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On the Board 3
By Emile, 2010
Usual caveats apply.
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""Cam-my-man, I forgot, we got a lunch meeting with the Charity House trustees today" he said. "Get dressed quick smart, we're late". Cam ambled to the desk, his buttcheeks clenching with every step. Cam was still in his jockstrap as Logan eyed him up and down appreciatively. "Fuck you have a cute arse" Logan said "I'm gonna bust it right open if you keep shaking it like that." He'd been holding out the crumpled suit, and now took the pants back, ripping out the silk lining with one yank. When he handed Cam the pants back, they were just thin unlined linen, barely any cover at all. Cam grabbed it off him, sliding the lightweight material over his muscular legs. "In fact, I don't think such a fine arse should go unplugged. Wait here man." Cam froze, holding his suit pants half way up his thigh, as Logan left and came back a few minutes later, brandishing a fat rubber dong. The flesh coloured monster was at least 10 inches and thick as his wrist. "Here, I think it's Jenny, my secretary, bought it. Her little bottom drawer secret. Hopefully there isn't any cuntslime still on it..." "Please Logan" Cam stammered, involuntarily pushing back with his arse as Logan walked right up and pressed the fat head right against his rosebud. He pushed harder, forcing Cam to grab his ankles so he could get an easy punching motion into his chute. "I can't do it" Cam gasped, not sure himself if he meant the dong, or the charity lunch, or both. "Sure you can" Logan said between grunts of exertion, "half the trustees probably have something wedged up their buttcrack as well. Now push back fuckwad, only three inches to go..." "Oh fuck" Cam thought, his own throbbing python thickening against the flimsy fabric.
Somehow, in changing and washing down the offices, Cam managed to water down enough of the scum on his face and arms to be presentable. Despite his bronco stance from the rubber dong, he managed to strut out with Logan and ease himself into a cab on the pavement. Five arse splitting minutes later, they climbed out again and made their way to the ballroom of the Grand Hotel, just as dessert was being cleared. "Fuck man" Logan spat out, as they gazed into the hall "we missed it. Oh hell, no point in going in now, then the trustees will really have a go at us. Tell you what, since we're out, how about we find you some new clothes to replace those duds you just lost." Cam shrugged, he had no choice anyway. "Hope you got your credit card Cam, where we're going you don't have an expense account!" Logan made him walk fast, several blocks to the north, the dong churning his guts and feeding his leaking dork the whole way. Finally they turned on to Christopher Street and Logan made a beeline for a store. It was an army surplus and fetish store. "Perfect for camping" he exclaimed.
When the door jangled open, the dude behind the counter looked up and hastily stashed the magazine below the countertop when he saw them. Two macho barrel chested men in suits swaggering in, and he must've thought it was a tax audit or shakedown or something. Logan hung back at the door, turning the sign to 'closed', and locking the snib. Anyone passing could still see in if they wanted, but the place was officially 'private'. The dude, who couldn't have been more than 20, punk pierced rebel look that matched the skinhead trashbait porn he had hidden, began rattling off something about having a right to be unmolested. Whatever. Logan cut him off, telling him the only person who'd be getting molested in here was his blonde friend here. The kid quietened down, giving Cam the once over. Cam blushed, more when Logan gently touched the back of his neck, telling him to strip down for the man so he could get properly kitted up. As he stripped down, the kid was mesmerised by his thickly muscled body, his rippling broad chest covered in thick blonde fuzz (the stubbly remnant of his chest hair), his rippled stomach and flexed guns. But more the way his package thrust out of the dirty jock, his perennial half hard even more aroused by the buttplug churning his inside. He stood there in the black jock and socks, like an idiot, as Logan explained how he was going on a camping trip, a special trip, straight from the office, and would need to be kitted appropriately. The kid was a bit confused, openly staring at Cam's wicked body.
"Well, you know, he needs some hard wearing gear, he's gonna be pushing his body this trip, but Cam here wants to show off his body. He's proud of his body, aren't you Cammy, in fact, he's obsessed with it. Go on, touch it, he loves it when another guy feels him up, don't you. If he'd stared Cam in the eyes, he would've seen his silent plea, but the kid was too focused on his amazing body, seemingly open for his touch. He came up, putting his hands on Cam's chest - right over the nipples, mumbling something about an aryan god fantasy. Cam's face was contorted, trying to play along, but hating where this was going. Here he was nearly naked in a shop, for everyone to see, letting some random kid touch his body. Having Miguel fuck him hard had ripped at his ego, but this was different - like a slow and very public wearing down of his resistance to even the slightest humiliation that Logan inflicted. He couldn't shut this out. The kid tweaked his nipples, even rubbing his hand over Cam's bulge, making him moan automatically. Fuck, he thought, he's making me into a man slut. He wasn't far wrong.
Once both the electricity had started up between Cam and the storekeeper, the kitting up took on a whole dimension of humiliation that Cam couldn't have imagined. First, the kid found the most embarrassingly revealing gear that could pass as 'camping' and made him try it on, taking every chance to touch and fondle him, particularly his now heavily leaking stalk. He seemed to delight in 'accidentally' swabbing some of the dickleak through the jock, and then bringing his hand up to his face, shoulders and back, until his own juice was smeared in swathes across his broad skin. Finally Logan was happy with the gear, but not before Cam almost came in his pants, twice, from the kids ministrations. The gear was a big rucksack with thin black shoulder straps and a cross strap, that gripped and framed his pecs, making them jut out obscenely; a khaki mesh tee three sizes too small, so it clung to Cam's skin, and barely covered his pecs, leaving his abs exposed; a pair of camouflage shorts that were so short the leg holes were scalloped above the crotch, so his junk dangled like a low hanging fruit, made of some lycra bike shorts material that made his tackle even more uncomfortable, some thick white socks and heavy leather mid-ankle hiking boots. Logan fished around and added to the collection a thick metal cockring and some 'icy hot' gel, and had the dude ring it up on Cam's credit card. "Oh" Logan said, handing him a magazine from the rack "and take this yourself, on him." he said. The dude kept ogling Cam, barely believing this norse god was willingly letting himself be kitted out so obscenely, or felt up by him. "You like him, don't you" Logan asked, and the kid grinned stupidly. "Tell you what, Cam, why don't you scoot over here behind the counter and give the kid a nice farewell suck in your new clothes, before you change and head back to the office. Cam turned pale, grabbing Logan's shoulder as he turned, begging him not to. "Eh man, want me to tell Mr Miner you were unco-operative?" Cam let his beefy hand drop, and to the kid's delight, he came around the counter, dropping to his knees. The last thing he heard as he dropped down was Logan flipping the sign, unlocking the shop and leaving. But then, the kid had already unzipped, flipping is pale, thickening prong out in front of him. "Yeah you better scoot under the counter" he ordered, pushing Cam's bulky frame under the oak shroud "I can see another customer coming now..." Cam would've replied, but his mouth was already full of young dick.
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