spt1966
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Mar 21, 2013
- Messages
- 54
- Location
- Texas
Here’s another story from the old Gay Male Hanging site. Apologies to those who have already read it, but for those who don’t want to go through the trouble of using the wayback machine, enjoy.
Many thanks to the original author, Fraternity Boy. I have cleaned up some of the grammar and formatting to make it easier to read.
We were the best of friends in college. We shared a dorm room, all four years, and yeah, it was crowded with the four of us in one suite, but, hey, we were friends, and we didn't care. Living in close quarters gave us a distaste for privacy. When I went home over the summers, I just couldn't get used to showering alone, or sharing a bathroom with less than 30 people, or jerking off without the door open and bunch of people hanging out in my room. We were nice to each other. No one was gay or straight, single or committed, smart or stupid, rich or poor. We shared everything and nothing belonged to anyone, girlfriends included.
When we first came we had the same intimidating lectures that all freshmen get. "Look to the right of you. Look to the left of you. In four years, one of you three won't be here." We never thought it would be one of us.
Well, one of our roommates, Mel, wasn't doing so well. He had done very poorly the first two semesters, and if he didn't make the grades this time, he would be thrown out. Well we were smart, and came up with an idea. We had him fake an illness, he got sent home, and he'd study up and take the same courses again next semester. All was fine.
Except Mel's parents were assholes. No other word can describe them. They got him all depressed, and were real hard on him. They even threatened to stop paying for his school. His girlfriend dumped him, and all this was making him very sexually frustrated. Who could blame him? He had a nine inch dick, so the three of us would take turns sucking him off for fun…. He got blown about six times a day. It’s hard to go back to living at home after that.
We wanted to cheer him up. Plus, he was sexually frustrated, and we wouldn't mind getting his rocks off for him. We tried taking photos of us having sex with each other and emailing them to him, but that only made him more frustrated.
Then something dawned on me. Ever since I was about 11 or 12, I made the habit of taking one of my belts, and looping it around my neck. I would pull on it, and choke myself for a few minutes, until I got dizzy or bored. I always thought the idea of hanging was really cool, and it helped me imagine myself hung.
Then as I got older, I discovered masturbation, and found out that I could get one hell of an orgasm choking myself. Before that I just wanted to hang for the fun of it, but now, it had a whole sexual aspect.
So I would choke myself fairly often, and when I went off to college, I kept doing it. My roommates thought it was kind of weird, and so I choked them a bit one time when they were jerking off, and they liked it. But it didn't do as much for them as it did for me, so they didn't try it again. Mel, however, really got turned on watching me.
One other thing turned Mel on—Eric. Eric was one of our roommates. Not too dumb, not too bright, just really good looking. And Eric would sleep with anyone and everyone. Guys, girls, incoming freshmen, it didn't matter. Plus he wasn't very shy with his body, for good reason.
We decided on a solution to Mel's problem. We would send him a few pictures of Eric, naked, and I'm sure that would get him off because the pictures of Eric would show him hung. Eric wouldn't like it, but he'd do it, because he knew it would turn Mel on, and because he'd get an orgasm out of it.
So we approached Eric about it, and he was rather cool with it. He liked the fact that Mel found him attractive; he didn't mind being looked at and found being photographed kind of erotic and flattering. He said the rope didn't scare him much at all.
I talked to him about what it would be like, and well, he got a bit more nervous, but he also got a bit more turned on. He thought about it for a while, and then I dropped the punch line. Mel had seen me choke before. There was only one thing that would really do it for him. Eric had to hang all the way.
I told Eric basically, "Mel won't get off if you come off that noose alive. You've got to stay on that rope until that noose has done what it was intended to do. You've got to hang, for real, none of this fake shit. You've got to do it all the way."
When I said this, Eric gave me a look that was just priceless. A combination of "yeah, right", "you must think I'm an idiot," "fuck you", "are you kidding" and "wow, that sounds erotic."
It was then that I noticed the jump in his pants. I don't know what happened next but I imagine he thought we were kidding, and we thought he was kidding. It was a sort of a macho vs. chicken contest. He'd go for it, making us back off, and we'd go for it, making him back off.
Well in any case, within two minutes we cleaned up the room a bit (by college standards) and took out the rope that spent many, many sessions around my neck. Then I took out my camera.
Eric was a cute boy. Hazel eyes, fair skin, almost pale but not pasty, and a full head of hair. He had a gentle face, and it was rare if someone who met him for the first time said he was over 14. In reality he was 22, older than all of us. He had well-worn hands, because he grew up on a farm. He was muscular but toned, not built, and was not exceptionally good looking below the face, but was still quite nice. He was almost entirely hairless, and his pubic hairs were a soft yellow-brownish color.
His dick was uncut, thin, but long. His nuts were plump, considerably larger than normal, which propped up his dick. Of course he was hard now, and it looked flawless, even though I knew it had been in dozens of girls and a few guys.
He stripped slowly, and we took a lot of photos of that. We dropped the noose in front of him from the start, and it looked pretty cute. The dorm lighting wasn't very good, but I knew I'd fix the images later on my computer. His pasty white feet stepped onto the wooden chair, and he stood, facing me, with the noose at chest level.
The noose fit squarely between his nipples, encircling the small chest hairs on his beautiful body. His dick was damn hard now, the foreskin pulled all the way back, and oozing precum. He was more nervous now, so he acted more macho to compensate. "Come on you pussies... get me on this noose before I have to fuck one of ya."
I got up on the chair behind him, and pulled the noose up over his head. I had a bit of difficulty getting it around his neck—it kept getting it stuck on his nose. This is a time when you want to look rough and ready, or at least suave and coordinated, not clumsy and humorous. He laughed as it got caught repeatedly, and was acting kind of friendly considering we were about to watch him die, but I finally got it around his neck. He looked at himself in the mirror, and really was obviously turning himself on.
I handcuffed his hands with my play handcuffs, which my boyfriend bought me. We took more photos and tightened the noose, so that he was on his tip toes.
We took a bunch more photos, and then asked him if he was sure. He looked like he really enjoyed the idea of being hung, but I don't think he fully realized we were serious. He laughed, and said "Yeah, i'm not chicken, I'm not afraid of pain or death." He stepped to the edge of the chair.
Then he began to play with us. "Come on, pull the chair out. What's wrong? I thought you guys wanted to see me hang? Afraid to kill a man? Chicken? Okay pussies, watch this."
With that, he leaned forward, flexed his knees, and gave us a wry smile. He tensed his legs and kicked hard, knocking the chair over backward, leaving him hanging in the air. He was flailing his legs, twitching, and his head was pulled to an odd angle. He had a look of sheer terror on his face. I guess after a few seconds he realized that we weren't kidding, and his look of fear turned to pleasure. He began to blush, and turn really red.
He was dancing in mid-air, and by now had one hell of a smile on his face, mixed with a great deal of pain. His kicking was replaced by twitching, and balls began to tense. I knew what he was going through, because I had been there before. He began to really flail, and started to cum.
Now I had seen Eric cum before. It was really more of an ooze than an orgasm, because he got off so often, and only a few drops. But this was different. He sprayed everywhere, super-high velocities of sperm went flying into every corner of the room—even the ceiling got hit. He must have shot a gallon, because he just kept cumming and cumming. Finally he began to slow down, and was still twitching.
Now he looked more like a seizure than a dance. I guess those are death throes. His face went from pink to red to deep red to purple to blue to gray, and his eyes were really bulging out. His tongue was very swollen, and he was losing his erection. He actually kept like this for a while, until about 5 minutes had passed. (It had been about 10 minutes since he stepped off the chair.) He was barely twitching at all, was completely limp, and began to dribble piss. He was also slowly turning side to side, back and forth, peacefully. I was entirely entranced by the sight.
In total, Jim and I took over 100 pictures. We were just dazzled by his body, hanging there like a display in some museum. We had hot, passionate sex right there on a bed covered with random spots of cum and piss. We didn't care. After about an hour, we were sure Eric was obviously quite dead, and we got dressed.
I knew Eric's email password, and so I wrote a suicide note and sent it to all his friends. It made sense—he just folded under the pressure and hung himself. No one would question it for a moment. We went out to lunch, and made sure to leave the door unlocked.
Sure enough, after about 30 minutes later, a hysterical female friend of his ran to his room upon checking her email. She found the door open, and found him hanging there. Apparently she enjoyed the sight too, because it was only when another concerned friend came running that she stopped staring and called the campus police.
We came home and acted shocked and despaired. According to an ancient Ivy collegiate tradition, since our roommate committed suicide this semester, we both got 4.0s. Apparently that did not extend to Mel. Mel loved the photos, and was kind enough to keep them hidden.
And that is my story.
I adjust myself, for by now, my knees are aching. Being done, I recite the generic requirements. "Reverend Father, I hold thee as reconciler and intercessor with the only begotten Son of God that by the power given unto thee, though will release of the bond of my sins, I pray thee."
The priest is now silent for a while. Finally in a very calm, distant, whispery voice, he says. "You shall go directly to your dorm, and immediately inflict upon yourself that which you imposed on your friend, and thus receive your absolution."
I am frozen in fear. Numb, I leave the church, knowing that the priest is right. I pause only for a quick stop at the hardware store, to buy myself a rope.
Meanwhile the priest returns to his office, and unlocks his desk drawer. He brushes aside his rosaries and icons, and pulls out the latest edition of Katharsis. He mumbles, "I always wanted to submit a story, now, finally, I have something to write about."
Many thanks to the original author, Fraternity Boy. I have cleaned up some of the grammar and formatting to make it easier to read.
We were the best of friends in college. We shared a dorm room, all four years, and yeah, it was crowded with the four of us in one suite, but, hey, we were friends, and we didn't care. Living in close quarters gave us a distaste for privacy. When I went home over the summers, I just couldn't get used to showering alone, or sharing a bathroom with less than 30 people, or jerking off without the door open and bunch of people hanging out in my room. We were nice to each other. No one was gay or straight, single or committed, smart or stupid, rich or poor. We shared everything and nothing belonged to anyone, girlfriends included.
When we first came we had the same intimidating lectures that all freshmen get. "Look to the right of you. Look to the left of you. In four years, one of you three won't be here." We never thought it would be one of us.
Well, one of our roommates, Mel, wasn't doing so well. He had done very poorly the first two semesters, and if he didn't make the grades this time, he would be thrown out. Well we were smart, and came up with an idea. We had him fake an illness, he got sent home, and he'd study up and take the same courses again next semester. All was fine.
Except Mel's parents were assholes. No other word can describe them. They got him all depressed, and were real hard on him. They even threatened to stop paying for his school. His girlfriend dumped him, and all this was making him very sexually frustrated. Who could blame him? He had a nine inch dick, so the three of us would take turns sucking him off for fun…. He got blown about six times a day. It’s hard to go back to living at home after that.
We wanted to cheer him up. Plus, he was sexually frustrated, and we wouldn't mind getting his rocks off for him. We tried taking photos of us having sex with each other and emailing them to him, but that only made him more frustrated.
Then something dawned on me. Ever since I was about 11 or 12, I made the habit of taking one of my belts, and looping it around my neck. I would pull on it, and choke myself for a few minutes, until I got dizzy or bored. I always thought the idea of hanging was really cool, and it helped me imagine myself hung.
Then as I got older, I discovered masturbation, and found out that I could get one hell of an orgasm choking myself. Before that I just wanted to hang for the fun of it, but now, it had a whole sexual aspect.
So I would choke myself fairly often, and when I went off to college, I kept doing it. My roommates thought it was kind of weird, and so I choked them a bit one time when they were jerking off, and they liked it. But it didn't do as much for them as it did for me, so they didn't try it again. Mel, however, really got turned on watching me.
One other thing turned Mel on—Eric. Eric was one of our roommates. Not too dumb, not too bright, just really good looking. And Eric would sleep with anyone and everyone. Guys, girls, incoming freshmen, it didn't matter. Plus he wasn't very shy with his body, for good reason.
We decided on a solution to Mel's problem. We would send him a few pictures of Eric, naked, and I'm sure that would get him off because the pictures of Eric would show him hung. Eric wouldn't like it, but he'd do it, because he knew it would turn Mel on, and because he'd get an orgasm out of it.
So we approached Eric about it, and he was rather cool with it. He liked the fact that Mel found him attractive; he didn't mind being looked at and found being photographed kind of erotic and flattering. He said the rope didn't scare him much at all.
I talked to him about what it would be like, and well, he got a bit more nervous, but he also got a bit more turned on. He thought about it for a while, and then I dropped the punch line. Mel had seen me choke before. There was only one thing that would really do it for him. Eric had to hang all the way.
I told Eric basically, "Mel won't get off if you come off that noose alive. You've got to stay on that rope until that noose has done what it was intended to do. You've got to hang, for real, none of this fake shit. You've got to do it all the way."
When I said this, Eric gave me a look that was just priceless. A combination of "yeah, right", "you must think I'm an idiot," "fuck you", "are you kidding" and "wow, that sounds erotic."
It was then that I noticed the jump in his pants. I don't know what happened next but I imagine he thought we were kidding, and we thought he was kidding. It was a sort of a macho vs. chicken contest. He'd go for it, making us back off, and we'd go for it, making him back off.
Well in any case, within two minutes we cleaned up the room a bit (by college standards) and took out the rope that spent many, many sessions around my neck. Then I took out my camera.
Eric was a cute boy. Hazel eyes, fair skin, almost pale but not pasty, and a full head of hair. He had a gentle face, and it was rare if someone who met him for the first time said he was over 14. In reality he was 22, older than all of us. He had well-worn hands, because he grew up on a farm. He was muscular but toned, not built, and was not exceptionally good looking below the face, but was still quite nice. He was almost entirely hairless, and his pubic hairs were a soft yellow-brownish color.
His dick was uncut, thin, but long. His nuts were plump, considerably larger than normal, which propped up his dick. Of course he was hard now, and it looked flawless, even though I knew it had been in dozens of girls and a few guys.
He stripped slowly, and we took a lot of photos of that. We dropped the noose in front of him from the start, and it looked pretty cute. The dorm lighting wasn't very good, but I knew I'd fix the images later on my computer. His pasty white feet stepped onto the wooden chair, and he stood, facing me, with the noose at chest level.
The noose fit squarely between his nipples, encircling the small chest hairs on his beautiful body. His dick was damn hard now, the foreskin pulled all the way back, and oozing precum. He was more nervous now, so he acted more macho to compensate. "Come on you pussies... get me on this noose before I have to fuck one of ya."
I got up on the chair behind him, and pulled the noose up over his head. I had a bit of difficulty getting it around his neck—it kept getting it stuck on his nose. This is a time when you want to look rough and ready, or at least suave and coordinated, not clumsy and humorous. He laughed as it got caught repeatedly, and was acting kind of friendly considering we were about to watch him die, but I finally got it around his neck. He looked at himself in the mirror, and really was obviously turning himself on.
I handcuffed his hands with my play handcuffs, which my boyfriend bought me. We took more photos and tightened the noose, so that he was on his tip toes.
We took a bunch more photos, and then asked him if he was sure. He looked like he really enjoyed the idea of being hung, but I don't think he fully realized we were serious. He laughed, and said "Yeah, i'm not chicken, I'm not afraid of pain or death." He stepped to the edge of the chair.
Then he began to play with us. "Come on, pull the chair out. What's wrong? I thought you guys wanted to see me hang? Afraid to kill a man? Chicken? Okay pussies, watch this."
With that, he leaned forward, flexed his knees, and gave us a wry smile. He tensed his legs and kicked hard, knocking the chair over backward, leaving him hanging in the air. He was flailing his legs, twitching, and his head was pulled to an odd angle. He had a look of sheer terror on his face. I guess after a few seconds he realized that we weren't kidding, and his look of fear turned to pleasure. He began to blush, and turn really red.
He was dancing in mid-air, and by now had one hell of a smile on his face, mixed with a great deal of pain. His kicking was replaced by twitching, and balls began to tense. I knew what he was going through, because I had been there before. He began to really flail, and started to cum.
Now I had seen Eric cum before. It was really more of an ooze than an orgasm, because he got off so often, and only a few drops. But this was different. He sprayed everywhere, super-high velocities of sperm went flying into every corner of the room—even the ceiling got hit. He must have shot a gallon, because he just kept cumming and cumming. Finally he began to slow down, and was still twitching.
Now he looked more like a seizure than a dance. I guess those are death throes. His face went from pink to red to deep red to purple to blue to gray, and his eyes were really bulging out. His tongue was very swollen, and he was losing his erection. He actually kept like this for a while, until about 5 minutes had passed. (It had been about 10 minutes since he stepped off the chair.) He was barely twitching at all, was completely limp, and began to dribble piss. He was also slowly turning side to side, back and forth, peacefully. I was entirely entranced by the sight.
In total, Jim and I took over 100 pictures. We were just dazzled by his body, hanging there like a display in some museum. We had hot, passionate sex right there on a bed covered with random spots of cum and piss. We didn't care. After about an hour, we were sure Eric was obviously quite dead, and we got dressed.
I knew Eric's email password, and so I wrote a suicide note and sent it to all his friends. It made sense—he just folded under the pressure and hung himself. No one would question it for a moment. We went out to lunch, and made sure to leave the door unlocked.
Sure enough, after about 30 minutes later, a hysterical female friend of his ran to his room upon checking her email. She found the door open, and found him hanging there. Apparently she enjoyed the sight too, because it was only when another concerned friend came running that she stopped staring and called the campus police.
We came home and acted shocked and despaired. According to an ancient Ivy collegiate tradition, since our roommate committed suicide this semester, we both got 4.0s. Apparently that did not extend to Mel. Mel loved the photos, and was kind enough to keep them hidden.
And that is my story.
I adjust myself, for by now, my knees are aching. Being done, I recite the generic requirements. "Reverend Father, I hold thee as reconciler and intercessor with the only begotten Son of God that by the power given unto thee, though will release of the bond of my sins, I pray thee."
The priest is now silent for a while. Finally in a very calm, distant, whispery voice, he says. "You shall go directly to your dorm, and immediately inflict upon yourself that which you imposed on your friend, and thus receive your absolution."
I am frozen in fear. Numb, I leave the church, knowing that the priest is right. I pause only for a quick stop at the hardware store, to buy myself a rope.
Meanwhile the priest returns to his office, and unlocks his desk drawer. He brushes aside his rosaries and icons, and pulls out the latest edition of Katharsis. He mumbles, "I always wanted to submit a story, now, finally, I have something to write about."
