HUSTLER
FANTASY
THIRTEEN
(Omaha, Nebraska)
by JoeD
 

This town has seen better days, but I was still able to make a good buck on the streets, having a big cock helps, and of course being the best looking boy whore on the streets insures I make it.

I had been working out in a gym near the downtown cruising area, and had this fellow named Brig was chasing me all over the place, I was sure he wanted my cock up his ass, and his butt was just the type I like to plow.

The guy was good looking, college type always wearing button down collared shirts and button fly Levies that looked almost pressed, and loafers, he looked like a cute blond haired dork.

But take off his clothing, and man he was something else. His chest was broad and the pecs showed his gym work, as did his shoulders, broad like a football player, but I am sure he never played.

His back was muscular and the biceps showed great strength, but again I was sure he didn't know how to use it, especially in defending himself.

His waist was narrow, and firm, like a swimmer's which made his giant cock look even bigger, but when it came to sexual equipment, Brig had balls, fucking fat balls like baseballs between his thighs covered with a thick thatch of blond fur, and they were the low hanging type, the kind I just love to hurt, and big enough to give Brig lots of pain, but that was still just a jerk-off fantasy.

He picked me up off my cruising corner one night rather late, he came out with his desire to have me fuck him. I was just hanging out, already scored enough, but still had spunk in my balls and a bone in my dick for a hot young butt.

We went off in his van to the wilderness across the bridge into Iowa somewhere and I fucked the living shit out of him, and he was begging for more, his asshole got popped twice that night, he sure was no virgin.

That had not stopped the following me around at the gym. He kept saying he wanted to take me to his house and we could have dinner there and do it all night when his parents were away, which was often as they were traveling reps for some big concern.

Brig did little but go to college and work out, and he did have a fine body from the working out, and that helped him get laid all the time by the best looking studs in town, according to him. He knew his looks were good, and he could have hustled big bucks if he wanted to, but mommy and daddy were paying all his bills, so he gave his ass away to anyone with a bigger dick, like me.

Rain was forecast and the streets would be empty so when he had suggested we go to his home for dinner and a long fuck session, I figured I probably wouldn't loose any money, and might have some real fun, so I told him to meet me behind the Greyhound Bus Station a block away, knowing no one would see us leaving together, in case the spirit moved me to have some real fun.

I waited outside the Greyhound in the alley for Brig to drive up in the van. He was a little late, and very apologetic. I said nothing, made a joke he would have to suck my balls to warm them, and he allowed that would be a pleasure. I am sure it would.

We got to the house and he was ready to fix dinner and then fuck, I was wanting just the opposite. I began to nibble on his neck, blow in his ears, and feel his crotch. I can turn on the charm when I want something. Soon enough he was so horny he never even opened the refrigerator.

We went right up to his room and were quickly naked and in each other's arms on the bed rolling about in a slight contest to see who would be on top, of course there as no contest. I had his legs in the air and my cock up his butt when I was ready.

He eagerly took my cock up his asshole and I fucked him as hard as I wished, slamming my cock deeper with each thrust. He was begging for more cock and he got all 12 inches and slammed hard at that.

He spurted jissim across his belly and chest and at the same time pulled me down to his lips and we kissed. Then he thrust his hips higher, bending in an incredible way to make my cock seem deeper inside him, which brought me off.

We lay on the bed for a while, kissing and holding each other, then he suggested we were a mess, which was true with scum drying on his body and some on mine along with sex sweat, so we went to the bathroom to take a shower.

He was adjusting the water, wanting it to be hot, but not too hot, acting very fussy. I peeked in the medicine cabinet, and saw a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some wide adhesive, and cotton balls. He was sputtering about the water, being too queenie for my taste, and I became impatient.

I had planned to grab him and pull him close like I was going to kiss his mouth, sometime after dinner, and make him think I was going to screw his butthole again, well I would, but only after he was dead.

My cock would stay hard as we sat eating naked, thinking about strangling him face to face as we stood somewhere in the house. I had thought how wonderful his body would feel next to mine as he died.

But like necessity, impatience cane be the mother of invention, now I had another fun idea of what to do with Brig. It made me instantly horny for a terminal game, the kind I savor.

I grabbed his left ear and swung him about, bashing his butt against the sink, across from the toilet. I raised my right knee to his crotch lifting him off the floor, then I slugged him in the jaw, snapping his head back. He cried out, but sank to the floor clutching his nuts.

He was leaning forward on the floor and I grabbed his balls from behind him, pulling them between his legs back toward his butt. He screamed as I lifted him by his manhood, and slammed him against the sink. Big balls are wonderful to play with.

Brig was trembling and shaking, gasping for air after scrambling to his feet, I quickly grabbed his left hand and taped it with the wide adhesive and spun him around. Then pulled his right behind him and taped them together. Then I threw him on the toilet and kicked him in the crotch several times, making him bend over in extreme pain.

He was screaming in agony as I pelted his balls with first one foot, then the other, and finally I grabbed his balls and crushed them in my fist, and pounded them until they retreated under his pubic bone.

I like to ruin a guy;s nuts for sure, but there is also a good reason to do this besides the pleasure it gives me hearing a guy screaming as his manhood is smashed.

In Brig's case, just in case he knew how to use all those wonderful muscles he had, I wanted to be sure he was in no condition to fight back. He wasn't when those beautiful fat balls disappeared.

He was near vomiting and unable to breath, just gasping for air in short gulps, his body shaking, his shoulders twisting as he desperately tried to wrench his hands free and stand at the same time, but the agony in his belly was holding him down.

I took the package of cotton balls and stuffed several up his nose, using a thermometer to shove them deep in his head so he could not possible blow them out his nose. He was struggling so much I had to hold his head in an arm lock, and I almost strangled him then and there.

Then I shoved the rest of the package into his mouth, which he tried to close, but I took hold of his dick and yanked on it, making him fear more intense pain and gasp, then I filled him. Something funny happened when I yanked his dick, his balls popped out back into the sack, handy if I needed them.

He was looking wonderfully scared, his eyes were already bloodshot from the fighting, and his skin was taking on a pale pallor. I opened the rubbing alcohol bottle and began to pour the liquid in his mouth.

He reared his head away trying to avoid the bitter tasting stuff, and the fumes made my eyes water, so I can just imagine what it was doing to him. I rammed the bottle into his mouth and pushing the cotton down further into his throat.

He was getting the cotton deep enough so he was gagging and strangling on it as well as the liquid. He had to be inhaling the stuff too into his lungs and it must have been burning something fierce.

His face was twisted in pain, his eyes rolled back, then into focus, his mouth was open, yet locked tightly shut about the bottle neck, then when the bottle was empty I tossed it aside and wrapped a length of tape about his head, sealing his mouth shut with the soggy cotton inside.

Brig was struggling still, but he was weakening. His shoulder motion was not as strong, and his feet were not lifting up off the floor as high, or as much. He was suffocating, or drowning, I don't care which, he was without air.

His body was taking on a blue tint to the already pale hue. The blue veins were standing out, and then I noticed the veins in his neck standing up as blood pulsed through them.

His head was tilted back, making the adams apple stand out even more as I stood and watched him dying, and struggling to live. His lungs must have been burning from the alcohol as well as the lack of oxygen, his body quivered like he was being strangled.

And indeed he was strangling on something, cotton in his throat most likely, and he was vomiting the alcohol up, and swallowing it back down, but the burning stomach acid was also going down his trachea into his lungs causing even more burning discomfort.

It was hot watching the blond boy die, his firm muscular body flexing, making all the muscles show well, as if I were strangling him, yet there were no hands about his neck, or garrote about his throat.

It made me hot, and I began to jerk off, watching his eyes roll about, his skin tone darken to a mottled blue effect, his cock stand up tall even with all the pain his sex was in, his balls were swollen twice as big stretching the near hairless scrotum skin tight, making the bruises shine.

I pumped my cock, and I watched his rolling eyes and he had seen I was getting sexual pleasure from watching him die, he understood that much, but no more I am sure, his mind racing in desperation trying to find an escape. With JoeD there never is escape when I kill.

I listened to the constant strangling and gurgling sounds as he continued to vomit and convulse sitting on the seat, his feet on the floor now, his arms less straining, more relaxed as death slowly took over his body.

It was so hot I blew off, my scum splattered over his body, I let a stream splash across his face, then the rest squirted over his chest and belly, his own cock was bulging with a final ejaculation which might or might not get shot out.

I squatted between his still quivering thighs, then licked the bouncing prick, and took the head into my mouth, and looked up to see him actually die, his eyes rolled back leaving only the bloodshot whites, his face wrinkled in agony, his chest heaving still, and the heart beating so frantically that the bulge with each beat now visible in his left pectoral.

His belly convulsed, his heart stopped, then started, his head wobbled, his body shook all over, the skin crawling like a horse throwing off flies, then my mouth was filled with his final cum load, and he fell back, his throat still swallowing, as he gagged again, making the adams apple flex as he died.

It was early in the evening, and by then I was hungry, so I fixed me a nice meal. After which I cleaned up so the place looked like Brig had just come home and was attacked. I ransacked the house, taking some items and I left very late, after giving his corpse a good fucking.

I walked back to downtown, and dropped the things I took I had no use for in a public garbage can, then slept real good, like I always do after a kill. It made the papers for a week, they even claimed Brig had been forced into his final sex. Shit, the guy who did the autopsy had to know different.

The cops never figured what had happened and I worked the town for some time after and was never questioned about it, cops are dumb bastards sometimes, fuck all the time!

It reminds me about another shower murder. Shit, you'd think my mom watched psycho while she was pregnant with me wouldn't you. I never stabbed a guy in the shower, might be fun.

I was living in southern California, working Santa Monica Boulevard, selling my dick and ass to the highest bidder, and doing anything else that was going on I could make a profit doing.

I had a bike then, a nice red Honda, a sporty bike, and that attracted me a lot of good tricks for just plane sex. It also gave me the freedom to cruise other places than the boulevard if the cops were coming down on the boy whores.

I had taken the day off and was out in the desert doing some target shooting, out there you can shoot all day and no one complains. Hell, I never complain if I shoot all day, get it, a joke man, shoot my cock, shoot my gun, oh well, you ain't paying me for this so don't bitch.

I was riding back, and outside of Redlands I decided to get some gas, and maybe a Coke, I was thirsty. I gassed up and had a drink and was just turning on the entrance ramp for the freeway when I spotted him, a wispy blonde boy with no shirt, tight white jeans, and high-topped black sneakers.

He was thumbing, I pulled over. He trotted up to the bike and pulled the shirt from his hip pocket, and pulling it over his head, covering his slender belly and flat chest, with large brown nipples, he looked inviting. As the shirt slipped over his neck, and he swallowed, making the adams apple bounce, even more so.

"Where you headed? I asked.

"Home, in Montclaire, down the highway a ways if you are going that far," he said, cramming his fist in a front pocket, which accented the cock to the left of his fly.

"I'm going to LA, so I can drop you anywhere."

"The freeway entrance would be fine, on Central Ave., I live just across from the mall by a couple of blocks. It will be just great!"

"Hop on man, and hold on, I don't go slow."

"Cool man, pop a wheelie, man!" he said as he sat on the ammunition box which was flattened in half.

I pulled onto the road, then popped the wheelie as we took off, soon doing ninety miles per hour on the straight cement road smooth as any road could be, he yelled and whooped in my ear as I set the bike down then popped another wheelie as we passed a tandem truck. I can be a real hot-dog when I want to impress a kid.

He held tightly about my waist, his fingers clutching together about my crotch. I got a hard on as he held fast, his fingers found it and he held my stiff cock, and I thought he was snuggling up closer to me.

When I got to the Central Ave. exit, I drove onto the street and pulled off, he was still holding my bone, and he leaned into my ear, and whispered to me, "you want to come over to my house and get rid of this boner?"

"Yea, which way?" I asked.

We were soon in the driveway, and he guided me up into his room after a fast tour of the house, and an explanation that his parents and sister were working, and would not be home until after five, and it was only three thirty. Time to fuck, and kill, I thought.

We got naked, his body was sender, not muscular at all, and he had little tan too, like maybe today was the first he had been out without a shirt, but his cock was nice. He had a circumcised pointy head and thin low hanging balls, and we did a sixty nine.

He was a fair cocksucker, able to take most of my dick into his mouth. He explored about my body, his tongue lashing wetness over my balls, and between them and my asshole. He seemed not to mind the flavor of the long hot sweaty day in the desert on my privates.

His prick was salty with the flavor of sweat, the musky flavor and scent of a young man, almost cheesy, almost bitter. The flavor inflamed me and must be what he tasted on my pecker-head did the same for him.

His fingers caressed up over my belly finding the nipple rings which he had admired, but not commented about. Now he was twisting them, fondling my hard nipples as his mouth consumed me, drinking all the cum I spurted out.

As I popped, he too reached his climax, and I was given a hot drink of thick juice which I greedily swallowed, holding his prick deep in my throat, feeling it pulse the cum into me.

He released my dick, and I contemplated hurting him there on the bed, making him scream in agony before I strangled him, but strangling him didn't seem right, even though I hadn't done anyone today, maybe something different. I'd wait.

He took me into the shower and we started to clean each other, then I got a devilish idea. I began to caress his ass, and he tuned to me and asked if I wanted to fuck him, and I answered him honestly, making him laugh.

"No I want to kill you," I repeated after his giggling stopped.

He looked surprised, then all at once frightened as he realized I was not kidding. I grasped his nuts and yanked them down hard, almost ripping them from his belly, he screamed and gasped for air.

I then pushed my hand between his legs from behind and lifted him with the right arm, and held him high so his face was next to the shower head, then I took my left hand and rammed his head down on the shower nozzle hard, breaking teeth, cutting his lips.

He struggled, and was yelling as I bashed his face into the shower head several times until I got his mouth about the head. His broken teeth littered the shower floor, blood ran down his neck and body in a red river.

His torn lips were stretched wide about the chrome shower head, blood drooled over the silver metal to the pink tiles on the wall. He was gagging and loudly strangling, his body was bucking. He was drinking hot water and drowning, coughing and kicking about all at once.

His arms flailed about, his legs kicked as I wormed my fingers into his asshole. Soon he had taken my hand in him, more because of the panicked struggling and twisting of his body, than his ability to be fist fucked.

I was still holding the back of his head so his mouth was surrounding the shower head, making a spray of water arc over us as just so much would go in him, and the rest was squirting out from his lips and gums.

He was fast drowning. Water was shooting out his nose, his eyes were bulging, and his skin was suddenly cold even though the water was hot. The jerking and kicking of his arms and legs had stopped, he was limp in my grip and my hand was swallowed deeper into his bowel.

The flexing of his asshole on my hand was pleasant, his body bucked and convulsed as he died. I wondered if he was shooting off, it felt like it on my hand. I peeked about and sure enough his prick was arched back touching his belly, but the water running red from his mouth was washing any cum away as fast as his prick shot it out, if he was getting off.

I held him up there a while, then I realized his chest and belly were filling up as the water was being forced into his stomach and lungs, which must have ruptured from the sudden influx of water, and his body cavity was filling up and getting very heavy. Suddenly water was running over my arm from his asshole. Either my hand had ripped his rectum, or the water had burst his guts, in any event, a bloody water was running over my arm, and it stunk. I dropped him.

He fell on the floor of the tiled shower with blood washing from his mouth, now an open hole with broken white teeth, and his enlarged asshole, turned wrong side out as my hand had exited.

His eyes open wide, the pupils rolled back, his face and body light blue in color. His belly was swollen, as was his chest, like he had suddenly gained a hundred pounds of blubber, making his arms look scrawny and alien.

I was so horny I almost jerked off from having felt his body squirming and watching as he died, but I decided his mouth would be a good fuck hole, so I held him by the ears and plowed my dong deep into his throat and squirted deep in him, able to see the outline of my dickhead in his throat as I shot off.

I washed the shit from my hand, and left the hot water running on his body. I dressed, but I got a souvenir of the tight small blue bikini underwear he had been wearing which was still damp with his sweat and smelled so good.

You know it is amazing what you can do with a good looking guy and a bathroom, especially a shower or a medicine cabinet to find little helpers in killing. Shit man, the more I kill the better I get at it, the fucking cops will never catch my ass.