Tecpatl
Forum Resident
- Joined
- Jan 3, 2011
- Messages
- 501
- Location
- USA
Joel didn't want a boyfriend. He just wanted somebody who would fuck him. He didn't want to be dead. He just wanted to be able to die. It was a fantasy he'd had as long as he'd been able to get a hard on. Being killed just at the moment he came. There was something about death. The body tensing up, then going slack. The eyes focused in fear, then that empty stare. it was like the ultimate orgasm. Whenever Joel met a hot guy he imagined what he would look like as the light went out of his eyes. Or he would imagine what it would feel like with the guy's hands around his neck, his naked body arching and twisting against the unyielding strength as he stared into the cold eyes choking his own life away.
But Joel didn't want to be actually dead. He liked living. So he went away to college and went to class and studied and fantasized. Gradually he learned that there were places around town where he could find guys who would fuck him. Not make love to him. Fuck him. Hard. Dark parks. Deserted restrooms. He grew to love the feel of cold dirty tile under his bare chest, his face pressed against the wall as a giant cock pounded into his ass. Any minute a cop could walk in. Any minute this guy he'd just met could pound his face bloody against the wall.
He went home with one guy who tied him against a wall in his basement and whipped him. Joel had never cum like he did that night. But then the guy wouldn't let him leave. At first it was ok. Joel liked being tied up and fucked. But then when the guy went to work he was left in the basement naked on a leash, with only a plate of food and an empty paint can to piss in within reach. He lost track of time. He imagined the guy coming back with a knife or gun. He was afraid. Finally he got free of the leash. He took some clothes and what money he could find. He smashed up the house.
Turned out four days had gone by. He'd already been skipping classes and he didn't have many friends so nobody really noticed. Except the coffee shop where he worked. He lost his job. It didn't seem too hard a decision to drop out of school. He loaded up his car and moved north. Larger city.
He drifted. Working here and there. Living out of his car when he needed to. Finding fuck buddies to crash with. He lost track of his family. They lost track of him. But he could always find the dark places and the anonymous men. That became his real life. He began to think how easy it would be to stick a knife between bare ribs. To tighten hands around a throat. To watch the light go out in a guy's eyes. And then slip away unseen.
He was on his way west on I-94. Southern Montana. He pulled off at a rest stop. He needed to pee. But he needed something else too. The locals got desperate out here. Ranches, farms, nothing else. They'd never admit they were gay. But they'd butt fuck a stranger at the local rest stop or park. It was late afternoon. Not too much traffic on the highway.*But an old pickup in the parking lot.
Nobody in the men's room. Joel finished and left. Nearby was a small shelter with a couple of picnic tables. The guy from the pickup was sitting on top of one, his booted feet on the bench, staring into the distance. He looked like a ranch hand, cowboy hat and all. Mid to late 20's. Joel leaned against one of the shelter supports.
"Hey."
"What you lookin for?"
"Nothin much. On my way west."
"Really. Where to?"
"Portland. Seattle maybe."
"Figures."
He wouldn't look at Joel. Just stared at the distance.
"What you looking for?"
The guy spat, "What do you think?"
Joel turned to head back to the men's room.
"Where you goin?"
"I thought maybe . . ."
"No. . . I mean not there."
"Isn't that where?"
"Yeah, but. . . "
He finally turned to look at Joel. He seemed nervous now.
"Afraid of getting caught?"
"No. It's just . . . There's somethin I wanna try. I mean more than . . ."
He was looking away again.
"I've got a place. A trailer really. On a ranch nearby. Private. Nobody near."
Fuck! Was this the time? Could it be this easy? Could he really do it? Did he really want to?
"So you want me to follow you?"
It turned out nearby was still a long way in Montana, but the guy was right, there was nothing around his place. As he followed the truck down a dirt path to a single-wide mobile home in a small stand of trees, Joel made his decision. This guy wouldn't be found until he was long gone. There was nothing to connect them. He decided to try to get a knife out of his bag, but if he couldn't do it without the guy noticing he'd use his hands. He hoped he was strong enough to take him, and finish him. Joel felt death draw near. His dick was throbbing.
The guy came up to his car as he pulled up behind the truck. No time to get the knife. As Joel got out the guy pulled him close. His body was lean and rock hard. His tongue was in Joel's throat. He pressed Joel back down against the hood of his car.
Joel hadn't expected this guy to be so aggressive. Not after he seemed so nervous at the rest stop. It turned him on even more. So it caught him off guard when the guy flipped him over, holding him face down on the hood. Joel felt the warm metal against his cheek as he felt a rope around his wrists. OK so this might not be his chance after all, but fuck this was hot. In just seconds Joel was hogtied, wrists and ankles tied to each other, back arched, lying in the dirt.
"You like this shit."
It was a statement, not a question. Joel's rock-hard dick was pretty obvious, even through his jeans.
"So this is what you wanted to try? Looks like you like it too."
The guy grunted. He opened a tool box sitting on the steps of his trailer and took out a pair of scissors.
"Hey man, don't. Untie me and let me strip. Then you can tie me up again. I can't afford . . ."
The guy backhanded Joel across the mouth.
"Shut the fuck up."
He started to cut away Joel's shirt.
This was really a change from the guy at the rest stop who wouldn't even look at him. It was the kind of guy Joel usually wanted. He wondered if the guy would want a slave for a while. That would be hot. But Joel still wished he wasn't cutting off his favorite jeans.
The guy ran his hands over Joel. Exploring his naked body. Squeezing his nipples and cock. Cupping Joel's low hanging balls.
"Fuck, this'll be nice," he murmured.
He unbuttoned his jeans and took out his own thick cock. Without a word he thrust it into Joel's mouth. Joel took it deep into his throat. This was one thing he had learned to do really well. Soon the guy let out a deep moan. He pulled out his cock, and backhanded Joel again.
"Enough," he grunted. Joel tasted blood in his mouth this time.
The guy started unbuttoning his shirt, stripping off his jeans. At last he stood naked in the evening light. Joel's body ached for what was coming. The cock thrusting rough into his ass. The hard body holding him, hitting him.
"This is the shit I wanted to try," the guy said, "And it's gonna get messy."
He pulled a large knife out of the tool box.
"What? What are you . . ."
"What I been plannin for a year. Just waitin for the right guy to show up. And you are more than the right guy. You are fuckin perfect. First, I'm gonna gut you. Open you up and pull out your heart and guts. You'll be dead by then. But you probly guessed that. Then I skin you and butcher you. What meat there is, I freeze or dry. The rest gets ground up and mixed with the cattle feed. Just like they do with what's left of cows and pigs after they're butchered. Within a few months all that's left of you will be in the food chain. Some hot guy in Ohio'll be eatin a steak from the steer that ate you."
He was kneeling now, his face close to Joel's, studying Joel's eyes.
"And this," he tapped the flat of the blade against Joel's left pec, "get's grilled for dinner."
Joel's mind was reeling. His chest clenched in panic. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't cry out. This couldn't be happening. He didn't want this. He wanted this real bad.
Joel didn't get long to think. A rough hand grabbed his shoulder and held him, tilting his tightly stretched chest. Joel felt the guy's hard dick slap against his thigh as he knelt beside him. Joel's old fantasy of dying still had enough power to help him cum as he felt the ice of the knife slice into the top of his belly. The warm cum spurted over his belly and chest, mixing with a torrent of warm blood as the knife sawed against the base of his ribs. Joel's body spasmed, although he didn't feel pain through the shock. The guy tried to hold Joel tight against the ground with one hand on his shoulder and a knee on his thigh. The other hand had put the knife aside and now plunged into the gaping hole at the base of Joel's chest, tearing it wider as it reached through the slippery organs for the one it felt beating.
Joel gasped and stiffened as he felt the hand clamp on his beating heart. His eyes opened wide, staring up at the rosy bottoms of clouds. His chest arched even more, if that was possible. For just an instant he thought he felt the guy's cock pumping against his thigh, spurts of warm cum spray on his crotch and belly. He hoped so. He hoped the guy was enjoying him. Then the heart came free. Joel's body slumped back against the earth.
Joel didn't want to be dead, he just wanted to be able to die. Joel was able. Joel was dead.
But Joel didn't want to be actually dead. He liked living. So he went away to college and went to class and studied and fantasized. Gradually he learned that there were places around town where he could find guys who would fuck him. Not make love to him. Fuck him. Hard. Dark parks. Deserted restrooms. He grew to love the feel of cold dirty tile under his bare chest, his face pressed against the wall as a giant cock pounded into his ass. Any minute a cop could walk in. Any minute this guy he'd just met could pound his face bloody against the wall.
He went home with one guy who tied him against a wall in his basement and whipped him. Joel had never cum like he did that night. But then the guy wouldn't let him leave. At first it was ok. Joel liked being tied up and fucked. But then when the guy went to work he was left in the basement naked on a leash, with only a plate of food and an empty paint can to piss in within reach. He lost track of time. He imagined the guy coming back with a knife or gun. He was afraid. Finally he got free of the leash. He took some clothes and what money he could find. He smashed up the house.
Turned out four days had gone by. He'd already been skipping classes and he didn't have many friends so nobody really noticed. Except the coffee shop where he worked. He lost his job. It didn't seem too hard a decision to drop out of school. He loaded up his car and moved north. Larger city.
He drifted. Working here and there. Living out of his car when he needed to. Finding fuck buddies to crash with. He lost track of his family. They lost track of him. But he could always find the dark places and the anonymous men. That became his real life. He began to think how easy it would be to stick a knife between bare ribs. To tighten hands around a throat. To watch the light go out in a guy's eyes. And then slip away unseen.
He was on his way west on I-94. Southern Montana. He pulled off at a rest stop. He needed to pee. But he needed something else too. The locals got desperate out here. Ranches, farms, nothing else. They'd never admit they were gay. But they'd butt fuck a stranger at the local rest stop or park. It was late afternoon. Not too much traffic on the highway.*But an old pickup in the parking lot.
Nobody in the men's room. Joel finished and left. Nearby was a small shelter with a couple of picnic tables. The guy from the pickup was sitting on top of one, his booted feet on the bench, staring into the distance. He looked like a ranch hand, cowboy hat and all. Mid to late 20's. Joel leaned against one of the shelter supports.
"Hey."
"What you lookin for?"
"Nothin much. On my way west."
"Really. Where to?"
"Portland. Seattle maybe."
"Figures."
He wouldn't look at Joel. Just stared at the distance.
"What you looking for?"
The guy spat, "What do you think?"
Joel turned to head back to the men's room.
"Where you goin?"
"I thought maybe . . ."
"No. . . I mean not there."
"Isn't that where?"
"Yeah, but. . . "
He finally turned to look at Joel. He seemed nervous now.
"Afraid of getting caught?"
"No. It's just . . . There's somethin I wanna try. I mean more than . . ."
He was looking away again.
"I've got a place. A trailer really. On a ranch nearby. Private. Nobody near."
Fuck! Was this the time? Could it be this easy? Could he really do it? Did he really want to?
"So you want me to follow you?"
It turned out nearby was still a long way in Montana, but the guy was right, there was nothing around his place. As he followed the truck down a dirt path to a single-wide mobile home in a small stand of trees, Joel made his decision. This guy wouldn't be found until he was long gone. There was nothing to connect them. He decided to try to get a knife out of his bag, but if he couldn't do it without the guy noticing he'd use his hands. He hoped he was strong enough to take him, and finish him. Joel felt death draw near. His dick was throbbing.
The guy came up to his car as he pulled up behind the truck. No time to get the knife. As Joel got out the guy pulled him close. His body was lean and rock hard. His tongue was in Joel's throat. He pressed Joel back down against the hood of his car.
Joel hadn't expected this guy to be so aggressive. Not after he seemed so nervous at the rest stop. It turned him on even more. So it caught him off guard when the guy flipped him over, holding him face down on the hood. Joel felt the warm metal against his cheek as he felt a rope around his wrists. OK so this might not be his chance after all, but fuck this was hot. In just seconds Joel was hogtied, wrists and ankles tied to each other, back arched, lying in the dirt.
"You like this shit."
It was a statement, not a question. Joel's rock-hard dick was pretty obvious, even through his jeans.
"So this is what you wanted to try? Looks like you like it too."
The guy grunted. He opened a tool box sitting on the steps of his trailer and took out a pair of scissors.
"Hey man, don't. Untie me and let me strip. Then you can tie me up again. I can't afford . . ."
The guy backhanded Joel across the mouth.
"Shut the fuck up."
He started to cut away Joel's shirt.
This was really a change from the guy at the rest stop who wouldn't even look at him. It was the kind of guy Joel usually wanted. He wondered if the guy would want a slave for a while. That would be hot. But Joel still wished he wasn't cutting off his favorite jeans.
The guy ran his hands over Joel. Exploring his naked body. Squeezing his nipples and cock. Cupping Joel's low hanging balls.
"Fuck, this'll be nice," he murmured.
He unbuttoned his jeans and took out his own thick cock. Without a word he thrust it into Joel's mouth. Joel took it deep into his throat. This was one thing he had learned to do really well. Soon the guy let out a deep moan. He pulled out his cock, and backhanded Joel again.
"Enough," he grunted. Joel tasted blood in his mouth this time.
The guy started unbuttoning his shirt, stripping off his jeans. At last he stood naked in the evening light. Joel's body ached for what was coming. The cock thrusting rough into his ass. The hard body holding him, hitting him.
"This is the shit I wanted to try," the guy said, "And it's gonna get messy."
He pulled a large knife out of the tool box.
"What? What are you . . ."
"What I been plannin for a year. Just waitin for the right guy to show up. And you are more than the right guy. You are fuckin perfect. First, I'm gonna gut you. Open you up and pull out your heart and guts. You'll be dead by then. But you probly guessed that. Then I skin you and butcher you. What meat there is, I freeze or dry. The rest gets ground up and mixed with the cattle feed. Just like they do with what's left of cows and pigs after they're butchered. Within a few months all that's left of you will be in the food chain. Some hot guy in Ohio'll be eatin a steak from the steer that ate you."
He was kneeling now, his face close to Joel's, studying Joel's eyes.
"And this," he tapped the flat of the blade against Joel's left pec, "get's grilled for dinner."
Joel's mind was reeling. His chest clenched in panic. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't cry out. This couldn't be happening. He didn't want this. He wanted this real bad.
Joel didn't get long to think. A rough hand grabbed his shoulder and held him, tilting his tightly stretched chest. Joel felt the guy's hard dick slap against his thigh as he knelt beside him. Joel's old fantasy of dying still had enough power to help him cum as he felt the ice of the knife slice into the top of his belly. The warm cum spurted over his belly and chest, mixing with a torrent of warm blood as the knife sawed against the base of his ribs. Joel's body spasmed, although he didn't feel pain through the shock. The guy tried to hold Joel tight against the ground with one hand on his shoulder and a knee on his thigh. The other hand had put the knife aside and now plunged into the gaping hole at the base of Joel's chest, tearing it wider as it reached through the slippery organs for the one it felt beating.
Joel gasped and stiffened as he felt the hand clamp on his beating heart. His eyes opened wide, staring up at the rosy bottoms of clouds. His chest arched even more, if that was possible. For just an instant he thought he felt the guy's cock pumping against his thigh, spurts of warm cum spray on his crotch and belly. He hoped so. He hoped the guy was enjoying him. Then the heart came free. Joel's body slumped back against the earth.
Joel didn't want to be dead, he just wanted to be able to die. Joel was able. Joel was dead.
Last edited:
