("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- 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