Last Known Address

[shoreboy]

2. Condemned

There’s nothing you and I won’t do
I’ll stop the world and melt with you

The warm night air felt good. No, a shit fuck better than that. The night felt like it was groping him, diddling with his brain as much as booty. It felt outrageous being naked on a rooftop on a hot summer night, his first night in New York, with the breeze drying his matted hair. The city lights were so foreign, many lit windows from high-rises off in the distant, like far off stars, like oil tankers out on a black sea. It made him feel he's in an alien world; he is. In alien skin; he is. Time felt fluid, running backward and forward, never fixed. He smelled piss drying on his skin. He licked it reminding himself it's Manetti's stench he's wearing. It's the only thing he's wearing, except his brother's wet jock around his neck. How fucked up is that?! His tightening skin reminds him of how it used to be when he came out of the ocean back home, the feeling of salt drying under a blazing sun. Tonight, though, a full moon beamed  overhead. As they clamored over embankments to the neighboring building, he's still rushing with the vulgarity of his thoughts. He’s not expressing them out loud anymore, but they're still running through his brain. He keeps coming back to a memory that a man just peed on him, that he's going to visit someone, naked, someone Manetti calls his ‘Master.’ He has no reference for what a Master is except for pictures in a magazine. It's part of an imaginary vocabulary. A Zeus figure or Mister Universe. More of a cartoon really. He's not really thinking though. His thoughts are like birds that have escaped their cage and flying lost in the air; freedom they’ve never had before and don’t know what to do with. Manetti leading him is the only thing that grounds him to earth. If he thinks at all it only happens in small bursts. Fragments. He's nervous. He sees his dick has shrunk. His balls feel cold and hide, shriveled up inside him. This moment he's nervous. The next he's more excited than nervous. He regarded Manetti' arms. He's still very horny. Manetti had enormous triceps that flexed under the full moon as he pulled himself over the half wall to the next building. Manetti reached out a hand and helped pull him up.

The moon had a glowing ring around it. During the last full moon he was looking at it from the rear window of an Impala, made a decision he wasn’t going back to school the next day. Now here he is naked on a rooftop, being led on a dog leash. Life’s so strange; it is.

Wait. There's a collar around his neck? When did that happened? Are there other things he's not remembering? The leash Manetti's holding is attached to his collar. That seems familiar now, part of the plan. Wait. What's the plan exactly? Another thought pops in his head while he's feeling the studs on his collar. He gathers some birds together to string out a sentence. Making sentences is hard and takes enormous effort. "This building,” he said in a hushed voice to Manetti, like someone was going to overhear them. “The one we're on. Sir. Walking on. Tink-tink." He shows him fingers like they're walking, like Manetti wouldn’t know what walking meant.

"Yes?" said Manetti. They're at the next building's rooftop hatch.

"The front door said 'condemned.' This one." Chris pointed downward. He closed his eyes. A picture formed from a few hours ago. Metal buttons. His brother's name on tape. He steps in a puddle, real time, right now, in his bare feet on the tar roof. He's back in the here and now. It's warm, the puddle. He thinks he’d like to sit down in it. A leash tugs him on. He’s never been on a leash before. He kind of likes it. He could see himself being a dog. Maybe a pet for Manetti and his brother. He’d sleep on the floor, he would. His mind is flying off. Wet shoes that squished. He remembered that. He was cold. When was that? "This building," he said to Manetti absently. "The front door and all the windows were boarded up. Like no one’s home."

"That's what Master wants people to think." Manetti popped open the hatch and pointed down the stairs. Chris looked in and descended into the darkness. 
It's quiet except for the creak of the stairs. Chris' heart raced. He relied heavily on the banister going down, but this feeling of nervous excitement, palpitations, it never leaves him, not since Manetti stuck the needle in his arm. When was that? Wet shoes. He's lost the thread. He's anxious to meet Manetti's Master. He’s curious what Manetti's Master could possibly look like. He gathered birds and released them to Manetti. "What's he like, Sir? Master Drax."

Moonlight poured from the skylight over the stairs onto their bare shoulders. He can’t see what’s in the shadows. Formless things. Nameless. It’s the drugs that make him imagine things that aren't there, he told himself, but he’s walking slower. Manetti had to keep nudging him forward so he doesn't bump into him. 

Manetti sensed Chris was having second thoughts. As they walked the long hall, Manetti told Chris the short version of Master Drax, owner of a stable of boys, all kinds, he and Ben among them. A defrocked priest from Eastern Europe, they all, the stable boys, think. He talked to him in a voice you'd use to corral a young colt you were breaking in, inching him closer to the only door down the corridor. "And he publishes magazines, vanilla ones and hard core ones, too. You said you liked them, the ones under Ben's bed," Manetti suggested.

"Do you think he know where my brother is?" Chris asked as they stopped at the door. 

Manetti put his hand on Chris' shoulder, as much a gesture calm him as well as making sure he wouldn't bolt. With the other hand he knocked. “I wouldn't ask him that tonight.”

"I like Magnum." said Chris. They heard someone unlatch the door. “I wonder where he is.”

"Maybe you can be in Magnum someday." The door opens and Chris jumps, backing into Manetti.

***

A very tall, very lanky black man, a bit older than Manetti, examined the two visitors at the door. The young, very white one, was being propped up by the one he knew as Manetti. The man wore only a harness, naked otherwise, and was shaved from head to toe including his eyebrows. A very long, dangling cock gripped by a metal ring had a leather strap running from his cock to his chest, then split out to each bony shoulder and ran down his back. His cheeks were hollow, and his mouth was agape, and each tooth filed to a sharp point. 

Manetti pushed Chris away, but Chris quickly took a step back again. "Hello, Jamal," Manetti said. "We're expected."

"Yes," the servant said, unfazed by the rudeness of scaredy-boy. "He is waiting in great room. This is the new one?" he asked in his faint island accent. Manetti nodded. Jamal appraised the kid with the wide blue eyes. There was a flicker of lust that brought out a grotesque smile. He then turned and led them down the hall.

Manetti stepped in front of Chris, annoyed, yanked him along by his leash. Chris whispered in his ear, “The guy’s teeth.”

Manetti quietly answered back, “Too many complaints about bad blow jobs so Master had all his teeth yanked out. Has to wear fake ones or nothing.”

Chris scanned the crumbling walls as they walked. Pornographic graffiti filled every inch. Men with large pompadours, sailors, woodsmen, with big tits, big butts, and bigger cocks getting fucked and fisted, and were either pissing or spewing cum. Chris whispered again to Manetti, "Like hieroglyphics. Dirty ones."

Manetti yanked his chain. "Stop talking."

The hallway ended in a large living room. A fireplace, too hot to be lit, was filled with candles. Standing candelabras were also scattered throughout the room. A few Klieg lights stood dark in corners. The room was covered in peeling red paint. Tin plates on the ceiling were broken in areas where water had seeped in. The floor had rotted out years back. Now warm, stale air seeped up through the cracks of the floorboards. Two old black leather wingback chairs faced each other on both sides of the fireplace, a tattered leather couch between them. Master Drax, sipping a glass goblet of some blood-red liquid, motioned for Manetti to take the opposite chair. Chris stood between them facing the fireplace not knowing where to look after the first shock of seeing Master Drax.

Manetti quickly spoke: "Kneel, boy. Eyes down." Chris knelt staring at the candles on the lip of the fireplace. What brief glance he’d gotten of the sitting man, was that he possessed the biggest cock he’d ever seen; it's played in his mind. Even Jamal’s ringed cock paled to the black clad figure.

"Michael, where is his cage?" Master Drax asked. "Put it on him." Manetti rose and went down on one knee to hook the chastity cage over Chris' genitals. He took Chris’ arms and placed them behind his back. Once the cage was locked, Manetti rose and handed the key to his Master. It was the first time Chris ever had his penis and balls shackled. The metal was cold and constricted tightly around him like a vice. If he felt helpless before, he now felt hopeless.

Chris tried to give the Master a fast sideways glance but only saw Jamal who stood behind him. He smirked his razor grin from the sidelines. 

"Has he at all been hard since you drugged him with, what, methamphetamine?" Chris looked down to see his cock was indeed shriveled to the size of a peanut inside the cage.

"Yes, Master Drax. He actually has a nice piece on him. So scrawny, he looks above average."

"Really?" Master Drax said in somewhat disbelief. "Tell me, Michael, exactly have you given him so far? A full account, if you would."

"Eight drops of GHB, which I shared a little with him to encourage him. His works had point two meth. And a Valium in case you wanted to fist him, Master. He also drank some chem piss but not much. He's a virgin, well, was as of two hours ago. I have to say he takes a good fuck, opened pretty quick after about an hour. His hole was loose when I shaved him, but probably it’s tight again."

Master Drax leaned forward and spoke, with a bit of a smile, conspiratorially to Chris. "Michael would make a good pimp for you, wouldn't he? You would do anything for him." Chris stared into the fireplace, not knowing what was expected of him. His right hand tightly clutched his left wrist behind his back. His unease made him dig his nails into his flesh. "Tell me: of all the enhancements Michael provided, what did you like best? You can speak. Look up at me."

Chris looked up. His earlier glimpse of the man registered as a big dicked scary old man, a man with glasses, black vest and crotchless chaps. And though he had sat far back in the chair, his huge uncut cock had hung over the seat of the wingback chair. That anaconda of a cock is what registered most and still does. Now that he was able to truly take him in, his initial fear was not diminished by what he’d seen, but now possibly built on it. Bald, random liver spots covered his head. Behind wire-rim glasses, rheumy eyes darted from his skeletal sockets. The glasses hooked around large ears, where black hairs jutted around the fleshy lobes. His stubbly beard couldn't hide severely sunken, ashy cheeks, and in his open mouth there were multiple missing teeth. His tongue slithered over chapped lips, and his jaw had the junky habit of gnawing from side to side that his mother had when she itched for a fix. He breathed heavily through his nose like Manetti did right after he slammed. That nose was narrow and hooked, hung with green mucus extending as he huffed in and out. 

He saw Chris was mesmerized, so as he removed his vest and touched himself in a manner that a whore might use to attract a timid client. With his vest removed, he ran his hand over large white breasts that hung down to a pair of engorged nipples, each one pierced with mammoth horseshoes of heavy silver metal. He fondled them noting Chris' reaction. A silver pentagram swung on a chain and rested between his sagging breasts. Tattoos adorned his torso and arms. The first image that caught Chris’ eye was of a large dragon, identical to the one Ben had draped over his shoulder with its accompanying tail covering the old man's pronounced rib cage. Words were inked up and down his arms, all in Latin, some spiraled around his forearm, others in bands around his shriveled biceps. Chris recognized some of them stored in a backlog from catechism: Deus, mortem, cazzo, satanas. Though he didn't know what the phrases said, they couldn't have translated to anything good. Mixed in with the words were inverted crosses, a triangle of sixes on his other shoulder, horned creatures fucking, a goat with an erection, a man hanging by his foot. Most of the ink was old, faded, blended into his shriveling skin. There was one exception. A somewhat newer one etched over his hard, distended belly: the same three-pronged biohazard symbol Manetti had. Below his belly he had a vast field of grey public hair. Beneath the translucent hair, a demon's mask, the long, slender tongue extending along the top of his manhood down to the tip where it hung off with an obscene amount of hanging foreskin. Within the wrinkled foreskin, thick yellow spooge formed and crusted. 

Master Drax inched closer to get a better look at Chris. He was still awaiting an answer. He propped his elbows on this knees to support himself, his hands folded monk-like before him. Chris glanced at the arms. They were heavily bruised with track marks and scabbed veins; one engorged artery still had a bead of bright red blood shimmering. He saw the boy starting at it. He extended his arm.

Before he could stop himself Chris licked the bead. “Very good, child,” the Master beamed. "You have proper instincts."

Chris felt himself sitting inside his head, detached somehow. He thought he would have been repelled, but oddly, examining him at such close range, as at the same time he was being inspected, he was strangely drawn to the man. Before this moment, if he'd come across him on the street, he might try to avoid him, cross the street. But being scrutinized so attentively by him in this moment, kneeling naked in front of him, he still had fear, some repulsion, yes, but he couldn't deny an undercurrent of desire. 
The Master immediately pick up on his thoughts, for as Chris gazed down at the demonic mask etched on his pubis, it was evident that an erection was beginning to form. The serpent tongue stirred within the overflowing foreskin, a monstrous snail emerging from its shell. Chris, too, was starting to become aroused the longer he took in man's strangeness. But for him the feeling of arrested movement reminded him painfully and clearly that his dicklet was going nowhere. He summoned the courage to look pleadingly at Master Drax, but he wasn't ready for the Master’s stare that entrapped him. Like a tiny mouse might freeze all functions when looked down on by a giant cobra, Chris froze. Didn’t move, didn’t blink, barely breathed. Master Drax's presence was formidable, a fact he felt deeper than anything he'd ever sensed inside. A bit of urine dripped from his cage that too quickly turned into a stream that fell through the floorboards, echoing floor after floor below. Master Drax gave out an asthmatic, rumbling laugh, coughed up phlegm, pointed to the boy’s mouth. Chris opened it slowly. Master Drax hurled his green phlegm directly into his mouth. He then pointed to the boy’s stomach. Chris blinked, then swallow nauseously.

And still the man held him in a awe. His dark eyebrows raised. There had been a question dangling, Chris at last remembered. Birds settling down on their perches. However far his control might extend, Master Drax was able to make him focus. He thought back to what the man had asked, what he'd like best, responded cautiously, "I guess I like the slam, Sir."

"It’s ’Master,’ boy," instructed Master Drax without malice. With slight satisfaction of the boy’s performance thus far, he sat back in the chair. The released tension in the room was a pronouncement of having done and said the right things.

Having felt he answered correctly, he sat with a bit straighter spine, and said, "Sorry, Master. I liked the slam best, definitely." He was almost confident, an emotion he rarely felt.

"And only a point two slam,” he said to the boy, shaking his head theatrically. “I don't know if I'd even feel that, Michael. We'll double that in a bit, maybe five, we'll see. Your name, child?"

Chris became alarmed. There followed an awkward silence, while Chris contemplated what a doubled slam, or possibly more, would do to him. He would be insane, would never survive. He was terrified at the prospect, slumped again a little. "Chris," volunteered Manetti, when it was obvious there wasn't an answer coming from the boy.
"Is that short for Christopher, child?"

Chris' mouth felt incredibly dry but managed to reply, "Christian, Master."

"Christian," he said savoring the word on his lips. "A Christian in our house, Jamal." He looked back at his servant who nodded approvingly. "We shouldn't change that a bit, should we, Michael?"

Chris had trouble looking at the Master after he proposed the double slam, one so close on the heels of his first. He worried the man saw his fear, read what he thought. To try to deflect, he darted his eyes around the room. Silhouettes against the walls outlined the shadow of a massive wooden slings, a Saint Andrews cross, a fuck bench—things he’d seen in Magnum but never imagined he’d encounter in real life—an examination table with stirrups raised high, a large wooden throne with a toilet seat cutout, and a three foot high cage with an expansive padded top. He spotted a video camera pointing out the window into an air shaft. Across the air shaft he recognized Manetti's studio. Master Drax, it was obvious, had been their audience.

"So besides slamming, Christian, what else did you like to do with Michael?" Master Drax played with the foreskin of his growing erection. Pulling back the skin, its head was pierced by a horseshoe P.A. that ended in two sharp points at either ends. He uncovers it to show Chris, then lets the skin fall back covering the jewelry. His erection was already the size of Chris’ forearm, from elbow to wrist. He couldn’t imagine it getting any bigger or how anyone could take being penetrated by it. Just looking at it wide eyed, obliterating any of his thoughts. He knew once again there’s a question, but words wouldn’t form in its monstrous presence. The two sharp points rose out of the foreskin as the beast begins to stand on its own.

"He takes a fuck real good," Manetti chimes in to help Chris out. "He took my..."

Before Manetti embellished, Chris spat out, "Eating ass. I like to eat ass." It was as if he were back in the confessional, compelled to empty his soul.

Manetti chuckled, adding, "Pretty dirty ass, too, Master. Not many guys like to get in there.”

"Yes," Master Drax said in a low voice. "Look, the child’s little bird is struggling in its cage. Confession frees the soul, but will not free your cock. You tiny prick is of no interest to me. Stand and turn around." Chris did as he was ordered. "Bend over. Spread your cheeks." Master Drax let out a groan. "Boy, didn’t you ever play with your hole? Boys come to me with their hole destroyed from massive toys. Yours looks like you've never touch it. How tight is he, Michael?"

"Tight as fuck, Master Drax. The booty bump helped, otherwise it would have taken hours."

"You were able to get in before the slam?" Manetti nodded. "Okay, kneel, boy. You, too, pig.” Both of them got to their knees. "I don't know how much this greasy pig has told you, but I own him and your brother. Depending on what happens between us tonight, I might own you, too. Do you think that you would like that, boy?"

"Yes, Sir…Master. I think so." Master Drax leaned over close. The nipple rings swung reflecting light off multiple candles, entrancing Chris, who had the compulsion to reach up and touch the man's chest. He managed, though, at least for a moment, to instead look the man in his face. But as the seconds ticked by his desires won out, and his gaze fell to the temptation of the distended nipples.

"You must always fall into temptation.” The boy looked up with a start. Master Drax went on, “Yes, your thoughts are easy for me to read. Your face is an open book. I will rewrite you. You like these tits? Go ahead, touch them." Chris tentatively reached up with both hands and squeezed the engorged nubs. "Would you like yours to look like these?" Chris found himself nodding. "It'll take work. We’ll start you with small nipple rings later tonight. But you’ll have to earn them. This pig here can tell you, I like grinding boys down with their darkest perversions. I like my boys hard, like I like their holes sloppy. Sit," he said to Manetti, punching him in his breast bone hard enough to make him fall backwards. "I require their holes be loose, extremely loose. Show Christian your pig hole, pig." Manetti lifted his legs, his hairy balls falling over his sizable cock, and spreads his ass cheeks for the boy to view. As he bore down he pulled his asslips apart. Soon Manetti's red rectum started exposing itself. "Push hard." Master Drax didn’t raise his voice, but his tone grew menacing: "Harder." The red rosebud pushed opened even further, protruding just outside the ring of his sphincter. Around the edges Manetti's asslips were lumps of dark red and purple ridges. 

Chris' bound erection was getting very extremely uncomfortable. At first a pearl of pre-cum appeared on the piss slit, Master Drax observed, but as the boy watched Manetti strain to flair out more of his rectum, puffing out into a full prolapse, more pearls appeared. Finally pre-cum began to drool from the boy's cage to wooden floor. Master Drax watched delighted. "Go on, touch it. We'll get yours like this too, eventually. Being so young, your ring will be smooth. It will be a glorious sight to behold, won't it Jamal?"
"Indeed, Master," Jamal responded, running his tongue over his teeth. 

Chris reached over and felt the flesh. Soft, incredibly soft. He'd never felt anything so soft. As he fingered it, Manetti let out an unconscious wail. "You want to taste it, don’t you? Go ahead. Kiss it. Kiss the inside of a man’s rectum." Chris couldn't believe he wanted to kiss it. He kissed it, and after looking at Master Drax who nodded at him, he licked it and pressed his mouth against the prolapse. He went farther, licking around each red pedals, sucking each fold splayed out before him. He pinched the ring of flesh, which made Manetti flinch, and without quite knowing why pinched it harder. Manetti cried out but had been trained not to resist. Chris searched for the center as he pulled the man’s hole further apart with his fingers. He stuck a finger inside and licked around the hole before sticking his tongue deep down inside the cavern. Manetti moaned ecstatically. Chris felt like he was coming into heat again for Manetti, but their roles felt reverse. He began chewing on the prolapse, and as he did his body temperature rose and a fine sheen of sweat glazed his body, a trickle of sweat ran down his ribs. Master Drax looked enormously pleased with the boy.

"Both of you, sit," commanded the Master. He sniffed the air. "Boy, is that you I smell? B.O. and piss?"

"Yes, Sir," Chris said proudly, sitting straight. "Sir pissed all over me before we came. I drank his piss too. Some went in my butt."

"The boy has been homeless for the last month and hasn't showered,” Manetti explained. He gave Chris a quick look of concern. He grew aware something was changing in Chris, that he was more enthusiastic than fearful.

"Excellent," Master Drax said reflexively. "Christian, do you know what limitations are?" Chris nodded. "What limitations do you think you have?"

Manetti protectively broke in quickly, "He doesn’t do scat or bestiality or..."

Master Drax interrupted softly, slowly, but emphatically, "Did I question you what Christian’s limitations are? Whom did I asked, Michael?" Manetti knew he'd have to pay for his outburst. 

"You asked Christian, Master,” Manetti said, lowering his head.

Chris' felt that he, at least, is in Master's good graces and wants to please him more. "No limits, Master Drax." He'd read that in one of Ben's nastier bondage magazines.

Realizing he doesn't exactly know what that means, he added tentatively, "At least that's what I'd like to be." Chris saw this made Master Drax reveal his jagged smile. Jamal nodded to Chris.

A split tongue like a lizard swept across Master Drax's lips as he contemplated how to start with this near-virgin boy. "Come here. Play with my nipples, child. Nothing gets me more stimulated quicker." He was in heaven. He reached up and felt the Master's chest. Sparse grey fur swirled around his nipples. The boy's hands glided over his drooping pecs. He then dared to slip a hand into the man’s hairy arm pits. He was energized, doing things unprompted he'd never thought to do. With his other hand he was pulling on his cage. There was something in the Master's gaze that egged on his libido. Almost guided him. He felt the wet body odor emanating from Master Drax's pits. He brought his fingers out and sniffed them, then put them in his mouth. "You have a real pig's tendencies, don't you boy? Manifest much earlier than your brother." He looked down at the boy's cage. "Those tendencies will be quite beneficial and financially rewarding for us both. I cater to a specialized clientele, or has Michael told you this? Some with, uh, exotic tastes. Let's free you for tonight and see where your tendencies might lead. Pig," he said to Manetti. "Get up and take his cage off and put it on you. You don't deserve an erection tonight.” Manetti rose and got the key on the table next to Master’s chair. “You don’t deserve this either, but I’ll permit you hold Christian while I rape him.” Manetti released the lock on Chris cage and his small penis started to quickly fill out. Though his own was still flaccid, he struggled to get the cage to capture his ample meat. Jamal added assistance, pinching and prodding until his balls fit inside. They struggled with metal cap to get it locked over the shaft. “Jamal,” Master Drax said to his servant. "Leave him. He'll attend to himself. Please be so kind as to prepare cocktails for these two."

"Very good, Master Drax," he replied, leaving Manetti to struggle getting his pecker in the stocks. “And one for Master?”

"Of course. Yes. Make them extra hearty, Jamal. Take it from the Czech inventory, not the Mexican. And mix in a bit of Ketamine with the boy’s dose. His hole will never accommodate otherwise." The Master picked up Chris leash and pointed Manetti to the large wooden sling. "In, pig. I want you to hold him as he struggles. He is too bound to you at this point. You will be an accomplice in his rape."

Manetti marched over to the sling, climbed in and put his legs through the straps. 

Master Drax came up behind Chris, knelt behind him, nudging his legs apart. He began fondled him intensely. His hands ran over the thin chest pulling him into himself. His enormous erect blade sliced up and down Chris’ crack, inched up the small of his back till it rested between his shoulder blades, illustrating how deep he would be penetrated. The wet foreskin left a small trace of slime as it climbed each vertebrae. The man felt all the indentations along the boy’s rib cage, pinched the small nipples, grabbed the boy’s erect dick and gave it a slap. His hand dove under his crotch weighing his dangling balls with one hand and feeling his tight, wet hole with the other.

It slowly dawned on Chris, far from molesting him for his own pleasure, Master Drax was more interested in assessing him as you would an animal you were about to purchase. Sure enough, the man turned the boy around, pulled down his eyelids, then pushed up his lips sticking a finger in his mouth to open his teeth. After examining inside his mouth, he slid in a second finger, then a third, finally all four and pushed them down Chris’ throat until the boy gagged and doubled over. “No. You will not gag. Open.” Four fingers again went into his mouth as far back as Master Drax’s fingers would reach. He wanted to retch but fought against it. He'd never felt anyone assess him over so thoroughly or felt so dehumanized. The glasses enlarged Master Drax's watery eyes and continued to drill into him, wordlessly inserting himself into him. He felt the man inside his head, rooting around, rummaging inside him for something; changing something here, reordering something there. Master Drax withdrew his slime-covered fingers and wearily got up. He plucked Chris’ dangling leash from the ground and gave a small tug on the chain. As Master Drax led him toward the sling, he said, "Point two, you said? A child’s portion. Are you ready for your first man-size slam? It'll open up worlds you've never imagined. Worlds that will swallow you whole. Where you'll be mine ever after. Are you willing to succumb completely to me so I can show you those worlds?"

Chris was extremely agitated, but he knew better than to contradict Master Drax, much less deny him what he knew he wanted. Instead he searched for a way to temper his fear and possibly backpedal a bit. "I'm pretty high now, Sir," Chris said uncertainly. "The first slam fucked me up good. I was saying things when I was rushing, I don't know if I really wanted to do all those things. Not really." 

Master Drax stopped short, looked at him with tired disappointment. "My fuckhole never says 'no'." Master Drax wasn't angry but he closely examined Chris’ face. "You want me to give you your first man-size slam? I'll ask it again, this one time only." Chris looked over at Manetti for some assurance. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

"Yes, Sir." Chris whispered. Then seeing Master Drax was still holding him in his gaze, he added firmly, "Please, yes Master Drax, slam me however much you want."

"And I will.” 

He finished leading his boy by the leash over to the heavy wooden sling. He unclipped the collar and let it drop noisily to the ground. “Climb up on pig. That’s correct, lie with your back on his belly. I want you to feel it while you observe it." Chris awkwardly climbed up on Manetti, with Manetti giving him a little hand to secure himself in the sling. Manetti's large, broad chest easily cradled Chris on top of him. He felt Manetti’s warm fur on his back, his hairy belly tickling his tailbone. He felt him breathing slowly beneath him. Manetti starting caressing him to get him to relax. Chris melted into him with every stroke of his large hand. He, in turn, began stroking Manetti's sides for comfort.
While Master Drax was taking off his chaps folding them on a table, Chris whispered to Manetti, “I didn’t mean to hurt you when I was playing with your hole.” His head tilted so he could see Manetti’s reflection in the mirror hanging above him.

“I feel your heart pounding away,” Manetti said to Chris in the reflection. “You can do this, Chief. Remember how it hurt at first but then it got better and you came to like it? Am I right or am I right?” Chris nodded with a bit of an embarrassed smile. “The K is going to help relax your hole. This will be more intense but it’s the same. I promise. I'll be here the whole time.”

Jamal came back with three prepared needles and a rubber tube on a tarnished silver tray as. Master Drax followed him over and wanted to know how much Jamal had allotted. Jamal held up four fingers. Chris held tightly to Manetti's side and took a deep breath.

Master Drax attended to Manetti first. Chris watched in the mirror as the needle emptied into him. Manetti coughed and he realized the man was burning up, from his chest down to his groin. He felt a wet sheen of sweat instantly coat his back. His breathing was insanely rapid. But what suddenly frightened Chris was Manetti saying, barely audible, "I can take it. I'm okay. I can take it." Over and over. If doing .4 was hard on Manetti, how was he going to bear it?

Master Drax said to Jamal who stood passively staring straight ahead, "I'll do myself, you do the boy."

"Very good, Master," replied Jamal, breaking into a small grin. He indicated the closest syringe on the tray was for Master. He then set the tray down on a side table.
Chris looked up into Jamal’s jaundiced eyes. He saw desire smoldering in them, something he would not act on unless invited. His sumptuous black skin glowed in the candlelight. There was sweat along his strong brow. He wondered if the man had tasted any of portions he had prepared. Jamal smiled at him displaying a mouth missing all its teeth. Blackened gums were now all he had in his open maw. Jamal took up the rubber tube and placed it around Chris' bicep. He felt his forearm and decided on a pronounced vein. Removing the orange cap of the last syringe, he held it at an angle to the vein. Chris noticed that the vial wasn't clear but cloudy with a touch of pink. Jamal peered directly into Chris's eyes, saying softly with his island lilt, "I make this special, an extra gift from me to you." He retracted the plunger enough to cause it to spill Chris' blood into the pink liquid, then pushed the swirling content into his vein. "I also up you to five." The servant pulled out the syringe, released the tourniquet, and held Chris’ arm up in the air. As Chris bucked within Manetti's strong grip, the servant turned Chris' arm out to licked the bead of blood where the needle had just been.
 

[FFun2BB]

 

 

1 hour ago, shoreboy said:

 

....The red rosebud pushed opened even further, protruding just outside the ring of his sphincter. Around the edges Manetti's asslips were lumps of dark red and purple ridges....

.....strain to flair out more of his rectum, puffing out into a full prolapse, .... reached over and felt the flesh. Soft, incredibly soft. He'd never felt anything so soft. As he fingered it, Manetti let out an unconscious wail.

"You want to taste it, don’t you? Go ahead. Kiss it. Kiss the inside of a man’s rectum." ... he wanted to kiss it. He kissed it, ... he licked it and pressed his mouth against the prolapse.

He went farther, licking around each red pedals, sucking each fold splayed out before him. He pinched the ring of flesh, which made Manetti flinch, and without quite knowing why pinched it harder. ... searched for the center as he pulled the man’s hole further apart with his fingers.

He stuck a finger inside and licked around the hole before sticking his tongue deep down inside the cavern...

 

 

#shoreboy   ... BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN ... WELL DONE ...

...mmmmm what a sight ... nothing is more exciting than a sloppy, gaping ass which opens up and produces a beautiful prolapse .... so delicious to taste it ... all those loads being bred into it and to be pushed back inside ...

 

#shoreboy only few have described it as beautiful as you just did !!!

KEEP WRITING !!! 

 

[deepfix]

Love the way this story is building, each chapter more exciting and detailed, please keep going

[Guest Deviantlad]

I can see this story going places that others have not yet gone. I do so fukkin hope so........so very extreme with no exclusions please 

[Fillitup57]

Fuck I want and need more. 

[shoreboy]

3. Hole

Fuck.

Fuck. A triangle

Fuck. A triangle of pleasure

Fuck. A triangle of pleasure spreads

Fuck. A triangle of pleasure spreads from his cock, balls, asshole, erupting outward, unrelenting, uncontrollable, to his entire body like an volcano exploding. Nothing could ever top this feeling sending him ablaze in molten heat and light. Fuck. The only thing that could ever top this feeling had to be death. Snuffed. Blackness. Oblivion. Because right now, mother fucker, at this single moment, he felt everything. Every fucking thing. He was Colossus. A Titan. God. The world channeled through him. Fuck yes. He was the eye of the needle; the eye of the beholder; the fuckin' cat five swirling eye of the hurricane. Nothing existed before this moment, nothing would after. He embodied the chord alpha and omega struck together throughout eternity jammed into one single note. Bam! Fuckin’ right here. Right now. Shit, man, it's a tsunami in here and he's riding this skinny little surfboard called Chris—it’s a thrill of a lifetime—and he's hanging on for dear fucking life!

Fuck. He's overboard! He lost where he was, who he was. He's swimming up for air. All he feels is a tongue in his hole and a gummy mouth sucking his shriveled dick. Hairy arms hold him and run their hands over mounds of flesh, his burning flesh. He grinds his ass over someone’s furry pubes. Fuck, dude, tell how good is that? He'll never be able to sustain how aroused he is, every synapse of ecstasy is firing simultaneously. He's sure someone’s saying something to him but he can’t comprehend, even less respond. All he can react to is touch, those that touch him, those he can touch. Other senses abandoned him. Hard flesh, leathery muscle, sagging flesh, sinewy muscle, all attached to him in some area of his body, but he can’t differentiate the sum of these sensations. 

Fuck. There’s an argument, then a suggestion. Slowly he’s regaining sight. The pictures he saw stuttered like a reel of film falling off its track, still he made out bits of a room that could be hell. Red flakes falling off walls. Metallic roof reflecting flames all around him. An orange object dangled in front of him. What the fuck was that? A tentacle? He thought of a carrot, albeit one that was extraordinarily long and extremely pliable. Fuck. It was going in his anus and going in deep.

Fuck. Voices emerged in the hellscape. Take it in—let it penetrate you. I've still got you. Long Beach Carl, his mother’s boyfriend was there. He's pushing the carrot into him. Oliver North was there as are a million cameras firing off strobe after strobe in his brain. Pop! Pop pop pop. He felt the object, initially so slender you hardly knew it was there until its mass grows with every inch it's inserted. The object passed through his rectum and entered his large intestine. It jus' pass through his second ring, said a Caribbean sounding voice. He's in a James Bond movie. He closes his eyes, he's tripping heavy, he knows he's not in a James Bond movie. Yet in his mind he imagines there's a race car that's tearing through a winding road in the Alps. He sees Sean Connery driving the winding road. His colon is a road, the object a vehicle that’s opening up his insides; every twist, tunnel and turn.

Boom. Fuck. Chris is back in his body trying to come to terms with an object he feels somewhere on the right side of his abdomen. He ran his hand down to the spot and definitely felt an object inside him. Someone, Manetti it must be, pulled his hand back over his head. There are two men, Jamal and Master Drax he recognized, conferring at his hole, pushing something, a malleable orange sex toy through his anal canal. "The last mile is always the most difficult," Master Drax said to Jamal. Jamal goes back to sucking Chris' peanut. It not only distracted, but felt indescribably soothing. "Are you still with us, child?" Master Drax asked Chris. Chris wanted to communicate that he was still with them, raise a thumb or something, but he can't. He's immobile. He blinked instead hoping that said something. Words won't come back for quite a while, except for one.

"Fu-u-u-u-ck," he yowls, forcefully arching his back.  

"I told you, Christian. New worlds. Hold him down. It doesn't give you pain. It's simple something you've never experienced."

There is nothing to compare this to. He's hornier than fuck. He imagined his colon is being invaded by the tentacle of an octopus. He vividly hallucinates Master Drax is holding an octopus and guiding it to slither deep and deeper into him. But the tentacle had hit an impasse. It refused to penetrate into the next chamber. It had a life of its own, the tentacle; it poked and prodded against an impenetrable wall, won't proceed no matter how much Chris or Master Drax want it to.

"The last foot is always the most revealing," Master Drax said to Chris, who could do nothing but look at him, and feel what was happening inside. "Jamal, get the amyl from the drawer." Jamal left the boy's dick and returned with a handful of capsules. He broke one and put it up to Chris nostrils. "Inhale it deeply, child."

The effect it had on him was to immediately knock his head off his body. More than freeing his gut to allow the sex toy to penetrate, was the attitude it instilled: lust overpowers everything. He wanted that orange tentacle further up his ass. Jesus Fucking Christ he did! And his lust made it so.

"F-u-u-u-u-ck." He feels it so intensely slip deeper inside. Two inches, three? It's a tickle that grows to a finger, which grows two feet in length to the size of a fist. The final girth is a medium size clenched fist. Master Drax has gotten the entire sex toy to press up against Chris' sphincter, but he's not satisfied. He bares down with his own fist to get his fist inside the boy too.

"Another one," he instructed Jamal, who already had another hit of amyl under Chris's nose. 

Chris doesn't say, ‘fuck.’ Instead out rasped a throaty animal sound, a squall of air reacting to muscles going beyond what they're meant for: to hold shit in. There was pain, undeniably, but there was a definite element of pleasure in the animal cry, too. A sound an animal might shriek when it was dying but more like when it gave birth. To Chris, it was a sound emanating from his guts, and the large object within him and the large fist, that even after it entered his hole still plunged deeper into his bowels. He started stammering mindlessly, "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," throwing his pelvis in the air, trying to get whatever's inside him outside him. This was where Manetti came in, holding him down, calming his colt.

"Shhh. You did it, Chief.” He brought the kid down to him. “Good boy, good job." And though Manetti was as high as he's been in quite a while, he knew how to ride these twenty foot waves to shore. "Breathe. Get used to it. Accept it.” Manetti ran his hand over Chris’ chest, tweaked his nipple lightly. “Breathe, buddy. Relax your hole around it. Now squeeze! Now relax. Do it again."

He's more a disembodied voice to Chris, but it was a familiar, disembodied voice, and it seemed to work. Though his hole was ready to explode again at any moment, and though the strain was more intense than anything he'd ever felt, he was over the agony of a few seconds ago. As he squeezed, then released, he was letting go of the panic and accepting the new sensation.

Master Drax's pulled his fist out. This set off on another round of spasms, this time dispelling, like a two foot long shit—which pretty accurately described how it felt—the orange two-foot long object inside him. What would usually take his body hours of wave-like contractions to expel, happened in two seconds, which left him with an amazing feeling. Besides having the relief of not having the object ripping and pulling every which way, he was left with a sense of profound emptiness, and one other feeling he didn’t expect: he wanted it back in again.

***

"Jamal, we need to capture this. Put two lights there and the camera there." Jamal went about setting up the shot. "Pig, let Christian up and bring over some grease. And take off that cage. I want you fluffed up when we shoot."

Manetti helped Chris out of the sling. "I don’t think he’s ready to take my paw. Let Jamal fist him. He can probably take that,” he said to Master Drax.

"Nonsense. Are to telling me how to conduct his affairs?" Master Drax handed Chris a bottle of poppers. "Use this right before we shoot."

"No, Master,” Manetti replied. “You always know best. I just think the kid should..."

"Enough. I determine what he 'should.' Jamal, are we ready?" Jamal nodded, and then helped Chris get into the sling.

"Chief, how you feelin'?" Manetti asked Chris, who was adjusting the leg straps.

"I feel great! That was mind-blowing. I am so fucking high." Manetti acknowledged he was too. Chris hadn't really considered that. Nothing seemed to exist beyond the skin of his body.

"Places." Master Drax was in his element. "Jamal, take the boom, I'll operate the hand held. Pig, I want you coming into the shot. Christian, you just stay where you are. Enjoy it and encourage Manetti however you'd like. Use the seduction you know you have—you have the hole everyone wants, own that—but make sure you don't fake it, make sure you really want it from Manetti. No BS. Let's see how you do."

"Yes, Master. Thank you for all of this."

Master Drax nodded his approval, and called, "Action:"

FADE IN:

ABANDONED BUILDING - NIGHT

There's a close-up of Chris' little puckered butthole. Its lips pout out like it's waiting for a kiss. It's not virginal anymore, but it's hardly gaped either. It lusts for something, someone. Manetti's broad back and hairy shoulders enter the frame and, yes, he's hard, very hard. You can tell there's chemistry, pun intended, between him and the boy. Let's not hide the fact they both look heavily drugged. He sits on a stool facing the boy's vulnerable hole. He puts a finger on its lip and pulls it down, testing its elasticity. The boy starts only slightly. He's excited yet there is an edge of fear in his face. We zoom in. His eyes are more than a little crazed with desire. The world weighs heavily on him, but he's young and resilient. It will take a lot to wear him down completely, and Manetti is more than capable of doing it. 

The man brings up two greased fingers and inserts them in the boy's velvet hole. They slide in easily. He coats the canal and bends down and brings up three fingers and more lube. The man's other hand is stroking his own rigid pole. He could nut at any point but he’ll hold off, at least for now. Three fingers easily slide into the boy's opening. The man shoves his three fingers up to where his pinky stops him from going further. He twists around the boy's hole, causing the boy to stir in pleasure. It's a very new sensation to him, and there's an exhilaration in his eyes that this man is going to penetrate his rectum with those enormous paws. He anticipates what it will feel like, how much it will hurt, but still grants there’s a deeper lust in him, a hedonistic impulse he's knows he's always had, that wants this man, wants this man in the most carnal of ways.

Four greased fingers come up to the boy's butt and slide in, this time not as easily. Manetti has to go slow, gathering his fingers together, twisting slowly, applying pressure ever so slowly, prying the kid's sphincter apart, easing it open. He still has the large ridge of his thumb to go and he doesn't want to rush Chris.

"Pick up the pace, pig. Let's get to it," says the director.

Manetti sees Chris is taking a hit of poppers. That should help. He greases his whole hand and swathes the boy's entire butt. He prods the hole with four fingers, then adds his thumb. It's all funneling down into this tight hole. He's fighting with Chris' sphincter, it's resisting the circumference of his palm. Manetti twists slowly one way then the other. "Take three hits in a row, boy," he instructs Chris. Chris has only had single hits up to now, and each one has left him spinning, but he listens to Manetti and takes three consecutive hits. 

He barely manages to replace the cap but his eyes signal he's ready. Manetti holds his hand out in place. Not only is the kid's hole relaxing, he’s pushing out his butt and on his own, starts swallowing Manetti hairy paw. He keeps jutting his ass out so it swallows Manetti’s thumb, clutching the entire appendage down to his wrist. He’s instinctively squeezing Manetti’s huge mitt into him, as the hand tapers to a wrist. The vice-like clamp slides Manetti fingers into the boy's soft internal flesh. He howls at his accomplishment. He's in ecstatic agony as his rectum comes to accept the large foreign object. A huge invader, the likes his internal organs have never known. Master Drax was large, but Manetti's huge.

Manetti rests his hand just where it is. He tells Chris to take another hit, which he does, and then starts slowly turning his hand inside the boy. They look into each other's eyes, and you can see the intensity of their communication transcends words. There is a microsecond of pain registering on Chris' face, and Manetti stops twisting, but begins again as soon as he sees Chris has accepted the sensation and now enjoys it. The tip of Manetti's middle finger is the first to touch a deeper area. He feels the rapid pulse of the boy in what feels like strings guarding a new chamber. He gently swirls the finger clockwise, then slowly traces the finger counterclockwise. Chris initiates a release of internal muscles that allow Manetti to add his index and ring finger deeper into Chris' canal. Manetti rotates slightly to allow his pinky and thumb to follow into the chamber. Chris inhales deeply as he senses where Manetti is in his body. It’s both an open invitation to go further, and a dawning realization of how far he ultimately wants Manetti to penetrate him. 

It’s just the two of them, eye to eye. Again he's in an enclosed confessional with Manetti. “You owned me," he admits, "ever since I met you. I can't resist you." He proves it, too, by sliding down deeper and impaling himself further onto Manetti's hand. You only have to look at the earnestness in his expression, his utter submission to the will of the man inside him, to see Manetti can do to him whatever he wants. Manetti knows that and will exploit it.

The splayed out fingers start balling into a fist. The fingertips scrape against the raw colon sending nerve cells into an explosion of sensation, firing round after round of alarm to Chris' brain. Chris trusts Manetti with his body. He breaths and quells the panic. There is a joy about him knowing Manetti now actually has his fist, his balled up fist, in his ass. The noun, fist, he sees, is why it's also a verb. Yes, he signals to Manetti. Yeah, do it, fist me, say his eyes. And Manetti starts, ever so slowly, pulling out then pushing in. It's building. You can see it in the boy's face. It's revving up to become a piston fuck, which is animating Chris' face: joy, pleasure, excitement, apprehension, and at last at a building rhythmic pace, lust; demonic lust for Manetti to do it harder. Manetti knows this. This isn't his first rodeo. He's a great Top and is proving again.

When you say 'handpuppet' this is what it means. Manetti twists Chris on his wrist. He's testing the boy constantly, seeing what he can take, seeing where he has to push him to accept his, Manetti's, will. Manetti knows the kid's body will reveal the course his hand will take and guide him along the way, but it's Manetti's confidence in his power that allows Chris to relinquish his. When the kid says he owns him, Manetti takes him at his word. He unfurls his fist, stretches his fingers deep into the kid's rectum, finds a new ring, swirls, charms, and enters his intestine. He straightens out the curve he finds, using his hand to reshape the boy under his care. He then almost pulls out, sphincter puckered to the extreme, then goes back in and rests just momentarily. He's traveled a great distance in those inches.

Chris is undulating with libidinous hunger, but calms down when Manetti rests. He syncs to Manetti’s mastery. The man's palm is holding his prostate, holding it like it's resting in a hammock. As he rocks it gently, Chris is in ecstasy as if Manetti is rocking his soul. But Manetti doesn’t simply the boy's soul. He’s looking for the point where Chris will give up everything. That’s the ultimate power he seeks. He's probing the boy again feeling all his organs till he finds the pressure point he's looking for. Manetti's other hand grabs the boy's erect cock and a spray of piss erupts out of him.

"Beautiful," says the director.

Manetti first directs it toward himself, lets it splash in his mouth, noisily slurping down a few gulps and spits some out, then he points the stream back at Chris. Chris is out of his mind with sensation he's perceiving inside his body with the awareness that his pissing uncontrollably in front of a group of strangers, and being recorded doing it, and he's finding pleasure in the lewd act of primal degradation. He doesn't care, and that is incredibly erotic. He lets out a spontaneous, "Oh, fuck, Sir," as the stream hits his face and he greets it open mouthed. Manetti has pulled his hand back into a fist and is tugging at the inside of the kid's sphincter. He lets it sit at the extreme point of the stretch, pushes back in as far as he can, then yanks the fist completely out.

Chris' hole flairs out with the camera capturing the red pedals of the freshly opened boyhole, the newly revealed flesh the world has never seen before. It's the first promise that a rosebud will bloom. Chris is convulsing wildly. Manetti stands, puts a hand on the kid's heaving chest, and with his other hand he's diddling, strumming his fingers against the boy's excited hole, doesn't want to lose the gape he fought for. Before Chris has a chance to come to his senses, Manetti's inserting three, and then four fingers back inside him. It tells Chris he's still open enough to keep fisting. Chris eyes him. Manetti has broken through something, for Chris says with clear intent, "Sir, destroy my pussy."

"You want me to destroy your pussy, boy?"

"Yes, Sir. I want you to give me a sloppy cunt."

"You got a nasty mouth, boy."

He sits back down on the stool, and there's a new lasciviousness that wasn't in Manetti before. He applies grease, a lot more grease, to his hand and some to his large hairy cock; black hair spotted with chunks of white Crisco. He also spreads some lube over his massive balls. He's back at the boy's hole with four fingers twisting around. His second hand joins the first with another swath of grease. They're sliding over each other and the rapid stimulation shows on the boy's face. He grabs for the poppers and takes a hit. His head releases back and he's now solely focused on his hole. He feels fingers sliding in and out. Pulling at his hole. Two fingers on each side pry him open, then three fingers on each side, then four. The hands pry his hole apart so hard they’re shaking. The inside of his hole feels like pudding, malleable flesh that submits to each stroke of Manetti's churning hands. One hand slips easily inside, then comes right out. The other hand disappears inside the kid's hole then reappears. Manetti's hand crunches into a fist and strains at Chris’ sphincter, trying to punch through. Chris leans his head forward and takes a couple more hits, and the fist punches in. The kid utters a loud moan. Manetti leans in, asks, "You okay, boy?"

Chris answers, "Punch my fuckin' pighole."

Manetti does, let's loose his fury. At first, one first in and out, then the other in and out. He's building up momentum until Chris is wailing in delirium. He pulls out a fist violently to watch the hole again flair open, this time much larger, almost the size of his palm. Chris' body shakes until Manetti puts a single finger on Chris gaping hole. He is in charge of that hole; he will tell it when it is allowed to have an orgasm. "Take more hits, boy."

Chris does, and with a head clouded with poppers, Manetti resumes his repetitive punching, but now, Chris grabs his legs and pulls them to his chest, pulling his ass cheeks apart, begging to be Manetti's hole. Manetti obliges, inserting a fist and goes deep, pulling out quickly, then inserting a second fist in as far as it will go. It's not as rapid, but it’s a much deeper punch. Chris is not only taking it but continuing to pull his legs apart farther. In fact, he's taking his right leg with both arms and falling to his left side in the sling, moaning like a whore pushing his boy pussy obscenely out of the sling for Manetti to pummel.

It's too much for Manetti seeing the boy in such a lewd pose. He needs to fuck this cunt right now, while he's in this state of abnormal delirium. He’s turned the kid into a whore and he’s the stud who gets the reward of fucking a possessed cunt! He grabs both of Chris' legs and pulls him forward in the sling. He stuffs his gaping hole with his cock, then pops one wiry ball in, then the other. He fucks him in short, staccato strokes.

Chris is in rapture and eggs Manetti on, squeezing as much of his loosened sphincter as he can. What he lacks in strength he makes up in how extended his pussy has become. With his entire rectum he surrounds Manetti's genitals in a gelatinous, gluey grip. He knows—he feels!—Manetti's hairy balls are scraping against his bowels. He experiences Manetti gyrating inside him, perceives a iron erection stirring his entrails. Wanting him to cum in him, spread his dirty cum in his raw hole, he begs and pleads aloud for Manetti to breed him, to knock him up. Manetti pulls out completely. His balls swing freely dripping lube and other viscous droppings. His engorged cock plops out and slaps Chris’ balls. The kid jumps. Manetti likes what he sees, so he slaps his balls again with a greasy hand. Instead of retreating, the kid pushes his balls up toward Manetti's chest. The man grabs the kid’s balls and twists them till the kid cries in agony. With his other greasy hand Manetti smacks his ass, then plays with the boy’s hole, lowering him down. He takes the hand that smacked the kid's ass and penetrates him with it. The kid gasps, but accepts the hand immediately, starts squirming on it, becomes ravished by it.

Manetti is in heat. He takes his dick and inserts it into the palm of the hand that’s inside Chris. It's far more girth then Chris has so far endured. You can see that in his strained face. But he's not rejecting it. His desire for Manetti overwhelms everything. He wants Manetti's to jerk off inside him, he encourages it with a slight rocking movement. When Manetti stops he realizes that Manetti wants to control his own hand job, so Chris completely submits, holds his legs apart so Manetti can do what he wants to him. Manetti observes the complete, utter subservience as does the camera. There's not much movement for you to see for a moment except in close-up of the hole. There's a rapid vibration only showing in the tendons of Manetti's wrist. He’s jerking his hand inside the hole. Manetti contorts his face as Chris watches in awe. He's getting close. Chris relaxes some muscles to encourage Manetti to use more of his insides to beat off. He's fisting his cock just as violently as he's fisting Chris' hole. The more Chris submits to Manetti's violet masturbation, the harder Chris realizes he's getting fisted. It's win-win. They're in perfect sync. Manetti is using long strokes to pleasure himself and Chris is writhing in pleasure. Manetti releases as Chris' eyes roll back in his head. Manetti's trained to show the money shot but he's locked into this moment of seeding this hole. He explodes, shoots deep into the bowels, sending his fist into the innermost depths. He pulls out very briefly to show cum leaking from his dick, but he's quick to get back inside, still jetting, smearing his dickhead around and around Chris' entrails. He squeezes every last drop out of his balls. He pinches his foreskin to not leave any semen behind.

There both stare at each other. Manetti drips sweat onto Chris, who's also shining in heat. Manetti has a look of relief of a man who has given everything and held nothing back; Chris looks beatific, fulfilled—a bride inseminated. Manetti looks in his wide blue eyes, raises an eyebrow, and floods his hole with piss. Chris looks surprised, and states astonished, "You’re whizzing in me." Manetti pulls out for a second, pisses all over him, then reinserts himself. He flashes his famous shark tooth smile. Chris sends an identical shark tooth grin right back.

"Cut," the director says.
 

[panjbtm]

Fucking awesome story!!  

[fisterm8]

love it...........more xx

[seattlebbbtm]

A veritable masterpiece 

[Fistcumslut]

Great! That's why I LOVE FF.

[jdsf88]

Fuck, keep it coming please!

[hundcunt]

Stunning writing and scene setting. Go DARK

[catchdawabbit]

you`ve absolutely blown my mind with this story ...... u have an awesome imagination and display serious writing skills in bringing the story so vividly to  life ....... these are not personally familiar experiences for me yet u almost made me wish they were ..... incredible job man

[Guest Somebody]

Great story so far . . . I wish I knew a Manetti.  I especially like the foreshadowing of more intense ball torture in the future for Chris.  Making a guy cum through ball torture alone is so hot!

[wonderfulwoof]

“You’re whizzing in me”

damn!,