textfiles/sex/EROTICA/A/assume.txt

                    ASSUME THE POSITION
            (A Slice of the Author's Life Story)
                       by Ron Dalanor

     For me, the first few months, after discovering the 
sheer pleasure of man-sex, were filled with a myriad of 
experiences.  If its plumbing was on the outside, I wanted 
to fuck it.  When the novelty wore off, however, I figured 
out what I did and did not desire.  What was it about men 
that made my desire for them stronger than my desire for 
women?  Duh?  It wasn't a difficult question to answer.  The 
thrill of conquest over someone masculine was greater than 
the joy of conquest over someone feminine.  Don't get me 
wrong; I had lots of sweet, romantic sexual encounters with 
women.  But, hot, sweaty, grubby, rough, and down and dirty 
sex with men would set the rockets off in every part of my 
body.
     Unfortunately, all men are males, but not all males are 
men.  I didn't want something pretty to fuck; I wanted 
something innately masculine.  The "fluff and fold" guys 
just didn't do anything for me.  These guys spent far too 
much time working to achieve "the look" to have it ruined by 
something as mundane as raw passion.  They are the Xerox 
guys; they dress alike, wear their hair alike, walk alike, 
and talk alike.  If you dated enough of them, you thought 
you were trapped in reruns of the Patty Duke Show.  Give me 
a guy who would rather have you fuck him rough, hard and 
long than look at him any day.  Sandy was that kind of guy, 
but it took me a while to figure how great he was.
     It was late summer 1977, when Gene, a married guy that 
a screwed on a regular basis, first broached the subject of 
introducing Sandy to me.  Gene, who was an assistant 
prosecutor in Knoxville, liked to think of himself as kinky.  
In truth, Gene was to kinky sex what Yoko Ono was to music.  
Gene had too many restrictions to make a real rough sex 
session pleasurable; he was always concerned that his wife 
would detect something.  Thus, my sexual encounters with 
Gene usually just involved my fucking the piss out of him.
     As Gene felt my interest in him wane, he tried to do 
things that would make me feel obligated to him and keep him 
around.  Gene admitted that he wasn't able to fully satisfy 
Sandy and that their sex consisted of his blowing the guy.  
My reaction to the idea of being introduced to this man was 
cool which forced Gene to pull out his trump card.
     "He's a state trooper, and he likes it really rough!" 
Gene said hoping for a positive reaction.
     After gathering some more details about this possible 
trainee, I told Gene to arrange a nonsexual meeting in his 
office.  Since Sandy had to testify in court in an accident 
case, it worked out that the meeting was to occur in a 
couple of weeks from that night.  It happened that Sandy 
lived in Crossville which was west of Rockwood where I 
lived; he would be a much closer trick than Gene who lived 
forty-five minutes east of my location.
      When Sandy walked in and removed his "Smoky the Bear" 
hat, I began to carefully check him out.  He seemed pretty 
average, and nothing in his demeanor lead me to expect 
anything  spectacular from him.  He was, I guessed, a tad 
over six feet tall and solidly built.  Though clean shaven, 
he seemed to have a heavy beard as evidenced by the deep 
beardline shadow.  Sandy's face was the kind better 
attributed to a character actor than to the leading man.  
His short and neatly trimmed hair was light brown with just 
the slightest subtle red haze woven into the color.  The 
prolific hair that covered his arms was a brassier sun 
stained red-gold.  His uniform shirt seemed to stretch 
across a pair of nice pecs, and his trousers were anything 
but baggy in the butt.  His ass sat snugly in them and could 
be described, in butt evolutionary terms, as the generation 
just before the bubble butt.  It was enough to hold your 
interest, but it wasn't enough to drive you insane from just 
looking.  Sandy's eyes were the feature that held my 
attention.  They were hazel, but the flecks of green on the 
brown were emerald and not a dull green.  
     The eyes were enough to put me in Sandy's corner and a 
few of his other tight places.  Gene left us alone to talk 
for a while.  The banter between us was subtle, hot and 
effective.  The guy was real and genuine, and his desire to 
be dominated as well as used and abused for another's 
pleasure was deep-seeded.  We agreed to meet for a training 
session a few days later.
     "Wear the uniform!" I said as I headed for the door. 
     "Yes, Sir!" Sandy replied with controlled enthusiasm in 
his voice.
     In the time before Sandy's first session, I gave great 
thought as to how I would proceed with him.  Always before, 
I had been too tentative with my boys, but now experience as 
well as desire had every nerve synapse in my brain firing in 
methodical frenzy.  When I was done with him, he would be 
able to desire no other without memories of me flooding into 
his mind.  Before he arrived, I laid out everything I needed 
in easily accessible positions in all of the rooms I planned 
to use.  I even set the stereo so that the base was high and 
would send the sounds of Wagner pulsing unobtrusively 
through the walls covering any screams that I might produce 
from my boy.
     When I opened the door, Sandy stood their in uniform 
with boots highly polished.  He stood just a little too 
confident for my tastes, and that had to be dealt with right 
away.  As he stepped in, I told him to place the hat and gun 
on the nearby table.  I kept very little distance between 
us; proximity is quite an intimidating factor.  It became 
obvious that anticipation had given him a good case of 
nerves as he fumbled a bit to remove the gun from its 
holster.  With the gun and hat positioned safely, he turned 
back to face me.  I grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved 
him into the door on which the dorsal portion of his body 
made a profound thud.
     "Not fast enough, faggot!  You'll have to obey orders 
much quicker, do much better!"  I yelled directly into his 
face pressing the advantage of my surprise attack on his 
person.
     The look of shock was obvious.  Like most guys who are 
taller, his expectation was that he might have to feign 
physical submission a bit to allow completion his domination 
fantasy; he could not have been more inaccurate.  My 
strength plus my slightly lower center of gravity had always 
made me more than able to erase natural physical resistance 
and cope with automatic responses.
     "Yes, Sir." Sandy's voice trembled after regaining the 
air my shove had removed.
     His air of confidence was dissipating rapidly as 
evidenced by his body's assumption of a nonverbal demeanor 
more in line with his submissive status.  I did not move or 
talk; I simply held him in place and starred into his face.  
The close distance and silence began the erosion of his 
mental resistance.  He couldn't take it very long before he 
had to break the silence.
     "I'm sorry, Sir!  I want to please you, Sir!  Teach me 
how, Sir.  Please, Sir!" Sandy uttered most submissively and 
with genuine sincerity.
     The right behavior would always be rewarded.  I stepped 
back giving him some room, and I could see some of the 
tension in his body subside.  Before too much time could 
elapse, I ordered him to his knees.  He dropped without 
hesitation.  I was pleased; he understood that, unlike the 
few experiences he had told me about in Gene's office, this 
was not going to be another Ted Mack's Original S&M Amateur 
Hour.  I stepped in close once again.  His gaze seemed 
hopefully fixated at my crotch.  I grabbed his jaw in my 
right hand and snatched it upward forcing him back on his 
haunches.
     "You're a fuckin' hopeless piece of shit, son.  You 
will probably never live up to my standards.  But, I am 
gonna turn you into something so that the next poor son of a 
bitch who winds up with you will have a half decent boy to 
work with!"
     "Thank you, Sir!"
     Sweat had beaded upon his brow and soaked the chest and 
armpits of his shirt, but he was enjoying the hell out of 
this.  I could tell by the rod he was throwing in his pants. 
I walked away leaving him there to ponder what was to come.  
I stepped into the kitchen, poured myself a cup of coffee, 
and lit a cigarette before I returned.  I pulled a chair 
from the table where his gun and hat rested and sat down. 
     Sandy remained on his knees with his head bowed.  I 
needed the coffee and the cigarette before I moved him to 
the next level.   The next step was a tenuous one for me 
because it fed one of my fantasies.  I had to make sure I 
controlled the fantasy rather than letting it control me.
     I stood up, dropped my shorts, and stepped out of them.  
Now, only the black tank and the leather studded jock 
remained.  I adjusted my hard dick so that only the big head 
of it showed at the waist band of the jock.
     "Okay, queer bait!  It's time for you to suck some 
cock!"
     Sandy looked up slightly puzzled at first, but quickly 
crawled over to me.  I pulled him to his knees by his hair 
and ordered him to lick every stud on my jock.  His loving 
compliance was admirable, but not enough to keep me from 
pushing his head into the studs and grinding them into his 
face.  I kicked away my sandals and pressed his face to my 
feet.  I made him lick every inch of both feet as well as 
take each toe into his mouth and wash each with his tongue.
     I pulled my cock through the crotch slit in the jock, 
and I grabbed Sandy's hair holding him just out of reach of 
my fuck pistol and forcing him to look at me.
     "Want some of this dick, cocksucker?" I taunted.
     "Yes, Sir!" he replied.
     "How much do you want it?" I continued to tease.
     "I need it real bad, Sir!"
     " You NEED my dick, boy?"
     "Yes, Sir.  I need your dick real bad!"
     "Beg for it!" I demanded.
     " Please, Sir!  I need your cock!  I'll suck it real 
good, Sir!  Let me love it, Sir!"
     "Lick it, boy!  Lick my fuckin' dick!"
     It was just what I wanted; it was one of my fantasies.  
I had a real state trooper on his knees, begging for my dick 
and then licking it with great devotion.  His tongue 
caressed the swollen head of my cock; he covered every area 
between the tip and the foreskin making sure he lapped up 
any juice that had run out the piss slit.  He continued to 
tongue fondle every inch from the tip to the base.  His 
tongue worship of my dick was sending me into mental frenzy 
in an attempt to maintain control over my own joy.
     "Ok, boy, suck your Master's dick!  Take it all and 
suck it all the way down!"
     He took my dick into his mouth ever so gently as if it 
were a fragile eggshell holding a treasure within.  Sandy 
used his lips to pulled further down the shaft dragging my  
rod across his ever embracing tongue.  Every trip he made up 
and down my dick was sending every nerve in my body into a 
spastic chaos.  Moving slowly as not to dislodge myself from 
his mouth, I sat down.  I grabbed the back of his head and 
pressed him all the way down on my dick.  I grabbed his ears 
and began moving him up and down at just the rate and depth 
that I wanted.  Realizing that I was getting complacent, I 
forced my cock down his throat till he choked.  His hands 
moved to halt the intrusion, but midway they stopped and 
simply flailed in midair as Sandy realized he could not 
touch unless given permission.  He took the punishment and 
gagged and slobbered as I wished to see him do.  Nothing 
breaks a cocksucker's spirit faster than to be forced to 
handle a pole in a manner not of his own choosing, 
especially when that way generates great physical 
discomfort.  I pushed Sandy away.  While he used the time to 
mentally and physically regroup, I took a last drag on my 
cigarette and another sip of coffee.
     "On your back, asswipe!"
     Sandy obeyed.  I removed the jock and knelt over his 
head.  I lowered my throbbing rod into his mouth all the way 
to the back of his throat.  I then began to fuck his face.  
Little by little, I picked up the pace and forced my dick 
deep into his throat.  Tears welled up in his eyes and 
slipped down the side of his face.  I saw that the small wet 
spot in his pants had now become the size of a half dollar.  
After one last deep thrust, I pulled out and eased my 
position up a bit and ordered him to lick my balls.
     His ability to follow commands was excellent.  His 
tongue lick and flicked across my nuts making every attempt 
to please.  Most guys would have screwed up here by sucking 
at the nutsac.  I hate having some clown attempt to find the 
right suction on my nuts to produce pleasure; I much prefer 
having them licked till they are dripping wet.  I eased 
forward once again placing my ass less than an inch from his 
face.
     "Eat my shit hole!  Get that tongue up in their and 
clean it out good!"  I barked.
     Sandy's tongue swabbed all around flicking at the ridge 
of flesh between my balls and hole.  I worked to muffle my 
own pleasure groan.  His tongue probed inside, and I lowered 
myself onto it.  I ground my ass down on his tongue purely 
for my own pleasure and I watched my dick ooze its happy 
drip response.  I'm the kind of guy who allows nothing into 
his ass except a good, hot tongue, and this one intuitively 
knew how to work the portal for maximum impact.  Again, I 
had to remind myself not to get lost in my own pleasure 
until I got Sandy to the point of no return.
     Though my legs were weak from the passionate tongue 
lapping I was receiving, I managed to pull myself up.  Sandy 
was commanded to his feet and to strip himself as well.  He 
hurriedly disengaged himself from all the clothing, but not 
once did he even glance in my direction as he did so.
     Phase one was done; it was time to move him to phase 
two.  Sandy stood before me naked for the first time.  His 
face glowed crimson from the embarrassment; his cock bobbed 
from within its red bush and then began a slow dissent.  I 
liked what I saw.  His body was fleshy and firm, not so 
sculpted that you couldn't get a handful.  Sandy was 
moderately hairy all over, but his freckled frame was not 
completely covered.  I walked around and inspected my 
property.  His meaty pink tits were flanked by wisps of 
reddish hair, and his copper colored butt hair seemed to be 
illuminating the runway to his hole.  His unassuming 
masculinity, the uniform, and his red hair had sent the 
gears of my libido cranking.
     I directed him down the hallway to the dimly lit room 
on the right.  It served as my workout room and den.  In the 
center of the room, was my weight bench sans weights.  On 
either side of the bench, I had placed a couple of small 
tables, and each was covered with some of the tools of my 
trade.
     Sandy was ordered to lie on the weight bench with his 
head extending through and past the solid metal uprights. I 
stood behind his head and began to laugh at him.  I laughed 
for no reason other than to generate a new unknown to him.  
He knew he could not speak until spoken to, and inquiries as 
to motivations were out of the question.  Sandy could only 
ponder about the laughter.  That was exactly my purpose; 
trainees have to be kept off balance.  The anticipation as 
to what is to come is the catalyst to much of their 
pleasure.
     "Pussy boy, show me what a good cocksucker you are!  
Suck my dick nice and slow!" I demanded as I moved it above 
his face.
     Sandy was on my pole in a flash, adroitly raising his 
head and shoulders to devour my cock tenderly and greedily.  
While Sandy made himself the crown prince of the wiener 
washers, I had other things in mind.  I grabbed braided 
leather cords from the table; each of these cords had a 
noose end for securing the appropriate appendage and a 
tailed end which allowed me to secure the restraint to 
whatever object I chose.  I proceeded to subdue his wrists 
in the noose and then secure the restraints by tying each to 
the uprights just beneath the y-prongs which normally held 
the weights.    Sandy did not resist; he seemed too 
engrossed in swallowing my dick. I wasn't sure exactly what 
had done it, sucking dick or being tied up, but Sandy's rod 
was fully erect again.  Quickly, I stepped from the top of 
the weight bench to the side and dropped the noosed leather 
cords, also braided, over his feet.  I pulled each noose 
tight to his ankle, and, then, I yanked his legs into the 
air.  Each was tied to the back branch of the y-prong after 
an elaborate looping and relooping around the uprights, the 
y-prongs, and the already secured cords.  Sandy was ordered 
to try and free himself, and, after an earnest struggle, he 
could not.  I was pleased.  Single leather cords had broken 
before, but braiding them had solved that problem.
     Sandy was helpless and vulnerable in that position, and 
it showed on his face.  His legs pointed upward in a v-shape 
exposing his ass to me.  Those muscled, hairy buttocks were 
to be the next focus.
     "You got a nice tight pussy for me to play with, boy?" 
I queried.
     "Yes, Sir."
     "How many times has that cunt of yours been fucked?"
     "Three, Sir."
     I leaned over and attempted to shove my index finger 
into his hole.  It was tight; my finger did not get very far 
at all.  And, for the fucking I planned for that ass, it 
needed to be considerably looser.  I got a container of hot 
lube and sat on the end of the weight bench.  It was the 
kind of non-chemical lube that seemed to warm and slightly 
burn as it made contact with flesh.  I stuck my finger into 
the jar to coat it with the stuff.  I slapped Sandy's ass 
hard just as I jammed my finger into his fuck hole.  His ass 
reddened, and he struggled to hold back the scream.  A low 
whine escaped.  As I continued to work my finger in and out, 
that whine became a moan.  I rubbed a nice thin coating of 
the lube all over his ass crack and his balls.  As he 
flinched and struggled, I laughed and stood.
     "What's the matter, faggot?  Is that pussy of yours 
itching for some dick?" I chortled. 
     "Please, Sir!" he begged.
     Again, with his mind otherwise engaged by the hot 
sensations in his ass and balls, it was time to change the 
direction and intensity of things.  I grabbed a strap from 
the table.  The sound of it as it struck his ass was 
ferocious.  I watched Sandy struggle and try to handle the 
pain without crying out.  I continued beating his ass and 
was careful to strike the fleshiest part where the nerve 
endings were surface level and no real damage would be 
done.
     "Please, Sir!  I'm sorry, Sir!  I'll do better, Sir!" 
he sobbed loudly.
     I seated myself again facing his ass.  This time I 
worked my finger in with little resistance; it was followed 
by a second and a third finger.
     "Good boy!" I said coldly.
     "Thank you, Sir!" Sandy submissively replied.
     We were almost ready to move on to the next level, but 
there were a couple of other things that had to be done.  I 
inserted a butt plug into him, and strapped a cockring 
around his cock and balls.  It was a studded cockring, but I 
had pried up the prongs that held the studs in place just 
enough so that the wearer felt metal biting into his flesh.  
I also fastened a dog collar around his neck.  
     After untying him but leaving the noosed leather cords 
on his wrists and ankles, I used the dog collar to 
unceremoniously jerk him to his feet and drag him across the 
hall to my bedroom.  I kept this room dark as well with only 
a burning candle too provide illumination.  I also had laid 
out the necessary equipment on the nightstand.  I shoved him 
to his knees with his torso forced onto the bed.  I sat on 
his buttocks and blindfolded him.  I pulled the ball-gag 
from the nightstand and ordered him to open his mouth.  As 
soon as he did I shoved the ball portion in and tied the 
straps that ran through it around his neck securing them to 
the dog collar he wore.
     Knowing that I would have to work quickly, I tied his 
arms and legs to the four posts of the bed leaving him face 
up.  Unable to move, to see or to speak, the tension rapidly 
built up inside Sandy.  I could see the muscles of his body 
tense up in near panic.  Again, I laughed loudly.  Before 
the laughter subsided, I grabbed his cock and twisted it 
hard.  Sandy tried to scream, but the ball-gag only 
distorted the sound into a mangled vibration.  I next took 
elastic cord and tied off his balls as tightly as I knew he 
could stand.  He struggled and thrashed and tried to cry 
out.  I stepped back to admire my handiwork and to give him 
time to realize the futility of his attempts toward 
freedom.
     "Slave boys are like cattle, son.  They got to be 
roped, tied and branded!" I said after his thrashing 
ceased.
     I took the candle and began to drip hot wax on his 
body.  I began with the chest dripping wax all around his 
nipples - never on them just around them.  Not knowing what 
was happening to him sent Sandy's mind into full panic, and 
his body soon followed.  His wrists and ankles reddened from 
his brawl with the restraints.  His head flailed, his face 
contorted and he gagged on his own attempts to speak.  But, 
this panic was also pure pleasure to him.  His dick hardened 
and bounced as each drop of hot wax hit his skin.  I 
followed the trail of hair down the center of his abdomen 
stopping only long enough to fill his belly button.  I 
proceeded toward his cock.  His struggling was more of a 
sensual writhing now, and the only noises distorted by the 
gag were moans.  As I watched his pubic hair become coated 
with wax, his cock danced both up and down and back and 
forth as a steady stream of shimmering fairy nectar seeped 
out.  He had completely given himself over to the moment; it 
was time to move on.
     I loosened the nooses and slipped all four of them 
free.  I rolled Sandy over onto his stomach, replaced and 
tightened each leather noose once more.  I pulled the butt 
plug out and carefully scraped all the residue from it back 
into his twitching chute.  I pushed it all back inside with 
my middle finger, and I felt his ass tighten and untighten 
as if to pull my finger further inside.  I removed the 
ball-gag and tossed it to the floor.  After plugging in a 
small strobe light, blowing out the candle and taking care 
of one other necessary detail, I climbed onto the bed and 
straddled his ass.  I began to hump his butt so that my dick 
slid up and down between his ass cheeks.  The lube coated 
rubber allowed it to glide easily on his ass crack; Sandy 
was literally humping the bed.  He was more than ready.
     "Boy, that pussy juice is running all over your cunt.  
I think that ass of yours needs a good hard packin'!"
     I leaned forward and pulled off the blindfold.  Before 
his senses could adjust to going from no light to light 
distorted images, I shoved my cock deep into his ass.  A 
reflex reaction to the ass invasion sent his face to the 
mattress which absorbed most of his violent scream.  I 
wanted this guy badly.  I pressed my body flat against his 
and slipped my arms around him in a bear hug.  My hips began 
their natural rhythmic thrusts, and I settled into the 
feeling of his ass caressing my dick as it dove in and out.  
I found myself clutching him tighter and tighter in an 
effort to make time stagnate in the moment.  With my body 
covering his and my head nestled on his, I heard his 
moaning, I felt his heat, and I sensed his masculinity.  
Gradually, all of this was moving me out of the orbit of 
control.  My hips seemed to have a game plan all their own.  
The pelvic thrusts went from a motion akin to churning 
butter to one like the rough stirring of a cup of hot 
coffee.  Sandy's ass kept fucking back on my dick begging 
for more and more.  The intensity was building, and I 
couldn't fully control either the motion or speed as I 
fucked into his man-cunt deeper and harder and faster.
     "Fuck me!  Fuck your boy, Sir!  Make me your whore, 
Sir!  Make it hurt, Sir!" Sandy moaned out load.
     With those words, my lust went into overdrive.  I bit 
hard into his shoulder as I pounded at his ass without 
mercy.  Sandy screamed; his body went rigid then bucked 
uncontrollably.  A stream of monosyllabic words and sounds 
rushed from him.  I raised up, grabbed his shoulders and 
went for broke.  Before his orgasmic spasms ended, mine 
began.  I pulled and pushed and ground my cock into him 
trying to deposit my load at the center of his being.  Then 
reality escaped me.
     I remained disoriented for a few moments; the strobe 
light had even taken its toll on me.  I finally was able to 
pull myself off and out of Sandy.  Leaving him there in his 
quiet mental, physical and emotional jumble, I staggered out 
to the kitchen.  The muscles of my arms and legs struggled 
to function.  Caffeine and nicotine were my only thoughts.
     As I sat, smoked and drank, my internal control 
mechanism once again seized power.  However, full control 
did not return before I pondered  if I would be able to 
carry out the rest of the plan I had for this man.  With 
each drag on my cigarette and with each sip of coffee, my 
resolve became stronger.  It was time for the final phase.
     I went to the bedroom, turned on the light, freed Sandy 
from his bonds, and retrieved him from his journey to 
dreamland.  I pulled him up by his slave collar, ushered him 
to the bathroom, and sat him on the john.
     "If you've got too piss or shit, boy, now is the time 
to do it!" I commanded.
     "Thank you, Sir!" he groggily replied.
     "Clean this while you're sitting there, fairy boy!" I 
said as I shoved my half flaccid dick in his face.
     Half flaccid was a temporary state after he went to 
work on it.  He still had desire, and that was what all the 
rest of my plan needed from him.  I left him there after 
ordering him to clean himself up.  I grabbed my discarded 
tank from the bedroom and my shorts from the living room,  
and I redressed making sure to stuff a condom and a small 
packet of lube into my pocket.
     I went back to the bathroom and made Sandy stand at 
attention against the bathroom wall as I attacked a tit 
clamp to each of his nipples.  I watched and enjoyed his 
grimacing as the teeth of each clamp dug into its meaty 
target.  I also checked to see that the cockring was tight 
enough to still do its job.  I made Sandy redress but omit 
the undershirt and the tie.  His face showed amazement when 
I ordered him out the door and into my car, but he obeyed 
without hesitation.
     Rural Tennessee has lots of deserted back roads, and I 
had one of them in mind.  It only took ten minutes or so to 
get where I wanted to go, but I made the most of the short 
journey by making Sandy suck my cock the entire way there.  
It also kept him from knowing exactly where he was.
     The black satiny blanket of early morning, the wind 
rushing across my face, and a hot man giving me great head 
made for quite an adrenalin rush.  It was three o'clock in 
the morning, and I was a man with a mission.  Soon we turned 
off onto a gravel road.  I drove until I saw the grove a 
trees I had burned into my memory for just the right 
occasion.  The trees and the ample space where others had 
once pulled off the road were on my side.  I turned the car 
around so that we were facing the direction from whence we 
came.  I directed Sandy to get out of the car.  I exited and 
walked around to him.
     "Assume the position!" I barked.
     Unprepared for this, Sandy hesitated.  I moved in tight 
to him, grabbed him by the dog collar and shoved his upper 
body onto the hood of the car.  I snatched the handcuffs 
from the back of his belt, put my elbow in the center of his 
back, pulled his arms back and cuffed him.
     "Your luck has run out, pussy boy!  You gotta learn how 
to take dick like a man!" I yelled at him.
     Though it had only been rehearsed in my mind, I undid 
his belt and trousers and had them at his ankles almost 
without a hitch.  The only obstacle encountered was getting 
them past his rock hard cock.  This fucker was enjoying this 
every bit as much as I was.
     "Not here!  Oh, God!  Please, Sir!" Sandy begged.
     With his fuck hole lubed and my cock dressed for the 
occasion, I grabbed his collar and launched my attack on his 
ass fortress.  Having already dropped a load, I knew the 
second one had to be royally primed before it would arrive 
to crown this fuck session.  I plowed Sandy's butt wildly.  
His screams echoed and faded in dead air.  The more noise he 
made, the harder and the faster I shoved my fuck staff into 
his willing palace.  Sandy's constant repeating of the 
phrases - "Oh, fuck!", "Oh, God!", and "Oh, shit!" - with 
each deep thrust I made into him soon faded from my 
perception.  I wanted and needed to cum again, but I had to 
concentrate to get there before I wore out my welcome in his 
hot, tight fuck hole.
     I replayed every act and every response from earlier.  
The rumbling in my balls neared the boiling point.  I yanked 
my dick from his ass, shoved Sandy to his knees, tossed 
aside the condom, and forced my dick into his mouth.  I was 
only able to shove his head up and down my dick a few ties 
before I started to spew and scream like a madman.  I 
impounded his head as I unleashed my load down his throat.  
I felt him gag and I felt jiz run out of his mouth and down 
his chin.  I released my grip on his head, but he remained 
in place sucking and tonguing every bit of my juice.  Sandy, 
howling like a wounded wolf, grabbed his own dick, and, as 
soon as he did, he shot a load all over my leg.  He fell 
forward using me to keep himself from collapsing to the 
ground.  I pulled the key from his pocket and released him 
from the handcuffs.  Sandy dropped to all fours and 
proceeded to lick all of his own cum from my leg as well as 
to make sure he hadn't missed any of mine.
     My mission had been accomplished.  We drove home as the 
first light of dawn began to crack the sultry cloak of 
darkness.  Once back to my place and in bed, Sandy snuggled 
up to me in a most childlike fashion.  Sleep consumed us, 
but the lust of real man-sex had bonded us in a deep, 
special and unerasable way.
     Whenever I see the pretty boys - fully accessorized 
with shit for brains and MTV emotions - flitting about or 
standing and modeling as they search for their next GQ cover 
guy to take home, I chuckle to myself.  They can keep their 
tepid sex which allows for nothing that doesn't maintain 
every carefully coiffed hair in its place.  As for me, I 
want sex messy, sweaty, down and dirty with a genuine person 
who without effort is also a real man.