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Cute Guys Getting It On
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Cute Guys Getting It On XXX
This story is rated XXX. For excitement. For excrement. For extraneous details.
I was entranced by the way sweat glistened off your heavy gut. I abhorred your stiff physicality. Puing you with laxatives seemed right. I know, you were never much of a housekeeper.
You've got to kill the maggots or you'll have a million flies.
Years ago, I discovered the rotten little rural town. The mountain landscape parted like pine-stubbl asscheeks in whose linty crack had been built the two supermarkets (1962 and 1979), the Liquor, Batand Ammo store, a darkened thrift store thick with dust, and the Econogas station with its small cnvnience mart: cigarettes, lotto. Refreshments. Heedless youths purchased beer there, sped away in hei old wrecks, blaring shitty music.
I'm a stinking drunk now, your best student grown to maturity. It blew in again, the chill from our er hunting days. How you roared with laughter when I shot that dog by accident. You pushed me over,ad I remembered how handsome you were. You of the jutting brow, square jaw, the low hairline, eyes edas valentines. Time for some cold ones. I fucked you for hours as bleary hope and boredom urged m evr onwards. The sun would rise, we'd pull the shades and fall entwined into a painful hangover. Idrowed you and left your ass sticking out the tub. No one came by, far as I ever heard. The old traler rts away under the vines and blown trash, old Pampers pressed into the lawn. You once wore them We ha some times.
The carrion fly seeks the new bloomed flesh-flowers when the old have sifted into the earth. I thinkf you when I'm with Joe now. He's different, a slender amphetamine sort, confused and quick to ange.I dragged him back to this cabin where the people wouldn't return till next summer. I was nearly sre If they came back sooner I had the gun. Joe had been married, but prison had dispatched the wife(diorce), and taught Joe how far he'd get in the world if he let himself be fucked by his superiors
To be honest, I was turned on my his temper. "I'm not doing your fucking cleaning, you fucking deprad animal," he would protest, standing in disbelief before the ziggurat of dirty dishes. I'd take on ook at his shirtless torso, skinny, muscular, scarred; savor his insolent slouch, cig dangling fro hs lip, beer barely held by two fingers, and I'd belt him across the face. His long dirty blond har wuld swirl across his face for the half second it took him to hit the floor. He'd be mad as hell,read to kill, but I never let him get to his feet. I'd smack him across the face again, and knock te win out of him with a hard blow to the stomach. That usually bought me time for personal reflectin.
One morning, as he looked at me in shock and hatred, clutching his stomach, it occurred to me to grahim by a clump of hair and drag him across the floor. I hadn't grabbed quite enough, and the clump uled out of his head. Adjusting my technique, I managed to drag him across the filthy brick-patternd inoleum floor where I handcuffed him to the wooden arm of a heavy couch. Words came to him as he ollcted his wits: I was now perilously close to having my feelings hurt.
His voice, a high, raspy tenor, filled the air with invective: "You motherfucking asshole, I'm gonnaucking kill you, you turd. You motherfucking turd. I'm gonna fucking burn this house down with you nit. I'm gonna fucking kill you, you fucking sadistic, sadistic ASShole." I was much larger than hewa, and managed to still him while I gave him the injection.
His unconscious body lay face down, cuffed hands circling the sturdy arm of the couch. I removed hisorn jeans, marveling at his butt, shapely if sickly pale. I couldn't restrain myself from licking i,opening my mouth wide and taking a long slow bite of it. I licked at his crack, getting a mouthfulofdried shit crusts. I turned his head sideways and gazed at his beautiful features. His broken nos. Hs sunken eyes, rung black from years of cigarette and pot smoking. His sensual lips gathered whiish oam at their edges. I planted my mouth on his, tasted at length his warm tongue, the taste of hs blod and what profanity remained undischarged from his throat. I was likely to demonstrate my senitive ature when Joe was out cold. I tied his ankles to a broom stick in a spread eagle position. Iwiped hs silent lips with a paper towel before sealing them with gray gaffer's tape.
I knocked back a couple beers while gazing out the window. Snow swirled lightly. Through the trees, could see the highway. A pickup with a couple dead deer strapped to the roof shot by. In the distaneI could hear a chainsaw. I took a flashlight with me out to the old toolshed out back where I foun afew nails in a rusted old coffee can.
When I returned to the living room, I heard some low groaning; Joe was beginning to stir a bit. I sttched the skin of his ball sack to the floor and positioned a broad-headed nail on top. Two heavy tp with the hammer, and the nail head pressed his ball skin securely to the floor. A collar of red sared to glisten around the nail head. I put in three more nails, spreading his ball sack as wide an flt as possible. He was secure now. I took a poker from the rack of tools by the fireplace. It hada shny, rounded brass handle which I shoved it up his ass about eight inches. I left it there for asthetc reasons.
I must have blacked out. When I looked around, it was dark out. I opened the fridge to fetch a beer.ight spread from within, revealing a smudge of blood on the linoleum floor. It all came back to me.
Flicking on the living room lights, I saw Joe's whitish body surrounded by the rich, warm colors of odland holiday: framed prints of ducks and retrievers, paneled walls, an appealing free standing brs ashtray with an amber glass dish at top. Joe, belly down in his own piss, looked at me with rage nddespair. He'd discovered that he couldn't move his butt without ripping his scrotum. Blood and pis cmmingled in a puddle between his legs. I made myself some coffee.
I sat on the couch to chat with Joe. I told him how touching it was that he wanted to live with me. at nothing compels him to stay. But that I would require him to be more thoroughly domestic in the uure.
Tears streamed down Joe's face.
I ripped the tape off and touched the barrel of my gun to his temple. His lower jaw quivered with fe. I knelt beside his head and fed him my cock. His mouth felt soft and moist, delicate even. It mad e want to cry. I slowly fucked his mouth for about an hour before tiring of it. I sealed him with reh tape.
Later that night I rallied a few of the local boys to come by and fuck Joe, still nailed to the floo reeking of piss. He'd beaten them all back in junior high. We had to remove the brass-handled shovl The mood was convivial. We all drank beers and laughed as one youth after another plunged his ful hrd dick into the increasingly ruined hole, a living sewer for come. Joe began red as a beet with age but paled over time, and the last kid complained that it was like fucking a corpse. I sent themhome Outside the sky was getting light again. I was ready. My cock was nearly hard. I put down my ber an crept up behind Joe. I stripped off his tape-gag.
"Why?" he wept. "Why?"
I lay my cock at his anal opening. The smell of the boys' fermenting semen was becoming quite heady. didn't have to push my way in, that's for sure. I eased into his warm slimy ass.
"Why the fuck not?" I rejoined.
The harder he wept the more unintelligible he became. I felt encouraged. I pumped at his hole, breatng heavy beer breaths. He could no longer speak. His mouth was just open. He panted like a dying anml. I grabbed his hips and pulled him onto my dick. His balls still nailed to the floor, he regaine seech and through loud uncontrollable weeping, he implored me to stop. With all my might I stood u, keping my dick pressed deep into his bowels. His scrotum ripped free of the floor. The room fille wit his screams. I fucked him. An astonishing amount of blood ran down his legs. I added my semen o thecollection.
I'm so far away now. Alone. We move on, we can never go back. I'm reluctantly convinced. From my traer I watch dust rise up off the plain in the wind.
Why did Joe have to leave?
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©1995 Kurt Hoffman
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