Inspiration: here.
James hurled the folded newspaper he was holding into a black recycling bin. There was nothing new in there; forty pages of corruption, scandals and disasters. At the rate things were going, hardly anything in that shit was ‘news’. He stood by the pedestrian crossing at the head of Vindit Road and looked in both directions briefly before setting across the road at a brisk pace.
That newspaper was not a total waste, however. He sniggered to himself at the thought of a whole spread dedicated to the marriage of two American celebrities. What a stupid affair — and it was stupid that people would waste their time with such sappy tales. He didn’t like it — at all — but found these types of obsession a little strange and, if he had to admit, entertaining. It was quite out of place in a newspaper reporting a fatal car crash in London, children found in an abandoned van, a snake missing from a nearby reptile farm, and a murder in Fort Barnet Park.
James grunted slightly as his sizable Adidas gym bag swung heavily against his hips, nudging him slightly. It had been a gruelling day at practice and he was ready to hit the sheets. With the challenge of juggling rugby practice, school, work and his double life, the last three months brought him closer to total exhaustion. He let out a deep breath. He was going to have to tell his girlfriend the date they had planned during the weekend needed to be moved; coach wanted him to play in the 1st XV game on Saturday. He would have refused, but coach’s incessant stream of ‘you’re the best player on the team’ and ‘there’re gun’ be spotters there!’ left him little recourse but to accept.
‘Fuck this shit,’ he thought to himself.
The muscles in his body shook involuntarily as he moved through the neighbourhood in the darkening twilit night. He couldn’t wait to climb into bed and fall asleep. A long and deep rest was what his body needed after eight hours of constant running, hitting, and yelling. No, perhaps calling Sophie tonight was a bad idea; shifting a date a sixth time only meant further argument — and he lacked the energy to do so. Yes, Sophie was a problem for tomorrow.
He rounded the corner and headed down Morendig Street. The streetlamps bathed the street in a soft warm hue and the grass appeared black, the numerous apartment facades a light but dull orange. James’s pace slowed. There was movement in the distance. His brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing. The face was hard to make out in the poor lighting, but the shimmer of lusciously thick blond hair was familiar — very familiar. James felt a grin creep onto his face. As the figure approached, his dark eyes roamed down her torso. He lingered on her ample bosoms, her narrow waist, and her wide hips. James instinctively bit down on his lower lip. He felt himself twitch under his blue Barngrove RFC shorts. He cursed at himself silently; he shouldn’t have removed his boxers after practice no matter how sweat-drenched they were.
As her figure became clearer, random moments from the past three moments flashed across his mind: the quiet walk in St. Mary’s park; the dinner at Robert’s Diner; fingering her in an empty cinema; the top of her head as she sucked him off in the locker room; asking her to be his girlfriend; and, his favourite memory, fucking her hard on his sofa after a match. Her pleading moans of euphoria echoed in his ears. James’s eyes twitched involuntarily as he felt himself grow harder.
“Fuck!” he said under his breath. If the matter was left unattended, his semi would quickly be visible through his shorts. He crossed his palms over his crotch.
“Hey James,” she said. But her soft sultry voice only exacerbated the situation; James blinked slowly as he felt himself pushing his right palm down on the rising pressure through the thin fabric of his shorts.
“Hey,” he said.
She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and raised her lips to his. Her lips lingered on his as she sucked and pulled on his lower lip. James made sure to keep his hands over his growing boner.
“Shit,” he whispered as she pulled away. “I missed you, babe.”
“Yeah?” she smirked. “Me too.” She paused, taking his features in. “Have you told her?”
Damn! He tried to give an imperceptible shake of his head, but this did not go unnoticed.
“James —”
“I’m sorry, Chris! I’ve been really busy,” he pleaded, wrapping his arms around her waist. He froze as his predicament become apparent with his semi pressing against her groin. He backed away from her.
“Sorry,” he said, scratching his neck.
James didn’t bother to cover the bulge in his shorts as Christina’s eyes roamed down his body. Her eyes settled on his crotch.
“Hard, eh?” she said, winking.
Faster than he could react, Christina reached down and grabbed his hardening member.
“Fuck!’ he shuddered. She rubbed James in her hands as his head fell backwards, his eyes rolling up. Shudders shot through his body as he luxuriated in her grasp. “Hmm…that feels really good.” Slowly, James began to gyrate his hips as he started to grind into her hand. The muscles in his thighs shook as the strain in his crotch grew even more intense.
Christina smiled darkly as she watched her boyfriend dry hump her hand. James’s cock was now fully hard and straining against his tight shorts. She leaned forward and whispered, “you aren’t wearing underwear? Naughty.” James moaned as his ears warmed from her moist breath, his chest tingling. She chuckled as his cock twitched in her hand.
“Want me to go down on you?” she asked. James gave a quick nod. “Want me to help you cum?”
“Oh…fuck, yeah,” he said. Christina tightened her hold on James. He grunted at the new pressure on his cock and slowed his pace. “Yeah…fuck — that feels so good, babe.” His throbbing cock was pleasured by the warmth of Christina’s hand through his shorts. His tip dampened. He was about to speed up his grinding when the hold on his cock was suddenly released, like he had pulled it out of her without realizing it. A slight breeze passed over him. His eyes flickered open as Christina walked past him. “Hey —”
“If you want more, tell her,” she said as she retreated into the night.
“Fuck!” he cursed, looking down at the tent in his shorts. His house was several buildings ahead. He surveyed the neighbouring buildings; most of the houses either had their curtains drawn together or had their lights out. However, there were a few — in close proximity to his building — that had their window curtains drawn apart and still showed signs their occupants were awake. Would the neighbours see him? Could they see him? After all, the light on the street was not that bright. He looked down at the tent his hard cock was pitching in his shorts. No, this could be seen even in the poorest light. He could remain where he was and wait for this boner to subside, but this idea was also swiftly dismissed: a guy just standing still in the middle of the street sporting a massive boner in his shorts — how could that not be suspicious? He placed his right palm over the stretched navy fabric and tried pushing his cock down, but this too was of little use. If anything, the touch of his warms hands only made his cock twitch, hardening even more. He was going to have to chance it. With one hand cupped over his tent, he set off down the street with a quick pace.
James gave a relieved sigh as he reached the driveway to his house. Nobody had seen him (hopefully), but the situation had not abated; the moving fabric of his shorts, and the fact they were pretty tight on his thighs, only aroused him further. His hand dropped to his side, showing the tent in his rugby shorts. However, his relief was short-lived; the lights on his neighbour’s porch flickered on as the front door swung open.
“Fuck!” James cursed, speeding up to his front door. He fumbled around in his gym bag for his keys as a dark-haired middle-aged man with light-framed glasses stepped out onto the lit porch.
“James!” the man greeted, just as his clasped around the cold jaggered metal.
“Dean!” James called back.
“How was practice?” Dean asked.
“Tiring as fuck.” He jammed his keys into the keyhole and begged the frequently faulty lock not to act up now. But he had no such luck; his hand met resistance as he tried turning the key.
“I bet it was,” Dean said, coming off his porch and toward his car which, to James’s dismay, was right next to his front door. He tried his key again. “It used to be five or six-hour drills for me back when I was younger. Glad those days are behind me now.”
James chuckled uncomfortably as Dean approached. Noticing the approaching shadow out of the corner of his eye, he turned his waist away from the approaching man.
“Yeah,” James said, attempting to keep his voice level, “but it keeps me fit, so I can’t complain.”
“I guess not!” Dean laughed. He unlocked his car door and pulled it open. “Is something wrong? You seem a little tense.”
“No, no — I’m great.”
He surveyed James for a moment. Then, Dean’s eyes settled on the bulge James was trying hard to hide from him. He chuckled, gesturing at James’s boner “No worries there, mate. Just don’t think about it.” Dean got into his car, giving James a final wave before it reversed out of the driveway and sped off into the night.
“Bastard,” James said. The temperature was dropping and he was looking forward to enjoying the warmth of his apartment. Having closed the windows before leaving earlier, heat from the day would surely have the place warm and welcoming for him. There was a ‘click’ as the lock turned. He rolled his eyes; the door had to resist him and waited for him to be embarrassed before allowing him in. He stepped into the cool darkness as the door swung shut behind him. He dropped his gym bag by the door without a glance and kicked off his shoes, leaving his black no show socks on. He grabbed his hard cock through his shorts and squeezed; there was no way his boner was going to go away without jerking off. There was a rush within him, especially now: as much as he wanted to deny it, being caught with a boner by Dean had made the situation more exhilarating. He never knew there was an exhibitionist side to him.
James switched the light on as he entered his living room, still giving his tent regular squeezes. There was no doubt now he was fully hard. He debated if he should remove his shorts; they were very tight around his thighs, especially now his cock was trying to stretch the fabric further. The feeling of the cool navy polyester on his rock-hard cock had him quickly deciding against it. He shut the windows and stood by the sofa, folding the large dark red throw he found by the furniture back. He continued rubbing his length through his shorts. His brown eyes rolled upwards and his head fell back.
“Oh…fuck,” he groaned. His eyes flew open; he had an idea — one that made his cock twitch with added excitement. In a few short movements, James had grabbed his phone, created a new message to Christina, turned the camera on and propped it up by a mug on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He grinned, ecstasy and lust coursing through his body; what could be more fun, and arousing, than recording himself jerking off and sending it to Christina? She had teased him badly, it was only fair he returned the favour. He set the app to send the video when the recording ended and hit the record button.
“Like my bulge, babe?” he whispered, standing. He thrust his crotch forward, accentuating the tent in his navy rugby shorts. He lifted the front of his jersey and exposed his abs, running his hand over it. He flexed his cock, making the tent in his shorts jump. “See what you did to me?”
He lifted one leg of his shorts and ran his hands over his thick thighs, which now glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He knew Christina loved his thighs. During a date on one occasion, she had constantly rubbed and squeezed his thighs while sitting in a public park, whispering in a moist voice, “I want to lick them so bad, babe.” He had gotten so hard he refused to stand until his boner had subsided.
He pushed the tent down with his palms, making the outline of his throbbing dick more visible. There was a barely visible dark spot on the front of his shorts where his tip had started to moisten. “Wish you were here…I’d fuck you so hard,” he said. His eyes rolled back again as he imagined Christina kneeling in front of him, his touch was her touch, every sensation he felt caused by her.
“Oh…” he moaned. He imagined her rubbing her soft thumbs over the tip of his tent, aggravating his sensitive tip. Sharp jolts raced through his body as he rubbed his thumb over his tent in small circular motions. His brows furrowed and his jaw fell open as images of her slowly and delicately rubbing his shaft flashed through his mind. His hands mimicked the mental images. Strong though he was, James’s thighs shuddered. Sweat rolled down his meaty legs and onto his black no show socks, which were now becoming damp.
With his palm pointing his hard cock downwards, he could feel his tip just about peeking out from below the hem of his shorts. The cool air flowed around this warm hard cock, making it throb. “Baby…” he breathed, “can you see it?” He raised the hem of his shorts just enough, so the camera recorded the head of his rock-hard cock poking out from the bottom of his navy rugby shorts. James flexed it slightly for the camera. “I’m so hard for you. I can’t wait to fuck you so hard.”
He lowered himself onto the sofa, spreading his legs. The thought of Christina seeing his huge thighs while stroking himself through his shorts was enough to elicit a low growl from his throat. He pushed the coffee table back with his feet, so the camera could record him with his black no show socks on; Christina had described them as ‘making his sexy feet way fucking hotter’. His eyelids fell as he returned to his imagination. He pictured every stroke, every squeeze and every movement on his hard-throbbing member as perpetrated by her. He moaned her name, one hand roaming over his chest and abs. His skin was now assuredly damp and glistening with sweat.
Then, he felt it: a gentle fluttering which disturbed the hairs on his leg. James opened his eyes and leaned forward, one hand still stroking himself. There, by his right feet, was a small slip of paper. He frowned. Where had that come from? He reached down and retrieved the small piece paper. It had jaggered edges, as though it had been torn carelessly from the pages of a book. The writing was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.
‘I have my vengeance, and you will pay. Goodbye.
-S.’
James froze mid-stroke, his clothed boner held firmly in his grasp. There was something deeply disconcerting about the note. Who had put it here? Had someone broken in? He would have gotten up to investigate had he not still been keen on cumming first, or not heard the soft rustling from his right. James turned. Something was moving under the throw he had folded back — and it was moving toward him. With his free hand, he lifted the brown polyester.
It was too fast — too fast for any human to jump back or out of the way. An olive-green scaled triangular head launched forward, its mouth wide open, bearing its rouge flesh and rows of sharp white teeth all curved backwards. James felt a sting as the anaconda’s jaw found its target on his right bicep. He screamed as the massive length of the snake rapidly coiled around him, tightening its hold on him with every coil.
“Fuck!” he cried, trembling heavily as the serpent’s scales slithered around his damp skin. There was a sharp shooting pain in his crotch as the snake’s coils forced his tented cock downwards. “Help…please help me,” he groaned. James attempted to flex his arms and legs in an attempt to loosen the coils around his abdomen, but to no avail; the snake’s strength was too great. The air — the life, was being squeezed out of him. The thumping in his blood vessels, the throbbing of the blood rushing into his hard cock, was all-encompassing.
The anaconda raised its head and surveyed James. With his lips quivering and his head shaking from uncontrollable fear, he looked into the yellow eyes of his attacker. For a brief moment, nothing happened; the predator was pensively considering its prey. Then, James felt the coils loosening slightly. He took in a deep gulp of air as the pressure on his chest and abdomen was released. He was going to live. Yes — the snake did not want to eat him. He felt his erected cock rise and settle between the remaining coils. With difficulty, he moved his hand within the coil and rubbed his tip, trying to ease the pain.
His relief, however, was short-lived. A low hissing caused him to look upwards. The anaconda’s jaws were stretched wide open, descending towards his head rapidly, enveloping it whole. James screamed in horror, his eyes wide open and his mouth wide, as his head was enveloped in darkness. Sharp shooting pain erupted where the serpent’s teeth punctured his skin. The screams of terror were unrelenting even as the snake pushed its body forward, devouring more and more of the thick human body. James was squeezed into the snake’s throat. His muscled arms were pushed into his side. The tightness of the reptile’s digestive track was heightened with his attempts to thrash about in a desperate (and vain) attempt to save himself. The lining of the snake’s digestive tract pushed against his skin, lubricating it. His wails of despair and pleas for help were nothing more than muffled yells issuing from the anaconda’s body.
James’s legs flailed frenziedly. His abject fear of getting eaten alive effected flatulence which escaped through the space in his shorts. He braced his palms over his crotch, in an attempt to protect his throbbing member from the force of the serpent’s teeth. He spread his thighs apart and bent his knees, anchoring himself against the sides of the anaconda’s jaw; perhaps with a push he might pull himself from the snake’s jaws. Strong though his legs were, the pain of his flesh pushing into the snake’s curved teeth had him quickly abandoning his escape. James screamed as the anaconda raised the front of its body, its head tilted upward; with a few short shakes of its head, the serpent gulped down James’s waist and thighs. The unexpectedly soft tissue lining the walls of the snake’s digestive system displaced his palms. Inadvertently, James let out a muffled groan of pleasure through his terrified shrills as the massive bulge in his shorts pushed into the surrounding soft tissue. Had he not been getting devoured by a massive snake, he would have noted the sensation differed not too greatly from pushing his cock into Christina; the more he struggled, the more pleasure he felt in his crotch.
Soon, all that could be seen of James were the lower half of his legs and his socked feet, both of which were trembling as though they were chilled by some cold force. His cries of terror and anguish softened into sobs of defeat, which were all but silent to the outside world. He was going to die. The long olive-green body twisted, its jaw stretched. With a final gulp, James’s struggling legs and feet were consumed whole. The hem of one of his black no show Adidas socks caught on one of the curved teeth but was quickly unhinged as his feet descended into the snake’s dark throat. The anaconda gave a final yawn, relocating its jaw after its first meal in more than six months. It would not have to feed for some time.
The anaconda’s already sizeable body now featured a human-shaped bulge, which still seemed to struggle. Muffled screams and shouts still emanated from the muscular devoured body but was heard by nobody. James was abandoned to his fate. The snake’s intestines constricted, forcing James’s body further down its digestive tract. The constrictive environment of the snake’s intestines forced his feet to point downwards. His navy rugby kit and tight black socks now fully damp with digestive fluids. He gasped as the walls of the snake’s organs pressed against his face, suffocating him. ‘No! Please! Someone, help!’ he thought desperately; there was no air by which he could scream. But it was no good. He let out a final tortured scream of anguish as his dark eyes rolled upwards. His meaty arms were limp and squeezed into his sides, the tremors and shakes of his legs and feet subsided. His still erected cock gave a final twitch before his thick and well-built body fell still. James was dead.
The house was silent, nothing moved. Then, there was a soft ‘ding!’. James’s phone had reached its maximum recording time. The video was saved and sent to Christina, as the phone’s devoured owner had intended several moments earlier.
And in a neat, two-storey blue house several streets away, two girls stretched out on a large four-poster bed burst into howls of laughter, their heads bent over a single phone resting between them — a phone playing a video of a well-built rugby player being devoured by a snake.
Revenge was sweet — very sweet indeed…
James hurled the folded newspaper he was holding into a black recycling bin. There was nothing new in there; forty pages of corruption, scandals and disasters. At the rate things were going, hardly anything in that shit was ‘news’. He stood by the pedestrian crossing at the head of Vindit Road and looked in both directions briefly before setting across the road at a brisk pace.
That newspaper was not a total waste, however. He sniggered to himself at the thought of a whole spread dedicated to the marriage of two American celebrities. What a stupid affair — and it was stupid that people would waste their time with such sappy tales. He didn’t like it — at all — but found these types of obsession a little strange and, if he had to admit, entertaining. It was quite out of place in a newspaper reporting a fatal car crash in London, children found in an abandoned van, a snake missing from a nearby reptile farm, and a murder in Fort Barnet Park.
James grunted slightly as his sizable Adidas gym bag swung heavily against his hips, nudging him slightly. It had been a gruelling day at practice and he was ready to hit the sheets. With the challenge of juggling rugby practice, school, work and his double life, the last three months brought him closer to total exhaustion. He let out a deep breath. He was going to have to tell his girlfriend the date they had planned during the weekend needed to be moved; coach wanted him to play in the 1st XV game on Saturday. He would have refused, but coach’s incessant stream of ‘you’re the best player on the team’ and ‘there’re gun’ be spotters there!’ left him little recourse but to accept.
‘Fuck this shit,’ he thought to himself.
The muscles in his body shook involuntarily as he moved through the neighbourhood in the darkening twilit night. He couldn’t wait to climb into bed and fall asleep. A long and deep rest was what his body needed after eight hours of constant running, hitting, and yelling. No, perhaps calling Sophie tonight was a bad idea; shifting a date a sixth time only meant further argument — and he lacked the energy to do so. Yes, Sophie was a problem for tomorrow.
He rounded the corner and headed down Morendig Street. The streetlamps bathed the street in a soft warm hue and the grass appeared black, the numerous apartment facades a light but dull orange. James’s pace slowed. There was movement in the distance. His brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing. The face was hard to make out in the poor lighting, but the shimmer of lusciously thick blond hair was familiar — very familiar. James felt a grin creep onto his face. As the figure approached, his dark eyes roamed down her torso. He lingered on her ample bosoms, her narrow waist, and her wide hips. James instinctively bit down on his lower lip. He felt himself twitch under his blue Barngrove RFC shorts. He cursed at himself silently; he shouldn’t have removed his boxers after practice no matter how sweat-drenched they were.
As her figure became clearer, random moments from the past three moments flashed across his mind: the quiet walk in St. Mary’s park; the dinner at Robert’s Diner; fingering her in an empty cinema; the top of her head as she sucked him off in the locker room; asking her to be his girlfriend; and, his favourite memory, fucking her hard on his sofa after a match. Her pleading moans of euphoria echoed in his ears. James’s eyes twitched involuntarily as he felt himself grow harder.
“Fuck!” he said under his breath. If the matter was left unattended, his semi would quickly be visible through his shorts. He crossed his palms over his crotch.
“Hey James,” she said. But her soft sultry voice only exacerbated the situation; James blinked slowly as he felt himself pushing his right palm down on the rising pressure through the thin fabric of his shorts.
“Hey,” he said.
She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and raised her lips to his. Her lips lingered on his as she sucked and pulled on his lower lip. James made sure to keep his hands over his growing boner.
“Shit,” he whispered as she pulled away. “I missed you, babe.”
“Yeah?” she smirked. “Me too.” She paused, taking his features in. “Have you told her?”
Damn! He tried to give an imperceptible shake of his head, but this did not go unnoticed.
“James —”
“I’m sorry, Chris! I’ve been really busy,” he pleaded, wrapping his arms around her waist. He froze as his predicament become apparent with his semi pressing against her groin. He backed away from her.
“Sorry,” he said, scratching his neck.
James didn’t bother to cover the bulge in his shorts as Christina’s eyes roamed down his body. Her eyes settled on his crotch.
“Hard, eh?” she said, winking.
Faster than he could react, Christina reached down and grabbed his hardening member.
“Fuck!’ he shuddered. She rubbed James in her hands as his head fell backwards, his eyes rolling up. Shudders shot through his body as he luxuriated in her grasp. “Hmm…that feels really good.” Slowly, James began to gyrate his hips as he started to grind into her hand. The muscles in his thighs shook as the strain in his crotch grew even more intense.
Christina smiled darkly as she watched her boyfriend dry hump her hand. James’s cock was now fully hard and straining against his tight shorts. She leaned forward and whispered, “you aren’t wearing underwear? Naughty.” James moaned as his ears warmed from her moist breath, his chest tingling. She chuckled as his cock twitched in her hand.
“Want me to go down on you?” she asked. James gave a quick nod. “Want me to help you cum?”
“Oh…fuck, yeah,” he said. Christina tightened her hold on James. He grunted at the new pressure on his cock and slowed his pace. “Yeah…fuck — that feels so good, babe.” His throbbing cock was pleasured by the warmth of Christina’s hand through his shorts. His tip dampened. He was about to speed up his grinding when the hold on his cock was suddenly released, like he had pulled it out of her without realizing it. A slight breeze passed over him. His eyes flickered open as Christina walked past him. “Hey —”
“If you want more, tell her,” she said as she retreated into the night.
“Fuck!” he cursed, looking down at the tent in his shorts. His house was several buildings ahead. He surveyed the neighbouring buildings; most of the houses either had their curtains drawn together or had their lights out. However, there were a few — in close proximity to his building — that had their window curtains drawn apart and still showed signs their occupants were awake. Would the neighbours see him? Could they see him? After all, the light on the street was not that bright. He looked down at the tent his hard cock was pitching in his shorts. No, this could be seen even in the poorest light. He could remain where he was and wait for this boner to subside, but this idea was also swiftly dismissed: a guy just standing still in the middle of the street sporting a massive boner in his shorts — how could that not be suspicious? He placed his right palm over the stretched navy fabric and tried pushing his cock down, but this too was of little use. If anything, the touch of his warms hands only made his cock twitch, hardening even more. He was going to have to chance it. With one hand cupped over his tent, he set off down the street with a quick pace.
James gave a relieved sigh as he reached the driveway to his house. Nobody had seen him (hopefully), but the situation had not abated; the moving fabric of his shorts, and the fact they were pretty tight on his thighs, only aroused him further. His hand dropped to his side, showing the tent in his rugby shorts. However, his relief was short-lived; the lights on his neighbour’s porch flickered on as the front door swung open.
“Fuck!” James cursed, speeding up to his front door. He fumbled around in his gym bag for his keys as a dark-haired middle-aged man with light-framed glasses stepped out onto the lit porch.
“James!” the man greeted, just as his clasped around the cold jaggered metal.
“Dean!” James called back.
“How was practice?” Dean asked.
“Tiring as fuck.” He jammed his keys into the keyhole and begged the frequently faulty lock not to act up now. But he had no such luck; his hand met resistance as he tried turning the key.
“I bet it was,” Dean said, coming off his porch and toward his car which, to James’s dismay, was right next to his front door. He tried his key again. “It used to be five or six-hour drills for me back when I was younger. Glad those days are behind me now.”
James chuckled uncomfortably as Dean approached. Noticing the approaching shadow out of the corner of his eye, he turned his waist away from the approaching man.
“Yeah,” James said, attempting to keep his voice level, “but it keeps me fit, so I can’t complain.”
“I guess not!” Dean laughed. He unlocked his car door and pulled it open. “Is something wrong? You seem a little tense.”
“No, no — I’m great.”
He surveyed James for a moment. Then, Dean’s eyes settled on the bulge James was trying hard to hide from him. He chuckled, gesturing at James’s boner “No worries there, mate. Just don’t think about it.” Dean got into his car, giving James a final wave before it reversed out of the driveway and sped off into the night.
“Bastard,” James said. The temperature was dropping and he was looking forward to enjoying the warmth of his apartment. Having closed the windows before leaving earlier, heat from the day would surely have the place warm and welcoming for him. There was a ‘click’ as the lock turned. He rolled his eyes; the door had to resist him and waited for him to be embarrassed before allowing him in. He stepped into the cool darkness as the door swung shut behind him. He dropped his gym bag by the door without a glance and kicked off his shoes, leaving his black no show socks on. He grabbed his hard cock through his shorts and squeezed; there was no way his boner was going to go away without jerking off. There was a rush within him, especially now: as much as he wanted to deny it, being caught with a boner by Dean had made the situation more exhilarating. He never knew there was an exhibitionist side to him.
James switched the light on as he entered his living room, still giving his tent regular squeezes. There was no doubt now he was fully hard. He debated if he should remove his shorts; they were very tight around his thighs, especially now his cock was trying to stretch the fabric further. The feeling of the cool navy polyester on his rock-hard cock had him quickly deciding against it. He shut the windows and stood by the sofa, folding the large dark red throw he found by the furniture back. He continued rubbing his length through his shorts. His brown eyes rolled upwards and his head fell back.
“Oh…fuck,” he groaned. His eyes flew open; he had an idea — one that made his cock twitch with added excitement. In a few short movements, James had grabbed his phone, created a new message to Christina, turned the camera on and propped it up by a mug on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He grinned, ecstasy and lust coursing through his body; what could be more fun, and arousing, than recording himself jerking off and sending it to Christina? She had teased him badly, it was only fair he returned the favour. He set the app to send the video when the recording ended and hit the record button.
“Like my bulge, babe?” he whispered, standing. He thrust his crotch forward, accentuating the tent in his navy rugby shorts. He lifted the front of his jersey and exposed his abs, running his hand over it. He flexed his cock, making the tent in his shorts jump. “See what you did to me?”
He lifted one leg of his shorts and ran his hands over his thick thighs, which now glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He knew Christina loved his thighs. During a date on one occasion, she had constantly rubbed and squeezed his thighs while sitting in a public park, whispering in a moist voice, “I want to lick them so bad, babe.” He had gotten so hard he refused to stand until his boner had subsided.
He pushed the tent down with his palms, making the outline of his throbbing dick more visible. There was a barely visible dark spot on the front of his shorts where his tip had started to moisten. “Wish you were here…I’d fuck you so hard,” he said. His eyes rolled back again as he imagined Christina kneeling in front of him, his touch was her touch, every sensation he felt caused by her.
“Oh…” he moaned. He imagined her rubbing her soft thumbs over the tip of his tent, aggravating his sensitive tip. Sharp jolts raced through his body as he rubbed his thumb over his tent in small circular motions. His brows furrowed and his jaw fell open as images of her slowly and delicately rubbing his shaft flashed through his mind. His hands mimicked the mental images. Strong though he was, James’s thighs shuddered. Sweat rolled down his meaty legs and onto his black no show socks, which were now becoming damp.
With his palm pointing his hard cock downwards, he could feel his tip just about peeking out from below the hem of his shorts. The cool air flowed around this warm hard cock, making it throb. “Baby…” he breathed, “can you see it?” He raised the hem of his shorts just enough, so the camera recorded the head of his rock-hard cock poking out from the bottom of his navy rugby shorts. James flexed it slightly for the camera. “I’m so hard for you. I can’t wait to fuck you so hard.”
He lowered himself onto the sofa, spreading his legs. The thought of Christina seeing his huge thighs while stroking himself through his shorts was enough to elicit a low growl from his throat. He pushed the coffee table back with his feet, so the camera could record him with his black no show socks on; Christina had described them as ‘making his sexy feet way fucking hotter’. His eyelids fell as he returned to his imagination. He pictured every stroke, every squeeze and every movement on his hard-throbbing member as perpetrated by her. He moaned her name, one hand roaming over his chest and abs. His skin was now assuredly damp and glistening with sweat.
Then, he felt it: a gentle fluttering which disturbed the hairs on his leg. James opened his eyes and leaned forward, one hand still stroking himself. There, by his right feet, was a small slip of paper. He frowned. Where had that come from? He reached down and retrieved the small piece paper. It had jaggered edges, as though it had been torn carelessly from the pages of a book. The writing was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.
‘I have my vengeance, and you will pay. Goodbye.
-S.’
James froze mid-stroke, his clothed boner held firmly in his grasp. There was something deeply disconcerting about the note. Who had put it here? Had someone broken in? He would have gotten up to investigate had he not still been keen on cumming first, or not heard the soft rustling from his right. James turned. Something was moving under the throw he had folded back — and it was moving toward him. With his free hand, he lifted the brown polyester.
It was too fast — too fast for any human to jump back or out of the way. An olive-green scaled triangular head launched forward, its mouth wide open, bearing its rouge flesh and rows of sharp white teeth all curved backwards. James felt a sting as the anaconda’s jaw found its target on his right bicep. He screamed as the massive length of the snake rapidly coiled around him, tightening its hold on him with every coil.
“Fuck!” he cried, trembling heavily as the serpent’s scales slithered around his damp skin. There was a sharp shooting pain in his crotch as the snake’s coils forced his tented cock downwards. “Help…please help me,” he groaned. James attempted to flex his arms and legs in an attempt to loosen the coils around his abdomen, but to no avail; the snake’s strength was too great. The air — the life, was being squeezed out of him. The thumping in his blood vessels, the throbbing of the blood rushing into his hard cock, was all-encompassing.
The anaconda raised its head and surveyed James. With his lips quivering and his head shaking from uncontrollable fear, he looked into the yellow eyes of his attacker. For a brief moment, nothing happened; the predator was pensively considering its prey. Then, James felt the coils loosening slightly. He took in a deep gulp of air as the pressure on his chest and abdomen was released. He was going to live. Yes — the snake did not want to eat him. He felt his erected cock rise and settle between the remaining coils. With difficulty, he moved his hand within the coil and rubbed his tip, trying to ease the pain.
His relief, however, was short-lived. A low hissing caused him to look upwards. The anaconda’s jaws were stretched wide open, descending towards his head rapidly, enveloping it whole. James screamed in horror, his eyes wide open and his mouth wide, as his head was enveloped in darkness. Sharp shooting pain erupted where the serpent’s teeth punctured his skin. The screams of terror were unrelenting even as the snake pushed its body forward, devouring more and more of the thick human body. James was squeezed into the snake’s throat. His muscled arms were pushed into his side. The tightness of the reptile’s digestive track was heightened with his attempts to thrash about in a desperate (and vain) attempt to save himself. The lining of the snake’s digestive tract pushed against his skin, lubricating it. His wails of despair and pleas for help were nothing more than muffled yells issuing from the anaconda’s body.
James’s legs flailed frenziedly. His abject fear of getting eaten alive effected flatulence which escaped through the space in his shorts. He braced his palms over his crotch, in an attempt to protect his throbbing member from the force of the serpent’s teeth. He spread his thighs apart and bent his knees, anchoring himself against the sides of the anaconda’s jaw; perhaps with a push he might pull himself from the snake’s jaws. Strong though his legs were, the pain of his flesh pushing into the snake’s curved teeth had him quickly abandoning his escape. James screamed as the anaconda raised the front of its body, its head tilted upward; with a few short shakes of its head, the serpent gulped down James’s waist and thighs. The unexpectedly soft tissue lining the walls of the snake’s digestive system displaced his palms. Inadvertently, James let out a muffled groan of pleasure through his terrified shrills as the massive bulge in his shorts pushed into the surrounding soft tissue. Had he not been getting devoured by a massive snake, he would have noted the sensation differed not too greatly from pushing his cock into Christina; the more he struggled, the more pleasure he felt in his crotch.
Soon, all that could be seen of James were the lower half of his legs and his socked feet, both of which were trembling as though they were chilled by some cold force. His cries of terror and anguish softened into sobs of defeat, which were all but silent to the outside world. He was going to die. The long olive-green body twisted, its jaw stretched. With a final gulp, James’s struggling legs and feet were consumed whole. The hem of one of his black no show Adidas socks caught on one of the curved teeth but was quickly unhinged as his feet descended into the snake’s dark throat. The anaconda gave a final yawn, relocating its jaw after its first meal in more than six months. It would not have to feed for some time.
The anaconda’s already sizeable body now featured a human-shaped bulge, which still seemed to struggle. Muffled screams and shouts still emanated from the muscular devoured body but was heard by nobody. James was abandoned to his fate. The snake’s intestines constricted, forcing James’s body further down its digestive tract. The constrictive environment of the snake’s intestines forced his feet to point downwards. His navy rugby kit and tight black socks now fully damp with digestive fluids. He gasped as the walls of the snake’s organs pressed against his face, suffocating him. ‘No! Please! Someone, help!’ he thought desperately; there was no air by which he could scream. But it was no good. He let out a final tortured scream of anguish as his dark eyes rolled upwards. His meaty arms were limp and squeezed into his sides, the tremors and shakes of his legs and feet subsided. His still erected cock gave a final twitch before his thick and well-built body fell still. James was dead.
The house was silent, nothing moved. Then, there was a soft ‘ding!’. James’s phone had reached its maximum recording time. The video was saved and sent to Christina, as the phone’s devoured owner had intended several moments earlier.
And in a neat, two-storey blue house several streets away, two girls stretched out on a large four-poster bed burst into howls of laughter, their heads bent over a single phone resting between them — a phone playing a video of a well-built rugby player being devoured by a snake.
Revenge was sweet — very sweet indeed…
