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The Devil's Doorstep


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Chapter 1

I work for a non-profit which seeks to rehabilitate sex offenders in Indianapolis. My friends are always telling me how worried they are about me—I'm a few months over 18, but I'm pretty small and I could easily pass for younger if I wanted to. They don't want me to get "raped" like their past "victims" were. All that tells me is that they're uneducated. Most people I work with are public masturbators and public urinators, people who made one mistake that ends up defining their lives. People I want to help re-enter society and get their life back.

Earl is different.

My boss texts me the names, addresses, and offenses of the people we work with a little in advance: public information. That Friday afternoon, I got the text during math class. I was gonna meet a 46 year old man named Earl Jessup at his apartment on 14th St. He'd been in prison for 10 years, and looking at his convictions, I understood why. The less said about his offenses the better, but it was enough to make me nervous. I almost passed it up, but I didn't like the idea of letting a coworker get the case instead of me. Plus, it would only prove my friends right: I wasn't in danger, and I was gonna prove it to them. 

I pulled up outside his apartment around 3:45. I sat in my car for 5 minutes before deciding to suck it up and go. I was perfectly safe with a man like this... right? When I knocked on his door, I didn't get any response. I rang his doorbell and waited. Maybe he wasn't home? I was about to turn around when someone inside opened the door. He was big—really big. 6'4" and 225, at least. He was wearing a bathrobe he'd clearly just put on a few seconds ago.

"Fuck, you interrupted me. What do you want, boy?"

I looked up and down at him. The bottom of his cock, still half-hard, poked out of the bottom of his robe. Fuck—this guy was huge. An evil thought occurred to me—"what kind of ungrateful bastard would call the cops on this dick?" It was 3 inches longer and twice as thick as any cock I'd seen, even my boyfriend's. The pink head alone looked like it was the size of my fist. He was coated with precum. I could smell it from here.

"Eyes up here, honey. You gonna tell me what you're doing outside my apartment?"

Fuck, was I staring? I looked back up and made eye contact. 

"Sorry," I said. And I kinda was sorry—I felt guilty for looking at another man's cock and having thoughts like that. My boyfriend and I aren't open! I shouldn't have these feelings about any man, let alone a man straight out of prison.

"Are you Earl Jessup?"

"Yeah, and I'm not trying to go back to prison, so get to the point or run away, boy, because those tiny shorts are starting to make me real happy." It's true—I was kind of dressed like a slut. I didn't expect to get casework tonight. His dick was getting harder.

"You wouldn't go to jail, I'm 18." Why was that the first thing I said? Did I want this evil bastard to fuck me? Let me remember the script... "Um, and I work with a sex offender rehabilitation nonprofit serving the greater Indianapolis area. I've been assigned to you as a volunteer caseworker who can help you adjust to living in society and finding acceptance in a community."

"18, huh?" he said. "Well, I don't believe you, but get in here anyway." Did he hear any of what I said except that?

"Oh, I just uh- came by to introduce myself, that's all."

"I told you to get inside. Your job is to make me feel accepted, right?" Fuck. His dick was poking out of his robe. Did he get hard just looking at me? What is he thinking about doing to me?

"Okay... but I can't stay for long."

"Good boy." He put his hand on my shoulder and led me into his apartment. Fuck, he had such a strong grip, too. I took another look at the part of his stomach that was exposed by the robe.

"Is that a tattoo, sir?" I asked. I clearly got his interest.

"It is," he said. He spread his robe apart more to show me it in full.

"It looks like a biohazard symbol. What does it mean?"

"You'll see," he said. He took two glasses from the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Was he trying to get me drunk? I wanted to run away, but I knew my supervisor would be upset at me. My friends would probably make me quit, too, and I liked this opportunity. But the strongest reason I decided to stay was the primal, irresistible urge to see more of this older man's body. I wanted to indulge my intense desire to be in the presence of his throbbing cock. I didn't need to do anything with it, I just wanted to be near it. I needed to burn it into my memory to remind me what I'm missing out on with my pin-dick boyfriend. I made up my mind to stay, despite the risk.

"You'll see what it means real soon, boy." He was fully hard when he said that and a little pre-cum was dripping out of his throbbing cock.

 

To be continued

 

 

 

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Chapter 2

I was sitting across from Earl at his table, now. Part of me was sad that I couldn't see his cock anymore and the other part was relieved. I'm a professional performing an important community service, and I wasn't going to get distracted by something like that. I was talking to him more about what our non-profit offers, and the whole time I was trying not to think about what it would feel like to have a cock head that big in my ass. I could think about it tonight while my boyfriend "fucked" me—right now, I just had to give him our spiel and get the hell out.

"We believe that a single mistake should not define someone's life, and that you represent one of the most marginalized communities in the country. We offer community outreach, job education, and general quality of living assistance so that your transition into the outside world can be more pleasurable-pleasant. Sorry, I misspoke." 

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I just mean that... I don't know, that we're qualified to help you with stuff you need now that you're out of jail."

"I need to get my dick wet. Can you help with that?" 

Fuck. Earl even said it out loud! This wasn't the first time that I'd been hit on by a client—it sort of comes with the territory when you're a teen boy working with sex offenders for a living. It's so common that I even get offended when they don't flirt back. But Earl was being so open about it in a way that none of the others didn't dare. What do I say?

"Umm..." I couldn't deny how bad I wanted this. In a way, we both had power over each other. His power—that I knew he was already a disgusting rapist—made me afraid. My power—that I knew I could always claim I was raped, and enjoy this without worrying about getting caught—made me aroused. The combination made my heart beat as hard as I'd ever felt it. My tight, shaved asshole was literally throbbing. Fuck, I wanted to feel my hole get reshaped by the most immoral man I'd ever met. And what was up with that biohazard tattoo? It's not like he could seriously hurt me by fucking me, right?

I had to be professional. If he was gonna try to fuck me, he could try: if I consented, it wouldn't be as erotic anyway. I would be able to say truthfully that I was a good caseworker and I'd be able to enjoy being raped even more. But I was gonna at least pretend like I wasn't trying to get this evil motherfucker to breed me.

"No, I'm not allowed to help with that. I'm sorry, sir!"

"You don't have to help, babyboy. It's enough just looking at you. Twice as pretty as anyone I had in the joint. I'll take care of myself, if you don't mind." He spat in his palm and started stroking his huge dick slowly. His head was poking out from the table. Fuck... it took all the strength I had not to crawl under the table and glue my tongue to his balls. I could smell his musk from six feet away. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He smelled so good. I was in serious danger.

"Sir..."

"Keep calling me that. A lot of pretty cunts called me that when I was doing time. I wouldn't breed them if they didn't call me that."

"You didn't use condoms?"

"I never use condoms."

"Oh fuck..." I was way over my head. This evil fucking rapist was literally everything I've ever wanted in a sexual partner. I couldn't help but think that if he forced himself on me, I wouldn't fight back at all.

"Maybe you need sex education assistance?"

"Pointless. I'm gay and I'm not getting any cunt pregnant. As for STDs... let's just say I'm not worried."

He was looking right at me.

"Are you gonna drink that, babyboy? I'd be offended if you didn't."

He was right. My job is to help people, and that means earning their trust.

"Of course, sir." He stroked his huge, uncut cock faster when he heard me say that. I took the double shot in one gulp.

"Good boy," he said.

I felt funny. My ass felt loose and I felt my head feel warm and cloudy.

"This drink is really strong, sir..."

"That's because I put 10 mg of Ambien in it, boy. You aren't gonna remember a lick of this, but you're gonna love it."

Shit. Did this pervert really drug me? I felt the effects more and more but only felt more turned on. Oh god... what was about to happen to me?

"Come here, pretty young faggot." In what seemed like an instant, I was in his strong arms, being carried into the bedroom of his shabby apartment.

"You're about to find out why they gave Daddy 10 years." 

All I could do was stare at his fat, throbbing cock, and thank God (or Lucifer) that I was about to get raped by it.

TBC

(Thanks for the positive feedback, it's good to know other people are as degenerate as me 🙂)

 

 

 

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