Story archive is unavailable as of 8 September 2020
Story archive is unavailable as of 8 September 2020
Tyler blew the whistle, signaling the end of the Recreation class. At the “request” of Tim and Dennis and with Sean’s subsequent “encouragement,” he was dressed only in ultra-short shorts, which barely reached below the bottom curves of his ass. Sometimes the tip of his cock would peek out. He had been wearing this outfit to Rec class for the last few weeks, and the students had been enjoying the show, mostly when he had to bend down to pick up sports equipment. At first, he had been mortified and flushed red every time he caught some of his students staring at him, but after a while, he learned to ignore the attention or live with it. It might not have been so bad if he had been allowed to wear underwear and a shirt.
The class dispersed, and Tyler wandered into the office space set aside for the Rec instructors and began to prepare for Tim and Dennis’s inevitable visit. He had been fucking and sucking the both of them weekly since the first term. Closing the door behind him, Tyler walked quickly to his bag and pulled out a thermos. He did not want to be caught before he could drug himself with Gary’s mixture. He knew it made him act like a fag, but what else could he do? Sex without the drugs was painful and humiliating, but at least they took care of the pain.
Tyler opened the thermos and took a drink, grimacing at the taste. Beer! He hated beer. During the last couple of months, Gary had, for some reason, been varying the type of alcohol in which he mixed the drugs. At first, it had always been Scotch whisky, but lately, he had gone through vodka, gin, wine, and beer. Tyler had wanted to ask why but was too scared. Of his three tormentors, Gary was by far the scariest. Sean was a sadistic bitch and thoroughly enjoyed dominating Tyler, and Neil was constantly forcing him to have sex with him, but there was something weird about Gary. Something dangerous. It was best to do what he said and not ask questions.
He swallowed the beer and sat on the desk as the drugs began to take their desired effect. Slowly but inevitably, he felt the now familiar fog gradually envelop his brain, disassociating himself from his body. He felt the warm tingling begin in his groin and then spread steadily upwards into his chest. One more drink, and then he put the top back on the thermos; it was already over half empty, and he still had a session with the Schaefer brothers later that afternoon. Usually, he was not worried about running out, but it had been a busy day. Pat Saunders had fucked him up the ass in the woods out behind the playing field on the way to school that morning, and Neil had forced him to give him a blow job under a desk in the study hall over lunch. Neither had counted, just as Tim and Dennis would not, just as the Schaefers would not.
The feelings of arousal began to increase. Tyler looked over at the clock, impatient. What was keeping them? He would be late for the Schaefers if they didn’t come soon. An involuntary shudder of pleasure ran through his body at the thought of the two obese brothers. They were disgustingly fat and stupid, but they could sure fuck! Tyler hung his head in shame as he remembered his slutty behavior at their place last weekend, but he could not help it. Gary and his friends were still blackmailing him, and the drugs made it possible for him to carry out his orders. He could not help it if he were turning into a fuckhole, but the Schaefers...
Tyler glanced back up at the clock. Still no sign of the boys. He reached down, slid his shorts down, and began to stroke his fingers over his prick.
“Have you seen Tyler?”
Gary looked at his watch and smirked.
“It’s Friday,” he answered. “He should be taking care of his Rec class ‘students’ right about now.”
“Oh, right,” Sean nodded, feeling dumb. Tyler had been having afternoon fuck sessions with those two guys in his class for months. He would have to call him later.
“Well, how about Jason?” he asked. “I’ve got to confirm things for the football party next weekend. He has to make sure Paul is available.”
“I haven’t...oh, there he is.”
Gary pointed towards the far end of the hallway. Jason had just come around the corner, followed closely by Paul. The two boys were having an argument. Paul seemed to be almost in tears about something. A few seconds later, Jason said something and pointed toward the biology lab. Paul shook his head at first but complied a few moments later, entering the room. Jason followed, shutting the door behind him.
Sean started walking down the hall toward the room, but Gary grabbed his arm and steered him to a different door. “What are you doing?”
“There’s a storage room with a small window leading into the biology lab,” he explained. “We can get into it through here.” He led him across a different classroom and through a doorway in the rear.
“Let’s see what’s happening.”
Mr. Edgar wandered about, confused and lost in the seemingly endless maze of narrow hallways behind the school gymnasium. As a math teacher, he had found little reason to venture into this part of the school in the past, and he needed help locating Mr. Sprague, the football coach. The two teachers were in the course of their yearly argument regarding academic eligibility and certain football team members. This year, Sprague was particularly upset about the failure of his star receiver to pass Mr. Edgar’s remedial math course, which made life difficult for the entire faculty. Edgar was willing to compromise, but he had to find the football coach first.
The portly teacher came to a short hallway that ended in a closed door. It looked like an office. He ambled down it and, hoping to find someone to help him, pushed open the door. He poked his head into the room to look around, and his jaw dropped open with amazement. Sitting on the edge of the desk was Tyler Richards, the beautiful, blonde Tyler Richards who had done so well in his math class last term (highest marks ever!). The Tyler Richards that sat in the front row each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning, with his golden blonde hair and his angelic green eyes.
He was not looking quite so angelic now.
Tyler’s head was thrown back, his eyes closed, and his lips slightly parted as he masturbated. His shorts were around his ankles, exposing his naked crotch, and he was busily rubbing his left hand up and down over his prick. Mr. Edgar could see dripping out of the prick slit. As he watched, Tyler bunched three fingers together and slid them in and out of his asshole. His left hand was similarly occupied with tweaking and pulling on his nipples as his dripping prick swayed.
The shocked math teacher froze, paralyzed with indecision. What to do? Should he rush in and put a stop to this outrageous behavior? His mind said yes, but his rapidly stiffening cock argued otherwise. This situation could easily be misinterpreted; the wave of politically correct hysteria sweeping the schools could see him losing his position as a teacher at even the slightest hint of impropriety. Best not to go in, he decided. He could also leave quietly, ignoring the incident altogether. His timid nature preferred this course of action, but he could not draw himself away as he watched Tyler bring himself closer to an orgasm. What should he do? Best to slip away quietly, Mr. Edgar finally decided. He turned to leave, but he heard footsteps behind him moving closer just as he did. Sounded like students. Caught! Panicked, he looked around; there was nowhere to go except...
Tyler felt the pleasure from his masturbation begin to crest over into an orgasm when he heard a noise at the door. It must be Tim and Dennis. Despite his situation, he found himself welcoming their presence. He was so hot.
He opened his eyes. Ohmygod! It was Mr. Edgar, the math teacher. All feelings of arousal fled instantly as he froze in shock. What was he doing here? How long had he been watching? Had he seen...
Recovering the power of movement, Tyler quickly pulled his shorts up over his crotch and wiped his hand on his shorts to clear away the cock juices. He watched as Mr. Edgar hurriedly shut the door and moved uncertainly towards Tyler, his face flushed. He looked angry or something.
“M-Mr. Edgar,” he stammered, “I...I didn’t know tha-that….”
Moving slowly and quietly, Gary brought his face up the small window in the door between the biology lab class and the science storeroom. He peered through and gestured for Sean to join him at the window a few seconds later. Inside the biology lab, Jason and Paul were talking, maybe arguing. Paul stood on one side of the room with his arms crossed, looking away from Jason, leaning up against a lab table on the other. Gary and Sean could hear their voices but could not hear any words as the thick door effectively muffled them.
Paul sounded angry. From where they watched, the two observers could see tears in his eyes. The handsome brunette turned briefly to spit something out at Jason and then turned away again. Jason, on the other hand, was speaking slowly and soothingly; he seemed to be repeating himself over and over again.
“What’s going on?” Sean whispered. “What are they fighting about?”
Gary shrugged. “Something about boys, I think. Jason’s telling him not to do something.”
A few seconds later, Jason straightened up and walked across the room toward the older boy. Paul turned away, but Jason put his hand on the taller boy’s shoulder and slowly turned him around. Paul was crying, his eyes red and swollen. He dropped his hands to his sides and said one word. Gary could not hear it, but he understood well enough: “please.”
Jason slowly brought his hand up to the other boy’s cheek and brushed away a tear. Paul flinched but did not pull away. They stood like this for a few moments, Paul crying quietly and Jason tenderly running his fingers up and down the other boy’s cheek.
Then, slowly, Jason slipped his hand behind Paul’s head and brought his face down to meet his own in a kiss. The two boy’s lips met.
What was he going to do? If someone caught him in this position, he would surely lose his job. The math teacher cast around for something to say or do, but his tongue seemed frozen, thick, and useless in his mouth. All he could think of was the picture Tyler had presented a few moments ago as he had spied upon him masturbating. Now, Tyler was cringing away from him, eyes wide with fear.
Taking a deep breath, he gathered himself to speak. After all, he reasoned, he was the teacher here. He was not the one who had been caught doing something wrong. He had a responsibility! One of the younger students could have stumbled across the little fag rather than a mature adult such as himself! Tyler’s behavior merited expulsion, at the very least. This was a serious matter indeed. He opened his mouth to speak.
Tyler watched apprehensively as several expressions flitted across Edgar’s face. He was beet red and trembling, but Tyler could see that he was getting into a rage. He would open his mouth in a moment, and Tyler would be finished at Winchester.
“Mr. Richards,” the teacher said, at last, his voice choking slightly. “I’m afraid I have no…no choice but to report this incident to the principal.”
Tyler sagged back against the desk. That was it; he was screwed now. He almost burst into tears. To be caught now, after all this time.
“This sort of behavior is not tolerated on the school grounds or anywhere, for that matter. If someone else had walked in—”
Tyler looked up at the teacher as he continued to rant—the rumpled tweed suit, the thick grey mustache, the short, fat body. He glanced over at the thermos sitting on the desk, but there was no time for it. He had one chance.
“Mr. Edgar,” Tyler interrupted, slipping his cock and balls out from under his shorts and cupping them toward him. The teacher stopped talking and stared at him, eyes bulging.
“Do you like what you see?” Tyler’s voice was low and throaty as he tried to sound seductive.
Mr. Edgar could only stammer as he watched the beautiful teenage boy cup and massage his firm, young balls for him. Such beautiful balls! It had been so long! He felt drawn in as he straightened up and began walking toward him. His hands itched to reach out and touch.
Tyler’s confidence began to return as he watched the teacher’s reactions. The math teacher had stopped his attempts to speak and was staring intently as the boy massaged his balls, moving slowly toward him while talking in a soft, seductive voice.
“I bet you’d like to touch them,” he invited. “They’re yours if you like.” By this time, he was in front of him. He pushed his balls and cock upwards, offering them to him. ‘Please,’ he thought, ‘please take them.’
Slowly, Edgar’s hands reached up and took hold of the offered genitals. Tyler moved his hands away as Mr. Edgar began to knead them. Even though he felt no arousal (the previous effect of the drugs had fled), he forced himself to moan and writhe as though Mr. Edgar’s hands on his balls were getting him hot. Of course, nothing of the sort was happening, but Tyler could not let him know that. He was going to give him the fuck of his life! Tyler was fighting for his life at Winchester and would do anything to keep the teacher from reporting him. Without the drugs, the humiliation of the situation was almost overwhelming, but he could not give in to it.
Dennis grumbled angrily at his friend Tim as he ran across the empty gymnasium. If he had not wasted his time waiting for the jerk, he would be with Tyler now. As it was, Tim had not bothered to inform Dennis that he had a doctor’s appointment after class and could not make their weekly meeting with the faggot. Dennis would have to go on his own.
Dennis slowed to a walk as he entered the passageway which led to the instructor’s room. He saw as he approached that the door was open a crack. Dennis pushed it open and peered inside, hoping Tyler was still waiting. He had better be.
Tyler was there, all right, but he was not waiting. He was perched, straddling over Mr. Edgar (THE MATH TEACHER!) as he sat behind the desk. Tyler was facing outward, with his back towards the sweating teacher. He had an unobstructed view of Tyler as he propelled himself up and down: his flushed, vacant face; his hands, furiously mauling his exposed nipples, which were already red and splotchy from abuse; his long, sleek legs, alternately flexing and relaxing as they moved his sleek body up and down on the math teacher’s impaling cock.
He began to make small moaning sounds as he moved. A thin line of drool escaped between his pouty lips and glistened on his chin as he squirmed and wriggled in lustful abandonment. Beads of sweat...
“What’s going on?”
Dennis tore himself away from the activities in the small room and turned to see Ted Reed, a fellow student in the Rec class. Grinning broadly, Dennis put his fingers to his lips, gesturing the newcomer to put his eye up to the crack in the door. Ted did so and gasped with surprise.
Tyler seemed to be just mounting the crest of an intense orgasm. He stiffened up and leaned back, lifting his legs from the floor and bouncing energetically on the invading cock as it squelched in and out of his gobbling boy-pussy. Behind him, Mr. Edgar grabbed Tyler’s tits and held on tightly as Tyler thrashed and wriggled in pleasure. Moments later, Mr. Edgar shot his load straight into Tyler’s sopping boy-cunt.
“Christ!” Ted’s mouth hung open as he watched the action. He was frozen in the doorway as Tyler slipped off the exhausted teacher’s lap and slid to his knees in front of him. Brushing his blonde hair back from his face, he lowered his mouth over his now-flaccid cock and began sucking it clean. Mr. Edgar could only sit there and moan softly as the teenage faggot gently lapped his cock and balls. Then, the inevitable happened.
Unable to contain himself, Ted coughed. Tyler jerked his mouth away from the teacher’s cock, banging his head against the underside of the desk. Mr. Edgar sprang to his feet, surprisingly limber for a man of his bulk, and rushed out of the room, his face beet red and his pants still around his ankles. Ted saw him coming and stepped aside, but Dennis was bowled over as Mr. Edgar rushed down the hallway and out of sight.
The kiss lasted for a long time. When it finally broke, Paul was no longer crying but had a strange look. He stared at his blackmailer, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Staring back, Jason brought his other hand up and slipped it under Paul’s shirt and up to his tits. Paul tried to pull away, but Jason held him close. Jason began to massage Paul’s nipples under his shirt. The other boy began to tremble but did not protest.
Again, Jason drew Paul down for a kiss. This time, Gary thought he saw Paul part his lips in anticipation, but he could not be sure.
Tyler crouched on his knees, trying to remain silent as he hid under the desk. A thin trickle of sperm seeped out of his boy-cunt and began to run down his leg, but he ignored it. Who was it? What had they seen? Furiously, he tried to pull up his shorts. His heart almost stopped as he heard footsteps coming around the front of the desk. A face appeared: Dennis! Tyler trembled with relief; thank god it was someone who already knew about him.
He started to back out from under the desk, but Dennis gestured for him to remain where he was. What was going on? He froze again as another set of footsteps crossed the room. Tim? It must be...no, it was not. Another boy, Ted Reed, another of his students, sat down in the same chair Mr. Edgar had occupied a few moments earlier.
“Go ahead,” he heard Dennis say. “He loves to suck.”
Tyler flushed with anger. That asshole! He started to back out again but stopped as Ted pulled his rock-hard cock out of his pants. He stared at it; Ted was a student at Winchester; he counted against his quota.
“C’mon, cocksucker,” Dennis ordered. He bent down and slapped him hard on his exposed ass. “I promised my friend here a blowjob.”
Tyler gritted his teeth and tried vainly to recapture any vestige of the arousal he had been experiencing a few moments earlier with the math teacher, but nothing was left. The intense orgasm and the shock of being discovered seemed to have burned away the effects of the drug. He thought longingly of the thermos sitting on top of the desk; he had been lucky enough to get a swallow from it while Edgar had pulled down his pants, but it did not look like he was going to get the chance here.
“Tyler.” Dennis leaned over and looked at him from the front of the desk, “I don’t have to make any threats, do I?”
Groaning his disgust, Tyler leaned forward and slipped his delicate fingers around the boy’s cock. Tyler’s other hand went to his cock and began stroking, trying to get himself hot enough to tolerate what he would have to do.
Ted gasped and tensed up as Tyler’s pink tongue flicked out and began licking the head. Tyler slipped his experienced lips over Ted’s leaking cock and started to suck in earnest. This should not take him too long. Behind him, Dennis began to play with his ass. Once again, Tyler thought longingly about the thermos but knew he should save it for when he was with the Schaefers later that afternoon.
"Do you remember Peter Jenkins?” Gary asked.
Sean, skimming through the latest porn magazine, looked up from his position on the bed. Gary was sitting in front of his computer with an old Winchester school yearbook opened on his lap.
“Jenkins,” Gary repeated. “Peter Jenkins. He was in grade twelve when you were in grade nine.” He turned and handed over the old school yearbook, pointing to a picture. “That guy. He went out for Tyler’s sister for a little while, but Tyler made them break up. Said his sister was too good for him.”
“Oh...that’s right. Peter’s the one who got so drunk at prom that he vomited all over himself, and they had to throw him out.”
“That’s him.” Gary took back the yearbook and gazed at the picture. “He was fucked up over Tyler’s sister for months, a real basket case.”
Sean glanced back at his magazine for a moment but then turned back to his boyfriend. He must have something in mind, even if it took him a little while to get to it. Gary stared intently at the picture for a moment, saying nothing, and then went back to work on his computer. A little prodding may be necessary.
He hit the return button on his computer, saving some work. That done, he turned back to Sean.
“I heard he was working up in Point Hope.”
Sean waited silently for the other shoe to drop. It was not long in coming.
“I was just thinking,” he mused, gazing again at the yearbook, “that maybe we’re being a little greedy, keeping Tyler to ourselves up here in Winchester. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could get him back together with his sister’s high school flame, at least for one night?”
The game was over, and the players had since showered and left the building. Biff Talbot led his four friends into the now deserted locker room. Together, they made up the first-string offensive line of the Winchester Bulldogs, the football team at Winchester Academy. They were not picked as offensive linemen for their speed, dexterity, or intelligence. No, they occupied the position they did on the football team because of their size. The smallest of them, Billy “Little Bill” Paxter, was six-foot-two and weighed just over two hundred forty pounds. He received considerable ribbing from his teammates because of his size.
Being an offensive lineman, even a good one, was not a particularly glamorous position. It was pretty much all grunt work—down-in-the-trenches kind of stuff. The type of football that won games by attrition, not by spectacular solo efforts. Hence, all the attention, all the acclaim, and the girls went to the players in flashier positions like quarterbacks, wide receivers, and the like.
Grinning his big, stupid grin, Biff flipped open the door to one of the unutilized lockers at the end of the wall.
Tyler flinched at the sudden brightness. He had been crouched in the locker for almost three hours, ever since the end of the game when Barry Packard had hustled him into the locker room just as the final few moments expired on the clock. Barry had not been “using” him since early January when he started going steady with a girl, but he had not forgotten Tyler after Neil had “explained” a few things to him.
At first, Barry had been a little depressed to know that Tyler had only been having sex with him because he was being forced to do so. Then Barry got angry because the faggot would not give him the time of day unless he had to! At least he was seeing Heathyr now.
And, Barry thought philosophically, Tyler was such a cock whore these days that he did not want to fuck him anymore. Tyler was used goods. Who knew where his mouth and ass had been?
Nevertheless, although he might not want him anymore for himself, he could always do favors for his buddies. Tyler had not complained when he told him what he was to do, not that it would have done him any good. He had been quite prepared to “insist.” He had just stared down at the ground and nodded his head silently when he had told him what he was going to do; all five guys were “new meat” (Sean’s term), and he would get double points. Each fuck would bring him closer to the end of his ordeal.
“Get in,” Barry ordered, opening up a locker. “Hurry.”
Tyler hesitated slightly, the locker was small, but then he obeyed. Making sure he had a firm grip on the small flask (red wine this time), he wriggled ass first into the locker, facing outwards. His tight tiny red lace G-string, which exposed his bare boy-pussy to the open air, barely contained his constrained cock and balls. Barry, unable to resist, reached down and fondled it, slipping his middle finger into his hole and wiggling it around. Tyler had not yet ingested any of the wine and thus squirmed away. Barry did not notice. A few seconds later, Barry stepped back to take a look. Tyler was wedged backward into the locker, crouched on the heels of his feet, with his thighs splayed open.
‘Looking good,’ he thought. ‘Just one more.’
“Hold on,” he muttered, moving away from Tyler’s vision.
Tyler waited nervously. The game must be over by now. Any moment there would be...
“Here we are.” Barry had returned with a couple of dildos a foot long, “I know how hot you are,” he muttered, bending down. “I wouldn’t want you to get lonely down here while you wait.”
He reached under Tyler and slowly inserted one of the dildos into his asshole. Tyler squealed and tried to wriggle away, but it slid into his hole quickly until about eight inches were lost from view. Tyler wanted to push himself away but could only move up about four inches before his head hit the top of the locker; he was now effectively impaled on the dildo until he left the enclosed space.
Leering, Barry passed the other to him. “This is for your mouth. When my buddies open this locker, I expect you to be tonguing it like you sucked my cock a couple of months ago.”
Tyler looked up at him from where he crouched in the locker, his eyes watering with humiliation. “If not,” he continued, unrelenting, “I’ll have to complain to Sean.” He smirked at him. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
A tear trickled down Tyler’s cheek as he nodded.
“How about a demonstration?” Barry suggested.
Tyler hesitated momentarily but then brought the dildo to his mouth and began tonguing and licking it. He closed his eyes as he did so, trying to imagine that it was a real cock, and that he was anywhere but here.
Tyler’s eyes flew open, staring at him in panic. Barry was standing in front of him with a camera. He took another picture before lowering the camera. He laughed at Tyler’s predicament.
Tyler turned red but continued sucking hungrily at the dildo as he had been ordered. Still laughing, Barry moved forward and slammed shut the locker door.
Inside, Tyler pulled the dildo out of his mouth and reached for the thermos, wincing as the slight movement caused the unwelcome visitor in his hole to grind itself in a little further.
Tyler had remained in the cramped confines of the locker for the next three hours before Biff and the rest of the linemen arrived. It had been quite hot in the locker room, particularly as the boys were showering, and by the end of the three hours, his entire body was damp with sweat. His jock strap was soaked in pre-cum. His boy tits rock hard.
He had gone through most of the wine in the thermos, more from thirst than anything else, and he was almost unbearably horny. More than once during his stay in the locker, he had been tempted to burst out and grab one of the cocks that floated so temptingly across his limited field of vision (there were small ventilation slits in the front of the locker), but common sense—and a good dose of fear—had won out. There were over twenty boys in the locker room. And he still had some pride left. His fag activities were not yet common knowledge at Winchester, and he desperately wanted to keep it that way. He only had another fifteen or so guys to fuck.
So, in the end, Tyler settled for sliding up and down on the slippery dildo stuck in his boy-pussy. By doing so and wriggling around as much as he could, he managed to keep his boy clit drooling during the three hours as the boys of the unsuspecting football team showered and changed around him. Tyler was afraid that his moans would give him away at one point, but he could not stop himself from sliding up and down on the dildo. So instead, Tyler stuck the other dildo in his mouth and began to suck, thus muffling any noises he might have made. The three hours passed slowly.
Tyler Richards squinted up at the surprised football players from inside the locker. His jock strap was straining to hold his hard, erect cock. Tyler’s boy-pussy sucked hungrily at the dildo as he slid himself up and down. His hands clutched another dildo, Biff realized, and slid it suggestively in and out of his mouth, between his shiny, wet lips. Biff tore his eyes away from this incredible sight and turned to his equally stunned friends.
“Guys,” he chortled, “I give you Tyler Richards. He’s ours for the evening.”
They could not believe it. Tyler Richards—the Tyler Richards—who had been flaunting himself in front of them in the locker room these last three years; the Tyler Richards who had teased them for being faggots; the Tyler Richards who only went out with cheerleaders.
Bill moved forward first, reaching into the locker.
“Wait,” Biff told him. Barry had given him some instructions. “Just wait a second.”
Biff moved forward and looked down at Tyler. He looked back up at him, tears of humiliation burning in his large, green eyes. Biff reached down and gently removed the dildo Tyler had been sucking on. He moaned softly but did not resist as it slid from between his lips.
“Tyler,” he said quietly, “is there something you’d like to say?”
Despite what Barry told him, Biff still could not believe Tyler would say it. Once again, he was surprised.
“Fuck me,” Tyler moaned, eyes closing as he ground the dildo deeper into his itching asshole. “I need your cocks.”
This was enough for the guys, and they surged forward. Biff, however, held them back again. “What do you say?” he asked the desperate boy.
He looked at him for a moment but then glanced away, unable to meet his eyes.
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
Tyler looked up at him, lips parted.
“Please,” he said, his voice louder. “Please fuck me. I need you all; I ne-need your cocks in me. Please fuck me...ple-please shoot your cum into me. Please...”
And they did.
Friday afternoon. 3:45 PM. The school cafeteria was almost empty, as most of the students at Winchester had typically declined the opportunity to hang around the school after classes. The weekend beckoned, and with the beautiful late spring weather, the beach was exerting its almost magnetic pull on the teenagers of Winchester.
However, the cafeteria was partially occupied. Three students sat at a corner table, quietly talking. Gary, as usual, did most of the talking. May had been a good month, and he handed out the latest round of money from their website. Tyler had unwittingly exposed himself to thousands of men across the country, with more to come. It was only a matter of time before he found out when someone in Winchester discovered the website and spread the news, but they did not care. Their time with Tyler was nearly done anyway.
The main cafeteria door opened, and Jason walked in, followed closely by Paul. The two boys had spent more and more time together over the last six weeks as Jason tightened his hold on the older boy. Like Tyler, Paul was the victim of blackmail, and, as had been the case with Tyler, events had quickly moved beyond his control. Many events have deepened Jason’s hold on him since the cheating incident put him in this vulnerable position. All Paul could think of was the end of the school year and freedom. All Jason could think of was how nice it was to have such a cute boy as Paul as a sex toy and how hard it would be to give it up. If he gave him up...
“Wait here,” Jason ordered, moving towards his three friends in the corner.
Obediently, but not without a flash of anger, Paul sat down on a bench near the door.
“What’s up?” Jason asked as he approached. “Neil said you wanted to meet.”
“Just the final plans for tomorrow night,” Sean told him, “The football party.” He looked over at where Paul sat, staring at the floor. “Everything’s cool with him? Did he cause any problems?”
Jason plopped himself down beside Neil.
“No,” he answered. “No problem. We’ll be there.”
“Great,” Sean smiled. “I’ve got the perfect costume picked out; the guys are gonna love his.” Neil chuckled at this, but Jason only frowned.
“Listen,” he said tentatively, “he’s not gonna get...you know...hurt or anything like that?”
Neil laughed. “Just getting his brains fucked out. That’s all.”
“No,” Jason ignored him. “I mean, like, beaten, or...well...you know.”
“Huh, uh,” Sean shook his head. “Nothing like that. It’s just a party; the guys on the football team at WCN want to celebrate the end of the season with a big blowout. Tyler was such a big hit the last time that they want him back again.” Sean looked over at Gary, who did not react. “I also offered Paul to them since you said you wanted the money. They were willing to pay twice as much for two faggots” Jason looked undecided.
“There’s not a problem with that, is there?” Gary asked. Jason looked over at Gary, meeting his intense stare for a few moments and then looking away.
“No,” he answered finally. “I don’t want him hurt. That’s all.” The table fell silent for a few moments.
“Okay then,” Sean stated. “That’s settled. We’ll meet at my house at eight to get the guys dressed.”
“Yeah,” Jason told him, getting to his feet. “We’ll be there.” This said, he turned and walked away towards the waiting Paul. He walked straight past him and out the door. After glancing at the three teenagers in the corner, Paul scrambled to his feet and followed him out.
“What was that all about?” Neil muttered.
“Dunno.” Sean shrugged his shoulders.
Gary laughed. His two friends turned towards him. “It’s spring,” he explained, grinning.
“You know,” Gary insisted. “Spring. Birds and bees and that sort of thing.” His two friends stared at him with blank looks on their faces. Gary sighed. “I think our Jason is falling in love.”
When Peter Jenkins had called to invite him to a party up in Point Hope, Tyler had jumped at the opportunity. Peter was two years older than him and had been a senior at Winchester when Tyler was a sophomore. Peter had gone steady for about nine dates with Tyler’s sister, but she had dumped him for the football team’s captain at Tyler’s suggestion. After that, he had never really seen much of Peter. Tyler knew Peter did not get another girlfriend that year. However, Tyler never thought about it since, in his mind, the split-up had been entirely natural, and if it bothered Peter, he would have to grow up a bit, would he not?
Thus, he had not hesitated to accept his invitation when he called him up. He had moved to the nearby town of Point Hope after graduation, where he worked as a clerk in a department store. For Tyler, it represented the chance to escape his present situation, to go to a party with people who did not know him and would not force him to have sex with them. It sounded perfect.
He even bought a new green polo shirt for the occasion that matched his eyes perfectly. He made a mental note to take his hair out of the man bun. It was a look that used to drive the girls wild back when he could enjoy them. Now he had no time for girls since he was obliged to care for so many boys—not tonight, in any case. Tonight, he could be his old self. No one in Point Hope knew him or went to Winchester. It would be just like old times.
Peter showed up at 7:00 PM as planned. It was almost a two-hour drive to Point Hope, so he wanted to leave early. Tyler had been ready a good fifteen minutes before he arrived.
Peter had not changed much. Always relatively short, the last couple of years had seen his body fill out quite a bit until he was beginning to show a bit of pudginess. The clerking job at the department store did not involve much physical activity. Tyler felt himself sneering as he led him to his car, a battered Toyota Tercel. He was turning into a slob. What a schmuck! The way he looked now, he could not be getting too much attention from any girls.
The drive up the coast to Point Hope was not particularly scenic. The only nice part of the drive came just as they passed by the Point Hope Maximum Security Penitentiary and crested the rise leading down into the town. The view from the top of the hill was a little short of spectacular. Point Hope was a quiet town nestled against the beach below the sandstone cliffs.
Tyler, however, had seen it all before. Besides, he was having too much fun annoying Peter. The two-hour drive had been marked by small talk and long silences, but Tyler had quickly discovered that Peter was easily upset talking about his brief relationship with Tyler’s sister. He had flushed an angry red when Tyler had brought it up earlier in the trip and had, since then, shut up almost entirely. Tyler, however, was enjoying himself immensely. He made a point of bringing it up as often as possible and was in a great mood when they arrived at the party, and Peter was quiet and sullen.
Peter fought to remain patient as he led Tyler up the walk to the front door. He had received a phone call from a guy, some kid at Winchester, telling him about Tyler’s recent activities and his “weakness” for alcohol. The caller had suggested that Tyler would do anything once he had a couple of drinks and that ‘wouldn’t it be nice if he could get back at him for breaking him and Tyler’s sister apart.’ This had better be worth it!
Peter was unsure if he believed him, but it was worth trying. Tyler had been an incredible prick to him in high school, and any chance to get even was well worth attempting. Since the phone call, he had been experiencing this recurring fantasy.
Tyler quickly realized that he was overdressed for the party. Most of the guests seemed to be blue-collar workers from a local fish packing plant; most wore nothing fancier than jeans and tee shirts. Tyler was the only man there in khakis and a polo shirt. He was also the only one young enough to be in high school.
Peter immediately brought him a glass of punch. When he sipped at it, Tyler discovered it was a bit strong for his taste but not too bad. He took another, longer drink from the glass. The way things were shaping up at the party, a couple of drinks might be called for.
Coming to this party was beginning to look like a bad idea. A little alcohol never hurt anyone. When Tyler finished the drink, Peter brought him another one, and they stood talking while he downed it.
Tyler was asked to dance by a beautiful blond girl with big tits. At first, everything went well. The music was up-tempo, and the dancing was fun, despite his inappropriate dress. After a while, though, he began to feel a bit queasy. It must have been the punch. He realized suddenly it felt a little like...
A new song started—a slow song. Peter tapped the girl’s shoulder and cut in. Peter pulled him close into his chest. Instinctively, he draped his bare arms over Peter’s shoulders, and they began to dance, slowly revolving around the dance floor. As they danced, Tyler began to experience the now-familiar feeling of disassociation as the room started to spin. He closed his eyes and held onto Peter’s shoulders, trying to fight off the dizziness. The music and other noise in the room seemed to recede into the background. The drug! They had drugged him; Gary must have arranged this.
He felt the warm tingling begin in his groin. Panicked, Tyler tried to disentangle himself, but he could not. His limbs failed to respond correctly, and all he could do was hold onto his dance partner to keep himself from sinking to the floor. Each revolution spun Tyler’s perception until all Tyler was aware of in the room was Peter. There was nothing else, just a blur of sound and a solid object he could hang onto.
“Tyler.” A voice! His eyes opened, and he struggled to focus on the face in front of him. Peter? Everything else was a blur.
“Do you remember me going out with your sister in high school?”
Remember? Of course, he remembered. Tyler nodded in the affirmative, still trying to focus. Why was he asking? The tingle in his groin grew stronger.
“We went on nine dates,” Peter murmured to him. “Nine dates.”
Tyler felt one of Peter’s hands leave his shoulder, slide down the back of his shirt and latch onto his ass. He thought that he should make some objection, but...
“And all I got was one kiss,” the voice continued. “One kiss.”
The blonde teenager tried to focus on what Peter was saying, but the hand on his butt was making concentration difficult. He felt the hand pull away and begin pulling the zipper of his pants down. He tried to wriggle free, but his arms remained wrapped around Peter’s shoulders.
“One fucking kiss. I don’t think that’s fair. Do you?”
Tyler discovered that he could speak, although his voice seemed distant. His zipper was down, and he could feel the room's cool air on his cock and balls. Gary still did not allow him to wear any underwear. The feelings of arousal increased, spreading up from his crotch into his belly. Involuntarily, he ground his lower body against Peter as the dance continued.
“So,” Peter continued, “we’re going to work through those dates now. All nine of them, as they should have been with your sister.”
Tyler tried to shake his head no. Not here; he wanted him to take him to a bedroom or something, not here in front of...
“First date,” he whispered as his tongue licked out at his ear. “A kiss would have been nice.” Retreating from his ear, he pressed his lips against Tyler’s mouth. He moaned softly, parting his lips, but he quickly pulled away. That felt so good, but not here. Please, not here.
“Second date,” he continued. “Maybe some tongue.” This time, he thrust his tongue into Tyler’s willing mouth. He kissed back, unable to do anything else as a wave of lust surged through his body. Oh god... The kiss broke, but the dance continued.
The dance continued through the “third date,” where he tweaked Tyler’s boy tits through the fabric of his shirt. His nipples hardened immediately.
On the “fourth date,” Peter removed the shirt, sliding it over Tyler’s head, and pulled on Tyler’s hard nipples.
More of the same on the fifth date. Some heavy necking while mauling at Tyler’s naked boy tits. By now, he was panting with lust, all thinking of where and whom he was, having fled his mind. All that mattered was...
He could not remember what Peter said about the sixth date, but he unfastened Tyler’s pants on the seventh date, and they fell to his ankles. His ass was now exposed, his crotch grinding into Peter’s with abandon.
“Eighth date,” Peter panted, hoarse. “It’s time you felt my cock.” Tyler didn’t need to be told twice. Groaning lustfully, he disentangled one arm around Peter’s neck and reached down to Peter’s crotch. With an ease born of much practice, Tyler pulled down the zipper and slid the enormous cock free. It was already leaking and rigid.
“Ninth date,” Peter gasped. “You need to be fucked.” He looked at Tyler. “Beg for it.”
“Please fuck me. I need to be fucked. Please put your big cock into me, Peter. Fill me up. Please.”
Peter could take no more. He had been dreaming of this moment for over two years. With a cry, Peter shoved Tyler to the floor, pulled his legs up, and shoved his cock straight into his boy-pussy. Holding onto his shoulders, Tyler wrapped both legs around Peter’s ass and fucked him right back as he drove him again and again against the floor. Tyler drooled and slobbered and squirmed out his lust, all the time moaning and crying for him to fuck him harder. Peter obliged.
The last trembling vestige of orgasm rippled through his beaten body. Groggy, he looked up from the floor where he sat, propped against the wall. Just as he did so, a flash went off and then another. Dazed, the blonde teenager looked around. He was lying naked against the wall. A group of people was standing around, looking down at him and laughing. A few of them had cameras and were using them. He heard the words “faggot,” “dick ditch,” and “cumdump” coming up in conversation. Were they talking about him?
Just as had happened before, the orgasm seemed to have burned away the effects of the drugs, leaving Tyler clear-headed and sober. Sobbing with embarrassment, he stumbled to his feet, cock bobbing merrily as the crowd laughed. Another flash went off. Eyes downward, he pushed his way through the crowd, looking for...
“Peter!” He was standing with a couple of guys near the entrance to the kitchen, drinking a beer. “What...what are you...”
Peter looked over at Tyler and smirked. “I’d heard that you had become quite the faggot since my days at Winchester. I just wanted to see if it was true.”
Tyler stopped talking and began to cry. Yet another flash went off.
“Stop it,” he cried, spinning around to strike out at whoever took the picture. The blow missed. However, two photos were taken of his exposed cock and balls.
Furious, he turned back to Peter. “Take me home,” he ordered. “Now.”
Peter just laughed. “Are you kidding? Get home yourself, you faggot.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Take this,” he said, handing it to him. “There’s a bus depot just down the block. There are buses to Winchester every couple of hours.”
Stunned, he held the ten-dollar bill, staring at him. Eventually, he turned and stumbled through the laughing crowd to the door, struggling to pick up his clothes.
“And Tyler,” Peter called out from behind him. He turned; maybe he would give him a ride after all. “You were worth every penny.”
The crowd roared with laughter as Tyler, tears running down his face, ran naked out into the cool night air. He struggled into his pants and shirt as he ran down the street
yler recognized the house. He had been there once before, the night of the “party” he had attended. The party with the guys from WCN. He blushed furiously as he remembered what he could of the events of that night; the sight of the house brought them flooding back over him in a wave of shame.
Tyler looked at Paul sitting beside him. Paul glared back at him. Ever since what had happened last January—when Tyler had done his part to render Paul vulnerable to the blackmail—Paul had refused to have anything to do with Tyler. Tyler did not blame him. He just wanted the boy to drink the alcohol to prepare himself.
He did not know yet. He did not know what was going to happen inside the house. Perhaps that was why he was so reluctant to drink when Sean handed them the thermos. This time, it contained a wine cooler. Tyler had sucked hungrily at the alcohol. He had a pretty good idea of what would be expected of them that night and knew he would need all the help he could get from Gary’s drugs. Not really understanding what was happening, Paul took a couple of sips when Tyler handed it over, but it had to be ordered by Sean before Paul would drink anymore. Jason was also in the front seat beside Sean in the car, but he was strangely quiet. He just sat there in silence, staring straight ahead out the front window.
“Okay,” Sean spoke brightly, “let’s go.”
He opened his door and slid out of the car. Tyler and Paul followed suit, but Jason remained where he was. Sean bent down and looked at him.
“You sure you don’t want to come in?” he asked. “It’ll be fun.”
Jason shook his head and looked away. Sean just shrugged his shoulders and closed the door. Gesturing for the two boys to follow him, he began walking up towards the house.
The WCN Barracudas had just finished a winning season, and the guys were ready to party. The large living room had been specially arranged for the party. Most of the furniture had been moved out, leaving only an oversized yellow couch in the center of the space. Instead of the tables, chairs, and other bits of furniture that had been there a few months ago, the boys had laid out a bunch of bare mattresses. They were crowded around the oversized couch, all forty college dudes with beers in hand, waiting for the big entrance. Sean smirked at them as he stood by the door. Perfect. Time to get the show on the road.
“Gentlemen,” he called out theatrically over the catcalls and hooting, “I give you your entertainment for the evening. May I present...” He swung open the door. “Cumslut, whom some of you know from before.”
Tyler (Cumslut) entered the room. He wore his short, black leather shorts and bright pink tank top. His hair was combed out, flowing down over his bare shoulders in a blonde wave. Following Sean’s instructions, he tried to force a smile and look sexy as he entered the room, but it was not easy. Thankfully, the drug was starting to have its customary effect on him, and he began to feel the familiar, welcome tingle in his crotch.
“And Melons.” Paul (Melons) followed close behind, wearing even less than Tyler. All he had on was a pink thong, the head of his cock visible above the band. His ass, always his most prominent feature, jutted out magnificently like ripe melons. Paul also tried to smile and look sexy but could not manage anything other than an alarming grimace. He was feeling nothing from the alcohol they had been given to drink. There was no comfortable disassociation or warm tingling in his balls. Just fear. With a cheer of approval, the members of the WCN Barracudas surged forward to begin their party.
It had been a good season for Terry Brooks. A freshman at WCN, he had quickly found a place on the first string of the Barracudas and acceptance at the almost all-white school. Terry, a tall, wiry black boy from Oregon, had been expecting things to be difficult at WCN, but that had not been the case. Everything had come together nicely. First, a place on the team, then a winning season with him as the star receiver, and now some prime white teenage boy-pussy. The kind of thing he could only dream of at home. God, he loved California! Utilizing the speed that had made him a star on the football field, he was the first to reach Cumslut. He liked them blonde—young, blonde, and horny.
Terry threw his arm around Tyler and crushed his lips to his. Tyler responded almost immediately, his tongue welcoming Terry’s into the wet confines of his mouth. While they kissed, Terry slipped his other hand into Tyler’s shorts and between his ass cheeks. He was not wearing any underwear. Terry slid his finger into the pussy boy, who moaned into his mouth as they kissed. What a fag!
Unable to hold himself back, Terry pushed Tyler backward onto a mattress. He fell back, legs spread invitingly. Terry fumbled at his zipper until his cock hung free. It was hard and ready for action. Cumslut gasped as Tyler fell onto him and jammed his cock entirely into his boy-cunt with one powerful surge of his hips. Tyler immediately pumped against him, trying to suck it in even further.
Tyler felt the orgasm hit just as the black guy came. The feel of his warm sperm boiling out into his boy-pussy sent him over the edge into a rising wave of pleasure that overwhelmed all other considerations. All thoughts of shame, humiliation, or pain were washed away in the screaming, writhing, crushing surge of ecstasy which slammed through his body. Gasping and writhing, Tyler screamed his pleasure until he crested the top and began to settle back down. With a strange look on his face, the black guy pulled out of him and pushed himself to his feet.
“Fucking hell,” he called over his shoulder as he backed away, “he’s a hot bitch.”
In the back of his mind, Tyler realized he should be feeling something at this but could not remember what it was. All he knew right now was that he needed some more cock. Now! The guys were more than obliging. Almost immediately, he was dragged onto his hands and knees, and a cock stuck into his sopping boy-pussy. He ground his tight ass back to meet the impaling thrusts of the guy fucking him.
Another cock appeared in front of his face. Instinctively, he grabbed at it and began sucking.
Sean laughed as he watched Tyler writhe on the floor under the black guy. He was observing the event through the viewfinder of his father’s camcorder. The guys at WCN had been a little hesitant at his filming their party, but when he offered them the faggots at half price, they had quickly agreed. Sean had also assured them that the video was only for personal use. And, of course, he had promised them a copy. He continued to film as Tyler’s moans and cries got louder and more passionate.
Finally, Tyler writhed and screamed through the biggest orgasm Sean had ever seen, spraying cum all over the place, all captured for posterity.
Paul turned and tried to run as the guys from the football team surged towards him, but he stumbled against a wall and was quickly caught. The football player who grabbed him was a lineman of some sort. He was well over six feet tall and weighed close to 300 pounds. He spun the boy around to face him and began to paw at his ass.
“Melons, huh?” he grunted, a stupid grin on his face. His breath smelled of beer.
“Ple-please...” Paul began to whimper in fright.
All Sean’s instructions about how to behave, all the warnings about blackmail and pictures fled from his mind. All that mattered was getting away from this nightmare. The lineman moved one hand down and scratched roughly at his asshole. Paul, now crying, dropped his hands and pushed at the offending hand, but it was no use. Ignoring Paul’s attempts to stop him, he grabbed at Paul’s thong and jerked it away. The delicate elastic held for a moment before it snapped. The useless thong quickly dropped to the floor.
“Please,” Paul whispered, trying to steady himself against the wall. He tried to slide away.
The guy slid his cock free from his pants. It was rock-hard. “Okay, Melons,” he sneered, “here it comes.”
Ignoring his cries, he inserted his cock into Paul’s dry boy-pussy and began to push. Pinned, standing against the wall, Paul could only wriggle in pain as the cock ground, inch by painful inch, into his boy-cunt. Finally, it was fully inserted. Grunting with effort, he started to fuck it in and out of Paul as he stood against the wall, wailing as the cock impaled him.
Sean filmed Tyler for a few moments more as the blonde teenager eagerly accommodated the two cocks, one in his mouth and one in his ass, and then stopped the camera. They had more than enough material on Tyler. It was time they got a little more on Paul. Despite all they had done for him, Jason had been less than forthcoming about his activities with the brunette. Sean wanted some dirt of his own. He looked over at the other boy.
Paul was pinned with his chest against the wall, being fucked by a hulking brute of a football player. Paul wriggled around like a fish on a hook as his boy-cunt was filled with sperm and then fell limply to the floor when the lineman pulled away. Sean brought the camera up and began filming just as the football player came.
Another “customer” immediately replaced the guy. Paul was pulled onto a mattress, rolled on his back, and impaled by another cock while two other guys held his long legs wide. Unlike Tyler, however, Paul was not having a good time. He screamed and struggled as the football player pumped his cock in and out of his boy-pussy. His fists were futilely smacking against the player’s muscular chest, unaware or uncaring of his response as he fucked him.
Sean stopped filming. There was no point in filming a rape. The stuff with Tyler was safe as he participated freely, but Paul was being forced. While Sean had no problem with that (in fact, he enjoyed it), such a tape could land them all in jail. He bit his lip as Paul was brutally raped in front of him. Why was the drug not working on him?
The cock twitched before spurting warm, sticky sperm all over his face, but Tyler did not care. He just wanted more. By now, he had serviced at least six guys: two in his boy-cunt, another three, four, or maybe five in his hot, sucking mouth. Tyler did not care. He just wanted more. His mouth hung open, tongue extended, waiting for another cock to fill it up. He felt another guy kneel behind him. Spreading his thighs, the blonde faggot leaned back, his boy-pussy aching to be filled. He felt the cock push against his ass cheeks and into his ass, but Tyler did not care. He just wanted more. Tyler eased himself back, squealing with pleasure, as he impaled his boy-cunt on the cock. Tyler heard the guy groan as he began to pump himself in and out. Moaning with lust, Tyler reached up a hand and began to use his fingers to scrape the cum from his face and slide it into his mouth.
“God, what a fag!”
But Tyler did not care...Cumslut did not care.
The brunette, “Melons,” the fat boy had called him, tried to scramble away off the mattress after Jeff had finished with him, but two guys grabbed him and held him down on his back. He kicked and screamed but was unable to fight his way free.
Billy “Headhunter” Hawkins looked down on him as he wriggled madly on the mattress. His boy-pussy looked red, raw from Jeff’s recent assault (Jeff was one well-hung dude! Was that not the truth?). His cock floppy freely as the boy struggled to free himself.
“Well, shee-it,” he drawled. “Looks like Melons here needs a cock up his ass.”
Melons stopped struggling and looked up, his eyes wide with horror as the beefy linebacker undid his belt and let his pants slip down to his ankles. His cock, its tip already glistening, hung down in front of him. “Looks good, huh, boy?” Hawkins played with it, stroking it to its full size. It did not take long. “Ten inches of prime Mississippi man-meat.”
Laughing, Hawkins lowered himself to his knees and fell forward on top of him. It only took a moment before his cock was inside the tight, warm asshole.
Something snapped. Maybe it was the cock in Tyler’s asshole. Perhaps it was the taste and feel of the sperm which half-covered his face, but something snapped. A sudden, overwhelming wave of orgasms rumbled from his balls and sprayed more cum over his abused body as the lone cock sawed in and out of his ass. Screaming wildly, Tyler (Cumslut) thrashed about, orgasm after orgasm shooting through him. The guy riding his asshole could only grab onto his thighs and hold on as he bucked wildly beneath him.
Hawkins looked up from where he was fucking brunette. He was no longer fighting, having given up the struggle as another guy, Stadler, the center, had shoved his cock between those gorgeous lips and into his pleading mouth. He lay limp, accepting his fate as the two football players fucked his helpless body.
Someone was screaming. Hawkins stopped moving, leaving his cock buried deep inside Melon’s tight teenage boy-cunt, and squinted across the room to see what was happening. Stadler ignored screaming and continued sliding his spit-glistening cock in and out of the brunette’s mouth.
It was the blonde faggot. Tyler was bucking and screaming while Pete Brindle held on for dear life.
Tyler seemed almost crazed as he bounced up and down under Pete’s dead weight. Finally, the football player was able to hold on no longer. His grip on his sweaty thigh slipped free, and he was thrown off. His cock flapped wildly in the air as he rolled off the mattress and slammed into the couch. The boy stopped thrashing as the cock left his ass and started to look about frantically, his green eyes wild with lust and his hand stroking his dripping cock.
“Cocks,” he cried. “I need cocks...fuck me; fuck me...pleeease...” He looked about, but everyone in the room was frozen with shock.
Frustrated, he fell back on his ass and spread his legs invitingly. “Please fuck me,” he begged. His other hand was now playing roughly with his boy tits. “Fuck Cumslut...Fuck Cumslut.” He continued to masturbate, muttering to himself as he reached another less intense orgasm. “Please,” he begged quietly, shuddering from the aftermath of the orgasm. “Please fuck me...fuck Cumslut...”
Sean watched open-mouthed as Tyler writhed on the mattress, mewling quietly and pleading to be fucked. He would never have believed it if he had not seen it with his own...
The camera! Sean looked down at the video camera as it hung uselessly at his side. Fuck. Gary would kill him! He looked up. The room had gone silent as everyone stared at the blonde teenager on the mattress. Tyler was now scraping cum from his chest and licking it off his fingers. Even the player fucking Paul had stopped moving. The only movement from the room came from the big guy pumping his cock in and out of Paul’s mouth. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be off in his own world as he fucked the beautiful brunette’s face. No one else moved.
‘Christ,’ Sean thought. ‘I’d better do something quickly before the whole night’s ruined.’
A groan came from the other end of the room. The guy fucking Paul’s mouth finally came, shooting cock snot into Paul’s mouth and then onto his outraged face as he tried to turn away. He coughed and choked but would not swallow. The guy looked up, opening his eyes. Everyone was staring at him except Paul, who was busy coughing up dick juice.
“Jeez,” he muttered, puzzled at the attention.
Sean had an idea.
“Okay,” he cried, quickly moving to the center of the room. “So much for round one.”
All eyes in the room now turned to him. He looked about the room nervously. Ahh...there it was. “Pull that coffee table over,” he ordered. Two of the football players obliged. The coffee table was against the wall at the back of the living room. It stood just over two feet off the ground and was about four feet long. The guys set it down in front of him.
“Good,” he stated. “Now, bring the fags over here.”
The guy who had been fucking Paul pulled out and pulled him to his feet. Paul stumbled but remained upright as he was dragged across the room to the coffee table. Sean pushed Paul down on his knees at one end of the table, facing over the tabletop. When Paul was in position, Sean pushed the top of his body downward so Paul’s upper body was lying flat across the top of the table.
“Okay, now.” Sean turned, but no one had moved to get Tyler, who had been left on the mattress, rubbing his fingers over his inflamed cock and muttering. Everyone seemed a little spooked by him.
“C’mon, Cumslut,” Sean called at him. Tyler looked up. “Here, Cumslut.” Sean talked to him as if he were a dog. “C’mon. Come get fucked.”
That got his attention. Scrambling awkwardly to his feet, Tyler stumbled over to the coffee table. Sperm dripped from his mouth and asshole as Sean placed him, kneeling, opposite Paul across the coffee table. When he pushed the squirming boy down onto the table, Tyler’s and Paul’s faces met almost halfway across.
“Anyone got a couple of belts?” In short order, two belts had been produced, and Sean used them to secure the two boys into position by wrapping them around their lower backs and under the coffee table.
Sean leaned forward.
“Okay, sluts,” he whispered. “Let’s see some faggot action. The guys need warming up.”
Almost immediately, Tyler reached up (as best he could, strapped in as he was) and cupped Paul’s face in his hands. The brunette tried to pull away, but the belt restricted his movement, and he could not get free. Slowly and gently, Tyler pushed his face forward and planted a soft kiss on Paul’s cum-stained lips.
Paul quit struggling as he felt Tyler’s lips, soft and warm, on his own. He knew it was wrong, but it felt so good! Particularly after all the rough treatment he had been experiencing. Almost involuntarily, Paul parted his sticky lips, moaning softly as Tyler’s wet tongue slid into his mouth and began exploring. In moments, the two boys were kissing passionately, their tongues entwined. The gentleness of Tyler’s lips sent shivers of pleasure shooting through Paul’s abused body. After the repeated, brutal rapes of the past ninety minutes, it seemed like heaven to Paul.
The spell was broken when Paul heard the guys start cheering. He opened his eyes; he and Tyler looked around in panic as the football team members formed lines behind them and, one at a time, slid their aroused cocks into the boys’ assholes. Paul struggled at this new invasion, but Tyler raised his hands and cupped his face.
“Relax,” the blonde teenager whispered. “It’s easier.”
Paul started to spit out a retort but was cut off by the feel of Tyler’s lips meeting his. The brunette closed his eyes and tried to relax, shutting out the world, shutting out the sharp pain in his asshole as one of the players brutally rammed his cock in as if nothing else existed other than this handsome boy in front of him, as if nothing else mattered other than the feel of Tyler’s soft, velvety lips as they writhed against his own.
Hawkins watched, gently massaging his cock, as the two teenage faggots necked together while simultaneously getting their asses reamed out by one guy after another. Jesus, it was hot! He did not, however, join the queue. He had unfinished business with Melons and wanted to ensure he had his full attention when he fucked him. He could see how Paul’s senses were closed to the world while his teammates fucked his asshole. Not like the blonde bitch. He was hot. He was moaning and wriggling back against each cock as it impaled him from behind. As far as he could tell, he had come at least four times since the fat boy had belted him down to the coffee table. He was really into it; he and Melons were going at it like a pair of bitches in heat.
Eventually, his chance came up as the stream of football players began to slack off a bit. They had each come at least twice now, and those who wanted more chose the blonde cunt. He fucked back while the other sexy bitch lay there, unresisting.
Hawkins waited until no more guys were waiting and then moved forward to unstrap Paul, who struggled as he was torn away from his kiss with his blonde friend but offered little resistance as he was thrown down on the mattress. Paul just stared up at Hawkins, wild-eyed, as Hawkins lowered himself between Paul’s legs and once again thrust his cock into Paul’s drenched boy-pussy. This time he was going to cum inside him. The faggot began to cry as Hawkins fucked him, but the footballer did not mind that. Hell, it just meant the faggot was paying attention.
Jason sat motionless in the front seat of Sean’s car, staring blankly out the front window at the house. It had been over four hours now. He should have taken Sean’s advice and gone into the house to watch, but just the idea of those guys and what they would do to his Paul…Jason shook his head, trying to banish those thoughts from his mind.
As Sean had pointed out, there was money to be made. Lots of cash. So, why did he feel so sick just thinking about it? Why did the mere thought of some big shithead of a male sticking his ugly cock into Paul make him feel like crying? Enough! Jason reached for the handle and pushed open the car door.
Sean had videotaped the entire scene on the coffee table. He was now focusing on Tyler as he began servicing two guys: one from behind him as he knelt, strapped in place, over the wooden surface and one in his mouth as he straddled the coffee table in front of him. Sean kept the camera away from Paul, who refused to become aroused. Sean could not understand it; Paul had drunk as much of the drug as Tyler, but he was not...
Realization dawned. There was no drug! Gary had not been putting anything in Tyler’s drinks for three months. The liquid in the thermos had only been alcohol. Paul was doing this straight! Sean stared open-mouthed at Paul, tears streaming down his face as he was fucked on the mattress. Then he looked back at Tyler at the coffee table. If Paul was doing this without the benefit of the drug, then so was Tyler. On the coffee table, Tyler groaned with pleasure as his body was wracked with yet another orgasm. The door behind him banged shut. Sean whirled around to see Jason running into the room. Jason’s pudgy face was red with exertion.
Jason stopped in his tracks as his eyes lit on the mattress where some asshole was lying between Paul’s spread legs, pumping his cock in and out while Paul wailed and struggled beneath him. Sean reached towards him, but Jason shook off his hand.
“Get off of him, you asshole,” Jason screeched, running towards the mattress.
Shocked, the guy looked up from where he was fucking Paul just in time to see Jason barreling across the room toward him. Hawkins only had time to throw up his hands as the fat teenager slammed into him with enough force to make him think he was back on the football field. With a shout, Hawkins fell back, his cock sliding out of Paul’s boy-cunt just as he came. A wad of sperm flew up and across the room, splattering against the back wall.
“Ja-Jason?” Paul looked up at his rescuer from where he was cringing on the mattress, confused and frightened.
“It’s okay, honey,” Jason said soothingly, bending down to help the naked boy onto his feet. “I’ve got you now.”
The room fell silent as Jason helped the crying brunette boy to his feet and then led him toward the door.
“What the fuck?” Hawkins was confused.
Jason looked up at him. For a moment, it seemed like Hawkins was going to go after Jason, but he quickly backed down. His cock still dripped sperm as it dangled, limp and wet, before him. Jason led the trembling Paul through the front door and into the open air. The door slammed shut behind them.
Sean and everyone else in the room stood in stunned silence. The only sound heard was a quiet slurping from where Tyler continued to suck on the cock in front of him.
“Hey!” It was the guy Jason had knocked over. “What the fuck was that all about?”
He had wrapped a towel around his waist. “We paid for two whores tonight, not just one.”
Sean felt panic as the guys in the room turned their attention towards him. He thought quickly. “Okay,” he cried, “Fair enough. I’ll return half the money...”
‘Jason’s share,’ he thought grimly. “...and the video will be free.” He looked around, experiencing a tense moment. Would they go for it?
Then the silence was broken as the guy Tyler was sucking finally came, groaning loudly as he pumped his warm sperm into Tyler’s rapidly convulsing throat. Another guy cheered, and the tension broke as the guys converged on Tyler. The guy pulled his now limp cock out of his mouth and moved away. Another player quickly replaced him.
Jason helped Paul into the back seat, slid beside him, and shut the car door. He had draped his coat over the other boy’s shoulders, but, despite the warmth of the evening, Paul could not stop shivering. His upper body and thighs were covered with bruises from where he had been roughly handled; his face and chest were covered with rapidly congealing sperm.
Jason felt like crying. The heavy teenager reached up and put his arm around the jock boy’s shoulder. To his surprise, Paul stopped trembling and leaned into him. Paul laid his head on Jason’s shoulder.
“Ho-honey...Paul,” Jason felt strangely tongue-tied. His throat had gone dry, and he had to swallow before continuing. “I...I want you to know that...um…I’m, like, so-sorry about what…what happened in...in there.” A tear began to trickle down his face. “I di-didn’t mean...”
Jason was interrupted by the soft touch of Paul’s finger on his cheek, brushing away the tear. Jason looked over at the other boy. Even through the tears, bruises, and dried sperm, he looked so...beautiful!
“Jason...” Paul’s voice was soft and hoarse. “Jason...”
Tyler moaned and bucked as yet another of the football players came in his boy-pussy. The cock in front of him had exploded a few moments earlier, and he was still licking the sperm from his lips. It had been over an hour since his last orgasm, and the guys were, at last, beginning to slow down. He must have fucked all of them at least three times. At least, it felt like it. His boy-pussy had gone numb many fucks ago, and the football team members had neither the skill nor the inclination to give his cock the attention it needed to pleasure him. He was slowly coming out of the pleasure-induced fog that had enveloped his mind earlier in the evening.
The cock slid out of his pussy, leaving him cock-free for the first time in hours. Almost immediately, he felt a hand grab his hair and drag him painfully to his feet. Dimly, he opened his eyes to see what was happening. It was Sean.
Tyler winced but did not resist as he was pulled across the room. He was forced to kneel on top of the coffee table. His balance failed him, and he slipped backward. Sean, however, caught him and shoved him back upright. Quickly, he turned the blonde teenager around and positioned his so that he was leaning back on his heels with his thighs spread wide. His dripping cock glistened in the light.
Sean pulled the thermos out and handed it to the naked boy. Anxious to recapture the pleasure he had felt earlier in the evening, Tyler sucked hungrily at it, finishing what was left. He burped slightly as Sean took back the empty thermos.
“Now listen,” Sean muttered to him. “You’re going to put on a bit of a show for the guys. They’re getting a bit worn down. Do you understand?”
Tyler felt the now-familiar rush of alcohol and drugs. Confused, he shook his head as his well-used boy-cunt began to tingle.
“I’m going to ask you some questions,” Sean explained, “You’re going to answer to the camera. If you don’t get them excited again and quickly, I’ll see that this tape gets circulated a bit. Is that clear?”
Tyler choked back the tears and nodded his head. He was doing everything they told him to do. Why the threats? He was a good boy!
Tyler reached down and began stroking his cock. Sean slapped it away.
“Not yet,” he ordered.
Obediently, Tyler let his hand fall limply at his side. Sean would tell him what to do.
Sean stepped back and surveyed the scene. The video camera had been set up to cover the shot from the front, framing Tyler directly in the screen. Out of sight of the camera, the football players lined up against the walls, watching Tyler as he perched on the coffee table. Perfect. Now, just one more thing, and they would be set up.
“Anyone ready for a blowjob?”
One of the big guys, the one who had been knocked over earlier by Jason, stepped forward. His cock jutted out in front of him, ready for action. Sean nodded toward Tyler and watched as he moved to stand in front of him. Once again trembling with lust, Tyler took the cock in his mouth and began slurping away. The faggot’s hand wandered down to his cock and began sliding up and down.
Sean moved in and whispered in Tyler’s ear as he sucked. “Two things, bitch.”
Tyler’s eyes rolled towards Sean as he continued to work on the cock. “First, you can play with yourself all you like, but don’t cum until I say. Do you understand?” Tyler moaned an acknowledgment.
“Second, when this guy comes, don’t swallow. Hold it in your mouth until I say otherwise.”
Tyler’s eyes widened, but he once again grunted in the affirmative. Satisfied, Sean backed away and watched as the blonde teenager brought the guy to an orgasm and sucked his sperm into his mouth. By the time he was finished, his cheeks were bulging with the thick, white fluid.
Okay, everything was ready. Sean hit the “record” button and began talking to Tyler as he crouched on the coffee table facing the camera, legs spread and cock glistening.
“What’s your name?”
Tyler looked confused.
“What’s your name?” Sean repeated menacingly.
“Ty-Ty-Tyler,” came the uncertain answer. “Tyler Ri-Richards.”
A small trickle of cum dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin. The blonde fag was still playing with himself and was very close to an orgasm. Sean shook his head.
“What is your name?”
Understanding dawned on Tyler’s cum-encrusted face. He looked like he was about to cry. “Cumslut,” he answered quietly, trying to keep the cum in his mouth. “My name is Cumslut.”
Sean smirked at him. “What are you, Cumslut? What do you do?”
Tyler moaned, trying not to cum. He looked beseechingly at his tormentor, but Sean stared back at him.
“I’m a cumdump,” the blonde answered, broken. “I’m a cocksucking faggot who loves cum.” His left hand moved faster and faster over his cock.
“Please...let me come.”
“Jason,” Paul looked over at the boy who had pulled him out from under the guy who had been raping him. The boy who had rescued him. “I...what you said about gu-guys...” Jason’s arm felt good on his shoulder. It somehow made him feel safe and warm. “You were right.” Paul fought back the tears. “You were right about them.” He looked over at his rescuer. He saw the greasy hair, the weight problem, the acne.
“Paul...” The other boy began to speak, but Paul cut him off with a finger on his lips.
“Jason,” he whispered, “I just want you to know...”
“What are you?”
By now, the cum was trickling steadily between Tyler’s lips as he babbled away. “I’m a fuckhole, a cumdump. I need to be fucked all the time. I love to have cocks up my cunt and in my mouth.” Tyler (Cumslut) felt the waves of pleasure pulse up from where his fingers rubbed frantically at his cock. Despite the humiliation, or as a result, he could feel another orgasm inside of him. “Please,” he begged. “Let me cum.”
“What are you?”
“Cum all over me. I love cum. I love to suck it out of big juicy cocks. I love to feel it dribble over my lips and face.” He could feel his face reddening with intense humiliation, but he could not stop himself. It was not his fault. It was the drugs that did this. Gary, Sean, and Neil could blackmail him, but the drugs made him.
“I’m a cumslut,” he wailed, feeling the orgasm slowly build in his body. He stopped talking and looked over at Sean. “Let me cum...please?”
Sean looked at his for a moment and then nodded his approval. It was time to bring this to an end. Tyler’s other hand went to his boy-cunt. He thrust one, two, and finally three fingers into his hungry hole while rubbing furiously at his cock.
“I’m a cumslut...I’m a cock whore...I’m…”
Sean watched in amazement as the blonde fag wailed and cried his way into and through a massive orgasm. The sperm he had been holding in his cheeks exploded outwards, drenching his lower face and chest as he screamed and sobbed on the coffee table.
What a faggot!
Finally, Tyler crested the top of the orgasm. Sean watched as he slowly calmed down.
“Cumslut,” the blonde teenager mumbled over and over again, his fingers hard at work on his dripping cock.
The room fell silent, but Tyler began to build himself back up again. Sean bit his lip as he watched. The faggot was going to come again!
‘I’ve got to tell him,’ he thought to himself. Gary would kill him, but...
Sean waited until Tyler was reaching the crest of yet another orgasm. Then, after shutting off the camera, he leaned forward and whispered something into the fag’s ear.
Paul hesitated momentarily but then carried on. “Do-do you remember that day at Tyler’s? Where...where you…um...spanked me?”
Jason nodded dumbly.
“I...well...” Paul was embarrassed. “Would you...would you do it a-again?”
Jason just stared.
“I...I know I’ve been ba-bad,” Paul stammered. “I need to be punished. I ne-ne-need you to spank me.” Paul flushed and looked away.
Jason felt a sudden flush of joy as he looked over at Paul. Paul was looking down, unable to meet the other boy in the eye, but that was all right. It was better than all right!
“Yes, darling,” Jason answered. “Of course, I’ll give you a spanking.” He shifted slightly in his seat. “Come here.”
Paul, his flesh bruised and aching from the rough treatment, moved carefully as he spread his long, sweet body out over Jason’s lap, ass upwards. Jason wasted no time. He immediately began administering strong, rhythmic slaps to the well-presented ass. Soon, it was shining red.
At first, the pain was great for Paul, but that was okay; he deserved it. After a while, however, the burning seemed to fade away somewhat and was replaced by a slow wave of pleasure that spread steadily outward from where his cock rubbed against Jason’s knee.
“I’m sorry...I’m sorry,” Paul kept repeating this phrase as the pleasure built up, taking him over the edge into an intense orgasm. “Oh, god...”
Crying, Paul trembled and shook on the other boy’s lap. Cum spraying out over Jason’s legs. Finally, it was over. Paul turned his tear and cum-stained face upwards and looked Jason in the eye, his eyes wide with adoration.
“I…I lo-love you,” Paul whispered.
Hawkins slowly rubbed his hand along his rapidly hardening cock as he watched the scene before him. Fuckin’ A! He had already come three times that night, but that blonde fag’s performance on the coffee table was making him hard again.
He was perched up on the coffee table, masturbating and going on about what a cum slut he was and other stuff like that, dribbling cum down his chin. This continued until the fat boy told the fag he could finally cum, which he did almost immediately. What an orgasm! The faggot thrashed about and screamed like he was having his tits mangled. Hawkins had never seen anything like it.
Afterward, the fat boy turned off the camera and walked towards the fag. He waited until it looked like the fag was going to have another orgasm, then leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Immediately, the blonde boy stopped frigging himself and stared at the other boy, his eyes wide.
“No,” the blonde teen whispered. “You’re lying.”
The fat boy just smirked and shook his head. Once again, he muttered something to the fag on the coffee table and then turned to walk away.
“You’re lying,” the blonde boy yelled at Sean’s retreating back. “It’s…it’s no-not true.”
Tyler had started crying; tears streamed down his face, making trails in the dried cum. His entire body was wracked with violent sobs. Hawkins noticed that Tyler’s left hand began to move again.
The fat boy laughed. He picked up the video camera and walked to the door.
“You’re lying,” the blonde screamed from his perch on the coffee table. “You’re lying!”
Sean turned. “No,” he said quietly, “I’m not. No drugs; not tonight and not since January.”
Sean paused and looked Tyler up and down as the cock whore crouched, wailing, on the coffee table. His blonde hair was matted with sweat and cum; his face, once handsome, was red and splotchy with tears and sperm; his lithe body was bruised and caked with dried sperm. And, all the while, his left hand continuously frigged at his exposed cock, the metal necklace glinting mockingly in the light.
“Faggot!” Sean looked up at the football players at the back of the room. To a man, they were hard again. “He’s all yours,” he said, smirking. “Just get him back in one piece.” He turned and walked out the front door.
Tyler broke down, sobbing and crying as the football team moved towards him.
In due course, Tyler was elected Homecoming King. It was no great surprise, either to him or to anyone else. The only possible competition, Paul Peterson, had dropped out of the race. Paul no longer moved in the kinds of social circles from which Homecoming Kings were inevitably chosen. Tyler, for all his sexual activities at Winchester over the previous nine months, still enjoyed at least the appearance of respectability.
While the word was out among most of the guys at school that Tyler was a cocksucking, faggot slut, nothing could be proved, particularly to those who mattered: the teachers and parents. And, if Tyler dressed a little more daringly during his senior year and went out on lots of dates (if they only knew), well, there was nothing wrong with that as long as he kept his marks up in school (and his grades in his final year were the highest of any student ever to attend Winchester Academy).
So, a little wildness, a little rebelliousness, was expected and tolerated. Tyler was a teenager, after all. Indeed, his now well-known willingness to fuck and suck any guy in school helped him get elected oddly. Six male students on the Graduation Committee selected the Homecoming King each year. Tyler had been fucked by two of them during the year. And just before the crucial election, he had given each of the six a blowjob out in the school parking lot.
It was Sean’s “suggestion,” but Tyler did not mind much. After what had happened to him over the school year, giving blowjobs in a parking lot was almost relaxing. He more or less tolerated the taste of cock in his mouth, and only two of the guys made him swallow. He still hated that. Against his will, he found himself almost thankful that they only wanted to fuck his mouth. Since the incident at the second football party, he had found himself unable to get excited about being fucked in his boy-cunt, just like in the beginning.
The fourth of the six Graduation Committee guys he sucked off was the long-awaited number sixty-five. He had not even realized it at the time. It was not until he made his report to Gary that he pointed this out. Number sixty-five! He was finished, no longer a fuckhole and cumdump for his classmates.
A dazed and confused Tyler admitted Gary and Sean to his house later that afternoon. He was almost sure they would not release him as they had promised, but that seemed to be what was happening. After school, the two blackmailers brought a small box of material, four videotapes, and many still pictures and handed them over without comment. Gary even gave him advance copies of his final exams. He had almost forgotten about them, and he was certainly not prepared. He was so surprised that he found himself feeling genuinely thankful.
However, that feeling only lasted until they left, and he had a chance to go through the material. He quickly discovered that familiar loathing for his (former) tormentors. Before the hour was up, he had burned the pictures, and the videotape lay in crumpled ribbons at his feet. No one would ever have that kind of power over him again!
He had also ripped off the necklace but, in doing so, had involuntarily sent the shiny Fs and Ss sailing across his bedroom. He located most of them, but they would still turn up once in a while in a pillow or under a seat cushion.
The remaining two weeks of school shot by. Exams were held, and with the stolen exams, the first four exams were a breeze. During the fifth exam, however, Tyler stared down at the exam, eyes widening with shock. This was not the test he had! Desperate, he re-read the questions, flipping the paper over to ensure he had not missed something. Nothing. The questions did not even begin to resemble those that Gary had supplied him with.
Gary! This must be his idea of a joke. He felt tears of rage well up inside him and spill over onto his face, but there was nothing he could do about it now or ever, for that matter. He knew he lacked the will to confront Gary with this latest torment. Besides, what could he do about it? He doubted that the school authorities would have much sympathy for his plight.
Feeling sick, he got to work, answering the questions as best he could. By the end of the exam, he thought he had done pretty well, despite his lack of preparation; the material was not that difficult, and he had always considered himself more intelligent than most of the other students at Winchester anyway.
The final two exams went fine; the supplied exam papers matched exactly the ones provided to him by Gary. Tyler was almost willing to believe that the incident had been an honest mistake on Gary’s part. Almost. Not that it mattered.
It had been over a week since he had sucked anybody, or anybody had fucked him. A whole, wonderful week of doing and saying whatever he wanted! He refused several “offers,” but that was turning out to be enjoyable. It satisfied him to let those jerks know what he thought about them. He was beginning to feel more and more like his old self every day.
The same, however, could not be said of Paul. He was a new person. Physically, the change was noticeable. Gone was the short, brown hair. Instead, he now had spikey purple and pink hair, triple-pierced ears, a shiny silver stud in his nose, and a large ball piercing through his tongue. You could see the outline of the cock piercing and the large barbell piercing through his nipples.
Gone was the preppy clothing. No more khaki and polo shirts; Paul wore only black jeans and dark tee shirts. Just the same as Jason.
The changes were more than just physical. After the night of the football party at WCN, Paul quickly drifted away from his old group of friends and started spending all of his time with Jason. Eventually, they became inseparable and could often be seen holding hands and kissing in the woods behind the school. Paul soon joined his boyfriend in social isolation, but he did not seem to mind much. Neither did Jason.
On the Monday of the last week of school, Tyler had resolved to attempt to talk to his old friend, but when he tried to locate him, he quickly found out that Paul and Jason had left school a week early (right after exams) to go on a camping trip together. Paul’s puzzled mother had confided to Tyler that Paul had withdrawn his application at a major university back east and, over the strenuous objections of his father, had instead decided to attend college at WCN the following year. His parents were both mystified at this change of plans. Tyler could have told her why but kept his silence. Jason had failed his senior classes and had one more year of high school in Winchester.
“Excuse me, Mr. Peabody?”
Tyler stood in front of the secretary’s desk, clutching the pink slip informing him of the principal’s wish to see him immediately. The last week of classes was more of a formality than anything else, checking in books and materials, so there had been no problem leaving the class to answer the principal’s summons. His secretary, a tall, thin man with gray hair, took the slip and stared at it.
“And you are Tyler Richards?” The older man stared suspiciously at the teenager as if suspecting him of being an imposter.
‘Yeah,’ Tyler thought to himself sarcastically, ‘like I really want to be here.’
“Yes,” he answered politely. “Dr. Grossman wants to see me?” ‘Probably something about being this year’s Homecoming King,’ he mused.
“So it would appear.” The secretary picked up the phone, pushed a button, and spoke into it. “Tyler Richards here to see you, sir.” There were a few moments of silence, and then he nodded briskly. “Go right in; he’s expecting you.”
Tyler entered the principal’s large office. It was set in the back of the school building, giving a good view of the playing fields and the forest stretching out behind Winchester. The principal, Dr. Randall Grossman, sat behind an enormous mahogany desk. He had short, jet-black hair, which had recently begun the long retreat up his forehead. His large, dark eyes peered out from behind his bifocals.
Despite his seemingly mild appearance, the principal had a solid physical presence. He had experienced little or no trouble intimidating the students (and staff, for that matter) into compliance with his policies. As a result of his abilities, Winchester Academy had one of the highest academic records in the state.
The students, of course, hated and feared him; Tyler was no exception. Grossman did not hesitate to expel a student when he saw the need and had, on one memorable and well-publicized occasion, been instrumental in the criminal conviction of a student who had been caught with a stolen exam paper. Tyler, perhaps better than anyone, remembered this.
“Mr. Richards.” His voice was high, surprisingly effeminate. “Please...have a seat.”
Tyler sat as the school principal opened a white folder and removed a sheet of paper from it. He glanced at the form and then looked up at him. “Tyler,” he began, “your marks this year have been the best we’ve ever seen from a student at Winchester.
I’ve personally never come across such a consistently brilliant student.”
“Thank you,” Tyler said, breathing a small sigh of relief. He had not been expecting trouble, but you never knew.
“That’s why I was so surprised at your history test,” the principal continued.
“History 12,” he explained, handing the paper over to him. It was the cover sheet of his exam paper in the History class, the one Gary had given him the wrong cheat sheet. It had a “49” marked on top of it in bright red pen. Forty-nine! Tyler felt like he was going to throw up. That was a failing grade. His hand trembled as he held the sheet. After everything that had happened to him this year, and now….
“Summer school,” Dr. Grossman said as if reading his mind. “If you fail a course, you must make it up over the summer.” He stared at Tyler as he turned pale. “You know that, don’t you?”
White as a sheet, Tyler nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Summer school!
A tiny smile played across Dr. Grossman’s mild face as he noted the boy’s reactions. They were perfect, and so was the boy—a real find. Since Mr. Edgar’s tearful confession the previous week, Grossman had been looking forward to this moment. He had always fantasized about something like this. Getting control of one of the beautiful young faggot cock whores in his school and imposing his “tastes” on one of them, but he had never dared try it before now. There was too much at risk: his job, career, and reputation. There was always The Club whenever he felt the need to indulge himself. The Club! What delightful things they could do with this teenage cocksucker; what marvelous things they would do to him if his plan worked, and it should. It should work. If Edgar’s description of events was accurate, there was every reason to believe that his plan would unfold exactly as he hoped. First, however, he wanted to test the water. See how Tyler reacted.
“Young man,” he said sternly, breaking the silence, “is there anything you wish to say or do to convince me to exercise my discretionary powers to give you a passing grade so you can graduate.” He stared at Tyler from behind his bifocals. “I can do that, you know.”
Tyler was not stupid. He knew what the principal was talking about. Tyler thought quickly. He could not go to summer school. He just could not! Taking a deep breath, the teenager regained control and looked at the principal. He sat staring at him appraisingly. Maybe. It worked with Edgar; why not with...
“Si-sir,” he stammered, flushing red. “I-I-I’ll do whatever I have to do to pass; whatever you wa-wa-want.” The blonde teenager fought down the bile which rose in his throat. He was supposed to be finished with this bullshit.
Dr. Grossman raised an eyebrow. “Anything?”
“Yes, sir,” he answered quietly.
They understood each other. The school principal leaned forward and punched a button on the intercom.
“Mr. Peabody, hold all my calls and visitors for the next two hours and call Gardner to the office. He can wait out there.”
The secretary acknowledged the orders. Dr. Grossman sat back in his chair and stared at the trembling teenager. He looked so delicious, sitting in his khakis and polo shirt, his beautiful blonde hair hanging loose, framing his angelic face.
“Okay, Tyler, here’s the deal.” He got to his feet and sauntered across the room towards him. “Stand up against the desk.”
He did as ordered. The giant mahogany desk came up to just below his crotch.
“Now, bend over and grab these drawer handles.”
Once again, Tyler did as directed. He was now bent over the desktop, stretched out with his hands just reaching the two drawer handles.
“Now,” the principal continued, running his gaze appreciatively up and down the mouthwatering body, “if you can hold that position for the next two hours, you pass, but if, for any reason, you let go of those handles...well, we’ll be seeing you at summer school. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Tyler answered quietly.
His fingers curled tightly around the small metal handles as he prepared himself for the worst. A tear trickled down one cheek and fell onto the desktop. He had a good idea of what would soon be happening.
Harold Gardner was a big man. He was also a black man. He worked as a janitor and general handyman at Winchester Academy, a position he had held ever since he had been personally hired by the school principal, Dr. Grossman. He and Grossman went back a long way. They had similar tastes in particular...activities, and both enjoyed membership in an exclusive club. When Gardner lost his job at city hall because of his criminal record, Grossman was happy to take him in and provide him with employment. No blackmail or anything like that, just one friend doing another friend a favor.
Gardner looked over at Mr. Peabody and smiled. The secretary looked over and acknowledged his smile. He, too, was a personal appointee of Dr. Grossman, and like Gardner, he was a member of the Club. Grossman had discussed his plans for Tyler with him a couple of days earlier, and although he was somewhat concerned about the risks, he had agreed to go along with it. If it worked...
A rhythmic slapping sound came from the principal’s office. It had been going on for about twenty minutes and showed no sign of abating. Gardner and Peabody looked at each other and smirked; they had a pretty good idea of what was happening. Five minutes later, the sound stopped. The door to the principal’s office opened, and Grossman looked out. His face flushed red and damp with sweat.
“Ah, Mr. Gardner,” he said. “I wonder if you could help me with a little matter.”
“Ah’m sure ah can,” Gardner answered, getting to his feet.
“Is there anything I can do?” Peabody asked hopefully.
Grossman shook his head. “I’m afraid I need you out here. “You must hold my calls and keep people out of the office for a while. Later though...” His smile promised much as he closed the door.
Mr. Peabody shivered and reached one hand down to massage his cock as he imagined what was happening in the office.
Gardner did not have to imagine anymore. The blonde cumdump (as he thought of him) was lying across the mahogany desk, grasping onto two drawer handles as if his life depended upon it. The janitor was somewhat surprised to see that he was not tied down in any way but said nothing. Grossman knew what he was doing. Tyler’s pants and boxers were down around his ankles, and his tight teenage ass was beet red with black splotches from the paddling the principal had been administering for the last half hour or so.
“Harold,” Grossman said, puffing slightly from his exertions. “Tyler here was just saying how much he fancied sucking on a black cock while I paddle him.” He brought the paddle down sharply on the teenager’s quivering ass. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Richards?”
Tyler flinched and squirmed when he hit him, but his hands remained tight around the door handles. “Ye-yes, sir,” he answered, gritting his teeth against the pain. “I’m afraid I mi-might make too much noise while...while being paddled.”
Tyler groaned with humiliation. “Si-sir...” he addressed the janitor, “would you put your cock in my mouth, please? If I have a co-cock to suck on...I won’t make so much no-noise.” The blonde teenager squirmed on the desk as Grossman fondled the beet-red ass.
“Well, Harold,” the principal asked. “Will you help him out?”
Gardner, his cock already straining against his overalls, quickly agreed. In a flash, he was seated behind Grossman’s desk, pulling out his enormous, black cock and feeding it to the crying teenager bent over the desk in front of him. Tyler gagged but soon accommodated it in his mouth.
“Suck it, faggot,” he ordered, cuffing the boy on the side of the face. Obediently, Tyler began to bob his head. Hands still firmly gripping the drawer handles, he began to slurp hungrily at the giant black cock.
He was good. “Feels good, you little cocksucker,” the black man complimented him. “You’ve sucked plenty of cock before.”
Tyler groaned in humiliation as he slid his mouth up and down on his cock, but did not pull away. He just kept sucking. Even when Grossman continued the paddling, whacking away at his ass until it was bruised red and blue. Even when Gardner quickly came, spurting cum into his sucking mouth and down his throat, he just sucked him dry and then kept sucking as he became hard again. Even when Grossman, panting and gasping from his sadistic exertions, finally stopped whacking his flaming bottom with the paddle and jammed his near-bursting cock into Tyler’s dry asshole, Tyler kept sucking and squirming until both men let loose, flooding him with cum from both ends. Even then, he just kept sucking until finally, Gardner pulled out of his mouth. Grossman, exhausted, leaned against the desk. His face had turned an alarming shade of red, but a vicious smile was on his face.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s enough. You can let go now.”
Tyler tried, but his hands were so tightly wrapped around the handles that it took him several seconds to tear them loose. Groaning with pain and humiliation, he brought one hand up and wiped ineffectually at the glistening sperm covering his lower face. The two men watched as he bent over and slowly pulled his boxers and pants over his bruised and battered ass, covering the thin trail of sperm trickling down his thigh. Finally, he was dressed. He turned his tear-stained face towards the principal.
“The-the test,” he mumbled, dazed with pain.
Grossman reached over, grabbed a pen, and wrote a large “Pass” on top. “Well done, Tyler,” he congratulated him, still gasping. “I wish all of the students here at Winchester Academy were as dedicated as you are.”
Tyler ignored the taunt. Moving carefully, he turned and limped out of the office.
“Jesus,” Gardner muttered. “Yer jus’ gonna let him walk outta here like that? What a loss. Everyone in the Club will wanna hear ‘bout—”
“The Club will meet him soon enough,” Grossman chuckled, reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a cassette tape. “We’re not done with him yet.”
Finally, the last day of school at Winchester Academy arrived. The school seemed quiet, already half-deserted, as a good proportion of the students were skipping the final hours in favor of starting their summer holiday a day early. The only reason to attend the last day was to pick up the school yearbook and say goodbye to friends. The yearbook was mailed out anyway, and with more kids on the beach than in the school, there was no real reason to say goodbye.
Tyler Richards trudged along the quiet hallway with a rucksack full of gym equipment in one hand and a school yearbook in the other. In pain from the severe paddling administered to his ass earlier in the week, he would have preferred to stay at home, but his duties as a Recreation Instructor required his presence at school to check through and store the sports equipment. He would have preferred to be on the beach with his friends, but his ass was in no shape for a swimsuit. Maybe in a couple of weeks, but not now.
He walked up to his locker and began dialing the combination on the lock when he heard giggling behind him. Turning, he saw three boys from a lower grade looking at him and laughing. One of them was pointing to an open yearbook.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, angry. Tyler was not used to being treated this way by his social inferiors at school.
Unintimidated, the boys just laughed and continued down the hall. Puzzled, he watched them go. What was going on? Tyler looked around. Suddenly paranoid, he noticed that others were looking at him as well. Some were grinning at him while others flipped through their yearbooks, laughing and whispering. The seemingly deserted school hallway now seemed full of laughing, whispering students. What was happening? The locker was forgotten. Tyler placed his rucksack on the floor and opened the yearbook. Everything seemed normal as he flipped quickly through the book, just the typical high school yearbook. The page turned open to the sports section.
“Oh, god...” Tyler sagged up against his locker, suddenly weak.
“Would Tyler Richards please report to the principal’s office?” (the PA system)
Tyler ignored it, staring at the picture covering half a page. It was under the heading “Swim Club,” but rather than the entire team, it just displayed Tyler. He was posed in a swimsuit, one of the too-small swimsuits Sean had forced him to wear during the second photo session. The suit had been soaked, and his cock and balls clearly showed through the thin fabric as he knelt, knees widely spread, staring seductively at the camera.
Gary! That bastard. He did not know how he managed it, but it was him. Panicking, he began to turn the pages to the “R” section of grade twelve. If he had put that picture in the sports section, what had he... It was his picture, and he recognized it. He was dressed in the tight, pink thong Sean had produced for the first photo session, leaning back, hands fondling his stiff cock and a look of passion—no, lust—on his beautiful face. He looked like a complete faggot.
His stunned gaze fell to the text below the picture: ‘Boy most likely try out anything.’ Under that was a tiny “happy face” with an F beside it and another with an S beside it. Horrified, the panicking teenager scanned the remaining pictures on the page and saw three of the “happy faces” with an F under the photograph of Terry Rhymer, who had fucked Tyler three times during the year. The book’s pages flipped through his fingers, coming to rest in the grade eight section; there were rows and rows of happy faces with Fs and Ss under Tim Myers’ picture.
The yearbook slid out of his numb fingers, dropping to the floor. The full realization of what had happened sunk into his brain. During his torment, he had been sustained by one goal—to maintain his position at Winchester. There must be a way. Most of the yearbooks had not been given out yet. If he acted quickly, he could stop the mail out and maybe even get most, if not all, the books recalled.
“Would Tyler Richards please report to the principal’s office?” (the PA system)
He did not hear it. Moving as fast as he could, he raced through the combination on his locker and jerked it open, determined to stow the rucksack and get to the principal’s office as soon as possible. However, dozens of pictures slid out onto the hallway floor as he did so. Alarmed, Tyler reached down and picked one up. It was a picture from a website entitled Boyslut, and it had... For the second time in as many minutes, Tyler felt unable to breathe as panic swept through his body. The pictures were of him! The full-color photograph featured a sharp close-up of his face as he lapped hungrily at a string of cum running from his mouth to an enormous cock.
Neil’s cock, he realized, recognizing the scene.
He stared in horror at the pictures on the floor, pictures of him on cockwhore.com, cockslut.com, and boypussy.com. He began scooping up the photos from the floor. He was crawling across the floor to get the last picture.
“What’s this?” It was another student, Stephen Bowers. Tyler had stolen his girlfriend in grade ten. The boy bent over to pick up a picture.
“Give me that,” Tyler yelled, inadvertently attracting the attention of several nearby students. He grabbed the picture out of the other boy’s hand and tossed it into his locker.
“Would Tyler Richards please report to the principal’s office?” (the PA system)
Tyler did hear the announcement this time. He slammed the locker shut and locked it. A small crowd of students had gathered around to see the fuss, but the pictures were safely locked away.
“Fuck off,” he cried at them, tears running down his face. They watched silently as he ran off toward the office. He had to get those yearbooks recalled!
Stephen watched him go, puzzled. Usually, Tyler was so cool, so superior. What had happened to him? He gazed speculatively at Tyler’s locker. Wait a moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper with three numbers. He had found it stuffed into his locker this morning. The numbers looked like combination numbers. Could it be? As he moved forward to try it out, he noticed two or three other students in the crowd were also pulling out small pieces of paper and looking at them. With mounting excitement, Stephen began to enter the numbers.
Tyler barged through the door and charged into the school office. No one was there. Frantic, he ran behind the counter and into the administrative section of the school. There must be someone.
“There you are!” It was Mr. Peabody. He stomped towards the panicked teenager. “We’ve been calling you to the office for ten minutes now. Are you deaf?”
“Mr. Peabody,” Tyler began, ignoring the secretary’s tirade, “you’ve got to recall the yearbooks. Someone has...” He was cut off as Mr. Peabody grabbed him by the ear and began dragging him down the hall toward the principal’s office
Tyler stumbled behind Mr. Peabody, trying to pull away, but the pain was too much. Finally, they arrived at the principal’s office. The secretary knocked on the door and then pushed it open without waiting for an acknowledgment. He gripped Tyler’s reddened ear to propel the reluctant teenager into the office and then entered behind him, closing the door. Rubbing his ear, Tyler looked around. Dr. Grossman sat behind the desk, a severe look on his face.
“Tyler,” he said, “sit down.”
“Sir,” Tyler began breathlessly, “The yearbook...you have to—”
Startled, Tyler fell silent and dropped into the seat directly opposite the desk.
“This is a grave matter,” the principal explained grimly. “I’ve just had some important evidence brought to my attention regarding your academic performance this year.”
“Si-sir?” Tyler flinched as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Mr. Peabody standing behind the chair.
“I found this cassette tape in my mailbox,” Grossman continued, pulling a small tape deck out of his desk. “Listen.”
He punched the play button. Tyler listened. Almost at once, he heard the sound of his voice:
“I heard you have a copy of next week’s English exam. Is that true?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Tyler felt an absurd sense of déjà vu as he listened in disbelief.
“I want a copy of that exam. I need it for this weekend.”
“Tyler, you mean you want a copy of a stolen exam paper so you can cheat on next Monday’s English test.”
“Yes. I need it to pass the exam...I’ll pay money. How about $100? Please?”
“All right, I’ll sell you the stolen exam paper for $100. Will that be all, Tyler, or do you want any more exams? I can probably get whatever you want.”
“That sounds great. I’ll buy whatever you can get for the classes I’m in. $100 a paper.”
“It’s a deal. Meet me tomorrow after school in the woodworking shop. It should be deserted on Friday afternoon. Don’t forget the money.”
The hissing stopped for a second as the tape fell silent. Tyler struggled to get to his feet, but the secretary held him down, his hand firmly pressing down on the teenager’s shoulder.
“There’s more,” Mr. Peabody whispered menacingly.
Tyler knew that. He knew exactly what was coming. Trembling, he listened as the voices began once again:
“Well,” his voice again, “do you have it?”
“I’ve got it. One stolen English exam paper for Tyler Richards. And my money?”
There was a brief moment of silence, and they the sound of paper being crinkled.
“It’s all there; you don’t have to worry about that now or in the future.”
“Fine. It’s all yours.”
The voices fell silent, and he heard a door slam—the shop door slamming when he left the room. The hiss slowly faded as the recording came to a halt. The school principal hit the stop button. Struggling to hold back a smile, he looked over at Tyler.
Tyler went limp.
The yearbook was forgotten.
The website was forgotten.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Tyler brought his hands up to cover his face. How could that one cheating incident on the math test have brought him to this?
“I think you know what this means, young man,” he told him.
He knew. Oh...he knew.
Mr. Peabody, still keeping his hand firmly on the blonde teenager’s shoulder, bent down and put his lips to Tyler’s ear.
“Summer school,” he whispered, as his tongue flicked out and licked at Tyler’s ear.
“I’m sure,” Dr. Grossman continued, watching with glee as his secretary slid his hands down and began mauling the boy tits of the unresisting teenager, “that this summer will be a learning experience for all of us.”
The previously posted stories are no longer available.
22 Dec 09 - Tyler's Senior Year Part 1, Chapters 1-17
22 May 15 - Bath Time for Jayden-Lee
22 Apr 22 - Charlie
21 Sept 01 to 22 February 22 - The Angels StudioThe Angels Studio
21 July 02 - My Personal Hell
21 Mar 01 - Cherry Popping Club
21 Jan 16 - Good Boy
21 Jan 07 - My Roommate
20 Dec 27 - Missed Payment
Chapters 18-26 of 26
Tyler's Senior Year posted on
25 February 2023.