Dirty Backroad

[nkdnick]

when is next chapter please

[genericuser]

21 hours ago, teachme said:

This is probably my favorite story on here now. I would love to get that piggy with someone. 

I'd love to get shitty with you parTied up

[Guest Somebody]

The author will probably abruptly stop this story like he did the last one.  I have learned not to have any expectations on this site, or from any gay men for that matter.  

[Lthrslampig]

Reading your story has certainly brought dark side of me to the next level.  Thanks for the story.

[asslikker]

With that much crystal meth running through my veins it's hard to keep track of those first few hours. I remember initially going down on a cock as big as a trout attached to a body who rolling belly had FEED ME tattooed on it. I don't want to give bullet-head credit, but the nostril piss created a mucous in reaction to the acidity that coated my throat, in particular the back of my throat that took the brunt of oral abuse, allowing me to swallow Dwayne's carp halfway down my gullet with little trouble. Truth be told I was also into it. I'd never been one for deep throating but my coated throat on top of the threat and (again, truth be told) the excitement of possible castration, got me to service Dwayne like I'd never orally serviced any of the normal-sized boys I'd blown.

Dwayne got the royal treatment: a hands-free blow job that took in every inch of his tool. I was lost for what seemed hours inhaling his cock, feeling how good it was to tickle not just the back of my throat but a sizable amount of it going down my esophagus. I think Dwayne was amazed too. He kept pushing my head down in disbelief so my lips collided continually with his hairy bush. Loose hairs that any other time I would have spent minutes trying to pick off my tongue got swallowed up in each thrust down his giant cock. As high as I was I expect he was too, and no one had given him head like I was giving him head. He came fairly quickly but after he came didn't want me to stop. It was only after I start polishing his knob with my fist that he begged me. Judging by the looks on the other's faces, I had done what others hadn't, that is, gone beyond pleasuring this massive beast to the point where he wanted no more of it.

That didn't mean by any mean I was finished. Only just beginning. In overwhelming waves of T that weren't subsiding, I blacked out for a while during and after working on Dwayne. I was tripping heavily outside of the reality I was in. For a while I thought I was in a grocery store, that I was the meat being sold and parceled out to various customers. These customers, whenever I could focus, kept coming back to Dwayne, Gary, Old John and the kid. For the most part Old John and Young were wrapped up in each other to the exclusion of whatever was going on in the living room, the boy glued to the father's anus. Gary, after Dwayne hit me up the side of my head telling me to stop polishing his knob, took over and ordered me to lie on the floor.

Because of the absolute jumble in my brain, moving from kneeling in front of Dwayne to getting to a prone position on the floor was a major endeavor. Not only could I not understand what a floor was, the position of kneeling was all I could remember ever having done from conception to now. It sounds ridiculous, but I had no idea who "I" was when Gary looked at me, nor could I remember ever having not been in front of Dwayne sucking him off. It's as if I had no life before, only this one, kneeling, having a cock sliding into and out of my gullet. Physical reality, however, took over any lack of brain activity on my part. Gary snatched the reins of abuse once Dwayne had finished. I was continually smacked, my hair pulled, my body punched, until I was on the floor exactly how Gary wanted me positioned. I take it at some point Dwayne was assisting but I never saw him actually slide off the couch and hold down my legs. I do recall, once on the floor, Gary kneeling on my arms, pinning them at my side, hovering his butt over my face. But once his face, specifically his hairy hole went over my mouth and his cheeks covered my eyes, I don't remember much after that, at least not in a linear "this happened next" sense; only a various list of events in random order. The crystal flooded my will, making me pliable to whatever was told to me, moment by moment. If I heard lick, I licked. If I heard eat, I ate. If I was told suck that's what I did. I remember at one point in the darkness a foul taste enter my mouth at the same time a wet ejaculate spurted on my chest, but the memory was quickly replaced with only a residual fetid paste remaining on my lips after I heard an order to swallow. I heard Gary someplace far away saying something long, complicated, yet vaguely family, but all I truly caught was "next time you shit" muffled beneath Gary's soft buns I was worshiping.

While this was an intense undertaking that should have made an indelible mark on my psyche, abridging my character to include things I thought I'd never do, actions taken which I vaguely have some memory of but clouded by a quasi-dream state so I would barely know if they happened or I imagined, or even—dare I say—wished they would happen, an even stronger sensation, one that remained in my sense memory from then till now, was occurring within the shaft of my cock.

In the darkness of Gary's furry ass, I felt at first a tip of a cold wedge entering me. It was hard and painful as it traveled down my shaft, an unfamiliar sensation as it was unpleasant. Someone was holding my semi-rigid dick in place, while the weight of this object invaded me slowly, tormentingly slow, inch by inch. At some point, maybe halfway down my shaft, four inches now that my cock was fully erect, it occurred to me that it had to be the screwdriver Gary had held while he was on a kitchen stool, previously masturbating himself with. Now he was using it on me. While it travel the length of my cock it finally rested too close to my prostate to feel good. I felt its blade twirl with someone at the top twisting the handle. I howled at the internal gyration it inflicted on my prostate, a exceedingly painful but at the same time arousing sensation that I could barely stand. Barely. My cries of torture were muffled between Gary's cheeks as my head rocked back and forth in denial that this was happening. Then the blade was dragged up and out of my piss slit only to fall back inside with even more violence. There was nothing I could do to stop it. No pleas, or cries abated the abuse. In fact, the more noise I made, the more extreme the invasion became. I felt as my stifled begging surrendered to the abuse, my meat as hard as its ever been, bent up ninety degrees skyward, the screwdriver resting at its furthest depth, it was soon followed by a second intrusion going down my shaft. The two screwdrivers were being manipulated by an expert who know how much a body could take and then pushed to take even more. A third was added between the two already piercing me. I felt the manipulator spread the three of them apart, ripping my urethra to a stretch that was breaking me. I thrashed as the three at once were masturbating me from the inside to the point where, not that it felt good, quite the opposite, but to the point where I felt deep within my balls I was getting close to cumming. The last thing I wanted was the cause of such violence to be the trigger for an orgasm, but when the bullet-headed bastard twisted the flathead blades for a final time and pulled them out all together, I shot like a pubescent's first time. Streams of dick snot erupted long after the tools were withdrawn. My body shook with tremors and after shocks, volcanic eruptions that never seemed to end. In the hours of blackness beneath my captor to this moment of release was an eternity, and in the aftermath of eternity my body collapsed in on itself like a blackhole pulling in everything around it. An emptiness of conscious the void will never fill.

When Gary finally crawls off my face it's light outside. Without a word, he and Dwayne leave the trailer with me laying on the floor in a puddle of my own sweat, drool and copious cum. The screen door slams behind them, and I look up to see, almost as a surprise, a very hot naked father and son team grinning down at me, Young John smoking a cigarette, Old John smoking a cigar. I'm primed. As I lay there catching my breath, I can't wait to get between this illicit duo. I feel that at this point there's nothing I won't do.

I'll be disabused of that notion soon enough.

 

[teachme]

Fuck. I was reading this at work and don't think I could run to the restroom fast enough to take care of my dripping cock. Please keep it cumming?

[asslikker]

Lol. Guess if this get into dad/son fisting I should warn #nsfw

Edited April 4, 2017 by asslikker

[teachme]

1 hour ago, asslikker said:

Lol. Guess if this get into dad/son fisting I should warn #nsfw

Haha. Won't necessarily stop me ??

[TTFN]

I wonder what he thinks he won't do.

[nkdnick]

would love to be there to see him experence that

[asslikker]

Early morning light is streaming in. Flecks of dust are in the air and their smoke swirls in complicated spirals tumbling over each other in the still room.

“Old John” is such a misnomer. He’s not old at all. Maybe the beard could make you think he’s older than he is from far away, but if you look at his skin you can see he’s not wrinkled until he frowns or smiles, and only then it's just around his eyes. His blue eyes. Piercing they are. It’s probably the contrast with his black brows with eyes the color of robin eggs. Deep set they are. Shadowy and mesmerizing. As he sits there with his arm around his boy, he studies me with a resolve that either says he’s going to kill me or give me the hardest fuck of my life. He chomps on his cigar freeing his left hand. He runs that hand over his pumped chest for my benefit. Each black hair is drawn back and springs forward once his hand passes. His nipple are large and Young John reaches up and plays with one, softly, until it engorges to an even plumper size. He’s a Tom of Finland drawing made flesh. His sneering smile is definitely of the bad boy variety but I have to believe he's not evil. He asks me how I'm feeling. 

“Great,” I say. Immediately he tells me puppies don’t speak. I bark a happy reply and pant with my tongue hanging out at him.

“Good boy,” he says, patting the couch next to him. “Git up here you mangy mutt.” I bound over on all fours and jump up next to him. “Hoo-wee, you got the worst doggy breath I ever smelled. You like having your wiener play with like that?” I bark a positive reply. “Young John does not like that, do you Young John?”

“Nope. Hate it," he says. "But it lets me do this now.” He takes his father's hand and put his index finger into his piss slit, drilling half-way down his shaft, wiggling it about. “I love when daddy does that. But wait’ll uncle Gary gets out his catheter. See if’n you like that when he’ll fill your bladder so full of everybody's piss till you cain’t take no more.”

“Now, Young John, he’s hasn’t done that to you for weeks. You’re worrying you mutt all to hell.”

Young John puts out his cigarette. He focuses in on Old John. “Daddy, can me and him go to your room and play in the sling? I was showing College how to take my fist and I want to learn him how to take it deep like I do." He leans in to me to tell me confidentially, "Daddy says I’m about ready to get my first prolapse, didn’t ya daddy?”

“You’re getting’ there, boy. Someday, and that might be soon, you’re lil butt’s gonna start hanging out your hole like a little pig’s tail.  And once it does, I’m gonna fuck the stars out of you and eat your ass like it were a delicious pork tenderloin. You’re gonna howl and spit and just cum like a love starved alley cat. Yeah, sure, why don’t you take your mutt and git him ready in the sling. Daddy’s gonna put on a little leather and then see how good you trained him.”

“C’mon, College,” says Young John reattaching my leash. I trot on all fours trying to keep up with him racing down the hall.

Old John’s bedroom is at the end of the trailer and is much larger than Young John’s room. There’s a large king size bed covered in black sheets, and above it hands a sling whose four chained corners reach up to eyelets screwed into the trailer’s ceiling. Old John has followed us in and is at his closet going through it, selectively putting on a leather vest, chaps with a sharply studded cod piece, and snapping on studded wrist bands.

Young John excitedly is boosting my ass up into the sling which is quite high. He helps me put my legs in the leather straps, locking ankle restraints and securing them to each of the chains. He picks up an off-brand shortening and lubes his fist greasing them up to his elbow. “I ain’t gonna chain your arms yet till he get more used to taking a fist. Now remember, you don’t fight me, you hear? You just lie back and relax your hole. Sniff this here bottle when you want,” Young John says, handing me a small popper bottle. “Any time you want me to go in deeper you just take a whiff. Watch this daddy. I’m gonna start me goin' in him with a fist.” And he does. I feel his knuckles lined up at my exposed ass, and he begins pushing while I’m trying to get the greasy cap off the bottle. I take a deep hit and right away he’s popping my ass open with his small fist. I had forgotten what his fist feels like in me, and the poppers are making it a pleasant sensation, one that makes me want him in me deep, one that allows my sphincter to easily accept him. “See, daddy,” he says, pulling his fully clenched fist out slowly and then pressing it in again, “I trained him good, didn’t I?”

Old John comes over next to me, feeling me up. His large hand runs over my pecs, down my belly, and then begin stroking my cock. It’s hard in no time looking up into his handsome face. I reach a hand up and do what I’ve wanted to do since I first laid eyes on him: I run my hand over his black pelt, feeling his protruding nipples, and laying my hand under his pits. I take away the smell of sweat from his moist pits on my hands. It’s stronger then the poppers and makes me want him desperately. He smiles amused. I feel Johnny pushing his small arm forcefully up my hole, deeper and with more force that when we were playing earlier. “Let him do you, College," the man says. "Let him go deep inside.” He's leaning down almost in my face. “The more you let him in you now, the easier it’ll be when I take over. I’m gonna rip the living shit out of your insides, cocksucker. That I guarantee.” He squeezes the tip of my cock and licks the pearl of precum off it. He lets it ride on his tongue and dips down and places it on my lips. He builds up some spit and lets it drool off his tongue. I open my mouth and let it flow into me. “Did you ask College if he has the bug in him?” He looks between my legs at his boy concentrating on my hole. I feel his small arm deep inside me. His hand is starting to veer to the left. So far his small hand and thin arm feel good, getting into places I’ve never felt before. This suddenly turning left, however, is starting to hurt. I take a couple of hits from the bottle and it eases the pain slightly and lets him go in a little deeper.

“He let me bareback him right away so I guessed he's got the bug. Daddy, I think I’m at his turning point. Damn, College, I’m gonna take you past my elbow yet. You ready for that?”

“I'm neg and want to stay—“

Old John put a hand over my mouth. “What I say about talk?” He pulls a gag from his nightstand and quickly straps it over me. I try to say I’m sorry but there’s a mouth bit within the gag that doesn’t allow any words to form. “You don't got the bug, pup?” he asks. “Just nod your head yes or no.” I shake my head no, and now that I think back on Gary's biohazard and scorpion tattoos it’s clear to me the Tina let down my usual cautiousness. I’m dealing with poz guys that take pride in being unsafe. Old John is reading my face, which is full of concern. He places a powerful hand on my chest sensing I might be trying to get up. But besides his pushing me deeper into the sling, there’s Young John’s hand way inside me with his full forearm pumping away. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Old John takes my arm and puts it in a leather restrain above my head. He bends down and licks my pit until it’s sopping wet. Then he reaches over and binds my other arm. He’s bent over me as he does and I get a brush of his hairy chest. I raise my head and push my face onto his nipple and start sucking. “You say you're neg but you just might be conflicted. You sure as hell act like you're ready to be knocked up." He holds my chin and talks to me seriously. "If you’re kindly, I might could.” He’s now smiling, flashing his yellowed teeth. I shake my head again no, emphatically. “Nah, don’t you worry none. I won’t if’n you don’t want me to. But why don’t we give you a lil’ fortification and then see how you feel about it. Son,” he says to Young John. He wanders over to stand in back of the boy running his big hairy mitts over Young John’s chest. “You keep up the good Lord's work. Your daddy’s so proud of you. Looks like he’s just about ready to take a man-size fist thanks to you, studded wrists and all. Pull out for a sec, lemme see that hole.” He does, and Old John slips in several of his sausage fingers. He slips in another finger from his other hand and pulls my hole painfully apart. “Hoo-wee, he’s a tight one, ain’t he? You best start usin’ two fists and see if he cain’t take that before I come back. I’ll be two shakes with works for the three of us.”

“Yes, daddy,” Johnny says. He greases up both hands like he’s washing them. He’s still folding one hand over another as he slips one hand in, pulls it out and right away puts in the other. He keeps this up and I feel my hole starting to melt against all resistance. He’s not letting my hole clamp shut for a second, but has both hands so close to my stretched out hole that, without warning, he’s pulled apart my hole and has both hands inside still folding over each other inside me. He’s good. It causing all sorts of distress yet it feels like an incredible massage. I can’t help making sounds of pleasure but still beg him to stop. It's too much.

“You like my daddy, don’t ya?” I can’t communicate anything to him, but only feel how he’s working my hole into an over-the-top erotic frenzy. “Best be not liking him too much. He’s my daddy. You got that?” He pulls both fists out simultaneous. I yell into the gag. I’m sure from the force and width of his extraction he’s torn some of my hole. With a cruel smile he shows me a bit of blood on his right hand. “He ain’t your daddy,” and he punches his right fist deep into my gut. He’s trying to hurt me now so I try clamping shut my hole, but it’s not working. He’s going for deep thrusts, pausing occasionally at his deepest point of penetration, giving me most of his forearm, before he slips a couple of fingers from his free hand, stretching me out, trading arms, eventually slipping in a hand, and again stretching my hole to the extreme. With an arm and a hand deeply buried, he violently pulls out. “I seen the way you look at him.” He slaps my balls, and my dick jumps straight up. “I seen the way he looks at you. Seen the way he looks at your big gooch.” He punches me in the balls. Again I jerk in pain. “He ain’t yours to look at that way.” He throws a hard right punch, smashing my balls, then a left, connecting again in the same spot. He alternates like a boxers, head down, my balls are his punching bag. In pain I’m flinging myself back and forth. I'm starting to feel sick, afraid if I throw up I’m going to choke in my own puke.

Old John walks in and Young John abruptly stops. Old John holds three syringes and eyes Young John disapprovingly. “You boys playing nice?” he asks.

“Yes, daddy. I got two hands in him just like you said. He bled a little, but I bet you’re gonna make him bleed a lot more, won’t ya daddy?”

“More’n likely. How else he gonna learn to take a man’s whole arm. Right boyo? How else did I learn you to take what a man's got to give.” He tapping the edge of each vial getting air bubbles out. “Member how much you liked it when you first took daddy’s arm all the way? How I’d make a muscle and make you squeal?”

“Yeah, an’ how, when you got all the way, I could feel your armpit hair tickling all the way up to my second ring. Will you do me like that after we get our shots?”

“First daddy’s got to attend to your friend.” I see Johnny throw me a real angry look. I would reassure him if I could that I’m not after a permanent position, but I’m not sure myself if I’m not at least partially hook on his daddy. I’ve never really thought about the whole daddy thing—I think of myself more in the brother-on-brother lane. But if I were to want a daddy I doubt I could do better than this dark haired, blue eyes muscle god that’s holding up a needle to my neck. “Hold still, boy. You don’t want me to miss. It’s not as strong as your first one, just a sort of pick-me-up.” He stabs my neck and floods it into me. It goes straight to my brain and he wrong: it’s just as strong; it kicks me in the head and in the nuts. With the gag in my mouth I suddenly feel I can't breathe. I'm panicking and Old John is holding my face in his hand. He's telling me to just ride it out, that I'm okay, he's got me. I melt into his hand. I want him to never let me go. All I want is his dick in me, bug or no. And as the drug takes hold of my mind, I amend that desire: I want his bug; I want it to be his DNA to infect me. “You happy now, boy?” he asks me seeing that the panic has passed and pure lust taking over. I still can’t focus on him, my eyes are so crossed, but I feel safe in his care. “Young John, fetch me that bottle of G and my plunger. I want him to be out of his mind horned up when I fuck him."

Johnny is out of the room in a flash and it’s just me and him. I feel like I'm in a vast cave in this dark room. I can’t tell time anymore. It simply stretches out without meaning. All I know is I want this man’s dick, and instinctively he knows it. He undoes my gag. We both know I want his cock in my mouth and he gives it to me, stroking my head, feeding it down my throat. He looks down the hallway and says quietly to me, “I'll tell you what. I think maybe Young John has passed his expiration date. I’m thinkin’ you might be a better 'Young John' than him. He's always been a little on the scrawny side, but he was always so dang cute. But he's getting older now, and he ain't as cute as he was, and he don't look like he's gonna fill out much more. The 'Young John' afore him was more your build. And you are right good eye candy and, ah, sweet Jesus, a mighty good cock sucker. All the way, boy, take it all the way down. Would you like that? Would you like to be my next 'Young John'?” I hear his words, but I can't piece together what he’s telling me. All I know is I just want to please him, take his cock down to his pubes. I mutter an uh-huh affirmation for him to keep feeding me his hard cock. "You gonna do everything I say, ain't ya? There's nothing you won't do. Ain't that right?" I nod within this dark cave of incomprehension. I hear Young John's footfalls trotting down the hall coming into the bedroom.

“Boy," he tells Young John, "fill that plunger half full and stick that up his ass. No, not so much. I don’t want him passing out, just enough to make him want his hole to be a bloody mess and beggin' me to knock him up with my dirty cum.” He looks me squarely in the eye. "Ain't that right, son?"

 

Edited April 7, 2017 by asslikker

[nkdnick]

great camnot wait for more thank you

[teachme]

Fuck yeah! Lets get the pig hole a gapin!

[TTFN]

Get that plunger going.

[breederslave]

A loaded syringe works wonders once the plunger is pushed in.

Woof!