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Message-ID: <35364asstr$1014394205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: strangesub@yahoo.com (G)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 21 Feb 2002 15:34:42 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} My Sex Life #21(True,mm,oral,anal,ws,shaving,dom,forced,older man,teenager)
Date: Fri, 22 Feb 2002 11:10:05 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Sex.
                  The great obsession.
                  These are the stories of my lives.  
                  Its permutations of cocks and cunts, holes and moans
and slick fluids.
                  The Internet affords me an opportunity to cater to a
virtual exhibitionism.  I am able to fuck and get fucked in public.
    There is no kinky activity I have to hide away for fear that my
"normal" friends would consider me a deviant reprobate.  All of us
voyeurs can watch as I relive My Sex Life and expose all of the
perverse things that I have done and that have been done to me -
things that I have never told anybody.
                  All of the stories written here are true.  I have
been eroticized all sorts of details in order create hot sex - but the
the actual "scenarios" happened.  In truth, sometimes the reality was
far less interesting, exciting or pleasant.  But my purpose is to make
you hard and wet.   For comments, whatever - Write me at
Strangesub@yahoo.com

    My Sex Life #21
           Greg Goes From Fuck Boy Toy To Degraded Slut

    The next day was Sunday.  I woke up in the exact same position
that I had fallen asleep in.  My hand was still around my cock and I
had a massive piss hard on.  I immediately started breathing heavily
as I squeezed my cock.  Jesus.  I wondered if I had stayed hard all
night.  It felt like it.  I had a slight hangover headache, but my
mouth tasted like used penis.  I inadvertently took my hand off of my
cock to wipe the dried cum off of my face.
    Christ!  My hand smelled like shit and now my face smelled like
shit.  Feeling bizarre and still horny in a nauseous sort of way,  I
stumbled out of bed and threw on my underwear, just in case Mrs.
Sanders was around.  I opened the doorway and looked out into the
hallway.
    "Greg," I heard Mr. Sanders voice from downstairs.  "Finally up,
are you.  Hold it right there for a second."
    Oh no, I thought as I heard him come up the stairs, I really had
to pee. I smelled like shit.  My  mouth was crusty with cum.
    "There you are," he said spying me in the doorway - he was still
in his bathrobe.
    He had a glass of something in his hand.
    "Underwear?  Don't worry about that, Eleanor is at church and
shouldn't be back for awhile."
    "Uhh, Mr. Sanders," I demurred, "I really have to pee." 
    "Wonderful, my gorgeous boy,  let's go into the bathroom."
    Oh no, now what.  I can't do this, I thought. Shit. I just woke
up.  I was hung over.  I really had to piss.  But I let him prod me to
the bathroom.
    "Uhh, look," I said hoarsely; my mouth tasted like leftover cum -
I could imagine it clogging my throat.
    "Be a good boy," he said as he pushed me toward the toilet.  "Sit
down."
    Ohh, not again, I thought.  "I can't, please, I just...."
    He cut me off.  "You need take a pisser.  It's Okay.  Sit down." 
    Once more I sat on the open toilet seat.
    "Here, drink this." he said, handing me the glass. "Hair of the
dog, you know..."
    I accepted the glass and drank it gratefully.  I don't know what
was in it, but it helped settle my stomach.
    Mr. Sanders reached down and pulled the front of my underwear over
my blood filled cock.
    "All right son, go ahead."  His hand pressed my pissfull hard on
against my belly.  Damn, I thought as I finished the glass.  What was
he going to do?  Drink my pee?  Make me piss on myself?  But I had to
piss bad and he had this eccentric authority over me.  Like this was
what we do in his house....  Fuck it.  I tried to relax my bladder and
let the piss rise through my stiff member.  I relaxed, concentrating,
putting the glass on the bathroom sink, closing my eyes and opening my
mouth.  Just as I felt the piss ready to gush out, Mr. Sanders put a
hand to the back of my head again and again tilted my face and body
over, downwards towards my cock.
    "Open up," he said as my piss shot out and he directed my cock
toward my face.
    I closed my eyes and mouth in disbelief as my hot urine splashed
off my nose.
    "Open your mouth boy!" he commanded as he bent me farther over,
pulling me towards my fountaining cock.
    I obeyed - in weakness; in astonishment; in forbidden eroticism;
just wanting to find out what the fuck it tasted like; or just plain
cowardice.  Whatever it was, I obeyed and peed into my face, into my
own mouth.  The sour, stale liquor piss splashed off of my teeth and
tongue, spraying into my throat, soaking my thin beard and splashing
off of my face, onto my hairy chest and belly and dripping on the
floor and toilet between my legs.  I let it fly.  The whole sensation 
was one of surrender to an orgasm that covered my body.    My prick
spewed forth its warm liquid, covering me in an obscene, pornographic
surge.
    "Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh," I helplessly moaned as the hot fluid sprayed
into my face and hair.
     I could have cut off my flow, but I didn't.  Again I was caught
by my own desire and I became captive to this humiliating domination. 
I kept on peeing and peeing, Mr. Sanders directing my spouting cock up
against my belly, soaking my entire torso with urine.
    By the time I was reduced to a dribble of piss, I was panting with
the degrading sexuality of it all and my prick was stiffening with a
new intoxicated perversity.
    "Ohhh," said Mr. Sanders, releasing my prick and standing up. 
"That was nice, wasn't it?  You are such an obedient son.  Now its
daddy's turn."
    He shucked off his bathrobe and stood naked before me, his beefy
cock only slightly hard, thick between his legs.  I stared at it,
enthralled as he held it in his hand, drew back the foreskin to expose
his cockhead and pointed it towards my face.
    "Open up." he said smiling.  "I've had to save this all morning."
    My mouth hung dumbly open as stepped up and put the tip of his
cock between my lips.  Then he let fly a stream of hot piss directly
into my waiting oral cavity.  I jerked backwards in disbelief, but in
the strange kinkiness of actually sitting there and getting pissed on
- I let him do it.  I didn't close my lips.
    His scalding, bitter urine filled my mouth and gushed out the
sides, splashing onto my chest and arms. I was insane.
    "Drink up son," he directed.
    I closed my mouth, his yellow waste splashing over my lips,
saturating my face and hair as I swallowed.  Fuck, I thought, as I
felt the harsh fluid in my digestive system, I've lost my fucking
mind.
    Everything was on fire as he moved his stream down my body, peeing
on my hard on, soaking my underwear.  I was trembling with an
incredible debased raunchiness.  I looked up at him in wonder,
astonished that he could do this to me.  I was his willing toilet and
somewhere in my mind, that idea was totally disgusting.  But right
then, I was so turned on by it all.
    "Now, you're all pissed son," he said, almost laughing, his
powerful flow reduced to a trickle.  "Clean up this last little drop."
    He put his wet cockhead to my mouth and I licked clean the piss
slit, starting to play with his foreskin with my lips.  I was on a
trip, out of my body.  This wasn't me.  But I was so turned on that I
was panting in lust.  I mouthed his soft cock, taking more of it in
between my lips. God, I was hot.
    "We'll have to get rid of some of that hair," he said, pulling his
cock from my mouth and turning around to rummage in the medicine
cabinet. "Don't move now."
    He pulled out some barber's scissors and said, "Let's get rid of
that beard."
    "Fuck."  I said in astonishment.  
    He pulled on my beard and snipped off a piece.
    He looked me in the eyes as he did this.  My universe started
shrinking and he began to appear like a father figure to me.  I was
entrapped in a forbidden intertwining of my pulsing cock;  my
submissive degradation; and a sick desire to please....  daddy?
    It was an erotic spell of surrender.  Even my prize symbol of
hippiedom was fair game in this bizarre house.  It was turning me on
even more to have him cut off my beard, his soft, thick cock dangling
in front of my face.  He was in total sexual control and I simply went
with the flow. Amazing. It was a good thing that he was only nuts and
not insane.   Being older and wiser now, I would have been terrified
and stopped him (I think) today.  I mean there was some crazoid old
lecher who was reveling in my young naked bod, waving scissors around
at my throat.  And then at my balls.  I might have even stopped him
then, but he paused, looked at me thoughtfully, and said,  "Son, this
could take a little bit, and I want you to relax, so I'm going to get
you a treat."
    With that he left and went into his bedroom.  I thought about
getting up and halting this insanity, but I was soaked with our piss,
I was still drowning in submission.  And, in some strange fashion, I
figured it couldn't get any worse.
    He came back with a lighter and a joint.  A joint!  I laughed.  He
gave them to me saying, "I want you to be happy now while I make you
even more lovely than you already are.  You told me how much you enjoy
this....
    Damn.  I stared at him.  I was sitting there soaked with our piss;
 he was naked; he wanted to cut off my fucking hair....
    My internal eternal hippie, who was a slave to all things sensual,
asserted itself.
    I lit up the joint and he picked up the scissors. 
    Yep, he cut my whole beard off and then shaved me with an electric
razor.  All the time I was getting high and he was murmuring about
what a sweet boy I was and how I was going to make love to him.  And
the fact was, that he wasn't just playing as he told me over and over
again how great looking I was.  He really meant it.  His own cock grew
as he shaved my face clean and started working on my chest hair.
    And getting shaved turned me on.  It was an incredible sensual
high. Someone else's hands manipulating my skin, controlling me in
ways that no one had ever done before.  I got hotter and hotter.
    After shaving my belly, he removed my piss soaked underwear and
started on my pubic hair.  I got harder and higher as I submitted to
him.  The feeling was out of this world.
    I had always been particularly horny in the mornings, usually
masturbating after I took my morning piss.  Now, he was prolonging my
sexual high, getting me high, extending it into some other weird place
where I was luxuriating in his attentions with a sensual overload.  He
did all of my pubic hair, squeezing my throbbing erection as he moved
it this way and that, stretching my balls to shave the hairs off of my
nut sacks.  All it would have taken was some good hard squeezes with
his hand and I would have erupted, flinging my spunk all over
everything.
    "Now, get up and turn around," he said.
    I stood up and turned my ass to him.
    "Bend over, my boy," said Mr. Sanders.
    I bent over, opening up my asshole to him for the first time, my
forehead resting on the toilet seat.
    He first washed the crack of my ass, rubbing the rough washcloth
across my sensitive anus;  then he washed my dirty cock and balls,
reaching underneath me and pulling my hard on painfully backwards.  I
started quivering as he shaved my ass.
     "OooHhhhh," I moaned at this unbelievable stimulation, my cock
bobbing underneath me, leaking its pre cum fluid.
    "My boy, my boy," he exulted, rubbing my naked asshole, while I
moaned and shook "you look fantastic.  Sit down again."
   His cock was now hard.  And it was fucking immense.  It was
probably 6 inches around and 9 inches long.  The man was well endowed.
 It looked awesome.  I watched his hard prick as he went back to the
medicine cabinet and pulled out a small bottle.  He splashed some
liquid in his hands and applied it to my naked pubic area.
    "AHH, Jesus!" I cried, my eyes snapping wide open.      I gasped
as he laughed.  He had applied an astringent aftershave.   "All
right," he said,  "you look good for now.  Let's buff you up."
    "What?" I queried.
    I was very stoned now, as he pulled me to my feet. I was Stoned
and living in an unreal fantasy.
    "Like a good son," he quipped, "you've got to look good."
    He pulled me into the hallway and then pushed me in front of him,
slapping me on my ass.
    "Downstairs." he commanded.
    He was one fucked up pervert.  What the hell.  I walked
downstairs, rubbing my smooth, naked genitals, the aftershave still
stinging, surrounding my tingling manhood with fire.
    "I can't believe how lucky I was to pick you up," he continued to
gush as we walked downstairs.  "You are so beautiful."
    He directed me to the kitchen where he opened a cabinet and took
out a bottle of cooking oil.
    "Let's go into the garage."  he said.
    I had lost my mind by now.  This guy was doing things and taking
chances that I would never dream of.    I figured it was possible for
his wife to pop in at any moment, he had been shaving me for 15
minutes to a half hour.  We were both stark naked, sporting hard
cocks.  Did church last that long?  Was any of this really happening? 
But I was really, really stoned.  And I felt so wicked and degraded. 
He was pushing all of my right buttons....
    I opened the door to his garage.
    "Hey man, your garage door is open," I noted stupidly .
    It was a warm, sunny spring day and I could hear the sounds of
cars and people outside.
    He smacked my ass again, propelling me down the steps to the cold
garage floor.
    "Don't worry about it, son.  It's my damn house," he said with a
touch of asperity.
    But he was still smiling when he joined me.
    "See, nobody's out there baby," he nodded toward the open garage
door.   He was right, and hell, it was his house and he could make the
damn rules.  A small corner of my mind was worried a little that he
was being as outlandish as I might have been in my own house.  This
old guy was standing in practically broad daylight, naked, with a kid
that he picked up hitchhiking.  Was he really nuts?  And he was really
into the son and boy thing.
    "Someday, I might just take you outside into the yard and let the
neighbors play with your hot, young body.  Would you like that?" Mr.
Sanders purred.  "You could be my lawn ornament.  A young hole for the
people to piss and cum into...  Would you like that?
    I was stoned.  I was high.  I was turned on.  I was so damned
overwhelmed at the incredible sensual rush of my nude and hairless
body that I didn't give a fuck.  He was talking my fantasy language
now...
    Then, as he continued describing how he'd like to show me off
around the neighborhood, he started spreading the cooing oil over my
freshly shaved body, kneading my naked chest and nipples, rising up to
caress my face, letting the oil drip down over my cock onto the garage
floor.  He kissed me again as he liberally applied oil to my belly and
then my cock and balls, slicking them up, squeezing and letting them
slide through his fingers.  The sensations were incredible and I no
longer cared who was watching or if he were all there.  I started
moaning at his attentions.  He kissed me again as he joined our
slippery cocks together with his hand, rubbing against me.  I caressed
his back in genuine passion, pulling him to me and he shoved his 9
inch monster under my balls and between my legs.  I squeezed my
thighs, letting him fuck my slick flesh; his mouth devouring mine.  He
pulled back as I started to totally lose any inhibitions at the total
insane erotica of all this.  Then, he slid his hand between my legs,
opening my asscheeks and sliding up my crack to my asshole.
    "OHhhhhhh," I moaned, squatting and allowing him access while he
massaged my tight asshole with his oily finger.
    Then, without any preliminary, he shoved his middle finger up my
ass, the slick fluid letting it slide up through my anal ring.
     "UHhhhhh, shit," I jumped and fell against him, hanging onto his
naked flesh.
    "Oh my baby, you've got such a pretty ass too,' he remarked,
jabbing his finger farther into me, penetrating my asshole firmly for
the first time since my own fingers were up there.
    "Ohh, noooo, please,"  I groaned at this unexpected assault, but I
was so hot.
    He stilled his hand, pouring more oil onto my cock and balls,
letting it flow down onto his arm and pool into the hand worming its
way into my ass.  It also flowed down the inside of my thighs onto the
growing pool of oil soaking my feet on the floor.  He withdrew his
finger from my ass and coated my whole asscrack with oil, pushing
again at my tender anus, opening me and reinserting his finger, making
me groan again.  He wiggled his finger back and forth in my shithole.
    "Please," I begged, my breath caught in my throat, "I can't....."
    I was lying and my body betrayed me and I opened my legs and sunk
slightly lower onto to his probing finger, holding onto him,
shuddering in disbelief at my aroused debauchery.  I looked into his
eyes, trying to beseech him not to go further, not understanding what
was happening.  He was using and controlling me in ways that were
beyond my comprehension.  Sensual craving filled my slippery naked
form.  His invading finger in my ass felt like it was pushing up
through my belly, electrifying my yearning prick....  I was lost.....
    "Ohhhhh," I whimpered, and started moving my ass, riding his
finger up and down, reveling in the stoned sensuality.
    'Ohh, yes, baby," he told me happily.  "You like that don't you? 
You like daddy's finger up your pretty, pretty ass.....  Don'
you?...."
    "Yesss," I whispered softly, ashamed at my acquiescence, afraid
that he was going to fuck me, but unable to resist.
    "Mmmmm, mmm" he shoved his finger up my shitter as far as it would
go and then he pinched the flesh between my asshole and cock and
pulled, licking my face.
    "AAAHHH," I cried out at the sudden exotic pain.
    "You are so beautiful," said Mr. Sanders as he kissed me again,
his hard lips pressing into mine.
    He continued to fuck my ass with his fingers, making me dance and
moan like a puppet.
    "You've been a daddy's boy for a long time now, haven't you?"
asked Mr. Sanders while he continued kissing me; caressing my hot boy
meat; stretching my burning anus; and rubbing his large cock against
my slick naked body.
    "Y-y-yesss," I whispered in a tremolo.  "Yeessss, oohhhh."
    "How old were you when you sucked your first cock," inquired Mr.
Sanders, continuing to play my hot young flesh like a violin.
    "Uhh, ohh, uh, f-fourteen," I moaned, writhing under his dominant
mastery of my naked form.
    My asshole was begging to be fucked as he pushed his finger in
deeper and then pulled it out again, rimming my anus and pulling on my
practically virgin hole.
    "Tell me about it," He demanded, "Who did you suck? Where? "
    He grabbed my clean shaven balls and cock, squeezing his way up my
shaft, stretching my ballsack, crushing my nuts against my hard root.
    "UUuuuuuhnnnnn," I moaned, helpless to defend myself against this
ravagement.  I started babbling, telling him all about my brother Mark
and Jimmy and Tim and Peter - sucking cocks and being forced to give
blow jobs to all the boys....
    As he listened, he released his invasive hold on my testicles and
asshole and pushed me down to the cold, oily floor of the garage.  His
massive meat rubbed against my face and I opened my mouth to take it
in.
    "Like this?" he asked as he held my face with both hands and
shoved his thick, long oil coated cock deep into my slut mouth,
jamming it immediately into my throat and holding me there, gagging,
unable to breath.
    "GHhhhhghhhhh," I choked on his massive meat, jerking, trying to
pull back, but he held me, lodging the head of his cock in my air
passage until I felt like I was going to vomit and pass out at the
same time.
    Then he pulled out once again as I fell forward, gasping for
breath.  He took his huge tool in his hand and slapped my face with
it, reveling in his power over me.  Pulling me to my feet, he grabbed
my face with his hand and, squeezing my cheeks, pulled my jaw open. He
looked at me sternly and said,  "Son, you need to please your daddy.
Clean up your mess now."
    He put his shitty finger in my open mouth, releasing my jaw,
closing my lips around it.  I shook. That was disgusting.  I
couldn't......   But I did.
    I licked my oily shitstain off of his middle finger, understanding
now that we were both a little nuts.  I was too far gone to really
taste my own shit as I tried to lap up all of the vegetable oil.  I
licked his finger clean and started lapping at his whole hand while he
played with my mouth and my teeth and my face.  I was drowning in
erotic submission and my cock felt huge and bloated.  I would do
anything to please this man. I reached down and found his manhood,  my
hand sliding over it's oily surface, cherishing its hardness while I
licked his hand.  I could feel him throb as I caressed my daddy's
cock, wanting to please him, wanting him to fuck me, wanting to feel
his huge cock in my throat again.
    "No," he said, grabbing my slippery arm on his cock.  "Time to go
back inside now."
    He moved his hand from my mouth and turned from my grasp.  He
walked up the steps back into the kitchen.  "Don't forget to wipe your
feet."
    I was stupefied.  I was hot.  I followed him inside, wiping my
oily feet on the doormat.
    "Here, put this on," he said, grabbing a very small apron off a
door hook.
    It was a little flowery, white frilly thing, like a French maid's
apron, only good for covering the waist and a little bit of a person's
belly.  He tied it around my middle, but my throbbing hard on made it
look ridiculous, the front panel pushed out, lying on top of my meat.
    "Oh, baby," he said, "You look great.  Now go clean up the mess
you made in the bathroom."
    He reached out and slid his hands down my naked chest, grabbing an
oil slicked nipple between each thumb and forefinger and twisting.
    "Unngghh," I groaned at this injury, wanting to fall against him,
wanting to feel him, wanting to do whatever he wanted.
    "Go ahead, boy" he released my abused nipples, "clean up the
mess."
    I turned around and he again smacked me on my oil slicked ass.  I
headed upstairs.  He followed me and when I got to the bathroom, I
turned around and looked at him questioningly.  I didn't know what he
wanted me to do.
    "I'm going to get dressed." he said.  "Go ahead."
    "Uhh, what....?" I inquired.
    I really didn't understand in the otherworldly condition I was in.
    "Son," he said in exasperation.  "Get down on the floor."
    I complied, getting on my hands and knees.
    "Now start licking everything clean.  Start with the toilet." 
    He walked down the hall into his bedroom.
    I teetered there in madness for an eternity.  I could obey him or
not.  I could submit or not.  I could perform this disgusting, disease
ridden, depraved act when there was no one there to make me or I could
start using toilet paper and towels to mop up our drying piss that
covered everything.  Or I could just run.
   I paused.  My hairless, oiled, stoned, naked body was still
throbbing with submission.  My chest was tight and I felt a lump in my
throat like I wanted to cry.
    I couldn't do this debased thing....
    My cock was so hard that it ached with desire.
    I started licking the toilet.
    I licked the toilet seat clean and then rinsed my mouth out with
water.  I splashed water on the toilet bowel and I licked that down. 
My cock stayed hard and I started breathing harder.  I was getting
turned on by the cold porcelain.   Again I went to the sink.  By the
time I had splashed water on the floor and was licking up puddles of
pee mixed with water, Mr. Sanders had come out of the bedroom.  He was
again dressed as the consummate businessman. He had on immaculate,
expensive casual clothes, replete with a sports coat.
    "Very good son," he complimented me.  "I want you to move that
pretty ass of yours over here."
    I complied and backed my ass toward the door.  I felt like an
asshole.  I was butt naked, licking up Mr. Sanders  bathroom floor
while he was dressed and apparently finished with me.  But I was still
so hard and I was still so hot and I wanted to please him. He
affectionately caressed my ass, sliding his hand around to my asshole
again.
   "Stand up," he commanded, pulling on my asscheeks.
    I got on my feet and started to straighten up, but he stopped me
saying, "No, just your beautiful asshole. Keep your pretty head down
there."
   I hung over, touching the floor, while he fondled the soft globes
of my ass, rubbing the remaining slick oil over my asshole, tapping
it, probing it, squeezing my asscheeks, until he again started
insinuating his finger into the oily anal ring.  I was helplessly
befuddled as he twisted his finger inside me again, penetrating my
anus.  I softly moaned as he pressed down inside my ass, massaging my
prostate.  Why was he doing this?  If was getting ready to fuck me,
why was he dressed?  He pulled his finger from my ass one more time
and told me to get down on all fours.
    "Turn around and clean me off," he demanded.
    This time, I saw his shitty finger and I balked.
    "I can't," I said, pleading, imploring him, "I'll, I'll get sick."
       I looked up at him, beseeching him, still on my hands and
knees, shaking at the thought of licking my own shit.
    "Oh, all right son, I let you beg off this time," he said, walking
into the bathroom and turning on the water in the sink.
    "What are you waiting for?" he asked as he started washing his
hands. "Finish your chores."
   I started frantically licking at the floor, pathetically grateful
that he hadn't made me eat shit.  I was so mind fucked now that I
wanted to please him in any way that I could. I was horny to be his
good boy.
    "Now, dry my hands, son," he requested holding his hands down
toward my face.
   I got up on my knees, my heart again racing at my utter degradation
and I licked his proffered fingers, sucking on them, trying to remove
all the traces of water and oil and shit. I laved his hand
enthusiastically with my tongue in slavish gratitude at his being so
kind to me.
   "Ooooo," he said, taking my face between his hands and squeezing,
"you're such a good boy.  As soon as you're done, we can go.  You need
to get back to school."
    He walked out of the bathroom and down the hall to my room and
then downstairs.
    I continued cleaning the floor with my tongue, anxious to please,
until I had got it all clean.
    Then, hoping that he wouldn't suddenly come upstairs, I took a
crap.   I had to take a dump and I wanted to be sure that my asshole
was at least reasonably clean if Mr. Sanders should take it into his
obsessed head to have me eat shit again.  I was really trapped into
the servile mind set of fucking pleasing him.
    While I was cleaning out my asshole, trying to remove all traces
of any fecal matter, I heard Mrs. Sanders come in from church.  Oh.
Real shit.  I quickly closed the bathroom door.  I was in a panic. 
Stoned, shaved naked, with her frilly little apron around my still
stiff cock.  Shit. Shit.  What to do?  I rinsed my mouth out and
thought about it.  Then I started calming down.  Damn.  All I had to
do was to go to the guest room, close the door and get dressed.  Boy,
I was really stoned.
    Then there was a knock on the bathroom door.
    "Um.  Hello?"  I queried.
    "Son, open up this door," said Mr. Sanders.
    I opened the door.  
    "I heard your wife come home," I whispered, "I didn't...."
    "You do what I tell you to do or you're going to get a spanking,"
he replied, cutting me off.  "When you are done, come on down and get
in the car."
    "Uhh...."  I stammered, bewildered, still wanting to please him.
"Your, your wife.....  my clothes..."
    Mrs. Sanders will be in the basement for awhile," he retorted, 
"Your clothes are in the car.  Give me that apron and finish."
    My heart was beating a mile a minute as I unfastened the frilly
apron, now wet with my flow of pre cum, from around my waist.  I
handed it to him and stood there naked, dumbstruck.  I could feel a
heated ache in my balls.  My stiff cock jerked at this new weirdness.
    He smiled at me, Don't be long, Gregg."
    He turned and walked back down the stairs, pausing to throw the
apron down the dirty clothes chute.
    I looked around the bathroom.  Damn.  I didn't know what to do.  I
half heartedly started licking the sink with my tongue, but although I
was still ingratiatingly dominated, I was also scared.  My clothes
were in the car?  What was the story with Mrs. Sanders?  This was
really nuts.  I couldn't think.  I was incredibly hard.  I was totally
manipulated by Mr. Sanders demands.  And, I was still really, really
stoned.
     I had to look in the guest room.  I couldn't concentrate on any
more bizarre cleaning now.  I crept down the hallway and looked into
the room where I had slept.  My clothes and backpack were gone.
   I stood there in the hallway and absently fondled my ever hard
penis.  I traced a path wonderingly over my hairless pubes up to my
chest, and then my face.  I put my hands between my legs and felt my
naked asshole.  I was fascinated and bemused by my smooth shearing. 
My own skin felt electric to my touch.  I stood there running my hands
over my body, enjoying the carnal sensations.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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