Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
To say I am a shy guy would be an understatement. Without benefit of a roadmap for self esteem, I shrink from most social activity. Feeling that I do not fit in actually makes it so. Guys like me turn to our imaginations a lot. We begin to admire, then to idealize, other guys we believe are at the top of their game. They seem to exude confidence. They are quick to make friends. Their bodies are physically attractive. It's not a stretch to start fantasizing about them...to wonder what it would be like if they would hit on me. Of course, none of these thoughts can ever get out of my head into the real world! My game is set. I play straight by default - no way to change that? Doing my best to not get caught staring is becoming very difficult. The gym showers. The beach. Bike riding with the guys half naked on the hottest day of the summer.
"Last one to the trees sucks cock!" Trace and Brogan take off like the wind, laughing as they look back at me still pedaling at a crawl. How I got to hang with these two is a story unto itself. Suffice to say that it pleases them to hang with what they perceive to be a nerdish pussyboy. Little did I know the true intent and plans behind their 'friendship' for me. But I was soon to find out.
"On your knees, Corn Dog!" That's their pet name for me. My parents had the brilliant idea to name me after some famous rich dude. So I carry his name. The burden is all mine. I am Cornelius Plumber, 'Corn Dog' or 'Corny' for short.
"You guys cheat up the wazoo. You were half way down the trail before yelling out that the race was on. Come on. Give a guy a chance!" I am totally out of breath after trying my best to catch up with them...and just maybe not be 'last', as always. We are all dismounting our bikes. T and B (my shorthand for the two of them - they are inseparable) watch as I continue to catch some breath - bent over at the waist with hands on my knees and looking up at them. They are smiling, and obviously enjoying this.
"Wouldn't be fun if we didn't stack the deck, dickhead. Did you bring the snacks like we said?" I was...'asked'...to bring snacks and drinks along for the ride. So the three of us are sitting on this bench big enough for two; and jamming cake and drinks into us. The guys are fit. Very fit. Even so, after riding for an hour, they have joined me in feeling the burning need for refreshment. I sit between them. With the confidence of the young bucks that they are, T and B are ready to quench their appetites for something other than food. My eyes have been drifting downward to the growing bulges in their bike shorts since we sat down. They may have lingered there a bit too long.
"What are you looking at, faggot?" Teasing with sexual innuendo is the hallmark of these two. At 18, each of us is a timebomb of testosterone fueled cravings. They express theirs freely. I hide mine.
"Nothing." Caught. Have to get out of this.
"Bullshit, Corny! You're drooling - and not from the snacks. You want this, don't you!?" Trace is grabbing his bulge and giving it a gentle shake.
"I think he may be ready for his first lesson, Trace" Brogan and Trace are leaning in to each other, almost meeting in the middle of the bench - right in front of my face! I do not like the tone of the talk. My stomach is tight. The guys are looking around like they are spies or something. My bike is close by. This might be a good time to just get up and...
"Oh, no. We're not done, are we T?" Trace just shakes his head. He is looking at me with a predators stare. There is no compassion or friendship in his look. I am well aware that we are alone here in the woods. The 'race' ended in an isolated part of the park, hardly ever visited by anyone. In this heat, at this hour, we have not seen another soul, not since starting our ride.
"Time to pay the losers price, Corny." Now I am really afraid. But if I show it, it might fuel their actions. Trace has a hand on my shoulder; and Brogan is clamping down on my thigh like he is about to eat a chicken leg. Maybe humor will...
"Okay. Okay. I'll suck you off for Peat's sake. Lord knows you both have boners already!" My laughing is not met with their own. Instead, they just stare at me. Next thing I know, I am being lifted by the pits up and over the bench and down onto the tall grass. On the ground and looking up, all I can see is T and B coming at me like wrestlers intent on pinning their prey.
"He looks cute this way, eh T?"
"On his back like a pussyboy should be. Yeah. Cute." It's all a joke. It has to be.
"Okay. Let me up, guys. You win. I've been had." They are not moving. Trace is behind my head, holding my arms. Brogan is in front of me, siting on my hips. Obviously, I can not move. Brogan looks over at Trace. He is nodding. Now he is looking into my eyes, and his look is not a friendly one. It is filled with a kind of raw masculine intent. He is just staring into me.
"We know you want this, Corny. You've been hoping this would happen. Say it. Say you want this!" I am paralyzed and without speech. My mind is not my own to control. I am kind of shocked to feel my head bobbing up and down in the 'yes' motion. Then it all goes down.
Part 2 -
"We knew it, didn't we, Trace?" Brogan is smiling.
"You were right to have him tag along, B. I can't wait to share my 'friendship' with his mouth!" Truth be know, I can't wait, either. Nothing these two can say is hurting my feelings. I know my place. I know what my role is. They have no idea how much I need them to liberate my own desires. My long game has always been to make it with one of them. To have them both like this is beyond my dreams. But this is not the time to let on. This is the time to play along and get them really heated up.
"Guys. That's enough. You're not going to hurt me. You're good guys!" My voice is appropriately shaky as I blurt this out. It has the desired effect.
"WHACK!" Okay, I did not expect that. My face is stinging from Brogan's slap. My eyes are fixed on his; and he does not seem remorseful. Not one bit.
"Shut the fuck up! Take it like a man - even though we know you want it like a pussyboy does." How right he is. This is really starting to go my way.
"Me first, T." With that, Brogan is rising up, and he is quickly undoing his belt and zipper. His shorts are falling to his knees. His briefs are chock full of an excited and bloated manhood; leaking precum into already wet and stretched-out fabric. They quickly join his bike shorts at his knees. He is sliding up to my head; his thick muscular thighs are clamping my cheeks like a vise. One hand is fisting his tool - eight inches of pure joyfully rigid boyhood. There is a thick string of precum hanging down from his cockhead, so close...so close.
"Lick it, Corn Dog. You want this." I do. And I do. The string is on my tongue now. It is sweet. It is very silky. I love this!
"That's enough guys. You win. Let me up now, or I'll..." Got to keep my game going.
""WHACK" This time it is his cock doing the slapping. I want to laugh out loud and ask for more...but instead...
"Oh, God. Don't do this! I'm begging you both. Let me up and I won't..." With one swift push, and a moan, Brogan is sinking his rigid staff past my open lips, over my tongue, and deep into my salivating mouth. The warmth of his rod is exhilarating. My tongue wants to dance all over it; but I better wait a bit for that.
"That'll shut you up, faggot. Suck it. You're nice and wet in there, Corn...do me proud, and suck the cream out of my nuts for me. Be a good little cocksucker and maybe Trace will ride your face next. You'd like to have us both, wouldn't you!?" Time to give in.
"Mm Hm," He gets the message. He is lifting his head to look at Trace. I can tell that they are sharing big smiles over their 'conquest'. I am also a winner. They'll find that out soon enough. Turning the table will be lots of fun.
Part 3 -
"Getting close, Corn. Damn your tongue is magic! You were made for this!" The scent of Brogan's moist crotch, especially after an hour of bike riding, is pungent. It fills my lungs and my senses; and I love it. No need to keep up my charade of fear. I am getting all that I want and need from these two. They will soon find out just who rules and who pays.
"Bang him good, B. Lube him up real good for me. I need his hot throat all over my stick. Gonna fill that boy with a sticky load! Come on, B, do it already. I need this, too, you know." And so do I. And so do I!
