Boy Power House
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
3,781
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
3,781
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction about oral & anal sex between men and young boys. The characters, locations & incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 17
©2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Chapter 17
Date: Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Place: Victor's home, Patterson, NY
Inside the cabinet are hundreds of tapes and DVDs. He notices a section of DVDs with his name and different dates. He takes one dated two weeks ago and puts it in the player in the living room. Shit, oh, my fuckin' Jesus. He sits aghast as he watches himself and Victor on the flat panel TV fucking. In the bedroom. He pauses the player and races back upstairs and starts opening closets. In minutes, he discovers the three hidden cameras. Shit, it's a fuckin fishbowl. He goes back down and starts looking at the other DVDs. One for every Tuesday he was with Victor. Images of them kissing, caressing, feeling each other's asses. Images of them jerking each other off, sucking, and rimming. Images of them fucking in every position. From the first week months ago when Mark was a nervous virgin and Victor made his first tentative advances, up until two weeks ago when the confident teenager displayed his talents in all his hormone-raging horniness. How could Victor do this to him. Betray his trust. Mark started to feel sick. This was worse than watching the towers fall.
Did Victor also record lovemaking with his wife? Mark doesn't really care but he's curious to see what she looks like. He begins fumbling around at the other DVDs. Each one has a date and a name on it. A boy's name. There's a section for Kenny, Jack, Dean. Mark grabs the desk calendar. All the dates for Jack are Fridays. Dean's are Sundays. Victor has a fuckin' kid for every day of the week. Mark scoops up a handful of DVDs and goes back into the living room. Sure enough, every boy is going at it with Victor in bed. "In Our Bed!" Through all the sucking and fucking, Victor keeps calling them all "Sweetheart." Now Mark isn't sick. He's furious. The fuckin' guy he had worshipped is nothing but a slime ball. The god's pedestal collapses as surely as the WTC. Victor should have been in one of the towers this morning. That's what he deserves.
Suddenly through his anger, Mark focuses on one of the boys on the screen. He knows him. Jack, the Friday boy, also lives on the streets. Two years older, he helped Mark out on several occasions, showing him ways to survive. But Jack hustles for tricks, and Mark hopes he never has to resort to that. He begins running more DVDs, now concentrating on the faces of the other boys. Some are older teenagers, and some look like his own age. But then he recognizes the Sunday boy also. Shit. Dean is only ten! He often comes out on the streets to hang with Mark and even helps him beg. Sometimes he swipes food from his parents to give Mark, and even snitches some money from his Mom's pocketbook to give him. He calls Mark his big brother. Now, Mark is watching Victor molest this innocent little kid, conning him into taking his cock in his mouth, and on a recent recording, popping his virgin cherry for the first time, and all the while telling him he is his "Sweetheart." Damn. What kind of a big brother lets that happen to a little kid? But he never knew. And how does Dean explain to his parents where he is every Sunday night?
Mark is no longer concerned about the wife. Obviously there is no wife. Only six other boys like himself, whose illusions of Victor's undying love are still intact. It is almost midnight, but he is wide awake now. Nighttime is when he is most active anyway. He is nocturnal. He spends the next several hours alternating between eating out of Victor's pantry and fridge, and looking through more DVDs. He finds older recordings of boys once young and fresh, now grown too old for Victor's predilections. Discarded boys whose vibrant images continue to live on the flat screen. The oldest recordings are on VHS tapes. Through the years, Victor's videography equipment kept improving. The pictures got sharper, the lights brighter, the sound quality clearer so that now you can hear every softly murmured tender syllable as well as the screams of passion. After a while, a second camera angle was added, and eventually a third. Mark finds himself admiring Victor's skill in recording while simultaneously fucking the shit out of his unwitting costars.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Chapter 17
Date: Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Place: Victor's home, Patterson, NY
Inside the cabinet are hundreds of tapes and DVDs. He notices a section of DVDs with his name and different dates. He takes one dated two weeks ago and puts it in the player in the living room. Shit, oh, my fuckin' Jesus. He sits aghast as he watches himself and Victor on the flat panel TV fucking. In the bedroom. He pauses the player and races back upstairs and starts opening closets. In minutes, he discovers the three hidden cameras. Shit, it's a fuckin fishbowl. He goes back down and starts looking at the other DVDs. One for every Tuesday he was with Victor. Images of them kissing, caressing, feeling each other's asses. Images of them jerking each other off, sucking, and rimming. Images of them fucking in every position. From the first week months ago when Mark was a nervous virgin and Victor made his first tentative advances, up until two weeks ago when the confident teenager displayed his talents in all his hormone-raging horniness. How could Victor do this to him. Betray his trust. Mark started to feel sick. This was worse than watching the towers fall.
Did Victor also record lovemaking with his wife? Mark doesn't really care but he's curious to see what she looks like. He begins fumbling around at the other DVDs. Each one has a date and a name on it. A boy's name. There's a section for Kenny, Jack, Dean. Mark grabs the desk calendar. All the dates for Jack are Fridays. Dean's are Sundays. Victor has a fuckin' kid for every day of the week. Mark scoops up a handful of DVDs and goes back into the living room. Sure enough, every boy is going at it with Victor in bed. "In Our Bed!" Through all the sucking and fucking, Victor keeps calling them all "Sweetheart." Now Mark isn't sick. He's furious. The fuckin' guy he had worshipped is nothing but a slime ball. The god's pedestal collapses as surely as the WTC. Victor should have been in one of the towers this morning. That's what he deserves.
Suddenly through his anger, Mark focuses on one of the boys on the screen. He knows him. Jack, the Friday boy, also lives on the streets. Two years older, he helped Mark out on several occasions, showing him ways to survive. But Jack hustles for tricks, and Mark hopes he never has to resort to that. He begins running more DVDs, now concentrating on the faces of the other boys. Some are older teenagers, and some look like his own age. But then he recognizes the Sunday boy also. Shit. Dean is only ten! He often comes out on the streets to hang with Mark and even helps him beg. Sometimes he swipes food from his parents to give Mark, and even snitches some money from his Mom's pocketbook to give him. He calls Mark his big brother. Now, Mark is watching Victor molest this innocent little kid, conning him into taking his cock in his mouth, and on a recent recording, popping his virgin cherry for the first time, and all the while telling him he is his "Sweetheart." Damn. What kind of a big brother lets that happen to a little kid? But he never knew. And how does Dean explain to his parents where he is every Sunday night?
Mark is no longer concerned about the wife. Obviously there is no wife. Only six other boys like himself, whose illusions of Victor's undying love are still intact. It is almost midnight, but he is wide awake now. Nighttime is when he is most active anyway. He is nocturnal. He spends the next several hours alternating between eating out of Victor's pantry and fridge, and looking through more DVDs. He finds older recordings of boys once young and fresh, now grown too old for Victor's predilections. Discarded boys whose vibrant images continue to live on the flat screen. The oldest recordings are on VHS tapes. Through the years, Victor's videography equipment kept improving. The pictures got sharper, the lights brighter, the sound quality clearer so that now you can hear every softly murmured tender syllable as well as the screams of passion. After a while, a second camera angle was added, and eventually a third. Mark finds himself admiring Victor's skill in recording while simultaneously fucking the shit out of his unwitting costars.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.