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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!
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Jeff's Story
by Zachary Langston (iwonttellifyouwont@gmail.com)
***
College boy Jeff finds out that messing around with
another guy's girl can get you into deep trouble... the
kind that can leave you very sorry indeed. (MM, nc, rp,
v, mast, oral, anal)
***
Author Note: These events are fictional. Also, rape is
not okay. That said, read on.
***
Jeff didn't know how long he rode in the trunk of the
car. At least twenty minutes, maybe an hour? He worried
about exhaust fumes, and suffered nasty knocks whenever
the car hit a pothole. But he figured that this was a
picnic compared to whatever was going to happen.
Okay, he had been at the party with Cynthia. They'd
both had a few and smoked a little. And yeah, they'd
disappeared into the woods together for a while and
messed around. It was just a good time; who the hell
cared anyway? And like so many idiotic things that
happened in college, Jeff thought that both of them had
cleanly gotten away with it and could go on with their
lives like nothing had happened. Keith hadn't been
there—had to leave for the weekend, or something. And
quite frankly, the guy was a jackass who was probably
both too stupid and self-absorbed to suspect his
girlfriend of cheating on him. Somehow, though, it had
gotten out.
Jeff had been studying for finals in the library. He
left just after one-thirty. The pathways between it and
his dorm weren't especially well lit, but it was a
small campus and assaults were almost unheard of.
Besides, he was a guy, one who could take care of
himself. He gave it no thought whatsoever, not until
the five men stepped out of the trees.
Keith led them. He was a big redneck, in every sense of
the word. Stood just about 6'3", was all muscle and
beer gut, and actually had a Ford F-150 with a gun
rack. Jeff recognized two of the guys with him. Both
also football jocks: a buzzed blonde Aryan type named
Chad and a short guy with black hair and a goatee that
he knew only as Spark Plug, his nickname. He was about
5'6" and stockily built, hence the name. The other two
guys were vague shadows.
"Hey Jeff, man, gotta sec?" Keith said, obviously
feigning levity. When you approached a guy in shadow
bringing a gang of four, you weren't trying to be
funny. "I wanna talk to you about Cynthia. Just talk,
nothin funny. Swear." He held out his hands in an empty
gesture, swaying on his feet a bit as he did so. Keith
and all his cronies all gave the impression of being
slightly drunk, slightly high, or both. Not a pretty
situation.
Jeff licked his lips nervously. He'd never been in so
much as a shoving match, and there were five pissed off
jocks ready to rip his head off. No buildings close by,
no one in sight. If he screamed he could probably be
heard...but what if, by some slim chance, talk was
really all Keith wanted? "Okay," he said shakily. "What
about Cynthia?"
Keith's eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, looking
down at Jeff. "I just wanna know one thing. Did you
touch her?" His breath stank of beer and pot.
"Keith, we..." Jeff began. His first instinct had been
to tell the truth—in a small school, he'd find out
somehow—but something in Keith's eyes said that to tell
him anything that he didn't want to hear could be
fatal.
"DID YOU TOUCH HER?" Keith screamed in his face,
spittle flying from his lips. There was no question
anymore. At least for the time being, Keith Steuben was
not a sane man. His pupils were dilated (what all was
he on!?) and an angry vein pulsed on his forehead.
Jeff's instincts cut in and he bolted. He might have
gotten ten feet before he was quite properly tackled by
two of the guys, knocking the wind out of him and
bruising his ribs against the brick sidewalk. They
turned him over onto his side and Kurt scowled down at
him. "Not the answer I wanted," he said, and aimed a
full on kick into Jeff's stomach. What little breath
he'd been gasped back in exploded out again; he tried
to cry out and couldn't. He retched miserably. Suddenly
arms hoisted him up, and half dazed he was dragged
forcibly through the thirty or so feet between the path
and the parking area.
They stopped beside an older BMW 7 series, one of the
big ones. Apparently it belonged to one of the
strangers, a husky guy dressed like a wannabe hip hop
star—Fubu and a backwards cap, all five sizes too big.
He opened the trunk lid and took out a roll of duct
tape and a Swiss army knife, cutting off a six inch
strip. Jeff opened his mouth to scream but Chad hit
him. Just an open handed blow on the side of his head,
but the hand was like a bear's paw and the impact made
him see stars. Then the tape was on his mouth and his
arms were wrenched behind his back. There was a zipping
sound and his wrists were bound tightly together. A
cable tie—what some police forces use instead of
handcuffs. His ankles were bound then, and struggling
he was smashed into the trunk.
Mile after mile of darkness, pain, hearing and feeling
the bass thump of hip hop through the rear of the
space. Tears coursed down Jeff's face. They were going
to kill him, he knew. Kill another human being just for
making out with someone else's girl and letting her
give him a blowjob. Kurt was out of his mind with fury,
and would probably castrate him with the Swiss army
knife and let him bleed to death.
The road became bumpier. The BMW's suspension was
almost certainly smooth, but this was bad enough that
the guys' heads were probably hitting the ceiling in
there, he thought. Where were they going? The car
slowed, stopped, shut off. The trunk release popped and
the lid opened.
Jeff was hauled out onto a narrow lane in deep woods.
As Kurt and the other stranger—this one a blonde,
barrel-chested guy of average height chugging a forty—
held him still while Fubu guy leaned back into the car.
He hoisted out a big Coleman cooler and several Mag
Lites, which he tossed cleanly to the others. It was a
full moon, making the blackness of the forest seem even
more pronounced as they walked him into it. Flashlights
came on and prodded the night ahead.
"Jeffrey my friend," Keith slurred, "I'm not a bad guy.
But one thing I won't put up with is fucking with my
girlfriend. And we both know that's what you did,
didn't you? Touched her with your skuzzy little hands,
got your nastiness all over her. Didn't you?"
Jeff, still gagged, couldn't have answered if he'd
wanted to. Almost immediately a clearing of about
fifteen feet opened up, open space around a big moss
covered rock. They sat him on it. Keith relinquished
his hold to Spark Plug and sat down facing him. Next to
him was the cooler. Opening it he took out a lantern
and switched it on. Two fluorescent tubes flashed into
life, their harsh light turning a small circle of the
forest into an operating theater. He set it down and
reached in again. This time he took out a gun.
It was a big handgun, a .45 probably. Keith aimed it
directly at Jeff's face. Looking steadily at him, he
said, "My buddies are gonna take off the cords and the
tape, and you're going to sit there like a good little
boy and let 'em. Otherwise I'll turn your face into
Hamburger Helper. If you think I might not, go ahead
and test me."
Jeff was frightened beyond belief, and wet himself. The
guys laughed uproariously. "Woo hoo!" said Fubu. "Does
da big bad man's big old gun scare da poor liddle
baby?" Even Barrel Chest kept on grinning, and he
hadn't spoken or shown any emotion at all yet.
Keith curled his lip in distaste. "Go ahead, cut him
loose." Spark Plug snapped the knife open and the cable
ties fell off. Keith leaned forward and ripped the tape
off. Jeff yelped involuntarily and found the barrel of
the gun almost against his nose. "No, sir. None of
that. Don't want any uninvited guests dropping in on
our little party!"
Chad took a big bottle of Jack Daniels from the cooler,
opened it and took a swig. The boys began passing it
around. When it came to Fubu he said, "Hey shithead,
wanna sip?" He tilted the bottle toward his face but
spilled it on his already wet crotch instead. "Whoopsy
daisy!" he said.
"Cut that shit out, man!" Keith yelled. "Don't waste
it." Keith took the bottle and drank deeply. "Right-o,
Jeffery old man," he intoned in a faux Brit accent.
"Here's how it goes down. You be a good little boy and
I don't use Mister Bad Bad Leroy Brown here on you. We
have ourselves a little chat and everybody goes home.
Maybe not happy, but with all parts attached. Kapeesh?"
Jeff nodded numbly, squirming uncomfortably at his
urine grew colder in the December night.
"First of all," Keith said. "What I said before. Did
you touch her?" Jeff nodded again, looking at the
ground. Keith sighed, clicking his tongue. "Not a very
gentlemanly way to act. Maybe you're not a gentleman
after all. Does this hurt?" Standing with lightning
speed Keith aimed his boot directly into Jeff's crotch.
Now Jeff did throw up, sliding to the ground and
convulsing in agony. "Well, guess you're a fella,
anyway. Course I wouldn't have minded so much if
Cynthia had been diddling another chick...not if she
asked me to help out anyway!" More raucous laughter.
"So I'm guessing you straight up fucked her, huh?"
Keith crooned, crouching and leaning into Jeff's face.
"Did you like her cunt, you prick? Nice little cunt,
isn't it? All tight and smooth." Jeff shook his head
vehemently. "No?" Keith asked incredulously. "You
saying my girlfriend isn't even good enough for you to
fuck, fagboy?"
Summoning all his strength and courage Jeff stood up
and leaned against the rock. "I didn't fuck her. She
sucked me off, that was it."
Chad stepped forward and punched him. Jeff felt his
nose start to bleed and his cheek swell immediately.
"You watch yourself," Chad hissed. "You don't talk
about girls like that, asshole. Show some respect."
Keith swigged Jack Daniels and steepled his fingers
under his chin in an exaggerated contemplative gesture.
"Hmm, 'sucked you off,' you say? Such language, such a
dirty mind. Would you say you're a dirty boy, Jeff?"
Jeff didn't answer. "Sure you are. You love to roll
around in filth, just like a fuckin pig." Aiming the
gun at him Keith glanced at the others. "Let's see how
much he loves dirt, boys. Get his clothes off."
Spark Plug came forward with the knife as Chad lunged
forward and pinned him to the rock with an arm against
his windpipe. The knife slashed open his t-shirt
inexpertly; the point sliced a thin line over his
stomach and made him whimper. Chad ripped the fabric
off to expose his shivering white torso as Spark Plug
yanked his jeans down to his ankles, then his boxers,
leaving him completely exposed.
Keith doubled over with laughter. "THAT?" he cried.
"You're tryin to tell me that Cynthia wanted to touch
that little worm?" Not that you'd be so much bigger in
this cold, Jeff thought. His penis was a respectable
six inches when hard, but it had shriveled to a stub in
fright, barely visible in his dark pubic hair.
Keith looked thoughtful, realizing something. "Jeffrey,
did she want to suck your hose? Or did you push her
into it? Did you fucking rape my girl, you sick fuck?"
he said, his voice escalating into a shout.
"No," Jeff moaned. Keith stared at him as if trying to
peer into his mind and see the truth. Fubu finished his
forty and smashed it against a tree, making everyone
jump. He giggled senselessly.
"Cut it out, Tyler!" Keith yelled.
Keith sat down again and leveled the gun at Jeff once
more. "On the ground, bitch," he growled. "Show me how
much you love being a dirty boy."
Slowly Jeff dropped to his knees, then to his stomach,
lying flat on the ground.
"No, no, dude!" Keith said. "Fuck that ground,
motherfucker! Show us how nasty you can be!"
Jeff wriggled in the dirt, getting pine needles on his
skin and in his wounds while the gang whooped and
hollered. Someone stepped forward and shoved his face
into the wet ground with his foot, another boot shoving
his ass down. After a minute or so of this they
relented. He continued to stay flat on the ground,
turning his head to watch them. They had all sat down
in a semicircle and were passing around a hash pipe
now.
In the choked voice of someone enjoying his weed, Keith
began speaking again. "See, here's the thing, buddy
boy. I happen to know that Cynthia doesn't like to suck
cock. You gotta give the bitch a little incentive, you
know. And for you, I'd say that jamming her head in
your crotch is about all that would do it."
Jeff almost laughed, hysterical laughter that bubbled
up and had to be forced down. He knew that wasn't true.
Cynthia, in a drunken stupor, had made a confession to
him. Not once in their four months of dating had Keith
ever had an erection. She didn't think he could. That
was part of why she had wanted to perform on Jeff, she
said, "just to see what it felt like." And, by her
account, she had enjoyed it immensely.
Keith stood. "Get up and don't lie there. It's rude. On
your knees." Jeff obeyed. "Tyler, c'mere." Warily Tyler
walked forward.
"So Jeffey-poo, you say she sucked your dick," Keith
said. Jeff nodded.
Keith gestured at Tyler with the gun. "Drop trou, bud."
Tyler stumbled back in shock. "What the fuck? Are you
outta your fuckin mind?"
Keith fired a shot into the air. It echoed back
ominously into Jeff's ringing ears. Something in the
woods rustled. "Maybe, buddy. Maybe. So if you don't
want me to go apeshit on your ass, get back here and
introduce your belt to your ankles."
Relectantly Tyler walked back. "You're a twisted fuck,
Keith. You know that?" He said as he unfastened his
jeans and dropped them. He wore Hilfiger boxer shorts
underneath, and hesitantly lowered them with his eyes
on the gun. "Twisted as hell." Tyler's own miniaturized
penis was exposed now. Except for a small pubic thatch,
his thighs were smooth as a boys.
Keith stood back. "Show me, Jeff. What she did to you.
Just like the good little boy you are." His gorge
threatening to rise again he inched toward Tyler,
neither of them daring to disobey. Slowly he bent
toward his crotch, parted his lips, and took his soft
prick into his mouth. It tasted awful; he would have
almost given his life just to spit it out. But not
ready to die just yet, Jeff bobbed his head back and
forth gently.
Keith looked around incredulously. "You guys seein
this? I'm startin to wonder if this faggot really got
in her pants after all! Look at 'im go! He loves that
shit!"
The situation had gotten even worse, although no one
but himself and Tyler really knew it. Despite
everything, Tyler's penis had begun to stiffen in his
mouth. He heard the guy's breathing getting heavier
above him, and he wasn't protesting any more. Spark
Plug seemed to sense it from where he stood. "Damn, Ty!
You an ass bandit too, bro?"
Tyler jerked backwards violently and stepped back,
jerking his underpants up, but not before the others
could see how excited he was and began laughing
hysterically. His penis was a small one—five inches at
best—but so hard that it visibly throbbed, flushed
violently red. "Fuck you, man!" he said, zipping up and
grabbing the bottle of Jack. Three of the men kept
laughing while Barrel Chest stood and scowled cagily.
"Y'know what?" Tyler yelled. "If thinking a suck job
feels good makes you a queer, every single one of you
is fuckin Richard Simmons." They laughed even harder.
Unnoticed, Tyler walked off into the woods alone.
For several minutes they just sat, drinking and
smoking, seemingly oblivious to Jeff's presence. They
seemed to bask in the torture they'd inflicted,
serenely and wistfully contemplating what they could
dish out next. Something in him, boiling over, finally
snapped. In a cold, dead voice, he spoke to them.
"You wouldn't know, would you Keith? What it feels
like. You can't even get it hard." Slowly heads
swiveled towards Jeff. "Yeah, I know about it. You eat
her out, you finger her clit. But you. Can't. Fuck
her."
Keith stood and lunged. He stood over him, fists
clenched. "YOU LIAR!" But he didn't strike, not yet.
Jeff started to laugh. "Yep, not one boner! She told me
all about how it just lies there and you stare down at
it sometimes, just like a big sad clown! The big man,
the football star, and can't get..."
Keith did attack then. He hauled Jeff to his feet
against the rock and slammed a fist into his face,
again and again. Even through the pain he kept trying
to laugh. Finally he shoved him to the ground and
stepped back to catch his breath. Curt and Spark Plug
stepped in, kicking him mercilessly. Jeff knew that he
would lose consciousness soon, willed himself to, to
just give up and die. Through a dim haze he heard
Barrel Chest cry out. "Enough, c'mon! Just leave him
and let's go!"
The two attackers backed off; all three stood looking
at him and panting. Keith caught his breath and said,
"Not yet. I got one more game." How could the night get
worse? Jeff wondered, looking up.
Keith lifted the hem of his Hollister t-shirt, exposing
a furry beer belly and an oversized belt buckle. He
pulled the shirt over his head and let it drop. The
man's hirsute pecs were like those of a pro wrestler,
his biceps thicker than Jeff's legs. His clumsy fingers
fumbled with the buckle and unbuttoned his Levi's. When
he let go of the jeans they fell immediately.
Keith was wearing plain white Hanes briefs...and they
were stretched tight over his erect penis. He thumbed
the waistband and dropped them. His manhood was
strictly average, but bigger than Tyler's and just as
hard. He had a massive set of balls; they shifted
eagerly. As Jeff watched in horror he could see a drop
of precum drip from the shaft's mushroom head. Keith
reached into the duffle bag and rummaged around, taking
out various pieces of camping gear and setting them on
the ground. At last he found a pocket sized tube of
Vaseline and looked at it thoughtfully.
"Bend him over the rock and hold him down," Keith
mumbled. Stunned into obedience, Chad and Spark Plug
did. Jeff hyperventilated as he heard a plastic snick
and wet squishing sounds. The shock wore off and he
began to scream. Chad struck his head and cut the
scream off. He heard Keith shuffle over and felt the
hard press of his cock against him. He barely had time
to wonder how much it would hurt before the entire
length was inside him, the hair on Keith's testicles
rubbing against his ass. The scream came again, and
this time no one paid attention. The football star
pumped in and out mechanically, grunting and snorting.
It took less than a minute before Keith pushed in
farther than he had yet and let out a choking gasp as
his orgasm hit. He pulled out of Jeff's ravaged anus,
leaving it filled with his seed. Please, Jeff thought,
please let them leave now!
Keith uttered two unthinkable words: "Who's next?" A
mumble behind him.
"I'm outta here, man. I'm gone," said Barrel Chest
heading away. Jeff heard the click of Keith cocking the
revolver.
"SIT!" he ordered angrily. A sigh. Then more jingling
as pants lowered. They were all caught up in it,
seduced by the raw violence of it. It was the ultimate
humiliation, barbaric proof of how far above him they
felt. They would go home to their women and never think
of touching another man again...not unless they had to
show him what being stronger, being superior, meant.
Jeff knew that Chad was next; Spark Plug had moved into
his field of vision. Dully Jeff noticed that the short,
muscular boy's track pants were strained with the
burden of an erection. Spark Plug snaked his tongue
over his lips and gazed down at it, stroking it through
the fabric as though three other boys weren't standing
there.
Then, looking blindly over the rock, Jeff became aware
of a fourth—was he really there, or in the madness of
the torture had he started to hallucinate? In the
shadows stood Tyler, naked. His white, nearly hairless
torso almost gave off light of its own. He ran one hand
over his sloping belly and used the other to violently
flog his penis. His hips thrust and ground, his legs
wide apart. His eyes were riveted on the others.
Another mumble. The squishing sound again, and another
pressure against him. Chad slid into him almost easily
now. He seemed to be about the same size as Keith, but
fucked more slowly. He seemed fueled by less anger and
primal urgency, almost more by a sense of social duty.
Dressed again, Keith stood just in Jeff's peripheral
vision, not pointing the gun but holding it readily and
looking on with a blank face. Chad seemed to forget
himself, sliding his hands over Jeff's back and
buttocks as though he were his girlfriend. He took a
little longer, but finished with a sigh after maybe
three minutes of thrusting.
"Sean?" Keith called. Almost jogging Spark Plug went
behind him and lowered the track pants with a rustle.
Chad whistled lowly. Sean didn't put on any lube; by
this point it wasn't really necessary. Jeff felt the
same pushing as before, but it soon gave way to the
most searing pain yet.
Sean rammed his penis into Jeff's reluctant asshole,
stretching it wider still. When he started thrusting it
was as though a fire extinguisher was being jerked in
and out of Jeff's body. He moved quickly, yanking his
phallus sometimes completely out before pushing back in
to the balls. Jeff thought, "How? How could anybody
take something this big into them without hurting? And
he's only five six..."
Tyler hadn't stopped abusing himself in the shadows.
Jeff saw him toss his head back, mouth agape, and
freeze. Even in the dim light he could see a thick,
ropy strand of jizum explode from Tyler and splatter on
the ground, followed by four, five more. When it was
over the ghostly figure crept back into the woods.
Almost ten minutes passed. Sean kept up a constant
rhythm, occasionally punctuating his lunges with a hard
slap to Jeff's ass. Keith, sounding almost sober and
much more subdued, said, "Okay, Sparkie. Let's go."
Sean pulled out of him suddenly and dashed to Jeff's
head, his monster hard on brushing his lips. Keith had
started throwing objects back into the cooler.
Fumbling in his jacket pocket Sean got out the knife
and slid it open, holding the blade to Jeff's neck and
using his left hand to grasp his hair and guide Jeff's
head toward his penis. The message was clear enough,
and Jeff opened his mouth. Growling Sean pushed forward
and shoved as much of his nine inch member into Jeff's
throat as he could. Jeff gagged, his jaw stretched wide
to accommodate the prick's thick shaft.
Breathily, Sean whispered, "Swallow, bitch," and came,
bellowing with the force of his climax. What felt like
a quart of the boy's warm semen gushed into Jeff's
mouth. It was almost sweet with the liquor he'd drunk.
He swallowed what he could, but some oozed out to
puddle on the rock. When Sean was spent he fell back
and rearranged his clothes. Half conscious Jeff fell
back himself, onto the ground facing the others again.
"TYLER!" Keith bawled. Almost comically the other boy
had appeared behind him just a moment before. "What?"
he asked crankily, rubbing his eyes as though he'd
dozed off. Jeff could see pine needles sticking out of
several spots in Tyler's clothes that could only have
gotten there if they'd been on the ground. The men
looked everywhere but at each other or at Jeff. They
looked as though they were coming back to themselves
after possessing demons had just left their bodies.
Even Chad seemed shaken by now. "Okay, okay. Let's just
go, all right? Let's get out of here."
Keith nodded slowly, staring at the ground. "If anyone
talks, any one of you, you'll wish you'd never lived.
Never. This ends here, understood? It ends here."
Vigorous nodding.
Keith stood over Jeff, curled into a fetal position on
the ground. His nose and chin were crusted with blood,
as was the skin around the cuts made by the knife and
glass. His right eye was swollen shut now, and he was
afraid that the wet feeling inside him was more than
the boys' semen and Vaseline.
"Touch Cynthia again, even speak to her, and I will
kill you both. If you breathe one word about us or any
of this, I'll track you down and see how many parts of
you I can cut off before you die. Don't forget that."
Hoisting the cooler and switching the Mag Lites back
on, Keith and the others headed back for the dirt
track, leaving Jeff to swim in pain and wonder how he'd
find his way home. Over the noises of the night, just
before the car doors shut and the BMW snarled away, he
heard their voices in drunken conversation and
laughter, just as though it was any other night in
their lives.
***
This is my first submission, and I'd greatly appreciate
some constructive feedback. Hope you enjoyed it!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 58