BDSM Library - Story: Plane Trip, Chapter: Part 3 On the Ground

Plane Trip 3 (revised)

by Emile

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João found Mitch on the floor, still bawling, naked, his leaky dick flopping against the floor, swollen purple balls grazing the dirty concrete. Even though his bladder had been drained by a catheter while he was under, the pressure of month's of cum now squashed by the saline sacs was almost unbearable.

"Piranha, get up" Mitch looked up. Towering over him was a huge moreno wearing a tight blue singlet and long shorts that accentuated his bulging dark skin rippling beneath. His face was angular and handsome, but flecked with acne scars and faint lines, and his green eyes burned into Mitch's naked white body. João 'assisted' the doctor, in return for a steady supply of the kinds of drugs that didn't usually make it to the favelas - medication. It was a good trade, João was rich in Rochinas, earning a few hundred pesos a month, and all he had to do was look after the freaks.

João grabbed him under the armpits, hauling Mitch shakily to his feet. Mitch leant on him heavily, still groggy and in pain, cradling his heavy package in both hands, trying to maintain a shred of dignity. João kept one hand buried in Mitch's deep pit, while the other rested on Mitch's taut incised abs. They were standing at close quarters, and he could see pain and fear in Mitch's eyes, but also hope, sizing him up as strong, hardworking and straight. Almost the truth. But Mitch's own big and muscular body was a change to the pre and post-op trannies that João usually had to deal with, and as he stood, his long fat cock lurched. He'd fucked plenty of guys for money, and found he enjoyed the power trip...

He spoke again, his stilted English rich, baritone and heavily accented. "I will take you to Et-an". Mitch looked relieved, at least that his horror was over. But João held him there, letting his broad hand slide down over his abdominals, down to the root of Mitch's cock, his fingertips pressing on Mitch's cupped hand. "But first, you do something for me." The horror rose in Mitch's eyes, as João forced Mitch's hand down, his cock bobbing up, vulnerable and exposed. "Habla Portugues, sua Piranha? Chupa meu pau..."

Ten minutes later, and João was reclined in the doctor's chair, naked, just as Mitch had been before, only his ebony guns were flexed and spread as he held onto the headrest, not strapped by his sides, as he bucked against it in pleasure, and his hard cock, much longer and thicker than Mitch's piece, was still emveloped in skin - first his tight tangy foreskin as he'd slipped down his shorts, then Mitch's pouty lips. He enjoyed seeing the muscular jock dad humiliate himself as much as possible - first by getting him to lean on the armrests and pump himself up and down on João's hosecock, and then when he was hard and leaky, on Mitch's knees, one arm beating his newly cut meat until it leaked and tore at the stitching, the other fingering his tight hole with one finger, then two, then to Mitch's heavy grunting, three fingers jammed up his chute, fucking himself roughly as he faceplanted himself down to the cockroot.

João must've pumped gallon of salty sap down his throat, as much prefuck as Mitch as drooling on the ground, before he roughly pushed Mitch off, gesturing for him to get up and turn around. Mitch staggered up and turned, exposing his muscular butt to the thug, who grabbed it, pulling Mitch up onto the chair. He pulled Mitch right back until he was sitting against João's slick abs, and with his meaty hands, pried Mitch's thighs apart, forcing his ankles over the armrest so Mitch's legs were spread wide, his own bloated balls resting on João's shaft, the two cocks throbbing together. João grabbed his hands, pushing them onto the armrests in front of his thighs and tying the elbow straps tight across his wrists. The position was diabolical, João merely slid up in the chair to sit upright, and it pushed Mitch forward against his hands, forcing his thighs wider and wider until it felt like his muscles would snap. João's own hard dick slid against his crack, until, with some rough manipulation, João jammed the head against Mitch's now defenceless and primed hole. Mitch began babbling about his unfucked hole, and begging João to stop. But as he pushed the battered head against Mitch's tightened sphincter, he put his dark hand over Mitch's mouth, forcing the sweaty fingers between his teeth. "Eh Piranha, just smile for the camera!" Mitch stifled a scream as the log jammed between his arselips, realising for the first time the blinking red light on the far wall of a video camera trained on the surgery chair. João gave Mitch's horsecock a few pumps, making sure it was primed and hard, his fat balls dangling, as the live feed of his slow and brutal rape broadcast to the unknown audience.

He certainly made quite a picture. The unwilling porn star was white, buff, smooth and hung, his handsome chiseled face and rugged body would, in America and Brazil, be the picture of wealthy ahtletic prowess and masculine success, if it wasn't scrunched up in pain from mercilessly pile-driven the the thick stalk T-boning his spread thighs on his live virgin fuck. His eyes showed fear and innocence, but there was no defiance, he'd had been broken by unseen events, nor was there acceptance, his degradation still fresh and ongoing. His body, bar the wicked cuts and piercings on his dick and balls, and their shaved and bloated appearance, was still strong and seemingly unmarked (the tatt on his shoulderblades being pressed against João's chest). He even still had his close cropped leg hair, stubble visible against the milky skin. His dime sized nipples still pebbles on a strong and square chest, his muscles still flexing from unspent force, his incised abs still clenching with every thrust, not a hint of a stomach to be seen above the narrow waist, not an ounce of fat. He was a fantasy fuck, and as Ethan intended, he was prime for being fucked up.

Across town, in a gaudy coloured juice bar only a few hundred metres from the slick new pad Ethan had bought in Leblon from Mitch's assets and savings, bidding started over the TV footage of the hunky Americano being expertly ploughed by their dark skinned friend. The doctor's patients usually made a pitt-stop in the favela on their journey home, no-one ever cared so long as they made it out alive and intact in time for delivery. Or, as João had told them for this hunk of flesh, just alive. Ethan had been very generous. Three days, he'd given them, and said they shouldn't hold back anything. One man fingered his collection of fine jewelry, lined up expertly from the largest and widest cockring through to the heavy nose and earrings down to the smallest clit-tickler. He was wondering how much he could get through in the two hours he could afford. Another just fingered his belly, a droplet of piss pearling on his dicklips from the pressure. There were grunts and farts and the wet slapping sound of half a dozen men priming their cudgels for action. They might not have been as big as João, but they had plenty of toys to help them. And on a liquid diet served only with dick, Mitch would learn to be very accommodating.