(Due to the fact that Sukie has been liquored up and off her ass for the last month, Part Four of my story The Woods did not get published. Here it is.)
The Woods: Part Four
Sun glinted behind the black helmet. Even without the back lighting, it would be impossible to see a face.
Motorcycle slapped Bradley's left cheek and then both hands grabbed his ears, holding Bradley's head still as Motorcycle slammed his rigid sex deeper into his throat. Deeper, until Bradley could no longer see: the tears flowing.
Bradley hoped this day would never end.
Motorcycle's cock stiffened beyond possibility. Erupting. For one second, maybe less, Bradley started to pull away. But then, closing his eyes, he gulped as hot bullets of semen shot deep, slamming into the back of his throat. Not wanting to lose a drop, Bradley moved his mouth up to the head, so he could better taste the starchy erupting cream.
Quivers shot through Bradley, electric, and without so much as a touch, his cock pumped out his seed, staining the front of his running shorts.
Motorcycle yanked Bradley's head away, just far enough so that Bradley could reach out with his tongue and lick away the drop of cum poised at the tip. Head pulled back, Bradley cried out in pain/pleasure as Motorcycle began slapping him back and forth, with his sex, slapping his cheeks, nose, mouth, hard enough to start a trickle of blood at his lips.
And then the piss ... yellow stream, strong smelling, began. Covering Bradley's face. With a grunt, Motorcycle pulled him forward, hard enough to pull out a hunk of Bradley's hair, and forced him down. He drank, gulping, not having time to savor its salty heat.
Piss ran down his chin and just as he had imagined, covered his mesh shirt, the smell of it growing stronger, causing Bradley's cock to harden again.
When Motorcycle was done, his cock stood at half-mast, heavy and reddened from the force of Bradley's sucking. It was then Bradley noticed the purple lesion on Motorcycle's left thigh. He shuddered, tasting the piss and cum at the back of this throat. Hadn't he read somewhere that one exposure didn't have to mean infection? Hell, he thought, lifting the heavy cock with his hand, it's probably just a blood blister.
Motorcycle's voice, bass, came out of the helmet. 'Now, little faggot. Let me give it to you. Give it to you ... ' He grabbed Bradley with so much force under the armpits, Bradley screamed. Spun him around, ripped the nylon shorts from him. Bradley's eyes opened wide as Motorcycle slammed him over the dead tree, his erect cock crashing against the bark.
'Thank you,' he whimpered. Across the mossy bark of the fallen tree was a smear of Bradley's blood, bright red on green lichen. He felt certain he would cum the moment Motorcycle entered him.
Motorcycle was poised at his ass. Bradley whispered,
'Please, let me see you just once.'
Bradley turned, reaching out with a trembling hand toward the smoked glass of the visor. Motorcycle slapped his hand away.
Bradley swallowed hard. Just this once, he thought, I've come this far. He lay again face down across the tree.
There was no sound. No wind. No birds. No insects. Bradley reached back and spread his ass cheeks.
'Please sir,' he said, speaking to the tree beneath him, 'Don't hurt me.'
E-mail if you need parts one through three, or have any smart remarks, at firstname.lastname@example.org .