Ben Is Taen

I was vacationing in Chicago in the summer of 1975. A hot older man had taken me home from the Gold Coast, the Windy City's hottest leather bar. He and his friend Tom had kept me in different forms of bondage and abused me in adorable ways from Friday night through Saturday evening.

On the way back to my hotel, Tom had used the opportunity of a massive lake storm blowing by, to fuck me one last time in the cab of his truck. Once we arrived, he'd kissed me and given me a dollar bill with his phone number written on it. As I got out of the truck I noticed a big bear of a guy was watching Tom and I. When I walked up to the reception desk, I was surprised to find the same guy standing next to me.

While one clerk dealt with him, Juan, the other night clerk, bustled over to assist me. Earlier that week, when I 'd been checking in, he'd seen me staring lustfully at him and had cruised me right back, grinning knowingly at me in a way that no straight man would ever do. When I blushed like a schoolgirl in response that had only confirmed his suspicions; I was yet another vacationing fag hoping for sex in the big city!

I had good reason for staring since he was seriously hot; about ten years older than me, with dark hair and dark features and a chunky, muscular body. I'd fluttered my eyes shamelessly at him over the next few nights, fantasising about what I imagined must be a long, uncut Latin dick. But it was all to no avail; Juan was sensible enough not to mix it up with the paying guests.

He was just as cool and sexy now; he was one of those guys who looks good in any kind of uniform and this one fit him perfectly. So perfectly that I felt severely underdressed by comparison in my skin-tight jeans and t-shirt ensemble. I was flustered and he knew it, grinning conspiratorially at me while speaking politely in front of his colleague.

"Sorry, Mr. Davis, but while you were away, water leaked overnight from the bathroom above your room. Since we had workmen going in and out, we moved your things to a new room. We'd like you to check that nothing is missing, so do you mind if I go up with you now?"

He picked up my new room key, told the other clerk he'd be away for a few minutes, and led me over to the elevator bank. As he pressed the button for my new floor, the big guy from the sidewalk jumped aboard, and pressed the same button.

As the ancient and awfully slow elevator made its creaky way upwards, Juan spoke to the guy, who he called Mr. Steenburgen, remarking how unusually quiet the hotel bar had been so far that evening. As the guy muttered something in reply, I became uncomfortably aware that the guy was staring remorselessly at me.

"Well, young man, you're getting first-class treatment tonight. A Chauffeur to the front entrance and a personal escort to your room. What do we have to do to deserve that, eh Juan?"

By the time Juan had finished explaining to him that I was being moved to a new room since my old one had been damaged, the elevator he reached our floor. The big guy walked down the hallway alongside us and went into the room directly opposite mine. Once we were safely inside my room, Juan immediately turned to me.

"I don't trust that old bastard. He's a married, retired cop from Milwaukee. He comes here every couple of months and hangs around the hotel bar buying drinks for young guys. The hotel's got a special rate for the military, which means there's always a few boys here on R and R. He gets a not-quite-straight one to go upstairs with him, and if not, he calls a service and rents one.

"Later on, the hustlers have been paid and the others are either too drunk to remember or too ashamed to admit it. Either way no one complains, and I'm the only one who notices. The bar was quiet tonight, but it stays open till two; I just hope he doesn't go back down later on and pick up some other naïve kid."

With that off his chest, Juan asked me to look around and see if the housekeeper had missed anything. I'd arrived with just a small suitcase, so it only took a moment or so to check that my few shirts, jeans, socks and underwear were all there. But some embarrassing purchases I'd made at a sex shop earlier that week were missing; a bottle of lube and some poppers along with two gay mags that featured pix of naked boys in bondage! Noticing my confusion, Juan smiled and pulled open a drawer in the bedside table.

"Looking for these, Benny? The lube and the poppers were no surprise, but those magazines under your socks were a bit of a shock. Thankfully, it was me and not the poor chambermaid who found them. If I'd known you were kinky, we might have had some fun."

Still horny from my fuck session with Tom less than half an hour before, I asked Juan if he wanted to stay and indulge. But he declined, saying he was sorry, but that his co-worker would get suspicious if he stayed away too long. He moved to the door and as he was pulling it open, I repeated my offer, adding that it wouldn't take a minute, since my ass was lubed up and ready to go.

All that earnt me was a grin and a shake of the head. Laughing and calling me a horny slut, he turned away and marched smartly down the hallway. As I closed the door behind him, I noticed that the door across the hallway was slightly ajar, making me wonder if the big guy opposite had heard what we'd said.

I put it out of my mind while I shucked off my clothes and took a quick shower. As I towelled myself dry, I thought about how thirsty I was; not surprising, since I'd had nothing to drink since going to bed twelve hours before. Wanting something more flavourful than tap water from the sink, I remembered the soft drinks machine at the end of the hall.

I didn't bother putting my clothes back on, just wrapped the soggy towel around my waist, opened the door and peeked down the empty corridor. Seeing it was all quiet, I hurried along to pick up a couple of Cokes.

I put the coins in the slot and leant down to pick up the bottle from the tray at the bottom. But when I stood up, I was shocked to find the big guy from across the hall standing behind me, with an empty ice bucket in his hand. I was already embarrassed to be caught wearing just a towel, and he proceeded to make things worse.

"So, first you beg that nosy desk jockey to fuck your faggot ass and now you're parading it down the hallway."

Realising how stupid I'd been, I didn't reply, just pushed past him, and ran back to my room, slamming the door shut, hoping to never see him again.

I plonked myself down on the bed and sucked down one of the Cokes, trying to forget about him and think about the good times with Henry and Tom and fantasize about Juan instead. Since I'd had no chance to cum after Tom had fucked me, I was horny as hell and just as needy, I threw off the towel and took matters into my own hands. But just as I began work on my aching, needy cock, I heard a quiet tap on my door. Since I'd just been obsessing about Juan, I assumed he'd changed his mind and was back, maybe on a break, to take me up on my offer.

I sprang up and pulled open the door, without bothering to wrap the towel around me, only to be faced with Steenburgen, the last person I wanted to see, after the way he'd insulted me. But when I tried to slam the door in his face, he shoved me back into the room and closed the door behind him.

He was a physically imposing older guy, three or four inches taller than I was and outweighing me by a good hundred pounds. He had the bulky upper body and big arms of a retired football player, along with a big beer stomach hanging over his belt. Tufts of dark body hair peeked out above his collar, hinting at the forest of hair that covered his torso. His grey hair was in a crew-cut, and his face was clean shaven with deep brown eyes that stared me down, daring me to object to his sudden entrance.

His fully dressed, overpowering presence loomed menacingly over my smaller, thinner, naked body, putting me at a distinct disadvantage. I asked him what the hell he was doing, but I could tell it sounded more like a plea than a demand. He didn't answer, just smirked and moved closer, even as I tried to edge away. He stopped me with one big hand on my chest and glanced ostentatiously down at the stiff dick sticking out between my legs.

"Well, well, little Miss Faggot's all excited. Looks like she's ready for a good dicking. But Juan's not going to get your ass tonight, fag boy, I am."

He shoved me back up against the door and put his face right up into mine.

"You know kid, given my choice I prefer a virgin straight boy's tight hole, rather than sloppy seconds from a hustler like you. I don't know why Juan bothers to warn guys about me; the straight ones are too dumb or too drunk to know what's going on and fags like you are too fucking horny to care."

The bastard was right. Despite the hateful tone in the guy's voice, I was aware that my cock was doing my talking and it was saying yes. I stopped resisting and stood still, moaning wordlessly as he grabbed my erection. He rubbed my foreskin up and down over the crown, poking the end of his finger into its leaky slit while his other hand squeezed my nipples, still sore from Henry and Tom's tit work.

I let him have his way, egging him on by moaning and reacting eagerly to his touch, even pushing my hips forward in an effort to jerk myself off into his hand. But he brought me to my senses by slapping my balls so hard that I almost doubled over in pain.

"Calm down, you stupid cunt. You're too fucking horny for your own good."

He turned me around, grabbed hold of my left arm and shoved it painfully up my back and then, ignoring my frightened pleas, marched me over to the bed and threw me face-down onto the mattress.

I wriggled around in an ineffectual attempt to escape but stopped when he thumped me on the back of the head, telling me not to move or I'd get hurt bad. I gave up and stopped moving, hoping he was just butching it up for my benefit and wasn't as dangerous as he sounded!

I lay quiet while he kicked off his sneakers and shimmied off his jeans. He grabbed my hips and dragged me backwards until my ass was hanging off the side of the bed and my feet were touching the floor. He hawked up some spit and pressed his thumb into my hole, which told him all he needed to know.

"So, Pussy Boy was telling the truth, eh. Got all lubed up for the john in the truck and you didn't want to it to go to waste? Well, it's just as well you did, otherwise I'd be fucking you dry."

Shoving my head into the mattress to muffle my squeals, he plunged in, causing me to thank heaven for Tom's generous lubing. He had a good-sized cock, but as is often the case, guys don't need gigantic cocks if they know what they're doing. Steenburgen was big enough and vicious enough to fuck the daylights out of me, giving me the first taste of the wild ride that he'd be giving me that evening.

Using the full weight of his big body to keep me jammed down in the mattress, he pummelled away as if determined to beat my sphincter muscles into submission. Once I was opened up, he moved his cock around inside of me, shoving in and pulling out relentlessly, as if determined to hurt me as much as he could.

I hadn't had a chance to say yes or no to any of this and he was keeping me under his control with sheer brute force. But even so, my dick stayed rock-hard; shameful proof, if I needed any, of my submissive neediness.

After a long hard fuck, I was glad to hear the sound of his increasingly ragged breathing, giving me hope that he was close to an orgasm. But instead, he snaked his arm around my neck, pulled my body up off the mattress and held my scrawny self against his massive one.

Holding me tight to stop me wriggling, he twisted his hips and corkscrewed his dick around inside of me, bouncing it off my prostate and causing my dick to leak precum like a tap. Taking hold of my boner with his free hand, he began jerking me off, while simultaneously squeezing my neck tighter and tighter. Finding it difficult to breathe, I panicked and started to claw at his arm in a desperate but ineffectual attempt to pull him off.

While his arm round my throat was making me increasingly light-headed from lack of oxygen, the hand working my dick was getting me closer and closer to orgasm. But just as I was about to go over the edge, his dick began to throb inside me, and I felt a giant load of cum splurge into my guts.

After pulling out and shoving me flat onto the mattress, he climbed up onto the bed and sat with his back against the headboard. I stayed motionless for a couple of minutes, getting my breath back before rolling over onto my side to face him. When I did so, I saw he was flicking through one of the bondage mags that Juan had left on my bedside table. Steenburgen looked over at me with a sneer on his face and contempt in his voice.

"That was quite a show, pussy boy, I thought you were going to faint on me, like some dizzy virgin on her wedding night."

"I wasn't fainting, you were fucking choking me, you bastard. You could have strangled me to death."

"Calm down, kid, and watch that mouth. You should be thanking me for fucking your sorry ass. We both know how much you got off on being squeezed; you would have cum right then and there if I hadn't beaten you to it. Now punk, how about doing something useful; get up here and lick your shit off my dick."

Normally I would have jumped to it; after all, having a stranger force himself on me was a regular jerk-off fantasy of mine. When I played with other gay men like Henry and Tom, I knew that it was just that; a fantasy and the worst would never happen.

But this was different; I didn't trust this guy. He sounded like the kind of angry, married closet case who I always tried to avoid; those who took out their jealous frustrations by being loudly homophobic in public and violently hostile in private. Even though it had been exciting, it had been dangerous enough that I didn't want it to go any further.

Instead of putting my mouth to his dick, I got up off the bed and told him he'd had his fun and should leave. But he just smirked and pointed to a pair of handcuffs sitting on the bedside table, ones that he must brought with him.

"You think you're done because I got off one time? Don't be stupid. You're finished when I say so and not a minute before. We both know you can't stop me from snapping my cuffs on those skinny wrists of yours anytime I like. But I don't need to, because you're going to be a good boy and you're going to do everything I tell you to do. Wanna know why?

I felt my stomach drop as I stared at him in silence, waiting for him to answer his own question.

"I'm retired now but I was on the Milwaukee vice squad for twenty years and I've still got some pals on the Chicago squad who hate fags like you. If I show them the lube, the poppers and these magazines and tell them how I saw you taking money from that John in the truck just now, you'll spend the week in jail on a homo prostitution charge. Understand me, cocksucker?"

Of course, I understood! Like any sexually active gay man at that time, I knew the police were no friends of mine. They took kickbacks from organized crime to keep Mafia rip-off bars in business while entrapping thousands of men across North America on bogus sex charges and encouraging phony pedophilia scares at election time. No wonder Gay Pride marches all began as anti-police protests.

Even back in Toronto I'd heard enough horror stories about the Chicago Police Department to know that I couldn't risk the chance that he was telling the truth, especially since a "morals" charge in the US would fuck up my immigrant status in Canada. I was screwed, both figuratively and literally and we both knew it.

I'd have to do what I was told.

I scrambled across the bed to where he sat with his legs spread wide open and took his cock in my mouth as deep as I could, licking and sucking, and tasting the mix of lube and cum that had been deposited in my ass in the previous hour. I worked hard, trying desperately to get a quick second orgasm out of him, hoping that would satisfy. But he could see what I was doing, since each time I got him close, he'd push my head away and take a short rest before letting me go at it again.

After I'd been working at my own pace for a while, he eventually decided to take control. He pushed me off him, rolled me over onto my back, placed his knees on either side of my head and pushed his stiff rod down my throat. I wasn't sucking his dick; I was getting face-fucked, pure and simple.

Grabbing my hair, he bounced my head up and down on the mattress, while ignoring my muffled squeals. With two hundred and fifty pounds sitting on my chest, it was all I could do to stay calm and keep my throat relaxed, hoping the bastard would have a second orgasm big enough to leave me alone.

However, even though he was clearly aroused and could easily have cum anytime he wanted, he kept on playing with me, not intending to allow me the satisfaction. Instead, he eventually pulled his dick out for a final time and squatted down next to me.

I looked up at him and started to beg.

"Hey man, I'm all fucked out. You've done me in. I'm hurting. I've had enough. Let me go and I won't tell anyone about any of this, OK?"

Even as I blurted that out, I could tell how stupid it sounded. Who the fuck was I going to tell and what would I say? It was my word against that of a retired cop, and of course something was perfectly obvious to both of us; my own body had betrayed me all along.

"Well, well, look at that. La-de-da Miss Faggot says he wants me to stop but his cock is saying please. Get over yourself, whore; that mouth and that arse are mine and we both know it."

Which was true. I had to admit that I was getting off on being controlled. When I said nothing in reply, he smirked in triumph and got up off the bed, grabbed hold of my balls and squeezed tight, then slapped me so hard across the face that I tasted blood in my mouth.

When I still said nothing in response, he grabbed my ankles, dragged my body to the edge of the mattress and spread my legs wide apart. Staring straight into my eyes, he shoved his hips forward and blindly stabbed his dick into my crack, quickly finding the hole it was seeking and plunged straight in without a stop.

Just like he had an hour earlier, he used his cock like a battering ram, stabbing in and out and corkscrewing around inside of me, fucking me carelessly and viciously. He pummelled away at my prostate, making my hard rod leak precum like a tap, putting the lie to my claim of being "fucked out".

At first, I kept my hands down at my sides and tried not touch my cock, determined not to humiliate myself by showing him how hot I was getting. Keeping myself from jerking off was difficult, but I wanted to retain some semblance of dignity, though that resolution went out the window the moment I felt him pumping his second load of the night into me. I began frantically jerking my cock, only to have him grab hold of my wrist and pull my hand away, just as I was about to explode.

I lay quiet as he pulled out slowly and loomed over me, smirking down at me. I was shamefaced at my own weakness, seeing how easy it had been for him to get me excited.

"Cunt claims he's all fucked out, but all you have to do is shove a dick up his arse to see what a liar he is."

He got off the bed and stood waiting in the middle of the room.

"Come on cocksucker, my dick needs that mouth."

I scrambled reluctantly off the bed, sank to my knees in front of him and took his dick in my mouth, thinking he wanted me to clean it off. But instead, he kept a tight grip on my head as my expectant mouth closed around his softening cock, making me quickly realise what was on the way. Sure enough, a short, steady stream of his piss soon filled my mouth and throat. He seemed surprised at how eagerly I swallowed it all, but I was a regular piss drinker, in contrast to the drunken straight boys who must have been shocked!