Chapter 1: Duke Daze!

When I had my very first orgasm, as a young boy, I couldn't believe how fantastic it felt. I had masturbated while looking at a deck of French playing cards. Naked women were shown performing all kinds of sex acts on men who were wearing only the proverbial pair of black socks. The pictures were in black and white and very grainy, but they filled the bill.

I was very turned on by the ones where the woman was taking the man's cock into her mouth. And, the amazing thing is, I didn't know why. All I knew was for some unknown and strange reason, the sight of it made my cock and balls stir into full battle mode. Which was certainly good enough for masturbation.

I masturbated quite a lot back then. Three times a day was usual for me, but many days I would spank the monkey five or six times. My record for one day was eleven times! Yeah, my dick was sore, but very happy!

I just couldn't get enough of that fantastic, wonderful cum-shooting feeling.

At one point, I don't remember exactly when, I was curious about tasting my own sperm. To do this I unloaded my cum into a waxed paper cup, then upended the cup and let it slide down into my open mouth. I then swished it around in my mouth before swallowing it all. Although the taste was strange to me, I altogether didn't hate its effect on my tongue and throat. Like your first Scotch, it could be seen as a bit of an acquired taste.

It reminded me somewhat of salty onions. I also liked the fact that this salty onion taste would stay in the back of my throat for hours and hours and could be tasted everytime I swallowed. From that day forward, even today, I usually swallow my own cum after masturbating. And, if not in the mood to do so, I cum into a small jar and freeze it. Later, when I feel the need to taste some cum, I'll nuke it (15 seconds on high, Ms. Stewart!) to warm it a tad, and swallow it down. Sometimes the jar would have more than one load in it, like three or four. I'd dish it out to my mouth a little at time, extending and savoring the taste.

Well, anyway, one Saturday afternoon, back then, found me tossing a Spaulding rubber ball against the stoop of a brownstone. My life would be changed forever on that day when Johnny Dukes showed up.

Johnny Dukes, or as everyone in the neighborhood called him, The Duke, at 17, was also the roughest, toughest kid in the neighorhood. He stood about six feet tall and was over two hundred pounds of solid muscle, the product of daily weight lifting.

The Duke was one rough bastard, to be sure. Grown men feared this kid. And he would fight anyone at the drop of an insult, real or imagined. Rumor had it that he had never lost a fight, which I found was, as did most folks, very easy to believe.

It was also rumored that a boy named Robbie had been killed by The Duke because he had somehow displeased him. Robbie, so the rumor went, was then dumped into the local lake. Or, in some versions, buried in the local park. Take your pick.

Years later I found this tale to be absolutely untrue. Robbie's parents had simply moved out of town taking him with them, as good parents most times do.

Seems the rumor was started by none other than The Duke himself, probably to enhance his already fearful reputation. It sure worked! Everyone I knew at the time believed it was true and the story got even more sordid with each telling. It grew from a mere killing to a full-fledged hack-Robby-up-into-little-pieces story. Brrr!

It was also rumored, which I later found out was true, that Robbie was The Duke's "boy," his personal sex slave. Which, in a strange way, gave Robbie, a thin, spindly kid, a certain kind of you-better-leave-me-alone aura. Where before Robbie had been teased for being a tad feminine, from the moment he became "Johnny's Boy," or "The Duke's Boy," no one, not even the rougher kids, messed with him.

It was common to hear one tough kid tell another tough kid, "Hey, man, leave him alone! He's The Duke's boy!" Such was the fear all the neighborhood kids had of Johnny "The Duke" Dukes.

It was also common knowledge throughout the neighborhood that Robbie liked sucking dick. All a guy had to do to get blown was get Robbie alone and say the magic words, "On your knees!" Robbie would quickly comply and wait for the guy's cock to be offered.

These same magic words had been, it was also well known and found to be true, used by fifteen guys from a rival high school football team. After one particular game was history, they had taken him into the men's room, put him into one of the stalls and, one after the other, took turns feeding Robbie their cocks and cum.

It was also said, though not proven, that Robbie loved it so much he went to their school looking for a rematch. At least that was the story going around at the time. Or I should say more accurately, stories, which were many and varied. Not only had the rematch taken place, so the story went, but the number of guys had jumped to 20. Or 30. Or 50. Or any number in between. Pick one. In all versions, Robbie was named their team mascot: Tiger Mouth, the Maneater.

One truly wild version had the guys keeping Robbie in a tool shed behind the school for a week, using his oral services at will. In this scenario, Robbie was said to have worn a dog collar and was chained to a lawn mowing tractor.

Now, if The Duke had found out about these shenanigans and these guys usurping his private stock, so to speak, all hell would have occurred. Because peace remained, I assume Duke stayed ignorant of it all.

"Watcha doin' squirt?" The Duke said from behind me. This startled me so much I jumped. "Nothing, Duke," I said, my fear immediately coming into the picture. "Just playing around, Duke." Man, I was nervous! He looked even tougher up close and personal.

He then demanded a cigarette. I took one out of the pack I had rolled up in my tee shirt's sleeve. Then he demanded I light it for him. Then he demanded I, 'careful now, kid!' place the lit butt into his mouth. I slavishly complied, my hands trembling. No one, but no one, ever denied or refused a direct request from The Duke's. I was sure enough too scared to be the first sucker to test those waters.

We had some lame teenage chitchat and then, at some point, The Duke invited me to go to his cellar clubhouse to lift some weights with him. Now, I sure as shit didn't say, "No Thanks, Dukie, old chum, I've got better things to do! See ya around sometime!"

No sirree, Bob! The Robbie in the lake episode was way too fresh in my active young mind. Shit, if he told me we were off to rob a bank, I would merely have asked, "Which one, Duke?"

Thus, off we went to The Duke's "clubhouse." The Duke and The Dope.

Duke lived with his father, who was disabled from a car crash. Seems Duke and his parents were out for one of those Sunday go-nowhere drives, when the father, mighty drunk at the time, lost control of the wheel and tried to find out just how hard those concrete pilings along the highway really were. Duke got off with a few bumps and bruises. His mother, poor woman, died instantly. His father was paralyzed from the waist down.

Dear old dad now spent everyday in his bed on the topmost floor watching TV and swilling beer. In essence, Duke now ran the household and, in effect, it was his house to do with it what he wished.

The Duke's house, on a corner, was unkempt in appearance and needed more repairs than you could list on one sheet of paper. The lawn, if one could call it that, needed a good mowing and the dandelions ruled the grass.

The Duke led me around to the back of the house where we entered his cellar "clubhouse" by going through a wooden door which lay flat on the ground. He bent down, opened a lock, and, as he lifted the door up, told me to enter.

I went down six or seven old wooden steps, on very unsure and shaky legs, and found myself in a not-too-bad-looking cellar room. The neatness of the place totally surprised me. It looked as if it had a regular cleaning routine in place. The floor was wall-to-wall carpeted, a pleasant green color, and one wall was fully mirrored. There was a sofa and desk present and I found the sight of the place warm and friendly. Especially the wall covered in pictures of women in various stages of undress. The place sure looked male-friendly, to say the least.

In front of the fully-mirrored wall was a weight lifting setup and alongside the weights was a full-length, roll-around mirror, the type you might find in most men's clothing stores.

The Duke got me a bottle of beer, the first I'd ever had, and we talked, if you could call it that, about things that I no longer remember. I do remember the beer hitting me quickly, as did the second beer he "offered" me.

In no time, I had a real buzz on and my fear of the Duke had greatly subsided. Oh, fore sure, it was hovering above my head somewhere, but we were now buddies, old Dukie and me. Two chummy buddies downing a few brewskies together and chatting it up. To old buds who would soon lift weights together. Yeah, right! Was I young and dumb, or what?

"Ok, Scooter, let's get down to some weight lifting." The Duke said this as he stripped off his tee shirt and started removing his cut-off jeans. I'll never forget him then adding, "Get naked, stupid, after all we don't want to get our clothes all sweaty now, do we?" Made perfect sense to me at the time.

Man, how naive could I have been? But it sounded logical to me and I foresaw no other possibility looming other than two guys lifting weights who cared about their clothing. Maybe it was the beer. Or my age. It was probably both.

After he had stripped off his shorts and underwear, I couldn't help but notice that although he didn't have an erection, even in its flaccid state his cock was longer than my usually 7 hard inches. It hung down way down and flopped from side to side as he moved, slapping against his legs. I guess I stared a bit because he said, "Yeah, it's a beauty, ain't it?" He reached down and fondled himself, twirling his cock in a circle and laughing. "You like looking at it?"

I had no idea how to answer that question. A "No!" would have been an insult thrown at him and a definite "Yes!" would have meant something else entirely. I felt myself redden up and quickly averted my eyes from his crotch area. I also felt as if I had been caught doing something I shouldn't have done, but I didn't truly know what that was. The two close friends I had, Richie and Donny, had yet to discuss "fags" and "queers" with me, or each other for that matter.

So, very lamely, I'm sure, I said, "It's... it's a beauty, all right, Duke. I wish I had one just like it. You must drive the girls wild with it!" He just looked at me and grinned which made me more nervous than I can tell you. Then he motioned for me to catch up with him in the getting naked category.

Well, in a short time, there we were, in his clubhouse, both naked as jaybirds, Duke, the killer of Robbie, and little old me, the beer-sodden sheep, ready for the slaughter.

Being totally naked in front of The Duke felt very strange to me, indeed, as did the fact that I had a stirring in my balls area. It confused me and I fought back the urging to have an erection. I also fought the urge to peek at The Duke's cock again, which he was now unashamedly playing with and jerking it, pulling on it.

A super-quick stolen glance in the men's store mirror told me that he was getting an erection, a fact that both scared and fascinated me. His cock looked huge, unhuman-like.

I hadn't even the slightest clue as to what was going to transpire. I had been naked with other guys before in the school gym's shower room so his "getting all sweaty" comment made perfect sense to me. And the next weird thing we did made perfect sense to me, too. Ha ha! Friggin' idiot!

He grabbed my arm and led me into a small bathroom that had a stand-in, stall shower, a commode, and a very tiny porcelain sink. The small room was spotlessly clean, which surprised me.

"Gotta grease up, Scooter!" The Duke said matter-of-factly. "Don't wanna get cramps now, do we?" Cramps! It made perfect sense to me! At least, until he told me to bend over and grab onto the commode's seat with both of my hands.

I followed his order, but it sure seemed odd to me, especially when I heard him opening a jar of something behind me. His comment, "Cute butt!" didn't exactly inspire ease in me, either. But, I was too scared to say or do anything.

I had an inkling all was not kosher when he spread my ass cheeks and applied a greasy substance to my anus, then inserted a lubed finger and rotated it a bit. Then he added a second finger. It felt strange, to be sure, but what did I know about the weight lifting game? Ha ha! Innocent schmuck.

At the same time, it also had a profound sexual effect on me. I didn't know about prostate glands at the time, but I found myself starting to get an erection, in spite of myself. This made me feel ashamed and it embarrassed me no end, but when I glanced under my left arm and saw that The Duke was also erect, it seemed as if it was somehow natural and OK. A thing between us weight lifters that was the usual order of things.

As he sawed his two fingers in and out of my rectum, he asked me, "Feel good?" I mumbled a "Yeah" as I felt his fingers dig in a bit way too deep. However, it was true. It did feel good. Like the relieved feeling you get when crapping. A later friend of mine used to say: "The most overrated thing in the world is fucking and the most underrated thing is shitting." He had a point there.

Duke said, "I can't hear you, Scooter! Now say it, I love your big fingers in my ass! Say it! Now!"

I said it, "I... I love your big fingers in my ass, Duke." He laughed. Not a derisive laugh, but one of those laughs that say "Oh, yeah!"

"I'll bet it does, Scooter!" he said and laughed again. "Just wait, baby, until my big dick is in your poop shoot. It'll feel so good you'll scream for joy!" He paused then added, "Now, rotate your cute little ass on my fingers." I complied, moving my ass in little circles as his fat fingers probed in and out. As I rotated, he said, "Good boy! You're doing just great. We're gonna get along just fine you and me."

Then he said, "Now, add going up and down on my fingers to the little circles." I tried, but it seemed impossible, like crossing your eyes and rolling them at the same time. However, after a few mistakes I succeeded. I would complete half the circle on the trip toward him and the other half on the way back. I didn't know why, but it was starting to feel very nice. My erection was reacting, too. It was harder than ever before.

"Good boy, Scooter!" The Duke said. "You learn fast. I like that in a guy." A compliment, for crissakes, for doing good circles and back and forths while letting him ass fuck me with his fingers. What next? A fucking gold star?

Now, it must be pointed out that The Duke hadn't made any direct threats. So far, everything was implied by mere innuendo. I don't know what would have happened if I told him to stop it, dude, I'm going home. I just had the overall impression that I would have somehow regretted choosing that option. And, if truth be known, I was aroused, not to mention very curious.

He continued holding both fingers very still while I circled and rotated on them. Then he bent over me and whispered loudly in my ear, "You know you're The Duke's boy now, don't you?" In fear, I mumbled, "Yes!" which was true and I knew it. He added, "Good. We understand each other. And, you'll see, Scooter, it's gonna be great fun."

Why he kept calling me Scooter, I never found out. I do know that every time he said the name, it sent a shiver through me. I also wondered if he called Robbie by the same name. I figured he had. I could picture Robbie, small and spindly, standing just like I was now, working on The Duke's fingers with his girlish ass. Yeah, I thought, Robbie went down this same path. Strange the way the mind works in times of stress.

Duke then told me to turn around and, as he dried his hands on a towel, he handed me the jar of what I now saw was, as I had guessed from the smell, Vaseline.

"Grease me up, Scooter!"The Duke said. Ha ha ha! I actually stood there like an idiot waiting for him to turn around so I could lube his asshole as he had mine. Moronville, next stop!.

"My cock, you dummy," he growled, "grease my cock!" I reached out, but before I could put any lube on his cock, he said, "Hold on, Scooter, I've gotta piss." He grabbed my arm and led me quickly into the bathroom. Uh oh! I had an idea of what was coming. I didn't think he just wanted me to hold it for him. Oh, no. Funny maybe, but I remembered the French playing cards. Three of the women had been pictured with men's dicks up their asses. I hadn't paid it much attention at the time, but it sure stood out in my mind now.

"Get into the stall and on your knees, Scooter. Quickly!" Now I knew what was going to happen for certain, but what could I do? I knew he was going to piss in my mouth, but I didn't say a word. I didn't karate chop him, either and say, over his prostrate body, "See, Duke? That's what happens when you try to fuck with The Scooter Man!"

Oh, no! I simply got into the stall and dropped to my knees, quietly and obediently awaiting his further instructions. The idea of it happening, his pissing in my mouth, made me queasy and very lightheaded, but these feelings soon gave way to the strong overriding fear I had in me. Oh, well, how bad could it be?

As I knelt before him, he squeezed the base of his cock hard to control the piss flow and said, "Look at me!" I looked up at him. "As I piss I want you to swallow rapidly so you don't get any on the floor. You understand me, Scooter?" I nodded meekly. "Good! Now, open your mouth and put it on my prick! Hurry now!" I complied, with my eyes closed shut, feeling very humiliated.

In a moment I felt his warm, bitter-tasting piss enter my mouth and hit the back of my throat. It came out in a flood and my mouth quickly filled up. I swallowed, gulping audibly. More piss followed and more and more. I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. It seemed as if he'd piss forever. Beer will do that, I guess. I had tears in my eyes, which were still tightly shut, not from crying, but from the taste of his hot, acrid-like piss.

He stopped pissing and I thought he was done. He wasn't. He was once again squeezing the piss off at his cock's base. He soon let it burst again by releasing his hold. It burst into my mouth forcefully. I swallowed. Again he stopped and again he burst forth. It felt as if I was sucking his cock and he was cumming the world's biggest cum load. A bitter load, at that. Finally, he was done pissing. I swallowed what remained in my mouth and could taste it fully. It was piss, no doubt about that.

He pulled his cock out of my mouth and told me to kiss the pee hole and thank his cock for pissing in my mouth. Totally humiliated and degraded, I felt I had to comply.

With my eyes still closed, I sought out his cock and brought it to my lips. He laughed at my blind man's groping. Then he tilted my head up and said, "Open your fucking eyes, Scooter! Otherwise you're insulting me!" I opened my eyes and looked at him, feeling like a four year old who was being reamed out by daddy for being recalcitrant.

"Sorry, Duke." was all I could think of to say. He grinned at me. "That's OK, Scooter," he said gently. "You'll learn. Now, kiss the peehole and say what I told you to say." I kissed his peehole and said, "Th... th... thank you for pissing in my mouth."

He then told me to add, with more peehole kisses, "My mouth is yours to piss into any time you want." And, "I love the taste of your piss in my mouth." Would the day come when actually I did? I didn't think so, but I said the words anyway.

The only upside to all this was it seemed to please The Duke immensely, which made my chances of living another day seem more likely. And weirdly, the degradation must have appealed to me somewhat for I realized I had a stiff-on that was truly harder than usual; in spite of taking another guy's piss.

We then went back to me greasing him up, the taste of his piss fresh in my mouth.

Now, it must be said that at this time in my life, I had no interest in other men's dicks, in men in general, and men sure as shit didn't turn me on. In fact, today, men, per se, don't turn me on. Not even mildly. Give me tits and pussy, if you get my drift.

I didn't have, as one could say, a gay bone in my puny little body. But, for some unknown reason, as I applied the "grease" to his cock, I felt a stirring in my own crotch. As I touched, and saw, his member start to erect itself, my own cock twitched. And his cock was truly unreal. I marvelled at it's size. Over eight inches long, very thick, with a long head that was easily over two inches long, from its peehole tip to its highly pronounced ridged flange. The elongated cockhead took up fully one-quarter of his overall length.

His erection, when at full bore, stood more that just straight up; it was seemingly bound to his stomach, and higher than his belly button. It was super-hard with large, rope-like veins along both sides which magnified its thickness. It looked, in a word, menacing.

The cockhead was a lighter skin tone than the shaft and purplish-pink in color. And, if you pushed his cock downward and let it go, it would spring back to his belly as if magnetized. An amazing sight! It really fascinated me. To this day I have never seen a cock quite like it. Truly one of a kind and that ain't no lie.

My greasing done to his liking, The Duke led me over to the weight lifting setup and told me to try and lift the weight on top of the weight rack.

Shit, it weighed over two hundred pounds; so I could hardly budge it. This seemed to satisfy him and he told me to just hold onto the weight's crossbar with both hands. This put me in a bent over position, my ass upended and exposed to the air and to The Duke's gaze.

He then told me, very forcefully, "No matter what happens, Scooter, don't let go of the weight! OK?"

I said "OK," feeling very exposed, totally helpless, scared, and excited at the same time. I knew what was going to happen now and I had resigned myself to just let it happen. The thought of trying to run, fight, argue, reason with him, or anything else, never even entered my head at this time. If it did, I don't remember it now.

Duke then got behind me and I felt the head of his cock touch and probe my anus, pushing inward. He had one hand spreading my cheeks and the other helping his cock work its way into my ass hole. I could feel the pressure being applied by his cockhead as it sought entrance into me. For some strange reason I no longer felt scared. As long as he didn't kill me, who cares? was my reasoning. As long as I didn't end up in the lake, like poor Robbie, who cares? If he was going to fuck me, let him fuck me. After all, how bad could it be? It hadn't killed Robbie. Or had it?

He entered me a bit, perhaps an inch, and I felt some pain. Not excruciating pain, but pain is pain. I let out an involuntary "Ow." He then told me if I relaxed and just opened up my asshole it wouldn't hurt so much. I tried that, using muscle control, and he plunged in a few inches more. This time it didn't hurt as much, but it sure had a weird effect on me. Bright shooting stars burst in my head, huge goose bumps covered my entire body, and a cold draft ran across my ass cheeks. Amazing how well I remember that cold draft of air! Some things you never forget, I guess.

Duke moved into me a few more inches and told me to look in the wall's mirror. He had rolled the full-length store mirror into a position behind me that allowed me to actually see his cock going in and out of my young ass.

"See, Scooter? You're getting fucked just like a girl!" I had never seen my ass before and seeing it now both amazed and confused me. In contrast to The Duke's muscular legs and hard masculine cock, my ass looked very soft and... girlish! There was no other word for it. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought I was looking at a man fucking a young teenage girl doggy style. I was mesmerized and staring. Duke caught it.

"Yeah, Scooter, you've got one sweet girlie ass on you. Even cuter than Robbie's." Then, as if remembering, he said, "Wasn't that long ago Robbie was looking in this very mirror and also seeing my big prick in his cute little ass-pussy. He loved it, too." I still stared, shocked by the visual before me.

The Duke then said, "Now, sweet cheeks, like Robbie did, tell me you love my big cock in your ass-pussy." He then rammed it in all the way and I lost my breath, grabbed firmly onto the cross bar and gasped for air. He laughed. "Say it!"

I said it, in fear and pain, still gasping. "I... I... I love your big cock in my ass-pussy, Duke!" And, in truth, I did. It felt fantastic! Strange and wonderful at the same time. It was pain mixed with pleasure.

I actually found myself meeting his forward thrusts with my own backward movements. My whole being was now a combination of bursting stars, giant goose bumps, and strange, wonderful feelings. If, before this, anyone had told me I would love being ass fucked, I would have thought they were crazy. Now, as The Duke fucked me, I could smell his musk, his sweat, and the Vaseline. And all of it turned me on.

And his movements in me no longer hurt, in fact they felt great, and as I watched him fucking me in the mirror, my only fear was that he'd find out I had a hardon. I don't know why I cared about that, but I did. Perhaps I didn't want him to know I was turned on. As if it mattered.

At some point, as he deep-fucked my ass, the unbelievable happened. My cock starting spurting! Shooting cum as if it had a mind of its own. It felt different from my normal orgasms, more intense somehow, and it had taken me completely by surprise. Now, this wasn't just a mere precum burst caused by having my prostate massaged. This was a full fledged orgasm, complete with my balls tightening up.

I rushed a hand to my cock to hide this fact from him, but I was too slow. He had seen me spurting in the store mirror.

He leaned over me and I'll never forget his hot breath on my ear as he said, "I made you shoot, Scooter! That's great! Means you love it and we're gonna get along just fine." He licked my ear and neck and added, "From now on, every day, every fucking day, Scooter, you're going to do me. And later on today, I'm going to show you how I like my cock sucked. Ever suck a guy's cock, Scooter?" I answered, truthfully, "No, Duke, never have." He laughed.

He said he didn't think I had and this fact seemed to delight him. "Well, Scoot," he whispered, his hot breath bathing my ear lobe, "You're not only going to suck the cock that's now up your ass-pussy, but I'm going to show you exactly how I like it sucked. OK?" I mumbled an "OK." I was resigned to my fate. After all, how bad could it be?

In truth, the idea didn't totally turn me off. I had tried, unsuccessfully, to suck my own cock. Many times. The closest I came to doing it was when, lying on the bed with my ass running up the wall and my body doubled over, I managed to get my cock a few inches from my mouth. It was frustrating not being double-jointed enough to get it any closer to my lips, but I managed to jerk off in that very uncomfortable position and squirt my load directly down into my mouth. I liked the cum hitting my outstretched tongue and dripping back to my throat. Man, I sure would have given an arm if I could have sucked myself off completely.

The Duke, dug his fingers into my hips and proceeded to fuck me like a rag doll! Fast, furious, eight inch full-depth strokes. It had me breathless, gasping, lightheaded, and feeling as if I would pass out. I could hear his groin making slapping sounds as he pounded against my buttocks. I could hear myself moaning loudly as he went in an out of me. He had said that I would end up screaming for joy and I didn't make him out a liar. I started to yell.

"Oh, man, oh man! Ooooh, man! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh, God, oh, man!" I was in fucking heaven! The pleasure I felt was indescribable. I yelled and I yelled.

Duke was also yelling something, but I couldn't hear him. I was yelling too loudly and my ears were all blocked up. I stole a glance in the wall mirror and the lewd sight amazed me. His cock looked like a piston going in and out of my asshole, in and out. And, it felt fantastic! He'd pull out to where he had only the tip of his cock in my ass and then plunge to his full length. He'd pull back and do it again. In and out, in and out. The feeling was unbelievably wonderful. I felt absolutely giddy from it all. I glanced in the wall mirror and saw that I looked drugged and glassy-eyed.

My goose bumps felt as if they were the size of golf balls! The stars in my head were bursting all over the place. I was getting the fucking Fourth of July from an ass screwing. I could see, in the mirror, that he was sweating as he worked my asshole. His muscular legs had a glistening effect, a sheen, spread all over them as he pounded my ass silly.

Then his voice finally came to me: "Tell me you love me fucking you, Scooter! Say it!" I screamed, really meaning it, "I love you fucking me! Yes, Duke, I love you fucking me!" He let out a huge laugh as he squeezed my waist harder, pulled me toward him, and continued his assault. He said, "Your ass, Scooter, is nice and tight. It's really pleasing me." I pushed back toward him and he liked me doing so.