The Itch: Part II, August 30, 1998- Revised November 11, 2001
What was I to do with them? The girl was easy to dispose of, there were men
whom I knew who would take her to Mexico, and through connections sell her
abroad. She would fetch good money on the international slave market.
Especially since she was unable to control her orgasms, there would be wealthy
people who would pay to see her trained into a female squirt gun, day in and day
out. The boy was more complicated. Yes, there were folk who would purchase
him. But boys are more difficult to manage. And although Michael was a
pussycat with an unruly dick, there would still be fewer contacts that would be
willing to deal with him. I decided that as long as I had both, I would play
with them for a while until I could dispose of them both. While my connections
made arrangements, there were still moments of fuck lust to video.
I carefully checked their identifications. His wallet was a beat up thing with
a Utah driver's license. There were no pictures of family in the wallet, and I
could find no telephone numbers. I learned later that he was an only child
from a strict Mormon family, unusual to say the least the way Mormons fuck. He
had rebelled against the strict rules that kept his dick hard and aching all
the time, run away to Arizona, and had eventually found his way to Texas where
I had picked up both he and the girl. She was from Northern Arizona and didn't
seem to have a background. She was two years younger than him, and had few
possessions. There was a telephone number in her wallet for a cousin in
Pennsylvania. But the paper was old and had obviously not been removed from
the wallet for some time. These kids were on their own, and now they were
temporarily in my possession.
After our first night which I described previously, I tied Michael to a bed in a
room next to Susan's. I kept him blindfolded, so that I could manage him
better. He had calmed down considerably, and in spite of his feeble efforts to
show bravado, his fear ultimately made him do everything I asked. I told him
that if he and the girl just cooperated for a few days, I'd take them back out
on the road, and let them go. I said I would blindfolded them, but with at
least one hand free to loosen themselves. He bought it, but begged me not to
hurt them. Shit, I wasn't going to hurt them...though the thought of a little
torture was clearly on the agenda. My goal was to enjoy their superb physical
beauty, and milk the juices out of them for my pleasure before I made some
tangible profit from shipping them to markets where white boys and girls are
sold for sex at a premium prices. It was one thing to get a Chech, Yugoslav,
Bulgarian, or Romanian boy or girl. They were sexual animals that were well
appreciated on the open market, and easy to obtain... especially the ones
between 17 and 22. But to get Americans was one of the top market scores.
Since I specialized in that market, I knew these two lovely kids would fetch a
fine premium.
Initially, I tied Michael spread eagle, with his fine, muscular feet open and
exposed, as well as his hairy armpits. His firm stomach muscles, etched with
youth and work, were carefully delineated, his navel barely visible from
beneath the hair in and around it, and his sweet cock, resting flaccid and
exhausted from the night before over a sac of big, heavy testicles that were
already brewing another batch of boy crud for my enjoyment. I had taken him
cuffed, with a spreader bar, and blindfolded into the shower and washed him
down. Fuck, to see him hobling to the shower, his big feet padding on the rung,
the spreader bar making him almost hop. His hands cuffed up behind his back,
and the blindfold forcing him to accept my direction. He was so big, so pale,
and so sexual, and so helpless. The sweet boy funk and the natural musk had
washed down the drain. When I washed his prick it immediately erected and
giving him a gentle douche rather than a full enema had tickled his prostate
and made him start to drip sap as if on cue. After drying him, inspecting his
ears, cleaning the lint from his navel, and looking carefully between each toe,
I had taken him to the room. He'd been wearing flip flops when I picked him
up, and I guess keeping his feet exposed kept them clean as well as strong. I
was surprised that his heels and soles were not callused, just naturally soft
and supple in spite of the muscular strength of each of his feet. I oiled his
soles and the palms of his hands, knowing how sensitive the skin became as it
was softened. I'd use that feature, and I know it would make him even more
appealing to clients.
Susan remained in her room. I kept her legs separated by a wide spreader bar,
that caused her labia to be separated just slightly. That way, any breeze that
entered the room, from the fan in the corner or even the window if I opened it,
would send a sweet shiver right to her clit, and cause it to make her drool cunt
juice. Even a hint of a breeze, or the sense of a touch, would cause her fine
nipples to harden and crinkle, almost painfully-desperate to be massaged or
pinched.
The night before, I had gotten her to describe to me how it felt when Michael
fucked her. Jesus she was a slut. As I licked her tits, and scratched my
rough fuck finger up and down her slot, she told me the whole story.
Between..."mmmmmmmnnnnn...uuuuugggghhh.... Aaaaahhhhh... mmmmm...
aaaaghhhhhh...." from the insidious tickling of her cunny, she said she met him
at a bus station in Tucson, and when he saw her sitting towards the back of the
bus going to Dallas by herself he immediately joined her. She liked the way he
talked, his soft drawl, and the way his jeans fit his thighs and calves, his
long muscular legs and pale muscled feet, and then there was the fading bulge
at his crotch. By the time the lights were out, and the bus driving through
the night, he had one blunt, callused fuck finger, stroking the outside of her
damp panties, making her wet them more, and squirm from the delicious feeling
of his finger pad gently pushing the material between her cunt lips and roiling
her clit. While they talked in soft tones, without anyone realizing, he used
that finger to make her cum twice as they drove...and he knew it. She said that
though his voice was soft and deep, and he spoke so gently, when he felt her
cum he said stuff to her that made her crazy. He urged her to squirt her
juice on his finger, to submit to its rough, domination...talking low and
dirty. As she described his insidious finger fuck, I had slipped my own rough
digit up her slot, and used my thumb to two work her whorish clit as the story
continued.
Once they dot to Dallas, they found a room in a cheap motel, and he fucked her
three times the first night, making her squeal with pleasure as his thick
curved cock rasped against her insolent love button, exposing it, and bending
it against the rigid stalk as he stroked in and out like an experienced bronco
buster. He continued to talk sweet and low, but fucked like a champ, flexing
those strong thighs and driving that tight ass and keeping her pinned beneath
his strong, lithe body. The next day, while they were hitch-hiking from Dallas
he took her behind a road sign, and sucked her pussy and pinched her tits until
she cried that she couldn't cum one more time. He gave her that sexy, handsome
smile, his face wet with her juices, and then unbuttoned his jeans so she could
suck him off once for the road. The laughed at their own inside jokes, as the
talkative business man who gave them their next ride, had no idea how recently
they had been spiting fuck juices.
I began trolling my tongue between her fat, sticky cunt lips as she babbled her
confession, occasionally flicking her clit, but mostly rolling her tits, and
her gasping and grunting as I made her squirt more and more strong sap onto my
tongue. I told her until she got the whole story all out, I wouldn't let her
cum again, and she hastened to comply, anxious to have that cunt contract just
one more time.
God I love a helpless snatch that can't control the need for a soothing touch
once the juices start to flow. Before I let her cum, I made her describe how
her step-father and brother felt when they fucked her, made her describe their
cocks in detail...describe the taste of their cum when they shot sticky loads
down her throat, and how their fat knobs would torture her clit when they
fucked her. When she got to her brother bringing one of his buddies home and
fucking her twice each, and getting her to suck them to one last cum, I felt
her cunt contract and then flood my tongue and mouth with her tangy soup.
Before I left the room, I had her legs propped back and up at the knees so they
rested against her boobs, still wide apart because of the spreader bar. Then I
placed a board with a short dildo attached to it between them and inserted its
slender but pebbled surface just inside her cunt lips, coated with the lovely
gel that would drive her almost insane. She could mash her clit against the
short prod just barely, and tickle her sensitive labia that were itching
terribly from the sticky lube. But she couldn't bring herself off, so she
spent the night in a fitful sleep, occasionally awaking to desperately try to
jerk herself off, but unable to do so. Her tits were like firm stones when I
saw her in the morning, aching from the need to be relieved of the natural and
induced itch deep up her trough. The more she drooled, the more the sticky gel
irritated her cunt hole, clit and labia, making them itch madly.
Michael was a more difficult case. He wasn't the kind of boy who blabbed his
private life...mostly because unlike the men who brag, Michael actually got the
piece of ass he wanted. His stunning good looks and easy manner, that soft,
deep voice and the lazy way he spoke lulled the senses, and made panties get
wet. I unleashed his feet one by one, while he remained blindfolded, and
attached them to spreader bar placed under his knees. I then detached each
wrist and attached them to the ends of the bar, outside of his legs. That way,
Michael was deliciously bowed, exposing his hairy little ass pucker and balls,
and the tender soles of his feet. Not surprisingly in this position I was able
to extract a considerable amount of information from the tasty little punk.
First I told him that I wanted to get a full account of his sex life from the
first ejaculation to the present. I wanted to know about the chicks he'd
fucked, the strange places he'd jerked off in, and the times he'd let guys
touch his cock. At first there was nothing, but when my finger began to tickle
his ass pucker, he got the message and began to talk. But Jesus, it was clear
that he'd never spoken of this stuff much, so I told him that he needed some
incentives: "Michael, ten words in succession is not a story...and I know
you've heard guys tell tales of cunt and cock. So you've got to do better.
And just to make sure that you understand that I mean business, here's just a
taste of what you'll get if you don't make this confession a hell of lot more
interesting."
I picked up an electric toothbrush that was plugged into a wall socket. I'd
added the spinning bristles to the powerful motor of an automatic screw driver.
Some modification gave me the power, at various speeds, with the motion of the
brush both back and forth and with the press of a button, bristles spinning.
The brush I'd attached had various bristle tips, and the one I put on now had
firm, upright bristles. I switched it on, and brought the vibrating base next
to Micheal's face...he could hear the buzzing motor and feel the nearby
vibrations. "Michael, you know, I learned a long time ago that big strong guys
like you are often unable to stand something as simple as a little tickling?
Am I right...(he said nothing, but I could see the perspiration beginning to
form under his arms and at his temple and his hands and feet moved aimlessly in
their bonds). Maybe if I just helped you relieve some of your tensions, you
could do a better job of telling me about your prick life, what do you think?"
He babbled that he'd do better, but I had not intention of letting him off the
hook. I wanted to be sure that he'd sing like a bird when I was through.
I lowered the brush, set at the lowest level, near to his face. The whirring
bristles got closer and closer, and he thrashed his head back and forth to
avoid them..."no...don't I said I tell ya what you wanted...com'on, no,
don't...fuck...don't do this, why're doing this...I told ya I'd
tell....nnnnnoooooooo." That last plaintive plea came as the bristles made the
slightest contact with the space next to his ear lobe, on his cheek, and then
whirled through the emerging stubble of his beard, down to his neck. God I
loved it how he thrashed and scrabbled his fingers and toes, gurgling and
begging, as I worked that toothbrush back and forth over his adam's apple, and
just under his nose and into the tender entrance to his nostrils. He howled
and pleaded, saying he'd do anything...but he already had...springing a raging
hardon that was drizzling clear pre-sap over the wide piss lips and fat knob of
his big boy pecker.
When I let the bristles work up each of his tender, rubbery nipples the cones
turned red and stiff from the sweet sensation of those wicked little bristles,
suddenly twirling round and round with a press of my finger on the button,
making him arch as little as he could under his current bondage. But the real
test of my efforts came when I used the stiff little tooth brush over his rock
hard abdominal muscles and scoped out his hairy little navel. That's when the
song began..."AAAAAHHHHH, AAAAAAGGGGHHH...HAHA, NO HAHAHAHA...NO...I CAN'T
BREATH...PLEASE...AAAHAHAHA....NOOOOOOO...I'LL TALK, I'LL
TALK....AAHAHAHAHA.....!" His toes were tightly curled, and I had not even
reached them yet...and all the while his throbbing erection spurted drops of
pre cum, basting the bloated fuck tip and making it a perfect target as our
session went on. But I was satisfied for now that Michael was ready to spill
his guts, and when I asked him to begin, I was so pleased with the progress that
only fifteen minutes had produced. I realized though, that the intense
reaction to tickling ensured that Michael would be put through a complete
session. His dick drooled too much to miss the chance to see how it would
respond when his senses were totally confused, and he could not control
himself.
With me fiddling with the toothbrush, gently dragging it here and there on his
firm young body, Michael reluctantly told me his story. When he was twelve
he'd learned that his dick could provide exquisite pleasure. He'd started out,
quietly masturbating himself in bed at night, first by fucking the sheets, and
later by lubing his fist with spit and sliding it up and down his big, curved
boy pecker. But when he was thirteen, the older boy next door showed him after
a wrestling match that boys naturally got hardons and that they were supposed
to be relieved. For about a year, their relationship developed and the boy
showed him many ways to shoot cum, including getting one's dick sucked...a
pleasure that Michael could not resist. He refused to suck the older boy's
cock, but once he got hard, it always seemed it was just a matter of time
before the kid had Michael's own pants down at his ankles along with his briefs.
It felt so good to have his rough palm sliding up and down the boy's curved
prong, and when his tongue was licking up and down the helpless teen's aching
erections, eventually sucking until he shoot streams of boy juice, Michael
wanted to resist but couldn't. These sessions continued until Michael was
fourteen, but then he'd discovered girls.
Girls always seemed to want to touch him, and he let them. It started with the
older sister of one of his friends, who seduced him when he'd come over to
visit his buddy. His cock seemed helpless once introduced to the tight muscles
of a clinging cunt, and she'd drained three ejaculations from him while he
learned to suck her tits and make her grunt and groan in pleasure. From then
on, he never was without a chick to drain his dick. Blow jobs at the drive in
movies, Friday night fucks in the back seat of the car on some lonely road,
wherever he could, he got his dick serviced. Only once more, before he'd
graduated from high school had the neighbor kid sucked his dick. He'd come
home from a date, drunk...and his girl had puked before he could nail her.
She'd cried and wanted to go home, and his week's load of boy scum had his
balls bloated. His neighbor, now nineteen, saw him staggering in late and
managed to get his hands on his crotch as he offered to help him into the
house. He said he couldn't remember what happened, but somehow he was on the
couch, while he parents and siblings were sleeping, getting his thick curved
cock expertly sucked. His ass had bounced instinctively as the neighbor's hot
mouth lubed and nibbled, sucked and vacuumed, licked and lashed his sensitive
cock knob until he had shot volley's of teen cum down the voracious throat. He
woke up the next morning in his own bed, and he never spoke to the kid next door
again, always making sure to avoid him whenever he saw him.
Once he left Utah, he seemed to always find a gal "that needed what he had to
offer." He'd screwed several college girls, a housewife, and a bar maid in
Tuscon during the time he stayed there. He'd learned to keep his hands off
his dick so that he could fuck forever, and he loved the way women whined as he
long dicked 'em, grinding their clits with his rigid stalk. Seemed like there
was always a horny bitch wanting to suck his dick, and he never disappointed a
lady with a wet snatch. He just liked to make them purr and squeal when he
sucked, fingered or fucked 'em. The way a pussy clutched his dick, just made
him want more and more. He couldn't get his wick dipped enough, but he was
never mean or pushy. Girls just saw that handsome, sweet boy next door mug and
melted into whatever he wanted to do with their sticky pussies and taut
titties. I made sure his dick remained rigid while he told me his story,
fingering his nipples, scratching inside his navel, rubbing the tooth brush
gently against his ball sack, inside his thighs, or briefly against the bottom
of his feet. Here was one of those boys whose cock worked independently of his
brain, always ready to get touched and sucked.
I used a ball stretcher and cock-ring on Michael, once I masturbated him into
another unwanted erection. Then I lubed and slipped a very slender and short
dildo up his asshole, covered with small, stiff points that rested just below
his prostate. Every time he moved that night, the remote sensor in this
wonderful little device I bought in Hong Kong, would activate its vibrator, and
he would be given a sweet little massage on his fuck nut that made his prick go
stiff and drool. I later learned that he had only had a finger up his butt
once before he encountered me, when an older cousin of his tied him up and
stripped him when he was fifteen during some horsing around in a barn. The kid
had lowered his pants and briefs, sucked his finger, then tickled it up the
resisting hole while Michael threatened to kill him when he got free. But he
admitted that he sprung a boner, and that his cousin had pulled it down between
his legs, and hooked it under the briefs that were at his thighs. He said his
cousin's taunting finger fuck, coupled with him using the other hand to just
jerk and tickle the knob of his aching schlong, made him shoot crud for what
seemed like a minute. He'd yelped and groaned from the overwhelming sensations
and the ticklish itch that seemed to envelop his prick tip. People just
couldn't keep their hands of Michael, or his dick.
Now that I had learned both of the backgrounds, I wanted Michael and Susan ready
the next day for more fun and games. I was not disappointed.
The next morning, after I let him piss and shit while I supervised and wiped him
clearn, I hosed down Michael in the shower, and fed him while blindfolded and
bound. I placed him on his knees on a floor level rolling cart. His knees
were spread by a bar, and his arms tied down to his ankles, bowing his chest out
the opposite direction he'd been while trussed on the bed the day before. I
put a collar on his neck, and fastened a chain from the collar to the cart in
between his legs which dangled off the back of the it. That caused his head to
be tipped slightly backwards. I supported his lower back and neck with a firm
pillow bolster I made for this use, and it allowed him to thrust his tits up
like a girl, keep his asshole available from underneath, and tip his head up
towards anything that his tongue might have to service. Much to my surprise,
but also my delight, Michael's thick cock had erected and was dripping by the
time he was wheeled into the room with Susan whom he could not see.
For her part, Susan was crouched in a wide, standing squat. Her legs were keep
separated and her feet on the surface of a table split wide enough to roll
Michael's cart between. By firmly attaching her feet to fixed bolts in the
thick wooden surface of the table, Susan was squatting high enough for Michael's
head to just reach her sodden pussy. Two strong metal braces lined with
padding and fixed to the respective side of the table-top took her weight off
her thighs and calves by supporting the bottom of her buttocks and the top of
her thighs. Her arms were cuffed up high between her shoulder blades so that
her breasts were thrust out, and her nipples aimed upwards were fully exposed
and engorged. I had a blindfold over her eyes, and a small vibrating penis gag
in her mouth. I also had her ears covered so she could hear nothing. The
squat of her legs allowed her blonde pubis to thrust out and down between her
buttocks, open and ever moist. From below, I had a stream of moist air flowing
up from a narrow and specially designed blower fixed on one side of the table
between her legs, moistening her cunt lips to make them wet, red and irritated
and making her molested clit ache for a soothing touch. I used one had to
twirl her nearest nipple, and rubbed my rough thumb at the top of her labia,
causing her to grunt against the ticklish gag in her mouth. God I liked that
immediate, instinctive response.
Now the games were to begin. I rolled Michael over to the squatting woman who
had been his lover less than 48 hours earlier, but whom he could not see. She
for her part did not know he was in the room, and could neither see nor hear
him. I asked him, as his upturned face and his nose came under her now moist
and fragrant cunt, what he smelled:
He said nothing until I scratched my fingernail in his armpit, and then he
croaked: "I smell pussy, Mr." "Yes indeed, Michael, something that I know you
like very much. I'm told by Susan that you're quite a dog, and that you lap
cunt with the best of them."
"I've always have had a hankering for pussy juice since I was sixteen," he said
with a sweet honesty that indicated he'd decided to go through this and just
get out alive, "and my best friend's older sister let me lick her snatch one
afternoon after baseball practice while I waited for hm. She showed me how to
stick my tongue up her hole, and tickle her joy button, and I kind liked the
way she squeaked each time I made the mark." I watched as the perspiration
began to drip from his armpits.
"Well, Michael, I've got a ripe pussy for you to lick right here. It belongs to
a girl that can't stop juicing, she's a regular prick hound. In fact she's got
one fine little snatch, nice and blond with fur all along the hole, and the
lips spread so you can get to the tasty meat just inside, and a clit that looks
like its a half-inch long and throbbing for something to rub it. Jesus, I'm
looking up into that hole, just above your nose Michael, and I can see the
juice dripping down, ready to coat your face."
He asked me whether she was clean, he didn't want to eat a nasty cunt, but I
smiled as I noticed his dick had gone rigid, and was curving up and out, sticky
wet from his pre-cum, dripping down. "Oh she's clean right now
Michael...you're lucky. But you never know...she's so horny for dick, we might
need to find some young guys to fuck her and fill her with their sap, and then
we'd need to have someone clean her snatch out...maybe you?" He protested,
saying he wasn't into that and telling me he'd been cooperative, so why would I
want to do something like that...he just wanted to finish so I'd let him and
Susan go. I assured him he'd be okay...not to worry, just concentrate on the
job at hand. There was a sticky cunt, sweet and hairy, just waiting to be
sucked and he was the man for the job.
But now I was going to add some fun for both of them that they were not
suspecting. I took a half-inch paint brush, dipped it into a bowl of thick
clear gel, and swabbed the lips of Susan's horny cunt, rummaged the bristles
all around her clit and its fleshy cover, and then deep up the hole to her joy
spot. She squealed and howled through her gag, the unsatisfying tickling
driving her wild, making her hands scrabble behind her back. I turned on the
penis vibrator in her gag to its lowest setting to distract her from the
sensation of the bristles. She grunted and groaned in frustration from the
ticklish intrusion that failed to help her achieve a much needed orgasm. Then
I took the same brush and basted her conical tits. What she did not know was
that the gel was a fierce itching compound and topical aphrodisiac that worked
on the erectile tissues, and with the chemical composition of cunt juice or
sperm. Within moments, the interior of her cunt, the weeping labia, and
inside, around and on her unprotected clit, little red bumps appeared that were
not painful but itched to the point of distraction and madness. The same
occurred on her tits, and soon would be doing the same up her asshole. I
inserted a thin glass rod with horsehair bristles coated with the cream up her
fundament, and the end of the thing had a wire that led to a console where it
could be activated into a quivering, spinning probe that could not be ejected
because of the harness that kept it in place. Over her tits, I slipped two
loose clips that would not cause pain but would conduct electrical shocks to the
itching nipples, and sometimes a steady current that buzzed those already stiff
nodes into a tickle that could not be imagined. Within seconds of activating
the entire combination, Susan was squealing helplessly, her disobedient cunt
craving the horrible sensations that flooded her dick obsessed brain.
When she started to squeal and scream around her buzzing penis gag, I turned on
its vibrator to the next level so that the plastic would tickle the roof of her
mouth and buzz her teeth, rattling her out of her ability to concentrate on the
incredible itch and tickle that had overtaken her body's most erotic locations,
and prevented her from concentrating on a much needed cum.
Now came the final piece of the puzzle. First I told Michael to open his mouth.
As he did so, I slipped in a retainer that helped him keep his mouth slightly
open, and allowed his tongue free movement. I then slipped a special, flexible
sheath of soft plastic over the end of his tongue, and was secured by small
rubber bands into groves on the inside of the retainer so it would not slip
off. The sheath could move back and forth, sideways, and up and down as the
tongue moved, tethered to the retainer. The plastic sheath covered the broad
surface of the tongue, and the protruding tip beyond. Michael had a long,
flexible tongue, and I could imagine how girls had loved to see his handsome,
movie star face, and then had a small orgasm when he stuck his tongue down
their throats. Just the thought of that soft, long, flexible tongue made their
cunts go sticky.
The further genius of the device was that the soft plastic cover was coated with
a fine pad of stiff, short horsehair bristles. The consistency made the
bristles flexible and soft one the one hand, but scratchy and firm enough to
irritate on the other. I rolled Michael back slightly so his nose was nearer
Susan's palpitating asshole clenching from the bristle massage deep inside, and
his mouth was poised right at the line of the quaking, slippery cunt. I
sprayed some neutralizing liquid into his mouth, to prevent him from developing
the maddening bumps from the gel that coated Susan's hole. But if his tongue
slowed from its appointed rounds of making the sliding bristle pad graze back
and forth over Susan's labia and clit, and deep into her spasaming trench, a
brief shock would be delivered to his tongue by virtue of a small sensor wire
to remind him of his duty. I had a narrow mteal band that fit just under his
fat glans, with another small sensor wire. I circled his heavy, hanging nut
sack, and clipped his tits. The same treatment slated for his tongue would be
delivered to his dick, his balls, and his tits if he did not perform vigorously.
The sensor sent that signal along with a random spinning, flexing and thrusting
motions to a special little vibrator that I slipped up his asshole covered with
the same tickling horsehair, as I had given to Susan.
I told him his charge, and set him in motion.
"Michael, you need to try and wring six or seven orgasms from this slut within
thirty minutes, or I'll slip a mechanical milking device over your dick and
leave it on you all night. So let's get to it shall we?" He grunted from the
thought of my threat, but that throbbing erection of his just dripped more and
more sap as he launched himself into his task.
Michael thrust his blind tongue straight up to where he thought the cunt was
located, not knowing that he was torturing sweet Susan, his bus-stop fling.
When the bristle came in contact with the angry red bumps, Susan went crazy.
She loved the bristles because they momentarily soothed the itch, but then they
would aggravate it all the more in concert with the gel that I continued to
baste onto her sensitive parts with the little paint brush, making her cunt
spasm and spit juice. And when he thrust tongue up and into her cunt hole,
reaching up deep inside her, and the swipe of the bristle pad penetrated to the
exposed expanse of her throbbing clit....I thought Susan would pass out.
Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for her, she did not. Moreover, just as
she would be ready to succumb to the awful sensations, I would pull Michael's
cart away. Her cunt would throb, and drip, clench, and quiver, but her
hardened clit could not get what it needed desperately.
For his part, Michael's angry red wang was covered in the little bumps since I
decided to baste his knob as well, waving helplessly and futilely...hoping that
some hand or something would soothe it. I slipped on a little finger pad with
the horse hair bristles on the end, and just lightly scratched the big,
overwrought knob of the young man's fuck stick. That, and I alternated the
wicked flexing anal probe that worked his prostate by playing with the dials on
the console. Both their sexy feet curled and flexed, testifying to the
sensations that were driving them. Their fingers scrabbled helplessly behind
their backs.
When Michael finally could not stand the tickling against his prostrate and over
his tortured dick head anymore, his cock tip expanded obscenely allowing me a
greater surface on which to twirl the maddening bristles. Then, after having
brought him to this point several times for almost an hour, I kept the bristles
whizzing on his circumcision scar and flange until he erupted with nine long,
copious spurts of white spunk that squirted upwards because of the wicked curve
of his cock. The first two bolts shot up and hit Susan's cunt, melding in with
the juices that dripped non-stop from her cunny and back into Michael's own
mouth. I used one hand to roll his pointy tits, and the let the wicked little
bristles on the fingertips of my other hand continue to dance on his prick knob
making his hips jerk wildly to void the awful sensitivity.
Susan must have been sympatico with him, because the moment he shot scum she
burst into a long series of orgasms from the scratching bristles. I couldn't
keep track of how many times she came. She started immediately to contract her
pussy muscles around the horrible bristles, and after ten, I just stopped
counting and let the parade continue. She was young and horny, and her cunt
betrayed her from the moment the bristles began to work their magic.
As I later rolled Michael's dancing tongue away from Susan's cunt and turned off
the dials, I could see that she had drenched his face, her legs, and the floor
between her legs with a copious flow of cunt juice. I left Michael to his
devices in the next room, the little probe up his butthole working now only on
batteries, but still able to keep his attention and make his dick grow stiff
again. But for Susan, I sat down in a chair in front of her, now using my
little bristle pad finger glove to tweak and toy with her now freed tits, and to
search out her exhausted clit for some final treatment. I just had to feel
those cunt muscles grip my fingers a few times as I finger banged her for the
fun of it. I took off her gag, and listened to the sweet music from her mouth:
"Aaaaaaaaggggghhhhh....noooooo, nooo, please stop.....aaaaaaahhhhhh, my cunt,
oh, no, not there....aaaaaaaagggghhhh.....stop, oh jesus, oh my god,
oooooooohhhhh nnnnnoooooo....not again....not
again....aaaaahhhhhhh....AAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE.....!"
Over the next couple of days, those kids shot more juice than I thought humanly
possible. I spent one night just alternately tickling their spread-eagled
bodies and masturbating them until they basically passed out. But bless their
sweet young hearts, they were ready by the next morning, after a shower and a
good meal. By the end of the week, Michael was on his way to Brazil strapped
into a cage, gagged, erect and dildoed for the journey. He pleaded through his
gag, his eyes begging me not to betray our bargain, reflecting a wild eyed look
of terror realizing that he was going somewhere other than back to the freeway I
had promised. He was to live in the interior with a Brazilian couple that
wanted a handsome and sexually insatiable young man for revels at their estate
far from neighbors and authorities in the Amazon basin. There the special
skills of the native people, and their special potions would raise the
unsuspecting boy from Utah to a whole new level of sexual consciousness. Susan
was bound in an "X" frame for a trip to Malaya. She was blinfolded, gagged,
and dildoed both front and back for her journey. A Chinese plantation owner
who had his own fascinating ideas about how to make young girls shoot their wad
repeatedly had paid a pretty premium for her. He wanted her kept horny but
unsatisfied for the five day journey so that when she arrived, he would be able
to start with a "bang" so to speak.
For my part, I was about to entertain a young twenty year old Marine from Corpus
Christi whose family in North Carolina had not much contact with him, and a
sweet young girl of eighteen who met him at the beach on a summer vacation
fling with college girl friends. But that is the next chapter in my story about
folks who have the itch and the ways I've learned to both satisfy their needs
and wrest control of their lives.
