The Tree-Sling

I guess you could call it a redneck's version of a sling. It consisted of a pair of 2 x 4's, each about two feet long, hammered at a downward angle into opposite sides of smooth-barked tree about two feet in diameter. You placed your thighs on the planks, with your ass hanging over, hugged the tree and held on for dear life.

Held on, that is, until your ankles had been tied off--tight--behind the trunk and your wrists, with a second nylon rope, had been pulled so tight the right side of your face ended up pressed against the tree trunk. At least the bark was smooth.

Now you were trapped. Helpless. Nearly immobile. And at your Dom's mercy. It was exhilarating!

The tree stood in the center of a circular, man-made clearing about 25 meters deep into a stretch of woods that paralleled a tall, grassed-over embankment. The embankment, in turn, looked down on a man-made canal, or Byway.

My new "friend" and I had agreed to meet at the Bird Street entrance, where he claimed to have a "special place" hidden in the nearby woods. Turns out he did. We'd hooked up on Craigslist and after exchanging a few emails we'd finalized things on the phone. His parting remarks:

"I may bring a couple of friends. That OK?"

"S-Sure," I replied nervously. "More the merrier."

"You'll be our little sissy slut?"

"Yes. Yessir."

"Be there."

"Yessir. Should I--"

But his phone had gone dead. I was talking to myself. My bare knees were shaking. I was about to meet a complete stranger in the woods for sex. This was how people got murdered. I needed another shot of vodka. Or three.

At first there were just the two of us. He emerged from the edge of the woods, about a hundred meters down from where I'd parked, just as my own weight was carrying me down from the crest of the embankment. He was wearing, as promised, a green John Deere cap. Mine was red. He was dressed in a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans and construction boots; I had arrived in canvas beach shoes, black drawstring pants and a pink Polo. And lace-trimmed panties to match.

He signaled me forward. We entered the woods. He was tall and burly. A monster. I hadn't seen pics of his face or body; only his cock. Another monster.

We entered the clearing. HIS clearing. A black backpack stood at the perimeter. He told me to undress.

"Everything?" I asked. "Even my--"

"Everything."

I placed my clothes in a neat pile on top on my shoes, pink panties on top. Then I turned to face my burly, bearded Dom. He looked me up and down, somewhat dismissively.

"You're skinny," he said. "You healthy?"

"A hundred percent. Yessir."

I enjoyed standing naked in front of other men. I was starting to get an erection--such as it was.

"Other guys fuck you?"

"Sometimes."

"They wear protection?"

"Oh, always," I lied.

He looked toward the tree. "The other guys are coming. Let's get you on the tree."

On the tree. There I sat, face smushed to the tree truck, shrinking hard-on pressed to it, waiting. Boredom started to set in. This is uncomfortable! Will someone PLEASE start fucking me?"

A cold daub of K-Y jelly pressed against my crack. My cheeks were spread, my asshole exposed. He pushed two fingers in. Then three. He pushed them in to the knuckle. His beer breath pelted my left ear:

"You ever been fisted?"

"No. No Sir."

"Ever wanted to be?"

"I..."

"I could see fisting you sometime. Not tonight but...First fingers, then a hand then an entire fist..."

"Oh!" I don't particularly like being fingered but his talk was driving me wild!

"Would you like that, sissy? My entire fist up your ass?"

"Hey Ronnie," someone I couldn't see said from circle's perimeter. "You starting without us?"

Ronnie's fingers withdrew, he backed away.

"I was just getting him ready," he said, a little breathlessly.

"Skinny little fuck," the same guy said, coming closer. "Can he take a big cock?"

"He'll take it."

A third guy said, "Hey Ronnie, what's up? How's my sister?"

"Miserable," he replied, from a distance. Maybe he was wiping his fingers clean, over by the backpack.

"Miserable in bed? Miserable in life? What?"

"Yes, yes and...yes."

"I brought a twelve-pack," the second guy said.

Someone--probably the brother-in-law--smacked my left cheek.

"Skinny little ass," he said, near my ear. "You like big cock?"

"Yes. Yessir, I--"

"Cause I'm gonna fuck you till your balls fall off. You have balls?"

"Yessir."

His beer breath was closer. He was pinching the same cheek he'd spanked. "Huh? Do you?"

"Little ones," I admitted, as my audience of three cackled laughter, and beer cans popped open.

"So who goes first?"

"We'll let Ronnie go first. He's got the smallest pecker. We'll let him open our boy up good."

"Yeah," said Ronnie. "Ask your sister how small my pecker is."

"I did," the brother-in-law replied. "And she said it's nuthin' compared to that black guy at the bowling alley she's been screwing."

"Yeah," Ronnie said over the cackling laugher, "fuck you guys. You want me to go first I'll go first. Fuck you. I'm horny as a son-of-a-bitch."

"That's 'cause," the brother-in-law said to the third guy, barely able to contain his laughter, "he ain't gettin' any at home!"

"Fuck you guys! Fuck both of you!"

A crushed beer can clattered off into woods to my right. I sensed--though I could not see--someone standing close behind me again. I heard a belt buckle come undone, then a zipper lower.

"Hey Ronnie," the brother-in-law said. "Make sure you wear a rubber, OK? Don't want no sloppy seconds when my turn comes."

"Or thirds..."

"I'd loan you one of my magnums but...," again barely able to contain his laughter, "I'm afraid your little thing'd get lost in it!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Ronnie said.

I could hear him breathing through his nose as, presumably, he attempted to roll a condom down his stiff cock.

"Look at that smooth ass," he said, of mine, running his coarse paw over a cheek. "I'm gunna fuck the shit out of it."

I felt the wiggly condom tip against my asshole. He pushed in, about halfway. They were right. His cock wasn't all that thick. But it was long--as I abruptly found out when he shoved it all the way in.

I felt like I could feel it all the way to my throat. My head arched back against the tree trunk. It hurt, briefly.

"Ow," I said.

"It hurt little boy?" Ronnie asked through his teeth.

"I'm fine."

"It gunna hurt a whole lot more 'fore I'm done."

He drew his cock out to the head, then shoved it in all the way again. I was glad he'd fingered me with lube earlier. Just as I was glad I'd "opened myself up" in the shower, with my largest dildo, before leaving the house.

Still deep inside me, and throbbing, he crabbed his hands between the tree trunk and my tits, and gave them a squeeze. In one of my emails I'd sent him a picture of my tits and told him I was taking breast-growth supplements.

"Shee-it," Ronnie said, pulling his hands back. "My twelve year old daughter's got bigger tits'n you."

I didn't even want to contemplate the implications of this remark. Besides, he was fucking me now and I was losing myself in the awkward pleasure.

"Give it to him, Ronnie!" the brother-in-law called out.

"Fuck him good!"

"Look at this action," one of them said.

"Zat a new smart phone?"

"Fuck, man, I had this'n. Marleen and the kids gave it to me for Christmas. Takes great fucking video!"

Oh god, I thought, as Ronnie's long cock continued to slide in and out of me. They're videoing this. The whole thing will be posted on some gay porn site before the day is done. Well, with my face in profile and smeared against this tree, at least it'll be hard to recognize me...

I wasn't even aware Ronnie had cum. He remained completely silent. All I knew was that he had suddenly backed out of my gaping hole. I could hear his breathing.

"Damn, Ronnie! You done already?" I could tell the brother-in-law was advancing just I could tell Ronnie was backing away. "Small AND fast?"

"Fuck you, Matt," Ronnie said, in passing. "Toss me a beer, Charlie!"

For the second time this afternoon Matt came up behind me. This time he pinched--hard--both my butt cheeks.

"You our little faggot?" he said, beer breath close to my ear. "You like it up the ass don't you? Love it, don't you? Fairy faggot!"

The pinching would leave red marks for weeks, I knew. But the pain was, well, it was delicious! I let out a gasp.

"Ever seen one a' these?" he asked, holding a gold-and-back foil Magnum packet in front of my face. "Answer me."

"Yes--no, sir." I wasn't sure which answer he wanted. Had I ever been fucked by a well-endowed guy wearing a Magnum condom. Yeah, plenty of times. But in the final analysis I decided to flatter him.

"No, sir."

"Well, get ready for the Big Boy, fucker."

"Yessir."

Matt didn't waste time with preliminaries. He shoved it right in. His cock was thick all right--but not the thickest I'd ever had. A sometime lover of mine--another Craigslist find--had a cock the diameter of a Coke can. Talk about a mouthful! An assful!

"Stop moaning so loud," he said a couple of minutes into our, if you could call it that, love-making. "Somebody might hear us."

Hear us? Who? I wondered. We were out in the middle of nowhere, deep in the woods. Besides, I wasn't moaning--I was gasping. His pace was furious. Thick and furious. I tried closing my mouth...but I couldn't breathe.

I orgasmed, a dry one, my rectum tightening around his moving cock like a fist clenching and unclenching. I pushed him out. He shoved it back in.

"Fucker!" he said.

Just as I was wondering--frantically--how long he could go at this furious pace, it was over. He yelled so loud--twice, three times--it must've scared the birds from the trees. For miles. And he complained to me, I thought, about moaning too loud? Something was dripping down my back. Sweat, I thought at first, and then, irrationally, semen. I finally decided it must be Matt's saliva. His uncontrollable drool.

As he left my stinging buttocks behind I could feel an inflow of cool air up my rectum seemingly seven inches deep. My hole's dilated opening must be, I thought, two inches in diameter!

Now it was Charlie's turn to fill it.

As he approached with heavy steps he called behind to his beer-swilling buddies.

"Hey, you guys done with this faggot?"

"Hell yeah."

"I am."

"Then I ain't wearin' no fucking rubber. I hate them things," he said, tossing his packet to the edge of the circle. "Carla used t'make me wear 'em. When we first started dating. Fuck it. I still got her pregnant..."

The third coarse palm of the day landed on my tender, naked flesh. He squeezed it.

"You ready to get fucked some more, little girl?"

"Yes. Yessir."

"I'm gunna bareback your sweet little girly ass. Ever been barebacked before?"

"No sir," I lied.

"I've got a three-day load and I'm gunna shoot every drop of it inside you. Cool?"

"Yessir."

Without further ado Charlie pushed into me. He was biggest of the three. Not Coke-can thick but close. He was also the stubbiest of the three: six inches max. My asshole was dilated so wide at this point, however, that size, for once, didn't matter. The thrill was in having a bare cock inside me. The thrill was in waiting for his ejaculated semen--his self-proclaimed three-day load--to shoot deep inside my tunnel of love. My tunnel of sex, at any rate.

As Charlie fucked me he said, somewhat breathlessly, "Ronnie says you like to dress. S'true?"

"Yes," I answered, between muted moans.

"Damn! Like to see that. You dress up for me sometime? Forget these other fuckers."

"S-sure," I stuttered. "Just give me your...e...mail."

"Huh?" he said, acting like he'd never heard the term before. "You dress up in...heels?"

"Sure."

"Stockings?"

"Sure."

"Damn! I love that! You wear pantyhose?"

"Love pantyhose," I managed to get out. He was fucking me so hard I could feel his belly hair scraping against my back. Felt like Brillo.

"Wig and all that? Falsies?"

"I'm trying to...grow my own."

"Grow your...what?"

"Tits. My tits."

"Grow your tits? How...big?"

"B-cup? Big enough to...but not so big...they..."

His last words of sex dialog were, I think: "My wife--"

Then he exploded. I wasn't so dilated that I couldn't feel his thick cock throbbing inside of me. Pulsing. His deafening shout filled my left ear. His whole hairy body was pressed tight against me for a moment. Then, still loudly moaning, or groaning I should say, he backed away.

Behind us, at circle's edge, I could hear one of the other two saying: "Listen at ol' Charlie. He LOVES them girly-boys."

"Oh fuck," Charlie said. "Oh god." It sounded like he was doubled over a few feet behind me.

As soon as our bodies had parted his semen had begun to ooze out of my gaping hole. Now it was running warmly down my sack and dripping from my little balls. He hadn't lied. He'd deposited a huge load.

"You done, Charlie? You OK, bro?"

"Fuck...fuck yeah." It still sounded like he was bent over, completely exhausted.

"Let's get outta here, boys. 'fore somebody hears us."

"Yeah."

I had an immediate panic attack. Were the leaving? Leaving me? Tied to this tree? Would I die here? Days later? Of thirst? Hunger? Exposure? Ant bites? The red ants crawling in trains up my shaved legs to harvest the sweet cum dripping from my ass? Would they crawl inside my ass? As if it were a tunnel? And sting me there?

"Hey!" I shouted.

"Re-fucking-lax," Ronnie said, coming up along the left side of the tree. For the second time that day he told me to "hold on tight." First he untied my ankles, then my wrists. I was free! Sort of. I endeavored, still gripping the tree tight, to slide my thighs outward off the boards but--they were asleep. I had no feeling in my legs. They were dead, useless. I'd been so caught up in the constant pump of man-meat inside me that I hadn't even been aware of it.

I tried pushing one thigh, my left, off the board with my hand, lost grip and fell over backwards in the sand, much to Ronnie's amusement.

"Some little cocksucker take a spill?"

"Fuck!" I cried.

Now Charlie's residual sperm exited me in a burst. It was leaking into the grey sand. As I tried to massage life back into my slender, shaved legs I watched Ronnie, now over to my right, stuff the nylon rope into his backpack. He hoisted it and headed for the exit, behind me.

I was hoping he would say, in parting, something like, "We'll have to do this again sometime soon. Keep in touch." But instead he warned, "Don't tell nobody about this place. This is our SPOT."

"Yes," I said, dropping the sir. Fuck, I thought. I've just given my tender ass up to you and two of your buddies, and this is all the thanks I get? Don't tell nobody? Men!

I was all alone now, at the base of the tree. As I sat there rubbing my legs it slowly began to dawn on me. Something unprecedented in my life, my sex-life that is, had just happened. I'd bottomed for three guys. Consecutively. In the space of, what, 30 minutes? 40?

I'd had a threesome once--once--but that had been mutual blowjobs and handjobs. This was, well...did three guys qualify as a gangbang? Yes, I decided it did. I'd just been gangbanged! I'd met a complete stranger in the woods, been tied to tree, and then offered my hole to a threesome of horny-as-hell, married, blue-collar guys. And to one I'd given the ultimate prize: my hole to his big bare cock. And the stream of hot jism he'd just shot deep into me. And which now was still oozing into the sand...

I looked down at my lap. My little cock was pointing straight up. It was vibrating--with each heartbeat. I grasped it in my left hand. I didn't particularly like getting hard-ons. They were inevitable but...they didn't quite jive with my self-image as a girly-boy, a crossdresser. I didn't like ejaculating either. I preferred what I call "internal orgasms." The kind I'd had earlier when the second guy was fucking me. I imagined it was pretty much what a woman experienced. The FEMALE orgasm. No erection, no violent shooting...just a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. No wonder women got a glow on after orgasmic sex. While men, well...they lost all interest. Immediately.

At first touch it was over. A foregone conclusion. I didn't try to delay it. A few strokes of my five-inch shaft and I was creaming all over my hand. My balls. My upper thighs. A mess. I immediately regretted it. Why spoil a wonderful bottom buzz with...this?

After regaining my breath, I managed to get to my feet and stagger over to my pile of clothes. The pink lace panties on top--I decided to sacrifice them to the greater good. I wiped my hand, my balls. My bottom was coated with an admixture of sand, lubricant and semen. I wiped between my crack the best I could, then tossed the panties into the woods. They caught on a twig and hung there. Oh well, I thought. A nice reminder to the guys about my presence here.

I pulled my drawstring pants--fortunately they were black--over my bare, much-used ass with the understanding that semen and lube would still be leaking through them during the drive home. Oh well. That's why they make upholstery cleaner...

My car was--another freak-out on my part--exactly where I'd left it. The beat-up old Ford pickup I'd parked next to upon arrival was long gone, to my relief. Must've been Ronnie's. At some point three rusted-out pickups had probably decorated the side-of-the-road landscape.

Charlie, I thought. He'd wanted to see me dressed. I'd never gotten his email.

When I got home I showered and changed into a fresh pair of lace panties and--as a concession to new my admirer--nude pantyhose. I sat down at my computer and emailed Ronnie:

"Thanks for inviting me to your 'spot.' Had LOTS of fun. Hope we can do it again sometime. Could you send me Charlie's email? He requested it."

As is typical, days passed before I got a response. In this case, an answer to a different question altogether:

"Hey. you still want to be fisted like we talk [sic]?"

Huh?

I was asking about gangbangs and he was talking about...?

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that brute, coarse fist pushing inside my asshole. And up my rectum. Deep. Elbow deep.

How dilated would have to be? How lubed up? How...wide?

I shuddered at the thought. I shuddered with delight.