Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

When I came to again, it wasn't to a cheery good morning, or sunlight streaming through the windows as the butler put my morning coffee tray down and pulled the velvet draperies away from the French widows. It was with the pain of a monster cock forcing its way into my channel. And believe me, I knew the difference between the two sensations.

I was in pitch darkness and somehow had been bent belly over a padded saw horse type of contraption, with my wrists bound to my ankles as well as to the legs of the contraption, which had me spread-eagled. The heavy weight of a man was folded over me from behind. I felt hard, full-muscled chest muscles, expanding and contracting with heavy breathing on my shoulder blades, and heavy fingers with jagged nails were digging into my butt cheeks and pulling them apart, as, with much effort—surprising to me as often as I'd been fucked—my assailant was forcing a telephone pole of a cock inside me.

I felt the strain of my balls being distended toward the floor with heavy weights—at least that's what I guessed they were—not having ever had that done to me before. But it was so arousing and drove me to such distraction, that I was game for the experience.

I also was game for the rapid, deep, and full-stretched fucking this guy—whoever he was—was giving me. He no doubt would not have been as interested in the fuck if I let him know that I was having a ball—that this was the way I liked it and that he was giving it to me beyond my wildest dreams.

Over I don't know how long a period in total darkness, accentuated only by his groans and heavy breathing, and my moans and whimpers, he fucked me in that position three times, each time for what seemed to be forever, and with very little time for his recovery between fucks. I came more often than he did—until I feared that my aching balls would just pop off my body and fall to the floor.

Fat hands went around my neck and I could tell his fingers were searching for just the right position . . . and then I blacked out again.

When I came to, it was still pitch-black dark, but I was on my back on some sort of hard mattress. My arms were extended outward and above my torso and were bound to something at the wrists. My legs were extended up and spread-eagled and bound as well. The Fucking Monster—which is what I had come to name him—was straddling my torso with his knees, facing me. He had the fingers of both hands buried in the hair at the back of my head, and he was pulling my head up, relentlessly, and my mouth onto his cock.

I gagged at the width and length of him, but I gave him what he wanted as I deep throated him, and I sucked him to ejaculation.

Then at least three more times, with little relief between, he was standing between my legs and brutally ramming my ass with his cock in hard, deep fucks that took my breath away.

He released my arms and legs after the third fuck and picked me up bodily. I took what opportunity I had to feel his musculature, and I was sure then that he had been the divinely constructed heavyweight I'd seen eyeing the audience at the gym—and that, from the talkative victim's description, he was the mass molester we were after.

At that moment, the case was solved as far as I could tell of what had happened to the Reardon and Connaut young men and also why the Fucking Monster was doing this. They said nothing, because they couldn't admit that they had reveled in the fucking they got. And the Fucking Monster did it this way because he was so butt ugly in the face, he thought he had to do it in the dark and didn't think any man would take him willingly.

This was nonsense, of course. With the cock he had on him, serious bottoms would stand in line to be fucked—and if darkness was required, they wouldn't see that as a problem. But rationality obviously didn't trump delusion in this case.

Where he carried me next was into a smaller, still-dark room, where he locked me in. It had a bed and a shower and a toilet. I have no idea how long he let me rest. But in time I heard the turn of a key in the lock and the squeal of a door on its hinges, and he was reaching down for me.

That's when I gave him the surprise of his life. As he leaned over me, I raised one arm and wrapped it around his neck and brought his lips down to mine and gave him a deep kiss. My other hand went to his monster cock, which was already erect, and I moved that between my thighs and to my hole. With a thrust of my hips, I impaled my channel on his cock and wrapped my legs around his waist.

I started the rhythm of the fuck myself, and I felt him trembling on top of me and his chest heaving as if he was about to cry.

I disengaged our lip lock and whispered to him. "If you want to do it in the dark, that's fine. If you want to bind me, that's fine too. If you want to get rough, I'd like that. But I want you to know that I love your fucking and can't get enough of you."

We fucked for hours then, in various bound positions, and a couple of times with my hands free so that I could explore the deep curves of his body with my hands as his cock continued its work inside my ass or mouth, and he gasped and moaned as I'd done for him the day—for surely a day had passed—before.

I spent several hours alone, as before, in the smaller room. And then we fucked again. His fucks were slower now and not so frequent, and we spent more time massaging each other with our hands. I could tell, however, that as new as the experience of a more-than-willing partner this was, his libido—his need to body snatch to fuck—was lessening.

After I was placed in the small room a third time, he didn't come to me again. I tried the door and it opened. The room beyond was empty too, I found out as I found a light switch and brought light into the room—into an empty room. Whatever devices he'd used to restrain and position me in before were gone.

I went over to a window and pulled the heavy drapes aside, not only letting in more sunshine, but also seeing that I was in the building that was immediately adjacent to the gym building I'd gone to for the regional bodybuilding competition. The alley from which I had been snatched was right below me.

I found my clothes neatly folded and stacked by the outer door, and I just put them on and hobbled down to my car—finding three parking violation tickets on the windshield.

I drove home and called no one. But I did look up where and when the next regionals were to be held.