Page 63 - Leather Blues
P. 63

Leather Blues                                        51

               Salt stung the ring scratch. Blood from the tiny line mixed
               with the sweat and ran into the washboard crevices of his
               belly.
                  Chuck pulled the skin of Den’s cock up so far it formed
               new lips around the big uncircumcised head. Den made no
               sound, but his face contorted. Chuck’s own rod stretched
               farther in his jeans. He winced as his doubling meat pushed
               against his skintight denim seeking room to grow larger.
               With his right hand he mauled Den’s cock. With his left he
               counter-massaged Den’s balls. He pulled cock one way, balls
               the other.
                  Den’s head rolled left and right. Chuck, like Sam, was a
               river he could float away on. He was back in the field with
               Sam, his legs again up over his head, hurting under the
               cock-ramming stabs of the cursing and sweaty leatherman.
               Den had found good sex since; but this time, this way, with
               Chuck was the best since Sam. He knew he’d have to fake
               any sex short of leather sex after this.
                  Chuck halted his two-handed twisting. Den felt a circle
               of rawhide draw tight around the base of his balls. “No,” he
               said. “Take it,” Chuck ordered. He drew the long piece of
               rawhide under, between, and then tight against the base of
               Den’s cock. His balls were separated from each other and the
               pair of separated balls from his cock. The leather was castrat-
              ing him. The pressure of the binding tightened the skin so
              that the veins in the nuts pushing apart purpled like tiny
              starburst explosions on the surface of Den’s taut scrotum.
              He moaned. Chuck wrapped the rawhide tighter around the
              base of Den’s cock. He floated deeper down the river. His
              already immense organ stretched its juicy tip still farther up.
              Chuck unbuttoned his own fly. His cock was too big and
              hard to manipulate out the opening. He stood on the bunk.
              Den opened his eyes to see the commanding man standing
              over him. Chuck’s boots pressed tight against Den’s hips. He
              unbuckled his belt. Den saw his hand slip menacingly into

                   ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
               HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK
   58   59   60   61   62   63   64   65   66   67   68