Hanging onto that assumption, he ran into an old, graveled playground. Ran? When did he even start running? He toyed with the idea of calling the cops, but that would only take his focus off running, which had the highest priority. The playground seemed bigger than usual, but then he’d never tried to get through it so fast. The sight of the park gate brought a smile to Kyle's lips. Just another turn along the fence and he’d be safe.
A creak came from the shadowed swing a few yards from the exit. It got his blood to freeze and then boil again when he realized someone was sitting on it. An adult. A third fucking clown. This one was wearing an ill-fitting, blue checkered dress that revealed muscled arms and calves. Combined with a pair of red platform boots, the outfit made Kyle think of Dorothy from ‘The Wizard of Oz’. The clown, however, acted nothing like her. The moment he saw Kyle, he smiled and casually stood up, the swing creaked and and the clown moved in his direction.
“Fuck off, yeah? You want my stuff? Take it!” Kyle threw his bag to the ground and took a nervous glance behind his shoulder to see where the other two clowns were. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He was pissing his pants. Both of his ways out were now blocked by three super-creepy guys who circled him like a pack of hungry wolves. The eerie atmosphere of the children’s playground on a foggy night didn’t help him make a coherent decision, because if this were a prank --and it was Halloween after all-- he’d end up making an ass out of himself if he ran. Shit, what did they even want?
The clown in drag picked up Kyle’s messenger bag and hung it across his chest without even stopping. With no way out, Kyle took a few steps back, towards the metal fence. With his stomach clenched as if someone kicked him in the gut, he was panting in fear, his brain refusing to deliver anything other than ‘run you stupid fuck’. Great. It looked like he’d end up murdered by a bunch of clowns on Halloween. That would definitely make the headlines, even if they didn’t mark his shallow grave with colorful balloons.
That image tore Kyle out of his stupor. He dashed for the fence with his eyes focused on his goal, the empty street visible between the bars. He’d never ran that fast in his life and in this haste, he almost slipped on a pulp of wet leaves, but it only slowed him down for a split second. With manic laughs becoming louder, Kyle grabbed the top bar of the fence. His shoes kept slipping down the wet metal and just as panic hit the breaking point, he finally managed to climb up. The lack of any spikes on top got his hopes up that maybe, just maybe, if he pulled himself up fast enough, he could be on the other side within seconds. At least he didn't risk stabbing himself on sharp, pointy metal. If he did, it’d be the most ironic thing ever. Dan's sarcasm wouldn't stand a chance.
Kyle's relief was short lived, as before he’d even managed to scramble on top of the fence, two sets of hands yanked him back and he heard the unmistakable sound of tearing fabric. He refused to let go of the bars, trying to focus on the dark treetops above him, not cackling clowns. The street disappeared from sight when one of them tugged at the collar of his jacket.
“Let go, you crazy fucks!” He tried to hold on, but eventually, his sweaty fingers gave up, and he fell into a broad, male chest. Muscled arms closed around him like a vice and his mind filled with images of those guys cutting him up into little pieces, of his eyeballs popping between their face-paint stained teeth. That was what crazy clowns did, right?
A gloved hand gripped the lower part of Kyle's face, muffling his cries. The sharp sound of duct tape was an unmistakable sign that they didn’t intend to kill him here. Maybe they wanted to torture him, tickle his feet with feathers until he pissed himself? Kyle knew Dan would be out looking for him if he didn’t return home within fifteen minutes and didn’t answer his phone. Maybe he’d be saved? But what if the clowns took them both?
He fought back, thrashing like a terrified animal as they pulled him further away from the fence, but all his incoherent kicks proved useless against three brutes who seemed to well know what they were doing. Frighteningly well. The one who’d followed him from the beginning was especially proficient at dodging hits while he secured Kyle's ankles together with duct tape. Kyle imagined this one was some fucked up ex-soldier, sent back home because of severe mental problems. His mask covered only the upper half of his face, with the lower coated in a layer of face paint so thick it reminded Kyle of a heavily glazed donut.
Once they got him down, onto the pavement, they yanked his jacket off and he curled up from the wet, piercing cold. He didn’t even fight when the clowns taped his wrists in front of his body just as tight as the legs. Seconds later, he was on the ground, with a rough hand clinging to his face like some kind of alien parasite. He couldn’t stop a violent shudder when the freezing water soaked through his shirt.
He broke out in tears and, within seconds, could barely breathe. From his position on the ground, he got a glimpse under the dress of the guy in drag, and it only made him more sweaty. Dorothy wasn’t a fan of underwear. Kyle could no longer suppress a sob that built up in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, violent shudders going through his body as he laid in the wet grass. Everything became oddly silent and then, a rough finger traced his cheekbone.
Kyle cringed away from it, trying not to fall apart at their feet. Would they cut off his cheeks? Lock him up somewhere? With his mouth blocked, he tried to mumble something through the meaty hand clasped over his face, but it was useless. He was trapped.
It took a while for him to realize that no one was manhandling him anymore, the touch on his cheek, and even the hand that still covered his mouth, were gentle. He opened his eyes, afraid that this unexpected change of heart was merely the silence before the storm. The sinister pranksters loomed over him, silent, as if waiting for a sign, their eyes on the clown who cupped Kyle’s face. Trying to even out his hitching breath, Kyle turned his attention to him as well, and was surprised to see the clown leader holding his bare forearm up. As if he was trying to tell him something.
He didn’t register the small tattoo at first, but when the assailant shifted his hand enough to get it illuminated by the street lamp, Kyle recognized a tiny depiction of the Eiffel Tower. He knew only one person with ink like that. The man with whom he wanted to travel to Paris one day.
Dan. The fucker.
Kyle slumped into the grass, his muscles turning to goo at the sudden realization that he was safe. He couldn’t believe his own boyfriend would prank him like that. The bastard had caught him totally off guard. He must have put up that poster to pre-freak him out. Once the reality sunk in, Kyle was torn between anger and relief; between the urge to laugh and cry. Despite the horror he'd just been through, he had to admit he appreciated the effort. Getting a peek under the hem of Dorothy's dress had a different connotation now that he knew no harm was coming his way.
Dan, who was the ‘chubby’ clown that followed him from the start, showed Kyle a pair of plain briefs, which he then pressed against his open mouth to replace Mohawk's hand. Forced inside with a piece of bandage that Dan fastened behind Kyle’s head, they were an effective makeshift gag.
Did that mean they had more in store for him? Kyle felt his face flush in shame at the thought that he’d turned into a puddle of sobbing jello in such a short time. But come on, it was clowns. Freaking creepy clowns.
He tried to focus on their faces, but it was too dark to see much. Feeling bold, he arched his neck to take another look under Dorothy's skirt. The guy had such a raging hard on, he didn't need a petticoat to lift the front of his dress and Kyle could envision that becoming a new fashion. That was when it hit him. Maybe this wasn’t just a prank. He and Dan had talked about Kyle's fantasies of doing a gangbang many times, but never actually arranged anything beyond a threesome. Even if Kyle was getting the wrong idea, this prank had sure got his adrenaline rushing.
The beefiest clown, the one with a mohawk, swung Kyle over his shoulder, giving him a loud pat on the ass, which brought him close to hyperventilating through his nose. Kyle closed his eyes for a se
cond, feeling his cock harden against the stranger's shoulder. The guy was even bigger than Dan. His gut feeling couldn't lie. It was finally gonna happen. Fear was still lingering all over his body like the cold sweat on his back, but Kyle was slowly easing into the situation. The fact that he had absolutely no idea who the other guys were had his adrenaline levels skyrocketing. And this time, it was a good king of adrenaline rush. God, Dan knew him so well.
The clowns marched out of the park, straight toward a van parked close to the entrance. It was average looking, with no side or back windows. The streets were deserted, but the group still moved quickly. Kyle sucked on the clean cloth in his mouth, enjoying the way he felt relaxed and tense at the same time. The guy who carried him kept roaming his hand over Kyle’s thighs and buttocks, teasing him, squeezing his flesh through the soaked sweatpants. He had a nice ass himself and Kyle was enjoying the view, as the guy was the only one wearing tight trousers. Kyle tensed his butt against the rough fingers, getting that nervous tingle from being manhandled. He wanted to purr.
“You got today’s prop?” asked someone Kyle couldn’t see, and before he managed to spot the new guy, they went into the dark back compartment of the van. Mohawk slouched and threw him onto a thick mattress in one fluid motion. With only the front seats in place, there was plenty of room for play in the back.
Kyle was catching quick breaths through his nose, as he looked up at the bulky figures towering above him. The masks and face paint were still freaking him out, but his cock was already tenting the front of his pants. He wasn't even sure if he was more excited by the thrill of the mock-kidnapping, or by the idea of his boyfriend watching him get fucked by a bunch of strangers. He knew Dan loved to be reminded just how much Kyle was desired by others, and situations that would make most people mad with jealousy sent Dan into a sexual frenzy.
Dorothy came in last, and he closed the double doors behind him with a wild cackle. He sounded and looked like a proper madman. “Look what the cat brought in.” He dropped onto the mattress and crawled closer to Kyle to feel him up.
Kyle mumbled through the gag and looked up at Dan, curious of what he had planned. He trusted his boyfriend enough to know he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him, which meant Kyle could relax and just let the fantasy take hold. He briefly took in his surroundings, spotting a colorful box behind the driver's seat and a few red balloons tied to a side-handle to keep them from floating to the ceiling.
Kyle’s attention focused on the clowns again when he felt the mattress give in under someone’s weight. It was Dan, looming over him, his large hand gently cupping Kyle’s crotch, but it was obvious he wanted a definite answer whether he should let the scene continue. Kyle’s heart leapt in excitement at the realization that all of this was merely a stunt and it would go the way he wanted. All those guys were waiting for his decision on whether he wanted to get fucked or not.
Slowly, Kyle looked into Dan’s eyes and gave him a nod. That was when he noticed a fourth clown, the one they met by the car, kneeling by the closed doors with his arms folded. In his mind, Kyle nicknamed him ‘Green’ because of his emerald wig. He was short, but muscular, like all of them. Dan must have had some good source for such quality stock of studs.
Mohawk rolled Kyle over to his stomach and unceremoniously yanked his sweatpants and boxer shorts down to his ankles in one smooth motion. Unwilling to cut the tape, he just left the garments pooling around Kyle's ankles. There was something primal about that kind of treatment and Kyle arched into the rough touch. They didn't treat him like he was a person. No, he was their shared sex doll, more a collection of holes than anything else. Even thinking about it made his insides tingle.
“That’s one fine ass,” said one of the clowns, squeezing Kyle’s buttock along with Dorothy who kneaded the other one in a circular motion.
Kyle inhaled deeply through his nose. He was getting hot and sweaty just from being exposed and physically overpowered. He tensed up his buttocks, eager to feel their crude touch on his skin.
“Don’t worry boy, we’ve got all night!” Dan laughed hoarsely. Kyle loved his deep voice and big hands. His breath hitched when he felt the van’s engine start with a loud hum. Someone got onto the mattress close to his face and he felt a rush of arousal. His stomach contracted with excitement as he envisioned them all taking turns at his ass over and over. The bulge pressing into the back of his scalp was creme de la creme of the experience and he couldn't stop a strangled moan. He didn’t even mind the stuffy, vinegary smell of the mattress. If anything, it only made him more involved in the scene.
Kyle’s pulse quickened. The fact that he didn’t know who it was, got him even hotter. Random cocks, ready to fuck him, every single one of those guys hot for his ass. He took a deep breath through his nose and tried to struggle, rising to his knees with his head still trapped. A large hand unceremoniously pushed his hips down into the mattress. His body was being fondled like it was just a slab of meat. Rough fingers spreading his ass and thighs as far as they would go with Kyle’s ankles still bound, forcing his knees apart. He bit into the cotton briefs, squirming to grind his cock against the rough fabric of the mattress, but the clowns wouldn’t let him. The guy who straddled his head slowly rocked his erection against the back of Kyle’s scalp, while another one pushed a thumb between his clenched buttocks, rubbing it over the dry opening.
Because of the sheer amount of people, everything seemed to be happening so fast. He could just imagine that muscular guy humping his head like an overexcited dog. Kyle let out a nasal moan at the touch to his anus and trembling cheeks, trying to crawl away just to aggravate the clowns even further. Not that he had anywhere to go, even if he actually wanted to. With the slight shaking, it was clear the van was moving, and he wondered whether they would all fuck him on the way to wherever it was they were going. His stomach contracted with lust as he envisioned them all taking turns at his ass over and over. Maybe they would even make a game out of it, with the quickest to cum being the loser.
The finger withdrew from his cleft and as soon as it was gone, one of the clowns delivered a harsh slap to Kyle’s buttocks, forcing a surprised mewl out of him. He couldn’t help but rub the back of his head against the hard dick that kept teasing his sensitive scalp. He loved this more than he had ever imagined. He could smell their excitement and could only hope this scent would remain with him for days.
“You ready to fuck our little prop? Look at that tight red ass. He’s no virgin.” Another strike left his skin tingling all the way to his neck.
“He’s going to be even less of a virgin when our driver gets his turn.” Green sneered towards the front of the van.
Kyle managed to hear the response through a choir of howls. “At least he will be well-lubed by then.”
Kyle wondered if that was a preference or did the guy lose some kind of bet to end up behind the wheel.
“I wanna feel him up first. Don’t like shoving it in places I haven’t examined before.” Kyle recognized Dorothy by his particularly hoarse voice. Kyle could bet he was a smoker. The clown who straddled him slid off of Kyle’s head and pulled it up by his short hair.
Kyle panted, looking straight at the bulging front of Mohawk’s polka dot trousers. With only his wrists bound, he could easily support himself on his elbows.
“You feel him up all you want, while I examine this pretty mouth. You hungry for clown dick?” Mohawk laughed and snapped open the top button of his trousers and unzipped the fly in one smooth slide.
“He must, ‘cause he’s trembling like some freaking chihuahua. I think the slut wants it both ways!” Another slap on the ass.
Kyle couldn’t take his eyes off the thick, gorgeous cock in front of him. Mohawk shoved his trousers lower, slowly stroking himself inches away from Kyle’s face, his thick fingers moving over the reddened flesh.
“You want that cock, slut?”
If it wasn't a scene, he'd probably suck that fat prick right in, but he loved putting up a b
it of a fight, to have his partners show him where it was that he belonged. So he inched backwards, though that only meant he was pushing his ass like an offering towards Dorothy and Green who kept playing with his backside. One of them fondled his balls, pulling at the little hairs and making him squirm, but his rock-hard cock got ignored.
Dan walked into his line of vision. His mask only covered the upper side of his face and on the bottom half, red paint was smudged into a wide, fake smile which only made his low voice seem more sinister. “Listen, boy. I’ll take your gag out. You scream, and we cut your nose off, get it?”
Dorothy's cackle resonated throughout the van, making a gruesome soundtrack. Kyle looked up to his boyfriend. It was all for play, but those words still made him go cold. One of the guys behind him chose that moment to push a lubed finger into Kyle’s anus, breaking the spell and sending his face into Mohawk’s crotch. If he wasn’t hard already, the musky smell would’ve had him stiff within seconds. The clown gasped, the head of his prick pulsing against Kyle’s cheekbone, hot and wet.
“Oh shit, what an eager bitch!”
Dan pulled out the makeshift gag. “Yeah? Your jaw stretched wide enough to take it, boy?”
Kyle moaned in answer when the thumb crooked inside of him. He was so overwhelmed it was hard to focus on one sensation at a time. He turned his face towards the thick cock, kissing its side and then nuzzling the hairless base with a content whimper, but got a slap from Dan for that display of affection.
“No one wants your filthy mouth on there, bitch. Wait till you’re asked.”
Kyle gave him a curt nod and couldn’t help but arch his hips up at the touch inside his anus. The probing was random and hasty, but he loved the sensation of something stretching him, moving inside his hole, so he didn’t mind it all that much. His mouth watered when he saw Dan opening a condom packet and then stretching the bright blue sheath over Mohawk’ cock. His boyfriend was preparing another guy to fuck him. The sole notion made Kyle’s prick twitch.
Crazy Kinky Dirty Love Page 11
