I knew it was wrong but I succumbed to temptation anyway. On my way to a lakeside barbeque with a large bunch of friends, I was driving down a quiet country road when I spied a large watermelon patch. No one was in sight, so I thought "Why not take a few melons to the party?" I stopped, got out of my car and looked around. There was only the sound of crickets and tree frogs in the dying sunset -- no sign of anyone. So I tentatively stepped into the edge of the field, chose a melon, and ran back with it to my car. I repeated this maneuver and deposited a second inside. Then, as I was about to break the stem of a third, I became aware of a presence standing above me. He was a tall muscular bear with a two-day stubble, wearing a sleeveless shirt, hat and loose overalls, carrying a shotgun.
"Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, young fella?"
Scared shitless, I muttered, "Nothing, sir."
"So you are helping yourself to my watermelons, are you?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I know it was wrong. I'll certainly pay for them," I said, reaching back for my wallet.
"You'll pay alright, you fucking thief, but it's not gonna be quite that easy." He moved forward to my car, opened the passenger door and started to get in. "Get in your car, buddy, and start driving. Turn right at the driveway just down the road."
Seated inside, he was holding his gun so he could point it at me at a moment's notice. I was trembling with fear, but managed to do what he said. The next half-mile seemed like an endless journey. Suddenly I desperately needed to pee, but had no immediate prospect of being able to relieve myself. Dust flew up behind my car as we went down the narrow unpaved driveway to an unpainted house and a large unpainted barn. Clearly this was a reasonably large but not prosperous farm. When we reached the house he told me to stop and turn off the motor. Then he told me to get out of the car and put the watermelons I had taken on the front porch. He got out and watched, still holding the gun. It was bloody awkward making two trips to his porch as he watched.
When I finished, I started muttering an apology, hoping he would let me go. But he put up his hand to signal me not to speak. "Not so quick, bud. I think it's about time you learned a lesson. Now about that payment I mentioned in the field . . . You see that barn over there? That's where we're going." I was really terrified now.
"Please, sir, let me go. I promise I'll never, ever do anything like this again. I'm really sorry. I'll be glad to buy a bunch of watermelons."
He sneered. "It ain't gonna be that easy." I looked around, hoping there would be someone else whose presence would deter him from any dire actions, but except for him the place seemed deserted. It was getting dark, so as we entered the barn and he flipped a switch and a few bare light bulbs cast a dim glow inside. "See that ladder to the hayloft? Climb up. I'll be right behind you, so don't try any funny business." I climbed, wondering if this was going to be the last place I'd ever see. He was right behind me, his shotgun suspended on his shoulder by a strap.
When we got to the loft there was one dim light and a lot of hay. There was also some kind of wooden contraption between two upright supports that may have had to do with the hay but I couldn't tell what. Still holding the shotgun, he said "Strip!"
"Oh, sir," I began . . ." but he shushed me.
"Take your fucking clothes off -- all of `em -- now!" He watched as I removed first one garment and then another, trying to delay as long as possible the removal of my boxers. Meanwhile, he kicked off his shoes and then hitched off the straps of his overalls, which he stepped out of as they fell to the floor, while he still held the shotgun. I had never thought of myself as being attracted to men, but I involuntarily gasped as a wave of strange feeling swept through my insides. When naked, except for the open sleeveless shirt and the hat, his stubbly face became a sexy extension of his furry muscled torso. I couldn't imagine a more manly man.
A sadistic grin crossed his face as he observed my reaction. Then he called out, "Clem, get up here." It was the first inkling I had of there being anyone else around, but obviously he had either a helper or a partner who had already been in the barn. At once there were footfalls on the ladder rungs and in a moment the head of the guy in the other pic appeared. When he was in the loft he said.
"Yeah, Buck, what you need?" So now I knew the name of my captor -- make that plural
"Tie this motherfucker to the crib frame here." He held the shotgun at the ready to make sure I obeyed without hesitation. Clem tied my left hand to one of the up rights and the right to the other, but in such a way that I had to bend over the crib, exposing my backside to full view. Then he secured my ankles, just to make sure I remained fixed in place.
I was petrified as to what would happen and I became aware again that I desperately needed to pee. "Please, sir," I began, "I don't know what you mean to do with me but I really have to pee."
"Fine, pee all you want. But for as long as you pee I'm gonna whap your ass with this slat -- like this," and he reached back and landed a fierce blow to my backside. It hurt, it really fucking hurt and I could imagine that it left a substantial bright welt. It made me lose control of my bladder and a stream of pee started. He was good for his word. Before I finished there were at least nine more swats. The pain was almost blinding, so I was grateful when he stopped.
"Funny, that makes me need to pee also." So he stood behind me and pissed directly on my inflamed ass. The salty liquid made it sting all the more. "What about you, Clem? Don't you need to pee too?" So Clem took up where Buck left off.
When that was over Buck came up behind me with some kind of grease and started lubing my asshole, sticking a finger deep inside. At first it hurt but then it didn't. I'd never felt that sensation before. Next he pressed up behind me and I could feel his dick against the length of my ass crack. He humped a bit and his cock began to grow. "You like that don't you, you thieving asshole?" I didn't answer, but he slapped my ass hard and I realized I'd better say yes. Well this teasing went on until his cock was fully hard, and then I realized he meant business.
The thrust through my sphincter nearly made me scream, but as he pushed further and further in I had some rather ambiguous feelings about what was happening. Well, long story short, Buck fucked me, first with long easy strokes then faster harder ones, until he was ramming me so hard my bones almost rattled. No question about it, he is one macho dude. But there's more. As Buck got into the long strokes, he told Clem to feed me his dick. So in fact I was being spit roasted, getting my face fucked as well as my ass. The two continued for quite a long time, because every time they were close to cumming they would pull out until the sensation subsided and then they would start all over again. Finally, as if they were hard wired for the same response, both started cumming at once. What a sensation to have both these studs streaming their seed in me at both ends! The truth to tell, I came too. In fact, I shot a big wad all over Clem's feet. When they saw it, the two men howled with laughter.
When they were finished and untied me, Buck made me lick his dick clean, then lick his ass. I had never done any of this before, but by the time it was over I had very mixed feelings about it. They didn't prolong it. Buck told me to dress and go down to my car and get the fuck off his farm and never, ever come back -- unless, he sneered, I wanted to come back for a night with him and Clem in the house. He also told me to take the watermelons.
When I finally got to the barbeque it was almost over, but the watermelons made a nice dessert. My friends all wondered why I was so late, why I walked so gingerly with the melons from my car, and why I stood up to eat. But I just smiled mysteriously and said, "It's a long story . . ."