This story details the early sexual experiences of a young boy named Bryce, as told by him.  It is a continuation series with a number of chapters that touch on many topics, including M/b, t/b, b/b, incest, masturbation, oral, anal, ws, scat, and forced sex, although not every chapter will include all topics.  If you are offended by any of these topics, or if the discussion of sexual acts involving minors is not your bag, please stop reading now.  Otherwise, I hope you enjoy my writings.  Feedback is welcome at brycewriter@gmail.com   

Bryce's Unnatural Life
Chapter 11

After Barb and Adam left, my dad dropped a bombshell.  "Get some clothes together, we are going on another trip" he announced.  Crap.  What was this all about?  "Where are we going?" I asked meekly, a little knot growing in my stomach.  Unlike the last time, when he tried his con-man act to sugar coat my trip to hell with the Jarkot family, dad was straight and to the point.  "I met a guy from Eastern Europe on the internet.  He and his boys are visiting in a hotel about an hour away.  We are going to go have some fun with them".  "Why?" I asked, although I half knew the answer already.  There was money involved, I was sure of that much.  "Listen" dad started, "I saw you and that kid cuddled up together in your bed last night when I came home.  I know you and Bobby and you and Devin have been fagging with each other, so you must be liking it.  Don't ruin a chance for us to have some fun and make some money.  Go get some clothes, we'll only be there one night."

The hour long drive a couple towns away was mostly uneventful.  Dad got a call from Mr. Jarkot and they chatted for around ten minutes.  Afterwards, dad told me that he was very happy that I had "behaved" and that Mr. Jarkot told him to tell me that "tonight was Oscar's turn, whatever that means".  I knew full well what it meant and laughed, wondering if Oscar had any idea at that moment that tonight his butthole was going to be split open.  The same butthole that had farted in my mouth was going to be stretched tight around Mr. Jarkot's big, stiff peepee.  I could hear his screams in my mind, envisioning Oscar squirming under his father's big body, the searing pain, such a contrast to the pleasure my tongue had no doubt brought him there.

Despite the little joy such thoughts brought me, I was filled with worry as we pulled into the parking lot of a very nice hotel.  Nicer than any I had ever stayed at before.  Dad had explained just a little as we drove here, insisting that it "Won't be bad, nothing like the Jarkot boys".  Still, his ideas of "bad" and mine were sometimes worlds apart.  I was half tempted to ask if he considered getting a mouthful of poop "bad" but thought better of it.  If he didn't already know about that part, no sense planting any seeds.

We checked in and went to our room.  I watched TV while dad wandered off to find his new friend.  As I lay on the bed, my thoughts were of Adam.  What was he doing at that very moment?  Was he missing me as much as I missed him, the feeling of his soft, naked flesh pressed tight against mine?  The smell of his hair bunched up in my nostrils, the fresh wetness of his tongue as it twirled inside my mouth.  I couldn't wait until next week and had my hands stuffed in my shorts, rubbing my stiffness as I thought about him!

Dad came back a short time later and escorted me to a room a couple floors up.  We entered a really nice suite that had a large livingroom and a separate bedroom.  I was introduced to Mr. Frish and his two sons, Dima and Sasha.  Mr. Frish was a large man.  Not big and muscular like Mr. Jarkot, but he was fat.  Not flabby fat, or obese, but he had a big, firm belly.  He did not have very much body hair, and at the moment was sitting back in a big chair with his older son, Dima, kneeling between his spread legs and sucking on his very stiff peepee, which appeared to be about the same size as my dads.

Dima was twelve, had short, close cropped brown hair, a medium build with just a little bit of a belly, and was wearing a pair of skimpy, grey colored cotton underpants.  He seemed very adept at the job he was performing and only glanced towards me as the introductions were being made, his mouth sliding up and down on his father's stiffness.  Sasha, who was seven, was laying on the couch wearing blue, cotton underpants with a red and white logo in the groin.  Like his brother's, they were cut in a "speedo" style and left little to the imagination.  His hair was also dark brown and cut very short.  Not quite a crewcut, but close.  He had a nice, medium build, very smooth, clean, well tanned skin.  His eyes, I noticed, were a very pretty bluish-green mix.  His lips were quite full and bubblegum pink.

Mr. Frish, in his heavily accented English, made the introductions.  He then explained that Dima was getting him ready for his "afternoon fuck" and we were "just in time to watch".  Pulling the twelve year olds face from his groin, Mr. Frish stood up, barked some orders in a foreign language, then watched as Dima stood, slid his grey undershorts down, and put his hands on the arm of the chair.

Mr. Frish wasted no time.  He turned his groin into Dima's bottom, used one hand to guide his peepee into place and pushed full forward, sending his stiffness in Dima in one effortless stroke.  I was amazed.  I had never actually seen two people "buttfuck" in real life (at least not one that wasn't me, which I hadn't technically been able to watch anyway) and now, less than five minutes after we walked in the room, here it was.

Mr. Frish grabbed Dima by his hips and was thrusting in and out at a pretty good clip.  Dima had hardly uttered a sound and was just standing there staring straight down, his hands resting on the chair, as "slap, slap, slap" filled the air over and over.   He didn't appear to be encountering much discomfort, although I noticed that his peepee, which had the extra skin at the tip, was hanging limply between his legs, swinging back and forth as the thrusts from behind collided against Dima's backside.

As he continued pumping, Mr. Frish asked my dad if he "fucked" me much.  "Only a few times" dad replied, "Mostly I use his mouth".  "Nice" Mr. Frish said "I fuck Dima every day (every day? Holy crap, no wonder he wasn't making a fuss) but Sasha uses his mouth very well.  I am saving his ass for when I wear this one out."  He laughed as he said this, still "slap, slap, slapping" back and forth, just as casual as could be.  

After a few more minutes had passed, Mr. Frish looked over at Sasha and said something in the foreign language.  Sasha jumped up from the couch and joined his father at the chair, dropping down to his knees and opening his mouth.  As he did so, Mr. Frish withdrew from Dima's butt, turned to face Sasha, and slid his peepee all the way to the root inside the little boy's mouth.  "Uh, uh, uh" Mr. Frish grunted out as he grabbed the back of Sasha's head and locked him in place, his butt cheeks clenching as Sasha's throat muscles were gulping up and down.

"Sasha likes papa's cream, don't you?" Mr. Frish asked as he pulled his softening peepee from the boy's mouth.  Sasha shook his head up and down but didn't say anything.  Dima had pulled his underwear up and was standing silently next to his father.  Both boys appeared to be just like me, very passive, very aware that they had little choice in the unnatural naturalness in their lives.  

"Dima is quite ready to entertain you now if you like" Mr. Frish said to my father.  "Why don't you and he go down to your room while the younger boys get acquainted" he added.  "Sounds like a good plan to me" my father said before turning to me and saying "Mr. Frish wants some pictures of you and Sasha.  Do what he says, I'll be back later".  And with that, Dima threw on some shorts and a shirt and they were gone.  My dad had left me in a hotel room with a complete stranger who had just "buttfucked" one son before squirting his "cum" into the mouth of another.  Amazing. 

"Let's go into the bedroom" Mr. Frish said and so we walked in.  Indeed, there in the bedroom was a camera on a tripod, pointing at the king sized bed.  I also noticed that there were four lengths of rope, two tied at the headboard, two at the footboard, laying on the bed.  "Why don't you undress and I will explain" Mr. Frish said.  He continued speaking as I stripped down.  "Because my boys are so good to me, from time to time I allow them an indulgence" he said, and although I had no idea what an indulgence was, I did take note that thus far, I was the only naked person in the room and I self consciously covered my groin with my hands.  "Today it is Sasha's turn.  He has decided that he would like to play the role of a master".  

This was not getting any better but I sat down on the edge of the bed and continued listening.  "You are going to play the role of the servant" he said.  No real surprise there I thought as he continued on.  "The servant has been disobedient and has been brought to the master's room, tied to the bed and is going to punished and will then use his mouth to bring pleasure to his master".  Well the mouth pleasure part was easy enough to figure out.  The part that had me worried was the punishment part.  "What kind of punishment, sir?" I asked.  "Child's play" Mr. Frish said, laughing as he reached out and made a playful jab at my arm, "Nothing serious, just a little child's play."

I looked over at Sasha.  He was smiling, the first time I had seen him display any emotion thus far, his pretty eyes wide in anticipation.  He did look cute in his little blue briefs, his two round butt cheeks stretching the rear of the material very seductively.  I could think of worse masters that I would have to serve, and a little "child's play" punishment at least sounded tame enough.  So when Mr. Frish directed me to lay face down on the bed, and began securing my arms and legs with the four ropes, I complied, hopeful that I wasn't falling victim once again to my own ignorance.  Unfortunately, I was.

After I had been secured to the bed, Mr. Frish started tickling me.  Not for long, just enough to make me squirm against the restraints.  He stopped when he was satisfied I couldn't wiggle out of them.  My face was towards the headboard, and I had to turn side to side to see anything behind me, which I did when I started hearing the "click, click" noises of the camera.  Looking to my right, and back, which is where the tripod was, I could see that Mr. Frish was busy snapping pictures of me, naked and tied to the bed.

He stopped, spoke in the foreign language to Sasha, then started clicking again as the boy walked up beside me.  Sliding his underwear down, I could see his little peepee was stiff, the very tip of the head poking just outside the extra skin.  It was not very thick, and only around two inches or so long.  Grabbing his underwear in his hands, he bunched them into a ball and pushed them into my face.  "Do they smell good?" he asked in his thick accent, giggling as he did so.  Well they didn't smell bad.  Not too bad anyway.  It was obvious they had been wrapped around a little boy groin, with some slightly stale pee odor and just a hint of poopy smell, but all in all not too bad.  

"Open your mouth" Mr. Frish directed, still snapping pictures as his son crushed his underpants into my nose.  Open my mouth? Did he want me to lick the underwear? As I opened my mouth to ask that very question, Mr. Frish said something to Sasha, who began giggling as he stuffed the balled up underpants straight into my mouth.  "What the heck" I tried to say, but it came out as a muffled mixture of garble.  Unfortunately, trying to speak had opened my mouth even wider, which allowed Sasha to cram even more of the underwear-gag inside.  He quickly grabbed a large rubberband that was sitting on the nightstand, stretched it over my head and locked the gag in place.

"Click, click" went the camera as I tried to speak, but was having no success.  The only noise I could make was a very muffled, barely audible grunt.  To add insult to injury, the only part of the underwear hanging out of my mouth was the butt part.  The increased reliance on using my nose to take deep breaths now amplified the poopy smell, which was sitting right beneath my nostrils.  "Click, click" I heard as Mr. Frish gave more direction in the foreign language.  

I watched Sasha open the nightstand and pull out a wooden paddle, about a foot and a half long, eight inches wide and maybe half an inch thick.  He looked at me, smacked his own hand with the paddle several times and, smiling, said "You have been bad, I must spank you".  He then walked around the bed to the other side.  I turned my head to face him, the camera now out of my view, but still clicking.  Fully aware of what was coming, I tried tugging against the ropes to turn my body away from him, but couldn't move more than an inch or two.  "Click, click" went the camera as he raised his paddle wielding arm over his head.  I closed my eyes and clenched my butt cheeks in anticipation of the inevitable.  

I actually heard it before I felt it.  A loud, sharp crack as the paddle landed square on my butt. It sounded really bad.  It hurt worse.  It felt like a bolt of lightening had landed right on my bottom, which was now ablaze with fire, tingles traveling down both legs right to my toes.  My eyes immediately filled with tears and I tried to scream, unsuccessfully, as I struggled fiercely against the ropes holding me in place.  "Click, click, click" I heard before Sasha said "You are bad" and delivered two more quick smacks of equal intensity against my bottom.

The second and third smacks only intensified the horrific pain.  As I continued to struggle against the bounds, my entire body stiffened and I sobbed uncontrollably into the underwear gag.  The fourth and fifth smacks sent me over the edge.  I "collapsed" into the bed, my body limp, my bottom on fire, stinging with a burning pain that felt like someone had been hacking at me with a sword.  Miraculously, thankfully, he stopped after the fifth one.

"Click, click" I heard as Sasha moved around the bed to the nightstand beside me.  My eyes were blurred with tears, but I could hear that he had opened the drawer and was rummaging through things.  He and Mr. Frish were babbling back and forth in their strange language.  Suddenly, I felt something cool and creamy being squirted onto my butt cheeks.  "Click, click" I heard as Sasha's small hands rubbed the substance into my skin, which seemed to ease the stinging fire back there.  He then came to my head and, using some Kleenex, wiped the tears from my eyes and helped me blow my nose.  

"Are you better?" Sasha asked as he finished wiping the snot from my nose.  Gagged, I couldn't reply vocally, so I nodded my head.  Anything was better than that darn paddle.  "Good" Sasha replied, a slight smile on his face, "be good okay?"  I nodded again as he turned back to the nightstand, rummaged some more, then pulled out of small, white, plastic tubular thing that looked to me like a miniature missile, tapered at one end. He started giggling as he turned a knob on the bottom and it began buzzing.  

Turning the knob again, the little missile stopped buzzing and Sasha turned back to the drawer and pulled out a blue and white tube with "K Y" on it.  Popping open the tip, he squeezed some clear, thick gooey gel onto the missile, then moved back around to the other side of the bed.  "Click, click" I heard from the camera as I felt the fingers of one of Sasha's hands pulling apart my butt cheeks.  Looking back as best as I could, I saw that he then took the blue and while tube, inserted it between my cheeks and squeezed some of the gel against my hole.

Now I know I wasn't a rocket scientist or anything, but you really didn't need to be too smart to figure this one out.  That missile was headed for my butthole.  Thankfully, it really wasn't that thick, maybe two thirds the thickness of my dad's peepee, and, aided by the creamy gel stuff, it slipped right inside me with one push by Sasha.  It didn't really hurt, I just felt "full" back there, like I needed a crap.  "Click, click" I heard and then felt a sudden vibration inside my hole as Sasha apparently turned the knob again, and a muffled buzzing noise could be heard.  "Click, click, buzzzzzzzz" were the only sounds I heard for a few moments as the vibrations in my butt gave me little tingly feelings.  My peepee, trapped in the sheet beneath me, had started to stiffen and I had to shift myself a little to allow it room to grow.   

Sasha pulled the rubberband from my head and yanked his underwear from my mouth, which was now dry and pasty.  Holding a small glass of water to my lips, he gave me a drink.  Mr. Frish took a moment from his picture taking to adjust the ropes so my body slid farther down on the bed, making more room up at the pillow end where my head was.  He then took one of the pillows and shoved it under my groin, elevating my backside, creating a lewd display for the camera of my bottom, the end of the vibrating white missile poking out between my buttcheeks.

Sasha climbed onto the bed into the newly created space near my head and presented his snow white groin to my face.  "Do me good" he ordered, "or I spank you again".  No problems there.  If nothing else, I knew how to do this "good" and, aided by the pleasures of the non-stop tingling sensations of the vibrating missile rippling through my bottom and pulsating into my groin, I went to work.

The smells of his underwear I had experienced earlier were now the flavors of Sasha's slightly chubby little boy groin.  Just the slightest hint of dried urine flavored my tongue as I busied myself with my mouth on him, licking and slurping the folds of flesh of his thighs, gently suckling his tiny nutsack, and then sucking madly at the little peg of peepee flesh.  Sasha moaned his approval, grabbing my head gently, the sounds of his "uh, uh, oh" joining the "Click, click, buzzzzzz, slurp, slurp" noises in the room.

When he had his first "orgasm", his little spread legs stiffening as he cried out, I kept going.  When he cried out again a few minutes later, pulling my head tight against his smooth flesh, I still kept sucking.  I sucked like there was no tomorrow, horribly afraid of being smacked with that paddle again, I didn't care if Sasha's peepee broke off in my mouth, nothing was going to stop me from doing "good" for him.  

After a few more minutes of intense sucking, Sasha cried out his happiness once again, and when he did so, pulled my head back, shifted his lower body and presented his bottom to my mouth.  No problems here either I thought as he used his hands to spread open the fleshy butt cheeks.  Little brown flecks set in a dry ring of very light brown film covered his hole.  Licking and sucking at the tight ring of flesh, his pink hole quickly appeared and I just as quickly crammed my tongue inside the little soft opening.  

"Click, click" I heard right next to my head.  Mr. Frish had moved up to the top of the bed and was busy snapping pictures of my face glued to his son's butt opening, my pointed tongue swirling around inside the moist flesh of his tiny poop chute.  Sasha continued moaning his approval and it wasn't too long before he cried a fourth time, his lower body quaking against my face as I sucked on his sensitive ring of butthole flesh.

After that, Sasha released his cheeks and shifted his hips backwards from my mouth, which by now was dried out and needed a break.  He and Mr. Frish babbled more of their language back and forth before Mr. Frish said to me "He wants to wee in your mouth and then the game will be over."  The game?  Apparently someone forgot to tell me we were playing a game.  This must be a new game called "Beat Bryce til his butt is on fire".  Remind me not to pick that one next time I'm on the playground.  And while it wasn't my favorite thing to do, swallowing this kids piss was still going to be much better than getting beat again.

By now, the vibrating missile in my bottom was starting to itch something fierce, so I said "Sure, but could you take that thing out of my butt first?"  Mr. Frish smiled and said "OK", reached back, grabbed the end of the little missile and slowly pulled it out.  The buzzing was much louder now until Mr. Frish turned the knob and it stopped.  My butthole felt funny, a weird empty feeling, but also a rush of cool air that seemed to flow right up inside me.  He tossed the device on the floor as Sasha repositioned himself on his knees in front of me.

I had to stretch myself up as Sasha leaned forward in order for me to reach his limp peepee, which I took into my mouth.  Mr. Frish stopped me, explaining "I can't take a picture of the wee if he is in your mouth".  I opened my mouth and Sasha grabbed his little peepee, pulling back on the skin until the tip poked out.  I opened my mouth as he aimed in towards me.  It took a few moments as he strained to pee, and when the first spurts began, it was immediately obvious that Sasha didn't have very good aim.

The first shot hit my nose and left cheek area and as he worked to reposition himself, he ended up hosing down half my face before the stream landed in my mouth.  I didn't taste it straight away, I was busy trying to keep steady to avoid more piss on my face.  When I was forced by the sheer volume to swallow, the warm, salty flavors I had experienced in the past were about the same here.  "Click, click" went the camera, a subtle reminder that my mouth-as-a-toilet experience was being captured for eternity.  

He has a pretty good flow going, but it died down relatively quickly until the last few dribbles were splashing on my lips.  I swallowed again, took the tip into my mouth to clean off the last of the residue and Sasha pushed one final time.  The last surge of his urine squirted out, just as a little fart and a squeaky giggle came out.  Sasha then pulled away and jumped off the bed.  Mr. Frish put the camera down, untied me, and I was able to get up and stretch.  

My hand wandering back to rub my bottom, still tender from the spanking.  There was also still a little itch in my butthole from the missile thing and I used my finger to scratch at the opening, which was still wet with the gooey gel.  I asked to use the bathroom, where I cleaned myself up and took a pee myself.  When I came out, Mr. Frish seemed happy with the pictures he had, but asked if we would play some on the bed while he took some more and we waited for my dad to get back.  

End of part 11.
To be continued.
