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The Hose Pipe
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.
"
Whenever I see a hosepipe it always reminds me of a certain incident
that happened in my childhood. I was twelve years old at the time and
because it was a glorious summer, my family was spending the vacation
on the coast with relatives. Since the grown ups preferred their own
company, that left me to the tender mercies of my cousin Angela.
On the day in question we had been sent off to play in the paddling
pool at the bottom of the garden, well out of sight of the main house.
Angela, being two years older then me and rather bossy by nature, sent
me off to get the hose. I didn't really mind; we were both in swimming
costumes and with her gymnast's body and freckles I guess she looked kind
of cute. I was just old enough to appreciate looking at the way her
breasts pushed againsts the fabric of her one-piece costume (though
whether _she_ appreciated me looking was another matter).
I returned with the hose and fixed it to the cold tap, then she ordered
me to turn it on. "Ha!", I thought, and turned it on full, then directed
the spray at her, throughly soaking the diminuative dictator. Rather than
dodge the jet she stood stock still, then turned and smiled sweetly:
Would I like to see under her costume? Yes? Then I should stand over by
that tree and close my eyes.
Ah. Innocent that I was, I did as she bade. Of course no sooner had I
done it than she took one end of the hose and ran around and around the
tree, binding me to it. Slipping the end of the hose underneath one of the
coils to secure it, she stood back to admire her handywork. In fact it
wasn't very secure and I knew I could probably be heard at the house if
I screamed loud enough, but this was getting interesting; I decided to
wait and bear what happened.
She tickled me for a bit, then I complained the pipe had been lying in
the sun and was burning me. She had a solution for that: she returned to
the house then came back after a few minutes with an assortment of ropes,
broom handles and pieces of string. First she tied my hands and ankles
on the other side of the tree so I was facing the trunk. Then she stood
behind me and stroked my crotch through the fabric. When she felt me get
hard she gripped the trunks and the front and back and suddenly pulled up
with all her strength, jamming the cloth into my crack and slightly
crushing my balls. I groned slightly and she giggled as she passed a cord
from the trunks to a branch above, forcing me to stand on my toes to avoid
placing all my weight on the compressed testicles. Next she freed the end
of the hose and pulled, whipping it from me as fast as possible, giving me
a spiral pattern of friction burns.
"Ouch", I cried.
"Ah, diddums. Issy hot?", she replied. I said nothing.
She took this as a cue to bring the hose back into play. Changing it
to the hot tap, she started playing it in short squirts over my back,
my legs and, most embarassingly, holding it tightly against the fabric
over my anus and sending the sub-scalding water rushing inside me.
Trying to divert her attention I claimed the swimming trunks couldn't
continue bearing my weight. Mistake! She turned the hose off, untied
the cords and rolled down my skin tight briefs. Then she produced one
of the broom handles, smeared it with some handy suntan lotion and
placed it against my hole 'for support'. I was now standing on my toes,
desperatly clenching my buttocks to prevent the wooden pole slipping
inside my water streached ass under the force of my weight.
Angela wasn't finished. She took up the hose again, and stroked the
rubber hose down my back then stepped back and lightly hit me with it.
It stung again my wet back and I rocked forward, my erect penis griding
against the rough bark. THWACK! She hit me again, harder this time,
and I felt the slippery pole nose against my anus, slightly streaching it.
Again! And this time on the buttocks. My foot slipped on the wet grass,
and for one moment my entire weight was supported by my sphincter, then
gravity took over and I was impaled. The warm water stored inside me
gushed down the inside of my leg and Angela continued her whipping. She
was berating me for being a dirty boy. I wasn't listening. My entire
concentration was on the shaft that throbbed inside me each time my body
jerked to her blow.
© 1992 Count Alucard
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