I was in one of those fancy big new bookstores, you know, the kind with the coffee shop and CD room and all that shit, when my prick suddenly became achingly hard. I freely admit that I do not control my cock; it controls me. I want it that way. Perhaps at one time, it was a choice I made, I don’t remember, but I now let my cock lead me, and fortunately, I have the adventurous spirit and guts to follow even into potential danger.
So there I was in Barnes and Noble, and I saw this clerk. He was a typical bookstore worker—small, about five-foot-two, darkish hair, dark-rimmed glasses, not an athlete. He was about twenty or twenty-one but looked sixteen. His smooth boyish face showed no sign of a beard and a nice tight round ass to boot.
I knew at once that I had to have him. Not just fuck him, but also have him. Completely. He looked so fucking sensitive and intellectual that I just had to break him down into a crawling licking obedient fuck pig—no doubt ever crossed my mind for even a second that I could not do that. Perhaps that accounts for my amazing success; I never consider that I might fail. So I walk up to the precious little twink, and I kind of hover over him, two heads taller than he is.
“Eh…can I help you, sir?”
I like that, sir. But it was the “eh” that gave him away as a really insecure, fragile little pussy boy. I decided to back him into the wall immediately, emotionally I mean.
“Yeah, do you have any books on fucking?”
His eyes grew wide behind those glasses and his slightly curved nose kind of wrinkled. He blinked. He had the eyelashes of a Tammy Faye devotee.
“Eh…” There he went again. “The section on sexuality is upstairs.”
“Well, would you show me please, or are you too busy sorting out greeting cards?”
I was not going to let him off the hook for a moment. In that way, I could tell how submissive he was. If he balked, snapped back, or called a manager, I could back down, but the little cunt took the abuse.
“Ah…certainly…this way, please.”
I had a hell of a time keeping my hands off his ass cheeks on the elevator. He wore nice dark dress slacks that really showed his ass off to great advantage. I could see he was nervous. Maybe the twat boy was always nervous, or perhaps I made him nervous. I hoped it was the later. He led me past the sci-fi section and behind the murder and mystery books to a section of books on human relations and sexuality. I looked up and down the shelf, wearing an annoyed expression.
“Nah, haven’t you got any fuck books?”
“Well, I’m not sure exactly what you mean, I mean—
“You don’t know what I mean? Christ, do they hire eunuchs here or what? I am interested in books about fucking. People fucking. More specifically guys fucking guys.”
Even though it was summer, this cute puppy was not very tan, and now his face grew pink with embarrassment.
“Eh…the gay and lesbian section—”
I put one hand on his shoulder. I grabbed him just tight enough to hold him still. His whole body quivered.
“I don’t want books on the gay and lesbian lifestyle. I couldn’t give a shit about lifestyles. I want a good fuck book about guys fucking guys. You see, I’m really horny, and I want to beat my meat.”
He looked up at me and licked his lips. He looked good enough to eat when he did that.
“I can’t help you,” he said weakly.
“Sure you can. If I can’t find a good book to use, I’ll just have to use you.”
I kind of kneaded his shoulder with my hand. Shit, he wore an ugly necktie.
“I beg your pardon?”
I reached up and grabbed his soft skinned but nicely shaped jaw in my hand.
“That’s okay, this time. Only from now on I don’t want to have to repeat myself. Our relationship will consist of me telling you what to do, and then you to do it, got that?”
He dared to bring one hand up to grab my wrist, so I shook him off and slapped him hard. He could not believe I had just done that. He stood there one hand to his red face amid the books with his knees knocking. Would he yell out? I did not think so.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered, adjusting his glasses on his nose.
“I’m horny. I need to shoot a load. You don’t have any books to help me, so I’ll have to use you. It’s that simple.”
He gulped and tried to stand taller.
“Why don’t you go to a porn store for that? I’m going to call the manager.”
I could tell he wasn’t because he never moved. The sweat on him moved though, trailing down his cute face into his shirt collar. I smiled and ran fingers through my hair. Then I reached down and grabbed my dick and balls through my pants. His eyes went right down there like a good faggot.
“All right, you got me there. I owe you an apology. I was shy. I never really wanted a fuck book. Right from the start, I wanted to fuck your cute little ass.” He blinked behind his glasses and chewed his lower lip. He didn’t know where to put his hands, so they went in his pockets.
“You know, I’m not very good at approaching guys. I don’t always say the right thing. But now that we know where we both stand on the matter, why don’t we go into the bathroom and fuck?”
I could tell he thought he was in some kind of nightmare, which is where I wanted him to be. Confusion breeds submission.
“You got the wrong guy, mister. First of all, I’m not gay.”
I smiled, still squeezing my prick which had grown to eight inches down my trouser leg.
“So what? Did you hear me? I said ‘I’m not gay.’ ” His voice had gotten higher and thinner.
“Yes, I heard you, and frankly I don’t care. What does it matter to me what you are? I just want to fuck your cute ass.”
I moved in quickly and grabbed the back of his head. He had no time to escape. I twisted one arm up behind his back, pinning him against my body. I’m sure he felt my hard dick. I looked down into his sweet youthful face.
“Kiss me,” I said.
I yanked his arm up, and he went up on tiptoe, but I still had to lean down to plant my lips on his face. He tried to twist away, but not for long.
“If you want a broken arm, just keep doing that.”
I smashed my mouth against his full soft lips and then forced my tongue between them. He made a kind of moaning sound. I pulled back.
“Look cunt, you have one more chance. Open your mouth and swap spit with me, or I will fucking tear your goddamned arm out of its socket.”
He was like a fucking rag doll in my hands. It was almost too easy. I washed out the inside of his mouth with my tongue. It was during our first kiss that an old lady wandered down the aisle and saw us. She stopped cold, eyes bugging out of her blue-haired head.
“Excuse me,” she muttered and backed away.
She probably went home to finger her pussy for the first time in twenty years, so in a way, the kiss was a public service. After the kiss, I could see he was really freaked out. This was crucial to my plan. His lips were full of my spittle and a bit red where I had bitten him. His eyes were wild, and his sandy hair hung limp and wet across his forehead.
“Please…you can’t do this to me…you can’t,” he begged as I groped his crotch, feeling a nice but not massive lump of prick and ball flesh.
‘Please,’ perfect. The most perfect word in the English language. Please. Please equals submissive equals pussy equals fuck-pig slave-boy. I knew I had him and my dick gave a lurch.
“Shut up, I want to feel your ass.”
He stood there pressed against me shaking while I cupped and squeezed his ass cheeks. Then I stepped back and looked around. Nobody else was in sight. His white shirt was plastered to his slender body with sweat.
“Open your shirt and show me your tits,” I said quietly.
“No, I won’t!” he said.
THWACK! My hand slammed his soft young cheek, and you could see the fingerprints.
“Open your shirt.”
“Somebody, help!” he said quietly and with a minimum of energy. This boy was pussy in the making.
THWACK! His head snapped to the left, and he fell into a shelf of books knocking five or six to the carpet.
“If you ever do anything stupid like that again, I swear to God that I will squash your nuts to a pulp. Do you understand?”
I was holding him by the balls when I said this. He kind of waddled on tiptoe as I lifted his body by the crotch.
“Oh, god…oh, god…please…you can’t do this to me…I’m married…I’m a married man.”
That gave me pause.
“You, married? To a girl?”
He tried to plead with me.
“I told you, I’m not gay. I’m not your type. I’m straight. I just got married two months ago. I like girls.”
“I’ll bet you’re a real stud in bed with your bride. How often do you fuck her?”
He just stood there, his mouth moving but no words coming out. He was appalled. I grabbed his face and squeezed hard.
“How often do you fuck you wife?”
His glasses popped off his face and fell to the carpet. He started to cry hard.
“I don’t know...I don’t know.”
“You don’t know how often you fuck your wife? Wrong answer.”
I shook him by the head until his feet were off the ground.
“Oh, god…please…three or four times a week.”
“You pathetic cunt, a woman needs to be fucked three or four times a day by a real man-dick. Your marriage is doomed from the start. You were born to be a fucking pussy, and you know it. You just try to hide from it. How many dicks have you sucked?”
“Never…honest to God…never! I never did anything like that. Please go away and leave me alone. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Look at me, asswipe. Do I look like I am afraid?”
“No, no you don’t.” His voice was quiet, and tears rolled down his cheeks. His shirt was wringing wet.
“Now you’ve wasted enough of my time. Open your shirt and let me see your tits.”
“I’m a married man!” he cried quietly half to himself as he removed his tie and unbuttoned his white shirt.
His chest was smooth and almost hairless. Nicely shaped but not too muscular, like one of those high school swim team boys. He had fat pouty quarter-sized nipples. The kind I like to work on. I reached out and twisted his nipples. He stood there taking it, eyes downcast, chewing his lip, sobbing to himself.
“By the time I’m finished with you, these nipples are going to stand out two inches and look like fucking sow tits.”
“Finished with me?”
His eyes darted to meet mine. There was a stark terror in them.
“That’s right. This is the start of a beautiful friendship. We’re going to be spending lots of time together, playing games, but don’t worry, the games have very easy rules. I tell you what to do, and you do it. It’s that simple. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”
“I can’t…I mean…what about my wife?”
I was raising him up on tiptoe again, this time by the titties.
“If you want me to, I’ll talk to her. Tell her you’re going to be my fuck boy. I don’t mind. Maybe she can even watch. Maybe I’ll fuck her too.”
“Oh, my god.”
He grew weak in the knees and almost hung by his nipples. I had to slap him to bring him around. I quickly reached down and lifted his wallet from his rear pocket. I held it up and flipped it open, checking his name and address.
“Now, Todd, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go into the bathroom and wait for me. I want you to stand in front of one of the urinals with your pants and underpants down around your ankles. Don’t pull them up no matter who comes in until I come in and tell you to. If you fuck this up, I swear, I will go to your house and rape the fuck out of your wife. I will tear her a new cunt. And I am not kidding.”
He started to re-button his shirt. I slapped him hard again. His nose started to run. He whimpered in confusion.
“I didn’t tell you to re-button your fucking shirt. You go into the bathroom like that.”
“People will see me. I’ll lose my job.” His voice was hushed and meek now for fear that he would anger me.
“Awww, isn’t that too bad.”
“I can’t lose my job. Sally and I can barely make ends meet. She’s going to school and so am I part-time. I need—”
“I don’t need your fucking life story. Get your ass into that men’s room now. Pants and underpants around your ankles, standing in front of the urinal, two feet back from the urinal. Two fucking feet back!”
He shook his beautiful head slowly.
“Don’t do this to me. Please…please…don’t do this to me.”
“Does Sally have a tight pussy? I wonder how my nine inches will feel in her tight little cunt.”
I handed him his glasses, and head hanging, he walked toward the men’s room with his shirttails out of his trousers and his shirt front wide open. He made it unseen. I knew he would. I had checked the aisles pretty carefully, and except for the old bitch that had probably run to her car with a throbbing clit, there were not many people around, except for the seven-year-old boy in the comic book section. I walked up to the little boy who was a darling little fuck-package. I could almost imagine my dick sliding down his slender throat and making his neck bulge. My swollen dick was pushing out the front of my jeans.
“Hey, kid, the guy who just went into the bathroom dropped his wallet. I’ll give you a dollar if you take it to him.”
I didn’t see the scene in the bathroom, but I can imagine Todd’s humiliation, standing there with his dick out back far enough from the urinal to be seen, his pants puddled around his feet, his shirt wide open, so this little boy could see everything. This seven-year-old boy could see his tits and fuck-meat and ball sack. The kid came running out with a kind of freaked out look on his face. I had to laugh. The kid dropped the wallet and left the store. I picked up the billfold. I entered the bathroom to see Todd standing there, bright pink from embarrassment, his hands hiding his genitals.
“You fucking bastard,” he cried.
Brave boy, but I laughed and took no offense. I reached back and locked the bathroom door. Then I walked over to him and slid his shirt off his shoulders, leaving him pretty much bare-ass naked. I shoved him onto his knees.
“Get your face into that urinal,” I barked while lowering my own trousers.
He was making noises like he could not breathe, so I slammed him in the gut. He buried his face in the piss stinking urinal.
“Now lick. I wanna see and hear you licking that urinal clean.”
While he licked the urinal, gagging every few tongue swipes, not believing anyone could be this sick, I took a closer look at his ass. It was a beauty, all right. I massaged his ass cheeks and spread them wide apart. Perfectly muscled, hairless ass-cheeks, nice deep crack, and in between the tightest sweetest pink asshole you ever want to see.
He whined, “Please don’t do that. Please don’t fuck me.”
“You just keep licking piss. You’ll be fine. This will be over within no time.”
I put a little spit on my big dickhead and positioned it at his pussy-pucker.
“Nooo…please don’t do…nooo!” he moaned over and over like some Asian mantra.
I reached one hand around and began to finger his five-inch flaccid prick. I snapped it a couple of times just for fun and rolled his nuts in my hand, all the while pushing with my dickhead at his puckered hole.
“You’re going to like being fucked once you get used to it. I can tell. You’re going to need to be fucked several times a day. I know a kid that reminds me of you. He’s fifteen years old and a busboy at one of my favorite restaurants. He thought he was straight too, fucking girls all time. After a few months with me, he learned about his true nature. Now he can’t stand it if he doesn’t get a dick up his pussy every couple of hours. Kid needs to be fucked at least five times a day. It’s like a drug addiction. Hey, maybe that’s why it’s called an a-dick-tion. Anyway, all he thinks about is cock and getting fucked. You’re going to be like that, I can tell.”
I reached over and flushed the urinal on his head. At the same time, I forced my dickhead into his ass ring. He screamed and fell forward, his face smashing into the piss trough. I shoved my dick in to the balls. I held him up by the waist and banged his little body against my groin. He was making all sorts of inhuman noises. I noticed a piece of chewed gum lying in the pissy urinal.
“Eat that gum, you fuckwad,” I barked, slamming my prick deeper into his guts.
Who knows how many guys had pissed on that gum, how soaked with man and boy pee it was, and who had chewed it first. He scraped it off the trough and started to chew it, gagging and sobbing, gulping for air as I split his rectum open for the first time.
“Think how your wife would like my dick. Think how she would love to feel a real man cock in her instead of a peanut.”
I told you at the start that I was horny, so it didn’t take much time. Usually, I get a blowjob before I fuck so it can last longer, but this time it just didn’t happen that way. I shot a load up his ass while he choked out something about protection and disease and shit like that. I rested on his back until my cock subsided enough to withdraw. Then I grabbed him by the hair and yanked him around.
“See that? That’s shit and blood on my dick. The blood is to be expected the first few times, but I don’t like a shitty dick. From now on you better keep that hole of yours spotless for me. You buy a douche bag and douche three or four times a day. I don’t want to see a single streak of shit on my dick the next time I fuck you.”
He was hysterical. His glasses were streaked with water and piss. His nose was running something fierce. His eyes were red.
“There…there isn’t going to be a next time, I…I—”
“Shut the fuck up, you pathetic piece of shit. There will be a next time, and the next time will be tomorrow night. Same time, same station. But tomorrow night you will wear the tightest pair of jeans you can buy. If I can’t see every wrinkle on your dick, you will be truly sorry and no underwear, no underwear ever, unless I say differently. And a tee shirt, white, thin, and tight, I wanna see the color of your nipples through the material. And don’t give me any work dress code shit, ‘cause I see plenty of clerks in jeans here.”
“What…what will I tell my wife? I never dress like that.”
“What the fuck do I care. Tell her it’s the new you. Tell her you are meeting your fuck date. Now your ass is going to hurt a lot tonight and tomorrow. But it’s fine. The first time you shit, cum and blood will come out, but that will soon stop. You’re going to make a fine pussy. You can take some pride in that. Just trust me. I know what I’m doing. Oh, and no more fucking your wife until I give you permission. Sorry about that, but it will all be for the best in the end, you’ll see.
“Now, tomorrow night, you’ll present to me a complete biography of your life. I want to know about your family, brothers or sisters, school, everything. I want to know how many bitches you fucked and when and how many times. I wanna know how many blowjobs you’ve had, and it had better be detailed. I wanna know the names and ages of the cunts. I wanna know who your friends are and all about your wife and her family. It’ll make our games more interesting, I promise you.”
“Please, may I go to the toilet? It’s running out of my ass.”
“Sure, after you lick my dick clean. You got it dirty, you lick it clean.”
“I’ve never had a…I can’t…I’ll get sick…I’ll puke…It’s got shit on it.”
“It’s your shit, not mine. You think I want it.”
His cute face screwed up something awful.
“Could…could I wash it off? I could wash it.”
“I want you to lick it with your tongue. I want you to taste your nasty shit so that from now on you keep your pussy clean. And I want you to taste the wonderful taste of my big fat prick.”
“I don’t think I can, sir. I’m trying, honest to God, but I don’t think I can.”
“Either you lick the shit off my dick in ten seconds, or I will take off my pants, sit on your face, and take a shit down your throat.”
He licked my dick. Oh, he gagged some, but he kept his puke down. I knew he was a natural.
“Don’t forget to lick my balls too. There’s some sperm on them.”
When he finished, he lay crumpled on the floor in a heap.
“How does it feel to be a faggot? You’ve always been one, you know. You just didn’t realize it, but I’m going to help you realize your full faggot potential. Tomorrow night I’m going to teach you how to suck cock properly. Oh, and tell wifey you will be home late tomorrow, inventory or something. You’re one pretty little hunk of fuck flesh. I’m going to have fun corrupting you. Now, you better get back to work before you really do lose your job. See you tomorrow at seven.”
When I unlocked and opened the bathroom door, two teenage punks were waiting there to piss. Cute fucking little assholes too. They started to mouth off, but took one look in my eyes and thought better of it. Todd made it to the stall before they saw him.