I Didn't Now

This happened in my first year of college. I was nineteen.

At breakfast, I couldn't bring myself to look Sammy in the eye after what I had seen last night. I didn't even know what to think at the moment. I couldn't believe what he was doing; coach, too. What the hell were they thinking? What the hell was that? My head was still spinning.

"Not hungry?" Sammy asked, munching on his eggs and bacon as if nothing had happened. "It's really good," he said.

I nodded, faking a smile. "I'm just not in the mood, I guess. I'll eat later before we go out for practice."

"Okay." Sammy scraped his plate clean, and rose to his feet. He still wore his pajama shorts and tank top. "I'm going to go hop in the shower," he said as he left the kitchen.

To that I said nothing. I just remained seated and thought about what I saw last night.

It was bizarre, confusing, and left me wondering how I felt about it.

We were at Sammy's house, doing a little partying upstairs in his room, and around two in the morning we finally passed out. We had been up late drinking beers, smoking weed, and watching basically every bad cop movie that he had in his collection; chilling. But when I woke up early to take a piss, I saw that Sammy wasn't on his bed; he was gone.

Not worrying about it, I climbed up off the floor in my briefs, and sauntered to the bathroom, which was down the hallway from Sammy's room just two doors from the master bedroom when I heard a sort of "slapping" sound.

It was coming from the master bedroom. I noticed then that the door was ajar, and a faint blue light was illuminating from within.

Out of plain curiosity, I checked it out. I thought maybe Sammy was jacking off in front of his mom's computer and thought it would be funny if I caught him in the act.

As I approached the door, I heard a deep voice speaking softly, saying, "That's it, little slave. Just like that. Go deep now girl."

I almost turned around and went back to the room, but then I heard Sammy's sort of high pitch voice, say, "Yes, master. Thank you, master."

Master? I thought. What the hell was going on in there?

I peeked through crack in the door and looked inside. My mouth just dropped.

Sammy's hands were tied behind his back, and he was wearing little white school-girl stockings, a pink thong, and high heels, and he was on his knees in front of our football coach slobbering over his hard cock.

Coach was sat back, completely naked on the computer chair while Sammy's face was buried in his lap, feasting on his cock like a wild animal. I could see everything from my point of view; Sammy's mouth covering and swallowing, bobbing up and down on the long shaft as he whimpered and moaned, in his own little world it seemed.

And coach, breathing heavily, held Sammy's head down, forcing him to swallowing all of his thick coach cock as he fiendishly watched.

The computer screen beside coach played a video of a woman giving head to a massive black cock. Coach whispered to Sammy, "Just like how you see it on the screen, little slave. Just like that. Be a good girl, now."

"Yes, master", Sammy said as he sucked and watched the computer screen, emulating the woman to the best of his abilities.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Sammy was like a pro. He made coach's long, thick cock look like a piece of cake.

I watched, baffled -- Just what in the hell was going on? I thought.

Where the hell did the coach come from, and what the hell was Sammy doing that for?

I was frozen, ogling for maybe less than a minute when I realized my own cock was getting hard. This shit was actually turning me own, watching Sammy's lithe body gyrate in time with his head bobbing, his smooth ass sticking up in the air, his mouth working just like a little slut, slavering over the big man's cock so willingly, and, I'll admit, skillfully.

Rubbing my cock, I started to imagine what it would feel like if Sammy was sucking me off like that...

And that was it. I had to go. I was getting too into it. I scurried back to the room, and climbed back into the sleeping bag on the floor, feeling my erection still hard as a fucking rock.

I couldn't help myself; I masturbated until I filled my briefs with guilty, scalding issue.

Sometime later, though, I heard Sammy sneak back into the room, and climb into bed like nothing had happened.

Now, presently, at the breakfast table, I still couldn't muster up an appetite. I threw my food in the trash, and hurried upstairs to change.

I realized then that I really just needed to go home, and process all of what had happened the night before. I shouted to Sammy who was in the shower that I'd call him later, didn't wait for a reply, and hurried down the stairs.

Coach was in the kitchen drinking from a cup of coffee. "Hey," he said, seeing me heading toward the door.

I stopped dead in my tracks, turning slowly.

Coach was leaned against the counter. He sported tight spandex riding shorts, a tank top, shades on his brown head, and sneakers. His strong arms and legs were undeniable. His mustache rested heavily over his grinning mouth. He eyed me closely.

"Oh, hey, coach." I said shyly. "What's going on?"

"Nothing much, just having a cup of joe. I told Sammy I'd meet you both here for a nice bike ride through the park today. He said he needed a ride today. Are you coming?"

"No, remember, I have that test coming up, and I gotta study tonight," I lied.

"Oh, okay. Alright. We'll catch you later then, my man. Good luck on that test." And that was that. He turned and started to wash out his cup.

"Thanks," I said, turning and heading out the door.

I got into my car and drove home, pondering just what in the hell was going on? Were those two like a couple or something?

Couldn't be, I thought. The man's got a smoking hot wife, and two little kids at home. He can't be gay. Neither can Sammy. I've known Sammy my entire life. He can't be. We've fucked the same girl before, more than once, too.

I was so lost.

I had been driving for about twenty minutes when I realized that I had left my fucking phone in Sammy's room. I had no way to call it and tell Sammy to bring it over later, and I really needed the damn thing. Fuck it, I thought, and turned the car around, heading back to Sammy's -- I hoped he hadn't left yet.

Coach's Chevy Traverse was still parked outside of Sammy's house, and their mountain bikes were still loaded up on the rack on the roof. That means coach was still in the house, with Sammy doing God knows what. I really didn't want to catch them. I wasn't ready for any of this.

I parked, and slowly walked up the driveway just as Sammy and coach came out of the front door, laughing at some joke or something.

"Hey!" Sammy spotted me, and waved. He was wearing a similar outfit to coach who trailed behind him. "You left your phone on my dresser," he said, coming up to me and handing me the smartphone. "You came back to ride with us, or what?"

"No, no, just my phone. I have to study for this test coming up here pretty soon".

"What test?"

"I asked Professor Wilkins if I could retake last week's botany exam, I got a C on it, and he agreed, but if I score lower than he's gonna make me keep that score."

It was a good lie, I thought.

Sammy scrunched his face as if to say, well, that sucks for you. "Alright," he said, "well good luck on that. We're about to head out. There's this mountain trail not far up the road we're going to hit up. Talk to you later?"

"Yeah, I'll talk to you later", I said, turning toward my car.

I happened to glance back, and saw coach looking over his shoulder at me as he pulled open the driver's side door. It was a strange look, but it said something like you know it, I guess. He grinned, and climbed in behind the wheel.

Sammy followed suit, and they started off as I backed out and headed in the opposite direction.

As I drove, I couldn't get the image of Sammy and coach out of my head. Sammy was just so feminine, and, I'll admit, sexy; I've never seen him like that before, actually. He really was so willingly sucking coach's cock with that girly mouth of his, even calling him master while coach called him his little slave girl. He was tied up and everything, and wearing panties and heels.

Something was going on, obviously, but what sort of relationship was this?

Purely sexual experimentation?

Dark fantasies coming to light after years of holding this side of them in?

Damn it - my cock was getting hard again.

I was trying to focus on the road, trying to shake off these thoughts, but they lingered, and pretty soon I was rock hard in my shorts.

When I got back to my apartment, I went straight to my laptop, and found a clip online to masturbate to.

The clip I found was of a beautiful shemale. She was dressed as a house maid in black and white, with five-inch heels, and was bending at the waist as she cleaned.

I started stroking myself slowly...

Then, a tall, strong looking black man appeared in the doorway unbeknownst to her, stood there, and watched her as he stroked a really thick black cock through his business slacks. Her pleated skirt had hiked up slightly to reveal a perfect little ass in black lace panties underneath, as well as the lacy tops of her thigh-high stockings.

My pace had quickened at this point.

The black man came up behind her, and cuffed her suddenly. She turned in a fright at the sight of him. The man didn't hesitate, and the girl yelped as he swiftly spun her around and bent over the kitchen table. He lifted her skirt and spanked her ass with a few hard slaps of his meaty paw. She yelped in slight pain, and right then I could see that she understood who was in charge now.

I was massaging the mushroom head of my cock, still stroking and stroking.

The man then put her on her knees before him, reached into his fly and pulled one hell of thick cock and pressed the head against her lips. On instinct she opened her mouth, and started to give him a professional blow-job.

I wasn't going to be able to last much longer -- so I skipped ahead.

Now the girl was bent back over the table, her panties were now gone, and the man was driving his cock with full force up her tight little boy-hole... Her moans were lustful. Her small cock was flopping back and forth against her stomach and then, after a vigorous couple of minutes - I geysered, shooting hot, scalding come all over the place.

I fell back on my bed in a daze. I had never come to something like that before, and the feeling was amazing. My mind was reeling to say the least, feeling good enough for now...

I was dozing off when my laptop dinged.

I checked, and it was an email from Sammy. I wasn't expecting to hear from him so soon. There wasn't any text.

It was a video.

I opened the link, and I immediately realized that this video was not intended for me. It was meant for coach.

I saw that Sammy stood in front of the webcam, wearing dark lingerie with a matching corset, and G-string panties, and light grey hold up stockings with lace tops, and was shod in a tall pair of black velvet T-strap heels.

His bulge was barely visible under the thin fabric of the lace panties, and I could see that his skin was shaved smooth. His make-up was classy, and lightly applied; there was a little rouge, some mascara, and a light red lipstick. With his hair combed into a dark shoulder length bob, Sammy had the appearance of Japanese school girl.

I hesitated for a moment, but I had to see this. My cock was getting a little hard, too. I had to hit play.

It began with my friend Sammy stepping back, and grinning, and saying, "Hey there handsome! I hope you like what you see..."

Sammy spun around on her heels, all elegant like, and I couldn't help but appreciate her body.

I checked myself.

His, dammit, not hers. That's Sammy. Or at least she looked like Sammy. She was beautiful, I had to admit, and her body was well taken care of; the flat stomach, the long ever stretching toned legs, the narrow waist, and that gorgeous, plump little rear-end...

Shoot! Sammy was posing, and bending, and stretching, and twirling like a real feminine woman.

And again, and this is my friend, and she was getting me going...

I watched as Sammy spoke to the camera: "I was thinking of you, coach," she said. "I thought I'd try this lingerie set on you bought me for the first time. Maybe I'll wear them when I see you again. I'm just gonna mosey around the apartment tonight like this, have a glass of wine, watch a movie, get some relaxation. I miss you. Call me if you get a chance. Bye."

Sammy blew a kiss goodbye to the camera, then hit "stop" and walked away.

Except, that she didn't hit the stop button like she thought she did.

She didn't even realize the video continued to record.

I watched as Sammy, as so natural as in the way I've seen a woman get dressed, lift a black pencil skirt off of the bed, slide into it, and zip it up waist high above her hips. Then, she threw over a sharp collared polka dot blouse, with billowing sleeves, and began neatly tucking it in. She strode a few paces to a vanity mirror, and pulled her black hair back, using a pair of sticks to skewer it in place. And, lastly, she placed a set of wide-rim glasses on her nose, and then turned out the bedroom light.

The clip went dark.

I heard the sound of Sammy's bedroom door opening and closing, and after the sounds of a few dainty heel clicks fade away, not a peep came from the room.

Sammy really had left the camera on; I giggled to myself; what a dork.

For a second there I thought it was a little game she was playing for coach.

But the progress bar stated there was still another full five minutes left on the recording, and so I knew there must be more.

I began fast-forwarding until I saw the lights in the room come back on, and I hit play.

The room was as it was before, but then I heard Sammy yelling off-camera: "No-no-put me down!"

The hell? I thought, sitting up in my desk chair.

Then, I saw Sammy thrown onto the bed, bouncing like a rag doll. She rolled over onto her back, and was staring at someone off-camera. "Please!" Sammy bellowed. "Don't do this."

"Be quiet," a thick accented voice commanded. "Put this on," he barked.

A ball-gag landed on the bed next to Sammy. She looked down at the big red ball, then looked back off-camera. "Please, don't make do this."

"Put it on!" The voice crackled the microphone.

I watched a Sammy did what as she was told, whimpering as she stretched her mouth wide enough to fit the whole ball behind her teeth, and then buckled the belt behind her neck.

"Good," the voice said.

Sammy cowered.

"Now on your stomach. Hands behind your back."

Sammy slowly rolled onto her stomach, and put her palms together behind her back.

What the fuck was this? I thought, as I watched frozen stiff in my chair. This can't be real, can it? Who the hell is that talking to her?

Then.

Two hulking men wearing black masks entered frame, and stood to either side of the bed. One zip tied Sammy's wrists together over her blouse sleeves, then zip tied her arms above her elbows together. The other busied crossing her nylon legs, zip tying her ankles, and her thighs close together.

As the two men stood back, one of them slapped Sammy's thin skirted ass hard! Then again and again until she was squealing and bucking like a little piggie. She kicked her bound legs out, and tried rolling herself away from the slaps.

The men stood back and started snapping pictures of Sammy with their phones.

Sammy moaned through the ball gag, slamming her eyes shut as the cameras flashed. She tried rolling back onto her stomach to hide her whimpering face, but she could barely move tied up hand and foot.

The men laughed and pointed at Sammy, flailing like a fish.

One of them snatched Sammy by her hair, and held her in place as the other moved in and snapped a few closeup shots of her ball-gagged face, and tear-streaked eyes.

She was shoved back onto the bed,

"Time to go", one of them said, walking off camera.

The other went to Sammy and held out a ski mask with the eyeholes sewn shut, and the nose hole cut out.

Sammy's eyes widened, knowing what was to come.

He yanked the mask down over Sammy's face and the ball gag, then lined up the nose hole over her nose to ensure she could still breathe.

Sammy crying all the while, now blindfolded, gagged, and bound - utterly helpless.

The man picked up Sammy like a toy, and threw her over his shoulder.

Sammy bucked, but she wasn't much of a fight as the man held her tight and carried her out of the room.

I was aghast, that old literary term, as I watched this.

I saw that the video was still recording.

I was about to call the police when one of the mask men took a seat in front of the camera, and in a thick, Baltic accent, said: "Sammy is with us now, boy, and we are going to fuck this bitch up all night. You!" he said, pointing directly into the camera. "Sammy's best friend will be joining us shortly. And we will fuck you up, too. We know where you live. If you call police, you will never see your friend again. I promise this".

The video ended.

I was speechless. My face was ghost white. I was shaking.

What the hell was that?

Did I just witness the kidnapping of Sammy?

Was that fake?

No. Right? That couldn't have been fake.

Did Sammy and coach stage a kidnapping? Does that turn them on?

No, that doesn't make any sense. I don't think coach even knows anything about this.

I suddenly felt in the middle of something sinister, like some dark web shit.

Two men just kidnapped Sammy.

The beginning of the video was clearly meant to be seen by coach, but Sammy never got a chance to send it to coach; she was attacked and kidnapped by those men while the video recorded everything. And those men knew they were being recording, but did Sammy? She thought she pressed "stop".

Are they monitoring her computer?

I received the video from whoever those guys were from Sammy's email. They know who I am.

Coach could have never received the dress-up video of Sammy as intended. She really thought she sent the video to coach! But she didn't send it like she thought she did; she just carried on getting dressed.

Should I call coach?

No. I need to leave immediately.

As quickly as possible I gathered up what belongings I could fit into a duffel bag; my ablutionary essentials, a bottle of Jack, cigarettes, and enough clothes for a couple of days. I was going to find a motel away from here, and lay low for a little while.

I left my apartment, avoiding my car, and took a cab; keeping an eye over my shoulder while trying not to appear suspicious to the driver, but I wanted to make sure I wasn't followed.

Thirty minutes later, I was a little further downtown than I had wanted to be, when I asked the driver to drop me off, but there was a motel a block away and it would have to do.

I checked in without a problem, and once I was in the room, and after having a few drinks and a couple of cigarettes, I conceived two logical point of views:

One: Sammy and coach really had concocted some realistic fantasy kidnapping scenario, and it was all part of their roleplaying games. It's not real, and Sammy is fine.

Two: Sammy really had no clue that she left the camera rolling, and, even if she did plan to send a video to coach it certainly didn't include a kidnapping, just dress-up.

That would make it real, and Sammy was abducted.

Plus, the masked man threatened me personally, and never mentioned even knowing anything about coach.

Jesus; I poured another drink; my mind was reeling

I looked at the clock.

It was 930.

I needed to clear my head, and I had noticed a diner just across the street from the motel, and if I was gonna think than I definitely needed something to eat.