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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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Otis: An Ode to Trailer Trash
by MickMack (mickmack999@yahoo.com.au)
***
Having a drink at the local town pub might be the last
thing handsome young teenage guys who have just broken
up with their girlfriends should do. (MM/M-teen, nc,
rp, oral, anal)
***
Author Note: This story is (c) Copyright 2007, by
MickMack. All World Wide Rights Reserved. The story
below is the completed tale of a totally fictional
event. Your feedback would be greatly appreciated. It
is gay erotica and is intended to be read by persons
who are 18 years of age or old and by persons that
enjoy gay erotica. The material covered in this part
and all other parts of this story are fictional. Any
similarities to persons living or dead are a
coincidence. Please send your comments to:
mickmack999@yahoo.com.au
***
Otis - An Ode to Trailer Trash
********
Prologue
********
A hushed silence suddenly fell over the forest as the
young naked teenager, his wrists handcuffed securely
behind his back, stumbled forward at a fast pace.
Desperately trying to avoid colliding into any of the
many large deciduous trees and shrubs surrounding him
in the pitch black of night, the 17 year old youth
strained to see if any obstacles lay directly ahead of
him in the unrelenting deep shadows that enveloped the
forest.
His naked body, crisscrossed and covered in a mass of
deep cutting gashes, scratches and painful grazes, a
result of the many low-hanging branches lashing him and
above ground plant roots tripping him as he'd crashed
headfirst through the forest.
His body screamed for him to stop or slow down and
rest, as he continued to push himself recklessly
forward.
His lungs heaving heavily, gasping for much needed
breathe, and with perspiration streaming down his lean
muscled body, Richard cast frantic frightened eyes
behind him as he moved ahead of the hazards before him.
Ignoring the pain rising up his legs from the soles of
his feet, which were now bleeding freely from having
trodden on hundreds of sharp stones, rocks and rotting
ground mulch, the near-hysterical teenager bore up
against the agony as he raced head long towards the
only light he could discern way ahead of him.
Shivering, the terrified naked youth finally found him
emerging at the side of a major highway that led in and
out of town.
And as he fell to his knees, and then slumped onto his
side sobbing hysterically, unable to move any further,
he watched through half slit tired eyes as a car
suddenly slowed down and stopped, and a surprised
elderly couple rushed over to him as he finally lost
consciousness.
************
Introduction
************
The fucking cunt! Who would have thought he'd go
straight to the local cops.
I couldn't believe it when both Dell and Matt came and
told me our best mate Otis had been arrested for
kidnapping and raping that filthy fucking low-life 17
year old faggot.
I mean, the charges were a load of crap.
Charges trumped up by the local retard cops. To cover
the fact they really had no leads in the mysterious
disappearances of over twenty of the town's most
popular local teenage kids.
Strong healthy young guys who'd gone missing over the
past 10 years.
What was even worse though, was when the cops cuffed
Otis's wrists behind his back as they led him to the
squad car.
With the curious gathered town's folk listening in
intently, the coppers began sneering at Otis, telling
him he was nothing but a worthless piece of 'trailer
trash' shit!
I mean what the fuck! That's no way to go talking about
Otis in front of all his buddies and mates.
As it is, two thirds of our town, population 4000, live
in trailers and caravans thank you very much!
Also, we're not all high almighty fandangle rich
assholes, wealthy as shit, able to afford to live in
two, maybe three bedroom fibro homes with a front and
back yard.
Anyway, me and my mates, we knew the truth!
Yeah, we knew, and I mean the whole truth!
Fact is, there ain't been any crimes done! No
kidnappings like the cops are putting about!
Yeah, admittedly Otis knew all those young bucks who
were supposed to have been kidnapped over the last 10
years, but he's no guiltier than the rest of some of
the other townsfolk men as to whom the culprits are.
You gotta know the full story before you can judge
whether anyone's guilty of breaking the law.
I mean, Dell, Matt and me, as well as maybe 120 other
of the townsfolk's men, well, in a way, we're all party
to what happened to them young whippersnappers
disappearing.
Yeah, I can tell you now, with a clear conscience, we
all had a hand in it and all!
But we never done nothing untoward nor criminal like
the coppers are a saying.
We only did what every one of them young faggot boys
wanted done to them when they come seeking us out.
Besides, they're all alive and kicking, and we know
exactly where they all are right up to this very day.
So you see, no crimes been committed and none of us,
including Otis should be singled out for doing
something that never happened.
Stupid fucking coppers anyway! Can't get anything damn
right in any case!
But I kind of do blame ourselves for the current
misfortunes which have descended upon us, how the
authorities are hounding poor Otis, and maybe the rest
of us soon.
I mean, with our best pal Otis gone and been locked up
by the cops, lord knows what's gonna happen if the
local judge, one of our best mates, don't let him off
and give them idiot coppers a proper bollocking.
Funny now as I think back, because I never thought that
faggot kid would have gotten away from Otis, he being
one righteous pissed off son-of-a-bitch if you went
ahead and angered him in any way.
Besides, we all knew that cunt of a kid had personally
come on to Otis, acting all whore-like and faggotty.
Just like all the other young ones.
Yeah, and we'd all known from the beginning where that
young faggot, who goes by the name of Richard, was when
he'd allegedly disappeared all them months ago.
Fact is, nearly all the men-folk in town knew he'd been
staying at Otis' trailer, 40 minutes up north, a
willing and eager invited guest.
Most importantly, Dell, Matt and me had been there when
Otis first spotted the queer faggot drinking all by his
lonesome that very first night in our local pub,
looking as miserable as shit.
We'd been there and witnessed how Otis had acted kind-
hearted towards that shit-head kid from the very
beginning.
How the young fucker Richard had come back to our
buddy's trailer late that night 6 months ago, more than
eager to join us smoke some of the best hydro-weed Otis
had grown in a long time.
And Otis, being the cool guy he is, well, he'd
generously allowed the kid to join us.
Anyway, that parts the truth of how it had all started.
If anyone's to blame, it was that young poofter!
The rest of it, what are the cops arresting Otis for,
well...
When Richard, a ruggedly handsome yet very youthful
looking high school student accepted that first rum and
coke Otis bought him, the fag tried to act all tough
and masculine, trying desperately to impress on us that
he knew how to handle himself and didn't take shit from
no-one in town.
Smiling hugely, and letting the faggot yap on talking
crap like a retarded goofball, Otis invited him to our
table, and like a good little faggot lap dog eager to
please his owner, he joined us as we went on to get as
drunk as skunks.
Of course, we all knew Richard was a faggot the first
time Otis pointed him out to us.
Don't get me wrong, I ain't got nothing against queers,
but like my friends and most of the men-folk in town,
we believed very strongly that they shouldn't go around
advertising they're faggots in the pubs me and my
buddies hang around.
Just like Dell had sneered good-naturedly, all you had
to do was take one look at the poof to know he liked
being fucked up the butt.
The way Richard casually wore those loose baggy jeans
hanging off his hips and trailing half way over his
arse-cheeks, showing off the white elastic band and
cotton fabric of his expensive CK jockey briefs.
It kind of gave the young homo away, if you know what I
mean?
Especially the way the lime yellow t-shirt he wore
clung too tightly to his wide muscled chest and small
firm waist.
Showing off the outline of Richard's large pointy
nipples and riding up a fraction too high as it
revealed his navel to everyone when he stood up tall.
If that ain't a walking advertisement that this young
punk was nothing more than a faggot slut and a whore,
well, I reckon nothing would.
That's the whole point really.
Matt noted straight away how this kid had really only
been in our pub cruising, looking for a straight guy to
seriously butt-fuck him, trying desperately to pick up
some real hetero men like us.
So, in a way, he got his perverted wish, when Otis
finally went over to the young whore and invited him to
join our table.
Yeah, we'd all seen how the fag had first ogled Otis
cautiously, before sussing out me and my buddies.
We'd seen how he'd looked Otis up and down first, in a
weird guarded frightened way, before swallowing his
fear and smiling sheepishly in that whorish queer boy
way of his before joining us.
Of course, as he started into his act about how much of
a real man he was, Richard also told us that he was
straight.
Nearly couldn't contain ourselves from bursting out in
hysterical laughter as he told us he'd just broken up
with his girlfriend, all but crying into his sixth
drink doubly rum as he spilled his guts up about how
devastated he was.
As far as I'm concerned, the cunt should have won an
Oscar for best original comedy, the way he carried on
about his imaginary ex-girl.
Even if it were true, which I say was all bullshit
anyway, my guess is she probably found out he was
really nothing more than a talented cock-sucking
faggot, and didn't want anything more to do with him.
Of course, when I'd whispered this into Otis's ear, and
he'd quietly told the others on the 'qt', we'd all
chuckled silently, knowingly, into our drinks for quite
a few moments as we cast our eyes over him.
But Otis is a really cool guy when you finally get to
know him. He felt a rising compassion for the fag. He
figured Richard was really only trying to pick us all
up, the lot of us.
That the story he'd spun us was just a subtle ruse to
see if we might be interested in butt-fucking his mouth
and boy-pussy.
Otis figured out we could maybe provide Richard with
the hardcore action he was desperately seeking, and
that all us could enjoy a bit of free lip and man-gina
action.
Then after we'd had our fun, we would do the faggot a
favour, what we knew he wanted done, and hand the young
high school student over to one of our many mates. Like
Jeb or big Jim-Bob, or even old man Langley.
Single men who lived east of town on isolated
properties in their large trailers.
Single men who had been alone for far too long and just
needed some loving company and someone to cook and
clean for them.
And afterwards they could, if they wished, pass the fag
on to one of our other mates who might appreciate the
cunt's faggot skills.
Anyway, once we'd all quietly agreed we should help the
poor wretched fag out, Otis sat forward, and acting as
pissed as a newt, looking as if he was off his face,
invited the faggot to come back to his place.
See what I mean! We're not criminals! We don't kidnap
no-one against their will!
We just provide a very important social service, not
only for the needy young faggots who cross our path,
but for the many men-folk in town who live sad, forlorn
lives all by their lonesome.
*********
Part One
*********
Well, as I was saying earlier, none of us ain't really
got nothing against fags.
Like Otis always said, fags were here for a very
important social purpose, and that was they should be
eagerly available at all times, whenever real straight
guys like us didn't have any real pussy around when we
needed to get our rocks off.
At the time Otis had said that, all those years ago
when he first said it, I admit I didn't quite
understand what he'd meant.
In fact, I thought he was actually just a closet queer,
and nearly ditched him as a friend once I'd found out
what he liked doing with all them fags.
But when he eventually showed Dell, Matt and me and
some of the other men-folk what he really meant, I
figured we all finally understood how fags really do
come in handy sometimes.
Especially when you're desperately horny, all boned up
and ready to unleash your explosive pent-up load into
anybody's sucking mouth.
Problem for Otis, Dell, Matt and me is most uppity
women we've met over the years just don't want to know
us.
Most of them look down their noses at us, tell us to
our faces that we're nothing but trailer trash, or
rejects from the local rubbish tip.
Or if those drunk enough do go out with us, they don't
like to go down on any of us.
Either alone or together, once we get them back to
Otis' place and then shuck off our clothes to stand
naked before them, they instantly start trembling in
fear and complaining about the size of our thick hard
dicks.
It can be really frustrating, because they don't want
to try sucking any of us off, always bitching about how
putrid and fetid our uncut, unwashed cocks smell.
And on top of that, none of them would let us stick our
cocks up their arseholes, complaining any one of us
would probably split them in two, damage them beyond
repair if we even tried.
Then to make matters worse, those who did let us fuck
them always complained bitterly if we became too rough
or heavy handed as we pumped and pounded their juicy
squelching twats.
So we'd always have to do it real slow so as not to rip
them wide open, which always left me feeling very
unsatisfied.
But as Otis told us many times, if we could pick up a
queer now and then, well... we could do just about
anything we wanted with them.
As Otis explained it, that's the only reason fags
really exist... to give straight guys like us the added
pleasures our womenfolk won't.
And Otis has always said, if you treat fags the proper
way, slap them around just a little bit at first, in
the ways they liked it done, they'll actually fall in
love with you for being assertive, for being a real
man.
Of course, a lot of queers might pretend they don't
like it at first. But once you've slapped them around a
little bit, made them do all the humiliating faggotty
perverted things they really enjoy doing and were born
to do, they always ended up begging real hard.
Wanting you to do it even harder and a whole lot more
rougher.
But you got to know how to treat them properly from the
beginning. That's the secret.
You got to know what you're doing and how to get them
all juiced up and ready to take your throbbing dick
just the way you like it.
You've got to know how to make them beg and squeal
properly if they really want straight rugged men like
us fucking them the way they like it done.
As it is, we've all been using faggots and closet
queers for some 10 odd years or more, usually in
between breaks from any womenfolk who'll have us, or
just when the horny moods grab us.
Also, it's a real mans' thing, and I know the young
faggots we've picked up over the years have always
loved it when we've used them in the right faggotty way
they like, and then given them to the many men-folk who
crave for a little bit of lustful attention and
company.
How do we know for sure?
Because they always end up so incredibly eager and
enthusiastic to pleasure us in the ways we want them to
do it, even happily thanking us as we hand them over to
any of the men-folk in town who might like their own
fuckable punk boys.
**********
Part Two
**********
Otis' dilapidated trailer caravan was actually a rather
large affair, in that it had two large bedroom sections
at each end of the trailer, both containing low to the
floor queen-sized beds.
Both bedrooms are curtained off with old linen bed
sheets, and the middle section of the trailer provides
for a small stand-up shower cubicle and toilet.
Also, a compact but well provisioned kitchen, a single
metal legged c-shaped dining table with six fixed
vinyl-covered plastic chairs, and what could be loosely
described as a lounge room capable of seating eight or
ten people comfortable filled in the rest of the
trailer.
Located next to a rapidly flowing 800 metre wide river
that swept down from Mt Pleasant, and then rushed
unchallenged through the city centre of Middleton 20km
to the south, Otis lived a simple Spartan life in
austere isolation when he wasn't in town with his
buddies, boozing and looking to get laid.
With the nearest farmstead and trailer/caravan camp
over 9km away, Otis enjoyed a level of peace and
tranquillity that the rest of us guys could only envy
and dream of.
He would always extend an invitation to us to come over
and stay as long as we wanted, and over the years we'd
all taken him up on his offer.
But mainly, he would open his trailer home to Dell,
Matt and me whenever we decided it was time to go out
trawling for women or faggots, and the remoteness of
the trailer ensured we would never be interrupted in
our endless pursuit to satisfy our natural male urges.
So it was, on the evening we left the pub and piled
into Matt's rusting, gas-guzzling mini-van, we
immediately headed the 40 minute drive north to Otis'
trailer home.
It was a rowdy raucous trip, full of manly camaraderie
as we tossed back 3 more six-packs of beer, and then
started on a bottle of cheap bitter malt whiskey.
By the time we arrived, we were all plastered to the
gills.
I remember swaying back and forth unsteadily, watching
with blurred vision and a stupid inebriated smile on my
face as Otis helped Richard, who was by now laughing
hysterically at something Dell had said, out of the
van, leading the fag staggering into the lounge section
of the trailer caravan.
For me, the night moved from being a raucous drunken
melee, into a more tranquil, laid back weed-toking
party that had everyone totally relaxed, mellowed out
and smiling stupidly and glassy-eyed as the never-
ending packed bong got passed around.
For me, the potent thickly-resined buds packed lightly
in the cone I puffed on, took me to an incredibly high
level of lustful horny anticipation.
And as I sat unmoving in my seat, uncomfortably trying
to adjust my rigid rock hard dick to a more comfy
position, I couldn't restrain myself from leering with
unrepressed yearning at the young faggot.
Richard too had sagged back where he sat, his knees
parted wide to reveal a nicely packaged bulge in his
jeans, laughing and giggling uncontrollably at a crude
joke Otis had just whispered in his ear.
Of course, whenever Otis packed the bong for the young
faggot, he'd also mix in a few grains of crushed up
Rohypnol and Mandrax.
As Otis always says, once the effects hit them and they
relax more, it drops all their inhibitions and they'd
then do what they were born to do.
Anyway, as the young fag relaxed more and more,
slumping back into the seat he was perched on, and bong
again made the rounds, I watched fascinated as curling
wafting smoke swirled thickly throughout the room,
filling the interior of Otis' cramped home.
To me, it lent a surreal comical and bizarre view of
Dell, Matt and even myself leaning forward one by one
as Otis finally stood up and made his long awaited
move.
“Ok, girl. Time we all give you what you really came
here for.” Otis had stated in a firm yet still friendly
voice, as he moved to stand in front of the very
stoned, still chuckling 17 year old high school
student.
***********
Part Three
***********
It's funny how quickly the fags we've picked up over
the years obey Otis orders when he finally makes his
move.
At first they just stare up smiling idiotically into
Otis' now seriously stern and menacing face, unaware of
what's about to happen.
Totally absorbed in and enjoying the powerful stone
they're flying high on, they're completely relaxed from
the hypnotic drugs they've also smoked into their
lungs, and waiting patiently for the punch-line for
this new joke they think Otis is playing on them.
But the bewildered looks on their boyish youthful
stoned grinning faces as Otis suddenly swings his left
hand back and then slaps them savagely across the face
is a sight to behold.
Their glazed over eyes finally registering the painful
stink of Otis' open palmed calloused hand connecting
smartly with a large ricocheting smacking sound always
makes my dick spasm uncontrollably every time.
And with their smiles now frozen in place, but no
longer laughing, you can actually see the subtle shift
in their over drugged relaxed body posture, as they
very slowly try to tense up and move from their slumped
seated position.
“Time we took all your clothes off now, faggot. See
what goods you got to horn us up. Yes indeed, time you
began acting like the queer girl you really are!”
Otis would follow up immediately, slapping the other
side of the faggot's face even harder and bracing
himself just in case the fag suddenly lashed out.
Of course this had never happened before, as they were
always too stoned and drunk to even move, let alone
react with that kind of speed.
Finally the smile drops altogether, a worried
expression raising their foreheads as they slowly cast
confused dazed glances around the small room, trying to
understand what is happening, and trying to comprehend
what Otis has just said to them.
By this time, my erect dick is leaking, throbbing
painfully in my pants, begging to be released.
On nearly every occasion, the faggots' faces will
eventually change from confusion to undisguised growing
horror.
A look that tells us that they know something is
terribly wrong as they finally notice how all the other
men, including myself, are all leaning forward, staring
back them in silent, lusting eagerness.
It has always been a part of the forceful role Otis
takes on to get things moving along quickly. Which is
mainly to get these faggots naked and completely
submissive for us to use?
As Otis showed us many years ago, it's also what these
fags want too. To be dominated by us. So it's in their
best interest that we hurry them up, so they can
quickly enjoy our rough attentions and manliness.
After Otis has slapped them a few more times, making
sure the fags' unable to move or resist what his about
to do, he'll eventually steps back, breathing heavily
and shaking with excitement as he glowers down at the
now cringing, horrified faggots.
“Now let's get them clothes off you, faggot!”
Otis is always quick and rarely takes his time when it
comes to stripping them off.
He'll literally rip off their shirts, singlets or t-
shirts with one almighty tug, then roughly drag their
jeans, shorts and underwear off their unmoving hips,
slide them down their legs and fling them off their
feet.
Otis will then stand up smiling, stepping back to ogle
and eye the naked smooth firm bodies as they lay
totally exposed before him.
Maybe 3 minutes all up have past since Otis has
approached them and stripped them naked.
The horrified look on the terrified fags is priceless
as they stare through half slitted drugged eyes down at
their own naked bodies before slowly looking back up at
Otis towering over them.
**********
Part Four
**********
Richard was no different than any of the other queers
we'd met.
Like them, Richard just sat there stunned into silence,
unable to move, staring down at his nicely muscled
smooth naked body.
And like all the others, he didn't suddenly start
screaming, he didn't start begging or pleading for his
life, and he didn't try to move and fight back.
He was too drugged to do anything other than just lie
there immobile and mumble inaudible incoherent noises.
The shock of seeing himself naked in front of three
grown lusting men had left him completely dazed and
incapable of moving, unable to comprehend the true
horrifying situation he now found himself in.
Otis, instantly recognising the signs that Richard was
slipping into deep shock and would soon lose
consciousness as the drugs took control of his
scattered mind.
Instantly he slapped the young high school student
across his face again, breaking the trance-like spell
the 17 year old youth was falling into.
This time, the savage back-handed blow across the
teenage student's face, knocked Richard's head back
brutally and sideways into the seat he was perched on.
“That's it! You got 5 seconds to get on your knees.
Can't move? Well, let me help you then! And don't you
go dropping off to sleep, faggot... You got some
serious cock sucking ahead of you from now on!” Otis
said cruelly, maliciously as he reached forward and
took a clumped fistful of the young boy's blond hair
and dragged him onto his unsteady knees.
Richard, now on his knees, was held in place by his
hair.
Unable to make his body move, his mouth gaping open in
stunned silence as he watched Otis glaring down into
his face, then quailed in fear as he watched Otis open
his dirt-grime stained denim jeans and lower them past
his knees along with his unwashed piss-stained
underwear.
Otis immediately struck the dazed drugged boy another
savage open palmed blow across the faggot's face, a
stinging slap that rocked the youth's head sideways to
the left this time.
Then Otis repeated it the other way, making sure that
the young fag wouldn't lose consciousness.
“You will do everything we say, and if you don't, if
you struggle or fight, if you so much as disobey any of
us, I'll skin you alive and then castrate you. Do you
understand girl?” Otis said in a low voice filled with
deadly menace as he again savagely slapped the boy's
face.
Richard just knelt there, staring up into Otis'
unshaven face, too drugged up to move and too terrified
to try and fight back against what was happening to
him.
He neither cried nor pleaded with Otis to stop slapping
him.
He just knelt there unmoving, accepting the repeated
bitch slaps Otis delivered over and over again to his
reddening face as his head rocked back and forth.
“Do you understand me, girl?” Otis roared loudly,
excitedly, as he repeatedly slapped the boy's reddening
face.
Richard just gurgled and moaned softly, staring blankly
up into Otis' face.
“When you can move and talk, when the drugs have worn
off, you'll call me and my friends SIR from now on! And
you'll always respond loud and clear when you're spoken
to, girl!” Otis stated gruffly, cruelly, as he again
slapped Richard viciously across his face in both
directions.
*********
Part Five
*********
There's not much to do but watch, or play cards, once
Otis starts treating the faggots the way they like to
be used.
And when you watch Otis slacking his lust, you can't
but not be impressed how he makes the fags' fall in
love with him, as they obey him completely, and
pleasure Otis in their special queer ways.
Which is pretty amazing really, especially if you've
met Otis and know what he looks like.
Otis is 52 years of age, stands tall at 6' 4”, and is
totally bald, with an unshaven, leathery pock-marked
and cruel looking face when he snarls.
At times, like a chameleon, he can appear to be gentle
and kind, but when angry, or insanely horny, he glares
through black malevolent intense squinty eyes, eyes
that let you know to stay away from him if you have any
sense at all.
He has a massively large chest and stomach, although no
fat can be seen at all. His entire body is covered all
over by a thick coating of black course matted hair.
Huge hairy rope-knotted arms hang heavily by his solid
thick torso, with large calloused knuckled hands that
are always tightened into clenching and unclenching
fists.
Otis also has a large veined 7½ inch long, 2½ inch
thick uncircumcised penis with a long length of
foreskin he loves the fags to stick their tongues into.
With thick dense black pubic hair covering the whole of
his groin right up to his large belly button, as well
as huge hairy low swinging walnut sized testicles, Otis
loves to proudly display his cock to anyone, male or
female, who will take the risk and look.
So watching him now as the young drugged high school
student sucks loudly on the full length of Otis'
throbbing erect penis, always makes me horny as hell,
eager to enjoy the fag's lips slide over my ample 6½
inch rigid cock.
Regardless, I'm kind of used to having to hang on,
waiting patiently until Otis has pumped his pent-up,
gluggy load down the faggot's throat before Dell, Matt,
or myself get to enjoy those succulent cock sucking
lips and tight hot throat.
After Otis has broken the fag in, I'll usually let
either Dell or Matt, or even both of them go before me,
because by the time it comes round to my turn, the
faggot's had enough cock sucking practise to give me a
really enjoyable intense blow job.
And to be honest, it doesn't really take that long for
all of us to blast our spunk the first time round.
All of us are usually so horned up and totally
impatient to spill our spooge into the drugged fag's
mouth, that just a few sucks and the feel of his tight
quivering moist lips circling and sliding up and down
our throbbing stiff rods will be enough to have us
spurting our loads within seconds of Otis dragging the
fag to kneel between our outstretched legs.
This time though, Otis was taking his time, teaching
the dazed drugged faggot the best ways to lick, kiss
and suck his fat erect cock and large hairy balls.
Also, he's stopped slapping the fag across his face.
Otis just stands there, his thick hips thrust forward,
his cock lodged all the way into the young kid's
slurping mouth, glaring down and making the sure that
the fag doesn't fall asleep on his knees while blowing
him.
Me, I just wanted Otis to get on with it, ejaculate in
the fag's mouth then make the kid swallow his load as
quickly as possible.
But Otis just ignored us completely, taking his time as
he watched and directed the faggot.
Sometimes we'd look up as Otis started slapping Richard
savagely around his blond head again, especially if the
fag wasn't doing it properly, or whenever Richard's
pearly white teeth accidentally grazed or scrapped the
sensitive skin of Otis' thick cock shaft.
I knew I shouldn't have been impatient, that it
shouldn't have pissed me off, but I was beginning to
worry I'd prematurely shoot my ball-snot into the
bulging tented pouch of my painfully tight unwashed
undies before it came around to being my turn.
At first we all watched spell-bound as Otis stood
there, legs wide apart, gripping the kneeling faggot's
blond hair in both fists to keep him steady as he slid
his rampant leaking cock down the drugged kid's throat.
Otis grunted at us, chuckling as he let us know it
really wasn't necessary to continually slap the fag's
face all the time.
He informed us in a loud boastful gruff voice how
Richard in fact had told him earlier in the evening how
he loved being roughed up as he was made to suck real
men off.
Just like all the rest of them young queers we've had
over the years.
I got to admit I couldn't help but question Otis on
that score, because the look on the drugged faggot's
face was anything but happy as he was made to deeply
fellate Otis.
But Otis' logic made sense when he once again told us
this was just the ways of the queers, and if the faggot
didn't want to do it, he'd have fought back like a real
man, exactly like Dell, Matt or myself would have, if a
homo tried to make any of us do something as sick as
what Richard was now doing to Otis.
It didn't matter if he was drugged or drunk. If he
didn't want to do it, be the fag he really was, then he
would have, and could have at least have made some fuss
before Otis had shoved his dick into his cock sucking
mouth.
And after Otis had slid his prick between the fag's
tight lips, we all knew he was right all along as the
fag started worshiping Otis' very thick throbbing cock
with his lips, tongue and mouth.
Of course, with the amount of alcohol and drugs in the
fag's blood, the naked youth actually looked a bit
pathetic as he laboured in his cock sucking efforts,
nearly falling unconscious at time as Otis slapped him
to make the kneeling teenager suck properly on his
pulsing leaking dick.
At first I could see that the fag was having real
trouble stretching his lips wide enough to accept the
thick width and length of Otis' throbbing organ all the
way into his mouth.
Again, Otis didn't hesitate on using the palm of his
hand on the young sports jocks face to get him to try
harder, and before long, after a few more vicious
slaps, the fag was going at it full steam, sucking cock
like he'd been born to it, all the way down to Otis'
very hairy balls.
Just like Otis said he would, and just like fags
naturally do once their coaxed out of being all shy and
coy at the beginning.
After a while, Otis began moaning and muttering happily
to himself, then just closed his eyes as he held onto
the fistfuls of Richard's blond hair in his large
calloused clenched hands.
Smiling happily, Otis enjoyed the sensual feel of the
drugged fag picking up the pace, setting up a fast head
bobbing rhythm as he sucked deeply on the massive cock.
Dell and Matt both broke the spell of the moment by
chuckling loudly and slapping each other on the back.
Then sitting back, Matt snatched up the forgotten pack
of cards on the coffee table and began dealing them out
to Dell and me.
“Gonna be a while before Otis is finished, so we may as
well settle back and enjoy a game or two, and maybe
toke back on a few more cones.”
********
Part Six
********
Five cones later, and after winning three hands of
poker but losing five in a row, I eventually slouched
back comfortably with my legs spread wide apart,
letting the fag lick and suck on my sweaty stinking
hairy ball sac.
He's moist wet tongue sent tantalising shivers through
my crotch, making me gasp in pleasure and quiver
ecstatically as he worked his way from the bottom of my
sperm filled nuts up along my spasming thickly veined
cock shaft.
I could tell the faggot was finally starting to sober
up as the alcohol and drugs wore off.
Staring up into my lust-filled eyes with a mixture of
despair and fear, he obediently and gently circled his
slurping lips to suck firmly on the thick helmet of my
large flanged dick-head.
Then sticking the tip of his tongue tenderly into my
leaking piss slit, he licked all the pre-cum oozing
out, swallowing it all as he continued to slurp away.
Like Otis, Dell and Matt before me, I also closed my
eyes as I basked in the intense pleasures this fag was
lavishing on my throbbing cock.
Needless to say the other guys had broken him in
completely.
So by the time Matt pulled the fag over to me and made
him kneel on unsteady trembling knees between my parted
legs, his arms hanging limply at his sides.
Well, all I could do was squirm and wiggle about on my
hairy arse in absolute bliss as he used his newly
acquired cock sucking skills to tantalise and tease me.
It was absolutely awesome!
Like my buddies before me, I'd stop him now and then,
lift his sad yet dazed face off my stiff prick, gave
him a few head-jarring slaps, before I finally gripped
the back of his bobbing blond head by his hair in both
my clenched fists, and forced the full length of my
rampant cock past his thick tight lips, over his
lapping tickling tongue and then all the way down his
softly gagging, constricting throat.
Then fucking upwards into his young handsome face, I
let out a huge bellow as I jettisoned about 3 or 4
mighty spurts of molten spunk into his mouth, enjoying
the feel of his throat and lips squeezing every ounce
of my sperm out of my rampant rod.
Now I know why I like going last, I thought contentedly
as the fag drained the last of my juices out of my
balls.
It's when the faggots are at their best. Once Otis,
Dell and Matt have taught them how to suck a big cock
properly, and then when it's my turn, the queers use
their newly acquired skills to give me the ultimate
mind-blowing head-job.
By the time he'd swallowed all my spunk and cleaned my
unwashed filthy bushy groin at the base of my cock with
his tongue and slurping mouth, and then frog-marched
him hobbling on his knees back over to kneel next to
Otis, I was dead tired, exhausted.
Also, it was early morning by now, and I could see
faint wisps of natural light rays slowly creeping
through the closed dust-covered curtains hanging from
the trailer's window, indicating the sun was about to
rise.
Matt was already asleep, sitting opposite me, slouched
back with his chin on his chest, naked from the waist
down, his bony ankles touching each other and knees
spread wide apart, displaying his huge semi-stiff uncut
cock and hairy low hanging bull balls.
Dell was slowly dispatching another dope-filled cone
into his lungs, probably his last one for the evening.
His red veined eyes half slits, slowly closing against
his will, as his over stimulated drugged and drunken
mind began shutting down ready for sleep. Within
minutes, Dell would teeter over onto his side to join
Matt for a few hours of much needed slumber.
I too felt myself beginning to slip into automatic
sleep mode.
Through half opened eyes that were getting heavier and
heavier, I vaguely watched with complete indifference
as Otis, who was still wide awake and now completely
naked and leaning back in his own personal comforter
lounge chair, raised the half full can of beer he was
holding in his right hand to his lips, consuming most
of its contents in one long gulp.
In the palm of his left hand, Otis continued to cup and
squeeze the fag's rather large, lightly haired
testicles, chuckling at times when he pulled too hard
or squeezed to tightly, forcing a near-audible groan of
whimpered pain from the young high school student to
spread his knees wider apart as he struggled to stay
motionless and balanced upright.
Staring straight ahead, the fag's glazed over dazed
eyes becoming clearer as he sobered up, Richard was the
epitome of wretchedness and total misery, all wrapped
up into one hilarious despairing package.
It still amazes me, even appalls me at times, that
faggots actually like to be treated so roughly, just to
get their perverted, deviant rocks off.
As my sagging half-lidded sleep weighed eyes travelled
over the fag's rather handsome youthful face, at his
tear-filled blue eyes, at his cute button topped nose,
and at his thick but pert cock sucking lips, and as I
watched him quiver and shake in his nakedness, I again
realised Otis had been right.
In fact, from the very beginning, Otis had always been
right.
The faggot, even after being made to suck us off, still
knelt there next to Otis silently, uncomplaining,
sporting a stiff erect teen cock, his face reflecting a
dazed, stunned expression.
From time to time, Otis would reach up and roughly
stroke and jerk the fag's erection when he wasn't
fondling with the fag's plump dangling nuts.
Earlier in the evening, once Otis had stopped slapping
the teenager across his face, he again tried to prove
his point to Dell, Matt and me, that all faggots liked
the sort of rough treatment we meted out to them.
Otis had laughed hideously when he'd reached between
the kneeling fag's parted inner thighs, painfully
gripped Richard's flaccid penis, and as he stroked its
5” length and tugged on and twisted the youth's silky
soft elastic length of foreskin, he ordered the young
high school student to get a hard-on.
Again Otis had chuckled with derision as the fag, with
a pitifully desperate and despairing look staring out
of his dazed blue eyes, looked ahead blankly and
concentrated as hard as he could for his limp penis to
respond to the rough ministrations of Otis' calloused
fisting squeezing hand.
After long seconds, the fag's dick rose to its full
length, his large plum-shaped cock-head poking through
his retracting foreskin, expanding widely and purplish
at the end of Richard's now 6” fully erect penis.
“Told ya! If he wasn't a fucking faggot fruit, there's
no way his dick would get hard! No fucking way at all!”
Otis had announced grandly as he continued to jerk the
fag, watching intently as pre-cum oozed out and
dribbled onto Otis' fisted hand.
Of course, Otis had proved his point much earlier in
the evening, but now my tired eyes were nearly closed.
And as I felt myself finally nodding off and slowly
falling over onto my side, my mind and body succumbing
to the sweet embrace of much needed sleep, I watched as
Otis, grabbing the fag's jutting hard-on to pull
himself up into a standing position, quickly bitch slap
the teenager, pull him up onto his unsteady legs and
then push and manoeuvre the naked high school student
towards the bedroom section at the far west end of the
trailer caravan.
***********
Part Seven
***********
It was a deep fitful sleep I fell into, punctuated by a
number of disorienting times where I woke up confused
about where I was, waking to disturbing sounds that
interrupted whatever dreams I was having.
Each time I'd raise my head, check my surroundings,
realise the unsettling noises were coming from the west
end bedroom, before letting myself sink back into my
pleasant dream-filled sleep state.
At one time, half waking with an urgent need to empty
my bladder, I quickly made my way to the small cubicle
that served as shower and toilet.
As I flushed the loo, and closed the Venetian slide
door behind me, yawning widely and readying myself to
crash out again, my curiosity pricked by the rise and
fall of gruff muffled voices, of sudden loud grunting
and gurgling, of low stifled moans and miserable
uttered squeals of agony, followed by soft
uncontrollable weeping.
Now, I never thought of myself a voyeur in any sense of
the word, but as I silently pulled back the linen sheet
used to partition off the west end bedroom of the
trailer from the rest of the mobile dwelling, I found
myself fascinated as I watched the rough rutting faggot
action taking place on the large bed before me.
It was, in a strange sick sort of way, kind of erotic,
as Otis, unaware that I was watching, roughly and
cruelly fucked the young fag in a brutal, savage
missionary position.
I mean, there was Richard, his wrists still securely
handcuffed behind him as he lay on his back with his
long legs pulled wide apart and pinned down way up past
his head.
In this position, the young fag's firm white buttocks
had been forced high up into the air off the mattress,
his arse cheeks spread wide.
His knees were pushed down on top of his shoulder
joints, as both his ankles had been stretched about 4
feet from each other, tied with rope to metal hoops
bolted at opposite ends of the bed's long wooden
headrest.
And then there was Otis, completely naked, lying
sprawled on top of the fag, thrusting and burying his
thick erect cock balls deep with each pounding thrust,
in and out of Richard's arsehole.
Otis, as he laid face down staring maliciously and with
utter contempt into the faggot's grimacing pain-
streaked face, rested the huge girth and weight of his
large hairy torso on the fag's widely spread inner
thighs and chest.
Hugging the smaller teenager's scrunched up body
tightly to him as he maintained a steady pounding
rhythm, Otis raised and dropped his solid hips up and
down, in a manic fucking tempo that loudly rattled and
shook the large bed back and forth against the long
wooden headrest.
Richard, his mouth firmly gagged with an old pair of
Otis' month's old unwashed socks, stared up in agony
and fear as Otis fucked him, tears flowing down his
cheeks as he endured the massively thick cock plunging
in and out of him, stretching his anus beyond agonising
endurance, stabbing deep into him as Otis sweated,
grunted and puffed away on top of him.
Whimpering, at times trying to scream and plead through
his gag, all the horrified fag could do was lay there,
probably praying to his god that Otis would blessedly
finish soon.
And Otis, lost in the heady ether of his fuck-lust,
pumped and pounded away, indifferent to the fag's
agony, or to being aware to the fact I was watching.
It seemed to go on for ages as Otis' clenching and
unclenching arse cheeks bobbing up and down furiously
as he pounded away.
When the fag started to hysterically cry and sob in
loud muffled gagged tones as sudden waves of extreme
pain and agony swept throughout his tortured bent over
body, Otis would instantly lower his sweating chest
down onto the tormented high school student, and start
kissing him long and hard, whispering harshly that the
fag better shut the fuck up and start squeezing his
loosening boy-pussy tightly around the full thickness
of his plunging throbbing cock.
Many times, as Otis long-dicked the young fag, he'd
slow down so he could prolong his pleasures before
cumming, sometimes viciously slapping the pinned down
young queer around his face.
“You know you love it faggot, now buck ya boy-pussy up
and down my cock, fag. Don't make me have to do all the
work!” Otis threatened as he again slammed his
viciously pounding cock in and out of the pain-riddled
fag's arsehole.
“Besides fag, once I've finished with you, at least
you'll know how to pleasure my buddies properly. Just
like you always wanted to, you faggot whore!” Otis
sneered as he fucked away brutally.
In a daze, feeling hornier than I'd ever felt before, I
silently let the sheet drop behind me as I made my way
back to the lounge room.
**********
Part Eight
**********
I woke up a few hours later feeling rested up, and as I
do every morning of the week when I wake up, I sucked
down a few cones to take away the small fuzzy hangover
I always feel after a hard night of drinking.
Puffing away, I absently watched as Matt thrust his
stiff organ in and out of Richard's arsehole.
On his hands and knees, the young fag grunted and
gasped in pain every time Matt shoved his rigid manhood
up into his stretched swollen anus.
“Dell already fucked the fag stupid when he was tied up
on my bed this morning. Took his fucking time too!”
Otis chuckled absently as he watched me pull on a cone
and then wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
I moved my eyes back over to where Matt was moaning and
groaning with ecstatic pleasure, and watched as the
older man, with his cock still lodged all the way up
the fag's pussy, bent over the kneeling high school
student's back, wrapped his large powerful arms around
the fag's chest, hugged him close to him as he rapidly
speared the teenager up his arsehole.
Within seconds, Matt finally rammed his throbbing dick
all the way up the boy's tortured hole, ejaculating
powerfully as he crushed the young faggot to him.
Just watching had made me hard, and I thrilled at the
opportunity to stuff my large pulsing shaft up the
fag's already lubricated pussy.
But first I had to take a leak.
Otis, already on his third beer since getting up this
morning, gestured for me to sit back down as I went to
get up and make my way to the toilet.
“Faggot can take care of that for you, Rod! Just sit
back and let him do what he does best!” Otis smiled at
me as he ordered the young fag to hurry up and kneel
between my outstretched legs.
Yeah, it was good! The kid's moist lips wrapped around
my semi-hard cock, gulping down the torrential flood of
steaming acrid urine that gushed out of my bladder.
Contented, I watched as he struggled to swallow it all,
as he forced himself not to gag or throw up from the
pungent toxic taste flowing over his taste buds.
Most importantly, he didn't let a single drop go
astray.
And once I'd finished with pissing in his mouth, the
young fag went straight on to give me a lovely morning
blow job.
Of course, I had to stop him just before he'd brought
me close to orgasming, as I wanted to sample his
already stretched and loose boy-pussy.
With a sad despondent look on his face, his head
hanging in shame, the fag silently obeyed me when I
indicated for him to go get on Otis' bed and lay on his
back for me.
I took my time with him then, as I quickly placed
Richard's long muscled legs over my large shoulders,
slid my dick up his slippery cum-lubed pussy with one
hard shove, and commenced fucking the submissive fag as
hard as I could.
To my surprise, his arse muscles began squeezing
tightly around my thrusting cock shaft, sending intense
shivers racing through my body as I banged away.
And as I picked up the pace, fucking the young fag as
savagely as I could without pushing myself over the
edge, he looked up into my leering unshaven face, his
blue eyes full of tears and began thanking me for
fucking him like a real man.
The compliment drove me on, increased my ardour for him
and I reflected on what Otis had always told us so many
times!
This young high school student was nothing more than a
complete faggot, a homo who loved to be fucked hard up
his anus.
Here he was thanking me for fucking him. In fact, every
time I shoved my dick all the way up his arsehole, he'd
thank me, gasping and grunting his words of thanks as
each thrust of my cock all the way up his pussy punched
the air out of his lungs and young lean body.
It wasn't long before I arched my back, pounded my hips
down as hard as I could and ejaculated my man-seed deep
inside his bowels.
*********
Part Nine
*********
Three days later, as the young fag fussed around in the
trailer's kitchen making Otis, Dell, Matt and me some
ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch, Otis asked us
casually who we should give Richard to, once we'd
finally grown tired of using him.
As a joke, I said we should just give him to Jason
Tebbits, the 49 year old loner out on Highway 6, who'd
lived there by himself in a small rusting bean-shaped
caravan for the last 30 years.
When I mentioned it, everyone roared with laughter, as
we all knew there was no way the young fag would be
alive after staying one week with that psychopathic sex
maniac.
Jeremy, the last sixteen year old fag we'd given to him
over 3 years ago, he'd nearly beaten to death as he was
brutally fucking him.
Jason reckoned he didn't know he was doing it until
he'd shot his load up the boy's over used stretched
pussy and realised the fag was unconscious, severely
bashed and in a deep coma.
Immediately, we'd had to get Doc Wilson out there, and
once he'd taken a cursory look at the youth, he ordered
us to get the fag over to his private surgery as
quickly as possible.
Well, Doc Wilson looked after that young fag, caring
for him and keeping him alive until one day months
later, the teenager woke up.
Needless to say the young fag ended up staying with the
Doc, at first locked away in a small iron-wrought cage
Otis had built and installed in the Doc's basement.
For six months Jeremy was kept caged, until finally he
was released and now serves Doc Wilson with all the
faggotty loving care he can.
Matt reckoned we should give him to Randy Jacobs and
his two adult sons, who lived in a large trailer home
out at Wannabella Caravan Park, 120km east of town.
To me, that wasn't a bad idea.
Randy, now in his late 60s, and his three sons, all in
there late 30's and early 40's, were still moaning the
loss of Randy's wife and the boy's mother's four years
earlier.
It would be good if they had some domestic help living
with them, someone who would cook their meals, keep the
trailer clean and suck their cocks and bend over for a
hard fucking whenever they got horny.
Dell's idea was we should give Richard to our local
state senator.
Senator George Jamieson, who represented the
constituents of our great southern state in the
national senate, was also known as a cruel and sadistic
deviant, who took great pleasure in torturing young
teenage boys when he could get his hands on them.
Dell reckoned it was important that we kept on the good
side of that perverted man, as we'd never know when
he'd come in handy.
Never were truer words spoken when Dell put that idea
to us. In hindsight, we should have offered the Senator
a faggot when Otis and the men-folk in town came up
with the concept of giving these randy little faggots
to single lonely men who'd really appreciate their
loving company.
But it was Otis who finally spoke up and said maybe we
should give the young fag to old man Langley.
Old man Langley was 74 this year. Living by himself at
the Cherry Blossom Caravan Resort, 70km west of town,
he had been alone for over 50 years, and Otis said he
felt a deep sadness whenever he thought how lonely that
old man must be.
We were silent for a while, realising just how kind-
hearted Otis was. Also, it was pretty much decided that
Richard would be handed over to the old man.
Of course, the young fag would stay with Otis for the
next few months, and once Otis thought Richard was
truly being the young faggot that we all knew he was,
and once he'd been trained up enough to look after the
old man's needs, then Otis would then take him over to
old man Langley's.
*********
Part Ten
*********
So it was, that for that first week, Otis, Dell, Matt
and I fucked that young fag whenever the urge took us,
and in as many imaginative positions we could think of.
And as we expected, while we repeatedly gang-banged him
or took him off for more private intimate sessions, he
didn't once try to get away, he didn't once scream or
cry, and he didn't once deny he was nothing but a queer
faggot.
All he did was hang his head in shame and humiliation,
silently crying and sobbing to himself every time he
cleaned Otis' trailer home, cooked our meals and sucked
our dicks when we wanted him to.
In fact, because he was such a docilely submissive
queer faggot, just like all the other young fags we'd
fucked over the years, we all decided to keep him very
busy, either on his knees or on his back with his legs
over our shoulders.
Anyway, eventually I headed back to town, dropping in
to see Bill Jenkins and his 18 year old faggot.
Bill's an old friend who was a little better off than
the rest of us, but he still lived in a trailer home
closer to town.
As I was sitting back in Bill's cosy trailer lounge
room, with his naked young fag kneeling between my legs
sucking firmly on my cock, my old mate and me talked
about times past as we both enjoyed a cool refreshing
beer.
Bill asked about the missing 17 year old teenager who'd
disappeared a week earlier, and smiling knowingly, I
told him not to worry, that Otis had a young faggot
staying with him who would be a gift for old man
Langley.
I had to admit his young fag was making me tremble
uncontrollably from the intense working over his mouth
and tongue gave my erect throbbing cock.
Before I knew it, I blasted my load down the faggot's
throat and watched as he lapped my dick clean.
“So how many is it now, Rod? How many fags have Otis
and you collected over the years?” Bill asked with
interest.
Actually, his question took me by surprise...
I hadn't really though about that, and as I did a few
quick calculations in my head, trying to remember how
many young queers had crossed our paths on a yearly
basis.
All the young faggots we'd placed in good homes with
lonely single men-folk from town, real straight men who
knew how to treat them in the best faggot ways that
these young queers loved to be treated.
And as a close estimated figure popped into my head, I
realised with amazement it had to be close to 70 or 80
young fags over a 10 year period.
Twenty of those were picked up from town, in pubs and
bars that Otis, Dell, Matt and me drank at, while the
rest were all hitch-hikers who were passing through.
***********
Part Eleven
***********
It was 6 months later when Dell and Matt came and told
me that Otis had been arrested.
The three of us were at first a bit panicked, but the
more we talked about it, the less worried we became.
I mean, the fact is, none of us had done anything
wrong!
But what I wanted to know was why was the young fag
still at Otis' place after all this time, and not with
old man Langley?
Also, how the fuck did the little shit get away from
Otis?
Matt told me that Otis had decided Richard wasn't ready
yet to stay with the old man, that he still needed a
lot more training to be the proper little faggot queer
he was.
Yeah! No shit! I mean, f4rom what I'd already learnt so
far, it don't take no brain surgeon to figure that one
out.
Then Dell told me how Otis had gone into town without
cuffing the young fag to the bed as he usually did.
Thought he'd give the kid a break and let him wander
about free in the trailer for the day.
By the time Otis got back, the kid had skedaddled, and
before he knew it, the coppers had roared up to Otis'
front door to arrest him.
Apparently the young fag had been found lying
unconscious and naked by the side of the main road
going into town, by a very surprised old couple who
nearly ran over him as they drove into town to watch a
late evening movie at the old gala cinema.
Instantly identified as the teenage youth, Richard
Cunningham, who'd disappear six months previously, he
was rushed to the local hospital where he was
immediately treated for malnutrition and severe
hyperthermia.
And as soon as the young fag woke, there were his
parents and four younger brothers, as well as 5 burly
police officers surrounding his hospital bed.
Dell and Matt must have seen the worry on my face, and
suddenly they both started laughing, telling me to
mellow out, that everything was okay.
“Judge Kennard is already on to it. Promised Dell he'd
have Otis released by tomorrow morning. No charges and
he'll drag the coppers over the coals!” Matt chuckled
as he watched me settle down and a large hideous smile
cross my face.
“Also, the judge wants to meet the young fag who's made
these terrible allegations against his brother Otis!”
Matt winked at me.
“Said if the teenager's as good looking as Dell
described him, he just might see if the kid would like
to stay with him for an extended visit. Of course, he
did add that it would be our job to pick up the faggot
once again, as well as making sure the young fag didn't
get away this time!” Matt finished, roaring with
laughter at the irony of it all.
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.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 49