Tricked

Starting Castration By Placing Castration Bands

The door to my room is closed as I lay on my bed, touching my naked body.

My chest is hairless, except for a few wisps around my nipples, which are pinker and larger than they used to be.

I trail my hand down to my stomach, which has lost most of its definition. My penis lies flat and soft, a tiny version of the dick that once was my pride and joy.

And underneath the base of my penis is a small pouch, a flap of skin really. I touch the thin scar that shows where my scrotum was split, my testicles removed.

I stroke my dick with one hand, playing with my tender nipples with the other. My penis swells slightly, expanding to perhaps 3 inches in length. This is as close to an erection as I get these days.

I work my dick furiously, pinching my tits harder and harder. After 20 minutes, I feel a release building as the shaft barely expands. Then a weak spasm of pleasure signals orgasm. I look down and see a small pool of clear fluid, no larger than a quarter, under the tip of my wilting cock.

I weep into my pillow, remembering my proud, firm shaft that used to spray copious jets of white cum all over my chest. Next week I turn 20 years old, beginning my first full year as a eunuch.

It was only six months ago that I answered the personal ad that changed my life forever. I’ve always been attracted to older men, so when I saw he was 42, it caught my eye. The ad said he was fit and attractive, and interested in topping an 18+ boy. It also said he liked ball play.

As soon as I met him for coffee, I knew that Greg certainly didn’t lie in his ad. He looked like he was in his early 30s, and it was obvious he spent a lot of time at the gym. His bright blue eyes and wide smile won my heart right away. When he suggested that we head back to his apartment, I almost jumped out of my chair.

Greg had a beautiful house, very nicely furnished. It sure was a step up from the dumpy apartment I was living in. His bedroom was amazing, with a gorgeous king-sized bed with four posters. Greg came up behind me and wrapped his strong arms around me. I almost melted as he pulled my shirt up and began playing with my tits.

The sex was amazing. Greg was a dynamo, and before I knew it I was on my back with my feet in the air, and his cock buried deep inside my ass. I was so turned on feeling him pump me and hearing him groan in pleasure, that I shot my wad without even touching myself!

He followed a few seconds later. “Here Mark, swallow it all,” he said smiling, as he pulled his condom off and held it over my mouth, letting his semen drip onto my tongue. It was such a turn-on that my cock sprung back to life. Greg laughed and suggested we sit in his hot tub before beginning round two.

I enjoyed the feeling of the water surging around my naked body, but seeing this gorgeous man sitting next to me was more than I could take. After a few minutes, I bobbed my head under the water and began sucking his cock, which quickly hardened to its 7-inch length.

After we got back to his bedroom, Greg went to his dresser and retrieved a leather strap from the top drawer. “It’s time those balls of yours learned their place,” he said, smiling. He pushed me down on the bed and spread my legs, and wrapped the strap around my ballsack. It felt a little tight, but my cock got hard as I saw my purple sack tied up in a little pouch, my balls straining against its sides.

This time he fucked me from behind, with me on my hands and knees. “Fuck yeah!” he shouted, ramming his prick in and out of my hole. Just before he shot his load, he grabbed my bound sack and squeezed it real hard. I shouted in pain just as he cried out in pleasure.

“I hope you’ll get used to having your nuts mistreated,” he said, unsnapping the strap and freeing my balls. “I’ve got big plans for those little guys.” I smiled as I felt the blood rushing back into my sack. I had to admit that the combination of pain and pleasure was a big turn-on.

A few weeks later, I moved my belongings into Greg’s house. The same day, he asked me to stay naked whenever I was home. The idea appealed to me, so I agreed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he said, and I tossed my clothes onto the couch.

“I want you to always wear this around the house,” he said, holding up a leather device. “This is a ball stretcher. I think you’ll like it.” It took him a few minutes, but Greg managed to squeeze my sack into the stretcher, which separated my balls and pulled them down and away from my body. My cock responded instantly, pointing straight up. “Excellent,” he grinned, taking my swollen dick in his hand and stroking it.

As the weeks went on, Greg became more extreme about my balls. He wanted me to sleep in the ball stretcher, and then to wear it when I left the house too. The only time I could take it off was during a shower or bath.

He became rougher during our ball play, too. He loved to squeeze and slap my tied-up nuts until I begged him to stop. Then we began bondage play, where he would tie my hands and feet to the bedposts. One time, he made me lie down so my balls dangled off the end of the bed. Then he attached weights to my sack.

“Fuck, that’s really starting to hurt!” I yelled, tugging at my restraints. “Relax, Mark,” he said. “You’ll get used to it soon. It always hurts in the beginning. You have to work up to the really heavy stuff.”

I didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but there wasn’t anything I could do. My balls were killing me as the weights pulled them toward the floor. He left them on for a half hour, then released me from my torment.

That night I began thinking about leaving Greg. But deep down I knew I couldn’t. I was strongly attracted to him, and we were having the best sex of our lives. And honestly, I enjoyed having my nuts mistreated, even though Greg seemed to go a little far sometimes.

Then I started noticing something that really bothered me. I began having problems during sex. It took me longer to get erect, and my dick wasn’t getting as hard as before. It was harder to keep it up, too.

When I told Greg I was worried about it, a smile came over his face. “Don’t worry hon. Every guy goes through that at some point. It won’t last.”

But it didn’t get any better. Sometimes I didn’t get hard at all as he fucked me, which never happened before. So, Greg got me a prescription for Viagra. That seemed to work, at least for the moment.

Then came the night Greg tried something new. He restrained me as usual, face up and arms and legs tied to the posts. Then he went to the dresser and brought out something I had never seen before. It was silver, with long handles. He had a box with green bands in it too.

“What is that?” I asked nervously, as Greg attached the band to the device and opened it wide. “Relax,” he smiled, moving between my legs. “You’ll love this.”

He grabbed my nuts and pushed them through the stretched band. Then he maneuvered the device until the band was released. Suddenly my sack was banded tighter than it had ever been. And it began hurting like a bitch!

“Jesus, take that off me!” I screamed, bucking and pulled on my restraints. “Mark, take it easy!” he said, kissing me on my sweaty forehead. “I’ll only leave it on for a few minutes. I wanted you to feel what it was like.”

After awhile, my balls were aching less, but my stomach started hurting. That’s when Greg took some shears and cut my band off.

After releasing me, Greg explained that he used an elastrator on me. It was used to castrate farm animals. If you leave the band on long enough, it cuts off the blood supply and kills the balls. Then they just fall off after a few weeks.

“Don’t worry, hon. I would never let that happen to you,” he smiled.

By now, I was really starting to worry about my sex drive. Even with Viagra, I couldn’t seem to keep a good erection. I began wondering if all the ball play was damaging my sexual performance.

Then came the worst day of my life. Greg was out, and I was sitting at his computer looking at the Internet. I just happened to look at his bookmarks, and saw a strange one: The Eunuch Archive. What a shock I got! The site was all about guys getting castrated. And a lot of stories mentioned an elastrator!

“I was hoping you wouldn’t find that.”

I spun around and saw Greg behind me. I tried to get up but he pushed me back into the chair. Then he spun my chair around and threw his arms around me, pinning me down. I struggled, but Greg was much bigger and stronger than me.

It only took a few minutes before I was on the bed, with Greg tying my hands and feet to the posts. I screamed and swore, but he didn’t stop until I was tightly bound.

“Please Greg. Don’t hurt me,” I sobbed as he went to the dresser and pulled the elastrator from the drawer. “I hoped we could have done this an easier way, Mark,” he said, slipping the band over the metal device. “But you’ve forced my hand.”

I bucked and thrashed with all my might, but Greg ignored it. Soon he was sitting on the bed, forcing my sack through the band. Snap! It felt like someone kicked me in the balls. “Fuck!! Take it off! Please Greg!!”

But Greg was calmly putting another band on the elastrator. He pushed my aching sack through the hoop and attached another band to my scrotum.

“I wanted to do this differently, Mark,” he said, sitting down next to me as I squirmed and moaned from the pain. “You see, I was gradually castrating you, killing your balls. It was all carefully planned.

“You were slowly losing the ability to get hard. That was from all the ball play. Eventually, your balls would have been practically dead, and you would have gladly agreed to give them up when I suggested it.”

Greg said that since I was a complete bottom, I didn’t really need my balls. They only got in the way. “Take a look, hon. Your balls are in real trouble right now.”

I stretched my neck and was shocked at how my sack looked. It was a dark purple, almost black. The pain had spread to my abdomen. I never felt so awful.

“Now, it’s your choice,” Greg said. “I could leave the bands on, and your balls would die. But that will take another hour, and that’s a long time to be hurting so bad.”

“What’s my choice then?” I said, tears pouring from my eyes. “Well, I could remove your balls right now. It’s much faster, and in the end much cleaner. Just a few cuts and it’s over.”

It all seemed like a nightmare. But it was no dream. My sack was dying, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. So I nodded to Greg. He smiled and smoothed my sweat-soaked hair. “Good boy,” he said with a smile.

Greg put on a pair of surgical gloves, and got some towels from the bathroom. “Now, this might sting a little,” he said, showing me a small silver scalpel. I closed my eyes and awaited the first cut.

Greg sliced through the center of my scrotum, and pulled my two balls out of the sack. I saw him suturing the stalks holding my manhood in place. Then he quickly severed my left ball free. Dropping the bloody testicle onto the towel, he repeated the cut on my right ball. I was now a eunuch.

That was three months ago. Despite what he did to me, I didn’t leave Greg. I was still totally in his power. And after I healed, we resumed our sexual activities. I began to enjoy the stimulation his hard cock gave my prostate. Every once in awhile I’m able to get a semi-erection, and even cum a little. But Greg says that won’t last much longer.

A Slave Fantasy

Gay Slave in Full Chains and Collar

My past has been wiped out and there is only the present. The future is something i never think about – it is enough that i am alive in the here and now. And that present has a purity and a simplicity that my past never had. i am a slave. i do what i am told. i accept what happens to me. i am content.

i don’t know where i am, whether in a city or in the country as it was part of the contract i agreed to that i would not know where i was going, or who i was going to. i had been selected on the basis of the emails and photographs i had submitted to the agency and told to go to a certain place, at a certain time and wait. It was an hour’s train journey from the town where i had lived, and then a walk of about a mile until i reached the designated spot, a quiet crossroads down a country lane. The instructions had been specific – no possessions other than the clothes i had been directed to wear (jeans, tee-shirt, sneakers, no coat or jacket even though it was winter and rain was falling on me). No watch, either, so i had no idea if i was early or late. Shivering with apprehension so intense that i did not notice that i was cold and wet, i waited for my life to change…

And what a change! i am a slave to a Leather Master who keeps me in chains in a cage in a dungeon and uses me for his sexual pleasure whenever he feels like it.

The first thing he did to me when i arrived was to impress upon me that i am a slave and must never, even for a second, forget this fact. So he shaved my body totally, head, eyebrows, chest, groin, everything; and it is one of my duties as his slave to keep this body in a state of total hairlessness as a constant reminder of my state of slavery.

Then he made sure that, by chaining me with heavy fetters, every movement would remind me that i am a slave. A heavy metal slave collar was welded around my neck, with heavy chains running to metal wrist and ankle restraints, also welded. A heavy ball collar is welded round my balls, pushing them painfully downwards and allowing him to grab them and twist them as a way of controlling me. Apart from these heavy chains i am naked, allowing my Master access to my body at any time. i am trained to present myself to him, to offer up my body to him when he desires it.

i am kept chained to the wall and sl**p on the floor of the cage. The cage is too small for me to do anything other than kneel in it or lie down if i am curled up. At first i had difficulty in sl**ping as the fetters would cut into me if i tried to move too much and the chain from the collar around my neck to the wall is too short to permit much movement. But i have become accustomed to it and i feel safe and secure, like a dog that accepts its new home without question. i eat and drink from a dog bowl on the floor. i am not permitted to eat with my hands but must stick my face into the bowl like a dog.

my nipples and cock have been pierced and rings inserted so that i can be chained in any number of painful and uncomfortable positions when he decides to punish me and discipline me. He also pierced my nose and inserted a ring as a further exercise in humiliation. He says it will serve to remind me that i am a pig slave. Ominous words at the time…. The piercings have not yet healed fully, so that any punishment my Master chooses to inflict on my nipples is more intensely painful as a result.

As a slave, i have no rights whatsoever but must accept that i am a piece of property, owned completely by my Master, to be used in any way he sees fit. i must obey all commands and orders without hesitation, without question; it is enough that he wishes it, no matter what it may be. He can punish me and discipline me whether i have done anything to deserve it or not – it is a high honour that my Master should deign to whip my worthless body or grant me permission to worship his tall leather boots, the symbol of his dominance and Mastery.

my only permitted response to humiliation, degradation, abuse and punishment is one of extreme gratitude to my Master. If i should cry out at any time or be slow in thanking him for abusing me, then i know that i shall be punished even more severely.

i have been systematically and thoroughly trained to serve as his sex slave and i am fully conscious of the honour bestowed on me. my slave training has been severe but i have emerged as a real bootslave, a dogslave, a pig slave, grateful to be the property of such a dominant Master.

When he enters the dungeon, i have been trained immediately to get to my knees, bow my head and wait in a respectful and subservient position for him to unlock my cage. When he has done this, i crawl towards him, begging for permission to lick his boots. He particularly likes to see his slave grovel at his boots. i am often gagged so that i cannot say anything but if i am not then i am only permitted to beg for more punishment, abuse, and humiliation, and especially for the high honour of licking his boots and cleaning them with my tongue.

All utterances begin and end with the word “SIR” or “MASTER”. i am not permitted to use the word “i” but must describe myself in the lowest terms possible as in “SIR, please allow this useless piece of slave shit to lick the soles of your boots, SIR” or “MASTER, this dog turd begs you to piss on it, MASTER”. my tongue is not allowed to touch his boot leather until he gives the command and then i must lick his boots with a proper show of enthusiasm and respect. All my slave training is conducted at boot level, and i am not allowed to stand in his presence unless he is chaining me upright for a heavy whipping.

He wears full leather at all times with a leather peaked cap pulled down low on his brow, so that i can scarcely see his face. In any case, i am not permitted to look at him but must keep my eyes lowered in his presence. He wears skintight leather jeans or sometimes leather breeches with a broad uniform stripe running down the side. As a special favour i am occasionally permitted to run my tongue over his firm leather encased legs and thighs; and sometimes even over his bulging leather crotch, before unzipping the bulge with my teeth and working his cock into my mouth and down my throat.
But his tall black leather boots are my main concern and i spend hours not just licking them but cleaning them thoroughly with my tongue. He will command me to start with the soles. No position reminds me of my status as a slave more than this – i am lying flat on my back while my Master stands above me, one boot raised and pressing on my face while my tongue works on the rough leather sole as it grinds down on me. Then i work upwards, around the rims, over the smooth steel toecaps and up the long expanse covering his calves, sometimes permitted to caress the boots with my hands as i lick them. If he is wearing his hobnailed boots then i know i am in for a hard time -if i do not lick them with enough devotion or attention to detail then he will aim a few hard kicks at my useless body. And he will press down hard on my neck with one boot, grinding the hob nails into my flesh while i service the boot leather of the other boot.

He has a large collection of whips, belts, paddles and crops hanging from the walls of the dungeon and, selecting one, he whips me while i lick his boots. Sometimes he kicks me round the dungeon with his boots while he lays into me with his leather belt. i am ordered to keep trying to lick his boots while he does this. He delights in turning me into a grovelling, bootlicking slave, begging for ever more humiliation, degradation and abuse.

Sometimes he punishes me by locking me in a heavy iron head cage, hanging from a chain in the ceiling of the dungeon. He will crank it up so that i have to stand on tiptoes, my arms and legs will be chained spread-eagled, and he will leave me like that for hours until my muscles ache. Then he will take a whip to my naked back and arse, making me count the strokes and thank him for whipping me after each one.

Whipping a slave excites him more than anything else and when he has finally finished whipping me, he will usually drop the whip and f***e his huge Master’s cock up my arse and fuck me roughly, his hand coming through the metal of the headcage and covering my mouth, forcing his fingers down my throat.

When he has shot his load up my arse, he will pull out, unfasten me from my position, open a door at the front of my head cage, slap me down to waist level and make me clean his dripping Master’s cock with my tongue. Often his cock will harden again while i am licking it clean and he will stick it down my throat, making me suck it hard until he shoots another load. Then i have to clean his Master’s cock thoroughly with my tongue. When a slave is fully submissive, i have discovered, then there is nothing that it will not do no matter how revolting it might have been to its former self. You might say i have been mesmerised to the extent that His desire is quite simply reason enough.

One day he entered the dungeon, chained me firmly to the ground so that i couldn’t move, and buckled a leather plugged gag around my head, filling my mouth so that i couldn’t cry out. Then he lit a fire in a metal brazier and stuck a branding iron into it. i knew what was going to happen to me but was powerless to do anything about it. i simply had to wait in an agony of expectation while the iron reached the right temperature. Then, pulling it out of the fire, he planted it firmly on my arse and branded me with the word ‘slave’ so that all who use me will know what i am. Then, having marked me permanently as a slave, he invited other Leather Masters to his dungeon.

i had to crawl to the door of the dungeon and lie in front of it. When each Leather Master entered, he would use my useless slave body as a boot cleaner, wiping the tall boots on my flesh. Then he would stick his boots in front of my face and order me to kiss them as a sign of my respect. When five tall Masters, some in full leather, the others in full rubber, had gathered, he told them that i am a trained bootslave. Then, slapping me hard across my face, he ordered me to serve them.

Crawling from one to another, servicing their boots, i was used as a boot wipe and boot rest. Some of them were smoking and at a snap of the fingers i would crawl over and open my mouth so that it could be used as an ashtray. They took it in turns to fuck me, slapping me and verbally abusing me as they did so, calling me a worthless piece of slave shit, a dog turd. They gobbed in my face and made me rub it in. Some would pull me up by my collar and order me to lick the snot from their noses; or they would shoot snot into my open mouth.

The evening was an orgy of abuse and humiliation for me, as i desperately tried my best to carry out all the orders i was given by these dominant Masters. Finally, when they had gone, my Master dragged me to my slave cage, kicked me in and, as usual, chained me to the wall and left me lying, my body covered in welts from the whipping i had received. The evening ended as it always does – he walked to the gate of the cage and i crawled over and stuck my tongue through the bars, whimpering like a dog to show how much i wanted to service his boots. As i licked his boots, he jacked off over me, finally leaving me lying in my degradation.

Urinal Boy 6: Service With A Smile

I wasn't sure if I should tell Dad or Adam about my new friend Randy. With my father and brother, my role was always to serve them, but with Randy it was different. We were equals. We understood each other. We had fun. Somehow I worried that Dad and Adam wouldn't approve. It might make them really jealous. But then, I knew Randy would want to service them too, and that they might enjoy having another Urinal Boy around. I was thinking about these things when Dad picked me up from school that Friday. "Get up here in front with me, Jaden," my dad instructed me when I was about to get in the back seat, "and keep your clothes on. For now, anyway. Oh, Adam went off with some of his friends this weekend, so it's just you and me." Soon my dad pulled the car into a parking space in front of a convenience store. I knew my dad had something planned for me, just like Adam did at the gas station a few weeks ago. I looked at my dad's crotch. Sure enough, his cock was straining through his jeans. Did he want me to suck him right in the parking lot where everyone could see us? "What are you waiting for, Jaden? Start blowing, you little fuck!" I unbuckled my safety belt and leaned over to unzip my dad's pants. I took his fat dick in my hand and bent my head down to start licking the head. His dick was a little smelly, so I knew he hadn't showered that day. Secretly I was thrilled to think that people were passing by the car to go into the convenience store and probably didn't even notice what we were doing. It seemed to turn my dad on, too. He was harder than usual, and it didn't take too long before he was ready to cum. Every few minutes I'd poke my head up to see if anyone could see us. Dad would just put his hand on my head and guide it back down onto his cock. "Never mind that, Jaden, just keep your mouth on my dick." When he was ready to cum he began to buck in the seat, spearing the back of my throat. I was getting more and more excited when I finally felt the sticky liquid building up around my tonsils. Then my dad grabbed my hair and yanked my head up, his cum squirting all over my face and getting into my left eye. It stung like a bastard, but I knew my dad would be mad if I complained. I looked up and smiled at my dad, squinting out of my left eye and wiping the cum out of it with the back of my hand. I could feel the rest of the cum dripping on my cheeks, nose, lips and chin. "Okay, Jaden," my dad said, handing me a $10. "Go in there and get me a pack of cigarettes. Lucky Strike." "But Dad, you know I'm too young to buy cigarettes! I'll get carded!" I also had no idea that my dad smoked. "Just do it, Jaden! Get in there and don't come out till you get my cigarettes!" I was just about to wipe my dad's cum off my face with my sleeve when he grabbed my arm. "Don't you dare wipe it off! Go in there just like you are!" Aah, so that was the deal! First it was Adam's trick of throwing away my clothes at the gas station to humiliate me, and now this! I couldn't think of anything more challenging than trying to talk the guy behind the counter into selling me a pack of cigarettes, especially with fresh jizz all over my face. Both Dad and Adam were pretty skilled in the art of humiliation. Inside the convenience store there was a lady buying scratch-off lottery tickets. I went to the magazine section and started looking at the sexy boys in Tiger Beat magazine. I decided the safest thing to do was to keep my face hidden in a magazine until the lady left. She seemed to take forever. When she finally left I approached the cash register, hoping no other customers would come in until I was out of there. Hanging my head down, I placed the crumpled-up $10 on the counter. "Pack of Lucky Strikes please" I mumbled. "Gotta see id." "For my dad." "Told ya, kid, I gotta see id. No id, no smokes. There's no way you're eighteen. And look at me when I talk to ya." I looked up at the cashier. He couldn't have been much more than eighteen himself. He was wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and a hemp necklace. He had short blond hair spiked up with gel and would have been quite handsome if he didn't have very bad acne. Actually, something about the guy's bad complexion really turned me on. It reminded me of some of my brother's friends that I enjoyed servicing, and made him seem kind of raw and sexy. "What the fuck you got all over your face, kid?" I didn't answer him. He looked closer. "Holy shit! Is that what I think it is? Did some dude just shoot a load all over your face? Fuck!" I still didn't answer him. "So you're like a little faggot, right? Like to play the skin flute?" He snickered, then he grabbed his crotch, which was right at the level of the counter. "Bet you'd like to get a piece of this, wouldn't you?" I still didn't answer him. "You want this, don't you? Hey listen, you little homo, if you really want those cigarrettes you gotta come back here give me some real good head! You like that, don't you?" I swallowed hard. I knew what I had to do. "Yeah, I wanna taste your cock!" I told him. "I want you to shoot your load all over my face. Or down my throat. However you like it." "The cigarettes are $7.50 a pack." I handed him the money. He gave me the change, but didn't give me the cigarettes. "Get back here, fag. Come around that way." I was behind the counter and on my knees in a flash. The pimply, hormonal teenager was really turning me on. I loved his smell when I got really close to him. He had a strong body odor coming from his armpits that he tried to cover up with liberal amounts of Axe body spray. The smell of this hot, feral boy mixed with the cheap body spray was really sexy, somehow sexier than either the sweaty pits or the body spray alone. Dad and Adam never wore any sort of cologne or deodorant, so this was a new sensory experience for me. Eagerly I began to rub my face all over his jeans, feeling his bulge pressing against my cheek. At this point things had happened so quickly that I had begun to suspect that my dad had planned this whole thing. Maybe this convenience store guy was one of Adam's friends. When I got his cock out of his jeans, I was a little alarmed at how huge it was. Now don't get me wrong. My dad's cock is pretty big, and I'm usually much happier sucking a fat cock that can gag me than a little weenie, but this thing was unnaturally large for such a skinny kid. But this thing was way too much to handle. "Bet you ain't never seen a cock as big as that, have you?" I hadn't. How big was it? 10 inches, maybe even 11 or 12. "It's huge!" I gasped. So there I was, on my knees behind the counter with all the lottery tickets and Hustler magazines, trying to wrap my hand around this huge, veiny uncut monster cock. I might add that all of the guys in my family, including myself, are circumcised. I know this, of course, because I had been giving Adam and Dad head since I was six years old. But plenty of Adam's friends and Dad's co-workers at the furniture warehouse were uncut, so it wasn't like I hadn't had any experience with an uncut cock before. I usually just slid the foreskin down and licked the cock head like it was an ice cream cone. I tried doing that with this one, but the foreskin was very tight and I couldn't move it at all. I tried a little harder to pull the foreskin down, but it still wouldn't budge. It was stuck there. I gave up because I was afraid that I might hurt the guy. Whenever I'd suck my brother's cock, he'd usually smack me if he felt my teeth or if I sucked his nuts too hard. I didn't feel like getting hit by this guy, so I just decided to go on with the blowjob. So I opened wide and got as much of it as I could in my mouth, which wasn't very much. The guy's cock smelled and tasted great. He wasn't very clean and his cock had a nice, sweaty, pissy flavor. I impaled myself on his cock, but could only get about halfway down. I could smell a strong funk coming from the guy's wiry, reddish pubic hair. I was really digging the smell, so I decided to take his cock out of my mouth and bury my nose in his pubic hair. I worked my nose and tongue down from his pubic hair to his balls, putting the whole sac in my mouth and teasing it with my tongue the way my brother liked. The guy started to moan. I moved my tongue further down between his legs. I could detect the faint smell of shit from his asshole, which I was getting closer to. One thing about my brother Adam, he never wipes his ass really clean. That's why he has all those skid marks on his underwear that I like to sniff and lick when I'm doing the laundry. What always happens with Adam is that he goes around all day after a half-assed ass-wiping and his hole starts to get sticky and itchy. On Friday nights when I rush to greet Adam by crawling naked on my hands and knees and kissing his cock through his crotch, sometimes he'll stop me from worshipping his cock right away. He'll say, "Jaden, give my ass a tongue-wiping first. It's really itchy." I happily lick all the crusty shit and sweat from around his hole until Adam is satisfied. Just from the smell coming from this guy's ass, I knew he had the same problem as Adam. I felt bad for him, having to stand at the cash register all night with an itchy hole and nobody to clean it for him. I put my hands on the guy's hips and tried to get him to turn around for me to access his asshole. "What do you want?" "I wanna lick your ass." "You dig my ass, you filthy little perv?" "I wanna wipe it clean for you with my tongue." He looked irritated. "Okay, fine." He turned around and leaned over on the counter, exposing his ass for me to lick. I spread his cheeks and began working on the slightly hairy hole. I licked from the outside in, sticking my nose in the crack and enjoying the nasty smell. To my disappointment, he got bored with my service to his anus and turned around again. "So far you've been a lousy cocksucker. Can't you do any better than that!" Now I was irritated. I knew I was a good cocksucker. My dad always told me so! I was insulted. I was now determined to show the guy that I really did know how to suck a cock. I licked from his balls, up his shaft to the tip and then opened my mouth wide. I sucked him like a vacuum cleaner. His foreskin still hadn't moved at all by this time, and I was determined to get at his cock head with my tongue. I wrapped my lips around the head and began to wiggle my tongue around the piss slit very slowly. He started to moan, so I kept it up. It took some doing, but I started to wiggle my tonge around between the foreskin and the head. Once I got my tongue in there I was rewarded with a wonderful taste. The flavor was pure, concentrated cock, piss and cum. I was getting a taste of his cock cheese, which had pretty much glued his foreskin to the head. I couldn't get enough of it. I wiggled my tongue in deeper, trying to get as much of it out as I could. It was hard work, but I really wanted to make him cum. He grabbed my head and began to face fuck me. I really love it when a guy does that to me. I was in heaven. Just then a customer came in. Instinctively I pulled away, but the guy held my head on his cock. I realized that probably nobody could see me sucking him off behind the counter, so I just tried to be as quiet as I could, with my lips still around his cock. The customer was some chick who bought some fashion magazines and a scratch-off ticket. She must have been pretty hot, because I felt the guy's dick instantly get harder in my mouth as he flirted with her. I slowly started a rhythm going on his cock, being careful not to make any noise to give us away. I could tell he was enjoying it. He gently started to thrust his hips. I could tell he was also being careful not to give us away. He gave the girl her change and as soon as I heard her leave he began fucking my face wildly. After about 30 seconds I felt his hot cum flooding the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair, pulled my head off his cock and shot his load all over my face. Then he smeared it all over my face with his cock, mixing his cum with my dad's, which had already started to dry on my face. Then he wiped his cock on my hair. I looked up at him. "Here's your smokes, you little turd." He grabbed a pack of Lucky Strikes and threw it at me. I tried to catch it but I fumbled. I picked it up off the floor. I stood up and began to walk through the part of the counter that opened up so the cashier could get in and out. The guy grabbed me by the hood of my sweatshirt. "Where's your fuckin' manners, penis breath?" "Thanks for the cigarettes." He still didn't let go. "That all?" he snarled. I'd had practice with this sort of thing, so I knew what he wanted to hear. Adam and his friends loved to make me say humiliating things after I had sucked their cocks. In fact, Adam and Cole had spent one afternoon making me say the most degrading stuff I could think of into a tape recorder. Adam would usually play the tape whenever his friends came over to get them horny before I had to service them. So it was pretty easy for me to figure out how he wanted to be thanked. "Thank you for letting me lick your ass clean for you. I loved being your toilet paper. Thank you for using me as the dirty cum rag that I am, because I know the only thing I'm good for is to be used as something for a hot guy like you to shoot his load into. Thank you so much for letting me put your beautiful cock in my mouth. I know I don't deserve to service such a fine piece of meat." "Now get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass!" When I got back to the car and gave Dad his cigarettes, he looked at all the cum dripping off my face and said, "I knew I could count on you. You're a good boy, Jaden. You didn't wipe any cum off your face and you even got some more. Now get in the back seat. I want you buck naked by the time we hit Plainfield Road." "Yea, Dad. We're gonna have fun this weekend!" I got into the back seat and Dad opened up his pack of Lucky's. I was curious about when my Dad started smoking, since I had never seen him do it before. He handed the first cigarette to me. "Go ahead, Jaden. You earned it." "But I don't smoke!" I protested. "You do now." He lit my cigarette, and then he lit his own. Then he started the car and pulled back onto the road. "Dad?" "Yes, son?" "Could we stop at that convenience store every time you pick me up for the weekend?" "If you want. I'm sure I can always find something to send you in and get for me."  

Other Parts of the Urinal Boy Series: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Originally posted on https://statdig.com