(I'm sorry for my English)
When i was young, since 7-8 y.o to 12-13, i got satisfactions from doing so becouse of not knowing to get its others way https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOkIDPDo...oQ&index=9
It's not me certainly, insofar as there were no video cameras in the late 80s
May be not so obvious, he use needles at 02:01
I used ( at my 7-13 y.o)screwdriver to reach the goal
There was no finesse to this encounter. It was your basic animal scrap. Six of them against four of us. Despite the fact we were two men down, we had the advantage, positioned as were were amongst some wrecked farm buildings. They had only the undergrowth and the odd tree stump behind which to lie or crouch.
A few of our younger opponents seemed reluctant to come out of cover, and when they did their faces betrayed that feeling we’d all had the first time: a thrilling mix of arousal melded with anxiety about just how much pain that first fast-flying pellet might inflict when it hit skin.
Then there were others for whom this unique kind of cock-fight was a practised art. One of the older ones, proudly sporting the midnight blue beret of his cadet unit, crouched on one knee in the open, brazenly exposing himself to our fire as he carefully squeezed off round after round. He wore a sepulchral smile, already in a state of near ecstasy.
Every few minutes there would be a sudden slackening of fire, inevitably followed by a succession of groans as victor and vanquished alike relieved himself from the pent-up tension that a duel between two testosterone-pumped adolescents inevitably created.
About thirty metres away one of the younger kids was taking cover in the undergrowth, popping up occasionally to get a shot off at me. He seemed annoyingly professional, perhaps tutored by an older brother more experienced in our secret little game. He wore a khaki beret bearing the insignia of his cadet unit, which he had blackened over a candle flame to dull the shine. He had smothered his face and hands with camouflage cream and broken up the lines of his rifle with twigs and leaves. He also took care to change his position between each shot, something few beginners did, to their cost.
He seemed to be growing in confidence with each shot. My cock began to tumesce. ‘Fucking prick-tease,’ I thought, my admiration for his skill melding with selfish appreciation for the extended prequel he was affording me before my explosive climax.
After a few minutes of this I became painfully aware that I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself any longer. Pre-cum was already soaking into the crotch of my combat trousers. He must have been in the same predicament himself, maybe more so given his inevitable lack of experience at eking out pre-climactic pleasure. So I made sure that the next time the cocky little bastard exposed himself, I was ready for him.
A minute or so later his blackened face once again appeared, and along with it his spring-powered air rifle, which looked oversized in his hands. I briefly toyed with the thought of a headshot, but I aimed at his right shoulder instead: we all knew that if any of us lost an eye it would spell an end to our game for good.
My finger took up the slack. Then, holding my breath to keep my aim true, I squeezed the trigger until I heard the pop and felt the slightest of recoils. Barely a quarter of a second later I heard the ‘thwack’ of the pellet hitting the fabric of my target’s combat jacket.
There was a slight yelp of pain, followed almost instantly by a prolonged groan of sheer ecstasy. For an instant he looked directly at me. I could see from his expression of unbridled joy that this was his first time. I grinned back, grateful for the sport he had given me.
And what sport it was! I was paralysed by an explosive wave of pleasure the like of which I’d never felt before. I rolled over onto my side and with my right hand clumsily pulled my engorged cock out of my combats, prolonging the joy with rhythmic strokes until my balls were empty. A I looked down to see a puddle of hot cum already dissolving into the mud of the farmyard. Then I scanned the treeline for my next dueling partner.
Similar story-line, but I modified the photos to be less graphic.
Youths from all over the Province dreamed of being a member of the King's Guard. It was an elite group with membership lasted until death. The guards were allowed no possessions. Clothing of any kind was prohibited. They lived, trained and fought naked in service to the king.
At the annual tournament, prospective inductees were pitted against each other on the parade grounds. Spectators cheered each round of fights, often to a near frenzy. The rules called for a bout to stop at first blood, but the rules were seldom enforced.
Such was the case when Atticus made his attempt at joining the guard. He was matched against Brutus. They sparred evenly at first, almost like a theatrical dance.That was about to change. Suddenly Brutus struck. The crowd fell silent, but only for a moment. Atticus felt the three blades pierce his belly, with the topmost point entering near his navel. He felt the release of his final wad of cum, and knew it was his best ever. Hearing the crowd cheer to a frenzy and beyond, Atticus knew he would be remembered.
Brutus went down on his knees, took the dying Atticus in his arms, and kissed him gently. He then whispered, "They knew we were lovers when they matched us They told us that if we didn't fight to the finish, they would kill our families. I swear to you, Atticus, now that I am a member of the king's guard, I will bide my time, and when I get the opportunity, I will kill the king. This I promise you."
Accepting. Young. Proud. Arrogant. Lusting for gut pain. GUT UP !!!!!
How much can they take_ how well will they take it_ knife. Bullet. Darts. Drill. Machete. Dull blade which will take longer and cause more pain. Be creative. Time to carve the meat and it is waiting.
