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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Archive name: happcamp.txt (mm+, gang-rp, v)
Authors name: Mark E. Dassad (no address)
Story title : HAPPY CAMPERS
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(C) 1992 Mark E. Dassad. May be reproduced and re-
distributed un-edited and un-altered in electronic
form with this notice intact. The author reserves the
right to sell paper copies at huge profit to the
disconnected.
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Happy Campers
by Mark E. Dassad
+++++++ "It's not about violence, it's not about sex.
It's about violent sex." ++++++++
"Hey squirt!"
Hushed voices, nasty giggling. Nervous. A dirty pair
of boys jockeys quickly stuffed into his mouth. gig-
gling. Desperate hisses to each other to shut up, quit
laughing. Strong hands grab at his arms, flip the ter-
rified, struggling boy over, expertly lash his hands
tightly behind his back, as two other pairs of hands
succeed in holding his legs still as his ankles are
bound securely together, a roll of tape is wound around
his head securing the gag in his mouth.
"Shit!" someone whispers. "how's he gonna blow us?"
More giggles, he can hear punching, scuffling, gig-
gling, desperate whispers again to shut up. His heart
races he thinks he can hear it pounding in his ears.
He tries to scream, feels his chest vibrate with the
effort but only a muffled cottony "mff" escapes.
"what're you buttheads doing?" Randy, one of his
bunkmates is awake. A baseball nut, a jock. He hates
him. He hates them all. It's mutual.
"You wanna take his place?" one of the abductors
whispers menacingly.
"Nah I wanna _watch_," Randy hisses back.
"shut up or you're next, asshole."
He is lifted by his shoulders and ankles and dragged
twisting from the tent, wearing only the undershorts
and camp t-shirt he was sleeping in. Staring up into
the night, eyes wide with terror, he blanches at the
sight of the smiling faces of three older boys from
the Senior group. Rod, Tom, Spike. Fresh-Air Fund
kids from the city, they carry switch-blades and
scared the piss out his upper-middle-class sensibil-
ities.
They drag him higher into the woods, crashing through
underbrush, swearing and grunting. When they decide
they are far enough away from the camp that they won't
be detected they dump him unceremoniously on the
ground. Pine needles press through his underwear and
he struggles futilely to roll over and away from the
needles pricking his genitals.
He listens to his captors talking quietly, they sound
excited, he can't see them from where he is lying and
he can't connect names or faces to the voices.
"Shit I wish we could get some beers," one of them
says.
"Speed man, I really could use some speed."
"Pussy!" the third one blurts out, and they all laugh.
One of them nudges him with a heavy booted foot, and
they squat down next to his bound form and roll him
onto his back so his arms are cramped beneath him,
digging into his spine. A small flashlight shines in
his face so he is blinded; he sees the glint of metal,
assumes it's a blade. He's already wet himself in
terror, and only moans pitifully as he feels a hand
grab at his crotch.
"Fucker pissed himself!" the crotch-grabber laughs,
wipes his hand off on the boy's leg.
One of them leans into his face, holding a blade close
to his nose. Spike? Rod?
"I'm gonna take this gag offa you but if you scream I
swear it I'll cut yer dick off I mean it." A thumb
and forefinger close around the head of his penis, and
twist, hard, for emphasis. He arches his back and
tries to scream.
"Fuck the little faggot really did piss himself!"
He feels a hand underneath his jockeys, hears a tearing
sound; his underwear is yanked from his body, used to
wipe up where he peed himself. Realizing he's lying
bound and naked on a prickly bed of pine needs, strug-
gling fiercely, he finally manages to not cry.
The boys talk in low tones around his head; he is
incapable of anticipating what they are planning, they
don't teach this sort of thing in seventh grade health
class, and even as the tape is torn from around his
head, the dirty jockeys drawn from his mouth, and the
leader -- Tom? -- lowers his jeans and underwear and
kneels straddling his shoulders, he is surprised,
shocked, _dumb-founded_, when a soft fleshy penis is
pressed against his tightly closed mouth.
"Blow me!"
He cannot make his jaw un-clench, it is too disgusting.
A white hot pain jumps across his groin; one of the
others has picked up a thin supple branch and whipped
it across his crotch, lashing the head of his prick.
He opens his mouth to scream and the swelling cock
pressing at his lips is stuffed into his mouth; hands
are clutching at the sides of his head, he chokes and
gags and tries to scream, afraid he is being smothered,
strangled, by the penis thrusting in his face.
"Bite me and I'll cut off your dick and make you eat
it," the boy pistoning in his face whispers menacingly.
He is sure the threat is serious; he opens his mouth
and lets the boy use him. The penis slides wetly in
his mouth, he can feel it growing. He feels the weight
of his attacker sliding back and forth along his chest
as the penis slides back and forth between his teeth.
He tries to catch the rhythm, to breathe, so he won't
panic, but there is no rhythm, instinct wins and he
twists franticly, only distantly aware of cruel,
excited laughter.
"Make him do you good!" one of the others whispers.
"Fuck his face. Do it!"
He is surprised when the penis is withdrawn; he knows
about jerking off, and he felt the first wet pre-cum
at the back of his throat; he was waiting for the
horrible moment when the boy -- Rod? -- would come in
his mouth.
The boy gets up off his chest: he is pulled to his
feet, dragged a short distance, pushed to his knees,
bent face first over a large available log. He
whimpers miserably, terrified of what he does not
understand, his naked groin hurts pressed into the
rough bark of the log.
More excited whispers. Hands brushing pine needles
from his naked butt.
"Smooth like a fucking girl's."
"Tighter than pussy, you remember the little nigger we
did last Summer?"
"Still wish it was pussy."
Hands pry his buttocks apart. He hears a loud spitting
noise, something presses at his sphincter. He begs,
pleads.
"What are you doing??" "Don't..." "Please..." "Stop!"
"Shut him up!" The one pressing at his ass orders the
others. The pressure at his opening is becoming un-
bearable, he tries to lean forward and away from the
sensation, but only succeeds in scraping his vulnerable
genitals against the rough bark.
Terrible pain! His muscle dilates against its will and
his attacker's stiff penis pushes into him.
A high-pitched shriek escapes his lungs, echoing about
the darkness until the wet urine-soaked remains of his
underwear are stuffed into his mouth. He does not
notice the foul rag in his mouth, his mind is reeling,
his entire existence is focused on the thing that is
stretching his asshole.
He is sure it will kill him, the fire inside him is
unbearable, he wishes he would faint but instead he
feels the penis pushing deeper into him, stretching
him open, pressing him into the log until at last it
seems it can go no deeper and his mind leaps as it is
withdrawn, thankful the ordeal is finished... but
just as the monster in his ass is about to exit it
slams back in, harder and deeper; he shrieks, but only
a muffled groan escapes the filthy rag and the specta-
tors giggle.
"Sounds like the faggot likes it."
His body slams back and forth as the monster stretches
him open, his groin slams into the log again and again
he has lost all sense of time as his rapist continues
to use him. Amid the fiery pain, he feels an un-
familiar wetness spreading deep inside his colon, and
at last the penis bludgeoning his rectum is withdrawn.
He sags in relief against the log; jerks hysterically,
his mind cries out in disbelief as the second abductor
-- Spike? Rod?? -- clutches his buttocks and drives a
stiff, hard penis deep into his freshly raped ass. He
is sobbing behind the filthy rag in his mouth, he
hears the one who initiated him talking softly to the
third boy as he feels his rectum stretch and pull
trying to accommodate the penis filling him.
"The little rich bastards are always the best."
"Yeah. Soft and pink."
A limp penis appears in front of his nose; strong hands
are gripping his shoulders, fucking him harder than the
first one; he feels the penis driving deeper, splitting
him wider and he can only twist and grunt in terror.
"Clean it off asshole."
A hand pulls his head up and he looks into the grinning
face of the boy who took his cherry. He grimaces in
agony each time the cock pounding into him hits bottom,
and he sees the boy smile.
"You like that huh?"
He sees a knife out of the corner of his eye.
"You wanna be our girlfriend this Summer?"
The rag is pulled from his mouth and replaced with a
soft wet penis. It tastes of shit and blood and salty
semen and he gags and tries to pull his head away, but
hands clasp his hair, force him to keep the cock in his
mouth, he feels it at the back of his throat, he feels
the penis still working in his ass, the two slam into
him from either end, off sync, wildly.
Somewhere faraway he feels a wetness spreading inside
him, and the second penis is withdrawn from his ass
while the one in his face continues to slide wetly in
his mouth. He knows now to expect a third penis at his
backside and he is not disappointed.
This boy is shorter and wilder. He feels the numbing
pain of a fat cock stab into him as the penis in his
mouth slowly hardens. The boy in his ass is clutching
him tightly, slamming into him in especially hard,
short staccato bursts he feels the boy's hips slam
into his ass and he wails around the cock in his mouth.
He hears laughter; tears rise in his eyes, he cannot
help it anymore, the pain is more than _anyone_ could
bear, and he sobs around the cock sliding against the
back of his throat, tears rolling down his cheeks small
shrill cries escape him each time the boy riding him
slams up into his rectum and picks his hips up off the
log for a moment supported only by the dick pressing
into his ass.
Strong muscular hands reach around to pull and scratch
at his nipples; the cock in his mouth is getting
harder; each time he tries to scream at the sharp
bursts of pain exploding inside his ass the cock in his
mouth slides down the back of his throat and he panics
twisting and struggling against his bonds and the
strong hands that clutch at his body, an instinctive
response to having his air-passage blocked that he
cannot control.
At last the penis brutalizing his ass is removed; he
does not feel the streamers of semen that spray the
back of his t-shirt, he is only aware of the penis
sliding back and forth in his mouth.
"Twice in one night man!" the two boys watching seem
impressed with their friend's ability to get it up.
The cock is sliding at the back of his throat the shit
taste long forgotten, drooled out onto the ground. A
slimy salty wetness pulses at the back of his throat,
he gags and spits cum onto the ground at the feet of
the boy in front of him; semen splashes into his face
and he whimpers pathetically.
He feels a set of hands at his back and panics; afraid
one of the other boys is ready for another turn in his
ass. A face appears in front of him as the ropes
binding his hands and feet are removed. Hands clutch
at his exposed buttocks, squeeze his genitals.
The face in front of him speaks softly, menacingly.
Rod!
"If you tell anybody about this you won't live long
enough to testify."
He hears a voice whisper near his left ear, he can feel
the warm breath on the side of his face.
"Besides, why would you tell anyone you were a faggot
and fucked a bunch of older guys from the senior
group?"
He feels his buttocks squeezed and pulled, slapped and
tickled. Something large, hard and smooth, is pressed
up into his ass.
"see you tomorrow night, _sweetie_"
He lies, crying and exhausted, still bent over the log,
their semen drips from his tortured asshole as he
listens to their laughter receding back towards the
camp, feeling the object they've shoved inside him
filling his rectum.
Slowly, untwisting his cramped arms, moving to push
himself up onto his feet. Collapsing to his knees as
he realizes what has happened to him. Raped. Fucked.
Used, like a _girl_. Like a whore. A FAGGOT. He _is_
a faggot. That's why they've chosen him instead of of
of...of Randy, they could've fucked Randy but they
chose him because he's a wimp, a sissy, a FAGGOT.
He lays for an eternity, curled fetally on the pine
carpet, feeling the thing in his ass, listening to the
crickets, the quiet night sounds. When he figures it
is only a few hours before dawn, he rolls to a
squatting position and painfully works the muscles of
his rectum to expel the thing buried inside him. He
stares at it, a large smooth rock, a streak of shit
covering it. Picking it up, carefully, with his ruined
underwear, rubbing it clean he palms it.
He notices they've left behind the briefs they gagged
him with, they will do as clothing. He pulls them on;
three sizes too big he holds them up with one hand,
clutching his souvenir he creeps back to camp, slinks
into his bunk, crawls into his cot, hiding his cum-
streaked t-shirt inside his pillow-case.
Randy stirs as he enters.
"Hey Spaz"
He freezes in his cot.
"We all want blow jobs or we're gonna tell the whole
camp what you were doing."
The other two members of his bunk are leaning on their
elbows in their cots, staring at him. He freezes as
Randy approaches his cot and holds his dick in his
hand in front of his face.
"Well?"
He closes his eyes and opens his mouth as his bunk-
mates line up for their turn, giggling and pulling at
their small hard pricks.
***** not the end ****
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 9