WARNING: This story is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual descriptions and language. If you are a minor (under 21) or if you are offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading now. Any resemblance between this story and a real event is coincidental. The participants are imaginary; their actions have no negative consequences other than those portrayed in the story. The story is intended for entertainment and should not be emulated in the real world.
Maybe you've heard of FantasySex.Com, maybe not. Maybe you even used their services at one time or another, maybe not. Whatever the case, they sure do a booming business in the sexual fantasy trade. Any sexual fantasy, however wild, however kinky, is within their bailiwick. All anyone has to do is ask for it, pay the steep fees, and their fantasy can become a harmless reality. Their motto is: You dream it, we'll scheme it! Anything goes--as long as no one gets hurt, that is.
But, friend, there are many different kinds of hurt now, aren't there?
Joe Wade looked at the new assignment sheet in front of him. As Production Director, it was up to Wade to set up each fantasy scenario. He had to gather the "cast" and, if desired by the customer, have a video crew in place. And most folks were willing to pay the extra fees necessary to have their own personal, take-it-home-and-watch-it-over-and-over, DVD video digital copy. This particular scenario was no exception.
Wade read: Harry D., a 25 year old white guy, blond hair, blue eyes, 5' 7" tall, 145 lbs., married, 2 kids, wanted to be in a "prison" setting with five or six big and rough black dudes. They were all to be well endowed, with no one having smaller than eight inches.
It was to be his first night on the "cellblock" and the black guys were to immediately size him up as a piece of new jailhouse meat. They were to "punk" him and "turn him out." Make him their "male prison slut" for at least four hours, five if it could be managed. He wanted to be treated roughly, harshly, cruelly, totally degraded and humiliated--but not hurt physically. They were to be extremely forceful, but not the least harmful.
In the initial stage, he was to be forced to shave all the hair off his legs, arms, underarms, chest, and crotch. In essence, making him more girlish. He was to be forced to wear a red garter belt, nipple clamps, and perfume. These were to be supplied by the client. Wade had told the client that all such things were part of the FantasySex price, but for some reason, the guy wanted to use his own items.
After the initial stage was completed, he was to be "forced" to his knees and ordered to suck their big black cocks. One of the guys was to be chosen to play the gang leader and was to be called Banger. He even had a rough draft of a script Banger was to follow. Banger was to say things along the lines of:
"When we shoot our loads you better swallow it all, you cocksucking faggot. You understand? I don't want to see even one drop of our cum hit the floor. You got that?"
And, "Suck it nice and slow, girl, to show me how much you love my big black cock because your white ass belongs to the black man now!"
And, "Deep-throat my big black prick, you fucking cocksucking pussy! And when I shoot, you'd better swallow it all and not spill a drop!"
And, "Keep your eyes open, cocksucker. I want you looking at hairy black crotches. I'll be sneaking peeks at you and if I catch you with your eyes closed you're getting a beating."
And, "Put your hands on his ass cheeks and pull him to you as you suck him off."
And, "Suck his balls, real good! Get them good and wet!"
Wade wondered just how well the "Banger" would do when it came to remembering his lines, especially in the heat of the action. Oh, well, he thought, as long as he comes even close, the client will probably never notice.
The client also was to be "forced" to take their cocks up his ass. Simultaneously with his being mouth fucked, at some point in the game. He referred to this dual action as getting "spit roasted." As before, the lube was to be provided by the client.
Each black guy was to drop two loads. One in the client's mouth and one in his ass. The first, the mouth loads, was an absolute that he insisted be fulfilled. It was okay if the guys had to fake cumming in his ass, he understood that, but he was adamant about the mouth loads. He wanted it guaranteed that he'd swallow six loads, by six guys, and no less.
And the kid even had a basic script for the rest of the gang, too. He wanted them to use words like "faggot" and "cocksucker" and whatever else they could ad-lib that was in the humiliation vein.
Wade could see it now. Being unprofessional actors, who don't exactly have their timing down pat, he could picture six black guys all yelling, "faggot cocksucker" at the same time! Shit, he thought, add some music and you could dance to it.
Wade remembered a past scenario where a petite housewife wanted the eight guys, who were playing her school chums, to call her "slut" and "whore" during the action. What a mess that was! Wade, playing one of her chums, probably heard "Slutty whore!" a hundred times that night. It had almost turned into a cheerleading chant! Gimme an S! The amazing thing was, the housewife later sent him a note saying how perfect she thought everything went, how it was way beyond her expectations. Go figure.
This particular "prison" client also wanted to play "Ride the Whip" in which he would sit on Banger's lap, Banger's dick fully up his ass, and be "forced" to suck off the other guys, one after the other. Was it to be filmed? But of course. 8pm tonight was to be the Showtime. In studio 5. Make that cellblock 5.
Wade looked at a penciled-in note along the margin: If it's OK, this guy also wants the black dudes to piss in his mouth. And he wants Banger to say: "Swallow all our piss, punk. One drop hits the floor and your ass is getting a hurt put on it!" Or something to that effect. It was initialed KG. That would be Kendra Gooding, a customer relation's woman.
To inspire them to pee, the client was bringing his own brand of imported beer. The men were to drink just enough beer to get them pissing, but not enough to stop them from cumming. One thing about this client, Wade thought, he knows what he wants.
Wade put his OK on it.
Many guys, even some gals, had wanted the same pee-in-my-mouth thing before. It was becoming a somewhat popular request. Water Sports they called it. Perhaps, he thought, I should add it to our Website. As a special feature. For the truly discriminating "taste"! An acquired "taste" at that. Maybe with free beer tossed in. Hmmm. He tossed the word "taste" around in his mind a few more times: "Taste this! It's piss!" and "Don't be hasty, piss is tasty!" and his favorite... so far, "Piss tastes like sweet cum that's been marinated in vinegar!" Classy, he thought. Should appeal to the gay male crowd.
Pushing these thoughts from his mind, for now, Wade hollered over toward Becky Ryan, his assistant cast coordinator, "Becky, how's Benny Gee coming with those black guys from his crew for the prison bit? Showtime's at 8, you know."
"No prob, Joe, Benny's got six big black prisoner-types all lined up and ready to go. They'll be on the set at 7:30 sharp, awaiting further instructions. No guy has less than eight inches, as the client requested."
Wade nodded as he turned back to his desk and put a check mark next to 5-6 black men. Good old Benny Gee. He had never let him down. And he knew Benny's crew would have no problems over pissing down a young white boy's throat, either. No problems, whatsoever.
Wade wondered how Benny Gee checked out the crews' peckers for length verification. Did he just take their word for it? Probably not. Knowing Benny, and what a perfectionist he was, Wade pictured him, ruler in hand, yelling "Next!" Wade made a mental note to ask Benny the next time he saw him. Should be good for a laugh or two.
Wade had used Benny's crew many times before, especially with white women, married or not, who wanted to dabble with some exotic black meat. Black gangbangs were hot right now, the "in" thing for bored, rich white women to try out. And the gals always wanted the men to be VWE, very well endowed. Gay men were quickly jumping on the bandwagon, too. Yeah, Wade thought, black cock was a hot ticket item right now.
Hell, at a recent cocktail party, he'd overheard a gorgeous, married white woman say, to four of her chichi girlfriends, "You'll never guess what happened to me, girls! I was gangbanged last weekend by seven rough virile black men." She winked at the girls and then whispered. "And, they were so very well endowed, I'm still cumming! Tee hee."
With the video crew on standby, and a rough-hewn "prison" setting in place, this scenario was just about a done deal. All it needed now was the star performer, the blond jailhouse "punk" kid who had a deep craving for black dick, black cum, and a few quarts of beer-laden black piss.
Wade was surprised at how fast the humiliation scenario was catching on, especially among straight white men. There seemed to be some need in them to be totally subservient to other men. To be used, humiliated, debased, a cum receptacle for rough and horny, manly type men. The guys being black seemed to add to the humiliation picture.
And, Wade thought, it seemed to have more to do with a desire to lose, or concede, some of their power than it had to do with any latent gay tendencies. Similar to the CEO who goes to a hooker who specializes in degradation techniques. "Spank me, Momma, I've been a naughty boy!" Yeah, a psychologist could have a field day with this shit.
Wade didn't ponder any further the psychological aspect of this new phenomenon. As far as he was concerned, whatever the reason, it was good for the business.
Wade placed the "prison" assignment sheet face down on the works in progress pile, entered the pertinent information into his computer, and checked out the next fantasy request sheet.
Martha C., a 50ish white woman, gray hair, blue eyes, 5' 3" tall, married. It was a thirtieth anniversary present from the hubby. Seems the old gal had heard about glory holes and had found the idea sexually irresistible. A real turn on for her. She wanted to experience what it felt like to have 10 to 12 strange men, unseen by her, stick their cocks through a hole in a wooden board and have her suck them off from the other side. And, as she was a prominent citizen, there was to be video of only the side the men were on. And, as hubby had put it, lots of close-ups, please, especially of her lips and their cocks. Happy anniversary, my dear! Enjoy!
The glory hole "set" was already checked off as they had done this scenario many times before. It was quite popular, especially among gay men. The video guy was prepped and had his instructions. All that remained was coming up with a gang of men. So far he had eleven "for sures" lined up. Hubby had been quite adamant that it be at least ten, but preferably twelve, if it could be managed. Money, he had said, was no object.
He would have tapped Benny Gee for a twelfth, but the husband had stipulated that because this was his wife's first time with anyone but him, he didn't want to take the chance on her panicking by introducing black into the equation. Neither one of them were, he said, the least bit prejudice, but, and in spite of her saying she wouldn't be upset by having black men present, he didn't want to take the chance. Wade understood. He'd met this kind of weird reasoning before. Oh, well, he thought, it's their party.
Wade knew they would accept the eleven he had, but if he could find a twelfth, why not make them happy? Besides, he prided himself on his ability to please a customer. And it meant an extra fee, which sure didn't hurt the bottom line.
He'd volunteer himself except he had to play at being a Hell's Angel type as part of a young married couple's "kidnap and gangbang" fantasy. Complete with her young hubby, tied up and gagged, watching it all take place before his helpless eyes. And filmed, to be sure. A birthday present from the hubby to his sweet, young wife of one year.
The couple were to be "kidnapped" from an elevator in this very building, blindfolded, and taken to studio 1, which had been set up to look like a cheap saloon, complete with sawdust on the floor. With motorcycle gang paraphernalia showing here and there, the scenario called for exactly ten "gang" members, no more, no less. It, for some strange reason, had to be exactly ten. Amazing, he thought, what is important to some folks.
The husband was to be trussed, hands and feet, with duct tape, and a piece of it across his mouth as a gag. The wife was to be "gently" slapped a few times and then forced to do a striptease to the song Born To Be Wild. When her dance was done and she was totally nude, she was to get on her knees, alongside hubby. The "gang" was to then form a circle around her and the helpless hubby.
The gang was then to "slowly" strip naked and have her go from cock to cock, clockwise around the circle, sucking them all off until each one had cum a load in her mouth. She was to spit each load into a large glass. When the last cum load was in the glass, hubby's gag was to be removed and he and she, taking turns, was to be made to drink the glass dry.
She was then going to be gang raped on a dirty old bare mattress that was lying
on the sawdust floor. The couple was even going to supply the mattress! Where they got the damned thing from, Wade could only wonder. But it didn't surprise him that they had specified they wanted to take the cum-soaked thing home with them.
The "gang" was to single, double, and triple penetrate the wifey. And use her in any other way human creativity could dream up. For three full days and nights. With breaks only for food, toilet, and whatnot. On days two and three, the entire gang of ten was to be replaced with ten new guys. Because this entailed having thirty men available, Wade had tapped Benny Gee, with approval from the clients, of course.
"Black, schmack!" the wife had said when asked about it. "As long as they're rough and tough, I don't care." Wade now had eighteen white guys and twelve black.
According to the couple's attached notes, they were still considering a few other ideas. It read like a shopping list! Like whether or not hubby should also get some motorcycle gang cock in his mouth and ass. Or if they should be forced to have sex with each other on the dirty mattress, with the gang cheering them on. If so, at what time during the action? Should pissing take place? Should hubby be forced to masturbate? Etc, etc, etc. These kids were in a quandary, faced the endless possibilities. They'd let Wade know an hour before shoot time.
The weirder point, Wade noted, was no protection was to be used and the wife was not on the pill. The couple had expressed their hopes that she would become pregnant by one of the men, while never knowing which one.
Wade guessed the husband was barren and this was their way to have a kid. Perhaps, he mused, they'd get a turn on every time they looked at the child, a reminder of their kidnap and gangbang weekend. An FBI profiler would probably call that taking a "souvenir" home with them. Ah, well, Wade thought, different strokes for different folks. None of my beeswax. I just gotta make 'em happy.
While trying to conjure up in his mind where he was going to get the twelfth for the glory hole bit, he spotted Timmy Case, a new kid at the firm. Why not? he thought. The kid could probably use the extra dough.
"Hey, Timmy, come over here a sec, willya?" Timmy sauntered over to Wade's desk and stood there looking young and restless. As he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, he asked Wade, "What's up, boss?"
Wade had seen Timmy in filmed action of one of those popular "innocent-girl-does-Dallas" fantasies where she takes on the entire football team--in a locker room. An often-requested scenario. You could have the "coach," thrown in, too--if it was so desired. This scenario had many variations, such as coachie buys the boys a hooker for winning an important game. Or, the innocent woman reporter, having crashed the locker room for a scoop, gets so turned on... blah, blah.
In the film, the Case kid, wearing nothing but shoulder pads and a team jersey, was seen to be hanging like a fucking horse! Twelve inches and as thick around as the bottom of a Coke bottle.
And he was a heavy cummer, too, which was abundantly clear in the film, and would be just what his glory hole couple had requested. Every guy was to have not had an orgasm in at least a week. He wanted his better half to have her first taste of other men's cum dished out in pints. Wade thought, not like his usually smallish teaspoon spurts?
"You know what a glory hole is, dontcha?" he asked Timmy.
"Yeah, I know all about them. I was in that same scenario last month, dontcha remember, boss?" Wade nodded even though he didn't remember it at all.
"Good," Wade said. "When was the last time you ejaculated, Timmy?"
"You heard me, bucko. When was the last time you shot your wad! Blew your load. Spilled your seed. Popped your cocky. Get it?" Timmy nodded, looking puzzled.
"Geez, boss, I don't know. Week or more, I guess. Why? You hungry?" He laughed.
"Yeah, wise-ass," Wade said, giving Timmy a sham pissed-off look. "Put it on my next salad, will you? And hold the mayo. No, dumbfuck... I need a guy for a glory hole scenario for tonight, in Studio 2 at 9 pm. You available, dumbshits--yes or no?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I have nothing better lined up. What's the poop?"
"Old gal wants to suck off a dozen guys through the hole. Hubby won't be there. He wants her to feel free to totally enjoy herself without any guilt splashing on her by his presence. He'll enjoy the tape later, I guess. With or without her... who knows? Oh, be there at 8:30, no later than 8:45. Studio 2. Got it?" Timmy nodded as Wade waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal.
As Timmy walked away, Wade called out, "And, Timmy? Don't drop any loads until tonight, kid; the hubby wants her to have nothing but mouthfuls, not dribs and drabs. OK?"
Timmy yelled back over his shoulder, "Don't worry, boss, I'll give her a load so big she'll think she's gonna drown!" Timmy snapped his fingers in the air and did a little dance step by clicking his heels together.
Wade thought, as he watched Timmy depart, so young and dumb and fulla cum! Oh, to be his age again. Oh, well, I'll enjoy that young, and oh so innocent, wife tonight. Happy birthday, wifey, and by the way, here's a baby!
As he thought, he realized he hadn't cum in a few days himself. Well, he'd give the married bitch a nice mouthful for sure, and, while he was at it, maybe a facial, too. Give her hubby something to really watch.
Shit, he was getting hard just thinking about it. Back to work, Wade, old boy, he reminded himself, tonight will take care of itself. And, he thought, if I really enjoy the woman, I'll stay all three days! They might not even notice me, but I'll put on a simple disguise, just in case. He'd bet dollars to donuts that no one would notice that, on days two and three, there were now eleven men on the field! And, if the couple bitched, well, he'd just have to send one of the other guys packing now, wouldn't he?
Shit, Timmy thought, double shit. He had arrived on time, early in fact, but the elevator had gotten stuck between floors. Again. Third time in a week. He was now waiting for old Charlie, the night manager, to free him from this predicament.
"Come on, Charlie," he said out loud. "You lazy fuck, where are you? I ain't got all night, you dumb shit. Move your ass, dummo!"
"Hold your fucking horses, sonny! And your fucking tongue! Or I'll leave your raggedy ass in there 'til Monday morning and you can just go and piss and crap in your socks!" It was old Charlie.
"Sorry, Charlie," Timmy said. "But I'm late for studio 2."
"Then you don't have a problem, kiddo. They have you down as guy number nine. You got plenty of time. True, the old gal has already finished off the first guy and by now she's probably polished off dude number two and has number three halfway home. From what I heard, she gives such great head, they rest will drop like flies!" Charlie giggled.
Timmy knew old Charlie loved to watch the scenarios and probably beat his pud at the same time, too. And, now and then, when an old guy was called for, old Charlie didn't hesitate to volunteer his services. He protested that he only did it for the extra cash, but no one believed that bullshit. Christ, Charlie would actually drool when fucking some young girl who was living out her fantasy of screwing an old fart. Charlie had fucked one young girl so hard, for so long, she couldn't walk right away and had to be helped out to her car by her boyfriend. Covered in old Charlie's sweat.
And, if truth be told, and film never lies, old Charlie had a thick, seven inch plus weapon that he knew how to put to good use. Strictly for the cash, of course.
Timmy thanked Charlie for rescuing him and the two of them walked the short distance to studio 2. The On Air sign was lit up signifying that video was now being shot. Charlie used his magnetic keycard to open the door and stepped aside to let Timmy enter first.
Charlie was right. The old gal had polished off guy number two and was working to beat the band on guy number three. He could see her bright, ruby red lips through the 4" hole in the plywood board that had been propped up against an open closet. They were wrapped around a thickset penis at the moment and were illuminated by the red "cathouse" light bulb on her side of the board.
Timmy could hear slurping and sucking noises coming out of her. The moans she let out also told him she was really into it and thoroughly enjoying herself as she sucked away.
The cameraman was down on his knees getting a close up of the glory hole; obviously taking a shot that was tight in on cock and lips. Hubby, Timmy thought, should love that one.
Guy's numbers one and two were the only ones with their pants on. They had to wait until the scenario was fully over, just in case there were camera problems. All the other men were naked from the waist down, with only their socks on, and in various stages of getting hard. All were playing with their cocks and balls in anticipation of their turn at batting practice.
The smell of male sex, of male musk, permeated the studio. And, for inspiration, three different fuck films were playing, their sound muted, on three individual DVD sets.
Timmy shed his pants and underwear and, despite of, and under Charlie's gaze, started playing with his penis. He might be ninth, but it paid to plan ahead. One never knew if the guys in front of him might not be struck down by some unheard of heart attack epidemic and he'd be pressed into urgent service. If he was to be the one to save the day, he didn't want to be caught short, so to speak.
As he stroked his fat piece of manhood and felt it swelling up, he noticed a large drop of precum on the tip. Shit, he thought, I got a lot of it in me! Charlie, ever vigilant, handed him a moist towlette. He had no sooner wiped the tip than another glob popped out. Hell, he was just oozing and bleeding cum!
"Geez, kid," Charlie said, his eyes opened wide than usual. "You've got some big bat there! And it's leaking something fierce!"
"Yeah, Charlie, it was a gift from my parents."
Charlie sniggered and said, "Well, kid, too bad they couldn't find one that didn't drip so much!" He laughed. Timmy chose to ignore this witticism.
Guy number three started moaning and sounded as if he was close to unloading his spunk. Timmy could see the guy clearly under the studio lights as he moved his hips in and out and mouth fucked the ruby red lips.