Date: Sat, 3 Jan 2009 23:24:16 EST From: EddyRiha@aol.com Subject: games with stefan 27 The usual disclaimers apply. This is a work of fiction, and those folks who are prevented from reading such fictional works either by age, by moral preference, or by law should not read any further. All of the characters presented here are fictional representations, including the narrator. Some of the events and characters are inspired by actual events and people I encountered in my younger days, but the presentation here of events and characters in no way is meant to portray actual, historical persons and events. It's just a story. All stunts were performed by professionals. Do not attempt these at home. Thank you again to all the readers for the encouragement and the constructive criticism you have provided as I continue to develop this story. I have been busy with other projects the past few months, but I have been developing a whole story arc that begins with this chapter. No winter hiking enthusiasts were harmed in the writing or reading of this story. If anyone is offended by the premise of the story, or by explicit sexual acts, please do not read any further. Why, indeed, have you read this far? Games With Stefan by eddyriha Chapter #27-The Camping Trip (Part 1) I couldn't believe our luck: both Stefan's parents and mine had agreed to let us go camping, by ourselves, a whole weekend in the Adirondacks. I was sixteen and had just passed my driver's test, but I'd been putting in a lot of miles in the old '69 Impala I was driving around (that's the real model year, not some inside joke) and as long as I promised not to drive after dark, the adults figured it would be OK. That was easy to promise. I had a whole lot of ideas about what we'd be doing after dark, and none of them involved me driving anywhere. . . . So we spent Friday morning loading the hatchback of the car with our backpacks and all the stuff we'd later be stuffing into those packs-a camp stove, some food, two sleeping bags, two foam mats, a tent, and some clothes. Not to mention two flashlights, some bug spray, some sunscreen, two canteens, some matches, all that kind of stuff. I remembered to bring along some extra rope, the leather straps I'd used several times on Stefan, his dog collar and leash, and (of course) the tube of Vaseline from the cabinet under the bathroom sink. Without much fanfare, about two o'clock I backed out of my driveway, and we were on our way. Of course, I pulled over once we were out of sight of the house, and Stefan shucked off his shirt, socks, and sneakers, and I put the dog collar around his neck, then tied one end of the rope to the metal loop where I usually snapped on the leash. From there, I ran the rope down his back and tied his wrists together, then slipped the rope along his ass crack, pulling it up between his legs. There, I looped the rope around his cock and balls, making sure it was tight enough so he was aroused, but not so tight that he would be in real pain. Then I slid the rope through the right leg of his shorts, finishing it off by tying his bare feet together. Then I pulled his shorts back into place so that the elastic held the tip of his erect cock against his tanned belly. I leaned down and kissed the tip, and Stefan giggled. He was all smiles and giggles, since he loved nothing more than being tied up, and we had a two-hour drive before we reached the place where we'd start hiking in to our campsite. All that way, he'd be helpless, just the way he liked it. I made sure to snap his shoulder belt on over the bound boy, and then I started the car again. My shorts were clearly tenting, as I watched Stefan out of the corner of my eye. I wanted so much to do him right then and there, but there would be plenty of time for that later. I had all I could do to concentrate on my driving. Of course, part of the game involved tormenting my slave, and I did that while I was driving by every so often placing my hand on his shorts and squeezing his balls. Or grabbing his dick and tugging on it. Each time, his asscheeks clenched, and he tried to lift himself off the seat and into my hand, but then I would slap him, as if to say, "No, not yet." And when I stopped at the first rest area on the interstate, I parked at some distance from the restrooms, where no one else had parked, because while I didn't mind looking at my boy all tied up like that, I wasn't sure how hidden my handiwork would be to anyone who happened to stroll past the car. So I went inside and did my business, then bought myself a cold Mountain Dew at the vending machine as I sauntered casually back to the car. Stefan looked up at me, desire in his eyes, as he watched me take a drink from the bottle. I set it into the beverage container holder that I had rigged (it hung off the dashboard between where we were seated). Because he was bound, he couldn't reach it, so he looked at me, his big brown eyes all desire and longing. "What do you want?" I demanded, pretending to be angry. "Some Mountain Dew, please," he said, adding after a moment, "Sir." I picked up the bottle and, instead of putting it to my lips, I pretended to take a big swallow. "Please!" he begged. We hadn't been gone from home that long that he should be so thirsty. It was a warm afternoon, though, and I didn't want my slave to be parched. (You can't suck a cock with a dry mouth, after all.) So I said to him, "Open your mouth, and keep it open." He obeyed, automatically closing his eyes as he did. I took some of the Mountain Dew into my mouth, and then I poised my lips over his open mouth, before releasing the soda in a quick stream between his lips. He quickly swallowed the Mountain Dew and opened his mouth for more. In that way I transferred the remainder of the bottle to him. And as I gave him the soda from my mouth to his, I would every so often kiss his lips and tweak the tip of his cock, which was held in place by the elastic of his shorts. When I had finished giving Stefan the soda, I tossed the empty bottle onto the back seat. Then I noticed a trucker sitting on a nearby picnic table, rubbing his crotch through his jeans. He mouthed at me, "That's so fucking hot!" I smiled, and mouthed back, "He's mine." Then I started the car, and got back on the highway, leaving the trucker to pleasure himself. For dinner, I stopped at a Burger King at the Glens Falls exit, and went inside to get us two Whoppers. I suppose I could have gone through the drive-thru, but from an elevated angle, the workers inside the restaurant would have been able to see Stefan's condition. I'd already had a couple of truckers toot their horns when I passed them and they realized the neat package on my front seat. So we just sat in the parking lot, me eating my burger and feeding Stefan his every so often. It was fun making him beg for food, and I had the feeling he'd be doing much more of that in the next couple of days. . . . It was a half hour before sunset when we reached the trailhead, where we would leave the car and hike to the campsite I had in mind. Most of the way there, we would be using old dirt roads, with only a little actual climbing involved. Because Stefan was not the experienced hiker I was, I had chosen a camping place which would be enough away from everyone that we could play our games, but it was also easily accessed by a boy who hadn't gone on many hikes. Especially a boy who would be subjected to my wishes. I left Stefan strapped in the seat as I took our backpacks out of the car and made sure that everything was properly stowed in them. As the sun was setting, and since there were no other people around, just a handful of empty cars sitting in the parking lot, I opened the passenger side door and unbuckled the seatbelt, then untied the rope which bound Stefan's wrists, cock, and ankles. He stretched and slowly stood, dressed only in his shorts (with no underwear, but only he and I would have been aware of that fact). He slipped on his socks and sneakers, then his t-shirt, after receiving my permission. Then I showed him his pack and helped him put it on his shoulders. Then I put on mine, and after locking up the car, we were ready for the trail. "But won't it be dark soon?" he asked as we reached the trailhead register, where I signed us in and indicated where we'd be camping and how long we expected to be there. "Yeah," I replied with a shrug. "No problem." I had hiked this dirt road before, in semidarkness, as well as in the daylight. But tonight we would have a full moon, so even Stefan would be able to see the way, once his eyes adjusted to the dim light. So we walked for awhile, with Stefan sticking close to me every time he heard some noise in the underbrush. I wasn't worried about any noises, since anything large enough to disturb us would make too much noise running away once it sensed we were human beings. There were bear and perhaps coyote in the woods, but few of them would wander down to the roadways where most of the humans ventured. About a half mile into the woods, when I was certain we were not going to encounter any hikers coming or going, and when the moonlight was our only means of illumination (I had a couple of flashlights, but I left them in the backpacks), I stopped and set down my pack against a tree. I helped Stefan off with his pack, and he stretched his arms, swinging them to free any stiffness in his shoulders. "Are we camping here?" he asked. "No," I replied. "But we are making a change. Take off your clothes." He looked at me in such a way that, even though I couldn't see his eyes in the shadow of his face, I knew he was wondering what kind of weird game I had in mind here. "Strip," I said. "Don't make me tell you again." Hesitantly, he removed his shirt and then his shorts. He handed them to me and awaited my next instructions. "I said strip. That means everything. Or do I have to punish you, slave?" He didn't stop to think, since the tone of my voice made it clear I was serious. In a moment, he handed me his socks and sneakers. He stood with his feet on the sand and small pebbles of the dirt road, totally naked, shivering more from anticipation than from cold. "That's better," I said as I stowed his clothes and footwear into his backpack. I had deliberately made his pack lighter than mine because I knew he couldn't carry as much as I could. Also, I had removed a few unnecessary items of clothing from his pack, since I knew he wouldn't have any need for them. I handed him his backpack. "Put it on," I said. He hesitated a moment, then slid one arm and then the other through the shoulder straps and fastened the belt around his naked waist. Then I took a rope out of my pack and tied his wrists together in front of him, then threading the rope through the frame of his backpack and tying it so his hands were brought to the center of his chest. Then I snapped the leash onto his dog collar. Once I had repositioned my own pack on my back, I gave a tug on the leash and, without any further instructions, began leading Stefan, naked and barefoot, down the road. After awhile, when we reached an open space between trees on either side of the road, I made him walk before me, so I could watch his legs and imagine his ass in motion (it was shaded from the moonlight by his backpack). We walked in silence, allowing the quiet of the woods surround and embrace us. All that you could hear was our breaths, mine steady and deliberate, his rapid and straining, as he carried a backpack for probably the first time and also walked carefully with his bare feet along the sandy and pebbly road. A little more than a mile from the car we came around a bend to see a large barn to the right and a couple of other buildings to our left. (They were associated with an old abandoned farm that had been in operation about fifty years ago.) Stefan stopped and looked uncertainly toward the buildings. "Will they see us?" he whispered. "Only the ghosts will," I said. "No one lives here anymore." At the word "ghosts," I could sense him tense. "There are ghosts?" he asked, his voice tinged with fear. "Maybe," I replied, "maybe not." I started walking toward the nearest building, which had once been used to process milk from the cows kept in the barn. Because I still held the leash, Stefan was obliged to follow. I set down my pack against the front wall of the house and, once I untied his wrists, motioned to Stefan that he should do the same. He dropped the pack against the wall, then stretched his arms and yawned. "Don't become too comfortable," I told him. "We've only hiked a mile, and we have four more to go before we reach our campsite." He groaned. "It's such a long way." "It will go by quickly enough. Just think about all of the fun things we will do when we get there." At that thought, I saw his cock twitch. Clearly, this boy wanted the same kind of fun I had in mind. I knelt in front of him and took his dick in my right hand. I massaged it, feeling it harden more under the touch of my fingers. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back slightly, his lips pursing together as his hips pushed his groin toward me. My left hand reached around and gently caressed his buttcheeks, feeling the cool of the skin that was exposed to the night air. I took him into my mouth, tasting the salty tang from his last piss, his sweat, the firmness of his erection in my mouth. I slid my tongue back and forth under the shaft, massaging it gently, as he kept it thrust as far into my mouth as it would go. In a moment, all too soon, a shudder ran through his body, and his cock began to buck and jump in my mouth--another dry orgasm. Even in the moonlight, I could see his eyes were closed, enjoying the moment. But the moment wasn't all about him, so as I stood up, I turned him around and bent him over a picnic table which stood by the front door. I kicked his bare legs apart and felt for his hole with my fingers. It was already lubed, as I expected. This boy sure knew what his master expected. Of course, I had plenty of Vaseline and baby oil with me, but it was nice to know that Stefan had followed the old Boy Scout motto: "Be Prepared." I pulled his arms behind him and tied the wrists together. I didn't want him to be able to brace himself; I wanted him to feel the full weight of me as I pounded his ass. Dropping my shorts and underwear and then lining up behind his hole, I pushed quickly in, the boy's sphincter catching hold of my shaft and pulling me in. My pubes brushed against his hairless ass, and I held myself in place for a couple of minutes, enjoying the warm, familiar, comforting feel of Stefan's hole enveloping and swallowing my rigid cock. Then I began slowly to push into him, then pull back, building a steady rhythm that forced his chest again and again against the rough wood of the picnic table. His breath came in gasps, and he moaned a little, but he didn't complain. When I paused a moment to wipe the sweat off my forehead, for I was working up quite a sweat, he pushed his ass back against me, inviting me in further and further. I slapped him on the hip and said, "Be patient, slave." I waited another moment, then began ramming his ass harder than before, forcing his breath out in loud gasps. I was building to a quick climax, but just before the point of no return, I abruptly pulled out. Then I swung him around, pushed him to his knees, his face level with my cock. He opened his mouth, expecting to take my shaft in, even though it was covered with the lube from his ass. But I kept my distance and, with my hand on his shoulder, kept him from moving closer. I stroked my cock three or four times, and on the next stroke I shot my cum all over Stefan's waiting face. Some of it went into his mouth, but most went on his cheeks, chin, neck, forehead. After my cum had stopped, I dribbled the last little bit onto his tongue and allowed him to swallow it. But with my free hand (the other one still holding his shoulder) I rubbed my cum into the skin of his face and neck. Even in the dim moonlight I could see a slight sheen where the skin had been lotioned by my jizz. There was enough that I could spread it over most of his face. When I had finished, I leaned forward and kissed him. Stefan's face now smelled strongly of my cum, a salty, tangy smell that I never could be tired of. "You will not wash your face the entire trip, you understand?" He nodded. "I want you to be marked by my scent so every animal in these woods--human or not--will know that you are my property." Then I untied his wrists, had him put on his backpack again, then I tied his arms the way they had been before. After I'd pulled up my shorts and taken up my own backpack, I gave a tug on Stefan's leash, and we were on the trail once more.