Twelve Sexual Men Pt. 03

***** 3 ****

He is taken by surprise. Suddenly the dark room is filled with laughing naked men. He is pinned to the floor with his chest down and his arms and legs spread out as if restrained on a torturer's wheel. He feels four hands on each limb and quickly calculates that eight strong men with sixteen five fingered tentacles are holding him in place. Then a large bare foot slides on his neck forcing his head down on the carpet. His face is smushed between the floor and the foot. His cheeks are pinched together like when an elderly aunt welcomes him to some family holiday party. But unlike the rude but good-natured auntie pinching his flesh, the foot is not removed and he feels no familial love. There is only the laughter, the dark shadows of naked skin, the smell of male sweat, and the realization that he has lost control.

"So, you like to play with your vegetables?" a low growl in a light European accent whispered in his ear. "I saw the video of course. We all did, didn't we guys?" A loud murmuring of ascent bubbles in the background. "Well, we appreciate the effort but you won't get big and strong if you keep spitting them out like you did that cucumber. You have to swallow! Open your throat - and - let it in."

Ari felt the weight of another man sitting on his back. The man's knees tucked up under his armpits as he squatted. A squishy sack and limp dick tickled the space between his shoulder blades confirming the gender. The foot gave up some of its pressure and Ari heaved in a deep breath but it was only temporary. Two hands found his open mouth and abruptly spread his jaws apart while the man with the foot held a thick cucumber cut in half in front of Ari's wide eyes. A moment later the half of the green veggie was inserted in his mouth and now the hands shut Ari's jaws closed while another sealed the lips with duct tape and then added another two layers of tape for good measure.

Ari's eyes blinked, went wide and they teared up. The object didn't cut off the air completely but it was close and he felt like he was slowly drowning. His air intake through his nose came in long slow slurps. He felt like he was breathing through a straw and that the air was a thick milkshake barely making it through his nasal passage, down his windpipe, and into his lungs.

The foot was removed and Ari looked around the dark room. He noticed chairs toppled on their side, the result of an epic struggle, and the orange and yellow 70's shag carpeting. "This is not how I pictured it," he thought to himself. "This can't be happening."

As if reading his mind the same accented voice said, "Oh, the fun is just starting boyo."

A long black rubber tube at least 30 inches long and 2 inches wide plopped on the neon orange carpeting in front of Ari. It slithered in a long arc. One end was tapered into a dick head and Ari realized it was the largest dildo he had ever seen. Ari could tell that it been prepared. It had been made slick and slippery.

He groaned and fought wildly against the large hands holding him down. Two captors were surprised at the sudden struggle and they lost their grip. Ari sensed an opportunity and intensified his struggles. His lungs began to burn as the limited oxygen got used up. He exhaled and mucus joined the carbon dioxide ejected from his nostrils. He breathed in as he jerked. Another set of hands slipped and his right arm was free. "If only I can . . " he thought but was quickly interrupted as his tormentors regained their control and pressed down with renewed strength. It felt like his arms and legs were being crushed into the very fiber of the hippie carpet.

"Heh, heh," came the mysterious voice. "You didn't show this much fight on the video, boyo." He laughed and addressed Ari by his new pet name. "You seemed to enjoy it quite a bit in fact. That video got quite a few of us aroused. Aroused and curious," he offered and then paused. "It got me thinking, though, how far would you go? Or rather how far would you let something - something long and unnatural - crawl up inside of you?" he gave a small chuckle. "I've heard that some bottoms can't get enough. A man's dick can't be long enough for them. They crave a cock to wind inside their intestines like a snake; going deeper and deeper and deeper." He paused again then Ari felt his breath on his ear as he leaned in. "Are you that kind of bottom?" he whispered and waited. "Hmm, I suppose you wouldn't know, being new to this and all. But I think you do know? I think you've been considering this question for quite some time; you've been ruminating about various sex acts and perversions. You've calculated how far you would be willing to go, haven't you boy? At least I think you have an educated guess - a theory?"

Ari moved his head in an effort to see this mystery person, to look at him in the eyes and plead with him. He struggled back and forth in a quick chaotic motion.

"Well, theories can be tested, can't they?" the foreigner loudly proclaimed. He shifted and no longer breathed in Ari's ear. He was somewhere above Ari. Then a dark skinned hand plucked the black snake from the ground next to Ari's flushed cheeks. Ari noticed a wet mark on the carpet created by the dildo's liberal coating of lubricant. Excess translucent goo, shaken from the object in its short journey, splattered on Ari's cheek and shoulders the small of his back before he felt the cool tip rest on his asshole. Ari clenched his eyes sensing the inevitable.

The assault began. His gate was pierced but it was not as painful as he expected. Ari knew the feeling of this pressure. He had felt it in the privacy of his bedroom, and the man working the rubbery snake into Ari's body was slow and patient. Half an inch and the snake is withdrawn. Another little bit inside and it is withdrawn. Ari remembered to push slightly against the object, to relax and open his sphincter. He imagined his pink rosebud widening and in the third attempt, it popped past his tight barrier. The silky smooth surface slid more easily. Ari relaxed as the object worked in and out. The eight sets of hands, holding him down tightly and with force, began to relax. They sensed that the man is giving himself over to the silicon tubing. A few loosen their grip entirely to caress, tickle and massage their victim's rubbery skin.

A wet and cold set of fingers toy with his pink cock that is pressed down between his thighs on the carpet. Its semi-flaccid state came to life and rubs painfully against the harsh nylon fibers as it expands. Once fully engorged it twitches in delight as the slippery fingers tease the underside of the head. Meanwhile, seven inches of the black slug slips in and out and in and out. Now Ari feels the fingers become a hand and it pumps Ari's rigid member in slow luxurious motion that matches the rhythm of the artificial cock filling his artificial pussy. Ari lets out a slow conflicted moan. It feels so good. The two manipulations serve to escort Ari to the edge of a cliff. He feels he is about to fall over. But where is the real cock he has been begging for in the videos? Where are the lips and tongue of real men? This is all too familiar. It's been done. He's done it. He has filled himself with prosthetics, fakery, and lies. That is not what he desires. "Stop, please, stop," he says but the words don't make it past the vegetable stuffed in his mouth. Fingers and slug continue working together and he moans. He sees the dark ocean below. He waits to fall.

"Ahh, good, good," the European voice returns as the handjob slows to a more seductive pace. "So far we can verify that you are a good bottom. You enjoy this don't you?"

Ari doesn't even think of answering. He feels he is about to become airborne and fly over the cliff. Then a foot lands on his neck and the pumping stops.

"Are you enjoying this, boyo?"

Ari grunts his agreement.

"Good bottom. But now let's see if you are as depraved as I think you are."

The slippery digits abandon Ari's cock head and it flaps against the shag carpet. The sixteen hands re-establish their hold. And the black rod presses forward. It goes deeper but it meets an invisible wall. Ari feels the pressure and moves his hips up to relieve the stress. But the snake is relentless. It twists in his rectum and tries again. Then it twists and is turned gently to find a new angle and is pushed forward. This time, it seems to pass the barrier and suddenly he feels several more inches quickly slide inside his gut.

Ari sweats and writhes. The black snake goes deeper. Ari has no idea how much he has taken inside himself but imagines a good 12 maybe 18 inches. Then it goes deeper and another barrier is met. The snake twists and turns again and now Ari feels a dull pain and his fear takes hold. He struggles but it sends throbbing spasms through his abdomen. The snake clears the next barrier and suddenly Ari feels the object in his stomach, pressing his belly button against the carpet. It's inside him. It's living and squirming around his belly.

"Ahh, that's fine. That's a good slut, boyo," the foreign voice says encouragingly while the others in the room provide a light background of laughter. The man operating the black snake begins to slowly rotate his tool while withdrawing and pushing forward and withdrawing and pushing the flexible rubber in and out of Ari's rectum. The man finds a spot that puts pressure on Ari's prostrate and suddenly Ari moans again through the duct tape.

"Huh," the foreigner says. "I think I see some precum oozing from your cock, boyo. Is that precum? Ari, are you about to e-jac-u-late?" he says with satirical clinical precision.

Ari spews incoherence between his moan of pleasure and his sobbing cry.

"Guys, what do you think?" the torturer asks the group. His voice sounds like it's fading; as if he is talking in a tunnel.

"Honey, honey," a definite female voice fills Ari's brain. He senses a hand hard on his shoulder but not holding him down. It's shaking him. Shaking him awake. "Honey - Ari - you OK?"

Ari opens his eyes. It's dark. It's the middle of the night. It's his bedroom. It's his cheek pressed against his pillow. It's his sweat on his skin. It's his wife in his ear.

"You OK?" the voice comes again and Ari flips onto his back to face his wife.

"Holy shit," he whispers as he blinks his eyes into focus. "Yeah, yeah, honey, I'm OK," he says, "just a bad dream I guess." Ari turns over on his back in an attempt to end the dreamlike feeling of tough nylon fibers pressed on his chest and the heavy foot pressing on his neck.

Yvonne snuggles up to him on her side. "Bad - or good?" Yvonne asks with a wink. Ari is confused by the question Yvonne rubs her thigh against Ari's leg. The smooth female muscle glides up to Ari's crotch and taps Ari's dick, now fully and enthusiastically engorged. "Based on your cock I'm guessing it was a good dream," Yvonne says and Ari realizes Yvonne just discovered that the dildo rape dream gave him a raging erection. He blushes wondering if she knows the details. "Don't wives always know?" he thought.

Her hand glides down to his member and caresses it with loving strokes. If she knows something she doesn't care seem to care.

"You know Ari, I have to leave again tomorrow," she whispers, "and maybe - well now that you woke us both up - maybe we should relieve some tension to tide us over while I'm gone on my trip."

Her fingers feel soft and comforting and Ari gladly agrees.

Eighteen minutes later, after Ari has worked fingers lips and tongue on his wife's breasts, clit and puffy vaginal lips, he has her leaning over an emotional edge and lying face down on their marriage bed. Her arms and legs reach out to each corner of the King sized mattress. She is not restrained as Ari was in his dream but for a moment he imagines large hands holding her down. She is naked except for the oversized tee-shirt she uses as a nightgown now gathered up around her chest exposing her legs, wide ass and the small of her back.

He takes the pulsing head of his cock and presses it down to her prepared opening. Her secretions are transferred to his dick and she moans in anticipation. He lingers, however. He teases her hot moist lips with his cock with patient sensual strokes. She wiggles her hips impatiently. He takes his now well-lubed shaft and moves it up between her ass cheeks. It slips over the hump of her ass to tickle the small of her back and as he withdraws he notices the glistening trail of slippery liquid collecting between the crack of her ass. He pauses at Yvonne's puckered hole. He considers it for a moment as the purple head rests at the matching purple sphincter. He looks to see if Yvonne reacts but she doesn't. She could go either way and he slides his cock one more time up and over the puckered hole. Yvonne wiggles her ass in appreciation. Ari notices her outstretched hands grip the sheets in anticipation for some pressure, some forced entry, but he is still not sure which entrance she would prefer.

He teases the head at one of her openings. He teases some more.

"God damn it, Ari," Yvonne says in good-natured annoyance, "Fuck me already."

He slides it in two inches then withdraws to the sound of her mild gasp. He pushes in again and withdraws again. After a third time, Yvonne pushes her hips back to capture more of the hard shaft. but he controls himself and pulls away. She pushes back again and lets out an exasperated 'ungh'.

"Deeper, damn it," she urges. "Umm - I want to - to feel you - deep - deep inside." Her words came out in small drips.

Ari finally obliges and thrusts forward. She gives out a loud fulfilling moan. A minute of hard fucking later she is spewing out a string of indistinguishable groans and curse words. Ari shifts again to tease her opening in slow circles and in three more minutes her ass and legs are shaking. The muscle and fat that fills out her jeans like two plump honeydews wiggle unconstrained with excitement. She screams, "Oh, gawwd, oh fucking gawwd," and she clenches her legs together in an effort to feel every throbbing vein of his cock along the entire surface of her silken envelope. Ari grabs her hips and places more of his weight on the woman in an effort to hang on and stay sheathed inside of her. Her body trembles against his and she yells out more profanities.

Just as she subsides, he begins his final assault. He jams in and out of her with relentless and angry thrusts. She appreciates the hard fuck and slides a hand down to her crotch. A moment later Ari fills her opening. He pumps long strands of white semen into her. His scream is an echo to the one she just let loose.

"Well, boyo," Yvonne exhales a satisfied breath to her husband once they have stopped their shaking and are nestling in each other's arms, "that was one helluva nightmare you had." Her Norwegian accent is barely noticeable as twenty years of living in the US has smothered most of her European habits and cultural accouterments. "You should have those dreams more often." She tickles his half deflated and still slippery cock with a lazy set of cold and wet fingers.

"Be careful what you wish for," Ari says to himself but manages a whispery, "I'll work on that," for her benefit. He wonders if she would object to him sliding down to her crotch and licking his cum from her hole but before he has the courage to ask he feels her lungs fill and release in a series of slow deep breaths. Sleep has entangled her.

He settles in to enjoy the quiet bliss of sexual conquest as his fatigue sets in. But his fantastical nightmare won't let him go and he contemplates its meaning. His plan is contingent on men behaving kindly and he regretfully accepts the fact that there are a lot of crazies in this world and therefore he is putting himself at some rather significant risk by pursuing such a grand coming out.

That realization would make most sane men give up on such a half-baked plan. They would run from it. They would see it for what it is: the work of someone stoked with so much repressed sexual tension that it fuels dangerous and unrealistic fantasies that lead to folly. Ari concludes rightfully that there are a lot of crazies in the world, and Ari would be one of those crazies if he pursued this gangbang coming out party with complete strangers. It was, simply, the definition of stupid. And so Ari drifts to sleep vowing to scale back his plan; to return to a simpler introduction to the altar of male cock. 'Just one man,' he tells himself. 'Be reasonable, one man is enough.'

Ari wakes up. He is alone in their bed, Yvonne having left early for her flight. He lifts the sheets and looks down at his crotch. His spear is limp and lifeless. But smeared on his thigh is the unmistakable clear residue of male spunk. It mattes down the dark hair on his thigh. He raises his brow at the sight. It had been more than a decade since a nocturnal event visited his cock. He reaches down and his index finger plays with the moist and sticky cum to confirm it as genuine. He raises the finger to his lips.

He closes his eyes and recalls the dream that continued where it left off after he satisfied his wife. He can practically feel the snake writhing inside him as the men fucked his mouth. Then they fucked his ass with the same anger and ferocity as he yielded upon Yvonne less than seven hours earlier. They covered him in cum until he looked like a shiny plastic doll; a naked GI Joe preserved in sperm and leaking white juice from every orifice.

He sucks on his finger and rolls his tongue over the protrusion. The fantasy of men - not one or two or five - but many men - has taken root in his mind. The vines have choked off his good sense and logic. He sucks harder and squirms at the thought of being utterly and completely used.

"I'll need some type of security - and a way to screen the guys," he says to himself as the finger plops out of his mouth. Deep down Ari has determined that one cock is not enough. A temple made of straw and observed by one priest is unworthy of his long, long pilgrimage to Mecca. Ari can't escape the vision of a grand stage made of polished stone and gold. It requires not one or two but an entire tribe of holy men to consecrate his quiet, latent but devout worship of the hard shaft, cum-filled balls, and the soft but explosive tip. His epic coming out party is back on. Ari's slow dance with reason is dead.