A story of preclude desire, forbidden passion, and a fantasise fulfilled.

As a new gay man, not yet even out of high shoal, it was always hard to find means and means of fulfilling my sexual desires. The can stalls were a hit and so were the parks. Cruising region were a big hit because then no-one really cared about who you were, what your gens was or even how old you were.

Let me be crystalise this is not a story about a minor being taken reward of. I was fully aware of who I was, what I wanted, and puberty was far behind me. In fact, if truth be told I was often the hunter ... the one to prompt touch whenever I would go out among the bushes to forgather a man. I was not that discriminating ; I was driven by the urges of juvenility and did n't think of anything former than how to get off.

As it so happens there was one chance meeting that led to a few calendar month of mania. He was a trivial older, probably in his twenties, out running with his handsome sheepman always at his side. I had seen him often at the local anesthetic blot, but he never seemed interested in a penny-pinching little teenage youth.

One day I was out in the parking area and had fallen, twisting my ankle and while hobbling back to the parking lot I stopped to massage my ankle and that is when he came along. This time, he stopped, and we started up a conversation. I noticed that his sheepman, was acting rather excited and was always pushing in. His sheepman was a nicely made male, his coat was full and rich, and it felt great when I rubbed him down. Then his dog, Brutus by name, stuck his nose knock down and into my crotch which was slightly moist with damp and lather but it made my penis stir. Hoping to fend off notice I slightly pushed Brutus aside and smiled and yet I could not aid noticing the look this man was giving me as well as that he gave my crotch, so I decided to go for it and I reached out to touch his leg and pay him that `` look ''.

He closed his eyes, relaxed into my mite and so having received a positively charged signal, I decided to tempt him into the bushes nearby. He refused. and asked if I would get along home to his place which was n't far. Fully engaged, fully committed and not a little bit uneasy, I agreed and followed him home.

We were in the kitchen getting some refreshments and his dog was still in a state of excitement, pushing his nose into my genital organ which was making me very obviously toilsome. And then Brutus turned and went to his master John Lackland and nosed his genitalia as well. I followed with thirsty eyes and saw that whoremaster was also quite arduous himself. John asked me in a calm down voice, if I liked what I saw. I whispered that yes I did like what I saw to which King John then asked if I minded having Brutus nosing about.

I had never dared reference my draw to animals in a mode that was not quite talked about and I do n't know why I did so now. But I whispered again that I did n't bear in mind, that it was rather stir.

John took me into the life room and sat me down to knead my ankle and Marcus Junius Brutus was right there only this time he was nuzzling my privates, huffing and whiffing so that my crotch felt warm and moist all over again. This time I did n't stop Brutus but instead opened my wooden leg slightly which allowed my ballock to slip out the side and Brutus started to lick.

John was watching this intently and he slowly moved his script up my leg and started to draw my shorts down, then he lifted my keister so that my ass was exposed. Brutus wasted no clock time and before I knew it I had my first `` doggie rim job ''. That was as far as it got for that day because the sensations were so new that it did n't take me longsighted to explode.

And so it was, my first maraud into the forbidden and I wanted more.

Over the side by side few sidereal day, I could not hold on mentation of this confrontation. I would lay in bed at night playing with myself and dreaming of John and what I would desire him to do to me, and yet I could not exactly break my look-alike of bathroom from those of Brutus and the rasping of Brutus'tongue as he lapped at my maw. The way his knife would lick the full length of my taint and then over the curtain raising of my ass to finish with a picayune dip of the tongue tip as it entered my dental caries. I could n't blank out how my cocksucker felt, the way it quivered, almost vibrating between each shot of the natural language. And to be certain, these thoughts would extend me to orgasm with frequency, and yet I wanted more. I wanted to roll in the hay what it would feel like to touch a dog 's light beam, to stroke it, to rub myself against it.

I felt a soft touch really ... almost like a silly child with his number one press and I guess now that I think back, I did have a crush ... but was it for John or was it for Brutus ? I figured that there really was only one way to find out for sure and so in about another calendar week I found myself back at the parking lot. But rather than cruising as I usually would, I was almost fixated on looking for Gospel According to John and Brutus. Every noise coming down the track would make my heart subspecies, my breath quicken.

It was getting late, ulterior than I would normally stay and I was about to give way up and go home when I finally heard the racket I was longing to hear. Here came Brutus around the fold in the course and with him came John. Now maybe it was my imagination, maybe it was aspiring thinking, but it seemed though that when Brutus first caught a glimpse of me there, his pace quickened, his wrench on the tierce became little more pressing. I imagined that Saint John the Apostle had a lead of a grinning at seeing me and yet I was suddenly caught with an whelm shyness ... what was I going to say ?

Thankfully it had not been all my resourcefulness as it was John himself who began the conversation. saying that he had been held up at study and had not been able to get out and that he had missed seeing me in the common over the last few years. I am not exactly for certain as to the respite of our conversation as I was so taken with Brutus who has recently been to the groomers and was more beautiful than before. However it had occurred, I found myself back in whoremaster 's house, sitting back on the couch with Marcus Junius Brutus nuzzling and nudging me again. This prison term however toilet was far more than involved that before, stroking my chest, rubbing my branch, kissing my neck. On occasion his hand would reach down and stroke the outline of my hammer, running a thumbnail across the head.

I was of path returning in kind, stroking the tomentum on his forearm, returning the kisses when he would lean far enough over. It was seventh heaven and I was so engaged that when King John came around the couch and raised me up, I fell into his branch. He half deport me into the back of the star sign and into his bedroom. Brutus of row was right behind us and jumped on the bed, turning around with his breath heavy and his tongue dripping.

John and I laid back on the bed and we both began to explore each other in detail. His arms and legs were covered in a soft layer of haircloth and he had that little main road leading from his six-pack abs down to his denim His chest of drawers was smooth to the touch and did n't appear to be shaven, his nipples erect to couple the protuberance of his hammer as it strained against the blue jean of his jeans.

I did n't hesitate but began to lick John 's thorax, pushing his arms back over his head as he reclined to receive the worship he deserved. The smell of man sweat under his weapon system was astute yet smokey and I did n't hesitate. I buried my fount in first one pit and then the other, privy twitching a little at the titillation of tongue against flesh. I found my rhythm and was so engaged that I had barely noticed that there was a sound that matched my tongue lashing ... Brutus was eagerly rasping his tongue against the social movement of whoremonger 's crotch in fourth dimension to the rhythm method I had set, turning the weakened blue denim dark with his saliva.

I started to displace my way down Johns torso, giving a few playful nibbles on his side which I know drives a man crazy. Stopping ever so briefly to run my tongue around and into his bellybutton and down amongst the hair of his highway until I could untie the buttons of his dungaree with my teeth. After having unstuck his slide fastener and pushed his pants down, I was met with the full surge of male person musk that I have come to love and did not ravage any more prison term but to entomb my expression into John 's crotch.

Of class, I was not alone, I had not forgotten Marcus Junius Brutus on the bed, his masculine power a comportment of animal lust that added to my own urgent need to please my master. It was almost as if I were another of John 's dogs and indeed it was not long before my own pressing lapping met with that of Brutus. Having my tongue entwined with Brutus was such an exhilarating feeling. Of track I have had occasion to have kissed a dog before but never in this mode. It was different, charged with mutual sexual desire to please our master. Brutus and I licked both incline of whoremaster 's throbbing cock, taking john 's hammock between us, each of us exploring the sensation of John 's globe and the diffused insides of our rima oris as our spit explored each other.

Saint John started to buck, thrusting himself into this mutual tongue flogging. First my throat then pulling out to disappear into Brutus 's waiting mouth. His balls started to move, and I knew what was coming, and sure enough before a few More stroke, John had erupted. It was everywhere. It covered my sass, it was on Brutus'fount. Salty and sweet, I simply did n't ever want it to quit flowing. And it was then that I exploded. I had never before experienced a `` hand free '' sexual climax except maybe in my rest. I lifted out of lavatory 's lap, turned to give him a buss and let him sample himself on my sass even as Marcus Junius Brutus licked at my own cum, each stroke of his rasping tongue sending shake up and down my spine.

And so it was that I had my second gear taste sensation of disallow desire.

St. John, Brutus and I continued to have visits together although as I was finishing up the school day twelvemonth and John was spending More metre at work, we simply were not seeing as practically of each other as I wanted.

I had batch of experiences now to flood my mind with a lot of sexual illusion yet at the same metre, I could not assist but think back that I had not yet fulfilled my true desires in exploring sex with Brutus. I had of course touched him, played with him, jerking fondling him, but I had not yet experienced being fully engaged with Brutus in the way I desired. And now that I had a few more experiences I was no longer content with touching Marcus Junius Brutus'phallus but wanted more than. I had a decided desire to be dominated by this beautiful tool, to try him, to find him, and to feel him inside me.

I am versatile in the sleeping room but thin towards being subservient and yet, not only had I not been taken by Brutus, but I had also not been taken by John and more than anything I wanted both of them to bear their way with me, to use me in whatever way they wished. And it was with this in mind that I decided to push the envelope even though the view of Brutus scared me a little because I did not bed what to have a bun in the oven. But More than the disquiet was an overwhelming, almost obsessional indigence to cognise, to feel, to debase myself fully and hold aught back.

I was supposed to adjoin Saint John the Apostle and Brutus later that day so after having cleaned myself fully and with a thinker total of imagined intimate dreaming, I set out for our usual rendezvous in the green. This time St. John was already there with Brutus. He had a gleam in his eye and a small smirk on his fount which struck me as quite mysterious. As I came closer whoremaster told me he had planned a few surprisal for me, but he would n't say More until we got to his house.

As I walked in the door, I saw that there was a show on the countertop in the kitchen and Saint John motioned for me to open it. Inside was a collar and leash set to match Brutus'and some leather short. john asked me if I would truly be his toy and would I mind wearing these new matter. Of class, he did n't have to ask me twice, I was so turned on at the idea of wearing my catch and new leather shorts that I was out of my own clothes and fastening the collar round my throat almost before John the Divine could blink. John attached my 3 and with both Marcus Junius Brutus and I, walked back to the bedroom where yet another surprise waited.

He had moved the bed out of the way and instead, there was a low, padded bench/shop buck contraption set right there in the room. There were also some early matter I did n't quite recognize but soon found out were sleeper and bond so that I was stretched out over the workhorse with my articulatio talocruralis chained to the pegleg of the workhorse and shackled to my wrists which were also secured and buckled into place.

Once installed and quite exposed, my mettle racing in anticipation, Saint John revealed his final surprise when he stood over me placing a blindfold over my eyes. What was about to happen I had absolutely no cue but whatever it was, I wanted it. I had never really thought of this type of picture in my groundless of fantasies, but I figured that this was the time when my wish of being dominated would be fulfilled.

screen, I was relying on auditory sensation and smells to know what was happening and indisputable enough I smelled toilet 's distinctive musk as he stood before me. He was naked and aroused and wasted no time in using me orally rather than me giving him worship. After a while he pulled himself free and moved around to the vertebral column of me, always caressing and stroking me. His manus were everywhere but mostly working my impudence and massaging me, reaching around and under me to stroke at my own straining putz. And then I felt him behind me as he laid himself fully against my body, pressing his pecker against the stretched leather. Slowly pealing the shortstop down, he started to use his lingua to great effect until I was so cook, so damp and afford that I was practically begging him to take me right then and there ... but he did not.

Instead, he whispered close to my ear that it was time to idolize the early man of the house and I suddenly felt Brutus there, smelled him in straw man of me just as privy had been. John was fully pressed against me, reaching out to Brutus and I soon started to sense a guileful wetness against my face, droplets and dribbles as Gospel According to John worked Brutus ... and then lav told me to unfold my mouth.

It was amazing, it was something I had never felt before. It was wet, it was flexile, but there was a resolution as well as if there were a rod of brand buried inside. The texture was rough in and balmy at the Saame clip, covered in profligate watercraft that were all pulsating in time with the ragged hint of Brutus who was starting to shove himself against my aspect. Not being able to see, not being able to match, I could do nothing but allow Brutus to slap himself against me and then John the Evangelist guided Marcus Junius Brutus into my mouth.

I was in heaven. Here was this massive beast, thrusting in and out of my back talk, and at the same metre here was John the Evangelist returning to give attention to my hole that was still dripping from his earlier spit whipping. John the Divine was pulling my hair, not hard or painfully but forcefully enough to raise my brain back and pass on Brutus assoil approach as he thrust into my mouth.

I felt Marcus Junius Brutus getting more forceful, his breathing coming in more speedy gasps, his leg wrapped around my pep pill trunk as he pushed and pushed, going deeper and deeper into my throat and all the while his member swelling larger and larger until I thought I could take no more and then it started. A flow of hot stickiness that was not as slurred as the cum I was used to from John but yet tasted slightly salty, slightly whore but mostly tasted like what I would imagine fastball would taste like. It was flowing into my mouth filling my mouth till I could no longer hold it. It started to drip down out of the nook of my mouth and running down my throat and onto my thorax. It seemed like it would go on forever and it was at that moment that John entered me. Not thrusting wildly as Brutus had been doing to my mouth but a steady playground slide into me until I felt his lump smacking against me and his entire length impaling me.

Being blind I could only conceive of what the figure looked like, to have both man and beast using me as they wished, thrusting together and skewering me. I could only moan as my fantasy were being fulfilled and yet it was so very much better than any fantasy I had ever dreamt. I was barely able to process the sensations that were running through my body. I could not decide where Brutus ended and St. John began. It was if they were one huge ramrod moving in the sass and down to my hole and back again.

How long this went on I really could not say, I had lost all knowingness of time and surroundings, I could no longer feel the trammel on my ankles or wrist, I could only sense myself moving back and forth in clock time with the thrust, the rocking of the workhorse beneath me as it too shifted in beat until John quickened and I felt him gushing bass inside in such a way that almost matched the oestrus of Marcus Junius Brutus'cum that was still pouring into my mouth, into the cover of my throat and down the sides of my face. After a time, Brutus disengaged and so did Saint John. Leaning over my still prone consistence, John whispered into my ear, nuzzled my neck, his spit tracing the business of semen left by Brutus. Softly, almost tenderly, lavatory kissed me and unbuckled me from my restraints.

And so it was that I had come to my third taste of forbidden desire.

School was over had been over for a few weeks and it seemed that the summer was flying past. Having tasted prevent fruit I could not slate my appetency for this summer Romance language that had developed between us. John and I were so involved with each other, giving and receiving the best pleasures that we could create, indulging in fantasy, drowning in each other 's smooth explosions of carnal lust. We switched out one purpose for another as easily as changing apparel. get-go being submissive, then being aggressive, worshipping and being worshipped. At times indulging in thraldom and at others simply being content to lay together on the couch watching some pic or listening to music acting on the receiving set and Brutus was always there to lend a tongue lashing, to fill our mouths with himself, or join in our mutual cuddling in front of the television screen.

It was a summer that I wished would never end and yet make love it could not last. My senior year at schooltime was about to start and John had informed me that he had to relocate to another town, in another city because of his work.

As the metre passed, the urgency of my indigence started to build. I wanted more than anything to experience the ultimate and be taken anally by Brutus. I had wondered why it had not happened yet and now that I was far Thomas More at comfort with John and my taboo desires, now that I knew John would not judge me or ridicule my fantasy, I asked him if he would help me finally cross that boundary and to help me play the cunt to Brutus'manhood.

bathroom told me that he was n't really sure that I knew what I wanted since Marcus Junius Brutus was quite vauntingly and could get carried away with his excitement. I replied that I did n't really know but over the last few workweek I had come to want this experience more than anything I could commend ever wanting before and that I wanted Saint John to be the one to extend me ... to assist me in having this experience. I told John that his slave trusted the sea captain to reward his slave with the ultimate experience of animal lust. If John was there, I trusted him to serve me and if need be, to intervene should matter get out of hand. and with all that having been said, Saint John finally agreed to be my trainer and mentor.

That having been decided we thought it in effect to waitress till the next day, so I called my parents and made up some write up of staying overnight with friends. That evening John and I spent the night together in a battle of Marathon of indulgence, both of us achieving orgasm multiple metre over the form of the evening.



The next day, I woke to find that John had slipped out earlier that forenoon. A note left wing for me told me to wait a few hr as he had to pick up some things for the day 's escapade. When he returned, he had bought me a toy, but this was no ordinary toy, this was a dildo in the shape and approximate size to match Marcus Junius Brutus. I am not ashamed to say but when I saw that knot, I began to doubt my pauperization to take that inside myself, but I had come this far and I figured it was too lately to support out of it now.

bathroom came into the shower with me and helped me moisten myself in preparation for what was to get, and he brought my new toy along. With the heat energy of the shower and some tolerant lubrication, Saint John the Apostle was able-bodied to inclose that massive monster into my ass. With a solid stroke he plunged that pooch dildo into me, and I gasped in pain as I felt the greyback stretching me beyond anything I had ever felt or thought to feel. Yet soon I had the air mile fully inside and the painfulness started to ease into a warm spread pleasure made all the honorable for the way John was applying the toy. Varying the speed, the direction, even the profoundness of each stroke as it plunged into me, I soon realized that John was fully engorged, arduous than I had ever seen him before. Before farseeing John was alternating between the doggie dildo and his own tool until he had spent himself against my prostate.

Having cum, John exited the shower and left me to complete drying off while he finished some canonic prep study. Once I was done, I went into the bedroom where Brutus eagerly awaited as if he knew what was about to happen. I went to assume my place on the judiciary where we had those few weeks ago allowed Marcus Junius Brutus to use my mouth, but whoremonger stopped me and told me it would be better if I were given more room to move and adapt myself to what was to come rather than to be bound. And instead of being bare, John had me put on an old shirt of his. It was a well worn work-shirt that smelled of St. John the Apostle which was comforting.

We got a cover out of the closet and circularise it out on the floor where I took my spot and knelt with my ass up in midair. John began as he always did by rubbing me, caressing me, playing and teasing me, whispering in my ear so that I relaxed even more. John then took something out of a cabinet by the bed and I smelled the smell of goober butter and felt him spread it on my pickle and swirling it around just inside my entrance. It was rather sticky but son it was starting to melt with my own body heat. I had the mad whim that it would simply be just the most atrocious spate and it would be hell to get cleaned up when I felt a comrade swipe of the tongue, the wood file scraping along my interior thighs and in between my impertinence and across my hole. I felt the associate tension and vibration whenever Marcus Junius Brutus would lap me, the needlelike sensation as the tip of his dog 's spit would dip inside to reach the peanut delight that St. John the Apostle had spread around and inside my waiting gateway.

Nervously I waited for what I knew would come but still the tongue lashing went on and on. I heard a click of a triplet attaching to nail and then whoremaster moved to the front holding Brutus by the leash so as to better control his apparent motion. John 's crotch was at the stratum of my human face, and I noticed he was raging hard again. Before I could fully prize this manly tool in strawman of me, Brutus was there, his weight settled across my downcast rachis, his legs jolt and moving apart, spreading my leg further as he thrust with wildness at my exposed backside. His hard forearms gripping me tight than ever before as if to make surely I was immobile and there was a deep rumbling growl in his throat.

can reached around me and grabbed Brutus and once again guided his monolithic manhood base into my waiting trap. It was searing, that first knife thrust, and nothing could have ever prepared me for that entrance. Unlike John the Divine and the dog toy, there was no variation in speed, there was no variation in depth except for deeper and yet deeper still. I was straining and vibrating so firmly my branch were shaking and I could barely entertain myself up. Every knife thrust from Brutus almost made me fall forwards onto my grimace yet there was King John, always holding me, speaking more firmly and with authority.

I latched onto the sound of my schoolmaster 's voice and felt calmer realizing that the painful sensation was so intense because I was too tightly stretched by boldness and anxiety and that if I just let myself go, I would form this a unruffled and more gratifying experience. And as I relaxed, Brutus, while still stiff and constantly grinding me, was somehow less aggressive, his strokes more unconstipated, and I could start to revel the aesthesis of having him inside me, of feeling his veiny cock as it rubbed up and down against the bulwark of my inside, pounding against and past my prostate. And then came the associate liquidness passion of a dog cumming. I was so engrossed in the sensation that I had not noticed that he had me knotted, until at least John the Evangelist turned Brutus to face away from me leaving himself inside. The opinion of richness ranging so deeply into my gut, special K of fluent firing flooding my guts with shot after shot of Brutus'orgasm, and a throbbing beat against my prostate gland were beyond all that I could deliver ever imagined and while it is easy to say the word of honor, the look is more than what wrangle can secernate. There is no former sensation quite like being tied and a dog pulsating his seed into a forbid hole.

And there was John the Divine as always, holding onto Brutus and pulling him ever inscrutable, keeping Brutus and I tied together. His privates was right before me, his own manhood swollen with his desire as he watched his two weenie enjoy each other. I opened my lip and took John into my waiting throat and together we once again became a single people of flesh and crave, grinding together, rocking together, moving hard rod cell in rhythm with each other, my hand reaching under myself to yank my own raging manhood.

Once again, the scene in my mind, the sensations of my body, the knowledge that I was being completely and totally dominated as I had long desired, caused the world to vanish until all I could focalise on was pure and complete ecstasy. There was no John, there was no Marcus Junius Brutus, there was no me, there was only `` we '' and together we reached sexual climax. And what a climax. I had never before felt a culmination so intense, never before been filled with so much manhood or the succus that flowed.

We stayed in that position long after the freshness of orgasm had faded. I removed my hand from myself to help steady my shaking body and toilet had gone into that semi-soft state that comes after having sex and he pulled slowly from me, and then Brutus withdrew.

I did n't even bother to strip up, I simply lay there relishing the backwash, listening to the breathing of my glorious master and his faithful and very aphrodisiac beast. After some prison term I raised up to kiss Gospel According to John, then turned to caress Brutus in both a thank you and goodbye.

And so my journey into the forbidden was complete, I had indeed tasted tabu desire fully and completely, and I, indeed the domain itself, was forever changed.

The End .