Cock-Sucker - Testimony Ch. 04

Stuart grins across at Wolfie. "Thanks, that was a great birthday gift, cheers."

I smile to myself, and resume sweeping.

On another occasion, I was 'summoned' to meet Wolfie in the dorm, and when I get there I was a little wary to discover he was not alone. There were three of them. Would I be expected to 'do' them all? Dread was there, and the one sitting in the middle is Adrian - 'big Ade', an overweight and 'slow' guy I'd seen around, but never spoken to. Wolfie brusquely instructs me to undress, and as I do so I begin to piece together what's going on. They'd been talking to Ade, part-curious, part-teasing him, and under their jibing prying interrogation he'd finally admitted that he'd never had any kind of sex. Not with anyone. And partly for his own amusement, and entertainment, and partly because he feels sorry for him, Wolfie took the responsibility upon himself to remedy that situation.

Ade was sweating. A bead of perspiration winding its way down his forehead. But his eyes light up, visibly widening and brightening with shame-faced delight as my hard-on swings loose, into view. Soon I was naked, and standing facing them with my hands by my sides.

Wolfie encourages the obviously embarrassed Ade. "Go on, touch him up."

Adrian was uneasy, awkward. "I don't think I should, it wouldn't be right" he protests weakly.

"It's alright Ade, it's my gift to you" he urges.

At length, very quickly and nervously he reaches out and squeezes my erection once with his clammy-warm chubby fingers, giggling under his breath. He levers it down, then titters like some big naughty child as it springs back up again when he releases it.

"Good, that wasn't so difficult was it? Do it some more, play around with it."

I stand still as he reaches out again, this time his sweaty hand lingers a little longer, encircling and rubbing it up and down, gripping my balls a little too hard for comfort. I wince. He was grinning a slow stupidly dull-witted grin. He was gripping me tight, as though now he's plucked up courage to hold it, he's determined he's not going to let go. The more I ease back, the tighter he squeezes so his nails are leaving sharp indentations on the shaft, with the head growing angry purple-red in his fist. I grit my teeth. But by now Wolfie is getting bored with the game and decides it's time to take it further.

"Now comes the best part Ade, you're going to get your cock sucked."

Ade instantly releases me and starts to his feet. "No, it's alright, thank you Wolfie, I've changed my mind, I want to go please."

They grab hold of his arms persuasively, restraining him, and playfully ease him back onto the bed, nodding purposefully to me. I know what I have to do, and begin unfastening his belt and tugging his fly down.

Wolfie adopts a mock-stern voice like some retired colonel. "What you need my boy, is a damn good cock-sucking, and I intend to make sure you get it."

Ade was laughing and struggling half-heartedly, complaining excuses as they hold him on his back, while they assist me to haul his pants down and off.

"No, wait, please, you're tickling, I've changed my mind" between nervous fidgety giggles, as though he's facing some hazardous medical procedure.

At last, pulling his shirt aside, I'm able to get in at it. Beneath his wobbling swollen gut is a ridiculously stubby little cock, a rosebud completely hooded in a tight foreskin, and almost hairless. His balls are practically non-existent. You could snap it off and hang it on a girl's charm bracelet. No wonder he's wretchedly agitated at having it exposed to our gaze, no wonder he doesn't want anyone to see it.

He's wriggling and laughing, which - combined with the size of his heaving stomach, makes it difficult for me to reach it. How can I suck that? I can scarcely find it! It'll be like sucking on a teat. But I crouch down, work my head in, hold it between thumb and forefinger, and manage to get all of it into my mouth. He's flexing and writhing his body, his giggling carrying a hysterical edge as I attempt to do what I have to do. His quivering gut-skin is strangely coarse and unpleasantly sweat-moist.

Even though it's erect the pathetically tiny strut of worm-penis isn't easy to work on and constantly seems about to slip free out of my mouth, but I do my best, and he doesn't last very long anyway, within moments of me sucking he's shouting out as though in pain, breathing in big wrenching gulps as though suffocating, his hips jerking spasmically, and he starts cumming. A twitch, a tremble, and uncontrollably, despite my best efforts, his micro-dick slithers free from my mouth just as a starburst of slight white uprush spurts down my chin, thin and tasteless, a gloopy teaspoonful, no more.

Unsure what to do I give it a few more quick little sucks. When I raise my head Wolfie and Dread are laughing, as though the sight I present is the funniest thing they've ever seen, and Ade just lies there exhaling great sobs of breath. I wait, unsure what to do as Ade sits up, hurriedly self-consciously pulling his pants back on.

Wolfie stands there with his arms folded. "Are you grateful for the gift we've given you? Say thank you Ade."

The miserable fat kid looks up petulantly. "Thank you Wolfie."

Hang on a minute - it's me with his spunk on my face, and he's thanking Wolfie! But of course, in a sense, he's right, we're both his victims. At that moment, I despise Wolfie more than at any other time. But it's over already. They've tired of the game. I'm the only one naked, cock still visibly erect and screaming for attention.

"For fuck's sake wipe your face, and get some clothes on, you look ridiculous stood there with that thing sticking out like that" sneers Wolfie.

I do so, a little confused. The whole incident has lasted barely minutes, I'm still aroused. In fact it's necessary for me to go directly to the nearest toilets and pull myself off to relieve the ache of unrealised anticipations. Wanking with furious desperation.

My first thought had been of Ian. We had joked about producing sex-vouchers to share between the two of us. IOU's for sex-acts to be performed there-and-then, on production of the voucher. First there would be 'do' or 'be-done-to' vouchers. Then a 'Quickie Suck-&-Swallow' voucher. A more leisurely blow-job voucher. A sixty-nine option. And a wild card for whatever the voucher-holder decides he wants on the spur of the moment. We hadn't actually gone ahead with the idea. What if the vouchers found their way into other hands? What if we were presented with a situation in which a stranger produces a voucher expecting it to be honoured? Would we be obliged to do as the voucher specifies? So it never went beyond the point of giggling speculation. But if I'd had one, I'd have used it now, unfortunately Ian is nowhere to be found. On a course maybe, or a work-detail.

So I was reduced to doing it myself. The indentation-marks of Ade's stubby fingernails still red on my shaft, the sensation of his tight grip still tingling there, as I begin pulsing my ejaculation as roaring visions of cock and jism storm my head. As I squeeze out the last ooze, dripping it onto the dirty porcelain and flushing it away, I was consumed by dismal wonderings about how low I had sunk. What was this debased creature I've become? Like Ian said - I've become an 'orgasm addict', hooked on endorphins, this is a conditioned response.

My chin still felt sticky, even though I'd wiped it. I never get to speak to Adrian properly, although once or twice when we pass by in the corridor he smiles uncertainly at me, in a way I can't quite decipher. Not quite a shy apology, not even a secret acknowledgement of guilty pleasure at our fleeting and unsatisfactory intimacy, more as though he doesn't really understand what had happened, or how to deal with it. I actually felt more sympathy for him than I do for myself.

I wonder if he's ever had a day of fun in his entire miserable life, and if squeezing my balls a little too hard for comfort and having me clumsily suck him off is the closest he'd ever got to it, if so, then I don't exactly begrudge him it. If it was really his first sexual experience, and I'm sure it was, maybe I could have, perhaps even should have made it better for him, if circumstances had been different. Perhaps I should have made an attempt to befriend him, and make up for the messiness of that encounter in some other way?

Not that I was allowed time for reflection, for Wolfie was about to introduce me to anal, which I was less than enthusiastic about. Although I admit, following Ian's colourful admissions, and the graphically explicit descriptions in 'The Random Rod' and 'Horatio Cockblower', I was becoming curious to know what it was like. Intrigued even. We'd talked about it.

"It's not natural" I'd argued. "Bottoms are not designed for sex, they're for... y'know, turds come out there. It's dirty."

"You say dirty because you've been brought up to think its dirty" argues Ian. "But to say that is logically inconsistent. Because you piss from your cock doesn't mean you can't also use that for sex. It's an evolutionary joke to have the source of life, and the piss-hole so close. You just have to disassociate the two functions in your mind. The body has certain bits that feel good, dirty only comes into it if you want it dirty..."

Adrian had happened on Wednesday, the next afternoon I was again 'summoned' to the same dorm by Dread. It was raining and overcast. I anticipate giving Wolfie a blow-job, nothing more, but he's got Vaseline - more for his own convenience than mine, and other intentions. Dread stands guard at the door, sneaking a peak every now and then, as I undress and sit naked on the bed patiently waiting to be buggered, shivering slightly in the chill, watching him grease up. Then I turn, crouch on all fours head-down face cradled in my hands, arse raised, legs splayed presenting myself for him. Despite everything I've been through I'd never felt as exposed as I do now.

Determined not to wince or cry out, biting my lip as I feel his probing fingers on me, locating the route in, but once the fumbling and wriggling is done, he lodges his burning spear at the puckered opening and with an almost effortless nudge forces the swollen knob-end inside, the tip stretches its way through the tight sphincter, like he's pushing a billiard-ball through an impossibly narrow passage. Once the head has entered, my body relaxes, accepts the inevitable, and I feel my inner tissues stretching as a little more of it slithers in more smoothly. My back undulates snake-like, and I take a sharp intake of breath as the strange sensation storms at me. He pauses half-engulfed, more for his benefit than mine, wallowing in the tight feeling clasping him. Then shoves it all the way. A silk torpedo targeting my innermost fundament, and primed for a messy detonation.

I stifle a grunt, and begin to wonder what it was I'd been so scared about. It's a strange, tight feeling, weird, but fine. No taste, no gagging, no face-to-face contact, it was almost anonymous. Perhaps that's precisely why I prefer to give oral? Looking down I can see what a more coy and evasive writer might call my own rampant member staring pointedly back at me, directly towards my face, its usual dusky-rose hue reddening with excitement, a drop of pre-cum oozing from the piss-slit. It's obviously enjoying what's being done to me. Beyond that I can see Wolfie's own balls hanging freely behind mine. It looks so bizarre. I feel beads of sweat trickling down my back. I brace myself, he slides back about half-way out, holds, then eases in as far as he can go.

For the first and only time he says "You alright?"

I feel weak, trembling, my heart-rate racing. I gasp out "Don't stop, don't stop."

The words come before the thought. I don't know where they come from. Not logic or reason, some gut-deep primal place in my psyche. He begins to pump back and forth, his body slapping up into me audibly. I'm gasping hard like a skewered animal, as though each deep stroke is ramming the air up out of me. I catch a glimpse of leering Dread watching wide-eyed from the door, but the more he fucks me, the more I get turned on. I count each thrust that makes my own genitals jerk, flip and bounce, until I lose count.

I close my eyes as it goes on, his testicles swaying and slapping up against my tender scrotum as our bodies come together at the peak of maximum penetration. It was exciting, how could such an intimate invasion be anything else? And I'm doing my best to stifle the rhythmic grunts as it forces my breath up into my throat. Panting the way only teenage hormonal lust pants, sweat in my eyes. Unconsciously I'm cupping my thighs back the better to receive him. Until the wonderful soft pulsing begins, fireworks detonating in the deepest recesses of my gut, and he's gushing hot fluid - or to be more accurate, we're both coming.

Some say taking it up the ass feminises you, that it's a demeaning way of unmanning and emasculating you, that planting his seed deep in the convulsions of your intestines is an act of claiming you as property. Well, maybe all that's true. But I'm in no state for thinking. After some time he withdraws so sharply that pulling out leaving me with the disturbing sensation that I'm passing a turd, with the petroleum-jelly tang of hot churned Vaseline. He glances down at the ejaculate-streams on my gut and pubic hair as I unsteadily try getting to my feet.

"You messy sod" he jeers. "Don't you have any self-control?"

He's demonstratively wiping himself clean on my discarded y-fronts. I smile weakly, getting my breath back, after what he's just subjected me to - it's a joke, right? For the rest of the day I can feel the lingering tingle in my ass, a smug secret reminder of the new intimacy I've been initiated into. I'm afraid my bum will never be the same again, that it'll never return to its pre-fucked condition. I know Dread was watching, that he shares the secret, and that his curiosity may well have been piqued. He might try it on with me. I bleakly accept that if he does, then it will happen. And he would fuck me too. But he must be too scared of arousing Wolfie's ire. The situation never arises.

I've always been wary when someone uses 'bastard' as a swear-word. After all, that's what I am. After this, when I hear anyone using 'bugger' as a swear-word, it won't be quite the same again. Because I'm that too. He'd enjoyed it enough to repeat the experience at intervals, alternating mouth and anus as the mood takes him. And bleakly I accept anal as just another condition of my protection.

Perhaps he saw it as a game, perhaps it amuses him to see just how far he can push my limits? Perhaps it was his intention to deliberately shove me to the point at which I'd recoil, refuse, resist? If so, I never give him that satisfaction. Some might think that what I was subjected to during those months was more extreme than what would have happened had I not been 'bonded', and just took my chances. I never saw it that way. Never. My only imperative was that it was absolutely necessary to have, and keep, a protector. And I was terrified of losing that protection. I'd been with Wolfie a while now. Would he tire of me?

Once, jokingly, Ian told me he'd seen Wolfie talking secretively to a younger guy. They were whispering together. What could they have been talking about? Were they setting up some kind of meeting for furtive sex? Ian was playful, he was teasing me, but I was worried. Wolfie is a strong guy. People respect him. As a protector, he's invaluable. The younger guy might have designs on him. What can I do? Absurdly, I was jealous. I can't afford to lose him. Come to think of it, he's not called for me during daylight hours for a straight blow-job for some time... how long? Days?... even longer, several days. Perhaps he's tiring of me? Maybe the novelty of having me do it to him is wearing off? What if he's got someone else sucking it for him? This sneaky new kid in town...? The thing is, even though he might now need daytime sex infrequently, my mouth needs cock in it, frequently.

Despite Ian's protestations I move away and begin to search the building, walking the halls and passages looking for Wolfie, desperate to reassure myself of my status. Eventually I locate him in the corridor by the gym. He's alone. I seldom approach him, that isn't our way. He demands me, or not at all. Instead I just hang around, glancing shyly across at him. Eventually he notices me and comes across.

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want, Wolfie."

In my head I've rehearsed what I was going to say. About how yes, I know I'm going to be sucking you off tonight. I know and accept that. But tonight seems such a long way away. And the more I think about it, the more I can't wait. I've got a hard-on just thinking about doing it. I want to suck it now, if that's alright, Wolfie? Please. I want to suck your cock now. I want to feel its thickness pulsing in my mouth. I want to taste the spunk spurting like liquid sin into my greedy mouth. I want to say all that. But instead my throat is dry. I'm struck dumb.

"Me? No, how the hell am I supposed to know what you want?" he teases dismissively.

I gulp self-consciously, but I have to go through with it, to set my mind at rest. "I want to, y'know, do the thing we do."

He smirks, as though realising what I mean but intent on playing me along. "No, tell me. If you wanna suck me off you got to ask me properly."

"Yes, I want to, y'know... I want to suck you, to suck your cock, please. I want to do it now, please."

He laughs cruelly. "You dirty slut."

He turns and goes into the gym. I follow him. It was empty. I pace behind him into the silence of the changing room.

"You really want to do this now, you want to suck me off?"

"Yes Wolfie, please."

He drops his pants casually, sits down on the bench and splays his legs, granting me access to it. Eagerly I push my own pants down, to prove to him that I'm already hard. This is my chance to show him just how much better I can be than any new kid. I've got to win him all over again. To show him just how good I can do it. I crouch down. Seeing it in the half-light of the dorm is not like seeing it in full naked daylight. Its raw beautiful ugliness still takes my breath away. It's still scary, even though it's sundered my mouth so many times. I feel humbled and inadequate all over again confronted by its bestial arrogant power.

"Thanks Wolfie."

Licking his low-hung balls, first one then slurping at the other, then tracing the long path all the way up the veiny shaft of his cock to the fat flared crown. I look up at him, infatuated by it, then devour him inch by delicious inch. I give him the best blow-job I'm capable of giving, working hard, wanking myself slowly and luxuriously as I do so. I use little tongue-lapping caressing motions, lips and the slightest teeth pressure, then plunging it deep into my throat, all the sexy tricks I've learned from Ian, and practised on Dean.

Licking my way up around the ridge of his fat glans, tracing the groove that oozes beads of pre-cum, then sinking it all the way into my windpipe so far I can scarce breathe. But holding it there as long as I dare. Then sucking it so hard it must be taking his breath away. When it twitches it jars my jaw, a muscular spasm so powerful it raises my head. It's intoxicating, the blood-rush roar in my ears surging.

Half-way through I hear footfall behind us. I'm scared, but more scared of breaking off. So I just concentrate all the harder.

"Hi Wolfie, you alright?" I hear the voice, but can't see the speaker. All I see is Wolfie's undulating gut.

"Sure, never better."

There's a pause. "Is this the young cock-sucker you were telling me about? Is he any good?"