Hot Summer Night at the Beach

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

Sitting on the ground with some privacy granted by the picket fence, John seemed to be resting comfortably, snoring lightly, but not loudly enough to attract the attention of anyone passing by. I hadn't seen or heard anything more from Bert and his girl, whom I suspected might very well be a local. In fact, I think she may be a waitress at one of the local bars just off of the boardwalk. Bert may have been hitting on her and kept drinking until she got off work.

I had not seen Bert earlier in the evening when I had observed several of his friends. He was a bulkier type, not at all overweight, but more the quarterback or rugby type. Maybe a wrestler as well, as was John, but of a heavier weight class. From where I sat I could see the front door and while I hoped he would be left alone soon, not just because he was of interest, but there were other fields to mine inside as well. This woman that returned with him could spoil many plans.

Well, in the meantime I could enjoy a few more of John's treasures while I waited. The pillow I had placed earlier under John's abdomen gave just enough elevation for me to reach around his waist and unfasten his belt and chinos. Rocking his hips slightly from side to side I was able to work his pee (my pee remember) soaked slacks down his legs. Oh why not, I went ahead and removed his shoes and slowly started to peel off his socks, reveling in his personal manly smell that exuded from them. Lifting first one leg and then the other the chinos were now off and tossed to the side, for the first time I had John naked from the waist down. There was no muscle tone. I could lift his legs, move them side to side and he still showed no reaction. He still had not a clue of what a traitor his body had become.

Moving the pillow just a bid lower hiked his cute bubble butt up in such an inviting way. I just had to start by running both hands over these globes and slide my palms slowly down his peach fuzz covered legs until I at last worked my fingers between each of his toes. He was mine and his body had no intention of allowing him to interfere.

He continued to breath with just a light rattle now and again assuring me of the level of his consciousness. Working my way back up his legs I separated them just enough to have a clear view of his cock and balls lying under him between his legs. He was soft for now, but that would change as I started to massage his prostate.

First I had to get a direct whiff of what was trapped between those beautiful cheeks. Separating them gently, slowly, but surely I opened a path large enough to get my face close up to his virgin pucker. I nudged it with my nose. I drank it all in.

It was not necessary to have him in constraints fighting me. I knew, even then, what I would later document for the military. Just how demoralizing being taken down sexually could be.

Women who have been raped have dealt with this for years. Silently, often for their entire lifetimes. Some of this has now started to become public. But, if you think women were silent, that is nothing next to a man that has been taken. Some people insist that women bring it on themselves, tempting, teasing, becoming an attractive nuisance, as insurance companies label such things. Then the women are led to even believe it. A man, most would insist can not be raped.

The man that has been raped, doubts not only why this would happen to him, but the very core of his masculinity. He too wonders, and at times believes that in some way he wanted, attracted this, but NO, that can't be, he's straight, pure heterosexual, he's been programed that way from the beginning. Rough tough, a man, in charge, in control.

This led to the research that I did for the joint commission of the armed forces. They paid me to take a dozen of their toughest soldiers from each branch, Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines and do comparison studies. I had free reign to place them in P.O.W. conditions and to try anything to break them while leaving no marks and no broken bones or physical injury.

The soldiers had to volunteer for the project, with the understanding that it would be treated as a top secret project and to divulge any of what went on or that the research had even been conducted would be treated as treason and dealt with accordingly. So, as you can imagine, those that volunteered, considered themselves the best. Invincible. They would learn differently. I broke the best of them.

My reports, all marked "EYES," proved beyond a doubt that sexual vulnerability, even if it was purely psychological was the best tool. Starting with sleep depravation, repeated action, scripts read by sweethearts, parents, siblings and then played back at crucial moments to undermine will power, were all part of the scenario. You may recognize some hints at the techniques in news reports today. Think again when you hear the denial of using sleep depravation, etc.

But, I digress. This story at hand is at least ten years earlier, and my professional research could be several series in themselves. The military studies might interest you the most. That unique blend of chain of command, patriotic purpose, military machismo, pride of the particular branch of the service, etc. Not only did I receive a healthy fee paid by your tax dollars, but all expenses were covered above and beyond that. The cost of having unique tools, of my design, made to order not to mention facilities and staff was prodigious. All of this, under the shield of military secrecy.

Despite the tight control of national security, none of the staff knew anything that was not on a "need to know" basis. Each person had such a small piece of the puzzle that it meant nothing to them and certain strategic pieces, I alone conducted.

Perhaps in the future I will reveal the differing response time between the Marine and the Navy Seal when differing levels of stimulation were applied to the prostrate through a but plug. All in the interest of science, you understand.

Let's return to John. He's waiting for us. The one benefit of retelling the story is that only in this genre can time truly stand still. Not a millisecond has passed for John as I've been spinning yarn, and John is no nearer to consciousness than when we left him.

Until earlier this night, it is doubtful that even a finger had violated his sphincter. Perhaps a doctor had insisted on a prostrate exam before football, but you may be sure that he put up a fight over that. Working first one finger in as before I decided the time had come for two fingers and as I probed deeply, I was glad that the pillow gave his manhood room to grow without too much discomfort.

You can imagine that after the amount of stimulus so far this night, I was ready for some release myself. All had been quiet for some time, John I decided was to grant my relief. Opening my trousers, but leaving my belt fastened, I pulled out my near bursting member. I lubricated it as well as I could with precum and saliva and was glad that I was fit enough to not just collapse on John, but maintain control.

Slowly I placed the head of my cock against the virgin pucker and ever so slowly I was admitted where none before me had gone. With my weight supported by my arms to either side of his shoulders, my only direct contact was to that hot center of his being. Moving very slowly, as much to prolong my own pleasure as to prevent his sudden awakening, I worked my way in until I eventually pushed up gently against his buttocks with my groin. I could hardly stand it. Just a few strokes and I would lose it. I drank in all of the ramifications as I enjoyed every sensation and thought.

It did not take much and finally I allowed myself the release of all the tension that had been building in me, since my first sight of John on the boardwalk with his friends. As punctuation to my last full thrust, I exploded within him and the front door opened. I would have needed to move to the side quickly anyway as I was spent and my arms where shaking at this point. All the more so now as I needed to direct my full attention to what would happen next. I could hear the door close.

She returned in the same direction from which Bert and she had come before. She didn't look around, but went directly. As I composed myself I started to think ahead and realized that I must use the few remaining hours before daybreak wisely if I was to realize the full potential ahead. Not that the night couldn't have ended right then and I would have considered myself very fortunate, but who could pass up four more young men just ripe for picking? Not I.

To be continued...