Page 422 - Some Dance to Remember

392 Jack Fritscher

“Don’t tempt me!”
“But we made...love!”
Logan tore at Ryan’s shirt, ripping it away from his chest. He pulled
Ryan around the floor yanking off Ryan’s jeans. He kicked him repeatedly
on his naked butt.
“You fucking asshole cunt!” He threw Ryan on his back across the
leather-covered weight bench over which Thom had committed suicide.
He handcuffed Ryan’s wrists together below the bench. “I’m gonna show
you lu-u-v!”
Logan popped open the fly of his wet jeans. His huge cock stood at
full attention. He spread Ryan’s legs. He drove his dry cock hard into
Ryan’s ass. Ryan screamed. It was not pleasure. It was pain. It was not sex.
It was violence. Logan slapped him hard in the face, pushed his knees
back beside his ears, grabbed his shoulders with both his big hands, and
threw the full weight of his muscular body into Ryan. “Take it, you bitch!”
He threw a vicious fuck. “That’s what you deserve! That’s what you need!
That’s what you get!” Deeper and deeper he plowed into Ryan’s ass.
“Get out!” Ryan screamed. “Get out! I’m going to kill you!”
Logan reared back and slapped Ryan’s face, riding him like a horse
to full lather. “I’m gonna kill you!” Logan said. “I’m gonna fuck you to
DEATH!”
He pulled his cock from Ryan’s ass. He deftly unlocked the handcuffs.
He picked Ryan up bodily, turned him over like a wrestler in a ring, and
slammed him belly-down across the bench, throwing the full fury of his
hate into him, driving his cock home to the hilt. Cuming, he slapped the
flat palms of both hands hard on Ryan’s back, driving the air from Ryan’s
lungs. As rough as he entered, he pulled himself from Ryan’s bloody ass.
Ryan was nearly unconscious.
Logan pulled him up from the bench and threw him on his back on
the floor. Again he straddled Ryan’s chest. He thrust his still-hard cock
in Ryan’s face. He slapped him hard. Once. Then twice. “Clean it up,” he
said. He shoved the slab of his dirty meat into Ryan’s mouth. “Clean it
up, you silly pencil-neck geek bitch!”
But Ryan could not. He choked on the slimy head rammed deep
down his throat. He vomited the supper he had eaten with Kick.
Logan pulled back in disgust. “No wonder he never had sex with you.
You filthy cunt!” Logan stood up over Ryan’s face and chest. “You dirty
bitch!” He wrapped the long rod of his cock in both his hands. Its big
head bulged out angry and purple. “Piss on you,” he said. His long stream
sprayed across Ryan’s body.

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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