Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'gangraped'.
Found 2 results
-
This is a story rescued from the late lamented Bugshare site. It was always one of my favourites and I thought it was gone for good until I started cleaning out some old files on my computer. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. I'll post it in parts as it's a long read, but worth it Texas Bareback Massacre, Part 1 "We shouldn't go in there," Willie protested with a longing glance back toward his brand new l957 Chevy which was parked askew in a ditch. "Of course we shouldn't go in there," Tad answered his friend in disgust. "We shouldn't be out this late on a school night. We shouldn't have driven your new Chevy out on the Old Loop Road to see how fast it would go. We shouldn't have run it into a ditch. We shouldn't, but we did. So what do you want to do now? Walk ten miles back to town or a few hundred feet to that tavern and call your father for some help?" "My daddy will kill me when he finds out," Willie whined, "he told me never to go near that place." "Well, he's going to kill you about the car," Tad explained in exasperation, "phoning him from the tavern won't make any difference and will save us a ten-mile walk." "We shouldn't," Willie replied, hanging back as his friend walked on ahead. "Come on, baby," Tad goaded his friend and Willie, who was too afraid of being thought to be afraid, followed like a lamb. The tavern was a ramshackle road side inn with a half burnt out neon sign that read "T v rn C ld Be r" and a dirt parking lot containing an old pickup truck and a row of dirty motorcycles. The tavern had a bad reputation with respectable persons not only because it was frequented by bikers but because the bikers were never seen with any biker chicks. Words like 'fairies,' 'queers,' 'faggots' and 'fruits' were muttered about the bikers. Young men from the mill or the college who frequented the place had bad reputations and no respectable man, young or old, ever admitted openly to going into the bar although many of them had remarkably detailed knowledge of what went on inside. "Come on," Tad was annoyed by his friend's hesitancy as he stood outside the tavern door waiting for the all-too-timid Willie to catch up, "We'll just use the phone and get out. Five minutes and then we'll go back to the car and wait for your father." Tad pushed the door open and Willie followed him inside. The tavern was a big square room with a bar running down one side and six broken down, mismatched tables, randomly arranged upon the cracked linoleum covered floor. The floor was dirty, the walls were dirty, the tables were dirty, the bar was dirty and the atmosphere was dirty with the odors of stale bodies, stale beer, and stale smoke hanging in the air, while wifts off stale urine wafted from the restrooms in the rear. The only things dirtier and more odious than the room were the dozen unshaven and unwashed bikers lounging about the tables and the bar. The room fell silent and twelve pairs of sullen eyes turned upon Tad and Willie as they entered the tavern with their fresh washed faces and their fresh washed preparatory school clothes. From behind the bar a sweaty, fat man in a dirty apron beckoned with a soggy, gray rag to the boy's to step up to the bar. "What do you boys want?" he asked gruffly as Tad and Willie approached. Tad for all his bravado before Willie was too abashed by the seedy conditions of the bar and its clientele to immediately speak. Willie was just plain too frightened to say a word. "What ya want?" The barman's tone lowered as he repeated his inquiry. "We know what they want," an intoxicated voice called out thickly. "Well I can give 'em what they want," another drunken voice added. "We all can," the bar patrons all laughed at this suggestion, a laugh as dirty as everything else in the bar. "Shut the fuck up!" the barman snapped before turning back to Tad and Willie. "I don't serve no minors. How old are you?" "Eighteen," Tad finally found his voice but it was slightly cracked. "Eighteen," Willie's voice was so low that he might as well have mouthed the words. "Ya gotta be twenty-one," the barman snapped as his rubbed his dirty rag over the dirty surface of the bar. "We don't want a drink, Mister," Tad was hesitant but polite, "we just want to use the phone." "This is a bar, not a phone booth," the bartender growled. "We can pay, sir," Tad explained as he slid a hand into the pocket of his gray flannel trousers and pulled out a few neatly folded dollar bills. "My friend ran his car into a ditch. We need to call his father to come pull us out." "You don't have to call Daddy," a tall, brawny biker dressed in soiled leather and tarnished chains rose from a table close to the bar, "my boys can pull you out." "Sure as fucking can," a chorus of eager voices assented as the big biker sauntered over to the boys. The big biker stood next to Tad and put one booted foot upon the bar rail. Tad wrinkled his nose as he caught the scent of stale sweat and unwashed clothes and moved a little further away from the muscular mountain of unwashed male flesh. "That won't be necessary, sir," Tad respectfully but eagerly declined the offer, "Willie's Dad can do it." "If you call Willie's Daddy," the big biker said as his casually dropped his leather booted foot from the bar rail and stretched himself to his full height, "Willie will get in trouble. If my boy's pull you out, his old man doesn't ever have to know." "Let him do it, Tad," Willie whispered in Tad's ear as he drew his keys from the pocket of his gray flannel slacks. "I don't want my Daddy to know." Why don't you give your keys to Piston?" the big biker addressed Willie as he pointed to a burly blond biker who was lounging next to the jukebox by the door. "Him and Reb can get your car out and bring it here. Piston was joined at the jukebox by a small dark biker wearing a dog collar, who sidled up remarkably close to his big blond buddy. Reb laid his head against Piston's broad chest as the burly biker put a beefy arm around the younger man's waist. Embraced together they sauntered over to the bar, where Piston held out his free hand for Willie's keys. With a look of fright mingled with disgust, Willie shied away from the embracing bikers, as he held out the keys in his trembling hand. "We better go with them, sir," Tad suggested as he stayed Willie's hand, "so Willie can drive." "Reb can drive," the big biker said as he stepped closer to Tad, "You boys can have a drink with us while you wait for them to bring your car." "No, thank you, sir, we'd better go," Tad refused the unkind offer and taking a step backwards from the towering bulk of the big biker bumped into Willie who was pushed back against Piston's hard shoulder. "Give me the keys, punk," Piston growled as he reached over Willie's shoulder and snatched the keys from his hand. "Take a fucking seat," Reb snarled as he shoved Willie away from Piston and towards the nearest table, "Piston's taken." "Wait a minute!" Tad protested as he reached out to draw Willie back. "You too," the big biker barked as he shoved Tad in the same direction as his friend, "get your ass over there." Tad and Willie were too stunned and frightened to resist. They stumbled over to a dirty table and sat down. The big biker followed the boys and sat down between them as Reb and Piston left by the tavern door. The rest of the bikers quickly gathered around the table like vulture's surrounding a pair of dying animals in preparation for a feast. "What'll you boys drink," the big biker asked. "Nothing, thank you, sir," Tad replied in a subdued tone. Willie could only look nervous and shake his head. "You two boys think your too good to drink with us?" the big biker snarled as the gang pressed around the table and murmured ominously. "No, no, Sir," Tad protested as he smiled weakly in an attempt to mollify the gang, "we're under age. We can't have a drink." "You're eighteen," the big biker turned friendly and smiled but not with his eyes only with his yellow teeth, "you're old enough to drink if you're old enough to fuck." The men around the table laughed and nudged each other at this remark. "Fucking, right," one said. "Give the boys a drink," another crowed, "they're plenty old enough to fuck." The gang laughed again. "Beer for my new boys, Sam," the big biker called to the bartender. "Shit, Wolf," the bartender complained, "I'll lose my fucking license." "Lock the fucking door," Wolf, the big biker commanded, "We'll make this a fucking private party." "Fucking ace!" the gang cheered. One of the gang peeled off from the crowd around the table and snapped the lock closed on the front door, while Sam waddled out from around the bar with two pitchers of beer, which he set before the boys. "Drink up," Wolf commanded the two teenagers. Tad and Willie looked at the foaming pitchers with dismay. Neither one had ever done more that have a sip of his dad's beer. "Drink the fucking shit up," Wolf was back to snarling and showing his yellow teeth. Tad took the handle of the pitcher that was set before him and lifted the jug to his lips. He took a small sip from the frothy contents before putting the pitcher down. Willie sat so frozen with fear that he was unable to speak or move or drink. "These fuckers don't know how to drink," a fat biker behind Tad roared as he grabbed Tad's pitcher and took a healthy swig before passing it into the crowd. The other pitcher too was taken and the gang around the table quickly drained them both before returning them refilled to the boys. "Now drink up, boys," Wolf commanded. Tad picked up his refilled pitcher to take a little sip but as his lips touched the rim, Wolf put his hand on the bottom of the pitcher and held the jug up to Tad's mouth. Tad took several deep gulps as Wolf tipped the pitcher up and forced more of the contents to Tad's lips. Tad could not swallow the cold brew fast enough to keep his mouth from overflowing. Beer ran down his chin and dripped upon the front of his red and white striped button down shirt. Willie tried to reach out for his pitcher but could not bring himself to touch it. A helpful biker grabbed Willie by his red hair and pulled his head back, while an equally helpful friend poured the contents of the pitcher into Willie's gaping mouth. The boy coughed and choked and spluttered and spewed beer upon the gang. "Fucking asshole, you were told to drink that shit," the helpful biker roared as he pulled Willie by his hair from his seat. Tad immediately leapt to his feet to defend his friend and was immediately forced to sit back down by the burly bikers standing behind him. "Sit down, mother fucker. Leave Crank alone," Wolf snapped as he put his dirty hand on Tad's shoulder, "he's just gonna teach your fucking friend a lesson in good manners." Crank, the helpful biker, swung Willie around by his hair and dragged the boy away from the table to the center of the floor. "Ow! Ow! My hair," Willie cried as tears filled his eyes and he tried to keep his feet. "Shut up you fucking cry baby or I'll give you some shit to cry about" Crank shouted as he released Willie's hair to slap the boy across his tear streaked freckled cheek. The force of the blow sent Willie reeling. He fell against a vacant table and sprawled across its top. He lay on its dirty surface in a huddled mass trembling like a wounded rabbit before a beast of prey. He lifted his disheveled head and fearfully looked back at Crank. From his seat across the room, Tad could see blood trickling from the corner of Willie's mouth and the red bloom of Crank's hand print upon his pale cheek. "Leave him alone," Tad protested as he felt rough hands hold him down before he could start to rise. "You better forget about your fucking boyfriend, he's Crank's now." Wolf leered at Tad as he spoke, "You just worry about who your fucking boyfriend's going to be." Crank took Willie's wrist and drew him from the table to his feet. Willie leaned back against the table edge to support himself while he put one hand to his red cheek and tried to stifle his sobs. "Take off your shirt off, cry baby," Crank demanded. "Show your Daddy what you've got." Willie leaned further back against the table to draw himself as far away from Crank as he could. He snuffled as he tentatively put a hand to the button-down collar of his cotton shirt. For a few moments, he fumbled with the button without opening it, then he dropped his hand to his side and hung his head. "You fucking son of a bitch, I told you to take your shirt off," Crank barked. "Do it or I'll do it for you. Take it of, fucker. Do it! Now!" Willie flinched at the sharpness of Crank's barked command but otherwise he did not move. Faster than a mongoose strikes a cobra, Crank leapt forward and with both hands tore open the front of Willie's white cotton shirt. The fat biker's powerful hands quickly tore the shirt apart and stripped the tattered rags from Willie's body. The boy did not have time to react before Crank struck again with both hands to tear the stunned teenager's fresh white tee shirt from his arms and chest. Willie was too timid to put up a fight, but with instinctive modesty he crossed his arms over his nearly hairless, neatly freckled chest. Willie was a varsity swimmer and had a swimmer's body with lean hard muscles stretched tightly over a slight frame. Except for his head which was covered by a short crop of flaming red hair which had been disheveled by Crank's rough hand, he kept his body hairless by shaving everyday to increase his speed in the water so he said. Like most natural red heads, his skin was fair and freckled and he turned a bright pink all over when he blushed. He was in no danger of blushing as he stood with his arms covering his bare chest and the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Let's see them pretty titties, boy," Crank said as he reached for the Willie's wrists. "Don't! Please, don't touch me!" Willie screamed and started to cry. "Shut the fuck up, cry baby, I don't want to hear no caterwauling," Crank snapped as he backhanded Willie across the mouth. Willie's head snapped to one side as his body twisted and collapsed in a slow spiral to the dirty barroom floor. "Stop him, please, Wolf," Tad begged the big biker to save his friend. "Shut up, cocksucker, just watch the fucking show," was Wolf's only reply. Tad looked all around him and saw that all eyes in the biker gang were focused on the lurid scene before them. Willie lay upon the floor stripped naked to the waist. His boyish face was bruised on both cheeks and he was bleeding from a cut in each corner of his mouth. Over him stood a brawny biker with his fat belly hanging over the top of his worn jeans. His greasy hair was dark and shaggy, his scarred face was unshaven and his eyes burned brightly with lust. As he looked at Willie's exposed chest and the boy's tiny pink nipples, he licked the saliva from his cruel lips. "On your knees, cocksucker," Crank commanded as he pulled Willie up and forced the boy onto his knees. Crank stood before the boy with his sturdy legs spread and his wide hips thrust forward. With one hand Crank unzipped his grease stained jeans and pulled out his short fat prick from his open fly. His other hand he placed behind Willie's head. "Open up, cocksucker," Crank said as his pulled his dick and pointed it at Willie's trembling lips, "wrap your lips around this and get it hard." Willie's eyes grew wide and his face screwed up in disgust. He had never been so close to another man's dick. With quick furtive glances, he had surveyed from a distance the other boys in his gym class showering which was just to check their size against his own. He had never been so close that he could see the veins and blemishes on the dick shaft or smell the stench of an unwashed crotch or feel the heat roiling from an open fly. Willie licked his lips not in anticipation of the unsavory meal offered to him but in the hopes that he would stop himself from puking on the spot. "I said to wrap your lips around my meat, cocksucker," Crank snarled as he shook Willie by the hair on his head. "Do it now!"
- 18 replies
-
- 14
-
-
-
I was drinking in the Eagle one warm Saturday night and got a little carried away. A very large, very hot black man came up to me, put one arm around me and pulled me to him. His other hand went to the back of my head and pulled my mouth into his. He was a very good kisser and I was getting really turned on. I felt hands at my belt and flies and soon a hot mouth swallowed my cock. The black man's hand went inside my pants and fondled my ass. I was in heaven; whisky the only reason I didn't shoot in the anonymous cocksucker's mouth. The black man took my head in both of his hands, the mouth worked my prick and a pair of hands pushed my pants to my knees. I felt the head of a cock, wet with precum, nuzzle my asshole. I tried to pull away and tell them to stop but my head was firmly held, mouth covered with mouth and full of the other's tongue. The cocksucker wrapped his arms around my lower back, the black man held my head and two more arms pinned my butt from the rear. I struggled but could not escape or cry out. I was more turned on than I'd ever been but didn't want to get fucked raw. It didn't matter at all what I wanted. The cock centered on my asshole and stabbed in to the root in one shove. It was an average size cock and the precum, together with my ass lube meant that it didn't hurt all that much. My rapist paused in me, I could feel his breath on my neck. After a few seconds he started fucking me with smooth, steady strokes, in all the way and almost out. Every few strokes I'd feel the head of the prick pop out then slam back into my hole. I was in heaven; it was the fuck of my dreams. I no longer cared that I getting raped by a total stranger; I just wanted him to fill me with cock and cum. He started hammering me hard, panting on my neck. Then he rammed me hard and quivered and twitched in me, filling me with seed. I felt the cock pull out and the mouth pull off my cock. I was empty for just a bit then a different mouth covered my prick and another prick slid up my ass. This one was a lot bigger, as big as the biggest I'd had, maybe 9 inches and thick. Apparently I'd been opened and lubed with enough semen to make its entry effortless. I looked down at the rapist's arms and saw a biohazard tattoo. I moaned into the mouth still feeding me tongue and my stomach flipped. I was getting raped and pozzed. I cried out, struggled and tried to get away. No good. My struggles seemed to excite the second rapist and the huge cock slammed in and out. I jerked in orgasm and filled the mouth milking me with my cum. It felt like I was turning inside out, I came so hard. The cock in me swelled and jerked spastically in me. I felt heat fill my ass as poison cum jetted into my guts. The man kissing me broke off, just before another mouth replaced it I saw the black man's upper arm and the biohazard tattoo on it. I tasted cum in the new mouth kissing me. I was being fed my own load. I eagerly scooped my juice as I felt the cock slide out of me. Another set of arms went around me and another cockhead slid into my gaping asshole. I looked down and looked at the black arms around me. My kisser was going to use me next. I was totally limp now, supported by the three men who were raping me. A mouth took my prick in and gently nursed it back to life. I made no effort to support my weight and let my breeders use me and fill me how ever they wanted. I was in queer heaven and didn't care in the slightest that I almost certainly getting infected with HIV. At least I wouldn't have to worry about it. It was done. I squealed when the, now impossibly large, cock slowly pushed into me. The only thing I'd ever had in me that large was a hand, and it had taken almost an hour to slowly work it's way in. I moaned in pain. That monster cock had to be tearing me open. It rested a while and let my asshole adapt to it. I was in serious pain and in absolute bliss. I gave myself over completely to getting fucked. Since the rape began I'd had my mouth and ass full almost non-stop and my cock covered with a hot mouth. My rapist stroked steadily in and out of my butt, filling me with searing agony and pure pleasure. I moaned back incoherently, unable to form words. After an unknowable period of time the cock fucked in and out rapidly then slammed in impossibly deep and stayed there. I could feel the poison seed filling my ass and had visions of the virus seeping into my blood through my torn-up ass. I shot another load in the mouth milking my cock, probably my last neg load. My rapists picked me up by my arms and carried me over to a chair a set me down in it gently. I was dazed and looked up at them. They were smiling as they stood in front of me, giving me a good look at the biohazard tattoos on all three left arms. The black man walked up, leaned over me and dangled his cock in my face. It was covered with cum streaked with red ribbons of my blood. I opened my mouth and lovingly sucked it in and nursed it clean, tasting cum, ass juice and blood, the flavors of my infection. After he was clean the other two rapists fed me their cocks and I lovingly cleaned the partly dried juices off them. I called in sick for a couple of days to let my ripped up ass heal enough for me to sit in an office chair. I also went to the supermarket and stocked up on gatoraid, canned soup and crackers. Two weeks after my rape I was hit with the worst flu of my life. Might have been a coincidence, but I doubt it. I was another infected dick sucker for sure. Every Saturday night I go back to the Eagle, hoping to find my three rapists, or at least the black man with the most wonderful cock I've ever had in me. No luck so far, but I have taken several loads from other guys. I've also fucked and filled four guys with my poison cum. No words were exchanged in any of the fucks, so I have no idea if the bitches were poz or neg. Not that I give a shit.
- 13 replies
-
- 16
-
-
-
-
