The Fat Cock

I looked at the man, and for the most part he wasn’t very impressive. They had him tied, flat on his back on top of the table, his arms stretched over his head and tied out of the way. His feet were up, in the air, and tied to the twin two by fours that were bolted onto the legs of the table, rising into the air just high enough to hold his ankles and keep his legs spread. His legs were stretched out, wide, into that “V” and his ass was exposed and his hairy hole was open and ready. They had him pegged out the way they do it before they take the cock, and even though he was struggling hard, and would struggle harder still, there wasn’t anything he could do to stop what was going to happen.

He still had the remains of his ripped t-shirt on, but his jeans were gone now, with his underwear, and he was naked below the waist and it was almost time. He was angry, and yelling out a string of obscenities, and the crowd of us that had gathered were laughing at his desperation. He could yell all he wanted. We had brought him so deep into the valley that there wasn’t anybody that could hear him. For a city man he was a long way from the highway, and an even longer way from home, and perhaps if he had just passed on through he might even have been able to keep his cock. But he hadn’t, and now he was going to pay the price, and I, along with the rest of the crowd, were eager to see it happen.

Billy Williams, a friend of mine who was just fourteen, was holding the man’s cock, and as he stroked it up to into a full erection I was mesmerized by the size of it. The man, who I figured must be in his forties, had a massive cock, and for a boy of fifteen looking at it, it was the most impressive thing I had ever seen.

In Billy’s small hand it was thick and stiff, and it jutted up and out of his mound of thick fur like a rod of steel. The end was flared, huge, round and purple, and the single eye of his huge cock was seeping. All the time Billy was stroking it, and we were of course encouraging him to do so.

Martin Creston had the knife, and right now it was resting in the Coleman stove, the blade heating there, already glowing red, bright red, a crimson color that would be the man’s undoing. The knife always fascinated me, the way it would sear though the flesh, burning its way as well as cutting it, searing the ends of the flesh closed as it took the man’s shaft.

I had no sympathy for him. He deserved to lose his cock, and as I thought of him, without it, I wondered what it would be like. He would still chase his women, or at least think of chasing them, his balls between his legs begging for release and filling his brain with the desire. He would dream about the pussy’s he could no longer have, remember his erection and the lost feeling of pumping out his seed. He would long for that feeling, a man still in so many ways. He would see a pair of tits and want them, see a girl and feel the longing pent up need that would grow until the frustration consumed him. He would shave as he always had, feel the desire as he always had, feel the need as he always had.

Of course, that need would increase, daily, the desire within his brain so great he would do anything to satisfy it. But his missing cock would insure his frustration, and as much as he would dream of empting his balls there would be nothing he could do to make it happen. Of course he would try. He sure-as-shit would try, reaching down in his pants for his tiny little nub I knew that Mr Creston would leave him. Still, it wouldn’t do the trick. Not by a long shot it wouldn’t. No, for this man, he was about to learn what true frustration was all about, and I, with my thin prick and growing balls, would laugh thinking of him every time I did what he could not.

The boys had all been gathered, and I was eager for our role. It was a first time for me, and I smiled at Mark Tekturn, who is my age, and he smiled back, his pants tented with the anticipation we were both feeling. Joey Rivers was a senior, and had done it before, and he too was ready, and so we waited patiently for out time. It seemed a cruel way to teach a lesson, and perhaps it was, but I for one had grown up here and it was just the way it was done. It sure didn’t seem unusual and it was just one of the things the men had us do when we were boys.

The time was almost here. The man gasped, and he looked down at the boy who was moving his cock. He of course had already been told, and so he could see the knife and his cock and the boys waiting for his ass. I saw him struggle, his big thighs straining as he tried to pull his legs together. They were spread out, in that “V” shape, so perfect for what we had to do to him. His balls were round, and full of cream, and as I looked at them I wondered how many times they had been emptied in his life. Hell, an average of once a day? Twice? When did he start? Was he thirteen when it did it for his first time? Perhaps he was my age when he first jerked his dick. Hell, it had to be way over 10,000 times he had emptied them by now, flooded out his cream and felt the feeling within his cock as he squirted out his seed.

He was begging now, begging Billy to stop and begging Mr Creston not to do what was gong to be done. We were all smiling, at the man, at his erection that was growing ever eager, reaching that point where it pumped out his fluid one last time. He knew it was going to happen too, sure-as-shit he did, and even with all of his years of practice he still couldn’t control it or stop it from happening. He slammed his head back, into the table, and bucked his hips up against the straps. He jerked his legs, hard then, trying to close them, but while he was growing desperate nothing affected the boy who held his cock, pumping it, up and down and up and down, faster and faster as the boy worked the man’s fat pole.

It was almost time. We could all sense it. Finally, I saw Jimmy McCreater and he had the Ziploc bag that held the rod. I loved the rod, and it always fascinated me. Jimmy worked in town, at his dad’s auto shop, and what he had in the bag was a lifting rod. This one came out of an old 53 Buick, and it was a piece of shiny steel as thin as a pencil. Jimmy had polished it smooth, and it glistened it was so shiny. Like all engine valve rods, it was hollow, to allow a path for the engine oil. It was wicked, and every time I saw it being used on a dick I know my own dick grew hard in my pants.

The man had no idea. He saw the bag, and Jimmy, and then the rod in his hand. Billy slowed the stroking, and the man and the rest of us stared at his cock. It was pulsating to his heart beat, the end flared wide and eager, and the tiny little slit stared, open, and eager, the bead of pre-cum literally oozing from it. It was just so huge and fat and hard, and I figured it had to be ten inches long.

Jimmy eased the little rod up against the man’s slit, and then he began to push it into him. The big man screamed, and then yelled “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’ as the rod disappeared into his cock. Jimmy didn’t just shove it in. No, he worked it in, then pulled it out, then back in some more, a little deeper with each stroke of the rod. He was fucking the man’s own cock with the greased rod, in and out, working the hollow piece of steel into his being, down through the shaft and all the way to the man’s bladder.

It took a while, because Jimmy wasn’t in any hurry. Before he pushed it the last bit, he had Billy point the man’s cock down, between his legs, to that it was facing back at us. Then, with a final push, the stream of yellow fluid just pulsated out of his cock, squirted out and into the air and splashed into a puddle as he pissed the ground. The little hole in the rod was small, and so the man’s urine went farther than you would have thought it should go. It was quite a piss, and we all laughed and clapped as he urinated against his will, the yellow stream shooting out of his big boner for everyone to see.

It took a while, and I guess part of the reason is the rod’s hole isn’t that big. The other reason I suppose is he had to piss so bad. While he was taking his piss, Billy started stroking his cock again, up and down and it looked strange watching him piss at the same time as his big cock was jacked by the boy.

The man finally stopped urinating and the stream turned to a dribble. His cock though had grown ever eager, even as he was pissing, and now it was jutting and was so stiff it was hard to keep it pointed down. When Billy finally pointed it back, up towards the man’s chest, you could almost sense the man’s relief as his cock took on the more natural angle of a normal erection. Jimmy reached down and adjusted the rod...sliding it out some, so that it was out of his bladder and yet still within his cock, all the way to within a half inch of the bottom.

With that, it was time. Mr. Creston picked up his knife, out of the burner, and the blade was glowing almost white hot. The entire knife was glowing, and he brought it up, toward the man’s cock, up and visible. The man, seeing the knife, screamed, and started again thrusting against the restraints, trying to stop what was to be. He bucked his hips, and jerked hard with his thighs.

Billy was stroking in earnest then, faster and faster, stroking the man’s cock over the rod that was impaled within its length. As he masturbated the man’s cock, the rod within it was fucking it, the man’s pole moving over the steel rod inside so that it moved, in and out and in and out. He was grunting, and he gasped, and then, suddenly, you could see the feeling overtake him.

The first of his wad shot out of the little rod with such vengeance that it went straight over his head. The man was pumping it out then, in giant thick ropes of cum, shooting it out of his balls and out of his shaft as if it was a rifle. He pumped and pumped, bucking his hips as he came, grunting out his load as he shot his last wad. The man’s sperm was thick, and white, and it was laying across his stomach and onto his chest in lines of goo. One after the other he laid them down, his big balls pulsating as they emptied their load down his shaft.

Mr. Creston eased the knife into the man’s cock just behind the head, just as he started to ejaculate. You could see his expression change then, the scream loud and distinct, and yet even so he squirted and squirted up that rod and pumped his goo onto his chest.

The knife went all the way through until it hit the metal rod, and when that happened Mr. Creston rotated his wrist, so that the knife was pulled around the rod, in a circular motion, the hot blade sliding around the rod and severing his cock head in the process. Still the man squirted. I’ve never seen a man pump out such a load, jetting it out, spraying it out as he blew his wad.

Mr Creston pulled off the end of his cock then, just slid it off the rod and dropped it onto his belly. Then, using the knife a second time, he set it against the cock, half way down, and there he once again pushed in his knife and up against the rod inside. The man screamed again, feeling his cock being cut a second time, feeling the knife and the blade and the steel. With a practiced motion, Mr. Creston rotated his wrist. The big man was screaming, babbling really, screaming as he fought the restraints and bucked his hips in his desperation.

Still, his spunk seemed to shoot out even faster, the goo flying out the end of the rod, out his shortened shaft with its missing head. Mr. Creston took the flat end of his cock between his fingers and pulled, and when he did it just slid up the rod. This section he dropped next to the tip, the two pieces of the man’s cock laying side by side on his belly. The man was delirious, bucking and thrusting, jerking wildly like a lunatic. He was crazed with what was happening, screaming out in his misery, and yet powerless to do anything but to live the experience.

Finally, Mr. Creston pushed his knife into the base of the man’s shaft. Again, up and into it, against the rod, where he rotated his blade and worked it through is flesh. The man’s reaction was one of absolute panic, feeling his cock for the third time as it was cut from his body. Then, it was done. Even as his orgasm subsided, and the last of it oozed out the rod, I could see Mr. Creston pull the man’s last piece of cock up the rod and off of it. The man watched too, fascinated and horrified at the same time, his shaft no longer his, his cock gone and missing in three pieces. The hot blade had sealed each part, and so as they came off the little hollow steel each piece was still filled with blood, eager and ready for a fucking that would never come. The end was what caught my attention, as it was still flared and the tip looked moist with the remains of his semen.

Where it had been, just a minute before, stiff and eager and jutting proud and tall, now there was only a little tiny knob of a cock left. It was still thick, and round, and the end where the hot knife had done its job was flat and sealed, the flesh burned red and raw. From the center of the knob the steel rod protruded, carrying up the last remaining remnants of his ejaculation and insuring a hole was there for his urine. Jimmy grabbed his lifting rod, and then with a jerk he pulled it out, and the little hole that remained looked like a tiny dimple in the middle of the flattened stub. A bead of spent semen oozed out of it.

The man grunted, jerked his hips and then thrust the air with his cock-less groin, his pubic hair now completely covering the nub where his once proud cock had been. On his belly the pieces of his cock rode up and down, resting in the pool of semen that only minutes before had traveled down its length.

Jimmy picked up the man’s pieces of his cock, and dropped them and the rod back in the Ziploc bag. Then, he nodded to us with a grin and a wink. Then, in a group of eager teenagers, we filed forward to do our part.

The man was breathing in and out, gasping for air as he bucked the table and continued to fight his restraints. Joey was first, and he pulled his jeans down and his prick literally jumped out, eager and ready. Everyone clapped. Joey squirted grease on his rod, and then he moved it with his hand until it was against the man’s open hole. The man stared at the teenager, his eyes wide with fear, and then he just grunted as he felt the boy push his rod past his ring of flesh and into his waiting hole.

Joey seemed crazed with lust, and pumped into him, pushing his teenage cock deep into the man, into his ass and burying himself to his balls. You could hear them slapping up against the man’s own sac, slap slap slap, the teenager fucking him like a dog fucks a bitch in heat. The boy’s hips moved with speed, and his cock flew in and out of the man’s hole. It didn’t take long, and Joey arched his back and looked to the sky, and then, suddenly, he was grunting out his load and filling up the man’s bowels. Finally he was done, and as he popped out you could see the remains of his teenage cream dribbling out of the man’s anus.

Mark Tekturn was next, and he whipped down his jeans with an eagerness that only a teenager can understand. He too greased up his pole, and then with a single thrust he shoved himself into the hole, the man’s legs tied out wide and apart and making him look as if he was eager for it to happen. The man’s cock-less balls were bouncing, and his cream soaked belly seemed to emphasize what he had lost.

He didn’t fight it this time, but just rode with the teenager inside him, feeling Marks cock stiff and eager, slamming up into his prostate and bringing him almost, but not quite to a cock-less climax. In and out Mark pushed, his boyhood buried to his balls, the feeling crawling through him and in him. The boy jutted, and his balls tightened. Then, he too, was grunting, firing out his own load and squirting his seed into the man’s ass. He screamed “I’m CUMMINGGG!” and we all cheered as he did so, all but the man whose ass was being filled with the cream from the teenager.

Billy was next, and he shot his wad as soon as he entered. It was a single movement, just the eagerness of being a teenager too much for him. He slid inside and screamed, and then his eyes flew open and he pumped out his wad, adding it to the others. We laughed at how fast he came, and we would kid him for a while afterwards.

Finally, it was my turn. I was nervous as hell, but eager too, and so as I pulled down my jeans and lowered my shorts, my own prick bounced out and up and eager. I could see the man staring at it, at my thin, teenage prick, and even though it was nothing to what it had been, it was far more of a prick now that he would ever have again. I could see him staring at it, longing for it even. I pushed it up, to his hole, and for the first time in my life my cock felt something besides my hand.

I eased forward, with some encouragement from my friends, and then with a push I slid into him, all the way in, feeling the remnants of my friends loads still filling his bowels. I pumped into him then, and I could feel the semen load’s of Billy and Mark and Joey as they batched my cock and lubricated it. I moved my hips in and out and pumped into him, rocking my hips and fucking my virgin cock with an eagerness that is hard to describe.

The man stared at me. I could sense him looking at me, at my youthfulness perhaps. He was looking at my smooth chest and my tight nipples. I could see his eyes follow down my chest, across my flat stomach and resting to where I had entered him. My mound of pubic hair was small and sparse, at least compared to his. But it was still growing and showing promise and I didn’t feel inferior to him. Still, I could sense him staring at me, and at my pubic mound and down to where my thin teenage cock was buried within him. I could feel his ass tighten, and his muscles grip my shaft. I knew he could feel my cock, feel my hard pole and my rod as I penetrated into him. His mouth was open, gasping as I fucked him, pumping my hard rod in and out and inside of him. After a while I didn’t think about him, but instead just fucked him, feeling the feeling within my cock and not even thinking of the cock-less man I was fucking.

God it felt so good! His ass was tight, and as I pumped my cock through my friends cream I felt like I was in paradise. In and out I pumped it, deep and hard, and then faster and faster as I felt the feeling. My cock was hard, rock hard, stiff and eager and ready and with my buddies semen lubricating his hole it was the most fantastic feeling I’ve ever had. Then, almost when it was too much, I grunted and I felt my teenage cock spasm, and then the feelings just flooded from the tip and down the shaft and after that my own load of semen was joining my friends. I screamed it felt so good, and everyone laughed, everyone except for the man whose ass I was filling.

Then, for whatever reason, I just popped it out and laid it across his belly...my shaft lying right on his stomach as I continued blowing my wad. I guess I wanted him to see my cock, to watch it squirt and to wish it was his. He looked at it, watched it with envy, saw the lines of my cream jetting out across his stomach, mixing with his last load.

For him, watching my release, the feeling of seeing my ecstasy and watching my cock pump out my goo, was more than he could take. I reached down, to where his prick had been, and took my hand as if I was grabbing the air. I pumped my fist, as if I was jacking his cock, and as I moved my hand through the empty air emphasizing what he was missing, the tears welled up within him. He began to sob as he watched and wished. As I did that, jacked the air with my fist above his nub my own thin prick squirted out the last of my cherry load doing what he could not. I laughed along with my friends, and then I pulled off of him to begin my life of sex and fun. As I did so I left him to the others and to his own life of frustration.

[Authors note: © Copyright October, 2002. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author.]