Whored out Hard!
Louie's Bar was filled with a hard-drinking rowdy crowd of red-neck ruffians when Reb and Boomer arrived, escorting Analboy with them. The whores well-fucked asshole was still gaping wide open, like some fleshy wet donut. It was red and puffy from the many fuckings it had received and from the lazy fisting Boomer had given it as they had driven over. One look at the crudely lettered sign Reb held up, and the entire bar erupted into whoops and jeers and rough laughter. Analboys ass was in for another workout, a workout even more grueling than the one Reb and Boomer had given it. The night was still early and the Internet Anal whore 'training' was about to escalate to another level!
Reb and Boomer threw the worn out boy face-up onto the pool table, and grabbing his ankles, raised his skinny legs up overhead to expose the swollen, abused asshole to the unruly crowd. "Christ awmighty," someone exclaimed, " that there hole sure looks like it took a beating." "Yeah," but there's still a lot of good fucking left in it," Reb insisted. "Check it out for yourself." Analboy was groggily aware of his butt being inspected and examined like some farm animal at auction. Several rowdy redneck characters were probing and poking at the manhole. Now, it had been violated and used. It belonged, open and vulnerable, to anyone who wanted to play with it or to shove something inside it. The skinny analboy had lost control of his anal ring muscles 15 times already. He groaned in abject misery as the humiliating examination continued, his inspectors commenting lewdly on the merits and shortcomings of the wet and sloppy wide-open asshole. They discussed it as though the Boy attached to it wasn't even present. It made Analboy feel even more like some dumb beast, legs in air, spread wide, helpless.
"Let's warm the bastard up first," someone suggested. "That pretty ass is gonna be shredded into ground hamburger by the time we finish with it. We oughta fix it so's he can stand what we're gonna do to him." They flipped Analboy over onto his belly and inserted a funnel up his butthole. Someone produced a bottle of beer from behind the bar, and emptied it into the funnel. Analboy felt the beer pour into his rectum, the warmth spreading through his belly and groin in a most pleasant way. His eyes had difficulty focusing and his head started to swim. He heard a voice, echoing as if coming from a great distance, saying, "I think it's getting to him. Look at the way he's squirming that butt of his."
The fucking began! The crowd used him mercilessly. Usually two at a time, sandwiching him in between their thrusting bodies, one stiff cock reaming out his asshole while another one buried itself down his throat. The rapists lined up, plunked down their two bucks or their fifty-cents and took what they paid for. And what they paid for was some hot and juicy whores asshole or a wet sloppy blowjob. The evening degenerated into a blur of horny cocks and gallons of jism. Analboy's butt and mouth dripped manjuices, and his shapely asscheeks glistened with sweat and slime. The liquor enema had worked its magic, and the boy lay in a semi-drunken stupor, uncomplaining, while his feminine body was used to service one bull-dick after another, hour after hour.
More than just dicks were used to rape the amateur pornstar. At one point, Analboy felt something cold and unyielding press against his bruised asslips. It was an empty wine bottle. He knew he should try to clench his buttocks shut, to somehow attempt to keep the glass invader from entering his rear end. But the liquor they'd poured into his ass had wiped away all resistance. Meekly he spread his smooth thighs and arched his back, pushing against the bottle neck. He could feel it begin its slow slide in, the cold, glassy length of it bringing an erotic tingle to his guts. The guy shoving the bottle in began to twist and rotate it, touching places inside the boys bowels that no one had ever touched before. The boy moaned, "Yeah...oh, yeah...deeper...please...shove it deeper..." making the circle of onlookers laugh in contemptuous derision. Meanwhile, the bottle in his butt was shoved even further in, sliding inexorably, inch by inch, up the quivering quim. Soon only about a half-inch of the bottle's base was visible, sticking out from between Analboy's firm buns. The sergeant boy his butt up in the air, like a bitch in heat, the short green glass 'tail' sticking out obscenely. Someone placed the heel of a hand against the bottom and pushed. It slid all the way in, the boys puffy asslips closing over it, swallowing it completely!
After Analboy had finished eating out the cyclists's ass, someone reached up into the boys rectum and grabbed the bottle and pulled it out with a juicy 'plop.' Then they lifted the boy back up onto the pool table and spread his knees apart to expose the gasping asshole. "How's about a little game of billiards, Analboy," an unshaven construction worker asked teasingly. He held up one of the billiard balls in his hammy fist. "Eight ball in the corner pocket," he announced with a shit-eating grin, bringing the billiard ball to Analboy's open asshole. It didn't take much pressure to insert the ball up into the unresisting anus. Analboy felt the weight of the heavy ball lodged firmly inside him, and the feel of the foreign object resting there caused his cock to twitch. He groaned as another ball was shoved up his butt, and still another. Before they'd finished, 4 of the heavy enameled balls had been packed into the boys butt. "Okay, guys," the construction worker announced, "let's start the game. High score wins a free fuck off the whore here. Low score has to buy beers for the rest of us." Laughing and shoving, ten rednecks crowded around Analboy's asshole and took turns shoving their fists up into the spread eagled slut, grabbing one of the balls inside him, and pulling it out. Each would check the number printed on the ball he'd just retrieved, wiping off the slimy juices to better see the number. When all the balls had been pulled out of the boys's shitchute, scores were noted for that round. Then the balls were reinserted for the next round. By the time the game ended, Analboy's ass had been packed and emptied a dozen times. Total scores were added up and the stud who'd won the free fuck took his "prize" right there on the billiard table.
A tall lanky cowboy decided that Analboy's ass needed a little additional stretching. He pushed the boy's legs up and back, doubling him over so that his knees came to rest on either side of his head. In this position, Analboy's creamy, femmy ass pointed toward the ceiling, a white unprotected target. The cowboy began to play with the exposed, vulnerable asslips, tweaking the tender tissues, pinching the pink insides, sliding his palms in greasy circles all over the pouty opening. Analboy started to moan and pant with growing excitement. This was the sign the cowboy had been waiting for. He let the first two fingers of each hand slip into the boy's asshole. After the hours of abuse the butthole had endured, Analboy hardly felt the four fingers. However, by the time the cowboy had inserted all ten fingers, the whore was feeling decidedly 'stuffed.' "Agggghhhh," the slut groaned, "oh, God...wait...wait...easy...what are you doing?...no...wait...it's hurting..." "Shhhhhh," the cowboy grinned down at the spasming Analboy, "Relax, fella. I'm about to send you to heaven." Deep inside Analboy's bowels, the cowboy interlaced the fingers of both hands, making one giant, softball-sized fist. "Take a deep breath, little guy," he advised, "You're about to get flown to the moon." With that, he hunched his sinewy shoulders forward and leaned into it, driving both locked-together fists far up Analboy's stretched rectum. Relentlessly the two forearms disappeared up into the femmy butt, all the way to the elbows. Analboy let out a banshee-like yell. "TAKE IT OUT...TAKE IT OUT..." he screamed. "GOD,...YOU'RE KILLING ME...TAKE IT OUTTA MY ASS..." But the cowboy ignored the screams of his impaled victim. His two arms squished in and out of the loose asshole like he was playing in a tub of butter. A greasy froth of slime bubbled around the edges of the stuffed asshole, with the bowel juices from inside the well-plugged whore. "Hmmpf," the cowboy snorted, "this dude's got no clutch left. This asshole ain't fit fer nuthin' 'cept to make chitterlins out of."
By the time the night was over, Analboy's asshole had been fucked to a pulp and his mouth was permanently locked in an open circle. It would be weeks before the boy would be able to walk or to close up his butthole. He was covered with cum and piss and he stunk like a piece of garbage, but his ravishers didn't seem to notice. Still they went at him, pounding dick into his unresisting orifices, ramming fists and dildoes and bottles and balls up his ruined asshole. When last call was finally announced, Reb and Boomer counted up the money they'd collected from selling the boys's services. It amounted to quite a sizable bundle of cash.