"How about if we try something different today!" said Dylan Burroughs, producing first a tube of KY from his backpack, and then a couple of lengths of rope.

"Huummm, let me guess.", replied Lyle Reynolds, wondering just what Dylan had in mind.

It was mid-Fall and the ground is covered with a cushion of dead leaves and pine needles. There were large ferns everywhere. Every so often a mushroom could be seen poking itself up through the dark rich loam. It was the sprawling, very impressive Burroughs Estate; and winding throughout this landscape of tall trees and bushes, there flowed the mile-long rocky stream named Branford Creek. The two playful, twenty-year-old friends frolicked there on the sturdy, twelve-foot bridge that spanned Branford Creek. At this particular point the water was almost eight-feet deep and crystal clear. Dylan and Lyle, having known each other since early childhood, are now in their second year at college. Dylan was the rich, privileged one; Lyle was the son of a small hardware store owner down on South Main Street. And despite Dylan's father's frequent protestations against Dylan's friendship with the "town-trash" Lyle Reynolds, the two boys have forged an extremely solid and remarkable friendship over the years. During the past year, Dylan has constantly teased Lyle about them having a Gay experience together. But with Dylan being the constant funster, Lyle has never taken him too seriously; and for whatever any other reasons, it just never happened. But, today, is the day that Dylan has resolved to have that sexual liaison with his handsome best friend.

"Oh, I know," began Lyle, laughing, "...you want me to ram some of that rope up your poop-chute and then give it tug while you're climaxing, right; sort of a version of that old Oriental bead trip?"

"Hey mister, the only thing I want up my ass is your cock." Dylan shot back.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." chortled Lyle, "All right, I give up, what's the rope for?"

"For tying me to the bridge.......before you fuck me."

From behind a mask of total surprise Lyle replied, "You're kidding!?"

"What? You've never had anyone tie you up and then screw you?" retorted Dylan with mock sincerity.

"Ah, nope......just can't say that I have...at least not that I remember"

"Well, you don't know what you're missing. It adds an entirely new dimension to the sex. Hey, its not just women who secretly yearn to be conquered, subjugated, and then raped."

"Man, you're making me horny, you know that, don't ya?" Lyle said, wondering if he should be willing to go along with this without just a small bit of protest. After all, if they were going to have sex, wasn't plain old sex good enough between two friends when they liked each other as much as he and Dylan did? But hell, it was all just game-playing anyway, wasn't it? And this was just another aspect of Gay sex, so why should he knock it before he tried it?

"Give me that rope you, stupid-ass slave. I'll tie you to this bridge and fuck the shit out of you so fucking hard and fast that you'll wish you'd never even suggested this!" demanded Lyle, playfully.

"Promises, promises!" Dylan said, beaming a radiant grin. His lips, full and sensuous, pulled back over a line of large white teeth. His left cheek dimpled delightfully, giving his masculinely handsome features a breathtaking boyish quality that both men and women found hard to resist. He had high cheek bones, a classical nose that came right down from his forehead in a perfectly straight line. He had a deep cleft in his chin, a square jaw line. He had wide-set gray eyes that were nicely separated by the bridge of his nose. His long lashes and eyebrows were almost brown in color, while the hair on his head was a rich tawny shade of blonde.

Lyle on the other hand, fit the typical description of tall dark and handsome, without being typical in the least. His dark hair and china-blue eyes made him original. The rest of his face was an interesting, perfectly-balanced combination of sheer masculine beauty. And the fact that his handsome face came accompanied by a body that had all the rock hardness of a male, minus any feminine softness, only made Lyle all the more attractive. Since early puberty both males and females were drawn to Dylan and Lyle like bees to honey or moths to the flame. And both of them rather quickly became aware of their own power.

The two friends now slowly stripped down to the bare facts. Lyle liked the rectangular pectorals etched in Dylan's chest, and the coral, dime-sized nipples haloed by glistening sprigs of blonde hair. Lyle also liked the scalloped pattern Dylan's abdominals made on each side of his friend's belly, leaving an irregular wash-boarding effect from Dylan's chest right on down to his crotch.

Dylan liked the way Lyle's pubic hair sprouted around the roots of Lyle's cock, the way Lyle's cock was long, and smooth, and circumcised, and unveined. He liked the way Lyle's testicles, large and bull-like, hung suspended in their magnificent scrotum.

Kicking his clothes aside, Dylan leaned over the side of the bridge, bringing his arms up beneath the handrail so that the inside bending of his arms at his elbows hooked the post from beneath. Lyle tied Dylan's arms so that his wrists were brought as far back up toward his biceps as was possible.

"And I'm supposed to be some conquering Italian who's come marching into Scandinavia, pillaging and raping...!?" began Lyle, securing yet another knot, "...and I've just knocked the shit out of you in battle, and am now preparing to take my lusty just-rewards, eh!?"

"Hey, you bastard...you're a natural at this, aren't you?" chuckled Dylan.

Checking to make sure the ropes weren't tied too tightly, to possibly cut off circulation, Lyle then, as if by instinct, raised his hand and hauled off and gave a good hard slap across the cheeks of Dylan's muscled, perfectly-shaped ass. "Next time, bring a whip, you bastard, and I'll beat your ass raw."

Lyle was only speaking partially in jest; the idea of turning Dylan's blond ass-flesh red with a whip was somehow exceptionally exciting. And in direct response to Lyle's highly erotic imagery, his cock-eye drooled a huge tear of pre-seminal juices. A jerking of his turgid cock neck caused the beading liquid to lose its cohesion. The syrupy, clear liquid began its sticky progression down along the pulpy dome of Lyle's cock head.

"Oh, God, don't hurt me....don't hurt me! Please!" wailed Dylan with such skillful persuasion that he actually had Lyle believing that the love-slap to his bare ass had really been excruciatingly painful.

"Christ, I really didn't mean to hurt you!" apologized Lyle, noticing his handprint had emerged in pink on Dylan's beefy buttocks.

"Oh, shit, come on, Lyle, don't take me seriously!" charged Dylan, laughing, "I'm merely getting into the mood of things. If you hurt me...REALLY HURT ME...you'd know it!"

"Oh, really? Would I, now?" Lyle asked, having a sudden insight as to just how helpless Dylan really was, if he decided to do something really kinky.

"Sure you would"

"I don't know..."

"But, I do!", Dylan confidently replied, "I'm the one who let you tie me up, aren't I? And do you think I'd let any Tom, Dick or Harry truss me up like a pig off to the slaughter? Christ, no! There's lots of people I've known most of my life who I wouldn't trust to have me bound and helpless here or anywhere else. But I KNOW you. Believe me there are guys in this world, who seem like perfectly "okay" dudes under normal sexual situations, but can turn into real Dr. Jekylls once they realize they've got you completely under their control"

"Humm..Well, Dr. Jekyll is now going to fuck your humpy ass, my slave.... my Sabine slave!", said Lyle, giving a low rendition of a beastly growl. Then, giving Dylan's ass cheeks another hearty whacking, much harder than before.

"Oh, Christ, not my ass! Not my virgin asshole!"

"Virgin asshole, huh", Lyle groaned, his cock stretching and straining. Lyle thought that if he didn't know better, he might even believe it himself, by the timbre in Dylan's voice, that he was really going to "rape" his friend's asshole. Lyle shuddered with intoxicating lust at the idea. Slowly he grew breathtakingly fired and possessed by the idea of rape!

"Pleeeeeeeez, no! Pleeeez, don't! God!......not my ass, I'll do anything.... ANYTHING!... but please don't rape my ass!"

Lyle knelt to retrieve the tube of KY that Dylan had left lying on the bridge. He removed the cap and squeezed out a long, slug-like length of the clear lubricating jelly.

"You want me to dry-fuck that virgin ass of yours, slave?" Lyle asked, while simultaneously working his eager fingers in between Dylan's ass cheeks and wiping the KY onto his cute pucker. "Want me to stab my cock up your ass so hard and fast that the friction of my dry cock ripping inside your dry bowels will burn our flesh to a crisp?"

"Your cock is TOO big to fuck my ass!", Dylan said, punctuating the statement with a grunting groan as Lyle's finger shoved up deep inside his fiery asshole, "You're....too....fucking.....big!"

"If you think my finger is too big, buster boy, then you've really got a surprise coming" groaned Lyle, twisting his finger in order to spread a slicking of KY along the bowel in preparation for his big dick that would soon follow.

Lyle continued finger-fucking Dylan's ass for several more minutes, slowly driving in deeper and deeper. He relished the way Dylan's asshole slickly and tightly clung to his invading finger. The anal corridor seemed deceptively small; certainly too small to take the total length and circumference of his wagging monster. Finally he pulled his finger out of that enticing asshole. He squeezed a worm of KY into the palm of his hand. Recapping the tube, he gave the flattened metal container a toss that expertly dropped it into the backpack.

Lyle wrapped his cock with his hand, corkscrewing his fist around his prick so that the KY was smeared to a glossy veneering along the length of his turgid stiffness. His hand felt pretty damn good stroking his cock; but knew that Dylan's asshole was even going to feel one hell of lot better. He used his left hand to spread Dylan's ass cheeks, revealing the brown wrinkle of his friend's pucker. Carefully, Lyle moved in closer, pushing down along the neck of his cock until its rubbery head entered the upper edge of Dylan's crease.

"Oh, God, please don't fuck my ass! Please!", cried Dylan, straining at his ropes. Again, he sounded as if he were actually about to get his rectum brutally raped.

Lyle pushed his cock deeper along the ass crack. His KY-smeared cock glans wiped more of its jelly on Dylan's buns. Lyle's cock-eye drooled a thin string of translucent juice that looked like clear syrup. Lyle was excited; really excited. This gay sex thing is really a turn-on thought the handsome twenty-year-old. And the gay-sex thing turn-on was also compounded by the fact that his best friend, heir to multi-millions of dollars, was completely physically helpless. And that seemed to somehow empower him to feel more powerful, stronger, more virile...his head was dizzy with over-otherness.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez!", Dylan groaned, feeling Lyle's pulpy cockhead nuzzling his spasming pucker.

"Want it, don't you, bastard?" Lyle taunted, rubbing his pulpy cock glans back and forth along Dylan's pucker, leaving more natural pre-seminal lubricant to icing the brown and wrinkled anal eye.

There were blond hairs lining the crease of Dylan's ass. The blond hair had gone dark as it became more saturated with moisture. It stuck to the curving of Dylan's ass cheeks.

Lyle was delaying; he was hesitating. He really wanted to just wildly buck his hips forward and ravage Dylan's ass like a rampaging Great Dane in heat. But he was hesitating because there's an exquisite, almost painful pleasure to be had from delaying.

"I'm going to plug your virgin ass, you slave!" growled Lyle.

"No..!" Dylan cried, "No...no....no....no!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Lyle insisted, leaning his cock on Dylan's asshole, feeling and seeing Dylan's pucker concave beneath the pressure. And then, against the tip of his cock head, Lyle felt the sphincter ring rolling open to reveal the asshole beyond.

"Too Big!", Dylan protested, "Goddam Bastard....you...are....toooo...FUCKIN'...Big!"

"Ssssshhhh!", soothed, Lyle, "Relax....just relax!"

"I cant!". Dylan grunted, "I can't!"

"You will!", chortled Lyle, "Take my word for it, you will!"

"OH, my God.....my God.....I'm ripping!"

And if Lyle didn't know better, if he wasn't able to see and feel for himself that Dylan's asshole wasn't ripping, he would have easily believed that the young guy's bowel was beginning to fissure. Damn, thought Lyle, the bastard should be on the big screen. Not only did Dylan Burroughs look like a fucking movie star; but he sure as hell had the acting ability to back it up. How real he was making this all seem; how very, very real.

"Oh, Jesus!", Dylan gutturally wailed as his ass-mouth slipped open to completely enclose Lyle's beefy dickhead; his sphincter ring clamped like a rubber band around the groove of Lyles flaring cock head.

"Aiiiyyeee! DAMN! You're mine, now, you bastard, your mine!" hoarsely chortled Lyle, placing both his hands on Dylan's hipbones in preparation for shoving his dick in even deeper, "And whether you want your precious ass stuffed with my man dick, or not, you're going to get it...hard....deep...and long!"

Lyle, holding tight to Dylan's hips, pushed his cock in deeper, feeling the sensuous grip of Dylan's asshole as it clung hotly, tightly and moistly to his lubricated cock, like flypaper to a thick finger.

"Aaaaaaaaaghhhrrrrrrrr!", Dylan breathlessly voiced as if he were yet uncertain whether it was pain or pleasure that Lyle's cock was diffusing throughout his body.

When it all began, Lyle had really intended to feed his cock-meat slow and easy up into Dylan's rectum. But that "power, stronger, more-virile" thing had his brain in a total swirl, and he wasn't quite sure just when he decided to fiercely stab in the rest of his rigid meatiness in one, brutal, stab.

Whatever primitive, animalistic drives took hold of him, it caused Lyle's hips to savagely buck forward, pounding his thick, steel-like truncheon deep inside Dylan's bowel.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!", it was Lyle's lips this time that gave forth a breathless sigh. But even before his sounding of exquisite pleasure was finished, Dylan had joined in.

"Ugghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Dylan echoed; delirious from Lyle's quick insertion having caught him completely, and pleasantly, off-guard.

Lustily, Lyle ground his lower belly into Dylan's muscular buns, pressing indents into the creamy flesh with his curling bush of pubic hair. He leaned forward so that his chest mated with Dylan's back. Lyle's nipples were hard; chafing against Dylan's muscled back. He laid his left cheek on Dylan's shoulder. He turned his mouth to Dylan's left ear, "I'm going to fuck your ass, bastard. I'm going to screw your guts to mush!"

"Yes,", Dylan groaned, "Yes, yes, yes!"

Swiftly, Lyle ran both his hands inward and downward along Dylan's hard belly, locating Dylan's hard cock with his right hand - and Dylan's cum-bloated testicles with his left hand.

"I'm going to screw your ass so deep you'll think my prick has penetrated all the way up to your throat!", Lyle hotly declared, "And I'm going to beat your fat, blood-hardened meatiness until it spits out enough cream to make the stream below flow white!"

"Oh, yes, Lyle, rape my ass, dammit RAPE it!", Dylan crowed, tightening and then relaxing his ass muscles so that his bowels vibrated along the total length of Lyle's submerged meatiness, "Rape my cock with your hand!"

"Rape, it is!" grunted Lyle loudly, pulling back his hips so that his cock withdrew until the head was the only part still jabbed up Dylan's clutching rectum. Lyle's right hand then slid up the long, streamline neck of Dylan's cock; his left hand closed in on Dylan's testicles, rolling the cum-bulged gonads within their enclosing bag of blond-haired scrotal flesh. His fingertips could detect the sperm-carrying cords that were contained within the sex bag along with Dylan's heavy balls.

"Rape!", Lyle growled, fiercely shoving his hips forward, driving his lower belly to a primordial mating with Dylan's ass, causing a loud smacking noise similar to lightening striking a tree in the forest.

Lyle's right hand dropped along the length of Dylan's cock neck, the heel of his fist mashing against the blond curling hair that sprouted lushly at Dylan's groin, mashing against the cushion offered by Dylan's contrasting scrotum.

"Jesus, Lyle, Jesus...!", Dylan rapturously groaned, the game now being momentarily forgotten as a pleasurable aching resulted from the jabbing of Lyle's stiff penis into Dylan's walnut-sized prostate.

Lyle could only moan his reply. His hips had commenced a steady fucking cadence to coincide with the up and down masturbatory strokes of his fisted right hand over Dylan's blood-bloated stiffness. The pleasure was so overpowering, Lyle gritted his teeth in order to control its flooding. More than once, he thought he was going to ejaculate his copious juices; but, he contained his impulse.

Dylan, meanwhile, groaned in his own mixture of pleasure and pain, his tied, trussed up body, wildly bucking beneath Lyle's continual pumping. His thrashing only increasing Lyle's pleasure, the jerkings stirring his cock, hotly imbedded in Dylan's ass hole.

Suddenly, right on the verge of an orgasm, Lyle felt something powerful take hold of him; and it was not from within. A claw-like aching jabbed into his shoulders as the college boy's body was first forced back, as his cock obscenely plopped from Dylan's ass, and he was then forced to turn around.

It was Dylan's father.

"You fucking queer, sonofabitch'n bastard!" screamed Mr. Burroughs, his face fiercely distorted with rage.

Lyle, completely disoriented, was further surprised by the pain and shock of having Dylan's father's fist unmercifully connect with his left jaw. The force of the blow knocked Lyle back hard against the handrail next to Dylan's tied-up body. Losing his balance, Lyle fell off the bridge, and felt the cool, deep, crystal clear waters of Branford Creek coming up to swallow him.