Forced Entry

Amish country, Indiana—October, 2014

The text came in at 5:00am.  Really?  So soon? 

I squinted at the screen:  “Will you be joining me this morning?”

I grabbed my reading glasses and sent back a “yes.”

The phone binged again with another message—one sent before he could have possibly read my answer.

“Address I gave you.  @ 6am.  Look for the open window.”

The person giving the instructions was Bill, a versatile man who has appeared a number of times in these posts.  He is mid 40’s, with a shaved head and a fat dick.  And he is the most sadistic top I know.  He had a new sub.  A man who craved sex that he would feel for the rest of the day.  And Bill wanted me to help give the man something he’d remember. 

We were “breaking into” his house and “raping” him.

I didn’t bother to shower.  I dressed in my dirtiest jock and zipped myself into my flight suit.  I was going to make it a zippered fuck.  No fumbling with taking off boots and jeans, nor tripping with clothes down around my ankles.

I was working here in Northern Indiana for a few weeks.  I had mapped out the way to the “victim’s” house.   It was not far, but out in the country.  My headlamps cut through the early morning fog.  I was in my own corn maze as I went through field after field of brown and withered cornstalks.  And then I saw the number on his mailbox—big reflective numbers no trick could miss.

I parked behind Bill’s pickup.  He was here before me.  I got out, making sure I had nothing but lube in my pockets.  I went around behind the house as instructed.  Sure enough, there was a low window open.  I looked through it.  The room was dark save for a shaft of light coming in from the bedroom’s doorway.  I could quite clearly see the man on the bed and Bill in front of him.  The man was on all fours his ass towards the window.  Bill was fucking his thick cock into the man’s mouth.  The man was whimpering and doing his best to take the dick.

“Suck it, faggot.”

Bill saw me.  He held up a finger—signaling for me to wait a second.

“Get my dick good and wet.  It’s going up your ass.”

Bill pulled out of his mouth.  “Now turn around.  I’m taking your ass.”

The man complied.  His head was buried in his arms.  Bill grabbed his hair and pulled him up so he was on all fours.  At that moment the man saw me at the window.  He yelped.  Bill slapped the hapless man’s ass and entered him roughly with no more lube than the spit left on his cock.

And I climbed through the window hearing nothing but the man’s whimpering and the slap of Bill’s hips against the full butt.

I stand before him.  Bill still holds the man by the hair, forcing him to look at me.  I pull the zipper of my flight suit down slowly. My neck, chest, waist and finally my crotch are revealed to him.  My cock is swollen, making the dirty jock look particularly obscene.  I grind it into our victim’s face.  He inhales with one long breath.  He starts licking at it like I’d just given him poppers.  I work my balls free of the pouch.  He worships those, leaving them awash with saliva.  I push the head of my dick into his mouth—still in the jock.  He gags—but with his eyes shining with lust.  I peel the damp pouch aside.  My cock springs free and slaps him in the face.  He whimpers again.

“Fuck his hot mouth,” orders Bill.

I do.  Soon, Bill and I are thrusting into him in rhythm.  I finally pull out of his mouth.  A long strand of that thick saliva still connects us.  My hand catches it and I smear it on the victim’s face.  He grunts and his head hits the mattress.  I thump the back of his head with my cock.

“Take his ass.”

I turn him roughly so Bill and I don’t have to move.  “Clean his dick, fucker,” I bark out.  The victim gets Bill’s thickness into his mouth, just as I line my cock up with his puffy, used hole.  I insert.  One long stroke.  Balls deep.  And hold.  The man in the middle grunts and begins to whimper again. 

I am fucking fast and hard.   It’s all about me.  And the man doesn’t want it any other way.

Bill has pulled out of his mouth.  He slaps the man, telling him to shut up and take it.  When that doesn’t stop the noise, he rummages around on a night table, pulls out a sizable butt plug and shoves it into the man’s mouth.  The noise stops.

I keep fucking.  Bill twists the butt plug out of the victim’s mouth, turns around and grinds his butt into the man’s face.  I guide his head so his tongue is going right up Bill’s shit hole.  Bill strokes himself and calls him a faggot again.

We turn him once more.

“Taste your ass," I tell him.  

Bill puts the plug into the man’s ass.  Then adds his own cock alongside it.  The man arches his back, pulling off of me, and howls.  But he takes it.  He even mutters a “Thank you, Sir.”

When Bill pulls out, I turn the man in the middle once more.  I pull out the plug and toss it to Bill.  He feeds it to the victim.  I spit on his hole and sink in.  “I’m gonna shoot,” I announce. 

I do.   It’s not a big load, but a damn satisfying one.  Bill gets off the bed for the first time.  He comes around and pushes into the cummy mess I’ve left.  In three swift strokes, he shoots deep into our play toy.  Bill holds for a moment, then pulls out.  He grabs the plug.

“Wear this to work,” he tells the man as he slides it into the slimed hole.  “Keep our loads inside you all day.”

The man, plug in place, curls into a fetal position as we dress.

I go out the window first.  I have one leg out when I hear the used man on the bed whisper to Bill “That was the best.  Thank you, Sir.”

And I drive away, back into the fog.