Revenge Is Sweet
by Richard

Matt Bradshaw was eagerly looking forward to enjoying his four-day weekend. The 26-year-old up-and coming brash young executive had earned this time off, in his own typically arrogant opinion. Yeah, Matt mused, he fuckin' worked his ass off as an investment banker downtown in one of the most prestigious firms; he had fuckin' earned it, already clawing his way to near the top on his profession, never caring whom he stomped on to get what he wanted. Matt also attributed his success to the brief time he was an officer in the U.S. Air Force.

Matt now openly admired his reflection as he toned up his studly body at his exclusive health club. While he rode the exercise bicycle, he not only admired his own reflection in the mirrored walls of the tony health club but simultaneously cruised the female aerobic dance class taking place, leering at the scantily clad sweating babes, and making lewd comments to a few of his ex-fraternity brothers who were riding other exercise bikes nearby.

Matt secretly checked out his own reflection as he sweated profusely, admiring his sun-bronzed muscular arms that had recently been pumped up to perfection by working out on the free weights. Matt wiped the sweat that had escaped from his designer sweatband with the back of his hairy forearm, revealing one of his darkly sweaty armpits in the process. Matt liked the way the sweat trailed down from his dark, close-cropped salon-cut hair onto his movie-star handsome sun-bronzed face, and down the dark curly hairs on his sun-bronzed chest to sexily stain his light green tank top tee shirt. His tank top was also liberally doused with the sweat from his incredibly hairy armpits. Matt further admired his trendy, day-old beard growth that only added to his darkly handsome, masculine features. Matt loved the way his chest hair fanned out over his chest, and then narrowed to line that flared out into his magnificent pubes and hairy balls. Matt's cock lurched a little in his sweat-soaked jock strap under his black bicycle-type spandex shorts and red Nike gym shorts as he admired his own 6' 3" body as well as the bouncing, bending aerobics babes.

Before working out at his gym, Matt had enjoyed himself lording it over a group of teenage prep school kids he coached, ostensibly as a volunteer, but in reality to advance himself at his firm, since one of the preppies was the son of one of the partners at his investment banking firm. Matt loved to blow his coach's whistle and verbally humiliate the preppies, except, of course, the son of the partner at his firm, whom he did his best to impress so as to get in the good graces of his "old man". Matt also delighted in physical abuse as well, often making the young teenage players run laps bare-assed naked in public in front of their classmates if they got out of line, preferably in front of their own girlfriends, while Matt and the others laughed and hooted in glee at their public humiliation.

Matt loved being "in control" at all times, whether it was lording it over his preppy charges as their coach, or in the bedroom where he loved to dominate his girlfriends, especially relishing tying them up against their will and bullying them to satisfy his every sexual demand, often getting what he wanted by threatening to rough them up, and/or teasing and tickling them till they did what he wanted. Matt had acquired a good many bondage devices to enable him to bully his dates into servicing his hunky body.

Matt finished up his workout, working on his sun-bronzed muscular legs that were also moderately hairy, and padded off to the men's locker room to shower and change. Matt peeled off his sweat-soaked tank top tee shirt, and, as he began to peel down the top of his gymshorts, bicycle shorts and jockstrap all in one go, he noticed some dude eyeing his magnificent body while pretending to blow his nose while he secretly watched Matt strip as reflected in one of the mirrors. Matt pointedly wrapped his towel around his waist and completed stripping under the cover of the towel, then carefully placed his sweaty gym gear in his gym bag and locked his locker before heading for the showers. Matt had never got over the one time he left his sweaty gym stuff on the floor near his locker while he showered-some fuckin' faggot sniff freak stole his stuff! Nothing made Matt's blood boil more than a fuckin' faggot! Matt regularly "bashed fags" for weekend entertainment during his college years, joined by his snobby fraternity brothers, which he felt was what the degenerates deserved.

The arrogant Mr. Bradshaw showered and changed back into his Armani business suit, designer shirt and tie and headed for the health club parking lot.

Matt Bradshaw drove off in his shiny new BMW convertible heading for his recently purchased home, a close-in-to-the city-yet-secluded young executive home. Matt loved the privacy he had, with no near neighbors and even a bit of a city view, and it was in an exclusive area, a very impressive and fitting address for the up-and-coming young investment banker.

As Matt turned the key to his front door he became aware of muffled noises from inside. Matt couldn't fuckin' believe it! Some fuckin' burglar was in his exclusive home messing with his yuppie toys! Matt was so incensed by the invasion of his home that he did not take into account whether the burglar might be armed. Matt burst into his own open-beamed ceilinged living room, and was relieved to see that the "burglar" was only a 5' 10" young kid about 18-20 years old with only a slim, wiry build, and he did not appear to be armed. Matt was furious to see that the burglar had found several valuable items that were laid out on the living room floor, including Matt's state-of-the-art video camera.

Matt threw his gym bag onto the floor of the living room, and then easily jumped the younger, smaller guy, wrestling him to the floor. While he held the young, blond-haired kid with one hand, he thoroughly searched the pockets of the kid's jeans, finding no weapon. The young punk was obviously at the mercy of the business-suited Matt Bradshaw.

Matt relished his having caught this young punk burglar red-handed and was determined to teach the little punk a lesson he would never forget. Bradshaw boastfully told the little punk just whom he was dealing with-"the one and only Matt Bradshaw, a name you should remember, I'm your worst fuckin' nightmare, punk!" Matt blocked the thief's exit with his hunky body, while Matt reached to phone for the police. Matt mockingly asked the little shit what his name was so he could tell the police, and the dumb shit was obviously so petrified as a result of the whole matter that he answered Matt that he was "R-rr-yan Chapman". Matt mocked Ryan's nervous stutter and said "Well, R-rr-yan, your fuckin' ass is going to fuckin' jail, shithead!" as he started to punch 911 into the phone.

Ryan begged Matt not to call the police, that he was sorry, that he would do anything to avoid jail. The ever-calculating and bullying Matt's mind began to churn over the possibilities here. If he did call the cops, they probably wouldn't do anything serious to the little shit, nothing to make him learn his fuckin' lesson. The great Matt Bradshaw, however, was ever-confident that he himself, ex-Pledgemaster of his snobby fraternity and now the coach of a team of preppy brats, was just the man to put this little shit criminal in his fuckin' place.

With that in mind, Matt changed tack and hung up the phone, announcing that "Yeah you fuckin little criminal-I won't phone the cops as long as you take your punishment from me like a man- ca-peesh?" Ryan nodded his head like crazy, frightened of the older, stronger, business-suited man.

Matt then announced that "Yeah, you think you're such a big shot, stealing other people's stuff, let's see how you like it, if, say, I decide that I want your fuckin' tee-shirt, huh, dude?" whereupon Matt pounced on the shocked Ryan, and suddenly grabbed Ryan's tee shirt and yanked it up over his head and off his body, revealing his sun-bronzed hairless chest and revealing a flash of Ryan's dirty-blond-haired armpits.

"Or what if I said, I want your fuckin' pants, asshole? Huh?" whereupon Matt proceeded to suddenly pounce on the shocked Ryan, Matt easily unhooking the waistband of the smaller guy's jeans, and before Ryan could squeak out anything other than a shocked "Hey, what the fuck are you do-ing, dude?" Matt had Ryan's jeans halfway down his lightly blond-furred sun-bronzed legs. Matt then proceeded to yank off Ryan's sneakers and socks and suddenly yank and rip-strip Ryan's white jockey shorts right off his mortified body, yanking Ryan's legs into the air briefly revealing his snow-white ass and lightly-haired asscrack and asshole, until Matt had totally divested the young punk burglar of all of his clothing, leaving him panting bareass naked on Matt Bradshaw's living room floor! Bradshaw even rubbed Ryan's face into his own shredded jockeys, forcing him to smell them and laughing uproariously.

Matt then grabbed the remains of Ryan's clothing and pointedly threw them into a file cabinet drawer, which he promptly locked with a key, announcing to Ryan that "Not such a fuckin' hot shot now, are you, Ryan, fuckin' bareassed burglar won't be running off anywhere now, not until he earns his fuckin' clothes back from me, eh?" Matt hooted with laughter and pointed at the hapless, blushing Ryan who stood on Bradshaw's living room floor utterly bareassed naked, vainly attempting to cover his exposed cock and balls.

Confident that his captive was not about to flee now that he had been completely stripped, Matt first plopped a fresh video tape into the video recorder and set it up to record Ryan's humiliation. Matt then made a brief detour to his bedroom to get some useful "tools" from his Pledgemaster days as well as a few bondage devices he used on his girlfriends in the past.

Before Ryan knew what was happening, the business-suited Bradshaw had wrestled him to the floor once again, flipping Ryan over onto his bare stomach on the floor while the business-suited Bradshaw straddled his bare back and proceeded to spank Ryan's bare ass with a frat paddle he had obtained from the bedroom. In no time, Ryan's bare ass was flaming fire-engine red and stinging, and Ryan was crying and begging for mercy, to no avail. Matt made fun of the weak Ryan, laughing and telling him this is the punishment fuckin' criminals got, to take it like a fuckin' man, etc.

Matt then flipped Ryan over onto his flaming red backside and straddled his bare stomach, inadvertently flicking his fingers along the area of Ryan's bare sides and waist, causing Ryan to yelp and giggle uncontrollably. Matt couldn't believe his luck-the fuckin little shit was easily as ticklish as most of Matt's girlfriends...what a way to teach the little shit a further lesson! Matt had found that method useful when he was Pledgemaster as well- it never ceased to amaze Matt that some guys were actually ticklish. Matt, of course, considered ticklishness to be unmanly, so he thanked God that he had overcome his secret weakness after having to take an interrogation resistance course during his stint as an Air Force officer. The secret was to concentrate on each area of the body in turn as the would-be interrogator tried to stimulate the nerve endings. So long as you could hold off laughing and concentrate, the would-be interrogator would conclude that the "victim" was not ticklish and give up. Ryan obviously had never had the benefit of such a course.

Realizing that Matt actually intended to tickle-torture him, Ryan began screaming and begging like a madman and bucking away with surprising strength to try to throw the business-suited Bradshaw off of him. Matt simply began to remove his own silk necktie which he suddenly used to expertly bind Ryan's arms way over his head as he struggled on the floor of the living room, revealing the sweaty depths of Ryan's dirty-blond-haired armpits. Since Ryan was bucking and trying to kick at Bradshaw, Matt used a metal leg-spreader device he used on his uncooperative girlfriends, Matt setting the rigid leg-spreader device wide, so that Ryan's bare feet were effectively trapped. Matt couldn't help musing about other uses that device could be put to...the spreader bar had two interior restraints for a victim-girlfriend's arms, so that if her legs were in the outer restraints and her arms were in the inner restraints, the victim-girlfriend could be easily flipped over and fucked doggy-style or flipped again and fucked on her back with her legs in the air- brilliant device!

Matt then proceeded to tickle-torture the screaming, begging Ryan, running his fingers into Ryan's helplessly exposed hairy armpits, down his ticklish sides, over his erect tits, then reversing his position and tickling down to Ryan's exposed, spreader-barred feet, tickling his soles and each of his wiggling toes until Ryan was squealing, giggling, and screeching like a banshee as Ryan bucked wildly and gave the business-suited Bradshaw the ride of his life.

Matt was shocked to notice that Ryan's cock had gone rock-hard from all of the stimulation of his body, all the more so when Matt proceeded to tickle-torture Ryan with toothbrushes, feathers and then ice cubes all over his exposed flesh as Ryan went ballistic yet again, begging for mercy while Bradshaw laughed uproariously and mocked the petrified Ryan.

Matt called Ryan a "fuckin' faggot homo! Look, you're fuckin' rock hard, you ticklish little girl! What a fuckin pansy...you like getting worked over by a hunky guy, eh! What a pathetic wuss!"

Although he would never admit, Matt had to admit that his own cock was twitching a little in his packed Calvins, from the sheer power of having total control over the little punk criminal and teaching him a fuckin lesson he'd never forget.

In fact, had Ryan been able to catch his breath enough to say so, he could have informed straight-arrow Matt that, "yeah, I am gay, you fuckin' Neanderthal moron," but Matt was to arrive at that inescapable conclusion very soon.

As Matt proceeded to renew the tickle torture, he was shocked to suddenly hear a harsh voice suddenly order "Fuckin freeze unless you want your fuckin' balls blown off!"

Matt turned from his position straddling the naked Ryan to see a 6' 2" Italian-looking dude about 23 years old and built as solidly as Matt pointing a gun right at Matt's head. The hulking, dark figure was clad in black jeans and a black tee shirt rolled up over formidable olive-skinned tattooed biceps. Ryan took one look and said "Hey Vincent Di Roma, you took your sweet time!"

About the time Matt had digested that there were in fact two burglars in his house and that this older, stronger, armed one had been laying low waiting to strike, he heard Vince Di Roma suddenly order him off of Ryan and to put his hands over his head, now! Bradshaw looked over to Vince who steadily held the gun on him, Matt noticing the manly growth of black hair sprouting under Vince's arm which held the gun on him, which somehow emphasized the power and strength of his formidable opponent.

Matt reluctantly complied, slowly easing himself up off of the naked, bound Ryan. Vince, pointing the gun at business-suited Bradshaw all the while, released Ryan from his silk-tie and leg-spreader bondage, while commenting on the fact that Bradshaw had broken a sweat while working over Ryan, noting to Matt's embarrassment that large sweat spots had developed under the armpits of Matt's expensive designer shirt.

Ryan promptly egged on his friend Vince, urging Vince with a sadistic gleam in his eye to "Yeah, c'mon, Vince, let's make the fucker strip just like he did to me!!"

Matt, mortified, called upon all of his training as a U.S. Air Force officer and the natural cunning of a true survivor, and suddenly went all fake remorseful, apologizing for what he had done to Vince's fellow burglar, Ryan, promising not to call the cops, and offering to just let the two burglars take what they had found and just go. Matt pointed out that he was a rich man and that the two burglars could name their price.

Unfortunately for Bradshaw, all this fell on deaf ears, as Vince and Ryan again both "named their price" by ordering the high and mighty Matt Bradshaw to "Fuckin' strip, now!" at gunpoint. Matt nonetheless persisted in trying to persuade them not to make such ridiculous demands, that Bradshaw was a prominent investment banker with major connections downtown, that the powerful, business-suited Bradshaw would see to it that both of them would pay dearly for even suggesting such a thing and that they should get their sorry asses out of his fuckin' house, NOW!

Vince and Ryan's answer to this was to physically charge the surprised Matt Bradshaw, Vince grabbing the arms of Bradshaw's designer shirt over his head with surprising strength, while urging a vengeful Ryan to "Yeah, c'mon let's pants this motherfucker out of his fancy Armani pants!"

To Bradshaw's utter horror, Ryan gleefully was able to unhitch Matt's alligator belt and Armani suit pants. The powerfully built Bradshaw was able to temporarily free his left arm from Vince's vise-like grip, but he was just an instant too late, as Ryan eagerly slid the elegant silk-like wool material down Bradshaw's sun-bronzed, muscular, hairy legs, revealing Bradshaw's packed, snow-white Calvin Klein briefs. Ryan managed to simultaneously divest the arrogant Bradshaw of his Gucci loafers and executive socks as well. Bradshaw howled in outrage at all this, noting that those "were Armani suit pants for God's sake, and what the fuck are you faggots doing?" (not yet realizing that in fact both of his attackers were in fact gay).

Despite Bradshaw's flailing left arm, Ryan was also able to suddenly rip-strip Bradshaw's white Calvins right off his hunky body, Bradshaw again howling in outrage as his sinewy left hand again just missed preserving his dignity. Ryan stripped Bradshaw's ruined whitie-tighties right off his elegant size-12 bare feet, only to toss them right into his face where Vince rubbed same into Bradshaw's horrified face. Bradshaw's legs were gleefully yanked into the air, briefly revealing his dark-hair-flecked, but otherwise snow-white ass, and his dark-haired asscrack and virgin asshole.

Bradshaw was now reduced to being clad in only his designer shirt. Vince and Ryan took delight in physically rolling the half-naked Bradshaw around on the living room floor, spanking his bare, lightly-hair flecked white-pink ass which was in total contrast to the rest of his hunky sun-bronzed body, and even getting in a few cracks with Bradshaw's own fraternity pledge paddle, Vince and Ryan hooting and laughing at the pompous young executive's embarrassment and humiliation. To add insult to injury, Vince and Ryan pointed out that the video camera had been catching all of this and whatever was yet to come. Bradshaw arrogantly ordered them to "turn that fuckin' thing off! I'm practically naked, you assholes!"

In no time, Vince and Ryan had managed to divest the hunky Matt Bradshaw of his designer shirt as well, revealing his sun-bronzed , buff torso, thick dark hair fanning across his heaving muscular chest and tits to travel down over his laddered abdominals, before fanning out luxuriantly over Bradshaw's big cock and hairy balls.

The all-powerful Matt Bradshaw was now totally bareass naked before Vince and Ryan, blushing and attempting to hide his embarrassing nudity from the gaze of the two low-class burglars.

Vince then went over to Bradshaw's discarded gymbag, where he extracted Bradshaw's sweaty used gym gear, including his sweat-soaked jockstrap and his coach's whistle. Vince and Ryan forced the sweat-soaked jockstrap right into Bradshaw's horrified face where it was secured with its own leggings to his horrified mouth. Vince and Ryan asked him how he liked the smell of his own fuckin' crotch, as the horrified Matt huffed and puffed and cursed the "fuckin' faggots" (he still didn't know how right he was). Vince and Ryan further placed a handy blindfold over Bradshaw's baby blues so that he would have no way to anticipate what was going to happen to him from now on.

Acting on a flash of inspiration, Vince had soon ordered the naked, blindfolded Matt Bradshaw at gunpoint onto his knees and into his own metal leg-separator bar, and then ordered him to reach back and place his sun-bronzed muscular arms into the interior restraints so that Vince and Ryan now had a tantalizing view of the denuded hot shot Bradshaw, bound on his knees with his face forced into the living room carpet, his arms forced back behind him, Bradshaw's bare, hunky, hair-flecked ass and its deeply dark-haired asscrack and winking hairy virgin asshole totally revealed. If only the great Matt Bradshaw's girlfriends could see him now-finally getting his much-deserved comeuppance in the very device Bradshaw had so often used on them. Oh well, Vince and Ryan would have the videotape--they'd have to make a point to check out Bradshaw's little black book and mail each victimized girlfriend a copy of the video! And maybe some of the prep school athletes Bradshaw humiliated while coaching them would also appreciate a collector's edition video!

Bradshaw promptly delivered a string of curses at Vince and Ryan, which were quite distinct considering the fact that the pompous Bradshaw had to sputter his futile curses into his own sweaty jockstrap, which was still firmly in place over his mouth, his own stray pubic hairs and jock sweat now coating his patrician tongue for his effort! The clarity of the obscenities was all the more remarkable considering the fact that his handsome face was also being forced into the carpet due to Bradshaw's spreader-bar bondage.

This only served to prompt Vince and Ryan to laugh uproariously and point at the struggling, bareassed executive, blindfolded with his pompous ass high in the air, his own sweaty, piss-stained jockstrap forced over his big braying mouth! Vince and Ryan then contented themselves by continuing to verbally abuse the hotshot fag-bashing executive. While silently positioning Bradshaw's own frat paddle on the floor next to his upturned ass, Vince and Ryan telepathically communicated to each other that instead of beginning the festivities with a much-deserved painful spanking on Bradshaw's upturned ass, they would instead start out with a totally unexpected, slow and sensuous approach, the better to set off alarm bells in Bradshaw's hyper-macho brain.

The still naked Ryan approached the spreader-bar-bound Bradshaw, suddenly straddling Bradshaw's smooth, bare sun-bronzed back, so that he could bend over and caress Bradshaw's bare assglobes, relishing the feel of the bound executive's smooth, sweaty back on Ryan's own bare ass, Ryan sliding his own ass, which was still red hot from Bradshaw's spanking of it, up and down Bradshaw's muscular back while Ryan simultaneously bent over and massaged the muscular flesh of Bradshaw's hopelessly exposed ass.

Meanwhile, the still fully clothed Vince joined in, kneeling on the carpet behind Bradshaw's upturned ass and also massaging and further separating the young executive's butt, further exposing his dark-haired asscrack and totally revealing Bradshaw's most closely guarded orifice, his hair-haloed pink asshole which was now winking at the entire world thanks to the technology of Bradshaw's own video camera whirring away.

Bradshaw erupted in another stream of curses through his jockstrap-gag telling the "fucking faggots" to get the fuck off him what were they fucking doing what were they, some kind of faggots or something?

Vince and Ryan chose that moment to reveal to the horrified Bradshaw that "Yeah they were fuckin' faggots" and that Bradshaw "would find out soon enough when they fucked Bradshaw's ass!"

Totally mortified at this revelation, Bradshaw broke into an immediate bull-sweat, cursing and bucking around in his bondage, threatening to kill the "fuckin homo bastard degenerates!," to no avail, as Vince and Ryan simply continued their sensuous massage of Bradshaw's upturned, vulnerable, totally exposed ass.

Vince and Ryan made hooting comments at Bradshaw's predicament, how exposed and vulnerable the big bully-boy was, and then proceeded to blow their hot breath over Bradshaw's ass, through his hairy asscrack and then right into his exposed, spread wide, virgin asshole, Vince blowing hot breath over Bradshaw's dangling, hairy balls as well.

Bradshaw was totally shocked at this unwanted intimacy with his most private orifice, yet the attention was unsettling-Bradshaw was a horny bastard and his mercenary brain was telling him that this felt good.

Bradshaw nearly jumped out of his skin when Vince devilishly reached up and grabbed Bradshaw's big cock and gave it a light jerking, Bradshaw's mercenary cock expanding with blood and going almost instantly half-hard, prompting Vince and Ryan to laugh and point and ask Bradshaw "who's the faggot now, Bradshaw, you getting your executive rocks off on being felt up by a couple of faggot degenerates, huh?"

Bradshaw replied with another stream of curses and orders to get their faggot hand off of him this instant, but his arousal was all too evident, despite all his protests to the contrary.

Vince winked at Ryan as he reached into Bradshaw's gym bag in search of more goodies, only to extract Bradshaw's coach's whistle, which had been arrogantly used that afternoon during practice, its shrill staccato blasts signaling Bradshaw's latest chewing out of one of his prep school athlete charges. Vince also located Bradshaw's light green tank-top tee shirt, whose underarm area was still damp with the young executive's sweat from his recent gym workout.

Vince and Ryan took liberal sniffs of the latter, laughing as they then forced the sweaty armpit area of the tee shirt right under Bradshaw's nose as it pressed against the carpet, forcing him to inhale his own executive BO from his workout and laughing as Matt scrunched up his handsome nose at being forced to learn that his patrician sweat stunk to high heaven. Vince then extracted Bradshaw's tight black spandex bicycle type shorts, the crack and seat of which were also liberally sweat-stained, and after sharing a hit of the musky smell of this item with Ryan, also forced it under Bradshaw's arrogant nose and forced him to inhale the musky sweat stench of the seat of his own bicycle shorts, then left both the tee shirt and the shorts crammed under Bradshaw's nose as it was forced into the carpet by the position of his bondage.

Vince then proceeded to dangle Bradshaw's coach's whistle over the hairy crack of his ass, only to let it slide its icy cold metallic self down Bradshaw's exposed asscrack while Ryan continued to straddle Matt's back and spread his asscheeks for Vince. Bradshaw jumped wildly at the unexpected cold contact of the whistle, Bradshaw's wide-open asscrack being simultaneously goosed by the nylon cords that were attached to the whistle. Worse, the metallic attachment which connected the whistle to its nylon neck-cord kept catching stray hairs on Bradshaw's asscrack as the whistle made it sensuous descent toward Bradshaw's totally exposed virgin asshole, forcing Bradshaw to yelp in pain while he simultaneously felt incredible unbidden pleasure from the cold whistle goosing him all the way down.

Bradshaw yelped and sighed into his jockstrap-stuffed mouth as the cold metallic whistle made direct contact with his wide-open hair-haloed virgin asshole, only to gasp in horror and take deep breaths of his own sweaty tee shirt and bicycle shorts as the damned whistle suddenly descended even lower, below his asshole and then over and onto his dangling, hairy bull-balls. Again, the fucking whistle and its metallic attachment caught on Bradshaw's profuse pubic hairs, yanking some out as the whistle made its tickling way over the backs of Bradshaw's bad-boy balls.

All this combined to give Bradshaw a full-fledged hard-on, which was laughingly noted by Vince and Ryan, Vince against sensuously and lightly jacking Bradshaw's growing boner.

Inspired by the success of the whistle, Vince then proceeded to do the same with the cold steel barrel of the gun. Vince had removed the bullets from the gun to be safe, but the blindfolded Bradshaw did not know this, and was scared shitless when he felt the cold steel barrel of the gun goosing his asscrack, wide-open asshole and his hairy balls. The gun further caught on the hair in Bradshaw's asscrack and balls, yanking stray hairs out. Vince and Ryan laughed as Bradshaw begged them not to shoot his balls off, that he would do anything, just please don't kill him or de-ball him, puh-leeze!, all to the burglars' amusement.

Vince then abandoned the gun-goosing and instead sensuously massaged his way down the length of Bradshaw's spreader-bar-bound hairy, sun-bronzed legs while Ryan took over with more whistle-teasing from above. Vince then experimented with an unexpected tickling of Bradshaw's exposed feet, eliciting a surprised yelp and wild foot-jerkings by the bound young executive. Vince sarcastically inquired "Didn't Bradshaw try to fuckin' tickle you Ryan?" producing vehement denials through Bradshaw's jockstrap-gag, to the effect that they would be wasting their time, that Bradshaw was not ticklish, that he even had had elite, anti-interrogation training while in the Air Force, so forget it. (Bradshaw's jockstrap-gag had now worked its way up off of his mouth and more over his nose, due to his face being squashed into the carpet by the position of his bondage.)

Vince and Ryan merely exchanged knowing "we'll just see about that" looks and continued with their sensual teasing of the bound Bradshaw-plenty of time for tickling shit when they got Bradshaw in a better position.

Vince and Ryan then switched tacks, and proceeded to suddenly put the frat paddle to good use, spanking the arrogant Bradshaw's bare upturned ass with the frat paddle and their hands, until Bradshaw's upturned backside was flaming fire engine red and itching and burning. Vince and Ryan punctuated the blows with verbal shaming of their victim, who continued to thrash and curse and threaten, to no avail. Ryan eagerly leaned down from his position straddling Bradshaw's bare back, deliberately pinching and squeezing Bradshaw's fire-engine-red ass, yanking stray hairs which sparsely grew on Bradshaw's ass, yanking the hairs right off of his red assglobes, to Bradshaw's accompanying yelps of astonishment and outrage.

Vince then rigged up some rope over one of the exposed heavy wood beams in Bradshaw's living room, deftly attaching some leather cuffs to the ropes. Vince and Ryan then proceeded to free Bradshaw's arms from the spreader bar, leaving his ankles bound in place in the outer restraints of the spreader bar.

Vince and Ryan were easily able to manhandle and move the startled, still blindfolded Bradshaw over to the dangling ropes and leather cuffs, whereupon, aided by a cold thrust of the steel barrel of the gun into Bradshaw's bare back, Bradshaw was soon bound with his hands high above his head, dangling from his own beamed living room ceiling, his ankles firmly encased in the metal spreader bar, his size-12 feet barely touching the floor, and his half-hard cock embarrassingly prominent.

Ryan kicked an leather-covered ottoman over to the area in front of where Bradshaw's nude, hunky body was suspended, which perfectly compensated for Ryan's shorter stature, such that Ryan's bare crotch was level with Bradshaw's, and Ryan's torso was now perfectly in line with Bradshaw's hairy chest.

Meanwhile, Vince silently removed his own clothes, reasoning that Bradshaw was blindfolded and could not see Vince's otherwise embarrassing nudity, Vince stripping off his black tee shirt revealing his own moderately hairy chest and sun-bronzed musculature, and then his jeans and Calvins, revealing his lush dark pubes, throbbing boner, and big hairy balls.

The blindfolded, suspended Bradshaw was then suddenly startled to feel the naked Ryan rubbing the entire length of his body against the entire length of the front of Bradshaw's hunky, denuded body, Ryan deliberately rubbing his boner and hairy balls against Bradshaw's still half-hard cock and horny balls, while the now naked Vince did likewise, rubbing the entire length of the front of his body against the entire length of Bradshaw's sunbronzed back, hunky asscheeks and hairy legs, Vince relishing the feel of his hard cock sliding through Bradshaw's hairy, sweaty virgin asscrack, causing Bradshaw to erupt with another string of curses at the "goddamned faggots! Let me go, you fucking sickos" again to the delight of Ryan and Vince.

Worse, the sensuous frottage of Bradshaw's front and back was making him secretly as horny as hell, which could no longer be denied since Matt Bradshaw's giant pecker was now throbbing with lust as he felt Ryan rub his own hard cock against Bradshaw's while Ryan rubbed his tits against Bradshaw's own hairy man-tits, while Vince simultaneously rubbed his own naked hairy body against the back of Bradshaw's, sliding his own hard cock right through Bradshaw's private, normally-guarded, hairy asscrack and hunky "still-red-hot-from-spanking" buttcheeks.

To add insult to injury, Vince and Ryan took turns reaching up and under Bradshaw's sweaty, thickly-haired armpits, tickling lightly and then more forcefully, yanking on his dripping armpit hairs and pulling some out while they mercilessly tickled and licked out the sweat from Bradshaw's exposed vulnerable pits, alternately teasing, licking, tickling and nibbling on Bradshaw's erect hairy man-tits as well. Ryan and Vince also delighted in simultaneously running their tickling fingers down Bradshaw's helplessly exposed sides, ribs, stomach and laddered abdominals, Ryan even cleaning the lint out of Bradshaw's hairy "inny" navel with his hot wet tongue.

Bradshaw went ballistic at this treatment ordering the "psychos" to "fucking stop this at once, that he was not ticklish," Bradshaw bravely gritting his teeth and trying to concentrate like he was trained to do in the military anti-interrogation exercises. Unfortunately, during those military training exercises, the "victims" were only stripped to their white cotton tee shirts and jockey shorts, and they were not blindfolded. Bradshaw was finding it unsettling to say the least to be blindfolded and unable to see where teasing fingers, lips or other instruments of tickle torture were going next! How the fuck was he supposed to concentrate if he could not see, and he was fucking balls-ass naked in front of these fucking fiends!

While Vince continued his frottage and dry-humping of Bradshaw's bad-boy ass as well as his armpit, tit and torso tickling of Bradshaw, Ryan suddenly began sucking on Bradshaw's rock-hard cock and hairy balls, both Ryan and Vince deriding Bradshaw for getting a boner with "no girls around, hmm maybe you're not as straight as you think you are, Bradshaw! Be sure to smile for the camera, dude!"

While Ryan sucked Bradshaw's cock and teased his hairy balls, Vince and Ryan not only continued reaching up and tickling his armpits and torso, but also Vince suddenly buried his handsome face right into Bradshaw's hairy virgin asscrack and over his still red hot asscheeks using his wet, hot taster to drive Bradshaw up the proverbial wall. Vince spread Bradshaw's bad-boy buttcheeks and chomped down, slurping his tongue over Bradshaw's musky crack then over and into Bradshaw's exposed, hair-haloed virgin asshole, Vince also again slapping and spanking those deserving buttcheeks while he slid his tongue right up Bradshaw's virgin asshole.

Vince and Ryan continued this treatment for several minutes, Ryan sucking Bradshaw's cock for all he was worth, again and again driving Bradshaw to the brink of orgasm, only to deny the arrogant Bradshaw any sexual relief. Vince and Ryan would temporarily abandon their cock-sucking and ass-rimming to instead simultaneously tongue-bathe the entire length of the front and back of Bradshaw's suspended body, Bradshaw able to do little other than to alternately curse them and ooo and ahhh at the feeling of his body being hyper-sexually stimulated.

Ryan thoroughly tongue-bathed each of Bradshaw's hairy pits, savoring their musky manly scent, then tongued up and over Bradshaw's handsome face, forcing Bradshaw at gun-point to open his mouth while Ryan thoroughly tongue-kissed Bradshaw with the smell and taste of the arrogant dude's own pits, Ryan rubbing his nose onto Bradshaw's still jock-encased nose, then all over Bradshaw's handsome face, sliding his tongue into each ear and blowing into them with hot breath, telling Bradshaw "Yeahh, you're fuckin' loving being devoured by two hunky men, don't you bad-boy? I can feel your boner throbbing against mine all the while yeahh it feels so gooood, doesn't it dude?" The out-of-it Bradshaw could only growl out a feeble, token protest at this point.

Bradshaw was reduced to plaintive, sex-starved mewls of lust as Ryan then delved down to devour Bradshaw's hairy chest tickling nibbling, and tweaking Bradshaw's pink-eraser-tipped erect tits each in turn, then trailing his taster down and over Bradshaw's hairy laddered abdominals, tonguing out his hair-haloed navel while simultaneously tickling his vulnerable sides and ribs. Ryan merely blew his hot breath on Bradshaw's straining-for-a release-which -was- to- be-denied throbbing cock as he tongued his way down the length of Bradshaw's sun-bronzed, muscular, hairy legs, down to his spreader-bar-encased bare feet.

Meanwhile, Vince was leaving snail-trails of his own hot saliva all over Bradshaw's sun-bronzed muscular back, starting by nibbling on Bradshaw's sensitive earlobes, then over his sun-bronzed bull neck, then down to his massive outstretched sun-bronzed shoulders, Vince sinking his teeth into each of these as he licked and nibbled his way down Bradshaw's straight-arrow spine, nibbling and biting Bradshaw's still-red-hot-from-spanking asscheeks, then sliding his taster down the backs of Bradshaw's spread, hairy thighs and calve only to join Ryan in now licking and tickling each of Bradshaw's spreader-bar-encased bare feet, sliding fingers and tongues up and down his sensitive soles, spreading his toes and sucking on them each in turn.

Bradshaw again concentrated on not allowing himself to break, gritting his teeth with military resolve not to allow himself to laugh or let on that this was driving him out of his skin. Worse, it all seemed to make his unsatisfied boner throb all the more in unfulfilled lust. Bradshaw managed to get by for the time being by allowing himself a few manly (he hoped) gasps and exhalations and a stifled shriek or two, somehow managing not break into embarrassing giggles. Bradshaw told himself he had fooled the two homos, who relented in their tickle-torture/foot-licking.

Instead, Ryan and Vince returned to their cock-and-ball sucking and ass-rimming of Bradshaw, again driving Bradshaw again and again to the brink of orgasm, only to back off at the critical moment and laugh as Bradshaw's boner throbbed with insistent, but unfulfilled desire. They delighted in hearing Bradshaw confidently announce that "I'm doing it you fuckin' faggots you're making me shoot my big load yeah, here it comes, any second now, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh..." whereupon Vince and Ryan suddenly backed off and Ryan would firmly grasp Bradshaw's on-the-verge-of-orgasm cock, denying the big bully his much-needed orgasm. Vince and Ryan then fell over laughing and pounding the floor when this was followed by streams of curses as Bradshaw realized he had been denied his pleasure yet again, Bradshaw arrogantly ordering them to "finish him off, goddamnit!" Bradshaw was clearly used to masturbating himself inside a succession of "babes" whether they were willing or unwilling, and was certainly not used to being denied the release of his bully-boy nut-oysters.

Tiring of this position, Vince and Ryan decided to release Bradshaw at gunpoint, leading him into his own master bedroom and ordering him at gunpoint onto his back on his own massive four-poster bed, securely spread-eagling him onto his own mattress, his ankles and wrists secured to each bedpost.

At a cue from Ryan, Vince was instructed by Ryan to begin tickling the blindfolded Matt Bradshaw's feet.

Matt Bradshaw informed them that it was no good, that he was not ticklish, but before he knew it, Ryan began to tickle Matt Bradshaw's hairy armpits simultaneously, and Matt Bradshaw suddenly began to make sounds like "Heh-heh-heh. Cut it out!...heh-heh-heh-heh!"

"Oh, no! HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH! HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAAAAAH!"

Ryan then sadistically noted, "Ah-hah! I knew we'd find a weak spot somewhere on your tied-up vulnerable body, kitchie-kitchie-kitchie-koo!"

Matt Bradshaw replied, "No! Stop! HAH-HAH-HAH! STOP! CUT IT OUT! NO

MORE! NOT THE FEET! NOT THE PITS! STOP!! HAH-HAH-HAH! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!"

Matt Bradshaw further threatened to "I'm gonna kill you two faggots! I'm gonna break these bonds and then I'm gonna...I'm gonna...HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!! COME ON!! LET ME GO!!

Ryan couldn't help but to rub it in and ask "How does that feel, huh, Bradshaw?? How does it feel to be tied down and tickled when there isn't a thing in the world you can do to stop it??

Bradshaw replied "ALL RIGHT!! TIME OUT!!! LET ME CATCH MY BREATH!! HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!!!!"

Bradshaw further gasped, "Oh, shit, you guys, I can't take anymore,

PLEASE STOP!!!"

Ryan noted to his delight that "Well, well, well, what have we here??" as he further humiliated the bound stud by pointing out that Matt Bradshaw had again developed a rock-hard hardon in response to the efforts of Vince and Ryan!

While Matt Bradshaw continued to suffer these latest humiliations, Ryan produced two tapering feathers one for himself and one for Vince, the tips of the feathers now beginning to brush against the naked investment banker's vulnerable ribs and the insides of his creamy thighs, respectively.

Matt Bradshaw spasmed as if jolted by shots of electricity as Vince and Ryan now directed their feathers on either side of their prisoner's pecs, moving up into the sweaty hollows of his grossly aromatic armpits.

"Doesn't that feel good, Bradshaw? Doesn't that make you want to laugh your fucking head off?"

Despite Bradshaw's resolve not to let the objects torment him, the damned things were tormenting him, crazing him, and, to his abject humiliation, they continued to fill his traitorous pecker with blood, arching his humongous boner into an ever harder state.

While Bradshaw was reduced to shouting further NO-NO-NO's, Vince and Ryan contented themselves by tickling the pimply, hairy flesh at the base of Matt Bradshaw's cum-swollen balls, the feathers maddeningly flickering over the quivering skin above Bradshaw's hips, before simultaneously concentrating on the underside of Bradshaw's now totally engorged organ.

Vince and Ryan continued to stroke the hapless, denuded, totally humiliated jock into near dementia, as they concentrated their feather strokes under the dude's hairy balls into the hairy crack between his hunky assglobes, tracing maddening circles around Matt Bradshaw's hairy virgin asshole until he was babbling and drooling uncontrollably around his jockstrap gag.

Ryan's next bright idea was to proceed to again seize Matt Bradshaw's discarded chrome whistle which Bradshaw used to shrilly chastise athletes, and proceeded to again dangle it by its cord onto Matt Bradshaw's privates.

Matt Bradshaw yelped in surprise at the unexpected contact of the ice-cold metal on his manly crotch, the damned thing again tormenting his cum-churning balls, and causing his fully erect cock to throb with unbidden pleasure as the cold chrome whistle and the metal hook that attached it to the cord, again thrillingly caught in the stray pubic hairs on Matt Bradshaw's balls, yanking at them and goosing him to beat the band.

After teasing Matt Bradshaw's balls to the accompaniment of Bradshaw's continual, now uncontrollable mewls of undisguised pleasure, alternating with Bradshaw's pleas to "Stop that you fuckers!," Ryan again proceeded to dip the blasted whistle lower, down into Matt Bradshaw's hair-filled asscrack, prompting further squeals of sexual frenzy, as the cold, chrome whistle continued to tease and tickle Bradshaw's hairy crack, provoking uncontrollable laughter, mewls and further squeals, as the whistle continued to pull and even yank out clumps of Bradshaw's asscrack hair, including around his hair-haloed virgin asshole. Bradshaw was forced to submit to Ryan's and Vince' ministrations, as they slowly drove Bradshaw into near dementia.

Ryan began to alternate between trailing the cold whistle over the insides of Bradshaw's hairy, spread-eagled thighs, then down to Bradshaw's already-much-tormented feet, only to suddenly rise again to tickle Bradshaw's rampant cock and pent-up balls, and then to dip over Bradshaw's sensitive ribs and chest hairs, tickling and yanking out Bradshaw's body hair at will.

Meanwhile, all the time Ryan was teasing Bradshaw with his own whistle, Vince simultaneously contented himself by tracing delicate little teasing circles with his lithe, strong fingers in the sweaty recesses of Matt Bradshaw's totally exposed and extremely vulnerable hairy armpits, prompting a series of sexual squeals fit to raise the dead, using Bradshaw's own sweat as a lubricant, and often alternately dipping Vince' sweat-drenched fingers down onto Matt Bradshaw's hairy chest, teasing Matt Bradshaw's tits into eraser-head-hard points, rivaling Bradshaw's throbbing cock in their degree of erection.

Further inspired, Ryan took a little detour to Bradshaw's kitchen where he always kept a ready supply of healthy foods to keep his own magnificent body in its peak condition, and Ryan was pleased to see that among his salad fixings were a few nice cucumbers which he could now put to good use!

Ryan grabbed the largest cucumber he had, ice-cold out of the refrigerator, and suddenly yanked the spit-drenched jockstrap out of Bradshaw's mouth and forced Bradshaw to suck on it like it was a cock, informing Bradshaw that this baby was going up Bradshaw's shitter whether he liked it or not, so that he better lubricate it really well.

Bradshaw gurgled in abject horror and humiliation at the spectacle of he, Matt Bradshaw, being forced to suck on a dildo in front of the burglars and secretly cringed in terror at the thought of the ice-cold cucumber going up his red-hot virgin asshole.

Nevertheless, in a flash, Ryan whipped the offending ice-cold cucumber out of Bradshaw's protesting mouth, and forced it inexorably, slowly, slowly, up Matt Bradshaw's virgin shitchute.

Matt Bradshaw initially yelped loudly that his tormentors should "Take it out, it's killing meee!", but, little by little, despite the cucumber's icy-cold insertion, slowly but surely the red-hot warmth of Bradshaw's virgin shitchute coupled with the increasing pressure on Matt Bradshaw's never-before-utilized prostate gland, began to spread yet more unbidden pleasure to his denuded, demoralized body, and his totally engorged pecker throbbed all the more, despite all of Matt Bradshaw's will to the contrary.

For a grand finale, Vince and Ryan pulled out all the stops. Aiming the two diabolical feathers at all of Matt Bradshaw's most sensitive spots, most notably his feet, crotch and armpits, Ryan cooed to Bradshaw to "Ride with it, Bradshaw, Feels nice, real nice and sweet, doesn't it? " The diabolical duo then proceeded to generally swirl Bradshaw's body hair in concentric circles, driving the bronzed, buff investment banker up the wall with unbidden passion.

Bradshaw's upraised and exposed aromatic armpits were deeply delved into, while Bradshaw uncontrollably thrashed about, trying to avoid the delicate sensations their devilish tickling was causing him.

Slowly, slowly, they were bringing the reluctant investment banker along, as he lay there in his bondage, quivering with mounting sex heat as the tips of their educated fingers moved like tiny fire-feathers against Matt Bradshaw's erogenous flesh.

"AAAAWWWWW..." breathed Matt Bradshaw, unwillingly allowing them to reduce him to a sex-slave, his eyes rolling up under his fluttering eyelids, gasping "YEAH! OH YEAH "

Fiendishly wielding their diabolical fingertips and/or the tips of their feathers, Vince and Ryan slowly were driving Matt Bradshaw totally up the wall, to the point where his completely engorged organ was primed to explode.

"Getting close, bitch?" queried Vince, relishing Matt Bradshaw's predicament, "Wanna blast off, huh??"

Ryan instructed Vince to keep pistoning the lodged cucumber up the bound, helpless, arrogant Bradshaw's hairy asshole while Ryan climbed up over Bradshaw's hunky body and grabbed Bradshaw's dark hair. Bradshaw yelped and opened his mouth and was promptly rewarded with Ryan's pulsating boner down Bradshaw's throat. Ryan continued forcing Bradshaw to suck him off for several minutes while Vince continued to cucumber-fuck Bradshaw with one hand, and idly tickle, goose, and tease him with the other.

Ryan then further humiliated the too-far-gone Bradshaw by squatting on his handsome face, using his full body weight to force the arrogant dude's nose and mouth into the lightly-haired crack of Ryan's musky, sweaty ass, pinning Bradshaw further between the tightly-muscled cheeks of his perfectly rounded, bare ass.

Bradshaw spluttered with horror and indignation, yet the combined efforts of Ryan and Vince of grabbing and squeezing the heterosexual stud's priceless nuts, forced Bradshaw to open up and slurp Ryan's musky ass, new rivulets of stud sweat cascading out of Bradshaw's hairy armpits, as Bradshaw was forced to slavishly lather Ryan's crack and rounded assglobes.

"Yeah, Bradshaw, eat my ass!! Who's the 'faggot' now, huh?"" cried Ryan as Ryan settled lower onto Bradshaw's handsome, bronzed five o'clock shadowed face. As Ryan and Vince continued to threaten to cut off Bradshaw's totally defenseless balls, Bradshaw was forced to probe deeper into the confines of Ryan's ass, as Ryan coaxed him to probe "Deeper!! C'mon all the way up there!! Oooo!! AAAAH!! Yeahhh! C'mon, stick your arrogant tongue up my shitter!!"

Totally out of control, and crazed with incredible lust, Ryan quickly jumped off Bradshaw's face only to shift suddenly around and blow his thick wad all over Bradshaw's handsome face, to Bradshaw's utter horror and undying humiliation, all of this caught on the video camera . Globs of the young burglar's cum dripped all down Bradshaw's handsome, sun-bronzed face, as the hyper-macho Bradshaw sobbed in utter shame and humiliation.

Vince and Ryan then directed their attention to driving the still unsatisfied and totally pent-up Bradshaw to distraction by repeatedly tickling, teasing, goosing Bradshaw to the edge of orgasm, by using feathers, fingers, ice cubes, the chrome whistle and other objects, over and over again, only to back off at the precise moment that the pent-up stud Bradshaw was about to blow his nuts.

Totally frustrated, Bradshaw found himself making involuntary figure-8's into the air, his sweaty asscheeks pounding against the bed in a futile attempt to bring himself off, to achieve the long-delayed orgasm he had anticipated spilling for hours.

Ryan teased, "You wanna cum, don't you, you pathetic asshole, don't you?? Well, we're not gonna let you cum, you scumbag! Not until we say when, and we can take our own sweet time!"

"YES!! whispered Bradshaw, "I wanna cum, you fuckers!!! Oh, shit!!! It feels so good!!! Oh, yeahhh!!! That's it!!!! Work it!!!! I'm getting close again!!!! I'm gonna...HEH!!! Wha...Why did you stop? Don't stop now!! I forbid it!! I FUCKING COMMAND you to let me cum!!! I wanna shoot it!!! I wanna cum!!!!"

"What you want is irrelevant, shithead!," said Ryan. "You'll get off if and when we say so!! We're calling the shots now!!" (Literally!).

After twenty minutes or so of further torment, again and again driving Bradshaw to the brink of orgasm, Ryan and Vince finally tired of it, laughing at the way Bradshaw's cock twitched at the air, grew redder and redder, his balls churning with their pent-up long-denied load.

"HURRY!! HURRY!!" pleaded the out-of-it Bradshaw, as Ryan and Vince pulled out all the stops and tickled, goosed and teased Bradshaw with all their implements of tickle-torture, until Bradshaw's body jerked violently as if jolted by bolts of electricity, and Bradshaw yowled "YAAAAAA!!!!" and with a funky audible whoosh, Bradshaw came like crazy, shooting geysers of red-hot cum that jettisoned directly up to the ceiling of his bedroom, stuck there, and then slowly dripped down onto the thrashing Bradshaw's hunky nude bound body, as further gigantic rocket jets of red-hot cum fountained in quick succession out of Bradshaw's spasming prick, splattering all over Bradshaw's own face, hairy chest and crotch.

Vince, howling with derisive laughter at Bradshaw's shameful, forced long-pent-up orgasm, straddled Bradshaw's bound, hairy legs with his own legs, as he continued to laugh derisively, pointing one strong, bronzed finger at the humiliated arrogant bully.

Vince scooped up Bradshaw's huge cum load and rubbed it into Bradshaw's face and mouth forcing him to swallow his own cum to the accompaniment of Vince and Ryan's howling laughter.

Vince next proceeded to bind Bradshaw's ankles over his head onto the headboard of the bed, totally exposing Bradshaw's asscrack. Vince then suddenly rammed his prick home up Bradshaw's totally exposed and vulnerable shitter and all the naked Bradshaw could do was lie there in his tightly secured bonds and take it, crying as Vince repeatedly humped Bradshaw's ass, savagely screwing his cock into and out of the Bradshaw's hunky ass, grunting and sweating all the while.

"Nice tight ass, you bitch, Bradshaw!" yelled Vince as he slammed his muscular pelvis forward, grinding his coarse pubes against Bradshaw's hair-flecked assglobes. "You love this, admit it, Bradshaw, you've been waiting your whole worthless life to be fucked by a big cock, haven't you?" husked Vince.

Vince's straight white teeth nibbled on Bradshaw's ear, as he violently humped the despised bully's bad-boy ass, his red-hot tongue washing Bradshaw's sensuous ear, the tickling sensation driving the helpless stud wild with unbidden lust.

Vince further drove Bradshaw into near dementia by simultaneously reaching under Bradshaw's hairy, aromatic armpits and repeatedly tickled them, as well as Bradshaw's hairy chest and eraser-point-hard tits as Vince continued to brutally plow into the bound stud's virgin ass. At the same time, Vince further tormented Bradshaw by tickling Bradshaw's sides and ribs, and goosing Bradshaw's crotch as well, to the hetero stud Bradshaw's abiding shame. Ryan contented himself by tickling Bradshaw's upraised feet while Vince fucked the arrogant shithead.

"Gonna make you blow your load again, bitch, gonna ride you till you blow your fucking nuts, asshole!" husked Vince.

"OHHH!!! AHHHHH!!!!!" shrieked Bradshaw, fingers clenching and unclenching, and his toes curling wildly, as Bradshaw helplessly rubbed his own boner against Vince's lean, laddered abdominals.

Bradshaw suddenly felt every muscle in Vince's muscular young body go rigid as he plowed forward against the red-hot assglobes of Bradshaw's beaten ass, Vince adding insult to injury by wildly scratching and raking his fingernails savagely down Bradshaw's totally exposed and vulnerable hair-flecked ass, causing painful pleasure to spread throughout the hapless bully's exposed backside and cock and hairy balls which were also being subjected to tickling, kneading and goosing, as Vince withdrew from Bradshaw to spray thick wads of cum all over Bradshaw's hairy chest, jet-propelled globs even reaching Bradshaw's sweat-drenched hair.

The net effect of this was to also trigger an immense orgasm by Ryan, all over Bradshaw's hairy body, and this, combined with the weight of both Vince's poundings and thrashings on top of his bound form, forced Bradshaw to also blast his own hot load all over himself, to his further undying humiliation.

EPILOGUE

Hours later, the ever-vigilant Police Department received an "anonymous" tip that unusual noises and sounds of struggle were emanating from Bradshaw's home.

Bradshaw was found by the derisive cops who found him bound to his bed and drenched in his own cum, sweat and tears. Just another fuckin' faggot into S and M the cynical cops concluded.

Fearful of having Vince and Ryan circulate the video tape, all Bradshaw could babble about was being "tied up by burglars" although the cops sneeringly pointed out that nothing was missing and there was no sign of forced entry. Vince and Ryan had cleaned up the place completely before leaving with the video tape.

Weeks later, Bradshaw received the first phone call from Vince and Ryan. They would not circulate the damning video tape so long as Bradshaw set up his snobby friends and current members of the snobby fraternity he had belonged to in college, making Matt Bradshaw promise to not only make himself available for further "sessions" but also to arrange for Vince and Ryan to "get" such prizes as:

(1) The arrogant current Pledgemaster of his ex-fraternity.
(2) The soon-to-be-married-to-a-socialite President of his ex-fraternity.
(3) Current uniformed members of the elite Air Force "anti-interrogation" unit.
(4) Snobby members of his exclusive health club, as well as
(5) Uniformed members of the security patrol which guards Bradshaw's exclusive neighborhood.

Vince and Ryan loved the sound of the arrogant Bradshaw's defeated and resigned sigh at the other end of the line.


THE END (or is it?)




Richard
carefreerichard@hotmail.com