The Crew, Part 1

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The Crew, Part 1
C. Charlie - cosmic709@yahoo.com
cceroticstories.blogspot.com
charliessmut.tumblr.com
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I woke up on Sunday morning with a throbbing headache; too much beer and whiskey the night before. I forced my eyes open and rolled over in bed. Empty. That was a blessing. I'd been fucking my ex-girlfriend almost every weekend since we'd broken up. When I got drunk, I usually found her laying next to me the next morning. Without her here, I could recover in peace.

I quickly realized that my refrigerator was empty. I pulled on some pants and walked to the convenience store down the block to grab some milk and shit. As I walked out, I tried to remember the day before. The last thing I could recall was UCLA blowing their game, and me trying to figure out how much money I'd lost.

As I walked up to my apartment building two guys stepped out of a shitty car parked curbside. They were big guys, maybe six three or four, and both looked to weigh at least two hundred pounds. They were young and muscular. I glanced at them, calculated my odds of winning a fight, and decided that I didn't stand a chance with my hangover. I turned toward my building.

"You run and when we catch you we'll break your arms," one of the guys yelled.



I knew they weren't joking. I turned toward them. "Listen, I've got a plan, ok? I'll get you your money. I just need a week or so." I didn't normally plead with people, it's not my style, but though I'm pretty stupid, I'm smart enough to know when I'm in trouble.

"Note's called in, dirt bag," the other guy said, "You're coming with us."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"If you make me chase you, I'm going to make you pay for every drop of my sweat."

I planted my legs and squared my shoulders, trying to look intimidating. "Where are we going?"

"Boss wants to talk to you,” he said. "He's unhappy with your payment plan. Time to work out something new."

I had to give up. As long as these guys weren't going to beat the shit out of me, trying to run wasn't worth the risk. I was fucked, royally, and it was time to pay the piper. I walked toward their car and got into the back seat.

We drove for about ten minutes and then pulled up behind one of the clubs downtown. I was escorted into an office, where a man, smaller than I expected him to be, sat behind a desk. He smiled at me. It was a nice smile, the kind your doctor gives you when he comes into the examination room.

"You owe me a lot of money, son,” he said softly.

I didn't know this guy. I didn't know if he was violent or had a temper. I didn't even know his name. All I knew is that guys who lend money to other guys for sports betting aren't the type to let things go with a quick apology. If I didn't tread carefully, I was going to get my knee caps blown off.

"I had a rough week, but I'm going to stop betting. I'll get another job. I'll get you your payments, and then I'll start on the principle." Then meekly I added. "I promise."

"You don't look like a guy that's used to begging," he said. He stood up and studied me for a minute. I was immensely proud of my body. Standing at six foot one and 190lbs, I was ripped to the tits. A solid summer of work on my shoulders, back, and arms, had given me a perfectly muscular v-shape that tapered down to my tight waist. Tattoos, well planned out in black and red. covered both of my arms down to the elbows and stretched across my left pec. On top of that, I had a pretty nice looking face - angular and lean - with a short hair cut. When he finished looking me over, he stared into my eyes.

"I don't believe you," he said flatly, "All of you guys say the same shit and you never pay up. So here's the deal. I'm going to give you a job. You work for me now. And you're going to keep working for me until you pay back every cent of my money. Got it?"

I looked at him and then looked at the guys who had hauled me in. Was this the kind of work he was talking about? If so, it didn't seem so bad. All in all, the deal seemed pretty good to me. "I got it." I said.

The guy walked back to his desk and sat down. Then he glanced at his thugs. "Take him out to the farm, boys. They might be able to use him there. If not, bring him back and we'll find something else."

Both of the thugs grinned from ear to ear. "Let's go princess," one guy said as the other started to laugh. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back to the car. We drove to the edge of town and pulled off onto a long dirt driveway. The car skidded to a halt outside of a small trailer, and I was lead into a small office. "Sit," one guy commanded as he pointed to the couch. Then he grabbed the bulge in his pocket and showed me the grip of a pistol. "Do exactly what you're told."

I was left alone in the room for about five minutes before a man walked in. He was older, maybe around 45, small with greyish hair. I could have easily taken him if there hadn't been a thirty eight tucked into his belt. He looked at me and smiled.

"So, Vance, I hear you're looking for a job." His voice was fairly high pitched and from the way he was drooling over me, I could tell he was a fag. "Take off your clothes," he said sternly.

I hesitated but then remembered that there were two thugs standing outside the door ready to take me down if I fucked off. I pulled my jeans off and then slipped out of my shirt. I flexed briefly and stared back at the dude.

"All of your clothes," he said.

"C'mon man," I shot back, "What kind of job is this?"

"First, my name is 'sir'," he said calmly, "Second, when you're ten grand into our mutual friend, you don't get to pick your job. Now take off your fucking pants."

I pulled down my boxers. My cock hung soft over my low hanging balls. I'd tamed my pubes, but I didn't like shaving them. I liked having a little bit of a bush.

"Nice dick," he said, "How big does it get?"

"Uh . . . around eight inches." I said with a smile. "And thick."

"Prove it," he said. When I stared at him he growled, "Get it hard. Now. Are you a fucking moron or something?"

I sighed and grabbed my cock. My head still throbbed from my hangover, and I didn't have any fight in me. I pulled on my dick a few times and was hard in thirty seconds. I always get hard fast when I'm hungover, never been sure why. Pretty soon, all eight inches were standing straight up against my flat stomach and  precum oozed from the tip.

"Uncut, huge, and slimy," the guy said. He hadn't taken his eyes off my dick. He walked toward me and put a hand on my well-built chest. I flinched, but didn't pull away. He rubbed me a little and then stood back. I could see his hard dick through his slacks. He was getting off on this.

"You'll do fine. You can call me Mr. Smith. Come back to this place on Thursday at 3 for your first assignment. I'll text you and tell you what to wear. Got it?"

I nodded and he walked out, leaving me standing in my socks with my dick in my hand.

The two thugs walked me back to the car, one in front and one in back. Just before I got into the back seat, the guy behind me grabbed my ass and laughed. "That's a fine ass, stud. Bet you'll fetch top dollar."

The car was rolling down the road as I asked, "What the fuck are you two laughing about?"

"Every fag in town is gonna want a crack at you. You don't look like much of a cocksucker, but most of Smith's guys take to dick like a moth to a flame. Lots of them stick around even after they pay back their principle. In fact, sometimes, if we have an especially good week, the boss lets us have a freebie." He turned and winked at me. "I'm coming to you next time. I can't wait to see those pretty lips wrapped around my piece."

The other dude was laughing so hard he was crying. I stared at him in the mirror. "What's he talking about man?"

"The farm, dude. It's a whorehouse. Smith didn't tell you that? Dudes are going to pay to use your hot body. That's how you're going to make your money back. Lucky for me, Smith said my dick wasn't big enough. First time in my life I was glad I didn't have a bigger cock."

"I'm not sucking any dicks, man. No fucking way," I said.

"You'll do what you're told to do, sweetheart. This is your job now. Best to just accept it."

He shrugged. "Besides maybe you'll be the one getting your cock sucked. Lots of fags love swinging on stud dick. Some of them are probably willing to pay for it."

I stared down at my feet. I couldn't believe where I'd ended up. I was twenty five, at my physical peak, and I'd blown it. I didn't have any money, I owed ten grand to a guy that was probably connected, and I was going to work as a whore to pay it off. Fuck my life.

When I got home, I took a quick shower and tried to accept my fate. If I had to be a whore, I'd be a fucking good one. I'd work all the time to pay off my interest and chip away at the principle. If I worked hard, it wouldn't take long to put this shit behind me.

I forced everything out of my mind for a few days. I'd been doing some landscaping work in the mornings and offered to pick up some extra hours with my boss to pull in more money. Then on Wednesday night I got a text from Mr. Smith. He told me to come to the Farm wearing gym clothes the following day, including a jockstrap, and to be "ready to go." He signed it with a smiley emoji. Bastard.

I drove out to the farm at five and banged on the door of Smith's office. There was no answer. Then I heard a whistle from across the driveway. A big black guy, I mean huge, was standing in the door way of a large barn. He waved me over.

He shook my hand, "I'm Damian, bro. Smith wanted me to fill you in on our operation here."

"Vance." I said. I looked him over. I thought I was built, but this guy was fucking stacked. His biceps and shoulders were huge and his legs were like tree trunks. I'm a big dude, and he dwarfed me. My eyes flashed between his legs and I saw a massive bulge in his grey sweat pants. The fucker was hung like a horse.

We walked into the building. The main room was set up like a big living room with gym equipment along one side. It kind of looked like a club house or man-cave. There was a door marked private in the back.

"So, you know what we do here?" he asked.

"Yeah." I said while looking at the floor.

"Listen, it's not going to be that bad for a guy like you. There's all sorts of gay guys out there with a serious submissive streak. That's what we're here for. We treat them like shit, they suck our dicks, and then we fuck their brains out. Guys like you and me, dudes don't really want to fuck us. Getting a blowjob ain’t that bad, right? Just get out of your head and enjoy it."

"Whatever you say," I said.

We sat down on some couches and shot the shit for a while. Mr. Smith did the bookings and of course he took a cut. Another cut was taken to pay the interest on my loan. About twenty five percent ended up in my hands at the end of the night. Damian, like me, had ended up at "the Farm," by gambling on sports, and he was slowly paying off his principle. Finally he stood up.

"Ok, you got twenty minutes before your trick gets here. This guy is a regular. He likes a guy to feed him his dick. Really skull-fuck him, you know. Take all the anger you have about this whole fucked up situation and give it to him. OK? The more you use him, the more he will like it and the better your tip will be."

"You're serious about this? Like really serious?"

"Yeah, man. You ever wanted to just grab a chick around the neck and shove your dick down her throat? Well, here's your chance."

"Except it's not a chick." I said.

"Minor difference. Go get a pump on. He likes tough guys. Someone will grab you when he's here."

I laid back on the bench and started to lift. Normally that took my mind off of things, but today I didn't have any focus. My muscles filled up with blood as I pondered how bizarre this situation was. No advice, no training - whatever that would mean - no directions. Just go into a room and skull fuck a guy. I didn't even know if or how much I was getting paid.

About five minutes after six, a guy walked into the room to get me. He was slender but in great shape. "Your guy is ready," he said, "I'm Steve by the way."

"Any advice?" I asked nervously.

"Don't be nice to him. He can take it," he said, "Really, don't worry about it. You've got it easy man. You know what guys want to do with someone like me? Trust me, they're not the ones on their knees."

He led me down the hall to a room on the left. I opened the door and it looked just like a hotel room. There was a guy sitting on the bed with a drink in his hand. I was surprised. He wasn't much older than me, maybe thirty, and was wearing nice pants and a white dress shirt. As soon as I walked in, he stood up and looked me over from head to toe.

"They said they had a hot new guy, but fuck . . ."

The way he was looking at me, leering at me like a piece of meat, pissed me off. The situation that I found myself in pissed me off. The room, the cheap motel furniture, the carpet, it all pissed me off. I did exactly what Damian told me, and channeled all of it into this encounter.

"You like the way I look?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"I bet you go to bed wishing you had a body like mine. You're a fucking puny dude, you know that? Why don't you go to the gym?"

"I, uh . . ." he stuttered. Then he smiled. "You're pretty good at this. A natural."

I smiled back. "I don't want you standing in front of me anymore. Get on your knees."

He slid down to the floor and looked at me. There was almost a challenge in his eyes. Damian had told me that this guy was a frequent flyer at the Farm, and I thought that he'd just come and get it. But he wanted me to prove myself.

With him on his knees, I started to feel a tingle between my legs. There was something aggressive about sex and something sexual about aggression. I was beginning to realize that it wouldn't be that hard to convert one into the other. I knew how to be aggressive towards men, I did that all the time. All this required was that I get off while being aggressive. As I walked toward him, I felt my thick dick rubbing against my gym shorts. His eyes were boring holes in the nylon, staring at my bulge as it swung back and forth with each step. I stopped a foot away from him.

"You going to be able to handle this?"

"Yes," he said with a smirk.

"Don't get cocky with me," I said as I grabbed him by the hair. I pulled his face into my crotch and pushed my hips forward. "You want that?"

He groaned into my shorts. I felt his hot breath in between my legs. For some reason, the fact that he was a guy didn't bother me. I wasn't making out with the dude.  It was more like I was beating him up. The only thing that separated this from a humiliating high school beat down was that his dick was hard and his mouth was on my junk.

My dick started to get hard, and this guy kept breathing and rooting around between my legs. I pulled him away again and looked down at him. He looked like a dog waiting for his treat, eyes watery with his tongue lolling out. I smiled and then spit on him. He groaned, "fuck," and then pushed back between my legs. I yanked him out by the hair.

"You don't get that until I tell you. You want my cock, you gotta beg for it."

He started to beg, calling me sir and saying how much he needed my nut. I taunted him for a while, and then stepped forward pushing my dick into his face. I kept walking forward, holding him by the hair and dragging him across the floor until I had his skull pressed against the wall. Then I ground into him with all of my weight.

"Is this what you wanted, you fucking fag? You want my stud dick? I'm not sure you fucking deserve it."

I heard his muffled response and pulled up the legs of my shorts so that my low hanging balls flopped out. They were the size of chicken eggs and hung about four inches down from the base of my cock. The guy made a move for them, but I held him back by the hair. "Just smell them, fag. Smell a real man's nuts."

He did exactly what I said. While he took a deep breath in with his nose pressed into my sack, he looked up at me. His eyes were red and watery, and he looked both pathetic and totally overwhelmed with desire.

"You like that smell?"

"Smells like a man," he said. Then he looked at the floor. "Fucking stud," he muttered.

"Work hard and I'll be your stud. Now lick my balls," I said, "And if you manage to get me hard, I might fuck your face."

For a second I wondered about the rules of this encounter. I mean, could I walk away without fucking his face? I had no idea what the guy had paid for. I was certain that if he didn't get what he wanted, he wouldn't have the balls to disagree with me. Still, he might tell Mr. Smith.

I didn't have to worry about it for long, because the guy had me hard in about thirty seconds. He slurped on my balls like a pro, pulling each nut into his mouth and sucking it away from my body, Then he rolled his tongue around it before letting it fall back out of his mouth. When he was done worshiping each nut, he buried his face in the crease between my nuts and my leg, licking the sensitive skin. I reached down and palmed the back of his head. Then I shoved my body into him, grinding against his face.

When all eight inches of my thick cock were pulsing and dripping, I grabbed onto his head and pulled him over to the bed. I let him kneel there, with his head against the mattress. Then I pushed my shorts down. My cock, the hood still wrapped around my wet head, slapped against my abs.

"Holy shit, man," he said.

I grabbed the base of my dick and whacked him across the face. He winced, and I could tell it hurt. My dick was hard as a baseball bat. I whacked him again and said, "Shut the fuck up and take it."

He opened his mouth, begging to suck it. He was pathetic, but the look in his eyes inspired confidence. This was going to be one hell of a blow-job.

"Get on it." I said.

He took my dick into his mouth and started to suck me off. He was good, real good, and if I hadn't been told to fuck his throat, I would have let him worship my dick for a solid hour. His mouth was like magic on my dick, not too much stimulation, but just enough to keep me interested. I could have let him work me over until his jaw ached and his knees were sore. He kept it up for about five minutes, before he started to lose interest.

I grabbed the back of his head and pushed him down on my dick without warning and thrust forward with my hips at the same time. He gagged and tried to pull off. I held him down until he choked. A big rope of spit draped from my dick to his mouth.

"You better do better than that."

All on his own he dived back onto my dick. This time he took it all down, dropping his fat lips right into my pubes. Jesus, I thought, this guy's got fucking skills. He held himself there for a few seconds, the muscles in his throat milking my thick cock, before popping back up. He took a breath and then went down on me again, slipping right down to the root. This time, I pulled out a little bit and slid back in, giving him a taste of the throat fucking that was coming.

He choked a little bit, and then pulled off. He looked up at me and smiled. His eyes were filled with desire. "You ready?" I asked. He nodded and licked the tip of my dick. "Open up then."

He wrapped his lips around my dick, and I pushed forward, leaning my whole body into him and pressing the back of his head into the mattress. I shoved my cock in, and he, impressively, took it all without a hiccup.

I pulled back out and started to slowly fuck his throat. I gave him a moment on the upswings to take a breath before shoving back in. Tears streamed down his face and dick snot was hanging from his chin. He choked a little bit, but didn't give up for at least thirty seconds. Then I felt his hands on my thighs.

"Get your hands off of me you fucking piece of shit." I growled.

He tried to move them, but his instincts took over, and he pushed me away.

"What, you don't want my cock?" I taunted. I smacked him along the cheeks with my slimy dick, "Too fucking bad. Cause you're getting it."

I put one hand on his forehead and shoved back into his mouth. He opened up and took it all. This time I went easy on him, letting him come up for air while I thrust my cock into his gut.

I had to admit that the guy had me going. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to perform with a man, but my balls were churning and I was definitely going to get my nut. More than anything, I was getting off on shoving the guy around. It was a sexual version of the bullying I dished out in grade school. I was used to being the biggest guy, the strongest guy, and the most virile guy in the room. I had never been able to act out that aggression in the bedroom. Now, I had an outlet, and it was totally awesome. On top of that, I was getting paid to do it.

"Take my dick, mother fucker." I muttered, "Fucking pathetic piece of shit. Paying a stud like me to shove his cock down your throat. You're fucking worthless."

The more I dished it out, the better he did sucking my dick. My abuse was turning him on. He was polishing my knob like a pro now, and I was on the edge. He dug his tongue under my foreskin and ran the tip of the muscle around the edge of my glans. That was that. I passed the point of no return and started to blow my load.

I'm normally the type of guy that likes to pull out and paint a chick's face. I like the look of my nut hanging off of her pretty lips and cheek bones. With this guy, I wanted to send my deposit straight to the bank. I shoved forward and pushed my dick as deep into his gut as I could.

"Here you go, fag." I sneered as the cum poured out of my balls.

He choked as my dick thickened and my cum sprayed out. I held him down for a second, listening to him gag, and then let him off just in time for my second rope of slimy jizz to blast across his cheeks. He had me so worked up that I kept cumming, sending four more shots of cum across his brow and into his hair. As my body slowed down and my muscles stopped contracting, I pulled his cummy face into my groin and pressed my dick against his skull.

Then, as I came down from my orgasm, I pushed him away.

"Hope you liked that, you fucking animal," I said as I looked at him, still fully clothed but covered in my cum, "Tell your fag friends where they can come if they want to blow a real man."

Then I picked up my clothes and walked out of the door.

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Hope you shot your load. Thanks for reading. Charlie – cosmic709@yahoo.com.