The House on the Hill

By Marc of a Man
published May 31, 2018

Three Southern goood ole’ boys set out to crack the secret of the house on the hill - but get a lesson in facing their own prejudices instead.

First-time poster here. Feedback welcome!

The House on the Hill

Everyone knew about the house on the hill, even if most people never had been to the house on the hill.

Duane was sitting with his best buddies, Tom and Rob, blonde-haired twins, shooting the shit, drinking beer and smoking pot when the subject came up. “So why haven’t we been to the house,” said Tom, taking a hit off the bowl. “Ain’t that far from here. We should check it the fuck out.”

“Why do you want to go there?” asked Tom. “You think your gonna find pussy? That’s about the only thing on your mind.”

Rob laughed. “Naw, man, I think you’re the one that’s the pussy. I think you are scared of all the stories about that place. Besides, nothing else to do in the shithole.”

The “shithole” was DeBain, Texas, population 2,000, one of the many little towns that dotted the state in between some of the bigger metropolitan areas. The town had one gas station, which the brothers worked at as mechanics, a small food mart, a post office, one restaurant and a bank. The three friends all graduated about four years ago from high school, but didn’t have the motivation to go to Dallas or Fort Worth. Now all 21, the three still lived at home with parents, scrapping by on small jobs and spending their days getting drunk and/or high.

All three had been football stars back in their high school days, and still packed on the same muscle that made them a lead attraction for the ladies. (The weights in the brothers’ basement helped keep that up.) Rob had been the quarterback and was much bigger, and he could get more than the rest. Even four years later, all three of them still had the country boy good looks and tight bodies to get themselves laid on a regular basis.

“I’m just sayin’ man. I heard the stories about the place but it doesn’t seem like anyone in the shithole really knows what it’s about,” Rob said. “We should check it out. We can be big fuckin’ heroes with the girls if we say we went to the house.”

Duane took a slug of his Budweiser. “I think Billy Cooper told me a few years ago he and some buddies went to the place. They didn’t remember much about it.”

Rob scoffed. “That fuckin’ waste. He was probably too drugged up to remember getting out of the fuckin’ car.”

“Well, the stories about that place are weird. Supposed to be a place where they had slaves or Mexican drug lords hundred years ago,” Duane said.

Tom shook his head. “Oh, fuck, don’t get him started.” But it was too late. Rob wasted no time going off on one of his racist rants about how blacks and Mexicans were taking over the country and all the jobs. Duane tried to curb the conversation, but had to add his own two cents. “Dude, we are with you. We all wouldn’t touch one of them. Especially them spics. I can’t stand the way they smell.” He looked at his cell phone. “Shit, it is only six o’clock. Seems fuckin’ later than that.”

Rob finished off his beer and slammed the bottle on the table. “Well, then fuck, let’s go. Plenty of light out still. We could be up there and back by nine before it got dark. Ain’t that far.”

Tom grimaced. “Oh, man, I don’t know if I want —”

“You’re being a fuckin’ pussy!” Rob yelled, cutting him off.

Tom was a bit intimated by his much bigger twin, and hated to be called out by him on his masculinity. “I ain’t no fuckin’ queer boy pussy!,” he yelled. He slurped his beer and calmed down a bit. “OK, fine. I’m in. Let''s go.” They both looked at Duane. He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I am in. I think I need another bowl first.


The House on the Hill was located about 20 miles away in the town of Trenton. It was build sometime at the turn of the Twentieth Century, and was an impressive site for the time. The house was laid from solid granite blocks that spanned more than 25,000 sq. feet and set on a three-acre property. It contained 44 rooms, including a servant’s quarters. The man who owned it was only listed as Alexander B. on the papers, and soon after it was finished, it became the immediate subject of rumor in the nearby towns. Typical townfolk were never privileged to get an invite to the place; it was rumored it hosted some powerful men from around the state and country at the time. What exactly went on when they would meet was fodder for speculation, but the average people around the place never discovered the exact goings-on.

The house ran for more than 30 years until the Great Depression took its toll on the country. Since that time, it sat vacant, and relatively untouched, save for some work on the roads that lead up to the house. The local Historical Society even tried to get a historic designation for it at one point, but gave up when little history could be found on it. Trenton officials also tried for years to secure funding to raze the structure, but never could get much help from the state. Since it was up on a hill and hidden from most things in Trenton, the house eventually became out of sight and out of mind. People know it is there, but no one seems to care much about it anymore, except to bring up the rumors of its history.

Tom got the job as designated driver since he was the least fucked up of the three. His brother sat in the front seat, passing the bong to Duane, who sat in the back. They entered the limits of Trenton and hung a left on Route 8. After about two miles, they made another left on the road leading up the hill to the house. Five minutes later, they stopped the car right next to the large rod iron gate that led to the small road leading up to the front of the house. A “NO TRESPASSING” sign was posted on the gate.

The three got out of the car and stood in front of the gate. Several chains had been wrapped around the gate and secured with a padlock. Trees and overgrown brush obscured the view of the house. Duane went over and grabbed the padlock to see if it was secure. It was. “Fuck, how do we get in?” he asked.

The three looked down the gate that ran the length of the property. They could try to get over the gate, but barbed metal poles could be seen running along the top of it. They could impale themselves once they got to the top. Duane was about tell them to leave and try again another day when he heard a small, metal squealing sound coming from about 25 feet down the right side of the gate. The other two heard it as well. “What the fuck was that?” asked Tom.

They followed the sound and discovered a smaller gate – probably a servant entrance – obscured by some bushes growing around it. The gate was rod iron like the main gate, but not as thick. He went over to the gate and pushed it, expecting it to be chained up like the larger gate. It opened.

“Whoa! Fuck! This is open!” he exclaimed. “I’ll bet some dudes broke in here and were partying up here at one time. Let’s fuckin’ party!”

The three pushed their way through the gate and wound up on a small path. The path snaked up through the trees ahead. As they began walking up the path, Tom looked down at the ground and thought how strange it was that the path looked relatively clear, as if someone had been maintaining it. He was about to remark to his two stoned friends but thought better of it; he didn’t want his brother calling him a queer pussy again.

The path led them to the south end of the house. Even from this angle, the building was amazing. Its stone frame had been weathered by the sun, and moss had grown along sides of the structure. Even so, it was a handsome building, like something out of an old southern novel about the Civil War. Many of its windows were boarded up, but even they didn’t detract from the almost intimidating presence of the house.

A set of stairs led up from the yard to a stone porch in front. “Maybe we should just go up and knock?” asked Duane playfully. Rob smiled. “Yeah, maybe a fuckin’ ghost will answer.” Instead of trying the front door, they thought a back entrance might be easier to find. The three circled around the perimeter of the house until they were looking at a spacious yard with what looked like a rock garden. Tom couldn’t get over the size of the yard, and thought this place must have been shit back in its day.

There was another smaller porch jutting out from the back. The three stepped up on the porch and grimaced. The door had been sealed with a metal covering. Ain’t no way to get through that son of a bitch. Just then, Tom heard a small purring sound behind him. He spun around. Setting – almost posing – on one of the rails of the porch was a tan-and-white cat, casually licking its one paw. “Hey, look who came to visit,” he announced to the other two.

Duane and Rob turned around. “Whoa,” Duane remarked. “Pussy follows you everywhere.” He nudged Rob in the side. “Damn fuckin’ right,” Rob answered.

The cat jumped off of the rail and immediately came over to the three. She stopped when she reached Tom, and began to playfully move in and out of his legs. He smiled. “How did a stray get up this far? Stupid fuckin’ thing gonna starve up here.”

He reached down to grab the cat, but it immediately darted away. The cat ran off the porch and made a sharp left towards the back of the house. Tom gave pursuit. He could see the cat disappearing over the edge of the yard. When he came to the edge, he lost sight of it – but then realized where it had gone. There was another entrance way, hidden almost like the one at the front gate. The door also looked like it had been loosened off its hinges and small crack of light could be seen coming from its doorway. “Yo! Get the fuck over here!” he yelled to his friends. Seconds later, Duane and Rob joined him.

“When you wanna a way in, ask a cat. Sneaky little bastards,” Duane said. The three stared at the doorway for a few seconds in silence. This was their way into the house. THE house. The one the town talked about for years but never knew a fuckin’ thing about. Finally, Duane reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe. “Let’s toke up boys. We gonna be fuckin’ heroes and finally blow the lid off this place.”

The men quickly finished Duane’s bowl and felt the first effects of it as they pushed the door open a little wider. It led to a long hallway. The three slowly stepped in and Tom casually ran his fingers over the wallpaper. It had been faded through the years, but it was in better shape than one might expect for a hundred-year-old house. Duane’s premo weed also didn’t let any of them notice how much light appeared to be in the hall – even though the front of the house clearly showed most of the windows had been boarded up.

A few minutes later, they were standing in a large foyer, which appeared to be near the front of the house. Hallways stretched in four different directions from the foyer. Each hallway had about six or seven more doors, all of them appeared to be closed. The three stopped in the middle of the foyer. It was empty, save for one small dilapidated table against the wall. Rob let out a loud sigh. “What the fuck? This is it? This is this big fuckin’ secret everyone been talkin’ about? What a bunch of fuckin’ pus—” His sentence was cut off by the sound of claws tapping along the wooden floors. The three turned around to see the cat again.

“Where did this little bastard go so quick?,” he remarked. “The thing is starting to get on my nerves.” Tom wasn’t gonna let the thing make a fool out of him a second time. He ran toward the cat, but it easily evaded his grip. It jumped up and then off the table and darted down one of the halls. He was high enough that he wasn’t going to be that easily dissuaded. “Come here, cat!” he shouted, as he followed the thing down the hall.

Duane and Rob didn’t chase after him. “Let the asshole go,” said Rob. “A pussy chasin’ a pussy.”

********** Tom rounded the corner of the hallway and stopped in his tracks. He looked down the length, which must have run at least 50 feet. The cat was no where to be found. “What the fuck?” he said out loud. “Where did you go?” He suddenly noticed a light coming from under the door of one of the rooms at the end of the hall. “Ah, fuckin’ got ya,” he smirked.

Tom went down to the door and looked saw it was ajar. This fuckin’ cat can find open doors, he thought to himself. He slowly pushed open the door and was met with a blast of bright light. He couldn’t tell if it was natural light or not. His adrenaline was pumping at that point, and he slowly entered into the room. After about three feet in, he heard the door slam behind him. He ran up to the door. The knob was locked.

’Well, look what we got ourselves here,” a deep southern draw said behind him. Tom spun around. Standing about 10 feet from him was a man, maybe early 40s, dressed in a white suit that looked like something worn by a plantation owner in the rural south. He towered at 6-ft, 4-inches, and the suit couldn’t hide the broad shoulders and muscular frame that were underneath it. His hair was jet black, his eyes piercing blue. He stuck a cigar in his mouth, took a long puff of it and blew the smoke in the air.

Tom looked at the man. He was intimidating, but he wasn’t about to show his fear. His fuckin’ friends would never let him live it down. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

The man took another puff of the cigar. “I am Alexander Hamilton Bowlregarde the Third, the proprietor of this place.” Tom scoffed. “You ain’t no fuckin’ anything. Ain’t nobody lived here for years.” Alexander smiled. “Well, I think you might be mistaken. I am here. Besides, you are the one trespassing on my property.”

Tom looked confused. “What? There ain’t nobody lived in this places for decades. Now let me the fuck out of here asshole. My friends are going to be –”

“You have a mouth on you, boy,” Alexander said, cutting him off. “I think you maybe need to learn some respect. I can see you acting all tough, but I can also see your upper lip quivering. You is ready to shit your pants, just like a little sissy boy.”

The remark sent rage through Tom. “Sissy boy! I ain’t no fuckin’ faggot! I hate fuckin’ faggots. Now unlock this fuckin” door or –”

Alexander waved off his threat. “Or nothing, sissy boy. You are in my world now. I think maybe what you need is a little discipline. What you really want is to obey. Be my little sissy boy and do what your daddy tells you to do. Of course, maybe I need another opinion.” He took another puff of his cigar. “Jeremy, do you agree?”

Out of the light came a second man, dressed similar in style to Alexander, but with sandy brown hair. He also had an imposing, hulking physique “I do believe you maybe right,” Jeremy replied in a similiar southern accent. “I think the sissy boy needs some training.”

“What!” Tom exclaimed. “I ain’t nobody’s sissy, faggot boy –” Alexander waved his hand in front of Tom, cutting him off again in mid-sentence. “Now, sleep boy.”

Tom tried to get more words out, but could feel sleep coming on him quickly. He stumbled backwards, hitting against the door behind him. His body slowly started to drift to the ground. As his eyes began to close, he caught sight of Alexander giving him one last grin.

Tom couldn’t be sure how long he had been out, but he woke to find his head and hands had been securely fastened through a stockade. He was bent over in a 90 degree angle, and also realized that his jeans and shirt had been removed. He was completely naked and could feel the cool breezes in the room blowing over his body. His cock and balls also felt strange, like they had been encircled with rope that was causing the blood flow in them to be cut off. From what he could tell, he had a raging hard on that was flipping back and forth against his body.

Tom looked down at the floor in front of him when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Ah, the sissy boy is awake. Let the training begin.” Before Tom could reply, he felt the first strike of the cat-o-nine tails against his bare ass. He winced. “What the fuck are you –” He stopped when he felt a second blow strike his ass. Then a third. And a fourth.

“It’s is all about discipline,” Alexander said almost matter-of-factly. “I think your nice muscled ass needs to be a beautiful shade of ruby red.” The strikes started to gain more frequency and picked up in speed. After about ten minutes, they stopped. ’Now if you want this stop, you have to show your daddy obedience.” Jeremy suddenly stood about a foot away from Tom’s secured head. He unzipped his suit pants and produced a 7-1/2 inch hard cock. He waved it in front of Tom’s face.

“Now, if the boy wants daddy to stop beating his ass, he has to take that nice cock in his mouth and suck it.”

“I am not going to suck cock!” Tom exclaimed.

Alexander brought the cat-o-nines back down on Tom’s now red ass. He began alternative whipping motions on each individual cheek. After five more minutes, he set the tails aside and took a three-foot paddle off an adjacent table in the room. Tom felt the paddle strike his ass, and could feel his mind starting to fog up. The next strike came a few seconds later. Then another. After about the tenth, Tom began to fall into a zone. He didn’t really feel the pain, but could feel the sensation of the nerve endings releasing endorphins into his brain. Jeremy looked down at him and nodded to Alexander. “Suck on that cock, boy,” he said, before delivering another whack with the paddle.

Tom stared at Jeremy’s hard cock through glazed eyes. He slowly pushed it towards Tom’s lips, which parted enough to let him stick in the head. Once the head cleared his teeth, Jeremy slowly pushed his cock down Tom’s throat. He began to eagerly suck it. Jeremy started to thrust it faster and faster down his throat. After about five minutes, Jeremy let out a small sigh as he shot a load of cum down Tom’s throat.

Alexander smiled. “That’s my boy. Daddy is proud of you. But you aren’t done quite yet.”

Jeremy pulled out his limp cock from Tom’s mouth and unlocked the stockade. He lifted the young man up. Tom was a little weak but still able to stand. Jeremy led him over by the table and told him stand over top of the object on the floor. It looked like an eight-inch penis that had been carved out of marble. It’s shiny base and head glistened with some type of lubricant that had been smeared on it.

“Now, the boy needs loosen up for tonight. Sit down on that for daddy.”

Tom was dazed but reluctant to follow the order. Alexander responded by giving his ass one large whack with the paddle. The sensation sent yet more endorphins through him and Tom slowly lowered his body towards the dildo. His asshole hovered just above the head of the marble cock. “I said, you are to sit,” Alexander said firmly. Tom let the head of the cock entered his tight hole then slowly lowered himself on another four inches of it. He could feel it stretching his asshole out.

“Good, now starting riding.”

Tom obeyed. He began to move his body up and down the marble dick. At first it was tough to get up higher into his hole, but the top of it finally touched his prostate. He squealed in pleasure. “Oh.. ohhh…” Alexander smiled. “That’s Daddy’s good sissy boy. But there will be no cummin’ for you or your friends. You are hear for our pleasure only. Continue.”

His ass began to slide easily up and down on the marble cock. His own cock, now rock hard, started spewing pre-cum on the floor. After about another ten minutes of stretching out his asshole, Alexander directed him to stop. “That should do just fine for the finale later on. Now let’s get your other friends ready.”


After about ten minutes, Rob and Duane began to worry about Tom’s whereabouts, but they didn’t reveal their concerns to each other. Instead, they decided to go look for “the big pussy” down the multiple hallways. They would search for 10 minutes then meet back in the foyer. Rob walked down two of the hallways already, casually checking each door to see if it might be open. He didn’t find any. Figuring it was about ten minutes, he decided to see if Duane had any luck, when he heard a bumping sound coming from a third hallway.

He rounded the corner, and there, in a middle room of the hall, he could see a dim light coming from the small window that flanked the top of each door. “Fuckin’ asshole,” he said out loud. “He went into a fuckin’ room to whack off probably.” He tried the knob; it opened and he let out a smile. He entered the room and could see a dim light across the room but couldn’t see anything.

He walked in the room about three feet. “Where are you at, asshole? Why did you make us come and find you?” Suddenly, he heard the door close. He ran back but it was locked. “I believe I have a visitor,” he heard a voice from the room. Rob looked into the dim light. A few seconds later, a black man appeared. He was big – 6 ft, 4-inches – and shirtless. The man was bulging with muscle, almost to the proportion of a bodybuilder. He wore faded canvas pants that were held up by a tied rope around his waist.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tom demanded. The man smile. “Never mind who I am. It is just important who you are right now.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Where is my fuckin’ brother, asshole?”

The man’s smile left his face. “You are in no position to ask questions. You are in my place now. You will do what I want.”

Tom’s racist anger suddenly piqued and he couldn’t hold back. “WHAT!,” he exclaimed. “I ain’t nobody’s nigga! I don’t do what you ‘coloreds’ want me to do!”

The man smiled again and talked in a calm tone. “That’s where you are wrong. In this house, you are my nigga.” The man untied the belt on his pants and let them slowly fall to the ground. A massive black cock, only half-hard, poked its way out of his pants. Tom gasped at the size of it. He only seen something near that big on a linebacker in the shower one day in the gym locker room. This cock, with its bulging veins and thick girth, put that one to shame.

“What the fuck are you doin? Are you a fuckin’ queer?” Tom’s hands formed into fists; his muscular arms flexed underneath his T-shirt. If this asshole wanted a fight, he was going to give him one. The man didn’t seem impressed. “Oh, you is a tough one,” he said. “But it don’t make no matter. In this house, you have no control.”

“What! You mother fuckin’ nig–” His voice was cut off by the man’s simple raising of a finger. He would have lunged at the man, but when he tried to move his body, it was frozen. He tried with all his football-trained strength to break the grip of whatever was holding him into place. The man could see the sweat on Rob’s brow. “You are tryin’ but it ain’t no use.”

The black man walked towards Rob and stopped about two feet from him. “Get on your knees, boy. You need to apologize for your disrespect.” Rob continued to fight with all his might against the force in the room, but he could feel his mind starting to haze over. His knees began to slowly buckle and he could sense – but not stop – his body drifting towards the floor. Seconds later, Rob was eye level with the man’s cock, which was now fully erect. Seeing it up close, the cock looked even bigger than he imagined across the room.

“Open your mouth,” the man directed. Rob tried to clench his jaw, but his mouth slowly opened on command. “That’s it. Now take this big black cock into you mouth.”

Rob neck muscles swelled as he tried to flex them. His head, however, began to inch forward until his lips were touching the big dick. The black man placed his hand on Rob’s blonde mop of hair and pulled him onto it. Rob felt the taste of the sweat on head of the cock, and thought he was going to gag. “Now suck.” Rob had just about lost his will to fight. His head moved instinctively down on the cock then came back up to the head. He repeated it until he had about five inches of the swollen black cock in his mouth.

“Let’s go a little faster boy,” the man ordered. Rob continued his mouth movements up and down the shaft of the dick. After a few minutes, the man suddenly stopped him when he had about four inches still in his mouth. “Let me see what this is doin’ to your dick. Look up at me and let your cock out of your pants.” Rob’s eyes looked up at the man’s now grinning face. He took his hands and undid the buttons on his jeans and pulled down his underwear. His 7 ½ inch cock popped out at attention.

“Well isn’t that just a pretty sight. The white boy’s cock is hard as a rock while a big black cock in his mouth. You just hold that there in your mouth for a few seconds.” Rob held all four inches of the black cock in his mouth as his eyes continued to look up at the man. He could feel the smooth skin against the top of his mouth. Part of him wanted to spit the thing out; a stronger part of him knew he had to hold it there as ordered.

“It’s time to give you my seed,” the man said. He forced Rob’s head up and down, faster and faster on the shaft. After another few minutes, the man’s head titled back and he let out a small sigh. Rob could feel the first load of warm cum shot down his now warm throat. The man stopped thrusting and just held Rob’s head again as another creamy white load made its way past his tonsils.

The man pulled his softening cock out of Rob’s mouth. “You are a good little cocksucker, white boy. That’s gonna be a skilled you need and more at the party. There are plenty more where this came from.”


Duane got the uncomfortable feeling that he was now alone. He yelled for Rob several times, but, just like his brother, he calls went unanswered. He went back to the foyer hoping Rob was there. He wasn’t. Duane pondered what to do. Something was going on this place, and he was no longer buzzed enough that he didn’t feel it now. Should he just leave them two here and go get the police? They would probably charge them with trespassing, but so what? He made a move towards the hall way the three had come up when he heard a faint meow behind him.

“That fuckin’ cat,” he said. He turned all the ways around, and notice a smaller hallway not connected to the other longer ones. How had he missed that before? He went over to the hallway and looked down. It was much smaller, with only three doors on the right side. A sign above it read “SERVANTS ONLY.” Suddenly, the cat’s meow was replaced by something that sounded like a musical instrument, and it was coming from the last door in the hallway. Had the brother found something in the room and were playing with him the whole time? He would be fuckin’ pissed.

Duane went down the hall and stood in front of the room. The sound definitely was coming from inside. He tried the knob and opened the door. There was a faint light inside. He stepped in and could hear the sound more plainly. It sounded like a shaking sound. Canastas? Nah, that was fuckin’ stupid.

“Tom? Rob? What kinda fuckin’ joke you playin’ on me?” Duane got about three feet in when the door closed. “Welcome, Gringo,” he heard to his immediate left. Duane jumped when he realized a Mexican man had been standing almost two feet next to him. “What the fuck? Who are you? Where’s my friends?” The Mexican laughed. “You are in the servant’s quarters. I guess that means you want to serve, yes?” The man moved closer. He was shirtless, and Duane could see a thick patch of dark hair covering the chest and arms of his muscled body. He was wearing bolero pants that wrapped around his tight ass and small black boots.

“What? What the fuck kinda joke is this?” The man moved closer to Duane so he was only about a foot away from him. Duane could immediately smell the sweat and perspiration pouring off his body. He winced his nose. ’Ah, you don’t like the smell, huh” the man asked. Before Duane could answer, a second man, a muscled Latino wearing the same outfit, appeared to his right.

“Eh, I don’t think he approves of your man scent,” he said to the Mexican. “Maybe he just needs to sniff and see what a real man smells like.”

Duane didn’t like the way this conversation was going, and knew he had to get out of there. When he tried to move, he realized he couldn’t move his body. Being smaller than Tom, he didn’t have the stature to fight it as hard. “Yeah, I think that’s what the gringo needs. A little man scent.” The Mexico lifted up his muscle arm and placed it behind his head. Duane looked over and could see the sweat glistening in the black patch of hair under his arms. “What the fuck, man, I don’t want to smell no –-”

Before he could finish, the Latino grabbed the back of his head, and forced Duane’s head toward the sweaty armpit. He tried to resist, but the man was too powerful. Seconds later, he nose was buried in the mass of sweat and hair in the Mexican’s pit. “There you go, Gringo. Sniff that fuckin’ pit.”

Duane tried to hold his breathe, but couldn’t for more than 30 seconds. The Latino also had his hand pressed firmly against Duane’s head, insuring that his nose stayed center in the pit. His nostrils began to fill with the Mexican’s odor. At first he found the smell jolting, but as the odor seeped up through his nostrils and into his brain, Duane began to feel a little light-headed; it was like he was getting a buzz from a really fine bag of weed.

“Lick my pit with your tongue. Clean all that man scent out of there,” the Mexican ordered. Duane’s mind started to zone out and all he could do was listen to his orders. He stuck his tongue into the smelly armpit and began flicking his tongue back and forth. A few seconds later, he was lapping up the smell like he was licking an ice cream cone. The more the salty yet sweet taste of the sweat hit his taste buds, the more he could also feel his dick getting harder. The change wasn’t lost on the Latino. “Ah, look at this,” he said. “I think the smell is giving him a hard-on.”

While Duane continued to lick the Mexican’s sweet pit, the Latino reached down and unbuttoned Duane’s jeans. He had always been the bigger of his friends, and the Latino nodded in approval as his 8-inch cock sprang to attention in the cool air of the room. “The boy has a big dick on him,” he said while playing with the nice piss slit on Duane’s cock. “That will come in handy later on.”

After a few minutes of licking on his pit, the Mexican pulled Duane’s head away. “You need some more man smell.” The Latino dropped to the floor on all fours and pushed down his pants exposing his finely muscled, hairy ass. The Mexican gabbed Duane’s head and pushed him to his knees. He turned his head towards the sweaty ass. “Lick it boy.”

Licking a pit was one thing, but Duane couldn’t put his tongue up a guy’s ass. The Mexican didn’t give him much of a choice. He pushed his head further toward the twitching hole of the Latino. Duane tried to resist, but the Mexican was too strong for him. His face slowly inched forward until his nose was up against the crack of the ass. The Mexican pushed him in further. His ass didn’t smell dirty as Duane feared, but smelled clean like he had just taken a shower and there was only a faint man smell coming from it. The Mexican pushed his nose into the crack of the ass, rubbed it around then pulled back. “Pull out your tongue.” Duane tried to resist the command,, but his mind wasn’t cooperating; his mouth dropped open and his tongue stuck out like the hard-on he could now feel growing between his legs again.

The Mexican didn’t wait for him to move, but pushed his tongue into the opening of the Latino’s ass. He heard the man let out a soft moan. Duane instinctively began to lick the rim of the ass and could feel the hair dancing off his lips as his mouth began to swirl in a circular motion around the ass. “That’s a good boy,” the Mexican commented. “Now you are getting the right taste of a fine Latino ass. Make sure you clean that ass out real good.”

Duane’s mind was telling him this wasn’t something he should do, but his subconscious part couldn’t stop from doing as he was told. He tongue darted further into the Latino’s hairy ass crack, licking and teasing the inside of the anus. After 10 more minutes of the cleaning, the Mexican pulled his head back and raised him to his feet.

“You seem to enjoy the nice taste of that ass,” the Mexican said while smiling. “But we have to get you ready for the rest of the night’s festivities that you and your friends are going to be the special guests at. The host does not want you to be late.”

Continued with “The Party”

This story hasn't received enough ratings yet!

Please use the controls below to rate this story
Mind control
Wanking material
You've created tags exclusively for this story! Please avoid exclusive tags!