By Desert Pioneer
Arriving at the end of the path, Jack gets his first look at the blockhouse. Abandoned now, it was originally built as a defensive lookout by rural politicos to protect and defend. The structure involves a number of loopholes for defensive fire. Holly shit, thinks Jack, they’re using it as a fuck house, and it’s fucking full of glory holes. Although the light from inside is low, the darkness outside lights up each loophole as if it was calling for voyeurs. It appears that everyone is inside, but Jack remains back for some time because the smell of weed is pungent, and someone might still be outside.
After a bit and hearing only a low melodic tap-tap beat from inside, Jack carefully approaches one side of the blockhouse for his first peek.
Officer Merce is standing near the doorway by a small bar. He is talking to Feller in a rapid tone while poking his finger into his chest. Merce is wearing a full CHIP uniform including boots. Jack thinks that his uniform along with the overplayed attitude and arrogant body language smack of an unpolished sexual bully.
At the other end of the floor is Roy and Jack’s first look at the other Goon. Officer Merce walks over and yells, “Hey Street Punk, get your ass out here now.” Street Punk emerges from a jail cell that looks to hold some equipment. Unlike Feller, Street Punk looks out of place in this backwoods setting. He is borderline handsome but carries a tentative stance. Over his gray jeans he is wearing a dark polo shirt, which Officer Merce orders him to remove.
Street Punk pulls his shirt up from the bottom and removes one arm at a time. He is trim with a solid gym body; not muscular but certainly fit. Officer Merce gives him a quick up and down glance and positions him against the bars of the jail cell. Merce disappears into the cell and a few moments later comes out with several sets of cuffs and a leather jacket, which he drops on the floor.
Merce pulls over a small crate and tells Street Punk to put his leg up. Doing so, the uniformed trooper locks one cuff above his work boot and over his jeans. Once the second cuff is secured Merce picks up the leather jacket, which turns out to be a straitjacket. He guides Street Punk’s arms in and locks it up. Motioning with a spin of his hand, Street Punk turns around and a leather collar is locked around his neck. Officer Merce pushes Street Punk firmly to the jail bars and secures him to his position from his neck down to his feet.
Roy’s sultry air penetrates the entire room with anxiety. Jack’s body fills with unease as his dick hardens and asshole puckers. The rugged bull’s topaz skin tone glistens under a head of thick black hair that extends down his wide face. Roy’s penetrating eyes and rigid mouth command respect from the entire room. Dark course hair shows out of the top of a wife-beater tank top he now wears. This tight shirt wraps around and under his bulging pecs. As his thick arm reaches up to push back his heavy dark hair, Jacks sees a series of three kanji tattoos running up his triceps.
Roy’s broad shoulders, supported by an ample deep chest, tapper down to a slim ribbed waist. A heavy leather belt on his tight jeans breaks the line from his abs to a pair of thick muscle thighs. On Roy’s large feet a pair of rugged low-cut boots anchor his weighty body mass. Dense eyebrows over a downward glance convey a sullen look as he silently studies the task in front of him. His perverse intent is as obvious as his power.
“What’s this Merce?” questions Roy.
“This punk’s got a smart-ass mouth,” Merce replies, throwing a quick glance towards Street Punk. “Doesn’t know how to respect authority.”
“For some mall-cop?! I don’t think so,” yells Street Punk.
Roy steps over standing directly in front of Street Punk. “You got a problem?”
“Yeah, fuck you too,” comes back Street Punk.
Roy stands directly in front of Street Punk. Leaning in he whispers, “You gettin what you want punk? Are ya? Tied up to the fuckin jail wall, you think that’s a treat, don’t ya?”
“Piss off freak,” yells Street Punk.
“Drop the mouth punk. All you ever dreamed of is here. But you gotta go through me to get it. Got it?”
Just a few feet down from Roy and Street Punk, Feller is standing with Officer Merce. Except for a pair of dark socks Feller is stripped naked. Officer Merce is attaching a lock on Feller’s dick and putting him into a pair of nut hugger shorts. He carefully positions Feller over a nearby crate and uses leather cuffs to secure his ankles and hands to a set of floor anchors. Legs and arms secure and Feller bent over, Merce splits the back of Feller’s pants open offering a “please butt-fuck me hard” invitation to the entire team.
Lastly Merce puts a hood over Feller’s head with an opening large enough to see his mouth-stash pop out, completely surrounding his puffy lips. Merce snaps off the blinders on the hood. He wants Feller to feel humiliated watching a man penetrate his mouth like it’s a pig’s butt. Officer Merce sits in a chair directly in front of Feller, looks over to Roy like he’s watching porn.
“See my arm pin head, see my big fuckin muscle arm. It needs to be caressed, every fuckin inch of it needs to feel your faggot mouth giving it kisses, kisses outa your cake hole.”
“My chest, you’re gonna kiss every single inch of my huge chest cause you know that if you do, and if you do it right I might reward you with my big fat cock way down your queer throat. You a no gag fag who can take my fat dick the way I do it? The way I use it to fuck whores? You gonna make my cock, my big hard fat prick, feel good, aren’t ya?”
Roy cuts off Street Punk as he begins to speak, “Shut up, shut the fuck up cause your mouth ain’t no good for talkin, only for worshipin.” Suddenly a wad of spit comes flying out of Roy’s mouth hitting Street Punk just above his eye. It runs down his nose and drips into his mouth.
“You a cock suckin fairy, are ya? Your better be, cause yeah you gotta take it deep, open your feeder cause I wanta see what I’m stickin my dick into. Fuckin, see your pussy-ass tongue, my big muscle dick gonna go way past that.”
Roy leans over into Street Punk’s face and with two fingers stretches it open. With one eye pressed up close, he looks into Street Punk’s mouth.
“You still got tonsils, cause I’m gonna take em out. Open your fucking throat wide I wanta get a good look at your fuckin throat fuck hole, kinda like your queer asshole but tighter. You gota tight ass do ya? I gota like fucking your throat before I ram, and I’m sayin like destroy, ram my stiff prick, my rock hard baby maker through your asshole and into your guts and then I’m gonna come back and screw your face again, fuck your face again with the juice from your asshole drippin all over my prick.”
“You’re gonna get my stiff prick the way the whores I fuck take it. Yeah they know how to suck my dick and they can take a pounding as hard as my ass can pump it into them. You gonna take my seed in you punk cause that’s what fags do, take my seed load way up your gut. You crave for my body, my big-ass muscle body, with my powerful arms, my massive chest, and my fierce hunkers that make you quiver and cry and scream cause you know how much I can hurt ya.”
Voices from almost silent techno-trance music make up and down hums. Percussion repeatedly hits drums and chimes. Main vocal sings “Body builder, body builder, build a body for me.”
Roy goes silent taking the stance of a competitive body builder. Combining poses with the use of his self-admiring hands he strokes his tight ribbed abs with one hand and with the other on his lower back pushes his hips forward. Clenched over he moves up while both of his palms rub against the inside of his thighs. His powerful hands work their way up briefly stopping to massage the heavy boner that’s bulging in his pants. His hands continue over his abs and eventually grasp his bulging pecs. Roy’s nut is his entire body and the more he feels worshiped the harder it gets.
While Roy is absorbed in self-worship Jack sees that Officer Merce is using his hands to cup his balls and jack-off his dick with its head surrounded by Feller’s hairy mouth-stash. The music carries on the same undertone with only changing lyrics, “Feel my beat, feel my beat, push through the pain, push through the pain, ready three two one.”
Roy continues showing off his full body muscle physique as Officer Merce lifts Feller’s head up making eye to eye contact. Merce pulls up on his balls, spits on them, and commands Feller to kiss his nuts. Bound to the jail cell bars, Street Punk does nothing else but watch.
All go on for a good hour or so when Merce pulls Feller’s head back and up, releases his arms and legs and carefully removes the hood. Merce then releases Street Punk’s ties to the cell bars and the jacket and gag.
Officer Merce walks to the bar at the other end and pops open two cans of beer. In rank order he hands the first to Roy and next to Street Punk. Walking back, he silently does the same for Feller. After a few minutes with a motion of his head he walks out the door followed by the others.
To be continued …
