"I'm sorry it's so small", Norman's voice whispered in the dark of the night. Stood next to him facing the urinal, in the inky blackness of the toilet in the park, the unseen stranger reached out and groped for the offered penis. His fingers found Norman's trembling erection and grasped hold of it.

"I'm sorry it's so small" Norman repeated in a soft and submissive voice.

In truth, Norman's penis was no longer particularly small, neither was it particularly large, like everything else about Norman, it was quite normal, but then there was nothing quite normal about Norman either.

"I'm sorry it's so small" was Norman's opening line, his signature tune, his introductory speech. It had been true when as a boy he was introduced to sex and now it told the other man everything he needed to know about Norman. It told the other man that Norman was apologetic, that he was submissive, that he was humble and acquiescent, that he would kneel down and bend over. And that is what happened; the stranger in the dark kept hold of Norman's throbbing penis, and pulled on it as if it were a handle and led him from the toilet and into the thicket of bushes that grew all around the toilet. The night closed in around them, the street lights were a distant and feeble glow. The man placed his hands on Norman's shoulders and pressured him down to his knees. And Norman did what he did best, what he had been taught to do, he opened his mouth and sucked the groaning man's bloated prick into his mouth and sucked hungrily on the flesh, and before the man reached his climax, Norman lowered his trousers and pants and turned around and sank to his knees, and the man knelt behind Norman's pale buttocks and sank his prick into Norman, spearing him, skewering him, fucking him.

Norman was a quiet, unassuming boy. Norman by name, normal by nature. His passage from teenage to adulthood was unremarkable. Working behind the counter of the reference section of the town library, he was punctual, diligent, and went unnoticed by fellow staff and customers alike. Living alone in his single bedroomed apartment, looking after his own laundry and cooking, Norman drifted casually into a marriage of convenience with Beryl.

Beryl was one of the library's Saturday morning regulars. A single mother with a 4-year old son. Her thick, woollen cardigan concealed a pair of heavy breasts of which she was uncomfortably self-conscious. At school her well developed bosom made her very popular with the boys and an object of jealousy and spite from her less well-endowed classmates. But Beryl rejected all the boys' advances and ignored the taunts of the girls.

At a schoolfriend's 16^th birthday, Beryl was fed glasses of orange spiked with a cocktail of vodka and gin. Beryl passed out on the sofa, her skirt hitched up around her thighs, her blouse unbuttoned, exposing her ample breasts. Several of the boys decided to haul the slumbering Beryl up the stairs to let her "sleep it off" in one of the bedrooms. Some of the girls followed. By the time they had manhandled the unfortunate girl to the top of the stairs, her panties were down round her knees, and her blouse was off her shoulders, and one beautiful breast swung free of her brassiere. They stretched the unconscious teenager out on top of the bed and closed the door behind them. The girls helped to strip Beryl naked and then encouraged the boys to fuck her. They needed no encouragement and took turns to rape her and to abuse her body in an orgy of drunken lust.

Nine months later she gave birth to a baby boy 'Billy'. The identity of the father was never established, and Beryl had no desire to find out.

During Norman's brief courtship of Beryl, it became clear that young Billy was not best pleased with the arrival of Norman into his life. For four years Billy had been the sole recipient of Beryl's love and attention, and now he was reluctant to share them. Norman and Beryl convinced themselves that it was only a matter of time before Billy's hostility would lessen, but after their marriage when Norman moved in to Beryl's house, things got worse.

At 5 years old, Billy was a truculent, big-boned boy. The exact opposite of Norman when he was that age.

At school, Billy was a disruptive pupil and by the time he was 14 he had earned himself a reputation, quick to use his fists to intimidate boys, and constantly harassing girls. At home he was careless of his own privacy, and several times Norman had passed the open bathroom or bedroom door to see Billy naked, quickly averting his eyes to avoid the sight of Billy's heavy penis, dark complexioned in a small but growing thatch of rough pubic hair.

Billy had no care for education, was constantly absent from school and sought satisfaction for his sexual frustration. And then one afternoon, when he should have been studying geography with the rest of the 4^th form, Billy was down by the railway track intent on mischief. The footbridge that crossed the track was popular with young boys with a train-spotting hobby. It was also popular with 'Yarbo the Knickerpicker'. Yarbo was a notorious flasher, who delighted in lurking in the nearby bushes and exposing himself to passing children. Beneath his raincoat he didn't wear trousers, but instead wore trouser legs tied around his knees, leaving his private parts exposed when he opened his raincoat, but the appearance of trousers when his raincoat was buttoned up. Yarbo favoured young children but in their absence, he decided fourteen year old Billy 'would have to do'. As Billy drew close to Yarbo the pervert stepped from the bushes, drew the folds of his overcoat apart, and began to massage his wrinkled cock. Billy was intrigued, insulted and excited, all at the same time.

Billy slowly stepped toward the dirty old man, careful not to alarm him. Billy extended his hand to Yarbo, suggesting to Yarbo that Billy was going to touch the cock. Yarbo couldn't believe his luck, the frightened children normally ran away. And then Billy kicked out with his booted foot and landed his foot right into Yarbo's balls. The man staggered backwards, his hands clutching uselessly at his wounded balls, and then he collapsed writhing onto the muddy ground, all breath knocked out of his body, leaving him flapping open-mouthed, like a stranded goldfish. Billy felt the rush of domination, and without pause for thought, he took out his own virile cock, and urinated over the wounded pervert. Billy felt empowered, and he enjoyed the feeling.

Norman and Beryl's sex life had been perfunctory and infrequent from the start and had gradually ceased to exist at all. Norman's sexual orientation was ambiguous and following Beryl's birthday party abuse, she was understandably reticent in the bedroom.

One quiet afternoon in the library, one of the regulars, (he liked to pore over heavy illustrated books of nudes by old Masters) asked Norman for the key to the lavatory. An outbreak of graffiti and misuse had led to the toilets being kept locked. After a decent interval the man had still not returned, and so Norman went to investigate. The toilet appeared deserted until Norman checked the cubicles and found the man with his trousers down around his knees, slowly and deliberately masturbating. Norman stood there quite speechless, but, obviously unperturbed, the man continued massaging his erection and Norman continued watching. When the man extended his free hand and offered the key to Norman, Norman took it, and went and locked the door, and joined the man in the cubicle. Norman's latent homosexuality was released.

Norman was a loner. Not for him the gay bars, nor the company of those outrageous transvestites who publicly proclaimed their homosexuality. Norman preferred older, usually married men, he felt safer and more in control with them, and they weren't so rapacious as younger men. For his own safety he avoided group sex, and he steered clear of any long-term relationships, Norman was all about lust, not love. The validity and sense of this cautious self-imposed regime was brought painfully home to Norman one autumn afternoon when he had gone "jogging" in his favourite cruising ground.

The Storeton Golf course lay alongside Storeton Woods, an area of woodland that stretched a couple of miles along the coast. The woods were criss-crossed by a number of footpaths that were very popular with dog-walkers, joggers and collectors of lost golf balls. They were also very popular with lone males in search of casual sex with each other. Norman had parked his car in the gravel car park, and quickly stripped off his outer clothes. Beneath he wore a t-shirt, a pair of very tight, very brief shorts, white ankle socks and running shoes. He stepped out of the car, locked it and hid the keys on top of the rear wheel. The air was cool, the day overcast, but when Norman was "on heat", he never noticed the cold.

He set off trotting into the woods along one of the bigger tracks. To the casual observer Norman was just another jogger, but on closer inspection, the observer would have noticed that his t-shirt barely covered his navel, leaving a band of pale hairless midriff, And the shorts that were silky red and two sizes too small, the material stretched tightly across his bottom cheeks and in front, the outline and bulge of his genitalia were quite obvious. His shaven legs were shapely for a man, and the white ankle socks had frilly tops, of the kind much favoured by schoolgirls. He jogged and walked the network of paths and tracks, an essential reconnoitre to establish who else was in the woods, especially to see if any park rangers were on patrol.

But Norman needn't have worried, the only other people he encountered was a woman out walking her dog and another lone male. This lone male was known to Norman, not by name, but from previous sexual encounters, but for the time being Norman gave no signal of recognition, wanting someone new, a stranger, with the added thrill that came with such a meeting. But no one else was in the vicinity and so Norman returned to the area of the woods where his acquaintance was loitering. When this man appeared approaching Norman from the opposite direction, Norman slowed his jog to a walk and then from a walk to a dawdle, and then he stopped completely as the other man was within touching distance. Norman revelled in the glorious adrenalin rush that he always experienced at this moment before physical contact.

The man stopped alongside Norman, and, satisfied that they were quite alone, he reached out and fondled Norman's bulge, now much increased in size due to his erection, so much so, that the purple head of his prick was trying in vain to escape the elastic waistband of his shorts. Norman remained immobile and speechless, such body language deliberately adopted to express his submission and obedience. The man needed no further invitation, he steered Norman off the path and into a thicket of bushes. With Norman's help, they managed to force his shorts down past his hips and Norman's stiff prick literally sprang out and up. The man grabbed hold of the hard baton of flesh and Norman spoke the words that so thrilled him, "I'm sorry it's so small".

But the man had no time or inclination to ponder the significance of this declaration, he was already down on one knee and engulfing Norman's prick in his mouth. Now so thoroughly aroused, Norman managed to kick his shorts off and then pulled the t-shirt off over his head. He gloried in his nudity in the daylight air. He took the time to hang his shorts and shirt on a low tree branch, to prevent them from getting soiled underfoot, then returned his attention to the sight of the man sucking him so ardently. And it was at this point that another man stepped out from the cover of the bushes, his trousers undone, his own erection on display. Norman was shocked and surprised. This person must have been lurking in the bushes all along, otherwise Norman would have seen him during his earlier exploration of the woods. It was too late to do anything about it now, he certainly couldn't run away naked. This other man pressed himself up against Norman's back and Norman felt the stranger's penis rubbing against the soft flesh of his buttocks and probing between the cheeks. Norman's rapture rose several degrees and he surrendered to the excitement that racked his body. He reached up and took hold of a branch only just within his grasp and hung almost suspended, his torso taught and as tight as a violin string. The other two men were now masturbating Norman and each other. And then along the path came another two men.

Norman recognised them as soon as he saw them. They were always together and had made approaches to Norman before, but because they outnumbered him and because there was something about them that made him uneasy, Norman had always rejected their advances. Now Norman was totally nude and surrounded by four fully-clothed predators. He couldn't help himself, but the nature of his predicament, naked and at their mercy, appealed to Norman's masochistic streak, and he made no attempt to escape. One man was kissing Norman's nipples, another was wanking his prick, a third was trying unsuccessfully to fuck him and Norman was finding it difficult to delay his climax. While Norman was so preoccupied the first two men had mutual orgasms, one of them cumming over Norman's thigh, the other sending his product into the undergrowth.

Norman released his hold on the overhanging branch and turned to face the two latecomers. One appeared uninterested but the other stepped forward and grabbed Norman's throbbing penis and mechanically and harshly masturbated it, forcing the foreskin so far back that Norman gasped with pain and pleasure. It was so dispassionate and impersonal that Norman felt like nothing more than a tool and that feeling just added to his excitement. Norman cried out aloud as he spurted his hot load, and the man stepped back, hesitating only to wipe some of the juice that had smeared his hand on Norman's bare flank.

All passion now spent, Norman turned to retrieve his shirt and shorts from the tree branch. But they weren't there, they had gone!

Frantically, Norman looked around, in the branches, on the ground, they simply weren't there. All desire gone, Norman was suddenly aware of the chill in the air, he dropped his hands down to conceal his shrinking, sticky prick and ventured out of the bushes toward the path. The two latecomers were well down the path, seemingly stood still, and Norman caught sight of the flash of red that was his shorts. The man was waving them, tantalisingly, and then they continued walking away. Norman was in a state of panic, he looked up and down the path to make sure there was no-one else around. He was shaking. He could think of no solution to his dilemma, and so, feeling ridiculous and scared, his hands desperately covering his not-so private parts, he set off after the two men. As soon as he was close enough he called out, "Please! Please give me my clothes back!".

It was a useless plea, the begging of a naked pervert, they had taken his shorts and shirt for a purpose and how was he, one defenceless nude going to force two, fully-dressed men to grant his wish and hand his clothes back?

Norman followed them along the path, all the time looking ahead and behind to make sure there was no-one else in sight, and repeating, "Please, please".

And then they were at the end of the path where it emerged from the cover of the woods. Norman stopped, he could go no further. There was a green van parked further along the adjacent track, and in the distance there were two women walking a dog. He stepped back a pace and watched as the two men approached the van. One of them climbed into the driving seat and all Norman's hopes collapsed as it looked as if they were going to drive away and leave him stranded. He thought he might start crying with frustration and anger but as he peered out from the cover of the bushes, the second man slid open the van's side door and tossed Norman's shirt and shorts into the back. He stood there, staring in Norman's direction, alongside the open van, an unspoken invitation for Norman to get in if he wanted his clothes back.

Norman was in a quandary but he could see no alternative. He nervously looked all around, the two women walking the dog were drawing closer, he could hear voices, he looked back along the path and there, to his dismay, was a man walking in his direction. Still clutching at his genitals, Norman took off, running as fast as he could toward the van, his heart thumping, his buttocks shaking. He jumped straight into the back of the van and the man climbed in after him, slid the door shut with a bang, and the second man in the driver's seat released the handbrake, engaged the gears, and drove off, all in a matter of seconds.

Norman found himself sprawled on an old mattress and started looking around for his shorts but his kidnapper gave him a slap across his buttocks and told him to 'relax'. It was obvious they weren't finished with him yet. The ride was uncomfortable, the van bouncing over the rough terrain, and Norman lay curled up and silent, not wanting to incur his captor's displeasure or earn himself another smack. They drove the van to the headland where the track ended, a spot where anybody and anything approaching the van could be seen from a distance. The driver got out and slid the side door open, climbed in and joined Norman and his accomplice on the mattress. They held him for almost two hours, during which time they took turns to rape him, anally and orally, and at the same time. Twice the van was approached by single men who were invited in and allowed to use Norman as they pleased.

When they finally tired of him, they pushed Norman out of the van and threw his clothes after him, and drove away in a cloud of exhaust smoke, leaving Norman cold and shivering on his hands and knees.

It took Norman almost four weeks to recover from his ordeal, after which time he started to venture out alone again. By the end of the year, he had put the ordeal behind him, but paradoxically he also began to masturbate at the memory of the humiliation that he had suffered. But the lesson was not lost on Norman, and he never fell into that trap again.

It was the Friday of the week before Norman's 34^th birthday, the October nights were cold and damp. Billy, 14¾, was out somewhere and Beryl was at Bingo with the "girls" which was their Friday night ritual. At 7.30 precisely, Norman fulfilled his own weekly ritual; he turned off the television, got up out of his fireside chair and put on his overcoat. He picked up his newspaper, turned off the lights, and stepped out into the night. At the bottom of the path he turned right and made his way down to the "Red Lion".

He was served his pint of ale and retreated to his usual seat in the far corner of the lounge bar, right beneath the wall lamp. It would get busy later but right now it was quiet. Norman loosened the collar of his coat and opened the newspaper to the crossword. Twenty minutes later the crossword was finished and so was his pint. Norman folded up his paper and stood up from the table and returned his empty glass to the bar, the barman waved him good-bye and Norman closed the door behind him.

He took a moment to pull up the collar of his coat around his ears and glanced up and down the street, but instead of turning left and going home, he turned right and set off in the opposite direction. The pulled-up collar wasn't just to keep out the cold, it helped to avoid him being recognised, but he needn't have worried, there were few people about wanting to stop and chat. At the end of the road, he turned right and carried on until he reached a bus stop that was right opposite the park gates. And there he stopped, just another passenger waiting for a bus. But all his attention was on the park gates, and what lay beyond in the gloom.

The grey concrete public toilet was barely discernible, surrounded as it was with a thicket of trees. Slowly his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, his breath left wisps in the air, his throat was drying. His hands thrust deep into his pockets, he fondled his penis. A man appeared walking quickly along the road, and Norman followed his progress, the stranger entered the park gates and made for the hidden entrance to the toilet. Norman began counting the seconds. Minutes later the man reappeared and exited the park, and carried on his homeward journey. Norman relaxed and continued his vigil.

And then he saw movement in the park, beyond the railings, amongst the trees. Someone was creeping carefully toward the cottage. Norman's heart skipped a beat, he held his breath, and used the periphery of his vision to enhance the image. The figure hesitated and then crossed the short patch of open ground that led to the toilet and disappeared inside. Once again, Norman began counting silently. After three minutes he stopped counting and unbuttoned his coat. He took a last glance up and down the deserted road and stepped off the pavement and crossed over the road. The excitement of anticipation and the adrenalin rush combined to stiffen his penis, which, free of the constraint of underpants, sprang up and pressed for release.

The only noise to be heard as he neared the open entrance to the toilet was the rustle of fallen leaves beneath his shoes. Norman knew the interior of the little building so well that he was able step inside and up to the urinal without hesitation. He sensed the presence of the other person standing to his left and Norman could make out the man's body against the pale enamel. Norman stood within arms length of the other man and pulled down his trouser zip. His erect and trembling penis craned upward and sampled the night air. There was now only the sound of heavy breathing and a distinct lack of any sound of urinating. And then Norman felt the other man's hand reaching out for him, and then a hot, strong hand brushed against Norman's yearning prick and then encompassed it.

Norman sighed, his cock throbbing in the grasping fist, and then he whispered "I'm sorry it's so small".

The hand released its grip, there was a sharp intake of breath,

"Dad"?

"Billy!"

Norman had fled from the toilet in disarray and panic. Holding his loosened trousers up with one hand, and trying to draw his coat around him, he stumbled out into the park, all sexual desire departed and his penis shrunken, and instead of going out of the gates, he lurched deeper into the park, hoping the darkness would swallow him up. He kept on blindly running, until he thought his lungs would burst, and then collapsed onto a wooden park bench, and sobbing, cradling his head in his hands. He could scarcely dare to comprehend the implications. What would happen when Billy went home and told Beryl? What if he told everybody and it became common knowledge? Would he end up divorced, homeless, even jobless? Billy had no reputation to uphold, no marriage or job to protect, in short, he had little to lose but much to gain. And Billy was vindictive and cruel and dominant.

Billy stood at the entrance to the toilet watching the fleeing figure of Norman, as his inept step-father ran away, his coat tails flapping behind him. If it had been lighter an observer would have seen the smug self-satisfied smile on Billy's lips. But there were no observers and no light. Just Billy, his cock still exposed and standing upright, and Billy stroked it idly as he began to realise the possibilities that lay ahead of him. He wouldn't tell Beryl, unless Norman refused to do as he was told, it would be his and Norman's dirty secret. There were going to be some big changes around the house! He was literally, going to be the new "man of the house".

Billy walked off in the direction Norman had taken, not bothering to button-up his trousers, masturbating as he walked. Norman, his head still buried in his hands, still trying to come to terms with the enormity of what had happened, realised there was someone stood in front of him. He slowly looked up. The bulbous head of Billy's bloated cock swung inches from Norman's face, a strand of fluid hanging from its tip.

"Suck on this, bitch!" Billy demanded.

Norman groaned, closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

His passion spent, Billy had buttoned himself up and left, leaving his step-father Norman on the park bench, defeated and crushed. Oblivious to the cold, night air, he wanted to block the thought of what had just happened from his mind, but could not.

The taste of Billy was in his mouth and catching in his throat. Billy had thrust his throbbing cock into Norman's mouth until its swollen head touched the back of Norman's throat, causing the reluctant man to choke and retch. Billy cared not for his step-father's discomfort, indeed, it only heightened his own excitement and the euphoria of power that it evoked. Billy seized hold of poor Norman's head by his ears, and used them as handles to thrust Norman's head back and forth on his thrusting organ. Norman's eyes were screwed shut but Billy kept watch in the gloom to make sure they weren't disturbed, until the boy felt his climax approaching and then he looked down at the head with the sucking mouth and he held that head firm into his body as he pumped out his cream. Norman was not accustomed to swallowing but now he had no choice as he found himself gagging on the great spurts that lathered his tongue and throat.

The enormity and the implications that this debauched act heralded were all too obvious to Norman, as he hauled himself up off the wooden bench and gathered his coat around him. He didn't dare go home, not right now, not if Billy was back there, waiting for him, so he left the park and went up the road, and walked past his own front door until he was a safe distance away, and waited and watched for the arrival home of his wife Beryl.

When she stepped off the bus, Beryl was suitably surprised to find Norman waiting to meet her. He explained that he had stayed at the pub longer than he had intended and was only now on his way home, nursing a slight head-ache and that he intended to go straight to bed. As she unlocked their front door, Norman followed her in, and he felt a wave of panic and a nausea in his stomach at the thought of the reception they might receive from Billy. As Norman fled up the staircase he caught sight of Billy through the open living room door, he was lounging in Norman's favourite high-backed armchair, nonchalant, confident and drinking what looked like a glass of Norman's lager.

Tucked up in his bed, hiding in the comfort of the darkened room, Norman was left to ponder his nightmare fate and could think of no solution to his plight. And as if to reinforce his fears, his bedroom door quietly opened; and in the light that flooded in from the landing light stood the silhouette of Billy, large and menacing. Norman quaked beneath the sheets as Billy crossed to the bed and leaned over and with lager on his breath, whispered to Norman, "Goodnight, you queer cocksucker!"

With Norman at work and both him and Beryl home at night, Billy's opportunities to persecute and dominate his step-father were limited, and so he resorted to verbal abuse. Each time that Beryl was out of the room or out of earshot, Billy would drip his poison into Norman's ear:

"You homo pervert"

"Little prick"

"Cocksucking bitch"

"Pathetic wanker"

but when he could he would punch and slap the cowering Norman, and on several occasions he grabbed hold of Norman's genitals through the terrified man's trousers and crushed them in his meaty fist.

Beryl noticed the overnight change of atmosphere in the house immediately. Billy had always been brash but now he was positively arrogant and overbearing, and while Norman had always been reserved, he was now withdrawn and submissive. Norman had always been first to use the bathroom in the mornings, but now he was last in line, his favourite chair was now Billy's, and now Norman, always so careful with money, was paying for Billy's recreations. When she brought the subject up, Norman brushed the matter aside, and said that Billy was old enough now to be given more respect and responsibility.

Friday arrived like an appointment with the dentist, inevitable and ominous. It was a week ago that Norman and Billy had had their momentous encounter, and tonight Beryl was off on her girls' night out and where would that leave Norman?

As Beryl was getting ready to leave, Norman slipped on his coat, hoping to sneak out with her and escape to the pub with his crossword, he certainly had no desire or intention to visit the park toilet again, but even as he headed for the front door, he felt Billy's restraining hand on his sleeve.

"And where do you think you are going?" he whispered, as Beryl shouted her goodbyes and slammed the door behind her.

"Down to the pub," Norman meekly replied.

"You're not going anywhere," Billy sneered, "not without my permission."

"Please may I go to the pub?" Norman begged, ashamed at his own subservience.

In response, Billy took hold of Norman's ear and dragged his protesting step-father back into the living room. For the last week, Billy had sat staring at but not seeing the television. He had compiled, in his stubborn mind, a list of all the injustices, real or imagined, that Norman had visited upon him, all the criticisms, all the rebukes, the punishments, and now it was payback time, and above all, Billy wanted his sexual gratification.

"Get your clothes off!" Billy demanded.

Norman hesitated and started to plead, "Please don't do this son……." but was cut short by a sharp slap across the face. It wasn't very hard, but it was hard enough to stun Norman and to bring tears to his eyes.

The die was cast.

To Be Continued