BDSM Library - Story: Nick\'s Summer, Chapter: Part 7

Nick 7 - Trip to Nashville

by Emile

---

Lying in the filth in the early morning sun, cock still straining against the tight rings, Nick realised with dread that another milestone had come. The evening before they'd reached two others - the first time his dilated manpussy had stayed a gaping inch wide unplugged, and the first time his pisshole had taken a half-inch round steel rod down the full length - with the rings still strapped around it. But this milestone was, in Nick's mind, worse. Jack had decided to take him to the Nashville Football Academy's orientation day, just the pair of them, for the whole day and night - the academy putting on a bonfire and sleepout with the frats. Jack said he'd help him choose a frat, meet the guys - all the things Nick had desperately hoped to keep separate from his agonising life on the farm. But it was not to be, and in the weak dawn light, Jack came in to unstrap Nick and haul him to his feet to prepare for the long trip ahead.

Jack had already prepared the truck, and was wearing preppy college clothes, even putting some for Nick in the cab. Jack was looking hot and clean, like a college boy should, with a trim goatee and trucker's cap. He let Nick stand, shakily, and let him ease out the humungous dildo, the sliding make Nick groan and Nick's dick pulse uncontrollably. Outside the barn, Jack turned a hose on him, spraying off the filth with a hard jet of icy water, flashing him his white toothy grin as the jock put up his hands to fend off the spray. Jack stood back to admire his handiwork, Nick's muscles were tight from the cold and shone in the sunlight, nipples hard and pouty, cock soft for once, still long and fat, draped over the steel cuff like meat on a slab. He made Nick turn around and grab his heels, aiming the water jet at Nick's winking hole, the penetrating water making him squirm. For that Jack let the hose drop slightly, to make sure his big swinging balls were battered too.

After 5 minutes, Nick was soaking wet and dripping like a sheep fresh from the dip, his cropped hair glistening, rivulets of icy water still cascading over his hard pecs and down his bulging arms. He wasn't allowed to dry himself, not even wipe the water from his face as it dripped from his soggy fringe. Jack motioned for Nick to kneel in the dirt, mud clinging to his thighs, and wiled away the time it took him to drip dry with a long slow facefuck, making Nick maul his own nips and pull at his foreskin until he was frustratingly hard and drippy.

Finally after Jack slammed in balls deep to cum in Nick's throat, he deemed he'd drip dried enough, and hauled Nick out to the truck. He threw Nick his travelling clothes - the baby blue pouch from Jack's stripper days. Nick pulled on the silky material, instantly clinging to his damp curves, and began scrambling into the cab, despite the humiliation of exposing his damp body as he stretched up, and the dull pain of his raw arse. Jack just stood outside, laughing. Once Nick had finally managed to climb in, he sneered "You can't ride up front all wet like that - get out and into the tray where the sun can dry yer out." Nick looked back at Jack disbelieving, hanging at the door a second too long, and Jack hauled him out by the scruff of his neck, so he had to scramble to follow him up to the dusty tray table. Jack hauled him all the way to the grille across the window, and grabbed his wrists until he was in a low sitting position, his wrists forming a V above his head. He lashed them apart, and tied his ankles up on the sides of the tray, so his whole body rested on his tail. Anyone high enough off the road could see his whole muscular body, spreadeagled and shining in the sun.

Jack got in and gunned the engine, heading out of Colder Farm at speed. The truck kicked up clouds of dirt which began settling on Nick's moist body, covering him with dirt, matting his hair and forcing him to shut his mouth and eyes. He heard Jack calling back from the cab "Hey Nicky, just us boys eh. Here, why don't you get comfortable to dry. Flex those guns, let everyone see your pits. Now stay like that - I know it might be a little uncomfortable - just for an hour or so until the moisture drys. Try not to sweat, Nicky, or you'll just have to stay back there the whole trip. Yeah, and once you're good and ready, we can worry about plugging that sweet arse of yours with the extra-large vibrator I brought. It's a noisy tool when it's on, so if you don't want it drilling your arse in front of your new fratmates, you'd better be on your best behaviour. I know it makes you all hard and leaky, so I brought some rubber for you to wear under your shorts. But we'll wait until we're near Nashville for that. Relax, it's only a few hours. Oh, and remind me to pump up those big boy balls of yours, don't want them calling you a sissy..." Nick groaned, already perspiration was trickling down his lats from his moist pits, and the thin pouch was soaked with crotch sweat and precum. He'd be oozing the whole way.

They got on the road, and as they sped down the highway, the heat turned his sweating to max. He squirmed in the hard tray, his tanned body covered in the sheen of exertion, juice pooling under his arse. He opened his eyes, looking down at his brown body, tanned and dirt streaked, his dirty blonde hair almost black with dust. Like this he looked like the latino farmhands his dad often hired, and knew from their fierce revenge fucks that the look was a magnet for redneck abuse. Most of the townies around, Jack included, were especially cruel to the handsome young gringos, and with his tan and filthy body, they'd treat him no differently.

A truck came up behind them, and the driver leaned forward in the cab, copping a good look of the hunky jock lying prone, legs apart and dork drooling. Through the dust, the growing wet patch on the front of the pouch shone clearly, his insatiable dork still burping precum. He saw the drivers gaze travel up from his dicklump to his carved waist, taking in the trash can tattoo still visible through the grime. Smiling knowingly, he honked and leered. Nick's eyes were wild at the embarassment, which turned to fear when Jack swung off the road, and he realised the truckie was going to pull over too, for some action.

They pulled on to a hot dusty track behind some trees. Jack killed the engine, and stepped down to meet the trucker on the track. They stood away, and Nick scrunched his head onto his chest, watching as they nodded, and the trucker passed Jack some notes, before heading up to the tray, grinning. Jack lit a cigarette and wandered out of sight.

The trucker was about 30 and big, solid as the truck he drove. He easily jumped up on the tray table, the sun behind him. Nick squinted, just making out his bulky frame as the trucker shucked off his dungarees, letting them slip to the ground. He was naked underneath, and Nick vaguely made out his blunt monster dong swinging in the breeze. The brute advanced on him in a couple of steps, blocking out the sunlight and filling his vision with the bulbous headed cock. He just had a few seconds to make out crusted dickcheese on the plump head before it brushed against his lips, the acrid smell hitting him simultaneously. The swarthy bear smelt as if he hadn't washed in days, and as he began pistoning into Nick's unresisting throat, the taste became worse, as clumps of dried cum and other, fouler tastes, filled his mouth. But it wasn't a facefuck he was after. Once his dick was good and hard, stretching Nick's mouth and leaving the lingering taste of cheesy cock, he pulled out, a gob of drool spluttering out and stringing down Nick's chest. He reached back and unhhooked Nick's leg ropes, hefting Nick's thighs up to his haunches, jabbing the blunt tool against the strip of fabric protecting the last shred of Nick's dignity. "Ok fuckboy, get ready for some serious arseploughing" he barked, grabbing the strap running over his balls and yanking it aside, making his tackle flop out and exposing his arsehole. Just as his own thick cock flopped down, the truckers own pierced his arselips, easily penetrating deep into the fucked jock arse. He lunged forward, mashing Nick's balls between their public bones, thrusting deep, hard and quick like a bronco. As he thrust, he grabbed Nick's tackle, thumb hammed against the bulging dickhead, pushing away the unwanted reminder that the arse he was fucking belonged to another man. In less than a minute he slammed in so hard Nick thought his waist would snap, shooting slugs of cum deep inside Nick. Nick was ashamed to remember when he was a kid, helping his dad inseminate the cows on the farm. He too took cruel delight in jabbing the basters in, squeezing hard to shoot the bull milk deep and fast. Now he, the man cow, understood what they felt. As the guy came down from his orgasmic high, he let Nick's legs slide down, finally dropping him completely, sticky juice leaking from his tail. He sneered at Nick, disgusted, calling him a 'fucking trash whore' and spitting on his grimy face. He pulled up his dungarees, lit up a cigarette and jumped off the tray, leaving Nick sprawling and fucked. He'd carelessly grabbed at him, so his body was covered with dirt smudged hand prints, skin bruising red. He hoped the marks wouldn't show in Nashville.

As the truck revved up and began pulling out, Jack appeared, grinning even more than usual. He hopped up onto the tray, strolling up to Nick's filthy spattered body. He unhooked Nick's hands, letting him rub his wrists for circulation. "We're almost in Nashville, so now's as good a time as any to get ready." He handed Nick a towel to wipe off the grime. His sheen of perspiration mixed with the tangy cum made his body glisten, and the sweaty mixture helped him clean off the visible crud, even if he smelt a little funky all over by the time he'd finished. He was still a mess, dark brown tan, smears of dirt here and there, a few bruises and welts that'd be hard to explain. His dick and balls still hung out of the posing pouch, fat and heavy, and he asked Jack if he could tuck them back in. "Fuck no! In fact, why don't you start rubbing, show me how much you 'preciate my company." Nick reached down, fumbling with his own throbbing tool. Reluctantly, he began sliding back his foreskin, the sweaty tool getting covered in dirt and trucker dickleak from his hands, which was getting trapped against the head. Seeing Nick's dork swelling, Jack guided Nick to his knees, hauling out his own slimy fucker, slipping it down Nick's throat for facefuck number two. He began with slow strokes, but soon was fucking furiously, bruising Nick's lips, at which point Jack made him stop jerking, the dork arching up desperately. Instead, he made Nick reach back and finger his freshly fucked hole, coating his hand with cream as Jack fired a second volley down his waiting throat. Both were sweating, and Jack climbed around, into the shade of the cab, leaving Nick kneeling in the blazing sun. A few minutes later he came back around, telling Nick that now he could tuck his tool into the pouch, and put on his college clothes. The hard stalk barely fit in the tight material, and as he pulled on the jeans and plaid shirt Jack had handed him, they clung to his moist body like a second skin. Jack coiled up the ropes and told Nick to get down. It was hard, he couldn't jump off like the others, what with shooting pains up his arse, and the humiliation of knowing another guy's seed would leak from your butt with every step you took, and slowly lowered himself down onto the ground. Jack jumped down effortlessly, clasping him around the shoulder like an old friend, hustling him to the cab. "Hurry up, or we'll miss the action". Worse than the dread now was the pain, he just wanted to curl up and wait until his arse and throat felt normal again. But as they got to the front, Jack spied one last item Nick was meant to wear. Achingly, Nick had to bend over again, shucking his jeans, while Jack plugged his freshly fucked hole with an enormous ribbed dong he'd brought from home. The vibrating dildo was hard for Nick to swallow (so as to speak) at the best of times, let alone after the marathon night and morning of arsefucking that'd been inflicted on him. When he took his first step he yelped with pain, and could hardly walk without it churning his innards. "No slacking" Jack called from the drivers side "they'll think you walk with a stick up your arse" he teased. Somehow Nick climbed up in front next to Jack, as he gunned the engine.

During the rest of the trip, Jack kept him horny and uncomfortable, leaning over occasionally to squeeze his buns or iron-hard dick, making him moan uncontrollably and burp more sap into the pouch. Two dark patches on his jeans formed, of trucker dickslime and his own, just barely hidden by the hem of the old football jersey Jack had given him. He just prayed he would get through this orientation alright, so when he came to Nashville alone, the terror of the farm would not follow.

Meanwhile...

Reb and Seth were in Brick's bedroom, on the top floor of the towering Adams-style BDT frathouse. Reb and Seth were sitting on the narrow spare bed in their boxers, swapping stories about their dates last night. Brick lay spread out on his king bed, propped up on his elbows, buck naked and sporting a throbbing hard-on that leaked down the stalk, soaking into the sheets. Red and Seth's own fat cocks were straining against the cotton. They'd often shoot the shit in the frathouse like this, getting each other hard and horny with their explicit stories, egging each other on for the next night's activities. For three young, attractive muscular jocks, sex was a game like any other, hard fought competition not just for the most points, but for victory against all odds. Reb continued. "Man it was wicked, especially when I grabbed her tit and held her against the desk, pumping her twat full of juice. Man you should have heard her scream, some shit about me promising to pull out, and her husband, it was full on." Brick groaned in the background, his 10" stalk oozing steadily, still without him touching it. Seth glanced over, secretly turned on by seeing the buff footballer dripping hard. He knew Brick was just delaying his orgasm, and wished he could keep him like that, all pent up and horny. In fact, he couldn't wait for this year's batch of freshmen to move into the frat.

"Yeah anyway, so I get a call this morning, she's blubbering, says she's pregnant!Fucking A!" Seth squeezed his hard stalk, burping dickjuice into the shorts. Reb grinned. "So I told her Seth my man fucked her too after she passed out. Whoa was she pissed..." Brick yelled "fuuuck" from the bed, stroking his hard cock until a jet of cream shot in the air, spattering his thighs. "Awesome dude" he panted between breaths. "So you want me to talk to the bursar?" Reb shook his head "Nah, she was a wicked fuck. Anyway, her husband's a Rican, and she know's my dad's in immigration..." Now it was Seth's turn, his fat stalk was already poking out of the fly, and began pumping scum at the word Rican. The juice sprayed over Reb, who jumped pack, swearing. "Fuck man, what's your problem?" Seth was about to reply, but Reb had jumped up next to the window, and he caught Jack's pickup in the corner of his eye. The truck had just swung into campus, and through the front windshield, he caught a glimpse of Nick squirming as Jack squeezed his thigh. He wasn't one for gay couples, but when he saw Nick wasn't enjoying it, his crueller interests were pricked. "Awesome, looks like first of the the freshmen have come." Seth and Brick jumped up, oblivious to the cum dripping off their bodies - Seth grinned. "Well they won't be coming much longer" he quipped. Brick pulled on a pair of old jeans over his slick cock, and threw a jersey over his rippling torso. He was president after all, and had a duty to personally shake the hands of every candidate. He couldn't wait to thrust his sticky hand into Nick's, he liked what he saw. Actually, they all did.

Back in the pickup, Nick gazed up at the imposing frat houses on the hill. As he already knew, BDT, or Beta Delta Theta as it was officially known, was the kingpin of frats at Nashville Football Academy. Among the sorority girls, BDT stood for Big Dicks of Tennessee, the frat having a reputation for "fillin' chicks with their thick swinging dicks", or so they bragged. It took the (rich, thick) cream of America, the tough jocks that won every game, even if it meant trampling over their teammates. Actually, it attracted the tramplers, and welcomed them with open arms - the distinction between headkicker and future leader being so unclear these days.

Still, in their own unique sense of social responsibility, Nick had read that BDT had a quota of sponsored places each year. It was like a scholarship, but personal between the sponsoring senior and the sponsored freshman. Each year at orientation, the seniors would single out a few lucky candidates, usually poor country boys like Nick who couldn't afford boarding, and offer them a place at the frat. The sponsored freshman was given a bed in the seniors room, and a chance to be guided through varsity life by a seasoned pro. In theory it was commendable, and the Academy praised BDT seniors for their personal leadership and charity. Some of the alumni spoke highly of the special chance they'd been given. But in truth, what Nick didn't know was for most of the sponsored freshmen, the places were little more than legalised slavery, at the mercy of the whims of their senior, on whose good graces they relied for their board, meals and social standing. For those also on tuition scholarships - footballers mostly - the seniors, who captained teams controlled them entirely. Some seniors, lazily spending years to wind up their degrees, had a reputation for churning through freshies, often leaving mid-semester or at the end of the year, never to return to campus - particularly three - Reb, Seth and Brick.

Jack dropped Nick off in front of the fancy buildings and went to park the pick-up out of sight. Down on the lawns, despite the ebbing pain in his arse, Nick looked up admiringly at the lacy dormers, stone and filigree, and the breezy confident airs of the jocks lounging around. If only he could get through the weekend without Jack embarassing him, he might just find a home here after all. Three guys came out of the biggest house, all built like tanks, and made a beeline to greet him. The first was a foot taller than Nick, with a dark crew cut and licks of chest hair sprouting above the jersey neckline. He grabbed Nick's hand firmly and pumped his arm in a strong handshake, flashing him a toothy smile and welcoming him to Nashville with a southern drawl. He shone from exertion, his handshake slippery, and Nick could smell his moist funky sweat as he grabbed him by the shoulder to introduce him to the others. One, about his height and build, with a golden tan below which his muscles rippled like a cat, was Seth, who couldn't stop grinning at him unsettlingly. The other, a golden haired jock named Reb sporting a flannel shirt, jeans and boots, wouldn't have looked out of place on the farm, or a rodeo at least.

Not only were they tanks, but Nick had already guessed from the way their crotches bulged (and many previous experiences) that they were all hung like horses. Well not literally, as Nick now knew. He envied them, not for their looks, bodies or dicks, he equalled them in all three departments, but for the breezy confidence they exuded, something long lost in his soul. Seth slung his arm around Nick's shoulders, guiding him up the hill. "How about a tour of the campus, buddy?" he suggested, flashing Nick a toothy grin. He mumbled something about waiting for someone, but was secretly glad for the excuse to lose him for a while, and meet someone new. The other two hung back for Jack, leaving Seth and Nick to climb the hill to the imposing BDT frathouse. "So, Nick ..." he drawled, hugging Nick's neck tight so his forearm draped over Nick's beefy chest. "... most guys never get to see our place but I'm feelin' generous mood, and y'all came at just the right time." He squeezed Nick's pec in what might have been a reassuring gesture, but Nick couldn't be sure. Still he was desperate to get in the good graces of these guys, he wanted badly to have their lives and not his own, so he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. These were decent southern farm boys, guys his dad could respect, and perhaps if they accepted him, then he would finally leave him alone.

"I can't show you the whole house, see there's an 'inner sanctum', which you gotta pledge with us to see. But I think you'll like it here, we'd sure like more like you." Nick smiled awkwardly, the inner high taking the edge of the physical pain. Just before they entered the house, he caught a glimpse of Jack meeting the two seniors on the road. He noticed the small remote in his hands, and silently begged Jack not to switch it on. They entered, and to his relief, nothing changed. Seth let go of his shoulder, strolling over to introduce a sophmore to him. They stood apart, talking baseball, and he felt relieved - that he'd been wrong after all.

Maybe, just maybe, his luck was finally changing.