mitchman515

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Dec 21, 2010
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Seattle, WA
Jake visited home twice a year, usually. He’d moved away when he went to college-- the first one in the family. Scholarships, loans, anything to get the education he knew would get him enough money for-- well, just to get the hell out of New Mexico. He felt trapped there, trapped by the socio-economic status of his family.

He felt the familiar pang of shame when he stepped out into the backyard, full of dead grass and used tires. Why did white trash always seem to have tires strewn about their yard? He figured he should find out the answer, since this was where he had come from. This is what he was. He was doing well for himself in California, but he would never escape his roots.

He lit up a cigarette and surveyed the yard under the unyielding desert sun. It wasn’t a lot cause. Just needed some TLC. Okay, a lot of TLC. There just wasn’t anyone there to give it. His mom had bounced for the summer, bounding across the desert southwest in her tiny motor home, going from music festival to music festival. His dad was still here, retired, but was hardly ever home. Jake wondered where his dad could be spending all that free time, but never asked. His dad had simply said he was, “hanging out with friends.”

Didn’t matter much, Jake was only in town for a week. Then it’d be back to California, and he could put off worrying about keeping ties with his parents for another six months again.

He heard some rustling, someone coming into the back yard, stepping over dead leaves on the ground. He hid his cigarette behind his back, expecting to see his dad come around the corner.

It wasn’t his dad. It was a gruff looking, slightly overweight man with long-ish greying hair, probably in his late 40s, tattoos showing underneath the short sleeves of a dirty denim button up. “You Jake?” The guy asked before Jake had time to ask him what his name was, what he was doing in his backyard.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a drag on his cig, no longer worried his dad would catch him smoking again. His dad smoked, but had always tried to tell Jake not too. Hypocrite. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Dan,” the stranger said, smiling to reveal a missing tooth. Extended his hand for a handshake.

Jake took it, more out of instinct than not wanting to be rude, and as soon as he grabbed it, Dan took the opportunity to slam his foot into Jake’s groin. Jake slumped to the ground in that specific unbearable pain, and was only vaguely aware that Dan was jerking his hands behind his back, putting him in cuffs. Before he had a chance to even regain his breath, Dan had a gag in Jake’s mouth too.

“Bring him out!” Dan shouted to an unknown accomplice, and Jake watched as a short squat dark haired man in his mid 30s, latino complexion and strong upper body, let out another man from around the corner, bound and gagged as well. It was his dad.

“We warned you, Henry. We gave you every opportunity we could, and told you this was how it was going to go down if you couldn’t get us the money. All those poker games weren’t just for pretend money. This is your last chance. You got the five grand?”

His dad shook his head, sadness in his eyes.

“One more time, Henry. Maybe you don’t get it. Shake your head ‘no’ again and your boy dies. You got the money?”

Jake’s eyes went wide as his dad, with the look of a beaten man, solemnly shook his head once more. He was about to die over a 5k gambling debt?

“I can pay it!” he tried to shout. But oh, right. The gag. So many other things he wanted to say, too. “You told them my name. You told them where to find me.”

Out of a bag, the latino looking guy pulled out an orange heavy duty extension cord-- looked to be about 50ft, and tossed it to Dan.

“I’m disappointed in you Henry.” Dan said. “But at least this part is fun for me.”

Jake begged and pleaded into the gag as they looped the cord around his neck, and tossed one end over a tree branch. He was almost in disbelief-- he was about to be hanged. With a fucking extension cord.

And then they pulled him into the air, his feet about a foot off the ground, shuffling aimlessly. His mouth opened and closed silently.

“He’s your only kid, right?” Dan sneered. “So I guess that means we’re cutting off your lines. Let’s have a look.” Didn’t even bother unbuckling Jake’s belt, just pulled the pants down in a rough single motion. Jake didn’t even try to kick him-- just kept doing the hanged-man-shuffle. His underwear caught with the pants and Jake was left exposed for everyone to see.

The cicadas just kept singing in the afternoon heat, like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jake’s big dick ran in the family, so Henry wasn’t surprised at the immense size of flaccid penis bouncing around atop a bed of pubic hair, but the thugs let out a hoot and an obnoxious cat call whistle.

“Uncircumcised huh?” Dan laughed.

Jake knew he was naked, on display. Humiliated, just a monkey on rope for some spectators, unable to stop his dancing. It was hard for him to care; his neck felt like string cheese near the point of breaking.

His dad watched with sad, resigned eyes as Jake’s struggles turned into convulsions, and ended with him emptying his bladder, then going still.

“Don’t worry,” Dan called to Henry. “I’m sure he would have ended up being just as much of a loser as you.”

After Jake’s heart stopped, the blood sinking in his body started his penis stiffening almost immediately.

“We done here?” the Latino accomplice asked.

Dan looked thoughtful for a moment as he looked at Jake’s corpse. “Nah, I think I got one more thing in store for Henry, bring him over here.”

The grin on Dan’s face made Henry sick to his stomach as he was forced to approach his son’s body, gently twisting from side to side.

Once Henry was standing face to face with Jake, Dan pulled out a gun. “On your knees, bitch.”

Dread overcame Henry as he knew what was about to happen. He gave his captor a pained look.

“Do it. Unless you want a bullet in your brain, suck his fucking cock.”

Henry grabbed the swinging thighs to steady the body, and took his son’s still-growing length into his mouth. He’d sucked dick once before, a high-school experiment. He hadn’t liked it then-- felt like he was going to throw up now.

The vague taste of his son’s death piss lingered. He tried to keep his tongue from touching the shaft, but his kid’s member was too big, he had to adjust it just to breathe. It was like bitter, salty lightning when his tongue made contact. The taste of sweat, like his son hadn’t showered in a few days. Maybe his kid really was just another piece of trash.

Dan forced Henry’s head down, hard. His nose slammed into his son’s pubic bone and gagged, but Dan didn’t let up. Just stood there and chucked before releasing Henry a few seconds later. He pulled off the cock as quickly as he could, with a wet pop sound and a trail of spit hanging in the air.

They pushed him to the ground and walked away laughing.

My Other Stories: Bad Dad | Trial Run | Shoulder Devil
 
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