Adhering to his own rules, Jack squeezed a drop of lube onto his fingers, and began to work it into me, first with one finger, then two, then three. Then I heard the rip of a condom packet, and my body tensed with the familiar sound of imminent satisfaction.
‘Stand.’ Jack whispered his words with a demanding hiss, as I clambered up clumsily, restricted by my bound wrists and lack of vision. I felt his cool hands manoeuvre me across the room, before he bellowed Basic Rules no.16 and 17, ‘Bend over, bitch. Now!’
I bent, finding myself supported by the arm of a chair. My legs trembled as I braced myself for his invasion into my body, which I guessed would be rough and hard.
Nothing happened. Stillness came over the room, and as the seconds passed I began to panic. Maybe it hadn’t been a condom packet I’d heard? Was Jack even still in the room? What was he doing? Should I open my eyes and see where he was? My mind raced and my dry throat felt raw as my stiff shoulders knotted further with the unexpected wait for action.
After what seemed an age, I heard another rip, as if something was being removed from tight packaging. ‘I went shopping this morning.’ Jack’s tone was hoarse with want, ‘I bought something I want to see up your arse.’
A frisson of fear crept over my spine.
‘Would you like to see what it is?’
Despite my uncertainly I muttered, ‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Very well, as you’ve been such a good boy you can open your eyes.’
As my vision adjusted to the dim light of the room, I focused on the object that the still-clothed, but obviously very turned-on Jack, waved in front of my face. I was instantly torn between relief that it wasn’t a horsetail or a spiked dildo, and panic at the size of the incredibly thick rubber shaft that Jack cradled reverently in his hands, before obeying Basic Rule no.3 and smearing its length with lube.
Obviously I’ve dreamt of the perfect dick, the massive cock that would fill every inch of me, but this was something else. Nine inches of solid black rubber. It must have been over two inches thick, and I could tell by the way that Jack was holding it, that it was heavy. My eyes literally began to water as I contemplated having Jack ram that thing into my anus. I’d been shagged by big blokes before, but this was going to hurt.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Jack interrupted my words before they even escaped my lips with a stinging palm slap to my butt.
‘Remember the Basic Rules, Rob.’ He produced a copy of the list, and held it up for me to see. ‘Read Rule no. 14 out loud.’
My voice quavered as I recited, ‘Expect to have to accommodate candles, dildos and fake horse tails, as well as his dick/her strap-on.’
Jack nodded with satisfaction. ‘That’s better. Now, shall we begin?’
I said nothing, my mind still refusing to see how my body would take such a thick rubber cock. My back passage tightened involuntarily at the mere thought.
As Jack lined the head of his new toy up against me, I struggled to calm my uneven breathing, closing my eyes again, unbidden this time, in an effort to concentrate.
Jack pushed, and the dildo crept into me a few centimetres. The sweat that had been dotting my forehead broke out properly, prickling my scalp and developing a sheen across my back. He shoved harder, and I gulped as my stomach cramped in accordance with Basic Rule no. 7. Then, blissfully, Jack slid a hand around my torso and grasped my cock, making me groan with semi-relief. Playing his fingers up and down my shaft, sometimes vigorously, sometimes with a teasing gentleness, he helped me to relax enough for him to drive the length a little further into my puckering channel.
I knew I couldn’t take much more of this. Jack must have known it too, for he began to intensify his movements, forcing the dildo deeper and harder into me. My muscles cried out and my gut contracted and churned. I groaned and whimpered as I was opened wider and wider, my imagination filling with the picture my invaded backside must have created.
Basic Rules no. 4 and 13 from the list flew into my mind, and I suddenly feared that my bowels would spill as Jack kept urging the tool on. Would my skin split? This was brutal, and yet I knew that if he’d stopped now, I would have been more disappointed than relieved.
As Jack increased his pressure on my dick, with one sharp thrust, he plunged the remaining length of the dildo violently into me. With nothing to bite into, I adhered to Jack’s Basic Rule no. 12, and screamed. I mean really screamed. My skin was pulling, and my muscles wrenched against the dragging weight of the rubber, as it was finally lodged securely in place.
Fuller than I had ever been, stretched to glorious, agonising capacity, with Jack still rubbing my cock, I couldn’t hold on any longer, and released a long pent up yell. Asking through gritted teeth, just a little too late, for permission to come, I shot hot spunk across the armchair.
As Jack let go of me, my body shuddered and quivered, and I slumped against the furniture.
‘Open your eyes.’ Jack spoke quietly, and I opened them in time to see him strip before me. His beautiful dick, thick and hard, sprang up at me, and the freckles that had haunted me the night before assailed my blurred vision. They were everywhere.
Hastily, Jack untied my aching arms, all dominance gone, as I rubbed some circulation back into my shoulders. ‘You look fantastic with that up your arse. How does it feel?’
I murmured into his face, ‘Incredible, mind-blowing, excruciating, wonderful.’
‘You’re amazing.’ Jack kissed me, viciously, passionately, and I returned the gesture as he carefully eased the plug from my butt. Tears of pain gathered at the corners of my eyes, as the new toy dropped to the floor, and Jack dabbed my sore bruised arse with a cotton handkerchief.
When my ragged breathing began to steady, I pointedly regarded Jack’s straining dick, and with a half smile said, ‘I think it’s your turn now. I don’t suppose you have a felt-tip pen around here somewhere?’
Jack frowned, puzzled at my request, but his eyes shone with desire, ‘Yes I have, why?’
‘I know it isn’t on your Basic Rules list or anything, but do you fancy a game of dot-to-dot?’
Safe And Sound
by Alex K. Bell
Muted sounds echoed around my head, only sometimes making sense, as I faded in and out of consciousness: strange scraping noises, sporadic crackles on a radio, soft drawn-out footsteps, and then an intense rushing sound, which unnerved me for a while, until I worked out it was the wind, which based on the flapping of the blankets wrapped tightly around me, was blowing up a storm.
I struggled desperately to recall where I was, and what I’d been doing, but came up with nothing. An intense throbbing grew inside my head, pounding my senses mercilessly, until I could take no more, and I fell into blackness.
By the time I came around again, my mind was racing, desperately trying to sort an overload of information, which was flooding back at an incredible rate. Fragmented images flashed across my mind, and facts, and maps and warnings competing at once for my attention. My head jerked side to side, as I desperately tried to make sense of it, and my body shook uncontrollably, until finally, mercifully, the blackness took me again.
I stirred suddenly, and feeling water beneath me, kicked out wildly, no comprehension of my surroundings, desperately trying to find purchase, to push myself to safety. Then success, as my foot found a thin hard edge. I locked my leg quickly, and forced myself upwards.
‘Shhhhh, shhh, shhh, shhh there, son, it’s OK ... you’re OK,’ came a deep soothing voice, close to my ear, which only served to confuse me more.
I kicked and writhed and twisted as best I could, but strong arms held me tight, and kept me still, until exhausted, my arms and legs stopped fighting, and I gave in, finally opening my eyes.
As the deep tones attempted to comfort and reassure me once more, my eyes flitted around a tiny shack, quickly taking in the fiercely roaring fire, the crude timber beds, and the mountain of electrical equipment in the far corner. Finally, my gaze dropped down, to look directly benea
th me, where an old-fashioned iron bath sat, teeming with hot water, steam forming where the heat met the cool air of the room. Beside it was a freshly-boiled kettle, ready to top it up.
Partly because I’d convinced myself I was safe, but mostly because every bit of energy had disappeared from my body, I relaxed, and my body went limp. The big stranger holding me felt this, and he finished lowering me downwards, placing my torso ever so slowly and gently into the bath, the water immediately soothing and comforting my aching body. I let out a sigh of relief and of satisfaction, as the warmth enveloped me, only then realising how cold I was, and how much I was shaking. I had another panic attack, as more memories flooded back, causing my body to jerk and splash uncontrollably.
‘Hey, hey, hey,’ he said calmly, draping a towel around my shoulders. ‘You’re OK, son,’ he assured, stroking a friendly hand on my head. ‘You’re safe and sound now.’ His soft rich American voice calmed me immediately this time. Once I’d settled again, he slipped some thick towels between the back of my knees and the hard metal edge of the bath, making them more comfortable.
‘Can’t warm these yet,’ he said quietly, doing the same with my arms, tucking towels under my armpits, then letting them ease back down. ‘Not until your core’s had a chance to warm up. Pushing cold blood from your arms and legs back into your torso can do some pretty bad things – after-drop the hypothermia books call it.’
I had to take his word for it. I was almost too exhausted to think. My torso slumping softly against the raised metal back of the bath, my head falling back to rest on a rolled-up towel considerately draped there. The sound of the fire crackling in the background, and the water sploshing softly against my chest was starting to soothe me. Then, in the click of a magician’s fingers, my body went completely limp, and my eye-lids grew very heavy. I was aware of him talking somewhere in the background, but the words didn’t stick, becoming less and less tangible with each heavy blink, until I fell into a deep, deep sleep.
My eye-lids twitched and I started to wake. I don’t know how long I’d been out, maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour. But however long it was, it had definitely done me good. I knew that because I could now feel the pain deep in my limbs, as I flexed and stretched them. What was more positive was that the shaking from earlier had almost completely gone.
My gaze drifted to the fireplace, where my rescuer was throwing fresh logs onto the fire. The thick cold timber subdued the flames at first, but soon started to yield, as flames licked up around them, especially after he stoked the heart of the fire with a poker. As the flames grew, I used the flickering light to pick out his shape.
He was big, much bigger than me, and much bigger than the guys I usually go for. In many ways, he looked like an archetypal woodsman from a fairytale: tall; jet black hair; rugged face with accompanying chiselled chin; broad chest and shoulders; and arms – what arms.
An image popped into my head, of him striking a tree with an axe, felling it with just a handful of thunderous strikes. A fantasy figure definitely! It was while I considered this, my eyes darting all over his body, that I realised I was sporting a significant hard-on, thankfully for now hidden beneath the surface of the water.
Suddenly he turned, and caught me watching him. I was a bit embarrassed for a moment, until he smiled simply, and then walked over to me, clutching a freshly boiled kettle full of water.
‘Should be fine now,’ he said, placing the kettle to one side for a moment, then carefully lifting one of my legs, and placing it into the warm welcoming water. As I let out a long contented sigh, he did the same with the other leg, and then my arms. Because there wasn’t enough room to straighten my legs, I kept them bent, my knees poking up through the water’s surface.
‘Watch your legs!’ he urged, lifting the kettle over the foot of the bath. I complied, pulling my feet right back, until my heels pushed against my bum, only then registering that he’d placed me in the bath completely naked, and that at some point previous to that, had stripped me naked.
He carefully emptied the contents of the kettle into the water, sending out wonderful flows of heat that wrapped deliciously around my bare flesh, further soothing it.
‘So what crazy urge lands an English kid like you 10,000 feet up, on one of the worst February days in Sawatch Range history, son?’ he asked, picking up a thick cloth from the side, and dipping it into the water.
I started to explain about my University course, studying Applied and Environmental Geology, and my industry-funded gap-year project documenting evolving extreme climates, but became distracted almost immediately when he began to run the hot, water-soaked cloth along one of my arms, water dripping noisily from it as he twisted and squeezed the cloth around my tender skin.
He nodded politely as I continued talking, squeezing the cloth tightly in his huge hand, straining the water from it, then plunging it deep beneath the water’s surface, to soak up some more. This time, he drew the warm sopping cloth across my shoulder, firmly pressing along the tight muscles, sending, almost in slow-motion, rivulets of water dribbling down my chest and back. He stroked it back and forth along the top of my shoulder, then slid it up the side of my neck. Without realising, I tilted my head to the side, to give the cloth, and his hand, more access. The warmth of the water, and the rhythmic movements of his hand, made my mouth fall open, and I let out a deep satisfied moan.
‘Good?’ he asked, moving the cloth ever so slowly around the back of my neck to the other shoulder. I only managed to nod, mouth gaping still. Then he reached forward, dunking the cloth down in front of my chest, directly over my crotch, only narrowly missing my increasingly-stiffening cock, before pulling it back out, and stroking it in a seemingly sensuous motion, round and around my chest. My heart beat fast in my chest as he worked, so softly, so tenderly, despite his obvious strength and size.
‘Lucky for you your phone held out so long,’ he said softly, continuing the hypnotic circles on my chest, the edge of the cloth occasionally catching a nipple, making them stiffen. ‘Batteries held just long enough for me to hone in on you,’ he added, matter-of-factly. ‘Took close on two hours.’
My breathing grew heavy as his fingers worked, just the thin crushed cloth separating them from my wet naked flesh. After straining and rinsing the cloth a few times, he lifted it up and slipped it slowly across my face, perfectly moulding the warm cloth around my features. ‘Then another three hours ... maybe four, to get you back here.’ He dunked his hand down again, brushing against my twitching belly, achingly close this time to my cock. ‘No helicopters flying tonight, son. Not with the wind like it was.’
But I couldn’t think about helicopters, or rescue, or gratitude … all I wanted was for him to drop the cloth, reach down into the water, and wrap his strong fingers around my cock, which was now throbbing incessantly.
Instead, he dropped the cloth at my side, then eased my torso forward. After picking up the cloth again, water flowing freely from it, he slopped it onto my exposed back, then started to rub it firmly around. Using firm broad strokes, he smoothed his hand across each shoulder-blade, masterfully pushing away any tension, before tracing down the length of my spine, forcing the cloth quite a way beneath the water, where it brushed teasingly at the top of my bum. His body was close to mine, his manly scent, of hard earned sweat, and machinery oil, and the thick tangy odour of freshly cut mountain pines, was completely intoxicating. When finished, he returned my torso, to rest once more against the warm metal back of the bath.
My chest heaved almost uncontrollably now, as I fantasised about the two of us in an embrace: hands searching, lips kissing, buttons popping, hot flesh in hand, teasing, stroking, rubbing, wanking … then gasping lips parting, split by male flesh, mouth warm and inviting, cock pushing deeper and deeper inside.
At some point, I couldn’t remember when, I’d started to slide my hand along my cock, relishing the feel of it, enjoying my fingers wrapped tightly around it, tell-tale ripples and splashes on the water’s surf
ace telegraphing what I was doing.
He seemed not to notice, and stood up calmly. ‘You’re good to soak for a few minutes,’ he said, heading back to the fire, where he threw on a few more logs, enough to last us the night. ‘There are some towels on the seat beside you,’ he said quietly, ‘whenever you’re done.’
I closed my eyes, slowing my hand a little, as the new logs started to crack and spit as the flames rapidly took hold. I should be thinking about the bigger picture now, how lucky I was to be alive, how grateful I was for my rescue, how great it will be when I get to see my friends and family, but all I could think about was the stranger’s big hands just a few moments ago, stroking my chest with slow sensuous movements, water flowing and dribbling slowly from the cloth, the hard sewn edge just catching my nipples, making them visibly swell. I sighed to myself, imagining he was still doing it, and then pictured his hand plunging much deeper into the water, where he twisted the cloth between my belly and my cock, knowingly teasing me.
I imagined grabbing his wrist as it cleared the water, shaking it firmly until his grip was broken and he dropped the cloth, then I plunged his hand deep into the water, where his fingers automatically locked on to my throbbing manly flesh, stroking along its length, his hand slow, strong, experienced. I thrust my cock upwards, fucking it into his imaginary hand.
My eyes snapped open, and scanned the room. He was at one of the small beds, loading it with heavy sheets and quilts. I took in his body again, only this time more lustfully, and while stroking my cock. His muscles rippled and tensed beneath his tight shirt as he shook out the sheets, then tossed them across the bed. Then he gave me a perfect view of his tight bum as he stooped to tuck in the corners. I had no idea who he was, whether he was a hunter, or a ranger, or just someone who wanted to get away from it all, up here in the beautiful but hazardous mountains. But what I did know was that he was turning me on more than any man ever had. I wanted to make a move … I had to make a move.
Boy Fun, Four Book Bundle Page 9