was smoother, but more angular and non organic-feeling.  It
made a little journey around the circumference of his tight butthole,
trailing cool wetness and a tingling sensation like that of rubbing
alcohol.   He winked his hole semi-voluntarily in response to the
mysterious sensation, and suddenly felt the unmistakable pressure of a
small fingertip against it as if in reply to his motion.  The finger,
probably a pinky, must have been greased, because it felt wet and because
it parted the tiny, wrinkled lips of his pucker ever so slightly and
without discomfort. Still, Jorge's braced his strong, hairy thighs warily
so that he could spring away, in case his mystery asshole licker got any
ideas about trying to cram something else up his ass.

    Fingertips were where Jorge drew the line, because to him, it
wasn't technically penetration.  In fact, far from begrudging any of his
bed mates'  simple curiosity  about just how tight his macho asshole was,
Jorge welcomed these awed little digital probings of his unconquered
rectal walls.  It made for a pleasing contrast to the delicious moment
when he would start shoving his hard on, lubricated only by a handful of
spit, into their assholes.

    The pinky continued to tickle the mouth of his asshole while the
unknown cool and wet sensation returned to a spot an inch or two away.
It began to trace a wider circle around the activity at his asshole,
dropping down with the curves of his butt cheeks and rising up into the
hairy crack of his ass as it progressed in its path.  It struck him with
the wetness and tingling sensation that it might be some kind of
sensitizing love oil, being applied with a firm sponge or soft brush.
Whatever it might be intended as preparation for, Jorge was not about to
hang around long enough to find out, but he allowed himself to enjoy the
attention for now.   Finally, another pass was made of the tingling
wetness in a much wider circle, nearly to the edges of the latrine seat
hole.  This time, Jorge could smell something strong and familiar, yet
not quite identifiable that seemed to be accompanying the wet encircling
of his ass. Nail polish remover? Insect repellent?  No, none of these,
but it was definitely something mundane and not exotic.  Finally, the
tracing stopped, the pinky was removed, and after a few seconds, the
mouth returned to plant a long wet kiss to Jorge's asshole.  Then there
was a shuffling sound and running off into the woods.

    Jorge thought about sitting there for a while longer to enjoy his
dump, but a glance at his watch told him that he would be late back if he
didn't leave immediately. He barely daubed his ass with toilet paper,
since it had already been licked clean.  He passed his hand lightly over
his hard ass cheeks but they already were dry.  Whatever had been applied
had either evaporated or soaked in already.  If there'd been a mirror in
the latrine he would have examined his ass in it carefully, but there was
not.  A second later it was covered in soft, light blue denim.  As be
buckled up and left the latrine he wondered anew who this asslicker could
be.  Surely it was a guy, and certainly one of the counselors and not a
camper--no kid could be that depraved.



     Lawrence, meanwhile,  had gone to the arts and crafts cabin to
pick up his sand candles from the other day.  Daniel, the arts staff man
was there, but so were a handful of campers left over working on their
projects, so he had to small talk with Daniel for a while until they
left.  Finally when the last one left with their ugly  mounds of sand and
wax, Lawrence immediately changed his tone:  "So Danny, where's my
merchandise?"
    Daniel grinned and turned to a battered metal locker, which he
unlocked with a key from his pocket.   Inside was a set of shelves, and
on them was an array of brightly colored wax phalluses of every shape and
size. "Let's see now, Lawrence Lawrence Lawrence......"
    "I think they're those two on the end over there', " Lawrence
said, pointing to a couple of wickless five-inchers in purple wax.
    "No way, stud. Those are the Directors'.  Don't ya even know your
own dick?  You're longer than him by at least and inch and a half.  Ah!
Here we are."

    Daniel brought out a pair of maroon erect cock candles that he
had helped Lawrence cast the week before.  Each candle consisted of a
wide base formed from Lawrence's nuts, topped by his six and a half inch
dick shaft and ending in a flaring, flattened strawberry  head with a
half inch of white candle wick emerging from the general location of his
pisshole.  Lawrence looked at them doubtfully, feeling the length and
mass of the candles, as if in disbelief that they were replicas of his
own dick.

    "Sure are beauties.  Some lucky guy's gonna enjoy sittin' on
these," winked Daniel.
    "Yeah, right." sniffed Lawrence, forcing a smile.
    "Listen, dude, you have a fucking beautiful dick!  Look at this
curve! Look at the shape of the head!"
    Lawrence smiled, but shook his head. "Well thanks, but beauty
doesn't get you very far if it goes limp on you when you need it to be hard."
    "Limp?  What's this limp shit?  Look at these babies, they're
perfectly cast!  You stayed hard for the whole half hour in the plaster!"
    "Yeah, well I had help," Lawrence laughed. "You and your dirty
mouth talking up a fucking storm.  And ...you gave me something to do
with my hands," he blushed.

    "Well who doesn't need help, buddy?  Nothing real fuckin' sexy
about the arts and crafts hut, is there?  How's a dude gonna get his
woody on and keep it up If I don't start talking him up and find out what
makes his fucking balls spin?  Gotta drag it out of some dudes, you know,
the shy fuckers like you, who think they're gonna shock me if I find out
what they secretly wanna do with their counselor buddies.  But when I
find out, pal I let you hear about it.  I rub your face in it, dude,
cause you want it worse than you'd ever admit.  Gotta do extra with some
of them, like you, too.  Gotta whip out my own bone and let ya stroke it
up with my casting Vaseline.

    " 'Course some dudes drive a hard bargain.  Won't let me jizz all
over their face unless I agree to do something special for them.  I mean
besides making the cast and stuff.  I mean like what you asked me to do
standing there with your dick in the plaster cast and my spermy come
crawling all over your face. It was a pleasure, dude, turning around and
bending over with my legs spread to show you my ass.  And then you leaned
forward as far as you could and started talking to my asshole as if it
was his. And you buried your jizzed up face in my ass crack and started
lickin' me out like the last part of a dairy queen cone.  That's when
you  pulled away and told the truth:  Jorge, I want to fuck you so bad,
you said. And I said, "Then you'd better tell HIM,"  That's when the
timer went off, and you unclamped that cast like a pro while begging me
to stay where I was, and then you whipped your schlong out of there all
red and hard and tender and after one touch let out a torrent of horny
counselor spunk and hosed down my ass and thighs.  Course I made you lick
it all off.  It's only fair."

    "I remember."  grinned Lawrence. "Mmm. Tasty.   But what do you
do with the molds when you're done?"
    "Oh., I usually break them up to reuse the plaster.  Why, do you
want to keep yours?"
    "If I could, to make some other candles later."  said Lawrence.

    Daniel had to search the cupboard for a moment because the
plaster mold of Lawrence's dick for some reason was not where he had
expected it to be, next to the candles.  He found it on the next shelf
down.  "Here you go, buddy."  he handed the mold to Lawrence.

    "Thanks, Daniel," Lawrence said.  He examined the mold and picked
at a light tan speck of something clinging to the outer edge of one half
of the plaster blocks.  "What's this?" he asked, picking the soft,
flexible material off of the plaster with his fingernail.

    Daniel took the bit of material from him and examined it.  "I
don't know.  It's not wax.  It's more like plastic or rubber."  He looked
up at Lawrence with an evil grin.    "If I didn't have the only key to
this cupboard, I'd say someone else has taken a liking to your dick."
    Lawrence gaped at Daniel, puzzled but instantly aroused at his
words.  "But who?"  was all he could say.



    Jorge bounded down the path to the cabin he shared with
Lawrence.  The arousal he'd felt back at the latrine was waning even as
he approached the doorway.  He felt a pang of guilty disappointment as he
anticipated yet another round of fucking Lawrence's all too familiar ass,
hearing the same rehearsed-sounding groans of pleasure as he would plow
his lover's boypussy,
while at the same time craving the mysterious surprise delights he had
just left behind at the latrine.   "The bitch better be stripped and
lubed," he grumbled to himself, "'cause I' wanna get this over with."
    Inside, he slammed and locked the door behind him.   On his cot
lay Lawrence,  naked as peeled banana.  He was on his back and had his
legs pulled up and apart,  having grabbed them just below the knees.  The
pucker of his asshole winked and glistened with lube.  He looked pleased
at Jorge's arrival, but the look just irritated Jorge.   He was too
irritated to notice the pair of candles burning on the dresser behind
them, too.

    "Hi babe. "  he muttered, flinging off his shirt, leaving his
white Italian undershirt and gold chain on his chest.   He kicked off his
shoes and socks and pulled off his jeans , and his uncut prick swung
stiffly in the fresh air.  He strode over to the cot and climbed onto the
mattress on his knees.  He slapped Lawrence's ass and ordered him to move
backward.  Lawrence quickly complied, and Jorge' stuffed a pillow under
his ass.  Lawrence knew that this meant Jorge was going to be rougher
than usual, and that he wanted to finish fast.  He gulped and braced
himself, while trying to relax.   "Fuck my ass, Jorge.  Drill me good, "
he hissed, trying his best to make the event that he knew so well seem
exciting,    Even as Jorge positioned his dickhead against his hole and
began his first long thrust.  "AHHHHH! " cried Lawrence. "that's it,
Jorge that's it.  Yes."

     Jorge opened his eyes when he was in all the way and seemed to
glare at his lover.  He gave an extra sharp thrust of his hips and
brought his face close to Lawrence's.  "Just shut the fuck up, babe, and
relax, "  He said.   Lawrence closed his eyes and nodded.  Jorge
proceeded to fuck him in long hard mechanical strokes.  Instead of
kissing Lawrence, as he usually did, he put his head on Lawrence's
shoulder and avoided his lips.

    Lawrence lay there taking Jorge's dick up his ass, and finally
opened his eyes to look at the empty room.  As  empty as their
relationship, he mused.  This was absolutely it.  If he wasn't so used to
submitting, he'd have stopped him right then and there.

    Then he noticed that they were not actually alone after all.

    "Jorge, stop"  he said, but Jorge didn't stop.  It was a habit
they'd fallen into long ago,  unchecked.  Jorge would ignore what
Lawrence would say and go for what he knew he "really" wanted.   Never
mind that he himself was not sure what he wanted anymore, the important
thing was that he keep fucking and get it over with--that the dominant
top man keep fucking the submissive bottom over and over and that the
world continue turning round and round.

    The man who'd entered the cabin was quite a striking figure
standing there, buck naked but for a pair of Doc Martens, white socks,
and a leather strap from an archer's quiver crossing his broad, darkly
hairy chest.  In one hand he held a large hunting bow, and in the other,
his enormously long erection.   Behind him hovered a pair of angelic,
though clearly artificial , white wings.  His twinkling brown eyes looked
directly into Lawrence's as he signaled for his silence by raising one
finger to his lips.  Wary but curious, Lawrence stopped trying to get
Jorge's attention.

    He watched as the real-life cupid reached back and pulled a
single, highly unusual-looking arrow out of his quiver.  This arrow,
while ordinary in all other respects, did not have a sharpened
arrowhead.  Instead, the shaft  terminated with a dildo and balls.  Even
from that distance of more than 25 feet, Lawrence recognized the phallus
as having the shape and size of his own cock, and the same tan color of
the rubber trace on his mold.  But even as he was making the connection
between this man and the apparent tampering with his candle mold, he was
newly startled by the sight of the big brawny cupid raising the replica
of his dick to his curling lips to kiss it . Then the man slipped the
entire length of the artificial cock into his mouth and throat,
stretching his jaws and keeping his eyes on Lawrence even as he pressed
the rubberized balls against his chin and sucked on the shaft.

    After a few moments Lawrence watched the man pull the copy of his
dick back out of his mouth slowly,  exposing the shaft as it glistened
with saliva.  Smiling conspiratorially, the cupid stud then positioned
the arrow's notch against the center of the bowstring, and began to draw
it back, while taking careful  aim.  Lawrence gasped as he suddenly
realized the intended target of this pornographic archer.

    In the mirror above the tall chest of drawers, where on other
occasions Lawrence had absently watched the reflection of his lover
pistoning away on top of him, his attention was drawn to a series of
bright red concentric circles of magic marker that had somehow appeared
on Jorge's churning ass.  The circles clearly formed a target, for which
Jorge's tight, macho unfucked asshole served as the bull's eye.

    The cupid was now taking careful aim, having drawn the arrow all
the way back and tensed the bow.  Lawrence noted that the quiver had
contained only this one arrow,  so that what ever happened, the archer
was only going to get one chance to hit his mark.  It was at that moment,
while contemplating the pain Jorge would feel getting a phallus thrust up
his ass with such sudden force, that Lawrence decided he had to intervene
on his lover's behalf.  He put a hand to his mouth and spat into it.
Then he reached his hand down to Jorge's ass crack and applied the spit
to the pucker of his hole.

    Jorge raised his head and stopped in mid thrust of his fucking to
blink at his lover.  "What are you doing, puta?"  he asked in an
expressionless voice.
    "Preparing you," Lawrence half-smiled.  Like you once prepared
me, he thought to himself.

    Jorge, of course,  did not understand, but was flustered by the
introduction of ass play into this unexpected context.  That Lawrence
seemed to be making some impossible connection to Jorge's presumably
secret latrine pleasures agitated him.
    "Preparing me FOR WHAT?" he cried, shoving his prick deep into
Lawrence's ass again and pressing their faces together. Lawrence gasped
at his lover's sudden assault. Then he cried out, as if to Jorge:

    "Do it!"

    Before Jorge could make the obscene, aggressive reply that
occurred to him, the naked intruder let the arrow fly.

(end part 1 of 2)



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