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From: "Dream Spinner" <authorsix@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} ST: "Aaron and Brue: Play Hard" (celeb, M/t, spanking, mild S and M)
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Date: Sat, 04 Mar 2006 06:10:02 -0500
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Caution/Welcome.  Returning to Marathon after his Juke Box tour in Japan, 
Aaron begins working on his next album until an invitation to get away for a 
weekend shortly after his sixteenth birthday is gratefully accepted.  
Although incorporating many real facts, this story does not reflect nor 
imply a real event nor the real sexuality of this hot young performer nor 
his host for the weekend.  If you do not like reading gay fantasies about 
celebrities, intergenerational sex, spanking, or S and M, this is where you 
stop and hit the back or delete key and wait for the next story.  This is 
the fifty-second of standalone stories in a series of Aaron Carter and 
Friends fanfic gay fantasies and chronologically follows the story "Aaron 
and Friends: Sweet Sixteen."  This story is posted at gay adult story sites 
for the purpose of adult entertainment.  Permission is not given to copy 
electronically for the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites other 
than described without the permission of the author.  Comments can be sent 
to the author J.O. Dickingson at authorsix@hotmail.com

AARON AND BRUCE: PLAY HARD
	It was twenty below and a bone-chilling wind had come up but Aaron was 
sweating profusely as he plowed through the deep snow that had blown up 
along the tree line.  The five-foot nine, hundred and thirty-pound recently 
turned sixteen-year-old should have been able to stand on top of the 
wind-hardened drift, but he was packing an additional seventy-five pounds in 
addition to his thermal suit and had broken through.  His chest heaved and 
ached with the exertion and his breath froze as it left his mouth.  Every 
muscle in his body was screaming.  It had been almost three months since 
he'd ended his Juke Box tour, and after three months of sitting behind a 
synthesizer and a desk he was no longer in the top shape he'd been in 
leading up to and during the tour.  That was one advantage of touring-a guy 
had to be in good shape.  And a guy had to be in good shape to attract 
sexual partners, Aaron's second big passion after performing.
	Peering around the last tree and with the enemy nowhere in sight, he 
sprinted toward the flag at the top of the hill, unable to believe that he 
was actually yards away from victory.  His lungs ached as he sucked in the 
cold air and his legs cried out. That was when he was hit, in both legs, and 
he froze there in surprise, staring down at the blood-red splotches, one 
spreading about his right kneecap and the other slightly higher, mid thigh, 
on his other leg.  He looked up at the grinning face of the enemy as he rose 
from where he'd been lying half buried in the snow, his paint-ball rifle 
still pointing at him.
	"Drop your weapon or you're a dead man," the man behind the ski mask 
snarled sharply.
	He dropped his paint ball rifle and fell back, totally exhausted, glad it 
was over but disappointed he'd been shot down so close to victory.
	"Get up," the enemy soldier ordered as he picked up the other gun.
	"Can't.  I'm shot.  Both legs."
	"Flesh wounds.  You can walk.  Unless you'd rather I drag you back to base 
by your balls."
	He probably would.  The sixteen-year-old singer struggled to his feet.  
"That was some ga-."
	"No talking.  Just march!"
	Bruce believed in playing it to the hilt, in character right up to the end. 
  But then, what else would you expect from an actor, especially when he's 
acting out one of his favourite roles, a hard-nosed, rough and tough hero 
whether it be John McClane in "Die Hard" or Butch Coolidge in "Pulp 
Fiction?"  Besides, he was a perfectionist.  Probably came from his German 
background.  Aaron had discovered that the first time they'd met, at the 
Key's Fantasy Fest in October when Bruce and his girls, fifteen-year-old 
Rumer, twelve-year-old Scout Larue, and nine-year-old Tallulah Belle had 
come down to Florida.  Bruce had observed how celebrity-struck his girls 
were after seeing him performing in New York at the end of August during his 
Juke Box tour, and had invited him to spend an evening on his yacht with 
them.  That was when he found out about Bruce's secret, about his passion 
for role-playing games.  When he'd put on the sailor's uniform Bruce had 
sent him to wear, he had no idea his daughters would be out for the evening, 
nor what Bruce had planned for the two of them that night.  That was when he 
found out Bruce Willis's other secret.
	"Stop day dreaming and march dammit," Bruce snarled, interrupting his 
thoughts as he gave him a rough shove.
	They'd met several times since then, at the APBA Offshore championships in 
Alabama in November, later that month in New York, and early in December in 
Miami, all by Bruce's invite, or rather, by his demand.  And all for the 
same reason.
	"If you can't keep up the pace, I'll set it for you soldier," Bruce 
snapped.  Tying Aaron's hands behind his back and placing a noose about his 
neck, Bruce headed off on a run, and although three times Aaron's age, the 
teenager had to struggle to keep up with him.  To maintain the realism, they 
paused behind the last hill and he put a blindfold on his captive before 
approaching his home on his estate outside Hailey, Idaho.  Leading him down 
the stairs-he believed in realism but he didn't want his young guest to 
break a leg either-he bound him with his legs spread eagled and tied to 
rings in the floor and with his arms spread and tied to the ceiling beams in 
the basement.  His body tense with anticipation, Bruce felt a stirring of 
arousal between his legs as he quickly removed his flack jacket and thermal 
suit, replacing his ski boots with army boots.  He left on his camouflage 
shirt stained with sweat and his camouflage cargo pants.
	"Now, tell me what I want to know and things will go easy on you."
	"I don't know anything."
	"So, that is the way you want to play it, is it my pretty?" Bruce asked, 
running a rough hand over Aaron's still smooth, downy cheeks.  He had not 
yet begun to shave, and with his fine, blond hair, it would likely be a 
while yet before he had to.  Bruce had never been a pretty face, not even 
when he was that age.  Now, at forty-eight, the six-foot-one, two hundred 
and eleven-pound actor had a protruding gut, a day's stubble covering his 
developing jowls and a receding hairline at the temples.  He was nobody's 
heartthrob, including Demi Moore, the mother of his children, who had 
divorced him five years ago, for among other reasons, his secret pastime 
that Aaron had discovered.  Bruce tightened his ropes, pulling him up so he 
was barely touching the floor with his toes.  "How many men are with you?"
	"I don't know."
	Bruce slapped his face, hard, but not enough to bruise it.  It was too 
pretty a face to mar.  "Try again."
	"None.  I came by myself," Aaron replied, adlibbing and relying on the 
truth where he could to keep things simple.  There was no script in this 
play.
	"So, thought you'd capture me all on your own and reap all the glory 
yourself, did you?"
	"Yeah, something like that."
	"Liar!" Bruce barked as he slapped his teenage captive again.  His cheek 
smarted.  "Who sent you?"
	"He's never mentioned his name, and  . . .  I've always been blindfolded 
when I met with him."
	"They're smart.  But not so smart too.  Whoever they are, they should never 
have sent a boy to do a man's job."  Aaron felt a hand on his thigh and then 
move up to his crotch.  "You are a boy, aren't you?  You look more like a 
girlie in a man's clothing."  Aaron didn't respond.  "Have to admit, you got 
balls, coming after me," Bruce continued, caressing his basket through his 
thick thermal suit.  He suddenly felt Bruce slap his ass, hard.  It had to 
be really hard to feel it through the thick padding of the pants.  "Well, I 
have ways of getting the truth out of you."
	Aaron was well aware of that.  When he'd been summoned to New York, they'd 
gone to a leather bar.  He was underage, but Bruce had connections, and they 
went straight to the private rooms, to the dungeon.  Bruce was the royal 
torturer and he had been the gay young pretender plotting to take over the 
throne.  It had been very real.  He heard the zipper of his jacket being 
pulled down.  He'd been sweating with exertion outside, his thermal suit 
doubly insulated, an inside down layer to keep out the cold of the Idaho 
winter, and an outside layer to protect his body from the paint balls.  On 
top of that he was wearing a flack jacket for costuming.  He was sweating 
even more now, with the heat of the basement, and with fear what his captor 
had in mind next.  It was all a game, but sometimes Bruce got carried away 
with his role playing, like the time in Miami in his role as the border cop 
catching an illegal teenage immigrant/terrorist.  Fortunately his parents 
were too wrapped up in their squabble to notice him limping around the house 
and nursing his bruised ribs afterwards.  Bruce had made it up to him with 
the diamond earrings and pendant.
	With Aaron's arms and legs spread and his ankles and wrists bound, Bruce 
had to cut away his flak jacket and his insulated suit.  He could have 
untied him for a moment and removed them, but with his millions the cost of 
the clothing was hardly a consideration, and it was more realistic to cut 
it.  Aaron was soon down to his boxers, socks, winter hiking boots, and of 
course, blindfold.  Bruce ran a hand over his smooth chest and fiddled with 
his nipples before descending to his stomach.  The bulge was slight, but it 
was a bulge, a sign of the teenager's rich living.  Of course at 
forty-eight, Bruce no longer had six-pac abs either.  Aaron yelped with the 
sudden slap to his backside.  Being blindfolded, he never knew what was 
coming, a caress or a slap, nor where.
	"Now we can avoid a lot of pain if you just yell me what I want to know."
	"Like I said, I don't know anything."  That was the truth of course, but 
even if he did know, to give in so quickly would spoil the game.  He'd 
learned that quickly the night on Bruce's yacht.
	"You're going to be sorry you said that," Bruce sneered.  Cutting through 
the elastic waist band, he tore his boxers the rest of the way.  There was 
realism, and there was reality.  He was strong, but not that strong.  "Now, 
once again, who are you working for?" Bruce asked, this time slapping 
Aaron's naked backside, and not holding back.
	Aaron again yelped and jerked in his bonds.  "I already told you, I don't 
know his name.  I was blindfolded."
	"I don't believe you," Bruce barked, slapping his ass again, leaving behind 
a large red hand print.
	"I'm telling you the truth."
	"I'm sure you are cutie," Bruce said, rubbing his unshaven chin against 
Aaron's smooth cheek and caressing his chest.  The boy had a nice set of 
pecs, firm and muscular, but smooth and rounded, lacking the sharper 
definition that would come with age.  The smoothness was natural.  He was 
too young to begin waxing yet.  Sweet sixteen.  The perfect age.  He ran his 
fingers over the boy's nipples and they immediately began to grow firm. The 
boy tensed with the pleasure and his captor smiled as he stood to the side 
and caressing his nipple with his right hand slapped his buttocks solidly 
with his left.  Pleasure and pain.
	And so the game continued.   Aaron's ass burned from the repeated slaps and 
his nipples grew firm and itched with the rough caresses.  He answered his 
interrogator's questions, sometimes pleasing him, most often not, and after 
each answer he tensed, not knowing if his response would be rewarded with a 
caress or another slap across the buttocks.  His ass was glowing and even 
the slightest movement of air caused the flesh to tingle.  He felt a hand 
caressing the sensitive inside of his thigh and his cock, already partially 
swollen, responded to the featherlike touch.  Whether it was the pleasure 
pulsating out from his irritated nipples, the heat radiating from his abused 
buttocks, or the helplessness of being strung up and blindfolded, Aaron was 
becoming aroused.  It was a peculiar reaction, one he could not explain when 
he'd first experienced it playing around with Billy Gilman and Haley Osment 
over a year and a half ago at Knotts Wagon Camp Theatre, and one which he 
still could not explain.
	"This turning you on boy?" Bruce asked gruffly, knowing full well that it 
would, and that it was.  Aaron of course could not deny that it was with his 
teenage cock slowly rising in the air, but he could not admit it either.  It 
didn't matter.  Bruce was not looking for an answer.  "Well, you've come to 
the right place for pain," he whispered in his ear menacingly, causing Aaron 
to tremble with excitement.  With a caress of his tender balls, Bruce backed 
away.  Aaron could hear him rummaging around for something.
	As he felt Bruce's presence once more beside him, he tensed, not knowing 
what to expect.  Something brushed against his cheeks and he flinched, 
causing Bruce to chuckle.  He found out what it had been seconds later as it 
brushed his cheeks once again and moved on to his lips.  Bruce kissed him, 
firmly and forcefully as he cupped the back of his head with his left hand 
to hold it still.  Cupping his low-hanging balls with his other hand, he 
caressed them, gently rubbing them as he forced his tongue into Aaron's 
mouth.  The teenager's cock sprang up, fully erect, as the man forced 
himself on him, though in reality Aaron welcomed his caresses and kisses.  
It didn't matter that the man was three times his age and had a daughter 
only a year younger than he was.  The man, despite his age and flabbiness 
from his recent good living, was still an American symbol of the macho man, 
the cock of the roost, and if there was anything Aaron craved, it was cock.  
And speaking of cock, Aaron's jerked excitedly as Bruce's tongue explored 
his mouth, as he felt the man's hands caressing his smooth chest and gently 
fondling his nipples.
	And then, as he withdrew his tongue, a sudden snap of searing pain as 
something was attached to his right nipple caused Aaron to yelp.  Bruce 
laughed again as he attached the second spring-loaded clamp to the left, 
sending another shock of pain through it.  His nipples, swollen and 
irritated already, throbbed with pain as Bruce gave one clamp a tug and then 
the other.  Aaron jerked and twisted, his body swinging from the rafters 
like a rag puppet.  Finally removing Aaron's blindfold, Bruce kissed him 
once again and then leered at him with his dark green eyes as he slowly 
stroked his swollen cock.  Aaron inhaled deeply and held his breath, 
uncertain if the man was intending pleasure or pain, feeling both at the 
moment with the hot throbbing of his cock and the painful throbbing of his 
clamped teats.
	Attaching a narrow leather strap about Aaron's stiff cock just below his 
glans, Bruce drew it tight, and then taking a nylon cord, threaded it 
through a ring on the strap and tied the two ends of the cord  to the clamps 
on his nipples.  Slowly stroking the edge of Aaron's blood-engorged glans 
with the tip of his index finger with a feather-light touch, he caused the 
horny teenager's stiff cock to jerk, pulling on the cord and tugging at the 
nipple clamps and stretching his irritated nipples.  Searing pain shot 
though the two tender buds as pleasure pulsated through his turgid glans.  
The man was skilled in bringing such pain and pleasure to his victims.  He 
leaned forward and licked the tip of the vulnerable cock, again causing it 
to ache with pleasure and to burn with the need to shoot off a load while 
jerking wildly and pulling on the fat teenage nipples.
	Aaron grimaced and pulled on his restraining bonds, much to Bruce's 
delight.  He darted his tongue against the sensitive tip of Aaron's cock, 
causing the stiff member to jerk again.  His nipples felt like they were 
going to be pulled off and his cockhead felt like it was going to explode.  
Standing up, Bruce ran his hot, moist tongue over Aaron's right nipple, 
sending the same burning pleasure through it as he'd felt searing his cock 
head and causing his cock to twitch even more, sending shards of pain 
through his nipples.  He arched his body with the sharp pain in his chest 
and the throbbing desire between his legs and he threw back his head and 
whimpered as Bruce ran a tongue over his other swollen, irritated teat.
	Aaron was close to coming and he closed his eyes and strained in his bonds 
as he felt the pressure doubling in his loins with each attack on his 
sensitive nipples.  He sighed with relief as Bruce's fingers wrapped loosely 
about his aching, throbbing cock and slowly stroked the shaft with 
tantalizing slowness, just barely touching it.  Aaron's breath grew deeper 
and more laboured as he felt that delightful moment approaching closer and 
closer.  Bruce was fully aroused too and as he stroked Aaron he reached 
between his legs and squeezed the bulge in his trousers.  He continued to 
squeeze and stroke himself through his thick pants, openly groaning with the 
pleasure throbbing through his swollen, aching cock, at the same time 
releasing Aaron's throbbing erection.  Released, his cock jerked wildly in 
desperation, the nylon cord pulling ruthlessly on his teats.  The 
practically deranged teenager concentrated on the painful ache in his loins 
and the burning pleasure pulsating out from his abused teats, trying 
desperately to will himself to come.  He was so fucking close.  He clenched 
his eyes and gritted his teeth as he felt that ultimate pleasure seconds 
away, and then slowly begin to subside.
	"No!" he cried out in frustration and dismay, pulling on his restraints 
until the ropes cut into his ankles and his wrists.
	Bruce laughed as he unzipped his thick trousers and pulled out his stiff 
cock.  It was a monster, eight inches and almost three fingers thick.  He 
stood there letting Aaron gaze upon it, knowing how much the kid loved cock, 
how much he was aching to touch it, to slip his lips over it, to feel it 
stuffing his ass.  The kid loved cock, and he knew it.  He was the perfect 
prisoner for his little games.  He stroked his cock ever so slowly with pure 
delight, the delight from the hot pleasure throbbing through it, and the 
delight in seeing the frustration and disappointment in his captive's eyes 
as the horny, bound teenager saw him quivering with the pleasure he'd felt 
seconds ago and now denied him.
	Perspiring profusely in the stuffy, windowless room and in his heavy cotton 
clothing as a result of his efforts in torturing the bound teenager and from 
his sexual arousal, he stripped off his shirt and unzipping the legs of his 
camouflage trousers, he pushed them down and stepped out of them, his stiff 
cock sticking out of his J Crew boxer briefs.  His white, sleeveless T was 
damp and stained with sweat and his biceps streaked with perspiration.  
Pulling up a step stool, he stood on the bottom step and grasping Aaron by 
the back of the head with his left hand, he pushed his pretty face into his 
sweaty right armpit.  Having no choice, Aaron inhaled and the rank, sour 
stink of the man's hairy pit filled his lungs and caused him to gag.  As he 
exhaled, his face still buried in the man's underarm, his hot, moist breath 
accented the stink.  What little sexual desire he had disappeared.
	As revulsion caused his arms and legs to turn to gooseflesh as he inhaled 
again, he felt Bruce begin to stroke his still swollen but no longer aching 
cock once more.  Inhaling with the pleasure returning to his turgid flesh, 
he sucked in the foul air causing the rest of his body to quake as his skin 
grew even tighter and rougher.  Bruce held his head firmly, his biceps 
squeezing his head against his muscular body so that the teenage hostage's 
nose was buried in the man's sweaty pit hairs as he slowly stroked his 
swollen cock with his free hand.  Once again Aaron felt the pressure 
developing in his loins, and once again he sucked in and blew out with 
growing arousal.  Once again Bruce brought him to that peak, and then once 
again suddenly stopped.
	"Please.  Please let me cum," Aaron pleaded.
	"Oh, so soon?  I think not," Bruce replied with a grin as he stepped down 
off the step stool.  The pretense of the earlier game forgotten now in the 
game of sexual torture, he took out a ball strap from his collection and 
attached it to Aaron's swollen nuts along with a leather cock ring which he 
attached at the base of Aaron's stiff cock and drew tight, the cock ring 
cutting off the returning circulation to keep his dick hard, and the ball 
strap keeping his balls pulled up tight and swollen.  Sitting down on the 
step stool in his sweaty T and boxer briefs, he playfully snapped a finger 
against the swollen scrotum, causing Aaron to scream with the pain as Bruce 
stroked himself.  Waiting for the pain to subside, he snapped a finger 
against his aching balls once more and inhaled deeply with the pleasure 
pulsating through his thick cock and the pleasure of hearing the teenage 
heartthrob begging him to stop.  Reaching over, he began to stroke Aaron's 
cock again, knowing that no matter how much he stroked and how much Aaron 
wanted to cum he'd be unable to shoot with the tight strap about the glans 
preventing that final necessary trigger for his release.  As Aaron grimaced 
with the growing pressure once again in his loins and the throbbing delight 
pulsating through his cock, he screamed out as Bruce snapped his tender 
testicles.
	As Bruce rose and unclamped the spring clamps about his nipples and removed 
the nylon cord from them, Aaron was not so naive as to think his torture was 
over.    Bruce would never stop so soon.  He was quite right.  Leaving the 
nylon cord threaded through the loop in the upper cock strap, he took out 
two leather straps and belted them around Aaron's thighs and threaded the 
cord through them so that it pulled his cock down into a perpendicular 
position with his body.  Searching through his playthings once again, he 
returned this time with a long, white candle.  Lighting it, he placed it on 
the step stool, and drew the step stool in front of Aaron so the flame of 
the candle was directly in front of his cock.
          	Removing his boxer briefs and stepping behind him, he slipped a 
finger up Aaron's crack and caressed his asshole, sending ripples of 
pleasure through it.  Aaron's stiff cock tried to jerk with the stimulation, 
but tied down to its ninety-degree position it could not.  Slowly inserting 
the tip of his finger, Bruce stroked Aaron's inner thighs, sending still 
more pleasure through his straining cock.  Ever so slowly he inserted his 
finger until he could insert it no further and then he began to finger fuck 
his ass, causing Aaron to tremble with pleasure once again.  He stroked his 
prostate, sending ripples of pleasure through his swollen cock, having no 
fear that he'd bring the boy off.  He continued for several minutes until 
Aaron's body was as taut as a bow string with arousal and the boy was aching 
to get off a load.  Finally withdrawing his finger, he pulled apart the 
boy's ass cheeks and placed the tip of his cock, oozing with pre-cum from 
his own arousal, against the opening.  Aaron immediately pushed out, eager 
to have the man fuck him despite the length and thickness of the man's cock. 
  He shuddered with pleasure and pain as he felt the man's cockhead slowly 
stretch open his sphincter and he pushed out in a desperate attempt to 
accept him and reduce the pain.  Reaching around in front of him, Bruce 
suddenly pinched his swollen balls trapped in his ball harness, causing him 
to yelp and draw back, empaling himself on Bruce's thick cock.  His knob 
having popped inside Aaron's rectum, Bruce plunged forward, penetrating his 
smooth, teenage ass to the hilt.
	"Ride my cock boy," Bruce ordered.  Wearing only his wool socks and winter 
hiking boots and hanging there from the beams of the ceiling with his feet 
tied spread-eagled to the rings on the floor, Aaron slowly drew forward, 
causing Bruce's cock to ease out of his ass and his own cock, pinned 
perpendicular to his body, to approach the candle flame.  Continuing until 
he could stand the heat no longer, he slowly eased back, sinking Bruce's 
cock back up his ass and drawing his cockhead away from the flame.  And so 
he slowly rode Bruce's cock back and forth and once again the pressure in 
his loins grew, as he knew was the pressure in Bruce's.
	"Faster," the man ordered, and Aaron willing picked up his speed, working 
his body to and fro within the constraints of the ropes holding him and of 
course the candle in front of him, delighting in the pleasure pulsating 
through his ass and the burning of his stretched rectum.  Perhaps, if he 
brought the man pleasure, he would relent and release the straps preventing 
his own ejaculation.
	Bruce grasped his hips and grunted and sighed with the pleasure pulsating 
through his stiff organ, and Aaron quivered as the man's knob brushed back 
and forth over his prostate.  Bruce fought back the temptation to begin 
fucking Aaron's tight, moist ass himself as the teenage boy rode him, and 
Aaron pumped his hips to and fro as rapidly as he could in the hopes of 
brining the man off.
	"Fuck hard!" Bruce ordered, slapping Aaron's naked ass with all the force 
he could and propelling Aaron forward in response to the pain.  The heat of 
the candle caused him to stop with a jerk and to instinctively draw back.  
"Harder," ordered Bruce, slapping his ass with a resounding smack and Aaron 
lunged forward with the sharp pain.  The tip of his cock approached within a 
sixteenth of an inch from the flame before he could stop, and the heat 
caused him to draw back instinctively again, driving Bruce's cock back up 
his rectum.  "All the fucking way," Bruce ordered.  "I want to feel your 
butt pushing against my gut and I want to feel my knob stretching open your 
fucking asshole!"
	He slapped Aaron's now tingling ass once again and his body again 
instinctively thrust forward and he grimaced as his blood-engorged knob 
again approached the flame within a fraction of being seared by his own 
action.  Slapping his tenderized ass like a man riding a bucking horse, 
Bruce drove the teenager forward, delighting in his agony even more than in 
the pleasure of his hot, throbbing cock.  With the slaps to his ass sending 
shocks of pain through the tender cheeks and the pressure building up in his 
loins with each stroke of his prostate, with the pleasure throbbing through 
his numb, swollen cock and the fear of burning the sensitive tip of that 
most precious part of his body, Aaron trembled and gasped within seconds 
from an orgasm but with the binding cock straps and the ball harness he knew 
he would be unable to achieve.  Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down 
his sides as he ached with the sweet pain racking his body.
	Bruce Willis was feeling the same desire as the sixteen-year-old heartthrob 
of thousands of teenage and preteen girls rode his stiff cock, impaling 
himself on the stiff, throbbing organ and thrusting his body forward until 
the bulb began to spread apart his sphincter.  He loved forcing others to 
bring him off, and especially young snot-nosed teenagers like Aaron Carter 
who thought they had the world by the balls. Well, he had the boy by the 
balls, and the boy was hot and tight and moist.
	He inhaled and exhaled sharply as he felt the ripples of pleasure pulsating 
through his stiff cock, as he felt the boy's hot rectum pulsating about his 
aching organ.  Spasms of pleasure rippled through his glans and his balls 
were drawn up tight beneath his cock.  Sweat trickled down from his arm pits 
and beaded on his forehead as the pressure built in his loins.  The slender 
adolescent boy thrust his body to and fro, bouncing against his protruding, 
hairy belly, his compact little ass a fiery red from the spanking he'd given 
it.   As he felt the pressure reach breaking point, he grasped the boy's 
narrow waist and trembled with delight, his hot, thick cum gushing up the 
core of his aching cock and spurting into the boy's rectum.
	As he felt Bruce tremble and his hot semen begin to spurt up his hole Aaron 
whimpered with the delight of having brought off the man but also with the 
frustration of not being able to experience the same pleasure.  His swollen 
cock numb from the constant state of arousal and the straps cutting off his 
circulation, he was relieved that he at least had not seared the tip in his 
drive to please his torturer.   His thin, teenage chest rose and fell as he 
gasped with the mixed feelings and Bruce groaned with the pleasure of his 
climax.
	"Please," he begged with a gasp as Bruce finally withdrew his cock, "please 
let me cum."
	"Cum?" Bruce asked with an evil grin as he walked around in front of the 
boy and snuffed out the candle with his fingertips.  His cock was still 
stiff and streaked with Aaron's ass slime and with his cum, a creamy white 
pendant of his juice dangling from the tip.  "Sure."  As Bruce released the 
straps about his cock and removed the ball harness, Aaron sighed with the 
glow of pleasure as his blood began to flow again, restoring feeling to his 
abused organ.  Bruce stepped up to the top step of the step stool.  "As soon 
as you lick me clean."
	Aaron had no idea if the man actually would bring him off, but desperate to 
release the load that had repeatedly built up inside him and he'd been 
unable to release, he eagerly bowed his head and licked the knob of the 
man's cock, smeared with his cum and the ass slime from his rectum.  It 
tasted foul and he wanted to gag, but he licked it as if it was the sweetest 
lollipop he'd ever tasted.  He ran his tongue over the knob, cleaning it of 
slime, and Bruce shivered with delight.  He bent further, straining against 
the ropes tying him to the rafters as he licked the man's shaft.  The sharp, 
musky fragrance of Bruce's sweaty crotch filled his lungs as he inhaled 
deeply and swallowed the slime and cum coating his tongue.  Slipping his 
lips over the man's still turgid organ, he eased his lips down, sucking on 
it and basting it with his saliva.  He sucked and licked until the man's 
organ was glistening with spittle and not a trace of cum or ass slime could 
be seen.
	Stepping back down off the stool, Bruce grinned at the boy and brushed his 
fingertips along the tip of his cock.  He teasingly ran his finger along the 
boy's glans, and down along the deep blue vein on the underside of his 
aching shaft.
	"Now?" Aaron gasped.
	"Oh no," grinned Bruce with a wicked smile and a gleam in his dark green 
eyes.  "I said as soon as you lick me clean, all of me."  As Bruce pulled 
off his sweaty T and raised an arm, Aaron caught a whiff of his skunky pit 
and the sixteen-year-old pop star knew his torture was not over.  It had 
just begun.

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