Chapter 9
There was not a split second of hesitation before he leaned forward, bringing his entire body against Wade's in a moment of unbelievable horror. "Here comes thirteen inches of fat cock, bitch!" he laughed. And the prick went tearing into Wade like some instrument of torture, big and thick, battering him like, a rampaging bull, driven by the full power of the man's powerful body. Nothing could stand in its way.
"Oh, shit, Rod!" Wade shouted in panic. "Take it out! I can't stand it... please take that fucking cock out of me... it's tearing my ass apart! For Christ's sake... please!"
The big hairy arms were around him like clamps.
"You're gonna love it," Rod said. "Your ass is built just right for this, I can tell that already... and you want it more than anything in your life. Somebody's already made a good start on you. Hell, your ass has had a lot of cock shoved up it, don't think I can't tell that. But, bitch, before I'm through with you, you're gonna have the biggest, wasted, fucked-out asshole in the world. Bend over, faggot, and get fucked by a man!"
Wade knew that there was no point in struggle. He was trapped by the man's power, by his masculinity, his will -- and most of all by his sexuality. He knew it, and although part of his mind tried to fight against it, something in his body over which he seemed to have no control whatever screamed at him to say that it was true.
This was exactly what he wanted to be fucked like a worthless little bitch in heat, to be fucked by a man in every sense of the word, to be used for a man's lust to the point of satiation.
Rod's prick could have been tipped with a lance of steel judging from the way it felt up inside his body. Each forward thrust seemed to strike a new area of pain in Wade's bowels, and the movement of the whole shaft was a rasping, tearing assault on his sensations. The big, muscular man was tireless and at least ten minutes of brutal fucking went on before the level of pain began to decrease.
It continued to decrease, and then a new reaction took hold of Wade. Slowly, but ever so surely, he was being released from the torture; it was as though some miraculous medicine was being introduced into his body. The pain ebbed, dulled, and then turned into a riveting, heart-pounding, sensational pleasure. And gradually the pleasure built to intense heights.
Rod's ponderous cock was no longer a weapon of determined misery; like a magician's wand, it had transformed itself into a hard, warm, life-pulsating organ capable of creating marvels in the deep recesses of Wade's asshole. Wade found himself rearing back against each of the strokes, trying to draw even more of the engorged cock into him, trying to drain even more delight from the contact.
"Liking it, bitch?" Rod laughed, sensing the change.
"Oh, God, yes. Fuck me, you stud-horse... fuck the shit out of me!"
"Baby, you sure are asking for it, aren't you?" Rod groaned as he began to increase the fury of his thrusts.
"That's it," Wade cried. "Give it to me! Like that! And that! And that! Fuck me, fuck me, oh, fuck me!"
"I'm fucking you, you bitch. Just like I'm gonna fuck that snotty friend of yours. Yeah, how'd you like to see that? See your big hero being fucked in the ass by my big cock? Would you like that, bitch? One of these days I'm gonna throw Paul down on my bed over there and spread his legs wide. Yeah. You ought to be here to see it. I'll tear that asshole of his to shreds -- and I'll make him love it and beg for more like you're doing."
Wade's entire body was thrilling to the unimaginable change, and just as he was hoping it would never stop, Rod shouted out some wordless, guttural sounds and started to come. Once, twice, three times. Wade was counting the separate spurts of the man's semen, racing through Rod and through Wade at the same time and then out of the huge prick to erupt in Wade's battered asshole. Four, five, six, seven. Wade hoped they would stay joined like this forever. Eight, nine, ten. He had done this for Rod and he would show his appreciation, surely, by doing it again. Tonight, hopefully even tomorrow. Eleven. A pause. Twelve.
"Keep it in, Rod," Wade moaned. "God, I love the way that fucking dick feels up my ass. I wish I could keep it there forever. I belong with a dick in my ass, I love it, and I love being fucked by big-cocked studs like you, Rod. Keep it in... I want you to cold-cock me again; right now... fuck me until I can't stand up..."
Rod yanked his cock out of the boy in one brutal movement, a movement that was as swift and inconsiderate as his entrance had been. The pleasure Wade had been experiencing was cut off with an exclamation mark of sharp pain. And he was left clutching the bar, his stiff and untouched cock sticking against the wood, his pants and shorts down around his shoe tops, his ass sore and bruised. And his self-esteem at the same vanishing point it had been the night he'd arrived in town.
"Get out, you bitch," Rod said. "I'll fuck you again tomorrow night, maybe." And before Wade could, turn around, he had gone into the bathroom.
Wade was grateful that he had exited, anyway. At least he didn't stand there to watch him pulling at his clothing, looking and feeling so helpless and defeated. Wade finally got all his clothing on and started for Paul's place.
He was ashamed and humiliated, and he knew that he deserved nothing better than what he had just gotten.
"Any particular reason why you slept in the other bedroom?" Paul asked him when he came into the kitchen.
Wade had fixed lunch for both of them. Paul's tone of voice sounded merely curious, but Wade was still glad that he had a tan to cover the hot flush which was creeping up his neck and face.
He had, answers all prepared to deliver, but somehow he was just as shaken up as he would have been had Paul been awake and waiting for him when he'd gotten back from the bar last night.
"It was late," Wade finally, managed. "I didn't want to disturb your sleep. You said yourself you needed a good night's rest."
"I would never be disturbed by you getting into my bed," Paul smiled quickly. Then he added, "I just hoped you weren't pissed off by my not staying to hear more of your playing."
Wade had the oddest feeling that Paul was lying to him, or concealing something from him, for the first time since they had known one another. He wondered if somehow Paul knew what had happened between him and Rod? No, that wasn't possible. Not unless Rod was actually rotten enough to have called him at work. But why? To make Paul jealous? Of whom? Certainly not of Rod. It was quite clear that if Paul was interested in having sex with Rod, then all he had to do was to say so.
Did Rod think Paul would be jealous of Wade? He looked across the table at the handsome young man starting in on his bowl of salad. No, Paul didn't think of him that way. An intimate friend, perhaps. A desirable bed partner, for sure. But it was Paul who was always reminding him that he would eventually be going back to Rick in Los Angeles.
No, Paul's odd reaction must be a facade for some other emotion, perhaps some complication in his life which had nothing to do with him. Or maybe he was just hung-up horny because they had not had sex last night. Well, that was easily cured. He could be just as direct with Paul as Paul was with him.
"If that invitation to your bed still holds," Wade said, "I'd like to take you up on it right after lunch."
But this time it was Paul who looked at a loss for words. He looked away from Wade and bit at his lip.
"I can't this afternoon," he said, half mumbling. "I've got to go somewhere. I'll be back for dinner. Can we make it then?"
"I guess so. If you come back early enough. I have to be at the bar by eight."
"Well, look, Wade, if I don't show up by six, you go ahead and eat without me, okay?"
No, it wasn't all right. In fact, something was all wrong, and Wade felt a cold stab of fear run through him. He wanted to ask some questions, demand answers. But where did he come off thinking he could require Paul to tell him everything about himself? He had no hold on him, no emotional hold -- and obviously no sexual one either. Maybe they had simply been together for too long in such a short period of time and boredom was setting in.
Wade tried to think of something to talk about which would fill up the silence, but he could find nothing in his mind except a series of pictures of him and Paul making love, abruptly interspersed with a memory of last night, of Rod driving his ruthless cock in and out of his asshole.
"Are you going to the beach?" Paul finally asked, breaking the spell of emptiness. "It's a beautiful day."
"I don't know," Wade answered, trying not to look or sound disappointed. "I really ought to find a piano and do some practicing. I was stiff last night during the first couple of sets."
"You sounded top drawer to me. And to the rest of the guys, too." He paused. "Apparently Rod thought you were doing all right if you're going back again."
"Yes, he was happy about it. And he certainly pays well."
Paul nodded. "He's known for that. He'll spend as much as he has to when there is something he wants."
The statement had too many connotations for Wade not to feel embarrassed and awkward again. "I'll probably work there right through the rest of the week," Wade told Paul. "He said he'd like for me to stay even if Sammy does come back."
"I see." There was a moment of agonizing silence. And then Paul said it. "You went to bed with him, didn't you, Wade?"
"Yes," Wade said. Even the tan could not hide the color in his face this time.
Paul did not say anything. He simply rose and left the kitchen, left the house. It really didn't matter anymore, Wade knew.
Nothing really mattered. He and Paul would never have made it together, anyway.
He was playing the piano, and he was drunk. It was the first time he had ever gotten smashed while working, but that, too, did not matter. He had already told Rod that tonight would be his last night, that tomorrow he had to leave for Los Angeles. He had moved his suitcase into Rod's apartment upstairs, because, he did not want to face Paul again -- and he was certain Paul did not want to see him either.
It was just as well. Probably for the better. Hell, a guy like Paul would only spoil him for Rick when he went home. But a few sessions with Rod plowing his ass unmercifully would make Rick's actions seem like the ultimate in a give-and-take, well-balanced relationship.
And soon he would be getting that brutal, unfeeling fucking. The more he drank, the more he looked forward to it.
It was time he face the truth about himself at last.
It was what he wanted. Drunk, he knew it. Sober, he could only try to run from it.
About midnight, Rod told Henry to turn up all the lights in the big ceiling fixture and when he had everyone's attention, he announced that the place would close at twelve-thirty. He answered the groans and boos by giving all the patrons a drink on the house.
Wade played a long set and then at a signal from Rod, switched to "Goodnight Ladies", and had the bar empty and locked within five minutes.
When he got upstairs to Rod's apartment, he was surprised to be handed an envelope with his night's pay and to be told, "Come on, Wade, I'm taking you somewhere special." When he asked to know more about it, Rod only said, "You'll see when you get there," and gave his ass a brief, possessive feeling up.
His car was in a tiny garage situated behind the bar. It was a black Cadillac convertible, but he did not put the top down, saying that they would be at their destination too soon to take advantage of riding in the open air.
Even though he had known Rod such a short time, Wade could recognize the look on his face as one of sexual expectancy, and he felt, himself warming to the possibilities of what lay ahead. Maybe it was going to be a threesome, perhaps even four. Whatever, Wade was ready for it. He wanted to emerge himself in warm, hard, male bodies, in flesh, in uninhibited sex; he wanted to forget that he had ever met Paul.
The first shock came as they drove up to park before the hotel. Wade recognized it as the hotel where Paul worked.
"Who are we going to see?" Wade asked again, more insistently this time, giving away his apprehension.
"A couple of swinging tourists," Rod told him. "They came in the club one night. Believe me, you'll enjoy them."
They stopped in front of a door and Rod knocked. A few moments later a voice called, "Who is it?" and when Rod identified himself, there was only a moment's delay before the door opened. The room beyond was in darkness.
They stepped through and then a switch snapped and several lamps came on. Wade had to keep himself from gasping at the scene in the room.
There were at least a dozen guys there, ranging in age from their late teens to maybe thirty, thirty-one. Except for the variations in coloring and complexion from blonds to golden tans to olive-skinned brunettes, they all had several things in common: above-average looks, running to several extraordinarily handsome faces, excellent builds, including one body-builder who bordered on the incredulous, and a total absence of clothing. Only in a beach locker room or a YMCA pool had Wade seen so many males naked at one time. And horny.
They had come into the middle of a very active sex scene. When the lights had come on, even the most involved lovers had paused long enough for a look at the newcomers. Many of them went quickly back to the kissing, jerking, sucking they had been doing before Wade's arrival, and Wade's cock was as hard as most of those he could see.
Rod introduced him to the handsome, dark haired college jock who had answered the door, and right away Wade knew that this party was being thrown by the guys Paul had spoken of that afternoon.
"Wade, this is Tom."
As they shook hands, Rod began to strip his clothes off. Soon he was naked and Tom was fondling his prick.
"Don't be shy, Wade," Tom said. "Get undressed."
A dark shadow walked by and said, "I'll get you a drink. What'll it be?"
"I don't need a drink," Wade said. "I need..."
"Rod already told me what you need, Wade," Tom said then. "Come in the bedroom with me... I've been waiting to give it to you."
It was so abrupt, he could do nothing but obey. Tom stood behind him, his hands on his waist, propelling him through the dimly lit rooms to the bedroom. Someone handed them a joint on the way, someone else a popper.
His head swam with the dope, with the alcohol from the club. Tom was undressing him -- and Wade realized how big the boy was, how his pectorals bulged, noticed the deep ravine in his hairless chest.
"Ever been worked over by a hockey player?" Tom laughed.
Wade was too stoned to really understand what he was talking about.
"We go in for the rough stuff sometimes," Tom was telling him.
"Anything," Wade heard himself muttering. "Anything... Tom..."
Then he was naked and being pushed back onto the bed.
Only vaguely was he aware of the fact that some other people had entered the room, another of the college jocks with Rod. They stood near the bed and the stranger-friend of Tom's asked, "Is this the bitch you were talking about, Rod?"
"Yeah, that's him. Biggest asshole in the USA. I fucked the shit out of him just last night."
Wade writhed on the bed, aware that Tom was climbing up to straddle him. He looked groggily up, saw the magnificent body, reached for it with one weak, listless, uncertain hand.
"Me and my buddy Joe have something a little special planned out for you, cocksucker," Tom was saying down into Wade's face. "Little something we've been wanting to try out on some horny bitch like you for a long time. I'm betting that you'll love it."
The other jock, obviously Joe, joined in. "Give it to him, Tom. Cram it up his ass till he squeals like a stuck pig. I wanna hear him yell. Go on fuck the little sissy's ass off."
Wade felt one of Tom's fingers digging into his asshole. He relaxed, loving the feeling, and spread his legs wide to accommodate him. Wade closed his eyes and reveled in the sensations of the finger jabbing into his opening; his head writhed on the pillow and he did not even see when Tom reached over to a table nearby and picked up a gigantic and thickly lubricated dildo.
With one hand, eyes still closed, Wade was pulling at Tom's cock, feeling his hairy balls, anxious to get the meat inside him. The cock was not particularly long, but it was incredibly big around, and Wade loved thick pricks the best.
With his hand, Tom parted the flaccid buttocks and held the dildo into position. And before Wade could utter a word, he suddenly felt a jabbing, piercing object force the muscles of his asshole to yield. The tapered end of the dildo moved quickly up the tight channel.
"What is it?" Wade cried in genuine alarm. "What are you doing to me?"
The others in the room laughed. Both Joe and Rod had moved up to stand at the edge of the bed so that they had level, even sight of the boy's upraised legs and the well exposed asshole.
"I'm fucking you, cocksucker, what do you think?" Tom laughed. "I'm fucking you with a fifteen-inch dildo." Their sadistic laughter filled the room, drowning out Wade's feeble pleas and moans. "Rod says you've got the one asshole in town that can for sure take it," Tom said. "And I for one think he's right."
As he felt his asshole stretching to receive the thick shaft of the dildo, Wade suddenly dropped his hips down onto the bed, retreating from the unbearable pain. He yelled loudly as the sharp stinging waves spread through his bowels and stomach. But Tom was relentless in his effort. His hand held the dildo tightly as he drove it deeper and deeper into the dark crevice. And with one long, even stroke, he plunged it all the way to its base as Wade yelled and gripped his pillow to his face.
Joe laughed and brushed his long brown hair from his forehead as he climbed upon the bed and knelt on his haunches for a better look. His big cock was jutting out from between, his almost too-muscular thighs, and as he looked down at Wade's ravaged asshole, covered with a slimy mixture of shit, mood, mucus, and lubrication, he began to work his cock with his hand, jerking it off over Wade's stomach.
"How's it feel, bitch?" Rod asked, stroking his own gigantic cock.
Wade could not reply, could only lie there sighing and hoping there was no more to come. He was gorged and distended with the huge weapon; the hairy lips of his asshole gripped the base tightly.
Joe moved upward, across Wade's body, and then scooted himself forward until he was sitting in the boy's face. His hairy, sweaty, weighty prick dropped down into Wade's face, flopping against his cheekbones while the big balls covered his mouth. "How'd you like to eat some dick while you're getting those fifteen inches?" Joe leered down at him. "I bet you like getting fucked in the ass and the mouth at the same time, don't you, cocksucker?"
He took his prick into his hand and began to beat it roughly right in Wade's face, jerking himself off so that each time his hand moved to the tip of his cock, his fist struck Wade roughly against the chin.
"Lick my balls," Joe said. "Get those big hairy balls down your fucking throat before I choke you to death with 'em."
Wade obeyed, taking first one and then the other, licking them all over, nibbling at the wiry little hairs. The weight of the big bulky cock was tremendous and Wade, growing a bit more accustomed to the monstrosity rammed up his ass was beginning to enjoy the scene a little.
Tom reached for the base of the dildo with both hands. He pulled it out slightly in order to get a better grip. Then with a twisting motion, he turned on the vibrator. The only sound in the room was the steady buzz of the electric dildo and the sobs and moans of Wade's stunned pain.
"Rip the bitch open, Tommy boy!" Rod called loudly.
Wade was like, putty in their hands now, his body racked with a combination of excruciating pain and exhilarating pleasure. The vibrator stuck out of his asshole as he lay there before them with his legs stuck up in the air. Tom gripped the slippery base and began to move it slowly in and out, pumping the dildo deep into Wade's ass. His thighs quivered as he felt the ramming pole pushing and pulling and tearing at the tender walls of his ass.
And then Wade began to like it. The harder he sucked Joe's balls, the more absorbed he grew in the heavy, masculine body above him -- the smells of him, the feel of his hard body -- and consequently the more absorbed in the total experience he became. The vibrator tickled inside as much as it hurt. It really was, he decided, like a hard gigantic cock slamming in and out of him. He began to move with it. And it felt good inside him then, very good. It went so fucking far -- but there was sure room for it, many different men had seen to that, and now, in a way, in a very perverse and self-hating way, Wade found himself rather pleased to find that his asshole was big enough to take the giant-size vibrator prick.
He began to move in a slow, steady rhythm. Going slow, gave him a chance to savor the experience. "It's fantastic," he moaned, talking against one of Joe's hairy nuts. "Oh, it feels so good. You can go faster, Tom. Faster."
"Holy shit, the bitch loves it!" Tom laughed wildly.
"Give him some more of it then," Rod said. "Hell, ram the thing up him until you lose it in that big asshole!"
Joe began to beat off furiously into his face. And Wade could feel the deep sensation inside his asshole as the vibrator sent waves of thrilling pleasure throughout his body. His cock was responding in jerking spasms as he felt the dildo vibrating against the hard, throbbing gland inside his asshole. The shaft of the rapidly vibrating dildo lay directly against his prostate gland and it was sending him into a shuddering sexual ecstasy like he had never known before.
Tom, too, had begun to beat himself off, still between Wade's legs, holding the vibrator in with one hand and pounding his meat with the other. He continued to drive the machine ruthlessly in and out of Wade's ravaged asshole, and Wade had begun to respond by moving his hips to meet each thrust. His legs quivered and his toes were wiggling as they pointed toward the ceiling. His breathing was heavier now and his head was tossing from side to side as he felt himself being lifted to an unknown level, a height of passion he had never known existed. It was as if there were nothing else in the world, no head, no arms, no legs, no mind -- nothing but his throbbing cock and palpitating asshole and a pair of big hairy balls smothering his face. It was all that mattered.
"I'm coming!" Wade screamed. "Oh, shit, fuck, oh, I'm shooting... oh, you fuckers, here comes my load!" And the hot seed came erupting from his balls, shooting straight up into the air. A moment later his face was covered and smeared all over with Joe's come. It spurted into his hair, all over his forehead, some of it dripped into his mouth.
Tom continued fucking him with the vibrator until every drop of his seed was released. His ass continued to pump up and down, meeting the thrust of each stroke as the dildo buried itself deep inside his asshole. Then, as his cock suddenly fell down against his stomach and the last drops of come squirted out, Wade began to yell in a frantic, panting voice, "Take it out! Get it out! Oh, shit, get that fucking thing out of my asshole!"
The muscles of his ass constricted and held tightly onto the vibrator, which felt like a huge turd that wouldn't come out.
He was covered with sticky white cream. Tom released a huge load through the mushroom head of his thick cock, shooting it all over Wade's crotch. Rod had stepped up close enough to the bed to spill his load all over Wade's chest. And when they were all finished with him, Tom reached down and yanked the vibrator straight out of his ass as violently as Rod had jerked his cock out of him only the night before.
Joe moved away from his come-splattered face, rose. And with one hand he reached over, took. Wade's arm, and pulled him off the bed and onto the floor. Wade lay there between them, his head surrounded by six bare feet. There was a moment of silence, as if they were trying to decide what to do with him next.
"Please," Wade moaned. "Please... I've had enough... let me leave, let me get out of here... I just want to get out of here and never have to see any of you dirty bastards again as long as I live. Let me go!"
"Sure," Rod said. Then he laughed. "One last good-bye present," he said.
"No!" Wade cried, eyes turned upward, suddenly realizing, with genuine and total revulsion, what the man was going to do. "No! Please, Rod!"
Then he could only bury his face. The piss splattered down from Rod's huge, still semi-hard prick at first in a small trickle, and then in a large, stinging stream. The terrible smells intermingled all over his body with the piss; the yellow liquid ran over his back, down into his crotch, down his legs, mixing with the come.
Rod, without another word, walked away. Tom and Joe stood there laughing, amused to see the object of their contempt so degraded and debased.
Furiously, Wade sat up, grabbed the cover from the bed, and tried to clean himself with it. If he could just get clean enough to get his clothes on and get out of here, then everything would be all right. He didn't know where he would go tonight or what he would do, now or ever, but he had to get out of this terrible room where he had shamed himself beyond all justification for these strangers, these handsome, arrogant, masculine strangers.
"My clothes," he murmured. "Where are my clothes?"
An arm reached out, handed them to him. Wade looked up and was so startled that the mute, unseeing shock which had resulted from his panic disappeared; he was back in reality again.
Paul had come into the room. How long had he been there? Had he seen? What was he doing here?
Wade grabbed his clothes and, holding them against his naked body as if ashamed of his nudity, he turned away from Paul.
"Go away," he said. "I don't want you to be here."
"It's no great pleasure for me to be here," Paul said softly.
"I don't want you to see this... to know I..."
"To know what Rick has done to you?" Paul said in the same quiet voice. "I knew that all along, Wade. You told me. Remember?"
Wade turned to look at him, imploringly now. "Can I come back?" he asked. "Just for tonight?"
"I leave tomorrow... I'll go back to Rick... but just let me stay tonight, I've got to have somewhere to stay tonight. I... I don't know what else to do, Paul. I..."
"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," Paul said, helping him into his clothes. "It's all right. You can stay as long as you want, I told you that before. You should have believed me, Wade, trusted me... about a lot of things."
"Paul..."
"No more words, Wade. Not tonight. Come on, let's go home."