Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between young men. If you find such material offensive or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't read any further. Remember to practice safe sex: this story is a fantasy in which STDs don't exist!
(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
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"Let go of me, Chris!" I was struggling against a headlock. Chris and his buddies had found me peeping in the bedroom window of his house and watching while his big brother Greg and my big brother Bob were fucking the shit out of their dates. They caught me literally with my pants down and my cock dripping in my hand.
"No way, perv," Chris said, as he started to drag me around the side of the house with the help of his friends. "I think it's time you met my big brother and explained what you were doing out here."
"Wait a minute, Chris, my man." The voice was a familiar one--it was Nick! " Did you see what the perv did? He shot his load all over the side of your house. Now I personally find that disgusting. You gonna let him get away with that? Know what I'd make `im do? I'd have him clean all that ball juice right off the wall. Otherwise it's like the fag fucked your house, ya know, and that ain 't right."
"Hey, buddy," Chris said stopping in his tracks, "you're right. This fag has some cleanin' up to do before he meets Greg. Ya hear that fag? Who the fuck gave you permission to shoot your fag cum all over my house. I ought to kick the shit out of you . . . Now I'm gonna give you a choice: either you clean every spot of cum off that wall or your goin' home in a stretcher. Now what's it gonna be?" I saw Nick grinning wickedly in the background.
"Come on Chris," I begged. "I didn't mean to do it. It just happened." Chris balled his fists and looked at me hard. "Okay," I said, pulling off my shirt. "I'll clean it up right now." I started toward the wall under the bedroom window that I had doused with my jizz. I began to wipe at the sticky mess. A strong hand grabbed my wrist.
"Oh no you don't, fag," Chris said with a broad grin on his face. " I want you to lick that shit off with your tongue, and I want you to get it all."
I couldn't believe it. He actually wanted me to lick the side of his house with my tongue! Luckily the Fosters had aluminum siding so I wouldn't cut my tongue on shingle, but still it was coated with a heavy layer of dust and dirt from the weather. How in God's name could I lick up that stuff? I considered running, but I was surrounded. Besides Chris still had an iron grip on my wrist. Still, I thought it was worth trying. I suddenly made a choking sound like I was sick to my stomach, and began to fall to the ground. This confused Chris enough to let go of my wrist (probably afraid I was gonna barf on him) and step back. The others did the same, opening up a path for me. In a flash I rolled over, pushed Nick out of the way and made a run for the woods. With satisfaction I heard Nick swear as he lost his balance and fell heavily on his ass. There was a chorus of obscenities as the group took off after me.
I didn't have much of a head start, but I was literally running for my life. I wasn't even so concerned about licking the wall or even what they might do to me if they caught me. What I absolutely didn't want was being exposed to Bob as a fag and a perv. I just didn't think I could take that. So I ran like the wind. The woods were unfamiliar and I crashed through the dark underbrush with branches whipping against my face. But apparently Chris and his friends were none too steady on their feet either. They had been partying and must have consumed large amounts of beer, which slowed them down. I heard several other guys trip over their own feet and fall loudly to the ground.
I decided that the best thing would be to find a place to hide and be as quiet as possible. The guys didn't have flashlights, and their sense of direction was none too good, considering all the booze they had drunk. They groped around in the dark for awhile, coming so close to me once that I was sure they had seen me and were playing a game. Finally they moved away from me.
"Shit, Nick," Chris screamed, "that fucker got away! Unless we find him we got no way of provin' he was here. Greg thinks I make up things anyway, and I don't think he's gonna believe me. I don't know about his buddy. Shit, I gotta find out who the hell that guy is. I wanna see if he knows the fag."
From my hiding place behind a large tree I could see that the group decided to go back in the house and probably fortify themselves with another round. Jeez, I wondered where Chris' parents were: obviously not home or they never would have allowed those guys to be guzzling beer the way they were (nor my bro to be banging some chick in the back room!)
"Anyway," Chris was saying, "I'll be seenin' the fag tomorrow and he won' t be able to get away then. We got him right where we want him," he laughed. " Besides," he said, dangling something in his hand, "I got a little added insurance right here." With that, his buddies followed him up on the front porch and disappeared through the door.
What had Chris been showing his buds? Oh, shit, it was probably my house keys! Now I was screwed for sure. A bunch of those drunken jocks would probably break into my house later tonight. At least Bob would be around to help face `em down--maybe! In any case, I'd have a lot of explaining to do.
Numb all over with my jeans still a sticky mess, I hobbled back down the road to my car and drove home, dreading what tomorrow (or tonight!) might bring. What stuck in my mind most was Chris' comment about Bob: "I gotta find out who the hell he is. I wanna see if he knows that fag."
I had been awake most of the night jumping at every noise I heard, sure that Chris and his pals had come by to teach me a lesson. It must have been 3:00 am when I finally fell asleep.
"Hey Davey!" Bob bellowed as he burst through the door the next morning while I was sitting sleepily with my cereal and coffee. I almost jumped out of my chair. This was the moment I dreaded. What had Chris told Bob last night? I could just imagine the scene . . .
"What the hell, Chris!" Greg had whispered. "Don't you even bother to knock, you little shit." Greg was still buck naked as was his girl, who pulled up the sheets to cover her boobs--modest little bitch!
"Sorry, Greg," Chris whined, "but I've been dyin' to meet your buddy."
"Shit!" Greg bellowed, getting more and more annoyed at this intrusion of his little bro. "Okay, this is my bud, Bob Stanton (Bob gave a sleepy thumbs up). Now get the fuck out of here!"
"Bob Stanton!" Chris exclaimed excitedly, "Hey, you got a brother Dave?"
"Yeah," said Bob, absently fondling his girls tits. "Ya know him?"
"I sure do!" Chris yelled with a big grin on his face as he started for the door, "gotta have a talk with you about ol' Davey real soon. He's a perv, ya know." The door slammed behind him.
"Fuckin' little brothers," Greg commented to no one in particular. "They're always nosin' around where they don't belong. Hey, did he just say your brother was a perv? . . ."
"Hey Davey," Bob said, waking me out of my daydream. I met Greg's little bro last night. Said that he knows you real well."
Now I had a decision to make: Tell Bob everything I'd been up to lately (except the fact that his bod and his boots turned me on), or risk having Chris or one of his buddies do it. I was already late for class and automatically got up and headed for the door. Then I stopped short. How could I face Chris after what happened last night? What would he do? How pissed off was he, seeing me jacking off on his house (while watching our brothers!), and then embarrassing him in front of his buddies by getting away? My mind was spinning. I decided on the spot that I would go to school, face whatever Chris might dish out, and then have an straight-forward talk with Bob tonight. I didn't know which I dreaded more!
I stopped at the Foster house and was greeted once again by Chris' mom. She invited me in for a Danish (Chris was late, as usual). Meanwhile Chris' younger brother Danny came down the steps and made his customary dash for the door to catch the bus. "Bye, ma," he hollered, and then added: "I see the fag's here again."
"Danny!" Chris' mom shouted, but her words were lost as the door slammed shut. Then to me: "I'm sorry, Dave. I don't know what's gotten into him, but I' m going to find out when he gets back from school. I don't want him calling you or anyone else those kind of names."
Just then Chris came down the steps. "What kind of names?" he asked.
"Never mind," she said.
"Hey, Davey-boy," Chris said, looking at me without betraying any kind of emotion. "You ready for another great day at school?"
As we pulled out of Chris' driveway he was unusually silent, which made me more nervous than if he started screaming or even punching me. He watched me sweat for a few minutes.
"You look a bit up-tight today, fag. Why is that?" Not really expecting an answer he continued: "Ya know, I gotta give you credit. I didn't think you'd be able to get away from us the way you did last night. I almost wanted to slap you on the back--before I kicked your ass, that is! Anyway, today is payback time so you better be ready."
"Listen, Chris," I said. "I did something, I'm not proud of . . . I mean, um, jackin off on your house and that . . ." He cut me off.
"Hey, faggot, let's get one thing straight. You weren't turned on by my house. You were watchin' my brother . . . shit! . . . and your own damn brother too, fuckin' those bitches. What kinda motherfucker are you?" He sounded totally disgusted.
I think my whole body was one big blush. Why had I done it? I had just gone over to Chris' house out of curiosity, and then . . .
"Okay, man," Chris said, " I admit that we were havin' some fun with you before. Shit you're such a wimp you pretty much asked for it. But this . . . shit you really are a perv, and you're gonna get what you deserve. See ya later perv," he said as he hopped out of the car.
"Chris, wait!" I shouted. He didn't turn back.
I seriously considered turning the car around and going straight home. Who knew what kind of bizarre stunt those jerks were planning, Trouble was, they knew where I lived, and now even had a key to the house. They could harass and embarrass me any time they wanted to and even vandalize the house. No, it was better to face it now. I thought about Allen. What would he think when he found out there was a lot more to the story than I had told him? Would he still be my friend? I had certainly strained that friendship with my half-truths, but I just couldn't bring myself to tell him everything that was going on.
I saw Allen in the hallway between classes. "What's the matter with you?" he said. "You look awful."
"Well," I said, "I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night."
"I can understand that, after what happened to you yesterday. Listen, Dave, you gotta report those guys that pissed on ya. If you don't, it's just gonna get worse. Do it!" he said and walked off down the hall. "Let me know what happens," he said, almost as an afterthought.
Yeah, I thought, it was easy for him to say. He didn't have half the football team after him and smelling blood. I went from class to class waiting for disaster to strike. It happened right after lunch.
Since their run-in with coach after the shower incident, the jocks were super careful not to try anything with me around the gym. They did grin at me during P.E. (Chris glared), but didn't come near me. But they jumped me when I was going to relieve myself after lunch in the cafeteria .
As I was going through the bathroom door, hands pushed me forward, propelling me in. I lost my balance on the slippery floor and sprawled down on my face. My glasses went flying and I heard a crunch as somebody stepped on them. I had hardly hit the floor when they picked me up and steered me toward a urinal. I heard my good friend Chuck behind me yelling: "Give him a taste! He looks thirsty."
Then somebody grabbed me by the back of the neck and pushed my head into the urinal. Meanwhile, somebody else started the water running. I tried to resist, but it was like trying to stop a bulldozer. My head dipped into the bowl and water started pouring over my face. The urinal hadn't been washed and the smell almost made me pass out. Since yesterday I was really getting initiated into water sports!
"Ya like that, dipshit?" Chuck shouted. "Check him out Lar, see if he's got a boner yet."
"Not yet," Larry snickered, looking at the front of my slacks, "but he's about half mast. Give him another minute and he'll be ready spray Chris' house again. The guys howled at that--everybody, that is, except Chris.
"You guys are a fuckin' riot," he snarled, "now let's get on with it!"
Laughing, Chuck pushed my face further into the urinal as it began to fill up. I started to choke as I inhaled water. I struggled without any effect. Were they gonna drown me?
Suddenly the hand pushing me by the back of my neck was gone. I heard a loud thud as my tormentor was knocked off his feet and fell to the floor.
"What the fuck is this?" I heard. "Six against one. I think I need to even things out a bit." I heard a punch followed almost immediately by another one, followed by two more crashes and several groans of pain. I knew the voice immediately. It was Bob's!
"So," Bob said, "is this what you wanted to talk to me about, you little motherfucker, that you assholes were ganging up on my brother?"
Dimly I heard Chris, his voice uncharacteristically touched with fear, try to calm down an enraged Bob. I mean, Chris was big, but by comparison, Bob was like a giant. "You don't understand, man. This was supposed to be a payback. Wait till you hear what your little brother did last night. He was watching . . ."
That was as far as Chris got when I heard a loud `Oof' as Bob's gut-punch knocked the wind out of him. Then I heard a scrambling as if the whole bunch of them were trying to clear out of the bathroom at the same time.
I felt like a drowned rat. I straightened up and tried to focus my vision. Bob and I were alone in the bathroom. I fumbled to pick up my shattered glasses.
"What are you doing here?" I asked Bob shakily.
"Your friend Allen called me. He was worried about you and told me there was a bunch of guys after you. I figured you might need some help."
I smiled gratefully at him. He did not smile back. He turned on his heels and marched out of the bathroom with me following him like a little puppy dog.
"Wait, Bob," I said, "I want to thank you for what you did. I . . ."
"Save it, faggot," Bob replied harshly. "I don't want to hear it. And from now on you fight your own battles. I saved your sorry ass this time, but that' s it. Those shitheads said you deserved what you were getting and I'm thinkin'
maybe they were right. Now stay away from me."
"Damn," I thought, "what should I do now?" Somebody had already told Bob enough of what had been going on that he was now totally pissed off and disgusted with me. As he left the classroom building I followed him at a distance, my afternoon classes totally forgotten.
I stood on the steps outside the building and watched Bob's (blurry) retreating form. Never looking back, he stormed over to his car and sped away.
My feelings were in an uproar. I was grateful that I had been saved, but feared that the price was too high. Had I just lost Bob's friendship? Would things ever be the same again, now that he knew (at least some of) my `interests'? And what about Allen: Had I used up what little trust was left in our relationship?
Shit, I had really made a mess of things. Yeah, I know, I was forced to do a lot of those things, but I kinda liked being forced. Those jocks had really turned me on. I willingly sucked their cocks and even enjoyed it. I was ashamed of some of the things I had done--but then again, should I be? I was totally confused at the moment and feeling terribly alone, having `lost' both my brother and my best friend because I had been thinking with my cock rather than with my head.
Slowly I walked through the parking lot to my own car. As I opened the door I looked at the stains on the back seat and felt my cock stirring again. Well, it looked like my little buddy was a lot more sure of himself right about now than I was.
I drove around for awhile, trying to clear my head. I was being kind of stupid since, without my glasses, I could have run somebody over. Luckily I had another pair at home, but I just wasn't ready to go back there yet. I stopped off at Burger King to get a burger and fries. Turns out I was still hungry even though I had just had lunch in the school cafeteria. Man, that seemed like ages ago! I sat at one of the booths for awhile, munching away and thinking about that other time when Bob and I had gone swimming and then came here for eats. I think that was the closest we had been in a long time . . . Finally I headed for home.
As I walked in the front door I almost tripped over Bob's duffel bag. I went into the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, reading the papers. "You're home early, Dave," she said. "No afternoon classes today?"
"No," I said vaguely. "Mom, why is Bob's duffel bag out in the hall?"
"Oh," she said, "didn't he tell you yet? He's leaving. He decided to cut his stay short. I'm disappointed about it and I know your father will be too, but you know your brother once he's made up his mind. He said something came up and he has to get back to the base. By the way," she added, "where are your glasses?"
Ignoring the question I asked: "Ah, when is he leaving, ma?"
She looked at me strangely. "Aren't you two talking any more? Ask him. He told me that he wanted to catch the noon flight out tomorrow."
(to be continued)