SEVEN HITS! Get Your Ass Ready! (9 page)

His cock pried Beck open, filled his asshole, then his guts, swelling like a balloon inside him. “Oh shit!” he said. “Ah fuck!” he cried as the tip began to press against his prostate, harder now, more and more of Tommy’s endless cock entering him. His own cock, rubbing roughly against the edge of the bed, now got slick relief as Tommy’s hard meat pushed the first drops of Beck’s own juices out of his dick.

As if he knew it, one of Tommy’s hands traveled down Beck’s torso to his cock, touching the slick tip. “That’s it. Gonna fuck the cum right out of you. You ever had a man fuck the cum out of you without touching yourself?”

“No!” Beck cried, wondering why not. What the fuck had he been missing all these years?

Tommy’s hands came out from underneath him now as he raised himself off Beck, and one hand grabbed and twisted the chains of his harness into a pair of reins, while the other pushed Beck’s face down into the mattress. “Here we go,” he said, and his cock began to move.

The pressure came off Beck’s prostate, and the head of Tommy’s cock nearly came out of his ass, but Tommy was a fucking expert, and the head just stayed inside Beck. And just as his asshole tried to squeeze it out, Tommy pushed back in, slow and smooth, all the way in. As Beck started to cry out, Tommy put his hand over his mouth, smothering his shout. “Go on, bitch, nobody’s gonna hear you. Not even in this place. Nobody’s coming to save your ass.” Tommy’s long reach let him grab a pillow and stuff it under Beck’s head.

Tommy picked up the pace now, and Beck was glad to have his face shoved into the pillow, glad to be able to scream with pain and pleasure as Tommy wrecked his ass, reckless now, punching it, pounding it.

“First load, man, comin
’ up.” Tommy started panting now, not from exertion but from the tension in his own roots, the muscles clenching tighter and tighter as the tingling in his cock got more powerful. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Now his hands wrapped around Tommy’s throat again, tighter this time, and Beck felt the pressure rise in his head. And in his cock! Oh shit he was going to cum too.

As Tommy shouted, cried out with animal rage and glee, pumping Beck’s guts full of cum, Beck shouted too, his cock getting jacked off from the inside, the pressure of Tommy’s explosion pushing his own cream out into the mattress.

“Oh yeah,” Tommy said, “cum for me, bitch. Fucking cum with me.” Beck’s dick had no choice, it wasn’t like beating off where you stopped after the peak – this went on and on, as long as Tommy kept pumping him, his cock still hard even after his load was spent. Tommy’s weight was down on him again now, body to body, and the friction rubbed his wrists raw, the handcuffs clanking, metal against metal.

Beck started crying now, tears of exhaustion, pain, ecstasy, broken on the rack of Tommy’s making. His brain was flooded with pleasure chemicals as the agony in his ass from
the continued cock-beating was magically transformed by his own orgasm into pure stinging pleasure.

Tommy kept on, driving his still-hard cock, right into round two. Beck’s prostate was screaming in pain now, demanding to be let go now that it had had its fun, every man instinct wanting to roll over and go to sleep, but no way was Tommy stopping.

Then just as Beck started to think this was going to be hell, this was awful, he started to feel it again himself, the renewed response, the surge of pleasure, more intense this time as a second orgasm, harder to attain, approached for both of them.

“Now you’re gonna get it,” Tommy said, and put his hands around Beck’s hips, back on his own knees now. His thrusts were hard and fast, brutal, insane, animal, and Beck panted into the pillow, feeling the pressure of his own juices renewed, discharged by force again. “Fuck yeah!” Tommy shouted, exploding inside him again.

Finally Tommy stopped for breath. “Awesome,” he said, his hands gentle now, wrapped around Beck in a spent embrace, his sweat dripping off his head onto Beck’s, dripping down Beck’s face. Beck put his tongue out to catch it, bitter and salty.

“Nice,” Tommy said. “Drink up.” He shook his head like a dog and the sweat flew, and Beck licked up every drop his tongue could chase.

He heard a cell phone ringing, knew it must be Tommy’s. Tommy leaned back, reached around to the pocket of his shorts, still around his ankles, his long cock still inside Beck. He laughed as he recognized the caller and answered the phone.

“Hey man, what’s up. Yeah, I’m at the
VacaLodge. Oh yeah. Yeah, totally. Fucking five star cock sucker. Oh yeah, totally. All the way. Probably, yeah, but lemme ask.” He pushed his cock back into Beck’s ass, slowly, till it was halfway in. “You know who this is, calling me?”

“No,” Beck whispered, his asshole singing its own ringtone song in his head, begging for Tommy to start fucking him again.

“That’s my buddy from track 3, man. That dude right there.”

Beck looked back at the computer. The guy with the eagle tattoo across his chest was still pounding his own greedy pig, hard and fast. “No mercy there, man. I’ve got you warmed up, all nice and ready for him. You want it?”

“Fuck yeah!” Beck said without a second thought.

Tommy laughed, pulling out at last, and for Beck it was like losing a limb. Tommy pulled up his drawers, his cock still slippery with cum and lube. “He’s on his way, he’s just down the street. I’ll just leave you right here like that for him. I’ll slip him your room key when I meet him on the corner. Let him know the cuff keys are still in the suitcase. Don’t worry man, he’ll unlock you.” Tommy got up and headed towards the door. As he went to open it, he turned around.

“Oh, one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

Beck saw Tommy’s wicked grin. “When you’re done for the night, don’t forget to clean up all that shit, and put it back in the suitcase. All ready for the next guy.” Then he winked and he was gone.

The credits were short and to the point. By the time Tyler got some lube on his cock and balls, the action had started. This was why Tyler, and so many other guys, loved Pirate Island Videos – no plot, no slow stripping, just straight to what you came for. And another reason guys loved these movies, well…

It was a modern hotel room – a Marriott, Tyler guessed from the light fixtures in the headboard. You could hear a murmur of traffic outside. The young man was face down on the bed, naked, ready. His face was obscured by a blindfold, and his hands were tied in front of him. His ass was in the air, waiting for whoever came in to take and abuse it.

Then, over the crest of his ass, you could see the door open. Two men walked in, with no hesitation – this was their room, and everything in it was theirs too.

Yeah! Tyler thought, stroking himself, stiffening at the sight of Mitch Bradford, one of the biggest
badasses
in the Pirate Island stable. His buzzed head and short goatee made him look cruel, malevolent, a top who could give a shit whether you liked what you were about to get or not – a top who knew that if you were the kind of pig who’d been hired to service him, you did, you fuckin’ loved it.

The other guy was another Pirate Island regular, Zack Black, who had a smooth baby face. He was the kind of guy you’d see in a bar and you’d never guess he was one of Pirate Islands roughest, most merciless fuckers.

They didn’t waste any time. The door latched closed behind them and in a flash, Mitch was up on the bed, his pants half undone, his belt hanging loose and flapping in the young man’s face. He bucked and twitched when the unseen black leather belt stung his cheek. Mitch sandpapered the nameless bottom’s face with the front of his jeans, rubbing his hard cock across the mouth he was about to skullfuck. His muscles stood out in his wife beater as he slapped his bitch with his belt, his tats shining in the bright lights.

The young man practically slobbered all over the tail of the belt, desperate for something in his mouth, so hungry to take what was coming, maybe not even knowing, not caring, who’d gotten the job of filling it.

Meanwhile at the foot of the bed, Zack had his jeans open and his dick popped out, already hard as a rock at the sight of that smooth rounded receptacle.
Fuck, that cock is big!
Tyler thought, gawking at Zack’s long straight fat pole. Nine real inches for sure, not nine “Internet inches.” He didn’t even strip, he couldn’t wait that long to get it in that hot greasy hole. As the pig realized there was another guy in the room, his ass started bucking and rearing in a frenzy of anticipation, begging for it.

Mitch popped open the buttons on his 501s and pulled out his weapon. The cockslut’s mouth was seeking it eagerly, but Mitch backed up and slapped him with the end of the belt. “Wait for it,” he said, the first of few words.

The cockslut moaned just a little, suddenly realizing who it was, thrilled and afraid and hungry, knowing what he was about to endure, knowing what kind of punishment was coming.

Then, staring at each other like two experienced teammates, Mitch and Zack simultaneously entered and owned their holes, Mitch’s hands on the back of the bitch’s head and Zack’s on his shoulders. Both men drove in deep, simultaneously, Mitch’s cock stifling the shout caused by the searing pain of Zack’s entry, as he thrust himself deep into that hole all at once with no hesitation, no patience, no mercy.

“Oh fuck!” Tyler whispered, his hand sliding too fast over his own hard cock. The signals from his eyes, to his brain, to his dick, his balls, his prostate were too strong, too powerful to resist. He slowed down his strokes, wanting this to last, needing to see Mitch batter down the last of the bottom’s defenses.

“My turn,” Mitch said, and they switched positions, and now it was Zack’s cock down the bottom’s throat like a fucking plunger, the young man gagging, tears leaking from beneath the blindfold, but that meat was not coming out of that red, shiny, sweaty face, that tight throat hole.

And Mitch began to fuck his ass, hard, fast, putting his whole body into it, undulating like a snake, energy rippling from his toes through his ass in each nail-gun punch of his cock deep into flesh, finishing each thrust with a clench of his abs to get that last, extra bit of tool all the way up there, to give it that last push at the angle that squashed the exhausted, agonized sub’s prostate like a grape.

Tyler’s own prostate reacted sympathetically, pulsing and throbbing, the pressure in his balls building, the sweet pain of anticipation in his cock tightening and tingling, muscles slowly tightening his scrotum. The screen filled with a close-up of Mitch’s rod as he pulled it out, just in time to
splooge
his first spurt all over that asshole. Then he plunged it back in, pumping that cum tank full of gallon after gallon of cum…

Zack tore the blindfold off the little slut so he could see everything, see who was nailing him front and back. The guy was in his early twenties, undoubtedly cute when his face wasn’t red, sweaty, and contorted with agony and ecstasy. His mouth hung open and his glazed eyes were wide with shock as the cameraman zoomed in to show what it looked like, felt like, to be split open by Mitch fucking Bradford.

Then Zack busted his nut all over that face, smacking his dick against it. The sub flinched with each slap, his eyes closed against the battering and his mouth open to get every drop it could.

It was too much for Tyler, as he gushed hot jizz
all over himself, stroking in time to the action of Mitch’s gut-punching cock...

Even as Tyler’s cum splattered everywhere, he thought to himself,
And that was just the first scene!

That weekend he and his buddies went out to Dark Bar. The Folsom bar was a notorious dive, where the
piggiest
dirtiest guys in San Francisco would go to make all kinds of connections for the night. Under the influence of the loud, messy, menacing music, the dim lighting, the men with narrowed eyes whose intent belied their smiles, the round after round of Jager shots…Tyler was ready for anything now.

He saw a familiar face, or one that looked familiar…
who’s that guy? I know him
.

He was standing in a corner in a leather jacket, no shirt, black jeans and Docs, surrounded by guys who were all over him, competing for a piece of him. They ran hands over his chest, his ass, and he was loving it, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and then it hit Tyler – it was the little
cumslut
from the Pirate Island video! The one Mitch and Zack had used and abused in the hotel room scene!

Tyler found himself burning with jealousy.
Look at those dudes all around him…
Some of them were guys Tyler recognized from the Mr. S Leather emails – ripped, tattooed models so hot you could jack off just to the fucking pictures of them in the latest gear, holding toys up with a knowing look that said,
you would do anything to have me use this on you, wouldn’t you?

The little bastard freed himself to go to the bathroom, and Tyler followed him, not knowing why. He was a big bottom himself, there was no way he’d ever want to hook up with him – what would they do, throw their
asses
in the air and wait for company? But he had to talk to him.

He got behind him in line, tapped him on the shoulder and shouted over the music. “Hey, I saw you in that movie, that was fucking hot, man. You’re a lucky bastard, getting nailed by Mitch Bradford.”

The guy smiled. “Thanks, man. Yeah, I got fucking paid for that, too! Is that crazy or what?”

“Yeah!” Tyler said, the shots of Jager loosening his tongue. “I’m fucking jealous!”

“You shouldn’t be. You could do it.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a good looking dude. You think you could take that kind of pounding?”

“Fuck yeah!”

The guy smiled, doubting it. He extended his hand. “I’m Jeff.”