99 lines
5.7 KiB
Plaintext
99 lines
5.7 KiB
Plaintext
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I had always been careful not to be conspicuous, but I always wore the
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scantiest swimming suit of all the men in the pool or at the beach. Even at
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the beaches of Chicago, most of the guys wore these boxer trunks which
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reminded me of tennis shorts more than swimming suits. Since I was on the
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swimming team, and since I did not care to buy an extra pair of trunks, I
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always did have the smallest swimming suit--although sometimes people would
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stare at me, I never paid much attention.
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Recently, however, most guys have taken to wearing these nylon/lycra
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trunks, so this summer I sent off to this place in California that sells
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extremely scanty posing suits for bodybuilders. After they came in the mail,
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I put them on under my clothes, and started off for my lunch hour at the
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pool. I had done this a few times, and had felt very exposed while lying
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under the sun with the girls nearby, but I never expected what happened next.
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I had always listened to them talking about their boyfriends and other
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assorted fraternity and sorority happenings, imagining myself as a part of
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the activities. I never expected that I would actually become a part of
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their frantic world. I often had to turn over and let my back get the sun in
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order to hide my erection, and I had to take special care to wash my new
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trunks in order to prevent staining.
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Here is where it gets interesting. I was walking toward the pool when
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this car pulls up and a bunch of girls start yelling "THAT'S HIM-GET HIM-
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THAT'S THE ONE WE WANT-NOW!" Two big guys get out with knives, and about
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three of these girls come with them, holding small guns in their hands.
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"Get into the car," they said, and I couldn't argue, although I did look
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for escape routes. I didn't find any.
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I was blindfolded and driven around for about one hour. I struggled
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all the time, but only heard female voices saying things like "He'll be a
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good one, we'll get a lot out of him!"
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I was then led into a large room and strapped to a platform, and there
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I was: my ankles and wrists tied, spread-eagled, and facing about 200 to
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300 anxious co-eds. I had been abducted by a sorority. And the girls were
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not only hot and ready, they, were in the mood for what they called fun.
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The girl in charge took a microphone and said "Here we have a teacher.
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Girls, we really have him!" [A loud cheer, like men at a strip show.]
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"What am I given for his shoes?"
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The shoes got $5. The socks $6. After each piece of clothing was
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stripped form me, loud screams rang out from the crowd of nearly
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uncontrolled women and girls. I suddenly realized that I was the prize in
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a fund raiser! The shirt got $50. Then came the pants. The bidding was
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competitive, and meanwhile I tried to escape. The bidding continued for
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some time, and every few seconds she would prod me with a needle in order
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to make me squirm more, and this had the result of raising the bidding,
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screaming, and applause. The girls were frantic, but one finally came up
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with the top bid. She got to cut off the pants, and I was left wearing
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only my thin new posing suit.
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Then a new wrinkle came into it, one I did not expect at all: "Who
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would like to bid on the torture?" was the question. I saw electrodes, and
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they were connected to my chest, thighs, and biceps. With each bid, the
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money was collected and the voltage was increased. I jolted and throbbed
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on the stage in front of 300 women.
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Then a collar was put on me, an electric one. "What song shall we
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make him dance to?" was the call. $4,000 was the winning bid, and I was
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forced to throb and pulsate to the rhythms while the women in the audience
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screamed and yelled. Each time the music gave a strong beat, I was given a
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strong jolt, sometimes on my neck, sometimes on my stomach, sometimes on my
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legs. BOOM, JOLT; BOOM BOOM, JOLT thighs; BOOM, BOOM, NECK STOMACH; and
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so it went.
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I was exhausted, but the electric shocks made me keep pulsating. Then
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the shocks stopped, and I was given a rest. The sweat came from every part
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of my body and began to cool. This caused me to shiver and my muscles
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trembled. I almost cursed to hours I spent in the gym lifting weights. I
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wanted to sleep, but as soon as I started to rest, another electric shock
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would hit my abdominals.
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The mistress of ceremonies then did something I didn't expect: "WHO
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WILL BID ON THE TRUNKS? THESE LITTLE BITS OF CLOTH? WHO WANTS TO SEE HIM
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COMPLETELY NAKED? COMPLETELY!?"
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The bidding was frantic, and I don't remember the amount. But I was
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soon naked in front of 300 women, who were screaming and shouting, and I
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was throbbing to the rhythms of the rock station they hooked up to my
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body.
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"WHO GETS TO PLAY WITH HIS SHAFT?" was the next call. I had no rest
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while the bidding went on, still vibrating to the rock music. One of the
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women won, and she came to me. She slowly put her hand on my penis and
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stroked the under-side of it. She tried every variation possible, and was
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very slow. I was torn between a desire to escape and a desire to come.
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Every time I was about to come, she would stop until my shame and
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humiliation caused me to loose my erection. She put a cock ring on me, and
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I found that I no longer lost it despite my embarrassment of being so
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exposed and dominated in front of 300 women. She continued to play and,
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after what seemed hours of her squeezing and stroking which caused more
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muscle tensing on my part, I came. I was then put out into another room
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and told that I could put my clothes on and continue with my business. Now
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anytime I walk down a street and see some women coming the other way, I
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remember that day.
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