On the Board

By Emile, 2010

Usual caveats apply.

---

Cam Cross-Miner got ready for the brutal fuck, gritting his teeth and trying to relax his tender arse hole, but there was no easy way to take it, and he still grunted loudly as the 12 inch thumper pierced his battered sphincter.  Miguel was pressing his hands on Cam's thighs, forcing them wide as Miguel's latin cock buried itself another 2 inches into his hole.  Miguel was thick, almost freakishly large, although Cam hadn't seen many cocks until recently, In fact, the six cocks around - and in - him were half the total number of pricks he'd set eyes on in whole 25 years of his sheltered life.  And they were all so big!  He'd though his 9 inch donger was impressive before.  A spurt of precum spitted over his face, stinging his eyes. His boss, Will Miner, was a real leaker, and he was slopping dickleak all over the junior's face.   He'd seen his stumpy log before, in the work washrooms, even in Will's own house, after dinner the night the young stud Cam Cross had asked for Mindy Miner's hand in marriage.  In fact, this had all started that night.

Miguel couldn't force it any further, so he drew back, and rammed it in hard, forcing Cam to scream loudly.  All the guys cheered at that, and hooted when Miguel slapped him across the face for making a noise.  These guys, with their dorks poking out of their expensive suits, they'd been his equals, once.  Fellow executives. But this was a game for them now, and they all dripped and spewed scum across him as they jerked, eyes glued to the action.  More guys were outside his office, on tiptoes looking through the glass.  Everyone could see him getting fucked on his desk.  Of course, Miguel wasn't a colleague of his.  From the look of him, as Will had escorted him into Cam's office this morning, he was a street sweeper or something.  He'd just brought him in, his wrinkled grey hand resting on Miguel's tanned exposed shoulder, and introduced them.  He was just wearing some ripped dungarees, his monster pushing at the flap, bare hairy forearms folded over his barrel chest and a smirk on his face.  Will told him to assume the position, and while he neatly began stripping his three piece Brooks brothers suit, which Will insisted he wear to and from the office for Mindy's sake, Miguel just shucked the filthy denim, revealing the thickening prong that it poorly hid.

Moments later, Cam was in position, kneeling on all fours on his rosewood desk, muscular arms and thighs spread apart, butt facing the two men.  The only clothing he retained was the dirty black jockstrap Logan made him wear.  The jock was old, caked with Logan's loads and ripped strategically to expose flesh, while still trapping the fuckstick tightly in its elastic grip.  But best of all, in this position, the jock strap not only cut two deep lines against his bubble butt, but it exposed his gaping red brutalised hole to the audience inside the room and beyond.  Cam was an all American athlete, with square cut pecs and chiseled abs and a bubble butt  that hugged his football pants all through college games, so there was something perversely satisfying for many of the guys to see him taken down a peg, his muscular arse spread and hole tender.  Many of the crowded executives had played squash against him in the company tournament, and his ripped college tank top, blonde fuzz underarms and profuse sweat made the games feel like school contests, especially all the goading and catcalling Cam used to do "in the spirit of the game".  Guys had really enjoyed going to battle with the Blonde Tank, that is until he started up with Mindy and the games became more serious.  Now, like those thatches of blonde hair, his dignity was gone, and they could openly enjoy him grimacing and clenching as he took the degradation that was served up for him.

Miguel kept shoving his pussystuffer in, jamming it against the slick suctioned hole, but he was too big and blunt to force his way further into Cam's unprepared arse.  He pulled out with an audible pop, and shifted back into Cam's leather chair, his sweaty arse grinding into the seat.  He pulled Cam back over the desk, forcing him from the doggie position he'd been fucked in, down into a sitting position right over Miguel's spic bruiser. Cam grunted and squealed as Miguel bounced him on the head of his cock, forcing him inches deeper each time, although he didn't get much chance before Will's leaky prong plugged his mouth, spewing slugs of baby batter over his tonsils.  By now his own dork was leaking the thin stream of junk into the jock that it always produced, since the boys made sure he didn't come, ever, not a trace of semen in his watery loads, Will's wedding gift to him having been a vasectomy, to make sure he wouldn't knock up Mindy on her wedding night.  They didn't have much sex anymore, Will made sure of that, and Will planned on making sure that if she ever fell pregnant, it was to a better stud than Cam, like Julio, their gardner, who fucked Mindy twice a week in their bed.  Will had installed Julio and his 17 year old son in his daughter's new home to keep and eye on Cam, but the more time went on, the more Will secretly wanted to see his young daughter heavily pregnant with a mixed-race child, with the shame of the secret, and the dread of the revelation at birth.  For now, he was working on getting Julio and his 17 year old son to fuck Cam instead.  He could blackmail them too, if he had to, but he doubted that would be necessary.  Perhaps Cam could even move out to the gardeners hut with them.  The thought made Will leak little spurts of prefuck all over Cam's handsome face.

Miguel was getting excited, and began battering his horsecock against Cam's hole, squirting volleys of precum with each thrust.  Miguel's hairy sweat slicked chest smacked against Cam's back with every deeper thrust, the sweat trickling down with his own to lubricate the brutal fuck.  Cam began grunting from the extreme pain of Miguel's careless banging, but his mouth was quickly plugged by Logan's fat porker.  Logan Hawser was a 33 year old junior partner, and had given him his jockstrap at the first 'special board meeting', after Will told them how he wore boxers to let his cock breathe, since he got embarassingly sweaty and uncomfortable in briefs.  He'd told Mindy some personal stuff in their courtship, and Mindy told her daddy everything.   At the time, Cam was in no position to argue, kneeling naked on the boardroom table, learning the now familiar position, while Logan tentatively fingering his then-virginal arse and the other well dressed men all circled him like vultures.  Logan used his favourite expression - "Hey, got something for you, my-man-Cam", only now the boss' protege had become his plaything, it wasn't a key account or a client lunch, it was the sweaty jock right off his moist and salty sack.  Now he was getting a first hand taste of Logan's funky banana, as Logan pushed the pulsing head against Cam's pouty jock lips, letting the prefuck soak in a little before thrusting slightly forward, splitting them slightly apart so the dickleak could coat his tongue.  Cam had learnt to open wide, teeth back, tongue out, when Logan facefucked him, and Logan took pleasure in slowing down the pace, coating the mouthhole with tangy jizz while he warmed up, before slamming his throat raw at the climax.  But with the hairy latino about to unload in Cam's worthless arse, Logan barely had time to get Cam to clean out his foreskin before Miguel shot, roaring, filling Cam with his spic juice.

Logan pulled out, his dick still drippy, leaving ropes of precum dangling down Cam's clippered chest.  Logan liked the way the blonde fuzz trapped their spunk and spittle, but they all still couldn't wait to take him down another notch and shave him smooth as a baby.  Since the guys could pretty much fuck Cam whenever they wanted, they didn't mind pulling off for a while, dicks still hard and juicing, to maximise Cam's steady humiliation.  This time, as Cam tried to slide off the leather chair, arse still winking vainly, Will and Logan grabbed him under each arm, hauling him onto the rosewood desk so his wet back and sloppy arse soaked into the papers.  As communications director, he had the ironic task of defending the company to the endless housewives that wrote in, and the guys enjoyed watching him repeat the same menial tasks over and over, as each batch of paperwork got ruined by their wanton fucking.  It made for long, hard nights for Cam.

Having pivoted him onto his back, each man grabbed a muscular thigh and an ankle in each hand, pulling his legs up and against his upper body.  Being a rugged jock, Cam wasn't very flexible, and the position was agonising for him, but it brought his arsehole up and over his face, allowing Miguel's hot dickspit, which his rosebud was slowly pumping back out, to drain steadily onto his face and into his open mouth.  He hated the taste, the smell, everything, and regularly choked back puke when they did this, but Logan had taught him to keep his lips open and tongue flat against his perenium, or much worse would come.  As he swallowed the goop, he could feel Logan's dick hardening, and knew it wouldn't be long before he got fucked again.  Sure enough, Logan hurried the process along, moving his thigh hand up until he could dip his finger deep into Cam's trench and scoop out the cum and arseslime from Cam's pussylips, pushing them towards his waiting tongue.  His finger drilled deeper, the start of a finger fuck, and soon he was groaning as Logan's truncheon rose to full mast.  Getting the signal, Will handed Cam's other ankle to Logan, and he repositioned behind him, lowering his arse just enough to rub against his hard, waiting dick.  As Will finished the paltry transaction with Miguel in the background, telling him to drop by someday if he felt horny, while the office began cheers and hoots as Logan lined up his second fuck for the day.  And while Logan's pussystuffer was smaller than Miguel's, he made up for length in girth and sheer animal brutality.

All the men had animals on the mind.  As Logan's wolverine python began prodding at the suckered arselips, forcing the tender flaps to suck his cockhead tight, Will grabbed Cam's green kit bag, and gave it to Miguel as a 'bonus'.  Cam cried out, although as much from the pain of the arse-tearing as the knowledge that the bag, filled with $1000s of bucks of his best casual clothes by Mindy as she faithfully packed for his 'family hunting trip', had just been given away free to some spic hick.  Cam had been losing a lot of his clothes that way - the guys giving his stuff away in the gym, the office - anywhere they stripped him down, an extra humiliation post-fuck that he went a little more naked, or filthy, on his way home.  Truth was, since he didn't have any free time of his own anymore, he was running out of clothes, and excuses for Mindy too.  She offered to buy him more, but her father had put a stop to that, telling her that a man's dress was his business, no matter what he wore.  Now he watched, crushed, as the last of his casual clothes and underwear went out the door on the brawny arm of his sniggering rapist.

There were the tears of pain in Cam's eyes, partly from Logan pile-driving his fat rammer the first few inches into his trench, but more because his new baby brother-in-law, Trent Miner, had just stepped into the room, and was slack jawed at the site of his blonde hero and idol getting pistoned on his executive desk.  Until then, Cam had been the older brother that Trent had never had, and the two had bonded throughout his courtship with Mindy - playing ball, shooting hoops, generally goading each other on with a friendly rivalry.  Trent - always the wiry athlete at school, a natural runner and swimmer - always felt marginalised by the football jocks at school, who just 'tolerated' other athletes, and to be embraced by the older more rugged version of those jocks was the acceptance he craved.  For Cam, it was the family he'd always wanted, Mindy was a sexy vixen when she wanted to be, Trent was his ideal future kid, and Will was, well, rich as Croceus.  Of course, that was all before.  Now, he was trapped.

Will put his sweaty hand around Trent's shoulder, loudly whispering in his ear.  "Told you he was a douche, Trent m'boy, and here it is in the flesh... you wanted him to come on the huntin' trip anyway..."  Cam was torn (literally, but also) with a desire to look away in shame, but also to silently plead with him with his eyes, get Trent to stop his father from his cruel degradation. When Will had began his little torments, he'd been too ashamed to stand up to him, and was desperate to marry Mindy, and now it had bolted past the point of no return.  Cam racked his brain for how to tell Trent this was not his doing, to beg him to make it stop.  But Logan saw Cam was distracted, and served him up a hard whack to the balls to get his attention.  Cam cried out and gasped, and Logan just barked "I said push back fuckjob", and reluctantly, aware how this would look to Trent, Cam gritted his teeth and forced himself to brace against Logan's hard fucks.  He quickly glanced back again at the corner of the room, to see Trent's attitude. If there was a chance, he'd just lost it forever by fucking himself against Logan's pumping prick - Trents eyes narrowed to steely slits, fierce with anger and mistrust.  Cam wanted to do something, but his brain was clouded by the fat choads forcing their way into his arsepucker, and now another sloppy drooling dork slipping into his mouth from his left. As his vision was obscured by a long hairy porker poking through pinstripe slacks, he heard Will sheparding Trent out of the office with a cryptic "now I know your disappointed, boy, but Cam can be useful in other ways, yet.  Let me tell you how the trip will *really* be..."

On the Board 2

By Emile, 2010

Usual caveats apply.

---

Now Cam was getting scared.  Not just of being ruptured by Logan's pile driving dong, but of the accelerating degradation at Will's hands. That first night, when he'd been casually having drinks, he remembered hinting that he and Mindy were thinking of taking it to the next level, and how Will had shot out of his armchair, grabbing Cam in a squirrel grip that made him cry out and drop his whisky in pain.  "You want a piece of me eh, first the job, then my daughter's pussy, now you want in to the family, too?  Cam, unsure what to say, let out a meek "Yes".  Will relaxed his grip, but kept hold of Cam's junk through his chinos, his face turning from rage into a sneering grin.  "So" he said, now sliding his hand around, roughly massaging his junk through the material "exactly how bad do you want to be a Miner?"

After that night, he avoided Will, pretending it was a one-off, still getting about like a big shot in expensive suits at endless social events.  But two weeks later, and coming home late one night, he pulled his Bentley into the drive to see their new gardener, Julio, standing there in just his shorts, waiting for him.  Cam hadn't understood why they needed the muscular worker and his even more musclebound teen son, the garden took barely an hour a day, so they spent most of the time just lounging around working on their bodies and tans, leering at his wife.  But it had been one of Will's engagement presents, so he put up with the humiliation of having the two leering leeches almost under his roof.  Julio was glistening in the headlights, his whole body pumped, and Cam could see a bunch of workout equipment behind him in the garage, blocking the carspace.  He got out of the car to tell him off quietly, before Mindy heard, but Julio just crossed his arms and began talking.  "I got a message for you from your papi" he growled "he said get rid of the car, you get a driver into work from now."  Cam took two steps up the drive, engine still running, and saw Julio's son Clint heaving away at the bench press, also soaked.  "Yah he let us move our stuff here since you won't be needing no garage, and he said you needed to get in shape aswell. In fact, gringo, he insisted, so get rid of the suit, we got some trainin to do."  Cam hesitated, he was pretty solid himself, but not against two muscle jocks.  "Uh, okay, let me go inside and get some gear" he said nervously, figuring he would find an excuse once Mindy knew he was home."  "Fuck no" Julio answered "just strip to your boxers man, you better get used to it, Will said we gotta train you every day, whatever time you get back."  Cam was pretty embarrassed and incensed that he came home to be told what to do by them. Midway through the gruelling workout, Julio was sitting on his thighs, his on package straining to touch Cam's own as Cam did crunches, each rep almost bringing his nose into the cleft of Julio's chest, while Clint stood over, his junk dangling down for Cam to see every time he returned to the floor, as he counted each rep. Then they dropped a bomb.  "Eh Mr C" Clint began "you wife, she's pretty fine."  He broke stroke, struggling to get at the cheeky kid, but he was still pinned by Julio on his thighs.  Julio dug in, pushing him down with one easy hand to his chest.  "Oh yeah, she is fine, whooee. Say, you out on business pretty often Mr C, you wouldn't mind if we brought her dinner one night, would you?"

Of course it wasn't all fucking and suck jobs at the office, they still had work to be done, so when the party was over, the executives left Cam's office a mess of cumslop, and went to their daily activities.  Cam wasn't allowed to clean himself up, or even soak up the dick juice, so he slowly pulled the tailored shirt over his broad back, letting the slugs of scum soak into the cotton, before gingerly bending over and sliding the silk lined suit back over his legs, hefting his stuffed jockstrap into the crotch and fitted arse to squelch against his battered leaking hole.  Will insisted on a full suit for executives, even the fucktrash like Cam, so he laced his shoes and slipped his thin tie around his broad neck, pulling the knot back to the clavicle tight and letting the tie nestle into the cleft of his chest, even though it forced the light shirt to stick to his chest plates like a tissue in gravy. He eased himself back into his seat, trying to ignore the pain and stickiness, and the lingering smell of sweat and cockcheese that clung to his rugged body.  Slowly, he began ungluing the letters, smoothing them out as best as he could, ready to rewrite them.  "We are very grateful for your feedback" one read, "Miner Industries is a family company, that values old-fashioned values...".  It had been part of the exchange for Mindy's hand in marriage and his share of the future profits - becoming communications director, the ultimate company man in public - their mouthpiece.  Worst of all, cum what may, the letters kept rolling in, so his workload was always twice that of the junior loud dick-swinging executives, and his task alone.

Around midday, the buzz grew louder in the hall, as all the executives and secretaries got together for their lunch break.  Slowly the sound ebbed away, and Cam relaxed in the two or three hours silence when he could pretend this was an ordinary job while they ate.  Cam was used to the hunger by now - even though Will had a fat cat's paunch, he thought Cam should have a controlled diet - and his lunches and work dinners were limited to the illegible Swedish cartons that Will stocked in Cam's executive fridge.  That was all he had, in fact - ten brown cardboard cubes a week of this foul gritty tasting viscous milk.  He'd given up trying to guess what was in them, finding nothing on the Internet except worrying blogs about sportsmen who'd sworn off the 'performance enhancers' because of the side effects, or teens conspiring to switch out the cheer squad's milk with it to 'see how they enjoy it'.  And despite the itch that tingled under his ultra-sensitive skin, and the aching 'shrink wraped' feeling his muscles got, he wolfed down the precious liquid as soon as they were gone, eager for the sustenance.  He finished the carton, balling it up and tossing it in the trash with a 'score', indifferent to the splash, just as the janitor's son, who helped his dad clean sometimes, pushed the door open, mop and bucket in hand.

Cam had always looked out for the poor father and son team when he first started working there, and felt uncomfortable seeing the tall lanky kid, so well spoken and thoughtful, in such a demeaning job, treated like trash by all the others.  "Oh Fred, I'm sorry" he mumbled as the young janitor walked in.  "I didn't realise you were cleaning at lunch now, do you want me to clear out of my office for a while?" he asked, convincing himself that Fred couldn't possibly know what the slugs of goop were, or the unmistakable smell.  "No, sir" Fred said, uncomfortably.  "Mister Miner said he'd like you to clean now, told me to bring these up for you special."  Cam looked down at the mop and bucket, rolling up his sleeves with a grin, and shrugging like it was just some kind of hi jinx game.  "Well I guess a man's got to clean his own office sometimes." he commented lightly, reaching out his bare forearms to grasp the handle. Fred held back the mop and bucket.  "No sir.  Not like that.  He said you ... uh ... you gotta wear the appropriate clothes first."

Cam looked at Fred dumbfounded.  What did he mean, he thought, but his questions were soon answered when Fred closed the door and leant the mop against the wall, looking away as he pulled down the shoulder strap of his dungarees.  Cam's mouth went dry.  "Fuck, seriously?"  Fred nodded, still looking away, now dropping his other shoulder strap to reveal a filthy white tee stretched over his dark skin.  "You better get undressed too Mister Cross" Fred said "he said we gotta swap clothes."  "Everything?" Cam asked.  Fred shook his head a little, "Uh, no, sir.  Mister Miner said ... well, since I'm not wearing boxers or anything ... uh, you can keep your underwear sir...".  Cam stripped, watching the lithe young man strip too.  His body ripped like a jaguar, tense and muscular.  When he dropped the dungarees, Cam got a shock - Fred was hung, his fat dork pulsing against his thigh, the head wet.  "Sorry sir" Fred said "I um, leak..."  Cam didn't know what to say, silently handing over his own cumsoaked clothes.  Fred stared at the clothes, and his packed mesh jock, dungarees extended in his other hand.  Taking Cam's cumsoaked rags, he quickly put them down on the desk. "Uh, I might um just stay like this til you're done, sir, if that's okay.  Cam nodded, humiliated, slipping the tee and dungarees on, still barefoot, and taking the mop and bucket from Fred.  "I'll be done in a minute" Cam said, plunging the mop in the steaming water.  Fred folded his hands over his tackle, vainly trying to cover the elongated prong.  "Um, no sir" he responded quietly "Mister Miner said you must start in the bathrooms. He said for you to clean the whole floor."

It was backbreaking work, and he was covered in splashes and sweat when he got to the far end where his office was.  It had taken him over an hour, and one or two of the staff had come back, giving him sly looks.  Most of the secretaries had guessed he was being punked by now, but still, the guys had kept his demeaning fall to themselves, just on the executive floor.  Once the larger company knew, he would be truly fucked.  But for now his problems were local.  His dick kept scraping against the rough fabric, Fred's dickslime mixing with his own inside the crotch.  It was as if he was rubbing against Fred - his pecs against Fred's salty skin, his cock against Fred's cock.  But when he got close to his office, the muffled groans told him maybe that wasn't the only thing slapping against Fred's cock for now.  He pushed open the door, shocked at what he saw.  Fred was crouched on his chair, one bare foot on each armrest, squatting with his muscular arse facing the door.  His arsepucker was slick with sweat, presumably from his thick finger furiously fucking the arsering up to the second knuckle, while his panting and jerking hips meant his other hand was fucking his fist in time. There was a clear string of precum streaming down between his squatted legs, dousing his leather seat in Fred's ball funk.  He stood agape until Logan, standing just out of sight near the door said "Come in", almost making Fred fall of the chair in mid thrust.  "Fred here was just entertaining me while I waited for you to get back. Okay Fred, that's enough, you can get dressed in your real clothes now. "  Leaving his office uncleaned, Cam got the message, shucking out of the dungarees and tee, so Fred could slide the filthy rags over his sweaty mid-fuck body, his thobbing cock jutting out the denim.  The two couldn't look at each other, and he hastily took the mop and bucket and ran. 

On the Board 3

By Emile, 2010

Usual caveats apply.

---

""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.

On the Board 4

By Emile, 2010

Usual caveats apply.

---

Back in the office, Cam quietly stashed his camping gear in a corner, and went back to his desk, anxious to get some real work done.  His arse was still aching from the dong that had been churning inside the whole time sucking in the supplies shop, and in the jerking cab ride home.  At least the kid had given him a new duffle bag after he shot his load down Cam's throat, so when he got into the lobby, he'd quietly ducked into the executive bathroom, locked the door and eased out the rubber invader, wrapped it in a hand towel and stashed it into the bag.  He even snuck a look at his hole in the mirror, and was shocked to see how gaping and red it had become, winking back at him as it tried vainly to close.  These sick fuckers had permanently stretched his hole!  He felt so dirty and abused, there wasn't a part of his body that someone hadn't touched.  He stripped down the rest of his suit, folding it carefully, and finally eased his horsecock out of the constraining black jock.  It was foul.  He stood there naked, conflicted, once so proud of his handsome body, it now also reflected back at him like a big neon target for abuse.  He slipped into the shower, turned the water as hot as he could comfortably go, and began scrubbing himself under the scalding water, willing the filth off his beautiful body.

Sure enough, after a few minutes the shower did feel like it was stripping off some of the manbait that encrusted him.  But then, just as he began relaxing into the water, he heard a scraping sound outside.  He looked through the mist, to see the lock turning, Fred slipping inside, and locking the door behind.  The executive bathroom was luxurious for one person, but felt cramped for two, and Fred was only inches from Cam's head poking out of the shower.  "What the fuck..." Cam began, but Fred just shook his head softly, slipping off the armstrap of his dungarees as he did so.  "Mr Miner - he asked me to keep watch for when you came back."  He slipped down the other armstrap, letting the dungarees fall to the ground.  His tightly muscled body was still shiny with mansweat, and his thick tool bobbed from unrelieved tension, like Cam's.  "Uh, he said first you gotta show me Julio's workout ... um I'm not sure what that means..."  But Cam knew.  He turned off the water and steppd out of the cubicle.  The space was much too small, but he got down onto his arse on the tiles.  "Look man" he began "I just gotta do some exercises, and you need to spot me.  Like push ups and sit ups and shit.   Only, like you keep naked, and squat down real close..."  Fred got the idea pretty quick - there was barely room for the two of them as it was - and there was no way of Cam getting away from Fred's dangling ballbag as be pressed and bobbed and got hot and sweaty again.  All the friction and closeness was obviously turning Fred on something fierce, by the end of the workout his boner was iron hard and dripping, spattering flecks of precum on Cam's face every time he sat up with his arms behind his head.

He was bushed, but as he staggered to his feet, Fred made no move to leave. "Uh, that wasn't it Mr Cross."  Fred's heavy dork bobbing up and down, still leaking.  "He said, um, he said you were a... well, his word was um ... dickwhore ...now, and that I should train you in taking dick if you snuck off or anything..."  Cam still stood there, naked and wet, in disbelief, as the young kid stepped forward, his hardening dick in hand.  "He said I could ... well that I should fuck you  standing, with your leg in the air, like a dog.  Um, and... sorry but ... he said he knows how young and horny I am ... um, and that I shouldn't worry about being rough.... well ... that I should fuck hard..."  Fred had placed the palm of his hand under Cam's thigh and was lifting, guiding his blunt leaking dickhead towards Cam's tender hole as he talked.  He was rock hard - he'd turned himself on telling Cam how rough and dirty he was going to fuck him...  "Mr Cross, you gonna have to hold your leg up like this with one hand" he said, more boldly now, his breath becoming ragged as he pierced Cam's sphincter.  "and you gotta jerk off too with your other hand. 

As he plunged in, he hesitated, reaching around to the back pocket of his dungarees, and pulling out an expensive video phone.  One of Will's, Cam realised, as Fred leaned forward, his greasy stalk sliding forcefully further in as he added pressure, and placed the phone on the basin, screen facing out towards them.  A blinking red light told Cam they were being watched.  Gently turning Cam, so his half buried cocktube was side on to the camera, he grunted as he pushed in hard.  "Sorry Mr Cross, we got to do this jus' until he is happy with the picture, and then he will call me to stop.  Only ...uh, I gotta keep fucking you, big strokes, until he does.  And, uh, you and me, we not allowed to cum...

After maybe 10 or 20 minutes of skewering Cam on his fat cock so deep that he cried out in pain, each thrust, each jerk of his raw red dick, was agony for the hunky executive.  Fred too, was clearly tired and frustrated, his body was slaked with sweat, he grunted from exertion, and he'd become sloppy and careless, every other thrust sending jolts of pain shooting up Cam's hole. Cam jerking off his cock furiously, clenching his teeth trying not to explode, and Fred paused to flick off the water so they could concentrate on the fuck at hand.  The sound of the pile driving fuck filled the room without the water to add white noise, and Cam was sure anyone passing would hear them going at it.  Well, Fred going at Cam. 

Finally, with a moan and a grunt, Fred began thrusting even harder, almost ripping at his arsehole, cursing and jabbing, on the point of orgasm.  Cam squeezed his own swollen cock, manipulating the cockhead until it teased his glans to the edge.  His arse clamped down on Fred's cock, and they both were only seconds away from shooting.  Will's loud voice barking 'STOP RIGHT NOW' from the phone - live all along - was the only thing that shocked them out of splattering the phone with their dickgoop.  They'd sprung a little apart at the noise, and now, both cocks quivering with fuckneed, Fred had to gently ease his fat cock out of Cam's slick chute.  He held Cam's haunches tightly as he withdrew, and the warm tingle of Fred's skin made Cam's own overstimulated dork twitch and drool hard, burning with churning preblast chemistry.  Slowly, their breath slowed, heavy chests heaving in unison with their dicks, milky drool coating both their feet with lubricating fucksauce.

'NOW,' Will's voice came over the line 'I'M IN THE SECURITY ROOM WITH YOUR FATHER FRED, I THINK YOU BOTH SHOULD COME HERE AND TALK TO US...' Fred was ashen, humiliated.  'OH, AND BOYS, JUST WEAR YOUR PANTS, WILL YOU, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU NEED TO COOL OFF...'

Deeply embarrassed, Fred pulled up his dungarees as best he could, careful to leave off the shoulderstraps and tee, his slick dick tenting the front and rubbing against the harsh material.  Cam too pulled on his expensive slacks, leaving slimy trails on the fabric, hs plum dickhead jutting out against his thigh.  He grabbed all the loose clothing and thick arse-ripping invader, shoved them all in the backpack and hauled it over his shoulder - both of them hustling as quick as they could across the crowded lobby, heads down to avoid the obvious looks - and to the security room on the far side.  They were still covered in funky sweat, clinging to their pecs, lathered on their backs, plus there was still dripping spew from Cam's raped cunthole, and his own jizz dripping from his dork.

When they entered the security room, the burly guard smirked, before discretely backing into his lunch room with a nod from Will.  It was just the four of them now - father, son, father-in-law and son-in-law.  Fred and Cam were both feeling intensely humiliated, made worse by the looping track of Fred's fucking on the big screen in front of them, just below the one-way glass that exposed the lobby to their view.  "Lorenzo" Will brayed, clapping Fred's downcast father on the back - "you should be proud of such a stallion son!"  Lorenzo just shuffled his feet, mumbling "Frederico, puto..."  "Ah well, Cam is technically the hired hole, and you should be proud, he is the fucker, there is no shame in that.  Every man needs his bitch, and Fred here is very lucky.  We should be toasting this blossoming engagement - Fred and Cam, stud and his cunthole..."  Both Fred and Cam were even more uncomfortable from this, made worse by their still twitching cocks - fucklust, dirty talk and prostitution all mixed into one.  "Sam, SAM, bring out some champagne, this calls for a toast!"  The guard came back in instantly from just behind the door where he'd been listening, barely hiding his contempt.  "I only got beer Mr Miner" he said, but Will was unperturbed, and took a fresh cold can, embracing Lorenzo's shoulder again, pointing them out as if he'd just sold a prize stallion.  In his glee, he tossed the can up in the air once or twice, before popping the ring for a toast.  In a poorly disguised 'accident', the beer spurted out the can, coating Fred's slick chest with the alcohol, soaking him and leaching down into his grungy pubes.  "Oh fuck" he exclaimed in mock horror, grabbing Cam's head and forcing him down towards Fred's body - "you better suck it all off before it soaks in".  Beer was still flowing out of the can and on to the back of Cam's head, as he was forced to drag down his dungarees to mid-thigh, lap at Fred's washboard stomach, chow down on his engorged arse-slicked throbbing stalk, and suck the beer right out of his wiry crotch.  The spectacle, now in front of the two other men, was intensely worse than before.  "Ah, a true marriage" Will added, at the sound of dick slurp.

Cam wasn't sure what Will's sick mind had wanted out of this, but after a few minutes of tonguing Fred's tingling stalk, nose buried in his ballbag, he leaned down and mashed his face into Fred's fucksack, to 'clean him up good'.  Mr Miner took notice of the rucksack for the first time.  "Ready for camping already Cam?" he quipped, reaching down into the bag as Cam kept munching on the cleft of Fred's legs.  He heard a chuckle, and realised with horror that Will had just found, and was pulling out, the enormous dong from the rucksack.  "Ah, now here's a thing of beauty.  Tell you what Lorenzo, how about you guide that pretty arse of your new son-in-law up a bit, yeah, so he's on his knees - spread wide I think - excellent.  Now how about we finish the ceremony with a bit of 'with this ring' business.  With his ring, you see.  Here, take this, uh, rubber choad, and thread the ring, nice and deep for me.  Now remember what I said before Lorenzo, the future happiness of you and your son depend on this happy marriage.  So part cheeks and lets push that ring home...