I have collected information on many stories that have come my way from cats stuck up trees to rare birds of paradise and many many more in all of two years of working for The Daily Soak, a rather seedy newspaper that told the daily lives of the public in a not so great way.
Terry, a colleague of mine, told me the paper only sold out not because of the stories but because of all the naked, x rated porno material of both men and women entangled together in what was entitled an Eton Mess section. You know, the desert except the only difference is an Eton Mess is less creamy looking in this instance.
Anyway my job in a nutshell is collecting interesting stories for a paper that does not give one for them or anyone else’s but instead pays highly for flesh on flesh in the most erotic way.
Oh well atleast I get paid for them even though it’s a pittance what with cost of living etc.
I would write erotic stories if I could just find one or think of one as I hear they are worth a lot more to this stinking paper than the actual photos. Only trouble is I can not think of one. My mind has always been clean thinking. That is until today as I stroll through Cookham Forest on this rather sunny and beautiful day.
Cookham Forest is a small but very nice area for a forest park. Developed in 1530 by Sir Percy Thongerton, atleast that’s what his last name appears to be with graffiti scribed over it. Maybe it was Thingerton or something of that description. Anyway he apparently invested a great amount of wealth to make this park happen. At the time King Henry the eighth wanted somewhere to ravish all those young women who would someday give birth to either a girl and then lose their head or a boy and…..
Well you get the point. The big fat man wanted nothing more than to fuck over as many women and maybe men as he could in total and utter secrecy.
Just imagine what that would have looked liked.
So I’m walking through this park trying to find what could be a sensational piece of writing that would pay well back at the office when I get this feeling that I’m not alone. I glance around and get a shock when I think I see a pair of eyes looking upon me from out of one of the cultivated hedges about a foot away from me. The eyes disappear with an odd rustling of the hedge.
Must have been a cat or something like a cat. Maybe a bird or squirrel. But no it can’t have been. If I had not been imagining I’d say those eyes belonged to another human. Maybe a homeless person. It’s not that uncommon for homeless people to roam any park but due to the limited area in broad daylight I highly think a homeless person would stop and look at me. The police have a strict code for homeless people laying low in this park.
Now I come to think of it i once saw two officers dragging a homeless man out who was making some strange noise about the forest or something in the forest touching him inappropriately.
Im not a strong believer in the supernatural nor do I believe in urban myths but something that man had said about this place made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know how I missed it. What was it? Oh yes. He said that along with being touch inappropriately he had not seen his attackers anywhere. Even though he had turned left and right he could see nothing and yet feel everything happening to his apparently naked and trussed up to a tree body.
How could I have forgotten a story like that?
For my paper that story alone would have given enough money for me to do my own column. Maybe even move to a more appropriate paper for me to progress forward.
Yes that’s it. I now only need to find the homeless man. What was his name now. Charlie? No. Maybe Peter? No no not that. Come on think. The police said his name was….was…..Martin….ah yes…..Martin Strange. Address? Address….
How stupid of me. Martin, if that was his real name, was homeless. Home less meaning no address.
Shit….
Well there goes my day for a successful story….
A story I much needed and…..whoa!
I was suddenly pulled back by an unforseen hand or hands. Back into a neck of the forest and then let go in what was the newly refurbished playground.
Suddenly the weather took on a grey and misty behaviour as just before the day had been hot and clear sky now it was cold, grey and full of mist.
As I got up I noticed the mist seemed to encircle just the playground as I could see all the children’s equipment from a roundabout to the tire swings and net climbing apparatus.
I also noticed not a sound was heard. No bird chirping nor any human sound or children laughing or mums talking about breast feeding and wait….breast feeding? Why am I thinking dirty things?
That thought though was the least important as again I felt hands dragging me to one of the sitting benches that was effectively a hollowed out log.
Before I could make a sound my top was pulled up and over and off and I saw it get thrown away up into the grey sky and land on the railing.
Next I saw some rope left behind, probably from the workers, snake upwards and tie themselves round my outstretched arms.
So here I was, half naked, tied over a log bench, with an odd grey sky and mist surrounding me and now my legs were getting moved apart.
Oddly I was warm and not cold as I had been expecting when my top and now my pants had been ripped away and thrown yet again landing on a bin not too far from were my top fell.
Im not a believer in religion but if there ever was a time to believe now was it as I was just about to shout out for help from the gods.
Sadly no words came from my mouth as what looked like a disguarded tennis ball was secured round my head meaning any words of help would have been a waste of energy and time.
Then came the slaps.
I felt one then another begin raining upon my boxer clad ass. At first they felt good leaning to a little pleasurable.
If I could sigh I would.
But then I felt the slaps get harder and harder. I’d scream out if I could but I could only moan in protest.
Then the slaps stopped. With one swift move my boxers came off my upturned ass and flung once again onto a wooden pole.
If the mist and grey clouds had not covered this predicament the public would have now seen a red haired, hairless, skinny teenager going on early twenties gagged and tied male, stark bollock naked with his ass on display ready for what I knew was the inevitable.
My knob in all this peaked to a semi erection. Obviously I was getting slightly horny for the impending doom of my defenceless virgin body.
For some reason the thought of my friend Dirk Gresswell came to mind.
Dirk was from America. Standing at six foot tall he was from a small town called Finchley Green, Massachusetts, wherever that is, and was a fit athlete for a team called The Buff Buffer Beavers. Apparently they played a great season once.
Anyway me and Dirk met at work. He was one of the models that sold well. In fact I think he was the top billing model for both the men and women porno pages. You know, the Eaton Mess section.
Well sometimes me and Dirk would hike out in plenty of lush forests and green pastures located around my home town of Motley Brixton and sometimes Dirk would show some of his work to me from other publications he did in America. They were extensive. One photo showed Dirk gripping a woman by her long hair and ramming what must have been an eight inch cock into her on what looked to be an oil soaked, inflatable paddling pool.
If only Dirk could see me now. Maybe he’d take a picture of me and send it to the paper and maybe for one indignant nude photo of me it might make enough for my own column. Might.
Back to the situation at hand. So far I had bee left alone for a considerable amount of time. I wiggled my ass to try loosen my bindings but no such luck. Whoever tied me like this knew what they were doing.
Suddenly I felt something pull out the ball gag giving me not enough time to tell before I felt what must have been a cock sliding down my throat. It was invisible as no one was there but they had to be in order to stuff my throat with a warm and quite tasty cock.
It wasn’t long before I felt my back passage give way to another warm and strangely bumpy cock.
Whatever was happening I knew I was getting spit-roasted. My virginity was gone of that I’m sure.
I felt a hand grab my red hair and shove the rest of its cock up my quivering ass. The one in front reciprocated and I had to breathe through my nose in order to stay awake but most importantly alive.
I was impaled for what must have been an hour or two. Then they stopped and withdrew their cocks.
I was then dragged towards the roundabout and tied again. This time they mounted me together. For some reason I felt no pain as they shoved in and out in a rhythmic manner. I could only moan as a third party had their longer cock in my mouth.
Soon I felt warm liquid filling me up and I was then lifted and strapped spread eagle to the climbing netting. Invisible spunk could be felt trickling down my legs. I was thoroughly exhausted but I knew I had a story to tell that would make me get my column no doubt about that.
The only thing was how to get out of my predicament now?
I did not feel any presence near me. I felt quite warm but it was not due to the supernatural weather I had experience. To my horror I noticed the mist was slowly moving away, evaporating and the grey sky had disappeared altogether and the sun was back shining down. I was now looking at the rest of Cookham Park as clearly as a freshly cleaned window.
I suddenly noticed I was still strapped to the netting and was completely naked.
I tried the straps but to no effect.
Suddenly I saw in the distance a mother with a pram and two little children running towards this very playground..
Shit shit shit shit ssssss….
I was cut short of my fowl mouth by a hand unstrapping my body and carrying me away into nearby bushes.
It was a man. Not just a man but Martin….Martin Strange the homeless man.
He had a grin on his face as he gave me back my clothes he had rescued.
“My my young man.” Martin started.
”They have done a number on you. Haven’t they?”
I did not know what to say.
Martin noticed confusion on my face and then lifted some instant photos from out his pocket.
“Here. Look. This is what happened. I saw everything.”
I looked and saw me being buggered by nobody.
“They are invisible you see. When I came to this forest I saw them but they disappeared so I stayed the night and that’s when it happened. Forced out my tent and tied naked over a tree they used me just the same way. Then left but I had a knife and cut through my bindings. Unfortunately I ran straight into the police and ended up in nick. I only came out today due to them believing I was a drunk plus I smelt.”
I couldn’t think of what to say. My mind a blank.
“Look kid. I couldn’t save you from the buggering but I did save you from the impending embarrassment. Would you mind giving me some money? I’ll be on the street as I dare not come here again and I think you don’t either. Do you?”
I did not know the answer. Was I happy of the experience or was I not?
Martin looked down at me and gave me a wink.
“I think you liked that. I’m sure of it. Anyway I must be off. If I give you these pictures would you give me money for accommodation?”
What could I say? The man helped me and saved my job with the photos. Of course my boss loved them but thought I had photoshopped them. Either way I got the money and now I write for my own column with the memory of what happened that day in Cookham Park.
Thanks for reading. There will be more tasty reading very soon….i hope.
