Friday, November 28, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
You killed Gary!
You might not recognize him with shoulder length hair, but Gary Daniels is the guy getting his neck snapped between Don The Dragon Wilson's legs.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Dascascos...um.... Dacascos....er.... Dascasos anyway
1 of my all-time guillotine snap favorites at about 5:00.
Getting his neck snapped so you don't have to
The fucking hottest guy around has a particular need to be humiliated and get his neck snapped. He does it over and over again, naked, and on film. You want him to send you some of his explicit photos? Let me know, and I'll hook you up.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Jason Statham
At 3:00 snaps the neck of a hunky flight attendant. Kind of fast, and a weird angle, but my mind keeps going back to it.
New clip
Two of the hottest guys you'll ever see fight to the neck-snapping death. (At about 4:30, if you'd like to skip the random mayhem)
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
skinny nerd gets it
skinny nerd taking a kempo karate class pisses off his sparring partner and gets his little neck snapped after class
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Yeah... do it! Snap that frat boy's neck!
Sidewalk encounter with drunk guy on leave. Wish he'd been just a little more fucked up.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
At the workshop
When I went to the Terminal Combat Training Center, I didn't know my best bud would be an unasked volunteer.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
First part of a story
A restaurant I worked at several years ago:
There were 5 waiters: 2 of us, including me, gay, 3 straight.
There were 5 kitchen staff: 4 Arabs, 1 Israeli
First the waiters: Two of them, Harry and Chad were over six feet tall, both high school football stars, muscular, handsome, cocky, hairy chests… the other- Glen- a shorter, leaner Greenpeace-loving guy, but he had to have been even stronger, he had smooth skin, sensitive eyes but round shoulders and biceps that beat both the football stars and both of us gay guys when we’d armwrestle after work. He was always a little embarrassed that he always won. The other gay waiter, Nate was about 5’10”, handsome with a thick neck and veiny forearms. I was, and am a lanky 190 lbs.
The kitchen staff: 4 Arabs, all hyper-masculine, 3 of them hairy with mustaches- the two chefs were both 6 foot exactly but one Zihar was the thickest guy there, his arms were as thick as my legs, the other Nazir was lean and mean as fuck, all muscle but his biceps came out of nowhere, his neck was thicker than his head.
The other two Arabs were the owner’s brother, J.,the oldest there at 43. He gave everyone shit when they goofed off. J. was a ladies man and never let anyone forget it. He always wore his shirts open and wore a gold chain, pretty face, tight pants, lighter brown hair. The last Arab, Abdul, was a half-pint, smaller than everyone there, younger too, maybe 16 but with a nice body he worked on hard. He had a little beard. He was Zihars half-brother. No love was lost between them.
Now the Israeli… David. David was a little psycho, but he was usually so quiet that you’d never know. But if you were ever alone with him, and maybe if he’d had a beer or two after a shift, he’d start talking about what he’d do to any of the Arabs if he ever got them alone away from the knives. David was a busser, trash guy, he had the keys to the place because the owners brother J was always cutting out early to leave us alone after the dinner shift. He had pussy lined up.
David had the toughest, most muscular body I’d ever seen in person. His body was hairless, he had the face of an angel, full red lips, sensitive eyes, a little beard and mustache, and soft curly black hair. He wore what was issued him: a thin cotton short sleeved shirt and loose k.p. pants. His arms were veiny and his biceps and shoulders were so round they would split the seams of his cheap shirts.
There was always a lot of aggressive horseplay, usually after the owners left, just after the last diners.
Zihar would often pick gay Nate up under his arms and lift him over head in a military press. Nate would just hang there and they would stare at each other, Zihar saying something in Arabic. Nazir laughing at it.
But we all victimized that boy. No one left him alone. Even the half pint kid, 16 years old would put Nate in a sleeper to impress his older brother. The other waiters just humiliated Nate verbally, except Glen the Greenpeace guy who was naturally accepting and tolerant.
Once, when Zahir was behind the stove, Nazir took a tablecloth from the linen closet and wrapped it around Nates neck. With muscles coming out of nowhere he hefted Nate up effectively hanging him.
The Arabs all laughed at it except for the owners brother who made them put Nate down.
One night when everything seemed to go wrong at dinner, and we poured ourselves shots to unwind, the armwrestling and horsing around went on for a couple of hours. The waiters were taking their time setting up for the next day. Nate had disappeared.
I was pissed off that he had left all the work for the rest of us and I went looking for him. I found him in the office.
Nate was sucking Zihar’s cock and was being fucked from behind by the thin, vascular Nazir. They were talking to each other and making signals with their hands. Zihar looked down at Nates head bobbing on his cock and made a signal to his buddy. A head grasp, neck twist. Nazir said something and then mimed garroting Nate. I watched hidden in the doorway to the storage room.
“Do you know what they are saying?”
It was David. His shirt was off. David mimed with his incredible 16 inch biceps and cantaloupe shoulders…”Zihar says he will snap Nates neck when he comes, kill the faggot….Nazir says that Nate will bite off his cock if he snaps his neck. Nazir says instead he will strangle him to death from behind while he sits on his cock.”
When David made a strangling motion he flexed every muscle in his arms. It was almost enough to make my already erect cock explode.
“Fucking Arabs. Such hypocrites. Kill the faggot. After I come in him.”
“You think Nate knows they are fantasizing about snapping his neck?”
“It doesn’t sound much like fantasizing.”
I stared. My mouth opened involuntarily.
“What are you gonna do? Try to save him? Either one of them could rip you in half. You don’t know what they did before. They were in the Army. “
“Like they killed guys?”
“They point to one of you waiters and say, I snapped the neck of an American that looked just like that.”
“You think they did?”
“That pussy Nazir is obsessed with snapping necks. I think he did. I know he worked for American companies as a translator. I think he might have taken out a few guys when he could.”
I had a tent in my black work pants.
“You like that? You want part of that?… maybe you could get your ass plugged too. I’m going to get some smokes. Try to stay alive, okay?”
When David was gone, I went back to the dining room where the other waiters were drinking and folding napkins.
Zihar’s little brother Abdul was armwrestling Harry. Harry had his sleeve pushed up and Chad was pointing at it, shouting “Look at that! You can’t beat red-blooded American beef!”
Abdul was getting mad. Losing and being taunted by both of them was making him falter, making him curse. His small tennis ball bicep was bursting with veins.
“Give up, before you crap your pants,” Harry said, laughing.
Abdul reached over with his free left hand and slap/punched Harry in the face.
Glen, the Greenpeace guy, tried to jump in and urge calm. Chad gave an inciting yell. Harry and Abdul faced off. Abdul yelled something in Arabic and Zihar and Nazir came in the dining room. They were just in time to see Harry level Abdul with a roundhouse punch.
Zihar ran towards the action, but Chad waylaid him. They rolled to the floor. They were the two biggest and almost evenly matched, except I guess Chad had never killed a guy, he was just a suburban football jock.
Glen was divided between the two fights, trying to get a hand in and pull them apart.
Nazir, looking happy as he could be, jumped Glen.
Harry lifted Abdul up from the floor by his head. Zihar shouted something like “You hurt my little brother…” but was pinned down by Chad and couldn’t get free. Abdul shouted back, sounding like he was getting control, his arms worked furiously, his muscles were pumped as full as they could go, punching Harry wherever he could. Harry yelled in pain. Abdul yelled like he was winning. Harry twisted his whole body with the 16 year olds head still in his arms.. but the kids body didn’t follow… not the way it should. Harry snapped it. Snapped Abduls neck. I saw Harrys face … he knew what he was doing. Abdul yelled… was cut short, gurgled… his tongue fell out. His eyes were wide with surprise.
“Zihar… I didn’t know… FUCK!” Harry said.
Zihar screamed and with almost superhuman strength flipped Chad onto his back cradling him in his own body. Nazir screamed. Chad screamed “No!” seeing Abdul for the first time. Seeing the lifeless eyes of the little brother of the muscle-bull behind him. I think Chad knew. We all knew. Chad just said, “Please, no…” and looked like a scared little boy when Zihar snapped his neck.
Harry seemed to have the wind knocked out of him by that and began to run. Nizar gave me a look I can’t describe except as murderous. He kneed Glen in the face, knocking him out and grabbed Harry’s ankle as he ran past.
Zihar and Nazir then were both were on Harry. Nate, just fucked by two of them came into the dining room with unzipped pants.
“Nate what the fuck are we going to do?”
“Shut up,” he said. He stroked his cock while the Arabs shouted right in Harry’s face.
The back door is heard slapping shut. J the owners brother walks in with his arms wide.
“What the fuck!”
He sees Abdul’s head, the angle wrong, eyes staring at the ceiling, tongue out. Chad’s cheek on the floor his body facing the ceiling. Chad’s eyes were staring at me, still like a boy’s, sad.
Nate backs into David who has just materialized without a word. J is pulling the cooks off Harry. They are all yelling. Unnoticed David strips his shirt off. He slides quietly up behind J. Nate gives me a look of astonishment.
David, a few inches shorter than J, reaches up and swiftly, expertly twists J’s head. We all stop when we hear the high whimper and the snap.
Head falls to hairy chest, cheek on gold chain. J falls. Zihar and Nazir are stunned.
“They fucking killed Chad,” Nate yells to David. “Those fucking Arabs snapped his neck.”
Zihar stands. He knows that he can kill Harry at any time, but David is not to be put off. Zihar looks at David’s smooth hugely muscled body. Zihar has 6 inches in height on David.
“You ready for this?” Zihar asks. He strips his own shirt off. He is built like a tank. “You been wanting this?” then Arabic.
“Fucking kill all of them” Nate yells. I don’t know what to do. I am hard as a rock. I just want to watch.
Glen stirs, pulls himself up.
“We have to get the fuck out of here,” he says to me.
Nazir and Harry are trading chest punches as challenges. Harry: I will fucking kill you too, get the fuck away from me.
Nazir: I have snapped more handsome American boy’s necks than you can imagine. I can tell them a joke and slap them on the back and snap it while they still laugh. You have no idea what I have done for my people.”
Glen walks between the two pair.
“I am getting the fuck out of…”
Nazir grabs the hippie muscle boy by the bicep, “Wait, Glen… I’ll go with you.”
I look at the big hard forearms on Nazir and the long ropy biceps, the way he holds Glen’s arm. I know something is wrong.
“No Nazir….fuck…no…”
Glen could see in Nazir’s eyes what we all knew.
“Just let me…”
“I want to show your friend Harry something my brothers taught me when I was just 120 pound kid.”
“No, man… I just…”
Glen struggled to break away. We were all watching, even David and Zihar.
Nazir swept Glen’s left knee to drop him. Glen grabbed Nazir’s neck. Harry moved to help.
“Stay there,” Zihar said.
Nazir broke Glen’s tenuous hold and pulled Glen’s chin to one side to get his back.
It was swift and stylized, Bruce Lee might have taught him. One hand on Glen’s chin, the other grabbing the hair at the crown of his head. Glen was letting out a high-pitched scream, a plea, his arms up his hands reaching behind him grabbing at Nazir’s head. You could see those big hippie biceps, but they were useless when Nazir with maniacal delight on his face, pulled in opposite directions. Harry leapt just as we heard the crack and saw Glen’s surprise as his chin flew over his shoulder. Nazir’s palms were out like a magician’s.
Harry was on him. Zihar was right behind to grab Harry. David had his cantaloupe bicep around Zihar’s neck and pulled him back. It bulged- even under the chin of the huge Arab, you could still see the round mound of it.
Zihars tongue bulged out of his mouth. It was faster than anyone could have expected, a very slight fast motion, almost imperceptible except by the effort in the grimace on David’s face, and that thick Arab neck snapped louder than all the others combined. David gave a victory scream.
“Fuck, yeah..” Nate said at my side.
Now it was just Harry and Nazir. David… and us.
There were 5 waiters: 2 of us, including me, gay, 3 straight.
There were 5 kitchen staff: 4 Arabs, 1 Israeli
First the waiters: Two of them, Harry and Chad were over six feet tall, both high school football stars, muscular, handsome, cocky, hairy chests… the other- Glen- a shorter, leaner Greenpeace-loving guy, but he had to have been even stronger, he had smooth skin, sensitive eyes but round shoulders and biceps that beat both the football stars and both of us gay guys when we’d armwrestle after work. He was always a little embarrassed that he always won. The other gay waiter, Nate was about 5’10”, handsome with a thick neck and veiny forearms. I was, and am a lanky 190 lbs.
The kitchen staff: 4 Arabs, all hyper-masculine, 3 of them hairy with mustaches- the two chefs were both 6 foot exactly but one Zihar was the thickest guy there, his arms were as thick as my legs, the other Nazir was lean and mean as fuck, all muscle but his biceps came out of nowhere, his neck was thicker than his head.
The other two Arabs were the owner’s brother, J.,the oldest there at 43. He gave everyone shit when they goofed off. J. was a ladies man and never let anyone forget it. He always wore his shirts open and wore a gold chain, pretty face, tight pants, lighter brown hair. The last Arab, Abdul, was a half-pint, smaller than everyone there, younger too, maybe 16 but with a nice body he worked on hard. He had a little beard. He was Zihars half-brother. No love was lost between them.
Now the Israeli… David. David was a little psycho, but he was usually so quiet that you’d never know. But if you were ever alone with him, and maybe if he’d had a beer or two after a shift, he’d start talking about what he’d do to any of the Arabs if he ever got them alone away from the knives. David was a busser, trash guy, he had the keys to the place because the owners brother J was always cutting out early to leave us alone after the dinner shift. He had pussy lined up.
David had the toughest, most muscular body I’d ever seen in person. His body was hairless, he had the face of an angel, full red lips, sensitive eyes, a little beard and mustache, and soft curly black hair. He wore what was issued him: a thin cotton short sleeved shirt and loose k.p. pants. His arms were veiny and his biceps and shoulders were so round they would split the seams of his cheap shirts.
There was always a lot of aggressive horseplay, usually after the owners left, just after the last diners.
Zihar would often pick gay Nate up under his arms and lift him over head in a military press. Nate would just hang there and they would stare at each other, Zihar saying something in Arabic. Nazir laughing at it.
But we all victimized that boy. No one left him alone. Even the half pint kid, 16 years old would put Nate in a sleeper to impress his older brother. The other waiters just humiliated Nate verbally, except Glen the Greenpeace guy who was naturally accepting and tolerant.
Once, when Zahir was behind the stove, Nazir took a tablecloth from the linen closet and wrapped it around Nates neck. With muscles coming out of nowhere he hefted Nate up effectively hanging him.
The Arabs all laughed at it except for the owners brother who made them put Nate down.
One night when everything seemed to go wrong at dinner, and we poured ourselves shots to unwind, the armwrestling and horsing around went on for a couple of hours. The waiters were taking their time setting up for the next day. Nate had disappeared.
I was pissed off that he had left all the work for the rest of us and I went looking for him. I found him in the office.
Nate was sucking Zihar’s cock and was being fucked from behind by the thin, vascular Nazir. They were talking to each other and making signals with their hands. Zihar looked down at Nates head bobbing on his cock and made a signal to his buddy. A head grasp, neck twist. Nazir said something and then mimed garroting Nate. I watched hidden in the doorway to the storage room.
“Do you know what they are saying?”
It was David. His shirt was off. David mimed with his incredible 16 inch biceps and cantaloupe shoulders…”Zihar says he will snap Nates neck when he comes, kill the faggot….Nazir says that Nate will bite off his cock if he snaps his neck. Nazir says instead he will strangle him to death from behind while he sits on his cock.”
When David made a strangling motion he flexed every muscle in his arms. It was almost enough to make my already erect cock explode.
“Fucking Arabs. Such hypocrites. Kill the faggot. After I come in him.”
“You think Nate knows they are fantasizing about snapping his neck?”
“It doesn’t sound much like fantasizing.”
I stared. My mouth opened involuntarily.
“What are you gonna do? Try to save him? Either one of them could rip you in half. You don’t know what they did before. They were in the Army. “
“Like they killed guys?”
“They point to one of you waiters and say, I snapped the neck of an American that looked just like that.”
“You think they did?”
“That pussy Nazir is obsessed with snapping necks. I think he did. I know he worked for American companies as a translator. I think he might have taken out a few guys when he could.”
I had a tent in my black work pants.
“You like that? You want part of that?… maybe you could get your ass plugged too. I’m going to get some smokes. Try to stay alive, okay?”
When David was gone, I went back to the dining room where the other waiters were drinking and folding napkins.
Zihar’s little brother Abdul was armwrestling Harry. Harry had his sleeve pushed up and Chad was pointing at it, shouting “Look at that! You can’t beat red-blooded American beef!”
Abdul was getting mad. Losing and being taunted by both of them was making him falter, making him curse. His small tennis ball bicep was bursting with veins.
“Give up, before you crap your pants,” Harry said, laughing.
Abdul reached over with his free left hand and slap/punched Harry in the face.
Glen, the Greenpeace guy, tried to jump in and urge calm. Chad gave an inciting yell. Harry and Abdul faced off. Abdul yelled something in Arabic and Zihar and Nazir came in the dining room. They were just in time to see Harry level Abdul with a roundhouse punch.
Zihar ran towards the action, but Chad waylaid him. They rolled to the floor. They were the two biggest and almost evenly matched, except I guess Chad had never killed a guy, he was just a suburban football jock.
Glen was divided between the two fights, trying to get a hand in and pull them apart.
Nazir, looking happy as he could be, jumped Glen.
Harry lifted Abdul up from the floor by his head. Zihar shouted something like “You hurt my little brother…” but was pinned down by Chad and couldn’t get free. Abdul shouted back, sounding like he was getting control, his arms worked furiously, his muscles were pumped as full as they could go, punching Harry wherever he could. Harry yelled in pain. Abdul yelled like he was winning. Harry twisted his whole body with the 16 year olds head still in his arms.. but the kids body didn’t follow… not the way it should. Harry snapped it. Snapped Abduls neck. I saw Harrys face … he knew what he was doing. Abdul yelled… was cut short, gurgled… his tongue fell out. His eyes were wide with surprise.
“Zihar… I didn’t know… FUCK!” Harry said.
Zihar screamed and with almost superhuman strength flipped Chad onto his back cradling him in his own body. Nazir screamed. Chad screamed “No!” seeing Abdul for the first time. Seeing the lifeless eyes of the little brother of the muscle-bull behind him. I think Chad knew. We all knew. Chad just said, “Please, no…” and looked like a scared little boy when Zihar snapped his neck.
Harry seemed to have the wind knocked out of him by that and began to run. Nizar gave me a look I can’t describe except as murderous. He kneed Glen in the face, knocking him out and grabbed Harry’s ankle as he ran past.
Zihar and Nazir then were both were on Harry. Nate, just fucked by two of them came into the dining room with unzipped pants.
“Nate what the fuck are we going to do?”
“Shut up,” he said. He stroked his cock while the Arabs shouted right in Harry’s face.
The back door is heard slapping shut. J the owners brother walks in with his arms wide.
“What the fuck!”
He sees Abdul’s head, the angle wrong, eyes staring at the ceiling, tongue out. Chad’s cheek on the floor his body facing the ceiling. Chad’s eyes were staring at me, still like a boy’s, sad.
Nate backs into David who has just materialized without a word. J is pulling the cooks off Harry. They are all yelling. Unnoticed David strips his shirt off. He slides quietly up behind J. Nate gives me a look of astonishment.
David, a few inches shorter than J, reaches up and swiftly, expertly twists J’s head. We all stop when we hear the high whimper and the snap.
Head falls to hairy chest, cheek on gold chain. J falls. Zihar and Nazir are stunned.
“They fucking killed Chad,” Nate yells to David. “Those fucking Arabs snapped his neck.”
Zihar stands. He knows that he can kill Harry at any time, but David is not to be put off. Zihar looks at David’s smooth hugely muscled body. Zihar has 6 inches in height on David.
“You ready for this?” Zihar asks. He strips his own shirt off. He is built like a tank. “You been wanting this?” then Arabic.
“Fucking kill all of them” Nate yells. I don’t know what to do. I am hard as a rock. I just want to watch.
Glen stirs, pulls himself up.
“We have to get the fuck out of here,” he says to me.
Nazir and Harry are trading chest punches as challenges. Harry: I will fucking kill you too, get the fuck away from me.
Nazir: I have snapped more handsome American boy’s necks than you can imagine. I can tell them a joke and slap them on the back and snap it while they still laugh. You have no idea what I have done for my people.”
Glen walks between the two pair.
“I am getting the fuck out of…”
Nazir grabs the hippie muscle boy by the bicep, “Wait, Glen… I’ll go with you.”
I look at the big hard forearms on Nazir and the long ropy biceps, the way he holds Glen’s arm. I know something is wrong.
“No Nazir….fuck…no…”
Glen could see in Nazir’s eyes what we all knew.
“Just let me…”
“I want to show your friend Harry something my brothers taught me when I was just 120 pound kid.”
“No, man… I just…”
Glen struggled to break away. We were all watching, even David and Zihar.
Nazir swept Glen’s left knee to drop him. Glen grabbed Nazir’s neck. Harry moved to help.
“Stay there,” Zihar said.
Nazir broke Glen’s tenuous hold and pulled Glen’s chin to one side to get his back.
It was swift and stylized, Bruce Lee might have taught him. One hand on Glen’s chin, the other grabbing the hair at the crown of his head. Glen was letting out a high-pitched scream, a plea, his arms up his hands reaching behind him grabbing at Nazir’s head. You could see those big hippie biceps, but they were useless when Nazir with maniacal delight on his face, pulled in opposite directions. Harry leapt just as we heard the crack and saw Glen’s surprise as his chin flew over his shoulder. Nazir’s palms were out like a magician’s.
Harry was on him. Zihar was right behind to grab Harry. David had his cantaloupe bicep around Zihar’s neck and pulled him back. It bulged- even under the chin of the huge Arab, you could still see the round mound of it.
Zihars tongue bulged out of his mouth. It was faster than anyone could have expected, a very slight fast motion, almost imperceptible except by the effort in the grimace on David’s face, and that thick Arab neck snapped louder than all the others combined. David gave a victory scream.
“Fuck, yeah..” Nate said at my side.
Now it was just Harry and Nazir. David… and us.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
More from the L.C.C.
They must figure out something is happening to their friends.” I was in the combat instructor’s van, we were smoking weed. Not the best journalistic ploy… but… “Was there ever a rebellion? Was there ever an escape?” I asked him.
He laughed, put his hands behind his head like he was sitting on the verandah and told me this story:
“There was a huge black guy, a fugitive, his name was Jemal…God knows where they found him. Or why they thought he could be taken out by anyone. Any of the sort of regular guys they get here. I mean, he was six foot of muscle and pissed off at everything. Never should have brought him here. Never. Must have picked him up in an alley, passed out. Jemal starts trying to escape right from the get go. Second or third night here. He breaks out…gets through the sentry at the perimeter. Easy. But the thing was, that guy, the sentry was the only other black guy here, and the only guy that Jemal would even talk to. We find this poor fuck, I mean he was a tough fuck but couldn’t have fought Jemal five seconds, we find him the next morning hanging from the fence by his neck. Must’ve strangled him with his shirt and then hung him. Fucked up, right? Jemal makes it to the road and jacks a VW van. We figured they must have pulled the van over to look at the engine… you know just thought ‘let’s pull over and fill up the radiator’ because… 1: after he offs these 2 guys the van doesn’t get him ten miles, and 2: if you were driving and you see this big fucking black killing machine hitching there looking like he just took his shirt off and strangled a guy and hung him from a fence, you don’t stop and say ‘Hop in’.”
“So there’s some scrub stomped down.. we look in there….you never seen anything like it. We find the late driver and passenger of the van, two white boys, college, probably pulled into the weeds by their long hair. They were head to head. The younger one, smaller one had his back broken, and had been hand choked. You could still see the handprints on his neck. The other, could have been his big brother was on his stomach, pants down, neck pulled back so he stared at the sky, fucked, raped. Figure he let the little brother watch with a snapped spine while he raped and snapped the neck on his big brother, then killed the boy after. This guy was nasty. We caught up with the van, like I say about ten miles later.”
“There are about 8 of us. I’m the best fighter, but this guy Kyle was just about up to my standard. We catch up to Jemal. He turns and looks at us. Bounces his pecs and laughs at us. Then Jemal fucking rushed us. He grabbed Kyle and held him up against his body, facing us. That wasn’t the smartest negotiation tactic… ‘You back off or I’ll snap his neck,’ Jemal says.
“What’d you do?”
“Shot him with tranquilizer darts, but Jemal snapped that terrified Kyle’s neck. Just tightened up his grip as he was holdin’ him. He went down… with this boy buried in his chest. You know he had biceps like bowling balls and they seized up, pulled that terrified boy’s neck up hard against his chest. Fucking guy might have had his head crushed in between those pecs.”
“We pulled Kyle out of Jemal’s arms, heard the neck crack again. Then we moved Jemal like a lightly sleeping Grizzly. Took him to the basement of the main house where they had set up a cage. And they kept him caged, at least as long as they could. He got his hands through the bars about up to the wrist where his forearms bulged out and he somehow tricked the stupid little guy we had guarding him up near, reached through, grabbed his shirt and lifted him up crushing his larynx. Anyway, pretty soon after that they put him in an exhibition fight. Jemal against Bear, who used to do my job.”
“Who won?”
“Bear was a mountain. You ever see that wrestler Goldberg? He was like that. Shaved head, all neck and lats. That is one neck no one is going to break. Jemal stayed in it for a good 3 or 4 minutes but he was starved and dehydrated. He looked crazed. He got a good bicep clamped across Bear’s face once but Bear just picked Jemal up… like a doll you know. Bear lifted him up, dropped him across his knee, pushed him to the ground and folded him backwards, Jemal screaming and crying. Snap, snap, snap screaming and screaming…. snap. I heard four snaps. Last one was his thick neck. That’s when Jemal stopped screaming”
“Now Bear…that was muscle, cause Jemal was all muscle. You know, he should… should have been called… he looked more like a silo than a bear. Massive fuck.”
“So what happened to Bear?”
“This is a peculiar place. You get peculiar types, I mean, some guys are here for their jobs, some not.”
He looked at me as though asking which I was.
“Bear not a consummate professional?’
“Bear was a straight guy, ex-wife, whores all over and kids in his wake.”
“Yeah? You’re saying….”
“Bear got caught doing something to a paying client, let’s say raping. Then on top of that he pins the guy that finds him with one hand on his throat while he finishes raping the paying client. Sick, huh?”
“Makes the guy watch him. Then he snuffs both of them at the same time. One crushed neck, one snapped.”
“They just shot him. Couldn’t do anything else but that. Now that was sick, huh?”
“Things are hard to call,” I said, thinking that rape can hardly equate with this lucrative organized mass murder.
He laughed, put his hands behind his head like he was sitting on the verandah and told me this story:
“There was a huge black guy, a fugitive, his name was Jemal…God knows where they found him. Or why they thought he could be taken out by anyone. Any of the sort of regular guys they get here. I mean, he was six foot of muscle and pissed off at everything. Never should have brought him here. Never. Must have picked him up in an alley, passed out. Jemal starts trying to escape right from the get go. Second or third night here. He breaks out…gets through the sentry at the perimeter. Easy. But the thing was, that guy, the sentry was the only other black guy here, and the only guy that Jemal would even talk to. We find this poor fuck, I mean he was a tough fuck but couldn’t have fought Jemal five seconds, we find him the next morning hanging from the fence by his neck. Must’ve strangled him with his shirt and then hung him. Fucked up, right? Jemal makes it to the road and jacks a VW van. We figured they must have pulled the van over to look at the engine… you know just thought ‘let’s pull over and fill up the radiator’ because… 1: after he offs these 2 guys the van doesn’t get him ten miles, and 2: if you were driving and you see this big fucking black killing machine hitching there looking like he just took his shirt off and strangled a guy and hung him from a fence, you don’t stop and say ‘Hop in’.”
“So there’s some scrub stomped down.. we look in there….you never seen anything like it. We find the late driver and passenger of the van, two white boys, college, probably pulled into the weeds by their long hair. They were head to head. The younger one, smaller one had his back broken, and had been hand choked. You could still see the handprints on his neck. The other, could have been his big brother was on his stomach, pants down, neck pulled back so he stared at the sky, fucked, raped. Figure he let the little brother watch with a snapped spine while he raped and snapped the neck on his big brother, then killed the boy after. This guy was nasty. We caught up with the van, like I say about ten miles later.”
“There are about 8 of us. I’m the best fighter, but this guy Kyle was just about up to my standard. We catch up to Jemal. He turns and looks at us. Bounces his pecs and laughs at us. Then Jemal fucking rushed us. He grabbed Kyle and held him up against his body, facing us. That wasn’t the smartest negotiation tactic… ‘You back off or I’ll snap his neck,’ Jemal says.
“What’d you do?”
“Shot him with tranquilizer darts, but Jemal snapped that terrified Kyle’s neck. Just tightened up his grip as he was holdin’ him. He went down… with this boy buried in his chest. You know he had biceps like bowling balls and they seized up, pulled that terrified boy’s neck up hard against his chest. Fucking guy might have had his head crushed in between those pecs.”
“We pulled Kyle out of Jemal’s arms, heard the neck crack again. Then we moved Jemal like a lightly sleeping Grizzly. Took him to the basement of the main house where they had set up a cage. And they kept him caged, at least as long as they could. He got his hands through the bars about up to the wrist where his forearms bulged out and he somehow tricked the stupid little guy we had guarding him up near, reached through, grabbed his shirt and lifted him up crushing his larynx. Anyway, pretty soon after that they put him in an exhibition fight. Jemal against Bear, who used to do my job.”
“Who won?”
“Bear was a mountain. You ever see that wrestler Goldberg? He was like that. Shaved head, all neck and lats. That is one neck no one is going to break. Jemal stayed in it for a good 3 or 4 minutes but he was starved and dehydrated. He looked crazed. He got a good bicep clamped across Bear’s face once but Bear just picked Jemal up… like a doll you know. Bear lifted him up, dropped him across his knee, pushed him to the ground and folded him backwards, Jemal screaming and crying. Snap, snap, snap screaming and screaming…. snap. I heard four snaps. Last one was his thick neck. That’s when Jemal stopped screaming”
“Now Bear…that was muscle, cause Jemal was all muscle. You know, he should… should have been called… he looked more like a silo than a bear. Massive fuck.”
“So what happened to Bear?”
“This is a peculiar place. You get peculiar types, I mean, some guys are here for their jobs, some not.”
He looked at me as though asking which I was.
“Bear not a consummate professional?’
“Bear was a straight guy, ex-wife, whores all over and kids in his wake.”
“Yeah? You’re saying….”
“Bear got caught doing something to a paying client, let’s say raping. Then on top of that he pins the guy that finds him with one hand on his throat while he finishes raping the paying client. Sick, huh?”
“Makes the guy watch him. Then he snuffs both of them at the same time. One crushed neck, one snapped.”
“They just shot him. Couldn’t do anything else but that. Now that was sick, huh?”
“Things are hard to call,” I said, thinking that rape can hardly equate with this lucrative organized mass murder.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
2nd installment: L.C.C.
I was out “scouting” with Martin. Not only did Martin not trust me. He did not want to be out with me. Martin spit on the ground as conversation.
“You want to go this way?” I ask.
Spit.
“You want to follow that guy?”
Spit.
Martin wanted IN the house. Martin wanted to do something big. When Martin sparred, he wanted 3 guys at once, 4 guys at once. Nothing was enough. He looked like a guy that had a moustache at 12. He had a low hairline, chest hair crawling up his neck, arms and legs black with hair. You could see his pubes growing down his legs. He was all testosterone, and had a crazy look in his eyes. Psychopath. A look that said “I want to kill”… probably had that look when he sang “Happy Birthday”.
“Well, I mean they didn’t say we couldn’t go in,” I said.
Spit.
The kitchen door is unlocked. Martin is very stealthy. I feel like we are playing at being Ninjas…but my adrenalin is pumping, my breath fast.
Two guys are on a sofa. A white and black guy. Not the typical kill-issue here. Both look like marines.
“I don’t know if we’re supposed to kill these guys,” I say in a low voice.
Martin stands and takes off his shoes. He walks up to them barefoot, pulls his shirt off and throws it on the floor. “GET UP!”
“What the fuck?” the black guy says.
“FIGHT OR DIE!”
The white guy is up and Martin spins, kicks him in the solar plexus. The guy stumbles back. The black guy is just sitting, looking resentful. The white guy runs at Martin. Martin assumes a boxing stance. Punches him hard. In the face. The white guy shakes it off.
“GET UP” Martin yells at the black guy.
He gets up slowly.
“FIGHT!”
The black guy comes to life.
Martin smiles. The two of them start to punch and kick at Martin. Martin parries each punch. He looks at me and smiles. A Vietnamese guy now comes from the kitchen area. Martin smiles big at me. Maybe he doesn’t hate me really I think. The white guy picks up a pool cue to use, but it is knocked free quickly. Martin leaps and catches the black guy behind the head with his foot.. tumbles him right into the white guy. Then turns to the Vietnamese guy, this kid who barely looks sixteen, and who is now in a fighting stance. Martin sweeps the kids legs out from under him and catches the head between his own legs. He snaps the kid’s neck between two slabs of hairy muscle.
The black guys voice goes up, “You just snapped his neck!”
Now yours, Martin says almost softly.
They start to run. Martin trips the white guy by grabbing at his legs. He pulls the guy backward and punches his skull, stunning him. He is still in motion as he catches the black guy by his shirt, ripping it almost off, pulling him into a sleeper. The black guy, who looks to be pretty well-muscled himself, squeals like a pig. Martin drags him back to where the white guy is getting up. He takes each one of their necks in an arm. He faces them towards me.
He is taking his time. I’m looking in their faces. They still look like they think they have a chance. Black guy tries to look tough, pissed, sputtering obscenities…. White guy looks like he wants his Daddy. Martin pulls his head back with the effort at cracking their necks. Martin’s own neck is a pyramid of muscle, now…striated with veins. His face turns red. His forearms are almost inhuman looking. The black guy is now giving up, he looks into the white guys eyes. The white guy is almost stroking the bicep around his neck. Martin then relaxes his hold. The black guy grabs his dick, then with a quick jerk, Martin snaps their necks, both at once.
He adjusts his posture and holds them up in his arms. Both have a look of dumb surprise on their face. He looks at me, but isn’t smiling.
“Impressive,” I say.
He drops them, spits.
“Now you,” he says.
I back up.
“No. I mean. You go. It’s your turn.”
“Did you leave anyone?”
“They can get more.”
“I don’t know… after seeing this… I just don’t know if I can do….”
“What did you come here for?”
I had to kill. It was do it or be exposed and very likely be put into an exhibition fight myself. I picked at random. I knew it had to be random. No choice involved. Of course, my random choice turned out to be someone a foot taller than myself, probably a basketball star in his high school days, a junkie or a fugitive or something now that got his ass snared. Red hair, goatee, shoulders like grapefruits, long biceps, long neck. He was shirtless and in shorts. His legs could have severed my body, I knew guys like that in school…bicyclists, long legs, but huge quads, and big round calves.
I had to keep myself away from those legs. I thought I would drop down on the guy from above, like Tom Cruise in MI….get my legs around his neck and finish it quickly. My legs are short but I get some stares when I do squats at the gym. I can lift a lot with my legs. And I don’t have to see the guy’s face when I do it.
I gave Martin the plan. We found a balcony that I could hide beneath. Martin was supposed to lure the long skinny fuck under there and position him just right… otherwise he said I’d be waiting all night for him to get underneath where I could drop on him.
It went pretty well. I watched Martin’s face as I tried to snap the guys neck with my legs and hang onto the balcony deck too. He looked like he was watching football, but just maybe a second down….. and nine. The guy finally pulled me down. Something happened when I was on the ground grappling with this guy.
I wanted to see his face. It was fucking sick, but I fucking had to see the eyes when I snapped his neck. I was almost there, the guy was groggy. I stopped, unwrapped my legs from his neck and climbed on top of him, belly to belly. I looked in his face, looked at that long neck. I wrapped my hands around it. I squeezed. The tongue came out, the face went red. He surfaced from unconsciousness, and looked in my eyes with panic. Sheer panic. It felt like the guy was getting a hard-on. I backed up so I could get his face in focus. I saw my forearms were all veins. That thick long neck. I thought of a guy in school that I hated that had that same neck. I kind of got a hard-on. I strangled that fuck dead. I heard the gurgle, the wheeze, the desperate whisper. I knew he was dead, but I wanted it to keep on going. Then I missed not hearing that snap that the other guys got off on.
“Should I snap his neck, too?” I asked Martin.
“He won’t mind.”
I gave the head a twist, just like in the fucking movies. It was easy if you go far enough. The neck was then something soft and pliant, almost sensual.
“Your dick is hard,” Martin said. “That’s a problem you got there.”
I suppose it was.
“You want to go this way?” I ask.
Spit.
“You want to follow that guy?”
Spit.
Martin wanted IN the house. Martin wanted to do something big. When Martin sparred, he wanted 3 guys at once, 4 guys at once. Nothing was enough. He looked like a guy that had a moustache at 12. He had a low hairline, chest hair crawling up his neck, arms and legs black with hair. You could see his pubes growing down his legs. He was all testosterone, and had a crazy look in his eyes. Psychopath. A look that said “I want to kill”… probably had that look when he sang “Happy Birthday”.
“Well, I mean they didn’t say we couldn’t go in,” I said.
Spit.
The kitchen door is unlocked. Martin is very stealthy. I feel like we are playing at being Ninjas…but my adrenalin is pumping, my breath fast.
Two guys are on a sofa. A white and black guy. Not the typical kill-issue here. Both look like marines.
“I don’t know if we’re supposed to kill these guys,” I say in a low voice.
Martin stands and takes off his shoes. He walks up to them barefoot, pulls his shirt off and throws it on the floor. “GET UP!”
“What the fuck?” the black guy says.
“FIGHT OR DIE!”
The white guy is up and Martin spins, kicks him in the solar plexus. The guy stumbles back. The black guy is just sitting, looking resentful. The white guy runs at Martin. Martin assumes a boxing stance. Punches him hard. In the face. The white guy shakes it off.
“GET UP” Martin yells at the black guy.
He gets up slowly.
“FIGHT!”
The black guy comes to life.
Martin smiles. The two of them start to punch and kick at Martin. Martin parries each punch. He looks at me and smiles. A Vietnamese guy now comes from the kitchen area. Martin smiles big at me. Maybe he doesn’t hate me really I think. The white guy picks up a pool cue to use, but it is knocked free quickly. Martin leaps and catches the black guy behind the head with his foot.. tumbles him right into the white guy. Then turns to the Vietnamese guy, this kid who barely looks sixteen, and who is now in a fighting stance. Martin sweeps the kids legs out from under him and catches the head between his own legs. He snaps the kid’s neck between two slabs of hairy muscle.
The black guys voice goes up, “You just snapped his neck!”
Now yours, Martin says almost softly.
They start to run. Martin trips the white guy by grabbing at his legs. He pulls the guy backward and punches his skull, stunning him. He is still in motion as he catches the black guy by his shirt, ripping it almost off, pulling him into a sleeper. The black guy, who looks to be pretty well-muscled himself, squeals like a pig. Martin drags him back to where the white guy is getting up. He takes each one of their necks in an arm. He faces them towards me.
He is taking his time. I’m looking in their faces. They still look like they think they have a chance. Black guy tries to look tough, pissed, sputtering obscenities…. White guy looks like he wants his Daddy. Martin pulls his head back with the effort at cracking their necks. Martin’s own neck is a pyramid of muscle, now…striated with veins. His face turns red. His forearms are almost inhuman looking. The black guy is now giving up, he looks into the white guys eyes. The white guy is almost stroking the bicep around his neck. Martin then relaxes his hold. The black guy grabs his dick, then with a quick jerk, Martin snaps their necks, both at once.
He adjusts his posture and holds them up in his arms. Both have a look of dumb surprise on their face. He looks at me, but isn’t smiling.
“Impressive,” I say.
He drops them, spits.
“Now you,” he says.
I back up.
“No. I mean. You go. It’s your turn.”
“Did you leave anyone?”
“They can get more.”
“I don’t know… after seeing this… I just don’t know if I can do….”
“What did you come here for?”
I had to kill. It was do it or be exposed and very likely be put into an exhibition fight myself. I picked at random. I knew it had to be random. No choice involved. Of course, my random choice turned out to be someone a foot taller than myself, probably a basketball star in his high school days, a junkie or a fugitive or something now that got his ass snared. Red hair, goatee, shoulders like grapefruits, long biceps, long neck. He was shirtless and in shorts. His legs could have severed my body, I knew guys like that in school…bicyclists, long legs, but huge quads, and big round calves.
I had to keep myself away from those legs. I thought I would drop down on the guy from above, like Tom Cruise in MI….get my legs around his neck and finish it quickly. My legs are short but I get some stares when I do squats at the gym. I can lift a lot with my legs. And I don’t have to see the guy’s face when I do it.
I gave Martin the plan. We found a balcony that I could hide beneath. Martin was supposed to lure the long skinny fuck under there and position him just right… otherwise he said I’d be waiting all night for him to get underneath where I could drop on him.
It went pretty well. I watched Martin’s face as I tried to snap the guys neck with my legs and hang onto the balcony deck too. He looked like he was watching football, but just maybe a second down….. and nine. The guy finally pulled me down. Something happened when I was on the ground grappling with this guy.
I wanted to see his face. It was fucking sick, but I fucking had to see the eyes when I snapped his neck. I was almost there, the guy was groggy. I stopped, unwrapped my legs from his neck and climbed on top of him, belly to belly. I looked in his face, looked at that long neck. I wrapped my hands around it. I squeezed. The tongue came out, the face went red. He surfaced from unconsciousness, and looked in my eyes with panic. Sheer panic. It felt like the guy was getting a hard-on. I backed up so I could get his face in focus. I saw my forearms were all veins. That thick long neck. I thought of a guy in school that I hated that had that same neck. I kind of got a hard-on. I strangled that fuck dead. I heard the gurgle, the wheeze, the desperate whisper. I knew he was dead, but I wanted it to keep on going. Then I missed not hearing that snap that the other guys got off on.
“Should I snap his neck, too?” I asked Martin.
“He won’t mind.”
I gave the head a twist, just like in the fucking movies. It was easy if you go far enough. The neck was then something soft and pliant, almost sensual.
“Your dick is hard,” Martin said. “That’s a problem you got there.”
I suppose it was.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
New story by Sean - "L.C.C." (1st part)
You could tell who the “government contractors” were. There were 6 of them- all looking like firemen: aviator glasses and mustaches…or clean-shaven/bad haircuts… muscled, humorless. There were one or two thug types who probably acted as bodyguards for some suspect businessmen. One definite Mafioso: a thick-necked Guido, almost cross-eyed thick. There were four self-described professional fighters- most were fucking mean guys. There was an Iowa farmer if I’ve ever seen one, and a guy, almost fifty that looked like a Kansas Baptist preacher: straight blond hair, weathered face, good looks sacrificed to some unrewarding principle. There were 3 sick fucks, not that the others weren’t sick fucks, but these guys were here in non-professional capacity. They just wanted to snap some dude’s neck or watch someone else snap some dude’s neck and then go masturbate with the door locked while we waited to get in the bathroom. That’s conjecture. I was a reporter. There was only 1 bathroom on each floor in our compound. I can conjecture.
The sick fucks tried to make us think they weren’t sick fucks by being everyone’s friend, cracking jokes. One guy, Ben, said, out of the blue as we’re walking away from two guys spectacularly offed in front of the whole crew, sighing out their last breath, “What is L.C.C. anyway…. I mean I know that L.C. is lethal combat. What is it? Lethal Combat Corporation? Lethal Combat Company? Lethal Combat Co-operative?”
The other sick fucks laughed. I was as stoic as the mercenaries…um, contractors. But it was pretty funny, especially as I had to get that final C for my story.
This place, in East Texas, was like a set-piece from a Chuck Norris flick: a house, with terraces, some dense woods around it. There was a dormitory behind the house for the poor shits that my friends here were paying to kill. We clients lived past the woods, across a creek, through an electrified, razor wire topped fence, on a ranch where we trained and salivated for the next young Mexican or back-packer neck. They weren’t all Mexicans or back-packers. There were some Vietnamese, probably from the insular fishing communities down here. There were some fugitives, but a few kids, the Anglo ones, just looked like guys that had gotten too wasted at Burning Man- lanky, shaggy college burn-outs.
The Mexicans were just recruited off the streets, loaded in a van and smuggled up here with the promise of a job guarding a rich man’s house. They were unqualified for security, they were untrained as fighters but they always fought like they had a chance. They just didn’t stand in dumb amazement if one of the guys wrapped an arm around their neck and slowly crushed their windpipe. One of the white kids, one of the first guys I saw killed here, just stood in the same spot and looked kind of surprised, mouth open in an “Oh!” as one of the mercenaries, a short, over-muscled runt, Pat, walked up to him, face-on calling him a pathetic fuck, giving him an elbow in the face, which probably looked better in Pat’s mind, kicking out one knee and wrapping his short 18 inch bicep around the kid’s throat. Pat kept up a ‘fuck you’ taunt, spitting words in the guy’s ear, we could see the kid’s curly blond hair puff out from Pat’s breath- as we hear the soft tissue go, then the vertebrae. The kid never fought.
“Appetizer” Pat said after he let the kid, his neck crushed and broken fall to the ground. He laughed.
“Your pythons still hungry after that snack?” one smart-ass sick fuck asked him.
Pat stared him silent.
Some guys were here for the challenge and would take on a cocky Latino, very macho, strong-looking guy. They’d draw out the fight. Give the guy a chance to breathe. They’d back off, assume a stance and let the guy come up with something, anything. One big Mexican guy, must have been a lumberjack, if they’ve got them, a guy that didn’t even fit in his wife-beater, was acting like a sentry on the north lawn. It was a sweltering afternoon, cloudless. This guy’s tight wife-beater was soaked through. He looked bored and pissed. One of the thug guys, drug-lord bodyguard, someone who probably stood sentry himself, said “Let me have him.”
No one argued. The thug was giving away forty pounds and a couple of inches. He was beefy, but it was HGH/Creatine/Protein powder beef. I guess he wanted to prove something outside the gym. He led with a flying kick to the spine. It might have moved the hulking Mexican a foot, but if it didn’t hurt him, it pissed him off. The thug then leapt with a spinning kick to the face. The Mexican stayed up, then with a curse, dived at and took the thug down. They were on the ground for most of the rest of it, until the thug got the Mexican’s back and the guy got to his feet, roaring. This brought one of the Vietnamese sentries around from the West lawn. Saul, the leanest of the pro fighters, pulled his shirt off and headed to intercept. The Viet yelled in his own language, must have been sharing a cigarette on duty, which was punishable, no irony intended, and another Asian came from the same direction. When a merc moved to take that new guy on, one of the other fighters held him back.
“Hell, two of them don’t even add up to that one fucking Mexican.”
The gym-thick thug was trying to strangle the huge Mexican neck with one arm and force the head forward with the other. Then he tried to snap it in the strangle hold, but that bull neck wasn’t giving. Meanwhile, as is said, back to our right…The first Vietnamese just flew into the fight with Saul. Saul, whose body was just bone, muscle and skin moved in for the guy’s waist, picked up the guy in one arm, put the other hand on the guy’s throat and made it look like he was tossing the guy by his head, upended on the lawn. It looked great… didn’t hurt the guy a bit. But while he lay figuring out he wasn’t hurt, the second Viet was already in Saul’s face. Saul just looked the guy in the eyes, shook his head, reached up like it was a fucking handshake and twisted and broke the second guy’s neck without any pretense of giving the guy a shot. “Crick”… like separating chopsticks. Chin twisted about six inches up and behind the collarbone….Then “CRACKK” We had forgot the fucking Mex’can lumberjack. It sounded like a tree being felled, his neck rumbled when the thug broke it. We looked back. The Mexican’s body was on the ground, but his face was still right in front of us, his eyes were rolled back into his head and his tongue was hanging out, his face sagged.
The gym thug ratcheted the head around, shouting, “YEAH!”
“Crick”. Saul had the first Viet on the ground, a knee on his chest and was twisting the neck around like he was giving an adjustment with sensitivity. The look on Saul’s face was bliss, concentration, and personal satisfaction. I’ve seen that look, usually after orgasms.
These were the first. I have to admit, I was made nauseous, but strange to say, it was just from adrenalin and excitement. I tried to feel morally culpable, but it was just a weak pretense.
It can’t have been much later when Saul, who was generally pretty quiet, wanted to take out another guy that night, and a heated debate arose over whether we each paid for one kill or if , as Saul said we didn’t work on quota, but each to his own capacity Naturally I had to avoid killing one of these guys myself, but I couldn’t say, “Hey you take mine!”
My position only got weirder when I was out at 3 or 4 a.m. pretending to scout a dawn raid on our fictitious enemy… and I was on patrol with one of the sick fucks, a handsome guy with too perfect a haircut and he spotted, jumped and dragged a young shirtless Latino by his neck into a utility shed. After a few minutes of waiting, I opened the door. The head was at that unnatural angle, the tongue out, the neck had been broken, but the model was licking the guy’s nipples. He had a boner. He smiled when he stood up and said to me, “You say anything and I’ll break your neck”.
“I guess you’d want to kiss my nipples, too?” I asked.
He smirked.
No one questioned my abilities to my face. I played ball in college. I was still this side of two bucks, maybe 195, mostly shoulders… genetic. I am Jewish, hairy and built like a sort of nerdish athlete. I guess I’d asked myself, as all red-blooded males do, usually when they’re 14, could I snap some guy’s neck?
I guess I’d find out.
The sick fucks tried to make us think they weren’t sick fucks by being everyone’s friend, cracking jokes. One guy, Ben, said, out of the blue as we’re walking away from two guys spectacularly offed in front of the whole crew, sighing out their last breath, “What is L.C.C. anyway…. I mean I know that L.C. is lethal combat. What is it? Lethal Combat Corporation? Lethal Combat Company? Lethal Combat Co-operative?”
The other sick fucks laughed. I was as stoic as the mercenaries…um, contractors. But it was pretty funny, especially as I had to get that final C for my story.
This place, in East Texas, was like a set-piece from a Chuck Norris flick: a house, with terraces, some dense woods around it. There was a dormitory behind the house for the poor shits that my friends here were paying to kill. We clients lived past the woods, across a creek, through an electrified, razor wire topped fence, on a ranch where we trained and salivated for the next young Mexican or back-packer neck. They weren’t all Mexicans or back-packers. There were some Vietnamese, probably from the insular fishing communities down here. There were some fugitives, but a few kids, the Anglo ones, just looked like guys that had gotten too wasted at Burning Man- lanky, shaggy college burn-outs.
The Mexicans were just recruited off the streets, loaded in a van and smuggled up here with the promise of a job guarding a rich man’s house. They were unqualified for security, they were untrained as fighters but they always fought like they had a chance. They just didn’t stand in dumb amazement if one of the guys wrapped an arm around their neck and slowly crushed their windpipe. One of the white kids, one of the first guys I saw killed here, just stood in the same spot and looked kind of surprised, mouth open in an “Oh!” as one of the mercenaries, a short, over-muscled runt, Pat, walked up to him, face-on calling him a pathetic fuck, giving him an elbow in the face, which probably looked better in Pat’s mind, kicking out one knee and wrapping his short 18 inch bicep around the kid’s throat. Pat kept up a ‘fuck you’ taunt, spitting words in the guy’s ear, we could see the kid’s curly blond hair puff out from Pat’s breath- as we hear the soft tissue go, then the vertebrae. The kid never fought.
“Appetizer” Pat said after he let the kid, his neck crushed and broken fall to the ground. He laughed.
“Your pythons still hungry after that snack?” one smart-ass sick fuck asked him.
Pat stared him silent.
Some guys were here for the challenge and would take on a cocky Latino, very macho, strong-looking guy. They’d draw out the fight. Give the guy a chance to breathe. They’d back off, assume a stance and let the guy come up with something, anything. One big Mexican guy, must have been a lumberjack, if they’ve got them, a guy that didn’t even fit in his wife-beater, was acting like a sentry on the north lawn. It was a sweltering afternoon, cloudless. This guy’s tight wife-beater was soaked through. He looked bored and pissed. One of the thug guys, drug-lord bodyguard, someone who probably stood sentry himself, said “Let me have him.”
No one argued. The thug was giving away forty pounds and a couple of inches. He was beefy, but it was HGH/Creatine/Protein powder beef. I guess he wanted to prove something outside the gym. He led with a flying kick to the spine. It might have moved the hulking Mexican a foot, but if it didn’t hurt him, it pissed him off. The thug then leapt with a spinning kick to the face. The Mexican stayed up, then with a curse, dived at and took the thug down. They were on the ground for most of the rest of it, until the thug got the Mexican’s back and the guy got to his feet, roaring. This brought one of the Vietnamese sentries around from the West lawn. Saul, the leanest of the pro fighters, pulled his shirt off and headed to intercept. The Viet yelled in his own language, must have been sharing a cigarette on duty, which was punishable, no irony intended, and another Asian came from the same direction. When a merc moved to take that new guy on, one of the other fighters held him back.
“Hell, two of them don’t even add up to that one fucking Mexican.”
The gym-thick thug was trying to strangle the huge Mexican neck with one arm and force the head forward with the other. Then he tried to snap it in the strangle hold, but that bull neck wasn’t giving. Meanwhile, as is said, back to our right…The first Vietnamese just flew into the fight with Saul. Saul, whose body was just bone, muscle and skin moved in for the guy’s waist, picked up the guy in one arm, put the other hand on the guy’s throat and made it look like he was tossing the guy by his head, upended on the lawn. It looked great… didn’t hurt the guy a bit. But while he lay figuring out he wasn’t hurt, the second Viet was already in Saul’s face. Saul just looked the guy in the eyes, shook his head, reached up like it was a fucking handshake and twisted and broke the second guy’s neck without any pretense of giving the guy a shot. “Crick”… like separating chopsticks. Chin twisted about six inches up and behind the collarbone….Then “CRACKK” We had forgot the fucking Mex’can lumberjack. It sounded like a tree being felled, his neck rumbled when the thug broke it. We looked back. The Mexican’s body was on the ground, but his face was still right in front of us, his eyes were rolled back into his head and his tongue was hanging out, his face sagged.
The gym thug ratcheted the head around, shouting, “YEAH!”
“Crick”. Saul had the first Viet on the ground, a knee on his chest and was twisting the neck around like he was giving an adjustment with sensitivity. The look on Saul’s face was bliss, concentration, and personal satisfaction. I’ve seen that look, usually after orgasms.
These were the first. I have to admit, I was made nauseous, but strange to say, it was just from adrenalin and excitement. I tried to feel morally culpable, but it was just a weak pretense.
It can’t have been much later when Saul, who was generally pretty quiet, wanted to take out another guy that night, and a heated debate arose over whether we each paid for one kill or if , as Saul said we didn’t work on quota, but each to his own capacity Naturally I had to avoid killing one of these guys myself, but I couldn’t say, “Hey you take mine!”
My position only got weirder when I was out at 3 or 4 a.m. pretending to scout a dawn raid on our fictitious enemy… and I was on patrol with one of the sick fucks, a handsome guy with too perfect a haircut and he spotted, jumped and dragged a young shirtless Latino by his neck into a utility shed. After a few minutes of waiting, I opened the door. The head was at that unnatural angle, the tongue out, the neck had been broken, but the model was licking the guy’s nipples. He had a boner. He smiled when he stood up and said to me, “You say anything and I’ll break your neck”.
“I guess you’d want to kiss my nipples, too?” I asked.
He smirked.
No one questioned my abilities to my face. I played ball in college. I was still this side of two bucks, maybe 195, mostly shoulders… genetic. I am Jewish, hairy and built like a sort of nerdish athlete. I guess I’d asked myself, as all red-blooded males do, usually when they’re 14, could I snap some guy’s neck?
I guess I’d find out.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Another story by Sean
(Um... adult situations)
Greg opened the door to his apartment. He smiled, then his face clouded when he saw I wasn’t alone.
“I didn’t think you’d object,” I said. “I brought a couple of friends to watch your photo session.”
We pushed past any objections he might have voiced and the three of us walked into his apartment. I gave Greg an intimidating chest bump. The dining room had been emptied. There was a tarp on the floor, one chair, and adjusting a camera on a tripod was a entirely naked guy, Greg’s current fuck, Tim. He was blond and had a smooth, muscular body, big arms and shoulders, nice legs, a tight ass. He was probably 6 or 7 years older than Greg and always acted, when I saw them, as his physical superior. I knew we’d have a fight on our hands with Tim.
“What the fuck? Who are they?”
Greg explained, with his back to us, that I had asked to hang out while they took their fuck and snuff photos. The other 2 were a surprise.
“Hey guys,” I said, “Let me explain. This is Cal.” I pointed to the 6’7” blond/red-headed guy nearest me. Cal just nodded, like any urban punk.
“I showed him your photos. He wanted to come along. And that’s Dante.” I pointed to the guy sulking in Cal’s tall shadow. Dante was about 5’7”, his father was black, his mother Korean. Dante had inherited the grapefruit biceps that were cantaloupes on his father- the cantaloupe shoulders that were bowling balls on his father. He showed all of that and his gym-rat chest in the clean, tight tank top he wore. It was blindingly white against his milky coffee skin. He nodded to Greg and Tim and let his head hang at a untrusting angle on his thick neck.
“Dante taught at a dojo.” I looked at him and smiled, “until he got fired or did they arrest you?”
Dante and Cal laughed.
“What….” Greg swallowed hard, “…what did you do?”
“Get these fucks out of here,” Tim said.
“Dante can show you something to help you out with your photos.”
“How’s that?” Tim was already erect. I saw something move in Greg’s sweatpants.
Dante let his head rear back, flexing his neck until it bulged thicker than his head. “I fucking snapped some faggot’s neck.”
Greg, instantly, had a huge tent in his sweatpants. He looked back at Tim.
“Are you guys gay?” Greg asked.
We all laughed.
“Why do you think I broke that little faggot’s neck?” Dante asked.
“I don’t know. I thought….It wasn’t while you guys were training?”
“No. It was in the fucking shower. He was trying to make a pass at me or something. I said he slipped in the shower.”
“Tell us what it felt like, Dante,” Cal said menacingly.
“Fucking… man…. Fuck!” Dante massaged his fist, his biceps bulged. They were huge.
Tim was staring at the biceps. In a level voice he said, “Greg, get them out of here.”
“Greg,” Cal said, “I thought I could show you some things I thought might make some cool photos!”
Greg began to walk past Cal to the front door- Cal, towering over Greg, reached out easily and captured Greg’s neck in the crook of his arm.
Tim, as expected, jumped to his boy’s defense.
“LET HIM GO AND GET THE FUCK…..”
Dante and I took Tim down. Tim wrestled himself onto his back, ripping my shirt almost off and Dante’s completely off. I quickly got his back and tried to snake an arm around his throat. Dante quickly clamped his legs around Tim’s torso. You could see his sweatpants swell as the quads began to work.
Greg began to shout ”What the fuck? What are you doing?”
Cal had ripped down Greg’s sweats and had an arm between his legs, lifting him off the ground.
“I want to get a picture of me snapping your spine. Backbreaker.”
Cal moved in front of the camera, carrying Greg. “someone’s gotta work the camera, fuck.”
“Fuck!” Greg sounded hopeless. He pawed at Cal’s long biceps and massive delts.
“Guys watch!” Cal dropped Greg across his knee, not with any seriously lethal intent. Greg arched back. His cock was so hard- dangling and pulsing with a surfeit of blood.
Tim reacted with fury as he watched from my tight sleeper.
Cal laughed and stroked Greg’s cock with one hand.
“Dude, Sean, you were right. Look. Fucking can’t wait for us to kill their faggot asses.”
Tim shouted, “I will fucking kill you. Let him go.”
“You’ll kill me? You little fucking girl. Dante, Sean, let him up.”
Cal pushed Greg off of him onto the floor. Greg gained his feet and ran to the front door. Dante was fast after him.
I watched Cal tease Tim, keeping him at arm-length like a little brother, laughing at him. Tim was still hard.
“Are we going to sword fight? Wait.” Cal pulled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants and underwear. “You guys like to fight like the Greeks, right? Just don’t be thinking you’re gonna suck this.” Cal grabbed his long cock. I had never seen him naked. He was beautifully built, like a bodybuilder had just been stretched a foot longer. His curly mop of hair did give him the look of a Greek wrestler when he bent toward Tim, circling, his hands slapping at Tim’s.
I pulled my clothes off. I was hard as a rock.
Dante carried a twisting Greg over to me. It looked funny, the 5 and a half foot guy carrying the muscular lanky guy. He dropped him at my feet and said, “Suck his cock!”
Greg hesitated. Dante reacted by sweeping Greg to the floor into an arm bar. I lowered my cock into Greg’s mouth and did push-ups over that mouth, my cock ready to explode in it. Greg’s moans at the pain that little muscle-monster was inflicting made it infinitely better.
“Hey Dante, rip his fucking arm off unless he sucks it better.”
Greg instantly adjusted his mouth around my cock, giving his humiliation some love.
“I’ll fucking snap his neck if he don’t eat that fucking cock good. You hear that motherfucker?”
Greg gave a sort of whimper.
I jumped up from my push-up blowjob and saw that huge Cal had taken Tim down and had him in a torturous rear naked choke. He was spitting on his hand and rubbing his cock wet.
“Is your asshole ready, asshole?” Cal laughed and shoved his cock in Tim’s ass.
The look on Tim’s face was shock, despair. His tongue protruded when Cal pulled him tighter onto his cock at each thrust. Cal’s bicep bulged against the muscular neck.
I took the opportunity to stick my cock in Tim’s mouth.
I heard Greg moan behind me. Dante had him kneeling. Dante was fucking him from behind while Greg watched his boyfriend be humiliated, choked, fucked and mouth-raped.
Cal’s body was in constant flex. His long hard muscles bulging with veins. He sneered as he fucked Tim, tightening the bicep around Tim’s throat when he wanted to plunge deeper in his ass. I pulled out of Tim’s mouth and turned to Greg. And Dante. My cock throbbing at the sight of Dante’s grapefruit biceps pulling at Greg’s hips. I felt one of them.
“Man!” I said. Dante flexed.
“watch what these can do…” When Dante pulled his cock out to leap up on Greg’s back, I heard scuffling behind me. Tim had gotten free and was headed for us. I was tackled. Tim and I rolled on the floor.
Dante and Cal were on their feet.
“Get that faggot!” they shouted to me.
Tim was fucking strong. I got his back.
“Choke him!”
I snaked an arm around his neck. He reacted by twisting away, but I was able to flip onto my back, his body writhing atop me.
“Break his fucking neck!”
Greg was still on all fours. He was watching hungrily.
“What do you want me to do with him, Greg?”
Greg just stared at Tim writhing, trying to free his neck.
“You want to see your stud boyfriend’s neck broken?”
He made eye contact with me. He was now kneeling, stroking his cock.
“Give me that shit,” Dante said. He pulled Tim out of my grip so easily I could not hold him. He got him on his knees and then spun him around, wrapping his huge black bicep around the throat.
“I came here for this here.”
Greg grabbed Tim’s hard cock. Tim moaned with helplessness.
“Watch these neck snappers,” Dante said.
Dante’s whole body flicked in one direction, his arms and Tim’s head in the other. Tim’s mouth was as far open as it could go, a choked scream came from behind his protruding tongue.
SNAP. Tim’s neck snapped. He shot onto Greg’s face.
Dante yelled, “YEAH!” He dropped Tim then grabbed his head and gave it a vicious shake like a dog shakes a toy. We heard the neck bones crack again. Tim’s face had a look of wide surprise. So did Greg’s.
“Fuck!” Cal said, “Now my boy…” He headed for Greg.
“No fucking way. He’s mine too.”
“Fuck you, Dante!”
Dante flew into Cal as Greg backed away, just in front of me. Cal was confident he could take care of himself but Dante was possessed with his neck-snapping lust.
Greg was brushing against my chest. When Dante had beaten Cal to gain his back, Cal wide-eyed with shock and terror. Facing us his long cock pointing right at us, I grabbed Greg’s neck in a sleeper.
“It’s only fair. It was my idea,” I said.
I walked Greg over, took him down and forced his gaping mouth onto Cal’s cock.
Cal squealed.
Dante jerked and arched and I saw that long muscular neck break and the head tilt and fall. Greg just had time to swallow the cum and SNAP… I snapped the faggot’s neck.
I never felt so powerful in my life. I flipped Greg over onto Cal’s torso, and stroked his beautiful fucking face. I kissed him on the lips while I jerked myself off. Dante jerked off to his body in a mirror over his kills.
Greg was very wet and very dead.
Greg opened the door to his apartment. He smiled, then his face clouded when he saw I wasn’t alone.
“I didn’t think you’d object,” I said. “I brought a couple of friends to watch your photo session.”
We pushed past any objections he might have voiced and the three of us walked into his apartment. I gave Greg an intimidating chest bump. The dining room had been emptied. There was a tarp on the floor, one chair, and adjusting a camera on a tripod was a entirely naked guy, Greg’s current fuck, Tim. He was blond and had a smooth, muscular body, big arms and shoulders, nice legs, a tight ass. He was probably 6 or 7 years older than Greg and always acted, when I saw them, as his physical superior. I knew we’d have a fight on our hands with Tim.
“What the fuck? Who are they?”
Greg explained, with his back to us, that I had asked to hang out while they took their fuck and snuff photos. The other 2 were a surprise.
“Hey guys,” I said, “Let me explain. This is Cal.” I pointed to the 6’7” blond/red-headed guy nearest me. Cal just nodded, like any urban punk.
“I showed him your photos. He wanted to come along. And that’s Dante.” I pointed to the guy sulking in Cal’s tall shadow. Dante was about 5’7”, his father was black, his mother Korean. Dante had inherited the grapefruit biceps that were cantaloupes on his father- the cantaloupe shoulders that were bowling balls on his father. He showed all of that and his gym-rat chest in the clean, tight tank top he wore. It was blindingly white against his milky coffee skin. He nodded to Greg and Tim and let his head hang at a untrusting angle on his thick neck.
“Dante taught at a dojo.” I looked at him and smiled, “until he got fired or did they arrest you?”
Dante and Cal laughed.
“What….” Greg swallowed hard, “…what did you do?”
“Get these fucks out of here,” Tim said.
“Dante can show you something to help you out with your photos.”
“How’s that?” Tim was already erect. I saw something move in Greg’s sweatpants.
Dante let his head rear back, flexing his neck until it bulged thicker than his head. “I fucking snapped some faggot’s neck.”
Greg, instantly, had a huge tent in his sweatpants. He looked back at Tim.
“Are you guys gay?” Greg asked.
We all laughed.
“Why do you think I broke that little faggot’s neck?” Dante asked.
“I don’t know. I thought….It wasn’t while you guys were training?”
“No. It was in the fucking shower. He was trying to make a pass at me or something. I said he slipped in the shower.”
“Tell us what it felt like, Dante,” Cal said menacingly.
“Fucking… man…. Fuck!” Dante massaged his fist, his biceps bulged. They were huge.
Tim was staring at the biceps. In a level voice he said, “Greg, get them out of here.”
“Greg,” Cal said, “I thought I could show you some things I thought might make some cool photos!”
Greg began to walk past Cal to the front door- Cal, towering over Greg, reached out easily and captured Greg’s neck in the crook of his arm.
Tim, as expected, jumped to his boy’s defense.
“LET HIM GO AND GET THE FUCK…..”
Dante and I took Tim down. Tim wrestled himself onto his back, ripping my shirt almost off and Dante’s completely off. I quickly got his back and tried to snake an arm around his throat. Dante quickly clamped his legs around Tim’s torso. You could see his sweatpants swell as the quads began to work.
Greg began to shout ”What the fuck? What are you doing?”
Cal had ripped down Greg’s sweats and had an arm between his legs, lifting him off the ground.
“I want to get a picture of me snapping your spine. Backbreaker.”
Cal moved in front of the camera, carrying Greg. “someone’s gotta work the camera, fuck.”
“Fuck!” Greg sounded hopeless. He pawed at Cal’s long biceps and massive delts.
“Guys watch!” Cal dropped Greg across his knee, not with any seriously lethal intent. Greg arched back. His cock was so hard- dangling and pulsing with a surfeit of blood.
Tim reacted with fury as he watched from my tight sleeper.
Cal laughed and stroked Greg’s cock with one hand.
“Dude, Sean, you were right. Look. Fucking can’t wait for us to kill their faggot asses.”
Tim shouted, “I will fucking kill you. Let him go.”
“You’ll kill me? You little fucking girl. Dante, Sean, let him up.”
Cal pushed Greg off of him onto the floor. Greg gained his feet and ran to the front door. Dante was fast after him.
I watched Cal tease Tim, keeping him at arm-length like a little brother, laughing at him. Tim was still hard.
“Are we going to sword fight? Wait.” Cal pulled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants and underwear. “You guys like to fight like the Greeks, right? Just don’t be thinking you’re gonna suck this.” Cal grabbed his long cock. I had never seen him naked. He was beautifully built, like a bodybuilder had just been stretched a foot longer. His curly mop of hair did give him the look of a Greek wrestler when he bent toward Tim, circling, his hands slapping at Tim’s.
I pulled my clothes off. I was hard as a rock.
Dante carried a twisting Greg over to me. It looked funny, the 5 and a half foot guy carrying the muscular lanky guy. He dropped him at my feet and said, “Suck his cock!”
Greg hesitated. Dante reacted by sweeping Greg to the floor into an arm bar. I lowered my cock into Greg’s mouth and did push-ups over that mouth, my cock ready to explode in it. Greg’s moans at the pain that little muscle-monster was inflicting made it infinitely better.
“Hey Dante, rip his fucking arm off unless he sucks it better.”
Greg instantly adjusted his mouth around my cock, giving his humiliation some love.
“I’ll fucking snap his neck if he don’t eat that fucking cock good. You hear that motherfucker?”
Greg gave a sort of whimper.
I jumped up from my push-up blowjob and saw that huge Cal had taken Tim down and had him in a torturous rear naked choke. He was spitting on his hand and rubbing his cock wet.
“Is your asshole ready, asshole?” Cal laughed and shoved his cock in Tim’s ass.
The look on Tim’s face was shock, despair. His tongue protruded when Cal pulled him tighter onto his cock at each thrust. Cal’s bicep bulged against the muscular neck.
I took the opportunity to stick my cock in Tim’s mouth.
I heard Greg moan behind me. Dante had him kneeling. Dante was fucking him from behind while Greg watched his boyfriend be humiliated, choked, fucked and mouth-raped.
Cal’s body was in constant flex. His long hard muscles bulging with veins. He sneered as he fucked Tim, tightening the bicep around Tim’s throat when he wanted to plunge deeper in his ass. I pulled out of Tim’s mouth and turned to Greg. And Dante. My cock throbbing at the sight of Dante’s grapefruit biceps pulling at Greg’s hips. I felt one of them.
“Man!” I said. Dante flexed.
“watch what these can do…” When Dante pulled his cock out to leap up on Greg’s back, I heard scuffling behind me. Tim had gotten free and was headed for us. I was tackled. Tim and I rolled on the floor.
Dante and Cal were on their feet.
“Get that faggot!” they shouted to me.
Tim was fucking strong. I got his back.
“Choke him!”
I snaked an arm around his neck. He reacted by twisting away, but I was able to flip onto my back, his body writhing atop me.
“Break his fucking neck!”
Greg was still on all fours. He was watching hungrily.
“What do you want me to do with him, Greg?”
Greg just stared at Tim writhing, trying to free his neck.
“You want to see your stud boyfriend’s neck broken?”
He made eye contact with me. He was now kneeling, stroking his cock.
“Give me that shit,” Dante said. He pulled Tim out of my grip so easily I could not hold him. He got him on his knees and then spun him around, wrapping his huge black bicep around the throat.
“I came here for this here.”
Greg grabbed Tim’s hard cock. Tim moaned with helplessness.
“Watch these neck snappers,” Dante said.
Dante’s whole body flicked in one direction, his arms and Tim’s head in the other. Tim’s mouth was as far open as it could go, a choked scream came from behind his protruding tongue.
SNAP. Tim’s neck snapped. He shot onto Greg’s face.
Dante yelled, “YEAH!” He dropped Tim then grabbed his head and gave it a vicious shake like a dog shakes a toy. We heard the neck bones crack again. Tim’s face had a look of wide surprise. So did Greg’s.
“Fuck!” Cal said, “Now my boy…” He headed for Greg.
“No fucking way. He’s mine too.”
“Fuck you, Dante!”
Dante flew into Cal as Greg backed away, just in front of me. Cal was confident he could take care of himself but Dante was possessed with his neck-snapping lust.
Greg was brushing against my chest. When Dante had beaten Cal to gain his back, Cal wide-eyed with shock and terror. Facing us his long cock pointing right at us, I grabbed Greg’s neck in a sleeper.
“It’s only fair. It was my idea,” I said.
I walked Greg over, took him down and forced his gaping mouth onto Cal’s cock.
Cal squealed.
Dante jerked and arched and I saw that long muscular neck break and the head tilt and fall. Greg just had time to swallow the cum and SNAP… I snapped the faggot’s neck.
I never felt so powerful in my life. I flipped Greg over onto Cal’s torso, and stroked his beautiful fucking face. I kissed him on the lips while I jerked myself off. Dante jerked off to his body in a mirror over his kills.
Greg was very wet and very dead.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
A story for Greg V. by Sean Masters
Warning: Extraordinarily fucked up story- graphic sexual content and violent beyond reason.
Jack J busted rocks up at my cousin’s place- a fourteen acre lot with a house half built. Most of the framing was up- the 3-car garage at least had several chipboard walls. My cousin Eddie had taken me up there to show it off. He didn’t say where he had found Jack- the road from the city jail, by the looks of him. The other 2 were fresh off a parking lot. Jack kicked a few busted rocks over to one of these day-labor Mexican boys that carried them to where the patio was being laid out.
I knew that the guy I had just met online, Greg, would love this sight. The arms on Jack J would make a straight man catch his breath. Later that week I arranged to pick up Greg. He was in a wife-beater, sinewy as hell- he looked like he could take care of himself, if it came to that. We headed for the work site.
“You’re not going to believe this guy,” I said as we pulled up the unpaved road.
“Fuck!” Greg said when Jack came into view. The light caught the blond curly hair, the hard face and the round shoulders and biceps.
The 2 day-labor Mexican boys waved at our car.
“Hey Jack!” I called, “I’m Eddie’s cousin, Sean. Have you seen him up here today?”
Jack spit in the rock dust at his feet and squinted at us in the hot sun.
“Yeah, he’s been here.”
“This is my friend Greg.” Greg offered a hand.
Jack ignored Greg and yelled at the Mexican boys.
“What the fuck are you stopping for? Move this shit!”
He shook his head, “Fucking lazy. I have to break these and fucking haul them, while they arrange about a dozen in a row then take a break.”
Jack wiped his forehead with his forearm, his baseball-sized bicep jumped up in high relief.
One of the Mexican guys responded in Spanish to the derisive laughter of his friend.
“What the fuck did you say?”
Greg said, “I think he called you a… something like a spoiled white boy and said he should just break your neck and then they could take your truck and head out.”
It escalated pretty quickly. Greg smiled like it was his birthday. Luckily neither the day-laborers nor Jack knew a word of the others languages.
After Jack knocked the first Mexican down and kneeled on his chest, one hand locked on his throat. He putt a finger in the thick kid’s face and shouted. The other guy pulled at one of Jack’s huge shoulders. Jack just turned and gave him a push. All 150 pounds of him reached and grabbed Jack’s wrist and hung on.
“Looks like a free-for-all,” Greg said. I noticed Greg had a massive hard-on he was massaging from a pocket.
“We’re gonna have to jump in there at some point you know…. 2 on one.”
Just as I said that Jack knocked the taller, leaner Mexican to the ground with an elbow that left him out of the action. Jack grabbed the other one, the one who had probably been surprised that his comment to his friend had incited such a dangerous rage in the white boy, and dragged him along the ground by his wife—beater until it was torn off. He made a garrote from it and turning his boy towards us began to display some strangling moves.
The boy had a thick, muscular torso and a thick neck that flexed in the noose of his shirt.
Greg walked over to the flailing Mexican boy. Taunting: “Who’s gonna break whose neck, huh boy?”
Jack and I both saw the lean Mexican jump Greg. Neither one of us saw a reason not to let it happen.
Greg is built like a kickboxer. Tall, no fat, all muscle. He probably had 30 pounds of muscle advantage and a long reach. Also I knew he loved to play around with wrestling scenarios so he must have had some skills.
Jack dropped the stunned half strangled kid and watched the new fight with me.
“You can have that one if you want to flex some muscle yourself” Jack said to me.
I looked at the poor guy just beginning to stir.
“Well, you didn’t kill him,” I said.
“Not yet.”
“Don’t know why he took you on. Arms like those, fuck!”
“You know- you’re a big guy too.” Jack slapped my chest. “I guess when you’re young, you just want to see how you match up against a bigger guy.”
Greg was taking some wild punches in his abdomen. His shirt was ripped off and he was trying to control the head of the lean guy.
“You gonna help your boyfriend. Go on! Flex a big muscle for your lady.”
“I might flex my dick up his ass” I said.
“Your boyfriend like that?”
“Hell yeah!”
Greg was now on his back, the lean Mexican was on top choking him with his hands.
Jack walked over and pulled them apart with ease. He dragged the Mexican and with a hand on Greg’s forearm pulled him after. They went into the partially finished garage.
I heard Jack shouting. I saw Greg crumple with a punch to the abdomen. I could see Jack’s huge shoulders bulge when his fist made contact.
The next thing I knew I was on the ground. I had about 175 pounds of pissed-off Mexican muscle on my back, punching me in the head, then trying to snake a bicep around my throat.
I pivoted and threw the guy. I grabbed one ankle and pulled him to me. I crawled up his body. He was dense, hard to still. It was a punch to the face that finally turned him so I could get him in a bearhug.
He nearly cried with the crushing pressure of my arms. I released him, picked him up and pushed him towards the garage.
Greg was on all fours being fucked by the lean Mexican. Jack had his cock out, stroking it. He nodded at me, walked around and put his big cock in Greg’s mouth. I walked my silent captive right up to them, my hard dick pressed against his ass.
The lean Mexican fucking Greg seemed to be pushed to climax by the sight of his friend watching the action. His eyes grew large and he shot in Greg’s ass.
“Your turn,” I said. I pulled down my guy’s pants.
Greg pulled his mouth off of Jacks cock and said. No I’m done.
“Done?” Jack said. “You are fucking done when I’m done.”
Greg stood up and started to scramble towards me, out of the garage. I caught him with an arm around his throat.
“No man, let me go!”
“Hold him.”
“Yeah. I got him.”
“C’mon Sean. He fucking let that kid fuck me in the ass.”
Jack was trying to wrestle the muscular Mexican down, both of them had their pants around their ankles. The lean one, who was still naked, jumped in to help his friend. The other two kicked and pulled their pants off and it was all limbs.
“Let’s watch this,” I said walking Greg over, his neck still squeezed against my bicep.
Jack had the lean Mexican in a body scissor. His legs swelled hugely. The muscular one was in a reverse chokehold. He alternated squeezing, one then the other.
“Fuck,” I said, “you know you want to see those necks snap.”
“Yeah… yeah I do.” Greg was hard now. His cock was throbbing with his pulse.
“C’mon Jack, break a neck for us.”
“How about a rib?” Jack arched his back with the effort, his legs pumped up huge. The lean Mexican boy in between his legs moaned before the air was gone.
Snap, crack.
‘Two ribs.”
There was a squeal, then the guy must have passed out.
“Shit.” I didn’t want to just come in my pants. I wanted to split open the muscled butt I controlled in front of me. I pulled down my pants, spit on my cock and rammed it in Greg, arching his back so I could keep his neck trapped in my arm.
“Yeah!” Jack said. He let go of both his guys, scrambled up and pulled the muscular Mexican over to us by the hair.
“Watch this,” he said. He got the Mexican on his stomach, his arm under the guys chin, pulling him back in a camel clutch just so his mouth was below Greg’s cock.
Greg took my cock with more and more excitement.
“I know what will make him come.”
“What?”
“Break that guy’s thick fucking neck.”
My heart was racing.
“Yeah? Alright. No loss, huh? Fucking punk.”
Jack adjusted himself on the guy’s back. I let go of Greg’s neck. He leaned over, pumping his own cock. Jack pulled up on the head, hard. The kid’s face and Greg’s face touched. Greg was licking the kid’s lips, the head went back further, Jack’s knee pressed down on the spine, Jack’s arms were all fucking veins.
“Noooooooo!” The guy yelled.
Jack snapped it. A snap of the neck so fucking loud it sounded like a tree splintering. The face went up. Greg shot his come all over the guy.
We had one problem left. Our dead friend’s pal with the busted ribs.
“Break his neck,” Jack said to Greg. “He fucked you raw boy. Go on.”
Greg hesitated.
“You break his neck or I’ll snap yours.”
That caused Greg’s just-emptied dick to swell again.
“Just give it a twist,” I said. I knew the sight of those tight muscles twisting that long neck on that boy would make me shoot.
Greg walked over to where the boy was moaning, holding his ribs.
“It’s me or you, buddy.”
Greg got on his knees behind the guy and pulled him up till they were back-to-chest.
“Wait a second. Show him your biceps,” I said. “Flex for the little fuck.”
Greg flexed his biceps alongside the guy’s head. He turned and I saw a look of fear in his eyes.
“These are bi’s,” Jack said, flexing down so the kid could almost taste his baseball biceps.
I pumped my cock slowly, waiting.
Greg’s muscles were in perfect display as he grabbed the chin with one hand, the back of the head with the other, and pulled.
I shot. The kid’s head turned up to the ceiling, scooted down along Greg’s torso and hit the floor.
Jack was quick to decide how he would come.
He pulled Greg by the hair over to me.
“Get your boyfriend in a good sleeper. Hold him tight.”
I pulled Greg up to my chest, wrapped an arm around his neck. Jack picked up his legs, dropped his hands under Greg’s ass and fucked him as we held him up… me by the neck, Greg by the ass.
“I’m getting close. Are you ready?”
Greg gave out a panicked scream.
I squeezed his neck harder.
“This guy is all fucking muscle. I can’t break his neck. It won’t fucking break!”
Greg was fully erect again.
“TRY!”
I squeezed and torqued Greg’s head. I felt it give a little, but not much.
I dropped my half of his body, so Jack had to drop his half. Greg was quick to tackle me at the knees, but Jack was quicker and had Greg in the same neck-snapping camel clutch that he had killed the kid with.
“I really loved when you licked that boy’s lips as he got his neck snapped,” I said. I leaned down, my face to his.
“You sick piece,” I said, licking his lips.
Greg yelled “YAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
SNAP! Greg’s neck snapped so fast the back of his head bounced off his own back and fell forward.
Jack laughed like a good ol boy.
We jacked off over Greg.
Jack J busted rocks up at my cousin’s place- a fourteen acre lot with a house half built. Most of the framing was up- the 3-car garage at least had several chipboard walls. My cousin Eddie had taken me up there to show it off. He didn’t say where he had found Jack- the road from the city jail, by the looks of him. The other 2 were fresh off a parking lot. Jack kicked a few busted rocks over to one of these day-labor Mexican boys that carried them to where the patio was being laid out.
I knew that the guy I had just met online, Greg, would love this sight. The arms on Jack J would make a straight man catch his breath. Later that week I arranged to pick up Greg. He was in a wife-beater, sinewy as hell- he looked like he could take care of himself, if it came to that. We headed for the work site.
“You’re not going to believe this guy,” I said as we pulled up the unpaved road.
“Fuck!” Greg said when Jack came into view. The light caught the blond curly hair, the hard face and the round shoulders and biceps.
The 2 day-labor Mexican boys waved at our car.
“Hey Jack!” I called, “I’m Eddie’s cousin, Sean. Have you seen him up here today?”
Jack spit in the rock dust at his feet and squinted at us in the hot sun.
“Yeah, he’s been here.”
“This is my friend Greg.” Greg offered a hand.
Jack ignored Greg and yelled at the Mexican boys.
“What the fuck are you stopping for? Move this shit!”
He shook his head, “Fucking lazy. I have to break these and fucking haul them, while they arrange about a dozen in a row then take a break.”
Jack wiped his forehead with his forearm, his baseball-sized bicep jumped up in high relief.
One of the Mexican guys responded in Spanish to the derisive laughter of his friend.
“What the fuck did you say?”
Greg said, “I think he called you a… something like a spoiled white boy and said he should just break your neck and then they could take your truck and head out.”
It escalated pretty quickly. Greg smiled like it was his birthday. Luckily neither the day-laborers nor Jack knew a word of the others languages.
After Jack knocked the first Mexican down and kneeled on his chest, one hand locked on his throat. He putt a finger in the thick kid’s face and shouted. The other guy pulled at one of Jack’s huge shoulders. Jack just turned and gave him a push. All 150 pounds of him reached and grabbed Jack’s wrist and hung on.
“Looks like a free-for-all,” Greg said. I noticed Greg had a massive hard-on he was massaging from a pocket.
“We’re gonna have to jump in there at some point you know…. 2 on one.”
Just as I said that Jack knocked the taller, leaner Mexican to the ground with an elbow that left him out of the action. Jack grabbed the other one, the one who had probably been surprised that his comment to his friend had incited such a dangerous rage in the white boy, and dragged him along the ground by his wife—beater until it was torn off. He made a garrote from it and turning his boy towards us began to display some strangling moves.
The boy had a thick, muscular torso and a thick neck that flexed in the noose of his shirt.
Greg walked over to the flailing Mexican boy. Taunting: “Who’s gonna break whose neck, huh boy?”
Jack and I both saw the lean Mexican jump Greg. Neither one of us saw a reason not to let it happen.
Greg is built like a kickboxer. Tall, no fat, all muscle. He probably had 30 pounds of muscle advantage and a long reach. Also I knew he loved to play around with wrestling scenarios so he must have had some skills.
Jack dropped the stunned half strangled kid and watched the new fight with me.
“You can have that one if you want to flex some muscle yourself” Jack said to me.
I looked at the poor guy just beginning to stir.
“Well, you didn’t kill him,” I said.
“Not yet.”
“Don’t know why he took you on. Arms like those, fuck!”
“You know- you’re a big guy too.” Jack slapped my chest. “I guess when you’re young, you just want to see how you match up against a bigger guy.”
Greg was taking some wild punches in his abdomen. His shirt was ripped off and he was trying to control the head of the lean guy.
“You gonna help your boyfriend. Go on! Flex a big muscle for your lady.”
“I might flex my dick up his ass” I said.
“Your boyfriend like that?”
“Hell yeah!”
Greg was now on his back, the lean Mexican was on top choking him with his hands.
Jack walked over and pulled them apart with ease. He dragged the Mexican and with a hand on Greg’s forearm pulled him after. They went into the partially finished garage.
I heard Jack shouting. I saw Greg crumple with a punch to the abdomen. I could see Jack’s huge shoulders bulge when his fist made contact.
The next thing I knew I was on the ground. I had about 175 pounds of pissed-off Mexican muscle on my back, punching me in the head, then trying to snake a bicep around my throat.
I pivoted and threw the guy. I grabbed one ankle and pulled him to me. I crawled up his body. He was dense, hard to still. It was a punch to the face that finally turned him so I could get him in a bearhug.
He nearly cried with the crushing pressure of my arms. I released him, picked him up and pushed him towards the garage.
Greg was on all fours being fucked by the lean Mexican. Jack had his cock out, stroking it. He nodded at me, walked around and put his big cock in Greg’s mouth. I walked my silent captive right up to them, my hard dick pressed against his ass.
The lean Mexican fucking Greg seemed to be pushed to climax by the sight of his friend watching the action. His eyes grew large and he shot in Greg’s ass.
“Your turn,” I said. I pulled down my guy’s pants.
Greg pulled his mouth off of Jacks cock and said. No I’m done.
“Done?” Jack said. “You are fucking done when I’m done.”
Greg stood up and started to scramble towards me, out of the garage. I caught him with an arm around his throat.
“No man, let me go!”
“Hold him.”
“Yeah. I got him.”
“C’mon Sean. He fucking let that kid fuck me in the ass.”
Jack was trying to wrestle the muscular Mexican down, both of them had their pants around their ankles. The lean one, who was still naked, jumped in to help his friend. The other two kicked and pulled their pants off and it was all limbs.
“Let’s watch this,” I said walking Greg over, his neck still squeezed against my bicep.
Jack had the lean Mexican in a body scissor. His legs swelled hugely. The muscular one was in a reverse chokehold. He alternated squeezing, one then the other.
“Fuck,” I said, “you know you want to see those necks snap.”
“Yeah… yeah I do.” Greg was hard now. His cock was throbbing with his pulse.
“C’mon Jack, break a neck for us.”
“How about a rib?” Jack arched his back with the effort, his legs pumped up huge. The lean Mexican boy in between his legs moaned before the air was gone.
Snap, crack.
‘Two ribs.”
There was a squeal, then the guy must have passed out.
“Shit.” I didn’t want to just come in my pants. I wanted to split open the muscled butt I controlled in front of me. I pulled down my pants, spit on my cock and rammed it in Greg, arching his back so I could keep his neck trapped in my arm.
“Yeah!” Jack said. He let go of both his guys, scrambled up and pulled the muscular Mexican over to us by the hair.
“Watch this,” he said. He got the Mexican on his stomach, his arm under the guys chin, pulling him back in a camel clutch just so his mouth was below Greg’s cock.
Greg took my cock with more and more excitement.
“I know what will make him come.”
“What?”
“Break that guy’s thick fucking neck.”
My heart was racing.
“Yeah? Alright. No loss, huh? Fucking punk.”
Jack adjusted himself on the guy’s back. I let go of Greg’s neck. He leaned over, pumping his own cock. Jack pulled up on the head, hard. The kid’s face and Greg’s face touched. Greg was licking the kid’s lips, the head went back further, Jack’s knee pressed down on the spine, Jack’s arms were all fucking veins.
“Noooooooo!” The guy yelled.
Jack snapped it. A snap of the neck so fucking loud it sounded like a tree splintering. The face went up. Greg shot his come all over the guy.
We had one problem left. Our dead friend’s pal with the busted ribs.
“Break his neck,” Jack said to Greg. “He fucked you raw boy. Go on.”
Greg hesitated.
“You break his neck or I’ll snap yours.”
That caused Greg’s just-emptied dick to swell again.
“Just give it a twist,” I said. I knew the sight of those tight muscles twisting that long neck on that boy would make me shoot.
Greg walked over to where the boy was moaning, holding his ribs.
“It’s me or you, buddy.”
Greg got on his knees behind the guy and pulled him up till they were back-to-chest.
“Wait a second. Show him your biceps,” I said. “Flex for the little fuck.”
Greg flexed his biceps alongside the guy’s head. He turned and I saw a look of fear in his eyes.
“These are bi’s,” Jack said, flexing down so the kid could almost taste his baseball biceps.
I pumped my cock slowly, waiting.
Greg’s muscles were in perfect display as he grabbed the chin with one hand, the back of the head with the other, and pulled.
I shot. The kid’s head turned up to the ceiling, scooted down along Greg’s torso and hit the floor.
Jack was quick to decide how he would come.
He pulled Greg by the hair over to me.
“Get your boyfriend in a good sleeper. Hold him tight.”
I pulled Greg up to my chest, wrapped an arm around his neck. Jack picked up his legs, dropped his hands under Greg’s ass and fucked him as we held him up… me by the neck, Greg by the ass.
“I’m getting close. Are you ready?”
Greg gave out a panicked scream.
I squeezed his neck harder.
“This guy is all fucking muscle. I can’t break his neck. It won’t fucking break!”
Greg was fully erect again.
“TRY!”
I squeezed and torqued Greg’s head. I felt it give a little, but not much.
I dropped my half of his body, so Jack had to drop his half. Greg was quick to tackle me at the knees, but Jack was quicker and had Greg in the same neck-snapping camel clutch that he had killed the kid with.
“I really loved when you licked that boy’s lips as he got his neck snapped,” I said. I leaned down, my face to his.
“You sick piece,” I said, licking his lips.
Greg yelled “YAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
SNAP! Greg’s neck snapped so fast the back of his head bounced off his own back and fell forward.
Jack laughed like a good ol boy.
We jacked off over Greg.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
NEW STORY! Very hot one from gregvictim@yahoo.com>
This is a fight club type scenario where Greg meets up
with a small, slender Hispanic boy named Luis. Greg's
5'10" 150 lbs. of slim but powerful muscle goes up
against the little 5'4" 120 lb. street hustler who's
much weaker than Greg but more hardened. They approach
each other on mats laid out in the middle of a large
gay club or warehouse, excited fags all around them
waiting for blood. Greg easily tosses Luis around at
first, but soon the little latino starts to
demonstrate his superior skills. After several minutes
Luis has begun to dominate the bigger boy, Greg's
humiliation growing as their mismatched bodies roll
about.
Once he is firmly under the boy's control Greg's small
and pathetic but beautiful penis grows to its fullest
erection. His own cock expanding to much greater size,
Luis ridicules Greg's puny manhood mercilessly as he
puts the white muscletwink out again and again with
sleepers, chokes, punches, smothers, kicks, stomps.
All the while Greg's rigid erection points straight up
as he is stood up barely conscious to be flattened
again, while members of the crowd add their voices to
the chorus of degradation. Shouted comments like,
"You're so fucking weak!" "You're not even a man!"
"Put that pathetic, tiny-dicked bitch down for good!"
echo through the space as they struggle. Actually,
Greg struggles, his tiny tormentor is having an easy
time of it with Greg's pale, smooth, sweaty, muscular
but helpless physique.
Finally, as Greg stands limp, panting, dripping and
half senseless, the little bastard unleashes a
ruthless barrage. Kicks, punches, knees and elbows
rain down on the slack muscles of Greg's washboard
belly and ripped chest, balls, groin, face and
finally, neck. Gasping and gurgling, Greg plummets
straight back, cock, balls and limp glistening muscles
bouncing on impact with the mat, arms and legs flying
out to lie motionless stretched out from his twitching
body. Deeply unconscious, he lies inert with eyes and
mouth wide open as the boy straddles Greg's face and
begins to fuck his mouth.
As the audience screams in a rage of sexual ecstacy
and bloodlust, Greg remains completely KO'd for at
least ten minutes as his body is used and violated
every which way by the small yet virile victor.
Rocking under the pelvic thrusts of Luis, the pale
dormant body accommodates his driving energy. His
rockhard little cock and shallow breathing are only
the signs that Greg's alive as he is filled, ass and
mouth, over and over with the tiny conqueror's copious
seed. Finally Greg awakens to Luis' plundering of his
ass. Moaning like a teenage girl, Greg cums violently
as his ass is plumbed by the thick brown cock, his
throat with Luis' tongue, and he is easily strangled
back to sleep. After he dumps his sixth load into the
fair-skinned physique, the Hispanic terror is finally
unable to make further use of Greg. So he picks 5 hung
studs from the audience to come out and molest and use
Greg for their pleasure and that of the crowd. Hairy
and smooth, muscular, thin and stocky, white, brown,
black and yellow, these men pillage the end of Greg's
innocence for all it's worth. Tossed this way and
that, crying as he's forced to service them while
conscious, then punched or choked out and molested or
penetrated as he sleeps, Greg's load shoots over and
over. Finally spent, the men return to the crowd.
By now Greg's subjugator has rested enough for one
final blast. He slaps the conquered bitchboy awake and
forces him to stand, legs apart. Arms hanging, cum
oozing from his mouth and ass, down his chest and
swelling his belly, Greg can only obey Luis' commands
and can barely even do that. Luis stands behind the
taller boy and sinks his big organ into Greg's
collapsed and wrecked asshole one more time. As
damaged as Greg is, he still lets out an ecstatic moan
of destroyed, disgraced, unbearable arousal. Thrusting
into his victim's ass, jerking and jiggling his
hapless body, Luis places one hand on Greg's forehead
and with the other grasps Greg's chin. Slowly, he
twists the head to the right as Greg reaches up to
grab his wrists. But Greg's grip is more of a caress
than a credible attempt to stop what's happening.
Reaching the point where it's starting to really be
strained, Greg's neck begins stretching and the pain
starts. Then the real resistance is met and the first
cracks are heard. If it's possible, Greg's deficient
little cock gets even harder than it's been and his
hips begin to slowly gyrate as he cries out.
"Don't do this!" the silky white musclejobber begs
through his trapped jaw. His engorged pink nipples are
poking out like pencil erasers. But the pressure
continues. Pop go whiteboy's vertebrae and his pelvis
is now rocking hard; thighs, pecs and abs rippling;
penis jumping. "No, please!" Greg cries, though his
body seems to scream the opposite. Juicy cock ramming
in and out of his anus, torso in spasms, Greg hears a
loud crunching and his arms fall limp to his sides.
"EEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" Searing pain but Greg can still
feel his body as his spinal cord receives its first
damage. His neck continues to be dragged to an
increasingly unnatural angle to the sounds of more
pops and crunches. His hips undulating wildly, Greg
screams, "NO, GOD, PLEASE DON'T!! OH MY GOD
NOOOOO!!!!" and the cum starts flying from his cock.
One last vicious jerk yanks Greg's head to an utterly
impossible position, but the squirting continues.
"Die, you worthless cunt!" says the murderous little
Luis as the destroyed muscular body, still shooting
and convulsing, drops to its spread knees. Greg's head
is pointed straight up and is turned to the right so
that it's looking almost backward. Greg no longer
punctuates the now silent room with his miserable
unmanly cries for mercy. Instead, he merely says
something like, "Glurk bllggggttht bbbll." He's still
conscious and though paralyzed can still feel
unbelievable pain and also his dying body STILL firing
strings of jism. The boy, standing behind Greg's
kneeling, teetering body and jerking off, kicks him in
the back. Greg flops face down with a wet thud, ass in
the air, open, sucking, sperm-gushing anus pulsing
away, perverted little rockhard cock still splattering
its fatal final gusher. Still masturbating over him,
the slayer winds up and kicks Greg's balls with full
force, completely rupturing and demolishing them. Then
he stomps on Greg's quivering asshole as he begins
tossing rope after enormous rope of his semen onto his
back, the back of his neck, and his unnaturally
backward-pointing face. Eyes open and rolled up, a
flood of jism from six different men pours from Greg's
gaping mouth onto the mat as his shamed, soaked body
bucks and convulses its last. The substance coming out
in the last few jets from Greg's penis is a thick red
& white soup from Greg's destroyed testicles.
Finishing, the winner stands over the dying body and
says, "Being a loser, sex slave and rape murder victim
was about all you were ever any good for. But you were
great for that," then kicks the slaughtered sucker in
the face and walks away.
This is a fight club type scenario where Greg meets up
with a small, slender Hispanic boy named Luis. Greg's
5'10" 150 lbs. of slim but powerful muscle goes up
against the little 5'4" 120 lb. street hustler who's
much weaker than Greg but more hardened. They approach
each other on mats laid out in the middle of a large
gay club or warehouse, excited fags all around them
waiting for blood. Greg easily tosses Luis around at
first, but soon the little latino starts to
demonstrate his superior skills. After several minutes
Luis has begun to dominate the bigger boy, Greg's
humiliation growing as their mismatched bodies roll
about.
Once he is firmly under the boy's control Greg's small
and pathetic but beautiful penis grows to its fullest
erection. His own cock expanding to much greater size,
Luis ridicules Greg's puny manhood mercilessly as he
puts the white muscletwink out again and again with
sleepers, chokes, punches, smothers, kicks, stomps.
All the while Greg's rigid erection points straight up
as he is stood up barely conscious to be flattened
again, while members of the crowd add their voices to
the chorus of degradation. Shouted comments like,
"You're so fucking weak!" "You're not even a man!"
"Put that pathetic, tiny-dicked bitch down for good!"
echo through the space as they struggle. Actually,
Greg struggles, his tiny tormentor is having an easy
time of it with Greg's pale, smooth, sweaty, muscular
but helpless physique.
Finally, as Greg stands limp, panting, dripping and
half senseless, the little bastard unleashes a
ruthless barrage. Kicks, punches, knees and elbows
rain down on the slack muscles of Greg's washboard
belly and ripped chest, balls, groin, face and
finally, neck. Gasping and gurgling, Greg plummets
straight back, cock, balls and limp glistening muscles
bouncing on impact with the mat, arms and legs flying
out to lie motionless stretched out from his twitching
body. Deeply unconscious, he lies inert with eyes and
mouth wide open as the boy straddles Greg's face and
begins to fuck his mouth.
As the audience screams in a rage of sexual ecstacy
and bloodlust, Greg remains completely KO'd for at
least ten minutes as his body is used and violated
every which way by the small yet virile victor.
Rocking under the pelvic thrusts of Luis, the pale
dormant body accommodates his driving energy. His
rockhard little cock and shallow breathing are only
the signs that Greg's alive as he is filled, ass and
mouth, over and over with the tiny conqueror's copious
seed. Finally Greg awakens to Luis' plundering of his
ass. Moaning like a teenage girl, Greg cums violently
as his ass is plumbed by the thick brown cock, his
throat with Luis' tongue, and he is easily strangled
back to sleep. After he dumps his sixth load into the
fair-skinned physique, the Hispanic terror is finally
unable to make further use of Greg. So he picks 5 hung
studs from the audience to come out and molest and use
Greg for their pleasure and that of the crowd. Hairy
and smooth, muscular, thin and stocky, white, brown,
black and yellow, these men pillage the end of Greg's
innocence for all it's worth. Tossed this way and
that, crying as he's forced to service them while
conscious, then punched or choked out and molested or
penetrated as he sleeps, Greg's load shoots over and
over. Finally spent, the men return to the crowd.
By now Greg's subjugator has rested enough for one
final blast. He slaps the conquered bitchboy awake and
forces him to stand, legs apart. Arms hanging, cum
oozing from his mouth and ass, down his chest and
swelling his belly, Greg can only obey Luis' commands
and can barely even do that. Luis stands behind the
taller boy and sinks his big organ into Greg's
collapsed and wrecked asshole one more time. As
damaged as Greg is, he still lets out an ecstatic moan
of destroyed, disgraced, unbearable arousal. Thrusting
into his victim's ass, jerking and jiggling his
hapless body, Luis places one hand on Greg's forehead
and with the other grasps Greg's chin. Slowly, he
twists the head to the right as Greg reaches up to
grab his wrists. But Greg's grip is more of a caress
than a credible attempt to stop what's happening.
Reaching the point where it's starting to really be
strained, Greg's neck begins stretching and the pain
starts. Then the real resistance is met and the first
cracks are heard. If it's possible, Greg's deficient
little cock gets even harder than it's been and his
hips begin to slowly gyrate as he cries out.
"Don't do this!" the silky white musclejobber begs
through his trapped jaw. His engorged pink nipples are
poking out like pencil erasers. But the pressure
continues. Pop go whiteboy's vertebrae and his pelvis
is now rocking hard; thighs, pecs and abs rippling;
penis jumping. "No, please!" Greg cries, though his
body seems to scream the opposite. Juicy cock ramming
in and out of his anus, torso in spasms, Greg hears a
loud crunching and his arms fall limp to his sides.
"EEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" Searing pain but Greg can still
feel his body as his spinal cord receives its first
damage. His neck continues to be dragged to an
increasingly unnatural angle to the sounds of more
pops and crunches. His hips undulating wildly, Greg
screams, "NO, GOD, PLEASE DON'T!! OH MY GOD
NOOOOO!!!!" and the cum starts flying from his cock.
One last vicious jerk yanks Greg's head to an utterly
impossible position, but the squirting continues.
"Die, you worthless cunt!" says the murderous little
Luis as the destroyed muscular body, still shooting
and convulsing, drops to its spread knees. Greg's head
is pointed straight up and is turned to the right so
that it's looking almost backward. Greg no longer
punctuates the now silent room with his miserable
unmanly cries for mercy. Instead, he merely says
something like, "Glurk bllggggttht bbbll." He's still
conscious and though paralyzed can still feel
unbelievable pain and also his dying body STILL firing
strings of jism. The boy, standing behind Greg's
kneeling, teetering body and jerking off, kicks him in
the back. Greg flops face down with a wet thud, ass in
the air, open, sucking, sperm-gushing anus pulsing
away, perverted little rockhard cock still splattering
its fatal final gusher. Still masturbating over him,
the slayer winds up and kicks Greg's balls with full
force, completely rupturing and demolishing them. Then
he stomps on Greg's quivering asshole as he begins
tossing rope after enormous rope of his semen onto his
back, the back of his neck, and his unnaturally
backward-pointing face. Eyes open and rolled up, a
flood of jism from six different men pours from Greg's
gaping mouth onto the mat as his shamed, soaked body
bucks and convulses its last. The substance coming out
in the last few jets from Greg's penis is a thick red
& white soup from Greg's destroyed testicles.
Finishing, the winner stands over the dying body and
says, "Being a loser, sex slave and rape murder victim
was about all you were ever any good for. But you were
great for that," then kicks the slaughtered sucker in
the face and walks away.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
This is fucking global
It looks like we've got a lot of action fans here in the U.S. but we've also got guys from Canada, Greece, Poland, Germany, Sweden & the U.K. dropping in. Now I know you guys probably have some Euro-Stallone or Jean-Claude Van(Couver) Damme of whom we are ignorant. You see where I'm going here? Send us screen caps or clips of your favorite obscure action star- let us know if you need technical help.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
NEW STORY! Thanks to zebrajg@optonline.net
KILLING A CHEATER
Brett came back to the room after classes, showered, dressed in shorts and a tight muscle T-shirt, and looked into the mirror before going out again. What he saw looking back at him in the mirror was a blond muscular hunk, buzzed hair, blue eyes, pronounced biceps, well rounded pectorals bursting from the T-shirt, thick muscular thighs and good looking legs, With that image carried with him he left the room and headed for his boy friend’s room in another dorm.
Chad had been Brett’s boy friend for 3 years. He was a year behind Brett in college and at their first coming together he had been Brett’s boy toy. But as the years went by Chad grew into a young muscular Adonis with a face that drove other studs wild. He had blond hair, eyes that beckoned, smooth skin, well developed shoulders and biceps, a slim muscular waist, a fuckable ass, and GQ model thighs and legs. His dorm room was on the top floor and next to an unoccupied room which gave him some privacy.
When Brett arrived at Chad’s room he found Chad looking very depressed. This bothered Brett because he had come over relieve his swollen sacs with Chad’s delicious ass. Finding Chad moody took the edge off of Brett’s lust and he immediately wanted to know what was bothering Chad. At first Chad just shrugged it off but Brett wouldn’t let it go at that and demanded to know more. Having Chad like that ruined Brett’s desire to feel all of Chad’s gorgeous body and then fuck him full of cum. When Chad still would not say anything Brett got angry and pinned him to the bed saying “tell me what’s bothering you or you won’t have my big fat cock for your enjoyment”.
Brett still got no answer from Chad so he figured maybe Chad was playing coy or was teasing him to get a more brutal fucking that he loved. But Brett was not waiting for any more games as he wanted Chad’s sweet ass right then. So he roughly flipped Chad over onto his stomach and spread Chad’s legs apart as he ripped his shorts off. But when he tried to lie on Chad’s back Chad squirmed away and turned over. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON CHAD? Brett growled. Finally Chad spoke and said “my ass is too brutalized for you to take me now”. This hit Brett smack in the face and with mixed anger and puzzlement he said, not kindly, AND WHY THE FUCK IS THAT? HOW THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN?” For a moment Chad did not respond but then said in almost a whisper “I was raped”.
Bret remained stunned by what Chad said. He then exploded “WHEN – WHAT’S THE COCKSUCKERS NAME – TELL ME!!!!. Chad shrank back on the bed and saw the look in Brett’s eyes so he knew he couldn’t escape from telling Brett what he wanted to know. “The guy’s name is Rod and he lives alone off campus at 11 River Street. I went there because he said he could help me in my Chemistry work but he tricked me and I was not strong enough to fight him off. That’s when he raped me”. When Chad stopped he cringed even more when he saw the blazing look in Brett’s eyes.
Brett grabbed his shorts and almost tore them so rapidly did he got them on. Then without a word to Chad he left the room slamming the door behind him. Chad had no illusions about where Brett was going and for a minute he contemplated phoning Rod to warn him of Brett’s intentions. But he finally decided against it because he was afraid of what Brett would do to him if he found out that he had alerted Rod to his impending danger.
Brett meanwhile wasted no time in charging over to 11 River Street. When he arrived there he knocked on the door and was greeted by a good looking muscular stud attired only in his jockey briefs. When Rod asked Brett what he wanted Brett told him that he desperately needed tutoring. When Rod stated that he could not take him at that moment but if he would come back later he would be glad to help him. Brett answered that by saying that he needed the help right now because he was having a test later in the day and coming back later would not help him. As this conversation was in progress Brett sized up his intended victim and saw that Rod had really good muscles, blond crew cut hair, blue eyes, and very strong thighs. All of this would help him decide how to dismantle this fucking rapist.
After a few minutes Rod relented and led Brett into his apartment which consisted of a desk, a chair, a kitchenette, and a large bed. There were no rugs on the floor leaving a big open space in the middle of the room. Brett followed Rod into the room until Rod was just about in the middle, all the while stripping his T-shirt off and cut-off shorts. When Rod was about to turn around Brett came up behind him and wrapped his muscular arms around Rod’s neck. The attack was so sudden and unsuspected that Rod did not respond right away which allowed Brett’s hold to really squeeze tight before Rod reacted. When Rod did respond it was with swiftness as he reached back and grabbed Brett’s head and monkey flipped him over onto the bed. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT” Rod said as he advanced to the bed. “THAT WAS ABOUT A FUCKING RAPIST THAT’S WHAT” said Brett as he launched himself off the bed and into a bicep bulging front bear hug around Rod’s muscular chest.
Rod instantly placed his hands against Brett’s chin and forced Brett’s head back. It then became a test of strength to see if Rod’s back would give or Brett’s neck. In the end Brett won because he had the hug well placed and his muscular arms crushed Rod to him and nearly snapped his spine. I’M GOING TO BREAK YOUR BACK YOU FUCKING RAPIST” snarled Brett as he continued to bend Rod’s back. “What…eeehh…are you talking…aaagggrrr…about” “RAPING CHAD IS WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT”. “You’re out…aaaaaggg…of you…..mind…aagggrrr….I never…aaagggrr…raped him…he wanted…aaaggg…to have me fuck him…aaaggrr,….”
This new news sent Brett into a towering rage. Not only had Rod fucked him with Chad’s desire but he had fucked his boy toy. Brett threw Rod onto the bed face forward and mounted his back. His mammoth cock was fully engorged and he rammed it hard at Rod’s asshole. When it did not penetrate he rammed it even harder until the bulbous
head slipped in. But Rod was not finished and he bucked up and threw Brett off the bed and immediately went after Brett. The fighting then went all around the room, knocking the chair over, smashing into the desk, slamming into the door, and finally winding up on the floor. But Brett finally wound up with a sleeper hold on Rod and after a titanic struggle rendered Rod unconscious.
Brett then carried Rod back to the bed and threw him face down and mounted his back again. This time he rammed four fingers into Rod’s asshole and worked it in and out like a madman until Rod’s asshole had been widened sufficiently for Brett to sink his whole fist in midway to his elbow. He then brutalized the asshole as he fist fucked it. The brutal action brought Rod back to consciousness at which time Brett growled at him FUCK MY STUD WILL YOU, W ELL YOU WONT EVER AGAIN. He then clamped Rod into a full nelson and rammed his mammoth cock into Rod’s devastated asshole. He fucked Rod’s ass like a rutting bull until he exploded his alpha male thick, white cum deep into Rod’s ass. Rod’s cock had meanwhile gone into overdrive at the fucking he was getting so when Brett finally shot his final load into Rod’s ass and brutally pressed down on Rod’s neck snapping it, Rod’s cock exploded at the same moment. Brett then got back into his shorts and T-shirt and left the dead Rod sprawled on the bed, his body ass covered with Brett’s male seed.
Brett immediately went back to his room and found Chad naked on the bed reading a book. When Chad asked Brett where he had been, knowing full well where Brett had gone, Brett played it cool because he wanted Chad to sweat it out. “I visited the guy that raped you” he told Chad. When Brett did not elaborate any further Chad asked what had happened. “I killed him” Brett calmly said. At that Chad dropped the book and shrank back on the bed. Brett then stripped off his shorts and muscle T-shirt and climbed onto the bed with Chad. “Now that you don’t have to fear your rapist anymore you should thank me and let me fuck that young, fuckable ass of yours now” Before Chad could answer Brett moved over on top of him and wrapped his tree trunk thighs around Chad’s midsection.
At first this did not alarm Chad as Brett and he had wrestled many times before getting down to fucking. But when Brett squeezed harder than usual Chad realized that something was different and squirmed a bit rather than just enjoying the feel of Brett’s great thighs around him. “How did Rod trick you into the rape” Brett said as he squeezed harder on the scissor. A look of concern crossed Chad’s face as he tried to think of a reply that would satisfy Brett. “He caught me completely by surprise. I had my back turned to him and he came up behind me and pushed me to the bed and ripped my briefs off”. “What the hell were you doing in briefs while waiting for him to tutor you. Do you always meet tutors in briefs?” Chad squirmed even more now and Brett’s thighs dug deeper into his abdominals. Chad’s mind was working furiously to answer that and he looked into Brett’s eyes and saw something that he had never seen before – eyes that seemed to pierce right into him. A shiver of fear shot through Chad as he looked into those eyes.
Brett finally released the scissor and said “And when Rod came up behind you and stripped you of your briefs what did he do then”. Chad thought quickly and replied “he got me in a full nelson so I could not move”. Brett then flipped Chad over and climbed on his back and said in a soft, very menacing voice “you mean he clamped you in a full nelson like this” as his bulging arms slipped under Chad’s armpits and circled around to close behind Chad’s head. Chad did not respond so Brett pressed harder on the nelson and said in an even more sinister voice “and then what did he do”. Chad still did not reply so Brett pressed harder on the nelson until Chad moaned out “he then probed my ass until he finally got it into it and then started to rape me”. Once again Brett responded to that answer with “do you mean like this” as he rammed him now fully engorged cock into Chad’s asshole in one brutal thrust.
“YOU CHEATED ON ME YOU LITTLE FUCKING BASTARD. ROD TOLD ME ALL ABOUT YOU ASKING HIM TO FUCK YOU AND YOU’VE BEEN DOING FOR SOME TIME” Chad struggled in the nelson and felt Brett’s mammoth cock plunge all the way into his ass and his whole body shuddered in pain and fear. “BUT YOU’RE NOT GOING TO FUCK HIM ANY MORE BECAUSE HE IS DEAD AND SO WILL YOU BE IN JUST A FEW MINUTES”. “Please don’t Brett, I’ll never cheat again” moaned Chad. “YOU’RE FUCKING RIGHT YOU WON’T YOU FUCKING TWINK WIMP. With that Brett rolled over carrying Chad with him still locked in the nelson and his ass fully embedded with Brett’s rampant cock.
As the two bodies rolled over it brought Chad’s body on top and exposed his cock which was now stiff as a flagpole and throbbing out of fear and out of that phenomenon known to occur when certain death is imminent. Brett’s thighs closed around Chad’s midsection as he pressed Chad’s head closer and closer to Chad’s pectorals. “SAY YOUR PRAYERS YOU FUCKING CHEATER AS YOU GO TO JOIN YOUR LOVER” said Brett into Chad’s ear. With that Brett squeezed with all his might on his scissor almost cutting Chad’s young body in half and at the same time bulged his biceps to the max and with one final brutal thrust bent Chad’s head fully to Chad’s chest. There was a loud “crack” and Chad’s head went limp in Brett’s bulging muscles. At that same moment Chad’s cock spurted shot after shot of cum all over his abdominals and Brett’s thighs and Brett unloaded his own alpha male cum to overflowing into Chad’s ass. Thus were the cheater and his lover taken care of. Brett didn’t care now as he easily would find another young, nubile ass to fuck when he wanted it.
The End
KILLING A CHEATER
Brett came back to the room after classes, showered, dressed in shorts and a tight muscle T-shirt, and looked into the mirror before going out again. What he saw looking back at him in the mirror was a blond muscular hunk, buzzed hair, blue eyes, pronounced biceps, well rounded pectorals bursting from the T-shirt, thick muscular thighs and good looking legs, With that image carried with him he left the room and headed for his boy friend’s room in another dorm.
Chad had been Brett’s boy friend for 3 years. He was a year behind Brett in college and at their first coming together he had been Brett’s boy toy. But as the years went by Chad grew into a young muscular Adonis with a face that drove other studs wild. He had blond hair, eyes that beckoned, smooth skin, well developed shoulders and biceps, a slim muscular waist, a fuckable ass, and GQ model thighs and legs. His dorm room was on the top floor and next to an unoccupied room which gave him some privacy.
When Brett arrived at Chad’s room he found Chad looking very depressed. This bothered Brett because he had come over relieve his swollen sacs with Chad’s delicious ass. Finding Chad moody took the edge off of Brett’s lust and he immediately wanted to know what was bothering Chad. At first Chad just shrugged it off but Brett wouldn’t let it go at that and demanded to know more. Having Chad like that ruined Brett’s desire to feel all of Chad’s gorgeous body and then fuck him full of cum. When Chad still would not say anything Brett got angry and pinned him to the bed saying “tell me what’s bothering you or you won’t have my big fat cock for your enjoyment”.
Brett still got no answer from Chad so he figured maybe Chad was playing coy or was teasing him to get a more brutal fucking that he loved. But Brett was not waiting for any more games as he wanted Chad’s sweet ass right then. So he roughly flipped Chad over onto his stomach and spread Chad’s legs apart as he ripped his shorts off. But when he tried to lie on Chad’s back Chad squirmed away and turned over. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON CHAD? Brett growled. Finally Chad spoke and said “my ass is too brutalized for you to take me now”. This hit Brett smack in the face and with mixed anger and puzzlement he said, not kindly, AND WHY THE FUCK IS THAT? HOW THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN?” For a moment Chad did not respond but then said in almost a whisper “I was raped”.
Bret remained stunned by what Chad said. He then exploded “WHEN – WHAT’S THE COCKSUCKERS NAME – TELL ME!!!!. Chad shrank back on the bed and saw the look in Brett’s eyes so he knew he couldn’t escape from telling Brett what he wanted to know. “The guy’s name is Rod and he lives alone off campus at 11 River Street. I went there because he said he could help me in my Chemistry work but he tricked me and I was not strong enough to fight him off. That’s when he raped me”. When Chad stopped he cringed even more when he saw the blazing look in Brett’s eyes.
Brett grabbed his shorts and almost tore them so rapidly did he got them on. Then without a word to Chad he left the room slamming the door behind him. Chad had no illusions about where Brett was going and for a minute he contemplated phoning Rod to warn him of Brett’s intentions. But he finally decided against it because he was afraid of what Brett would do to him if he found out that he had alerted Rod to his impending danger.
Brett meanwhile wasted no time in charging over to 11 River Street. When he arrived there he knocked on the door and was greeted by a good looking muscular stud attired only in his jockey briefs. When Rod asked Brett what he wanted Brett told him that he desperately needed tutoring. When Rod stated that he could not take him at that moment but if he would come back later he would be glad to help him. Brett answered that by saying that he needed the help right now because he was having a test later in the day and coming back later would not help him. As this conversation was in progress Brett sized up his intended victim and saw that Rod had really good muscles, blond crew cut hair, blue eyes, and very strong thighs. All of this would help him decide how to dismantle this fucking rapist.
After a few minutes Rod relented and led Brett into his apartment which consisted of a desk, a chair, a kitchenette, and a large bed. There were no rugs on the floor leaving a big open space in the middle of the room. Brett followed Rod into the room until Rod was just about in the middle, all the while stripping his T-shirt off and cut-off shorts. When Rod was about to turn around Brett came up behind him and wrapped his muscular arms around Rod’s neck. The attack was so sudden and unsuspected that Rod did not respond right away which allowed Brett’s hold to really squeeze tight before Rod reacted. When Rod did respond it was with swiftness as he reached back and grabbed Brett’s head and monkey flipped him over onto the bed. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT” Rod said as he advanced to the bed. “THAT WAS ABOUT A FUCKING RAPIST THAT’S WHAT” said Brett as he launched himself off the bed and into a bicep bulging front bear hug around Rod’s muscular chest.
Rod instantly placed his hands against Brett’s chin and forced Brett’s head back. It then became a test of strength to see if Rod’s back would give or Brett’s neck. In the end Brett won because he had the hug well placed and his muscular arms crushed Rod to him and nearly snapped his spine. I’M GOING TO BREAK YOUR BACK YOU FUCKING RAPIST” snarled Brett as he continued to bend Rod’s back. “What…eeehh…are you talking…aaagggrrr…about” “RAPING CHAD IS WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT”. “You’re out…aaaaaggg…of you…..mind…aagggrrr….I never…aaagggrr…raped him…he wanted…aaaggg…to have me fuck him…aaaggrr,….”
This new news sent Brett into a towering rage. Not only had Rod fucked him with Chad’s desire but he had fucked his boy toy. Brett threw Rod onto the bed face forward and mounted his back. His mammoth cock was fully engorged and he rammed it hard at Rod’s asshole. When it did not penetrate he rammed it even harder until the bulbous
head slipped in. But Rod was not finished and he bucked up and threw Brett off the bed and immediately went after Brett. The fighting then went all around the room, knocking the chair over, smashing into the desk, slamming into the door, and finally winding up on the floor. But Brett finally wound up with a sleeper hold on Rod and after a titanic struggle rendered Rod unconscious.
Brett then carried Rod back to the bed and threw him face down and mounted his back again. This time he rammed four fingers into Rod’s asshole and worked it in and out like a madman until Rod’s asshole had been widened sufficiently for Brett to sink his whole fist in midway to his elbow. He then brutalized the asshole as he fist fucked it. The brutal action brought Rod back to consciousness at which time Brett growled at him FUCK MY STUD WILL YOU, W ELL YOU WONT EVER AGAIN. He then clamped Rod into a full nelson and rammed his mammoth cock into Rod’s devastated asshole. He fucked Rod’s ass like a rutting bull until he exploded his alpha male thick, white cum deep into Rod’s ass. Rod’s cock had meanwhile gone into overdrive at the fucking he was getting so when Brett finally shot his final load into Rod’s ass and brutally pressed down on Rod’s neck snapping it, Rod’s cock exploded at the same moment. Brett then got back into his shorts and T-shirt and left the dead Rod sprawled on the bed, his body ass covered with Brett’s male seed.
Brett immediately went back to his room and found Chad naked on the bed reading a book. When Chad asked Brett where he had been, knowing full well where Brett had gone, Brett played it cool because he wanted Chad to sweat it out. “I visited the guy that raped you” he told Chad. When Brett did not elaborate any further Chad asked what had happened. “I killed him” Brett calmly said. At that Chad dropped the book and shrank back on the bed. Brett then stripped off his shorts and muscle T-shirt and climbed onto the bed with Chad. “Now that you don’t have to fear your rapist anymore you should thank me and let me fuck that young, fuckable ass of yours now” Before Chad could answer Brett moved over on top of him and wrapped his tree trunk thighs around Chad’s midsection.
At first this did not alarm Chad as Brett and he had wrestled many times before getting down to fucking. But when Brett squeezed harder than usual Chad realized that something was different and squirmed a bit rather than just enjoying the feel of Brett’s great thighs around him. “How did Rod trick you into the rape” Brett said as he squeezed harder on the scissor. A look of concern crossed Chad’s face as he tried to think of a reply that would satisfy Brett. “He caught me completely by surprise. I had my back turned to him and he came up behind me and pushed me to the bed and ripped my briefs off”. “What the hell were you doing in briefs while waiting for him to tutor you. Do you always meet tutors in briefs?” Chad squirmed even more now and Brett’s thighs dug deeper into his abdominals. Chad’s mind was working furiously to answer that and he looked into Brett’s eyes and saw something that he had never seen before – eyes that seemed to pierce right into him. A shiver of fear shot through Chad as he looked into those eyes.
Brett finally released the scissor and said “And when Rod came up behind you and stripped you of your briefs what did he do then”. Chad thought quickly and replied “he got me in a full nelson so I could not move”. Brett then flipped Chad over and climbed on his back and said in a soft, very menacing voice “you mean he clamped you in a full nelson like this” as his bulging arms slipped under Chad’s armpits and circled around to close behind Chad’s head. Chad did not respond so Brett pressed harder on the nelson and said in an even more sinister voice “and then what did he do”. Chad still did not reply so Brett pressed harder on the nelson until Chad moaned out “he then probed my ass until he finally got it into it and then started to rape me”. Once again Brett responded to that answer with “do you mean like this” as he rammed him now fully engorged cock into Chad’s asshole in one brutal thrust.
“YOU CHEATED ON ME YOU LITTLE FUCKING BASTARD. ROD TOLD ME ALL ABOUT YOU ASKING HIM TO FUCK YOU AND YOU’VE BEEN DOING FOR SOME TIME” Chad struggled in the nelson and felt Brett’s mammoth cock plunge all the way into his ass and his whole body shuddered in pain and fear. “BUT YOU’RE NOT GOING TO FUCK HIM ANY MORE BECAUSE HE IS DEAD AND SO WILL YOU BE IN JUST A FEW MINUTES”. “Please don’t Brett, I’ll never cheat again” moaned Chad. “YOU’RE FUCKING RIGHT YOU WON’T YOU FUCKING TWINK WIMP. With that Brett rolled over carrying Chad with him still locked in the nelson and his ass fully embedded with Brett’s rampant cock.
As the two bodies rolled over it brought Chad’s body on top and exposed his cock which was now stiff as a flagpole and throbbing out of fear and out of that phenomenon known to occur when certain death is imminent. Brett’s thighs closed around Chad’s midsection as he pressed Chad’s head closer and closer to Chad’s pectorals. “SAY YOUR PRAYERS YOU FUCKING CHEATER AS YOU GO TO JOIN YOUR LOVER” said Brett into Chad’s ear. With that Brett squeezed with all his might on his scissor almost cutting Chad’s young body in half and at the same time bulged his biceps to the max and with one final brutal thrust bent Chad’s head fully to Chad’s chest. There was a loud “crack” and Chad’s head went limp in Brett’s bulging muscles. At that same moment Chad’s cock spurted shot after shot of cum all over his abdominals and Brett’s thighs and Brett unloaded his own alpha male cum to overflowing into Chad’s ass. Thus were the cheater and his lover taken care of. Brett didn’t care now as he easily would find another young, nubile ass to fuck when he wanted it.
The End
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