The Itch Part I
I picked the two of them up on the Highway, hitching between coastal towns in
Texas. The boy, Michael Allen Caldwell was twenty, the girl, Susan Lee Daniels
was nineteen. They claimed they were married; I laughed under my breath;
they were about as married as I was. They were trash from one of the backwater
towns, trying to sneak away from mean parents and dead end lives. They
claimed they were on their way to Houston, but hell, they didn't know anybody
in Houston. They were just two punk kids, running away.
The boy was a fucking jerk dream. His faded 501's fit tight on his muscled
thighs, and flat butt. He was about 5'11" tall and 170 lbs. His chest was broad
and his pecs jutted rather than projected. His nipples were cones that thrust
down, poking the tight white cotton singlett out in two little darts where it clung
to his chest. The size 10 walking boots were worn and scuffed, and the white
crew socks drooped around his ankles. Dark brown hair curled up and over the
neckline of his singlett, and there seemed to be a dark patch that divided his
pecs and swirled down towards the waist of his jeans. Lighter brown hair
curled down his forearms and covered his fingers, and I guessed his toes.
Above the edge of the drooping socks, there was more thick, curling hair. His
eyebrows were dark brown, but the hair on his head was lighter, like that on his
arms. I wondered what nestled between the firm mounds of his ass. He had full
lips, green eyes, and a light brown mustache that was too thin to be mature, and
darker goatee. I wondered how sensitive his little ears were. I made up my
mind to find out.
You have to love these backwards white trash. The punk was too stupid to
realize how much some men desired him, his dick was constantly erect for pussy
and the smell and sight of a firm titted cunt made him lose any sense that might
have been located inside his thick head. Michael Caldwell had always just done
what he was told so he wouldn’t get whupped by his father, and when he
turned eighteen he knew it was time to be on his own. He didn’t think much,
didn’t try to understand things, he just lived. He’d dropped out of high school
in his junior year to begin working on cars at the local garage, and the only thing
besides a hairy snatch that made him boner up, was the sound of his a
motorcycle throbbing between his legs. Unfortunately, he’d smashed up his,
and so when he and Susan had decided to take off, they had to hitch. His green
eyes were so vacant, so beautiful, I just knew that getting the two of them would
not be hindered by any street smarts located in Michael.
Susan was in a short skirt, with tanned, long legs, and shapely feet in sandals.
Her breasts were full, and thrust up, the nipples poking out the material of her
skimpy halter. She was blond, but the roots were dark. I wanted to see more; it
looked like she had a cum every time she rubbed her legs together, grinding
those thighs and sighing through parted lips. I imagined her clit was 1/2 inch
long, and jutted out to get a good rub against Michael’s fat dong every time he
screwed in and out of her, causing her cunt to spasmodically grip and massage
his big boy pecker, its knob rooting deep in to her and hitting her sweet spot
deep inside. That thought made my cock go hard and start to drool, as we drove
in silence.
When I offered them a place to stay for the night, a meal and a shower, they
were grateful rather than suspicious. They were simple kids, though not local.
He looked like he’d been in the military at some point; maybe they'd taken off
after the end of his tour. I wondered how easy it would be to make them just
disappear. I had clients all over the world who would jump to get a pair of
bodies like this, pure sex on the run, unrefined and randy, always ready to
ejaculate or orgasm and hardly conscious of the reasons why.
After dinner, while she went upstairs to take a long bath, I slipped him a mickey
in his beer. It did not take him long to pass out on the couch, his legs spread, his
body slouched, his head lolling back. I sat down next to him for a minute,
tracing my finger over his lips, into his ears, and then rubbed them against his
nipples through the t-shirt. Even unconscious, his rubbery tit meat hardened
and coned, so I gently rolled then through the white cotton, plucking and
pulling on them to make them stand out. I couldn't wait to roll and suck ‘em. I
squeezed his full crotch, and felt the long, fat bar inside. Yeah, this would be a
pleasure.
I lifted him over my shoulder, and took him downstairs into my cyclone
basement. It took only a few minutes to slip him out of his clothes, pausing to
stroke firm pecs and nipples, pick lint out of his navel, sniff his starchy balls and
his wide, muscled feet. His prong was a the fat spike as I expected, jutting from
his groin, curved like a scimitar, but not too long; I figured it would be about six
and one-half inches hard. But his clipped knob was a fat and rosy helmet, with a
wide flange and deep, long piss groove...one of my favorite types. I closed my
fist around his prick tip and it fit like a golf ball in the palm of my hand. His
prick involuntarily stiffened a bit, and I could feel his dick head getting rubbery.
Shit, when that fucker was hard it would take all kinds of work. My dick was
soaking my boxers.
I put him on his knees on a padded stool with an upper rest for his torso. His
head rested on the upper portion of the bench, and I affixed a collar that
attached to the bench, and fixed his face sideways. Spreading his legs, I attached
his ankles to padded restraints on a spreader bar to keep them wide apart on the
stool, while his sexy feet draped over the back edge of the bench. I noticed the
long, curved toes did have hair on the two largest on each foot, and he had one
of those index toes that ‘s longer than his big toe. I cinched his arms behind his
back and pulled them up and secured them to a rope in the ceiling. He wasn't in
pain, nor stretched too tightly so that he would cramp. But he was secured
firmly. Then I fixed a funnel gag that allowed him to breathe easily, but kept
him from being able to say anything. That's how I like my men, strong, sexy,
secure, and gagged. Before I went upstairs to the girl, I palmed and stroked his
prick to a quick but useless erection. I had a natural here.
A handkerchief over the nose ended a brief and useless struggle with Susan.
When I finished with her, she was secured on her back on a four-poster bed in
the guest room. Her legs were attached to padded restraints over her head, and
spread to the two corners at the top of the bed. Her arms were secured outward
from her body, and allowed to flap helplessly over the edge of the bed. She had
a ball gag, but a rubber one with air holes and not too large for her mouth and I
blindfolded her. I propped up her back with a special pillow to support her
lower back. Jesus, her pussy was spread before me, light blood hair all around
her hole, but the lips were relatively smooth and visible. Her clit was large, and
just like her nipples had hardened while I secured her naked and helpless on the
bed. I imagined that from the time she was thirteen, he clit had ached to be
touched, made her hole long for something to get deep inside and make the itch
stop boys had probably been fingering that hole for years.
I learned later that when she was fifteen her stepfather had got her drunk and
sucked her pussy till she thought she’d die, and then fucked her to her first three
cums. From that time on, whenever a good stiff dick was near, her pussy
seemed to know and started to drool, making her tits get stiff and her cunt ache.
Time to have some fun. I pulled out a slender vibrating dildoe just an half inch
in diameter, greased it up, and gently slid it up her firm butt. Then using some
straps and a leather holster I secured it around her hips. I switched on its
vibrator to the low setting. She had come out of her unconscious stupor and
had begun to try to get a sense of what had happened when the vibrator clicked
on sending a humming buzz deep into her bowels. She jumped like I had used
an electric shock on her. Her butt squirmed, and I began to smell the tell tale
signs of pussy. Her head lolled back and forth, she made small squealing
sounds through her gag, and scrabbled her fingers uselessly over the edge of the
bed. I noticed that her toes, tethered up over her head, curled from the delicious
sensation up her anus.
I discovered that her brother used to finger her butt before he’d screw her when
she was sixteen. He’d seen her getting laid by her stepdad, and one night
slipped into her room to get his share. He’d poled her with his eight inch
eighteen year old cudgel while strumming her clit and pinching her tits, making
her cum and cum again. It wasn’t the last night she’d serviced her handsome
older brother.
I crawled up on the bed, looking straight up between her legs, I could see her clit
slip up and out of its hood at the top of her slit. The lips of her pussy slicked,
wet and greasy, and then turned dark and red. Slipping the fingers of my left
hand up to her left breast, I began rolling her hard nipple, which turned red and
caused more groans and gasps through her gag. With my right hand I took up a
very small, firm horse-hair brush, like the brushes women used in the fifties on
their eyelashes. It had about a quarter inch of tightly packed, stiff bristles on a
small handle designed for fine work. I began a slow, tantalizing path up one
side of her pussy lips and down the other, just avoiding her clit for the moment.
Once in a while, I'd threaten to burrow the bristles into her cunt hole that
seemed tight but could not resist the tiny brush. Then back to itching the
sensitive lips. Within minutes her cunt was swimming in clear goo, wet and
slick, the lips peeling open to expose even more of the red gash. Soon I had her
ass grinding up and down on the bed against the pillow boucing helplessly from
the wicked sensations of the merciless little bristles working on the tender,
sensitive cunt flesh. Then I turned my hand into mini-vibrator and twirled the
bristles against her defenseless, exposed clit. It stretched out in a primitive,
mindless angry demand for attention, and I gave it a workout. God, but to see
those bristles torturing that clit, making it stretch and redden forcing her ass to
move madly from the agonizing and sweet tickle.
She began to cum, unable to control her spaztic cunt and insatiable clit. I
worked her through a series of spasms, pulling and tugging her titties, and
turning up the vibrator in her ass to keep her mind off of finishing her cum. I
could hear her screaming into the gag...yeah, a 'screamer!' As long as the brush
worked its magic, she kept yelling and groaning. When I let her down, her clit
stayed erect as if it could not get enough of the scratchy bristles. I made a
mental note. Her chest heaved, and I let her rest. The night was just
beginning...I whispered sweet nothings in her ear, told her that she would be
just fine as long as she cooperated.
I explained to her that a cunt like hers needed constant work to stop the ITCH,
and I would make sure it felt good, real good. I told her that her clit would get
rubbed by lots of hard pricks, different sizes and shapes, but all with a hard
ridge that would maul her joy button and keep it satisfied. Just to help get her
ready, I rubbed some special cream I’d bought on the other side of the border
onto her pussy lips, into her hole, and on her nipples, and greased the dildo
again with the stuff and slipped it back up her squirming ass. I watched as in
seconds, her natural moisture coupled with the horrible irritant in the cream I
used made her ass start grinding again, this time from the terrible ITCHING.
I used one gloved finger with a little bristle pad around the tip to slip more of
the cream deep up her cunt hole, making sure the walls were well greased and
that I scratched the itch which was driving her insane. Her tits went hard again,
and I lubricated them with the same cream and finger pads, and she began
babbling again behind the gag. As she groaned, I scratched a fingernail on her
still tumescent clit, then leaned close and blew some of my hot breath against it.
She jumped having a mini cum that only made the tickling high up inside her
cunny more unbearable. I’ll be back Susan, now you just lie here and get some
rest, don’t let that itching get to you and try not to cum too much. I heard her
gasp and yell something unintelligible into her ball gag, and as I walked out the
door heard her scream as she spontaneously had an orgasm from the constant
tickling and the work of the little vibrator up her ass. But her butt kept
bouncing, unable to stop what was happening, and I smiled as I left her to baste
in her juices for a while, her clit stabbing into the air begging for some attention.
Down in the basement, I found the boy had awoken but was a still a little
groggy, his fingers struggling futilely to loosen the bonds holding his wrists
tightly behind him and secure. Perspiration rolled down from the dark hair
under his arm pits and wet his brow. I was on the side away from his eyes, and
I blindfolded him to make his situation truly helpless. He tried to move his
head and speak through the gag, but his efforts were fruitless, coming out in
muffled grunts and groans. I leaned down, and took a deep whiff of his body.
The perspiration was musky, but not rank. His hair still smelled of soap from
the shower he took when we first got to my house. I leaned down behind him,
and took a deep scent close to his balls. The strong starchy smell was an elixir,
and the eggs had involuntarily tightened in their pebbled pouch. Much to his
surprise, I gently spread his ass cheeks and smelled his hairy crack. There was
no strong scent, or pungent smell of shit, just more vestiges of soap and the
sweaty scent of manhood. I used my finger-nail to gently scratch the puckered
pink ass lips encircled by a thick thatch of hair. He jerked his hips, rotating
them, as if to escape the finger. Then I drew a fingernail over each duck egg
nestled in his full scrotum, and then along the fat, thick ridge from balls to ass
pucker. He wiggled, he grunted, and best of all his dick quickly hardened
involuntarily...I could hear him sucking air through the funnel.
I squeezed some of the special cream lubricant I had used on Susan onto the
index finger of a latex gloved right digit, once again covered with a thick shock
of short horse hair bristles. Lowering the finger, and spreading his strong
cheeks with my other hand, I began a gradual but firm irritation of Michael’s
clenched butt hole. The dark hair in his crevice almost obscured the tip of my
finger when he flexed his ass against the invasion, but he could not obstruct my
inevitable path to his most private and protected portal. Plus, once the cool
cream touched his hidden anal entry, and the tender flesh of the lips, it became
at once irritated by the maddening itching sensation. The itching caused the tiny
knot to spasm and the muscles to relax and then flex.
I was able to breach the portal on one of those spasms and worm my fingertip
gently and oh so slowly into the clenching channel. Once I got my fingertip in, I
removed it suddenly and replaced it with a nozzle of a squeeze bottle. I
squeezed some more of the creamy lube up and into his hole, then I once again
screwed my fingertip in behind it. The result was spectacular. When I finally,
gradually, wormed my blunt, finger up his confused hole all the way to his
prostrate and let my nail, outlined against the thin latex and covered with the
bristles, scratch against it, Michael let out a yelp through his gag that meant I
struck paydirt. Once there, I prodded the thick lump and then scratched it again
and again. The relentless fingering achieved my intent. His prick jerked rock
hard, curved and jutting up, dripping a clear lube from the deep piss slit,
straining to accommodate the unfamiliar pressure deep up his butt.
I whispered into his ear, telling him how boys like him needed strict cock
supervision. ‘He’d been playing around and using that dick too much, but I
would take care of that for a while,’ all the while watching his thick, curved
pecker strum with vibrations from the intense sensation up his fundament, the
fat knob now covered with his sticky pre scum. I explained that in my
experience, guys like him were better off being secured, their big boy pricks
under restraint, and then when appropriate, those angry hard dicks milked and
drained on a schedule. Then I rubbed his nut hard prostrate again, making sure
the bristles danced on it and the angry red dots that no doubt now covered its
surface. Up burped more pre-scum, lubing his fat dick knob that rested against
his stomach atop his painfully hard prick stalk. He squealed and groaned
behind his gag, and his body tensed from the new and strange sensation deep
up his asshole.
The pressure was unrelenting, but his dick though straining and rigid, could not
yet reach ejaculation. I whispered again: "yeah, that's it, someone should have
been doing this to you since you were sixteen, keeping that dick hard and wet,
but not letting you waste the gism. I'm gonna give that cock relief on a schedule,
train it and you, and you're gonna earn it by keeping in good shape and
following every order I give you. Otherwise, you're gonna be tied down and
shown what happens to disobedient boys...you got that tiger, you need training
and I'm gonna give it to you." His hands clenched helplessly, and his
perspiration dripped in streams from under his arms, and his brow and from
behind his gag loud and persistent though indecipherable noises. He couldn't
see or speak, only groan and moan as I handled his precious body, a body that
had never been out his control in this way. I had the fucker sex hard and scared
shitless.
He gasped and groaned as my finger continued its unerring work, tried to plead
or talk or something, but when I wet the fingers of my other hand and begin
rolling his conical tits, I was sure he lapsed into a new kind of moaning. Yeah,
he was the kind of boy whose body dictated his response. He wanted to fight,
he wanted to escape, but his dick, his tits, and ass betrayed him, making him a
howling boy slut. I alternated the fingers from plucking the sensitive rubbery
teats, to tickling his piss lips and cock flange with my finger pads, revolving my
callused fingertips around his pebbled, hard glans, to gather the lube and
moisten his titties for more of my roiling. After his dick was slick from lube and
desperate for some rough contact that would relieve his tension, I suddenly
plunged my tongue deep in his exposed ear held fast by the collar. At the same
instant, I used my fingernails to scratch, rather than tease his plump, over-
stimulated dick tip. Without warning, his glans expanded from this sensation,
and his cock spasmed, helplessly squirting ten long ropes of thick, white cum up
and out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...ten shots of varying distance and
force, then drips, finally ending in a drool while my finger played a number on
his prostrate, and my fingers pulled and scratched the stiff tips of each tit. His
chest heaved; his body dripped sweat. I noticed his strong toes had curled hard
when he came. I wondered how they would react if I used a stiff bristled brush
on them while I probed up his asshole with a vibrating little prod to make the
cum squirt from his fat balls.
I picked up a slim dildoe with a spiked tickler on the tip and gently, gradually
screwed it up his hole so he would not be in real pain. Using a harness, I
secured it around his waist and thighs. Then I turned it on low, a steady
buzzing testifying to the maddening work on the unprotected prostate, already
sensitive from the previous prodding of my finger and the continued work of
the itching lubricant. His dick snapped up hard again after a brief respite from
the initial cum. More lube burped up to the lips of his thick, wide prick knob.
Using the dregs of his cum and the new lube, I began a slow twist of my
fingertips around the sensitive glans once again. The angry red of the irritant
soon appeared all around his fat sweet dick knob. His cock was desperate for
real contact because it had not been massaged into submission in a clenching fist
or gripping pussy when he had come the first time. As he gasped and groaned,
desperately trying to keep his prick tip from my rough, tickling fingertips, I
whispered again into the ear so recently wet from my screwing tongue. "Yeah
that it big boy, that prick without a conscience need adult supervision needs to
be tickled and played with it by someone who knows that you’re one of those
straight boy whores who lives for his cock. Guys like you need to be kept prick
hard for a week before you're allowed to screw some chick, and then if you cum
too quickly, you should get a cattle prod on the balls. From now on, that pecker
will only cum when its given permission. You got that tiger, you're just a dick
on a boy from now on, and you're new job will be to satisfy others with that
thick cudgel...and maybe, just maybe, you'll get a little relief too. Those spunky
balls are going serve up slime on command from now on...yeah....but if you’re
not good, you may never touch it again."
As I tickled his dick almost beyond endurance, I also told him that I knew some
guys who be happy to relentlessly fuck his girlfriend into a delirium of orgasms,
so he shouldn’t worry about her. I told him he would hear her groan and beg
for dick as they masterfully fucked her silly, and gave her itchy cunt a cum bath
to soothe the endless ITCH. I told him we would jerk her off in restaurants, on
car trips, in bars, just to see her eyes roll and watch her bite her lips as she
gushed pussy juice on waiting fingers. And using a remote controlled, powerful
little electric ass plug up his butt, he’d have to sit there and watch with a hand
massaging his hard pecker, but not enough for him to cum. We’d invite guys in
johns to give him hand jobs, and take him to drive ins where he could be moved
from lap to lap while we pinched his titties, sucked his ears, and played with his
pecker. When we had both of them at home, he would be strapped right below
long and stiff dicks reaming in and out of her hungry pussy, and he would have
to lick her cum and theirs from her sticky hole to soothe her twat between
screws. His job would be to keep her primed and ready for more dick, and fuck
if he wasn’t going to see dick close up in her cunny from now on. If he didn't
cooperate, I warned him I'd use an electric brush on his balls, feet, abs and under
his arms until he screamed himself silly begging us to stop tickling him. God I
love whispering nasty shit into their ears when their prick hard and tied down.
Even as I spoke, though, fuck if his randy dick didn’t just hardened up even
more, his tits jutting against my plucking fingers, and he moaned like I'd said
stuff that got to him and stretched his fuck pole with unexpected, mindless
pleasure.
I told him if he licked pussy good, and also the men's hairy assholes to help
them enjoy the fucking, he would get the gentle dildoe up his hole and a nice
rough palm on his prick to soothe his needs on a regular schedule. If he licked
the guys toes, and their arm pits, he'd be bounced on laps while his boy dick was
massaged to gism spewing cums. Otherwise, I use my own version of an electric
toothbrush on his dick knob and up his asshole, and I'd add some irritant (the
cream) to raise angry red bumps on his prick tip, on his tits, and up his butt
along the sensitive lining. The last thought must have sent him over the edge,
because without warning, he creamed again against my teasing fingers as I
rasped out the threat of scrub brushing his dick knob. I immediately decided I'd
try it anyway since the thought seemed to cause him such pleasure. "Oh, oh...
now you've been a bad boy, and creamed without permission. Well, I'll just
have to come back here and give you the appropriate punishment, later...." He
sagged in his restraints, and seemed to sob behind the gag. But his dick hadn't
gone soft.
This boy was going to stay hard until I decided who would get both he and the
girl for the overseas market. I wondered how he'd look with his legs strapped
over his head, and mouth gagged open while his hard prick was jerked off into
it and filled with ropes of his own cum? If he was lucky, I’d have guys bring
over some of their boys stashed away around the county, to be masturbated into
his funnel for him to swill their cum too. Some of these boys were only not
allowed to cum without permission for days, depending on how unruly and
undisciplined they were. There were a couple of hard cases I knew, one ex-
Marine and a good old boy trash, that had been kept bonerized but without
relief for more than two weeks. Yeah Michael would get some good loads down
that throat before we shipped him abroad for some rich folks’ pleasure.
These young, mindless kids, they’ve just got the ITCH, and they need to have it
soothed and managed. Michael Caldwell and Susan Daniels were now lost
from the pages of history, but their supple young bodies would serve as tasty
morsels for many a wealthy person's palate, and getting them ready would be an
absolute delight. As I left him to return to Susan, I scooped some of the thick
white scum that had burped from his dick onto my finger and tasted it. A nutty,
starchy flavor, and more where that came from. Boy was this gonna be fun....
