Some people I fuck with because it amuses me. Others I fuck with because it makes me hot. And then there are those that God placed on the earth just to be abused, and it is my responsibility to fuck with them every chance I get.
Right from the I knew Rusty was one of those boys that fall into the responsibility category. When Rusty was a senior in high he only stood about five foot, four. He had hair so red it was almost and his face was covered with freckles. He weighed about ninety-five lbs. He had ears that stuck and his eyes were too close together, and overall he just had to be the homeliest boy in my school. To make matters he was a chatterbox who never had a clue when he should just shut up, and made a lot of smartass remarks besides. Every day something would happen to Rusty. If one of his classmates didn't do something to Rusty, then God would. Every day it was something.
For years Rusty had been in the habit of following me around. I wouldn't let him hang around with me because I didn't like him. But, no matter how much indifference and contempt I treated him with, he still followed me everywhere. I would humiliate him every chance I got because it just seemed like the right thing to and to be honest I really enjoyed it. And yet, no matter how bad I treated Rusty, every time I turned around he was almost always there staring at me. I remember one time in sixth when I had broken the master link on my bike chain. Rusty had been right there behind me. He told me that if I came over to his I could borrow a spare master link he had and use it to fix my bike.
So, after I got my bike home that evening, I went over to his house to get it. When I got I walked up on the front porch. I could hear some hollering going on inside. They had a wood frame screen door that was closed, but the inside door was standing open. So, I walked up and looked in through the screen. could see me because it was already dark outside and the front porch light wasn't turned on. When I looked in, Rusty was there, and so was his stepfather, who was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. He was sitting on the couch with Rusty's head in his lap, and he was holding it pressed into his crotch. Rusty was bent over with his pants and shorts down around his ankles and his bare ass exposed. His stepfather was beating his ass with a piece of garden hose and calling Rusty a worthless little sissy and a waste of space and other shit like that. So, I knocked on the and the old man dropped the hose and started putting something back inside his shorts real quick, while at the same time telling Rusty to pull up his pants.
I can't swear that I saw exactly what I thought I saw, but who is there to say I didn't.
"My stepfather's been doing that kind of thing just about every day since Mom ran off," he said. "The hardest thing to get used to is the spanking, and when I scream, he just gives me more."
I told him I was sure that getting spanked wasn't the only hard thing he had to get used to.
"Yeah, you're he said, "but now that I'm learning how to please him, it’s not so bad, and maybe you'll think I'm but I'm even getting to like it the way things are
"You always were I thought to myself, "with that mouth of yours that never shuts up. Well, maybe you finally found something to do with your mouth that doesn't annoy people."
For a long time , almost every time I walked by his place I would hear what sounded like Rusty screaming or his old man moaning like he was about to cum. I was tempted to go look through the screen door again, but after that one night, it seemed like the porch light was always lit.
During my senior year in high school, I would go to gym class, change into my gym clothes and stick my street clothes in my locker. After , I would put my regular clothes back on once I had showered. But, after a my underwear began to disappear. I knew my stuff was locked up when I went outside for gym class, but when I opened my locker to put my gym shorts and jock strap in before going for my shower, my underwear would be gone. I couldn't figure out what was going on, but after a month of losing underwear, I decided I wasn't going to lose . So, I started going commando. For another month or so this way of dealing with the problem worked. Without me wearing underwear, there were none to disappear. But, then one day my jock strap was missing. I replaced it with another, but that one also vanished while I was in the shower. It was a real mystery which I couldn't solve until I noticed that Rusty was leaving the shower before I was done.
That struck me as being strange because as long as I had known him, he had never taken his eyes off my naked body. This was my clue that he was up to something. So, the next time I was taking a shower after gym class I acted like I was paying no attention to Rusty (this wasn't hard to do because I usually ignored him anyway). Then, as soon as he left the showers, I followed. Like I thought he would do, he went straight to my locker and used my combination to open it. I saw him take my jock and press it to his face and inhale deeply.
But, I was right behind and I pushed him head first into the locker and then shoved the rest of his body inside it, too. He started telling me some lie about how he had found my locker open and was just trying to close it for me, but I had seen exactly what he had done and knew it was a lie. So, I shut the locker door and snapped the lock shut to make sure the little faggot stayed put. Then I put my face up real close to the vents in the locker door.
"Don't you fucking dare to make a sound or I will really kick your ass! I'll be back when school gets out. In the since you like sniffing my dirty jock, faggot, you will have lots of time to smell it."
After school, and some of the guys went back to the locker room and dragged the little faggot out of my locker. We took his towel away from him which he had wrapped around his waist. It was all he had to cover himself with. We told him to get his clothes out of his own locker and give them to us; both his gym stuff and his street clothes.
We made him take all his clothes into the shower area and throw them on the floor. Then, we whipped out our dicks and pissed on them. Rusty tried to grab his stuff and yelled at us to stop, but we just shoved him down on top of his clothes and on him too. We took turns hosing him down with our nice hot pee until we were all pissed out. Then, we took his piss-soaked shirt and used it to tie his hands to the shower head and spent the next half hour or so seeing which of us could make him scream loudest, as we blistered his ass by snapping it with wet towels.
The little faggot was crying like a baby when I finally untied his hands. He fell to his knees on the shower room floor, and I grabbed him by the hair of his head and rubbed his face in my crotch and told him that if he liked the smell of my I would be happy to help him. I him across the face a few times, shoved him to the floor, and kicked him in the balls.
Well, at about 11:30 PM Rusty showed up at my house with all the underwear and socks he had stolen from my locker, and all laundered and smelling as fresh as the great outdoors. I didn't have an exact count of the stuff he had so he could have kept maybe one or two of underwear, but I don't think he would have dared because I really had put the fear of God, and more especially of me, into the little faggot. Anyway, I got my stuff back, so I let him show me how well he could suck dick.
From the way he gave me head, I figured that I must be right in thinking that he had gotten several years of practice so that he could become a real cocksucker because he was pretty good at it. Enough so, that I still let him come around to give me an occasional blow job nowadays. I still don't like looking at him, but I can always put something over his head or make him wear a mask. But, I do still love to humiliate the little cocksucker every chance I get. The way I look at it, it’s just what God intended.