Staring at his feet, morosely swabbing the floor at the far wall of the of the latrine trying not to breathe through ..

Sean Cody - himself was straight until his late twenties. He was born and raised a Mormon, but that didn't stop him from sneaking peeks at the other guys in the locker room after gym class. He liked looking at muscular, developing bodies. In spite of his homo rumblings, which he didn't seem to understand as such, Sean continued to play it straight through his twenties, although he abandoned the Mormons when he was eighteen. As he got out into the working world, he played a little here and there and explored his desire for the male body..

Staring at his feet, morosely swabbing the floor at the far wall of the of the latrine trying not to breathe through his nose the sickly sweet stench of industrial strength disinfectant clings roughly to the back of his throat. His rectum finally recovered from the reaming it took his first night in camp he moves sluggishly having lain sleepless for the past three nights; each day in the mess-hall his attackers have promised a return visit, but they have yet to make good on that promise.
Too tired to react quickly he sees a foot snake out, tip the metal mop-bucket over. Filthy soapy water sloshes over his feet soaking into his sneakers running through the slick wood floorboards; the overwhelming smell of pine disinfectant rising up from his feet makes him gag. A pair of hands grab him roughly by the front of his t-shirt, slam him backwards against the wooden wall with a dull thud. He moves instinctively to raise the mop handle in defense, but the hands of the boy towering over him grab the mop wrench it from his hands tossing it casually aside, smiling, slamming him effortlessly back into the wall.
"Randy says you give _excellent_ head." Smiling.
His stomach is in his mouth, he feels the bile rise, looks wildly past the boy trapping him in the far end of the latrine. He sees Randy, another boy he recognizes as one of the baseball jocks, leaning against the row of sinks near the door, smirking. He twitches nervously, his eyes drawn to the noticable bulge in Randy's jeans.
"Colin!" he yelps the name of their counselor but the boy in front of him closes in, grinning down into his face.
"Counselor ain't here, pussy. It's quiet hour. Probably trying to score with the nurse."
Large hands grab the tops of his shoulders, push him relentlessly to his knees.
"Blow me, faggot."
He screws his eyes shut, kneeling in the filthy soapy water spilled from the bucket, his arms at his side, his lips pressed tightly shut he hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper. A smack across the side of his head sends him reeling, he raises his hands to protect his head, is kneed in the stomach."
"Blow me you goddamn faggot, unless you wanna take it up your ass instead?"
He sees a hand reach out to grab at his shoulder and lift him to his feet; terrified of another butt-fucking he opens his mouth and lunges forward onto the cock before him. He licks clumsily, gagging as the boy grabs his hair and thrusts into his face he hears the boy moaning appreciatively, feels a bulging cock head pressing against the back of his throat. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, instinct makes him press them against his attacker's legs as he feels the cock thrust down into his throat harder and more insistently blocking his air passage he cannot breathe panicking now struggling instinctively.

A familiar sickening slimy wetness spreads at the back of his throat, the bludgeoning penis is withdrawn from his face, the major volume of sperm sprayed into his hair, some in his face he flinches, hears laughter, feels a thick gob of warm wet jism sliding down his cheek.
"Fuckin' hose the pansy down goddamn!"
Randy.
He is coughing, doubled over spitting semen onto the latrine floor, wiping it from his face, only vaguely aware that the first boy has pulled up his pants and moved back to the look-out position, replaced by Randy's baseball pal.
He kneels up, sees the boy standing over him dick in hand waiting expectantly for his blow-job.
"Well, asshole?"
Unable to envision an escape from the afternoon's ordeal he lurches forward sucking the boy's penis into his mouth he pulls back, sliding his mouth along the length rolling his tongue around the head, slowly, instinctively, somehow dimly aware that if he actively sucks the boy he has more control, won't be strangled, he bobs his head up and down along the rubbery flesh this boy's penis is shorter and thinner than the first boy's he uses his hands to squeeze the boy's balls hoping it will make him come sooner, get it over with faster.
His instincts are good; after only a few long minutes of attention, the penis in his mouth is squirting semen the boy is moaning and clutching at his cum-spattered hair humping into his face, he feels the softening penis sliding wetly against the roof of his mouth, hears Randy and the other boy offering encouragement from where they stand guard to their friend lost in the throes of ecstasy.
The penis is withdrawn from his mouth, more semen coughed up, spit onto the floor, offered up at the feet of his second attacker.
He is still kneeling and spitting, hearing the laughter echo about the small building as Randy approaches. He looks into the face hovering over him, his eyes black with hatred. Randy smiles.
"You know you love it."
He kneels, not moving, still glaring.
"Get up."
to be continued next week ...

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