The Boy Avengers (12 page)
Isn't he even going to use vaseline? I protested.
He knows what he's doing, Tom said.
So with the great head of his magnificent cock lodged securely in that depression at whose center was Mr. Butterworth's anus, Hal lowered his torso on the other and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on our friend's mouth. It was, I thought, a most interesting gestureto place his tongue as a hostage in Mr. Butterworth's mouth, against his great cock rupturing that small-appearing asshole.
The camera clearly caught the great tensing of those powerful thigh muscles as Hal thrust hard to force the huge head of his cock into that anus. Mr. Butterworth suddenly reached his hands down. I stifled a gasp of disappointment, expecting those hands to ward off the mammoth intruder. But instead they merely reached to pull apart and hold apart the cheeks of the ass, to make easier the entry of that great battering ram.
It worked, for Hal's thigh muscles tensed mightily once more, then suddenly slackened. Jeff cried out, for it was clear the anus had opened, the great head had forced a way into it.
Hal pulled his mouth from Mr. Butterworth's and smiled gratefully at him. On our friend's face was a look of awed delight at the realization that the immense glans had succeeded in entering him. His hands reached to feel that shaft, to dispel any final disbelief, to feel it protruding from his asshole and, in passing, to fondle gratefully those beautiful huge balls.
Hal lifted himself so he could look down and see that amazing juncture. He seemed nearly beside himself with delight that it had been accomplished. One gathered it was a rare asshole indeed that could accommodate his heroic cock. Impulsively he threw himself down to share another passionate kiss with our friend.
Tom, on the alert, had let one of his remote cameras record this engrossing kiss and had zoomed in with his hand camera on Hal's slim but powerful-looking hips. With editing worthy of a film master he'd cut back and forth to contrast that consuming kiss with the joint effort of Hal's driving hips, Mr. Butterworth's slim, wiry legs clamped about Hal's back, forcing that mammoth cock all the way into that surprising asshole. Either Mr. Butterworth was a consummate masochist, or that fantastic forcing was a rare pleasureit must have been the latterfor even though the ultimate penetration was finally achieved, still Mr. Butterworth continued to push his slim ass with all his might, lifting it entirely off the bed. His reward was to feel those great worthy balls of his lover pressed hard against his taut buttocks.
Already this film has run longer than the other, Tom whispered.
It isn't possible! I whispered back.
That consuming kiss, actually, marked the end of one phase and the beginning of the most intense part of all. Hal and Mr. Butterworth knew it. They did not hurry it, for each had finally taken the full measure of the other, discovering how perfectly matched they were. Perhaps it is my affection for Mr. Butterworth speaking, but I got the impression Hal had never before found so perfect a match for his remarkable endowment, and was fully aware of it. I was glad he'd gotten his five hundred dollars
(my
five hundred dollars); nevertheless I had the distinct feeling that had he been paid nothing, what he received from our friend would have been ample recompense. Hal was a truly glorious creature in a generally drab world, and now I saw Mr. Butterworth as another such person; I felt myself privileged to have discovered it so graphically. I wasn't the only one to feel this, I learned later.
What a splendid moment it was, what glorious anticipation as these two braced for what would surely be, for each, the consummate fuck of his life, thus far. With slow deliberation, much like a child preparing to eat a long-desired dessert with exquisite care, Hal slipped his muscular arms under Mr. Butterworth's arms, taking a firm grip with his hands on the sturdy shoulders. He burrowed his head beside our friend's and pressed it close.
Mr. Butterworth locked his legs solidly about Hal's broad back, but his hands reached down and took firm hold of his own buttocks to pull them apart and flatten them so that Hal's powerful thrusts could achieve maximum penetration.
Then he began. What a stunning contrast to the spastic, frantic animal thrusts of all but Jamie in fucking Sandra. How infinitely more noble, more consuming than the mechanicalthough intensethrusts that Jamie had employed for the sole purpose of achieving orgasm.
Yes, Hal was striving towards orgasm, but this was the ultimate goal, for he made every inch of every thrust exquisitely marvelous.
It was here that, to my mind, Tom displayed near genius in film-making. At considerable cost, I am sure, but well worth it, he employed a split screen for the next sequence. A small portion of the screen showed a continuing close-up of Mr. Butterworth's face, his reaction to the mammoth cock pumping in and out of his fortunate anus with such loving ruthlessness; while a major portion of the screen was filled with the breathtaking sight of that incredible insertion and withdrawal, that once-small dimple of an anus stretched beyond belief, those great balls, symbolizing the ultimate in manhood, slamming with great force against the yoke where Mr. Butterworth's wiry thighs joined his buttocks. Each stroke was nearly the total of Hal's full ten inches, for at the point of maximum withdrawal, the seemingly strained-beyond-limit anus opened a fraction further to give a brief view, graphically caught by the superb zoom lens, of the marvelous corona of Hal's glans.
As I describe it, it is hard to conceive that anything in the world could be more directly, more specifically erotic than the sight of this great driving penis thrusting powerfully into the anus that was its most perfect receptacle. And yet as I watched, I saw this only peripherally, for my eyes were drawn hypnotically to the inset of Mr. Butterworth's face, stunningly beautiful in its ecstatic happiness, gleaming with sweat, interpreting what was happening to him far more accurately than words ever could. His face was reflecting it as a supreme moment of his life; in my own I could imagine only one moment that could rival it, and that was when I had seen Jack Foster sucking my fatherthe exquisite, beautiful joy on the face of my father, never more handsome than at that moment.
Moment by moment it was so engrossingly beautiful I faced with regret the fact that it was building towards an orgasm that must end it. But when, finally, one could see the intensity building up, the new stillness in Mr. Butterworth as every fiber of his being strained to feel and to experience the gathering of the great manly juices in his lover, I found my heart pounding. I was filled anew with apprehension that the wiry but relatively-slight frame might not be able to withstand the force of the explosion that was surely imminent.
And it came with startling suddenness. Incredibly, Hal's mammoth cock withdrew entirely from the asshole, but like a great lance held flawlessly on target, it didn't falter or even tremble. That asshole, so nearly invisible at the beginning, was now a perfect round opening, a sweet mouth open in anticipation, parted only a moment from its lifetime desire. Only for a heart-stopping second were they apart. The great cock plunged with ruthless dedication into its cave of ultimate delight. Every muscle of that magnificent body seemed to bulge at exactly that moment. It was clear a gigantic orgasm had exploded up and out of his cock deep into Mr. Butterworth. I heard a great cry of joy and wondered for a moment if this had been a sound film after all, then realized that the cry had been mine.
The screen went black. Tom waited a moment, then turned on the lights. My first realization was that I myself had had an orgasm; my shorts were sticky with a copious flow of semen. My second realization was that Jeff was crying.
What's wrong? I asked in natural concern.
It was so beautiful! he whispered. I never thought anything could be that beautiful. Will it ever be like that for me? Am I capable of it?
Yes, I said. And I knew it could be.
Was it all right? Tom asked.
I fell asleep in the middle of it, I said. He laughed and Jeff laughed.
Jeff became thoughtful. Jamie and the othersI thought it was such a terrible thing that they would take a person, someone who had done them no harm, and force him against his will. Now I see it was something far worse that they did, for they made an act that could have been beautiful and wonderful and meaningful into something brutal and ugly. I think now that
that
part of it was far worse than the other.
You are right, Tom said. Do you think we have done too little to them?
No, I think it was just right, Jeff said. They made sex ugly, and that their sexual organs should suffer directly and their egos suffer permanently, is perfect retribution.
JEFF'S REACTION TO THAT BEAUTIFUL FILM WAS ALL we needed to know about his sex orientation. He was thoughtful when we got back to our room at the school. I knew it was a turning point, but I felt it was up to him to decide what should come next.
Mr. Foster is next on our schedule, isn't he? he said to me.
I suppose so.
Do you have anything special in mind?
I did, but for many reasons I couldn't tell him. No, I said.
You hold him responsible for your parents' deaths, don't you?
I looked at him in surprise. Yes.
And what happened to me, the way he behaved about it, did that aggravate things?
Yes. It made me see more clearly the extent of his responsibility. And it had. For until his glaring indifference to Jeff's rape, I'd thought it possible he'd only been a catalyst in the tragedy that had destroyed my parents. His attitude towards Jeff, his near-sadistic delight that something so beautiful had been soiled made me realize he hadn't, after all, been an innocent pawn, but may very well have solicited my father's lusts, have deliberately played husband against wife; why else did he flee so precipitously on realizing what he'd done?
I
know
what you want me to do.
You do? That's remarkable, when I don't know myself. A lie, of course.
Yes you do. You want me to let Mr. Foster fuck me, take pictures of it secretly, and use them against him.
It doesn't appall you, the thought of Mr. Foster fucking you?
I'd be doing it for you.
And not for yourself, even a little?
His indifference to my wrong will be set to rights when he learns his five golden boys are rotten with syphilis.
That isn't what I meant, and you know it.
I expect to enjoy it because I'm doing it for you, and because you'll be watching. No other reason. Does he really have a big cock?
How would I know?
You know.
He's as large as Mr. Butterworth. Perhaps a little fatter, but no longer.
Ah! he said with a wondering smile. Did he ever fuck you?
No! I said too sharply.
Did you ever want him to?
In a way. But I'd never been fucked then. What I thought more of doing was sinking my face into his genitals.
Like most of the boys here. And how'd you happen to see them?
He was my tutor! He lived in the house, for Christ's sake!
Can I be sure he wouldn't hurt me if he fucked me?
He wouldn't be like the others, I promised. He'd know how to do it right. I recalled that he'd not been even a little gentle with my father, had fucked him ruthlessly, stuck his cock in hard and fast. But that was exactly what my father had wanted of him. Tom Little's friend, I said. The one who found out what Mr. Butterworth wanted. Why don't we ask his advice?
You don't think you've had enough experience?
No, I said. Another lie. There's nothing I didn't know about my own asshole, what it is capable of, and I think I'm a good judge of what the average asshole can take. But I still didn't trust the emotional factors, so I thought it best that the preparation of Jeff's asshole for Jack Foster's fuck be done by others.
Are you kidding? Tom Little said. Cary Jenks would be ecstatic to be consulted about an asshole like Jeff's! Can't say I blame him.
I hope you're not losing your bisexual balance, I said. He smiled.
It will show the extent of my lingering prejudices that what Tom had told me about Cary Jenks, his skill in homosexual dealings, made me picture him as a screaming fag. I suppose to a loyal American Legioner he
was
a screaming fag, for his manner was flamboyant, he dressed colorfully and he was quick to smilelike Browning's
My Last Duchess.
I liked him on sight. He was thoughtful, genuinely witty. Sometimes he was given to glib parrotings of popular avant-garde opinions if they were sufficiently outrageous, but with someone he respected he'd give a question the full benefit of his intellect and answer thoughtfully. Only an insecure person would feel uneasy in his presence. With someone who bored him he could be devastating. But never gratuitously cruel.
If Cary liked
me
on sight, it was because through Tom he knew I was concerned that after his dismal experience Jeff have the best possible awakening to what a beautiful experience sodomy could be. Tom, who sometimes displayed an odd sense of humor, neglected to tell Cary one crucial fact about Jeff: that he was extraordinarily beautiful. Cary was literally speechlesseven open-mouthedwhen Jeff was presented to him.
His method of recovery was to talk about himself. It was only a relentless desire to enjoy sodomy that overcame my
own
dismal sexual initiation, he told us. At the age of ten, while staying at the Plaza in New York, I was lured by a rich old man to his room with a promise of unspecified but unmitigated delights. I didn't question it when he ordered me to remove all my Best and Company Lilliputian Bazaar clothes, for I'd been taught to obey any command given me by an adult. And I was only fascinated when he took hold of his pee-pee (which was what I'd been taught to call it), but when after frantic work he couldn't make the sagging old thing hard, I laughed. That was a mistake. It drove him to unreasoning anger. He grabbed me in one hand, grabbed his gold-headed cane in the other, and rammed the rough gold head up my virgin asshole, splitting me open.
Naturally my parents were outraged when I ran screaming to them with a bloody asshole. But when they learned it had been done by someone who headed a company my father hoped to do lucrative business with, they told me not to be such a baby, that I'd been justly punished, it was only a form of spanking, and I was to keep my mouth shut about it. Naturally that event gave me a dim view of any activity concerning the asshole long after it healed. But without any prompting from others, I reasoned that a cock pumping up the ass
should
be a pleasant experience, that they were meant for each other, so I practiced putting suitably-shaped things up my ass until I knew I was ready for the real thing.
Is that what you have in mind for Jeff? I asked.
Yes. But thanks to modem technology, I can make his initiation brief and pleasant.
How? Jeff asked.
Cary wordlessly produced a handsome alligator attache case, opened it to reveal, neatly stored in rows, several flesh-colored plastic representations of erect penises. And a small machine. A vibrator, Cary explained. That's where the technology comes in.
Jeff stripped off his clothes. My God! Cary cried. Even my wildest fantasies never looked like this. Are you for real?
If you feel we should call in someone else... Tom said wickedly.
Wash out your mouth with high chlorestoral soap!
How do you want me? Jeff asked.
Oh, God, the answers I could give to
that
one.
Be professional, Tom chided, and he became businesslike at once. He had Jeff get on a couch in the studio on hands and knees. He produced a jar of unguent and massaged it into Jeff's asshole professionally and lovingly.
It feels like Mr. Foster's stuff, Jeff told me. I doubt it, Cary said smugly. This is violently expensive.
Cary applied more of the stuff to the smallest of the plastic cocks. I'd already felt one of them. They had a resilience much like that of a firm erected human penis. Cary screwed the smallest onto the vibrator, turned it on, and held the head of the plastic cock to Jeff's asshole. He didn't seem to be applying much pressure, but all of a sudden it popped into Jeff's asshole. He gave a gasp of surprise.
Hurt, honey? Cary asked anxiously.
Jeff laughed. Feels good. Feels funny, too, vibrating like that. But mostly it feels good.
Cary manipulated the cock, gently pushing in all of its modest five inches. He pulled it all the way out, pushed it back in more firmly. Jeff didn't flinch. In fact, he had a contented smile on his face. I only hope a real cock feels this good. He turned to Cary. You been fucked much?
Incessantly. He screwed the next size, six inches long, an inch and a half in diameter, onto the vibrator, put salve on, and it slid into Jeff's asshole nearly with a minimum of effort. He smiled in approval. I hadn't even begun to push! Kid, you're a natural! After pulling the cock out and inserting it carefully a couple of times he simulated fucking with it, using full, sturdy strokes. It obviously felt good, for Jeff was beginning to move his hips to anticipate, to meet the plastic cock. What pleased me was that he could be so uninhibited. Tom shook his head in wonder.
Ready for the big one? Cary asked. The big one was a good eight inches, two inches in diameter. It was as big as Jack Foster's, as big as Mr. Butterworth's. But of course not nearly as big as Hal's.
Cary was gentler, more tentative with this one. It was Jeff himself who reached around, took hold of the broad shaft and plunged it far into his asshole. I fancied I saw him wince, but only for the briefest fraction of a second, as the fat head was forcing a way through his anus. Once it was inside he let Cary take over; he pushed until all eight broad inches were totally inside. Oh, that feels
really
good. Now fuck me incessantly.
I hope you don't become snobbish about ordinary-sized cocks, Cary said.
Depends whose they are, Jeff said sagely.
Exactly right, Cary said approvingly.
I guess there's nothing now I can't take.
Want to bet? Cary pulled the big cock out of Jeff, brought out what looked like a case for a bassoon, opened it to reveal an immense plastic cock twelve inches long and three inches fat. It was bigger than Hal's in length, but not in diameter. We were all silent a moment gazing at it. I know someone who could take it, I said.
Your friend? Cary asked.
You did Mr. Butterworth, didn't you? Jeff asked.
Sure. But he fucked me. He fucks like a dream. It isn't too often you find someone who can take something that big and also fuck well. Some guys with small cocks, or who have trouble getting a hard-on, keep at it till they can take the very biggest cocks up their ass. Sort of reverse compensation.
I don't have trouble getting a hard-on, Jeff said. And I think I'm going to like being fucked.
You're something else again. I can't imagine
anyone
so impotent he wouldn't get a hard-on at the sight of
that
beautiful ass. I could be three days dead in my coffin and bounce right back to life if
that
walked by.
Can
you
take something that big? I asked.
Why do you think I brought it out? Want a demonstration, I hope?
Yes, Jeff said eagerly.
You want to stick it in me?
Oh, yes!
Cary stripped and knelt on the couch. Is it superfluous to add that, like many homosexuals, he'd taken exquisite care of his body? Jeff picked up the tremendous cock. Shall I screw it into the vibrator?
No, just screw it into
me.
I take it straight.
The vibrator is kid stuff?
No. Not at all. But this is
your
party.
Jeff took him at his word and pressed the mammoth dildo firmly to Cary's asshole. All the same, we were surprised at the ease with which it went in. But Cary had to twist around before he could get the entire twelve inches inside him.
Do you think I'll ever be able to take anything this big? Jeff asked.
You want to?
I think so. I'm sure he was remembering Mr. Butterworth's pleasure in Hal's great cock.
Chances are, you could get accustomed to it right now. But it would hurt like hell going in the first time. If you're really serious about it, I'd like to get a couple of intermediate sizes first, and work you up to the big one. Actually, I think it's fantastic you could take the big one of the regular set so easily. I hadn't expected that.
Why is that?
Your attitude. You weren't afraid. And you've learned already how to keep your asshole absolutely relaxed. That's the key to the whole business. I'd expected to spend a lot of time with the smallest cock. That's why I use the vibrator. It feels good anyhow. In fact, one of the finer experiences is having a vibrator throbbing up your ass while someone is giving you a blow job. But mostly it relaxes your asshole so you don't have trouble getting the cock in.
Has Cary seen the picture of Jamie Crawford's asshole? Jeff asked Tom.
No, Tom said. I had a flicker of suspicion Tom hadn't wanted Cary to know he'd made that blowup. See what you think, Cary, he said. He got it out and handed it over.
Cary whistled. Tom, boy, you've been holding out on me. Damned fine picture. Anyone you know?
One of the guys that buggered Jeff. Looks to me like he's been plenty buggered himself.
No, Cary said. You can't tell that easily. I know it
looks
well-fucked, and I'm not saying it isn't, but also a virgin asshole can look like this just from toilet habits. Some guys that have to strain a lot get piles; others get puckered assholes like this.