He picked up the backpack and wrestled his way into the straps, took one last look around the neat and tidy flat, then left, locking the door behind him. He took a few strides down the corridor, then knocked on the door next to his.
He knew Mrs Fellowes would check through the spyhole, so he waited, then heard the locks disengage. “Hello Liam,” she said. “What up?”
He nodded back towards his flat. “I’m off for a while, Mrs Fellowes. Could you keep an eye out on the place please?”
“Of course, Liam. Going anywhere exciting?”
Liam smiled. “Not sure about exciting. Thanks again, Mrs Fellowes.” He turned and left, going down the stairs rather than take the rickety lift.
He stopped off at the barbers for a last minute trim of his ginger hair. He then took the bus to the station, bought a one-way ticket, and was soon heading out of town. A few hours later, he left the fast train and got on a smaller, slower one for a few stops, then took a taxi, and the last of his cash, to a small village.
He walked the last two miles or so, down footpaths, across a field or two, till he came to the tall wall, and the door in the wall, and the door that lead to the place where he’d spent three weeks late last summer researching biodiversity. “Private Property” the sign said. “Trespassers will be prosecuted,” said another. “Site is under camera surveillance at all times” and the sign gave the name and phone number of a company. He laughed at that one, knowing full well it was bollocks. He looked down to see a large gas cannister; he test-picked it up, and it was heavy.
He took a deep breath, hand reaching out for the combo lock on the door. He’d come this far, he’d made this decision, he’d no cash, he’d…
Liam punched in the 10 digit code he’d remembered from seven months back, hoping it had not been changed. It hadn’t. He turned the latch, and the door swing open. He picked up the gas cannister, walked through the door, and shut it behind him. Decision made.
He shrugged off the backpack and dumped the contents onto a large stump just inside the wall. Then, he took his trainers off, trousers, jacket, shirt, socks, undies till he was stood there naked; chubby, early 20s, fresh-faced, trembling, though not from any cold or chill – he didn’t feel the cold – this was anticipation. He put his hands behind his head, closed his eyes, and let his bladder empty, the only sounds that of piss hitting leaf mould.
He looked at the stump and the things on top. He reached out, picked up the leather wrist guards and strapped them on, then the bicep bands. He took two of the rugby socks and put them on; there were seven in total, none of them matching any of the others, put two in a pocket of the rugby shorts. He smiled to himself, knowing where the matches to the socks were… He laced himself into the workboots that came near up as tall as the socks on his calves. He flexed his feet in the boots, squatted down, jumped up, satisfied. He took the suspension harness and got himself into that, secured around the tops of his thighs, straps round his bare buttocks, secured across the chest. He snapped the leather cockring into place; it felt good, his cock starting to swell. He put the faded blue rugger shorts on; they seemed a little more snug round the waist today. He took the dog collar, and strapped that round his neck. The clothes and shoes he’d arrived in he stuffed into the rucksack, his phone right at the bottom, and put the remaining three socks right on top. He looked at the last item left on the stump, and put that into the other pocket in the disreputable shorts. He hefted the rucksack over one shoulder, picked up the gas bottle, and set off into the woods.
About twenty minutes later, the barely identifiable path he was following took a right hand bend and there it was; a wooden cabin on stumpy brick pillars, door closed, windows ajar, faint wisp of smoke from the chimney. He set the gas bottle next to the one just beside the steps up to the door, dropped the backpack next to it, and rapped on the door.
After the sound of a chair being knocked over, the door opened in a leisurely manner. “So. You came back then.”
Liam looked up into the white-blue eyes of the man in front of him. Grubby grey t-shirt, trousers that were muddy and may have once been hiviz orange, knee high laced boots, grubby face, stubbled, cropped dirty blond hair. Late 20s but hard to tell; could be five years younger or ten years older.
“I came back.”
The man nodded. “And all that that means…”
Liam nodded back. “And all that that means.”
The man put out his hand, and looked meaningfully at it. Liam pulled the last item from out his pocket, and put the chain and clip into the man’s hand. The man stroked Liam’s cheek, almost tenderly, which Liam leant into slightly. The man opened the clip, reached forward to clip it onto the collar and paused…
“And all that this means. You are sure?”
Liam looked deep into the white-blue eyes. “This is what I want, Wil. Right now. I am sure.”
The chain clipped onto the collar. Wil leaned forward, gathered Liam into a bearhug and buried his face in Liam’s neck, stubble grinding into the bare flesh, then pulled back and planted a deep kiss on Liam’s mouth, delving deep and rough. Liam’s arms wrapped round the man, holding him tight.
After a few minutes, the man broke the embrace, and gave Liam a studied look. “You’re 90% of the way here lad. Let’s get you the rest of the way.” And with that, he got an arm round Liam’s neck and marched him off into the woods.
A few minutes later they arrived at a marshy part of the wood; the Spring weather had not completely dried up this part, and Wil unceremoniously tripped Liam up and threw him headfirst into the bog. Liam landed with a big squelch on his side, mud splattering up around and over him and the man. The man lifted Liam a way off the ground by the suspension harness then threw him on his back into the mud, then fell legs either side of him, and grabbed handfuls of mud, rubbing them on his chest and face and head and thighs.
“Much fuckin’ better,” he growled, then slipped to one side to lean over Liam and get another rough kiss in. Liam reached up with a hand full of mud and pulled Wil’s head hard onto him, the mud oozing out between his fingers and down the man’s back. The man slid a muddy hand up Liam’s shorts, found the cock there now hard, and worked mud round the cock and full balls.
Wil straddled Liam’s chest, pushing his chubby near naked body even further into the mud. Wil reached down for his fly, opened it and lobbed his cock out. “Seven months wait for this,” and he pushed the thick cock into Liam’s mouth, balls deep enough to force Liam’s head back into more mud. It didn’t take long for him to get to cumming, and he emptied his balls down Liam’s throat, which Liam duly swallowed.
He stood up, and without any warning spun Liam over onto his front – in the mud – and yanked the rugger shorts down, exposing his arse. He fell on top of Liam, grabbing his arms and forcing them out in front of the lad, holding them there with one rough beefy hand while the other found Liam’s arsehole and began working it, one finger, two fingers, three. Wil could feel the hole relaxing, and soon as he thought it relaxed enough, he shifted his hips and lined his cock up with Liam’s hole.
“Seven months,” was all Wil said, as his cock pushed smoothly and urgently into Liam. He got it balls deep and held it. “Remember this?”
Liam turned his face clear of the mud. “Fuck yes. Why I’m fuckin’ back ya bastard…”
Wil silenced him with a forceful shove of his cock, drew back, forced the cock up once more, drew back, started fucking Liam with a piston like strength and rhythm. Each in-thrust pushed Liam forward in the muck, caking his front with even more mud, till Wil gave one, last, huge thrust, pumping more cum deep into Liam’s guts. He collapsed on top of Liam, who sighed under the weight, inwardly smiling, outwardly panting.
Wil pulled out of Liam, turned the lad over so he was on his back again. “Look the fuck at state of you,” he said. “Fuckin’ covered in mud. Not the pampered pretty college boy anymore are ya?”
“Not anymore,” Liam said quietly. He got hold of the end of the chain, handed it to Wil. “Not’ny more.”
Wil just put a boot on his chest, tugging the chain, pushing down with the boot. He looked at Liam’s shorts, cocked his head. “Sommat there needs attention,” he smiled. “Did you bring extras?”
Liam nodded. “Left hand pocket.”
Wil put a hand into the pocket, pulled out the two rugby socks Liam had brought with him. He tied a knot in the middle of one, then roughly put that in Liam’s mouth, and tied the sock round his head as a gag. The other one he tied round Liam’s eyes, blindfolding him. He took the chain, unclipped it from the collar, and looped it through the buckles on each wristguard, then pulled that above Liam’s head and stuck the end under a heavy stone lying nearby. He tugged Liam’s shorts down, letting his cock spring up hard, rigid and dripping precum.
Wil knelt down, knee either side of Liam’s body, hands either side of his head. “Your turn,” was all he said. He bent down and got his grimy face in Liam’s armpit, sniffed, tasted, licked. “City boy clean,” he said. “Soon have that up to my standards…” He dove back in, swapping between each pit as Liam groaned through the gag, cock bobbing in the air, precum pooling on his muddy belly.
He went in for a kiss, rough, urgent. He undid his belt, slid the grubby once-orange trousers down till his naked arse hovered above Liam’s cock. He slid back and down, one hand on Liam’s neck, one hand feeling for Liam’s cock, guiding it towards his own arse. He made contact, but keep going, sliding Liam’s rock hard cock further and further up himself, till there was no more cock to use up. Wil held it there, feeling it throb, hearing Liam moan and sigh, shudder and tremble.
Then, Wil started to fuck himself with Liam. Up on his knees, cock slid out, down again, cock slammed in, in and out, out and in, faster, faster, more urgent, more desperate. Liam’s moans through the gag became louder, near screams till he pushed up forcefully and his swollen balls emptied, filling Wil.
Wil let the pumping stop, then flattened himself on Liam, taking the gag out, and replacing it with his mouth. They lay like that for minutes. “Seven months…” Liam said.
A soft rain started to fall. Liam’s cock softened and fell out of Wil. Wil stood up, reattached the chain to the collar, took the blindfold off and tugged Liam to his feet. Liam pulled his shorts up, then put his hands behind his back, looking Wil straight in the eyes, the rain starting to wash the mud off his naked torso and face, matting his hair.
“Seven months,” Liam repeated. “Every night I’ve wanted your cock in me. Every night I’ve wanted to fuck you, fuck with you, be fucked by you. Wear these boots, these shorts with you. These cuffs, the bands, the collar…”
“And the leash,” Wil finished. He looked around. “Plenty of work for me here, kept me mind off ya. Daytimes that was. Night times you was there…” he tapped the side of his head, “… and here …” he cupped his balls. “But you wasn’t sure seven months back, so’s I let you decide.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t going nowhere but here. Here’s me place…” He tugged on the chain, drew Liam close. “Yer hands are soft, we’ll get ‘em hard. Yer skin’s pale, we’ll get it tanned. You smell of the city, we’ll get you smelling of the country. Right now, you are covered in mud, head to boot, sweaty as fuck, and I can’t tell you how much of a fuckin’ delight you look to me but I want you again…”
“I’m here ain’t I?”
Wil’s response was to stuff the gag back into Liam’s mouth, and tug him to the nearest tree. The chain came off, and Liam’s arms were taken either side of the tree before the chain was used to effectively tie him to it. Wil stood behind, kicked Liam’s booted feet apart a bit, then came in for a bearhug from behind, feeling Liam’s sweaty body, breathing in the musky scent that was starting to overcome the clinical city, rubbing the mud and grime and rain over the layer of sweat on his body, up the shorts, feeling his arse, feeling his still full balls, grasping the swollen cock straining in the rugger shorts. He was pressing his groin into Liam’s arse, rubbing cock into crack through two layers of grimy cloth.
He undid his fly, got his cock out and began rubbing it on Liam’s shorts, leaving a trail of slimy precum. Liam was pressing back, letting Wil get an arm round his chest, holding them tight together. Will got the shorts down just enough to get a finger up Liam, feel his own cum from before oozing out and lubing up the lad’s hole, knew that this was the time for his cock to fuck the lad again. It went up Liam easy, easy enough that Liam was slammed into the tree by the force of Wil’s push, knocking the wind out of him. Liam pushed back again, wanting more of Wil’s cock in him; that was all he wanted, Wil’s cock, nothing but Wil’s cock, anywhere, any place, any hole, anyhow. Wil’s cock.
Wil had an arm round Liam’s chest, and now that he was cock deep in the lad, his other hand went into the shorts from the front, found the rock solid cock there, and started to wank it in rhythm with the fucking the lad was getting. In and down. Out and up. Repeat, repeat… He let his head fall onto Liam’s bare shoulder, sweat gliding the motion of his stubble over the lad’s flesh, his lips tasting the sweat and mud and rain and making him even hornier.
The moment arrived. One last thrust from Wil’s cock and one last wank from Wil’s hand, and he came again a good load up Liam’s arse, and that set Liam’s cock pulsing with jets of cum into the shorts. Wil’s grey t-shirt was dark grey with rain, sweat, armpits, small of the back, chest where he’d been pressed into Liam. He disengaged from Liam, tucked himself away, and released the lad from the tree.
Wil cupped the lad’s face in one hand. “Well?”
“Staying,” Liam said. He looked away for a second. “Wish I’d never left.”
Wil turned towards the hut, tugging on the chain. “Soup.” He started off. “Then a proper fuck…” |
