Father’s Friend: A Second Chance

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The summer before my freshman year of college I went to stay with my dad’s old friend Ken for two and a half months.

I was enrolled in a summer class, but my parents couldn’t really afford housing for me outside of the regular semester. Luckily, Ken lived 20 minutes from campus, lived alone, and had room in his condo to spare. It was the perfect set up.

Ken was a nice guy, very friendly, welcoming and easy going. His wife had died 5 years before. He had never remarried but always seemed to have a smile on his face or a joke to tell. We got along great but I noticed a few odd things. Ken would leave the house late at night and usually not come back until early the next morning.

I figured he might be out drinking, or maybe the poor lonely guy was visiting hookers. Wasn’t my place to judge, and it didn’t effect me so I didn’t much care.

One afternoon, after I’d been there for about 2 weeks, I came home early after my professor cancelled class. As I entered the house Ken and another guy I’d never met before were standing in the doorway chatting. They both looked at me, surprised, said a hurried goodbye, and as they passed, Ken gave the guy an envelope and he quickly turned and left.

Ken didn’t look at me, he just went into his office and didn’t come out for the rest of the day. I had no idea what was going on, the interaction definitely seemed awkward but I had no idea what I had really just witnessed. It all became clear later that night.

Around 10 pm as I was sitting on the couch watching a movie, Ken emerged from his office and sat down across from me, he said, “Hey Steve, mind if we talk?”

Ken seemed very nervous, looking at the floor running his hands through his thinning brown hair.

“Sure,” I said, “what’s up?”

He stammered, “That young man you saw here today, I … I mean I don’t want living here to be uncomfortable for you, it’s just that…Steve, I’m gay.”

I was honestly shocked. It hadn’t occurred to me that that was what was going on at all. What came next was even more shocking.

“Steve, I was married for 15 years when my wife died, and I lived with the urges to be with men. When I lost my wife, I knew I had to try it, but I had no idea how to pick up guys. So that guy you saw today…was a prostitute.”

I gulped. This was getting kinda crazy, and my own repressed urges started to creep into my head.

He continued, “It all started 3 weeks after she died, I went on a website called Gay.com, have you heard of it?”

Now it was my turn to be uncomfortable, “Uh maybe I have, not really my thing though.” That was a lie. Ever since I was 13 I’d secretly fantasized about men. My family was Catholic and conservative, I never allowed myself to think I might actually be gay. But when I was 17 I started going in to chat rooms on Gay.com.

He was really nervous now, sweat on his brow, his eyes wide. He said “I’d chat with guys on there, young guys like your age, and they’d send me nude pictures, and I’d get so horny chatting with them but I could never convince any of them to get together with me. So I started finding male escorts. And I’d have sex with them. And pay them, and they’d leave. And I’d feel soo depressed.”

I thought he was going to start crying, and then he got quiet. “One night last summer I was chatting with this guy who called himself Steve. He was so sexy, submissive, and eager to please. He sent me pictures of himself, he was so hot. Tall and lean, almost feminine, I printed out all his pictures and stared at him while we chatted. And he seemed to like me, like really be into me sexually. He asked to see what I looked like, and I panicked. I mean I’m not model material.” This was technically true, Ken was short and stocky but not out of shape. He had thinning messy hair and frankly he dressed like a construction worker. “So I stole a picture off the internet of some hot guy about my age, and sent it to Steve. When he Ataşehir Travesti got it he asked to meet me.”

I thought my heart was going to stop.

“We arranged to meet one weekend halfway between here and Chicago.” My blood ran cold. I lived in Chicago as you might have already guessed. “And I stood him up, worried he’d take one look at me and laugh. All I wanted was a real hot guy to want me. To not have to pay for sex finally, and I couldn’t go thru with it because I was ashamed.”

It was then I noticed the messy stack of paper next to Ken on the table. He picked it up and said, “He was so sexy, I can show you…” I looked at the pictures, and even though I knew what I was about to see I was still shocked. Printed out on paper that had clearly been repeatedly drenched in semen were pictures of a tall, skinny nude body. My body.

I was speechless.

After a few minutes passed, Ken broke the silence “I’m sorry I stood you up.”

I flashed back to the night the previous summer. How I’d spent a week working up my courage to go through with this. To not chicken out. To fulfill my fantasy. I’d been ready then. And then, nothing happened.

“Knowing it was you, knowing it WASN’T me, I couldn’t go through with it. You probably would have called the cops.”

Without planning my next words I said, “I wouldn’t have. Especially knowing what I know now. My courage was coming back, and realizing what was likely about to happen, and how utterly wrong and depraved it was, was turning me on. I said, “Remember all the thing we chatted about that night? How I wanted you to take my virginity? How I wanted you to use me, how I wanted you to punish me?” He still looked at me nervously,

“I remember.”

“Well I’ve spent another year being frustrated, and I’m still a virgin, and knowing it’s you and knowing that you spent the last year enjoying these pictures…I just want you to know that I feel the same way as I did then. And it makes it even hotter that I know your secret, and you know mine.” I looked at him, worried that the sexy, dirty man I had chatted with was as much a fiction as the picture he sent me and then he said,

“Well in that case, go into my bedroom, and take off all your clothes, except your underwear. Then wait for me. And Steve,” he said sternly almost menacingly, “if you really want this to happen then you need to know there are some rules. You are mine now, you’ll do what I say, when I say. The boy I chatted with last summer was a cock hungry submissive little fag who needed to be abused. That’s what I’ll be expecting.” He looked away dismissively, “now go.”

I was trembling as I walked into his small messy bedroom. I’d fantasized about sex with men. I’d come close that night last summer but here I was. It was happening. I stood in front of the mirror in his room. My hands shook as I unzipped my hoodie, and pulled my t-shirt over my head. The cold air in the room, or was it my nerves made my whole body shiver. My tiny nipples were hard as rocks. I unzipped my jeans, let them crumple to the floor and stepped out of them. I looked at myself in his mirror. Tall 6’1 so slender that the muscles in my arms and stomach were easily visible. But it wasn’t a moment of vanity, it was a moment of insecurity, would I live up to his fantasies, and how far would he take the abuse thing? Could I handle it?

As I wondered, the door opened and he walked in. He looked me up and down, and said lustily, “what a pretty little faggot.”

Fully dressed, he walked to me and ran his hands over my hairless chest and stomach. He reached down and cupped my bulging package between my young slender thighs and gave it a hard squeeze.

“You know what I like about you Steve,” I almost prepared to be flattered, “how fucking dumb you are. Sending naked pictures of yourself to strangers on the internet. So dumb. Every time I unloaded on your pictures I thought about what a Anadolu yakası travesti stupid fucking airhead you are.” He chuckled and reached up pinching my nipple hard. He stepped back and wordlessly pulled his tshirt over his head, revealing a massive hairy chest and sizable beer belly. “Only a dumb attention whore faggot like you would let an ugly old bull like me treat you like this.” I didn’t know if he wanted me to reply so I stood their mute. His abusive words turning me on somehow, my cock was straining against the thin powder blue cotton of my briefs. He stepped back towards me and gently ran his hand between my thighs, parting them and then without warning pulled back and delivered a hard smack to my scrotum that just missed incapacitating me.

He was wearing khaki shorts, which he slipped out of, to reveal he wasn’t wearing underwear. His thighs were short and thick, covered in thick black hair, and between his legs hung a long, thick curved cock, that was drooling precum.

“This is what a real man looks like, you skinny fag” he laughed as he walked to a closet and pulled out a small black bag. The bag was the kind that men keep their golf shoes in. He unzipped it, and emptied it’s contents onto the bed behind me.

I was literally taken aback as I turned around to see what was in the bag. He reached back and slapped me in the face,

“Don’t turn around unless I tell you to, Son.”

Before I knew what was happening he grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me so I was facing him. With amazing speed he took a long cord, and looped one end around my neck, the other end he let dangle. With powerful hands he reached into my underwear and yanked them apart. They ripped at the seams, and he finished tearing them off me. He tied the dangling end of the cord at the base of my testicles, in such a way that my head jerked downward. If I lifted it, the noose around my scrotum would tighten. I was hunched over and restrained. He forced me down to my knees and he sat on the very edge of the bed in front of me.

“You look like a little faggot altar boy on your knees with your head bowed,” he said “now get your hot mouth on my cock, and keep your head down.” I moved in so I was right between his hairy thighs, I leaned in, inhaling the sweaty manly scent of his cock which it occurred to me had been inside the young man I saw earlier that day, and I slowly started kissing my way up and down his long upturned shaft. His salty pre-cum had made it’s way down his cock and I tasted it, thick and pungent on my tongue. I turned my attention to his heavy, fat balls, when all of a sudden he said, “Too dumb to suck a cock right” and with that he pulled my face toward his lap and thrust his hips towards me, shoving his cock into my throat. I gagged and he kept going, pumping that big fat dick into my face, his pubes crushing against my nose. I dry heaved over and over, so hard that my ribs and stomach hurt from contracting so violently.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunted, “choke on it, Son.” Tears were running down my face, drool from my mouth, mixed with his pre-cum. The assault had no mercy, his body was ripe and thick with sweat as he banged into my face. My lips stretched pornographically around his thick penis as he thrust upward. He held his cock in the back of my throat ’til I gagged then pulled out. I was gasping, getting dizzy, and yet I could still feel my own cock throbbing between my legs. This was definitely what I deserved; what I needed, the powerful, unforgiving attention of a man who had decades of repressed desires to unleash. And then he unleashed. He was panting, pulled his cock out of my mouth, grabbed my hair and pulled my face upwards, which yanked hard on my testicles as the cord tightened around them. I yelped in pain as I felt the warm, salty liquid splash on my nose, lips, cheeks, and eyelids. He laughed heartily “ohhhhh god yes!”

He came a ton, and I felt it dripping lazily Bursa Travesti down my face, dripping onto my neck and chest obscenely. I thought he’d lay back spent, maybe I’d have a chance to catch my breath. But I had no such luck. He grabbed me and pulled me up on the bed, my head bent low now. Trying hard to relieve the pressure on my tender young balls. My ass was up in the air. I heard him retrieve something from the scattered toys on the bed. Then I felt it, cold gel being applied to my virgin butthole. Liberal amounts of the glop ran between my small round cheeks as he pressed a dull pointy object against my anus and penetrated me. I screamed. It hurt bad. It wasn’t a cock; either a dildo or a butt plug I guessed between gasps and whimpers. I felt full as though I had to shit. My virgin sphincter clenched and worked around it as if it were being electrocuted. My hard-on never left me.

He slapped my buttocks hard, several times, I could feel them burning. Then he pushed me over and rolled me onto my back. My head pushed toward my chest, my legs up in the air obscenely. The cord still wrapped around my testicles. My cock was so hard it hurt and he could tell. He hissed,

“I want you to jack yourself off slowly, but if you cum before I tell you to, I’ll beat the fuck out of you and call every guy I know to come over here and take turns raping your ass.”

I was thrilled to have his permission to touch my needy young dick. I started slowly masturbating, and he set to work on my balls. He started squeezing them, almost delicately. Then started slapping them, pulling on them hard, occasionally pushing the butt plug in deeper. He was hurting me. Calling me names. Spitting on my face which was crusted with his now drying semen. I jacked off through it all, my whole body straining against the orgasm building like a tornado deep inside me. Sweat was dripping down my legs towards my body in rivers; pre-cum was oozing down my slick, shiny erection. Finally he said, “Now! cum now!” A few more pumps and my body exploded. My sperm launching out of my cock landing on my own face and throat. He scooped it with his fingers and directed it into my mouth, rubbing some into my face.

My whole body was shaking, my lips were numb, and I was crying. Joy, pain, release, humiliation all in one. I was happy, delirious, but sobbing.

He wasn’t done.

He released me from the cord restraint, and yanked me roughly off the bed so that my chest head and arms were resting on the mattress. My knees were on the ground…

I felt him yank the butt plug from my now opened anus, and he said, “In case you were hoping this would be over with quick, I took a handful of Viagra this morning.”

As if to prove his point I felt him rub the length of his prodigious upturned manhood down the crease between my small supply young butt cheeks, before centering the fat head of his thick mean old cock at my tight quivering asshole. The butt plug had prepared me for the shock of his penetration. He pushed into me with a grunt, his cock felt like hot steel entering me. He held me firmly by the hips, and pushed steadily towards my guts. It took him a few minutes but he got up some speed, he balls slapping between my legs.

“How’s it feel bitch? Your daddy’s old buddy using your sweet asshole.” He grunted, I whimpered, feeling like I might pass out.

“Take it boy, take this old man cock deep. You dumb little whore, I’m going to rape you every chance I get. Fuck. Fuck that asshole feels good Steve. Fuck boy I’m going to cum in your guts you little cock teasing bitch.”

I was screaming into his filthy mattress, my cock hard again, the head of his tool banging into my prostate every now and then. He slapped my butt cheeks. He pulled my hair and finally he breathlessly said,

“I’m going to spray your insides with my sperm Steve” as he came, without touching my own dick, I erupted; long hot painful streams of my semen pumping into his bedspread as I felt him fill my body with his sperm.

He pulled out of me, pushed me down and pushed his belly toward my face.

“Open up” he said. I obeyed. He pushed his cock, slick with lube, a little blood, sweat, and the taste of my own anus into my mouth.

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