Thursday, July 9, 2009

Up ahead . . .

It's a STOP sign. OH NO. Don't worry, a stop sign is just a suggestion, unless there are bunch of policemen about, or you value your life excessively. Either one.

Actually, it's Jill and Jill II, hopefully. Jill has been published for quite a while, Jill II is about a quarter of the way done. When I get time to work on it, I will. After that I plan to finish Tom's Testicle II. And THEN, well, I guess it's on to knew things. I don't want to be like Blizzard and get stuck only having 3 ideas, which are repeated endlessly (Warcraft, Starcraft and Diablo).

Therefore, suggestions are welcome.

(M/m) A work in progress

This is a story I'd started along time ago, but when I got to the section end, simply didn't feel like continuing. Normally I like my stories to long and fulfilling, but this one already seemed to say what the point was. So, I *might continue it at some point, but not unless I see more plot in what's already written.

The Plantation Resort – Part I (?)

From the vantage point of Brad’s private Leer Jet, the island looked like a moldy standing rib-roast, its sharp mountain peaks green with lush vegetation and wreathed in a heavy, somewhat cold looking mist. The plantation/resort that he would be spending the weekend at filled up most of the island’s lowlands, and it was to the small airport that his plane navigated.

Brad unbuckled himself and went into the airplane’s small bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was very average looking, not too tall, and in only average condition. He had dark brown hair, speckled blue eyes, and a relatively clear complexion. Still, he was 23 and still a virgin. Why? Well, for one thing he was into men, but moved in social circles where homosexuality was considered uncouth. And second, his sexual tastes were, well, to put it delicately, somewhat extreme. But he did have one thing going for him, he was the last surviving member of a very, very, very wealthy American family, and now that his father had passed on, he was going to have some fun. He was going to this remote, extremely exclusive resort to have a ball. A REAL ball, and Brad couldn’t wait!


Brad walked alongside the guide who had met him at the resort foyer. They passed a few of the rooms which held the men of the plantation, where supposedly inside each suite waited one of 357 ultra hot guys, each supposedly willing to let a paying customer do anything they wanted to them. Anything.

“Anything?” asked Brad, still disbelieving what the guide was saying.

“But of course. From the most violent things you can think of, to the most perverted sex imaginable, to the most amazing conversations on anything. If you want to chop off their dick and fry it in garlic, they’ll not only beg you, they’ll figure out the sexiest way to do it. Snuff, torture, anal, oral. Anything.” The guide continued to point out the guy’s pictures as they walked by the rooms.

“I’m uh, into ball busting, testicle torture . . . that kind of thing,” admitted Brad shyly.

“Oh, that’s an easy one. Have you ever popped a guy’s testicle before? No? But I bet you’ve imagined it, yes?” The guide watched as Bradley blushed. “Not to worry. By the time you leave on Sunday, I can guarantee that you will have burst at least a dozen pairs of testicles that belong to some of this planet’s hottest guys. And every one of them will beg for it. You’ll see,” said the guide with a kind of knows-better-than-you smugness.

Bradley started to get a hard on right then and there (one which ended up lasting the entire weekend).

When they reached the foyer, the guide motioned for the bell-hop to take Brad’s luggage up to the suit, and then turned to Bradley, handing him a pamphlet.

“As you know, we breed all the men and boys here to exacting specifications. Perfect bodies, perfect sexual technique, and perfect compliance. You can have as many of them as you can pay for, and as you will see in the pamphlet, we have all body types, looks and stats. When you’ve had time to settle into your room, just ring the concierge and book your first. Our boys are bred and trained with the highest attention to details. Details such as YOUR pleasure and happiness, so don’t be shy. Any fantasy you have will be theirs to deliver. Splurge and live the highlife.”

The guide looked down at his clipboard. “Hmm. I see you’ve got more money that some small countries, so take your time. Even though everyone only gets one weekend per year here, I’d be quite pleased if you can beat our current record holder with 38 males used and abused past recognition.” The guide smiled at Brady, the glint of avarice in his eyes.

Brady was so elated, that all he could do was nod enthusiastically and continued to blush.

The guide turned to a young porter, an athletic young man with close-cropped brown hair, dreamy eyes, and who was probably no more than 16 years old, standing at attention by the front desk. “Take Mr. Morgan here up to his room, and see that he is . . . . made comfortable. I’m classifying him as BBTT.”

The extremely handsome young porter nodded, and came up to Brady. “Sir,” he said, “if you’ll follow me, I’ll see that you start off the weekend with a bang.” The porter then took Brad’s hand in his and let him up the banistered staircase towards the awaiting luxury suite.

When they reached the suite, the young, lithe porter swept open the doors dramatically, unveiling an unbelievably spacious apartment, sumptuously appointed, and bearing the furnishings and amenities of not only the finest hotels Brad have ever been in, but even some of the best mansions. His luggage had already been unpacked and put away (which was amazing since it had only be sent up several minutes before), and to Bradley’s even greater surprise, the young porter walked to the foot of the king sized bed and began to undress. In next to no time, the young, slim yet muscular brunette, whose smooth body was equal that of any Olympic swimmer, was naked and he beckoned Brad over.

The porter took Bradley’s left hand and brought it up to his two dangling nuts so that Bradley could grope them. They were generously sized, relaxed and completely loose in their pendulous sack.

“Do you like them?” asked the teen serenely, as he looked fully into Bradley’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” grunted Bradley as he, for almost the first time in his life, had the opportunity to play with another guy’s balls.

“In that case, I want you to destroy them. Kick me between the legs. I’m totally defenseless. Hit me in the balls with your fist. I won’t stop you.. Do whatever you want to them.” The sincerity in the young man’s eyes was enough to make Brady start leaking precum

“I can really bust you? For reals? I . . . I wonder what it will feel like.” stammered Bradley. His groping of the handsome lad’s two large eggs became more forceful and urgent.

“Why don’t you kick them and find out?” The naked young man placing his hands on his head.

“They’re totally defenseless. Just think how much damage your foot could do to them. Your fists alone could pulverize them to jelly. Your knee could turn me into a eunuch in such a quick time that you could be on to your first boy in less than 20 minutes.” The boy gave Bradley a steady, sweet smile.

That smile let loose something purely wild and vicious in Bradley, something he’d been suppressing but also nurturing for years and years. His first knee jerk to the porter’s balls knocked the kid onto the bed. The next forty knee drops, grinds and slams came so fast, so furious, that not a single sound escaped the young man’s lips. Bradley was shouting sexual abuses at his victim, whilst taking out a lifetime of sexual tension on the two jiggling nuts. Over and over his rock-like knee jammed itself between the porter’s legs; no rape threatened cheerleader ever did so well as Brad did to pulverize a young man’s sex life to mush.

After he became slightly fatigued with the leg work to the open crotch, he began to vary his technique, and for a while he just bounced up and down on the boy’s left testicle, his knee planted fully on the onion-like organ, feeling it flatten under his body weight. Then he switched to hitting it them both with his balled fist. They slipped this way and that under his pistoning hand, and he realized that their mobility made it difficult to really damage them in a permanent way. However, this mobility gave him an idea.

Swooping down between the porter’s legs, Brad sucked in one swollen testicle and began pulling on it and shaking his head like a dog, his incisors clamped to the ball’s cords. He was going to use his teeth to Burdizzo the boy’s nuts (a device and process he’d read about in countless ballbusting and castration stories). Harder and harder he bit down on the boy’s right ball-cord with his front teeth, and continued to shake and pull on the scrotum vigorously., which made the boy’s rock hard penis waggled this way and that, apparently appreciating the experience. It only took about three minutes of this before Brad felt the egg sized testicle come loose in its sack, and he knew he’d just half castrated the boy, and the boy knew it too. But the porter didn’t complain. He was apparently in the throws of sadomasochistic pleasure, and instead was just groaning “My nut, nut.”

Brad, however, didn’t even care if this young guy was enjoying the experience or not, and immediately sucked in the other ball, this time trying to chew the cord apart through the scrotal skin. His left cheek bulged with the huge testicle inside his mouth, and he gnawed with the right side as hard as he could. The boy’s spermatic cords didn’t stand much of a chance against Brad’s million dollar capped teeth. Soon there was a snapping sensation in his mouth, and the second testicle detached itself from its owner. Brad shoveled the newly independent organ around in his mouth with his tongue, and marveled at his power over it and over this young man.

Eventually he let the whole ball-sack slide out from his mouth so he could reposition his body to lie fully between the boy’s legs. He spread those sweat-drenched legs apart, and reached down to squeeze the two nuts he’d just severed. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. Unlike his own, whole nuts, which he knew the limitations of quite well, these two freed jewels could be squished around and twisted and rotated any way he wanted.

While the boy moaned in ecstasy and pain, Brad swapped the positions of the two testicles completely. Then he made them stand end-to-end in the scrotum, and then he rotated them so that their epididymi were exposed. He then squeezed the rotated balls into one big package with his left fist, and started punching these two balls into mush with his right. Amazingly, it didn’t take long to accomplish. Brad might not be an athlete, but he was still a man, with strong arms and solid fists, and those two solid fists did their best to pulverize the nuts trapped between them.

Soon the two orbs were soft and squishy, and just to make sure he’d done a thorough job of nutting his first guy, Brad lustfully sucked the whole scrotum up, with its softened balls, and ground them between his molars, feeling them eventually pop completely flat and go slack in his mouth. For nearly a minute, Brad just suckled on the boy’s mushed junk like a baby, seeing how far he could swallow it.

Brad spit the ball-bag out and looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes had elapsed since the invitation to burst the boy’s berries. ‘These people really know their stuff,’ he thought.

Brad got up off the bed, and noticed a wet spot on the front of his slacks. He’d creamed in his own pants without realizing it, and yet . . . he was still rock-hard. Walking over to the table, he picked up the giant listing of all the men available, and riffled through it quickly. He picked out a really tall 20-something white guy with dark hair, big loose nuts and a huge, extra fat dick, and then picked up the phone and dialed zero.

“Operator,” he said, “I’d like to schedule my first man.”

“Yes, sir,” said a sultry male voice on the other end. “What is his ID?”

“Uh, TL-76,” replied Brad, glancing at the listing.

“Any specifications for his appearance or attire?”

“Yes, I want him naked, in white socks, sitting bound up, in a chair, and blindfolded.”

“Of course, sir. Any special instructions I should give him?”

“I want him to turn me on and get me off while I crush his nuts.”

“Excellent. Please proceed to the 10th floor, room 46. Will there be anything else?”

“Yes, I’m done with the porter.”

“Very good sir, please proceed. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Brad put the phone down, and left the suite without a backward glance to the passed-out porter. He was someone else’s’ problem now.

Update - what am I doing with my time

So other than endless work, my minimal free time is now spent "world building". This is the process by which fantasy and sci-fi w...