The moon was bright enough to overpower the single elderly streetlight in the car parking area, and the crickets were chirping in full force. The air was summer night warm, the car windows were open, and I was sitting, listening to some fairly boring political talk show on the radio.
It was just after full dark, and I had come out to a fairly secluded rest stop, hopeful and horny and cautious, looking for a trucker I could kneel in front of long enough for him to come in my mouth. It had happened there before, and even though my good sense said that I should be home, thinking about going to bed, there I was, waiting.
Again.
I was an average guy with an average life and an average job that I really needed to make the mortgage. I happened to be homosexual, but pretty much nobody knew it except for my gay buddies. I blended in really well; sounded straight, looked straight, but I had a couple of hobbies that were pretty damned gay. Putting the sweaty dicks of straight truckers in my mouth until they came down my throat was one of them.
I was hoping to find a driver who "needed some help with that" but the only other man I saw there in an hour's time got out of a 20 year old Chevy and hobbled up to the restroom with his elderly wife.
There were a couple of trucks, one of which was idling, but either the drivers had left them there for the night, or were sound asleep. I had been at work all day, and I must have been pretty tired myself. The voices from the radio became fainter and unintelligible, and I must have drifted off to a semi-sleep.
Until I jumped and yelped like an eleven-year-old girl when someone shined a very bright light at me and said "Wake up, wake up now".
I must have been asleep for an hour. I literally rubbed my eyes, and looked up to realize that it was a cop-I could tell by the uniform shirt. I couldn't really see his face because of the flashlight, but his voice and stomach told me that he was middle-aged.
I was just swimming back to full consciousness, when he held up an empty pint of some kind of cheap liquor and said "This was right next to your car door". It was a flat-voiced accusation.
"What?" It took me a full 30 seconds to get what he was saying.
"Wait....I haven't been drinking, officer, not at all. Not one drink"
"Then where did this come from?" Again-pretty much no emotion, just a flat statement question.
"I have no idea, but you're welcome to give me a breathalyzer test....I mean it" I sounded really confident, but I was just a little worried, not because I wouldn't pass the test, but more because I wasn't sure I had a registration or insurance in the glove box. I'd always been a little sloppy about that, and that was stupid, considering what I was really doing there in the first place.
"Why are you here?" He wasn't friendly.
"I was on my way home from a work thing about 20 miles north, and I was exhausted. I didn't want to drive when I was sleepy, so I pulled in here. Isn't that what a rest stop is for?" I figured I would just bluff my way through it, and my voice sounded pretty damned convincing to me.
He was looking around the car, sweeping the ground with his flashlight. I could see he was probably nearly 55, a little soft in the middle, but still a good looking guy. Gray hair, a gray cop mustache, great big hands with a wedding band, and a very visible gun in an unsnapped holster on his hip that kind of fascinated me.
"You work out this way?" "No, I work pretty close to my house, but I had to drop something off for my boss".
His voice got a little friendlier. "My commander just asked me to drop some paperwork off after I was off the clock a few days ago. Pain in the ass, but I wasn't going to say no. Do they make you come way out here often?"
I got more confident, he was being somewhat human, and I thought for the first time that I was going to snow him and be on my way. "No, actually haven't been out this way for work at all before. Really don't know the area. My boss isn't a bad guy, and I don't mind running errands for him once in a while".
The cop kind of slowly looked down at me and said "If you've never been out this way, then why have I seen you here at least 5 times after dark in the last 3 months?" in a tone of voice that told me I was in real trouble.
I just looked up, with my mouth kind of open.
He opened the driver door, and motioned for me to get out. "Keep your hands visible, please". And even though there was a "please", there was nothing polite about the order.
He put his hands on my shoulders before I had really gotten out of the car, and spun me around. "Put your hands on the roof of the car and don't move".
I was not going to move, not an inch.
He shown his flashlight around the interior of my car, then got in and started it. I couldn't figure what he was doing....I had a half-thought maybe he thought that the car had to be running to open the trunk. But instead of popping the trunk, he rolled the windows up, and turned the engine off, and then, surprisingly-handed me the keys. Again, I thought-"yes! he's letting me go".
"Put those in your pocket" I took my hand back off the roof and complied. "You don't have any weapons on you, do you?". It wasn't really a question, more of a statement; he knew that I wasn't the type to be carrying a gun.
He was behind me, out of my eyeline by then, and in an instant, he roughly grabbed my right hand off the roof, then the left, and I felt handcuffs roughly snap onto my wrists. His huge hand was halfway around the back of my neck, grabbing me hard, as he spun me around and said "Come on, asshole, let's go".
He put me into the back seat of his car; I figured he was going to run my license and plates. But, instead of radioing in for information on me, he started the car and put it in gear. We headed out of the rest stop onto the lonely highway, heading west.
~~~~~~~
The back of that police cruiser was old vinyl upholstery that was cracked and flaking and uncomfortable as hell with my hands handcuffed behind me. The whole car was at least 5-6 years old, but it ran fine, and he drove down the highway almost silently after radioing some jumble of numbers, apparently to a dispatcher that I couldn't hear.
"Officer, please-what am I being arrested for? I didn't do anything, except for falling asleep in my car"
No acknowledgment. No answer. Not a twitch out of him.
"Isn't that what a rest stop is for? For real, I have not been drinking. You can do a blood test if you want"
Nothing.
"Can I just get my phone out of my pocket? Just to call and let someone know I'm okay? Please?"
I could hear my voice getting a little annoying, even to me.
He drove for a minute, then pulled over onto the shoulder of the nearly deserted road.
"What pocket is your phone in?"
"My pants pocket-I'm pretty sure I can get it..." and as I leaned forward to try to maneuver my shackled hands around to my front pocket, he hit me out of nowhere- flathanded, broadside of my head. Hard. Really hard, and I saw black just for a couple of seconds before I realized what had just happened.
"Listen, fuckhead...I don't know if you get it, but you are in real trouble. I know what you've been doing at the rest stop, I've been surveilling it for at least six months, and you have long been on my list."
"Remember the guy in the red semi last week at the back of the lot? Big guy, Alabama plates? I was in the bushes not 20 feet from right where you two were, and I watched you in the shadows at the back of his truck while he was apparently choking you with his pecker."
Oh yeah, I totally remembered that guy. A big bubba guy with a big dick. He was a straight truck driver, so even though he was ugly as hell, I was glad to service him.
"I was watching, right behind you, fag...I saw everything, I heard him grunting when he came down your throat, and if I remember right, when he got done with you, he called you a fag too."
Yeah. That was true. He had. "Did you like the taste of my cock, you stupid fag?"I had gotten off on that, kneeling on the asphalt, wiping my mouth, while this ignorant truck driving motherfucker had told me what he thought of me after I finished giving him a first-rate blowjob. He had also wiped the come off of his dick by using my face as a towel. I had jacked off to the memory of that guy at least twice in the last week.
The cop looked at me with genuine disgust. And then he spit right at me. On me. In my face. I didn't even have time to duck.
No one had ever done that to me. I was unable to say anything, I just looked at him.
"Like I said-you're in trouble. Trouble like you don't yet understand. Do not think that you're going to bullshit your way out of this one. Take my word, it ain't gonna work-not tonight. You're going to remember tonight for the rest of your life"
"But you need to know this....if you do what you have to do, and you do what they want, you're going to live through this. Do you understand me? Do what you're told, and you'll live. You won't be okay, at least not right away, but you'll be alive".
He meant what he said. I could see it in his face.
"And sometime later tonight, you had better crawl over to me and say "thank you". By that point, you're going to know what you're thanking me for. Got it?"
I stared at him-I wasn't really processing much of this. I just knew that I was in bigger trouble than I had ever been in my life. Real, life-threatening trouble. And I was scared.
"Okay, sure. I promise, I will".
"Say "sir", asshole. Tonight, you're going to say "sir" to a lot of men... if you can talk at all"
I said it right away, quietly. "Yes, sir".
He nodded, turned around and put the car back into gear. I looked for the door handles to see if I could get out of the speeding car. I was ready to jump, even at 65 miles an hour.
There weren't any.
~~~~~~~
We pulled off the highway, and further away from anything like civilization. It was basically green backwoods, and every once in a while I would glimpse a light or two that told me there were people living there, but we didn't seem to be coming closer to any city or town. And after about 15 minutes, we pulled down a long gravel and dirt road that was one step better than a trail.
"We're not going to a police station, are we?"
The cop surprised me when he actually answered. "Nope, but you already knew that, didn't you?"
"Where are we going?"
"You're going to be there in about 2 minutes. Remember what I said...."
We pulled up to a grayscale hundred-year-old ramshackle house that probably hadn't been painted since the 1940's. It reminded me of the hunting cabins back home, but it was much bigger. There were at least 8 good ole boy trucks of various vintages and another police cruiser parked in the big, circular gravel driveway and on what passed for a lawn. There was also a dark, late model Mercedes with out-of-state plates that looked completely out of place.
A mosquito light on a pole zapped bugs loudly. I could hear what I thought was music and a voice from around back, but I couldn't make much out.
The cop pulled me out of the back seat pretty much by the front of my shirt, putting his hand on the top of my head like I'd seen television police do. He held onto me by my handcuffed wrists while his other reached around to my front pockets.
He pulled out my phone and said "You're not going to need this" and put it into his pocket.
I made a protesting noise.
He jerked the handcuffs backward, hard, and slammed his hand quickly onto my crotch. That hand found my balls, and started to squeeze them, slowly but intensely.
"You're really not going to need these either, if someone decides you don't. Shut up, now"
He was squeezing harder now and I started to gasp from the pain.
And he smiled-it was the first smile I had seen from him. Just a little smile, but he was definitely enjoying himself. He continued to increase the pressure, and I found myself doubling forward, verging on agony.
"Don't rip those offen him yet, Clete." A voice came out of the darkness, and I heard footsteps on the gravel. A short, muscular 35 year old hillbilly-looking guy came toward us, lighting a cigarette as he walked.
Shirtless and in jeans and boots, his upper torso was covered in tattoos. He was actually probably good looking, but it was hard to tell behind the huge beard and a pair of gas station sunglasses.
Absurdly, all I could think of was that the mosquitos must be all over him, without a shirt on this 75 degree summer night.
"Who's this?" He looked me up and down, and when he spoke, I saw that he had a missing upper tooth. '
Clete responded: "Does it matter?"
The hillbilly laughed "It might matter to his mama...."
"Well, she ain't going to be here tonight, but he might end up yelling for her anyway, ya think?" I noticed that the cop's voice was becoming more country. as if this was where he belonged. They both laughed.
"Where'd he come from?"
"The truck stop out on 8. I seen him there a couple times. The truckers seem to like his company-and he sure likes a mouthful of them coming down his throat"
Hillbilly turned to me and said "So, you like fellas, huh? And you like other fella's dicks, right? You're in the right place then. You're going see mine up close here in a couple minutes, I promise, and Clete's here too, and maybe one, maybe two others"
At the mention of his cock, I found my eyes drifting down to the front of his jeans. Even though I tried to stop myself from doing it, I couldn't. It was just a long-time learned response.
There was definitely a big old country boy dick behind that worn blue denim. I could see it going down his short little leg, and the jeans were tight enough that I could tell where it ended just before mid-thigh.
I looked up and saw that he had followed my eyes down. He slowly up looked at me with a snake-like smile that just kept getting bigger. That missing tooth made him somehow look even more male, and definitely more dangerous.
He moved his hand over his cock, just a little.
"You want to see that hogleg, boy?" He laughed. "Oh yeah, you're for sure in the right place. You're going to see it so close you can taste it. Let's bring him on along behind, Clete...the boys are back there drinking"
Each of them took an arm and started walking me to the rear of the property.
We walked around the back of the house, and as we came around, it took a minute for my eyes to focus after the darkness of the front yard. When they did, I could see that there were about eight or ten men with beers and solo cups in their hands., sitting in lawn chairs and camp chairs and at a rickety picnic table covered in liquor bottles and potato chip bags.
There was two or three more men around a great big fire in a firepit, unnecessary on that warm, humid night.
These were the kind of men who made their livings with heavy machinery, or fixing cars, or maybe quietly making methamphetamine in their elderly relative's garages. Broad shoulders and big upper torsos, wearing give-away t shirts from the convenience store and work boots and haircuts that their wives would do at home. Most of them were white, the rest were Hispanic or something darker like that. Two of the Hispanic guys looked like a father and son to me-they were definitely related in some way.
There were two men in their 60's, both gray and coarse, but still obviously healthy and strong, sitting together, one wearing overalls, the other with a long gun across his lap.
The low-pitched chatter stopped for a second as they all turned to look at me. The only noise was the Outlaw Country music, pretty low on the boombox radio.
In the darkness beyond them, I thought that I saw another man. He was maybe 40 or so, with brown hair turning gray and an expensive haircut that stood out against all of the good old boys' long hair and ponytails.
His glasses were slightly askew, and he was wearing a suit jacket and tie. Then I realized that he naked from the waist down. He was roped face down over the end of another picnic table. His legs were tied open onto the table legs, with his bare ass facing toward the lake south of us.
He was panting rapidly. His eyes were huge-and terrified.
The cop stepped forward, took my phone out of his pocket, and threw it into the firepit.
I didn't make a sound.
I could hear footsteps, and felt someone behind me; he must have come from inside the house. His deep, gravely voice said, loudly, so everyone could hear:
"Yep, he'll do...he'll do real good. Good job, Clete".
I tried to turn, to see who he was, but the cop and the hillbilly held me tightly in place.
He spoke to me, but in a voice that all of the men could hear. "So, fag boy....." he paused for a long while, and they were all quiet.
"Y'all wanna do some buttfucking with a bunch of nice fellas, son?"
The cheering sounded like 50 separate men to my ears, and a couple of them started slowly to their feet, coming toward me.
And Hillbilly quietly leaned into my ear: "Welcome, little brother. This here place is probably hell, but I guess for someone like you-if you behave-it might be heaven. For a while, anyway...."
~~~~~~~
The voice behind me said "Hold up a minute here, you guys. I think we're gonna have a little fun before we start in on this one." as he walked around and came into my view.
He was another cop, in a different uniform, the county sheriff type, with the uniform shirt wide open to reveal a big broad chest covered by a very sweaty undershirt.
Huge. Just huge. 6'3", maybe more, 280, mostly still muscle. Younger than I would have expected from his voice. And he could not have looked more like a country cop, most probably with a fat wife and at least four little kids somewhere.
Officer Clete said "What've you got in mind for him, Sheriff?"
"Is he gonna be trouble? Has he got much fight in him, Clete?"
"He's a little mouthy, but I think that the situation is sinking in pretty quickly now, boss"
He walked over and put himself directly in front of me.
"What's your name, you piece of shit?"
I looked up into his face. He was looking at me like there was still semen running down my face from every man I had ever blown.
"My name is Brian, sir"
He leaned in toward me, and put a huge hand on my shoulder, like a coach would do to a favorite high school football player.
"Nope, it's not. Not anymore. But you've still got a name, little dude...you're "the fag" from here on out" He smiled; he liked this.
I sure as hell wasn't going to argue with him; I'd been called a fag before this by a couple of straight men, including the trucker last week- and down deep, there was a big swath of me that liked the degradation of that more than a little bit.
"Say it out loud, Brian.....Say "I am "the fag", and you guys are going to do whatever the fuck that you want to me tonight"
I said it. "I am the fag, and you guys are going to do whatever the fuck that you want to me tonight". I was scared-really scared, because I knew exactly what this meant. And as it came out of my mouth, it was not much more than a cracked whisper.
He leaned in closer, and I could smell cigar smoke on his breath "Now, say it real loud, so that every man here knows what you are, and what you're here for, faggot". And he quickly lifted that huge hand, and smacked me upside the head so hard that I saw blackness and a fleeting thought said "you're going down" before I literally shook my head to clear the gathering stars. I steadied myself on my feet, swaying.
He stepped back and motioned to the crowd of men, drinking and leaning forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that one of them had already pulled his pants down to his ankles and was lazily stroking his good-sized cock. He grinned and pointed to it, like "get over here and get on this, boy".
The Sheriff put his arm around my shoulders, and said "Say it.....real loud now".
"I-I am the fag, and you guys are going to do....whatever you want to me tonight". The last words were so thin they were barely audible. I realized that I was shaking.
The Sheriff grinned at his boys. They whooped out loud, a couple of them stomping the dirt.
He actually hugged my shoulders with that giant arm and said, so that all of the men could hear "I'm not sure that that poor fella on the picnic table back there heard you, fag. Say it again, louder".
I gulped in air. "I am the fag, and you guys are going to do whatever the fuck you want to me tonight". I was surprised at the sound of my voice-it almost sounded confident.
The men were getting a lot of enjoyment out of this, drinking and pointing and laughing, and getting to their feet.
"Now, what we're all gonna do to you tonight is make you our "special friend", fag. You're gonna be treated like the shit that you are, and you're gonna take it all, and you're gonna pretend like you like it, got it?" I shook my head yes....I don't think I could have made an actual sound.
"Now, it's time for you to take your clothes off, sweetheart, so these boys can see what they're gonna be cornholing" He looked at me, and I must have looked kind of blank, because he hauled off and hit me with that big right hand again. I staggered, and went down on one knee. He grabbed my ear and pulled me to my feet by it as I yelped in pain.
"Strip-now, and make it fast, asshole".
I started to unbutton my shirt, but he literally put both his hands into the front of the shirt and ripped it open, leaving the fabric torn wide open and half the buttons still in their buttonholes. I realized that if I was going to leave there alive, it probably wouldn't be in the clothes I was wearing.
I thought to myself that I didn't want to lose my shoes so that I could run if the opportunity came. Luckily, I was wearing old cargo shorts -so I unbuckled my belt really quickly and dropped my pants, stepping quickly out of them. I didn't even care about the car keys in the pocket....there was a big part of me that thought I was never going to see that car again anyway.
That was when I realized that I wasn't wearing underwear. Not that it mattered-I wouldn't have been allowed to keep for more than another 30 seconds anyway.
And there I was, standing buck naked (plus shoes) in front of 15 drunk, dangerous, horny, hillbilly men who had brought me there specifically to gang-buttfuck me.
The Sheriff put his hand around the back of my neck, and held it tight. He had me by 100 pounds; I wasn't going anywhere.
"Gentlemen-he's gonna be a busy little fucker for the next few hours, ain't he?"
A voice with a Mexican accent from somewhere near the fire said "I want firsts, before he's all stretched out" And one of the other Mexicans chimed in and said "You better hope for first, Mario-with that little dick of yours, you're not going to feel anything at all if you're second" and the men around me laughed.
I looked over, and saw that Hillbilly had taken his enormous dick out of his jeans. He was looking at me with a beer in one hand, and his cock in the other hand. He was laughing at me, and there was a little stream of pre-cum drool that fell out of the long foreskin toward the ground.
And even though I knew the danger I was in....I started to get hard myself.
Hillbilly looked at the Sheriff and said "Hey, Jed...." and pointed to my dick.
"Motherfucker...." the Sheriff just looked down at my dick, then up at me. "I don't believe that we've ever had a fella who got hisself hard at the thought of what was gonna happen to him here. Most all of them are pretty much crying by this point, son."
"I guess maybe tonight, you're gonna get everything you ever dreamed about while you was tugging on that thing. Maybe you should try and stay conscious for it all, right?"
Hillbilly laughed at that, and said "He can't take on all of these fuckers, boss. Even if he's a pig, he's still a human pig, and he wouldn't make it through half before he was near enough dead. We still got the lawyer over there, and he ain't been used at all yet....Cepting Del tried to get him to suck his dick. That didn't work much, so Del took to him with a board across his ass for about 15-20 minutes just afore you got here. You should aheard him screaming and crying-it was pretty fucking awesome"
The Sheriff smiled a little at the thought of the other man's pain.
"We'll be fine between the two of 'em. Maybe that lawyer fella Alex don't know how to suck on a dick-yet- but I'll bet this here little faggot knows just what he's doing"
He turned to me "You ready to have a great big cock down your throat, fag? What the fuck am I asking, of course you are" He yelled across the group and said "Hey Del, drag Mr. Lawyer on up over here, will ya?"
Del was close to the table where the expensive looking man was held, and quickly undid the slipknots holding him, tying his hands together behind his back. He yanked him to his feet by his suit collar, and marched him forward.
The guy looked like every 45 year old faded handsome college jock with a artificially pretty wife and kids in college. His shirttails covered his genitals, but his ass showed the start of the bruises he was going to have tomorrow from being beaten with a paddle.
The Sheriff grabbed his tie, and yanked on it, throwing the lawyer off-balance. He fell forward, and with his hands tied behind him, went facedown into the dirt at the Sheriff's feet.The officer planted one black boot firmly onto his upper back.
"Did I hear that you wouldn't do as you was told, Mr. Lawyer? That you didn't want to help out your fellow man, and suck on poor old Del's pecker?"
Del chimed in "I got it in there after I smacked him a couple of times, boss, but he just let it lay there, wouldn't do nothing to keep it hard or anything"
"That true, lawyer?" The lawyer lay on the ground, pinned by the Sheriff. He said nothing.
"You all are the first lawyer I ever heard of that don't have anything to say for hisself. If I were you, I'd make my case right about now". He took his foot of Alex's back, and reached down to pull the man out of the dirt to his knees.
"Go on, Del-pull your cock out and let's see Mr. Lawyer get to proving that he can make an oral argument for why he wants to get facefucked by you".
Del dropped his jeans to his ankles, and started pulling on an impressive, dirty looking cock, right next to Alex's face. Alex looked directly at the dick that was going into his mouth in a moment, then turned and looked up at the Sheriff, finally finding his voice.
"Please-stop this, please" he said to the Sheriff "I have some money, pretty much a lot of money actually, and I can get it for you, and no one has to know anything. I won't tell....I can't...." and his voice broke a little. I looked up and saw his eyes, just slightly blank behind his glasses- and I realized that he was probably in some kind of shock.
The Sheriff just looked at him. And his smile widened as he reached into his upper shirt pocket and pulled out a cigar. Then at his deputy.
"Clete, give me that thing over there, would ya?" and he gestured toward the back wall of the house. "and grab the bucket next to it too".
He unwrapped the cigar as the lawyer decided to go on "I'm not gay, I've never done anything with a man in my entire life, and I don't know why I'm here. I shouldn't be here...maybe he should be here, but I shouldn't be here" he said, his tied-up body gesturing toward me.
Del moved forward, and started to rub his hard cock head against Alex's face and lips.
The Sheriff just smiled a little more as he lit the cigar slowly, and said to him "You know, you might be right...maybe you shouldn't be here. As a matter of fact, I don't know why we pulled you in tonight. We were just trying to find us some of these here gay boys to take out a little aggression on, not a good family man like yourself"
The men were all listening to this, and I heard one of them snigger, but the lawyer didn't hear it at all, he just went on, talking in a strange combination of excited and completely flat words.
"Exactly, I know that you didn't really mean to hurt me, and I could go, and not say anything, please, please, could I go? I need to be back at the office in the morning, and I could go straight there, and take a shower...."
The cop handed the sheriff something from the house and set the bucket down at his feet-and as he did, the sheriff stopped the lawyer mid sentence by holding up his hand.
"Alex, if we let you go, do you absolutely promise that you're not gonna tell anyone what happens here? 'Cause you know, if you're going to tell, we just can't let you leave...you understand why, right?"
A flicker came back into Alex's eyes-I saw it, like it was an almost physical flame. I knew that flicker was misplaced hope, but he didn't. Not at all.
The men around had mostly gotten up, and came closer, silently listening to the negotiations between the two.
"Yes, of course. I mean, after what's happened to me here, I can't tell anyone anyway, you know what I mean?" Del continued to smear his precum across Alex's face, but Alex wasn't distracted by that...he was determined to make his case.
"So, because of that, you know I'm telling the truth, I won't tell anyone, not anything" He wasn't babbling, but he was excited by the thought that the nice men were going to let him go home to his nice house and his nice wife. "I could just go get into my car, and forget all th-"
And that was when Del stepped back, and the Sheriff hit him really hard upside his head with the big rubber billy club that had been brought over from behind the house. Alex went down like a crumbling Las Vegas hotel that had been imploded from within.
He twitched, and lay on the ground, still conscious, but just barely, panting and bleeding into the dirt. That suit was never going to look the same again.
I knew what was in the bucket.
The older man in the overalls walked over the lawyer who was writhing on the ground, and looked up at the Sheriff.
"Hand me that, boy" he said, motioning to the billy club-and the Sheriff said "Yes sir, Paw" to him, smartly. You could actually tell that he liked his father, just from that little exchange.
And the old man reached into the bucket and took a handful of something oily and slippery in his hand, reached down between the beaten man's legs, and shoved much of that hand into the man's rectum, covered in grease.
Alex opened his half-conscious eyes and started to whimper, then to cry.
One of the other men had knelt on his chest to hold him in position, and two others stood on his wrists, holding his legs back to expose his asshole- and after a moment, Alex started rhythmically screaming as Paw started pushing that billy club on up into him.
"Fuck you, Mr. Lawyer-you don't even want to know what's going to happen to you next." Paw snarled, and unhooked the clasps on his bib overalls.
And for the next five minutes- the Sheriff's father raped Alex with that billyclub, pulling it all the way out, then jamming it all the way back in, as Alex's hands beat a tattoo on the hand packed dirt and his screams faded and roared back, but never stopped.
~~~~~~~
"You had best come over here with me, faggot."
Hillbilly pulled me back to the table that Alex had been tied to. Most of the men were gathered, watching Alex's torment, but two or three of them followed Hillbilly as he roughly shoved me toward the table. His cock was still out of his pants, and his leather belt was looped in his hand, along with a beer.
"Now, kneel down, and make sure you say "yes sir" when you do it"
And I did as I was told, quickly. "Yes sir!". We were on grass, and it wasn't as bad on my knees as the asphalt at the rest stop when I was sucking trucker dick a week ago.
"This here is my third or fourth beer, son. You know what you're going to do to relieve me, right?"
I had never done that. Never. I had held some random guy's dick at a bar urinal while he was pissing, but that was once, a long time ago, and I knew what Hillbilly was going to make me do.
And I did it.
Partly because I wanted to.
He pulled up that beautiful, thick dick with the way long foreskin and aimed at my mouth. He let go-I heard the grunt and I opened my mouth just as the piss got to that point-it was some well-timed degradation, let me tell you.
I was surprised that it really had no taste...and almost no smell, I think since it was beer. But I didn't want to swallow, not at all, and I let the warm piss cascade out of my mouth and down my chest. Hillbilly didn't care-he just took aim a little higher up, and drained himself by pissing directly at my face. When the stream of warm piss ended, he shook that fat cock like he was stepping away from a trough at a bus station, and didn't even acknowledge me. Like there was an Kohler label on my forehead, and I was just there to do my job.
I took the back of my arm to wipe my eyes as another of the men stepped up to use me as their urinal. A big guy with big fat greasy dirty fingers and another good sized, uncircumcised pecker with the biggest, lowest balls I could remember seeing on any man.
He stuck the head of his dick into my mouth and said "Lick under the skin, fag". And I could tell from the smell and taste of that fat fucker that he hadn't showered or washed that thing today. Or that week. Or maybe that month.
And man, that turned me on like you can't believe. My own cock was rock hard. I was a low level piece of shit, with a grown man's filthy dick in my mouth, cleaning it with my tongue. I was where I belonged.
I ran the tip of my tongue under the foreskin and around the head, thinking it was my job right then to lick it clean, when all of a sudden he pushed my head all the way down on his cock and after a split second, started pissing right down my throat.
I hadn't taken a breath, I couldn't breathe, and I was going to drown-I started to panic and tried to pull away, but he punched me hard in the arm and held my head in place. I fought against throwing up, but my stomach wasn't cooperating. I knew if I bit him, I would quickly be in worse shape than Alex.
Right then, I felt a blow across my butt that hurt so much, it saved me from the drowning that was about to happen. I opened my mouth and screamed and jerked my head back away violently from the pain as I skittered away from the direction it was coming from.
Hillbilly stood there, naked and hard as granite, both his body and his penis. His belt was held high over his shoulder, ready to strike me. He smiled at me, and that goddamn missing tooth somehow just made him handsomer.
"Come here, you piece of shit....daddy's got a little aggression he needs to get out of his system before he rails you into tomorrow"
The other three men were pretty much naked from the waist down now, all of them, and I could see the big hard tools they were going to use to make me scream like the agony I could hear from the lawyer.
Alex was about 30 feet away now, from the sounds. They apparently were holding him face down in the dirt, since his crying was muffled by the earth, and the slapping noise of a man ramming his dick up an unwilling asshole would sometimes stop, then resume again in a few seconds after the next man climbed on top of him, obviously making sure to ram his cock as painfully as possible up the tortured man's butt. He sounded like he had slipped into complete shock now; his words were frequent, but unintelligible, and his screams had faded into one long low oscillating moan of pain that went up and down with each stroke of the rapist on his back.
Hillbilly swung the belt again and connected with my back. I yelled, from pain and fear, and then he swung for the very same spot, The pain reverberated through me, and I knew that this wasn't going to stop anytime soon.
He knew what he was doing with that belt; he would flick it to light into my flesh just enough to scare me, then immediately hit me with a wallop that left marks that would undoubtedly be massive black and yellow bruises by morning. If I made it to morning.
He had probably hit me 20 times hard, and then five times really hard, and just as many teasing blows that still hurt anyway. I was cowering and panting, trying to shield myself from the next blow, when I heard him say "Ready to suck some dick, little boy?"
I looked up, and his cock was inches from my face, red and almost purple, it was so hard. His dick obviously reacted really well to witnessing the pain of other men.
And again, a stream of pre-cum clung from the tip of his foreskin and spiraled toward the floor. His balls were perfect, one big stone hanging way lower than the other one.
That cock was fucking beautiful, all covered in big healthy veins. And ready to savage my mouth in a way it had never been used before.
And I couldn't help myself-I didn't want to- despite the pain I was in. I wanted to make that cock come, and I got to my knees again and looked up at him. He looked down at me, almost tenderly. He smiled.
"Don't look me in the eye, asshole".
I remembered where I was-and what I was.
"I'm sorry, sir". I looked at the ground and I waited for the blow that I was sure was going to come.
It did, and when I got back up to my knees from the ground, he said "Get on it, now-I need to come"
I know how to deepthroat a dick, but this one was a fat monster, and there was no physical way for me to take it all the way down to the flared base. "Yes, sir" I said, and I ran my tongue slowly, licking his balls all the way up the underside of that monster, then purposely letting him watch me chase the stream of precum and licking it into my open mouth.
"Yeah....." that deep guttural single word told me I was keeping myself okay for a while longer "Fuck yeah".
I got about a third of it in my mouth, coming up with as much wetness as I could. Normally, I would have tried to stroke the underside with my tongue while I moved my head up and down on it, but there was no way-that tree trunk took up all the available real estate in my mouth.
I spit into my hand, and moved it up and down on the base of his dickshaft. I couldn't make a full circle around it with my thumb and fingers, it was that thick, and my jaw was already starting to ache from the size of his cock in my mouth.
The noises I was hearing from Hillbilly told me I was doing it right; and I could hear the noises from the other men gathered close around as well. They were stroking their own meaty cocks, waiting impatiently for "next".
He started ramming in and out of my open mouth while holding tight to my ears, somehow pushing further each time. The head of that fucker blocked my airway every time he pushed forward, and I grabbed air through my nose on each backstroke.
My own cock was rock hard. I wanted to touch myself, the pressure in my balls was enormous and I could have come in about 5 strokes, but I didn't have the guts for that. Not even close.
Hillbilly was fucking my face like his girlfriend's cunt, holding my ears painfully and ramming that backwoods hogleg into my throat like human anatomy didn't really exist, and it was gonna do whatever the fuck it wanted to do. I didn't realize it then, but I was making low animal noises, and tears were running down my face, mixed with snot.
Hillbilly's cock started to spasm in my mouth, and I knew we had gotten him there. He grabbed a handful of my hair, and jerked me back up to my knees.
"Goddamn, goddamn....open your mouth, fag...." and then there was a noise that I had heard from other men before that came from deep within him. He spurted a huge load into my waiting mouth.
Well, pretty much into my mouth...it went everywhere, covering my lower face as well, dripping down my chin, onto the grass.
He shoved that still hard thing to the back of my throat again and pumped the next wad directly down my throat. I choked and gagged, and he let me fall forward as I threw up some onto the grass. I stayed there in that position, on all fours, heaving, as I felt more of his come landing on the back of my head.
"Goddamn...you surely do know how to suck a dick the right way, asshole". His breathing was heavy, and he was still slowly milking the last of the come out of that hairy, massive club of a penis.
I got back to my knees and put the head of his cock back into my mouth, and ever so slightly licked the underside of the head, just a little. The moan out of his mouth told me that he liked it, a lot.
I sat back on my haunches, covered in sweat, both mine and his, and a fuck of a lot of cracker sperm, and tried to get my breath.
Hillbilly's panting was slowing, and he grabbed his beer from where he had set it on the ground, tilted his head back, and finished off what was in the bottle, then belched. He looked back at me and said "Okay, fag....that was actually real, real good. But we ain't completely done yet", and walked off toward the house.
A big man I hadn't noticed before squatted down in front of me, buck naked and hairy as hell, his fat cock hanging almost to the ground. He looked me in the eye. "Y'all are gonna spend some serious time with your face and tongue in my asshole-got it?". I nodded assent, and his hand reached out and started pulling hard on my left nipple.
Now, I have always enjoyed having my nipples played with, but this hurt. But....it hurt in a way that I liked, and I moaned out loud, just a little. He kind of grinned..."You like getting hurt, huh?"
I surprised myself when I said out loud "I didn't realize it until tonight".
He was still grinning. "Wanna get hurt some more?".
I look up at him, and the two other men looming up close behind him. It was dark enough that I couldn't really see their faces under the bills of the ballcaps they both wore, but I sure enough could see the big hard dicks that were waiting for their crack at me.
I tried to joke. "Do I have a choice?" but my voice was thin.
One of the men in the back swung his arms, and I saw that he had a whip in one hand.
I looked at the big guy, squatting in front of me and said "Oh no, please, no, please, sir...."
He just grinned wider, and twisted my nipple in order to make me yelp in pain.
"I love hearing that, do it again..." he said, and pulled harder. I cried out at the sharp pain I was in.
"You might be a yellin, but you know that you love it....look at that pecker of yours.....still standing straight up. You ever been whipped before, mister?"
I shook my head "No".
"Well-it hurts. It hurts real real bad. We've done it to a bunch of fuckers afore this. And I can promise you...it's gonna hurt you like you ain't been hurt before. But I imagine you gonna live through it-they all did. Just remember that, when it gets to hurting so bad you wanna die"
I couldn't help myself...I was so scared at that point, I started to cry. Big sobs, like an eight year old.
The man was still squatted on his haunches, grinning at me.
"Son, you don't know it, but you just made my johnson about 100% harder, crying like that. There's nothing I enjoy more than a grown man, so scared of what's gonna happen to him that he's crying like a little girl would"
One of the figures in the darkness behind him growled "C'mon Bobby...let's fuck him up"
Bobby looked back and nodded "Grab that bucket of grease, would ya?" and they both grabbed my arms and pulled me up to my feet and toward the lake.
I stumbled, momentarily glad I still had my shoes on.
I looked as they pulled me past Alex, who was on all fours on the grass, his legs spread wide open to the old man with the gun, who was easily proving that he was not too old to fuck like a 20 year old. The remnants of his suit were long gone, but the old man was yanking on his tie like horse reins. pulling Alex's head back as he pumped into him.
His mouth was on the cock of one of the Mexican men. This evidentially was not Mario, since this guy's dick was big enough to slide in and out of Alex's mouth with plenty to spare.
The Mexican pulled his cock out, and started to come loudly, and the men with me slowed down to watch. Alex turned his head toward us, trying to avoid more semen in his face.
Our eyes met, but I don't think he recognized me. I'm not completely sure that he was still in there; those eyes were as flat and empty as glass.
The men grabbed me, and pushed me toward whatever was next for me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was a cable strung between two trees nearer to the lakeshore, it was at the height of an old fashioned clothesline. A couple of padded handcuffs dangled from the middle of the cable.
I didn't even try to fight-the three of them were all bigger than me, and there wasn't anyplace to run to, even if I got away.
I was still quietly crying and heaving with fright.
I put my hands up, and Bobby stood right on top of me as he clasped the cuffs around my wrists. I could feel his hard dick poking me in the back as he leaned in to adjust them.
"Really never had your ass whipped before, that the truth?" I shook my head.
"Like I said, it's gonna hurt like all hell...but there's some fellas that almost relax into it. They still scream, cause it still hurts, but it's like they's hypnotized or something."
"Something tells me that you're gonna be one of 'em"
I could hear music and other sounds that told me that they were not done with Alex coming from up near the house, but the three men surrounding me had stepped back, and were unnaturally quiet.
I tried to turn back to look at them but they had receded into the darkness.
I could hear their even breaths, though, and their silence.
And then I heard a sharp swish through the air. It wasn't close to me, but I knew what it was. And what it meant for me.
I gasped, out loud.
They heard me, and fell completely silent.
It felt like my senses were heightened, hearing everything in that dark night.
Something skittering in the woods near us, the men near the house whooping and hollering, the sound of the lake lapping at the shore a little...and the heavy breathing of the men eight feet behind me, waiting to lay into me with a whip.
The first strike came so fast that I didn't hear it coming. It snaked across my upper back, and I yelped in fear, mostly, but it stung like hell. I wanted to rub the pain away, but my hands were cuffed to the line above me. The pain didn't really take that long to dissipate.
I heard the whip again, and braced, but it just flicked me, a slight sting, and then nothing.
Then, another swoosh, and I grimaced, but the hit didn't come. Again-just a kiss of pain that went away as soon as it came.
And another, this time in my lower back. That shocked me-I expected it higher. I'm sure it left a mark, but it was just the smallest bit of pain, and I could handle it easily.
I thought to myself "This is at a level you can deal with...just breathe"....
I was flicked again, and it stung a little more, but nothing extreme.
And again.
And all of a sudden, I realized that he was playing with me, the way that you reel a fish in, then let it coast out, then reel it in again....
The strike came right at that moment, laying into my back like I was hit by a lighting bolt. The surprise was complete; I didn't even make a sound until a full 15 seconds later.
"NO, no, no..." I yelled. The next hit was full on, and knocked me forward.
The pain radiated for more than 30 seconds, growing bigger and pulsing all the way across my shoulder blades until it wrapped around to my upper chest. It hurt so much that I just hung there, trying to take in all of the agony from what felt like many sources.
I gasped and panted, and found myself hanging from my arms, as Bobby's voice came out of the darkness.
"C'mon, faggot, get on up. There's more...".
After a moment, I lumbered back to my feet, it was hard to keep balanced with my hands and arms fastened above me. I couldn't really see; the tears of pain just kept coming.
The whip snicked at my back again, and then again, and then again, over and over, not trying to connect in any major way, just trying to impress me with the skill of it's master. I jumped from it each time it came near, and started making animal-like noises of deep fear.
I knew that they were just marking time until they started whaling on me with solid hits again.....
Then, I heard the whip whistle pretty much at the same time I felt the impact. He had decided to stop playing with me; it was time to make me suffer.
The pain was so intense, that in my mind, I just stood there and tried to make sense of it all.
In reality, the hit had launched me forward, and I hung from the cable again, my knees buckled. A second, similar hit followed right afterward, and I could taste blood in my mouth.
My consciousness was wavering, and the black in front of my eyes was sounding pretty good right now.
A third heavy hit pushed me right into that black, black room, and I guess I went down.
I don't know how long I was out. It wasn't very long, but long enough for one of them to go get an empty bucket, fill it with lakewater, and dump it over my head. I slowly swam to the surface of my semi-consciousness, shaking the water from my hair.
My back felt like it had been used to extinguish barbeque coals. The pain pulsated, never ceasing, just throbbing, over and over and over.
Bobby was behind me. "You ready for more?"
I have never begged for anything in my life. Not really. But I begged now.
"Please, I don't want to die, and if you hit me again, I am going to die, you will kill me, I will die. I will do anything you want, but I can't take any more of this, please, please, please, please, please....."
Bobby walked over in front of me, and leaned in, so that we were face to face, two feet apart. The whip hung from his hand, looking completely innocent, coiled in the dirt.
"You didn't call me "Sir"".
"SIR, YES SIR, I'm sorry sir, I won't forget again, I promise"
"How am I going to know that you respect me if you won't even bother to call me Sir?"
"I...."....I took a gulp of air, and looked up at him. And realized that I what I was going to say sounded just like Alex. And that it was going to do me just as much good as it had done for Alex.
"I am sorry, sir" was all I said. And then I waited for the next hit.
He smiled that incredibly charming, out-of-place smile of his, standing there, a great big naked hairy animal, holding that whip and my sanity in his right hand.
"You just might be trainable, fag...." He grinned at me.
"This is going to be the last hit" I audibly exhaled, I know I did. I could handle just one more.
"But, just so you know, my last hit is always designed so that it leaves some really bad marks. This one is going to hurt. A lot."
"Here's the good part....you get to tell me when that last hit comes. I'm just gonna stand here and flick at you a little bit, waiting for you to say "Okay, sir....fuck me up bad".
He flicked the whip, and it connected lightly as I struggled to fall forward away from it. Then again. Then again.
"Just say it, because you know that you want this- Try "Sir, make me bleed". I would absolutely love to hear that come out your cocksucker mouth"
He flicked me again, this time connecting much lower through my legs with my hanging balls. It was just a graze compared to the other serious hits I'd endured, but the hollow pain radiated like it was never going to end. I doubled over, at least as much as I could with my hands cuffed above me, and momentarily choked down vomit.
He didn't stop.
"I'm going to keep going with this as long as you need me to, son....you can handle these little hits, I know you can"
My breathing was shallow and rapid at this point, the adrenaline in my body was massive.
The whip flicked at my back again, but just a little harder, and I just about screamed, not because the pain was too much, but because the fear was.
I realized that again, he was reeling me in.
He flicked me again, and the whip wrapped around my upper back and came close to my nipple. The intensity of what he was doing was increasing....he was just playing with me.
I couldn't see him, but I knew he was back there, grinning at my agony.
I had enough.
"NOW, Sir. Just DO it, NOW!". I don't know where that came from, or how I got brave enough to say it, but I just wanted it over with. Go ahead, kill me right this second.
And...nothing happened. I think I heard one of the other men say something, but that was it. The sound of water.
And then... the whip whistled through the night air, and time stopped-for me, at least. I really did hear a cricket chirp right before it hit, I clearly remember that.
That whip pretty well cut me in half. Not literally, but it definitely carved a furrow down my back, and I screamed over and over and over as pain pulsated and didn't stop or lessen or do anything except create an excruciating new universe for me to float in.
And all of a sudden, I didn't feel it as sharply anymore. I could feel intense pain, sure....but it was like I was outside, looking in at a person who wasn't quite me. It might have been shock, I don't know, but it helped -a lot.
I hung my head....I somehow knew that Bobby had told the truth, and he wasn't going to strike me again. As I gasped for air, I saw the blood from my back dripping onto the beach dirt below.
One of the men walked around to me with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was wearing a t-shirt, a hungry look, and nothing else. His cock was still hard from watching my whipping, and I knew that he was going to be shoving that fat piece into my mouth or my ass soon.
He set the bottle on the ground and undid my wrists. Bobby walked around as I rubbed blood back into my hands.
"You did right good" he said, looking me in the eye...and he meant it.
"Thank you, sir" It sprang to my lips easily, and it felt okay to say it.
"Take a couple of good swallows of that whiskey, son" I started to protest, but he held up the bottle. "Just trust me and do it".
It was actually good whiskey, and I knocked back a slug.
"Again".
I obeyed him. I'm not a big drinker, and I could feel it hit almost immediately. I probably wavered a little on my feet.
Bobby picked up the bottle and started to walk back to the house "This one is for your own good, and believe it or not, I'm sorry" and turned back to where I was standing.
I didn't know what he was talking about until the other guy grabbed my shoulders and held me tight in place, as Bobby poured whiskey straight from the bottle onto the whip tracks across my back.
Stars shot through the night sky, and I screamed like a wounded dog. My back felt like it was a raging forest fire -and the pain didn't abate like the whip snicks did. It just blazed on, and on. I fell to my knees, crying from the pain of the alcohol on my open wounds. I didn't care who heard me.
"I know it hurts, but at least you ain't going be all infected in the morning" I looked up at Bobby, through the throbbing haze in my head, and heard what he had said. I almost choked out the words, because I was afraid I had heard wrong and he was going to tell me so.
"I'm going to live until morning?"
He grinned at me again. "Oh yeah, you're going to live to morning. And beyond, son. Nobody here's a killer. We ain't killed one yet. Made 'em want to die, but didn't kill them".
And then he got serious.
"It's time for you to make me and Joe come. And yeah, you're not gonna be killed, but we're going to fuck you like you wasn't ever gonna need that asshole again. I know I am, anyway...you got a right nice ass to buttfuck".
"Are you clean? 'Cause you better be....I ain't dealing with that."
I nodded "Yes, sir, I am" I knew I was, because I had made sure before I left my house, what felt like four years ago now. Then, I was hoping some nice trucker might fuck me. Now, I was glad that I didn't need to worry.
"Okay...just like with the whip, you get a choice, fag boy. You can start by servicing me. I reckon that my dick is the widest between all of us when it's hard, and it's a fair size" It was better than ""fair size"-it was a ridiculously thick 8+ inches. I was looking right at it.
"Or you can start with Joe. He's pretty much the longest guy outta all of us here. I gotta warn you, Joe like to piledrive that fucker as deep as he can get it, and I've heard some straight-up screaming while he was working them other guys over".
I looked over at Joe and his dick was standing straight away from his body. It was nearly half again as long as Bobby's was. Joe smiled at me, and continued stroking his cock in anticipation.
"What about him?" I asked, looking over to Lukey, who looked both cunning and resolutely stupid at the same time.
"Hey, Lukey?" Bobby said "You all want some of this?" he gestured to my ass.
Lukey looked up lazily and said "Nope" he drawled "I just wanna watch you two guys hump on him". As he spoke, I realized that he was only a few IQ points above lukewarm.
"Lukey likes to watch and play with hisself. If he gets ready to come, you just go on and open your mouth to him, hear?"
"Now, who goes first, Joe or me?"
"Sir...." I didn't know how to pick....although I found that the thought of Bobby fucking me in front of the other two was a major turn on. I finally decided to get the difficult one out of the way, and save something good for later.
I turned to the left and said "Joe, please don't hurt me any more than you have to"
Joe smiled up at Bobby, proud of being first, then turned to me and said "Don't call me by my name, faggot-I ain't your friend. Put your ass over that table there" he said, gesturing to an old cement picnic table.
I have been fucked before, and I have fucked other guys....many times. For a lot of men, it's easy. Plenty of wide open space in there; just shove it in and go for it.
But for me, it's never been easy. That first and second ring are tight, and it takes long minutes for everything down there to relax. And I already knew that he wouldn't take the time to properly open me up.
I don't really know what I was thinking when I picked a monster dick to go first.
Joe greased up his cock with both hands, before shoving more grease into my tight asshole.
I made a deep growling noise as one finger, than two fingers went in, then went all the way in. And out. And in again.
Bobby watched this with a hard cock and hunger in his impatient eyes. He walked over to the table, his fat dick bouncing with every step, and squatted down in front of me, his elbows steadying him on the table edge.
"I'm just gonna stay here, and watch your face while he shoves that thing on up in you" He grinned at me, like he was here to support me instead of the next in line to rape me.
Fuck you, I thought. He read my thoughts. and laughed out loud.
"Didn't Clete find you out sucking trucker dick tonight? Ain't you getting exactly what you wanted here? A bunch of big-dicked, straight old country boys who want to get their nuts off at your expense, and ain't afraid to give a fag what he really wants, down deep?"
I kept my eyes lined up with him, as I felt Joe start to rub the head of that enormous piece of meat on my asshole. He wasn't pushing in just yet, but he would be in moments.
I took a deep breath.
"Maybe"
His hand reached across the table and grabbed my wrist hard.
"Maybe what, you fucking idiot?"
"Maybe, sir...owwwwwwwWWW" and my voice rose as Joe started pushing the fat head of his cock into my tight butthole.
He met a lot of resistance as I involuntarily tried to push him back out, but he wasn't going to give up, or even slow down his steady push on up into my gut.
Joe was probably going slower and being nicer than I ever would have expected, but every fraction of an inch involved stretching muscles that I rarely let get stretched open. My eyes were shut with the pain, as I softly moaned and tried to open up to let this fucking freight train in.
I could feel it going further, and then he suddenly pulled back. I gasped, but then he shoved it forward again, and I yelped out loud....and he kept going forward. I was being impaled on a great big hillbilly cock that wasn't even close to all the way in yet.
"Keep going, Joe, he can take it" I opened my eyes, and Bobby was right in front me still, looking at my face all contorted in pain, and obviously getting off on the agony that this huge cock was causing me.
"No!" I said, but Joe listened to Bobby, not me, and kept pushing that club up my ass. He would ease up, pull back, then make more headway forward as he started to move that thing back and forth. I widened my legs to give him more access, hoping that would help.
And then, all of a sudden, I opened up more. Joe had started to come a little, and the extra lubrication from all of that precum allowed him to shove that thing all the way forward. The timber of my voice rose as his rhythm started to pick up speed.
"Oh my God, holy shit, no, no, NOOOOOO....." the last of that climbed to a scream as he drove that cock deep into my guts and pulled almost all the way out, only to force it all the way back in again.
"He fucking likes it, Joe, fuck him up the ass, dude". Bobby egged Joe on, probably just to cause more damage to me. It worked.
Joe started plowing me, and all 10 plus inches of him slid out, then banged me against the table again, and again, and again, and again. I was making loud, screaming noises that I knew they could hear back at the house, and it crossed my mind that more of them would come over here, looking for some of the same thing-but I couldn't stop.
He went on for the next five minutes like that, unrelenting. When he started to make deep gutteral noises, I could tell Joe was close to coming, and I decided to try and make that happen by closing my asshole down onto his stroking cock. It was starting not to hurt as much, and I was honestly beginning to enjoy the sensation of getting nailed by the biggest cock I had ever taken.
I flexed and grabbed onto this fat fucking dick with my stretched out ass muscles the best I could, then started doing it in time to his stroking.
"Holy fuck, what did you just do?!" He yelled at me. "Fucking do that again!!" I clenched, and kept his rhythm.
He started pounding me at a speed that my ass couldn't keep up with, and then he arched his back, and literally howled at the night sky as he came.
I could feel his twitching cock pumping his hot hillbilly sadistic rapist sperm up my ass, banging as far in as he could go, making it hurt each and every time.
He kept stroking as he came once, then again, then a little bit less. His dick stayed in me as he collapsed on top of me, still pumping every once in a while. His chest hair scraped and hurt my flayed back, and he smelled like heavy old sweat and whiskey and marijuana.
I opened my eyes, with Joe laying on top of me, panting, to find Lukey's stroking his hard, filthy cock about an inch from my face.
"Open your mouth, mister"
He had great aim, I'll give him that. He shot a ropey wad that hit directly at the back of my throat, then a second one that was half in my mouth, half hanging down my chin. Then he lazily snapped his dick so that the remainder that was clinging to his cock ended up in my mouth again.
"Keep your mouth open, mister-I want to see what I done". He leaned in to inspect his work, and he wiped the rest of the sperm that was clinging to his callused, dirt encrusted hand across my face, making sure to get all of it off by using my hair too. "Okay, you can swallow it now" he said, as Joe, still panting, climbed off me.
Bobby leaned in and said, softly "Swallow that retard's sperm, you fucking pig".
I did. Of course, I did. It tasted just like big stupid motherfucker.
~~~~~~~
I expected that Bobby would climb onto me, and now that I was opened up-very opened up-I was looking forward to it.
He was a mass of knotted muscle with a cock I knew I would remember always, and I was looking forward to submitting to him. It got me off that he had sat there and watched me be raped by his friend.
I looked at him. "Sir?" and he knew what I was asking. He raised one hand, and used a finger to motion me over to where he was sitting in a camp chair.
"Put it in your mouth, and suck on it like it was your mama's titty".
`I saw Joe look at Lukey, and grin. The both of them started to walk back toward the house, their spent dicks swinging.
Bobby's good old boy cock was hard to get into my mouth, it was so big around, but I did as I was told. Slowly sucking on the massive head of it, with my hands supporting balls so big that they literally were the size of small chicken eggs (well, the right one was, anyway).
Stroking just a little, I was trying hard to nuance a blowjob onto that sequoia of a penis. He sat back in the chair, and made what I thought were appreciative noises....couldn't be sure about that, but at least he didn't hit me.
He just leaned back and enjoyed it, like it was his due.
After about seven or eight minutes, he said "If you keep that up, I'ma gonna cum in your mouth-and I wanna come up your ass".
I pulled away from his cock and stood up. "Please, sir". I wanted it. 100%,I wanted it.
He shook his head. "Jesus Christ, you got some capacity, I'll give you that".
There was a ratty blanket on the grass. "Lay down over there, fag". He got up, went over to the bucket, and greased up his enormous cock as I watched, then headed my way with a handful of axle grease or whatever that was. He flipped me over on my back, with my legs up, and rubbed the grease up and down my butt crack.
I couldn't remember the last time that my own cock was so hard. I must have been an inch longer than my usual 6".
He shoved two fingers into my asshole, to get the grease inside. After Joe's fucking, he probably could have gotten his whole hand in there. It felt amazingly good.
Just then, two of the other men from the house came toward us, walking with a joint and beers in their hands.
"Hey Bobby!" one of them yelled "We're coming to get some of that too"
"Cooter, just fuck off for a while here....he's mine right now" Bobby yelled back. The men hesitated, then deferred to him. They both turned around and went back the way they came.
Bobby smiled at me "I just saved you some trouble. That one old boy can't never get it up, and the other one don't know how to use what he got, nohow".
I actually smiled back at him as his fingers greased up my ass, waiting for him to mount and use me. That smile was real-I wanted this beast of a man to breed me like animals do. I wanted to be subservient to him-he was better than me, and that just felt right.
"Thank you, sir".
"Look at you, fag" he said as he looked down on me "Why ain't you scared of me right now?"
I chose my words carefully. "Good question. I know that I am not safe yet, sir".
"No, you are not....not at all"
And he positioned himself on me, and started to push his fat cock into me, holding my legs up in the air and looking down on me. I moaned, and threw my head back, and tried to shift myself so that he could get all of that monster up into me.
I was afraid that I wasn't going to be tight enough after enduring Joe's huge log up my ass. Bobby's dick was a good two inches thicker. He wasn't trying to rip me open with it. He took his time, and pushed steadily in. It felt amazing.
He looked down at me, and his hands came down around my throat. Those big working man's fingers encircled my throat, and started to tighten.
"I ain't gonna kill you, you little fucker. But let's see how long you can handle this...."
I took a deep breath, as best I could through my restricted airway. He started to move on top of me, in and out, pumping into me.
His fingers tightened a little more, and I started to get scared as I felt my oxygen level start to drop. I was beginning to see stars, and my hands went up toward his hands, but he loosened his grip for a minute, and pushed them away. It gave me a chance to grab a deep breath into my lungs, and the stars cleared. His hand went right back to my throat, and tightened down.
All the time, he continued fucking away at my ass, harder and harder. Watching me struggle to breathe was getting him off.
His fingers pressed hard into my throat. The stars returned, and got thicker, as my thoughts became confused. I remember that I wasn't sure who this was on top of me for a minute, was it Bobby? Was it Joe? and then... there were black streaks through my mind. I thought my hands were beating on something solid. That's the last thing I remember until I swam to the surface again.
As my consciousness returned, I slowly realized Bobby was still on top of me, fucking me hard, and getting ready to come. Sweat rolled down through the forest on his massive chest, and he kept an even, hard stroke that I felt through my entire body. He made very little noise, just worked at my ass like it was his day job, and he had to get this project finished before quitting time.
But I could see that he was coming close, and his body shuddered a little when I clamped down on his great, moving cock. I rocked my hips, and there wasn't anything about this fuck that I didn't like...being filled up like that felt really, really good.
I reached under him, and felt his balls tightening, and I knew he was ready to come any second. He put his big hand onto my face, pressing down, and increasing his speed.
The muscles and veins in his neck stood out.in sharp relief.
"Uhhhhhh" Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......."
The stroking continued, and I knew that he was just on the edge. And when he finally came, the pressure in my asshole became painful, he was pumping so much redneck spooge up there. His rhythm slowed, and then stopped, as he stayed in me, panting and twitching a little.
I grabbed my own cock then. My hands were already slippery, and I was so close that I might've actually been able to shoot hands free. I stroked no more than 20 times, and then, an arc of cum pumped out of me, and landed on Bobby's lower chest. Then another.
After hours of sexual torture, the release was amazing, wave after wave going though me as I pumped out what felt like a beer can full of sperm. I finally stopped coming, and laid back exhausted onto the blanket.
He looked down at me. We both stank of sweat and sex.
"How'd you like that, boy?"
I didn't even say anything. I just smiled at him, and grabbed at his slowly softening cock with whatever muscles were left in my ass, and stroked.
"Now, you got tricks left, huh? You trying to get me hard so I fuck you like that again?"
"Honestly, no-I'm pretty much worn out. Don't think I could take much of anything more".
His face got more serious. "Well, you might just have to. You ain't out of here yet, and I ain't your boyfriend-I ain't gonna save you from them other guys. You gotta go back up toward the house here in a minute, and if one of them good old boys decides that you're his for 20 minutes...you better bend over and take it from him. That's the deal."
I knew he was right...and that was likely to happen.
"You can do it. Y'all still got some stamina, and face it-you get off on being degraded like this. You shown that by that hard dick you got whilst you was being whipped. If I told you you was going back up there to let some ol' boy facefuck you while another one railed you up your ass and slapped you around...you'd be interested, now wouldn't you?"
I was embarrassed to admit it in front of him, but....yes, I would be interested. I nodded, just a little.
"I thought so. Then grab this while it's in front of you. You think you're gonna get kidnapped from some other truckstop next weekend, and the same thing gonna happen? A guy like you is going to use all of this for whack-off material for the rest of your life, son".
He was right.
"Okay" I wasn't really agreeing, I could just see that there wasn't much of a choice here.
"How long have you guys been doing this?"
He was surprised by the question. "Fucking up guys? Lessee, maybe four, five years. We all get together one Friday night a month and do this. In the winter months, it mostly moves inside the house-there's a big ol' cross in that living room that we tie these stupid fuckers to, and wale the shit out of 'em."
"It started when there was about five of here one night, and we was all trying to get this skanky girl to let us run a train on her, one right after the other. She was a little drunk, and didn't wanna do it-she had thought she was coming here on an actual date with Del. She ended up running out the front door holding her clothes, and drove away."
"She's tearing out of here leaving, and at the same time, here comes Clete, in his cruiser, pulling up, looking for the Sheriff. He's got some fag in handcuffs in the backseat-some guy who he picked up out at that same rest stop you was at. I think that's where he gets most of 'em."
"Just like you, you'd a never known that he was gay-the guy seemed normal as hell. We was all standing outside, and Clete tells us that this guy was out looking for dick, and he was takin' him into the station. And I swear to Jesus, we all looked at each other with the same idea, all at once...."
"That boy had hisself a night to remember. He got that train we was gonna give to Carolann".
"The Sheriff's best friend is with the State Police, and between the Sheriff's guys, and that state guy....we most always got 3-4 victims here waiting for us when we get here on the first Friday, every month. A lot of them come from those same two trucker stops out on Route 8. Sometimes, old Clete will grab some guy on a Tuesday or Wednesday, and keep him on ice at the county jail for a couple of days, waiting for Friday night. No Miranda rights, no "one phone call"-and he usually don't fuck with em at all while he's got them there at the jail, just waits for them to find out what's gonna happen to them when they get here".
"Usually, when we all walk in, these guys will be buck ass naked, cleaned out, all tied up, and half the time, so scared that they's crying like girls-which I like" he added.
"Unfortunate for you that there was only you and that Alex fella tonight. Usually, there's enough ass to go around, and each of them victims only has to take on 3-4 guys. You're having to serve a lot more tonight".
"Aren't most of you guys straight? Why not women?" I asked.
"Women cause problems. Women been trained to go to the cops about shit like this; men are too worried about their reputations to do that. We ain't never had one man try any of that shit. Never hear from a single one of them again"
"Plus, ain't no woman can handle what you handled tonight and still be on her feet-.and for me, anyway, I like using a man or boy, and tearing his pride down and leaving him not sure if he's really a man or not. That truly gets me the fuck off better'n any blowjob could"
Apparently, Bobby took pride in his work.
"And probly 60% of the guys that we use are fags anyway. Down deep, you guys like this shit, even when you don't know you do".
"The rest of them are assholes that the cops pull over and then they mouth off to them, or behave like they's better than us country fuckers. That's why old Alex is spending a nice evening here with a bunch of big ol' peckers shoved up his ass. He told some cop that he "knew the governor" and "I'm gonna have your badge" because he got pulled over doing near to 95 on the highway. The cop that pulled him over ain't part of us, but he just handed Alex over and said "You boys do whatever you want to to this one". I like getting men like that, that think that they are something real special, and the next thing they know, their legs are spread apart and their asshole is opened up for a lineup of men who ain't much impressed with their college diploma"
He started to get up. "C'mon, boy....it's time for you to go on back up there, and face the rest of what you gotta face for tonight. And you might wanna grab that bucket of grease over there. You're gonna need it, sure".
I wasn't ready. I wanted to stay here, and listen to Billy talk. "Can't you sneak me out of here, sir? Maybe I could go to your place? I would do whatever you told me to do...no questions, I promise"
He just looked at me and said "Now, don't be getting comfortable with me, son. I will fuck you up, and give you to other men who will hurt you in ways that will never go away, and shove things up your ass while straight men point and laugh at you. This here ain't a friendship, and it sure as fuck ain't a partnership. Now, get your ass up that hill, and get to doin' what you was made for, faggot"
I hesitated for just a second, and said "Yes, sir", and walked back alone toward the whooping and hollering of the men at the house.
~~~~~~~
Near to dawn on that long night, most all of them were asleep, draped across the ratty furniture in the house. I snuck through the living room.
There was a good amount of drunken snoring while I found my shorts in a corner. My keys were still in the pocket. I picked up a t-shirt that was grimy with someone else's sweat and made it out of the door.
At the end of it, before they had all passed out, they had made Alex and I "entertain" them with a long, fat double-ended dildo rammed up each of our assholes. It still laid on the floor; I stepped over it on my way out the door.
There was no one in the backyard, toward the lake....just the debris of the night before, including Alex's suit pants, hanging from a tree high overhead. Beer bottles littered the yard.
I headed carefully toward the front driveway. The trucks were almost all still there, but the expensive sedan that must have belonged to Alex was gone.
I never saw or heard about him again. I hope he was ultimately okay. I doubt he ever talked back to a cop again.
Sneaking toward the road past the row of trucks, I saw the police sedan I had been brought there in. I had thought that Clete must have had to go back to work, or his wife, or somewhere by then, since I hadn't seen him in the last few drunken hours of abuse.
"Told you, didn't I?" The voice came from behind me; and I jumped-literally-six inches in the air.
It was Clete. Apparently, he had been asleep inside someplace. He wore a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, and looked like he had just woken up. Pretty much like everybody's dad at 7 am on a Sunday morning.
"Told you last night on the way here that you was gonna live. And here you are. All alive. And by all accounts, you figured out how to do what you needed to do pretty damned quick, boy"
"Yes sir, I guess that I did".
"Congratulations, Brian...you made it through" It felt weird to hear him call me by my name.
"Yes sir. I'm not sure how".
"How's your asshole feel?"
"Just like you think it does, sir".
"I imagine. Alright, then, I ain't gonna fuck you then. But I'll trade you...you suck my dick off, and I'll drive you back to your car".
I didn't even hesitate. "Deal". One more cock in my mouth hardly mattered at this point, did it?
He pulled down the boxer shorts and showed me what breakfast was going to be. Apparently, they grew all of these men big around here.
I started over to pay my part of the bargain.
"Wait right there" he said, in a total cop voice. "I believe that you're forgetting something. What did I tell you last night, on the way here?"
There had been about a year's worth of input overload between then and now. My mind was blank as I tried to remember what he had said in the car....and then, it all came back.
"You said that I should crawl to you today. Crawl over to you and...say "thank you".
"Yup, that's exactly right" he said. "Do you know why I said that now? Now that you've been through all of that?"
I nodded my head. "Yes sir, I think I do, sir".
I dropped to my hands and knees, crawling toward him over the dew on the early morning grass. "Thank you, Sir". I said.
"Thank you for what, Brian?"
I surprised myself. "Thank you for bringing me here, sir".
"You're welcome. Glad you learned something about yourself tonight, son"
He looked down with a big smile and said "Now, put that dick in your mouth and show me how it's done".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~'
It's been a month since that long, warm night....
The whip slashes on my back has healed, and so has my butthole, with the help of a lot of steroid cream, but that night still haunts me through most of my waking hours. After that, my dreams pick up the slack throughout the night.
I haven't been back to the rest stop on Route 8 since then. Haven't been anywhere that involved anything sexual. Just work, and home, and home and work-that, plus the thoughts constantly in my head.
But somehow tonight I found my car headed, almost on autopilot, back out to that secluded patch of asphalt, with the streetlight blinking every so often overhead.
It's still high summer here.
There's a guy across the lot in a semi truck with Kansas plates that seems like he's checking me out. Hard to tell through his windshield, but he seems like a good looking dude. We'll see if he walks into the bathroom or not.
It's Friday evening. The first Friday of the month.
The night they all get together by the lake to drink beer, and play cards, and most probably to fuck up a few unfortunate guys that never saw it coming.
And if those hapless victims are smart enough to pay a little attention in between the terror and the pain and the degradation and the abuse-those hillbilly motherfuckers might also teach them to look inward and learn a little about themselves.
I did. Boy, did I learn.
So, even though it took me a long while to admit it to myself, I've realized the actual reason that I am back here, at the truck stop.
I'm hoping get arrested. Again.
And I think I have a pretty good chance of that happening tonight.
I really hope so.
