I did not write this. I collected it about 10 years ago. I think this came from an old BBS in SF, but I don't remember the name. I have a lot of these old stories, but some are copyright and I can't post them.
Tough Love by Trainman
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tough Love
I have this blood lust, you see. I really have very little control over
myself when it happens, so I rarely fight against it. The fact that it's
tied up with my sexual predilections is probably the reason it's so
overwhelming and inevitably leads to pain, carnage and, ultimately, death.
I don't even quite remember the first time. It was so long ago, when I was
a boy, really. I had conveniently forgotten all about it by that day in
March of 1997 when I came upon Timmy. He was a street kid, perhaps 19 or
20, with a quick smile and a dark frown and there was often very little
time between one and the other. Like all street kids, he was wary and a
little suspicious of strangers, so it was rather a surprise when he
approached me.
"You lookin' for somethin', Mister?" he asked. I admit he was attractive,
in a rough sort of way. About 5' 6" and 130 pounds or so, and the start of
a nice body, dirty blond hair and flashing dark blue eyes, it was obvious
that he'd been around and knew the score. "Is there something you want?"
I smiled. "Yes, sure. How about a blow job?"
"Ten bucks," he said. If you want more, it'll cost you more."
"I have a place down the street. You want to come with me? I'll make it
worth your while."
I don't know if he went with just anybody who offered or only with those he
found attractive, but I like to think that in this case it was the latter
reason. I know I could turn eyes on the street, even among the so-called
"straight" ones, with my dark hair and black eyes, tall, imposing and
muscular body, and, especially, the huge basket at my crotch. I always wore
boxerbriefs, because they hold it out and up and show off your equipment to
the best possible advantage. At 38, I was at the height of my physical and
sexual prowess, and it was obvious.
The idea of paying for sex was not foreign to me, having done some hustling
myself a few years ago. But what this kid didn't know was that I had no
intention of paying him for anything that happened. Except with the
ultimate payment.
He told me his name as we walked back down the street toward my "place," a
small one-bedroom flat in a run-down building near the edge of downtown. I
used it only for an occasional trick, or when I needed to get away for a
day or two; sparsely furnished, it betrayed no inkling of the personality
or preferences of its occupant. At the present time, I was the only tenant,
so it was completely private. During our brief conversation, Timmy also
indicated that he was living on the street and was far away from home. He
said he had some friends in town, but nobody he could call family.
We soon came to my flat and I unlocked the door. There was a small closet
at the entrance, and a short hallway leading to the living/dining area. The
kitchenette was off to the left and the single bedroom to the right. I
suggested that Timmy go into the bedroom and make himself comfortable. He
looked a little nervous, although still retaining his streetwise cockiness,
and he sauntered into the bedroom, checking it out.
I followed him, taking off my jacket and unbuttoning my shirt. His eyes
watched me carefully. "You might as well get comfortable, Timmy. You know
we want to be naked."
"Yeah, I know," he said. He was looking at my well-defined body, at the
tufts of hair between my large plum-colored nipples that ran down my
stomach into my slacks. I undid my belt. "Perhaps you'd like to help me
undress?"
He reached over and lowered my zipper, allowing me to step out of my
slacks. I kicked off my loafers, and he sank to his knees to relieve me of
my socks, one by one. Kneeling down like that, his head came up to crotch
level, and he was staring at the big bulge in my boxerbriefs.
"Take off your clothes, and then you can take this off," I said, indicating
my shorts. I watched as he quickly doffed his pull-on shirt and then kicked
off his tennis and stepped out of his slightly ragged jeans. He never took
his eyes off my crotch. Now we were both clad only in under shorts; his
were jockeys, remarkably white ones, considering the fact that he mustn't
know from day to day where he was going to sleep. He looked a great deal
smaller and less robust than when I first saw him; I decided that he was
probably a little younger than I thought, perhaps even 18.
But he was definitely interested in what lay behind my shorts. He pulled
his own down, and stepped out of them, his five-inch dick hard as a rock.
Then he reached for my shorts and pulled them slowly down, enjoying the
process of revealing what they had hidden. I was getting hard now, reaching
the thickness and length of a full erection. He gasped.
"Shit, Mister, that's the biggest dick I ever saw!" He said it like he
meant it, but I knew he had probably turned tricks with guys bigger than
me. Still, I knew it wasn't your run-of-the-mill power tool. A little over
nine inches and a good 7 inches around made my cock one worth remarking
about. He knelt again, and with his hands, took my cock into his mouth.
He couldn't handle it all, but he was damned good. I don't think there was
much left to take by the time he gagged on the first down stroke, but he
quickly got the rhythm going. After ten or twelve quick strokes, he licked
around the head and down to my balls, all the while making little
whimpering noises.
I reached down, pulled him up, then picked him up in my arms and placed him
on the bed. He smiled up at me as I laid him on his back and lowered my
head to his own hard dick. I swallowed him in one gulp, to the root, and he
gasped, holding my head with his hands and starting to fuck my face. I knew
he was getting ready to cum, but I also knew he was young and could
probably cum four or five times without stopping. So I let him fuck my face
as I played with his drawn-up balls and fingered his little rosebud ass.
"Oh, God! Are you gonna fuck me, Mister?" It was a plea, not a question. I
knew he wanted it. "Yes, Timmy. I'm going to fuck you. You want me to,
don't you?" He answered by blowing his load in my mouth, groaning and
whimpering and still fucking my face. My mouth was full of his cum, a lot
for such a little boy, I thought, and a very tasty treat, as I allowed it
to trickle down my throat. I was going to fuck him, but first I wanted him
to finish what he had started earlier. I crawled up so I was straddling his
chest, then leaned down and put my cock in his mouth. "Suck on this,
Timmy," I commanded, as I plunged it in hard. "MMffft, urggh," he choked.
His eyes looked up at me and for the first time I saw fear in him.
Something about that look spurred me on, and I shoved my dick into his
throat as far as it would go. He fought me then, kicking upwards, trying
desperately to get away from the huge pole being shoved down his gullet. I
wouldn't let him up, but I pulled my cock out of his mouth and slapped him,
hard, across the face. He started crying, and then I shoved my dick back in
again, harder than ever this time.
He continued to struggle, and I held him tightly, fucking his face almost
as hard as he had fucked mine. There were tears in his eyes and snot ran
out of his nose. He tried biting my cock and I kneed him so hard in the
groin I could see the whites of his eyes as his pupils shot up. The harder
he fought the harder I fucked, and I could tell I was losing control.
I jerked my cock out of his gasping mouth and slammed him over on his face,
pulling his asshole up in the air. "You wanted to get fucked? Now, you're
going to get fucked!" I shouted, and I plunged all nine inches into his
asshole, down all the way to my balls in one vicious attack. And I started
fucking then, hard, pulling it out and plunging it in all the way. Blood
appeared on the sheets; it was almost gushing out of his asshole, and the
more blood there was, the harder I fucked.
I spun him around. I wanted to watch his face as I fucked him. He was
yelling and sobbing, tears flowing from his eyes and snot from his nose. I
brought my face down to his and kissed him on his screaming mouth, forcing
my tongue into him at the same time as I fucked harder and harder. I licked
the snot away from his nose and mouth and tasted it; it was like nectar.
Again, I spun him around and pulled out of his bleeding asshole. I leaned
down and began cleaning his hole with my tongue, sucking the blood away and
licking and soothing his ravaged hole. He was still crying, but I noticed
he was pushing his ass into my face as I tongued him.
Once again I replaced my tongue with my prick and jammed it in, proceeding
to fuck as hard or harder than before. I reached under his chest and
started pulling on his nipples, now, hard, the way I like it. He screamed
all the louder and I turned him over and slapped him around until his
screams turned to groans and his eyes filled with fear and hatred. I spit
on him. "Drink this, you little street fag!"
Now, on his back, his reddened tits were open to my mouth. I sucked on them
first, then bit them, hard enough to draw blood, and he went rigid, gasped,
and then screamed again. All this time I was still fucking him, and biting
his tits, and every once in a while I would look at him and slap him again.
I was hitting him hard; his eyes would cross and it looked like he might
lose consciousness.
Suddenly, I came, despite Herculean efforts not to. It felt like quarts of
cum were gushing out of me and directly into that bloody passage; I was
breathless, gasping for breath, my heart was pounding and I realized I was
shouting something. Timmy had this glazed look on his face, but then I
noticed that he had cum himself, apparently while I was fucking him and
hurting him so badly.
I licked his cum off his trembling body, and turned him over. Once again, I
tongued his sore ass, drinking his blood and sucking my cum from the
orifice. I got my tongue way into his asshole, biting the tender tissue,
causing more blood to flow and now tasting blood and cum and what could
only be Timmy's shit.
I pulled back, and inserted a couple of fingers in that tender ass. He
tightened up again, but I went forward anyway, now with three fingers, then
a fourth. The blood began to flow again, but it wasn't enough lubrication
to make it easy. I got my hand in and pushed, slowly but inexorably. He
began to yell, a low groan turning into a horrible scream as my hand made
it through his tight sphincter and into the anus itself. With my other
hand, I covered his mouth and told him to shut up or else.
I reached over to the nightstand and took some lube I had there. It was
just too hard for me to maneuver without some lubrication, so I pulled my
hand out of Timmy's ass and licked it off, then covered it with the lube
and shoved it back in. All the while he was whimpering, and when I
re-entered his low groan was almost heart breaking. I was hard again, as
hard as I'd ever been.
This time I got my arm into his asshole and watched it going in deeper and
deeper. Timmy had passed out by now, but I wanted him awake, so I waited a
moment, kissing his nose and mouth and eyes, speaking gently to him, until
he stirred and looked up at me in confusion and pain. It was then I felt
something inside him, a piece of his guts or something, and I opened my
hand and grabbed tightly and pulled for all I was worth. His eyes flashed
suddenly, he screamed again and went limp, as I pulled his guts out with my
hand. I just pulled and pulled until my hand came out, filled with tissue
and guts and blood and god knows what was in there.
I rubbed it on his face and in his mouth and nose, but he was silent. I
reached back into his asshole, all the way, and grabbed another handful of
guts, pulling them hard. I took some of that bloody pulp and slopped it on
his genitals, and then I leaned down and took his limp cock into my mouth.
I swallowed his balls, too, and then I bit down as hard as I could, chewing
and tearing, like a wild animal with his prey.
There was blood everywhere. I raised my head, pulling with all my strength,
and soon realized my mouth was free of his body. I had his penis and his
balls in my mouth and I chewed on them. It was like chewing on pieces of
rubber or elastic, but I was eating him! I had to cum. His asshole was too
open now to fuck, so I got on top of his face and plunged my steel-hard
cock into his lax mouth once again. This time, there was no resistance, and
I fucked his face until I came again, harder than ever, so hard I was
sobbing myself before it was over.
I lay there for a long time, licking him, tasting his blood and guts and
chewing on bits and pieces of him. I wondered if I could get my hand up his
ass again far enough to rip out his heart. I wanted to eat it, too. I went
into the kitchen and got a large knife and plunged it into his chest.
It took me several hours to get rid of the body. I cut it up into
manageable pieces and threw them into two large garbage bags. I knew nobody
would miss him for weeks, if at all; he would simply disappear, as did so
many of the street kids. But it would take weeks to clean up the bedroom,
to get rid of the blood which had splattered all over the bed and walls, as
well as into the mattress and carpet. Next time I'd have to be a little
more careful, perhaps use some plastic throws, or something.
Next time? Well, yes, there have been several next times. I found a kindred
soul, a big black man named Julian who has a 14-inch war club, big enough
to kill a street kid without trying. And he knows how to make a body
disappear and where to find the most desirable young men. We've become
lovers; he and I rarely leave each other for several days after an
adventure, preferring to stay in bed with each other and relive the
excitement of our time with tough love.
Tough Love by Trainman
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tough Love
I have this blood lust, you see. I really have very little control over
myself when it happens, so I rarely fight against it. The fact that it's
tied up with my sexual predilections is probably the reason it's so
overwhelming and inevitably leads to pain, carnage and, ultimately, death.
I don't even quite remember the first time. It was so long ago, when I was
a boy, really. I had conveniently forgotten all about it by that day in
March of 1997 when I came upon Timmy. He was a street kid, perhaps 19 or
20, with a quick smile and a dark frown and there was often very little
time between one and the other. Like all street kids, he was wary and a
little suspicious of strangers, so it was rather a surprise when he
approached me.
"You lookin' for somethin', Mister?" he asked. I admit he was attractive,
in a rough sort of way. About 5' 6" and 130 pounds or so, and the start of
a nice body, dirty blond hair and flashing dark blue eyes, it was obvious
that he'd been around and knew the score. "Is there something you want?"
I smiled. "Yes, sure. How about a blow job?"
"Ten bucks," he said. If you want more, it'll cost you more."
"I have a place down the street. You want to come with me? I'll make it
worth your while."
I don't know if he went with just anybody who offered or only with those he
found attractive, but I like to think that in this case it was the latter
reason. I know I could turn eyes on the street, even among the so-called
"straight" ones, with my dark hair and black eyes, tall, imposing and
muscular body, and, especially, the huge basket at my crotch. I always wore
boxerbriefs, because they hold it out and up and show off your equipment to
the best possible advantage. At 38, I was at the height of my physical and
sexual prowess, and it was obvious.
The idea of paying for sex was not foreign to me, having done some hustling
myself a few years ago. But what this kid didn't know was that I had no
intention of paying him for anything that happened. Except with the
ultimate payment.
He told me his name as we walked back down the street toward my "place," a
small one-bedroom flat in a run-down building near the edge of downtown. I
used it only for an occasional trick, or when I needed to get away for a
day or two; sparsely furnished, it betrayed no inkling of the personality
or preferences of its occupant. At the present time, I was the only tenant,
so it was completely private. During our brief conversation, Timmy also
indicated that he was living on the street and was far away from home. He
said he had some friends in town, but nobody he could call family.
We soon came to my flat and I unlocked the door. There was a small closet
at the entrance, and a short hallway leading to the living/dining area. The
kitchenette was off to the left and the single bedroom to the right. I
suggested that Timmy go into the bedroom and make himself comfortable. He
looked a little nervous, although still retaining his streetwise cockiness,
and he sauntered into the bedroom, checking it out.
I followed him, taking off my jacket and unbuttoning my shirt. His eyes
watched me carefully. "You might as well get comfortable, Timmy. You know
we want to be naked."
"Yeah, I know," he said. He was looking at my well-defined body, at the
tufts of hair between my large plum-colored nipples that ran down my
stomach into my slacks. I undid my belt. "Perhaps you'd like to help me
undress?"
He reached over and lowered my zipper, allowing me to step out of my
slacks. I kicked off my loafers, and he sank to his knees to relieve me of
my socks, one by one. Kneeling down like that, his head came up to crotch
level, and he was staring at the big bulge in my boxerbriefs.
"Take off your clothes, and then you can take this off," I said, indicating
my shorts. I watched as he quickly doffed his pull-on shirt and then kicked
off his tennis and stepped out of his slightly ragged jeans. He never took
his eyes off my crotch. Now we were both clad only in under shorts; his
were jockeys, remarkably white ones, considering the fact that he mustn't
know from day to day where he was going to sleep. He looked a great deal
smaller and less robust than when I first saw him; I decided that he was
probably a little younger than I thought, perhaps even 18.
But he was definitely interested in what lay behind my shorts. He pulled
his own down, and stepped out of them, his five-inch dick hard as a rock.
Then he reached for my shorts and pulled them slowly down, enjoying the
process of revealing what they had hidden. I was getting hard now, reaching
the thickness and length of a full erection. He gasped.
"Shit, Mister, that's the biggest dick I ever saw!" He said it like he
meant it, but I knew he had probably turned tricks with guys bigger than
me. Still, I knew it wasn't your run-of-the-mill power tool. A little over
nine inches and a good 7 inches around made my cock one worth remarking
about. He knelt again, and with his hands, took my cock into his mouth.
He couldn't handle it all, but he was damned good. I don't think there was
much left to take by the time he gagged on the first down stroke, but he
quickly got the rhythm going. After ten or twelve quick strokes, he licked
around the head and down to my balls, all the while making little
whimpering noises.
I reached down, pulled him up, then picked him up in my arms and placed him
on the bed. He smiled up at me as I laid him on his back and lowered my
head to his own hard dick. I swallowed him in one gulp, to the root, and he
gasped, holding my head with his hands and starting to fuck my face. I knew
he was getting ready to cum, but I also knew he was young and could
probably cum four or five times without stopping. So I let him fuck my face
as I played with his drawn-up balls and fingered his little rosebud ass.
"Oh, God! Are you gonna fuck me, Mister?" It was a plea, not a question. I
knew he wanted it. "Yes, Timmy. I'm going to fuck you. You want me to,
don't you?" He answered by blowing his load in my mouth, groaning and
whimpering and still fucking my face. My mouth was full of his cum, a lot
for such a little boy, I thought, and a very tasty treat, as I allowed it
to trickle down my throat. I was going to fuck him, but first I wanted him
to finish what he had started earlier. I crawled up so I was straddling his
chest, then leaned down and put my cock in his mouth. "Suck on this,
Timmy," I commanded, as I plunged it in hard. "MMffft, urggh," he choked.
His eyes looked up at me and for the first time I saw fear in him.
Something about that look spurred me on, and I shoved my dick into his
throat as far as it would go. He fought me then, kicking upwards, trying
desperately to get away from the huge pole being shoved down his gullet. I
wouldn't let him up, but I pulled my cock out of his mouth and slapped him,
hard, across the face. He started crying, and then I shoved my dick back in
again, harder than ever this time.
He continued to struggle, and I held him tightly, fucking his face almost
as hard as he had fucked mine. There were tears in his eyes and snot ran
out of his nose. He tried biting my cock and I kneed him so hard in the
groin I could see the whites of his eyes as his pupils shot up. The harder
he fought the harder I fucked, and I could tell I was losing control.
I jerked my cock out of his gasping mouth and slammed him over on his face,
pulling his asshole up in the air. "You wanted to get fucked? Now, you're
going to get fucked!" I shouted, and I plunged all nine inches into his
asshole, down all the way to my balls in one vicious attack. And I started
fucking then, hard, pulling it out and plunging it in all the way. Blood
appeared on the sheets; it was almost gushing out of his asshole, and the
more blood there was, the harder I fucked.
I spun him around. I wanted to watch his face as I fucked him. He was
yelling and sobbing, tears flowing from his eyes and snot from his nose. I
brought my face down to his and kissed him on his screaming mouth, forcing
my tongue into him at the same time as I fucked harder and harder. I licked
the snot away from his nose and mouth and tasted it; it was like nectar.
Again, I spun him around and pulled out of his bleeding asshole. I leaned
down and began cleaning his hole with my tongue, sucking the blood away and
licking and soothing his ravaged hole. He was still crying, but I noticed
he was pushing his ass into my face as I tongued him.
Once again I replaced my tongue with my prick and jammed it in, proceeding
to fuck as hard or harder than before. I reached under his chest and
started pulling on his nipples, now, hard, the way I like it. He screamed
all the louder and I turned him over and slapped him around until his
screams turned to groans and his eyes filled with fear and hatred. I spit
on him. "Drink this, you little street fag!"
Now, on his back, his reddened tits were open to my mouth. I sucked on them
first, then bit them, hard enough to draw blood, and he went rigid, gasped,
and then screamed again. All this time I was still fucking him, and biting
his tits, and every once in a while I would look at him and slap him again.
I was hitting him hard; his eyes would cross and it looked like he might
lose consciousness.
Suddenly, I came, despite Herculean efforts not to. It felt like quarts of
cum were gushing out of me and directly into that bloody passage; I was
breathless, gasping for breath, my heart was pounding and I realized I was
shouting something. Timmy had this glazed look on his face, but then I
noticed that he had cum himself, apparently while I was fucking him and
hurting him so badly.
I licked his cum off his trembling body, and turned him over. Once again, I
tongued his sore ass, drinking his blood and sucking my cum from the
orifice. I got my tongue way into his asshole, biting the tender tissue,
causing more blood to flow and now tasting blood and cum and what could
only be Timmy's shit.
I pulled back, and inserted a couple of fingers in that tender ass. He
tightened up again, but I went forward anyway, now with three fingers, then
a fourth. The blood began to flow again, but it wasn't enough lubrication
to make it easy. I got my hand in and pushed, slowly but inexorably. He
began to yell, a low groan turning into a horrible scream as my hand made
it through his tight sphincter and into the anus itself. With my other
hand, I covered his mouth and told him to shut up or else.
I reached over to the nightstand and took some lube I had there. It was
just too hard for me to maneuver without some lubrication, so I pulled my
hand out of Timmy's ass and licked it off, then covered it with the lube
and shoved it back in. All the while he was whimpering, and when I
re-entered his low groan was almost heart breaking. I was hard again, as
hard as I'd ever been.
This time I got my arm into his asshole and watched it going in deeper and
deeper. Timmy had passed out by now, but I wanted him awake, so I waited a
moment, kissing his nose and mouth and eyes, speaking gently to him, until
he stirred and looked up at me in confusion and pain. It was then I felt
something inside him, a piece of his guts or something, and I opened my
hand and grabbed tightly and pulled for all I was worth. His eyes flashed
suddenly, he screamed again and went limp, as I pulled his guts out with my
hand. I just pulled and pulled until my hand came out, filled with tissue
and guts and blood and god knows what was in there.
I rubbed it on his face and in his mouth and nose, but he was silent. I
reached back into his asshole, all the way, and grabbed another handful of
guts, pulling them hard. I took some of that bloody pulp and slopped it on
his genitals, and then I leaned down and took his limp cock into my mouth.
I swallowed his balls, too, and then I bit down as hard as I could, chewing
and tearing, like a wild animal with his prey.
There was blood everywhere. I raised my head, pulling with all my strength,
and soon realized my mouth was free of his body. I had his penis and his
balls in my mouth and I chewed on them. It was like chewing on pieces of
rubber or elastic, but I was eating him! I had to cum. His asshole was too
open now to fuck, so I got on top of his face and plunged my steel-hard
cock into his lax mouth once again. This time, there was no resistance, and
I fucked his face until I came again, harder than ever, so hard I was
sobbing myself before it was over.
I lay there for a long time, licking him, tasting his blood and guts and
chewing on bits and pieces of him. I wondered if I could get my hand up his
ass again far enough to rip out his heart. I wanted to eat it, too. I went
into the kitchen and got a large knife and plunged it into his chest.
It took me several hours to get rid of the body. I cut it up into
manageable pieces and threw them into two large garbage bags. I knew nobody
would miss him for weeks, if at all; he would simply disappear, as did so
many of the street kids. But it would take weeks to clean up the bedroom,
to get rid of the blood which had splattered all over the bed and walls, as
well as into the mattress and carpet. Next time I'd have to be a little
more careful, perhaps use some plastic throws, or something.
Next time? Well, yes, there have been several next times. I found a kindred
soul, a big black man named Julian who has a 14-inch war club, big enough
to kill a street kid without trying. And he knows how to make a body
disappear and where to find the most desirable young men. We've become
lovers; he and I rarely leave each other for several days after an
adventure, preferring to stay in bed with each other and relive the
excitement of our time with tough love.
