Small Town Homophobes Get Their Cum-uppance – Page 1

A gay couple puts two arrogant homophobes and even their more liberal-minded nephew through a humiliating experience that includes tickling, spanking, ass play and forced orgasms in another hot story from Richard that includes something for almost everyone! Art by Jonathan. (Page 1)

Small Town Homophobes Get Their Cum-uppance – Page 1
By Richard
Art by Jonathan

homophobes-cumRon Phillips and Phil Brent, were recent (well, 6-months anyway) arrivals from the Big City to their new home, a smaller, far-more-conservative city. Phil’s job re-assigned him for a higher wage and Ron soon found a job working for a security firm that used much the same technology as his former place of employment in the Big City. Being gay, they were not too happy with the conservative bent of the small-town-ish city and were tired of people assuming they were “brothers” living together rather than lovers.

The duo had recently joined the best gym in the area, and while it was definitely not gay-friendly, there were plenty of hot guys around to keep them interested even if it was only “to look not touch”. They had both nudged each other surreptitiously while working out, each eyeing a hunky 6′ 3″ dude in his late 20′s they had spotted earlier, a suit-and-tie-clad guy who drove a Mercedes roadster and had already been seen arrogantly ordering around the gym staff as if the dude owned the place. He was now working out across the gym floor in gym attire, a designer tank-top and gym shorts, the duo secretly admiring his stylishly-cut dirty-blond hair, buff, tanned body, dirty-blond hair-flecked chest and dark blond pit hairs as he did so.

Out of curiosity they had actually even managed to follow his Mercedes on their way home (well, the dude was so far going in their direction anyway they laughed in an attempt to justify their “stalking” of the guy). In any case, keeping their distance, they were able to see him from a block or so behind when he turned into the circular driveway of a large home at the end of the street, shielded from view by a low wall and high hedges, on one of the city’s best and most expensive streets- the dude was not only movie-star-handsome but apparently loaded as well! Ron nudged Phil and noted that the dude had small, ever-so-discreet lawn signs (the tony zoning prohibited any large signs) that advertised that this guy’s place had a security system (“AGT Security-Armed Response”) with the very company Ron now worked for.

Over the next few weeks Ron and Phil further fairly often saw the same dude jogging around his tony neighborhood, sighing as he passed by.

However, it was not until they saw something in the local newspaper the following week that the duo began to give some serious thought to activity other than vague musing about what a hot stud their “stalkee” was.

That is, the duo saw an article with the very same dude’s pic in the town’s (well- small city’s) only major (and very-right-wing-leaning- OK, totally redneck) newspaper, the inappropriately-named “Happy Valley Gazette”- “All The News That’s Fit To Print”- and ["More Often All The News That Is Not Fit To Print,"] quipped the duo).

It was in this article that the duo learned that their otherwise-heartthrob-material was one “Travis Powers, 28,” and was “the head of the Conservative Alliance- Police Commission Board Of Concerned Citizens,” “along with other notable citizens of our fine community, such as the highly respected eminent Mr. Beauregard “Beau” Tutwiler, also pictured,” “a full-blooded member of one of the most prestigious Tutwiler families of the South, as our readers most certainly already are quite well aware of.”

The article approvingly noted that “Mssrs. Powers and Tutwiler” were the “driving force” behind recent “stings” in a gay cruising restroom (this last bit was disguised a bit for the conservative rag’s readers who generally were appalled at the mere mention of restroom facilities at all, let alone anyone in general actually using them and certainly at the mere thought of any LGBT person in particular actually using them) which had entrapped several gay men (translated into “a limp-wristed brigade” by the paper) with the plainclothes cops masquerading as horny suit-and-tie-clad businessmen (apparently including the handsome Mssrs. Powers and Tutwiler) whose encouraging smiles and winks and suggestive crotch-rubbing (all of this essential and damning information also being carefully edited out by the eminent blue-nosed, blue-haired, and blue-pencil-wielding Miss Priscilla Wiggins, the paper’s Editor-In-Chief, with her trademark, vicious flourish with her notorious blue pencil) which netted several unwitting gay guys (the “limp-wristed brigade”) who, (thus encouraged left unsaid), “exposed themselves” (this part was left in the article) to the “disgust” of the “upstanding Mssrs. Powers and Tutwiler,” the cops having them all hauled into court and labeled as “sex offenders” for the rest of their lives- their names all listed in the newspaper as well- “served the perverts right!” was “Mr. Powers’ refreshingly candid take on the whole otherwise sordid event, quite like one would expect our readers’ dear Mr. Trump to have candidly remarked as well, in this era of annoying political correctness which will soon be annihilated when ‘that Hillary person’ is soundly defeated ” per the newspaper article, heartily approved by and embellished by the ever-blue-nosed (and otherwise blue-pencil-wielding) Miss Wiggins.

It seemed from the newspaper article that the up-and-coming Travis Powers was “this fine town’s handsome and most successful stockbroker.” Phil and Ron later learned that in fact Powers was notoriously good at winning over the town’s wealthy widows with his good looks and boyish charm- and then who, in a not-so-well-known way, often sold them stocks based more on his commissions and buying and selling fees than was actually good for the widows’ portfolios, in order to pad his own bank account at their expense, but Powers’ winning ways and charm left the elderly widows blushing and tittering over his apparent concern for their well-being, doing and buying and selling whatever “the charming Mr. Powers” suggested.

In any case, the newsy news article made it clear that Powers was intending to use his notoriety as a “save the family” candidate to parlay his good looks and conservative credentials in order to throw his hat into the ring for mayor. The article was by-lined by the newspaper’s ever-loquacious Tammy Sue Givens, her articles always featuring her with large pics of her equally large trademark 1980′s-style incredibly (and improbably) big-haired look (who also served as the newspaper’s extremely popular gossip columnist) gushing in her article under the handsome young Powers’ own picture that “and mind you, girls, the prosperous Mr. Powers is a red-blooded All-American single guy, and what a CATCH dont’cha y’all think?”

After the article came out, although at great risk to himself should he be caught, Ron wasted no time getting Powers’ security code information to disarm and/or re-set his alarm system. Armed, as it were, with this information and the conveniently efficient notations by the security company’s computer as to Travis Powers’ customary work hours and other personal information, Ron and Phil were easily able to enter Power’s home, shielded from any nosey neighbors’ view by the low wall and high hedges, even accessing the attached garage (Travis always just parked in the circular drive per the security company info) to offload some “equipment” they intended to use.

In case any nosey neighbors were somehow able to see, the duo further came dressed in white shorts and white tees, posing as masseurs that none of the neighbors would likely find odd in a tony neighborhood like this- it may be a bit of a “hick town” but this was the area where the “richest hicks” lived.

The duo actually had a few hours to snoop around the big house, triumphantly locating Powers’ clothes hamper containing a treasure trove of the stud’s as-yet-unwashed gym clothes, underwear, jogging outfits, jockstraps and the like, liberally sniffing the studly essences of their intended and bagging them all as souvenirs for later enjoyment.

Ron, something of a computer geek himself, was further able to access Powers’ Facebook account compiling a list of Facebook friends and their full names, addresses and phone numbers including cell phones from the lists thoughtfully maintained on Power’s home computer. He soon found none other than Beauregard “Beau” Tutwiler’s cell phone number, and with a wink at Phil actually inputted the number and rang. The duo had since learned that Beau Tutwiler was 35, and married with 3 kids. A “trust fund” baby, Beau had never really worked a day in his entire privileged life but the darkly handsome hunk “played office” at his “Daddy Tutwiler’s” real estate company and mostly spent his time golfing or playing tennis at the “absolutely, completely restricted” Royal Oaks Country Club (“no Jews, blacks, Hispanics, or Asians need apply”) where he was Club President and Chairman Of Admissions.

Sure enough, when Beau picked up he soon made it clear that he in fact had just finished a round of golf at the Club, and Ron had given him a not-so-believable line that “Uh, Mr. Tutwiler, sir? you see, uh, Travis Powers asked me to call to let you know that he has hired another masseur and myself to give you a complimentary (“er, that means free” noted Ron, given Tutwiler’s reportedly not-too-bright nature) er, that is a, 4-handed deep tissue massage over here at his house? He, uh, said you had complained of some back issues after your last golf game with him and it is the least he could do for such a good friend and that he just won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Mr. Powers has, er, used our, er, services for, uh, years and we cum, er come, highly recommended.”

“Well, don’t that beat all, though?” drawled Beau into his cell. “That’s just like my good ol’ ex-frat boy Travis, such a fine young gentleman, a true Patriot! We serve on a lot of committees together- you know- that is to save our fine community from these outside agitators, goddamned homos, pinkos and Commies and all, as you probably know. As a matter of fact, I just finished a round of golf over here at the Club and my back is actin’ up somethin’ awful. You say over at Travis’ place, eh? Jeez, I can be over there in a few minutes, just let me shower and change, eh?” continued Beau.

“We’ll be waiting for you, Mr. Tutwiler, sir!” assured Ron, winking at Phil. “We’ve set up in the bedroom next to the master, you know it? The front door to the house is open and Mr. Powers asked us to disarm the alarm so you can just walk right in, sir” continued Ron. “Oh and if you’d park your car around the side, you know, that extra parking area off the main driveway? Mr. Powers likes to leave the circular driveway free of cars so he can always park there,” (not wanting to tip Powers off to another visitor in case Powers arrived unexpectedly earlier than the security company’s time logs indicated was his usual time). “Sure, I know the layout of Travis’ place and the side drive- no prob- I’ll leave the circular free for Travis in case he comes home early. See ya in a few. And thanks, much obliged!” finished Tutwiler, ringing off, genuinely looking forward to a nice massage and a free one at that!

Less than 20 minutes later, the duo peeked out of the window of one of the secondary bedrooms as they heard Beau Tutwiler pull up in a huge black Land Rover, catching only a quick glimpse of the speeding vehicle as it shot out of sight to park in the out-of-sight extra parking area and head for the front door. The duo chuckled at Beau’s golf outfit- a form-fitting bright yellow Izod Lacoste alligator-logo shirt and “bright bright” red golfing slacks. No one was likely shoot errant balls in his direction in that outfit (at least not, er, golf balls, they mused).

Beau let himself in and Ron and Phil, clad in their masseur outfits, introduced themselves and welcomed him. Beau took in the duo, satisfied that they appeared to be quite fit and totally masculine. Beau was a bit apprehensive about this “massage business” having only received back massages from the Club’s “Spic masseur” (as Beau referred to him) “Manny he calls himself-real name’s Manuel (pronounced “manual” in Beau’s drawl instead of closer to “man-well”), and only when Beau was covered by a towel and underwear, and Beau assumed this massage would be the same.

In any case, Beau soon found himself in one of the secondary bedrooms off the master as instructed which was indeed outfitted with a massage table brought in by the duo through the attached garage.

After some small talk, Ron delighted in saying “if you will just disrobe we may begin.” The duo loved the way the eminent, powerful community member seemed a bit shocked by this “order,” the duo taking in the fact that the 35-year-old married dude was extremely well built as well, the salt-and-pepper-haired executive (well actually more pepper than salt as of yet except mostly at the temples) exuding a confident, male allure that, coupled with his extreme family wealth and lineage, many people (including the duo!) no doubt would find alluring.

“Er-um, ya mean right here?” queried Beau a bit taken aback. He was not used to undressing in front of “inferiors” after all. “Now, don’t be shy, Mr. Tutwiler. Mr. Powers is quite used to disrobing in front of us- but under the cover of a towel, of course” said Ron, encouragingly, also tossing the hotshot a towel.

Since Travis seemed to be OK with it, Tutwiler shrugged and slowly raised his yellow Izod Lacoste shirt over his head, revealing a suntanned torso with a nice carpet of manly chest hair and dark, hairy armpits as he did so. The dude clearly worked out at the Club gym as well, as his impressive chest and washboard abs attested to. Amusingly, Beau then proceeded to kick off his shoes and unhitch his “bright bright” red golfing slacks but under the cover of the towel, then wriggled out of them revealing strong suntanned hairy legs in the process, the waistband of his grey “Emporio Armani” boxer briefs also slightly revealed.

As Beau then started to proceed toward the massage table thus attired if skimpily so, Ron said “Er, Mr. Tutwiler, sir- those Emporio Armani boxer briefs are expensive top-of-the-line garments, sir, er, we wouldn’t want them to get stained or even ruined by our massage oils, sir. Why don’t you remove them-under the towel of course- and then we can proceed?”

“What the? Now see here, young fella, we Tutwilers aren’t exactly short of a dime! It won’t matter if my Armanis get a bit of oil on ‘em” reasoned Beau.

“Just the same sir, if you don’t mind. We just want Mr. Powers to continue to be such a good customer and all and not to hear that we, er, soiled his best friend’s, er, clothes….” hazarded Ron.

“Well, OK then, anything for good ol’ Travis” replied Tutwiler, shimmying as he tugged down his Armani boxer briefs, down and off his bare ankles under the cover of the towel, kicking them aside.

“Let me take those for you, sir” said Phil, helpfully- (doing so with the intent to add them to their growing bag of “souvenirs” in fact).

As Beau did so he couldn’t help exclaiming that “Woo-eee, you guys got me bareass nekkid under this towel- feels kinda funny! Whenever Manny at the Club gives me a backrub I keep my damn shorts on- kinda a draft in here…” noted Tutwiler, a bit wary.

“Oh, not to worry, sir! All perfectly normal. You’ll get used to it- Travis did…”

“Well, Hell’s Bells, if Travis did, don’t let it be said that a Tutwiler and his good ol’ frat bro was not up to the challenge as well!” chuckled Beau.

Still, as Beau went over to the massage table and lay face down on the padded surface he was only too well aware that he could feel his manly “junk” unencumbered by any other covering or support, freely swinging and swaying underneath the not overly large “privacy towel”.

Then, just as the eminent Mr. Tutwiler was settling in on the massage table on his stomach, with his for-now-towel-covered-ass up, Ron and Phil suddenly grabbed his wrists and ankles respectively and began inserting them all into strong velcro “restraints,” each simultaneously apologizing and saying “I expect Travis told you that now the ‘Obama Administration’ has mandated that all masseurs in the entire country must, absolutely must, securely fasten the person being massaged onto the massage table to prevent injury or risk loss of our licenses…” the whole “Obama Administration” bit having the expected result of Beau loudly protesting “WHAT WILL THAT GODDAMNED DARKIE THINK OF NEXT!!?? FUCKIN’ NANNY RULES LIKE WE ARE ALL SMALL CLUELESS CHILDREN!!!! THANK GOD WE HAVE TRUMP COMING IN!!!,” but then, relenting with a loud sigh “but I suppose if you guys HAVE to comply for now or lose your license- at least until these goddamn Democrats are gone forever!!- so I’ll put up with it for now- since my good ol’ bud Travis did too…” reasoned Beau.

Soon the duly restrained (very much so although he had yet to discover exactly how well he was in fact trussed to the massage table) Beau was literally “oooing and ahhing” at the “4-hand” massage of his upper and lower back with warmed massage oils, the arrogant Tutwiler secretly enjoying the fact that the entire experience would be absolutely free of charge thanks to Travis. (Although the Tutwilers were loaded, they kept themselves there by demanding their “due” based on their family name and “free” and “comp’ed” were always good [and expected] words in the Tutwiler “book/vocabulary”)

“OHHH YESSSSSS!!! THAT FEELS SO DAMNED GOOOOD!!! JUST WHAT I NEEDED!!! YESSSSSS!!!! MORE!!!!!! KEEP IT UP!!!! JUST LIKE THAT!!!!! DEEP TISSUE!!! RIGHT THERE!!! AHHHHHHHHH, YESSSSSSS, RELIEVE THAT TENSION, AHHHHHHHH!!!!!” moaned the arrogant Tutwiler as he squirmed in ecstatic response to their actually halfway decent ministrations (given the fact that in reality they had virtually no idea what they were doing- legitimate massage-wise anyway), music to the duo’s ears, as the scented oils were deeply massaged all over his upper and lower suntanned, muscular back as he lay bound securely to the massage table.

After several more minutes of this sensual, but stress-relieving, massage of Tutwiler’s upper and lower back, Ron unceremoniously suddenly whipped off Beau’s “privacy towel” altogether, exposing his dark-hair-flecked white bubble butt which was in extreme contrast to the rest of his deeply suntanned muscular body causing Beau to exclaim “WHAT THE FUCK??!! PUT THAT BACK OVER MY ASS RIGHT NOW!!! I’M TOTALLY FUCKIN’ NEKKID FOR GOD’S SAKE!!!!”

“But Mr. Tutwiler, sir, the oil was seeping down there anyway, and we’re surprised that Travis didn’t let you know that we ALWAYS massage his, er, gluteals, as part of the massage, they ARE part of one’s back you know…” hazarded Ron.

“What? You say Travis has his er, backside, nekkid backside, massaged? They NEVER do that at the Club! Manny never has! NO, I think I’ll pass on that!” as Tutwiler began to squirm in his naked bondage, deeply embarrassed at this embarrassing exposure in front of these two inferior beings.

“Not to worry, Mr. Tutwiler, sir. You’ll see. It feels GREAT just like you liked the rest of your back massage. Travis says it’s the best part- the er- ‘coccyx’ bone is at the base of your spine at or very near the top of one’s, er, asscrack and the release of pressure there can be the difference between night and day- when that pressure is released I guarantee your back issues will be resolved for weeks!” lied Ron, albeit convincingly.

“Well… if my good ol’ bud Travis says so- and if it will help for weeks then I say OK!” replied Tutwiler, unsuspecting.

To Tutwiler’s horror, however, more oil was then poured all over his upturned, hair-flecked bubble butt, the totally white but hair-flecked surface becoming all shiny and oily as 4 hands massaged (and widely separated!) the cheeks of the arrogant elitist’s totally exposed ass, the air conditioning vent above blowing cool air directly onto the now totally exposed virgin asshole of their sanctimonious homophobic victim as the masseurs’ fingers also goosed and teased their now moaning victim’s virgin hole without actually penetrating it (yet), causing Tutwiler to loudly moan “OH NOOOO!!! STOPPPP!! NOT THERE!!!!! BE CAREFUL!!!! OHHHH YESSS!! I MEAN NOOO!!! STOPPP!!”

To Tutwiler’s further horror, all this unwanted and never-before-experienced attention to his bare ass and virgin hole, and the warm oil pooling onto Tutwiler’s hairy balls and large cock sensually pressing into the padded leather surface of the massage table, had the embarrassingly cumulative effect of making the arrogant Tutwiler’s massive manhood fill with blood and begin to rise to full erection under the cover of the massage table where it lay pleasantly squashed but secretly growing to Beau’s utter dismay. His wife, the prized and eminent former Southern Cotillion debutante and lifelong Southern Belle, whose every social move/party/would-be charity event the Gazette’s Society Page religiously and gushingly followed to the nth degree, none other than the noble Mrs. Sue-Anne Pickett-Burnside Tutwiler, had been away visiting her sick auntie and he hadn’t been “getting any” that was why-er-this was happening, he reasoned.

Beau could not believe his ears when he heard Ron suddenly say to the “the other guy-Phil or whatever his name was” (Tutwiler was too superior to remember EVERY name of his underlings after all) “OK Mr. Tutwiler, time to roll over so we can massage your chest…chest massages are also beneficial for the back….” to which Tutwiler replied…

“OH NOOO!! NO NEED FOR THAT! MY BACK FEELS MUCH BETTER!!! JUST UN-HITCH ME FROM THIS GODDAMNED FUCKING OBAMA THING AND I’LL BE ON MY WAY!!”

“No, Mr. Tutwiler, Travis INSISTED that we give you a FULL massage…” replied Ron, as Ron and Phil expertly suddenly flipped Beau onto his back and quickly re-fastened his arms and wrists to the massage table as Tutwiler struggled mightily, which only had the effect of emphasizing the fact that he now had grown a full-fledged, pulsating BONER!

“OH MY GOD!!! PLEASE LET ME GO!! THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING!!!! MY SUE-ANNE (THAT’S MY WIFE, YOU KNOW) IS OUT OF TOWN VISITING HER SICK AUNTIE, AND, WELL, I HAVEN’T BEEN, ER, GETTING , ER, ‘ANY,’ IS ALL, AND….” abjectly “explained” Tutwiler.

“Now, now, Mr. Tutwiler, sir. This is entirely normal! It happens all the time (even to Travis!) Nothing to be concerned about at all! We are professionals! We know how to take care of all of our clients’ tensions!” reassured Ron (well, sort of, he hoped).

“Now just let us do our jobs and relieve all the tensions in your body!” went on Ron.

It was at this point that Ron and Phil were amazed to hear the big unlocked front door of the house slam shut. Seconds later, Ron and Phil’s own eyes bugged out at the totally unexpected event when a 6′ 2″ deeply suntanned long-blond-haired Adonis clad in white tennis shirt and tennis shorts (apparently after having completed a game at the Club), suddenly appeared whereupon Beau Tutwiler exclaimed “Chad! Thank God you must have finished that call you got when we rolled up here and got bored waiting in the Land Rover. Get me the hell out of this goddamned Obama contraption thingy they’ve got me strapped into! I think these fellers must be some kinda fags or something! They must have deliberately tried to work me up er and get me er excited…”

Chad’s response was to openly burst out laughing his own humpy ass off at his trussed-up “Uncle Beau’s” predicament, bound bare-assed to the massage table with a big boner jutting out of his hirsute dark pubic bush. Ron and Phil were eventually to learn that Chad Jensen was Beauregard Tutwiler’s nephew visiting from Southern California, the 21-year old son of Beau’s considerably older sister, Susan Tutwiler Jensen, who met Chad’s father, the famous former Olympic skier and social media entrepreneur, Lars Jensen, and that Beau’s muscular nephew Chad Jensen was already an accomplished surfer, Chad’s long blond “surfer dude” hair a bone of contention with his ultra-conservative “Uncle Beau.” The Jensens were in town visiting the Tutwilers for a few weeks during Chad’s college break. The Jensens were considerably more liberal politically, much to “Uncle Beau’s” disgust, frequent loud arguments erupting between and among “Uncle Beau” and the entire Jensen family.

“Looks like you’re, uh, ENJOYING yourself plenty, Uncle Beau, slapping the side of his uncle’s bare, hairy thigh for emphasis, causing Beau’s totally engorged boner to gyrate like a fuckin’ metronome! Look, your ‘Mr. Happy’ is at full attention, dude, and no one’s laying a fuckin’ finger on ya right now!” noted Chad.

Chad went on, “Who the fuck cares if these dudes are gay, anyway? It’s time you loosened yourself up, man, go with the flow- don’t be so damned uptight, right? Don’t tell me ya never heard of a ‘Happy Ending’ massage, dude? Jeez, me and my college buds each got one of those on our last spring break trip to Vegas- these Asian chicks worked us over good and ended with blowjobs or handjobs- it was great! I’ll bet it feels just as good from a guy or guys- you know what they say about gay guys being better than chicks, about knowing how to get a dude to get off big time, right?”

“I know NO SUCH THING, CHAD. THAT IS A DISGUSTING THING TO EVEN SAY!!! YOU WOULDN’T LET SOME FAG ACTUALLY WORK YOU OVER, WOULD YOU!!!???? NOW GET ME OUT OF THIS DAMNED OBAMA THING” countered Beau, shocked to his conservative core that any nephew of his could even be (what do they call it? “bi-curious”?- SHOCKING!) (yet Beau’s boner continued to pulsate hard as a rock the entire time no matter how much he tried to will it to deflate)

“Why the fuck not? All these fuckin’ ‘Southern Belles’ in this damn hick town are all ‘savin’ themselves’ for marriage- at least it would be a change from being reduced to jerking off! Might as well see what these guys can do!” reasoned Chad, to Beau’s further abject horror.

As Chad looked on and openly laughed at his trussed Uncle’s predicament, a bug-eyed, now trussed-on-his-back-with-huge-boner sticking up Tutwiler could now only look down at his pulsing manhood as Phil began first massaging and tweaking Beau’s manly nips through their manly carpet of dark chest hair while Ron alternately “massaged” his rock-hard abs and innie navel and then very near their victim’s pulsating boner, whereupon Phil began actually LICKING and TWEAKING Tutwiler’s manly nips through his carpet of dark chest hair whereupon Ron began actually SUCKING Tutwiler’s tumescent cock and began licking his hairy, cum-churning balls as well, whereupon Tutwiler struggled wildly in his bonds, going “HEY!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING???!!! STOP THIS SHIT!!! LET ME GO!!! MANNY AT THE CLUB NEVER DID ANY SHIT LIKE THIS!!! LET ME THE FUCK GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Deaf to Tutwiler’s pleas, as Chad continued to laugh and point (and record with his i-Phone for his own amusement and blackmail potential) Ron and Phil kept up their edging of the struggling, cursing Tutwiler, Ron going so far as to suddenly (and somewhat shockingly even to the more liberal-minded Chad) first rim and then even finger fuck Tutwiler’s virgin hole as the arrogant Tutwiler moaned in apparent ecstasy, followed by a vibrating buttplug, while Phil hopped up onto Tutwiler’s protesting naked body, licking Tutwiler’s neck, throat, hairy pits, and nips through Tutwiler’s carpet of dark chest hair causing them to stand up like little dicks as their victim moaned with unbidden lust, all caught on the hidden cams and Chad’s i-Phone. Chad found himself idly rubbing the crotch of his tennis shorts, amazed to note that all of this “abuse” of his conservative, loud-mouthed, homophobic tight-assed uncle was turning him on as well.

At this point, Tutwiler was so out-of-it and horny and dying to get his rocks off that he was going “OK, OK YOU FUCKIN’ FAGS, FINISH ME OFF!! I’M ALMOST THERE!!! C’MON, C’MON! ANY SECOND NOW!! I’M GONNA BLAST SO HARD!!! GONNA SPRAY YOUR FAGGOT FACES!!!!” only for Ron and Phil to completely back off, leaving the arrogant Tutwiler unsatisfied. “WHAT THE FUCK???!!! I WAS ALMOST THERE! WHY DID YOU STOP??? ARGHHHHH!!!!”

Chad laughed his head off at his conservative uncle’s humiliation. The fuckin’ asshole conservative shit sure as hell deserved to be cum-denied, mused Chad. And having it all on his phone to lord it over his tight-assed uncle (not quite as tight as it used to be mused Chad after the brief “toy” insertion into his homophobic married uncle’s butch ass) was priceless. Imagine what Beau’s “Southern Belle” wife Aunt Sue-Anne would think if Chad ever threatened to show ‘em to her? The blackmail potential was mind-boggling and made Chad’s own dick jump a bit more at the mere thought.

Chad was even more jazzed when Ron and Phil produced some tiny artist paintbrushes that they had brought in their “bag of tricks,” and as Ron lightly applied one to Beau’s bound exposed right foot and Phil began teasing their bound still-rigidly-bonerized homophobe’s nips and pits with the maddening tiny brushes Beau went “AIEEEEEEEE!!!! FUCK NOOOOOOOO!!! THAT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH FUCKIN’ HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! TICKLES!!!!!! HEEHEEHEEHEHHEHAHAHAHAAH!” as Uncle Beau unwittingly gave a performance close to that “Democrat lambada” dance on the massage table, his cum-denied boner pulsing and swaying as he squirmed and squealed like a pig in his bondage.

With a wink from Ron and the pointed offer of an artist paintbrush to Chad, Chad was soon very eagerly joining in with clearly sadistic relish at the cum-uppance of his arrogant, homophobic uncle. Chad found himself joining in enthusiastically, winking at the gay duo with totally sadistic relish, taking Beau’s left foot which he actually straddled in his tight white tennis shorts to further immobilize it and began reaching back to tickle his uncle’s pink, crinkly soles and toes (Ron secretly loving the view Ron got of Chad’s own ass as the movement made the material of Chad’s white tennis shorts tighten over the curvature of the young studly surfer dude’s own extremely humpy ass, Ron noting that it was evident that Chad was only wearing a jockstrap under the shorts, the leg straps clearly outlined underneath his tennis shorts as he bent over his uncle’s trapped foot. Chad’s long blond surfer-dude hair fell forward over his handsome face as Chad dug in, Ron also mesmerized as Beau’s wildly wriggling foot and curling toes actually accidentally wormed their way up the hem of Chad’s white tennis shorts snapping the leg straps of his nephew’s jock as his foot jerked spasmodically from all the tickling). Chad then traced the brushes up and down his uncle’s hairy legs, only to sadistically zero in on Beau’s exposed hairy balls, cock and even his uncle’s tight hair-haloed asshole (without directly touching him with his hands) as Chad, winking at Ron and Phil, maneuvered his recording i-Phone to record, in extreme and humiliating close-ups, his homophobic uncle’s most intimate areas, laughing as his uncle alternately cursed wildly at his gleeful, vengeful nephew, and then screeched and giggled, as the bound homophobe was expertly kept on the edge of a massive orgasm by the trio, only to be again cum-denied.

However, then Ron produced a second massage table and said “since you claim to be the more liberal member of the family, how about it Chad, eh?”

Chad was a bit taken aback by this himself. He’d actually had “passes” made at him by gay guys in the past even in high school and then at college and always politely declined. But after at least 10 days with nothing more than flirting with the “not-until-we’re-married” Southern Belles of the town, he was tempted, within limits, of course. And working over his deserving uncle had already been something of a turn on.

So, why not let these horny gay guys who were clearly turned on by his studly presence get him off, reasoned Chad?? Chad had seen how they looked Chad over- it was almost pathetic how the horny gay duo had been practically drooling at the sight of Chad’s sun -tanned muscular surfer-dude bod and who could blame them? It might be fun to get these two gay dudes all excited just by using his own buff surfer-dude bod to tempt them, having the clear fuckin’ power to get them all worked up in a fuckin’ gay lather, to Chad’s secret amusement over his power over them, to the point where they would want to (maybe make them beg to!) give him a fuckin’ tongue bath like he had seen done by 2 chicks to a dude in one of Chad’s favorite downloaded porn clips he whacked off to when no chick was around to fuck, not that that ever happened much back in more free-spirited California, not with a fuckin’ hot bod like Chad’s. Chad had his pick of chicks at home in California and fully indulged himself in as much sex as he wanted, the chicks turned on by how his big Nordic/Tutwiler cunt-rammer banged their brains out and left the chicks wildly squealing, eagerly grabbing and clawing at his bare white ass with wild abandon, sometimes even raking their long fingernails deep into the succulent white flesh of his upturned, wildly-thrusting-on-the verge of-male-orgasm and utterly fuckin’ perfect, manly bubble buttmounds, sometimes leaving deep scratches as they squealed in the throes of their own orgasms, widely separating his manly, hair-lined cheeks as they did so, and begging for more- again who the fuck could blame them anyway?- he knew he had that power over women and now clearly over men as well! This could be fun, mused Chad, rallying to the idea of egging the clearly (and quite understandably helplessly enraptured) drooling gay guys on with his buff, suntanned surfer-dude bod.

“So, you horny gay guys want a piece of me, eh? Yeah, I’ve seen those looks you’ve been giving me. TELL me how much you horny gay guys want me. Let me hear it. BEG for it!” ordered Chad, his prick pulsating in his jock under his tennis shorts as he did so. This was gonna be much more fun than he thought.

Though taken aback, Ron decided to play along for the time being, going “OH YEAH CHAD-BABY!! WE WANNA WORSHIP YOUR STUDLY SURFER-DUDE BODY FROM HEAD TO TOE!! YOU’RE DRIVING US CRAZY WITH LUST, MAN!!!”

Thus encouraged, Chad began flexing his suntanned biceps, revealing sweat stains under his form-fitting white tennis shirt and saying “so, you guys like what you see, eh!? Ya know I didn’t have time to even shower after my tennis game, so I’m still sweaty all over, especially in my pits and my jock. Does that turn you horny gay guys on?” queried Chad as he gyrated and thrust his hips for emphasis.

“OH YEAHH, MAN!! YOU’RE DRIVING US GAY GUYS CRAZY!!!” was Ron’s fervent response, music to Chad’s ears.

“So, you guys, like wanna sniff me all over and shit like that? Maybe you can and maybe you can’t. Again, BEG for it!!” commanded Chad.

“OH YEAHH, MAN!! WE WANNA SNIFF AND LICK YOU ALL OVER OH PUH-LEEZE!!!!” begged Ron, playing along.

“Well, OK then, I guess since you fuckin’ BEGGED for it you can, like, sniff me but NO MORE!” ordered Chad.

Ron and Phil therefore approached Chad carefully, each going for a respective sweaty armpit to sniff and lick through Chad’s ultra-thin cotton tennis shirt, Chad loving the power he had over the two gay guys, the horny surfer dude able to feel their tongues and hot gusts of breath under his manly pits through the extremely thin cotton of his tight tennis shirt, the gay duo glad to hear a sudden intake of breath as the sexy Chad threw back his long blond sweaty mane of hair in response to their ministrations, and let out a few low moans of lust as the duo eagerly feasted on Chad’s manly pit smell and teased the sensitive skin of the young dude’s hairy armpits.

Chad recovered sufficiently to “order” the eager duo to “OK, now check out those tennis shorts too! I know you guys wanna sniff and lick me down there as well! Show me how much ya want me!! Go on! Show me!” ordered Chad.

Ron and Phil happily complied, Ron burying his face into the crotch of Chad’s sweaty tennis shorts while Phil contented himself by sniffing and licking the sweat-soaked crack of Chad’s humpy, tennis-short-covered ass, Chad going “YEAH THAT’S IT! SNIFF MY CROTCH!! SNIFF MY ASS!! GO ON!! SHOW ME HOW MUCH YOU GAY GUYS WANNA SERVICE A STRAIGHT SURFER DUDE!! And then, “LOOK UNCLE BEAU- SEE HOW HOT IT IS TO BE SERVICED BY GAY GUYS!? – WHATTAYA THINK??”

“THIS IS ABSOLUTELY REVOLTING!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT I AM SEEING!! DON’T LET THEM DO SUCH DISGUSTING THINGS TO YOU!!! THEY’RE FAGS!!!” protested Beau, horrified, though his boner remained all the more rampant.

“YEAH WELL YOUR COCK SEEMS TO LIKE WHAT IT SEES!! HARD AS A ROCK, UNCLE BEAU!!!” crowed Chad to Beau’s abject humiliation who could not figure out why his manhood was betraying him in view of this “clearly disgusting homosexual conduct.”

“So, whattaya think, gay guys, whattaya say I lose my tennis shirt, eh? Would ya like that, eh? Whattaya say? BEG for it!” ordered Chad.

Phil then chimed in ‘”OH YEAHH CHAD, PLEASE DO!! WE BEG YOU!!”

Since they “begged,” Chad divested himself of his sweaty tennis shirt, revealing a suntanned chest with a triangle of dark blond chest hair at the center of his deeply suntanned surfer dude chest and dirty-blond-haired sweaty armpits. “Feast yourselves, my slavish worshippers!” ordered Chad, as Ron and Phil eagerly complied. Ron and Phil again slavishly lapped and sniffed suck and blew their hot breath onto the sweaty armpit hairs of the studly surfer dude, separating the forest of hairs as their wildly darting tasters devoured Chad’s accumulated sweat from his tennis game which was nearly devoid of his deodorant which had long since given up the ghost to be replaced by manly mansweat, as Chad was unable to suppress more sighs and moans at the sexy contact, Ron and Phil also tweaking each of the stud’s nips into full erection, Chad realizing that his nips were hard-wired to his aching, unsatisfied prick which still lay trapped in the pungent pouch of his sweaty jock below, Chad moaning and mewling despite himself as he found himself arching his suntanned muscular back to give the duo greater access to his rock-hard nips which stood up like little dicks on his deeply suntanned chest, his unfulfilled dick throbbing in his jock in response. “Damn, these gay guys DID know what the fuck they were doing!” realized Chad, not that he was about to say so, at least not yet.

“So, whattaya think, gay guys, whattaya say I lose my tennis shorts, eh? Would ya like that, eh? Whattaya say? BEG for it!” ordered Chad.

Ron then chimed in ‘”OH YEAHH CHAD, PLEASE DO!! WE BEG YOU!!”

Since they again “begged” as bidden, Chad divested himself of his sweaty tennis shorts, revealing him clad only in his sweaty jockstrap, its sweaty, pungent pouch already tented by the young surfer dude’s obvious sexual reaction to this worship of his to-die-for body. “Whattaya gay guys think about that, eh? You guys wanna go for it?? BEG FOR IT!!!” ordered Chad.

“LORDY LORDY CHAD!!! MAKE THEM STOP!! THEY’RE FAGS!!” ordered Uncle Beau, to deaf ears all around. Beau’s prick remained totally erect throughout however as he observed the “reprehensible homosexual activity” going on in front of his bugged-out eyes, his prick clearly jealous that it remained un-serviced while Chad was getting it big time.

“OH YEAHH CHAD, PLEASE DO!! WE BEG YOU!!” “begged” Ron and Phil in unison, whereupon Ron began loudly licking and sniffing Chad’s erect cock and cum-churning hairy balls through the sweaty material of Chad’s sweaty jockstrap while Phil buried his face right into the sweaty, dirty-blond-haired asscrack of Chad’s smooth white bubble butt which was in total contrast to the deeply suntanned rest of the buff surfer dude’s muscular body, Phil snorfling like he was digging for truffles as he licked, sucked, sniffed and teased the entire length of Chad’s hair-lined asscrack inhaling his funky masculine sweaty essences with abandon and rimming Chad’s virgin hair-haloed hole causing Chad to moan and mewl with abandon himself at these never-before-experienced totally erotic experiences.

Soon Ron had begun to tug down the sweaty jock altogether, revealing Chad’s slightly trimmed pubes in the unfortunate fashion of today’s youth, whereupon Ron began to suck Chad’s hard cock and pendulous unshaven balls while Phil continued to rim and service the entire length of the moaning surfer dude’s entire asscrack and virgin hole, causing Chad to cry out in ecstasy as the horny dude feared the duo might bring him off too soon, so intense was their tongue-bathing of their willing surfer dude subject.

At this point, Ron and Phil then motioned Chad over to the second massage table they had rolled out earlier, going “Hey, dude, don’t cha want to make your Uncle Beau watch as we get you off while he lies there frustrated with blue balls, seeing you tied to your own massage table? We can guarantee that the bondage heightens the effect and we know you are totally open to new things unlike your Neanderthal Uncle Beau. Whattaya say?”

“I SAY – what-the-flyin’-fuck- why not???” “I wanna try out any kinky shit- WITHIN REASON!-that you horny gay guys can dish out. And, HELL yeah, what a trip to make my uptight Uncle Beau watch while I blast my load and he’s left all blue-balled and cum-denied!!! PRICELESS! Er, just be sure to get it all on cam, right? The better for me to lord it over the conservative shit, yeah?”
“Yeah for sure” lied Ron and Phil, sort of.

“DON’T LET THOSE FAGS DO IT CHAD!!! YOU’LL BE HELPLESS LIKE ME!!!” implored Uncle Beau to Chad’s deaf ears, as Beau’s own cock inexplicably (to him) remained rock hard.

Therefore, Chad soon found himself willingly tied to the second massage table as Ron and Phil expertly fondled, edged and drove the horny surfer dude wild, repeatedly bringing Chad to the very brink of orgasm before backing off entirely as Chad cursed and squirmed and thrashed in his bonds.

Chad suddenly realized that he had got himself into a situation where he had no control over what Ron and Phil had in store for him. Still, he had to admit there was something cool about being tied up like this, and the free-thinker decided to go along with whatever they had in store for him (like he had any real choice!). Chad realized he had deliberately egged on Ron and Phil so he probably deserved whatever they dished out to get even for him for flaunting his hot bod at them and all.

But Chad was not really ready when he suddenly realized Ron and Phil had particularly “evil” and semi-sadistic looks on their faces. Chad then heard Ron say “Let’s see just how much tickling our blonde surfer dude can take.” Ron smiled wide, and stared down at his tickle victim. While one hand and five scrabbling fingers tickled and teased Chad’s hairy left armpit, his other hand moved down and started lightly stroking the nipple closest to him. Chad arched his back and sucked in some air at the surprise contact with his nipples, Chad moaning with lust as he realized his nips were-hard-wired to his big dick. The reaction got noticed, causing Phil to also move one hand over to start playing with the untouched other nipple. Ron maintained light stroking on both the armpit and the nipple, while Phil was digging in a little more to his armpit, and also drawing light circles around the nipple under his control. The sensation of having four hands tickling him in four different places, all at a different level of intensity, caused Chad ‘s laughter to increase, and his back to arch up. The arching of his back made his pulsing erection even more pronounced, and quickly got the attention of his tickle tormentors. “I think Chad here likes getting tickled” Phil commented, stopping his tickling and moving his hand to lightly brush against Chad’s massive erection. “I think he likes it quite a bit. Are you enjoying yourself Chad?”

Chad just nodded (truthfully, since they had him so fuckin’ turned on, it was all “totally rad” in Chad’s mind), Chad unable to speak with the laughter flowing out of his mouth as his long blond surfer-dude hair flew wildly about from Ron’s continued tickle assault on his armpit and nipple. Ron repositioned himself about Chad’s head, and began tickling both armpits simultaneously, separating the armpit hairs and blowing his hot breath on their sensitive depths, digging in with much greater force than the light strokes that he had been using since the start of Chad’s ordeal. He alternated this with additional forays down to the surfer dude’s erect nips, tweaking them sensually and eliciting more moans and mewls from their bound victim. At the same time, Phil slowly ran one finger lightly up and down Chad’s throbbing shaft, before settling on the very tip of the blond surfer-dude’s throbbing cock and slowly drawing circles around the sensitive head of Chad’s magnificent mushroom-capped penis head, causing Chad to moan all the more combined with his wild laughter as the blond surfer dude thrust his hips wildly to friction against the delicious sensation but to no avail as the duo were careful to deny him orgasm just yet.

Ron continued tickling Chad’s armpits, while Phil started using two hands on the cock in front of him: one hand moving up and down the turgid shaft, while the other palm just made constant circles around the head of the moaning surfer-dude’s rock-hard cock. Chad was feeling a mix of intense tickling, and intense sexual stimulation, causing him to moan repeatedly in between the fits of laughter that Ron was forcing out of him. The two continued this torment for the next five minutes, until Chad was on the verge of orgasm. Just when he was getting close, Phil removed his hands from Chad’s groin, denying him the release that he had been working up to. Ron also stopped his tickling.

Phil then pulled off his white masseur shirt. Ron followed suit, and pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside, rubbing his now bare chest.

Beau who had been “forced” to continue to avidly watch, bug-eyed, as his nephew was worked over by the two “degenerate gay guys” warned “LOOK OUT CHAD!!! THOSE TWO FAGS ARE STRIPPING DOWN!! WHO KNOWS WHAT THE PERVERTS WILL DO NEXT!! OH THIS IS AWFUL!!! HELP!!!! SOMEBODY HELP!!!!!!!! WE’RE BEING ATTACKED BY FAGS!!!!!!!!” yelled Beau, Chad unable to reply between ecstatic moans and giggles. Beau’s cock remained rock hard as he watched, all caught on cam.

The now bare-chested gay duo then began digging their fingers into and between Chad’s ribs, causing the laughter to intensify. The ticklers began with a moderate pace, causing immediate laughter, and forcing Chad to start rocking his torso back in forth – taking advantage of all of the limited movement the restraints offered him. The squirming did no good. If he rocked to the right, his left ribs were more exposed to Ron. If he rocked the other way to hide his ribs from Ron’s eager hands, Phil had free reign to dig into the right side. He couldn’t win, and eventually just stayed flat as the two played his ribs like an instrument, getting slightly different pitches of laughter depending on where they tickled and how much pressure they applied. Worse as the bare-chested duo leaned in, Chad could feel the duo’s bare chests against his own naked body which Chad was surprised to realize turned him on all the more. Ron then moved down and took turns with Phil stroking the surfer dude’s rampant cock. Making a V shape with two fingers, Ron placed Chad’s cock between the two fingers, and started moving them up and down. Ron then started rotating the head around in the palm of his hand as Chad moaned and mewled with lust. Ron’s free hand moved to oh so lightly tickle and lightly pull the hairs on the surfer dude’s helplessly exposed, dangling balls and then began tickling Chad’s hair-haloed virgin asshole with a tiny artist paintbrush causing the surfer duded to shriek and squirm wildly in his bondage. Meanwhile, Phil went full force tickling Chad’s ribs, putting much of his considerable strength behind the fingers digging into the exposed flesh. Chad howled out with laughter. After ten nonstop minutes of tickling and teasing, Chad was again on the verge of orgasm when he felt Ron move his hands off his cock.

The duo checked the time only to notice that according to the security company’s records Travis Powers would soon be arriving home as well. The duo had already found Powers’ .38 revolver he kept in his house as “protection” based on NRA advisements (but which usually end up being used on their owners as was the case here).

This worked to Chad’s own benefit, since Ron and Phil needed to devote their time to preparing for Powers’ arrival. Moreover, the duo felt that they could now trust Chad to assist them in working over Travis Powers once he arrived home.

Ron therefore said “Had enough for now, Chad-baby? Learned your lesson? We think your Uncle Beau’s best friend Travis Powers may be arriving home any minute. If we free you now, will you help us work him over?”

Chad replied “Whew, yeah- you guys worked me over good, although I realize I deserved it after egging you guys on and all. But it was hot! You made me realize I actually like this kinky shit! And that Travis-Fucking-Powers is a total homophobic asshole! As bad or worse than Uncle Beau!!”

Hearing this, Uncle Beau protested “WHAT THE FUCK!!?? TRAVIS AND I ARE FINE, UPSTANDING MEMBERS OF THIS COMMUNITY!!! WE WANT TO PROTECT OUR CITIZENRY FROM FREAKS LIKE YOU THREE!! CHAD, HOW COULD YOU LET THEM DO ALL THAT SHIT TO YOU?? AND NOW YOU’RE GONNA JOIN ‘EM TO DO GOD-ONLY-KNOWS-WHAT TO ONE OF THE MOST PROMINENT MEMBERS OF OUR FAIR CITY, TRAVIS POWERS??? DON’T YOU FUCKIN’ DARE!!!!” threatened Beau, impotently, since he was in no position to stop any of them, being bound to the massage table as he was, his throbbing boner inexplicably (to him) still rock hard from observing “all this debauched decadence”.

To Beau’s further horror, not only was his naked nephew Chad Jensen then freed by the gay duo, but Ron and Phil suddenly joined him in nakedness, shedding their white masseur shorts and briefs to expose their own rampant dicks.

“FOR GOD’S SAKE- PUT ON SOME CLOTHES ALL OF YOU!! YOU’RE FUCKIN’ NEKKID– THIS IS INSANE!!!” roared Beau to deaf ears.

To Beau’s even greater horror, Ron and Phil suddenly then forced the eminent Beauregard Tutwiler at the point of his fellow NRA-member-bud Travis Powers’ own gun to suck both Ron’s and Phil’s cocks simultaneously as Chad cackled with laughter as his protesting, gurgling homophobic uncle was caught on the cams as well as now Chad’s own cell phone as the uptight homophobic Country-Clubber struggled in vain to accommodate the two gay guys’ huge cocks, Beau’s eyes crossed in horror, until each each blew a load in his face as Beau howled in disgust, to the trio’s amusement and hoots of laughter.

CONTINUE THE STORY:
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1 Comment

  1. Avatar of adrk

    adrk - June 17, 2016, 6:53 am

    so awesome a writer of erotic stories i love your mind richard !

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