Guidance (closed for ericrodman101) [M/M]

[tamgreen]

When Mr. Grant got aggressive, spearing into him alongside Gerry's cock and doubling the intensity of the already painful invasion. More than doubling, in truth - at least he'd gotten more or less accustomed to Gerry's size in the past few days they'd been fucking.

Days? Had it really only been days since he'd had his cherry popped and instantly become a boytoy, a cunt, a fuckhole for whatever nearby cock was craving a tight teen hole? How many lives had he lived in such a short time?

Split you in two, split you in two....

Toby howled, he squealed, he moaned and bawled and whimpered and grunted. Split in two - Christ, he felt like he'd be split into atoms at this point, a little piece for every man that would ever live, annihilated and consumed. Was lust always so destructive? They all wanted to hurt him, tear him, make him scream, and maybe not with pleasure. How would they all feel when this was all over - ashamed, embarrassed, horrified, satisfied? Everything at once? And how would he feel?

Proud, maybe, if there were anything left of him.

Of course Toby had a self-destructive streak. Anyone would, who grew up the way he had. This must have been inevitable. It was better than drugs, at least.

Or maybe he wouldn't be proud. Maybe he would be so traumatized he could never look at a man again. Whatever the result, he just had to get through this.

He pressed his cheek harder against Gerry, as if it would keep him grounded.

Daddy's here, he told himself, mentally soothing himself through it, even as Daddy grunted and growled about splitting him in two. Daddy's here, Daddy's got you, Daddy's here, Daddy loves you...

Oh, love hurts.

"Bite me, bite me," he found himself babbling - not in a defiant adolescent way, but a childish, sobbing, wheedling beg. He wanted Daddy's teeth digging into his flesh right now, if only to provide some distraction from the pain below.

"Bite me!"

 

[ericrodman101]

Chris Grant was fucking Toby hard. And Gerry, for that matter, their cocks rubbing together, insufficiently lubed. Gerry could tell how much unresolved anger Grant had with the boy. And he knew where it was coming from. Toby was a little shit and there was something about the kid whining under the pressure of double penetration which elated Gerry, just as much as the sheer crazy depth of their violation of the boy was nagging at him.

But what did the kid expect, walking into the room, accusing the chaplain of touching him, and then pretty much wiggling his ass and getting down to it? So they were all grown men, maybe not responsible ones anymore, but who knew what they wanted. A hot little boycunt came along offering it to them, so they took it. Who wouldn't?

Grant was pushing in hard, twisting his cock into the boy, using his hips and his knees to break the seal, overcome all the friction of a tight asshole and a second cock inside. Gerry backed off, just lying there, keeping Toby off the ground, letting his colleague's cock guide his own in and out of the kid's hole, not even trying to mount a parallel fuck. The other men in the room had gathered close. Gerry could see their cocks in their hands, their mouths moving, their eyes burrowing into the flesh of the three guys on the floor. No one wanted to look into his eyes.

And then Toby was saying 'bite me'. Where the fuck did that come from? 'Bite me'. Over and over. Whining. Babbling.

"Bite you?" Gerry whispered. The kid sobbed an affirmation. Grant's assault was hammering Toby up Gerry's body, until his cock was on the verge of slipping out. The back of Toby's neck came level with Gerry's mouth. The older man suckled the boy's skin for a moment, then opened his lips and nipped the boy lightly. It was hard to gain any purchase, so frenzied was Grant's invasion. Gerry nipped again. He felt Toby respond, as if the nip in some way compensated for the intense pain he must be feeling elsewhere.

And then Toby was pushed higher, and his shoulder was against Gerry's mouth. The older man's cock had slipped out of Toby's hole now, and was being pummeled painfully against a leg. Gerry nipped the shoulder just as Chris Grant came in a thundering orgasm, crying, throwing his head back, punching himself inside the boy who squealed again, before collapsing across them both, an elbow coming to rest under Gerry's chin.

"Fucking Jesus," someone said.

 

[tamgreen]

Fucking Jesus.

"Am I Jesus?" Toby mumbled deliriously. It might have been a joke, but who knew?

Here he was, lying inert between two sweaty bodies, feeling more or less crucified for the sins of men. Maybe he was the Devil, walking in here to stir up their temptation and cause them to sin. Right or wrong, he knew from the chaplain's babblings that he was already a scapegoat. Maybe that was why he had fixated on the chaplain. He still craved for the alleged man of God to just admit he wanted to fuck boys, like so many other alleged men of God. Just fucking admit it. The only thing worse than a hypocrite was a hypocrite in denial.

And he still hasn't pissed... Come on, man... I got your urinal right here.

The words were coming to his hazy brain, taunting and teasing despite being barely conscious - he wasn't sure if he'd spoken them aloud or not.

Was it over? Was he dead? Would he be expelled, arrested, taken home, taken to the hospital, left here on the floor of the principal's office for someone to find, dumped in an alley somewhere, back where he'd come from?

It was so quiet now, except for the heavy breathing. Toby kept his eyes closed, unable to move

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry felt that the three men lay on the rug in the Principal's Office for a long time, he and Chris Grant sandwiching Toby. It can only have been seconds of course, but in Gerry's head, a lifetime flashed by. The kid said something about Jesus. Gerry almost smiled. The boy must be hurting, not just from the anal assault, well the several, but also from the uncomfortable position in which the two older men had fucked him. And double penetrated him, anally. How was that not uncomfortable to say the least?

And yet, as Gerry watched the slideshow autobiography inside his brain, everything he'd ever done or thought or acted out seemed to lead inexorably to this point, this extraordinary moment in time, the sexiest, most astounding, arousing crazy fucking thing he'd ever done.

And then Toby said something about a urinal. No doubt he needed to piss. Gerry did too. Chris Grant climbed off them, huffing and puffing like he'd run a marathon, spent from his exertions. He stood over Gerry and Toby, displaying his limp cock in his hands, waving it about as if casting a spell.

"You little fuck, Toby Keller. You shitting little fuck. Ha!"

Gerry felt a cramp. He adjusted his leg, letting Toby slide onto the floor beside him. The kid's face came to rest close to his. He looked into Toby's half closed eyes. The boy seemed barely conscious. Gerry bent his neck so that he could nuzzle the boy's cheek. He smelled dirty and sweaty. The older man puckered his lips and kissed the boy on the nose.

"Sweet," Grant said. "Now, chaplain. You still wanna piss? Give me a hand, man."

Grant bent over and picked Toby up round the waist. The boy made no complaint.

"Hey Metzler, this fucking school run to a private toilet for the Principal?"

 

[tamgreen]

Gabriel Dance, the chaplain, absurdly crossed himself before stepping forward to participate. He was surrounded by personalities with much more force than his own. Even the kid - the damn kid, who looked half dead and could barely speak much less walk, was stronger than him. He went along.

The principal's private toilet? Toby had heard rumors. A room he never would have expected to see the inside of. Now he was being carried in there by school administrators, some from other schools and some from his own. Now he was being dropped onto the tile floor next to the convenient drain, dropped like a broken puppet.

"Go on, rev," Grant goaded the chaplain, squeezing the back of his neck and holding him in place, the two of them standing over the teen's inert body - there wasn't room for any others in the little private bathroom. Toby looked up at them weakly, defeated but still somehow daring them, taunting them - or was it their wishful imaginations that saw that in him?

"Go on, let loose. What's a little shit like that for, huh?"

Gabriel Dance gritted his teeth and shut his eyes for a few moments, cock in hand. He seemed to be whispering. Praying? At last, he moaned almost orgasmically, and the first golden splash leaped free, raining across Toby's chest. The boy gasped in response and squirmed, opening himself up more to receive the blessing from the chaplain.

More - hot and powerful, the stream gushed over him, now aimed mainly at his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened wide. He felt a second stream splattering over his stomach, his thighs, his cock and balls. He took it all like the little bitch he was, and amazingly, started to harden.

 

[ericrodman101]

When Gerry finally climbed to his feet a line had formed outside the tiny bathroom which led off the Principal's Office. Gerry had never used it or even seen the door open. It was a one toilet cubicle, he guessed, with a handbasin maybe. The men who'd already fucked Toby's ass, or cum on his face or in his mouth, jostled for position round the door. The scene of grown men pushing and shoving to gain access to a teenage boy, or even just to see inside, was as arousing as it was disturbing. Gerry could see who was standing outside the door which meant Chris Grant and Gabriel Dance, whom he couldn't see must be inside. Pissing on the kid. Fuck!

Everyone seemed to have their cocks out, variously stroking and still hard, or dancing from one foot to the other, waiting impatiently to empty their bladders across Toby's naked body. Gerry pictured the kid propped against the toilet bowl, his back bent, his legs out straight, holding his face up to the men who were assaulting him, unleashing streams of piss into his eyes and his mouth. But then he'd seen Toby like that before. The idea that he was some sort of innocent and exploited victim in all this wasn't quite true. After all, it was Toby who'd stormed into the meeting and accused the chaplain of touching him. And then dared everyone in the room to fuck him. And Toby's performance in Dr Phetmang's toilet and then on the hall rug at home was hardly that of a naive victim. The kid liked fucking and being fucked, he liked pissing and being pissed on. He was as sexually charged and promiscuous as everyone else in the room, just younger, which made his availability and stamina all the more exciting. Gerry was still hard just thinking about it, even without the help of the doctor's little blue pills.

He could hear Grant encouraging the chaplain to 'let loose' on 'the little shit'. Grant and Toby must have some interesting history. Their mutual hostility didn't seem out of character for Toby, but for Grant must be the culmination of some serious self denial and combat over a long time, to be manifesting with such violent enthusiasm.

Grant, then the chaplain emerged from the bathroom, their cocks swinging, shaking droplets of piss onto their shoes and the floor.

"Who's next to piss on the little shit?" Grant called, louder than was necessary. The two men stood aside as two others pushed into the tiny room.

 

[tamgreen]

The showers kept coming. Toby had no idea who was who as he couldn't open his eyes without stinging them. Not all unloaded on him, but he heard enough to be sure that at least most of them were enjoying the show, crowding around the doorway of the tiny bathroom and shouting curses and encouragements like drunk frat guys watching a football game as the next man shouldered his way in to piss all over the teenager he'd just fucked.

In all his miserable life, never had he felt so debased, so used, so humiliated. It made him so painfully hard, and somewhere in the middle of the piss party, he started stroking himself, however tiredly and clumsily. His hand almost moved of its own accord, as if by some primal, visceral instinct. This just caused the chorus above him to get even louder and more boisterous - they couldn't believe that the little shit was jerking off to this. They couldn't fucking believe it. The fucking little slut. The little whore. The little cunt.

They didn't wait for him to finish - his cum wasn't what they were here for. They'd gotten what they wanted, and now that they were truly spent, they started to get dressed and slip away, one by one. It got quieter and calmer, and Toby eventually stopped stroking himself. He just lay curled up on the lavatory floor, squeezed in against the toilet and the wall as the piss of several men dripped off him and slowly trickled down the floor drain.

He was cold now. Naked, cold, used up and discarded. Had Gerry left too? He still couldn't open his eyes. How disgusting he was. Of course, who would stay for the mess now that the party was over? Maybe he could just slip away down the drain with the rest of the filth.

 

[ericrodman101]

After the cacophony of the group fucking, of handing Toby from man to man, of cock after cock sliding into the boy's mouth and ass, of all that loud middle-aged male cumming, the room was suddenly quiet. Gerry's colleagues almost melted away, having drained their bladders onto the kid in the toilet. Chris Grant was the only one who actually said goodbye. Or 'see you at the next twink fucking' as Chris put it. The chaplain didn't even look Gerry in the eyes, but just seemed to dematerialize into the gloom. In what seemed like no time at all, Gerry found himself last in line, standing at the open door of the toilet, gazing down at the mess.

Toby lay against the bowl, his young body bent and twisted. Under the harsh bulb, Gerry could see his matted hair, his skin glistening from the showers of cum he'd endured. The kid was ghostly white, shivering, his skin almost transparent, urine splashed on the walls and pooling on the tiled floor. Standing there, just the two of them, the silence contrasted with the sound of the attack, the men calling Toby names, the insults and obscenities which spurted from them as pungent as the contents of their bladders. Slut. Cunt. Whore. Shit. Words the men had counselled kids like Toby for writing on walls or saying to their parents or teachers or each other.

"Slut. Cunt. Whore. Shit." Gerry spoke them out loud without thinking, an echo of what had gone before, only minutes ago.

Toby had his eyes shut, but almost incongruously, the teen was jerking off. He tugged at his cock, hard, and oddly red protruding from the pasty white body. It was beautiful to watch. Gerry wondered why his colleagues hadn't stayed for the climax. Except Toby's climax wasn't theirs, he guessed. They were spent. Their balls and bladders empty. Their heads full of sordid images. Their wildest, most wanton desires sated. Yet, for Gerry, watching Toby, seemingly oblivious to being observed, bring himself to orgasm, was an almost heroic culmination to the event. An encore. A 'fuck you' to the world of men who used and abused an 18 year old for their selfish pleasure.

Gerry, still naked and full bladdered, couldn't help but tug at his own cock. Did he want to cum then piss, or piss then cum? Did he want to warn Toby that one guy still hadn't finished what he'd started? Or would Toby orgasm and open his eyes to admire his handiwork, see Gerry standing in the doorway, hard cock in hand, and smile, invite his Daddy, verbally or by acquiescence, to piss on him, or cum on him, or both?

And when Gerry had added his fluid to the boy's liquid coat, would they kiss? Fuck? Cuddle? Go home and do it all again? Or had some bridge been crossed and Gerry was just being hopelessly romantic. Toby might hate him, he thought. And why not?

Gerry wanted to piss. On the boy. So bad. So fucking bad.

 

[tamgreen]

The words spoken aloud in the small room hit Toby as if they had been physically spat. Gerry outlined everything he was. Slut, cunt, whore, shit. His entire purpose and value in four crass syllables. Was this the same man who had given him sandwiches one day, called him boyfriend and lover on another day? This man, who had kissed him, watched him fucked and pissed on by a roomful of strangers, and called him shit?

Tears streamed down the boy's face, cutting hot lines down his cheeks and mixing with the piss mess. He sobbed quietly, fully broken, and he couldn't even tell whether these were tears of self-pity, triumph, defeat, or ecstasy. He shuddered on the filthy bathroom floor and kept on rubbing his cock all the while.

"Fuck you," he sobbed after half a minute or so. "Fuck you, fuck you... What the fuck? What do you want? Piss on me, Daddy. C'mon!"

He rubbed at his stinging eyes with the back of his wrist, but that did nothing to clear them. He thought about the emergency eye wash station in the science lab and out of nowhere, started laughing through his tears. Maybe, if he could ever talk to Gerry or look at him again, he could tell him what he'd been thinking of, and they could both laugh.

 

[ericrodman101]

"Fuck you," Toby said, crying. Rubbing his cock.

Gerry knew he shouldn't have said those words out loud. Slut. Cunt. Whore. Shit. What else could they sound like except an insult. Personal feedback. A summation.

"Piss on me, Daddy," Toby said.

Gerry had no time to think things over anymore. He needed to piss. Badly. Toby was sitting there on the floor, looking sexy and used and vulnerable, inviting his daddy to piss on him. There would be time later to talk, to analyze, to go over the evening and decide where to go from here. Assuming there was somewhere to go.

The school counsellor held his cock in his hand, aimed at the boy's face, and pissed. Relaxed his muscles, and let the warm, yellow fluid flow from his cock, drenching the boy, splashing his mouth and eyes, sluicing down his scrawny body, the concave chest, the smooth torso, the hard cock, the slim thighs, onto the floor, mixing with all the other piss and spit and jizz already pooling there under the boys butt and legs and feet.

The relief of pissing kept Gerry speechless. He simply enjoyed the diminishing pressure, the flow through his cock, the splashing sounds, the look of disdain on the boy's face. Could you be pissed on and keep smiling, Gerry wondered. Pissing was sexy, but it wasn't happy sexy. Dirty sexy. Whatever any of that meant.

Gerry's stream was long and consistent. His bladder had been painfully full. If the boy wanted relief from the torrent, he'd have to wait. Gerry meant to drain every last drop, empty himself, shake his cock when he was done, and then get the kid to clean him up with his mouth. Did he have to ask out loud? Or did the boy know him well enough, or know his own role in what was happening tonight simply to comply, simply to understand there were givers and receivers when it came to old men fucking teenagers, teachers fucking students, and Gerry was the giver and Toby the receiver? The way of the world. Strong versus weak. Dominant versus subordinate. Man versus boy. Cock versus hole.

Gerry's stream finally began to subside. He stepped up to where he could bend his knees and line his cock up with the boy's mouth. Tonight was good for the boy, Gerry thought. A lesson in power and roleplay and pleasure. He hoped Toby understood.

"Open your mouth for Daddy," he said.

 

[tamgreen]

Toby definitely felt dirty sexy, but the moment Gerry's piss cooled on his skin, he was going to feel simply dirty. Inevitably after a period of heat and intensity would come cold. Cold reality. The high, and then the comedown. Comedown was always a bitch. Like any other addict, he'd probably tell himself, never again, and then do it all again the next day.

Open your mouth for Daddy.

Of course. He was too tired to do anything other than obey. Pushing against the edge of the toilet to keep himself more or less upright, he opened wide to accept the older man's cock. He tasted piss, cum, and a hint of his own ass.

He was glad his eyes were pretty much plastered shut at this point, because he didn't especially want to look Gerry Metzler in the eye as he sucked his cock clean after this insane unplanned orgy. He didn't want to see the disgust there, or the pleasure, or the shame, or the self-satisfaction, whatever the man was feeling right now.

 

[ericrodman101]

Toby opened his mouth. Gerry would have preferred if the kid had opened his eyes too. Toby had nice eyes, and they looked even nicer gazing up at Daddy while the older man fucked the kid's mouth. But it was not to be. Toby was tired. Gerry understood. And he was a mess. The little voice in Gerry's head kept telling him to think about the boy's needs, but it was drowned out by the loudspeaker in his cock telling him to stick it in the hole.

Gerry shut the louder voice up. Toby obliged, sucking weakly, allowing his daddy to swirl his cock head round the kid's mouth and across his tongue. Gerry felt good to be back where he belonged. In charge. Standing over the eighteen year old. Giving while the kid received.

But he wasn't going to cum again. Fifty three year old cocks were on a tight ration. He was hard enough, but not at full mast. Gerry's body could only manage so much.

And it was getting late. Nearly dark outside. Gerry paused, his cock still deep inside Toby's mouth, his hands behind the kid's head. The school was quiet. Traffic sounds in the distance. It was just the two of them and the godawful mess the other counsellors had left. And that was just the toilet. Gerry dreaded looking around at the state of the Principal's office. He could smell the sex, the piss, the aged testosterone. How much worse must it be for Toby down at floor level?

His cock was softening now, almost completely limp. Fuck you, cock, he thought, willing it to reanimate. Fuck you! Gerry slipped it out and stood before Toby, his cock swinging in the kid's face, the gloom gathering round them.

"You OK," he asked. Toby breathed softly. "Wanna go home?"

Home. Hmmm. The word came naturally. Without thinking. Gerry guessed his place was Toby's home now.

"We gotta clean up this mess, I guess."

The older man turned and stepped out of the toilet into the room. The room pretty much wrecked as he expected. How the fuck did they overturn chairs during the gangbang?

Gerry turned. Toby might need a hand getting to his feet. He went to reach out when he heard someone whistling outside.

 

[tamgreen]

For a few moments, when Gerry's cock went soft, Toby felt like a failure. Soon, he just felt relieved. It was over.

You OK?

Gerry seemed to be making some show of caring now - was it too little, too late? Toby was too scattered to make sense of anything. Home? Did he have one? He supposed he'd go where Gerry took him. He was in no state to be making any decisions.

A sound of whistling interrupted them before they could make an exit or even clean anything up. Toby didn't recognize who it was at first. Not until he heard the distinctive jingling of the keys.

Shit!

This was what could fuck everything up for them. Toby finally rubbed at his eyes and tried to open them. He could only see the rough outline of Gerry.

"Zip up!" he whispered urgently. "If you need to pin this all on me... I'll take the heat."

"What the hell...?" the deep voice of the janitor rang out as he discovered the current state of the principal's office, where he normally didn't need to do anything beyond emptying the wastebasket and an occasional carpet sweep.

Toby watched Gerry, holding his breath to find out whether or not Daddy was going to throw him under the bus. He was willing to be thrown, but he didn't have to be happy about it.

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry was still zipping his trousers when the janitor pushed the door aside and entered the room.

"Aleksander," Gerry said, glad he could remember the man's name. He positioned himself across the toilet door to hide Toby as much as he could. Aleksander Freitas, the janitor looked slowly round the room, surveying the wreckage, a knowing smile broadening across his stubbled face. He took forever, it seemed to Gerry, to take everything in, before he turned back to the counsellor and their eyes met.

"So Mr Metzler," he said in his heavy Brazilian accent, "you've been working hard I see."

"Hmmm," Gerry hesitated. He didn't need to explain himself to the janitor. "I had a meeting of school counsellors here after school, and then just as I was leaving, one of the students took ill in the corridor. He's in the bathroom."

The janitor pushed past Gerry and looked into the room. Toby was dressed and sitting on the toilet.

"He's fine now," Gerry said. "I'll get him home. Will you need a hand with....all this?"

The janitor stepped back from the door, stood, legs apart and arms folded across his ample chest, and smiled.

"So Mr Metzler, you're telling me a teachers' meeting or a sick boy made all this mess. Yes?"

Gerry willed Toby to hurry out of the toilet and leave the room as quickly as possible. He beckoned to the boy with his hand to get out.

"Ahhhh....it was a role play. An interactive session. Something new...."

Why the fuck was he explaining things to the janitor, he thought. The man just stood there, in his blue singlet and work shorts, behind his heavily tattooed arms, legs apart, not blocking the way, but letting Gerry know things weren't right.

"And this...role play...Mr Metzler," he said, looking back into the bathroom and examining the floor, "involved pissing everywhere." The janitor sniffed. "And jizzing?"

He stepped back into the room and looked at the upturned chairs, then back at Gerry, and Toby, who had emerged from the bathroom dressed but disheveled.

"Jizzing everywhere. Is that the right word, Mr Metzler?" The janitor sniffed again, then ran his hand across a stain on one of the chairs, and held his fingers up to his nose. "What sort of role play....come here, boy."

The janitor pointed at Toby who was trying to hide behind Gerry. The older man turned towards the door. "Toby," he said, "come with me."

But the janitor reached out and grabbed Toby's arm, pulled the boy close, then put his soiled fingers first against Toby's nose and then into the boy's mouth.

"Who can you taste, boy? Him?" The janitor looked at Gerry. "Or one of the others?" He bent down and sniffed Toby's hair, then smiled, laughing quietly. "I can smell them on you, boy. Smell their jizz. You," he said, leaning down and licking the boy's face, "are a dirty, dirty boy."

 

[tamgreen]

Roleplay in a counseling session? Who did Gerry think he was fooling? Bless him, the old man was trying. Toby did his best to stand on his own two feet and face up to whatever was about to happen, but he stumbled when grabbed and pulled by the tall, broad-shouldered janitor.

Mr. Freitas was astoundingly good-looking for a janitor. A lot of the students wondered about him. Tattoos were visible when the long sleeves of his coveralls rode up. There were rumors he'd been in jail, and that was why he was doing this thankless, unglamorous labor job. Toby had no idea if those rumors were true, but he'd believe them. The guy was hot, but definitely intimidating.

The janitor's fingers were messy with sticky, congealed cum, and were shoved against his nose and into his mouth. Toby squirmed. He refused to answer the question. He was sure it wasn't Gerry's cum, but he couldn't guess whose. Either way, he wouldn't give Mr. Freitas the satisfaction.

He was unable to keep back a small whimper when the janitor's broad, hot tongue slid across his face, picking up the salty residue of everything that had been sprayed and splashed all over him.

"Yeah, I'm a dirty boy," Toby said hoarsely, his throat already overworked from all the fucking it had endured. "I've entertained a lot of dirty men, and you're the dirtiest of all if you actually want to lick up the mess."

He struggled against the big man's grip again and grunted when it only tightened. He looked over at Gerry, who, as usual, wasn't making any move to help him out. Toby sighed resignedly.

"What do you want? To fuck me? Just get it over with - I'm tired."

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry was dumbstruck for a moment as the janitor licked Toby's face. The kid was obviously tired after being so roundly fucked, but when Toby spoke, he didn't reject the idea of being fucked by the big man, only that it be over quickly because he was tired. Is this where I step in, Gerry wondered? He didn't really know what the boy wanted anymore. Things were so out of control that any idea he once had of being Toby's protector had evaporated. They were now more like partners in crime. Predators and the preyed upon. Although he knew that was simply being dishonest. He was the predator and Toby the prey, however much the kid had come onto him. It's what the law and the teachers' handbook and...well everyone would say. For an instant he pictured himself in the dock listening to a stream of witnesses identifying him as the perpetrator and the evil man who made them do things.

To his surprise the janitor picked Toby up like a child and threw him over his shoulder.

"Mr Metzler, you want me to clean up your fucking mess? Yeah? And in your office? I know what you do in there. I know because I do it too. In my store room. I fuck the boys. Yeah. Like you. Only Aleksander Freitas doesn't pretend to be some hero, some guardian, some professional guy. No. I just fuck the boys."

The janitor turned and walked down the hall, carrying Toby as if he was weightless. Gerry followed meekly, watching Toby's head bobbing against the Brazilian man's back. When they reached the store room, Freitas turned again.

"You wait outside, Mr Metzler. This won't take long. Then you can take your fucktoy home."

The janitor opened the door and stepped inside with his prize. Gerry heard him lock the door behind him.

 

[tamgreen]

Toby was shocked when the janitor tossed him over his shoulder to carry him out, like a fed up parent removing a tantruming child, taking the brat away to where it would inevitably be punished. Toby had never felt so small or powerless. When he realized Mr. Freitas was taking him away, he tried to look around, to find Gerry, to look for help - a way out of this. He was too exhausted, too sore. He was weakened and frightened.

Weak and frightened enough that he had the embarrassingly precious thought of Daddy rescuing him from the giant. Help me, Daddy, save me and take me home!

But it was stupid, very stupid. When had Gerry ever stood up to anyone? He wasn't that guy. He could barely stand up to his own whore wife. Gerry had never been Toby's hero, not really. He wanted to cling to those optimistic threads, but it was just a fantasy. It had always been a fantasy. There was nothing charming in their story. Man fucks boy. Men fuck boy. It was as simple and soulless as a porn video title.

And when he heard what the janitor said, he knew this had to happen. Just like that disgusting cop fucking him roughly in the shed had to happen - Toby was the bait thrown to the wolves, the bribe slipped to the authorities, the lamb burned as a sacrifice. Someone had to clean up the mess, and if they didn't want their world to come crashing down, Toby would have to bend over and submit. They both knew what side their bread was buttered on. Shouldn't Gerry owe him something by now - something more than cum and a shower?

At least Freitas was hot. Toby wouldn't have minded fucking him. Moreover, the man wasn't in denial about what he was - a boy fucker - and it could be a refreshing change of pace from Gerry Metzler, the alleged guidance counsellor.

Toby was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor of the janitor's storeroom. He shot a nervous glance at the locked door that Gerry was on the other side of. This was new, and Toby wasn't sure what to expect. With the cop, Gerry had been here watching, even participating, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. At least if the janitor hurt him, Toby didn't have to lay eyes on the fucking coward standing there like a useless lump, able to lie to a teenage boy enough to convince him he loved him, but couldn't lift a finger to keep him from harm.

"How do you want it?" Toby asked the big man, with uncharacteristic meekness.

 

[ericrodman101]

Aleksander Freitas looked down at the boy lying on the floor of the janitor's storeroom and smiled.

"I want it how it's going to be," he said. "See that camera?"

The Brazilian man pointed to the device on the wall.

"I will fuck you and film you," he said. "So I can enjoy this more than once. Like all the other boys I've fucked in this room."

Freitas pulled Toby to his feet, bent his head down and kissed the boy long and hard, grinding his stubble into the boy's smooth face. When he broke for breath he pushed his fingers deep into the boy's throat, prising his lips and teeth wide apart, painfully, then gurgled in his throat and spat hard into the boy's mouth, before kissing him again. Then still holding onto the boy tightly, he turned and reached for a roll of red duct tape on a shelf.

"This is how I like to fuck," he said, tearing a length of tape and wrapping it round Toby's head, masking his eyes. Then he wrapped a second length of tape over the boy's mouth. Toby seemed too stunned to react, Freitas noted, as he pushed the boy down to the floor again, onto his back before picking his legs up and taping them together at the ankles.

"Now," Freitas said to Toby lying prone on the floor, "we can fuck."

 

[tamgreen]

Toby looked at the camera, shocked. He was going to film it? And watch it later? Would anyone else see it? Would it be used against them at some point? Could he live with the idea of being filmed like this, and knowing that the janitor could put the whole thing on the internet if he wanted to?

But the man wasn't asking, and Toby didn't have much time to think it over either way. It was already happening. The man was kissing him savagely, making it known already how this was going to go down. Toby whimpered, only for a moment, and gurgled as his mouth was pulled aggressively open.

The janitor spat into his wide open mouth. Toby's body jerked. It was shocking. Demeaning.

Bizarrely arousing.

But before he could decide that this might be fun after all, the man was wrapping duct tape around his face. Jesus! He couldn't see, couldn't speak. His cries of shock were muffled by the tape, his breath huffing rapidly in and out through his nose.

He hit the floor hard, and the tape went around his ankles. This was how Mr. Freitas liked to fuck teenage boys?

His breathing was frantic as he writhed on the floor, trying to find some way to gain control of this situation, but soon the janitor was grabbing his arms, too, taping his wrists together, taking away his last scrap of freedom.

All he could do was wriggle and growl. He soon felt the big man climb atop him, felt that rough, stubbled face press into his tender neck and nip at him. Chills crawled across his sensitive flesh. Chills of horror, or pleasure? He was frightened, but his cock was hardening again. Every sensation was magnified now that he was deprived of some of his other senses.

 

[ericrodman101]

Freitas liked how the boy seemed to bend into the situation. Toby was in his power now, to be used and abused at his will. And that stupid counsellor, Gerry Metzler was outside maybe, craning at the door, listening, wondering, imagining, fearing...

He turned the boy over and pulled him up by the hips. The boy bent invitingly beneath him, curved, hands on the floor, taped eyes down, ass up, quivering like a frightened rabbit.

"How does Uncle Gerry fuck you, boy?"

Freitas held the boy with one hand. He pushed the other, thumb first into the boy's raw asshole, spitting to ease the passage. With a thumb inside he could probe and twist, punching hard and deep, feeling the boy flinch and buck.

"On your back or on your front? I bet Uncle Gerry has a tiny cock, yeah? A tiny little cock which barely even opens you up. Not like Uncle Aleksander. Do the other boys talk about me? I bet you can't wait for your Brazilian Uncle to fuck you, boy. After what you've heard."

Freitas spat again and again, until Toby's asshole was running with spit. He withdrew his thumb and replaced it with his fingers, working them hard, gaping Toby, feeling him gasp for breath. The anal passage, angrily red, pulsed back at him. The boy was hard. Freitas could feel his cock against the hand he kept underneath. Hard and leaking precum down his thighs. Freitas leaned down and nibbled the boy's neck.

"Ready boy," he said menacingly, looking back at the camera and its red blinking light. "Ready..."

 

[tamgreen]

The way Freitas called both Gerry and himself Uncle was so depraved - the kind of depraved Toby loved. He could get into this, or maybe he would have been able to get into it, had he not just been fucked by so many different men already this afternoon. His cock was into it, but his asshole wasn't looking forward to the experience. And his brain - who the fuck knew what Toby's brain and his chaotic teenage emotions were doing? He was a walking contradiction at the best of times. He exasperated himself plenty, and he knew he exasperated Gerry. Sometimes on purpose.

Today? Maybe Gerry deserved it. Toby wanted to do more than frustrate the old man. He wanted to make him suffer, make him feel like shit for everything he'd done and everything he'd allowed to happen today. Despite the recent sex, Toby had hardly forgiven him, either for trying to rape him or for letting that cunt Henry Merton grope him in the library. Those were wounds that wouldn't quickly heal.

So it was more for Gerry's sake than for the janitor's that he squealed and screeched behind the red duct tape, making all the noise of protest he could as the big man started to penetrate him with his thumb and fingers. It really was painful and so raw, but Toby played it up plenty, enjoying the thought of Gerry possibly panicking on the other side of the door. It was the one power Toby felt like he had right now.

But would Gerry be panicking? He hadn't seemed to during the cop incident. He'd just glazed over and helped the fucking pig. Gerry got off on the boy being used - maybe he was just jerking off to the sound of Toby's pain. Maybe his only worry was that he'd have to miss out on watching. Asshole.

Toby's hoarse, muffled screams died down to low whimpers. The janitor was taunting him, telling him all about how the boys loved his big cock. Did any boys actually talk about being fucked by the janitor? Toby might know, if he actually had friends. Had Henry been fucked here too? Was Toby just another piece of fuckmeat among many at this godforsaken school? Now that Gerry was no doubt learning this, would he just go find plenty of much easier cunts to fuck than Toby's?

The boy had never felt so disposable. The idea that Gerry didn't actually care about him was the bitterest pill to swallow. Would Gerry even still be there waiting, when Freitas was done?

Toby cried out as the janitor's big, muscular body came for his. Teeth on his neck; his overused ass stretched open again. The pain was outside, inside, all the way through to his marrow.

Please, Daddy, take me home!

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry waited at the locked door. He could hear noises, bumping and knocking, a hint of voices. But the door was heavy and the seal tight. He tried the handle to make sure, but the lock held. Why the fuck was he such a coward? So passive? So utterly inadequate? Toby would suffer under the janitor's attack. He had already suffered. Not sexually. Toby was promiscuous. That was inarguable. The kid liked sex, and liked offering it to men. Men like Gerry. Who paid the kid back by just prolonging the abuse. No, Toby had suffered by being fucked too hard and for too long by too many men tonight. There was a time to stop. To recover. To care. And that time was before Freitas had locked the door.

The older man realized he was tearful. And felt ashamed at being too late. Being an accomplice to Toby's abuse. Jut like with the cop. And the counsellors. And now with the janitor. The kid would hate him. Justifiably so. Any thought of what life with Toby might be, not as a couple, but just as fuck buddies, as people who might give each other pleasure, evaporated.

He banged on the door.

 

[tamgreen]

Toby yelped when he heard the banging. Was it Gerry? Did he want it to be Gerry? Was it some security guard or cop?

Whoever it was, they only seemed to piss Freitas off. Toby felt a bruising grip on his hips as the burly janitor yanked his ass into place. The thick Brazilian cock stabbed into him, feeling like a baseball bat shoved up his ass. He loved and hated it at the same time

He was a fucktoy - there was no getting around it. His status and purpose had been confirmed by every man he'd crossed paths with since this weekend. It seemed senseless to try to deny it at this point. Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't struggle. Not only because it hurt like hell, but because most men wouldn't be as interested in fucking a boy who just lay down on the floor and played dead. Some would, but probably not most. Definitely not Mr. Freitas. Toby knew from the first minute that Freitas liked a fuck that put up a fight; otherwise, what was the point of the tape?

He squalled even louder when the janitor pulled out suddenly, only to flip him onto his side and force one of his skinny legs up in the air, straddling his bottom leg to fuck him at a different angle. If Toby's eyes weren't taped shut, he would have been able to see the tattooed man's devilish expression of relish as he pounded him. Toby tried to wriggle, but he was held firmly in place.

 

[ericrodman101]

The Brazilian janitor felt the boy wince when his teacher banged on the door. It only caused him to punch his cock harder into the kid's sore ass.

"Your stupid fucking daddy out there in the corridor wants your sorry ass too, kid," he said, holding Toby's leg up and opening him wide. "What's his fucking problem? Not enough boycunt tonight? That mess you made in the Principal's office is gonna take me all night to clean up, yeah? So I'm gonna make you pay first for all this work you give your Uncle Aleksander."

He slammed his body against Toby's ass, his cock deep inside the boy, stretching him, pinching the sensitive puckered skin. Freitas spat hard, the spittle sloshing onto his cock and running down to the hole he was making in the boy. He spat again.

"You dry, kid," he said, looking down at where Toby's eyes flashed behind the red duct tape. "Used by all those sad fucking teachers. Used and dry."

Freitas spat a third time, then reached down with his free hand and worked his spittle against his cock and into Toby's ass, his fingers slipping inside the boy against his cock. He liked the feeling of tightness, of being trapped, of being sucked inside, as if he only had to relax and his whole hand might be drawn alongside his cock into the boy's rectum. And he liked how the kid fought against him. It must hurt, he thought. Good.

"I like your spirit, kid. You fight me. Yeah? Fight your Uncle Aleksander while he fucks you."

.............................................................................................................................

Gerry resigned himself to waiting outside while the janitor did whatever he wanted to Toby. He could hear banging and talking, but couldn't make anything out. Maybe there was a key to the door somewhere. The Principal's Office? But how the fuck was he supposed to find it. He banged on the door again to no avail.

The fear he had that Toby was being seriously hurt gnawed at him. Gerry paced nervously, hoping the janitor liked a quick fuck or would tire of the kid. Gerry walked to the end of the hall, trying to get out of earshot of the noises coming from behind the door. But just as quickly he returned. And waited, sitting on his haunches first, and then when his calf muscles screamed, on a chair placed against the opposite wall.

Gerry sat, staring at the door, letting the minutes tick by. And then, when he was losing track of time and imagining the worst, the door spring open. The janitor's head poked round the door frame, then disappeared. As Gerry stood, Toby was propelled into the hallway, naked, bound in red duct tape. The kid fell at Gerry's feet. The older man bent and placed his hands on the boy, tentatively, wondering where to start, words failing him.

The janitor reappeared, tossing Toby's clothes onto the carpet beside him.

"Get the fuck outta here," he said. "You and your fucking boycunt, while I clean up, you filthy fucking pervert."

 

[tamgreen]

Toby was in a haze as the burly janitor finished with him and tossed him out like a used condom. Pain, so much pain. Yeah, that was one fuck too many for sure. He was mostly insensible as Gerry tore the tape off him. The pieces around his mouth came off without too much struggle, now that there had been so much snot and tears running down his face, besides how much he'd been sweating. Gerry's hands were shaky, scrambling to get his clothes back on him (whose dignity is he trying to save at this point?), and get him out of there as quickly as possible, as if the janitor was God and any disobedience might take Gerry out with a lightning strike.

Gerry might have been babbling something at him as he helped him dress and get back to the car. Toby wasn't hearing him. They were halfway back to the old man's house before he found his own voice again. He didn't have his seatbelt on - what the fuck did it matter at this point? - and was just curled up on the front seat, leaning on his hip to take the pressure off his ass, his head against the window and fogging up the glass.

"He filmed it," the boy said hoarsely. "He filmed the whole thing. I dunno what he'll do with it. I might be in porn now. How did this happen? How the fuck did this all this happen?"