"Okay, Al, time for your deprogramming," Dan stood up and announced suddenly, about halfway through drinking his second Bud light.
"I beg your pardon?" I said, setting down my own beer on the ringed surface of the cheap brown end table.
"Youll be doing PLENTY of begging, Al," quipped Dan, " but I havent the authority to pardon you your indiscretions—just the authority to place you under citizens arrest for undermining the security of the United States of America with your loose, subversive and disloyal political activity. Furthermore, as an active marshal of the Secret Midwest Militia, I will be taking responsibility for administering your correction, as authorized by our War Powers statutes."
Oh, for gods sake, I thought, still sitting there in the middle of the couch where Dan had allowed me to grow so relaxed over the last 45 minutes or so. What could I do but laugh out loud at this ridiculous posturing? Why did my studly host have to go and ruin everything by getting all serious and righteous again? I genuinely thought that we had transcended all that. I wanted to hear more stories about his weekly conquests in the backroom of the gay book store in town. I wanted to hear him piss loudly into the bowl down the hall again with the door open while still talking to me. I wanted to watch him scratch his balls and adjust his _c_o_c_k_ through the thin camouflage khaki crotch of his fatigues and let the partially unzipped zipper creep down farther to expose more and more of his white Hanes briefs. I wanted to hear more stories about the occasional basket tossing boys who had groped him or offered to suck him off over the years—and which he claims to have politely turned down on principle..
"Aw, come on, Dan, the Midwest Militia? What does anything Ive said have to do with the right to bear arms?" I laughed.
"Youre not paying attention, Professor Chompski. Im talking about my right to BARE YOUR BUNS and adjust your whiny liberal assumptions," Dan retorted, looking deadly serious. I took this as my cue to get up and leave, but no sooner had I risen to my feet then Dan moved between me and the front door and struck some sort of menacing, shirtless martial arts pose. "You think were equal?" he challenged. "Take one more step forward and find out."
I was terrified and thrilled at the same time at the thought of this tensed, panther-like male form poised to attack me, but I was also pretty annoyed. "Oh yeah, resort to physical force at the first excuse—you ARE an American hero!" I snapped.
"Who are you to badmouth strength, might and prowess, you elitist masturbator!" Dan fired back fiercely. "Force is a legitimate tool when its wielded by legitimate hands." .I thought of a few cracks I could make about legitimacy, but thought it better to not to get too lippy just then. I mean, was he just guessing I was a superwanker, or could he see that well into my bedroom window at night?
"Youve got choices, Al. You can fight me, or you can sit back down on that couch for a different kind of talk," Dan said calmly but without relaxing his pose. "From what Ive heard so far from you, I think youve got an outside chance to acquit yourself to me verbally. But physically, I must warn you, Ill lay you out flat."
I slowly lowered myself back down onto the couch, facing Dan the whole time. He relaxed his position and walked up to me and stood before me with his hands down at his side and his legs a foot or two apart. I gazed at the soft blue veins that stretched downward along the pale underside of his finely formed arms and at the ripples of tight muscle that stretched his chest and abdomen so tightly as I tried to think of something to say. For the hundredth time that afternoon I gazed at the thinly-covered, rounded bulge of his crotch which I suddenly realized had never before presented itself quite so close to my face. Dan didnt have to work hard to read my thoughts.
. "You want something right now, Al, and I want something else." Dan said. "If were equals, as YOU believe, we should both be able to get what we want, right?"
I frowned to find myself being subjected to yet another one of his bizarre logical progressions, but just nodded and continued to survey Dans tight body with some pleasure and wonder. His pale pink nipples looked as though they had never been tweaked. If so, what a waste! It made me wonder if his prostrate was being wasted as well.
"I want to see you in your briefs," I said finally, looking up to meet his eyes which twinkled back my desire, but hinted surprise that I should ask for so little.
"Well, then, lets play a little game to test your ideas about equality," Dan suggested with a sly grin. "Ill let you see me in my briefs," he said, "If you reach under the front of the couch without looking and pull out the first thing your hand touches."
We stared at each other. I imagined a pet snake under there, poisonous. I looked at the fat serpentine form lurking under the foliage print of Dans pants and longed to watch it squirm under just a thin cover of snowy white.
"Dont be squeamish," Dan encouraged me. "You were afraid of welfare reform at one time, too. But you embraced the inevitable then.....so go ahead and reach into the unknown!"
I felt a pang of guilt that my party had indeed embraced so-called welfare reform, because I secretly thought it was just a sneaky, cheap-assed, cynical way to keep from redistributing wealth and instead sweep problems under the rug. But maybe Dan was right and I just needed to grow up In any case, I found to my horror that I was ready to risk trusting him, or that at least my desire was greater than my fear of what I might grab. I leaned forward and stuck my right arm under the edge of the couch into the unknown. What my fingers touched seconds later was cold and metallic and curved, and later, noisy as I pulled it out from under me into the open. It was a steel shackle, connected to a heavy chain.
At any other time the implications of this discovery would have completely dominated my thinking and triggered my fight or flight instincts into action. But Dans zipper was already pulling apart to free the soft white mound at his groin and I hungrily watched him lower his fatigues down past his smooth pale thighs and bring them to rest just below his knees. I set the shackle down on the cushion between my knees and drank in the sight of Dan the Man in his classic American white briefs. Fine dark hairs appeared on his upper thighs and became denser and curly before disappearing under the leg bands of his briefs His _c_o_c_k_y stance, his pale skin, his military accessories and his cold smile made me think I could have sworn I saw his image in one of my fetish porn groups on the internet. All that was missing was the cigar between his curled lips.
"May I......" I breathed, raising my fingers towards the swelling curve of Dans cotton clad _c_o_c_k_.
"Um, touch my dick?" Dan Guessed, with feigned mental effort. "Sure," he winked. "But only with a shackled hand."
I sighed and pulled on the chain to see how much slack there would be If I were crazy enough to agree to such a deal. After a few feet, there was a juncture with a second length of chain and it became clear that I was holding one cuff of a four-shackle set. At present, the shackles were completely unattached to anything.
"I can see where this is going," I said at last.
"Really. Just now?" grinned Dan, my _f_u_c_k_ing studly, hotter-than-hell neighbor, who, even stripped down to his underwear, was still wearing the pants, if you know what I mean. The bastard had my number, god _d_a_m_n_ it, and had had it for six _f_u_c_k_ing months, while I was still trying to figure HIS out.
"We each get what we want, but every time we do, Im going to be more and more at a disadvantage," I said, "because what you always want is power. Ill end up being your slave."
"No ones asking you for that. But if you want a feel of my basket, youre gonna have to put that shackle on." Dan said, leaning his hips forward enough so I could smell the sweat on his balls from our little workout. "NAFTA probably sounded kind of like a trap to you, too, but that pussy chaser from Arkansas got smart enough to link us up to the chain gang and weve had nothing but prosperity since."
Hmmmm. I thought. Prosperity for WHOM? And why werent all these congratulations making me feel very proud of my party? Dan must have sensed my mistrust, because he added: "If it makes a difference, you have my word that Ill remove by 5pm today at the latest any and all shackles you put on, and you will be totally free to go home. And I promise I will draw no blood."
I sighed again and weighed the shiny silver restraining implement in the palm of the hand that I so wanted to cup around the cotton that supported Dans _c_o_c_k_ and balls. If I stopped at just one wrist, I thought to myself. But deep down I knew this was as futile as all my vows as a teenager to stop jacking off.. Even if I were an octopus my timidity would ensure that my lust for Dan wouldnt be even halfway satisfied by the time all my limbs were shackled. Meanwhile, Dan would never hesitate to grab as much of my freedom as he could at every opportunity.
A minute later I raised my shackled hand to caress Dans warm, bulging roundness in the center of his tight, lightly sweaty briefs. "Ah," cooed Dan. "Isnt equality fun?"
As I leaned over the back of his living room couch, Dan had to do the honors of shackling my left ankle—my last free limb. Not only were the chains short, but they also forced my legs apart by being passed through a pair of huge metal screw eyes that were tightly screwed upwards into the bottom wood frame of the couch some three feet apart. Once all four limbs were secured, I could not have even raised myself half way to a standing position. As Dan whistled and worked next to me on his naked haunches, wearing just his boots, I was still savoring the lingering taste of my first Republikan penis.
Elephantine as Dans schlong looked and felt when I gradually bartered it out of his briefs and into my mouth, length, not foreskin, was what gave it a trunk-like quality, for it was merely a cut _c_o_c_k_ like mine and those of most other average American boys of our generation. The mans huge ball sack, however, had almost as many dark and delicious wrinkles as a baby pachyderms epidermis. Sucking Dans impeccably clean lightly sweat-salted _c_o_c_k_ was such a Grand Olde Party for me that Im wondering if Ill ever be able to settle for Donkey team dicks ever again. Despite its impressive length and girth I found myself deep throating Dans erect _c_o_c_k_ effortlessly and without a gag reflex for ten precious minutes. Perhaps being bent over helped keep my airway free, but I suspect Dans firm, guiding grip on my ears was a key factor. I mused that if his rough pulling on my ears made me look like Dumbo, then perhaps with the look of a Party mascot I might attract some more hunks of Republikan meat.
Getting to see Dan skin down his tight whites to become naked had cost me the freedom of my left wrist and a stinging lecture on the wisdom of Buschs infamous educational program, No Pupil Left Ungouged. It was worth it. And the tasty _c_o_c_k_sucking Ive already described was certainly worth restraining my right ankle and holding my tongue while Dan blathered on about the necessary restrictions of liberty contained in the odious Patrician Act that congress inflicted on us shortly after those dreadful, lethal attacks on NYC and DC.
I wanted to cry, however, when Dan the Man eventually gave in to his inherent quality of restraint and withdrew his _c_o_c_k_head from my lips with a meaty pop. Mixed with the conservative precum on the tip of my progressive tongue was an impassioned offer of my left ankle to feel a hot sticky Party o Lincoln cumload squirt down my throat, but I managed to keep my head, so to speak, before letting it slip. There was something else, I had discovered in one of my few lucid moments that afternoon, which I wanted from Dan.
"Youre sure you just want to see the file?" Dan asked, stroking his still hard dick in front of my face and sounding a bit wary or perhaps even disappointed at my choice.
"Sorry," I said, in my stupidly liberal apologetic way. "You just really got me curious about those incriminating photos you were bragging about over the beers."
"Okay," said Dan, with a slight sigh. Whatever decadent nastiness he had in store for me later, I knew that the Boi Skout in him would force him to at least stick to our deal, despite the fact that I was now completely chained and could do nothing about it if he balked. As he sauntered away from me towards his office to retrieve the file, I took great pleasure in watching his beautiful, lean form, naked but for the black boots and white socks, receding across the room. I also took some sort of pathetic comfort in the fact that I had in effect stripped Dan buck naked in front of me while remaining fully clothed. But something told me that the symbolic worth of this detail would be soon snuffed out like a ciggy butt in a monsoon.
"Heres the dirt on your hero, Ray Steiner" Dan said, dropping the manila file on the couch cushion in front of me so I could look through it without assistance. As I picked up the file, Dan picked up his briefs and pulled them back on. I was sorry to see the sight of his fine _c_o_c_k_ disappear, but I had other things to look at now.
"I never said he was my hero," I claimed, leafing through the first several innocuous papers in the stack inside the folder. "But as a campaign manager, you have to admit he did a _d_a_m_n_ed good job getting Doug Cramer reelected to the Board of Supervisors."
"Yeah. TOO good a job," smiled Dan as he stepped into his fatigue pants. "I should know. I was George Thompsons campaign manager."
"Wow! I never knew that, but I should have guessed," I said. "I remember seeing your picture in the paper standing next to him."
"Leave it to the liberal press to leave out all the facts they dont care about," Dan said, zipping up his fly.
I rolled my eyes involuntarily at that tired old line, but went on sorting through the paper hoping that Dan hadnt noticed the disrespect. I was searching for the answer to the mystery behind my fellow Demokratic activist Ray Steiners unexplained disappearance on election night in 2002 and his subsequent move out of town. Wed been talking about beer over our beers and somehow the conversation led me to bring up how Steiner had almost ruined the second half of Cramers victory party by failing to show up with the last two kegs the Party had paid for. Dan had almost sprayed his beer laughing at that, but wouldnt explain to me what was so funny.
After much prodding Dan had blurted out that certain members of the local Republikan Party had confronted Steiner with some scandalous photos and had blackmailed him into skipping the victory party, giving Thompsons campaign the beer and leaving town. I scoffed at this, having known Ray to be the straightest of straight arrows in our party, and couldnt believe he would have done anything scandalous enough to warrant giving in to blackmail. Dan claimed he could prove it because he had the file with the photos in his possession, but refused to show it to me or anyone else. An hour later and the honorable conservative had been persuaded to leak the file to me, but so far I wasnt finding anything of interest.
Then I came to the photos.
The first set, arranged in clear plastic pages of six pockets per side, were polaroids, and I could tell from my surroundings that they had been taken in Dans house! I gasped as I recognized the familiar attractive form of Rays cotton Docker-covered ass bent over an equally familiar couch in the exact position that I now occupied. Only Ray was looking back over his shoulder allowing his dark, handsome and frightened face to catch the flash of the camera.
"He actually had the nerve to stop by my house on his way to your party to make sure I had voted," Dan sneered. "The smug tree-hugging prick! I made him regret he ever set foot on my doorstep to gloat"
For all the times I had wished I could see my favorite straight crushs ass when I had watched him across the room at political functions, I got very little pleasure from the next Polaroid, which revealed Rays naked butt in all its hairy, big-bubbled glory, almost exactly as I had pictured it so often while stroking off . There, yanked as far down his strong thighs as his spread legs would allow was a blue pair of plain cotton boxers, which were the kind of underwear I always suspected he wore because of the nice _c_o_c_k_line that always showed through the Dockers. But all I felt now was sorry for the big stud for having crossed Dan and felt a rising dread of my own fate as I watched Rays consequences unfold before me in photo emulsion.
"He was a big man, your pinko friend." Dan said as he reached around my waist to—oh oh!--unbutton my cargo shorts. "Couldnt just throw HIM across my lap and spank his ass like the red haired kid."
I shivered from Dans methodical touch as I stared at the photos in disbelief. In the next my host appeared next to Rays ass displaying a paddle and smiling. Then the paddle appeared raised. Then a contact shot of hard wood smacking into pliable butt flesh. I could almost hear the meaty smack it must have made, and the indignant grunt that Ray would have surely made in response
"I had to FIGHT that son of a bitch. Couldnt just seduce him with my _c_o_c_k_ into playing games, like I could with you," smirked Dan as he yanked down my cargo pants—ulp!-- and then let out a whoop and a wolf whistle as he stood back to take in the surprising view. "Well arent those just the _d_a_m_n_ CUTEST pair of boxers!" he snorted.
"Oh for crissakes," I moaned with embarrassment not just for having to stand there spread-legged in my underwear, but also for the unfortunate choice Id made this morning of which pair to pull on: my red and white vertical stripes with the blue, white-star spangled waist band.
"Is this the new fashion for Demokrats?" asked Dan sarcastically. "Is the idea to see if you can make skid marks on the flag? Hey, you can hang them out on the washing line to show your patriotism," he sneered. "Well, Al, Im afraid theyre going to have to come DOWN, just like your friend Rays did." True to his word, Dan grabbed the gathered waistband of my boxers right at the small of my back and got them yanked them down to just below my butt cheeks when—yikes!—my hardening dick popped out through the fly in the front, exposing my arousal. "Is that how you salute the flag, Al, with your dick?" Dan ridiculed me in my embarrassment. "On second thought, Ive got a better plan for these," he grumbled, and with both hands ripped my silly boxer shorts right in two and completely off of me.
"Hey!" I cried both from the sudden shock of being butt naked AND from the rough yank on my dickhead from when Dan snatched away the shredded shorts.
"Ill be back in a second," winked Dan as he sauntered off towards the kitchen with my destroyed boxers. Puzzled and embarrassed as hell with my bare butt, balls and _c_o_c_k_ all hanging out in the breeze, there was little I could do during Dans absence but continue examining the photos of Rays fate. The next group contained several shots of Rays ass getting progressively redder, and these were interspersed with shots of Rays face, which moved from defiance to anger to pain and finally to tearstained defeat.
"You liberals have got ONE thing right," Dan said as he returned with my stripey shorts bunched in a disposable pie tin in one hand and a bic lighter in the other. "Flag burning can be a mighty effective form of protest!" he grinned, as walked up behind me held the pan behind my ass cheeks and set my poor boxers on fire.
"YEOW!!!!" I screamed, as I tried to stretch up and away from the conflagration by wriggling my hips against the couch and standing up on my tippy toes. I felt the heat of the fireball singe a few of my ass hairs. _d_a_m_n_, he must have drenched them in lighter fluid, the _f_u_c_k_er!
"Would you support a constitutional amendment to ban flag burning?" Dan teased as the flames threatened to lick my ass and kiss my balls.
"YES, YES, OH GOD, YES! HELP!" I cried in panic. "DAN, WATCH IT! MY BUTT CHEEKS! MY NUTS!!!!"
"Youll sign letters to both our state senators stating your support?" Dan lingered at my rear, still applying the heat. "Look into the video camera lense over the TV and tell me you agree to that."
"YES, ANYTHING, YES, DAN PLEASE KNOCK IT OFF! OWWWW!!!" I screamed, too worried about my ass getting burned to care about Dans secret taping just then. Later I would be astounded and appalled to learn that he had captured everything from my voluntary shackling on, including me sucking his _c_o_c_k_.
"Good boy, Al, Ill hold you to that." Dan laughed, withdrawing the smoking hot pan and carrying back into the kitchen, where I could hear the blackened mess hiss under running water in the sink. As I bent over the couch gasping in relief, Dans smoke alarms suddenly triggered, sending out high-pitched squeaks that startled me so much I cried out and emitted a little squirt of piss into the back of Dans couch. "Pipe down, Al, the fire never even touched you!" Dan chuckled as went around shutting the alarms all off with a broom handle. "Im not going to have to gag you, am I?"
I cursed him under my breath as I squirmed from the heat I could still feel on my butt like a nasty sunburn.
"I was afraid Id have to gag Ray but it turned out he was too proud to scream." Dan told me, with some admiration in his voice.
Thinking about Ray again, I turned to the last batch of polaroids taken at Dans house, which were shot from directly in front of the couch.
"Nope," Dan assured me, "Ray never screamed. Not even after I had blistered his butt raw," he said as he soothed my naked butt cheeks with the caress of his cool, dry fingers, "and then _f_u_c_k_ed his straight cherry rump."
My mouth dropped open in shock at these words and at the pictures that showed Rays contorted face and his big, shackled six foot two, 220 pound form slumped forward over the couch as he endured the relentless ass _f_u_c_k_ing thrusts of my short-statured and comparatively bantam weight neighbor, who was grinning savagely for the camera.
"You.....you....f-_f_u_c_k_ed him?" I finally managed to say, too scared and excited to use the "r" word..
"Youre _d_a_m_n_ right I did," Dan replied. "I saw, I conquered, and I came.....man did I come.....right up his yuppie ass."
My emotions were torn in several different directions. The fear, the lust, the anger—at Dans swaggering AND at the other red-necked accomplices he must have needed to help him subdue and photograph poor Ray. "Is th-that what youre g-going to do to me?" I shuddered, even as my now upright _c_o_c_k_ pressed against the rough couch fabric.
Dan laughed and slid a hand between my lightly furred butt cheeks where he—oh baby---tickled my twitching ass pucker with a fingertip. "Oh wouldnt you just LOVE that, Stroker?" Then he laughed and splapped my ass cheeks with a meaty sounding smack. My face reddened all the deeper from his teasing. "My patriotic duty is to punish you, not reward you!" he jeered. Boy, DID he have my number!
"Sorry to disappoint you, Al, but _f_u_c_k_ing your straight man hero up the ass was the perfect way to demoralize him and break his spirit. He WAS your sides best soldier, after all, so it took the heavy artillery to bring him down." He paused and then grinned again. Take a look at how he wound up in the end," Dan said, indicating what appeared to be the last plastic page of photos.
I picked up this group, which were 3 x 5 prints that had been taken with a conventional 35mm flash camera. The first image was an outdoor shot that I recognized as the picnic area of the county access park where the local Republikans traditionally held their outdoor functions, and where they had apparently held Thompsons election night party. Sitting around at picnic tables under a shelter were random fatcats and a few tight assed idealogical dupes that I recognized by face, all drinking beer from plastic glasses. For men who should have been drowning their sorrows over Thompsons defeat, the guys in the photo seemed strangely jubilant. Barely noticeable as a detail in the background, stood a rustic wooden park outhouse and a couple of silver beer kegs.
. The next shot was taken halfway to the outhouse, only now the door was swung open and you could see a glimpse of the toilet seat inside. Striding forward and off to the right was a lanky, bearded man in a feed hat, flannel shirt who was zipping up his fly and laughing at the photographer as if they had just shared a joke. One of the kegs visible in the corner of the frame bore a CRAMER FOR SUPERVISOR sticker. "The stolen beer," I remarked. Dan nodded and just kept grinning, obviously eager for me get to the last of the photos.
The next shot was a flash image taken downward THROUGH the lifted lid opening of the outhouse seat. I was dumbstruck to see, peering up through that oval, the furious, finally gagged face of the securely bound Ray Steiner, DRENCHED in the piss of probably some 200 drunk county Republikans.
"You are a nasty piece of work, Dan" I said grimly, trying not to give him any more satisfaction from my reaction than I had to. "I didnt know conservatives were into watersports."
"Well, this was rather a special occasion for some of us," he snickered. "More importantly though, was that Ray was clearly NOT into golden showers!" Dan giggled rudely at these reminders of his mean revenge while I stared at the final two final photographic images, side by side in the page.
They were clearly taken after Ray had been hauled out of his pissy park prison and made to stand, still bound, against a mock up of a police mug shot wall, complete with height markings. One was straight on, the other a profile in the manner of criminal mug shots. Still dripping with Republikan piss, poor Ray looked like a miserable wet rat. But even then, in his broken, wretched state, Ray remained one of the hottest looking men Id ever known, and seeing him that way made me as sad again as the day he left us for good, without explanation.
"I dont know WHY he was so upset," Dan joked, "Hes lucky nobody felt like EATING that night, after Thompson lost. Anyway, He GOT most of the stolen beer back, sorta, didnt he?"
I put down the photos and glared at Dan. "Youre the one who should be mug shot," I spat at him. "Youre nothing but a _f_u_c_k_ing criminal. A rapist, thief, kidnapper, blackmailer—and a sore loser at that!"
"Oh I think Ray was the one who was SORE--from getting _f_u_c_k_ed" Dan said, continuing to treat it all as a big funny joke, but I cut him off.
"Republikans are nothing but LIARS and CHEATERS, Dan, and you are the worst of them. You know you cant get what you want honestly because people would never stand for it. So you have to do everything underhanded and take unfair advantage and the whole time youre hypocritically portraying yourselves as lovers of democracy! You only love freedom for yourself, no one else!"
Dans face flashed anger, but his body and his speech remained still and calm. "That is the wrong way to look at political reality, Al," he said, crouching down and reaching under the couch, where he pulled out a two foot long, five inch wide polished wood paddle with a six inch wooden handle.
Ulp, I thought. THATs gonna hurt.
"You need a lesson--an attitude adjustment," he assured me, as he walked slowly around the back of the couch carrying the paddle downward at his side. "You WANT an attitude adjustment!" he added, as he reached under my bent waist and seized my hard _c_o_c_k_, which he pulled into a downward position, so it would be uncomfortably trapped behind the back of the couch and exposed between my spread legs..
Ohhhh, _f_u_c_k_, I thought. Me and my big mouth!
"By five oclock this afternoon youll be seeing things OUR way, Al," said Dan the Man, my treacherous, mean, vengeful right wing nut of a neighbor as he raised that smooth, hard paddle into a slow bank swing and swivled his camouflaged hips around like a huge tightening spring of machinery. "But your correction is going to be LONG and SEVERE and PERMANENT."
Yikes!!!! I thought, not liking the ominous sound of that at all.
"Um, Heh heh, Dan, Couldnt we settle this l-l-like reasonable men..?" I begged, trembling so much that I was rattling the shackles and chains.
"Reasonable men could, maybe." Replied Dan as he gritted his teeth to swing. "But TREASONABLE MEN like you, Ray, and that orange-pubed kid unfortunately forfeit the right to a merely rational response from TRUE PATRIOTS like me. So kiss the soft liberal ass youve been sitting around on your whole life GOODBYE, Alan Stroker!" he roared, in his best approximation of Thomas Paine. "My country, my president, my party, my flag and my God, will NOT BE MOCKED!"
End of part 3